The Pandora Project: Merlin
Aug. 22nd, 2007 08:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carmen_ljThe Pandora Project
Summary: At the end of series three, the Doctor and the Master end up travelling together and totally manage not to destroy each other or the universe. More or less. Meanwhile, Martha gets a job offer from UNIT, Jack fails to realise his team are a bit useless, and there's a giant squid for no good reason whatsoever.
Rating: PG-13, mostly, as far as I can tell for these things.
Index post for the series
10 - Merlin: Swords and queens and magic, and the Doctor and Master end up in the same bed.
Merlin
"So this Excalibur," said the Master, "pretty impressive sword, is it?"
"Oh yes," said Guinevere, taking a delicate sip from her goblet, and smiling delightfully.
The door flew open to reveal the Doctor, brandishing a sword in a rather threatening manner. The Master raised an eyebrow; the Queen looked oddly bemused.
"I assume, Merlin, you have an excellent reason for entering my chambers in such a way," she said.
"Yes," said the Doctor, pointing the sword at the master. "You. Up. Now."
"We were just enjoying-" began the Queen.
"You might have been, but I know his game. Come on."
The Queen drew a long breath, irritated at being interrupted but Merlin was an exception to many of the rules of Court etiquette, and he always had excellent reasons for his actions, though they were not necessarily readily apparent. Arthur trusted him implicitly, and that was enough. "As you will," she said with a slight shrug.
The Master had no intention of being even more humiliated, and the Doctor looked more than willing to do something rather painful with the sword, so he stood up with as much dignity as he could muster and walked past the Doctor, out of the Queen's apartments.
In the corridor, he found himself pressed up against the wall, a very angry Doctor leaning deliciously into his body. The sword had been discarded, and one of the Doctor's arms pressed against his neck instead.
"Well, this is fun," said the Master. "Developed a bit of a sadistic streak, have you?"
"What did I tell you?" demanded the Doctor, voice low and angry.
"Now let me see," said the Master struggling for breath against the pressure of the Doctor's arm, "was it 'gosh, what a big stone dragon head, I wonder what's in its mouth? Ooh, an interdimensional portal. Oh, bugger, it's active. Where are we?'"
"After that."
"'No, I'm not Merlin, these people just think I am because I might be in the future,'" said the Master, sounding distinctly nauseated.
"No," growled the Doctor.
"Oh, right, then I suppose it was the whole whiny speech that went some thing like: whatever you do, do not attempt to steal Excalibur, seduce the Queen or usurp the King."
"Right," said the Doctor, letting the Master go. "So what exactly were you doing in there?"
"Honestly?" said the Master, all innocence.
"Yes," said the Doctor irritably.
"Well, I was enjoying a nice goblet of wine...and trying steal Excalibur, seduce the Queen and usurp the King." He grinned. "Couldn't resist after you'd kindly suggested the plan."
"For Rassilon's sake," said the Doctor. "We've got one more day here. One."
"Yeah," said the Master, "seemed a shame to waste it. Have you seen Excalibur? It looks fantastic. We could hang it in the console room, give the place a bit of atmosphere."
"We are not stealing Excalibur."
"I suppose usurpation's out too?" asked the Master, with the hint of a pout.
"Yes! And leave the Queen alone; she's gonna have enough problems as it is."
The Master scowled. "This isn't Le Morte d'Arthur, Doctor."
"Fine, fine. But leave her alone anyway, because I have little doubt you'd bring her nothing but trouble."
"Right. I see. You get to go skipping down to the lake, prancing around with your floaty fairy woman, and I have to behave like one of these badly-dressed monks." Bad enough that the Doctor had pretty much killed his chances of a good shag, without the added irritation of his hypocrisy.
"I was not prancing. We were discussing the portal spell Vivien's preparing to send us back."
"Oh, whatever, Doctor. If you're going to leave me on my own in a nice castle full of political machinations, then I'm going to make my own fun."
The Doctor eyes narrowed instantly and the Master realised he might have said too much. "What have you done?"
The Master shrugged, bit late for the Doctor to interfere now anyway. "Nothing terrible. I was helping out really. Everyone seems to be growing a little too complacent around here, a little too smug. That's the sort of attitude that leads to the premature downfall of civilisations y'know."
The Doctor grabbed his shoulders, shoved him back against the wall. The Master's head cracked against the stone and he grimaced in pain, but didn't look any less pleased with himself.
"If you've hurt anyone..."
"Of course I have," said the Master shortly. "No-one important though."
He felt the Doctor's fingers digging into his skin, hard enough to bruise. "Everyone is important," he said, voice tight with anger.
"Don't be so sickeningly naive." The Master raised his hands, shoved the Doctor back, away from him, daring him to start a brawl.
"What did you do?" repeated the Doctor, a little softer, a little pleading. Enough to satisfy the Master.
"Well, I was having a bit of a wander around, following your example, as it were, exploring, getting to the know the place, the people, when I noticed one or two unfortunate things that would have horrified any right thinking sentient."
The Doctor closed his eyes briefly, put a hand to his forehead. "And?"
"And I decided that the conditions in the dungeons - and why didn't you tell me about the dungeons earlier? - the conditions were so filthy and unhygienic that the best thing to do would be a little spot of cleaning."
"What...oh the lake, the underground river feeding the lake goes right past...oh, Rassilon, have you started a flood down there?"
"Just a little one."
"What about the people, the guards and prisoners?"
"Well, the guards probably have a spot of concussion since I drugged their food so I could slip in and the floors around here tend to be made of great blocks of stone, and I knew you'd think it was just awful if all those bad people died down there... so I let them out."
The Master noticed an odd tick in the Doctor's jaw, but he managed to say, "We are going to fix this," before grabbing the Master's arm and marching him down the corridor.
-
As it turned out, the citizens of Camelot were more than capable of fixing things themselves. While the City Guard hunted down the escaped prisoners, the Engineer's Guild sent their best to attend to the damage the Master had done to the infrastructure, ably assisted by acolytes of the Laws of Magic.
The Master peered over the parapet, looking down on the chaos and confusion, faintly amused at all the frantic movement he'd created. The Doctor's tap on his shoulder broke him out of his pleasant reverie and he turned round to see a pair of guards towering over them.
"It seems," said the Doctor, "that the King would like a word with us."
They were not taken to the throne room, but to a smaller audience chamber meant for more private meetings. There was a simpler throne here, wooden, and bearing little ornamentation. Arthur, youth rapidly giving way to wisdom, sat there, the Queen at his side.
As they approached the throne, the Doctor noted the slight smile Guinevere gave the Master, and the smirk that was returned. He shot a glare at the Master, who shrugged when he caught his eyes. Three paces before the throne, they stopped, and Arthur nodded in greeting.
"Merlin," he said, "thank you for your time."
"Never a burden, Majesty," said the Doctor.
Arthur gave a faint smile that vanished when he spoke again: "I shall be blunt," he said, "I've several reports of your apprentice there leaving the dungeons shortly before we discovered the damage to the foundations that allowed this devastating flooding to take place"
The Doctor kept his expression neutral, not daring to look at the Master. "Is there anything we can do to help, Majesty?"
"The situation is in hand." Arthur's tone was calm, and the Doctor could not read his expression. "Can you answer for your man?"
The Doctor felt the Master fidget next to him. Nothing to do with guilt, rather he was chafing under the apprentice guise that the Doctor has cast him in on their arrival. Spur of the moment, and he hadn't thought it through. If the King continued in this vain, the Doctor knew it would only be a matter of time before the Master's pride won through. And when the King's trust in Merlin was paramount to the safety of this world, the Doctor couldn't allow him to discover his deceit, however innocent.
Still, the quickest way out of this meant compounding the error, and the Doctor felt a pang of regret as he forced the words out, "Yes, Majesty," he said. "He merely had some concerns regarding the condition of your prisoners and wished to see the situation for himself."
"That is all?"
"Yes," said the Doctor. Arthur stared at him for a long moment and the Doctor met his eyes with a clear gaze.
"Very well," Arthur said, "I hope we may speak again before you depart."
The Doctor recognised the dismissal, gave a short bow and turned around, hoping the Master would have the sense to follow suit. He did; in fact, he was practically bouncing alongside the Doctor, barely managing to disguise his glee. As soon as they were alone, the Doctor yanked him into a small alcove offering a good view of the courtyard below.
"And why are you so happy?" he asked.
"Because, my dear, wonderful Doctor, you just lied to the King to me. King of Albion and all her stars. The great Arthur himself! Your beloved friend and confidante, or will be, whatever, I don't care. You told a great big porkie right to his face, just to save little old me."
The Doctor scowled. "D'you have any idea what would have happened if he found out it was you?"
"Sent to that lovely dungeon of his?"
"Sent to the chopping block more like, never mind the consequences for me, and whatever I'm meant to do come the Battle of Camlann."
"Still no harm, no foul, eh?" said the Master, giving him a cheerful pat on the shoulder. "And I've knocked that complacency out of them. Do them good, nothing like a bit of fear to encourage a productive and co-operative populace."
The Doctor stared at him. "Have you actually studied history ever?" he asked. "No tyranny lasts, none. A population in bondage will always fight to be free."
"Oh, I don't know," said the Master, "I think I did a pretty good job of subduing all those humans, making them all afraid and subservient."
"Yes, and what happened in the end?"
The Master pulled a face. "You went all floaty-light like a great big super-powered Malteser."
"Martha Jones saved the world."
"Right, yeah, that. Sorry, keep forgetting. You've so many human pets I just can't keep track," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "So, ah, since you can't lock me up, what happens now?"
The Doctor slumped down on the sill below the window. "I don't know," he said as the Master joined him. "I..." He risked a look at the Master. "I can't trust you."
His expression was serious, and for a moment the Doctor thought he saw a flash of sympathy in his eyes. "You can," he said. "You can trust me to act in my nature."
"Destruction, chaos, death."
"Only when you give me no other outlet," he replied, frustration seeping into his voice. "I want the same thing I've always wanted."
"Control," said the Doctor flatly.
"You stripped that from me, Doctor."
"I had no choice."
"Of course you did. You could have killed me, turned me over to UNIT, stranded me on a primitive world, anything you liked. But you kept me, just like one of your little humans, going on the same little adventures, being the same little do-gooder and having me tag along. And I've behaved, Doctor. I've been such a good boy, or haven't you noticed?"
"I noticed." The Doctor looked down at his lap, frowning. "You won't let me in. You won't let me help you."
"You've already been inside my head, Doctor," said the Master, anger rising in his voice at the memory of the unwanted incursion.
"To save your life!" The Doctor sighed, leaned back, regarding the Master, the dishevelled hair, his usually impeccable suit crumpled and his expression showing a hint of the tiredness that the Doctor felt. "Has it really been that bad?"
One side of the Master's mouth twitch. "Occasionally," he admitted, "your company has been almost bearable."
The Doctor shifted, his leg brushing against the Master's. "Why did you kiss me?"
The Master shrugged. "Why not? Your latest regeneration's rather pretty."
"Was it just to hurt Martha?" he insisted.
"Who?" The Doctor scowled; the Master relented. "Yes," he said. "But that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it."
The Doctor leaned closer then, bringing his hand up to the Master's chin, tilting it just so and kissing him.
It was soft and gentle and remained so for a scant few seconds before the Master was kissing him back. He brought his hands up to the Doctor's shoulders, regained control by shoving him back, pressing him up against the wall, hands moving to the Doctor's head. His teeth scraped over the Doctor's lips, eliciting a moan, before the Doctor pulled back, slightly flushed.
"This is a little bit public," he said.
"That's very presumptuous of you," retorted the Master. The Doctor smirked, hand trailing over the Master's thigh before coming to rest between his legs.
"Is it really?"
They hurried to the Doctor's bedroom, the Doctor remembering to lock the door before they collapsed on the bed. The Master's mind was close now as he straddled the Doctor, pulling off his jacket and shirt, but this wasn't like before. The Doctor didn't have to force his way in, a path was left open, and he trembled as his thoughts reached to meet the Master's, freely, willingly.
The feeling was electric. The Doctor shuddered at the sensation, the warmth of another's mind, the closeness and intimacy that he'd believed for so long he'd never have again.
He wasn't alone anymore. He wasn't alone and he'd never completely understood what that meant until now.
Afterwards, they lay apart, sheets twisted around them, exhausted and sated. It was the Master who spoke first: "It isn't enough."
"You've got my complete and undivided attention," said the Doctor. "What more do you want?"
The link between them was fading, but the Doctor felt the echo of the Master's thoughts as he seriously considered the question. "I want my freedom."
The Doctor turned on his side, propped his head up on his arm. The Master glanced at him as he lay on his back, a warning look. "I can't let you go wandering the cosmos alone," the Doctor said. "You know I can't."
"Because you need me," said the Master, sing-song.
"Because you'd do nothing but wreak havoc."
"Actually, Doctor, I think you'll find that when left to my own devices and not pestered by you, I look to impose order upon populations suffering under inefficient regimes."
"Or, as it's usually called 'Trying to Take Over the Galaxy.' And what happens when you get bored?"
"Well... "
"Oh, Doctor, come and look and see what I've done, look how impressive I am," he mimicked.
"Shut up."
"You need me," the Doctor said.
"I'm not the lonely little martyr masquerading as a demi-god."
"I'm not the needy little boy wanting praise from the lonely little martyr."
"I said shut up." There was a hint of real anger, but the Master was much too relaxed for it to really set in.
"Make me," said the Doctor lightly.
The Master snorted, but an instant later he had the Doctor beneath him, wrists held in one hand above the Doctor's head, a wicked smile on his face as he caressed the Doctor's face with the other. "Well," he said, "since you asked."
-
The next morning, they slipped out of Camelot without ceremony, and made their way towards the lake.
"The drums," said the Doctor. "They're quieter, aren't they?"
"Don't try snooping around in my head, Doctor. And, yes, a good shag or two will do that for a while."
The Doctor shot him a sidelong glance. "Could have told me earlier."
"And you'd have just taken my word for it?"
He shrugged. "Might have done."
"Oh, please. You can lie to the King, but not to me."
The Doctor looked along the shoreline, blinking at the sharp light reflected off the surface of the lake. Vivien had said midday, something about starlight and equilibrium and a dozen other things that the Doctor didn't have the faintest understanding of. The irony of being addressed as Merlin when he knew nothing of the magics that ruled this world didn't escape him.
"So where's the fairy?" asked the Master.
"If I were you," said the Doctor, "I really wouldn't call her that when she can hear you. She's likely to do something horribly unpleasant to you. How d'you fancy a few centuries as a living statue?"
"Will you take care of me? And dust me and polish me and stroke me lovingly as I languish in my stone prison?"
The Doctor rolled his eyes and resisted responding as he spotted Vivien a little way round the lake, sitting beneath a willow tree.
Vivien was a water fay, caught between this world and another that the Doctor could not know or comprehend, though his Time Lord senses meant that even when she concealed herself as she walked through Albion, he could still see her as a transparent indistinct figure.
She stood as the Doctor and the Master approached, her hair silver and shimmering in the sunlight. Her skin, and eyes, pale, almost white. "Just in time," she said. "We will reach perigee to the sun for this lunar cycle in a few minutes." She looked from the Doctor to the Master. "You're both leaving?"
"Well, yes," said the Doctor, feeling a tremor of worry as Vivien's eyes didn't move from the Master.
"I see," she said, and drew closer to the Doctor. "You will have your reasons, I suppose." She looked over his shoulder to the Master. "Will you allow us a few moments?"
"Don't mind me," said the Master, "I'd rather skip the lovey-dovey chit-chat."
Vivien led the Doctor a little way round the lake, out of the Master's hearing, at least. "He is afflicted," she said.
"I know," said the Doctor quietly.
"It is a terrible thing, buried deep within him. Are you sure you would still recognise him were it gone?"
"He's my responsibility."
"You cannot be held to account for the customs of your people."
The Doctor wasn't sure how she'd known, perhaps he'd told her, he'd told Martha and Jack, after all. Who knew what would happen in his future/her past? It worried him though, to think that he would have a reason to speak of the Master when he came here again. "No, but..." He couldn't do it, he couldn't explain again, not this soon after he'd tasted the memory of the flames so vividly.
She touched his hand, and her flesh was cool against his. "Both of you have lost a part of yourselves."
"That's my fault," the Doctor managed. "It's my fault he's so afraid; that the drums are so loud."
"It is the march of a war god," she said. "For a race so skilled in science, you yield easily to primitive urges."
"Try listening to it for a thousand years," said the Doctor, "try listening to it when there's nothing left at all to drown it out."
"It drives him to madness."
"Yes."
"Dangerous, yet you would stay with him. I have known you as Merlin, but always you have clung to the cloak of Doctor."
"Vivien, I know that I can help him." His eyes pleaded, wanting some reassurance or confirmation that he knew she couldn't give. "I've... he's calmer now, calmer than when we first found each other again."
"We, too, have sleeping dragons in our world." She sounded almost apologetic, said, "Good men and women died in the flood yesterday."
The Doctor screwed his eyes shut, opening them to find nothing had changed. "I'm sorry. I should have paid more attention, should have-"
"I do not blame you, nor would the King. You take burdens upon yourself that are not for you to shoulder."
The Doctor rubbed the back of his head. "I think the Master's said something similar actually."
"It's a vanity of yours, I believe, and an insult to those whose troubles you'd take from them."
The Doctor stared at her. "Vivien, you don't know everything that's happened."
"I know that you are the only two of your kind left," she said. "My kind, too, is passing. There are few of us left in these lands and each year fewer who believe we exist at all."
"I'm sorry."
"I have no need for your sympathy, Doctor. Our time has been long and we have done wonderful and terrible things, but we end, as do all things. I accept this."
"It's different, it's... what I've done..."
"You love him." The Doctor looked at her helplessly, knowing a lie would be pointless. "I have a sister," Vivien continued. "She lives in the cracks of the earth, deep down near the heat of the core where I cannot go. She visits, sometimes, and I am ever pleased to see her. But she is a creature of rage and savagery from a time when the world was consumed in heat and flame. I love her, Doctor, but I do not trust her."
"And if you were the only two left, what then?" asked the Doctor.
Vivien nodded, turned to lead them back to where the Master waited, lobbing pebbles from the shore into the lake.
"Arthur will not be pleased at you just slipping away," she said.
The Doctor shrugged. "It's what I usually do, isn't it?"
"You have always come and gone as you've pleased. With a little help." She reached out her hand as the Master threw another stone, and the thing shattered into sand. "Do not do that again."
The Master pouted. "Spoilsport. Finished your canoodling then?"
Vivien ignored him and raised her hands, and there was a rushing sound in the water below. A small wooden boat, equipped with oars, soared to the surface, the water rolling off it as it rocked gently on the lake. "There," she said. "Your way back is somewhere between the sun and that great oak." She pointed, and the Doctor could make out the tree she meant on the opposite bank. "Row swiftly. The way will not stay open for long."
"Couldn't say that a little less cryptically could you?" asked the Master. The Doctor shoved him forward, and he grumbled as he sat down at the stern of the boat, determinedly ignoring the oars.
Vivien raised one hand to the Doctor's face. "Travel well," she said.
"And you."
He joined the Master in the boat, grabbed the oars and stuck them in the water, began to row. As they retreated from the shore, Vivien raised a hand in farewell, and when the Doctor finally looked away from her, he found the Master staring at him. "Finished making big eyes?" he said.
"Jealous?" asked the Doctor.
"Sickened, actually. And what in Rassilon's name was that nonsense? How exactly are we getting back home?"
"Home?" asked the Doctor, eyebrow quirking. "The TARDIS."
The Master scowled. "I meant the universe of our origin, not your senile old rust bucket."
"Just keep a look out in the water for some sort of portal thingie."
"That a scientific term?"
"Magical, actually."
The Master sighed, leaned over the side of the boat, balancing carefully so as not to risk capsizing the thing or, worse, falling into the water himself. The water was remarkably still, despite their passage, and clear enough that he could see all the way to the bottom: sand and rocks and fish.
And a shiny blue portal thingie.
"Stop," said the Master. "Stop, look there it is." It took a moment for realisation to sink in before he turned to the Doctor, thoroughly irritated. "Are you trying to tell me we have to dive in and swim to the thing?"
"Well, unless you happened to pick up a summoning spell in-between sabotage and attempted treason, I'd say so."
"Why didn't that idiot woman just put it on land or at least above the surface?"
"Because she's a water fay, and this is where her power lies. Now, would you like to go first, or should I?"
The Master considered. "Race you," he said.
"Right." The Doctor slipped off his jacket, waited for the Master to do the same. They stood, precariously balanced, on one side of the boat.
"Ready?" asked the Doctor.
"Quite ready," said the Master and dived in.
The Doctor swore under his breath, feeling a particularly rare form of exhilaration before he followed suit.
He shot through the water and the darker shimmering blue of the way home, just behind the Master, and, a moment later, the portal winked neatly out of existence.
Summary: At the end of series three, the Doctor and the Master end up travelling together and totally manage not to destroy each other or the universe. More or less. Meanwhile, Martha gets a job offer from UNIT, Jack fails to realise his team are a bit useless, and there's a giant squid for no good reason whatsoever.
Rating: PG-13, mostly, as far as I can tell for these things.
Index post for the series
10 - Merlin: Swords and queens and magic, and the Doctor and Master end up in the same bed.
Merlin
"So this Excalibur," said the Master, "pretty impressive sword, is it?"
"Oh yes," said Guinevere, taking a delicate sip from her goblet, and smiling delightfully.
The door flew open to reveal the Doctor, brandishing a sword in a rather threatening manner. The Master raised an eyebrow; the Queen looked oddly bemused.
"I assume, Merlin, you have an excellent reason for entering my chambers in such a way," she said.
"Yes," said the Doctor, pointing the sword at the master. "You. Up. Now."
"We were just enjoying-" began the Queen.
"You might have been, but I know his game. Come on."
The Queen drew a long breath, irritated at being interrupted but Merlin was an exception to many of the rules of Court etiquette, and he always had excellent reasons for his actions, though they were not necessarily readily apparent. Arthur trusted him implicitly, and that was enough. "As you will," she said with a slight shrug.
The Master had no intention of being even more humiliated, and the Doctor looked more than willing to do something rather painful with the sword, so he stood up with as much dignity as he could muster and walked past the Doctor, out of the Queen's apartments.
In the corridor, he found himself pressed up against the wall, a very angry Doctor leaning deliciously into his body. The sword had been discarded, and one of the Doctor's arms pressed against his neck instead.
"Well, this is fun," said the Master. "Developed a bit of a sadistic streak, have you?"
"What did I tell you?" demanded the Doctor, voice low and angry.
"Now let me see," said the Master struggling for breath against the pressure of the Doctor's arm, "was it 'gosh, what a big stone dragon head, I wonder what's in its mouth? Ooh, an interdimensional portal. Oh, bugger, it's active. Where are we?'"
"After that."
"'No, I'm not Merlin, these people just think I am because I might be in the future,'" said the Master, sounding distinctly nauseated.
"No," growled the Doctor.
"Oh, right, then I suppose it was the whole whiny speech that went some thing like: whatever you do, do not attempt to steal Excalibur, seduce the Queen or usurp the King."
"Right," said the Doctor, letting the Master go. "So what exactly were you doing in there?"
"Honestly?" said the Master, all innocence.
"Yes," said the Doctor irritably.
"Well, I was enjoying a nice goblet of wine...and trying steal Excalibur, seduce the Queen and usurp the King." He grinned. "Couldn't resist after you'd kindly suggested the plan."
"For Rassilon's sake," said the Doctor. "We've got one more day here. One."
"Yeah," said the Master, "seemed a shame to waste it. Have you seen Excalibur? It looks fantastic. We could hang it in the console room, give the place a bit of atmosphere."
"We are not stealing Excalibur."
"I suppose usurpation's out too?" asked the Master, with the hint of a pout.
"Yes! And leave the Queen alone; she's gonna have enough problems as it is."
The Master scowled. "This isn't Le Morte d'Arthur, Doctor."
"Fine, fine. But leave her alone anyway, because I have little doubt you'd bring her nothing but trouble."
"Right. I see. You get to go skipping down to the lake, prancing around with your floaty fairy woman, and I have to behave like one of these badly-dressed monks." Bad enough that the Doctor had pretty much killed his chances of a good shag, without the added irritation of his hypocrisy.
"I was not prancing. We were discussing the portal spell Vivien's preparing to send us back."
"Oh, whatever, Doctor. If you're going to leave me on my own in a nice castle full of political machinations, then I'm going to make my own fun."
The Doctor eyes narrowed instantly and the Master realised he might have said too much. "What have you done?"
The Master shrugged, bit late for the Doctor to interfere now anyway. "Nothing terrible. I was helping out really. Everyone seems to be growing a little too complacent around here, a little too smug. That's the sort of attitude that leads to the premature downfall of civilisations y'know."
The Doctor grabbed his shoulders, shoved him back against the wall. The Master's head cracked against the stone and he grimaced in pain, but didn't look any less pleased with himself.
"If you've hurt anyone..."
"Of course I have," said the Master shortly. "No-one important though."
He felt the Doctor's fingers digging into his skin, hard enough to bruise. "Everyone is important," he said, voice tight with anger.
"Don't be so sickeningly naive." The Master raised his hands, shoved the Doctor back, away from him, daring him to start a brawl.
"What did you do?" repeated the Doctor, a little softer, a little pleading. Enough to satisfy the Master.
"Well, I was having a bit of a wander around, following your example, as it were, exploring, getting to the know the place, the people, when I noticed one or two unfortunate things that would have horrified any right thinking sentient."
The Doctor closed his eyes briefly, put a hand to his forehead. "And?"
"And I decided that the conditions in the dungeons - and why didn't you tell me about the dungeons earlier? - the conditions were so filthy and unhygienic that the best thing to do would be a little spot of cleaning."
"What...oh the lake, the underground river feeding the lake goes right past...oh, Rassilon, have you started a flood down there?"
"Just a little one."
"What about the people, the guards and prisoners?"
"Well, the guards probably have a spot of concussion since I drugged their food so I could slip in and the floors around here tend to be made of great blocks of stone, and I knew you'd think it was just awful if all those bad people died down there... so I let them out."
The Master noticed an odd tick in the Doctor's jaw, but he managed to say, "We are going to fix this," before grabbing the Master's arm and marching him down the corridor.
-
As it turned out, the citizens of Camelot were more than capable of fixing things themselves. While the City Guard hunted down the escaped prisoners, the Engineer's Guild sent their best to attend to the damage the Master had done to the infrastructure, ably assisted by acolytes of the Laws of Magic.
The Master peered over the parapet, looking down on the chaos and confusion, faintly amused at all the frantic movement he'd created. The Doctor's tap on his shoulder broke him out of his pleasant reverie and he turned round to see a pair of guards towering over them.
"It seems," said the Doctor, "that the King would like a word with us."
They were not taken to the throne room, but to a smaller audience chamber meant for more private meetings. There was a simpler throne here, wooden, and bearing little ornamentation. Arthur, youth rapidly giving way to wisdom, sat there, the Queen at his side.
As they approached the throne, the Doctor noted the slight smile Guinevere gave the Master, and the smirk that was returned. He shot a glare at the Master, who shrugged when he caught his eyes. Three paces before the throne, they stopped, and Arthur nodded in greeting.
"Merlin," he said, "thank you for your time."
"Never a burden, Majesty," said the Doctor.
Arthur gave a faint smile that vanished when he spoke again: "I shall be blunt," he said, "I've several reports of your apprentice there leaving the dungeons shortly before we discovered the damage to the foundations that allowed this devastating flooding to take place"
The Doctor kept his expression neutral, not daring to look at the Master. "Is there anything we can do to help, Majesty?"
"The situation is in hand." Arthur's tone was calm, and the Doctor could not read his expression. "Can you answer for your man?"
The Doctor felt the Master fidget next to him. Nothing to do with guilt, rather he was chafing under the apprentice guise that the Doctor has cast him in on their arrival. Spur of the moment, and he hadn't thought it through. If the King continued in this vain, the Doctor knew it would only be a matter of time before the Master's pride won through. And when the King's trust in Merlin was paramount to the safety of this world, the Doctor couldn't allow him to discover his deceit, however innocent.
Still, the quickest way out of this meant compounding the error, and the Doctor felt a pang of regret as he forced the words out, "Yes, Majesty," he said. "He merely had some concerns regarding the condition of your prisoners and wished to see the situation for himself."
"That is all?"
"Yes," said the Doctor. Arthur stared at him for a long moment and the Doctor met his eyes with a clear gaze.
"Very well," Arthur said, "I hope we may speak again before you depart."
The Doctor recognised the dismissal, gave a short bow and turned around, hoping the Master would have the sense to follow suit. He did; in fact, he was practically bouncing alongside the Doctor, barely managing to disguise his glee. As soon as they were alone, the Doctor yanked him into a small alcove offering a good view of the courtyard below.
"And why are you so happy?" he asked.
"Because, my dear, wonderful Doctor, you just lied to the King to me. King of Albion and all her stars. The great Arthur himself! Your beloved friend and confidante, or will be, whatever, I don't care. You told a great big porkie right to his face, just to save little old me."
The Doctor scowled. "D'you have any idea what would have happened if he found out it was you?"
"Sent to that lovely dungeon of his?"
"Sent to the chopping block more like, never mind the consequences for me, and whatever I'm meant to do come the Battle of Camlann."
"Still no harm, no foul, eh?" said the Master, giving him a cheerful pat on the shoulder. "And I've knocked that complacency out of them. Do them good, nothing like a bit of fear to encourage a productive and co-operative populace."
The Doctor stared at him. "Have you actually studied history ever?" he asked. "No tyranny lasts, none. A population in bondage will always fight to be free."
"Oh, I don't know," said the Master, "I think I did a pretty good job of subduing all those humans, making them all afraid and subservient."
"Yes, and what happened in the end?"
The Master pulled a face. "You went all floaty-light like a great big super-powered Malteser."
"Martha Jones saved the world."
"Right, yeah, that. Sorry, keep forgetting. You've so many human pets I just can't keep track," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "So, ah, since you can't lock me up, what happens now?"
The Doctor slumped down on the sill below the window. "I don't know," he said as the Master joined him. "I..." He risked a look at the Master. "I can't trust you."
His expression was serious, and for a moment the Doctor thought he saw a flash of sympathy in his eyes. "You can," he said. "You can trust me to act in my nature."
"Destruction, chaos, death."
"Only when you give me no other outlet," he replied, frustration seeping into his voice. "I want the same thing I've always wanted."
"Control," said the Doctor flatly.
"You stripped that from me, Doctor."
"I had no choice."
"Of course you did. You could have killed me, turned me over to UNIT, stranded me on a primitive world, anything you liked. But you kept me, just like one of your little humans, going on the same little adventures, being the same little do-gooder and having me tag along. And I've behaved, Doctor. I've been such a good boy, or haven't you noticed?"
"I noticed." The Doctor looked down at his lap, frowning. "You won't let me in. You won't let me help you."
"You've already been inside my head, Doctor," said the Master, anger rising in his voice at the memory of the unwanted incursion.
"To save your life!" The Doctor sighed, leaned back, regarding the Master, the dishevelled hair, his usually impeccable suit crumpled and his expression showing a hint of the tiredness that the Doctor felt. "Has it really been that bad?"
One side of the Master's mouth twitch. "Occasionally," he admitted, "your company has been almost bearable."
The Doctor shifted, his leg brushing against the Master's. "Why did you kiss me?"
The Master shrugged. "Why not? Your latest regeneration's rather pretty."
"Was it just to hurt Martha?" he insisted.
"Who?" The Doctor scowled; the Master relented. "Yes," he said. "But that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it."
The Doctor leaned closer then, bringing his hand up to the Master's chin, tilting it just so and kissing him.
It was soft and gentle and remained so for a scant few seconds before the Master was kissing him back. He brought his hands up to the Doctor's shoulders, regained control by shoving him back, pressing him up against the wall, hands moving to the Doctor's head. His teeth scraped over the Doctor's lips, eliciting a moan, before the Doctor pulled back, slightly flushed.
"This is a little bit public," he said.
"That's very presumptuous of you," retorted the Master. The Doctor smirked, hand trailing over the Master's thigh before coming to rest between his legs.
"Is it really?"
They hurried to the Doctor's bedroom, the Doctor remembering to lock the door before they collapsed on the bed. The Master's mind was close now as he straddled the Doctor, pulling off his jacket and shirt, but this wasn't like before. The Doctor didn't have to force his way in, a path was left open, and he trembled as his thoughts reached to meet the Master's, freely, willingly.
The feeling was electric. The Doctor shuddered at the sensation, the warmth of another's mind, the closeness and intimacy that he'd believed for so long he'd never have again.
He wasn't alone anymore. He wasn't alone and he'd never completely understood what that meant until now.
Afterwards, they lay apart, sheets twisted around them, exhausted and sated. It was the Master who spoke first: "It isn't enough."
"You've got my complete and undivided attention," said the Doctor. "What more do you want?"
The link between them was fading, but the Doctor felt the echo of the Master's thoughts as he seriously considered the question. "I want my freedom."
The Doctor turned on his side, propped his head up on his arm. The Master glanced at him as he lay on his back, a warning look. "I can't let you go wandering the cosmos alone," the Doctor said. "You know I can't."
"Because you need me," said the Master, sing-song.
"Because you'd do nothing but wreak havoc."
"Actually, Doctor, I think you'll find that when left to my own devices and not pestered by you, I look to impose order upon populations suffering under inefficient regimes."
"Or, as it's usually called 'Trying to Take Over the Galaxy.' And what happens when you get bored?"
"Well... "
"Oh, Doctor, come and look and see what I've done, look how impressive I am," he mimicked.
"Shut up."
"You need me," the Doctor said.
"I'm not the lonely little martyr masquerading as a demi-god."
"I'm not the needy little boy wanting praise from the lonely little martyr."
"I said shut up." There was a hint of real anger, but the Master was much too relaxed for it to really set in.
"Make me," said the Doctor lightly.
The Master snorted, but an instant later he had the Doctor beneath him, wrists held in one hand above the Doctor's head, a wicked smile on his face as he caressed the Doctor's face with the other. "Well," he said, "since you asked."
-
The next morning, they slipped out of Camelot without ceremony, and made their way towards the lake.
"The drums," said the Doctor. "They're quieter, aren't they?"
"Don't try snooping around in my head, Doctor. And, yes, a good shag or two will do that for a while."
The Doctor shot him a sidelong glance. "Could have told me earlier."
"And you'd have just taken my word for it?"
He shrugged. "Might have done."
"Oh, please. You can lie to the King, but not to me."
The Doctor looked along the shoreline, blinking at the sharp light reflected off the surface of the lake. Vivien had said midday, something about starlight and equilibrium and a dozen other things that the Doctor didn't have the faintest understanding of. The irony of being addressed as Merlin when he knew nothing of the magics that ruled this world didn't escape him.
"So where's the fairy?" asked the Master.
"If I were you," said the Doctor, "I really wouldn't call her that when she can hear you. She's likely to do something horribly unpleasant to you. How d'you fancy a few centuries as a living statue?"
"Will you take care of me? And dust me and polish me and stroke me lovingly as I languish in my stone prison?"
The Doctor rolled his eyes and resisted responding as he spotted Vivien a little way round the lake, sitting beneath a willow tree.
Vivien was a water fay, caught between this world and another that the Doctor could not know or comprehend, though his Time Lord senses meant that even when she concealed herself as she walked through Albion, he could still see her as a transparent indistinct figure.
She stood as the Doctor and the Master approached, her hair silver and shimmering in the sunlight. Her skin, and eyes, pale, almost white. "Just in time," she said. "We will reach perigee to the sun for this lunar cycle in a few minutes." She looked from the Doctor to the Master. "You're both leaving?"
"Well, yes," said the Doctor, feeling a tremor of worry as Vivien's eyes didn't move from the Master.
"I see," she said, and drew closer to the Doctor. "You will have your reasons, I suppose." She looked over his shoulder to the Master. "Will you allow us a few moments?"
"Don't mind me," said the Master, "I'd rather skip the lovey-dovey chit-chat."
Vivien led the Doctor a little way round the lake, out of the Master's hearing, at least. "He is afflicted," she said.
"I know," said the Doctor quietly.
"It is a terrible thing, buried deep within him. Are you sure you would still recognise him were it gone?"
"He's my responsibility."
"You cannot be held to account for the customs of your people."
The Doctor wasn't sure how she'd known, perhaps he'd told her, he'd told Martha and Jack, after all. Who knew what would happen in his future/her past? It worried him though, to think that he would have a reason to speak of the Master when he came here again. "No, but..." He couldn't do it, he couldn't explain again, not this soon after he'd tasted the memory of the flames so vividly.
She touched his hand, and her flesh was cool against his. "Both of you have lost a part of yourselves."
"That's my fault," the Doctor managed. "It's my fault he's so afraid; that the drums are so loud."
"It is the march of a war god," she said. "For a race so skilled in science, you yield easily to primitive urges."
"Try listening to it for a thousand years," said the Doctor, "try listening to it when there's nothing left at all to drown it out."
"It drives him to madness."
"Yes."
"Dangerous, yet you would stay with him. I have known you as Merlin, but always you have clung to the cloak of Doctor."
"Vivien, I know that I can help him." His eyes pleaded, wanting some reassurance or confirmation that he knew she couldn't give. "I've... he's calmer now, calmer than when we first found each other again."
"We, too, have sleeping dragons in our world." She sounded almost apologetic, said, "Good men and women died in the flood yesterday."
The Doctor screwed his eyes shut, opening them to find nothing had changed. "I'm sorry. I should have paid more attention, should have-"
"I do not blame you, nor would the King. You take burdens upon yourself that are not for you to shoulder."
The Doctor rubbed the back of his head. "I think the Master's said something similar actually."
"It's a vanity of yours, I believe, and an insult to those whose troubles you'd take from them."
The Doctor stared at her. "Vivien, you don't know everything that's happened."
"I know that you are the only two of your kind left," she said. "My kind, too, is passing. There are few of us left in these lands and each year fewer who believe we exist at all."
"I'm sorry."
"I have no need for your sympathy, Doctor. Our time has been long and we have done wonderful and terrible things, but we end, as do all things. I accept this."
"It's different, it's... what I've done..."
"You love him." The Doctor looked at her helplessly, knowing a lie would be pointless. "I have a sister," Vivien continued. "She lives in the cracks of the earth, deep down near the heat of the core where I cannot go. She visits, sometimes, and I am ever pleased to see her. But she is a creature of rage and savagery from a time when the world was consumed in heat and flame. I love her, Doctor, but I do not trust her."
"And if you were the only two left, what then?" asked the Doctor.
Vivien nodded, turned to lead them back to where the Master waited, lobbing pebbles from the shore into the lake.
"Arthur will not be pleased at you just slipping away," she said.
The Doctor shrugged. "It's what I usually do, isn't it?"
"You have always come and gone as you've pleased. With a little help." She reached out her hand as the Master threw another stone, and the thing shattered into sand. "Do not do that again."
The Master pouted. "Spoilsport. Finished your canoodling then?"
Vivien ignored him and raised her hands, and there was a rushing sound in the water below. A small wooden boat, equipped with oars, soared to the surface, the water rolling off it as it rocked gently on the lake. "There," she said. "Your way back is somewhere between the sun and that great oak." She pointed, and the Doctor could make out the tree she meant on the opposite bank. "Row swiftly. The way will not stay open for long."
"Couldn't say that a little less cryptically could you?" asked the Master. The Doctor shoved him forward, and he grumbled as he sat down at the stern of the boat, determinedly ignoring the oars.
Vivien raised one hand to the Doctor's face. "Travel well," she said.
"And you."
He joined the Master in the boat, grabbed the oars and stuck them in the water, began to row. As they retreated from the shore, Vivien raised a hand in farewell, and when the Doctor finally looked away from her, he found the Master staring at him. "Finished making big eyes?" he said.
"Jealous?" asked the Doctor.
"Sickened, actually. And what in Rassilon's name was that nonsense? How exactly are we getting back home?"
"Home?" asked the Doctor, eyebrow quirking. "The TARDIS."
The Master scowled. "I meant the universe of our origin, not your senile old rust bucket."
"Just keep a look out in the water for some sort of portal thingie."
"That a scientific term?"
"Magical, actually."
The Master sighed, leaned over the side of the boat, balancing carefully so as not to risk capsizing the thing or, worse, falling into the water himself. The water was remarkably still, despite their passage, and clear enough that he could see all the way to the bottom: sand and rocks and fish.
And a shiny blue portal thingie.
"Stop," said the Master. "Stop, look there it is." It took a moment for realisation to sink in before he turned to the Doctor, thoroughly irritated. "Are you trying to tell me we have to dive in and swim to the thing?"
"Well, unless you happened to pick up a summoning spell in-between sabotage and attempted treason, I'd say so."
"Why didn't that idiot woman just put it on land or at least above the surface?"
"Because she's a water fay, and this is where her power lies. Now, would you like to go first, or should I?"
The Master considered. "Race you," he said.
"Right." The Doctor slipped off his jacket, waited for the Master to do the same. They stood, precariously balanced, on one side of the boat.
"Ready?" asked the Doctor.
"Quite ready," said the Master and dived in.
The Doctor swore under his breath, feeling a particularly rare form of exhilaration before he followed suit.
He shot through the water and the darker shimmering blue of the way home, just behind the Master, and, a moment later, the portal winked neatly out of existence.
