eiattu_pride | (no subject)

(no subject)

Rial's been waiting ever since the call from Hilunda came in. Waiting, chewing nervously on his fingernails, wishing and hoping and praying that somehow this is all some big mistake, a nightmare, a hoax.

Inside, he knows that it's not true.

But oh, oh how he wishes it was.

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Rial watches the recording over and over. Sometimes, when he does, he imagines drawing a blaster and shooting the man right between the eyes. Sometimes, he looks away, and sometimes he watches it intently. He watches it until he has it memorized, until it plays itself over and over in his head even when he isn't watching it.

And every time, he sees that bluestone and he sees the look in the Baron's eyes and he sinks a little further into the dark place that tells him if he'd been there, if he's asked that she take extra security, if, if, if...he could have stopped it.

But it's over now and they have her and he has to destroy either the planet he's worked so hard to remake, or he has to destroy the woman he loves.

The needs of the many, or the one.

Rial leans on the desk, puts his head in his hands and stares dry-eyed at the paper-littered surface.

He can't make this choice.

He can't.

(he must)

It's hard to say how long the Grand Duke Gror Pernon has been standing in the doorway behind Rial. Maybe for a few seconds. Maybe through four viewings of the recording. Dressed in the nondescript black civilian clothing that he favors these days, his eyes on his son, the grand duke looks tired in the low light.

With the recording halted, the elder Pernon steps out of the doorway, and he leans over Rial's shoulder to press 'stop' on the player. "Enough, Rial." He's quiet a moment, and his voice has lost much of its edge when he repeats, "Enough."

It takes Rial a second to look up, but when he does, seeing his father, he slides out of his seat and bows politely.

Staring at the wall behind Gror's left shoulder, "Grand Duke." His voice is tight, controlled, detached.

He nods distractedly in return to the bow, but he didn't make the trip to the palace to be Grand Duke Pernon. Those days are over now; it's a title and little more. "I happened to speak to an old friend of mine today; he told me that the palace was in a quiet uproar, if there's any such thing." He shakes his head softly, face drawn. "I'm sorry, Rial."

Rial nods, turning back to the player, hand hovering over 'start', but not quite pressing it yet. "I'll have to make a decision by tomorrow," he says quietly. Starts to say something else, and then stops, staring at the desk.

"I should have been there."

A hand settles on his shoulder, and whether or not Rial is still looking at the desk, his father is looking up at him calmly. "If you had been there, they would have both of you now. You're not going to gain a thing from blaming yourself for something that you had no power over."

He's right, and Rial knows he's right. But he still looks away for a long moment, then gives a kind of hopeless laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"If Plourr was here, she'd - she'd tell me I was being an ass and that I can't give up Eiattu."

"She's a strong woman, your wife." Gror almost smiles, folding his arms over his chest, but all potential mirth is gone quickly. "What are you going to tell them?"

"She's beautiful," says Rial, and glances away for a long moment. Finally, "I don't know."

"Not much of a choice," he says, looking up at his tall son steadily and sadly, too. He and Isplourrdacartha started off rocky with that punch, but he respects her; black bones, he has even slowly grown to like her. And he knows very well how Rial feels about her. "Is it?"

He's silent a moment, standing there in the deserted conference room, bushy white brows drawn together.

"Son, have you seen any proof that they have her?"

Gror is asking if he has any evidence that she's alive, without saying the words.

"No, says Rial, "it isn't." And that's just it, flat and quiet because he knows what he has to do, what he should do, what she'd do...and he knows what he wants to do.

But Gror's question makes him clench his fists briefly, then shrug.

"They have something I gave her. A dagger, concealed under a bluestone. You may have seen her wearing it. But I don't know if she's alive or not."

They could have taken it from her corpse is what he means, and what he won't say.

Gror won't say it, either. He's certainly thinking it, but he won't say it. "Use that," he says, with all the wisdom of years in the ruling class on a planet where kidnapping is a common (capital) crime. "Demand to see evidence that she is alright. Buy yourself some time."

Rial glances up, already running that through his mind, yes, it would buy them time...and it would show him if she was still alive.

"I will. And if she's," and oh he doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to think it, can't say it, "if she's," and then his voice fails him and he looks back at the floor.

Gror Pernon has never been a touchy feely man, nor a touchy feely father. But he reaches out all the same and rests a hand--stronger than it looks--on Rial's shoulder. "You can't possibly know," he says, "but you have two things going for you. One, they're a band of idiots, but they are not idiotic enough to do away with their only bargaining chip. They're desperate, and she is all they have. And two--" He smiles, then, faint as it is. "It would take a Sith of a lot to bring down that princess of yours."

The smile is gone fast to be replaced by steely, steady calm. "Whatever you choose to do, I will be here. Do what you need to do, Rial."

"Yes," says Rial, and he remembers the way Plourr fights, remember how she looks with blood dripping from her knuckles and he smiles, "yes, it would."

And then he glances sideways, and nods, tone formal. "I understand, sir."

A beat, and, "Father?"

Gror folds his arms again, glancing up, listening. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

Rial bows, then turns, already moving to leave the room.

He's got work to do.

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