Witch!AU Reylo is always a good time 🤩🙌✨🔥
More art on my Instagram✨
Story blurb down below!👇
Rated T
cn // witches , witchcraft , kidnapping , fear of assault
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Kylo Ren stood in the cool shade of a tree, leaning against the wide trunk nonchalantly, ignoring the other people gathered there to take advantage of the respite from the heat. In the branches above him a mourning dove cooed, a soft sound among the chatter of people and the buzz of the cicadas.
In his hand was a piece of ashwood, small chunks carved out by the whittling knife in his other. He took care with his work, but his sharp eyes lifted every so often, focusing on the girl selling wares from her wagon across the dirt road from the tree. The heat did not seem to affect her much, her tanned skin evidence of her love for the sun.
Kylo watched her over the course of the day. She smiled at passersby, spoke matter-of-factly to those seeking tonics for ailments, laughed with a woman who seemed to enjoy telling local gossip to a new ear, and now seemed very unaffected by the flirtations of a young man.
Kylo’s eyes narrowed, his hands stilling. The boy was persistent, and she was getting irritated. When the boy tried to reach for her hand, Kylo watched as she let him, pulling close enough for her to whisper something in his ear. Kylo’s skin tingled as the magic wove through the air. The boy staggered back, a dazed look on his face, and then wandered away.
A repelling spell. Kylo scoffed. Smart. But not very smart to do something like that out here, in the open, where anyone could see. The girl’s eyes darted about, looking for the alerted gaze of someone who may have noticed her act of forbidden magic, but there was only one audience member to her indiscretion, and he had his hood up, enchanted to ward off any notice. He was as if part of the shadows; unassuming and forgettable. Her eyes slid over him as expected, and Kylo smirked, returning to his whittling.
She was the reason he was stood here, sweltering in his black robes and armor. She was a witch, even though she tried to hide it behind her simple tonics and herbs. He’d been tracking her for days, and finally caught up with her here.
He was on a mission from his master to capture her, and even though he knew not what the purpose was--she was hardly trained, seeming only to be able to harness the bare minimum of power afforded to their kind--but Kylo was not going to question it.
In the shade of the tree, Kylo wiped the sweat from his brow and adjusted his position against the rough bark of the trunk. In his hands the knife moved through the wood object, its shape taking form.
It wouldn’t be difficult to snatch her. He already had a plan; all he had to do now was wait.
--O*O--
Rey finished gathering up her wares from the table she had set up outside her wagon home, bringing them up the steps to place in the cabinet designed to neatly hold them. It had been a lucrative day, so there weren’t as many going in as she had taken out, and she patted her coin purse with a smile before hiding it.
She folded the table next to bring it inside as well, setting it back up in front of the bench seat along the right wall. Her wagon was a modest home, but cozy. Her bed was along the back wall, a nest filled with blankets and pillows, an array colorful beads on hanging strings glittered from the waning sunlight coming in through a small window.
The left side wall contained more cabinets with dishware and food, jars with herbs and preserves, and a small woodfire stove. The right side wall had more cabinets still, although these ones were kept locked. Inside were books, old scrolls, and grimoires, but also some amulets and dangerous items not meant to be handled by innocent humans.
Rey couldn’t afford to be caught, so she hid them behind concealing charms and repelling spells. No one would search those cabinets because they would seem far too boring to garner any attention.
She’d already had a close call earlier in the day, when an inquisitive constable had approached her table. He’d carried a large cross hung from his neck, and a sharp look to his eyes. She’d smiled broadly at him, hoping he couldn’t see the anxiety making her sweat. It’s just the heat, she would have said if he’d asked.
“‘Tonics and tinctures,’ eh? You a witch?” He’d crudely asked, not even trying to be tactful.
“My great great grandmother was one, sir,” she answered, a lie, probably, since she didn’t know her family, “but all I have is a penchant for medicines. I have a signed letter from a priest, Christening me as a Holy Hand.”
Most people like her did that--connected themselves to a church to avoid being burned at the stake. They were less likely to be looked at with contempt if it seemed like they were doing God’s work.
Rey just needed money to get away. To go anywhere. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but so far she hadn’t found it.
The constable had looked over her letter with a critical eye, but ultimately gave it back and continued on his way with a gruff, “Don’t stay too long.”
It was a warning she would heed. She’d be on the road by first light in the morning.
Rey brought feed and water to her Clydesdale, murmuring softly to him as he munched. “On to the next town in the morning, Bibi.” Then she whispered a spell to strengthen him and climbed the steps back up into her home. Being a Clydesdale, Bibi was the only kind of horse able to pull her wooden camper by himself, but she still tried to help with whatever magic she could manage.
Rey shut the wooden door and made a simple meal of bread and vegetable soup, eating at the table silently. By the dying light from the three windows about the cabin, Rey knew it was time to draw the curtains and ready for bed. The lamps filled the small home with warm light, and she was just reaching to untie her corset when a knock came on the door.
Rey frowned, going to it. There was a latch to open a small window and see who was calling, but it was still difficult to make out the shadowy features of the hooded man standing outside.
“I’m closed for the evening,” she said. “If you need something I can help you in the morning.”
She closed the latch before the man could answer, a wave of cold gooseflesh making her shiver. The visitor was silent, and she wondered if he’d walked away after a moment of not detecting any sound. She moved to her small closet again when the door latch clicked and swung open.
Rey stood straight, alarmed, sure that she’d locked it.
“I’m closed,” she said with more conviction, the words for her repelling spell on the tip of her tongue.
The man who entered her humble dwelling had to duck to get through the small door frame, and his head nearly brushed against the roof. He was broad, dressed in black, and as he entered Rey saw the flash of red gems embedded in the hilt of his sword at his hip.
She sucked in a breath. An inquisitor? Here? Had the constable sent for one?
But no, he didn’t carry any sign of the cross, nor did he have the stench of smoke that seemed to permeate an inquisitor as if their souls were made of ash.
This man had a darkness about him, but he was no witch burner.
He removed his hood and suddenly Rey felt like her eyes could focus again. She frowned, blinking. Strange. He was handsome, with dark hair in waves to his shoulders, a large nose somehow more elegant than ugly, and piercing eyes the color of whiskey. He seemed to not care that she had already told him twice she was not open.
Rey swallowed but steeled herself. She’d warded off enough men in her life to be able to take this one on easily.
His eyes went from scanning her to roaming around her living space. She couldn’t help to feel judged, and it made her scowl.
“If you need something, I can help you in the morning,” she said, voice hard. “Please leave.”
He finally looked back at her. Somehow he seemed to fill the entire wagon up with his presence, even though he was still standing in front of the door. That it was open helped Rey feel less trapped.
“I’m looking for something,” he said, ignoring her again. “A kind of herb. Willow’s Needle.”
Rey shook her head. “Willow’s Needle is a forbidden herb, used only by witches. I’m one of the Holy Hand, I don’t do witchcraft. Here,” she found the priest's letter and held it out for him. She tried to control the shaking of her hand. “It’s signed by Father Michael from--”
There was a gust of wind from the open door, blowing the letter from her hand and extinguishing all but one lamp that hung above her bed. The door swung shut, enclosing them together.
Rey stepped back, her heart thundering. The man stood still, staring at her with dark eyes.
“Are you here to kill me?” She asked, thinking of the knives kept in the drawer by the stove. The man was closer, but Rey knew that even if she could get one it would be no match for his sword. And even then, she had a feeling this man was far deadlier than the piece of sharpened metal at his side.
“No,” he said, taking a slow step forward. He was like an encroaching black cloud, and for all the magic Rey knew she had under her fingertips, she was finding herself far too overwhelmed by his presence to think straight enough to use it.
“Don’t be afraid,” he told her quietly, within arms reach now. “I feel it too.”
“Feel what?” Rey whispered.
His lips quirked up on one side.
“Magic.”
His hands rose and Rey took an alarmed step back, gathering strength to try and throw him with a spell, but she stopped. Lights began to sparkle to life as he whispered into his cupped hands, a dazzling display of power that Rey hadn’t witnessed in years. Not since she was a child, before she was taught to keep hidden.
Her curtains were closed so one would see this forbidden show except her, but it still felt like she shouldn’t even be looking. What if someone saw? What if they accused her of it?
The man lowered his hands to show her his creation, and Rey stepped closer, entranced, warmed by the light. She gave a delighted gasp at the tiny bird made of magic nestled in his gloved palms, and she glanced up to see a much softer expression as he watched her in turn. Rey looked back at the bird, shy in the face of this nameless man’s attention. This rare male witch.
All at once it didn’t matter that he had barged into her home and frightened her. He was like her, and maybe that meant he was lonely too. Maybe he was here to find a traveling partner. Someone to be himself with.
Rey’s heart ached to be truly seen by someone who wouldn’t be afraid of her.
She’d instinctively held her arms to her chest in a shield when he’d advanced, but now one hand unclenched, wanting to show she wasn’t afraid, that she accepted his magic. The little bird chirped a twinkling song, and Rey smiled, wanting to see if it was as soft as it looked.
“Go on,” the man murmured, as if he could hear her thoughts. “You can take it.”
Rey smiled and accepted the warm illusion into her own palms. It was a very convincing mirage, one she had never been able to conjure herself. She looked up again, but the man’s face was closed again, his eyes sharp, and all at once Rey felt the illusion evaporate. As soon as the small wooden carving of a bird touched her skin, her whole body froze.
She couldn’t move. Only her eyes widened in horror at her error. Ashwood.
“It’s a paralysis charm,” he explained as her dread rose. “Carved into the wood. A simple thing, really. Any witch worth her salt would have been able to detect it.” He stepped close, all warmth gone, his cold eyes calculating as they scanned her frozen form once again.
“I don’t know why my master would want a weak vagrant like you, but I suppose you’ll have your uses.”
Rey could only whimper at the implication, and she wished she could move and fight back. But her hands had seized around the bird figurine as if in a cramp, and she knew she would not become unfrozen until it was no longer in her grasp.
The dark witch-man bent and easily picked her up into his arms, her body pliant but still out of her control. He took the few steps to her bed and settled her down in the pillows. Her eyes watched him fearfully, the worst thoughts of his intentions flitting across her mind, a desperation beginning to bloom in her breast that nearly had her whining in an attempt to beg him not to defile her.
But he actually pulled the edge of her skirts down to cover her exposed calves, and then straightened, not giving her unguarded body a second glance.
“You should try to sleep,” he told her. “Fretting won’t do you any good, and the spell won’t go away until the bird does.”
And then he turned and left, the wood creaking beneath his heavy boots, the door clicking shut behind him. Rey heard the lock latch into place, and then the sounds of heavy hoofs, and straps being moved. The wagon lurched as Bibi was attached to his leads, unfamiliar with the man doing it. Rey willed the horse to stomp him, to run away and find help for her, but she felt a wall in her mind.
Whoever this witch-man was, he was far more powerful a person than Rey had ever encountered before.
She heard boots climbing to the perch near the window by her bed, and then the flick of reins. The next time the wagon lurched, it stayed in motion, the whole cabin swaying and jostling from the unpaved road.
Rey had no idea where she was being taken, or by whom, but she knew if she was going to survive this kidnapping she was going to have to use all of her wits she could muster.
Anything less and she was sure to succumb to whatever dark agenda awaited her at the end of this journey.
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