Fic: The Odyssey, xxx. klytaimestra
Warning: Mentions of torture.
--
“I am the war whore who denounced my husband.
He came back victorious with glory on his head.
He had helped conquer the creatures on a colony foreign;
he was gone seven years without missing my bed.
I fell in love with another-- and isn’t that blasphemous,
to love another when your husband’s honor is red.
It was the time of the purges, when mNoS was looking
for anyone, anything that might be suspect.
My husband the hero I hated as lover,
so I reported him to our Intelligence Sect.
It was happenstance that my lover made the arrest.
They tortured him, beat him, screamed thousands of questions,
accused him of having plans to defect,
brought false papers detailing a plot against mNoS,
said if he didn’t confess, he could only expect
death, dishonor, his erasure from record.
But in all this he held true, for my stupid husband
is loyal to tlhIngan to the point of blindness;
he was certain that this was a mistake, nothing less.
I watched when they brought the order from mNoS
for his execution-- he saw with his eyes
the seal of his dearest Great High Commander;
it was this betrayal that at last made him cry.
They shot him right there in that dark bloody cellar.
They hold trial, jury, judge with that table and chair.
My husband was not the first, nor the last to
see pleas for mercy met with indifferent stare.
Say what you will of me: that I am a cruel, cunning woman
that I should have never so terribly devised
the end to my husband, father of my children,
but I will say this to you in reply:
What do you do upon marrying someone
whose ideas about the world you have come to despise?
What do you do when you marry a general
who may be a hero but never sympathized
with his soldiers, his wife, his children, the actual
people whose lives his warmongering would effect--
What do you do when you marry an admiral
whose sole purpose in life is to conquer and wreck
everything-- everything-- for the glory of tlhIngan.
Perhaps you will say it was my error to elect
to marry this tlhIngan, that I should have rejected
his proposal. All choices are clear in retrospect.
But I have a weakness-- the same as my husband.
I love power and revolution. I loved changing systems.
I loved pure governance, to enact policies to better our mores.
It is an old story for intentions of revolution
to decay in the violence and process of time.
It was a story that I had not lived yet;
I have lived it now, ideals covered in grime.
Somewhere along, honor turned to war.
Somewhere along, the law became broken,
every act justified by some future ideal
‘After this battle, Qo’NoS will be peaceful;
After this traitor’s found, paradise will be healed;
After the planet’s uprooted to turn out the devils,
we can return to building our society of steel;
After one more victory and blood rimmed fear cycle,
our fates will return and our dreams will be real!’
I stopped believing. He never stopped.
I became selfish and found vengeance instead
that made life sweeter than any revolution,
that gave back some pieces honor painted red.
I denounced my husband, sent my own son to prison;
why shouldn’t I get something from mNoS’ paranoid pride
after years of watching everything turn to violence?
my youngest was silent, and for this, she survived.
But one day at home, my lover was not waiting.
He disappeared. I stayed up many nights,
smoking, ignoring the gnawing within me,
shivering at the thought of black coats and dim lights.
Illusions are costly, I cannot afford them.
Most days I forget in the details of life.
The hours portioned out with some easy calling--
the washing, the reading, the mending, a nap.
My son was redeemed from his prisoner sentence.
He and my daughter now hunt me to get back
some part of their youth, their own lost illusions.
I was not a good mother, I admit freely to that.
I’ve fled to this place where the silent are gathered.
They leave me alone, they despise me for my past.
But we are all nameless, faceless, unlisted
equally dead before law, so they do not attack.
There are some days I wonder, why didn’t I leave him?
Why go through the theater of the entire revenge?
Why not run away with my devoted lover?
What in all Qo’NoS was I trying to avenge?
You might say my illusions, but I know the answer:
I still had enough feeling to burn up with hate
I had to kill him. I had to see him broken.
I had to see that I had broken his fate.
His face at that seal is the one that stays with me--
not my lover’s smile, or his ecstasy.
those are quiet things that he gave to me, gentle.
I am defined by destruction, hatred, jealousy.
You feel sympathy for me. Your eyes make it clear.
Let me tell you something that will drive it away.
My husband was broken by the seal of his lover.
He and mNoS became honor-sworn in the war’s dark days.
After that time, they were closer than brothers,
and that is why I killed him, using his mate.
Let me tell you one more thing to complete my love story
I had three children, two daughters, one son.
My eldest daughter followed the command of her father.
One battle their unit was outnumbered, outgunned.
My daughter came back to me in five shattered pieces.
I learned what happened from a warrior returned,
who spoke high praise of her valour, courage, brilliance,
without being able to look me in my face.
I pressed the truth out of him.
My husband sent her on a suicide mission
sacrificing her life for mNoS’ embrace.
She would be four years older than you today, Captain.
Younger than Mr. Chekhov when she went into space.
Dead. We are caught in the Furies.
War wreaks vengeance on us all.”
--
--
“I am the war whore who denounced my husband.
He came back victorious with glory on his head.
He had helped conquer the creatures on a colony foreign;
he was gone seven years without missing my bed.
I fell in love with another-- and isn’t that blasphemous,
to love another when your husband’s honor is red.
It was the time of the purges, when mNoS was looking
for anyone, anything that might be suspect.
My husband the hero I hated as lover,
so I reported him to our Intelligence Sect.
It was happenstance that my lover made the arrest.
They tortured him, beat him, screamed thousands of questions,
accused him of having plans to defect,
brought false papers detailing a plot against mNoS,
said if he didn’t confess, he could only expect
death, dishonor, his erasure from record.
But in all this he held true, for my stupid husband
is loyal to tlhIngan to the point of blindness;
he was certain that this was a mistake, nothing less.
I watched when they brought the order from mNoS
for his execution-- he saw with his eyes
the seal of his dearest Great High Commander;
it was this betrayal that at last made him cry.
They shot him right there in that dark bloody cellar.
They hold trial, jury, judge with that table and chair.
My husband was not the first, nor the last to
see pleas for mercy met with indifferent stare.
Say what you will of me: that I am a cruel, cunning woman
that I should have never so terribly devised
the end to my husband, father of my children,
but I will say this to you in reply:
What do you do upon marrying someone
whose ideas about the world you have come to despise?
What do you do when you marry a general
who may be a hero but never sympathized
with his soldiers, his wife, his children, the actual
people whose lives his warmongering would effect--
What do you do when you marry an admiral
whose sole purpose in life is to conquer and wreck
everything-- everything-- for the glory of tlhIngan.
Perhaps you will say it was my error to elect
to marry this tlhIngan, that I should have rejected
his proposal. All choices are clear in retrospect.
But I have a weakness-- the same as my husband.
I love power and revolution. I loved changing systems.
I loved pure governance, to enact policies to better our mores.
It is an old story for intentions of revolution
to decay in the violence and process of time.
It was a story that I had not lived yet;
I have lived it now, ideals covered in grime.
Somewhere along, honor turned to war.
Somewhere along, the law became broken,
every act justified by some future ideal
‘After this battle, Qo’NoS will be peaceful;
After this traitor’s found, paradise will be healed;
After the planet’s uprooted to turn out the devils,
we can return to building our society of steel;
After one more victory and blood rimmed fear cycle,
our fates will return and our dreams will be real!’
I stopped believing. He never stopped.
I became selfish and found vengeance instead
that made life sweeter than any revolution,
that gave back some pieces honor painted red.
I denounced my husband, sent my own son to prison;
why shouldn’t I get something from mNoS’ paranoid pride
after years of watching everything turn to violence?
my youngest was silent, and for this, she survived.
But one day at home, my lover was not waiting.
He disappeared. I stayed up many nights,
smoking, ignoring the gnawing within me,
shivering at the thought of black coats and dim lights.
Illusions are costly, I cannot afford them.
Most days I forget in the details of life.
The hours portioned out with some easy calling--
the washing, the reading, the mending, a nap.
My son was redeemed from his prisoner sentence.
He and my daughter now hunt me to get back
some part of their youth, their own lost illusions.
I was not a good mother, I admit freely to that.
I’ve fled to this place where the silent are gathered.
They leave me alone, they despise me for my past.
But we are all nameless, faceless, unlisted
equally dead before law, so they do not attack.
There are some days I wonder, why didn’t I leave him?
Why go through the theater of the entire revenge?
Why not run away with my devoted lover?
What in all Qo’NoS was I trying to avenge?
You might say my illusions, but I know the answer:
I still had enough feeling to burn up with hate
I had to kill him. I had to see him broken.
I had to see that I had broken his fate.
His face at that seal is the one that stays with me--
not my lover’s smile, or his ecstasy.
those are quiet things that he gave to me, gentle.
I am defined by destruction, hatred, jealousy.
You feel sympathy for me. Your eyes make it clear.
Let me tell you something that will drive it away.
My husband was broken by the seal of his lover.
He and mNoS became honor-sworn in the war’s dark days.
After that time, they were closer than brothers,
and that is why I killed him, using his mate.
Let me tell you one more thing to complete my love story
I had three children, two daughters, one son.
My eldest daughter followed the command of her father.
One battle their unit was outnumbered, outgunned.
My daughter came back to me in five shattered pieces.
I learned what happened from a warrior returned,
who spoke high praise of her valour, courage, brilliance,
without being able to look me in my face.
I pressed the truth out of him.
My husband sent her on a suicide mission
sacrificing her life for mNoS’ embrace.
She would be four years older than you today, Captain.
Younger than Mr. Chekhov when she went into space.
Dead. We are caught in the Furies.
War wreaks vengeance on us all.”
--