Doctor Who fic: The Boy Who Waited (21/49)
Title: The Boy Who Waited (21/49)
Rating: PG
Characters: Rory, with appearances from Barbara
Timeline: set between "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang"
Summary: London, 1996. Barbara Wright prepares the Pandorica for exhibit at the National Museum. As the work unfolds, she recounts the lengthy history of the stone box and its loyal protector, the Lone Centurion.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Everything else is me taking liberties with history.
A/N: A huge thank you to my beta punch_kicker15. This story would still be sitting on my hard drive if it weren't for you.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49
Cambaluc, 1275 A.D.
The Pandorica barely fit as Rory pulled it through the doorway into the Khan’s throne room. The silk mat the servants had rigged up helped to reduce the friction between the box and the ground, and it prevented the box from leaving any scratches in the fancy floors, but it didn’t ease the task completely. He managed all right, but if some of the servants were doing this, the Pandorica would still be back in the stables.
He manoeuvred the Pandorica to the dead centre of the room. There was still plenty of room in front of the Khan’s throne to receive guests, but the Pandorica would be displayed prominently behind them. And after their incredibly long journey, Rory wanted the Khan to see a representation of the trouble they had gone through to get here.
As he untied the rope around the box, the Polos entered the room. Marco looked back and forth so quickly it seemed like his head might fly off his neck. Niccolò and Maffeo were much more casual but both were tense with excitement. Rory tossed the rope to the envoy leader, who frowned at him, but he said nothing and left the room. With everything in place, he could now take in where they were.
“Big” was the first word that came to mind. The throne room was bigger than Rory’s flat, bigger than the console room of the TARDIS. Pillars of red and gold topped with a dragon each held up the vast ceiling, making it seem like the dragons kept the roof from crashing down on them. Large paintings and other sundries adorned the walls, all crafted with the greatest care. The Khan’s throne sat on a raised dais with steps leading up to the gilded chair. It was currently empty.
Marco exchanged a look with Rory and the young man was speechless. After years of rough living on the road, to have this as their last destination was the ultimate reward. Rory couldn’t help but smile. It was grand, far more than anything he had pictured. And, if everything worked out, he would be living here for a long while.
They had been given the opportunity to change and bathe and all three Polos looked as they did when they first left Acre, albeit a little bit more weathered thanks to the sun and the desert winds. Rory didn’t need a mirror to know that he hadn’t changed at all. He had made sure his armour was spotless, though.
The four of them automatically drifted to a spot that was a polite distance from the Khan’s throne. “So how do you greet a Khan?” asked Rory. For the Queen of England he knew he would bow but did that apply here?
The tall doors behind the throne opened, admitting a small party of people. Attendants, servants, and other various officials all flanked an average sized man dressed in resplendent silk robes.
“Kowtow,” said Niccolò and Maffeo together. And then they dropped to the floor.
Rory glanced over at Marco and the young man was already following his father and uncle’s example. The Polos knelt on the floor with their hands and their foreheads pressed against the ground.
For a second, he could only stare at them. He had heard of kowtowing but he never thought he would have to do it one day. It seemed a little ridiculous that he would have to get down onto his knees just to greet the Khan. Glancing back, he saw that the members of the envoy were also down on their knees.
He was the only one still standing.
By now, the Khan had nearly reached his throne. Not wanting to stand out like a sore thumb, Rory quickly knelt down and he pressed his forehead to the floor. It was smooth marble and cool against his skin.
How were they supposed to know when to get up when the only thing they could see was the nice, shiny floor?
Rory was pondering this question when he heard someone clear their throat. They sounded really close. Like, nearly on top of Rory. He risked lifting his head just a fraction of an inch and he shifted his gaze up. He was greeted to the sight of a pair of feet and a carved wooden cane.
He lifted his head just a bit more and promptly bit back a gasp.
Kublai Khan stared down at him, a kind smile on his face. His black hair was worn long but it was tied back and held down beneath a silk hat. He had a thin, long moustache and intense brown eyes, set within a slightly podgy face. He wasn’t a young man, but he wasn’t an old man either; he was probably between fifty and sixty years old.
Rory was too stunned to speak. He was too stunned to breathe.
The Khan spoke, but Rory didn’t understand him. It sounded like… Chinese? By now, the Polos had risked raising their heads, too, and they watched the exchange from their prone positions.
“He said ‘Hello, my friend’,” whispered Maffeo.
The Khan’s expression hadn’t changed. If anything, he looked amused. He spoke again and made a motion that clearly meant that Rory should rise to his feet. He looked around at everyone and repeated the gesture.
More than a little confused, Rory did as the Khan asked. When he got up and straightened to his full height, he found he was taller than the Khan. He was taller than the Emperor of ancient China.
The Polos got up with him, though the envoy was a bit slower to react. It probably wasn’t every day that your ruler informally asked you to stand up while in his presence. The Khan turned to Niccolò and Maffeo and he broke out into a wide smile. Words were exchanged and it was obvious that the Khan was happy to see them again. The conversation soon turned to Marco and Niccolò proudly presented his son. The Khan nodded enthusiastically and he even laughed a little when Marco spoke a bit of Mongolian.
Hearing the Khan laugh, it helped Rory to relax a little. It didn’t seem like the man was annoyed with him. That was good. He didn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot.
He suddenly realized that all eyes were on him. The Polos, the Khan, and even his entourage were looking at him. Rory felt like a deer caught in the headlamps of a car.
The Khan asked Niccolò a question and the elder Polo replied. Only two words were understandable to Rory. Centurion and Pandorica. The Khan was clearly intrigued and tried repeating each word. He didn’t quite manage, but he wasn’t discouraged. He gestured to the Pandorica with his cane and walked around the Polos to approach it. Rory immediately noticed that the Khan walked with a heavy limp, favouring his left foot. No wonder he needed the cane.
As Niccolò extolled the great worth of the Pandorica to the Khan, Rory turned to Maffeo and Marco. “What just happened?” he asked in a whisper.
“You have caught the interest of the great Kublai Khan,” said Maffeo. He seemed rather chuffed by the whole thing.
“It is quite an honour,” added Marco.
They hung back and watched the Khan as he examined the Pandorica. It was like Niccolò was trying to sell a used car to the Khan. He seemed to be hitting all of the Pandorica’s selling points.
“Do you know why the Khan has a limp?” Rory asked Maffeo.
“The envoy mentioned that the Khan had a terrible pain in the joint of his toe. It was the illness that kept him from travelling.”
It sounded like gout to Rory. Nothing life threatening then, and easy to cure, too, with the right lifestyle changes and some medicinal painkillers.
The Khan turned to his advisors and spoke urgently to them. One carried some paper, an ink well, and a brush and presented these to another of the entourage, a thin man with long fingers. He picked up the brush and started writing, drawing the complex characters that made up the Chinese language.
The small but triumphant smile on Niccolò’s face said it all. Kublai Khan was now the proud owner of the fabled Pandorica.
“Welcome to your new home, Centurion,” said Niccolò.
Rory chuckled to himself. He was going to live in the palace of Kublai Khan. Not bad for a nurse from Leadworth.
* * *
“Accounts say that the Pandorica was the Khan’s most prized possession. He had the pattern on the sides worked into many of the design elements of his palace in Beijing.” Barbara knew first hand that the museum had a carved jade dragon from the era with the Pandorica glyphs decorating the base of the statue.
“What about Marco and his family?” asked the security guard.
“It’s widely thought that they became emissaries for the Khan and they travelled across all of ancient China in his name. They stayed in the country for seventeen years, if you can imagine that.”
The security guard seemed only mildly awed by this fact. “You didn’t mention the Lone Centurion. He must have gone to China with the Polos.”
“One assumes he did, but he’s not mentioned in Marco’s account of the journey. You wouldn’t leave out something as important as the Pandorica’s guardian.”
“Yes, but in the same book, Marco never mentions the Great Wall of China. Just because something isn’t mentioned doesn’t mean that it wasn’t there.”
Barbara quirked an eyebrow at the security guard. He wasn’t as ignorant about history as she thought he was.
“This gives the rest of it away, doesn’t it.” The security guard gestured to the poster. The rest of the Pandorica’s timeline was neatly laid out with short descriptions and pictures marking each milestone.
“I suppose that means you won’t need to hear the rest from me.” Barbara was joking, of course, but she found the idea of not relaying the rest of the Pandorica’s history to the security guard a bit saddening. She enjoyed their talks.
“You’re better than some poster,” the security guard assured her.
She’d deny it later, but the simple comment left her smiling for the rest of the night.
Rating: PG
Characters: Rory, with appearances from Barbara
Timeline: set between "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang"
Summary: London, 1996. Barbara Wright prepares the Pandorica for exhibit at the National Museum. As the work unfolds, she recounts the lengthy history of the stone box and its loyal protector, the Lone Centurion.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Everything else is me taking liberties with history.
A/N: A huge thank you to my beta punch_kicker15. This story would still be sitting on my hard drive if it weren't for you.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49
Cambaluc, 1275 A.D.
The Pandorica barely fit as Rory pulled it through the doorway into the Khan’s throne room. The silk mat the servants had rigged up helped to reduce the friction between the box and the ground, and it prevented the box from leaving any scratches in the fancy floors, but it didn’t ease the task completely. He managed all right, but if some of the servants were doing this, the Pandorica would still be back in the stables.
He manoeuvred the Pandorica to the dead centre of the room. There was still plenty of room in front of the Khan’s throne to receive guests, but the Pandorica would be displayed prominently behind them. And after their incredibly long journey, Rory wanted the Khan to see a representation of the trouble they had gone through to get here.
As he untied the rope around the box, the Polos entered the room. Marco looked back and forth so quickly it seemed like his head might fly off his neck. Niccolò and Maffeo were much more casual but both were tense with excitement. Rory tossed the rope to the envoy leader, who frowned at him, but he said nothing and left the room. With everything in place, he could now take in where they were.
“Big” was the first word that came to mind. The throne room was bigger than Rory’s flat, bigger than the console room of the TARDIS. Pillars of red and gold topped with a dragon each held up the vast ceiling, making it seem like the dragons kept the roof from crashing down on them. Large paintings and other sundries adorned the walls, all crafted with the greatest care. The Khan’s throne sat on a raised dais with steps leading up to the gilded chair. It was currently empty.
Marco exchanged a look with Rory and the young man was speechless. After years of rough living on the road, to have this as their last destination was the ultimate reward. Rory couldn’t help but smile. It was grand, far more than anything he had pictured. And, if everything worked out, he would be living here for a long while.
They had been given the opportunity to change and bathe and all three Polos looked as they did when they first left Acre, albeit a little bit more weathered thanks to the sun and the desert winds. Rory didn’t need a mirror to know that he hadn’t changed at all. He had made sure his armour was spotless, though.
The four of them automatically drifted to a spot that was a polite distance from the Khan’s throne. “So how do you greet a Khan?” asked Rory. For the Queen of England he knew he would bow but did that apply here?
The tall doors behind the throne opened, admitting a small party of people. Attendants, servants, and other various officials all flanked an average sized man dressed in resplendent silk robes.
“Kowtow,” said Niccolò and Maffeo together. And then they dropped to the floor.
Rory glanced over at Marco and the young man was already following his father and uncle’s example. The Polos knelt on the floor with their hands and their foreheads pressed against the ground.
For a second, he could only stare at them. He had heard of kowtowing but he never thought he would have to do it one day. It seemed a little ridiculous that he would have to get down onto his knees just to greet the Khan. Glancing back, he saw that the members of the envoy were also down on their knees.
He was the only one still standing.
By now, the Khan had nearly reached his throne. Not wanting to stand out like a sore thumb, Rory quickly knelt down and he pressed his forehead to the floor. It was smooth marble and cool against his skin.
How were they supposed to know when to get up when the only thing they could see was the nice, shiny floor?
Rory was pondering this question when he heard someone clear their throat. They sounded really close. Like, nearly on top of Rory. He risked lifting his head just a fraction of an inch and he shifted his gaze up. He was greeted to the sight of a pair of feet and a carved wooden cane.
He lifted his head just a bit more and promptly bit back a gasp.
Kublai Khan stared down at him, a kind smile on his face. His black hair was worn long but it was tied back and held down beneath a silk hat. He had a thin, long moustache and intense brown eyes, set within a slightly podgy face. He wasn’t a young man, but he wasn’t an old man either; he was probably between fifty and sixty years old.
Rory was too stunned to speak. He was too stunned to breathe.
The Khan spoke, but Rory didn’t understand him. It sounded like… Chinese? By now, the Polos had risked raising their heads, too, and they watched the exchange from their prone positions.
“He said ‘Hello, my friend’,” whispered Maffeo.
The Khan’s expression hadn’t changed. If anything, he looked amused. He spoke again and made a motion that clearly meant that Rory should rise to his feet. He looked around at everyone and repeated the gesture.
More than a little confused, Rory did as the Khan asked. When he got up and straightened to his full height, he found he was taller than the Khan. He was taller than the Emperor of ancient China.
The Polos got up with him, though the envoy was a bit slower to react. It probably wasn’t every day that your ruler informally asked you to stand up while in his presence. The Khan turned to Niccolò and Maffeo and he broke out into a wide smile. Words were exchanged and it was obvious that the Khan was happy to see them again. The conversation soon turned to Marco and Niccolò proudly presented his son. The Khan nodded enthusiastically and he even laughed a little when Marco spoke a bit of Mongolian.
Hearing the Khan laugh, it helped Rory to relax a little. It didn’t seem like the man was annoyed with him. That was good. He didn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot.
He suddenly realized that all eyes were on him. The Polos, the Khan, and even his entourage were looking at him. Rory felt like a deer caught in the headlamps of a car.
The Khan asked Niccolò a question and the elder Polo replied. Only two words were understandable to Rory. Centurion and Pandorica. The Khan was clearly intrigued and tried repeating each word. He didn’t quite manage, but he wasn’t discouraged. He gestured to the Pandorica with his cane and walked around the Polos to approach it. Rory immediately noticed that the Khan walked with a heavy limp, favouring his left foot. No wonder he needed the cane.
As Niccolò extolled the great worth of the Pandorica to the Khan, Rory turned to Maffeo and Marco. “What just happened?” he asked in a whisper.
“You have caught the interest of the great Kublai Khan,” said Maffeo. He seemed rather chuffed by the whole thing.
“It is quite an honour,” added Marco.
They hung back and watched the Khan as he examined the Pandorica. It was like Niccolò was trying to sell a used car to the Khan. He seemed to be hitting all of the Pandorica’s selling points.
“Do you know why the Khan has a limp?” Rory asked Maffeo.
“The envoy mentioned that the Khan had a terrible pain in the joint of his toe. It was the illness that kept him from travelling.”
It sounded like gout to Rory. Nothing life threatening then, and easy to cure, too, with the right lifestyle changes and some medicinal painkillers.
The Khan turned to his advisors and spoke urgently to them. One carried some paper, an ink well, and a brush and presented these to another of the entourage, a thin man with long fingers. He picked up the brush and started writing, drawing the complex characters that made up the Chinese language.
The small but triumphant smile on Niccolò’s face said it all. Kublai Khan was now the proud owner of the fabled Pandorica.
“Welcome to your new home, Centurion,” said Niccolò.
Rory chuckled to himself. He was going to live in the palace of Kublai Khan. Not bad for a nurse from Leadworth.
* * *
“Accounts say that the Pandorica was the Khan’s most prized possession. He had the pattern on the sides worked into many of the design elements of his palace in Beijing.” Barbara knew first hand that the museum had a carved jade dragon from the era with the Pandorica glyphs decorating the base of the statue.
“What about Marco and his family?” asked the security guard.
“It’s widely thought that they became emissaries for the Khan and they travelled across all of ancient China in his name. They stayed in the country for seventeen years, if you can imagine that.”
The security guard seemed only mildly awed by this fact. “You didn’t mention the Lone Centurion. He must have gone to China with the Polos.”
“One assumes he did, but he’s not mentioned in Marco’s account of the journey. You wouldn’t leave out something as important as the Pandorica’s guardian.”
“Yes, but in the same book, Marco never mentions the Great Wall of China. Just because something isn’t mentioned doesn’t mean that it wasn’t there.”
Barbara quirked an eyebrow at the security guard. He wasn’t as ignorant about history as she thought he was.
“This gives the rest of it away, doesn’t it.” The security guard gestured to the poster. The rest of the Pandorica’s timeline was neatly laid out with short descriptions and pictures marking each milestone.
“I suppose that means you won’t need to hear the rest from me.” Barbara was joking, of course, but she found the idea of not relaying the rest of the Pandorica’s history to the security guard a bit saddening. She enjoyed their talks.
“You’re better than some poster,” the security guard assured her.
She’d deny it later, but the simple comment left her smiling for the rest of the night.