Doctor Who/HDM: "A Wind From Another World" (12/12)
Title: A Wind From Another World
Characters/Pairings: Nine/Rose/Jack, Lyra, Serafina, Iorek
Rating: All Ages
Warnings: None.
Summary: When a portal appears in the skies of Cardiff, the TARDIS team tumbles into another dimension and becomes tangled in an enigmatic prophecy. Doctor Who/His Dark Materials crossover (though no familiarity with the crossover fandom is necessary) set after Boom Town.
Notes: Thus concludes the saga. Thanks to studyofrunning, kaffyr, and spiralstarfall for beta reading, to laurab1 for the lovely banner, and to The Dæmon Page for, well, everything.
1. Prophecy | 2. Annunciation | 3. Nativity | 4. Gifts of the Magi | 5. Confession | 6. Fishers of Men | 7. Judgment | 8. Temptation | 9. Epiphany | 10. Trinity | 11. Resurrection
12. Ascension
So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
- 1 Corinthians 13:13
Dear Will,
I hope this letter finds you well. Be sure to thank the Doctor and his friends for delivering it. We owe them a great debt; without them, everything we fought for would have been lost. They haven't yet saved the multiverse like we did, but I suspect that one day they might. They believe in what we stand for. Most of all, I believe in them.
Rose felt like her mouth was filled with ashes, filled with the dust that was all that remained of the people the Anne-Droid just disintegrated. She'd voted for Fitch, and now she was atoms floating on the breeze. She'd been partly responsible. Her heart was pounding fit to burst - bile rose in her throat -
Then she felt a reassuring warmth at the corners of her mind, could almost feel fur and whiskers beneath her palm as a rough bass voice murmured silently: it wasn't your fault, you couldn't have known.
Rose stilled. Bree? Is that you?
Of course. You need me, so I'm here. I always am. A calm strength curled up her spine. They'll come for you, Rose. I know they will.
They'll come. Rose had faith now; it would deliver her through this nightmare. And then we'll close this awful place for good.
I suppose I hardly need to mention how often I think of you. We only traveled together for a couple of months, at the outside, but looking back, it feels like years. The few times I told anyone at school about it (a heavily edited version, of course) they thought I was mad. I'm not supposed to fall in love with someone I only knew for a month or two. But still, you always come first. There are moments when the world narrows down to a pinpoint, and something great and terrible has happened or is about to happen; when those moments come, and I've got to make a decision, I still think: what about Will?
The red light lanced toward Rose as she ran toward the Doctor. For a moment, Jack thought they'd made it in time, that she'd be in the Doctor's arms and then everything would be all right. Then the red light struck her in the back - there was a scream -
There was no gravity, no light, no movement, no updownleftrightforwardback, no world. There was only a swirl of dust in the air. It was all that remained of not just one, but three lives.
He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The dust settled in his mind, in the corners of his soul. Then there was a stirring, a warm breath ghosting, and the face of a lioness appeared dimly in the dust. I know it hurts, Jack, she said, her voice closer than his own heartbeat. Worse than anything. But the Doctor needs you.
The chains of despair were broken, the veil cast away from Jack's senses, and he could see people closing in on the Doctor from every direction. Alizairi was right. The Time Lord needed to be alone with his grief.
I'm the only thing he's got left, Jack thought. “BACK OFF!” he bellowed. Then he brandished his gun and rushed forward to scatter the wardens of this place of death.
Of course I should know better. Of course I should know that I can't build my life around you. That would wrong myself and wrong you, because I know you expect more of me than that. That's when Pantalaimon steps in, and reminds me that I'm worth it. He reminds me that I'm more than what I've seen, more than whatever heroism I've done, more than just a lost soul pining for you. Those things are all a part of me, but I'm something greater. I'm Lyra. I try not to lose sight of that.
The Doctor leaned his head against the door, hearing the cries of “EXTERMINATE” filter through and permeate the console room like foul smoke. The words he'd just exchanged with the Emperor Dalek stuck in his throat after he'd spoken them, until he thought he might choke on his own desperation.
How did you survive the Time War?
Falling through time, crippled but alive
The prisoners, the refugees, the dispossessed - they all came to us
The stink of humanity
Doesn't it just burn when you face me?
you hate your own existence
you hate your own existence
At the edge of sight, the Doctor could see a hint of gold amid the dim orange-green light of the console room: the eyes of his dæmon. You are so right and so wrong at the same time. Her whisper-soft voice trailed along the corners of his mind like the hem of a silver curtain. You rebuilt yourself from humanity after the Time War, just as surely as they did. That is true. But they corrupted and perverted all that is human until only their monstrous flesh was left. You reach into the heart of humanity and bring out what is best. That is what saves you, in the end. Look at them.
He shifted his head slightly against the door, and he could see them, his beloved friends, their faces alive with worry and hope. They wouldn't love you if there weren't something worth loving. They believe in you. Now go give them something to believe in.
The Captain was already in position by the console, preparing for dematerialization. The Doctor could see the place where he should be standing to start the sequence, like a visible emptiness in the air. As if from a great distance, he perceived himself turning away from the door, from the sounds of death, towards the heart of the timeship. “Rose? Captain?” he said, then leaped into position in a dark blur of motion. “Let's go.”
I often remember Kirjava with great fondness. I remember how her fur felt as I threaded it between my fingers. I can picture her deep, solemn eyes, though the detail of my recollections declines with every passing year. Sometimes I wonder whether you got to keep Kirjava on the outside when you returned to your universe. Or do you have to imagine her curled up beside you, an insubstantial vision?
The hologram flickered into being before Rose's eyes. Her knees wobbled a little at the sight of the Doctor, and when she noticed the grey dog beside him peering at her with great gold eyes, she very nearly fell back against a coral strut. It was an apparition, nothing more, yet the hologram was more substantial than the glimpses of Bree she caught at the corners of her perception, his brown eyes liquid with sorrow. On some level she refused to acknowledge, the sight of the Doctor's dæmon gave her the knowledge that it was all over.
His dæmon had that look that a dog gets when its companion is suffering, but there is nothing it can do to assuage the pain, because it's only a dog. Of course, she wasn't really a dog, but she was just as powerless in the face of what was happening.
Rose could feel Bree's claws biting into her shoulder until it hurt; the pain was the only thing that seemed real. This pale shadow of the man could only be a horrible dream.
The hologram of the Doctor and his dæmon turned to face her, as if drawn by some unknowable sense. “Have a fantastic life,” the Doctor said.
The dog's eyes said, He couldn't have one without you.
I don't want to give the impression that I pine over you all the time. I don't, because what happened was right, and I wouldn't change it a bit. I'm eternally grateful that I got to tell you everything I needed you to hear before we parted. I know you didn't get to speak to your father before he died. I can't tell you how sorry I am. I remember what it was like when Roger died. There were so many things I should have said to him, but I never got the chance. At least we knew we had only a little time left. I could have been a coward. I could have held back. I almost did. There are things I told you that day I couldn't possibly say to anyone else. It wasn't easy. I was frightened, even if I was too pigheaded to show it. But I don't know how I could live with myself if I hadn't taken that last chance to share it all with you.
The Doctor was hyper-aware of the the timelines that crackled around him, arcing through the higher dimensions like arcane lightning. He tried to push the sensation aside. Of all the possible outcomes this most dire hour could have, most of them depressed him, while the rest just broke his heart. He needed to concentrate on the delta wave, but it was so hard to think over the dull whisper of timelines curling into nothingness all around him as the defenders of the satellite gave their last.
“Doctor, you've got twenty seconds maximum!”
Connect the wires, dash to the left, pick up another lead, run back, anything to distract him from that final golden thread that was thinning, thinning as the possibility of survival narrowed to zero. Never doubted him, never will -
Say something! His dæmon appears at the corner of his mind's eye, her eyes blazing like twin flames in the dimness of the satellite. He's about to die. Why can't you tell him -
“EXTERMINATE!”
“I kinda figured that.”
A gossamer web of possibility, gleaming bright across the higher dimensions, shriveled and died away. The ashes of what might have been ran cold between the Doctor's fingers. Why didn't I tell him that I never doubted him either? Why didn't I -
But then he pulled on a lever, and stopped and stared. No time for regrets now.
“It's ready!”
In the prophecies of the witches, I am called Mother Eve. There are legends told of me across the multiverse. Some say that I will continue to do great things. They say my life's path must be a great one. What I've come to understand is that greatness cannot be thrust upon us. It is something we create for ourselves. I might change the world one day, but if I do, it will be because of the choices I make under the circumstances I find myself in. I'm determined to forge my own destiny. I hope that in due time, you'll do the same.
“Then prove yourself, Doctor. What are you - coward, or killer?”
His dæmon appeared before him, grey as the ghosts at the back of his mind chanting killer, killer, killer!
Coward or killer? she asked, summoning the feel of cold steel in his hands, of a Dalek splayed grotesquely open, and of the woman who stood in his way.
Killer! he cried, silently. I was the predator. The Dalek was my prey. She was just an obstacle. She was nothing. I didn't care.
Wrong answer, she said, and he remembered the point of the gun falling, and every drop of anger draining away until he just felt old and tired. Coward or killer? she asked, and he relived the horror of that blinding flash, and the fall of his last defender, loyal to the end.
Killer! he replied. I should never have sent him to die. He could have - he could have been -
Wrong answer. He chose to die for you, but you chose not to say goodbye. Her nose was inches from his, her eyes boring into him. Coward or killer?
His hands shook on the lever. Ka Faraq Gatri, the Oncoming Storm, Destroyer of Worlds. That's what the legends call me. That's what I am.
If that's how the story goes, she said, then let's write a new one. Coward or killer?
Somewhere across the Void, in one among a million million universes, a golden needle swung around a dial. It paused at a finely painted symbol of an owl seventeen times as it swept around the circle. In this world, there were perhaps a dozen people who had the skill to interpret this sequence to mean “coward.”
Lyra smiled.
I have no way of knowing whether you're even alive as I write this. I suspect time passes differently between the universes. What's been ten years for me may be seventy for you - or perhaps no time at all. Still, even though you're gone, I still carry you with me. Sometimes, I still feel as if I'll turn round the corner, and you'll be there, waiting for me. It wouldn't seem terribly strange. No matter what happens, after all this time, I can never leave you behind.
Vortex energy streamed from the Doctor's mouth, leaving a taste on his tongue like hot iron, gold dust, and the particular kind of tea brewed by the ethereal sentients of A'i'eloza in the embers of their dying star.
Beneath it all lingered the taste of ashes in his mouth.
He gathered Rose in his arms, took a step toward the TARDIS, and staggered. His time senses reeled. The flicker and swirl of probabilities was imploding, a million possible futures collapsing into a single, impossible Fact.
The Doctor ran. He lifted Rose as if she were nothing more than a bundle of straw, but he lowered her onto the floor of the TARDIS as if she were spun glass. He stroked the side of her face with his thumb, then looked back over his shoulder.
The TARDIS doors didn't close.
Standing just outside was his dæmon. The dust that was all that remained of the Daleks lay undisturbed beneath her paws. She watched him steadily.
The Doctor's mouth went dry. He knew he could reach up for a switch on the console and close the doors. She wasn't actually standing there; she was a projection of a facet of his mind.
The dog that was not a dog stared at him with eyes unblinking, eyes full of hot iron and gold dust. He's not a Fact.
The Doctor could feel it still, burning beneath his skin worse than the fires that would soon consume his body from the inside out. Timelines wavered sickeningly around the abhorrent singularity.
He's not a Fact. She played across the strands of memory like a harp, showing him all the possibilities he'd seen blossoming around the humans. He saw Rose teaching a child how to read. He saw Jack building a starship out of a few spare parts and a dream. He saw futures of heroism and sacrifice, of dignity and despair, of wandering and adventure. The further his senses raced along a timeline, the more possibilities exploded forth in infinite color and breadth.
In some of the futures, he saw himself. In many of those futures, the three of them were happy. They knew danger, and fear, but they also knew joy - even peace.
He's not a Fact. He's more than that. He's Captain Jack Harkness, and he belongs with us.
The Doctor and his dæmon stared at each other for a long moment. Neither of them knew for sure who'd thought it. In the end, it didn't matter.
I'm not sure who I was before I met you. I'm not sure I remember what it was like not to have some part of you in my heart. You changed my life. You still change my life, every day. I choose to believe that it's for the better.
Even as golden fire raced along his nerves, exploding all his senses into the impossible brightness of new life, the Doctor felt the sleek fur of an otter in his right hand, and the elegant whiskers of a lioness in his right.
Sincerely and forever yours,
Lyra
Characters/Pairings: Nine/Rose/Jack, Lyra, Serafina, Iorek
Rating: All Ages
Warnings: None.
Summary: When a portal appears in the skies of Cardiff, the TARDIS team tumbles into another dimension and becomes tangled in an enigmatic prophecy. Doctor Who/His Dark Materials crossover (though no familiarity with the crossover fandom is necessary) set after Boom Town.
Notes: Thus concludes the saga. Thanks to studyofrunning, kaffyr, and spiralstarfall for beta reading, to laurab1 for the lovely banner, and to The Dæmon Page for, well, everything.
1. Prophecy | 2. Annunciation | 3. Nativity | 4. Gifts of the Magi | 5. Confession | 6. Fishers of Men | 7. Judgment | 8. Temptation | 9. Epiphany | 10. Trinity | 11. Resurrection
12. Ascension
So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
- 1 Corinthians 13:13
Dear Will,
I hope this letter finds you well. Be sure to thank the Doctor and his friends for delivering it. We owe them a great debt; without them, everything we fought for would have been lost. They haven't yet saved the multiverse like we did, but I suspect that one day they might. They believe in what we stand for. Most of all, I believe in them.
Rose felt like her mouth was filled with ashes, filled with the dust that was all that remained of the people the Anne-Droid just disintegrated. She'd voted for Fitch, and now she was atoms floating on the breeze. She'd been partly responsible. Her heart was pounding fit to burst - bile rose in her throat -
Then she felt a reassuring warmth at the corners of her mind, could almost feel fur and whiskers beneath her palm as a rough bass voice murmured silently: it wasn't your fault, you couldn't have known.
Rose stilled. Bree? Is that you?
Of course. You need me, so I'm here. I always am. A calm strength curled up her spine. They'll come for you, Rose. I know they will.
They'll come. Rose had faith now; it would deliver her through this nightmare. And then we'll close this awful place for good.
I suppose I hardly need to mention how often I think of you. We only traveled together for a couple of months, at the outside, but looking back, it feels like years. The few times I told anyone at school about it (a heavily edited version, of course) they thought I was mad. I'm not supposed to fall in love with someone I only knew for a month or two. But still, you always come first. There are moments when the world narrows down to a pinpoint, and something great and terrible has happened or is about to happen; when those moments come, and I've got to make a decision, I still think: what about Will?
The red light lanced toward Rose as she ran toward the Doctor. For a moment, Jack thought they'd made it in time, that she'd be in the Doctor's arms and then everything would be all right. Then the red light struck her in the back - there was a scream -
There was no gravity, no light, no movement, no updownleftrightforwardback, no world. There was only a swirl of dust in the air. It was all that remained of not just one, but three lives.
He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The dust settled in his mind, in the corners of his soul. Then there was a stirring, a warm breath ghosting, and the face of a lioness appeared dimly in the dust. I know it hurts, Jack, she said, her voice closer than his own heartbeat. Worse than anything. But the Doctor needs you.
The chains of despair were broken, the veil cast away from Jack's senses, and he could see people closing in on the Doctor from every direction. Alizairi was right. The Time Lord needed to be alone with his grief.
I'm the only thing he's got left, Jack thought. “BACK OFF!” he bellowed. Then he brandished his gun and rushed forward to scatter the wardens of this place of death.
Of course I should know better. Of course I should know that I can't build my life around you. That would wrong myself and wrong you, because I know you expect more of me than that. That's when Pantalaimon steps in, and reminds me that I'm worth it. He reminds me that I'm more than what I've seen, more than whatever heroism I've done, more than just a lost soul pining for you. Those things are all a part of me, but I'm something greater. I'm Lyra. I try not to lose sight of that.
The Doctor leaned his head against the door, hearing the cries of “EXTERMINATE” filter through and permeate the console room like foul smoke. The words he'd just exchanged with the Emperor Dalek stuck in his throat after he'd spoken them, until he thought he might choke on his own desperation.
How did you survive the Time War?
Falling through time, crippled but alive
The prisoners, the refugees, the dispossessed - they all came to us
The stink of humanity
Doesn't it just burn when you face me?
you hate your own existence
you hate your own existence
At the edge of sight, the Doctor could see a hint of gold amid the dim orange-green light of the console room: the eyes of his dæmon. You are so right and so wrong at the same time. Her whisper-soft voice trailed along the corners of his mind like the hem of a silver curtain. You rebuilt yourself from humanity after the Time War, just as surely as they did. That is true. But they corrupted and perverted all that is human until only their monstrous flesh was left. You reach into the heart of humanity and bring out what is best. That is what saves you, in the end. Look at them.
He shifted his head slightly against the door, and he could see them, his beloved friends, their faces alive with worry and hope. They wouldn't love you if there weren't something worth loving. They believe in you. Now go give them something to believe in.
The Captain was already in position by the console, preparing for dematerialization. The Doctor could see the place where he should be standing to start the sequence, like a visible emptiness in the air. As if from a great distance, he perceived himself turning away from the door, from the sounds of death, towards the heart of the timeship. “Rose? Captain?” he said, then leaped into position in a dark blur of motion. “Let's go.”
I often remember Kirjava with great fondness. I remember how her fur felt as I threaded it between my fingers. I can picture her deep, solemn eyes, though the detail of my recollections declines with every passing year. Sometimes I wonder whether you got to keep Kirjava on the outside when you returned to your universe. Or do you have to imagine her curled up beside you, an insubstantial vision?
The hologram flickered into being before Rose's eyes. Her knees wobbled a little at the sight of the Doctor, and when she noticed the grey dog beside him peering at her with great gold eyes, she very nearly fell back against a coral strut. It was an apparition, nothing more, yet the hologram was more substantial than the glimpses of Bree she caught at the corners of her perception, his brown eyes liquid with sorrow. On some level she refused to acknowledge, the sight of the Doctor's dæmon gave her the knowledge that it was all over.
His dæmon had that look that a dog gets when its companion is suffering, but there is nothing it can do to assuage the pain, because it's only a dog. Of course, she wasn't really a dog, but she was just as powerless in the face of what was happening.
Rose could feel Bree's claws biting into her shoulder until it hurt; the pain was the only thing that seemed real. This pale shadow of the man could only be a horrible dream.
The hologram of the Doctor and his dæmon turned to face her, as if drawn by some unknowable sense. “Have a fantastic life,” the Doctor said.
The dog's eyes said, He couldn't have one without you.
I don't want to give the impression that I pine over you all the time. I don't, because what happened was right, and I wouldn't change it a bit. I'm eternally grateful that I got to tell you everything I needed you to hear before we parted. I know you didn't get to speak to your father before he died. I can't tell you how sorry I am. I remember what it was like when Roger died. There were so many things I should have said to him, but I never got the chance. At least we knew we had only a little time left. I could have been a coward. I could have held back. I almost did. There are things I told you that day I couldn't possibly say to anyone else. It wasn't easy. I was frightened, even if I was too pigheaded to show it. But I don't know how I could live with myself if I hadn't taken that last chance to share it all with you.
The Doctor was hyper-aware of the the timelines that crackled around him, arcing through the higher dimensions like arcane lightning. He tried to push the sensation aside. Of all the possible outcomes this most dire hour could have, most of them depressed him, while the rest just broke his heart. He needed to concentrate on the delta wave, but it was so hard to think over the dull whisper of timelines curling into nothingness all around him as the defenders of the satellite gave their last.
“Doctor, you've got twenty seconds maximum!”
Connect the wires, dash to the left, pick up another lead, run back, anything to distract him from that final golden thread that was thinning, thinning as the possibility of survival narrowed to zero. Never doubted him, never will -
Say something! His dæmon appears at the corner of his mind's eye, her eyes blazing like twin flames in the dimness of the satellite. He's about to die. Why can't you tell him -
“EXTERMINATE!”
“I kinda figured that.”
A gossamer web of possibility, gleaming bright across the higher dimensions, shriveled and died away. The ashes of what might have been ran cold between the Doctor's fingers. Why didn't I tell him that I never doubted him either? Why didn't I -
But then he pulled on a lever, and stopped and stared. No time for regrets now.
“It's ready!”
In the prophecies of the witches, I am called Mother Eve. There are legends told of me across the multiverse. Some say that I will continue to do great things. They say my life's path must be a great one. What I've come to understand is that greatness cannot be thrust upon us. It is something we create for ourselves. I might change the world one day, but if I do, it will be because of the choices I make under the circumstances I find myself in. I'm determined to forge my own destiny. I hope that in due time, you'll do the same.
“Then prove yourself, Doctor. What are you - coward, or killer?”
His dæmon appeared before him, grey as the ghosts at the back of his mind chanting killer, killer, killer!
Coward or killer? she asked, summoning the feel of cold steel in his hands, of a Dalek splayed grotesquely open, and of the woman who stood in his way.
Killer! he cried, silently. I was the predator. The Dalek was my prey. She was just an obstacle. She was nothing. I didn't care.
Wrong answer, she said, and he remembered the point of the gun falling, and every drop of anger draining away until he just felt old and tired. Coward or killer? she asked, and he relived the horror of that blinding flash, and the fall of his last defender, loyal to the end.
Killer! he replied. I should never have sent him to die. He could have - he could have been -
Wrong answer. He chose to die for you, but you chose not to say goodbye. Her nose was inches from his, her eyes boring into him. Coward or killer?
His hands shook on the lever. Ka Faraq Gatri, the Oncoming Storm, Destroyer of Worlds. That's what the legends call me. That's what I am.
If that's how the story goes, she said, then let's write a new one. Coward or killer?
Somewhere across the Void, in one among a million million universes, a golden needle swung around a dial. It paused at a finely painted symbol of an owl seventeen times as it swept around the circle. In this world, there were perhaps a dozen people who had the skill to interpret this sequence to mean “coward.”
Lyra smiled.
I have no way of knowing whether you're even alive as I write this. I suspect time passes differently between the universes. What's been ten years for me may be seventy for you - or perhaps no time at all. Still, even though you're gone, I still carry you with me. Sometimes, I still feel as if I'll turn round the corner, and you'll be there, waiting for me. It wouldn't seem terribly strange. No matter what happens, after all this time, I can never leave you behind.
Vortex energy streamed from the Doctor's mouth, leaving a taste on his tongue like hot iron, gold dust, and the particular kind of tea brewed by the ethereal sentients of A'i'eloza in the embers of their dying star.
Beneath it all lingered the taste of ashes in his mouth.
He gathered Rose in his arms, took a step toward the TARDIS, and staggered. His time senses reeled. The flicker and swirl of probabilities was imploding, a million possible futures collapsing into a single, impossible Fact.
The Doctor ran. He lifted Rose as if she were nothing more than a bundle of straw, but he lowered her onto the floor of the TARDIS as if she were spun glass. He stroked the side of her face with his thumb, then looked back over his shoulder.
The TARDIS doors didn't close.
Standing just outside was his dæmon. The dust that was all that remained of the Daleks lay undisturbed beneath her paws. She watched him steadily.
The Doctor's mouth went dry. He knew he could reach up for a switch on the console and close the doors. She wasn't actually standing there; she was a projection of a facet of his mind.
The dog that was not a dog stared at him with eyes unblinking, eyes full of hot iron and gold dust. He's not a Fact.
The Doctor could feel it still, burning beneath his skin worse than the fires that would soon consume his body from the inside out. Timelines wavered sickeningly around the abhorrent singularity.
He's not a Fact. She played across the strands of memory like a harp, showing him all the possibilities he'd seen blossoming around the humans. He saw Rose teaching a child how to read. He saw Jack building a starship out of a few spare parts and a dream. He saw futures of heroism and sacrifice, of dignity and despair, of wandering and adventure. The further his senses raced along a timeline, the more possibilities exploded forth in infinite color and breadth.
In some of the futures, he saw himself. In many of those futures, the three of them were happy. They knew danger, and fear, but they also knew joy - even peace.
He's not a Fact. He's more than that. He's Captain Jack Harkness, and he belongs with us.
The Doctor and his dæmon stared at each other for a long moment. Neither of them knew for sure who'd thought it. In the end, it didn't matter.
I'm not sure who I was before I met you. I'm not sure I remember what it was like not to have some part of you in my heart. You changed my life. You still change my life, every day. I choose to believe that it's for the better.
Even as golden fire raced along his nerves, exploding all his senses into the impossible brightness of new life, the Doctor felt the sleek fur of an otter in his right hand, and the elegant whiskers of a lioness in his right.
Sincerely and forever yours,
Lyra