Chapter Text
***
His mother’s eyes were so warm. They were dark brown, the same color as the wood that made up their home, a simple farmhouse in the countryside.
Ben reached out his tiny hands to her and she took him into her arms.
“Mama!”
“Oh you’re so heavy, love,” Leia huffed and chuckled, her kind face now close. “You’re not a baby anymore.”
She smelled of sandalwood and aloe, smells that little Ben loved more than anything.
Ben’s father Han was so tall and strong, he made Ben feel safe.
“He isn’t,” Han smirked, proud. “He’s all grown up now.”
“Just like you, papa!” Ben giggled, reaching for Han, who took him from Leia’s arms, giving his son a kiss on the head.
Time passed and Ben grew up. He studied all his letters, becoming a great student. He also enjoyed going to town with his parents, despite the people who avoided them.
“Why do people look at us like this, mother?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, love.” His mother answered with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
The only person who treated them with kindness was Father Snoke, the town priest. Ben didn’t really like him at first, but he began to trust the man as time passed.
He was the one who told Ben why the others didn’t like his family.
“Your mother committed the sin of lust, my child,” he said as Ben sat next to him in the pews “Having laid with a man to whom she wasn’t married: your father. And she refused to marry him, even after her family disowned her.”
“What does this mean?” Ben asked, still confused.
“When her time comes,” Father Snoke explained patiently. “She will burn in hell for all eternity.”
Ben couldn’t help the gasp he let out nor the cold dread that took hold of him.
“What about father?” Ben asked anxiously. “Will he burn too?”
“Yes,” Snoke has said. “Your mother’s corruption will taint him too.”
Ben was terrified.
So it became Ben’s life mission to find a way to save them from this torment. Snoke promised that if they repented, God would forgive them.
Ben tried everything. He begged them to go to church, pray, or to at least take their first communion.
But Han and Leia refused, dismissing all of it.
Then, his mother fell ill.
Ben and Han stayed by her side all the while, but she didn’t get better.
In her last hours, Leia promised to Ben she would always be with him.
But she wouldn’t.
His mother’s soul would be taken to the depths of hell, there to burn for all eternity.
Ben cried so much when she died, he thought he would die too.
Both Ben and Han were inconsolable, but Ben was that and more. His beloved mother, being tortured by the eternal flames of damnation? That was too much.
So Ben threw himself in his studies of the bible and prayer, under the watchful eye of Father Snoke. He begged God to have mercy on his mother’s soul.
So much so that he didn’t notice the first signs of his father’s illness.
On his deathbed, Han caressed Ben’s face as Ben cried and begged his father not to leave him.
Ben buried his father next to his mother, with a pain so great he had to lie on the cold earth of the graveyard for hours before he had the strength to get up.
Ben was alone. And his days were filled with thoughts of hellfire.
But the kind Father Snoke was there for him, as always.
He offered Ben a place in the monastery of the First Order, to become a priest – a brother – and worship God.
“Your mother was a sinner, my child, and she and your father burn in hell. There is nothing you can do for them, but their sins are not yours.” Snoke said. “You can still save your soul if you devote yourself to the Church, the Order and God.”
So Ben joined and found a new home within those cold walls. But despite being grateful for his brothers and God's mercy, Ben was completely alone.
*
*
*
The group of priests walked in a single file, quietly braving the snow and the cold as they traveled through wilderness.
They left the monastery three days ago, headed to Dathomir by orders of Monsignor Snoke. There, the brothers were meant to retrieve some books so they could make copies, and expand their library, something that Ben enjoyed doing very much. He had been the first to volunteer, excited to study and practice his calligraphy.
The early winter weather had been mild back in Chandrila, but it quickly deteriorated as they moved further north and into the dark forest.
Indeed it was dark, and ominous, especially when it snowed. The chilling winds came and pierced through Ben’s thick travel robes and boots, reaching his skin. His thin body didn’t stand a chance against the cold.
Ben hugged his satchel closer to his chest as a particular strong gust of wind hit the group. He held onto his staff for purchase but his boots were getting caked with snow, making each step incredibly difficult.
The wind relented for a moment and the clouds parted, letting the sun warm them for a few moments.
God’s blessings were endless.
“Thank you, Lord,” Ben mumbled to himself.
“We shouldn’t be far,” Father Canady spoke from the front. “The road is ahead!”
All the other priests crossed themselves and picked up the pace.
In the corner of Ben’s eye, something moved through the woods.
Ben halted and scanned his surroundings.
Nothing.
He shrugged and kept walking.
He didn’t even feel the blow, his face simply collided with the snowy ground and shouts filled the air.
Disoriented, Ben pushed himself up and his eyes focused enough to see his companions being attacked by hooded figures.
His body jerked up as his satchel was being pulled from him, but Ben grabbed it before the bandit could get it. Ben managed to get up and easily yanked it from the man’s hand, being taller and stronger.
The man cowered for a second and stepped back, until he seemingly remembered he had a knife in his hand.
He swung it towards Ben but he grabbed the man’s arm, stopping it short. The man dropped his knife and began to scream and flail.
An excruciating pain hit Ben’s left leg and he collapsed with a grunt, letting go of the man. More blows followed, hitting his arms and ribs.
The first bandit finally plunged his knife into Ben’s side and Ben suddenly couldn’t breathe.
On his knees, he took blow after blow until he was on the ground again and muffled footsteps and shouts surrounded him.
***
Ben woke up but couldn’t tell what direction was up or down. His body was numb from the cold but the pain from his leg broke through.
He tried to move but his limbs didn’t answer. He turned over, leaving behind a large pool of crimson snow where his body had been.
The sky was gray and the snow began to fall, stinging his cheeks.
A strange thought came to him: he should stay here and watch the snow fall. It was so peaceful and quiet.
Ben closed his eyes.
“Heavenly Father,” he prayed. “Help me. Give me strength.”
Imbued with his faith, Ben turned to the side where the wound wasn’t and pushed on the ground.
He managed to sit, and when his head stopped spinning, he saw it.
The bodies of his companions were displayed around him, dark and crimson spots on the white snow.
Ben’s breath caught, and he dragged himself to the closest one. He turned the body around.
He gasped.
Brother Dolphed had his eyes open and fixed, his skin was blue and the blood around his face was dry and brown.
Ben’s throat became tight, and his eyes burned. He shut them, containing a sob.
“Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.” Ben uttered, closing Dolphed’s eyes and crossing his forehead.
Ben crawled to each one of his companions but they had all met the same fate as Dolphed. Ben’s heart broke.
He said another quick prayer and crossed himself once more. If he lingered too much, he would surely die too.
All their things were gone also; the bandits didn’t leave anything behind.
Ben dragged himself to a nearby tree to try and stand up.
He pulled himself up with great difficulty. His limbs were stiff with cold and his head was heavy, but he managed to stand on his two feet.
Ben lost his bearings when he got knocked over, and the snow had already covered any tracks. But the main problem was that only Father Canady knew the way.
Also, the sky was overcast, and there was no way to see where the sun was.
The snow was coming down harder. A strong gust of wind suddenly pushed him forward, and he managed to put one foot in front of the other. Ben was shivering so hard his teeth clacked together.
Ben walked into what he guessed was north, but the snow storm was increasing, making it impossible to see.
But he had to keep moving. He would die if he stopped.
“Pater noster,” he mumbled, gripping his robes tighter against his body. “Qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum.. F-fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in t-terra…”
The shivering got to a point where he couldn’t speak so he tried to recite the rest in his head but he suddenly couldn’t remember the words.
The cold had taken over his entire body, and now his mind. He could barely walk and faltered at almost every step.
The storm became louder, taking over his remaining sense, and Ben’s last thoughts were of his parents. And that hurt more than the cold. He wouldn’t even have the comfort in death of knowing would be with them again.
***
A strong pressure on his head woke him up. It was overwhelming but soon gave place to the greatest pain Ben had ever felt.
He grunted loudly, his heart racing and vision blurry. The pain came from everywhere in his body, the worst coming from his left leg.
Panicking, his breathing became erratic as he rid himself of the fabrics covering him to look down.
Instead of his leg, there was a swollen mass of purple flesh with blood coming out of it. His foot was the same color, and double the size.
He screamed and thrashed in desperation, but it only increased the pain and the pressure on his head, becoming an agonizing throb.
“M-my leg! My leg!” He cried out desperately, each breath more difficult than the other.
Hurried footsteps echoed in the room. Then, hands grabbed him.
“It’s alright, sir,” a voice came. “Please, stop moving.”
“Oh God! Oh God Almighty!” He sobbed from the pain. It was enough to make him faint.
He slacked on the bed as tears burned his eyes, and a cold dread wrapped around his stomach.
The hands gripped him more firmly.
“Please, sir, don’t move.”
His eyes finally focused on the person whose voice was talking to him.
It was a woman, although her face was so beautiful she could have been an angel.
But the pain was so great that another cry was ripped out of his throat, until they became long moans of agony.
“Here, drink this.”
The warm surface of a cup made contact with his mouth and a hand gently propped his head up a little so he could drink whatever that was.
He did and the bitterness almost made him gag. He controlled it, and took another sip. The second one wasn’t so bad so he was able to take several gulps. The liquid soothed him and left no aftertaste.
“Please… please, God...” he begged through the tears, his body shaking with agony.
“Sir, you must stay still,” the woman said. “There's much to be done.”
Such a sweet voice. She must be an angel that God sent his way. His eyes welled up. He was not worthy.
“Thank you… thank you, Lord…”
His pain subsided so quickly he sobbed with relief. The relaxation from it made his body become limp and his mind shut down.
***
The next time Ben opened his eyes, they were unfocused. His mouth was thick and his mind slow. He grunted from the discomfort and rubbed his face with his hand.
Slowly, his vision came back to him, and he took in his surroundings.
The room was spacious. The walls were made of wood, and so was the small window which framed the snow falling outside. The furniture consisted of a worn out apothecary with several candles on top; a wick chair propped against the wall which looked soft and sturdy at the same time; a night stand where a glass and a teapot stood; and finally the bed he was laying on. It was larger than his at the monastery, and a lot more comfortable and warm because of the many soft blankets covering his body.
And the woman was there, sitting by the bed.
He let out his breath. He considered that he might have imagined the woman in his delirium, but he was glad she was real.
She put down the yarn she was knitting and regarded him.
She was even more beautiful now he could look at her properly: delicate and fierce, soft and strong. Her long chestnut hair cascaded in soft waves until it reached her hips. And her eyes… indescribable green and gold. She was wearing a simple gray dress, a peasant’s dress, with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
“Good morning,” her kind voice was low and feminine, music to his ears. “How are you feeling?”
It took him a moment to stop staring and find his words again.
“I’m…” he said, his voice rough from disuse. “Tired.”
“You should be,” she chuckled. “You were in terrible shape.”
Ben suddenly remembered his leg. He gasped and pulled on the blankets.
“Wait, please,” she got up and held his hands, her skin warm against his. “Don’t make sudden movements, alright?”
Ben braced himself as she uncovered his leg for him.
It was wrapped around a splint but a large cut along the length of his calf was visible, neatly sewn and clean. There was no more swelling and his skin was the same color as the rest of him, the only remains of that awful purple color were scattered bruises.
Letting out his breath, he placed a hand over his speeding heart.
“You were walking on that broken leg for too long,” she said, her eyes worried. “I almost couldn’t save it.”
His breath came out with a shiver, imagining what he almost lost.
“And you lost quite a bit of blood from your side,” she continued. “So I sewed that one too.”
There was a sting on his side which he hadn’t felt so far. He exposed his chest, and the wound was nicely patched, along with several bruises on his naked torso.
Naked torso.
He was naked underneath the blankets. And if she had tended to his wounds as diligently as she did, she most certainly undressed him.
He laid back down again and pulled the blankets to his throat, his face burning like a furnace. The woman was still examining his leg and didn’t see his gesture, and when their eyes met again, she smiled.
“Where am I?” He asked.
“This is my home,” she said. “In the woods of Yavin.”
“Yavin?” He groaned. “It’s so far…”
“Where are you from?”
“Chandrila,” Ben said. “But me and my companions were going to Dathomir. We must have gotten lost.”
“What happened?”
“We were attacked and robbed. I was the only one who survived.”
“I’m sorry.” Her gaze fell.
Ben’s heart tightened at the thought of his dead brothers.
“They were holy men who lived their lives in the servitude of God. The gates of heaven will be open for them.” He said as he crossed himself.
Her eyes followed his gesture.
“Then I… I tried to keep going, but it was so cold,” he said. “I must have collapsed at some point.”
She hummed.
“When I found you, I thought you were dead.”
“You found me?”
“Yes,” she said. “I was hunting. I found you lying there. I thought you were a corpse. But you were still breathing when I examined you. So I brought you here.”
“How?”
“I dragged you.”
“All the way?”
She nodded.
His heart swelled with gratitude, warming up his entire body.
“How long ago was that?”
“Five days.”
Ben frowned. Five days was a long time.
“Who are you?” She asked.
“My name is Ben Solo, I am a priest of the First Order.”
“You’re a priest?” She tilted her head.
“Yes.”
“Nice to meet you, priest Ben Solo,” she said, a sweet grin painting her face.
He stared, he couldn't help it. It was so lovely the way her face changed with it. The air in the room changed, becoming less heavy, and his lips curled up ever so slightly as well, mimicking her.
“What is your name?” He asked.
“Rey.”
“Just Rey?”
“Yes,” she said. “Just Rey.”
She got up and placed her yarn on the table next to him, there lay a cup which she offered him.
“You need to drink this,” she said.
“What is that?”
“It’s tea from the bark of the yew tree,” she said. “The boiling weakens the poison, and it becomes an antidote for the pain.”
Ben had never heard of such a thing, the yew tree was deadly in every state. She must have seen his frown because she took a sip herself.
“See?” she said. “It’s safe.”
Ben nodded, the pain in his leg was returning so he didn’t have much choice. Besides, he figured that this is what she had been giving him all this time so he might as well continue.
She helped the cup to his lips and he drank the liquid. The now familiar bitterness wasn’t unpleasant; in fact it soothed his stomach and his nerves. A few moments later, the throbbing pain in his leg subsided.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Don’t move too much, the bone is still healing and the stitches are strong but you don’t want to test them.”
“Yes, of course.”
His eyes followed her as she left the room. A few minutes later, she came back with a basket full of snow.
Ben chuckled at the strangeness of it.
She gently propped his leg on top of a wooden tray and covered his leg with a cloth. Then, she began placing the snow over his leg.
He watched her as she worked. Her delicate nose and lips formed the loveliest profile.
The cold soothed his pain even more. A great relief for the unpleasant heat on his leg.
“This is to reduce the swelling,” she said. “We must do this twice a day.”
When she was done, she filled his cup with more tea and tucked the blanket around his body.
His eyes filled up with unshed tears and he grabbed her hand in his. She gasped lightly but didn’t pull away.
“Miss,” he said. “You saved my life. May God shower you with blessings and light. I cannot ever repay you for your kindness. I’m forever in your debt.”
She smiled softly and placed her other hand on his. So soft and warm. The contact sparkled a thrill on his skin.
“I’m glad you’re feeling well,” she said. “This is enough for me.”
“You must be an angel from God.”
She chuckled and gently placed his hands on his chest.
“I’ll let you rest now,” she said softly. “You have a lot of healing to do.”