I Don't Own Doctor Who! (But I own David Tennant... I keep him tied up in my wardrobe, mwa hahaha)
A/N: The Doctor in this chapter could be almost any Doctor, but most chapters will focus on the adventures of NewWho Doctors, since most of the episodes I've seen revolve around them!
"You weren't there in the final days of the War. You never saw what was born. But if the time lock's broken, then everything is coming through. Not just the Daleks but the Skaro Degradations, the Horde of Travesties, the Nightmare Child, The Could-Have-Been King and his army of Meanwhiles and NeverWeres. The War turned into Hell and that's what you opened... Hell is descending!"
In the burning red skies of Gallifrey, the sounds of battle rang out like sirens. The screams of the Daleks mingled with the screams of the Time Lords, and above it all, the Nightmare Child roared its guttural, feral roar of sheer rage.
But amid all the chaos, a man called the Doctor stood in chains. He stood very still, arms held low from the weight of the manacles which bound him. He did not speak, nor did he move, except when it was absolutely necessary. He glowered at the sight before him.
Before him sat the court of the Could-Have-Been King. And they were laughing.
"Bring him," barked a loud, deep voice, and two hideously misshapen guards dragged the Doctor forward, towards the high, stone throne in the centre of the room. The two NeverWeres forced the Doctor to his knees and leered – though it was hard to tell that was what they were attempting, as their faces were bizarrely twisted, like a nightmarish embodiment of a Picasso painting.
The Doctor could not help but look upon them with pity.
"Why did you grant them form?" He said, sadly surveying their mangled forms.
The Could-Have-Been King smiled. In sharp contrast to the NeverWeres, his face was beautiful, a smooth silver skin, and eyes that were like an oil slick – holding a million different sliding tints. It was only when the King opened his smooth lips, that his evil showed. For his teeth were sharply pointed into lethal sharklike fangs, which dripped with black saliva.
"They were the perfect army," the King boomed, " There are so many wasted lives in this universe – the unborn children; the soldiers who found no peace; the executed and the executioners... There was so much potential in that brilliant, energetic, rage. I only had to harness it."
"Do they get no say in the matter?" The Doctor said, through gritted teeth.
The King chuckled, amusedly. "My dear Doctor – always so ethical. They need no say! They want nothing. They owe me an eternal debt for giving them form-" here the King paused, and ran his eyes over the twisted bodies which held the Doctor "-however... Unpleasant the form may be. They will serve me always, all they require is nourishment. Which is where you come in, Time Lord."
"Why me?"
"The council of Meanwhiles voted." The Could-Have-Been King waved a black–taloned hand towards the rows of pale, translucent courtiers. The Meanwhiles were not so crudely made, but while the NeverWeres held a rugged brute strength, their more elegant counterparts' skin was weak and easily breakable.
A Meanwhile stepped forward to address the Doctor. The Doctor could see his pearly innards through the courtier's translucent skin.
"You have travelled so far, and met so many," the courtier said, " We feed from your War of Time, but even the strongest, most seasoned warriors do not hold the Time Potential that you do. You would give us a feast which would last for generations."
"Thankyou, Growth. You may stand down. Yes Doctor," continued the King "When I look at you, I see such endless potential. You are in the past, the future, the present. Your name burns in the minds of almost every species.
"And when you have earned their hatred, or respect, or love, you depart. Never knowing what came before you, or what came after. Never knowing what would have happened had you not chosen a planet on a whim.
"You care nothing for the Meanwhiles, the NeverWeres, the Could-Have-Beens. But we do. You have become a legend, Time Lord. And from your legend we will feast!"
The Could-Have-Been King stretched out his hands and grasped the Doctors head tightly. The Doctor felt his head begin to ache as the Time which ran in his veins like blood began to boil. It was like the Vortex was pouring through him.
Faces and voices and moments flashed through the Doctor's mind – some he remembered, and some which the Doctor instinctively knew were from a time yet to come. It hurt.
The Doctor screamed.