Unnamed Doctor Who/Game of Thrones Crossover Fanfiction - Prologue

Disclaimer: This fanfiction transpires in the Doctor's timeline just after The Angels take Manhattan, in Clara's at the end of The Name of the Doctor, and in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire, just after Storm of Swords 1: Steel and Snow i.e. before the Red Wedding. So if you haven't seen/read up to those points in those storylines, beware of spoilers ahead.

Legal stuff: Um... All characters and places belong to their respective owners. Yep that should cover it. 

299AL, Beyond the Wall

The man left footprints in the snow as he ran for his life. With each footfall the snow seemed to bulge upwards around the man’s brown leather boots, clinging to the material, almost as if it were trying to devour him.

            His pursuers followed from a distance, making no more sound than a whisper as their surefooted path carried them through the wood beyond the Wall. Their bodies were hidden in the shadow of the trees, and where they were not, they blended into the white blanketing the ground. The man saw nothing of them as he looked back, but he could sense their presence by the tingling on the back of his neck. He just needed to make it back to his ship. Not the sort of ship you’d find on water, but a different ship entirely, and they couldn’t touch him there.

            He stopped for a second. His pursuers were in no rush. They were waiting for him to wear out. Their normal viciousness was counteracted by their wariness of this adversary. The man rested his arm on a tree trunk, and his head on his arm as he caught his breath. Both his hearts were pounding wildly in his chest.

            One of the benefits of a binary vascular system was extended stamina compared to one-hearted bipeds, like his pursuers. By all rights he should have easily outrun them by now, but something else was powering them, something the man could only reluctantly describe as magic.

            He took out a shining device from his jacket’s inner pocket. The shaft of the device was bronze coloured, with a white grip. He flicked it deftly with his wrist and it extended, the end opening to expose the green crystal at the tip. It glowed eerily when the device was activated, a colour that the inhabitants of this world would liken to their wildfire. It made a whirring sound as he held it flat in the palm of one hand, twirling his body clockwise as he did so.

            The woods were old, probably older than the quite significant age of the man. The trees had grown naturally and randomly, there was no order to them and the man was well and truly lost.

            The whirring of the device intensified and the man stopped spinning. He knocked the device twice against his palm to make sure it was working correctly. When it continued to whir, he set off in the direction it had indicated. That was where his ship was. He wished that he’d landed somewhere memorable, like the massive wall of ice, or one of those trees with the faces.

            He passed one of them now. The tree was of a white wood, with an angry looking face carved into the trunk, not more than a metre above the roots. Two lines of blood coloured sap ran down from each of the eyes, giving it the appearance of weeping. The man shuddered. He’d had enough of weeping, stationary effigies to last him several lifetimes.

            He ignored the flood of emotion that washed over him as he remembered the friends he had so recently lost to the beings the tree had reminded him of. He didn’t have time to lose focus, he needed to escape from the creatures pursuing him.

            The things were new to him, humanoid in appearance, but not quite human. For something to escape his wide knowledge was rare, and that he didn’t know what these were gave him pause. However, he had a hunch as to what might be behind their existence, one he had not yet had chance to follow up on.

            He was beginning to tire now, despite his great energy reserves. Something rustled in the leaves of a tree, behind him. He didn’t have to check to know it wasn’t an animal. They were getting closer. And he was getting slower.

            Through the trees ahead of him he could just about make out the top of the Wall. He wished he was on the other side of it now, safe with those Night’s Watch people he’d befriended. Nonetheless, the sight of it was a good sign. It meant he was nearly at his ship.

            Just as the thought crossed his mind, he saw it. A flash of blue between the thickly gathered trunks. He made a beeline towards it. There had to be no more than fifty metres between him and his goal now. The man burst forth into a clearing, his ship stood on the other side. There it was, a tall blue box, the bluest blue he’d ever seen. Two doors were set into the side facing him. He fumbled for his key as he ran, looking down for a second at his hand in his trouser pocket. He was nearly there. He was going to make it.

            As he found his key, he looked up again and immediately slid to a halt, leaving two comical lines in the snow behind him. Stood now between him and his ship was a lone figure.

            It was tall, almost as tall as the blue box and definitely taller than the man. The figure was as white as the snow surrounding it, in stark contrast to the blue of the box. It wore no clothing but for a tattered loincloth around its waist. It was seemingly immune to the cold in the air. Its breath made no cloud, as the man’s heavy exhalation did. Bones were visible poking from beneath its pale skin, and its face was gaunt and old. Its most striking feature was its bright, blue eyes, not the blue of the box but a chilling blue. They were the eyes of the dead.

            More of the creatures emerged from the trees lining the clearing, until the man was surrounded. His only hope of escape was the box. The box that was blocked to him by the creature.

            He saw now that it held a sword, seemingly made of ice, but somehow glowing a cool blue like the thing’s eyes. A man he’d spoken to in the north of the lands below the Wall had mentioned eyes like the creature had. He’d told a tale of the body of a recently deceased member of the Night’s Watch reanimating, and that living dead thing had eyes like these. But that had been on a human, or something that was once human. These creatures were far from being human.

            The man had also spoken of a group of Night’s Watch that had ventured beyond the wall. A group that contained somebody who had killed one of these undead creatures. That was why the man had ventured up here, beyond the Wall. The guards of the Wall had not wanted to let him follow, but he had easily got past by flying his ship up and over it.

            He hadn’t found the group, but he had found signs of fighting, including many bodies. This group was evidently either dead or lost. He’d been returning to inform the brothers of the Night’s Watch of their loss when he’d sensed these creatures stalking him.

            Now they began to close around him, tightening the circle. At this moment he would have made a reassuring comment to his companion, had he one. But he had made a vow to no longer get anybody involved in his foolish adventures. Too many innocent people had either died or had some other terrible fate befall them, because of him.

            He didn’t know what to do. Usually he would have come up with a spur-of-the-moment cunning plan by now, but nothing was evident. He really was in trouble.

            The creatures were still approaching, swords in their cold hands. All of them, apart from the largest, the one guarding the box. The man swivelled, willing a way out to appear to him. There wasn’t one. One of the creatures was almost upon him. He drew the whirring device from his jacket once more.

            ‘Stay back!’ he exclaimed, his voice breaking on the second word. The things paid him no heed. He made a dash towards the closest one. As he did so he lifted his device and pointed it at the thing’s sword.

            He twisted the device, activating it and turning it up to its maximum resonance setting. Its whirring noise filled the air. The transparent sword shattered. Shards of the ice-like material exploded in all directions. The man swung his arm up over his face as he barrelled towards the thing. It had not been so prepared and sharp shards flew into its face and eyes. It made a screeching noise and lurched to one side, giving the man the opening he needed.

            He continued his dash through the gap in the circle of creatures and ran towards his ship. He saw the largest of the creatures between him and his box, standing stone-still. He couldn’t stop now. He was only a few metres away. He raised his sonic device again to repeat the same trick.

            But the creature was too fast. It swung its own sword in a large arc up from below and knocked the device out of his hand. It flew apart, cleaved cleanly into two halves. Both landed in the snow behind him, sparking green as the device died.  The pieces were quickly trodden into the ground by the ever advancing creatures.

            ‘Oh,’ said the man, as the big one grabbed him by the arm. It drew its sword back. The man struggled helplessly as it brought the sword forward, with lightning speed, driving it up below the man’s ribs and through one of his hearts. The tip emerged from his shoulder.

            ‘Oh,’ the man repeated as the sword was jerked viciously back, leaving the gaping wound open. He fell to his knees, then toppled over face first into the snow. He lay still.

            The things surrounding him took a step back, waiting. One heart still pumped blood around his body, the other shredded beyond all use. But it was more than that, the sword had been cold, colder than anything had any right to be. It had seemed to drain the life right out of him. The man tried not to breathe, to give away his life, but the pain was too much. He gasped.

            The large creature had moved around to his left now. There was nothing between him and his ship. His remaining heart was failing, but if he could somehow get safely through those blue doors he could access the medical equipment inside. He got up as quickly as he could, still on all fours as he began to move towards the box.

            A trail of blood followed him. Each step was excruciating. He didn’t stop to check if they’d seen him. He made a grab for the door handle, his fingers closing around the cool metal. He brought up his other hand, still with the key in his grasp, to unlock the door. Before he reached the lock, cold, hard fingers enveloped his wrist, bringing his hand to a halt. He was yanked backwards, sending yet more pain through his body. He was turned bodily around to face his assailant, his face no more than a foot from that of the creature. The dead eyes stared into him. He couldn’t look directly at them.

            The thing made a repeated choking sound which the man soon realised was its equivalent of a laugh. It drew back the sword again, and repeated the same stabbing motion, up through the opposite side this time, tearing through the man’s remaining heart.

            He felt the last of his life dwindling away. Just as the last of his energy was about to leave him, standing there in the grasp of the creature, his body kicked back into life, beginning the regenerative process. Bright yellow energy poured out of his hands and head, knocking back the creatures, few of which kept their feet.

            This was his last defensive mechanism. When his body was completely overwhelmed, when there was no chance of recovery, he could regenerate. His body changed into a fresh, completely new one. The process was explosive, energy flowing out of him due to the high amount required.

            The largest of the creatures, still on its feet, pushed through this energy. The particles flying at it stripped what little flesh covered it from the bones beneath. It felt no pain, only determination to reach its prey. One hand locked around the man’s long hair, which was growing by the second, changing to match his new body. It pulled its sword back with the other hand and swung it viciously and laterally, severing the man’s head at the neck.

            The regenerative process immediately stopped, the energy dying away and evaporating into the air. The man blinked, his head still held aloft by the thing. Some energy still remained, keeping this part of him alive, keeping his consciousness going for a brief time. His face was fixed in a grimace, facial features locked somewhere between that of the two versions of himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but no air could pass from his distant lungs to voice his words. His head fell to the floor as the creature released it. The Doctor’s head hit the ground, and there he finally died, cold and alone, in the snow.

The Doctor’s Future, Trenzalore.

The Doctor doubled over in pain as he felt another of his lives being erased from his history. The Great Intelligence had just entered his timeline and was simultaneously killing him at multiple points in his past. He stretched an arm out towards Clara as she stepped into the timestream, immediately being split into a million, million pieces. She had gone to save him, but right now he was dying and dying and dying.