AUTHOR: Abby Malone
RATING: PG for implied sex
SPOILERS: Discusses Marguerite's relationship with Dieter, as spoken of in Season One's "Tribute"
NOTES: I actually did some research for this chapter...hope it adds something! Big "thank you"s to TheChosenOne3, A. Windsor, fab, and zeusfluff---this is for ya'll :) And to answer questions, yes I hope to continue it. Scenes will depend a lot on my muse and the eps. I've got on tape. And, of course, to requests. :)
Of all of the stories my Aunt Madge shared with me over the years, my favorites were invariably her tales of WWI. My brother's story about Aunt Madge during the war made a lot of sense after hearing her tales of spying during "The Great War".
As soon as I heard the word 'spy', I immediately jumped to conclusions. You'd have thought that my mistakes regarding the romance of Aunt Madge and Uncle John would've taught be better, but no. The word spy brought visions of daring adventures and cunning escapes, and I loved it. I could just see Aunt Madge, young and beautiful, escaping and outsmarting the Germans.
We met in her library in the evening over tea, Aunt Madge sitting by the fire as I entered.
"You've been imagining since I told you I was a spy, haven't you?"
I managed a sheepish grin as I sat down, "Yes."
"You're not likely to care for this story nearly as much then," she said tartly, taking a sip of tea, "There's little heroism in spying, my dear, despite the romanticism that surrounds it."
"But it's so noble!" I blurted before I could stop myself. She looked up sharply and snorted,
"Noble? There is nothing noble about skulking around in the mud or seducing old officers."
I looked up at her in amazement, for of all the things I could imagine Aunt Madge doing, 'skulking around in the mud' would not be one of them. Hadn't my parents told me how she hated to go without her baths? Her coffee?
"Tell me then," I said with a small smile, "tell me what it was like." She shook her head with a chuckle,
"Just like your father."
And then she told me.
"It was the summer of 1916, and I was in Berlin...on business. My name was Marla Krause for this assignment, and I used my considerable charms to get myself invited to a banquet by none other than ..."
"Heißen Sie willkommen, Fräulein, Sie anschauen lieblich heute abend."
I smile coquettishly at the old man,
"Vielen Dank Herr. Und wäre es auch von mir weiterleiten zu sagen, daß Sie positiv Zerschmettern in Uniform anschauen?"
He chuckles at that and offers his arm, looking proud as a peacock.
"Wäre es auch von mir weiterleiten, einer solchen gütigen Frau ein Glas Lochstanze anzubieten?"
I take his arm and gaze adoringly up at him,
"Überhaupt nicht. Vielen Dank."*(translation at end of chapter)
He leads me toward the punch, and I take the opportunity to surreptitiously scout the room for the rest of my targets. Across the room I catch sight of the main objective. I grit my teeth against the punch glass and try not to slap the Field Marshall's hand off my hip as he continues to compliment me outrageously. Across the room, my target is talking to a blonde tart in a scandalously cut evening gown.
"Darling," I purr demurely, "I believe that gentleman called you over."
I nudge him gently in the direction of the mark, and he smiles down at me,
"Ah, yes, that is General Warburg**."
He proud of himself, I can see. Proud of himself and his connections. Idiot. I flutter my eyelashes at him, and he flushes,
"Would you like to meet him, my dear?"
"Oh I couldn't...I needn't take up any of his time."
"Any time you take, my dear, would be repaid by your beauty I'm sure."
I giggle shyly and allow him to lead me over to the man, who practically shoves the blonde out of the way when he sees me. I suppress a smirk and smile winningly at him.
"Good day, Herr General," I say, lilting my voice with just a hint of promise. He kisses my hand, then slides a look at my 'date'.
"Field Marshall," he says smoothly, "why don't you take a walk?"
The old man looks dismayed at the prospect, but bows out gracefully, taking the blonde tart with him.
"Such beauty I have never seen, Miss...?"
"Krause," I lean close, "Marla Krause."
"And a beautiful name to go with it. Would you care for a drink, Miss Krause?"
"Marla, please, Herr General."
"Then Max, I insist."
I blush and look at my feet in a fit of false shyness, but nod in acquiescence. He ushers me to his table--at the head of the banquet hall--and impolitely moves a young officer and his date to make room for me.
"Oh Max," I say breathlessly, "how important you are!"
He holds me very tightly, and his mustache tickles my cheek as he kisses me.
The night passes in a whirl, and I vaguely remember being introduced to a hotshot young pilot by the name of Dieter before being whisked away to the General's suite. It's there that I weave the real magic, and manage to milk him for information without him even realizing it. In the morning I leave before dawn with a note full of false sincerity and pride for 'giving my virtue to an officer of the Kaiser.'
"Shortly thereafter I met young Dieter again...in Belgium, actually. And all I shall say about that is that War certainly brings out the worst in people--Germans, especially."
I frowned, wanting to ask what exactly she meant but somewhat fearful of her answer. Given her reticence, I decided to postpone any questioning about what exactly went on between herself and Dieter.
"But you did make it back to England?"
"Of course. Just in time, actually, to get another assignment. That was the one leading up to the iridium theft, and if you want more than that you'll just have to go search the Royal Archives."
I sighed at that,
"That's it? That's all you'll say?"
She smirked,
"My dear, I was a SPY! One of the first things we're taught is how to tease a story."
"Aren't you going to finish it, though?" I demanded, "What happened in Belgium? What's iridium?"
She looked pensive a long moment, then stood with her tea cup in hand,
"That, my young author, would be a tale for another day. Don't worry, dear, I wouldn't challenge you to write my memoirs and then not tell you the stories."
I was silent for a long moment, and she headed for the door. She paused, half-turned, and threw a wicked smile my way,
"But I will tell you that the iridium assignment was the first time I worked with your Uncle John."
I looked up, surprised, but by the time I'd formulated another question she was gone.
I wondered, briefly, if my father had ever had so maddening an interview. Then I shook my head and grinned. Of course he had; he'd known Aunt Madge in her youth!
*Welcome, Miss, you're looking lovely this evening.
Thank you, sir. And would it be too forward of me to say that you look positively dashing in uniform?
Would it be too forward of me to offer such a gracious lady a glass of punch?
Not at all. Thank you.
(Big thanks to FreeTranslation.com)
**Max Warburg, head of the German Secret Service in 1916, was not a General. But since they gave him that rank on the show, I decided to stick to it.
