Anghraine

Hey everyone! It's nearly 11 PM on January 31st and I'm sick, but I threw words on the page until I had something to show for it for challenge #11 specifically:

In your own space, create a fanwork. Now, a fanwork is anything that you, a fan, creates. Fic, icons, and filling sparkly requests from your fellow snowflakes’ wishlists absolutely fit the bill. But really, your creation can be anything! Draw something, paint something, compose an ode to your current favorite movie. Whittle something to represent your fandom from a bit of driftwood or model it in clay and matchsticks or legos! Whip up a song about your favorite trope or concoct an interpretive dance number for your OTP. Bake some cupcakes and decorate them in homage to your favorite TV show or author. The possibilities are endless. Whatever means of self-expression tickles your fancy right now, embrace it! But most of all - have fun!

I thought of doing something simpler or easier but ... no, instead I word vomited the entire prologue to the Commander Elizabeth Bennet P&P/Mass Effect AU into a GoogleDoc. It's largely unedited but here it is!

Prologue

Elizabeth Bennet knew what people called her behind her back, whether they were Alliance or not.

The butcher of Torfan.

They didn’t understand. Nobody did, really, not even Captain Gardiner, who’d defended her to the tribunal, or Major Massey, who’d ordered her to take Torfan at any cost and been honorably discharged later.

Elizabeth was resigned to that. When she could do something about a problem, she acted; when she couldn’t, she let it go. And she couldn’t do anything about the past.

Least of all when she didn’t regret it.

---

Mira Gardiner was a failure.

A failure with a case full of medals, to be sure. She’d served the Alliance—served humanity—for decades, and the Alliance had rewarded her with a stream of commendations and promotions. Nobody talked about her lost chance to do more for their species. Not in her hearing, anyway. Even she hadn’t really thought about it in years. No point in wasting time recollecting the details when there was work to be done.

The more amorphous sense of failure, though: that lingered. Especially on the Normandy.

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