Back home, the summons would have been expected; here, it did manage to surprise him. Kylo had been angry and frustrated to be seen as something normal and unworthy of attention by the standards of the Araneans. He'd been robbed of dignity and respect owed to him since he woke up in that forest, a new conscript of COST whether he liked it or not, and it was unlikely he'd ever be happy with that. By now he'd had time to adjust, more or less, and had accepted the bonus of being able to walk through these places relatively unmolested.
Of course, by the time he'd gotten used to that, he walked out of the arena a champion after giving them the kind of bloody fight they wanted. Jeyne had patched him up to the best of her abilities, and though he'd come out with all of his limbs intact, he'd taken a beating. He was certain most, if not all, of his ribs were broken, which made the walk to the Queen's chambers excruciating. Kylo didn't think he was still bleeding anywhere under his clothes, but he could still taste copper on his split lip, and smell it if he didn't change the bandages often enough.
After accepting the invitation, he wondered she'd just eat him on sight, perceiving him as beaten down and frail. It was how he'd sometimes appeared in front of Snoke, his old master. Bloodied, beaten, victorious or not, and Snoke would punish him more. He decided it didn't matter how he appeared to her, so long as he was dressed well and spoke properly. He'd trained and gone through his forms with injuries before, which had only served to make him stronger. Pain was a better fuel while he was actually in combat, but he'd make it work here. Every breath ached, every step jarred whatever else was broken inside of him, the Ymir weighed against his senses in the Force, yet his posture was straight and his expression stony.
Someone else might be telling themselves they were here to represent COST, and act accordingly. Kylo had other plans.
"Your grace." Kylo bowed, swallowing a grimace at the pressure that put on his ribs. His right hand twitched, wanting to grip the hilt of his rapier, but he kept his arms at his side, waiting for her address.
no subject
Of course, by the time he'd gotten used to that, he walked out of the arena a champion after giving them the kind of bloody fight they wanted. Jeyne had patched him up to the best of her abilities, and though he'd come out with all of his limbs intact, he'd taken a beating. He was certain most, if not all, of his ribs were broken, which made the walk to the Queen's chambers excruciating. Kylo didn't think he was still bleeding anywhere under his clothes, but he could still taste copper on his split lip, and smell it if he didn't change the bandages often enough.
After accepting the invitation, he wondered she'd just eat him on sight, perceiving him as beaten down and frail. It was how he'd sometimes appeared in front of Snoke, his old master. Bloodied, beaten, victorious or not, and Snoke would punish him more. He decided it didn't matter how he appeared to her, so long as he was dressed well and spoke properly. He'd trained and gone through his forms with injuries before, which had only served to make him stronger. Pain was a better fuel while he was actually in combat, but he'd make it work here. Every breath ached, every step jarred whatever else was broken inside of him, the Ymir weighed against his senses in the Force, yet his posture was straight and his expression stony.
Someone else might be telling themselves they were here to represent COST, and act accordingly. Kylo had other plans.
"Your grace." Kylo bowed, swallowing a grimace at the pressure that put on his ribs. His right hand twitched, wanting to grip the hilt of his rapier, but he kept his arms at his side, waiting for her address.