They've lost so many.

She's lost track, really.

The upstairs maid, the butler, their two best cooks. The prince's valet was the latest one. He'd not even been outside the castle grounds, but taken when he was about his daily duties near the garden.

She looks around and wonders, not for the first time, who's next? It could be anyone, even her. She leaves the castle only rarely these days, only for a bit of fresh air, but clings close to its walls to avoid any undue attention.

They've been at war so long.

She's down in the main hall, polishing the silver, when the housekeeper comes flying in. "I just cannot work like this," she's muttering.

Rey glances over at the woman. There's color high on her cheeks and her eyes are squinted half shut. "Is there a problem, Miss Holdo?"

Amilyn Holdo, housekeeper to Queen Leia and her consort, Han Solo, for as many years as Rey has been alive, rarely looks flustered. But more and more the entire household is on edge as the war drags on. They're a small kingdom, located just on the outskirts of the country, and seeing them being beaten back by a kingdom calling itself "The First Order" is, quite frankly, terrifying. King Snoke is a wily old man with many battles under his belt. He won't back down so easily, and he sacrifices his own with little care for his kingdom's well-being. Winning is what matters, even if he has to destroy most of his own people to get there.

"Oh, there's no problem," Amilyn says, her voice just a little too airy to be convincing.

"No? I'd say it looks like there's a problem."

Amilyn sighs. "It's the prince."

"It's always the prince," Rey says, with a grin.

She grew up near the castle grounds, taken care of by old Master Kenobi, the royal house's advisor of many years after her parents had been lost to the war. She'd seen Ben Organa as a gawky teenager, with limbs too long for his body and a short haircut that showed off his enormous ears. She'd been half in love with him even as a child. He had been kind to her, when many others looked past the orphans of their war-torn land. He had answered her questions with patience and kindness, called her kid and ruffled her hair, tweaked the buns she wore.

He won't look at her now, and she feels sad at that. It's like somehow her growing up made her invisible to him. He strides past her, now a tall and broad man of 29, and barely spares a glance for the girl who had once been his friend. He doesn't speak to her. He doesn't smile at her.

She notices, sometimes, that he never smiles anymore. He's on the front of the war too often, has seen too much. Sometimes he comes back with blood on his sword and a dark look in his eyes and disappears into his room, with only his valet for company. Sometimes she hears him scream, can hear him punch the wall repeatedly.

She's heard rumors of people sent to patch up those walls after a particular outburst.

He's changed.

They all have.

War does that to a person.

"They've sent three different maids to help dress him this morning and he's tossed them all out on their ear. He tried to banish Kaydel simply drawing a bath and insisting he use it."

"I'll do it," Rey hears herself say before she even realizes the words are out of her mouth.

"Rey…" Amilyn starts to warn her.

"I know the prince."

"I know you grew up with him," Amilyn says. "But I don't think you know him now…" Her voice trails off.

Rey knows she's right. What does she know of this surly young man? She knows the Ben she grew up with, the Ben she loves. She doesn't know the warrior others are calling Kylo Ren. She doesn't know the anger that resides in his torn soul, though she can see the battle between light and dark in his every movement.

"I can handle it," Rey says. What she really means is she can handle him. And more, she wants to.

Amilyn sighs. "No one else will do it," she admits. "Godspeed then, Rey."

With a nod, Rey sets down her silver-polishing cloth, and steels herself. It's been years since she's spoken to Ben.

She knocks at the door, two solid raps on the wood. She won't come to him as a shrinking violet. Not Rey. She never backs down from a challenge.

There's a groan on the other side of the door.

"And what incompetent child have they sent me this time?" Ben's voice is gruff, irritated, and then he flings the door open.

And stops.

And stares.

"This incompetent child sent herself," Rey says, looking up to meet his eyes. She forgets, sometimes, just how tall he is. She's not short. The other maids have called her any number of names because of her longer legs, her greater reach. But Ben is simply massive.

The last time she'd been this close to him, he'd been thin and lanky. Now, standing before her clad only in his nightshirt, she can clearly see the bulk of his muscles stretching the fabric tight. She should be embarrassed, knowing how little he's currently wearing. But she's not. Instead her eyes trail down from his hair, now thick and long and hiding those ears of his, to the column of his throat, the strong muscles of chest and legs.

When her eyes return to his face, his cheeks are tinted a bit red. "Rey?" His voice cracks slightly on the word.

"Are you going to let me in?"

He doesn't move.

"Benjamin Organa," she starts to say, and he finally backs up, allowing her to walk into the room. She shuts the door behind her and turns back around to face him.

She's all too aware that she's alone with him. And that she's never been alone with a man, much less one wearing nothing more than his nightshirt.

"Rey, what are you doing here?" He sounds honestly befuddled.

"I've been told you need someone to assist you with dressing and that you've turned away the last three maids…"

"I'm not having a maid dress me."

"Well, your valet is dead." Her voice is flat. "The rest of the men are in the stables or in the fields. So you either stay in your night clothes for the rest of your life or you let us assist you."

She watches as his Adam's apple bobs. "Why you?"

"Because I'm willing." She can't help the blush that creeps up her cheeks at just what that implies.

His groan and the way he throws his head back, eyes looking up at the ceiling, makes her wonder just how he interpreted the words. Maybe he reads them exactly as she thinks she meant them. She is willing. She always has been.

"Come on then," she says. "They've drawn you a bath, so the least you can do is make use of it."

He nods, and as he runs his fingers through his hair, she sees that the red on his cheeks has gone straight up to the tips of his ears. He does finally turn toward where the tub is located, hidden behind a screen. As he steps around the screen, Rey follows.

"Rey, you shouldn't be back here…"

"Who else is going to wash your hair and scrub your back?"

"I…" She knows that he knows that she's right. That's the valet's job after all. Take care of all those needs for his master.

"Come on then, off with this." She reaches out and tugs at the nightshirt.

"Rey…"

"Ben." She leans over and grasps the edges of it and pulls it up.

He allows her.

For a moment, he can't see her, the nightshirt covering his face as he helps her pull it over his head, and she has just a moment to study his body. She can feel her face heat as her eyes trace the lines of scars on his abdomen, the hard muscles of his smooth chest, the trail of hair that begins just below his belly button and leads to….

She tries not to let out a gasp.

He's hard, his cock large and heavy, jutting out almost obscenely from his body. As she straightens, her face comes close to it and she wonders what it would taste like.

That's not a very ladylike thought, Rey.

But she's just an orphan, near wild at times, acting as tame as she can while still entertaining such unladylike thoughts.

When the shirt is off, he's left standing completely bare before her and she sees the blush on his cheeks spread down his chest. He stands till, staring at her for a moment, eyes wide. And then his hands come up to cover his cock as best they can, and she realizes she shouldn't be staring.

It's just…

She's never seen a naked man in such a state before. She's seen the occasional man stripped of his clothes, usually bleeding profusely. A few who didn't make it, some who did. But those had been emergency situations and she had barely paid such things any mind in their shrunken state.

"Sorry," she finally mumbles.

"I should…" he starts to say, looks away from her.

"Right…yes…the bath. You should…get in?"

"Yes. That's usually…" He clears his throat. "Yes."

She lets out a little giggle and he looks back at her, eyes wide. And then he finally steps into the tub, sliding into the steaming water. Not that that makes much of a difference. She can still see him there, cock engorged, chest rising and falling just above the water line.

The water distorts things and beneath the surface, he looks even larger. "Do all…" she starts to ask and then clamps her lips shut, reaching to pick up the pitcher of water sitting next to the tub. Do all men look this big normally? "Let me take care of you," she says, the words a mere whisper. And she watches as he shivers, goosebumps breaking out across the skin of his shoulders and upper arms.

"Rey, this is not appropriate at all."

"We're at war, Ben. Appropriateness hardly seems to matter." How can it, when any one of them could be dead the next day? Ben could die out on the battlefield as he oversees their troops. Rey could die…or worse…if the castle were taken.

He nods, and as she picks up the pitcher, he leans back and closes his eyes. It's a bit of trust there, that he's giving her. She pours some of the water over his hair, letting it wet the dark strands. They're inky black when wet, and she uses her fingers to comb through the locks. The bar of lye soap sitting nearby will do nicely for washing and she's quite pleased to dip it into the water and lather it up. It's spiced with rosemary and sandalwood and something else she can't quite identify, the scent something she's come to associate with Ben without even realizing it. She supposes he's had it made up especially for his own use.

As she soaps up his hair, he groans, and she stops, hands still in his hair. She pauses, rinses his hair quickly with the water that remains in the pitcher. She's combing her fingers through his hair, scraping her nails lightly along his scalp, when his eyes open and find hers. She's surprised at just how light they are up this close. The dark irises are more amber there in the light from the nearby window. Her hand shifts of its own accord, running down the side of his face, cupping his cheek.

He makes a small noise in the back of his throat that goes straight to places she doesn't often think about, places she touches in the dark of night. "Ben," she whispers.

"I don't know what I'm doing here, Rey."

"Here…like…here?"

"Anywhere," he admits. His hand comes up and covers hers. She likes the weight of it against hers. His hands are large, the fingers long and broad, and there's a strength there that she finds she likes very much.

"I don't know what I'm doing either," she admits. She's not even sure if they're talking about the same thing in that moment, but she sees the way his pupils expand, his eyes going dark, as he stares at her.

"Good," he murmurs. "That's good."

She's not even sure who moves first, but suddenly her hand is fisted in his hair and his comes around the back of her head to pull her closer, and their lips meet. She's never kissed anyone before, never known what it likes to feel such an intimate part of someone's body pressed to hers. It's soft, featherlight.

He pulls back and she realizes his eyes are still open. "Am I supposed to close my eyes?" he asks.

"Surely you…"

"No," he says quickly. "Never. I don't…" He swallows hard. "I don't know anything." His mouth turns up in a half-smile. This isn't what she expected at all, not of him. Surely with the amount of women she hears whispering about the gorgeous prince, he could have had any number of them. Probably most of them. It's not like any of the servant girls would have turned down the advances of the prince.

She leans forward and kisses him again, a little harder this time. When he lets out a little gasp, she plies all the knowledge she's heard of other women talking of their exploits and sticks her tongue in his mouth.

He gags.

She pulls away in horror.

"Sorry," she murmurs.

"No, no…it was just…unexpected."

"Not what you wanted," she says and starts to pull back. His hand wraps around her wrist and tugs her back to him.

"Softer, I think," he says, and when she kisses him again this time, it's soft, open-mouthed. She dares to venture forth with her tongue again, this time touching the seam of lips with the tip. Soft, tentative.

He groans and sucks her tongue into his mouth and it's…the most amazing thing she's ever experienced. All that wet heat and the melding of their mouths together. She feels like she's floating, like her whole body has left the ground and the only thing that's anchoring her to the earth is Ben's lips.

Her hand comes out and presses against his chest. She can feel the heat of the water, just beneath it, can feel the smoothness of the skin there, the steam of the water making his skin slick. She's not even aware of what she's doing really, running her hand across his skin, and then her finger hits one of his nipples and he sucks in a breath.

She pulls back to look at him.

He looks wrecked, one hand still at the back of her head, the other gripping the edge of the tub. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he meets her eyes. "I am fighting this need to pull you into this tub with me."

Her eyes widen.

"Ben?"

"Do you know how long I've wanted you?" The words almost seem forced out of him, as if he's spent months denying it. "And then you come here to…what?"

"To prepare you? For going out into the field." A small laugh escapes her. "That's…that's all," she whispers. "Amilyn said you needed someone and so I came."

He groans at that and the hand on the back of her neck traces down the side of her face, down her neck, coming to rest just over her heart. "Is it?" he asks.

She puts her hand over his heart. She can feel it racing beneath her hand.

"No," she admits.

He nods and when he pulls her down for another kiss, she realizes there's something different about it. It's no longer soft, no longer sweet. His tongue rakes across hers and they fall into a pattern of give and take, of soft caresses of tongues and nibbles of teeth. He tugs at her bottom lip and she surges forward to wrap her arms around him.

Her dress is dangerously close to getting wet.

She doesn't care.

"What would happen if I pulled you in here?" he asks against her lips. "Would you scream? Would you bring the attention of the entire household to what we're doing here?"

"What are we doing here?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know."

"Is this a terrible thing?" Rey asks. She's remained pure, something everyone seems to think is important. But the truth is, she's not wanted any such thing. She's 22, certainly of marriageable age, and there have been boys who have been interested. But her interest has always laid solely with one person: Prince Benjamin Organa.

And she knows she can't have him.

Yet here they are.

"I don't think it is. Rey…" He murmurs her name and leans up to kiss her. "I would marry you if I could."

"Would you?" she asks. She's nothing more than a commoner, the product of a longstanding war between kingdoms, an orphan of the court. He's the prince of their land, next in line to take the throne. His mother is frail. It's only a matter of time before he's crowned king of the land and is told to choose his consort.

It cannot be her.

"I would." And then he narrows his eyes, sets his jaw. "I will." He strokes down the side of her face with the back of his hand and she's surprised that he comes up with a single tear. She hadn't felt it tracking down her cheek. "I will have no one else. I'll change the laws. I'll rip apart the entire kingdom if I have to." His eyes are fire as he stares into hers. "You're mine."

"Yes," she says.

And this time he does pull her into the water with him. She doesn't scream. She doesn't bring the whole household down on them. There's a splash of water, a little giggle that's swallowed by his lips meetings hers, and then groans from both of them as she settles onto his lap, feeling the hardness there.

He curses.

She laughs again.

"Are we really doing this?"

"I think so." His hands pluck at her wet shift where it clings to her legs. "You're entirely overdressed," he grumbles.

"I am, aren't I?" She leans down close to his ear. "What are you going to do about it, sir?"

He growls deep in his throat and sets to untying the laces of her corset. She's never been quite so thankful to be a servant than she is at that moment. Her laces are done up the front, easily accessible to him at that moment, rather than down the back like a fine lady's. He seems to have no issue with their location, as he plucks at the wet laces, fingers clumsy with desire. "I'd cut this off of you if I could."

"My, how positively beastly of you," she says.

He finally manages to get the laces untangled from each other. He loosens them, and instead of trying to undo the entire thing, just pulls at it, tossing it over her head and across the room. He grins at that, and she's surprised to see so much mirth on his face. She's not used to his smiling in such a way and she realizes she's forgotten just how beautiful he looks when he smiles. Plush lips stretched into a grin, slightly crooked teeth bared. He goes from the fearsome warrior prince to the sweet, adorable Ben she grew up tagging along after.

"I'm still overdressed," she says. Is she really so daring? She sits up slightly as Ben reaches down to the edge of her shift, pulling it up and over her head.

Water goes everywhere.

And now she's laughing in earnest. He leans up to kiss her, trying to swallow the laughter. "Oh dear Lord, we're leaving this place a mess," she gets out between kisses.

"I don't care," he says against her lips.

When she sinks back down, she can feel him there, pressing into the inside of her thigh. Their gasps come at the same time.

"I want to be inside you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to just below her ear, sucking her earlobe into his mouth and laving it with his tongue.

"Yes," she says as she feels a shiver trace down her back.

"Are you…"

"Am I…"

"Ready? I mean…" And now he's just stammering. "I don't know. I hear the other men talk. About bedding their wenches." He flinches at the word. "I mean…women. You know what I mean."

"I do."

His face is so red, he's starting to resemble a tomato.

"But I mean…they talk of first times. And pain…and…I don't want that." His eyes are filled with a strange sort of misery. "I want your…well, our….our first time. I want it to be good." He cringes a little, and she runs her fingers through his damp hair.

"Here," she says, taking his hand and pulling it into the water, down to her core. She can feel the slickness there, even in the heat of the water. She's more than just damp, and when his hand comes in contact with her, she's wracked with a whole-body shiver.

"Oh," he says, and there's wonder in his eyes. "That's…you? Not the water?"

"That's you," she says. "Because of you. Always because of you."

"So you're…"

"Ready? Yes. Please…" Don't make me beg, Benjamin. Don't make me say the words out loud. She doesn't know if she can, still can't quite believe it's come to this. She had gone to make sure he was taken care of. She hadn't intended this. But she supposes it's probably a long time coming.

He pauses then, a furrow forming between his brows.

She knows what he's thinking. "I could get pregnant," she says. "I don't care." The words are fierce. It's not that she wants to raise a child on her own, banished from their land and abhorred by all those she once held close to her heart. It's not that she wants to be nothing more than the prince's mistress. She wants to be his everything.

"Then I'll marry you."

"Ben…"

"I'm serious. I will anyway, even if you're not pregnant. Rey, you're mine. And I am yours."

"Ben, don't…you can't. You know you can't." She almost pulls away, almost climbs out of the tub.

He takes his hands out of the water, away from her core, and puts them on both sides of her face. She can smell a bit of the slick from her own arousal on his hands, can smell the sandalwood of the soap she had used to clean his hair. "Rey. Listen to me. I've never wanted anyone else. Just you."

"That's why…"

"Why I've never done any of this? Yes." The words come tumbling from his lips. "I've never wanted to bed any woman except you. I love you, Rey. I always have. Even when you were just this brat tagging after me." She laughs at that. "I didn't know then that the kind of protective love I felt for you could blossom into this. But then suddenly you were this beautiful woman and I couldn't imagine settling for less, for taking someone else to my bed, always wishing it were you."

"Ben…" His name breaks on a sob.

"Please, Rey. Tell me you're mine. Tell me I'm not alone in this."

"You're not," she answers his plea with. "You're not alone."

"Neither are you," he says, stroking down the side of her face. "You won't ever be. Not again."

And then he's shifting their position. She can feel him pressing at her entrance, the thick blunt head of his cock right there. He holds still.

He's letting her make the choice.

She can see him holding himself taut, his hands still on the side of her face, muscles in his arms quivering. He's holding back with everything he has, holding on to his desire by just a thread.

"I'm yours," she whispers and leans down to kiss him, just a soft melding of her lips to his. And then she sinks down onto him, letting the head of his cock slide into her just an inch or two.

She takes a deep breath.

There's a stretch there, but it's not painful. She's plenty wet, despite the water attempting to wash away her natural moisture.

His eyes don't leave hers as she sinks down another inch and pauses. He takes in a deep breath, nostrils flaring. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she says. "I think I am. It's just…you're large. I think…"

"I don't honestly know," he says, but there's a small tilt to his mouth that says that's a lie. He knows damned well he's large, and he's enjoying that fact.

And then she sinks down the rest of the way, taking as much of him in as she can. Her legs are shaking as she leans forward. His chin comes to rest on her shoulder and he curses softly.

Rey tilts her head and rests it again the soft, damp strands of his hair.

"You feel amazing," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of her shoulder.

She can't even get words out so instead lifts up a little and comes back down on him. He groans against her shoulder, and so she does it again. And again, riding him, feeling the drag of his cock inside her. It sets every nerve tingling.

But it's not enough.

"Rey, I don't think I'm going to last," he says, and his teeth graze her shoulder, nipping at it lightly. "If you keep doing that…"

She reaches for his hand then, bringing it down to her center, pressing it against that place she knows will get her to her orgasm quickly. She'd found it one night, alone in her room, and rubbed herself until she'd felt like a bowstring drawn taut. When her orgasm had washed over her, it had been such a relief, such an amazing thing to experience, that she's done it many times since. She knows her own body, knows what she likes. "Soft circles," she whispers, moving his finger for him.

He curses again but takes over as soon as she removes her hand from his.

She continues to move, and soon they're both lost to it all. She can feel herself tighten up. She's never imagined it could be better than her own hand bringing her to orgasm, but the feel of him hot and hard inside her adds a dimension to it that sends her careening closer and closer.

"Are you close?" he says through gritted teeth.

"Yes," she manages to get out. "A little harder."

He thrusts up into her, presses a little harder on her clit as he circles it, and then that bow string releases, and she comes, head pressed against his shoulder to muffle her cries.

He follows her over the edge a moment later, and she feels him come deep inside her. His own groan is choked back deep in his throat.

She collapses on top of him, his cock still deep inside her. He leans back against the edge of the tub, and she rests her head on his shoulder. "Ben," she starts to say.

His hand comes up to run along the messy buns at the back of her head, resting lightly on her neck, before he wraps his arms around her and pulls her tight against him. And then he's pressing messy kisses to her cheeks, pulling her back to kiss her lips over and over.

"That was…that was amazing," he says. Why did we wait so long?"

Rey laughs. "It might have something to do with your being a prince and my being nothing more than a maid?"

"No," he says, and he's serious then. "You're not a maid. Not anymore. You're my betrothed."

"Ben…we can't…"

"We can. And we will. I won't take no for an answer." Her skeptical look is met with a set chin. "I mean it, Rey. They can't keep us apart."

She doesn't know where all this came from. He's spent so long ignoring her, looking the other way. Was he pining the whole time as she was, hiding behind his royal family, afraid of what might happen if he showed such interest in her?

"They'll try."

"I don't care."

She finally takes a deep breath. "Then I suppose I am your betrothed."

He smiles at that, wide and beautiful, and then kisses her. "Now let's get out of this tub before I turn into a prune."

She laughs. "I'm afraid that might be too late. But you're right. We do need to get you ready for the battle."

"Battle? No," he says, still smiling. "Commander Dameron can handle that, I believe. I have other plans for this day." And he stands, lifting her in his arms as he does so. Her legs go around his waist and she lets out a small yelp.

He carries her to his bed and sets her lightly onto the feather-soft mattress. And when he lays next to her, hand roaming down to rest over her abdomen, she realizes that this is where she's always been meant to be.