What A Waste Of Army Dreamers.

Text ID: Jacqueline, we're pushing further into
Austria tomorrow. I thought there might be more beer. Off to kill some nazis / if they don't kill us. Whatever happens I want you to stay in Brooklyn. I need you to be there / If / When I get back / I'll see you soon?? /
I want to go home / I miss you, Yours.

From — War Letters From A Long Lost Soldier,
Sergeant James Barnes ( September, 1943 )

War is a slippery slope.

What would you do? Becomes, what will you do? Becomes, my god, what have you done?

It was a wet nurse who sealed her fate. So powerless a figure and yet her small act of defiance changed the path of the Scully family history forever. None could have foreseen the turn of events she would initiate by letting the baby cry. Such an innocent sound and so loud.

My birth must have been a vast disappointment, she thinks from time to time. Perhaps only second to her life up until this point. The displeasure of her existence is shared by many but none more than herself. She still hears tales about it to this day. A vague story of her underwhelming entry into the world looms over her.

An icy rush of air, a freezing slipstream on the newly exposed skin. A baby was, with no warning, outside the inside and the familiar wet, tropical world had suddenly evaporated. Exposed to the elements. A prawn peeled, a nut shelled. No breath. All the world come down to this. One breath. Little lungs, no wind in the strangled pipe. Panic. The drowning girl, the falling angel.

Big dewdrop pearls of sweat on the mother's skin, a horse nearing the end of a hard race. She'd thought the birthing pains would stop once the baby was out but her belly was pierced by the same excruciating tightenings as in labour. This was some trickery of the female form, kept secret from young women. Sylvie Márgrég Scully imagined she would conduct proceedings like a parade-ground sergeant-major. The baby was early. She was expecting it to be late. The best-laid plans, and so on.

"Oh, ma'am," the midwife cried suddenly, "she's all blue, so she is."

Through her blurry vision, the mother had to squint to see anything through the stream of sunlight. It was very clever the way the baby stood in the halo of luminosity.

Sylvie reached out her hands, the unspoken plea on her lips. "A girl?"

Apparently they were sure she would be a boy, so sure that when Jacqueline came out, she was nameless for a week.

"The cord's wrapped around her neck. Oh, Mary, Mother of God. She's been strangled, the poor wee thing."

"Not breathing? Let me see her."

The little heart. A helpless little heart beating wildly. Stopped suddenly like a bird dropped from the sky. A single shot. "Oh, she's gone. Dead before she had a chance to live. I'm awful, awful sorry. She'll be a little cherub in heaven now, for sure."

Any baby who came into the world in this family knew the iron tang of tears before they ever knew the taste of mother's milk. Blood banded with madness, like the deep striations of winter. Because they were all madmen, everyone knew that; every one of them swaggering and wild-eyed and savage as wolverines.

All the same, came from whispers in the village. They all go bad.

And just this once, a mother desperately wants to be proven wrong. The first star shone beyond the glass-panelled window. Sylvie took a deep breath and silently offered a prayer to the heavens. She does not wait for an answer. God is always silent. And she will not shirk her responsibility. She does not blame God. Nor does she believe, like some, that this is divine retribution. This is not God's doing. This is not God's work. It is hers.

Sometimes there is no space, so one has to make a space, to carve it out in order to keep alive. And it is the same rule with life; if there is no space for you, then you must create it.

A cry. Rageful, selfish, mad. Jacqueline decides, if she is to scream, let it be in battle. There is no chance for peace except at the point of a sword. As a woman she can't get much else, even those feelings open her up to judgment, so she will wear the anger she is afforded like sparkling armor. She will flaunt it like a birthright.

So, for her redemption, God gives her a chance.

God was listening. Into His ear, she prayed. That is, she told Him: I, Jacqueline, will return. All prayers are wishes, but this is not a wish. It is a promise. A hundred years from now, the sound of her name will still make men shake, though her own people will look upon her tenderly, with pride. Before each battle, the foot soldiers, artillerymen, and sappers will bend their heads and call her name.

They will say, Lady Liberty Of War, give me strength and courage, and she shall hear them, wherever she is.

Must she never die.

Lady Liberty Of War,
as described 〳 jacqueline brighid 'birdie' scully

⚔︎

The Wardog,
as described 〳 james buchanan 'bucky' barnes

( 𓍝 )

Bernard De Bousquet,              Mel Gibson.
William Carrion Armstrong, Cillian Murphy.
Edmund Malachy Scully,    Louis Hofmann.
Doireann Honora Scully, Saoirse Ronan.
Ronan Aemon Leinster,              Sam Heughan.
Sylvie Márgrég Scully,               Caitriona Balfe.
Additional Characters As Described.

Disclaimer/Warning;This book is a work of fiction; names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. A warning will be placed at the top of each chapter when needed. The book will contain sensitive content such as: misogyny, war themes, gore, violence, self destructive behaviors, nazism, torture, sexual harassment, vulgar language, blood, emotional abuse, mild sexual content, death, mentions of grief, depictions of mental illness, domestic abuse, strong language, human experimentation, trauma, sex/mentions of it and nudity.

Read at your own discretion.

Copyright. I do not own the Marvel Universe or any of its characters, all rights belong to the respective owners. However I do, take credit for for all my original content within this story. I've spent ages racking my brain over a faceclaim for Bucky, so if anyone decides to use it, kindly give me proper credit. No part of this book may be stolen, reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means. (Or at least without prior written permission from the author.) Thanks for respecting the hard work that went into bringing this story to life!

AUTHOR'S NOTE.     ( perhaps a very long one . . . )

⠀⠀𓁍 ⠀⠀And scene! Welcome back everyone to Soliloquy Prayer for the umpteenth time. This one is the first book of the series, and I can't tell you how excited I am to finally share it with you. It will diverge from the overall plot here and there which is technically why I would classify as an "au"??? although I don't like to use that term loosely here; so lets call it fix-it fic. There are other plots that are gonna be woven together and since many of the characters in my opinion were not sufficiently fleshed out to the bone in the film adaptation, I will take justice into my own hands. If there is any grammatical errors, please don't be afraid to tell me.

I wanted to take a moment to clarify something, even if it might seem a bit obvious. Jacqueline is at the very core of this book. Everything that unfolds in these pages is intricately connected to her in some way. She's not just a character; she's the heartbeat of the story, and it all revolves around her in one way or another. You'll notice that some chapters are dedicated entirely to her or focus heavily on aspects of her life and experiences. This wasn't an accident. Her journey is central to the narrative, and I wanted to give her story the depth and attention it deserves. However, this does not diminish the significance of the other characters you will encounter. Each of them plays a crucial role, contributing to the richness and complexity of the story.

Yet, amidst all this, the story always returns to her.

⠀⠀𓁍 ⠀⠀As for Jacqueline, sigh. She's just like you and me. Drawn equally to tradition and progress. Content and yet the carrier of dreams. Though romance is a thread throughout the book, it was the friendship that intrigued me most as this story developed. I was very excited to incorporate letter writing as that medium has had a profound impact on my life. Long before words on a screen became poor substitutes for those in ink, it was through those letters that I discovered places beyond my own borders and made friendships that helped me through rough years. Though none of them were of a romantic nature, I do believe that true and deep friendships can develop through such a format. And I believe love, too, can emerge. Pen and paper provide an anonymity that, ironically, best allow us to reveal our truest selves.

In 1940, America must have been full of women like her. An Irish Immigrant former medical student. Who took courses in physics, chemistry, biochemistry and mathematics and obtained a 1st class honours. Who after completing everything but her dissertation, she earned a phd as an aspiring biophychemist. Who wanted more than anything to continue her science practice; to start her own laboratory midwife practice in the hopes of eventually finishing her second degree and opening a women's college. But gentlewomen had to turn their education to governess work or whatever genteel occupation they could find on the fringes of aristocratic society. In this case Jacqueline started working on a post in a barrister's office; addressing envelopes and filing papers and typing the occasional letter in french to earn some money for tuition. but unlike the others, she did not content herself with nursing, bandage rolling, or traditional feminine war work. (Which is equally valid, don't get me wrong)

She wanted to fight, and what a fight it was.

Jacqueline turned her feminity into an asset, she weaponized what was seen as a weakness and used it against those who would underestimate her. I'd never read any story in which it was a woman who went off to war, who stepped onto a battlefield and was not only treated as an equal, but was revered and respected as a fearless leader. I have never come across such a bold, bawdy, brazen woman.

And so I knew, the way I always know, that I had found my next protagonist. When I think of a nuanced female character, Jacqueline is the very first to come to mind. I was captivated while writing her, sucked into the complex web of the integrating nature that I was able to create. Unafraid to assert herself and raise her voice. Her foul-mouth quips and take-no-prisoners mentality are exactly what I wanted in a female protagonist. She is completely unique and a little bit crazy. And by crazy, I mean an absolute maverick. The type of character that takes an otherwise good novel to great heights. There will never be another like her in my opinion.

⠀⠀ 𓁍 ⠀⠀ To all readers — both new and returning —thank you for being here. You're one of the main reasons why these characters have come to life and why their stories are being told. Whether you're stepping into this for the first time or revisiting it with fresh eyes, I hope you find something here that resonates with you. Please don't become a silent reader. ( Barrage me with any comments or questions whenever you like. I can't promise to answer anything spoiler-ish, but for anything else questions/discussion = motivation! ) Thank you for being a part of Soliloquy Prayer. With heartfelt gratitude:

bye, for now !
gia.

cover made by: bayports.

02 / 09 / 23 → TBA
© DANCEFEVERS