Silence.
Pure. Seething. Crackling. Violent. Imminent.
So much so, it set the teeth of everyone present on edge.
Lucilla had, so far, said and done nothing but stare. Stare at the imaginary hole in the sky that had ripped her husband from her. Should she cry? Scream? Break something? Punch someone she so utterly detested (where was General Pryde when she could actually stomach him?) until she felt… better? In her churning, fermenting rage, she had not unravelled yet, but she would. The devastated wife in her desperately wanted to, needed to. Not now though,only when she was alone, only when she could clutch her daughter to her; the last remnant of the love of her life. For now, however, the duties of the Empress and the threat came first.
"Your Grace...?" Masas Tesk, one of her head advisors (son of one of Palpatine's head advisors) and stickler for protocol, broke the smouldering nothingness when it seemed no one else was brave enough; Poe and Ren included. "What should we do?"
For a moment, one could be forgiven for thinking that no one had spoken. That the Little Empress had been given nothing to respond to. Like a conversation had not been initiated. Until...
"The Resistance have declared war on the New Empire by launching an attack on a piracy patrol; a patrol conducted for the safety of the galaxy and her people." Scarcely composed, that beautiful Coruscanti husk (that she had never lost) held raw strain; whether she would suddenly scream or sob, no one could be sure. For the Little Empress, blind fury came first; paired with the cold steel blended into both her voice and her posture before she finally tore herself from the window. Naturally, those who found themselves in close council (the reason for their trusted presence during this critical time) with Her Imperial Highness followed the storm brewing as it left; all the while carefully side-stepping the train of delicate silk that trailed after her too. "They have branded themselves terrorists. It is time we treated them like it."
Poe swallowed his protest, knowing Keir had not acted on behalf of the Resistance. But... They would all suffer for it. Starting with him, given his proximity, and Kylo Ren (most likely) would work his way across the galaxy; snuffing out whoever was unfortunate enough to cross his path with this fresh push. That said, he had to try.
"Luce…" Rooted to the spot, Poe's exasperated exhale shuddered from his lungs under the collective scrutiny of those around him; those who had postponed their purposeful departure, turned to investigate where this hitch in precious time had come from. Finally, she turned, and that beautiful face donated her fragile attention. He would not have long.
"The Resistance didn't do this…" Hold your own, Poe. She'll listen. She's devastated but she'll listen to reason. "Keir acted alone, not on our behalf." Ren's chocolate eyes swept from Poe to the Little Empress, his sole focus. Our behalf. Suddenly, the heed on Poe's quaking form halved; he still commanded half the gazes in the cluster crowded around the Empress, but heads had started to swivel, following the rustle of delicate fabric as the fresh widow advanced on her cousin. Of course, where she went, Ren went. "You can't brand them all as terrorists, Luce… You can't…" Terrifyingly, she was upon him and it was the stony demeanour that made the pilot-turned-advisor's mild objection die on his tongue.
For what felt like an age, Poe found himself under the wordless dissection of eyes of a magnificent blue; almost exclusive to her. Instead of their usual gentility and benevolence, however, he found them clouded by thunder and agony; deep, deep agony.
"I don't expect you to understand, just like I didn't expect it then…" Lucilla's tone had softened, the patience resonating in it for her cousin's benefit and privately casting back to their initial meeting; the meeting that had brought him here and kept him here for nearly eight months. "But my husband is gone. My daughter is fatherless. The First Order military is without its Grand Marshal." As out of place as the thought might have seemed, Poe couldn't help but think of Leia. Not with the imposing threat of the New Empire tearing apart the galaxy to find her (well… that too), but Lucy. He felt the same internal writhe when the Resistance General scolded him quietly, eyes locked and voice low; his cousin did it in her stead. Still, he'd prefer to be yelled at.
"I may have indulged your split loyalties before, used them even in a bid to make you feel welcome and valued. But now, the time for pretending there is no threat is over. Not when they have openly attacked an Imperial patrol." Just like that, the sedate but intense chiding ceased and her glower broke; leaving a relieved but still dejected Poe in her wake as she tried to leave for the second time. But… That couldn't be it. He couldn't let that be it.
"It wasn't the Resistance!" He yelled at her retreating back, forgetting himself. "I'd know if-!" The die-hard Resistance pilot suddenly realized he had gone too far; far enough, in fact, for that purposeful trundle to halt. Then… Then… It dawned on Poe that he had spoken out of turn once too many times, and to the wrong person. He could poke fun at Ren and Hux all he wanted but when he went against her… that would spell serious consequences.
"What would you know?!" The scathing hiss when she re-appeared in a vehement flurry of silk before him with fear-inducing speed and purpose sent the hair on the back of his neck springing to attention. Yes, now Poe was in deep trouble. Mouth dry and brain failing him for an answer to the (rhetorical) question, those sparking eyes boring into his dared him for a wrong move or a wrong word; his gulp had been intended as a white flag but, raw with anguish, Lucilla went for the jugular anyway when she received nothing.
"Do you really think they would have included you in such a plot? When, for the last eight months, you have lived in absolute comfort and luxury as my advisor?" Perhaps Poe did try to respond but was quickly and ruthlessly circumvented when all he could manage was a trembling of his lips that couldn't even summon words. "They would have assumed your allegiances switched, and who could blame them? Are you telling me you still have their complete and total trust?" Maybe that hadn't quite occurred to him either, but it would certainly explain (accompanied by a sinking feeling in his innards) Finn's lack of his usual enthusiasm at his presence and even his guarded disposition. And almost definitely his hesitation in taking Poe up on the invitation to the palace.
"It wasn't them… I know in my gut it wasn't-"
"WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!" Poe jumped at the sudden, ear-splitting eruption from the tiny, splendour-wrapped body; he wasn't the only one either. If he thought he had poked the bear before, it was nothing compared to the reaction he elicited now. Chest heaving, nostrils flared, teeth bared, and sheer brutality etched into each darling feature, Lucilla was murderous.
"Luce-"
"WHEN I FOUND YOU IN THE UNDERCITY, WHAT ULTIMATUM DID I GIVE YOU?!" Naturally, the other advisors and Ren kept their distance lest they be the next target; unsolicited or not. But Lucilla only had burning eyes for Poe with her lip curled into a semi-permanent snarl. This question, unlike the one previous was not rhetorical; she wanted to hear him say it, to witness the degradation as he conceded it.
What else could he do? Resigned, outnumbered and landed on very unfriendly terrain with the most powerful person in the galaxy reigning verbal fire down upon him, Poe dropped the words quietly but enough to satisfy her. If such a thing could be done at this horrendous time.
"You can either stand in my way or you can stand at my side." Numbly and with ruefully dropped eyes, Poe recounted the words from that fateful day verbatim; of course, he remembered them, he had chewed them over often enough. Whether that had placated the Empress or not, Poe could not bring himself to look. Had he done so, however; he would have found himself at only partially the heed of his cousin. The other shared a flickered exchange with Ren, a shared thought, before she attempted one last (and successful) descent on the exit; leaving Poe with much to think about as she did.
"I think it's about time, cousin, for you to apply that ultimatum to your current predicament. Whatever about before, now more than ever. If I cannot trust you, I have no need for you."
Out of habit, the olive-skinned pilot went to follow (if a little more dejectedly than normal, like a kicked dog) but the clamour of advisors and close confidantes of the Empress continued without not one, but two of them; one blocking the other. Until it was just Poe and Ren in the vast expanse of the throne room; alone and with fluttering nerves roused by Ren's simmering menace. No, Poe didn't like this at all.
This is bad. Poe couldn't help but think it and judging by the twist of a smirk wringing its way into Ren's scarred cheek, the Supreme Leader read it loud and clear. Like an injured bird at the mercy of a taunting cat, the smaller of the two males was helpless to do anything but watch that suffocating prowl that cut off every escape route with each step.
"The Empress is very upset." That drawl sent shivers up and down his spine; jolting each vertebra with dread. Well, duh, Ren. Nope, don't think that either... Too late... Shit! Casual booted footstep upon casual booted footstep, the saunter was light (despite Ren's monstrous size) but dangerous. "You're being given a chance to ease her." For tormenting, dramatic effect (and to savour Poe squirming further), that ominous tread ceased and pivoted right before Poe's (colour drained) face. "And to prove yourself."
Every micro-movement and fleeting thought was being scrutinized; the flex of invisible, intangible fingers prickling on his brain told him so. But Poe knew it for what it was: A warning.
"You know what I can do." Ren went on in a sinister purr, prompting Poe to swallow involuntarily and therefore giving the solid shadow the indication that he was pushing the right buttons. "You got a taste of it after Jakku. But that was nothing." Trying desperately to hold firm and remain unfazed, the much smaller pilot, born of the very essence of the Rebellion, was anything but; lips folded and tongue curling back on itself in sheer apprehension. "You think she's going to give it too much thought if you're a drooling, gibbering mess in a detention cell if you don't cooperate? With the way she is now?" The scariest part of that? He was right. At a fearful loss and any other desperate measures evading him, Poe tried something else; a floundering attempt at deflection.
"I bet you're loving this." He snarled back, projecting a shaky front of accusation that he could only pray held; whether it held or not was irrelevant, not when Ren could see straight through it. "You hated that son of a bitch as much as I did. Now, she's alone and you can move in on her while she's vulnerable and grieving. How do I know you had nothin' to do with it?!"
"Because I never met Keir Bey." Maybe not entirely true but Ren opted to go with the technicality; he had never been introduced to Keir Bey. "How can I conspire with someone I never met? The closest I got to him was his little stunt on Coruscant. I was ready to kill him then and there, but I stopped. Guess why. Go on. Ask me why."
"Why?"
"Because she begged me not to. So it's not my loyalty being called into question here. It's yours. Give me something, or I'll take it. You went to Corellia. Why?"
No. No, no… Not Finn, he's not involved... Poe's own silence incriminated him, or Ren was just a good guesser.
"The Stormtrooper." As if this day, this last half an hour or so of it, couldn't get any worse, Ren picked up on that delicate scent without hint like a hound. And like a hound with a rabbit, he would not be letting go.
"No!" Poe stumbled over himself too fast and too loud for Ren's guess not to be significant; the echo in the chamber serving as a horrible reminder of his own inability to lie. "He's working in a shipyard, he's no threat to anyone!"
"I'm waiting, Dameron!" What else could he do? He had already failed to keep Finn off Ren's deadly radar, but the touched nerve continued to sting; much to Ren's sick (if slightly frustrated) delight. Options running out and those left were of disturbing consequence anyway, he had to choose and choose carefully; even the slightest chance of minimizing any damage and protecting himself in the process had to be the best option. Hence, his wildcard.
"The scavenger girl… Rey… She's based on Chandrila."
Dark eyes on the floor, Poe waited. For what, he could not entirely be sure, but he certainly had not expected… nothing? No triumphant laughter, no smug or snide remark, no hum of a lightsaber. As it happened, when Poe could eventually bring himself to face a fuming monster, hellbent on extracting the "truth", he found just that: Nothing. To such an extent that he internally questioned …where…?
Then… an answer. An answer in the shape of movement, purposeful urgent movement with barely a stomp of a boot or a whisper of a cloak. Heading for the door with such determination and drive, the last time Ren had moved in such a way, he had been physically reprimanded by his old master prior. Naturally, Poe almost choked on his panic and stumbled for a second time; doubt, something he was mostly unacquainted with, began to bubble and rippled in his frantic call to the Supreme Leader's back.
"Hey! HEY! Where you goin'?!"
The answer, that dreadful answer, chilled Poe to depths he did not know he could be chilled. One that Ren delivered without turning or even raising his voice, despite the growing distance he swiftly put between himself and Poe.
"Tell the Empress I'm going to get her pound of flesh."