William Shakespeare

Martha's POV

The Doctor’s mouth twisted for a moment, thinking long and hard but in the end, he decided to flick a final switch in response to the psychic message alert.

The viewscreen bloomed to life, yet not with clear video, but with swirling interference like ink dropped into water. Candlelight flickered in the distortion. The audio warped, stretched, and then caught. A voice pushed through, breathy and strained, as if the speaker was trying to stay quiet while something listened from just offstage.

“Doctor…”

Amy’s eyes widened in apparent recognition. “Wait is that really...”

“If this reaches you,” the voice went on, and there was no mistaking it now, as Martha recognized the wordsmith's voice immediately: William Shakespeare. His frightened whispers echoed through the TARDIS raised sound system as the poet spoke. “Forgive the theft. The witch would have had you land upon the stage, in her jaws. But I bent her verse. I sent you to Her Majesty instead.”

The Doctor went utterly still, like someone had put a hand on the back of his neck. Shakespeare’s voice tightened, urgency bleeding through his composure.

“Please understand, she’s using me. She’s using my words, like her daughters did last year when they manipulated me. She wants your box, your blue casket of stars, and she means to crack it like an egg to free her kin from the inside.”

Martha felt her throat go dry with worry. "Clever Will. Thank you."

“She says London will open like a book,” the message continued. “She says she’ll ‘turn the page to the Deep Darkness and that together with her great ally, they will both escape the locks and break the skies.’ I don’t know what that means, nor have I seen this ally of the Carrionite that calls arrogantly herself Hecate in blasphemous glorification. I only know it sounds like the end of the world.”

Amy’s face pinched, instinctively searching for Martha’s reaction. She herself had gone very still too, but in a different way. More focused, clinical, already assembling a mental list: hostage, ****, ritual mechanics, worst-case outcomes...

Shakespeare’s whisper dropped lower, faster.

“Please come quickly. I may not keep her talking long. But do not come blind in your rush to save me for she hungers for you, Doctor. Not just you. Your machine. So be warned and prepared. Save me if you can. But make sure you put London first if you must.”

The transmission ended with a harsh tearing sound, like parchment ripped in half. It was followed by a **** cut-off, as though someone had clamped a hand over his mouth.

Silence swallowed the room.

Amy stared at the blank screen for a second too long. Then she let out a slow breath. “Okay. So that was Shakespeare. Like…actual thee-and-thou Shakespeare.”

Martha’s lips curved faintly, a familiar sense of awe tucked under her concerned composure. “Still dramatic and brilliant, then. Good.”

The Doctor didn’t laugh. He just murmured, almost to himself, “Oh, Will…you clever man. You rewrote their spell. You sent me to the queen instead of the ambush.”

Then he straightened, energy snapping back into his limbs like a switch thrown.

“Right,” he said, sharp and decisive now. “Game faces, both of you. Again, we’re in 1600. That means Queen Elizabeth I, which means—”

The TARDIS doors blew open on their own with a sudden hiss, as if the ship's sentient supercomputer had calculated the possibilities ahead and the potential dangers to the timeline and decided all on its own that waiting was no longer an option.

And before their startled stares lay Queen Elizabeth I in her royal nightgown with a penetrating, knowing and angered stare.

"Doctor! My sworn enemy returns to invade my private chambers. GUARDS! INTRUDERS INSIDE! DEFEND YOUR QUEEN!" She roared.

And just like that, the finely polished wooden doors to her majesty's bedchambers opened in a rush to reveal a handful of royal guards raising their weapons and pointing them towards them threateningly.

Martha raised her hands and, despite herself, couldn't help but let out a chuckle. Amy glanced at her for that, to which Martha could only say. "Nothing, I guess I have just missed having crazy, heart-pounding adventures with the Doctor across time and space."

Amy gave her a knowing look at that as she smiled and then took her sister-wife's hand before raising the other one in a placating gesture like Martha herself did. "I know what you mean. Well, we are having an adventurous detour from our harem breeding fun. Let's enjoy the change of scenery while it lasts."

Martha nodded and watched in silence as her beloved Doctor took a step forward as if to shield them with his body, utter confidence in his posture.

And she smiled knowingly. "We totally got this. Get her, Doc. And all who stand threateningly in our way."

A/N: Merry Christmas, everybody. I am planning to update several times across some of my stories between here and the end of the year to celebrate, but no promises on the exact order yet, as my schedule has been hectic and busy with parties.

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and until next time.