The King's Wife |Kylo Ren x Reader|

XXVIII-They March On

Secrets were fickle things among the court.

Arriving back to the palace several days later in funeral black certainly stirred its share of whispers and glances. Why had the king and queen suddenly disappeared for days on end? Why, in the midst of a war? Why had they returned in mourning clothes? Though no one was bold enough to ask it of their monarchs, it was obvious in their stares. The way they leaned in to murmur to one another with their shameless gossip.

Upon your first arrival, the gossip had been something to fear. Like a giant web full of spiders waiting for the clueless fly to get tangled in its sticky strands. Now, it is beneath you. The ladies and lords of the court, though useful in their alliances, were nothing but rumor mongers. So desperate to be part of royal life that they had to envision their own versions of it to feel some semblance of being special.

Though, you supposed the gossip wasn't as harmful this time around, seeing as it wasn't your secret to bear.

It was Kylo's.

He'd been so sullen and silent at the funeral of his grandfather; a lifeless statue sculpted with a clenched jaw, tense shoulders, and limp hands. During the carriage ride back, he'd been quieter than normal, which had been an event by itself considering he hardly ever spoke at all.

It was always easy to see when he was thinking. Those dark eyes of his practically brewing with thoughts and ideas. The cogs turning in the dark chasm of a clock that just kept spinning faster and faster until it was out of control.

The grief was an odd thing. For you, it had been hard and fast, like a runaway carriage barreling towards a cliff. Tears and anger and denial. For him, it was more... visceral, yet entirely hidden away. Hidden beneath that mask he always wore. The one of stubbornness that never slipped, never showed any flickers of weakness.

It began with that stony expression at the funeral. With those eyes of his trained on the pyre that carried his grandfather's spirit away. It followed with cold silence in the carriage, watching the landscape pass with teeth caged so hard, you were certain they'd crack. When you arrived home, it was almost like someone had yanked back the curtains. He'd been out of the carriage in seconds, storming away from you as if you were the one who had caused this. You hadn't been angry with him; he was grieving, of course.

Over the next few days, Kylo had been trying to distract himself. He likely thought you couldn't notice, but you noticed every little thing about him. The way he kept to his side of the bed, rose earlier, and ate his breakfast so fast it practically vanished within a blink. The way he buried himself in his work; immersing himself in endless meetings, reading and signing mountains of decrees, visiting with dignitaries, and hearing grievances. It went on like that for a while. Him, working himself to the bone, making himself so tired, he would return to your quarters and simply collapse into bed.

Then the anger started.

That pent-up fury of his that was so horrifyingly terrifying. Kylo would walk around with a dark cloud hanging over him. Hunched, tensed, clenching his gloved fists and shooting venomous glares at anyone who looked at him funny. He'd bark at guards and yell at his council. Flinging around trays of food the servants brought in if they didn't meet his standards somehow. He kept things curt with you, giving snappy replies and short answers sparked with annoyance.

You never knew which one was more chilling; his haunting silence or his furious outbursts. It was during those outbursts, you were reminded of his strength. Of what he could do. One morning, he'd been angry enough to break one of the tables in your quarters. One leg splintering under the weight of his irritation.