[Doctor Who: Drabble] "Ponds to the Rescue" [Amy/Rory, Doctor/River, G]
Title: Ponds to the Rescue
Prompt: writerverse challenge #23 weekly quick fic #7 (“The place where you made your stand never mattered. Only that you were there… and still on your feet.” (Stephen King) ‘time,’ ‘dystopian society,’ ‘cherry syrup,’ & ‘betrayal’)
Bonus all five prompts
Word Count: 852
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairings: Amy/Rory, Eleven/River
Summary: The Doctor gets into a little trouble.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Ponds to the Rescue
“Ah,” said the Doctor, as the Royal Guards dragged him up the stairs to the Royal Gallery, a large stone balcony overlooking the medium-sized town square.
More than a thousand people were packed into the small space, literally the unwashed masses, judging from the smell, all of them shouting and jeering.
“Silence!” roared the Empress. She rose from her throne, silk gown trailing in her wake, and the people quieted under the fierce looks from her Royal Guards.
The Doctor didn’t know what had happened. They were supposed to have arrived in this planet’s past, a golden era of learning like Earth’s renaissance period, only with the much earlier invention of rock ‘n’ roll. Instead, they had encountered this totalitarian led by the Empress and enforced by her ridiculously large and loyal army.
And really, how was he supposed to have known that trying to teach the villagers to read was as good as treason here?
“Well, Doctor,” said the Empress, gliding closer. She might have been beautiful, if she hadn’t always had a sneer on her face. “Will you speak now? Tell me who sent you, which of my enemies you work for, and I may spare your life.”
“Ah,” said the Doctor, again. “You see, there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t work for any of your enemies. I’m just… a traveler. And if you allow me to continue on my way-”
“Lies!” the Empress spat. “Guards!”
“Your Imperial Majesty!” cried a voice.
It was Angelique, the first person they’d met on this planet, a sweet young woman who had shown them around her village. She was followed by two burly Guards, who pushed Amy and Rory into a sudden gap in the crowd.
“There are the companions of the Doctor,” said Angelique. “They have been trying to incite the people against you, Majesty.”
The Doctor frowned. He’d thought he’d been so sure about that girl. How could she do this?
“Traitors,” screeched the Empress. “Bring them to me.”
The Guards began pushing Amy and Rory toward the stairs to the Royal Gallery, but there was a sudden commotion.
“She’s got a gun!” yelled Angelique, staggering away.
The Doctor saw Amy raise the weapon, saw the flash- and watched Rory crumple to the ground, a spray of crimson liquid hitting the cobblestones.
“Rory!” the Doctor yelled, struggling against the Guards, but his voice was lost in the sudden roar of the crowd.
Amy was dragged up the stairs into the Royal Gallery, kicking and screaming.
“Silence!” roared the Empress, and one of her Guards elbowed Amy, hard, in the ribs, then dropped her to the ground.
The Doctor scrambled over to her. “Oh, Amelia.”
“Doctor-” she hissed, but broke off when the Guard shoved her.
“See how the gods favor me, Doctor?” said the Empress. “You plan my death, and yet it is your man who dies.”
“You-” the Doctor began, but Amy put a hand on his arm.
“Your empire is over, Imperial Majesty,” she said, making the title sound more like an insult. “We are only just the first. Do you have any idea where we came from? Do you know how we got here? Well, trust me, there are a lot more coming after us.”
For a brief moment, the Empress looked worried, then she scowled again. “Guards!” she cried. “For crimes against Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress, the Doctor and his companion are sentenced to immediate death.”
“Ah,” said the Doctor. “Death.”
The Guards loaded their guns, forming a line- a firing squad. Bullets hurt, quite a lot, but if he died that way, the Doctor was almost certain he would regenerate. If he had been alone, he’d have laughed in the Empress’s face. But he wasn’t alone and Amy, fragile human Amelia Pond Williams, had only one short life.
He’d simply have to stall until he could think of a way out of this.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” he said, with an awkward smile. “Are you sure a nice, long exile wouldn’t be… Amy, perhaps you’d like to help, here?”
“Oh, you’re doing fine,” Amy said. “And we have to be going.”
“Go? Go where?”
A familiar whine echoed from the stone walls as the TARDIS materialized between them and the rifle-wielding Guards. The door opened.
“Hello, sweetie.”
“River!” cried the Doctor. They all piled inside, and she grinned back at him. “How…?”
“Dad called,” said River, nodding to where Amy was enthusiastically kissing a very-much-alive Rory. Beside them, Angelique turned pink and looked politely away.
“You!” said the Doctor, and the girl looked up at him. “You turned them in!”
“Exactly as Amy explained to me,” she said, with a smile for the older woman. “The plan was successful.”
“Not my plan!”
“And what was your plan?” asked Amy, with a teasing smile. “Annoy them into letting you go?”
The Doctor ignored her, pointing an accusing finger at Rory. “You were shot.”
“Firecracker,” he said.
“You were bleeding.”
Rory held up a hand and wiggled red-stained fingers. “Cherry syrup.”
“I hate you all,” the Doctor muttered.
River kissed his cheek. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”
THE END
Current Mood:
crappy
Prompt: writerverse challenge #23 weekly quick fic #7 (“The place where you made your stand never mattered. Only that you were there… and still on your feet.” (Stephen King) ‘time,’ ‘dystopian society,’ ‘cherry syrup,’ & ‘betrayal’)
Bonus all five prompts
Word Count: 852
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairings: Amy/Rory, Eleven/River
Summary: The Doctor gets into a little trouble.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Ponds to the Rescue
“Ah,” said the Doctor, as the Royal Guards dragged him up the stairs to the Royal Gallery, a large stone balcony overlooking the medium-sized town square.
More than a thousand people were packed into the small space, literally the unwashed masses, judging from the smell, all of them shouting and jeering.
“Silence!” roared the Empress. She rose from her throne, silk gown trailing in her wake, and the people quieted under the fierce looks from her Royal Guards.
The Doctor didn’t know what had happened. They were supposed to have arrived in this planet’s past, a golden era of learning like Earth’s renaissance period, only with the much earlier invention of rock ‘n’ roll. Instead, they had encountered this totalitarian led by the Empress and enforced by her ridiculously large and loyal army.
And really, how was he supposed to have known that trying to teach the villagers to read was as good as treason here?
“Well, Doctor,” said the Empress, gliding closer. She might have been beautiful, if she hadn’t always had a sneer on her face. “Will you speak now? Tell me who sent you, which of my enemies you work for, and I may spare your life.”
“Ah,” said the Doctor, again. “You see, there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t work for any of your enemies. I’m just… a traveler. And if you allow me to continue on my way-”
“Lies!” the Empress spat. “Guards!”
“Your Imperial Majesty!” cried a voice.
It was Angelique, the first person they’d met on this planet, a sweet young woman who had shown them around her village. She was followed by two burly Guards, who pushed Amy and Rory into a sudden gap in the crowd.
“There are the companions of the Doctor,” said Angelique. “They have been trying to incite the people against you, Majesty.”
The Doctor frowned. He’d thought he’d been so sure about that girl. How could she do this?
“Traitors,” screeched the Empress. “Bring them to me.”
The Guards began pushing Amy and Rory toward the stairs to the Royal Gallery, but there was a sudden commotion.
“She’s got a gun!” yelled Angelique, staggering away.
The Doctor saw Amy raise the weapon, saw the flash- and watched Rory crumple to the ground, a spray of crimson liquid hitting the cobblestones.
“Rory!” the Doctor yelled, struggling against the Guards, but his voice was lost in the sudden roar of the crowd.
Amy was dragged up the stairs into the Royal Gallery, kicking and screaming.
“Silence!” roared the Empress, and one of her Guards elbowed Amy, hard, in the ribs, then dropped her to the ground.
The Doctor scrambled over to her. “Oh, Amelia.”
“Doctor-” she hissed, but broke off when the Guard shoved her.
“See how the gods favor me, Doctor?” said the Empress. “You plan my death, and yet it is your man who dies.”
“You-” the Doctor began, but Amy put a hand on his arm.
“Your empire is over, Imperial Majesty,” she said, making the title sound more like an insult. “We are only just the first. Do you have any idea where we came from? Do you know how we got here? Well, trust me, there are a lot more coming after us.”
For a brief moment, the Empress looked worried, then she scowled again. “Guards!” she cried. “For crimes against Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress, the Doctor and his companion are sentenced to immediate death.”
“Ah,” said the Doctor. “Death.”
The Guards loaded their guns, forming a line- a firing squad. Bullets hurt, quite a lot, but if he died that way, the Doctor was almost certain he would regenerate. If he had been alone, he’d have laughed in the Empress’s face. But he wasn’t alone and Amy, fragile human Amelia Pond Williams, had only one short life.
He’d simply have to stall until he could think of a way out of this.
“Your Imperial Majesty,” he said, with an awkward smile. “Are you sure a nice, long exile wouldn’t be… Amy, perhaps you’d like to help, here?”
“Oh, you’re doing fine,” Amy said. “And we have to be going.”
“Go? Go where?”
A familiar whine echoed from the stone walls as the TARDIS materialized between them and the rifle-wielding Guards. The door opened.
“Hello, sweetie.”
“River!” cried the Doctor. They all piled inside, and she grinned back at him. “How…?”
“Dad called,” said River, nodding to where Amy was enthusiastically kissing a very-much-alive Rory. Beside them, Angelique turned pink and looked politely away.
“You!” said the Doctor, and the girl looked up at him. “You turned them in!”
“Exactly as Amy explained to me,” she said, with a smile for the older woman. “The plan was successful.”
“Not my plan!”
“And what was your plan?” asked Amy, with a teasing smile. “Annoy them into letting you go?”
The Doctor ignored her, pointing an accusing finger at Rory. “You were shot.”
“Firecracker,” he said.
“You were bleeding.”
Rory held up a hand and wiggled red-stained fingers. “Cherry syrup.”
“I hate you all,” the Doctor muttered.
River kissed his cheek. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”
THE END
Current Mood:
crappy