The Doctor

Didn't think much of Arthur Blackburn, on the whole. A vacant young man, with an insipid smile plastered to his face, and a gormless note in his bright blue eyes. He was a handsome man, no doubt about that, but the Doc had been around for long enough to know a boring man when he saw one. This young'un had only his looks going for him, and no brains to back up the favourable impression one would get from looking at him. His blonde hair and square jaw made him look a little like Fred from Scooby-Doo, albeit with a horrible little whiskery goatee sprinkled around his mouth.

His father was quite the opposite. Sinclair Blackburn was pushing fifty, and his long blonde hair was snowed white at the temples, with grey stubble coating his cheeks. He wasn't exactly fat, but a large gut hung weighty over his belt, a beer-belly if ever there was one. He had a handlebar mustache which was trimmed to perfection, smooth and equal lengths on both sides. An unattractive great sod, certainly, but cold and calculating intelligence lurked in his eyes.

"My lords," Znya said, observing them coolly from her throne in the entrance hall. The Doctor stood at her side, with Jack and Rose flanking the raised platform upon which the throne was placed. "Can I first express my sincere condolences - you have lost a son and a brother, at such a young age, and I cannot imagine how hard that is for you both."

"Thank you for saying so," Sinclair smiled, bowing his head, "Henry was a wonderful young man, it's true, but a drunkard like his father. He moved too slowly on our hunt, and the stag we sought pierced his throat with it's antler. I had the horrible honour of holding him as he drew his final breath...he went peacefully, under the circumstances. It was like watching a man drift off to sleep."

"Well, quite." Znya tutted sympathetically. "But let us not waste time with small-talk. I'm sure you don't want to relive that ghastly day for my benefit, so let us speak plainly. Why are you here?"

Sinclair stepped back and steered his son closer to Znya's throne. "As my letter explained," he said smoothly, "now that Arthur here is my eldest son and heir, it is vital for him to marry as soon as possible. We could think of no match better than yourself, my lady."

"I'm charmed." Znya smiled sardonically, giving Arthur her cold appraisal. "And why do you come to me only now? I don't recall ever being offered Henry's hand in marriage."

"Indeed not, my lady." Sinclair said gravely. "Two reasons for this. Firstly, Henry seldom did as I bade. As you perhaps know, he married a peasant girl without my consent."

"I did know that," Znya said, "continue."

"Well, secondly, you were not as desirable a match in years gone by. Only with the help of your warden has Callow's Reach thrived so richly in recent months." He bowed to the Doctor, who inclined his head curtly in turn.

"So what say you?" he pressed. "Will you accept my son's hand in marriage? Will you join our two great houses? Think of our potential, my lady, if our riches and influence were combined!"

"And you?" Znya turned to Arthur.

He blinked. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Is this marriage what you want, my lord?"

"Oh...yes, my lady! Absolutely!" And he said nothing more.

"Right..." Znya looked at him uncertainly, as he stared blankly back at her, his mouth slightly ajar.

"I decline your proposal."

Sinclair Blackburn blinked. "Oh. And may I ask why?"

"You certainly may," Znya said smoothly, "let's not insult each other's intelligence, my lord. We both know why you are really here, and that's to take Callow's Reach for your own."

"Never! Callow's Reach is yours! It will always be yours, my lady!"

"Yes, but if I were to marry your...charming son, then to all intents and purposes, he becomes the lord of Callow's Reach, and I his lady. It will remain mine by law, of course, but his by practice. And through him, it will be yours."

"Such wicked and depraved thoughts never entered my mind, Lady Znya!" Sinclair bristled indignantly. "I want only my son wed to a suitable women, and pure born heirs for the both of our houses! Is this not what you want?"

Znya didn't answer. She merely turned in her seat and nodded to the Doctor, who extracted a scroll of parchment from his pocket.

"Well, lads," he said brightly, hopping off the throne platform and approaching the Blackburns, "could be that this is truly all ya want - a marriage, plenty o' kids, and some good old fashioned friendship. Looking at youse, I'd say yer both honest folk, good and honourable men. Am I right?"

"House Blackburn prides itself on it's honour!" Sinclair nodded vigorously.

"Right. Well as such, I'm thinking this marriage can go ahead, on one little condition..."

He showed the contract to Sinclair, delighting in the intensity of the rage he sensed building up inside the man.

"Just a 'lil precaution. This'll make sure my daughter keeps control of Callow's Reach, an' it gives us both what we need - heirs. I'm sure you'll be 'appy to sign."

Check.

Sinclair swallowed. "Why...why of course!" he managed a smile. "Certainly, certainly!" He turned to Znya.

She nodded slowly. "Very well..." she said. "Conditional upon your signing this agreement, then yes...yes, I consent. I will gladly marry your dear son."

Check-mate.