The wedding reception was rather dull.

"Congratulations,"

"Who are you?"

"Well, I'm the president of—"

"Never mind. Excuse me for a moment."

Did anyone in the universe have any basic decency? He had gotten married only thirty standard minutes prior yet world leaders and government officials were already jumping at the chance to get in the good graces of the king's husband. As if he held any power whatsoever besides arm candy.

Speaking of which, when first entering the reception, the mandalorian had dropped Poe's hand the first chance he got as if it had burned him. They hadn't been in the presence of each other the entire evening. Poe wasn't entirely opposed to such a relationship if that's what the king wanted, but he found it odd to say the least.

"Ignoring the masses, are you?" Finn spoke up as soon as the pilot glued himself to his side.

"They're going to eat me." Poe clung to his best friend's arm, looking around at the wave of politicians. "And this shiny armor is a literal beacon for them."

The two laughed together for only a few moments before they were interrupted, by none other than a chancellor who introduced himself as the ruler of a rich mining planet called Darneale.

"Yes, I believe I've heard of it." Poe drawled with a bored expression evident on his face. He tried to focus on the man's face but only found himself staring at a blank spot on the wall behind his shoulder.

"It's a very profitable planet and I'm sure your beloved would appreciate a portion of the profits if he would give us a few mandos for protection." The man's words were slightly slurred though Poe couldn't tell if it was drunkenness or an accent, maybe both.

Poe only nodded. He knew that gracing people like the chancellor with a spoken response would only egg them on even more. He turned to Finn, setting his hand on his shoulder for a moment.

"I'm going to go get a drink, want anything?" To which Finn shook his head no, explaining that he didn't want to co-pilot a ship while tipsy.

The walk to the bar felt like miles in Poe's boots. They were a hard leather that didn't show any signs of breaking in. He felt infuriated as he sat down, immediately ordering a non-alcoholic drink. Poe didn't need a wedding night in which he was intoxicated.

He grimaced at the idea of what the night would ensue.

"Wouldn't you want something stronger?"

It was the chancellor, of course it was. He couldn't catch a break, could he?

"Nope." The pilot popped the 'p' before taking another sip of his drink.

Of course, the man took the reply as an invitation to sit next to Poe, on his left. All the while Poe was sitting on the very right edge of his seat.

"Why aren't you with your spouse?" The man leaned closer than Poe would have preferred.

The pilot merely shrugged his shoulders, staring at his drink before getting up and leaving to a more quiet corner of the large room. He heard footsteps behind him when he stopped moving. Please leave, please leave, please leave.

"Ah," The chancellor was there as soon as Poe turned around. "So it's that type of marriage is it?" He sidled up closer at the commander's silence, mocking a stage whisper.

"Then you, of course, wouldn't mind if I..." The world leader suggested, placing a strong hand on the side of Poe's torso. It quickly traveled downwards.

"Get off of me." Poe seethed, pushing at the man's arm.

His attempts didn't earn him much help as the man's left hand quickly grabbed at his hip again, his other place on the pilot's upper arm. If his arm wouldn't have bruised before, it definitely would now.

"Come on, now. I'm sure your king wouldn't mind." The man tried to ease Poe's fighting with soft words and an iron grip. The pilot winced, trying to reel away.

The chancellor wasted no time, kissing Poe's lips. It wasn't kind. It was hungry and aggressive as he bit down on the pilot's lower lip.

Poe stopped fighting, to which the larger man loosened his grip in a euphoric daze. The pilot took his chance, decidedly kneeing the man in the crotch maliciously.

The man quickly bent over himself, using his arms as a form of protection. Before Poe could do any further damage a hand was on the chancellor's shoulder from behind, aggressively throwing him onto the floor.

The Mand'alor stood with his legs on either side of the chancellor's lying form, grabbing at the man's collar with his left hand and yanking him upward, raising his right hand in the air.

The king's gloved fist violently struck the chancellor's face over and over. Poe could hear the mandalorian's heavy breathing modulated behind his mask as he continually beat the man.

After the first three punches, the chancellor was unconscious and bleeding profusely from both nostrils. That attracted the attention of mostly the entire room. The fact that the Mand'alor didn't stop was what made them move closer.

The commander didn't move, still leaning against the wall rigidly. He wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was a multitude of reasons. Fear, definitely. He was certain that if he interrupted the mandalorian, he could very well be on the receiving end of that fist.

The woman with dark hair, whom Poe had learned only fifteen minutes ago as Cara Dune, grabbed at the king's right arm, stopping it from reigning down on the chancellor again. She murmured something, though what she said was unheard by Poe.

When she took a few steps away, the Mand'alor let go of the chancellor's beaten form, letting his bloody head fall to the floor with a loud thud. He straightened his back, before stepping over the unconscious body, and turning around.

Poe didn't look either the king or Cara Dune in the face, deciding to look down at their shoes as they thudded towards him.

"Are you alright?" The mandalorian asked, though made no move to touch Poe. His voice was different, sounding rougher than what it had at the ceremony. Poe looked up to meet his visor, his brows furrowed.

"Are you?" He gestured to the man's right hand. The leather hid his hand but he was sure it was injured.

The king didn't say anything as Cara leaned in slightly to take a look at Poe's face.
"The freak bit you pretty hard, maybe you should go to med bay."

Poe's fingers touched his swollen lip, drawing them back to see that there was a considerable amount of blood coating them. Now that he thought about it, he could easily feel a small stream of blood traveling down to meet his chin.

Poe only nodded his head, not entirely trusting his voice in that moment. He didn't say anything as the Mand'alor led him to the med bay while Cara spoke with General Organa.

Why was he shaking like a coward? It shouldn't have been that big of a deal. He had been tortured by Kylo Ren with a look of defiance on his face, why was this moment any different?

He should have fought harder, it was his fault. He should have spoken to the chancellor differently, maybe then it wouldn't have happened the way it did. Maybe then he wouldn't have embarrassed himself in front of his new tribe. Their king's spouse can't even defend himself, what a coward. Such a fucking coward.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when a surprisingly gentle hand on his upper back made him flinch. It was the Mand'alor, attempting to lead him to their left, into the med bay.

The mandalorian didn't say anything, only removing his hand from the pilot's back before gesturing to the entrance. Poe was grateful for that, he'd rather not be further embarrassed for being so shaken up.

The med droid quietly whirred as it tended to Poe's wounded lip. The pilot was seated on the examination bench while the Mand'alor stood against the threshold of the room.

It was only there for a few moments before it scurried away, moving to tend to the king. The Mand'alor raised his palm quickly to halt it's movements, to which the droid beeped at Poe quickly before leaving to shut down.

"Says there's bacta spray over there if you need it." Poe translated, nodding towards the cupboard in front of him. The other man made no move towards it, watching Poe quietly.

Poe didn't say anything either.

After a few moments of staring at each other Poe lazily stood up, moving to stand in front of the mirror. He could easily see the mandalorian looking at him in the mirror, though he payed no mind to it.

He gently jabbed his bottom lip. When his hand pulled at it, he winced as a fingernail scratched over a wound inflicted from the chancellor's incisors.

God, the man had been brutal in the mere moments he had spent with control over him. Poe physically shuddered at the thought.

He found his mind already caught in a whirl alternate realities of what else could have happened.