sunchime | ☆ the vorkosigan saga psl post, volume 3

Perhaps it's not a matter of lying. Perhaps it's simply a matter of - hm - timing.

[ He lifts his eyebrows at her. ]

Perhaps now seems like a better time for it than back then did. Is that so impossible?

[ shock joins fury and hurt on hurt face, and she's tempted to hit him again. her shoulder jerks, but she keeps her arm at her side, just spitting out the words. ]

How? How is this a better time, Byerly? [ her eyes bore into him, waiting, watching. she still doesn't know what to believe. that hurts, too. ] I want to hear you say it.

How is it better?

[ I want you shocked and hurting and hating. I want you to hit me again. ]

Isn't it nicer here? None of the pressures of Barrayar. No consequences for you, no consequences for me...In this camp, you're not a princess, and I not a lowly cad unworthy of touching you. Isn't that attractive?

[ her mouth opens, her throat works, but she can hardly bring herself to repeat anything he's just said, even if just in shock and fury. there's too much to unpack. she feels sick. feels sick for ever having wanted him. feels sick for the brief, flickering moment of hope she'd swallowed when he walked in through that door. deluded fantasies of rescue and picking up where they'd left off, somehow. those hadn't lasted long.

all of it shows on her face. she hardly knows how to control it. she realizes she's crying again and struggles to stop. ]

I have no more agency here than I did before. [ god, that's a weak return, too. she hates him for making her fumble like this. she feels frozen in place, but god, she wants another excuse to hit him so badly. ] Go on. I dare you to try it. See what happens.

[ Even as a self-loathing mockery, even in a simulacrum of vileness, he can't bring himself to do it. He can't bring himself even to mimic it. The thought of her afraid is too much for him to be able to bear. Hell, he can barely even cope with the knowledge he's caused her sadness. No: he wants her furious, livid, not...

He shrugs, casual as anything, and looks away. ]

No, thanks. I'm not about to force myself on you. [ Then, with a mocking little bow - ] That's a little bit too typically Vorish for my tastes. I consider myself something of a separate breed, after all.

[ something burns in her at his refusal -- she can't even tell what -- and her expression shifts, eyes lidded but burning. she's shaking, she knows she is, but not out of fear. just barely contained anger that she doesn't know what to do about. hurt she's endured -- but no one has ever made her so angry. ]

I didn't know cowards had a pedigree. [ it comes out as a hiss, and she steps closer, taking ground where he could have but didn't. she wants so badly to hit him again, but the part of her that shies away from violence cries out in protest. give me a reason. give me something.

she's never been in a fight in her life. not a one-on-one all-out brawl. she knows she couldn't possibly overpower byerly, but the tears that spring to her eyes now are just angry. ]

Tell me something. That night in Riverfall, when you held me -- had you already made your decision then? Or did some fanciful flight of cowardice strike you later? I know you're going to lie to me. I just want to see what lie you use.

Dear girl, if this were mere cowardice, don't you think I'd have run away from the war altogether? Not gone to the other side.

[ He sighs, then, like it's some grand trial, speaking about this. He wonders what would happen if he went to her and took her in his arms and dashed the tears from her eyes. If he kissed her face and apologized. Whispered an explanation in her ear...But no. He can't. It's the last thing he can do. They have listening devices in here, they have arms, they're just waiting for him to trip up...His position with the Cetagandans is worth far more than her heart. Than both of their hearts. ]

But no. It was actually that night that made me make my decision, truth be told.

This is your only safe haven.

[ she says it scathingly, because she resents him even more every time he calls her that. and where else would he go, truly? but she still feels sick, even knowing that this is likely all just a lie. an elaborate one that doesn't matter in the end, because the results are the same. she tries to control the fractional widening of her eyes, the catch in her breath, tries to keep her voice steady, if not steely. ]

Oh?

Quite so.

[ He pushes his hands into his pockets. ]

I started thinking about the sort of Barrayar that would be better to live in. And I realized - it's not the one with the Vor in charge. It never has been.

[ of all the lies she was expecting, this wasn't it -- and is it a lie? she staggers back as if he'd hit her, shock all over her face again, and this time there's a streak of desperation in it, that all she's lived through these last ten years must somehow mean nothing.

and miles -- had miles lied to her, too? that thought is almost too much to bear.

this time she doesn't think. it just happens, and a raw cry tears unbidden out of her throat as she backhands him, hard, the same place she'd struck before. ]

[ He's quite unprepared for that blow. It staggers him again, but this time he bites down hard on his tongue. When he raises his hand to his lips after it comes back bloody. He lifts his fingers to her, showing her, like it's proof of something. Then he drops his hand again. ]

Too much truth, perhaps? You know that's the case. We as a class of people are vile.

[ the slick of blood on his fingers makes her even sicker, but she doesn't raise a hand to cover her mouth, won't give him the satisfaction. she is livid now, her eyes burning with it, hard enough to sting. ]

And these people -- these people who have forced us from our homes, given us no terms but unconditional surrender, raped and murdered us -- these people are better for Barrayar? Tell me how!

[ she doesn't mean to (except, in some small part of her, she does) but she hits him again, striking the other side of his face as tears drip down her cheeks. what she can't admit to herself -- and cannot admit to him -- is that it feels good to hit him. that hurts too, somehow. ]

[ It feels good to be hit. Every single blow is satisfying to his soul, somehow. He wants more, more brutally, more harshly, more ferociously. Wants her to hit him three times as hard four times as much. He leans almost lovingly into this latest slap. ]

Sonia, there has been no greater murderer - no greater abuser, murderer - of Barrayarans than Barrayarans. The Cetagandans are to us as a cold is to the plague.

[ she's too angry to notice how he leans into it this time, too angry at the vile words coming out of his mouth. she's too seized with anger to think of anything but hitting him in the face again, nothing more creative -- she's too angry to think, and so her own words feel small in her mouth. ]

You idiot -- [ not strong enough -- ] You fucking idiot -- you think you're so enlightened, but you're just as bad as the rest of them! Just as narrow-minded. [ her eyes narrow to slits, her teeth clenched as her voice begins to waver. ] You're so much more disgustingly Vor than you'll ever admit to yourself.

Edited 2017-03-03 21:52 (UTC)

And how is that?

[ His voice grows rougher. Needier. He wants the abuse desperately, like a man consumed with lust. ]

Go on, tell me. How am I Vor?

[ there's something alarming about this, something off, but sonia's too worked up to care, to notice. every blow just proves piotr and olivia right -- that this wasn't something she could have even remotely handled had she known. ]

This self-absorbed, more enlightened-than-thou horseshit --

[ god, she never curses like this. never used to curse like this. this time, she doesn't hit him in the face -- seized with some violent inspiration, she grabs him by the hair and hauls him down low enough for her to drive one knee into her stomach. not a move she ever learned in self-defense classes, no -- but tucker's been teaching her a few things about fighting, much though she hates it, and he's much better at it than anyone in this room. sonia doesn't let go of his hair, her words hissing, angry and hurt, but her voice starts to rise and grow raw. ]

You are the worst kind of Vor. The worst of them all. All you care about is your own security, your own comfort -- you don't care what happens to the rest of Barrayar as long as you get to linger in luxury and look down your noses at the proles. What do you think is going to happen if the Cetagandans win? Do you think they'll treat us any differently than you do the proles?

[ That blow hurts. It drives the air from him, too, so that he's left gasping, unable to retort even if he had some good comeback. He just gasps a little, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, hunched over with her hands in his hair.

Go on. ]

[ sonia can't untangle the sick satisfaction from the way her mind recoils at all of this. she's breathing heavily, carried away, a part of her unlocked she didn't even know was there. maybe she really is more like her than she gives herself credit for. ]

You fancy yourself a coward. I know you do. But you're not a coward, Byerly. You are just a very short-sighted man. [ her own eyes are still stinging with tears, but she doesn't even notice them. ] Tell me -- if I had told you I loved you that night, what would you have done? I want to hear which lie you'll choose this time.

What would I have done?

[ His voice is thin and reedy. He presses a hand to his stomach and straightens up. ]

What answer do you want? I would have been swayed and tried to bring you with me. And at that time, your impassioned pleas for courage would have rung in my ears and I'd have been moved. I'd have stayed. We'd have been heroes of our time together, a princess and her gallant servant. Something along those lines? Something from a storybook?

[ that dismissal -- that condescension -- that sparks fresh and hurt, and another raw sound tears itself out of her throat. her face is red and tear-stained now, hair caught wet on her cheeks. byerly moves and she moves with him, thrusting her palm out to his chest. his solar plexus, actually. just like tucker had taught her. her eyes grows fiercer. ]

There isn't a word for what you are, Byerly.

[ she thrusts her chin up, eyes blazing. ]

What do you think is going to happen when you leave this room? You know I don't know anything. The Cetagandans know I don't know anything. Why is it that they've kept me alive? Why do you think they kept me alive? What do you think they're going to do to me after you leave this room?

[ because she knows that even the most nightmarish of stores in the war have at least a seed of truth. ]

[ He coughs, doubling over when she strikes him again. His breath rattles in - and then he takes her meaning. He grimaces, shakes his head. There's no mockery, no irony, when he says: ]

You're a hostage. That's it.

[ the fact that mockery is suddenly gone is nauseating and unsettling, but it doesn't weaken her point. she just stares at him, glares. ]

So they're letting their new lapdog privy to their plans now? You haven't been in this war very long, Byerly. They're always hostages, that's it. [ somewhere in there she'd cooled down for just a moment, but her teeth clench again, eyes burning. she wants to him again and she hates it, but her disgust is purely directed at him. ] Had this really not occurred to you when they took me, fast-penta'd me, and threw me in a holding cell without ransom? God, you really are shortsighted.

[ He makes himself look away, then, shrug in unconcern. ]

Well, so be it. You clearly have no love left for me; if we're through, I suppose we're through. I won't waste time worrying.

[ that -- that banishes everything away but the anger, because she thought that maybe, in the tiniest way, he might hold some sentiment to her, even if in the cruelest way. this is a far worse blow than cruelty. ]

This isn't about you!

[ she's stopped thinking, just full-on body checks him in frustration and fury. ]

Ugh -

[ He falls back and to the side. Instinctively, he grabs for her shoulder to steady himself, and in the process drags her down too. He realizes what he's doing as she starts to fall, and he twists awkwardly, desperately, so that he'll fall first and she'll land on top of him. Bony as he is, it's not the most comfortable landing, but it's better than the hard floor, at least. ]

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