The King's Wife |Kylo Ren x Reader|

VI-Little Dove

Despite what had happened just the day before, the beauty of the gardens are not ruined for you. You could watch the sun set and rise over the treeline for hours, painting the paths and greenery in golden light. It beckons you to the edge of your room every night and at daybreak. And yet, as you stand on your balcony in the cool morning air and stare down at the rows of flowers and hedges below, the king's vicious words invade your mind.

He had seen right through you. Past the reserved nature your parents had instilled on you and through the shield you had cast around yourself. Had you known he was this clever, you would have taken more precautions before attempting to pry. The king was cunning; he had touched your hand so gently and helped you up from the ground. Only to lure you to a safe place and dig in his claws when you took the bait. All because you couldn't help your own curiosity.

"Do you feel caged, little dove?"

Was he right? Had you been locked in a cage your entire life? You bite your lip, deep in thought as the warm breeze ripples through your dress and pulls at your hair. He had told you himself that you were trapped. Trapped in the standards imposed upon you, trapped behind a title, and eternally stuck in a ruthless game of courting. Was it different now? Now that you were attempting to court the king?

Your fingers absentmindedly lift to trace the flesh of your throat. Just hours ago, his fingers had crossed your skin and slid over your rabbiting pulse. Little dove. Your heart had nearly dropped to your stomach when he said that. Not to mention that disturbing ache between your thighs. It was wrong, they had taught you, to feel those things. But you had felt them. Once with the knight, several times in between, and now with the king.

Was it a pet name? Was it meant to be affectionate? Or was he stating the truth? Calling you little dove because you were a helpless bird in a golden cage. Even now, you remember a time from when you were young when you overheard an older couple calling each other their moon and stars. That certainly felt more affectionate than the words of the king. And the look on his face.... Those dark eyes drilling in you while his tongue spat venom and his lips curled back. Like he was feeding off your fear before drawing himself back to reality. Whatever reality was.

Today, you wouldn't have to see him. That idea relieves you greatly. You glance down at the healing wounds on your hands from when Rowena pushed you. Her, you would have to face at the match. According to the servant who had helped dress you this morning, the king never attended jousting matches, even when they were in his honor. The servant had said that one of his knights would often compete just for fun; that they knew they would be victorious no matter what. Why his men risked their lives for fun, you didn't know.

The royal box would likely be full of those sorts of men today. Men who thrust themselves into action for the adrenaline rush. Men who would throw themselves in front of their king for his attention and admiration. And those poisonous women who sought to take your place. Rowena would likely have an evil eye for you, but Cerelia's presence would be a breath of fresh air.

You can already imagine what they would be wearing. Rowena likely in red silk and jewels that sparkled like the sky to show off the wealth her House possessed. Cerelia in pastels and silvers that contrasted the darkness of her long hair.

Your ladies maids had dressed you in a gown of velvet this morning. Deep, midnight blue that was only rivaled by the darkness of the night sky. The neckline plunged just to your decolletage and was embroidered by white. White ribbons crisscross and adorn your upper arm just briefly before tying into a bow at your elbow and falling short. The bell sleeves billow out at the crook of your arm, about the same length as the green dress that had been ruined yesterday. To grant at least some depth, the edges are embroidered with the same white thread and the insides of the sleeves are a few shades lighter than the rest of the blue. When your hands cross in front of your stomach, the sleeves fall to the bottom hem of your dress, that lightly graze the ground when you walk. The servant braided a white ribbon into your hair, letting the ends of the satin fall to your waist.