The Black King, chapter 3
Mar. 6th, 2021 12:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scripsiTitle: The Black King
Fandom: The Queen’s Gambit
Rating: Mature
Chapters: 3/?
Word Count: 1641
Characters: Beth Harmon, Vasily Borgov
Pairings Beth Harmon/Vasily Borgov
Warnings: None so far. As this is a work in progress it may change.
Summary: In November 1989 the Berlin Wall fell. In December 1991 the Soviet Union was dissolved. And in March 1992 Beth Harmon went to Russia to look for her past.
This fic can be read as a standalone, but it is written as a sequel to Taking the White Queen.
The fic on AO3
Borgov said nothing else for a few minutes, and Beth didn’t try to hurry him. Had she waited this long for an explanation, she could let him take the time he needed. She had not, however, expected what he said next.
“Have you heard of the Siege of Leningrad during the war?”
Beth frowned. “Yes. But I don’t see-”
“Bear with me, please.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his jaw. “It was hell for over two years. After only a month, most of the food was gone. The water pipelines were bombed, so even clean water was scarce. During the winter there was no fuel; we burned everything that could burn to keep warm. My first chess set burned. It didn’t matter; you can play chess in your mind, or with pebbles and stones. Everyone starved, everyone froze. Death was everywhere; there was not a family that didn’t suffer losses. Even so, the people of Leningrad endured, and the city didn’t fall.”
As he spoke, Beth’s mind conjured up an image of a teenage Borgov, his face hollow from hunger, but with eyes still determined to survive. Losing not an option, indeed. The war had always been an abstraction for her, something which happened before she was born. This was the first time she became consciously aware that for Borgov it hadn’t just happened during his lifetime, but something he had been in the middle of. She wondered who he had lost, and it made her realize how little she knew about his life. She wanted to apologize, though she didn’t know what she should apologize for. Being too young to remember, perhaps?
“Some left Leningrad after the siege was lifted. Too many terrible memories, too much loss, but I stayed. It’s my home, and I couldn’t leave it. I never considered defecting, because I couldn’t stand the thought of never returning. Chess I carry with me wherever I go, but to come home is my anchor. I cannot be lost because I’ll always have it.”
Borgov looked at Beth. “Do you understand me?”
Beth thought of the things she had which grounded and supported her. Jolene and her family, which had become her family too. Her little house in Kentucky which she hadn’t lived in for years, but it was still here, still hers if she ever wanted to again. The graves of Alma and Mr. Shaibel which she always visited when she was back home. Though they were long gone, those visits always brought back everything they had given her.
“Yes,” she said. “I do. But why are you telling me all this?”
“Because I hope it will make it clearer for you why I acted as I did.”
“I think I figured out some of what happened. You were found out.”
“Yes.”
“And they forbid you to see me again.”
“Eventually, yes. At first, I was questioned and suspected of wanting to defect. It was- unpleasant.”
Beth felt a chill going down her spine. ”Did they hurt you?”
Borgov gave her a quick glance, then he smiled.
“No, not at all. But in order to convince them I wasn’t planning to leave for your sake, I had to make them believe you meant nothing to me. I had to talk about you in a manner no woman should be spoken of. And I had to laugh at their lewd jokes and comments about your character and person. It was demeaning and ugly and deeply unpleasant for my pride and sense of propriety, nothing else.”
But Beth saw how he squared his shoulders as if his body remembered more than he was willing to tell her, and she looked away so he wouldn’t see what she had noticed.
“Did they believe you?”
“In the end. At least they acted as they did. The men questioning me were middle-aged men themselves and they could readily believe I had only slept with you because you were young and beautiful.”
Borgov smiled, but it was more a grimace than anything else. “They only saw the surface and their own prejudices. They wanted to see you as a decadent American with a depraved lifestyle, so that was what they saw. And me for a fool, so blinded by lust I had failed to see the consequences. Then I was asked to turn you instead. They were not happy with me when I refused.”
She stared at him in surprise. “Why did you do that?”
“Would you have come?”
“I think so.”
“And that’s why I didn’t ask.”
“I don’t understand.”
Borgov leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at her intently. “I know it sounds like I didn’t want you with me. Believe me, for my sake, for my selfish pleasure, I wanted to ask you. But though this is my country, and I love it, I’m not blind to its faults. The rules and regulations can chafe, even when you have lived with them your whole life. For someone born to another kind of life, it can be a straitjacket. You were never one to obey without questions. And had you come here, you would have been watched, and you would never have been trusted.”
“And you think I couldn’t have learned to adapt to that? I don’t think I would have cared, as long as I had what was important.”
He smiled. “Chess and love?”
Beth nodded mutely.
Borgov sighed. “Yes, I think you could have learned to live here; you are resilient and resourceful, not to mention stubborn. But you would have come, thinking they would treasure your talents, because you are a chess player without comparison, and you know that.”
“What do you mean? That I would have been forbidden to play chess?”
“Oh no; but you wouldn’t have been allowed to choose which tournaments. You wouldn’t have been trusted to travel abroad, and you would definitely not have been allowed to play for the World Championship. An American woman beating a Russian man- they desperately wanted to prevent that. Foremost, you were a threat that needed to be neutralized. And after, then your value here would not have been as a chess player, but as a trophy; a price stolen from the West. I was watched; any contact between us would have been orchestrated and monitored, and I wouldn’t have been allowed to tell you the whole truth. How long would it have taken you to resent me for trapping you? And it would have been a trap; there would have been no way back for you. And Beth, you know better than I, to what you would have turned, had all the other exits been closed for you.”
Beth closed her eyes. She had felt upset when Borgov talked, furious even. For a moment she had struggled to not scream at him and storm out of the apartment. But she had waited too long and traveled too far, to allow her first impassioned feelings to dictate her actions. Now she tried to look at the facts, pushing her feelings away. Would she have defected if he had asked her? Yes, she thought so. Beth, barely twenty-three and heads over heels in love, would have seen the romance in it, the big gesture in giving up everything to be with him. What it would actually mean to move to another country with another language and culture was only something abstract for her then. Now she knew, and though she loved living in France, it hadn’t always been altogether easy, and she knew one reason it had worked out was that she knew she could always pack her bags and go back home.
And going to the Soviet on false premises. Well, she wouldn’t have had any chance at all. Her sobriety had been hard-won and was still a struggle, and she knew she would never have succeeded had she not had her ambition to be the best of the best, and the love and support of her friends. She could see why Borgov had felt the need to talk of what his city meant for him, and the importance of something to fall back on.. Cut off from everything that anchored her, alone in a new country, alcohol would have been her only solution, and there would have been nothing left to save her.
And she understood why Borgov had declined to make her defect. Suddenly a new thought struck her, and she opened her eyes.
“You didn’t really choose to retire, did you?”
“No, they forced it upon me. It would have been bad politics to go after the World Champion. However, misbehaving chess players who refuse to cooperate, and lose their title as a result, that was another matter.”
Beth could hear the anger in his voice. Vasily Borgov had been undefeated but for her; he had still been an outstanding chess player. Still one of the very best in the world, and still the best one in the Soviet Union. She wondered if those who had punished him like that had realized how cruel it was.
“I hope you didn’t have more trouble because of me.”
Borgov smiled a genuine smile this time. “No. Life has been rather uneventful, but not bad.”
“I’m glad.”
“And are you satisfied with my explanation?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Beth didn’t know what to say more than that. She felt strangely empty; she had never really thought she would come this far, that she would actually get an explanation of what had happened. What was she supposed to do now? What did Borgov want? That she should leave, or stay? She took a sip of her cooling tea, to give herself a little time. But before she could decide, Borgov made it for her.
He stood up and gave her his hand. “Let’s play chess.”
Fandom: The Queen’s Gambit
Rating: Mature
Chapters: 3/?
Word Count: 1641
Characters: Beth Harmon, Vasily Borgov
Pairings Beth Harmon/Vasily Borgov
Warnings: None so far. As this is a work in progress it may change.
Summary: In November 1989 the Berlin Wall fell. In December 1991 the Soviet Union was dissolved. And in March 1992 Beth Harmon went to Russia to look for her past.
This fic can be read as a standalone, but it is written as a sequel to Taking the White Queen.
The fic on AO3
Borgov said nothing else for a few minutes, and Beth didn’t try to hurry him. Had she waited this long for an explanation, she could let him take the time he needed. She had not, however, expected what he said next.
“Have you heard of the Siege of Leningrad during the war?”
Beth frowned. “Yes. But I don’t see-”
“Bear with me, please.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his jaw. “It was hell for over two years. After only a month, most of the food was gone. The water pipelines were bombed, so even clean water was scarce. During the winter there was no fuel; we burned everything that could burn to keep warm. My first chess set burned. It didn’t matter; you can play chess in your mind, or with pebbles and stones. Everyone starved, everyone froze. Death was everywhere; there was not a family that didn’t suffer losses. Even so, the people of Leningrad endured, and the city didn’t fall.”
As he spoke, Beth’s mind conjured up an image of a teenage Borgov, his face hollow from hunger, but with eyes still determined to survive. Losing not an option, indeed. The war had always been an abstraction for her, something which happened before she was born. This was the first time she became consciously aware that for Borgov it hadn’t just happened during his lifetime, but something he had been in the middle of. She wondered who he had lost, and it made her realize how little she knew about his life. She wanted to apologize, though she didn’t know what she should apologize for. Being too young to remember, perhaps?
“Some left Leningrad after the siege was lifted. Too many terrible memories, too much loss, but I stayed. It’s my home, and I couldn’t leave it. I never considered defecting, because I couldn’t stand the thought of never returning. Chess I carry with me wherever I go, but to come home is my anchor. I cannot be lost because I’ll always have it.”
Borgov looked at Beth. “Do you understand me?”
Beth thought of the things she had which grounded and supported her. Jolene and her family, which had become her family too. Her little house in Kentucky which she hadn’t lived in for years, but it was still here, still hers if she ever wanted to again. The graves of Alma and Mr. Shaibel which she always visited when she was back home. Though they were long gone, those visits always brought back everything they had given her.
“Yes,” she said. “I do. But why are you telling me all this?”
“Because I hope it will make it clearer for you why I acted as I did.”
“I think I figured out some of what happened. You were found out.”
“Yes.”
“And they forbid you to see me again.”
“Eventually, yes. At first, I was questioned and suspected of wanting to defect. It was- unpleasant.”
Beth felt a chill going down her spine. ”Did they hurt you?”
Borgov gave her a quick glance, then he smiled.
“No, not at all. But in order to convince them I wasn’t planning to leave for your sake, I had to make them believe you meant nothing to me. I had to talk about you in a manner no woman should be spoken of. And I had to laugh at their lewd jokes and comments about your character and person. It was demeaning and ugly and deeply unpleasant for my pride and sense of propriety, nothing else.”
But Beth saw how he squared his shoulders as if his body remembered more than he was willing to tell her, and she looked away so he wouldn’t see what she had noticed.
“Did they believe you?”
“In the end. At least they acted as they did. The men questioning me were middle-aged men themselves and they could readily believe I had only slept with you because you were young and beautiful.”
Borgov smiled, but it was more a grimace than anything else. “They only saw the surface and their own prejudices. They wanted to see you as a decadent American with a depraved lifestyle, so that was what they saw. And me for a fool, so blinded by lust I had failed to see the consequences. Then I was asked to turn you instead. They were not happy with me when I refused.”
She stared at him in surprise. “Why did you do that?”
“Would you have come?”
“I think so.”
“And that’s why I didn’t ask.”
“I don’t understand.”
Borgov leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at her intently. “I know it sounds like I didn’t want you with me. Believe me, for my sake, for my selfish pleasure, I wanted to ask you. But though this is my country, and I love it, I’m not blind to its faults. The rules and regulations can chafe, even when you have lived with them your whole life. For someone born to another kind of life, it can be a straitjacket. You were never one to obey without questions. And had you come here, you would have been watched, and you would never have been trusted.”
“And you think I couldn’t have learned to adapt to that? I don’t think I would have cared, as long as I had what was important.”
He smiled. “Chess and love?”
Beth nodded mutely.
Borgov sighed. “Yes, I think you could have learned to live here; you are resilient and resourceful, not to mention stubborn. But you would have come, thinking they would treasure your talents, because you are a chess player without comparison, and you know that.”
“What do you mean? That I would have been forbidden to play chess?”
“Oh no; but you wouldn’t have been allowed to choose which tournaments. You wouldn’t have been trusted to travel abroad, and you would definitely not have been allowed to play for the World Championship. An American woman beating a Russian man- they desperately wanted to prevent that. Foremost, you were a threat that needed to be neutralized. And after, then your value here would not have been as a chess player, but as a trophy; a price stolen from the West. I was watched; any contact between us would have been orchestrated and monitored, and I wouldn’t have been allowed to tell you the whole truth. How long would it have taken you to resent me for trapping you? And it would have been a trap; there would have been no way back for you. And Beth, you know better than I, to what you would have turned, had all the other exits been closed for you.”
Beth closed her eyes. She had felt upset when Borgov talked, furious even. For a moment she had struggled to not scream at him and storm out of the apartment. But she had waited too long and traveled too far, to allow her first impassioned feelings to dictate her actions. Now she tried to look at the facts, pushing her feelings away. Would she have defected if he had asked her? Yes, she thought so. Beth, barely twenty-three and heads over heels in love, would have seen the romance in it, the big gesture in giving up everything to be with him. What it would actually mean to move to another country with another language and culture was only something abstract for her then. Now she knew, and though she loved living in France, it hadn’t always been altogether easy, and she knew one reason it had worked out was that she knew she could always pack her bags and go back home.
And going to the Soviet on false premises. Well, she wouldn’t have had any chance at all. Her sobriety had been hard-won and was still a struggle, and she knew she would never have succeeded had she not had her ambition to be the best of the best, and the love and support of her friends. She could see why Borgov had felt the need to talk of what his city meant for him, and the importance of something to fall back on.. Cut off from everything that anchored her, alone in a new country, alcohol would have been her only solution, and there would have been nothing left to save her.
And she understood why Borgov had declined to make her defect. Suddenly a new thought struck her, and she opened her eyes.
“You didn’t really choose to retire, did you?”
“No, they forced it upon me. It would have been bad politics to go after the World Champion. However, misbehaving chess players who refuse to cooperate, and lose their title as a result, that was another matter.”
Beth could hear the anger in his voice. Vasily Borgov had been undefeated but for her; he had still been an outstanding chess player. Still one of the very best in the world, and still the best one in the Soviet Union. She wondered if those who had punished him like that had realized how cruel it was.
“I hope you didn’t have more trouble because of me.”
Borgov smiled a genuine smile this time. “No. Life has been rather uneventful, but not bad.”
“I’m glad.”
“And are you satisfied with my explanation?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Beth didn’t know what to say more than that. She felt strangely empty; she had never really thought she would come this far, that she would actually get an explanation of what had happened. What was she supposed to do now? What did Borgov want? That she should leave, or stay? She took a sip of her cooling tea, to give herself a little time. But before she could decide, Borgov made it for her.
He stood up and gave her his hand. “Let’s play chess.”
