Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who; never have never will. Life sucks.
He remained quiet. Quiet, so that neither of them would hear him and remember him; bring him into everything. He wanted to stay hidden away forever, in the comfort of his room. However, even the four walls surrounding him didn't seem like sufficient protection anymore, not from either of them. At one time this would've been where he felt most at home, most safe, but times had changed; his whole world had changed.
In front of him on the shiny wooden floor of his bedroom was a twisted web of glass tubes, rubber pipes, thermal beakers and phials of coloured liquids. The complexity of this kit was way beyond the knowledge of many a species but he knew how to use it. He knew that if he mixed the blue solution with a small piece of dull yellow rock he could produce something akin to gold. He also knew which phials should not be put together after years of experimenting and learning.
The shouting was getting louder, he could hear the harsh voices and the vile words thrown haphazardly about, each of which sent shivers down his spine and made his hearts beat just a little faster. Words were the foundations of his upbringing, the very pillar of his race but these words, the words exchanged between a Lord and a Lady, were too vulgar, too raw and degrading that they made him want to cover his ears and shrink away into nothingness.
Looking out of the window he saw that the two suns of Gallifrey had set and that the sky had turned a hazy burnt orange, the colour so intense that he could not stare at it for too long at a time. Hanging gracefully in the reddish atmosphere was a copper coloured orb that glowed brightly, its light gained from the twin suns; the moon was out.
Footsteps echoed noisily outside the door and he knew they had come for him; they'd come to draw him into their argument. He braced himself, willing his entire being to somehow master the basics of self-teleportation and for every single tiny atom of his body to appear somewhere else; anywhere but this room.
He longed to wake up and find he was lying in his favourite field by the mountains, blades of crimson grass waving gently around him in the cool breeze. Their feather-light touches tickling his skin and stroking his face much in the way that a mother would stroke her beloved child.
He wanted to see the silvery trees that lined the forestland, so beautiful and entrancing that many a wanderer had found themselves trapped for many a day, enraptured by the sheer mesmerising nature.
He wanted to be there, not here, as the heavy wooden door explodes inwards with the force of a hurricane, practically ripped off its hinges. Whilst the man strides into the room, a dark moustache gracing his upper lip and his black hair swept back in a sleek fashion, a blazing look in his chilly blue eyes. He holds himself well, tall and upright, extending his height until he looks impossibly huge; lips set in a thin line of displeasure.
Behind him a woman who is just as imposing stalks inside, her own rose coloured lips pursed with distaste. She has curly blonde locks that look so perfect that they should be fake and dark lashes that circle and enhance her cerulean irises.
Both stare at him with varying looks of excitement akin to the expression a hawk must nurse before it strikes down its unsuspecting prey. He knows what's coming, he can feel it in his bones and his hearts begin to up their already frantic rhythm.
"Boy," the man practically spits, "Your mother and I are having a difficult dispute. It is about you."
He knew how this went. He knew this would end with pain.
"Yes, darling," the woman smiled, displaying an unnaturally white set of teeth, her face as calculating as a snake; "We need your opinion on the matter of whether to send you to the Academy."
"I believe that you should not go and that you should move straight into an apprenticeship in the Citadel whereas she believes that following that route you are more likely to be cast as an Outsider and the safer, nobler option would be the Academy. What is your decision?" the man said.
This particular choice had been a long time coming and the couple had been arguing for weeks, he had heard it all. However, he knew the drill; he would have to answer on the spot, make a snap decision that would influence the rest of his life both career wise and in his relationships with both his parents. Choose one option and he would please one but enrage the other and vice versa; whichever he chose he was sure too lose.
That was how life worked in this family, you had to be a quick thinker and go with your instincts, there was no time to worry about whether the decision you made was right or wrong. It was all based on initial reactions. For example, at the age of three he'd been asked if he would rather live in the Citadel or in the mountains. At that age he'd thought the mountains sounded interesting so that is where they went and he'd been in his mother's favour since. Furthermore, two years later he'd been questioned on whether he wanted to live with his mother's relatives in another settlement for four years, he'd refused and his father had been pleased.
The child, seven and a half years old, looked from one parent to another weighing up the options as fast as he could in his head. His brain was working overtime, whizzing through all the outcomes and possibilities. He worked out which parent he favoured most and the pros and cons of their relationship with him. To be honest neither had ever been a hands-on guardian and neither had outwardly shown love to him. It was a difficult choice but necessary nonetheless.
"I would like to attend the Academy," the boy stated bravely, puffing out his small chest in an effort to look stronger. His mother smiled, her reptilian smile, and turned from the room; she had won this contest.
"So be it," his father growled, that low menacing sound that meant that he was in for a beating. The man lifted his flowing cloak and removed the belt that was shrouded beneath it. He moved forwards, the leather garment held ominously in his hand.
The child shrunk away, avoiding trampling his chemistry set, and moved backwards till he was halted by the wall.
"Don't be a coward about it, boy," the father ordered bringing the makeshift weapon down. His son let out a yelp of pain, tears leaping to his eyes. "You should be used to it by now." He brought the belt down twice more as the youngster writhed in agony.
"Stop, Father," the commanding voice startled them both and the child forced his leaking eyelids open. Standing in the doorway stood a youth, a boy on the cusp of adulthood, yet he possessed maturity beyond his years, an aurora of wisdom and intelligence was almost visible around his sharp form.
"Theta?"
"It's the Doctor to you now, Lord Sigma. I am a fully fledged Time Lord," the figure claimed without a hint of smugness in his voice despite the significance of his words.
"You graduated?" the older man replied not even bothering to hide the astonishment in his words.
"Didn't think I would, did you, Father? Thought I was a lost cause, a loose cannon, the black sheep of this already highly dysfunctional family. Well you were wrong, actually I suppose you weren't wrong about the loose cannon bit as my professors would tell you I'm still unpredictable, but other than that, I succeeded."
"But what are you doing back here?"
"I have come to stop you doing exactly what you are doing right now; hurting my brother. If there's one thing the Academy has taught me its that violence is not the answer and although throughout my childhood I thought you were only doing what was correct in this society I was wrong. That's why I've come to save Kiefer."
"Theta Sigma, you are not permitted to overrule a Lord's wishes. You may be a Time Lord but you are not yet a Lord of Time Lords. The boy stays with me and your mother. He too will be sent to the Academy." Lord Sigma grabbed Kiefer's skinny wrist and shot him a fierce quelling look.
"So be it," the Doctor nodded, a disappointed expression on his face, as he quoted his father's words from earlier unaware. With that, he turned on his heel, his own billowing cloak spiralling out behind him and left.
Kiefer stared desperately after him, willing his strong, brave brother to return. He did not. The boy should've known there was nothing his teenage brother could've done to overpower their father, he was too mighty.
"I must find your mother," Lord Sigma looked down at his son, the shock of his eldest son's return wearing off. He released Kiefer none-too-gently, practically pushing the youngster to the ground before sweeping out of the room.
The boy was left in a trembling wreck in the middle of the floor, his world having been turned upside-down one too many times. However, as he sat there quivering uncontrollably a strange sound surrounded him, something similar to an engine working, all the cogs grating together…
And then the room changed and he was in a completely foreign place with his brother standing over him protectively, a triumphant expression on his face.
"Wasn't that genius?"
Did you think that the little boy was the Doctor? Tricked you. Any comments will be welcome, criticising or praising.