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Chapter Text

From the Chancellor of Naboo's Office to All Members of the Royal Court of Naboo Regarding the King of Naboo's Unresolved Extenuating Circumstance and Travel Plans 

Dear esteemed members of the Royal Court, 

I write to inform you of an urgent matter that requires the attention of our beloved monarch, King Finn Adeyemi of Naboo. Due to an unresolved extenuating circumstance that has arisen, it is necessary for His Majesty to undertake immediate travel from the Royal Palace to the court of Yavin during this Midsummer. 

The specific details surrounding the extenuating circumstance are currently confidential and will be shared only with those who have a legitimate need to know, respecting the privacy of the royal family. I urge everyone to refrain from speculating or spreading rumors until official information is disclosed. 

During His Majesty's absence, the Chancellor of Naboo's Office, in collaboration with the Council of the First Order, will ensure the continuity of governance and manage any pressing matters that may arise. Rest assured that every effort will be made to maintain the stability and prosperity of our great kingdom in the King's absence. 

I kindly request all members of the Royal Court to extend their support and understanding during this time, and to offer any assistance that may be required to facilitate the King's travel arrangements. Please direct any inquiries related to this matter to my office, and we will do our best to address them promptly. 

Further updates on the King's travel and the resolution of the extenuating circumstance will be communicated as soon as they become available. Let us keep the King and our beloved kingdom in our thoughts and prayers during this uncertain period, and trust that His Majesty's wisdom and leadership will guide us through any challenges that lie ahead. Thank you for your attention and cooperation. 

Sincerely, 

Phasma, Chancellor of the First Order

Chapter Text

When he finally crossed the border between Yavin and Naboo, every instinct in Finn Adeyemi told him to run, to turn back and flee before this grand plan of theirs fell apart before his very eyes. But the King in him, the spirit that seemed to be the very bane of his existence and the reason for it, rebelled against the thought. It was no use turning back now. Not when he had come this far. 

Finn sat astride on his stallion, his gaze on the horizon, where he could see the capital of Yavin drawing closer with every step. He should be delighted, thrilled even, that after a century of bloodshed, a century of broken oaths and heartache, the enemy was willing to negotiate peace. His heart should be soaring. He should be sitting on his horse with a certain sense of pride, his shoulders back, a haughty smile, perhaps. But, all Finn could feel was his heart hammering violently against his chest, insistent drumbeats heralding a war he could not see with his own eyes but found himself marching towards anyway. 

“Finn?” came a small whisper to his side.

He did not have to turn to know it was Rey Skywalker, his bodyguard and best friend since childhood. As king, while Finn had learned to school his features to something neutral, no matter how he was truly feeling, Rey somehow seemed to know — his moods, his thoughts, it seemed she always did. 

“I can’t help but feel something is…” he didn’t complete his sentence. He didn’t have to, not with Rey. 

Phasma, his regent during his minority years had suggested this. He had no reason to distrust her, no reason to distrust this plan or the way she had managed to broker this chance at peace. But the fact remained he was now a king in enemy territory, leaving his country behind in the hands of the First Order, the colonial power that had ruled over Naboo for half a century. And while in their eyes, Finn was no more than a puppet, with no real controol, he still felt a pang of guilt in his gut. 

He was leaving his country behind. 

Rey placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked back at her for the first time that day. She looked regal in her armor, dark hair swept back in her signature three buns, her hazel eyes looking at him intently, boldly in a way only she could. While she was not truly a native of Naboo, she had grown up beside him all her life. His best friend, perhaps his only real friend in the entire world. 

“No matter what happens, I’m with you until the end,” she assured him, evidence of his very thoughts. 

He could not help but smile. “I know.”

As Poe Dameron paced around his bed chamber, he wondered how he’d gotten himself into this madness. The palace was generous, that much was true, but taking in a rival seemed too much. 

Why was it his responsibility to save the King of Naboo? If His Majesty could not maintain his own kingdom, he had no one to blame but himself. And yet, here was the Prince, unable to find reason in anyone except himself. 

He was expected to greet the King when he arrived, which sounded as pleasant as stabbing one’s self with a fork repeatedly during dinner. In the long mirror near the wardrobe, his reflection gave him tired eyes. He’d spent many long nights with his advisors arguing over the length of King Finn’s stay. Clad in his formal attire, Poe ran his fingers through his midnight hair. He was well versed in the art of diplomacy, but that did not include looking forward to one’s storied rival moving into their home. 

The grand dining room of the palace donned a combination of Yavin and Naboo’s colors. His royal advisors were committed, he would give them that. Poe’s brilliant oranges, yellows, and magentas majorly clashed with Finn’s blue and white. For Poe, this was some form of poetic justice. If even the colors didn’t mix pleasantly, how were the people supposed to? He didn’t get the chance to decide if this was comical or tragic before the trumpets sounded. 

Finn Adeyemi had arrived. Poe begrudgingly made his way to the entry hall. He was nearly surprised to see the King followed by his female bodyguard. They both looked exhausted, which was to be expected, but Poe selfishly hoped this meant their celebratory dinner would be brief. 

When he met the gaze of the King, his thoughts betrayed him. Even coated in sweat and sand, he was beautiful. He was clad in glimmering gold armor over his deep, cerulean agbada. A delicate pattern lined the sleeves and the hems down the middle. Poe was sure he’d never seen an article of clothing so intricate. The armor that stole one’s gaze from the garment did not belong on the King’s body. He knew this, but he also knew that he needed to stop thinking about the King. In any manner. 

Poe bowed his head and inhaled a breath. When he uttered, “Your Majesty,” in Finn’s native tongue, an unreadable emotion crossed Finn’s expression. 

“Your Highness,” Finn’s expression remained blank. But then, with the smallest hint of a smirk, he said, “It appears I speak your language better than you speak mine.” 

Poe found himself grasping for words, or maybe for air to replenish the wind knocked out of him. As the men merely glared at one another, Poe regretted all of the time he had spent learning this language to show the King he was welcome. Apparently, respect went only one way in their new, less than diplomatic, relationship. He knew that if he did not salvage the meeting, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. 

“I do hope your journey was not — tumultuous.” Poe ungracefully stumbled through his attempt to rescue the interaction. His cheeks flushed with a crimson he desperately hoped wasn’t noticeable. 

“It was a suitable journey indeed,” Finn replied. “We are, however, famished .” 

At his sides, his fingernails bit into his palm. It came as no surprise to Poe that the King was not used to waiting. He forced a smile, “If you’ll follow me through to the dining room. Dinner will be ready shortly.” 

Their meal was mostly silent save for small talk made by Poe’s advisors. He imagined that was the way both men would have preferred. He also noticed the King’s female bodyguard keeping a close eye on him. Not just him. Everyone in the room, including the guards near the entrances. Unease settled in Poe’s stomach. 

He was not very hungry to begin with. As he occasionally did, he’d probably sneak off to the kitchens late tonight for a meal in solitude. Since coming into his position as Prince, Poe found he despised having his every move observed like a caged animal. Peace was a feeling he had forgotten. He could only guess how drastically his life was going to change, yet again, now that the King had arrived. 

It wasn’t much of a celebratory dinner. While the combined colours of their nations stood side by side, while the bards sang and the advisors and nobles present chatted pleasantly to each other and sometimes to both Finn and Poe, neither of the two royals had spoken another word to each other.

It was safe to say Finn was not particularly fond of the Crown Prince of Yavin. He had no reason to be, after all, they were sworn enemies. Though he supposed he could have been kinder to him during their first conversation. The language of Naboo was not easy, and it was admirable that Poe had even tried to learn it in the first place. But, Finn was tired from his journey and frustrated by the circumstances. Hearing the Yavinese Prince butcher his way through his mother tongue would have been a horror he was not sure he would be able to truly bear. 

So no, Finn was not particularly fond of Poe Dameron, but somehow through their otherwise silent meal, he found his eyes drawn to him regardless. He was a handsome man, his features were like those of a hero straight from a history book page. It took one's breath away. His dark curling hair fell over his hooded brown eyes. He was dressed sharply a simple gold circlet adorning his head wearing the ceremonial garments of Yavin, bright orange embroidered with gold flowers. On anyone else the colour would have looked ridiculous but on Poe…

“You’re staring,” Rey whispered from beside him, pulling Finn out of his reverie. 

Finn wanted to answer, childishly, if a little petulantly that he was doing nothing of the sort, but he knew better. He tore his eyes away from the prince and focused on the food in front of him. It seemed to be some sort of seafood soup with green plantain and coconut milk. He was not sure what they called it in Yavin, and perhaps it would have made for good conversation during the meal, but Finn was too tired to ask.

 It did not stop him from relishing the soup, devouring it like a man starved. 

A thing that Poe Dameron seemed to notice.

“Is it usual practice for the First Order to starve their monarchs?” Poe asked, Finn looked up at him. There was a hint of amusement in his voice which rankled something in Finn. 

In an instant he is eight years old again, it had been five years since his parents died and he was locked in his rooms in the palace, cavernous, far too big for a boy of eight. Phasma had told him that he needed to be good. The painful grumbling in his stomach would only get worse, burning away at any reason for goodness. 

“Is it usual practice for the Crown Princes of Yavin to insult the eating habits of foreign guests over dinner?” Finn retorted, doing nothing to hide the distaste and the bitterness of the memory. 

The smile fell off Poe’s face. “I only meant… never mind.”

In an instant, Finn wanted to ask what exactly Poe had truly meant. But the advisors nearest to them were looking at them curiously, if a little entertained, waiting for him to slip up somehow. He decided not to give any of them the satisfaction by continuing any further with his bickering with the Prince. 

“I’m sorry my father can’t be here to greet you,” said Poe after a while. “He…” 

Poe paused as if he had given away too much. But Finn knew his words for what they were. An olive branch, a peace offering and by the gods he seemed sincere too. 

Finn nodded. 

“Kingship is a burden only a few are able to handle, I do not fault him.” he offered and for a moment Poe seemed grateful. For the life of him, Finn was unable to discern why. 

The dinner ended quickly after that, a thing Finn suspected Poe too was glad for. The Prince stood and it was only then that Finn noticed that the other man’s meal was practically untouched.

“If you will allow me to escort you to your chambers,” Poe offered softly.

There was a furrow in Poe’s brow as spoke those words. For a Prince, the other man was all too easy to read, and Finn could tell he was just as frustrated as Finn felt. For the first time today, the King felt a twinge of sympathy for Poe Dameron. He bit back a ready retort and offered Poe what he hoped was a kind smile. 

He nodded his assent, standing up. 

With that, he and Rey followed Poe out of the dining room. The palace was as ornate as Finn had expected from the various sketches his ambassadors had sent to him. He could probably name the exact make of each finery considering how much Phasma had made him study the culture of Yavin before he came here. 

As well as Finn’s own guard, they were flanked by two members of what Finn could only assume was Poe’s personal guard, the Black Squadron. Even back on Naboo, he had heard of them, five of the Kingdom’s bravest warriors all under the command of the Prince. As of now a short slender woman with dark was saying something in Poe’s ear while the large man at the other side seemed to barely suppressing laughter. Finn couldn't see Poe’s face clearly but he was more than certain he was going red. 

The room Poe showed him was spacious, adorned in the finery one would expect from royalty, he wanted to say something about the beauty of the room, but bit his tongue when he noticed Poe was looking at him strangely.

When their eyes met Poe averted his gaze preferring to look at his shoes instead. 

“You should rest,” he mumbled.  

All Finn could do was nod, knowing full well that tomorrow was going to be far from pleasant. But he would go through any kind of hell if it meant he could save his people. 

The solitude of his bedchamber warmly welcomed Poe. He was not the one who had travelled today, yet his body screamed at him. His thoughts were heavy in his mind while he undressed from his regal attire. Replaying moments from the evening, he basically collapsed into his bed. 

His gaze focused on the pattern of the ceiling. Since he was a child, Poe adored sleeping under his artful rendition of the night sky. As he was tutored growing up, he developed a fascination with astronomy. The stars reminded the Prince that he was part of something much bigger than the Kingdom, his family, much bigger than himself. Perhaps those very stars would help guide Poe through whatever the near future may bring with the King.