Fic:: Apple (scenes from the wedding album of Jenny Flint and Madame Vastra [Doctor Who]
Argh, so I sat down AGAIN to try and write some notes on the wedding, and this time wrote a story about someone else's wedding instead. Hurray for me.
Fic:: Apple (scenes from the wedding album of Jenny Flint and Madame Vastra)
by Raven
1000w, Doctor Who, Jenny/Vastra. "I understand it is not the custom of your people…"
"What's it mean, Paternoster?" Jenny asked, idly, one evening while untangling her knitting. Strax paused for a moment in his dusting and then went on, presumably because once again she had wasted words on something not in herald of the glorious invasion.
"It is your world now, Jenny, not mine," Vastra said, mild. Her pen had been working irregularly across the page all evening, scritch scritch above the sound of the crackling logs.
"If we're going to be the Paternoster Gang I should know what it means, right?" Jenny insisted.
Vastra lay down her pen and said, careful and sonorous: "Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum; adveniat regnum tuum."
Jenny paused for a moment, recognising the warm cadences. "It's the Our Father! You're so clever, milady, you really are."
"I may be," Vastra said, crisply, "but know the difference between clever and well-educated. I was schooled in mathematics, physics, chemistry, history and dance before I went down in the earth to sleep."
"That's new history, though, isn't it?" Jenny said, still impressed. "You've learned all the new things that've happened since you've woken up. The Romans and the kings and queens and the Lord's Prayer and that."
Vastra stretched out in her chair, a little like a cat in the warmth of the flames. It meant she was pleased, Jenny knew.
*
It wasn't until a couple of days later, after they had wrapped up a little matter concerning a lost black pearl and smashed busts of Cleopatra, that Jenny thought to ask, "What was it like, the history that you learned before?"
Vastra turned, a look of surprise settling on her beautiful face. It was a bright, crisp day in London, fiercely cold with the sun sparkling off ice. "What do you mean, Jenny?"
"Before you… went to sleep," Jenny said, with difficulty. "You said you learned history."
"The history of my people," Vastra said, sibilant with emphasis. "The times of the triads. When the landmasses were joined. Before you came."
"Not," Jenny said, still with difficulty, "the Lord's Prayer, and that?"
Vastra stopped short, her boots kicking through layers of ice on the ground, and stared for so long that Strax said, "Madame Vastra, should you wish someone to eat…"
"No," Vastra said. "Not that."
*
"Did you know," Vastra said, striding into the TARDIS without greeting, "they have a creation myth where a woman loves a reptile temptress, and is damned forever more for it? How I ever thought they had civilissssation."
"That isn't exactly how it goes," the Doctor said, looking up from the console. From the screen, he had been reading when she came in: it was always Dickens or Thackeray these days. "Don't you know how to knock?"
"Would you have answered?" Vastra demanded. "And you left the door open in any case."
"I live on top of a cloud, there isn't exactly passing trade," the Doctor complained. "And what do you want me to do about it all, anyway?"
"She wants to marry me," Vastra said, and sat down on the stool next to him. "She wants to marry me, Doctor. She wants me to stand up in front of one of those godforsaken priests…"
"A little much, don't you think?" the Doctor murmured.
"With their hellfire, their brimstone, their arrogance, their ignorance. I will not have it. But she wants, and what she wants…"
"I'll take you," the Doctor said. "I'll take you where you need to go."
"Why?" Vastra asked, sharply. He hadn't looked up and she stalked across to him, standing at his shoulder so her shadow was cast over his book and her breath warmed his ear. "Why, when you do nothing, and become nothing, like…"
"Vastra."
"…some fatuous priest living on a cloud. Well?"
He looked up. "You remember my wife, don't you?"
*
"If you don't mind," Vastra said, "the Doctor says he'll arrange it, and I would like… but if you don't…"
"Of course I do."
"I understand it is not the custom of your people…"
"I love you," said Jenny, steadfast, "and I would love to" - and that seemed to be that.
*
Vastra and Jenny were married in the most beautiful days of the Second Silurian Reaching, in the glorious gardens where Kew had once stood, now tangled with orchids, steamy with promise. Vastra stood as a Silurian warrior, with a fretworked blade strapped to her back and her claws sheathed in silver. Jenny wore a white dress which Amy had bought and Strax had laundered and embroidered into perfection. The Doctor threw confetti, River blew kisses, and with military precision, the tears dripped down Strax's face. A message was read out from Eldane and Nasreen of the Triad, offering blessing upon this union, and then it was over.
"It's so warm," Jenny said, wonderingly, as she walked back to the TARDIS with her arms full of flowers. "So beautiful here. And the wedding - I didn't realise that we did the marrying. No one else said any words, I mean."
"It is our way," Vastra said. "No one shall live within our skins except ourselves." Jenny nodded, and Vastra sighed. "I am sorry I do not believe in your gods."
"I'm not," Jenny said.
"Me neither," said the Doctor from behind them, "but it's no matter." He paused and waved an expansive hand at all of it, at the unfamiliar rich skyline, at Amy fumbling for a tissue and Rory holding Jenny's bouquet. "Plenty of sacred things to go around."
"Exactly," Jenny said, and followed the Doctor's gaze to River, leaning against the TARDIS door, passing the key from hand to hand.
"Our way," Vastra said, uncertain, "is to remake where we are, as holy space."
"Then that's what we'll do," Jenny said, and kissed her wife in front of whatever gods might be watching, or not; and when she thought to ask a few minutes later, if perhaps a particular wedding custom of her people might not be honoured in the breach, Amy held the door and Rory bowed and the Doctor led the way to the dancing, the music and (in the shape of the spearhead of the glorious invasion) cake.
end.
note:
You may recall that this is a loose series of sorts: I've also done scenes from the wedding albums of Amy and Rory, Canton Everett Delaware III, and (now jossed), the Doctor and River.
raven is also at Dreamwidth: there is or are
comment(s). Comment there or here.
Fic:: Apple (scenes from the wedding album of Jenny Flint and Madame Vastra)
by Raven
1000w, Doctor Who, Jenny/Vastra. "I understand it is not the custom of your people…"
"What's it mean, Paternoster?" Jenny asked, idly, one evening while untangling her knitting. Strax paused for a moment in his dusting and then went on, presumably because once again she had wasted words on something not in herald of the glorious invasion.
"It is your world now, Jenny, not mine," Vastra said, mild. Her pen had been working irregularly across the page all evening, scritch scritch above the sound of the crackling logs.
"If we're going to be the Paternoster Gang I should know what it means, right?" Jenny insisted.
Vastra lay down her pen and said, careful and sonorous: "Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum; adveniat regnum tuum."
Jenny paused for a moment, recognising the warm cadences. "It's the Our Father! You're so clever, milady, you really are."
"I may be," Vastra said, crisply, "but know the difference between clever and well-educated. I was schooled in mathematics, physics, chemistry, history and dance before I went down in the earth to sleep."
"That's new history, though, isn't it?" Jenny said, still impressed. "You've learned all the new things that've happened since you've woken up. The Romans and the kings and queens and the Lord's Prayer and that."
Vastra stretched out in her chair, a little like a cat in the warmth of the flames. It meant she was pleased, Jenny knew.
*
It wasn't until a couple of days later, after they had wrapped up a little matter concerning a lost black pearl and smashed busts of Cleopatra, that Jenny thought to ask, "What was it like, the history that you learned before?"
Vastra turned, a look of surprise settling on her beautiful face. It was a bright, crisp day in London, fiercely cold with the sun sparkling off ice. "What do you mean, Jenny?"
"Before you… went to sleep," Jenny said, with difficulty. "You said you learned history."
"The history of my people," Vastra said, sibilant with emphasis. "The times of the triads. When the landmasses were joined. Before you came."
"Not," Jenny said, still with difficulty, "the Lord's Prayer, and that?"
Vastra stopped short, her boots kicking through layers of ice on the ground, and stared for so long that Strax said, "Madame Vastra, should you wish someone to eat…"
"No," Vastra said. "Not that."
*
"Did you know," Vastra said, striding into the TARDIS without greeting, "they have a creation myth where a woman loves a reptile temptress, and is damned forever more for it? How I ever thought they had civilissssation."
"That isn't exactly how it goes," the Doctor said, looking up from the console. From the screen, he had been reading when she came in: it was always Dickens or Thackeray these days. "Don't you know how to knock?"
"Would you have answered?" Vastra demanded. "And you left the door open in any case."
"I live on top of a cloud, there isn't exactly passing trade," the Doctor complained. "And what do you want me to do about it all, anyway?"
"She wants to marry me," Vastra said, and sat down on the stool next to him. "She wants to marry me, Doctor. She wants me to stand up in front of one of those godforsaken priests…"
"A little much, don't you think?" the Doctor murmured.
"With their hellfire, their brimstone, their arrogance, their ignorance. I will not have it. But she wants, and what she wants…"
"I'll take you," the Doctor said. "I'll take you where you need to go."
"Why?" Vastra asked, sharply. He hadn't looked up and she stalked across to him, standing at his shoulder so her shadow was cast over his book and her breath warmed his ear. "Why, when you do nothing, and become nothing, like…"
"Vastra."
"…some fatuous priest living on a cloud. Well?"
He looked up. "You remember my wife, don't you?"
*
"If you don't mind," Vastra said, "the Doctor says he'll arrange it, and I would like… but if you don't…"
"Of course I do."
"I understand it is not the custom of your people…"
"I love you," said Jenny, steadfast, "and I would love to" - and that seemed to be that.
*
Vastra and Jenny were married in the most beautiful days of the Second Silurian Reaching, in the glorious gardens where Kew had once stood, now tangled with orchids, steamy with promise. Vastra stood as a Silurian warrior, with a fretworked blade strapped to her back and her claws sheathed in silver. Jenny wore a white dress which Amy had bought and Strax had laundered and embroidered into perfection. The Doctor threw confetti, River blew kisses, and with military precision, the tears dripped down Strax's face. A message was read out from Eldane and Nasreen of the Triad, offering blessing upon this union, and then it was over.
"It's so warm," Jenny said, wonderingly, as she walked back to the TARDIS with her arms full of flowers. "So beautiful here. And the wedding - I didn't realise that we did the marrying. No one else said any words, I mean."
"It is our way," Vastra said. "No one shall live within our skins except ourselves." Jenny nodded, and Vastra sighed. "I am sorry I do not believe in your gods."
"I'm not," Jenny said.
"Me neither," said the Doctor from behind them, "but it's no matter." He paused and waved an expansive hand at all of it, at the unfamiliar rich skyline, at Amy fumbling for a tissue and Rory holding Jenny's bouquet. "Plenty of sacred things to go around."
"Exactly," Jenny said, and followed the Doctor's gaze to River, leaning against the TARDIS door, passing the key from hand to hand.
"Our way," Vastra said, uncertain, "is to remake where we are, as holy space."
"Then that's what we'll do," Jenny said, and kissed her wife in front of whatever gods might be watching, or not; and when she thought to ask a few minutes later, if perhaps a particular wedding custom of her people might not be honoured in the breach, Amy held the door and Rory bowed and the Doctor led the way to the dancing, the music and (in the shape of the spearhead of the glorious invasion) cake.
end.
note:
You may recall that this is a loose series of sorts: I've also done scenes from the wedding albums of Amy and Rory, Canton Everett Delaware III, and (now jossed), the Doctor and River.
raven is also at Dreamwidth: there is or are
comment(s). Comment there or here.