|The Valeyard Trilogy
Author: Kathryn Shadow PM
I got two or three requests to continue this, so this is me, continuing it. A trilogy of sorts, detailing why the Valeyard would want to muck up his own timeline. 10/Rose, Valeyard/Rose.Rated: Fiction T - English - Tragedy/Angst - Chapters: 3 - Words: 3,982 - Reviews: 26 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 03-13-08 - Published: 02-29-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4104326
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chibi!evil!Doctor threatened to kill me with a rubber band if I didn't write for him... and chibi!evil!Rose said she'd help him. .
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who and I borrowed clone!chibi!Valeyard from TCASM. So I own nothing of this except maybe the order of the words. MAYBE.
Dedication: TCASM. It's her birthday.
POST-EDIT COMMENTING THINGIE: I got two or three requests to continue, so I'm making it into a trilogy of oneshots. Or is it called a threeshot? -confused now- Anyway... On with it!
Her scream tore through the air, ripping into his soul, shattering it. Please, he begged whomever might be listening, please let it have been a scream of fear. It wasn't like her, but he honestly didn't mind, if it meant...
He roughly pushed through the Krynd to stand beside the altar she was chained to, quickly pulling out the sonic screwdriver to attempt to free her, trying to ignore yet so painfully aware of the crimson lifeblood welling from the single wound in her chest.
She choked, more blood coming through her mouth to stain her lips scarlet as she squinted up at him. Another breath caught in her throat as she tried to speak.
"See you then, Doctor," she finally managed to murmur sleepily before her eyes unfocussed and she quietly stopped breathing.
His movements froze, every fibre of his being screaming defiance. She couldn't be dead. She couldn't. Not her, not now, not at only twenty-one, not so uselessly! She was supposed to have died heroically, perfectly, decades from now, when her time came, not...
Hot tears dripped unheeded down his face, burning him even as the truth scorched itself into his soul.
He had come too late.
Every time they were in danger, he came in all heroic within seconds of being too late. It was a routine of sorts, part of his schedule. Wait until Rose wakes up, give her tea, have own tea, get into trouble, get Rose in danger, come in and save her just barely in time, run back to the TARDIS hand-in-hand, have a good laugh and then another cup of tea. Repeat.
He was never too late, some part of him insisted. This was a delusion. A dream. If he closed his eyes, opened them again, she would be before him.
But all he could see was her broken, bleeding body lying discarded on the cold rough stone of the altar, chained there.
He had come too late, he thought, numbly. She was dead... oh, Rassilon, she was dead and they...
Rage flooded through him, overtaking the grief and guilt, using it as fuel for the blaze of fury which ignited in his mind now. He murmured a broken apology to her dead form before whirling around to face the Krynd, his rage blazing blackly out of his eyes.
"You," he hissed.
"She was a good sacrifice," said the lead Krynd calmly, the picture of serenity— barring the blood on his thin fingers. Rose's blood. "She did not scream or fight like the others. She will please the gods; you should be happy."
"Don't you dare tell me to be happy when..." he snarled before trailing off, unable to say that she was dead. Saying it would fully admit it, and the moment he admitted it he would break. He couldn't break, couldn't rest, until she was avenged. His fury solidified into a rhythmic drumming— a steady boomboomboomboom, boomboomboomboom, counting out his heartbeats.
He snatched the ceremonial blade which had murdered her from the floor, grabbing the leader's hand and viciously slashing the back of it, across a spot where the tender veins pulsed. He watched with a twisted pleasure as the creature's black blood poured out to further stain the floor, mingling with the blood of countless victims. The alien gaped at him, unbelieving, before slowly collapsing to the ground.
The thirteen other Krynd stared blankly at their dead leader, eyes unfocussed with shock. He was beside the nearest in a moment; they looked up at him with naked terror in their light-purple eyes, and their fear pleased him. Let them feel fear, and pain, and death. Let them suffer for what they did to his Rose.
He laughed, a twisted, inhuman sound of delight at his merciless slaughter, calmly ignoring the TARDIS's voice in the back of his head begging him to stop.
Faster now, faster, the drums rang in his head, getting closer and closer with every life he took.
When all of the creatures lay dead, their black blood pooling to stain the cream colour of his Converses, he let himself break.
He slipped to the ground, sobbing countless apologies to Rose's lifeless body, screaming out his grief in a language no-one knew but him, wishing that he could just die as well; there was no such thing as life without her, he thought, and if there was an afterlife, then he wanted to get there as quickly as possible.
He could, he thought excitedly, grabbed the knife and turned it on himself.
He awakened, even he wasn't sure how long afterwards. He could still feel the merciful blade digging into his flesh, loosing his blood to mingle with that of Rose's murderers... he had tried so hard to stop the regeneration process, but he must have lost consciousness.
He kicked the altar in frustration, considering killing himself again, but an echo of the man he had once been stopped him.
If he just killed himself again and again, Rose would still be dead. But he was a Time Lord; it was his right to change history, his and no-one else's. If he fixed it, made it so he had never met her... He wasn't supposed to change his own timeline in such a way as he had never had a reason to change it, but since when had he ever followed the rules?
New vitality coursing through his reformed veins, he stumbled to his feet.
He couldn't just leave her there, even if she wouldn't ever come to this planet in the first place.
He found wood in a corner of the room— probably for other sacrifices, but he didn't care. It wasn't as if the Krynd were going to use it.
He piled it around her body, set fire to the end of one chunk of wood, and then touched it to the end of the makeshift pyre before tossing the chunk into her lap.
The Doctor watched her body be consumed by the funeral flames.
The Valeyard walked back to the TARDIS to stop himself from ever meeting her.
Went and studied the Valeyard a bit and just wondered why in Rassilon's name he would want to imprison himself... and this was the first thing that came to mind.
-hands clone!chibi!Valeyard back to TCASM- See? Still in one piece.
I know that the Valeyard was the thirteenth incarnation... But I can cheat a bit, can't I? And nobody said that he didn't BECOME the Valeyard beforehand. It has to take a bit of time to go backwards and safely stop oneself from meeting somebody, doesn't it?
If I said anything directly against canon... You know what? I don't care. The bleeding writers probably don't know what the canon is anymore. So if I said anything against canon, call it AU.
If it was crap... blame the fact that I haven't been sleeping well and it's currently 0045.