Of Blood and Battle

By: Jecir

Chapter One: A Question Asked

They came to ask a question. And the answer was the key to life or death. They came, burning across the stars and tearing the seams of reality, leaving bodies and broken souls in their wake. Those who survived could only whisper their testimony in fear and awe, in wonder and despair.

"I shot him," a soldier of the Silence swore. "I did. I saw the bullets hit their mark. He should have died, but he didn't. He just didn't."

"He laughed," another said with equal confusion, equal reverence. "He just laughed when Jax said his name. A simple name, almost…innocent. He laughed. Then he shot him."

"Did you see?" they would say. "Do you know?"

"She burned," a young woman, barely of age, breathed. "Every move she made radiated. It was as if I were looking at a goddess. When she spoke, all of reality cried out in ecstasy or…or agony."

"And when she attacked," survives would recount over mugs of frothing ales and in front of roaring fires, "Wolves howled."

"Did you see him?" the child asked his father. "The last great warrior of earth? Is it true he drove away whole battalions of Sontarans and Daleks?"

The father would never answer his son; how could he? The truth was far too frightening. Yet, his story spread through the universe. The warrior bred of warriors who defended his lover through eons and beyond; who traversed the stars even now in search of what was his.

The Immortal Face of Boe.

The Golden- Haired Bad Wolf.

And The Last Centurion.

Their story became legend in an instant; a legend told in secret whispers by wise elders, hardened soldiers, and mischievous children. In one night, three impossibilities conquered galaxies, and yet…and yet!

"And yet, they are but a mere spark of the fire that was him," Lorna Bucket said to the novices around her. It was forbidden to speak of him, but she could not help it. Once you meet him, you never forget. And she never forgot. "He never rose his fist, never fired a weapon; he never had to. A flash of his smile and a wave of his wand was all he needed, and his enemies would run. But there is nowhere to run when he comes after you."

No, nowhere to run. There was nowhere their enemies could run or hide. Not even the mighty Cyber Empire could withstand the onslaught of the Oncoming Storm.

When faced with the Last Centurion, flanked by the Face of Boe and the Bad Wolf, the Commander of the Twelfth Cyber Legion felt a twinge of terror deep within his metal chest. They stood, the heralds of death, without fear of his armies, and asked one question. One simple question. Back-dropped by the fires of the Cyber Armada burning, Rory Williams, the Last Centurion asked, "Where is my wife!"


"It is time."

Amy felt her heart break at those three simple words. But she would not give Madam Kovarian the satisfaction of seeing her pain. She turned away from the large bay window granting her a look at hopelessness. From her prison, she could see the massive army martialed for a single purpose: to keep her here, away from her husband, her friends, and her Doctor. It was a sight meant to instill within her Scottish heart a sense of futility. They had her trapped. They were taking her baby. And there was nothing she could do about it.

But they were wrong. Like the moment she awoke in the hands of the Silence—a memory she now knew to have been a dream viewed through the eyes of her ganger and yet still so true to her heart—she felt only assurance that she would be rescued. Even now, as she turned to face her daughter, her beautiful Melody, she saw the nervous glances being exchange amidst the soldiers. They knew what was coming. They had heard the rumors. Amy did not hide the smirk that twisted her lips. Her husband was coming.

Melody lay in her crib, innocent to the evil all around her. Amy reached down for her daughter, holding on to the hope that this would not be the final time she did. Memories, or ganger dreams, surfaced as she cuddled her baby, committing her smell, her face, her hair, the sound of her coos, and every other detail to memory. She remembered the pictures in the orphanage; a photo journal of a little girl raised alone only to be sacrificed to the whim of the Silence. She closed her eyes. I won't let that happen to you, she promised. She lowered her daughter so that she could look into her tiny eyes. "Time can be rewritten."

"Two minutes," Madam Kovarian hissed.

Amy glared at the hateful woman. That horrid creature had been the sole witness to the birth of her daughter. Amy hated her all the more for that. The fiery ginger mother purposefully turned her back on the contingent of soldiers sent to take Melody away from her. They would not succeed. She had to have faith that, no matter what, these people would not win.

She looked down at her daughter, a fearful thought trickling through her mind, asking, But what if? What if this is the final time she would see her daughter? What could she say to prepare her newborn for what was to come? She looked up at the sterile white ceiling. "I wish I could tell you that you'll be loved," she confessed. "That you'll be safe and cared for and protected." Now was not the time for sentimentality. Fire burned in her eyes; strength filled her heart; and she looked down at her daughter and declared, "But this isn't a time for lies. What you are going to be, Melody, is very, very brave."

Melody looked up at her with wide blue eyes. Amy smiled, knowing her daughter could hear her. Science be damned; her child understood her. That truth encouraged her to turn to face her enemies. "But not as brave as they'll have to be," she taunted. "Because there's someone coming."

The air thickened with fear. The soldiers shuffled uncomfortably. Madam Kovarian did not react, nor did the Monks standing in the background. "I don't know where he is," Amy continued, knowing she had little time. "Or what he's doing, but trust me. He's on his way. There's a man who's never going to let us down. Not even an army can get in the way."

Madam Kovarian had had enough. A sinister smirk twisted her lips as she strode forward and ripped the child from Amy's arms, ignoring the young mother's sudden plea to "Leave her!"

Two soldiers had to hold Amy back as Madam Kovarian lowered Melody into an open white pod. Amy jerked against their hold. Kovarian, in an insult to grace, allowed Amy a few last moments.

Amy cupped her daughter's tiny hands, trying to impart as much of her warmth as she could should the worst happen. "He's the last of his kind," she said, painting the image of a man who would become the hero of Melody's dreams in the dark future. "He looks young but he's lived for hundreds and hundreds of years. Wherever they take you Melody, however scared you are, I promise you, you will never be alone." Amy bent down and sealed that promise with a kiss. "Because this man is your father. He has a name, but the people of our world know him better as the Last Centurion. And he is leading an army of the bravest, most powerful time travelers this universe has ever known. They are coming to save us."


The two soldiers dragged Amy back, allowing their commander to finish the task.

"You really should not tell stories like that," Kovarian chided as she closed the pod. She turned to her captive, a condescending smile on her face. "It is harmful to a young mind to have false hopes sown so early."

"You won't get away with this," Amy hissed. "You may think you've won, but my husband is coming! He is coming with the Doctor and Rose and Jack, and they will stop you."

Madam Kovarian grinned. "I'm counting on that."

AN: And the story continues. To all my loyal readers returning for this installment, I welcome you. I am really excited for this one. There will be a lot of answers, so get ready. And, if any of you are avid fanartists and feel inspired by this series, by all means, draw away, and then send me the link. I am a sucker for fanart. Well, here we go. Allons-y!