A/N: Series 3 DVD boxed set got delivered the other day. After watching the commentaries on the final episodes, I have acquired a fascination with Lucy Saxon. Because I'm drawn to messed up characters. Drabblish.
Disclaimer: I'm not that cool, really.
Little Lucy Cole sits alone on a swing during recess and tries not to cry.
She matters, she's important, she's a Cole. One of the Coles; her father is Lord Cole. She should be popular and regaled at. But children don't care about pedigrees and family names and politics. Children care about how stupid you look when you mess up your multiplication tables in front of everyone. Little Lucy could be the princess and they still would have laughed.
Little Lucy is pretty; exceptionally so, actually. Adults look at the little girl and smile and tut and marvel at what a perfect, delicate little porcelain doll she is. All they want to do is look at her. But children don't care how pretty she is. She never gets a question right when the teacher calls on her, and children don't care about the girl who never says anything smart.
Lucy looks around the playground at all the other little children. The ones who avoid her. She's special, her father tells her so. Don't they see it? No. Because they don't care. They just think she's stupid. When you're seven, that's what matters.
That's when Lucy Cole decides that one day, she's going to do something bright.
Little Lucy Cole walks through the halls alone, head held high on a pillar of glass. Now that family names and politics and society matter they matter for all the wrong reasons. And if they don't want you for that, they want you for cleverness, and Lucy can't claim to be extraordinarily clever.
Still, one day, she'll show them all. Her father always said she was special, and one day she's going to prove him right.
She thinks it's silly, when he looks at her, and tells her the stories again, that she ever thought he was lying; but then he leaves and she goes back to reading the manuscripts of his autobiography and she thinks again that something about the whole life story of this mysterious man is wrong.
So she digs deeper, and finds out that she's right.
Harry is charming, and he's clever, and he's ambitious, and she can tell that one day he is going to be very, very powerful.
So when he asks her if she'd like to know what the secret to that strange blue wooden box is, she nods.
Because Lucy Cole has just decided: she's going to do something bright.
Lucy Saxon is finally going to be the queen she's always supposed to have been.
"…not especially bright, but essentially harmless…" What does this Rook woman know, anyway? Does she think Lucy is so stupid that she doesn't know what her husband is doing? Little Lucy knows she isn't clever, but she also knows she isn't stupid. Marrying Harry was the smartest thing she ever did, because now she is going to be a queen. He is a god, her husband, and he is going to save all of those people, trapped there, at the end of everything…. And she intends to be there at his side, with him through it all, his faithful companion. She knows an opportunity when she sees it.
She's going to show them all just how bright she is. If there is one thing she understands, it's loyalty. She's made her decision. For better or for worse.
Little Lucy Saxon watches everything die. Her planet, her race, her husband's affection. She is queen of this world, this dying world.
They all think she's stupid, even now. Little Lucy, not very bright and essentially harmless. Even now, they all ignore her, because as far as they're all concerned, she's just a doll, standing there looking pretty. They don't even give her the credit of an accomplice. What do they know? The deranged wife of an even more deranged man. But she knows herself; she's not deranged, she's just loyal.
Loyal to a man who would save an entire civilization just so he could murder another. Loyal to the man who keeps the only other surviving member of his race in a cage. Loyal to a man whose staff is comprised mostly of women who get much closer to him nowadays than she does.
The maid drops the gun and it slides across the floor, coming to rest next to her feet. Her husband simply glares, still being held by the impossible immortal man.
And there still stands little Lucy Saxon, who everyone always said was harmless. So they ignore her, just like they always have. Because that's who she is. Harmless, brainless, little Lucy.
But if there is one thing that Lucy understands, it's loyalty.
No one notices porcelain hands lift the gun off the floor.
And little Lucy decides to do something bright.
For better or for worse, darling.
Till death do us part.