Chapter Text
Eidolon wasn't its first name.
There's a tradition in Time Lord circles to eschew your name after your first regeneration, replacing it with a new moniker. Romana, the Rani, the Corsair, the Doctor, the Master. Some don't care about whatever name they had before; some keep their old name a closely-guarded secret; some forget that they even had any other name. Whichever attitude any individual Time Lord takes towards their names, the act of choosing your forever-name after your first regeneration – this huge change, one that frappés your entire sense of self and leaves you unrecognisable to the soul trapped in your body for some time – is considered sacred, and rarely tampered with.
When Kleos first regenerated, it was barely ready for the world. It was young and careless, frolicking around its home world with no regard for its short first life. Thus, it was forcibly given its name by the leaders of its particular sect, as a harsh punishment for its recklessness: Eidolon, meaning a spirit-image or phantom lookalike of a humanoid form.
In the grand scheme of things, it could've been worse.
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If you believe in onomancy – the practice of divination using names – these names may seem significant. Kleos, after all, is a Greek word just like eidolon, with kleos meaning "glory", or sometimes "what others hear about you". Therefore, an onomancer may interpret this as Eidolon starting out as hot shit, but becoming a shell of its former self. It probably wouldn't argue, although some of its iterations would most likely claim that it's still hot shit, no matter how many times it fails.
Onomancy isn't real, of course. Time Lord society's high-born chose Eidolon's name out of spite for their perceived failure of a citizen.
But wouldn't it be poetic if it was real?
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Eidolon remembered its name throughout its entire life.
Twelve regenerations, twelve Eidolons, each a spirit-image of the last. Through its entire existence, it thought about that original name, that innocent person who had never changed – Kleos. Glory. It often wondered if it would ever live up to that name, the broken promise of making something of its life, before it was replaced with a phantom by those around it. Eidolon often felt as if it was fated to be like this, this careless person throwing away the ghost of its lives while chasing the glory it knew it was destined for.
On the thirteenth death – the final apparition almost gone, existence slipping away – it finally got that chance.