who fic: "Housebond" (One/Tardis/Me, PG13)
Title: Housebond
author: fannishliss
pairing: The Doctor, his first wife, and his other first wife
rating: teen
length: 2256 words
summary: In the Gallifreyan backtime, the Doctor's first wife meets his other first wife.
author's note:
I saw a funny comic strip that listed Twelve Types of Doctor Who Fan. (Don't forget to mouseover!) I happen to be ALL Twelve Types. But I took exception to the description of the Fanfic Writer as being obsessed with self inserts. So then I thought, Okay! Challenge Accepted. For my One story, I'll write One/Tardis/Me. This is that story. I hope you'll enjoy!! The Tardis is not actually humanoid in this story, nor are there any wolftaurs. I actually don't think I managed self insert. I'm not actually an Old Gallifreyan noblewoman!! :P But at least it's in the first person, and it's about One, and there is a One/Tardis/Me threeway, so I think it's a success. Marc Platt compliant, yay!
This completes my who@50 fanficathon. What larks!
PS, I went to select an icon for this story, and found my Young Chris Icon. I can dream. :)
PPS. There is kind of a meta about Gallifreyan Sexuality at the end of this story. As the day went by, I started thinking that people might be interested in why this story is the way it is. It is by no means random, but is based on the way I read various bits of canon. If you are not afraid, read on!
===============
Reader, I followed him.
It should have been beneath my dignity, I suppose, to trail my own housebond across the City, descending from the respectable heights of the Temple District, through the avenues of the Colleges, past the shopping gardens where I'd spent so many of my days, to the crowded, smoky slums of the City, where Outworlders jostled, haggled, and sweated, toiling on behalf of all noble Gallifreyans, their Overlords.
I was not brave. I was terrified. The farther he walked, with such ease, such familiarity, the more I realized I barely knew him. My friends had all been shocked at my choice -- to take a stranger as housebond, with no name, no house of his own, only a tenuous connection to the rogues of Prydon College and a lackluster job at the Temple. He told them all to call him The Doctor. They laughed at him behind their well kept veils, even though his smile was sweet and open; his own veils were strong as titanium sheeting.
I took him into my House because I could. I was well-titled, well-educated, and had little in the way of family obligations. My only concern was to produce an heir. He was kind, and it didn't take a Sister to see that he was well-born, even if his origins in the Southern Mountains were shrouded in mystery. He was the perfect candidate in so many ways, brilliant, gentle, and utterly lacking in ambition. Besides, his smile was so sweet. That's what I cherish most, deep in the heart of my hearts -- the tender smile he sometimes bestowed on me, though he kept so much of himself locked away behind those veils of steel.
I followed him with growing desperation. I'd already passed the point of no return. I could easily retrace my steps, wending my way back to the City's gentler quarters, and surely I was safe enough. Surely no Outworlder would risk laying hands on a wellborn Gallifreyan. Surely, even those ignorant plebeians would know enough to fear the harshest penalties, should I come to the least harm amongst them. I had taken my chamber maid's oldest, plainest market cloak. Somehow I had known that this little excursion would not end in the politer realms of the City -- though I had partially convinced myself that my housebond's secret errands were more to do with the Prydons than with plebeians. What I risked most was my reputation, my sterling character. No one of my station would soil the soles of their slippers in these slums. If my housebond had wanted for anything, anything at all on this great planet, the shining gem in the crown of the great and glorious Gallifreyan empire, he need only think it loudly enough for our servants to hear. There was no need for him to leave the respectable streets of our neighborhood. It looked bad. And of course, for me, it looked even worse -- it betrayed how shallow our bond really was, that I had stooped to following him. I burned with shame, even as I carefully tracked the ripples of his aura through the twisting alleyways. But I had to know. What was his secret? What lured him from the serenity of my House, in stealth and dire secrecy, to this filthy underside of the City?
How much farther? Would he never stop?
Just as my mounting anxiety had nearly toppled over into panic, I turned the corner and there he stood.
"Most honored Lady," he said formally, bowing his head slightly, that elegant twist to his lips undoing me as it always had.
"Housebond," I responded, standing tall as I could in a worn and dusty market cloak. I gathered my dignity to me, as there was no way to dissemble. "What is your business in these reprehensible quarters?"
"Reprehensible, my Lady?" he asked. There was always that hint of laughter just beneath his words, always at the forefront of his veils. "Gallifrey would grind to a halt, if not for the labor of these enslaved masses. Surely their work, undervalued though it is, should be due as much respect as mine, or yours."
He mocked me, for of course I did no work. "Shocking," I said calmly. "Are you Prydons fomenting a plebeian revolution?"
His bark of laughter startled me. Of course I understand it now.
"No, my Lady, nothing of that sort. But perhaps we had better hold this conversation somewhere a little less public?"
I looked around us in revulsion. Surely he could not expect me to enter any of these dilapidated and vermin infested structures?
"Most honored Lady," he said again, turning a key in an old blue door. I gathered the cloak tightly to me and entered as he directed, his slight bow somehow less ironic than perhaps I deserved.
I don't know what I expected: some hideous spectacle of iniquity, possibly a depraved Outworlder mistress, or the trappings of some exotic addiction. Not that perfect clean white room, that sleek, humming machinery. Certainly not her presence all around us, vast and permeating, melting through my veils as though they were nothing more than an evanescent mist, rising from the surface of a lake beneath the full heat of the double suns.
"What? What?" I said, stunned into incoherence.
"Most honored Lady, meet my other wife," he said, his cheeky grin lessening the sting of his impertinent words.
"Other...?" I faintly questioned. This was certainly not anything even remotely like what I might have suspected.
"I'm sorry, this has to be a shock, I know. Won't you follow me, my Lady? Her chambers are somewhat out of order, I'll admit, but there must be... aha!"
He gestured almost as if to lead me by the hand. I almost wanted to let him, but I was afraid, veils so thin, Integrity at risk, and his "other wife" all around, pressing at me, vibrating through the floor and walls and the very air of the place, a proprietary bond with the Doctor prominent in the aura she, whatever she might be, was projecting.
A doorway led away from the humming machinery, the glowing column, the heart of her. I followed him, dazed, through the archway of twisted white wood. I recognized at once the ancient style of the Southern Mountains. Similar archways may be seen in the grand entrance to Prydon College, or, more recently, at the Presidential Palace.
In these days, since the Revolution, so many things have changed. So much has been lost. But believe me, even before the Revolution, a Lady such as myself would never dream of finding herself where I then found myself: in my gentle housebond's bedchamber.
It was a simple, well-appointed room -- hung with costly silks as befitted his station, all in the reds and golds of the Prydon College, and the pale white wood of the ancient silver trees of his homeland. It was a warm, and welcoming room, in theory -- if it hadn't been completely terrifying.
"I beg you, my noble and most Honored Lady," he said, and actually lowered his knee to the floor. Knowing what I know now of who he was -- the whispers, the rumors -- I remember that moment with awe. "Please sit, and collect your veils about you."
He withdrew from the chamber, and I gratefully threw off the hooded market cloak, the nasty thing.
I looked about, unable to resist. It was a simple room -- two upholstered armchairs, a low table, his wardrobe and bureau, a standing writing desk, a coatrack. An enormous bed, in bedclothes of crimson and gold. All the furniture was slightly oversized, but I was glad to sink back into the comfort of an overstuffed armchair. I attempted, as he suggested, to draw my veils about me, but my thoughts and emotions were in ragged disorder.
What was this place? What was that humming? What did he mean, other wife? How had he kept all this from me? And what was he thinking, to bring me so brazenly to his bedchamber?
After a time, I calmed. Her humming, though intrusive, was soothing in its way. He returned, bearing a tall glass of cold fruit juice. It was one of my favorites, and I sipped it gratefully.
"Seat yourself, and answer my questions," I said.
He smiled that little half smile that charmed me so, and seated himself gracefully in the chair opposite.
"What is this place?" I demanded.
"It is a Time Travel Capsule, Mark Forty," he said promptly, like a schoolboy answering his tutor.
"Time travel?" I said, my mind whirling. The rumors about the Prydons -- then they were true?
"Yes. Rassilon will be successful. Gallifreyan society will undergo a radical change. We will become the Lords of Time."
Rassil Onasti -- that upstart Prydon, with his dreams of technological advancement. I never understood why the Temple allowed him to triumph over them. I suppose that even knowing the future, they were powerless to change it.
"And you?" I asked.
"Time Lord. Renegade, actually. From thousands and thousands of years in the future. But I am from the Southern Mountains, and I am from Prydon College, and my name is The Doctor." He said it all with a laugh, but I could tell he cared how his words affected me. I believe that he cared.
"So you know everything that will happen?" I asked. How horrible it must be, to see from within as well known events played out, knowing every outcome, unable to alter even the slightest detail. What could be the point of it?
"No," he said, still smiling his crooked grin. "I came first in temporal mechanics. There are always uncertainties, moments of flux. The trick is pinpointing them."
"Why are you here?" I demanded. I was embarrassed to feel a flood of emotion well up inside me. Why had he duped me? What did he want with me? My veils were all in tatters. He heard my every thought.
"I'm here, because it's the most exciting place and time I could imagine." His eyes shone with sincerity. "I'm here, because here is where it all changed, for better or for worse. I'm here with you, Kyticlaradvorsusillian, because you are perfectly lovely, so brilliant, so untamed for one of your station. You followed me here, despite your fears, despite your training, in spite of what your friends might say, and I knew you would. I knew it! I haven't misled you, not really. I am your sincere housebond, and if you allow me, I'll give you a child. Maybe, if you desire it, more than one. I bask in that honor, truly. I want nothing more than to live here with you, one life, just for a while."
Reader, I believed him. And it was there, in that bedchamber, that I conceived his child, as his other wife rocked us in the loving embrace of a goddess.
I saw behind his shields of iron and lead and steel, and what I saw astounded me. Never was any Gallifreyan so beautiful, so terrible, so sublime. No one outside the Prydons and their cult of the Schism ever saw what I saw -- the untrammeled vortex of Time itself flowed through his consciousness, making him mad, driving him to run.
I gave myself to him, then and there, threw aside all my veils. I never thought I would conceive anywhere but the Temple, never thought I could trust a man not restrained by the strength of seven Sisters. I opened myself, and he penetrated me, and he was so gentle.
He was so gentle. I felt the ferocity of his desire, held at bay on my behalf, the storm of his passion gripped tightly in check, and instead of seven Sisters his other wife held him, invisible, all-encompassing. She sang as he bred me, and her song was glorious, ringing through my head and hearts as his seed took root inside me. I loved him, Reader. I did. And there was so much in him, so much power, so much wisdom, such a godlike capacity for love, that I have to believe he loved me too, in his way.
He stayed with me as he'd promised, raised our daughter to adulthood, protected our Household through the Revolution, and helped to raise our granddaughter, one of the last children ever born from Gallifreyan womb. Both of us were there, in the Temple, when our daughter was bred, the Sisters easily holding her housebond in check. I blushed behind my veils, for without his consent they could never have held back my housebond, the Doctor.
He moved his ship from the slums to my House, heavily shielded to prevent detection from the Temple or the Colleges. I used to sit with him, sometimes, in his growing library. The feel of her humming all around us made me feel safe in those tumultuous days.
As the Revolution took hold and the new ways settled in, Arkytiorprydisusillian, my granddaughter, convinced him it was time to go.
"There's so much out there, grandfather! Please, let's go traveling! I want to see it all!" Her eager face was like his, but open, unveiled. He kept himself so veiled, a true Gallifreyan, a Time Lord.
Rassilon says that we mustn't mourn the old Pythian ways. His new genetic looms will weave a superior race of Time Lords. The Rassilon Imprimatur will conquer death, just as his Time Travel capsules will conquer time.
My housebond gave me that promised lifetime, and then left with my granddaughter to see the universe.
I would have followed him, if I could have -- into the future, into the stars, her magnificence humming all around us, everywhen poised to unfold.
=====
Additional Author's Notes.
We don't know a lot about Gallifreyan Sexuality, except that there have been several efforts to assert that there Wasn't Any. Me personally, I very much enjoy the concept of the looms and am fascinated by a society so repressed it completely got rid of Sexuality. I think it goes a long way toward explaining why certain Renegades just Run Mad and can't take it any more. The Pythian Curse to me is very interesting because, Revenge of the displaced Matriarchy!!!
This story takes place in the backtime just before the Revolution. The main character Kyti is the Doctor's first wife, mother of his daughter, grandmother of Susan (aka Arkytior). I wanted to make her a product of her times, so she is very much Gallifreyan Noblewoman, Pythian traditionalist, and Veiled Psyche. There are lots of places in the novels that talk about how the Gallifreyans of the backtime had so much trouble Individuating and preserving their Integrity because of the roar of other pychics in their heads. Rassilon's messing around with their genetics seems to have helped them with that, which is maybe why the Doctor's psychic shields seem so impressive to Kyti. Additional headcanon for me is that Gallifreyans were originally non-lingual -- their language was entirely psychic and the Old High Gallifreyan is a mathematical transcript of it. I also love to think about the Corals that the Tardis is descended from. Imagine the corals!!!
I get the impression that Gallifreyans were not just repressed about sex, but were really appalled and terrified of it. I'm sex positive, so I wanted to explore why that might be. I've explored the issue a little bit in other stories, primarily here, but in this story, at last, I really explore it from inside the head of a traditionalist backtime noblewoman. For her, it's an issue of psychic integrity and part of the complex of Pythian mysticism. For her to breed with confidence, she needs the security of Seven Pythian Sisters holding her partner back. She's very impressed and basically falls in love with the Doctor because of his own self-discipline during their one mating experience. The idea of Bonding had by this time become nothing more than a property and inheritance issue. For him to actually attempt to psychically bond with her would have been seen as terribly invasive, completely taboo. As a matriarchal society, property passes from mother to her offspring, and the Housebond is there primarily as a mate for the purposes of progeny, but also as a partner who will help rear offspring. You might think they would use artificial insemination by this point, but apparently the traditionalists, influenced by the Pythians, wouldn't see that as appropriate. As Pythian influence began to wane, they became more controlling and reactionary, with the last Pythia being pretty crazy and obsessed, and of course delivering the Curse. The Curse, here, is explained by the Pythian exodus (presumably to Karn). Without Sisters to monitor and control their mating, the switch to Rassilon's looms was an easy choice. Then after being genetically manipulated by Rassilon, the mating urge was suppressed even farther. The Doctor, of course, I regard as a throwback. :D
There is a great moment in Lungbarrow where Leela and Andred talk about their sex life. In Chapter Fourteen (p 136 of my e-copy) Andred tells Leela “They never taught us this at the Academy. I'd like to see their faces. I don't think anyone's done this for... it must be thousands and thousands of years. All the others do is watch the aliens at it and précis their notes afterwards.” !!! :D
It also explains why Ten is so backward around Rose. And why Eleven prefers River to use handcuffs. ;)
I welcome all comments!
author: fannishliss
pairing: The Doctor, his first wife, and his other first wife
rating: teen
length: 2256 words
summary: In the Gallifreyan backtime, the Doctor's first wife meets his other first wife.
author's note:
I saw a funny comic strip that listed Twelve Types of Doctor Who Fan. (Don't forget to mouseover!) I happen to be ALL Twelve Types. But I took exception to the description of the Fanfic Writer as being obsessed with self inserts. So then I thought, Okay! Challenge Accepted. For my One story, I'll write One/Tardis/Me. This is that story. I hope you'll enjoy!! The Tardis is not actually humanoid in this story, nor are there any wolftaurs. I actually don't think I managed self insert. I'm not actually an Old Gallifreyan noblewoman!! :P But at least it's in the first person, and it's about One, and there is a One/Tardis/Me threeway, so I think it's a success. Marc Platt compliant, yay!
This completes my who@50 fanficathon. What larks!
PS, I went to select an icon for this story, and found my Young Chris Icon. I can dream. :)
PPS. There is kind of a meta about Gallifreyan Sexuality at the end of this story. As the day went by, I started thinking that people might be interested in why this story is the way it is. It is by no means random, but is based on the way I read various bits of canon. If you are not afraid, read on!
===============
Reader, I followed him.
It should have been beneath my dignity, I suppose, to trail my own housebond across the City, descending from the respectable heights of the Temple District, through the avenues of the Colleges, past the shopping gardens where I'd spent so many of my days, to the crowded, smoky slums of the City, where Outworlders jostled, haggled, and sweated, toiling on behalf of all noble Gallifreyans, their Overlords.
I was not brave. I was terrified. The farther he walked, with such ease, such familiarity, the more I realized I barely knew him. My friends had all been shocked at my choice -- to take a stranger as housebond, with no name, no house of his own, only a tenuous connection to the rogues of Prydon College and a lackluster job at the Temple. He told them all to call him The Doctor. They laughed at him behind their well kept veils, even though his smile was sweet and open; his own veils were strong as titanium sheeting.
I took him into my House because I could. I was well-titled, well-educated, and had little in the way of family obligations. My only concern was to produce an heir. He was kind, and it didn't take a Sister to see that he was well-born, even if his origins in the Southern Mountains were shrouded in mystery. He was the perfect candidate in so many ways, brilliant, gentle, and utterly lacking in ambition. Besides, his smile was so sweet. That's what I cherish most, deep in the heart of my hearts -- the tender smile he sometimes bestowed on me, though he kept so much of himself locked away behind those veils of steel.
I followed him with growing desperation. I'd already passed the point of no return. I could easily retrace my steps, wending my way back to the City's gentler quarters, and surely I was safe enough. Surely no Outworlder would risk laying hands on a wellborn Gallifreyan. Surely, even those ignorant plebeians would know enough to fear the harshest penalties, should I come to the least harm amongst them. I had taken my chamber maid's oldest, plainest market cloak. Somehow I had known that this little excursion would not end in the politer realms of the City -- though I had partially convinced myself that my housebond's secret errands were more to do with the Prydons than with plebeians. What I risked most was my reputation, my sterling character. No one of my station would soil the soles of their slippers in these slums. If my housebond had wanted for anything, anything at all on this great planet, the shining gem in the crown of the great and glorious Gallifreyan empire, he need only think it loudly enough for our servants to hear. There was no need for him to leave the respectable streets of our neighborhood. It looked bad. And of course, for me, it looked even worse -- it betrayed how shallow our bond really was, that I had stooped to following him. I burned with shame, even as I carefully tracked the ripples of his aura through the twisting alleyways. But I had to know. What was his secret? What lured him from the serenity of my House, in stealth and dire secrecy, to this filthy underside of the City?
How much farther? Would he never stop?
Just as my mounting anxiety had nearly toppled over into panic, I turned the corner and there he stood.
"Most honored Lady," he said formally, bowing his head slightly, that elegant twist to his lips undoing me as it always had.
"Housebond," I responded, standing tall as I could in a worn and dusty market cloak. I gathered my dignity to me, as there was no way to dissemble. "What is your business in these reprehensible quarters?"
"Reprehensible, my Lady?" he asked. There was always that hint of laughter just beneath his words, always at the forefront of his veils. "Gallifrey would grind to a halt, if not for the labor of these enslaved masses. Surely their work, undervalued though it is, should be due as much respect as mine, or yours."
He mocked me, for of course I did no work. "Shocking," I said calmly. "Are you Prydons fomenting a plebeian revolution?"
His bark of laughter startled me. Of course I understand it now.
"No, my Lady, nothing of that sort. But perhaps we had better hold this conversation somewhere a little less public?"
I looked around us in revulsion. Surely he could not expect me to enter any of these dilapidated and vermin infested structures?
"Most honored Lady," he said again, turning a key in an old blue door. I gathered the cloak tightly to me and entered as he directed, his slight bow somehow less ironic than perhaps I deserved.
I don't know what I expected: some hideous spectacle of iniquity, possibly a depraved Outworlder mistress, or the trappings of some exotic addiction. Not that perfect clean white room, that sleek, humming machinery. Certainly not her presence all around us, vast and permeating, melting through my veils as though they were nothing more than an evanescent mist, rising from the surface of a lake beneath the full heat of the double suns.
"What? What?" I said, stunned into incoherence.
"Most honored Lady, meet my other wife," he said, his cheeky grin lessening the sting of his impertinent words.
"Other...?" I faintly questioned. This was certainly not anything even remotely like what I might have suspected.
"I'm sorry, this has to be a shock, I know. Won't you follow me, my Lady? Her chambers are somewhat out of order, I'll admit, but there must be... aha!"
He gestured almost as if to lead me by the hand. I almost wanted to let him, but I was afraid, veils so thin, Integrity at risk, and his "other wife" all around, pressing at me, vibrating through the floor and walls and the very air of the place, a proprietary bond with the Doctor prominent in the aura she, whatever she might be, was projecting.
A doorway led away from the humming machinery, the glowing column, the heart of her. I followed him, dazed, through the archway of twisted white wood. I recognized at once the ancient style of the Southern Mountains. Similar archways may be seen in the grand entrance to Prydon College, or, more recently, at the Presidential Palace.
In these days, since the Revolution, so many things have changed. So much has been lost. But believe me, even before the Revolution, a Lady such as myself would never dream of finding herself where I then found myself: in my gentle housebond's bedchamber.
It was a simple, well-appointed room -- hung with costly silks as befitted his station, all in the reds and golds of the Prydon College, and the pale white wood of the ancient silver trees of his homeland. It was a warm, and welcoming room, in theory -- if it hadn't been completely terrifying.
"I beg you, my noble and most Honored Lady," he said, and actually lowered his knee to the floor. Knowing what I know now of who he was -- the whispers, the rumors -- I remember that moment with awe. "Please sit, and collect your veils about you."
He withdrew from the chamber, and I gratefully threw off the hooded market cloak, the nasty thing.
I looked about, unable to resist. It was a simple room -- two upholstered armchairs, a low table, his wardrobe and bureau, a standing writing desk, a coatrack. An enormous bed, in bedclothes of crimson and gold. All the furniture was slightly oversized, but I was glad to sink back into the comfort of an overstuffed armchair. I attempted, as he suggested, to draw my veils about me, but my thoughts and emotions were in ragged disorder.
What was this place? What was that humming? What did he mean, other wife? How had he kept all this from me? And what was he thinking, to bring me so brazenly to his bedchamber?
After a time, I calmed. Her humming, though intrusive, was soothing in its way. He returned, bearing a tall glass of cold fruit juice. It was one of my favorites, and I sipped it gratefully.
"Seat yourself, and answer my questions," I said.
He smiled that little half smile that charmed me so, and seated himself gracefully in the chair opposite.
"What is this place?" I demanded.
"It is a Time Travel Capsule, Mark Forty," he said promptly, like a schoolboy answering his tutor.
"Time travel?" I said, my mind whirling. The rumors about the Prydons -- then they were true?
"Yes. Rassilon will be successful. Gallifreyan society will undergo a radical change. We will become the Lords of Time."
Rassil Onasti -- that upstart Prydon, with his dreams of technological advancement. I never understood why the Temple allowed him to triumph over them. I suppose that even knowing the future, they were powerless to change it.
"And you?" I asked.
"Time Lord. Renegade, actually. From thousands and thousands of years in the future. But I am from the Southern Mountains, and I am from Prydon College, and my name is The Doctor." He said it all with a laugh, but I could tell he cared how his words affected me. I believe that he cared.
"So you know everything that will happen?" I asked. How horrible it must be, to see from within as well known events played out, knowing every outcome, unable to alter even the slightest detail. What could be the point of it?
"No," he said, still smiling his crooked grin. "I came first in temporal mechanics. There are always uncertainties, moments of flux. The trick is pinpointing them."
"Why are you here?" I demanded. I was embarrassed to feel a flood of emotion well up inside me. Why had he duped me? What did he want with me? My veils were all in tatters. He heard my every thought.
"I'm here, because it's the most exciting place and time I could imagine." His eyes shone with sincerity. "I'm here, because here is where it all changed, for better or for worse. I'm here with you, Kyticlaradvorsusillian, because you are perfectly lovely, so brilliant, so untamed for one of your station. You followed me here, despite your fears, despite your training, in spite of what your friends might say, and I knew you would. I knew it! I haven't misled you, not really. I am your sincere housebond, and if you allow me, I'll give you a child. Maybe, if you desire it, more than one. I bask in that honor, truly. I want nothing more than to live here with you, one life, just for a while."
Reader, I believed him. And it was there, in that bedchamber, that I conceived his child, as his other wife rocked us in the loving embrace of a goddess.
I saw behind his shields of iron and lead and steel, and what I saw astounded me. Never was any Gallifreyan so beautiful, so terrible, so sublime. No one outside the Prydons and their cult of the Schism ever saw what I saw -- the untrammeled vortex of Time itself flowed through his consciousness, making him mad, driving him to run.
I gave myself to him, then and there, threw aside all my veils. I never thought I would conceive anywhere but the Temple, never thought I could trust a man not restrained by the strength of seven Sisters. I opened myself, and he penetrated me, and he was so gentle.
He was so gentle. I felt the ferocity of his desire, held at bay on my behalf, the storm of his passion gripped tightly in check, and instead of seven Sisters his other wife held him, invisible, all-encompassing. She sang as he bred me, and her song was glorious, ringing through my head and hearts as his seed took root inside me. I loved him, Reader. I did. And there was so much in him, so much power, so much wisdom, such a godlike capacity for love, that I have to believe he loved me too, in his way.
He stayed with me as he'd promised, raised our daughter to adulthood, protected our Household through the Revolution, and helped to raise our granddaughter, one of the last children ever born from Gallifreyan womb. Both of us were there, in the Temple, when our daughter was bred, the Sisters easily holding her housebond in check. I blushed behind my veils, for without his consent they could never have held back my housebond, the Doctor.
He moved his ship from the slums to my House, heavily shielded to prevent detection from the Temple or the Colleges. I used to sit with him, sometimes, in his growing library. The feel of her humming all around us made me feel safe in those tumultuous days.
As the Revolution took hold and the new ways settled in, Arkytiorprydisusillian, my granddaughter, convinced him it was time to go.
"There's so much out there, grandfather! Please, let's go traveling! I want to see it all!" Her eager face was like his, but open, unveiled. He kept himself so veiled, a true Gallifreyan, a Time Lord.
Rassilon says that we mustn't mourn the old Pythian ways. His new genetic looms will weave a superior race of Time Lords. The Rassilon Imprimatur will conquer death, just as his Time Travel capsules will conquer time.
My housebond gave me that promised lifetime, and then left with my granddaughter to see the universe.
I would have followed him, if I could have -- into the future, into the stars, her magnificence humming all around us, everywhen poised to unfold.
=====
Additional Author's Notes.
We don't know a lot about Gallifreyan Sexuality, except that there have been several efforts to assert that there Wasn't Any. Me personally, I very much enjoy the concept of the looms and am fascinated by a society so repressed it completely got rid of Sexuality. I think it goes a long way toward explaining why certain Renegades just Run Mad and can't take it any more. The Pythian Curse to me is very interesting because, Revenge of the displaced Matriarchy!!!
This story takes place in the backtime just before the Revolution. The main character Kyti is the Doctor's first wife, mother of his daughter, grandmother of Susan (aka Arkytior). I wanted to make her a product of her times, so she is very much Gallifreyan Noblewoman, Pythian traditionalist, and Veiled Psyche. There are lots of places in the novels that talk about how the Gallifreyans of the backtime had so much trouble Individuating and preserving their Integrity because of the roar of other pychics in their heads. Rassilon's messing around with their genetics seems to have helped them with that, which is maybe why the Doctor's psychic shields seem so impressive to Kyti. Additional headcanon for me is that Gallifreyans were originally non-lingual -- their language was entirely psychic and the Old High Gallifreyan is a mathematical transcript of it. I also love to think about the Corals that the Tardis is descended from. Imagine the corals!!!
I get the impression that Gallifreyans were not just repressed about sex, but were really appalled and terrified of it. I'm sex positive, so I wanted to explore why that might be. I've explored the issue a little bit in other stories, primarily here, but in this story, at last, I really explore it from inside the head of a traditionalist backtime noblewoman. For her, it's an issue of psychic integrity and part of the complex of Pythian mysticism. For her to breed with confidence, she needs the security of Seven Pythian Sisters holding her partner back. She's very impressed and basically falls in love with the Doctor because of his own self-discipline during their one mating experience. The idea of Bonding had by this time become nothing more than a property and inheritance issue. For him to actually attempt to psychically bond with her would have been seen as terribly invasive, completely taboo. As a matriarchal society, property passes from mother to her offspring, and the Housebond is there primarily as a mate for the purposes of progeny, but also as a partner who will help rear offspring. You might think they would use artificial insemination by this point, but apparently the traditionalists, influenced by the Pythians, wouldn't see that as appropriate. As Pythian influence began to wane, they became more controlling and reactionary, with the last Pythia being pretty crazy and obsessed, and of course delivering the Curse. The Curse, here, is explained by the Pythian exodus (presumably to Karn). Without Sisters to monitor and control their mating, the switch to Rassilon's looms was an easy choice. Then after being genetically manipulated by Rassilon, the mating urge was suppressed even farther. The Doctor, of course, I regard as a throwback. :D
There is a great moment in Lungbarrow where Leela and Andred talk about their sex life. In Chapter Fourteen (p 136 of my e-copy) Andred tells Leela “They never taught us this at the Academy. I'd like to see their faces. I don't think anyone's done this for... it must be thousands and thousands of years. All the others do is watch the aliens at it and précis their notes afterwards.” !!! :D
It also explains why Ten is so backward around Rose. And why Eleven prefers River to use handcuffs. ;)
I welcome all comments!