Guranteed
When they were children, they took great delight in rebelling against the established authority. It was so much fun to watch the old, dusty professors squirm in their chairs when confronted with Koschei’s brilliance and Theta’s wit.
A hundred years later, as a young man, Theta still felt stifled by his old professors, the dusty officials who seemed so content to build shiny cages and lock themselves inside. He had a family: a daughter and a granddaughter and they were both so beautiful. They loved Gallifrey, loved life and he found himself wishing that he hadn’t grown tired of it all so quickly.
Koschei had graduated with the high marks and accolade he’d deserved and gone away. Gallifrey was too small to hold him, and so he had disappeared to go do bigger (though not necessarily better) things. He had become his own master. With him gone, Theta felt there was nothing left for him here. Not even the loving embrace of his wife, his children and grandchildren could keep him. He felt stifled, and when sad eyes rolled over in bed, looked into his and told him, “this place is killing you. You should leave.” He did.
He abandoned his name, chose a title instead, and became a renegade. Of course, even when he was roaming the universe in a slightly obsolete Tardis, the Timelords still felt it was necessary to look over his shoulder, to call him home when they felt he was getting too free-spirited. They could never quite relinquish control of the Doctor’s life; though the Doctor made it clear time and again that it had never been theirs in the first place.
And then there was Koschei, who had taken to calling himself the Master and conquering various lesser species for “the good of the universe.” The Doctor chased him across the galaxies thwarting plots and preventing disasters although really it felt like an excuse. He focused on saving the world, rather than the fact that his insides too often felt like a compass pointing the way to the Master’s magnetic north. The Master seemed to understand anyway. Perhaps he felt the pull, too.
The more the Doctor chased him, the more he began to wonder if the Master’s machinations were really simple bids for authority, or whether they had a more elaborate, almost Freudian, purpose. The Doctor couldn’t deny that at times his universe was eclipsed by the Master, and he became certain, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that the Master’s desire for power and his desire for the Doctor (as an adversary, a lover, a duelling partner) were intertwined.
The Time War shattered the universe. It left the Doctor with an awful empty hole in his consciousness. Silence where the Timelords had been. Gallifrey was gone, the Master was gone, and at last he had what he always wanted in the first place. Too late, he realized he didn’t want it after all.
*<<*>>*
The Master paces on the flight deck, carefully ignoring the Doctor who’s sprawled pathetically on the floor, his hands tied behind his back and his legs too weak to support him.
“I’m tired of this, Doctor. Really, really tired of sitting around waiting for you to say something brilliant and insightful”
“You could always force it out of me.” The Doctor replies with a lightness he doesn’t feel.
Then suddenly, the Master’s mood changes and he is crouched on the floor, his face so close to the Doctor’s that he could kiss it (or bite it).
“Tell me Doctor. Tell me that I own you. We both know you can’t live without me. Say it, I need to hear it.” There is a note of pleading in his voice that doesn’t suit the Master.
You stupid, blind fool. The Doctor thinks, you were never my god. I have already felt you die and I survived it. The universe is my master now, and it is far crueler than you could ever be.
But he says “You are my master, Koschei. You have always been my master.”
Don't come closer or I'll have to go
Holding me like gravity are places that pull
If ever there was someone to keep me at home
It would be you...
-Eddie Vedder, Guaranteed