#prydonian academy notices

[prydonian-academy-noticeboard]

URGENT NOTICE

The student known as Torvic has been reported missing by his roommates and several of his tutors. Classmates recall seeing him last at dinner two nights ago, where he announced he was “heading down to the River Lethe to have some fun.” He has not been seen since. Various students may be asked to report to the council for questioning. Any leads as to Torvic’s whereabouts will be considered invaluable.

Students are advised to stay alert in the meantime.

[intuitive-revelations]

“Guardians of the Edge”

Want to do a breakdown of the episode at some point, but this whole thing deserved its own post (heh...). So, what’s the deal with the ‘Edge’?

The telephone pole is interesting, but at first glance doesn’t seem to mean much other than a bit of abstract imagery to do with networks, as in the brain and memory centers.

I count 15 conductors (I’m sure there’s a proper name, but no idea what) on the post, with varing numbers of wires coming off them. Possible this might have something to do with regenerations, as since Hartnell there have been 15 regenerations at this point (including War, Metacrisis-Ten and Dhawan)? I thought the placement could possibly have something to do with the cycles (so 12 together, 3 separate) but that doesn’t seem to match up. Alternatively, excluding Dwawan it could represent 15 Doctor incarnations (including One as well as War and Metacrisis-Ten again.

Wires are much harder to count. I’m not even sure if it’s consistent between shots, as my counts have ranged from 26-34, though there’s also a lot of bloom in the sky and some are very close together, so it may be consistent after all. The number of connections seems to vary. If there were only one or two one-link conductors I would have assumed something to do with the before and after of each regeneration, with those potentially being Thirteen and the Meta-Crisis offshoot, with another with three maybe being Ten′s life, but that doesn’t seem to work.

Alternatively, maybe numbers of TV companions? (I haven’t checked if that could be accurate, but if anyone wants to test it feel free to run with it.)

As for the location, red dirt and rocks with an yellow-orange-blue sky immediately brings Gallifrey to mind. Of course it doesn’t need to be anywhere in particular, as the whole thing is a metaphor, but the dry terrain and surrounding mountains looks a lot like the Prydonian Drylands, which has of course been an important location for the Doctor. If it’s evening and the Suns are in the east (which they are for Gallifrey), then the mountains seen are probably part of the long range leading down from Prydonia and the Capitol to Southern Gallifrey proper.

There’s a few squarish structures that almost look like sunken buildings, but also could well just be rocks, it’s too hard to tell.

Notably, the ‘Edge’ not only seems to appear out of nowhere but also seems to move around slightly in distance from the post, suggesting perhaps that if this is based on a real location that it’s not a true part of it.

Personally, I think it’s appearance is likely strongly related to...

And yes, this works extremely well if you interpret the boy in the Timeless Child story as a previous (re)incarnation of the Master. Even if not literally true, the symbolism of the childhood friend pushing the other off a cliff in a jealous fight certainly works wonders.

I think the rest of the location is different however, since the rest of it looks like part of the Drylands, whereas the Timeless Child’s fall was almost certainly much closer to Mount Cadon, pretty much halfway between Mount Lung and the Academy (which I got during my Gallifrey map project, based on elements like the kids playing, the direction Tecteun approached, the Suns’ positions, surroundings etc.).

Fun fact, getting the above picture from Ascension of the Cybermen, I also noticed that some telephone / powerlines are also visible in Brendan’s story - apart for some fencing it’s the only sign of civilisation at the clifftop. 100% coincidental, but it’s fun annecdotal evidence for the Timeless Child backstory being the reason for the Edge subconsciously looks the way it does.

Little detail I didn’t notice originally watching, but I love - Eight isn’t the only one who diverged from the robes. Small continuity error I think in that he’s wearing it on his ring finger rather than middle finger, but I love the signet ring here

There’s also a little An Adventure in Space and Time music cue here, which was also used in The Doctor Falls / Twice Upon a Time.

The patterns on the robes don’t seem to be anything. Maybe some “daisy-est daisy“ / “blossomy-est blossom” symbolism with some of the flower-like patterns on One and Seven’s inner robes? One also does appear to have a pattern based on the Seal of Rassilon on his sleeves. Five has a recurring pattern that could almost be a sort of High Gallifreyan, while Six has what weirdly looks like a “3″ fabric pattern flipping backwards and forwards on his inner robes.

The red robes actually remind me a bit of the Merlin!Doctor - “Muldwych”? Colin in particular has an interesting resemblance with the pure-red robes and his larger frame.

Eight my beloved

As for why these specific incarnations? Beyond Doylist reasons of Tom being busy, actor deaths and New Who actors possibly being saved for next year, or at least being harder to get in (though in some ways I’m surprised David wasn’t used for a bit of foreshadowing)?

My person interpretation is that the similarity with Zagreus is quite deliberate. It was ultimately Five, Six and Seven who appeared to help Eight with his body being hijacked, so in a ‘life flashes before your eyes’ scenario, it’s not surprising that the Doctor’s subconscious imagining those personalities to help.

Hell, Eight even appears in his own outfit, as if he was the Doctor experiencing these events, because he has before! While it’s of course his looser Time War / Night of the Doctor outfit, it’s not hard to imagine the anti-time infected Eight of the audio in his worn out and damaged original outfit looking quite similar.

Presuambly this is the same place, at least metaphysically, that Eight met Five, Six and Seven. Like with Thirteen, they greeted and congratulated him, though in their case the mood turns sour as they realise Eight lost determination and thus the regeneration process stalled (which I always thought Night of the Doctor paralleled pretty nicely, with Eight essentially commiting suicide and failing to regenerate from Cass’s ship crash).

This might make the pole a visualisation of the Doctor’s Medulla Oblongata, which the past Doctors mention in Zagreus, though there it seems to appear as a constellation in the sky.

EIGHT: So what happens now? FIVE: Oh, you'll regenerate. You'll see this blaze of light, a comet across the medulla oblongata. SEVEN: A new star. SIX: Any second now.

As for One. Of course he’s a bit of a special rule as the ‘first’ kind of, but given he was the one that helped Twelve with his regeneration it’s not surprising he reappears here. His appearance could almost be considered a sequel, given that Twice Upon a Time featured his struggle with his own upcoming regeneration and now we get to catch up on him on the other side, with his sub-personality getting to speak with Thirteen, the result of Twelve’s regeneration, after going the ‘long way round’.

Finally on a meta-level, there is something interesting with the ‘ruining it for the next one’ line. It may be nothing... but could be considered a bit of a dig at Ten, not just with what’s happening with the 60th, but even the whole “I don’t want to go” thing, which I always considered a really rough way to hand over the show to Moffat and Matt after an extremely popular Doctor/era.

(And that’s not even mentioning the Metacrisis, the in-universe most extreme version of this, which Eleven also joked about with the “vanity issues” comment back in Time of the Doctor, and one could almost theorise left an erased incarnation somewhere between the Doctor’s “twelfth and final incarnations”...).

Granted, you could make the same criticism for Twelve’s regeneration reluctance going into Thirteen, though I’d argue that was handled way more tastefully (plus Twice Upon a Time‘s story arguably only exists because of Chibnall’s plans for releasing Series 11 anyway).

Personally, I see three options:

It’s nothing, purely a bit of heartwarming in-universe wording about handing over between incarnations (perhaps even lightly acknowledging the Six-Seven-Valeyard thing in the VNAs, given it’s Six who says it?).

It’s Chibnall having a dig at RTD (or possibly the BBC, if there was some upper-level pressure for Tennant’s return, as rumoured by tabloids for years) for the reasons above.

Best case scenario, IMHO? It is a bit of a dig at Ten, but it’s a deliberate in-universe setup for RTD to tell the story of whatever’s happening with Ten and Fourteen (yeah I don’t like calling Ncuti Fifteen either) which will confront it, in the same way this whole segment and the ‘degeneration’ process sets it up.

[irving-braxiatel]

For your AU prompts: Roll reversal AU with Romana/Brax ofc

I thought a lot about this AU and then realised I had way too much to fit into one fic. It took a while to narrow down where to place it in the timeline, and ended up settling on some post Time War angst

——-

Gallifrey had fallen five days ago. 

After this fact, the Time War had ended, now four days ago.

Romana’s TARDIS had landed on the green outside the mansion house of Braxiatel’s panetoid three days ago. 

It had been a busy week for the universe. For Romana, too. She had learned within minutes of her arrival that the planetoid’s owner had crashed his ship here two nights prior, as close to death as any being could be while still hoping to survive. 

Biology had never been her strongest subject, medicine even less so, but there was no one else left to advice the medics on how to save him. 

After a day he had woken up, but has made very little sense in his few waking moments. He was wounded, in such a way that regeneration was impossible, and feverish. 

Now another two days had passed and finally he was both awake and lucid. She has not been with him, far too busy repairing her TARDIS, but when she has heard naturally she had gone to see him. 

Braxiatel was sitting up in bed, sunlight and bird song and streaming in through an open window. 

“Ah, Good, you’re back. Look, if I must be confined in this bed, at least close that window, or I might have to get up and strangle that bird myself-” he finally realised that his guest was not who he had expected. “Romana,” he breathed, like he had just seen a ghost. 

“Braxiatel,” she greeted, moving a chair closer to his bed so she could sit next to him.

“Gallifrey is gone,” he said, without any grandeur. 

Romana nodded. “I know. I felt it.”

“You already knew it would happen,” he said matter-of-factly. “That was why you left, all those decades ago.”

“I didn’t know it would end like this,” she said, sighing deeply. 

He nodded, understanding. 

Romana had not given up on Gallifrey, only her people. She had left in the night, when it had become clear to her Gallifrey had become too corrupt for her to even start to make a difference. She had often thought Time Lords lived much too long, it was so easy to become jaded and cynical. 

“You knew too.” It was an accusation, perhaps, but not one with any ill feelings attached. 

He avoided her gaze. “I suspected. But if I had been certain I would have left sooner.”

“No word from future Braxiatel?” 

Now, he smiled. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about.”

“One would almost think your tutor at the academy had told you about the dangers of interacting with your own past or future selves.” 

“Oh I am certain she did,” he said. “She was rather brilliant.”

“Was?”

“Is,” he said, fondly. 

“That’s better.” 

This was nice. This worked. If they did not talk about what happened, they did not have to acknowledge the aching hollow in their minds Gallifrey’s collective presence had occupied until earlier this week. 

“I might have been a little enamoured by you, back in those days,” he admitted. 

Romana laughed. “I noticed.”

“I was trying to be subtle,” he protested.

“Trying being the operative word in that sentence.” 

“It was hard not to be. The youngest tutor in the history of the Prydonian Academy, only two decades older than I was, and yet you were the most brilliant person in all of the capital.”

Romana rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”

“To me you were.” 

Their eyes met and then, simultaneously they started laughing. Not because what she had said had been particularly funny, not because of their situation, but because here, after the dust of the war had settled, it was either that or crying, and neither of them was the type for that. 

Braxiatel studied Romana’s face carefully. If she had regenerated since he last saw her, it did not show. “Will you be staying for long, my lady?” he asked. 

“You sound very hopeful,” she commented. “And yes, I’m rather afraid I will have to. My TARDIS was very nearly pulled back to Gallifrey at the end. It took everything both of us had to escape. She needs time to recover.” 

“And you?” 

She raised and eyebrow. “I’m not the one on bed rest.” 

Braxiatel sighed, almost melodramatically. “I suppose you aren’t. Still, I will of course endeavour to ensure you enjoy your stay here at the Braxiatel Collection.” 

“You don’t have to,” she told him. “I will be on my way soon enough.” 

“Romana-” he said, he himself even surprised at the earnesty in his voice. “-I want you to stay. If you would like. I have missed you, over the last 200 years.” 

Romana took a deep breath, closed her eyes, as she suddenly found herself feeling very restless. 

“Braxiatel?” she asked. “What about now?” 

He frowned. “I’m sorry, my lady? I don’t follow where you are going.” 

“You said that when you were younger you were enamoured with me. What about now?” 

His next intake of breath was sharp, and she could see a tenseness in his jaw. 

“Only,” she said. “I missed you too, Braxiatel.” She put her hands on top of one of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“You did?” There wasn’t hope in his voice, because he no longer needed hope. He had known Romana for so long, and in all that time, feelings had always been a topic she tried her best to avoid. So to him, she could not have more plainly stated her affections for him. She was right here with him, and she wanted him. 

They both leaned forward, only stopping one they could feel one another’s breath on their lips. 

“Well?” she asked. 

“You are as brilliant as ever. And just as beautiful. I have never met a being as intelligent, as fascinating, as enchanting as you, my lady.” 

He felt her breath on his skin as she chuckled. “Flatterer,” she said, and leaned closer. 

The kiss was short and sweet, but this was such a long time coming neither of them wanted to rush into it. 

“I think I wouldn’t mind terribly staying a little while,” Romana said, smiling, her eyes not leaving his.

——-

Send me one+ AUs from this list and some characters (taking any combination but I am in a Romana/Braxiatel mood so prompts about those to I am far likely to be inspired by) and I will write some fic

[the--highlanders]

The Marketplace

The Doctor and Jamie enjoy their day off.

on ao3.

Glancing around himself nervously, Jamie fought the impulse to press himself closer to the Doctor, instead forcing himself to take a step away. Too many people had given them disapproving looks already for him to risk walking too close as they approached the heart of the citadel. “Are ye sure we should be here?”

“Of course!” The Doctor spun in a joyful circle as he walked, beaming up at the burnt orange sky above them. “It’s our day off. No missions, no pompous CIA agents telling us what to do, and the whole of Gallifrey at our fingertips.”

“Aye, but...” A tall figure dressed in immaculate red robes swept past them, looking over them disdainfully as they went. Jamie tugged at the hem of his kilt awkwardly, but the Doctor seemed not to notice. “We dinnae really look like we belong here.”

“No, we don’t,” the Doctor agreed cheerfully. He reached up towards the trees that arched across the wide road, plucking a waxy leaf and tucking it behind Jamie’s ear. “That’s half the fun.”

“Maybe for ye,” Jamie grumbled, but he stepped closer to the Doctor again, wrapping his arm around his waist. The contact settled the ball of worry in his stomach, and he relaxed his shoulders, looking around the street properly for the first time. “I’m no’ so keen on being stared at like we’re doin’ something wrong.”

“Don’t worry. I’m taking you somewhere a little more open-minded.” The Doctor gestured around them, taking in the intricate mosaics laid out beneath them, the buildings with their upper storeys hanging over the road, the bustling crowds of people all dressed in the same shade of red. “Besides, we’re in the ancient city of Prydos. This is the home of my chapter – and yours, too, since we’re married.” He nodded towards Jamie’s kilt. “And you’re in the right colour for the occasion, aren’t you?”

Jamie stopped dead in his tracks, pulling the Doctor to a halt beside him. “This is where you’re from? Why didn’t ye tell me earlier?”

“Well – not here, precisely, but -” The Doctor tapped his finger against his lips thoughtfully. “Near here somewhere, yes.”

Grinning, Jamie surveyed the people around them with fresh interest. His gaze settled on a gaggle of children, all quiet and serious until one tugged on another’s robe, setting them off into a squabble. “Did ye come here? When ye were a kid?”

“Ah – yes, I suppose I did.” The Doctor waved his hand uncertainly, setting off again at a brisk pace as if trying to run away from the question.

“Hey!” Jamie broke into a jog to keep up with him. “What’s the use of bringin’ me tae your old home if you’re gonnae be all mysterious about it?” He nudged the Doctor’s side, laughing. “I bet ye were a cute kid.”

The Doctor snorted. “I’m not so sure about that. I think I must have set some sort of record for inspiring my teachers at the Academy to retire prematurely. And I haven’t brought you here just to see my old home, you know.”

“Why have ye brought me here, then?”

The Doctor turned a corner so sharply and suddenly that Jamie was almost left behind, standing awkward and lost in the middle of the street before the Doctor caught his hand and pulled him on. They turned again, hurried down a twisting lane, and emerged in a large square, its grand expanse edged with overhanging buildings and crammed with stalls. Items of all kinds crowded the shelves and counters, spilling over onto the ground. Most of it was entirely alien to Jamie, but some of the wares were vaguely familiar to him, and a few even looked as if they came from Earth.

The centre of the square was taken up with a great hologram that flickered between galaxies and stars and plants, with the occasional tangle of circles that passed for writing on Gallifrey. A crowd of Gallifreyans was clustered around it, pointing towards the writing and talking amongst themselves. Jamie wondered briefly if the hologram was listing products for sale, or perhaps their prices, but found himself too distracted by the people to dwell on it. They seemed more relaxed than elsewhere in the city, standing closer and closer together, their uniforms looser and more varied.

When he glanced over at the Doctor, his face was filled with a rapture he had only seen a handful of times before.

“The Prydonian markets,” he said, breathless with excitement. “Best markets on the planet. Gallifreyan traders can go anywhere in time and space, and most of what they bring back ends up here.” He paused, leaning forwards to survey the stalls closest to him. “There, see – spices from seventy-second century Venus, carvings from the Hyxn cluster, a complete copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh...” He dove into the fray, leaving Jamie standing startled on the outskirts, and emerged a moment later with a pair of intricate glass vials, each holding a fizzing, pinkish liquid. “The elixir of life, taken directly from the sacred springs on Vidajh Minor. Guaranteed to make you feel three regenerations younger.

Taking one of the vials, Jamie shot him an incredulous look. “Is it real?”

“Hm?”

“The elixir of life. Does it really work?”

The Doctor laughed, downing the liquid in his vial. “Not at all.” He took Jamie’s elbow, leading him on a meandering path through the square. “But – ah – it has a marvellous flavour. It used to be quite the treat, when I was at the Academy.”

Jamie frowned down at his drink, then took a cautious sip. “It’s a wee bit like strawberries, isn’t it?” Linking his arm through the Doctor’s, he gazed out at the hive of activity that surrounded them. Merchants displayed their wares eagerly, currency of all shapes and sizes was passed around, and the silent fog that seemed to lie over the rest of the city was lifted. It was a livelier and friendlier place than Jamie had ever seen on Gallifrey, and he wondered if the Doctor had thought the same, when he was a child. “Hey, did ye pay for these?”

The Doctor scowled at him a touch too indignantly. “Of course I did.”

“Of course ye did.” Smiling to himself, Jamie decided to tactfully change the subject. “I thought your people didnae believe in interferin’ with other planets?”

“Trading and interfering are – ah – two quite separate things,” the Doctor explained. “The traders take precautions when they visit pre-contact times, and border control scans each product to make sure nothing of temporal significance is brought in. They say a shipment of Earth fruits had to be sent back once, because the trader had brought in the apple that started the fourth Martian revolution.” He lowered his voice, leaning in closer to Jamie. “I don’t know if that story is true, but I do know that I was the one who threw the apple.”

Jamie laughed, shaking his head. “I wouldnae have thought people here would buy this stuff, though. It’s no’ like they’re keen on me being here.”

“Well, buying something from another world and having an alien neighbour are two different things, too,” the Doctor pointed out. “Most of the people here haven’t ever left the planet, let alone our system. The chapters’ markets were a convenient way of giving people something exotic without them having to leave Gallifrey.” They crossed the street to lean against the railing that bordered it, looking out over the city as the land fell away beneath them. The Doctor smiled wistfully, staring out across the endless plain below the great mound of the city. “But it was never enough for me.”

“Aye, I can imagine,” Jamie said softly. “An’ I cannae imagine that you’re too happy tae be back.”

The Doctor glanced around them surreptitiously, clearing his throat. “Well – of course not. I’d rather not be doing their bureaucratical work. And it’s true, I don’t get along with other Time Lords – but Gallifreyans, that’s quite another matter. The planet isn’t entirely full of dusty old aristocrats, you know. I just couldn’t stand to be one of them.” He nodded back towards the markets. “I know we can be rather – ah – difficult to live with, but I’d like for you to be happy here.”

Jamie bumped his shoulder against the Doctor’s. “’Course I’m happy. Ye know I’m happy so long as I’ve got ye.”

“Well – yes, of course I know that.” The Doctor twisted his hands together, looking a little flustered. “But it doesn’t hurt to make sure, does it?” He fell silent for a long, thoughtful moment. “I suppose I needed something of a reminder, too. That there’s still something beautiful here.” He pushed himself away from the railing, turning to trot back towards the markets. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder, his nonchalance a jarring change from his earlier seriousness. “I’ll get you another elixir of life.”

“Aye, alright. So long as ye pay for them this time.”

[theother-timelesschild]

*Doctor tinkering on various things at the console.*

*Yaz walks in with 2 teas, walks up and sets one down on the console, then moves to lean against a column*

*the Doctor still tinkering doesn’t notice, or so Yaz thinks.*

*Doctor on a loop around the console grabs a drink*

13: Thanks Yaz! Just what I needed.

13: Is it “morning”, are Ryan and Graham up too?

Yaz: No, couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d come see how you were doing.

13: I’m fine, fine. why wouldn’t I be? Aren’t you tired.

Yaz: nope, I was on second shift this week use to late hours, and You called to picked us up in the middle of the night. You won’t even tell us what happened on Galli... *Doctor interupts*

13: Ah, so you’re the reason the TARDIS landed at midnight, you just got off shift.

Yaz: Well yes, but what does.. *Doctor interupts*

13: The TARDIS wants me to talk to you.

Yaz: I’m trying but you keep interrupting.

13: Have I told you the TARDIS is sentient? Once the TARDIS’s soul was stolen , put in a body, it was nice, we got to talk with mouth’s and everything for a little while, except that she was dying. She doesn’t always take me where I want to go, but she always takes me where I need to be when I need to be there.

13: In emergencies you can activate a voice interface. If she likes you, she’ll be nice about it. *TARDIS hums agreeably*

Yaz: Why is it only for emergencies why can’t you talk to the tardis with mouths and everything all the time?

13: Believe me ...timelords tried, but it doesn’t work, a 12th dimensional Matrix can’t exist that way.

Yaz: Doctor.. . *Doctor interupts*

13: Yaz, have I told you my rules?

Yaz: Yea, rule 1 no guns.

13: hm, the rules numbers change all the time, I’ve had many different rule 1s.

13: Rule 1 use to be “Don’t wander off.” But as I’ve gotten older I’ve had to move that back to replace old rule 2: Stick close to me.

13:  when I was a grey-haired Scotsman Rule 1 was : “Use your enemies’ power against them.”

13: For bow tie sometimes rule 1 was: “There is always a plan.” However it was more like a thing, like a plan to have a plan.

13: Other times rule 1 was: “the Doctor lies.” I’ve been trying to not use that one.

Yaz: well I’m glad your not using that rule anymore, it’s not right.

13: No that Rule 1 can be about kindness, It’s not about right or wrong, Yaz....It’s more complicated than. It’s about foreknowledge and that can be cruel and dangerous. If you’re not careful you can create fixed points, things that can’t be changed, sometimes those things can be bad.

Yaz: How can lies be about kindness?

13: Have I told you but my wife? *yaz gives a look* your right I know I haven’t, she’s a time traveler too, you may even meet her sometime. Professor River Song, PhD. 51st Century, Luna University, Archeology Department, if you ever need to look. *pause*.

13: I met her the day she died. Are you telling me that next time I met her when she was younger and it would have been a kindness for me to tell her I saw her die.

Yaz: Yes, maybe if you’d have warned her, so it could have be prevented.

13: No, Yaz because she told me about the last time I saw her. How I cried as the towers sang because I knew where she was going, and she made me promise not to change one line of our story because if I did, if i took her place that day then we would never have met,and she wouldn’t have been who she was / who she became. And quite possibly it would’ve created a universe ending paradox. When I first met her I used to hate her word “spoilers”, but then over the centuries “spoilers” became best word ever. Because it meant we would see each other again.

Yaz: whispers “centuries”.... why spoilers?

13: Because it was a way to say I know something about the future but I can’t tell you, I’m sorry and I’m not going to make up a lie to you about what that something is, just to give you an answer to your question. Because there’s a chance if you don’t know, you can make changes, if those changes ripple outword and so long as they don’t create waves, somethings don’t have happen the way I remember, they can happen the way You will remember, and time will fix everybody’s memories. Well, if I was the one with the spoiler it wouldn’t fix my memories I would end up with two sets of memories but otherwise most people won’t notice, but I’m a timelord. It’s like how when younger versions of me meet older versions of me, only the oldest of us remember what happened, but we still remember what the younger versions thought, felt, and believed.

Yaz: Timelord?

13: A bit pretentious I know, but that’s what those that mastered time decided to call themselves. Those in the Outerlands...are the Shobogans. Anyway, as children when we are eight we are taken and tested before the untempered schism, those that...pass, join a Chapter and attend the Academy; Timelord, school, so to speak.

Yaz: What’s the schim and what’s a Chapter, like a degree program?

13: Not exactly, Gallifrey is not like Earth, there is one central government and It is based on the old caste system. The Chapters represent the original six ruling families or Houses, and associated sub-Houses. Generally those of us of the Old Houses are expected to stay within our Chapters., unless of course an alliance amongst the other Chapters would be advantageous.

Yaz: What was your house?

Oh, House was once a Noble House perched on the west side of Mount Lung overlooking the Cadonflood River south of the Citadel. *Pause* You don’t mean....you mean the name, Lungbarrow was one of the senior Prydonian Houses. It was once a family of wealth and privilege but over the centuries it stagnanted and only produced petty servants and clerks. Could you imagine me a clerk, for one of the High Council. Uhhh. nope couldn’t be that still for lives on end, although once I was a lecturer for 70 years... Oh, I need to go back clear out my office, St Luke's University in Bristol.

13: Enough of the past, back to lies being about kindness, say I jumped forward in your timeline, picked you all up one midnight before Christmas and then you all were asking me questions wanting answers to things that haven’t happened yet for me; I try to change the subject but you still end up telling me things I don’t know. It’s going to force my hand to do those very things you spoke about. If I try to do something to change the things you told me, It’s not gonna end well, I can already see the timelines solidifying around me. My course for Gallifrey and Master is set. Would you want to know that, or would it be kinder for you to not know that?

Yaz: *hand to mouth* Doctor, no!

13: Yes, I’m sorry, to burden you so. Do you want Ryan and Graham to know? Do you want to remember?

Yaz: You say that like remembering is optional...

13: It is

Yaz: You could wipe my memory of this conversation?

13: A human compatible neural block would make it easier, but yes, I could make you forget it....all, no memory of the future, space or time travel...or meeting Rosa or Tesla... or just a little bit of this conversation...

Yaz: Have you, before?

13: Not to my Fam.

Yaz: That’s not a no, just that you haven’t done it to us.

13: I don’t make a habit of it, only if it’s needed to protect the future, or a life. Well what do you say?

Yaz: I want to remember, but I don’t think Graham and Ryan need to be told, but if they find out you aren’t the you we last saw, they get to deside for themselves. Okay?

13: Okay, yes. Yaz, you don’t know me, and it’s my own fault, I haven’t told you things. I’ve lived for over 2000 years, and not all of them good, I’ve made many mistakes, in part It’s why I have so many rules. also why I don’t travel alone. I’ve been negligent with you all. I thought if you didn’t know my past, that you couldn’t get hurt by the things you didn’t know.

Yaz: that seems a bit naive, given your age.

13: Yea, well I realize that, but I had hope. I don’t know what happened after you last saw me, but here are some other old rules that you could find useful; like number 7: Never run when you are scared; Rule 8: Never ignore a coincidence. Unless you're busy, then always ignore a coincidence. Rule 27: Never knowingly be serious. Rule 408: Time is not the Boss of you. And Never give up, never give in.

I don’t have a number for this, its just an in the TARDIS rule: No being sick and no hanky-panky. Caveat, unless you aware of the risks of having a baby with a “time head”.

Yaz: a time head”?

13: Yeah, that’s what Amy called it, I didn’t take her worry seriously and I should have. Her and Rory’s daughter was born human plus.

Yaz: Plus what?

13: Plus, Stuff. Like arton energy from the vortex woven into her DNA, a triple helix, like my people, two hearts, and a keen sense of time. The people who took Amy did experiments, tried to cooked themselves more timelords, make clones. They did succeed in sending me my very own bespoke psychopath. Programmed an assssin to kill me when we first met, she also saved my life that same day, as first dates go it was mixed messages. 

Yaz: Doctor!!

13: No, worries, I married her. Hang on, woven, wait....I need to see her files from Demons Run, again, Later though. Now back to rules: Never use weapons, unless the damage can be repaired. I haven’t given it a number yet, but I’m sure it’s in the top 10.

13: Never be Cruel, Never be Cowardly. Never eat pears. Remember hate is alway foolish, Love is always wise. Always try to be nice, but never fail to be kind. Laugh hard, run fast, be kind. These are rules I told myself a half hour before I met you all, When I had a different face.

Yaz: You weren’t joking when we first met about being a Scotsman or being thousands of years old?

13: Actually if you count the time I was trapped in the confession dial, I’m over 4 1/2 billion years old. Although since I kept dying and being reset and all the skulls in the bottom of the water were me, yea, lets say we don’t count all those years I spent punching a hole in a wall of diamond.

Yaz: that’s horrible! Why and Who did that to you?

13: The Lord President Rassilon himself and the rest of the High Council of Gallifrey. Don’t worry not everyone was like that, the kind people, the good people, the regular people, those who saw my actions during the Time War, the citadels guards that refused to execute me, They stood by me as I kicked Rassilon and the rest of the High Council off my planet. My title as the Lord President, restored once again.

Yaz: Your....thats....Better than a clerk.

13: Not really, no travel benefits, I tricked them though, because they tricked me and it cost Clara her life, I had them bring Clara out of her timestream, heartbeat frozen in the moment just before her death, then I stole a TARDIS and ran away again., Only this time I didn’t designate a Lord Regent my place. In fact I have no idea if Rassilon just returned soon after I was gone.

*Long Pause, Doctors gone silent, thinking*

Yaz: Doctor, Who are people you’ve mentioned: Amy, Rory, and Clara. Past us? Past “fam”? And where are they now?

13: Friends, In-laws even, The Ponds, Amy and Rory Williams they lived a long life, in the past. I couldn’t get back to 1938 I barely got there the first time. In fact I can’t take you to New York anytime during their lifetime there. The tardis just can’t go there. Their daughter River, with her vortex manipulator found away, she would send me updates and take messages back-and-forth.

13: I don’t know what happened to Clara, I took her someplace, I thought her heart would restart, it didn’t. It was an untenable solution one of us had to lose all of our memories of the other. Clara the impossible girl that met me over and over throughout time and space. I mean it’s entirely possible that we could still meet one of her fragments somewhere along my timeline.

Yaz: So, that means....

13: I lost my memories of her. Before I died, before I regenerated into this face, I was given a gift that returned my memories of her. I don’t know if that means she returned to the moment of her death or if she is still somewhere out in the universe traveling in a stolen tardis with Lady ME/ Ashildr.

Yaz: She can pilot a TARDIS, is she also a timelord?

13: No, a human, I told her too much, I taught her too much. and she became too reckless, like me.

13: she was following rule 1: “Use your enemies’ power against them.” She came up with a plan, she didn’t tell me the plan before going forward with it. I was doing that more then, letting her take the lead.....she was told “You can pass the Mark on, but you can’t cheat death.” And she was trying be clever and cheat, because that’s what I did, that’s what I taught her to do. But she was lacking key knowledge of the Shades true nature and the contract of the mark.

Yaz: Because you didn’t tell her?

13: I realized too late, my interactions with Mayor/Lady Me, even my very act of saving Ashildr’s life all those centuries ago could have brought her to Gallifrey’s attention, especially that early in earths history, all the prophecy’s about the Hybrid, Timelords can be a devious lot, none more so than those of the Prydonian Chapter especially the Grand Master himself, Lord President Rassilon. They knew Mayor ME was a hybrid, but somehow they’d eliminated her as the threat. But if I’d created one Hybrid how many others might I have made, they wanted to know who the hybrid threat to Gallifrey was and thought I knew, So they laid a trap, On a trap street and Clara died, and I was angry.

Yaz: Didn’t you say, your family was of the Prydonian Chapter. Calling them devious, doesn’t sound like you are a fan?

13: On the contrary, Prydonians were noted for their cunning and deviousness and honesty about it, it is those that forsworn their vows as a Prydonian, that are especially dangerous. Like The Master. A Chancellor from another chapter once lamented that the Prydonians were comprised of "renegades, fugitives, lunatics and ingrates". I suppose that is the true to a certain extent there was a group of about 10 of us from our year that all left for various reasons, just a well, we would have made terrible politicians. *pause* It’s never good for me to be angry. I can go too far. There are those that call me the Oncoming Storm, the Destroyer of Worlds, the Imp of the Pandorica, the Beast of Trenzalore, the Butcher of Skull Moon, and in the Language of the Gamma Forest the Doctor means mighty Warrior. I once destroyed the entire Twelfth Cyber Legion for a Message.

Yaz: Well, good, Cybermen nearly wipeout the Human Race.

13: No, not good, Not justified, they hadn’t done that, yet...That cyber fleet monitored their local galactic quadrant, They knew the exact location where Amy was being held, and I wanted to send a message, just to make a point to the people that took Amy, to know I was coming for them.

Yaz: Its understandable, she is your mother in-law.

13: Except I didn’t know that, not then. She was my best Friend, and they stole her from us...me & Rory, they had her for at least 6 months, They were using Flesh, sending a signal into the TARDIS, all the time, her mind was with us, but her actual body was with Madam Kovarian all the while she was pregnant with their daughter Melody.

Yaz: I thought their daughter was River?

13: “the only water in the forest is the River”. The TARDIS told that to Rory, when Sexxy had a human body. Didn’t get the reference at the time.... In the Language of the Gamma Forests Melody Pond is River Song.

Yaz: Like how for them your name means Mighty Warrior?

13: Yes, it was a warning from my wife, what I might become if I continued down that path, The Oncoming Storm, able to turn armies around at the very mention of my name. Able call upon an army of my own friends...

Yaz: That’s...hard to imagine, you leading an ar... *Doctor interrupts*

13: I was running around being clever, orchestrating things from behind the scenes until the big reveal. Demon’s run, but count the cost. The Battle’s Won, but the Child is lost.

Yaz: what is that? you mentioned Demons run earlier, I thought I was a place.

13: it’s from a Poem, as old a time, about a what happened at Demons Run...where that place got its name, like I said a warning from my wife, the very child that was lost.

Yaz: will you tell me the full poem?

13: *hmmm* I sent Rory to call on River to join the fight, she said it was her birthday and she couldn’t show until the end ....I was so slow...she couldn’t be there as an adult, because she was already there as the child. “Demon’s run when a good man goes to war. Night will fall and drown the sun, When a good man goes to war. Friendship dies and true love lies, Night will fall and the dark will rise, When a good man goes to war. Demon’s run, but count the cost. The battle's won but the child is lost.”

Yaz: What happened did you find the child, River...Melody, did you reunite her with Amy and Rory?

13: *sigh* No, little Melody Pond was not returned to her mother, but Mels Zucker did grow up with her mother and father, as best friends. The Ponds worked it out, they traveled with me off an on for about 10 years. I traveled on my own for about 200 years of it...well, not all on my own, I ran into River alot during that time.

13: It’s never been good for me to travel alone. The TARDIS knows that, I think that’s why I couldn’t get you all home right away. My wife, after Darillium, she sent me Nardole. Did you know a night on Darillium is 24 earth standard years, and oh did we stretch out those years, but always back from an adventure five minutes after we left.

Yaz: Are sure it was 5 minutes later on the same day?

13: Very funny, was late 12 months late once, besides it was River that got us home on time. The TARDIS taught River how to pilot her, *TARDIS makes a pleased sounds*

Yaz: Oh, could the TARDIS teach, us how to as well? *TARDIS makes a sad noise*

13: Not in the same way, River is a child of the TARDIS, with natural telepathic abilities, and they have a special bond, as a TARDIS does with its pilots. You’d have to use the telepathic interface, and concentrate on exactly where and when you want to be, if you stay focused and not waver, then she should take you where you need to be.

Yaz: Pilots, plural?

13: Yaz, There are 6 sides to the console for a reason, it is meant to be flown easily with 6 pilots, 2 minimum, 1 if all maneuvers are pre-planned and plotted, before leaving.

Yaz: *grins*

13: Yaz, I”m concerned about what you said when I picked you up.

Yaz: I’m surprised you heard anything, the way you were interrupting..

13: *sigh* the last human I traveled with Bill, just before I meet all y’all, she got converted into a Cyberman, and I laid dying on the battlefield. Don’t know what happened to Nardole. I don’t even know how I got back to the TARDIS or how she got me out. However remember this; in an emergency you can ask the TARDIS for the voice interface, and use the telepathic circuits.

Yaz: Would that work with any TARDIS, or just yours?

13: hm, best with this old girl *pats a column and TARDIS hums agreeably* I doubt you could just take one from Gallifrey without a Timelord to disable the security protocols, but if that was done, it could, maybe work.

Yaz: how would I know if the protocols were disabled?

13: *sets tea cup down* come on, off to one of the old desktops, I’ll show you.

*later a Cloister bell tolls and a Dalek warning “you will be exterminated” sounds through out the TARDIS*

—————— After Adventure relaxing ———————

*Night - Khan home, with fam & The Doctor - laughing and holiday cheer *

*Yaz and the Doctor quietly talking*

Yaz: So this is it then...one last adventure...just dangerous enough to make us consider giving it all up.

13: Yes, but Yaz, you don’t have too, if you don’t want to.

Yaz: How? You said your path to Gallifrey is set...

13: I do have a TARDIS, the T does stand for Time...we could go the long way ‘round.

Yaz: Doctor...

13: What do you say, you could log some actually piloting time with the telepathic circuits?

Yaz: Then what? One day you just drop me back off here on this night? Never knowing what happened after we left Gallifrey.

13: Look if I can I’ll come back. I will, and if I can’t, I’ll ask the TARDIS to come find you and to take you to whomever can help you find out what happened. Deal?

Yaz: Well I think, even if I don’t don’t run off with you, you’ll need to do that last part anyway. 

—————— LATER ——————

*A new Year, Yaz stands before the console in the TARDIS, the telepathic circuits exposed.*

Yaz talking to the TARDIS: Let try, Earth, just a few years ago, St Luke's University in Bristol.

*later*

Yaz talking to the TARDIS: Alright, that wasn’t so hard was it? Just that a few years to you means any time in the last 70 years of teaching, should’ve been a little more specific, but at least we found Bill on the last trip...what do you think, jump to the last day? Or little hops?

*TARDIS lands in its old spot, Yaz quietly leaves and notices packed boxes around, hears voices in the hallway.*

Man: I’m sorry you just can’t enter.

Woman: I assure you I have every right to be here, and if you just check you’re files you will easily verify all I’ve said. I can wait, I don’t mind.

Man: *Huffs* This is still most irregular, you should have called in advance, we could have avoided all this unpleasantness, wait right here. *walks off*

Woman: wouldn’t dream of moving.

*suddenly woman walks into the rooms* I thought he’d never leave * spots Yaz* Are you my Ride, Detective?

Yaz: *supprized* Um, well, Yea, sure, I could help....

Woman: Ah. My apologies. PC Khan, Could you grab those boxes by the desk? There are just a few things in the other room for me to get. Meet you in the TARDIS.

*Yaz pacing the around the console*

*Woman walks in with 2 more boxes and a guitar, puts down boxes next to the others, and sets the TARDIS to leave.*

Yaz: *stops* See the thing is, I haven’t met you yet, I’m not sure, but I think I know who you are.

Woman: And whooooo am I?

Yaz: The Doctor’s wife, Professor Song.

River: Oh! I knew I liked you, got it one. *presses buttons on data pad* Low level perception filter. *Does a pirouette* What do you think?

Yaz: *Looks toward the boxes* you look just like your photo.

River: Not bad for nearly 300, *looks at photo* Sentimental old hippie, that’s from the day of our first kiss, practically died that day.

Yaz: But you saved him.

River: Well, you are well informed, I am supprised.

Yaz: And you’ve been to Darillium, then? You said your nearly 300...the Doctor said you were just over 200 at Darillium.

River: *walks around the console* Spoilers, so where shall we go, what is your plan?

Yaz: *puzzeled* I hadn’t gone past trying to find you at Luna University in the 51st Century.

River: Ah, well then lets get Missy’s vault, and make sure I recieve the message Nardole left for me.

Yaz: You know what happened to Nardole? The Doctor, she didn’t remember.

River: No...I suspect I may need to send the message to myself. Absolutely not, we can’t go to Gallifrey. What century were you in?

Yaz: *gasps* 61st, she said you had natural telepathic abilities.

River: I’m practically untrained, you must have been thinking aloud. Had you been there long, know anyone from that time, that is still there?

Yaz: No, but a Captain Jack did Scoop us up from Gloucester, with a warning about the Cyberman, so he could be from that time.

River: Harkness, really... alright, and don’t tell him I’m married to the Doctor, he’s always trying to find out to whom I’m married too, it’s practically a game at this point.

*takes off guitar and sets coordinates*

—————— Later ——————

Yaz: Your not coming with us, are you?

River: No, I’ll look after the other TARDIS, never know when you might want one that knows how took like a House.

Yaz: You haven’t been to Darillium yet, have you?

River: *smirks* that would be telling, and were is the fun in that...You know I’ve read a diary from a Victorian Era Lady, there is ample evidence that all the Lady’s of her social circle were 35 for years.... when my parents first started traveling with the Doctor in their early twenties, I was never less that 35 when I saw them as River.... so what’s century or so when married to an ageless god.

———————

*Doctor emptying the boxes from St Luke’s; sadly looking at River’s photo*

Yaz: Doctor, I think we’ll see River again, when she first saw me beside the TARDIS she called me Detective...

13: Well it does say police on it, she’s flirty like that.

Yaz: Except she apologized right away and corrected to PC Khan, before we even got to introductions....

13: *looks up and grins* Spoilers......

[ofgallifrey]

Masterpost of Femverse things

Character spreadsheet

Verse primer 

Recent events, in roughly chronological order (from an in-Universe perspective):

There was a riot at the Academy, with alien students throwing rocks at the Chancellery Guard, President Romana defused the situation. 

Wynter got roped into patrolling the Prydonian Academy and happened upon Ace blowing up statues of Rassilon. They accidentally became friends, Ace flirted with her.

Ace and Darkel have a disagreement, Darkel gets the idea to frame Ace for her planned Academy-bomb-plot. Darkel and Narvin have a more formal disagreement over the value of statues of Rassilon versus the lives of the Chancellery Guard. Wynter updates Romana on the aftermath of the riot.

Ace gets Narvin a puppy. Narvin doesn’t want a puppy, even an incredibly cute dachshund, and fobs her off on to Wynter. 

Wynter seeks advice on how to care for Gale, puppy of Omega, from Ace, Ace ends up introducing her to snow and seedy space bars, Matrix!Tre is writing fanfic about them, they’re pretty much dating even if they don’t know it yet.

Academy Romana arrived. At some unspecified point Ace struck up a friendship with Matrix!Tre and also gave her new boss dating advice? It was surprisingly successful.

A Romana straight out of the Time War arrived and ended up casually mentioning that Narvin started said war. Narvin decided she has to Oubliette herself from existence because she’s too much of a danger to Gallifrey, Romana calls for the nearest Leela and they restrain her. Narvin calls for Andred, who isn’t inclined to help, and Leela calls for Brax. 

Romana and Leela had an emotional reunion, until Romana accidentally revealed that she’s currently very fatalistic and thinks the best way to solve the drama she’s created is to erase herself with the Oubliette instead. Leela almost locks her in with Narvin but leaves after she promises to just sleep and not do anything rash.

While in a cell, Narvin tries to convince Braxiatel to support her suicide mission. It ends… badly, but Narvin has an important epiphany. 

Leela and Andred had a heated conversation. Understandably, they’re too distracted to notice Narvin escaping her cell.

Narvin curls up and breaks down in her TARDIS. Her TARDIS shows more emotional intelligence than the rest of Gallifrey combined and takes her to Ingrid. This time the Brax-talking-Narvin-down-from-the-edge conversation goes much better, there’s talk of breakfast, and no threats of destroying the planet. Narvin’s TARDIS is the real hero here, clearly.

Romana can’t sleep and breaks her promise to Leela, leaving the safehouse. She bumps into the native verse Leela, and lets her think she’s the native Romana. Leela demands answers and Romana manages to appease her. She’s currently pretending to be femverse Romana and is hanging out in her office with Leela, continuing to make questionable decisions. 

To summarise, Narvin, Ingrid, and Romana are all planning to tell President Romana that her planet is full of interlopers from other Universes, an unusual amount of which are alternate versions of herself which will definitely make things better, that her Coordinator and Cardinal have been hiding it all from her, and that most of their counterparts foretell of war, chaos, and general destruction. Naturally, they’re going to get there near enough at the same time.

[theirbestenemii]

SIMM!MASTER : SECONDARY-MUSE -CANON-DIVERGENT - NEW-WHO

This muse is a secondary muse and for request or when I put up starters, only.

FC: John Simm.

Current Name: The Master

Graduated Name: The Master

Academy: Koschei

Chapter: Prydonian

House: Oakdown

Alias: Harold Saxon, Mr. Razor, 

Age: Unknown - 900+?

Regeneration No#: Unknown

‘Gender’: Non-Binary - Male

Tardis: T.B.D

——-///——-

After; regenerating from YANA, stealing the TARDIS, making the paradox machine and taking over earth - The Master tried his best to get his friend to talk to him, but everything he heard was - ‘Master, Stop this.’ 

Then His plans were ruined... and for a split moment, his hearts were beating rapidly, thinking he would be a prisoner on the TARDIS, a ship that hated him quite a bit, trapped, not in control.... the drums screamed in his mind, matching the panic in his veins... and then Lucy, blessed, poor lucy - the stupid girl who had fallen into depression once she realized what she had done, shot him...

And he took that as a way out.  refusing to re generate and died.  He had a back up plan, dont worry... but STUPID LUCY ruined THAT as well.

His resurrection went wrong, he was burning his life force, and there was nothing he could do about it... so he killed the human race and turned them into the MASTER race... and it wasn’t the doctor who stopped him this time...

No... it was Gallifrey and Rassilon himself. The drums were a lie, haing ruined his whole life and they were all but something to help the insane president of his dead planet.

After saving the doctor from rasillon and sacrificing himself to the TimeWar, the master was not granted mercy, no, rassilon had him sent to the prisons... and dealt with.

The Master: Having escaped Gallifrey, (they were too focused by the fact that there was no president to notice) is now in his own TARDIS, having stolen that and rather bitter over the fact that the doctor had not been looking for him.

[iamthestrangerinmoscow]

Nail Polish

Doctor Who, rated G, ~2000 words, Thoschei/Twissy implied

Just a fun little thing I wrote about Theta Sigma, Koschei and bottle of black nail polish. 

-...if you flip to section 13 point 4 of your books, you will find another, more detailed explanation of this theorem. Pay attention to calculations for secondary elements, especially combinatorial topological spaces. - The Professor lifted his tired eyes from the holographic lightboard and peered into the lecture hall. Four thousand years of teaching the same course, again and again, and barely any satisfaction. - Do you have any questions?

Evidently, the students didn't have questions. Most of them didn't even care about the subject at all, and certainly not this early in the morning. A few young Time Lords were dozing off at the top row of seats, not having slept for a week or so. Some were chatting telepathically, mouths covered to conceal giggles. Two or three were scribbling in High Gallifreyan, trying to finish homework that was already late. Barely anyone even knew what the Professor was talking about.

In the center of the hall, right next to an ancient column, sat two students who irritated the Professor the most – Theta Sigma and Koschei, as they called themselves. The first one was pale and skinny, with forever messy fair hair and a smile that stole many hearts. The second had the bluest blue eyes you have ever seen, and a bit patchy goatee beard. Instead of making notes, Theta was currently painting Koschei's nails with a black nail polish. He was nearly finished with his right hand, and was about to start on the left.

One of the girls on the left side of the hall was watching them with a smile on her face.

-Ushas? - She called, turning to her right.

-What? - Ushas was one of the few students who actually wanted to study, so she didn't appreciate the interruptions.

-Is Theta and Kosch... you know... a thing?

Ushas smirked. - He wishes. - She replied, pointing at Theta.

-Does that mean I have a chance with him?

-Probably. I mean, he has already hooked up with half the students his age, so...

The other girl looked surprised.

-Compensating. - Ushas shrugged.

At that point most of the people in the hall were staring at Koschei and Theta, amazed by their level of insolence. Rebellion was pretty much removed out of Time Lord genetic code a long time ago. Therefore breaking the rules like that was really rare, and, as a consequence, really cool. Unfortunately, students weren't the only ones who noticed the little rebellion.

-Am I interrupting you, by any chance? - He said, looking at the two friends with disapproval.

-No-no, it's fine. - Theta replied, now applying nail polish to Koschei's left pinky finger. - Carry on.

The hall roared with laughter.

-Perhaps you know how to prove this theorem then? - Professor asked, raising his eyebrows.

-I do, actually. - Koschei said, his voice calm and dry.

The Professor let out a single high-pitched laugh, bewildered by such a preposterous and arrogant claim. - Ridiculous! I've been a math teacher my entire life, and I can assure you, young man, that you don't. Dozens of Time Lords and Time Ladies have tried for thousands of years, scholars much wiser than you or me, and all have failed.

-But I can prove it. - Koschei insisted, carefully removing his hand from Theta's grasp. - Did that when I was seventy four.

-Well, why don't you show us then? - The Professor suggested, sitting down at his desk.

-No problem. - Koschei got up and walked down the steps, his oversized robes dragging on the floor behind him.

He approached the lightboard and glanced at his hands. Realizing that he can't use his right hand, he placed it behind his back and started writing with elegant movements of his left index finger. While he was writing, he mumbled something under his breath. Only five minutes later he placed a final symbol on the lightboard and stepped back, admiring his work.

-That's roughly it. - He said, returning to his desk, and taking the nail polish from the table to finish the work himself. - Go figure.

The Professor was reading the calculations frantically, eyes wide in bewilderment. On the left of the hall Ushas scratched her chin, rather impressed. She turned to the girl who was sitting next to her.

-Looks like he did prove it. - She said. - Damn.

-Impossible! - The Professor declared. - This is too simple, too obvious. Someone would have thought of it ages ago!

-But it does prove it. - Koschei told him. - Perhaps the wise scholars weren't that wise after all.

The Professor was still in denial. -Class dismissed! - He announced, and everyone jumped up from their seats.

-Thanks, mate! - Mortimus and Drax both saluted Koschei as they were leaving the room.

Magnus even snapped a photo of the poor Professor, his world shattered to pieces by one small equation.

-Do you want to get some food? - Theta Sigma asked, once they entered the lengthy corridor outside the hall.

-Might as well. - Koschei replied, and followed his best friend.

***

Koschei was sitting in a small, round room which must have belonged to a professor of the Academy. It was full of ancient books, obscure pieces of tech and relics of the past. He sat in a comfy armchair, feet up on the table, reading one of the old texts someone left unsupervised. It wasn't very entertaining.

At last the front door has opened, and a Time Lady stepped inside. She didn't look a day older Koschei, despite having lived a very long life and now being at her last regeneration.

-This is absurd. - Koschei proclaimed, not even looking up from the text. - You can't punish me for proving a theorem!

-Who said anything about punishment? - The Time Lady smiled, coming closer to the table.

He finally put the text down to see her for the first time, and realizing who she was immediately removed his feet from the table.

-Lady Cardinal. - He said, more than a little bit surprised.

-Indeed. - She nodded. - However I am not here as the Cardinal of the Prydonian Chapter, but rather as a scholar of math – one of those you called not so wise after all.

Koschei wasn't intimidated by her in the slightest. - It's a simple solution.

-It is. - She agreed. - And an elegant one too. It takes skill, and knowledge, and also imagination to come up with something like that. All the things I look for in my students. You could be one of them soon: work with advanced material, things you can't find in your textbooks. What do you think, Lord of Oakdown?

-Oh please, Lord of Oakdown is my father. And my grandfather. And all of my cousins. Call me Koschei.

-Koschei. - Lady Cardinal repeated. - Academy nicknames weren't so exotic in my time as a student. What does it mean?

-It's from an Earth fairytale. - He explained. - It is a name of a magical being. Powerful, intelligent and immortal. All the things I strive to be.

-Oh yes, I know your friend, Lord of Lungbarrow, is obsessed with Earth cultures.

-Obsessed is a strong word. - Koschei said. - Theta is curious, that's all. Curious beyond my understanding. That alien cultures course we took was the definition of boring, and he still enjoyed.

-Couldn't have been that boring, if you learned something from it. - She put her hand in her pocket and took out a tiny bottle of nail polish she picked up in the lecture hall. - Yours, I presume?

Koschei took the bottle from her hand and hid it in his bag, leaving her remark unanswered.

-I won't keep you here any longer. - Lady Cardinal said. - You are free to go now. Think about my offer.

-Sure. - He told her, getting up. - And if I decide to join you, maybe you would consider giving some extra credit to 'Lord of Lungbarrow'? - He asked.

Lady Cardinal chuckled. - What did he do to deserve it?

-He inspires me. - Koschei smiled, closing the door behind him.

This time, he was only partially joking.

***

Missy heard the Doctor walking even before he started messing with the Vault's opening mechanism. He had a heavy step that echoed across the universities corridors and inevitably gave away his location. As he was unlocking the door, she made an attempt to un-mess her hair, but it didn't work. So instead she leaned back in her chair and pretended to not be bothered by it.

-Good evening. - The Doctor greeted her. - Or is it good night already? I can't tell.

-You're just in time for Game of Thrones. - Missy told him.

-What's that?

-A TV-show I watch. - She said. - There's a lot of sex and drama and decapitations.

-Sounds like your thing.

-Well, we can't watch Disney all the time, can we?

They both paused for a moment, and then a smile appeared on the Doctor's face, for seemingly no reason.

-I nearly forgot. - He said, and took something out of his pocket.

He placed the object on the table in front of Missy.

-It's black nail polish. - She looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

-Do you remember it?

Missy thought for a few moments.

-Is it..?

-Yes.

-No.

-Yes it is! - The Doctor was beaming.

-How could you possibly preserve it? - Missy scoffed. - It's been hundreds of years ago!

-I am sentimental. - The Doctor shrugged. - Took it with me when I was leaving Gallifrey with Susan. Wanted to have something that reminded me of you.

She wasn't sure how to react to that.

-Did you enjoy Lady Cardinal's advanced math class? - He asked.

-Not more than the look on our math professor's face when I proved that theorem.

They both laughed, remembering that little moment of triumph. Then, without a word, the Doctor opened the nail polish bottle and gently took Missy's hand.

-You will never forgive me. - The words escaped her mouth before she had a chance to think about it. - I know you want me to be good and maybe, somehow, you will actually believe that yourself, but you will never forgive me.

-Doesn't matter. - The Doctor replied. - I haven't forgiven myself either, not even for the things I technically didn't do. - He sighed, and briefly looked her in the eyes. - One day, a long time ago, I had to come to terms with the fact that we are not, in fact, that different.

She smiled with a corner of her mouth and decided not to reply.

That night the darkness resided only in the latest episode of Game of Thrones and in the intense color of her favorite nail polish.

[elsinore-and-inverness]

Prydonian

(Koschei’s POV)

I ran further and further into the forest and gradually wound my way up the mountain until I broke the treeline. There were patches of snow up there, shining white under the burning orange sky. And a boy, gazing out across the valley. He was tall and skinny and wore no coat or cloak. His hair was tossed about in the wind.

Now, we Time Lords have a fairly high tolerance for cold, but this boy looked like he had been up here for hours. He turned around and I met his diamond-blue eyes. There was snow dusting his hair, and he wasn’t shivering but his lips were blue.

‘How long have you been up here?’ I asked.

His blue eyes sparkled and he glanced briefly at the burnished sky. ‘Judging from the position of the first and second sun... It’s time for me to get a watch.’

‘It’s awfully cold up here,’ I observed. ‘But the snow is lovely.’

‘You only really get proper snow like this up in the mountains. I live here.’ He paused. ‘On this mountain, I mean, a bit further down in a lovely little cottage.’

He looked down at the valley below. The forests and fields. The impossibly shaped building that housed the Prydonian Chapter of the Academy, rebuilt during the gravity manipulation craze a few years before we were born. The scattered houses of cousins. There seemed to be a dry expanse of ground surrounding one of the more distant houses, as though all the moisture had been sucked out of the soil.

‘That’s Lungbarrow.’ He explained. ‘They use the field for sports.’

I made a face and he laughed.

He was obviously freezing, so I took off my cloak and offered it to him. He accepted it politely, draping the maroon fabric over his shoulders.

‘What do they call you?’ I asked.

His large blue eyes darkened and he glanced at the sky as though he might be struck down by the gods. ‘Never mind what they call me.’

---

Many months later I sat in the midst of a crowd, on that parched field outside Lungbarrow House, lazily observing three groups of Gallifreyan children. I supposed, if you squinted, they looked alike enough to be cousins. Or most of them did. There were a few obvious misfits.

Like that girl with the fiercely analytical gaze, who seemed to be coming up with ways to turn all of this into an experiment. Or the mischievous boy who seemed to find everything amusing. Or that one who appeared to be constructing a miniature particle accelerator out of- Where those paperclips? Or that one, paying more attention than the others, or the one who seemed to be fizzling with ambition. And that blue haired girl. She didn’t even go here. From her robes I could tell she was from the house of Brightshore. What was she doing here? And who was that boy talking to her? And was that one taking notes? And then there was... Him.

Sitting in the back, as unassuming as you please, the unkempt curls and bright blue eyes were unmistakable.

‘Thete!’ I shouted, running across the field, earning a glare from the supervising Time Lords.

Already I thought he was the most beautiful person in the world. Just seeing his eyes light up was enough to make you feel important. I ran to my friend, vaguely aware that everyone was staring at me. I pushed past most of the House of Lungbarrow until I was face to face with Theta Sigma. I embraced the taller boy briefly, then held him at arms length.

‘What happened, Thete? Why are you here?’

He met my eyes. ‘They sent me away.’

‘Who did?’ I asked concernedly, ‘Ulysses? Irving?’

He laughed sadly and the sound of it broke my hearts. ‘It’s the same as what they did with you, Koschei.’ The gentle sweetness with which he pronounced my name made me want him to say it again.

‘No it’s not,’ I said, ‘I’ve always lived in Oakdown.’

‘Oh yes,’ he said sarcastically. ‘At Oakdown it’s all Koschei, Koschei, Koschei.’

I grinned, but stopped, seeing his expression. ‘What happened, Thete? What did they do to you? You’ve been crying, I can tell.’

Theta Sigma bit his lip. He whispered, glancing at the crowd. ‘They- they called me a freak. They said I’d never be good at anything. I’d never know anything. I’d never be a Time Lord... And they believed them- They weren’t going to-’

‘Thete! Theta. Theta Sigma-’ I interrupted him.

‘Stop!’ he moaned. He didn’t want me to say his name.

‘Just listen to me.’ I said, holding his gaze. I saw his eyes unfocus and wondered how lovely a sky would look if it were the colour of those eyes. ‘They’re all wrong. Just jealous, probably. Because you’re brilliant.’

He blinked and rubbed at his eyes. ‘Koschei! I think you just... hypnotized me?’

I shook my head, noticing that around us everyone had moved away to follow the orders of the Time Lords. ‘But that’s impossible.’

I looked around, wondering if there was something I had missed. He had that clever look in his eyes again.

‘No it’s not. You wanted me to listen. And I listened. You need to be careful. If they find out-’

‘They won’t find out.’ I said confidently. ‘Besides, I’ll always have you to keep me out of trouble.’

‘Now that,’ he smirked, ‘I wouldn’t count on.’ He glanced at the setting suns absentmindedly. ‘You had better go. I believe Oakdown has a game to lose.’

‘You little saboteur!’ I cried.

He took my hands in his and whispered ‘I would never betray you, Koschei of Oakdown.’

---

(Theta Sigma’s POV)

I probably should have qualified that statement. I’ve always had an unfortunate tendency to choose drama over truth, but in that moment I really meant it. I would not betray the boy I knew then. I would not betray my Koschei Oakdown.

When I walked into Lungbarrow that night I was met with glares.

‘Where were you, Wormhole?’

I shook my head and walked past them.

‘We lost!’ one of them shouted. ‘Oakdown won again.’

I stared at the floor distractedly, their voices blending together.

‘You wouldn’t have been able to help us anyway,’ someone decided.

‘You would have brought us down even if you weren’t a traitor, associating with the enemy.’

I knew better than to say anything, least of all defend Koschei, that would bring both of us more grief.

‘Nothing? Can’t you say anything? You’re supposed to be a Prydonian for Rassilon’s sake!’

I slipped out the backdoor and fled across the yard, mud clinging to my boots. I pulled open the door of the barn. No one would follow me. That was what I really appreciated. Tormenting me wasn’t their intention. They were just upset about losing again and wanted to take it out on someone. None of that really mattered, though. I burrowed into the warm straw. I would get off this planet one day. I knew I would.

[azems-familiar]

She Who Dreams Ch. 2

This (insanely long) chapter is written mostly by @the-voice-of-light-city. Over 2x as long as a usual chapter will be, welcome to the flashbacks; we couldn’t find a place to split it. Enjoy!

DREAMER

The first thing she notices about Theta Sigma is that he's not staring at her.

She's used to being stared at; she's Rassilon's daughter, after all, born of the reLoomed founder of Gallifreyan society; the Presidency isn't technically a hereditary position, even if it functions like one, but if it was she'd be heir. She's Arkytior - Rose - a Prydonian Time Lady of the highest order, and she's been stared at since she was a chronarch in the Capitol. The Academy isn't usually any different.

Except that he isn't.

He's a native, a Cadonin kid, as rural as it gets, with a stupid grin and a mop of hair so blonde it's almost white. What is he, Lungbarrow? One of those ancient stagnant Oldblood ones that still actually have a House to go with the name, anyway - which is notable, if only because he doesn't seem stagnant at all, bouncy and cheerful and somewhat ridiculous. It's the only reason she knows his (nick)name; because he's always getting in trouble - wasn't he involved in that scheme to probability-shift all of Borusa's underclothes two units to the right, too?

The dark-haired Newblood sitting next to him, on the other hand, is staring, but it's a cool appraising kind of stare. As if he's sizing her up. She gives him her best Keeper of the Legacy of Rassilon glare, but all he does is raise one annoyingly-perfect eyebrow and say something to the oblivious Theta. Who looks up from his metaphysics homework (something to do with the fifth wall, by the look of it,) still talking at a hundred miles per hour about something she can't hear - and focuses on her.

She gives him the glare, too. And he waves. The Newblood - she thinks he's Cadonin too, probably an Oakdown - drags one long pale hand down his face long-sufferingly as the Cadonin kid jumps upright far too happily, and starts - It takes her really far too long to realize he's coming toward her. Except he is, quite distinctly, and all she can really do is stare open-mouthed as he sits down across from her, dragging the Newblood along by one scandalously ungloved hand - she nearly double takes, but the Heir of Rassilon wouldn't do anything so undignified. "Hi," he says, cheerfully. She doesn't think anybody's ever greeted her that informally since - possibly ever. "I'm Theta," he announces; "Theta Sigma, this is Koschei, nice to meet you." She can only stare. "What's your name?" he prompts helpfully. The Newblood - Koschei - looks even more exasperated. "Arkytior," she says, after a moment. "I'm... Arkytior." "Rose," he repeats, and grins. "Nice name." She blinks, uncertain. "Thank you?"                                                              [=|=] "You're bringing Rassilon's daughter into Low Town?" They've all piled into Ushas's room - Ushas of House Lightslorn, one of the most brilliant biochemists the Academy has seen in a while, and therefore with her own room and attached lab. Apparently she's another Cadonin, which is how Theta and Koschei know her in the first place, and part of the weird little clique they all call the Deca. It also seems that her role in every adventure is to sigh heavily, announce how mind-blowing idiotic it is, and then drag them all out of trouble again by their collars. "It'll be fun," Theta declares. "She doesn't even have to disconnect from the Matrix to keep it from tracking her, she's got practically Presidential privileges, she can just tell it to let her in," Koschei explains - not quite as bouncy as Theta, but grinning, too, now. "Last time you went to Low Town you picked a fight with six shobo'gans at once and then I had to rescue you in a stolen skimmer," Ushas announces, utterly deadpan. "Which is why we're asking you to come," Koschei puts in. "Please," Theta wheedles. "She says she's never even seen anything but the Citadel and the Academy - " " - and it's not like we're taking her Outside, it's still technically the Capitol - " " - and we've been telling her about Low Town for years it's only fair - " " - and that trick with the flowers in Prof. Calia's room last span was even her idea - " " - and besides she's not actually nearly as snobby as she acts - " "What?" Arkytior interjects, mostly as a reflex. Koschei and Theta utterly ignore her. Ushas projects a distant [ignore them, they don't mean any disrespect] in her direction, still staring judgmentally at the two boys. Arkytior manages not to jump; on top of everything else, Ushas is the strongest non-timeship-bonded telepath Arkytior's ever met, and she's still not used to the clarity of projection the other Time Lady can manage. [i'm not offended] she sends back along the same channel, and then, surprising even herself [do i really act like that?] Ushas looks up; the boys ignore it, having devolved into arguing about skimmer piloting. One eyebrow goes up, but it's almost a mark of respect. [sometimes. but most capitol-dwellers wouldn't even have asked that question.] [i wanted to know,] Arkytior tries, with a sort of mental shrug. And the signal Ushas sends back isn't exactly a smile, but it's somewhere in that direction. "Right," she announces, "but I do the piloting, please and thank you." Theta takes this in stride; grins at Arkytior, a friendly kind of grin, and then he grabs her gloved hand and pulls her down the corridor, Koschei right behind them. She stumbles along after him, and even though neither of them are powerful enough telepaths to initiate contact through standard Academy gloves, all she can focus on is his hand in hers.                                                             [=|=] A decade or so after that, he takes her home. Not House Lungbarrow, but the Cadonin hills above it, and Mount Lung itself above it. They walk up slowly, the transduction barrier painting the sky a featureless black, glowing very slightly orange around the edges. He tells her a long story about a hermit who lives on top, who showed him a flower and told him the secret of how it's all connected; she's not sure if she believes him, exactly, but it's a nice story either way. He doesn't talk about Lungbarrow, or when he was a chronarch; he never does. She suspects that his House didn't exactly treat him well. She's heard stories, too, off little things Koschei and Ushas have said - it seems like Theta's not exactly normal in more ways than one, that maybe something went wrong with his Looming. That maybe he was born... different, and that would explain the way he talks sometimes, like he was alive in Founder's Times, the way he makes references to things he really shouldn't know from a standard Matrix connection, the way he doesn't seem quite as present in the local timestream as others. He won't tell her where they're going; she goes along with it anyway, if only because he took off his collar and most of the heavier bits of his robes halfway up the slope, and when he pulls her up the path his fingers are bare against hers. They're both shielded, of course, but a buzz of emotion gets through anyway; little pings of joy against her skull. They stop, eventually, on a bare section of slope; she can see the Academy glowing artron-gold on the horizon, Cadon stretching out in front of them. The Capitol's barely a fourth of a planet away - she could be there in less than no time, if she had a timeship - but she's never felt further from her father, never felt freer. He talks to her about travelling the universe, and here she could believe it. “Maybe,” she starts; he rolls over to look at her, suddenly attentive. She tries to find words. “Maybe, you could - I mean, when we’re out of the Academy - run away and see the world.“ “Be a renegade, you mean,” he says, uncertainly. “...Yes.” He stares for a moment, and then he laughs; high and bright and joyful. She’s never met anyone quite as alive as Theta Sigma of Lungbarrow. “Oh, that’d show them,” he declares, with satisfaction. “Borusa and Quences and everyone else. Yeah.” And he looks at her, and he’s still holding her hand. “Maybe we could. Go together.” She smiles, in the a dark; can’t seem to stop smiling. And then he goes silent, suddenly, and points at a glint of light in the barrier-dark sky  - “There there there look - “ She watches it open-mouthed; the transduction barrier sliding open, slowly fading out - and behind it the sky isn’t dark at all, it is full of diamonds. “It opens to let merchant timeships through,” he says, with some satisfaction. “They don’t put the schedules on the wider Matrix, but they never change them, and you get the pattern if you watch for long enough.” “The stars,” she whispers. “Yeah.” He quiets. “I said I’d show you them, didn’t I?” “I could have just found the records,” she points out after a moment, still in awe, “I have clearance for everything - “ “But then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” he protests, and then she can’t take it anymore; she turns, tearing her eyes off the sky to look at him. And slowly, very slowly, she edges her shields down. He gasps when he realizes, and then he makes a funny strangled noise, and says “You’re not watching the stars - “ “I have better things to look at, you idiot,” she tells him, and kisses him.                                                           [=|=] The next bit you can probably guess. He's Oldblood, from some dead-end House in the middle of nowhere; she's Rassilon's daughter, neither Newblood nor Oldblood but almost Pythian, with an inheritance the size of the known universe and a prophecy to her name. They're found out. They're separated. She doesn't like to think about that day. After that, she's tutored at the Capitol; Theta stays at the Academy, with Koschei and Ushas and the rest of the Deca. She doesn't see him again for a long time. And even then, it's nothing more than short glimpses - in the halls of the Panopticon - and then he turns away again, turns away from her, and she wonders what they told him to break him like that. She wonders what her father did. But she's a real Time Lady now, Keeper of the Legacy of Rassilon and everything that comes with it, and she can't spend her days pining over a high school crush. There are rumours, about a freak and throwback, a Cadonin kid who passed the Academy with 51% and the disconcerting impression that he'd cut it that close just to see if he could, wandering around. She doesn't listen. (She pretends she doesn't listen.) (She pretends she doesn't watch for him, doesn't analyze those little glimpses she does get - ) (Is he all right? Is he still with the Deca? Is he happy?) And then one day, a couple centuries - could be seven, could be four, could be fifteen; it doesn't really matter - on, it happens. She tries to access his files through the Matrix, for the thousandth time - and gets an error message. Except it's not the usual no-clearance error. It says the Time Lord formerly known as, among other aliases, Theta Sigma, has been erased from the Matrix. She knows what that means, and when she digs through other records she figures it out, piece by piece. Theta's finally done what he always wanted to do - back at the Academy, the way he used to talk about the stars, all the [longing] radiating from him. Wanting something he'd never even known. He ran. He stole a museum-piece Type 40 timeship and went to see the universe. Without her. (Somebody says he took his little chronarch Loomling with him, the one called Arkytior too - and she believes it, because he always said he didn't want to travel alone.) And even though she has a state-of-the-art type 74 bonded to her, hers alone for always, she doesn’t quite dare follow him. The funny thing is that she doesn't care. What's not caring? It's as easy as snapping your fingers, as turning your head, as bowing your neck. It's as easy as letting go. She is a Time Lady, and she doesn't care about Outsiders and renegades. She tells herself that, and sometimes she even believes it.                                                            [=|=] "What is it," Rassilon asks finally, staring at the temporal charts, at the Matrix simulation codes. His lackeys crowd around and make vague noises; Arkytior stands in the background, dark hair falling carefully in front of her face, in perfect Prydonian red-orange. There's a crash as the Lord High President and Founder of Gallifrey stands up, throwing his chair back almost violently. (It arcs straight toward one of the Cardinals; they don't dodge, but the chair does, quickly vaporizing itself at an automatic telepathic signal from the Matrix.) "What is it?" he roars, pointing at the field of distortion. "We don't know, sir." It's Lady Romana speaking - Romanadvoratrelundar, who would have been President if it weren't for Rassilon, who was a renegade for a while, with a sardonic smile and a true Prydonian head for politics. Who travelled with Theta's, except he's calling himself the Doctor now, a renegade's not-name title; replacement for a term long lost. (She can't remember his real name anymore either. Erasure from the Matrix means erasure from the mind of every non-renegade connected Time Lord, and despite what she dreams of at night that's still her.) (In her head, she calls herself the Dreamer. That's who she would have been, if she followed Theta into the wide wide universe and lost her name too; that's who she should have been. There's a little irony there too, of course. He's the Doctor; he heals, he fixes, he makes things better. And she only dreams of it...) “How can we not know?” Rassilon cries, sullen. “This is Gallifrey, is it not? Home of the same people who created Time itself, the first and only race to speak to the Menti Celesti on Their own territory, who rule reality? The same people I created, when I tore the Pythia’s hearts out and spilled Her blood on the sand? How can it be that my Matrix can’t foresee this?” Romana shrugs. It’s a fluid slippery motion, and entirely an alien one; Arkytior would bet one of her lives that the other Time Lady learned it from the Doctor, or one of the mortals the Doctor runs with nowadays.  “The War King claimed it was - “ “I refuse to listen to that upstart,” Rassilon snaps. “He thinks he can take the Presidency from me? A renegade? What was it he called himself?" "The Master," Romana says drily. "But his testimony's the only information we have on the War at large - " "It's not a War," Rassilon growls. "There's no evidence for a War. Who would dare oppose Gallifrey?" Romana only shrugs again. But Arkytior's watching for it, and she can feel the signal ripple outwards into the Matrix - because Rassilon may be the founder of Gallifreyan society, but he's a petulant child and a figurehead. It's the Lady Romana who's in charge, and everybody knows it. She wonders if it really is a War. She can feel it too, now; the coming Darkness boiling in the worldline, in the timelines - in everyone's timelines. Koschei must be closer tied into it than most, if he can already say what it's going to be. Or maybe he has another source of information. She wonders if the Doctor can feel it. She turns away, and she ignores the complex dance of pandimensional politics in the Panopticon hallways, and she still doesn't care. Nothing hurts. Nothing feels like anything at all.                                                                 [=|=] She’s there the day the War King comes back. Still Koschei’s dark eyes, still the Master’s crazed intelligence, but coherent now; elegant and manipulative and always one step ahead. She’s there the day they throw Rassilon aside and crown Koschei king of reality in his place. She’s there the day Romana is inducted as general and imperiatrix, leading Gallifrey’s newly created forces out into the universe - the War Queen. She’s there the day the War breaks on Dronid, and wipes the planet out of history entirely; she’s there to watch the symbolism-ships of the various forces clash in pseudometaphorical dimensions roughly three planes above what is commonly thought of as reality. She’s there for the First Wave, and the Second, and the Third, until they all blend together; soldiers and timeships and hybrid monsters pouring out of the War Looms and into the Darkness. She doesn’t fight, not really and not for long; she stays in the shadows of the Panopticon and watches it all begin to fall apart. Everybody ignores her, mostly. She’s the daughter of a figurehead and keeper of the legacy of a history that no longer matters. She can’t fight, not really; she does her duty like any Time Lord, but she doesn’t go into the front lines the way some do. She’s bonded to a TARDIS, but that’s becoming increasingly less notable, and it’s only an type 74; nothing special. She watches them from a distance. She waits. She dreams. She’s there when Compassion the timeship comes to meet the War King, the mark of the Doctor’s timeline and the Doctor’s TARDIS clear on her steel skin. She’s there when the regen-inf are pioneered and brought into combat - burning through their regenerations one after the other, twisting and changing until they’ve been reformatted into something that can survive in the broken-glass flux-timespace of flat War realities - something that isn’t even recognizable as Gallifreyan anymore. She’s there when the media-lived Remote first start to show up in the Matrix databases (the server that holds history in place) and when they start to disappear. For the experiments in anti-time and subsequent birth of the Could’ve-Been-King - the Neverweres dragged out of their never-was-reality to fight and shriek and die. For the creation of the Nightmare Child, and everything that followed. Through it all, through every battle, every twisted horror and new experiment, she drifts aimlessly through the shadows of the Capitol, alone, so alone. She’s Prydonian, she knows politics, she knows people, and so she stays quiet and lets them all forget her. And dreams (of the past of the future of what could’ve been and never was--but most of all, she dreams of freedom). She’s there, more than fifty years into the War - not that it’s that simple anymore, with how many alternate timelines have been produced and discarded, with how many different realities all of them exist in at once, now - when Theta comes back. Except it’s not Theta. And it’s not the Doctor anymore, either. It’s the Warrior who walks into the Panopticon with a tangle of broken timelines so dark she can barely see him at the center of it, less a person than a sentient time-space event of unimaginable complexity. That otherness that was there even in the Academy, when they were both young - those little strange inconsistencies, never quite normal, always just under the surface - in the open, now. A thing with ancient eyes and an alien smile, a force of nature, the Oncoming Storm. And if Theta’s still there under it all, she can’t see him. She's there. She's there. She’s only there. She watches him walk past, and if he only looked at her - if he only thought of her - she would go to him, she would do more than dream. But he doesn't, and she doesn't, and the War goes on.                                                               [=|=]

She’s never been in a War timeship before. Oh, she’s travelled a little, of course; piloting was a class like any other at the Academy, and occasionally they would venture into Outer Time, to learn to bridge the gap between realities. She remembers the Medusa Cascade, especially; that was in the short golden time before she and Theta were discovered, and they managed to get themselves partnered to the same ship - with Ushas and Koschei and Millennia and Rallon, for the full six pilots - and they spent the whole time holding hands and watching the stars. But that was the old generation, the weaponless generation, the nonlinear-sentient, the pureblood timeships - type 60, 65, 70-form at the very most. Her type 74, for all Her beauty, hasn’t travelled further than a couple light-centuries in the entire time they’ve been bonded, and can barely even keep from capsizing in the stormy seas of the War-torn reality. And even then She preferred to keep to the default silver cylinder used by all pre-Compassion TT capsules. Whereas this one is a War-born timeship looks like a Time Lady in full ceremonial armor-regalia, a perfect imitation of life, and the Remote-hybridised circuits in her core dragged just far enough into linear time that she can act like one, too. One of the million children of Compassion. A perfect imitation, until she smiles and her face cracks open top to bottom, a divide wide enough to walk through, and behind that door - well. Bigger on the inside, after all. Arkytior stays in the back of the console room and watches the six pilots at their stations. From inside, it looks like any other machine, and she’s not sure why that bothers her so much. Maybe it’s the hybridization of it, the lesser-species-biodata in the mix. It’s only natural to be uncomfortable around such a blatantly half-breed thing. It occurs to her that the timeship can probably hear her; she hides behind layers of shields and tries not to think at all. After all, the only other option is thinking about what she’s being sent to face, and that’s not an option at all. They arrive faster than she was expecting; she’s ushered out into the wider (well, still only infinite, but it’s a larger infinity) environs of a Time Station anchored to a well-known fixed point, close to the planet where he’s supposedly gone to ground. Nobody’s explained to her why he’s gone, yet. The Matrix summons hit in the middle of the night, with an almost-painful spark, marked with the highest clearance possible - the Presidential seal, twice over - and the sheer weight of it sent her into respiratory bypass for a few moments. The power of it; an order marked with the double-sigil of War King and War Queen, and not a thing that can be ignored. She made it to the throne room (a new creation, the War King’s idea, while the Queen supposedly despises it, took the drab-in-comparison President’s offices instead) quickly, because she had to. It dragged her down Panopticon hallways gloveless and shoeless and hair in disarray, but she hasn’t cared about the opinions of the Capitol Time Lords since they took Theta from her, and besides they can feel the Matrix-order hanging over her as well as anyone else. They know. Koschei - the King, she must stop thinking of him as Koschei - smiled at her, and told her a mistake had been made, that the Doctor needed her. (He said Doctor. She wonders how naive he thinks she is.) The Imperatrix Romana looked coldly furious, but didn’t speak; there was something like guilt in her eyes. (Arkytior caught talk of roses and children and power and betrayal, before she entered the room; she suspects, but she isn’t sure.) So she takes a different timeship down to the surface of the planet, and she walks out with her head half high, and  she watches it fade away and pretends she isn’t scared. The timeship’s eyes blank out just before it disappears, as the block-transfer shell dismantles itself in preparation for the raw energy of the Vortex. And then she’s alone of the rocky empty surface of a place called Quiescia. (Not alone. Not really.) (Because the Warrior is somewhere, somewhere close, hiding, and she needs to bring him back.)   We need him, said the War King, and smiled Koschei’s sardonic self-deprecating smile, but there is madness behind it now. You know how important he is to the War, of course. We need him, and we have reason to believe that you might be able to coax him out of hiding. And if not…. (he shrugs) Well, we’ll have to think of something, won’t we? She swallows, and starts walking. Night falls, after a while. I wanted to show you the stars. If he goes rogue - It was you who brought the halfling into it in the first place - (and the War Queen holds steady voice like ice) - it was necessary, the way the War is going - if she inherited even a fraction of what he can do - she’s mine too, (koschei-not-koschei snarls it, the words like acid) don’t forget it, and you knew it, and you never even told me And then she turns a corner, tired, and almost walks straight into a large blue box. The Dreamer stumbles back, hands over her mouth, taking it in - obviously a timeship, obviously ancient, a type 40 by the look of it, and that exterior can only mean one thing. It’s his timeship. The famous TARDIS. The broken-down museum piece he travelled in, still defenseless, still with only the most rudimentary of shields, now turned into the most terrifying of War-time weapons. He’s here. (police box pull to open she mustn’t think she mustn’t panic) She takes a breath. She holds her head high. She knocks on the door. Nothing - Nothing happens. Arkytior cocks her head; unsure, wary - no, scratch that, not wary, she is terrified. And not even because this is technically War-territory, because she’s utterly defenseless, but because she hasn’t said a word to Theta since Rassilon’s personal guards tore them apart and now she’s expected to bring him back and she’s not even sure if she can she’s not even sure if he’ll know her and she’s panicking and she mustn’t panic she needs to “Breathe.” It’s only millennia of Panopticon-rigid decorum embedded in her spine that stops her from screaming. The presence behind her withdraws, sudden, careful. There is dark around its edges, the feel of broken glass, the lightning-edged smell of Storm. She turns. The Warrior stands silhouetted against the sunset, and she doesn’t understand how she can have not seen him, the bloody edges of his timelines are so clear against the silence of the sky. (Why is it so quiet here, if this is War-time? Why can’t she smell the Enemy? Why can she barely feel Outer Time at all?) All they can do, for a moment, is stare. “Hello, Arkytior,” he says, after a while. His voice is rough, as if he hasn’t spoken in a long time, but it’s soft too; quiet in the dusty sunset air. “Theta,” she whispers. He hesitates, for a moment; she can’t see his face, can’t feel him behind the Storm. And slowly, he shakes his head. “No.” “Theta - “ she tries again, heart in her throat and so close and so far away.    He cuts her off this time. “No.” His voice is gentle, but there’s the hiss-crackle distortion of anti-time running under it. “I’m sorry, Arkytior. Theta isn’t here anymore.”    There’s silence for a while. “Oh,” she says, her voice tiny. “...Oh.” And then there’s nothing else to say, nothing else she can ever say, so she gives up. Slumps back against the unnaturally-cold surface of the timeship behind her, sliding to the ground, pulls her knees and still-bare feet up to her chest and sobs like a broken thing. Eventually, she can feel him move; she’s not sure she cares. (She’s not sure she can, after all these years of ice.) He sits down next to her, not quite close enough to touch, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. Eventually, she lifts her head and watches too. It’s him who speaks first, when it starts getting dark, toneless. “...They sent you to bring me back. Didn’t they.” “Yes.” There’s no real point in hiding it. “Why did you run?” “Arkytior - “ He cuts himself off, sudden. “The other Arkytior. Susan. Theta’s - my granddaughter.” (Roses, and betrayal.) “I left her on Earth in their twenty-second century. I thought she would be safe, that the War couldn’t touch her. If she never - if she never became a part of it, she could have stayed safe.” “And she didn’t?” “Romana brought her back.” There is no trace of emotion in his voice. “Because of what I can do. On the possibility that she could help turn the tide.” She considers this, for a moment. “What are you going to do about it?” “Nothing.” He blinks, mechanical. “The War doesn’t give back what it’s taken. There’s no going back now. I could kill her, but somebody would always bring her back.” “Too valuable to leave in peace,” she says. “Like you. Because of you.” “Yes.” He turns away, suddenly, looking off across the rocky plain, and when he speaks there’s a trace of anger in it. “You shouldn’t be here. This is Outer Time. It’s too dangerous, there’s too much of the War here, you haven’t been trained.” She shrugs. “It was a Presidential order.” “Because of me,” he growls. “Yes. I know. I wasn’t going to run, anyway, I’ve given up on running. All I wanted was silence. Can’t I get some quiet, once in awhile? She knows what he means, or thinks she does. He may not be connected to the Matrix, but he’s still - mostly - a Time Lord, and he’s still part of that collective subconscious hum. Once upon a time, she couldn’t imagine how timeblind species survived without it - without the song at the back of your that, the constant you are not alone. But this is War-time. And when every other member of your species is fighting and dying and being erased, constantly, inside your head - you can’t help but wish for silence, sometimes. And then he’s got - She swallows, something burning in her throat. “When you say Theta isn’t here-” “I’m not.” The Warrior twist around to stare at her, and she still can’t seem to focus on his face; all that’s there is a mess of paradox and static. “Or maybe he is. Maybe I’m lying. There’s so many of me nowadays, can you blame me for losing track?” (The anti-time just under his voice crackles higher.) “I don’t know,” he says. He sounds almost surprised. “Now there’s a new feeling.” She takes a careful delicate breath. “Warrior - Theta - Doctor - if you - “ But he’s already pushing himself upright, wobbling slightly, hands out, staring at the sunset preoccupied. “Silence. What would it take, for silence? What would it take, to end the War?” She inhales sharply. “Can you do that?” “Yes. No. Probably. Who knows?” He turns, not quite here, hands out. “Not without taking the universe with it. Would that be worth it?” The questions sounds almost plaintive, lost, and worse than that it sounds serious. She presses back against the block-transfer wood of the timeship, tries to think. He can’t mean it. He can’t end the War. If he could do a thing like that, the Enemy would have been gone long ago. And all of it comes out as “I - I don’t know.” He stays there for a moment, staring at her - and then he slumps. Drags long pale hands down the face she still can’t make herself look at. “No. No it’s not worth it, because even if I could survive it you wouldn’t.” There’s an edge of desperation to his voice now. “You wouldn’t and Susan wouldn’t and Romana wouldn’t and Koschei wouldn’t and - and I can’t stop loving you, Arkytior, I’ve tried, I’ve tried for so long and I still care.” His voice breaks; the anti-time underneath surges, warping every word. “It still hurts, Arkytior. Every time. Every day, and if I try hard enough I can ignore it but I can never forget it. I still love you.” “I’m sorry,” she whispers. And then he’s shifted again - again, like he’s flipping a switch, and this time his endless dark eyes are almost honest. “You helped me. In the Academy. I think you showed me who I was. You saved me. You saved me before I even started running.” He pauses, and takes a ragged breath. “I think, if I’d stayed with you, none of this would ever have happened. I needed you.” And then she’s dragging herself upright too, and the tears in her eyes fog the world but she doesn’t care. “I’m here. I’m here again. I’m so sorry but I’m back and I - “ The grief in his eyes strikes her silent. There’s a sob rising in her throat again, and she still doesn’t have any shoes, and there’s cold alien stone between her toes. She tries to speak and can’t quite make it. “It’s too late,” he explains, slowly, brokenly. “I’ve gone too far. You saved me then, Arkytior, and I will always be grateful, but you can’t bring me back.” He moves suddenly, purposefully, and she can’t help flinching as the ragged edges of his paradox-ridden biodata brushes hers in the higher-dimensional air. And then he’s at the door of his timeship, of the TARDIS, and She opens without a key or a lock. (Behind the door is only dark; a part of her wonders what he keeps in there, what it is that makes them all so afraid, why he can drive the Enemy back like no other weapon they have.)    There is something like a smile on his face, but it’s made of razor blades. “The War doesn’t give back what it takes,” he says, and takes a dust-gold breath. “They’ll come for you once they see I’ve come back for orders, Arkytior. It won’t take long.” He steps into the dark, and it takes her a moment to process that the door is closing - and for a moment all she can think is that he never said goodbye. (Of course he doesn’t. He never liked goodbyes.) And then the familiar timeship electric wheeze echoes and sparks in the air, and the whirlwind of air displacement starts up, and she almost screams. Throws herself at the receding shape of the blue box, but by the time she lands it’s gone - and she never said - “I love you,” she shrieks, spinning on the empty ground. “I love you, I love you - I love you - Other’s grave - Theta, please, I love you, please - “ But he isn’t listening.                                                           [=|=] The War goes on, and even in the vortex-isolated sheltered halls of Gallifrey, behind the Sky Trenches and the transduction barrier and the supposedly impenetrable break between Inner and Outer Time, even there she can feel it. She can feel the timelines behind them and the worldlines ahead of them shifting, warping, beginning to splinter.       The War goes on, and things only get worse.    She doesn't see the Warrior again. He stays at the front, receiving orders via his own Matrix connection - which is, funnily enough, also Presidential, although he never properly took up the responsibility, although the Matrix still bows to King and Queen first.    She's there the day Faction Paradox finally breaks through Inner Time, erasing it's own creation in one final stupendous act of blasphemy; in a possibly even greater stroke of irony, not a single one of the Time Lords the organization had set out to scandalize even seems to notice.    She's there the Celestis conceptual-reality Mictlan is lost to the Enemy, and the susequent loss of several hundred galaxies as the Enemy takes advantage of its foothold in the greater universe.    She's there the day they find the truth of what's behind the Enemy - the day of Shroedinger's battlefield and all that is won or lost there, the first attempts at chronoform creation that would later lead to the Moment.    Things are falling apart, and the War King runs - hiding himself at the end of the universe, it's said, though nobody can seem to be sure how - and Romana takes over as President and General. The Warrior's still here, but growing increasingly erratic, increasingly hard to control, and rumour grows that he's slowly going over to the other side.    (She dreams.)                                                                [=|=] Arkytior’s in the Presidential office when it happens. The Lady President and War Queen who was once Romana is sitting at her desk, staring into space, her fingers tapping a delirious broken four-four rhythm on the chair she’s sitting on. Arkytior doesn’t know why she’s been summoned - what’s happening in the War at large - and so she stays back and she stays quiet and she waits. She can suspect, anyway. As President, Romana currently has the highest Matrix clearance available; she’s connected to the Matrix in a way that supersedes the standard constant telepathic bond, tied into its center - in fact it’s reasonably accurate to say she is the Matrix. She has access to every single circuit and function and being connected to the Matrix, including the Gallifreyans themselves, everything from the lowliest door-opening sensor to the mechanism holding the Eye of Harmony itself in place. Right now, her body may be here, but her mind is faraway along the telepathic relay lines, on the front lines - watching the War through the eyes of the newest day-old soldiers and timeships spinning through higher dimensions, coordinating, keeping it all together. She’s doing the War King’s job as well as her own; strategist and general and empress all in one. She’s holding the Matrix together by sheer force of will. She’s the heart of the Matrix, every signal goes through her, and Arkytior can tell by the blank terrible look in her eyes that right now all of it is screaming. And then those blue eyes spark with golden pain suddenly, and everything shifts. Arkytior can feel the timelines twist as well as any time-sensitive thing; it happens often nowadays, another sign of the increasing instability of Inner Time. She rides it out relatively easy, respiratory bypass activating automatically, hands going up to clutch her head as her past turns itself inside out - a painful distortion, still one she can deal with. - but Lady President Romana is plugged into the Matrix, and she can feel everything breaking. The other Time Lady doesn’t even scream; she just topples forward, her mind shutting down under the strain. Arkytior moves without thinking, pushing away her own confusion to help the President up, but by the time she’s moved across the cavernous room Romana’s already clawing her way upright, eyes in the distance again. [[I’m fine - ]] she forces out, except that the signal comes straight from the Matrix instead of through the air - the other woman winces, and shakes her head, and takes a shuddering breath. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” she repeats. Arkytior bites her tongue. “Lady President - “ “Shut it,” Romana snaps, swaying slightly but upright. She blinks again, and then her eyes finally focus. “That’s it, that’s the Thirteenth Wave done for.” “Is the battle over?” “Of course it’s not, it’s been barely fifteen spans,” Romana bites out. She presses the heel of one hand against her forehead, and shakes her head, and moves. “But you’re not…?” Arkytior asks, wishing vaguely she could help. “Lost cause,” Romana says. Arkytior opens her mouth to protest - the Enemy can’t have wiped out an entire Wave in one go, there must be so many soldiers still out there - “[[Lost cause,]]” Romana repeats savagely, overlaying it with the same message on command-frequencies - a message that quite literally cannot be argued. Arkytior tries not to flinch. And then Romana cuts it out instead, shaking her head. “No. I’m sorry. Arkytior - your name is Arkytior?” The Dreamer, Arkytior wants to say, and nods instead. “I don’t like you,” says Romana cleanly. She stands straight now, leaning back against her desk slightly, staring Arkytior down. “And I judge it highly improbable that you like me. I don’t like the way you stay out of danger and out of the way, I don’t like the way you pretend that none of this affects you, I don’t like the way you seem to think the world owes you anything when you haven’t worked a day in your life, never done anything but be a pretty piece of statuary.” Her eyes are hard and clear. “I don’t like that you used to know the Doctor, either, I’ll be honest about that. He never quite looked at me, you know - he never quite looked at everyone. Even then. He lies to everyone, including himself. Mostly himself.” She takes a slow breath. “I hated that even when it was us, together, he’d still sometimes think of you.” Arkytior holds her breath and doesn’t give anything away. “Did he?” “Of course he did,” Romana snaps. “Don’t be so damned naive, he’s been in love with you for millennia, of course he did. That’s another thing I don’t like.” Her gaze is almost clinical now. “What is it you like to call yourself? The Dreamer?” Arkytior digs fingernails into her palms - of course the Matrix would know, it’s only to be expected, she can’t panic. It isn’t her father she’s talking to. “....Yes.” “Don’t dream,” Romana says harshly. “Do.” And then she’s grabbed Arkytior’s hand, completely disregarding the scandalous skin-on-skin contact - and is dragging her away down the room, pulling her down, talking fast. “The War is going badly, Dreamer. You must know that - I don’t think even you could ignore that.” Arkytior catches the edge of a telepathic signal in the air; the wall behind the desk opens up cleanly as they approach, turning into an archway with a small and considerably more cluttered room behind it. “Matrix predictions aren’t reliable anymore, with the Enemy asserting alternate reality, but we can all feel it anyway, can’t we?” She turns, letting go of Arkytior’s hand, pushing her down into a skeletal chair at the edge of a room. “We’re not going to win this. The best we can hope for is a draw. Whatever happens - whoever comes out of this - Gallifrey isn’t going to survive as gods of reality anymore.” Arkytior watches, nervous, as Romana pulls something - a wireframe network of sparks and metal and glass - off the floor. She doesn’t try to move away; whatever’s going to happen, will happen, whatever she does. There’s something strangely beautiful about the tableau; the Lady President on her hands and knees, black hair falling forward, ornate white Presidental robes dusty and soot-stained - blue eyes narrow and preoccupied, and something unbelievably stubborn in the set of her shoulders. Holding Gallifrey together with sheer will. Romana’s hands are dirty, blood under her fingernails and the scars of anti-time and paradox embedded in her biodata, but she’s still strong. “I see,” Arkytior says, eventually. Romana pulls herself upright, suddenly focusing on the other Time Lady again. “And when we’re gone - not if, when - do you know who’s going to come out of this alive? Do you know which of us - which one single one of us - still has a chance?” Arkytior swallows. “I don’t know.” It’s a lie. There’s something almost exasperated in the way Romana tilts her head. “Oh, you really don’t know him well at all, do you.” Arkytior looks at the President sidelong, uncertain. “The Doctor.” “Yes,” says Romana tiredly. “Yes. The Doctor, or the Warrior, or the Oncoming Storm, the Destroyer of Worlds, Time’s Champion, the Eighth Man Bound. Whatever you want to call him.” There’s a note of something that could almost be pride in her voice now. “Nothing kills the Doctor.” “When the Time Lords are all gone,” Arkytior repeats. “Yes. Hold this.” Arkytior accepts the tangle of circuitry automatically; Romana waves a vague hand in her direction. “There are better ways to do this, but it’s harder without a timeship to do the calculations, and we can’t trust the Matrix anymore. It’s conceptual space, there are turned Celestis agents everywhere.” She lifts a four-foot long serrated sword out of the clutter, considers it for a moment, chucks it at the wall in a surprisingly practiced motion; it stays embedded there, quivering. “Do you know what that means?” “He’ll be - alone,” Arkytior tries. “Yes.” Romana turns, and for a moment Arkytior thinks her eyes are wet, but there’s steel under it. “He’ll be alone. And you - you must know him enough for that, you must know that that wouldn’t end well.” Arkytior knows. (She remembers, in the hills of Cadon, just outside the Academy - hand in hand mind against mind twining through each other - and she remembers that telltale undercurrent of restlessness, the need to run, and she remembers why it’s there. She remembers the darkness he’s running from. She remembers the Warrior, and she remembers when it caught up with him.) (You saved me.) “He’s alone now,” she points out. Romana pauses, almost surprised, and she softens just a little “Yes. That’s right.” Arkytior takes a breath, very carefully. “You’re saying he needs someone.” She tilts her head, eyes narrowed, trying to get a good look at the thing in the center of the room. “That’s a chameleon arch. You said - when the Time Lords are all gone.” Maybe it’s a bitter kind of smile, maybe it isn’t; either way, Romana’s moving again. “You’re cleverer than you like to pretend, aren’t you?” Arkytior shrugs. “Are you going to - “ She’s almost scared to ask the question. ‘If he needs someone, and if - “ she reasons, careful - “well, I was Heir to Gallifrey. I could - I could take the Presidency. And you could - “ The look in Romana’s eyes stops her. There’s a kind of sheer power there, and in that moment Arkytior understands; The Lady President Romanadvoratrelundar  will never abandon this planet, will never abandon her people, will never run as the War King did; whatever it takes. No matter if it kills her, and it will, and she knows it. She is not the Doctor. She will never, ever run. But the Dreamer just might. A kind of agreement passes between them, right there; a grudging kind of respect, even. They both know how this ends. They both know what they have to do. Romana moves first; places a crown of metal and thorns and electricity on Arkytior’s head, swears distractedly as something snaps, connecting fat sinewy wires with deft fingers that barely shake at all. “This is what the Master did, too; this is the only way to get out of the War. You’re going to be human. You remember humans? They’re a timeblind mindblind species in the Mutter’s Spiral, spread across a few galaxies at their height. Cute, not especially clever, can be really astonishingly tough when you least expect them to be.” “The Doctor likes them,” Arkytior confirms. “That’s them,” Romana says through gritted teeth, some kind of sonic device held in her mouth. She takes it back out, starts soldering something together just above Arkytior’s head. (She can smell hair burning. She doesn’t comment.) “Arkytior translates to Rose” - the alien word thick and clumsy compared to the fluid silver syllables of Gallifreyan - “so we’ll call you that. Already picked out a likely-looking breeding couple to transplant you to, names Jackie and Pete Tyler.” She steps back, considers. “Rose Tyler, growing up in London in the late twentieth century. That should work out well.” “How are you sure he’ll find me?” Arkytior asks, and sits up straight, careful not to disturb the web of technology on her head. “Oh, he always does,” the War Queen says bitterly. She closes her eyes, lips moving in a mantra Arkytior can’t see - opens them again. “Bloody stupid fixed-point Other’s-taken paradox-tainted little Loom glitch - “ Arkytior stops her, hand going out, carefully balanced and yet urgent, just before she hits the switch. “No - wait - “ Romana stops. Narrows her eyes - shakes her head slightly, as if trying to get water out of her ears, but Arkytior can tell from here than it doesn’t help. The Matrix still screaming. The Thirteenth Wave dying one by one by one. “Yes. What.” Arkytior bites her tongue. “What about you?” The War Queen looks very very young, suddenly - and Arkytior realizes with a start that she’s almost twice the age of the Lady President, that she and Theta were at the Academy nearly a millennium before Romana was even Loomed. She’s on her third regeneration, and Arkytior on her first, but that doesn’t mean much. The woman, the young Time Lady, swallows, but the steel is still there in her eyes. Exhausted and terrified but still holding it all together, still keeping up the hyper-efficient facade, still fighting. “I wait until you’ve been turned,” says Romana, and her voice only barely wavers. “I take the Presidential Ship and I give you to Jackie Tyler and I convince her that you’ve always been there, that you should be there. I hide the last Time Lady and Rassilon’s Heir, and I make sure you’re hidden well, and then I come back.” “To the War.” “To the War in Heaven,” she repeats, toneless, “and then I fight until the Enemy comes up the steps of the Panopticon and tears down the statues of the Founders and I fight until they’re at the Eye of Harmony and I fight them until I’m alone in the hivemind, facing an alternate history with a sword and a will. I make it happen, because nobody else will. I fight until it kills me, or until the Warrior does, whichever comes first.” She closes her eyes, and takes a long smooth breath, and holds it; respiratory bypass kicking in, calming chemicals in her bloodstream, until the Matrix stabilizes around both of them, going hard and ice-cold and powerful again. “Goodbye,” says Arkytior, softly. “Good luck.” “Just one more thing,” Romana hisses, the pain obvious in her voice, blinking back useless tears. (Holding it all together.) “Maybe I’m wrong, and he won’t survive, and then you’ll be the last one left, okay?” Arkytior nods, not daring to speak. “You better damn well make yourself worth it,” says Romana, and hits the switch. There is pain, and there is light, and there is nothing after that.                                                               [=|=] Rose Tyler is nineteen years old when she meets the Doctor, and her life changes with one word: “Run.”

[prydonian-academy-noticeboard]

Do you love music? Do you love NOT studying in the evening? Do you love ME?

If so, come see the Gallifrey Academy Hot Five in our debut performance down in the main hall TONIGHT!!

There will be drinks provided! All are welcome (except Runcible).

- Theta (lead Perigosto stick)

[prydonian-academy-noticeboard]

I think I just saw Theta walk in covered in blood?!??

- Filed under Student Submissions

[prydonian-academy-noticeboard]

URGENT NOTICE I saw runcible trip on his robes and it was really funny

Filed under Student Submissions

[prydonian-academy-noticeboard]

URGENT NOTICE saw Theta and Koschei snogging behind the rafters. However, Koschei did stop the kissing to say "no homo" before continuing, so, not as gay as you'd think

Ummmm…. No comment - K

[prydonian-academy-noticeboard]

URGENT NOTICE borusa is gay lolllll 😂👌💯

- Filed under “Student Submissions”