Her hair had always been red and stringy and straight as a bone; she looked like a rag doll with yarn pasted poorly to her head, but she never complained. Though she'd been made, not born, and was now a servant to the man who made her, she couldn't complain.
Not as long as she could see him every day.
He was king, king of a great land with adoring subjects. He ruled well and had a kind manner about him, despite his yearly profession as a nightmare. No, he'd never been a nightmare to her. He was perfection, absolute perfection.
And he spoke to her.
Her greatest joy was that he knew who she was, knew her name and her face by heart. Not only did he know her, he was her friend. He confided in her, told her secret things that, before her creation, had been whispered to the wind. He told her everything, and her heart swelled with the knowledge that she was his confidant.
Still, despite the happiness his friendship brought, she wanted more.
She wanted him, undying and eternal. She wanted to feel absolute love radiating from him when he embraced her. She wanted to know his ins and outs, the depth of his kiss, the chill of his bones against her skin. She could live with his friendship, but she needed to live with his love.
------------------
He'd known her for as long as he could remember. The good Doctor had created her long ago, when he was but a young prince, not yet man enough to be king. He had marveled at the Doctor's technology then, at his ability to give such a thing life, but now he knew it was not the Doctor's skill that had given her life. Her own will to live had brought her spirit to dwell within the body that had been made for her. Then, she had come, she had drawn her first breath, and he had been smitten.
Before her, he'd had no one. His secrets remained secrets until there was such a surplus of them he could barely stand to exist, but now... now, she was there, she was always willing to bear his weight, and he was always grateful for it. For her.
Gods, he didn't know how he'd survived before she came. She was everything to him, the very air he would breathe if he could, the very life that flowed within him. She was his sustenance; she kept him alive, and he would always love her.
She was so strong. The Doctor had no idea what he'd created in her.
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