History is Written by the Victor - Ten Perspectives
The Price of Blood
The princess watched as the two men fought within the circle of onlookers. The one she loved used her father's own knife and the one she hated used a barbaric bone knife. They would decide the fate of the empire. She did not turn away even though she knew the outcome of this fight before it began.
As if summoned by her thought, the interloper struck and his dagger came up, imbedding itself deep in the soft underside of her beloved's jaw. She glanced at her father, his face ashen in the knowledge that his empire would be turned over to the man who just murdered his would-be son-in-law.
"Majesty, your force is reduced by one. Shall we shed this sham and pretense? Shall we now discuss what must be? Your daughter wed to me..."
She stopped listening then. Her mind raced. She was the only one left who could save the honor of her father's legacy. This was for more than king and country. This would be her last, and most important, duty. As this man's wife (but never his love) she had the chance to ensure that her father's work would not be lost to a conquerer's version of history.
Looking up, she saw the rage in her father's face. She had to stop this now. Mustering all of the regal elegance her blood afforded her, Princess Irulan, eldest daughter of the Padishah Emperor, Shaddam IV, stepped forward, touched her father's arm and spoke, "For this I was trained, Father."
His glance was sharp but, in that instant, he seemed to understand what his daughter was doing. On the surface, she was acquiescing but underneath, she was planning. She hoped he understood. From this moment forward, she was no longer his daughter but Paul Muad'Dib Atreides' loyal wife.
For the Love of a Master
(Big Trouble in Little China)
This is Jack Burton in the Pork Chop Express, and I'm talkin' to whoever's listenin' out there. Well, ya see, I'm not saying that I've been everywhere and I've done everything, but I do know it's a pretty amazing planet we live on here, and a man would have to be some kind of FOOL to think we're alone in THIS universe.
No. You're not alone, mortal. You never were. You have no idea what real loneliness is. When I was birthed in the Hell of the Oily Dragon, I was the only one of my family to survive the horror that was there. Young and vulnerable, I made my way to this world and lived amongst the yetis until they purged me from their ranks as tainted and not worthy of their domestic bliss.
I wandered alone and friendless through the mountains of China for centuries until, one day, a man found me. A man... a king... a warrior... who looked upon me with kind eyes and offered me a home, a family and a purpose. A home you destroyed. A family you murdered. A purpose you stole.
I am alone again.
Just remember what ol' Jack Burton does when the earth quakes, and the poison arrows fall from the sky, and the pillars of Heaven shake.
You left me with nothing but a single, overwhelming need to avenge the master who gave me over two thousand years of happiness. You cannot avoid this fate of your own making. You cannot reason with me. I have nothing left to lose. Now, my only purpose in this life is revenge.
Yeah, Jack Burton just looks that big ol' storm right square in the eye and he says, "Give me your best shot, pal. I can take it."
Starting with you.
The Death of Progress
(Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers)
Saruman the White and Grima stood high atop of the tower of Orthanc at Isengard, watching the demonic tree creatures as they attacked the land and the tower, demolishing all signs of the machines. The Ents were outraged at Saruman's attempt to bring this agrarian world into a new age of technology and progress. They did not care that their distant non-sentient brethren from the forest of Fangorn were used to stoke the fires of forges below. No, that was just a convenient story to tell the archivists who would, no doubt, put their own spin on this particular battle.
While watching the Ents' rapine of the land that had once been their home, Grima could not stop his tears. "What will they do to us?"
"They will do nothing - save tell lies to their children about us and what we tried to do here. They'll never capture us alive." Saruman, the last white wizard of this age, said as they both looked back into the wizard's workroom.
"We have only one chance to rid Middle Earth of those demons." The white wizard's bitter smile was hidden by his beard. "No doubt they'll write that we escaped to move on to visit greater evil upon this world. That's what scapegoats are for."
Grima nodded. "At least, we won't actually be here to see that travesty."
Saruman and Grima returned to the workroom and the technological marvel that they had created. It was a bomb of untold power and destruction. When the Ents had breached the walls and were coming for them, they would set it off. The brisant explosion would make certain that nothing of the tower, the invaders or the land would survive.
Gandalf the Usurper would have to go without Saruman's coveted magical and technological secrets forevermore.
The Force of Duty
(Return of the Jedi)
The emperor watched from his throne as father and son battled in a duel to the death. It was his duty to the Force that brought them here. The Force was about balance and those that had ruled long ago forgot that. They had all leaned to the side of Good, destroying that balance. It had been his duty to bring enough Evil into the universe to bring the Force back to the point it needed to be.
That was why the three of them were here. The father needed his chance at redemption. The son needed to give him that chance. The emperor stood. It was his honor to bring the Force back to balance. All of the lies, death and destruction had been the will of the Force. He would die, yes. But that was all part of duty, wasn't it?
The emperor urged the young Jedi to kill his father and join him, knowing that if all went as it should, the young Jedi would refuse. As the emperor struck the boy with dark lighting, ever urging him to join the Dark side, he prayed that the father had enough strength to save his son. Otherwise, all would be for naught.
It all came down to this moment for the emperor, the father and the son. The old man who had sacrificed so much, brought his considerable force to bear. Ignoring the father, though the words were more for him than the son, he said, "If you will not be turned, you will be destroyed."
The father did not disappoint him. As the emperor's apprentice lifted him above the railing and threw him into the shaft, the emperor's last thought as he gave himself over to the Force was, 'Finally, it is done and I may rest.'
Reading from the Book
(The Mummy, 1999)
Evie had played the American adventurer like a violin. It had been easy to convince him this was nothing more than a grand archeological expedition and not the mission it really was. Even her brother had played his part perfectly. Now, she had the Book of the Dead, taken from the sleeping Egyptologist. Rick spoke as she knelt in front of the fire and found the scarab puzzle box key.
"That's called 'stealing.'" He said from his bedroll.
The key clicked open and she used it to unlock the black, metal tome. "According to you and my brother, it's called 'borrowing.'" She did not turn around. She opened the book and saw that it was exactly as her parents said it would be in the Rite of Remembrance for Imhotep. She read softly from it in ancient Egyptian. If what she had been taught was true, this was all she needed to do to bring the First Architect back to life to rule the world.
"Are you sure you want to do that?"
Evie sensed Rick move from behind her to beside her as he spoke. She could not allow him to stop her now. "No harm ever came from reading a book."
"What's it say?" The curiosity in his voice was evident.
She glanced at Rick, read aloud and then translated it for him. "It speaks of the night and of the day." She would have read more but the sound of millions of locust insects, headed towards them from the desert, filled the air. This was the sign she had been waiting for. Her lord and master was returned to this world.
She smiled as she heard the Egyptologist scream from across the encampment, "No! You must not read from the book!" Of course, it was too late.
All That Glitters
"1500 people went into the sea, when Titanic sank from under us. There were twenty boats floating nearby ... and only one came back. One. Six were saved from the water, myself included. Six ... out of 1500. Afterward, the seven-hundred people in the boats had nothing to do but wait... wait to die... wait to live... wait for an absolution that would never come."
Rose turned from the young people who had no concept of what she spoke of. She walked away. In her pocket, her hand gripped the necklace, diamonds feeling as if they were cutting into her flesh. They did not understand what it was they looked for. It was not the iceberg that had killed them. It was the necklace. Then it chose her to bring it back to land to continue it evil works.
She had been willing to die at sea with Jack. But the cursed necklace refused to free her from the life she had tried to flee from so many times before. Instead, it filled her head with Jack's words of never giving up and made her speak the promise. It was a promise she had kept through the pain and loneliness of decades. All the while, the necklace did its evil around her with her helpless to do anything about it.
In the sunset of her life, Rose found the strength to do what she needed to do. She would save these foolish people from its curse. Even though she knew it meant her life to do so. Every ounce of evil in that gorgeous necklace fought her as she pulled it from her pocket and threw it into the ocean. It tore her soul from her body as it fell but Rose finally found own peace and absolution.
She was a beautiful and regal queen, standing above the shirtless, kneeling man in the dungeon. "'Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave.' Isn't that what you said to me?" Sara asked Jareth in a calm voice.
"Yes, but-" he began.
"Yes nothing!" Sara slapped the riding crop against the Jareth's back. "You once turned my baby brother into a goblin, reordered time and turned the world upside down for me but you cannot properly clean one little staircase?"
Jareth knew there was no right answer to his queen's temper tantrum. It was best to apologize immediately. "I'm sorry."
Sara reached down, grabbed a handful of Jareth's hair and yanked his head back. "You're not sorry. Not yet. Not by a long shot." She smiled a wicked smile. "But you will be soon enough.
Queen Sara gestured to her servants. Hoggle, looking his usual dower self, rolled out the Saint Andrew's Cross, while Ludo, that big, loveable monster picked up Jareth and brought him to the cross. Very quickly, the Goblin King was tightly bound, face first.
Sara walked over to her bound concubine, trailing one well manicured fingernail over his back. "Yes, it's time to make you very sorry." By the time she turned around, Sir Didymus had the rack of torture implements waiting for her. She smiled at them.
Hoggle quickly ushered himself and the rest of them out of the dungeon. I will never understand these games they play. The King is always the King and the concubine a concubine. This play they do doesn't make sense. He shrugged to himself as he closed the door. Well, it does leave Jareth smiling for days and whatever keeps him smiling, and me out of the Bog, is a good thing.
(Phantom of the Opera)
The Phantom of the Opera stood above Christine in the boat as he used his oar to push them along the underground river. As she watched him dip his oar into the water time and again, she felt the warmth of her lust rise into her bosom. For many nights he had brought her here to his lair beneath the theater.
Only recently had she mastered her senses and gained control of herself while in the Phantom's enticing trance. Long had she plotted tonight's seduction. Thus, the virginal white corset and stockings and the almost sheer robe. The same robe she allowed to slide away from her legs, revealing flesh all the way to her hips.
He wanted to teach her to sing. He had succeeded in that. More than he realized. Her soul soared at the thought of his touch and the sound of his voice. When she sang now, it was only for him. She sang with the feelings of her love and lust and all of those thoughts a proper woman should not have. However, beneath the theater, she was not a proper woman, was she? She was his muse and she would inspire him to new heights.
Last time she was here, she tried to subtly get him to kiss her but he was too shy, inexperienced and, she suspected, unsure with his mask. It was the mask that she adored and longed to touch. Yes, she had seen what was beneath it and it held no horror for her - after the initial surprise.
But, it was time for the teacher to become the student and the student to become the mistress. Tonight, she would reveal her lust for him and teach him all of the pleasures of the flesh he had missed out on.
The Price of Redemption
(Lord of the Rings: Return of the King)
Frodo stood on the ledge inside the cave overlooking the lava and the One Ring's prophesized doom. He was frozen there by his thoughts; a golem in man flesh. 'If he cannot be redeemed, neither can I. But if, in these last moments, Gollum can find redemption for all that he's done over the past 500 years, then there's hope for me. He must find redemption. I know he's here. Do I cast away his only chance to the lava below?'
"Destroy it!" Samwise yelled.
'No,' he thought as he looked at the ring, 'I must succumb to it. I must make Gollum make his choice.'
"Go on! Now! Throw it in the fire! What are you waiting for? Just let it go!"
Frodo could see the desperate fear and exhaustion on his friend's face. 'I'm sorry. You'll never understand why I do what I do.' He broke the chain holding the ring, "The ring is mine."
Frodo slipped it on his finger and felt himself fall into that darkness. 'Please, Gollum. Do what's right. Take it from me. Please. Take it from me and destroy it.' Frodo felt his hold on himself draining away as he stepped away from the edge.
Just as Frodo was about to despair and lose himself completely to the One Ring, Gollum was on him. Frodo fought. He could not help himself despite his desire to rid himself of the ring. This was Gollum's job and it was a job the lost hobbit, once known as Smeagol, did well.
Smeagol bit the finger and the ring off of Frodo's hand. Just before he fled, he whispered in Frodo's ear, "Smeagol save Master." Frodo barely had time to see Smeagol turn and leap over the edge to the ring's doom and his own redemption.
I Will Remember
(The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh)
This could be the room of any small boy, but it just happens to belong to a boy named Christopher Robin. Like most small boys, Christopher has toy animals to play with, and they all live together in a wonderful world of make-believe. But his best friend is a bear called Winnie the Pooh, or Pooh, for short. Now, Pooh had some very unusual adventures, and they all happened right here in the Hundred-Acre Wood.
This is also the room of unimaginable pain and fear for all of the toy animals that Christopher plays with. The games he likes to play in the solitude of his room in the tree involve knives and fire and all sorts of implements of torture. Christopher doesn't think he's doing anything wrong when he plucks out Eeyore's eye or cuts off Piglet's tail. They're just toys after all and they are here for his amusement.
Right now, Pooh is tied to his favorite chair with a jar of honey just out of reach. The sweet smell is tantalizing. However, that is not what has the little bear's attention. That is reserved for the boy before him, who is considering exactly how to remove the sole of Pooh's foot.
Christopher suddenly turned, "Pooh, promise you won't forget me, ever?"
Pooh shook his head, "Oh, I won't, Christopher, I promise." The bear knew this was the answer the boy wanted.
"Not even when I'm a hundred?" Christopher asked, playing with the scissors.
Numbers were not Pooh's strong suit. "How old shall I be then?"
"Ninety-nine." Christopher chuckled. "Silly old bear."
Pooh's heart sank as he said, "I will remember you for always. I promise." Ninety-nine was forever away. It was a promised eternity of torture by this little boy with the angelic smile and demonic heart.