Author's Note: Thanks to all the wonderful reviewers for the last chapter - MayFairy, padmay97, mericat, SlytherinPrincess123, Romana-II, klinicallyinsanekoschei, Aietradaea, xxTeam-Masterxx, babybluepineapple, Astra68, Bad Dog No Biscuit, irishartemis, Geraldine, BiggerontheInside95, OhTex, crazychika495, and tree1138.

If you guys keep reviewing like this, I can't help but write faster, it really does spur me along, so thanks again.

Speaking of which, I have another new chapter of "Just One Trip" up as well - I don't seem to be getting very many reviews at all for that one, so I would appreciate it if people could have a look and R & R. Don't you folks like Ten?

Okey doke, here's the next chapter...

CHAPTER TEN

"And I choose her!"

Tejana froze, staring in disbelief at Lord Ivrium's smug face. All at once, an incredible blast of white rage detonated through her mind – rage that wasn't hers. She felt the Master's hands tighten on her in absolute fury.

Dance? He wants you to DANCE! That son-of-a-bitch just signed his own death warrant!

Tejana shivered involuntarily at the menace in his voice, suddenly more frightened by the other Time Lord than by Ivrium and his entire army. It was a long time since she had seen the Master this angry, the implacable, unreasoning darkness swarming through him in an unstoppable tide. If Ivrium's aim had been to provoke him, the foolish human had succeeded only too well in the method he had chosen. In the Gallifreyan language, the words 'dance' and 'sex' were extremely similar, almost interchangeable, depending on the context in which they were used. Indeed, among the young Time Lords in the Academy, asking someone to 'dance' had often been a clear statement of sexual intent. For Ivrium to request her to dance for him, in these clothes, in this environment, in the presence of the man who was her lifemate...by Gallifreyan standards, the insult to both of them was unforgivable.

Koschei, don't! This is exactly what he wants!

She knew she could dance if she had to. She and Tegan Jovanka had once spent three whole weeks confined in the harem quarters of Suleiman the Magnificent, back on Earth in 1542, while the Fifth Doctor and Turlough had assisted the court in unmasking a murderer whose crimes had threatened to bring down the entire Ottoman Empire. Tegan had been furious at the sexist regime, but Tejana had found herself becoming curious about the sequestered lives of the harem women and had passed the time learning as much about them as she could, including many of their erotic dances. The very idea of dancing in that way before Ivrium and his court disgusted her right down to her very core, but if that was what it took to save the Master's life, she was willing to do that and more.

Unfortunately, the decision didn't rest with her. Before she could slam up her mental barriers, the Master had read her thoughts and seen her memories of the harem. The power of his fury was indescribable – Tejana had never felt anything like it before.

If that's what he wants, then that's exactly what he'll get, he snarled, sliding her to the ground and rising to his feet, pushing her firmly behind him.

His eyes fixed on Ivrium with cold hatred, one word slicing through the tense air like a blade. "No."

Confident in his superiority of numbers, Ivrium raised his eyebrows arrogantly. "No? Captain Harkness, you realise that by refusing, you break the laws of hospitality? That is an arrestable offence. This is your last chance – order the woman to dance, or suffer the consequences."

"You can go straight to hell and take your laws of hospitality with you," the Master bit out, tensing in readiness, his laser screwdriver held in his hand. Not for the first time, he reminded Tejana of a black panther, beautiful, graceful and deadly, born and raised to kill. His adamant refusal drew another gasp of astonishment from Ivrium's court, instantly stifled. Impending violence seemed to hang over the room like an invisible thunderstorm. Ivrium's bodyguards leapt to stand in front of their Lord. The pleasure slaves cringed backwards, as if seeking protection from their owners.

Ivrium smiled fiercely, convinced he had the Master exactly where wanted him. "Very well, then, on your head be it. Lordsmen, arrest that man!" he ordered. "And if he resists – kill him."

John Hart stumbled to his feet in a befuddled manner, wavering drunkenly back and forth. "Jus' a minute...no need for trouble..." he protested ineffectually.

Tejana shot him a look of contempt as the Lordsmen began to close in on the Master. So much for an extra gun, she thought bitterly. I knew we couldn't rely on him.

The Master's laser screwdriver began to sing, dealing out death all around them. The first rush of Lordsmen fell together, twitching and writhing to the ground, casualties of their own enthusiasm. Glancing about frantically, Tejana saw the knife the other Time Lord had thrown earlier, still embedded in a beam behind her. Backing up, she leapt high and managed to retrieve it, hefting the hilt until it felt comfortable in her hand. Once, she would never even have contemplated touching such a weapon, let alone using it on another living creature. But that had been before the Time War, before working for Torchwood...and, most of all, before the Master. Without giving a single thought or regret to how much she had changed, or how much of herself she had lost, she went to take her place beside him, ready to fight. Because, for better or for worse, she understood now that, for every person, there were some things that went far beyond the greater good, things that you would do anything to preserve. And for her, that thing was, and now always would be, the Master.

The Lordsmen had apparently learned their initial lesson and had begun using heavy iron shields to deflect the blasts from the screwdriver. Even though they were still sustaining casualties, by skilfully utilising this protection the soldiers were managing to edge closer and closer.

Oh gods, there are too many of them, Tejana thought despairingly. We're not going to make it.

As if to confirm her anxiety, Ivrium shouted, "I advise you to surrender, Captain Harkness. You are surrounded. There is no way out!"

His only answer was a renewed barrage from the laser screwdriver. Captain John Hart gave a loud hiccup and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as he lurched forward to stand next to Ivrium. Standing with their shields held defensively in front of the Lord, the two bodyguards glanced warily back at him. But then, clearly deciding he was too drunk to be any sort of threat, they returned their attention to the escalating fight with the Master. Hart's eyes fixed blearily on the battle. "That's not sh...sh..strickly...true, you know," he slurred, flinging his arm amicably around Ivrium's shoulders. "There ish...one other way."

Ivrium flicked the inebriated man a look of disgust, shrinking distastefully away from his touch. "Indeed, my friend. And what way would that be?"

Hart's eyes glinted, suddenly as hard and as sharp as diamonds. "Me!" he hissed, all pretence of drunkenness falling away. All at once, far too quickly for Ivrium to counter, there was a sharp blade at his throat, his arms brutally restrained in an unbreakable hold behind his back. "Now...my friend...call off the attack!"

Ivrium gave a choked noise of pure horror. His bodyguards spun around, ready to defend him, but it was far, far too late.

"Uh uh uh!" John warned them in a sing-song voice. "Make a move and I'll kill him. A dead boss won't look too good on your resumes, you know."

"What are you doing, Captain?" Ivrium demanded in disbelief. "Are you insane?"

"Well now, that tends to depend on who you ask," Hart grinned. "And I really can't let you go around killing my business partners. It's...well, what can I say?...bad for business! Now, I won't tell you again. Call. Off. The. Attack."

"I am an imperial Lord!" Ivrium retorted with a defiance that was almost childish. "I won't give in to your threats!"

Hart's smile merely widened. "Won't you?" he crooned. Gently, almost lovingly, he slid the knife along the tender flesh of Ivrium's throat, applying just enough pressure to draw a thin red line of blood. "Are you sure?"

Hearing the implacable, emotionless threat in Hart's tone and feeling the warmth of his own blood spreading across his skin, Ivrium's nerve shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Do as he says!" he ordered shrilly, panic threading through his voice. "Stop the attack!"

Immediately, the assault on the two Time Lords ceased. Obeying Ivrium's command, the Lordsmen fell back, forming a thick cordon around the perimeter of the room. The Master glared around at them with undiminished ferocity, bloodlust still written across his face, the anger inside him still screaming for an outlet. Tejana lowered her knife, breathing a sigh of relief that she had not been required to use it.

"Blondie, Princess, over here!" Hart commanded, tightening his grip on Ivrium's arms until the Lord winced in pain.

The Master caught Tejana's hand and drew her close to him, before crossing the room towards their unlikely ally.

"So, what do you have to say now, Princess?" Hart asked. "I know, how about...?" He raised his voice to a mocking feminine falsetto. "...Thanks so much for saving my pretty little ass, John...I'm so sorry I doubted you, John...You were wonderful, John." Then he winked at her suggestively, before adding, "I get that last one a lot, incidentally, especially in bed."

"Why don't we just save all the back-slapping until we actually get out of here?" she retorted tartly, still unwilling to give him any credit, no matter how much he apparently deserved it.

"Oh, there'll be no problem getting out, not while we've got Glamour-Boy with us," Hart returned, pulling Ivrium's head back by his long hair. "Will there, my friend?"

"You'll pay for this!" Ivrium gritted out.

Hart gave a long-suffering sigh. "Oh, puh-leeze! Can none of you people ever think of anything original to say? Seriously, I've heard it all before, it's so boring. 'You're on my list, Hart.' 'You're gonna regret this, Hart.' 'You'll never work in this town again, Hart.' Have I missed any out?"

Ivrium's eyes bulged in impotent affront. "You won't get far. My men will hunt you down like the dogs you are!"

The Master's gaze flicked down to fix on his face, burning a stare at him, raw, unsatisfied rage still skirling within his brown eyes. "Then they had better pray that they don't find us," he said flatly, his voice stretched taut by restraint. "Now let's go."

Hart nodded and jerked Ivrium none-too-gently to his feet. "Right, you heard the man, we're leaving," he announced loudly. "And we're taking this sack of crap with us. Anyone tries to follow us, anyone tries anything stupid, and I will happily slit his throat from ear to ear. Comprende?"

Shoving Ivrium along in front of him, he led the way, followed by Tejana, still brandishing her knife. The Master brought up the rear, covering their retreat with the laser screwdriver. The Lordsmen slowly parted like the Red Sea before them, allowing them safe passage to the door. Amongst the green-garbed men, Tejana saw Silas, the Lordsman from the village, his eyes following her bitterly. He was one of the last to fall back, reluctance at allowing them to escape written in every line of his body. Tejana had made a fool out of him in front of his men and he had not forgotten. A shiver ran across her skin, grateful to escape his probing gaze as they slipped out into the passageway. She had certainly managed to make a lot of enemies in a short time on this planet. It was not something she was used to – making enemies was usually much more the Master's style.

Once outside the room, Hart said, "Bar the door."

With some difficulty, the Master and Tejana worked together to tug the huge, heavy beam into place, effectively securing the double doors into the hall.

"That'll hold 'em for a while," Hart approved in satisfaction. "Come on, let's get to the stables. We're going to need horses to outrun them."

Dragging Ivrium with him, the knife still skimming his hostage's throat, he strode towards a nearby staircase, assuming his companions would follow him. The Master and Tejana exchanged a brief glance and then jogged after him. Whether they liked it or not, right now they needed to trust Hart. After all, by his own actions he was now as much a fugitive as they were. After a few minutes of running, Tejana had to admit she was glad of his leadership. The stronghold was like a rabbit warren, with corridors and passages heading off in every direction. However, following closely behind Hart, they threaded their way unerringly through hallway after stone hallway, always heading further down into the depths of the castle. They encountered few people and Tejana suspected that Hart was intentionally taking them through a little-frequented back route. Those they did meet up with were Hart's own people and they did not seem at all inclined to question him, even with Lord Ivrium held firmly in his grasp.

At last they reached the stables. Barking out commands, Hart ordered his own huge black stallion to be saddled and brought to him, together with two other horses.

"I take it you two can ride?" he asked in an urgent undertone.

"Of course," the Master said. Tejana guessed he had learned to ride long ago, on the Oakdown Estates back on Gallifrey. He flashed an inquiring glance over his shoulder at her. "Ana?"

"Yes," she responded tightly. As a child of the Citadel, she had never had the chance to ride on Gallifrey. But when she had lived on Trion, Turlough had taught her. With a sudden ache in her hearts, she remembered galloping through the long, green meadows with Turlough at her side, the wind streaming her nut-brown tresses behind her, everything in the land so calm and peaceful and beautiful, before the Daleks had come, before the War had started...With a shake of her head, she drew in her breath sharply, fighting back the painful recollection. Gods, where were all these old, long-buried memories coming from?

The stable-hands brought the horses around and Hart ordered them to leave. The stable now empty except for the fugitives, he snatched down several hooded travelling cloaks from some pegs in the wall and tossed one each to the Master and Tejana.

"Best to be as anonymous as possible," he said curtly.

Tejana put hers on immediately, grateful for the concealing, black folds that fell around her body, completely covering her scanty clothing. Putting her foot in the stirrup, she swung herself expertly on to her horse's back. For a brief moment, the white mare skittered and danced, as though testing the ability of her new rider, before surrendering to the confident authority of Tejana's hands on the reins. Beside her, the Master mounted his reddish-brown stallion, a spirited brute with strong, well-formed legs. Tejana sneaked an admiring look at him from the corner of her eye. He looked good on a horse, completely at ease, somehow powerful and commanding.

They both turned to look at Hart, who was still on the ground, his knife held against Ivrium's throat.

"What are you going to do with me?" the terrified noble asked. "Are you planning to take me with you?"

Hart put his head on one side, surveying the man in mocking speculation. "Let's see now...you're very ugly. And you really ought to think about bathing more often, because you really smell – which is something I've actually been meaning to tell you for quite a while now. So, under the circumstances, I think we can probably do without your company."

With that, he picked Ivrium up by the scruff of his neck and the seat of his pants and hurled him bodily into the stable wall. Dazed and bleeding from a cut on his head, the Lord slid weakly to the ground, all his arrogance long gone.

Hart chuckled and slotted his knife securely back into his boot. "Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow."

"Oh, it's going to get sweeter yet," the Master spoke up, his voice as taut as an over-stretched rope, dancing his horse in a circle. Trembling, Ivrium looked up to see the laser screwdriver pointed directly at him.

Tejana's eyes widened with a sting of apprehension. "Koschei, what are you doing?"

"Whoa, Blondie," Hart cautioned. "Much as I sympathise with the urge, it's not a good idea. The Lordsmen already have enough reason to hunt us down, without us adding to it by killing a Keep Lord."

"I see your point," the Master allowed mildly, the screwdriver lowering long enough for Tejana and Hart to relax in relief. "But there's just one problem."

Hart frowned. "What?"

The Master flicked him a look that was as cold as ice. "I don't care."

The screwdriver flashed in his hand, a blaze of yellow energy leaping from the triple tip and arcing towards Ivrium. The lord screamed in agony as it struck him in the chest, a long drawn-out cry of horror ripped from the very roots of his being.

"And, in case you were wondering, this is just to let you know that Ana doesn't dance for anyone except me," the Master snarled ferally, twisting his hand so that the blast intensified, melting Ivrium's flesh, burning every bone in his body to cinders from the inside out. In the end, after it was all over, all that was left was a smoking pile of putrid-smelling ash. "Ever."

Tejana turned her face away and clapped her hand over her mouth, afraid she was about to vomit uncontrollably at the awful sight.

Hart's only reaction was to raise his eyebrows slightly. "Now that had to hurt," he said wryly. "Hope you know what you're doing, Blondie."

As he spoke, he vaulted lightly into his saddle and urged his horse forward. "Let's go."

The Master followed without even a backward glance at the smouldering ruin he had left behind.

Tejana swallowed hard, telling herself that at least Ivrium would never make any poor woman dance for him again. But her hands were shaking as she gathered up her reins and directed her horse towards the exit, her head averted from the chilling and incontrovertible evidence that the Master had not changed and probably never would.