Secrecy promises a degree of containment when one is terminally ill. It spares the family the words that will break their hearts until a sallowing face reveals the truth. But secrecy offers the patient no such comfort when he is young, particularly when he suspects he is being slowly and methodically poisoned.

Jason poked his head around the doorway into the learning hall. His beautiful Sophia sat quietly waiting for him, meditating upon his father's gardens and grain fields through the small-paned windows.

They had only recently grown close. His undisclosed weakness was making it increasingly difficult to ride and he had ended up face down in a ditch. She had jumped off her horse to help him, demure, self-contained, considerate in every way, and disciplined as one tends to be when one grows up with horses. Horses on the whole are much better behaved than human beings.

"You should be studying," he remarked with a grin as he approached.

"I'm thinking. I have to chew the facts up to keep them in."

"Are you saying my father's curriculum is indigestible?"

She smiled. "If I can keep it down until the exam tomorrow, I'll be happy."

Jason sat down at the adjacent desk and raised its screen. It scanned him and replied silently with shining glyphs.

"Welcome, Jason, son of Avram. What do you wish to study?"

Sophia leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek and turned back to her own display.

Jason's eyes struggled to focus. They were noticeably worse. Perhaps it was time to share his suspicion. In the wan glow of the screen, his failing vision teared up and the words, "Sophia, I think I'm being poisoned," formed on his tongue. Then he remembered that palace walls have ears, especially in the learning hall.

"Well, look at you two."

Avram entered the hall, and beamed at his unexpected discovery.

"You do realise that study is no cover for a tryst when the hall is otherwise empty? In fact, I'd call it a dead giveaway."

Sophia smiled again. Jason laughed but she noticed he wiped his eyes with his fingers before he turned to face his father.

Avram wore his regal robe, a midnight blue bordered thickly and tasseled with shimmering gold. Its glory flowed naturally from the traditional gold markings on his forehead and under his eyes. He stretched out his arms and turned on the spot.

"What do you think?

"Sir, I think you are the wisest and most loving king who ever lived," answered Jason, with his head bowed. Avram lowered his arms and tilted his head. He said softly,

"That may be, but in teaching I have learned much from you all. Every heart is a different book, opened only to the discerning eye…"

Jason lifted his gaze to his father's eyes. It quickly shifted to the almond-shaped eye painted in gold across Avram's forehead. He placed his hand on Jason's shoulder and added,

"...or by great trial.

Tomorrow is your big day, young lord and lady. My prayers are that you will attain to the Golden Age. However, I am quite confident that I have not had my garments prepared in vain."

Avram, though he was their king, bowed to the seated youths, then withdrew, whistling something ancient and joyous, much like himself. He didn't really need the robes. He was always shining on the inside somehow, no matter what the occasion.

But so much for tomorrow. Jason remembered the grave words he must share today. He lifted Sophia's hand and put a finger to his lips. With her ready quill he inscribed her wrist with,

"Sophia, I think I'm being poisoned…"

She looked at him in disbelief. So he added,

"…by my brothers."

.

.

A millennium later, something else whistled through the air of the planet Protos, but the occasion was not a joyous one. The Doctor was alone at the helm of a capsule which, he was discovering, did not even possess the one redeeming feature for which he had bought it.

He was wearing a helmet and peering awkwardly through radiation goggles designed for an entirely different-shaped species, gripping the shuddering joystick with one hand and yelling into the understated wristwatch on the other.

"Cla-ra! Can you … hear me? I don't think this piece of junk is going to hold up. It sounds like it's going to fall apart … before I enter the atmosphere!"

At home in her kitchen, Clara's hands were also busy, concealed in oven mitts. She replied through the mic of an odd-looking headset obviously cobbled together in a hurry by the Doctor.

"Doctor, didn't you tell me it was supposed to fall apart? Wasn't that the plan?"

The so-called "capsule" was in fact the most nonchalant-looking piece of space junk the Doctor had been able to find in the floating salvage yard of one Hatfoot of the Velvet Underbelly, a man who was suspected to provide "many helpful services" to desperate beings.

The plan was to evade detection by the legendary protectors of the planet Protos, or in other words, to land without being shot at, blown up or arrested. Burning up on entry was the perfect cover, but it was becoming apparent that this piece of junk really was a piece of junk.

"Can't you teleport out of there or something?"

"I could, but then I'd be detected. It's the same reason I couldn't bring the TARDIS."

"What will you do?"

"I'll just have to jump a bit early."

"Was this really worth it, Doctor?"

"Well, Protos is on my bucket list. You know I can't resist a mystery." There was a loud bang, and the sound of rushing flames. "Feeling … pretty … stupid … now."

By now, Clara was in a panic, staring out the window into the night sky of the wrong planet as if she might catch a glimpse of the Doctor's very own shooting star.

The Doctor managed to say, "Can't … speak … any more. Activating … dive suit."

And then the line went dead.

Clara wrapped her arms around herself and sat down. What else was there to do?The Doctor had explained everything, and giving Clara a running commentary on every possible moment of this excursion was the only condition upon which she would agree to stay behind. Now she almost wished she hadn't heard anything.

Though she didn't know his entire history, this recklessness seemed a little out of character, even for the Doctor. She sensed there might be something on the horizon which only he could see.