Toeing the dirt, Rey looked over the camp. All she could see through the dark was the glow of campfires, hazily blocked by silhouettes of the men clustered around them. The whole place reeked of piss and slightly rotting meat, but her mind was far away, focused on what now lay only hours away.

She was nervous.

One figure broke away from the rest, slowly trudging up the hill towards her. As he got closer, she could just make out Luke's features. He looked as exhausted as she felt. "You should try and get some rest."

"As if I could sleep," she replied, fiddling with the rosary in her pocket.

He walked to her side and they stood, shoulder to shoulder, looking towards the horizon. "We have prepared for this. God is on our side."

She thought back to the nunnery, of Sister Unkar's cruelty and days spent toiling in the dirt until there wasn't a part of her that didn't ache. "Doesn't everyone think that?"

They strapped her into chainmail as the sun rose. Preparing for war was a noisy business; metal clanged all around her and men shouted to each other, horses canting nervously as birds squawked overhead.

"Remember," Luke was coaching, as he always did. "Keep your eyes on Snoke. His forces outnumber ours, but more than half of them are away, garrisoned in Norwich and York. If you can strike him down, they will all founder."

She flexed her hands around taut leather gloves. "I know. We've been over this so many times that I think the knowledge is carved on my bones." Taking a deep breath, she tried to speak around the knot in her throat. "Any word on reinforcements?"

"Not yet," he admitted, looking grim. "But he will come. My sister is desperate to see her son survive this war, and those were our terms."

Nodding slowly, she sent up yet another prayer.

When the last piece was fitted into place, he relaxed for long enough to grin. "My sources tell me that Snoke thinks 'Rey' is a man. With any luck, he'll spot you in armour and be so shocked that he falls off his horse without any further help from us."

She grinned back. "If it was good enough for the Maid of Orleans, it's good enough for me."

Squaring her shoulders, she walked out of her tent and climbed astride her charger. He was skittish, having picked up on the tension in the air, but she was sure that he would see her through this. Patting down his neck, she looked to Luke, now climbing aboard his own horse.

He raised his visor. "By God's grace, may you be Queen Rey of England when we next meet."

The moment before the charge was like hanging on a very high rope bridge, looking down into the abyss, feeling the thin line between standing and falling.

When it shattered, men roaring as they surged forward, the din was thunderous.

Rey had hoped to be able to keep track of what was happening on the battlefield as a whole. Instead, she was immediately swamped by bodies, men falling to her left and right as arrows fell from the sky. The first fighter reached her, raising his sword in an even movement.

Focus on one fight at a time, Luke's voice whispered.

She swung her halberd with precision born of months and months of gruelling practice, burying it in the shoulder of her opponent. With a yell, she rode close enough to kick him away and tear her weapon free, heaving it into the neck of her next attacker. On and on, she hacked, blood and viscera coating her visor, an endless supply of enemies blocking her way as she tried to move forward.

The arrow seemed to come from nowhere. It landed right next to her leg, burying itself in her charger's flank. He bucked and she lost her balance, heart pounding loud enough to even drown out the sounds of death around her as she fell to the ground.

The dirt was wet when she landed, slick with blood. She tried to straggle to her feet, but the advancing hoard was a tidal wave, crushing everything that it encountered.

For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to die. Peaceful, maybe. Quick, hopefully.

A cry went up from the men around her, loud enough to even be heard over the chaos. It was excited; when she craned to look where they were pointing, she saw another army standing on the hill, holding standards bearing a portcullis.

Lord Han.

As they bore down, the battlefield began to shift, her own men surging forward with new energy.

The crowd parted, and for a moment, Rey saw Snoke. He was astride his massive black war charger and bellowing in fury. When a path cleared, he started to gallop, storming towards Han and her reinforcements.

Stripping her gloves off, she reached down, pushing through the grime until she felt the dirt beneath her fingers. Praying that a stray arrow wouldn't strike her down, she closed her eyes.

Her gift thrummed in her skin, always waiting, simmering just below the surface. Contact with the earth grounded her, gave her a conduit. Through her exhaustion, she drew on a deep well of power, sending it rippling through the ground. Colours swirled behind her eyes as her chest warmed. In her mind's eye, she hurtled towards Snoke, unhindered by any earthly obstruction. Thank God that she was close enough now to reach him.

The monster himself was warded tightly, as one might have expected. It was flashy, bright to her sight, blinding in its strength. His horse had the same ridiculous level of protection.

The ground, though. He could not ward the whole of England.

Pulling, sucking in air through her teeth, she dragged the dirt down, swirling, twisting it in a funnel further into the earth. Snoke galloped onwards, completely unprepared when his horse's foot caught on the hole. The beast went down with a heart-rending scream and Snoke flipped head over heels as he was hurled to the muck below.

With her gift still nestled in the ground, she could hear him. "A horse!" He screamed. "Get me a horse, you fools, get me a horse!"

Rey saw the moment when an anonymous knight pushed a sword under Snoke's visor, red-stained and wet when it thrusted out the other side. It was close, too close; she withdrew her hands from the earth with a gasp, snapping back into her body.

Pushing to her feet, she swayed. She didn't feel victorious. She felt numb. And tired, oh so tired. Clutching her halberd, she swung as yet another man bore down on her, trying to hold her ground until the news of Snoke's death spread.

It took time, but the cry gradually went up as soldiers faltered, not willing to fight for a dead king. The enemy's standard-bearer lowered their flag, signalling surrender. Wincing and clutching the arm she had landed on, Rey worked towards Snoke's body, climbing over dead bodies and trying not to look too closely at the men who had fallen for her. Masses would be said later, candles lit. For now, she needed to focus.

Bending, she wrenched the crown off of Snoke's visor. Pushing to a boulder and climbing atop it, she lifted it into the air with a triumphant thrust.

The crowd began to chant. "The King is dead! Long live the Queen!"

A knight staggered towards her, tearing off his visor to reveal a relieved looking Luke.

She had to yell to be heard. "It's finished."

"Oh Rey," he shouted back, "it's only just begun."

Lord Han offered to stay behind and make sure the battlefield was put in order. Grateful, she accepted. It was two days ride to London through densely forested terrain, and she was eager to start her work. There was much to be done: remaining old loyalists would have to be quashed, the mercenaries needed to be paid, the majority of Snoke's soldiers would have to be pardoned, and she had to receive oaths of fealty from the nobility as soon as possible. They sent a messenger ahead, speeding down the road to tell the news of her victory as their much larger convoy straggled on.

Within a day, a different rider flagged them down frantically, waving a piece of parchment. "Letter for Lord Luke!"

He opened it slowly. Rey waited, impatient but knowing from hard-earned experience that there was no point in rushing him.

He frowned. "It's from my sister. London has surrendered, with Kylo Ren held captive."

"Ah." She twisted her mouth, drumming her fingers against her knee. "I rather hoped he'd be killed in battle."

"A bit uncharitable."

"Yes, well." She waved to the men and jogged her horse into movement again. "I'm hardly going to be excited to see him, am I?"

Luke followed her, tucking the letter into his doublet. "Perhaps try not to express that to my sister. We owe your victory to her and Han, this seems a small price to pay."

"To you, perhaps." She shot him a filthy look. "You're not the one who has to marry him."

"True," he conceded. "True."

Luke had warned her that Londoners were a force to themselves. They followed who they pleased and routinely rioted when unhappy. For now, they wanted her, and she was grateful for it. She even went to the trouble of finding a dress in order to appear sufficiently Queenly.

Her procession into the city was flanked by cheering crowds. It was overwhelming, so different from the empty quiet of her room in the nunnery that it could have been another world.

That seemed so far away now.

They made their way towards the Tower, the drawbridge down and gates raised when they arrived. As they went through to the courtyard, a woman with delicately entwined braids and a fur-lined robe came rushing towards them, arms outstretched.

"Leia," Luke said fondly, jumping off his horse to embrace her. "I'm glad you are safe."

"And I, you," she said, grinning ear to ear over his shoulder.

"Now, may I present-" he outstretched his arm towards Rey, "- Rey, by the Grace of God, Queen of England, France and Lord of Ireland. Your Grace, my sister, Lady Leia."

Lady Leia swept into a deep curtsy, appropriate even at her station for addressing the monarch. "Your Grace. We have corresponded."

It was a strange way to refer to sending a marriage contract and demanding that her son both survive the regime change and receive a rise in station in exchange for support in arms. "You may rise, Lady Leia. I am thankful for the support of you and your husband."

"Of course." She stood gracefully and looked back and forth between them. "There is the… Small matter of my son's captivity to attend to."

Luke pulled of his gloves, helping Rey down from her horse. "Have you enough energy now?"

Gritting her teeth, she nodded. Might as well get it over with.

They trooped down to the dungeons, flanked by guards and attendants that seemed to melt out of nowhere. Luke followed behind his sister, walking like he knew exactly where he was going. Which, Rey supposed, he would; though it had been almost a decade since he set foot in England, the layout of a castle was hardly likely to have changed.

"How did you subdue him?" Luke asked as they wound round and round a circular staircase, heading underground.

"Paid a maid to put a sleeping draught in his soup," Leia said lightly. "There was no love lost for Snoke in these parts, and my son was his right hand man." Her words turned bitter as she spoke, like she was tasting something unpleasant on her tongue.

They walked silently for the rest of the way. When they drew close to a cell, everyone else hung back. As the guard opened the door, only the three of them stepped into the dark.

He was hunched over a bench on the other side of the room, features shrouded in shadow. Raising his head a fraction, his eyes narrowed on his Mother. "Lady Leia, Lord Luke. What a charming surprise."

"Son," she said, "I have brought the new Queen. Your betrothed," she added, putting emphasis on the word.

"I would rather die," he said flatly.

Rey's eye twitched in irritation. So much for hoping for a man with some sense.

Lady Leia sighed, tapping her foot against the stone floor. "Yes, I hear you've been refusing food"

Rey broke in with an outraged sputter. "You've been refusing food?" Years of hunger at St. Jakku and Sister Unkar's stingy treatment of the noviciates had left her with an absolutely fanatic belief that food should not be wasted; she once caught one of the mercenaries stealing food from a child and Luke had to haul her away before she seriously hurt the man.

He gave her a filthy look. "Yes, your Grace, so if you'd just go ahead and have me executed, this would all end a lot faster."

It was tempting. But rationally, Rey knew that Lady Leia and Lord Han were her best allies in a foreign court; they held influence, could sway others. She couldn't afford to alienate them. And further, as the former heir, Ren represented the old regime. His presence would ease the transition, placate those who were worried about being left behind in the inevitable power shuffle. It was logical, she knew, even if she hated it. "Don't be such a child."

He rose to his feet. God's teeth, he was big, easily a head taller than her and with a shoulder span that dwarfed even Luke. He stomped towards her and only stopped when there was a rattle, having reached the limit of the chain keeping him secured to the bed. As he moved forward, his face was suddenly cast into light, revealing bold features and black hair that curled around his shoulders. "I have no interest in swearing fealty to some straggler who has been God knows where for the past two decades, riding in with a band of foreigners under the standard of a dragon that no one has ever seen. You don't deserve to rule."

She gritted her teeth. "I won it by right of conquest."

"Oh please, as if standing on a hillside and watching men die for you-"

"I was there!" she barked, suddenly furious. She had fought, all for the burden of duty and the promise of making a difference for good, and no one could take that from her. "While you were locked in here, I had blood on my hands! I felt Snoke die!"

If anyone thought her choice of words strange, they said nothing.

His face changed ever so slightly. Drawing back, he titled his head, silent.

She took a deep breath and collected herself. "I am the last of the Kenobi line. You are the last of the Skywalker line. We have legacies to defend."

This time, he didn't disagree, watching her.

"I have read the histories. Your Grandfather made this country prosperous and safe." At a great cost, but that was a conversation for another day. "You owe it to his blood, flowing through your veins, to adapt to your circumstances."

Leia was looking back and forth between them anxiously, Luke standing in the shadows like a sentry with his arms crossed.

Ren just stared.

"Fine," Rey hissed. "This is preposterous, I'm not going to beg. Starve yourself if you want, we can give the food to another more deserving." She turned on her heel. "Guard, open this door-"

"Very well."

It was said so quietly that she almost missed it.

When she turned, Kylo Ren was watching her with narrowed eyes, his expression grim. "I'll go forward with this ridiculous farce."

"Wonderful," she snapped, marching out of the cell as the door creaked open. "Free him!" she demanded to the stunned looking guard, trusting that Lady Leia would take care of whatever arrangements were necessary.

As fast as she could, she stomped back up the stairs, pushing past curious looking attendants. She just wanted to get out of this damp and dark place, back to sunlight and earth where she could feel the sweetness of the air on her face and be grateful that she was still alive.

Author's Notes:

This is... A sort of homage to the final bits of the Wars of the Roses, with characters mirroring key figures.

The "Maid of Orleans" is a reference to Joan of Arc who, of course, wore armour.

Rey's title- Queen of England and France, lord of Ireland- is a bit more about posturing than any reality. England only owned a tiny bit of France by this stage, and they had negligible control over Ireland.