Chapter Summary: The Empire comes under new leadership.

[Ceasefire with Zakuul. End of first year in five-year gap.]

A storm landed on Dromund Kaas the moment Darth Avriss' armoured boot touched the spotless grey floor of the hangar. And it seemed Empress Acina had foreseen the nature of her arrival; a Sith Lord and Moff stood side-by-side before an honour guard that waited at the foot of the boarding ramp. Officially, it was a gesture of courtesy for a member of the Dark Council – but Avriss held no delusions so superficial. This was a cautionary measure taken against a Councilor who'd responded to the summons of their new, self-declared Empress, and Avriss would have none of it.

"Dark Lord." The Sith bowed low, mirrored by his Moff counterpart. "Empress Acina sends her–"

His greeting ended in a surprised grunt when he and the Moff were flung apart with a sharp wave of her hand, stumbling from the sudden Force push. The armoured soldiers behind them parted hastily into two lines, standing at attention as Darth Avriss marched past them. Following close at her heels were a Dashade that towered over their tallest, and a Kaleesh Sith whose alien visage was masked in weathered bone – companions chosen for their imposing demeanour, while the rest stayed behind to defend the ship.

"My lord!"

The Sith called after her, as she stormed out of the hangar without a backward glance. It'd been a year since the war with Zakuul began, and longer still since she'd set foot on Dromund Kaas. But her feet ferried her effortlessly towards the spaceport's entrance, where a sleek black-and-red roofless airspeeder was parked, guarded by soldiers in polished armour who snapped to attention at her approach. One reached over to pull the passenger's door open for Avriss, while his partner opened the backseat's door with a touch of uncertainty, staring at the Darth's alien followers.

"Darth Avriss! My lord." The Sith hurried to the speeder as Avriss settled into the seat cushions, slamming the door shut. "We are to escort you to the Citadel, on Empress Acina's orders. Your followers will have to–"

He tried to move closer, but was stopped by a large, clawed hand on his chest. His distressed expression broke into a sneer at Khem Val, who eyed him impassively, then shoved him back without a word.

When Khem had climbed into the backseat with Xalek – rocking the speeder as he did so – Avriss crossed her arms and snapped, "Go."

The lieutenant revved the engines immediately, lifting the airspeeder beyond her escort's reach, leaving them to watch helplessly as they sped away.

The ride passed in silence. Avriss' glare remained fixed on Kaas' wilds streaming past the speeder in a blur, earthy green and brown giving way to durasteel grey and streaks of yellow-white light. It didn't surprise her how little damage the city had suffered – the Zakuulan invaders had been more invested in naval warfare than ground combat, opting to choke their lifelines instead of dealing swift deaths. It gave little comfort, but Avriss sought her own in a resolution that she would bring ruin upon the Citadel if Acina didn't have the right answers.

The reception for her arrival at the Citadel was similar to what she'd left behind at the spaceport – a squad of elite soldiers, now bolstered by a few Sith. One notable addition was the red garb of the Imperial Guard that led them. No doubt they had received word of Avriss' warpath, and aimed to slow her down.

"Dark Lord." The Guard bowed as Avriss alighted, wise enough to stand aside while she swept past him. He followed her closely, just a hair behind her as a mark of deference, but it did little to quell Avriss' irritation at his doggedness. "Empress Acina awaits your arrival in the Dark Council chambers. Before you meet, however, she requests that you submit to a security screening by our–"

Avriss's jaw clenched tight, and she spun on her heel, fists drawn back to her hips. She thrust them out, fingers flaring, sending the Imperial Guard and his squad flying backwards. The Guard landed on his feet with a slight stumble, while his subordinates fell flat on the floor.

"If she cannot face me herself, she will make a poor excuse for an Empress," Avriss spat, the title burning on her tongue like acid, as she turned back to enter the Citadel proper.

Khem Val and Xalek followed her quietly through the fortress, weapons still sheathed. More guards, soldiers and Sith alike, tried to intercept Avriss' furious march towards the lifts, but they were swept aside with a simple application of the Force. That they didn't present solid resistance was a good sign – obviously they hadn't been cleared to draw weapons on the Dark Councilor. It made her approach to the Council chambers an easy feat, though her streak ended when she set foot in the chambers proper.

A line of Imperial Guards stood waiting for her, pikes held ready in a uniform combat stance, helmet visors trained upon Avriss as they held her back at blade point. Avriss' lips twisted into a crooked smirk, lightning crackling up the length of her arms. Xalek's lightsaber hummed to life behind her, and Khem's vibrosword left its leather sheath with a muted hiss.

"Stand down. All of you!" Acina's voice cut through the chamber, a crack of the whip that merely heightened the tension among her guards.

After a fleeting hesitation, the line of pikes was withdrawn, blades raised towards the ceiling as the Guards held their weapons to their sides, standing at attention. Avriss broke through the red line, the thud of her boots ringing through the chamber as she stormed forward, with no sign of stopping as she climbed up the steps towards the throne.

Acina rose to her feet, eyes level with Avriss when she came close.

"Empress? Empress?" Avriss barked, grinding to a halt only when she stood nose-to-nose with Acina. "The Empire's throat is crushed by a boy king and his toy army, and now you make your power play?"

Acina regarded her calmly, a touch of ice behind the warm sunset shade of her eyes. When she spoke, her voice carried across the chamber. "Leave us."

"But, my lord–"

Acina glared past Avriss' shoulder, and the Guard Captain quailed immediately. While they filed out of the chamber, Acina cast a glance at Avriss.

"Khem, Xalek – out."

Their eyes never left each other as quiet footsteps left the chamber, allowing the doors to slide shut.

"I understand your anger."

"Don't patronise me."

Acina ignored her reply. "Your campaign against Zakuul was nothing short of impressive, Avriss. Even in such chaos, you rallied our forces, and made Zakuul bleed for every foothold they've gained in our territory. Our peace treaty frustrates you, I'm sure. But even you, for all your heroism in the war, know very well that the Empire will only earn an inglorious death if we continue as we have in the last year."

"So we've chosen to lie down and die a slower death, is that it?" Avriss hissed. Cut deep by truth, scorn bled from her chest, staining her with an ugly desire to rip Acina's practiced speech to shreds, if not the woman herself.

Acina watched her quietly, and Avriss hated this feeling of being read, of losing enough control that she knew raw emotion burned clear in her own red-hot glare.

"It is death, either way," Acina murmured. "But a slower death offers us a chance. It buys us time to regain our strength, and it is critical that we rebuild what we have so recklessly lost. We are weak now, but we need to present a strong front to–"

"And that 'front', conveniently, is you?"

"I stand ready to hold our Empire together. Do not scoff, Avriss. I will do what is necessary to see us through this crisis, even if it means bowing my head for the time being."

"And the other Councilors? Vowrawn? What do they think about your little power grab?"

"The rest remain out of reach," Acina replied, still ignoring her jabs. "If they do not respond soon, I will presume they are lost. And Vowrawn…he is as battered as the rest of us."

Avriss' lips curled in disdain at the attempt to lump them together. Crossing her arms, she returned Acina's scrutinising gaze with a scowl. "Will you rule without a Council?"

"No. I would prefer to have other opinions to balance my own judgement. But – you know as well as I that there was too much internal strife for the Council to be half as effective as it could've been. When I rebuild the Dark Council, I will not allow us to regress into petty infighting when we need to stand as one."

That gave Avriss pause. Acina echoed Darth Marr's vision for a united Empire, which he'd espoused and fought for, right up to his death. Did she mean it? Or was this a calculated move, pressing a thumb to Avriss' wound? It was no secret that Marr had taken Avriss under his wing since her ascension to the Council, and that they worked closely together to reforge the Empire. There were even rumours that Marr had chosen Avriss to succeed him if he met his end – which he did, and she had since held his Spheres together with the help of his loyal followers, directing them in coordinated assaults against Zakuul.

Did Acina wish to strike at her sentiment for Marr, thinking it a weak spot?

Damn it. Damn it all.

Marr was dead. He had been for an entire, blood-drenched year, and Avriss had only numbed her grief with violence and unadulterated rage.

Avriss grieved for him, void take her, and the galaxy crashed over her head at the slightest nudge from Acina.

Her gut twisted painfully, and Avriss drove herself forward, forcing Acina to step aside while she moved towards the throne, refusing to allow Acina to read her any further. She kept her eyes on the throne, imagining Marr's tall, bulky frame sitting on it, hands on the armrests as if he were aboard his own flagship. He belonged there, like a sun in the sky, like blood on Sith hands.

Then she pictured herself in his place, legs crossed, fingers steepled as if she were tracking a space battle through a viewport. She…would belong, even if she didn't feel so. She should hunger for it, to hold the might of an Empire in her hands, to be the object of fear and dedication of her trillion subjects. But all she could feel was a weight threatening to crush her very soul, and visceral revulsion that turned her stomach, rejecting the idea she carried in her mind's eye.

Swallowing thickly, Avriss reined her wayward emotions in. They would be of no use here, and she'd given Acina enough leverage for one day. "You have plans for the Council," she said flatly.

"I do. It is well past time for change, and I seek your help to implement it." Acina took a step forward when Avriss turned back to her. "Make no mistake, Avriss. I will proceed with or without you. But I would prefer to have your strength behind mine…and to offer you my support in return."

Acina sounded sincere, and it further cracked Avriss' initial resolve to draw blood. Her jaw clenched as she stared back at Acina, the galaxy coming to a standstill.

An eternity of silence passed between them. Then Avriss parted her lips.

Lana brushed past the butler droid impatiently, and only the force of habit made her yank the cloak from her shoulders, tossing it back at the droid without a second thought. She strode into the penthouse's living area, stopping abruptly behind the sofa where Andronikos lounged, watching the news on holo with his feet hiked up on a square ottoman. He looked back at her, though his curious gaze went unnoticed by Lana – whose eyes were fixed on the woman sitting alone on the staircase.

Vestra stared back at her, unblinking, slowly drawing a jam cookie from the packet she clutched upon her knee. Dressed simply in a sleeveless shirt and shorts, with her dark hair spilling past her shoulders, Vestra was such a picture of normalcy that it jarred Lana from her simmering temper. The only hint of tension was in the guarded edge to Vestra's eyes, which snatched back the words that had been shaken from her mind.

"What are you doing?" Disbelief coloured her tone as she moved closer to the stairs. "Why is Acina still on the throne?"

"She claimed it," Vestra drawled, her placid expression morphing into nonchalance, as she popped a cookie into her mouth. That Lana knew it was deliberate only strained her patience.

"Let me rephrase that – why is Acina on the throne, and not you?"

"She called dibs," Vestra replied, muffled by crumbs, and turned her gaze to the windows.

"Vestra."

Vestra ignored her, staring at the skyline of Dromund Kaas, munching slowly. Lana wanted to slap the packet out of her hands, and shake her by the shoulders.

"The throne belongs to you."

"My name isn't written on it."

Plenty of things could make Lana angry – and the list had grown infinitely longer since the Zakuulan invasion. But there was still nothing in this galaxy that could boil her blood quicker than Vestra.

"You were the one trying to hold the Council and the Empire together during the war. You, and Vowrawn. While Acina went completely dark, and came slithering back to the throne."

"How devious of her."

Something ugly twisted in Lana's gut. "Stop it, Ves! Have you given up?" The accusation flew from her mouth, sharp as a blade, and hit its mark. Vestra's eyes narrowed and flicked towards her, like a cat at a source of irritation. Good. "The Empress has bowed her head to Zakuul, so you've chosen to submit and die alongside her, is that it?"

Anger flashed in Vestra's glare, which cut towards her. "Do not presume to speak for me."

"Is it not the truth? The Empire has been brought to heel, forced to pay tributes that cripple us while a scheming witch snatches the throne herself. Yet here you are, sitting in your house, acting as if nothing has happened, as if memorial services aren't being held in the city for the millions who've died–?"

Vestra shot to her feet, acidic hate burning through the perfect, airtight lid she had shut upon herself in their bond. "How dare you? How dare you insinuate that I do not care about what's happening? You think I don't know how many people we've lost, the fleets and cities destroyed–"

"So take responsibility, Vestra–!"

"If you're so obsessed with the fucking throne," Vestra shouted, voice scraped raw. "Then take it for yourself!"

"Vestra." Lana watched as Vestra stormed up the stairs, disappearing from view without a glance backwards. "Ves!"

Lana's boot landed on the first step with an audible crunch – an innocuous little sound that ripped through her red-tinted consciousness, sure as a blaster bolt. Thrown off-guard, she looked down, raising her foot to find the broken pieces of a cookie that slipped from the packet Vestra had flung aside in fury. Setting a hand on the railing to steady herself, Lana lowered her boot back to the ground. Free of anger's momentum, the world fell back into place around her, and Lana grew aware of eyes on herself.

Talos stood in the corridor with Ashara, who held a relic scanner in one hand – no doubt the commotion had drawn them away from their research. Talos' posture was military-stiff, hands clasped below the belt; geniality that had been a constant in his eyes was now gone, replaced by cold regard. His lips were pressed together in a thin line.

Ashara's gaze was less unyielding, though still distant. She stared at Lana longer, before setting a hand on Talos' arm, urging him to turn around. He resisted for a second – Lana half-expected him to speak – but he relented, turning away to follow Ashara into the library.

Lana's hands curled into fists, squeezing tight, as she looked around at Andronikos – who held the attention with passive detachment, then turned back to the holo in silence.

It was difficult to take her next breath in, but the effort grounded her. The words she'd spoken forced themselves back into fresh memory, along with a dose of regret. Lana shook herself, reasserting logic over emotion, and climbed up the stairs in measured steps.

She followed Vestra's jagged, wounded aura to the office, taking a moment outside the door to compose herself, burying a temper that had done enough harm for the day. She tapped the door's control, dimly surprised that it hadn't been locked; she chalked it up to Vestra's distraction, noting how Vestra jerked to a sudden stop amid her pacing behind the long chrome desk. She turned her back to Lana, lowering the hands she'd clutched to her head when Lana walked in. She folded her arms, staring out of the window set into the wall behind her desk – a structural weakness the crew liked to tease her for, even though it was reinforced against blaster fire.

"I'm not here to fight."

Silence – thick and suffocating.

"But I do want answers." Lana paused, then forged on when Vestra showed no sign of responding. "You were the closest thing Darth Marr had to a protégé. Surely you noticed the amount of time he spent on you."

Vestra shifted on her feet, and Lana hesitated, feeling a dense shroud coil around her partner's poorly-hidden anger.

"He would've wanted you to step into the position he'd left."

"Perhaps I have different ideas."

"Like? Following a Sith who bows her head to our conqueror?"

"What would you have me do, Lana!" Vestra exploded, rounding on her. "Take Acina's place and grovel at that bastard's feet? Or do you want me to gather the last of the Empire's strength and dash it all against the Eternal Fleet in one last hopeless battle?"

"Vestra–"

"Or have you ever considered that perhaps, perhaps, I never wanted it in the first place? I never wanted to sit in that throne, I never asked for Marr's attention, and I sure as hell never asked to be on the Dark Council! Yet there I was, carrying an Empire's burden on my shoulders, clawing for its survival, losing another ounce of sanity when I read another casualty report, when another bastard crawls to me, asking for orders and more orders when the only thing I can give them is death! I am done with it, Lana! I am done!"

Her fist slammed knuckle-first onto the desk, as the last of her anger was expelled in the furious tirade. Lana stood firm, holding a glare that rapidly lost its fire as Vestra deflated in the silence that followed. Lana glimpsed a shine in her eyes as she turned her face away, stony expression crumbling with excruciating slowness. Vestra slid a foot backwards, putting space between them, and jerked her arm back when Lana tried to grasp it.

"What do you want, Lana?" Vestra asked – flat, hollow. "What do you want from me?"

Her dejection stung unexpectedly. Lana had been en route to Dromund Kaas when she'd received a report from her agents – which detailed Darth Avriss' dramatic arrival on the planet, and her private confrontation with Empress Acina behind the secure doors of the Council chambers. When she'd emerged, Darth Avriss made a quiet exit, while Empress Acina was left unscathed upon her throne.

Lana had been – and still was – disappointed at the outcome. After a year of desperate war with Zakuul, the only two persons she would entrust with power over the Empire were the two Councilors who remained standing and, more importantly, visible to their people. But with Vowrawn residing peacefully in Kaas City alongside Empress Acina, Lana had unconsciously shifted her expectations to Darth Avriss and her insatiable thirst for material power. And here she was, at Avriss' door, looking for something like everyone else.

Like every other bastard, she echoed Vestra's words, allowing the sting to remain in her chest.

Vestra's eyes were dead behind her hard exterior, and she turned away without a twitch in her face, feet gliding over the floor as she moved closer to the window.

Piecing together her next words with tact, she said, "I am well-aware of the sacrifices you've made, and I know it wears on you greatly. If you wish to lay that burden on someone else for a change…" Lana's voice trailed off, fighting past the uncertainty that had gripped her throat. "Then I am glad you are able to do so."

The movement was slow, nearly imperceptible; but Lana saw the rigid line of Vestra's shoulders sag, as her head fell forward to rest against tinted transparisteel.

"I won't lie – I did expect you to take Acina's place. But you have made your choice, and I will respect it. The Empire will move on, regardless." She winced as the words left her mouth, colder than she'd intended.

She took a moment, summoning every trouble of the galaxy that plagued her mind, and shed them like a layer of brittle ice. Refocusing on the woman before her, Lana closed the distance, and laid a hand on her back cautiously. She knew well that Vestra could be intensely averse to touch when agitated, and was proven right when Vestra twitched beneath her hand – but didn't move away.

"Besides," Lana ventured, changing tack, as she took yet another step closer. "I see you little enough as it is. I'd hate to think what it'd be like if you were Empress."

It was hard to read her – Vestra hadn't moved a single millimeter, her face hidden from view. Yet Lana could feel her relax by a fraction; the dense layer of tension about her, palpable through the Force, started to thin. Lana massaged her back gently, then slid her hand up, squeezing the bunched muscle at the base of her neck.

Vestra remained glued to the window a moment longer, then set the tips of her fingers against the wall, pushing herself back with a slow, heavy exhale through her lips.

"We've lost. No amount of posturing can hide that," she uttered, quiet as the grave. Drawing her hands up as if to hug herself, Vestra seemed to rethink the motion, and settled for clasping them behind her back. "Our people are beaten, our fleets crippled. I'm not even sure we still have our dignity left."

She glanced back at Lana, face placid. "But we have time now. Time to rebuild, to gather our strength." She paused, averting her eyes. "Maybe I'm just selfish, for wanting to rest even if it means submitting to Zakuul. But it's done. And we have a moment to breathe."

"I don't need a speech, Ves," Lana spoke softly. "I just need you. Here, with me."

Vestra gazed at her, wistful. Reaching up to her shoulder, she caught Lana's hand, her own touch gentle beneath Lana's firm grasp. "You've suffered as well. I don't want you to rush headlong into your own destruction."

Lana smiled, wry. "Then I suppose you'll have to hold me back."

The corner of Vestra's mouth curled into a faint smile, which disappeared when the holocom on her desk chirped.

"My lord, please pardon the interruption." Talos' voice fed through the speaker. "There is an incoming transmission from Darth Vowrawn."

A low groan emitted from Vestra's throat as her head dipped forward, meeting the cradle of her hands.

"Shall I tell him you're indisposed?"

She dragged both hands down her face, eyes shut. Her features were composed, and when she reopened her eyes, it was Darth Avriss who looked back at Lana.

"No, patch him through. And I'll need a robe."

"The butler is on the way."

"Good." She reached over, and tapped a button on the device to hold incoming comms.

The door slid open to admit the butler droid just a minute later, with one of Vestra's plain black robes draped neatly across its arms. Lana had started to reach for the robe when Vestra beat her to it, quickly pulling it on as a yellow signal light shone on the holocom – Vowrawn was waiting. Vestra tied her maroon sash with practiced ease, while Lana adjusted the fold of her robes over her chest, hiding the t-shirt beneath. When they were done, Vestra took Lana's hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

"We'll talk later."

Lana nodded. "I'll get my things. I left them in the speeder."

She moved towards the door as Vestra settled in the high-backed chair behind the desk. When she turned around, Avriss' haughty air had taken over, hiding every trace of turmoil that Vestra had expressed just minutes ago. Lana's chest couldn't help but ache at the sight; her ability to hide herself was both a blessing and a curse, one she often used to her own detriment.

Avriss flicked the holocom's control, and Vowrawn's holo-figure appeared a few inches above the desk. A crooked, coquettish smile unfurled across Avriss' face, and she leaned back in her seat casually.

"Vowrawn, most darling gentleman on Kaas."

Vowrawn laughed, mellow and smooth. "Avriss, precious rose of the Council. I heard Acina has banished you into 'mandatory R & R', hm?"

Avriss sighed airily, glancing at her nails. "To keep me from picking on her, I suspect."

Another laugh, and Avriss' smile softened into rare affection – which made Lana feel at ease. Avriss had always kept on good terms with Vowrawn, the pair bonding over their not-so-secret weakness for luxury, which they wielded as a shield to draw attention away from their more insidious political maneuvers. Though Lana knew that both Councilors had contingencies to deal with each other if necessary, she found a measure of comfort in knowing they would only fall back on such plans as a last resort. Especially in times like these, when a reliable comrade was worth more than an entire fleet.

Trusting Avriss to keep her own ground, and hoping that Vowrawn would lift her spirits instead of further weighing it down, Lana made her leave. There was, after all, the future of an Empire to salvage.

A/N: Lana: *writes a letter in-game about how she tends to forget the (human) cost of achieving the greater goal*

Me: It's free real angst-tate.

Played around with some details of the Empire's state during the 5 years to fit a non-Commander Sith Inquisitor. My playground now :3c

(For the record, the 'world state' I'm using for my SWTOR fics includes the protagonists of each class story, with the Jedi Knight being the Alliance Commander. I plan to introduce some of them in later chapters.)