dragonwarder | (no subject)

Only that you feared him. And that you sent him away, at ten years of age.

[Her posture does not change. In truth, that is more than enough to damn a parent, in her eyes. He has already made it clear that her opinion does not matter to him -- and that is fine. Or it would be, if she were yet used to her opinion not carrying weight.

It had been months, and she was still not over it. That recognition smarts her a little -- not that Han would have any idea of that.

But some context -- maybe it would make him more amicable to share the information. She won't tell him of the context that caused Kylo Ren to share the information in the first place. Viserys was still a sore subject, and she was still angry with Rey for having used it against her. She will not give Han that same chance.

Some might call it emotional manipulation. But to her, it is a simple business transaction. for information she needs to protect someone close to her.]

I was a mother, for a time. But my son never had the chance to be born before his life was taken from him.

I'm sorry.

( it's automatic, and sincerely meant. not all people who have children are parents, but the ones that are... that love is a constant, unshakable force. han's brow creases, following old frown lines.

he recognizes it for what it is. a transaction. information offered with the expectation of something given in return. yet her being a mother and knowing the loss of a child isn't relevant to him the way ben's struggles are to her. han's a smuggler, he knows too well how equivalent exchange works and that this doesn't come close. but it's evidence enough that she's at least trying. that she wants to understand. han closes his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose. something... surrenders in his posture, and when he opens his eyes he doesn't look at her, but out across the bar. then, in returning to her he says: )

Let's make one thing clear. I never feared him.

( not once. leia knew she was pregnant before even their advanced medical tests would have shown it. he still remembers her taking his hand and resting it on the flat plane of her stomach and telling him they would have a son together, and that he would be strong in the force. stronger than her. stronger than luke. they'd known.

han hadn't cared. he'd loved ben into being from that moment onward. even when ben had driven his saber through his chest and he fell, he'd tried with his last conscious thought to will forgiveness into the force between them. )

I feared for him. There's... something in my universe... like an ability, almost. Called the Force. Using it is like tapping into... the energy of everything. You feel everything. These people were called Jedi, if they used their abilities for good. Or Sith, if they used them for evil. Don't give me that 'it's all relative' shit — I mean protecting or helping people versus killing them. Torturing them.

( his tone maybe flattens out a bit when he says torturing. )

Ben was strong in the Force. Maybe stronger than anyone else who'd come before. The Jedi had been eradicated just about to a man in a violent uprising when I was a kid. Every trace of the Order the Empire could get their hands on was wiped off the face of the universe. We had almost nothing. Knew almost nothing. We didn't have the first idea how to help him manage those abilities. And the older he got, the more it was obvious that he needed guidance we couldn't give him. Love wasn't enough.

( but ben must have felt so alone. han looks down at his hands, rough and nicked and worn with an age he never expected to live to. )

So yeah, we sent him away. To his uncle, Luke, who was the last living Jedi who'd ever trained with a real master. Luke was trying to revive the Order, to guide kids, like Ben, who were struggling. We thought it was the right thing.

Edited 2020-02-18 01:54 (UTC)

Thank you.

[That is all she can say, on the matter of Rhaego. She was still haunted by the whole thing, and it takes a great deal of effort to keep the emotion out of her face. She doesn't quite manage it.

But fortunately, Han chooses to move on from it before long. If the subject matter were less serious, she might have smiled at the way he quantifies what "good" and "evil" means. Almost as if he already knew what she might have said, even if he couldn't possibly have known. All of the energy he gives her is a lot to take in -- it was more than either Rey or Kylo Ren had imparted to her, though she had never asked. She never would have known or thought to ask.

She would have to ask them, if they ever came back, for their perspective on it. Kylo Ren, most of all.]

He told me of power, but...

[Somehow, this isn't what she'd thought. Intense, worldbinding empathy? It would explain why he was so...detached. Like she was. The weight of everyone's energy, of the energy of a family, a city, a world.

How could anyone fathom that? She takes a long moment to try and imagine it, in the context of what Han gives her. And truthfully, it is impossible to grasp. But she manages at least a bit, thanks to her familiarity with the empathy bond. The Force, she imagines it to a larger scale.

Now it is Daenerys' turn to tap her fingers upon the table. Her's is not a nervous, anxious drumbeat, but a thoughtful and graceful, repetitive flow of each of her nails hitting the table's surface in sequence.]

I suppose it wasn't.

[She says it like the ending of her inquiry, and not like she is seeking more information. It easily closes the chapter of her thoughts on Han Solo, smuggler, hero, general, father.]

In that case, I apologize for my previous remarks upon your character.

[She meets his eyes this time, and for a second it seems like that is all she is going to say. Like she does not owe him more than that.]

Your son is dear to me, and my family was broken by people who thought they were doing the right thing as well.

[The awkward pauses suggests there is more to it than that, but the way she looks away from him suggests she isn't quite ready to share that level of grief with him yet.]

I am glad you both may have the chance to make your peace with it all.

Edited 2020-02-18 02:09 (UTC)

( his eyebrows raise, just like that? but he doesn't offer anything else. only — )

Well, apology accepted. It's easy to think the worst of people. Hell, I'm from Corellia. If Ben's never told you what it was like... let's just say I have a lot of experience with the scum of the earth.

( he shakes his head. rueful. those days are long behind him, but... they still inform who he is in all the wrong ways and only a few of the right ones. the silence that settles this time is easier to bear.

at length, )

Your son. Did he have a name?

( it feels important to know. )

He does not say much to me about his home. Neither does Rey.

[But that is fine. She's never asked either. It seemed unkind to ask of home when it seemed there was little hope in returning to it.

But then he asks after her son.

She smiles very lightly at the memory of it when he asks her the question. But it is a tired thing -- whatever she lost, she'd lost it long ago. Whether or not she's made peace with it though...]

Rhaego. For his father, and my elder brother.

( these things always have a curious gravity. han's lost so many friends over the years, but hearing the named dead never gets any easier.

he gives her a nod and lifts his glass up, tipping his head to it slightly. )

May I?

( make a toast. he figures it's about as universal a gesture as you can get to honor anyone gone on. )

[She feels foolish suddenly, when he asks. Her smile falters and her jaw gets tight in an effort to hide her surprise over the offer. She certainly didn't deserve it, after how cruel she had been to him -- even if it had been born of concern for Kylo Ren. Even though he had forgiven her.

A thousand thoughts run through her head. None of them are kind. In the end, she nods silently while fighting the urge to bite her lip (a childish impulse), and grips the delicate neck of her glass.]

( he reaches across the table to clink his glass against hers very gently. wine glasses are notoriously delicate. he gives it a moment, searching his memory for something to say. the loss of a child is an impossible thing to bear, and she's just a kid. younger than leia would have been. nobility by nature stands apart from the thronging masses, and hasn't she just admitted to him that she was all but alone? torn apart by good intentions. he can read between the lines of what she chose to say.

but her son is something closely guarded. he told him because she wanted something. how many others know this truth of her?

at length, )

For Rhaego. May peace carry him to a place you'll meet again.

( it's a very corellian toast. death was a constant in the slums, you learned to live with it. the most anyone could hope for before he dared to dream of better things was a quick death. and to most, it was something seen as a relief from how hard it was to just live. )

[She knows the value of another culture's words. Han's choice of toast says enough about where he comes from that she can respect it. It was not a very Dothraki toast -- Dothraki would never glorify peace or calm. It was unlikely that Old Valyrians would either.

But Corellians do. Or perhaps that was just Han. She would likely never know.]

For Rhaego.

[The drink she takes after is long, though not so long as to be overdramatic or gauche. With that done, it is time for her to again pack her sorrows away in favor of moving on from examining it for too long.

Instead, she backtracks to something else he had said to her, brows knitting curiously as she glances into what is left of her wine.]

What defines "scum" to you?

( he sets his beer down on its coaster and mulls over it. honestly, it could mean a lot of things, but what he finally settles on: )

Someone who uses other people without care or regard for their safety, or compensation for their hardships or risks. The sort of people who'd let you die for a day's wages and not even give a shit what your name was as long as they got theirs.

( how many times did he risk his life, all before he was a teenager? he'd been alone on the streets most of his life. you do what you have to to survive it. it never mattered to him that he didn't like who he became until leia. han shrugs a little, though one shoulder doesn't go up as far as the other. old injuries. )

Corellia was basically a few rich, ruling families, and everybody else was a gutter rat they stepped on. Trust me, I busted out of that place as soon as I got the chance.

[Hearing Han talk about Corellia's cruelty is a balm she didn't quite expect. It reaffirms her desire to rule, reminds her why she'd become so determined to reclaim her birthright. It wasn't about the power, or the glory, or the respect. It was to obliterate climates like those found on Corellia, where the rich crushed those without power and took advantage of them.]

I am sorry you felt the need.

[She sets the glass down away from her. It isn't quite done, but it is a firm and slightly incensed gesture, as if to make the point that this news has made her unhappy. Maybe even angry.

But it feels good to know that she and Han are on the same page here. It further solidifies in her mind that he'd spoken truly about his relationship with his son to her.]

That is precisely the sort of tyranny I seek to abolish in the Seven Kingdoms.

Eh, I never would've been happy on the ground anyway. Always wanted to fly.

( always. his father built ships, he never had much of an interest in that. as far back as he can remember he wanted to be up amidst the stars. if he'd been born millennia earlier, he probably would have sailed the sort of ships she's familiar with. something, anything to get away. being anchored to a single place was an unimaginable cruelty to a wayward soul. he worries at some small, sticky stain on the table with his fingernails and sort of exhales in a laugh. )

Well, you've got your work cut out for you. Sentient beings are bastards wherever you go, I can't see that changing between universes or levels of technology. And there's always some asshole that thinks they have the divine right to lord over everything.

( he's thinking of the empire, of course. of palpatine and snoke and vader and every idea that was ever put into his son's head. )

[That SURE IS A SENTENCE HE JUST SAID. There's an awkward silence that stretches between them while she waits for him to...what? Realize what came out of his mouth? Remember whom he is talking to? Apologize?

Can she let it roll off her back? No, not really. Her brows knit.

(She supposes she cannot blame someone adversely affected by authority to detest it, but it still hurts).]

Yes. I suppose I do have my work cut out for me.

[How else is she supposed to take that???]

Perhaps not so much, given the "divine right to lord over everything". and all.

( except that no one at any point has informed han that daenerys is a queen. he knows she's nobility, but that doesn't mean much to him to start. so he is patently oblivious to her discomfort right up until she speaks.

a few things sort of click into place after that. han's never been all that slow on the uptake. )

Royalty, huh?

Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms and rightful heir to the Iron Throne, yes.

[She says it casually, instead of like a threat, to highlight the fact that she isn't exactly happy with his proclamation, even if she recognizes where it comes from and his right to have it.

She spreads her hands in a gesture of "there you have it", and tilts her head to gauge Han's reaction.]

Less to do with divinity and more to do with my Targayren blood.

Edited 2020-02-26 04:53 (UTC)

( oh, he can sense her royal displeasure from here. he's been on the receiving end of a very similar sort now on occasion more than half his life. he is and will remain unimpressed. )

So, your blood qualifies you to rule?

As a matter of fact, it does.

[This time, her eyes are flinty, and her hands clench in a clear effort to manage her temper that she can feel rising to the surface again. He's baiting her -- and she's letting him.

When did she get so sloppy?]

In Westeros, it is blood, or cutting someone's head from their neck. Which would you prefer?

( it actually gets a laugh, the vaguely desolate chuckle of a man who's seen more than a few beheadings in his day. at least sabers cauterize. )

Okay. Hear me out.

( he holds his hands up, peaceable. forestalling comment. )

I'm not questioning your leadership. I'm sure you've had all the appropriate instruction and experience in courtly intrigue, et cetera. Royals go through a lot of training and I should know, I married one. Trust me, I know it's a headache and a half.

( he can use the appropriate manners when he needs to, but most of the time he doesn't give a damn. he lets his reputation precede him. )

But it's one Hell of a disservice to say that anyone gets where they are by virtue of their lineage. You can't control who you're born to. It doesn't matter more than hard work. Being a leader means nothing unless you know how to lead. Unless your people will follow you. A blood right presupposes some divine competence that doesn't exist. Maybe it puts you in a better position to get those skills, but no one deserves anything for the accident of being born. If blood dictated your position in life, I would've died in a gutter fifty years ago.

( he's always hated the skywalker mythos, everything built up around it. look what it did to leia. look what it did to luke and ben. having a lineage meant having something to live up to, or something to overcome. both were shitty for different reasons. )

Edited 2020-02-26 06:26 (UTC)

Do not patronize me, Han.

[Daenerys says this only after she's given him his chance to speak, so that she can offer that reply without feeling as if she's not offering him his fair say. The flint cools only slightly when she is able to unpack his perspective and what informs it.

But she is no less unhappy with him for his assumptions]

You do not know what it takes to rule in Westeros. And little to nothing about me, my family, or my people.

( wryly, )

You'd know if I was patronizing you. I'd be calling you Your Highness.

( he still reverted to that in arguments with leia sometimes. somewhere along the way it had become a title of affection, but. still, slightly patronizing. )

Look, I've been on hundreds of planets. Seen just as many different forms of government and then some. I know what people are like. Human, mirailan, twi'lek... it doesn't matter. They're the same everywhere. Dumb and greedy and selfish, and only a few have what it takes to rise above that. Everyone just wants to survive. It gets old after a while. Maybe your world has something I haven't seen before, but... a friend of mine has this saying.

( he misses maz, all of a sudden. she always knew how to make sure someone's head was screwed on straight. )

'If you live long enough, you see the same eyes in different people'. You? I see my wife in you. Leia — she's a princess, I mentioned that. She watched her home be destroyed by her own father. She had to go on the run for years. She became a general, same as me, doing the same stuff. Fighting against an impossible enemy with all the advantages. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm guessing your story is something close to that.

[There is something strange about being told that you remind a man of his wife. She decides not to unpack that, and instead take it as the compliment it is meant to be.]

You are wrong.

[She says this firmly, though not unkindly. Now is not the time to unpack her tragic backstory -- truthfully, she does not feel nearly comfortable enough to go into all the gorey details of it.]

The enemy is not impossible. And the advantages are mine, now. Three of them, along with a navy, and an army that twice outpaces the tyranny I seek to snuff out.

[She sips at her wine thoughtfully. The more she told this story, the more anxious she got. It all seemed so far away, and she was getting more and more eager to get back to it. As if Cersei was somehow gaining ground while she was gone, even though in her heart she knew that was impossible.]

If they ever dane to send me back, the pretender on my throne will never have a chance to sacrifice another life to feed her greed ever again.

( the advantages are hers now. he takes it for what it is, and gives a genial shrug. he's got enough of her measure that he doesn't need to be right on the money. the point is, he's not wrong. )

And then what?