[Stargate: Drabble] "Women's Work" [SG-22, G]
Title: Women’s Work
Prompt: writerverse challenge #36 phase amnesty, challenge #13 TV tropes
Trope Used:Stay in the Kitchen
Word Count: 925
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate SG-1 ( SG-22, original characters)
Summary: When SG-22 gets captured, Gryff is sent to the kitchen.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Women's Work
Gryff woke with a pounding headache, and a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Easy now, lass,” said a woman’s voice. “You’ve taken quite a knock.”
Groaning, Gryff sat up anyway, putting a hand to her face and feeling the puffiness around her left eye. “Bet I’ve got a pretty good shiner, huh?”
The woman frowned at her. She was maybe ten years older than Gryff, with curly graying hair and a dirty homespun dress. “Shiner?”
“Black eye,” Gryff explained. She swung her legs over the side of the cot, experimentally, and when the world stayed upright, she got to her feet. “I’m Gryff. And you are…?”
“I am called Hilde,” said the woman. “Please, you have been injured…”
“I’ll be fine,” Gryff insisted. “Where am I? Where are my men?”
“You are in the castle of King Haakon. Your men… do you mean the enemy soldiers, in the green clothing, like yours?”
“That’s them. Where are they?”
“In the dungeons,” said Hilde.
“Then why am I not with them?” Gryff asked.
The other woman laughed. “You are not a soldier!” she said, as though the mere thought were ridiculous.
“Right, what was I thinking?”
Hilde gave her a strange look. “You should rest. You are badly injured, and you need to heal.”
“I’ve had much worse,” said Gryff. “How about you show me around, instead?”
‘Around’ turned out to be the bare stone living quarters where Gryff had woken up, an herb garden with high stone walls, and a large kitchen. “There is also the banquet hall,” Hilde added, “where we serve at meals. Anywhere else is forbidden to us.”
“That’s just great,” said Gryff. She tugged at the collar of the homespun dress they’d found for her- it didn’t exactly go with her combat boots, but she’d refused to give those up- and it kind of itched. “I should warn you ladies, I’m a terrible cook.”
“What?” said the dozen-or-so other kitchen maids, almost in unison.
Gryff was sent to scrub dishes, and she immediately abused the position to subtly interrogate the rest of the women . By the time the breakfast dishes were clean and they were ready to start preparing the feast, she had learned that the castle had about thirty guards, that the outer defenses meant that all of them would be present at the feast that night, and that the rest of her teammates would have their fates decided as the night’s entertainment.
“Okay, look,” Gryff said, taking a huge copper pot away from a girl who was barely more than a teenager and struggling under its weight. “None of you want to work here, do you?”
There was a moment of silence, then Hilde said, “No, we don’t.” She planted her fists on her hips and glared around the kitchen. “Haakon’s father, we served with honor. But he has made us prisoners, taken our husbands and sons for his army. We would leave if we could.”
“Okay,” Gryff said again. “Now, what kind of herbs are growing in that garden of yours…?”
Gryff carried the largest dish out into the banquet hall and set it on the long table. The man at its head was heavier-set than she would have expected, wearing furs and a golden crown.
“Ah, the foreign wench,” he said, catching her arm. Gryff watched the other women set their dishes on the table, and the men begin eating. “See, your protectors cannot protect you now.”
Toby, Jason and Levi were held to the far wall of the chamber, with old-fashioned iron manacles. They all looked a little worse for the wear, Jason especially, but they were all standing under their own power, and that was a good start.
“Your Majesty,” said Gryff, with a slow smile. “That’s where you’re wrong. They’re not my protectors, I’m their commanding officer.”
“Ha!” he laughed. “A female commander.”
“Yeah, crazy, right?” Gryff deadpanned. “You don’t have a real high opinion of us females, do you?”
Haakon snorted. “You are excellent cooks,” he said, around a large mouthful.
Gryff caught Toby’s eye- she winked, and he nodded.
“Yes, they are,” Gryff agreed, and turned back to the king. “But do you know what those ladies have, back there in the kitchen? Knives, and poisons.”
Haakon was instantly on his feet. “Poison-” he spat, just as the first of his men stumbled from the table to lose the contents of his stomach on the floor. Soon, all of them were heaving, until they began collapsing, lying together in miserable-looking bunches on the floor.
Gryff pulled a kitchen knife from the waistband of her dress and pointed at the king. “Your sword, sir,” she demanded, with her most polite smile. “And the keys to free my men.”
Scowling, Haakon handed them both over, and Gryff passed the keys to Hilde, who released the rest of her team.
“Wench,” growled the king, scowl deepening as Gryff kept smiling. “You shall regret the day that you-” He broke off, suddenly turning green, and raced from the room.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” said Hilde, as Toby and Jason made to go after him. “He got twice as much of the sickening herbs as his men.”
Gryff laughed. “Smart.” She glanced around at the other former-kitchen workers, all now armed with knives, and swords taken from the stricken guards. “I think we’ve got this, guys. Jase, Levi, head back to the ‘gate, see if the general can’t send us a couple more teams to clean up this mess.”
Jason grinned and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
THE END
Current Mood:
grumpy
Prompt: writerverse challenge #36 phase amnesty, challenge #13 TV tropes
Trope Used:Stay in the Kitchen
Word Count: 925
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate SG-1 ( SG-22, original characters)
Summary: When SG-22 gets captured, Gryff is sent to the kitchen.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Women's Work
Gryff woke with a pounding headache, and a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Easy now, lass,” said a woman’s voice. “You’ve taken quite a knock.”
Groaning, Gryff sat up anyway, putting a hand to her face and feeling the puffiness around her left eye. “Bet I’ve got a pretty good shiner, huh?”
The woman frowned at her. She was maybe ten years older than Gryff, with curly graying hair and a dirty homespun dress. “Shiner?”
“Black eye,” Gryff explained. She swung her legs over the side of the cot, experimentally, and when the world stayed upright, she got to her feet. “I’m Gryff. And you are…?”
“I am called Hilde,” said the woman. “Please, you have been injured…”
“I’ll be fine,” Gryff insisted. “Where am I? Where are my men?”
“You are in the castle of King Haakon. Your men… do you mean the enemy soldiers, in the green clothing, like yours?”
“That’s them. Where are they?”
“In the dungeons,” said Hilde.
“Then why am I not with them?” Gryff asked.
The other woman laughed. “You are not a soldier!” she said, as though the mere thought were ridiculous.
“Right, what was I thinking?”
Hilde gave her a strange look. “You should rest. You are badly injured, and you need to heal.”
“I’ve had much worse,” said Gryff. “How about you show me around, instead?”
‘Around’ turned out to be the bare stone living quarters where Gryff had woken up, an herb garden with high stone walls, and a large kitchen. “There is also the banquet hall,” Hilde added, “where we serve at meals. Anywhere else is forbidden to us.”
“That’s just great,” said Gryff. She tugged at the collar of the homespun dress they’d found for her- it didn’t exactly go with her combat boots, but she’d refused to give those up- and it kind of itched. “I should warn you ladies, I’m a terrible cook.”
“What?” said the dozen-or-so other kitchen maids, almost in unison.
Gryff was sent to scrub dishes, and she immediately abused the position to subtly interrogate the rest of the women . By the time the breakfast dishes were clean and they were ready to start preparing the feast, she had learned that the castle had about thirty guards, that the outer defenses meant that all of them would be present at the feast that night, and that the rest of her teammates would have their fates decided as the night’s entertainment.
“Okay, look,” Gryff said, taking a huge copper pot away from a girl who was barely more than a teenager and struggling under its weight. “None of you want to work here, do you?”
There was a moment of silence, then Hilde said, “No, we don’t.” She planted her fists on her hips and glared around the kitchen. “Haakon’s father, we served with honor. But he has made us prisoners, taken our husbands and sons for his army. We would leave if we could.”
“Okay,” Gryff said again. “Now, what kind of herbs are growing in that garden of yours…?”
Gryff carried the largest dish out into the banquet hall and set it on the long table. The man at its head was heavier-set than she would have expected, wearing furs and a golden crown.
“Ah, the foreign wench,” he said, catching her arm. Gryff watched the other women set their dishes on the table, and the men begin eating. “See, your protectors cannot protect you now.”
Toby, Jason and Levi were held to the far wall of the chamber, with old-fashioned iron manacles. They all looked a little worse for the wear, Jason especially, but they were all standing under their own power, and that was a good start.
“Your Majesty,” said Gryff, with a slow smile. “That’s where you’re wrong. They’re not my protectors, I’m their commanding officer.”
“Ha!” he laughed. “A female commander.”
“Yeah, crazy, right?” Gryff deadpanned. “You don’t have a real high opinion of us females, do you?”
Haakon snorted. “You are excellent cooks,” he said, around a large mouthful.
Gryff caught Toby’s eye- she winked, and he nodded.
“Yes, they are,” Gryff agreed, and turned back to the king. “But do you know what those ladies have, back there in the kitchen? Knives, and poisons.”
Haakon was instantly on his feet. “Poison-” he spat, just as the first of his men stumbled from the table to lose the contents of his stomach on the floor. Soon, all of them were heaving, until they began collapsing, lying together in miserable-looking bunches on the floor.
Gryff pulled a kitchen knife from the waistband of her dress and pointed at the king. “Your sword, sir,” she demanded, with her most polite smile. “And the keys to free my men.”
Scowling, Haakon handed them both over, and Gryff passed the keys to Hilde, who released the rest of her team.
“Wench,” growled the king, scowl deepening as Gryff kept smiling. “You shall regret the day that you-” He broke off, suddenly turning green, and raced from the room.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” said Hilde, as Toby and Jason made to go after him. “He got twice as much of the sickening herbs as his men.”
Gryff laughed. “Smart.” She glanced around at the other former-kitchen workers, all now armed with knives, and swords taken from the stricken guards. “I think we’ve got this, guys. Jase, Levi, head back to the ‘gate, see if the general can’t send us a couple more teams to clean up this mess.”
Jason grinned and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
THE END
Current Mood:
grumpy