Enthralled

Whew. This file refused to save and my goodness what a pain it was to complete because of that. Just a headsup, I might be moving accounts; so this story might also be moving.

In case you were not aware, and I may have already shared this, but I forget: you can keep up to date with this fic, and where it's at, and see graphics etc. at it's tumblr: the url is shaestels-enthralled. See you there.

Hope you enjoy.

Part One

Chapter Ten

In retrospect, the Doctor would never be able to say, with any degree of certainty, whether he heard the thunder, first, or felt the large tremor that shook the room. They seemed to happen within seconds of each other, and in his shock, both sounds merged with one another to create some unintelligible, overwhelming cataclysm, which continued to reverberate around him moments after, creating a further distortion through the echo, confusing his senses further. Once the rippling, booming noise dissipated, and the earth grew still, it was not replaced by silence, but by the distinctive sounds of screaming. Before him, Edda stood in front of her desk, her fingers tracing some word on some document. He could not see what it was, but it did not matter.
The air was growing even thinner, and it was becoming even harder to breathe.

"I can still help," the Doctor blurted out, trying to get through to her and as quickly as possible, as he moved back to the door, throwing a glance back at the highest skald as he went. If the Ovader already had a grip on Helheim then the Doctor had no way of saving the planet, truthfully. Ovaders were large, ethereal and strong and it would require an immense deal of power and force to move it now that it was rooting itself to Helheim to feed - force which would just do greater damage to Helheim itself. He was a fool and a liar. "I can – if I can-"

"This is the choice I must make," Edda hissed, impatiently. It didn't seem as if she was really talking to him, but rather, talking to herself and content with knowing that he would hear it. "Save Helheim, or allow millions others to be saved - by her." she spat.

Thinner, still.

"Edda, you will condemn millions to die here if-"

"This is my decision. It has already been made for me." She gave a low, humming chuckle, or gargle. It was hard to tell which. "The notion of a leader who knew everything- a prophet should never be a leader. The choices we make are never our own. This is my decision, Doctor. You won't change my mind."
The Doctor moved to the door in resignation, accepting that he would never get through to her. She moved around the desk, slowly, sitting down in the wooden chair once move, hands gripping the table firmly. Her eyes never strayed to look at him.

"This is my decision. Leave me to it."

The Doctor left, and closed the door behind him, aware he would most likely never see the highest skald again. She was set in her ways, and could see no alternative, and he might doubt her leadership capabilities, and her morality, but he could never again doubt the true extent of a skald's entire, prophetic, and overwhelming knowledge. If she could see nothing, then there was nothing he could do: there was no future for this planet, and nothing would remain. There would be no past either. There was something so strangely incomplete to the whole event, too: he wasn't even fully a part of it, he couldn't have failed since he had never really been totally involved from the start – he was a spectator who had tried to intervene, who still wanted to intervene – but he still felt like an outsider. Like he was simply watching everything, because everything he said and did fell on deaf ears and blind eyes.

The Doctor refused to stand by and do nothing. Even if there was no hope of salvaging this planet and its people, he could not abide slothful apathy. Even if Edda was an inconsistent prophet, she was a prophet nonetheless. She had known he was coming after all. She had known he would care for Esne.
He knew what he had to do. Edda had practically told him, for she had told him enough for him to guess and fill in the gaps of his knowledge. Esne was to survive, Edda had revealed, and he knew (because it was of course what he would do even if he didn't know the near future from Edda, and because he did know what was to happen from Edda and would act accordingly) that she would survive because he would save her. His endearment to her was not essential only to him investigating and wanting to help, but to him staying long enough to know he had to, and to want to, save her life eventually. He could not save this planet, even if he wanted to help, and he had to accept that. He let out a grunt and kicked his foot at the dusty floor impatiently. Though he would not save Helheim, he would save a thrallgirl from it, she would the planet's lonely legacy, but she would have been saved nonetheless, and this was what Edda wanted him for.

It was, therefore, now a case of finding her. The Doctor sucked in air - the effects of the thinning atmosphere were now beginning to wear on him, too. The TARDIS had protected him for a while but it could not defend him from a lack of breathable air forever. Soon he might begin to burn or lose his hair and skin. And he rather liked both of these things. Hearing coughing directly behind him, and screaming before him, he rushed forward to the front of the court building, retracing his steps to abandon this claustrophobic penitentiary of a judicial building.
Esne stirred into action as she heard movement behind her, and she turned to see who was still in the court building. It had to be Edda, surely. Her and the Gallifreyan. She cared little for the Doctor, but she did not directly wish death on him, but she did fear for Edda. She was a skald, and therefore weaker than Esne, a thrall.

"A-Edda?" She called, the back of her throat burning from the effort. The pain reminded her that she was dying. Dying and standing still, waiting and watching. If this was her fault, if she had brought this upon Helheim, then she should take responsibility and help where she could, even if death for all was inevitable, and nobody would tell stories of the stupid Esne who tried and failed to save her people, who doomed them because she thought she was clever. Nobody would know or care if she tried to help. But better she died trying nonetheless. Better she knew, even if nobody else ever would. When the Doctor had called her brave, she had scorned him and corrected him, saying that she lacked the stupidity required to be brave. She had been wrong. With that, she took a step towards the door of the court building. "Quick. Get out of there."

But she had no time to say anything further for from the small door a recognisable body shot out. It was the Doctor.

"You?"

"Esne!" His hands moved towards her, as if he was trying to grab her arms. She quickly pushed him away, throwing all her weight and strength into the gesture as she threw him off with her hands upon his chest. Taken by surprise by both her actions and her strength, he fell backwards, against the stone wall.

"Touch me again without my permission and I will hurt you." Her hands fell to her waist, where her knife sat. She was a killer now. She had killed Aun. She had killed Helheim. She could kill the Doctor too. "Don't make me." It was more pitiful than convincing, but it was a genuine threat, a promise of violence and retaliation.

"What would stabbing me achieve?" He raised his hands as if in surrender nevertheless, but interrupted her when she tried to answer. "No, Esne, listen. Listen to me. I'm so sorry. Really. I am. But I had nothing to do with this. It was not my fault. Neither was it yours, Esne. You have done nothing wrong and you mustn't blame yourself." He stared at her, eyes wide, with his hands still in the air.

Esne glaring at him, feeling uncomfortably hot but not knowing if it was the storm or her own rage causing her blood to boil and skin to sear. Her fingers fell from the hilt of her dagger; the threat of it had no effect on the Doctor, so there was no point in her using it against him. Better to save it for later, wait for his back to turn, wait until she'd gotten all the information she needed from him. "Where is Edda?" She asked, her voice low, and trembling with malice. "You told me you were going to see her, now where is she? What did you do to her?"

His eyes closed.

"I know exactly who and what you are, I've checked every record of you. You're the killer who calls himself the wise man, the healer. But you're also a saviour, I know that, too." She hissed, remembering the books she had read. How many planets, how many people had he saved? How many had he condemned to a fate like this? "What happened?" She asked. "Did you just flip a coin and decide Helheim wasn't worth saving?"

"Esne, stop this." He snapped. Esne's mouth shut immediately. She glared at him for several moments for she turned and darted away. He ordered her to stop. Their time was up. They could not have these debates any longer, for Esne was soon to die in this dying atmosphere. The wind was now picking up and would soon be a hurricane, and it would not be easy for the Doctor to fly out of that.

"Follow me," the Doctor ordered, and began to run back in the direction of the old court building.

Esne was directly behind him, but she was yelling. "What about Edda? What about the rest of us? Let me go." He said nothing, and neither did she after that. Perhaps she had retreated back into that quiet girl. She had only ever been cold and blunt to him, but he'd seen her around Edda. She had been anxious, then. With the other thrall – Aun, his name was - it had been the same. She had spoken to him softly, with a tremble to her tone. Until he became violent. Then she effectively killed him. She was softer towards those she was intimidated by. No. She was softer to those she respected, and trusted. To the Doctor, who she feared, and to Aun, who had become a threat, she was bitter and resentful. Perhaps, instead, she was planning her escape, or simply her revenge.

"Don't attack me, either." He added, as an afterthought.

Around them, the wind was picking up, slipping away more of what precious air there was left. The inhabitants were largely preparing shelters, ones which would not last through the storms. They were methodical, nonetheless, but the Doctor knew they would not be protected. None screamed; most of the despair or grief was only shown through silent tears.

As the Doctor reached the domestic area, through which he had to pass to reach his TARDIS, the mood changed. People no longer tried curiously to store supplies to survive, or trying to board up their homes to create bunker-like shelters. Instead they turned, watched him, the pink skinned outsider, and recognised him as the one who had passed through here before, maybe hearing about Edda incarcerating him. It felt strange to think of her now. She was probably still alive, just as the other thrall, Aun, was, but both were as good as dead already

The thralls all suddenly rushed forward, lead by the woman with three braids he had spoken to before. "What's happening?" they asked, eyes wide, "what do the skalds propose we do?"

He opened his mouth to answer before they pushed past him, reaching Esne, who froze, instinctively. "Where is my son?" The woman asked, gripping Esne's wrist impatiently.

"He is with Edda." The Doctor did not know who the woman's son was, but he realised that this woman was Aun's mother. Esne snatched her wrist away, as the Doctor stared at her. She shot him a dark look, as if to threaten him with the same fate Edda and Aun were to meet. Esne did not know what had become of Edda, but her assumption was clear. She thought Edda, like Aun, was effectively dead already. She was not wrong. It seemed to pacify the woman, however, for she smiled, and sighed, closing her eyes and nodding slowly, swallowing.

"He will be safe, then. The highest skald will keep him safe." If her faith in Edda was genuine, if she believed that Edda could save him, and everyone else, or if she was making the best of things, relieving herself with the knowledge of Edda protecting and accompanying her son even in death, the Doctor did not know.
"Enough. Come with me, Esne." He said, as gently as he could manage. Esne stiffened, again, but of course she obeyed.

"Do not follow him!" the woman suddenly hissed, and the others followed, rushing forward to create a shield between him and Esne. She immediately retreated, hiding behind those before her, and doing an effective job of slipping behind them so that he could not see her. "She belongs with her people. What do you want with her?" She asked the Doctor.

"I'm doing this for her sake, for Edda's, for Helheim's and for all of you," He barked, impatiently, losing his temper. "Now get out of the way."

The sea of women passed, but they still spat out pleads for him to relinquish her. Esne, meanwhile, stared at him with a pained look on her face, looking scared and miserable but still defiant. He walked towards her. "Esne come."

"Don't, Esne! Run away."

Esne did take several steps to run away, but he had his arms around her midriff before she could escape. "Let her go." He yelled to the surrounding thralls. She gave a shrill hiss of a yell, fingernails digging into his hands, legs thundering against the ground beneath her uselessly. "Go and deal with the storm in whatever ways you deem best, but let me take her. The Highest skald sent me to take her. Esne. Stop!"

And she did.

Esne didn't put up much of a fight as he half carried, half dragged her to the TARDIS. It appeared that she had been stupefied into silence once more, frightened and confused by her surroundings, for she was occupied with watching her world around her, resigned perhaps, to her fate of travelling with him. She couldn't know that that was what was to happen, but it was probable that she could suspect it was. But she didn't offer much resistance. She didn't make it any easier for him, that was true, but nor did she try to escape anymore. As a thrall she would be instantly stronger than him; faster, with more endurance, but she employed none of these natural physical advantages against him. However, her near catatonic state was explained, at least in part, by the sudden coughing fit she endured. She could hardly breathe, it appeared, but he was so close to the TARDIS, and in there she would be able to recuperate. "Breath, Esne," he said into her ear, finding his own lungs aching from over exertion. She breathed.

The old court room was like a stripped out time machine in itself. He had only ever been here when Helheim was quiet, but even now, the storm and the screams barely penetrated the silence this building held, and in the centre, there was his glorious box.

He managed to get the doors open somehow whilst still holding onto the thrall tightly. He dragged her into the TARDIS promptly and felt her entire body shift at the change in atmosphere that she was presented with. She shuddered, in his arms, but was no longer so limp and heavy. After spluttering for a few moments, she rose, and turned. She let out a devilish scream and ran to the closed door, throwing her weight against it and pulling on the handle to get it open. She succeeded, clumsily, her body still weary from the lack of breathable air she had been exposed to, but he had reached her and pulled her away before she could run out. She hissed, spitting furious insults at him, as he closed the door, ignoring her fists drumming on his back, despite the pain, for she was still extremely strong despite her physical weakness. As he moved away, she darted forward, as if adamant to break the doors down with brute force, before the Doctor wrapped his arms around her torso from behind and pulled her away with a grunt. She responded by lurching forward with all her weight, before slamming her head back and head butting him. With a cry, he let her go, stunned, but shook the shock from his head and pursued her back to the door. Arm around her waist and free hand holding the door shut, he exclaimed "stop it, Esne. Stop! Stop. Calm down. You need to rest." And she stopped, and though she didn't go with him when he tries to pull her away, nor did she try to escape again. He took the opportunity to lock the door before ordering her to stay put. She sat down, next to the door, and stared at it, at anything but the interior of the TARDIS and him, as if she was desperate to remain as close as she could to Helheim, for the door was all that she had access to that would permit her to do so. He set the ship in motion, and her eyes remained focused, unblinking, on the door, but she didn't try to open it.