The King's Wife |Kylo Ren x Reader|

XIV-The Beating of Your Heart

"I cannot speak for the others, but I would rather not be dressed in silence," you tell her sympathetically. "Speak."

Talea clears her throat. When she draws closer to fasten your bodice, you notice the red tint rimming her eyes and the pink splotchiness of her fair cheeks. "The healers are worried. Whatever it is, it is spreading quickly among the staff. I will offer myself for quarantine with the others once I've dressed you."

"What are the symptoms?"

"Just a chill, at first. Then dizziness. Some of the girls have fainted, others have been throwing up. They found a young page in his bed this morning. They say it was a seizure that took him. Only the healthy ones will be permitted around you and His Majesty." Talea shakes her head and pulls her trembling hands away. "I'm foolish. Foolish for putting you at risk like this, Your Grace. What if I have it too?"

"If you are here, dressing me, then you aren't sick."

"But-"

You brush her worries aside. "Help me tie my dress. The rest I can manage alone."

"Yes, Your Grace," she mumbles apologetically.

"See to it that a small table, food, and drink are brought onto my balcony. Lady Cerelia is going to join me soon." You brace a hand against your ribs as the teal bodice is fervently tightened.

Today's dress is a pretty one. Made of teal silk and lined with gold fabric that glitters when the light catches it. A thick, woven chain of gold droops from the planes of your neck, dipping from the weight of the heavy pendant and the teal gem attached to it. Matching earrings hang heavy from your earlobes.

You say nothing as Talea takes a step back. She waits a moment for another command and quickly realizes she will not receive one when she takes notice of your silence. As she flees from the room, you feel the swell of guilt wash over you. She must have thought she had done something wrong to displease you.

It is not her doings that have displeased you.

Nowadays, you feel you can scarcely recognize the woman in the mirror. It has been some time since your wedding and your coronation now, but you fear it has not been long enough for you to feel so poorly about your own performance as queen.

You take a deep breath and skirt your hand over the tight bodice. You meet the eyes of your reflection and run your fingertips over the softness of your cheeks and the plane of your temple. You look grey, you think to yourself, no longer enjoying the wealth and prestige your reflection is bathed in.

 As you ponder this change, you wonder how long ago it took place. When had you gone from being a little girl who only saw loose teeth in her smile to the woman who stood in front of the mirror and criticized everything dull in her eyes and plain in her features? If you cannot accept yourself, how will your people?

How will your husband?

You tear your gaze away, unable to take much more of it. Instead, you pull your attention to the balcony doors. The handles curve beneath your palms and click when you push down, pulling them inwards to reveal the suspended platform overlooking the city.

Talea's presence has not left you for long; there is another knock on the door that draws your attention from the beauty of the sights of the city. Your city.

The door groans open. A soldier accompanies two servants who have carried up the little, round table for your meeting with Lady Cerelia. The soldier bows his head and glances back at the two twitchy-looking boys. "Did you call for tables and chairs, Your Grace?"