Little Bird (Kylo Ren x Reader AU)

Make You Whole

The sun had set. The party had begun hours ago.

You'd remained upstairs during the opening service, the three-course meal, folding and flipping the hem on your dress. The fabric was slippery, soft, a cold creek on your skin--refreshing, liquid relief, filling your lungs with air that had never known enslavement. It was enough to trick you for seconds into thinking that you could slink down the steps without hesitation, find your Commander's eyes in the crowd, and sidle up to him. Like his partner.

But the lightless loneliness of your room crushed that dream.

A knock on the door, a hammerfist. "The Commander requests you."

You blushed--your cheeks were tight. "All right."

Greeting the Knight at your door, you followed him into the hall, down the steps. He didn't even pay you a second glance, but you'd kept your bonnet and your boots, not brave enough yet to let your hair hang free in front of anyone but Kylo Ren. Descending into the home, the tinkle of piano keys floated through your ears, joined by the babbling of strangers. The reality of it smacked you--you were about to reveal yourself to a crowd in a champagne-pink gown, with your wrists peeking out and your ankles kissed by chiffon. Your heart thumped--thank God you weren't in space, or you might have confused the heavy pain with an alien ready to burst through your chest.

Following dinner, light in the home was supplied only by strategic white candles placed on hall tables; you felt like a concubine, being led through a castle passage to the king, scurrying with your black-clad escort aided only by tiny flames. He guided you to the piano room, stopping at the threshold, but you were frozen. Just beyond the Knight you spied a few dozen people congregated together, some chatting, a few couples dancing to the music. You couldn't stand the thought of moving, of entering that room as if you belonged.

But you were a survivor. You did belong. After all, this was Ren's idea--not yours.

You swallowed, stuck your chin out, the click of your boots resonating up your calves as you crossed into the piano room. At first, you were invisible, an observer--you spied Armitage and Dolpheld chatting with an older, silver-haired man. The rest were faces you didn't recognize, except for two: Finn and Rey, swaying in rhythm, murmuring to each other under the melody. And then, at the back of the room, almost hidden by the crowd, you glimpsed him--your Commander, staring off into the wall while Johana, serene and smitten, guided him through a reluctant waltz. Something speared your gut. No dress in the world would afford you the ability to earn the space she occupied.

So strange you could envy her position under a man who was the very enforcer of your conflict.
The first people to spot you were Rey and Finn, pausing in confusion as they reconciled your appearance with their knowledge of your role. The next couple noticed them noticing you--and it spread. As if in a recording, each new person glimpsed you and stopped, a slow-pause of shock rippling from the epicenter of your dress. The final pairs of eyes belonged to Johana and Kylo Ren, their gazes searing you simultaneously. Her expression collapsed to something strange, muscles twitching with disbelief, a wave of horror spilling over her face. She blinked, an apparent impulse to tear herself away, but despite it, kept staring.

It was then that finally, crowd parted, you saw him--and the ground opened, a pit of lust swallowing you whole.

Commander Kylo Ren, in leather gloves, tugged at his sleeve, a black velvet jacket cut tight to his frame, open to a brocade waistcoat. A shift of his feet, wrapped in pointed, silver-toed boots, a tapered end to the trousers that were slim against his long, powerful legs. At his breast pocket, a sterling chain hung loose from his lapel, glinting in the candlelight, highlighting the absence of a tie. And his hair, full and thick, brushed his shoulders in raven waves, the crown swept into a loose, soft bun at the back of his head. He captured you in his gaze, paralyzing you, desire dripping from his eyes.