WARNING: This chapter contains violent situations. There is nothing too graphic, but if that is a trigger for you, you may want to skip this. Feedback is appreciated! Thanks -R

This is my winter song to you. The storm is coming soon; it rolls in from the sea. My voice: a beacon in the night. My words will be your light, to carry you to me. Is love alive? Is love alive? Is love – Sara Bareilles, Winter Song

The chains were biting into her flesh; the skin around her wrists and ankles was torn and raw, chunks of it peeling and pink with blood. Still, she pulled at them, biting her lip to suppress the panicked whimper bubbling in her chest. She shouldn't have wandered away from him. 'Something doesn't feel right,' he'd said. 'Stick close.' And she'd smiled and nodded and slowed her step at the tiniest distraction, bent and studied a plant, gone left when he'd gone right. How many times had she deviated from his plan, traipsing all over new worlds and distant galaxies? Trouble found her but then so did he, his eyes wide with worry, brow furrowed with chagrin, and his arms always so, so happy to see her and comforting and safe.

But this time, this time it had been too long. Days, she thought, maybe more. The stone chamber in which she stood offered no natural light, the dank and drafty space was built with no windows so she had to guess at the time of day, the passing of midnights. She was hungry, perhaps hungrier than she'd ever been, and so very, very tired. The relentless tug of her restraints required that she stand, her bound feet just barely touching the damp rocks below. Occasionally, she would sag as her body cried out in weariness and her eyes would close in a faint of exhaustion, but that nip at her wrists would call her attention in minutes, her bent knees would straighten and she would be upright once again, frustrated tears welling but not falling. The hunger and the sleep deprivation were unbearable yes, but the worst, she found, the worst was her thirst. Her mouth became cottony and her tongue thick. She daydreamed of glasses of water, pools of liquid, straining to remember the last time she'd had a drink: That morning so many days ago, just as they were stepping off the TARDIS she had gulped down some tea. Delicious, life-sustaining tea: she trembled at the thought.

She had been looking for the Doctor when they grabbed her, a hand over her mouth stifled her shriek and another around her waist dragged her away. She had the sense just before they came that something was wrong, a pit forming in her stomach, that eerie feeling that everything was too quiet and still, that she needed his hand in hers right then to know that everything was okay. She wasn't even surprised when they snatched her; she even had the audacity to roll her eyes at her own foolishness. She pictured the Doctor's face when he would arrive, all bemusement and relief and exasperation. They hadn't hurt her, not really. Their hands, big green scaly lumps with three thick fingers, had hooked claws that dug into her a bit, but she didn't think they intended to do her any harm. They had thrown her in this cell and chained her up, never uttering a word and she resolved herself to a few uncomfortable hours. She could hear them moving around outside her area, but she couldn't see them due to all the stone. She felt her first flicker of fear when the door slammed shut and plunged her into utter darkness. Her eyes couldn't adjust to the blackness and so she stood and stared at nothing. 'Find me,' she pleaded silently. 'Come get me.'

Rose was far from being helpless. She prided herself on avoiding the damsel in distress cliché. Sure she got into trouble often, but almost as often she was able to get herself out of it, and sure, sometimes the Doctor had to step in, but she helped him out too on occasion and all in all, she felt it was a fairly equal partnership. It made her cocky sometimes, the sense of power and competence the Doctor had nurtured in her. It wasn't until hours of yanking at the hook in the ceiling, of calling out until her voice was hoarse, of ignoring the hot sting of her own blood, that she slumped and recognized her vulnerability. She was all alone and she was just a girl, a stupid human girl with yellow hair and a big smile, what right did she have to consider herself powerful? What a fool she had been. Her mood fluctuated as she waited, sometimes strength and confidence would well up inside her and she would holler and pull until her muscles strained and shook. When her bladder could not take it anymore and released, she felt something within her break. She shivered in her own waste and for the first time allowed herself to cry. As the days went by, and it really couldn't be that many, she reminded herself, three or four at the most, however, the time between those moments of fire stretched as her body grew weak and fatigued from malnourishment. And she felt afraid and alone and she prayed he was alive.

When the door to her jail finally opened then, on that third or fourth day, she felt relieved to be seeing another living being, even if it wasn't the Doctor, even if it was a pair of eight foot monsters with reptilian eyes and snaggled fangs. She squinted her eyes against the first beams of light and watched as they marched up to her. One of them stood directly in front of her and she gagged a little at his potent smell. He thrust a container to her lips.

"Drink," he said and his voice was not unkind. Rose latched her lips to the cup and tilted her head back, letting the glorious liquid fill her mouth and drip down her throat. She drank until the cup was empty and though she wasn't sated, her eyes widened when the second beast stepped forward and offered her a chunk of meat. Her teeth tore into the food, saliva flooding her mouth. Her restrained hands were unable to lower beyond her head and so she was at his mercy, his yellowed claw scratching her cheek as he dropped bite by bite into her open mouth. She didn't stop to consider what the food was or if there could be poison in it, she barely allowed herself time to chew. A voice at the back of her mind reeled back in disgust at her animalistic behavior, but she ignored it. When everything was gone, she looked up, feeling slightly abashed.

"Thanks," she attempted a smile at the creatures. "That was good." They were looking at her and her face flushed as she realized how she must look and smell, her hair a tangled, unwashed mess, grease smearing her face, her pants ripped and stained with dirt and urine.

"Can I go now?" Her voice cracked with hope.

"No. You are our prisoner."

She licked her chapped lips. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what I've done wrong. Why am I a prisoner here?"

"Trespassing."

"Trespassing? I was trespassing?"

"On the King's land."

"Oh well," she let out a breathy laugh. "I didn't know! I'm sorry I won't do it again! I'm not from here you see-"

"You will be our prisoner until the King decides what to do with you."

Something flared within her. "Well if that's the case, you could at least allow me a bathroom and some food and water! You can't treat people like this even if they are your prisoner!"

They blinked at her and her indignant rage subsided. "Please, please just let me go. I won't bother you again. Look at me, I'm filthy and starving and I'll just leave this place, I swear!" They turned and left abruptly and she howled at the closed door. "COME BACK! PLEASE! COME BACK!"

When they returned a few hours later, they brought a knife. Her stomach, already feeling queasy from the sudden amount of grease after days of nothing, heaved. She pulled desperately at her chains as they approached, trying to back away from them.

"You don't have to do this," she said and closed her eyes, resolving that if she were going to die here, she wouldn't beg anymore.

Her eyes snapped back open as she felt the tear on the cloth of her shirt. She resumed her struggle as the knife ripped off her shirt and through the material of her bra.

"Stop!"

A hand on the back of her neck made her freeze, the nails tracing the tender veins of her pulse.

"Be still."

And so she stood, chest heaving as they cut off the rest of her clothes, leaving her completely naked and shivering before them. Horrible images of rape and mutilation ravaged her mind. She studied their monstrous bodies and scaly skin; they'd tear her apart! She gasped in surprise when they began washing her, bringing in a bucket filled with sods and scrubbing her filmy skin clean. She winced as the soap dripped into her open wounds and blushed as they cleansed around her breasts and between her legs. To her relief, however, their touch never became sexual. One of them dumped out the bath water in a corner and then put the empty bucket between her legs.

"Begin," he grunted. She stared at him.

"What? No. No I can't. Just let me go to the bathroom, please."

He gripped her shoulder so hard she saw stars. "Begin."

Swallowing hard, she began filling the bucket. When she was done, he placed it on the floor directly below her. He pointed. "Bathroom."

"Right. Thanks."

They left her naked and she was alone again for two days. Her body felt physically better now that it was clean and had some food and water, but inside she was chilled to the bone. How long would she be trapped here? How long until the Doctor came for her? What would the King decide to do with her? By the end of the second day, she was once again starving and dehydrated. She had not slept in so long that for stretches of time she passed out, coming to with numb arms and a splitting headache. In the darkness she began to hear things scrambling around her, hiding in the corners. She listened to them whispering and giggling and they filled her with terror. They brushed up against her and she screamed and twisted but could see nothing.

When her door opened again she could barely lift her head.

"Empty that bucket," a woman's voice snapped. "It smells disgusting in here." A pair of slender legs entered Rose's frame of vision and she lifted her gaze to view a feminine version of the aliens, naked just as she was, although the effect was different. She wore a thin, wire crown and her eyes were hard and cruel.

"So, you are the one with the audacity to trespass on my husband's land?"

Rose's lips moved but no sound came out. She swallowed thickly and tried again. "I'm sorry," she croaked. "I didn't know. My name is Rose-"

A strangled cry escaped her as her head whipped to the side. When she looked back, the Queen was wiping Rose's blood from the back of her royal hand.

"How dare you speak to me."

Rose could feel the warmth of her blood coursing down her cheek and dripping onto her breast.

"Were you alone in your transgression or were others in your company on the King's grounds?"

Rose said nothing. The Queen's hand flashed again and Rose slumped against the blow.

"You speak when unprovoked and remain silent when an answer is demanded? What insolence is this? Answer me: were you alone or are there others out there?"

Rose thought of the Doctor, out there looking for her on a planet so obviously full of dangerous and violent creatures. She hoped he had evaded capture and knew in her heart that he was alive, that he would come for her. She met the Queen's eyes.

"I am alone."

The Queen took a step back. "You see how it looks at me?" The males around her shuffled and nodded, and Rose thought she saw a flash of compassion in their eyes. "Give me the device." When they all remained still, she flushed with rage. "I said GIVE IT TO ME!" Someone handed her a long, thin whip. Rose's breath quickened. "I'll teach you manners you ungrateful beast."

At the first lash, Rose cried out. In the ones that followed, tears streamed from her eyes and she struggled for breath. When the Queen finally left, handing the bloody instrument to a soldier on her way out, Rose was barely conscious, her chin tucked against her chest, watching as though disconnected as a river of blood dripped from her toes onto the stone.

"I'm sorry." One of the men whispered, so quietly she almost didn't hear. Her head raised a fraction and she caught his eye. "The Queen is very angry, very bloodthirsty."

"Help me," Rose whimpered.

"We cannot. We are merely guard for the King. But he comes soon and you will know his benevolence."

She was given two more glasses of water and one more serving of food before the King arrived in her cell. In that time, the Queen visited her five more times.

Rose wasn't sure how long she had been unconscious when the door to the room swung open. She tried to look up, but found her eyes couldn't focus and her hair, matted thickly with blood, obscured her view.

"Well hello there," his voice was kind. "Look what she's done to you." Rose winced at the compassion in his voice and peered up at him. Although her left eye was having trouble with dimensions and her right eye didn't seem to be working at all, she took in his form and noted that although he looked like all the other males, he was wearing a crown.

"Are you alright?"

Rose snorted at the question, but it sounded like a sob. She made no answer; she hadn't spoken in days except to scream. The King was looking her over and she knew she must look frightful, her body marred by a crisscross of wounds all in different stages. His eyes darkened and she didn't blame him; she hadn't dared look at herself in a long time but the sight must have been disturbing. Though she was shivering, her face, resting awkwardly against her raised arm felt warm and sweaty, and she had calmly come to the conclusion that infection was raging in her blood.

"Here," he brought a cup to her lips and tilted her head to help her drink. She coughed and sloshed much of the liquid onto herself and him. She braced herself for his retaliation and when none came she blinked at him cautiously. "It's okay," he cooed and smoothed her hair back. Rose's heart lifted at the realization that he was an ally.

Although no sound emerged from her, her lips mouthed the word "please." His smile was gentle.

"It's okay, I'm here now."

A guard appeared in the doorway. "Your majesty, the Queen is ready for you."

His eyes never left Rose's face. "Good."

He made a move to retreat and Rose instinctively followed him, the chains groaning against the strain. He turned back to her, noting the inflamed skin of her wrists. "Relax, girl. I return shortly to release you from your bonds."

At the promise Rose nearly wept and though she was soon plunged back into darkness, she felt the familiar stirrings of hope within her.

That hope was still burning brightly when the Queen entered her chamber. Rose's breath stuck in her throat. No, no! This wasn't what was supposed to happen! Where was the King? The Queen was much too cruel, much too fond of hearing Rose scream, seeing her bleed. The door widened and the King entered. Rose's heart soared, her savior had arrived. The Queen's lip curled in loathing at the faith etched on Rose's face.

"You see what you've done to her?" The King's voice was different than it had been before, harder, angrier. The Queen ducked her head. "You could have killed her. You very nearly did."

He stroked the side of Rose's face and she leaned into the touch. His hand dipped down and found her naked breast, tracing the curve. Rose gasped and pulled away but his taloned hand was insistent, gripping the weight of her flesh and squeezing until she yelped. He withdrew and she swayed uneasily from the ceiling, confused and freshly afraid. When one of his claws dug at the folds of her vagina, she found that the tears which she had believed her body had run out of were still readily available.

"I accept her. Prepare her for me. I will have her first."

When he stomped out of the room the guards advanced on her. She cried out and backed away. One of them, the sweet one who had so genuinely apologized before, raised his arms and approached her slowly, as you would a frightened animal.

"It's okay," he hummed. "You're safe now. The King has claimed you." At her look of bewilderment he continued. "We weren't sure if he would want you or not since you're such a different species. I think he believes you to be exotic."

Rose shouted and pulled at her restraints, terror giving her strength.

"Stop! Stop now!" He smacked her, much harder than the Queen ever had and her vision flickered and went completely dim for a few seconds. "Had he not wanted you for himself you would have been released into the wild and you know what happens to females out there: they're beaten and murdered and eaten. Here you will be allowed to live as long as you serve the King."

Rose's eyes darted over to the Queen, wondering how this woman, and no matter how evil she was, she was still a woman, could allow such atrocities to be committed upon her own sex. The guard followed her gaze.

"Don't worry, now that the King has claimed you, she will not be able to hurt you as much. You'll still be subject to her punishments of course, but your conditions will improve. Females are subservient. The Queen must heed the King's word. She belongs to him. And be certain, he is a good King, he shares. She serves all of us, as is her duty, as will be your duty."

Rose looked to where the Queen stood, silent and tall and naked. She saw now what she hadn't before, what she had been in too much pain to see. She saw the scars and bruises on the queen's skin. Saw bite marks and scratches and fingerprints on her breasts and hips. Their eyes met, Rose's full of horror and realization and the Queen's full of grim satisfaction.

She stepped forward and hissed into Rose's face, "You are his plaything but I am his wife. Let him take out his aggressions and fantasies on your pink flesh that yields so easily. My own body heals and appreciates the reprieve. But if you think for one second that your head will bear this crown, that I will be tossed onto the street to die, that I will allow them to choke the air out of me so that you may benefit from the protection of my role, you are sorely mistaken."

Rose's mind was reeling. This woman who had tortured her was no Queen; she was a sex slave for the King and all his men. Bile rose like acid in her throat. And she was to be made a sex slave as well, lower even than the Queen, to be raped and used by all these monstrous men and then beaten and starved by a jealous and terrified woman. Flashes of the King's voice and actions rang through her mind, stroking her hair, speaking so softly to her. She had been so certain he was being kind, but no, no he viewed her as a pet.

The guard was unchaining her for the first time since her arrival. She slumped to the ground without the pressure holding her up. She felt the blood rushing back to her extremities and lightness in her head. The guard let her rest a moment and there was a flurry of movement as others left the room to obtain the materials needed. Rose sucked in oxygen and tried to grasp at one solid thought, but found it impossible. Her heart was pounding so quickly, her fear ringing through her veins so intensely that she felt no pain, only light as air, and all she could focus on was how dead the Queen's eyes were, lifeless and hopeless and satisfied.

The guard gripped her arms and made to lift her and suddenly Rose could picture the Doctor so clearly in her mind: his laughing face and tousled hair, the solidity of his hand in her own, and she steeled herself against all of this, against the powerlessness of the last two weeks and the whippings and humiliation and the cruelty. The Doctor would never stand for it and neither would she. If he couldn't be here to stop them, she would rescue herself or die as a free woman.

Seeming to sense her resolve, the guard hesitated and, moving solely on instinct, Rose swung her arms up and over using the weight of the chains to simultaneously knock the guard back and bring her to her feet. She and the Queen stood looking at each other for a long moment, both breathing heavily.

"Go straight through the doors then turn left and follow the corridor to the end," their eyes never left each other's. "Head toward the woods or they'll get you right away."

Rose was off and running before she could think, her bare feet slapping against the stone, she slipped and stumbled at the turn but was up again almost instantaneously, feeling no pain, no pain at all and thinking that maybe she wasn't so hurt, maybe she was going to make this. Her pounding heart was thundering in her ears, the only sound she could hear, and the door was a few feet in front of her and she dug deep within her, thinking no lucid thoughts except: Doctor, Doctor, Doctor. And then she was there, and she had a moment to worry that it might be locked before she was out in the blinding sunshine and running across sharp rocks. There was a shout behind her and she lost her footing, falling to her knees. She didn't look back, too afraid to see them gaining ground. Instead, she rose and made for the tree line. Something whirled by her head, striking a tree trunk next to her, but she did not slow.

She ran and ran, lungs burning, ducking under branches and jumping over logs. She was beginning to tire, breath coming out in gasps, feet bleeding, and her legs screaming at her to stop. She continued, however, sure that at any moment they were going to grab her and she would surely die.

"Rose!"

She ran, blind, twigs scratching at her face. The ground was damp with a light covering of snow, the leaves on the forest floor soggy so she slid and tumbled, rolling on the ground, rising covered in muck and whirling in confusion, uncertain in which direction she was headed.

"Rose!"

She took off again, a stitch in her side, head throbbing. The forest was spinning around her and she had a sudden, bizarre sensation that she was going to vomit. Her feet were flying beneath her, the foliage a blur on her sides. For the first time, she dared a look behind her and saw nothing but the woods.

Abruptly, all the air was knocked out of her as she ran, full force, into a solid body, arms wrapping around her, halting her forward progression. She screamed and thrashed, throwing her fists and legs as forcefully as she could, biting and snarling, practically foaming at the mouth.

"Rose! Rose! It's okay, it's me, I've got you!"

She froze in his arms. "Doctor?"

"Rose." She slumped against him, suddenly exhausted and aching.

Voices approached, loud and angry and she clutched the Doctor tightly.

"Please," she whimpered, eyes searching his face. "Please don't let them get me."

His arms were secure around her and as they approached, he took in her bloodied and bruised nakedness. He shrugged off his coat and tucked it gently around her shoulders so that her modesty was regained. Taking her face in his hands, he smiled tenderly.

"You're safe now, you understand? I'm here." She nodded briskly and then they were upon them.

A crowd of about twenty stood before them, jostling each other and shouting. The Doctor had his arm around her, supporting her weight.

"Enough," the Doctor's voice was calm and quiet, a deadly combination that Rose recognized. "Who is in charge here?"

The King stepped forward, the Queen taking delicate steps to stand beside him.

"Right then, we're leaving. I suggest you don't try to stop us and I'll show you some undeserved mercy."

The King took another step toward them. "You cannot take her, she is my concubine. She belongs to me."

The Doctor's eyes flashed. "You will not touch her," he gritted out. "She is Rose Tyler and she belongs to no one but herself. This is your warning: stay away from us, let us leave and no one will die here."

At the silence that followed, he turned Rose to go. Furiously, the King reached out and grabbed her arm. Rose cried out and the Doctor whirled, knocking the King's hand away from her and pulling out his sonic screwdriver. The King sneered at him and raised his own weapon, a sophisticated looking gun.

"Are you willing to die over an insignificant whore?"

The Doctor's jaw was clenched. "I did warn you," he said. "I won't let you touch her. Any of you."

The King's finger tensed on his trigger and the sonic glowed a brilliant blue. Suddenly, and without warning, the weapon in the King's hands exploded, taking him along with it. The Queen screamed and dropped to her knees. Rose's blood was on her skin. The Doctor's eyes narrowed.

"Did you hurt her?" He took a step toward the woman. "DID YOU HURT ROSE?"

Beside him, Rose's eyes were squeezed shut. Her hand, trembling and dirty, softly touched his. "Don't," her voice was a whisper. "Leave her. Let's leave, please."

Immediately, the Doctor's arm dropped. He picked Rose up, her arms wrapping around his neck and they walked away without looking back.

The medical bay on the TARDIS was well stocked and the Doctor well-versed in injuries such as the ones Rose had sustained. Still, his hands shook slightly as he unwrapped her from his coat. Her body was layered with blood and dirt so that he couldn't tell the extent of her injuries. Rose flittered in and out of consciousness, realizing she was naked for the first time in front of the Doctor, but unable to muster up the energy to care.

"Doctor…" she moaned and he held her hand. He was trying to keep his face blank but she saw all the emotion in his eyes: the rage and sadness and guilt. She made a move to cover his eyes, to shield him from what was causing him pain, but her coordination resulted in her hand resting on his cheek, stroking, feeling the proof that he was real. "I knew you'd come," she whispered and smiled through the pain, letting herself be carried away, knowing the Doctor would heal her.

"Where were you?" It was meant as a casual question, a gentle expression of concern for what happened to him while they were apart, but it came out as an accusation, full of fury and betrayal. She had been awake now for three days, the infection gone, bruises and cuts almost healed with the help of the TARDIS technology. The Doctor was with her every moment, feeding her soups and breads, holding her hand, and making her smile. All the while his watched her with a look of desperation.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry." And she knew he meant it, knew it was not him she was angry at, that really she was not angry at all, but terrified and shamed. And just like that, she was in his arms, face pressed against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and whispered like a mantra that he was looking for her and that he was sorry, that he would keep her safe. His hands pulled her tighter against him and when they brushed against the scars on her back she did not flinch for the first time in weeks at someone else's touch. She felt the first tiny fissure of healing within her.

"I know you were. I know. You'll always find me."

She realized in that moment that she was not the same anymore, that it had been coming for some time, that she was not that nineteen year old silly thing who took his hand and ran without a care in the world, without a second thought or knowledge to build fear. And he was not the same either, no longer with the goofy grin and the skipping feet and eyes full of wonder. Sometimes those past selves emerged, revealing themselves in giggles and stolen moments, but they were changed forever and there would be no going back. But at least they would have each other, she was warmed by the thought of that and she kissed his temple softly and let her lips linger, crossing that invisible line that she never had before and he stilled against her and she could feel his breath stirring against her ear and it was all so innocent and they were so, so damaged. She pulled back and looked at him and he looked so afraid and suddenly he was the child and she was the Time Lord and she smiled and brushed the lines from his face.

"We'll always find each other."

And she was ready for him to help her heal.