“My daughter, you should look in the mirror...” the man murmurs, looking down, then up again, hoping to meet his daughter’s eyes.
She floats away from the window, toward the seven silver Mirrors in her room.
“It seems,” Rassilon says flatly, “... that the Mirrors have taken a shine to you, daughter.”
“They keep me honest.” she says, gently grasping the ornate curls of silver along the top of the middle mirror. She looks at him, eyeing him via the crisp reflective surface. “...won’t you forgive him? He had to do it; it was the only way to save things. I was there, papa. I know.”
Rassilon harumphs, grasping his chin as he considers things. “We’ll see. He has done many dangerous things, and endangered you. Endangered everything. Endangered your relationship with the Master.”
Flamina rounds on her father, bracing herself with the window, her back to the glass- a stance betraying the validium will beneath that delicate lace, lavender eyes boring into him with all the force of a raging solar storm- a tactic she learned from the Doctor, no doubt.
“’My Lover,” she counters flatly, “... has a name- it’s Koschei. And I know about the Doctor, Papa. I know, I know. I know. But he was kind to me. He taught me things you never could. He saved mother. Saved Gallifrey. Helped my silly bookworm save the universe. They do that rather a lot. Ought to do it together, really... Koschei says he’s coming to the ceremony tomorrow, whether the Doctor tells him it’s all right or not. Please forgive the Doctor, Papa? Please? He’s trying so hard to be a good man, despite everything that’s happened. You don’t know what he’s lost.”