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Winter's Touch


This is the third time it has happened, and he still feels like a stranger in a stranger's body. Lilli kisses him, pulls him into her, and afterwards, she cries on his shoulder.

He supposes he should feel like a man now, or at least like a cad. He is seventeen, and the first time they undressed each other and lay together was the first time he ever touched a woman, and found his release in soft female flesh. The sexual act transforms a boy into a man, he was taught. He doesn't feel like a man. The woman he slept with is married, and twice his age, and he calls her husband by his Christian name and loved her son. That would make him a cad in anyone's eyes. He doesn't feel like one, though.

He just feels nothing.

Sometimes, there is a spark of viciousness in him that makes him want to hurt her (just as her uncaring attitude and dismissing words hurt her son), or him (why does he never come home when her perfect makeup is all smudged, her coifed hair in disarray, and her poise utterly lost? Why?). Sometimes, he wants revenge on them both so much he has to bury his hands under the pillow as to not send his boxer's fists into her face, and damage her as irreversibly as he feels himself damaged.

Damaged by the N.P.E.A. Allenstein, by Heinrich Vogler's words that seduced him away from home, by the teachers here, and finally by a pair of wide eyes, a soft smile and a helping hand that pushed him aside and remade his bedding in a flash before he could attract unwelcome attention again.

He loved his brother. He thinks he loved his mother, and possibly even his father.

He adored boxing.

Then there was Albrecht. Ever since then, there has been nothing else.

Lilli Stein touches his body, but nothing besides. Her tears leave him cold, and he has no comfort to give to a mother who lost her son.

He lost the boy he loved, and a piece of that winter day is lodged in his heart just like the shard of ice in the tale of the Snow Queen. He cannot cry either, and he has no sister to look for him and drag him back into the warm as did the boy in the tale.

He is alone, and feels Winter's touch encase him utterly.

Tomorrow, there will be blood and sweat and possibly pain. He doubts he'll feel much of it, though. He toys with the strange thought of stealing away into the night, naked, and letting the snow cover his body until he becomes part of the frozen wasteland around the castle.

Would he melt in the spring, he wonders? And would he even want to?


"Napola" ficlet by allaire mikháil, 1.473 words, Friedrich/Albrecht UST, Friedrich/Frau Stein het, Friedrich POV, rated R.

This ficlet is for ljxkatjafx and her "fandom of one". See, lji_am_schizo, it's easy, really! *g*
As for this fandom, I have certain ideological differences to certain points made by the movie's producers in the film, but I won't discuss them here. "Napola" was slashy enough, so go on, give it a try!
Just for the record, I'd like to point out that the Christian name of Albrecht's mother does not seem to be listed on any sites related to the movie, so I had to make it up. Somehow, she felt like a "Lilli" to me. Don't know why. Besides, sorry for inflicting het on you, but my muse insisted.
Beta'd by the speed of light by ljtemve who is far too nice to us not-almost-Brits. Thank you!


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