Archive of Our Own

Theta Sigma carried himself stiffly up the path to the house of Oakdown with more foreboding than he quite knew what to do with. He knew he was leaving, and soon. He knew he could not spare long for this visit, and that the visit itself was, perhaps, a risk he should not take.

But he knew Koschei, his oldest and dearest friend, would be displeased by his choice to run, and he felt a certain burning need to justify it to the man, even knowing he wasn’t likely to change his mind. It was an argument they’d had many times, in many ways—even though the variables had changed, it always seemed to end up with Theta's longing for escape, and Koschei’s frustration with Theta’s desire to do so. None of those arguments had ever resolved well; they both were prone to simply retreating to their mental corners and muttering that they were the one who was right this time.

And yet, and yet, Theta Sigma could not resist having that familiar argument one last time.

Truthfully: he would miss Koschei.

For all of his talk of reforming Gallifrey’s byzantine halls of Power, Theta Sigma knew Koschei, at his iron-core, enjoyed the often-claustrophobic political power structures. No, no, he thought, that was not quite accurate. Koschei delighted in gathering power, gathering privilege. And Theta Sigma understood it—it was a common vice, if not one Theta Sigma ever found himself indulging in. His vice, so far as he could admit to his own self, was rather the opposite: a constant itch under the collar to run away from all these endless and mundane political tasks.

And coward that he knew he was, a small part of Theta Sigma wished to run away from this meeting as well, this last argument. He had been putting it off, but the time had come to settle his accounts before his unexpected departure. He owed Koschei a goodbye, even if it had been years since they had met in person, and so Theta Sigma had found himself packing in haste and telling his granddaughter that he would return for her in an hour or two. 

There would be questions enough when they were gone in the morning.

He would not have Koschei discover it second hand. He knew the man would take that as the highest of insults, and he needed no bad luck following him on the dangerous journey he and Arkytior were going to undertake.

He rapped upon the door of house Oakdown with a hint of urgency; he felt confident Koschei would not mind. They had entertained one another under the covers of the academy innocently enough as children, whispering tall tales and boasts to one another until the suns rose.

There was no answer to his knocking. Theta Sigma frowned.  

He knocked again, more urgently now. A light came on upstairs. Koschei’s bedroom, he thought; he remembered Koschei's rooms in the Oakdown estate perfectly. He had memorized the look of that dark haired little boy’s face appearing through that window, moon-faced in delight, years ago, and remembered too how fast his own hearts used to beat at the sight of Koschei as he walked up this path. No finer celestial object in any sky, in his memory.

But there was no dark-haired face appearing in the window. No, no, there was nothing. Not so much as a curtain moving.

Confound it all. No doubt Koschei must have been buried in some monotonous task or another. Mentally, he reached out, gently found the mind he knew better than any other living person, and gave it a small but unmistakable yank. 

An irritated push answered him; Koschei shoved Theta Sigma out of his mind with a power that made Theta blink in surprise. It wasn’t like the man to be so…brutish. But his face shifted into a smile as he heard slow, precise steps coming down the stairs; Koschei’s footfall always had been heavy enough to hear from the distance.  

"Who's come?" Came Koschei's mellifluous voice. Theta Sigma smiled sadly, thinking it could be sometime until he heard that voice again. If ever he heard that voice again. I will treasure it, he decided. These moments shall be precious in my memory.

"I did," Theta Sigma said, simply, and struck his cane on the ground for emphasis. "As you are perfectly well aware." 

"It's half past the last sun's setting," Koschei said through the door. "Rather late for you, is it not, old friend?"

"Perhaps," he replied enigmatically. "But mayhaps I have a matter I wish to discuss with some urgency." 

"Mayhaps it could wait until morning," Koschei muttered against the door, always quick in his wordplay; Theta Sigma made an irritated hmmm and rapped at the door sharply with his cane. 

"If it could have waited until morning, I would have come at first light, wouldn't I?" He huffed.

There was no answer; Koschei knew perfectly well that Theta Sigma would not have come at this hour were there no cause to do so. 

The silence stretched into a long moment, and still Koschei did not open the door. 

"Koschei," he muttered softly. "Please." He mentally yanked at Koschei’s mind again. Stop ignoring me. I have travelled far for you. Please respect my time. He withdrew before Koschei could forcibly eject him again.

The other man made a frustrated noise and swung open the door. 

Koschei looked older than he remembered, and it disturbed him, the unmistakable passage of time written on Koschei's brow. They had not spoken in person in many years.

Too many, perhaps.

They had started going down different paths, all those years ago. They had kept in touch in letters and brief mental calls, and only now did he see quite the gravity of their physical absence written in that wrinkled brow.

 That was not to say that the years had been unkind to Koschei. Koschei was as dignified and handsome as he had been in his youth. If anything, age had only sharpened his aristocratic features. The nose that had been slightly too big in a youth now looked aquiline and handsome; the thin lips seemed appropriate to his station. His clothing simple but equally suggestive of his position: well made, expensive cloth. He looked quite handsome, quite fetching indeed, yes. 

However, Koschei did not look happy to see him. His lips were set in a firm line of displeasure. Theta Sigma frowned at that; had they truly sunk so low that Koschei did not rejoice upon their first in-person meeting in so many years?

"What do you insist on bothering me for at this hour?" Koschei muttered. "Have you come to my home merely to stare upon my face, old friend?" Theta Sigma opened his mouth, then shut it, giving him a disapproving look.

"Hardly," he snapped. He stepped over the threshold and pressed his forehead against Koschei's; the greeting was intimate, and felt more so when Koschei shuddered against him. How long had it been since they had physically touched?

Too long.

He gasped softly as Koschei's mind caressed his own—a brief touch, but it felt like water in a dessert. It felt like Koschei expanded within his mind to take up all the free space Theta Sigma had within him; for a moment he was overwhelmed and had to step back. 

"How is your spouse?" Koschei inquired. His tone suggested he was not entirely pleased Theta Sigma had slipped away. The question was a knife, meant to injure him.

"As dead as she was at her funeral," he said curtly, knocking the knife away as easily as it had been brandished. "Which, as I recall, you attended." 

It was easy to remember; it was the last time he had seen Koschei. 

"You'll fall in love again soon enough," Koschei muttered. "You always do." And that comment, too, was a bit barbed. Theta Sigma did not miss the insult.

"Forgive me," he said, somewhat tartly. Could the man not leave the past behind? "I had obligations to my house. Obligations which are now fulfilled." 

"You always do." Koschei said, frowning and folding his arms. "That’s always our Theta Sigma, isn’t it? Always wanting to run away, but he always fulfills his duties no matter how much he whines about it. Always obligated to do the right thing but makes sure you know he doesn’t wish to—" Theta Sigma interrupted him, stomping his cane on the heavy wooden floor of house Oakdown.  

"Lungbarrow has suffered enough controversy on my account alone, I fear." He sighed. Koschei made a critical hmph that suggested he was not convinced. He gave him a hurt look. In previous years, he might have left it there, and left the rest unsaid. However, given that this may well be the last time they'd ever meet, he allowed himself the luxury of speaking honesty. "She never changed how I felt about you, my dear man. Marriage was an obligation. What you and I have had...is far more than that." 

"You enjoyed her company enough." Jealousy? Surely not, he thought, but then he looked at the sour expression on Koschei's face. That was the green-eyed monster, as plain as day. Theta Sigma raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I saw you together in public," Koschei hissed. "Disgusting little love birds, you and all your incessant brood." Theta blinked. He had loved his spouse.  But Koschei had married another time lord himself, and they'd loomed a child all their own. Why was he carrying on about this? It did not suit him. Jealousy looked poor on Koschei's fine features. 

Enough of this childish spite. It was entirely possible this could be their final meeting, their curtain call. He would not have it turn into a recrimination of petty jealousies. He struck the floor again.

"She is quite dead, so any restriction her presence placed upon you is long dissolved, hmm?" he spit. Koschei only sulkily raised a brow, and, losing his temper a bit, Theta Sigma struck his cane upon the floor again. "Confound it, my dear man, I've come to you this late in the evening for a reason! Would you care to know it, or would you rather skitter about, bringing up old jealousies that should have been extinguished long ago? Hm? Hm?”

Koschei offered no answer. Koschei simply gave him a rather unsmiling glower and stalked off toward his drawing room. Theta Sigma followed, stubborn as he ever was when it came to Koschei. He paused as he entered; much to his surprise, Koschei was not alone in his manor.

 Koschei's daughter sat at the piano, her hands poised over the keys as if she had planned to commence playing and stopped only for his intrusion. Perhaps she had. He lingered a moment, looking at her, then glancing back to Koschei; he had hoped to talk to Koschei alone. Koschei's look was...haughty. Proud. You've had your endless brood, perhaps, but I only ever needed one. 

And he realized now why Koschei had brought him in here; he had wanted to brag.

"Ah, hello, Klaradrima-dem-oakdown-ni-roddeth," he said, invoking her full formal name and smiling pleasantly at the girl. He would not be as jealous as Koschei had been. She looked more like Koschei than her other parent; the same sharp, clever features. Her fingers were both as long and as immaculate as her father’s, which had made her a talented musician. 

I'll never hear her play again, he thought with regret; a pity. "Forgive me for being startled, child. I did not sense your presence, so I was not expecting you." 

He knew well she ought not to be here; she had married. He had not come to the joining, though he could no longer remember why. It had been after his wife had died, and after...well, after. Perhaps he had been too deep in his own depression to think of such things. He remembered sending a rather elegant gift. Koschei had married her quite well; into the high chancellor’s family. A considerable political victory for House Oakdown, who had held no grand station within the last few centuries. To see her back in her father's house, now skittish and silent, was a shock.

She gave him a soft nod and then turned her head back to her music. He narrowed his eyes, squinting at the sight. Were those bruises there? He walked a couple steps forward, wanting to observe more closely. "What are you playing, my dear child?" 

He bent down, pretending to study the music—believable enough, he had always loved music. His attention, however, was on Klaradrima. He was, truly, studying her: yes, those were bruises. Perhaps a week old? Red and dark, still. Deep wounds; someone had nearly ended her first life prematurely. There had been an attempt made to hide it with some sort of concealing powder, but Theta Sigma had always been more observant than most.

"That's a very fine piece of music, Klaradrima. I've always been quite partial to that one." He dared to take a more familiar tone with her name, and she did not bristle. 

But neither did she say much. She simply sat, small and doll-like, while Koschei kept watch of them both from the corner.  Koschei smiled when Theta glanced back at him; perhaps because he had both his most treasured people in his sight. The little lop-sided smile on Koschei’s face, the first he had made since Theta had walked in the door, made Theta Sigma’s stomach twist in all kinds of love-lorn ways.  

"Koschei, my dearest friend,” he said, glancing at Koschei as he straightened up from his examination of the music. “I wonder if we might take a walk outside, hm? The night is warm enough and your lovely daughter looks ready to play. I fear I do not wish to compete with the fine melodies she can make. My voice is not nearly so fine, as well you know. And it would be a devilish pity to make her wait for the ramblings of old men to finish before she started playing, wouldn't it, old friend?" He put one hand on Klaradrima’s shoulder and tapped it lightly. He meant it as a friendly hello from a childhood uncle, and little more.

But Klaradrima flinched under his fingertips. That hurt. I will ask Koschei what has happened to her at once, he thought.

Koschei smiled at the suggestion and his eyes lingered on Klaradrima; he was proud of his daughter, Theta knew. If Koschei loved anything in this world, Theta knew it was power first, his daughter second, and Theta himself perhaps a distant third. The marriage that formed Klaradrima, he knew, had not been nearly so melodious–Koschei’s spouse had been high-born, but not nearly so clever as Koschei. Then again, one did not need to be so clever when one had been born to two council members. At any rate, their mixed origins and shared obstinacy had made a long-term bond impossible, and Theta Sigma had not been surprised when the two had separated, and only slightly more so when Koschei did not remarry. Koschei had Klaradrima; he had gotten what he wanted out of the whole affair, a child with high-born prospects and a sharp, Oakdown-tutored mind.

A child, once loquacious, and now disturbingly mute.  Oh yes, Theta Sigma was concerned, most concerned. 

"We can take a walk. See the stars, hm?" Theta Sigma smiled, trying to act as if he was at ease when his entire body longed to demand the truth of what had happened in this stern, unhappy house. He would ask. Yes, he would ask Koschei…Once he was far enough away from Klaradrima that she would not overhear his inquiry, anyway. He did not wish to remind her of any...bad memories, and the marks around her face and throat suggested that what had happened may indeed be quite monstrous. No, no, he would wait, and would only ask the woman herself if Koschei was less than forthcoming. 

"We can walk,” Koschei drawled. “I need a moment, however. Wait by the front door.”

Theta Sigma nodded and left the drawing room without further argument, though he was sharp enough to notice that Koschei had ordered him away from Klaradrima. Curious, but Koschei was often a creature who did not like to be discussed in abstentia. It could well be born of concern that Klaradrima may be uncomfortable in his presence—perhaps any man's presence. 

Save, one could hope, her father's. 

Koschei kept him waiting for several minutes, giving Theta Sigma plenty of time to reflect. He sat in the cold entryway of Oakdown, wondering how despite its rich decor and long history, it always seemed so cold and foreboding. The Lungbarrows were a far lesser noble house than the Oakdowns were, but his childhood home, even if wedged into the side of a mountain, somehow seemed less oppressive and unwelcoming than house Oakdown's sober and heavy atmosphere. 

After a moment, he heard Klaradrima begin to play, her fingers moving over the keys with diligent and sharp precision. He closed his eyes, attuned his mind to the melody. It was indeed a well-done piece, perfectly executed to the letter. Koschei should be proud of her, he thought. As if that thought had lured the man out, Koschei himself reappeared, fiddling with something in his pockets.

"Come," Koschei said, opening the door. 

Theta gave him a stiff nod. "I thought perhaps we might explore your gardens today, hm? A nice walk in the evening breeze shall do us both some good." And the gardens were mercifully private; they had spent so many of their young years there.

Koschei nodded in return, and took a step forward—then stopped. "One more moment," he said sternly, and stormed back into the drawing room with Klaradrima. Theta waited, listening for reassurances for the poor girl, but he heard none, and Koschei simply reappeared a moment later, a long quilt folded neatly on his arm. 

And that almost shattered Theta Sigma’s heart, frail though it felt in this moment. Koschei remembered. And if Koschei was feeling nostalgic... then he likely already suspected. 

"A lovely idea," was all Theta Sigma could say without his voice betraying him, and he gave Koschei the thinnest of smiles. He reached out mentally at the same time, gently knocking against Koschei's heavy shields. 

The request was rebuffed, no less quickly than before, and Theta Sigma frowned. It was rare that Koschei kept him so distant from his own mind, but then they had been physically  parted for many years.  He shook his head and tried to smile reassuringly, to tell the other man that it did not much matter. 

Koschei linked his arm in his own tenderly, and walked him to the door, then outside. He locked the door behind him; an odd precaution, Theta Sigma thought. 

"Klaradrima has been through a fright recently," Koschei replied, noticing Theta Sigma’s face and interpreting his thoughts correctly, mental link or no. "I do not wish her to be disturbed." 

"I understand," he said. "A noble gesture." 

"I love the girl," Koschei was not looking at him, uncomfortable as he always was in expressing any emotion. "Like my own heart." 

"It is a curious feeling, hm, these sentiments we give our children?" He huffed in the cold air; night fell fast on Gallifrey, and he wished he had brought his thicker overcoat. But it was already packed, no doubt being loaded onto the TARDIS by his granddaughter’s most capable little hands. Koschei, as if he heard Theta Sigma’s thoughts, put his hand on Theta's shoulder. For strength? In censure? Theta Sigma could not say.

 "Children," Theta Sigma said, then paused, looking at that hand. "It feels like yesterday we were only boys." 

"Indeed." Koschei guided him toward his estate's formidable gardens. There had always been so much unusual flora here when he had been a child. Koschei's father's strict and unforgiving standards were no less rigid for his gardens than for his son, and both had been very impressive and very intimidating to a much younger Theta Sigma. "But we are no longer boys, old friend.”

He gave Koschei a stiff nod; he felt his age, and felt it more every day. He wondered how long he'd be able to keep regeneration at bay, now; the concept of it frightened him. There were days enough that he felt unsure of who he was; the thought of his body undergoing such a traumatic change felt frightening. He did not know what would come of it. He was not sure he wanted to know what might come of it. Sometimes he could feel it beginning, under his skin; the regenerative energy that licked at his bones at times when he was most stressed. Not yet, he willed; not yet.

No, no, now was not the time to think of such things. Tomorrow would be for new beginnings.

Tonight was for his oldest friend.

Much to his surprise, Koschei walked him all the way to the back of the garden before guiding him down onto a metal bench. 

"This is new," he muttered, making small-talk; the bench had not been there when last he'd visited. Koschei unfurled the quilt, wrapping it around both their shoulders. Theta Sigma found himself relaxing, leaning into Koschei. A blessed balm against the chilliness of Gallifrey's nights. 

Perhaps the last night on Gallifrey I shall ever witness, he thought.

"It is indeed," Koschei said. "I had the foundation laid last month. I am no longer young, and I thought this more forgiving on my knees these days rather than our old habit of laying on blankets, charting stars."

He looked down and away from Koschei’s careful gaze; truth be told, he missed those romantic, star-shine nights at Koschei’s side. "It is rather unusual to pour such a heavy foundation for such a simple bench, hm?"

His mind was not, entirely, on the bench.

Koschei shrugged. "There is no use in building something if it is not built right." Theta Sigma glanced at Koschei, a little smile on his face; this was the Koschei he recognized best and found most winsome. Koschei always wanted everything to last forever, as long as it was within his control. 

"Quite so, quite so," he muttered with a small smile. Koschei put his arm around him, and Theta Sigma leaned into the gesture. It was beautiful, this garden; he could hear the distant notes of Klaradrima playing her piano even here, and the heady, spicy flowers of the garden reminded him of the delights he had enjoyed in this garden with Koschei in their youth. His mind touched against Koschei's again—this time the man held it, but only for a moment before letting it drop once more. "Why do you do that? Why will you not let me into your great mind, Koschei? I miss it so." 

"Because I do not wish to," Koschei said, his voice measured and clipped and precise as it ever was. 

"But I wish to," he said sadly, and buried his head in Koschei's neck. The beard tickled, and Theta tried, very hard, to memorize the feel of it, even with Koschei being as hard as marble next to him. The last time I'll have this, he thought. He had always loved Koschei Oakdown; when the branch of the man was pliable and bending, and when the trunk of the man was rigid and unyielding.

Koschei neither returned his affections nor rejected them, simply sitting with him, wrapped in an old quilt. They stayed there for what felt like an eternity; Theta Sigma looked up at the stars and tried to memorize the moment, as best he could.

"Why are you here, Theta?" Koschei asked after a few moments, the coldness of his words belied by his arm finally taking action, curling around Theta's shoulder. Theta Sigma’s hearts beat faster in response, and, coward that he was, he dodged the question, not quite wanting those hearts to break just yet.

"What has happened to your Klaradrima?" he asked; Koschei stiffed further—somehow—and withdrew his hand as if he had been struck.

"It is not your business," Koschei said quietly, his voice all business. "If that's all you've come sniffing about for—"

"It's not why I came at all! But…she is so bruised, hm? So bruised. It troubles me. She is yours, Koschei, and I know she is a most beloved child. Do you not think that renders her precious to me?" He snapped. "Would you not feel the same alarm, were you to find my Arkytior in the same condition?" 

"Arkytior is not your—"

"She is all I have left,“ Theta Sigma said, more sharply than he intended to. He shook his head, then, softer, murmured to Koschei: "Present company…excepted, of course, my dear man." 

Koschei fell silent at that, then stared at him for what felt like an eternity. He returned the glance,staring down the man with every bit of moral backbone that he had.

"...It is so," Koschei muttered after a long moment, but he turned his head away, refusing to look at him. Confound his stupid pride! "I would inquire were it Arkytior in such a state." 

Theta Sigma nodded, satisfied at winning that small concession; he closed his eyes, smelled the flowers as he waited for Koschei to speak. Glintrolka; lovely to sniff at, if dangerous in some of its applications. Not an unapt metaphor for Koschei.

"...Her husband was not a good man." Koschei said, his voice whisper quiet. The branch bending, at long last. "He brought violence to her. I witnessed it. So—I have brought her home. Where she is safe." 

"How grave," Theta Sigma muttered. "How frightful." He thought of how Klaradrima had flinched at just the slightest touch and his hearts fluttered in horrible sympathy. The poor child. How frightened she must be, that even an old man brought her to such sorrows. He had never known the child to have a sharp tongue, but he thought of how silent she was on that bench, and wonder if perhaps her musical notes were a form of refuge for her. "What a ghastly brute,” he spit, offended on Klaradrima’s behalf. “She’s always been such a smart, gentle girl."

He could not imagine it being self-defense, could not imagine the girl striking first. The one thing she had inherited from Koschei's spouse had been a more dignified manner; far less the intellectual pugilist than her father, if no less intelligent. 

It was quite odd, he thought, how the universe seemed to insist on turning Koschei and himself into mirrors of one another. Koschei had taken his daughter back into his house, out of love. Now, Theta Sigma would leave the only home he had ever known for the only remaining member of his family. Quite right, it was, that they both so loved their children. Quite cruel, too, this fate; to have the same commonality, to share so much and yet to be divided, again and again, in the paths they took. 

"Yes, well," Koschei huffed at him, his voice weighted and…careful. "He looms not quite so large to her now." 

"I trust you've petitioned his family to have the marriage annulled?" He asked; he would assist, of course. If Koschei needed a solicitor, Theta Sigma would serve in his friend’s stead; if he needed a witness, Theta Sigma would gladly testify how he had seen the bruises upon Klaradrima, her hesitance to be touched. It would take some doing, but he could make a clever lie to explain Susan's absence, could say she was only off-world on a trip of some kind of another, and he would come back for Koschei, to testify on his behalf, to right a horrible wrong. 

"That won't be necessary," Koschei said, and his smile was sharp and fit him too well. "He's not been seen in some time." 

He raised his eyebrows, a question in his mind he did not dare ask. 

Koschei, to his surprise, initiated the contact this time, linking their minds as forcefully as he ever had. Theta Sigma's breath tensed; his respiratory bypass kicked in as he briefly forgot how to breathe. Koschei's mind was as strong as it ever was; he had never met another time lord with quite so individual a mind as Koschei's. 

I did what I had to do. Koschei whispered nothing else across their mental communication, and he did not need to. He nodded, his stomach queasy. He did not quite know what Koschei did. He was not sure he wanted to know. His stomach turned over again, and he tried not to throw up. 

Do not look so soft. You would do no less for Arkytior, no? Koschei’s voice was a bemused whisper; to his horror, he looked down at the slab that the new bench had been bolted into. Built right. Oh, Koschei. His friend would never. Surely? 

Koschei shook his head slightly. Not that I'm suggesting you murder the Lord President.

I would rather see him dead than her married to him, he could not help but broadcast, his thoughts tart and unforgiving. Koschei chuckled in his head, and oh it was a cruel noise.

I can help you, if you can stomach it. Koschei's voice was all smooth beckoning. It is not so hard. Perhaps a bit more difficult to kill a President than a mere Councilor’s son but... Koschei’s fingers gently caressed the top button of Theta Sigma’s waistcoat in a way that made Theta suffer most horribly. He moved against the hand, traitorous heart all ready to jump into the arms of a murderer. You and I? Koschei whispered. We'll find a way. 

"Koschei," he muttered, his voice soft, thick with love and horror both; Koschei could no doubt feel the anguish thundering through his mind, but he did not disengage their bond. If anything, Koschei clung tighter. There is nothing we cannot accomplish together, my friend, Koschei whispered, and it poured like honey-mead into his mouth.

And his stomach lurched at just the taste of it. 

He needed distance; he stood, adjusted his waistcoat, and sighed. Koschei's eyebrows raised at the rejection. Theta put his hand on the bench and leaned over it, trying to look at him but finding it difficult to do so. "Koschei," he muttered softly. "My dearest Koschei. My closest friend." 

"We're not friends," Koschei said, boldly, his voice booming. His hand clasped Theta Sigma's own, pulling him back into the depth of Koschei’s whirlwind mind, and it took every bit of strength to resist. "We could be so much more." 

It was a cruel thing to say; Theta Sigma’s face crumpled. "Nothing would make me happier," he mumbled, every word a dagger quietly piercing his heart. "But... I have chosen another solution I fear." 

Koschei withdrew abruptly in response to that. The absence felt like he had been violently ripped away from the other man, and already Theta Sigma mourned the absence. It was as if his mind cleaved into two, and he saw how Koschei had taken it as a rejection and he shook his head. No, no, it is not a rejection of you. It is rejection of the cage, of the limits of it all. 

"You would give Arkytior to our leader?" Koschei was being careful; he did not to refer to the President by name. "Let her suffer? You know his temper. You know how things are in politics. You think he will spare her from being a convenient scapegoat when the moment demands? Lungbarrow is a lesser house." Mentally, Koschei added: Surely you've figured out that's why he chose her. So if she is held to the fire, no one will offer a defense of her—not even you.  

"Don't be an idiot," he snapped, because even the suggestion of it broke his hearts. "You think me that craven?"

Koschei reclined lazily along the bench, infuriatingly composed. "I think it would not be the first time in your life you turned a blind eye to something…extraordinary…due to your own fears about...propriety." He knew what he was doing, driving such a knife into his heart. Theta Sigma wanted to strangle him with that damn quilt, but instead, he only put his hands upon his jacket and gripped the lapels.

"Confound it, man," he muttered. "If you wished to dissuade me of getting married, you should have done so when we were young enough to change course. You cannot resent me for what you yourself did not fight for, now, can you, hm?! For what you yourself did not ask for!" He let his cane hit the foundation with a heavy thud, and tried hard not to think of what was buried underneath it. "And for the record—no, I would never let our high lord President touch Arkytior! Never. I would burn all my regenerations to guarantee it! But I won't take your path." He sniffed, trying to calm himself down and failing miserably at it. He jabbed a finger at Koschei. “That’s you true grievance, eh, isn’t it, my dear man? That I won't deign to put her or myself in a cage."

"You think Klaradrima is in a cage?" 

"You have literally locked her in your house!" 

Koschei's face grew red; he didn't appreciate Theta Sigma's attention to detail. "For her safety. I have not done anything but given her safety—"

"It's a finely cushioned birdcage, that I do not doubt." He reached out his hand. He knew even as he offered the hand that Koschei would shy away, and he did, knocking his hand to the side with so much disdain. "And what you did for her—to rescue a daughter is not something I can condemn. I do not approve of your methods, hm, but neither can I pretend I did not see the gravity of the marks upon her neck. He had no right and I dare say deserved worse than what you gave him."

They were both silent a long minute after that confession. He wound his hands around himself and told himself that it was only to keep the night chill away, and not his desire to self-soothe. Koschei did not offer the quilt, and Theta Sigma’s own damnable pride kept him from asking for t.

"So. You are running away." Koschei's voice broke the silence; it was as steely as a sword, and Theta Sigma felt as if his own head was on the chopping block. 

"Koschei..." He sighed.

 Koschei just glared at him, and that was worse. For a moment they just stared at one another; Koschei stood, tossing the quilt to the side with an angry gesture, but he did not leave, simply standing on the other side of the bench.

It may as well have been the other side of the planet for how opposite they found one another. Still, Koschei was still here. And so was he.

Theta Sigma held out his hands. "You have your ways. I have mine. I cannot condemn what you did for Klaradrima but...I am not the type who can do such things without it weighing upon me. And I do not wish to be live beneath that weight."

"That was always the problem with you," Koschei said, his voice deep and cruel. That it may well be the last time they ever touch seemed to matter not a jot to the man. "Always obligated but never bound to get his hands dirty, our Theta."

He gave the man an incredulous huff. "You rebuke me when I am bound, and you rebuke me me when I refuse to be. Really, my good friend, you might at least choose a position and stick to it.”

Koschei stared at him for a long moment, and though it was hard to not look away, he did not.

The silence lingered. His eyes softened. "Koschei.” The man glanced at him but said nothing. “Say something, hm?" 

Koschei did not.

After a few moments, he looked away from Theta. Theta felt his heart fall, but then Koschei grabbed his hand, and, ever so quietly, said: "Do not go. Do not leave me. This world is horribly boring without you."

"Koschei." His eyes warmed; he squeezed the man's hand, then sat down next to him, a soft smile on his face. "You know I must.”

Koschei’s baleful moon-eyes suggested he doubted that must very much. He sighed and gently took a step closer, and moved his free hand to Koschei’s shoulder. “If I remain, then there is no future for Arkytior. Even were I to go so far as what you suggest, I...she would be left without friends, without family."

"Am I not a friend? I could take her into my house." Theta Sigma thought of Klaradrima, and the piano, and the locked doors and heavy halls of House Oakdown. And he knew that his granddaughter would not tolerate such confinement; she was a Lungbarrow. She needed to breathe, needed open skies and fields. She would never be happy here. No, not here.

"I have no doubt you would take her in," he said carefully. "But Koschei, have sense, hm? In the span of a few years, she has already lost her parents, her aunts and uncles, and her grandmother. I should hate to have her lose me as well. She is not yet old enough to build a life of her own just yet.” He paused, thinking of Arkytior; brilliant and beautiful, and so dutiful. He did not doubt she would blossom in their travels together. “And, admittedly selfishly, I should like to see her grown into a young woman. She's a genius, you know? Absolutely brilliant. Even for a time lady." 

"All parents think their children are brilliant and I am sure it is no less true for grandchildren." Koschei said drolly, but his hand tightened around his. "But I will admit, your Arkytior is particularly intelligent. Had my Klaradrima had any inclination toward the feminine, I might have suggested the match myself." A lie, he knew; Koschei had always had higher ambitions for House Oakdown than to tie himself to another house of somewhat middling repute. Still, Theta Sigma appreciated the lie. 

"Come with me," Theta Sigma said, his voice quiet but deadly serious. "You and Klaradrima. We never fit in here, did we, eh? Let’s leave this place—leave it all behind us, all the jealousies and histories we cannot change. We always wanted to see the stars, and what better time than now, hm? Klaradrima will not find our TARDIS so unsuitable; she will have Arkytior for companionship, space to heal, and two fierce defenders who will make sure any future match will be worth her time and character. And you and I can finally..." He faltered for a moment, but now bravery had caught in his throat, he seemed unable to stop himself from offering what they both had once longed for. "We could finally be together. No obligations. No duties. No councils, no presidents, no…politics. Just us, exploring the stars. Just like we promised, Koschei. I never forgot that promise." 

Koschei grip grew tighter, but he said nothing.

In in that silence, Theta knew. Koschei was not coming.

Koschei's response, if such had truly tempted him, would have been immediate.

"Please." He murmured; he jutted his head underneath Koschei's long neck, praying that Kochei Oakdown would, for once, yield to his desires. "Please, my love." Koschei stiffened at the old manner of address. He had not called him that in a very long time. It was perhaps unfair to wave such a banner now.

"It's what we always wanted." He kissed Koschei's neck, a rare break in the protocol they had both stiffly adhered to after the age of adolescence; Koschei took a deep breath but said little else. "Please." 

But Koschei said nothing.

The longer the seconds went, the more he knew that Koschei would not yield; that the man was Oakdown to the core, and no different than the very father Koschei had spent so many years railing so bitterly against. He would not leave, because leaving meant giving up Koschei’s power. And that, more than anything else, was the one thing that Koschei Oakdown would never stand to do. 

"You always run," Koschei said after endless minutes, his voice soft and sad. He reached into his pocket and dropped something into Theta's lap, unceremoniously. It was a small gem; red. "Here. For you and Arkytior. For when you find yourself sentimental." 

He knew what it was; it was something they'd worked on in university together, a clever little toy that could let the bearer speak to those left behind, were it crystalized for their apparent time signature. Koschei had made further improvements to the design, made this one less-specific; capable of being used by anyone, with a small preference for Lungbarrow genetic material.

"You knew," Theta said, quietly; it was a defeat.

"Like I said. You always run. You've been a coward since we were children." He snorted; that certainly was untrue, or he wouldn't have been friends with Koschei to begin with. But he understood that this was Koschei's way of not letting the emotion of the moment get to him; for is this was the last time he would speak to Koschei, then surely the opposite was true as well. 

"Come with me," he said, quieter now; he knew even as the words left his lips that Koschei would not. But he could stop himself from begging.  

Koschei looked away for a long moment. “This was my father's garden, you know," was all he said after a long moment, as if that explained anything at all.

"I'm aware." Theta Sigma had been in this garden often enough as a child, then a teen; lost his virginity in it, long ago, among particularly tall bushes, to a most beloved friend. The bushes were long gone now, but the friend…

Koschei stood, not so far away from where they had first loved one another, and gently touched the long, delicate pinnate leaf of one of his many plants. "I hated the man."

"I am well aware," Theta Sigma barked. "And more than aware that the man earned your hatred." 

A soft smile graced Koschei's face. It looked well on him. Theta Sigma knew such soft smiles were a rather rare act, and so he savored it. 

"And yet, he is dead, and here I am. Master of his estates. No, more than that. I've pushed house Oakdown to heights that he could only dare to dream of." Theta Sigma nodded; this was true. Koschei had always desired power, and he'd done a very good job of amassing it. More so than even Theta might have perhaps thought, given what lay under their feet. 

"I won't run," Koschei said, softly. "I won't run. This is my home. Klaradrima's home." Theta Sigma did not say it was a miserable home, for he knew Koschei viewed surviving its halls unbent as a strength. Instead, he sighed. He could only hope, perhaps, that with time the man might become bored enough to come find him in space. 

"Well, if you insist on saying goodbye..." He fumbled through his pockets, before finally finding what he wanted to give him. "Here." He shoved the brooch into his hand, quickly, so that Koschei would not see how his hands trembled at doing so. "For yourself. Or Klaradrima. A decoration worthy of your stubborn demeanor." 

"Dark star alloy," he murmured, examining the brooch. 

"It will withstand a great deal. I've read it can go through anything. Keep it...for an emergency. Or, perhaps, for peace of mind, hm?”

Koschei smiled. "I shall have Klaradrima wear it," he said, softly. But Koschei placed it in his pocket.

Theta debated whether he should challenge the man on that, to insist it go to Klaradrima now. But he had given the gift to both of them, and he could only trust that Koschei would use it well. He looked down to the ground beneath them again, and wondered how long Koschei would get away with what he had done for Klaradrima.

It bothered him he could not condemn the man for the murder. It bothered him more than as far as how long, the desired answer, in his heart of hearts, was forever. 

"Thank you," Koschei said; he nodded, studying the sphere he held within his fingertips. Koschei so rarely gave gifts that each one felt of a special value.  They would meet again, he thought. Things felt too unresolved between them, and though they were old men, there was nothing left to them but time. 

"Go on, then." Koschei muttered, not looking at him. “Run.”

He had never been good at goodbyes. 

Theta Sigma placed the red gem within his pocket. "Very well. I shall return to Arkytior. We will be gone by morning." A beat. "If it amuses you, you may make up a good story to explain our absence. But nothing too licentious." He gave Koschei a sad little smile. It did not suit him, he knew.

And Koschei did not laugh upon seeing it. Koschei's face was only half-hidden mourning, and it was breaking both their hearts. His posture as he stood was fully controlled, ramrod-straight in a way that Koschei's terrible father would have admired; Theta hated seeing it.

"I had hoped you might understand," Theta Sigma said softly, though he knew it would make no difference even as he said it. "I know this is not what you want—"

"None of this is what I want. Remember that.” Koschei shook his head. "Mark my words, Theta. Someday, you will regret running." 

Theta Sigma’s face crumpled; he had to turn away. "Perhaps," he whispered, and despised the weakness in his voice. He hated that Koschei was too bound to his power to consider letting go, hated that they were going down different paths, and could find no solace but the love that they had always had for one another. 

"At least..." He mumbled. "At least, if I regret it...it shall be my regret." 

He couldn't look at Koschei for a solid minute, and when he got up the courage to do so, he found the man staring at him. Careful, composed, evaluating; every bit the proud heir of his house. Theta Sigma wiped a tear from his eye. "Right," he said, but he did not say I have to go. 

"Right," Koschei said, and he crossed the distance between them in a rapid stride and seized Theta Sigma’s face, pressing their foreheads together. Theta Sigma gasped as the mental connection between them flared, deepened; Koschei all but crashed into his mind, and he felt everything in that moment that was Koschei: the stern trunk refusing to break, the pliant bough that longed for nothing more than to bend to Theta Sigma's will. He felt their branches brush together and mingle and then Koschei's lips were on his and he wrapped his hands around the man's head and simply clung to him with all his might.

I love you, he thought, without words, because the passion he held for the other man was beyond words. Koschei smirked but did not break the kiss; it was long, passionate, and full of emotions both of them had too much pride to ever quite voice out loud. 

And then, abruptly, it was over.

"Go," Koschei said, his voice heavy with regret as he pulled back. Theta Sigma’s body swayed in the rapid dissolution of their union, Koschei’s mind and body both suddenly a distant island. He mourned the loss, and leaned a hand on the bench to steady himself.

"Go," Koschei said, a little more insistently. "Before I lock you up and keep you in a gilded cage. Go. Now. Please." 

It was the please that forced Theta Sigma to move; Koschei never begged. He gave him a look that he very much hoped expressed all the damnable things he could not say, and then he put his hands in his pockets and walked forward, willing himself not to look back. 

It was difficult. Most difficult.

He sighed and tried to will himself to focus on the future now; he had done his duty, he had given Koschei his goodbye. Now all that was left was to reunite with Arkytior, and then they would go. He clutched at the gem in his pocket, and knew he would be taking at least a small piece of Koschei with him—though he could not say whether he considered that a victory or not. 

And someday, when this president was gone and Arkytior able to come home, they would return to Gallifrey, and he knew, without a doubt, that he would meet Koschei again. If not in this life, then perhaps in the next. 

After all, time, above all things, was the one thing they did not lack. And if this lifetime had not permitted them to be together, then perhaps the next would be more merciful to them both.