Author's Note: Hi! Yeah, I know, I know, I took ages to update, sorry about that, but I'm still struggling badly with my writing at the moment, so I'm doing the best I can. Anyway, this is a very long chapter, so I'm going to try for a very short author's note.
Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you are all amazing and very encouraging. Special thanks to Marzipan for all your comments, and especially for being my 500th reviewer, I appreciate it immensely.
Hope the chapter isn't too awful...happy reading!
- Chapter Twenty Four -
"The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels,
Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fan
Of silver as the rondo slows; now reels
Begin on tilted violins to span
The whole revolving tall glass palace hall
Where guests slide gliding into light like wine;
Rose candles flicker on the lilac wall
Reflecting in a million flagons' shine,
And glided couples all in whirling trance
Follow holiday revel begun long since,
Until near twelve the strange girl all at once
Guilt-stricken halts, pales, clings to the prince
As amid the hectic music and cocktail talk
She hears the caustic ticking of the clock."
- Sylvia Plath, Cinderella
Why was it, Tejana wondered wryly, that nobody on Gallifrey could ever do anything without making a long, boring speech about it first?
Across the other side of the kitchen, near the transmat tubes, Fionnula had lined her serving staff up like tin soldiers in neat, immaculate lines, before inspecting them from head to toe, to ensure they would meet the high standards required by their Time Lord masters. Now she was busy providing them with a lengthy list of "dos and don'ts" to obey once they were up in the ballroom. The rules of etiquette and protocol seemed to go on and on for ever, worse even than the ones the young Time Lords were expected to follow, and they'd been bad enough. Tejana had trouble believing any of the servants would be able to remember them all.
She was seated at a table, where she had been relegated to stuffing what seemed like thousands of sweet pastry cases with thul berries. At first, she'd hoped she would have a chance to steal away, to find and waylay Koschei before he arrived at the Ball. The need to see him – to touch him – just once more still burnt inside her, the sense of something being unfinished weighing her down. After everything that had happened between them, it just seemed wrong to leave without a word, even if he would lose all memory of her and would never know the difference. He might not remember, but she would... and she needed to say goodbye.
However, Fionnula seemed determined to thwart her at every turn, ensuring she was well-supervised by various senior staff members at all times. Tears stung her eyes and she lowered her head to hide them as the other serving staff filed excitedly towards the transmat tubes, leaving her behind. She had to accept that she would never see him again, not as he was in this timeline. She couldn't even ask Theta to say goodbye to him for her, because once she jumped into the crack, Theta wouldn't remember her either.
"Regretting it a bit now, are we?"
Looking up at the sound of the voice, she saw Maerl, the man who was Dyoni's new admirer, standing by the table. Her hearts sank. She really didn't want to spend her last few hours on Gallifrey talking about flutterwings and fledershrews. Or even about Dyoni, come to that, if that's what he had in mind.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked haughtily, hoping he would go away.
Seemingly unperturbed at her tone, he seated himself, reached for some of the pastry cases and began to assist her in filling them. "All year, the maid-servants look forward to Otherstide. It's the only taste of glamour they get in their lives, seeing all the young Time Lords in their formal tunics and the lovely Ladies in their beautiful gowns. There's not a single one of them would miss it for all the world. Dyoni's nearly bursting at the seams, she's so excited. But here you sit, refused permission to attend. So I was wondering if you regretted what you said last night?"
Tejana looked at him narrowly, wondering what he was getting at. He seemed to be genuinely curious. Was he about to lecture her on learning to hold her tongue? If so, he could forget it – she'd already heard more than enough on that subject from Fionnula.
"I do regret not going to the Ball," she said coldly. "So much more than you'll ever understand. But I don't regret a single word of what I said. It was all true and someone should have said it a long, long time ago."
Maerl met her gaze, his eyes a sad, smokey grey. "Truth is a luxury we servants can't afford, Kat," he replied, a serious expression on his face. "You are not the only one to believe as you do. But once you've been here for a while, you'll come to realise there's nothing to be done. Things have been this way for centuries and they will never change. So it's better just to give up and accept it and live your life the best way you can, the same way the rest of us do. Trying to fight it will just make things worse."
His voice was dull and flat and completely without hope. Tejana stared at him, dismayed and repulsed by how apathetic he was. She was accustomed to men who reached out, seized the Universe by the balls and squeezed as hard as they could. There was no chance either the Doctor or the Master would meekly and unquestioningly accept whatever bullshit was dished up to them in life - and neither would Jack, or even John Hart. If they didn't like the way things were, every single one of those men would change it, for better or for worse. However, it seemed that a billion years of abject servitude to the Time Lords had slowly bred out every spark of independence or rebellion in Maerl's people, leaving behind a race of inert, spineless jellyfish.
"Of course things can change!" she said incredulously. "Nothing stays the same for ever. And the nature of every change is determined by what individuals do...or don't do. Sometimes the smallest action by the most insignificant person can make all the difference. A single man can save the entire Universe...believe me, I've seen it happen more than once."
Maerl frowned, his hands stilling over his work. "What do you mean, you've seen it happen?"
She shook her head. "That's not important. What's important is that you have to believe that what you do matters. When I was a very little girl, my father taught me a poem, written by a woman named Emily Dickinson, and I've never forgotten it: 'If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain. If I can ease one life the aching, or cool one pain, or help one fainting robin unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.' If you're too frightened to do even the smallest thing to change things for the better, you're not living at all, Maerl...you're only existing. And what's the point of that?"
"That's my choice," he growled. "And the choice of every person here. You're new here, a nobody! You don't get to make it for us."
Tejana's head drooped tiredly, unable to deal with the hostility in his tone. In a few hours, none of the servants would remember her or anything she had said, so what was the point in arguing with him? An image of the approaching crack shimmered in the back of her mind, making her feel sick with apprehension.
"No, you're right, I don't," she agreed in a low voice. "But I do get to make my own choices. And right now, I choose not to continue this conversation, if you don't mind."
"Fine! Suit yourself, my lady!" he snapped in bitter mockery. "I'll just go and see if I can find a fainting robin to help back into his nest again, shall I?"
With that, he jumped to his feet, scattering berries across the table, and stalked away.
Tejana bit her lip at his sarcasm and returned her attention to the pastry cases, determined not to allow his anger to get to her. Her time was so short now. Up above, in the ballroom, she guessed that Lord Borusa would be finishing his welcome speech. Then he would open the Ball, dancing with one of the senior Time Ladies. He was an excellent dancer, she remembered, graceful and limber to a fault, even in his later regenerations. Although it had seemed almost sacrilegious to imagine such a thing, Tejana had often wondered what he had been like in his youth, in the days when he had attended the Academy as a student.
With my rotten luck, I'll jump into the crack and go even further back in Gallifrey's history, she reflected ruefully. And then I'll find out first hand.
After her argument with Maerl, nobody else spoke to her, the other servants showing their disapproval by ignoring her completely. She didn't mind. With the terror of the crack looming over her, the effort of making pointless conversation was too much to bear. The next couple of hours seemed to drag by incredibly slowly. Tejana felt it when they began to dance. The music seemed to seep down through the ancient stones of the Academy, silently stirring her soul. She could feel the wild, sweet tempo, the haunting melodies, sense the feet beating out the pulsating rhythms of the Universe on the onyx floor far, far above. Her feet twitched and she longed to be there, dancing with them, losing herself in the collective psyche of her people, just as she had done so many times in the past. She wondered who Koschei was dancing with, and whether his unknown partner matched him as well as she had done. Her hearts cried a little at the thought. And her mother...oh, she wished she could have seen her father dancing with her mother, just once, an image to treasure for always, no matter how many Roses and Rivers he took up with in the future. But she knew such wishes were futile...she wasn't Cinderella and this wasn't a fairytale. No matter how hard she wished, she wasn't going to the Ball.
Supper-time came and went. She helped to load all the delicacies they had spent so long preparing into the transmat cabinets, sending them upstairs for the Time Lords to consume. Then she helped to unload the same cabinets, transferring the dirty dishes to the sanitation units, making sure she kept busy so she didn't have to think.
Still time meandered ponderously onwards, until there was only a little less than two hours until midnight. Tejana was becoming more and more on edge. She fancied she could hear a clock inside her head, counting down the seconds. Tick tock, goes the clock, our happiness is fleeting; tick tock, goes the clock, soon sadness we'll be greeting... the creepy song of the marionettes on Mnemosyne stole through her brain, making her shiver.
And that was when something unexpected happened. The transmat tubes flickered and two figures appeared. One was Fionnula and the other was Salome, the girl with the acid burn on her right cheek, whom Tejana had met the previous day in the Infirmary. She had been one of the servants recruited to wait at the Ball, as happy and excited as any of the others. But now she had her hands up over her face, her shoulders shaking with hysterical sobs. The Head Housemaid touched her gently on the arm and she ran towards the door, still crying heart-brokenly.
"Cardinal Lenardi said she was hideous and had no right serving at the Ball, where people could see her," Fionnula said. Her face and her voice were both expressionless, but furious outrage burned in her eyes. "He dismissed her back down to the kitchen and forbade her to appear in the public areas of the Academy again."
Another example of Time Lord cruelty, Tejana thought bitterly, unthinking and uncaring of how much they hurt. If it hadn't been for Anzor and his psychopathic games, Salome would have been as pretty as any of the others. She turned and gave Maerl a pointed look, but he merely dropped his eyes and refused to meet her gaze.
"Kat, you'll have to take her place," Fionnula continued briskly.
Tejana's head shot up in genuine surprise. "Me?"
"It doesn't mean that you have been reprieved, just that you are very fortunate," the Head Housemaid snapped. "I cannot afford to be short-handed, and you are the only staff member I have available that they would consider presentable!"
"Yes, ma'am," Tejana said meekly.
"Very well! Tidy yourself and present yourself in service area of the ballroom. The duty steward will tell you what to do. Quickly now!"
Hurriedly, Tejana did what she was told, removing her apron and patting her hair into order. As sorry as she felt for Salome, inwardly she was singing with happiness. There was time enough left to speak to Koschei and to see her mother. And when she jumped into the crack, whatever ended up happening, even if she was wiped out of existence forever, she would at least have that to take with her.
Fear not, Cinderella, she thought a little giddily, as she headed towards the transmat tube. You SHALL go to the Ball!
The Ball was in full swing when she slipped unobtrusively through the servant's entrance. As soon as she emerged from the transmat tube, she was met by a frazzled steward, who thrust a tray of drinks into her hands and curtly ordered her to start circulating with them immediately. Then he vanished, leaving her on her own. Balancing the tray, a little uncertain as to what she was supposed to do, she began to weave her way into the crowd. Searching her memory, she recalled drinks appearing in her hand at various stages during the Ball when she had danced here, but she couldn't quite remember how they had got there. She supposed she had taken them from trays just like this one. It was both reassuring and annoying to realise that none of the Time Lords who accepted drinks from her tonight would probably even register her existence. At least there was no reason her anonymity should be compromised, unless she did something foolish.
She had no sooner had the thought, when a trickle of awareness slipped through her consciousness, as if someone was standing closely behind her. She whirled around but, predictably enough, apart from the general press of the crowd, there was no-one there.
Koschei...?
There was no reply to her silent query, and the sensation was gone as quickly as it had come. But she was not fooled. The Master was here somewhere, not too far away, albeit invisible in his disembodied form. She knew it with every atom of her soul. Ordinarily, the realisation of his presence would have brought her relief and comfort. However, given the contentious way they had last parted, she couldn't help being troubled. The question was, did he intend to help or to hinder? Was he here to watch over her, or to fulfill some twisted agenda of his own? He was so unpredictable, the answer could be either - or even both - she had no way of knowing. And, when it came to the Master, not knowing made her very, very nervous.
"You there! Girl! Are you serving or not?"
The querulous voice brought her back to reality with a jolt, recalling her mind to her supposed duties. With a curtsey and a murmured apology, she handed a drink to the wrinkled old Time Lady who had addressed her. The woman took it with a disparaging sniff, before commenting acidically to her equally ancient male companion about uppity little red-headed snippets and how servants definitely weren't what they were in her day.
Tejana surreptitiously rolled her eyes and kept walking, telling herself there was nothing she could do to second-guess the Master right now. She couldn't allow herself to be distracted. The clock was ticking away her last minutes on Gallifrey. She had to do what she had come here for and then get out. The gods alone knew, it was going to be difficult enough locating young Koschei in this melee without the benefit of the psychic link.
The Ballroom she and the other servants had worked so hard to prepare looked absolutely stunning, even more glamorous than she remembered from her own youth. As she moved through the crowd, carefully searching for any sign of young Koschei, she found her eyes roving around in hungry, nostalgic pleasure, reacquainting herself with the splendour of the two enormous, glittering crystal chandeliers, one at each end of the room; the gleaming, circular dance-floor, the black onyx lavishly inlaid with the golden, figure-of-eight Symbol of Rassilon; the sweeping black staircase leading up to the wide, upper galleries; the soaring walls, draped in rich swathes of antique-white and beige silk; and the magnificent, diamond-trellised balustrades, reflecting the soft, luminescent light from the holographic stars scattered across the vaulted ceiling. The air was perfumed with the fragrance of a myriad of flowers; rare, exotic blossoms that could only be found on Gallifrey, entwined around the ancient, carved pillars and extravagantly banked against the walls.
But even more exotic than the flowers were the people. The huge room was absolutely teeming with hundreds and hundreds of Time Lords and Ladies, in all shapes and sizes. Some were dancing to the beautiful, liquid music pouring from the orchestra pit, the circular floor filled with gracefully pirouetting couples; while others stood talking and laughing and drinking around the perimeter.
It was like looking out over a glorious sea of shifting colour. Here and there, Tejana could see the traditional high collars and flowing robes of the senior Time Lords, in a rainbow of different hues, representative of each of the Academies - the scarlet and orange of the Prydonian chapter, the green of the Arcalians, the heliotrope of the Patrexes, the silver-grey of the Dromeians, the light-blue of the Ceruleans and the primrose yellow of the Scendles. But a far more common tonight were the rich, gorgeous textures of fashionable Gallifreyan formal wear; sensual silks and satins for the women, elegant velvets and brocades for the men; all of them in a spectacular, mouth-watering display of vibrant, riotous colour.
For Tejana, the entire scene had a dream-like quality. After returning from E-Space and finding that the War was over, it had taken her years to come to terms with the fact that she and the Doctor, and – as she later found out – the Master, were the last survivors of their race. Until she finally managed to become accustomed to it, the dead, dusty silence within the psychic link had been like a virtual ache inside her head. And yet here she stood, at the very heart of Time Lord society, surrounded by a multitude of like minds, full of life and vigour, all pressing intimately against hers. Despite the extra effort required to maintain her concealing shields, the sensation of no longer being so isolated was incredibly intoxicating, like being given a much-needed drug after desperately craving it for a very long time.
A large dais had been set up at the end of the room, opposite the staircase. On it, the Lord President sat in state, on a chair of such grand proportions that it could only have been described as a throne. He was wearing his cream-coloured skull-cap and matching robes of office, with the Sash of Rassilon gleaming magnificently around his neck. At his right hand sat an overweight blonde man with plump cheeks, whom Tejana guessed to be the current Gallifreyan Chancellor, Umbast. He was perspiring heavily, even though he wasn't doing anything more strenuous than observing the dancing. Looking at him, Tejana couldn't help being reminded of a chubby pink piglet. On the President's left sat Lord Borusa, majestic in his formal robes, enjoying his place of honour as the Patrician of the host Academy for the evening. Arrayed behind them were the other members of the Inner Circle of the High Council, including Lord Oakdown, and the Patricians of the other Academies, each of them looking as lofty and superior as they knew how.
Drifting invisibly in the crowd, Tejana made a mental note to stay as far away from that end of the room, and Borusa's penetrating gaze, as she possibly could. If everything went to plan, she would be gone from here very soon. There was no point in tempting fate in the meantime.
All at once, in the sea of strange faces, she saw one she knew. It was Drax. He was standing and talking to an angular female in an astonishingly pink gown, who towered over him by at least a foot. Tejana looked at him in surprise. As a Time Lord, Drax had always been known and liked for his mischievous, devil-may-care personality and his stubborn refusal to take anything seriously, rather than for any claim to good looks. As far as she knew, unlike most of his contemporaries in the Deca, he had never been outstandingly handsome in any of his regenerations. However, tonight, dressed in his dark red formal tunic, he managed to look both charming and distinguished. He bowed elegantly to his partner and took her hand to lead her towards the dance floor. As he passed Tejana by, his eyes caught hers and he gave her a grin and a devilish wink. A lump rose in her throat as she saw again the man she had fought alongside in the Time War; the maverick commander who had always had her back, whose cheerfulness and wry, self-deprecating humour had always lightened the darkest of situations.
Goodbye, Tejana...bin a pleasure servin' with ya, luv...
His final, dying words echoed in her head as she turned her face away, tears in her eyes, not wanting to watch any more as he joined the dance. Drax... Rallon... Millennia... even Borusa, her one-time mentor... their names scraped jaggedly over her hearts, all of them alive here in this room, yet nothing left of them in her timeline except memories. So much pain and sorrow and loss, so many things she couldn't change. It made her even more determined to fight for her own happy ending, because, damn it all, someone had to get one, didn't they? Surely, as the last three survivors of their ancient race, she and the Doctor and the Master deserved that much.
The dancers whirled and shifted, a brilliant kaleidoscope of colour and movement, and as they parted, she saw Ushas. She was clothed in a clinging gown of purple damask, her curvaceous figure at its most alluring, her long, dark hair woven with glittering strands of amethyst. Much as it galled her, even Tejana had to admit the other woman looked absolutely ravishing. She was standing alone at the opposite edge of the dance floor, a stormy, bad-tempered look on her face. There was no sign of her partner, whoever he was.
Poor sod...probably ran away screaming, if he had any sense, Tejana thought bitchily. She certainly doesn't look very happy.
Ushas had her arms folded, her eyes fixed belligerently on something on the dance floor, obviously unhappy with whatever she was seeing. Curious, Tejana followed her gaze, trying to identify the source of her discontent. At first, she couldn't locate anything unusual about the whirling couples. But then, searching through the graceful patterns of the dance, she managed at last to pick out Theta's curly blonde head, and suddenly she understood. He was wearing a midnight blue tunic, embellished at the hem with the silver spiral triskele that was the symbol of the House of Lungbarrow. The material of his clothing was not as rich and fine as some of the other young Time Lords, and the embroidery of his house emblem not nearly so exquisite, but to his daughter – and no doubt to Ushas, as well – he looked stunningly handsome nonetheless.
Then the dance swirled again, and she was able to see his partner for the first time - a slender woman, much taller than Tejana, but still shorter than Theta, her head at about the same height as his shoulder. She had long, white-blonde hair, formally arranged like all the other Time Ladies in a series of tight, inter-coiled braids. She was dressed in a gorgeous silk gown of burnt orange, the same colour as a Gallifreyan summer sky.
Immediately, Tejana forgot all about Ushas. Her eyes clung to Theta's partner, hungry for every detail. She knew she was staring like an idiot, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. Up until now, she had only ever had the haziest picture of what her mother had looked like back in this timeline, drawn from the occasional flash of psychic insight into her father's closely-guarded memories; lapses in his mental control that happened very, very rarely. She drew in her breath sharply with shock. That long, white-blonde hair, pale enough to be almost silver...so much like Tejana's own, in her first regeneration. The tall, willowy body, the heart-shaped face – it was like looking at a portrait of herself when she was younger.
So this is my mother, she thought, stunned. My mother as she was when they met...
Her emotions spun into turmoil as she tried to absorb the gut-wrenching truth she had never understood before - that every time the Doctor had looked at her when she was growing up, he would have been seeing her mother's face.
Melanakaturadilena had died when her daughter was only seven years old. At first, Tejana had missed her intensely, the sense of loss burning in a never-ending spiral of endless misery, deep inside her. But slowly, as the years went by, the pain had begun to dull. And then, as she grew older, her father had become everything to her instead. Melana had given her life, but the Doctor was the one who had taught her to live in it. If her mother had been her guiding star, her father had become her sun, the brilliant, blazing centre around which her entire existence had revolved.
Now she had only the faintest of memories of Melana. The touch of a gentle hand. A snatch of lullaby, sung over her cradle. A soothing voice in the darkness of the night. But each fragment was a cherished treasure, as warm and fragile as a candle flame, the fleeting moments all she had ever expected to have of the mother she had lost so long ago.
And yet here she was, just a stone's throw away, at the very height of her youth and beauty, safe in the arms of her husband-to-be, her face radiant with pleasure. It was an incredibly bitter-sweet moment for Tejana, her joy at seeing her mother inextricably alloyed with pain. Melana's large dark eyes were fixed adoringly on Theta's handsome face, sparkling with love and laughter and hope for the future. Together, they looked like the poster couple for happiness and contentment.
But it was all a lie, just another Gallifreyan false front, a rosy apple with poison at the core. Tejana knew all too well the rebellion and resentment festering behind Theta's controlled, neutral expression. As she watched them dance together, she felt her hearts aching with compassion for her young mother. There was more than one reason for likening the Doctor to the sun, even this far back in his time-stream – because everyone knew that if you flew too close to the sun, you ended up getting burnt.
As if sensing her thoughts, Theta's eyes sought and found hers across the crowded room. Startled at seeing her so unexpectedly, his mask momentarily fell away and she could see the restless anger and frustration burning in his gaze; a wounded animal fighting to its last breath against a trap. He would never know it, but the look was like an arrow, stabbing her between both her hearts, driving home all over again just how little he had wanted the marriage with her mother.
Or, ultimately, the responsibility of a child, her inner voice taunted, raking over the old hurt that had never really healed, even after all this time. No matter how many centuries went by, no matter how old she got, there would always be some part of her that forever remained the child the Doctor had left behind.
Theta raised his eyebrows at her, silently querying whether she still intended to carry out her plan to slip away to the Adytum at midnight. She gave him a quick confirmatory nod and he returned his eyes to his partner, a meaningless smile plastered across his face as the dance swept them away again.
"They're a sweet-looking couple, aren't they?" a sarcastic voice said in her ear. "Makes you want to believe in true love and everlasting happiness...I don't think."
Tejana's stomach did an uncomfortable flip-flop. Trying to compose herself, she turned around. Koschei was standing close behind her. He was wearing his signature black, as always, his lithe form tall and slender in the formal tunic and trousers. His high collar and sleeves were embroidered in gold and across his chest was emblazoned the magnificent golden oak tree of his House. Tejana's gaze wandered slowly up his body to his face and her mouth went dry. The med-techs had obviously done their jobs well. His features were breathtakingly handsome, with no visible damage remaining from the attack in Low Town, apart from the faintest sign of faded bruising in places. They probably hadn't dared to fail, Tejana thought cynically – knowing Koschei's father, the consequences to the medical staff if they allowed the heir of Oakdown to be permanently scarred would have been severe indeed. His navy-blue eyes studied her intently, a small smile touching his lips, as if he guessed exactly what she was thinking. There was no doubt in her mind that he knew precisely how good he looked. In all the time she had known him, the Master had never been short on ego.
"It took you long enough to get here," he said. "I was starting to think you were never coming."
"I...was detained in the kitchens, my Lord," she replied, pulling her eyes away from his, unsettled by the way her hearts leaped when she realised he had been watching for her arrival.
He bent closer to her, near enough for the warmth of his breath to stir the tendrils of her hair. "Well, now that you're here, you can serve me, Kat."
Extremely aware of the crowd pressing around them, she kept her gaze lowered, trying not to show how much his nearness affected her. Trying, for the last time, to act like the servant she would never be. Perhaps seeing him again had not been the best idea after all. He was clearly at his most dangerous tonight, at least as far as she was concerned. Sexual electricity seemed to sparkle and burn in the air around them. "S...serve you?" she faltered.
He indicated the tray in her hands. "A drink, Kat. I want a drink."
"Of course, my Lord," she murmured, a faint flush staining her cheeks as she handed him one of the long-stemmed crystal glasses. His eyes glittered with dark amusement as he raised it to his lips and swallowed deeply, his gaze never leaving her face. Something about his demeanour told Tejana that this was far from the first drink he had taken tonight. He wasn't drunk – quite the contrary, he was in perfect control. But there was an edge about him, a barely-restrained recklessness that worried her. A sense that he had nothing left to lose. Just the fact that he was speaking to her so openly in public was a concern, especially with his father in the room. She just prayed he wasn't going to do something stupid, not tonight of all nights, when everything hung so finely in the balance. Without realising what she was doing, she flicked a quick, nervous glance over her shoulder, back through the crowd, involuntarily searching for the reassurance of Theta's face.
But as fleeting as the look was, Koschei caught it and he stiffened with anger. For a moment, she thought he might seize her roughly, as he had in the Infirmary, but much to her relief, he didn't move.
"So, tell me...what do you think, Kat?" he asked silkily, his voice layered with an indefinable sense of menace that sent a shiver up her spine, as potent as if he had stroked a finger across her flesh. "About Theta and Melana, I mean? A match made in heaven...or in hell? You must have some opinion...you've been staring at them for long enough."
"I hope they find some happiness together," she said, with perfect truth. "Everyone deserves that."
He gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Is that so? Perhaps you could explain that to my father – it seems no-one has ever let him in on that particular piece of wisdom."
Draining his glass in one long swallow, he set it back down on her tray with a small thump, before taking another one, his long, slender fingers wrapped so tightly around the fragile stem that Tejana was afraid it would shatter in his hand.
"So...no jealousy, Kat?" he taunted softly. "No dismay that soon Theta will be sharing his life and his bed with the lovely Melana?"
She could feel the heat of his body, standing so close to her; feel the turbulence he held leashed inside, aware that he could allow the reins of his control to slip at any minute. She lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely. "I don't get jealous. And certainly not over Lord Theta."
A hard, cruel smile curved his lips. "Everyone gets jealous sometimes, Kat. It's just a matter of finding the right button to press. How about if I told you I came here with Lady Ushas tonight? It's not the first Ball I've taken her to, and it probably won't be the last. She's from one of the most prominent families on Gallifrey – my father deems her a very suitable consort for me. We dance together, drink together, and afterwards I always take her back to my room and fuck her senseless. She's very good in bed, you know. Very, very good."
The harsh words sliced at Tejana like razor blades, just as he intended them to. Ushas. Oh, of course, it would have to be Ushas, wouldn't it? She had an instant image in her head of the two of them together...his hands stripping that sexy, purple dress from Ushas's body, kissing her, touching her, driving deep inside her, his handsome face twisted in overwhelming lust...and a surge of pure, white rage sizzled through her veins, her palm itching to drop the tray and slap him as hard as she could.
Instead, she refused to rise to the bait, however much he wanted her to. Carefully balancing the remaining drinks, she sank into a curtsey and said coolly, "I am very pleased for you, my Lord. I hope you and Lady Ushas enjoy yourselves very much."
In response, a cyclone of black, frustrated temper swirled in his eyes. "I can never make you react, can I?" he snarled bitterly. "I know you want me, as much as I want you, but I can never make you admit it. Why exactly is that, Kat?"
Tejana gave a silent sigh, all her anger dissolving into a wave of weariness, wishing she could shout out the truth. Because I am old and you are young and this Ball happened such a long, long time ago, she thought, her mind returning sadly to Drax, and Millennia and Rallon. I won't even be born for another two centuries. What right have I to be jealous of anything you do?
"I'm a servant, my Lord," she reminded him. "It's not my place to have any dealings with you."
For some reason, he seemed to find that funny. The fury lifted away from his expression and he laughed, before tilting his head back and emptying his glass again. "Not your place? Oh, my lovely little Kat, don't you understand? I'm the Heir of Oakdown. I'm the one who decides what your place will be!"
At that moment, there was a great swirl of music, summoning the dancers back to the floor. Tejana's eyes widened, as she recognised the melody and realised the Great Dance was about to start. This was the most honoured and ritualistic of the Otherstide dances. It was always the last of the traditional dances on the programme at the Ball. After that, the formal part of the celebration was considered to be over and, before long, the older Time Lords would retire for the evening, leaving the ballroom to the wilder after hours festivities preferred by their young students.
Tejana felt her breathing quickening. The music called to her like a siren's song, enticing and beautiful. She had always loved the Great Dance. There had never been anything else to compare with it. It was seductive and mystical, voluptuous and liberating, carnal and spiritual, all at once - an abstract conceptualisation of the infinite majesty of time and space, the ultimate affirmation of the balance of the Universe. Dancing it with Damon, becoming one with him as their steps entwined, she had felt the stars burning in her blood, the planets turning in her soul, the heat and the light, the cold and the dark, life and death, heaven and hell. She remembered the emotional high, the pure, unbelievably sensual rush of it; the feeling of belonging and deep identification with her people and her birth-right, as their feet had moved in the ancient choreography that countless other Time Lords had danced before them, since the beginning of Time.
The last time she had danced it, she had been little more than a child. Older than Theta and Koschei were now, to be sure; and more experienced too, because - by then - she had already travelled with the Second Doctor for a while. But still, looking back, she had been so woefully innocent, so ignorant of the true passion and the pain of the Universe. What would it be like to dance it now, to trace the Web of Time across the floor with close to six hundred years of hard-won experience and knowledge, of love and heart-break, peace and war, light and darkness? What would it be like to dance it, not with Damon, who had been her childhood friend, but with Koschei, her forever-lover?
The beguiling image burnt inside her like a flame, like an unquenchable, yearning ache. Ruthlessly, she shoved it away, refusing to even acknowledge or consider it. All around her, couples were heading for the dance floor and taking up their positions. The Great Dance was sacrosanct at Otherstide - all the Time Lord couples at the Ball were required to participate, it was an unwritten, unbreakable rule of Gallifreyan society. Tejana could see familiar faces everywhere - Theta and Melana, her young mother's face shining with happiness; Drax, awkwardly squiring his tall, blonde partner; Millennia and Rallon, looking lovingly into each other's eyes, every step in besotted synchronisation.
But, standing beside her, Koschei didn't move. Again, that frisson of unease stole through her. Did he mean not to dance at all? Oh gods, surely not. For the Heir of Oakdown to so publicly flout his social responsibilities would cause a scandal of unprecedented levels; not to mention causing devastating insult to Ushas and her prominent House. Was this how he intended to get back at his father for what had happened in Low Town, by defying him in front of all these people? Tejana felt dizzy just thinking about it, unable even to contemplate the retribution that would descend on his head following such a rash action.
"My Lord, the Great Dance is about to begin," she said.
"I know," he responded calmly, making no effort whatsoever to leave her side, or to rejoin Ushas.
Distantly, far across the other side of the room, Tejana could see the other Time Lady frantically searching the crowd for her absent partner, obviously alarmed that they were about to miss the beginning of the dance. As if feeling the eyes resting on her, Ushas looked around sharply and saw Koschei standing so closely beside Tejana's slender, diminutive figure. Instantly, her face contorted in fury and she began to work her way around the edges of the ballroom towards them, mercilessly elbowing people out of her way as she came. If looks could kill, both Tejana and Koschei would have been struck dead on the spot.
Oh, crap, Tejana thought in mounting apprehension. Just what I don't need!
Whatever this was, whatever insanity had seized him, whatever controversy was about to erupt, she couldn't afford to get drawn into it. She had less than an hour to get to the Adytum on time for the crack as it was.
"I think your partner is looking for you," she told Koschei, backing away from him into the milling crowd, praying she could disappear before Ushas had the opportunity to scratch her eyes out.
However, her retreat was incredibly short-lived; she had only managed a couple of steps when his hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm, preventing her escape. He glanced at the enraged Ushas, who was getting closer and closer, and he smiled tautly. The introductory music grew louder, swelling all around them in an irresistible tide. The vicious expression of triumph on his face sent a stab of fear all the way through her.
"It's fine," he said, grabbing the tray from her hands and slamming it down on a nearby side-table. "I've already found her."
"Wha-?" she began, but before she could finish the word, his hand was in her hair, and to her astonishment, he pulled away the clip that confined it and tossed it to the ground. Her long, copper tresses flooded over her shoulders, pouring down her back in glorious disarray.
"Much better!" he said in satisfaction, caging her in the unyielding circle of his arms and sweeping her out on to the black onyx floor.
Panic and disbelief exploded inside her, nearly stopping both her hearts, as he deftly twirled her through the crowd to the very centre of the dance, the place of honour traditionally occupied by the descendants of the Great Houses and their partners. All around her, she could sense the incredulous, horrified gasps of the other dancers. In their black clothing, the pair of them stood out starkly against the silken kaleidoscope of colours surrounding them, inexorably drawing every eye. Behind her, Tejana thought she heard a furious shriek of rage as Ushas realised what had happened. She tried to struggle, but it was no use, his grip was like iron, his youthful, handsome face as hard as stone.
"Are you insane?" she hissed. "What are you doing?"
"I told you," he said, his blue eyes dark with bitter purpose. "I will never again do anything that son of a bitch orders me to. And after tonight, he will be in no doubt that I mean it. If it's good enough for Lord Oakdown to 'dance' with a Shabogan, then it's good enough for his heir!"
"But this is the Great Dance of the Time Lords!" she exclaimed frantically. "I'm a servant. Every single senior Time Lord on Gallifrey is here! I can't dance this with you in front of all these people...I can't!"
"We both know that's not true. You dance better than most of the Time Ladies here!" he gritted out. "And now the dance has begun and there's no stopping it. So you have no choice, Kat!"
Sure enough, even as he spoke, the orchestra began to play in earnest, unaware of the disturbance rippling across the dance floor. A great white curtain of sound swept over them like a tidal wave and enveloped them. Unable to resist the age-old demand of the music, Tejana found herself moving gracefully with him, her feet automatically finding the steps without any real intention on her part. Realising too late what she was doing, she did her best to falter, to stumble and fail, just as a real servant girl would do in this impossible situation. But the music had her now, and she couldn't seem to break free. This was the Great Dance, one of the most revered and powerful rituals of her childhood – she just couldn't bring herself to profane it, no matter how hard she tried.
Lissome and lovely, she circled and spun, recreating the Web of Time with her feet, her obsidian skirts swirling around her; pulling apart from Koschei, only to return to him time and time again, as if drawn by a magnet. Her body seemed to be spellbound, traversing the intimate, sensual landscape of the dance against her will. It was almost as though they were dancing their own story – the shattering events which formed her past and which would become his future. His eyes were locked to hers, his hunger for her gleaming in the navy blue depths, and she couldn't look away. She knew her own gaze reflected an equal hunger. Now that they were dancing, he barely touched her, his fingers lightly grazing hers as they came together over and over, but desire for him shivered along her skin. The more they danced, the more disconnected from reality she became, and it became harder and harder to remember that she shouldn't be doing this. In her timeline, he was the yang to her yin; she was a part of him and he was a part of her. It felt so right to be here with him, sharing this with him. In breathtaking unison with the other couples, they whirled around the floor in perfect harmony. Together, they were part of a powerful, mesmerising whole; the entire room filling with a strange, soaring, eldritch energy as hundreds of young Time Lords danced the intricate patterns of the Web of Time, in absolute, confident affirmation of who and what they were. And every single step tied another knot in the treacherous net that was gradually weaving itself around her.
But then, out of the corner of her eye, Tejana saw Theta's set, anxious face, glaring at her imperatively over Melana's shoulder as he danced nearby, his blue eyes bright with reprimand and deadly warning. All at once, like a bucket of cold water falling over her head, the insidious spell seemed to break, all the magic of the dance evaporating into thin air. As if waking from a dream, Tejana tore her eyes away from Koschei and became aware of the blurred circle of faces ringing the ballroom. Everyone who was not dancing had pressed as closely as they dared, each of them striving for a front row position to salaciously ogle the unfolding scandal, waiting breathlessly to see what would happen when the dance was over.
They were all whispering excitedly and pointing, Time Lord and plebeian alike. Nothing like this had ever happened before in thousands of years of Otherstide celebrations – a low-bred servant girl, daring to dance the Great Dance of the Time Lords with the Heir of Oakdown! – suddenly, Tejana felt light-headed and sick inside, the devastating reality of her predicament striking her like a punch between the eyes. Koschei had been right. Once the dance had begun, there had been never been any escape for her. Even if she broke and tried to run, there was no way she would ever get past that predatory ring of people without being caught. And she would be caught – the Time Lords would never forgive a breach of protocol as enormous as this. Unless a huge miracle happened, all her hopes of leaving Gallifrey had just been lost. There wasn't a chance in the world she could reach the Adytum before the crack arrived at midnight.
Then they spun past the dais and she realised to her horror that missing the crack was the least of her worries. Lord Oakdown, President Drall and Lord Borusa were all on their feet, staring down at them. As expected, Lord Oakdown appeared almost rabid with fury at the humiliation of his House, while President Drall looked appropriately grave and shocked. But it was the expression on Borusa's face that chilled her to the very bone. While the eyes of the other two were fixed on Koschei, incensed and disgusted at his open and blatant defiance of everything the Time Lords stood for, Borusa's narrowed gaze was concentrated solely on Tejana, watching every move she made, his expression both assessing and calculating. Immediately, she knew he wasn't even slightly interested in the potential disgrace of the House of Oakdown. True to form, he had already seen past that; his shrewd, brilliant mind homing in on the one essential fact his distracted colleagues had overlooked - the sure and certain knowledge that no Shabogan servant girl could possibly be attuned enough to the Web of Time to dance the steps of Otherstide the way Tejana was.
An avalanche of fear tumbled down on her, burying her in despair. He knew. It was all there in those cold, ice-blue eyes. He knew she was a Time Lady.
Oh, gods, she thought to herself, you selfish young idiot, Koschei, what have you done?
Another author's note:
If anyone's interested in hearing the music of the Great Dance, go to Youtube and check out the track "Blackheart" from Two Steps From Hell's album "Skyworld" - and if you can't see the Time Lords dancing out the patterns of the Web of Time while listening to that, you have no imagination X)