The Dark Prince (Kylo Ren X Reader)

I Didn't Want To See You

"Raise your arm, please." The seamstress sighed, yanking you before you could respond, extending your arm out to the side. She held the lacy fabric over your wrist, her eyes squinted as she moved it around in different positions. She replaced the textile with a yellow cloth tape measurer, taking the length of your waist, arms, and legs. You sucked in as she wrapped it around your midriff, making a disapproving clicking sound with her tongue. She scribbled your measurements down on a small pad of paper with a pen that she kept tucked behind her ear, then set it back down on a small table, looking up at you. 

"Are you excited?" She mumbled, turning to pick through different fabrics hanging from hooks on the walls. 

"Mhm," You knew she wasn't really listening--just making small talk. And you didn't feel like getting into it with someone you knew wouldn't understand. 

"I've heard he's very handsome--that prince. Is it true?" Your mind flickered back to the memory of his face, just the thought of it making your heart rate pick up.

"Yes," You muttered, blushing, "He is."

"I think what you're doing is very brave," She said, looking back up at you, "You're making a big sacrifice for your people."

"Oh I--" You were shocked at her words, "Thank you." 

"Of course." She walked behind you as you stared at yourself in the mirror, running a hand over your hips. Your hair fell in loose curls over your shoulders, light makeup painted over your skin. Your freckles still poked through the pigment, dotting along your face like a constellation of stars. The seamstress came back in front of you, holding something in her hands. A dress. Or at least the beginnings of a dress--white and long, threaded with delicate beading. A wedding dress, you quickly realized. 

"It's nowhere near finished," She said, letting it flow down to the floor in her grip, "But what do you think of it so far?"

"It's--" You paused, taking a deep breath. You weren't sure what to say. It was a gorgeous dress, but it was a wedding dress. For you. The sight of it--no matter how beautiful--made you feel sick. "It's--" You suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over you, your face going pale. The seamstress furrowed her brow worriedly, reaching for you as you leaned forward slightly, your head spinning. 

"Are you okay, miss?" She rested her hand against your shoulder, searching for your gaze. But your eyes were focused on the gown in her other hand, seeming to mock you with its presence. Putting on that dress would mean submitting to the reality that your freedom was gone. Really gone. For good. You slammed your lids shut, trying to block out the sight of it. But the picture still burned behind your closed eyes, vomit bubbling up in your throat. You shook your head, suddenly turning away from the seamstress and bolting towards the exit, your hand slapped tightly over your mouth. You whipped open the door, spilling out into the hallway and booking it towards the front entrance of the palace. You needed fresh air, your head buzzing painfully as the building's walls seemed to start closing in around you, suffocating the air out of your lungs. 

The entryway finally appeared before you, the giant wooden doors towering high above your head. Two guards stood on either side, eyeing you with concern as you rushed toward them. 

"Let me out, please." You choked, fighting to swallow the vomit. 

"Miss, are you alright?--" One tried to reach for you, but you interrupted, your voice raising.

"Let me out, now." You repeated. They looked at each other, then back to you, finally nodding and reaching for the handles. They pulled the wooden slabs towards you, and as soon as you could fit in between the gap, you sped through the doorway, rushing out into the open air of the courtyard, gasping for breath. The bright sun beat down on your face, warming your skin comfortingly as you ran to the steps leading to the front of the palace, collapsing down on the smooth stone. You gripped the surface tightly, searching for some sort of stability as you head spun in circles.