The night is still dark when Ben wakes up, pearls of sweat dripping down his heaving chest. His fists clench around the sheets he's wrapped in, nails digging into his palms until the pain is sharp enough for him to be sure he's well awake.

The nightmares never really left him, but this… this was something else. The voice hadn't been that loud in years, and Ben feels a shiver run down his spine at the clarity of its icy words. It hasn't been that clear since that night , and the realization only adds goosebumps on his trembling skin.

Just a nightmare , he reminds himself as his feet touch the cold floor of his room.

Shreds of his nightmare follow him as he opens the door to the balcony and steps outside. It's an old habit he picked from his mother, to "chase bad thoughts away". It doesn't really work, hasn't since he was five, but the fresh air of Alderaanian nights never fails to calm his heartbeats. It's cold, sweet against his skin; a welcome sensation after the images his brain just sent him. As old as the memories are, they always feel very clear. Too clear.

Waking up with an odd feeling. Noticing the way his friends looked at him all day. Being summoned by Luke, and given the letter he wishes he'd never opened. He can still remember the thin lettering of his mother, and the bad feeling he had at the sight of it. Nobody hand writes letters anymore, but his mother makes exceptions for important matters. And what an important matter it had been, indeed, to learn about his biological grandfather's identity.

Being Darth Vader's grandson had come with an insane amount of fears from others, but mostly himself. Even though he'd always felt alone growing up, Ben had felt the few friends he'd made go away, one by one. Of course, he'd been used to loneliness- but nothing had prepared him for the questions that came with this revelation.

And that's when the voice had started talking.

He'd been scared, at first- everyone would be scared. He'd heard it before in nonsensical nightmares; but as the days passed and the loneliness grew, the voice became louder, until he couldn't ignore it any longer. It became a friend of sorts; a constant presence filling the gaps and whispering the answers he desperately needed. Answers Luke didn't approve.

A breeze caresses his cheek as he leans against the barrier, taking in the landscape before him. He remembers leaving in the middle of the night after a long conversation and a heavy heart. He remembers coming home and not talking to his mother for days, until he'd realized his father had left for one of his trips. He remembers her face hitting his sternum when he'd taken her in his arms, giving her the silent apology and reconciliation he needed more than everything. His mother may not have chased him like his uncle did, but she still sensed the doubts and fears in him- he knew it. He'd seen the concern in her eyes the first time the voice had reached him after his return, and hadn't missed how careful she'd been around him. If he'd had doubts before, this had only accentuated them- and before she could do or say anything, Ben had cut himself off from the force.

It's been years since the voice last whispered its poisonous promises, but Ben never forgot the unspeakable horrors it encouraged him to do. He remembers the visions that used to graze his mind, the violence of them and how it usually ended with death- someone's, or his. But most of all, he remembers the times these visions were tempting, and the fear that came with the realization.

He stays here for a few more minutes, focusing on the shields he built around his mind. The fresh air helps ease his trembling, and the memories vanish slowly, one by one, until he's back to the familiar silence. There's a moment, briefly, where he thinks he can hear the hint of a word being whispered in his ear, but it goes as fast as it came.

Just a nightmare , he reminds himself as he walks back to his room. The sheets are cold when he finds his bed again, the room empty and suddenly too big for him.

His eyes fall on the wardrobe where he hid his lightsaber- a rather poor hideout for such a weapon, but the first he had thought of then. As noble as a lightsaber is, he knows how dangerous it can be, and with the dormant darkness in him… he'd rather stay away from any temptation.

He fights against sleep for longer than he'd like, afraid of the things he might see. When he finally surrenders, his mind drifts to Rey, and the familiar softness surrounding her. He falls asleep thinking about her smile, and the promise of a new moment together.

The morning almost nears its end when Ben finally finds Rey walking through the gardens with his mother. She's wearing a sky-blue dress and that contained, polite smile as they progress through the path of gingerbells. The softness of her force signature grazes him in no time, warm and luminous, like a guiding light in the night. Scraps of the nightmare he still carried vanish immediately.

His mother is the first to notice him, and Ben feels his stomach tighten as she takes the young woman's arm and whispers something. He hates whispers, especially his mother's; but the feeling evaporates as soon as his eyes find Rey's. There's a curiosity in the way she looks at him that mingles with something he can't quite place; not quite fear, but not comfort either. She's careful, measured, and Ben feels his own curiosity grow as he takes the step separating them.

"Good morning."

His voice comes out a little lower than intended, but she doesn't seem to notice. His mother, on the other hand, looks more than amused. "I'll give you two some privacy," she offers with a smile- and before Ben can protest, she's walking away, leaving him with a ridiculous blush he can feel spreading on his face.

Rey is still smiling when he turns back to her. He wonders how much training she's had to keep this mask on for so long. She looks patient, slightly amused too, and Ben only now takes the time to take in her whole appearance. Her dress isn't as extravagant as the one she wore the day before, but still accentuates each of her features without fail: tight, long sleeves covering her arms down to her wrists, embroidered flowers falling down her shoulders and cleavage to frame what little of her skin is visible. Ben feels his blush increase at the vision and quickly moves his eyes up to hers. "I like your dress."

Of course. This had to be the first thing he could think of.

"I like yours, too."

She says it with such ease, it takes Ben a second to remember the cape draped over his shoulders, and another to notice the smirk hiding in the corner of her lips. "Was that a joke?"

"Only if it was funny."

His mouth opens, closes, and mirrors hers as she breaks into a soft chuckle. Her lips aren't painted in any color, today. Her eyes seem to have been outlined with a thin black line, though, and Ben realizes he hadn't noticed their color until now. It's something like the woods in autumn, flashes of greens and brown dancing together in a way that makes it impossible to distinguish one from the other. He decides he likes it.

"I don't know," he admits sheepishly. "I like your laugh, though."

"I'm just trying to make this less embarrassing for both of us"

There's a nervousness in her voice that draws a frown on Ben's face. It's the first time she's shown even an ounce of uncertainty since her arrival, and Ben can't help wondering if he's the source of her sudden unease. Of course he is- she was all smiles and calmness before his mother left, and given the way he started their last and only conversation yesterday, she must be rather reluctant to the idea of having another one.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, because it's the only thing he can think of. Sorry he's making it embarrassing, sorry that she feels like she has to do something about it- but more than anything, sorry that out of all people in the galaxy, she may have to marry him.

"No, I mean- not you. You're…" A nervous laugh leaves her, again. "You're nice. I can tell you're kind, I just… don't really talk with people."

A sense of surprise washes over Ben at her words. This is… nice, though he's not sure he deserves the compliment. Still, he makes sure to think twice before his next words cross his lips. "Me neither," he admits with a shrug. "This is already very promising." She chuckles again; a light chuckle that still feels a little contained, but a little more genuine than the ones before. This time, Ben can't contain his smile or the question that crosses his lips faster than it forms in his mind. "Can I show you around?"

The nod she gives him is a bit uncertain but she follows him, her long flowing skirt crawling after her. Ben swears he hears her curse as they climb the stairs leading to the main door, and catches her pulling at her dress, an unexpected hint of impatience in her movement. She catches up with him within seconds, her eternal smile back on her face.

It takes Ben a moment to realize his legs have instinctively guided them to the long corridor he crossed just a day ago with his mother before they met. As much as he doesn't like this palace, there's at least one part of it that always made him feel at home. He hasn't been there for months, years maybe- never more than the brief seconds he needs to travel through the corridors. Still, it feels like the best place to impress a guest.

"It's beautiful," Rey says as they pass a particularly eccentric painting that covers half a wall.

Ben can't help scoffing at it, and shakes his head. "I always hated it."

He spares her the details about how his seven-years-old self got traumatized by the graphic depiction of Alderaan's first sentient inhabitants and their long mandibles, and how many nights were spent in his parents' room until the fear passed. He later learned that no one had ever actually seen Killiks other than in paintings; yet even now, he instinctively keeps his distance as they walk past the painting.

"The palace was built centuries ago," he recites matter-of-factually. "Every monarch added something to it." His steps slow down as they reach the place he wants to show her. "This gallery was the first addition."

Rey's footsteps echo around them a few more seconds after she stops. When he turns back to her, Ben finds that she's not smiling anymore: her eyes are wide open, taking in each of the portraits hanging on the walls with great fascination. He notices a movement in her arm, like she wants to touch them. It's short-lived and discreet, so much that he wonders if he imagined it.

"They're your family." It's not a question, so Ben doesn't answer. "You're not there," she adds curiously.

The frown crowning her face is the first instance of doubt Ben sees in her features, and he finds he doesn't hate it at all. "No," he confirms.

"Why?"

Because he doesn't deserve it.

"It's a privilege," he says instead. "Sovereigns have to earn their place among the others."

She seems satisfied by his answer-for a moment, at least. Her eyes jump from one portrait to the other, squinting, like she's trying to make sense of what he said. When she finally looks back at him, Ben notices a few locks of hair have escaped from the three buns she already wore the day before. "Who was she?"

Her fingers point at the portrait on her right, and Ben feels his lips curl into a small smile. "Mazicia Organa."

"What did she do? To earn her place here?"

Ben looks at her for a moment, trying to find that familiar politeness in her features, but there's none. All he sees instead is curiosity; pure, intense curiosity and a desire to learn that warms his heart in a ridiculous way. He remembers asking the very same question decades ago when this place used to make him just as curious, if not more. He would find comfort and company there, belonging. Now… the looks feel heavier than before, and his eyes can't help searching for the two portraits that should be here.

"She was an important figure of the Clone Wars. We owe her the Star of Alderaan and the gardens you were in earlier."

The answer comes naturally, instinctively. He knows these portraits' lives by heart, knows each of their values and faults. In a way, showing this gallery to Rey feels like showing her the legacy he's carried with him so far. But as much as he knows about them, Ben can't help feeling like he doesn't really know this family he's supposed to be a part of. He knows about their political life, but not about their secrets. He doesn't know their voices, nor the books they read too many times or the embarrassing anecdotes about their childhood- a childhood they probably spent in this very same palace. This place makes this family seem large and present- and in a way, that's how it used to make Ben feel. Coming here was just a way to spend time with a family he never knew, but now…

Now, it just reminds him of how lonely he is, and of the mistakes of his actual bloodline.

The little information he gave Rey seems to please her, or at least enough to give him a glimpse of a smile that seems a little more natural every time. "So she was your…?"

"Great-grandmother."

"So…" She walks to the next portrait, the sound of her steps echoing around them. "This would be your grandmother."

"Yes."

"Adoptive grandmother."

"Right."

"Where is the other one? The one from Naboo?"

It's a good question- a question Ben has thought about many times. It's another reason why this place isn't as comforting as it used to be: the absence of a portrait that should be here, and the meaning it would carry with it. For a brief moment, finding out about his actual bloodline had been a relief- a moment in which he'd thought this would bring answers to this constant feeling of inadequacy. He'd always been a curious child, and this habit hadn't left him growing up. Sadly, the things he learned about his biological grandfather only increased the doubts he already had about himself except this time, it all made sense. The anger, the nightmares, the power- this was all the legacy of the man who caused too many deaths and suffering. A legacy he can sometimes feel more than he'd like.

He wishes he'd inherited his grandmother's traits.

"You ask many questions," he observes quietly.

"You give interesting answers."

Ben doesn't reply and beckons her to follow him instead. They fall back into a serene silence as he shows her the rest of the palace, only breaking the quiet here and there to mumble something about the room they just passed, answer the few questions Rey has and… he has to admit that she asks good questions. He ends up anticipating them, giving the smallest details before a sound leaves her mouth and she nods every time, listening carefully, like she's consciously memorizing the place. It's only after they reach the balcony where they met the day before that Ben realizes maybe she is trying to memorize- if everything goes according to his mother's plan, she might be living here one day.

They lean against the balustrade in unison, their eyes locked on the landscape before them, when Rey suddenly asks the first question Ben wasn't expecting.

"Can I ask what exactly is there for you?"

The bluntness of her words is surprising, if not unsettling. It contrasts with the softness of her features as she looks at him expectantly, awaiting an answer Ben struggles to give; but he remembers her defiance during their first conversation. She is blunt, and expecting an answer- so Ben chooses to buy himself some time, mumbling a pitiful "for me?"

"In this arrangement."

Ah, yes. The arrangement . Truth be told, Ben doesn't even know himself; all there is for him is a duty he never asked for and a life with her, which so far could be as heavenly as it could be terrible. Kriff, he hopes it's not terrible.

"It makes me king," he answers in the most assured tone he can find in himself.

"And this is what you want?"

Finding a vague answer is a little more difficult, this time. He doesn't really want to think about what he wants. Every time he thought he knew, Ben always failed at it, like he did with his Jedi training. Wanting things doesn't work for him, and desire only makes him feel closer to the darkness that swallowed his grandfather- to the darkness that could, one day, swallow him, too. There are things he simply can't allow himself. When his eyes linger on Rey, though, he's met with patience and this soothing feeling, this warmth radiating from her and calling him from afar. If his mother's suspicions about the Senator are right, she might be the enemy. She would warn him about her question, say this could be the Senator trying to learn more about her plan- but Rey seems nothing like her grandfather.

Ben decides to trust her.

"Even if I wanted this, Alderaan traditions demand a few things of a future monarch."

"So you do want it?"

Her curiosity is insatiable, but he's not complaining. Smiling, Ben takes a glimpse at her attentive expression and turns back to the vast landscape facing them. "There's something called the three challenges to the crown." He marks a pause, waiting for her to point out his deflection. She doesn't, so he continues. "The challenge of the Heart, the challenge of the Mind, and the challenge of the Body. Once all accomplished, the heir is considered ready to access the throne."

Rey remains silent, assimilating this new information, and urges him to continue with a nod.

"The challenge of the Heart is usually accomplished with charity work, while the challenge of the Mind requires some intellectual investment, usually political. The challenge of the Body, on the other hand, is a little more specific."

Once again, Rey remains silent, but Ben notices a slight change in her eyes when she turns to him, awaiting the rest of the story. She's a good listener. He hopes he's not too bad of a storyteller. Slowly, careful not to make any sudden movement, he raises a hand to point at the mountain facing them.

"The mountain you were looking at yesterday is called Appenza Peak. Alderaan heirs traditionally climb it by themselves to complete the challenge."

Of the three challenges, this is probably the one Ben anticipates the least. After Jedi training, climbing a peak feels much easier than proving his intelligence or generosity; and from what his mother told him, the view is absolutely breathtaking. He's heard about her own challenge, how she was allowed to bring her mother with her, and opens his mouth to add this detail when he notices a frown on Rey's features. It's not an angry one- more like an inquisitive, amused frown, and Ben suddenly wonders if he wasn't supposed to remember the interest she seemed to have in the landscape a day ago. Does it make him sound like a creep? Kriff, he hopes he didn't sound like a creep. He's searching for the best way to apologize when she speaks again. "You still haven't answered my question."

Very good listener, indeed. Maybe too good.

"Well, what is there for you ?"

"You can't answer a question with another question."

She's still frowning, but Ben is quick to catch the hint of amusement behind her accusatory tone. He can already hear his mother telling him to be careful with his words. "How about this: I tell you next time, and you tell me after?"

"Next time?" She makes it sounds like a good idea when Ben was only trying to buy himself more time- he has no idea how she does it, really.

"Next time," he confirms, slightly more assured. "You said you were staying a few days."

"I did," she agrees with that little tilt of her head. "You're very attentive, your highness."

"Call me Ben. Please."

For a split second, Ben swears there's the hint of a smirk on her lips, and a smidge of teasing in her voice. He probably made it up, though, because there's no reason for her to be this friendly. She's just 'making it less embarrassing' for both of them, like she said.

Still, his heart decides to miss a beat when he notices that her smile is still there, hiding behind her naked lips.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Ben."