A/N: The following chapter takes place with Johan at 53, Clara at 34, Lena at 3, and the twins at 1 year old.
Chapter Eight: A Vole's Counsel
If there was one thing Lord Johan Lonan, Marquis of Kasterborous, blood-descendant of the Ancient Gallifreyans and (generally) respected ruler of the March, knew it was that he severely disliked being told what to do.
Granted, some of this was actual advice he asked of the local serdars and elders and military strategists. When they came into the picture, usually in the manner of him requiring a second or third opinion and him approaching them, it was acceptable to tell him what course of action to take. The Marchioness, for obvious reasons, was often a wealth of good ideas and even better execution. These were methods and people that usually did not make the Marquis's nostrils flare and whiskers bristle, but the ones that offered their counsel without request or warrant were the ones that irked him most.
"I think the time is well overdue to hire a governess, milord," a serdar mentioned casually as the Marquis sat down on the wide governance chair. It was very early yet, with few in the hall and most of them being servants doing the finishing touches on their daily cleaning. With Tara in a red dress in one arm, Astra in blue in the other, and the purple-clad Lena struggling to climb up into her father's lap, the Marquis looked nearly comical as he tried juggling the toddlers.
"They are my children and I am not going to let some stranger take them from me only to mistreat them and play favorites," the Marquis grumbled. He gently uncovered himself, putting his daughters in the space where his wife would sit were she around for court. "Besides, you enjoy being with your papa, don't you starlet?"
"Yes!" Lena replied happily. She bounced up and down in place, a toothy grin on her face. "Papa's the best!"
"See? The Earlessa of Gallifrey agrees," her father deadpanned. "Now why would anyone want to disappoint the young Earlessa?"
"All I'm saying is that it will be easier when she comes of schooling age next year," the serdar said, trying to shrug it off. He watched as Astra curled up in the Marquis's side and hunkered down for a mid-morning nap, while Tara and Lena played with the stuffed dragon toy the former had brought along in her arms from the nursery. It was all heartwarming, yes, but it was also highly unconventional. "How can you be so sure that you both will take the separation well? You say you don't want a stranger taking her, but isn't that what will happen?"
"I have had her tutor chosen from before she showed in her mother's womb," the Marquis said, stroking Astra's hair. "He will treat her as his own and there is not a moment I shall worry about her. She will still make appearances in court, as her practical lessons began the day she was born."
"…but milord, you and Her Ladyship have produced daughters. I have no problem believing you will soon have a son with the rate you are going, but if you don't and these children are it, then that leaves the cadet branch to protest a female ruler when they have many males. Get the girls a governess, let them become proper ladies, and keep trying for a son." The serdar attempted to stand his ground as the Marquis shot him the glare he had perfected in widowhood and sorrow.
"I am sick of hearing about my father's cousins. The day I step down and Lena takes my place, the cadet branch officially becomes the twins and any other child, male or female, that my lady wife bears, locking those banished pretenders out for good." The Marquis straightened his back, which puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders. "They will no longer have any hope of claim to this seat. Wolves do not intimidate the owl, who in his wisdom learned how to confuse and hinder the pack's efforts from his vantage points in the air and trees. They are still birds of prey."
"As long as they are birds of prey and not merely cottonseed fluff with a beak and legs, as many see them otherwise." The serdar bowed and excused himself, leaving the Marquis's side as more people began to file in and court prepared for the day.
"Lena?" the Marquis growled, not taking his eyes off the retreating serdar. The little girl looked up at him.
"What, Papa?"
"You are a clever child; do not be intimidated by voles like him." He turned towards his eldest and gave her the barest smile, flicking her nose playfully with a fingertip. "You are a star in Papa's sky, but you are also an owlet in the nest. One day you will take flight and make dinner of his kind."
"I don't get it," she giggled. "You're silly, Papa."
The Marquis leaned down and kissed his daughter's crown; of course she didn't understand. It would be years before she would understand. When she did, however, he hoped to be around to watch as she brought down the opponents with wrath and glory.
Court was long that day, as well as boring. Most of the squabbles (and they were nothing more than that, to the Marquis's dismay) were petty arguments amongst some of the lesser lords and wealthy of the land. A light lunch had been served during the hearing of complaints, and once it was the time to adjourn for the day and head for tea, the Marquis felt half-starved.
"Alright, starlets, time to go to Mama and teatime," he announced softly as he stood. The girls had been napping in a pile under his cape, curled up together for the afternoon. They rubbed their eyes groggily as their father nudged them awake.
"Teatime?" Lena echoed. Her sisters babbled incoherently as they crawled over to the Marquis and were immediately picked up. Their sister, however, was not as pleased. "Carry me too."
"I'm sorry, starlet, but I only have two arms," he replied. It hurt to admit, and with each passing time he said it the pain only grew worse. "Your sisters don't walk very well yet, and that's why they are carried."
"…but your shoulders," she protested grumpily. "Papa… shoulders." Lena held her arms up and outwards, demanding to be placated.
After a moment's thought, the Marquis sat back down and jerked his head. "Climb on." It took no time at all before Lena scaled his back and fixed herself firmly on his shoulders, hugging his forehead for stability and her face resting in his pillow-like fluff of hair. He stood up and without a word proudly carried his sleepy, and admittedly cranky, children throughout the castle.
He could carry all three.
The sight, although expected as the natural progression of things, made the castle staff chuckle to themselves as the Marquis navigated the winding corridors in search of his wife. By the time he found the Marchioness, hunched over some farmland boundary maps in the study, the water for tea was nearly cold.
"…and what's this?" she asked, watching as the sight of her husband and daughters. He grinned at her in accomplishment, moving carefully as to not accidentally throw Lena as he bent down for a kiss.
"I beat the odds; I won against the two-arm conundrum," he beamed. The Marchioness stood and took the twins from the Marquis, freeing up his hands to pull their eldest from his shoulders. Still in napping mode, all three girls found the couch and piled on one another again. "Our owlets are now all able to be carried by their papa."
"Starlets, owlets… you have to be careful how many names you find for our daughters," she laughed. She saw her husband's face draw long and concerned, prompting her to gently wrap her arms around his waist. "What's wrong?" He returned the gesture at her shoulders, wrapping her protectively in a cocoon of arms and cape.
"Our children," he replied, voice low and gruff. "Our children are starlets, owlets, whatever I deem fit, even that means liege lady, most noble and potent princess, the land's highest authority after the king…"
"Someone insisted you try for a male heir again, didn't they?"
"Mice, the lot of them, not realizing the power our owlets shall have over them in merely two decades' time," he muttered. "I cannot outright sack a serdar for being impudent over such a matter, but I can make sure to condition our heir to take no prisoners and shred her enemies without the thought of mercy."
"Johan, you're overreacting again," the Marchioness sighed. "Lena's three."
"…and she's had enemies from the moment her birth was announced, and even more since I named her our heir no matter what the future holds," the Marquis said. He glanced over at his sleeping children and frowned. "They are our legacy, and they will not be denied any birthright simply because others would happily pass them over without a second thought. We shall teach them to be clever and strong, with Daniel pushing the limits of their intellect and wits. Our children will be great and powerful and nothing will stand in their way."
"Let's concentrate on getting them to schooling age first, then we can worry about how they will embarrass the lesser lords." She rubbed his back and tutted affectionately. "They are so lucky to have such a protective papa. I'm sure they will have no problem holding their own when the time comes."
"Hold their own and make us proud, bringing nothing but misfortune and destruction to their adversaries," he replied. Gently, he untangled himself from his wife and led her over to the empty space on the couch. The Marquis sat down and guided the Marchioness into his lap, wrapping his cape around them as they both leaned into a kiss. They then remained there, unmoving and languidly caressing, until their daughters woke and it was time to go down to dinner.
The next morning came and both Marquis and Marchioness prepared to attend court. There had been disputes from the previous day that had yet to be resolved, so they imagined that a showing from both of them would be enough to intimidate most dissenters into giving up their not-so-mighty causes and leave them alone. They readied their daughters, broke their fast, and made their grand appearance. The effort had been in vain, however, as the bickering continued and they were forced to mediate between grown adults whilst the children at their feet behaved impeccably.
It was nearly time to dismiss for luncheon when the serdar from the day before was announced as a complainant. He stepped forward, his head held high and his jaw grit in determination.
"What is the issue you bring forth to this court?" the Marquis asked. "This better be good, because I am hungry."
"I have a petition, milord, concerning your issue," the serdar replied. His liege lady remained stone-faced, while his lord's brow furrowed angrily.
"What about my issue?" he glowered. The serdar gulped as he took some parchment from his pocket and began to read from it.
"'It is the aim of this petition to protect the Marquis Johan Lonan's ability to govern and hold reign over his people by advising him to make permanent decisions regarding the inheritance of the marquisate in a premature manner'," he read. "'The people do not know the sole rule of a woman and it is unknown how they shall react when such a time comes and the Earlessa Lena Anthea of Kasterborous and Gallifrey inherits her father's seat no matter what gender her siblings may be'…"
"How dare you," the Marquis growled. His wife put a hand to his heaving chest, holding him in their chair while keeping her eyes on the serdar. He sat there, white-knuckling the armrest and curling his lip into a sneer.
"Are you a gods-fearing man, Lord Serdar?" the Marchioness asked plainly.
"Why, no I am not, Your Ladyship," he sputtered. "I only make this complaint with thoughts of your husband and daughters, not of my gain."
"…and I believe you on that account," she nodded. She picked up Lena, who was offering Mama a doll, and sat her in the bit of chair left between her and her husband. "However, I need to remind you of this: if you decide to object to your future liege lady's tenure again, I shall personally make sure that the King strips the serdarship from your family's lineage and no one will want your counsel ever again." She stroked Lena's braid and smiled, sweetly at her daughter and eerily at the serdar. "By the time I finish with you, it will be all you can do to pray to the gods and stars to turn back time and right your wrongdoing. The people have time to adjust to the thought of calling a woman their Doctor, and considering that is what they already refer to me as, I feel that they shall take the change of pace well."
"Y-Yes milady," the serdar said. He bowed shakily and recess was called. It was only after the governance hall emptied did the Marquis and Marchioness resume speaking freely.
"He should be glad that on-the-spot defenestration as punishment has long turned faux-pas," he sneered, glaring at the door. He picked up Lena and Tara, while his wife carried Astra, and they made their way to their chambers to take their lunch. "I will make him regret his repeated insolence."
"Behave, Johan," the Marchioness sighed. "Something tells me he is going to turn in his notice soon and begin searching for a new lord to counsel." She opened the door to their chambers and saw that the children's lunch was already there. Once the girls were fed and put down for a nap their lunch came, which was consumed in peace and quiet.
"I do have to say though," the Marquis mentioned as he dabbed at his whiskers with a napkin, "that you were excellent when dealing with that nimrod earlier."
"Was I now?" she asked as their plates and trays were cleared and they were left alone. "His advisor's title was given generations ago—he is one who is weak-willed and unable to put up a real fight." She placed her hand atop her husbands and gave him a glance soft and kind. He picked up her hand and kissed the palm.
"I am truly humbled to have such a force of nature at my side, a true paragon of a noble's might." His lips brushed against her wrist and her spine tingled. "Lay with me please, as we rest in preparation for the remainder of the day."
"It would be my honor," the Marchioness replied, bringing his face up so their lips could meet. They laid on the blankets, using his cape for warmth as they curled into one another, barely able to get a nap in before being attacked by their daughters' tackling kisses. When the family returned to finish off attending court, they found that the overly-insistent serdar was no longer in attendance. It was good riddance and easy going for the remainder of the day, few others wishing to ride on the ire the serdar had created. By the time court adjourned for good, not to start up again for the remainder of the week, the lord and lady of the land were confident they and their heir would not be contested for a long time to come.
A/N: Okay, so I should probably go into explanation mode when it comes to these things called noble rankings. Within the setting of the unnamed kingdom the nobility's hierarchy is a bit different than what is most often depicted in these sorts of things. Typical Anglo titles usually go King/Queen-Prince/ess-Duke/Duchess-Marquess/Marquis/Marchioness-Earl/Countess-Viscount/ess-Baron/ess-Baronet/ess. HOWEVER, I have decided to make things more complicated and not only bring in the title of Count (keeping it the same rank an Earl, which is what the title is equivalent to in real life (leaving the difference in-universe to be a matter of semantics), while making the feminine of Earl an Earlessa instead), but also importing the Ottoman rank of Serdar (and inventing the Serdaressa), derived from the Indo-Iranian Sirdar. Real life serdars were often military men, but in this story they have a sort of fluid rank level, operating as advisers to other lords and ladies and taking their prestige from who they [have] served. SASBB serdar/essas are created by the king just like a normal knighthood, except with more power, often hereditary, and can have their title revoked.