You're My King And I'm Your Lionheart (1/1)
Disclaimer: If I did own, Doctor Who, Matt Smith would forever be Eleven. Is he? No? I don't own then. :p
A/N: The result of a day listening to Of Monsters and Men. Yes, I ship Eleven and Clara romantically, since he called her His Impossible Girl. So expect that here. A little angsty, I think. Mostly Clara's pov.\
Summary: Her love was what upheld him, what caught him when he fell, what fixed him when he broke.
Taking over this town, they should worry,
But these problem aside I think I taught you well.
That we won't run, and we won't run, and we won't run.
"We never run," he told her. She never forgot it. Of course, it had been her who told him they should never run. Not in the face of danger.
And in the winter night sky ships are sailing,
Looking down on these bright blue city lights.
And they won't wait, and they won't wait, and they won't wait.
We're here to stay, we're here to stay, we're here to stay.
She remembers countless nights--they could have been days, she doesn't know now. How did one even keep time here?--spent walking aimlessly around the inner chambers of the TARDIS, alone while Eleven himself was off doing whatever he did. One night, she'd stumbled across a certain room. It was more a large auditorium-sized room with large windows that spread across the area of the room. In the center, she noticed a peculiarly designed telescope that appeared as if it were from a different age. She approached it and tentatively reached a hand out to stroke the cool metal--bronze, she thought. She paused there, fixated on the telescope, when a blue light flashed out of the corner of her eye.
Distracted, she glided to the glass windows and peered out at the endless sea of black sky. A small smile lit up her face. "It would be winter about now back in Lancasshire," she murmured as her eyes drifted over the starry expanse just out of arm's reach. She slowly walked alongside the windows, running her hand along the glass. A soft gasp escaped her lips when she laid eyes on a string of blue stars, twinkling and winking at her, vivid against the black velvet of the starry canvas.
"Beautiful, eh?" Startled, she turned on a heel, clumsily smacking her forehead into the glass and curses, rubbing her head. That elicitted a chuckle from him and also earned him a scathing glare from her. "Sorry?" The glare slid off her face and hit the floor with an almost audile slap, replaced with the hint of smile.
"I want that. Around my neck," she chuckled, making a motion as if clasping a necklace about her slender neck. He smiled broadly and moved closer to her. He reached up and stroked the side of her face.
"If you asked for the moon on a string, I could give it to you, Clara," he whispered. "You know, on the third planet of the 7th nebula near Epsilon a23, they do have--" She cut him mid-babble with two fingers pressed softly on his lips.
"I know you can, Chin Boy. That's why you brought me, isn't it? To show me the stars?"
Howling ghost they reappear
In mountains that are stacked with fear
But you're a king and I'm a lion-heart.
A lion-heart.
She didn't know about them for longest time. Not until she found the Doctor huddled under the lower level beneath the consul, hugging his knees against his chest, breathing hard and in a cold sweat.
"Doctor?" She practically jumped down the stairs and jogged to his side, dropping to her knees beside him. Her presence apparently had no effect on the Time Lord; he just kept rocking back and forth, mumbling incoherently as beads of sweat rolled down his face and a tear rolled down his cheek. "Doctor, what's going on?" Clara asked as she reached up and wiped the tear away with her thumb.
"It's not my fault, Amy. It's not my fault you lost her. Please," he pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut. "Why? Why are you laying the blame on my shoulders, Amelia?" His voice, raw with anguish, shakily delivered the question to no one in particular.
"I'm Clara, and I'm here. Listen to me, " Clara said softly but firmly, taking his face in her hands. "I'm here. You've got me, Doctor." His eyes were still shut tight, he still mumbled. So she decided to make her move first. She pulled him close to her and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. "My name is Clara Oswin, and I was born to save the Doctor," she whispered softer than even he could hear. She closed her eyes too and ran her hand up and down his back, trying to soothe him. "I'm supposed to save you," she whispered into his ear. Eventually, he stopped trembling, and she felt his arms around herself, felt him clinging to her for dear life.
And as the world comes to an end
I'll be here to hold your hand
'Cause you're my king and I'm your lion-heart.
It was never supposed to be him. He wasn't supposed to do this. And definitely not saving her. So she didn't understand how they had come to this point. The Eleventh Doctor lying on the ground, in the arms of Clara Oswin Oswald.
"Idiot," she sniffled, managing a small, sad smile even as tears formed at the corners of her eyes.
"That how you say thank you when someone saves your life? Proper nasty way...if you ask me," he mumbled. His eyelids flickered as if he were getting sleepy, and that was when she chose to play dirty. She lifted a hand and slapped his cheek, with a determined glint in her dark eyes.
"Oi, you, Chin Boy, aren't supposed to do this. You know? That's my job," she huffed with raised eyebrows and tapped him lightly on the tip of his nose. He seemed not to notice her statement and instead slowly reached for one of her hands. He took it, held it in his own and lifted it to his lips, brushing a soft kiss there before finally laying her hand over his hearts.
"Beautiful, fragile, delicate human flesh. Little Clara hands." He'd smiled then, and it had been the first time in a long time that she saw a smile like this one now on his face.
"Well, I've told you at least twice before that it is my whole and magnificently singular purpose to--" she launched herself into a long and detailed explanation of how it was supposed to be her lying there in his arms, dying for his sake rather than vice verse, but in the moment that she paused to take a breath....in a moment when she became silent for at least 11 seconds...she felt his body go slack in her hold. His head lolled in the crook of her elbow, and his eyes were closed. But that smile--that soft, heartbreaking smile--was still on his face and it left her wondering what thought had still been on his mind. Surely it couldn't have been her. Two droplets rolled down her face; she blinked them away. He was still holding her hand, now at the end. After his end.
A/N: Thoughts? Fish fingers and custard for those who review. ;P
A/N: The result of a day listening to Of Monsters and Men. Yes, I ship Eleven and Clara romantically, since he called her His Impossible Girl. So expect that here. A little angsty, I think. Mostly Clara's pov.\
Summary: Her love was what upheld him, what caught him when he fell, what fixed him when he broke.
Taking over this town, they should worry,
But these problem aside I think I taught you well.
That we won't run, and we won't run, and we won't run.
"We never run," he told her. She never forgot it. Of course, it had been her who told him they should never run. Not in the face of danger.
And in the winter night sky ships are sailing,
Looking down on these bright blue city lights.
And they won't wait, and they won't wait, and they won't wait.
We're here to stay, we're here to stay, we're here to stay.
She remembers countless nights--they could have been days, she doesn't know now. How did one even keep time here?--spent walking aimlessly around the inner chambers of the TARDIS, alone while Eleven himself was off doing whatever he did. One night, she'd stumbled across a certain room. It was more a large auditorium-sized room with large windows that spread across the area of the room. In the center, she noticed a peculiarly designed telescope that appeared as if it were from a different age. She approached it and tentatively reached a hand out to stroke the cool metal--bronze, she thought. She paused there, fixated on the telescope, when a blue light flashed out of the corner of her eye.
Distracted, she glided to the glass windows and peered out at the endless sea of black sky. A small smile lit up her face. "It would be winter about now back in Lancasshire," she murmured as her eyes drifted over the starry expanse just out of arm's reach. She slowly walked alongside the windows, running her hand along the glass. A soft gasp escaped her lips when she laid eyes on a string of blue stars, twinkling and winking at her, vivid against the black velvet of the starry canvas.
"Beautiful, eh?" Startled, she turned on a heel, clumsily smacking her forehead into the glass and curses, rubbing her head. That elicitted a chuckle from him and also earned him a scathing glare from her. "Sorry?" The glare slid off her face and hit the floor with an almost audile slap, replaced with the hint of smile.
"I want that. Around my neck," she chuckled, making a motion as if clasping a necklace about her slender neck. He smiled broadly and moved closer to her. He reached up and stroked the side of her face.
"If you asked for the moon on a string, I could give it to you, Clara," he whispered. "You know, on the third planet of the 7th nebula near Epsilon a23, they do have--" She cut him mid-babble with two fingers pressed softly on his lips.
"I know you can, Chin Boy. That's why you brought me, isn't it? To show me the stars?"
Howling ghost they reappear
In mountains that are stacked with fear
But you're a king and I'm a lion-heart.
A lion-heart.
She didn't know about them for longest time. Not until she found the Doctor huddled under the lower level beneath the consul, hugging his knees against his chest, breathing hard and in a cold sweat.
"Doctor?" She practically jumped down the stairs and jogged to his side, dropping to her knees beside him. Her presence apparently had no effect on the Time Lord; he just kept rocking back and forth, mumbling incoherently as beads of sweat rolled down his face and a tear rolled down his cheek. "Doctor, what's going on?" Clara asked as she reached up and wiped the tear away with her thumb.
"It's not my fault, Amy. It's not my fault you lost her. Please," he pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut. "Why? Why are you laying the blame on my shoulders, Amelia?" His voice, raw with anguish, shakily delivered the question to no one in particular.
"I'm Clara, and I'm here. Listen to me, " Clara said softly but firmly, taking his face in her hands. "I'm here. You've got me, Doctor." His eyes were still shut tight, he still mumbled. So she decided to make her move first. She pulled him close to her and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. "My name is Clara Oswin, and I was born to save the Doctor," she whispered softer than even he could hear. She closed her eyes too and ran her hand up and down his back, trying to soothe him. "I'm supposed to save you," she whispered into his ear. Eventually, he stopped trembling, and she felt his arms around herself, felt him clinging to her for dear life.
And as the world comes to an end
I'll be here to hold your hand
'Cause you're my king and I'm your lion-heart.
It was never supposed to be him. He wasn't supposed to do this. And definitely not saving her. So she didn't understand how they had come to this point. The Eleventh Doctor lying on the ground, in the arms of Clara Oswin Oswald.
"Idiot," she sniffled, managing a small, sad smile even as tears formed at the corners of her eyes.
"That how you say thank you when someone saves your life? Proper nasty way...if you ask me," he mumbled. His eyelids flickered as if he were getting sleepy, and that was when she chose to play dirty. She lifted a hand and slapped his cheek, with a determined glint in her dark eyes.
"Oi, you, Chin Boy, aren't supposed to do this. You know? That's my job," she huffed with raised eyebrows and tapped him lightly on the tip of his nose. He seemed not to notice her statement and instead slowly reached for one of her hands. He took it, held it in his own and lifted it to his lips, brushing a soft kiss there before finally laying her hand over his hearts.
"Beautiful, fragile, delicate human flesh. Little Clara hands." He'd smiled then, and it had been the first time in a long time that she saw a smile like this one now on his face.
"Well, I've told you at least twice before that it is my whole and magnificently singular purpose to--" she launched herself into a long and detailed explanation of how it was supposed to be her lying there in his arms, dying for his sake rather than vice verse, but in the moment that she paused to take a breath....in a moment when she became silent for at least 11 seconds...she felt his body go slack in her hold. His head lolled in the crook of her elbow, and his eyes were closed. But that smile--that soft, heartbreaking smile--was still on his face and it left her wondering what thought had still been on his mind. Surely it couldn't have been her. Two droplets rolled down her face; she blinked them away. He was still holding her hand, now at the end. After his end.
A/N: Thoughts? Fish fingers and custard for those who review. ;P