Royal Imitation | Kylo Ren

Things Can Change

It's obvious that I am truely panicking now as my breathing becomes sharp and tears wield in my eyes, but just as Ruby kicks my ankle to get me to stop, Kylo tells me that everything is going to be okay and gives me a ghostly smile which could never fix the damage that he will eventually cause to all these people – And yet, arrogantly, my bones want to believe that warm smile, but it is the coldness of his eyes that always remind me of the stolen future.

I hate this. I hate the riots. I hate the Kingdom. I hate Kylo Ren and the way I am beginning to see the human within the monster of him. I don't think I can truely kill him, but every-time I think that, I am reminded that I didn't think I would ever murder anyone at all, and look at me now... I am two out of three down.

But I didn't feel guilt for accidentally murdering the King and his Brother, so why do I already feel guilty about the fact that I will eventually have to find a way to kill the handsome man beside me?

He tilted his head – A movement so imperceptible that no one but me would have noticed, and I knew he was searching for a way to try and read my thoughts without actually breaking his promise. My hands travelled to his in my lap and softly nestled into the twines of his long and rough fingers, squeezing for good measure as I match it with a fake smile.

I'm already confident with what I had figured out in a very short time, revolving the knowing of the mechanisms of his body, so complicit with mine, but like my thoughts, his heart was off limits and I could never be the one to understand the motivation between the clash of cruelty and passion within his beat.

I flick my gaze away from his sharply and shake my head to my feet as the crowds begin to disappear around the vehicle, meaning we should be heading to the dirt roads that lead to the far-off orchards.

My stomach sways nervously as I finally pluck the courage to glance out the window and just as I am met with the sight of tall grass waving me a welcoming of awaited-return, the wheels of the vehicle begin to rumble and grind along the stones of the twisted, off-road paths.

I can smell the sweetness of my home and yet, I do not forget my new place as I clear my voice and ask the ginger girl before me, "How long until we get there?"

Fifteen minutes, if the driver choses to take the left path – Ten if he chooses the right, where the road is much rougher and the tree-branches hang low, but the journey is much swifter.

"Shouldn't be too long," Ruby replies with a curt nod, her eyes avoiding the need to roll at my deceitful question, "Around twenty-five minutes."

Wrong.

A left turn and fifteen minutes later, the vehicle drives through the wooden gates of the orchards and the beauty of it hits me splendidly. A breath hitches in my throat as the car parks beside the rickety barn, where a group of girls, wearing their dirty uniform of aprons and tearing shoes, all rummage through the scraps which is spread along the table.

Heart always beating fast, it pulsates harshly in my ear drums and I can't help but to think that it is playing to a tune of my eventual downfall, for it is clearly going to be impossible to act nonchalant despite my inner war.

As I am helped out of the vehicle by Kylo, the breeze hits me and lays its gentle caress upon my withering soul, but even the sweet air cannot dull the acidic spin of panic which rises in my chest and flicks sharp daggers into my heart.

Soil laps over our shiny shoes, but unlike the others, I do not grimace at the soot that my heels softly sink into.

It was still early in the morning, only a couple of hours or so after the sunrise. The dew was still fresh and cold upon the small patches of grass which grew around the dirt hill that the barn sat upon. The cool air was a wintry onslaught to the warmth which cooed last time I was here and as I scuff the toes of my shoes into the dirt, I can't help but imagine Anwar laying in this very spot, after a StormTrooper had knocked him down.