Let me start by saying that the following oneshot is based very, very loosely around Katy Perry's Dark Horse. No one requested this; this one's all on me. It came on the radio and I thought it would be a good one for these one shots I've been doing, and somehow we ended up here. I kind of got obsessed with doing Doctor Who fairy tale style, and this is the result. It's not my best work, but I'm still pretty happy. Anywhoo, enjoy!
Her grin was terrifyingly feral, he decided. Really, a smile shouldn't be that frightening. Then, neither should a woman. And that was all she was, he reminded himself: a woman. Nothing more, nothing less; no matter what the legends, rumors, and his king said.
Sir John Smith was a knight at for the kingdom of Gallifrey; the kingdom was rich in knowledge and gold, in people and land, and in war. Gallifrey had been at war with the neighboring kingdom of Skaro for close to a decade now. No one remembered why the war started, or even what it was really over; the rumors only said that Skaro had attacked first. But Skaro had gained in strength the past year, and it seemed that Gallifrey's defeat was drawing frighteningly close. As such, the king of Gallifrey, King Harold, had sent Sir John and a few others on—according to John—a wild goose chase.
Legend had it that on the far side of Gallifrey, in the Valley of Powell, there was a witch, a sorceress, powerful enough to end the war with Skaro. They called her Bad Wolf.
John, of course, didn't believe in magic. He said as much to King Harold; but his King had insisted, so Sir John had set out with Sir Mickey and Sir Jack to find the so called Bad Wolf.
It hadn't been nearly as hard to find her as John had thought it would be. The Valley of Powell wasn't particularly large to begin with, holding only one village. The villagers had directed the knights to a cave about a league or so from the village in the middle of a forest.
Honestly, the whole thing struck John as horribly clichéd, but all that mattered to him at that point was finding the damn woman and bringing her back to the castle in Arcadia so that King Harold could see for himself there was no such thing as magic, and they could find a real solution to this war.
The woman in question turned her back on the knights, and made her way around the cave they'd found her in, using a taper to light candles as she went. "So, my Sir Knights," she mused as she walked along, her white robe-like gown glowing in the faint light, "what brings you to my humble abode?"
"You're the 'sorceress,'" John said, trying to keep the sarcasm and derision in his voice to a minimum and failing. "You tell us."
"Oh, I know why you're here," she said breezily, lighting the last candle and turning to face the knights once more. It seemed to John that her hazel eyes flashed gold for a moment, but it must have been a trick of the many candle flames. "I want to know if you know why you're here."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Mickey demanded, watching the woman warily. Mickey had come from a small village himself, and was suspicious of magic. John had tried to explain to him again and again that magic simply wasn't real, but each time Mickey just shook his head in pity, as if John were the stupid one.
The woman, this Bad Wolf, smiled slyly, but didn't answer.
"We, that is, the Kingdom, need your help," Jack offered after a moment of silence.
"With the war with Skaro," she nodded. It wasn't a question.
"It's gone on too long already," Jack agreed, relieved that they seemed to be making progress. He was skeptical about magic, but was willing to consider its existence, provided proof. "Our people are dying. We need to end it, as peacefully as possible."
"Peacefully?" the woman—John simply could not bring himself to call her Bad Wolf; it was too ridiculous—asked, arching an eyebrow. She walked slowly about the room-like interior of the cave; John got the oddest impression she was stalking them, like prey. "Would it not be better to cripple them so fully that they might never challenge you again?" Her eyes swept from knight to knight, watching their reactions. "Kill their women and enslave their children? Destroy their hope?" John's hands tightened into fists. Bad Wolf's eyes settled onto him. "Or perhaps simply wiping them from existence would be best?"
"No one else needs to die," John spat, shaking with rage. "No one else should die. Not for this. Not anymore." He had the strongest desire to hit something. "Come on, we're leaving. She's of no help to us," John ordered, turning on his heel to leave before he could do something he would regret.
"But—" Mickey started, glancing uneasily at the woman, who was watching them with interest.
"Come on," Jack said quietly, pushing Mickey towards the tunnel that led out of the cave gently.
John kept his jaw clenched until he stepped out into the filtered light of the forest, and even then, he found it difficult to release the tension in his body. He calmed himself by stroking the mane of his horse, Susan, for a moment, before pulling himself up into the saddle. "If we hurry, we might make it back before nightfall tomorrow," he called to the other two.
"I've decided to help you."
John's head spun towards the voice, surprised to find the Bad Wolf standing in the mouth of the cave, a small, red sack over her shoulder. Her eyes were on John; he could almost feel the weight of her stare.
"Your help is no longer required," John said through ground teeth.
She rolled her eyes, and moved towards his horse. "I was testing you. You're rather rude, you realize that?"
John blinked. "Testing us," he said flatly.
She nodded. "I have a gift. I know a person's heart; I can tell when they're lying. You were not." She held her hand up to John, apparently expecting to ride with him. John glanced at Mickey and Jack; they nodded. This was, after all, their mission. They couldn't very well return without her, not after they'd actually found her.
Of course, neither of the other men offered to let the witch ride with them. John sighed, and took her hand, pulling her up in front of him. "What, you couldn't just fly there?" He muttered as she settled herself.
She turned her head to flash him a sugary smile. "You're being rude again; it's starting to vex me." Her eyes seemed to flash golden again, and—though he was still sure that was a trick of the light—John decided to remain silent.
As he predicted, they made it back to Arcadia by nightfall the next day. Bad Wolf—she told them to just call her Rose—rode with each of the knight in turn to make sure the horses wouldn't get too tired from the extra weight. Mickey had seemed scared stiff; Jack had seemed to enjoy the experience. Oddly enough, he and Rose got on very well together.
John still grumbled every time she spoke to him, and was still pretty sure the whole adventure was a waste of time. He should have been on the battlefield with his fellow Gallifreyans, fighting. Or with King Harold—who was actually a good friend of his—negotiating a treaty. Not escorting some woman who was selling herself as a sorceress to Arcadia where she would be forced to reveal that she couldn't actually do magic because magic wasn't real.
It was not a pleasant trip.
John led the way to the throne room where they found King Harold speaking quietly to an adviser; the adviser scurried from the room as the quartet entered. "My liege," John bowed, as did Mickey and Jack. Rose chose not to, instead pacing slowly towards King Harold, her eyes narrowing as she walked. "What are you doing?" John hissed as she passed him, still kneeling as he was. She ignored him.
"You are they Sorceress Bad Wolf?" King Harold asked after his moment of initial shock at the lack of manners the woman was displaying passed.
"I am."
"And you have come to aide us in stopping this bloody war?" Harold continued, watching Rose in a manner almost as predatory as her own.
"I have. But first, tell me this, your highness," she paused for a moment, and cocked her head to the side. She had walked much closer to Harold than John was comfortable with, and he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, just in case. "Why is Gallifrey at war with Skaro?"
Harold watched her for a moment, his fingers tapping a quick rhythm on the arm of his throne. "They attacked us, unprovoked, nearly a decade ago now. We are merely defending ourselves," he said smoothly.
Rose bared her teeth—there was no other way to describe the action. "Do not lie to me!" She growled, stalking a pace closer. John rose from his kneeling position to move a bit closer, his hand tightening on his sword. "I know your heart, your highness. I ask again. Why is Gallifrey at war with Skaro?"
"They attacked us! I had no choice!" Harold snapped.
"Wrong answer." The gold that John had thought he had seen in Rose's eyes twice before appeared in full force, bleeding out from her eyes as she raised a hand towards Harold. John yelled and went to run at Rose, pulling his sword free as he went, Mickey and Jack following. Without so much as a glance, she threw her free arm towards them, and the three knights found themselves immobilized.
"I am the Bad Wolf," Rose said, her voice flat and echoing. John shivered, and struggled against the magic that held him in place. "I see all that was, all that is, all that ever could be, and I see your heart. Tell me the truth!" She commanded.
"They are an abomination," Harold spat, wheezing and clutching at his throat. His eyes showed faint traces of gold as well, and John realized she was forcing him to speak. "They were doing terrible things there…inhuman things…they had to be stopped, they had to be destroyed…"
"And why did you bring me here?" There was anger in Rose's voice now, a rage that was ancient and tired and it filled John with fear.
"To destroy them…I was going to convince you to wipe them all out…" Harold croaked.
Rose sneered. "You are tiny." She closed the hand that she had held out toward him, and Harold collapsed, stiller than any living body could possibly be.
Rose turned to face them, and John realized she wasn't Rose at the moment. Rose was the woman who had ridden to Arcadia with them, who had teased Mickey and laughed with Jack. The being before them was the Bad Wolf, the Sorceress, the Witch. And she was furious.
"The blood of so many innocents has watered the fields of this land and filled its coffers," she growled, her voice still monotone and echoic; as if there were many of her talking at once. "No more."
She lowered her hand and John felt control of his body slam back into him, almost dropping him to the ground. By the time he had steadied himself, she was gone.
"Where'd she go?" John shouted, sheathing his sword and spinning around widely, looking for her.
"There!" Mickey shouted from by the window. John and Jack ran to join him, and looked out. Looming over Arcadia was Mount Perdition, and on one of the cliffs hanging over the town, large, black storm clouds were gathering at an impossible rate.
"And I thought she couldn't fly," Jack muttered.
"Not the time!" John yelled as he ran for the stables.
"You're not going into that?!" Mickey yelled behind him.
"Someone's got to!" John pulled the reigns of his horse from the startled hostler, and leapt on Susan's back, urging her into a gallop. He raced for Mount Perdition, and muttered prayers as he watched the storm grow. He rode Susan as far up the mountain as she could go, but soon had to abandon her to climb the mountain himself.
"Rose!" he yelled, pulling himself onto the cliff where she stood, arms raised to the sky, golden light spilling from her eyes and finger tips as she summoned the storm that would surely destroy all of Gallifrey. "Rose, stop!"
"Why?" the voice of Bad Wolf demanded, her eyes never leaving the storm. Lightning danced through the clouds, throwing odd shadows on her face. "So many innocents…so much death…all because of you and your warriors…why should your fate differ?"
"Rose…" John tried to push closer to her, but a fierce wind held him back, kept him from being able to reach her. "Rose, listen to me!" He shouted over the wind. "We didn't know! We didn't know that Skaro was innocent!" He pleaded. "We were following orders, we were listening to our king!"
Rose didn't move, didn't acknowledge him in any way. Above them, first one, then two, then three funnels started growing, stretching towards the ground like reaching fingers. John stared at them in panic for a moment before looking back at Rose.
"Remember back at the cave?" He called as inspiration struck. "You said you knew my heart! You said you knew I was telling the truth! Listen to that now, Rose, use your gift!"
For the first time, Rose's eyes flickered down from the sky and to John, then back to the sky again.
Encouraged, John kept on. "Those people down there, they're as innocent as Skaro in all of this! They are women and children, old men. People who never fought in this war and people who didn't know what they were fighting for! Will you kill them and be as bad as those you're seeking to punish?"
Rose's arms faltered, and the funnels started to dissipate. "Someone must be punished…" she whispered, and it was almost her voice, not Bad Wolf's; but it still had that echoic quality that made it ethereal.
"He was, remember?" John said hurriedly, finding the wind had let up enough to let him slowly edge closer. "King Harold. You k—you stopped him, made sure he could never harm anyone again." He stopped himself from saying 'killed' at the last moment; he had the feeling that 'killed' might be the wrong word. "Rose, please, don't hurt those people."
Slowly, Rose's arms dropped, and the wind stopped blowing completely. The clouds broke apart to reveal the sun, and Rose dropped to her knees, holding her head in both hands.
John hurried over to her, his hand going automatically to his sword. He stopped just beside her, still a few paces away, and hesitated, unsure. Should he arrest her? Execute her? She had killed his king and threatened to destroy the kingdom…on the other hand, she had revealed King Harold's plan to eliminate Skaro for no reason other than he thought them a crime against nature. With Harold gone, the war should be able to end with little to no further bloodshed. But still…
"Go ahead," she said dully, not looking up. John flinched. "I killed your king. I almost killed thousands of people. I know what I deserve."
John blinked for a moment, before he made his decision. He took a moment to steel himself, then rammed his sword back into its sheath with a decisive clunk. Rose flinched at the noise, and looked up. For the first time, John got to see what confusion looked like on her face; he rather enjoyed it, if he was being honest.
"I think there's been enough death for now," he said quietly, and offered her a hand to help her up. Rose blinked at him for a moment—evaluating him, he was sure—before she took his hand and stood up.
"Thank you," she said quietly. She watched him for a moment, then looked down at Arcadia.
"What will you do now?" John asked, watching the city as well. People where spilling out of their houses and into the streets.
"I don't know. But I don't think I can go back to Powell. Too many people know of the Bad Wolf. It would be better if she didn't surface again."
John thought he had never agreed with a statement more.
Five years later and everything was quiet. Lady Romana, Harold's cousin, had stepped in as ruler of Gallifrey. Under her rule, the war with Skaro had come to its official end and both countries were recovering well.
Rose had found a home at the edge of the Forest of Tardis; it was far enough from Arcadia that she could live the solemn life she'd had before, but not so far that John couldn't come visit her. After fixing a few herbal recipes for some of her ill neighbors (and given her distance from town, neighbor was a loose term), she opened an apothecary shop.
John was given the title of Oncoming Storm for his bravery in stopping the Bad Wolf. Of course, whenever anyone brought it up, he insisted the Bad Wolf was not actually a bad person; she'd only wanted to help. She just…hadn't gone about it in the right way. He also made sure no one but Mickey and Jack knew Rose was the Bad Wolf.
"Rose, have you got anything for bruises?" John called, turning to shut the door as he walked into the part of Rose's home that served as the shop. "Susan threw me yesterday, and it hurts like a—Rose?"
Rose stumbled into the room, her face pale. Her hazel eyes flickered around the room for a moment before they landed on John. "J-ohn?" she muttered, then fell.
John ran over to her, catching her head before it could collide with the ground. "Rose?" John asked, frantic. "Rose, what happened?"
"Got…got my ingredients mixed up…" she murmured, blinking slowly. "Poisoned m'self. Gonna…sleep…" her eyes started to drift closed, and John shook her, waking her up.
"Sleep? Just sleep, right? Be right as rain in a few hours?" He demanded, slapping her cheeks a little when her eyes started to drift shut again.
"Nuh uh…" she frowned. "Eternal sleep. Body preserved…mind there…just asleep…"
"How do I reverse it? What's the antidote?" John demanded, his eyes darting around the room, wondering just how good his potion making skills were.
"'S not one….true love's kiss…" she smiled dopily, her eye lids drooping again. "Just the way you like it, nice and clichéd…"
John blinked at her for a moment, trying to figure out if she was serious or if it was the poison talking. He shook her again, and her eyes popped open, but even he could tell that little trick wasn't going to work much longer. Hesitantly, half positive it wouldn't work, he started to lean over her, moving his lips closer to her.
"Won't work." She murmured sleepily, pulling him up short. "I know your heart, remember?" She smiled at him sadly before her eyes drifted shut.
"Rose." He shook her, but her eye lids weren't budging this time. "Rose!" He yelled, slapping her cheeks. She was still breathing, her heart still beating, but she wouldn't wake up. John kept at it for a while; long past when he realized how futile it was. Eventually, he just settled for holding her to his chest, running his hands through her hair gently every so often.
John set up her body on the counter she used to prepare her remedies. The villagers made the trek to her home often to bring her flowers, brush her hair, and keep the dust from covering her still form. Rose had helped many people during her stay near the Forest of Tardis, and they were quick to remember her kindness.
John came as often as he could, which was not as often as he liked. Romana, bless her, let him leave much more frequently than would normally be allowed. He usually just sat with her and held her hand. Most days he talked to her. Some days he just clasped her hand to his forehead in prayer.
It went on for months. Every day he saw her still lying there, as if she were doing no more than taking an afternoon nap, John's heart sank a little further. He hadn't been able to save her…and she hadn't been able to save herself. Since the end of the war with Skaro, Rose had gone easy on the magic. She could use some without waking the alternate persona that was Bad Wolf, but she didn't like to risk it. But John felt the Wolf should have made an appearance when Rose was poisoned…surely she was strong enough to remove the effects…
John sat beside the table nearly a year later, holding Rose's hand, and stroking the back of it with his thumb absently. "I've been doing research, you know," he told her still form. "On this whole true love's kiss business." Somehow, even despite the circumstances, he couldn't stop the snort of derision after the clichéd phrase. "It would have had to have been someone you knew before the spell, someone who you would have loved and who would have loved you in return," he continued, almost conversationally. "So that limits it quite a bit. Not really one for people, are you? But I went through a list of everyone you know. Or, at least, everyone who comes to visit you. And when you rule out the children, the old, the women—and I'm doing that on a guess, mind you, you could be like Jack for all I know—there aren't a whole lot of people to choose from. I ruled out Jack and Mickey, too, just because they seemed unlikely. And of the men who remained on the possibility list, most of them are already married, so I think it's safe to say they're no goes, too." He was rambling, and he knew it. But there was something comforting about talking to her, even as she was. Besides, she'd said her mind would remain intact; maybe she could hear him.
"But there's still me." He turned his head from where he'd been staring out the window to consider her. "I know, I know. 'I know your heart, remember?' I've thought about that a lot. You know my heart. And somehow from that you got that me kissing you wouldn't work, wouldn't save you." His grip on her hand tightened. "Well, here's what I think. I think that, maybe just this once, I know my heart better than you. I think you might be wrong." He smiled, giddy. "Bet you never thought the day would come, did you?"
He stood, and leaned over her body, watching her face for a moment. "Please come back to me," he murmured, the plea almost a prayer in and of itself. Slowly, so scared that it wouldn't work despite his insistent words, John pressed his lips to Rose's still, cool ones.
He wasn't sure what he expected. Some sort of dramatic fireworks display as Rose gasped awake and rose from her bed and leapt into his arms, he supposed.
It was much quieter, slower. At first, he thought it hadn't worked at all. Then she twitched. Her nose wrinkled the slightest bit. Her eyes moved a bit beneath their lids.
And then she opened her eyes.
John kissed her again from the sheer relief of it all, the joy.
"Good morning to you, too," she mumbled sleepily as he pulled back. She pushed herself into a sitting position, moaning as she moved, and making John—who'd been hovering still—move back a bit to make room. "That was not fun. I don't want to ever do that again," she complained. "Sleep for a year, that is," she added hurriedly, seeing a flash of hurt cross John's face. "Not kissing you. That can keep happening."
John grinned broadly and pulled her into his arms, planting his lips firmly on hers. "What I want to know," he murmured, his forehead pressed to hers and his eyes closed. "What I want to know, is how you managed to poison yourself in the first place."
Rose groaned, and John could feel the puff of air on his face. "I mixed up the ground mint with the ground rosemary."
"Rosemary?" John asked, pulling away from her incredulously. "All of this because of some rosemary?"
"Never underestimate the power of a good seasoning, John," Rose said briskly, swinging her legs over the side of the table. She landed with a groan and had to immediately steady herself on the table, her legs weak from a year of disuse.
John grabbed hold her, and helped her walk a few shaky steps. "Don't suppose there's any convincing you to take this slow?" Rose chuckled and kept moving. "Didn't think so," John muttered.
"Thank you," Rose said abruptly, as they slowly paced the room, getting Rose used to being on her feet again.
"For what?" John asked innocently.
Rose elbowed him in the ribs. "I could hear you, you know. All those days you came to talk to me? I could hear you…" she said softly. John glanced down at her, but her head was tilted so that he couldn't see her face. "I'm glad you chose to listen to your own heart instead of me."
"Yeah…well…glad you were wrong, I guess," John said, a bit uncomfortably. Kissing was all well and good, but this was moving dangerously close to feelings territory. John always seemed to botch it up when it came time to talk about feelings.
"I wasn't wrong," Rose protested, knocking into his side a bit. John raised an eyebrow at her. "No, really, I wasn't! When I first fell asleep, if you had kissed me, it wouldn't have worked, because you had too much doubt. You loved me, and I you, but you didn't want to let yourself love me, and so you couldn't fully. It was only after I'd been asleep for several months that it would have worked. And even then, it took you a few more months still to work up the courage!"
John stared at her for a moment; the two had long since stopped walking about the room, but John was still holding her close, supporting most of her weight. "You mean to tell me I could have woken you up months ago?"
"Yep," Rose said, popping the p. "And let me tell you, it was a long few months on my end."
John led her to a chair and let her sit down, before immediately stepping away, running a hand through his hair and frowning. "Rose I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"
"Hey," Rose said softly, leaning forward to take his hand and tug him towards her. "I was kidding. I didn't mind waiting. I love you, okay? I love you and I'm very thankful that you loved me enough to wake me up. So don't ever feel bad about how long I was asleep."
John nodded silently, and put his palm to her face. Rose leaned into his touch, and John started stroking her cheek absently with his thumb. "You love me," he mused. He grinned widely, and Rose smiled back. Bending over, he kissed her again, but good and properly this time.
It may have taken them awhile to get the ball rolling, but their happily ever after was in sight, and they were more than willing to take the slow rout to get there.
Thanks to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed. If you have any songs you'd like me to try and write off of, feel free to submit them in a review!
Until next time!