#snippets

Week 7 - Deserters

I was hoping to have ch 4 of my Fireball and Nemec Empire/desertion backstory fic finished in time for this theme, but alas, ch 3 still has a bit to go :')

So for now, I offer a relevant snippet that I'm very excited about (spoiler warning to @ruposa specifically lol <3 )

"are you turned on or something?"

"i think i'm just tired."

--

we also had the idea of 'i'm being engulfed'

weird way of checking out 'little house on the prarie'

before

HAHA sorry 🙈 here’s a little snippet

I've been tagged by my dear mutual @ladysterndust who asked for a snippet from my (Post-) November Uprising AU. Thank you for your ongoing support for this project <3. I've written quite a bit recently. Since there's a lot going on and your encouraging was very helpful, I'll share not one but two snippets :).

First, one of Maedhros' trans awakening reflections:

It was not that Nela – Majdros? – enjoyed the war itself. And yet, despite the constant threat of death, she had never felt more alive. It was as if being a woman was some strange dream she – he? – woke up from. The waking world was scary, but it was real. Majdros was real, somehow, and he never knew he wore a mask his whole life.

And a heavier fragment. CW a POW situation, misogyny, eventual transphobia and sanism, Maedhros being implicitly pushed to speak Russian, and discussion of implicit sexual assault which does NOT take place and is NOT attempted – this is indeed tagged in the fic but happens later, in the mental institution, not at war (and this being done by a Polish doctor actually has a meaning in the plot). Maedhros gets scared of that for a moment here though.

"Stop playing those games with me, Miss Nelfina Majtyma Tiriońska!"

Majdros froze.

He knows.

"How?" he muttered, finally switching to Russian – he had to choose his battles now. "How do you know?"

"Thank you. Now…"

He wanted us to be left alone. He surely has a weapon. I can't even move my hands, he can easily...

Majdros made a step back, and cursed himself for how obvious it must have made his horror.

"No, I assure you, I have no ill intentions," said Poryadin. "I am aware some, even in our army, could... treat a captured woman differently. But I am not one of them."

Majdros eyed the man slowly. Perhaps he was speaking the truth, and he, Majdros, instantly jumped to worst scenarios. Nonetheless... should he really feel so embarassed?

"Forgive my bluntness, colonel, but you had me brought to you handcuffed, then ordered your men to leave us alone and revealed what you know about me. I think I had good reasons to get... concerned."

"I understand. However, I only did this to speak with you one-on-one and deal with the matter quietly. I also have the key to your handcuffs, so if you give me your word to not try to take advantage of that, I may free your hands now."

"The weaker sex still needs restraints then?" Majdros laughed. "No. I cannot promise no resistance."

"Well then, as you wish. Please, sit down at least."

Majdros glared at the colonel.

"You say you're worried about my safety. What's the issue? Right now, it depends largely on your own decisions."

"Oh, I'm sure you understand. A beautiful woman like you, among all of those soldiers… is it not obvious?"

Ah, yes. A beautiful woman to protect. Apparently also by the enemy from her own men. Majdros clenched his fists in the handcuffs.

"Some of them are my friends, others at least respect me as their commanding officer. And I'm a man to them, they don't know my identity."

Except…

"Don't they? It's one of them who revealed it to me."

That bastard.

What was even the point? He definitely didn't like to see himself outranked by – as far as he knew – a woman, but this…

"Chorąży Dujnicki, I presume?" Majdros hissed.

"Do not hold it against him. He thought you might all be executed, and hoped a woman might be treated more mercifully."

What an idiot. Mercy!? He could get me…

"Don't worry. Soldiers die, but you're surely aware women are vulnerable to much worse, to things that should have no place even at war. Information the chorąży provided will help me prevent that from happening to you."

Soldiers and women. Chorąży Dujnicki and Miss Tiriońska. If he didn't know, then even Polish, I'd remain a podporucznik to him.

"Your friend didn't need to worry either," the man continued. "As long as I don't receive different orders, you all will live. But you, Miss Tiriońska, demand a more careful treatment, and must be separated from the rest."

"Excuse me!? If you're so concerned about me, then instead of isolating me, just don't reveal what you know!"

"You will be guarded only by men I can trust. They will not hurt you."

"But—"

"This is not up to discussion. I don’t know if I will not have to have you executed eventually, but I will not allow you being dishonoured."

"This is nonsense, I will not—"

Poryadin ignored his protests.

"Obviously, you will also receive suitable clothing. There is no reason for you to stay in a uniform now. It will be more proper, and dare I say more complimenting, to put on a dress."

"So now, colonel," the last word was filled with fury. "You want to see me in something complimenting?"

"I am not making advances, you misunderstood me."

"I think I understand quite well. You see me as a pretty little girl to put in a dress and lock up."

"Of course not, you're a grown woman. And a grown woman should not act like a spoiled child when someone tries to give her a favour."

"A favour!?"

"Miss Tiriońska, enough. You will stay separated from the men. Do you even care about your virtue? Because you act like you don't. You make me wonder if you even still..."

"How dare you—!"

If Fingon heard this... good he couldn’t, he would not let it pass, and could do something unwise. But it was a strange feeling, to resent the thought of being put in a position of a lady whose repute must be protected and, at the same time, to long for someone to stand up for him in this humiliation.

And it was ridiculous. One thing was to accept a man's – an acknowledged man's – help in the world where he would objectively be able to do more about this, but now, if Fingon was really here, he would be surrounded by enemies just like Majdros.

Fingon. Where was he now? If he, too, was gone, Majdros didn't know if he could keep going. Father. Kelegorm, Karantyr. Fingon...

"And yes, you will put on a dress, as is proper for a woman."

And Majdros lost it.

"I will never be a woman again!" he cried.

Only after those stupid, stupid words, only after seeing the shock on the colonel's face, he understood what he just said.

"I meant… I didn't mean a woman, I meant womanly. Of course I'm a woman, I know that," he forced a laugh. "I just got a little nervous, and Russian is not my mother tongue."

"So far your Russian was flawless, miss. But very well. You can prove what you say by stopping those foolish whims, doing what I tell you, and putting on a dress when it's delivered. I will ask a nurse to measure you, so we can find something that fits."

"No."

Dujnicki is a Polish-style geographical surname I derived from duin, which in Sindarin means a river. Poryadin is a real Russian surname etymologically linked to poryadok, order (as in order of things – the guy believes himself to be guarding the proper order of the world, from suppressing rebellions to upholding cispatriarchy).