rec: Scheherazade by ZephyrHawk
Dec. 5th, 2012 10:00 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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calufraxStory: Scheherazade
Author: ZephyrHawk
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 90,207
Author's Summary: Heroes. Monsters. Villains. Witches. True Love. Not just your basic, average, everyday, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, ho-hum fairy tale.
Characters/Pairings: Tenth Doctor, Donna Noble, Rose Tyler, other characters
Warnings: Explicit violence
Recced because: The best crossovers weave bits of lore together to create a cohesive story, and in the very best, you can't see the seams between the different worlds. This fic gets pretty close to that ideal. The structural formula of Doctor Who is all about exploring new worlds through fresh eyes, and so lends itself readily to crossovers. ZephyrHawk brings us into the world of the comic book series Fables. I haven't read the comics myself, but it was easy enough to follow the story. I probably would have found it a richer experience knowing the Fables history, but there are easily enough clues to fill in any blanks.
The basic framework is a reworking of Scheherazade, the woman who told the sultan a story every night for a thousand and one nights in order to belay the execution that awaited her on the following dawn. It's a structure also used in the Fables prequel, 1001 Nights of Snowfall. In this fic, Rose is the storyteller, telling the tales of her adventures with the Doctor to entertain the sultan. All of the scenes with Rose are through the sultan's eyes, and filtered through the understanding and lore of the Arabian Nights mythos, which is a singular challenge and achievement unto itself. ZephyrHawk painstakingly builds the relationship between Rose and the sultan as she changes in his eyes from a "wild animal" brought to his court as a conquest and a captive, to a spellbinding storyteller that he falls in love with and who holds him in thrall. I find the language and perspective in these scenes beautifully crafted.
On the flip side, interspersed with Rose's tales and the sultan, the Doctor and Donna are exploring the world of the Fables and preparing for a rising battle that is one part magical clash and one part paradox with encroaching reapers. Just having Donna alone is a selling point for me - done well, Donna is my very favourite companion. I find the plot gets a little messy and that the subplot gets a little short shrift (though it could be I'm missing some info that a Fables fan would fill in automatically), but the story doesn't really suffer as a result, and in the end...well, let's just say that the fairytale stories get a proper fairytale ending. A pat ending, but appropriate and sweet all the same.
It's a lengthy read at 90,000+ words, and I now enjoy dipping into it for certain scenes and chapters when I come back to it. If you're up for a longer read, I do recommend it, along with all of ZephyrHawk's stories. She has a lovely grasp of language, and there are passages that are pure poetry.
Excerpt:
A scene between the sultan and Rose:
Her story is certainly strange. More than once he requires that she pause in it and try to explain some word he does not know or couch some concept in terms that he can understand. The courses come and go, a seemingly endless procession of servants in an out, but neither she nor he pay them any heed, too bound up in the recounting to spare a thought to anything else. By the end, he is completely enraptured in the story of the blue eyed djinn and the golden haired girl. When she gets to the part where the djinn asks the girl to travel with him, he wants to shout to her not to do it. One should never go with a djinn inside of his domain, or else one would certainly never return. But at the same time, he finds himself saddened when she tells the djinn no and decides to stay with her poor mother and her hapless suitor.
Then, when the djinn appears again and repeats his request, he actually laughs aloud; approving of the girl’s final choice. Of course, he thinks, a djinn is dangerous. Too dangerous to ever trust, but really, who ignores a chance to live in one of the great stories. No, there is only one choice to that. You may be in a djinn’s story, and therefore the end is sure to be bad, but at least you are in the tale. You will live for as long as it is told, and that is far longer than any normal man or woman lives. He applauds the decision and her story. It had been well told.
“My dove,” he says, “That truly was a tale worth hearing.” She smiles, and he can tell she is truly pleased by his reaction. It is a perfectly lovely smile she has. The best feature in a face full of exotic planes and angles which, if not ascribing to his country’s more traditional standards of beauty, are still undeniably exquisite. “However, I cannot help but notice, you have failed to tell the story of how you came to my lands.”
She shakes her head at him, but continues to smile. “My Lord, I said this was my story. But as you know, one story often leads to the next, and then the next, and on until the end. I have come to these lands only recently and at the end of my various journeys.”
“You have other such stories then? Other true adventures?”
Her smile is gigantic. Enigmatic. Breathtaking.
“My Lord, I have a thousand such tales.”
He shakes his head at her, half in disbelief and half in disappointment. “Then why did you not tell the tale of your most recent voyage to this place? Is it not what I asked for?”
“My Lord, I said I had to start at the beginning. My coming here began with the story I told. Were it not for that story, for the appearance of the djinn and his magic box, I would never have come here to serve my Lord’s pleasures.”
He looks at her, then, with new appreciation. To think she has gone through so much, this beautiful flower; it is hard to fathom. That there can be more to her story is even more difficult to believe. She seems so fragile a bloom, he feels the strange desire to place her in a pot on a shaded verandah where she would be safe and lovingly tended all her days. But her smile, her smile is not weak or drooping. Her eyes are like polished mahogany, dark and strong. Her hair, that beautiful golden cloud peaking out from behind her veil, glows in the light streaming in through the curtains.
The light.
“It seems,” he says in a surprised drawl, “That you have talked the night away. Look there, the morning sun peaks through the casement.” She follows his gaze, and though he would not have believed it possible, her face lights up even more at the prospect of feeling the sunlight dance across it once again. After a moment, she turns back to him, her face composed and serious, remembering.
“My…my Lord did not take his pleasures.”
He cannot tell if she is embarrassed or relieved or frightened. A little of all of them, he decides, and reaches a hand out towards her face. She flinches just slightly at his caress, his warm dry palm pressing against the smooth apple of her cheek. It is the first time they have touched in the long night. “There are many pleasures,” he murmurs. “And time enough to explore them all.”
He drops his hand. She remains frozen before him, trembling. “You will come again tomorrow evening and take dinner with me.” She says not a word, merely nods in assent. That is fine, it is not a question anyway, and does not require response. He stands, and she waits on her knees. He glances again at her lovely features, so much brighter and healthier looking in the beams of early morning, before turning away and striding purposefully towards his bedchamber. Stopping halfway, he turns his head over his shoulder and says, “Perhaps then you may finish your tale.”
Author: ZephyrHawk
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 90,207
Author's Summary: Heroes. Monsters. Villains. Witches. True Love. Not just your basic, average, everyday, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, ho-hum fairy tale.
Characters/Pairings: Tenth Doctor, Donna Noble, Rose Tyler, other characters
Warnings: Explicit violence
Recced because: The best crossovers weave bits of lore together to create a cohesive story, and in the very best, you can't see the seams between the different worlds. This fic gets pretty close to that ideal. The structural formula of Doctor Who is all about exploring new worlds through fresh eyes, and so lends itself readily to crossovers. ZephyrHawk brings us into the world of the comic book series Fables. I haven't read the comics myself, but it was easy enough to follow the story. I probably would have found it a richer experience knowing the Fables history, but there are easily enough clues to fill in any blanks.
The basic framework is a reworking of Scheherazade, the woman who told the sultan a story every night for a thousand and one nights in order to belay the execution that awaited her on the following dawn. It's a structure also used in the Fables prequel, 1001 Nights of Snowfall. In this fic, Rose is the storyteller, telling the tales of her adventures with the Doctor to entertain the sultan. All of the scenes with Rose are through the sultan's eyes, and filtered through the understanding and lore of the Arabian Nights mythos, which is a singular challenge and achievement unto itself. ZephyrHawk painstakingly builds the relationship between Rose and the sultan as she changes in his eyes from a "wild animal" brought to his court as a conquest and a captive, to a spellbinding storyteller that he falls in love with and who holds him in thrall. I find the language and perspective in these scenes beautifully crafted.
On the flip side, interspersed with Rose's tales and the sultan, the Doctor and Donna are exploring the world of the Fables and preparing for a rising battle that is one part magical clash and one part paradox with encroaching reapers. Just having Donna alone is a selling point for me - done well, Donna is my very favourite companion. I find the plot gets a little messy and that the subplot gets a little short shrift (though it could be I'm missing some info that a Fables fan would fill in automatically), but the story doesn't really suffer as a result, and in the end...well, let's just say that the fairytale stories get a proper fairytale ending. A pat ending, but appropriate and sweet all the same.
It's a lengthy read at 90,000+ words, and I now enjoy dipping into it for certain scenes and chapters when I come back to it. If you're up for a longer read, I do recommend it, along with all of ZephyrHawk's stories. She has a lovely grasp of language, and there are passages that are pure poetry.
Excerpt:
A scene between the sultan and Rose:
Her story is certainly strange. More than once he requires that she pause in it and try to explain some word he does not know or couch some concept in terms that he can understand. The courses come and go, a seemingly endless procession of servants in an out, but neither she nor he pay them any heed, too bound up in the recounting to spare a thought to anything else. By the end, he is completely enraptured in the story of the blue eyed djinn and the golden haired girl. When she gets to the part where the djinn asks the girl to travel with him, he wants to shout to her not to do it. One should never go with a djinn inside of his domain, or else one would certainly never return. But at the same time, he finds himself saddened when she tells the djinn no and decides to stay with her poor mother and her hapless suitor.
Then, when the djinn appears again and repeats his request, he actually laughs aloud; approving of the girl’s final choice. Of course, he thinks, a djinn is dangerous. Too dangerous to ever trust, but really, who ignores a chance to live in one of the great stories. No, there is only one choice to that. You may be in a djinn’s story, and therefore the end is sure to be bad, but at least you are in the tale. You will live for as long as it is told, and that is far longer than any normal man or woman lives. He applauds the decision and her story. It had been well told.
“My dove,” he says, “That truly was a tale worth hearing.” She smiles, and he can tell she is truly pleased by his reaction. It is a perfectly lovely smile she has. The best feature in a face full of exotic planes and angles which, if not ascribing to his country’s more traditional standards of beauty, are still undeniably exquisite. “However, I cannot help but notice, you have failed to tell the story of how you came to my lands.”
She shakes her head at him, but continues to smile. “My Lord, I said this was my story. But as you know, one story often leads to the next, and then the next, and on until the end. I have come to these lands only recently and at the end of my various journeys.”
“You have other such stories then? Other true adventures?”
Her smile is gigantic. Enigmatic. Breathtaking.
“My Lord, I have a thousand such tales.”
He shakes his head at her, half in disbelief and half in disappointment. “Then why did you not tell the tale of your most recent voyage to this place? Is it not what I asked for?”
“My Lord, I said I had to start at the beginning. My coming here began with the story I told. Were it not for that story, for the appearance of the djinn and his magic box, I would never have come here to serve my Lord’s pleasures.”
He looks at her, then, with new appreciation. To think she has gone through so much, this beautiful flower; it is hard to fathom. That there can be more to her story is even more difficult to believe. She seems so fragile a bloom, he feels the strange desire to place her in a pot on a shaded verandah where she would be safe and lovingly tended all her days. But her smile, her smile is not weak or drooping. Her eyes are like polished mahogany, dark and strong. Her hair, that beautiful golden cloud peaking out from behind her veil, glows in the light streaming in through the curtains.
The light.
“It seems,” he says in a surprised drawl, “That you have talked the night away. Look there, the morning sun peaks through the casement.” She follows his gaze, and though he would not have believed it possible, her face lights up even more at the prospect of feeling the sunlight dance across it once again. After a moment, she turns back to him, her face composed and serious, remembering.
“My…my Lord did not take his pleasures.”
He cannot tell if she is embarrassed or relieved or frightened. A little of all of them, he decides, and reaches a hand out towards her face. She flinches just slightly at his caress, his warm dry palm pressing against the smooth apple of her cheek. It is the first time they have touched in the long night. “There are many pleasures,” he murmurs. “And time enough to explore them all.”
He drops his hand. She remains frozen before him, trembling. “You will come again tomorrow evening and take dinner with me.” She says not a word, merely nods in assent. That is fine, it is not a question anyway, and does not require response. He stands, and she waits on her knees. He glances again at her lovely features, so much brighter and healthier looking in the beams of early morning, before turning away and striding purposefully towards his bedchamber. Stopping halfway, he turns his head over his shoulder and says, “Perhaps then you may finish your tale.”
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