Four

Clara was unable to leave Berk for over an entire week.

Most of the time, she was splitting between helping to rebuild Berk and keeping the students on-track for their schooling. Mornings were for studies, when they could stay out of the rest of the village's way by remaining in the Great Hall with books salvaged from their homes and the school, and after lunch, they would all filter out and do their part. It was children's work to sift through the cold ashes and find bits of metal to melt down, as was feeding animals and fetching tools from the smith's. As one of the schoolteachers, it was part of Clara's job to help the children and watch over them as they did their temporary chores, just as they had done many times before. There was plenty to sift through, and it took more than a few days before they were allowed to instruct full-time again. Even then, they were still down an instructor, as Danny was still laid up with a fever, his leg having become infected. She visited him most days, though more often than not he was already attempting to sleep off his fever. Once she saw that he was at least alive, she'd go home—one of the buildings in the village that made it completely unscathed, which was a surprising amount considering the chaos—and tried to figure out when was going to be the best time to make her way into the forest once again. It had to be soon enough to warn about the Master and her dragons that were ominously visible just over the northern horizon, but not so soon as to seem like she was shirking and avoiding and being suspicious.

By the time she was able to covertly grab some food and fish and haul herself out into the forest, nine whole days had passed. It was difficult to find evidence of Basil and Idris, for they had hid themselves extremely well. Eventually, she found prints from them both outside of a cave, which she entered cautiously. After turning a bend, an arm grabbed her forcefully and held her against the wall, a knife glinting towards her throat and Basil's eyes appearing with the same cold, emotionless glare as Velda's. Soon as he realized who he had before him, he dropped the knife and stepped back, allowing her room to breathe.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I wasn't sure who was going to find me after this long. What kept you? Dragons?"

"Velda," she replied, holding out her bag. He took it and led her deeper into the cave, where Idris was waiting in a high-ceilinged chamber next to a campfire. "She's looking for you—she knows you're here."

"I was afraid of that," he frowned. He looked at her and his expression softened into worry. "You're alright though, aren't you? The village?"

"I'm fine, but not everyone is." She dumped the basket of fish out next to Idris and the dragon gurgled happily. "Danny nearly got carried off, then was attacked on order of Velda. She's calling herself the Master… does that sound right?"

"That's definitely her," he confirmed. The Doctor sat down and voraciously ate the food that Clara had brought, making it clear he had not been surviving on much since they'd last seen one another. "She thinks that she is the superior being due to controlling the dragons—we both know that she's not."

"I saw the collars," Clara added. "They burn up when the dragon falls, though why the one we found in the cave was still intact is a mystery. Danny killed one and it almost immediately started burning."

"No evidence—sounds like something of Velda's doing," he nodded. He saw that she was drawing herself inward, not paying attention to anything—not even the fire in front of her—in favor of allowing her gaze to slip out of focus. "Clara…?"

She blinked and looked at him. "Huh?"

"What happened? You look like you're about to collapse."

Shutting her eyes, Clara breathed deeply as she tried to steel herself. She could smell the damp cavern, the woody campfire, the fish she brought Idris, and allowed the tears to flow. "Velda's mount bit Danny on the leg, and now it's infected, and if he loses his leg, or even dies, because of this, then that means that I've lost both him and my dad within a month and…!" She couldn't go on and fully began to cry now. She had been so good about keeping things under control that now she was just a bursting dam. Why here and why now? How come she was able to remain composed all throughout the village and now—in front of a Dragon Lord, no less—she was falling apart? Nothing felt as though it made sense anymore and she hated it.

"I'm sorry, if it is any consolation," he offered. "Velda was not always like this, and it churns my stomach to think of her as such." As Clara continued to cry, he looked over at Idris, who almost seemed to shrug in her nonchalance—it was a human matter, and dragons were no good at human matters. He instead sat down on the rock next to her and waited as she continued to sob, letting her release what he had long beforehand. When she was done, she leaned against his shoulder, glad for his presence. His heart skipped a beat at her contact—her being in close proximity as such was one that made something long-dormant resurface, though he attempted to quell it. The last time he was this close to another human being was so long ago, and it was easy for him to surmise that what he felt was merely emotions going haywire as they readjusted. He was now more used to dragon matters than human ones, and he didn't wish to trick himself into thinking otherwise.

"She's returning in five days," she eventually sniffled. "Velda says she'll destroy everything if she finds that we're hiding you. She said she was looking for a fugitive from her justice… that is you, isn't it?"

"Yes—that means she's figured out I'm alive," he confirmed. "There are many things she might want to do with me, and chances are she won't stop until she's killed Idris and dragged me back to the caves of our ancestors. If it's not Berk, then it will be another island, and another, and another, until she's found me."

"Why would she kill Idris?"

"…because as much as it would tickle her fancy to have two mounts, she would not want me to have a means of escape. We're talking about a madwoman here." He looked at Clara's face and could see that she was calculating, piecing things together for herself. "What are you thinking about…?"

"About how I want you to stay in my house during the day," she said. "It's too dangerous out here." He blanched at that—it was almost too good an opportunity for his touch-starved brain to handle.

"Wouldn't that put you in more danger than you're already in?"

"That doesn't matter—what does matter is that you're being hunted, and we need to get you in a place where you're less exposed… less in the open… where I can watch over you better…"

"You think the forest is in the open? This cave?"

"It's a more likely candidate for you to be hiding in than Berk itself, where they hate dragons more than they love life."

"That's a description if there ever was one." He saw that her face was resolute—there was no convincing her otherwise. "Alright—where do you live?"

Clara left him with a map that she drew on a scrap piece of paper that was in her bag. It was detailed enough to show most of the houses in Berk, safely directing him to her own on the edge of the village. They promised to meet again soon, and that when they did, they were going to figure out how to stop Velda and her dragons once and for all.

Later that night, Clara's guests arrived. It was a few hours after twilight faded completely from the sky, putting Berk into complete nightfall. She heard a soft knock at the back door of the house and she opened it, only to see nothing. A moment passed and Idris huffed as she disarmed her chameleon reflex, making both her and Basil visible.

"Get in! Before anyone sees you!" Clara whispered. Once they were both in she shut the door and bolted it—usually only a precaution against enemy dragons, not to protect them. "Well, this is it: home."

"It's… nice…" The Doctor looked around, puzzlement sweeping over his face. He glanced over at Clara to see that she was trying to not laugh. "What…?"

"I've never seen that look before." Her smile faded as she watched him run his hand over the table and wall. "When was the last time you were in someone's house?"

"Never—my sister and I were raised in caves. I never had a house… a home… I've run too far and long to even think the words…"

"Then you're in for an interesting time," she said. She then glanced around, silently acknowledging the tension in the room. They looked at one another, seeing how they seemed so different in the dim light from the fireplace than the campfire in the cave. Being in a house made things so legitimate—yet also so elicit—and the fact weighed on both independently. "So, I, uh, guess you need a tour. This is the ground floor, which is the main living area. Sometimes I have students over if my house survived and the school did not. There's the fire, which I'm allowing to snuff itself out, and there's the table and chairs, the kettle…"

"What's up those stairs?" he wondered. "A loft? I've heard of those."

"I'll show you," she said. Clara led the Doctor and Idris up the stairs, only to reveal that it was her room. The bed was piled with blankets to protect against the cold and the wardrobe was made of durable stone and metal. She watched the Doctor as he looked around, seeing that he was a bit nervous. "This is where you'll be hiding."

He froze at that.

"This is your bedroom," he noted. "There's a bed downstairs."

"That was Dad's—it can be seen if someone barges in unexpectedly," she reasoned. "No… you're staying up here."

"Are you staying downstairs?"

"Are you kidding me? No. That would make someone suspicious if they walked in." She exhaled heavily and gave him a kind smile. "Besides, I don't mind."

"Then I guess I'll take the…" The Doctor looked at the large rug at the foot of the bed, which Idris had already curled up on, going straight to sleep. "…chair."

"I doubt you've slept on a proper bed in ages if you ever have at all; get in," Clara ordered.

"I… I can't."

"Why not?"

"I can't, alright?"

"Stop being so particular—it's a bed… you know… for sleeping… amongst other things…"

"Then what about Danny?"

She blinked in confusion. "What about Danny…?"

"Isn't he your…?" He moved his hands around awkwardly and it clicked for her.

"Danny's my friend… you certainly are rubbish at this." She held out her hands and looked him directly in the eyes. "I've never hidden him in my bedroom before."

Hesitating, the Doctor looked at Clara's hands for a moment before placing his within her grasp. She led him over to the bed and sat him down before going to the other side and climbing in herself. It was cramped enough so that in order for them both to fit, she had to pull him down so that he rested his head on her shoulder.

"How's that?" she asked.

"…oddly comfortable," he admitted. Then, for a moment, silence. "I don't remember the last time I slept in a bed."

"Basil?"

"Hmm…?"

"How long have you been running?"

He paused at that, contemplative. "A long time."

"How long?"

He considered that carefully, attempting to figure out how best to measure such an awful, heartbreaking thing.

"I don't know how old my daughter should be."

Clara propped herself up and looked down at him, curious. "You have a daughter?"

"I had a daughter, and a wife," he admitted, his gaze unfocused and pained. "Velda didn't think they were worthy enough to succeed our titles, and she had her dragons kill them. I had realized too late what was going on, and there they were…" He breathed deeply—his breath warm against her skin—as he remembered that night. "I fought my sister to what I thought was her death. She lived, however, and by the time I had made it back for what was left of my family, they were gone… nothing to even bury."

"How old was your daughter then?" she asked, gently playing with his curls. He hid his face.

"Eight," he replied, "but I lost my sense of time for a while after that. She could be fifteen now, twenty, even twenty-eight… I don't even know how old I am. Seasons blur when you hide in glaciers and caves for weeks and months on-end."

"You can't guess by looking in the mirror?"

"I could, but these years of running and mourning have been rough—I don't know what sort of toll they took on me." She could feel his body relax against hers, as though he had given up. "I don't know if I'm even worth the trouble at this point."

"I like to think I'm a decent judge of character," Clara smirked, "and it seems to me like you're definitely worth the trouble."

She shifted them both in the bed until he was laying on his back while she was straddling his waist. He stared at her in wonder and awe—never did he think he would have a view of someone like this ever again, and for it to be happening… it was nearly too much to process. She placed her hands on his chest and he squirmed—the sensory overload had gotten the best of him. Instead of pulling away, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, allowing him to melt into a kiss instead.

"You act like I'd do anything with the dragon in the room," she teased against his open mouth. She felt his hands finally rest on her hips, the trepidation noticeable in the gentle, shaky way he held her. "It really has been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Getting more involved would only put you in danger," he claimed. "It would risk Berk."

"Then let's leave Berk." She propped herself up on her elbows, holding his face so that he had no choice but to look at her. "We will wait until Velda passes, until Danny's able to teach again, and we'll leave… build a new house on an island she cannot find…"

"…except, she will find us," he said. "Velda will find us and turn the house to ash. She will torture you to death and make me watch, and if we have a child then, she will steal it and raise it to her liking. If there is no child, she will only keep me alive long enough to produce one in someone else, someone of her own choosing and by any means necessary."

"This is your sister you're talking about…"

"Yes, and if she is anything like I remember, then she never had a child of her own—what better way to produce an heir too late than to kidnap a niece or nephew? Why do something your older brother can do instead?" He touched her face and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Even if she doesn't find me here, the only way in which I can live in peace is if I kill her."

"No…"

"…yes…" He brought her head down and pressed their foreheads together. "I lost a family to her already; I'd never recover if it happened again. The only way to prevent it is with her death. I want to…" He sighed and bit his bottom lip. "I want to be with someone again… for that someone to be you… but until I know for certain…"

"I have to go easy on you anyhow," she half-chuckled. Clara touched the Doctor's sides and he wriggled so abruptly he nearly bucked her off the bed. "See? You're just one lanky, twitchy, raw nerve…"

"You're the first person that has touched me in years," he admitted. "Even then, the only other living thing I've really had contact with is Idris… and what would she want with me?"

"More fish and a good lap around the island?"

"Close enough." He tried to keep still as Clara laid down—half on top of him—and settled in for the night.

Morning broke and Clara woke up not being able to move. She laid still as she floated back into consciousness, realizing what it was that kept her immobile: the Doctor, fast asleep half on her, half off the bed. He really didn't fit, the lanky devil, and in order for him to properly utilize her as a pillow, his legs dangled off the edge of the mattress and—from what she could tell—at least one knee was resting on the floor.

"Basil," she whispered, gently smacking his shoulder. "Basil, wake up, you idiot."

"Hmm…?" He propped himself up by his arms and lost balance, fully slipping off the bed and onto the floor. Groaning loudly, he slowly got to his feet, attempting to stretch the odd sleeping position from his body. "Well that's one way to get up." He glanced over at Idris, who hadn't even moved an inch since laying down the night before. "Aren't you helpful?"

Clara was about to snark back in the dragon's defense when a heavy pounding sound against the front door cut her off. Both the Doctor and Idris tensed up and turned their attention in the direction of the noise. Putting her hand on his chest, Clara held the Dragon Lord in place while she quickly weighed her options.

"Stay here," she said quietly before stepping towards the bedroom door. One step from the Doctor and she turned around, pointing at the corner far from the window. "Do as you're told!" He did and she left the room as another round of pounding began.

"Miss Oswald!"

Rushing now, Clara went to the front door and opened it up to find some of her students. The trio seemed very winded and worried, as though they had ran all the way from the docks.

"What is the meaning of this?!" she asked. "Courtney, Maebh, Ruby, explain yourselves."

"Miss, it's Mister Pink!" Courtney breathed. "He's—!"

Clara didn't need to hear any more in order to start running herself, heading straight for the great hall that was set in the cliffside. Its position of being one of the least-burnable buildings on the island made it a perfect place for the infirmary, which was where Danny was being kept for the time being. She ran directly in, rushing through the eating area filled with people just waking up and into the rough-hewn corridors where the sick and injured were kept. Not caring about any sort of protocol, she barged into Danny's alcove and gasped.

There he was, being helped from the bed into a chair so that the linens could be changed. His bed was full of blood and his leg…

…his right leg beneath the knee was all gone.

"Clara," he winced. "Damn it… I told those kids to leave you alone…"

"When did this happen?" she asked, ignoring his irritation. "Answer me."

"My leg got too infected and they cut it off overnight," he admitted. He rubbed his left knee and scowled, knowing there was now not much remaining of that limb. "This is going to hurt when the medicine wears off."

"Oh Danny," Clara sighed, her heart breaking for him. They knew plenty of people who had lost limbs to dragon attacks over the years, yet somehow… this felt leagues worse than anything.

"At least I know it's not the end," he shrugged. It didn't convince her though—he prided himself on his fitness and ability to maneuver effortlessly through training programs. He would still be mobile after this, but not to the degree he once was. "Not that I don't want you here, but I think I need to be alone for a bit. You know? Just… erm…"

"Yes, of course," she nodded. "I'll come back later, alright? Think if there's anything you need me to get."

"Thank you." She could see the far-off look in his eyes—the eyes of a man who was now broken body and spirit—and she knew what she had to do. "Make sure the students do their drills—they have to be ready."

"Of course," she said before leaving. Clara went back into the main of the great hall and was able to gather up some food to take back with her to her house. No one bothered her as she did so; it was well-known that Danny was her good friend, and to have that happen to such a friend… those who did not know better could have mistaken her for almost being in mourning.

It did not take long for Clara to make it home, as everyone in her path avoided her and what was her quickly-building wrath. She slammed the door shut behind her and put the food down on the table, seething beyond compare. Basil and Idris popped their heads down the stairs to see their hostess's ire.

"Velda is going to be more than sorry she messed with Berk," she snarled. "I am going to make her pay."