Audrey, who had been a rare smoker in her lifetime and usually only to evoke an air of chic, begun smoking at every opportunity she got. A solider had offered her one in passing on her first morning in the mansion and she had taken it curtly and unkindly, barrelling through the little cylinder as though it was her last string to hope.
Whatever the insane place was, whatever tentacle of the powerful party, stripped of any honesty of the warm family it held before, who were almost undoubtedly Jewish, it was now her home. Audrey felt in a strange way that she had been shoved out of her own body the moment Eli had died and she had no will or desire to get back in. She was perhaps existing as her own shadow now. Watching her blonde hair move from behind herself. She thought in passing that Landa had noticed over the days that stretched like years, the way his eyes landed on her with a quirk of curiosity. She was a ghost in her flesh. Living dead.
She wasn't too fused by this as it appeared to be enough for Landa to keep her away from anyone influential who passed through the home. She couldn't name a lot of them, but she had seen them in newspapers and other propaganda in Paris. They wore shiny uniforms and even their own appeared to cower ever so slightly at their footfall. She wondered if she were still sparkling and snarling if Landa would have her on display, but despite the fact, her attack from Klutch had been a few weeks ago, the bruises were still healing and the crushing sadness that had overtaken her made her dull and beige.
She didn't even care what soldiers thought of her. She'd heard whispers. Many quiet arguments about the fact she was either Landa's younger lover or a secret bastard daughter. Luckily the two remained mutually exclusive as far as rumours went. Regardless of what the soldiers believed, it was enough for them to keep a placid, polite tone with her. She noted it as they handed her cigarette's and smiled genuinely, no doubt in her mind that they had fingers-crossed she would pass this act of collegiality to their master.
Zoller had remained a bother but the newly deeply depressed Audrey appeared to hamper any chance he had had of friendly interaction. She couldn't even bring herself to smile when he spoke to her, keenly aware that she was dead-eyed and exhausted. He seemed nervous to flirt too intensely with her, his boyish charm worthless against the cool new front she exhibited.
She was most surprised that she appeared to be left to rot in the house. She had assumed, as Landa did with nearly all that he did, there was some grand, self-preserving plan in play. Clock-work with precision engineering that he would alert her to in the morning after their conversation. But he hadn't. He had appeared to be happy to simply see her wilt, and she was so exhausted that she couldn't imagine a life where she would ever bloom again.
It had been on the third day while she was once again smoking alone on a bench in the small but lush garden that circled the beautiful manor house that attention had truly squared to her. Zoller had jogged to her, in the same pathetic way that a dumb dog would run towards any person that would pat it and she had stilled herself, ready for another ham-handed attempt of love and romance.
"Fraulein Lowe," he said, his hand to his chest in such earnestness that she nearly rolled her eyes. "You are needed in the reception room."
"Why?" She asked in French, taking another drag from her cigarette.
"Colonel Landa has requested you," he said, switching to French with a little blush.
"Why doesn't he come and ask me himself?" She asked, tapping some ash to the ground with a flat affect. She wasn't even sure why she was resisting but the small act of defiance made her feel good.
"We have très important guests," he said, the anxiety catching his voice at the thought of having to return without her. "You are required."
"Ordered," Audrey corrected. He blushed again, and she rose, crushing the cigarette beneath her foot as she walked behind him to the house.
The reception room was a grand, circular room that sat on the ground floor. It was full of plush furnishing and antique wooden surfaces, and a grand Piano sat neatly in the middle of it all. Audrey saw the flash of fancy Nazi regalia as she walked through, her eyes dropping at the situation.
"Ah Zoller you found her, Wunderbar," a thick, unfamiliar German voice called. She glanced up and recognised an oily man she knew to be Goebbels. She knew that he was very important. She'd seen him on the cover of German newspapers and whispered in free French discussions. She stared at him blankly before the tiniest twitch of confusion hit her brow. Landa was near him, smiling with wolf-like delight at her, while an unknown woman that looked like a panther lounged nearby, her sharp eyes scathing as she took Audrey in.
She noticed there was a few more party types, a small set of suited men, all of who looked furious yet bored as she felt to be in the presence of these Nazis. One was sat on the lounge, two tall men stood behind him, broad and angry.
"We require your services, Audrey," Landa said simply in German, smiling amiably at her.
"I am more than happy to continue to translate their French-"
"Nein," Landa interrupted the cat-like woman. "Nien. Our guests should speak their own tongues."
Audrey felt her brows furrow ever so slightly before taking in the severe guests once more. She knew by the way they held themselves, the tenseness and iciness of the presentation.
"Dobroye utro gentlemen," Audrey greeted, bowing her head briefly but respectfully towards the group of men. She watched the flash of their eyes to hear clear Russian emirate from her Germanic face, a quick flicker between them in either appreciation or distrust.
"You are a translator?" One asked.
"Nyett," Audrey said calmly. "I am residing here for the time being. It is just… udacha."
Lucky.
Audrey nearly snorted at using such a word. One let out a huff and Audrey let out a small smile, quietly thrilled to be speaking in secret.
"We wish to speak to our guests about a movie," an impatient Goebbels interrupted. Audrey glanced to watch the long, gloved fingers of his companion wrap and massage one of his shoulders, her eyes burning into Audrey who stood beside the still poker-straight stood Zoller.
"Of course, Sir," Zoller said.
"What movie?" Audrey asked, brows furrowing slightly.
"Not a movie, an event about a movie, idiot girl," Goebbels' barked. She saw her Russian companions' eyes narrow at his tone, eyes shifting to watch the unimpressed Audrey stare at him as Zoller appeared more and more anxious.
"Sir she doesn't know about any of this," Zoller tried to gently explain but a hand from Goebbels silenced him.
"What is he saying?" One of her Russian counterparts explained.
"He wants to talk about a movie event, and he called me an idiot," Audrey translated smoothly.
She caught one of the men shake his head irritably.
"It is next week, this movie, but plans have changed," Goebbels continued, ignoring her aside.
Audrey translated it verbatim, sounding almost bored as she spoke in clear Russian.
"And it is now, no longer a public affair," Goebbels continued, sounding increasingly annoyed. She translated, not looking to him as she spoke to her counterparts
"It is a German only affair we are afraid to inform," Goebbels said. "We've moved it to a smaller place, the La Gamaar, a little French outfit, and we will no longer be showing the film at the Ritz as we had initially intended- "
"Why do we care?" One Russian interrupted Audrey's translation. It took all of her not to laugh at his blunt response.
"He is asking why it is of concern to him," Audrey said swiftly to Goebbels. He flinched with rage and she felt her feet plant a little firmer on the ground at his expression.
"Because you are no longer invited," he said. "And we are being courteous in sharing this with you."
"So, what does this mean?" One Russian asked Audrey. "We don't have to see another of his shitty movies?"
"Ah…. Da," Audrey answered.
"What did he say?" Goebbels barked.
"He is wondering what it means and asks if it means he will not be able to view your film," Audrey translated tactfully.
"Ja," Goebbels said, looking happy with himself to send such a mighty blow to the Russians.
"And they dragged us here for this?" One asked.
"Is there any other reason they have been requested to attend today?" Audrey translated tactfully once more.
"To apologise of course," Landa said, smiling in a way that made Audrey feel a little queasy.
"To say sorry," Audrey translated tentatively.
"For his son, and the incident with that maid."
Audrey froze, glancing between Landa and the man.
"For…." Audrey begun.
"For what?" The seated one asked, his heavily moustached face keenly turned at her, irritation playing behind his eyes.
"There was an incident with your son, and a governess," Audrey said, eyes darting between the men.
"Ah," the moustached one said, eyes falling firmly upon Audrey. "Are you the girl that stopped it?"
Audrey didn't answer for a moment, unsure exactly what she was supposed to do in this situation.
"How many French girls speak such perfect Russian, hmm Landa?" He suddenly said in perfect French. Landa's lips twitched a smile and the cat-like woman leapt to once again translate for her greasy, rat-like boss.
"It was you then, Mademoiselle?" The Russian diplomate asked.
She nodded quietly, suddenly deeply uncomfortable.
"Well…" he said calmly. "A merci is in order, is it not Mademoiselle?"
Audrey only blinked her response, feeling naked without the careful disguise that her Russian language granted her. She wasn't sure what the purpose of this was and her foggy mind could not work quick enough to keep her safe.
"Non," Audrey said, her voice caught in her throat.
"Non?" Landa interrupted.
"It's a…. A child," Audrey said, suddenly seized by such grief she felt faint. She gulped it back down, back into the growing pit of despair she knew was swimming black liquid in her stomach. She could feel it later. "How could you ignore a child?"
"One couldn't," the ambassador said, a soft smile cracking the edge of his mouth to see her look briefly emotional. She smiled weakly back, feeling rooted in place, suddenly hypersensitive to the attention upon her.
"Landa said you play the piano."
Audrey glanced to see Goebbels staring at her, furious to have not been the centre of attention for so many moments in a row.
Audrey blinked her response at the harsh German accent he had, his oily face cracking a nasty grin at her blank expression.
"French girls, always so stupid," he laughed, his face cracking into a wide grin. "You. Play. Piano."
Audrey nodded, feeling sick that she knew for a fact that she had never told him this, and that he had found out himself from nefarious means.
"I didn't know you played the piano," Zoller said, trying to keep the pure joy at learning some new private detail about her to himself.
"Not for a long time now," Audrey muttered in French.
"Play."
Audrey blinked a look to Goebbels, his beady eyes delighted at her discomfort. She gets the word 'no' tense her tongue but knows it was not an option in that moment.
She nodded, feeling suddenly defeated, this small act of humiliation somehow more severe and brutalising than the beatings she had received over the last few weeks. She flinched as she sat at the nearby piano, her ribs aching.
Audrey let her fingers touch the keys and closed her eyes, feeling a heavy memory fall upon her. She remembered her youth, her father's hands pressed to her shoulders as he taught her through her youth, his soft Luxembourg accent giving gentle praise and even more gentle criticism.
She let whatever she needed to play, play. She barely felt her own body perform whatever song it was, the soft tune not nearly as good or as clear like when she was younger, but it sounded more like music than noise, and she assumed that would be appeasing enough. She played it until it was finished, her fingers resting dutifully in her lap just as her father had taught her.
Deafening silence filled the room until a slow, sarcastic clap interrupted the lack of sound.
"Well done," Landa said. "Wunderbar." She hadn't announced what he played, but he knew what it was. It was Felix Mendelssohn's 'Spring Song', opus 62 number 6. A famed Jewish composer. Landa couldn't help but be impressed by her unrelenting ability to be resistant.
"Beautiful, beautiful Audrey," Zoller said, voice soft and hallowed.
She tried to turn to look at her small audience, but her ribs hurt, and she let out a little involuntarily hiss.
"Ahhhh," Goebbels laughed. "Landa, this is the girl that is bruised like a peach!"
"Ja Herr," Landa chuckled.
"What are they saying?" One of the Russians asked.
"They beat me," Audrey said quietly. "They think it is very funny."
"Animals," one of them muttered, glaring in disgust at them.
"Stop talking in that!"
Silence deafened the room and Audrey dropped her eyes at Goebbels vicious squeal ripping the space down the middle.
"May I lie down Herr Landa?" Audrey said quietly. "I'm still very tired."
"Of course, Audrey," he said, his voice slick with joy to hear her sound so broken. "Of course."
Audrey was quick enough to move to ensure that Zoller couldn't offer his support.
"It was lovely to meet you," Audrey whispered in Russian to the ambassador as she moved gracefully from the room, slowly closing the French doors behind her but not shutting. She glanced to see him give her a twitch of the smile.
Audrey had no intention of bed. She was planning to hide in the garden again but the figure in the entrance hall paused her just a step out of view of the open French doors of the reception room.
Dieter, the man who had been the person to put her whole nightmare into motion
"Halo," Dieter called, grinning with wolf-like delight to see her once again.
It was a moment like that that Audrey made split-second decisions that kept her alive. It was a foot back, just one, that put her back in line with the doors as Dieter stepped forward.
"How are you Frauline?" He asked, grinning at her.
"Well," she said, her throat taught. "Tired, I've been excused to sleep-"
"Of course," he said with a smile that made her blood run cold. "Who will be escorting you to your room?"
"Moi."
He laughed at her, lighting a cigarette quietly as he looked her up and down once more.
"Zoller has got fond of you, hasn't he," he said lowly. "Easy to see why, you're all sugar to him."
"He's in there," Audrey said with a little jut of her head to the door. "If you would like me to get him-"
"Nein, nein," he said, the smile crawling his face. "Just us, two is plenty of company."
"You don't like my company," Audrey said suddenly, her brazenness hitting her quickly.
"I'm sure I could find something I like-"
"You're a pig," Audrey growled out. It was something she had learnt to survive long ago, was to act with aggression, not passiveness. She saw the shock on his face for her turn, the glare she was giving was enough to make him look as though he'd spit at her.
"Watch your mouth-"
"Why?" She interrupted lowly, her eyes narrowing. "Why? You are a pig. A murdering, pathetic, dog, who comes when Landa whistles."
Landa of course could not hear the exchange, but he watched in silent delight in his room. The man had a hair-trigger temper, something that made him an excellent soldier but a terrible person. He could see them, the anger in both of their bodies, and he wished he could hear whatever poison Audrey had shot from her lips.
Whatever that last whispered lick of German was was enough to hit a nerve. He saw Dieter's hand fling up before thundering down and let himself smile ever so lightly to see Audrey not even flinch.
He watched through the lace curtains of the door, obscuring it just enough that the two-person play didn't draw attention from the rest of the room.
Audrey's spine was painfully stiff, which he knew meant she was in a survival space of mind. He watched her, unable to stop himself from smirking ever so slightly to see Dieter's hand shoot out and snatch the front of her dress. Her whole body shivered at the movement.
Landa liked how Audrey moved when she was hit. She was like a rag doll because she was so small. He remembered being very young in Austria and watching his older brother hang kittens from a tree in their village at their grandfather's behest. The kittens were so light that even when they twisted to survive the rope the rope didn't swing. It reminded him acutely of Audrey and how her body moved so extremely at such little touch.
It was a very hard smack, the initial impact loud enough to draw attention, followed by the flurry of gasps and growls as Audrey hurtled into the French doors, causing them to snap open as she skidded across the oak flooring.
The room seemed frozen in delighted surprise on the German side, and silent disgust on the Russian.
Landa saw her fragile hands sink against the floor in an attempt to push herself up, her eyes almost feral for a brief second as her blonde hair momentarily obscured her face, but not enough to hide the blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth.
Dieter, who Landa had often pondered must see himself as a wolf, when he was in fact, a dog. Specifically, a Rottweiler. He watched him, Dieter, so singularly focused on finishing the attack, seem to be momentarily oblivious that there was anyone else in the space apart from Audrey. Dieter stepped forward, one foot coming to collide with her ribs with such violence and velocity that Landa himself flinched to watch her whole-body jerk upwards for a second before collapsing down to the floor, causing a strangled cry to emerge from Audrey.
Landa watched Zoller rush to her without thought, forgetting his place at the bottom of the barrel in that room. He watched Dieter shake his hand out and step back, as though he had been in a true fight rather than simply backhanding and kicking a little woman. Audrey did something that Landa had come to expect and enjoy. She couldn't and wouldn't accept help. She pushed Zoller away without a thought, insisting in quick French she was ok. He watched blood dribble from the corner of her mouth, her cheek, lip, and eye glowing red. She was shivering ever so slightly, clearly disorientated from where her head had collided into the doors, and he could see the pain was clouding her eyes. She curled herself small, sitting down, her legs drawn up and her fingers shaking as she shook her head at Zoller repeatedly.
Landa had almost forgotten they were not keeping typical company when he heard them yell. Their harsh tones abolished Zoller, shoving the boy out the way and laying hands upon Audrey with an inarguable firmness.
Whatever they were asking in quick Russian she was nodding vigorously too, her head low and her jaw stiff.
Georbells was shouting now, yelling at the cat-like translator to hurry up and translate, to which she became increasingly flustered by, answering that she did not speak Russian, that she could not, that she was sorry.
"What are you saying!" He exploded at one of the tall men gently pulled Audrey to her feet, his face close to hers as they continued their confabulation in low spoken Russian tones.
"He is asking If she is ok," The ambassador called out, a cold fury on his face.
"She's fine," Dieter said in German, glaring at Audrey.
The little panther quickly translated, thrilled to be useful once more.
"She isn't fine," The ambassador said, fury simmering under his words. "She's bleeding."
Landa glanced over to see Audrey touch the corner of her mouth to see fresh blood with a wince.
"I'm sure it's a hot-tempered misunderstanding," Landa said with a charming smile. "Audrey, despite her little frame, has a very quick-fire temper."
"She's five-foot-tall," the ambassador said in a low tone, shaking his head. "Are your men all like this? Battering a little girl?"
"I'm sure she did something," Goebbels spat out after the translation met her ears.
"She's a Russian," The ambassador said. "Did you bring us here to disrespect a Russian in front of us?"
"No, no," Zoller said quickly. "Of course not-"
"She's bloody," the ambassador responded, his temper beginning to flare.
Landa paced to Audrey quickly and hid his surprise as the second large Russian stepped between him and her.
"It's ok," Landa said, bemused at the man's lack of respect or fear.
"Nyett," He responded flatly. Landa glanced to see the other Russian man continue to quickly speak at her. Audrey was sequentially nodding and shaking her head, understanding every clipped sound he did not, nodding gentle and sniffling softly. He watched her let herself cry the water that had collected in her eyes from the pain, not from actual upset, but she was a manipulator to her core and Landa watched her hide her fury in her blue eyes and replace it was exhaustion and anguish.
The ambassador was close to her by then, his hand coming up to cup the side of her head to inspect her bleeding mouth.
"I think she should leave with us," The ambassador said, eyes focused on Goebbels. Landa watched Zoller stiffen as the cat-like translator leapt into action, purring into her master's ear the Ambassadors suggestion which sounded more like a command.
"Not necessary," Landa said coolly, trying to deescalate the situation. "We will discipline our solider as necessary, and we apologise for the disruption-"
Audrey took a small step, but her legs gave out, the large ambassadors catching her as another strangled gasp left her. Landa, who had become very talented at tasting the differences in her deception found himself quietly furious at the sincerity of the action. She had attempted to step forward to speak and she looked genuinely embarrassed at her weakness.
"She is coming with us."
"Non, it is not necessary," Zoller begun.
"Non, non, she is a German occupation prisoner, for all intents and purposes-" Landa began, a blackness catching his gaze.
"Take her."
The voice cracked through the room and Goebbels glared across the room, tired by the tedious bickering over a little blonde girl that could tinker on the piano.
Landa went to speak but slowly closed his mouth, knowing better than to push it any further, given Goebbels flared temper, the greasy hair that had fallen loose from his greased hair.
"Merci," The ambassador said quietly, and Audrey translated it faster than the cat woman could, much to the woman's chagrin.
Audrey only looked at Landa amidst the chaos. The cold rage he possessed at being told what to do was tactile. If she could of, she would howl with laughter at him. At that moment, the Bastards, the plan, Eli, her life, none of it mattered. She wanted out. She wanted to be out of the house, where she lived under the breath of Zoller and the bruising grip of Landa. Here it was. Russian and familiar, a feeling of home, so long and so distant as a memory, suddenly real and touchable and real, a longing gripped her that meant she would drag herself to her nails were bloody to get to the house with her Russian counterparts.
Audrey didn't pack. The ambassador simply tipped his head towards the door and Audrey followed, her body supported by the large still unnamed Russian man. It had been so long since someone powerful was gentle with her Audrey was almost unsure how to accept the touch as they lead her free of the house. She didn't look back as they crossed the grand garden, or through the brass gates. She slipped into the waiting car, sat far from the ambassador in the luxurious vehicle.
She only turned back at the end to see him, Landa in the gateway, staring at her with a feral and unhidden hatred. She kept her face blank as he stared at her, before slowly picking up his hand, twisting his fingers to look like the shadow of a gun, and holding it to her as she drove away.
She couldn't help herself.
She smiled, ever so slightly, knowing he could still see her, and pulled her middle finger subtly on the far side of the car, her fingers pulling upward by her head, obscured for the ambassador but clear to Landa.
She saw his laugh turn manic, if only for a second as she mouthed 'fuck you.'
For the first time, in as long as she could remember, she smiled a true, genuine smile.
