Rose
"Matrimony!" the Doctor exclaimed, reading from the scroll of parchment with a frown.
"Another proposal?" Znya sighed. "Who's it from this time?"
"Lord Sinclair Blackburn, of Blackforte, recommending that you, Znya Xul Mahnya Tuzk Dhara, Lady of Callow's Reach, marry his oldest son and heir"-
-"Certainly not!" Znya spat, eyes wide with disgust. "I know well of Henry Blackburn, his repulsiveness is the stuff of notoriety! A whoring drunk, too lowly for a commoner, let alone me."
"Uh..." the Doctor skim read the message again, "well this don't name Henry Blackburn as his oldest son. According to this, his oldest's one Arthur Blackburn."
"Arthur Blackburn?" Znya sat up straight. "Why, that's his second born son, and he is reputed to be everything that his elder brother isn't."
"So I'm guessing Henry's dead?" Rose chimed in, keen to make some sort of contribution to the meeting, however dismal and small.
"That'd be my thinking," the Doctor agreed, putting the message down. "This Sinclair don't hang about to grieve, does he? Oldest boy dead, and he's already working to palm off his second son."
"Hmm." Znya shrugged, and took the message from the Doctor, her eyes glossing over it. "So what d'you all think?"
"You can't marry Arthur Blackburn, Zyn!" Jack drawled, leaning back on his chair and slamming his feet up on the round table, "I thought you was gonna marry me, baby!"
Znya giggled, but didn't grace the remark with a response.
"I reckon you should do just as you like," the Doctor said, "d'ya want to marry Arthur Blackburn?"
"Want is a strong word." Znya said mildly. "But there's one thing I do want, and that's an heir. I'm without child Doctor, and not as young as I once was. Oh, I know that our lifespans far outstrip any humans, but...you never know what the next day brings, do you? If I were to die unexpectedly, Callow's Reach would be without a ruler!"
"There's summink in that," the Doctor agreed evenly, "but still, I'm reckoning the Blackburn's fancy a little more than just giving you an heir. They want Callow's Reach, Zyn. As your 'usband, he'd be basically in control the moment ya tie the knot."
"And that is a problem," Znya agreed, "but so is my having no heir. How do we reconcile the two?"
"I know!" Jack threw his feet off the table and sat up straight, pulling his chair closer to the table. "Zynny girl, you ever wondered where my accent comes from?"
Znya shrugged. "No. I assumed up north somewhere?"
"Wrong!" Jack exclaimed, slamming a fist on the table. "This is the lingo of my ancestors, the accent of the USA itself, greatest hub for business on Earth!"
"Never heard of it."
"What?"
"Bit early yet. It's only 1500." Rose said quietly, patting Jack's arm.
"Oh, yeah...well, as the closest thing to a businessman here, I'll tell you exactly what you do to reconcile those two problems!"
"Go on."
"A contract!" Jack beamed. "Enforceable in any and every court of law, a written document, an agreement, by which your marriage need not hand over any control of Callow's Reach to Arthur. If he signs, then great! If he refuses, deny him the marriage he craves. Deny him an heir as he denies you one."
"Jack," the Doctor breathed, "it flamin' well pains me to say it, but that's fantastic!"
"Well," Jack purred, leaning over to the Doctor, "I feel obliged to kiss you for saying that, Doctor. All good with that?"
"So long as it's very quick." the Doctor screwed his face up as Jack planted a sloppy kiss on his lips.
"It could work," Rose said evenly, trying not to laugh at Znya's nonplussed expression. "If you reckon you do want to marry this guy?"
"I need to think on it." Znya said smoothly. "And I will. But for now, I suggest we move on to the next order of business."
"Sure," the Doctor said, "but when your thinking about it, also think about how you'd explain certain...things to this Arthur, if you end up marrying him. Not least, the flamin' great spider in the tower."
"Oh," Znya said, her face darkening, "there's be no need to explain that to him."
Rose made a point of keeping the smile plastered to her face, as she exchanged the briefest glance with Jack, who was wearing an equally strained smile upon his handsome features.
It was the little things which gave Znya away. For the vast majority of these three, long months in 1500, Znya had been charming, chatty and altogether likable. So much so that Rose almost forgot to be suspicious of her from time to time, and almost felt comfortable in her presence.
And then the little things would happen. Sometimes she'd say or do something inexplicably odd, be rude without reason, make a comment that had little to no bearing to whatever she was responding to. Times like that reminded Rose of why she'd stayed here, why she'd refused point blank to be returned to her own time, so that the Doctor could stay here and serve as Znya's warden alone.
Something was wrong. Something was horribly, terribly wrong. The Judoon, so conveniently here to cause trouble, the castle with corridors that moved, the spider, and the strange lady in the middle of it all, who let something abnormal slip through the mask now and again, something sinister, and something that the Doctor remained inexplicably unable to see.
If Rose could finally get a glimpse, a proper glimpse, of whatever lay behind that mask, then she'd blow this nonsense wide open.