Loyalty
Fandom: Discworld
Claim: Monstrous Regiment
Characters: Polly/Mal
Prompt: Loyalty
Rating: PG (for mention of warfare)
Word Count: 250
Title:
General of the Army
It was strange, Polly thought through the fog of her exhaustion. Here she was, at the peak of her career. The only person giving her orders now was Commander General Clogston. Everyone else was… one of her Little Lads.
She sighed, scrutinizing the much-corrected map on her desk.
There were days – even weeks – when Polly missed her years as a sergeant. You followed orders and you tried to keep your squad alive and, in a way, that made it easy.
This was anything but.
She wondered, often, how Chris, and Froc before her, had done it. Deciding which group of little lads would be sent to certain death, and which ones got to camp out on a mountainside for weeks, waiting for a fight that might never come.
“Sir?” The door opened, hesitantly, and Mal slipped into the office. She raised an eyebrow at Polly’s expression. “Still sorting out the whole Vieux situation?”
Polly nodded, wondering if she looked as tired as she felt.
Mal let the door swing shut behind her, moving to look over Polly’s shoulder.
“Still going to be a slaughter?” she asked.
“Yep,” Polly answered. “I keep thinking if I look at this damn map long enough, I’ll see a way out, but nothing’s coming.”
Gentle arms wrapped around her shoulders.
“It’ll come to you,” Mal murmured. “That, or we’ll do what we have to.”
Polly sighed, leaning into Mal’s embrace, accepting the comfort she offered.
“Let’s hope it hurries up and comes to me, then.”
Comments? Questions? Useful Feedback of Any Kind?
Claim: Monstrous Regiment
Characters: Polly/Mal
Prompt: Loyalty
Rating: PG (for mention of warfare)
Word Count: 250
Title:
General of the Army
It was strange, Polly thought through the fog of her exhaustion. Here she was, at the peak of her career. The only person giving her orders now was Commander General Clogston. Everyone else was… one of her Little Lads.
She sighed, scrutinizing the much-corrected map on her desk.
There were days – even weeks – when Polly missed her years as a sergeant. You followed orders and you tried to keep your squad alive and, in a way, that made it easy.
This was anything but.
She wondered, often, how Chris, and Froc before her, had done it. Deciding which group of little lads would be sent to certain death, and which ones got to camp out on a mountainside for weeks, waiting for a fight that might never come.
“Sir?” The door opened, hesitantly, and Mal slipped into the office. She raised an eyebrow at Polly’s expression. “Still sorting out the whole Vieux situation?”
Polly nodded, wondering if she looked as tired as she felt.
Mal let the door swing shut behind her, moving to look over Polly’s shoulder.
“Still going to be a slaughter?” she asked.
“Yep,” Polly answered. “I keep thinking if I look at this damn map long enough, I’ll see a way out, but nothing’s coming.”
Gentle arms wrapped around her shoulders.
“It’ll come to you,” Mal murmured. “That, or we’ll do what we have to.”
Polly sighed, leaning into Mal’s embrace, accepting the comfort she offered.
“Let’s hope it hurries up and comes to me, then.”
Comments? Questions? Useful Feedback of Any Kind?