Korvai woke with a gasp he hastily stifled, years of habit kicking in to keep him from disturbing anybody else in his instinctive reactions to his nightmares. He needn't have bothered, though—the experiences they'd shared had left his wife as light a sleeper as he was himself, and with more than a few memories of her own to haunt her sleep.

Veera took Korvai's hand in her own, blinking the last traces of sleep from her wide, dark eyes. "Bad dream?" she asked quietly.

Korvai nodded, gazing back at her for a moment before he trusted himself to speak. "We were back with the Celestial Toymaker," he said eventually. "All those years ago. Only, we didn't escape, this time. And he'd captured Sahna, too, so we were forced to play his sick game."

"It's okay," Veera reassured him. "We made it out, remember? Theta and Patience came after us, but we'd already taken the Toymaker down ourselves. All they had to do was give us the lift back home."

"That's right," Korvai said with a faint smile, remembering. "You always know what to say."

"It's what I have to tell myself now and then, too," Veera replied. "You didn't wake me, you know—I had the same dream. I must have woken myself up just before you. So, yeah, I think I needed to hear it as much as you did."

Korvai squeezed her hand, his eyes on hers. "We're safe, and we're together," he said. "That's what matters."

Veera smiled softly in agreement, returning the comforting pressure.

"Interesting that we had the same dream, though," Korvai said. "Something must have brought it on—some kind of trigger we both saw."

"Who knows," Veera replied. "We've been through so much, it could have been anything."

"Why hello, baby Deca," drawled the slimy tones of the man they thought they'd escaped. Groaning, Korvai rolled onto his side, taking in Veera's dishevelled form. "I've missed you, whilst you slumbered. And I'm afraid now I must scold you. Running away like that? You had me worried sick."

Somehow, Korvai didn't quite think the Celestial Toymaker had experienced the same unsettlement in the stomach as he was currently.

From beside him, he heard his companion utter a stream of profanities that would have gotten her suspended from the academy in the blink of an eye.

"What language!" the Toymaker gasped in mock offence. "And to think I bought the pair of you so many new toys!"

Korvai's blood ran cold. "What toys?"

"Let me show you," the Toymaker replied, seizing them by the arms and ushering them to the other sides of the room. Linen sheets hung over tall structures, falling unnaturally lightly to the ground like American ghosts.

"Now, now, this was going to be a surprise, but now I think we'll have to push these out into the Untempered Schism for your bad behaviour," The Toymaker cooed. "But first, you need to see what I was going to get you. Maybe you'll behave a little better in future." He rounded on Veera. "Well, go on. Pull off the sheets."

As Veera tugged on the end of the first of the sheets, it was as if the world operated in slow motion. Slowly, but surely, the sheets fell away from the items they obscured, and gently folded, and crumpled at their feet, landing with an mellow thud. In their place, they revealed an exquisite glass case, embedded with all kinds of jewels and ornaments.

And nestled inside the case, her eyes gently resting, and her head leaning softly against a silk white pillow, was Sahna.

Several centuries later

"Never. Do that. Again." Patience glared, before lunging forward to gather her former apprentice and her consort in her arms, just as she'd done all those years ago when they'd found them panting and sprinting, without shoes, food and water, on that godforsaken desert planet. "Stars, I've missed you both."

"I haven't," Theta grimaced, leaning against the doorway. "Ignorance is bliss when it comes to those two."

"Not for me. I've learnt to assume the worst,," Patience laughed. She frowned at her former apprentice's lack of reaction. "What, no response?" She swivelled back around, to find the Defier and the Warlock slumped over each other, tenderly embracing, sound asleep.

Theta grinned. "Let's leave these lovebirds alone, shall we?"

"I don't know," Patience smiled, moving towards her husband and snaking a hand around his neck. "I think they've given me some ideas."

The Doctor smiled, pulling his wife closer towards him.

"Veera still blames herself for Sahna," Patience told him sadly.

"How do you know?" The Doctor asked.

"I miss my poor Sahna more than anything," Patience replied. "But she's gone, and she'd want us to move on. And I have. But Veera, even after all these years—" she held back a sob. "She still can't look me in the eye."

Several centuries earlier

"What the hell is wrong with you!" Veera shouted, tears forming in her eyes.

"You're on thin ice, young lady," The Toymaker replied. "How about this. I let you keep one of the toys. Just one. Or," he grinned. "You can play a little game with me. If you win, you keep them all. If I win, they all go into the schism."

Veera and Korvai glanced at each other, before stepping forward, and pulling away the remaining sheets.

Korvai's heart clenched when the first face his eyes fell upon was Joss. A glance to the side showed he wasn't the only one. Julio was there too, and Alleeva. And Jazzlin, Lorzo and Adros. All the proteges of the Deca lay before them, trapped in the same glass cage. There were others, including Romana, trapped in a third cage, and judging from Veera's spellstruck face as she gazed into the third cage, they were known to her.

Korvai felt sick to his stomach, fear and outrage and fury swirling under his skin. "You're asking us to gamble with our friends' lives!"

"Naturally," the Toymaker replied casually. "The highest stakes are always the most fun."

"You'll stand by your terms?" Korvai demanded. "Whatever we decide, you'll honour your agreement?"

The Toymaker's smile was as slick as oil on water, and as dangerous. "I'm a man of my word," he assured the pair. "It's a big decision for you to make, and whatever you decide, I'll honour it. And look! To show you my goodwill, I'll even let you have a few minutes to discuss it, if you'd like."

"Thanks, I don't think," Korvai growled, before Veera caught his arm and shot him a meaningful glance.

"Yes, thank you," she replied to the Toymaker, her voice even. She seemed to have taken his warning to heart—Korvai could see that there was a dangerous calm in her eyes, the calm of someone who had locked their emotions away to deal with the job at hand. Korvai knew that look very well indeed. When Veera could let herself feel again, the pain would likely tear her apart—and he silently resolved to not let her be alone when that happened.

The Toymaker smiled again. "Very well," he said simply. "You have two minutes, no more."

"We have an equal chance of freeing everyone, or damning them all," Veera said slowly, once she and Korvai were alone. "Or we could definitely save someone—but only one person. What kind of choice is that?"

"I wouldn't call it an equal chance," Korvai said quietly. "Not with him, not with what he's done so far. This game, whatever it is, would be rigged. We wouldn't have the faintest chance of getting them all out."

"So we have to decide who to save?" Veera asked, gesturing at the glass cases around them. "One person, out of everyone? Could you make that decision, Korvai? Because I can't, I know I can't!"

Korvai was silent, his eyes fixed on some faraway point.

"And how do you know that he'd let us save them?" Veera continued. "Promise or no, I wouldn't trust this bastard as far as I could throw him!"

"Maybe we don't have to trust him," Korvai murmured, still deep in thought. "Maybe there is a way."

"Like what?" Veera asked. She'd caught the change in Korvai's tone, sensed the faint spark of a plan, and felt her own mood lift slightly in response.

"He knows what this means to us," he said. "He knows we'll be playing to win, and he'll rig the game so that we get thwarted at every turn. But we know it'll be rigged, so we won't play by his rules."

"So… we don't play to win," Veera realised, the same idea dawning on her as it had on Korvai.

"Exactly," he replied. "We play to create chaos. If we upset his system, we'll level the playing field. And then—"

"And then, we actually can beat him," Veera finished. "So, we're decided? We play his game?"

Korvai's eyes were steely. "We play his game. And we win."

"Time's up, baby Deca!" the Toymaker's gleeful voice called. He swept back into the room, the ornate embroidery of his coat whispering as it scratched against the polished floor. "So, what's it going to be?"

"We'll play," Korvai said, his voice cracking on the words as he caught another glimpse of Joss's unnaturally still face out of the corner of his eye.

"What was that?" the Toymaker asked in a coo, his voice sickeningly sweet.

Korvai moistened his dry lips, and repeated himself firmly. "We'll play."

"Oh, excellent," the Toymaker purred. "And here I was, so worried that you were going to disappoint me."

"We wouldn't dream of it," Veera smiled grimly, rising to stand next to Korvai. "How do we play?"

"Wrong question," the Toymaker smirked.

Korvai's eyes narrowed. "How do we win?"

"Better. Well, now, it's a very simple game, everyone gets to play," the Toymaker grinned. "Just a simple rendition of musical chairs. There's just one alteration. He reached up, and waved his hand. A sensor flashed, and a large, ominously shimmering globe appeared around them. "We're going to play in this ElectroGlobe here. A second after the music stops there's a shock, and well, if you haven't found yourself a safe seat—Bzzzzzzzzzip! "

"But you said if we won, they got to go!" Veera yelled. "How does that work, if you're just going to kill them?"

"Not quite, Veera, dear," the Toymaker replied, reaching out to gently stroke her cheek. "I said you got to keep them, and I have no intention of letting you go. But, the shocks won't kill you. They'll just hurt you very, very badly. But, there's a perk. If you wish to keep playing, you may."

"Go to hell," Korvai spat.

"Very well then," the Toykeeper smiled. "Be a dear and pull that green lever on the other side of the room for me, then? That activates the teleport I've got your so-called friends hooked up to."

"Damn. You. To. Hell," Korvai glared. "Fine. We'll play."

"Excellent," the Toymaker smiled.

"Wait, you didn't answer our question," Veera added.

"Who, that's simple," the Toymaker replied. "Be the last two standing. Don't get shocked."

The setup of the game was simple—plain wooden chairs arranged in a ring inside the dome, surrounding the two Time Lords and their petrified comrades. Well, Korvai amended, probably not actually wooden, considering the ease with which the Toymaker conjured them out of nothing, but a similarly non-conductive material nonetheless. That's not important, he thought angrily, shaking his head to clear it of distracting thoughts. What's important is that we survive this.

"Are we ready, children?" the Toymaker asked, a sadistic twinkle in his eyes. "It doesn't really matter, though. Let's start the music!"

The air was filled with the sound of Tchaikovsky's Dance of the Reed Pipes, and Korvai and Veera shared a panicked glance.

"Come on, it's musical chairs!" the Toymaker called. "You're meant to dance to the music, it's no fun when you just stand there!"

Veera, her arms clasped round Romana's prone body as she tried to manoeuvre her commander into a position on a chair, glared daggers at him, but said nothing.

"Oh, alright then, I guess part of this is my fault," he said petulantly, and snapped his fingers. "Better?" he asked, as the frozen Time Lords rose as one and began to pirouette, spinning with a serene, eerie grace. Their faces showed no sign of consciousness even as their bodies performed the disturbing ballet, their minds clearly still switched off. For a moment, Korvai and Veera could only look on at the spectacle in horror.

The Toymaker frowned impatiently. "Well, what's your excuse?" he said sharply. "Get to it!"

Shooting dubious looks at each other, Korvai and Veera started to pick up their feet in a hesitant foxtrot, to an approving nod from the Toymaker, and started moving towards their friends. Marshalling the dancers towards the chairs was a task the pair knew was necessary, but one made infinitely harder by the Toymaker's command. They wouldn't break from their spin for anything short of being physically moved, and started to whirl away once again as soon as they were left to their own devices. However, as frustrating as it was, and as slow, Korvai and Veera soon fell into a rhythm, working in tandem as the delicate music echoed around them. Veera was left guarding the dancers who had already been manhandled to chairs as Korvai made his way towards Julio, the last one still on the floor.

"Hurry, now!" called the Toymaker gleefully. "Else I might just—"

Sensing the danger in his words, Korvai grabbed Julio and pushed her towards a gap in the ring. He sprinted after her, all thoughts of dancing forgotten.

"Do—"

Equally alarmed, Veera swung herself up into one of the last remaining chairs.

"Something—"

Knowing he had milliseconds left, Korvai dived towards the closest empty space and felt his hands close on cold wood, twisting himself into a seated position mid-vault.

"Like—"

Out of the corner of his eye, Korvai saw Julio come within a breath of the ring of chairs—almost touching, but not quite close enough—as in the same moment, Taloro stood, taking a step away from safety to pirouette anew.

"This!"

The music cut out. A deafening static ripped through the air, and the walls flashed white. Black figures silhouetted against the dome's sudden brightness, Taloro and Julio crumpled to the floor.

"Well done, children," the Toymaker said carelessly, once the cries of pain had died away. "But that was just a practice round."

"You didn't shock them?" Korvai asked, incredulous. The screams of his friends had seemed very real.

"Oh, of course I did," the Toymaker replied. "I just won't be so gentlemanly next time. You get one warning, over the course of the game, and that was it."

"Bastard," Korvai hissed.

The Toymaker merely smiled sweetly in response. "Now, let's even up the chairs, shall we?"

With a wave of his hand, the music started again. The chair Taloro had left empty disappeared, as did the one under Veera, sending her crashing to the ground. As she picked herself up off the floor, she saw the dancers rise.

"Keep them in the chairs!" she called to Korvai. "The closer we keep them, the more we can save!"

With a nod, Korvai darted up, herding the dancers closest to him back towards the ring.

"Oh, no," the Toymaker said, frowning darkly. "No, no, no, baby Deca. Those aren't the rules, not by a long shot. You need to leave your chairs, otherwise you're not playing the game properly!"

"See if I care about your rules," Korvai spat, pushing Alleeva, Romana and Adross, into seated positions.

The Toymaker pouted. "Now look what you've done! And after I said only one warning, too—you've made me be overgenerous!" In a blink, his sulky air disappeared, and his voice turned steely cold. "The rules are the rules, baby Deca, and you need to learn that."

The Toymaker clapped his hands sharply, and static cut the air once again. Korvai tensed, expecting the hideous pain of electrocution—but it didn't come. Instead, Alleeva, Romana and Adross were no longer seated upright, but had slumped forwards in their now-glowing chairs, all three bodies smoking faintly.

"You did that," the Toymaker said, fixing Korvai with a look of mock regret. "You can't cheat my game, you know, or there will be consequences."

"No," Korvai whispered. "No, you-you told us they'd be safe!"

"I didn't tell you'd they'd be alive, children," the Celestial Toymaker replied.

"Yes! You did!" Veera shouted.

"Did I? Well, I suppose I must have lied," The Toymaker shrugged. "Or maybe I was telling the truth, and they're still alive. I forbid you from checking, however—or they will be dead. Oh, and one more thing—"

He clicked his fingers, and the fallen Gallifreyans were swept away by some invisible force, their chairs vanishing. He clicked his fingers again, and two more chairs disappeared.

The music began again, and their undead companions resumed their eerie dance.

Korvai and Veera stared at each other in shock. "Does- do we have to choose who—" Veera stuttered.

"Tick tock goes the clock", the Toymaker called.

The music stopped and Once again the wild scramble began, Korvai and Veera wrestling the others into their seats, barely to safety themselves, and watching the agony in the eyes of their dear friends. This continued for several more rounds, the Toymaker taking away a different number of chairs each time. Eventually the Toymaker groaned. "This is getting boring. Oh, I know!" His face lit up in jubilation. "Why dont I add just an extra degree of consciousness…" Suddenly, they were surrounded by a group of very aware and very frightened Time Lords. When the music stopped, Korvai and Veera found themselves unprepared, and had to scramble madly to overtake a legion of frantic allies.

Veera, thankfully, was already very close to where she needed to be. Korvai almost didn't make it.

There was one chair left, and another was about to rest upon it. Ruthlessly, Korvai raised his elbow and plunged it into his rival's side, throwing him away.

"Korvai?" Joss choked, staggering backward. "Why?"

For the first time, the roof lit up, revealing two large digits.

"Ten", the Toymakers voice rang out with glee. "Nine, Eight …"

Joss closed his eyes, clearly aware of what was coming.

"Seven, six"

Only one chair had been taken away this round, so Joss stood alone.

"Five, four"

Korvai sat in his stolen chair, watching helplessly as his dearest friend prepare himself.

"There … Two … ONE!"

The countdown ended, and Joss's body was thrown backwards, his face contorting into a blood-curdling scream.

Korvai couldn't look away. His gaze was pinned to Joss's eyes—accusing, disbelieving, agonized—then horribly blank. Those eyes pierced right to Korvai's core, and he felt guilt settle about his shoulders, weighty as the formal collars of the Time Lords.

I had to, he reminded himself. If we can save even one of them, we have to be alive to do so. And even as his body jerked with the instinctive dry sob he couldn't suppress, a corner of his mind was running through the ruthless calculations. Eight Time Lords were left, including himself and Veera. Six more friends he'd have to watch suffer in agony, if not actually die, for the pair of them to win the game. And worst of all, one of them was-

Sahna. Veera's oldest friend, the daughter of her mentor, and one of the only people she wouldn't hesitate to move the heavens for. It hadn't escaped Korvai's notice that Veera had done as much as she could to protect her friend, taking near-fatal risks to ensure that she wouldn't be stealing a seat from the younger woman. But it was all in vain, Korvai knew, just prolonging the inevitable. Sahna, too, would have to suffer the same fate as the others. And he also knew that if Veera had to do to her what he'd just done to Joss, she wouldn't recover. He liked the girl well enough, and he didn't want to see her go through any of that—but ensuring his and Veera's survival at the expense of Sahna's wouldn't destroy him like he knew it would Veera. Silently, he promised himself that he wouldn't let her go through the agony of causing her friend's suffering. Besides, he already had so much guilt weighing him down, one more soul on his conscience wouldn't change matters. And even if Veera hated him for it, Korvai would prepare to face the consequences. Having her hate him would be far better than letting her hate herself.

The Toymaker's awful game continued, even as Korvai planned scenario after terrible scenario. The sadistic being took a clear delight in watching his captives fight against each other, all friendship and dignity left behind in the mad scramble for survival. There were no friends left, only rivals, Korvai thought, with the sickening realisation of how easy it had become to push his friends out of the way just to get to a chair first. Veera must have felt the same way, because it wasn't long until there were only three players left—the two of them, and, as he knew it would be, Sahna.

They stared in horror as all but one chair dematerialized. Of course, Korvai cursed inwardly. The Celestial Toymaker was hardly going to let them win.

The music recommenced, at a brisker, livelier, less relenting tempo, and the final participants resumed their feverish dance. Korvai glanced around him, searching each inch of the room for some other way of ending the game, some way of preventing what was to come.

The music stopped.

Korvai's body erupted in pain beyond anything he'd ever felt before, every inch of him feeling as though it was being turned inside out, compressing what needed open space and forcing outward that which was kept within. His knees buckled, and moments later he found himself on the cold ground, unsure of how he had gotten there. Spots appeared in his vision, but they came all too slowly, gradually.

He had fallen gracelessly, and through pure chance had landed with his chin propped at an angle so he could see the last remaining chair in the centre of his vision. The tableau in front of him was agonizingly tense, Veera and Sahna both with a hand on the chair, and both in mid-spring—so close and yet so far from its safety. But only one would be able to win.

No, not that, he thought in desperation. Anything but that. But try as he might, his rapidly fading strength made him powerless to look away. He could only watch helplessly, the passing milliseconds slowed to an almost-frozen crawl, as Veera looked at her oldest friend with a tangible sorrow—and for the briefest of moments, Korvai could sense her resolve waver.

But the moment passed in an instant. The last thing Korvai saw before his eyes finally fluttered closed was Veera throwing out a hand, catching Sahna squarely in the chest and propelling the younger woman backwards, as she swung herself into the chair. And as everything faded to black, Korvai's energy utterly spent by the pain overwhelming his body, two sounds washed over him: Sahna's tortured screams, and underneath them, the bitter, heart-rending sobs of the one who caused them.

"And we have a winner!" the Toymaker announced jubilantly, apparently deaf to the quiet weeping that echoed in the silence of the dome. "Darling Veera, Patience 2.0, come forward to claim your prize!"

Veera glared at him with red-rimmed eyes, staying resolutely on her chair.

"Come on, you silly little thing, you've won!" the Toymaker insisted, brandishing the shining trinket he held. "The floor's safe, you can collect your prize—and what a fetching little number it is, too!"

"That's not what you promised," Veera said, her voice raw. "That's not my friends."

The Toymaker looked down at the diadem in his hands, as if noticing it for the first time. "It's not, is it? But then again, to win your friends, I said that you and Korvai had to be the last two standing, and… you weren't. Simple as that."

"You're sick," Veera hissed. "You never had any intention of making this a fair game!"

The Toymaker shrugged fluidly. "I don't make the rules," he said with disinterest, before brightening. "Oh wait—yes, I do! But this was more fun, wasn't it?"

Veera didn't reply. Gingerly, she rose from her chair, and, after making sure it was safe, knelt beside Sahna. She was relieved to find a slow pulse, weak though it was. Unable to look at her surrogate sister for a moment longer, she ran to Korvai's prone body, taking his head in her hands. "How touching," the Toymaker mused, slowly walking to stand behind Veera. "But you did win my game, after all, and winners deserve their prizes."

"I don't care about your prizes," Veera whispered bitterly, staring at Korvai's lifeless face. "Actually, you know what would be a good reward? Just—go away. Leave us alone. If I don't see you for millennia, it will be too soon."

The Toymaker smiled wolfishly as he bent to place the glittering circlet on Veera's head. "Of course, little one," he said softly. "Your wish is my command. Just allow me to bestow upon you your prize, now."

Veera's skin crawled as the tiara's metal clasps combed her scalp. Her head grew heavy, her eyes drooped, and moments later she was slumped over Korvai's chest, deep in slumber.