The King's Wife |Kylo Ren x Reader|

X-The Engagement

When Kylo Ren awoke this morning, his breakfast had been abruptly interrupted by one of his Knights of Ren. Furious, he had demanded what was so important that it required his attention before the sun was even up. A council meeting had been called. Kylo had shoved back his blankets and stalked towards his wardrobe, angrily dressing himself while he muttered under his breath.

Now, he storms down the corridors with a clenched jaw and his cloak billowing behind him. With the pace he'd set, it snaps at his ankles dramatically and flares out as he rounds the corners. His escort was practically jogging to keep up with him. At the sight of their outraged monarch, the servants and attendants that had been peacefully making their rounds leap out of the way and press themselves flat against the walls, bowing their heads nervously as he passes.

"Did they say what it was about?" He all but barks towards the Knight trailing behind him.

"No, sire." He replies. "But whatever it is, it sounded urgent."

"I'll be the judge of that," Kylo mutters breathlessly, "the bastards."

The hour is merely blue. Twilight had painted the sky a cool cobalt; starless and endless as it stretches to meet the horizon. The palace is eerily silent at this time, save for a maid or two passing by or the distant clanking of armor. Torchlight flickers on the walls, casting shadows that dance for their king.

The thud of Kylo's heavy boots echoes through the emptiness, announcing his warpath to the unfortunate souls in his way. He already had enough to deal with. Today was your engagement party and he wanted to steer clear from it. Kylo hadn't seen you since the night of his birthday, only your unconscious form resting in your bed. It was that night he had decided on making you his bride. In fact, he'd given the order just before he heard about your accident.

Accident.

That word had been floating through the capital city for days now. An ironic word, to be sure, as he was one of the few individuals to know it was no accident. He'd heard many amusing rumors. You were wandering too close to the banister and had had too many drinks that night. One slip was all it would take. You had been sick of palace life and figured the stairs would be high enough to take your life. You were tired of being in the shadows and threw yourself from the steps for attention.

Both Kylo and Sir Vicrul had suspected it was a murder attempt the moment you were discovered at the bottom of the stairs. He watched you get carried away himself; bleeding from your temple, cheekbone bruised, dress torn. You were too much of a preservationist to throw yourself down that flight of stairs as a suicide attempt. Too aware of what others thought of you to do something like this for attention. And you certainly hadn't been drinking when he last saw you. He could remember how clear your eyes were when you were staring back at him in shock with his hand wrapped around your throat. Shock and lust. Kylo had certainly caught that beneath your horror. It only reinforced his theory that his little dove wasn't so innocent after all. What a good mask you had put on.

When you finally awoke, Kylo had been quick to send Sir Vicrul. He trusted him the most above the others and knew you trusted him equally. The knight reported back what you remembered seeing. The shadowy figure, the leather boots, gloves, and strong hands on your back. No wonder you momentarily believed that the king himself was pushing you.

Kylo recalls how you first officially met him. Not in the throne room, when you were staring at him like an idiot with your words caught in your throat, but when you physically ran into him in the hallways. Face drained of color, eyes wide, and clammy hands. Thinking that somebody was following you. It hadn't made much sense at the time. You weren't a contender and you hadn't made your mark. A murder attempt that early on was strangely suspicious. The chance that your stalker and your would-be killer were one in the same was high.