Merry Christmas, Serazi~
Getting these prompts was almost like Christmas came early for me. I had such a hard time deciding which one to do (SO EXPECT MORE IN DA FUTURE!), but eventually settled on The Joy and The Sorrow. I hope you enjoy this!
Title: On The Eve of Battle
Pairing: The Joy/The Sorrow
Rating: PG for vague hints of sexual content.
Summary: On the eve before D-Day, The Sorrow reflects upon his commander. (Prompt was as follows: The Joy(The Boss)/The Sorrow - while the Sorrow's still with the cobra unit. Doing a mission together or time off alone in between, I don't mind)
Radost. It is our word for Joy. But you… you are more than words can say. You’re beautiful and strong. It makes me weep. Weep for the tomorrows we will never have. What have we done, Joy? We were never meant to be like this. You are my commander. How can we even begin to explain this?
I see your hand on mine. I feel your arms around me, strong and secure. I see your skin in the pale moonlight, and I weep. We should never have met. We are soldiers, and only death awaits us. I have spoken with the dead, and they know this all too well. As do I.
Sorrow and Joy… The universe has a wonderful sense of humor to grant us to each other. A wonderful, monstrous sense of humor, for we are destined to fall and die as soldiers upon the battlefield. In the morning, we leave with the combined Allied forces. We are to find and destroy the V2 rocket installations. Even with all of the careful preparations, the Germans will be waiting. There will be blood upon the shores, possibly our own. The cries of the dead will drown out the sorrows of the living, until there is nothing left but a great howling.
And yet, you lead us on. Even more, you bring with you a soldier yet unborn. Our child… it is for our child that I weep the most. What life will our child have, if death does not claim you tomorrow? Will our child even survive?
You look at me with calm, clear eyes and steady my heart with your faint smile. I love you more than I am allowed to, my Joy, my Radost. I will do everything within my power to keep you safe. You would not have me say so, but I would die happily in your arms. Every night we touch, we kiss, we share those stolen moments; I die a little. It is infectious, this blazhenstvo, this bliss I feel. I smile, though I weep. And in the end, the only thing that matters is you.
I will be there for you. I will kiss your cheek and smile, and then march off to war.
It is the least I can do for the woman who has given me more than I have ever dreamed of.
My Joy.
My Radost.
Title: On The Eve of Battle
Pairing: The Joy/The Sorrow
Rating: PG for vague hints of sexual content.
Summary: On the eve before D-Day, The Sorrow reflects upon his commander. (Prompt was as follows: The Joy(The Boss)/The Sorrow - while the Sorrow's still with the cobra unit. Doing a mission together or time off alone in between, I don't mind)
Radost. It is our word for Joy. But you… you are more than words can say. You’re beautiful and strong. It makes me weep. Weep for the tomorrows we will never have. What have we done, Joy? We were never meant to be like this. You are my commander. How can we even begin to explain this?
I see your hand on mine. I feel your arms around me, strong and secure. I see your skin in the pale moonlight, and I weep. We should never have met. We are soldiers, and only death awaits us. I have spoken with the dead, and they know this all too well. As do I.
Sorrow and Joy… The universe has a wonderful sense of humor to grant us to each other. A wonderful, monstrous sense of humor, for we are destined to fall and die as soldiers upon the battlefield. In the morning, we leave with the combined Allied forces. We are to find and destroy the V2 rocket installations. Even with all of the careful preparations, the Germans will be waiting. There will be blood upon the shores, possibly our own. The cries of the dead will drown out the sorrows of the living, until there is nothing left but a great howling.
And yet, you lead us on. Even more, you bring with you a soldier yet unborn. Our child… it is for our child that I weep the most. What life will our child have, if death does not claim you tomorrow? Will our child even survive?
You look at me with calm, clear eyes and steady my heart with your faint smile. I love you more than I am allowed to, my Joy, my Radost. I will do everything within my power to keep you safe. You would not have me say so, but I would die happily in your arms. Every night we touch, we kiss, we share those stolen moments; I die a little. It is infectious, this blazhenstvo, this bliss I feel. I smile, though I weep. And in the end, the only thing that matters is you.
I will be there for you. I will kiss your cheek and smile, and then march off to war.
It is the least I can do for the woman who has given me more than I have ever dreamed of.
My Joy.
My Radost.