The Ninth Doctor

Wasn't proving a natural father, thus far. He hadn't a clue what to say to his newfound daughter, who sat opposite him before a mighty fire burning in the hearth. It was late now, and Rose and Jack had long since retired to their bedrooms. But sleep was the very last thing on the Doctor's mind.

"She visited you then," he said, peering into the depths of the fire, so hot that it was burning his eyes. "Did she come often?"

"No. Now and again. Less, as the years went on. Always spoke highly of you, though. Not a visit went by when you weren't the hot topic. She loved you, Doctor. I mean...father..."

The Doctor chuckled. "Doctor is fine."

"Doctor, then. Look, I was upset earlier, and I shouldn't of called you both cowards. She did right by me, in her own limited way. Gave me to a wealthy lord and lady who couldn't sire children of their own. This is a cruel era she left me in, no doubt, but I grew up in the best of it. I have dined with King Henry Tudor himself, would you believe?"

"Henry...the eighth?" the Doctor chuckled nervously. "Wait, no...too early. Henry the seventh, then?"

"That's the one," she agreed, "what kind of king will Prince Henry be? A good one, I'll wager? I've not heard much about him, but what little I have heard, I've liked. I used to daydream that one day father...my adoptive father, I mean...might suggest me as a match for him. I could have been Queen!"

"Yeah..." the Doctor squirmed, "yeah, being Henry the Eighth's Queen ain't too good a position to hold. You ain't still pursuing it, right?"

She shook her head. "It won't happen now. When father died, he took any chance of it with him."

"Is that why you've brought me here?" the Doctor asked, as Cartwright bustled over with two glasses of mulled wine. He took his and sipped politely from the goblet. It was pleasantly fruity and steaming hot. "Why now, Znya? Coz I'm the only parent you got left?"

"Goodness, no!" Znya exclaimed, "there is a reason, but it's nothing that soppy!"

"Then what?" the Doctor demanded. "Is it money you want? Because I'm far short of a shilling, I'll tell ya that for nothing. Never carry money."

At this, Znya chuckled.

"What?" the Doctor demanded, smiling in spite of himself.

"Nothing," she giggled, peering at him from over the rim of her goblet. "It's just that your exactly like mother always said you would be."

"Is that a compliment?"

Znya considered. "Not really, no." she admitted. "But I didn't bring you here for your money, and I certainly didn't bring you here because I'm pining for a father figure. I brought you here, because according to mother, your good at...fixing things. Is that right?"

"Depends." the Doctor said airily. "I'm a menace with the plumbing, and I don't know me way round a building site."

"That's not what I mean," Znya chortled, "as you well know."

"Sure." the Doctor frowned. "Your talking about problems, ain't ya?"

"I am at that," Znya agreed, "your good at fixing problems, am I right?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I get by."

"Quite. Well, I've got a problem that I'd like some help with. Ride with me tomorrow. You and the others. There's something I'd like you to see."

Morning

You wouldn't spot the ice house unless you knew it was there.

It was an unassuming little bunker nestled in the very bosom of Callow's Wood, the summer-lush grounds surrounding High Keep and the village. Summer-lush they may be, but alas, it was deepest pit of winter just now. The trees, of numerous breeds and sizes, hung bare-branched above them, half-obscuring the white winter's sky, and going a way towards shielding them from the incessant snowfall. The Doctor liked snow well enough, drawing a child-like buzz from the sight of the white stuff, so novel and fun that it was. Nevertheless, there was such a thing as too much, and it hadn't stopped falling since they'd arrived last night. Probably, it was eight feet thick in places, and still rising.

And amidst this frozen forest, this winter's scene from Christmas cards yet to come, was tucked a little barred passageway, semi-hidden between two large shrub bushes. Beyond the barred door was naught by darkness, and a musty stale smell from within. This was a cold place, in more ways than one. In summer, the lady of Callow's Reach, his daughter, could store perishable food in there, and postpone it from festering. In winter, of course, it was broadly useless.

Broadly useless. Not totally. It could still be used for storing things, or indeed, holding them...

"We didn't know where else to put it." Znya remarked, dismounting fluidly from her horse, her legs swinging over the bulk of the brute with practiced ease. The Doctor clambered down from his mount with considerably greater difficulty, but at least his was a more graceful attempt than Jack's, who fell flat on his back after getting a foot caught in one of the stirrups.

"Smoothly done." Rose cackled, helping him upright and dusting down the back of his blue coat, which was riddled with filthy bits of the forest floor.

Znya chuckled lightly, and padded through the snow towards the ice house, a large iron key clamped in her red-gloved hand.

"As I was saying, we couldn't think where else to put it. I didn't want it in the castle, and there was nowhere in the village secure enough to hold it. It's damned strong, any man of the town'll tell you that. Took nearly all of 'em to get it in here."

The Doctor beamed. "I'm interested!" he exclaimed. "And it ain't gonna try and kill us?"

"I'd happen not," Znya said uncertainly. "Been down there for a full four weeks, and we've not fed it much. Once a day, at most. Reckon it's too weak to put up much of a fight just now."

"Well for all our sake's, let's hope your right." the Doctor laughed. He nodded at the gate. "Go on, then. Let's get it over with."

Znya nodded and unlocked the door to the ice house, which swung open with a noisy creak. The Doctor held his breath and edged through the threshold, walking into the oppressive darkness of the ice house. He withdrew the sonic from his pocket and used the light to illuminate his way some. It revealed a round chamber, with damp-riddled brickwork, and a pit dug about fifteen feet into the ground.

"Ah." he said calmly, as he pointed his screwdriver into that pit, and saw it's occupant, which sat leaning against the glistening walls, glaring up at him with flaring rage. It's eyes were beady little mean dots situated above a cumbersome grey-brown snout with two lethal looking horns jutting out of the top.

Jack joined him at the edge of the pit and whistled. "Wooaah!" he exclaimed, shrinking back away from the edge, "there's a sight I never like to see."

The Doctor chuckled. "Guessing it ain't ever good news for you, is it? When the Judoon come calling?"

"Generally not." Jack admitted.

"Judoon, did you say?" Znya cut in. "Are they dangerous?"

"Nah," the Doctor said airily. "Well...provided you don't provoke 'em. And provided they aren't in a bad mood...but it strikes me that you've provoked this one pretty badly, eh?"

"There's plenty more where he came from, too." Znya said darkly. "There's about fifty of 'em! They've been attacking the villagers for months."

The Judoon scrambled to it's feet, chains rattling around it's ankles, and started barking orders up at them in it's harsh mother tongue, the rhino's eyes swiveling madly in their sockets.