Royal Imitation | Kylo Ren

Fate's Plan

"Okay, it's happening. Everybody stay calm!" – Michael Scott.

At first, there was only a deep darkness. Not quite the hot dark of embers, but a soft, hopeful dark, where there was nothing in the void that could hurt me, other than the shapes that my own eyes would fabricate to fill the blank.

It's a certain darkness that comes just after your eyes flutter shut beneath the sheets of a thousand curtains, or a kind of dark that helps the night terrors cling onto the overbearing bland.

I can only hear the sheer beat of my futile heart. I can only smell the fragrance of wet grass or soil, that slosh around my feet, although, I cannot see either of the world's surface.

I call out for help, but there's nobody here to hear my callings other than my own echo, it seems.

My scream rattles and shrieks all around the void, banging on imaginary corners and booming straight back to me, until it softly fades away.

That pensive beat of a drumming heart returns, and at first, that is all that creates a sinful, treacherous melody – But then I hear it...

Music. Stringing chords. Drums of leather. A choir of sorts from the banquets. I can't hear what their singing, no matter how hard I try to listen. They're speaking in a soft tune, a harrowing rhythm that soothes the beat of my heart to a dense throb that slows so much, it eventually shocks me back to life when it thrashes itself against the cage of bones around it, in attempts to fasten its pace to normal.

All at once, with that rupture against my ribs, I am thrown to the floor on my hands and knees, and I cry out in the hazy fall, which doesn't just smack me to the surface quickly, instead, I fall for years and years until then I see her, reaching out to me with a frightened face and extended limbs, bracing for impact.

I furrow my brows in the fall and she does the same. She is me. She is my own, liquified reflection. I flinch and finally bury my hands in the thin pool around me.

Suddenly, there is a light and I am the shadow of my own reflection. That same blackness submerges me into its chaotic ink, but the water around me swirls and withdraws in my fall, whilst keeping me in my place of its icy touch.

The choir is softer now, but as I stare at my own reflection, I become immobilised in my terrified eyes that shine around the golden hue which enlightens a halo around me.

The crown is upon my head and so is the birthmark below my eye. I touch it gingerly with the tips of my shaking fingers whilst the gold of my crown shines. Just as flesh meets flesh, I notice that the choir is drawing closer. They're singing something else now, something darker than the void and heavier than the thick tension.

I hiss out loud when the mark upon my cheek burns my fingers and I withdraw my touch and glare into the pond. The gold is brighter and as loud in the jewels as the choir has become, only, it wasn't the gleamy glitzing of my crown, it was something much more valuable that shined from behind me.

My breathing becomes heavy and I turn to face it.

The dark that encourages me to meet the light, gives me a drawing sense of turning into a slip that dragged me straight to the deepest depths of my unconsciousness, blissfully unaware of the way I tossed and turned in bed, and instead, kneeling me to the divine creation that brought me so remorsefully to the heat of it as if I was a moth to the sun's beam.

He's got a smile of an angel, but the soul of the devil himself.

Around his figure, is that type of dark that creates a complete, solar eclipse around him, flickering against the golden light, the noise of the choir and the feeling of breathing. The light came straight from the orbs of his brown eyes, lightening them to an illumination that reflects off the crown upon my head, leaving me in the silence of serenity for a few seconds until I called his name.