It was remarkable how much hate Leela of the Sevateem could convey with a single, sweeping movement. Her limbs, usually so loose and graceful, tensed with rage, and even Andred – who loved her more than he’d ever thought possible – wondered whether or not he should back away.
He had learned to read her moods over the years. In a manner of speaking. She was not the sort of person you could compare to any sort of book, let alone an open one, but he was able to recognise when she was angry with him, and – much more frequently – when she was angry with another Time Lord.
Life on Gallifrey didn’t suit Leela. She was often angry. The looks – the whispers! – she attracted within the Citadel constantly pushed her towards the edge, although the edge of what Andred didn’t know. He did know that she had only remained here because of him. He was constantly grateful for that. She loved him, and he loved her, and that amounted to happiness, of a sort. It was enough.
Borusa antagonised Leela more than most. Andred expected this was because, although the Doctor had left Gallifrey in the Chancellor’s hands (again) when he departed, Borusa couldn’t forget how close he’d come to losing everything. After all, his slights were directed at the Doctor, and even at Andred himself, just as often as they were directed at Leela.
His wife didn’t care about politics, or wounded Time Lord pride. She cared only about driving her knife into his ungrateful throat.
“That man,” she growled, slamming the chamber door behind her as she entered, “He does not wish me to wear my skins in the Citadel. He says it is inappropriate to show my legs.”
Leela sat heavily down on the bed beside Andred, her eyes shining with fury. Her temper was as wild as she was. It was, in his opinion, only when she was angry that she truly deserved the name ‘savage’. Not that it was a bad thing, of course. He didn’t consider himself her tamer (though he’d heard many people express those sorts of opinions in the cold chambers of the Capitol). She had been the one to change him. He’d never considered anything connected to Gallifrey to be ‘cold’ before meeting Leela. Leela, who burned like a flame, and had changed the universe when she’d arrived on his planet.
“Perhaps they have forgotten that such things exist underneath their heavy Time Lord robes?” she continued sharply, and Andred smiled despite himself. “Perhaps they’re just frightened of you?” he suggested, “Because you’re different.” “I am glad to be different! I would not wish to be like them!”
Her husband smiled softly, and reached over to entwine his fingers with hers. Them. Not him. He and Leela, they were of a sort. Separate. Together.
“I wouldn’t want that either.”
Next: Jamie McCrimmon/Zoe Herriot, Romana II/Reinette Poisson, Victoria Waterfield/Tenth Doctor
Leela/Andred
He had learned to read her moods over the years. In a manner of speaking. She was not the sort of person you could compare to any sort of book, let alone an open one, but he was able to recognise when she was angry with him, and – much more frequently – when she was angry with another Time Lord.
Life on Gallifrey didn’t suit Leela. She was often angry. The looks – the whispers! – she attracted within the Citadel constantly pushed her towards the edge, although the edge of what Andred didn’t know. He did know that she had only remained here because of him. He was constantly grateful for that. She loved him, and he loved her, and that amounted to happiness, of a sort. It was enough.
Borusa antagonised Leela more than most. Andred expected this was because, although the Doctor had left Gallifrey in the Chancellor’s hands (again) when he departed, Borusa couldn’t forget how close he’d come to losing everything. After all, his slights were directed at the Doctor, and even at Andred himself, just as often as they were directed at Leela.
His wife didn’t care about politics, or wounded Time Lord pride. She cared only about driving her knife into his ungrateful throat.
“That man,” she growled, slamming the chamber door behind her as she entered, “He does not wish me to wear my skins in the Citadel. He says it is inappropriate to show my legs.”
Leela sat heavily down on the bed beside Andred, her eyes shining with fury. Her temper was as wild as she was. It was, in his opinion, only when she was angry that she truly deserved the name ‘savage’. Not that it was a bad thing, of course. He didn’t consider himself her tamer (though he’d heard many people express those sorts of opinions in the cold chambers of the Capitol). She had been the one to change him. He’d never considered anything connected to Gallifrey to be ‘cold’ before meeting Leela. Leela, who burned like a flame, and had changed the universe when she’d arrived on his planet.
“Perhaps they have forgotten that such things exist underneath their heavy Time Lord robes?” she continued sharply, and Andred smiled despite himself.
“Perhaps they’re just frightened of you?” he suggested, “Because you’re different.”
“I am glad to be different! I would not wish to be like them!”
Her husband smiled softly, and reached over to entwine his fingers with hers. Them. Not him. He and Leela, they were of a sort. Separate. Together.
“I wouldn’t want that either.”
Next: Jamie McCrimmon/Zoe Herriot, Romana II/Reinette Poisson, Victoria Waterfield/Tenth Doctor