It is a short story about Poland – France relationship during Napoleonic era. Of course I don't judge Napoleon's politic, because when you read about it, you can find one hundred versions of "What did he exactly think about Poland and Poles?".
Warnings fem!Poland – Maria, ruthless Francis.
Why Maria? Because of Maria Walewska – Polish noblewoman who was Napoleon's mistress.
Some notes :
The Royale Castle in Warsaw was an official residency of polish monarchs.
Golden Age – 16th century in Poland. It was the time when Poland and Lithuanian commonwealth was really powerful.
Part about Gilbert, Ivan and Roderich references to the partitions in 1772, 1793 and in 1795.
Napoleon and Maria.
From the beginning, as soon as she arrived here, she knew. She knew that he would do something like that. It was rather expected. She thought about that all the way and in the end she was ready for everything that would come. The scenario in her head was arranged very carefully. Every meaningless detail.
When she crossed the threshold of beautifully carves oak doors at the Royale Castle, her Castle. She did not have any, even the slightest doubt.
But when she finally heard from him, when she heard that he wanted to see her as his whore and that it is a price of her freedom, of her people freedom. She…ran away.
o
"Marie…It is you…" Francis couldn't believe. In front of him stood a shadow of a former cheerful Poland, that he remembered from her Golden Age. She was dirty, scarred and dresses in rags, something like uniform or torn tattered robe. But it was she. He calmed down and invited her to sit down. What a paradox, she was a guest in her own castle.
"I thought…Gilbert was really proud when he told me what he did to you with Ivan and Roderich…"
"I can tell you that he spoke truth, but he didn't kill me." She sat in a cozy red and gold armchair and sighed. She didn't sleep for long time to be here before Napoleon would go for his conquers.
"So, how do you feel in my castle?" Of course she remembered to emphasize that the place where they are, belonged to her. Frenchman smiled. Maybe Maria didn't have anything, but it was nothing for her. Her arrogance didn't change a bit. She really believed that everything can be successfully recover…but he really wanted to know what she would do…
"I can't say that it is my Paris apartments but this place is very comfortable.. It has some kind of charm."
It had much more charm when there were not Russians…" Maria sighed. The partitions seriously affected on her health, but also on her pride. Almost everything was destroyed or looted. They stripped the castle almost to the ground. Almost nothing was saved. She hung her head. In fact when Frenchman entered the castle they couldn't believe how empty there was.
"I am sorry." Francis put his hand on her shoulder. Maria lifted her head and smiled gently. Despite tiredness she had still beautiful face that was so many times in Francis' dreams. Her large almond – shaped eyes were surrounded by dark circles but they were as green as always. Her lips were cracked and her face was scarred. But even this couldn't change the fact that they had perfect shape. Francis knew a lot of "the most beautiful", but he thought if the Venus de Milo existed now she definitely would have Maria's face. Even tired and dirty. Such a woman! God, he was so jealous of Lithuania, that he could be so close to her for so many years.
"Well, but let's get to the point." Poland rose from her seat destroying the strange, ethereal mood.
"My people are oppressed by the invaders and I as a personification can't look at it and do nothing. And you…"
She walked to the window and looked at falling leaves.
"And I?" Frenchman encouraged her to continue speaking.
"And you conquered Prussia and Austria. You conquered my enemies. You won with my assassins."
"Yes, and I am not going to stop here."
"I know." She turned to him. Her face was concentrated.
"So what are you going to do with this knowledge?" Francis stepped closer to her.
"We have the same enemies. I want to ask you for help. Of course not for free."
The blonde laughed, what she could offer him?
"Well, I am open for your suggestion."
"There are many people…well organized, who will jump into the fire as long as you only…"
"You mean soldiers?"
"Yes…you can say so." Maria nodded slowly. Francis smiled even wider.
"People that can provide feeding and accommodation…"
"I understand. And I suppose that you expect in return freedom, right?"
"Yes, I mean anything that can change something in my country."
"So, in conclusion, a few soldiers and waiving me a couple of buildings which incidentally are my like this land, you expect me to rebuild you as an independent country. Am I right?"
"Approximately." Poland was judging his tone and she knew that she didn't convince him. He decided to play with her a little longer. He started in official, serious tone.
"It is really nobly that your people want to give their lives for freedom…I appreciate this, but it is not very good pay."
"Not good?" She asked hesitantly, not understanding what he meant.
"You know, when it comes to people you can talk with my boss, but I doubt if he wants to talk with you."
Maria couldn't stand it, she ran to him and grabbed tightly his cloak. He could see in her eyes determination mixed with insanity."
"God, Francis, I beg you, say something to Napoleon…convince him to help us…Talk to him. I can't stand it any longer! My people are suffering, they are treated like dogs, because they are Poles! They can't talk in their language, they can nothing!
Her eyes were filled with tears. Her body trembled. She fell on her knees in font of Francis.
"Please…I beg you tell him something."
She looked from the bottom like a beggar at a rich man. Francis sighed theatrically and knelt beside her. He was sure that she would do everything…So why he should not use it?
"Ma belle polonaise…I am ready to help you, but…"
Francis took her soft cheek in his hand. Peach skin was velvety. Maria slight furrowed brows. She has already known what was coming. Francis stroked her tenderly.
"You don't realize how beautiful you are, you propose me a few soldiers when you can give me something much more valuable…which in addition will cause a pleasure not only to me, but also to you."
Maria pushed his hand with rapid motion. She got up from the floor and her face clearly showed what she thought about still kneeling Frenchman. And it was nothing decent.
"So, so! You want me to be your whore?" Her voice rose with every spoken word. "And what now? Should I start from blowjob or we go straight to bed?"
Marias' screams went through the whole chamber. When she ended she looked like she could kill Francis with bare hands. He stood up and came close to her. He felt her fast breath and whispered.
"I would not call it prostitution."
"Really? So what would you call it? She spoke still angry.
"Do you really not understand what I offer to you?" Francis grabbed her shoulders and shook hard.
"What do you offer me?"
"You can live in palaces. Live like before! Eat normal food, sleep in cozy bed not somewhere on the hay in the stable!" France breathed heavily. He closed his eyes and stopped squeezing her shoulders. He added quietly.
"You can feel love and stop running away from Gilbert who treats you like a dirty rag. Do you understand?"
Maria stared at him. Of course, she understood. Sex for better life. There was no doubt that Francis was a great lover. But she didn't want his physical love. She didn't want any love, because in the end, everything was because of her stupid, youthful feeling.
After the battle on Tannenbergs' fields she promised herself that it was the end. She was with Toris and she was happy. But she was also torn, despite the law and her personal oath she couldn't forgot her first love.
Love that was so painful.
And in the end she gave up and allowed to be led by her old feeling. She made Gilbert her vassal state. She saved him. She thought that everything would be all right that they would speak again with each other. But no. He grew stronger and stronger and prepared revenge. And when everything started falling down he attacked and won.
Maria still saw his face expression when he caught her. He had no doubts. He didn't spare himself anything. He reminded her everything. He called her whore, raped her and beat, but not for pleasure. He did it, because he wanted to show her that he could. That he had power over her, over that Lithuanian whore as he called her. And it was not about that it hurt. It was about something that she saw in his eyes. Hatred. Pure, absolute power that was hidden behind those bloody irises. After all they did together he had no qualm, as if nothing ever had been between them. As if he remembered only bad moments. And it hurt the most…
Maria pushed away from Francis.
"I don't care about your love."
Frenchman snorted. He looked at her with contempt.
"In that case, you have nothing to look for here."
Maria turned on her heel and walked out, slamming the door with such a force that the picture hanging on the wall fell with a crash on the floor.
But, Francis knew that she would come back.