For spontaneity, even this is a little too unexpected. Sat at the dressing table in the Tardis Wardrobe, I can hardly sit still. I keep shifting in my seat, worrying my rings, chewing on my bottom lip. My long skirts have been replaced by a knee-length white tulle dress, embroidered all over with silver stars that glitter however I turn. It was waiting for me when I first arrived, a gift from the Tardis.

Clara tries to turn my head back to face the mirror for the tenth time and huffs, waving the silver hairpin that Jack had gifted me. "You know, if you can't keep still, it won't be your hair this thing parts. Reckon the Doctor would rather you're intact for the wedding."

Wincing, I mutter, "Right. Sorry."

I work harder to remain still, resorting to simply fidgeting with my rings. She chuckles to herself and catches my eye in the mirror. "You nervous?"

"No. Just excited. For the first time in my life, this is the one thing I'm going into without a single doubt. I've never been more certain of anything. Is that weird?"

"Not at all. It's sweet." Now my hair has been parted into six separate sections, she begins to braid them. Our eyes meet again and she smiles at the sight of my unblinking focus on my own appearance. "How long have you known each other?"

Realising just how breathless I feel, I inhale deeply. "About three years, I think. Hard to know when you're a time traveller. Plus, there was a five-year gap." At her confused frown, I explain, "Stayed behind in a parallel universe. It's all very complicated. But we've basically been married for ages. Wore this ring for a year after we pretended to be Mr and Mrs Smith for an investigation. Then he gave me this other one more recently. It was meant to be a memento, 'cause there was this identical version of him who we had to drop back in the other universe. He was half-human. I could've aged with him and had a family and everything, but I stayed here, so none of that was very realistic anymore. Long story."

She is taken aback by the rambling outburst. "Oh. Wow. He wasn't kidding when he said it was complicated, then?"

"Not really. But Gods know we've deserved this wedding after everything we've been through."

Clara raises an eyebrow. "'Gods'? Which ones do you worship?"

Her curiosity is refreshing. I smile and trace my owl-engraved necklace as I say, "Minerva. Well, her and the rest of the pantheon."

"What, Roman ones?"

"The Romans came from us."

"Very cool," she praises. "I thought most religions had, like, rules or something."

I look back up at her and let her tilt my head to the side. "'Rules'?" I repeat questioningly.

She nods. "You know. Keeping the faith, marrying someone who believes the same thing. Does the Doctor believe in your gods?"

"No."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

Shrugging, I let my hands fall back into my lap. "Of course not," I reply. "Clara, I have seen a million different places, a million different religions. I believe in what I believe and others are free to do the same. If anything, I think he finds it as a comfort."

"'A comfort'? Why?"

There is no ill intent to her questions, simply a desire to understand. I find myself wishing that she could travel with us instead. We haven't had a friend since Donna. The reminder sparks a flicker of grief that I try to suppress with a chuckle. "Because even if I lose everything, even if I lose him, I'll still have something to keep me going. The Doctor may not worship my Gods but he loves them, because they love me. Besides, I've been alone, keeping the Gods in my heart, for a very long time. I can manage a little longer."

The moments pass. All I want is to be out there with him, saying our vows, getting Juno's blessing. She is finished with the braids and reaches across me to grab a handful of bobby pins in order to interweave them all together. I watch her closely, my own question in mind. "What you said before..."

"About?"

"About knowing me." She hums and I nervously continue, "It doesn't seem like you do. Were you lying, or..."

Alarmed by the suggestion, she hurriedly shakes her head. "Not lying, no. It's just that you and the Doctor were in this portrait back in the National Gallery, with Elizabeth the First."

I laugh at the memory, desperate to ignore the sinking feeling that comes when I realise that she has never met me before. "Oh, yeah. Posed for that the other day. Trust me when I say that you do not want to have your painting done live, it'll wreck your joints." My next query is ready, clouding over all other thoughts. I exhale shakily. "What did he tell you?"

Her eyes narrow. She pouts a little to show her ignorance. "Just your name, and that he remembered that day."

"Like, good 'remembered'? Or did he seem... sad?"

I wait for her answer. She doubles down on the hairstyle with unwavering focus.

"Clara," I sternly plead. She hums again, a bobby pin secured between her teeth. "Was he happy to see me?"

It takes her another moment to meet my reflection's anxious gaze. She smiles but I see the strain in it, like there's something holding her back, something she isn't telling me. "Of course he was."

—

The scene is set when we emerge. A flaming brazier stands upon bricks in the middle of the Tower's front lawn. An aisle is formed before it, the two Doctors on one side and Elizabeth on the other. And right at the end, just before the fire, is him.

I take a moment just to watch him. He has kept his brown pinstripe suit, his favourite one, but wears a navy tie I don't recognise. He fidgets, too, picking at the hems of his sleeves and repeatedly attempting to brush out the creases of his suit, picking away any fluff. My chest tenses at my momentary breathlessness.

"You ready?" Clara whispers.

"Oh, Gods, yes."

She pulls the veil over my head, a pale citrus yellow as is the tradition of my people, and carefully lays a wreath of interwoven laurel leaves, white lilies and roses atop it. As a finishing touch, she secures Jack's spear hairpin in the front of my dress as a delicate brooch. "Go get him."

With the first step I take out of the Tardis, it lets out a hum that catches the attention of our tiny wedding party. Now that Clara has hastily joined Elizabeth's side, I must walk alone.

The Doctor turns and I'm sure my heart has stopped beating. His perfect brown eyes fix onto me. In an instant, they shine brighter than ever before from forming tears. He watches my every step, both our breaths held. I have no bouquet, only my rings to seek a distraction in as I make my way towards him.

The second I reach him, his hands are in mine, grasping so tightly that I doubt he'll ever let go again. I have to guide them to the laced hem of my veil. He pulls it back with trembling care. A gasp escapes him when he sees my face and I take his face in my grasp, wiping away his tears. "Hello," he whispers.

"Hello."

"Blimey, you look absolutely stunning."

"So do you." Only now do I notice the tiny, silver stars sewn into his navy tie, just like those on my dress. "We're matching," I laugh quietly.

He soon joins in but hides his face against mine, leaning into my veil so that the others can't see him cry. "You're so beautiful. I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe you're really mine."

I roll my eyes playfully, my bottom lip trembling slightly. "I was always yours, silly," I retort, "as you were always mine. And, Gods, do I just want to snog you right now. You're bloody gorgeous."

"What do you say, Inara?" he asks with a daring glint in his eyes; his perfect, sunset eyes. "Ready to go on our biggest adventure next? Think you can brave it?"

"You know I can. You?"

"Oh, yes!"

Holding hands again, we take a deep breath together and kneel before the brazier. I lead him in the opening prayers. He watches me the whole time, entranced. Then, the time comes.

I take the long garland that lies on the grass beside us. It is delicate, a symbol of everything we have endured, our past and present and future — laurels for the victories over every adversity that has dared to get in our way, roses for the love we share, and lilies for Juno, goddess of marriage.

Before I can start, the Doctor pulls my veil back down and lets it fall over the both of us. It is not something I expected. Now hidden and face to face with me, he smiles sheepishly. The fabric filters the sunlight, turning his face to gold. "That's better."

"Are you okay? If you don't want to—"

"Oh, as if that would ever happen. I am absolutely brilliant. Fantastic. Molto bene!"

I bite back my laughter and echo him, "Molto bene."

"Now, listen to me, Inara. I'm going to whisper something in your ear, something very important that I should have told you a long time ago. And I want it to stay between us, only to be said here and now, in special circumstances. All right?"

I nod, catching my breath as he leans in. His lips brush against the shell of my ear and I feel my heart beating stronger than ever. Then he says it.

He says his name. He is quiet but the sound of it rings through my head like music. It seems so strange at first, not the one I have called him by all this time, but when he moves back and I see his face, I realise how well it suits him. I know I will never hear a more beautiful name in my life. Everything to do with him is perfection to me. I can't understand how anyone would see him as anything different, anything less than gods-sent.

I can feel the tears surface again but urge myself on. Our right hands clasp together. Taking the garland, I drape it over our interlaced fingers and begin to wrap it around. The leaves bind along our arms until we are joined like ivied statues. All the while, my eyes remain lost in his.

One more gasp for air, like I'm taking one more breath before plunging into the depths of some ocean. But it is not unwelcome. I've been dreaming of this, drowning with him, leaving one world behind and passing into somewhere far more magical. "I, Inara Clare, do hereby take you—" I begin, then speaking his name under the protection of the veil, unheard from the outside. It rolls off my tongue, sweet and rich and full of treasured possibilities. "—as my lawfully wedded husband under the sights of the Gods and men. May the sands of time sift slowly, and the winds never shift as we set out together, a branch and future of our own. I pledge my love, my loyalty, and my friendship to you for the rest of this life."

"I... do hereby take you, Inara Clare... as my lawfully wedded wife under the sights of Gods and men. May the sands of time sift slowly, and the winds never shift as we set out together, a branch and future of our own. I pledge my love, my loyalty, and my friendship to you for the rest of this life."

He speaks each one with careful precision, void of his usual ramblings and jokes, determined to get this right. Of every utterance of my name, this is by far the best one. Not even the music of Olympos can compare. If I could record it and play it back over and over, I would do so for the rest of my existence. I would listen to nothing else.

I don't want to come out from under the veil. To be hidden away in this most intimate moment is something I will hold onto forever. But there is still one last step.

We stand together, now visible to the others. Together, we carefully unwind the garland. Our hands remain joined as, in unison, we utter the last prayer, "We call on the goddess Juno to bless this marriage; to bring us health, strength and wisdom for our future as one."

To solidify the request, we must have a final sacrifice. The garland falls into the brazier. The flames immediately jump up to embrace the flowers, lapping at their white petals and crumpling blackened leaves. An intoxicating scent washes over us. It is as sweet as his name, heady and light like alcohol. I feel almost drunk off the perfume and the excitement of it all.

I throw my arms around him and he wastes no time in hugging me back. One arm hooks around my lower back and his hand cradles the back of my neck, bringing me as close to him as possible. I find myself laughing giddily, jumping on the spot just to get rid of some of the energy coursing through me like electricity.

"You may now kiss the bride!" I hear Clara cheer.

A cloud of rose petals shower us. I let my eyes fall shut in complete bliss as our lips meet. Once again, we escape into our own world. Stars burst to life and galaxies revolve, planets falling into orbit the moment we connect. This is perfect. He is perfect. And he's mine, really mine. Tears of joy still feel cold on my cheeks but they evaporate under his touch, burned away in the presence of his sunlight.

We part, still wrapped up in each other. His nose brushes against mine and I am taken by another fit of giggles. I can barely breathe, hiding my face against his shoulder. He gives no warning before he hoists me up into his arms and carries me, bridal style, towards the Tardis.

Our lips still meet in urgent kisses as he puts me down on the edge of the console, settling between my legs. I lock around him in a tight embrace, determined never to let go again. "I love you," I confess between kisses. "Gods, I bloody love you."

"You're amazing," he replies. His hands trace over me, weaving into my braided hair. "You're mine."

"Amazing. Yours. Could anything be better than that?"

Mouth still against mine, his curls into a smirk and he wiggles his eyebrows. "Spoilers."

The door opens. Jumping apart, we frantically rush to make ourselves more presentable as the Doctors and Clara enter. He fixes my askew wreath but I think better of it and toss it over my shoulder along with the veil. By the time I've straightened his tie and picked the petals out of his hair, they're almost past the pillars. "You let the place go a bit," his past-self grumbles.

He starts to approach them but I yank him back behind the pistons, licking my thumb and wiping away the coffee-toned evidence of my affections from the corners of his mouth.

"Ah, it's his grunge phase. He grows out of it."

"Don't you listen to them," he coos, patting the pistons.

I give him a warning look. "If you even dare, you will be answering to me."

He sneaks another kiss when he thinks the others aren't looking. "I plan on doing a lot of that, Mrs Doctor."

"Uh... and what makes you think I'll be taking your name, Doctor Luscinia?"

The console sparks and the lights flicker off. When they next come on, we are standing at a completely different console in a room of white and silver. "Ooh! The desktop is glitching."

"Three of us from different time zones. It's trying to compensate."

The other Doctor points excitedly at the walls, grey material patterned with circular holes through which a bright white light shines. "Hey, look, the round things."

Keeping an arm around my waist, my Doctor breaks into a grin. "I love the round things."

"What are the round things?"

"No idea."

He sidles closer. Feeling his hand slip lower, I elbow him in the stomach and hiss, "Oi. Behave, we have guests."

His response comes with yet another stolen kiss to my cheek, "The guests are me, and I don't mind."

"Well, I do. Hands to yourself, Mister."

In our distraction, we almost miss the loud bang and shower of sparks that narrowly miss my future husband. "Oh, dear, the friction contrafibulator." With another flick of a switch, the Tardis changes once again and we find ourselves in a console room almost entirely grey in colour, with strings of Gallifreyan characters circling the top of the pistons. It's almost comically futuristic. He seems satisfied. "Ha! There, stabilised."

We take a look around. He isn't impressed. "Oh, you've redecorated. I don't like it."

His face falls, full offence taken. "Oh? Oh, yeah? Oh, you never do!" I share an amused glance with Clara and he continues, "Listen, we're going to the National Galley — the Zygons are underneath it."

"No!" she interjects. "UNIT HQ. They followed us there in the Black Archive." All at once, our attention falls on her. "Okay, so you've heard of that, then."

I curse under my breath. "If the Zygons have access to anything in there, things just got a lot worse."

Already, the other Doctor is working away at the console, pressing buttons and pulling levers. With a crackle, a voice sounds from the speakers in the walls, "—five minutes. There's a nuclear warhead twenty feet beneath us. Are you sitting comfortably?"

It is the same woman as before. I still can't figure out who it reminds me of. The same voice comes in reply, "You would destroy London?"

"To save the world? Yes, I would."

"You're bluffing."

"You really think so? Somewhere in your memory is a man called Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart. I'm his daughter."

The other Doctor claps his hands together as he calls out to her, "'Science leads,' Kate. Is that what you meant? Is that what your father meant?"

I frown, muttering to myself. "Kate... Lethbridge-Stewart. Wait, I know her."

"Doctor?"

"Space-Time Telegraph, Kate. A gift from me to your father, hotline straight to the Tardis. I know about the Black Archive and I know about the security protocol. Kate, please, please, tell me you are not about to do something unbelievably stupid!"

Her voice breaks, panic taking over for just a second. "I'm sorry, Doctor. Switch it off."

My Doctor rushes to join him. "Not as sorry as you will be. This is not a decision you will ever be able to live with!"

"No use leading with that," I point out. "She's made worse."

The ship jolts. Grimacing, his future self struggles to keep the throttle in place. "Kate! We're trying to bring the Tardis in. Why can't we land?"

"I said, switch it off!"

"No, Kate, please, just listen to me!"

The floor shakes beneath us again. "The Tower of London, completely Tardis-proof."

Clara looks to my Doctor in alarm. "How can they do that?"

Hers answers grimly, "Alien technology plus human stupidity. Trust me, it's unbeatable."

"We don't need to land."

At the grey-haired man's quiet revelation, my husband retorts, "Yeah, we do. A tiny bit. Try and keep up."

"Well, have you got a better idea?" I impatiently ask. "What do you mean, 'we don't need to land'? What are you thinking?"

"There is another way." Making his way over to the console, he takes something from its ledge — the Stasis Cube. I hadn't even noticed it. He carefully takes it into his hands, cradling it as he stares in deep thought. "Cup-a-Soup. What is Cup-a-Soup?"

Sparked into overexcitement by the idea, the other Doctor races towards the doors, arms flapping wildly. "Gorgeous, Sandshoes, Clara; keep us in flight!"

"And what are you doing?" she counters as he throws the doors wide open, right onto the swirling tempest of the vortex.

"Calling our old friend McGillop."

"What, the UNIT science guy?"

"That's the chap." He pulls the landline phone out from its little box on the exterior of the Tardis. I don't think I've seen him use it since the first time we met. "Take a look at your phone and confirm who you're talking to," I hear him shout over the raging winds and the wheezing of the pistons. "You were just talking to me, I know. I'm a time traveller, figure it out. I need you to send the Gallifrey Falls painting to the Black Archive. Understood?"

——————

So that's