𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙊𝙛 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 ✧ 𝘽𝙤𝙤𝙠 Ⅲ [✓]

The Girl Who Died Pt. 2

The Doctor is admiring a finely carved dragon figurehead, {Y/N} stands net to him.

"They took half the village" a man with his long blond beard in two plaits speaks.

"Yeah, and it was the good half."

"They went willingly to Valhalla as would we all."

"I wouldn't. Well, I wouldn't. I'm not good with heights."

"Oh, stop it! All of you, stop it right now. Homo sapiens, you're an intelligent species. Stop lying to yourselves" the Doctor says.

"Choose your words carefully, False Odin."

"Yes, I am a false Odin. That's exactly right, I lied. The big fella in the sky, he lied too. You all know it. Because what's the one thing that gods never do? Gods never actually show up! Guess what? You got raided. Guess what else? We lost someone who matters to us."

"So, did I."

*Time skip*

Clara and the girl are teleported back while the Doctor and {Y/N} are doing some reading.

"Clara?" {Y/N} asks looking up.

"My child!"

"Clara! Clara! Clara!" the two Time lords run towards her, {Y/N} wraps Clara up in her arms while the Doctor sticks out his thumb.

"I'm not a hugger" {Y/N} lets go to look at the Doctor "ahh! Let's hug!" he lifts Clara off her feet.

"No!" Clara shouts with a smile.

"Where are the others?"

"I'm sorry, Father," the girl says looking away from her father.

"We looked them up in our two-thousand-year diary" {Y/N} says.

"Ok" Clara replies.

"They are called the Mire."

"Listen."

"They are one of the deadliest warrior races in the entire galaxy."

"Ok."

"But they're practical. They get what they want and go. You persuaded them to go, didn't you? I knew that you would" the Doctor says.

"The deadliest warrior race in the galaxy?" Clara asks.

"One of them, yes. Why?"

"Because I think this village just declared war on them."

*Time skip*

Clara is out of her spacesuit at last. They're in a longhouse with a series of cartwheel chandlers holding candle stubs hanging the length of the roof.

"They're coming here tomorrow, ten of them, to kill everybody in the village," Clara says.

"Ashildr, is this true?"

"It's my fault," Ashildr says looking away.

"Not every misfortune that befalls this village is down to you" Ashildr's father looks to the Doctor, "she thinks she brings us bad luck."

"What bad luck? You haven't had any bad luck. You're fine."

"We are about to be attacked by..." the Doctor cuts the man off.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes. With a whole day to spare! So, leave! Hop it, take off! Into the woods, split up, hide. Hang about there for a week, come back home, make puddings and babies. That's basically what you do, isn't it?"

"We cannot leave this village."

"Yes, you can. Just pick a direction. Fly like a bird, run like a nose. That's probably a Viking saying, I haven't checked that."