a/n: a thing? I am not sure what this is. I think I like it? Y'know, one of those ideas that won't go away, and thus, has to be written (or nothing ELSE gets written, while it distracts me...) -
Perception
Despite how long she had been amongst the rank and file of the Rebel Alliance, Princess Leia remained an isolated figure – perceived as unapproachable, chilly, and detached. She was treated with respect and reverence, as her station required, but over the years it became grating – the more deference she was given, the more alienated she felt.
Her upbringing had instilled in her an understanding of the need for leaders to be somewhat aloof, but the loneliness that surrounded her now as a displaced princess, a symbol of tragedy, and a member of the hierarchy, was almost unbearable when juxtaposed with the easy, roguish companionship that sprung up among the ordinary recruits.
Leia had strong, amicable connections with the high command, and excellent rapports with men like Carlist Rieekan; she had cordial acquaintances and people she got along with – and, more importantly than she was willing to realize, at times, she had Luke, and she had Han – but Luke often exuded a puppyish fascination with her, and Han was – Han.
It was a recent snag with Han that had her reflecting on the lack of connection in her life since Alderaan had been obliterated – the man infuriated her, and had an irritating knack for poking all her most sensitive nerves in the most profoundly uncanny way – but he'd started avoiding her of late, and her most recent exchange with him had been terse, more heavily sarcastic on his part than was usual. The tension between them – which was elevated from the average level of 'that's just Han and Leia for you' to 'Han is for some reason actually angry at Leia' – left her bewildered, and bereft.
She greatly resented the latter emotion, and was struggling to sort it out as she directed inventory stocking in one of the more classified supply lockers – she was oblivious to the cold, and she was trying to be oblivious to her current companion's stiff, formal, and marginally hostile attitude, as it was only reminding her that people were not at ease around her.
"No," Leia spoke, in what she thought was a quiet tone, balancing her voice easily, "Belacqua – keep trackers separate from body cameras."
The woman, Belacqua Tarse, barely glanced at Leia as she inclined her head respectfully and re-arranged something – and Leia felt a rush of irritation, primarily because Belacqua was someone she'd always considered to be tolerable, and whom she'd always gotten along with.
She was by no means close to her – Leia's female friends had died with Alderaan, and it seemed her ability to make female friends had, as well, but Belacqua had always been warm, and less prone to the standoffish, wariness many people exhibited towards Leia.
The trouble was, Belacqua's sudden iciness was more than Leia could take on this godforsaken frozen excuse of a planet, and coupled with the blow that Han's attitude was lately, it nettled her more than it should have – and she confronted it.
"Is something wrong?" Leia asked flatly.
The silence that followed was telling in itself, but Belacqua said nothing, her head shifting in a slight, stubborn nod.
"No, Your Highness," she answered – Leia immediately sensed the distaste in her tone, and it made her uncomfortable – what could she possibly have done to Belacqua Tarse, of all people?
Leia sighed, clenching her teeth. She moved forward, setting side her inventory pad, and folded her arms, coming to stand alongside the other woman. Belacqua moved her head, blonde hair hiding her expression, though Leia didn't miss the scowl that knit her brows before she hid it.
"Belacqua, if I've done something to offend you, you may speak freely," she said.
Belacqua said nothing for a moment, and then she looked up, a bit of an incredulous expression on her face.
Leia frowned a little – right; the average person didn't talk like that. The rank and file soldiers didn't have protocols with each other, they didn't need permission to have it out – and Leia could barely find a balance between being a human woman who could relate to others, and being the purely efficient machine she needed to be to survive.
She sighed, and looked away, her jaw tightening.
"I didn't mean to sound condescending," she said quietly.
She took a few step backs, and inclined her head.
"Why don't I just finish up in here?" she said dully.
Belacqua turned back to what she was cataloguing, and shrugged.
"This is my assignment; I'll finish it," she said neutrally.
"You just wish you'd been assigned someone more fun to work with," Leia guessed flatly – because of the risk of cave in on Hoth, assignments were never handed out to individuals, there had to be at least a pair for safety's sake.
She saw Belacqua smile a little, but it faded. She didn't say anything else, and Leia turned away, striding back over to her inventory list – it was frustrating, the invisible wall that seemed to surround her, partially her own doing, partially a thing mandated by circumstance and status.
She rubbed her forehead, her thoughts falling back to Han, ruminating for the hundredth time over what she had done to make him somehow – hostile towards her…but no, it wasn't even hostility, it was pure reluctance to be near her, and she couldn't decipher it –
Belacqua cleared her throat.
"Did you know I'm sleeping with Han Solo?"
Leia stared at the datapad in front of her, the letters blurring together for a moment. She stood still, shocked by the pronouncement – unsure if she was shocked because it was such a wildly personal thing to blurt out without warning, or shocked because – well, the other feelings, she ignored immediately.
She swallowed.
"No," she answered mildly, after a lengthy moment of dead silence.
"I should say was," Belacqua said shortly, "was sleeping with Han Solo."
Exasperated at the absurd conversation, Leia lifted her head slightly, tilting it towards Belacqua without turning around.
"I do not consider Captain Solo's sexual activities my business," she said tightly – fervently hoping that would put an end to – whatever this was.
She heard Belacqua shifting, and guessed she had turned around – Leia felt her dark, violet-ish eyes boring into her back.
"You don't?" she asked, with an air of innocence so pure, it was simultaneously disdainful.
Leia turned around sharply, her expression cool.
"I don't," she agreed.
Belacqua blinked at her, and narrowed her eyes.
"I doubt that's true," she said tensely.
Leia pursed her lips, resisting the urge to shrink back from Belacqua's accusatory stare, and she shook her head curtly, narrowing her own eyes – she was completely taken aback, but years of diplomatic schooling had taught her own to hold her own in those sorts of situations.
"Belacqua," she started simply, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Belacqua turned her nose up, and folded her arms – a gesture of insecurity, Leia immediately noted. The blonde frowned, and then turned back, her face a little suspicious, a little uncertain.
"You're kind of a bitch, aren't you?" Belacqua asked rhetorically.
Leia's lashes flicked tensely, the only sign that she was startled – internally, the word felt like a direct slap to the face, and her throat felt dry.
"I used to think people were really hard on you, really inconsiderate," Belacqua went on. "I mean, you lost your whole home world, didn't you? I didn't think anyone had a right to call you arrogant, or tell you how you should feel about it."
Leia, on the defensive, inclined her head tightly.
"How kind of you," she noted, her tone implying anything of the sort – considering what Belacqua had just called her, she didn't feel obliged to pat the other woman on the shoulder for having once been half-heartedly compassionate.
Belacqua shrugged.
"You're even colder than they say, though. You walk all over people, and you don't get to do that just because you've been hurt."
Leia's expression darkened.
"Lieutenant Tarse, I hold a position of high command on this base, and if you think my authority is a personal affront – "
"I'm not talking about your military command," interrupted Belacqua bravely. "Your professional command is beyond reproach," she said fairly. "I'm talking about the way you treat people."
Belacqua blinked harshly, and pointed at herself.
"Everyone knows I was sleeping with Han," she said, her cheeks turning red. "I don't believe you didn't know about it – which is why it kills me that you chose now to snap your fingers and beckon for him now, all of a sudden, because you can't stand that he hooked up with someone under your nose instead of keeping it off-planet, or pining after you," Belacqua, energized, did not notice the pale, shell-shocked look on Leia's face, "of course, it's not your fault that Solo turned out to be as weak as a kath hound in heat, running after you even though you treat him like scum – it's not like I thought I was going to marry him, I was just having fun, but it's still a low blow - "
"Belacqua," Leia broke in hoarsely, unable to disguise the stress, and discomfort, that riddled both her face and her voice. "What are you talking about?"
Leia swallowed hard, pressing her lips together tightly – she was afraid if she parted them, she might start breathing erratically – she was clearly being accused of something, and she knew, in an instant, that whatever Belacqua was talking about was directly connected to Han's off-putting behavior of late.
Belacqua sneered at her shakily.
"Do me a favor and drop the innocent virgin act."
Leia's lips did part at that, startled – and her cheeks flushed. She took a step back, shifting her eyes from Belacqua's to a place right at Belacqua's shoulder, and then grit her teeth uncomfortably.
"You couldn't stand that he might give up on you, could you? I thought you were just a fucking tease, but you really enjoy torturing him – and who cares who else gets hurt, right?"
Leia stared at her.
"I don't understand," she began.
"You slept with him!" Belacqua snapped, incredulous. "You spend all of this time leading him on and then you slept with him when he was with someone else!"
Leia took a full step back, blinking heavily. The accusation had a strangely fortifying effect, and she narrowed her eyes harshly, her jaw hardening.
"Where did you get that idea?" she asked dangerously. "Did he tell you that?"
Was that why Han didn't want to be around her – he'd run his mouth too far this time, and he was waiting for her to hear about it, dreading what she'd do? He was right to be so evasive if that was it – when she got her hands on him she'd –
"No," Belacqua said, grudgingly, through gritted teeth. "He – no, he didn't, but it's obvious – "
"Obvious?" snapped Leia, provoked. Her face flushed again, and she took a step forward, regaining herself slightly. "In what way?"
She clenched her teeth, bothered by the idea of it, bothered by – so much of what Belacqua was accusing her of.
"I don't – I've never led Captain Solo on. I don't treat him like scum," she defended.
"Ha," retorted Belacqua hoarsely. "This whole kriffin' base knows how he feels about you and you act like it's a big joke – but it'd be a real killshot to your ego, and your power, if he got over it, huh? So now he's done with me, back on you full time."
Panic, and chaos, were rampant in Leia's head – it's not a joke? She asked herself – Han flirted incessantly, he joked about getting her in bed, but that was just Han – she'd been forcing herself to refuse to acknowledge it because she was not going to let herself be made a fool of by thinking any of it was sincere –
Belacqua sniffed, running her hand over her cheek.
"See?" she said unhappily. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
Leia snapped back to the present, swallowing hard. She took a few steps forward, catching Belacqua's eye sharply, holding it.
"Belacqua," she said shortly, pointedly: "I have never been with," she paused for a bare second, because her mind was mocking her – never been with anyone; you're an inexperienced little girl, and he'd never really be interested - and you're a walking nightmare, anyway – "Han Solo," she finished firmly, talking over her own insecurities.
The blonde looked away, biting her lip. She leaned back against the shelf, and placed her hands behind her back, resting them against the shelves as a pillow. The conviction in Leia's glare must have given her some doubts, because she looked back sheepishly, and with all the residual indignation of someone who had been proven wrong, and was embarrassed, and still wanted to fight.
"Yeah, well some of us wanted to be with him," she said shakily, "and I can't believe he's interested in you when all you do is kick him around."
Leia's shoulders sank a little – is that what it looked like to everyone? They all thought she was comporting herself like a haughty queen, delighted to be fawned over, using Han –and anyone else - as an endless ego boost to keep herself above them all?
Her arguments with Han were legendary, their back-and-forth was often viewed as sport – sport the Rogue Squadron was infamous for gambling on – and yes, they got nasty with each other sometimes, but that was only because Han always took it too far – Han was the one who thought it was a joke, and she rebuffed him the way she did because she couldn't afford to lose her control to a contract smuggler –
"Han's my friend," Leia said levelly, working hard to keep her tone even. She straightened her shoulders. "Your perception is entirely flawed. He doesn't have any interest in me romantically."
Belacqua let out a breath of disbelief, staring at Leia with wide, hurt eyes.
"Did the palace private tutors teach you anything useful?" she asked acerbically. She scrunched her nose and shook her head. "It must be a blessing to be that emotionally blind," she said callously, "you must never feel anything at all."
Leia stepped back, her face gone blank. She said nothing – that was a comment that she heard too often, that hit too close to home; it made her want to scream, and tear things to shreds with her bare hands.
She turned her back on Belacqua, disengaging from the conversation completely. The other woman was clearly hurt, insecure – probably Han's fault – and she needed someone to take it out on – and Leia had clarified that there was no disrespect on her part, not in the realm of the cheating or man-stealing, at least.
She heard sniffling behind her, and then Belacqua composed herself.
"Your Highness, if I may be – "
"Go," Leia acquiesced flatly – she sensed the mortification and regret that was assaulting Belacqua with sudden ferocity, and Leia viciously, silently, thanked her aristocratic upbringing for teaching her to never lose control of her emotions in that way, in public.
She watched Belacqua leave, out of the corner of her eye, and then, in an abrupt rush of dark curiosity, looked up, and called her to a stop.
"Belacqua."
She turned, and waited, eyes down, no doubt waiting for a rebuke – even a command to report to a higher officer. Leia looked at her bowed head, and then looked back down herself, tracing her finger on the thin sheen of ice on a table.
"I want to know why you were so certain I slept with Han," she said finally.
She looked up, and waited for Belacqua to do so as well, and to tell her.
Belacqua hesitated. She did lift her head, but she refused to meet Leia's eyes for a moment. She reached up and scrubbed the heels of her hands against her cheeks jerkily, erasing tear tracks, and Leia stood there, patient, expectant.
Belacqua sighed.
"Do you know how humiliating it is to be called some other woman's name in bed?" she asked hoarsely.
She met Leia's eyes only for a second, and then tucked her hair behind her ears and turned quickly, fumbling with the door to get out of the room.
Leia watched her retreat, flinching slightly at the slam of the door – and at the soft, subtle shower of ice that fell from the ceiling at the tremor – and she was unblinking for a moment, unsure what to think of that, trying to interpret the statement.
Realization dawned on her like sunrise, crashed over her like a tidal wave, and she closed her eyes, putting her palm to her neck – she could feel herself blush, feel it in her veins and in her fingertips –
Do you know how humiliating it is to be called some other woman's name in bed?
She didn't, but it was not a stretch to imagine what it probably felt like. If Han had – Belacqua must have thought he was confusing them two of them, a cliché mistake for people who had multiple affairs – Leia and Belacqua shared no common features, though, and thus it registered that Han might have been actively thinking about her –
Leia briefly let herself imagine him saying her name, whispering it, murmuring it – and she opened her eyes tensely, straightening her shoulders. It explained – faintly, she thought, it explained why he was avoiding her; after hearing that, Leia felt anxious at the idea of looking him in the eye, knowing what he was thinking about her, what he wanted from her.
Leia swallowed hard, pressing one hand against her collarbone to steady herself – she had accused Belacqua of having the wrong impression, of perceiving things incorrectly – Han's an irreverent flirt, he's making fun of me, he doesn't care about anyone, and it infuriates me, because it's idiotic to have feelings for him, and I can't take another hit – that's why I – kick him around, treat him like scum? That's what Belacqua had said –
The thing was, it was starting to sound like Han did care, and something was clouding her vision, something like hurt, and fear, and refusal to let her heart be damaged by anything else – willful misinterpretation, even – it sounded like Princess Leia was the one whose perception was entirely flawed.
I've never been of the mind that Leia didn't understand her feelings for Han, more that she felt she absolutely could not take the risk on them - and that manifested itself in whatever way she found most manageable: In this case, she told herself he was making fun of her, and that's it.
-Alexandra
story #314