Video | They don't make posters of my kinda life

[shipmaster]

[It is hard to tell if the person who appears on the network this afternoon is a particularly handsome woman or a strikingly beautiful man. Or what age they are. Or any nice, easy assumption, actually. They lean towards the screen, having watched the network for a few days, picked up what they could. A planetary war, tensions between imPorts, tenuous situations all around. For most people, it would be the time for serious discussions, strategic planning and getting the strongest intel they can.

Bel Thorne puts their chin on their palm, regards the camera a moment before cutting a sharp, curious smile.]

So, what does one do on Earth for fun? I'm taking suggestions.

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[dendarii]

[ He sucks in a sharp breath. Pours himself his third glass of wine. ]

How much do you know about Barrayar? Anything?

[shipmaster]

I can't say I've studied, but I've read a bit.

[dendarii]

Then you've encountered something about their anti-mutation practices, yes?

[shipmaster]

Are we talking the infanticide part or the giving no accommodations or care until the unwanted simply starve to death?

[dendarii]

[ Miles swirls the wine in his glass a bit before taking another long sip. ]

Yes. Both of those things. [ A beat. ] I was never subject to the latter, thankfully, but the former ... My gran'da attempted to murder me multiple times.

[shipmaster]

What?

[dendarii]

[ He's drunk enough that the words come out easily, if bitterly. ]

A few times while I was still in the replicator. A few times after. I only barely remember the very last attempt - I must have been three or four at most.

[shipmaster]

Let me guess, he was never tried or jailed. [Bel knew. They'd read already what the general sentiment is. The Beta Colony had several human rights violation flags all over that particular Empire.]

[dendarii]

[ Miles even recoils at the the thought. ]

Of course not. I wouldn't have wanted that. The old man loved me by the end, dammit, even if he made me work for it.

[shipmaster]

Miles you just casually told me about oh, he was just going to murder me three or four times. But I like him, so it's fine!

[dendarii]

It's complicated! Don't - don't you have someone like that?

[ He takes another angry sip of his wine. ]

[shipmaster]

Someone who would want to murder me a couple of times? Yes. His name is Ryoval.

[dendarii]

[ That sparks a very real flame of anger. ]

My grandfather is not Ryoval. Nowhere close. There's no possible point of comparison.

[shipmaster]

Oh. [Bel says sourly, the anger FOR Miles adding that acid to their tone.] You're right. I take that back. We actually wronged Ryoval. Not alike at all.

[dendarii]

You don't understand. Gran'da - Gran'da was a product of my planet. And he had every damned right to want me dead.

[shipmaster]

[Bel flinches. Not because Miles struck a point. Oh no. Because he struck a damn nerve. They set down the wineglass and lean forward.]

Oh. Would he be right to want me dead, too?

[dendarii]

[ Ow. Miles' turn to flinch, some of the color (and anger) draining from his face. ]

Of fucking course not. Just like he isn't right to wish death on anyone else mutated or disabled or - or anyone who doesn't rise to Barrayar's goddamn standards of what it takes to be a person.

[shipmaster]

[In turn, Bel's feathers smooth a bit. They lean back again, arms folding. Mollified from that edge of anger, at least.]

That does include you too. Even being a product of your planet, yourself.

[dendarii]

[ Miles just shakes his head at that. ]

Different. I'm his heir. The last of the Vorkosigan line, and I'm this shriveled little mutant. If I'd died, my parents could have started over.

[shipmaster]

... Did they want to? [That's a question Bel DIDN'T know the answer to, and could color a lot.]

[dendarii]

[ Miles sags back against the couch. ]

Of course not. They were livid. Soured the relationship for years. And - and if they'd wanted another heir, they'd just need to have a healthy son. Easy.

[shipmaster]

[Bel is quiet a moment. They pick up the glass and take a long sip, thinking, for once, before opening their mouth.]

I'm glad you had that kind of support. It shows in you, you know. The good parts.

[dendarii]

[ Miles goes quiet at that. Shame suffuses his features now, all the anger gone out of him. He drains the last of his third glass. ]

As am I. Desperately glad. [ A pause. ] Did you not have the same?

[shipmaster]

Mines a more modern story, I suppose. Every family has a black sheep, they say.

[They tilt the glass a bit, thoughtfully, before finishing off the last.] There's no one I'm really keen to visit, anyway.