Royal Imitation | Kylo Ren

Game Of Imitation

He had managed to pull his black pants up from the middle of his thighs and over his indecency in the time that I had sprinted across the room, for fingerprints of blood were smeared across his lower abdomen of white muscle which gleamed in the moonlight, which was beginning to ebb into the blossoming of dawn.

With an outstretched, bloodied hand, Kylo Ren had used his force to slam the door that I now pressed my back against and there was no defying his undeniable ability, no matter how much I screamed and pulled against the golden knob.

I watched him as the intensity of the situation began to settle among my bones like thick cement and the heartache began to grow in the realisation of what that stare back at me, meant. The real Princess' portrait was hung above the wall behind him, her face casted with his tall shadow like a blank canvas, a space which is no longer filled.

The day of the wedding is upon us, but there is no longer hopes of an escape nor is there even an imagination of me walking down the aisle towards the face which is scowling at me as if I were the one to perish the world in which we both would own without true impartiality.

The summery glow which rises along the hills outside the window, filtered through as if it was the constant reminder of where I belong. I don't fit in the cold palace with golden plates and crowns, I belong among the endless hills of greeneries and beneath the golden suns, which burn my skin just the same as my joints do with hours spent picking.

Hot tears are flooding down my face, faster than the blood dries along his neck and more replaces the smear across his right cheek, where the wound is deep and scarring. I'm utterly terrified, more than I have ever been before as I choke on my own guttural sobs and blindly face my back to him as I pound my hands now against the door and cry for help – But as his footsteps thud behind me, I know that I am truely, doomed.

In one vicious yank, my hair is curled around his fist and he pulls me away from the door and practically throws me back upon the bed. My scalp feels violated as it ferociously stings and even locks of my hair are stuck against the blood of his hand.

Crying loudly as I claw myself now up the bed, my shaking fingers reaching back for the dagger which was my first weapon, all I can smell is Kylo's blood, my salty tears and the ever-present smell of sex, which had soon turned into nothing but murderous violence.

But just like the door, as soon as my fingertips graze the silver, the blade moves with the power of his force, slicing my palm as it soars through the air, curling the curtains of the balcony and embedding itself into a white pillar with a loud crack, as if there was a storm of lighting and that was the thunderous bellow of what was to come.

I suck a sharp breath inwards and curl my fingers against the raging pain in my hand, which bleeds quickly as the adrenaline which soars through my blood, intoxicates my heart to only shoot it out my wound without a care for the white and rich sheets of the bed, he and I, once stained with nothing but whispers of passion.

In one quick movement, I scream as I feel his wet and large hands smack upon the goose-bumped flesh of my hips and Kylo leaves me incredibly winded as he flips me over and nearly smacks the back of my skull against the headboard, only for me to now face his bloody wound and the pair of raging, murderous eyes above it.

Those disregarding eyes were as sharp as the knife that was used to also welt the wound in my cradled hand which I kept against my bare chest, which shudders as I heave for air but nothing but the fear was sucked into my tight lungs. Kylo Ren is quick to resume the position that we were once in, as he kneels above me and presses my wrists into the pillows with his revengeful grip which leaves bruises the moment his nails also prick the flesh.