Look At You, Strawberry Blonde || Youjo Senki

Sweet, Sorrowful Youth

Author's Note: HFWEIAHFIH I GOT INSPIRED AFTER READING A CUTE AF WLW FIC OF TANYA AND AN OC, SO I WANTED TO MAKE MY OWNN <33 Note that romance won't happen until a few chapters later, and even then it's definitely going to take a WHILE for Tanya to accept her feelings, as y'all know. Also!! I have NO IDEA how to write military strategies or anything like that, so if something sounds informal, just know I tried. (I rlly be making one fanfic after another and omfg I just have so many ideas I can't focus on one at a time.)

Edit 10/19/2024: HELLO!! I've been wanting to revisit this fic for a while now, and I've finally got the motivation and inspiration to do so, lmao. I've tweaked some things to match canon in the novel, so hopefully things are a bit more aligned to the timeline.

Warning: manipulation, abandonment, mention of depression

Disclaimer: Bruh, I don't own Youjo Senki: The Saga of Tanya the Evil, all rights go to the Carlo Zen!

Beginning...

Though the Empire and the Republic weren't officially at war yet, the shadow of conflict loomed heavily over the land. The Empire, once a place of prosperity, now saw its low class struggling under the crushing weight of poverty and famine. Areas like Magdalena Hohenheim's hometown were decimated by the scarcity of food and resources. Families, desperate to survive, fell into bankruptcy, and some even made the agonizing decision to send their children away to orphanages. In their eyes, it was a way to lessen the burden on themselves. Ironically, many of the children in these orphanages had heard the tale of Hansel and Gretel—a story of abandonment and rejection—a tale that seemed all too real for them now.

Magdalena, a young girl of seven, was one of these unfortunate souls. She could still remember the night her parents argued loudly, their voices raised in frustration and anger. It was a familiar scene, one she had grown used to as tensions in their small home rose with every passing day of hunger. She had curled up on her cot, trying to shut out the noise, but then the door to her room burst open, and there they were—her parents, standing over her. That night was a blur, but what Magdalena would never forget was her father grabbing her, dragging her into their dilapidated automobile, and driving her to the orphanage on the outskirts of town.

She screamed and cried, begging him to stop, but it was no use. He had made up his mind. And just like that, she was left there, sobbing on the doorstep. The orphanage's cold stone walls were a sharp contrast to the warmth she once knew. A kind sister from the church took her inside, trying to calm the terrified child, but Magdalena was too devastated to respond. She fell unconscious from the exhaustion of her grief.

When she woke, she found herself in a small room surrounded by children of all ages. Their faces were weary, and their eyes carried the same emptiness that filled her own.

She didn't belong here. She was not an orphan.

She had a family!

But now, she was nothing more than a discarded child, left behind in the wake of a world slowly unraveling.

For weeks, Magdalena shut herself off from everyone. She refused to speak, ate little, and spent most of her time curled in a ball, crying quietly in the dark. She couldn't understand why her parents had abandoned her, and the pain of rejection twisted deep inside her heart. Every night, she whispered into the void, asking God why this had happened, wondering why she had been forsaken. She had grown up with the practice of saying prayers before bed and supper, just as her parents had taught her. But now, those words felt like an empty mockery.

Sister Erika, however, refused to give up on her. With her kind smile and gentle words, she tried time and again to break through Magdalena's wall of silence. She called the young girl an "angel," complimenting her delicate, magenta eyes and her hair—golden with a warm reddish hue—standing out among the other children. Despite her beauty, Magdalena felt lifeless inside, like a doll with no soul.