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avandell2007-10-31 10:33 pm
theladyscribe) wrote in avandell2007-10-31 10:33 pm
Entry tags:
One in Hell as We Were Above (one-shot)
Title: One in Hell as We Were Above
Characters: demon!Casey (Paolo/Francesca [from The Inferno])
Rating: PG-13 (for content)
Word Count: 642
Summary: Love, which in gentlest hearts will soonest bloom, seized my lover with passion for that sweet body from which I was torn unshriven to my doom.
Notes: SPOILERS for Sin City. Crossover with (wait for it…) The Inferno, by Dante Alighieri (yes, that Inferno). And yet, it’s not crack in the slightest. Title and italicized text is from The Inferno. Many thanks toneetha, who inspired (and betaed!) this bizarre thing.
Characters: demon!Casey (Paolo/Francesca [from The Inferno])
Rating: PG-13 (for content)
Word Count: 642
Summary: Love, which in gentlest hearts will soonest bloom, seized my lover with passion for that sweet body from which I was torn unshriven to my doom.
Notes: SPOILERS for Sin City. Crossover with (wait for it…) The Inferno, by Dante Alighieri (yes, that Inferno). And yet, it’s not crack in the slightest. Title and italicized text is from The Inferno. Many thanks to
neetha, who inspired (and betaed!) this bizarre thing.One in Hell as We Were Above
She remembers meeting Paolo, all those centuries ago.
The town where I was born lies by the shore where the Po descends into its ocean rest with its attendant streams in one long murmur.
She was young then, and beautiful, a princess in every sense of the word. Francesca da Polenta was the treasure of her father and he doted upon her, but that did not stop him from arranging her marriage to Giovanni Malatesta in exchange for peace between their provinces. She did not mind when she met him, though; Giovanni Malatesta was a handsome man, and she fell in love with him almost immediately.
Love, which in gentlest hearts will soonest bloom, seized my lover with passion for that sweet body from which I was torn unshriven to my doom.
But her heart betrayed her, for the man she married was not the man she loved. Paolo Malatesta had been sent as a proxy for his brother Giovanni. Her heart was nearly shattered as they traveled back to Rimini together, knowing that they would be so close and yet could never be together.
Perhaps they were still too close, trying to deny their deep abiding love for one another but being unable to stay away for long (for Paolo felt the same magnetic pull that she felt). So it should not have come as a surprise that one day they gave in to their passions.
On a day for dalliance we read the rhyme of Lancelot, how love had mastered him. We were alone with innocence and dim time. Pause after pause that high old story drew our eyes together while we blushed and paled; but it was one soft passage overthrew our caution and our hearts.
They made love under the Mediterranean sunset, and that was the beginning of their doom. Their affair went undetected for some time, though many of Giovanni Malatesta’s courtiers gossiped about the friendship between his wife and his brother.
But all secrets are eventually found out, and this was no different. Giovanni discovered them one night after returning from a journey sooner than intended. He was overtaken with rage and murdered them even as they lay in bed, their fates sealed by his sword covered in blood.
For when we read how her fond smile was kissed by such a love, he who is one with me alive and dead breathed on my lips the tremor of his kiss.
Centuries passed, and she and Paolo drifted through Hell, learning the ways of the world. It was not so different than Earth, more free in many ways. Time stood still, passing quickly and never moving. They changed there, becoming more, gaining strength and power, forgetting everything from their lives before except their love for one another.
They heard stories of the world without, a place without marriages of alliance, a place where they would be free to love as they once had under the bright Mediterranean sun. They heard, too, of the hunters, the men and women who would return them to the place of darkness where they currently dwelled. The fear and almost-reverence with which the others spoke of these warriors was still not enough to keep them from fighting their way through the opened gate into the world without.
Love led us to one death. Love, which permits no loved one not to love, took me so strongly with delight in him that we are one in Hell, as we were above.
She remembers it all as the bullets sear her chest. The memories of her life before rush through her even as the electric shock of fire fills her being. She thinks for a fleeting moment that it’s ironic that she and Paolo will perish as demons the same way they died as humans – in each others’ embrace, killed by the sword.
She remembers meeting Paolo, all those centuries ago.
The town where I was born lies by the shore where the Po descends into its ocean rest with its attendant streams in one long murmur.
She was young then, and beautiful, a princess in every sense of the word. Francesca da Polenta was the treasure of her father and he doted upon her, but that did not stop him from arranging her marriage to Giovanni Malatesta in exchange for peace between their provinces. She did not mind when she met him, though; Giovanni Malatesta was a handsome man, and she fell in love with him almost immediately.
Love, which in gentlest hearts will soonest bloom, seized my lover with passion for that sweet body from which I was torn unshriven to my doom.
But her heart betrayed her, for the man she married was not the man she loved. Paolo Malatesta had been sent as a proxy for his brother Giovanni. Her heart was nearly shattered as they traveled back to Rimini together, knowing that they would be so close and yet could never be together.
Perhaps they were still too close, trying to deny their deep abiding love for one another but being unable to stay away for long (for Paolo felt the same magnetic pull that she felt). So it should not have come as a surprise that one day they gave in to their passions.
On a day for dalliance we read the rhyme of Lancelot, how love had mastered him. We were alone with innocence and dim time. Pause after pause that high old story drew our eyes together while we blushed and paled; but it was one soft passage overthrew our caution and our hearts.
They made love under the Mediterranean sunset, and that was the beginning of their doom. Their affair went undetected for some time, though many of Giovanni Malatesta’s courtiers gossiped about the friendship between his wife and his brother.
But all secrets are eventually found out, and this was no different. Giovanni discovered them one night after returning from a journey sooner than intended. He was overtaken with rage and murdered them even as they lay in bed, their fates sealed by his sword covered in blood.
For when we read how her fond smile was kissed by such a love, he who is one with me alive and dead breathed on my lips the tremor of his kiss.
Centuries passed, and she and Paolo drifted through Hell, learning the ways of the world. It was not so different than Earth, more free in many ways. Time stood still, passing quickly and never moving. They changed there, becoming more, gaining strength and power, forgetting everything from their lives before except their love for one another.
They heard stories of the world without, a place without marriages of alliance, a place where they would be free to love as they once had under the bright Mediterranean sun. They heard, too, of the hunters, the men and women who would return them to the place of darkness where they currently dwelled. The fear and almost-reverence with which the others spoke of these warriors was still not enough to keep them from fighting their way through the opened gate into the world without.
Love led us to one death. Love, which permits no loved one not to love, took me so strongly with delight in him that we are one in Hell, as we were above.
She remembers it all as the bullets sear her chest. The memories of her life before rush through her even as the electric shock of fire fills her being. She thinks for a fleeting moment that it’s ironic that she and Paolo will perish as demons the same way they died as humans – in each others’ embrace, killed by the sword.
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I really liked Casey in the episode, so when Neetha mentioned that they reminded her of Paolo and Francesca, I jumped at the chance to write the story.
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It just got hold of me and wouldn't let go.
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You aren't crazy at all! And this was really lovely. It made me happy to read them. I was really pretty sad when they died. :(
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Awesome job!
(Anonymous) 2008-03-05 02:01 am (UTC)(link)They are dead, again, together. No one lives without the other. It's too much romantic... but, then Sam is Gianciotto Malatesta, the murderer of two lovers (and the Paolo's brother)! I'm Italian and I thought that maybe you'd like to read your quote in the Dante's original language, so they are:
-Siede la terra dove nata fui
su la marina dove 'l Po discende
per aver pace co' seguaci sui.
-Amore, ch'al cor gentil ratto s'apprende,
prese costui de la bella persona
che mi fu tolta; (...e il modo ancor m'offende.)
-Noi leggiavamo un giorno per diletto
di Lancialotto come amor lo strinse;
soli eravamo e sanza alcun sospetto.
Per più fiate li occhi ci sospinse
quella lettura, e scolorocci il viso;
ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse.
-Quando leggemmo il disiato riso
esser basciato da cotanto amante,
questi, che mai da me non fia diviso,
la bocca mi basciò tutto tremante.
-Amor condusse noi ad una morte.
Amor, ch'a nullo amato amar perdona,
mi prese del costui piacer sì forte,
che, come vedi, ancor non m'abbandona.
This is how it sounds in Italian, I hope you'll like it and I hope my English wasn't too bad xD
Re: Awesome job!
And oh wow, the Italian looks beautiful (the translations always seem to pale in comparison).