He had loved her. She was sure of that. Somewhere in those two and a half years, her husband had loved her.
That's what Lucy told herself over and over as she waited to die in prison.
Lucy had been an unhappy child. Her older sister Anne had always overshadowed her, in looks, brains, and talent. Lucy had always been in the back of family portraits, fading into the background like the insignificant thing she was.
But then a man came along. Handsome, charismatic, and he knew all about her. Harold Saxon told her she deserved to be a queen, how could she say no? He enchanted her with stories of Galifrey, the legend of the Time Lords. She had always loved fairy stories, and the ones he told about the planet with red grass were her favorites. They married, he became Prime Minister, and for once Lucy was blissfully happy.
Things weren't always perfect, however. Sometimes he would get this strange look in his eyes and mumble something about the sound of drums. Once she even walked in on him banging his head against the wall while tears ran down his face. He frightened her sometimes, but even then he enthralled her. She was crazy about him.
Then everything changed. The man called the Doctor suddenly appeared. "Doctor who?" Lucy asked, when she first heard him mentioned. To this, her Harry only responded with a maniacal laugh. She didn't ask again.
The days that followed that were a blur. Her sweet and charming husband turned into a madman before her eyes. In a way, she was the queen of the world. But people were dying, the Doctor was a withered and living in a dog house, and Harry began to hit her. It was wrong, so wrong. His fairy stories were true, but they were much more twisted than she could have ever imagined. He had never said anything about war, or metal balls with humans wrapped up inside them. She began to feel like one of those humans; she was trapped inside a cocoon she didn't understand, she had become a monster. She was dying.
The blur came to a screeching halt exactly a year after it began. The moments after it ended however, she would always remember with startling clarity. The Doctor had saved the day, the Master had been defeated. He was the Master then, not Harry. The man who had once been the love of her life was now a monster, a creature more revolting than anything she had seen before. The Doctor knew that. He knew they weren't safe yet. Why wasn't he finishing the job? He was acting like they were safe, but he was still alive. Martha had made the Doctor sound like a hero, but he was talking about keeping the Master as his own pet monster. He was prattling on and on and the gun was just sitting there so pretty, so shiny, so dangerous. Her hand stretched out of it's own accord and clasped the cold metal so cold so shiny so BANG.
The monster trembled and grinned that scary grin she had seen so many times during the blur. He went down and so did the Doctor, for a moment she thought she had gotten him too. When she realized she hadn't, she contemplated killing him too, for he was the same as the Master. The Doctor and the Master were the same in her eyes, both caused so much hurt and pain and both always left death in their wake whether they liked it or not. Suddenly the monster turned back into Harry, and her throat tightened as she was hit with a wave of nausea. The man who had made her feel like a queen was dead, he died alongside the monster.
She didn't remember much after that. Someone led her off the Valiant, she remembered craning her neck to see it disappear behind her. A year ago on that day, Harry had led her towards the magnificent craft. "My queen, behold our palace," he had said, lacing his fingers with hers. "The palace of Lucy and Harold Saxon."
That was years ago. Now Lucy sat in a cold grey cell, waiting to re-commit the crime she was imprisoned for. For the murder of Harold Saxon, the hard-faced woman had said to her as she slipped handcuffs over Lucy's slender wrists. Lucy had almost smiled at the time. You've got it all wrong, she thought. The Master murdered Harold Saxon. I murdered the Master. And I'd do it again if I have to.
She would have to. And she would die in the process, another victim of the Doctor's dark legacy.