john_amend_all | Fic: Dutch Faith

Title: This Time Round: Dutch Faith
Author: john_amend_all
Characters: Nyssa, Octavian, Francois
Rating: All ages
Word count: ~320
Disclaimer: "Doctor Who" characters belong to the BBC. This Time Round was created by Tyler Dion, Francois by BKWillis.
Summary: Nyssa's latest attempt to kill Adric doesn't go to plan.

Nyssa looked around wildly, desperation plain on her face. "Please! Someone, help me!" She jumped back as Adric's sword swept through the air, coming within inches of her throat. "Listen, I didn't do this. I couldn't have! I just bought the little twerp a drink!"

At the bar, Francois looked up. "Poisoned?"

"What if I did? That's just part of the normal give and take of life." She made a dive for the umbrella stand, snatched a broadsword that its rightful owner had carelessly left behind some days ago, and attempted to parry the next vicious slash from Adric's blade. A moment later, she was staring in horror at a truncated hilt. "All right, I poisoned him. So why didn't he die?"

Bishop Octavian set down his copy of the Church Dispatches. "He didn't?"

"Don't play silly word games!" Nyssa dived under a table, only to have it reduced to matchwood around her. "I've killed him enough times to know how it goes. Bang, dead, body vanishes, I don't have to put up with him for the next hour. This" — she pointed at the yellow-clad figure patiently advancing on her — "is not how it goes!"

Francois shrugged. "Psycho girl adulterating drinks, psycho girl taking consequences."

"What did she buy?" Octavian asked.

Francois ran his finger along the row of bottles.

"This one," he said. "New Triton Mead." He wiped dust off the label, and carefully read the small print. "Is bottled by some monks to ancient recipe."

Octavian glanced at the bottle, and nodded. Then he turned back and surveyed the scene. Nyssa was backing into a corner, still holding the hilt of the broadsword as if it could protect her from the approaching horror. Slowly, deliberately, Adric's headless body stalked toward her, red lightning playing over the levelled sword in its right hand.

"I think," Octavian remarked, "I can hazard a guess which monks they were."