Lady Korveradaxarestri, Kitriarch of the House of Stillhaven, is what society expects of a Time Lady. From a respectable family, with an old and respectable bloodline, she studied in the Patrex Chapter of the Time Lord Academy, where her creativity and eye for aesthetics combined with a steady, diligent personality to produce an Architect of esteemed skill and rank within the Capitol. Quiet, reserved and independent, it was almost two thousand years before she even began to give serious thought to society's other expectation—that it was her duty to ensure that the House of Stillhaven had an heir. It was another couple of centuries before she decided that, having no interest whatsoever in marriage, or even romantic entanglements, she would have an heir loomed from her own biodata—and so, Talvinestridaxar came into the world.

Korvera could not be called an affectionate mother, but she took her duty seriously, raising the boy according to the age-old Gallifreyan principles of tradition until young Talvin entered the Academy to study as an Arcalian. In many ways, he seemed to take after his mother—introverted to the extreme, he was never happier than when he was alone in the Library or the Archives. It was no surprise to anybody that on graduation, he took up a position as an Archivist, where he could spend days on end collecting, researching, sorting, cataloguing, without crossing paths with anybody.

So it came as a great surprise to Korvera when her son was caught up in an accident—off-world, at that—and regenerated. It didn't go well. It must have been the shock, she was certain—a particularly severe case of post-regenerative trauma that still hadn't abated after a month in the Infirmary, when he came home, fragmented and incapacitated. Her son was still in there, but it seemed almost as though another of him was as well, that was the strange thing. Still, she took firm charge, caring for him as she once had when he was a Time Tot, and bringing in the very best regenerative physicians to help as he gradually learned to function independently again. His second incarnation was ambitious and keen to return to work, but it didn't last long; he was struggling with his damaged regeneration, and eventually lost his position and returned home once again.

Anxious to help her son in any way she could, Korvera arranged for a medically-induced regeneration under controlled, professional supervision. The result was not what she, the physicians, or Talvin had been hoping for; now, as well as the son she had raised, and the son she had taken back home to help, there was a third frightened, shaken young man in the new body, all together. The physicians took Korvera aside and broke the news. Regenerative dissonance was the diagnosis. A rare regenerative disorder, a defect of the symbiotic nucleus. Painful. Incurable. Hopeless. They recommended transfer to a special facility where—they assured her—he would receive the care he needed. It was the only way forward, the only way to save his life. So, naturally, she agreed.

That night, Korvera got to work. First, she needed to know more about this special facility, and she was alarmed by just how little information there was to find—save for the fact that those few who knew about these facilities sometimes referred to them as "Shadow Houses." Well, that would have to change. She collated information from the medical literature about regenerative dissonance. She took stock of the resources available to House Stillhaven. She began constructing hypercubes to send to the most eminent researchers into regenerative physiology on Gallifrey, offering grants, arranging meetings.

But by the next morning, just as the second sun was peeking from behind the ridge of the Mountains of Solace and Solitude, the alarm went out and she received a missive. Talvin had escaped from the Infirmary, stolen a Time Ring and fled the planet. Over the following centuries, it became increasingly difficult to sort truth from rumour, about what had happened to her son. The Chancellory Guard lost track quickly, and the Celestial Intervention Agency were, as always, tight-lipped; it took all of Korvera's political capital and then some, to glean tidbits of information to even confirm that he was still alive. The rest that she heard, she didn't like. He had become a maniac, they said. A psychopath. He killed without remorse, he destroyed with pleasure, and he kept running.

But that was where Korvera found her new role. The medical field and regenerative physiology had never been her personal forté—no, that was best left to the carefully-selected, discreet scientists and researchers to whom she funneled resources and instructions, almost to the point of bankrupting her House. For herself, she quietly stepped down from her position as an Architect, studied anew, and threw herself into the field of journalism, starting as a lowly Commentator and quickly rising in rank. Here was where she could still help her son, although he would never know it. He was becoming infamous, and the media were clamouring for a piece of him. Holovid documentaries, biographical vidcasts with a flexible definition of "facts"— everyone knew that the viewers wouldn't be able to get enough of a bad boy with a beautiful face and eleven personalities. So, it was up to Korvera to pull some strings. To divert funding away from certain projects. To make sure others never got a greenlight. To drop suggestions in ears, manipulate trends in other directions. More sympathetic portrayals of regenerative disorders. Less sensationalised information on regenerative dissonance.

Perhaps he is out of her reach, perhaps she has lost all hope of ever having back the son she knew, perhaps the Eleven no longer even remembers the name Talvin. But she can at least do her best to stop him from becoming a spectacle, a freak-show. And maybe, one day, things might not be so hopeless. A few Celestial Intervention Agency technicians have taken notice of some of the results of the research she has funded. A little device called a "neural inhibitor", they let slip. . .

During the several centuries after her son left Gallifrey, Korvera realized that her House still needed an heir. Doubt nagged at her, prickled at her conscience—what if the Eleven was her fault? What if she had done something wrong, in some way? But the rational, dutiful, traditional side of her prevailed, and she had another son loomed.

Daxar was quite different to how Talvin had been as a Time Tot—although, Korvera realized as he grew, not dissimilar to Talvin's second regeneration. Ambitious, confident, sly. And, to her dismay, increasingly distant from her as he neared graduation from the Academy. Shortly after graduation, when he had secured himself a position as an assistant analyst to a report writer for a speech composer for a member of the High Council, he married into another House and took their family name. Korvera's attempts to reach out to him—to try and understand what went wrong—have been rebuffed; and although he would never publicly deny her—it would ruin his political career—he clearly privately considers himself estranged from her.