As always, big big thank you to my der beta NoPondInTheForest and to you guys for your reviews and follows and favourites! In this chapter I've had no choice but to mention certain nasty objects... Reading about them and what they were used for was creepy enough, that's why I've merely enumerated them in this chapter. No need to panic!


The Earl of Oxford proved to be fascinating beyond imagination. Not only did he turn out to know a thing or two about aliens, but as fate would have it, he also went way back with Queen Elizabeth I and had a troubled relationship with her.

Edward de Vere – or Edward 'the Bard', as the Eleventh Doctor was insisting on calling him –, had been a child prodigy raised into one of the most distinguished families in the country, and his tutors had included some of the most remarkable men of the time. His knowledge of Latin, Greek, French, Italian, literature, astronomy, geography, the law, and the natural world – among many other subjects – was thus unique. He had already been writing plays at the age of eight, and by the time he was sixteen, he had already got hold of degrees from the universities of Oxford and Cambridge. His literary ambitions, however, started to plunge after the death of his father – when, stripped of his home and his lands, Edward had no choice but to settle in the household of William Cecil, and later on, to marry his daughter Anne. He had not even been married for a fortnight when his dreams of writing and staging and living by his pen inevitably plummeted to earth. Literature – his wife and his father-in-law would remind him on a daily basis – was no occupation for a nobleman. And still, far from being ashamed of his artistic inclinations, Edward could never think of any objections as to their being a gentleman's passion if they were never going to become his profession. And so, he carried on writing.

Owing to the strong bond of friendship and trust shared by Queen Elizabeth I and William Cecil, Edward and Anne soon became courtiers, and owing to the Queen's passion for the theatre, Edward saw many of his plays staged at court for a merry short while, much to his in-laws' disapproval. The Queen and the Earl seemed to enjoy each other's company as much as she seemed to enjoy his plays. Soon thus he became her favourite and, in Edward's own words, rumourmongers did the rest.

At that point, however, something happened – something involving Edward and one of the Queen's ladies-in-waiting, and something painful enough for him not to want to tell the Doctors or Jack or Clara about it. The outcome of such mysterious event, he dejectedly told them, was his banishment from court.

In time, Edward regained the Queen's favour, but he never came back to court. During his long years of absence, he found the place where he was destined to spend his leisure time from then on – The Globe –, and the company he willingly chose to keep for his future – that of actors and other playwrights. Unfortunately, however, court would not forget him, and for years and years to come, the Cecils did everything in their power to prevent his name from being associated to his plays, just because the truth about the lives of kings and queens in his stories of ambition and conflict happened to be an uncomfortable one. As a consequence, as he would by no means give up in his attempts to have his plays printed and staged, Edward had no choice but to seek help from amongst his friends at the playhouse. That was how a William Shakespeare found him, and how he became a ghost writer.

It was also after his banishment from court that his interest in aliens raised, and as he gave the time travellers long and detailed accounts of the many studies he had conducted on Zygons, in the end, there was no room for doubt. It was not only in literature that Edward de Vere was ahead of his time.

"And these rooms here, sirs," Edward said as he led Jack, Clara and the Doctors into a tunnel in the basement of the Tower of London, "this is where their headquarters used to be."

The Eleventh Doctor and Clara recognised the dark chamber immediately as they had been there not long before. It was the Zygons' lair, the place where they had put their technology to use with the aim of teleporting into the paintings that would later be exhibited in the National Gallery. Just by placing a hand on a powerful glass-like sphere, the creatures had been transferred from reality to a painting, which they had called 'stasis cube'. Once inside it, they waited for centuries and centuries in order to fulfil their plan of conquering the Earth – and had eventually been stopped.

The Doctors' eyes roamed around the place in search of some kind of evidence that would indicate the Zygons were still using that room for their own purposes these days, but they couldn't find any.

"This place must have been abandoned for years," finally said the Eleventh Doctor.

"Indeed it has, sir," Edward told him. "All these alien creatures have long abided at court."

"At court?" asked the Tenth Doctor grimacing.

"Yes, sir," Edward answered. "With the exception of the servants and most of the foreign ambassadors, I am afraid at present most courtiers are Zygons. As a matter of fact, they have been so for years. Even Her Majesty's ladies-in-waiting are!"

"What?" asked a surprised Captain Jack Harkness. "Lady Caroline is a Zygon?" The smirk that suddenly appeared on his lips indicated that he was more than satisfied with this unexpected discovery. "Naughty little creature… She never told me!"

"Why would the Queen want to surround herself with Zygons?" asked Clara.

"Because she does not trust humans anymore, my lady," Edward replied.

"She doesn't trust humans but she trusts Zygons?" asked the Tenth Doctor.

"Take it from me, Doctor – she's got reasons to distrust Zygons too," said Jack.

All human beings were different. The Doctor had met too many of them as to ignore that much, but he had also met as many as to know full well that, given the right circumstances, they could be of like mind. The silence, the odours, and the emptiness of the endless corridors in the lower Wakefield Tower were having an equally unnerving and gloomy effect on this gang of intruders, and different as they all were – a teacher of English from twentieth-century London, a reputed playwright and nobleman from the sixteenth century, a fifty-first century Time Agent who had startlingly become immortal owing to something as unpredictable as chance, and a mighty Time Lord who had spent about the last thousand years travelling in time and space –, the lighter tone in their conversation was welcomed by each and every single one of them.

They continued to walk along those long dark corridors and soon found themselves inside another room – one that appeared to be particularly blood-curdling. From their place near the entrance and even in the dim illumination provided by the Doctors' screwdrivers and Jack's torch, they all could see several sets of manacles hanging from the ceiling. Once they started to roam around the room, the rest of the hellish instruments the chamber housed were revealed to them. All over the place, there were Judas chairs, Judas cradles, wooden horses, metal coffins, breast rippers, and crocodile shears. In a place of honour in the middle of the room, there were a rack, a head crusher, and a Scavenger's daughter.

"The Torture Chamber," Jack muttered.

"Oh yes," added the Eleventh Doctor, "and it's definitely living up to my expectations."

Edward, Jack, Clara, and the Doctors were overcome with horror as they took a moment to inspect those objects more thoroughly. The Doctors chose to examine them together with Edward de Vere following a short distance behind them, whereas Jack kept walking behind Clara.

"Can anyone else smell the spookiness in here?" asked the Eleventh Doctor, keeping a straight face.

"This is… Gruesome," said Jack with abhorrence as he stood next to a wooden table on top of which there were several objects on display.

"That thing over there…," said Clara, pointing at the corner of that same table, where some lead sprinklers and thumbscrews could be seen. "What can that be for? Oh well… Forget it! I don't really want to know."

"If it makes you feel any better, Clara," said to her the Tenth Doctor, taking a look around the room, "I think the Spanish Inquisition was even worse."

"I know you mean well, Doctor – but no, that's not making me feel any better," she told him. "The thought that people are actually made to suffer in here is making me sick…"

"I hate this place too," replied the Eleventh Doctor, who was looking at the waist harness of one of the Judas cradles with a grimace of revulsion. "Jack? Why don't you play something?"

"What?" asked the Tenth Doctor, turning to his future self. "What did you just say, Chinny?"

"I just think all of us could use some music, Sandshoes," told him the Eleventh Doctor.

"Good thought indeed!" ironically said the Tenth Doctor. "But first, why don't we make sure that no one else can listen to it too?"

"Don't be such a spoilsport… This place is empty!" exclaimed the Eleventh Doctor.

"Not absolutely empty, Chinny, let me remind you!" the Tenth Doctor answered, and then, turning to Clara, he went on. "Clara? Where exactly is that girl friend of yours?"

"Locked up in one of the dungeons," she told him.

"See?" the younger Time Lord said, turning to his future self triumphantly.

"And where exactly are the dungeons?" the Eleventh Doctor asked Clara.

"I don't know," she replied with a sigh, "up there somewhere, but we must find them and set her free. In fact, shouldn't we just start looking for her right now? There are no Zygons here anymore, Doctor, anyone can see that…"

"My lady Clara is right, sirs," Edward told them. "In order to find Zygons, it is court that we should be going to."

"Tell me about it," said Jack. "But we came here to find that girl, Eddie, so let's go get her and then head for Whitehall Palace. What do you reckon?"

"Well, I can't see why not…," added the Tenth Doctor.

Upon hearing them all, Clara sighed with relief. In her mind, a vision would not stop tormenting her – that of the scene she had witnessed before the vortex manipulator had taken her to The Mermaid Tavern together with Jack and Edward. Upon finally teleporting to the Tower of London, she had been punished with a glimpse into a future in which the girl had not been inside that dungeon anymore and Clara had seen a future version of herself crying into the Doctor's arms. What the fate of that poor girl might have been, she had no idea, but what she did know now was that those things she had seen had definitely not happened yet. She knew there was still a glimmer of hope, and for a very simple reason – the nightmarish scene she had accidentally witnessed had taken place in broad daylight, she remembered that very well, and as she, the Doctors, and the two men in Renaissance costume had made their way into the Tower very soon after dusk, she might still be able to get that girl out of there before the morning came. That way, the things she had seen would never even happen in the first place... All she needed to do was find the right dungeon as soon as could be!

"Isn't it great, having a gang? I love having a gang!" announced the Eleventh Doctor, forcing her out of her absent-mindedness. The Time Lord's latest attempt at finding a little ray of sunshine in the middle of their bleak surroundings had been thwarted by his previous self's refusal to let Jack play some music. Now he was enjoying himself after his friends' contributions had helped him make a plan he had not really had until then, making him genuinely excited. "It's only every now and then that I have one… The last one I can remember right now included John Riddell and Queen Nefertiti."

"That's the only gang you remember having, Doctor?" interrupted Jack, sounding really offended as his eyes darted from one of the metal coffins to the new Doctor.

"Well, I've suddenly realised that Strax, Jenny and Madame Vastra wouldn't have been very happy if they'd heard what I just said either," he added.

"You're doing it on purpose, aren't you?" asked him the Tenth Doctor.

"What am I supposed to be doing on purpose this time?" the Eleventh Doctor asked in confusion.

"My dear friends," interrupted Edward, unwittingly preventing the Doctors from starting another quarrel, and his interruption was most welcomed by Clara and Jack, "I think I may have made a most outstanding discovery."

Jack, Clara and the Doctors turned to him. At first he was just a black shadow in the dark, but when the light of Jack's torch finally started to shine on him, they saw him studying his free hand while holding a short candle he had found and somehow managed to light up with the other.

"I was simply reaching for that infamous device you will find above my head," he indicated. The others looked up and saw a breast ripper that had been attached to the wall by means of three long rusty bent nails, on which it had been left resting. "As luck would have it, sirs, I pricked my forefinger with it when I did."

"Ouch!" exclaimed the Eleventh Doctor. "Did it hurt?"

"And what happened then?" asked Jack with a frown.

"A most marvellous thing," answered Edward in wonder.

"Well, and what was it?" asked the Tenth Doctor, his tone indicating that he was starting to run out of patience. "Did you have a revelation?"

"Indeed I did, sir," said Edward, still lost in wonder.

"Oh, you did, didn't you? Brilliant! Did you hear any voices?" the Tenth Doctor asked sarcastically.

"Doctor!" exclaimed Clara, frowning upon him.

"I know!" the Doctor said, his mouth gaping as he furrowed his brow. "I'm being rude! I'm sorry, Edward! I deeply apologise!"

"There is no need, sir," Edward told him. "As it happens, I am starting to hear voices this very instant, sir... No! Not voices…. Just one voice! And indeed it is the most beautiful voice I have ever heard, sirs! And that song! It is spellbinding! Like a siren song!"

"Well, personally, I wouldn't describe it as spellbinding," said the Tenth Doctor. "Beautiful? Oh, certainly! Magnetic? Well… Maybe! But definitely not spellbinding…"

"So you can hear it too!" exclaimed Jack and Clara at the same time.

"What?" the Tenth Doctor asked them, quite confused.

"The song! You can hear it!" said Jack.

"Of course I can hear it! Can't you?" the Tenth Doctor asked them.

"Yes, I can," Jack replied in amazement. "Can you, Clara?"

"Oh yes," she answered as her eyes widened.

A female voice singing an enchanting song had indeed started to sound inside the room, and the Eleventh Doctor had been the only one in the party who had shuddered upon hearing it.

"Oh!" he cried out. Lowering his eyebrows and squinting, he stood still for a moment before he crossed the room in four strides to get to the Earl of Oxford. Once by his side, the Doctor grabbed the hand that Edward had been examining minutes before, and using the light of his screwdriver to inspect it carefully, all his questions got their answers the second he saw what he saw.

There was a black spot in the middle of the playwright's palm.

"It's her…," the Doctor blurted out as his eyes started to glare.

"Who?" Jack asked.

"The goddess... The goddess in the Tower…" he answered as he smiled. "And the disappearances, and the beast… It's her! It's been her all the time!"

"And who is she?" asked Clara.

The Eleventh Doctor was prevented from answering that question by a human form suddenly springing up out of a bucket in the corner of the room. He had been expecting it to be encompassed by a green shaft of light, but to his surprise, it turned out to be an orange one, smoky, sparkling and spiralling.

Clara, Jack, and the Tenth Doctor kept staring in amazement at the singing creature floating in the air. It was obvious to them that it couldn't be human, but it most certainly had a human form. And quite an attractive one, Jack thought – long fair hair, which looked flaming orange in that fiery glow, a beautiful face, and glaring but very sad eyes.

"Who are you?" the Tenth Doctor asked, staring at her in admiration.

The creature, however, didn't spare him a single glance. Slowly but surely, she descended to the ground, never taking her eyes off Edward, and when her bare feet finally touched the cold stone floor, she stepped closer and closer in his direction, and eventually reached out a hand to him.

Jack noticed Edward bumping into him as he started to make his way towards the creature. The Earl of Oxford, however, was no longer himself. His eyes had turned into a madman's, and he was moaning and reaching out for the creature as he walked in her direction.

"What's happening to him?" asked Jack worriedly. "He looks like he's completely lost it!"

"What is your substance," they all heard him say as if in a trance, "whereof are you made, that millions of strange shadows on you tend?"

"What's that? What's he saying?" asked Jack.

"I think it's one of his sonnets," answered Clara in bewilderment.

And then, all of a sudden, Edward was pulverized the instant his fingertips did something as simple as caress the creature's.

"She's killed him!" shouted Clara after a brief instant of silence.

"What have you done?!" screamed an incredulous Tenth Doctor, clenching his teeth as he looked at the floating being suspended in the air, but by the time he finished asking that question, the creature had also vanished into thin air.

"What is she?" asked Jack. "And why would she want to take him instead of us?"

"You!" suddenly screamed the Tenth Doctor, stabbing his finger at his future self's chest. "You'd seen her before… You knew her! You knew what she was going to do and yet you did nothing to stop her! Why?!"

Oddly enough, the Eleventh Doctor had not heard those last words, not even the words that had been said before those. As it happened, his mind and all his senses were far away from that chamber and the people that were in it. They had left that place the moment the creature had appeared, and they had run away after her, trying to get her and hold her tight and never let her leave him again.

"But why?" he kept thinking, and he hated not being able to answer that question yet. He only knew he had to find her, and that nothing in the world would stop him from finding her.

He had to find out why the creature that had just vanished had had the form of a human being that, not long before, he had known very well, and his lips, which from the moment she first appeared, had remained completely silent, finally betrayed her name.

"Pond!" he cried out, reaching out a hand for her.