The King's Wife |Kylo Ren x Reader|

XXVII-Anakin the Conqueror

"The message... is from my grandfather."

"I don't understand."

You are both on your feet now, the only moving beings in a world that has gone still. Charred and burnt, Kylo tosses the remainder of the parchment into the hearth, destroying what little evidence is left of its existence. He braces one hand against the wooden frame of the fireplace and brings the other to his mouth, pressing it there while his brow furrows in thought.

"Kylo," you try again, stumbling over the wrap of furs that keep you modest. Your fingers grasp the blanket tightly as you cross the room. The bliss that had existed just moments before has now been crushed by a heavy boot of confusion and disbelief. "Please tell me what's going on."

"My grandfather..." he can't seem to choke the words out.

Frustrated, you place a firm hand on his arm. "You're not making any sense. That's... that's impossible. Anakin the Conqueror is dead. He was killed a decade ago by your father and-" Kylo abruptly turns his head, eyes piercing into your very soul. They are softer than usual. A gaze only reserved for apologies or the rare tender moments between you. You shake your head, face falling. "That isn't... that's not possible."

"It is possible."

"No." You release his arm as if it had suddenly burned you. "No, I saw his tomb. I know the stories. The histories."

"You saw a sealed tomb." He slowly backs away from the fireplace and moves instead toward your bed. Kylo sinks down on the edge, dropping his gaze to the floor between his feet. "That is what they wanted everyone to see. You only know what we wanted you to know."

As if he would suddenly lash out, you approach him more cautiously this time. "You told me your father poisoned him."

A shadow crosses Kylo's face as he lifts his head. "That, he did. Insufficiently. In his haste, the coward only managed to paralyze my grandfather and he fled before ensuring he was dead."

"He'd be old." You don't know why you are trying to refute this--why you are arguing with a man who is speaking his truth. "At least ninety."

He gives you a look. "Do you truly believe Anakin the Conqueror wanted to die in Exegol, being coddled, hand-fed, and pitied by his people?'"

You shake your head, considering how important legacy is to Kylo's family. "No."

"After he told me the truth about my father and I killed him, he ordered me to send him away. To Mustafar. To the abandoned fortress where I was born. He wanted to die in peace. Secretly, so he wouldn't have to die with the shame." Kylo explains bitterly.

You wrap a hand around the pendant of your necklace, suddenly feeling its immense weight. "How has this remained a secret? Surely he isn't tending to himself if he's paralyzed."

"The fortress is filled with Cultists. Devout worshipers of the ancient faith and the Sith people. They have all been sworn to secrecy and they wouldn't dare speak a word about it to anyone."

"Any secrets can be bought for a price."

"They are holy men. Delusional men." Kylo snaps. "Not like the frauds we have here. Cultists who strongly believe the only people who should have the right to the throne are of Sith origin. My grandfather is the last pure-blooded Sith and their loyalties lie with him. Breaking their vows of secrecy would condemn them to eternal misery and shame."