Twi'leks & Chiss

I mean, just as an example to start with: we’re given the impression at various times that he dislikes slavery and see slavers as immoral, and yet when he and Eli discover that the Empire is trafficking Wookiee slaves, he’s able to put that aside in favour of treating them as “imperial assets” who “must be treated as such”.

That ability to compartmentalise his own morals and resolve cognitive dissonance is (I would argue) key to understanding how he can be a card-carrying, uniform-wearing fascist without actually being an ideological fascist himself. Like, he’s certainly a militarist, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not a political authoritarian the way that someone like Anakin “if it works it works” Skywalker is — even though he’s manipulative and controlling on an interpersonal level, those behaviours are utilitarian and limited in scale. And crucially, they don’t seem to be reflected in a belief in autocracy or the inherent necessity of forced social homogeneity. Instead, in both the books and in Rebels, we see multiple occasions of him displaying respect and reverence for cultural diversity (see: *hiss* “i forget that not everyone appreciates art as i do”), which is actually fundamentally antifascist.

Circling back around to what I said earlier about loyalty, I’m starting to think that perhaps that’s the crux of his whole issue.

Because if you think about Thrawn as a classical tragic character, his whole deal starts to make a lot more sense. He cycles through these arcs of stability, then peripeteia (reversal of fortunes), and then downfall. It happens to him in the Ascendancy, it happens to him in the Empire. And it’s always with this sense of the results having been predetermined by either his own nature or by narrative necessity. The Bendu literally prophesies his defeat!! That’s some Oedipus Rex shit.

So if we can think about him as a tragic hero (which is not the same as a hero in the “good guy” sense — the aforementioned Oedipus was very much a questionable dude, as are most classical tragic protagonists) we’re led to the question that lies at the heart of all such characters: their hamartia, their fatal flaw. What is it about them that makes their fate inevitable?

I think that for Thrawn, his fatal flaw is loyalty. He is a man uniquely capable of boxing up everything that he is and wants for the sake of serving a cause, and remaining resolute no matter where that cause leads him. He’s indefatigable — he doesn’t stop, not if his intellect reveals any viable path to success, even if that path cuts narrowly through the absolute depths of depravity. He has very little by way of a life outside of the military, and what little he has he willingly sets aside in order to submit himself completely and utterly to the mission of serving the Ascendancy and the Empire by proxy. And because he sees that cause as more important than his own personal morals, he permits immorality as a means to that end!. He is not more important than the success of that goal, so his moral preferences cannot be either!

And we can extend it outward!! Why is he so blind to politics? Because he struggles to understand actions which are self interested, rather than motivated by loyalty or duty. Why does he manipulate and mistreat Eli, but also care for and uplift him? Because at the beginning of their relationship, Eli’s autonomy was mutually exclusive with the needs of Thrawn’s mission. But as he starts to feel a degree of loyalty to Eli himself, he prioritises finding ways to support him that are compatible with his duty.

And finally, why why why does he get so completely lost in the shits with the Empire after he sends Eli away?? Because without any strong personal relationship where he can express his own thoughts, beliefs or personality as an individual separate from his duty; he hollows out. There’s nothing to fill his mind or motivate his actions other than the pursuit of success. Because he is now without allies, his mission has never mattered more, and because he is deeply alone, he has never mattered less.

Oh brave you. 

Oh warrior you. 

He feels so grateful for you giving birth to your baby. He held your hand during the entire process, hugging your shoulders as you pushed hard, losing your blood and your sanity in the pain. But you persevered and delivered your newborn despite all the complications due to you two being different species. 

Right now your baby is between the hands of the medics, leaving you two to breathe and trying to relax. You didn't even have time to take your newborn in your arms, the medics immediately took them. 

You both knew the risks of having a hybrid baby, but you both hoped to have at least the time to take a look at them before they got taken away. But their health signals ordered the medics to put them in urgent care immediately. 

So Thrawn spent the last three hours with you, trying to ease your worries and looking over you napping. Your labor was so intense and painful tiredness took precedence over your fear and you ended up sleeping, too exhausted after such a trial. 

He looks at you, full of love and admiration. Since Bridger captured the Chimaera to bring her to Peridea, morphine stocks are rare and sparse. He wished he could have given you some but you refused when the droid proposed it. You refused to have the comfort of painkillers when they could be used to mend the wounds of your troops on the battlefield. He tried to convince you that you had the right, days before labor started but you were adamant! You wanted to set an example as his wife and Commander. 

You chose the way of pain to give life to the most perfect being in the Universe, the love of his life, the light of his days. And for that his gratitude is infinite. 

“Grand Admiral?” The careful voice of his head doctor raises in his back, snatching him off his contemplation of your sleeping form, “We just finished. Do you wish to see them?” 

Thrawns contemplates them up and down in silence before leaning forward, gently kissing your forehead. He pulls the cover over you and straightens his back before turning towards his medic. 

“Lead the way.” He placidly responds. 

After three long hours of uncertainty, the doctor appears a bit unsure but nothing in their demeanor indicates any high-stress level, Thrawn concludes that whatever medical procedures your baby needed, they have been able to deliver. 

As they silently walk Thrawn’s mind starts asking…weird questions. 

Was it painful for the baby ? 

Did they feel scared ? 

Did they cry for their mother, powerless as they were manipulated by strangers ? 

Did they feel cold at any moment ? 

Did they try to reach for any of you two with their little hands only to meet the void ? 

“Here we are, Grand Admiral.” 

Thrawn stops before the door… terrified. What if… the medics failed ? He doesn't read any bodily signs typical of tension in them but is he himself in the right mindset to read them after such a hard birth and pregnancy ?  

“How are they ?” He demands, imperial, never letting any doubts or fear slip through in his demeanor as he knows so well. 

He internally prays to have read them correctly. The head medic looks at him, their lips in a thin line, searching for their words. 

“Authorization to speak freely ?” 

Thrawn nods, his expression closed off and unreadable. 

“It wasn't pretty. To be frank, your baby is a miracle survivor, we are not equipped properly for babies’ care and health monitoring, but I also notified you of the risks of giving birth to a hybrid.” 

Thrawn ever so slightly squints, a subtle threat and call to order. The doctor decides to cut the story short. 

“You are incredibly lucky Grand Admiral, truly. I don't know if we would be able to repeat this feat for a second baby, especially stranded on this wretched planet.” the doc extends his hand towards the open room  “They are sleeping.” 

Thrawn considers the open door and wonders for a second if he has the strength to walk into the room before getting a grip. 

Of course, none of his turmoil is visible, and his hesitation lasts less than a second. He walks into the little room, a former waiting area reconverted into a nursery. 

It’s not perfect, no battleships ever saw a nursery before. They had to do with what they had to accommodate new life on Peridea. He advances towards the bassinet, perceiving the heat signals through the material. 

He, oh so slowly, approaches the little form lying under a blanket. He feels like his heart is going to explode under the pressure.  

They are blue ! 

Just like him. 

But they have your hair color and your nose The cheekbones and forehead bumps are unmistakably his.  

He leans forward to observe better. 

He never witnessed such… perfection before. This is simply the most beautiful being to ever exist in the cosmos. The perfect mix of their father and mother. 

His heart bleeds at the nodes of the different monitors over their body and the tubes through their little nose, but it must be down to unsure their survival. 

“They are stable now, but they will need to remain for some time.” The medic explains, coming behind their Grand Admiral. 

Thrawn tilts his head, his eyes never leaving the baby, looking at them moving in their sleep, eyes closed shut. Inadvertently, he feels his hands clasped behind his back starting to tremble. He isn’t even touching them but he fears to hurt them in any way. 

They are just so small. 

And him so big... 

What if he causes pain to his baby by trying to hold them? What if he hurt them more than they are already wounded? He could never forgive himself. Maybe it is better if he abstains from any physical contact. 

Yes. 

That is for the best. 

“What gender are they?” He asks without lifting his gaze from this absolute perfection. 

“It is a brave little girl.” The medic explains, a small voice audible in their voice, “My congratulations, Grand Admiral.” 

His heart skips a beat. 

A little girl? 

Just as he so dear hoped. He always desired a daughter. You were neutral on the question but he knew deep down that he was meant to father a little girl. 

And there she is! 

His little warrior... 

“A daughter...” He repeats like he has difficulties realizing his chance. 

The baby seems to react and agitate herself in the incubator. 

“She recognizes your voice. You should try and hold her, she needs comfort after this... trial.” The medic explains. 

Thrawn smiles, his expression hidden from the doctor. She recognizes his voice... 

The voice of her father. 

He spent so much time talking to your bump during those seven months of pregnancy, in hopes the baby would be able to recognize him and associate him with safety and comfort. 

His heart clenches knowing he succeeded. 

He tentatively enters the incubator with his large hand and very delicately caresses his daughter’s cheek with his knuckle. 

She is so warm. 

Like a Chiss. 

She seems to yawn and tries to seize his large finger in her tiny fist, desperately longing for some warmth too. His hands travel to her tummy and gently brush it. 

Warrior... She is so small compared to him, that he feels he could crush her in his fist. That thought distraught him so terribly that he stops his caress, much to his daughter’s dismay who lets out a whine escape her. 

“Take her in your arms. The first hours are important for a baby’s general well-being.” 

“Leave us alone, please.” Thrawn orders nonchalantly, hiding his worries from view. 

Once the medic leaves, he carries a chair closer to the crib and gets rid of his white jacket and black tank shirt to very tenderly seize his daughter. He takes care of holding her fragile head correctly and supporting her body, not pulling off the nodes of the monitors, and sits down on the chair, pressing his baby girl against his warm Chiss skin, in a soothing skin-to-skin contact. 

Maker she is so light and fragile... He suddenly feels so terribly clumsy with such a precious package in his hands. 

She babbles in her sleep, agitating herself in his hands. She holds her tight to not risk dropping her, pressing her soft precious body against his beating heart.  

It feels good. 

It feels right. 

He instantly feels a new connection forming between himself and his baby. She seems to try and get a grip on him, to hold him close, to keep the warmth source against her sensitive baby skin. 

“Hello, little one.” He speaks softly with his deep melodious voice. 

A sound that seems to please her immensely because she seems to try to smile despite all her tubes. He delicately cradles her. 

“You scared us immensely, you know? But here you are, at last... My baby.” 

Thrawn isn’t a man prone to sentimentalism, but in the intimacy of the hug, he can’t help himself. He needs to whisper sweet nothing to his baby, deepening the connection further. 

“You are already so loved, little one. We dreamed for your arrival for years. Ch’eo k’eten, ch’eo euhn ch'etecerci.”  

The baby presses her cheek against his peck, letting herself sooth by her father’s heartbeat. She appears so appeased right now, sleeping soundly in his arms. At her true place. 

“My pride, my jewel...” 

He gently lifts her higher for her little head to rest in the crook of his neck, inhaling her scent. It is pleasant and relaxing, almost familiar like a song he had known for years. 

He sighs. 

Soon his shift will resume. And he will have to leave you both behind in the med bay to ensure the Chimaera’s safety. 

But for now, he will indulge as much as he can. He also hopes to be present for your first meeting with her, he longs to see your elated expression when he will bring your your firstborn. 

“Welcome to the world, little Thashao. I vow to protect you from any harm, my sweet, my treasure...”