Whisperings

It talked to him constantly, told him things he'd rather not hear. It whispered to him on a telepathic level, so he couldn't shut it out.

It told him of its beginnings, early Gallifrey, the Time of Chaos and the Age of Reason. It spoke to him of Rassilon, of Omega, its creator, and of the other, the one who helped to save Rassilon from himself and the dangers he had made, Kopyion Liall a Mahajestu.

The Doctor didn't want to know. Didn't want to know of the wars fought, the revelations gained. They were too interesting, too much what he wanted to know, too much of what he had already made himself forget. He had studied such things before he had left, but such knowledge was powerful. He hadn't wanted power, he had just wanted to travel and view what the universe had to offer. He had to forget so he could enjoy.

It didn't work out like that. Time and time again, he had had to take command, take responsibility, take power. Now, he had to be powerful just to survive the weak. It told him this and more.

The Hand of Omega whispered to the Doctor, talked to him of cabbages and kings.