The Doctor and Romana made their way through the Citadel arm-in-arm. They walked as a Lord and Lady would; heads high, backs straight. The both of them paid no mind to the stares from passing guards and officiaries; It was apparent that nothing would bother them. For a brief few minutes, neither of them had a care in the world.
"Did they tell you what the summoning was about?" The Doctor asked.
"No." She replied. "They usually let me know far ahead of time."
Romana was worried, this much was clear. As they grew closer to the Panoptican, she made less and less of an effort to mask it.
"You'd think they'd keep their Lady President informed..." The Doctor said, voice panged with worry.
"I'll be sure to give them a pierce of my mind." She responded.
As the two came up to the large doors leading to the Panoptican, they paused. The doors were adorned with the Seal of Rassilon; with long lines darting out from the Seal and curving off into spirals. The ends of each line were capped with Gallifreyan sigils, names of great lords and ladies across Time Lord History. The Doctor and Romana regarded each other with an odd look. It was a perplexing mix of the weariness that weighed down on them and the jovial undercurrent to their relationship. Their arms fell back to their sides, parting and dangling limp in the air.
"Once more on to the breach..." Romana wearily said.
The Doctor nodded, solemnly moving to open the door. Before he could put a hand on it however, the doors swung open on their own. He sighed, shaking his head. Romana confidently strode in before him. The Doctor watched all the faces in the room regard Romana as she entered. There was the expected reverence, he initially thought.
Upon his second glance, The Doctor was perturbed; they all had something different about them, the High Council. Hints of a smirk crept along the face of one of them. One didn't sit up properly as Romana entered. Time Lords were nothing if not slaves to ritual. A sudden lapse in this trend was something to be noted.
The Doctor finally entered the room, having stopped himself from his eternal musings; or at least, temporarily. The room was suitably large, with pillars on the far sides of the room connecting to a sprawling roof. The floor was a crisp marble, dulled by thousands of years of pacing and indecision. In the center of the room, flanked by the high council, was a large ovular table. It seemed to be made of wood, a testament to how long it stood. Mirroring the door outside, Gallifreyan sigils were carved into its surface.
"Lady President." The Lady Cardinal, a stern woman named Syla said, speaking presumably for the entire room. "Are you well?"
Syla gave off the unmistakable aura of "going-through-the-motion-ness", The Doctor thought.
"What I am, Syla," Romana quickly snapped, "is curious as to why you called me here with no given reason." Romana paused, taking a deep breath. "I'd only expect such disregard for protocol if Gallifrey was falling."
Another council member named Karlax; a rather pompous man, even for the Time Lords, sat up in all the pomp and circumstance one would expect from him.
"With respect, Lady President, if Gallifrey was falling, you wouldn't need us to tell you, would you?"
A number of the table snickered as Karlax spoke, Romana's stare pushing him back into his chair. Romana turned back to Syla.
"Well? What is it then?" The Doctor stood respectfully by the door. Romana's eyes darted over to him every now and again. The small exchanges, while wordless, offered both of them the tiniest of comforts.
"The council has been keeping an eye on the war as it has been unfolding. We know it intimately." Syla started.
The Doctor, having actually fought on several fronts of the war, rolled his eyes in annoyance and grunted. He had never seen any of these Time Lords ride into battle, and he was also fairly certain none of them had ever experience live combat. The council ignored him keeping their collective gaze on Syla and Romana.
"As such, we are forced to take... inventory of our current state of affairs." Syla said.
Romana narrows her eyes. "Take inventory?"
Syla sat up, the other councilors mirroring the gesture. "Certain things have become clear. Mainly, Lady President, The Daleks are winning. They are winning and if that is to change, something must be done differently."
Syla motioned to The Doctor as she spoke, as if looking for confirmation. The Doctor gave the council nothing. He stood at attention, outwardly refusing to confirm or deny anything that was being said. Romana appreciated the gesture more than The Doctor could know. Yet on the inside, he knew they were at least partially right. Something needed to be done.
"I am still waiting for your point, Lady Cardinal." Romana said, crossing her arms.
Syla cleared her throat. "The point, Lady President, is that if things do not soon take a more satisfying turn, your position in office will have to be re-considered."
There was a silence in the room. None of the councilors dared to speak up, and both The Doctor and Romana were stunned. This was a bold move, even for them. To compromise the Presidency at such a tumultuous time? To throw reason to the air and waste time and effort re-establishing the authority of a new office? Romana furrowed her brow, considering her words. The Doctor was the one who broke the silence.
"What gives you the right?" He demanded. Karlax answered quickly, snapping back at The Doctor.
"We have every right, Doctor! Unlike you! Your voice falls on deaf ears here." Karlax sneered as he flaunted his authority in The Doctor's face.
"Deaf ears. I have never heard a more apt description of this council." The Doctor countered.
Karlax, in anger, turned to Romana, as if waiting for her to scold the man who had just insulted them. He was met with nothing but a knowing smile on her part. She was quite pleased she had brought The Doctor along. It made the petty bureaucracy so much more entertaining. Karlax fell into silence, simmering angrily in his seat.
"You'd replace me then?" Romana calmly asked.
The council was taken slightly aback. They did not expect a calm response.
"If need be, Lady President. Desperate times." Syla said.
"Desperate times..." Karlax quietly echoed.
"With whom?" Romana asked, probing the council for whatever information she could.
"With whoever we have to, Lady President." Syla said, with a degree of finality that disturbed Romana.
The Doctor too had picked up on this. A vein in his head became more prominent, while Romana wound her fingers together tightly, squeezing for some attempt at relief. Was this foreshadowing on their part? Or just their usual snide remarks? The Doctor considered these questions, running the possibilities through his mind. All courses pointed to the former, worrying him.
"People are dying out there. Not only ours, but millions, perhaps billions. And all the while, instead of focusing on the war, you dedicate pointless time putting together this meeting, neglecting your own duties, tearing me away from mine... and for what? Veiled threats?"
The council did not speak up, keeping their eyes on their feet as if they were children being scolded by a mother.
"Perhaps, it is you who need to change your tactics... Lest I replace you with a council that has bloody BACKBONE!" At that last word, she slammed her fist on the table.
The Doctor could not help but smile.
"Get back to the War. Save some lives. Save all of our lives. I expect updates on all the fronts of the War sent to my desk. If we don't have any info, why? Who was the fool who left a temporal stone unturned? Get that info. Get the full picture. Strategize. Fight back, and stop wasting my time!"
With that, Romana turned away from the High Council, taking angry steps to the door.
The Doctor moved to open the door for her. "Lady President." he said, moving his hand to the door.
Before he could touch it however, the door opened on its own. He sighed.
"Doctor." Romana replied, formally. "Would you kindly escort me out?"
The Doctor nodded, rather vexed that Romana called him that again, but he had no desire to compromise her image in front of the council; especially after what he had just witnessed. He turned back to the High Council, studying them one last time. They said nothing, exchanging nervous glances. From outside, Romana cleared her throat. The Doctor, snapping out of his trance, answered.
"Coming, coming." He left the Panoptican, the door slamming shut behind him.
Romana regarded him. "Shall we head up to the observation deck?"
The Doctor nodded, offering his arm. Romana simply shook her head and turned to move down the hallway. The Doctor frowned, but caught up with her.
"They are losing faith in me." She said, keeping her eyes forward.
"Their expectations of you are entirely too steep, Romana. The Daleks are relentless. Anyone would have trouble facing them. The fact that we're still alive is a testament to your time in office."
The two continued walking, making their way to the door leading up to the observation deck. The Doctor jogged ahead to the door, turning back to Romana. He waited there, watching her catch up. She approached The Doctor, crossing her arms and raising a brow. The Doctor turned back to the door. It stayed shut. There was a moment where neither of them made any movement. This was broken by an exasperated sigh on Romana's part. She stepped up to the door, opened it, and walked right through, shaking her head.
"Hopeless." She said, smiling to herself. The Doctor followed her up the stairs.
"Only most of the time." He responded.