Royal Imitation | Kylo Ren

Thorns And Blades

It only makes matters worse when Ruby Mayse and Prince Dayvis, are somewhere in the palace right now, tucked tightly in their beds with their eyes and ears wide open, awaiting the news of Kylo Ren's death tonight, though it shall never come. Conflict burns in the joints of my bones. I can't kill him. I can't run from him. And I can't stay by his side – What else is there to even do?

I huff a broken breath as I finally stand from my place in the barn, where the soft winds howl through the gaps in the wooden panelling and there's a slight smell of metallic against the grimy smell of soot. Anwar's not coming. Maybe, he had gotten preoccupied with handling all The Resistance plans for our escape tomorrow?

I saunter back to Kylo and I's quarters, although he is not there to keep me warm as I curl against myself beneath the heavy sheets and tuck my hand beneath my head and pillow, my fingertips grazing the knife which Anwar had given to me only days ago. 

My eyelids never become heavy as I keep them staring at the way the breeze causes the lace curtains of the balcony, to sway in the moonlight, like waves would softly lap against the shore. I wonder what Anwar wanted to speak about, so urgently in the barn, but I knew that it was most likely just going to be us going over the plan for today, once again – But why hadn't he shown up? Had he forgotten? Or fallen asleep? The latter option wouldn't surprise me, I had often joked that the blonde boy could sleep through a war. 

I can hear my heart's anguished symphony playing even now and in the bittersweet melody, I can only sing a chorus of shadowed infuriation at my own benevolence for falling to the beat of Kylo Ren. It shouldn't be this painful – The bed shouldn't feel cold without him. 

The sheets wrap around me in a cocoon of old insecurity which when slept upon, feels sharp in the midnight fear which takes ahold of my soul, multiplying my worries and delaying my will to leave Jorkhan. 

Just when my chin begins to tremble into the white sheets, which soften beneath the weight of my quick tears, I finally acknowledge that Jorkhan truely, never gave me anything worth staying for – But Kylo Ren is making me wish to keep my feet upon the ground, though I cannot dig my heels into the soil to stay by his dreamy side, for I would be digging the graves of every soul in Jorkhan with that stupid choice, which is only considered by my saddened, beating heart. 

 And that sadness will last for all of my eternity away from him. It'll be like this forever.

Forever. What a strange word, when I don't even know what the future holds in a life lived away from Jorkhan, away from this imitation.

My bones slump like fallen oak into the mattress, leaden. I feel more so a corpse than a girl – Than a Queen – I was nothing but a host for all of the ashes of my frail attempts to keep my heart docked away from Kylo Ren, where instead of anchoring it down, it merely tipped into his sea. 

He isn't my light at the end of this tunnel, he is the intense darkness but the flicker in the void is what channels me into it. It's an unexplainable feeling and phenomenon, which both intrigues and scares me, whilst also smacking me harshly with a yearning for the adrenaline which follows.

He's the darkest of nights. He's a haunting devote of a nightmare – He's nothing but a shadow, a tall, broad shadow, who stands in the doorway of my bedroom, breathing in deeply and staring me down with eyes of fire, which flicker in the moonlight with an emotion, I can't quite place.

"Kylo –" I sit up from the bed and choke on my own words, "Y-You're still up?"

I honestly, never thought that I would see him again, and yet, here he is... Always surprising me and giving me a tighter grip upon his anchoring, when the rising of the storm, which he creates himself, is beginning to drown me with antagonistic conflict.