aka Britgeekgrrl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fangrrl_squees) wrote2007-06-25 04:27 pm
fangrrl_squees) wrote2007-06-25 04:27 pm
Entry tags:
The Inevitable Saxon Fic
Warning: sillyfic ahead. By silly I mean in no ways uplifting or insightful rather than silly and goofy. Well, it is silly, I suppose, technically.
And, amazingly enough, entirely slash-free. It's about Lucy and Saxon, a little bit of prequel foolishness. Unbeta'd, so read at your own risk.
***
"But he was so good to my father…"
A portrait of a woman with Lucy’s eyes stared at Saxon from across the room, painted in that disconcerting manner so that her gaze seemed to follow the viewer wherever they were. That’s going to be the first thing to go, he decided.
Beside him, Lucy sat quietly, as still and calm as her mother’s picture. Only the restless drumming of her fingers suggested that she felt anything but total peace. Abruptly, Saxon grabbed her hand with both of his. “Please,” he whispered. “You know how I hate it when you fidget.”
Lucy blushed slightly and nodded, looking apologetic. "I’m sorry, Harry. I don’t know where I picked the habit up."
Saxon bit his tongue. I do, and I wish you hadn’t. Still, perhaps he could convince himself to accept it as a necessary counterpoint to Lucy’s many excellent qualities.
Looking around, Saxon realized that he rather liked the Smith family home, in general, with its Norman foundations firmly rooted in history and the omnipresent smell of dust and the occasional mouse. The house was, relatively speaking, a constant fixture in a changing world and, given recent events, stability was increasingly important to Saxon. Unfortunately, he wasn’t keen on the current master in residence, Lord Cole of Tarminster – Lucy’s father and another long-lived fixture, it seemed.
Master in residence. Saxon smiled at the thought. Sometimes he just couldn’t resist a bad joke.
"Let’s hear you make a case for yourself, then." This imperative would have been more impressive had it not been wheezed out by a withered shell of a man – emaciated and grey. He barely looked strong enough to bear the weight of the blankets on his bed. "What makes you think you’re good enough for my daughter?"
Saxon kept control of his expression. Lucy wasn’t kidding about her father being a 19th century throwback. "I sometimes wonder that, myself." He smiled disarmingly. “But we’re so well-suited to each other, though, that I think that marriage is inevitable." Whether or not we get the blessing Lucy wants, old man.
"A very pat little answer." Cole regarded his potential son-in-law suspiciously. "I’ve chased off more than one gold-digger before, you know." He warned.
Lucy sighed. "Harry’s got more money than you do, Father. He’s hardly a gold-digger. And before you ask, he doesn’t give a fig about the title, either."
That, if anything, worried Lucy’s father any more. "So what do you see in her, then?" Lucy looked shocked, but he waved it off with a feeble gesture of irritation. "I’m sorry, dear, but you’re not the brightest of girls and I don’t want to see you get hurt by some…potential wastrel."
Saxon believed that jumped up new-money was probably more the phrase that Lord Cole had in mind but, of course, good manners would forbid anything that direct. He pushed his irritation aside and kept his mind on the matter at hand.
"She’s peaceful." Saxon said, stroking Lucy’s cheek. "She..." his voice trailed away. "She carries a sort of calming influence with her, no matter how complicated things might be. A sort of living respite from the chaos of my daily life, if you will..."
Saxon shook himself slightly, realizing that he might have said too much. "I suppose you could say that she makes me a better man, just by being near me." And that was, in its way, the truth. It had been decades since he’d known anything resembling peace.
Lucy smiled like the sun coming up, and held Saxon’s hand a little more tightly. "And Harry is a good man," she insisted. "He really is. Why, his very first thought about meeting you was to worry about the strain..." Lucy looked at the myriad medical equipment cluttering what was once the dining hall of Tarminster House. Privately, Saxon thought most of the hardware was useless, but that didn’t matter.
"Lucy explained it to me. Muscular dystrophy, isn’t it?" At this point, Saxon didn’t care if the sympathy rang false. Lord Cole nodded briefly, his expression closing down. He didn’t like to be reminded of his weakness. "Lucy worries about you all of the time." A bit of filial piety never goes amiss, he thought.
Lucy nodded, quick to agree, and Saxon wondered how stupid her father was, to not see that gleam in her eye.
"We’ll look after you," Saxon continued. "In fact, Lucy made me promise as much, as a condition of the engagement."
"That’s something, I suppose." Cole grumbled. He looked at his daughter, and how she barely had eyes for her father at this point. "I don’t think I have much choice," he conceded. "Her mother always said I’d have to let her go, someday."
Saxon sighed in relief, even as Lucy jumped up to – carefully – kiss her father atop his balding head. Getting his approval had meant a lot to her, and Saxon had difficulty refusing Lucy anything.
"Yes, we all have to let go, don’t we?" Cole was startled by the sudden contempt in Saxon’s voice. "But I made Lucy a promise, and as her happiness is vital to my own..."
With that sweet smile that could almost stop Saxon’s hearts, Lucy handed him a pillow taken from a nearby pile of clean linen. "You’re so good to me, darling." She declared in exactly the same tone she used when he brought her breakfast in bed.
It wasn’t difficult, although Saxon was surprised at how noisy it was. Surely suffocation would be a quiet activity? He thought about this as he kept the pillow on top of Cole’s face. He supposed that the noise – the external noise, at least - was incidental and inevitable. Even a man in Cole’s fragile state was going to struggle.
He waited several minutes, wanting to be sure, wanting to be calm before he faced Lucy again. She touched the back of his neck affectionately, and he smiled.
"And you’re sure the nurse will take the fall for this?" she asked, as casually as if assigning the blame for a broken vase.
"Absolutely love, I can guarantee it." Saxon turned his back on the body in the bed. Lucy was a much nicer sight. He took her in his arms and kissed her cheek. "Although I must admit, I don’t know why you couldn’t have done this yourself. It’s not like you blue-bloods risk much in the way of accountability - even in this day and age."
Lucy seemed surprised by his words. "Sweetheart, he was my own flesh and blood. There are some things, a well-bred girl just doesn’t do."
He laughed. "Is that so? You’d better tell me what other things I shouldn’t expect from well-bred girls."
She kissed him, her eyes bright." Don’t worry. There’s not many of them..."
And, amazingly enough, entirely slash-free. It's about Lucy and Saxon, a little bit of prequel foolishness. Unbeta'd, so read at your own risk.
***
"But he was so good to my father…"
A portrait of a woman with Lucy’s eyes stared at Saxon from across the room, painted in that disconcerting manner so that her gaze seemed to follow the viewer wherever they were. That’s going to be the first thing to go, he decided.
Beside him, Lucy sat quietly, as still and calm as her mother’s picture. Only the restless drumming of her fingers suggested that she felt anything but total peace. Abruptly, Saxon grabbed her hand with both of his. “Please,” he whispered. “You know how I hate it when you fidget.”
Lucy blushed slightly and nodded, looking apologetic. "I’m sorry, Harry. I don’t know where I picked the habit up."
Saxon bit his tongue. I do, and I wish you hadn’t. Still, perhaps he could convince himself to accept it as a necessary counterpoint to Lucy’s many excellent qualities.
Looking around, Saxon realized that he rather liked the Smith family home, in general, with its Norman foundations firmly rooted in history and the omnipresent smell of dust and the occasional mouse. The house was, relatively speaking, a constant fixture in a changing world and, given recent events, stability was increasingly important to Saxon. Unfortunately, he wasn’t keen on the current master in residence, Lord Cole of Tarminster – Lucy’s father and another long-lived fixture, it seemed.
Master in residence. Saxon smiled at the thought. Sometimes he just couldn’t resist a bad joke.
"Let’s hear you make a case for yourself, then." This imperative would have been more impressive had it not been wheezed out by a withered shell of a man – emaciated and grey. He barely looked strong enough to bear the weight of the blankets on his bed. "What makes you think you’re good enough for my daughter?"
Saxon kept control of his expression. Lucy wasn’t kidding about her father being a 19th century throwback. "I sometimes wonder that, myself." He smiled disarmingly. “But we’re so well-suited to each other, though, that I think that marriage is inevitable." Whether or not we get the blessing Lucy wants, old man.
"A very pat little answer." Cole regarded his potential son-in-law suspiciously. "I’ve chased off more than one gold-digger before, you know." He warned.
Lucy sighed. "Harry’s got more money than you do, Father. He’s hardly a gold-digger. And before you ask, he doesn’t give a fig about the title, either."
That, if anything, worried Lucy’s father any more. "So what do you see in her, then?" Lucy looked shocked, but he waved it off with a feeble gesture of irritation. "I’m sorry, dear, but you’re not the brightest of girls and I don’t want to see you get hurt by some…potential wastrel."
Saxon believed that jumped up new-money was probably more the phrase that Lord Cole had in mind but, of course, good manners would forbid anything that direct. He pushed his irritation aside and kept his mind on the matter at hand.
"She’s peaceful." Saxon said, stroking Lucy’s cheek. "She..." his voice trailed away. "She carries a sort of calming influence with her, no matter how complicated things might be. A sort of living respite from the chaos of my daily life, if you will..."
Saxon shook himself slightly, realizing that he might have said too much. "I suppose you could say that she makes me a better man, just by being near me." And that was, in its way, the truth. It had been decades since he’d known anything resembling peace.
Lucy smiled like the sun coming up, and held Saxon’s hand a little more tightly. "And Harry is a good man," she insisted. "He really is. Why, his very first thought about meeting you was to worry about the strain..." Lucy looked at the myriad medical equipment cluttering what was once the dining hall of Tarminster House. Privately, Saxon thought most of the hardware was useless, but that didn’t matter.
"Lucy explained it to me. Muscular dystrophy, isn’t it?" At this point, Saxon didn’t care if the sympathy rang false. Lord Cole nodded briefly, his expression closing down. He didn’t like to be reminded of his weakness. "Lucy worries about you all of the time." A bit of filial piety never goes amiss, he thought.
Lucy nodded, quick to agree, and Saxon wondered how stupid her father was, to not see that gleam in her eye.
"We’ll look after you," Saxon continued. "In fact, Lucy made me promise as much, as a condition of the engagement."
"That’s something, I suppose." Cole grumbled. He looked at his daughter, and how she barely had eyes for her father at this point. "I don’t think I have much choice," he conceded. "Her mother always said I’d have to let her go, someday."
Saxon sighed in relief, even as Lucy jumped up to – carefully – kiss her father atop his balding head. Getting his approval had meant a lot to her, and Saxon had difficulty refusing Lucy anything.
"Yes, we all have to let go, don’t we?" Cole was startled by the sudden contempt in Saxon’s voice. "But I made Lucy a promise, and as her happiness is vital to my own..."
With that sweet smile that could almost stop Saxon’s hearts, Lucy handed him a pillow taken from a nearby pile of clean linen. "You’re so good to me, darling." She declared in exactly the same tone she used when he brought her breakfast in bed.
It wasn’t difficult, although Saxon was surprised at how noisy it was. Surely suffocation would be a quiet activity? He thought about this as he kept the pillow on top of Cole’s face. He supposed that the noise – the external noise, at least - was incidental and inevitable. Even a man in Cole’s fragile state was going to struggle.
He waited several minutes, wanting to be sure, wanting to be calm before he faced Lucy again. She touched the back of his neck affectionately, and he smiled.
"And you’re sure the nurse will take the fall for this?" she asked, as casually as if assigning the blame for a broken vase.
"Absolutely love, I can guarantee it." Saxon turned his back on the body in the bed. Lucy was a much nicer sight. He took her in his arms and kissed her cheek. "Although I must admit, I don’t know why you couldn’t have done this yourself. It’s not like you blue-bloods risk much in the way of accountability - even in this day and age."
Lucy seemed surprised by his words. "Sweetheart, he was my own flesh and blood. There are some things, a well-bred girl just doesn’t do."
He laughed. "Is that so? You’d better tell me what other things I shouldn’t expect from well-bred girls."
She kissed him, her eyes bright." Don’t worry. There’s not many of them..."
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Did I mention how much I love Lucy? She fascinates me... And that thing about her father seemed so significant - I hope they give us more.
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Imho, Lucy is terribly nuts in that frighteningly functional sort of way. I'm sure a messy and unpleasant ending awaits her next week, but I'll enjoy the character while she lasts... ;)
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Sigh. I suppose so, but one can hope...
Have you read a book called Loving Roger by Tim Parks? It has a lead character that Lucy reminds me of. If you aren't a spoilerphobe, I talk about it a little here: http://passionrulesme.livejournal.com/3274.html
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*cries* I get that impression as well.
I also have the sinking feeling that her demise will be at the hands of the Doctor. There will be something terrible about the irony of the Doctor killing off another Time Lord's companion, the cure for the intense loneliness.
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Because tell me that, even if the Master doesn't give a damn about Lucy at all, he'd jump on the chance to use her death as an opportunity to pour salt on various wounds...
Nice icon, btw. :)
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I can so imagine this dialog as part of the climax for Season 3.
I can't believe there is only one more episode to the season. There seems to be so many threads that need to get wrapped up and I can't imagine 45 minutes would be enough for it all.
1. Doctor needs to get young again.
2. The world needs to be saved by someone.
3. Jack needs to return back to Torchwood (otherwise, what would happen for Season 2?)
4. The whole "unrequited love" thing needs to get resolved.
5. The TARDIS needs to get repaired. Holy Paradox Machine!
6. Oh yeah, and that rip in space in time too.
*the mind boggles*
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I can so see Simm!Master saying this line:
You’d better tell me what other things I shouldn’t expect from well-bred girls."
Shivers down my spine, I say! SHIVERS!
I think this is really great speculative prequel fic.
Funny, though, how my desire for Lucy is semi-aristocratic but her meeting with the Master isn't necessarily so. Part of me longs for something more calculating, planned by the Master. Another longs for their encounter to be by chance, like the Doctor and Rose or the Doctor and Martha. I imagine that he sees her brilliance and they mutually fall for each other: he for her youth and exuberance, she for the promise of adventure amongst the stars. *hopeless romantic look*
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That's not to say that he won't throw her to the wolves, should circumstances require it, of course. After all, he's the Master. :)
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What is Lucy's fate:
1. Death, at the hands of the Doctor. (The "Oh, the irony!" Scenario)
2. Death, at the hands of the Master. (The "Evil always triumphs" Scenario)
3. Death, at some other hand. (The "Third party so no one gets the blame" Scenario)
4. Life, with the Master. (The "They Escape!" Scenario)
5. Life, without the Master (The "He leaves her because he doesn't really love her, she is heartbroken" Scenario)
6. Life, without the Master because she betrays him (The "I am turning on you, my love. Loyalty, my ass." Scenario)
7. Life, without the possibility of parole. (The "Our heroes save the day and separate the two lovebirds... for now" Scenario)
Can you think of more? Hee hee.
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Personally, I'd prefer #4, but I suspect we'll get #1.
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Love it!
Bravo! More! Yay!
etc etc etc
x
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I'm noodling on another ficlet but, given the current situation (ie, we're in mid-story) I'm not sure if I can make it work. It all hinges on the fact that (bless him) the Doctor, despite everything, immediately offered to help the Master when he started going on about the drums...
And yeah, it'll probably be slashy. Kinda inevitable, really.
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Lovely :) Well, as lovely as murder can be, anyway... :P
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Thanks for reading!
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You're more than welcome :D
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