Because I'm enthralled with dark Amy/11.
Warning: if you don't like reading fan fiction with the Doctor written as a darker, "despicable" if you will, character, then you probably won't like this. And if you're one of those fans that adores Rory and can't stand a story where he's written in a slightly exaggerated version of Amy's early season five mindset, I have one word for you: run.
"Amy Pond. Amy Pond. Amy Pond."
"What, Doctor?"
"Hello, Amy Pond," he replied, grinning like the madman he claimed to be.
Something in Amy froze and faltered, and she felt her heart beat frantically as some strange, irrational fright danced over her skin. "Why do you keep saying my name?"
"I like your name. It sounds like the name a girl in one of your fairy-tales would have. Amy Pond." The Doctor continued fiddling with the controls absentmindedly, yet she could feel his attention envelop her like a funeral shroud, suffocating and slaughtering her composure.
Something about that moment made her feel very much like the prey of an enormous predator.
"Huh. Never heard that one before," she replied truthfully. She'd heard the occasional joke about her name (who hadn't?), but no one ever spoke of it like that. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel about it.
If anyone else said that to her, Amy would've felt insulted for a moment, then she would've brushed it aside and returned her mind to more important topics, but this was the Doctor; his words haunted her often, and this was no exception.
She was quite certain that she possessed none of the traits of a fairy-tale princess. Save, of course, for the completely irrational (yet somehow justifiable) adoration of a man (well, not really a man...) quite out of her reach. Of course, not even this similarity bought her any favors; unlike the princes of myth and fable, the Doctor would never love her back.
Amy Pond knew this with certainty, knew her affections were begging to be devastated when fixed upon such a being.
And yet, she couldn't stop yearning. It was a very troublesome thing; after all, there was little guarantee her feelings would be returned, much less acted upon (by him, anyway). He trapped her in his castle, his fezzes and bow-ties and tweed impenetrable dragon scales.
If she was to fully align her life with a fairy-tale, then the Doctor definitely wasn't her prince; he was the dragon ensnaring her.
There was a time when she would've bristled at the mere hint of her being a helpless princess, would've snapped and verbally mutilated the person who dared demean her, but now, perhaps she'd merely sigh and walk away, resignation strengthening her steps. Perhaps, the stories were misunderstood by the general population. Maybe the secret to the princess and the dragon's relationship was that she willingly fell into his grasp to escape the prince.
Of course, that wasn't to imply that Rory was a horrible person or fiancé; he wasn't, not really, not in the commonplace or correct definition of "horrible." He did everything right: he never hurt her; never persecuted her; never left her, even during her phases of obsession with the Doctor; never would've called her a weak princess, or made a derogatory comment about her gender. He was the ideal man, the perfect prince.
Just as the Doctor was the perfect dragon.
In his own fashion, the Doctor, her dragon, penetrated the fortresses of her mind, slithered in and out, plaguing her steps and encouraging her obsession, enthralling her so completely that she jumped into his grasp the second he offered himself and his expansive, empty castle to her a second time. It didn't matter that he'd devastated her, didn't matter that he'd come and gone not once but twice, didn't matter that only her mind revolved around his existence.
The allure of a story bound the two creatures; just as she longed for freedom, he longed for fables and friends to... Escape? Heal? Now that she thought about it, Amy didn't really know why he longed, only that he did. Regardless, it was a shared longing of something new that drew them together, that made him take a liking to her, that made Amy adore the thing she called Doctor.
There was a reason the stories didn't focus on the time the princess spent with the dragon, or the logic behind a woman caught between the claws of such a mighty, bloodthirsty beast for an extended period of time. Of course, add magic to the twist, and anyone can conjure explanations easily for her survival: either the beast was enchanted, or she was. Regardless, the stories depended upon a princess trapped and thoughtless, unable to escape. What the situation required was a prince, a warrior to break the magic spell with the only magic his puny flesh could muster—love.
But what if all of that was removed, the magic, the prince, the looming overlord enslaving the captor or the captured? All that remained would be a dragon and a princess, and what usually happened when two things existed alongside each other without one dying?
They developed some sort of relationship. Whether it was positive or negative depended upon too many variables; Amy knew it was foolish to assume one type of relationship would blossom, but she was certain something would happen between the two.
Even with magic in the mix, it only made sense that a princess and her dragon would bond in some fashion. Sure, not every girl had the same mindset as she, but there were hundreds of princess stories; surely at least one would've shared her outlook, her particular curse. This, this was why the time of capture lost so much "screen-time"; call it what you will, Stockholm syndrome, boredom, despair, whatever it could be, a force could drive the two together, and that must not do.
Because such a force was much more alluring, much more sensational, much more emotional than love at first sight, at obligatory displays of courage and chivalry. Such a force might inspire the wrong sort of pity; such a force might dethrone the prince's reign of relationship desirability. People might just look for love in those not entirely noble, not entirely chivalrous and courageous; perhaps more cunning and capricious. People might just look at the dragon with new eyes, might just delve deeper into a character.
"Amy?" The Doctor interrupted as he dashed to the TARDIS' door. "What do you suppose is behind here?"
Schooling her features into playful contemplation and ignoring the screens behind her, Amy pushed off of the controls and strode to where the time lord had childishly plastered himself over the closed opening, limbs outstretched like a sea star. "I don't know, Doctor; what is behind the door?"
"You're supposed to guess," he whined, mouth drooping into a pout.
"That one planet you mentioned with the golden forests and oceans?"
The Doctor's pout deepened into a faint scowl, and Amy knew she'd guessed too extravagantly. "Nope."
"The one with the alien species whose name I can't pronounce?"
The Doctor grinned and snapped together quickly, star fish morphing into an eel, slippery and electric. "Why don't you see for yourself?"
Matching his grin with her smirk, Amy leaned forward, trapping him between her arms as one remained frozen on his right and the other fumbled with opening the door. Their faces were inches away, though their expressions didn't melt into the cliché warmth preceding a kiss, nor did they sharpen with lust or competitiveness or anger or anything Amy'd experienced. His gaze remained happy-go-lucky, empty and uninterested, his playfulness a mask she couldn't peel away.
The door opened, and the Doctor walked backwards confidently (almost tripping over a pebble but catching himself just in time) onto the planet... her planet.
"Earth?" Amy blinked, the sunlight uncomfortably bright. "Why are we on Earth? You lied, Doctor," she reprimanded, her playful scolding cracking to reveal sincere sorrow and a sneaking, growing fear.
"I never lied to you; technically, you humans are alien," he retorted cheekily.
"Why are we here?" Fear clawed up her throat. "Why are we in front of my house?"
"I'm returning you, Amy Pond. It's time you finished bumbling about with an old man like me." His hands tugged on the bow tie, one she'd never seen him wear before. It was darker than night, without patterns or colors other than black.
Dragons can live for centuries, too.
"I don't want to be returned. I don't want to go."
Whatever she said only served to solidify the Doctor's resolve; at her words, he stiffened, his faux joy crumbling in the wake of a strange, alien apathy. Amy knew instantly her influence, if there was any at all to begin with, disintegrated with something she'd said.
Dragons don't give away the princess; dragons hoard and hoard until the prince snatches her away.
Why are you doing this to me? Why are you breaking character?
"You're not safe with me."
"I wasn't supposed to be safe with you. That was the point of me escaping."
Princesses don't live exciting lives. Princesses are trapped. Princesses find freedom in the company of those she cares about.
"Keeping you safe is too important to me."
Keeping me safe is too much of a burden, you mean. You don't want me anymore, do you?
"This isn't supposed to be how it ends," Amy blurted.
The Doctor glanced away from her for a second, as though he understood exactly what she meant and didn't want her to see it. "This isn't a fairy-tale, Amy."
"I know," she lied. "Doctor, I-"
"Amy?" Rory interrupted, his voice loud as it destroyed the distance between him and the two friends. "Amy, what are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be getting ready?" He stopped beside Amy, his hand reaching for and clutching hers as he addressed the time lord. "Oh! Did you know about the wedding or something? Did Amy invite you?"
"Wedding?"
Rory shuffled uncomfortably. "Didn't Amy tell you? Today's our wedding day."
They examined Amy, Rory with confusion and the Doctor with fleeting shock and empty resolve. After a moment of bated breath, the time lord turned back to Rory.
The Doctor chuckled, regret poisoning his outburst. "No, she didn't tell me. I was just saying goodbye. Never got to do that properly last time. Sadly, I'm afraid I can't go to the wedding."
"Oh... Are you sure?"
"Positive," the Doctor replied, rocking back and forth on his feet. "Miss Amy Pond's imaginary childhood friend shouldn't attend her wedding."
"Are you sure?" Rory repeated. "It wouldn't be any trouble, would it, Amy?"
"No, it wouldn't be," Amy replied. Disappointment guiltily flooded her at the disgust coiling in her stomach; she couldn't help but notice the vast difference between the two when they spoke her name. Until that moment, Amy didn't hear the fairy-tale aspect of her name, not until she heard it tumble awkwardly from Rory's lips.
Good God, it wasn't the name itself, it was the way it sounded wrapped in lust and love, respectively. It was the way it fell from their lips, the way it carefully danced through teeth and tongue. It was the way Rory's sounded despairing, cloying, and the way the Doctor's sounded dashing, coy. It distorted the roles of her boys, so much so that she couldn't tell who was who, who was the true dragon, the true prince, or even the true princess.
A cheerful, choppy chuckle interrupted her. "It seems Miss Amy Pond-" (stop stop stop saying my name like that) "-doesn't agree with you, Rory."
Amy glared at the Doctor as she reached for his ear and dragged him away from her fiancé. "Excuse us for a second, Rory."
The Doctor stuttered and stumbled awkwardly behind her, his loud, fumbling ow-ow-ows masking Rory's awkward mumbling.
Amy released the Doctor and crossed her arms. "You're not leaving me here. You're not abandoning me."
"I'm not abandoning you; I'm protecting you. It's dangerous, what I do."
Frowning, she loosened her arms slightly. "This doesn't sound like you; you don't usually obsess over that. What's gotten into you?"
"You don't know me as well as you think you do, so stop acting like you do. I'm not human; I'm not bound to you like you think I am. You have a man who loves you right behind you, and you're throwing that away. My life isn't as glamorous as you think it is, and it isn't something you should take lightly. I'm not your escape."
"No, you're my bloody captor," she snapped.
Regret softened the Doctor's sharp features, and Amy stepped closer, closer until she saw the outlines of that damned mask, until she saw the imaginary lines where his regret faded and the emptiness resided. Like a thunderclap, understanding lit the darkness of her ignorance and imagination.
He didn't care. He never cared, not really. She was his plaything, his fill-in-the-blank companion. She was absolutely nothing to this man, not anymore. Whatever importance she'd held in his life vanished.
Whatever reason she'd stepped forward for faded into the unknown, and she stood, awkwardly close, without justification. Words escaped her; no conceivable, rational reaction reached her frantic mind. Overreact, and Rory would come running. Underreact, and the Doctor wouldn't understand her anguish.
Don't you get it? He's never going to understand, no matter what you do, logic screamed. He doesn't care!
I don't care. Anything is better than this.
Another thunderclap of enlightenment blinded Amy. Even now, even after everything, she didn't want to be released from the dragon's hold.
She'd rather die by him than live life with Rory.
"Please. Please don't leave me here."
At last, something flashed in the Doctor's eyes, some strange darkness fluttering shyly in the edges of his gaze. "You're not coming with me, Pond. This chapter is at its closing."
"I thought this wasn't a fairy-tale."
"Speaking like it is one seems to be the only way to get through to you," he snapped, his tongue of fire decimating illusions and imagination, leaving charred but surviving desperation to wallow in the wreckage.
"I can't live here. I can't be here." I'd rather die.
The Doctor smiled sadly. "Goodbye, Pond."
Strolling to the TARDIS, the time lord snapped his fingers, opening the door and slithering inside without further acknowledging the human witnesses. Before Amy could surge in after him, Rory's arms wrapped around her waist lovingly.
"He'll be alright, love," Rory said. They stood in silence together as the TARDIS faded away, the silence unbearable until Rory sighed in despicable relief. "There now, we've got a wedding to get ready for. I'm sure everyone inside the house is waiting to help you get ready, so I'll leave you be." Kissing her on the cheek and loosening his hold, Rory slipped away from Amy with agonizing slowness.
Amy stood alone, the day's events unfathomable. How could she possibly continue her life like nothing happened? How could she marry that man when she couldn't even move her feet away from where the Doctor abandoned her?
Life, however, didn't rest for anything, especially not for a ginger princess on her wedding day. Somehow, she found herself inside the house without assistance, found herself trudging through the monotonous schedule without trouble outside of her thoughts; there were no technical difficulties. Her makeup was impeccable, her dress beautiful; the ceremony was brief, the guests subdued, the cake decent. She didn't laugh much, but she didn't cry, either.
She refused to cry.
Sooner rather than later, the happy newlyweds found themselves driving away from the wedding in silence wrapped in mutual tension, one centered on the night itself, and the other on the looming, unbearable future.
And the dragon lived happily ever after.