#spaceheroics

“You don’t know that,” she murmured to him, eyebrows lightly rising as she peered over in Han’s direction.  She made a point to keep her lips moving as little as possible, so that her whisper came out as a mumble, hoping that if anyone were trying to eavesdrop, they wouldn’t really hear much.   “It’s entirely possible that these people are just... intimidating by nature.   They could be leading us to their leader who wants to talk about something other than imprisoning us for trespassing on their planet.”   She hoped -- she really hoped -- that was the case.   That they meant no harm, that they were just scary looking.    “Why must you immediately go to the very worst conclusion?”

Her boots were heavier than what she was used to wearing,  and honestly she would prefer to be barefoot over wearing shoes to begin with.  Manners.   The princess paced along the cockpit of the ship, behind where Han sat by the controls.  Thankfully they were landed, for now, and as she paced she let out a breath in response to his words.   They were kind,  thoughtful.   And she hated to admit that sometimes the pressure was almost too much for her to handle;  it wasn’t like she could just give up the throne,  the planet.   Who knew what would happen if she did - she couldn’t do that to her people.  Rapunzel ended her pacing, making her way to the empty chair beside Han, arms lightly swaying before she took a seat.   “It’s not all bad.  When you consider the parties and festivities, I mean.  I wouldn’t say it makes up for all of the pressure of ruling an entire planet, but...   well.   It almost helps.”   Her head tilted lightly,  gently,  as she looked over to him.   “But I suppose that all families come with their own pressures.  Their own expectations.  Did yours have any?”

She decided to go ahead with the whoopsie with the knife being an actual, genuine accident.   That the man he’d stabbed,  he didn’t mean to stab.   That it was just a whole big misunderstanding that nobody expected to happen.    She wanted to believe that and,  though it may be foolish,  she decided to believe it.   “That whoopsie with the knife was more like a severe accident that caused somebody to die,” she pointed out.   “Han,  I’m not going to berate you for it.   I’m not going to shame you for killing someone because more than likely,  they wouldn’t have hesitated to kill us.”    They’d had just a handful of experiences of that nature, anyway.   “What I AM going to do is ask you if you’re alright.  Killing someone can’t.....    it can’t be an easy thing to do.”

She couldn’t help the way her eyes softened as she looked at him in the pit of the ship,  sitting next to the controls.  Sitting in the Pilot’s Seat,  and she wondered how long he’d thought this way.  She wondered how long he’d been at war with himself about this purpose,  wondered just want exactly he wished to achieve.   Rapunzel was careful with her steps, not wanting to be too loud as she walked from the doorway to the cockpit over to the co-pilot’s chair.   Gently, she took a seat next to him, keeping her eyes on him softly and tenderly, not wanting to just jump in with her two cents.   She had to go about this carefully;  if there was anything her practice in Royal Life had taught her, it was difficult conversations.   Touchy topics of conversation.  Vulnerability.   “I think that you have a purpose.  A huge purpose, Han,” she started.   “You...     you’re smart.   You have the brains and the ability to charm your way out of most things, and it’s impressive.  You certainly know more about the way the galaxy works and runs than I,  you’re---    quick-witted, and fast and....   and Han, maybe your big purpose isn’t just one single thing.   But a whole bunch of things.”

With a blaster held securely in her grip, green eyes peered over her shoulder as he worked the lock.   Or, at least,  TRIED to work the lock.   She thought that, by now, they would be in through the door and on their way down the hall, closer to the exit.   She couldn’t stop her surprise,  and she couldn’t stop the look that came with it.   Furrowed brow, lips in a small pout.   Eyes not quite soft but not quite hard - more confused than anything else.     Then, she turned to look at him properly, weight leaning to the right side more than the left, head tilting.   “What do you mean picking a lock is hard?”  she asked, trying to blink back the confusion.    She didn’t mean for her voice to come across as harsh,  or hard,  or as a snap  --  but she was confused!   “I thought you were like,  THE MASTER at all of this sneaky-illegal stuff.”   She paused, jaw agape.   “Have you---  have you NEVER picked a lock before?    I’m not judging you for it but I kind’ve just assumed that you would have picked AT LEAST,  like....    three.”