@ofthetardis started liked for a starter!
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Braxiatel stood at the windows in his office, looking down at his own personal empire that he had built with his own two hands. He raised a glass of scotch to his lips and was about to take a sip when he felt a gentle telepathic presence enter the room with a light knock on the door. "Romana," He greeted her quietly but did not turn to greet her. Instead, he watched his staff mill about in the gardens below, watched as Hass the gardener trimmed the hedges of his gardens with precision, killing off the unwanted branches and dead leaves. "I hope you've slept well?"
They were the last of their kind. The last to survive the Last Great Time War, as far as Braxiatel was aware. He knew Romana didn't forgive him for what he had to do to ensure she was safe, that she was protected. That she could one day still rule. Or of the things he had to do in the Time War.
He didn't forgive himself either.













