Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Norway - 878 AD. 

A storm was coming. 

The sound of thirty warrior-driven voices pierced the air, all chanting, all rowing the oars of their longship as best they could in the growing waves. Night had fallen, which meant their path home was currently illuminated by hazy moonlight, and much to their annoyance, it had started to rain. 

“Keep calm. Odin, guide us!” 

In true traveler form, they began to sing. 

“Harken will in hall of Kings, on ocean’s steed, my words gain wings - ” 

The water was ruthless, splashing onto their faces as they rocked forcibly from one side to the other. The chanting continued, as did their stubbornness, even as the wind began to pick up, shouting at each other to “keep heaving” and singing and reminding them that Odin was watching, until the water completely drenched the ship, and they had no choice but to stop for a moment. 

Only one man kept singing. 

“The brave men slain, Valkyrjur ways - ” 

“We should aim for the shore. Ride this out tomorrow,” one of the men suggested, ignoring the song. 

“I agree,” another said. 

“No. The longer we take to get back the more chance we’re spotted,” someone else warned, and everyone began to mumble. “We keep going. Skål!” 

“Skål!” 

At that moment, a wave smashed into the side of the ship with more power than any of them could have anticipated, and two men were thrown overboard. Their screams reverberated around them, and frantically the others called their names, standing up just in time to watch as their bodies disappeared behind white foam and darkness beneath it, and suddenly, they were all arguing. 

The rain was coming down harder now, so cold it was almost hail-like as it cut their tattooed, bloodied cheeks, and pounded the wood at their feet. The man who was singing looked out at the moon, not paying attention to his crewmates as they fought over what to do next, and a chill ran through his spine. 

“May horns resound the mighty hall, of those who fight and those who fall…” 

The wind wailed, the ship shook, and the man stopped his chanting, screaming instead as he and all the rest of his crew were tossed to one side, all hitting their heads on the cargo they were carrying. It was a tempest’s symphony, underscored by thunder and lightning, when suddenly they all saw something move in the water. 

“EVERYONE, JUMP!” someone bellowed, but the creature, whatever it was, jumped first, lifting its large body out of the water, and with a hiss it crashed down onto the longship, breaking it in half as it devoured part of the crew. It then slithered away. 

“Is it over?” a man asked. No one said a word. It was so dark they couldn’t tell what had just happened exactly, and none of them cared. Those that remained were simply swimming quickly away from the ship’s remains, trying to get to shore, desperate to save themselves.

“BROTHER!” someone shouted toward the man who had kept singing, reaching for him, but he was clinging to whatever piece of the ship was still available to him, searching the water for the creature rather than moving. “BROTHER, COME ON!” 

He sang. 

“For we who fight, for we who fall -”  

The creature hissed once more, carrying water with it as it rose from the depths, and all anyone could do was close their eyes as it crashed down on them, sending the waves in every possible direction. 

No one heard their final screams. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

The Vortex - time irrelevant.

“How much longer?” Rose Tyler asked as she sipped a cuppa, trying to get the Doctor’s attention, but her voice was overpowered by the music that was blasting through the ship’s com, and she sighed as she began to look around the room. His jacket was laying on the ground near her feet, and she picked it up, dangling it over the grating just to see if he’d notice, but he was rather enthralled with his repairs, and she dropped it where it had been as she tried to watch him work. She could only see the outline of his profile at the moment, and she smiled, because she knew that despite all the complaining he did about the TARDIS’ “indigestion” he truly loved to dote on her, and he was most likely stroking bits of her at that very moment.

“Want me to leave you two alone?” she teased. She could see the tips of his messy hair from under the grating, and she couldn’t help but burst out laughing when she realized that not only was he not paying any attention to her, he was singing at the top of his lungs while his screwdriver buzzed. 

"I don’t give a damn ‘bout my reputation -” 

His fingers drummed along the metal, in perfect syncopation to the beat of the song. 

“Oh, no…. Not me…. WAAAAA-oh…. Not me -” 

With a flourish, he twisted a suspension motor in place and bobbed his head, still singing, before he moved on to axle rods and transient circuits. Given the state of his jacket, his sleeves were up to his elbows and covered in grease, and when Rose caught a glimpse of his forearms in the golden light of the coral, she felt her stomach flip over in the best kind of way. 

“Helloooo? Doctor?!”

“NO! I DON’T GIVE A DAMN ‘BOUT MY BAD REPUTATION!” 

Her smile radiated off of her when he finally popped his head out of the floor and locked eyes with her, and he grinned back. 

“How long have you been there for?!” he yelled over the music, panting lightly. 

“Hello, nice to see you too.” 

"Hello,” he said, smiling, but the music was still playing, and he began to hum. “ROSE! It’s Joan Jett!!! HA!” He turned the music off with a click of his sonic, and he began to wipe his hands clean with a flannel as he joined her by the controls. “Really, though. How long have you been here?”

“In this room? Or since I first came aboard? Because both are the same at this point,” she said, tapping an invisible watch on her wrist. He rolled his eyes. 

“Joan Jett…The Runaways! Absolutely brilliant, she was, and think about it -  if that doesn't fit us, I don’t know what does. Not that we run away. Quite the opposite, but we do run a lot, don’t we? And we -” 

“God, you’re such a punk,” she said, interrupting his ramble, and he smirked. 

“With a bit of rockabilly thrown in,” he chimed, his eyebrows wagging, and they both laughed as his hand patted the coral. The TARDIS hummed in appreciation. “Right! Well, she’s in tip top shape! We can go wherever we want! Do whatever we please! Kayaking through the Nile? Climbing the top of the Ghuruu Mountains? Ooh, we could attend an art festival on Oatuliyan, or go see some music, if you want.” 

“If I want?” she repeated, and he nodded. “Do I get to pick who we see?” 

“Depends,” he murmured as he took her tea out of her hand and sipped it, and he didn’t miss the way her eyes dropped to his bobbing Adam’s apple before they looked back up at his face. “Who’d you have in mind?” 

“What?” 

Her voice was breathier than it had been moments before, and he tried to ignore the way it made the hair on his arms stand up straight. But she was taking him in properly for the first time all day, and he was… It was unfair that he should look like this, actually. His hair was wild and dusty. His chin had a slight smudge of grease on it. His tie had somehow come loose along with his collar, and she had an overwhelming urge to plant her lips to the pulse she saw in his neck as he stared at her. She looked down at his forearms again, her eyes tracing every inch of skin until he cleared his throat, and she snapped out of it. 

“N-Sync,” she said without thinking, and he groaned. “Fine, sorry. Spice Girls.” 

“I just played you Joan Jett - ” 

“- then you should have said that’s who you wanted to see!” 

“N-Sync?!” he scolded, but his eyes were playful, and she felt her entire body flush. “Three years without you, dreaming of all the places I still wanted to take you, and I get you back only to have you demand we go watch bloody N-Sync -” 

“Well, there’d be no strings attached -” 

He burst out laughing, and she smiled brightly as he cupped her cheeks with his palms and gently pressed his lips to hers. She sighed into it, the fact that they do this sort of thing now still entirely out of her realm of understanding, but she didn’t spend time questioning it. Instead she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him toward the jump seat until his knee touched her thigh. His tongue sought permission to find hers, which she accepted gladly, and for several moments they snogged against the controls, his hands dropping from her cheeks to her neck, until she pulled away to catch her breath. 

In all the planning and hoping she’d done when she’d been trying to find her way back to this universe, she never imagined she’d meet a Doctor who was unabashedly ready to admit how he felt to her. She expected a more reserved man than she’d known, in fact. One who had been worn down by loss and would keep her at an even greater distance than before. One who trusted her, but would be scared of her (or scared of losing her, maybe, or perhaps both); who needed reassurance that she didn’t regret her decision to leave her family behind and be there with him, but instead she found him surprisingly vulnerable, and it was still rather impossible to believe. 

Grief does things to a person. 

The day they reunited simultaneously haunted and comforted her dreams. It was two months ago now, back when the universe was falling into darkness with Davros at the helm, and she’d found him on an abandoned street with Donna as the only witness to their embrace. He’d almost been hit by a Dalek as they nothing short of sprinted toward one another, but by some act of grace she’d spotted it first and shot it with her gun, which he didn’t even try to scold her for having as he lifted her off of the ground, holding her so tightly she thought she might actually break in his arms. Jack appeared, as did Martha and her mother and Mickey and Sarah Jane, and more people from Torchwood, and it should go without saying that they saved the universe from total destruction. 

Defenders of the Earth, through and through. 

Mickey was still in this world with her, currently working for Torchwood and dating Martha, whom she’d come to greatly admire. Donna traveled with them often but was currently home taking care of her granddad. Jack showed up every now and again with a wild mission he needed their help with, but her mother was gone. Alive and well, but still gone. The day they saved the Earth she’d asked to pick up Tony and Pete before the walls between the dimensions sealed for good, but when they arrived at Bad Wolf Bay they realized they didn’t have enough time to wait for them, and she chose to stay behind. 

That goodbye was gut-wrenching and bittersweet, but they had both been preparing for it for years, and no amount of protesting from the Doctor would ever change Rose’s mind. She also refused to think about that now, because somehow, after all that time, she got everything she wanted, and every day of her forever was going to be spent aboard the TARDIS with him, just like it used to be, and that was enough. 

Well… maybe not exactly like it used to be. 

He kissed her again, his fingers tangling in her hair, and she moaned softly, sliding her hands across his shirt and up to his open collar, which she began to play with. The kiss deepened, their noses brushing up against one another as she began to unbutton his oxford from the top down, and he helped her - pulling the bottom of it out of his trousers without breaking his kiss. It fell to the floor next to his jacket a moment later, and she tilted her head when his lips descended upon her neck.

He shuddered when she moaned. 

He hadn’t expected this either, of course. He always knew that should he be so lucky as to have Rose come back into his life that he’d be unable to resist what she meant to him, but he didn’t expect sex to be part of the equation. Alien biology. He never really thought about it, but now that he’d experienced it with her, it was quite literally always on his mind. 

She was always on his mind. 

Always. 

“Arms up,” he whispered, and she obliged, squirming as he lifted her shirt above her head and tossed it by his clothing. He cupped her breasts over her bra, kneading and flicking as she gasped, and with a slight growl he eventually propped her up so she was sitting on the edge of the controls. With a moan, his tongue traced feather-light strokes along her collarbone, and she began to fumble with his belt as he pulled back and stared at her, unable to comprehend her beauty in the light of the coral. 

“Wait.” 

Gently, he wrapped his fingers around her wrists and paused her movement. The double beat of his hearts were racing, and she panted as she looked at him, still squirming a little in place, but she didn’t try to break free of his tender grasp. 

“Hello,” he whispered, and she smiled. Desire coursed through her like a wildfire, all consuming, but his eyes bore into hers with an even hotter heat, and he gave her wrists the softest of squeezes, when she suddenly groaned impatiently and stopped his thoughts of gratitude that she was here before they’d really begun. 

He smirked. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, but the next thing he knew she’d caught his lips in a frenzied kiss, and he finally released her hands, giving her permission to rip his belt off and pull him closer until they were both naked, and without words he slowly sank into her. They were done with foreplay, they both knew what they wanted and knew it would be sublime - and as their bodies wrapped themselves around one another they both cried out. This was all still so new, but it was also beyond every possible expectation, and for as long as his hearts might continue to beat, he will never understand how they never did this sooner. 

He groaned her name as her hips thrusted to meet his pace, seeking friction. “ Ohhh, Rose…” 

A squeaky sound escaped her lips that stirred primal something in him, and as he rocked into her he leaned her body back against the controls, supporting her with his arm so she didn’t get stabbed by any of them. He nibbled a trail of love-bites along her hips and ribs, and he moved fluidly, panting and catching almost every noise she made with a wet kiss, and when she wrapped her legs around his waist, he discovered whatever control he’d had left was gone, and he was lost in her . Lost to her. Would be completely lost without her.  

He knew from experience. 

“You feel… incredible,” he groaned, trying not to think about that when her soft skin was cupped in his hands, and she nodded. 

“You…oh….”  

She could imagine his smug smirk at her inability to form a thought, but for some reason that spurred her on more, and her fingers roamed his entire body, wishing there was a way to hold him closer than she already was. They kept pace with the pulse of time beneath their feet, and he whispered words of encouragement in her ear, begging her to come for him, his movements growing frantic and needy as her moans grew louder and more desperate, and when her cheeks flushed and the most ecstatic scream reverberated from her chest into his, he found himself not far behind, his limbs turning to jello as the gnawing, desirable tension he felt in his gut released. 

“ R-r-rose - ffffu-”  he gasped, and without realizing what he was doing, his hand accidentally moved the lever as he came hard, chanting her name, but before he’d completely come down from his high and they had a chance to catch their breaths, the TARDIS was on the move. 

They were both thrown to the floor in surprise. 

“OW!” he cried when his back slammed against the grating, and she bursted out laughing. He looked up quickly, his legs tingling as he tried to figure out what had happened, but she continued to laugh, and his heartbeat began to settle when he realized they were safe. They were just… traveling. 

He looked over at her, watching as she slowly sat up and tucked her hair behind her ear, and she leaned her forehead on his shoulder. He smiled. “Fancy a trip?” 

“I think she was sending us a message to stop shagging in here,” she chuckled, and he winked as he slowly kissed her head. Their bodies felt light and sated, and she hummed happily as she stood, feeling the familiar pulse of the TARDIS getting ready to land radiating through the room, and she made her way over the monitor to see where they were. 

"Ah-ah-ah, wait, come here,” he said instantly, pulling her away and back into his arms. One hand firmly pressed into her lower back, and the other twisted the monitor away from them so they couldn’t see it.  “I reckon it’ll be more fun not knowing, hm?” She bit her lip, unable to hide her smile as he sniffed and looked back at the door. “Probably should put some clothes on.” 

“Thought you don’t care ‘bout your reputation,” she teased, and he raised an eyebrow at her, her wit and banter sending a fuzzy feeling into the air. He opened his mouth for a comeback, but with a sly grin she bent down and grabbed his jacket, and when she wrapped it around her naked body he forgot what he was going to say. 

“That’s…erm…” 

“Wanna take a peek?” she whispered, her voice dripping in flirtation, and he cleared his throat, unable to understand how a bloody jacket could have him feeling aroused again, and her hand slipped into his perfectly as she led him to the door. Before she could open it, however, he had her pressed against the railing, and his fingers were brushing over her right breast beneath the pinstriped fabric. 

“Do you know what you do to me?” he said in her ear, and the gravelly tone of his voice made her sigh. “Everything you do, Rose… Everything… it…” 

His thumb grazed her nipple, and she whimpered. For several seconds, he teased her, watching her reaction, and he began to kiss her jaw. 

“I know we just… but… you… I missed you,” he admitted, and she kissed him, shimmying her body out of his jacket so she could wrap her arms around his neck. 

“I missed you, too,” she whispered, and he nodded, pressing his forehead against hers as the emotions he’d not been able to shake since he saw her on that street came flooding back at once, and he guided his fingers down… down… down… until she gasped as he touched her. 

“Bedroom,” he insisted, and the new ground they had waiting for them stayed a mystery as they explored sweeter terrain, their voices echoing through the ship as they wasted no time making up for lost time. 

(Someone knocked at the door.) 

Chapter Text

He had just adjusted his tie when she walked out of the ensuite, freshly showered and wearing a pair of jeans and a green camisole. He winked at her as she tied her hair up in a ponytail, and his eyes followed every move she made for several seconds, watching her put on her trainers, then a jacket, then a swipe or two of mascara. 

Her jimjams were crumbled in a pile next to the bed - the result of the previous night’s lovemaking - and on the vanity near the door sat most of her make-up and personal items. The book she was currently reading was on the nightstand, and he knew that if he were to open the closet he’d find half of it was filled with an assortment of her clothes in addition to his, including her first proper pair of running shoes (right next to his red chucks). As she slipped her hoop earrings into place, he found himself looking around the room at more things he never imagined would be possible. The strands of blonde hair on his pillow. The particular smell of lavender wafting in the air. The second toothbrush on his sink… Their sink. 

Moving her out of her old room and into his was a process that happened rather organically, though never with an “official” invitation. One wasn’t needed. The moment they left Jackie at Bad Wolf Bay and were alone, safe in this universe, he didn’t think twice. He simply brought her to his bed and held her close while she allowed herself to feel the loss for a little while, his fingers rubbing her back, until it started to settle that they’d survived . They were together. They talked and talked and talked, and cried, and laughed, and talked some more, until the talking turned to gazing, and the gazing turned to kissing, and one thing led to another, and… well… she’d slept there every night since. 

Admittedly, he still didn’t sleep much. He blamed time, and its constant reminder that it’s always moving, always ticking, always inching him closer to losing all that he cares about, and while he’d willingly made the choice to stop running from how he felt, at times he still found getting this close fairly terrifying. He was, dare he say it, atrociously happy , but the more open he was with her the more the idea of losing her again threatened to stop his hearts to the degree that they would never restart, and somehow not sleeping so he could watch her breathe through the night helped. It was better than sleep, really. Far more peaceful. 

(He despises nightmares, he really does.)

And every morning, the devotion he felt when she opened her eyes and it dawned on him that he was the first thing she was seeing still startled him. Even beyond that, just being able to look at them - her eyes -  the perfect mix of hazel brown with a hint of green he had been so afraid of forgetting was often too much, and every morning when he said “hello” this flutter filled his gut the way it had back on that abandoned street, back when she was just a memory; a figment of his imagination; a drawing in a journal he’d once made when he’d forgotten everything else, even his own name. The words Donna said rang in his ears almost every day, underscoring every adventure, every meal, every laugh and kiss and passionate shag.

Why don’t you ask her yourself?

He smiled softly as he drew small circles in Gallifreyan on the dresser, still watching her get ready for their day, and he noticed when she noticed what he was doing. She was absolutely radiant in green, he thought, and when her tongue-in-cheek smile greeted him from across the room he couldn’t help but reciprocate with the most idiotic grin.

“You alright, there?” she asked as she walked over to him. He nodded. 

“Oh, yes,” he murmured. “Ready to go?”

“Almost,” she said, and he watched as she reached behind him and grabbed her TARDIS key, still on the silver chain he gave her so very long ago, and draped it over her neck. He swallowed hard, genuinely surprised when he felt a burning sensation sting his eyes, but he cleared his throat and blinked it away quickly. 

It didn’t go unnoticed. With a squeeze to his arm, she kissed him, and he made the softest of sounds as he placed his hand on her hip, his thumb lightly circling her belt loop, until she pulled back and gave him another signature smile. 

“There’d better be chips,” she said. 

“Mmm…And cake,” he added, grinning madly yet again as he took her hand, and together they walked out to the console room. 

They stopped when they heard a bang at the door. 

“Wait here.”

“Hold on, check where we are first,” she suggested, pointing to the monitor she still couldn’t read, but he was already pulling his screwdriver out of his pocket and approaching the door, smiling as he opened it, ready to be clever and charming and get them out of whatever situation they might have landed into, but much to his surprise, a small child stood before him, holding up a fish. 

A dead fish. 

“Hello!” he chimed, kneeling down so he was at her eye-level. “What do you have there?” 

“Am I dead?” the child asked, and the Doctor’s brow furrowed deeply, his smile falling away. 

“...Why do you ask that?” 

The child held the fish up, and the Doctor just looked at it, not sure what to do. She couldn’t be more than four or five, with blonde hair that could rival Rose’s tied back in an intricate braid. She wore a simple brown frock with no shoes, and he couldn’t help but notice that her face was smeared with dirt. He opened his mouth to speak, but something stopped him.

She held up the fish again. 

“For you. I don’t want to die. Mother will be sad.” 

“You’re not dying,” he insisted, and he sensed when Rose approached. Their eyes met for a moment as she sat down next to him, but when she held out her hand to greet the child, the fish was placed in it instead. 

“Oh, um…” Rose began, but rather than deny her, she smiled and tried to ignore the feeling of the scales (and the smell.) “Thank you. What’s your name, sweetheart?” 

“INGRID!” they heard someone call, and both Rose and the Doctor glanced up just as a tall, pale, burly man came striding toward them. “Ingrid! What are you doing?!”

“Father!” the girl shouted ecstatically, running toward him. He scooped her up in his arms and looked at the Doctor and Rose in contemplation, though there was something in his eye that was alarming. “The blue gate, Father! The Jötnar! I thought I was dead!” 

“The what?” Rose whispered, but the Doctor looked behind the girl for the first time, starting to let his curiosity get the best of him. Tall, snow-capped mountains surrounded what appeared to be a village. The ground was covered in snow as well, though it had been shoveled to the side so it was safe to walk the dirt roads, and he noticed there was definite chill in the air. The sun was setting beyond the horizon, and the buildings that surrounded them were wooden, many with painted rooftops that resembled some kind of ship. Dogs roamed freely, as did children and squirrels. Many people seemed to be on their way home, some carrying rabbit pelts on their backs, others with buckets of water, some with mead, and when he looked to his left he saw a swirl of lights starting to become visible in the darkening sky, and he let out a happy sound. 

“Aurora Borealis!” he cheered, and Ingrid (and her father) gave him a startled look. “Is this Norway?!” 

Rose’s attention snapped to him. 

“Who are you?” the man asked hotly. The Doctor grinned. 

“Must be what, 9th century or so?” he continued, sniffing, but before he could use his sonic screwdriver to confirm, Ingrid started to cry, and the playful mood fell away. When he spoke next, he was cautious. “It’s alright, you’re okay. I’m the Doctor.” 

“I’m Rose.” 

Together, they stepped off the TARDIS. 

“Am - am- am I dying?” Ingrid asked again, and the Doctor’s eyebrow raised inquisitively as he looked at her father. “The blue gate, Father. The Jötnar…Jotunheim…M-mother said -” 

“That’s not the gate, dove,” her father said softly, still watching the Doctor with hesitancy. “You are very much alive. No Jötnar are here today. I promise.”

Rose watched as Ingrid sniffled and asked her father if he was sure. He kissed her head and assured her she was safe before he placed her on the ground, and with his body blocking her view of the TARDIS told her to run along to find her mother. She bolted away instantly, and her father sighed as he watched her go, then looked back at the Doctor. 

“What is your purpose here, Doctor?” he demanded. For the first time, Rose noticed his hair was just as blonde as Ingrid’s, though it looked darker with the amount of dirt that was in it. He also had an array of tattoos on his upper arm and neck in a language she couldn’t read, and she began to play with her earring, waiting to see what would happen. 

“Why was she asking about the Jötnar?” the Doctor asked. 

“You are strangers here. Answer the question. What is your purpose?” Ingrid’s father snapped angrily, and Rose saw he was reaching for an ax  that was tucked in a belt around his waist. She stepped forward. 

“We’re travelers,” she explained calmly. “Just passing through. We can leave, if you’d like.” 

“The Jötnar are a myth,” the Doctor continued, oblivious to the threat for a moment as the wheels in his head turned quickly, and his voice raised an octave or so in contemplation. “Jotunheim, too. Why did she think she was dead?”

“Doctor -” Rose warned. 

“What is that? The blue… whatever that is?” Ingrid’s father asked, pointing to the TARDIS, and the Doctor looked over his shoulder. The old girl had shut her doors, and Rose took another step forward. 

“It’s a… ship,” she explained. “We don’t mean any harm. We’re just passing through, yeah?” 

“That’s no ship,” the man growled, his hand on his ax, and the Doctor finally realized what was about to happen just as it was pulled from its holder, and he grabbed Rose immediately. The man let out a cry as he swung the ax, but when they dodged he hit the edge of the TARDIS. 

The Doctor tugged on Rose’s hand, and he said one word, just one word. 

“RUN!” 

They beamed at each other as they ducked again to avoid being hit, and they took off, pushing anyone who might be in their way to the side with a jumbled apology. The Doctor kept looking back to see where the Viking Man was(that’s what he was calling him in his head - Viking Man), and he had to give him credit; he was fast. He was gaining on them quickly, and as they turned the corner into what must be the village’s epicenter, they found themselves surrounded by a number of different shops, including a stable. 

“Get on the horse,” the Doctor instructed, ushering her towards a Palomino that was grazing on some hay. 

“What?”

“Rose, now!” 

He grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, and in a matter of seconds had somehow helped her up onto the horse’s back. There was no saddle or reins, or at least there wasn’t enough time to find any and get them situated. He gave her an apologetic look for that, fully aware she was probably a bit too tender to be riding bareback thanks to their insatiable libidos, but when they both heard Viking Man scream from several feet away, the Doctor patted the horse, giving it the green light. 

It whinnied. 

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU GONNA DO?!” Rose protested as the horse began to trot in a circle, and she gripped its mane. “OI! I CAN’T RIDE A BLOODY HORSE! Get up here!!!” 

He opened his mouth to speak, but the ax came flying at them, and it landed with a whoosh on a wooden pillar near Rose’s head. He panicked when it split the wood, and she screamed, which seemed to startle the horse enough to start to canter, and he watched in relief when she was carried away under the Northern Lights. 

“HALT!” Viking Man bellowed, throwing another ax he’d somehow gotten his hands on, and this time the Doctor fell to the ground. It landed just below the other one, and the remaining horses began to neigh in surprise. “Where is your honor?!” 

“Oh, for the love of…” the Doctor muttered, but a third ax was thrown (really, where was he even getting them?!) and he had no choice but to roll behind the wall of the stable, covering his pinstripes in hay and mud as he grabbed a horseshoe and chucked it at Viking Man, who tossed it to the side with a swipe of another ax . 

The clinking noise of the two metals striking each other reverberated in his ear, and he looked around frantically for something to protect himself with. 

All he had was a pitchfork. 

“Okay, okay, okay, let’s just slow down. Rose already told you - we’re just travelers -” he began as Viking Man approached, and he hopped to his feet with the fork at the ready. People were starting to gather around, some cheering, some drunk, some simply curious, and he didn’t want this to escalate. He sighed. “What’s your name?” 

“WHAT IS YOUR PURPOSE HERE?!” 

“ Trav-el-ing,” the Doctor repeated, like he was talking to a toddler. “Let me guess. Is it… Bjørk? Frederick? ...Alan?” 

“What did you say to my daughter?” 

“Nothing!” the Doctor replied, but Viking Man raised his arm again, and he held the fork higher. “Alan, we don’t have to - “ 

The ax came toward him, and the Doctor blocked it with the prongs of the fork, though he realized instantly it wasn’t going to do much in the long run. More onlookers began to observe the action, and someone shouted at Viking Man, calling him ‘Gorm’, babbling on about ‘valor’ and telling him he couldn’t fight the Doctor if he didn’t have an ax, too. 

“Oh, no, no, no, no -” the Doctor begged, but Gorm was being handed a different (larger) weapon, and he glared at the Doctor as he passed him his ax. 

“They are right. Take it,” he instructed coldly, and the Doctor looked at him with his mouth half-agape, the reality of this absurd situation crashing down on him. But if there was one thing he knew about old nordic tradition, it was that dueling was taken rather seriously, and since, for some reason, that was exactly what he was in the middle of, the outcome would be much worse for him (and Rose) if he didn’t participate. 

So he dropped the pitchfork, and folded his hand around the handle of the ax. 

The fight fair, Gorm charged at him instantly, and for several moments they clinked and clamored, sparks flying as they hit one another’s blades. Gorm seemed almost impressed that he was keeping up with him, though the Doctor was sure he’d never admit it. He was surprising himself just as much. Sure, he’d done a bit of dueling in the past, but it had been with swords, and the ax was… stubby? Stupid? Small and hard to swing? Irritating? All of the above? 

He shook his head to refocus, and he supposed he couldn’t be too upset. Whatever he was doing seemed to be working and that was good enough for him. It went on for a few minutes, and eventually he started to push back, initiating some intricate footwork and dodging every one of Gorm’s attempts to stop him when he suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a horse approaching. His stomach flipped, and he looked over for half a second just as Rose called his name. 

Gorm immediately wrapped him in a chokehold, his ax ready. 

“LET HIM GO!” Rose screamed, trying to help, but she was having trouble stopping the horse, and in an effort to slow it down she grabbed onto the first thing she saw, which happened to be one of the axes in the pillar. It came out of the wood in one motion as the horse nearly trampled everyone, and the crowd gasped and stumbled back, delighted. She dropped the ax on the ground and jumped off the horse as it ran away, landing with a hard thud on her side she knew was going to bruise, but adrenaline was coursing through her, and the only thing she could focus on were the centimeters between the Doctor’s neck and Gorm’s blade. 

She picked up her ax. 

“I said - let him go .” 

“ Rose, ” the Doctor rasped, coughing. Gorm sneered, and he raised his ax.

“What is this?!” a new voice demanded, piercing the air, and Gorm’s arm stiffened. “What is happening?” 

Rose turned toward the voice, spotting a tall man standing at the bottom of a set of stairs that led to a banquet hall. He was quite muscular, and his ginger hair was tied back with a piece of leather, accentuating a tattoo around his eye that gave him a commanding presence. He wore full plated armor, complete with his own set of axes and a cloak made of bearskin, and he glided over to them, eyeing Rose in particular. “Gorm, release him.” 

“Jarl, Sigurd. They -” 

“Release. Him,” Sigurd instructed, and with a mumble Gorm did as he was told. The Doctor gasped as he fell to the ground and reached for his neck, loosening his tie. Rose was at his side a moment later, and he couldn’t help but smile at her. 

“What’s more fun, me or the horse?” 

“Shut up, are you okay?” she asked under her breath, and he nodded as he wrapped his arms around her. Sigurd watched with his head tilted to the side thoughtfully. 

“And where are you from, drengr?” he asked the Doctor. “Your language. Your clothing. Your accents. They are unfamiliar, yet you fight well. Both of you.” 

“London,” Rose sighed, rubbing the Doctor’s back, who sniffed as he took her hand and stood. “We’re just traveling. We didn’t mean any harm or offense.” 

“ London ?” Sigurd purred, the syllables like butter on his tongue, and the Doctor noticed a strange gleam in his eye. “Ah, yes. Yes, of course you are… That is in England, is it not?”

“Yes,” the Doctor answered, not quite sure what to make of this man, and more than curious to understand why he stopped Gorm. Everyone around them began to chat amongst themselves - gossiping, or perhaps bored by the lack of action-  and the Doctor cleared his throat. “What’s this place called?” 

“You do not know?" he asked. The Doctor just looked at him. "Gorm did not introduce you?"

"He was a bit busy throwing axes," Rose muttered. Sigurd's nostrils flared, but he smiled.

"Well, allow me. This, drengr, is Asgardstrand!” he replied proudly, opening his arms wide. “It is home to the largest and most abundant clan in the entire Danish realm. My name, as you've heard, is Sigurd Ragnulf. I am the Jarl. I see you have met my Jomsviking, Gorm Ragnarrson. How did you come to arrive?”

“What does all of that mean?” Rose whispered. 

“He’s basically a king. Gorm is his right hand man,” the Doctor muttered in her ear before he began to answer Sigurd's question. “Right! Well, I’m the Doctor, this is my…”

He stopped, thinking the word ‘friend’ didn’t quite suffice these days but also sort of despising the idea of merely calling her his ‘girlfriend’, and he frowned. Rose stifled a laugh, knowing exactly what was bothering him when the skin between his brows began to crease, and she decided to make it easier for him. 

“I’m Rose,” she said, squeezing his hand. “We were -” 

“They had a ‘ship’, Sigurd,” Gorm interrupted. “Or so they claim… It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever seen, and it wasn’t by the docks.” 

“Where was it?” Sigurd asked. 

“Near the cliffs,” Gorm answered, and the Doctor and Rose shared a glance. “It was blue. My Ingrid was giving them a fish I’d caught for her this morning. She thought they were Jötnar.” 

All the extraneous chatting stopped. 

For a moment, it was deathly silent. 

Sigurd, however, began to laugh mirthfully, and he crossed his muscular arms across his chest. “And this was the reason you challenged them?”

“Jarl, they are outsiders. Given the state of things, I was trying to -”

Sigurd held up his hand, his face still smiling, but his eyes clearly told Gorm to stop talking. 

“We are a hospitable clan, you know this, brother… And as the only one of us who has ever seen any Jötnar, I assure you, you need not worry. Did these two strangers offer any reason other than this blue ship that made you question them?”

“Ingrid -” 

“- is safe, yes?” Sigurd asked, looking to his right, where Ingrid and her mother were watching with wide eyes. Gorm inhaled sharply when he saw them, his chest rising and falling slowly, and Sigurd clapped his arm before he turned his attention back to Rose and the Doctor. 

“What is your purpose?” he asked calmly. 

“We’re just traveling,” Rose answered. “We don’t have one, really. We came here without knowing what we’d find. It was just…”

“An adventure,” the Doctor finished, winking at her, and Sigurd smirked. The crowd watched with bated breath as he took a step toward Rose, his eyes tracing the outline of her face in a way that made the Doctor feel rather possessive, but he made no effort to touch her. Instead, he grabbed the ax she had dropped and handed it back to her, then bowed. It was a sign of respect, she realized, and when she took it he nodded, then turned his attention to the hall behind him. 

“Both of you have a fire in your blood that echoes the mightiest warriors. I sense it. As I said, the Asgardstrand clan strives to be accepting and welcoming of all. Many of our members come from places outside of Norway. I apologize for Gorm’s rashness.” 

“Jarl, please, I was only -” Gorm tried to interject, but Sigurd shot him a look, and he swallowed his words.

“And I must say, your faces tell a story that I’d like to hear. As a traveler myself, I would hate for Asgardstrand to be a black mark on your map. Therefore I say welcome! You may stay as long as you wish. Gather what you need for the rest of your journeys… There is a blacksmith, should new weapons be of interest before you go. The stable. A trading post. I will have my sister, Revna, set up rooms for you if you desire a place to rest. But first, come. Feast with us, won’t you?” he said, gesturing toward the hall, and it was then that they all heard the music that was being played inside with lutes, fifes, and drums. 

The Doctor looked at Rose, who was folding her lip between her teeth. Neither spoke, but they knew they were thinking the same thing - that the little girl with her dead fish had intrigued them enough to stay long before any mention of the “state of things,” and while Rose had no idea what the Jötnar were, the Doctor certainly did, and she knew he was dying to figure out why everyone was so bothered by them.

There also seemed to be some sort of trouble stirring between the two men in charge, and that meant they couldn’t leave even if they wanted to. 

He squeezed her hand. 

“Thank you,” he said. “We’d be honored.” 

“Wonderful!” Sigurd rejoiced, clapping his hands, and he began to walk back up the stairs so he could ring a large bell, signaling the start of the feast. Everyone began to file in, including the dogs that had been roaming the streets, and Gorm slipped his ax back into his belt without so much as looking at Rose or the Doctor before he stomped off, too.

Chapter Text

The moment they walked into the hall, they realized it was much larger than it appeared. 

A fire warmed the room from several feet away, illuminating a hallway that led to several closed doors. It was designed like a long rectangle, one that seemed to stretch on, and the main room they were currently in was a complete party. Three large wooden tables were covered in meat and bread. Benches sat on either side, littered with bodies enjoying the festivities, and for a region that didn’t have access to salt , the air smelled surprisingly aromatic. Music played merrily, a fiddle now accompanying the lute, fife and drums, and the notes were ethereal - rising up to the ceiling that was covered in carvings of Norse Gods and runes. They looked ancient, yet they felt mystical, and Rose couldn’t help but marvel at them, her eyes glued to the ceiling as she traced each letter and figure slowly. 

ᚺᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᛞᛁᚾ, ᛟᚾᛖ ᛖᛖᛞ ᚹᚨᚱᚱᛁᛟᚱ, ᚠᚨᛏᚺᛖᚱ ᚨᛚᛚ

The Doctor, meanwhile, was watching Sigurd, who had a tankard in his hand and was gulping his mead down frivolously as he greeted several members of his clan. His presence was unmistakable. Everyone admired him - even little Ingrid, who seemed to have forgotten about her fish and was playing with other children, showing off for Sigurd by running around the room with laughter and smiles. 

(Then there was Gorm, sulking in the corner.)

They should sit down and eat, he thought. It’s what Sigurd was expecting, and if they had any hope of learning more about this place they had to at least somewhat assimilate. Besides, even without potential problem solving, he was starting to remember that he had shagged her mercilessly twice before engaging in a very active duel, and if he was feeling hungry, he knew she must be starving. So he peeled his eyes away from Sigurd and cleared his throat, turning to ask her where she wanted to sit, but he felt the words die on his tongue when he saw the look of awe on her face. 

Oh.

Without warning, he felt himself fall. It was dizzying, actually, the way the ground practically opened up beneath him, pulling him toward her orbit and away from all rational thought. It had been so long since he'd seen her look like that, so softly enamored by whatever piece of history she was witnessing, and his eyes danced across her face, unable to look away. Somehow, time hadn’t done its damage to her the way it could others. If anything, it made her stronger. She had experienced loss and had fought against it, had crossed universes, even, yet she was still unabashedly Rose , still able to appreciate every small thing traveling had to offer. It was as thrilling to witness now as it was when they had stood on apple grass, and he began to focus on the way the skin of her cheeks glowed against the light of the fire, the double pa-pum of his hearts completely out of control.  

That was all it took, apparently. Give him Rose Tyler and a bit of gold light, and he might as well be right back on Satellite 5, as entranced as he ever was, realizing how much he belonged to her. How he would do anything for her. How just the sight of her was enough for him to strive to do the impossible and give up everything he had to keep her safe - except this time her life wasn’t in danger and he didn’t have to worry about any of that. Her beauty was all that burned, and they were together, and when her tongue traced the corner of her mouth he had to actively tell himself to snap out of this trance before he either made love to her on top of mutton or fell down an existential rabbit hole and began to overthink how lucky he was. 

With a deep breath, he chose to try and figure out what she was looking at, following her captivating gaze to the ceiling. 

ᚺᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᛞᛁᚾ, ᛟᚾᛖ ᛖᛖᛞ ᚹᚨᚱᚱᛁᛟᚱ, ᚠᚨᛏᚺᛖᚱ ᚨᛚᛚ

“That’s one of the earliest known alphabets,” he said in her ear as he took a step closer to her, and she felt her heart skip a beat, not expecting his voice to be so low and silky. “The Elder Futhark, it’s called. Dates all the way back to the 1st century…Though, well… This set of letters appears to be specific to this region of Scandinavia. The more common characters are Germanic in origin...” 

Their eyes met, his burning into hers with an intensity that shot straight through her, and she smiled wolfishly at him. “Does that mean you can’t read it?”

His brow raised, and her tongue came to rest between her teeth, relishing the sudden flirtation dripping between them as he cleared his throat and cocked his head to the side knowingly. “Hail Odin. One-eyed warrior. Father all.” 

“Impressive.”

“Yes, I believe I’ve told you so.” 

His arm snaked around her waist, sighing contentedly when she rolled her eyes and let her head fall against his shoulder. He pressed his lips to her hair, inhaling the scent of her lavender shampoo before finally looking back out at the feast, and he gave her body a small squeeze as gestured toward the table. 

“After you,” he whispered. 

His smile was the kind that could wax poetry, his eyes still teeming with want, and she was suddenly pulled into his orbit just as drastically as he had been. She had no control over the way her fingers laced themselves in his hair and drew him into a hard kiss, and it wasn’t a sweet, timid peck. It was hungry and open-mouthed, and for a fraction of a second, a small voice in the back of her head told her to stop. This dynamic was still so new, so raw, so theirs, and they’d only taken a handful of trips since they’d reunited. And while public displays of affection had been rather rampant on them, she supposed, this was their first time back in time, and she didn’t know what was allowed. But much to her delight, he caressed her cheeks immediately, still smiling as he returned the kiss with equal fervor, savoring her taste with his tongue before he pulled away. 

“Rose Tyler, I -” 

Both of them jumped a little when Sigurd was suddenly there, handing them literal horns filled with mead, either just drunk enough to be oblivious to what he’d just interrupted or too mirthful to care. 

“Skål, drengr!” he said, and Rose bit her lip as she took her horn. Reluctantly, the Doctor let her go so he could do the same. “Have either of you had anything to eat?”

“Was just about to,” the Doctor replied, and Rose shot him a look, well aware he was not talking about food . He winked at her, delighted by her blushing cheeks, but Sigurd seemed to take it as an invitation to walk them over to one of the tables, and he sat down beside them as he handed them mutton that was still on the bone. 

“Drink! Then eat! Those are the only rules here,” he chimed. Rose took a small sip, surprised to find it sweetened with honey and much more tolerable than she would have imagined, and she impressed both men when she swallowed the rest in one gulp. The Doctor smirked, and Sigurd let out a bellowing laugh. “Easy, sӕta. If these sea-swept bastards see you drink like that, they are likely to challenge you and take all the coin you might have in your purse.”

“You say that like you have experience,” she replied, and Sigurd smiled at her, more impressed with her by the minute. 

“I imagine feasts in England are quite different, are they not?” 

“A bit, yeah,” Rose admitted, and she shared a glance with the Doctor who was taking his own sip. He enjoyed it more than he expected as well, though he took his time, watching the festivities with a curious eye. “How often do you do them?”

“Once a week. Sometimes twice, if we can,” Sigurd said. “It’s good for morale as you can see. The clan coming together… It’s something for everyone to look forward to. We have a group of hunters and gatherers who make the necessary arrangements. Some days they spend hours in the woods trying to catch deer or boar. Some days they are in the markets, shopping for ingredients. We owe them many thanks.”  

“How long have you been Jarl?” the Doctor mused, finishing his drink, which Sigurd noticed. And rather than answer his question, he raised his tankard in the air. 

“WE NEED ANOTHER!” he cried, and everyone in the room stomped their feet in celebration as a woman with long brown hair poured the next round into every cup. The music had picked up in tempo, and some people had gotten up to dance, while others were practicing ax throwing at straw dummies that were lined up outside. 

Gorm, however, was still sulking. 

“It’s been two winters,” Sigurd said as he slammed his tankard back onto the table. “My father had the honor before he ventured into Valhalla. He was a brave man.” 

“What’s that?” Rose asked. Sigurd, however, gestured toward her food, waiting for her to take a bite before he continued. It wasn’t seasoned, but it was cooked well, and the moment her stomach processed what was happening it rumbled, far hungrier than she’d realized. The Doctor grabbed her some bread, too, and for a moment, Sigurd just watched them, noticing the way she thanked him with a slight nudge to his side and the way he smiled at her. He cleared his throat, claiming their attention. 

“It’s where the mightiest of warriors rest,” he explained as Rose finished her mutton. “Every choice we make here in Midgard is so that we can earn our place in Valhalla.”

“That’s what they call Earth - Midgard,” the Doctor explained when Rose still looked confused. “To the Norse, death isn’t something to be feared, but respected. And if they die honorably, then when faced with their fate Odin will allow them into Valhalla, but if they die in disgrace, then they are doomed to Helheim.”

“Odin decides?” 

“The King of Asgard, our most prolific God,” Sigurd said, and his eyes locked with the Doctor’s. “You seem to know quite a lot about our customs for an Englishman.” 

“ Well… ” he croaked in the way Rose loved. “Travel as long as I have, you pick up a thing or two.” 

“Indeed,” Sigurd hummed, sipping his mead. “How long has that been?”

“More than two winters,” the Doctor said, not elaborating further, and Sigurd laughed thoughtfully.

“So, you’ve spent a lot of time in Norway?”

Rose dropped her horn. 

“Sorry,” she half-whispered, bending down to pick it up, and the Doctor clenched his jaw when he looked at her. The wistful expression her face has been wearing all evening was fading suddenly, and she tucked her hair behind her ears, blinking once or twice as she set the horn on the table. “Sorry, I, um…” 

“Rose?” he said, reaching for her arm, but she turned to look at Sigurd. 

“Been here once or twice,” she said hoarsely, and like a freight train, what must have been circling in the back of her mind this entire time, hit him. He closed his eyes. 

Oh, he was a proper idiot, wasn’t he? 

How had he not thought about that? How had he not had the wherewithal to ask her if being here was something she was ready for, or something she wanted to do, even? As per usual, he didn’t give her a choice. He just started talking to Ingrid with no regard for what it might mean to her, and sure, it might have been a parallel version, but how could he have stood there with a smile on his face rattling on about Aurora Borealis when the only instances she’d had anything to do with this place were ones rooted in goodbye? 

When he had been just an image. 

When they left Jackie on the sand. 

“We’ve had a long day,” he barked suddenly, opening his eyes and almost glaring at Sigurd. “You said there was a room we could stay in?” 

“Oh. Oh, yes, of course,” Sigurd responded, taken aback by the abruptness of the Doctor’s shift in behavior, and Rose sighed. “My sister is around here somewhere, she will -” 

“No, it’s okay,” she said, sneaking her hand onto the Doctor’s knee, and his throat tightened when she gave it a firm squeeze. “I don’t want to go to bed yet. I’m having a nice time. Maybe I can have another drink?” 

“Rose, no, we -” 

“I want to stay,” she whispered, and when their eyes locked she gave him a small smile, nodding her head to assure him she meant it. He stared at her for several seconds. 

“...Are you sure?” 

“Of course,” she said softly. “You’re here .” 

The mood shifted instantly, and Sigurd watched the Doctor’s face melt in understanding. He could hear every word they said and he was rather intrigued by them, but the intensity of the look they were suddenly giving each other finally made him realize he might be impeding on something, and he got up to get them each one more drink.

The Doctor pulled her into a hug, the coolness of his touch instantly comforting. She smiled, burying her face in the crook of his neck so she could lightly press her lips to his collar, and when her breath hit his skin he chuckled a little despite himself, squeezing her tighter. 

“New New Norway, then?” he asked slowly, partly joking. 

“In a way, sure,” she said, pulling away to stare at him, and he sighed. “It’s over. I’m okay. And if it starts to feel… I dunno… I’ll tell you. I promise.” 

“Okay,” he said, and he let go of her just enough that she could turn and grab another slice of bread. The fiddle and lute were still coaxing the air, and he inhaled deeply as a group of men began to sing. 

“Ooooh, ohhhh, mmmm….Hooooo, ohhhh -” 

A traditional Nordic chant began, with harmonies and percussion, and they both turned to watch. The men were sitting near the fire, their bodies swaying as they let the music say what it wanted to for a moment, and more people began to stop and listen. It was ritualistic, almost, and the more voices that began to join in the more epic it felt, rising in intensity and pitch and volume until it reached a resounding crescendo, and as the final note trilled Rose could almost swear she saw something in the flames move. 

“Doctor…” 

“Hm?” 

“SKÅL!” Sigurd said, suddenly at their side again with their drinks, which they took wordlessly as Sigurd sat down beside them.“Tell me, drengr! How long have you two married?”

“What ?” the Doctor almost squeaked, and Rose spit up her mead. They looked at each other, his eyes falling to her lips, and when he spoke next, his voice was softer than he meant it to be. "We're not.” 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sigurd chastised with slurred words, and the Doctor sighed, not hiding his irritation. “As Jarl, I could perform a ceremony tomorrow. Revna could find something for Rose to wear, we could -” 

“What was that song they were all singing?” Rose asked, and the Doctor’s eyes fell shut, aware she was interrupting for his benefit. “It was beautiful.” 

“Ah, yes it is,” Sigurd replied, too drunk to care that the subject had been changed. “That, drengr, was a lullaby. We sing it toward the end of every feast. It tells the story of how Thor defeated Jӧrmungandr and saved the Nine Realms.” 

“The bloke with the hammer?” she asked, and the Doctor smirked. 

“God of Thunder,” he corrected, amused. Sigurd nodded. 

“More specifically, he is the God of Storms. Thunder is his main weapon of attack, but lightning, fire, water, wind… He can use them all. Jӧrmungandr was a serpent who lived below Midgard and was destined to bring about it’s destruction. He was Loki’s son, Thor’s brother, who despised Thor for reasons I won’t get into now, but it was deep-seated enough that he taught Jӧrmungandr to hate him as well. And since Thor loved Midgard and humans like us dearly, the serpent’s target was always us .”  

“So what happened?” Rose asked. 

“Ragnarok,” Sigurd hummed, swallowing the rest of his drink. “The End of Time, many call it…Most of our Gods died that day, including Odin and his wife, Freya… The Nine Realms were suffering, with Loki at the forefront, and Thor did what he had to do.” 

“Which was?” 

“Killed Jӧrmungandr, and sacrificed himself in the process to save mankind,” he sighed, and it was then that they all realized everyone in the room was listening to the story. Sigurd smiled. “But that was centuries ago, and from the ashes we were reborn! The Gods that remained watch over us, and to this day all Nine Realms are thriving. To Thor!” 

“To THOR!” everyone shouted, raising their glasses in solidarity, and the Doctor cleared his throat as Rose looked back at him. He sniffed, thinking. 

“So, um…what are the Nine Realms?” she asked, not sure what to say, really, and much to everyone’s surprise, Ingrid started to speak, reciting the names as if she was practicing for a test with a flash card. 

“There’s Alfheim, Asgard, Helheim, Jotunheim, Midgard, Muspelheim, Niflheim, Svartalfheim, and Valhalla.” 

“Very good, little one!” Sigurd boasted, and for the first time all night looked over at Gorm. “Your father has taught you well.” 

Ingrid smiled widely, then ran over to her parents, who had locked eyes with the Doctor the moment she mentioned “Jotunheim.” 

“The Realms are closed off to one another,” the Doctor mused. “Isn’t that right? As part of the agreement when the war was over?” 

“Yes,” Sigurd said. The Doctor narrowed his eyes, and Gorm stiffened, already suspecting what he was about to say. 

“Then how was it that -” 

“JARL! SIGURD!” someone shouted, and everyone turned toward the door, where a tattooed man who had been throwing axes outside was now holding a limp body rotting in seaweed. He smelled of sea salt and death, and Sigurd ran to him, the joyful attitude he’d been inhibiting gone. 

“Take him to my room.” 

The man stammered as he did what he was told, and every eye in the hall watched in horror. Sigurd and Gorm nodded at one another, and Gorm rang the bell, signaling the end of the feast. 

“Everyone go home,” he instructed, and without question bodies began to file out of the room and back into the village. The Doctor stood, holding Rose’s hand, but he didn’t make any motion toward the door. Instead he stared at Sigurd who was frantically muttering under his breath to Gorm as they began to walk past the fireplace and toward the closed doors at the back of the hall. 

“Need a doctor?” he asked, and Sigurd stopped in his tracks. 

“No,” he said. “Revna!” 

A woman appeared from the room to his left. She had an apron on, and was rather petite and thin, with ginger hair that matched Sigurd’s tied up in several small braids atop her head. The tips of her fingers were tattooed blue, and the Doctor and Rose watched as he whispered something in her ear before she turned to look at them. 

“Our guests! Yes, of course, please, come. There is a house I can take you to,” she said, leading them toward the door, but the Doctor pushed past her. 

“Sigurd, I can help - “  

“I said leave us,” the Jarl ordered, his voice stern and genuinely terrifying for the first time, though it didn’t startle the Doctor at all, who opened his mouth to protest when Gorm suddenly came in between them, his hand on his ax. 

“Don’t make me pull it out again, Doctor. I don’t think he’ll stop me this time,” he warned, and Rose grabbed his arm, pulling him back. 

“Come on. Let’s go -” 

“Rose -” 

“He’s already dead,” she whispered, her eyes telling him all that she wasn’t saying - that something about this place didn’t feel right, and right now they needed to listen to Sigurd if they were going to have a chance at figuring out what it was. “Let’s let them work, yeah?” 

“The house is this way,” Revna said, and without a word, they left.

Chapter Text

As their feet shuffled through the snow, Rose began to shiver. Her light jacket was no match for the biting Norwegian air, and every breath she took felt like there were daggers digging into her lungs. The more rigid her muscles became, the worse her body started to ache from jumping off that stupid horse, and all she wanted was to get inside as quickly as possible. 

The view was picturesque, at least. 

How utterly absurd, to be appreciating the smell of the sea for once. Every step she took reminded her this wasn’t the Norway she’d known, even if a piece of her was still unable to let go of the image of the Doctor fading away or the final smile her mother gave her before the TARDIS' door closed. Even though the ocean had been a dreaded sight over the years, something about this place felt whole. It wasn’t just the fact that it was her prime universe, it was something rooted in the feeling she got when she stepped off the ship and straight into a round of ax wielding/running for her life/ being thrown on a horse while the Doctor swashbuckled... 

She was home.

Of course, just because she was trying to let go of the past and embrace the present didn’t mean she expected to find this place beautiful, yet she did. The Northern Lights were creating an array of vibrant colors above her. The snow-capped mountains felt surreal against the lanterns that illuminated the houses below. The trees were tall. The ocean, calm. 

It was a complete fairytale, one primed for a story. 

The polar opposite of that horrid beach. 

(Quite right, too.) 

Her eyes fell on Revna, who was walking ahead of them. So far she’d been nothing but silent, though occasionally she’d look back and ensure they were following her, and there was something about her that was confusing; a look in her eye Rose couldn’t quite place, but she always offered her a reassuring smile, trying to earn her trust. 

The Doctor did not.

His face was unreadable. 

Deducting. 

“It’s just up here,” Revna suddenly said after several minutes, her voice almost startling. Her tattooed fingers were playing with her apron, but she carried on steadily until they reached a small, unassuming house, and for a few moments they stood there while she pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked the door. “Here you are.” 

She held the key out to the Doctor, who didn’t bother looking at it. Instead, he clenched his jaw, his eyes serious as he planted his feet and waited for her to say something.

She didn’t. 

A wolf howled in the distance. 

“I’ll bid you goodnight, then,” Revna said kindly, bowing her head. 

“Has that happened before?” the Doctor asked before she’d had a chance to move. She frowned.  

“The feast happens once a week -” 

“No, don’t do that,” he groaned. “There was a protocol in place. Everyone knew what to do and didn’t argue. No one even batted an eye. No one seemed surprised. How many more dead bodies have washed up on the shore?” 

“You need not fret, Doctor,” Revna whispered, offering a weak smile. “Nothing will happen to either of you, I can promise you that.” 

“It’s not us I’m worried about,” he said plainly. “How many?” 

Their eyes locked, and even though Rose was fairly certain she couldn’t feel her toes amidst the slush she was currently sinking into, she was no longer remotely interested in the warm bed that awaited her as Revna stammered to reply, only to turn back toward the house and push the door open. 

“I put some clothing out for both of you, in case you catch a chill. There is wood, if you wish to start a fire. There’s a pot under the bed in case you -” 

“Revna, look at me,” the Doctor pleaded, and Rose bit her lip when she saw her composure break, just a little. “Traveling comes with its perks. We’ve both seen things, things you wouldn’t imagine. We can help. I just need to know what’s going on.”

She gave them both a cautious look. 

“There’s nothing to tell,” she admitted slowly. “Sadly, some of our best warriors are lost at sea. It is rare, but it happens. That man was part of a raiding party we sent east to look for supplies for the coming winter months. It’s even more rare that those we lose return to us, but if they do then we work quickly to preserve their bodies for proper burial. To clean them off before their families say goodbye…And yes, when and if it happens, we all know what to do, and we move out of the way and give the Jarl his space. That was what you saw tonight. It was respect and honor. For those who fall.” 

“I don’t believe that,” the Doctor pressed, and a shadow crossed Revna’s face. 

“No. Of course you don’t,” she snapped. “Your folk always think your way of thinking is superior to ours. Ever since our homelands have intertwined, you English have tried to coerce us with your God and your book and your -” 

“Oh, well, it's a good thing I’m not English,” the Doctor said with a wide grin. Rose smirked, the chattering of her teeth like a tambourine in her ears. “And I don’t believe in God.” 

“We did meet a devil once,” Rose hummed, her voice surprisingly steady despite how numb she was feeling, and the Doctor’s attention snapped to her at last. “He was this massive, angry, ugly beast thing with these horns on his head that could put every one of those helmets I saw today to shame. Said I was gonna die in battle. I didn’t.” 

Revna seemed to stand up straighter at that, and the Doctor gave Rose a small smile, then looked back toward the house. 

“Like I said, we’ve seen a lot of things. Fake gods, bad Gods, demi-Gods, would-be Gods... I’m not questioning that. I am questioning how many other people have died. And why Ingrid gave us a fish. And why your brother -” 

“Stop,” Revna ordered, and he did. There was a fire in her eyes when she spoke next. “How dare you mock us when we have been nothing but welcoming? You will leave when the sun rises. I will inform Jarl Sigurd of it. Goodnight.” 

“Revna, I’m not! Honestly, I’m not, I’m -” 

She pushed past them angrily, and the Doctor let out a long sigh, his breath visible the moment it hit the cold air. Several moments passed while he ran a hand over his jaw, debating on whether or not to follow her, and when he realized she wasn’t going to change her mind and come back he took Rose’s hand. 

It was like ice.

 “You’re cold?” he asked, alarmed when he saw how hard she was shaking, and he forgot about Revna completely. He simply reacted, getting her inside and brushing snow off of her clothing hurriedly. She shivered against his touch, not surprised to hear the familiar buzz of the sonic screwdriver checking her vitals, and also not surprised to hear him sigh heavily. “Take off your shoes. Socks, too. You should change and get in bed. Under the blanket.” 

He aimed his sonic at the fireplace, and in a matter of seconds began to warm the room with modest flames. He spotted the fresh clothing Revna left under the window and grabbed the outfit on top - a thick, granite-colored wool dress that was double lined with sheepskin and passed it to her, then reached her hand. 

It still felt like ice. 

“Rose. Get out of those clothes.”

“Will you s-stay?” she whispered, her teeth still chattering rather uncontrollably as she clutched the garment close to her chest, still not certain what his plan was “P-p-please? She’s t-t-oo upset t-t-o listen. They a-all are. We’ll t-t-try again t-t-omorrow.”

“Oh, just come here ,” he told her, wrapping his arms around body, and she let out an audible whimper the moment she felt him start to try and raise his temperature for her. Slowly, his hands began to rub her upper back, trying not to be angry at both of them by how wet her hair had become. “You should have told me you were this cold.” 

“I’m f-fine.” 

“Shhh…” 

“R-r-really, I’m fine.” 

“Stop talking. Breathe.” 

She closed her eyes, trying to inhale deeply, but her lungs still felt like they were being ripped apart, and the warmer she started to feel the more uncomfortable it was. She whimpered again, this time from pain, and he immediately let her go and began to unzip her jacket, letting it fall to the ground without a second thought. Her nipples were hard beneath her camisole, and she almost screamed when the cool air touched her bare skin, but he immediately had his arms around her again, still regulating his temperature as his lips found the spot where her neck and collarbone met. His hand drifted from her back to her hip, tracing lazy circles over her jeans. 

Her entire body began to flush.

“How’s that?” 

All she could muster was a shaky breath as her arousal ignited and her cheeks began to redden, which elicited a small smile from him. 

“More?” he asked softly, his voice tender and low, and she nodded as he took the dress away from her and placed it on a table near the door, then snuck his burning hands below the camisole and onto her stomach, slowly peeling the cold fabric away. His breath hitched in his throat when he saw her bare-chested before him, her breasts pale and round and covered in goosebumps, and her eyes fluttered shut, already anticipating the feel of his fingers.

To her surprise, he didn’t caress her. Instead, he brought his lips to her temple, peppering small kisses along her hairline as he unzipped her jeans, and she began to run her tongue along her lips in the way he loved as he helped her out of them one foot at a time. The denim was stiff, practically frozen - a fact that made him frown deeply - and he threw them near the fire to dry with the rest of her clothes, then took her naked body back into his arms. 

He dug his nails into her back, his lips on her shoulder. 

“Do you know how angry I would be if I lost you again to bloody hypothermia?” he whispered, completely serious, and she bit her lip. “You tell me if you’re cold.” 

“Shut up, it’s not that bad,” she moaned, her hips rocking against his body as he tucked her hair between his fingers and licked her neck, checking her metabolic rate, but still sending a surge of heat through her. (He noticed, and he did it again. For science.) “I.. aaahh… Remind me to tell you about the time the dimension cannon took me to the Ice Age…” 

He stopped. 

  “...it did what?” 

Her tongue fell to her teeth as she smiled brightly, and he smirked when she poked his chest. “Blimey, you aliens are gullible.” 

He shook his head as their eyes met, relieved to hear that her teeth were no longer chattering and that she was able to make lame jokes, and his hand cupped her cheek. She was still colder than he would like, but she was on the mend, and slowly he leaned down to kiss her. “Your blood wasn’t circulating properly. Five, ten more minutes and you could have lost your perfect little pinkie toe. I love your perfect little pinkie toe. Quite fond of it, in fact. You should be, too.” 

“Mmm…right, ‘course…how else would I get to the market?” 

“I’m serious.” 

“I know,” she whispered, running her hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’ll always tell you if I’m cold. Pinkie-toe promise.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Git.” 

He chuckled, pulling her into a long hug, not quite in control of the sigh that escaped his lips when she wrapped her arms around his waist in return. They stayed there for several moments, and he began to run his fingers along her spine, still very aware of how naked she was. “You know, speaking of blood circulating…”

She gasped when she felt him rub against her, his own arousal evident. 

He was kissing her neck again, his nails leaving their mark as he dug them into her skin, and she let out a small cry of surprise when he suddenly threw her onto the bed, yanking his jacket and shirt off before he threw them by the fire. 

He was hovering over her instantly, a new kind of hunger in his eyes as he kissed her clavicle, rolling his tongue in the indentation between the bones. His hands were at her sides, but his thumbs were rubbing against her hips, sending her into a frenzy she couldn’t quite understand, with sounds she couldn’t control as he moved his mouth to her lips and snogged her. Languid, slow, wet. A low groan rumbled in his chest when she reached for his bum and tried to undo his trousers, but with a wicked grin he began to knead at her breasts with one hand and focused his other between her legs, satisfied to find she wasn’t the least bit cold anymore. 

She was, however, still rather wet. 

His fingers slipped inside of her, and with his mouth agape, he watched her head roll back in pleasure, gripping the pillow she was resting on tightly. Her chest heaved, her face mirroring all that she was feeling in a way that filled him with pride, and he began to work a little faster, with more pressure, adding his thumb to his ministrations. 

“I wanted to do this earlier,” he admitted, and she smiled weakly. “Did you know that?” 

She moaned, the tension coiling inside of her deliciously tight, and his eyes were drawn to her tongue. 

“All night… wanted to touch you…To hear you. Watch you.” 

“Oh, God… ” she whimpered, her hips jutting to match the pace he was setting, and he smiled. Slowly, he leaned down and kissed her, catching the next few sounds she made with his tongue, until he felt her start to teeter on the edge of bliss, and he immediately withdrew his fingers. 

She let out a frustrated sound, and he winked, sucking them clean before he slowly took his belt off.  

“Three times in one day, Rose Tyler. You sure?”

“If you think you can keep up,” she warned haughtily, and he flashed her a wicked smile. He slithered out of his trousers, kicking his shoes off in the process, then moved to lay down beside her. A sturdy arm fell around her waist, tugging her towards him, but just as he began to lift her leg so it rested on his hip, she winced. “Ow. Sorry…” 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just fell off a horse,” she mumbled. “I’m fine.” 

“No, wait, come here -”

He tried to take a look at her bruise, but something seemed to come over her, and she swatted his hand away and pushed him onto his back, earning a signature eye-brow raise. With her tongue pressed to the tips of her teeth, she began to stroke him with her hand, basking in the hissing sound he immediately let out the moment he felt how warm she’d become. She straddled his hips and slowly - oh, so, so slowly - lowered herself onto him, gasping as he filled her. He, in turn, cursed, his hands immediately flying to her hips. 

“You asked me which was more fun,” she panted and she began to move. “To ride. You or the horse.” 

“I remember,” he groaned. He began stroking her thighs, and she could tell he was successfully turning to putty beneath her when she rolled her hips and his next words were a jumbled mess of syllables she didn’t understand. His eyes were pleading with her, and she bit her lips, taking the reins completely as she swayed. “Bloody fucking hell.” 

“I think I know my answer,” she teased, and they both smiled seductively.

Three words danced on the tip of his tongue.

"Rose....Rose, I..." 

They fell away, like they always did, despite how desperate they were to be set free. If he allowed himself to think about it, his hearts ached to tell her, and when she had been gone he'd imagined all the ways he could make up for not being able to finish that sentence all those years ago. He'd sought to try and find a way to write it in the stars - forever cementing it to the universe just in case she ever got to see it, but now that she was here, flesh and bone and pink and yellow and alive in his arms each and every day, he was consistently frustrated to find he still didn’t know how to say it. Still didn't know if he should. 

She knew. Of course she knew, and he knew what was stopping him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to say them. He did. It was simply that the anticipation had been building for years, and those words, small as they were, held such weight now; such gravity; such meaning; that it never felt like he could get the timing right. The irony of that concept wasn’t lost on him, but it had to be special. He needed it to be special and done in a way that encapsulated how remarkable he found it that she defied the impossible and came back. More often that not 'love' didn't feel strong enough to hold the weight of all that he felt towards her, because it was more than that. It was intrinsic, seared into the very flesh this body was born with, that his two hearts beat in tandem with hers. He'd died for her only to live for her. She'd done everything from stopping his first kill since the Time War to absorbing the Time Vortex to quite literally breaking down the walls of the universe to hold his hand, and as he tasted her, as he felt the way she felt about him radiate through her pulse and sighs, he couldn't help but wonder if three words were even enough. 

So instead, he looped his arm around her waist and flipped her over, making her giggle as he began to kiss her jaw. He thrusted into her, smiling when her laughter became more of a broken cry, and he did it again, burying all he had in her, every unspoken syllable that radiated across the galaxies. He was panting now, letting out soft sounds of appreciation that made her start to tremble, and he began to pound into her, fast and desperate. 

"I've got you..." he rasped. "Come on."  

“Doctor, ah, ah... God- please..." she moaned in a way that sent his soul on fire, and they locked eyes as he writhed over her, inching her closer. He attention on her was rapt, murmuring words of encouragement, trying to listen to the northern voice in his head that was telling him to get over himself and just bloody say it as the Northern Lights illuminated her body with a soft glow that reminded him of a thousand different nebulas, but the words never came. 

She did, however. With a cry of his name.

And his undoing wasn’t the sounds she made or the feeling of her muscles swelling around him, nor was it the ripple of her body as her hips undulated in pleasure. It was the look in her eye when she reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers. A look of pride. Of lust. Of gratitude. 

Of… well… 

“Rose, Rose, fuck, Rose!” 

He spilled into her without warning, muffling his grunts into her shoulder. Their movements slowed, her body glistening with a light layer of sweat before he growled and pulled her into a proper kiss, and they both sighed into it, collapsing into a messy ball of limbs.  

(Honestly, does it really need saying?)

"Well, that was..." 

“Warm enough?” he whispered with a twinkle in his eye, and she burst out laughing, hitting his chest. He chuckled and grabbed the blanket, throwing it over their legs as he snuggled against her, three hearts still racing when her head fell on his chest. 

For a few minutes, both basked in the afterglow, eyes closed. 

“What are the Jötnar?” Rose eventually whispered. He stirred, surprised to find he’d just about fallen asleep. 

“Mmm…A myth,” he said groggily. “They’re supposedly a race of giants who guard Jotunheim. They don’t exist, Rose.” 

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s religion,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “It’s all theoretical. Myth. It’s brilliant, of course, the way humans try to make sense of the world through interpretation, but at the end of the day every belief system is a story passed down through generations; never rooted in fact ; it’s simply a cultures’ way of explaining the unexplainable. The Jötnar are no exception.” 

“The Beast was real.” 

He looked at her with a furrowed brow. 

“Rose…” 

“What? He was. I’m just saying, Sigurd seems to think he saw one.” 

“Or has he just convinced himself he has?” he murmured, rubbing her arm. “You know just as well as I that Earth has parallel universes. Sometimes the occasional alternate dimension -” 

“So?” 

“So, what was the common thread between them?” he asked. “Every single universe you visited. What was the same?”

Her brow came together in thought, and she shook her head, shrugging. “Donna was there?” 

He couldn’t help but smile. 

“They looked like this world, didn’t they? Apart from the zeppelins?” he asked. She nodded. “Right. Every single one will always resemble this universe because every single one is spawned from this universe. But the Nine Realms are… not. They’re fantastical. Folklore. Plain and simple. They can’t exist. Not on Earth.” 

“Why?”

“Because that’s not how time works. Every decision made on Earth creates a parallel timeline, but they don’t create new worlds. And even if these realms did exist, which they don’t, but if they did, they certainly couldn’t be accessed through gates. That’s an old kind of science. Ancient. Much older than Earth. It’s impossible.” 

“So?”

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. 

“So, what I’m saying is -”  

“You seemed to believe in the realms at dinner,” she mused, stopping him before he rambled. “You said they were closed off after the war.” 

“Well, that’s just part of the belief,” he said. She rolled her eyes. “Their mythology is important to them, Rose. I’m not going to deny them that, but it’s why I need to look at that body. I can find reason where they can’t.” 

She looked up at him thoughtfully before her fingers slipped into his hair, then kissed his jaw. There was nothing sexy about it; it was rather sweet, the kind of kiss that curled his toes and made it impossible not to smile, and just as he opened his mouth to ask her what brought it on she sat up, and gave him a look he knew well. 

He sighed. 

“What am I missing?” 

“Nothing, you’re probably right…” she said, playing with her hair the way she did when she was nineteen, but when she looked at him, the wisdom that radiated from her eyes was that of a woman much older. One who could keep up with his thoughts and antics and had opinions of her own she was going to share whether he asked or not, one who understood the vastness of the universe, and he felt his stomach flutter. “I just kinda like when things are impossible.” 

Something tender fell between them, landing right between his hearts, and he inhaled slowly, touching her cheeks, but before he could say a word she looked out at the ocean. 

“Stranger things have happened, Doctor,” she murmured. 

“True,” he sighed, sitting up behind her and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I s’pose -” 

He stopped. 

He stiffened. 

“Get dressed.” 

“What?”

“Now. Put those clothes on.” 

“Doctor, what -” 

But she saw it, too. In the distance, out on the ocean, was a ship. One with a tall mast and sails blowing in the wind that didn’t match the ones she’d seen on the longships earlier. She turned to ask him what was going on, but he was throwing on the outfit Revna had left for him - reddish-brown trousers also lined with sheepskin and a matching tunic that was meant to go underneath a fox-skin cloak, and she didn’t even have time to comment on it before he tossed her the dress. 

“Oi! What’s going on?” she asked, sliding it over her head. He was at her side a moment later, lacing her into it. “Doctor, talk to me.” 

“The village is about to be raided,” he muttered, his voice serious. “We have to go warn Sigurd.” 

“Raided?” she asked, alarmed, but he just nodded and handed her a leather belt Revna had left for her, as well as a fur neckpiece that rested on her shoulders. “Is that as bad as it sounds?”

“Probably,” he said, looking out the window to see how close the ship was. “I reckon we’ve got twenty minutes at most before they dock. Once they do they’ll just start attacking. They will kill and injure whatever they can to get their hands on supplies, food, gear -” 

“Who are they?” 

“I’ve no idea. I’ve been here as long as you,” he replied playfully, making sure his sonic was in his pocket, and he took her hand as they headed toward the door. He was just about to open it when he thought of another witty remark and turned to amuse her with it, but he stopped when he realized how nicely this new dress clung to her curves. His tongue clicked up to his top teeth, and he smiled adoringly at her. “I really like this.” 

His hand brushed across her stomach, which filled with butterflies. 

“Yeah?” she flirted, and he winked, nodding. “Well…You’re not so bad yourself.” 

“It’s a bit itchy,” he complained, scratching at his collar. It made her dizzy, how quickly he could go from seduction to classic Doctor, unaware of the mood of the room as he rambled. “The suit was a bit constricting when I was fighting Gorm, plus it’s still a bit damp, and I thought it could be fun. I just want to know who thought to make this cloak out of -” 

“Doctor.” 

He smiled, remembering they had a potentially life-threatening problem at hand. “Right. Allons-y.” 

They ran back toward the hall, treading snow and keeping their eye on the ship. 

The wolf howled again.

Chapter Text

“SIGURD!” 

The urgency in the Doctor’s voice echoed through the hall as they burst through the door. The smell of mutton still lingered in the air, but the embers of the fire had dwindled down to nothing and every lantern had been blown out, leaving them in darkness. Rose couldn’t tell if it was the sex or the adrenaline or the dress, but she was the furthest thing from cold now, actually sweating slightly as he aimed his sonic screwdriver at the fireplace and turned everything back on. An odd feeling loomed over them knowing there was a dead body down the hall while tankards and games still lined the tables, and the Doctor sniffed as he carried on, shouting again.

“JARL!”  

He pushed one of the mystery doors open, discovering a miniature armory with twenty different types of weapons secured to a rack, then another, which appeared to be some sort of library. 

He slammed the doors shut. 

“SIGURD! ” 

The sound of footsteps thumping came from a few feet away, and they spun around just as Gorm stood near a window with a fire in his eye and an ax on his hip. The Doctor sighed. 

“We need to talk to him.” 

“What part of we do not need you here do you not seem to understand?” he spat, glowering, and Rose watched his fingers twitch next to this ax. “A man has died. You are getting in the way. Leave.” 

“Gorm, listen -”

“I’m giving you five seconds to turn around and go back to that ‘ship’ of yours, Doctor, ” he warned. “We do not need your help. We do not want it. Our clan has looked out for our own for decades. Go home.” 

The Doctor opened his mouth, about to say something Rose would probably tell him was rude later, but the door next to Gorm opened, and he rolled his eyes impatiently when Revna was suddenly there. 

Her apron was covered in blood.

“Okay, before you start,” he said, pointing at her. “Don’t. I need you both to listen to me. There is a ship coming and -” 

“Five -” 

“Gorm, listen -” 

“Four -” 

“I told the Jarl what you said back at the house. How you insulted the Gods,” Revna said coldly. Rose pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, the hubris flying between the Norse giving her a headache. “He was quite upset to hear it. Save yourself the trouble of his wrath and go . Now.” 

“Three -” 

“Can’t do that, I’m afraid,” the Doctor countered stoically. “There is a ship, and it is approaching the village, and you need to -” 

“ONE!” Gorm shouted, not listening as he stalked toward them with his ax raised, but Revna seemed to understand, and she disappeared back into the room she’d just come out of. The Doctor jumped as Gorm swung his ax, knocking it into the wall. 

“D’you ever take hot baths?” the Doctor quipped, his voice curious as he ran to the other end of the room. “Could reaaaaally relieve some of your stress. It’s not good for your heart, stress; especially given how much meat and ale is in your diet. Just, well… Doctor’s opinion.” 

Gorm yelled angrily, triggered apparently, but Rose jumped in front of him with an expression that mirrored one often seen on her mother, and he froze for a moment, not quite sure what to make of it. 

"Move, sӕta,” he panted.  

“The more you pull out that ax the more I think you might be compensating for something,” she said. The Doctor smirked. “If you want to prove how tough and scary you are, get your arse outside and gather all the Vikings. You’ve got company.” 

The door opened again. 

“What is it NOW?!” Sigurd demanded angrily with Revna on his heels. “This is not the time -” 

“Oh my God, will one of you just LISTEN?!” Rose screamed, gesturing back toward the front door. “You’re about to be raided -” she stopped, giving the Doctor a look to make sure she was saying it right, and he winked. “You have to go. Now. ” 

“She’s right,” the Doctor said, slipping his hand into hers. “We saw the ship approaching. I estimated you had about twenty minutes before they arrived. It’s been fifteen. We came to warn you. You might be able to talk them down.” 

Gorm immediately started to yell again, still insisting they leave, but Sigurd locked eyes with the Doctor, who nodded once, trying to convince him to trust them. A moment passed, and with a heavy sigh Sigurd snapped at Gorm to shut up and ran to look at the shore, where sure enough there was a group of men and women in heavy armor jumping from a longship onto the dock, determined. He frowned. 

“Well, you speak the truth,” he began, glancing at the Doctor. “They are from a neighboring clan, I recognize the sails. Gorm, gather the others. We must protect Asgardstrand at all costs. SKÅL!” 

Immediately, he pulled a horn out from his belt and blew into it. An alarm, the Doctor knew, one that signified to everyone in the village that a fight was coming, even the enemy. The sound it carried reverberated through the trees and sent a flock of birds flying into the sky, and Gorm’s face reddened as he stormed off toward the Jomsvikings quarters where the rest of the crew slept. 

(Sulking, a little, perhaps.)  

Revna followed him, strapping a bow to her back and slinging arrows over her shoulder. She nodded at Sigurd, then glanced at the Doctor and Rose, something about her expression softer than before. Rose wondered if she might say something for a second, but instead she ran away. 

Sigurd’s presence was once again commanding as he marched back to the armory the Doctor had discovered and grabbed a large weapon with heavy spikes on the end to accompany his ax, then slammed the door shut.  

“You two stay here.” 

“Oh, please,” the Doctor said instantly, and Sigurd watched in confusion as he re-opened the door and grabbed a fairly average ax, spinning it around in his hand for show.

“You want to fight?” he asked. The Doctor shook his head. 

“I want to help.”

Sigurd stared at him, but the sound of the opposing clan’s horn pierced their ears, officially starting the raid, and when it was followed by battle cries from at least a hundred bodies, he no longer had time to argue.

“Grab a shield. You will need it,” he instructed as he ran, disappearing outside. The Doctor clenched his jaw and did just that, strapping it into place over his left arm. 

He looked at Rose. 

“You should go make sure those that aren’t fighting are somewhere safe,” he instructed. She gave him an incredulous look. 

“I’m not leaving you.” 

“And I’m not going to be able to focus if I know you are on that battlefield with an ax and no protection,” he said hotly. “It’s not up for discussion.”

“Okay, this thing you keep doing where you tell me to go, it’s never ever worked,” she said. He opened his mouth to protest, but she carried on. “Doctor, I don’t need a lecture! You’re just gonna have to find a way to focus. I’m coming.” 

She moved toward the weapons, and he stopped her. 

“No, you’re not.” 

“The first time I met you I saved your life with an ax!” she retorted, and his jaw slacked at that realization. “And back then all I had was the Jericho Street Junior School’s under 7 gymnastics team to go on. Now, I have that, plus two years stopping trouble with you before I became one of Torchwood’s lead field agents for three more. I have fought on plenty of battlefields, with and without you, Doctor, and I can guarantee a group of screaming Vikings have nothing on a fleet of Daleks. So shut up and give me your damn ax.” 

His chest began to heave, his eyes dark and brooding with the winds of a storm, but instead of yelling at her, he dropped his weapon. 

“Doct-” 

His mouth was on hers so quickly it made her head spin. 

He pressed her against the wall, burying his fingers in her hair as he claimed her kiss, savoring her taste. Possession washed over him, the kind that felt primal and animalistic and far too human to have any sort of logic behind it, and he moaned gruffly when she returned the kiss in an equally stubborn way. It made him smile against her lips, and he knew how inappropriate it was to take time for a snog when people needed them, but he didn’t care. He also didn’t doubt her, not all all, not even for a second, because what she said was absolutely correct, but he needed her safe and he needed her to feel it. 

He always had. It was like a fire in his chest that erupted when the cloister bell in his mind began to ring, and it ached as he clung to her, trying to make her understand the desperation behind this kiss. One hand skirted along her upper thigh, and she rolled against him, creating the sort of embrace that would get them arrested on at least seventy-four different planets, he thought, and with a slightly guttural sound, he dipped his tongue into her mouth. 

The impassioned smack of their lips drowned out the clinking metal they could hear outside. 

He was finding his way to focus, Rose realized, and something about that fact made her knees turn to jelly. Her hands twisted in his hair, trying to tell him she got the message she could practically hear in a crisp Northern voice: don’t wander off . It thrilled her in a way it probably shouldn’t, but there was suddenly this odd combination of nostalgia and arousal running through her that made her want to give him the air in her lungs and prove to him she wasn’t going anywhere. He must have felt it, because his grip around her waist tightened like he was making up for all the times he’d lost her before.

A loud sound knocked some sense back into them, and he pulled away with a wet ‘pop.’ 

He cleared his throat. 

“...You want a shield, too?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Eyes dancing with hers, he unbuckled his from his arm and handed it to her, then picked up his ax. She made use of both, making sure they were secure and ready as he turned around and grabbed a second set. 

As the battle raged, he took her hand. 

They ran, barely having enough time to register the onslaught of bodies fighting in the village’s epicenter when they were immediately greeted to the screams of someone who had just been injured. They looked to their left, still at the top of the stairs that led to the hall, where one of Sigurd’s men was collapsing to the ground, clutching a bleeding arm. The woman who had attacked him was part of the opposing clan, and when she raised her ax again the Doctor reacted quickly, blocking her strike with his shield and kicking her in the stomach with force. She landed with a thud at the bottom of the steps, groaning, and the Doctor helped the injured man up. 

“Are you alright?” 

“What are you doing?! Go, dregnr! FIGHT!” 

He did. 

Rose wasn’t far behind, and he called out for her, but they had to separate when she was forced to engage in combat of her own, dodging and blocking the throws of several different weapons. Her ax clinked in the air, though she wasn’t even sure what she was hitting. She just ran toward the stable until she felt the Doctor grab her and pull her toward him, away from the ruckus. 

“How long do these usually last?!” she asked, panting. 

“Until the horn sounds again,” the Doctor said, scanning the area. “We have to get to the ship. If we can stop them from stealing anything, then -”  

He was cut off when they saw a tall man with a long braid down his back charging at them. His face was covered in tattoos that matched the sail on the opposing clan’s longship, and they both raised their shields, blocking the strike of his weapon. Rose spun away from him, kicking out her leg until he tripped and fell with an angry grunt, and the Doctor gave her an impressed look. She shrugged, smiling, but the attacker quickly got up and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her away from him. 

Before the Doctor could react, however, she hit him with her elbow at just the right spot, knocking him out cold, and he fell to the ground, nose bleeding.

“...Where did you learn that?” the Doctor croaked, his voice several octaves higher than normal as he ran to her side. 

“I’ve only been back for two months, there’s a lot you gotta catch up on,” she flirted, her tongue suddenly driving him mad, and he just stared at her in shock as she ran forward, clinking the metal of her ax against new weapons. A wide smile spread across his face as he did the same, his hearts pounding in a different way, the energy that radiated off of him as they worked together making him feel almost high. They were laughing as they ran and jumped and clinked, and he was deceptively strong beneath his thin frame, stunning everyone who came in contact with him. 

When he slid between the legs of someone who was trying to attack Rose and broke their weapon over his knee, she smirked. 

"Showing me your moves, too?" she teased. 

"Hardly." 

Someone suddenly hit his back with the handle of an ax, and he was pushed to the ground, coughing. 

It was Gorm.

"What are you doing?!” he gasped. He tried to stand, but Gorm took a more classic approach and punched him in the face, knocking him back down with a groan. “Ohhhhh, now that's a hell of a right hook.” 

He tried to look at Rose, hoping she caught onto his reference, but somehow he’d lost her in the crowd, and his stomach flipped over. 

“You think you can impress your way into our clan?” Gorm scoffed, taking a step closer to him. “You show up here, nothing but charm and showmanship, exactly the kind of thing Sigurd can’t seem to resist. A traveler, who coerced my daughter into telling you things she doesn't understand, and for what ?” 

“Is that what this is about?” the Doctor asked as he stood, clicking his jaw from side to side to numb the sharp pain he felt. “Ingrid knocked on our door and just handed us a fish. You tell me what that’s about, mate ‘cos I find it just as weird as you.” 

“She is four years old .” 

“Exactly,” the Doctor sighed, but Gorm went to hit him again, and he ducked. “Look, much as I’d love to have this heart to heart, we’re all a bit busy, in case you haven’t noticed?”

As if on cue, he held up his shield, blocking a series of arrows that fell from the sky. His eyebrows shot up to the top of his head as he gave Gorm a look only the Doctor knew how to do, and Gorm sneered, but just as he went to strike him with an ax, someone from the opposing clan rammed into him, knocking him unconscious. She raised her ax, ready for the kill.  

“No, no, no, wait, don’t!” the Doctor immediately protested, catching her attention, and she looked up eagerly, smiling at him like he was her next meal. He wiggled his fingers. “Hello.” 

He swung his ax, fighting with her for a moment or two until she managed to knock him down to the ground beside Gorm, but before she could do any lasting damage an arrow sliced through her ribs, and he looked up in surprise to see Revna lowering her bow from a few feet away. 

“You -” 

“If you don’t move, you die. GO!” she ordered. He opened his mouth to say thank you, but she already had her back turned to him, and he ran off in search of Rose amidst the cacophony of noise that surrounded him. 

He found her a hundred meters away and nearly dropped his ax. 

“... What?” he murmured with his eyes wide, but all he could do for a moment was watch as she kept up with the four Vikings that surrounded her. She kicked one, forcing them to fall to the ground just as she blocked the attack of another with her shield, and when a third aimed their ax at her leg she twisted her body so they hit the person on the ground instead. Their cry resounded in the air, and when blood splattered and distracted them all she managed to pull herself away and run, spotting the Doctor almost immediately. 

“Where were you?!” she shouted. “Are you alright?” 

“Torchwood taught you all that ?” 

“No,” she panted, and before she could elaborate she took the lead and bolted to another part of the battlefield. 

For the first time since arriving, they were at the beach.  

Sigurd was down by the edge of the shore, fighting like a King should, trying to stop anyone who was coming back to the ship with some his clan's cargo. They were about to join him, but Rose noticed a woman with black hair sneaking around the side of the dock in the shadows, carrying a large chest, and she very quickly began to deduct. 

The woman handed the chest to someone else, who handed it off to a third person, who then slid it up to the dock and placed it on the ship. 

“Everyone he is fighting is just a distraction,” she realized, grabbing onto the Doctor's arm. “Look.” 

The Doctor followed his gaze to where she was pointing, watching the quiet and efficient assembly line of thieves no one else had noticed yet, and he squeezed her hand, flashing her a smile. 

“Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth.” 

(There was a time when that sentence made her sad. Today it made her blush.) 

“We have to stop them, right?” she asked. 

“Oh, yes,” he said. “This way. Come on.” 

With his finger pressed to his lips, he tried to sneak over to where the woman was, forming a plan in his head of how he might startle her into surrender, but Sigurd let out a harrowing cry, and they turned to him just as three Vikings stabbed his armor with the full force of their axes. 

“SIGURD!” Rose screamed, and the Doctor ran, immediately throwing one of the Vikings to the ground. Rose was close behind, whistling at one of the others to come and follow her, and the third ran away, looking for someone new to fight. 

Their axes clinked, and the Doctor managed to knock the Viking he was fighting over the head and return to Sigurd, who was gasping for air. 

“Stop moving,” he instructed, immediately scanning him with his sonic screwdriver. “Are you alright?” Sigurd nodded, and he didn’t ask what the Doctor was doing, but he did stare at him intently, watching in confusion as his freckled face went from concerned to delighted. “Did you make this?! The armor?” 

“Revna did,” Sigurd whispered hoarsely. “I’m alright, dregnr. They just took my breath for a moment.” 

“It's beautiful,” the Doctor said, looking up at Rose like a child at Christmas. “How did she figure out the ratio of iron-ore and tungsten?"

Sigurd gaped at him. 

"I...I don't know." 

"If she added some nickel it might help distribute the weight. She could put it here, around your shoulders, and  -" 

“DOCTOR!” Rose suddenly screamed, but adrenaline rushed through Sigurd, who managed to stop the new Viking who was there to attack them. A small triangle of axes emerged between the men, and Rose looked back toward the dock, where the woman with the black hair was now standing beside the ship. “This isn't me wandering off!” 

His ax was lifted above his head, but he locked eyes with her, and when he realized what she meant, he nodded. 

She ran. 

The sand felt soft beneath her feet, and a part of her was annoyed that she was thinking about that sort of thing right now, but it was impossible to ignore. It was like a springboard, bouncy and bright, so different from Dårlig Ulv Stranden it made her want to run and keep running, and it sent a thrill through her as she leapt up on the dock. 

“Stop!” 

The woman with black hair glanced up in surprise, and Rose stood right where she was, noticing the way her pale skin practically illuminated under the stars. She, too, had tattoos all over her body and based on the way she stood compared to the others was clearly the leader of this part of the raid. “Please. You have to stop.” 

They all began to laugh. 

“You try feeding your family when all the grain and cattle have died,” the woman replied. “Your clan is abundant. You have plenty to spare.” 

She pulled her ax out, and Rose’s brow came together thoughtfully, looking at the other raiders.  “You’re doing this for your children?”

“We’re doing this to survive,” she replied hotly. Rose looked back at the Doctor, who was still battling a few of the ‘distraction Vikings’ with Sigurd as the woman stepped closer to her, pressing the flat part of her blade on Rose’s cheek. She stiffened. “If you let us go, I won’t tarnish this pretty face.”

"What is your name?” Rose asked, unphased. The woman gave her a look of surprise. “I’m Rose. Rose Tyler.” 

“Helga,” she said, curious. “You don’t sound like a Dane, Rose Tyler.” 

“I’m from London,” Rose replied, and the woman tilted her head, revealing a row of tattoos that had been hidden along her neck. “If you need help so badly, Helga, you could just ask. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to hurt all these people. I can help you.”

“Oh, she’s a peevish one,” one of the others sneered. Helga smiled, revealing a row of rotting teeth. Rose sighed. 

“Not all of us can afford to solve problems over tea and crumpets, ergi ,” she spat, and something about the way she said that last word told Rose it must be some sort of insult. Suddenly, Helga lowered her ax quickly, cutting Rose’s face, but when she moved to hit her again Rose rolled out of the way (over her bruise, which she ignored) and then began to fight back, her feet light and agile on the dock. 

For a moment, all seemed to be going exactly as it should, with Helga and the rest of the Vikings inching closer and closer to falling into the icy water and giving Rose enough time to save the cargo and signal to Sigurd to blow his horn. If he did that, it would be over, and she smiled a little, only needing Helga to get just a little closer to the edge… 

She caught a glimpse of the trees that lined the opposite side of the beach, and she froze.  

A wolf stood in the sand. 

Some innate feeling washed over her she couldn’t explain, one that seemed to drown out all the noise and panic that surrounded her. It was warm and bubbly and stirred deep in her gut, and without realizing what she was doing, she lowered her ax. It was quite possibly the most gorgeous creature she’d ever seen, pure white, with eyes as blue as the ocean itself. Its tail wagged slightly, and it's thick, almost sparkly fur was blowing in the soft breeze.

It looked up at the sky and howled, the sound sending the hairs on the back of her neck straight up, and she wanted to run to it. Her breathing became shallow. Her heart pounded. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to see what the wolf was doing, but just when she took her first step, Helga knocked her back. 

An ax sliced her waist, and she doubled over in pain. 

Like a floodgate, her senses came back to her, though she could tell something was wrong. Everything felt heavy and hazy, and her ears were ringing when she saw Helga shout at the rest of her clan to finish loading the cargo. Her body wouldn’t do what she wanted it to; she couldn’t stand and stop her, couldn’t run, couldn’t yell to the Doctor to tell him what was going on before she saw Helga climb on board her ship and blow her horn. 

The sound it released was deeper than Sigurd’s and put a pressure on her head that made her scream, and she covered her ears, trying to block it out. Her heart thumped in her chest at a speed that was making her dizzy, and as the sound of footsteps scurried around her, all she could do was collapse onto the dock, and close her eyes.

Chapter Text

When the horn resounded in the air, he felt it. 

Pride. 

He was certain, as the shouting ceased and weapons fell to the ground, that Rose was behind it. Of course she was. She’d been surprising him all day, and while he wasn’t sure what her plan had been when she’d ran off (but not wandered off, she’d made a point to say), he could only assume it was drenched in cleverness as vast as the ocean he stood beside, and when the Viking he’d been fighting dropped his sword, all he could think about was how far they’d come. 

The Stuff of Legend. 

She’d always been brilliant, and reckless, and completely unwavering in her faith in him whether he deserved it or not, but what he’d witnessed in the past hour was an unwavering faith in herself - one that grabbed his hearts and wrapped them around her pink and yellow finger to a degree that would have had the old him running so fast she’d never have been able to catch up, but now, after everything, felt like a breath of fresh air. This older, wiser, more adept Rose Tyler was beyond anything he could have anticipated, which he supposed is exactly what he should have anticipated, and the image of her silhouette on that abandoned street, back lit by moonlight, washed through his mind…

Why don’t you ask her yourself? 

Like clockwork, with the same ferocity of the waves that once signified ‘goodbye’, the fact that they were together again struck him, and when the horn stopped its cry he threw his shield in the sand, ready to run and catch her in his arms. 

That was until he turned and saw Sigurd raise his ax , then blow his horn not in victory, but in surrender. 

“What are you doing?!” the Doctor demanded, but Sigurd ignored him, and the sound of excited footsteps began to pound the Earth. For a moment, all either of them could do was watch as the opposing clan raced toward their ship, cheering and celebrating. As Sigurd muttered to himself, the Doctor turned toward the docks, spotting the woman with the black hair Rose had tried to stop ushering everyone on board. 

His hearts began to race. 

“It was a valiant effort,” the Jarl muttered as he approached him. “I must apologize for my behavior earlier. Gorm and Revna both misjudged you, and it clouded my opinion. Please, come find me later, drengr. For now I must help tend to the wounded, but you have proven yourself most honorable, and there is something that you and Rose -” 

At the mention of her name, the Doctor’s stomach flipped, and his eyes scanned the beach, hoping that maybe she’d simply wandered off after all, only to settle on a mess of blonde hair that was sprawled out over the dock. 

Before Sigurd could finish his sentence, he was running. 

A ghastly anger erupted inside of him when he leapt onto the platform and saw the clan sailing away, smiling like nothing had happened. For a second, the desire he had to use his sonic screwdriver and break the ship’s mast, leaving them stranded in the water to ensure that the waves of the ocean were not the worst storm they would face if they had, in fact, hurt her, was like a riptide in his chest, but when he noticed the blood on Rose’s hands, all of his anger transitioned into a raw type of panic, and that took over everything else. 

He skidded to a stop, and collapsed beside her. 

“Rose?!”  

She groaned. 

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s me. I’ve got you,” he whispered as his eyes danced across her face, and his fingers brushed the spot that was bleeding on her cheek. “Rose, can you hear me? Can you tell me what happened?” 

He was trying to stay calm, very calm, but his composure slipped the moment she closed her eyes.  

“ROSE! No, no, no, no, don’t you dare. Don’t do that - ” 

She made a face, his voice too loud for her throbbing head, and he swallowed.

Hard. 

“Doctor…” 

“I’m here.”  

Sluggishly, her eyes began to open, squinting under the scrutiny of the emerging sunlight, and he let out a breath, tearing the fox-skin cloak off of his back and pressing it against the wound on her stomach as he scanned her. She whimpered in a way that briefly eased his aching hearts, because at least that meant she was able to feel it. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“S-stop…” she protested. 

“Nope. You’re bleeding, just stay still. Breathe.” 

"Doctor ,” she croaked. He cupped her cheek, frowning when she winced. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

He stared at her, unable to comprehend how she could have the wherewithal to ask about him when she was clearly blinded by pain, and also completely unable to answer answer her for a variety of reasons that started with ‘never ever’ and ended with those three words he was still finding so hard to say , and when she opened her mouth to continue talking, he pressed a finger to her lips.

“Don’t. I’m fine. I’m not going anywhere. Just stay awake.”  

“M-my head…”

She closed her eyes. 

His blood ran cold, those words the last thing he expected to hear, and they triggered something in him he couldn’t explain as he clamored to his knees, shouting her name. He began to scan her faster, relieved to determine she didn’t have a concussion but was suddenly worried the amount of blood she’d lost was making her dizzy, and he tried with everything he had not to let his mind wander. Not to conjure the image of her slipping from that lever. Not to remember watching her fade out of his life forever, or get angry for letting himself start to believe that her display of strength today meant she was impervious to injuries, or blame her for being careless and going it alone, for allowing them to be separated even for a the briefest of moments, and just as he felt himself slipping into a proper frenzy, she opened her eyes, grabbed his hand, and smiled. 

“Hello.” 

He stared at her, stunned. 

“Whatever you’re thinking… S-stop. I’m right here. I’m gonna be okay.” 

His jaw tightened so hard she was surprised he didn’t break, and he shook his head. “Lean against me.” 

She did. 

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest tenderly, still trying to stifle the emotions he had swimming through him. He needed the TARDIS, that much he knew, and the tip of his tongue danced against his teeth, threatening to release biting words about how she should have shouted for help; that was still human and she didn’t work for Torchwood anymore;  that the stained blood on her dress was why he didn’t want her to be a part of this outrageous fight in the first place, and he was so focused on trying to stay calm that he didn’t hear when Sigurd ran up behind them, panting. 

And when he spoke, his fury tipped. 

“Doctor! Revna sent me to - ” 

He stopped when he saw Rose, and his eyes widened. 

“What happened?!”

“I’m fine,” she whispered, trying to sit up in the Doctor’s arms, but he stopped her.  

“Lay down,” he practically ordered, then turned his attention to Sigurd, who was shocked when he saw the rage in his eyes.  “Where are the cliffs?! We need our ship!” 

“Why?”

“Tell me!”

“N-north,” Sigurd said, pointing, and the Doctor stood, still holding Rose, without another word. “Wait, please, you don’t have to leave. Revna is in the hall now. It’s much closer. She’ll have bandages and medicine you can use -” 

“No.” 

“Really, she can help. She’s already working with the others -” 

“Move.” 

“Doctor, please, I’m just -” 

“ GET OUT OF MY WAY! ” the Doctor sneered, his voice laced in a kind of warning that made Sigurd pause, and he stopped trying to offer solutions. But before the Doctor could take a step, Rose suddenly gasped, and his attention dropped to her. 

“Okay, Prospero, can you put me down?” she insisted, and he stared at her for a moment, startled by how alert she sounded. “Doctor, you’re squishing my ribs.” 

He nothing short of gaped at her. 

She gave him a slightly amused look, and when she tried to escape his grasp his brain caught up with what she’d said, and he set her down, afraid he would somehow cause her more pain. He refused to let her go completely, however, making sure to keep one hand on her abdomen and the other cradling the back of her head, but his eyes were searching hers, and his throat tightened when he recognized their warmth.

 She smiled again, this time brightly, and he very nearly lost his mind. 

“Rose.”

“Hello,” she replied, and he clenched his jaw. She looked at Sigurd. “Don’t worry ‘bout him. When he’s stressed he insults everyone. What does Revna need?”

The Doctor shook his head vehemently.

 “No. Nope. No. We’re going to the TARDIS.”

“But they need our help - ” 

“They have made it very clear they do not ,” he protested haughtily. “You could have been killed. We’re leaving.” 

“Oh, shut up, it not that bad -” 

“Rose,” Sigurd added, pulling her attention. “What ails you, drengr? Revna can take care of it, whatever it is. She is a skilled physician; learned everything she knows from our mother, who was the best. But she needs help today. This raid was particularly challenging, so perhaps while she cares for you, the Doctor and I could -”

“If you say one more word, Sigurd, I swear to all your damned Gods that I will - ” 

“Stop it,” Rose whispered, tugging on his sleeve and forcing him to look at her. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” 

“It could be worse,” she admitted sheepishly, and his face reddened in frustration. “It’s not a big deal. I was shaken up a bit, but the ax hit the belt, mostly. See? Look.”

He glanced down at her abdomen again, inhaling slowly, his brain able to rationalize the situation a little more clearly than before now that she was talking, and he realized that she was right. She still had a gash on her skin, but it wasn’t nearly as deep as he thought it was, and when his finger gingerly grazed the leather around her waist, feeling the point where the blade touched it,he realized it wasn’t just an accessory.

It was armor. 

He frowned. Deeply. 

“...Did you tell Revna to give this to her?” he whispered hoarsely.

“I beg your pardon?” 

“The belt,” he snapped, glaring at Sigurd. “It was part of the pile of clothing your sister gave us. Don't tell me that's a coincidence.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” 

“Oh please. You have been infatuated with her from the moment we arrived. Can’t say I blame you, been there myself more often than not, but then there’s also the bit with the Jötnar, and...well... it's not adding up. You claim you’ve seen them, despite the fact they are a myth. Ingrid thought my ship was the gate to Jötunheim and so far you are the only one who doesn’t seem alarmed by that - ”

“Doctor -” Sigurd tried to say, but he carried on. 

“- and Gorm doesn’t like you much, does he? Sure, he’s a pain in the arse in his own way, but at least I know where he stands. What he cares about. I can respect him, but I can’t get a read on you, Sigurd. The clans folk seem to love you, but all they really know is that you throw a great party, isn’t it? You need bananas, by the way, if you're going to throw a truly great bash, so I'm afraid I can't quite agree with them, especially after you spent the entire night parading around us with ale, trying to get us to talk, only to kick us out when that man turned up dead. Revna said your wrath was trouble, but let me assure you mine is far worse, especially if I find out you're planning something to do with Rose." 

Rose bit her lip, watching.

“Tell me I'm wrong."

"Doctor."

"Tell me I'm wrong, Sigurd. Because the way I see it, you were far too welcoming of us compared to everyone else. Then you get us a room that just happens to overlook the docks, which means we just happen to be the first ones to see the clan approach, and Rose just happens to have the perfect piece of armor to stop her abdominal aorta from being severed... It’s rather calculated, no?"

"That's not... No, Doctor..."

"Let me make myself clear. Whatever you think you need her for, think again. We’re done.”

Sigurd stared at him, at a loss for words.

The Doctor sniffed, looping Rose’s arm around his neck, keeping one hand on her wound to control the blood, and Sigurd didn’t try to stop them as he half carried her away from the dock and back toward the sand. She was feeling much better, he could tell, but he was still trying to be cautious, and his lips pressed into her hair as he helped her trudge through the sand until Sigurd’s voice began to ring in the air. She stopped. 

“Rose.” 

“Listen.” 

“The man who died,” Sigurd began, running to catch up with them. “His name was Arne. He was a member of our own raiding party. I don’t expect you to understand, I know it’s not how things are done where you are from, but clans fight. Raiding is a common practice, one we are always prepared for. Every article of clothing we own doubles as armor for that very reason, and that was why the belt Revna lended Rose protected her, but I can assure you it was not intentional.” 

“Fine,” the Doctor sighed, turning to walk away, but Rose stayed where she was. 

“Arne?” she asked. Sigurd nodded. 

“Rose, I want to go,” the Doctor muttered. 

“Just give him a minute.” 

“He was a good man,” Sigurd said, leaping at her invitation. “He loved to sing. A fortnight ago, I sent him and thirty of our best men east to look for supplies for the winter months that are to come, but they were all lost at sea.” 

“I’m sorry,” Rose whispered. Sigurd clenched his jaw. 

“Six bodies have washed up on shore since,” he continued. “Arne is the seventh. All from that same ship… All covered in seaweed… All dead…Something like that never happens….It’s caused quite an unsettling feeling amongst our clan. That’s why I planned the feast. I was trying to give us all a distraction. It’s also why I was afraid to let you get close to him. I fear the bodies are cursed….And you are just travelers...I didn’t want to concern you with our problems.” 

“Cursed?” Rose asked. 

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed, and Sigurd took a step closer to them, his expression softer than either of them had ever seen up until now. He swallowed. 

“I’ll let you take a look, if you would like. As far as the Jötnar and Jötunheim… I can explain, but it’s better to show you, I think. But first, please. I know you both have every right to get on your ship and sail away. You owe us nothing, I know that, but I am asking, as Jarl, several members of my clan are hurt and Revna can’t help them alone. She sent me to ask you if you could please come, and if you do, I will tell you anything you want to know about what is going on, and if afterwards you still choose to leave, then I won’t stop you.”  

Both Rose and the Doctor stared at him. 

“Every guest house in Asgardstrand overlooks the docks. It was not a ploy, putting you there, I promise. I am grateful you stayed, however. The damage we sustained could have been much worse without your warning,” he whispered. “Lastly, of course, if you still choose to leave now… I understand. It was a privilege to meet you either way.” 

Rose was nibbling on her lip when her eyes locked with the Doctor’s. His hand was still on her abdomen, but she was barely paying attention to it. A thousand questions swirled in her mind, and she could tell by the look on his face that all he wanted to do was scoop her up and run back to the TARDIS while he ran a million more tests and stitched her back up (possibly with a long lecture), but something was keeping her feet planted right where she was. She felt fine. Her head was perfectly clear, more so than it had been for months, in fact, and there was something about the conviction in Sigurd’s tone and the look in his eye that made her believe him without a hint of irony.

She ran her finger along the hem of the tunic the Doctor wore as she continued to lean against him, watching him, and she doubted he was focused on Sigurd at all. He was far too consumed with rage and guilt, she was certain, and she licked her lips, then squeezed his hand.

(The image of the white wolf flashed in her mind, but she didn’t say anything.) 

“They keep trying to split us up but they -” 

“Stop.” 

With a sigh, he grazed her temple with his index finger, and the feather-light feel of his touch made her shudder. He frowned, his jaw starting to tremble slightly, but her tongue-in-cheek smile greeted him and helped him control it. 

“Rose…” 

“It was just a headache. It’s better now,” she whispered. “I’ve had worse.” 

Despite himself, he smirked. 

“I still think you need a doctor.”  

The buzz of his screwdriver filled the air yet again as he checked every vital the tiny instrument had access to. Rose simply let him, content to play patient for a moment, but when she saw the look of concentration he wore her knees turned gelatinous, and when he stopped, she suddenly grabbed his lapel and pulled him into a rough kiss, smiling when he immediately responded with a huff and cupped her cheek. 

And as conflicted as he still felt, he supposed, before it really was his last chance to say it… 

“Rose,” he panted, pulling away to stare at her flushed face. “Rose Tyler, I -”

“SIGURD!!!” someone screamed, and he audibly groaned, pressing their foreheads together. A flutter erupted in her chest when he pulled back and gave her a look that told her all she needed to know, one that held the magnitude of the moment behind his eyes, and before she could control it a blush crept up on her cheeks. She winked. ”What are you doing?! I told you to run, find them, and then come right back!” 

“Rose is injured,” the Jarl explained, turning his attention away from the Doctor, who realized it was Revna. “Her abdomen was cut. She needs dressing and perhaps a bit of blood letting.” 

“Oh, like hell, ” the Doctor warned, and both Sigurd and Revna stared at him. “The only person touching her is me .”

(Rose’s blush deepened.) 

“Alright,” Sigurd said hesitantly. 

“Do what you must, of course,” Revna added with an urgent tone, noticing Rose for the first time. “Are you alright?”

“‘s just a nick,” she said with a small smile. The Doctor sighed.

“Good,” Revna breathed out, sounding genuinely relieved, and the Doctor barely looked at her when she took a step closer to him. “I have to get back, I need you to hurry. Are you able to stay?” 

“We…” the Doctor began, but Rose leaned her head on his shoulder and looked up at him with wide eyes, pleading with him, and the stubbornness he felt crumbled. “After I make sure Rose is alright.” 

“Oh, Gods, thank you!” Revna cried, and the Doctor clenched his jaw. "It's not usually like this..." 

“I said I'd take a look. We’ll meet you there,” he instructed, still more irritated than he meant to be, and Revna turned instantly with a nod, running back toward the village. Sigurd began to follow her, but then turned and gave them a careful look. 

“You must think I'm... I fear my father would have handled this better,” he admitted. “You never would have doubted him. Forgive me. We'll talk later.” 

The Doctor didn’t say anything, and Sigurd let out a long breath, then shook his head and continued on after his sister. Rose sighed. 

"He's scared." 

“He's something..." the Doctor murmured. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," she said, and he kissed her forehead. "I'll let you carry me if you don't get my arm up my back."

He smiled, chuckling slightly, and together, they made their way back to the TARDIS.

Chapter Text

As soon as he mended her cheek, she insisted on going back. 

He insisted on staying. 

Which meant for half an hour, they traded axes for a battle of stubbornness, starting to get on others’ nerves in a way that felt rather domestic as she laid on the bed in the infirmary, kicking her feet against the metal base beneath her. 

Thump. Thump. Thumpety-thump-thump. 

“Stop that,” he instructed, and she gave him a look he chose to ignore as he inspected her bare abdomen. 

(Her sheepskin dress was on the ground, for reasons far less enjoyable than she would like.)

“You’ve checked it like a dozen times,” she groaned. “We should go back.” 

He stayed quiet. Inspecting. 

She sighed.

“People could be dying, Doctor.” 

“Not on my watch,” he muttered with a frown, the words slipping out before he could stop them, and the rawness of his tone temporarily stopped her moving feet. His jaw was suddenly so clenched it looked painful, and she sat up to see his eyes, but he remained focused and unreadable.  

Thump. Thump. Thumpety-thump-thump. 

“Rose, stop it.”  

“Sigurd said you could look at Arne’s body,” she added, trying to make him look at her as she poked his knee with her toe. “If we left now, that big brain of yours might figure something out. I missed watching that. We could help.”  

They locked eyes, but when he didn’t move a muscle she felt her stubbornness falter, and she collapsed back onto the bed. Seemingly satisfied, he sniffed, and she gave him a curious look when he opened up a bottle with some sort of blue liquid in it. 

“Stay still,” he instructed, watching as her face scrunched in disapproval when the smell of antiseptic burned her lungs. Four cold drops began to seep into the gash on her skin, and at first she hissed, not expecting the tingling sensation that came with it, but it soon eased into something soothing and numbing, and when she let out a breath of relief, he finally blinked. “How’s that?”

“Good.”

“Good.”  

She bit her lip, expecting him to take off his gloves and begin his lecture about how much worse all of this could have been and how reckless she was and how they just got each other back and he wouldn’t allow this sort of behavior ever again or he was keeping her in the Vortex, but instead he kissed her. 

Rather…possessively.

It took her breath away, and she was grateful she was already laying down, shuddering when he tugged on her legs until they were flush with the edge of the bed and moistened her lips with his tongue. The kiss was vital, consuming, and she was just about to wrap her arms around him and pull him on top of her when he suddenly broke away with a furrowed brow. 

“Is that all you have to say?” she teased. He swallowed. 

“Are you sure you bruised yourself?” 

She stared at him, dazed. 

“From the horse?” he clarified. “You said it hurt before. In bed.”

“Oh… Yeah, I’m sure. Why?” she said, flashing him a saucy grin, wanting to repeat all the things they’d done in said bed, but the lines on his forehead deepened. “Doctor?”

“Nothing.” 

His eyes, however, told a different story, focused and narrow, studying the constellation of moles on her skin, trying to make sure not a star was unaligned. It was obscenely hot, if she dared say so herself, and she almost pushed the boundaries of what she thought were probably acceptable and told him she almost died (which she didn’t) and wished he’d do more than stare, but he was so focused that something stopped her. 

“Hey.”

“Hm?” 

“Everything alright?”

His eyes immediately softened, and he grinned. “Oh, yes,” he chirped, nodding. “Of course it is, sorry. It’s just…not there.” 

“What’s not?” 

“The bruise. I wanted to look at it, see if it needed anything before you got dressed, but it’s gone.”

“Really?”

“My own fault. I s’pose the effects are instantaneous if the wound isn’t too severe. It’s called the Oil of Serenity,” he explained, holding up the bottle of blue liquid and shaking it gently. “It’s derived from a special herb that speeds up the speed of growth for most cells. I got it from an apothecary ages ago. For reckless humans.”  

He gave her a knowing look. She gave him one back. 

“Oi, Pot? Meet Kettle,” she teased, and he smirked as he slipped his hand into hers, leaving the vial on the table. She rolled her eyes, and the corners of his mouth curled, finally able to breathe now that he’d confirmed she was absolutely alright. In a way that called truce to their battle of stubbornness, they laughed. 

“You gonna tell me where you learned to fight like that?” he asked. 

“A bit here and there,” she mused, running her hand across his arm. “Torchwood had standards, so I trained. But also… I…” 

“What?"

She sighed, then shrugged. 

“I was angry a lot. I missed you. Sometimes I didn’t know what to do with that, so… I dunno. Mum suggested I find an outlet. I liked the way training made me feel - the endorphins, the challenge, the running…” he smiled softly. “It kept me focused. I guess I got good? I took up Krav Maga and Taekowndo and fencing and all sorts of stuff. It helped.”

A long silence fell between them. Not uncomfortable, but heavy, and she cleared her throat, unsure what to say next. He was still completely unreadable, but eventually he nodded in disbelief. “And I thought I was impressive.”

Her smile lit up the room. 

“You are.” 

For some reason, suddenly, all she could think about was how many times she’d gotten hurt on her journey back to him. Mickey had been the one who had to pin her to a gurney while an unfamiliar, annoyingly bald doctor tended to her injuries. A man whose eyes were the wrong shade of brown, and there were times she’d felt so discouraged, it nearly killed her. Yet here she was - bandaged and bleeding on the TARDIS after a literal Viking showdown in Norway of all bloody places, and the right eyes were there, looking at her cautiously, most likely wondering where her thoughts had run off to. It was too much, far more than her weary mind was able to take in, and before she could allow herself to get anymore reflective, she whispered his name, ignoring his protests to be careful as she grabbed his tunic (because he was still wearing that, she was just realizing) and pulled him into a hard kiss. 

He didn’t resist. In fact, he seemed just as eager as her - already grabbing fistfuls of her bare breasts as she pulled him on top of her, the kiss growing open mouthed and heavy. 

“The last time I was in this room, I’d just gotten my face back.”

He stiffened, pausing. 

“I know.” 

I lost you…” 

"I know."

“I came back.” 

He closed his eyes, nodding. “I know.” 

“Is that all you’re going to say?” 

He didn’t answer, instead, he smiled wickedly as he began to trail a line of kisses from her lips to her chest, sucking on the flesh he’d just been kneading. She gasped his name, tangling her fingers in his hair as he continued to lap and flick her nipple with his tongue, pleasure undulating through every pore. He moaned between kisses and nips, sensing exactly what he was doing to her, and just as she started to whimper he returned to her lips, capturing them in a heated, yet slow, snog . 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispered, rocking against her naked body with his fully clothed one, and they locked eyes. His were wide and nervous, hers lustful and worried, and she bit her lip. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. He nodded, kissing her, sighing when soft sounds of pleasure escaped her throat and landed on his cheek. “I got distracted by a wolf.” 

His kiss stopped on her jaw. 

Slowly, he looked at her, and she pinched her nose with her fingers, wondering if she should have told him that. He stayed alarmingly quiet, waiting for her to continue. 

“I can’t explain it completely. What I felt. I just know there was a huge white wolf on the bay across from us and it was looking right at me. When it howled I… I’m sorry. I just got distracted.”

“A… wolf?”

“Yeah.” 

Something flickered in his eye, and they both clenched their jaws, because she already knew what he was thinking. A part of her was thinking it too…

But Bad Wolf was no more.  

The darkness was gone . 

“What did…” he cleared his throat. “Try to describe it. What you felt.” 

“I can’t…”

“Try, Rose.”

She sighed. “I guess…it was like it was calling to me? Like it wanted me to follow it?” 

He sniffed, then sat up and adjusted his tunic, hopping off the bed so he could hand her the dress she’d been wearing and began to help her put it back on. “It’s just a wolf.” 

(Somewhere, distantly in his mind, he felt like he’d heard those words before. In her voice, even, but he couldn’t remember where. )

“I know,” she said. “I’m just telling you what happened. I was doing pretty good, actually. I was winning. I really can handle myself - I was a lead field agent before I left. It was just really weird.” He looked at her. She sighed. “Point is you don’t have to worry about me. Okay?” 

“I always worry about you,” he admitted, helping her lace up the dress, and she held her breath. “But… fair enough. You were incredible, really.” 

“Sort of a strange coincidence, though,” she added. He gulped. 

(Because that’s what it had to be, right? A coincidence?) 

He didn’t reply. Instead he pulled on the lace one more time, tightening the dress, then let her go. “How’s that?”

“It’s fine,” she whispered. “Now can we go?” 

For a moment, he seemed frozen behind her, his breath hot on her neck, nose touching her hair, fingers brushing her waist, and she tried to turn around and look at him, to ask him if he was alright, but as quickly as it began it ended, and he stepped back, handing her freshly washed belt and fur neckpiece back to her. 

“If you’re ready.”

She nodded, and he took her hand, guiding her through the bloodstained snow back to the longhouse, where Revna was waiting. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

It was a scene from a horror film.

All the tables that had been covered in food the night before were now pushed to the side and used as beds. Hundreds of candles lit the room, making every cut and scrape and bashed-in face unmistakable as they walked around to see who needed the most help, but it was the screams of agony that lingered most. Broken bones and welts seemed to be all around them, and he could tell how overwhelmed everyone who was aiding the wounded was, especially Revna and Sigurd, and he realized almost instantly that Rose was right to make him stay. 

Of course she was. 

For several hours, the only words he said were about treatment options. Leeches wouldn’t do, neither would wooden splits, and he ran to the TARDIS a few times to gather things they needed - not caring so much if the technology was too advanced for the time or if anyone asked questions. He’d simply deny them, and it wasn’t up for debate. People were dying and he’d already said he wasn’t letting that happen on his watch. 

Rose helped as much as she could. Torchwood, she realized, had hardened her, as she barely flinched at most of the injuries she saw. The Doctor noticed too, and it made him frown, but he didn’t say anything. 

Despite their efforts, a few died. 

A few nearly did. 

But many survived .  

By the time they felt there at a place where they could take a break, the sun had come and gone. Their hands were stained, their bodies tired, and they hadn’t eaten, which they only remembered when Revna had a young girl fetch plates of meat and vegetables. 

Sigurd waited until they were done before he tapped the Doctor’s shoulder, his exhaustion prevalent. 

“If you would still like to examine the body…”

“Yes,” he said. “Now?”

“We’ll have to remove it soon. It’s rotting.”

The Doctor let out a long breath and looked at Rose, who was staring at a few of the injured bodies with a solemn expression. He wanted to tell her to go lie down, to rest , but he knew better than to try. Whatever problem they were about to walk into, she’d want to see it herself, and he reached over and gently touched her arm. 

“You ready?” he murmured. At first she looked confused, but she understood once she saw the way Sigurd was watching them, and she nodded. 

He led them away from everyone else, down the hall, to the room across from his. 

Arne’s rotting body, like pickled meat, was on a table with his chest open, blood everywhere.

Rose, as hard as she tried not to, gagged. 

“I am sorry, drengr,” Sigurd sighed. “If you wish to exclude yourself -”

"I’m fine,” she said, sharing a look with the Doctor, who already had his sonic screwdriver out and was scanning the body without asking. Sigurd didn’t seem to question why he was doing it at this point, nor did he ask what the device was. He simply waited to see what he might say. 

“He’s been dead for over a week,” he muttered. “Drowned, it would seem. There are salt crystals in his lungs.”

“Where are the other bodies?” Rose asked. 

“We burned them,” Sigurd explained. “We had to. They were deteriorating. There was nothing we could do.”

“But they looked something like this when they arrived?” the Doctor asked. Sigurd nodded. He began to inspect what parts of the body he could move (which weren’t a lot as rigor mortis had set in quite drastically), examining underneath Arne’s tattered clothes and fingernails. He tried to open his eyes, but they were too far gone to get a proper look, and he kept scanning, searching for any sort of clue. 

“He’s the seventh body you’ve found?”

“Yes.”

“And when did they start reappearing?”

“Seven suns ago,” Sigurd explained.

“Tell me about the Jötnar,” the Doctor murmured, breaking Arne’s wrist in an effort to get a better look, and Rose gasped. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry. The sound.”

“I know…” he whispered sadly, and she looked over at Sigurd, whose face had paled. She gave him a soft smile, and he seemed to remember the question he was asked.

“Jötunheim is one of the Nine Realms,” he began. “The Jötnar live there. They are a more barbaric race than us. Tall and mighty, deeply connected to the elements, especially frost. During Ragnarok, they sided with Jörmungandr and thought the Gods deserved punishment. Many legends speak of the strife they had with the Jötnar for many, many years. The origin of their disagreements vary, some tales claim it was due to power, others to the conditions of Jötunheim and Asgard themselves. Others say there was no real reason. It matters not, in the end. What is important is that the Jötnar are enemies to all who worship the Esir, in all Nine Realms. Even today.” 

“Esir?”

“Just another name for the Gods. A more respected one,” Sigurd explained. Rose bit her lip. 

“And Asgard is where the Gods - the Esir - live?” 

“Yes. When Ragnarok ended, and Jörmungandr was destroyed, the goddess Sif, Thor’s beloved, sealed the gates between the realms,” he explained. “We’ve been apart for centuries and have not seen any other race, including the Jötnar. That was until recently.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. 

“One night during a feast, an oracle told Gorm and a few other men a prophecy about a blue door that will open when the sun devours the moon. That death is approaching, and that the cry of the Jötnar would be the start.”

“The gate to Jötunheim… I’m assuming it’s blue?” the Doctor asked, looking up from Arne briefly. Sigurd, once again, nodded. “Well… I s’pose I see why Gorm was so upset by our ship.”

“Clear him from your mind. He has a fiery spirit,” Sigurd said. “He’s also been particularly worried.”

“Why?” Rose asked. Sigurd didn’t answer. 

“Death is approaching, that is what we were told. Naturally, my clan was in an uproar, so I went searching for the gate a few days after the oracle’s tale. They’re all hidden, you see. Sif made it that way so we would not be tempted. I didn’t find it, but… I did see what appeared to be Jötnar hiding the woods. It was a shock, and I didn’t dare investigate alone, but by the time a few men and I returned it was gone.” 

“What did it look like?” the Doctor pressed, scanning Arne again. Sigurd sighed. 

“It was tall. Its skin looked like it was made of ice. It was unmistakable.”

“But no one else saw it.”

“No,” Sigurd said. “Yet somehow word was spread that it was there, that I saw it, and there was a panic. I have been able to calm it. Feasts and gatherings have helped, but I fear there is only so much I can do. And the more dead bodies that wash up on shore, the harder it’s becoming to convince my clan they are safe. You saw what happened during the raid. We should have had injuries in half the number we did. They are distracted, and I fear it is as I said earlier, Doctor. We have been cursed.” 

“Oh, don’t make it sound so grim,” the Doctor hummed, shutting his sonic screwdriver off. Sigurd stared at him sourly. 

“I only speak the truth, Doctor. If you do not yet believe me, then please. Come with me to the forest. You shall see.”

The Doctor and Rose shared a knowing glance.

“If you insist,” the Doctor said, then looked back down at Arne. “He also has traces of some sort of venom in what’s left of his blood. I’ll need a sample.”

“For what?”

“I’ll tell you if I find anything,” he muttered, and Rose watched as he grabbed an already bloody knife from the table behind him and wiped it on his cloak, then cut a portion of Arne’s leg, gathering what he needed into a small container that used to hold leeches. 

“This oracle…” the Doctor continued. “Could we speak with her? Hear the prophecy directly?”

Sigurd, for the briefest of moments, almost seemed nervous, but he nodded. “I can take you there as well.” The Doctor took Rose’s hand, and Sigurd looked at her earnestly. “I am glad you are alright, drengr.”

“Thanks.”

“You both fight well,” he said. “I was surprised.”

“We need to sleep,” the Doctor replied rather than elaborate on why they could hold their own on a battlefield, and Sigurd nodded. “We’ll see you in a few hours?” 

“Yes. I must rest as well,” he sighed. “Come find me when you’re ready. I will be here. And thank you, truly, for all you did today.”

“Don’t mention it, yeah?” Rose said softly, and they left. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

To Rose’s surprise, he brought her to the guest house. 

“We aren’t going back to the TARDIS?” she asked, expecting him to insist that’s where they slept after the stress of the day, but he just shook his head as he unlocked the door. “Why not?”

“You heard Sigurd,” he began, slipping off his shoes. “Anything with the color blue could send the clan into a frenzy, I suspect. It's too far of a walk now that's its dark and cold and we haven't slept, and I don't want to move it. Gorm knows where it is, but that doesn’t mean we should risk anyone else finding it. Not when they're all so worried. This is better.”

“So change its disguise or whatever.”

He looked so appalled, she burst out laughing. 

“Change its disguise? ” he repeated. "What?"

“Yeah, with the chameleon circuit thingy. That’s what it’s supposed to do, right? Help the TARDIS blend in wherever it lands?" His mouth fell open, and she couldn't resist teasing him a little more. because she wasn't serious, not even a little bit. "Why don’t we ever use that? If you’re so worried about it, isn’t that an option?”

He gawked at her as she climbed into bed, not even registering the way her tongue was peeking out to say hello playfully. "Doctor?"

“Sorry…how do you even know about… What?!”

She smiled, then patted the spot next to her, which he refused to sit in until she explained herself. For a moment they looked at each other, and she realized he was genuinely baffled and possibly freaking out, and that she'd never actually told him most of the events that occurred with the dimension cannon. He hadn't asked, which she assumed meant he felt the less he knew the better, but she supposed it was time he knew this.

She didn't feel that tired anyway, somehow. 

“It might make you upset.”

“You were sliced by an ax, I think I’ve reached that quota for the day.”

She sighed. “Fine. Will you come here? Please?”

“What did you do, read the manual?” he asked sarcastically as he gave her what she was asking for and wrapped his arms around her, but her answer surprised him. 

“Yeah.”

He froze. 

“...really?”

“Yeah.”

“But you couldn’t have.”

“Well, I did.”

“It’s not in English .”

“The one I found was,” she mumbled, pulling away so she could look at him. “Alternate universe. You know how it is.”

She glanced out the window, looking at the beach. 

“The dimension cannon... Once, toward the end, I wound up in a universe where you… and the TARDIS, she…”

“What?”

“You both died,” she whispered, and her voice wavered, even though she tried so hard not to let it. “Thats when I met Donna for the first time. I thought it was this universe at first, until I found out you drowned beneath the Thames fighting something called The Racnoss -” he closed his eyes, but he listened. “I knew it was the wrong world immediately, but that she’d probably be nearby, the TARDIS, so I found her. She was dying, so I stayed for a while. Had to, really. And I guess I thought if I could understand her, if she’d let me in and see how she worked then maybe it would help me get to you faster. Then I showed her to Donna to try and help her remember you, you know, so she’d make the right choice…Or, left choice, I guess…”

She trailed off, nibbling on the skin around her thumb, waiting to see what he’d say, but he’d stopped breathing and was staring at her with wide eyes, fully aware of what (and when) she was talking about but still finding it impossible, and she collapsed onto the bed in a huff. 

When she spoke next, it was rushed, and she was so embarrassed she hid under a pillow. 

“I found the manual under your seat and I read it and that’s how I learned about the chameleon circuit and the chameleon arch and that’s how I know that if you connect Fluid Link K57 to K89 that it makes the fuel last longer, but that you gotta pay attention to the Hologramic Antlers when you land because they tend to break, and you can’t twist the interface stabilizer more than once, and…” 

She peeked an eye out from behind the pillow, her own breath stopping when she saw the way he was looking at her, and slowly she sat back up, smiling sheepishly.

He swallowed. Hard. 

“You -” he cleared his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing - “ you can fly the TARDIS.”

“Probably could try,” she admitted, shrugging, and the widest smile she’d ever seen him make broke out onto his face, giddy and boyish and so sexy it made her blush. “Shut up.”

“Rose…” he began, cupping her cheek, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what was happening suddenly. His limbs felt tingly, and his hearts were basically frozen in shock, but his insides felt warm, like he was drowning in a tub of hot wax. Dopamine. Serotonin. Oxytocin. Love. 

He loved her. 

He didn’t think it was possible to do so more than he already did, or to be more amazed by her, or to be more humbled by her presence, but he should know by now not to be surprised that she’d forever surprise him, shouldn’t he? She’d just taken everything he thought he knew and turned it over on its axis.

He would never understand it, but she chose him. Loved him. Paid enough attention to the laws of time (and his babbling) that she not only figured out a device that could break through the walls of the Void, but apparently, because of course she did, helped save other worlds along the way. She even looked after his mates and made up for his downfalls. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew why that version of himself was dead. If Donna hadn’t been there, he’d be dead himself, yet while he wallowed in wandering for two years, she learned how to operate the bloody TARDIS. 

(And mastered Krav Maga.) 

He started laughing, words not even an option at the moment, simply trying to decide if he should make love to her or ask her to keep talking until his very large brain shattered. She gave him a funny look, her own laughter starting when his turned a bit mad, and the next thing he knew he was hugging her, pressing her body as close to his chest as he could possibly get it, his laugh radiating all the way up to the stars and back down again.  

“What?” she asked, smiling, but he kissed her, and she didn’t need him to explain. 

"It's broken," he revealed. "The chameleon circuit. Broke ages ago."

"Good," she whispered, brushing her finger across his cheek. "I think I'd cry if she looked different. I was only kidding."

"I think I would too," he admitted, smiling, and he began to kiss her again, slowly laying her on the mattress until her taste restarted his shocked hearts and sent heat straight down to his toes. They were exhausted, and they really should sleep - especially her - but for some reason he couldn’t stand the thought of not being inside of her again, and he pulled away, asking for consent with a look she mirrored. 

He smiled, kissing her once more, and as the waves crashed onto the shore, as the snow continued to fall and the clan of Asgardstrand healed, they found themselves intertwined and moaning, writhing and thrusting and panting each other’s names.

In the distance, beyond the shadows of the forest too far for them to hear, a wolf howled.

Chapter Text

As far as temporary beds go, straw wasn’t the worst, and Rose found herself surprisingly rested by the time she woke up, stretching as the morning sunlight danced on her face. At the first scrunch of her toes she realized how sore she was (which she supposed only made sense after a day playing Viking), but overall she felt…fine . Whatever was in that Oil of Serenity stuff must have worked, because both the cut on her cheek and slice to her abdomen were gone.

She smiled, ready to share the good news with the Doctor, but the relief quickly vanished when she realized he was no longer in bed with her. 

He wasn’t even in the house . 

His shoes were gone, but the pinstripe suit he’d traded for the tunic was still drying near the fire next to her discarded clothes (blimey, was she wearing them yesterday?) so she knew he couldn’t have wandered too far. Even still, a small alarm bell was going off in her head, and she immediately threw the blanket off of herself and looked out the window. 

She saw nothing but vast ocean. 

“DOCTOR!” she shouted, hoping he was close enough to hear her, but all she did was spook a gull that was feasting on the ground. The panic she felt wasn’t logical, a part of her knew that, but she couldn’t help it, because he wouldn’t just leave without telling her where he was going. The old him would, the man in leather. She supposed even this wild-haired idiot might have a long time ago, but not now, not after magna clamps and Voids and star crossed reunions, and it was amazing how quickly she started to worry something horrible must have happened. 

She looked for a note, searching under anything and everything, when the door suddenly opened. 

“Hello,” he said, beaming, and she threw the pillow she was holding at him, knocking one of the pieces of fruit he had on a plate onto the floor. “What was that for?!!”

“Where were you?!” 

“Breakfast,” he said, holding up the plate. “Got it from a fishmonger on the pier near the beach. Brilliant fellow, Orin is his name, you’d like him.” She glowered. “Don’t look at me like that, I tried to wake you up. You groaned and kicked me.”

“You left.”

“I was gone five minutes,” he said softly. “Fifteen. Thirty at the most. I also snuck off to the TARDIS when I knew no one was watching and examined Arne’s blood. All I could determine was that it was an unidentifiable toxin that could be similar to an Adder or scorpion or something. I’ll keep an eye on it, I s’pose.”

He handed her an apple, which she just stared at. 

“Rose, take it.”

“You left,” she repeated bitterly, her hands suddenly on her hips like her mother so often did, and he almost smirked. “You can't do that!”

“I came right back.”

“Doctor,” she said seriously, the panic she’d felt exposed, and he lowered the apple, staring at her. “We can’t just leave each other. Not even for breakfast. Okay?”

It was silent for a moment, and he seemed to understand what she was really saying. That waking up without him for the first time in two months terrified her for reasons beyond his control, and a tender smile began to creep onto his cheeks. He kissed her. 

“Okay.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, letting out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, and after a few more pecks, she looked down at the food. Beyond the fruit (some of which he'd grabbed from the TARDIS), there was also some kind of fish and bread, and her tongue darted out knowingly. “I want the banana.”

“ Roooose -”

“Well, don’t wander off next time!” she teased. He gaped at her, opening his mouth to protest, but she grabbed the yellow morsel of goodness and split down the middle, offering him half. He took it begrudgingly, muttering something about how if had ‘ a banana for all the times she’d wandered off he’d be a rich man’, and they bantered and flirted while they ate, the air feeling a bit more normal. 

That was until she found herself looking out the window at the ocean again, and she put down what she was chewing, a thoughtful expression taking over the playful one. 

“It must be awful,” she whispered. “Drowning out there.”

He swallowed his bite slowly, then nodded. “It’s not exactly the quickest way to go...”

“His body didn’t even look human,” she said. “It was gray and weathered and pruny. Like a zombie or something.” 

“Salt,” he explained. “It dries the body out. That and general decompensation. Plus I imagine whatever toxin is in that venom wasn’t doing him many favors. Sure you want to talk about this now?” 

He gestured to the food. 

“I’m just thinking,” she revealed, and he couldn’t help but smile a bit, because this was Rose Tyler - the woman who thinks about the universe’s most pressing mysteries over breakfast, and he missed her. “He must have been scared. They all must have been.”

He nodded. 

“No one cried for ‘im. Even those we treated, no one was upset or complained or was angry. It’s like they were okay with it. People died yesterday and there were no tears. Their friends…” 

“Well,” the Doctor said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s like I said before. The Norse don’t fear death, Rose. It doesn’t make them sad like it does others. That doesn’t mean they don’t try to hold it off as long as possible, of course, death is still final, but it’s considered brave to die in battle. Honorable to be wounded.”

“We tried, you know?”

“We did everything we could,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said. “Sometimes I just wish there was more.”

He set the plate of food down and pulled her into a hug. Her lips fluttered as he kissed her head several times, hating himself for being so relieved to see that it had gotten to her - all the blood and death and screams. There was no way it hadn’t, at least he’d hoped not, but she’d been so strong that he hadn’t known what to make of it. 

She pulled away, giving him a soft smile. He cupped her cheek. 

“We’ll go meet Sigurd,” he said. “There’s more we can do. We just have to see what it is, yeah?”

“You still don’t believe he saw the Jötnar, do you?”

“No,” he said with a small smile. “But I understand it’s what they believe in, and that whatever this oracle said is frightening them. I can’t fault them for that. But I ran the scan - Arne, and all the others on his ship, drowned. Plain and simple. The rest is their own superstition.” 

She gave him a look like she wasn’t entirely convinced, but she didn’t argue. 

Instead, she picked up her bread and took a bite, finishing her meal in silence before they walked to the longhouse. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

The village square was, to the Doctor’s amazement, teeming with the freshly healed. 

It was as if a gruesome battle never happened. The snowfall from the night before had washed the bloodstains off of the ground, and kids were playing in it, making snow angels. Some of the people they’d treated were already up and about, bickering with merchants before waving, acknowledging their gratitude without saying a word.

“Looks like we did something, ” he said brightly, with a classic ‘Doctor’ grin. She smiled. 

It was their first time to really look at what Sigurd reigned over, and there was no denying the camaraderie amongst the clan. They were a family. They laughed, they argued, but they helped each other, and the Doctor and Rose took their time walking - perusing various shops and meeting as many people as they could. The smell of the ocean lingered in the air, and as they turned the corner toward the longhouse, the blacksmith caught their eye. Her dark hair was long and slicked back with sweat. Her stature was that of a warrior more than a merchant, arms as toned as an Olympian, and even from a distance the Doctor saw wisdom behind her eyes that was beyond her years. That was what made him curious, as she couldn’t be more than fifteen years old, but she held her own, grunting a little as she banged on a piece of metal with a mallet. 

“Let me guess…Family business?” the Doctor asked. She laughed, wiping sweat from her brow.  

“My father aims for me to take over one day, so yes,” she said, setting down the metal and brushing her hands on her apron. “Can I help you find something?”

“Oh, no…” he whistled, eyeing the weapons she had on display. There were several for sale - axes, spears, blunt-tipped maces, all crafted to perfection. “You made all these?”

“Aye,” she said. “If you give me what  you have, I’ll sharpen them without trade or coin. As a thank you for what you did yesterday.”

“You know us?” Rose asked. The girl laughed in disbelief. 

“Of course I do. Everyone’s talking about you. You arrived on a mysterious ship just before we’re hit with the bloodiest raid of the year and fight when you don’t have to. That alone is enough to earn your place amongst us, but then you saved most of our injured with magic potions -“

“ Medicine ,” the Doctor clarified. “A combination of different chemicals and herbs. Sort of. Well…” he touched his tongue to his teeth, thinking. ”I say sort of.”

“Sounds like magic to me,” she said, smiling. “Either way, you’re the talk of valor. I’m Tora.

“The Doctor,” he told her softly, touched by her compliment. “This is my… erm. My better half, I s’pose. This is Rose.”

“Hello,” Rose said, wiggling her fingers, nudging him a little so he knew his new introduction did not go unnoticed, and he bit the inside of his cheek, winking at her. Tora nodded. “Nice to meet you, but we should let you get back to work.”

“Nonsense, drengr. Give me your axes. I will sharpen them.”

“We don’t have any,” the Doctor explained. 

“You did yesterday.”

“Right…” he looked at Rose. “Those were on loan. From the Jarl.”

“You don’t carry an ax?”

“Nope.”

“Neither of you?”

“Nope.”

The look on her face could only be described as baffled, and the Doctor sighed, sharing another glance with Rose before he took her hand. Before they could say goodbye, however, the heavy sound of metal clanging onto a wooden table distracted them, and suddenly they were staring at two expertly crafted battle axes with wide eyes.

“Take them.”

“...sorry?” the Doctor scoffed, as if he’d misheard her. 

“If you’re going to be traveling around Asgardstrand, Doctor, you will need them. Consider it a welcome gift.”

“Won’t your father notice if they go missing?” Rose asked, already sensing how uncomfortable the thought of holding onto something like that for fun was making her better half. Tora shook her head.

“He won’t care when he knows who I gave them to,” she explained. “You need to protect yourself, drengr. You never know what might happen. Just the other day, while I was mining iron ore in the woods, I was chased down by a wild boar. I would’ve died without my ax. Take them .” 

The Doctor knew better than to argue (even though all he’d have to do to defeat a wild boar would be to aim the screwdriver at it and blast a frequency in its ear that would make it go to sleep). This was the Vikings’ way - axes and warfare - and to refuse Tora when all she was trying to do was help would be a sign of disrespect so vile they’d likely be challenged to a duel and they’d wind using them anyway, so he nodded, gingerly handing one to Rose, who slipped it in her belt. He gave her a stoic look before doing the same.

“They match you well,” Tora said. The Doctor sniffed. 

“Thanks.” 

“Come back when you need them sharpened,” she added with a twinkle in her eye, and Rose couldn’t help but nearly crack a smile, jokingly thinking to herself that if she had had half the knack for sales as Tora back at Henrik’s, her life might have been very different. 

(But luckily for her - she was rubbish at it.)

“See ya,” she said, pulling the Doctor away. They walked over to another shop, nodding hello at the keeper before she made them tuck around the back of it, and she didn’t know what came over her, but she suddenly had him pressed against the wall in a deep snog. 

He mumbled something against her lips she didn’t try to understand. Almost desperately, her fingers were wrapped in his hair, tugging just enough to turn his words to moans, and it wasn’t long before one kiss became several. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact he encouraged it, clutching her waist closer with every brush of tongue until his arms completely engulfed her. 

Soft pants filled the quiet space, and he groaned when she ran her hand across his chest, settling just above his hearts. “W-What brought this on?” 

Forget the axes. His voice was going to kill her.

“Dunno,” she whispered. “Just wanted to. Better half and all.”

A sly smile greeted her, and he kissed her again, stopping briefly when some of the kids who had been playing in the snow came zipping by, screaming and giggling and throwing snowballs at one another. She rubbed her lips together and gazed up at him, trying her best to ignore the children, because he was there and he was looking at her in just the right way. 

Her heart began to race when three words she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say almost slipped out. 

“Doctor…?” she panted, breathless. (It made a lovely part of his anatomy pulsate against her hip.) 

“...hm?”

Her smile widened, and she touched his lips with her finger, shuddering when he kissed it. “Can I tell you something important?”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other. 

“ Run !”

The kids threw a snowball in their direction - which she’d seen coming, of course, and he yelped as it missed his head and landed with a thud on the wall. The merchant who owned whatever shop this was started chastising the young ones, and the Doctor called out to them, telling them it was a ‘good effort’ before he grabbed Rose and ran away, and sure enough, they forgot about the axes on their hips. 

For a little while, they were the Doctor and Rose Tyler as they were meant to be - the center of everyone’s attention, holding hands as if they’d never let go, giddy and happy, and they frolicked to the longhouse. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

They fully expected to wait for Sigurd, seeing as it was the middle of the day and he probably had important kingly things to do, but he was outside next to Revna, chatting quietly. She was on her knees doing something with bloody rags, and almost instantly Rose noticed her energy was a bit frantic but Sigurd’s was unflappable - a stark contrast from the apologetic and almost desperate man they’d seen after the battle. This Sigurd felt like a King, undeniably proud, the same way he was when he stopped Gorm from slicing the Doctor’s neck. 

He also looked regal. His bearskin cloak had been traded for one made of deer hide, and the antlers served as a collar, towering above his head like some kind of crown. He bowed a little as they approached.  

“Ah! Hello,” he mused. “I trust you are both rested?”

“Are you?” the Doctor asked, but Sigurd just looked at Revna, who finished wringing out the cloth she was currently cleaning before wiping her hands on her apron. Urgency lined her eyes, and she grabbed Rose’s arm, looking between her and the Doctor. 

“I am so sorry,” she began. “I wanted to tell you this yesterday, but there was no time. I apologize for my rashness at the guest house. I was wrong. If you thought our Gods and traditions so trivial, you would not have done all you did. I see now they are looking down on us through you. Thank you.”

Rose smiled softly. The Doctor clenched his jaw, not sure how to respond, but she continued before he could try. 

“Might I ask…did you find anything with the body?” she urged. “I’ve examined each one myself and have found nothing. I noticed you took a sample of blood. Please tell me you found something.”

The Doctor glanced at Sigurd, who subtly shook his head, silently asking him to keep whatever he may have found between them, at least for now. He frowned. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary, considering his condition.” 

Her face was crestfallen.

“Very well,” she concurred grimly, then looked down at the bucket of water at her feet. When she glanced back up, her disappointment was gone, replaced with conviction. “I hear you are exploring with my brother today. I am pleased you shall see what beauty Asgardstrand has after the welcome you received. But remember, you must be back by dusk. We are holding a gathering for those we lost tonight.” 

 “What, like a funeral?” Rose asked. Sigurd smiled kindly at her. 

“Not one I imagine you are familiar with, drengr. It will be a traditional Asgardian tribute,” he said simply. The Doctor perked up. “I must agree with my sister. The Esir brought you to us at the right time. Several of our injured made full recoveries by sunrise.”

“It was like magic,” Revna said with a smile. The Doctor rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to lecture about science again, Rose was certain, so she touched his arm and smiled in his stead. 

“Is there anything else we can do?”

“Not at all,” Revna said. “But that’s very kind. Sigurd is eager for what he had planned for you all, I can tell. I must not steal you away any longer.”

“Takk, sister,” the Jarl murmured, kissing her cheek in thanks. They watched as she picked up the bucket of bloody water before disappearing into the hall, and the Doctor noticed that Sigurd waited until she was out of earshot to step onto the snow and speak freely. 

“Thank you, drengr. I told her I wanted to take you both hunting to show my appreciation. She knows nothing else. I want to keep it that way for now.” 

“Why?” Rose asked, confused. Revna clearly knew something was going on, but he pursed his lips, glancing over at the village square.

“There’s a buzz in the air today. One I haven’t felt in some time. I believe it’s because of you. My clan needs that. I don’t want distractions.”

“And venturing into the woods to look for public enemy #1 isn’t that?” the Doctor pressed with a raised eyebrow. Sigurd crossed his arms. 

“Not for them. And the only way to keep their spirits is to get rid of the Jötnar and stop that prophecy,” he explained. “My hope is they’ve already gone, but I need to be sure. You want to know more too, do you not?”

“Of course,” Rose said, answering before the Doctor could add some kind of witty quip, and Sigurd nodded. 

“Then we must go, and we must do so now. You will see. We’ll stop by the oracle on the way back. I suspect she knows we are coming.” 

Before the Doctor or Rose could say another word, Revna walked back out holding three sets of bows and arrows, handing one to each of them. 

“Happy hunting,” she said. 

“Many thanks, sæta,” Sigurd said, kissing her cheek. The Doctor stared at the equipment for a moment, eyeing the leather binding and strings, suddenly remembering he had the ax on his hip, and he found the idea of holding onto so many weapons at once utterly preposterous, but he knew he still couldn’t argue. 

(He could roll his eyes at it all though, and just because he had them didn’t mean he had to use them.) 

“Thank you,” he said, taking one set and slipping it into place. Rose did the same effortlessly, eyeing one of the arrows as if she was some kind of expert before she put it back into the holder. He raised an eyebrow. 

“You took archery, too.”

“Won a championship,” she mumbled. He burst out laughing. 

“Of course you did.”

“Be on your guard,” Sigurd said in a hushed tone as he began to lead them away from the longhouse. “The woods can be a formidable place. Daylight should work in our favor, but best to be prepared. I see you have acquired new axes, that’s good. You each know how to shoot?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said dully, sharing a glance with Rose. “Formidable how?”

Sigurd didn’t reply. Instead, he gestured to the stables. 

“It’s several paces away, where we need to go. It will be faster on horseback. The black mare is mine. You may have your pick of the others.”

“You know, I found a horse once,” the Doctor said as he climbed atop spotted steed. ”Someone wouldn’t let me keep it.”

He winked at Rose, who just rolled her eyes. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

The journey, at first, was quiet. 

They traveled along a cold stream, clear as glass. It trickled onto variations of moss and weeds, underscoring the pa-pat of horse hooves. Trees covered the sky in a blanket of green, and it amazed Rose especially, how infinite the forest felt. Perhaps it was the snow, but it seemed to stretch on for miles, surrounded by rocky hills that, if they were to climb up and over, would only lead to more forest. The wildlife did not fear them, and several times she caught deer gazing at their horses from across the water, or hares scurrying near their feet. 

It was serene. 

Calm. 

(Like the eye of a storm.) 

Sigurd glanced back fairly often to make sure they were keeping up, and after several minutes of silence he began to ride at a slower pace, making it so all three of them were trotting along in one horizontal line. A moment passed, perhaps two, before he gave them one long, thoughtful look. 

“Might I be bold?” he asked. The Doctor nodded, amused. “How did you two meet? Your companionship seems unwavering. I just wonder… was it always that way?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” the Doctor said. “First word I ever said to her was ‘run.’”

“And did you?”

“We’ve never really stopped,” Rose murmured with a smile. “Together or apart.”

“Apart?” the Jarl mused. “You were not always together?”

Rose simply shrugged. “We were. Just not always in the same place.”

Even Sigurd’s heart softened at the tenderness of her tone, watching as the Doctor looked at her with devotion, seemingly unable to stop from smiling. He found it as fascinating as he had during the feast, the way they spoke without words. The fact that their affection for one another affected him. He shook his head in awe. 

“So this is what you do,” he said. “Travel for adventure.”

“Not always,” the Doctor admitted. “Sometimes we do it for fun or because we ran out of milk.”

“Happens a lot, that.”

“Every five days or so.”

They smiled at each other. Sigurd laughed, not understanding the joke, but somehow knowing it was one all the same. “And which was it here? Adventure, fun, or a need for milk?”

“This was a surprise,” the Doctor said. “We didn’t know where we were till we arrived.”

“Is it the furthest you’ve gone? Norway?”

It was silent for a moment, and Sigurd didn’t miss the new look they shared - one of grief. Lingering and raw and unsettling. He cleared his throat. 

“I take it, it’s not.”

(Rose’s honesty surprised her.) 

“Depends on how you look at it.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

The Doctor tugged on his ear, rocking with his horse as it swayed and navigated the terrain. “Oh, you know how it is. Think of all the time you’ve spent at sea. Out on the open water… Hours feel like weeks, inches like miles. Travel as long as I have - as we have - and eventually it all goes wonky. We lost track of that sort of thing ages ago.”

Sigurd was confused, but fascinated, and the Doctor sniffed, looking around. 

“What were you doing out here anyway?” he asked as they passed a fallen tree that must have blown over in a storm. Rose bit her lip, aware he was changing the subject for a variety of reasons that had to do with ‘never ever’ and ended with three words she’d only said once in a Norway much farther than this, and it stirred something deep in her chest. “This is a long ways off from the village.”

“Yes, that it is,” he said. “I am less familiar with this part of the forest. I thought, when one is looking for hidden gates to the remaining realms, that the unknown seemed like a good place to start.”

“Quite right.”

“How much farther did you go?” Rose asked kindly. Sigurd pointed at a patch of trees.

“We will follow those toward a new set of cliffs, at which point we ought to let the horses graze and rest. The rest is a short but steep walk down to the shore.” 

“We’re going to the beach?” Rose asked. 

Sigurd merely nodded, and with a click of his heel, directed his horse toward the trees. The Doctor and Rose followed, both of their instincts stirring as the green tapestry transformed into clear sky and the stream became a waterfall. They passed a few stone cairns, which Rose had never heard of and thought looked rather odd - rocks stacked on top of one another - but when the Doctor explained they were usually built to mark graves, the feeling in the air shifted. 

After a while they were dismounting, letting the horses do what they needed to to get ready for the journey back. Sigurd beckoned them towards the edge of a cliff at the end of the forest. They had to climb down through a thick ocean mist, cold and gray, and even though they couldn’t see the bottom of the rocks they were slowly descending upon, they could smell the salt and hear the waves. 

When they finally reached the sand, it bounced beneath their feet. 

“Asgardstrand, drengrs. In all her glory,” Sigurd hummed proudly, pointing across the shore. Through the fog, they could faintly see the outline of the village. “Come, this way.”

The Doctor followed him, but Rose stayed where she was, something about the view captivating. Her eyes traced it all slowly, outlining every shop and home and ship on the dock - the same one she’d bled on, and it dawned on her…

This wasn’t any beach.

This was where the white wolf had stood. 

Instinctually, she reached for her temples, trying to kill the headache before it began, but an odd feeling washed over her. Not quite like before, consuming and debilitating. This was softer and milder, and in some ways more alarming. Her head never throbbed, but it did feel fuzzy and her limbs grew weak , and before she could stop herself she collapsed onto the sand, catching her breath. 

The Doctor, who was rambling at Sigurd and scanning every inch of the beach like a kid at Christmas, noticed. “Rose?”

When she didn’t respond, he bolted over to her, kneeling down to cup a hand to her cheek.  “Rose, look at me.”

The moment their eyes locked, it all went away, and she smiled as brightly as she ever had. 

(Brighter, even.) 

“Hello.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” she said, squeezing his arm as she stood. He helped her up. “What were you doing?”

“What were you doing?”

“We need to keep going this way,” Sigurd interrupted before she could answer, gesturing toward the other end of the beach. “There is a cave.”

“Lead the way,” Rose said, but they moved a grand total of five steps before the Doctor pulled her back, giving her a stern look. “What?”

“Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine , pinkie toe promise.”

“Did you collapse?”

She knew he meant well. She knew he cared. She could hear it in his voice - the longing to just make sure she was alright, but once again she didn’t know how to explain it and she didn’t want to talk about it. They didn’t have time right now, anyway. The wolf was just a wolf, and it wasn’t even there this time. She was fine. 

To make her point, she grabbed the sonic screwdriver out of his hand. 

“What setting?” she mumbled. He smiled a little, then sniffed. 

“For what? Checking the vitals of reckless humans?” She sighed, but he stepped a little closer, eyes never leaving her face as he twisted the knob once, then twice. “Two thousand and five.”

Her eyes widened, and before she had a chance to use it, his lips were on hers and the sonic was back in his hand, dangling above her head. She protested, trying to grab it, but he smiled and chuckled against her mouth, breaking apart a moment later. Then, he scanned her, and when they locked eyes, the desire swimming between them was palpable. 

Her gaze darted to his lips, her tongue doing its clever thing.

“Am I dying?”

“No.”

“Anything wrong at all?”

He shook his head. 

“DRENGRS!” Sigurd called, and they looked up. He was pointing to something they couldn’t see off in the distance, and the Doctor let out a long breath. She smiled, holding out her hand for him to take. 

The waves crashed behind them as they walked, joining Sigurd near some rocks. “I saw it there. Do you see those trees? The cave is to the right, near where the forest picks back up. It’s tucked into that far stone that juts out a little ways into the water. It was at the entrance.” 

“So what are we doing now? Waiting for it to show up again?” the Doctor asked. Sigurd shook his head.

“I have a theory. Look at the sand.”

They did. 

“What about it?” Rose asked softly, kneeling down, picking some up and letting it run through her fingers. Sigurd looked down at the sonic screwdriver - which the Doctor was still holding. 

“The Jötnar are connected to the elements, and according to legend, leave traces of their connection behind them wherever they go. The humans of Midgard used to be able to see it, long ago. We no longer can. We have no way of tracking the Jötnar, but… perhaps you do. With that device of yours.”

The Doctor quirked an eyebrow. 

“I know not what it does or how it works, nor do I care. I didn’t think to ask until you were scanning Arne’s body. I’ve seen you use it and learn things you couldn’t possibly know. With him, with my armor. You healed my injured clan with it -”

“Weelll, not really. Technically it helped -”

“You used it now on Rose for whatever reason, did you not?” he said with a smile, and the Doctor’s jaw clamped shut, unable to argue. “Whatever magic lives inside might find the trail the Jötnar left.”

“What do they look like, the traces?” Rose asked. 

“I can not say for sure. No one has seen it since the gates were sealed, but when my father told me of it in legends, he said it looked like some sort of bright blue dust.”

In his heart of double hearts, the Doctor knew whatever he thought he saw could not possibly have been the Jötnar. But he had no idea what else it could have been, not with the information he had, and he had no way of disproving (or proving) any theory without testing all the facts, so he began to scan the sand, adjusting the settings as he went to try and unearth whatever hidden mystery might be there. 

He found nothing. Rose’s eyes flickered to the cave. 

“Let’s look in there.”

She took the lead, slowly making her way over to the entrance, which was hidden rather well, she had to admit. Moss and ivy shielded most of the crevice from view, but she pushed both aside and made her way towards the center. It was a small cave - narrow and cold; dark and wet. The ground was covered in water, and it rippled as she explored. The Doctor and Sigurd followed her, and as the Jarl moved to one of the corners, the Doctor stared up at the ceiling. 

“How tall are they? The Jötnar?”

“Twice our height, at least”

“This cave is, what, half a meter above my head?” he mused. “So unless it was sat the entire time, I don’t see how it could have dwelled here. What was it doing when you saw it?”

“Sitting…”

The Doctor sniffed, then scanned the stalagmites beside him, glancing at Rose. 

“Anything?”

She shook her head, climbing down the rock she was on and walking back over to him. He put an arm around her waist, thinking. 

“It’s empty, Sigurd.”

The Jarl stopped and turned to them, sighing hesitantly. “You’re certain?”

“I’m not seeing anything unusual,” he told him, wiggling the sonic. “Perhaps you didn’t see what you thought you did.”

“I am not lying, Doctor.”

“I know,” he said. “But there could be another explanation.”

“Like what?” 

Rose nibbled on her lip, sensing how much Sigurd wanted what they were saying to be true but was still not completely convinced, and she looked around, trying to see if there was anything they’d somehow overlooked. Only then did she notice a small patch of moss on the back wall, one that looked out of place next to the branches that were draped across it, and she marched over to it, plucking it, throwing it onto the floor next to the branches until it revealed a crack in the stone.

Light, almost blindingly, spilled into the room. 

“Doctor!”

He ran to her, brow furrowed, and inspected the crack carefully. A buzz hovered over them, and Sigurd watched with bated breath.

“There’s more to it…”  

He stuck his arm through, feeling around for anything dangerous, then smiled. “It’s another room.” Rose bit her lip, and he looked back at Sigurd, grinning. “I s’pose it can’t hurt to look. It’ll be tight, but we should all fit through.”

“Is there a way out?” Sigurd asked, but before the Doctor could respond Rose felt something come over her, and she pushed herself forward, sliding through the small space effortlessly. Her face came into view on the other side, and she smiled. 

The Doctor sighed, looking at her with an odd mix of irritation, arousal, and expectation, because he wasn’t surprised even a little bit she’d just done that. She shrugged.

“It's not wandering off if you can still see me,” she hummed. “Come on!”

“You are full of adventure, drengr,” Sigurd said, stepping into the new room, followed by the Doctor, who stopped in his tracks. 

It was huge. 

A wide circle, three levels deep. The one they were on at the top, which was mostly flat and covered in moss. One a little further down they’d have to jump onto that seemed to hold old weapon racks and armor, and a man-made chasm on the lowest one. Staircases were built into the rock with wooden beams. Old fire pits sat untouched and cold, but the ceiling (which was several meters above their heads) had pieces missing, allowing small pools of sunlight in. They could hear water, but they couldn’t see it, and the Doctor found it all fascinating, jumping onto the second level almost immediately. 

“This belonged to miners,” he deduced. “Seems we’ve got pickaxes on these racks.”

“Indeed?” Sigurd asked, equally intrigued. “I didn’t know anyone had settled this far into the woods.” 

“I don’t think they stayed,” the Doctor said, giving him a look. “But what were they mining, that’s the question. None of these rocks have iron ore or nickel in it. Titanium, perhaps? Though they wouldn’t have to create this sort of dwelling for all that… It doesn’t even look like a mine…It’s impressive.”

Rose, on the other side of the platform, shouted in surprise. 

“Sorry!” she said, giving him a small smile when he looked at her in alarm. “I’m fine, just…There’s… it’s a dead body.”

The Doctor marched over to her, peering over her shoulder at a skeleton dressed in torn leather. Something about it almost didn’t feel human. It was no more than a meter long, and its spine swooped as if all the body weight it once carried had been isolated to the upper back. He knelt down, exhaling slowly as he lifted the arm..“It’s been here for a while.” 

“There’s another,” Sigurd announced. “It’s rather small, no? A child?”

“I don’t think so…” the Doctor muttered, then, with a classic ‘deductive face’, peered out into the chasm. “But the real question is - why did they build that ?”

“Doctor, be careful,” Rose said as he climbed down the shoddy staircase, which he noticed was built for someone with a gait much shorter than his. Slowly, he began to circle the chasm. “What do you see?”

“Hard to say,” he muttered. It was covered in blood and dust, but there seemed to be cots thrown about. The Doctor jumped down so he could scan one, scratching his head when it just seemed to be a normal bed. He reached under one, furrowing his brow when he found scrolls written in an ancient language he didn’t know and the TARDIS couldn’t translate. He sat on a crate, observing it. 

“This is a Nidavellir,” Sigurd suddenly exclaimed. “They are dwarves.”

The Doctor looked up, frowning. “That’s not possible.”

“Of course it is,” the Jarl protested. “Dwarves live in Nidavellir exclusively. I’ve never seen one, as they are usually found in Svartalfheim, but I recognize the signs. They often built them in areas that were secluded, underground, or tucked away. The chasm is where they sleep. There are beds, I presume?”

The Doctor stayed silent.

“Rose, drengr, look around, see if you can find welding stations. Dwarves are miners, yes, but more so they are masters of metal. Before the gates were sealed, Midgard often traded with them. For fish or game, they’d give us enchanted rings made of dwarven gold to aid us in raids, or runes that they’d craft into our axes that made them stronger.”

“They lived here?” Rose asked. 

“Indeed. A Nidavellir is not just a mine, it is a sanctuary. They live and work in them. This is… This must be centuries old, built before Ragnarok…”

“What about this?” Rose asked, pointing to an old wooden table that had been broken in half and thrown against a wall on the top level. Sigurd ran to it. “Is this a welding station?”

“Yes. Doctor, trust me. Those bodies are - were - dwarves.”

The Doctor wasn’t listening. He tugged at his ear, peering between the beds and the scroll, trying to remain objective, but his hearts were pounding . Logically, this didn’t make sense. Nidavellir Dwellings were the stuff of myth, as was Svartalfheim, as much as the Jötnar and all the other realms were. Religion for religion’s sake; a society’s way of explaining the unexplainable. It wasn’t possible. Or, he supposed it was, but it was as he told Rose - not here. Not on Earth. This planet was simply too young to have such ancient magic (which was really science, but in this one instance, magic felt better) built into her core, and his brain was fighting his eyes. 

Time wouldn't allow it. 

Yet, there were dusty bones near Rose’s feet that said otherwise, and he was fairly certain he was reading a dead language he didn’t think was real.

He looked for Rose, then, wanting to hear her input, but she was on the other side of the cave entirely, picking up random bits of wood and rock and showing it to Sigurd, who would either nod or shake his head. He smiled to himself for a moment as he watched her - the eagerness to help and understand that which she did not radiating from her very existence without her even trying. Once again, he felt himself fall, because after all this time she was still so spectacular. Laughing not because she found anything particularly funny, but because there was new ground beneath her feet.  

She was the only bit of legend worth believing in, and he ran a hand across his jaw, unable to stop staring at her as she opened a chest and held up a small shield playfully. He put the scroll down and smiled when looked at some weapon Sigurd was holding in confusion, sticking her tongue out as she undoubtedly made a joke about it.

He almost said it - those three words. Even opened his mouth to shout it so loudly the stalactites might fall and crush him, but she pulled something else out of the chest that made them all stop. 

A small piece of metal - one that was glowing gold. 

 “Put that down, saeta,” Sigurd commanded. The Doctor ran up to them, practically jumping onto the platforms. 

“What is it?”

“Put it down. ”

“What’s going on?” the Doctor snapped, glaring at Sigurd for being so cross when Rose hadn’t done anything wrong. She kept the metal in her hand, watching as he observed it from afar. 

“Put it down,” Sigurd repeated angrily.

“It looks broken,” the Doctor noted. “Here, let me.”

“No!” Sigurd urged. “I am Jarl! We do nothing with it except bring it to the statue of Thor off the southern coast! It’s a day's journey at least. I’ll ready my crew in the morning.”

Rose smiled, almost like she was about to laugh. “What’s Thor got to do with it?”

The Doctor, however, pieced it together. “This is part of his hammer.”

Sigurd clenched his jaw so hard, they could practically hear him grind his teeth. “I do not know how it is here. But we should not touch it.”

“Hang on,” Rose said. “Why’s it glowing?”

“He was Esir, drengr. Like the Jötnar, he was also connected to the elements. Thunder, lightning, storms…. It is partly why they fought so often.” 

“Let me see it,” the Doctor requested, giving Sigurd a careful look as Rose handed the piece to him. He didn’t believe it, she knew that, and she didn’t realize how intensely she was holding her breath until he scanned and, yes, licked the metal, and her heart skipped when he stared at it in utter confusion. 

It tasted like time. 

He dropped it. 

“WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!” Sigurd roared, but just as the Doctor realized his mistake and tried to reach for it, it fell onto the second platform, then the last, bouncing off an old wheelbarrow and hitting a loose stone. Like a pebble hitting the water, a loud noise echoed around them, and the next thing any of them knew the ground was shaking.

They heard something scream. 

“RUN!” the Doctor ordered, grabbing Rose, and as quickly as they could they tried to make it back to the small entrance that led them there. But the piece of the hammer was trembling, glowing even brighter than before, and a very thin bolt of lightning pierced a new hole into the ceiling, followed by another in the back of the cave, creating a wide gap. The platforms began to break off like an avalanche, making it hard for them to get where they were trying to go, and the Doctor changed course, heading down to the chasm. 

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” Sigurd barked. 

“It just made us an exit,” he shouted, dodging falling stones. Another bolt of lightning struck the tallest platform, destroying it completely. “GO, NOW!!”

“SIGURD, COME ON!” Rose screamed, but the Jarl was slower than they were and just as they were about to make their escape, he was trapped behind debris. The Doctor groaned. 

“Oh, for the love of….”

He grabbed his ax. 

“Stay here.”

He ran, but Rose (unsurprisingly) didn’t do as she was told and looked for another way out in case they didn’t make it to this one before the cave…caved in. She was circling the chasm, dodging rocks as they fell, when suddenly she saw it. 

On the scroll was bright blue dust. 

Without thinking, she grabbed it and stuck it in her belt, then looked for the Doctor. 

He was using the ax to pry Sigurd free, and managed to grab him just as a final piece of stone that was large enough to crush them both fell right where they’d just been, and they ran. 

“ROSE?!!!” 

“COMING!” she screamed, but another rock fell, nearly slicing her arm. “DOCTOR!” 

“SIGURD, GO !”

The Jarl understood, but he shook his head. “That’s no way to get into Valhalla. Abandoning your friends.”

The Doctor just nodded, frantically trying to find her. 

 “ROSE! WHERE ARE YOU?”

“I’m over here!” she screamed, managing to pull herself away from the chasm, but there was so much debris and dirt flying around she could barely see anything. She coughed, and she noticed the light of the sonic as he waved it, but just as she started to make her way towards him she stopped. 

The piece of the hammer was no longer glowing. 

She shoved it in her shoe. 

“DOCTOR!!!” 

“JUST FOLLOW MY VOICE!” 

The entire second platform fell. 

Next, the roof began to shatter. 

Suddenly, two hands grabbed her waist, and tugged. 

She collapsed on top of him, wincing a little, but neither had time to smile or feel any sort of relief. They simply clamored to their feet, holding hands, and ran as fast as they could toward the exit. Sigurd was right there with them, and they practically leapt onto the snow, gasping and panting as the final crash of the cave ricocheted around them. 

Then, it was silent.

Chapter Text

For several moments, they sat there, stunned. 

The cave was a pile of rubble at their feet. The vast expanse of the Nidavellir gone; turned to ash and stone. To the next passerby, it might look like sea rocks that had somehow gotten pushed upshore. A mysterious ruin, even. It didn’t matter in the end, no one would ever know what was inside, and that loss seemed to be Sigurd’s focus as he stood and walked over to it.

“May Odin keep you…” he whispered. 

The Doctor looked at Rose, who was still catching her breath. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, pulling her into a hug. She nodded. 

“Yeah. You?” 

Rather than answer, he kissed her, hoping her taste would calm his beating hearts, because no, he wasn’t particularly alright. He didn’t know how to tell her that, but even still she seemed to sense the uneasiness he felt, because her body curved against his like she was the sturdiest thing he’d ever known, and it was almost enough to convince him he was overreacting. That maybe there was something he’d misunderstood, that maybe everything was fine, and he almost let himself believe it - until an odd metallic flavor flooded his tongue. 

Time. 

He released her instantly, desperately, and something about his demeanor must have shifted, because she was suddenly asking him what was wrong and begging him to look at her. But all he could do was run his tongue across his teeth just as he had on his very first day in this body, inspecting each bicuspid, his face morphing into the same type of confusion. 

“Ohhh, that’s weird…”

Her eyes widened, and he sniffed. 

“I need a toothbrush.” 

For a second, she just stared at him. 

“You git,” she scoffed as she body slammed him into another hug, obviously feeling some sort of relief. He smiled slightly, then squeezed her, rubbing her back slowly and calmly, even though he felt anything but...

The hammer (which he supposed he had no choice but to admit once belonged to Thor ), was infused with it. 

Time. 

But how?

Esir weren’t Time Lords. If they were, it would have been written in the fabric of the universe, at the time of Shadow Proclamation. He’d know. Gallifrey wasn’t exactly humble about their contributions to the universe, and up until five minutes ago he thought these Gods were a myth, something entirely impossible on this planet he found such refuge in. 

Turns out, after 900 years, he didn’t know a damn thing. 

It was surreal, yes, but also a little exciting. After all, he was a rather curious man, and honestly what’s the point of traveling if you think you’ve learned everything? On one hand, what a turn of events it was to know that even Earth could surprise him, and there was a part of him that felt like they had nothing to be concerned about. That all this meant was there was new ground to uncover and the best course of action would be to run to the oracle and hear the prophecy and batta-bing batta-boom. Sure, they might have to fight a bit, but hey , why not live a little? He had her hand to hold, he could do it. 

Except that this was more than realms existing where they shouldn’t, and right now, that was the crux of what he found most concerning. The essence of time couldn’t simply appear. It certainly couldn’t be bottled as paint. It was weaved into the Vortex, something so powerful not even Time Lords knew how to control it completely (hence, not-so-new teeth)...so how did Asgard get it? 

(Jackie was right. Sometimes he really did go looking for trouble, didn’t he?) 

“I…” he began, then sighed. “I think I was wrong…” 

She pulled away, about to say something comforting he was sure, when suddenly the sound of metal scratching rock screeched in their ears. Sigurd was hopelessly trying to pull the rubble apart, his knuckles starting to bleed, the metal on his ax creating hot sparks in the air. 

They ran. 

“What are you doing?!” the Doctor yelled. “Sigurd, stop !”

“Something was in there!” he protested, shaking Rose off, who’d tried to grab his arm. “I heard it scream. ”

“Sigurd -”

“What if it was the Jötnar?!” he hissed. “This is where it was, Doctor! This cave! The oracle said the cry of the Jötnar would be the start and then death would be approaching. I can’t let that be true.” He tugged at another rock, grunting. “My people might value the honor of a fight, but there is no glory in condemning a clan to their fates. If I can fight to stop it, I must. I have to see what it was!” 

He mustered enough strength to pull one of the stones away, so heavy it bent one of his fingers back, and Rose squirmed when she heard the bone break. He yelped in pain. 

“It’s no use - ”

“Get out of the way, drengr.”

He pushed her aside, and the Doctor ran a hand through his hair, watching him for a moment. Once again, he was the desperate man they’d seen after the battle; no more than a young boy whose reign of two winters wasn’t enough to handle the turmoil he was facing. In another life, the Doctor might feel bad for him, but right now he was irritated, and all he could do was wait until Sigurd’s exhaustion began to take over his paranoia and he collapsed by the edge of the stones, holding his bleeding hand to his chest. 

“Feel better?” he asked dully. When he tried to look at the break, Sigurd glared at him. 

“We must go talk to the oracle. Stay five paces behind me, Doctor.”

“What?”

“The hammer is gone.” 

“Oh, please, it was one small piece -” 

Angrily, Sigurd stood and began to trudge through the snow, but Rose stopped him after just a few steps, her voice stern and charged. “Oi! Is this how a Jarl behaves? Throwing a tantrum because something didn’t go his way?”

He turned on a dime, his fury radiant. 

“How dare you -”

“No, how dare you! You made us come here! You said you’d show us what we needed to see, and we all knew there was a risk. You getting upset over something that’s done is just gonna make all this worse. If that hammer did belong to Thor -”

“Of course it did -” 

“- then isn’t there a chance it would have burst no matter what, even if we didn’t find it? The Doctor got it away from us and we got out. We’re alive . You should be thanking him.”

“ Thanking him?”

“We can still leave,” she said hotly, and the Doctor found himself fighting a smile, watching her say all the things he could but wouldn’t. “We have no reason to be here, but I don’t think you want us to do that, do you? I think you need us. You already have. That’s why you brought us here. You want our help.”

Sigurd's eyes darted to the Doctor, who rocked on his feet almost smugly, then shrugged. 

"We’ve seen a lot of things, Sigurd,” Rose continued. “And for what it's worth, we believe you.  But you have to treat us like we’re on your side.”

“Saeta -” 

“My name is Rose .”

They watched as he took a deep breath, then let it out, nodding. The Doctor, feeling rather proud, slipped his hand into hers and looked up at the sky, which was still bright with daylight, deducting. 

“Do you know where we are?” he asked the Jarl, who shook his head. “Is the oracle in the village?”

“Just outside. Near the grain farms,” he explained quietly. The Doctor sniffed. 

“Right… Well, if we can make it back around to the beach, then theoretically we can get to the horses and backtrack,” he said, pointing. “Let's try that way, around the rocks.”

“Very well,” Sigurd mumbled. “I’ll…follow you.” 

The Doctor and Rose shared a glance, because they both seemed to feel that was his way of telling them he did trust (and need them), so they took the lead, walking several feet ahead for many, many minutes. 

Every step she took, Rose could feel the bit of hammer lodged in her boot.

The Doctor, once he knew Sigurd was far enough away that he couldn’t hear them, squeezed her hand. 

“Have I ever told you how cute I find it when you scold someone?” 

She rolled her eyes. 

“It’s your mouth, there’s this…lip pursing, tongue tapping…thing. It’s exceptional. Even when you’re angry with me.”

“Call me cute again and I will be angry with you,” she teased, smiling when he clicked his jaw and moved his arm around her shoulder. “Sigurd isn’t wrong. I heard something scream, too. I get why he was upset.”

“Yes, but you were right , jumping to conclusions won’t help,” he whispered. A moment passed. “If not cute, then… sweet?” She raised her eyebrow. “Lovely. Brilliant?”

She gave him a playful poke. “That’s better.”

They bantered back and forth for several more minutes, until their meandering somehow brought them back to the beach, and he let go of her hand to examine the rubble on the other side. Sigurd, sulking like Gorm, walked over the water and grazed his fingers through it. 

Rose followed.

“The Doctor and I were talking. We both heard something,” she admitted. He nodded grimly, watching the water ripple. “We’ll figure it out, whatever it was. I promise.”

“Complete cave in. There’s no getting back in,” the Doctor called, catching up with them. “It’s going to get dark. We should go.”

Sigurd suddenly groaned. 

"What is it?” Rose asked. 

“We can’t go to the Oracle,” he whispered, running a hand across his bearded face. “Not tonight. Once the moon greets us, we must honor those who fall. They are all expecting me.”

“Then Rose and I can go,” the Doctor said, but Sigurd simply looked at him. The Doctor sighed. “Look, the way I see it, if the oracle can help, we should see her. And if you’re this concerned about death and prophecies, perhaps you should make an exception? Let Revna host the tribute.”

“I am Jarl,” he said. “I cannot do that.”

“You’re Jarl,” the Doctor corrected. “If anyone can, it’s you .”

Rose could smell the testosterone, and she stood, grabbing the Doctor’s arm and leading them away from the water (and another potential argument), but she only moved a few steps before her head began to pound, her ears began to ring, and she heard the faint cry of a wolf. 

She stumbled slightly, and the Doctor cupped her cheek, concerned. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she said, shaking it off, but she couldn’t help looking across the bay at Asgardstrand, eyeing the docks. For a moment she waited, wondering if she’d see it this time, but as quickly as it began the howling stopped, and she let out a breath, her head no longer pounding. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you hurt, saeta?” Sigurd asked. She gave him a soft smile. 

“No, really. I’m fine.”

The Doctor, however, followed her gaze over to the docks, frowning. “What did you see?”

“The village. Just thinking it would be faster to swim,” she said jokingly. “It’s right there! We should have taken a rowboat.”

“Revna would have been suspicious,” Sigurd said. “Tis an idea, if ever needed…”

“Let’s go, yeah?” she said, kissing the Doctor’s cheek, who sniffed as she hoisted her skirt and tucked the front of it into her belt as they waded through the fog, climbing back up the rocky hill.

Before she knew it, they were all trotting back through the forest whence they came in silence. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

“Can you tell us more about dwarves?” she asked when the muffled sound of hooves on snow became too mundane. Sigurd looked at her in confusion, lost in thought. 

“What was that, saeta?” 

“Dwarves,” the Doctor repeated. “What can you tell us about them?”

“I’m not sure there is much else,” he admitted. “They are from the eighth realm - Svartalfheim. They dwell in Nidavellir. They used to trade with Midgard. They no longer do. What else is there to know?”

“Were they on the Jötnar’s side? During Ragnarok?” Rose asked. Sigurd shook his head.

“No,” he explained. “Most of the realms honor and respect the Esir. Ragnarok was prophesied for many moons, but until it happened, no one knew what would cause it. Jötunheim and Jörmungandr…and Loki… They had their own agenda. Which would have been easy for the Esir to handle, except Loki’s ties to them made them formidable foes.”

“You said he was Thor’s brother, right?” Rose asked.

“ Adopted brother,” Sigurd sighed, looking up at the trees. “He looked like the Esir, who, from what legends speak, appear to be human at first glance. But he was actually Jötnar. It’s all very complicated.”

“We have time,” the Doctor muttered. “I’ve heard stories in my travels, but… well…After today, I s’pose it can’t hurt to make sure they are right.” 

“What were you told?” Sigurd asked, brushing his hand across the mane of his mare. The Doctor inhaled sharply, shrugging. 

“Odin was Thor’s father. He adopted Loki when he was a baby, raised him as his own, disguised his true parentage from him until it was time to name an heir. Then he chose Thor, and when Loki learned the truth, he hated him for it.“

“This is all true,” Sigurd admitted. “But there is more to it. Jötnar are, essentially, frost giants. They are tall and blue-skinned; like the color of ice, but they can shape shift. Loki was given a tonic by Freya, Odin’s wife and his adoptive mother, to keep his stature short and his skin pale as he grew. One day Thor learned of this and helped Loki uncover who he truly was. He did so in good faith, and for a while, all was fine… but then Loki had children. The wolf Fenrir, the goddess Hel, and the serpent Jormungandr. They put ideas into his head. Fenrir’s death was the start of Ragnarok, not that the Esir knew it at the time.” 

Rose bit her lip, a cold feeling running through her. “A…wolf?”

“Yes. His eldest and favorite. The gods often had children in various forms. Some human, some not. Thor was the one who had to kill him - Fenrir. At Odin’s command,” Sigurd explained. “It caused an unfathomable rift between the family, but Odin believed it necessary.”

“Why?”

“It was prophesied the wolf would be his undoing. In the end, it was.”

Lightning pierced the sky, followed by thunder, and they all looked up, squinting when they realized it was starting to rain. Sigurd sighed. 

“We must hurry. Gallop, now.” 

“Wait -” Rose tried to say, but Sigurd clicked his heel against his horse, and it began to run. The Doctor shared a glance with her, words teetering on his tongue he didn’t say, then did the same. 

She followed behind, eyeing the brewing storm carefully. 

“What do you mean - his undoing?” she demanded as they tried to outrun the weather. Sigurd ignored her. “What else happened?”

“Not now, saeta, we must get back before this turns to snow. We will all freeze.”

The lightning struck again, and when the horses whined in fear, they had no choice but to ride as fast as they could back to the village, not giving the creek or trees another glance. The closer they got to the shore the colder it became, and sure enough, the rain turned to snow.

Perfect and pristine, like the calm before a storm. 

By the time they got back to Asgardstrand, music was playing, and the sun had gone down. 

“Speak not of what we saw,” Sigurd instructed as he slipped off his horse. “Come.” 

“They need water,” Rose tried to say, petting her horse. Sigurd merely patted his on the back and watched it trot away. “They’re living creatures, Sigurd, they did us a favor. You can’t just leave them.”

“They’ll go back to the stables,” Sigurd told her, watching the way the Doctor smiled at her. “Let them be.”

“Where is everyone?” the Doctor asked.

“Come,” the Jarl said, gesturing toward a firepit tucked around the side of the longhouse they hadn’t noticed before. It was wide and ornate, made of stone, with idols and ancient nordic phrases carved into its side. The entire clan, now dressed in cloaks, gathered around it and despite the snow, the flames were tall and strong. Sigurd marched forward, making his rounds as needed, when Revna suddenly appeared. 

“How was it?” she asked. The Doctor cleared his throat. 

“Didn’t see much,” he lied. “No game, I’m afraid.”

“That’s alright, we have plenty,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’ll take your bows. Go gather near the others. The ceremony will begin soon.”

They did as she said, depositing their bows and arrows in her arms, and when they joined the crowd they locked with Sigurd, who looked away very quickly, not trying to ring any alarms. They said hello to a few others they recognized from the battle, and Gorm’s wife, holding Ingrid, nodded at them from across the fire. 

Gorm looked away. 

“Take one of these, drengrs,” one of the Jomsvikings whispered, handing them a flower before moving on. The Doctor sniffed it, furrowing his brow. 

“Dreamshade…” he muttered. 

“What?”

“It’s an herb,” he explained. “One with psychedelic effects.” 

“They’re giving us acid?” she asked, amused. He smiled.

“I’ve never actually dealt with it directly, but it can be used in different ways. If I remember correctly, when inhaled… yes, I s’pose it can be like taking acid. Your mind will see things in new ways. But if ingested, it works while you sleep. Gives you odd dreams.”

“Everyone has it,” she realized, looking around the circle, and the Doctor wrapped an arm around her waist, tucking his flower into his pocket. “He said this was a traditional Asgardian tribute. Why do they need this?” 

“Guess we’ll find out,” the Doctor said with a wink, and they looked at Sigurd again, who was moving toward the center of the circle next to the flames. His antlered cloak looked more regal than ever as he raised his hands above his head, quieting the clan, and the Doctor inhaled slowly, waiting to see what would happen. 

The music stopped. 

“Friends,” Sigurd began. “Tonight is a night we don’t relish, but we celebrate in honor. The gate to Valhalla is heavy, worthy, and mightily sought. To knock at its door, one must die honorably, so their soul will be greeted by the Valkyrie, who will guide it across Bifrost.”

Rose leaned closer to the Doctor. “Across what?”

“It’s a bridge,” he said in her ear. “It connects Midgard and Asgard. I s’pose that must be real, too…”

She watched him frown, but before she could say anything else, Sigurd continued. 

“The raid was particularly fraught. To enter Valhalla after such a fight is all we can ask for these lost souls. We are proud of each of them, and we shall see them again on the wings of the Valkyrie, when our destinies intertwine once more.”

One by one, he listed the names of those who died, nodding at their immediate families, who nodded back. It went on like this for a moment, and for a tribute fit for the Gods Rose thought it was rather simple, until Sigurd suddenly flipped his cloak inside out - as did every other member of the clan - and they were suddenly surrounded by a sea of color. Orange and red and purple. Some sort of powder filled the air, thrown by Revna, and humming began, slow and soft before it grew in volume, and the music picked back up. 

Everyone started to dance. 

The Doctor looked at Rose, and they tried to step away to watch, but someone grabbed their hand and brought them into the circle, forcing them to try and keep up - jumping a moment too late and turning out of sync with everyone else, and time seemed to move at a snail’s pace. A part of him felt bad for being so frustrated, but he had no idea what was going on, and at some point they were handed wine (though for the life of them they weren’t sure how it happened), and when the song ended everyone around them cried “Skål!” and drank it all in one gulp. 

With a small smirk to each other, they did the same, but it was a terrible flavor, warm and bitter, making Rose cough. 

Then, almost startlingly, everything stopped . 

Sigurd was back in the center, hands raised. 

He began to chant in an ancient language (old Norse, the Doctor knew), as everyone tossed their Dreamshade into the fire, and a purple smoke replaced the soot that was drifting into the sky, bright and vibrant and almost sparkling. It was absolutely beautiful, Rose thought, and she shared a look with the Doctor, who was keenly aware of how close Sigurd was still watching them, waiting for them to take part in the ritual.  After a moment, he sighed, tossing his flower into the mix as well. 

She did too, and the fire began to swirl and rise, taking the shape of some creature Rose had never seen before as everyone grabbed hands - some sort of warrior woman on the back of some kind of pegasus. The Doctor opened his mouth in a small smile, clearly aware of something she wasn’t, when the clan began to sing. 

“ Ooooh, hooo, ahhhhh -” 

As if preparing for battle, drums and lutes played a new song, one with more percussion and movement in the notes, and Rose held her breath, staring at the fire attentively as every sensation in her body became more prevalent. The fire looked like waves. Her vision was sharp. She could feel the music so deeply it was as if the blood swishing through her veins was moving to its tempo. It felt strange, yet good, and she gasped when the Doctor gripped her tightly to him. 

He had his trusty Time Lord sensibilities from keeping him from getting as high as she was (because that’s what she was - high ; some part of her knew that), but even he seemed affected, and they stared at each other for a moment before they looked back at the flames. 

Everything began to move. 

“Oh, my God,” Rose whispered, watching as the winged horse and warrior woman rose up to stars, then danced across the clan, fire bouncing above their heads in a way that simply shouldn’t be possible and probably wasn’t actually happening, but it felt real, and she was awestruck, finding it all breathtaking even if she didn’t understand it. 

The Doctor, however, stiffened beside her. 

The music swelled, the figure kept moving, and it ended slowly, peacefully - with grace and poise and respect. The families of those who were lost all nodded at one another, not one person shedding a tear, and Revna opened the doors to the longhouse, where the smell of mutton wafted around them. 

“Come now,” Sigurd said. “May we celebrate their memory. Skål!”

They were the last to move, but they managed, finding a seat in the corner away from the crowd. As mead was poured into glasses and food guzzled into mouths, they both closed their eyes, the sensations they were both feeling much too strong to even consider eating. 

For some reason, Rose remembered the scroll in her belt, and she pulled it out, staring at it. 

She felt his lips brush against her shoulder. 

“Whatcha got?”

“You tell me,” she murmured. “You were looking at it. Thought there was a reason so I took it.”

His brow furrowed, but his lips found her shoulder again (and again), and it sent a shiver through her spine before he took the scroll into his hands and tried to make sense of it. After a moment, he sighed. 

“The TARDIS doesn’t even know this language,” he admitted. “I certainly don’t. You took this when the sky was falling?”

“The cave,” she said with a small smile. “Yeah. The Jötnar must have touched it or something. I dunno, I just sort of felt like -” 

“....what?”

She bit her lip, tucking her hand into his hair for a moment as she turned to face him, laughing when she saw how incredulously he was staring at her. “The dust, silly.” 

His brow furrowed yet again, and he shook his head. “You’re inebriated.”

“Doctor, it’s right there.”

“I am, too. Who would have thought a bit of Dreamshade could make me feel…well… Point is our brains are fixating on what we’ve been thinking about. For you, it’s this bit with the Jötnar. For me, it’s you.”

Heat, despite the snow outside, flooded through her. He smiled. 

“I’ve never seen you like… this,” he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Gorgeous.”

“What?”

“Come here,” he urged, pulling her into a kiss, which was open and mouthed and wet immediately. She slipped the scroll back into her belt so she could cup his cheek, and she was seconds away from either climbing into his lap or being placed there by him, she was certain, when they suddenly heard someone clear their throat above them. 

Gorm. 

“You can do that away from my clan,” he spat, glaring at them when they broke apart with a small ‘pop’. The Doctor sighed. 

“What are you afraid of?” he asked pointedly. “Honestly, what?”

“Just take that elsewhere,” he snarled, and Rose let her tongue trace her lips in amusement and embarrassment when he placed his hand on his ax as he walked away. The Doctor chuckled. 

“Can’t help myself,” he groaned as he kissed her again, and she wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him a little closer. She still felt the Dreamshade working its way through her system, and she snogged him senseless for several minutes until her libido felt somewhat satiated, but when her stomach growled he stopped. 

He was sobering up rather quickly, and he gave her a small smile. 

“You need food.”

“Not hungry for food.”

“You still need it,” he flirted, standing up, and she sighed as she took his hand and let him guide her to a table, where she devoured the mutton and vegetables like it was her last meal. Over the next couple of hours, stories were shared of the fallen. Drinks were taken in their memory. More music and dancing took place, and Rose felt the Dreamshade dissipate. 

When it was clear the families were ready to go home, a traditional Nordic chant began, the same as the first feast they attended - the lullaby about Thor. 

“Ooooh, ohhhh, mmmm….Hooooo, ohhhh -” 

“Look at the fire,” Rose said in the Doctor’s ear, who was gnawing on a bit of bread. He did, the harmonies starting as the intensity rose, and at the trill of the final note, she saw it. 

A wolf rising from the flames, jaw open, as if it was screaming. The strike of what seemed to be lightning, silencing it forever. 

Rose dropped her goblet. 

Everyone turned to stare. 

“S-sorry…” she stammered, quickly picking it up. The Doctor touched her back. 

“Rose…”

“The fire…it…does it always do that?” 

“Do what, drengr?” one of the Jomsvikings asked, and the Doctor, who was giving her a look she was pretending she didn’t see - one full of clenched jaws and a stark focus she knew meant he was worried - smiled. 

“Tonight was our first time using Dreamshade,” he said, rubbing her back. “I think maybe you’re still feeling it?”

“I…No, I…” she began, but there was a warning in his eyes that made her mouth go dry, and she nodded. “Yeah, probably. I thought it was moving.”

“Ah!” Sigurd exclaimed. “Definitely Dreamshade. You two best sleep it off. Come meet tomorrow, though. There is more of Asgardstrand to see.”

“Great!” the Doctor said a little too cheerfully, quickly grabbing Rose and looping his arm around her waist, escorting her toward the door. Before they exited however, she stopped.

“The ritual,” she said, looking at the clan. “It was lovely.”

They all nodded, but no one spoke, and the Doctor said something about ‘appreciating getting to see it’ before he quickly had Rose out in the snow, and the minute they were alone, he let her go. 

“It was a wolf. And lightning,” she said. He clenched his jaw, looking up at the falling snow. 

“Come on.”

“Why did no one else see it?”

He said nothing.

“The dust,” she added, grabbing the scroll. “Tell me it’s there. Tell me you can see it.”

He swallowed. “There’s nothing but ink. And words I don’t know.”

“No! There is blue dust. It’s right there!!”

“Shhh,” he whispered, glancing at the longhouse. “If anyone hears you -”

“You really can’t see it?!”

“ We have to go. Before I need to warm you up again. Which I’m not opposed to doing, but I’d rather not risk losing you again, if you don’t mind.”

“Doctor -”

“I can’t see it, no,” he repeated calmly, but she could see his concern in his eyes, and it made her feel worse. “I'll look at it more, maybe I'm missing something. Will you just come on ?”

“....fine.”

“Thank you.”

Silently, they walked hand in hand toward the guest house. 

(His hearts were racing.)

Chapter Text

By the time they’d made it halfway, the cold tingle in her toes was not nearly as chilling as his silence. 

He was predictably unreadable. Looking straight ahead, every once in a while glancing back at the lanterns that illuminated their path as if he was trying to make sure they weren’t being followed. It made her glance too, her thoughts still pinned on flames and dust, wondering what he wasn’t telling her. What he might suspect. What he was thinking and why. 

She kept glancing at him, hoping he might flitter his eyes to hers and see her alarm, but he never did. And that left her no choice but to stop in her tracks so firmly she almost made him stumble. 

Their clasped hands broke. 

“You really didn’t see the fire move?”

He sighed. 

“Let’s go before you get cold.”

“I’m fine. Just answer the question.”

At the narrowing of his eyes, she grew more nervous, because he was the Doctor. The man she loved, whose calamity could ease a storm as quickly as a look could cause it, and the time for blatant deflection had long passed when it came to her. Too much had changed. Crossing universes and sharing beds does that to a relationship she supposed, and honest to every deity she knew he didn’t believe in, she didn’t understand why he was suddenly so…cautious. Three hours ago he was snogging her senselessly. All that changed was the song and the fire. He still hadn’t told her whether or not he saw anything too, but he must have. He had to have had, and the only explanation is that whatever he’d seen was alarming to him. Because if there was nothing to be worried about, he’d tell her. He’d ramble - offering a million and one scenarios on his quest for an explanation, but in this snow he’d be smiling at her, delighted by this unexplainable turn of events. 

She held her breath, waiting for him to do that. To break. To unleash the chipper, the musing, the thirst to know more with the confidence they would. The scanning and learning and bantering. 

Instead, he was silent. 

She knew all too well what that meant. And it wasn’t going to work. Not this time. 

This time, they had to talk. 

“Look at me?” she asked, and he did. “I thought I saw something in the fire before, on our first night, during that song. That’s why I told you to watch. You saw it, right?”

“Rose…”

“Why didn’t anyone else?”

“No one else was watching.”

“You were.” 

He visibly tensed, which only made the feeling in her gut worse, because he’d still not said yes. 

But then, as if some switch in his very large mind shifted, he suddenly smiled his signature smile, and despite the thoughts swirling through her mind, a small bit of arousal and relief flooded through her. 

Any other night she’d laugh at that, but he took a step forward, cupping her cheek, darting his gaze over her slowly, and it made her unable to do anything but stare at him.

“Describe it. In detail.”

“You saw it, you describe it,” she said flatly, not hiding her annoyance. But when he swallowed, her brow fell in understanding.  “You… you didn’t see it?”

“Just tell me what you saw.”

Her lip fell between her teeth, heart racing. “It… I dunno. When they started the song the fire just moved differently. Like a ripple. The more voices that sang the stronger it became, until it was like a swirl or something. Then on the last note, that changed, and it’s what I’ve already said.”

“A wolf and lightning.”

“A wolf getting struck by lightning.”

“Exactly,” he croaked, smiling a little more. “It’s a song about Thor, right? Sigurd just told us the story of when he killed Loki’s wolf. You think you saw one on the beach yesterday - a wolf. It was more than likely the Dreamshade, fabricating what your mind was fixated on. Like it did before -”

“It wasn’t .”

“It’s entirely possible it was. It's a new substance to both of us. We don’t know the effects of it - how long it actually lasts. You might feel fine after a while. Sober, even, but your synapses could still be firing at a -” 

“I don’t need a lecture about synapses !” she spat, pulling away from him. “I need you to listen to me!”

She grabbed the scroll again and opened it, pointing to a spot in the middle. 

“Rose…”

“The dust sparkles a bit. Blue, like Sigurd said it would be. Small particles, fragile looking, like they might blow away at any second but they don’t move. They’re right there.”

He shut his eyes so tightly she almost slapped him to get him to look at her. 

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“I… do ,” he muttered, jaw clenched, and when he spoke next, she felt it - a small bit of his concern, and it snapped something inside of her. “You’re all I’ve ever believed in… That’s the problem.”

That admission, while new, wasn’t as shocking these days, but it still knocked the wind out of her. 

“...what does that mean?” 

“Let’s go inside,” he insisted. “ Please, Rose .”

She wanted to say no. To demand they keep trying to figure this out. To ask him exactly what was making him so uncomfortable and show him the bit of hammer still lodged in her shoe (because she still had that, she just remembered), but she felt her toes go numb, and she knew they couldn’t stay in the snow. 

Wind rustled the trees. 

“Fine.”

A small smirk greeted her as he slipped his hand into hers once more. “Fine.”

When they got to the house, however, their hope of warmth vanished. 

Sigurd was waiting for them with one leg crossed in front of the other, leaning against the door. His face looked somber, and his cloak of antlers had been replaced with one made of snakeskin. His broken finger was now wrapped, something they were sure Revna had something to do with, and for a moment Rose wondered if he’d finally told her a bit of the truth. 

If he had, now wasn’t the time to ask. There was something about him that felt charged, and his eyes followed them as they approached.

The Doctor frowned. 

“How did you get here before us?”

“I live here. I know the shortcuts.” Rose let go of the Doctor’s hand, who rolled his eyes and tried to open the door. “I thought we all did rather well tonight, not raising suspicion. The clan needed that. It was a lovely ritual. I was touched that you participated. I know I said we’d meet tomorrow, but there is much to discuss. The sooner, the better.”

“What do you want?” the Doctor sighed. Sigurd swallowed, his eyes falling on Rose in a way that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle in protection, and his frown deepened. “Sigurd, speak. Why are you here?”

“You said you saw the flames move, saeta,” he began. Rose stayed silent, and Sigurd stepped away from the door, looking at her intently. “Tell me what you saw.”

“She’s exhausted,” the Doctor interjected. “Like I said, it was our first experience with -”

“There wasn’t enough Dreamshade in the air for her to feel the effects by the time that lullaby was sung. I only said there was to buy us some time. But the herb is only meant to last as long as the ceremony, perhaps a few minutes longer.”

“Why do you use it?” Rose asked. The Doctor opened his mouth to protest, but Sigurd jumped in quickly, answering her question as if it fueled something inside of him.

“The Ritual is called the Esir’s Blessing. Dreamshade allows us to see into the consciousness of Eir so that we might watch the Valkyrie guide our fallen home. It is a sacred, honored tradition.” 

“That’s what we saw in the vision? Those women on those horse things are called Valkyrie? They were guiding the souls?” Rose asked. Sigurd nodded. “Who is Eir?”

“The Goddess of Healing, very powerful,” he explained with a small smile. “You are intuitive, drengr. Not many outsiders would understand our customs so easily. Your travels have aided you well.” He shared a glance with the Doctor, who swallowed. “Please. Tell me what you saw?”

“Why?” the Doctor demanded, his hand still on the door, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter by the second. Rose gave him a look. “Why does it matter?”

“Because seeing images in fire is a rare gift, one only the giants of Muspelheim possess,” Sigurd said slowly. “She should not be able to do it.”

The Doctor pushed the door open, his storm (and anger) starting to radiate off of him, but Rose walked over to him and slammed it shut. 

“What is wrong with you?” she snapped. “Something is going on, we have to -”

“We don’t have to do anything . I’m trying to decide if we should.”

“They need us! You saw what happened today -” 

“Yes, and we barely survived,” he growled. Rose gave him a careful look, because how was that fact different from any other trip they’d ever taken? They were always, together or apart, nearly dying. They were fine. He made it sound compelling to Sigurd, though, who sighed and nodded, but she found herself watching the pulse of his neck and the tenseness in his shoulders, for they told her what she already knew. 

There was something he wasn’t saying. 

“Doctor…”

“I know you love her,” Sigurd interrupted, the word falling from his lips so nonchalantly Rose expected the Doctor to grow so rigid he might as well be made of the ice they were surrounded by. But instead, he stood there entirely un-phased, letting the word fill the air and settle, not bothering to try and change the subject. He even smirked every so slightly, his fingers nearly squeezing hers, and that sent a blush to Rose’s cheeks that made her worthy of her name. 

He cleared his throat in the way she would have expected, but when he glanced at her, his eyes were warm. She felt her tongue dart out and brush her lips in a smile. Everywhere he touched her tingled. Her heart beat against her ribs. 

And when he swallowed hard, his attention solely on her lips, she knew. 

(She always knew.)

(Hell, even the Daleks knew, so very long ago.)

Even still, the reply teetered on her tongue, desperate for release the same way they had been in a Norway a universe away, but he broke the spell and turned to glare at Sigurd again.

“I do not know what is going on, but I fear it may not be as simple as it was to leave,” the Jarl whispered. “If she can see fire move, then its possible the Esir are at work. It’s possible this is more than we think. And that’s something worth asking the Oracle about, is it not?”

“What do you mean the Esir are at work?” the Doctor asked darkly. Sigurd held up his hands in defense. 

“The Oracle can say, I am merely speculating a concern,” he whispered. “What I know, is we must act now.”

“That’s why you’re here, then?” the Doctor growled. “To escort us off?”

“If I am, will you come?” he asked, then looked at Rose. “The longer we wait, the more danger my clan is in. We need answers. You need answers.”

Distantly, chillingly, she heard the faint cry of a wolf. 

Without even glancing at the Doctor, she nodded. 

Sigurd let out an audible sigh of relief, holding up two large cloaks wrapped in twine. 

“Good. Then here. I have these for you. They are much warmer. It's rather cold out tonight. You should wear the hood up to hide your face. Just in case.”

“What’s so bad about if we’re seen?” Rose asked, taking a cloak from him and slipping it over her dress. The Doctor glared, but Sigurd just carried on. 

“You are outsiders,” he said. “It is not customary for strangers to visit the Oracle. With everything going on…If anyone saw…” 

“They’d assume what?” the Doctor said flatly, but Sigurd forced him to take the other cloak. 

He held it, watching Rose with a frown as she re-tucked her ax into her belt.

“Put the cloak on, Doctor. We need to get there before the sun rises,” Sigurd murmured. “I expect she knows we are coming. Stay alert.” 

Rose squeezed the Doctor’s arm as he scowled. “Allons-y.” 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

Their footprints stained the snow. 

The grain farms that marked the Oracle’s house were away from the beach and back toward rolling hills covered in snow and pine. Even in darkness, the forest stretched for miles, and the air was a perfect mix of oak and sea salt. Only the moon lit their path. Occasionally, they spotted a few animals, though they all scurried away before they could get a proper look. 

The Doctor watched the stars. 

Rose watched him. 

Neither spoke. 

It began to snow again when they passed a frozen creek, and Sigurd wordlessly took the lead, guiding them past wooden carvings of Odin and Freya made out of tree stumps. In daylight, Rose knew the Doctor would want to marvel at them - critique and appreciate the craftsmanship and probably babble on about something or other, but it didn’t happen that night. They just walked, and walked, until they eventually left the farms behind and found themselves standing in front of a dimly lit cottage. 

To their complete surprise, Gorm stood outside, chopping wood. 

“Jarl,” he snapped, dropping his ax. Sigurd smiled, ready to clap him in a hug, but Gorm brushed him off and pointed his meaty finger at the two time travelers with a scowl. “What are they doing here? I told you to come alone.”

The Doctor, who was already on the verge of screaming, felt something snap. “Sorry, what ?”

“They want to help, brother,” Sigurd pleaded. “It’s alright.”

“ No -” 

The Doctor pushed the finger away, but Sigurd gave him a look that seemed to say let me handle this, and he tightened his jaw as Rose pulled him closer. 

“They asked to speak to her, and I think they should,” Sigurd whispered. “Don’t give me that look. You would have said no, had I suggested it before.”

“Then I will do so now. What have you told them?” Gorm hissed in anger. 

“You must lessen your distrust, brother. They have done nothing but aid us.”

“They are -”

“Enough. I am the Jarl. Let us through.”

Gorm inhaled slowly, his nostrils flaring, but after a moment where Rose wasn’t sure they’d be able to walk away without drawing their axes, he stepped aside and allowed Sigurd to open the door, sulking as the Doctor and Rose walked past, not even trying to look at them. 

As soon as they crossed the threshold, he slammed the door shut with such force it rocked the house. 

“You live here?” Rose asked, but Gorm stayed quiet and pressed his back against the wall. She looked around. It was a modest home with modest furnishings. A pot hung in a stone fireplace, and Rose noticed what appeared to be children’s toys on the ground. Immediately, she thought of Ingrid, and her heartbeat quickened, suddenly starting to suspect who this Oracle was. 

She turned to the Doctor, but he was one step ahead of her, already looking at the stairs, where a woman with long blonde hair was holding Ingrid on her hip. Gorm’s wife, whose eyes they were just now noticing were a vibrant shade of blue, and she set the girl down with a kiss to her head before telling her to go back to her room. Sigurd nodded at her. 

“Astrid, saeta,” he began. “It is good to see you. This is -” 

“The Doctor and Rose Tyler,” Astrid said knowingly, her voice hauntingly calm. Gorm stiffened near the door. “Of course. Welcome. Gorm, my love, I think they might like some wine. Have you offered them any?”

“Astrid…”

“ Wine , please, Gorm,” she said slowly, and the Doctor watched him begrudgingly walk to a cupboard and pull out some kind of 9th century decanter, pouring each of them a glass. “Please sit. Warm yourselves. I’ve been expecting you.”

Rose followed the Doctor to a wooden bench by the window as Gorm handed them their wine without a word, but neither took a sip, waiting to see what was going to happen next. Sigurd stayed near the door, tracing Nordic symbols into the snow on the ground with his feet.

It was odd, seeing him so quiet when he was so adamant they came, and the Doctor watched him carefully. 

“You should have told me you were expecting them. Both of you,” Gorm hissed to Astrid, who merely held her hand up and looked at Rose, then the Doctor. She glided over to them, sitting on an ottoman near their feet. 

“My husband does not like you,” she chuckled. “He’s been telling me so since my daughter gave you a fish.”

“Why did she do that?” the Doctor asked. Astrid nodded. 

“I told her about the Jötnar’s customs,” she said. “Legend says if they come to claim your life, you may offer them a gift in exchange. If they like it, they will spare you. She thought your blue ship was the gate to their realm. She thought the fish would help. Jötnar, according to the legends, love deep-sea fishing. Charming, almost, even if it does break my heart.”

“You’re the oracle?” Rose asked. Astrid nodded. 

“We call ourselves Seers, but yes,” she said. “Each clan has one. My mother was the one before me. Her mother before her. So on and so forth as far back as Ragnarok. It was a gift we were born with. Our ancestors are not from Midgard.” She stopped, observing them. “Much like you, Doctor.”

Sigurd looked at him in surprise, but the Doctor, despite himself, sat up straighter.

(Gorm, however, was practically red in the face.)

“What else can you see?” the Doctor asked curiously, with the kind of intrigue that told Rose he was impressed. Astrid studied him for a moment. 

“You once had an affinity for leather.”

“He did, yeah,” Rose murmured, smiling. The corners of the Doctor’s mouth twitched, watching as Astrid looked at Rose, studying her intensely. 

“You enjoy something called…chips.”

“Oh, she loves them,” he added. Gorm suddenly groaned. 

“I do not see the point in telling them anything! They are outsiders, Astrid!”

“Husband, I knew they were going to come seek me from the moment I laid eyes on them,” Astrid said cooly. “When you had your ax pressed against his neck. You are too rash. I am prepared for this. If you do not accept that, then go upstairs with Ingrid.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you would do this.”

The Doctor and Rose glanced at each other, smiling softly at the domestic banter. Gorm sighed. 

“They are not one of us, Astrid…”

“They can help.”

Those three words shifted the tone of the room in a palpable way, and it was so visceral that Rose nearly gasped. It was a pin drop, a definitive truth, and the Doctor sat up even straighter, his hearts pounding as much as his instincts were stirring, watching Astrid as she stood and walked to a shelf with vials and plants. She brought some back with her as she sat down on the ottoman again, and she shared a look with Sigurd, who nodded. 

“A Seer’s job is to prepare the clan for what’s to come,” she whispered. “We are not storytellers. We are not prophets. We sit in the ear of the Esir.”

“The Gods speak to you?” the Doctor asked. She nodded. 

“When they must. They tell us what we ought to share, and what we should not,” she explained as she crumbled leaves into one of the vials. It began to glow with a soft purple hue, and they both realized it was Dreamshade as she drank it. Gorm closed his eyes. “Since I gave birth to Ingrid, they have been quiet. But they spoke to me a fortnight ago. After members of our clan were sent to look for supplies and never returned.” 

“That’s when you saw the Jötnar?” the Doctor asked Sigurd, who nodded. “He said you were told something about death?”

“Shhh,” Astrid ordered, holding up her hand. “Wait.”

The Doctor opened his mouth to ask her to just tell them what was going on, but she began to chant. 

Instantly, that palpable feeling shifted again into something tangible and raw, something that nestled in the space between his hearts and tugged, ricocheting through him and causing a sea of uneasiness. Perhaps it was the threat of nausea he felt every time he thought of the metallic taste of time on his tongue, but as the leaves began to swirl in the air, he found himself tucking Rose behind him, shielding her from whatever images were starting to appear. 

She pushed herself aside, giving him a look he chose to ignore just as the leaves took the shape of a door, oval-shaped and large. The Doctor’s brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, looking at it all cautiously.

“Death,” she began, her voice more haunting than before. “It is approaching.”

All the windows slammed shut, and the fire went out. The image of the door transformed into the sun, then what seemed to be the moon, and Astrid continued, her fingers trembling. 

“When the sun devours the moon, the door, blue of nature, will reveal what’s untold. When the Jötnar cries and the mad beast roars, the thunder will strike. They will howl. It will begin.”

Briefly, as the leaves shook and swirled around them, Rose swore they formed the shape of a wolf, but they fell to the floor before she could say for sure. Astrid then opened her eyes, gazing at them in a way that sent a chill through their spines, and with the same haunted voice, turned to Gorm and Sigurd. 

“I must speak to them alone now.”

“Astrid -” Gorm said warningly, but Sigurd grabbed his arm and pulled him out the front door, letting it slam shut once more. The Seer’s blue eyes were watering, and Rose felt like her heart was about to jump out of her chest. Nervously, she gripped the Doctor’s hand, squeezing it until her knuckles turned white.

“You have seen darkness before,” she whispered hurriedly. 

“Why?” the Doctor asked. Astrid just looked at him. 

“You know pain,” she said, startled. “You have lost something great. Something you had to lose…Something you sacrificed.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed.  

“You lost her once, too… You watch her sleep. Count her breaths. Memorize her face when she is reading. You still feel it. Is this why you look at me with such hesitance?” He frowned. She then looked at Rose. “You have fought for him in ways I sense are admirable, but you are harder to read, drengr. Give me a moment.”

“I am?” Rose asked. 

Astrid, instead, took the Doctor’s hand, patting it once. “Calm the storm. You will know what to do when the time is right.”

He stared at her with a stone expression. She closed her eyes. 

“I cannot read you, Rose… ” she hissed. “The Esir do not want me to see.”

“See what ?” the Doctor snapped. 

“I do not know. All I see is… a key…” she murmured, then slowly opened her eyes, staring at Rose thoughtfully. 

“What else do you see?” the Doctor asked seriously, unable to calm the winds of his storm (as she not-so-delicately told him to), and they radiated off of him like a tidal wave drowning the damned. “Tell me.”

“You’ve doubted all of this, Doctor, in the past. Our legends. Our history. The Esir saw your once-guarded reservations. Come.” She held out her hand, which he didn’t take. Frowning, she closed her eyes. “The Realms are as real as Gallifrey once was. Closed off to us. Sealed. The key opens them.”

He nearly stumbled into the wall. 

Even Rose seemed taken aback at the sound of his home planet leaving this stranger's lips so casually. She glanced at him, but he remained focused on the storm, not showing any ounce of weakness as Astrid opened her eyes and darted her eyes across his face. “The pain…”

“What do they want with Rose?”

“You are a man of many faces,” she said. “You wear this one proudly. More proudly than the others. Do not let that distract you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She then looked at Rose. “Trust that the Esir will show you what I cannot. When you are ready for it, it will reveal itself to you. They are there, watching.”

Rose blinked. “...the Gods are watching me? ” 

“They watch all of us,” Astrid sighed. “But… I sense they pay special attention to you. There is something about you they admire. Something of the Wolf…”

That sentence shattered the remainder of the Doctor’s patience, and he glared at Astrid in a way that made her cower. 

“ Where did you hear that?”

“It is what the Esir see. Does it mean something to you?”

“No,” he lied. Rose squeezed his hand. 

“Doctor -” 

“We deserve to know,” he snapped, not looking at his better half as she tried to get his attention. He just continued to glare at Astrid. “If we do this, if we continue on this blind quest to help or whatever it is you think we need to do…Will anything happen to her?”

“I do not know,” Astrid admitted, studying him. “But one thing is certain. Without her, without both of you, the world will end.” 

He laughed dryly, running his hand across his face in disbelief, and Rose bit her lip. 

“So..not great news, then,” she whispered. “How exactly?”

“They will not show me in detail,” she whispered. “But heed the prophecy. And stop it.”

The Doctor sat down, his face tucked in his hands, and Rose nibbled on her lip. Astrid returned to the ottoman, her eyes glued to Rose’s face in thought. “Wolves mean a great deal in our histories. At the birth of the stars, Odin was accompanied by them. They were his companions. He traveled with them. Before Fenrir…Before Ragnarok, he was always fond of them. They can be chaotic and evil, or brave and loyal. It depends on how one views them.” 

All Rose could muster was a soft “okay.”

“I’m going for a walk,” the Doctor muttered, and before anyone could stop him, he was pushing himself out the front door, bumping into Gorm with a fury as he didn’t bother to hide. Something about him must have been truly frightening, because for the first time since they arrived, Gorm stayed silent. 

The Doctor walked until he found an untouched spot of snow in the forest, the house still in sight, and collapsed. 

The taste of time still lingered on his tongue, and he closed his eyes.

The world will end.

Time… 

This was all bigger than he imagined. This was dangerous. This was fire playing with things it shouldn’t. It could kill them. 

Kill her.

And they’d only just started.

Bloody fucking Norway. 

Typical, ignorant, cursed Time Lord luck. Of course. It was so unfair; to have the Time War bring him to her, to be torn apart and brought together, to fall in love, to explore that love (even if still unsaid), to let touches and snogs heal the heartache of voids and walls with a glimmer of hope, to be given time alone , only to have it all fall as quickly as she once had. His eyes traced the outline of several stars - places he hadn’t taken her to yet, places he knew she’d love, places they could make love, and he felt a part of him snap. How utterly ruined (or perhaps made better ) he was by the love she’d given him, because for a second, for one shining moment, his mind dared to think what he knew it shouldn’t. 

No.

An overwhelming urge to be selfish for once in his very long life gripped him. To grab her, kiss her, halloo her name in sighs and moans right there on the snow, then hold her and run to the TARDIS. To the stars. To safety. It gripped his chest until he could no longer breathe. His respiratory bypass was useless, and he felt so stupid for allowing himself to believe the worst was behind them that he felt sick. 

Hadn’t they earned the right to be selfish? Didn’t they sacrifice enough? Couldn’t he let all of this play out as it would, and let history be damned?

No, a northern, calmer voice in his head bellowed. He couldn’t. 

They couldn’t. 

There was nowhere to run. 

Time wouldn’t allow it. He knew with every word Astrid spoke that somehow, by coming here, they’d cemented themselves to whatever events were to occur. They changed the timeline. They created some sort of fixed point they had to see through. He had tasted it on that small piece of metal, could taste it now. Sensed it when they were watching the ritual unfold last night. As much as he told himself Astrid was lying, he knew she wasn’t. 

There was nowhere to run, but through . 

What was true remained as it always was and evidently always would be. They were the Doctor and Rose Tyler. The Stuff of Legend (for legend’s sake), and they would have to be brave and clever. Do the impossible or die trying. 

But it wasn’t fair. 

And he was angry. 

“Hey -” 

Her voice sent a shockwave through his system, and he jumped up, unable to look at her as she reached out and tried to take his hand. 

“Not now, Rose.” 

“You ran off,” she scolded. “You promised not to do that.”

“I think this is a reasonable exception,” he grumbled. Rose played with her earring, sighing. 

“She said we can help. That’s the part I care about.”

“She said more than that.”

“So? People are always saying things. We literally just stopped the end of the world. We’ve done that a few times, you and me.” she touched his arm, tongue in cheek. “Not to mention all the times we’ve done that apart from each other. All that doesn’t scare me. What scares me is you thinking we can’t do anything ever if I get hurt.”

“What?”

“What was that in there?!” she barked. “She told you all these things, things she couldn’t possibly have known, things that make it sound like whatever is going on is up to us to stop, and you walked away. Why? Because there is a chance something might happen to me?”

“That’s bad?”

“Yes!” she shouted. He scoffed. “You can’t decide when I can and can’t handle something. I’m not nineteen anymore. We’re together. You and me. That’s never changing, and we’re going to run into trouble.”

“Rose -”

“Shut it. Listen as if your ears are still as large as they were when we met, yeah?”

“Rude.”

“Shut up,” she repeated, caressing his cheek as she kissed him. He sighed into it. “I came back because I wanted to. Because I missed you. Because I made my choice a long time ago, and I meant it. I wanted this - wanted you. And I know what that meant, how dangerous this can all be sometimes. I don’t care.”

“I do.”

“How is this different from anything else we’ve faced? The Beast said I was going to die and I didn’t.” He pulled back, his face pained. “Doctor, stop pushing me away and let me in, tell me what you’re –”

“I LOST YOU!” 

The sound of his voice echoed through the trees, sending a flock of birds into the sky. 

And she understood.  

He shook his head, slamming his eyes shut. 

“It’s not worth the risk.”

“That’s what Mickey said about the dimension cannon at first.”

His jaw clenched so hard, she could hear his teeth grinding. “This is different.”

“No, it isn’t. There is a problem. We have to solve it.”

He swallowed, knowing he had no choice but to say it. To make her understand. He glanced over her shoulder at the house, eyeing Sigurd and Gorm, who seemed to be waiting in anticipation for their return as Astrid calmly told them it was alright. At least, that’s what they assumed she was saying, given her stature and poise, and he grabbed Rose’s hand and tugged her farther into the trees, out of sight entirely. 

“That bit of Thor’s hammer,” he said in her ear, the sound of his voice tingling through her. “It was infused with time particles. I can still taste them.”

She pulled back, eyeing his freckles in the moonlight. “What?”

“The Esir have access to it.”

“To what?”

“The Vortex,” he explained. “They can…see it. Touch it. Use it. Apparently, bottle it as paint. And we just found out they’re watching you.”

Understanding washed through her, and they locked eyes. “Bad Wolf...”

He sighed. She waited. “I am not ashamed to admit I don’t want you near it, Rose. Not again. No matter how incredible you will be, because you will, I’m sure… I don’t want you near it ,” he urged, cupping her cheek. “Is that really so bad?”

“No,” she whispered, her breath touching his skin, and he shuddered. “But… I think I already am.”

He stiffened. 

“So we have to stay.”

“I know,” he admitted, watching as she tried to pull away and kneel down, her face right as his waist. Despite the heaviness in the air, a filthy smile crossed his lips.

But she pulled out the bit of hammer, then held it up. 

His smile fell. 

“Rose....you didn’t.”

She shrugged, waiting for him to take it. He did gingerly. 

“This was in your shoe.” 

“Yeah, and it’s not the least bit comfy, so I think you owe me a foot rub,” she flirted, but a flicker of something darkened his eyes, and she bit her lip. “Was I really supposed to just leave it?”

“It could have exploded. In your shoe. ”

“It stopped glowing. Point is, now we have it,” she said, ignoring the look he was giving her. “I didn’t know about the Vortex stuff, but now you can examine it. See what the TARDIS thinks. Understand it. Isn’t that good?”

He tightened his grip around the metal, shaking his head at her incredulously, even as the faintest of smiles tugged at his lips. “And you wonder why I have things like the Oil of Serenity in my back pocket.”

She smiled. “Bad Wolf led me back to you, you know. Twice.”

He stared at her, then leaned in and pressed his lips to hers so slowly it made the taste of time on his tongue nearly stand still. A soft hand caressed the back of his head, and suddenly he had her pressed against him, bodies taut and hot amidst the cold snow. 

“ Doct -”

He snogged her deeper, tongues meeting, wet with intent. 

The stupid cloak Sigurd forced him to wear was ripped off as he threw it on the ground, then, as she giggled slightly, he pulled her onto it, pressing the shape of their bodies into the white abyss that surrounded them. Their eyes locked. 

Moonlight danced on her cheeks, silver and shining. 

And despite the weight of the night, she had never looked more perfect. 

“I…” he started to say, but the words choked his throat, and when he closed his eyes in frustration, she cupped his cheek, smiling the smile that made him burn a sun. 

“I know.”

And with a saucy grin, he slipped his hand under her skirt, groaning as she gasped and clutched his shoulder. Nimble fingers found their way to her legs, teasing and squeezing before they melted into her heat, and he kissed her neck, moaning her name into her skin. 

“You are not going anywhere,” he growled. “If they try, they’ll have to go through me.”

The Gods, he thought, could look. But not touch.

He scraped his nail into her thigh. 

With a cry, she reached for his hips, tugging at the tunic, wanting more. But he stayed focused on her, waiting until he felt her explode around his fingers before he allowed their bodies to touch. But soon they were grinding, swaying, half-naked in the snow but the furthest thing from cold, as he slid into her over and over and over, desperately trying to keep her safe. 

Golden eyes watched from the brush, but never appeared. 

“You clever thing,” he panted. “Oh, Rose. Oh, yes.”

“ Fuu-” she gasped when he thrusted again, her voice crackly and needy and sending a shock through him, and she let go, shuddering beneath him. He moaned, kissed her, and rode his own release until he felt almost every ounce of panic slip away. 

As the sounds of their love-making settled, the eyes vanished.

He looked at her. 

“Will you promise me something?” he asked. She nodded. “We’ll stay. We’ll stop the prophecy - fine. We can figure it out and do that. But I need you to be careful.”

“I will be –”

“Rose,” he said seriously. “I need you to be . Because we also need to get the essence of time out of the Esir’s hands.” 

She stared at him. He swallowed.

“This is bigger than even they realize - Sigurd and Astrid and the entire clan. They think their Gods are protectors, and maybe they are, but the last thing we need is for them to misunderstand how time works and for this to turn into war,” he whispered. “I’ve ended one Time War. I refuse to start another. Especially against a race I thought was myth. They shouldn’t have access to it. I need to know how. Because it’s too dangerous to be in anyone’s hands but mine. And even then, I am still bound by its laws.”

She kissed him. 

“I promise. I swear. I’ll be safe,” she whispered. “If you’ll be.”

He gave her a small smile, his eyes darting up to the stars. “Deal.”

Chapter Text

Astrid, when they finally re-entered the house, had tea ready for them. 

A bottle of crushed Dreamshade sat beside it. 

If their snowy tumble was obvious, no one said a word. Sigurd and Gorm had gone inside and were near the stairs, ready for an update, but the Doctor only gave them half a glance before following Rose back to the bench. Gorm’s glowering, at least, finally made sense. His wife could speak to the Gods. Their arrival scared him, confirmed that her visions were a decree, and while he didn’t know a lot about this type of seer, he was certain the position came with…risks. He almost felt sorry for him; the warrior who knew what was at stake, who was a part of Sigurd’s trusted circle, and was so obviously left out when he shouldn’t be. It was no wonder he was slow to trust, so cautious. 

Sigurd’s newfound concern, however...

 The Doctor didn’t quite know what to make of it. Not yet. 

“Thank you,” Rose murmured as she took her tea, and Astrid nodded slowly, her hands clasped in her lap. She stayed quiet, waiting for the Doctor to speak. He, however, ignored his tea, staring at her as tension filled the space between them. Two telepathic beings able to sense each other’s thoughts. Him, uncertainty. Her, anxiety. 

There was nowhere to run, but through . 

“What is our first step?”

Relief - that was the look in her eye. Utter relief.  

“You will help?” 

“Well,” he croaked, a small half-smile on his face he didn’t really mean. “Can’t have the end of the world on our shoulders. That’s nasty business.”

Astrid glanced at Gorm, who seemed to have nearly folded into himself. “You do have experience.”

Something in Sigurd’s stance told the Doctor he didn’t like what that implied, but he kept his focus on Astrid. 

“What is the first step?” he repeated. “What, exactly, does the prophecy mean? Who is the mad beast?”

“I do not know.”

A frown. “Which door is ‘blue of nature’? The one to Jotunheim?”

“Yes, more than likely, especially if the Jötnar are involved,” Astrid mused. “You haven’t touched your tea.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

She sat back in her seat, her fingers tracing small circles on her knee. “The prophecy is cryptic for a reason. The Esir only reveal to me what I must know. It is a warning. I can see glimpses of what’s to come, that the end of the world is near, but I cannot see how it will unfold. What I know, what they have made very clear… is that there is a power in each of you that can stop it, but I do not know in what way. Only the Esir do. Trust them, and they will guide you.”

“So there is nothing you can tell us,” he said flatly. “You beg for our help, tell us the world will end without it, then offer nothing that can actually tell us how to do that -”

“She has made it perfectly clear what to do,” Gorm snapped. “You are not listening.”

“Ask the Gods,” Rose murmured, and Gorm’s face hardened. “They’ve shown her what she needed, yeah? Now it’s our turn. We have to ask them what to do.” 

“Precisely,” Astrid said with a whisper of a smile, and she reached for the bottle of Dreamshade, sprinkling some into the Doctor’s untouched tea, then Rose’s. “When ingested, the effects of Dreamshade provide a way the Esir can reach one’s consciousness. Drink. When you sleep tonight, note the visions. Tomorrow night, when the moon hovers above the water, return here. Tell me what you saw, and perhaps I can interpret and advise what to do next.”

The Doctor, with one hand on Rose’s back, pulled out his sonic screwdriver, and Astrid’s face paled. 

“You don’t trust me?”

“I trust science,” he said simply, but before he could hover the device above the cup to see what exactly was inside, Rose stopped him.

“Of course we trust you,” she said. Then to the Doctor, muttered. “ You’re being rude .”

“Me? Never.”

“Put it away.”

He couldn’t help but stare at her. The voice she’d just used… it wasn’t one he recognized. It was stern. Not in the way he adored when she was putting a petty alien (or Jarl) in their place. It was the sound of a fighter. Of someone who might have been in situations like this before, on her own, and knew how to negotiate. It was Torchwood’s voice, and he stiffened slightly, setting the screwdriver back down on his lap. 

She sounded, dare he say it, a little like him. 

“I’m curious more than anything,” he mused, sniffing the tea instead. “How does it work? I know the herb to be a hallucinogen. How can the Esir -”

“Dreamshade was originally grown in Asgard,” Sigurd said before he finished his question, still by the stairs. “It is the only thing that keeps us connected to our Gods after the gates were created. The only thing. I swear on my sister’s life, it is safe to drink.” 

The Doctor shared a glance with Rose, who was staring at her tea, watching the sprinkled leaves dissolve in a puff of purple dust. “What kind of visions?” she asked. 

“You will have to tell me,” Astrid whispered. “Tomorrow.”

With a look, one that seemed to say I will if you will, both swallowed their tea in one gulp. 

Like he’d taken a shot of cheap gin a million times over, it burned - almost enough to make his eyes water. But very quickly it cooled, spreading to his arms and legs and stomach, into the place between his hearts. A dull warmth, comforting and serene, and even as it started to feel good …he wasn’t sure he liked it. 

Astrid nodded when they caught their breath. 

“The first time is always like that. Go get some rest,” she murmured, standing and leading them to the door. “Goodnight, drengrs.”

The Doctor looked at Sigurd. “You coming?”

“No. I’ll see you tomorrow,” the Jarl replied softly. “Thank you both. For staying.”

The Doctor didn’t miss his glance to Gorm as they walked back through the snow. 

He held Rose tighter. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

Sleep was hard to come by. 

Anticipation. 

She tossed and turned on their straw mattress, inhaling deeply. His eyes were closed, but his hand was on her knee every time she started to get restless. She loved it, that he knew. That he didn’t need to speak, but he was there. 

He’d almost said those three words today. 

Almost. 

She understood why he hadn’t, even if a part of her still wished he would. Even if it didn’t need saying. Even if, when he’d hovered above her, his body joined in hers, his emotions as clear as the stars that danced above his head… Even when he’d started to say it…

Her lips fluttered when the call of a crow kept her from dozing off (again), and her eyes shot open. 

“Sleep, Rose.” 

“Can’t.”

She felt his lips on her hair. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” she whispered into the dark, sighing. “I get nightmares sometimes. Not often. But when I can’t sleep they tend to happen…And I can’t stop wondering if the visions…what if I’m stuck in a nightmare? What if -”

“Then I’ll wake you up. I’m right here. I’ll be right here.” 

He kissed her shoulder. Once. Twice. Her stomach did a somersault each time. 

“I already feel different,” she admitted. She’d noticed it when she first laid down - the Dreamshade starting to work through her system. “A little… buzzed.” 

It was silent for a moment. “Me too.” 

The tone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, lower and sultry, and she turned on her side to face him - felt him do the same - then smiled into the pillow when his hand slid from her knee up her leg, brushing her skin delicately, before it settled on her hip. Before it squeezed . 

“Go to sleep. No nightmares, I promise.”

“We’ve never been drunk together, you know.”

“That’s not true,” he whispered, his breath hitting her cheek. “I’m just very good at hiding it. Close your eyes.”

“How many times?”

“A few.”

“A few,” she repeated, her smile getting wider. “And yet not one sloshy snog we woke up regretting.” She began stroking her finger along his chin. “How boring.”

He scoffed. “I happen to respect you.” Then, he nudged her nose with his. “And please . There would never be a snog with you I’d regret. Ever.”

“Did you get drunk that night?”

She knew he knew what she meant. Their first night back together. Once they were alone, before the talking and tears and kissing and sex… They’d opened a bottle or two of wine he’d gotten from some planet at some time he didn’t remember to shake off the previous 24 hours. To get Davros’ eye out of their heads. To cushion the goodbyes. 

“No,” he said seriously, his hand on her hip tightening. “Not even close. Did you?”

“Of course not,” she whispered. “I barely touched the glass. I wanted… needed to remember it. Every second.”

He smiled softly. “I was so afraid it was all a dream. You, in the galley again. Knowing exactly where to look for the tea. Laughing. That wine was to calm my nerves, really.” 

“You were nervous?” she asked as her soft hand caressed his cheek. He kissed her palm.

“I knew where that night was headed, Rose.”

There it was, that tone again. Heat began to flood through her. “And you happen to respect me,” she flirted, drifting her finger to his jaw. “Can I tell you what I was thinking, when you were pouring that wine?”

“Please.” 

She bit her lip. “That I had crossed universes to find you, and if you didn’t cross even one of those invisible lines you’d put in place between us… I was going to pour it on your hair.” 

He burst out laughing. 

“...do you want to know what I’m thinking now?” she dared, her finger grazing his skin, making it stand in gooseflesh. 

“ Yes...” 

“That this feeling doesn’t actually feel like alcohol does,” her hand touched his bare chest. “It’s not that kind of a buzz… My mind knows exactly where I am, I know exactly what is going on, but….It’s… It’s like I can feel everything. Every breath in my body. Every brush of my tongue on my teeth as I speak. Every beat of your hearts…” 

A low sound escaped his throat. “Why do you think I needed to kiss you so badly at the feast?” 

She hummed, then twisted her finger in his hair, savoring his gasp.

“I’m thinking… if sensations are heightened,” she paused, her lips touching his, smiling when he whimpered. “I’m thinking that the feeling of you inside of me right now would be… fantastic. What do you think?”  

He choked on his breath, and she began to kiss his neck, roaming her hands across his chest. “I always think any excuse to be buried inside of you is a good one. Rose Tyler .”  

Her name was a prayer, and she purred, sliding her tongue over the skin between his neck and shoulder, slowly pushing him onto his back. He stayed perfectly still as she straddled him, their bodies pressed together chest to chest, and bit his earlobe.

He groaned, tangling his fingers in her hair. 

She did it again, starting to shed the clothing she was wearing. He kissed her exposed shoulder, then ribs when she sat up to pull the dress off, then snaked his fingers between her legs, coating them with a bit of her before he gave one, two, three strokes. 

“I want you to give me everything you have, Rose,” he panted. “Right there, that’s it.” 

“I… oh.” 

Her head flew back in pleasure, and it hit her all at once - how much she loved him. In a spellbinding, all consuming, needy sort of way. Not the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be last, but she wondered if he knew. If he could smell it, taste it, feel it. 

She’d only said it once, of course, only when she thought it was the end, only because the thought of not saying it had ripped her heart to shreds. From the moment she saw him on that abandoned street, she wanted to say it again. The urge grew everyday, but she was so afraid she might ruin whatever it was they had now. 

Except that Sigurd had accused him of it, of loving her, and he didn’t flinch.

He smiled. 

She pulled his hand away from her core and pushed him back on the bed, ignoring the devilish comment he made about her breasts as she kissed him. Deeply, making sure tongues did more talking than she dared to, because if she opened her mouth she knew they’d come out - those three words. It was intoxicating how alive they felt. Burning inside of her, trying to dissolve the prophecy ringing in her ears, the hesitance at what they were about to experience once they were asleep coursing through her blood, the image of the wolf on repeat in her mind. 

She didn’t know what to expect now. What any of it meant. If this problem would be something they could solve quickly or not, but if Bad Wolf led them here…

She slid her hand over his length, hard and pulsing. 

He’d almost said it. 

“Lay still,” she instructed. 

“Or what?” he asked wickedly. 

Her tongue coated his, and for a moment, she almost froze. Because she could almost swear there was a new taste - an odd metallic one - one she was pretty sure she’d tasted once before, but he was rubbing his finger along her skin and circling the pulse point of her center with his thumb, and she decided it didn’t matter. 

“I - ahhh, god…I want you to stay still ,” she demanded, sliding his hand away, and he rutted his length against her. Her voice, breathy and desperate, set his eyes ablaze, and a sinister, tongue-laced grin lined her cheeks. He stilled. “Good. Are you sure you can keep up?”

His low chuckle escaped him. “I’m usually the one asking you that question, you clever thing,” he said a little too cockily, and she raised an eyebrow, taunting him with her fingers on her nipples before she lowered herself onto him inch by inch, moaning. When he tried to move she stopped him, working his restraint into a bundle of nerves as she rocked and swayed and bounced . 

And all the while the words they exchanged, while dirty and teasing, were smothered in it. That feeling. That love. 

It didn’t need saying. 

(But one day, she’d say it.) 

For now she watched him aptly, his voice igniting her as he told her how perfect she looked, his face the pinnacle of pleasure, his moans guiding them both closer and closer until they shattered , their cries a song that could rattle the stars. 

The waves crashed on the shore. 

The moon drifted across the water as her eyes drifted close, and she fell asleep in his arms. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

They were standing on a rock.

A field, lush with wildflowers, surrounded them. Their Norse attire was gone - replaced by pinstripes and leather jackets, and they stared at a purple sky, where constellations she didn’t recognize twinkled in misty swirls. The rock was large and flat, on a rather tall hill, but farther down were trees with silver-blue leaves. A river was at the bottom, bright gold. 

It was the most ethereal place she’d ever seen. 

She knew what was happening, that the Dreamshade was triggering every image, that the Esir might reach out and tell them something, but it didn’t feel like a dream. Especially when he squeezed her hand and every muscle rippled through her. 

“Hello.” 

She looked at him in surprise. 

“You’re here.” 

“I said I would be,” he muttered with a small smile, glancing up at the stars. 

“But… I thought we’d each have a different dream. Are you in my mind? Or am I inside of yours?” He opened his mouth, but she kept speaking. “This is actually you right? Not my dream vision of you?”

He smiled. “Do I need to prove it?”

“Yeah...”

He gave her a long look, as if contemplating his answer. If he even had one. 

“The very first word I ever said to you,” he flirted, and her stomach swooped . “Trapped in that cellar. Surrounded by shop window dummies. Such a long time ago…” Her lip fell between her teeth as he faced her, winking. “I took your hand and I said one word… Just one word, I said…” 

“Run.”

“I can’t believe you’d doubt –.”

“No, Doctor . Run!”

She pointed behind him, and he swirled just in time to see some sort of falcon-like bird screech and glide toward them from a distant tree. An ominous, evil presence radiated off of it. Its feathers were like the night sky itself, its dark eyes fixed and piercing. The sound it made was like death, and he grabbed her hand and bolted toward the edge of the rock. 

They couldn’t climb down. Not easily. 

“Do you know where this is?!” she shouted as the bird screeched again, flapping its wings before it flew directly above them, readying its descent, and she realized what was going on. 

They were its prey. 

“No. There’s a planet in the Mageddon Galaxy with trees that are silver, but they aren’t quite the same. I have no idea,” he said quickly, eyeing the bird, who was tilting its head, watching them. “Shh. Don’t move. Wait.”

She stilled.  “What about the stars?”

“No clue.”

The bird screeched. Flapped. Hovered. 

Then bolted down. 

 “Okay, now! JUMP!”

With a wild look in his eye, his warning he was about to do something completely idiotic, he backed up, then ran as fast as he could and swan-dived from the edge of the rock. 

Pure terror gripped her. 

“DOCTOR!!!!!!”

Splash. 

His head popped up in the water, and the bird crowed.

A death-call. 

“ROSE! JUMP! It’s warm, I swear. Nearly a thousand feet deep!” he called up to her. “JUMP! NOW! COME ON!” 

“You’re INSANE !” 

He grinned. “OH YES!”

She bit her lip, every fiber in her body telling her she needed to jump. The bird was close, flying far too quickly, readying its talons. Its scream was ringing in her ears, but all she could focus on was the space between her feet and the water. Hundreds of meters. 

Which, she supposed, was much smaller than the space between him had been . 

He sensed it, too. “You can do it. You risked travel between dimensions without a second thought. This is a piece of cake.”

The bird screamed, its talons too close to her hair. She felt the gust of wind it created as its wings flapped near her. Its breath hovered in the air. 

It reached its talons out and –

“ROSE, NOW!!!!!!”

She sailed through the air, probably screaming, but felt no pain as her body collided with the water. He wasn’t lying about the warmth. It was like silk, and she was so startled by it that she let her body soak for a moment before she kicked up and broke the surface. 

He grinned proudly, sighing in relief when the bird flapped away to find another meal.  

She splashed him with a glare. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

He splashed her back, then pulled her into a kiss. But before their heartbeats settled, the branches behind them ruffled, and blue eyes as bright as the ocean appeared below the silver-crested trees. 

A white wolf slowly stalked toward the water. 

Rose stopped breathing. 

Instinctually, her body braced itself in front of the Doctor’s, both still kicking to stay afloat as the beast lowered its face to the golden stream and lapped. Once. Twice. Then it lifted its glorious head - so large it didn’t seem possible - and howled. 

This time, it hurt beyond reason. 

The ringing in her ears returned with a vengeance, as did the throb in her head, but both were overshadowed by the symphony that erupted inside of her. A plethora of notes. Music. It strummed through her veins, and it was too much, far too loud as the Doctor shouted her name. She sank into the water, his arms looping under her shoulders and holding her to him. Holding her above the water. 

The wolf ran off. 

Her body couldn’t fight it. The river was like golden lead, pulling her down, down, down as he fought with everything he had to keep her up, up, up. Seconds went by, but it might as well have been hours. She knew he was calling to her. She could feel his panic, but she couldn’t do anything but sink further and further into the stream - and the music. 

One single note repeated over and over in her mind, a solid bass, until a female voice began to sing. 

“Ooooh-ooooh-ooooh-oooh-oooh-ooh–oooh-ooohhh -”  

It was a song she’d heard before. 

Suddenly, she gasped awake, her awareness returning as the song faded, her eyes widening as she began kicking and splashing, but his hands held her steady. 

“Rose, I’ve got you, it’s okay -”

“Doctor…” she groaned desperately. He clenched his jaw, surveying her with a scrutiny usually reserved for injuries. He cupped her check, both still kicking.  

“Let’s get out of the water, yeah? Can you swim?”

“Y-yes,” she panted, and she didn’t wait for him to offer to help. Heart pounding, ears still ringing from the song, she reached the shore after a few strokes, staring at the spot the wolf had been. Golden droplets fell from her hair onto the grass. 

He brushed it out of her eyes as he sat beside her.

“That’s what you saw? During the battle?”

She nodded. “I think it wants me to follow it.”

He glanced back at the leaves, inhaling deeply, his voice clipped. “Okay.”

“You think we should?”

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” he said, looking up at the sky again. Something in his eye flickered. “Though I’m not sure why we’re being hunted by animals… ” He brought a tentative, careful finger to her temple. “How’s your head?”

“It’s fine,” she whispered, shrugging. “It’s just… overwhelming when it happens.”

“When what happens?” 

“The howling.”

His answering frown was deeper than she’d ever seen it - raw and unsettled. The way the song made her feel. Like something was slipping from her grasp. 

She couldn’t remember where she’d heard it before. 

Slowly, she stood, leaning into his hand on her back as he helped her up, and they began to walk. The silver trees ruffled as they maneuvered through the forest, the wildflowers at their feet. No paw marks were on the ground, but the wolf was out there, so they relied on eyes and ears, waiting for anything that might guide them. 

“What happens?” he asked after several minutes of silence. “When it howls.”

She twisted her earring. “I can’t explain it.” 

“You’ve passed out nearly three times. On the docks. On the beach. And just now.”

“This one doesn’t count, it’s a dream .”

“No,” he said seriously. “I don’t think that part was.” 

She turned to look at him as he pulled a branch out of the way and let her walk through, her thoughts fixated on the song she heard. Was everything she heard also happening to her subconscious? If so, then how much was a dream and how much was a fortelling? How much was a warning given by the Esir? 

All of it, possibly. She had no reason to assume it wasn’t. Not when Astrid told them to pay attention and tell her everything so she could make sense of it. Not when the Esir speak in riddles and prophecies. 

“Did you hear music?” she asked. He just looked at her. “In my head just now…It’s like there was this singing.”

She’d said that before. On a day she can’t really remember. 

They both seemed to realize it. The Doctor stiffened, nearly stumbling over his feet. 

She bit her lip. “You said you sang a song and the Daleks ran away…”

His face, if it was possible, was melting in concern. 

“That didn’t happen, did it?”

He sighed. “We should go.”

“You’ve never told me,” she begged, grabbing his arm when he tried to move. “About what really happened that day. Bits and pieces, yes, but nothing –”

“It doesn't matter what happened. It’s over. You’re safe.”

“I wasn’t safe?”

“You looked into the heart of the TARDIS, into the Time Vortex itself. No, you were not safe,” he nearly growled, his storm flickering just a little. She rolled her eyes. 

“Well, neither were you!” she retorted. “You sent me away and I wanted you safe. That, I remember. That all I wanted was -”

“Why are we talking about this?” he asked, crossing his arms. “It happened such a long time ago, Rose. So much has happened since. We should be focusing on this dream , not on the past. Not on –”

“Because I can’t remember where I’ve heard that song before and I can’t remember what happened that day. So what if…” she closed her eyes. “Bad Wolf led me back. Then, and in the parallel universe. Bad Wolf is what the Esir are watching. That song I heard is not a coincidence. And if we’re going to figure this out, then I need to know what happened.”

He swallowed, and even from the distance she was standing, she could practically feel how fast his hearts were racing. “No,” he whispered. “I did not sing a song. You did.”

She bit her lip. 

“All that really matters is that I meant what I said earlier. There is not a snog with you I’d ever regret. Ever.”

“What does that mean? You kissed me?”

“You had a headache,” he whispered. “I took care of it.”

Her brow came together. “What?”

“Why do you think I’ve been so worried, Rose? We’re in Norway . After the battle, all you could say was your head hurt. Any time that happens, for years now, even if it's just a hangover or your cycle… Something inside of me twists. You were burning,” he said, stepping closer to her. “You came back and with a flick of your wrist, you disintegrated every last Dalek. You were burning.” 

“So you kissed me?”

He shrugged. “You needed a doctor.”

She understood. 

“You regenerated –”

“It was time to go.”

“You…” she began, but the words caught in her throat and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her hands fell to her chest, some part of her mind acknowledging the pounding of her heart, but all she could do was tremble and shake her head, not able to accept the nugget of truth he’d just offered. “Y-you…”

“I would do it again,” he said fiercely. “Every time, Rose. I’d do it all over again.”

Her jaw shook as she stared into his chocolate eyes, so clear and pristine despite this still being a dream, and she stepped closer, cupping his cheek as their breathing began to sync up. “I lo-”

But a sound rippled through the trees, and they both looked up to see a large foot about to crush them. 

“Well, that’s new,” he mumbled. 

It stepped, shaking the ground. 

“RUN!!!!” she shouted, grabbing his hand, and they bolted through the forest. 

The creature, the giant (or whatever it was), was not the Jötnar. That much she could confidently say. Its skin wasn’t blue or icy like Sigurd said it would be. It was dry and cracked and gray, like it had been burned and healed several times over, and it didn’t seem to notice them. It was just walking somewhere, stepping without caring, and Rose gasped as the Doctor wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a small patch of wildflowers that was off the beaten path, out of its line of movement. 

It walked on, not bothering to look back, until it disappeared from their sight.  

The Doctor clenched his jaw. 

“The giants of Muspelheim,” he whispered. “The ones who can see images in fire.”

“How do you know?”

“I s’pose I don’t, not for certain,” he mumbled. “But if the legends I know are true, which they seem to be…Then only Jotunheim and Muspelheim are home to a race of giants. Midgard has humans, Svartalfheim has dwarves, Alheim is home to some sort of Elf, Helheim carries the Dead, Asgard the Gods, Nifelheim has no one - it's just fog, the space between life and death… Valhalla is where the warriors rest. Jotunheim is where the Jötnar live, and Muspelheim… giants .” 

“So this place,” she deduced. “Is it Muspelheim?”

“No,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. There would be more fire.”

They both held their breath for a moment, and he looked at her. “How was that sentence going to end?” he asked softly. She bit her lip, her eyes sparkling. 

“You tell me. You never finished yours first.”

He smiled widely. 

The wolf howled. 

And Rose, as expected, cringed until the pain passed. 

“This way,” she grumbled, pointing to her left. “I think we need to hurry.”

He nodded as he took her hand, both understanding they were going to wake up soon, and they walked. 

And walked.

And walked, until they came across a cave not unlike the one that collapsed. Rather than jutting out into the ocean, however, it was tucked into a large mountain covered in silver leaves, its formation odd and enticing. Like a whisper or breath. As if the mountain had a face and this was its mouth, ready to tell them something they needed to hear. 

The wolf stood in the center of it. 

Rose swallowed. Waited. Gripped the Doctor’s arm, even, but it didn’t howl. 

She felt no pain. 

“This is it,” she said softly, her breath louder than it should be in the stillness of the air. “Come on.”

“Rose…” he said warningly, but she was moving toward the wolf, staring into its blue eyes as she approached the cave. For the first time, she was close enough to pet it, but before she could it ran off, leaving her staring at the dark abyss inside the mountain with curiosity, her heart pounding. 

“It doesn’t want to hurt me,” she realized, her fingers brushing the outside of the stones. “What is this place?”

The Doctor reached into his pocket, but to his dismay, the sonic screwdriver wasn’t there. 

“I think we have to go inside to find out.”

Swallowing hard, she took the lead, pushing aside some of the silver leaves to make a clear path. He looked around with a stoic face, calculating and deducting. The air in the cave smelled odd, and the only sound was their own footsteps for several moments. There were no stalagmites and no water. It was almost like a pit, dark and open and full of nothing. 

Until they looked to their right and found another room. 

An oval-shaped mirror leaned against the stone wall, light refracting off of it, filling the space with a soft golden hue. They both stopped. 

“Ever seen something like that before?” Rose whispered. He shook his head, stepping into the new room tentatively. “Be careful.”

“Do you see anything else?” he asked, looking around with her. But the room was empty apart from the mirror. Rose approached it. 

Swirls of purple and green and blue all mixed together, almost like a nebula. 

Then, she felt it. The tug on her mind. Her body starting to wake, her grip on the reality of this dream shifting, and she locked eyes with the Doctor, who seemed to be feeling it to. 

For some reason, she grabbed his hand, and touched the mirror. 

Chapter Text

He’d been through portals before. 

They’re rare. Usually only accessible on planets where the energy is solely connected to the physical space it occupies. They take an absurd amount of power, and they are always a risk. Like dimension hopping, the potential for someone to be ripped apart molecularly increases with every portal they touch - their atoms growing more and more sensitive to the ripples of space they shouldn’t be able to cross. 

The mirror was one. 

And he knew the moment he was sucked inside of it, that the risk was palpable.  

It all happened rather quickly, and how it was that he was no longer in the guesthouse, but was now standing on a set of stairs (in the dark), he didn’t understand. All he knew was he was awake with no idea where he was - now in his pinstripes, thanking every God he didn’t believe in that Rose was gasping beside him.

Wearing leather. 

“What just happened?” she asked.

He shook his head, his fingers pressing into her side, trying to cling to some semblance of reality. Whatever space they were in was confined, like a hallway or tunnel. A small window provided a bit of light, but it was too high to see out of, and his first thought was they were in a dungeon, for the air was far too stale to be close to the outside world, and there was a stillness around them usually reserved for trouble. 

Except they were on a set of stairs, not locked in a cell, which meant they could potentially walk and discover a larger room. Or escape . He reached into his pocket, sighing in relief when his fingers wrapped around the sonic screwdriver. Nothing seemed alarming. Not the air, or walls, or ground. Clenching his jaw, he looked around for a door, but settled on an unlit torch tucked into the corner. The only sound was the buzz of the sonic until he had it blazing, and they walked to the end of the stairs, then frowned. 

It was a cellar.

The hallway was small, but the room was large - with barrels of wine lined up across from them. They approached them slowly, trying to understand what was going on, when a door at the top of the stairs opened. A young girl with porcelain skin and fiery red hair bounded down, eager and happy. 

“The Doctor and Rose Tyler!” she said softly. They both stared at her as her eyes widened in embarrassment. “Oh, I do apologize. Sir Doctor and Dame Rose, yes. The Stuff of Legend. The Last of the Time Lords and the Impossible Human. The Oncoming Storm and the Bad Wolf. Welcome. Come with me, please.”

“Sorry… who are you ?” the Doctor asked, something dark and protective twisting in his core, but the girl - who was wearing the sort of dress that belonged in another world entirely, one with flowing skirts and a corset top - smiled. 

“I am the messenger. I was sent to retrieve you.”

“By whom ?”

“Oh, she would like to explain that, I imagine. If you could please come with me,” the girl repeated kindly, gesturing back the way she came. “There is a feast. Are you hungry?”

Rose knelt down until their eyeline was the same, and smiled at her in a way that shook the Doctor to the core. “Where are we, sweetheart? Can you tell us that?”  

“Asgard,” the girl said, and the already stale air tightened in their throats. The Doctor’s spine straightened. “Will you please follow me?”

Well…. he hadn’t expected that. 

Rose nodded, slipping her hand into the Doctor’s as she stood, and they shared a long glance, not entirely sure what to say as they walked up the stairs and out onto a marble path. He supposed on one hand, it made sense. They were just in a dream controlled by the Esir, and if they were going to be magically transported somewhere, the Gods would probably be the ones to do it. On the other hand, it seems entirely impossible. Almost as impossible as the sensation of Time that was starting to spin around him, almost as it did in his youth.

Almost. 

And that…. well….

“Oh, I really wish I was more excited about this,” he muttered in her ear as they pushed the door open. “All those trips to Earth, Rose Tyler, and here we are. Me and you. In another bloody realm.”

She gave him a soft smile. 

He tugged on his ear, watching everything carefully. To his relief, Asgard seemed to be the opposite of Gallifrey, even with Time doing whatever it was doing. The sky was exactly the same as the dream - purple, with constellations he didn’t recognize shimmering in misty swirls. They were in the back of a rather large palace, and they followed the young girl toward a courtyard surrounded by flowers and fountains, zigzagging through corridors and archways, until they stood on a veranda that overlooked what must be the heart of the realm. 

Despite the thundering in his hearts, he smiled. 

Because in 904 years of time and space, he’d never seen anything quite like it. 

Creatures with wings flew above buildings that were so high he couldn’t see the top of them. All pure white, plated in vibrant golds and blues, with jewels and art thrown about every corner. It smelled like incense and something else, almost as if happiness was bottled in the air itself. Marble roads created pathways toward large swimming pools that overlooked a green valley. Wildflowers - which were sentient, he was realizing, were singing. Animals of all shapes and sizes roamed freely, and the purple sky was somehow more vibrant than before - the constellations more clear. 

An intoxicating cocktail of meats, breads, and cakes filled his lungs, and he rubbed his jaw when the girl gestured to a plethora of tables lined with nibbles. 

“Please eat whatever you wish and get acclimated. My Lady will be with you shortly.”

“Your Lady ?” the Doctor asked. “The Gods have servants?”

“Of course not. I am a member of the Court.”

“Right,” the Doctor mused. “And how old are you?”

“Two thousand and eighty-six, Sir Doctor,” she said. “How old are you?”

Rose chuckled a little, and the Doctor merely quirked a brow, watching as the girl curtseyed and joined the merriment happening below. It was a party. There was music and dancing. A variety of barrels like the ones they’d seen in the cellar were poured into chalices and passed between various hands - all of which seemed to have an ethereal, golden glow about them. They weren’t human, and he understood very clearly that they weren’t just attending a party, but witnessing the Esir themselves get drunk on wine and feast on sweets. 

Rose let out a shaky breath, gripping the railing in front of them so hard her knuckles burned.

“What is it?” he asked, alarmed. “Your head?” 

“No, no, it’s nothing like that… It’s just ... how? ” she whispered. Their gazes locked, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him. “We were in bed, naked… That mirror wasn’t real...”

“Of course it was,” a voice said behind them, and they turned on a dime, gaping at a perfectly sculpted figure with perfectly sculpted hair. “By Odin. The legends are true. The Doctor and Rose Tyler. Here, in the flesh.”

“Legends?” Rose whispered. The man smiled. 

“You are the stuff of them, are you not?” 

The Doctor’s lips pressed into a line, his grip on Rose tightening. The man held out two chalices of wine, which they had no choice but to take carefully. 

“They call me Tyrin,” he said. “Or Tyr for short. I am the Asgardian God of War.”

“Blimey,” Rose mumbled, staring at the perfect red hue of her wine. The Doctor clenched his jaw. 

“Would you care to join the festivities?” Tyr asked, looking over the edge of the railing down. “Many are eager to meet you, but they will wait until you are ready. It was a long night, you should satiate any appetite.”

“How did we get here?” Rose asked. Tyr smiled warmly. 

“My sister ought to explain that. She’ll bite my head off if I try,” he said. “Not to worry. She will return soon. Once she does, I imagine there will be plenty of time for a chat.”

The Doctor raised a brow. “And your sister is…?” 

“The most honorable of us all,” he continued. “Sif. Thor’s beloved.”

The Doctor swallowed. Rose nibbled on her lip. Tyr, however, gestured for them to follow as he led them down the stairs, every eye around them following every step. Whispers began to linger in their ears, their names murmured a dozen or more times, but Tyr ignored it and brought them to a table littered with food. They didn’t move toward it. 

He began to plate it for them. “We felt it in all Nine Realms, you know. When your blue box arrived in Midgard. Sif will explain more… But you’re here. That is a very good sign. Fruit?”

The Doctor examined a pear in disgust. “A sign of what?”  

“Peace…”

The Doctor looked at him, but Tyr merely smiled and bowed his head, then made his excuses before he ventured to a cushion lined with beautiful gods and goddesses willing to share their wine. Alone, the Doctor scanned the food, and when he determined it was safe, he and Rose nibbled on a few breadsticks, thinking. 

“So…they’re all Gods,” Rose said softly. 

“Appear to be.”

“There’s so many...”

“They breed like feral cats,” he muttered, and Rose flashed him a proper tongue in cheek smile that made his hearts skip a beat. “They know who we are. We had titles. ”

“Yeah, I know...” Rose said. “I mean, you , I get. But me?”

He stopped chewing, watching as she shrugged. “What?”

“ Bad Wolf is what they’re interested in, for whatever reason,” she sighed. “Astrid said they think there is something about me, Something of the Wolf…. That werewolf said it once before too, back in Scotland, but -”

“Oh, right . I still owe you 5 quid…” he said, deflecting, snapping his breadstick. She smiled. 

“But you apparently snogged me and took that power away,” she continued, giving him a look he chose to ignore. “I don’t know why they think I’m so special.”

He stared at her. “Tell me you don’t mean that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up, I just mean I’m not worthy of the Gods’ attention,” she said, nudging his arm. “Back home, I know what I can offer, sure. I came a long way to prove that. But in this place? I dunno. I’m suddenly very aware of how human I am.”

“Being human is one of my favorite things about you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. We could be at the beginning and end of the universe, Rose, and you would still be the beginning and end of everything,” he said softly, taking a bite. “How do you not see that?”

Before she could reply, a scream pierced the air.

They glanced toward it, suddenly dropping their breadsticks as one of the Goddesses ran toward Tyr, who was already grabbing a sword.  Her eyes were wide, her finger shaking as she pointed to the swimming pools, and he shouted something about ‘not letting them in’ as the other Esir began to armor-up as well, replacing their flowing attire with plated leather. Rose stepped forward, about to ask what was going on, when she saw it. 

In the valley below the swimming pools, stood the Jötnar. 

And the world seemed to get a little more terrifying. 

Its icy skin was as blue as Sigurd warned it to be. It stood more than four meters high, and its yellow eyes raged as it roared into the air, the sound visceral and alarming, and she gasped as it began to lift its arms above its head, pulling the ground with it. 

Everyone began to shout and move, running toward it. 

Tyr grabbed the Doctor’s arm. 

“Get inside.”

“How did it get here?”

“No time to explain, get in the palace. I’ll find you both after.”

The Jötnar bellowed once more, magic swirling around its fingers, then somehow managed to throw the pieces of the ground it held toward the veranda, knocking into it once, then twice. A coldness suddenly radiated in the air. Spears of ice followed suit, piercing the fruit and roasted meats and scattering them onto the floor. Tyr shouted something at another God, who leapt into the air and grew wings, shooting arrows at the Jötnar quickly and rapidly. The Doctor and Rose watched in shock as more of the Esir scaled down the palace into the valley, suddenly holding weapons and readying their own magic and skills, and they all began to attack. 

The Jötnar, with one swing of its arm, knocked them all back. 

It shot more ice toward the veranda. 

It roared. 

Tyr somehow blocked the ice with fire, and the Jötnar began to change positions, pushing through the small army at its feet as it made its way toward the veranda. 

The Doctor grabbed Rose’s hand. 

They ran.

Not inside, of course, but toward the pools. 

As the Jötnar began to hit the pillars holding the veranda up with its fists, trying to topple the entire thing over and climb up, the Doctor aimed the sonic screwdriver at the water. It began to swirl until it overflowed, spilling down the side of the palace with the force of a steady waterfall, onto the Jötnar’s head. It distracted the creature long enough for a few of the flying God’s arrows to hit its back, and it screamed so roughly that it felt like the sound was tearing through the Doctor’s eardrums, but he kept the water going as the Gods began to use their considerable skills against the Jötnar, a stunning combination of combat and magic.

The Jötnar, in pain and losing , created a blast of ice so powerful, that everyone was thrown on their backs. 

Rose slammed into a pillar and groaned when a sharp pain ricocheted through her shoulder. 

The Doctor, gasping, tried to reach her, but something swooped down between them carrying a glistening sword, and for a moment, it was all he could focus on. 

A Pegasus-type animal, large and black, landed in the center of the marble floor, armed and ready. As it whinnied, a woman with flowing yellow hair dismounted and ran to the edge of the now-empty pool, peering at the battle below. 

Sweat lined her brow. Blood coated her cheek. Where she had come from was just as intriguing as everything else going on, and for some reason the Doctor knew it was Sif; riding in on her winged horse like a Valkyrie. 

She turned to them. 

“What are you two doing?! Get inside.” 

He gaped at her, noticing the leather armor she wore was the same color as Rose’s jacket, who was now sitting up and rubbing her shoulder. He scrambled toward her, asking if she was alright, but all she could do was nod, her attention solely on the Goddess who was nodding at Tyr. 

Together, they raised their hands. 

Together, they somehow incapacitated the Jötnar, who struggled against a series of golden ropes a few other Gods were lassoing around it, until it had no choice but to give up and collapse to the ground. 

It smiled at Sif. A sinister, wicked grin. 

She, however, was unphased as she spoke. “Tell him he will have to try harder than this. And that if he wants you back, he’ll have to come get you himself.”

She snapped her fingers, and the Jötnar toppled over, unconscious. 

“Lock him up. Now,” she instructed Tyr, who moved instantly. 

And whatever happened next the Doctor and Rose didn’t see, because Sif was kneeling before them, holding out her hand. 

“Are you both alright?”

They stared at her. She glanced at Rose’s hand, still rubbing her shoulder. 

“We will get that looked at,” she said kindly. “I am very sorry. I meant to be here when you arrived, but my brother received word of a breach in the gate that shields this realm, and I knew the Jötnar would be around here somewhere. I wanted to stop them before they reached us. Before they reached you . You should have gone inside…” 

“Not really our forté,” the Doctor said gruffly. Sif smirked. 

“I am aware,” she mused. He shared a look with Rose. “I am sure you have questions. It’s alright, I assure you. You are safe. Tyr and the others will clean up then get the festivities going again soon. He’s prepared a room for us to get acquainted. Just there, through those doors. Why don’t you come with me?”

Rose’s gaze hadn’t shifted away from the blood on Sif’s cheek. “Are you alright?”

The Goddess furrowed her brow, but seemed to understand what she was asking a moment later, and she gave Rose a small smile. She wiped the blood away. “Occupational hazard.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling.”

The two women laughed a little, and Sif helped Rose stand, who took one proper look at her golden hair and piercing eyes and seemed to realize she was a human in the presence of a God. She bowed, but Sif shook her head. 

“My brother-in-law might have thought differently, but no woman should ever bow before anyone. Ever. Least of all each other. Stand, drengr. I insist.”

The Doctor gave Sif a small, impressed smile. If she noticed, she didn’t say. She merely took Rose’s hand and gave it a squeeze. 

“I cannot express the gratitude I feel to see you here, Rose Tyler,” she whispered. “I have been eager to meet you.”   

“M-me?”

Sif smiled. “As well as you, Doctor. The man of many faces.”

“Hello,” he said. 

“Come, please,” Sif said, opening a pair of double doors that revealed what must be a War Room. Battle plans and weapons were everywhere. Candles adorned each wall, as well as several paintings and shelves of books, and in the center was a stone table with a map of all Nine Realms scattered across it. The Doctor couldn’t help but walk straight to it, admiring the craftsmanship. 

He waited for Sif to say something. Anything. For Tyr to come in and explain what the hell just happened. But no one moved so much as a muscle, and his finger traced the edge of Alfheim, his thumb the corner of Valhalla… 

“My husband had that commissioned for my brother’s birthday one year,” she explained. “It is his most prized possession."

“It’s beautiful,” the Doctor said. Sif nodded. 

“I’m sure it was a shock, arriving here so suddenly,” she said, finally taking a seat at a dining table that was tucked against a wall. “And I’m sure more of a shock to see how not shocked we are by it.”

“You were expecting us,” the Doctor said, sniffing. “I gathered that much from the two thousand year old child.”

“Synestra,” Sif said with a smile. “She is Tyr’s messenger. Every political move he makes travels through her.”

“She looks like she’s ten years old.”

“And therefore no one ever suspects her,” Sif said calmly. “Though it’s been thousands of years since we’ve needed her services. That’s changed recently. What you witnessed is just the tip of the iceberg. Even Midgard has started to feel the ripple effects.”

The air in the room thickened. Rose sat down across from Sif, and the Doctor leaned against the table. “The Jötnar arriving here - does this have anything to do with Sigurd’s men washing up on shore?” he asked. 

“More than likely,” Sif murmured. Then she stood and gathered food on a plate, setting it down for them to share. “It’s been…. By Odin, where shall I start?”

“The beginning,” the Doctor said. “Tell us why we’re here.”

“To answer that, you need context,” Sif sighed. “You should eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then at least sit,” she insisted, pushing the chair next to Rose out with her foot. The Doctor, for once, obeyed. “I lost my love during Ragnarok.”

“Sigurd said,” Rose whispered. “I’m so sorry…”

Sif gave her a half smile. “After he died, I made it my mission to uphold his legacy here in Asgard. He was heir to the throne, and with Odin gone… We had no children, you see. So it was decided I was to carry on what he started, to try and help the Realms heal. It has been a slow process, especially with Jotunheim still so dissatisfied by how fate intervened.” 

“You’re the Queen of Asgard,” Rose realized. Sif began to nibble on an apple. 

“I established the gates as a way to keep peace inside of each Realm,” she explained. “But it is a temporary fix. For centuries, it has worked, but now the stability of the shields are weakening. Someone is breaking through.”

“The Jötnar,” the Doctor said. 

“Yes. I don’t know how they are doing it, as the gates are still locked and they don’t always get in, but when they do, it’s clear they are searching for something….I fear they are answering to someone else,” she whispered. “Jötnar are fiercely loyal creatures. Soldiers. It is important to note that they don’t typically act on their own accord, but on their master’s.”

The Doctor grabbed a berry and shoved it in his mouth, eyebrow raised. Sif poured each of them wine. 

“War is coming,” she revealed. “It has been brewing for centuries.  But it’s gotten worse in the last few months.”

“Who do the Jötnar answer to?” the Doctor asked, eating another berry. Sif locked eyes with Rose. 

“The gates have been sealed for thousands of years. No way in, no way out. As far as I know, they’ve only had one master. One of their own with ties to Asgard. Loki.”

The Doctor dropped his next berry. 

“He used to attend these parties,” Sif added, looking at the double doors. “Back when Odin and Thor still walked among us. He always made them… his own. But their sacrifice, while weighted and forever felt, was done with honor. They walk in Valhalla, the mightiest of them all.” 

“And Loki?”

“He is a trickster,” Syn sneered, drinking her wine. “We thought he died. But somehow, it seems he escaped during the madness of Ragnarok’s final battle. As my dear Thor, his brother, was slicing Jormungandr in half, he vanished. He was clever about it. He left his helmet behind, which is the source of his power. It was riddled with blood, his blood, so we assumed that meant he…. “ 

Rose put her hand onto the Doctor’s knee, who gave it a squeeze. 

“Then, years ago, that same helmet was stolen from our most protected library. Only someone who knew every inch of this palace, who once held Odin’s blessing, could have gotten in without Heimdell’s permission. He is our most trusted guard, and Odin only ever bestowed that honor on his children and myself. Once it is given, it cannot be undone. So Loki still had access, even after everything.”

“How long ago was this?” the Doctor asked. 

“Nearly three hundred years,” Sif said. “We’ve been searching for it ever since. For him . But we are limited to this realm, the same as everyone. Even I cannot get past the gates. I built them that way on purpose. Loki, Tyrin thinks, can .”

“How?”

Sif took another long sip of wine. “We can only assume… but we believe he is staying hidden in the space between realms. That he must have tucked himself away when the gates were first opened. The Void.”

The Doctor sat up straight. Rose tugged on her earring. 

“No living thing could survive that,” the Doctor whispered. Sif nodded sadly.

“You did.”

His entire body tensed. 

Rose furrowed her brow. 

“What difference is there, really, between a God and Time Lord? The Laws of Time bend differently for men of your nature, do they not?”

“And what do you know about the Laws of Time?” the Doctor asked gruffly. Sif took a drink. 

“Our access and understanding is limited, Doctor, I assure you, and is not what any of us seek. I do not care for it.”

“But how did Loki get there?” Rose asked. “I studied the Void for years…” she trailed off, and the Doctor felt his insides churn, knowing full well this was after she’d nearly been pulled inside herself , back when she was crafting a certain dimension cannon she risked it all to use. “There’s nothing. It’s a place so empty, it sucks all life out of everything.”

“There is one exception to that,” Sif said slowly, her gaze shifting to the Doctor. “Is there not?

He sniffed, eating another berry. “What are you suggesting?” 

“You know it, Doctor, surely. If everything lines up correctly. If the circumstances are right, such as when weapons of great power that can control Time are used in a war to end all wars, challenging the destruction of everything, then… there can be a glitch in the system.”

Rose opened her mouth, only to immediately close it. Because the Doctor had gone stiff - his face pale. He glared at her. 

“We believe he did exactly as you did. Or, almost . Tyr has studied it for ages, what may or may not have occured. It seems Loki rode a time signature into the Void when the universe exploded, just as time itself stood still. Except that while you found your way out before time restarted and took your beloved TARDIS elsewhere, he must have manipulated the space around him and created a pocket for himself inside the Void - hidden in the signature. No one has ever noticed.”

Rose felt sick. 

The Doctor looked sick. 

Sif gave them an apologetic stare. 

“You wanted to die that day, Doctor, when you did what you had to do. That did not go unseen. But you are honorable , and you knew the universe needed someone to keep Time in its place after Gallifrey was gone. Your actions saved all of our histories, and I am sorry, I am so sorry to make you relieve it now. Know that your place in Valhalla was secured long ago if you ever wish to use it. Your intentions were not as Loki’s are, we know that. Please don’t misunderstand me.”

Rose slipped her hand into his and squeezed until she thought it might break, understanding finally washing through her. The Time War. He’d never told her any details. She never asked. Only that he was left traveling on his own because there was no one left, and she didn’t want to know any more. 

Her heart, seeing his face now, shattered . 

“... how ?” he croaked, his voice thick with fury. Sif sighed. 

“That is what we are trying to figure out,” she said. “We have a theory, Tyr and myself. That he waited until the last strike against Jormungandr, when my beloved’s hammer split into nine pieces. When Thor’s connection to the elements ripped across the sun and the moon and the stars themselves. It was a cataclysmic moment. Time was rewritten . He could have touched one while it was still glowing and disappeared. Thor was his brother. He knew how that hammer worked. Like I said… he is a trickster.”

“Because the hammer is infused with time…” Rose said, barely breathing. Sif nodded slowly, her eyes locked on the Doctor’s face. “So that’s why you need us. You need someone who can tell you how it works.”

“I need someone who can wield the hammer,” Sif said seriously, and whatever ounce of calamity the Doctor had vanished. He closed his eyes. “Tyr has been tracking Loki as best he can. He is likely still in the Void, but he is powerful. Much more powerful than any of us. He was weakened in the war, which I believe is why nothing has happened for so many years, but now… Now he must be getting stronger. We think he is searching for the remnants, and using the Jötnar to do his bidding.”

Rose glanced at the map in the center of the room, her head spinning. 

“What’s he want with them?” she asked. 

“Also something we can only speculate,” SIf revealed. “But two Jötnar have slipped through cracks and come to our realm. Both are being kept in a holding prison on the outskirts of the palace. They are not talking, but Astrid said Sigurd has seen one in Midgard. The other Realms, according to our seers and sources, are still untouched. Which is good. It means Loki is still not strong enough to break through the gates completely. But it also means he’s being clever, and is likely trying to weaken the stronger Realms first.”

“Stronger how?” Rose asked. 

“You saw us out there. Each of the Esir are warriors in our own rights. If he can get through to us first, weaken our stability and steal the piece we possess, then the other Realms will be a walk in the park for him. Of course, Midgard is where the humans live, and Loki hates them because Thor loved them. So they must also be his first target.”

“Why did Thor love them so much?” Rose pressed, but Sif shook her head, then rubbed her eyes before continuing. 

“If Loki finds the pieces and reassembles the hammer…then with it and his helmet, he could do anything. Become like Odin himself, as both were crafted by Odin. He’d have almost infinite power, could even go so far as to send the universe into chaos. For revenge, for sport, for fun…. He could send us back to Ragnarok.”

“The hammer is broken ,” the Doctor spat. 

“But the pieces still work,” Sif murmured. Rose bit her lip, the spot on her foot where the hammer had pressed suddenly starting to ache. “Why do you think the Jötnar was at that cave? They were looking for what you found.” 

He sniffed, wondering if Sif knew what Rose had done with the piece, but said nothing.

“So Sigurd was telling the truth,” he muttered instead. “There’s nothing we can do, then.”

“Of course there is. The gates are not yet severed,” Sif murmured. “But we must act quickly before they are.”

Rose gave her a careful look. “He means because we heard something scream when the piece exploded. Sigurd was worried it was the Jötnar; that it was the start of your prophecy. When the Jötnar cries and the mad beast roars... ”

Sif, with a furrowed brow, stood and studied the map for a moment, then shook her head. 

“No,” she declared. “I would have sensed it. It was something else.” 

“So what are we supposed to do?” Rose asked, remembering that the reason they drank the Dreamshade was to ask the Gods for help. Sif sighed. 

“There are nine pieces of the hammer, one in each Realm,” she explained. “I hid them that way to ensure the hammer’s safety. You have one, yes?” Rose nodded. “Good. I will take you to the one Asgard possesses. I need you to retrieve the remaining seven before Loki can.”

Rose let her tongue play with her lip. “Aren’t the gates still hidden? And locked?”

“Not for you, dearest,” she said softly. “You are the key, Rose Tyler. One I did not anticipate.”

A stillness washed over them. 

Sif continued. “Once the pieces are in your hands, bring them here. We can reassemble the hammer, and you can wield against Loki, if it comes to that.”

“Using Bad Wolf,” the Doctor snapped, putting it all together and feeling pure rage. “That’s what all of this is about, isn’t it? He’s playing with Time , so you want Rose to go on a goose chase, then access the Vortex again, and what? Use that power to stop Ragnarok ?”

“Rose is not the one with the power of a Storm in her veins,” Sif said coolly. “But there is much that makes her special. Much only she can see. Very, very much. All of which will become clear.”

His entire body went limp. Rose’s jaw hung open. 

She guzzled their wine. Sif poured her more. 

“Because of our connection to Time, we see much here in Asgard,” she said. “I have heard whispers of the two of you from your beginnings. I know you to be selfless and do the impossible. I've watched you sacrifice and I’ve watched you grieve. I know what we are asking. I know the fear that comes with risking all you hold dear. Better than most, I know that…”

Rose met her gaze, both fighting tears. 

“But if Ragnarok happens again…that’s the end of everything. We need you. Without you… There is no one else who understands the intricacies of Time in a way that will be effective,” she said. “No one with a power similar to my Thor’s in their blood.” She took Rose’s hand. “No one else the wolf trusts.”

“W-what does that mean?” Rose asked, her voice wavering. Sif squeezed her hand. 

“You already know, drengr,” she said softly. “Trust yourself.” She then looked at the Doctor. “Why do you think the piece of the hammer was only activated after you touched it? You are the one, Doctor, it now answers to.”

His hearts stopped beating.

“I want Time out of the Realms,” he whispered bitterly. “I’m not much of a bargaining man, but if we do this, then that’s my price. That you leave it alone. Forever. The hammer will be destroyed when we’re done. You sever the ability to access the Vortex. You lot meddling with it in the first place is the reason any of this is possible. There is a reason there are laws. A reason -” 

“I understand,” Sif interjected. “Deal. But you and I both know, Doctor, that Time can be manipulated by anyone. In and of itself, it is not the problem. Greed and revenge are. Power is. I know that you see that difference. It is why you had to be the one to end the Time War - both of you - because you understand.”

Rose shook her head so fast it made her dizzy. “ But I didn’t fight in the Time War.” 

“Yes, you did,” the Doctor groaned, running a hand over his face, his mind piecing it all together so quickly he nearly fainted. When he closed his eyes all he saw was a bright gold light, memories swirling and dancing. Daleks and Jack Harkness and rubble; wires, and dirt and the TARDIS… Rose, standing in the center, burning .

“Everything must come to dust,” she’d whispered hauntingly. “All things. Everything dies. The Time War Ends…”

“ What are you talking about?” she demanded, her voice snapping his attention back to the room, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer her. Sif refilled their chalices. 

“Would you like to know more?’ she asked carefully. “Or would you like to rest for a while? I can show you to a room?”

“Tell us how we got here,” the Doctor insisted. “If the gates are sealed, then how the hell did we get through that portal?” 

“It was Fate, I imagine,” Sif said softly. “Dreamshade is one of the powerful tools in our arsenal. It’s how we stay connected with the other Realms. You willingly drank it, which allowed us to see your consciousness as you slept. That mirror is an old legend, crafted before Thor was born. I do not know where it is, only that Odin was gifted it by someone and then had to hide it once from old enemies. It is said to possess a mighty power. Whatever spells have been placed on it must have brought you here.”

For once, magic was the only thing that made sense. 

He looked at Rose, and his hearts rattled in his chest. 

It was absurd, what they were being asked to do. Unequivocally insane. Impossible, even. So unfair he wanted to rip apart the fabric of the universe himself at the moment just to prove a point. Which ordinarily meant he should say no, possibly even declare it to be too dangerous to try. To keep her safe. To hold on tight…

Except there was a small voice in his head, a northern one who once felt and tasted what Bad Wolf could do, that kept telling him to breathe. To think. That impossible was actually quite possible. Impossible was how she made her way back to him. Impossible is what Tyr called her. And while he was feeling things he couldn’t yet put a name to, was terrified out of his skin - even more so than he had been two months back, when Davros held his friends' lives in his hands - he knew they had to do this. It was a cataclysmic fixed point. 

He could taste it. He felt the way Time moved beneath his feet. Felt its connection to this Realm, and as much as he didn’t like it, that northern voice was his guiding light. His reason. And maybe there was a reason they had to have so much time apart. 

So that together , they could do the impossible. When there was no way out, but through .

The Stuff of Legend. 

So he took another berry, and plopped it in his mouth. 

“You’ll get Time out of here?” he asked again. 

“Yes.” 

He nodded slowly, then looked at Rose. “If she agrees… then so do I.” 

Sif stiffened. Rose twisted her earring, giving a wide, grateful smile that made him fall so much more in love with her he might as well melt on the floor. 

“I don’t think we have a choice,” she murmured. “But…I’d say yes, if we did.”

Sif let out a long breath of relief, then set two axes down on the table. 

“Then let’s begin.”

Chapter Text

The Doctor examined the axes thoroughly. Nordic symbols of strength were etched into the handles, and he flipped one in his hand, testing its weight and grip. A power radiated in them he couldn’t quite explain, and he fought every urge he had to scan them with the screwdriver, trusting that Sif would tell them what they needed to know. That was how they’d get through this - trust . And there was nothing he trusted more than the woman sitting beside him. As long as he had her… 

He decided he was done questioning what was possible. They said they’d help, and help they would. Not by doubting possibilities, but remembering that it wasn’t the first time he’d stopped a war. 

He was so focused on the axes he didn’t notice Rose’s face was paler than it had been a moment ago. 

“The first thing you should know,” Sif began. “Is that everyone in Asgardstrand, in all of Midgard for that matter, must know nothing of your task.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Humans can be meddlesome. Present company excluded,” she sighed. He smirked at Rose, but she didn’t have much of a reaction. “The less who know what we’re after, the better. That’s why we’ve spoken so cryptically to Astrid. They’ll want to help, which is honorable, but we can’t afford risks.”

“So we’re to go back to Midgard?” he asked, setting his ax down.

“Not right away. It will be a journey, make no mistake,” she said. “But eventually, yes, you will need to go back to Midgard. Your TARDIS is there, after all.”

“And the portal can’t take us back?” Rose whispered. 

“We don’t know where it is,” Sif admitted. “I did not recognize the cave in your dream. I wasn’t sure the mirror was even real until tonight.”

The Doctor sighed, and finally drank his wine. “Brilliant.”

“Okay…. so we should go to the other realms first, door to door?” Rose asked.

“Might be tough. People tend to argue with solicitors,” the Doctor mused, half-kidding. “I got the TARDIS egged once…”

Sif smirked.  

“Eggs or not, it’s what I would recommend,” she murmured, but before she said more, she noticed Rose begin to tremble. “Are you alright, drengr?”

“Mhm,” she moaned, but her face was ghost-white, and the pain she was hiding did not go unheard. Instantly, the Doctor was on his feet. 

“Stand up,” he said gently, helping her, but all she could do was bite her tongue as he pulled her leather jacket down and revealed the wound on her shoulder. Her dislocated bone was visible beneath her skin, possibly fractured, but definitely bruised and bleeding. “Oh, Rose…”

“I’m f-fine.”

“No you’re not. Eir will help,” Sif said urgently, running toward the door. “Wait here.” 

“I’m fine,” Rose insisted, but her vision was going cloudy, and the Doctor knew she was about to pass out from pain. A moment later she stumbled, clutching his lapels. She hissed. 

“Rose -

 “N-no. We have to focus on –”

“We’re taking care of you first,” he said fiercely. “Bloody hell, Rose. How many times do you need to get hurt before you tell me when you are?”

“I…” she moaned. “I d-dunno. It wasn’t this bad before. N-now it… it burns .”

He frowned, looking at her shoulder carefully. “You were in shock. Adrenaline’s wore off. The bleeding is what burns,” he whispered, rubbing her back. “I should have checked…. I’m sorry.”

She looked at him, her face pale and distraught, her whole body shaking. “This…doesn't f-feel like I’m b-bleeding.”

“What?”

The door swung open and Sif rushed in, followed by a woman with honey-brown skin. Eir, the Goddess of Healing, whose visions they saw in the flames during Sigurd’s ritual. Kindness radiated off of her, but she barely looked at the Doctor and she made no introduction. Eyes full of determination, she glided toward Rose, pulling her carefully out of the Doctor’s grasp. 

Unlike with Sigurd and Revna, he let her go. 

He watched as Eir studied the wound, her face unreadable. “Oh, the Jotnar’s strength is viscous,” she muttered. “What happened?”

“She was thrown into a pillar,” the Doctor explained. “During one of its blasts of ice. ”

“I see,” Eir said softly, then looked at Rose's face. “You’ll be alright, drengr. I need to reset the bone, which I can do without pain, so fret not. Then I’ll administer a touch of Forest Vine, which will heal the cut and stop the bleed. Then you’ll need rest.  I’ll help you to the room we’ve set aside for the both of you.”

“I’ll come, too,” the Doctor said. Eir shared a glance with Sif. 

“I understand my Lady has matters she wishes to discuss. Perhaps it's best if I work alone -”

“That’s not going to happen,” he said calmly, but the threat was unmistakable. It radiated in the room. So much so, that even Sif seemed to pause for a moment. 

“Doctor, stay ,” Rose whispered, touching his chest. “It’s not my head. It’s not an ax. I’m not dying. It’s a dislocated shoulder.” 

He clenched his jaw. 

She rolled her eyes.

“Fine. Suit yourself. But it’s rude to start correcting her technique, and I won’t stop her if she smacks you.”

And just like that, with her tongue on her lip, she unequivocally took his breath away. 

Because that was a sentence seemingly devoid of pain. A joke. A perfect, flirty, Rose Tyler special, when two minutes ago she’d been so far gone she nearly passed out. He looked her over slowly. The amount of color in her cheeks was surprising, especially since the wound was still deformed, bleeding, and bruised. He touched it gently, rubbing his thumb along her skin. 

She felt almost feverish. 

She winced.

“Does it still burn?” he whispered.

She nodded. 

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Something unspoken lingered between them. The sort of thing only years of separation can create. The kind of wordless bond death can ignite and love binds. He knew she understood, even if he couldn’t say it, that he needed her safe and he needed her to let him make sure she was. 

She nodded as Sif stepped forward, placing her hand on her other shoulder. “Rose, I’m sorry –”

“It’s not your fault,” Rose insisted, glancing at the Queen briefly. “Honestly, I’m fine. ” 

“You have a fiery spirit, drengr,” Eir said with a small grin. “But let's get you fixed up. Fine or not.”

“Blimey, immortals all sound the same, don’t you?” she teased. The Doctor swallowed, wanting to feel relief at her continued jokes, but unsure if she meant them. Perhaps she was just trying to make him feel better. Perhaps she wasn’t. He chose to play along, just a little, in case she needed the distraction.  

“Don’t look at me like that, Lewis. I’m not immortal.”

“Mmm. You basically are,” she said, and he shared a glance with Sif, who was smiling to herself behind her wine chalice. 

A moment later, though, Rose gasped sharply, gripping the edge of the chair she was standing beside. She stumbled, sweat brimming on her brow, and the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, but she swatted his hand away. 

“Rose –” 

She shook her head and she fluttered her lips, her eyes glued to Eir. “Which way is the room?”

“Hold my arm, I’ll show you,” the Goddess said. “Follow us, Doctor.”

As they crossed the threshold to a set of stairs, Sif reached for the Doctor, stopping him for a moment. 

“I doubt we’ll meet again now until tomorrow,” she said. “I have something for you.” 

He frowned, looking in the direction Rose had gone, when suddenly a variety of books were dropped in his arms, leather-bound and heavy. He cocked his eyebrow at Sif. “These are our histories. Every God. Every legend, as they actually happened. I thought you might like to study them.”

“I would,” he mused, glancing at a few of the covers. “If I can. Right now I need to go.”

Sif nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I have one piece of advice to offer, if I may.”

“Sure.”

She smiled gently. “When you tell her…make sure it counts.” 

“Tell her what?”

“What it is you so desperately wish to say.” 

The Doctor felt his hearts speed up, but he stayed perfectly still, because there was no way in hell (or Helheim, he supposed) that she could possibly know something so intimate about him. Something he’d never voiced out loud. Something that was his and his alone. So he chuckled, clutching the books to his chest. 

 “Who says I haven’t told her that?”

“I see much,” Sif said with a look in her eye he didn’t understand. “I know you haven’t.”

He swallowed. His feet shifted. 

“She knows.”

“Of course she knows,” Sif chimed. “Everyone who looks at you knows. All I can say is make sure it counts.”

He felt his Adam’s apple bob once, then twice. 

The door opened again, and Tyr came stumbling in, dropping his sword and a few other weapons on the floor before he waltzed straight to the wine and drank straight from the bottle. He wiped his golden face with the back of his hand, then collapsed into the seat beside Sif.

“That was one of the most annoying things I’ve ever had to do.” 

Sif sighed. “Here. Drink more.”

He did, only looking at the Doctor once the wine was practically empty. “I am sorry that was your welcome. Though I suppose it showed you the urgency of the situation. Has my sister filled you in?”

“Mostly,” Sif answered. “They know what is going on, and what they can do to help. We need to go over our next steps.” 

“And you are comfortable aiding us?” Tyr asked. “We will not force you.”

The Doctor shrugged.

“Better we aid you then let the universe implode, I reckon,” he muttered. “I should get that made into a bumper sticker. The TARDIS could do with a bit of redecorating.”

Tyr laughed, then seemed to notice the books the Doctor was still holding. “And where is your Rose?”

His hearts thumped at that - his Rose. 

“Healing,” Sif said simply, and before Tyr could ask any more questions, she smiled. “She’ll be perfectly fine. Eir is with her now. Occupational hazard. The Doctor was just going to be with her.”

“I’m sorry,” Tyr said seriously. The Doctor sighed.

“She’s not,” he muttered, pride and annoyance clutching his chest. “Is everything alright with the Jotnar?”

“The good news is that it seems Jotunheim has exhausted their resources for a while, so they shouldn’t be able to sneak through the gates anytime soon. Which means we have time to come up with a plan.”

“How do you know?” the Doctor asked. Tyr took another swig of his wine. 

“Oh, Doctor… If we start that now, we’ll be up all night. Later. Go to Rose.” 

The Doctor sniffed, then made his way toward the stairs, but he turned before he crossed the threshold. “I don’t like weapons,” he said seriously “For what it's worth.”

He gestured to the table, where the axes Sif had given them were still sitting. Tyr bowed his head. 

The Doctor could almost swear he was smiling. 

“Goodnight,” Sif said. “They’ll be at the end of the left hall, the farthest door.”

With that, he left. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

The view from the canopy bed she was laying on was immaculate - the entirety of not only the palace gardens, but all of the Asgardian city. Sunset washed the purple sky in hues of yellow, and she found herself focusing on that as Eir hovered her hands above her shoulder, whispering some sort of incantation. 

She definitely had a fever. A slight one, but still enough to make her feel hot when all she could do was shake. They’d disposed of her clothes - now strung across a chair near the ensuite. Synestra, who Eir had requested help from, was drawing a bath in an ornate tub. Rose had spent many trips without access to running water and stopped complaining about it years ago, but right now, despite her fever, the thought of soaking the last several days away was almost too exciting. Grimy didn’t begin to cover the layers of dirt caked to her from all the bleeding, horseback-riding, raiding, cave-in escaping, and best-friend-shagging she’d been doing, but more than that she suspected whatever was about to happen was going to test her in ways she couldn’t predict, and…well….

The bath sounded nice. Like a moment of calm. 

Before he was forced to unleash his Storm. 

Before she had to figure out how to be the key the wolf trusts. Whatever the hell that meant. 

She’d played it over and over in her head as Eir worked, every detail Sif shared. She couldn’t put words to what she felt, but she knew they couldn’t run. Sif needed and trusted them, and she knew they had to trust her, too. It was the only option, trust. The same sensation that followed her during her dimension hops, that told her she was on the right track. Like a whisper in the wind, a promise. She’d learned not to question it, but to let it guide her. 

Even if she had no idea how she could possibly do what was being asked of her. 

None at all. 

Then again, some small voice in her weary mind corrected, that was how she felt when testing the cannon. And again , when the darkness was falling and the stars began to go out. Not knowing had served her well, and maybe what would help was not questioning what was possible, but remembering it wasn’t the first time she’d stopped a war. 

Even if hers had been of the heart. 

For a moment, she remembered the last three years in agonizing detail. It was a battlefield, through and through. Trials and errors. Fights with her Mum, with Mickey. Days full of determination and pain. So much happened at Torchwood, a lot she hadn’t fully processed, but she knew she was strong. Mentality and physically, she’d practically become a woman of steel when she was working to get back to him. That would serve her well, probably. Maybe. Hopefully. 

If nothing else, he was the Doctor , and he was rather good at making things up as he went, wasn’t he? Almost annoyingly so. It turns out, so was she. She meant what she’d said earlier - she’d come a long way to prove what she was capable of. She wasn’t just Rose Tyler. She was an agent. A leader who had single handedly defeated hundreds of aliens with vengeance in their scales before she crossed universes. She nearly died more times than she’d ever admit, but didn’t .

She was strong. 

And suddenly this fever was royally pissing her off. 

There were conversations to be had with Sif and Tyr. Time was in peril and there was action to be taken. Too much was at stake. Too many things she’d fought too fucking hard for to risk losing over one bloke’s ego - God or not. She needed to move. She had to get down there and figure out how they were going to fight. 

But her body was betraying her - the fragile human that she was, and she couldn’t get off the bed. 

“Ow,” she hissed, gripping the sheet that was wrapped around her naked, bleeding body. Eir gave her a worried look, her hovering hands faltering.

“That hurt?”

“It burns a bit…”

“Still?” she asked. Rose nodded. Eir furrowed her brow, but then immediately grabbed a variety of herbs and tonics and mixed them in a small bowl. When she was done, she placed a soft hand to Rose’s forehead. “You are quite warm.” 

“You say that like it's not normal.”

“Not for a dislocated shoulder,” Eir muttered. “Do you feel pressure anywhere?”

“My head.”

“How much?”

Rose shrugged, not sure how to explain it. It wasn’t nearly as agonizing as when the wolf howls, but it was like a dull roar. A pressure headache, maybe. 

Eir began to do something else with her hands, moving them over her torso, watching Rose’s reaction carefully. 

“You crossed through a portal today, drengr. One that was only known to Odin. We’ve all wondered if it was a myth for many years. Even Sif does not the source of its power. Portals have risks. I do not like this fever.”

Rose smirked a little, sweat dripping down her cheek. “I’ve gone further before, trust me.” 

“I am well aware,” Eir said. “You love him very much, don’t you?”

Rose said nothing, which said everything. 

Eir smiled softly. 

“As admirable as your reunion was, my dear…Your dimension hopping may have made you more susceptible to whatever the portal did to get you here,” Eir said, brushing the wound with a salve. “At this point, you should not be feeling any pain. I’ll need to examine your blood.”

“So you know everything, then?” Rose asked. “About us, I mean.”

“We see much in Asgard,” Eir said softly. “Lay still.”

“What happens if there is something wrong?” Rose asked, watching her work. Eir squeezed her healthy shoulder. 

“One step at a time,” she said simply. Rose sighed. 

“Don’t tell the Doctor, yeah? If you find anything, just fix it and let him know I’m fine.”

“Has that ever worked before?” 

Rose gave her a sheepish, tongue in cheek smile. Eir pricked her finger, then fed the sample of blood into some sort of vial. As they waited, Synestra walked out, setting two warm, fluffy towels on a chair. 

“The bath is ready when you are, Dame Rose,” she said. “Do you need anything else? Because I don’t mean to rush off, but I should be briefed by Tyr about the Jotnar.”

“Of course. Go, please. Thank you,” Eir insisted. “Tell him I will be there as soon as I can.”

Synestra curtseyed, but as she went to leave the door opened, and Rose turned her head to see the Doctor setting the books in his arms on the floor. He nodded at Synestra, who slipped past him with a small smile, and the next thing Rose knew he was at her side, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“What are all those?” she whispered, eyeing the books. 

“Homework.”

Despite the situation, his chocolate eyes seemed to roam the sheet she was in like he could see through it before he looked at Eir, who gave him a small, welcoming smile. She asked Rose to sit up, helping her drink some sort of tea.

“How are you?” he asked. Rose shrugged, swallowing the tea.

“That was the last of the pain-relieving tonic she should need, hopefully,” Eir said. He locked eyes with Rose. 

“You’re still in pain?”

“Not really,” she lied. He ran a soft hand over her cheek, but frowned, and she knew he must be coming to the same conclusion as Eir about the fever when he looked at the Goddess with irate eyes. But she was hovering her hands over Rose’s shoulder again, and the chanting continued. 

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m checking something,” Eir said. He began to protest. 

“Her cells could be shredding. Molecular structures rewiring. Has she been talking?” 

“Yes.”

“Good. Tell me now, what do you see? ”

Rose squirmed, feeling so uncomfortable she wanted to crawl out of her skin. He gripped her hand, rattling on and on about all the possible side effects of portal hopping with an ever growing urgency that had him scanning and shaking her, but she couldn’t listen to it. The warmth she felt over her entire body swelled to a rate that made her feel like she was about to combust, the pressure headache more like an agonizing drum, when suddenly it stopped. 

And the heat began to concentrate on her shoulder alone, the tremors in her other muscles ceased. She didn’t know how, but she could tell the fever was breaking, and when she opened her eyes, it was like she was looking through them for the first time. 

Everything was a bit more focused . A little sharper . More real. 

Eir lowered her hands, her gaze shifting from Rose’s face to the wound, which was no longer bleeding. The cut, which had been open and fresh a moment ago, now looked like it was a few days old. The bone, while sore, was set and fixed in place. 

The Doctor held his breath as Rose began to sit up. 

“Is it any better?” the Goddess asked. 

Rose smiled widely. “Loads.”

He let out a breath she wasn’t sure he knew he’d been holding, then scanned her himself (again), the buzz of the sonic almost as loud as his heartbeats. When it was clear she was fine, he stood and held his hand to Eir. 

“Thank you.”

But the Goddess shook her head. 

“I didn’t do that,” she said seriously. “I think she did.”

All the air seemed to suck out of the room. 

“What do you mean?” Rose managed to ask, but Eir was examining the blood she’d dropped in the vial, clicking her jaw.  

“There is nothing wrong with your red cell count,” she stated ardently. “Nothing to suggest molecular poisoning. No evidence of any atomic disruptions… The portal didn’t touch you.”

“Let me see?” the Doctor asked, crossing to Eir and taking the blood out of her hands. She gave him a careful look.  

“My healing does not cause pain,” she said. “Rose felt much. And the fever did not make sense. Nothing was infected.”

“Shock can spike temperatures,” the Doctor countered, seemingly trying to offer any other solution before accepting what Rose suspected he already knew, if they look in his eye was any indication. 

“She was not in shock,” Eir murmured. He swallowed, scanning the vial with his screwdriver, only to hand it back to Eir with a curled eyebrow.  “Look at the wound, Doctor. I am a healer, not a miracle worker. Even Gods have limits. I can’t speed up the healing process to that degree. From what I can tell, she’ll be ready to use that arm again in an hour.”

“She’s fine.”

Eir nodded. “Yes.”

He sniffed, turning toward Rose, who was still wrapped in the sheet with her knees dangling over the edge of the large bed, trying to get a closer look at the vial they were looking at. He helped her stand, darting his eyes across her face as he took in the redness of her cheeks and the light in her eyes. He sniffed. Hard. 

“What did I do?” she asked Eir. The Goddess shook her head.

“I do not know,” she admitted. “Has anything like this happened before?”

“No,” Rose said, but the edges of the Doctor’s lips began to curl into an almost-smile. It was layered in feeling, though, alarm and confusion, as his eyes darted to her abdomen, his fingers skimming the spot she’d been sliced then dancing up to her ribs, right where the bruise falling from the horse used to be. He turned to Eir. 

“Tyrin is back,” he said. “He and Sif are meeting downstairs. We’ll join you all tomorrow.”

The Goddess raised her eyebrows at the sudden dismissal, but for some reason, did not object. 

“Goodnight, then,” she said, squeezing Rose’s arm once more as she left. The click of the door had the Doctor twisting Rose around so he could examine her shoulder from a new angle. She smirked when he licked her, but before she could make a saucy comment about sex from behind he was looking at the vial of blood, running his finger along her healing scar, comparing. 

His touch, for once, really was for science. 

“That’s impossible…”

She sighed. “Care to share with the class?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I need a portable blood test like this one for starters,” he said, only to clench his jaw when his tendency for deflection made the tension in the air stronger. Instead, he rubbed the scar that was forming on her skin slowly. “You’re fine.”

“I… healed myself?”

“I have no idea,” he said seriously, putting the vial down. “I don’t particularly need to know.”

She gave him a look like he was crazy, but he cupped her cheek and kissed her slowly. His desperation lingered on her tongue, fluttering out in a sigh when she pulled away and ran to the mirror at the other end of the room, the sheet trailing behind her. 

“It’s… Oh my God... What?!” she shouted, sounding almost like him, and he smiled at his feet. “H-how?”

“Dunno. But your bruise went away far too quickly as well,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the dip of her neck. “For once, Rose…I don’t want to question it.”

“You said that was the Oil of Serenity -”

“It’s all that made sense at the time,” he whispered, kissing her skin again. “You heal when you get hurt. That’s good enough for me.”

She almost told him how much pain she was in before this miraculous and weird turn of events, but she was afraid he would panic, so she stayed silent. 

He kissed her neck once more, his grip tightening. “I will run a proper test on the TARDIS. Several, if we need to. But I’ve checked your vitals. Nothing is wrong.” She locked eyes with him in the mirror. “That’s… I’ll take it. If this means you might be safe against a bloody God… then it’s good enough for me.” 

“But I want you safe,” she said seriously, twisting in his arms until she was facing him. “I…”

He darted his eyes across her face, watching as she fluttered her lips and looked over at the ensuite. 

“You know what. Come with me,” she whispered, wiggling her fingers in the way she only ever did for him, and he wasn’t sure what was happening suddenly as he followed her to the bathtub. The room was lavish, made entirely of marble and gold, and an intoxicating floral scent filled the air. He couldn’t help but notice bottles of wine and fresh candles adorned the counters - almost as if Synestra expected them to turn this into something romantic or worse, or that there was enough space in the tub for both of them, if… well…

 “Strip,” Rose said suddenly, and he smirked. 

“Commanding.”

“We’re taking a bath,” she said. “Together. For a little while, Doctor, I don’t want to think, okay?” He nodded, his eyes falling to her lips as her tongue darted out, and she made use of his tie. His breath hitched when she dropped it on the floor. “I just want to wash your hair, maybe.”

“You want to… sorry, you want to wash my hair?”

“It’s really great hair.”

It was almost comical the way desire filled the room suddenly. 

He began to undo the buttons on his shirt. One by one. 

She watched. 

“I can think of… three, no… seven places of yours I’d like to wash, Rose Tyler,” he purred, sliding his sleeves off. “Eight if you behave.”

“Don’t I always?”

His smirk grew manic, and she tugged at her earring, looking down at his trousers. 

“I’m not showing you a thing until you’re naked.”

“Tsk. How is that fair?”

“It’s not, but it’s fun,” she hummed, the look in her eye one of pure lust and love, and he felt his need reach an embarrassing level. How could not, when she looked at him like that ?

Blimey, this bloody human. 

This precious woman. 

He wasted no time stripping then, and once the match was set she dropped her sheet in one fell swoop, revealing all the places he wanted to wash. Every single one - and then some.

“Fuck, Rose…”

But she was on her knees with her mouth around him, and he forgot what else he was going to say. 

He forgot everything, in fact. As if he was under the influence of the Chameleon Arch, all he could remember in that moment was her - his pink and yellow human, the beautiful face that guided his dreams even when his own name was gone. He grunted as she sucked and bobbed and worked his length in her hand, mesmerized by her, watching her, committing the sounds of appreciation she made to memory, because once again the light she radiated was brighter than any star. 

He was close. 

“Ah-aaah, oh, fuuu-” 

She moaned into his skin, sending a shiver through him, and he began to tremble. 

“Rose, s-stop. I’m gonna…”

She pulled away, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “I want you to.”

Mouth hanging open, panting, he shook his head. “Get in the water.”

She smiled. “All that’s gonna do is get us clean ,” she said, stroking him again. His back arched. “Which I want to do. Have lots of plans to do, in fact. But first I was thinking of getting you off right here, then letting you shag me senseless over that counter and then –” 

“Get in. The water.”

The husky tone of his voice had her obeying, far too turned on and curious to see what he had in mind. 

Turns out, it was jets. 

And it turns out, they worked quite well. 

She was two orgasms in when he finally turned them off, kissing her deeply, his own release having ripped through him like a tidal wave after he nothing short of railed into her. The water, now, was a perfect temperature and possibly enhanced with some Esir magic, because every dripping swirl of sex and dirt and blood that fell from their bodies was immediately disposed of and replaced with fresh soap and bubbles. 

It was a moment of calm. 

Just them, the way it should be. 

And in that calm, he couldn’t get enough of her. He lowered his attention to her breasts, sighing as she wrapped her fingers in his hair. 

“How do you think it works?” she whispered after a few moments, shuddering under his touch. 

“What?” he asked, still licking and rubbing. 

“The healing.”

He stopped. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to hers, and without saying a word shifted until he could tuck her body against his, both sated enough to not be completely overcome by the brushing of their skin for once. Even still, he smiled a little when she leaned her head on his chest. 

“I have no idea,” he admitted in her ear. She bit her lip. “It’s alright, though. If you were showing any symptoms of anything it would be a different story, but I ran a million tests after you were sliced by that ax, and you are -” 

“I’m not worried about me ,” she said in a way that made his hearts stop. “‘s just… Do you think I could share it? Whatever it is?”

He stiffened. “Why?”

Her fingers caressed his as she looked at his hand, shrugging. “The last time I dealt with Bad Wolf directly you regenerated.”

He began to shake his head to deny it, but she swatted his arm. 

“You already said you did, don’t,” she scoffed. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

He tilted his head, puckering his lips. “Because it’s what I wanted. Because it was time to go. Because, well… there was no sense in fretting about it. Or letting your mother fret about it. ”

“She would have called you mental or worse.”

“She already did that.”

Rose smiled softly, nibbling on her lip, a pang of something slicing her chest when she realized they were speaking of her in past tense, but she ignored it. “I just…” 

“Look at me,” he said softly. “I made my choice, and it was the right choice.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever happens, Rose… You don’t need to worry about me.”

She sighed, letting him take hold of her hand completely before he squeezed it once, then twice. “Blimey, why does that so familiar? You made your choice, you said …” 

He gave her a look. “I can regenerate, Rose. You can’t. Do not - and note I’m saying this slowly not because I think you won’t understand but so I know I’ve said it - do not do anything reckless out there because you’re –”

“Well, we don’t even have to worry about it, do we?” she said, twisting to face him, the water rippling behind her. “It's not gonna come to that. I just need you to know that I will do everything I possibly can to keep you from using that hammer. And you can’t tell me not to.”

He stared at her, a rawness in his eyes she’d never quite seen before, but he merely winked. “Why would I? You never listen to me anyway.”

“You ramble,” she said as her tongue poked between her teeth. “I want you safe . My Doctor. Okay?”

The parallel images in his mind - her now, naked and commanding, and then, golden and afraid- made him shudder. “Okay.”

“And you want me safe?”

“Yes.”

She nodded. “Then I guess we’ll just have to do a really good job. Be like the Gods or something.”

He smiled a little, brushing her wet hair off her healing shoulder, staring at it for a moment before he tucked his fingers under her chin. When they locked eyes, the rest of the world stopped.

“Oh, Rose Tyler. We’ll write an anthem worth repeating.”

And that was that. 

So he reached for a shampoo bar on the edge of the tub and held it out, wiggling his eyebrows as she smiled and sat on his lap, her skin glistening with water. “Really?”

“Do your worst,” he murmured with a wink. “Or, well… I’d prefer your best , but -”

“Shut up.”

With a smile, she lathered the shampoo down to his roots, giggling as he shuddered. 

Then moaning, as he had her coming a third time before they washed it out.

Chapter Text

That night, he watched her sleep. 

Her breathing was even. Her fever, gone. It gave him the same comfort it always did, knowing she was alive and well in his arms; that her air was his air, even as his stomach swooped. Even as he traced a finger across her completely healed shoulder. Even if it made him want to sigh. 

He didn’t need to know. 

Except he did . 

He couldn’t admit that to her. Not yet. They couldn’t afford to question it until the TARDIS was accessible, and he couldn’t allow himself to form theories that would inevitably distract him, either. As long as she continued to be perfectly fine and perfectly Rose , there was nothing to worry about, right? But call it an instinct or the result of 900 years of time and space, he couldn’t shake the feeling something was stirring, something unseen and unknown, and that no matter how much he searched the archives of all that is and all that was and all that ever could be, he wouldn’t know what it was until it was obvious, staring him in the face…

But she heals when she is hurt. 

And that had to count for something. 

He closed his eyes, breathing her in a little more deeply, swallowing a moan as her scent filled his lungs. How was she always so bloody intoxicating? She always had been, but it was different now after multiverses, and he found she was always right beside him and never close enough. Tonight was no exception. Four combined orgasms, and he was still nearly waking her up and ravishing her again until the stars sang her name, too, until he could remind himself just how fine she was, just how alive , in his arms, breathing his air… 

He swallowed hard, gazing at her calm face as she continued to sleep, and when the urge to kiss her began to sting his lips he decided enough was enough. She needed to sleep. She’d done the impossible somehow, so he grabbed one of the books Sif had given him and lit a candle. He’d read beside her, of course, refusing to be anywhere but where she was, but so help him if he didn’t distract himself… 

With his glasses on his nose, he began to study.

The first volume was short - a retelling of the Nine Realms and their origins. It was a story he was relieved to see he already knew, because maybe that meant he didn’t need as many lessons as the Queen seemed to think he did. The realms were the branches of the ash tree Yggdrasl, which sprouted during the formation of the universe deep from a pocket of the Void itself, when, according to legend, “time and matter mated with fate and virtue.” The ‘ashes’ were technically stardust that connected the tree to the wider universe, and was protected by Esir magic, which might explain why he’d never been able to confirm its existence, but a handwritten addendum from Tyrin confirmed that it was burned during Ragnarok, though the realms remain, as well as the Void, which the book referred to as ‘Ginnungagap’. 

He tucked that nickname away for a clever rhyme the next time he sent an obnoxious alien to a spaceless grave.

There were several stories about various Gods that, luckily, he also already knew. Harrowing journeys, fearless adventures, lovers’ quarrels. Sex and murder and battles. It kept him engaged for a while, but it wasn’t new, and he was just about to give up and give sleep a chance when he flipped to the final page of one of the larger books, and the air in the room thickened. 

Hand-drawn, beautiful, and large, was a diagram of the cosmos.

It was a perfect map. Stunning. The entirety of the Milky Way danced at his fingertips. The only discrepancy he could find was in the constellation Lupus, and he brought the candle closer to try and get a better look. Lupus, in its origin, meant wolf , a fact that was not lost on him, and he couldn’t help but frown at two stars that were drawn in the center of the constellation, so bright they looked like the sun. They had been carefully painted. Adored , even. They were beautiful, yet wrong, intriguing, and… well…

He flipped the map over, and felt his hearts drop.

There was a small note from Sif scribbled at the bottom of the page, and it made his stomach twist. 

Stars hold legends. Odin drew this as a gift for Thor on his fifth birthday. It used to sit in our bedroom. Study wisely. 

He dropped the book. 

Then reached for one about Odin next. 

Perhaps the most important fact was that as a young man, the God of Wisdom gave one of his eyes in exchange for insight into the unknown. As ruler of the Nine Realms, that ability allowed him to see what others could not, guiding decisions that would protect not only Asgardians, but all who remained loyal to him. It also gave him the ability to see prophecies, like the ominous one that said Fenrir would be his undoing. The problem was that without giving up his eyesight entirely, his knowledge of the future was limited, and the Doctor couldn’t help but sigh when he read that Odin did not know what killing the wolf would ignite, and that with Ragnarok, the prophecy was fulfilled. 

It was almost human, how easily hubris could overshadow reason. 

It reminded him of Rassil–

Oh, he pushed that thought away immediately . 

Refocusing, he studied every word carefully, taking a special interest in whatever new facts appeared. It was almost irritating how many times it was mentioned that Odin held a deep affection for wolves and how he refused to go anywhere without them. There were several excerpts about battles he’d won and the armies he commanded, which were important he supposed, as well as his relationship with Freya and Thor, and the Doctor rubbed his jaw when he learned that Freya nearly died giving birth. Nothing was explicit, but he could only assume that Loki’s adoption, which legend claimed happened after a battle in Jötunheim , came from that. Be it guilt, or shame, or generosity, no one knew why they adopted the small blue boy, only that they shielded his identity from him until the story Sigurd told them came to be. 

And when Ragnarok was at its peak, Odin was killed by his adopted boy, while Thor sacrificed himself to save everyone else. 

He flipped the page, ready to read more, when dried tear marks caught his eye. Puddles of them, all stopping at Thor’s name, and his hearts stopped. 

How many times had Sif read this? 

Was she where he was once? Lonely enough to try and drown in the Thames? Did she want them to fight not only for the sake of the universe, but so that what she’d lost was gone not in vain? Could Gods be that… human ? 

He turned out to be, sometimes. When it mattered. When Rose needed him to be… so who was he to judge?

He shook his head, because one thing was suddenly glaringly obvious. Everything she was asking of them was more personal than she’d even realized perhaps, and while he’d already committed himself to try, the vulnerability washed on the page made him want to stop at nothing to succeed. Because he knew, in an intrinsic way, what led Thor to leave her behind. 

He’d done it to Rose, once. Sacrificed himself. He’d do it again, should the need arise. If it kept her safe. 

Which meant he’d fight. 

He glanced down, brushing a finger over Rose’s arm, but she was still sleeping so soundly he couldn’t bring himself to wake her. The longer he stared, though, the more his hearts were pulled toward memories he didn’t want to think about, and the book felt heavy on his lap. 

Slowly, he set it to the side and slid his hand onto Rose’s thigh, looking out the window. 

He frowned. 

The view of Asgard, which had been comforting and exquisite at first, was… different somehow. The sky, with the lights of the city reflected in it, was suddenly far too orange for his liking, the smoke from unassuming chimneys too close to charred soot, and bile rose in his throat. All he could hear were the screams in Arcadia. He ran to the windows and drew the curtains shut, but all he could smell was burning flesh, and all he could see was the Daleks  –  

“Doctor?”

Her voice snapped him out of it, and he looked at her, watching as she slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes. 

“Hi,” he said almost desperately, stepping away from the window. “I’m sorry. Did the candles wake you?”

“No, ‘course not,” she yawned. “What time is it?”

“Late,” he whispered, shrugging. “Or, erm, early, I suppose. Depends how you look at it.”

“Have you slept?”

He sniffed, pushing the books away as he laid down next to her and cupped her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

He knew his deflection did not go unnoticed, but to his relief, Rose didn’t push it. She simply kissed his palm and shrugged. “Better. Loads better, actually.”

“Good,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb across her skin. She sighed. 

“Sigurd is gonna think we abandoned him.”

He blinked. “Maybe.” Truthfully, he’d barely thought about that man since arriving. “It’ll be fine. When we succeed, he’ll forgive us.”

She bit her lip, sighing as he wrapped both of his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. Her scent overpowered everything yet again, and he couldn’t resist brushing his fingers across her cheek, kissing her shoulder. Her breathing, to his delight, grew ragged, and he dared to venture further, moving his lips to her neck, but before his hands could knead her breasts she sat up and gave him a look that normally had him bracing himself for a slap. 

“What –?”

“Were you ever gonna tell me I fought in the Time War?”

The breath slipped from his lungs. He stiffened.  

“Erm. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

“No. Tell me now.”

Flashes of orange. Puffs of smoke. The sound of ‘exterminate’. It all flooded back, and his body grew so rigid he feared it might snap. He opened his mouth, trying to answer her, to deflect, even, but all that came out was a gruff sigh of frustration. Something about it made her sit up more and study him with a scrutiny that made him want to pull the duvet over his head, but he somehow managed to hold her gaze. 

“Rose...” 

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice so tender it made his throat tighten. He nodded. 

“Yep. Always.”

“Doctor –” 

“I’ll tell you everything. I swear. Just not right now,” he whispered. Then, he patted his chest. “Come back here.”

She watched for a few more moments before she leaned down, and as hard as he tried to will them to stop, his hearts were thumping against his ribs. But Rose - his clever human - stilled them, placing her warm hand on his chest and digging her nails into his hair. He swallowed hard, feeling his Adam’s apple bob, but all she did was lean in closer. 

“I always come back.”

He smiled, air filling his chest once more. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “That you do.”

Her answering smile had him kissing her softly at first, but it grew deeper, his body soon covering hers as the urgency of it brought goosebumps to her skin, and he pulled away when she started to whimper, his forehead pressed to hers. 

Sif’s advice suddenly rang in his ear  – “ when you tell her, make sure it counts.”

Well, now was as good a time as any, wasn’t it? 

But when he opened his mouth to speak, she pressed her finger to his lips. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I came back to you.”

Oh, she knows. 

Perhaps it should be alarming, how often their need for one another overpowered all else. No matter how many times a day an orgasm rippled through them it was never enough, and he had his fingers at her center moments later, sliding and gliding and pumping and – 

There was a knock at the door.

She groaned into the pillow. 

“They’ll go away,” he mumbled, repeating his previous stroke. “Look at me.”

She bit her lip when he flicked, but the knock repeated, this time with the slight clearing of someone’s throat, and they both glanced at the door. A note slid underneath, and the Doctor sighed when Rose pulled herself away and ran to it, grabbing a dressing gown from a chair and wrapping it around herself, opening it. 

“It’s from Synestra,” she said. “She says breakfast is ready. We’re to change into the clothes she left us and meet Sif and Tyr for a briefing.”

“She left clothes?”

“I dunno,” Rose replied, walking to the window and absent mindedly pulling the curtains open, as if proving to herself it was in fact morning. 

The Doctor held his breath until he saw the gentle glow of sunrise. 

Yellow. Not orange. 

Breathing properly for the first time all night, he crawled out of bed and opened the door, ready to call after Synestra, but instead he found two parcels wrapped in gold paper with their names written on them. The clothes, if he had to guess. Rose took hers, and he gently peeled the paper away on his own, revealing a pressed suit that Sif had seemingly tailor-made for him. It wasn’t unlike the blue suit he occasionally wore, actually; a bit more vibrant, perhaps, though there was one startling difference -  even without putting it on he could feel the power that radiated off it. 

Rose, when she opened hers, gasped. 

The base was a white dress, soft in her hands. An exquisite corset that doubled as armor was meant to go on top, as well as a belt lined with various sorts of slots for weapons, tonics, and… arrows. A lot of arrows. There was an ornate cloak designed to drape over her shoulders, making the dress feel somehow like a warrior's uniform and a princess’s ball gown all in one. Layers of fabric meant to keep her warm billowed below the waist, yet they were framed in a way that seemed to create a shadow-like silhouette. Touching it made her hands tingle, and she dropped it to the floor. 

“What is –”

“It’s magic, I think,” he whispered. “Mine feels that way, too.” She locked eyes with him through the mirror.  “Though… yours is much prettier.” She didn’t say anything. She simply picked the dress back up and examined it. He cleared his throat. “Are you ready?”

She laughed breathlessly. “Are you?”

No. But he wasn’t going to tell her that. 

Instead, he quirked an eyebrow, stripping down as she ogled, and with a satisfied grin slipped on the blue suit. He was certain he’d never worn a finer piece of clothing, but before he could say anything about it he looked back at Rose, and all words fell away as she fastened the dress into place. Then the corset. And the belt. 

And she looked, dare he say it, like a Valkyrie. More than a warrior or a princess. 

Perfect. 

Strong. 

She heals when she is hurt. 

Devilish - that was the only way to describe the smile she gave him, and his cheeks flushed, remembering what he was doing before they were interrupted. Suddenly half hard and yearning, he leaned down to kiss her once, then twice, but she pulled away before it could get too heated, wiggling Synestra’s letter. 

“Come on. Can’t keep the God’s waiting.”

“No, I suppose not.” He took her hand, an electric current of promise coursing through them. Time pulsed beneath his toes, and despite himself, he smiled. “Allons-y, Rose Tyler.”

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

The amount of food on the table was ridiculous. 

The Doctor fought the urge to roll his eyes as he sat down in front of it, studying the vast quantities of fruits, meats, and breads. Sif, who was stirring a cup of tea without touching it, watched, her finger moving in a circle a few centimeters above the rim. 

She smiled. 

“The clothes fit.” 

He smirked. “You work quickly.”

“We’ve been preparing for you for some time.” Sif took a sip of her tea.  “How did you both sleep?”

“Fine,” the Doctor lied, picking up a banana, eyeing the plates carefully.  “I reckon you could feed a village with what you’ve got here.”

“We feed several . Now eat, smartass. You will need your strength,” Tyr said from the corner of the room, guzzling down his own plate of various carbs and vegetables. “And try the almond bread. It’s an Asgardian specialty.”

The Doctor chuckled. 

“How are you feeling, dear Rose?” Sif asked quietly, watching her as she began to nibble on some sort of sausage. If Eir mentioned anything about her miraculous healing, the Goddess did not say. Rose nodded. 

“I’m better, yeah.” 

“Good. I am very pleased to hear it,” Sif replied, sipping her tea again. “I wish we could spend the day in comfort, but time is too precious to waste. Do you have any questions about what we talked about last night?”

“You left a note,” the Doctor said. “A map of the galaxy… Some gift Odin gave Thor?”

Sif took a sip, laughing lightly. “I thought a man of your talents would enjoy that.”

“You said to study it wisely.”

“And I take it you have,” Sif replied. “Keep it. Until you no longer need it.”

Unspoken words lingered in the air. If Sif was going to tell them why they needed it , the Doctor knew she would, and she clearly wasn’t. Which he supposed he should take to heart, even if the Gods were turning out to be just as cryptic as Time Lords. Even it was aggravating him to his core.

 Rose gave him a look, and he nodded - a silent promise he’d show her the note later. 

“We need you to leave as soon as you can,” Sif said, breaking their eye contact. Rose sat up straighter. 

“To one of the realms?”

“The first thing we need to do is make a plan of attack, then get them the rest of their armor,” Tyr interjected. When Sif glared, he sighed. “Don’t look at me like that. Some of the realms may be less welcoming than others, sister. We must act with caution, not haste.”

“If you are concerned about Jötunheim, we already plan for them to venture there last. They will need as many pieces of the hammer in their possession as possible before they attempt such a raid,” Sif snapped, her royal voice echoing. The Doctor and Rose exchanged a glance. Sif sipped her tea. “Though… I suppose Helheim might be difficult as well.”

“Oh fucking Hel ,” Tyr groaned. 

“Hel is friendly enough.”

“Like hell she is. I do not trust her.”

Rose bit her lip, and whispered to the Doctor, “Is Hel a person or a place?”

“Both,” he murmured. “Helheim is their version of Hell, the place. Yet Hel, the Goddess, rules it.” 

“Precisely,” Sif said, and they both looked at her, almost surprised she could hear them.  

“Don’t forget the best part,” Tyr said, licking his fingers of his breakfast. “She’s also Loki’s daughter. The Serpent’s sister. Your bloody niece .” 

“Yours too, by proxy,” Sif said bitterly. Tyr grumbled. “She can be ruthless,” she added, looking toward Rose and the Doctor. “And she won’t be happy when you come knocking. My brother is right. Armor will be needed.”

“She’ll… raise hell?” Rose asked. For a moment, nothing, then both Gods smiled at her. Tyr winked. “If she’s his daughter, wouldn’t she give her piece of the hammer to Loki? Why even bother going to her?” 

“She wouldn’t, not without a bargain,” Sif assured her. “If the Jotnar are still doing his bidding, then Loki isn’t strong enough to ask her for it himself. Besides, they have a fraught relationship, so I am not sure he’d try. Not without strength.”

“Speaking of the Jotnar,” the Doctor said, looking at Tyr. “You said they won’t be able to come back for a while.” 

Tyr shrugged. “It’s a hunch.” 

“On what basis?”

"I invoked the Rights of Saꝺir,” he stated. When the Doctor opened his mouth, Tyr spoke as if he knew what his question was. “There is no equivalent in Midgard, but it's an Asgardian ritual, of sorts. I suppose you might say it acts as a ‘truth serum’. Odin was the one who used it most, and very few have been successful since he…” he trailed off, sharing a look with Sif. Then, he sighed. “But some part of his soul must have been with me, because it worked. Both of the Jotnar had no choice but to answer me honestly. They spoke in riddles, the beasts, but from what I could decipher, it seems they are still struggling to break the doors. They simply need more of the hammer.”

Something akin to frustration and determination settled in Rose’s stomach. She agreed with Sif - why the hell were they sitting here talking instead of getting a start on the very long list of impossible tasks that had been laid before them? Time, as she knew, wasn’t exactly slowing down. It never did. 

They had to act. 

So, she rested her chin in her palm and looked right at Sif. “What do we need to do now ?” she asked with authority, as if talking to her team at Torchwood. The Doctor felt a swell of pride. “How do we get started?”

“Finish eating,” Sif said. “Grab anything you need from upstairs - the books, your axes… Then follow me.”

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

Asgard was just as spectacular outside of the palace. 

Rivers flowed beneath the arches and pillars that fashioned the city; all decorated with long tapestries in royal colors. Like the hall in Asgardstrand, ornate carvings were crafted into each one, each telling a different story of the Gods and Goddesses that both surrounded them and had been lost. It was nothing like any planet they’d ever been to, and Rose watched as everyone and everything bowed to Sif in reverence; as if the burden she bore never went unnoticed, as if the losses she suffered were felt amongst all. 

The Goddess held her head high as they walked, her gaze focused. Rose glanced over at the Doctor, but he was doing what he always did, marveling at their surroundings with peaked interest. 

For the first time in days, despite what lay ahead, despite whatever it was they were literally walking to do, it felt like it used to. Like she’d hoped it would when she crossed that dimension. Just for a moment. 

“Hello,” she purred, snuggling up next to him. Their hands slipped together, but at the same time they both seemed to notice the large rainbow bridge they were walking under. One that must start in the center of the city and continue toward a mountain pass in the distance. Before Rose could ask about it, the Doctor chuckled. 

“Bifröst,” he said with unguarded awe. “The path between Asgard and the other realms. Protected by Heimdell, the royal guard and gatekeeper.”

“It used to be,” Tyr murmured behind them, and they turned sharply, the temporary spell breaking. “After Ragnarok, once Sif locked the realms behind the gates… Well...Bifröst has not been needed for some time. Heimdell protects us, but he no longer keeps watch like he used it. That bridge is nothing more than colorful decor.” 

“Until today?” Rose asked carefully. Tyr merely gave her a smile.

“If the Wolf says that’s the path to take.”

“How will I know what the Wolf says?” she asked carefully. Tyr shrugged. 

“If I knew the answer to that, Loki would have been stopped long ago,” he mused. “You are the key. I imagine only you will know.” She shared a look with the Doctor. “Truly, drengr, I am a handsome, smartly dressed warrior. All I know is that before you try anything, before you go anywhere, you’ll need armor. And so armor is where we go.”

“Stop dallying,” Sif called from several meters ahead, and they rushed to catch up to her. “We are entering the Holy Grounds. We must be quiet.” 

They passed under an archway, and suddenly the air felt thicker. It was like stepping through a veil, something in the breeze velvety and soft. It was the most gorgeous part of Asgard so far, and Rose couldn’t help but smile - until she noticed the cairns along the pathways and trees. 

Graves. 

“What is this place?” she whispered.

“This is the Holy Grounds, where we come to pay tribute to those in Valhalla,” Sif explained. “To honor them, we do not speak.” 

With that, she kept walking, and Rose bit her lip. The Doctor gave her a look that might as well have been a laugh, and she rolled her eyes. 

They continued on through the fields until they reached a building that reminded Rose of a mausoleum. Its marble walls were also lined with pillars and ancient markings, and she held back her shock when Sif pulled a dagger from her pocket and sliced her own palm, then placed it on the stone until it was washed red with blood. 

The Goddess recited something in a language they couldn’t understand. A language the TARDIS was probably too far away to translate. A language that felt other-worldly and impossible. 

Rose’s eyes widened when the door didn’t open, but melted away. 

Sif stepped aside, still silent, but gestured for them to walk in first.  

A long, shadowy hallway stood before them. When the Doctor and Rose didn’t move, Tyr entered, grabbing a hold of a torch he lit with a snap of his fingers, and they followed closely behind. It was well-kept and clean, also made of marble and stone, yet it was unlike everything they’d seen so far. There was something about the hallway that felt cautious and cold, and the Doctor refused to let go of Rose’s hand. 

A loud boom echoed around them, indicating the door had somehow reappeared and more than likely locked behind them. 

“We may speak now,” Sif whispered. “Come.” 

There were no guards. Just the long hallway and what seemed like endless darkness, but they weaved through it, turning and twisting through the corridors until Tyr stopped at another door. 

This time, the Doctor could decipher the symbols carved into its frame - the Elder Futhark. 

“The Wolf, The Serpent, and the Light,” he murmured, scanning his sonic screwdriver over them. “Where are we?” 

“Odin’s Library,” Sif replied softly. “For each realm, you will need certain pieces of armor. Things we once took for granted. Artifacts I hid that were once so common, Odin and Thor would never have thought to lock them away….” 

The sadness in her voice nestled between the Doctor’s hearts. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Sif merely smiled gently. 

“Thor, Loki, and myself were all given Odin’s blessing,” Sif said, clearly moving on before emotions could take hold. “That rite was woven into our blood and could not be undone. We were the only ones with unlimited access. For so long, anyone else who wished to enter this vault needed Heimdell’s permission. This is where…”

Sif sighed, placing a hand on the door. 

“Heimdell set up so many alerts after Ragnarok, just in case…. In case anyone ever tried to break through the gates and come here. But somehow that night, no alarms went off. Loki stole the helmet. He walked right in… We thought he was dead… ”

“You can’t blame yourself for any of that,” Rose said, and Sif stiffened a little when she touched her shoulder. “

“So he has left the Void,” the Doctor said bitterly, ignoring the look of irritation Rose gave him for saying something inconsiderate when the Queen clearly needed comfort. “At least for a few minutes.”

“I don’t know,” Sif admitted.  

“But we do know he’s there again,” Tyr said firmly. “And that is what matters. Rose is correct, saeta. All of that in the past. You cannot hold onto blame. There is a war brewing, and we need to send them on their way. We should go inside.”

With a flutter of her lips, Sif nodded. The Doctor stared back up at the symbols on the archway - the Wolf, the Serpent, and the Light - watching as Sif began to recite another incantation and they began to glow.  

Once again, the large door melted away, and they stepped inside. 

“This is a library?” Rose gawked. Tyr grinned. 

Technically, there were books. Thousands of them, it seemed, but there was so much more to look at that neither the Doctor or Rose knew where to begin. Weapons and stones and clothing, tapestries and statues…

The Doctor took one step toward the center of the room before he felt it. 

A hollowness. A vastness. 

A tingle on his skin. 

A knot gripped his stomach. 

This was a tingle he knew. A tingle he never bothered to explain because he hoped Rose wouldn’t ever feel it. But when she shot him a look that mirrored his own, he knew that despite his best efforts to protect her, she understood.  

“I reckon,” he began, slipping his arm around her waist. “If I had a certain pair of glasses right now…”

“I know,” she finished, looking down at her own hands, squeezing them as if they tingled, too. “Mickey figured it out. The more exposed you are to Void Stuff, the more you sense its presence. I came back from one of the dimension tests and felt like my skin was crawling. We ran every test, but it’s like a tattoo now. Whenever I come in contact with it, this happens.”

It was as if the particles on her skin were calling out toward whatever was in this room, saying me too, me too…

“Mickey figured that out?” the Doctor said, trying to lighten the tension that had very much settled in the room. Tyr gave them both a look. 

“What is it?”

“Background radiation that clings to those who travel through the Void,” Rose explained, tucking her hand back to her side. “He may have left something here. We should be very, very careful.” 

“We’ve searched this library many times,” Tyr said. “If there was a trap, we’d have found it.”

“Maybe it wasn’t a trap for you,” the Doctor realized grimly, his grip on Rose tightening. Tyr rolled his eyes. 

“We are Gods, if there is a dark presence here, we would know.” 

“Maybe. But have you ever been to the Void?” Rose asked. Tyr’s silence was all she needed. “Right. Well, God or not, you wouldn’t have noticed this, then.” 

“It’s not dangerous. Or dark,” the Doctor explained. “Not by itself. Void Stuff is exactly as it sounds. Just stuff . It could be nothing more than Loki’s former presence lingering in the air. It would have taken a lot of power to break out of the Void and come here. It should have killed him, in all honesty. But we should be careful. Like Rose said.”

“You need seven pieces of armor,” Sif interjected. “Let’s just worry about that. One thing at a time.” 

Tyr’s frustration carried through the corridors they walked through, but they were indeed careful. They watched their step, they didn’t touch anything unless Sif did. They listened. They waited. 

Nothing happened. 

Minutes that felt like hours, but eventually Sif approached a glass case, carefully removing and handing each of them a small token. 

“These are for Svartalvheim. The dwarves value gold. They will not shy away from Asgardian treasure. Offer it to them, and in the ways of Old, they will help you,” she explained.  

“I thought you said we needed armor,” the Doctor huffed. Tyr nodded. 

“Not all armor is worn, drengr.” 

More items were given to them. A small music box was to be played upon arrival in Alfheim. A tablet that was once crafted in fire was to act as their map through Muspelheim. Real armor was given too - a cloak to shield them from the cold of Nifelheim, the foggy realm between life and death. They each sheathed swords for Helheim that would give them strength that matched Hel’s. For Valhalla, they were given Sif’s engagement ring - a symbol of who sent them, and a promise to return. To give it back. 

For good measure, they were given a few other things. Enchanted bows with arrows that would never run out. Healing tonics. Packs for sleeping and camping. After Tyr was convinced they would be comfortable and well-equipped, they continued on to their last room. 

“That leaves Jötunheim,” Sif announced as they crossed the threshold. Room wasn’t the right word. It was a chamber they stood in, dark and small, with no decor other than one podium and a glass case in the middle of the room. Even from the distance he stood, the Doctor could feel how well-warded it was. 

 “You already know what this is,” Tyr sighed, resting against the wall.  

The piece of the hammer. 

Sif’s lips were firm and tight as she swiped her hand over a glass case, and a golden box appeared. 

“You have the piece from Midgard?” she asked, holding her breath as she spoke. 

“Yes,” the Doctor said, patting his suit pocket. He’d kept it on his person from the moment he realized Rose had it in her shoe, much to her chagrin. Sif nodded. 

“The pockets of your suit are bigger on the inside,” she said. The Doctor smirked. “Keep the box there. But heed this warning. You must hide the power each piece holds from everyone you meet. Let the Wolf guide you, let your connection to Time test you. Some realms will fight against you taking their piece. Some may not. Proceed with caution.”

“The box is enchanted to disguise its contents,” Tyr said. “You should keep all the pieces of the hammer inside of it. Lest Loki’s spies catch wind of your task.”

“How do we forge it back together?” the Doctor asked. Sif merely looked at him.

“Time will tell.” 

He clenched his jaw at that, but Sif merely handed him the box. 

And he nearly dropped it. 

This was where the Void Stuff was. 

He set it back down on the podium a moment later, and he began to scan it with his sonic screwdriver, trying to ensure it was safe, trying to ensure without a shadow of a doubt there was a logical explanation for the particles beyond ‘ Loki must have tampered with it .’

He touched the piece of the hammer. 

A dark, ethereal laugh filled the room. 

A figure, cast in shadow, let the outline of themselves be seen against the soft glow the box now emitted. As if the Doctor’s touch had ignited it, as it had in that cave. 

“ Heimdell ?” Tyr asked, even as one hand drifted to the helm of his sword. The laugh continued. “Brother. What are you doing?” 

A tall man with honey brown skin and bright red eyes came into view as the light from the box illuminated the entire chamber. His hair was pulled back in an intricate braid, and his staff - the one the Doctor knew was bestowed to Heimdell from Odin himself - was cracked. 

“That’s not Heimdell,” Sif hissed. The figure’s answering smile was sinister, and Sif’s face hardened. “Where is he ? ” 

“He’s unavailable at the present moment.” 

A coldness crept into the room. Rose glanced at the Doctor. 

“What have you done to him?” Sif barked. The figure laughed. 

“Relax. This is all playing out exactly as he knew it would,” he cooed, even as the fingers on his staff tightened. The Doctor put one hand on Rose’s arm as she tried to take a step forward. 

“What do you want?” she demanded anyway. The figure looked her up and down, a sniveling, flirtatious, grotesque smile on his face. 

“Oooh. Does the Bad Wolf bite?”

The Doctor drew his sword. 

The figure laughed, lowering the cracked staff to a fighting stance. 

Tyr launched. 

The metal of his sword clanked against the gold of the staff. Sparks of magic - red and blue - pierced the air as Tyr rolled onto his side and up behind the figure, and Sif shouted as she sliced her own sword across his arm. The figure hissed, dark blood trickling onto his bicep, but he fought back, and for a moment all they heard was a symphony of metal screeching. 

With each attack, magic continued to spark, and Rose realized the figure was doing exactly what the Jotnar had done outside the palace; there just wasn’t enough dirt or debris to throw at them this time. And she suddenly knew what this figure was. Sigurd had mentioned the Jotnar were shapeshifters, that Loki himself had disguised his true form all of his life. 

She locked eyes with the Doctor, who seemed to have figured it out at the same time. He ran toward Sif just as Rose ran toward Tyr, but the Jotnar grabbed her waist. All fighting ceased. 

“Let her go,” the Doctor ordered. 

“I am not leaving without the hammer,” the Jotnar seethed. “And the Wolf.”

“She’s unavailable at the present moment,” Rose snapped, and as Tyr’s sword hit the staff, Rose used the training Torchwood had given her and twisted herself out of his grasp, somersaulting between his legs. She kicked his knee. He fell. 

The Doctor shouted in surprise as the staff let out a ripple of magic that should have burned his shoes, but the magic on the clothes Sif had given him sent it ricocheting back to the Jotnar. The monster swung his staff closer to the ground, magic trailing behind it. The Doctor helped Sif jump over it. counter balancing all of her strikes as the figure slammed the end of the staff onto the ground, and the room began to shake. Once. Twice. 

A stone fell from the wall. 

Rose, twisting under Tyr’s sword, grabbed a hold of the Jotnar’s braid and pulled as hard as she could. 

He fell onto his back, and Tyr braced the edge of his sword right against his neck. 

“Kill me, and you’ll kill your beloved guard.” 

“The Jotnar shape shift,” Tyr bellowed. “They do not take ownership of another’s body. Where is Heimdell?”

“Right before you,” the Jotnar panted. Blood was oozing from a few places. Tyr pressed his sword onto the neck, and the Jotnar winced. 

“We have two of your own,” Tyr said. “Answer my questions, or they will die.”

The Jotnar’s eyes narrowed, as if he was weighing the threat. But when Sif took a step forward, her blonde hair illuminated by the light of the hammer, he seemed to make a resolute decision. 

“Kill them, then. See how my master likes it.” 

“Fine,” Sif said, and raised her sword up in the air, aiming right for the Jotnar’s heart. 

As she descended, he screamed. 

“WAIT!” 

She stopped, blade mid-air. 

“He told me once, Your Majesty. How he does not understand what his brother saw in you. I see it in your eyes. Your fear. A true Queen would have sliced my heart.”

Suddenly, magic twisted around Sif’s sword, knocking it to the ground. Before the others could react, they were thrown against the wall, magically bound and unable to break free. Sif glared at the Jotnar as he stood, his hands once again on Heimdell’s staff. 

“I have been in your court for hundreds of years. Watching your frailty. Learning your ways. Waiting for my call. My master is coming back, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

Magic pulsed out of him. Sif blocked it with her own. 

“How did you get here?”

“I never left,” the Jotnar sneered. Again, magic. Again, block. They began to circle one another. “I was there that day, during Ragnarok. The leader of the Jotnar army. My master, once he knew what he had to do, bade me stay. He needed someone to summon him back from the Void. So I killed Heimdell in his sleep and took his place. His body is at the bottom of the river.”

Sif’s growl was feral. The Jotnar shook his head at her. 

“You were all so caught up in grief you never noticed. But I’ve watched and waited all this time. As a member of your court.”

“You are a liar,” Tyr roared. 

The Jotnar struck again and magic encircled around Sif, forcing her to her knees. Tyr shouted for her, but the Jotnar didn’t so much as flinch. 

“When I felt my master call me, I came here. Heimdell, as you know, had access to this place. No one suspected a thing when I entered. My master crawled through the Void and met me. He appeared just over there,” he pointed to the crack in the stone, “He made his instructions clear. I had mere seconds before the gap closed. He was not strong enough to break through, not without that helmet. So I gave it to him, and he said he had to go. That he had to rest, but he promised to return stronger than before. He said I would know the signs, and when he was ready, I was to bring the piece of the hammer to him.” He eyed the box, picking it up and turning it over in his hand. “I came here tonight to do just that when I heard your voices down the hall. The Wolf… well… what a surprise she is. I have a feeling he’ll find a use for her.” 

Fury boiled in the Doctor’s gut at that thought, but before he could respond, Rose burst out laughing. 

All eyes turned to look at her. 

“You really like to hear yourself talk, don’t you?” she asked. 

Then, so fast it made the Doctor’s head spin, she somehow slipped out of the magical grasp the Jotnar had on her. He growled, his staff shifting from Sif to her, but Rose merely smiled. 

Then yanked the sword from her hip and the ax from her back, and began to fight. 

“ROSE!” the Doctor screamed, but it was too late. The Jotnar was striking, Rose was rebounding. It was like a dance, an elegant mix of blades and twirls and jumps, and she led him away from Sif. She stuck him in the leg, then the arm, then cried out as the end of his staff knocked her onto her back. Breathless, she hopped to her feet, standing directly in front of the stone wall. 

He stuck again. 

She ducked. 

The staff knocked another stone to the ground. Then another. 

Rose managed to roll onto her side as a third fell, and something began to shimmer behind it. 

A gate. 

She kicked the Jotnar, who howled and wrapped her wrists in magic, then used that same magic to hurl the fallen stones toward her. But she avoided them narrowly, panting as they hit the wall instead. 

The entire thing fell directly on top of the Jotnar. 

The magic around Sif blew out, and she ran toward Rose, tossing her the golden box.  

For one long moment, the two women looked at each other. But the Jotnar was stirring, his hand bloodied as he slowly stood, the sound he emitted non-human. It was low and guttural and vibrated into the rocks, which he raised above his head like a halo. 

The Doctor grabbed Rose’s hand. 

And as the Jotnar cried and threw the rocks toward Tyr, Sif, with tears rolling down her cheeks, sliced his neck. 

The Stuff of Legend barely had time to register Heimdell’s body slumping to the ground, or Tyr’s wail of grief. 

Because the gate had opened, and they fell through it. 

Chapter Text

Crickets. 

That was all they could hear. The calm, steady chirp of crickets. The sky was bright, the ground soft on their backs, the screams of agony Sif and Tyr had let out were nothing more than a vibrating memory in their heads, and the Doctor slowly sat up, gasping. 

Rose was silent, the box containing the shards of the hammer still clutched to her chest. 

“Are you alright?” he began, but Rose just stared behind her.

“He’s dead,” she whispered.

The Doctor swallowed. “Are you hurt?”

“What are they going to do now?”

“Rose, are you hurt?” the Doctor repeated, reaching for her. Their eyes locked as a flutter of chirps sounded again, and she shook her head. 

“You?”

“I’m fine,” he murmured. “Here. Let me.” He held his hand out, taking the box from her and placing it in his larger than life pockets, and slowly he began to look around. They were in a forest. Not a lot to go on, seeing as trees were most likely in all nine realms, and he looked back at Rose, frowning when she kept staring at the spot right behind them. 

“They’re Gods, Rose. They’ll be fine. They’re going to figure it out and get on with it. War requires that.” 

“They spoke so highly of him,” Rose whispered. “Heimdell. But he was dead the entire time…”

“I know,” the Doctor said, his jaw clenching. “We need to go.” 

Only then did it seem to dawn on her that they most likely crossed a portal into one of the other realms. Her back straightened, her eyes widened, and the Doctor stood as she did, looking at the trees and grass just as cautiously as she was. 

“Where are we?” she asked. But the Doctor merely shrugged and took her hand, squeezing it.

“No idea,” he said. “But I think I understand what they meant by you are ‘the key’. The portal on that wall wasn’t visible until you stood near it, almost as if something about you activated it.”

“I didn’t try to do that.”

“Exactly,” he sighed, pulling her into a hug and kissing the top of her head. “We have to keep going. Come on.” 

“I just… It doesn’t make any sense. How am I a key ?”

He sniffed, glancing up at the trees again, but before he could answer a white bird flew from one branch to another, a golden light emanating off of it. It cawed, its cry like a gentle song, and Rose felt a shiver go down her spine. It cawed again, flapping its wings, then pushed off the trees and into the sky - which the Doctor noticed was an odd shade of blue. Deeper than Earth’s sky, almost teal in places, with swirls of gold etched in the clouds. 

“I think we should follow it. Like the dream,” Rose whispered, and the Doctor inhaled slowly, because of course that’s what she would say. Of course. 

Nothing about this was going to be easy.

“Okay,” he grumbled as he led her through the forest. The ground was covered in moss. The smell of pine and icy water rippled in the air, and the hum of magic pulsed around them. It wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with, and each step was full of caution until they came across a clearing that was both enchanting and unsettling.

Its beauty was almost too perfect, like something from a dream that couldn’t quite hold its shape. Houses were woven seamlessly into the branches of ancient trees, suspended high above the ground. Their roofs shimmered with a soft, ethereal glow, made of greenery and delicate wood. Vines curled around the trunks, winding upward as if alive, and small, glowing orbs floated gently through the air, illuminating the path.

A village, the Doctor realized. One that seemed to touch the sky.

The bird, glowing like a shard of sunlight, perched on a branch above them, watching with intelligent eyes. It cawed, beckoning them forward. Still, neither moved.

The Doctor could feel the weight of the place. Its power, its magic. So unfamiliar, so otherworldly. But there was something else, too. Something forgotten that thrummed in the air. Like he did in Asgard, he could faintly taste time .

Then he saw them.

People emerged from the trees, dressed in ethereal robes and gowns. Crowns of antlers and flowers adorned their heads. Their eyes were wide, their ears pointed.

“Alfheim,” he murmured, awestruck. “We’re in the realm of the elves.”

“And let me guess, one does not simply walk into Mordor?” Rose muttered. “What do they want?”

The Doctor smiled at her joke, but the bird cawed again. 

Then transformed.

A woman stood before them suddenly, tall and still, with long silver hair and a gown that flowed like water. She regarded them intently.

“Explain yourselves,” she said. “You are human. You are not.”

“Interspecies mating,” the Doctor said at once, proudly. “The two of us, that is. We’re mates who are mating. Whichever you—”

Rose jabbed him in the ribs. “Stop it.” 

He smirked.

“How did you get here?” the woman asked. “We have not had a visitor since before Ragnarok.”

“Sif sent us,” Rose said, stepping forward. “Hello.”

The woman’s face paled. “Impossible.” 

“No, it’s the truth,” Rose insisted. “Here.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow when she reached into his pocket, but before he could say anything, she pulled out the music box. The woman stared at it in shock. Rose reached for the knob to wind it up, but the woman stepped forward with a gasp. 

“Stop!” she hissed, her hand clamping over Rose’s. “ Where did you get this?”

“From Sif,” Rose said. “She sent us from Asgard.” 

The Doctor stepped forward. “Is there, erm… Somewhere we could sit and talk?”

The woman studied him, then looked back at the music box before she gestured toward a house nestled high in the nearest tree.

“Do not touch anything.”

“No promises,” he said. Rose shot him a glare, rolling her eyes. He grinned. “Kidding. Lead the way.”

Several other elves watched from their balconies as they ascended the wooden stairs lined with ivy and twinkling lights. The trees were alive with magic, and when they reached the house, the woman unlocked it with a wave of her hand, gesturing for them to enter.

“After you,” she insisted. The Doctor crossed the threshold first, stunned (for once) into silence by what he saw. It was a chamber of some sort, much larger than it appeared on the outside. The floor was lined with moss and flowers, the dais adorned with twelve thrones made of bark and branches, so beautiful they almost hurt to look at. The view of Alfheim danced in the windows. Treehouses stretched for miles, a waterfall sang in the distance, protectively surrounded by snow capped mountains. It was luscious and green, vibrant and alive. 

He’d never seen anything like it. 

“What are your names?” the woman asked cautiously. 

“Oh, sorry. I’m the Doctor,” he said. “This is my…” He sighed, once again unsure of how to introduce her.

“I’m his mate , apparently,” Rose said. “Rose. Rose Tyler.”

The woman smiled a little despite herself when the Doctor shot Rose a playful look. 

“I am Vaena. The rest of the council will be here shortly.” 

“The council?” Rose asked, clutching the music box to her chest, but Vaena merely gave her a look, then rang a bell on the wall. The sound was low, reverberating around them as if rooted in the tree itself, and the chamber hummed in anticipation until eleven more elves calmly walked through the door, all dressed in elaborate gowns and robes. 

“What is the meaning of this?” one of the men asked, his voice gruff and tired. “Are you really summoning the council , Vaena? For what damned purpose?!”

“Peace, Adgar,” she whispered. “We have visitors.”

“Visitors?” another woman asked, darting her eyes across the room. When she spotted the Doctor and Rose, she furrowed her brow. “Who are they?”

“They claim to have been sent by Sif herself,” Vaena said. “Which I am inclined to believe.”

“Why?” Adgar demanded. 

Vaena took a step forward. “They hold the Alenrûn.” 

“The what ?” Rose whispered to the Doctor, who shook his head, also confused. The council all turned to stare at them, their gazes dropping to the music box. 

“Child of Light,” Adgar said softly. “Show us what you hold in your hands. Please.” 

“Me?” Rose asked. Adgar nodded, and with a swallow, Rose held the music box out for them to see. He stiffened. 

“Take your seats, Council,” he instructed. “It seems the Assembly is in order. For the first time in nearly a thousand years.”

The tension in the room shifted so palpably, Rose could barely breathe. 

Slowly, each one of the elves took their place in one of the carved thrones, watching Rose and the Doctor with careful attention. Vaena sat farthest to the left, Adgar dead center, and the Doctor clenched his jaw when a circle of light appeared on the floor, practically summoning them. When neither moved, Vaena cleared her throat. 

“It’s old magic,” she explained. “Visitors must step inside the circle during the Assembly. It will require you to tell the truth, which allows us to determine the proper way to proceed.”

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver with a curious glance. “May I?”

“May you what ?” Adgar asked, but the Doctor scanned the circle anyway, shrugging as he put the screwdriver back in his pocket. “What is that?”

“Old magic,” he said with a smirk. “It’s quite clever, what you’ve crafted here. I can’t get a read on it.”

“You are not supposed to read it. You are to step inside of it,” Vaena said, obviously irritated. The Doctor did as she said, grabbing Rose’s hand as she moved beside him. “Tell us. Where do you hail from?”

“Earth. Or, erm. Midgard,” Rose said. Vaena nodded. 

“And you, Doctor?”

“Not Midgard,” he said. “Though, well… I suppose technically to get here, I did come from Midgard. But originally… I’m from somewhere else. Somewhere far.”

He frowned, the effects of the truth circle loosening his tongue more than he’d like. He shared a glance with Rose, who was nibbling on her lip.

“I see,” Adgar hummed. “And how did you arrive in Alfheim? The gates are sealed.”

“It’s a long story,” Rose admitted. “We first crossed through a portal into Asgard. That's where we met Sif.” 

“We were sent because the Jotnar are trying to help Loki unite Thor’s hammer,” the Doctor said. “We need the piece you have to stop him.”

Adgar and Vaena shared a glance, as did the rest of the council. “Loki is dead.”

“No. You all thought he was, but he’s alive. He’s been hiding in the Void.”

“It’s like the space where nothing is. Not even time,” Rose said. Adgar sat up straighter. 

“How do you know this?”

“That’s the long part of the story. But you should know he was weakened after Ragnarok. Now,  he’s getting stronger. He got his helmet back. Now, he wants Thor’s hammer.”

“How is this possible?” one of the other elves asked. But before Adgar or Vaena could respond the Doctor did. 

“It’s simple enough, really. There are weak points in the fabric between universes. I assume he’s learning how to manipulate them, and pulling the threads loose.”

“He wants revenge. Not only on Asgard. But on all of the realms,” Rose added. “So… yeah… Like the Doctor said. We need your piece of the hammer.”

“You expect us to believe he’s working in the shadows ? Loki? The man who craved attention so badly he killed Odin for it?” one of the elves asked. “If what you say is true, then how do we know you are not Jotnar? How do we –”

“The circle, Unnr,” Vaena sighed. “They cannot lie.” 

Adgar stood. His expression was unreadable, eyes like carved stone as he stepped down from his throne. The chamber watched him in utter stillness, as though the trees themselves held their breath, too.

“This tale you spin,” he said at last, voice slow and heavy, “it echoes of Sif’s voice. Before she closed the gates, she warned us the time may come when we may need to once again fight. And yet… it is difficult to reconcile with what we know of the Void. Of Loki.”

The Doctor’s expression darkened. “What do you know of the Void?”

“And yet,” Adgar continued, ignoring him. “You come bearing the Alenrûn—something not seen in our realm since before the last snowfall on Yggdrasil’s crown. Tell me, what did Sif tell you of it?”

“Nothing, she just said to give it to you,” Rose said. Adgar laughed, though the sound was bereft of humor. 

“That sounds like her,” he mused. “That box was forged with stardust and moonroot long before Rangnarok. It was foretold it would be placed in the hand of the Child of Light… to awaken the Realms when the world tilted toward ruin.”

He stepped closer, his boots quiet against the moss-lined floor.

“Only one marked by the stars can open it. Only one tied to the current of Time itself. The last one able to make it sing was Thor, before he sacrificed himself.”

Rose’s grip on the box tightened.

“Do you believe you can open it as he did?” he asked her. Rose licked her lips, her tongue touching the corner of her mouth as she shrugged. 

“Sif says I’m the key,” she whispered. “I don’t know…” 

“The two of you are here, that alone speaks volumes,” Vaena confirmed gently. “Whether we like it or not, Adgar, the Alenrûn would not have answered to them unless it sensed something.”

The council stirred at that. A low murmur passed between thrones, though no one dared speak over Adgar as he turned toward the others.

“Then perhaps prophecy stirs,” he grumbled,looking at Rose again. “And if what you say is true, if Loki has found a way to pierce the Veil of the Void… then we may already be too late.”

“No,” the Doctor said quietly, urgently. “Not yet. That’s the thing. The seals are still holding for the most part. We need to act quickly, of course. The Void is fraying, but it hasn’t snapped. Not yet. I can sense it myself.”

“And what gives you that power?” Adgar asked. 

“Gallifrey,” the Doctor said, surprised, and cursing this damn truth circle. Adgar stared at him. 

“You…are a Time Lord?” he whispered. “And you intend to stop him? With what? A box and a memory? Your planet is gone, Doctor.”

“I am well aware.”

Rose stepped forward, squeezing the Doctor’s hand. “But he isn’t. And that’s why we need the hammer.”

Adgar studied her. “To do what, Child of Light? Rebuild the weapon of a fallen god?”

“Yes,” the Doctor snapped. “I will use it. Just long enough to stop Loki.”

“You?”

The Doctor nodded. “And then I’ll destroy it. No one should wield that kind of power.”

Adgar’s eyes gleamed in anger. “Do you understand what you are saying? You risk the end of everything – ”

“It’ll be the end either way if Loki succeeds,” the Doctor warned. “I’m trying to save everyone. Including you.”

Another pause stretched long between them.

Then, quietly, Vaena stood.

“There is a way to test them, Adgar,” she said. “The Trial of Echoes.”

“Ah, yes,” Unnr said. “Indeed. Let the Alenrûn guide them through the memory of this Realm’s heart. Let them face the truth. Let us see if they were chosen correctly.”

Adgar looked over. “If they are false, the forest will devour them.”

“And if they are true,” Vaena replied, “then Alfheim will give them what they seek.”

The room settled.

Adgar turned back to Rose and the Doctor. “Do you accept these terms?”

The Doctor gave a weary, sideways smile. “Do we have much of a choice?”

“You don’t wish to know what the Trial entails?” Vaena asked. The Doctor shrugged. 

“We’re about to do it,” he said. “S’pose we can just wait and see.”

“I’d rather not know, honestly,” Rose said half-jokingly. Adgar glanced down at the music box, sighing. 

 “Then open it, Child. That is the first test. Should you succeed, the rest… will be up to you.”

“For what it’s worth,” Vaena said. “We wish you luck.” 

Rose looked down at the box. Then, with trembling hands, she twisted the knob at the back, winding it up until it clicked. 

The Doctor held his breath as a soft melody began to echo through the chamber. 

“Ooooh-ooooh-ooooh-oooh-oooh-ooh–oooh-ooohhh -”

Rose gasped. 

“That’s what I heard in the dream,” she whispered, her eyes locking with the Doctor’s. “It’s what I hear when I see the wolf. The song I remembered but couldn’t place…”

When the song ended, the box popped open. 

And they were no longer in the chamber. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

They stood on a path made of stained glass, surrounded by darkness. 

“Doctor?!” Rose cried frantically, reaching for his hand. He pulled her close, staring down at the abyss of nothingness beneath them, already scanning their surroundings with the sonic screwdriver. “Where are we?”

“A…memory,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “I think.”

Rose looked down at the glass. Stunning portraits of moments long forgotten were mapped out before her – Odin, carrying Thor as a child on his hip. Odin, giving up his eye in exchange for visions of the future. Loki, blue as the sea, then an adult as pale as she was. On and on the images went, until the path reached a door. 

They slowly approached it. 

“What do you s’pose is through there?” Rose asked. 

“Only one way to find out,” the Doctor answered, slipping the sonic back into his pocket so he could grab the ornate handle. It was made of bone, intricately carved. The door was as green as the moss on the chamber floor, and he glanced at Rose before he made an attempt to open it. “Are you ready?”

“No,” she admitted. “But go ahead.” 

The door didn’t creak as it slid open, and they didn’t need to walk inside of it. The area around them simply transformed. The darkness became light. The stained glass melted into dirt and stone. 

They were suddenly thousands of years in the past, and yet, the forest of Alfheim breathed .

Sunlight poured like honey through high, crystalline leaves. The air shimmered with suspended dust that pulsed faintly with light. Trees towered above them, ancient and immense, their bark silver-gold and veined with something that looked like starlight. It was this realm as it once was, before it was touched by war. How the Doctor knew that, he couldn’t explain, but he watched elves move like ghosts between the branches. Warriors, messengers, mothers with infants in their arms, all unaware of the strangers now standing in their midst.

Rose’s eyes widened as a blur of movement passed them, and the scene shifted again. Time pulses beneath their feet, and the Doctor clenched his jaw when he realized they had jumped ahead several more years. Hundreds, perhaps. 

In the clearing ahead, a battle was underway.

“Oh, my God,” Rose gasped. 

It wasn’t like anything that could be fought on Earth. It was mythic and surreal. The ground quaked with every blow as monstrous creatures, their forms shifting and fractured like broken glass, surged forward through a shimmering rift in the sky. The Jotnar, she realized, shape shifting around them, manipulating the space. Trees snapped like twigs. Light screamed through the canopy.

Magic. Everything was being touched and destroyed by it. 

“GET DOWN!” someone shouted, his armor scorched, his hair wild, A hammer glowed faintly in his grip. Beside him, a woman with long blonde hair, fearless and bloodied, held twin blades that carved through shadow, shielding the wounded elves behind her.

“I GOT IT!” she screamed. “GO!”

She attacked the Jotnar with force. 

“That’s Sif ,” Rose realized, clutching the Doctor’s arm. “This is real…” 

“This is history,” he corrected. “It’s a vision. It was real once, but not now.” 

Rose’s eyes glanced back at the man, who was helping the elves of Alfheim escape through a narrow patch of trees, his hammer creating a force field of some kind that the Jotnar could not break. 

Thor. 

He was stunning. Not in the golden, polished way Rose assumed he would be from statues and myths, but something far greater, something wild and elemental. It was as though he’d been born of a storm, and was not just master of it. Wind and rain ripped around him, obeying his every will. His eyes burned with purpose, his jaw clenched with grief.

“He’s holding them off,” the Doctor murmured, scanning the chaotic battlefield. “Barely.”

The forcefield flickered. The Jotnar hissed in pleasure, their forms twisting and reforming. One moment they were wolves, the next, jagged humanoid creatures with claws of smoke and crystal. Giants. Each strike they landed fractured the air itself.

Several elves died before their eyes. 

Thor screamed. 

“They came through the cracks,” the forest whispered, stopping Rose and the Doctor in their tracks. “Through the places where the stars forgot to hold.”

The Doctor glanced up, spotting the point in the sky the Jotnar had forged open. It was the gate. The one they fell through, he assumed. The one Sif had sealed in the future, but at this moment in history was currently wide open. 

A rift was forming around it. Something tearing at the seams… 

Time. 

This was before Ragnarok, he realized. Perhaps only hours before. 

“And from the wound, came the breaking.”

The forest’s voice wasn’t cruel. It was mournful.

Thor raised the hammer again, lightning curling up his arms, divine and desperate. The hammer responded with a pulse of raw energy, but Rose could see it now. Cracks. Thin lines of strain glowing along its hilt and head, spidering out like fractures in ice.

“He knows,” the Doctor whispered. “He knows it’s going to break.”

“Then why use it?” Rose asked, heart pounding. 

“He has no choice,” the Doctor said grimly, and he did the only thing he could think to do. He grabbed his own axe from his back. 

“Doctor, we’re not really here!” Rose protested. “What good is that gonna do?”

“I need to see how he did it,” he said. “How it broke. Why it broke…” 

“Doctor –” 

But he was running toward Thor, knowing in moments the rift would fracture. Time would spin around itself. They would land in Midgard, according to myth. Jormungandr would be there. Loki would be there. Ragnarok would come to pass, and all would end. 

The sky pulsed bright yellow, the storm of his creation swirling in the clouds as Thor fought off the Jotnar. One strike. Then, two. 

“ One day, the wolf will walk and the realms will listen. The stars will sing. And the light will return,” the forest said. 

A figure took shape in the middle of the battle field, her skin glowing bright gold. Her eyes the color of the sun.  

 Rose took a step forward. 

“She looks like…” 

“ROSE!!” the Doctor screamed.

The forest pulsed with recognition.

Chapter Text

He tried to run to her. 

He tried so hard. 

But the forest swelled in light, and when it faded, she was gone. 

“ROSE!!!”

His hearts hammered in his chest. The soil still glowed faintly, the echo of her voice lingered in the wind that whipped around him. Her scent followed the rain… but she wasn’t there.

“ROSE?!” 

All that surrounded him was the sickening madness of war. He turned toward Thor, who couldn’t see him, of course, but was still fighting off the Jotnar as best he could. Sif, too, weaved through the trees, striking down enemies with ease. Like a gavel, Thor’s hammer hit the ground, and the Doctor flew backwards. 

He wanted to crawl to the spot Rose last stood. He wanted to scan it, examine it, but he couldn’t get there. His body wouldn’t move that way. He was being pulled away from her, quite literally, as if he was trapped in this part of the memory and this part alone , unable to see what may lie beyond it. 

“Oh, for the love of…” he groaned. 

They were separated. 

By a wall. 

If he didn’t know it was all a simulation, he’d burn Alfheim to the ground. 

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat, his own storm starting to brew. “Fine. What now, then, Thor? Care to share with the class?”

Thor didn’t answer. Because of course he didn’t. He couldn’t . 

His hammer struck the ground again. A roar of thunder terrorized the sky. The wind moved so violently the Doctor had to hold onto a nearby tree to stay upright. The tear in the sky shredded. 

Ragnarok was beginning. 

A wave of magic hit him. The forest warped and twisted into unrecognizable shapes. There was screaming. There was blood. 

And then, there was silence. 

Slowly, the Doctor opened his eyes. He coughed as he stood, not quite sure when he’d fallen onto his back, and he took a step forward, unable to see through the ash and soot of whatever part of Midgard was burning. The cries of battle were distant, but growing. He fumbled in his pocket for his sonic screwdriver, ready to absorb whatever information he could. Ready to learn how the hammer shattered, what Thor did with it. How he wielded it. 

But the screams… They made his blood curdle. 

The ash began to break, and the Doctor stepped forward into an orange sky.

“No,” he groaned. “No no no – not this…” 

Ragnarok had begun.

But Arcadia was falling. 

“I can feel your fear,” the forest said. “ Come.” 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

It felt as though her skin was on fire. 

She rubbed at it, but that only made it worse. Everything was too hot – her clothes, her weapons. She fidgeted with her dress, with the straps that held her arrows on her back, but her feet wouldn’t move. They couldn’t. The forest had become so quiet. As if the only two people left in the universe were her and this woman – this goddess – that stood before her. 

That’s what she had to be right? A goddess. 

A goddess who wore her face. 

Rose swallowed. 

“Who are you?” she asked. 

“You already know me,” she said. Her voice was like silk. It blanketed around her, shielding her from the heat. It was achingly familiar, but not her own, and she began to nibble on her lip, shaking her head. 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Of course you do.” 

Rose frowned. “You sound like the forest…. Were you the one talking? Saying all that stuff about stars?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I see everything.”

“Right,” Rose said, shifting on her feet. “So, erm… What do you want?”

“Nothing. I am here to observe.”

Rose sighed, then began to look around the forest, panic settling in her stomach when she realized why it was so quiet. 

“Doctor?!” she shouted, but her feet were cemented to the dirt. She fought against it for a moment, then let out a growl of frustration as she looked back toward the goddess, who tilted her head, her golden eyes unblinking. 

“He cannot help you here,” the goddess said. “This is your trial, Rose Tyler.”

“Where is he?!”

“Elsewhere,” she said. “He has his own trial. I have parted your paths, for now.”

An anger she had no control over flooded Rose’s veins. 

“What the hell gives you that right?” she snapped, and the goddess almost smiled. “I don’t care how powerful you think you are. I don’t care that you stole my face. Take me to him now.” 

“I cannot,” the goddess said coolly. “I must watch first.”

“Watch what?” Rose screamed, still trying to pull her feet out of the dirt. “Watch me unravel? Watch me fight? Do you want to see what will make me break, what will –” 

“I want to see what you choose .”

It was the way she said it that made Rose stop. A promise, and a warning. Her breath hitched as the world around her shifted. Like watercolors dripping off a canvas, the forest melted away. She couldn’t help but lift her hand to try and touch it, mesmerized, despite her anger, at how her fingers simply passed through time and space as if it didn’t exist at all. She felt nothing, and yet somehow also felt everything… 

Then something formed. A building, then another, until the London skyline appeared.

A man in leather laughed. 

“Well, isn’t this fantastic?”

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

The orange sky bled over everything. Towers of glass and light burned in the distance. Screams echoed from every direction, and at the center of it all children ran away, disappearing in fire.

It was as if the forest knew that’s what haunted him the most. The children. 

Daleks were everywhere . 

He closed his eyes. 

“This isn’t the war you wanted me to see,” he hissed bitterly. “Take me back.”

“ But it is, ” the forest whispered. “ To face the hammer, you must face this. This is your trial .” 

A child ran straight through him, her body evaporating into the air. She was a projection, a memory. Something as intangible as he was once, when he’d said goodbye to Rose on a beach. He shuddered, trying not to allow himself to process that he remembered her. The child. She’d handed him a toy once. Said he looked sad.

He’d never asked her name. 

“Stop it,” he begged, his voice cracking. “This isn’t yours to use…”

“ It is you we are testing, Doctor .”  

This time, the forest’s voice didn’t echo around him. The etherealness of it was gone, replaced by something intimate. Something raw and real. It became a voice he knew better than he knew himself, and he was so terrified to turn around and face her that he began to tremble, his entire body practically on the verge of shattering. 

“Don’t do this,” he whispered. “Please… ” 

“Look at me.” 

He wasn’t sure how he found the strength to do so, but he turned toward her. But instead of skin that was soft, pink and yellow, her body was made of… armor. The color of the Vortex. Artron Energy radiated through her. Huon particles danced along her cheeks. Her eyes were just as bright, gold and shimmering, watching him with interest. 

He had a feeling he knew what she was. 

And it made his hearts stop. 

“You’re not her.” 

The goddess smirked. “Would it be so bad if I was?”

He glared. Really, truly glared. The kind of glare he reserved for people who threatened everything he’d come to care for. The glare of time itself, the glare reserved for the Oncoming Storm.

The goddess sighed. “There’s that look . The fury beneath the charm. What is it you fear?”

The Doctor said nothing. He simply stood there, jaw tight, fists clenched, hearts pounding in protest. 

The goddess stepped forward. “Tell me, Doctor. Is it loyalty that makes you this way? Or guilt? Or perhaps it is the weight of your name? You’ve seen so many wars. Why does this one make your hearts bleed?”

“You know why,” he choked out. She nodded. 

“Because it is yours ,” she whispered. “And so too shall this be. If we give you the piece of the hammer. If you unite it, if you fight Loki, then what is to come is yours as well... Can you bear this burden a second time?”

The Doctor’s mouth twitched in defiance, but he didn’t speak. 

“She wasn’t supposed to see this, was she?” the goddess asked, her hand brushing his cheek. He tried to pull back, but she stopped him. “She was your salvation. But you were hers, too, and you didn’t see that coming.”

His throat bobbed. 

“She saved you. And in doing so, she saw all that was, and all that ever could be. She saw this war. She saw your part in it. She took part in it for you, and you took those memories away. Why? To save her, or to save yourself?”

“She was dying.” 

“Two things can be true at once,” the goddess said. “Have you ever admitted it to yourself? That she is your weakness?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped. “If you knew her at all –” 

“I do,” the goddess hummed. “Better than you think.” 

“Then you know what she is capable of,” he said daringly. “She is not weak.”

“I never said she was,” the goddess corrected. “I said you were.” 

He frowned, but an explosion erupted behind him, and he turned to watch another piece of his beloved Arcadia fall. Daleks roamed the streets, the sound of “exterminate” ringing like a cloister bell, and his hearts shattered. There was nothing he could stop this time. This wasn’t real. All he could do was watch, yet even still his breath left his body, his throat roared in agony, and he collapsed to his knees. 

“You are deflecting, Doctor. This part of the trial is not about her,” the goddess reminded him. “It’s about you . You think it’s noble, don’t you? To carry it all. To bear the burden. To make the impossible calls so no one else has to. You do it as punishment for this, don’t you?”

He looked at her, his brown eyes dark with anger and sorrow. The goddess sighed. 

“Everytime you hide your fear, your guilt, your love… You’re not protecting her, you are robbing her of a choice. And then you tell yourself you’re doing the right thing. That it’s the cost of being the Doctor. But really, you rob yourself of freedom .” 

His breath hitched. 

“She deserves better,” he said hauntingly. 

“Then if you had to choose this again,” the goddess said, gesturing to Gallifrey as it burned around her, kneeling in front of him. “If you had to destroy a world, even if you saved her, even if you lost her….Would you?”

The battlefield burned around him, but all he could feel was the cold. The aching, biting, lonely cold of being the last. 

“I would rather die.” 

The goddess nodded, a ghost of a smile on her lips. 

“She would have stayed,” the goddess said. “Had you let her remember. You could have saved her that day, and still left the memory. All these years, you wouldn’t have had to bear this alone.” 

“I know,” he whispered.

“So why didn’t you?” 

He let out a sob. 

Where did he even start? 

Because she did – she deserved better. Because he didn’t want her to become like him. Because the moment he admitted he needed her – really needed her – was the moment he’d never let her go. That was the moment he’d condemn her. Then, it would be impossible to save the world and lose her. 

He would have allowed two universes to collapse. He would have burned a sun not to say goodbye, but to say hello. The laws of time… he would have stopped at nothing. Time Lord Victorious. No walls would have been strong enough… 

And that terrified him, once. 

It should still. 

It didn’t. 

His jaw trembled as he looked up at the goddess. At the face that was so similar to Rose’s he could practically feel her skin on his fingers. What did his chivalry matter? Was it even that – chivalry? Despite his best efforts to keep her safe, she’d built a damn cannon and come back anyway. Risked the laws of the universe with or without him. 

For him. 

Oh, yes. He was well past every one of those fears now, wasn’t he? 

He was a man in love. 

He sighed as the goddess watched. As she waited. 

“Because I am a coward.” 

And just like that, the orange sky turned grey. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

Rose gaped, mouth open, at the Doctor. 

His large ears were the same. His leather jacket was just as she remembered. His blue eyes twinkled, and he watched her, tilting his head as she tried (and failed) to speak. 

“Rose?”

Oh, God, his voice. 

“H-hello.” 

“Why the long face?” 

Rose turned to the goddess, who nodded. “You can talk to him.” 

“I…” Rose said, but her voice wavered as she turned her attention back to the Doctor, who was eating chips. The Eye of London turned behind him, on and on and on… 

 “Can I have one?”

“I’m holding them for you ,” he said slyly, and Rose bit her lip. Suddenly, like being sucked into a tube, she was transported away from him, to the outside of the memory, watching herself at nineteen kick her legs and laugh as she reached forward and grabbed the chip from his hand. 

He caught her hand and squeezed. Then stole the chip back. 

“What is this?” Rose asked the goddess, tears welling in her eyes. 

“Your choice,” she answered. 

The world tilted again. 

Shards of memories on broken glass filtered around her like a shattered mirror. She caught glimpses of herself, glimpses of him, both in leather and pinstripes, bouncing beside her. A pink crown on his head at Christmas. Them, dancing on the TARDIS. His rage when she lost her face.

A kiss she didn’t remember. A gold light she could feel. 

And then, a lever. 

The glass spiraled until it formed an image. Until she stood in the halls of Torchwood, the one she commanded not so very long ago. She was alone, surrounded by wires and artifacts. An abandoned TARDIS sat sadly in the corner.  Mickey’s notes were sprawled on a table.

The dimension cannon was in its case, proudly displayed before her. 

Rose sighed. “Okay, right, I get it. I made a reckless choice before and you want to know if I’ll do it again. Is that right?”

The goddess tilted her head. “What do you think?”

“Of course it is,” Rose said. “We’re asking you to give us a piece of something god-made. Something powerful. Something that could rewrite time if we need it to. It’s war, and the darkness is coming. You want to know what I’ll risk.” 

The goddess smiled. “Clever girl.”

Rose smiled back. “Takes one to know one, yeah?” Then, she narrowed her gaze. ”Why do you have my face?”

The goddess took a step closer, and Rose shuddered when she took her hand, the warmth that radiated off it almost painful, yet somehow not. 

“You are the key, Rose Tyler,” the goddess said. “You know what you believe. And that is what we must test. Your loyalty.”

“To what?”

“To him,” she whispered. “Can you bear to lose him again?”

Rose’s smile fell instantly. “I’m not gonna lose him.”

“You might,” the goddess warned. “Of course you might. It is a risk. Surely you know that.”

Rose looked down at the cannon. The yellow orb in its center felt like a heartbeat, even in memory. She could feel it – the pull of time and space around her, the way every atom in her body thrummed and recoiled as she weaved through the fabric of it, to all the places she was never meant to see. It was alive and real, a tattoo she would carry forever. She ached to touch it. To get back to him. The longing built inside of her, pulsing, writhing, until – 

She stepped back. 

“Stop it,” she said, looking at the goddess. “I don’t want this! I don’t want to use it again. Stop making me remember how it felt when I needed to.”

“You don’t wish for that power? For the ability to control time?”

“It was never about that and you know it,” Rose spat. The goddess stared at her. “I didn’t want to play goddess. You may look like me, but I’m not like you. I did it because our story wasn’t over..” 

“You broke through the Void for him,” the goddess whispered. Rose swallowed, dropping her gaze toward her feet. “You risked everything.” 

Rose nodded. 

“You nearly died.”

“A part of me already had, I guess I thought it didn’t matter,” she revealed. The goddess, again, waited. “That first night in the parallel world, I didn’t leave that stupid wall. It’s just a couple floors up from here, actually. I avoided it for years. But that first night it’s the only place I wanted to be. I wouldn’t leave. I made my skin raw by clawing at it.”

“I know,” the goddess said. Rose’s eyes flitted up to her – hazel and gold mixing. “Could you bear it again?”

Rose’s tongue touched her lip. The goddess took another step closer. 

“The pain. The loss. Could you lose him?” 

“It’s not a question of whether or not I can lose him, is it? I have lost him. More than once,” Rose said. Then she crossed her arms, looking at the goddess like she was a puzzle. “Is that why you showed me who he used to be? Because I lost that version of him forever?”

“He was the one you lost yourself for.” 

Rose looked at her gold skin carefully. “Lost in what way?”

“Your bravery is commendable, Rose Tyler. But it is also dangerous. He is your blind spot. Your weakness.” 

“You don’t know him at all,” Rose said. 

“I do,” the goddess whispered. “Better than you think.”

“Then you know what he’s capable of. He’s not weak –” 

“I never said he was,” the goddess replied. “I said he could be your weakness. If you’re not careful. So tell me. Having been through all you’ve been through – what would you risk to save him? What would you give to keep the man you love?”

Love. 

The word lingered. 

For several moments, it was silent.

The goddess waited, watching as Rose began to walk around the room, brushing her fingers along shelves she once kept notebooks and lab equipment on, though the images flickered slightly, reminding her it was all a simulation. She made her way over to the TARDIS – the one she showed Donna, once. For a moment, she stared at the door. 

“I know what it is to be alone and love him,” she whispered. “I’m not afraid of that anymore. Is that what you mean?”

“Why?” the goddess asked. 

“Because I was scared all those other times. I was selfish. I didn’t know who I was without him and I didn’t want to.  But… I do now. I know we can do this, whatever this is. Whatever Loki is planning, we can stop it. I know we can.”

Her tongue danced on her lips as she circled the TARDIS. 

“I fought so hard to get back. I worked. I trained. I learned every skill I could think of from archery to combat. I can fire every gun you hand me, probably. I studied the rifts. I learned about the Void. I stopped countless aliens… But somewhere along the way I stopped doing it for him. Or… I stopped doing it only for him. I did it for me, too. Because he showed me I was brilliant, and it was only when he was gone that I started to believe him.”

The goddess nodded gently. “Then will you still break the rules for him? Bend time once more? Burn for him?”

“Course I would,” Rose admitted. The goddess tilted her head. “But…not like this,”

She pointed to the dimension cannon, and the goddess’ brows furrowed as Rose walked back toward it. 

“I wouldn’t risk the universe to do it,” she whispered. “If it came to that… I’d rather die.” 

The goddess took a step closer. “Would he want you to take that risk?”

“No,” Rose said. “But it’s not up to him, is it?”

The goddess smiled. 

And Torchwood faded away. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

Thor’s scream was louder than the thunder that followed. 

The Doctor landed first, his axe sliding out in front of him as the grey sky swirled and pulsed. Rain pummeled the ground, and he slowly stood, catching his breath as the wind tried to knock him back down. 

The same memory he’d seen before unfolded in front of him. The calm before the storm, right in the heart of a storm. Sif cried out, Thor helped the elves escape. Many died anyway. 

He furrowed his brow as he watched it, then groaned in pain when something landed hard on top of him, throwing him back onto the ground. 

“Sorry!” 

Rose. 

He let out a half sob, half laugh, his arm coming to rest instinctively around her. They each rolled to the side until they were facing one another, the rain plastering their hair to their faces.

He smiled. 

“Hello,” he said. “Pass with flying colors, I take it?”

“No idea,” she said. “You?”

“No idea.”

The Jotnar screamed, and their attention was pulled back to the scene before them. Rose stood, brushing off her skirt as the Doctor slid his axe onto his back. “Didn’t we just watch this?”

“I think the memory is a time loop,” the Doctor revealed. “For some reason the forest has this moment locked on repeat.”

“Why?” Rose asked. The Doctor sighed. 

“I reckon we’re about to find out,” he said, gesturing to the golden light that was starting to appear between two trees. The goddess held her hand out to them, and they fought against Thor’s wrath to reach her, barely able to stand as Ragnorok began. 

And then it all reset. Thor was screaming at Sif, the elves were running like wild things. 

The goddess snapped her fingers as Thor raised his hammer, and everything paused.

“Neat trick,” the Doctor said flatly. The goddess turned towards him, an amused look on her face. 

Rose, on the other hand, had no idea what to say. But she didn’t miss how the Doctor stood between them, her and the goddess that looked like her, his body like a shield, his face entirely unreadable. She reached for his hand. 

The goddess glanced at Thor, who was mid-scream, his eyes wild in rage, sweat and blood pouring down his cheeks. The hammer was glowing above his head, radiant and glorious. 

“Come look at him, Doctor,” she said.

His throat bobbed, but he did what she said. 

He wasn’t what he imagined he’d be. 

He was younger than he realized. Or, at least he looked younger. Perhaps that was something else they had in common, the Esir and the Time Lords. Or perhaps that was the power of myth. Deifying a person until they no longer felt real, but something wisdom could only dream of being. 

There was nothing of wisdom in the way he looked now. Only fear and anger and pain. 

Fire and ice and rage. 

The Doctor stared at his face, at the blue eyes that held grief and hope all in one look. At the jaw that was bruised yet stern, the arms that were large, yet protective. He inhaled slowly, because there was something about him that was achingly familiar. Something that screamed this was the moment burden became unbearable and resolve became undeniable.  When something was about to shatter, or become something else entirely. 

This man – this towering God, looked so human in this moment it almost brought him to his knees. 

“What am I looking for?” he whispered. 

“If you’re asking, then you’ve found it,” the goddess said. Then, she reached for the hammer, tapping it once with her finger. The entire thing shattered, until only one piece remained. 

Rose gasped. 

“You stand in the last breath of Alfheim as it once was,” the goddess whispered. “This is the moment the hammer began to break. Thor knew it. He carried on anyway, until the walls between realms shattered. Until he died. The universe screamed that day, but a piece of truth was trapped here, in time itself, buried within memory where Sif knew it would be safe.” 

The piece of the hammer was dull and lifeless in her palm as she held it out to the Doctor. 

“I give this to you not because you’re ready for it, but because I can see all that was, and all that ever will be. Your journey is far from over, and you have much to learn. But today you did not break. Because of that, I have faith you will earn its purpose. You, the Last of the Time Lords. The Oncoming Storm. The Wielder Who Should Not Be.”

He clenched his jaw. 

“Well, those are all rather… catchy,” he muttered. Then, his gaze narrowed. “You see all that is and all that ever will be?”

Rather than answer, the goddess placed the shard of the hammer in his palm, and time stood still as it began to glow, as if it only answered only to him. 

He locked eyes with her, folding his fingers around the shard as he took a step forward. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips close to her ear, making sure only she could hear the words he spoke. 

It almost alarmed him. The way his voice gave him away. Instead of letting his anger reign, his desperation was worn like a shield. 

“Stop wearing her face . ”

The goddess smiled gently, her eyes darting up to the rift in the sky.

 “She gave it freely.”

Her form flickered, as if the memory was starting to fade. 

“ One day, the wolf will walk and the realms will listen. The stars will sing. And the light will return,” she said, her voice retreating back into the forest . “When the sun devours the moon, the door, blue of nature, will reveal what’s untold. When the Jotnar cries and the mad beast roars, the thunder will strike. They will howl. It will begin. ”

The hair on Rose’s arms began to rise as the goddess not only looked at her, but through her. 

Then, she was gone. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

The council jumped as they appeared back in the chamber, their knees hitting the moss covered floor with a soft thud. 

Adgar’s eyes immediately dropped to the Doctor’s hand.

“Impossible,” he breathed. He didn’t ask permission to examine the shard. His face was pale, laced in fear and agony, as the piece of the hammer glowed against the Doctor’s skin. 

“You were telling the truth,” he whispered. 

The Doctor didn’t say a word. He sat up straight, his gaze locked on Rose, who looked back at the council wearily. 

The Alenrûn was in her hands, as if she’d never let it go. 

Carefully, she set it down. 

Adgar swallowed, then knelt before them. With his headpiece, he towered above them protectively. 

“Are you alright?”

Rose nodded, not trusting her voice. The Doctor was frozen in a way that was so out of character, it made Rose’s heart skip nervously. 

“The Trial of Echoes is meant to test the hearts of those who enter,” Adgar said softly. “I didn’t think you would.. But the fact that you received what the forest had to offer… The hammer has chosen you, Doctor. I apologize. We will help you in any way we can. We will prepare Alfheim to fight once more. I will try to find a way to send word to Sif and tell her of our allegiance, if you are not able to do so yourselves.”

Rose shook her head. “I don’t think we’ll be back for a while.”

Adgar nodded solemnly. “Very well. You must be exhausted, yes?”

Rose shrugged. Agdar looked over at the council. “Let them rest. Then we’ll prepare a meal. One final meeting before they depart, to ensure we know all that we must.”

“Okay,” Rose whispered. Adgar glanced at the Doctor, who was staring at the shard in his hand. 

“Loki is a force to be reckoned with,” Adgar said. “But remember this. You are not alone.” 

At that, the Doctor’s gaze snapped up. He nodded, and soon Vaena was escorting them out of the chamber and back into the forest, down several flights of stairs and over to a new treehouse, where a new room awaited them. 

It was smaller than the council’s chamber, and far more cozy. A bed was tucked inside the tree with a small, circular window above it. A fire burned low in a curved hearth set into the roots. It must be magically enchanted to burn inside the wood, the Doctor thought, but for once he didn’t have the energy to try and understand it. He simply took it all in – the thick woven blankets that were folded neatly at the foot of the bed. The vines that crept along the walls, flowering with glowing buds that pulsed in time with their breath, like the forest was still watching, but giving them space.

The universe didn’t often do that. He was grateful for it now. 

Vaena didn’t speak. She simply gave them a look, something between respect and reverence, and pulled the wooden door shut behind her.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then her arms were around him in a tight embrace, and he hugged her back just as fiercely. 

“Rose…”

She pulled away and cupped his cheeks, looking at him with a furrowed brow. It almost made him smile, how genuinely concerned she seemed to be, and he leaned in and kissed her softly, letting the warmth of her lips calm his beating hearts. 

“What happened in yours?” she whispered. He sighed. 

“The Time War,” he mumbled. “You?”

Rose’s sharp inhale echoed, but then she shrugged, her tongue darting to the corner of her lips. 

“You think that’s hard, I had to watch you eat chips.” 

He smirked. “How appalling.”

“Yeah it is. You forgot the vinegar,” she said, and he laughed, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry…she didn’t need to show that.”

“I passed,” he said with a shrug. “Whatever that means.”

Rose nodded, then took his hand and led him to the bed. She made him sit so she could come stand between his knees, looking down at him while she slowly played with his hair. He groaned. 

“That feels nice.”

“Good,” she said. “She showed me the dimension cannon. Asked me what I’d do to hold onto you.”

He inhaled deeply. “And what did you say?”

“Oh you know,” she said, tilting his chin up to her. “The usual. Told her I made my choice ages ago.” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed, his thumb tracing a symbol in Gallifreyan on her thigh. “She asked me if I’d do it again. Destroy a world.” 

Rose blinked. “Doctor…”

“It’s fine.”

“No it isn’t !” Rose said. “She shouldn't have made you… She… God, and she looked like me .”

He stiffened. “Yeah.”

“She felt like me, too. Sometimes. In moments,” Rose mumbled, and then it was his turn to play with her hair, gently brushing it over her shoulder. “It was weird.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said seriously. “She was a memory. And now she’s gone. We need to focus on this.” 

He held up the shard, still glowing between his fingers. 

“A memory of what ?” 

He exhaled, wanting to change the subject so badly it hurt. But the visions flashed in his head anyway. 

I want you safe, my Doctor…

Her voice, not hers. Her face, not hers. But they both knew him. They both saw him. 

They both loved him. 

“I don’t know, Rose.” 

A lie. A small one maybe. But it tasted like fire on his tongue. 

The only proof he had was fear, and that wasn’t enough. 

For a moment, he expected her to protest. To demand whatever thoughts were brewing in his head. But instead, she sat down next to him and examined the shard. It was the smallest of all the pieces so far, thin and smooth. The light that emanated off of it was almost blinding, yet Rose felt as though she could stare at it for hours. “It’s beautiful.”

“I think it’s the handle,” the Doctor said with a tight throat. “He held this, once…”

“He was brave,” Rose sighed. “Too brave, one might say.”

Their eyes locked, and he could see her devotion to him. It was raw and uncharted, and he knew what she was really saying. He nodded. “Yeah.”

Then, he set the handle down behind him, turning until he was facing her completely. 

“We’re going to be fine.”

She pulled at her lip with her teeth. “But are we gonna be us?” 

He stilled. 

“Course we are,” he breathed, pulling her into a hug. 

She clutched him, burying her face in his neck. 

And he didn’t let her see how much the question rattled him. Instead, he kissed her, lowering her onto the bed. 

He tried to make her forget. If only for a moment.  

He tried so hard.

Chapter Text

She woke up several hours later, naked, wrapped in a blanket. 

The teal sky had faded to a deep shade of purple. The twinkling lights that surrounded the treehouses shimmered like constellations as she slowly sat up, stretching and groaning all at once. Her body ached. Her head ached. And the Doctor was asleep beside her, which made her heart ache. 

He never slept.

The piece of the hammer they’d collected was in the box with the others. He’d placed it there just before they dozed off, safely tucked in his jacket beside the rest of the armor they’d need sooner than she was fully prepared for. 

War was coming. She’d known that, of course. But it felt different this morning.

She gazed out the window at Alfheim, inhaling until her lungs burned. There was so much they should have asked Sif and Tyr. They should have known what the Alenrûn was before they arrived. She should have been prepared when Adgar called her the ‘Child of Light’. Even still, she didn’t fully understand what it meant, but it was ringing in her ears now. The goddess had looked like her. She didn’t have the Doctor’s large brain, but she wasn’t naive enough to believe it was all a coincidence. That it all meant nothing. 

She turned toward him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. 

He was scared, or at least apprehensive. He wouldn’t say it outloud, but she could tell. The goddess stirred something in him , too. It was as obvious as the three words she wasn’t sure she’d ever hear. 

She pressed her tongue to her lip as she reached for him, careful not to wake him. It wasn’t often she got to see him so unguarded. She tugged the blanket over his chest, even though she knew he wasn’t cold, her mind still fixated on the goddess. 

He still hadn’t told her about her role in the Time War. She had no idea how she could have possibly taken part in it, but if she had to guess, she suspected it had something to do with Bad Wolf. That’s what the Esir needed, afterall. The Jotnar had called her the Wolf. It’s what everyone kept telling her, long before this adventure. That there was something of the wolf about her. 

Now, she was the key. The Child of Light. Synestra had called her the "Bad Wolf” as if it was a name, not a thing. The Impossible Human, she’d said. Impossible enough to heal herself.

Because apparently she could do that. 

She fluttered her lips and collapsed back onto the bed. 

She was so tired. So utterly, impossibly tired. She missed the TARDIS. Not because she wanted to escape, but because the ship grounded her. The hum comforted her, and she needed a bit of that today. Just a few months ago she was still hopping between dimensions. She’d never really stopped to question why it worked when everyone around her told her it wouldn’t. The Doctor himself had examined the device and not understood how she’d done it the night they were reunited. She’d always shrugged it off. She didn’t care how. She’d been running for so many years, never stopping, always hoping… 

But maybe it wasn’t the device that worked. 

Maybe it was who used it. 

“Oh, shut up, that’s not…,” she whispered. She couldn't worry about any of that now. They were together again, and that is all that mattered. He was right next to her, the person she’d fought hardest for. He was her strength, not something of the wolf. 

The gods and elves could call her whatever names they wanted. She was used to that sort of thing. The beast, even, had a nickname for her, and what did that end up mattering? The valiant child did not die in battle. 

They would do this. They would find the hammer and stop Loki. Then, they’d return to the stars and carry on. She knew they would. 

Bad Wolf wasn’t going to get what it wanted. It just wasn’t. 

The sheets ruffled as he slowly turned toward her, pulling her attention back to the room as one of his eyes groggily opened. 

“Hi,” he said, his voice rough and low. She smiled.

“Hi.”

He sat up, letting the blanket fall to his waist. For a moment, the twinkling lights shimmered across the room, and Rose smirked when his muscles shuddered as he stretched. Deceptively strong, he was. 

The war could wait another minute, couldn’t it?

He chuckled as she climbed onto his lap, guiding his hands to her tangled hair. They kissed slowly, reverently, as if they had no worries or cares (despite the glaringly obvious). Rose trailed her fingers along his back, pulling him closer until gravity pulled him on top of her. 

Sometimes, she rather liked science. 

He quirked an eyebrow, and she gave him a wicked grin.

“We may not have another chance for a while,” she whispered. “Last I checked we’re late for a date with some giants, or dwarves, or maybe an evil goddess of death? Just to name a few.”

He sighed. “Well, then… I s’pose we have no other choice.”

He brushed his hand along her skin, suppressing his moan as she let out a shaky breath and hooked her leg around his waist. Then his lips were everywhere, his hearts beating rapidly as he took his time, as if he too wanted to make this moment last. As if he too had things he wasn’t saying weighing on his chest. It didn’t matter they’d done this hours before. Each kiss was a promise, each swipe of his tongue a declaration. I’ll keep you safe, they seemed to say. He nipped at her skin and sucked on her neck, and she gasped his name as he slid inside of her slowly and carefully. Each thrust unwound him, each cry undid him. 

Their eyes locked, the bed dipping with the sway of their bodies as if it was made for them. Neither said much of anything, but they supposed they didn’t need to. They knew what this was. They knew what was to come. They knew what wasn’t being said. They were going to write an anthem worth repeating, and neither would admit how uneasy they felt. 

They simply didn’t have time . 

He lowered his lips to hers, groaning, holding her close as he thrust again and again and again, the urgency rising and coiling inside of them until she shattered around him, and it was the call of his name, the desperation in her voice, that gave him permission to fall… 

He came so hard that a few books fell from a nearby shelf. 

Rose laughed, and he didn’t try to roll away, not for several moments. Instead, he brushed his hair out of her eyes and cupped her cheek, gently kissing her jaw. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. He nodded. 

“We probably should – ” he started to say, but suddenly, she groaned. He sat up, giving her a careful look. “What is it?”

She shook her head, eyes squinting shut. 

A wolf howled. 

Her head, which already ached, began to throb . 

She let out a cry of pain as she reached for her temples, and the Doctor was instantly on his feet. He was doing something, saying something, but all she could do was turn on her side and hold her breath as the sensation swelled and the pain intensified. It was the same as before. The same pain she’d felt in the dream, and on the docks of Asgardstrand. 

Somehow, she just knew. 

“It’s here,” she choked out. “The wolf.”

His expression darkened. “Where?”

“I dunno,” she said, sitting up and trying to ignore her headache. She failed, mostly. “We have to go.”

He swallowed, opening his mouth, only to close it again, and she could see the moment he seemed to accept they had no other choice. 

“Do you need help getting dressed?” he asked. She shook her head, wobbly reaching for her clothes. He watched her carefully as he put his own suit back on, making sure everything was accounted for before he helped her anyway, sliding her armor into place. By the time the last piece was strapped to her back there was a knock at the door, urgent and rapid. 

“Come in,” the Doctor said. Vaena practically threw the door open, the Alenrûn in her hands. “Ah, right. We left that behind, didn’t we?” 

When he stepped closer, he realized the box wasn’t what he remembered. 

It had a large crack down the middle. 

“What happened?”

Vaena was trembling. 

“One moment it was fine, the next it started to sing all on its own. And then…”

The buzz of the sonic screwdriver filled the room. The Doctor furrowed his brow, scanning it again. Then again. 

“It sang and then cracked?” Rose asked, moving to stand beside the Doctor, her head still throbbing. They both stared at the box incredulously. 

“No,” he murmured. “It wasn’t singing.” He scanned the box again, just to make sure, because it was impossible. Absolutely impossible, what he was reading.  “I think it was trying to scream . This says its vocal chords have been fried…”

Vaena's face paled. The Doctor, confused, looked at her. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Vaena admitted. “That is part of its design. It's sentient, you see. You were able to open it, but now that it's awake, it sees what’s to come. Something is bringing the world toward ruin, Doctor.”

“Loki?” the Doctor clarified. Rose’s gaze dropped toward the box, a shiver running through her spine. 

Her head… 

She tried to ignore it. So far, she was doing better than she ever had before, even if it was still agonizing.  

“Did you see a wolf out there?”

Vaena shook her head. “No, Child. I’m sorry. We do not have wolves in Alfheim. Not since Odin’s death. Why do you ask?”

The Doctor sniffed and tightened his grip around his sonic screwdriver. “Right, well, love to stay and chat, but we –” 

“I know,” Vaena murmured, interrupting him. “You have to go. I came to see what you needed. Adgar is alerting the others. We will try to find a way to make contact with Asgard. We will help in any way we can.”

She stepped to the side as they pushed past her, ignoring the weary looks from the other elves still high in the treetops as they ran down the stairs, back into the bottom of the forest. Rose’s head was still aching, but she managed to keep her focus, looking through the twinkling lights toward a path that would eventually lead them to the other side of the village.

“Has it cracked before?” the Doctor asked, still trying to examine the box. Vaena nodded. 

“It shattered completely before Ragnarok and repaired itself after Thor’s sacrifice. That’s when Sif took it back to Asgard for safekeeping.”

The Doctor swallowed and glanced at Rose, who had stopped walking. She was staring at a line of twinkling trees with a narrowed gaze, shoulders tense, jaw tight. 

“This way,” she said, and neither the Doctor nor Vaena asked her to explain. They simply followed her, keeping a close eye on everything around them. Adgar was running from treehouse to treehouse. Many elves were gathering weapons, bowing to them not in respect, but urgency. 

War was coming, alright. 

Rose stopped abruptly, causing the Doctor to nearly stumble into her. 

“I –” she started, but the Alenrûn tried to sing again , the sound distorted and low. The notes rang in the trees, dissonant and off-key. 

It sounded exactly like a scream.

Another crack formed in its side.  

The Doctor clenched his jaw so tightly he ground his teeth. “I think we should –”

“Run!” Rose shouted, then bolted through the trees. Without a second thought, he ran too. 

Vaena called after them, but Rose had grabbed his hand and was guiding him through this new part of the forest so fast everything around them was a blur of green and purple. Twinkling lights carried them into a new village, then another, and for once they didn’t stop to appreciate the serenity of it all. He never made a quip or joke. They ran until they couldn’t; until a waterfall stood before them, bright blue and clear. It spilled into a river that danced at their feet, the water almost shimmering under the purple sky. 

Across the bank, the wolf waited.

Its fur was as white as snow, its bright blue eyes were wide. It wagged its tail once, then twice, tilting its head at them. Rose waited for her headache to surge, for a blinding pain to cripple her, but it didn’t. 

The wolf didn’t howl. 

It watched .  

“Please tell me you can see it, too,” Rose whispered, desperately. 

The Doctor blinked, squeezing her hand. “Yeah.” A moment passed. “How’s your head?”

“Hurts, but not too badly,” Rose admitted. “What do we do?”

“I think you have to tell me,” he said. 

“I don’t know,” Rose groaned. “I don’t know how to –” 

But the wolf suddenly howled, then vanished, and the pressure in Rose’s head dissipated instantly. 

She stumbled a little, holding onto the Doctor as she stared at the spot the wolf had just stood. Everything was clearer. The trees were greener, the sky more indigo than purple. And when she looked closer, she saw two words etched in the sand. 

Bad Wolf. 

“Oh, my God.”

The Doctor tugged at his ear, holding her hand tightly. They jumped across the shore together, and he frowned. Because there were no footprints, or ripples in the water. No evidence the wolf was here at all. 

Just silence.

“It can’t have just vanished,” he said, but Rose was kneeling by the sand, staring at the words that were so obvious it made her head spin. 

“Bad Wolf,” she said, and the Doctor’s curious expression fell. He could see it now, blatantly carved in the sand. 

“It takes the words and scatters them…” he muttered under his breath, and Rose turned to look at him, because she could almost swear she had a faint memory of saying something like that before. On a day she can’t quite remember. 

The Doctor cleared his throat. He still hadn’t told her everything. She knew Bad Wolf led her back to him, she knew she looked into the heart of the TARDIS to save him, she knew he regenerated, she knew she’d had something to do with the Time War… but if he had any hope of keeping her safe, she deserved to know the entire truth. 

He should have told her ages ago. What she became. 

The goddess was right. He wanted to bear the burden alone, but he wasn’t protecting her… 

“Rose –” 

She was standing, and when she spoke, the eagerness in her tone told him she wasn’t listening to him. She’d found something, and he felt his hearts skip a beat. 

“There’s a gate here. Somewhere. There has to be,” she said. Water sprayed her face as she dragged her hand along the mountain. “Doctor, come feel this. There’s like a hum in the rock, isn’t there?”

Her fascination for the universe stirred something inside of him, and he couldn’t resist doing as she asked. He held out his hand, sighing as the unmistakable thrum of time echoed inside the stone. He nodded. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Yes, there is.”

Rose’s smile was brighter than the sun. 

“That’s brilliant,” she said. “Come on.” 

She slipped through the waterfall entirely, standing in an alcove that smelled like mist and rain and something ancient. Something unmistakeable. The Doctor followed her, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. 

“Loki must have done something that made that box crack,” he said seriously. “Whatever we’re about to walk into –” 

“It’s okay. We’ll handle it, yeah?” Rose said, staring at the ceiling. The rock curved around itself, creating a lattice shape that looked like branches spewing out of a tree. Yggdrasil, if she had to guess. 

“Where do you suppose they lead?” she whispered, her eyes tracing the path of each branch. She followed the largest one to the back of the cave, and the Doctor was silent behind her, not quite sure what she was seeing. Everything, to him, merely looked like stone.

She was the key, he reminded himself. Everything was fine.

She bit her lip as she began to spot runes carved into different rocks. She couldn’t read it, but she knew from the Doctor’s explanation when they first arrived it was the Elder Futhark. His brow furrowed as she brushed a hand over each one, and one by one, they all started to glow a soft blue. 

There was no mistaking the portal that was starting to form.

The Doctor took her hand. 

“Rose,” he whispered, but she took a step forward and did the only thing she could think of. She pressed her palm through the door. 

Then she screamed. 

ᛃᛟᚱᛗᚢᚾᚷᚨᚱᛞᚱ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᚹᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᚨᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛊᛏᛟᚱᛗ 

The world lost all color except red. 

The sky churned with fire. Molten clouds spiraled in furious vortexes, glowing gold and crimson, as if the sun and the moon were warring with a world already lost to ruin. Jagged mountains pierced the horizon like blackened teeth, their peaks glowing with embers, constantly raining fire into the rivers of lava that carved through the scorched land below.

Flames erupted from deep fissures in the earth. Geysers of light illuminated the smoky air. The ground cracked and bled, glowing red at the seams like it was stitched together by blood. Rivers of lava twisted and split the land into separate islands, all glowing, all red. 

The Doctor cursed. 

There was no wind, only heat. A heavy, suffocating pressure clung to his skin, and though the sun hovered in the distance, its heat was not comforting.  Only a warning.

This wasn’t just fire. 

It was judgment.

“Muspelheim,” he said through gritted teeth. “Land of the giants.”

“Are we inside a volcano?” Rose asked. 

“I don’t know,” he said. “Possibly. Step only on black rock. That means it’s cooled. Everything else? Pretend it’s instant death.”

“This is horrible,” Rose said with wide eyes. “It’s like the world is on fire…” 

The Doctor pressed a kiss to her head. “This world is. Just watch where you step.”

Slowly, they began to traverse the earth around them, making sure to step on black rock only. Even then, the bottoms of their feet still felt warm, and the Doctor was certain the only reason their shoes didn’t melt was because of whatever magic Sif had placed on them. For several minutes they moved aimlessly, until the Doctor remembered the tablet Sif and Tyr had given them. 

But the map was blank. Nothing but ancient stone.

He paused for a moment, and Rose shouted when he stuck the whole thing in the lava at their feet. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“Sif said it herself, this was forged in fire!” he explained, smiling a little when Rose looked at him like he was crazy. “There are several ciphers that need heat to activate the codes. That’s what this map is, really. A cipher. Sort of. Anyway, it’s just a guess, but –” 

Sure enough, to Rose’s surprise, ridges on the tablet began to appear as if the map was coming to life. 

“HA!” the Doctor shouted, and like he was playing hot potato, he tossed the tablet in the air several times until he felt it was safe to hold. Rose came up behind him, peering over his shoulder at the intricate lines that formed passageways and paths, until the entirety of the realm was outlined before them. 

It was massive. Far too massive to even think about where the hammer could be. 

They both sighed. 

“Is it… moving?” she asked, squinting at several lines. 

The Doctor frowned. “No, I don’t think so.”

But Rose felt her skin crawl, because yes. The map she saw was moving. The lines weren’t still. They pulsed, glowing brighter in some sections than others, shifting slightly, as if a current of fire was guiding them in a certain direction. But before she could explain, the ground beneath them began to roar. The small islands separated by lava rippled as a wave rolled beneath them, and the Doctor grabbed Rose’s waist, tucking her into his side. 

“What was that?”

“Oh, could be a bit of volcanic indigestion,” he muttered, trying to make a joke, but it happened again. A deep, guttural rumble caused the lava to bubble, the molten rock to melt, and a massive plume of fire shot into the sky.

From the fire, a giant began to wake, its massive hands pulling its body from the depths.  

“Then again, maybe not. That’ll be the welcome committee,” the Doctor shouted. “RUN!” 

They did the best they could, leaping across the burning ground, dodging molten bursts and jagged cracks. The air thickened around them, blistering and heavy. Rose stumbled once, but the Doctor caught her by the elbow and yanked her forward, his eyes flicking between the map and the chaos around them.

“WHO GOES THERE?” a voice bellowed, and the Doctor turned just in time to see a giant step forward, its face towering above them. Its eyes blazed white-hot, its body rippling with molten veins, and when it opened its mouth again, smoke poured from its throat like breath. “WHO DARES CROSS THE SONS OF MUSPELL?”

The Doctor glanced down at the map. “Left. Go left, now .”

Rose did as he said, jumping to the next patch of black stone. The giant sniffed the air, turning toward them as they jumped again and ran across a new island, trying desperately to escape. 

“The Sons of Muspell,” the Doctor said. “According to legend, they broke Bifröst during Ragnarok.”

The ground lurched again, a rolling quake that sent fractures racing toward their feet. A molten geyser erupted to their right, forcing them to veer hard left.

“They weren’t just soldiers,” the Doctor went on, breathless. “They were the fire itself . The giants of flame. They don’t burn things down, they unmake the world.”

“There’s always one, isn't there,” Rose muttered, eyes locked on the next leap. “Are they fast?”

The giant took a step, and a whole island sank beneath its foot.

“I really, really hope not,” the Doctor said. 

“YOU TRESPASS,” the giant roared. “YOU, THAT FILL THE SKY WITH LIGHT THAT DOES NOT BELONG.” 

“I think he means you, love!” the Doctor said, the endearment slipping out, but Rose didn’t have time to react. “There are three of them. Three sons. Their father is Surtur, who guards the realm with a mighty sword of fire.”

“And he’s still alive?” Rose asked. The Doctor nodded. 

“According to the books Sif gave me, yes,” he said. “He was too powerful for even Odin to kill.”

The giant stepped again, and Rose yanked the Doctor back as a wave of lava splashed the spot where he’d been standing. He smiled at her as the air trembled, as the sky bled. 

“Thanks,” he said.

“Run, yeah?” she insisted, and together they moved forward as the giant behind them was joined by another. Each moved with a slow, devastating force, like mountains deciding they no longer wanted to hold still. One of them raised its arm. Flames twisted around his fingers, forming a massive chain of molten fire. Link by link the chain grew longer, and Rose’s eyes widened as it lifted it above its head, twirling it once. Then twice. 

“He’s not going to throw that at us, is he?” she asked in shock.

“I think he’s going to lasso us with it,” the Doctor muttered. “Which, if so, well done . That’s a thing of beauty, that is –” 

Before they could jump again, the fire snapped forward like a whip. The Doctor pulled Rose down just in time, the heat barely missing the tops of their heads as the chain roared past. It slammed into the stone behind them, shattering it instantly.

“Right,” the Doctor said, getting to his feet. “No more history lessons. Go that way!”

“Let me see the map,” Rose insisted, but the lasso snapped again at another stone, and she knew they didn’t have time to plan a route. So they sprinted, lungs burning, and after a few moments she noticed that with every step, the fire in the cracks beneath them began to pulse. 

Like the map, it seemed to be…alive.

She paused.

“Doctor—”

“Rose, move !”

But she didn’t.

Because suddenly, in the fire below her feet, the map appeared. Not on the tablet, but on the lava itself. Lines of light shimmered between the molten glow, forming the same ridges she’d seen before. But this time, they shifted , moving in time with her breath, like they were reacting to her.

Guiding her, she realized. Guiding them. 

She grabbed his hand and chased each pulse, jumping from stone to stone. More fire lunged for them. The giants roared, but the fire began to rise like embers caught in the wind. An image began to take shape in the smoke. 

Rose stopped. 

She could see it so clearly. 

A wolf being struck by lightning. 

A hammer falling from the sky. 

The Doctor was screaming her name, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

The vision twisted, and now it wasn’t just lightning filling the sky, but a full blown storm. A figure was holding something heavy in their hands. Their eyes were glowing. Their hair lifted like it was caught in the wind. As they opened their mouth and roared, the sky cracked open.

And then it was gone.

She staggered back straight into the Doctor’s arms, who was looking at her with a wild expression. The fire at her feet began to ripple again, and behind them, another voice echoed. 

“Daughter of flame… ”

The giants stopped.

The Doctor froze.

“...she returns.”

In the distance, a low hum began to rise. Something ancient was waking up, something buried beneath the lava. A heartbeat. A drumbeat. A call .

The Doctor took Rose’s hand again, tighter this time.

“What did you see?” he asked, his voice more desperate than she’d ever heard it. She didn’t answer at first. She couldn’t. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might drown out the chaos that was rising beneath them.

It didn’t. 

“I saw... someone,” she whispered finally. “They were holding the hammer. They weren’t struck by lightning. They were the lightning.”

The Doctor swallowed hard. “You saw yourself, didn’t you?”

She shook her head. “I think I saw you. ” 

His expression hardened, and he gripped her shoulders, looking up just as another belt of fire launched itself toward them. This time they couldn’t react fast enough, and both were hit across their bellies and thrown backwards, landing on opposite sides of the scorched island. 

A searing pain rippled through Rose as she scrambled to her feet, but the Doctor was already standing. Their armor, it seemed, had worked well enough for a blow like that not to kill them, and he was at her side a moment later, wincing a little as they held hands. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. She coughed. “Rose?”

“I think so, yeah,” she choked out. “Doctor, this is gonna sound mad, but I can see the map on the ground. It’s moving.”

He stared at her for a fraction of a second, then nodded. “Where do we go?”

“That way,” she said, pointing in front of her, and the Doctor let her take the lead, looking down at the tablet to see what sort of terrain was coming up ahead. They twisted and jumped, dodging more flames, until the giants surrounded them. 

There were three, just like the Doctor had suspected. 

“WHO ARE YOU?” one shouted. Its face crackled in lava, its skin hot and melting. “DAUGHTER OF FLAME. WHO DO YOU BRING WITH YOU?”

The giants’ fiery cries shook the air as their chains whipped forward, but Rose and the Doctor were faster, darting between cooled patches of stone with practiced precision. The Doctor’s eyes flicked between the giants, calculating. Their massive bodies blazed with molten fury, but despite their size, there was a method to their movements. Slow, deliberate, like tectonic plates shifting.

“Oh, Rose Tyler,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh, oh, oh, OH!!!” 

“What?” she asked, but he was already moving, pressing the tip of the sonic screwdriver into the cracks at their feet. She ran after him. “Doctor, what ?”

“We can’t outfight them,” he said quietly, tightening his grip on the sonic screwdriver. “But we can outsmart them. Remember, these aren’t just giants. They’re embodiments of fire and destruction. They are an element. They are bound by the laws of physics, even here.”

“Which means?”

The Doctor glanced up, eyes bright with that familiar spark of mischief and brilliance. “Which means, Rose Tyler, we treat them like the force of nature they are! If fire needs fuel to burn, what do you do? You starve it. If lava needs a path, you block it. If they move like tectonic plates, we shake the ground beneath them and make it unstable.”

Rose’s breath hitched, heart pounding. “So you’re saying… we cause an earthquake?”

“Exactly!” the Doctor cried, his grin widening. “A controlled one. One only strong enough to slow them down. Then we run like we’ve never run before. We don’t fight fire with fire. We fight it with the ground beneath its feet.”

He jabbed his sonic into the earth, sending a low, rhythmic pulse through the cracked stone. The ground trembled faintly, and Rose watched with bated breath as the ridge above the giants’ heads began to shake. 

Then, the earth ricocheted. 

The cracks of fire the giants’ stood on top of split wide open, glowing with blinding light. A guttural groan echoed from deep below, and suddenly, one of the giants dropped like a collapsing mountain. The other two stumbled, their chains lashing wildly as the terrain shifted beneath them, until they too were caught between the shifting earth. 

They all roared, but were unable to move, effectively caught in a faultline. 

“NOW! GOGOGOGO, RUN!” the Doctor screamed, grabbing Rose. They followed the ripples of light she could see on the map that was still sprawled beneath her, the Doctor still confirming they weren’t heading for a dead end on the tablet Sif gave them, when suddenly a mountain before them began to move. Like a cat unfurling, it curled upward until a new giant blocked their path. 

He was so much larger than the others it was almost laughable. A towering colossus of flame and rage, whose skin was forged of more than fire, but of the earth itself. Jagged armor clung to him, as black as obsidian. Flames licked across his chest and shoulders, pulsing in time with some ancient, volcanic heartbeat.

To her surprise, Rose could sense it, the epic pa-pum of his heart. 

The Doctor could, too. 

His face was a mask of wrath. Teeth sneered at them like smoldering fangs. His eyes burned into them, and from his brow jutted a massive black crown of twisted iron, two horns glowing at the edges like it had been pulled from the forge mere seconds ago.

He reminded them both of the Beast, but instead of prophecies, he held a sword they could tell was the cause of death and destruction. 

When he stepped forward, it was as if the world flinched.

Surtur. 

The Doctor skidded to a halt, tucking Rose behind him. 

“YOU DARE DISTURB MY SLUMBER?!”

“Oi, do they always have to shout?” Rose grumbled. 

“God-complex, hard to explain,” the Doctor sighed. Then, he squeezed her hand. “Rose…” 

“I know,” she said. “How do we outsmart him ?” 

Surtur glowered at them. He raised his sword, and both Rose and the Doctor ran to the side as he swiped the air. Heat radiated off the blade, sparks flying in a million different directions. 

“WHO DARES TO WAKE ME?”

“Wasn’t trying to, I assure you!” the Doctor shouted. “Now, if you let us go, we’ll be on our way!” 

But Surtur moved to stop them, staring at them with interest. 

Then, he screamed, and in the distance, a volcano erupted.

The Doctor groaned. “Oh, that’s… well…” 

There was no reasoning with him, it seemed. Everything she learned while in the parallel world came into play as Rose dodge rolled away from flying rock. The Doctor was thinking, calculating, weighing every possible option for survival in his very large brain as Surtur continued to scream and rage. 

“DAUGHTER OF FLAME,” he snarled. “YOU RETURN. YOU, AND THE ONE WHO WILL BREAK THE NINE.”

“Rose, don’t –” the Doctor warned, but Rose took a step forward, looking up at Surtur’s face. Or, at least at what she could see of it. 

“I’ve never been here before,” she said calmly. “I’m not the Daughter of Flame. Though, I s’pose my Mum could be a bit of a firecracker.” She smiled sadly. “My name is Rose, yeah? That’s the Doctor. Look, we’re trying to stop Loki. Do you know him? Tall blue bloke?”

The Doctor reached for her. “Rose, get back here!” 

Surtur roared, fire landing inches away from Rose’s face. She winced, but held her ground. 

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK HIS NAME.” 

The Doctor grabbed Rose and yanked her back just as the rock beneath them began to melt. Surtur’s fury soared, his sword waved above them, and he charged after them, destruction following him like a dog with a bone. 

“So you do know him, then? Loki?” Rose called. Surtur’s sword struck another rock, shattering it. “He’s coming back! We need your help! We need the piece of Thor’s hammer you have in this realm. We need –” 

But Surtur's sword aimed to strike. 

And the Doctor leapt in front of her. 

He screamed as fire pieced his shoulder, the blade slicing through him. Pain crawled through his entire arm before he fell onto his side. He extinguished the flames quickly enough, but even with Sif’s magic armor he could feel his flesh starting to bubble, and he clenched his jaw as he looked at Surtur, the rage of his own storm coming to life. 

“Oh, big mistake.”

Surtur glared at him. The Doctor, with his uninjured arm, pressed his sonic screwdriver to another crack in the ground, and once again, the earth began to rattle. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Rose screamed as she helped him up. She moved to examine his arm, but he stopped her. 

“That you’re everything I’ve already lost once,” he said simply, rubbing his shoulder. “And I’m not going to do it again.”

Rose blinked. “Doctor —” 

He kissed her. Briefly, hotly, pulling away after a second but still managing to leave her breathless. 

“Find us a way out,” he whispered, then turned to face Surtur directly. Rose’s own fury began to swell as he charged toward the giant, and she ran after him. 

She grabbed his jacket, spinning him around. 

“You do not make my decisions for me,” she snapped. “You do not throw yourself into fire for me unless I am coming with you. You do not stand up against a bloody giant alone . We’re in this together. Just because you can regenerate doesn't mean you should, so shut up.” 

His throat bobbed, because the passion in her eyes stunned him. He could practically see her skin glowing gold, could practically hear the goddess’ voice – her voice – echo in his ear. 

“ Everytime you hide your fear, your guilt, your love… You’re not protecting her, you are robbing her of a choice. And then you tell yourself you’re doing the right thing. That it’s the cost of being the Doctor. But really, you rob yourself of freedom.”

“You’re right,” he said. 

Rose bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. “I can’t lose you, either. You can’t do things like that..” 

“I know.” 

Surtur chanted, and fire began to rain from the sky. 

They ran, crouching beneath a fallen stone. They needed a moment to think . Rose gingerly touched his shoulder, not missing the way he recoiled in pain, but the giant was throwing orbs of fire in their direction, and they both turned toward him, forced to roll to the side and hide under a different stone. 

 Rose’s brow furrowed when she felt it again. The epic pa-pum of Sutur’s heart. 

The Doctor froze. 

“Something is… calling to me, I think,” Rose whispered. 

“Not just you,” the Doctor said, tilting his head. Surtur swung his sword, breaking more stones. “I feel it, too.”

Pa-pum. 

Pa-pum. 

They both gasped. 

“It’s his heart,” they both said. 

“The shard,” Rose continued, “The hammer. It’s…”

The Doctor’s eyes widened as he grabbed Rose’s hand. A sudden burst of fire nearly engulfed them both, but somehow, it didn’t. 

He looked down. From their clasped palms, a golden light had speared toward Sutur, blocking his attack, melting the fire he so angrily wielded. 

The Doctor knew he probably should, but he didn’t question it. 

He aimed the light at Sutur’s chest, watching in horror (and a little bit of awe) as it pierced his molten flesh effortlessly. For a breathless moment, everything stopped. The fire froze mid-air. The earth held its breath. Even Surtur stood still, eyes wide, as the golden light broke through his obsidian armor and struck the core of his being.

His chest cracked , the sound not like the breaking of bone, but of something much older. 

Something divine. 

“Oh, my God,” Rose said as Surtur stumbled backward, the sword slipping from his grip with a resounding clang . Lava hissed beneath him as he fell to one knee, his voice reduced from a roar to a guttural, choked growl. 

Then, he looked up, his eyes blazing with renewed fury, and the ground trembled beneath his wrath. 

“Even Odin could not kill me,” he said, no longer screaming. “What makes you think you can?”

“We don’t want to kill you,” the Doctor said. “We just need the thing in your chest.”

Surtur laughed, standing slowly. “You, who bears no birthright. You, who carries no crown. You, who are not the God they prayed to. You seek what the fire bade me keep?”

“That’s a lot of poetic speech, and we don’t really have time for that,” the Doctor said, pulling himself away from the rocks to stare at Sutur directly. “Do you want Loki to unmake the world, or do you want the chance to do that yourself one day?”

Sutur sneered, his next laugh rumbling through the valley like an avalanche of fire. It wasn’t amusement. It was disbelief, ancient and searing.

“ Unmake the world?” he echoed, voice low now, more dangerous. “ That is his plan?”

The Doctor nodded, breathing hard. “It is. He’s already cracked through some of the realms. Asgard has fought him, Alfheim may soon bleed. Even Midgard can feel it. You can too, can’t you? The fire flickering out beneath your feet. He’s coming back.”

Surtur tilted his head, regarding the Doctor like one might regard a speck of dust. “I have watched nine realms rise and fall before. I was there when your Esir first tasted fear. I burned their temples and shattered their thrones. I do not feel .”

And yet… his hand moved to his chest.

The shard pulsed again, throbbing like a wound. 

Or a broken heart. 

Rose stepped forward, her own heart hammering in time with the shard’s rhythm.

“You kept it,” she said softly. “All these years. You guarded it. You care about what happens to it, don’t you?”

“You’re not protecting the shard,” the Doctor realized. “You’re… mourning it.”

Surtur snarled as if to deny it, but he didn’t.

 And the Doctor smiled his widest grin. 

“Ohhh, you feel ,” he breathed. “Oh yes, Surtur. You feel !! OH, and doesn’t it hurt ? That’s the point! That’s the beauty of it!”

“Beauty of what ?” Surtur growled.

The Doctor spread his arms, lit by the glow of the shard between them.

“Of being alive ! You never felt it before, did you? You never knew what it was to love something so much it ruins you when it’s gone! To care ! You thought it was a curse, what Sif left you. But you’ve learned it was a gift.”

Surtur stared at him. The Doctor laughed.

“It was a final act of trust , and you accepted it because of course you did!” he laughed again, spinning in a circle as he pieced it all together. “OH THAT’S BRILLIANT! The grief that even giants can feel. You didn’t bury it in the mountain, you buried it in your chest . You didn’t carry a weapon. You carried her hope .”

Surtur’s jaw clenched.  “You do not know—”

“Oh, but I do ,” the Doctor said, voice low and trembling. “Grief like that? It doesn’t just sit in you. It reshapes you. That’s what love leaves behind, and you felt it the moment she handed it to you. You took the shard because you couldn’t let it fall into the wrong hands. You held it for someone who might come and be worthy of it. Not in might, but in grief . You waited.”

Surtur’s massive shoulders rose and fell, flame spilling from his ribs.

“Do not mistake duty for loyalty,” he said at last. “The fire bade me take it. I do not serve Asgard. Or Midgard. Or you.”

The Doctor stepped forward, hearts still pounding.

“Good,” he said softly. “Because neither do we.”

And then, without flinching, he turned to Rose.

“I don’t believe in gods.I believe in her .”

Surtur paused, the fire at his feet dimming ever so slightly.

“If you don’t trust me, that’s fine. But you can trust her,” the Doctor said slowly. 

Rose’s heart stopped in her chest as Surtur took a step toward her.

“Daughter of Flame,” he said cooly. “The fire remembers you, but you do not remember me. Yet you remember the gift I bestowed on you – to see what we can see if the fire. If you fight now, you will burn."

Rose didn’t flinch. “Then help us.”

Surtur didn’t move.

Then, he roared. 

Lava geysered around them as he raised his sword once more, fire flooding his limbs like blood made of suns.

“I am the fire,” he bellowed. “I do not help . I consume.”

He charged.

The Doctor sighed, leaping over a fallen stone as they bolted away from his attack. Rose flung out their joined hands, sparks of light hovering between their fingers, but this time, it faltered. Surtur was angrier, and his power echoing the remnants of every flame he’d ever touched. 

The Doctor pulled her back as his sword shattered every rock that surrounded them. Heat singed their clothes, and Rose screamed when embers touched the bare skin on her neck. They ran as fast as they could, dodging fire, throwing arrows, but now they were both getting burned. 

Surtur glared at them, the golden light still glimmering faintly from the wound in his chest. 

The shard pulsed.

This time, the Doctor didn’t hesitate. He reached for his sonic screwdriver, once again pressing it into the cracks on the ground, trying to disrupt the earth the giant stood on. But it was no use. Surtur was too strong, and the Doctor glanced up in horror as his foot stepped mere feet away from Rose. 

When he grabbed her hand again, the beam of light speared Surtur’s chest once more. 

Rose’s eyes began to glow, just for a moment. 

“Let go!” the Doctor ordered, but she didn’t. 

“Not yet,” she cried, and they both watched as the light ripped a hole in Surtur’s chest. As he let out a roar of desperation, of pain, of grief, and collapsed to his knees. 

Then, it all stopped. 

The fire no longer rained. The molten lava no longer flowed. For a heartbeat, the entirety of Muspelheim froze . 

“I told her,” Surtur growled. “I told her the forge was no place for love.”

“She knew that,” the Doctor said, kneeling near Surtur’s chest. “That’s why she asked you to do it. You kept the shard safe, and she knew you wouldn’t be able to destroy it. It doesn't belong in this world.”

Surtur’s eyes burned not with rage now, but with something older. Wearier.

“Daughter of Flame,” he said, looking at Rose. “You have wounded me. That should not be possible.”

The Doctor swallowed. “Sorry.”

Surtur sighed, the sound endless and heavy. “Tell me. Do you know grief like hers?” 

“I do,” the Doctor whispered. The shard in Surtur’s chest pulsed once more, slower now, like a dying star. A heartbeat. A choice.

“Then take it,” he said at last. “Take the piece she left behind.”

The Doctor reached out, hesitating, just for a moment.

“But hear me, Wielder Who Should Not Be. You are not the God they chose, you are all that remains,” Surtur continued, voice like rattling the earth. “And if you fail, if you let the Daughter fall, if this love dies a second death…. I will burn the Nine Realms to ash. Not for vengeance. Not for glory. But because the fire will have nothing left to remember.”

The silence that followed cracked like thunder.

The Doctor nodded once, his throat bobbing. “Fair enough.”

Surtur lowered his head.

And the shard rose, hovering above his chest.

The Doctor took it, then grabbed Rose, trying to pull her away, but she was staring at the giant with a sense of awe. 

The Doctor watched as she kissed his cheek. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

“Rose, come on,” the Doctor urged as the sky cracked, as the fire began to rage again. 

As Muspelheim awoke, Surtur pressed a hand to his cheek. 

They ran.

Chapter Text

They didn’t speak.

Not when a cavern collapsed behind them, molten stone crashing down like the closing of a tomb. Not when the shard in the Doctor’s hand pulsed with residual heat, still glowing faintly with power. Not even when they stumbled through an arch of blackened obsidian and collapsed onto a cliffside away from the valley.

The air was thin. The giants were no longer attacking, but the realm still felt furious . Ash fell like snow, clinging to their skin and lashes. The sky above them had turned black, though fire still bled through distant canyons, as if Muspelheim resented their escape. As if it was trying to find them. 

They needed to get out here as quickly as possible, but everything hurt. 

The Doctor doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping in air that felt too hot to be real. Rose sank beside him, her back hitting the obsidian edge of the cliff as her legs gave out. Even in the darkness, he could see the burns along her neck and arms, and he could feel his, too. They were everywhere, and he sat beside her with a gruff sigh, wincing at the effort it took, staring up at the sky. 

The only sound was the wind, and the steady thrum of three wild hearts. 

“You kissed a fire giant,” he said after several moments, still breathless. “You kissed Surtur. ”

Rose didn’t look at him. “He wasn’t a monster.”

“No,” the Doctor said, smiling a little at how perfectly Rose that response was. “He wasn’t.”

Rose smiled too, fluttering her lips. “You called me ‘ love ’.”

“Did I?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, and they both smiled at each other as Rose leaned her head on his shoulder, watching the ash fall. He closed his eyes for a moment.

“It’s almost beautiful,” she whispered. “If it wasn’t so horrible.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, pressing his head against the obsidian cliff. The way the ash looked against the fire reminded him so much of his last memories of Gallifrey, it was taking every ounce of restraint he had not to dwell on the fact that while the fire outside had quieted some, the one inside of him probably never would. But while Muspelheim’s fire was raw and primal, he knew Gallifrey’s had been something worse. Something righteous and manufactured. At its core, it was cold. The kind of fire that came from minds too old, from hearts too convinced of their own necessity. From a war that could have been prevented. 

A war he tried to end, but didn’t . 

A war he’d dragged her into, once. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, unable to control the next words that slipped from his mouth. The ones he should have said ages ago….

“You became a God.”

Rose looked up at him, brow furrowed. “What?”

“That day,” he said slowly, his hearts thumping in his chest to the rhythm of " don't be a coward.”   He sighed. “When you looked into the heart of the TARDIS. For a moment, Rose… You were more than the universe was prepared to hold.”

He paused, trying to figure out how best to explain. She stared at him with eyes so wide, he nearly ran away. 

“Not human, or Time Lord. Not even a God, really. You were more than all of that. You were time and space and everything in between. You were so beautiful … And you terrified me.”

She pulled away, her shoulders tensing as he continued. 

“That’s the power I took out of you,” he whispered. “That’s Bad Wolf at its core. I’m not sure how you didn’t die immediately, if I’m honest. But while you had it… You fought in the Time War. Technically. Thousands of years later, but time is rather… wibbly and wobbly…” He paused, smiling bitterly. “They made my world look like this realm, but with a single wave of your hand, you made the Daleks vanish. Well… until they didn’t. But that’s…”   

Rose was fairly certain she’d forgotten how to breathe.

“I don’t remember any of that,” she whispered. He nodded. 

“Good. You aren’t supposed to,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “I never told you.”

“Why?” she whispered. He closed his eyes. 

 “Because I couldn’t. Because I didn’t know what the effects might be to your mind if I had. There were so many reasons, Rose, but I s’pose…” he paused, fighting the impulse to change the subject. “I s’pose all that really matters is the selfish one. That I didn’t want you to remember that you’d saved me and I repaid you by taking something from you. Something I didn’t understand.”

“But you saved me,” she said, voice thick now. “And I saved you. I don’t care about the rest of it.”

“I erased divinity from your cells like it was a virus.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Which it was. No human is meant to contain that much power. That’s what I told myself for years, anyway. That it should have killed you instantly. But there’s a truth I never allowed myself to consider. Which is that somehow… it didn’t. Somehow, you held onto it for two minutes and twenty-eight seconds. I was too frightened to see what would happen had I not stopped it.”

“And so… you think it’s come back?” Rose said, more of a statement than a question. He sighed. 

“I think everyone around us hopes it has.”

“Do you? Hope it has?” 

He swallowed, then shook his head. Rose inhaled slowly, wincing a little at the heat that seared her lungs. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees, quiet for a long time. Then, almost too softly to hear, she said, “Why are you telling me now?”

He opened his mouth, though it took a long time to find the words. “Because of everything. Because we quite literally just fought a myth with a power that is beyond my understanding. And because you deserved to know a long time ago,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

Her brow furrowed. “For what?”

He cleared his throat. “I was scared, Rose.” He looked away, unconsciously focusing on the orangest part of the fire before he continued. “You saw everything that was and all that ever will be. You saw me . All of me. Every version. Every terrible, broken part. And you chose me anyway.”

“And you didn’t think you deserved it?”

He huffed dryly. “Still don’t.”

“Well,” she said, leaning her head back onto his shoulder again, “tough luck.”

They sat like that in the embers, the shard glowing gently between them. The Doctor let his eyes close as the weight of the moment settled deep into his bones, as the truth he’d carried for years lingered in the open for all to hear. For a moment, at least, there was no saving to be done. Just ash in the sky and the girl who refused to leave his side.

The girl who had once held all of time in her hands, and let it go so she could hold his. 

His fingers inched toward hers, interlacing and squeezing.

Rose shifted slightly beside him. “Do you think it’s still in me?” she asked quietly. 

Oh…

That was the question he was afraid to answer, wasn’t it? The one where the only proof he had was fear, and he wasn’t sure that was enough. And of course she’d ask it. Of course she would. 

His throat bobbed. 

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe not in the way it was. Maybe it’s like stardust now. Fragments of something bigger, scattered through your bones.”

Rose nodded. “So… you think I’m changing?”

“I think you already did, once.”

“Does that scare you?” she whispered. 

He looked at her. Really, truly looked. His eyes traced the burn marks on her cheeks, and the ash near her lips. It was raw and real and honest, and it took Rose’s breath away as he leaned in and kissed her forehead. 

“What matters, Rose, is does it scare you? ” he whispered. 

She inhaled sharply, marveling at how her tears evaporated in the heat before she had the chance to wipe them away. 

“Course it does.” 

“Quite right, too,” he said, a breath escaping him as he pulled her into a hug, ignoring the way his skin protested at the friction. She didn’t seem to care about her wounds either. She hugged him back, right there in the fire, and he chose not to tell her how much the idea of her being something other than what he knew her to be terrified him , even if he had every faith in her. Instead, he did his best to comfort her.

“But I s’pose… The final act of the Time War was life,” he said slowly. “Remember that, yeah? That when you held all that power, Rose, all you managed to achieve was good . And so wonderfully human.”

She pulled away. “What do you mean?”

“Jack.” 

A moment passed. 

Then, Rose seemed to figure it out, and she pushed against him in surprise.  

“ I brought him back? Me?” she asked, dumbfounded. The Doctor nodded, and Rose fluttered her lips, shaking her head in disbelief. “But….oh my god, I’d wondered about that the day I found you! After we calmed down and I realized he was there. ‘Cos it was impossible, wasn’t it? But then he died again and came back… And I dunno. I thought maybe he could always do it and never told us about it. Then I thought it’d be rude to ask ‘im –” 

“Oh, please,” the Doctor groaned, sniffing. “Any excuse he gets to talk about himself…”

This time, Rose laughed harder, and the Doctor rubbed his eye as he smiled, both realizing how much they missed their friends. He’d honestly pay good money to watch Donna face off with Surtur, or Mickey try to handle Gorm. Martha would outsmart them all, probably. 

He was going to make a joke about it, but Rose gasped, and the moment of calm they’d found shattered.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Your head, or –” 

“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just… your hand.”

The Doctor looked down. The shard was spinning like a compass in his palm, and beneath it, his skin was glowing. 

Suddenly, the earth began to tremble beneath them.

“Alright, time to go,” he said, helping Rose stand as he shoved the shard back into his pocket. They tried to run, but the more they moved the hotter their burns began to feel, and after several minutes it became unbearable. Rose screamed in pain as she collapsed. The Doctor felt like own skin was about to peel off the bone. 

The pressure in her head was aching, and when she started to shiver despite the heat, Rose realized she wasn’t just burning from the fire.  

She had a fever. 

And that meant…. 

“Doctor?” she said, looking over at him. He was groaning. “I think I’m healing myself.”

“G-good,” he said through gritted teeth, and she shook her head. 

“Kiss me,” she said. 

“What?”

“You heard me,” she scolded. “Kiss me. You need a doctor.”

Her tongue touched the corner of her lip as she gave him a knowing grin, but he couldn’t move. He just let out a dry huff, his eyes falling shut again as he began to understand his body was going into shock. It was simply too hot, and he was too hurt. More and more burns were appearing by the second. By now, his flesh was probably raw and unmade. 

He was going to regenerate, if he let go on much longer. 

“DOCTOR.”

His eyes snapped open. 

And then her lips were on his, and in a strange twist of fate, something began to shift.

It wasn’t just the kiss.

It was her.

Heat poured from her mouth like a spark to kindling. A surge of impossible power jolted through his melting body. Not the power of regeneration, but something older. Wilder. Something that tasted so purely Rose he moaned and gasped into her mouth, his body arching as if struck by lightning. Visions flared behind his eyes, and for a moment he swore he saw the entirety of galaxies. Whole constellations unfolded in his veins, like time was being rewound, but not by force. 

By choice.

When she pulled back, her hands cradling his face, her cheeks were streaked with tears and soot. Her forehead leaned against his, and he could still feel it, the echo of her inside him , of him inside of her, calming the fire, holding him together.

“You’re not allowed to die,” she whispered, breathless. “Got it?”

He stared at her. His skin still burned, but it no longer screamed. Somehow, the pain had quieted to a dull roar.

The burns on her cheeks were gone. 

“You healed me,” he said softly.

“I told you I’d try, if it came down to it,” she whispered.  Neither said it, but the truth lingered. There were no excuses they could make anymore, or distractions they could hide behind. She may not remember all the details, but he’d finally told her the whole truth, and she knew in her bones that something of the wolf was indeed still inside of her. 

He knew it, too. 

Neither said a word, because instead of fire, they were sitting on stone, surrounded by axes. 

The Doctor jumped up, sonic screwdriver immediately in his hand as he tried to figure out where they were. Rose adjusted her weapons and dress and began to look around, blinking hard against the strange silver glow now emanating from the walls.

“What happened?” she said, her voice echoing too easily in the dark.

He didn't answer right away. His eyes were sweeping the space, scanning the jagged cavern around them. The stone was charcoal-dark but dusted with gleaming metallic hues. Silver, copper, something that looked like liquid gold, but pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. The axes were ancient, wedged into the walls at odd angles, some far too high to have been placed there by a standard ladder. Something hissed in the distance. 

Then came the sounds.

Tick. Tock. Ping. Whirr. Clunk.

Not in any real pattern, more like a thousand machines trying to decide whether to start-up or not. 

The Doctor clicked his jaw. “I think you found a gate.”

“What? When I snogged you?”

He shrugged, his eyes still scanning the room. “I don’t know where we are, Rose.”

“Right, well…” she sighed, taking his hand. “First things first. How do you feel?”

“Better,” he said, voice thick, and he glanced down at the burns on his hand, which already looked weeks old. He could feel the others healing as they spoke, his cells regenerating faster than they should. He shook his head in amazement.  “You shouldn’t have been able to do that.”

“Yeah, well…” she said with a small smile. He pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you,” he said, but suddenly the sounds echoed again, and they both turned as a door opened and two small men came charging in with headlamps and tools. They wore overalls and boots, scolding each other.

““—I told you not to recalibrate the pressure valve without warning the forge sprites first, you soot-brained pickaxe!”

“Oh, like you didn’t overheat the last six chambers! That mess in Tunnel Nine? That’s your doing, not mine!”

They both stopped and stared at the Doctor and Rose. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” the first dwarf asked. The Doctor opened his mouth, but the dwarf continued, not giving him a chance to answer. “This sector’s off-limits unless you’ve got a signed clearance from The Iron, which you clearly do not , seeing as you’ve landed yourself in the Axis Vault during a full-system recalibration!”

Rose blinked. “Axis Vault?”

The second dwarf groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Oh, brilliant. They don’t even know where they are. I told you something was going to go wrong the minute you rerouted the resonance paths, I could just feel it!” He then glanced at the wall, running to one of the stones that was glowing that odd shade of silver. “Oh, look at this… They’ve activated it.”

“Activated what ?” the Doctor asked, voice sharp.

The first dwarf gave a humorless laugh. “Only the dormant door to the Forgotten Foundry! Ancient tech, mind you, that’s buried for a reason ! You must have triggered a ley line spark when you…” His eyes narrowed, glancing between the two of them. “Did you kiss in here?”

“Sort of?” Rose offered.

The dwarves groaned in unison.

The Doctor raised a brow. “A kiss unlocked a door?”

“Not just a kiss,” the second dwarf muttered, pointing at Rose. “She’s carrying an echo of primordial energy. Dårlig ulv- code signature, unless I’m mistaken. And you –” he jabbed a stubby finger toward the Doctor “- are a walking paradox with a chronolocked neural field. Combine that with emotional resonance and a ley line interference, and yes. A kiss will do nicely.”

The first dwarf slapped the second on the back of the head. “ Stop explaining things to the anomalies! ”

“Oi, who’re you calling anomalies? We’re standing right here, ” Rose said dryly.

The Doctor stepped forward, suddenly very serious. “Is it stable?”

The dwarves exchanged a look.

“…Define stable,” the second one said cautiously.

“Is anything about to implode?”

“Well, not immediately.”

“Then we’ve got time,” the Doctor said.

“Time to do what?” Rose asked.

He turned to her, his expression already shifting into that maddening, exhilarating, brilliant grin she knew too well. “Introductions,” he said. “This is Svartalfheim, yes? I’m the Doctor, this is Rose Tyler. We’ve been sent from Asgard.”

The dwarves burst out laughing. “That’s impossible.”

“Aaaaaand yet, here we are,” the Doctor said, crossing his arms and looking around at the axes. “You made all these?”

“ Not us, string bean,” the first dwarf said. “Our ancestors a millennia ago. Now, why are you –”

“They’re beautiful,” the Doctor hummed, interrupting. The dwarves looked at each other, not quite sure what to say. “Sif – you know Sif, yeah? Thor’s widow? She gave us these.”

He pulled his axe from his back and held it out for the dwarves to inspect. He then gave Rose a look, glancing between her and the dwarves. He cleared his throat, silently telling her to play along , and she smiled. 

“Oh yeah! I got one, too,” she said, presenting hers. The dwarves tilted their headlamps at the weapons, examining every rune and etching with reverent scowls. Rose noticed, then, how much their axes looked like the ones in the wall. A fact the Doctor clearly already picked up on, and she smirked at him knowingly as the dwarves began to mutter, transfixed. 

“That’s impossible. These are… old. Very old,” one said. 

“Not only that. They are the kind of weapon we no longer make. Ones enhanced before the gates between realms were sealed…”

“Exactly,” the Doctor said, sliding his ax back in place. “Courtesy of the Queen of Asgard herself, like I said. There’s a reason for our visit, which I’d be happy to share, but first tell me … why, exactly, do you need to recalibrate the Axis Vault?”

“Yeah, and what the hell is an Axis Vault?” Rose asked. 

But the sounds began again. The tick, the tock, the ping, whirr and clunk. Only this time, a bell began to ring through the tunnels outside the door, loud and incessant, like a mythical fire alarm. 

The first dwarf hit the second on the head. The second hit the first on the face. 

“OI!” Rose shouted, snapping her fingers. “I reckon that’s not a good sound now, is it?”

The dwarves froze mid-slap.The second one grunted. 

“No,” he said bitterly. “Here we were, trying to do routine maintenance before grabbing a pint. Things have been a bit dodgy the last couple days but so far it’s nothing we can't handle, and now thanks to your snogging, the vault’s core is destabilizing. We’ve probably got minutes before the whole resonance lattice collapses.”

“How many minutes?” the Doctor asked. The second dwarf stuck a finger in his mouth, held it up, and then began counting off on his knuckles.

“Five. Two minutes before the chronon flux interference destabilizes the resonance lattice, another minute before it tangles with the hyperdimensional ley line harmonics, and then—” he jabbed another finger in the air. “A minute or two before it loops into a feedback cycle of the meta-quantum grid. If we don’t realign the temporal-spatial dampeners and recalibrate the phase-shift conduits within the next two minutes, this entire vault’s going to implode spectacularly.”

The first dwarf hit him again. “What did I say about explaining things ?!”

“What about the Foundry?” the Doctor asked. “How far underground is it if this place caves in?”

“It’ll be lost,” the second dwarf said. “Not that we use it anyway. It’s forgotten, remember? I’m more worried about lives. Not yours, really, but –”

“The Foundry is still important , you imbecile. It’s history!” the other dwarf scolded. The Doctor inhaled slowly.

“History, you say? Well, I’m not one to argue with that. We better act fast.”

“YOU are not acting on anything,” the first dwarf warned, jabbing a dirt-stained finger right into the Doctor’s chest. “ You and your girlfriend destabilized this vault, and I am not letting some string bean with a toothpick make it worse!”

The Doctor blinked. “It’s sonic. And it’s not a toothpick —”

“ NOT ONLY THAT, ” the second dwarf continued, pacing as he held up a tablet that seemed to be getting some sort of reading. “Oh, you’ve really done it, haven’t you? Borf, they also reawakened the prototype conduits we’ve spent centuries trying to keep dormant.” He glared at the Doctor and Rose. “Do you have any idea how many self-aware machines down here hold a grudge against us?”

Rose crossed her arms. “Look, we didn’t mean to, I dunno, kiss anything awake. Honest. We were just trying not to die.”

“Ohhhh sure, and now you’ve given life to about thirty things that will want you dead anyway,” the first dwarf snapped. “Bloody humans…”

The Doctor glanced between them. “You need help.”

“What we need is someone who understands how to recalibrate the axis without turning the entire system into soup! AND WE NEED TO CLOSE THAT BLOODY DOOR!”

“Lucky you,” Rose said, nudging the Doctor’s shoulder. “You’ve got the one person in the Nine Realms who probably does know that sort of thing. Eh, Doctor?”

“I could give it a go.” 

The dwarves looked skeptical. “You are not touching –”

But a voice rang through a com system, loud and panicked. 

“Tunnel 6 has collapsed. I repeat, Tunnel 6 has collapsed! BOG, STATUS UPDATE, NOW!”

The second dwarf (Bog, apparently) groaned, lifting some sort of futuristic walkie-talkie, but all they could hear was static. The room began to shake again, and without another word the dwarves ran down the hall. 

The Doctor and Rose followed.

The tunnels were a maze. Pipes twisted overhead in bundled tangles, hissing with steam and filling their lungs with the scent of exhaust. The deeper they went, the more the air crackled with what sounded like electrical feedback, and Rose noticed some doors were sealed with mechanical locks that clicked nervously as they drew near. Others seemed to shy away from them entirely, panels sealing shut as if the tunnels themselves were aware of their presence.

Who knows, maybe they were. 

Bog and Borf, of course, argued the entire way, voices echoing through the narrow corridors like angry gremlins. The Doctor was like a kid in a mechanical playground, muttering things under his breath like, “ Oh, that’s clever,” or “Oh, very wrong but very clever.” Rose kept pace beside him, watching every valve and blinking light as if expecting the walls to come to life.

Then the tunnel curved sharply, sloping downward, then widened into a spiral staircase built for dwarven legs. They clung to the rail as the air grew hotter and denser, and before long an entire atrium stood before them. 

It was huge. Nothing like the small Nidavellier dwelling they’d found with Sigurd. She had no idea how any of it worked, but even Rose could tell the technology that surrounded them was advanced, even if it was all a bit… steampunk. Smoke hissed from copper-lined pipes. Cogs the size of cars turned above her. Pulleys shifted gears, and metal arms moved with eerie precision across a series of glowing platforms, humming with power. The walls themselves were alive, etched with runes and light. And lastly, because of course they were, axes were everywhere, hung with reverence and embedded into forges. Some were even suspended over workstations. Rose slowed, turning in awe as they entered the space, eyes wide.

 “This is incredible,” she whispered. “Where are we?”

 “This is the Axis Vault , how many times do we have to say it?” Borf grunted. “Also, why are you still here?! YOU are going to make this worse!”

“No, we won’t. I won’t even touch him, see? The kiss was medical –” Rose started to say, and the Doctor laughed when Borf shot her a glare that reminded him a little of Jackie. 

“Was it now? Felt pretty recreational from where I was standing!””

“Borf!” Bog snapped. “Less commentary, more containment !”

Bog sprinted to a console of glowing stones and levers and immediately began inputting commands, his fingers a blur. Sparks flew from one of the central conduits. The entire atrium gave a shudder, and Rose leaned closer to the Doctor, whispering in his ear. 

“You’ve got to help them.”

“I am helping,” the Doctor murmured. “I’m watching the pattern. This whole place is built on timed resonance. The ley line frequencies harmonize with something. Something that’s off-beat, and if I can find it…”

“Okay, what does ‘ley line’ mean? You all keep saying it.”

“It’s a phenomenon. An ancient one. Basically, magnetic threads run through the universe. Tension. Memory, and Power. When they overlap, ley lines are formed, thrumming with energy. This realm seems to be sitting on top of one. And because of that, these dwarves have technology similar to the TARDIS…”

Rose stared at him. “Seriously?”

“ Almost,” he added with a wink. “Ohhhh, I just want to press all the buttons…”

He ran before she could tell him not to, jumping over some grating and catching up with Bog, who was still frantically trying to stop the vault from imploding. Several other dwarves had joined him, all arguing over one another, and the Doctor watched for a moment until the screens went dark. 

“BLOODY HELL! Bog, the resonance lattice just destabilized, what do we do?!” one of the dwarves demanded. 

“I see it,” Bog snapped, not looking up. He was already punching commands into the console, adjusting inputs, rerouting power. “ I need to restagger the pulse intervals. Don't touch anything!"

The Doctor had scanned the panels with a flick of his sonic screwdriver. “Ooh, so close,” he said, and then immediately dropped to his knees and popped open a floor hatch.

“What are you doing?!” Borf bellowed as the Doctor slipped inside the console. 

“Helping,” came the muffled reply, his voice bouncing within the metal frame. “Your harmonic buffer’s about four nanocycles out of phase, and the backup resonator’s vibrating like it’s had one too many coffees. One sec!”

“You’ll rupture the matrix,” Borf growled.

“No, he won’t,” Bog said, eyes glued to his screen as it began to turn itself back on, numbers running like credits in a film. He blinked. “He’s stabilizing the energy swell."

“The swell he CAUSED!” Borf protested, but the Doctor’s head emerged briefly from a hatch in the side. 

“Yes, and we are sorry about that. But trust me, a kiss from Rose Tyler is worth every bit of chaos,” he said. Rose, still above the grating, blushed. “But I have to ask, have you lot never heard of a failsafe ?”

“WE ARE THE FAILSAFE,” Borf shouted back.

“Oh. Well. No wonder everything’s broken!”

He popped his head back inside the console.

Rose leaned on the railing, watching nervously as one of the massive cogwheels above them gave off a loud cracking sound. “Doctor?! I think something just—”

“Yep! I think that’s a temporal pressure valve. No big deal. Weeeeell, slightly big deal.”

“He’s not one of us,” one of the dwarves said to Bog, who sighed. “Who the hell is that? How did he get here? The gates are sealed!”

“Ask his girlfriend,” Bog muttered, glancing up at Rose, who waved. The other dwarf crossed his arms in confusion, when suddenly the entire room shook and knocked everyone on their backs. 

“Sorry!” the Doctor called. “I just need one more –”

But Borf had grabbed the Doctor’s ankles and was trying to pull him out of the console, grunting and groaning.

“For a string bean, you’re heavy –”

“I’m nearly finished!” the Doctor protested, kicking his legs. “Do you want the Foundry to be lost? Do you want this entire vault to collapse? Give me thirty seconds!”

“But we –”

THIRTY SECONDS.”

“Let him go, Borf,” Bog said, and Borf’s beard practically stood on its ends as he glared at all the other dwarves, who nodded alongside Bog. But the Doctor managed to kick his way out of his grasp anyway and crawled back inside the console, zipping and zapping. 

For several seconds, no one breathed. 

And then, all the rumbling stopped, and everything on the verge of breaking simply…. froze. 

“Right, then,” the Doctor said, wiping his hands on Borf’s overalls as he re-emerged. “How’s that?”

“What did you do?” Bog asked with awe, rather than scorn. “Once the lattice destabilizes… You shouldn’t have been able to fix this. This is ancient technology! We’re still learning about it ourselves!”

“I didn’t fix it,” the Doctor said, sniffing. “I paused the collapse. Everything is built on timed resonance.”

“Well, yes –”

“Right. So, I just made the system think time wasn’t moving. I reckon that bought us all a few hours to figure out a proper fix. Which is all we need, really.” He looked around at the other dwarves. “Anyway! I’m the Doctor. That clever woman up there is Rose Tyler, and we need the piece of Thor’s hammer Sif left in this realm to stop Loki from pulling himself out of the Void and wreaking havoc on all nine realms.” 

Everyone stared at him. 

“Oh, you’re trouble, aren’t you?” Bog asked, but the Doctor noticed a smile curling at the corner of his lips. 

“It tends to find us, yeah,” Rose said, running down a ramp to join the Doctor. “Also, what is an Axis Vault?”

Bog looked around, running his hand through his beard. “It’s the matrix on which all of Svartalfheim is built. Every Nidavellir in the realm is connected to it.” 

“Like a power grid?” Rose asked. Bog looked offended. . 

“It’s far more complicated than that, but… I suppose,” he said. “Where are you from?”

“Midgard,” Rose said. “But Sif sent us. From Asgard. Like we said before. I can open the gates. Long story.” 

Bog narrowed his eyes. “And… she did this because of Loki?” 

“Yes,” the Doctor said. 

Suddenly, as if the information finally clicked, the dwarves began directing their anger toward the Doctor and Rose, but ultimately fought with each other. Bog waited until everyone was slapping someone else before he grabbed the Doctor’s arm. 

“Come with me,” he said. 

They managed to escape while the dwarves were still arguing, climbing up a set of narrow stairs back into tunnels. But instead of going back the way they came, Bog led them toward a lift, cranking a mechanism on the ground to call it up. 

“Name’s Bog, by the way,” he said, tilting his headlamp. “I’m the Chief Systems Keeper. I maintain structural conduits and ley line channels. I keep everything steady. That sort of thing.”

“Where are we going?” Rose asked. 

“Down,” he said, letting them step onto the lift first. The Doctor held Rose’s hand, squeezing it as a series of gears began to shift and click, lowering them into the belly of the vault. It was a slow journey, and the Doctor watched Bog for a moment as he grumbled and adjusted his tool belt. 

“So,” he said. “We earned our keep?”

“You have me intrigued,” Bog admitted. “And you've perhaps given me a clue. So first, tell me what Sif knows about Loki. And how you got here.”

They started (mostly) at the beginning, telling Bog about Sigurd and the cave that housed a dwarven Nidavellir in Midgard. They told him about the first shard of the hammer they’d found there. They told him about Asgard and their current task, about the other realms they’d visited, and all the while Bog listened, his face entirely unreadable. 

They never mentioned Bad Wolf. 

The dwarf sighed as the lift came to a stop. “That’s quite the tale. The stuff of legend, one might say.” 

The Doctor and Rose shared a glance. Bog began to walk, not bothering to look back at them. 

“It could be considered blasphemy against the Esir. But, seeing as you somehow awoke the Forgotten Foundry,”  he paused, glancing back at Rose. “And considering she carries an echo of primordial energy and that you are a walking paradox with a chronolocked neural field… I suppose it's possible.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment?” Rose said. Bog chuckled humorlessly. 

“You shouldn’t.”

The Doctor stepped into the new tunnel they found themselves in. “So will you help us?”

“No one knows where the shard in this realm is kept,” Bog said. “No one has ever searched. In honor of the Esir.”

“Right,” the Doctor grumbled. “Then where are we going? Because Rose and I can’t waste any more time -" 

“I want your opinion on something,” Bog said, guiding them through another stone tunnel that felt fantastical and mechanical all at once, until they approached a locked door. Bog placed his eye on a retina scanner, and they all stood back as it opened, revealing a control room that looked like something out of the Matrix. 

“This is where we monitor the ley lines,” he said. “It’s the heart of the Axis Vault. What you fixed up there is the main mechanism, but this is what would have ultimately been destroyed. If that happens, then the realm would be plunged into darkness.”

“And what are we looking for?” the Doctor asked, slipping his glasses onto his nose. Rose smirked, because she didn’t even realize he’d brought them. Bog sighed. 

“Two days ago, there was a shift in one of the largest ley lines,” he said. “Here.”

He typed something into the system, pulling up a chart of various graphs and numbers that made absolutely no sense to Rose. The Doctor, however, studied it closely. 

“Any idea what caused it?”

“None,” Bog admitted. “Borf and I have been doing maintenance on every part of the vault since, trying to figure it out. We decided to do an entire system recalibration, which is when we found you two.” 

“And you think it’s all connected, somehow?”

“I want to know what you think,” Bog said. “You clearly understand more than you should, and unlike me, you’ve been on the outside. Loki is a trickster. He’s notorious for it. If he’s trying to come back, then I wonder…”

“You wonder if it’s him,” Rose finished. Bog stayed silent. 

The Doctor took a seat, running his fingers along the interface as the graphs pulsed and flickered. “A shift like that in a ley line this stable should be impossible. Unless something’s broken the anchor points . ”

He tapped the screen and rotated one of the energy maps with a flick of his fingers, revealing  tangled lines of light, some coiled like serpents, others stretched taut across fissures in the stone. Rose peered over his shoulder, trying to make sense of it.

She gave up after two seconds. 

Bog crossed his arms. “So you agree, then. You’re saying the lattice is unraveling?”

“I’m saying it’s screaming,” the Doctor muttered, his brow furrowing. Rose gasped. 

“Doctor –” 

But he was already standing, thinking the exact same thing she was, taking the Alenrûn out of his pocket and holding the cracks up against the flickering projection.

Rose’s breath caught.

“It’s identical,” she whispered. “The cracks and the grid.”

“More specifically, the cracks and the spike in the grid,” the Doctor muttered.

“What is that?” Bog asked, trying to touch the Alenrûn, but the Doctor was starting to pace, ruffling his hair with manic energy as he began to talk directly to Rose. 

“Do you sense anything?”

“What?” she asked. “No, why would I?”

But he just stared at her, and they both knew what he was asking. What he was admitting. It was as clear as it was before, as clear as it had been this entire adventure, she supposed. Something of the wolf lived inside of her, and for once, he wanted her to trust it. 

Slowly, she inhaled, taking the Alenrûn into her own hands and closing her eyes, but there was no howling in her mind or singing in her ears. For right now, at least, it was just a broken box. 

“Nothing,” she whispered. “I don’t think whatever is going on is meant for me.”

“Which means it's meant for me,” the Doctor said, understanding washing through him. “He’s messing with the ley line frequencies to get me to talk to him. Clever.”

He stared at the graph on the screen like it had personally insulted him.

"Very clever,” he muttered again, lower this time. “Of course he wouldn’t call out directly. He can’t. So he piggybacked on an energy stream, disguised himself as a resonance spike, and waited for me to come looking… All from the other side of the Void. Oooooh, that’s…. Well, that’s not good, is it? That means he’s getting stronger.”

Bog looked between them, baffled. “Are you talking about Loki??”

“Oh, yes,” the Doctor said slowly. “He knows who we are, Rose. What we’re doing. I bet if I were to trace the origin of this spike, it would be covered in Void Stuff… And it’s leaking . That’s why the box cracked twice.”

Rose took a step back. “You mean Loki is what ? Inside the graph?”

The Doctor didn’t answer immediately. He was watching the projection, rotating it again. 

“No,” he finally said. “But a sliver of consciousness, perhaps. I think he’s waiting .”

Rose peered over the Doctor’s shoulder. “Waiting for what?”

“For me to plug him into the ley line and send him a surge of power strong enough to help break through the Void.” 

There was a long silence. Then the Doctor blinked, and very, very slowly turned toward the console.

“…Oh.”

Bog stepped in front of him. “ Oh?! What does ‘oh’ mean?!”

The Doctor yanked the box from Rose’s hand and scanned it with the sonic, muttering numbers.

“The song. The bloody song! OF COURSE! The scream isn’t a scream, it’s the Alenrûn’s harmonic frequency syncing with the Vault’s! He's been using the ley line like an antenna and broadcasting a tether into the Void!”

Rose’s eyes widened. “That’s what Vaena meant about something new sending the world into ruin, yeah? What does that mean? He wanted us to come here?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said, his face pale. “But its more than that, he wanted me to fix it. It’s all a trick. He couldn’t reach the ley lines until someone rebalanced the lattice.” 

He ran so fast, the gust of wind he left behind blew Rose’s hair off her shoulder. 

“DOCTOR!!” she screamed, following him with Bog close behind. 

“I paused it!” the Doctor said. “The rebalance, I made it stop, but it’s not complete!! But if it gets fixed , then we just built Loki a bloody doorway back to the Nine Realms!”

He was spinning the mechanism to recall the lift so fast the metal groaned. Bog was staring at the Doctor like he was mad. 

“But if it’s paused, don’t we have time to figure all that out?”

“Not if Loki is waiting by the door, he’ll trick his way in,” the Doctor said, throwing the lift open. “Speaking of doors, what is the Forgotten Foundry?” 

Bog followed him onto the lift, staring at him as they began to rise. “You don’t know?”

“I thought all of this was a myth until a week ago,” the Doctor admitted. “I have theories, but we don’t really have time for that now, do we?”

“It’s where Esir weapons were once forged, but the key was lost.”

Rose’s heart thudded. “Esir weapons such as the hammer?”

“Technically it’s called Mjolnir,” Bog said. “And yes. Several others were made there, too, long ago. It’s a well of infinite power that dates back farther than the universe itself. It’s connected to Yggdrasil, or, it was once. After Ragnarok, our ancestors felt it was best to lock it up and throw away the key.” 

Rose swallowed. “And we opened it?”

“You activated it,” Bog said. “Which is far worse, given the circumstances.” 

Rose shut her eyes, cursing under her breath.

The Doctor stared up as the lift rattled, slowly moving higher and higher. “We need to see it.” 

“No,” Bog said. “It’s too dangerous for anyone to –”

“If Loki’s tether to this realm reached that deep, then he could use the Foundry itself to override the lattice and come back with or without our help. That’s correct, yes?”

Bog looked sick. “Oh, Gods…”

“That’s what I thought,” the Doctor said as the lift clanged into place. They rushed back into the upper tunnels, but warning lights were now flashing, the pulsing glow of the console throbbing with a strange, rhythmic beat. The Doctor threw the door open, running back to where Borf and the other dwarves were still arguing.

“EVERYONE, STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” he shouted. Borf glanced up, his face redder than it had been before. 

“Oh, look, he returns,” he spat. The Doctor looked at Bog, uninterested in what Borf had to say. 

“Deal with this? Don’t let them start it up!”

He then grabbed Rose’s hand, ignoring Borf entirely as they ran back through the tunnels, looking for the room they’d first appeared in. They got lost a few times, but once they found it the Doctor ran to the rocks with the silver glow the dwarves had first noticed, scanning them with his screwdriver. 

“Doctor,” Rose said. 

He scanned. 

“Doctor.” 

“What?”

“We need to think this through,” she said. “If we go in there –”

“ You’re not going in there,” he said. “Bad Wolf could react to a power source of that magnitude. We can’t risk that.”

“Or maybe that’s the reason I should go and you should stay here. If Loki wants to talk to you –” 

He clenched his jaw, moving to another part of the rock. 

She grabbed the screwdriver. 

“Stop trying to resonate stone,” she said. He sighed. “Help me think.”

“There’s nothing to think about,” he whispered. “We have to stop him.”

“Then we go together,” she said. “And I don’t think the sonic is gonna do much. I think we need a key.”

“Rose –”

But she touched the stone, and the sensation of time coiling around her like it did with the dimension cannon rattled her bones. 

When they landed, Jotnar were waiting.

Chapter Text

“This is a waste of time,” one of the Jotnar grumbled. They were huddled in a corner, rifling through a cardboard box. Cables dangled across the ceiling. The lights were dim and flickering. The sound of water dripped in the distance, and the floor was littered with shattered glass from windows or doors.

For a well of infinite power, the Forgotten Foundry felt an awful lot like an abandoned office, and Rose couldn’t help but feel an eerie sort of nostalgia within its walls. 

“Doctor–”

He covered her mouth with his hand. 

Thankfully, the Jotnar didn’t seem to hear her. They kept muttering under their breath and tossed the box to the side, then stomped over to the other side of the room. The Doctor waited for one more moment before he pressed a finger to his lips, guiding Rose to a hiding spot behind a broken machine of some kind.

He hadn’t gotten a good look at the Jotnar before, but he observed them carefully now. They were tall and muscular, with skin as blue as frost. Runes, he now noticed, were branded across their arms like a tattoo. Swirls of white scars wrapped around their biceps and up their necks, and he frowned when he saw the size of the weapons they carried – because apparently, shape-shifting and trickery wasn’t enough. 

“There is nothing here,” one of them said, their voice thick with an accent the Doctor didn’t recognize. 

“Well, he wouldn’t send us here for nothing,” another muttered.  

The Doctor and Rose shared a glance as more cardboard boxes were thrown across the room, and whatever was inside clattered to the floor. Rose tilted her head when blue dust began to trail behind them; the same kind they’d seen on the beach, and it was then she remembered the scroll that was somewhere in the Doctor’s pockets. 

“Stay here,” he whispered in her ear, but before she could say a word he was lying on his stomach, army crawling toward the collection of discarded items the Jotnar had left behind. He managed to grab onto one with a huff before he scurried back to their hiding spot.

He scanned it, muffling the sound with his jacket. 

“That’s…impossible,” he said to himself, holding up a small, half-melted metal ring with etched grooves. “These were outlawed during the signing of the Shadow Proclamation.”

Rose didn’t waste time asking him what it was. Instead, she looked around the room, her eyes locking on familiar doorways and signs, her skin crawling in discomfort.

No. 

No. No. No No. 

“Bog said this was where Esir weapons were crafted, yeah?” she murmured softly. “And yet it looks like –”

“Torchwood Tower, Canary Wharf, London, circa 2006?” he grumbled. “Yeah. I noticed.” 

The Jotnar let out a growl of frustration as they threw yet another box across the room.

“We’ve not found a single one!” one said. “The Time Lord has four! We’ve only been able to cross into three of the realms! Three! Loki is waiting! If we don’t bring him another piece soon –”

“He has our realm’s piece,” another Jotnar spat. “And he will deal with the Time Lord when he is ready. Relax, brother.” 

The Doctor shut his eyes, dread coiling in his stomach. Of course. They were looking for the piece of the hammer, and of course they would have already given up Jotunheim’s piece willingly. He was honestly annoyed he’d never considered that as a possibility before, and his entire body tensed at the idea that he’d have to fight to get it back. But before he could truly dwell on it, the Jotnar closest to them sniffed the air and turned around.

Rose gasped when it’s red eyes locked with hers. 

 “Or perhaps… we will deal with him. And the wolf.”

“What do you mean?” another Jotnar asked. The one staring at Rose grinned. 

“We’re not alone, brothers.”

Rose barely had time to blink before the Jotnar was charging across the room. The Doctor yanked her into a run, ducking low and weaving between fallen beams and broken machinery. Sparks flew as the Jotnar’s axe cleaved through the console they’d just been crouched behind.

“Brilliant hiding spot, ten out of ten!” Rose gasped. 

“I thought they were farsighted,” he said, turning down a corridor and running. “Run!” 

They both glanced over their shoulder at the Jotnar, who were faster than either gave them credit for. Their roars reverberated through the hallway, and Rose couldn’t help but scream when another ax flew in their direction, landing just a few feet from their heads. 

The blade pierced the wall, splitting the words Torchwood Institute in half. 

Both she and the Doctor skidded to a halt.

“What is happening?” Rose whispered in horror, but the Doctor swallowed and turned toward the Jotnar, who were stalking toward them in anger. Before he could say a word, the Jotnar began to use their magic to somehow bind Rose against the wall next to the ax. The Doctor reached for her, only to be thrown so hard against the opposite wall it cracked.

He groaned as he sank to his knees. 

“DOCTOR!!” Rose shouted, but the Jotnar were snarling, and she had no choice but to stop and stare at them. 

“The Wolf. At last, we meet.” 

“DOCTOR!” she screamed again. 

Slap. 

Something struck her across the face. Debris of some kind, something the Jotnar were manipulating with their powers, and she could feel the blood start to drip from her lip as she turned toward them with a glare. 

The Jotnar began to laugh. 

“Our master has been waiting for you to arrive,” he said calmly, swiping her lip with his finger and marveling at the blood that pooled on his skin. “The moment you found this realm, this Foundry activated, just as he suspected it would. We know it’s here, somewhere. The piece of Mjolnir. He can feel it.”

Rose tried to reach for her weapons, but the invisible force the Jotnar were holding her with was too strong. She glanced over at the wall. 

“He’s still sending you to do his bidding, then?” she spat. The Jotnar grinned. 

“No, Wolf,” he said. “He’s sending you.”

The room began to shake, and the Doctor shouted as a piece of the ceiling came crashing down inches from Rose, revealing a dark abyss of nothingness where the sky should be. The Jotnar caught it with their magic and threw it in the other direction as the Doctor forced himself to stand, clutching his bruising ribs. 

“Let her go.”

The room shook again. 

“The realm above us is still destabilizing," the Jotnar said thoughtfully. “Svartalflheim. Their destruction will continue unless you do something, Time Lord.” 

“Unless we open the door for Loki to return, you mean,” the Doctor said. “That’s not going to happen.”

“So you’d rather doom this realm to extinction?” the Jotnar asked. “Interesting. That’s not what he thought you’d say.”

“Let her go,” the Doctor repeated. “This is your last warning.” 

The Jotnar chuckled, ignoring his threat. “Do you even know where you are, Time Lord? Why this place feels so… familiar to you?”

The Doctor clenched his jaw, only to be yanked forward as the Jotnar used their magic to split the wall Rose was pressed against in half and trap the Doctor on the other side. With a force that went against the laws of physics, they pushed them toward one another until their faces and hands pressed against the wall like they once had before, so very long ago, when universes kept them apart. 

Rose writhed against her invisible restraints, but the Doctor stayed very still, looking at the room carefully. 

Torchwood, yes. It was an exact replica of Torchwood. 

He spotted two magna clamps at the end of a corridor, alone and waiting. A lever toggled between the on and off switch. The wall seemed to ripple. 

Realization washed through him, followed by anger. 

“Oh, that’s clever. Very clever. It might have even worked, once,” he spat at the Jotnar, the Oncoming Storm starting to coil inside of him. His hand began to ache, and he glanced down, staring in shock when the skin started to glow. 

He didn’t think. He simply reacted. 

A pulse of light broke through his fingers, ripping him free of the invisible barrier that held him in place. He fell to his knees, then ran toward Rose. The sight of her screaming shattered something inside of him, and before he understood what he was doing, a new burst of light, or energy, or something poured from his palm and shot toward the Jotnar, piercing their skin. 

They collapsed as Rose whipped her head around to face him, and he caught her in his arms as her restraints broke. 

“Hello,” he said, smiling. 

“H-hello.”

“It’s psychic manipulation,” he said. “We were the ones who activated the Foundry, so it must have scanned our memories, searching for something with an emotional resonance strong enough to power it up. It’s not real, Rose. None of this is real. They want us unsettled so they can manipulate us.”

She opened her mouth, but the Jotnar were groaning, and he shook his head. 

“We’ve got to go. We’ve got to find the shard before they wake up. Come on.”

They rushed down the hall, the Doctor talking so fast Rose couldn’t even try to keep up as computers and wires fell to the floor in another quake. It was stronger than the last one, and he pushed her against a door, shielding her body with his as the ceiling came crashing down again, landing just a few feet away from them. 

That same dark abyss swirled above their heads, and dread settled in their chests. 

And suddenly, they both understood. 

“Is that..?” Rose began, her voice trembling. The Doctor nodded. 

“That’s the Void.”

“Why aren’t we being sucked in?” Rose demanded, panic lined in every word. “Void Stuff is basically in our DNA by now, isn’t it? We’ve got to hold onto something and –”

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice low. “And right now I don’t care. Just stay close to me.”

Slowly, carefully, they each took a step. Not a single atom in their body seemed pulled toward the looming pool of nothingness that now danced in fragments above their heads, but they were running out of time. The Doctor began scanning the air and walls with his sonic screwdriver, his brain was working faster than it ever had before, trying to understand what the hell was going on. 

The room shook again. 

And suddenly, it all made sense. 

“Oh, idiots,” he groaned. “Absolute morons, I mean, honestly –” 

“What?” Rose asked, but he was spinning in a circle, holding the sonic directly above his head, squinting and deducting. 

“It’s Borf. He’s still trying to stabilize the lattice. That’s why the ceiling keeps falling, which is exactly what Loki wants. They’re bridging the gap between the Void…”

“Then we need to look faster,” she said. “The shard could be anywhere, right? We don’t –”

He kissed her, swallowing her next words. 

She pulled away after a moment, pushing him away gently. “Not that I’m complaining, but we don’t have time for –”

“No, no no, listen! Our kiss activated all of this,” he said seriously. “Let’s see what else we can do.”

Rose blinked at him. “You want to… snog our way to victory?”

“Worked once, didn’t it?” 

He gave her a pointed look, and before she could argue, he leaned in again, cupping her cheeks with tender care as his hips pressed against hers. Instinct brought Rose’s hands between his hearts, and this time, as their lips met again, the air seemed to shift. The hum of machinery around them deepened to low thrumming, and the cracked concrete beneath their feet pulsed with faint light. 

Their hands began to glow gold, and somewhere in the distance, the sound of metal grinding on metal echoed like the turning of an ancient lock, almost as if a door opened. 

Rose smirked against his mouth.

“Is this actually working?” she mumbled.  

“Of course it is,” the Doctor said, brushing his tongue over her bottom lip before he turned her around and pressed her against the wall. She gasped. “I figured it out. The Foundry is built on emotional resonance. First it latched onto our fear, now it’s trying… well… something else on for size.”

The unspoken words lingered in the air, swallowed by his groan as she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“Quite right, too.” 

He blinked. “Rose…”

“Kiss me again,” she instructed, and for a moment he thought he might combust. His hearts ached, his desire ached, his chest ached. The urge to tell her was so strong it was almost debilitating, but the room began to shake once more, and they both had no choice but to break apart and run in the direction of the scraping metal as a new piece of the ceiling crashed to the ground. 

“ROSE!!!”

“DOCTOR, RUN!” 

They tumbled into a new room, dust and debris flying in the air behind them as they fell to their knees. Rose coughed and brushed off her hands, but the Doctor was instantly on his feet, looking around with wide eyes. 

“This is…” 

To his amazement, they were no longer in Torchwood, but on the TARDIS. The coral pulsed before them. One of Rose’s old shirts rested on the jumpseat, though she knew she hadn’t left there. It smelled exactly as it should – like time and coffee and a bit of the Doctor’s cologne. 

“How is this possible?” Rose asked. 

“We changed the emotional resonance,” the Doctor explained. “The Foundry is no longer channeling a place we fear, but a place we…welll…”

“Home,” Rose whispered. He sighed. 

“A safe place, yes,” he said. “A place we both love.”

Despite everything, it was the closest he’d come to admitting it, and she couldn’t help but smile. 

He smiled a little too, then shook his head as if unable to believe this might be how it all unfolds before he began to look around. “None of it is real, of course. This is just a memory of the TARDIS pulled from our minds.” 

“I haven’t seen that shirt in years,” Rose said, picking it up. “I thought I threw it out after New Earth.”

The Doctor turned around, his brow furrowed, then froze when he saw what she was holding. 

That’s my friend’s, he’d told Donna once. I lost her. 

He inhaled deeply. 

“Like I said,” he muttered. “Emotional resonance. The shard must be here somewhere, siphoning off the energy. Look around for anything that feels out of place.”

“Like this shirt?”

“No,” he admitted, taking it from her and frowning. “Not like the shirt. Like something we’ve never seen before.”

Rose nodded, fluttering her lips. “That’s hard to say, really. I’ve only been back a few months.”

What do you mean lost? 

He almost, almost, allowed himself to get caught up in it all again. 

But then he remembered she was there. Breathing in his air. 

Why don’t you ask her yourself?

“Maybe so,” he sighed. “But I reckon you’d know the TARDIS anywhere. And besides, this is a memory of the day we said goodbye. Which means it’s the TARDIS exactly as it was, which means you can help me look.”

Rose turned to stare at him. 

“What?”

He swallowed. “Just help me look.”

She watched him toss the shirt on the chair once more, heart clanging against her ribs. “You had that with you? When I was on the beach?”

His hands stilled on a knob. “After. It doesn’t matter. Just look.” 

But she didn’t move an inch. She just watched him as he began to twist gears and lift up flaps of metal. When he walked to the other side of the control panel she followed, then grabbed his hand. 

“You don’t ever have to say it,” she whispered. “But know that I do, too.”

His jaw clenched as he released the piece of machinery he was holding, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was their heartbeats. 

Then he had her in his arms, lifting her into the controls as he snogged her so fiercely, she felt dizzy. She moaned a little as he ran his hands along her waist, then up her breasts, then across her hips, clutching as their kiss deepened and her legs wrapped around the backs of his thighs. 

“When I say it,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “It will be in the way you deserve to hear me say it.” 

“Doctor…” 

“It means too much,” he growled, kissing her neck. “You mean too much. And now is not the time.” 

She smiled a little, teasing. “And what do you know about time?”

“I don’t know much of anything anymore,” he said, pulling away and cupping her cheek. “Except that you make me better.”

Her heart stopped. 

For a breath, it was just them. Just two people bound together by an eternity of impossibility, dancing on the precipice of love. 

Because good god, did she love him. 

She let out a long breath, sliding her hand into his and looking around the room, tracing every orb and light carefully. Every fiber of her being wanted to continue the conversation, but he was right. 

They had no time. 

So she pointed at the orbs, her tongue pressed to her cheek. 

“Those look the same.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“All of this does,” she said, releasing her grasp on him and shimmying down off of the controls. He watched her, crossing his arms as she began to be Rose bloody Tyler. 

“So the thing is… This place in this memory may not have changed, but I have,” she said, crouching down under the control panel. “And you have. So we need to look at it with a new perspective to see what might be different. Does that make sense?”

He nodded slowly. “What are you thinking?”

“I think it needs a makeover,” she said. “I think we need to redecorate. And whatever doesn’t change, that’s where the shard is.” 

He was still for a moment, but then his face broke out in a wild grin, and Rose let out a soft oomph as he rushed past her and leapt toward the opposite side of the panel yet again. 

“Oh, Rose Tyler,” he said, his voice warm and chipper as his grin spread wider across his face. “Defender of the Universe."

“Will it work?” she asked. He shrugged, running to the controls and punching in a series of codes. 

“There’s only one way to find out,” he said. “It’s a good idea, brilliant. And blimey I haven’t done this in ages! The first time I did it was by accident, then I wound up stuck with a snake for a doorknob for the better half a week. ”

“How does it work?” Rose asked, peering over his shoulder.  

“Pull the lever and see,” the Doctor hummed. Rose, grinning, did exactly as he said, and suddenly the room began to spin. 

Instantly, the Doctor realized it was a mistake. 

Nothing felt like it should. Time wasn’t reacting properly. Which, of course it wasn’t. It wasn’t real  here. This was all a projection. The TARDIS wouldn’t be able to change into something new, it would have to be something old. So he stood there as his memories unraveled the space around them, as the room they stood in transitioned from the TARDIS they knew and loved to one that was locked away in his mind, one the Foundry was now clinging to for stability. One he hadn’t thought about in so long, it physically hurt to see it again. 

The TARDIS, as it was when he first stole it. 

Stark like a hospital. As “homey” as Gallifrey was. Gold. Cold. Regal and proper, without a hint of punk rockability. 

Without a hint of Rose. 

Except the shirt. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said to himself, trembling in disbelief as he picked it up again, only this time, something called to him. Something that felt like every other piece of Mjolnir had.

And when he reached into the pocket, there it was. 

A piece of Thor’s hammer, bright and shiny and glowing. 

He sighed, fighting a lump in his throat. 

“Well done, Rose Tyler,” he said, holding it up for her to see. “That’s five down. Now let’s figure out how the hell we get out of here –” 

The room began to tremble violently.

The illusion fell away instantly, and they were back on the TARDIS as it currently was, though even that image began to flicker in and out of existence. Rose grabbed the Doctor’s arm as the coral began to shine, the glow around them turning from gold to blue, then to a color that shouldn’t exist at all, something that made her vision blur and her breath come short.

“What’s going on?!” she cried, but he didn’t answer. 

He was staring down at the shard in horror, because this time, the metal wasn’t just glowing, it was pulsing.

Once.

Twice.

Three times. 

Then it began to breathe.

The Doctor dropped it instantly.

 “No,” he said, voice low. “No, no, no, no, no—”

A laugh echoed through the room, so soft it almost could’ve been mistaken for static.

“Oh, come now, Doctor. I thought you were clever.”

The voice came from everywhere. From the coral, from the walls, from inside their heads. It slithered like a snake, it stung like venom. The conjuring of the TARDIS flickered again until it was gone entirely, and they found themselves in the Foundry at its purest form. Or, at least that’s what the Doctor assumed it must be. It was an abyss of nothingness, not quite as empty as the Void but no more than a space with no end, as if darkness and time itself were merging together into some kind of in between, when a figure began to take shape before them. 

 The silhouette of a man with a helmet on its head, his body flickering in golden light. 

“Are those…horns?” Rose gasped, and the Doctor pulled her behind him, protecting her with his body as he glared at the figure with the fury of his entire storm. 

 “How easy you’ve made this,” the voice echoed. “And to think, all you had to do was pay attention and not touch.”

A hand formed in the darkness, and the Doctor tried to run. But he had no idea where he was going, and when he tried to turn around the hand simply followed, as if they were ants in a box and someone was playing with them. 

“I’ll take that,” the voice said, and before the Doctor could stop it, it plucked the shard of the hammer from his palm. “And these.”

The hand reached into his suit jacket and pulled out the box Sif had given them. The one that held all the other pieces. 

“NO!!!” the Doctor screamed, but the voice merely laughed. 

“I’ll see you soon, Time Lord. You too, my big Bad Wolf.”

“DOCTOR!!!!” Rose's voice shrieked, but it was too late. Svartalfheim above them began to crack. Whatever was left of the ceiling must have fallen in its entirety, for the darkness that surrounded them began to shine with a strange light as the figure began to take a more physical shape. 

They could hear screaming in the distance. Dwarves, the Doctor realized in horror, probably running for their lives as their realm caved in on itself. Rose screamed for them, begged it to stop. She tried to break away. She tried to help. 

And the Doctor locked eyes with Loki for a fraction of a second before he, too, plunged into darkness.