Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of its characters, places, plots...Yeah you get the picture. My first ever Master/Rose fic, never thought I'd write one, but actually I really love writing it!

So this is beginning of the unseen 'year that never was'. What will happen? Is the suspense killing you? No...? Well just read it anyway! DARE YOU!

Chapter 11- The Mistress and Master of Planet Earth

Lights were dimmed in the conference room on the bridge of the Valiant; on the long, oak table were three long, white tapers, their red-orange flames danced in the dusk. At each end of the table sat the new rulers of the world: Rose Saxon and the Master. The two were munching happily on the expensive delicacies that had been laid out for them, passing secret, loving glances between them over the lengthy expanse of wood.

Around the table stood Letitia and Francine Jones, dressed smartly in proper, black and white maid uniforms, trays held in their hands and severe expression on their faces. The Master peered up from his plate to gaze at his wife again for the hundredth time in five minutes."How are you enjoying your dinner my love?" he asked thoughtfully as he watched her lift her head, she put her wine glass to her lips, taking a small, delicate sip of the crimson coloured liquid. She finished her drink, the wine leaving a stark, red stain on her pink lips, she smiled,
"It's lovely." Smiling back he nodded, satisfied with her answer. Turning to Tish and Francine he gave them a cold, hard stare, which the two women duly tried to ignore,
"If only the service was better," he moaned with a sigh, and flicked a pea with his fork at the sour-faced Francine. The little green vegetable bounced off of her shoulder and rolled on the floor stopping just by her foot. The Master laughed out loud at Francine's pained and humiliated expression while his partner sniggered in a most unladylike fashion, gleeful from his obvious joy and the degradation of their enemies.

Tilting his handsome face down to look at the floor the Master stared hard at the crumpled figure of the Doctor; the elderly, wrinkled Time Lord was crouched on the hard wood, eating with his creaky fingers from the little, tin dog bowl he held in his shaking hands, "Are you enjoying your tea down there Doctor?" Only silence answered his question. "I'll take that as a yes." Leaning forward over his empty plate, as if it would make any difference over the large length of the table, he whispered to Rose, "Not very talkative is he?"
"I think we hurt his feelings," Rose answered quickly, her tone carefree with no hint of guilt or sympathy. The Doctor tried to ignore it, still not comprehending how she could have changed so much. With a cruel grin the Master stood up and walked over to his childhood friend's side, the whole room fell silent, everyone's' eyes' were upon the slim figure of the Master, no one could predict his actions, he squatted down beside the Doctor and looked at him with an exaggerated, sorrowful expression.

"Oh poor, poor Doctor," he crooned patronisingly, "Feeling betrayed? Come on eat your porridge." With stubborn eyes the Doctor glared harshly at the other Time Lord, trying to imagine that his gaze could turn the Master into any other Time Lord who would be happy to share his companionship. The Master gave a knowledgeable smirk, he sighed and spoke soft, giving the impression that he truly cared, "Are you worried about little Miss Martha, is that why you're all gloomy?" He asked, his dark eyes scanning over all within the room, he patted the Doctor on the head condescendingly, "Don't worry, we'll find her before long and then she can join our happy, little party hmmmmm?" He suggested, his eyes challenging anyone to disagree with him, all knew if they did they would not survive to argue again. Looking back down at the Doctor, he rolled his eyes as his fellow alien glowered up into his face. With great strength and a display of his impatient and brutal inclination the Master pushed the older man's head down into the bowl until his mouth and nose disappeared into the sloppy mass of oats and milk, "I said EAT!" He ordered, standing once more and heading back towards his spouse, whose brown eyes were focused on the porridge covered face of her former lover. Without a second thought her eyes left the pleading face of the Doctor, and looked at her husband with a bored expression,
"What an improvement." She sipped her drink again as if tired of the whole situation. The Master sat back down at the head of the table and rested his head in his hands like a little child, he gazed entranced at the glowing figure of his wife dressed up to the nines in a crimson, halter-neck dress edged with gold, her long, blonde hair arranged perfectly at the back of her head.

"You look stunning in that dress," he said dreamily. A beautiful shade of pink rose in her cheeks and she flicked her eyes to the floor embarrassedly,
"Thanks," she muttered softly, her eyes meeting his again under powered, lowered lids. Suddenly the pair realised that the whole room was deathly quiet and 6 pairs of eyes were focused on them questioningly, the Master scowled meanly
"What are you looking at?" That seemed to snap the observers from their bewitched coma and instantly all turned back to the tasks required of them, they mumbled something incoherent as they did so.
"I can't hear you!" Called the Master, cupping his hand to his ear.
"Nothing Master," called the three guards and two Jones' women obediently.
"Good! And don't you think Mrs Saxon looks beautiful tonight?" They still used their fake names occasionally, liking the sense that it joined them together in a clear way.
"Yes Master," answered the people again, the tone of their voices broken and submissive, the Master smiled broadly, that was what he liked.
"That's better," the Master said, nodding approvingly as Francine and Tish began to clear away the main course and bring in the desert, soon both he and she were sat behind a large serving of strawberry jelly, Rose smiled satisfied as she took a first bite, her partner had the strangest likes but she loved it.

As she ate the pudding hungrily Rose looked over the wood to the Master and said thankfully,
"This is a lovely dinner party. Reminds me of our second date."
"The first was at that chippy round the corner," the Master recalled fondly. Poking her tongue out between her teeth in her usual, adorable way Rose squeaked,
"Yeah!" And then the two laughed. Long and loud and clear, their giggles rang about the room, brightening the place. It took a few minutes for them both to stop sniggering quietly and even after the noise had died completely their eyes still shone with blinding, humoured illumination.
"Good times," Rose sighed thoughtfully, her mind flicking back to those times when it had been just them, when everything had seemed so much simpler. However she would not swap where they were now for anything.

As she spoke the Master placed his fork down on his empty, white plate and pushed his chair back from the table, slumping back into it uncouthly and wiping his mouth with his napkin,
"I'm stuffed," he said, a satisfied smile on his charming and young face. Soon Rose also dropped her fork onto the bare china and leaned back in her seat, yawning slightly and agreeing with her husband that she too was full and content. Wriggling his eyebrows naughtily, the Master glanced up at the clock on the wall and concluded that time was definitely getting on, "It's getting late, maybe we should go to bed," he suggested, meaning a lot more than it seemed, all he could think about was that they would finally get some time alone; running the world was great, but privacy was hard to come by, and all he wanted was to have his Rose all to himself. Greed had always been his sin. From across the table Rose gave him a sweet yet sexy smile that melted his hearts instantly,
"Maybe you're right," was her innocent answer, but the longing in her voice was evident, it burnt in the Master's ears like hellfire. He approached Rose proudly, offering her his arm helpfully,
"Coming?" he asked desperately, he needed her so much. Slipping her arm through his, locking them together close beside each other, Rose replied with a certain,
"Of course."

Arm in arm the blissful couple retreated from the room, leaving their servants and prisoners to clear up after them. The Master's hand slipped to the small of her back, resting gently on the curve of her spine, where her pale, silky skin was bare and hot, and making the Doctor feel like he was about to heave. How could she let that man anyway near her? Did she have any idea what he was really like? What he had done? Without turning round Harry's voice met the ears of the room's inhabitants,
"And make sure you do a good job with the cleaning! I want it spotless!" Then they vanished from view.

Husband and wife strutted powerfully down a multitude of corridors and passages wrapped in each others arms, savouring the feel of each other's bodies, heading towards their private quarters hidden, for safety reasons, deep within the bowels of the ship. Glancing warily down the corridor the Master pulled a miniscule, silver key from his breast pocket and shoved it impatiently into the lock, the door clicked open, swinging free on its hinges and hand in hand the two walked into their room. The light blinked on automatically and while Rose began her usual before-bed routine the Master locked their door, partially due to his paranoia and partially due to his desperate need for privacy at last. Then he whistled cheerfully, sitting on the edge of their bed and watching his wife brush through her long, golden tresses gracefully. Realising that he was staring at her, Rose turned to him with a questioning glance and a light smile,
"You're happy today."
"The Doctor's my prisoner; the whole planet is under my command; the rockets are being constructed; and I'm sharing it all with you, why should I not be happy?"
"You're a charmer," she purred, stepping closer to him with a wonderful, bewitching glint in her deep, warm eyes. The Master pushed himself up to stand in front of his wife, he looked down at her with a mischievous and suggestive gaze, his eyes full of passion and desire and complete and utter love, his reached his arms down over her shoulders and ran his digits across her naked back,
"I can be more of a charmer if you want," he muttered huskily, as he whispered directly into her ear and then stared at her, arching his eyebrows promiscuously. Stroking his face adoringly with the soft pads of her fingers Rose met his eyes and felt herself falling deep into the recesses of his soul, her arms moved to form an unbroken circle round his neck, making him come even nearer,
"I love seein' ya like this," her voice was full of adoration and honesty.
"And I love being with you." Rolling her eyes Mrs Saxon sighed with faked tiredness, but there was a bright smile stretched across her lips,
"Not again, you..." she was interrupted by the feel of his long, gentle fingers over her lips, stilling her tongue and halting her words. Rose's lips curled up into a grin beneath his palm, she pressed a firm kiss onto his hand which sent a pulse of electricity through his body, he moaned. She loved it when he was being sensual and loving.
"Don't talk," was all he said, his voice dark, raw and throaty, it caused goose-bumps to pop up all over her body, he chuckled but it caught in his throat awkwardly, "I know that's hard, but ssssshhhhh!" And with that he leaned in and snatched up her lips in a hungry and desperate kiss. His fingers tangled in her hair and pulled urgently on her clothes as he backed her towards the bed until her calves collided with the wooden edge, while she fiddled with his tie and jacket hurriedly, flinging them carelessly onto the floor. She brushed her fingers over the thin spattering of hair on his sculpted chest as she nibbled playfully on his ear lobe. Meanwhile he was preoccupied in attacking her lips with continuous, furious kisses and trying to remove her maddening, red dress.

No one disturbed them that night.

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