Royal Imitation | Kylo Ren

Doom And Destiny

Her hand reaches out to me.

The cords of her soaring veins run from her extended fingertips all the way down her arm, and to her chest where her heart is pumping fast and awaiting the blow of her ever-perpetual, impending doom of a fall.

She's a pity of war. She was the sacrifice for the grand scheme. My hands are still caught in the air holding the empty shape of where I had curled my fingers around her shoulders and ultimately shoved her off the side of the balcony without a second thought.

Time seems to slow its gravitational motion, but there was a sudden rush to my brain as I wrap my hands around the railing and lean over to watch her on her way down. She looked completely frozen in time but the world was wavering around her wailing frame. Under a honey and blue sky, the gathering of rich brought vibrancy to the unknown funeral taking place. The colours of their fabrics were vibrant and unweathered by the wintry onslaughts in which Jorkhan had previously brought, but not even the returning suns could shine away the tint of death to the foundations of the Universe's conclusion.

My mind is a defensive difference to the overwhelming roar of surprise and fright as the crowds below watched with a horrific gaze, the way the Queen's body tumbled over the balcony and in a suspended expanse, slowly fell to their feet and celebration.

Thankfully, it seems that the suns were on my side of darkness as they moved from behind a cloud and made it a burning impossibility to be able to see that there was still my figure standing in her place... But what did I do to spare the spotlight of my sinister actions? Perhaps, the fires of the sky knew that what I had done, was to keep them burning.

Her crown whistles in the air, and her hair which I had previously brushed with a silver handle, becomes matted around the white veil, which perfectly matched her pure wedding dress that whipped and glided like waves in the free-fall wind.

There was no time for me to start contemplating my murderous choice, and why I just did what I did. There was no cadence to the thrill of the fear in the rich's cries for me to regret what had already been done. I did it to selfishly save them, I did it to save myself. It wasn't fair that someone had to be the sacrificed, but the original Princess was the only one who had died for nothing... This slum girl had more bravery than I could ever possess, and I had been through too much to just perish for the doings of my enemies.

Realisation had dawned upon the young, falling girl. She could feel nothing beneath the bones of her prominent spine. Even the air was nowhere. Chest tightening, breath speeding, she managed to force her eyes shut, bracing for impact – But the darkness seemed to scare her more, so she opened them back up to me again. She was powerless versus the world's gravity. There was nothing which could defeat an extreme fall.

The gushing air races throughout her whole body, and I can see the ground getting closer and closer by the second. There's a petrified look upon her face in which tells me that she's starting to find it harder to breathe, almost to the point where her cheeks are turning a bright blue. Her hand is still reaching for the high-up balcony in which I had pushed her from, desperately trying to grasp onto any ignorant chance of survival... But soon enough, her back cracks on the bed of grass below and her head falls back too, sending the golden crown to glide down the carpet of white, all the way to Kylo Ren's polished boots.

She was staring right back at me, her eyes as dead as her soul, blankly meeting mine. Blood slowly trickled out of her nose, and onto the paling of her lips. The white dress had turned a shade of horrific crimson and the thorns from the rose bushes which aligned the castle's edge, hand punctured into her innocent skin.

The slum girl broke like porcelain on the ground, her skin smashing and colliding as her bones shattered into pieces of austerity. A chill runs right through me, but my deep-rooted hatred for all those that had made me this way, warms my blood right up. Have I truely turned cold and calculating, beyond ever turning back into the dim and weakened girl, in which the Troopers had plucked from the orchards? Yes.