It seems that royal chambers are not like any of those aboard a Star Destroyer, a warship or even a superweapon but that suited the Little Empress (as she was being affectionately dubbed in the media) just fine.

There was something more… romantic and homely about a stone fireplace, velvets and silks than the cold fusion of durasteel and leather; she'd lived within it for long enough for her husband, now it was his turn. Not that he protested. His biggest change was remembering to leave the seat down under the threat of execution.

"You know…" Blissfully exhausted and still negotiating the last throes of rapture, the new Empress (of a week or so) wiggled closer in the soiled four-poster bed of epic dimensions; a bed well christened since the night of her arrival. "I've been combing through some of the old edicts of royal etiquette from the Imperial archives downstairs…"

"Mmm…?" Came the attentive purr of a certain redhead from the semi-darkness, the Grand Marshal readying for a second round with the adored queen of the known universe.

"And technically… You're not supposed to be in here."

That stopped him in his tracks alright; and the rousing presses to her neck, her face and wherever else he could reach before he pulled back, disappointed and bewildered. Poor Orion, that uncomprehending grimace begged answers; barely lit by what was left in the dying embers of the fire. So, Lucilla went on with nonchalance.

"No doubt when the advisors begin arriving in the next few day cycles, they will start insisting that you should be sleeping in your own chambers." Had he twigged it that she was playing with him yet? Judging by the scandalized noise he made as he struggled to sit up in the tangle of sheets, she assumed not.

"And what is the purpose of that?!" Orion spat, incensed, while pretending he hadn't just gotten his pasty leg caught in a sheet and stumbled because of it; a spectacle that forced the Empress to suppress a laugh. "We are a married couple, Lucilla, surely-!"

"From what I can gather, my love, it has two purposes." Did the redhead slow his frenzied dressing when his exquisite lover kneeled up in the bed; naked and exposed? Yes. Did he stop altogether, fascinated and entranced, when she started to casually play with the sticky dribbles of cum smattered inside those milky thighs? Absolutely.

"The first is in the event of an assassination attempt. Should something happen to me in my chambers, the onus passes to you to ensure Lily is appropriately tutored to take over from me. Perhaps act in her stead until she's old enough. Unless, of course, you tailored the assassination, in which case you would be executed for high treason." The same penalty for leaving the seat up as high treason? She must have been really tired of putting the seat down.

"And the second?" The Grand Marshal pried, slowly removing the basic items he had half thrown on in his furious haste; only to advance on the bed again like a Quohr on prey.

"The second…" Lucilla replied distractedly, overly immersed in sucking her finger clean before dipping it once more for another scrape between her legs. "You won't like the second, darling…"

"No…?" Successful in luring her husband back to bed (the intention all along in the intentionally sexual display), the Empress allowed her hand to be pried from her own legs, only to be replaced with his instead. "Try me."

"Well…" Who could resist that alluring innocence? Or the way those plump lips massaged the pad of his finger to take what she was given? "The second dictates privacy for the Emperor; or, in our case, Empress… With certain… selected companions… that does not include the royal consort." Yes, Lucilla's assessment of her husband being unimpressed with the second purpose was correct; suggested by the manner she was relinquished, said royal consort (and he had already declared that he did not appreciate that title) tense with aggravation.

"I… see." In all the problems Orion and Lucilla had had, infidelity had never really been one of them. And it wasn't about to become a problem either.

"But…" Something about that tantalizingly honeyed tone raised Orion's hands again, rose them to the creamy curves, gifted by childbearing. "Under what criteria is a royal consort chosen?" Lips back to where they had been before, it appeared the redhead was ready to listen. "It just so happens, my darling, that I chose mine out of love, loyalty and being possibly the best lay in the galaxy; and in that, sweetheart-" Lucilla's voice cracked with the same laughter that Orion did, feeling the vibration of it on her throat. "I see no reason why I should require any other companions than the one I already have."

"Very well, little dove. You win. As always."

"I do recall reading, however, that there are certain instances when a royal consort may visit his Empress. Possibly stay with her until morning."

"Oh?"

"Mmm… It seems a royal consort's main duty is to maintain the royal bloodline through conception. Breeding royal heirs in a bid to secure the claim and prevent usurpation. So, no one is of any doubt on what is ours." With that, Lucilla's legs were swept from under her and taking the hint, the royal consort hovered above her. And speaking of legs… Orion wasted no time in getting back between his wife's.

"And what am I to take from that, Your Grace…?" He asked, suffocating the mutual groan of unity in favour of the question; the answer was obvious, the inquiry little more than a show of submission, despite how he pinned her to the bed.

"What you're to take, Orion, is that when I ascend to my throne during my coronation next week, I want there to already be another little prince or princess in my belly." With the small of her back braced against several pillows to angle her hips a certain way, it permitted the deep, arching thrusts; the ones that would not waste a single drop of cum… Or any more than had already been wasted.

"Then I do as my Empress commands." Empress or not, Lucilla's pants were heavy, the siphoning kiss demanding and the driving hand at her husband's hip forced a heavier plunge betwixt open, bent knees; a position ideal for breeding.

"Harder, Orion…" Came the wrought plea, sunken to his chest as she clung to his neck for some bare support. "Please, my love… I need it…!"

"Some things never change." The Grand Marshal tutted, teasing, as a purposely savage jolt of his pelvis rippled her chest and her stomach; all the while tearing a delectated sob from between barely separated lips. "Queen of the Known Galaxy, and she still begs for it. For the second time tonight."

"Do your duty..." That steely snarl, laced with arousal, was heard over the backdrop of skin slapping off skin (not a very regal or dignified sound?) and the mutual keens of enjoyment. "Leave it deep, as deep as you can leave it; I want to feel my child being conceived…!"

"The royal bitch is ripe…" Knowing her affinity for filthy rhetoric, Orion hissed it at her, his eyes burning with lusty taunt; all the while, his hips rolling to the very depths of his wife's pulsing cunt to her mewling approval. "Whining to be bred. To be pumped so full of cum, there's no way she won't be."

"Give me all you have left...! Give me a prince or a princess, Orion, I don't care which…!"

"You're on your back with your legs open for either, Your Grace. An Empress howling like a common whore."

Another hot, adoring exchange of saliva took the (temporary) place of filthy utterances while Orion kept his word and pounded his royal spouse further into the mattress; seeing to it that she would have what she craved. But she reminded him anyway.

"Cum in me, sweetheart…" Lucilla whinged, her loins aching in the most delicious way and so in tune with her husband to know that they would both finish soon; that step closer to the prince or princess she wanted to accompany her on her landmark journey up those steps. All going well, no one would know of them until later. "I need you to, I need it… Please…"

"Almost there, little dove…" The redhead assured, his demeanour overhauled and his motion along with it. Still deep and purposeful but slow and reverent to admire the vision of his Empress, nearly spent, sweating and out of breath; clinging to him in desperation. "Then you can rest."

"Thinking on it… We have a princess… I might like a prince…" Orion hummed his agreement, whatever she wanted to hear in her borderline delirium, from against her neck; keeping himself as tight to her as he physically could. "Yes… A prince… Give me a prince…"

"I'll do my utmost."

"A little boy, who looks exactly like his father. My little prince."

"I promise, my angel. A little boy, who looks exactly like his father."

Once an urchin, always an urchin. And if that urchin still knows the Undercity like the back of her hand after such a tremendous shift in her circumstances, all the better.

Perhaps that knowledge didn't come from her earlier days; after all, it was getting lost in the labyrinth of the most dangerous part of the city that got her abducted as a child in the first place. But her brief liberation after Tatooine and reunion with her father, her first as a free free woman, meant that the little dove had time to herself, to explore the Undercity she had been born in. Naturally, her attire had to fit; a plain black cloak to hide her face and restrict the image of any sort of wealth, lest she become a target. But who's going to target just another Under dweller? It served her well now; being able to slip freely throughout the alleyways and the narrow streets though she made a mental note to have them cleaned up next.

Exploring the Undercity on a whim is one thing, it is another to have a specific destination in mind; which the hidden Empress did that day.

It took a while to find in this vast place, despite her last visit being guided by her father, and with so many of them clamoured together, it was no wonder one would skim past it and miss it. But attentive and focused it, the cloaked Empress found it.

"I'm sorry I haven't been back in so long…" The weathered brass plaque on a locked drawer among thousands of others set into a wall could not talk back but Lucilla had expected a one-sided conversation. "So much has happened, mama, you wouldn't believe it… And I know you wouldn't be happy about most of it."

Six years old is a dreadful age for any child to lose their parent, be it mother or father, and Lucilla would do everything to ensure Lilia never experienced it either. But… if Lucilla hadn't… Where would she be now?

"It's still strange to say, mama, but… remember the palace? In the Federal District? We used to walk by it? I live there now. With my husband and my daughter." How could she not crack a watery smile, telling her mother about the granddaughter she would never meet? "Papa always said I was a princess but… Lily is the princess. You would be so proud of her; she watches every move I make and listens to every word I say… She'll make a wonderful Empress someday; I know she will…"

Lucilla, so consumed by her "company", the shuffle of movement was almost lost; the footsteps suddenly cut short, the scuffle of a boot on the permacrete.

"Orion dotes on her, my husband. I'm not sure how you would like him, mama, he and papa don't always get on; they're not speaking at the moment…"

"I knew I'd find you here eventually." Eyes lifting from her family's drawer to the one at immediate eye-level, the assessment process began as the booted footsteps resumed in a saunter in her direction. "Didn't think you'd be allowed leave the palace. It's dangerous down here. For an Empress." Licking her lips to re-wet them after the fright, Lucilla's dark head turned and the soft sigh that followed was one of near dismay.

"Poe."

"It's gotta be weird…" The pilot's confident strut meant he was upon her in no time but, unflinching, Lucilla did not move; even when he drew even with her, shoulder to shoulder. "Looking at a grave marker with your name on it. Knowing you're not in there." True, the little dove's name had been added to the ash drawer at some point in a bid to give her father closure but, really, how much could it have done? Like Poe said, knowing she wasn't even in there?

"Where's your daughter?" Conversational, but with undertones of accusation, I knew I'd find you here eventually should have told her he was looking for her, waiting for her. Why? Those undertones should have been a clue. "Thought you'd've brought her to meet her grandma." And when that dark head, gelled to perfection, tilted; therein lay the hostility. "You hide behind her for everything else, don't you? Tatooine? Last week when you got dropped off here?"

"Lilia is at home, resting with her father." Lucilla responded calmly, refusing to bow to his expectations and jump to her own defence. "I felt it would be safer. For now." Not that Orion knew where she was; the explosion over the palace would have been seen for miles if he found out.

"Oh sure!" Mockery plain in the brightness of his tone, Poe had the gall to lean against a random batch of ash drawers that may have been sacred to other families. "Yeah, I hear that. Leave her with the warmongering mass murderer who didn't want her. Sounds good, great plan."

"I'm going to excuse your ignorance, Poe." Lucilla, with her recent, flawlessly fine-tuned diplomacy, replied. "For you know not of what you speak."

"You don't have to pull that with me,Your Highness." He might have intended to scathe, leaning off the wall of ash drawers and leaning into Lucilla's immediate vicinity instead. Again, she refused to buckle; surveying him with mild interest and waiting for him to give her something to respond to rather than just senseless noise. He would eventually. "I know what you are, what you came from, so don't you-!"

"Like you, Poe?" She chimed, unaffected; those magnificent sapphires burning into darker counterparts that narrowed aggressively. "Running spice from Kijimi? Ruining lives to fund your own pocket? Then you have the nerve to masquerade yourself as a hero of the Resistance? Your hypocrisy and your delusion are in equal measures of astounding. Guilty conscience, cousin?" Not that he would admit it, let alone to her.

"Least I didn't kill anyone!" Poe snarled back, harking back to a wrong assessment made in a holochamber what seemed like a lifetime ago. And that lead Lucilla in for the kill.

"Oh? And who am I supposed to have killed? Enlighten me, for as far as I'm aware, I have no blood on my hands. Spiceheads or otherwise."

"You killed the Admiral!" Allegations, allegations, unfounded allegations. There was that reliable, trademark hot-headedness; the same fly-off-the-handle impulsion that had gotten more than half his squadron killed on Tatooine. Shoot first, ask questions later; even if you shoot the wrong person.

"Oh, Poe." I have you now. There were two other males that that sweet simper would have driven to absolute distraction, but this male was not one of them; at least, she hoped not. "Darling, Poe Poe, no. No, I didn't kill the Admiral. Believe me, I would have relished the opportunity, but it was carried out for me by other… infatuated parties." Perturbed and confused, it was Poe's turn to stay rooted while the Empress took up his casual step; the realization that followed chilled the pilot to his very core.

"Kylo Ren..." She had him on a leash too?

"The new Supreme Leader himself."

"But… Snoke…"

"Snoke is gone. Another dispatch of Kylo Ren's on my behalf. I'm surprised your beloved General Organa didn't impart that to you. Or is dear Leia only telling you what she wants you to know?"

But... That made no sense and Poe didn't bother to hide how the apparent loose ends tormented him. Kylo Ren, killing off allies, to appease Lucilla? Maybe Keir was right about something after all.

"That's a nice lil love triangle you got goin' on there, Luce." Again, Poe felt it prudent to run his mouth without the appropriate information or even verifying if the information he had was correct. A bad habit. "Does the General know?"

"I assume you're referring to my husband, the Grand Marshal?" Poe flinched. So, Ren and Lucilla were not the only ones moving up in the universe and to the detriment of said universe. "Despite what you may have been told, there is no such love triangle."

"But Keir said-"

Poe and Lucilla fell into charged silence, pausing their volatile back and forth; just long enough to let a couple pass, who seemed to be looking for a similar drawer. Thankfully, theirs appeared to be located in another block and the cousins were left alone once more.

"My father is wrong about plenty, Poe!" Lucilla shot back, once the couple turned the corner and their forceful exchange re-enflamed. "His impulsiveness matches your own and it has gotten people killed! Both of you have led to the demise of the Resistance with your actions on Coruscant and Tatooine!"

"You wanna talk about blood on hands, Luce?!" Like a dog with a bone, Poe locked on to something else; something else that might help him in this verbal skirmish. Speaking of Tatooine... "You set up that attack! You could've got innocent people killed on the ground and I lost over half a squadron of dedicated pilots that day! People fighting for a cause!"

"We're back to your impulsiveness." The dark-haired darling retaliated icily, ready to dole out some truth as she took a few challenging steps forward, to get right into her cousin's face. "We were on the ground for two weeks on Tatooine before you arrived. We were doing exactly what we said we were doing: distributing water, food, medical aid. We provided sleeping quarters and education while the buildings were being fixed…" Poe felt that familiar lurch in his stomach, the one that dropped it all the way to the permacrete; the fall of his face with it flinted passion in the Empress, despite him playing into her hands exactly as she wanted him to. "Had you or any of your cohorts even considered assessing the situation before you flew in, all guns blazing, you might still have your squadron! And your precious Resistance!"

"That civilian transmission…" Poe just about found the words in his clamouring thoughts, his tongue barely cooperating through the dawning disgust. You cold, calculating, bitch… "That was you. You wanted us there."

"It wasn't me." The denial was not to shift blame or reject involvement, but the truth. "My loyal Captain Mitaka lent his voice and services on that particular endeavour; I told him if he ever fancied a career change, he should get into holofilms." Lucilla broke the contact and assumed a thoughtful amble, preparing to deliver more truth; even if Poe wouldn't believe it, even if he'd rather die than accept it.

"I was sorry about your squadron. I still am. I wanted to limit the loss of life that day on both sides, right down to the Stormtroopers; I truly did. But I needed the Resistance out of the way, by whatever means necessary if I was going to do what I needed to do."

The humourless bark of demeaning laughter that greeted the confession was more or less what Lucilla had expected but it was cutting all the same.

"Y'know what, Luce?!" Poe taunted with the nasty humour still running rife in his tone, jabbing a vicious finger towards her but ever the regal one, Lucilla did not recoil. "You're so full of BANTHA SHIT!"

"I understand you-"

"No, no! No, no!" The pilot jumped in with savagery, the pads of his thumbs meeting those of his forefingers, coiled in frustration and bouncing before her face; his patience fraying to absolutely nothing when she had the brass to try and justify it. To try and tell him she was sorry about his friends when she had been the one to set the trap. To deface them in front of the whole galaxy like they were nothing more than war criminals. "You KNOW nothing! You UNDERSTAND nothing! You're a fucking PAWN, Luce! You UNDERSTAND that?! You're a PUPPET!"

"Puppet…?" Lucilla repeated, the incredulity mild and restrained (or, dare Poe think it, amused?) as those incredible eyes took in her cousin's wrathful pant and the flushed hue of his olive skin; stress, it's a killer. "Oh Poe, your mind really has been closed, hasn't it?" The little dove did not give him ample time to respond; despite how his jaw dropped but he picked it back up again with the intention of responding argumentatively. "I don't expect you to understand, Cousin, you have neither a child nor my experience, but allow me to try and enlighten you anyway."

"I have been raped. Beaten. Degraded. Dragged across sand and permacrete until I lost consciousness." Poe, caught off guard, felt his jaw reset; rigid in his skull at the close-to-the-bone confession. And Lucilla? It was probably the rawest, most genuine emotion he'd seen of her yet; and that, in this whole shitshow that Poe found himself in, was the most unnerving thing of all. Reshuffling his weight, it seemed the only thing to be done with the suddenly useless lump of meat he called his body. He had known something had happened to her, Keir (and to a degree, Finn) had told him as such but it seemed, to protect him, the grizzlier details had been kept from him. "If you were me, wouldn't you do everything you could, take every opportunity available, to prevent it from happening to someone else? Possibly your own daughter?"

"Snoke's death was a Renaissance within the First Order." Lucilla went on, when Poe had no response; imploringly so, all but begging him to understand and think about what she was telling him. "Ren assumed the mantle of Supreme Leader. He made Orion Grand Marshal which Snoke had refused him; it automatically made him a powerful ally in my husband. He came to me on bended knee and called me Empress. He put resources at my disposal to win over the galaxy and I used them. But…" She'd never voiced this aloud to anyone; no one to voice it to. Sure, she could tell Lily but what good would that do? That, and anywhere else was bound to be crawling with monitoring equipment. Not that Ren and Orion didn't know it all already.

"I was genuine in my efforts, Poe. I had been through too much, too young, to simply turn my back on it just because my own situation had improved. The compound here on Coruscant, not far from here actually… There were Twi'lek girls. When I was auctioned on Tatooine, there were Twi'lek girls-"

"So, you went for Ryloth first…" Poe finished quietly and emotionlessly, his eyes glassed over with tragic epiphany. "And you made sure the whole galaxy was watching."

"Tatooine was another place ravaged by slavery and organized crime. I turned my sights there and did what my resources would allow." Poe, despite himself, nodded along, engaged and engrossed. It made sense. All of it. A tad extreme, maybe, but… now that it was explained to him, was it any better or worse than anything the Resistance would have done, given the chance or the supplies? Was it any different to a deep-cover mission?

"Like I said, we were there for two weeks ever before the Resistance knew. If I wanted to make a show of it for propaganda, surely it would have suited me better to happen to be there when the airstrike occurred? Whatever about all the innocent residents of the camp, would I have put myself and my daughter in the line of fire? Those shield generators were brand new, state of the art… I took every precaution to ensure no one at that camp was hurt."

"The galaxy and her people started to follow me, not the First Order." More truth that Poe was beginning to see; much to the uncomfortable writhe in his stomach. If his cousin, in her viper-like fickleness, was the good guy then… Maybe the Resistance was doomed anyway. "The First Order was just… the muscle, the money. I used it, despite where it came from or how it was gotten. Which is why, Poe…" Automatically, the pilot straightened when the blue-eyed beauty advanced a step or two, just to make sure he was still listening. He was listening alright; impressed and terrified.

"I am no puppet. Of the First Order or anyone else. I have advanced myself through my own planning and used the Order appropriately to do it. They know that if they stick a single toe out of line that displeases me, I will renounce them and the whole galaxy will turn on them like hungry dogs and they lose every ounce of influence that they have. Orion knows it. Ren knows it. Which is why I will continue to do what I have been doing, but now, I am in the ultimate position of power to do it from."

"So… What? Your only loyalty is to yourself? Where does that get you?"

"On the contrary, dear cousin, my loyalty is to the galaxy. To the downtrodden and the oppressed. I can have everyone's best interests at heart and want to do the right thing but still be a scheming bitch to do it." Amen to that, Poe thought. You said it before I could.

Checking the chronometer on her com device, Lucilla deduced that she should have been well on her way back to the palace by now but… Delays are delays.

"It's like this, Poe." The Empress began tapering off the conversation, readying to depart to make further changes to the new family home; apparently there is plenty involved in becoming royalty. "There are people who need help, people with no voices; suffocated by slavers, cartels and corruption. The Republic overlooked them. The Resistance overlooked them. I am not going to. I have seen and experienced far too much to let it continue." Trust Lucilla to inject that trademark steel into her spine to meet the pilot's bewildered gaze and lock it down to drive home the point with ferocity. "So… You can either get in my way or you can stand at my side."

"Luce, I can't…"

"You were wasted in the Resistance as a Commander!" That fire, it reminded him of Leia; wherever she was now. The grit in her teeth, the spark in her eyes, the flare in her nostrils… It whittled Poe. The more he heard, the more there was something to it. Something that just didn't seem possible each time he waited at Siva Bey's ash drawer for her daughter to turn up. But she wasn't finished. She went on with fervour, and borderline vexation. "Think about what you could have done if you weren't tethered! Think of the good you could have done, what you can still do! If I put you back in an X-Wing, or a Tie Fighter; Hell, I'll give you a Star Destroyer! I'm giving you the opportunity to do better, to do more! To clear your conscience, once and for all!"

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" He asked helplessly after a few seconds of internal frantic debate that sounded a lot like silence, of trying to pick it all apart and believe it; which he did want to. Desperately. And to think, only a few moments ago, he'd been waiting for a squadron of Stormtroopers to swoop in out of nowhere and either kill him or arrest him. Now… These mind-blowing revelations had completely turned his expectations on his head. He certainly hadn't expected an invitation either. "How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you're not manipulating me like you do to them?"

"You don't." She replied, coming down from her near-feral onslaught but the passion still resonated. "And I can see you're conflicted. But something I said is stoking you right now and the Poe that scarpered off to join the Resistance is tempted to jump onto another campaign that might just make the galaxy a better place. Even if it means working alongside people he hated, people he fought, people who tortured him. And I know they did. I was there for all of it. But remember what I said…"

Face to face now, Poe was not much taller than his younger cousin, the little girl he had lifted (or tried to) to show her the cockpit of his mother's A-Wing and shared in her excitement. How long had it been since he'd seen her up this close? Two years? More? When she was still fresh from violation and abuse? Whatever it was, it had changed her. Strengthened her. And it showed in her face now: the determination ironed into every pretty feature. Poe's reservations were dwindling, and his righteousness fuelled, no wonder she was able to talk her way around the First Order. But there was still one more assurance he needed, and she delivered it flawlessly, deliberately and brazenly; reading him like a datapad.

"The First Order, for all its bravado, is not in charge. I am. No one will interfere with you."