Title: King For A Day, part 4/?
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Shosanna/Fredrick, Edwige Molyneux, mentions of Marcel, the Dreyfus family and the Zoller sisters.
Rating: R
Word count: 2,892
Summary: The war is over and it's the morning after. There is still much left to be said and unsaid between Shosanna and Fredrick.
Warnings: A Shosanna/Fredrick centric chapter, which after much mulling and writing, I felt they deserved it (especially after what I'm going to put them through in part 5). I suppose it's a tad fluffy, but again, they deserve it.


The story so far: | information/cast post | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 |






Shosanna was startled awake; she was disoriented, with her heart pounding in her chest and her mind screaming. For a moment, she was not certain of her whereabouts, as her internal clock was still in the routine of the previous four years - all of which was brought to an abrupt end the night before. As foolish as she realized it was, Shosanna nonetheless expected to find herself in bed within the sanctuary of Le Gamaar, with Marcel, ready to face yet another standard - though relatively safe - day. But the young man beside her changed all of that.

He had to stand apart from the others.

He had to be so genuinely kind.

He had to be so modest.

He had to come from a family who loved him and worried for him.

He had to be like her, trapped within their circumstance and terrified of an uncertain future.

He had to love her.

Out of all of the young women he encountered in his life, from his home in Munich and as an enlisted man traveling across Europe, it had to be her.

And she had to be so profoundly affected by all of it; by him.

Shosanna sighed.

She was not unhappy with this turn of events, of having survived that night, of being in this little inn, and laying beside Fredrick Zoller; a part of her, however, would always long to awake one morning in her bed, in her home, with her family. She wanted to be able to find herself at the head of that familiar staircase, to come downstairs and find her mother and father in the kitchen reading the newspaper; to find her Uncle Bob, reading that month's issue of Photoplay and to find her brother Amos, already distracted with the excitement of what was to come that day, playing with his porridge rather than eating it.

It was mundane at times, with her little brother being obnoxious as little brothers were prone to be and she would be at odds with her mother over the most miniscule details like teenagers do, but it was her life, her family, and she yearned to have it back. Shosanna suffered the irrevocable loss every waking minute and was not even afforded the luxury of being able to forget for a few hours each night.

Amos would be twelve by now. Uncle Bob would have most likely married that lovely bookstore owner, Judith.

She is most likely gone now, too.

And her parents would have continued to be happily married, and no matter where Shosanna would be at this point in her life - if their lives all remained untouched - would still love her.

If they had not been ripped away, she wondered, then would I have ever come to know Fredrick?

Shosanna knew that in all likelihood that she would not; he would become the German War Hero and Film Star and she would be miles away, having never come across Madame Mimieux, Marcel, and Le Gamaar. Without their chance meeting and her intervention, the war would rage on until, perhaps, the Allies would rise up and topple the War Machine; and Fredrick, War Criminal, would be killed. The Jewish Girl would live on, the young German War Hero would be dead and she would not mourn the loss; her heart would not break.

Still, she could not help but ponder the two of them meeting. He would know her, love her, as Shosanna Dreyfus. It would be a gradual courtship, consisting of dates to see the newest films from Danielle Darrieux and Humphrey Bogart; holding hands and stealing glances in the dark, with each evening ending with a kiss on the cheek. Then, one night, Shosanna would gather the collar of Fredrick's perfectly pressed dress shirt - such a polite, presentable young man - into her hands, pulling him down to her level, and she would close her mouth over his.

Upon breaking the kiss, they would both be left wanting for everything the other could give, and they would take of it, freely. Fredrick's well-groomed hair would be mussed, his shirt rumpled and unbuttoned, his belt hanging loose and his slacks undone. Shosanna's modest dress would be open and pooled at her waist, the skirt of it pushed up and gathered around her hips; one leg hitched up and around him, urging his body on and into her as one of Fredrick's hands grasped her hip and the other hand cradled the back of her head, her name on his lips and panted into her ear,

Shosanna, Shosanna…


Shortly after that night, Fredrick would meet her family. His nerves would get the better of him, and he'd run a hand through his hair as he gave them a crooked smile. Her parents would greet Fredrick warmly, taking him into their arms, embracing him as if he were one of them; immediately, they would adore the young man who loved their daughter so.

Shosanna would meet the sisters who dearly loved their baby brother; she would find herself underneath the scrutinizing eye of the oldest, Helga. The oldest Zoller would then give Shosanna that smile that ran in the family, and the rest of the sisters would follow suit, for they could easily welcome into their lives the young woman who loved their brother so.

Their families, the Dreyfuses and the Zollers, would be united harmoniously and lovingly. Shosanna and Fredrick would have their happily-ever-after, just as their childhood storybooks had promised.

Such a thing is still possible, she reasoned.

After all, the two of them had come this far.

It was early morning, about five a.m., from her estimation; estimating such things was part of her survival and had become a second nature.

Survive.

Surviving was all Shosanna had been able to do, day after day; what else was there for her, but to survive?

Vengeance.

He had changed all of that, showing up that night, emerging from the shadows and smiling brightly like a beacon and offering her the gift of her revenge in his hands; the only strings attached were the ones to his heart.

Curling back into Fredrick's side, Shosanna relaxed against him, taking in his features as he slept. He appeared even more boyishly sweet when at rest, a beatific smile upon his lips, his unruly hair brushed out of his eyes, which were closed tight and lined with dark lashes. She then trailed down to the contours of his body and fixated on the rise and fall of his chest. Though covered with a sheet, the power and strength of him could not be obscured. For as open and honest as Fredrick was with Shosanna, he was difficult for her to figure out. Fredrick was a boy, yet also a man; an innocent and a killer.

And he loves me.

Huddling closer, she took in the scent of him. He smelled of testosterone and faintly of cologne; remnants of the night before. Shosanna envisioned Fredrick as he prepared for the premiere, a bundle of raw nerves and excitement over what was to come as he fretted over every detail of his appearance. He intended to leave it all behind and he wanted her to join him. All Fredrick wanted was to return to his life as it was before this war began, before it destroyed families and forced boys such as he into being men. All Fredrick wanted was to carry on his life, as it was, uninterrupted, and he wanted to share it with Emmanuelle.

He still wanted the same of Shosanna.

He still wanted her.

He still loved her.

Pulling herself even closer, Shosanna nuzzled Fredrick's cheek and neck, noticing the feel, the contrast, of newly grown stubble and his boyish face. Breathing out against his skin, she watched as he stirred, and how, fast asleep, Fredrick's head turned to the side, facing her. Shosanna knew that in that moment, she could initiate whatever she desired to; to rip the sheet and the thin barriers of clothing from their bodies and straddle Fredrick, to finally feel what her mind, her body, wondered about and wandered to when she was alone in bed, when she was with Marcel.

But Shosanna could not.

Not just yet.

Being there with him was more than enough. Her body pressed tightly to his and her mouth mere centimeters from his own, Shosanna's eyes fluttered closed, every detail of his peaceful face committed to memory.

~

It was a few hours later when Fredrick awoke, with Shosanna nestled against him. He almost could have mistaken it all for a dream if it were not for the weight of her body, her soft breathing, and the restful beating of her heart. It was almost too much for Fredrick to bear; it was far too perfect, far too beautiful to be true.

And yet, it was.

Against all odds, they had survived. Out of a theater of over three-hundred people, it was the Jewish Girl and the German War Hero who survived that night, guided by both fate and each other.

Fredrick's chest tightened as he took in the sight of her: In the light of the morning sun, Shosanna was positively luminous; her pale skin practically glowed, and her hair, loosely tousled within the confines of her hairpins, was a golden halo. And her lips - which had been briefly and stunningly pressed against his last night - stained rose from her lipstick, were inviting.

Shosanna was breath-taking as she approached him in that dress - that red dress which fit her like a second skin, with her green eyes upon him; burning into him, piercing through to him, even under the cover of the veil.

Directing his eyes to the ceiling, Fredrick sighed and swore under his breath in German. He found himself inconveniently - though not at all uncomfortably - aroused from having Shosanna in such an intimate proximity to him. Carefully and reluctantly, Fredrick drew back from Shosanna, mindful not to wake her. Before excusing himself to the bathroom, Fredrick allowed himself one last admiring look at her sleek, sleeping form, which only served to further exacerbate his current predicament.

~

With warm sunlight pouring over her, Shosanna woke up to find herself in an empty bed. Sitting up, she turned to look over her shoulder to see that the bathroom door was closed, and she could hear Fredrick humming to himself. Lying back, Shosanna closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and stretched; as she exhaled, her body relieved itself of its tension.

Almost all of it.

Opening her eyes, Shosanna found herself gazing up at Fredrick, who now stood awkwardly beside the bed. Clad in his dress shirt and slacks from what was left of his uniform, Fredrick was now clean-shaven and his hair was neatly styled, save for those rogue forelocks. She did not even hear him re-enter the room, as he was conscientious of the fact that she had been asleep and did not want to disturb her rest. But now, the sheet that once covered Shosanna was strewn aside as she lay awake and sprawled out, revealing to Fredrick the sight of her body as her slip strained taut against every curve of her figure.

She knew she should have felt embarrassed, and that a sense of modesty should have overtaken her. She knew that she should have made every attempt to cover herself, to apologize to Fredrick in earnest and excuse herself to the bathroom to collect herself; but she did not.

Instead, Shosanna brought herself to slowly sit up. Fredrick found the act to be equal parts cinematic and erotic, for each motion was intentional on her part; the movement caused the strap of her slip to drop down her shoulder, revealing a little more of the top of her breast, and as she dangled her legs off the bedside, the skirt of her garment rucked up, exposing her pale thighs.

Holding his full attention, Shosanna locked eyes with Fredrick, regarding him with both curiosity and expectancy. But as he stood before her, clutching at his hands, his mouth set in a thin line and his body practically trembling in anticipation, she could sense his uncertainty at her motives. Yet as his impenetrable stare bore into hers, Shosanna was cognizant of that fact that even though Fredrick's own intentions were pure, his desires were not.

It was not fair, they both knew, as they were constantly engaging each other in a nearly dangerous seduction - a game of chase and retreat - ever since meeting that June night in front of Le Gamaar. Though both were fully aware that neither was yet ready for a consummation, they did not have to approach each other with such extremes, either. Her eyes on Fredrick all the while, Shosanna pushed herself off of the bed, bringing herself to stand before him, her posture indicating her own uncertainty at what was to become of them.

Without apprehension, but with consideration, Fredrick reached out a hand, and skimming his fingertips along the flesh of her arm with great relish, he re-adjusted the strap of her slip, sliding it back in place on her shoulder. Gasping at the contact, Shosanna kept her eyes trained on his face, which was set in concentration.

Without pause, Fredrick stroked his hand over her shoulder, along her collarbone, and up the length of her elegantly long neck to brush a tendril of hair back behind her ear. Leaving her sensitive skin fevered, a shiver coursed through Shosanna, and her breath hitched. In response, he carefully brought his hand to rest upon the side of her face, cupping her cheek.

A charged silence fell over them.

Wordlessly, her eyes pleaded, even dared Fredrick to continue.

Not wanting to deny her - or himself - he carried on. Tilting his head to the side, Fredrick observed her, gauging her reactions to his touches, as delicately, he traced the exquisite contours of her face. Every touch was deliberate as over and over, Fredrick caressed every curve, every angle, memorizing her every feature; he was exceedingly gentle, yet it was enough to leave Shosanna wide-eyed and tremulous. Unrelenting in his tenderness, Fredrick placed his other hand on the small of her back, ever so lightly, and closed the space between them.

Both could hear the thundering of each other's hearts, and Shosanna could feel his hardness against her. They knew they were not quite ready for that next step, yet neither would resist if it were to happen; knowing this only served to heighten their arousal.

Placing his hand underneath her chin, Fredrick tipped Shosanna's head up, granting him better access to her mouth, and her breath halted in expectation as he ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, applying the slightest bit of pressure. Then, reaching his hand behind her head, cradling it, Fredrick brought his mouth down to meet hers. Their lips brushed together and time stood still as they savored the feel and heat of the other.

Though the kiss was slight, it was not chaste. Within the contact was a certain power, an intensity; passionate and consuming, it threatened to overwhelm them. Shosanna reached her hands up, and fisting them into the material of his dress shirt, she sighed against his mouth.

Breaking the kiss, Fredrick moved his hands up to cup her face. Meeting each other's gaze, Shosanna opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, but no words came. There was much she had to say, but the words were not sufficient. Fredrick understood, and in an act of absolution, he placed a kiss upon her forehead; closing her eyes, Shosanna softened into him. His lips against her skin now forming into a smile, Fredrick wrapped his arms around her, drawing Shosanna into a warm embrace. Easing into him further, she reciprocated, burying her face into his chest.

In that moment, words proved unnecessary; a hindrance. Though there was still much left to be discussed between them, there was also much better left unsaid.

There they stood, moment after moment, sheltering one another.

Suddenly, the silence was broken as their door swung open, and there in the doorway, stood Edwige. Even dressed in a flowing, golden, floral-print sundress, she was a formidable force.

Startled, Shosanna and Fredrick broke apart, standing rigidly side-by-side.

With a lit cigarette in one hand, and her other arm wrapped around herself, Edwige looked them both over, a smirk upon her lips. Looking to the young woman,

"Shosanna Dreyfus- "

The older woman then paused to take a drag off her cigarette. Exhaling, she then turned to the young man,

"Fredrick Zoller."

His eyes went wide, his blood ran cold, and he immediately felt dizzy.

Is this how it ends?

But he refused to break down, even though internally, he was falling to pieces. Like the trained soldier that he was, Fredrick composed himself; standing tall, shoulders back, his jaw clenched. Holding his head high, Fredrick stepped forward, shielding Shosanna; her heart dropping, she steeled herself for their sake.

Edwige smiled broadly at them, which only put the couple even more ill-at-ease.

"I merely request the presence of you both to engage with me in a lively discussion about the end of the war. After all, torching the entire Third Reich deserves much commendation."

Shosanna and Fredrick stood stock-still, their expressions frozen in disbelief.

Taking another drag off her cigarette, Edwige's eyes brightened and her smile widened even more,

"I shall also be serving brunch."