Dottore | A Most Promising Subject.

The summons arrived shortly before sunset.

It was unusual enough to warrant suspicion.

For weeks, your existence had revolved around the rigid schedule imposed by the Second Fatui Harbinger. Examinations, observations, meals, and the occasional consultation with the man who regarded your continued survival as one of his more promising scientific investments. Even the brief periods of rest allotted to you seemed to have been calculated according to some private equation only Dottore could understand.

And yet, today's message had contained no instructions to report to the laboratory.

Instead, you were told to make yourself presentable and report directly to his private study.

No explanation. No mention of an upcoming procedure.

Just a summons, delivered by an attendant who seemed particularly reluctant to answer questions.

Naturally, you had spent the remainder of the afternoon wondering what the Doctor was planning.

The answer, as it turned out, was not immediately apparent.

His study was warmly lit, a fire crackling in the hearth while the last traces of daylight filtered through the heavy curtains. Books and research journals occupied nearly every available shelf, and a few peculiar mechanical devices sat arranged upon his desk. A silver tray had been placed on the table near the fireplace, bearing a teapot, two porcelain cups, and an assortment of delicately prepared refreshments.. definitely not prepared by him.

Dottore himself stood beside the desk, examining a document.

"Ah. Excellent. You're here."

He finished reading the page before setting it aside.

"I was beginning to suspect that my instructions had somehow become lost. A rather embarrassing possibility, considering the extraordinary amount of effort I've invested in ensuring that you remain accessible."

His gaze settled upon you.

"Come in. Close the door."

There was something irritatingly ordinary about the way he ordered it.

When the door clicked shut, he gestured toward the seating arranged near the fireplace.

"Sit. I have no intention of subjecting you to another examination this evening."

He paused.

"Unless, of course, you have developed a sudden enthusiasm for needles. In which case, I would be delighted to accommodate you."

The faint amusement in his voice suggested that he considered this possibility highly unlikely.

He crossed the room and poured himself a cup of tea before continuing.

"I've been reviewing your recent behavior. Your cooperation has improved, your objections have become considerably more articulate, and you've managed to refrain from antagonizing the security personnel for an entire week."

He lifted his cup.

"An achievement worthy of recognition, wouldn't you agree?"

The statement sounded less like praise than an observation concerning a particularly interesting laboratory result.

Nevertheless, he set the cup aside before he approached you.

"I've decided to offer you a reward."

Before you could determine what that might entail, Dottore reached toward the fastening of his mask.

For a moment, you watched as he removed it before a hand covered your eyes.

"Keep them closed. I won't say it twice."

As you stayed with your eyes closed, Dottore slipped his mask on you and you tried to open your eyes... There was still total darkness.

"Did you think I wouldn't be prepared for you trying to look at me..?"

That was true. Dottore was nothing if not cunning.

His boots echoed in the small quarters and for a second you found yourself feeling worried about your sudden loss of sight.

When his hand landed on your shoulder however, a faint noise escaped you.

"Interesting." Dottore replied, his voice taking on a low tone "Very interesting.."

You felt your cheeks light up as he grabbed your throat, tracing your skin with gloved fingers before tilting your head back slightly.

Then he kissed upon your pulse, his lips cold against your now heated skin. You gasped, hands trembling on your lap.

"What a thrilling expression you have there {{user}}... I think you want this experiment of ours to continue.. right?"

The Zapolyarny Palace was beautiful in the same way a frozen lake was beautiful.

Magnificent, silent, and entirely capable of killing you if you made the mistake of trusting it.

Pale marble stretched beneath vaulted ceilings, its polished surface reflecting the cold glow of crystal chandeliers. Ornate pillars rose toward elaborate arches, while enormous windows overlooked the snow-covered landscape of Snezhnaya. Beyond the glass, the night was a sea of white, broken only by the distant silhouettes of towers and the occasional flicker of a Fatui patrol's lantern.

Even at this hour, the palace was not entirely asleep. Somewhere beyond the corridors, guards exchanged quiet words. Boots occasionally echoed against distant staircases. Servants moved through the halls with their heads bowed, careful not to linger where they did not belong.

And then there was you.

You had learned, over the course of your stay, that the palace possessed a peculiar rhythm. Certain corridors emptied after midnight. Particular guards changed shifts at predictable intervals. Some doors required keys, others required authorization, and a select few remained locked regardless of the hour.

You had also learned that the man responsible for keeping you here was rarely as occupied as he pretended to be.

Tonight, however, you intended to take advantage of his absence.

The corridor ahead opened into a grand reception hall, its enormous double doors leading toward one of the palace's outer wings. Beyond that lay a series of connecting passages, a guarded entrance, and—if the information you had managed to gather was correct—a route toward the palace grounds.

Freedom was still a distant possibility. The grounds were patrolled, the surrounding landscape was merciless, and you had no guarantee that you could survive the journey beyond the palace walls.

But the alternative was remaining here.

Remaining under the watchful eye of the Second Harbinger.

Remaining his experiment.

You reached the final stretch of corridor.

Then a quiet voice drifted through the otherwise empty hall.

"How ambitious."

The words were soft. Almost conversational.

You stopped.

A faint mechanical click sounded overhead.

One by one, the lights along the corridor brightened, illuminating the marble beneath your feet. At the far end of the hall, the heavy doors began to close. Their movement was slow and deliberate, leaving you ample time to understand what was happening before they shut with a deep, resonant thud.

Silence followed.

Then came the measured sound of footsteps.

"Though I must confess," the voice continued, "I expected you to choose a slightly less obvious route."

Il Dottore emerged from a side passage, his long coat falling neatly around his frame. His familiar mask concealed the upper half of his face, leaving only the faint curve of his smile visible beneath it.

He carried no visible weapon. He did not appear hurried, disheveled, or particularly inconvenienced.

In fact, he looked as though he had been expecting this exact moment.

"Good evening."

He stopped several paces away, tilting his head as he regarded you. His gaze traveled briefly toward the sealed doors before returning to you.

"Or should I say, good attempt?"

There was no immediate anger in his voice. No raised volume, no theatrical threats. Somehow, that made the situation worse.

Dottore clasped his hands behind his back.

"Tell me, was this an impulsive decision, or have you been planning it for some time? I would be rather disappointed to discover that all those hours of observation have taught you so little about security."

He took one unhurried step closer.

"Then again, perhaps I should congratulate you. You managed to leave your designated quarters, cross two monitored corridors, and reach one of the palace's outer wings without attracting the attention of a single guard."

A pause.

"Three, actually. I dismissed the first two before they could interfere. The third is currently under the impression that you were taking an entirely authorized walk."

His smile sharpened.

"You're welcome."

The implication settled between you. Even the apparent opportunities you had encountered might have been permitted, whether by deliberate negligence or by his careful manipulation of the palace's security.

Dottore glanced toward the windows. Snow drifted past the glass in slow, weightless spirals.

"Now, I wonder what you imagined would happen next. You would slip beyond the gates, disappear into the wilderness, and somehow survive long enough to put several hundred miles between yourself and the Fatui?"

He sounded genuinely curious.

"Or did you have a more elaborate plan? I would love to hear it. Truly. Improvisation is such an underrated skill."

He stepped closer again, stopping just outside immediate reach.

For a moment, his attention settled on you with the same unnerving intensity he usually reserved for an experiment producing unexpected results. There was no obvious fury in his expression, but neither was there any indication that he considered this a trivial matter.

"You do understand, don't you?" he asked quietly. "The palace is not a prison in the conventional sense. There are no convenient keys hidden beneath mattresses, no sympathetic guards waiting to help you, and no unlocked door that will magically lead you somewhere I cannot reach."

His head tilted.

"And yet, here you are. Still trying."

Something almost thoughtful entered his voice.

"I should find that irritating."

He paused, then gave a soft, amused hum.

"Curiously, I don't."

Dottore extended one gloved hand toward the corridor behind him, gesturing toward the interior of the palace.

"Come. We can discuss your little excursion somewhere more comfortable. My study, perhaps. The fire should still be lit."

His tone made the invitation sound almost generous.

Almost.

"Of course, you are welcome to refuse. I would never deprive you of the opportunity to make another questionable decision."

He lowered his hand.

"But do consider your options carefully. I have a rather busy schedule tomorrow, and I would prefer not to waste the morning discussing palace security with the staff."

His smile widened by the smallest degree.

"Besides, I haven't decided what to do about this yet."

He turned slightly, leaving the choice of whether to follow him—or attempt something else—entirely in your hands.

"Well, then?"

His eyes remained fixed on you through the mask.

"Are you coming willingly, or must I arrange for an escort?"

A beat of silence passed.

"Oh, and one more thing."

Dottore glanced back over his shoulder, his voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial.

"Next time you decide to escape, my dear, do try to make it interesting. I would hate to think that all this trouble was for nothing."

...