Author: Devi (mathura108@yahoo.de)

Rating: PG

Characters: Armand Isard, Ysanne Isard

Category: drama, POV

Summary: While waiting for his execution, Armand Isard receives a
visit from his daughter.

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Iceheart (or anything Star Wars, for
that matter), but since her Daddy (Stackpole, that is) has neglected
her for so long, I've decided to adopt her ;-) for my own fun and the
fun of other fans. No money is being made out of this, no
infringement intended.

Archive: Yes, please.

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"Isard? You have a visitor."

*Isard.* Not "*Director* Isard" anymore, of course not. I'm a
disgraced men, sitting in a cell, waiting to be executed for high
treason.

*You have a visitor.* I guessed correctly who it would be even before
she walked through the door of my cell. Just like I have a good guess
who framed me. And I can't even blame her for it. After all, the urge
to save one's own skin is part of human nature.

But then, with my Ysanne, that shrewd, icy being, I'm not that sure
whether she's still human.

There she is, standing steel-spined straight as always, her poise
radiating energy and elegance and hardness. I wonder whether she
still remembers how I used to tell her, "Don't slump. Don't be
ashamed that you're tall." Nowadays, Ysanne is not ashamed for much.

I wonder why she has come. I doubt that it's absolution she seeks, my
girl is not afraid of guilt. In fact, she's always been too proud to
be afraid of anything. Except for the Emperor – he can still make her
sick with fear if he likes to.

She looks at me without a word, without even her face telling me
anything. I wonder whether she expects me to speak to her first. But
probably, she doesn't think I have the right to. I'm just a condemned
man.

So I merely return her gaze that tells me nothing, until she finally
says, "I've been made the new Internal Security Director. I
thought you would like to know."

That's what she's come here for. To tell me that she has taken my
place. That was to be expected, wasn't it? The winner takes it all.

So, she's following in her daddy's footsteps. Does she expect me to
be proud of her? In a strange way, I actually am.

There she is, my grown-up girl who has come into her own. Proud,
smart, determined, ice-cold Ysanne; she doesn't owe me much these
days; and I wouldn't be surprised if she knew that. No doubt she will
serve the Emperor well.

I give her no reply, no even when we reach a point where I'm almost
sure that my silence annoys her. Not that my Ysanne would ever allow
herself the weakness of admitting to being annoyed. That would be too
petty for her. Even her anger is as cold as ice.

And besides, I don't care whether I annoy her. I will be executed
anyhow, she can't do any more to me than she already has. So I remain
silent until she turns to walk out the door, turns so that I can see
only one of her eyes, the one that's the color of glowing embers and
freshly spilled blood.

Only then do I speak.

"Ysanne?"

She turns back and looks at me. Her gaze is steel and glacier and
blood, this being that I've raised and that I don't understand. I'm
almost surprised that I find enough of my voice for the next broken
word –

"Why?"

She says it under her breath, it is only for our ears.

"You taught me, father."

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