Chapter Text
The decree had gone out again throughout the kingdom.
Two years ago, after the Grand Emperor Snoke had claimed the realm, the very first decree went out. Then, it had called for young men, boys on the cusp of manhood. Those who showed strength, ambition, and were fearless in the face of danger. Some volunteered, thinking it a right of passage, that their skill in battle would win them favor with the new ruler. Others were chosen by the Emperor himself, required to participate on pain of execution.
Those boys were put to the test in an arena in front of the Emperor, fighting to the death in a barbaric show like gladiators of old. The victors, bathed in the blood of their opponents, were crowned with laurels, cleansed with sacred water and fragrant oils, and served a decadent feast. Then they were paraded through the streets up to the palace on the hill.
Seven men were crowned victorious that day. Seven men were carried up the winding path to the palace on the shoulders of the people, hailed as heroes.
They were never heard from again.
Rumor was that those seven men were turned by dark magic into monsters—half human, half beast—to be the guards of the emperor. The Knights of Ren, beastly warriors clad in black armor that seemed to hide no man’s form, who could be seen patrolling the temple by night. To the people of the realm, rumor and gossip gave the knights other names. Names used at bedtime to frighten children into obeying their elders. Shadow Hunters. Night Terrors. Darkness Demons. They remained shrouded in mystery. The rumor mongers wove stories, saying they hunted by night alone and gained strength by drinking the blood of their enemies.
The rumors were fed by the new edict that came out a few months after the men had been taken. That time, the Emperor was requesting girls, young women of marriageable age, virginal, and unattached. All the eligible women were to gather at the square at dusk. As night fell, the Emperor would emerge and select a girl personally from the crowd. Emperor Snoke claimed it was an honor to be chosen. The girl was dubbed a bride, to be given to one of the brave Knights of Ren. They were dressed in a gown of white linen and crowned with a wreath of crimson flowers over their veil. Up they were paraded to the palace, just like the men from that fateful day. And with every proclamation, with every new young “bride” that was selected from the kingdom, the cortege dimmed from the jubilation of a wedding processional to the solemnity of a funeral dirge. For just like the men, the girls never returned.
And now the call had gone out again for another Bride of Darkness to be chosen, for one young woman to make the long trek up the winding path to a fate unknown.
This time, having turned eighteen, instead of watching from the crowd, Rey was to take part. She donned her best dress—a simple chiton of forest green—pinned up her hair, and washed her face. Rey had no baubles or rich silks to adorn herself with like the daughters of nobles and merchants of prestige, and even if she possessed such finery, she saw little point in it. The tributaries carried none of their personal possessions with them. If chosen, she’d be bathed in the bathhouse by the elders, have her face painted and her skin rubbed with oils. She’d bare no jewels or silks. Instead she’d walk up the hill with bare feet and hands, dressed in the ceremonial white gown, a delicate veil, and a crown of blood-red flowers to go meet her fate.
But Rey knew she’d not be chosen when the Emperor emerged from his obsidian carriage to ogle and scrutinize each young woman until he chose the one most worthy to become a Shadow Hunter’s bride. Every girl who had been picked so far had been from a family of renown, with hefty dowries to pay in tribute to the Emperor. She had no name or titles or fortune to levy. She was a nothing. A no one. An orphan with precious little to call her own.
Nor was she physically the type that the Emperor seemed to favor for these tributes. She lacked the gold or copper hair and alabaster skin of all the finer girls, with her chestnut locks and complexion tanned and freckled from the sun. Thin as her frame was, she was not without the subtle curves of femininity that came with the ripeness of womanhood. However, she lacked the voluptuous figure that men favored and that the Emperor eyed with a lascivious gaze that made her skin crawl.
To her, it mattered not if she was chosen or left. She’d watched her heart walk up that hill two years ago with six other brave men, and though she’d seen herself the ominous and shadowy Knights in silhouette on the palace’s parapet, she knew the boy she loved was gone. She held out hope, bolstered by the steady pulse of a rare and unique soul bond they shared. But several months after they were taken, right before the first edict requiring young women had come, she’d felt his heart stop beating and their pulse go silent. It had felt as if her soul had cracked in two that day, that her own heart had been ripped from her chest, and ever since she’d been but a shadow of herself. If it took becoming the sacrificial lamb in some ritual to perhaps discover what had happened to her soulmate, she’d meet her fate with open arms. If not, she’d continue to live her life the empty shell the loss of her soul’s mate had made her.
The sun hit the horizon and the sky streaked with brilliant shades of orange and pink. The black carriage soon came rolling down from the Palace on high, pulled by magic, without the aid of horses. It paused on the fringes of the city square and soon the lamps were lit to illuminate the stone plaza. Each woman gathered for perusal was given a candle, as to make their faces more visible. But they were told it was a symbol; they were to be the “light” for the dark Knights.
To make his selection, Emperor Snoke blew out the candle of the girl. The irony of their light being extinguished was not lost on Rey.
The stars soon began to appear in the sky, the pale moonlight adding to the ethereal glow of the candles and flickering lamplight as the eerie creak of the carriage door opening pierced the night.
The Emperor, clad in his signature golden robes, emerged from the coach, flanked on either side by a common palace guard dressed all in red. He stood unnaturally tall and his face was marred and scarred, and of a pallor that reminded Rey more of a corpse than a living man. He almost seemed to glide when he moved, smooth and alien in the moonlight. Drifting toward the girls, he slid down the line, sizing each girl up as he crossed in front of them. Rey felt his eyes on her as he stood before her and, perhaps it was her imagination, but it felt as though he lingered on her longer than on the other girls. She held her head a little higher, daring to look him in the eyes. Giving her an almost serpentine smile, she almost felt the cold gaze of his deep blue eyes drink her in. Perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight, but she swore she saw a flash of gold overtake the blue before his eyes left her and he moved on down the line. Once he reached the end, he moved to stand before them, turning to the crowd.
“So many lovely ladies tonight,” he started, his voice a strange gravel that sent a shiver straight up Rey’s spine. “This shall be a difficult choice indeed.”
Months ago, when the selection of the girls first began, he’d given a speech. He’d explained about how the Knights were needing companionship and the warmth of a woman’s touch. That he would examine the girls one by one to find the one most fitting to be joined to a warrior. That he could make his choice after seeing the first girl or after hours of scrutiny of each one. That it was an honor to make such a sacrifice, that they should obey their new lords in every way, even to the point giving their lives should it be asked of them. To disobey was to dishonor her family and her kingdom, and there would be punishment for insolence.
He said nothing of the sort now. Merely nodded to the crowds and then turned back to the line of women, indicating for the girl on the far end to step forward.
He never spoke much to any of the girls. He’d ask their name, their age. Perhaps inquire as to their family’s station. But nothing more. This selection was almost solely aesthetic, hence the fine dresses and jewels most of the girls were wearing. Even if the woman herself was terrified, most of the elders saw this as the honor the Emperor painted it as, and dressed any young women in their family eligible for selection accordingly. He’d admire their finely painted faces and their baubles, and see how they filled out their gowns. It filled Rey with a deep sense of repulsion, the way he gaped and leered. She could swear that he would occasionally smell the inside of their wrists or even their necks if he got close enough.
He arrived at the girl to Rey’s left, a pretty little thing, her candle shaking in her trembling hands as she fought back tears. Snoke twisted a golden ringlet of her hair around his finger, humming in approval as he looked her over.
“And your name, child?”
“Sa-Sabrine, my lord,” the poor girl stuttered.
He reached out and took her hand, bringing it to his lips and placing a kiss on the back of it. “How old are you, Sabrine?”
“I've just turned nineteen,” she said, her voice breathy.
He turned her wrist up and—yes, he did smell her. A deep inhale that was impossible to miss. His eyes seemed to light up then and his smile grew brighter. He dropped her hand and then took a step back. With a snap, Sabrine’s candle went out.
“Congratulations, dear child,” he said in that sickly sweet tone.
Sabrine’s knees gave out as the tears she had been holding back poured forth with a sob. Rey reached out to catch her as she crumpled, bending to comfort her. As she shushed and tried to soothe the girl, she sensed the Emperor pause and felt his stare upon her. A cold, long-fingered hand grasped at her upper arm, wrenching her away from the tribute. He brought her all but flush to him, his eyes focusing on a spot on her deltoid. His thumb rubbed along the raised, wine-stain mark on her skin and she sucked in a breath at the sting.
“I’d express my condolences,” he drawled, dropping her arm, “but we asked for unattached and untouched girls, child.”
“I am a maid, my lord,” Rey stated. He raised his eyebrows, giving her a look of disbelief. “I am,” she asserted. “A boy kissed me once, but it went no further.”
“Yet you bare a soulmark.” He spoke as if unconvinced of her innocence, with an arrogance that made her feel like she was being scolded like an insolent child. “And as it’s scabbed but unhealed, I assume his death was perhaps a few weeks ago, at most.”
Her hand reached up to caress the mark as she shook her head, trying to suppress the anger bubbling at the surface at the memory of the way he’d been ripped from her life. “It has been nearly two years.”
“You lie; the wound is too fresh.” He bated her hand away to re-examine the mark before looking her in the eye. “And even so, a soulmarked virgin is as good as a widow, so marked by another. You are not welcome in this selection.” He let go of her arm and turned to begin walking towards his carriage.
“He died in your service, my lord,” she spat out, unable to hold back. “He was one of the seven victors of the first edict. He promised to return to me, that he would marry me. Then a few months after he was taken, I felt his heart stop and my mark ran with blood. It’s not healed since that day.”
The Emperor paused for a moment, head turning slowly to look her in the eyes. Again, a golden glint seemed to shine there, and goosebumps sprang up along Rey’s skin. “Is that so?” he said, a slow, devilish smile curling his misshapen lips. “Perhaps an exception can be made.” And with a flick of his wrist, the candle Rey was holding went out.
A gasp arose from the crowd. Rey stared in disbelief at the smoking wick, the hot wax dripping down and coating her fingers. Yet, she felt neither the sting of the burn nor the guard’s hand as it grasped her by the arm. It wasn’t until she heard Snoke speak again that she came out of her daze.
“A blessed night! Two brides to grace the halls of the palace and the bed of a Knight, including this poor soulmarked widow maiden, who I’m sure shall find new purpose in this humble sacrifice.”
~~***~~
Rey and Sabrine were taken to the bathhouse, where elders helped them wash in a tub filled with fragrant water. They rubbed richly scented oils into their arms, legs, and naked torsos, so the moonlight shone off their skin. Kohl lined their eyes and stain gave an artificial flush to their lips and cheeks. The ceremonial white dress, tied with a rope spun with golden thread, was twisted in an intricate pattern about them, and a long veil—as fine and transparent as butterfly wings—was pinned into their hair. Then the crown of crimson flowers, like a circlet of blood against the white of the rest of their outfits, was carefully placed on each of their heads.
Sabrine quaked throughout the whole process, tears streaking the kohl smudged around her eyes, her whimpering cries resounding in the room as the elders tried to comfort her. Rey, on the other hand, remained silent and stoic. Her fingers ran along the wound of her soulmark, the two lines that looked so much like two hands outstretched to each other, and tried to understand what about the Emperor learning of her mark and it’s history that had made him choose her as a second tributary. Out of sympathy for her situation was not a likely cause, however he had framed her selection. Taking young men and women away from their loved ones was not the trait of a kind heart.
The walk along the path to the palace was somber, with torches held by the families of the tributes illuminating the road. However, Rey had no parents or siblings to light her way so while Sabrine’s walk was bright, Rey found her way by the light of the moon.
Upon reaching the gates, the other girl was given a moment to bid her family farewell. Rey offered Sabrine her arm after she was done. She clung to her, her fingers clutching so hard her nails dug into Rey’s skin. Together they were ushered past the iron and stone of the outer walls of the palace and up the marble steps to the grand hall.
The room was vast and lit with dozens of candelabras, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows that seemed to move and dance between the hanging tapestries and the alcoves that lined the walls. The phantom feeling of eyes watching her pickled at the back of her mind, giving her goosebumps. She shivered, though the night was warm and held no breeze.
The Emperor beckoned Sabrine forward. With silent tears streaming down her cheeks, she took the few shaky steps to him, leaving Rey alone to watch their exchange. The Emperor lifted the flower wreath from her head and then her veil, the mimicry of a wedding ceremony where the bride is finally revealed to her groom turning Rey’s stomach as she watched him trace a long, twisted finger down Sabrine’s face to tilt her head up to him.
“Fear not, for soon you shall find your sorrow and loneliness leave you, and you shall be rewarded with a kind of solace in your new lord’s arms.”
He then placed a ring on the girl’s finger, an emerald gleaming on the gold band. A delicate mask of the same colors covered her face, leaving only her lips uncovered. He then dropped the veil back over her face and placed a signet, again of gold and emeralds, in place of the flowers.
“Kato Ren is now your lord and husband,” he spoke, motioning for one of the red armored guards to come forth. “You shall please him well.”
Sabrine turned to Rey and a small hint of a smile turned her mouth. The guard took her by the hands and led the girl to the end of the room and into a dark hallway.
“And you, child,” the Emperor continued once the footfalls of Sabrine and her escort had faded. He walked towards her, more guards in tow. Rey closed her eyes and shuddered as he reached for the wreath of flowers to remove from her head. He lifted the veil from her face and she let her eyes rise to his, lest he felt the need to caress her face as he had Sabrine’s. “Finding you was quite serendipitous indeed. I do believe you’ll find answers to the questions that have plagued your mind and your heart in these halls.” He reached out his hand and the guard presented a ring to him, which he slipped on Rey’s finger. The twisted band of black and silver seemed to shrink to mold to her finger. She felt it tighten as it settled there, a ruby gleaming up at her as she stared at it in wonder. “But I must remind you, you are now wed to the leader of the Knights. Your new husband shall visit your bedchamber tonight, and I expect you to obey his every desire.”
Rey lifted her head again, meeting his eye. “And if I do not?” she dared him with a tilt of her head.
The Emperor let out a short, bitter laugh as he took a step closer to her, his deformed face now inches from hers. “I suggest you relent,” he said quietly, the implication of danger just below the surface of his words. He then reached out and began to remove the pins holding her veil in place. It rippled to the floor as the Emperor replaced it with a signet matching her ring, twisted silver and black metal adorned with rubies. “These men thrive in the hunt, dear girl. If you fight, they may unleash the beast within, and let’s just say they are not known for their gentleness.”
A guard handed him the mask. He turned it over in his hands before he held it out in front of her eyes, a sickening twist of his lips making a pit form deep in her belly.
“For you, child, something a bit different.” And he snapped his fingers. The mask materialized into a thick length of black silk, which was then placed over her eyes as a blindfold, making her gasp aloud. She felt hands—cold, thin, and frighteningly strong—clasp her shoulders and begin to steer her toward what she assumed was the hallway in which Sabrine had been taken. As they moved there was a rasping whisper in her ear, the feeling of breath on her skin making her bite back the bile that rose in her throat, “You now belong to Kylo Ren.”
A small shove released her and she stumbled forward, blinded by the swath of black over her eyes. Deprived of the rest of her senses, Rey’s hearing sharpened. From behind her, she heard the Emperor speak in hushed tones, assumingly to the guard who would take her away: ’“Lead her to Kylo’s chambers. Tell him, as usual, he may play with his food as much as he wishes, but he is to finish it this time. Or there shall be dire consequences.”
Then a hand was at her back and she was being ushered forward. The hallway was cold and she shivered as icy drafts stirred her skirts. They climbed up a spiral staircase, dizzying and disorienting without her sight and then walked a few minutes more. At last, a hand was held out to stop her. She heard a creak of a door opening and a hand grabbed her wrists and pulled her inside.
There was not much of a temperature change in the chambers, but she could tell, though the diffusion of the light through the silk, that the room was lit. She was pulled forward still, feeling the stone change to something softer beneath her feet: fur, perhaps? She could hear the crackling of a fire, presumably in the hearth, and felt warmth at last. Then something soft hit her at mid-thigh level.
“On the bed,” came the command from the guard, the first words he’d said to her since leaving the great hall.
She turned her head in the direction of the voice and then there was a shove that nearly toppled her over. Bracing herself with her hands on the bedspread, she felt her way to sitting. The bed felt vast, but warm and comfortable, the fabric beneath her fingers soothing at its softness. Leather grasped her wrists and wrenched them above her head, dragging her up. She let out a cry, fighting against the hands, but it was no use. A rough rope bound her wrists together, pulling them high on the frame and tying them there.
“What are you doing?” she yelled, pulling hard against her restraints. “Untie me!”
“So you cannot run,” said the guard in a cold, almost mechanical tone. Then a length of cloth covered her mouth, sliding between her lips and teeth as it was tied tightly behind her head. “So you cannot scream.”
Rey bit at the gag, rolling her tongue over it to try to loosen it. Saliva collected at the corners of her mouth and dripped down her chin. Struggling still against her restraints, she pulled and twisted, but it seemed to only clench down tighter against her wrists until her fingers began to grow numb and her arms ached.
The bed shifted and she felt the weight of the guard press closer to her. “You make such a pretty picture, bound and gagged, waiting to be fucked and claimed.” Rey felt a leather-clad finger caress her cheek. “Seems hardly fair the Knights get the prettiest ones.” She wanted to scream, but it just came out a garbled sound as she thrashed her head away from the unwanted touch.
Suddenly, there was a sound almost like a boom and a rush of cold air filled the chambers. She could feel the fire in the hearth go out, the candles that had given a golden glow that permeated the silk blindfold must have blown out too. The world about her plunged into darkness. The guard’s hand withdrew from her and she felt the shift of him scrambling away. She heard her own gasping breath and pounding heart, the frightened and tight intakes of breath from the guard. And then another sound. A low, feral growl that grew until it morphed and twisted into a dark laugh.
And then a voice. Deep and dangerous. Sounding more like the snarl of a beast than the timbre of a man: “I do believe you were touching that which is mine.”