Dinnertime. In one of the many dining rooms of the Imperial palace with a reception room attached, the new usual (more or less) applied but the normally relaxed atmosphere was tense. And the Empress' actions were directly to blame.
"For the life of me, Orion, with everything I have done so far, I cannot fathom why you are questioning me now."
Now, whether the Grand Marshal simply did not hear his wife, or he was too taken aback by her brazenness, was anyone's guess. But Lucilla, the gentle, patient Empress, gave him ample time to respond. Which he did eventually, albeit spluttered and incredulous.
"Little dove! You have brought one of the most recognized, loyal and insolent members of the Resistance on board as one of your closest advisors! Have you lost your mind?!"
"I'm right here, pal!" Came the unimpressed bark from across the dining table.
"Oh, I know exactly where you are!" Hux retaliated, temperamental to the last and riled to no end by his Empress' latest stroke of genius in "securing a better galaxy". Or getting up his nose for a reason he could not yet decipher, one of the two. "I can smell you!"
"Is that what that is? Damn, and here I was, thinkin' you always looked like there was a bantha turd under your nose!"
Lucilla's sapphire orbs swiped back and forth, back and forth; following the verbal pot-shots with her eyes, as to turn her head every time a serve was made would exhaust her. Naturally, the indignant blusters from one side and the smooth, cutting replies from the other stoked her amusement, but at the risk of being accused of favouritism, the little dove kept herself passive.
"If this isn't proof! Not an ounce of discipline!"
"Luce, what the fuck d'you see in this guy?! I mean, really?! His idea of a romantic night out is two seats at a public execution! What was your first dance, a funeral march?!"
"Take care in how you address the Empress, you uncultured swine!"
"Oh, but little dove is formal enough?"
"How I address my wife is no concern of yours!"
Back and forth. Back and forth.
"She was my cousin ever before she was your wife, champ!" Poor Orion snatched his glass of wine; a liquid of deep, luxurious crimson and took a savage mouthful. It was somewhere to put his hands and something to do to prevent him diving across the antiquated wood and seizing his wife's cousin by the throat.
"Honestly, as entertaining as this back and forth is, gentlemen, I must call a halt to it for now. You can have at each other later when I am fed enough to appreciate it." The reason soon became apparent when grey bowls of the finest Asasl stone met the table in front of each placement.
"Ah… Great. Thank you." Poe, to his credit made a point of thanking the service droid. Lucilla thanked hers with the usual appreciative grimace and gracious incline of her head while Orion, typically, made no such gesture.
"It's nice to have actual food, y'know?" The pilot/advisor (or so the trial period allowed) chimed, picking up the spoon closest without a second of hesitation on if it was the correct one or not. Lucilla's amusement got an unexpected extension upon spying her cousin digging in; whether he hadn't noticed or was simply being polite mattered not, it was endearing all the same. Though how Orion restrained himself from a nasty or degrading comment, she would never be sure. "It's usually ration bars or protein packs… Doesn't require cutlery."
"Poe?"
"It's uhh… It's not bad, actually; kinda bland. Pass the salt? I always assumed Leia got 'em in bulk. Save a few credits here, a few credits there…"
"No… Poe…"
"Might save us enough for a few tanks of fuel at the end of the year, know what I'm sayin'? Salt? Anywhere? No?"
"Poe, this doesn't require cutlery either. Or salt."
"Well, what else am I supposed to do with it? Pick it up and slurp it or-? Oh." If it had only been his cousin present, Poe might have laughed to see her dipping her dainty fingertips into the "soup" and massaging them clean; a dose of hygiene before the meal. It was the sneer from her vile husband across the table, the smirk that dripped condescension like the warm water off his hands that turned potential amusement into embarrassment and churned it in Poe's stomach until it soured.
"Right… Not used to that either..."
"You will be soon." Lucilla encouraged kindly, the nod setting him at ease almost right away; maybe he had made the right call by coming here. Still, he had made it clear: it was a trial period and he made no promises about staying.
Poe, in his attempt to fit in, followed suit; dunking his hands into the warm water and rubbing them hard together to clean them; maybe with more fervour than the others, resulting in flicking splashes onto the pristine wood of the table. However, unlike Lucilla and Orion (was that that asshole's name?), who merely used the water to cleanse their hands (it remained crystalline in their bowls), Poe's had turned murky and dark; a combination of dirt, grease and acceleration fluid.
"If he lasts, darling." The snide, obnoxious bile from the Grand Marshal pricked Poe's ears and flared his nostrils. "We may have to rethink it if we find him picking his nails with the priceless cutlery." Well, fuck you, now I'm staying. Poe thought, meeting the redhead's spiteful gaze from the short distance the table separated them. Nothing wrong with a little workplace rivalry, is there? Or in life in general? Especially with his… cousin in law? Eww, no scratch that. I don't want that son of a bitch associated with me in any greater terms than he has to be.
Yet, Poe felt the need to jump in when that thunderous whirlwind of aggression turned on his polar opposite, in more ways than one. Not that he'd be appreciated for it; that much, he was sure of. Nothing ventured, nothing gained; Poe gravitated to that mantra in his day-to-day and each time he did, it either yielded or it didn't.
"Hey, Luce? When do I get to meet Lily?" The distraction tactic worked a treat; as any ploy Poe put his mind to tended to do. Hux received a brief (if undeserved) reprieve when the Empress' raven head turned from him slowly; as if in warning that his indiscretion would not be forgotten and would be revisited later. "I'm dying to meet the princess after everything you told me-"
"I will not have my daughter in the presence of Resistance scum!" No prizes for guessing who voiced that particular objection.
"Buddy, what the hell is wrong with you?" Poe Dameron was well known for being cocky, coarse and sassy to boot but he always gave someone the benefit of the doubt before he decided they were no longer worth being polite to. He had tried for his cousin's sake, but he got the impression even she knew there was no salvaging this one. "I just took the heat off you and you go and put it right back on yourself. Like… Do you get how this works? How not to piss off your lady? 'Specially when she's got your balls in a vice?"
"I don't need marriage counselling from the likes of you!" Orion fumed, infuriated beyond belief that this varmint had the nerve to interfere. More to the point, that Lucilla allowed it! To make matters worse, he was treated to little more than a galling click of the tongue and a tilt of a dark shaggy head before the pilot chirped in reply:
"You should sit here. Might see it differently. Wanna swap?"
Therein lay the final straw for Orion Hux. On his feet in the blink of an eye, his chair flung out from behind him (without clattering to the floor, surprisingly) and a flaming strand dangling into his eyes with the sheer force of it. But Poe did not feel the wrath of the Grand Marshal's vexation. No, Orion had foolishly turned that towards his wife.
"Control him!"
Was it wrong for Poe to feel a bubble of excitement? To see how this would play out, to see the redhead absolutely destroyed by his own spouse? And it would prove Lucilla's claim, if she really had Hux and Ren where she wanted them and them powerless to do anything about it. The pilot (and while he now intended to stay as a mobile advisor, he would always be a pilot at heart) swiped a cautiously tickled glance between the fired up Hux and the more relaxed Lucilla. Yeah, she was Keir's daughter alright; completely unfazed, nay, defiant in how she looked back. And Poe was proud.
"Orion." The darling purr, while seemingly diplomatic, held blatant threat and resonated steel in her eyes. "Sit. Down." The Grand Marshal's chest started to heave subtly under the cladding of his uniform; upset and distressed at the injustice but did not move. If, for no other reason, than to refuse the Resistance scum the satisfaction of it. But Lucilla had another ace. In fact, Lucilla had all the aces. "Sit down now. Or you will be sleeping in your own chambers tonight." To Poe's overwhelming but subdued joy, Hux did just that. But not before throwing a look of pure, unadulterated revilement at the visitor.
Then, the actual soup was served.
Orion left in a huff before dessert was even finished; grumbling that he wished to say goodnight to his daughter before she became tainted and Lucilla had not seen him since. She spent some sorely needed time with Poe before they parted on the best of terms in years, indulged in a long hug (not unlike the ones they used to have), a brief kiss to the forehead then a promise to see each other in the morning.
When she did find her husband, however, it seemed her threat had been closer to the bone than she realized.
"Ah." Bedchamber door shut and locked, Lucilla was greeted by furious heat radiating from the bed. "There you are."
"Where else would I be?"The redhead chaffed, already undressed and ready for sleep but waiting for one crucial ingredient before he settled completely: his wife. "Or would you rather I left? Is that ruffian joining you here too?"
"Poe is my cousin, Orion." Lucilla exhaled her exhausted impatience as she parked herself on the vanity table stool; where Varden's skull watched her remove her jewellery, then her makeup. "You're being ridiculous, my love."
"Not an uncommon practice among royalty, I hear."
"Is that so?" The Empress chimed, unaffected by the jab and refusing him the satisfaction of turning around to counter it. Maybe he had hoped for more of a reaction, particularly with the nature of the accusation. "You certainly seem to know a lot about it, my darling. Perhaps we should summon Poe and see what he knows about it."
"This isn't fair, Lucilla!" The redhead seethed, abandoning the incest route over the dinning pings of hair pins meeting the vanity table's surface. "What in the Glorious Heat of all Seven Hells were you thinking?! Bringing one of the Resistance's highest-ranking commanders, a poster boy of opposition to the First Order and prized pet of Leia Organa, into the Imperial palace under an Imperial regime!"
"Sweetheart…" Lucilla sighed, nightdress (of long, white ostentatious lace) donned and peeling back the covers that came up to her husband's pale, freckle-speckled chest. "You're overreacting." Did Orion's resolve start to ebb when that tiny form tucked right in beside his? Didn't it always? "Poe has agreed to fly his X-Wing with a subtle First Order colour scheme to compliment the Resistance paintwork." Eyes squeezed shut in a bid to claw back some of the resolution that the slow pecks of his wife's lips to his jaw crumbled, it was the Grand Marshal's turn to sigh. She always knew exactly what would get him bending.
"He's going to target planets that are a bit more dubious of our cause, that might be warmer to the Resistance than the First Order." Of course, he accepted her much smaller self into his lap, nor did he fight her at that gentle but controlling hand cupping his face to guide him and meet his lips with hers. "Those planets are not going to reject a trademark X-Wing of the Resistance piloted by, as you called him, a poster boy of opposition to the First Order. They're certainly not going to reject him when he comes bearing gifts from the Empress that happen to resonate with problems their planet is experiencing currently, are they?" The grind of lace-clad hips down onto Orion's, combined with the realization of her ploy snapped something in the redhead.
Resolve in tatters but no longer a qualm, the little Empress was grabbed and tumbled with the most delightful squeal of joy while the Grand Marshal did all in his power to exercise some bare hint of restraint; for now, at least.
"You." He snarled, meeting the unafraid, lusty gaze that he pinned mercilessly to the bed. "Are the most devious, conniving and duplicitous BITCH I have ever crossed paths with in my life, and believe me, my darling, there were plenty of those in the Cadet ranks!" Orion did not put this sudden riling down to the abundance of wine he'd suckled just to get through dinner but the insistence in his loins that grated on him whenever she looked at him the way she did now; that whittling, feigned innocence and purity.
"And I love you for it. Maker, do I love you for it." He gave in, diving to resume the tempting kisses she'd peppered him with earlier, but with a more lung-draining urgency.
"I know, my darling…" Lucilla breathed in the meantime, during the very brief separation of lips and the immobilizing but exciting restriction of her husband's bigger form on top of hers. "And really, we would not be here if I wasn't." Somehow, Orion's sleep pants found the floor and the frantic fight with Lucilla's nightdress began; much to her sultry amusement when it didn't go his way the on the first try or two.
"Now, my love…" Nightdress abandoned with the sleep pants and physical unity re-established from the night before, Lucilla drew herself tight to her eternal partner to maximize the potential of a very special purpose.
"Where were we with that prince?"