Chapter Text
She awoke in an unsteady panic, coughing as she pulled herself up in bed, an odd sensation stuck in her throat. The dark of the apartment made her squint, Murati giving a tap to the back wall to provoke a pop-up that provided a gentle light. It lit her bed and nightstand, medications and torn condom wrapper spread across the small tabletop. She heard some quiet grumbling from her side, gaze shifting over towards the woman in her bed, silky dark blue hair splayed across the pillows, rounded, fluffy ear gently twitching as she shifted, and her eyebrows knit in her sleep from the soft light upon her.
An expression of fondness grew on Murati’s face, shifting in her position as big spoon to brush some hair from Imani’s cheek. She could feel the thick tail of the Shimii woman gently wrapped around her thigh and did her best to wriggle free to shift out of bed without awakening her partner. An early meeting with the Reichskommissar was on the docket for today- but Imani had been free the day before, so they’d taken the opportunity for a date to familiarize themselves with their new home in Aachen. A movie and dinner had been just the start- they’d spent the night enjoying each other’s company and drifted off with Murati still pressed close, inside of Imani. At some point they must have shifted apart from each other- the feeling of cum and sweat from their bodily contact had been given a chance to dry.
She made her way to the bathroom of her rather sizable apartment, starting the shower and letting the traces of the night she’d shared with Imani wash away, hands running through her hair, taking the opportunity to pay for the premium shampoo and moisturizer extras in the shower unit, putting in the effort to make sure she’d be presentable today before Reichskommissar Lehner. It didn’t take long for her to hear the shower door slide open behind her, Imani’s confident hands resting on Murati’s hips.
“Leaving me so soon? I might think you just see me as a piece of meat if you treat me so poorly. Without even a goodbye kiss?” Imani teased, the soft voice in her ear making Murati shiver as the pair pressed together in the warm water of the shower. The sensation of Imani’s soft chest pressing into her shoulder blades provoked some feelings in Murati. A gentle throb between her thighs made her mentally run over her schedule- but unfortunately, there was no time to make Imani cry out once more.
“I didn’t wish to wake you- I mentioned the Reichskommissar wanted to see me, and you’ve had scant few days off recently. I wanted you to have a chance to relax for as long as you could.” Murati’s answer was straightforward- she had understood Imani wasn’t serious but felt a desire to clarify and reaffirm her feelings in that moment.
Imani grumbled a bit at not having her joke responded to in kind, squeezing Murati a bit tighter in punishment. “Mhmm… And I bet that chipper adjutant of yours will be here any minute to suck your dick under the desk the whole meeting?”
Murati twisted around to look back, giving Imani an unimpressed glare that was met with an innocent little smile. “Imani, do we need to talk again about how jealousy isn’t a charming trait for a Standartenführer?” Her tone had a bit more iron in it now- this was a conversation that had been had several times at this point, and her initial flustered responses had worn thin as Imani kept poking at Christinia’s character.
Imani giggled at the response she’d gotten, hands lifting from where they’d been groping at Murati’s thighs to put them up defensively. “Oh my, pulling rank- very well, Oberführer, I’ll keep the peace. Invite her over, then! Violet too! It’ll help us bond! We’ll make an orgy of it!”
Murati grimaced at Imani’s concept of keeping the peace, pulling herself away from the other woman to step out. “Ugh. Take your time- there’s some food in the fridge.” She left Imani to sing some pop song in the shower, leaning against the sink as the mirror activated. Various ‘premium’ features were telling her the products that she could buy to style her face in line with popular trends- leaving out the ones from opposing brands, of course. She ignored all of these, simply straightening her hair and taking a few minutes to dry off- glancing down to see a few smears of blood smeared over the drain of the sink.
She felt an odd sting at her temple, wincing and shaking her head as she walked back to bed to grab her medications for the day, popping them all at once. Then, since she was mostly dry, she began to prepare her uniform. The process of it was secondary by this point, just a little ritual that helped steady Murati further. The gleaming badge for her rank caught her eye, adjusting it for a moment as she buttoned up her shirt and adjusted her tie- Christina had become less exacting about Murati’s appearance as she continued to be promoted and the pair grew closer, but she still appreciated effort being put into appearances. It was a ‘charm point’ of hers that Murati and no problems appealing to.
As if summoned, the doorbell of the apartment rang, alerting Murati that Hauptscharführer Christina Fink was at the door, ready for her. Finishing buttoning up her uniform jacket, checking the pins of her three armbands a final time, Murati made her way to the door to greet Christina, putting her cap on as she opened the door.
“Good morning, Hauptscharführer Fink.” With a warm smile given to Christina’s quick salute, Murati stepped out, preparing to leave- but the flushed expression on Christina’s face drew pause. Murati glanced behind her, getting an eyeful of Imani, still happily singing as she swayed out of the bathroom clad in a very loosely tied robe and flopping back, splaying herself out upon the bed. Without a moment’s hesitation, Murati slammed the door, aware of the sour expression on her face as her jackboots clicked against the steel hallway outside of her apartment.
Christina hurried to catch up and keep pace with her, an unsteady smile and awkward blush still very visible on her face. “G-good morning to you as well, Oberführer.”
Murati leaned back in the elevator, relaxing against the railing as Christina stood stock straight besides her. She’d been quiet since her greeting, and Murati sent a mental thought of frustration Imani’s way. An orgy? Ha. Even if Christina had agreed to keep her company once or twice or had assisted in relieving stresses during long hours or after battles- she required a gentle touch. Perhaps now all that progress was set back. She surely knew Murati had a variety of women who entertained her. But such a direct sight might have offended her rather delicate morals.
“Ah, Oberführer…?”
“Yes, Christina?” Murati’s response attempted to evoke some closeness, shifting a bit closer to her adjutant- but Christina seemed caught up in her own thoughts and missed these gestures.
“Are you and… Standartenführer Imani Hadžić… in love?” Her voice lacked the Hauptscharführer’s usual composed control, sounding a bit choked up.
Not the question Murati had been expecting. Love? That was difficult. She looked out of the wide window of the elevator as it brought them to the proper level, thinking for a few moments.
“I’m fond of her. She’s a reliable soldier who has a very respectable understanding of her role. I care about Imani. And I know she cares for me as well. I… I care about you as well, Christina.”
This wasn’t quite an answer, and her hands began to move vaguely to convey some complex feeling- but she steeled herself and stopped them. It had been some years since she’d been mocked for her gesticulations in the Diver squadron, but old habits stuck.
“I see! Well, thank you. I’m fond of you, Murati.”
Now Christina took a single step to the side, becoming shoulder to shoulder with Murati. An urge swelled within Murati’s breast.
“Christina.”
“Hm? What’s the-”
She turned to look towards Murati, just in time for Murati’s fingers to rest beneath her chin, making Christina hold her gaze before pressing her lips to her adjutants. A bright red flush grew upon Christina’s face, but she didn’t pull away- Murati held the kiss, mildly surprised by the sudden taste of Christina’s tongue pressing between her lips.
Christina seemed satisfied- perhaps Murati could invite her over some night. To fight off any thoughts of favoritism from forming. How complicated.
The last few minutes of the elevator ride she felt her mind turning over thoughts of love. Half-remembered recollections of college, of one woman in some science courses she shared several dates with. A smile twitched to form at Murati’s lips at the thought of some intimate moments. But- it couldn’t last. As a North Bosporan, Murati had no hope of status or acclaim from the history courses she’d taken. And so, she’d arrived at the military. And that warm, charmingly sweet scientist girl with long, soft hair remained a fond memory. Their paths diverged, incompatible- it was a shame. But Murati was happy enough.
A short walk later, and Christina and her had arrived at Violet’s offices. Christina headed towards Murati’s office, stopping for a moment to ask, “Murati, would you like me to get you something to eat after your meeting?”
Murati gave a soft smile, shaking her head, boots clicking as she continued to walk, “No, don’t worry. Violet usually picks up something to eat for early meetings.” With a quick salute, Christina turned away, and Murati found herself before Violet’s doors. Taking a breath, wiping the smile from her face, she opened it, stepping in.
“Murati! Just in time, come here.” The lovely, easygoing voice of the woman within the office, legs raised and crossed on the desk came from the Reichskommissar of the region- Violet Lehner. With a small, customized cooler resting besides her. Murati obediently stepped forward, moving behind the desk and leaning down. “Open up!”
A few moments later, Murati had a small mushroom cap with some sort of pesto filling placed between her lips. She chewed for a few moments, swallowing, giving a polite smile to Violet. “It’s quite delicious, Reichskommissar.”
The woman’s face lit up, but she then rolled her eyes, “And you’re going to go right down to the restaurant next door to order some sausage and potatoes anyway, yes?”
Murati couldn’t help but tilt her head in assent, standing up straight. “Rhinea’s heartland puts a great deal of economic value into those ingredients- they’re an important crux of the Imbrian diet and representative of the current capabilities and production priorities of the R-”
She was cut off by a teasing wave of Violet’s hand, an exaggerated frown on her soft lips. “I know, I know, I know! I’m working on it! Soon we’ll have fixed that, Murati, and you’ll be eating every meal by my side.”
“I look forward to it, Reichskommissar.” She spoke honestly- a change in the priorities of the agricultural wing of Rhinea’s production would be a major upset of the status quo, but Violet was the one who she believed could bring such things about. And Murati was committed to standing beside her, to fight to bring those vast dreams to fruition. A complete upset of the diet of the average Imbrian was one of her more charming goals- her true dreams shined so bright Murati’s heart swelled.
Violet stood from her chair, surprising Murati for a moment, before she understood- “Ah, Violet, is there any chance M-”
Once again, she was cut off by a fond expression from Violet, “Don’t you worry, Magdalena’s suppressing some insurgents who’ve been making some noise in the lower maintenance tunnels. That ought to keep her busy for a few hours, at least. She’s been complaining about being kept on too short a leash.”
Murati let out a soft sigh of relief. Magdalena was another important part of Violet’s retinue, but she was… off-putting to Murati. Both for her casual racist remarks and for the way her gaze tended to linger on Violet- and Murati as well. Murati had been moved around so much and her relationships were often so fleeting she had trouble feeling ‘possessive’- but Magdalena’s eyes often made her want to stand between Violet and her.
And so, with the assurance they wouldn’t receive interruptions from the dramatic Standartenführer, Murati sat down in the Reichskommissar’s seat. A moment later, the familiar sensation of Violet in her lap, legs hanging off the side of the chair, set Murati further at ease. Her hand found its familiar spot, resting atop Violet’s thigh, fingertips brushing at the place her inner thighs pressed together.
The pair enjoyed a few quiet moments in the familiar peace: Violet eating a few pieces of the meal she’d brought, sometimes holding out a mushroom cap to feed to Murati, once even holding it between her own lips. Murati graciously responding in kind, biting into the mushroom while gazing into Violet’s eyes as their lips met.
Holding her gaze provoked a bit of an embarrassment in the Reichskommissar, and she hurriedly turned away to chew. A few moments later, she swallowed and managed a chastisement.
“I swear, Murati Nakara, you grow more obstinate every day!”
“I learned from the best, Reichskommissar.”
“Hmph.”
Violet’s charmingly cute pouting continued for a few minutes longer, giving Murati a chance to run her other hand through the woman’s hair, the straight pink and blue locks parting between her olive-toned fingertips. She’d originally thought Violet’s aesthetic ostentatious. Well- she still held that opinion, but it held more meaning to her now.
Hearing the speeches Violet presented to the world was one side of her. One that Murati respected and found worthy of support and her service. But it was in a few quiet nights, sharing the same pillow, with Violet’s less rehearsed, less grand words that Murati had truly devoted herself to this woman. ‘Passing’ as Murati had desired, for a time, wasn’t the goal. It was to force the people Violet stood over to look at her, to submit to her, and to know the entire time the identity of the one they were beneath.
Love… was difficult. Violet didn’t provoke the feelings she’d felt as a college student, holding hands in darkened theaters and sharing shy but hungry kisses in alleys away from view. But Murati felt her life to be intertwined with Violet’s now. She didn’t ever wish to be more than a short elevator ride from this woman. To be at her side, to hold her close, to pin her down- all these things were purposes that felt natural for Murati to fulfill. For her, maybe it was something akin to Destiny.
It was scientific- Fascism was an expression of the intrinsic identity of humanity. She felt that Violet’s interpretation simply made sense for the conditions of the world. Those unworthy of life, taking from the Reich- those undeserving of the agency granted to them by the current order. The coalition of those inside and out of Imbria’s borders to attempt to bring ruin to the world Violet wished to build.
“Oh my, Murati- isn’t it rather early?”
Her train of thought was broken by Violet’s rather lascivious tone. The sensation of Violet’s ass pressed into her lap, shifting and bouncing with her eager constant repositioning had provoked some stiffness between Murati’s thighs. A soft smile formed on her lips, hand taking the opportunity to grip a handful of the hair she’d been running her fingers through, leaning a bit closer to Violet’s ear.
“Reichskommissar, you grow more obstinate every day. Trying to dodge your responsibilities?”
“Mmmm, I-I learned from the best.”
Murati’s desire was growing- but unfortunately, this meeting wasn’t simply for the pleasure of Violet’s company. She instead leaned in closer, her breath making the woman’s earrings shift as she whispered.
“Then come by tonight, Reichskommissar. Keep this lustful, corrupting Oberführer company this evening.”
“I suppose… for you… I could clear some space in my schedule.” Her breathy, stumbling voice was such an enjoyable side of Violet. Just for Murati. She responded so well to her every touch and word. And so, Murati leaned back in the chair, letting her grip loosen and giving a much gentler smile. Which provoked a contorted expression from Violet- a desire for more, an understanding for what the reasoning was- Murati had learned to read her this well at least.
“Hmph. Then, to business-” There was a bit of an unsatisfied grumble there that only charmed Murati more.
“To business.” Murati assented, Violet twisting her lap once more to be able to activate the screen upon her desk. Looking over her shoulder, Murati got the gist of it- some coalition of leftists and an NGO trying to undercut the efforts of Violet’s precious Zabaniyah. The Shimii of Aachen’s relationship to ‘Fascism’ was still developing, and threats to the proper understanding and priorities being imprinted into them were some of Violet’s biggest concerns now.
“Would you like me to go visit? Instill some order?” Murati asked, Violet’s single nod of assent all she needed. Slowly sliding from her lap, Violet stood, regaining that regal composure that represented the face she wore for the rest of the world. Murati followed her lead, standing and adjusting her cap, steady and unflinching. She made her way around to the other side of the desk, returning to the more ‘official’ relationship.
“It’ll be done, Reichskommissar. I’ll see you tonight.” She gave a salute, turning to leave the office- only to begin choking, coughing as the room began to spin- Violet's comforting face smearing into a distorted mess of colors as she fell to her hands and knees. A taste of salt filled her mouth, vision blurring as her final thoughts of Destiny faded to black.
Her eyes bolted open, coughing and gagging up water as she pulled herself from the instantly recognizable metal flooring- this was the showers aboard the Brigand, wasn’t it? Was that nightmare over? She felt groggy and unsteady, looking at the floor beneath her and finding it covered in a thin layer of black liquid, disturbed by her sudden motions. Laying down on her side must have meant she kept inhaling and choking up some of the liquid- its inky darkness was throwing her off, but it seemed to just be saltwater from the lingering taste in her mouth. Murati ran a hand through her soaked hair, slicking it back and unsteadily getting to her feet- jackboots splashing in the shallow water as she stumbled to the sinks and mirrors. She was face-to-face with familiar olive skin, brown hair (streaked with black now), her own amber eyes- but she was still clad in that wretched uniform, three armbands reflected along with her frenzied, horrified gaze.
Murati hurriedly clawed at the buttons of the uniform jacket, tearing it off and tossing it to the floor and watching as- before her eyes- it dissolved away into the inch of black liquid as if simply absorbed into the dark shallows. She slumped back against the sink, twisting and staring into the drain- it was smeared with red blood, bright against the pale metal. Murati’s mind was running in circles. Something was wrong. It was difficult to put her thoughts in order, to even conceptualize what she’d just been through. The names and faces of fascists she’d seen only through screens- even fascists she’d never seen- were now fresh in her memories. Fresh, close, and… intimate. Her eyes lifted back to the mirror, that shellshocked expression remaining on her face, hands white from how tight she gripped the sinks edge.
A feeling of disgust and horror rose in her, along with- a rising sensation of vomit. Her hand instinctively lifted to cover her mouth as she wretched, expected bile or saltwater, greeted instead by the taste of iron. Murati’s fraying composure reached its breaking point as she spit up-
blood, it was blood-
she could taste it on her lips, see it in the palm of her hand-
dripping down-
onto the clean (why was it clean?) sink drain beneath her-
staring in horror as the smear of red blood she swore she’d seen before-
dripped from her palm, staining the drain with the familiar splatter pattern still fresh in her mind.
“Solceanos defend.”
Slowly lowering her hand, gaze drawn back into that mirror- still clad in the soaked shirt and tie of the Volkisch uniform clinging to her body, her lips now smeared with red alongside the black of the stained water. This was a nightmare. In every sense of the word. But- Murati swallowed back the taste of iron and blood, her expression steadying as she took a breath.
So many things she’d faced so far had been nightmares. The cruelties of the Empire, the racism of its people, that haunting eruption of Agarthicite she and Shalikova had bore witness to- all things that had left scars upon her soul. And none had stopped her- none had turned her away from this journey. Standing up straight, turning and walking out of the showers without looking back- the splashing black water from every step of her jackboots following her into the hall. Murati taking her first steps into the flooded corridors of this impossibly quiet and haunted False Brigand to oppose this specter of Destiny haunting her.
