[FIC improv] A thousand words [R+; AU Marvel]
For ion_bond. Happy birthday.
10.
From the moment she was born, she was precious. Her mother died and her father consoled himself with his new daughter.
She was loved and indulged, allowed to run wild while father and brother conducted their business of commerce, trading back and forth across the wine-dark seas.
As she grew, she learned much from her brother. How to walk like a boy, how to talk like a man, how to fight in a bar or a back alley.
For her father, she learned to act the lady, ornamenting their house.
She is a jewel to him, his “Little Amber”.
9.
They follow the Church of Rome. The Catholic countries are among the wealthiest, rich with gold from New Spain, spices from the Indies, and exotic treasures from faraway Cathay.
There is a land called Zipangu in waters where Portugal has laid claim. As golden as the rising sun, wrote Marco Polo, and many hoped to barter for that gold.
Half their fleet will sail eastward, laden with goods to sell.
Ever inseparable, father and daughter travel together, leaving Orestes to manage their affairs at home.
Standing in the prow, she imagines they launch a thousand ships to the promised land.
8.
From Aegean through Mediterranean, they take passengers aboard.
A minstrel entertains the crew.
He sings rather poorly, but the sailors are easily amused. He flatters her beauty, though he cannot see.
“I could resemble a goat and you would never know,” she teases.
“Not so,” he protests. “Blind I may be, but not deaf in the least. When you walk amongst men, they forget to breathe.”
She lets him feel her face, a little pityingly. His gentle touch tickles as fingers serve in place of eyes.
“You have a kindly smile,” he tells her, tracing the curve of her lips.
7.
The journey to Zipangu begins from Lisbon, where they receive royal permission to join the Portuguese. They sail with merchants and missionaries; first south, and then east. It takes more than two years to reach their destination, circling around the world.
When they finally set ashore, they are welcomed into a lord's household. He is a Christian lord, converted many years ago and eager to defend the faith.
They are allowed to trade within his lands and greatly increase his wealth. Merchants are a despised class and his patronage lends status.
Not all the lords are equally wealthy or Christian.
6.
There is a law practiced throughout the land: persons of lower rank yield to those higher.
So warrior ruled farmer, who looked down upon artisan, who in turn saw merchants as the lowest of the four. Foreigners did not even merit consideration.
Travel was difficult. It required permits, which were inspected for the slightest error at every checkpoint.
One day they stood in the road as a neighbouring lord passed through. His vassals were merciless in demanding respect and expressing contempt for namban peddlers.
They would not slow for obstacles in their way.
She screamed as her father was trampled.
5.
They brought him back to the castle, insensate with pain. Their lord sent for physicians as she waited and prayed.
After a long night, the doctors finally left. The youngest of them pressed a folded paper, smelling of herbs, into her hand.
“Mix this with hot water and give it to your father when ready,” he instructed.
She eyed the packet hopefully; it was rude to meet another's gaze.
“This will heal him? Make him well?” she asked.
The doctor stayed silent. “It will ease his suffering,” he said at last.
Her heart caught and she wished it would stop.
4.
She kneels, listening to her father's laboured breathing.
She does not want to be here; would that they had never left their home.
For hours she weeps to God, begging for a reprieve.
None is forthcoming and the sounds become agony. She can bear it no longer and rips the packet open, pouring it into one of the cups they use for cha, filled from the kettle on the brazier.
She presses it to his lips and cannot watch as it dribbles inside.
The enormity of her deed sinks in and she moans.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned....”
3.
When she can speak again, their lord grants her audience. Her father was an acknowledged, if minor, retainer and deserves vengeance for his death.
The lord nods wisely, but cannot take action. His neighbour and rival is a big name, not to be attacked lightly. It was very regrettable.
An attendant escorts her out.
“A man cannot live under the same sky as his father's murderer,” he quotes sententiously in Latin learned from the priests.
Anger looses her tongue. “And yet a woman must?”
“It is very regrettable,” he replies. “Perhaps less so if one's grief is taken in hand.”
2.
On a hidden farm in a secret village she trains long and hard. She learns the ways of stealth and sabotage, practices the forms of combat.
Her primary weapon is the jitte, its long and short prongs made to trap and break blades.
Her enemy is samurai. He will be armed with two swords.
Soon, she is ready for the master's attention.
Bowing down respectfully, she waits until he bids her rise and gives him her name. Until this moment, she has been addressed simply as kunoichi.
“E-re-ku-tsu-ra? Such barbarian noises. You shall be our Goddess of Mercy,” sensei decides.
1.
A swift death is the mercy she grants.
She cuts the bodyguards down, heedless of the blows she takes. Her white clothes stain red with blood and hair streams from beneath her slashed hood.
Fury makes the wounds mere stings; scorpion whips driving her forth, relentless.
Chasing the lord through his castle, she sees the face of her father's killer reflected in the armour of the slain.
Her prey finally cornered, he gestures a sign to ward her off.
“Merciful Goddess!”
“I am Kwannon.”
Her smile is no longer a kindly one.
“And I have no mercy for you.”
Disclaimer: I haven't actually read anything with non-mythological Elektra in it. I am indebted to Wikipedia and the Elektra Exposed site for much-needed background info.
I also have far less access to resources on ninja than samurai. As always, the works of Stephen Turnbull proved most helpful when the library had them in stock.
Inaccuracies exist. Kindly pretend they don't.
10.
From the moment she was born, she was precious. Her mother died and her father consoled himself with his new daughter.
She was loved and indulged, allowed to run wild while father and brother conducted their business of commerce, trading back and forth across the wine-dark seas.
As she grew, she learned much from her brother. How to walk like a boy, how to talk like a man, how to fight in a bar or a back alley.
For her father, she learned to act the lady, ornamenting their house.
She is a jewel to him, his “Little Amber”.
9.
They follow the Church of Rome. The Catholic countries are among the wealthiest, rich with gold from New Spain, spices from the Indies, and exotic treasures from faraway Cathay.
There is a land called Zipangu in waters where Portugal has laid claim. As golden as the rising sun, wrote Marco Polo, and many hoped to barter for that gold.
Half their fleet will sail eastward, laden with goods to sell.
Ever inseparable, father and daughter travel together, leaving Orestes to manage their affairs at home.
Standing in the prow, she imagines they launch a thousand ships to the promised land.
8.
From Aegean through Mediterranean, they take passengers aboard.
A minstrel entertains the crew.
He sings rather poorly, but the sailors are easily amused. He flatters her beauty, though he cannot see.
“I could resemble a goat and you would never know,” she teases.
“Not so,” he protests. “Blind I may be, but not deaf in the least. When you walk amongst men, they forget to breathe.”
She lets him feel her face, a little pityingly. His gentle touch tickles as fingers serve in place of eyes.
“You have a kindly smile,” he tells her, tracing the curve of her lips.
7.
The journey to Zipangu begins from Lisbon, where they receive royal permission to join the Portuguese. They sail with merchants and missionaries; first south, and then east. It takes more than two years to reach their destination, circling around the world.
When they finally set ashore, they are welcomed into a lord's household. He is a Christian lord, converted many years ago and eager to defend the faith.
They are allowed to trade within his lands and greatly increase his wealth. Merchants are a despised class and his patronage lends status.
Not all the lords are equally wealthy or Christian.
6.
There is a law practiced throughout the land: persons of lower rank yield to those higher.
So warrior ruled farmer, who looked down upon artisan, who in turn saw merchants as the lowest of the four. Foreigners did not even merit consideration.
Travel was difficult. It required permits, which were inspected for the slightest error at every checkpoint.
One day they stood in the road as a neighbouring lord passed through. His vassals were merciless in demanding respect and expressing contempt for namban peddlers.
They would not slow for obstacles in their way.
She screamed as her father was trampled.
5.
They brought him back to the castle, insensate with pain. Their lord sent for physicians as she waited and prayed.
After a long night, the doctors finally left. The youngest of them pressed a folded paper, smelling of herbs, into her hand.
“Mix this with hot water and give it to your father when ready,” he instructed.
She eyed the packet hopefully; it was rude to meet another's gaze.
“This will heal him? Make him well?” she asked.
The doctor stayed silent. “It will ease his suffering,” he said at last.
Her heart caught and she wished it would stop.
4.
She kneels, listening to her father's laboured breathing.
She does not want to be here; would that they had never left their home.
For hours she weeps to God, begging for a reprieve.
None is forthcoming and the sounds become agony. She can bear it no longer and rips the packet open, pouring it into one of the cups they use for cha, filled from the kettle on the brazier.
She presses it to his lips and cannot watch as it dribbles inside.
The enormity of her deed sinks in and she moans.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned....”
3.
When she can speak again, their lord grants her audience. Her father was an acknowledged, if minor, retainer and deserves vengeance for his death.
The lord nods wisely, but cannot take action. His neighbour and rival is a big name, not to be attacked lightly. It was very regrettable.
An attendant escorts her out.
“A man cannot live under the same sky as his father's murderer,” he quotes sententiously in Latin learned from the priests.
Anger looses her tongue. “And yet a woman must?”
“It is very regrettable,” he replies. “Perhaps less so if one's grief is taken in hand.”
2.
On a hidden farm in a secret village she trains long and hard. She learns the ways of stealth and sabotage, practices the forms of combat.
Her primary weapon is the jitte, its long and short prongs made to trap and break blades.
Her enemy is samurai. He will be armed with two swords.
Soon, she is ready for the master's attention.
Bowing down respectfully, she waits until he bids her rise and gives him her name. Until this moment, she has been addressed simply as kunoichi.
“E-re-ku-tsu-ra? Such barbarian noises. You shall be our Goddess of Mercy,” sensei decides.
1.
A swift death is the mercy she grants.
She cuts the bodyguards down, heedless of the blows she takes. Her white clothes stain red with blood and hair streams from beneath her slashed hood.
Fury makes the wounds mere stings; scorpion whips driving her forth, relentless.
Chasing the lord through his castle, she sees the face of her father's killer reflected in the armour of the slain.
Her prey finally cornered, he gestures a sign to ward her off.
“Merciful Goddess!”
“I am Kwannon.”
Her smile is no longer a kindly one.
“And I have no mercy for you.”
Disclaimer: I haven't actually read anything with non-mythological Elektra in it. I am indebted to Wikipedia and the Elektra Exposed site for much-needed background info.
I also have far less access to resources on ninja than samurai. As always, the works of Stephen Turnbull proved most helpful when the library had them in stock.
Inaccuracies exist. Kindly pretend they don't.