For significantowl
Title: Of Magick
Author: Guess who?
Recipient: significantowl
Fandom/Pairing: Doctor Who - Ten/Martha
Rating: G
Length: c.1,700 words
Summary: The Doctor wants to prove a point.
Author’s Notes: Set early in Series 3, somewhere soon after ‘The Shakespeare Code’. Thank you to my trusty beta-readers!
* * * * *
“Here we are,” the Doctor exclaimed, a wide smile lighting up his face as the TARDIS came to a halt wherever, whenever.
“Where?” asked Martha hopefully, grinning back at him despite herself and the falling sensation in her stomach. “You did say one trip, remember?”
“Yeah, well… this is technically just an extension,” he replied, running his hand through his already ruffled hair as he turned away from her, “to prove a point.”
“What point?”
He ignored that as he rummaged around in a cupboard at the back.
“Here, put this on,” he said, as he tossed something grey and bulky towards her. He swung something similar around his shoulders and headed enthusiastically towards the TARDIS door, and she followed suit.
“Where are we?” Martha repeated as they stepped out of the police box door into six inches of snow. She shivered and pulled the cloak tightly around her. He glanced back, the corners of his mouth curved up in a smirk that caught her breath.
“Well, d’you remember all the questions you had after we visited Will? About witchcraft and the like?”
She nodded.
“As I told you then, everything in human legend is based on fact. Not necessarily the way it’s told, mind, but fact nonetheless. C’mon.”
He stalked off through the snow, and she followed.
It was night, and as her eyes grew accustomed to the light, or lack of it, she could see that they were walking down a hillside towards something dark - trees, she realised, and lots of them. Near the edge of the wood, or forest, or whatever it was stood a round, thatched hut, smoke spiralling from the chimney, a dull light in the windows. The Doctor didn’t seem to be heading towards the hut, but rather into the forest itself. He paused as he reached the edge of the bank of trees and turned to her.
“Guessed where you are yet?” he asked.
She took a look around her, but couldn’t sense any familiarity about the place at all, just a small, nagging feeling that she ought to know. But the more she looked at the trees, the less she liked the look of them - the darkness there seemed more than just dark: sinister, foreboding. She shook her head, still looking around.
Just then, the clouds parted and the moon emerged from behind them. Martha gasped. One the hillside opposite the moon lit up a large structure, an array of turrets, spires, arches, ramparts and windows. Below the building, the moonlight reflected off an expanse of water.
“Oh wow!” she exclaimed, her eyes aglow with wonder. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was… but it can’t be.”
He raised his eyebrows as he looked down at her. “Can’t it?”
She snorted, regaining some of her normal perspective, her logical scepticism.
“Nice try, Doctor,” she grinned. “It’s impressive for a film set though. Who’d’ve thought they’d make Hogwarts so lifelike?”
“Yeah, who’d’ve thought?” he repeated, looking into the distance. Then he sighed, turned and began walking again. “C’mon, I’ve got more to show you - this way.”
He marched off into the forest. The smile fell from her face as she followed once more; he’d seemed disappointed with her response, and she didn’t like that feeling.
As they got under the cover of the trees, the ground cleared of snow, and they had to pick their way more carefully over tree roots and fallen branches. Without the moon to light their path it was a deeper blackness than Martha had ever known, and she tripped and stumbled a lot. The Doctor, however, seemed as sure-footed as ever. From time to time he paused and listened intently before adjusting direction and continuing deeper and deeper into the forest, Martha following in his wake. They reached a clearing where the snow had once more reached the ground through the trees. The reflected moonlight from the snow made the Doctor’s face seem somehow otherworldly, paled and old. She wondered just how old he was - he’d never said, and she’d never thought to ask before. He seemed so youthful most of the time, so full of life and energy, but at moments like this, when he was still and thoughtful, she glimpsed something older, unfathomably deeper, as if he’d seen the mysteries and tragedies of eons unfurled before his eyes.
They stood at the edge of the clearing in silence a while longer, Martha starting to shiver, even under the thick cloak. Finally she asked, “What have we stopped here for?”
He shot her a warning glance and raised a finger to his lips, and she fell silent again. Then he stepped slowly forward into the centre of the clearing, focussing his attention on somewhere over to their right in the trees. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple. He took a bite - “Mmm, just right,” he murmured - and then held out the rest of it in that direction on the palm of his hand.
There was a rustling, and Martha gasped once more, as something large silvery emerged from the shadows.
“There you are!” said the Doctor in a low, gentle voice, as the creature nervously edged into the clearing. “I was starting to think you didn’t want to be found tonight.”
Martha watched as horse’s head, complete with long, silver horn on its forehead, then pure white body came fully into view. The beautiful creature approached the Doctor and gingerly bent its head to take the proffered apple. It seemed to like apples from the way it ate the fruit with care.
“Martha, come over here slowly,” said the Doctor, still keeping his voice low. She walked over to stand just at his shoulder. The magnificent unicorn watched her closely with its bright blue eyes a she approached, but it didn’t back away.
The Doctor glanced at her, eyebrows raised in query. “Well, what d’you think?”
“It’s beautiful!” she breathed. “A real, live unicorn - I didn’t think they existed.”
“They’re very sensitive creatures,” he replied, “in more ways than one, and they avoid human contact as much as they possibly can.”
“Is it, I mean, are they, um…alien?” she asked. “Just that with everything else that’s gone on these last couple of years, and with everything you’ve shown me, so much seems to not belong here on Earth.”
“Oh they belong here alright, more than most. They’re as old as the Earth itself - and their fate is intrinsically linked with it.”
“You mean, if the planet gets hurt, they get hurt?”
“Something like that. Let’s just say that you humans bring out both the best and the worst in our environment.”
Martha took a step towards the unicorn and stretched out her hand to touch it. It whinnied, half-reared and shied away from her.
“I wouldn’t try to touch it if I were you - like I said, they’re very sensitive,” he warned. “Still, it does tell me something I suspected.”
She looked puzzled, so he continued, digging his hands deep into the cloak pockets, “What stories have you heard about unicorns, then? Like I said, legends are based in fact. You name ‘em, I’ll correct ‘em.”
She thought back to when she was a little girl, back to the days when the sense of magic hadn’t been replaced by facts and logic, to when she’d loved reading fairy tales and mythology. She’d devoured every book on the subject in the local library. Gods and monsters, princesses and beasts, she’d read the lot. But what did she remember about unicorns? Not a lot, actually. Something about being hunted for their horns, and…
“Only girls can touch them and ride them,” she said, “or that’s how I remember it.”
“Nearly right - only *maidens* can master them,” he corrected her. Then he added with a rather mischievous smile, “I didn’t think you’d qualify, somehow.”
She gaped at his audacity in surprise. “Get away with you, you cheeky so-and-so! Thought you’d suss me out, did you? I assume you don’t qualify as a ‘maiden’ either?”
“Special dispensation for Time Lords”, he sniffed. “Not being human sometimes has its advantages. Done this loads of times before.”
He turned to the timid creature and began to speak quietly to it in a language she didn’t recognise. He took another step forward towards it and, with a smile, raised a hand to stroke it. But at his touch the unicorn panicked, rearing up and lashing out at him with its hooves. He stepped back in alarm; clearly he’d not been expecting this reaction. Martha, too, backed off hurriedly. It wheeled round and trotted away to the edge of the clearing again, where it once more turned towards them.
The Doctor seemed shocked into silence. After a minute or so he gathered himself to action and took another step towards the beast, again speaking to it in the unknown language. However, he didn’t try to approach it again. Eventually he sighed, bowed deeply to the animal. It in turn inclined its noble head towards him and disappeared once more into the cover of the trees.
Martha realised she could score points off this if she wanted, but it didn’t seem right to do so, somehow, so she remained quiet as he thoughtfully regarded the spot where the unicorn had been.
“Love is a wonderful, terrible thing,” he said eventually, staring through into some deep nothingness, empty and lost. “Will was a genius in that respect too. Too good to miss, but it marks you forever, indelibly. Even a Time Lord, it would appear.”
She wanted to ask what he meant, but she didn’t want to know either. Instead, she simply drew him into her arms and hugged him, and they stood there intertwined as the snow once more began to fall.
* * * * *
A while later, and the blue police box noisily vanished into the ether. Almost immediately a small, cloaked figure swung down from a nearby tree, and at a whispered word a light ignited from a wand tip.
“Blimey,” exclaimed the Muggleborn student into the darkness. “Just wait until I get back to the Common Room - the others are not going to believe this…”
Author: Guess who?
Recipient: significantowl
Fandom/Pairing: Doctor Who - Ten/Martha
Rating: G
Length: c.1,700 words
Summary: The Doctor wants to prove a point.
Author’s Notes: Set early in Series 3, somewhere soon after ‘The Shakespeare Code’. Thank you to my trusty beta-readers!
* * * * *
“Here we are,” the Doctor exclaimed, a wide smile lighting up his face as the TARDIS came to a halt wherever, whenever.
“Where?” asked Martha hopefully, grinning back at him despite herself and the falling sensation in her stomach. “You did say one trip, remember?”
“Yeah, well… this is technically just an extension,” he replied, running his hand through his already ruffled hair as he turned away from her, “to prove a point.”
“What point?”
He ignored that as he rummaged around in a cupboard at the back.
“Here, put this on,” he said, as he tossed something grey and bulky towards her. He swung something similar around his shoulders and headed enthusiastically towards the TARDIS door, and she followed suit.
“Where are we?” Martha repeated as they stepped out of the police box door into six inches of snow. She shivered and pulled the cloak tightly around her. He glanced back, the corners of his mouth curved up in a smirk that caught her breath.
“Well, d’you remember all the questions you had after we visited Will? About witchcraft and the like?”
She nodded.
“As I told you then, everything in human legend is based on fact. Not necessarily the way it’s told, mind, but fact nonetheless. C’mon.”
He stalked off through the snow, and she followed.
It was night, and as her eyes grew accustomed to the light, or lack of it, she could see that they were walking down a hillside towards something dark - trees, she realised, and lots of them. Near the edge of the wood, or forest, or whatever it was stood a round, thatched hut, smoke spiralling from the chimney, a dull light in the windows. The Doctor didn’t seem to be heading towards the hut, but rather into the forest itself. He paused as he reached the edge of the bank of trees and turned to her.
“Guessed where you are yet?” he asked.
She took a look around her, but couldn’t sense any familiarity about the place at all, just a small, nagging feeling that she ought to know. But the more she looked at the trees, the less she liked the look of them - the darkness there seemed more than just dark: sinister, foreboding. She shook her head, still looking around.
Just then, the clouds parted and the moon emerged from behind them. Martha gasped. One the hillside opposite the moon lit up a large structure, an array of turrets, spires, arches, ramparts and windows. Below the building, the moonlight reflected off an expanse of water.
“Oh wow!” she exclaimed, her eyes aglow with wonder. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was… but it can’t be.”
He raised his eyebrows as he looked down at her. “Can’t it?”
She snorted, regaining some of her normal perspective, her logical scepticism.
“Nice try, Doctor,” she grinned. “It’s impressive for a film set though. Who’d’ve thought they’d make Hogwarts so lifelike?”
“Yeah, who’d’ve thought?” he repeated, looking into the distance. Then he sighed, turned and began walking again. “C’mon, I’ve got more to show you - this way.”
He marched off into the forest. The smile fell from her face as she followed once more; he’d seemed disappointed with her response, and she didn’t like that feeling.
As they got under the cover of the trees, the ground cleared of snow, and they had to pick their way more carefully over tree roots and fallen branches. Without the moon to light their path it was a deeper blackness than Martha had ever known, and she tripped and stumbled a lot. The Doctor, however, seemed as sure-footed as ever. From time to time he paused and listened intently before adjusting direction and continuing deeper and deeper into the forest, Martha following in his wake. They reached a clearing where the snow had once more reached the ground through the trees. The reflected moonlight from the snow made the Doctor’s face seem somehow otherworldly, paled and old. She wondered just how old he was - he’d never said, and she’d never thought to ask before. He seemed so youthful most of the time, so full of life and energy, but at moments like this, when he was still and thoughtful, she glimpsed something older, unfathomably deeper, as if he’d seen the mysteries and tragedies of eons unfurled before his eyes.
They stood at the edge of the clearing in silence a while longer, Martha starting to shiver, even under the thick cloak. Finally she asked, “What have we stopped here for?”
He shot her a warning glance and raised a finger to his lips, and she fell silent again. Then he stepped slowly forward into the centre of the clearing, focussing his attention on somewhere over to their right in the trees. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple. He took a bite - “Mmm, just right,” he murmured - and then held out the rest of it in that direction on the palm of his hand.
There was a rustling, and Martha gasped once more, as something large silvery emerged from the shadows.
“There you are!” said the Doctor in a low, gentle voice, as the creature nervously edged into the clearing. “I was starting to think you didn’t want to be found tonight.”
Martha watched as horse’s head, complete with long, silver horn on its forehead, then pure white body came fully into view. The beautiful creature approached the Doctor and gingerly bent its head to take the proffered apple. It seemed to like apples from the way it ate the fruit with care.
“Martha, come over here slowly,” said the Doctor, still keeping his voice low. She walked over to stand just at his shoulder. The magnificent unicorn watched her closely with its bright blue eyes a she approached, but it didn’t back away.
The Doctor glanced at her, eyebrows raised in query. “Well, what d’you think?”
“It’s beautiful!” she breathed. “A real, live unicorn - I didn’t think they existed.”
“They’re very sensitive creatures,” he replied, “in more ways than one, and they avoid human contact as much as they possibly can.”
“Is it, I mean, are they, um…alien?” she asked. “Just that with everything else that’s gone on these last couple of years, and with everything you’ve shown me, so much seems to not belong here on Earth.”
“Oh they belong here alright, more than most. They’re as old as the Earth itself - and their fate is intrinsically linked with it.”
“You mean, if the planet gets hurt, they get hurt?”
“Something like that. Let’s just say that you humans bring out both the best and the worst in our environment.”
Martha took a step towards the unicorn and stretched out her hand to touch it. It whinnied, half-reared and shied away from her.
“I wouldn’t try to touch it if I were you - like I said, they’re very sensitive,” he warned. “Still, it does tell me something I suspected.”
She looked puzzled, so he continued, digging his hands deep into the cloak pockets, “What stories have you heard about unicorns, then? Like I said, legends are based in fact. You name ‘em, I’ll correct ‘em.”
She thought back to when she was a little girl, back to the days when the sense of magic hadn’t been replaced by facts and logic, to when she’d loved reading fairy tales and mythology. She’d devoured every book on the subject in the local library. Gods and monsters, princesses and beasts, she’d read the lot. But what did she remember about unicorns? Not a lot, actually. Something about being hunted for their horns, and…
“Only girls can touch them and ride them,” she said, “or that’s how I remember it.”
“Nearly right - only *maidens* can master them,” he corrected her. Then he added with a rather mischievous smile, “I didn’t think you’d qualify, somehow.”
She gaped at his audacity in surprise. “Get away with you, you cheeky so-and-so! Thought you’d suss me out, did you? I assume you don’t qualify as a ‘maiden’ either?”
“Special dispensation for Time Lords”, he sniffed. “Not being human sometimes has its advantages. Done this loads of times before.”
He turned to the timid creature and began to speak quietly to it in a language she didn’t recognise. He took another step forward towards it and, with a smile, raised a hand to stroke it. But at his touch the unicorn panicked, rearing up and lashing out at him with its hooves. He stepped back in alarm; clearly he’d not been expecting this reaction. Martha, too, backed off hurriedly. It wheeled round and trotted away to the edge of the clearing again, where it once more turned towards them.
The Doctor seemed shocked into silence. After a minute or so he gathered himself to action and took another step towards the beast, again speaking to it in the unknown language. However, he didn’t try to approach it again. Eventually he sighed, bowed deeply to the animal. It in turn inclined its noble head towards him and disappeared once more into the cover of the trees.
Martha realised she could score points off this if she wanted, but it didn’t seem right to do so, somehow, so she remained quiet as he thoughtfully regarded the spot where the unicorn had been.
“Love is a wonderful, terrible thing,” he said eventually, staring through into some deep nothingness, empty and lost. “Will was a genius in that respect too. Too good to miss, but it marks you forever, indelibly. Even a Time Lord, it would appear.”
She wanted to ask what he meant, but she didn’t want to know either. Instead, she simply drew him into her arms and hugged him, and they stood there intertwined as the snow once more began to fall.
* * * * *
A while later, and the blue police box noisily vanished into the ether. Almost immediately a small, cloaked figure swung down from a nearby tree, and at a whispered word a light ignited from a wand tip.
“Blimey,” exclaimed the Muggleborn student into the darkness. “Just wait until I get back to the Common Room - the others are not going to believe this…”