The light in Rassilon's eyes is cold and bright, an ancient star glittering in an arctic sky.
Did Adelaide see that in me?
He shudders, remembering. 'Time Lord Victorious.' 'That's for me to decide.'
He had chosen to forget what horrors an unrestrained Time Lord could commit: Gallifrey's Death Zone, where 'lesser species' battled to amuse their captors; the Rani's cruel experiments; the Master's warped schemes.
The Lord President is millennia older than him, steeped in cunning and power. Did Adelaide feel like this -- small and insignificant?
He prays for a fraction of her courage, and grips the gun tighter.