This is a story that is Doctor Who fanfiction, meaning that I, unfortunately, do not own it. This fic was inspired by Snow White, my second favorite fairy tale, which belongs to the Brothers Grimm. As such, I am a huge fan of Snow White fanfiction, and was also inspired by the multiple published fanfic novels, including The Grimm Diaries, Snow White and the Huntsman, Nameless, and even Risen Snow, which all gave different, darker twists to the tale. I just a) feel these novels need to be read by many people, and b) don't want anyone to see any similarity to any work and think I'm taking anyone's concept without due credit. Someone took from my work directly without credit recently, and it really hurt. I don't know who soul marks belong to, but they are perfect. If you know, please tell me so I can credit them as well.
This is a gift fic for Foxmoon, who is amazing. Thank you for everything you do. Also big thanks to Cheile and Vampiyaa for a beta-read. You both are brilliant. Finally, thank you to Music500, who helped the muse along a while back.
I should warn for the fact that this is my first fic with any form of fluff in it - I normally do dark and serious, or seriously dark. Now I'm doing dark and fluffy. There is going to be some talk about her self image based on her scars, and her struggle to stop being mute, and the way her ever-present stutter will affect her life. There will also be a bit of a slow burn, because while this is Ten/Rose, the two of them meet and discover their soul bond instantly, and as two people who have never met, it'll take a few chapters. The first two chapters will feature Rose as a child, and Rose and Ten are not raised together. He meets her when she is nineteen.
Here is the Prologue.
The rules to existence on New Earth as a human being were very simple. All humans who lived on New Earth had been raised with them, but the rules were posted everywhere for the new humans who moved onto the planet and gained citizenship from other human colonies around the galaxy.
As victors of the Time War, the Time Lords were in control of all things on Earth. Deigning the planet to be unacceptable and nearly drained of resources, they moved the entire populace to New Earth. Each being was tested and educated, placed into the careers for which they showed the highest aptitudes. As such they were housed, fed, and clothed appropriately, being paid appropriately as well in order to ensure social harmony. Any time the harmony was broken, the Time Lords intervened and removed the source of fracture, thus permitting society to continue.
1. All humans and non-Time Lord races are to be respectful and obedient of Time Lords at all times, especially leaders of the Seven Clans.
2. All humans and non-Time Lord races are to complete their appropriate schooling and contribute to society; thus they shall always be amply fed, clothed, and sheltered.
3. The assigned religion is to be respected and believed in as required.
4. All Holidays assigned by the Time Lords are to be respected and celebrated as required.
5. All humans and non-Time Lord races must obey the curfew set by their age brackets and Holiday appropriateness.
6. All humans and non-Time Lord races must maintain the Faith, for the Founders had a plan of omnipotence.
7. There shall be no harming of other beings in any way, shape, or form that is not in self-defense.
8. All rules and requirements to be followed by individual beings or alien races shall be given in a booklet, and are to be followed at all times.
9. Identification is to be worn at all times.
10. Everything shall occur in the Lords' time, as they are Time's masters.
Disobedience would permit the Time Lords to punish, at their discretion. Depending upon the severity of the crime, there would be a removal of memories, telepathic mind changing so that one's personality no longer permitted them to be negative or cruel followed by a change of career into voluntary, caregiving, and charity work, prison time, or at the very worst - a removal from the planet and a return to the original Earth. While now covered with resources, it was also covered in the remains of the ancient societies business buildings and apartments, all retaken by nature. There would be no one else present to help the person sent there, they would survive the rest of their years alone. Direct harm given to any Time Lord would be enough to merit this most grievous punishment.
The howling pierced the night, the sound of dogs eager for the scent of prey, the thrill of the hunt; the kill.
She ran on thin legs, no shoes on her feet and barely a stitch of clothing on save for a shift that appeared to be haphazardly stitched from old curtains. The icy streets had at first been painful, causing lacerations and bruises that would take such a long time to heal, but after running for such a long stretch her feet were numb; as were her bruised legs, knobby knees, and arms. Her wild hair hadn't seen a brush, dreadlocked and matted naturally from a lack of care.
The faces of the people that had terrorized the seven year old child flashed before her eyes, making her run faster, sliding a few times as she found patches of ice. The baying of the animals that pursued her were heard in the distance, echoing off the buildings and dancing along the alleyways of London like echolocation, the terror gripping the child as she couldn't be certain... were they nearer?
She imagined them in her mind as fear coursed through her body, big angry wolves wanting to bite her skin and destroy her. It was one o'clock in the morning, and nobody was out in these neighborhoods right now, too busy resting for tomorrow's festivities. Samhain was the most popular holiday, after all. Well... after Yule, of course. Everyone kept an early night before Samhain, in order to party well into the morn. These were holidays the little girl had never partaken in, she had never been exposed to such happiness save for tonight. The happiness was as she'd discovered the true reason behind the celebration. Tonight she and the Other had been taken to the Special Place, with the mirror. They were finally allowed to spend time with Her… the two of choice had presented them, except…
A man's voice, he'd screamed that at the both of them. She and the Other had run. She didn't know what had happened to the Other, because she'd stumbled while escaping. The girl felt guilt pierce her heart, making her wince at just the thought of the other girl getting caught. She had been trapped in an alleyway, no sign of being able to escape.
Another loud howl, and this one was distinctly closer to her. It couldn't be far now. She could almost feel it's breath on the back of her neck, her stomach going cold with fear as she worried about being caught. Someone shoved her - she knew them, right? - and she instantly lost her balance, barely missing the sewer hole cover that breathed hot wet steam upwards, temporarily clouding her vision and sending a scent into her nose that was familiar in all the wrong ways. The acrid smell of brackish water and molded pathways sent her tiny body into further panic than the fight or flight that she'd been in, and she slipped on the steamed water that was coming out of the sewer cover, melting the ice around it and burning her feet. Her body slapped against the pavement, the baying sounding nearer, as though the dogs knew she'd taken a tumble and the excitement made their jaws ache to close on her body.
Where did the other person go? Why did they shove her?
She struggled to get to her feet but slipped again, her body beginning to give way to exhaustion now that she'd stopped for a moment, and she finally gave up when it became obvious that her burnt feet could find no purchase on the slick ground about her. Another howl to her right propelled her forwards, crawling with all of her might into the middle of the road on severely scabbed hands, many of the nails ripped to shreds or even ripped off. Her vision was suddenly invaded by a bright light, followed by a loud screech and pain along her side, sending her tumbling to the ground, her head connecting with the cobblestone and making the brightness give way into a world of black before she could fully realize what had occurred.
The black door to a Lincoln six passenger stretch limo opened swiftly, and a man exited, dressed in a black oxford with a professional bulletproof vest on that strapped at his shoulders and buckled at his sides, still looking tight and formal but comfortable enough to move swiftly, belying the multiple years he had worked security for this family. His black leather belt kept his well-fitting black jeans up at the waist, boots finishing off the look as they crunched in the snow, gun drawn, checking the area for any threats before his olive eyes fell on the girl on the ground. The snow was beginning to pile on her, and his ebony mustache was beginning to collect a few flakes as well.
"Brigadier, what is taking so long?" called an elegant, yet bored voice from the car.
Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart frowned a bit and called out, "Mithras Christ….It's a little girl. Looks severely damaged, sir."
The driver of the car stepped out quickly, rushing over and opening the back door for the single occupant. Lord Gamma was the head not only of the House Lungbarrow, but also the head of the Seven prominent families in the area, all of them vampires who preferred to be called Time Lords. The Time Lords owned the Earth, as they were the top of the food chain. They'd come out of hiding after millenia of trying to coexist with the humans, 'coming out of the coffin' as some humans had jokingly coined. Lord Gamma had found no humour in any of it, and instantly called his allies and those like him to take over the human race. For Lord Gamma, there was no need to try to make nice with those who were beneath him, and many of the other Time Lords agreed. The humans had been welcoming to a point, but the militant groups of Bible quoting 'slayers' had started a conflict that was known as the Time War.
Afterward, a new pecking order had been solidified with the Time Lords on top, as the winners. Known well for their need for order and compartmentalization, they went about re-ordering society from its basest levels on through laws, public works, everything - even the most logical religious views. As all Time Lord Elders were born long ago, they had chosen Pagan religions that logically followed the movements of the stars and planets.
Lord Gamma stepped out into the snow silently, his expensive double breasted blazer showing from underneath his matching dark grey trench coat, the black silk vest well hidden at this point. He made it to the Brigadier's side, staring down at the child in the snow, a flash of something in his eyes that had not been seen by the other man since the passing of his wife a few years prior. It was why the Lord had been out so late, he'd been mourning his wife at her tomb. She had died on this exact day. Staring at the young girl, her pale skin so marred with bruises and lacerations in various stages of infection and healing, it was hard to tell what her actual complexion was.
"Pick her up," Lord Gamma murmured, coolly.
"I said to pick her up, Brigadier. We are taking her home to Sarah."
"Would not the A&E work just as well for the little human?" his driver asked.
"I gave you an order, Brigadier," Lord Gamma's words were distracted, but still disdainful. "As for the A&E," he turned to his driver, with a scowl. "... Put in a call to Grace. I want the tiny human to be seen in my quarters."
The Brigadier sent a quizzical look at the driver, but they obeyed, setting the little girl down in the backseat as the Brigadier held open the door for Lord Gamma. The two men stopped, looking to an alleyway as they swore they heard the sound of hunting dogs, but the sound disappeared with the hissing of a manhole cover, shooting up steam and blurring the alleyway. Lord Gamma slid into the backseat, looking at the little girl's prone body on the side seat, the Brigadier right across from her. What about her made his boss so interested?
She was a little slip of a thing, and true she was severely injured… but his boss wasn't known for his sympathy toward humans. Like other Time Lords, he kept the separation between his kind and theirs firm. But the question still stayed at the forefront of his mind as he heard his boss calling his oldest son, as his youngest son was still at Academy.
"Braxiatel. No, everything is superlative. You shall tell Sarah Jane for me that we are expecting a guest. As soon as you hang up, call Grace and have her come to treat the wounds of my guest. Of course, and have the upper lights dimmed, and the rest of the servants are to be out of sight." he hung up, looking at the Brigadier with cold eyes.
"Do not question me, even in your private thoughts."
Lord Gamma also did not subscribe to the Telepaths Code of Etiquette, choosing instead to weave in and out of people's thoughts as desired.
A few hours later found them at the Lungbarrow Manor, the Brigadier standing outside of his boss' private quarters while looking at his boss' eldest son, Irving Braxiatel. His only other child, another son, was Theta Sigma, who was away at Academy. Brax was dressed to impress in an overly expensive dark grey silk suit, including a vest, ever the mirror of his father. Tightly cropped dark brown hair that he got re-trimmed once a week, he had all of the class that his brother Theta tended to lack in his urge to rebel. Brax just gave him a cool glance, before his eyes snapped to the door as Sarah Jane hustled out of the room, closing the door behind her and carrying a bowl of previously hot water and used rags. The pinkishness of the water and the slight metallic scent in the air told of the blood of an anemic child. She returned moments later with clean rags and hot water, opening and closing the door.
The Brigadier was amazed, because Braxiatel seemed to be just as interested in the little girl, this young vampire who was interested in nothing human, ever. Irving Braxiatel, in his long years of service, had proven to be a cold, unfeeling ass. The man was self-centered, arrogant, and often fought with his brother. He even waited in such a blasé manner, glancing at his manicured nails with an elegant eyebrow raised, pursing his lips slightly. The Brigadier tried not to think too loudly about his concerns, wondering what would make Gamma so interested, let alone Brax. He tried to assign his mind to faith, reminding himself of the rules of existence. It was hard, letting go of his questions, even though he was concerned; he knew his boss wasn't going to feed off the girl. His answers would be given at the Lord's pace, as they always were.
Braxiatel's smirk told him he'd heard.
After waiting for another forty minutes, a male doctor came out of the room, looking at Braxiatel and murmuring the assent for the young man to come in, along with the Brigadier. The calm way he nigh on glided into the room always made the Brigadier feel clunky, but he followed, the crimson of the room seeming brighter with only candles lit in the room.
The little girl was on the bed, covered in bandaging. She was clean, however; and in a silk button down shirt owned by Lord Gamma that she absolutely swam in. It would do for pajamas, but it was again unlike the Lord to act that way toward anyone, to be so charitable - save for his children and his late wife. Oh, and Sarah Jane, but she was the only human he could stand. The human medic wasn't faring very well, seeming absolutely exasperated with the Elder Time Lord in front of her, who looked his usual mix of arrogance and boredom.
"You are free to speak in front of them, Grace," Lord Gamma's voice interrupted the silence. "Surely my son is curious as to the girl's condition."
"Well… the girl has a lot of scrapes, bruises… they were just made worse because they weren't cleaned. She's lucky she didn't end up with blood poisoning, but she'll heal up here in a handful of weeks. She's obviously been terrorized, and the stabwound on her side is very troubling. Richard already looked through the city records, and there's no record of her at all, and he even went via blood records."
The man in question had indeed taken a sample of her blood and put it into his tablet, and come back with nothing. It did, however, show her blood analysis levels - severe anemia, low blood sugar, malnutrition… the Brigadier frowned at the thought.
"She's lucky she didn't catch hypothermia and die out there. There's obvious malnutrition, and the conditions she was living in were definitely not optimal... anything else will have to be gone over with Richard tomorrow."
Lord Gamma nodded slowly, before looking up at the child psychiatrist that Grace was dating. Richard. He looked back at Grace, and scowled. "After the meeting, I demand the paperwork to be put in place."
"Lord Lungbarrow. You cannot just have a child simply because you want her. Why do you even want her? You're not even the same species. If I may remind you, it's your laws that make it so that this can't be done-"
"I may have found your pluckiness to be amusing before, but I would highly advise against making it tiresome. As for why… that is none of your concern. The child is mine. I found her."
"My Lord," Richard broke in, using the etiquette all humans were taught in the school systems when speaking to a Time Lord, "I understand and respect your feelings. If I may remind His Lordship, Grace is not from New Earth, she does not fully understand how things work here just yet. She is but three weeks into her citizenship request. But My Lord, we must go through the proper channels, in order that your power remains unquestioned. We can expedite the process, but that is the most we can do. I must speak to the child, Lordship, see how she is. See if she remembers who has done this to her."
"If she remembers, they will be taken care of," Lord Gamma's voice rumbled slightly as he stared out the velvet curtains, his golden brown eyes narrowing a bit. His irises expanded and his vision zoomed into the street, checking for anything amiss before closing the curtains tightly.
That sentence was directed at the Brigadier, who had nodded curtly. He understood an order when one was given. A rough procurement of a violator of the Laws was not at all unheard of. It wouldn't matter after their Punishment anyhow, especially if their minds were changed.
Lord Gamma stood there a moment, reaching down to gently run his fingers along the brown hair that really was a bit softer than it looked. Grace began to protest again, insisting that human beings weren't owned, and that he couldn't do this when he snapped his fingers, finally tiring of her.
"Did you just snap at me-"
The Brigadier picked Grace up without much trouble, and deposited her at the top of the stairs.
"Your services have been helpful, but now you are late for your next appointment."
Another servant showed her out of the house, as she called out to her boyfriend. Richard followed, after promising to return for an appointment when the girl woke. He wasn't answered, not that he expected it. Grace needed to learn… and he was nervous about their discussion they would have later. He needed to plead with her to see reason, or else she might be forced to forget about him, and then he wouldn't be permitted to speak her name again, with the way she went about things.
A few hours later, the girl's eyes slowly opened.
It was daylight out, but the light was hidden by blackout velvet curtains. She looked around as her vision stopped blurring and came into focus. She was on something soft…? She slowly sat up, looking around the room, mystified by the crimson walls and the soft light flickering from the candles. Her eyes were drawn to the tomes taking up space along the shelves, the fancy gold writing of the titles were a mystery to her, but still beautiful. One was open on the large dark oak desk, a feather in an inkwell next to it. She didn't understand what that meant, but the feather was pretty.
"Somebody's awake," came the sound of a rich, soft voice in the doorway. The young man stared at her with fathomless eyes, and slowly walked to her, his blazer off, but silk vest over his oxford still. His cuffs were unbuttoned and rolled to the elbow, and he sat down at her feet on the bed, head tilted a bit. "Good morning to you."
Irving Braxiatel was joined by the child psychiatrist Richard Dalton, and he remained present while the girl was questioned. She was completely silent, something that Richard called 'Elective Mutism', stating that it was not uncommon in cases of child trauma. He'd spent quite a few hours with her, creating a bond with her as best he could and easing her into communication while monitored by Braxiatel and the Brigadier, whose Taurus PT999mm Parabellum pistols were both holstered so the butts of the guns - emblazoned with the Lungbarrow family emblem in gold - were showing. Braxiatel only glanced at the Brigadier once, when he noticed that Richard was teaching her how to use crayons and paper so she could try to explain herself. It was as if she'd never done a thing that normal human children did. All she drew remembering was running through the alleys, and then getting injured by light.
Lord Gamma stood in the doorway, the fathomless depths of his eyes easily mistaken for disapproval when they reflected simple curiosity and impatience. He glanced at his son, who had spent the most time with the girl, and gave him a mental cue to act. The girl in question stared at the way the sunset beams were coming through the window, reflecting on the hues of the wall. It'd been opened and shut for her earlier repeatedly, and she'd been allowed to open and close it as well. Richard had called it important, telling them that she needed to realize that she was not a prisoner in this room.
The little brunette blinked a bit, then clicked her crayon against the table a few times, drawing all eyes to her. She drew a picture of a woman right next to her, in what looked like the alleyway, as best as could be sussed out by a child's drawing. Braxiatel walked over to her slowly, tilting his head to the side. "Little One, do you trust me?"
She looked up at him with a soft frown marring her features. He'd been really nice, and so had the older man, Lord Gamma. The man with guns had been nice too, and so had everyone… and she didn't know them at all.
But he hadn't done anything to hurt her, had he?
She nodded, slowly, her soft cognac orbs holding a question in them.
"Don't worry. I'm just going to take a look, right up here," he murmured, gently tapping her forehead with a finger. "I'm going to see exactly what you've been trying to tell us, and we're going to know what you remember, that's all."
The look on her face nearly seized both of Braxiatel's hearts. She looked frightened, and he could sense the energy off of her body. The cortisol was kicking in, he could smell the fear based reaction in her body. Fight or flight, and she was battling both to try to be nice to the people who had been nice to her.
"Shhh, it won't hurt. I promise," he practically purred the words at her, letting his voice slide over her like soft caramel. He made his words hypnotic, as his kind were wont to do, in order to pacify prey. Now they had an altogether alternative use, but he ignored that. "It'll only bring us closer. I just want to see, Little Flower."
She looked at the others in the room, all of whom were giving her encouraging looks. She reluctantly agreed, nodding at him. The soft warmth of his fingers on her temples was the last thing she felt before she was suddenly absorbed in feeling like she was two people at once. Her mind moved without her consent, pictures of what had occurred that day blurring past her, her emotions sliding along as well. It was like a movie reel rewinding, until she was in a cold place, running somewhere - she was coming from a reservoir, soaking wet, wearing the old curtain styled into a poor excuse for a dress. She was running, covered in wounds, until she heard the howls - the baying of dogs. Hunting dogs. Not the wolves she'd feared.
She'd run far off, and Braxiatel noticed that she was in the Outlands, the runoffs from the Warehouse District. She made it into the Warehouse District via a ladder, struggling to get up, and then stopped for a moment in amazement at sights she'd never seen - buildings, the acrid smells of manufacturing that often left Time Lords curling their lips. She'd run as fast as she could, avoiding the shadows, the faces of those chasing her unable to be recalled no matter how hard Brax tried - and try he did. Her brain wasn't just doing what the human brain was wont to do - protecting itself from pain by making the memories difficult to access - the memories were blanked like the flash of a camera. It was supernatural intervention that was keeping these memories away, but not a Time Lord. If a Time Lord had done it, it would not have even contained the flash. This was shoddily done, and done so that it caused her pain.
He found the point he'd been looking for. She was trapped in the alleyway made of brick, pressed against a wooden fence when a warm hand slid into hers. She'd looked up in time to see a beautiful woman, a woman whose face that Brax knew like the back of his hand. Her ginger red hair, a sprinkling of freckles around her nose and cheeks, deep brown eyes that reflected eternity… she held the girl's hand and whispered "Run, Little One," and led the girl out of the hole in the wooden fence separating alleyways. She'd led her all through the Warehouse District until the final street - the one where the girl had fallen in front of their car.
He pulled out of her mind, seeing the girl in tears. He was emotional himself, but kept it well hidden beneath his usual mask of cool nonchalance. Standing up as his father called for Sarah Jane to come and comfort the girl, he gave one glance back at her and regretted being party to her pain. Sarah Jane instantly made it up the stairs, offering the girl a hug. A look of confusion was remedied by being wrapped in someone's arms, someone soft and warm, who smelled of things that made her little tummy rumble. Sarah Jane shot Brax a dirty look, and gently brushed back the little girl's hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead as Brax realized that the little girl had no memory, physical or mental, of being embraced.
Lord Gamma nodded to his son, who responded instantly.
"It was Mother."
He'd known that had been what he'd smelled on the girl when he'd seen her. His wife enjoyed time travel, using her vortex manipulator in order to travel different places. It had been how she'd known that there would become an end to the burning of witches, the Black Death, the change of planets, she'd seen all, because she hit randomize on her vortex manipulator in order to answer life's questions, believing truly in the power of the universe. So when they had not been given a daughter, despite the direst of wishes from his darling wife, he'd known it would be a matter of time before she used it. She told him that the first female child she saw would be theirs, she simply knew it; clicking randomize and disappearing from thin air. When she'd returned, she'd told him of finding a little girl, and saving her life.
She looked so badly frightened, someone harmed her. We shall have to find them, Gamma. I didn't know what to do… Until I saw your car…
He'd known it when he saw her. Braxiatel had known it when he'd gotten the phone call.
"Push the papers through, Dr. Dalton. I don't care how you do it, get it done."
Richard nodded slowly, murmuring his assent and something along the lines of having it done by Monday morning. Lord Gamma didn't care one way or another, as he walked over to the girl, gently touching her cheek, despite her slight flinch. She would know him in time. Until then, he pressed his finger to her temple, gently informing her of who the woman had been, why she'd saved the girl. It had given her comfort, and she didn't look at him with fright anymore.
"Lord Gamma, one thing… the girl's name. What is it? Or, rather, what shall I register it as?"
She looked up at him, and he responded to Richard, his dark eyes taking her in.
"The young Lady Arkytior of Lungbarrow," he responded while keeping his eyes on her. "After her mother."
Naming her after his late wife had been his intent ever since seeing the same dark brown of her eyes, the ones that reflected in his own eyes, and his sons'. His wife's… he could give this girl everything, this girl that his wife had chosen. She didn't have the privilege of knowing little Arkytior for very long, but he would take up her calling, and make her proud. When she had been dying, she'd begged it of him. Having this child would be like a part of his wife forever, genetics be damned.
Sarah Jane brought in the food for the girl, along with a little nightgown that would fit her, coming from Sarah's little niece. After feeding her, giving her a bath and scrubbing that hair, she began getting her dressed. Lord Gamma had returned to the room once little Arkytior was dressed again, the Brigadier heading to his room as his second in command took post in front of the door.
Sarah Jane began trimming and combing Arkytior's hair until it finally lay smooth. She'd been as gentle as she could, but every time the girl's eyes began to tear, Lord Gamma got a spark of anger in his eyes toward Sarah. Braxiatel sat down at the desk, beginning to write a few things down, keeping books in some of the family business while his father took his new little sister away from the mirror and sat on the bed, resting against it so Arkytior was pulled against his side, her head on his chest.
She perked up in surprise, holding up two fingers.
"Yes, Precious One, I've two hearts, just like your mummy," he murmured, and she laid down again, feeling his fingers going through her hair. She was confused by the terms 'mummy' or 'daddy', and he could see that. She was confused by how he was related to her at all.
He pressed his fingertips to her temples, giving her mind a gentle, comforting caress the same way he gently rubbed her back, as he'd done for his sons when they were little. He informed her of what the words meant, and then whispered in her mind.
I am not your true father, but my wife was the woman who saved you. She brought you to me, because we could have no more children. She wanted a little girl, just like you.
Her head tilted to the side, her mind so quiet. She didn't even ask questions in her mind, the way young girls would have by her age. She gave no words, just pictures.
Because, little Arkytior, she truly held Faith. She believed in the Universe, and set her randomizer to answer who was the little girl meant to be in our family. She found you.
Arkytior frowned a bit, a picture in her mind popping up of the ginger woman who smiled so sweetly at her. She felt warm, thinking of that smile.
That's right. That's her.
Something occurred to him then that hadn't before.
Would you like her to be your mummy, and us your family?
She thought for a few minutes, and he released his hand from the side of her face to give her privacy. She stared him in the eyes and nodded, slowly; her first outward form of communication. He felt a surge of pride in himself, she was showing trust.
He stroked the side of her face again, going into her mind the same way he had when the boys were little, to create the familial bond between their minds. Eventually, they wouldn't need to touch anymore due to familiarity. He then gave her a story in her mind, with actual pictures and movement. It was a fable from his home village of Gallifrey, about a witch named Baba Yaga, and a young girl of Cinderella-like quality named Vasilsa.
She'd fallen asleep in a mental and physical cocoon of comfort, and Braxiatel had gotten up from his bookkeeping to lay down on the other side of her, both of them fully clothed, as they wouldn't need to sleep for a few more days at least. However, they would watch her as she slept, sitting on top of the covers, the girl wrapped in a velvet goose down blanket.
Brax glanced at his father, the question of how they would tell Theta going unanswered. Of course it wouldn't matter what Theta thought, because he wouldn't be home from Academy to meet the girl until her nineteenth year of life, but he could at least learn to adjust in the next decade. He'd think of that later, however.
Brax nodded at the girl's wrist, a slight flash glowing under the light. It was words, a soul mark. The first words that her soul mate would say to her written along her skin, but no one could read it, no one knew what it said. It would form after the phrase had been said by the right person, lighting up and being felt by the girl when it occurred, and then the words would brand her skin for all to see.
Which was fine, except that the girl was human. Soul marks were something distinctly for Time Lords. It was how they mated - each Time Lord mating was permanent. The soul marks ensured that they were fated, and once they mixed blood for the first time (usually done while mating for the first time, but it was based on preference. Some performed ceremonial blood mixing instead, due to personal choice, preference, or varying degrees of asexuality) they could never be with another. They could never enjoy another's touch sexually, for those who did; and their attraction would be solely toward their mate. Their bond was permanent.
A human having this was unheard of. It meant only one thing: that she was to be mated with a Time Lord.
Interesting… he didn't know when they would find out who, but obviously his mother had made a perfect choice. The girl was literally one in a million, the last human he'd heard of being soul marked was over 8 centuries ago, and he had no idea how that had turned out, but he would research it for certain. He could be patient to find out more about her.
His father's look was of surprise when he noticed the soul mark, but then he glanced at his son in a way that told him to drop it.
Everything in the Lord's time.
Thank you very much!