He had been so foolish back then.

He had vague memories of a life lived without difficulty, of a hunting party, of falling from his horse. When he awoke, the world was a changed place and a lone figure stood before him.

"You seek power," it said, with a thousand voices at once.

He felt bound to the ground, his limbs locked in place. "I want for nothing."

"Ah, but I see how you live in the shadow of your father. How you feel the neglect from your mother. How you want nothing more than to leave your mark on this world."

There were no words for that. It was the worst perspective on the truth, and it was horribly compelling.

"I can give you those things. I can give you power beyond your understanding."

Fool that he was, he accepted the hand outstretched towards him.

And then he had power. Power beyond imagining in the mortal realm, command of a thousand wraiths. But it was an empty promise; he was between worlds, neither here nor there, and you cannot leave a mark on a place that you do not inhabit. Years passed. He felt everything and indulged every passion but grew hollow as a rotten tree. He almost began to long for his sacrifice to hell and the release that it represented. But others were chosen, time after time, so he stayed the same. And same he might have stayed forever, had he not met her.

He felt the disturbance of her almost immediately, a ripple in the other realm. When he went to investigate, it was like being knocked off his feet. Her mind was like nothing that he had ever felt before, her experiences unique. She was full of curiosity and passion, her spirit a fierce and unbowed thing. It took his breath away.

The law technically dictated that the debt be paid as soon as possible. But he stretched the limits of it, used years of reserves of power to have more visits, more chances to watch her flourish. It was almost enough to make him want to put off the bedding indefinitely.

Almost. Even as a half-man, he did have urges, and she was painfully beautiful.

He felt her dismay when she returned and he was gone. It wounded him, but the King was watchful, having noticed his small transgressions. It was difficult enough to stretch the contract; to return without one would be foolhardy.

She was probably better off without him in any case.

But then she had come back to pull that poison, her intentions so clear and determined that he had felt them straightaway. The boundaries between worlds were thin then, much thinner for the nearness of Halloween, and he threw caution to the wind in his panic.

In front of her determination, it felt a shameful thing to be cowardly.

So when she said she would save him, he believed her.

They spoke little as she led him back to the castle. When they entered the gatehouse, they encountered a wave of curiosity almost immediately, shocked glances taking in his strange form. But she pushed ahead, into the keep and up to the great hall, seemingly looking for someone specific. No doubt the guardian that she had mentioned.

Not that he could confirm that as he could have before. It was strange to only have his own thoughts in his head once more, after so many years of sharing that space. Oddly peaceful.

"Master Luke," she called out, suddenly breaking out into a run that he had to half-skip to keep up with. A grizzled man with worn skin and a grey beard turned at her call. "You asked who would give the babe its name- I have brought him here."

Her guardian was immediately wary. As well he should be. Kylo was suddenly acutely aware of the clothes that didn't fit him, the cloak that belonged to her, his bare feet. He should be arriving to ask for her hand with a retinue and piles of gifts that she deserved, jewels and furs. Not just himself.

Unsure about what to do, he offered a quick bow.

Rey beamed back and forth between them.

Master Luke seemed to be holding back a sigh. "May I know your name?"

"Kylo Ren."

"Not a name I recognize."

"I have… Been gone for quite some time."

Master Luke narrowed his eyes. "How long?"

He wasn't exactly sure. "Near a hundred years."

The silence in the hall was complete at that. Master Luke, to his credit, recovered first. "Are you a man of any means?"

"I was once. Roxbrugh was my ancestral home. I do not know if it still stands."

Another silence. "As it happens," Master Luke finally said, "I recently cleared what remains of Roxbrugh of raiders. The King has promised me recompense for my efforts; I will request that the title be passed to you." He looked to Rey. "My beloved daughter deserves no less."

It was galling to accept this man's help, clearly grudging as it was. But he looked at Rey, who was beaming, delighted with this turn of events. He stamped his pride down. "Thank you."

The wedding was small, held only in front of her guardian. She wore green and wound flowers in her hair again. He found a tunic that actually fit. They said their vows and he gave her a ring, one quickly made of iron by the castle's blacksmith.

Her guardian set aside a room for them, a space while Roxbrugh was being refurbished. When the servants withdrew, he saw that she was twisting her hands together, shoulders tense. Her hair was loose, draped over her shoulder, and it almost looked like she was trying to hide behind it. When he took her face in his hands, she met his eyes but bit her lip, looking nervous.

"Why are you shy?" She had no need to be.

"I am…" she shifted a little, "larger than when we last met." Her hands protectively wrapped around the curve of her stomach, as if trying to press it back into shape.

But that made no sense. He moved her hands aside and replaced them with his own, trying to be gentle, reassuring. "You are more beautiful for it."

And there was that blush, spreading all the way from her cheeks to her chest, under her nightdress. He wanted to see the rest of it. The blush became deeper as he worked the laces open, stripping her down until she was shivering in front of the fire, her body a vision of curves.

He frowned and went to reach for the furs on the bed. "Are you cold?"

"No," she said quietly. When he cocked his head, she bit her lip again. "Excited."

Dropping the blankets, he moved to kiss her but she pressed her hands against his chest. "Your turn, now. I didn't get to see any of you last time."

Obediently shuffling out of his nightshirt, he was pleased to see her shyness recede as her eyes roved over him.

"Husband," she said quietly.

"Wife," he agreed.

They moved to the bed and he resumed his exploration; he was vaguely worried about her condition, not certain about what might harm the babe. He was about to move down her front when she surprised him by pushing him over onto his back, straddling him and pressing a kiss onto his lips.

"You," she started, "you awoke things in me that I didn't know I could feel."

Her hands gripped his length and words were suddenly very difficult. "I- I did?"

"After you disappeared, I had to make do with my own hands."

God's bones. "You- what?"

"You made me bold," she whispered. She was watching him closely as she moved her hands, seemingly trying to work out what felt good for him. Had he been able to speak, he would've explained that basically anything she did felt good. "I would never have dared before, but I had to try and feel that again."

He managed a groan.

"Does it excite you to know that?"

He nodded so fast that his neck almost hurt at the strain. There had been a fair share of maids in Carterhaugh- he had just taken gifts or dresses from most, but there had been some beddings. But maids, by their nature, were usually shy. They'd never climbed onto him and looked at him with such a wicked grin as Rey was currently doing. It was intoxicating.

She settled on stroking, which he decided was absolutely excellent. "I used my fingers late at night, in my bed, but it never felt like you. I thought of you as I did so, desperate to feel you inside me again."

He was desperate too, now. When he reached out, he ran his fingers up her leg to find that she was wet and ready, somehow faster than should have been possible. She smiled a little more when he groaned again

"I longed for you," she whispered, positioning herself so that she rubbed against him, small movements that made his hips move of their own accord. "No release was as beautiful as the one you gave me."

"Please," he managed, barely a croak.

Her cry was glorious as she pushed down onto him, her fingers curling against his chest. She was tight and wet and hot and he could hardly believe- even looking at the ring on her hand, it still seemed impossible- that she was his to keep.

"Kylo," she moaned, rocking back and forth, strong legs pushing against him. He desperately wanted to buck against her, but he controlled himself, moving a hand down her front and looking for that small place where she derived her pleasure. He knew he had found it when she suddenly clenched around him, twisting, clapping her hands to her mouth. "Oh!"

His wife. His Rey. His beautiful Rey. "Is it as good as you hoped?" he asked, pressing in small circles as she writhed above him. "Am I as good as your imaginings?"

"Better," she gasped, almost a sob. "Oh, so much better."

When she reached her peak, keening and shaking, his control slid away. Holding her slightly aloft, careful to press his hands to her ribs rather than putting pressure on her waist, he pushed upwards, over and over and over until he felt the beginnings of his own release, blinding and perfect and made more intense by her satisfied gaze.

She leaned down and wrapped her arms around him as he shuddered into her, kissing him deeply and swallowing his moans. Yes, it was far better to be fully man, to fully feel the love of a woman.

"My lord, a son!"

The squire burst through the door of the great hall of Roxbrugh, calling out the news. Kylo was sitting at the head table, bouncing his bonny wee Catriona on his knee, her small sticky fingers making quick work of a honey iced bun. A nursemaid stood by with Ailsa on her hip, trying to coax the young one to eat a little bit of soft apple. Both of them had been anxious for hours, listening to their mother's cries. Almost as anxious as he had been.

He quickly passed Catriona to a standing servant, breaking out at a sprint down the hall. Men at arms leapt out of the way as he barreled by them, no doubt smiling at each other after he passed.

When he threw her door open, relief coursed through his bones to see that she was smiling, holding the babe close to her breast. She looked tired, but well. Thank the blessed Lord above and His whole host of heavenly angels.

He went to her side and perched on the bed, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Well done, my love. As always."

She smiled and leaned into his hand. "Are the girls well?"

"Ailsa is restless. Catriona has eaten most of the iced buns in the county."

That coaxed a laugh. God, how he'd missed that in her confinement. He'd taken to sneaking in when the servants were asleep, giving her kisses as she laughed at him, lord of the manor, too scared to take the midwife on directly. "She has my appetite," Rey murmured. "Would you like to hold him?"

He leaned over and took the small bundle, noting the thatch of dark hair. "He looks strong."

"Like his Father. A son at last."

For some reason, that comment stung. "I would've been just as pleased with another daughter."

She seemed to like that. "I know."

Running his hand along the soft skin of his son's face, he marvelled at the perfection of a creature so small and so fully formed. "I've had another crib made lined with iron."

Her face darkened. "You still worry that they would come for one of them?"

"I'll never stop worrying." He put his son back in Rey's arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But we can make sure it doesn't happen."

"Why do they want children?"

He took her hand with a firm grip. "To have children is a very human thing, and they envy it." It was such a sign of undiluted life. "As they should."

Rey grinned at him. "But they're such messy things."

"It's how life should be." He lifted her hand to his lips. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you as well." She shifted lightly. "I hope I recover soon."

He shot her a goggle-eyed look. "Surely you can't be thinking of another babe already?"

Throwing her head back, she laughed out loud before she grimaced. "Perhaps not immediately." She closed her eyes and leaned back into the pillows. "But they'll never be lonely, will they? Not like I was. Or like you were."

The windows had finally been opened and the cloths taken down in preparation for her churching; the light streamed in the room and made the space glow again, filled with fresh air and promise. She looked exhausted. But somehow, in that moment, he was reminded of the fierce creature who insisted to him that she would come and go as she pleased. That there were many roses, and that she would never ask leave of anyone. For anything.

"Never," he agreed. "Never."

Author's Notes:

Medieval marriages did not have to be conducted in front of a priest or at a church. It was literally only necessary for both sides to provide their consent.

Confinement in pregnancy involved withdrawing to a quiet space during the last few months, usually in a room with fabric draped over the windows and no fresh air allowed. In theory, this was to stop the mother from catching any illnesses or getting too excitable and endangering the baby. Men were also forbidden.

Churching, in contrast, was the ceremony where the mother returned to public life.

Iron around a crib is a traditional folk practice for keeping faeries away from babies and preventing changelings.

Thank you for reading!