Author's note: Timeline: ancient Gallifrey, under the rule of the Pythia
Summary: "Forget what you can't help."
His was an ill-omened birth. When he cried for the first time, edderlobs and gold-spotted helimanders fell from his mouth. The family begged for a blessing from a passing monk, but he only gave the child a name that was also a warning: Anicca, meaning "Impermanence."
They carved a cradle from driftwood washed up out of the Vortex, hoping to bind him with its petrified centuries. The cradle burst into branch and leaf, a jungle growing in the nursery.
The family cut down the trees and dosed the boy with potions to calm his mind. A circus of imaginary children settled in their heads, singing prophecies and laughing ominously.
Enough was enough. The Matriarch locked the boy in an egg inside a chest inside a tree inside a whale in the void between the stars, then erased every memory of him from the world.
Inside the egg the boy dreamed. Over the years, his thoughts layered one over another until he had built a house out of his memories and imagination, a world bigger than the shell that imprisoned him. A house with a door.
One day, someone from outside, someone who was not afraid of prophecies...
...opened the door.