Title: About Courage
Chapter: One
Characters: Reader and her family
Pairing: Blake x female Reader
Request: Not sure where to put this and idk if you have any use for this but I need to get this off my brain. I had this idea: the reader dressed up as a man to go to war instead of somebody from her family (Mulan-Style if you want) and Tom Blake finds out. Again, idk if you want to make it fluffy or angsty or if you want to use it at all. I just needed to get it of my mind and I like your writing/blog a lot so here you go. — anon
Summary: Two of your brothers already died during the Great War and you could see your mother getting sadder and more desperate every day. When your youngest brother is referred to as missing, you make the decision to go to France as well, to find him and bring him back home. But when you arrive, you soon realise you may have not thought it through. Acting like a man isn’t as easy as it sounds and Lance Corporal Blake is a lot smarter than most other men.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 2.642
A/N: I never planned on making a multiple chapter fic for 1917, but here I am. I will only post this on Tumblr so all I ask for is, that this fic won’t be reposted anywhere else. Also, this first chapter will only include the reader and her family. Just to explain how she got to France. Tom will appear in chapter two.
Special Thanks To: @rubinstein1798, who’s an amazing proofreader. I’m so glad you’re doing this.
Until the 28 July 1914, you were living a happy life. Your family wasn’t rich nor poor. Still, you had everything your heart desired. Worries seemed so far away that you would have never believed in the things that were about to come in the next following years. You were your parent’s only daughter. Then they were Harvey and Milton, your older brothers and Finley, your twin brother. You barley ever argued with them. Milton was a little annoying sometimes, but just in ways, every older brother was. Harvey was a nice man. One of the kinds every girl dreamed of. Cunning, kind and strong. He was intelligent but not as smart as Finley. Your twin was a very quiet person. You could nearly always find him sitting on the armchair in the living room, reading one of his many books. He and mum would spend hours sitting there in silence — him reading, her knitting. Your father spent a lot of his time at work. The only times you’d see him was in the late evenings and on Sundays. But he liked it that way. He loved his job and valued the time with his family even more than most other men who’d be at home more often than him. You always knew you had an extraordinarily beautiful family. There has never been a day on which you weren’t thankful for them.
But things changed on the 28 July, when you felt the ground falling from underneath your feet. As the war started your father was one of the first ones who had to leave to fight — alongside Harvey and Milton. It was a devastating day for all of you. You still remember your father’s pale face and the sadness in his eyes as he was caressing your cheek, telling you everything would be fine again and that he’d come back soon.
In March 1915 your mother received a letter. A letter which made her cry as she took the framed photograph of your father from the stack and vanished into her room. It was at this moment you and Finley realised your father wouldn’t come back. It took your mother three days to come back to both of you. She would still seem a little absent from time to time, but you never said a word about it. As always you let Finley and your mother sit quietly in the living room. The radio was silent for once. No one dared to turn it on.
It wasn’t until February 1916 when you received another letter. This time it was you the postman handed it over to. There was a sad look on his face. You didn’t want to know how many of these he had to hand out every day. Probably far too many. This time it was Harvey who didn’t make it. You were beginning to feel anxious. Milton was now the only one left. That meant until April when Finley would finally be old enough to leave home and to join the Great War. You couldn’t say these to words without sounding disparaging. There was nothing great about this war. Young men were dying every day and for what?
The day Finley had to leave was horrible. Your mother was screaming, crying, begging him not to go. She looked like she’s gone mad. It took all your strength to hold her back as Finley was joining seven of his classmates. The uniform didn’t seem to fit him. And he wasn’t wearing it with pride like the others. It hurt how much he reminded you of your father.
The following weeks seemed to be a lot longer than they used to before. Your mother barely ever spoke a word. She wouldn’t leave the house anymore, while you were strolling through the nearby forest more often. The feeling at home was oppressive. Being outside alone, breathing fresh air made you feel a lot better. Just cleaning your head until you’d go back to your mother. You felt like it made no difference if you were there or not. It was like your mother was gone as well. A huge part of her seemed to have died alongside your father and Harvey. So you wrote a few letters to your brothers, but they never responded. You weren’t sure if they couldn’t answer or if the letters simply didn’t reach them. You couldn’t wait for Christmas when both of them would come home for a few days. You missed them terribly. And you were just as worried as your mother. Maybe she’d feel better if she saw them again. Though you were already afraid of when she would have to say goodbye again.
But the war wasn’t kind to your family. In September 1916 it was Milton who lost his life at the German front line. And in November you received a letter saying that Finley was missing in action. You mother suffered yet another mental breakdown. It was worse than ever before. You hadn’t had the time to mourn Milton’s dead or to worry about Finley. To take care of your mother, so that she would eat and sleep and take the medicine she got from the doctor took all your strength. In the end, it was too much to handle and so you finally wrote a letter to your uncle.
Chester Thompson was your mother’s older brother. He was one of the few men who didn’t have to go to war. He was leading a big cloth mill. Of course, he delivered the fabric for the soldiers’ uniforms. That was his duty during this time of war and you know he was glad that he hadn’t had to leave home. After he received your cry for help he didn’t hesitate. He would send you and your mother a car that would bring you to London, where he lived in a mansion outside of town. He told your mother in a letter that it’d only be for Christmas and that she wouldn’t have to stay for long, knowing that otherwise, she would have declined his offer. The truth was, he was going to get her to stay longer than just a few days. If necessary until the end of the war. He loved his sister dearly and just wanted to make sure she’d feel better soon. That she’d be able to live on her own again.
It was Christmas eve and you were sitting in the living room with Chester and his son. Your cousin was a bit younger than you and Finley. Smaller and very thin, he still looked like a thirteen-year-old boy. But soon it was his turn to leave home to fight for his country. Just by looking at him everyone could tell he wouldn’t last long. You felt sorry for him, but there was nothing you could do to help.
“Your mother really doesn’t look well.” Chester broke the silence between the three of you while lighting his pipe. You finally looked up at him again. He was wearing an expensive suit, but he didn’t put much effort in his hair today since a few grey strands would fall into his face as he leaned over a bit. His hair was just as curly as your mother’s. “It was a wise decision to write to me. I haven’t heard from her in a long time. But you know me, (y/n). I’m not worried about something until I know for sure there’s a reason to fret.”
“Father always tried to make mother write to you, but she always refused to do so. She said you should be the one to speak first,” you explained with a tiny frown on your forehead. You haven’t seen your uncle a lot in all your life, so you always thought he and your mother wouldn’t get along. But a soft laugh escaped his lips.
“That’s exactly what has always been the problem between me and your mother. We’re both too stubborn to make the first move.” Sometimes adults made no sense. You couldn’t imagine not speaking to your brothers. You could be stubborn, too, from time to time, but not like this. You always tried to be as honest as possible. And if you missed your brothers, you told them. Just like you told them when they were being annoying. To not talk to them simply because you were waiting for them to talk first… That just sounded weird to you.
It was silent again. You looked away from your uncle to watch the snow falling outside the window. It looked beautiful. Was it snowing in France as well? You let your mind wander. You know it was possible that you lost everybody except for your mother and yet… “Ches? Do you think, Finley could still be alive?” you spoke quietly. If you wouldn’t have spoken to your uncle directly one would think you were talking to yourself.
Chester didn’t answer right away. He puffed on his pipe. Now he was the one frowning. Your cousin was moving on the couch as if he was feeling uneasy. You know it wasn’t a nice topic to talk about on Christmas. But hell, you should have been here with your brothers, your father… But they weren’t here. Even your mother prefered to go to bed early instead of spending some time with you. Yes, it made you sad, but you were also feeling anger. This damn war was destroying your entire life. You still didn’t know what you’d do if it ended. You never thought about a life without your family. All of this wasn’t meant to happen.
“Well,” your uncle began to speak slowly. “He’s missing in action, right? They didn’t find his body. He could still be alive. But…” Oh no. You didn’t like the word but at all in this case. “Where could he be? Maybe he ran away. You know, many young men flee from the war. Or maybe his body just hasn’t been found yet.”
“Excuse me, please.” It was your cousin who stood up at a pace that nearly made you jump. You looked at him through wide eyes. “I’m heading to bed. It’s late and I’m tired. Good night, father. Good night, (y/n). I hope you’ll sleep well.” And with that, he vanished into his room. Your uncle and you stayed silent until you heard a door being slammed shut.
Chester sighed. “You have to excuse Charlie’s behaviour. He’s not feeling well for a couple of weeks now.”
“He’s scared,” you stated. It wasn’t even a question.
“Yes, very much. He believes he will die as soon as he arrives in France. He… He-” Chester’s voice left him. The older man closed his eyes. You could feel his pain as if it was your own as you were watching him from your seat opposite of him. He was going to lose his only child. You knew he didn’t have much hope for him from the way he spoke about Finley. He was trying to be optimistic, but he couldn’t. Charlie was going to die in just a few weeks. The training at the barracks wouldn’t help him. Chester already told your mother in private that Charlie’s skills weren’t improving. As if his mind resisted learning something that could harm others. Charlie had one week left at home. Just one week.
Finally, you stood up as well. “I’m going to bed, too, uncle.”
It was a terrible 25th December. Yes, all of you were handing out Christmas Presents, but no one was as happy or joyful like it should have been. None of you got, what you really wanted. All four of you wished for things which were impossible to give. But you had an idea. A foolish one that could go awfully wrong, but… Maybe it could save your brother and Charlie’s lives.
Just as expected you stayed longer at your uncle’s place. One week passed and finally the day you were waiting for came. It was early in the morning and Charlie just went to the bathroom to get ready. You’ve seen him walking through the floor. His legs and hands were shaking. He was so scared. It would be a lie to say you weren’t, but you felt like you needed to do this. Not just for yourself, but also for the rest of your family. Chester and your mother went to church. Probably to pray for Charlie before they would have to come back to say goodbye. So it was just you and the boy.
Carefully closing the door to your bedroom, you sneaked over to the bathroom. Nobody seemed to have noticed the missing key you took the night before. Now you used it to lock Charlie up in the bathroom. You hated yourself for doing this, but otherwise, he’d probably stop you from following your plan. “I’m sorry,” you whispered to yourself, before walking away to get into your cousin’s room.
His uniform was spread out on the bed. It was clean and neat, ready to be worn. Your hands touched the fabric carefully. Were you really going to do this? You knew the risk. You knew it was going to be dangerous. And you had no training at all. But all you wanted to do was to find Finley. To make sure he was alright. And if your family would play along, it would give Charlie a little more time to stay at home. He wouldn’t have to die. You took a deep breath. You still could have changed your mind, but there was no going back for you. You needed to do this. You had to try. So you took on Charlie’s uniform. To your surprise, it fit you perfectly. You even managed to hide your breast by binding them. You also spend the night cutting your hair. It was short now. Looking into the mirror you found there was not much left of you. You looked like a boy now. And that’s exactly what you wanted.
A sudden and loud noise made you jump. It was Charlie. He was banging his fists against the bathroom door, screaming for help. Again you felt guilty for locking him up so you ran through the floor to talk to him. You knew you had to leave. Your mother and uncle would come back soon and you needed to be gone until then. “Charlie, I’m sorry,” you said as your hands touched the wooden door. “I can’t let you out.”
“What? Why?” Your cousin sounded like he was having a panic attack, which did not necessarily make this whole situation easier for you. The uniform felt just as heavy on you as the guilt.
“I’m going to find Finley. And… And you are going to have some more time at home,” you tried to explain, knowing what you said sounded insane.
“(y/n), what-”
“Just hide, okay? Don’t let anybody see you’re still here or we’ll both be in great trouble.” Your voice was shaking.
“(y/n), you can’t just-”
“Goodbye, Charlie… And good luck.” You let go of the door and turned your back on it as you were walking down the hallway to leave the house. You could hear Charlie screaming your name. He punched his fists against the door again, but it wouldn’t stop you. You were certain to do the right thing. You stopped abruptly in front of the chest of drawers. There was an old picture. It showed your uncle and your parents. Your mother was holding a baby. It must have been Harvey. You touched the cold glass of the picture frame. They all looked so happy. Your eyes filled with tears, but you didn’t allow yourself to cry. Charlie’s screams seemed far away. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whispered again before stepping out into the freezing cold.
If you look to others for fulfillment, you will never be fulfilled. If your happiness depends on money, you will never be happy with yourself. Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the world belongs to you.
