Royal Agreements [Kylo Ren x Reader]

chapter eighteen

Your back slammed against the cool wall. The back of your head leaned back and you gazed at the florescent lights above. You sighed heavily at the relief of a cold surface against your hot, sweaty back.

"Again!"

You whimpered slightly. Exhaustion was taking its toll on you. You were absolutely exhausted. If given allowed, you would have dropped on the floor and fallen asleep.

"Again," he repeated coldly.

Your husband had proved himself to be a ruthless trainer. It was only your first day, and yet he had sent you straight for the physical, hand-to-hand combat part of your training. He had ordered you to hit the matted wall until you were exhausted. Thirty-five minutes later, and you had gone past your limit several times.

"Again-"

"I'm trying," you snapped.

"Then prove it," he growled.

You glared at him briefly before turning your anger on the wall. You threw a couple of punches with each hand, always making sure to keep one arm covering your face and neck.

"Tighten up your core," he said, pressing his hands to either side of your torso. "If they try to inflict pain there, it's better if you're muscles are tight. You can receive the blow without as much pain."

You nodded. You straightened your back and threw your first forward in a fit of rage.

"Good," he praised. "Let your anger consume you. Think of it, dwell on it, draw strength from it. Your anger, hate, and fear will give you all the power you need."

You heard his words and took them to heart. As you punched, you thought of the glares Juban had sent your way after you refused him. You thought of your father's cowardice, and how that ultimately lead do his and his wife's demise. The war. The blood. The loss. The injuries your people are still healing from.

Most of all, you pictured Marlo - sweet, kind, beautiful Marlo, with her pretty eyes and wrinkled cheeks and loving touch of a mother. The anger you had towards her untimely death was enough to pull a scream of rage out of you. You delivered one last swing to the wall. Upon impact, you felt the skin of your busting.

Kylo nodded in approval. You fell against the wall again, wiping a blood soaked hand across your sweaty forehead. He reached his hand out to the left. A roll of gauze shot into his palm.

"Sit," he urged, nodding towards the bench at the end of the room.

You did. He knelt in front of you and pulled your hands into his lap. He began to wipe the blood off of your fresh wounds.

"I am very proud of you," he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you?"

"Yes," he replied. He raised his eyebrows and sighed. "___. When you asked me to be your trainer, I had to choose which I would be. I want you to be strong, you want to be strong, and therefore, it would be ridiculous to cater to you. An enemy wouldn't. A real trainer wouldn't."

You frowned slightly. His fingers brushed across your scrapes and bruises. He started to wrap your hands.

"But I love you," he reminded you. "And I am sorry that I didn't stop you before you busted your hands up."

"It's not so bad," you said, stretching your fingers and curling them in. The motion made you wince slightly. "Kind of... makes me look tougher, doesn't it?"

He chuckled. You smiled in amusement and wonder at the deep sound of happiness rising out of his chest. He cupped the back of your head and touched his sweaty forehead to yours.

                            ...

As days of training went on, your strength improved. Kylo kept you a little bit later each day, and soon enough, you stopped thinking about the hours piled on top of hours as you were sent to take all of your frustrations on a wall.

When it came to physical combat, Kylo was reluctant to help you practice. He offered to find a training stormtrooper - someone who would be a bit of a challenge, but without the possession of a weapon, couldn't do any harm to you. You assured Kylo that you could take care of yourself and fight him.

He felt wrong when he held his fists up to you. He didn't enjoy the feeling of his knuckles slamming against your arms, back, and swinging towards your face. He winced with every gasp of pain that left your mouth.

He often found himself failing to raise his fists to block your hits. He didn't want to - he wanted you to feel satisfied in winning without having to get hurt. Every time he hit you, he faltered in a movement.

"Kylo," you groaned, "what is the point of all this training if you're going to go easy on me?"

He swallowed. "Who said I'm going easy on you?"

You raised your eyebrows. "I have seen you fight, husband."

"I can't hit you," he said. "I can't. I feel awful every time I come close to touching you-"

You sighed. "Kylo. I told you that I can handle it! Besides-"

You paused briefly to hook your arm with his and send a hard hit to his shoulder. With a quick kick of your leg, Kylo was down on his knees, you hovering over him.

"-I can take care of myself."

His lips twitched upward. "So I see."

You laughed lightly. "I didn't hurt you too bad, did I, love?" you asked, tilting your head and pouting through your laughter.

He put his hands on your hips. "Hm... no, love, you didn't. But I would hate to see the damage you can do on Juban and his loyal soldiers."

"They will be dead men," you promised, "and I look forward to the moment that I can hold a dagger to his old throat."

Kylo nodded. "I know you seek vengeance, my love, but please know that killing isn't easy, no matter who it is and for what reason you feel it necessary.

"It is still a human life that you are taking. You can feel it forever inside of you. I have felt that heaviness for a long time. You never get rid of it... just... numb. I don't want you to be afraid."

You leaned close and looked at him with serious, solemn eyes. His eyes drooped as he felt your hands on either side of his throat. You touched your lips to his briefly. Not a kiss, but a gentle touch.

"I'm not afraid," you breathed against his mouth, and the words were true.