A/N: The following chapter is pretty much to express the aftereffects of chapter six, because reasons. The theme of soldiers kept on popping up in s8 and the way it was treated has stuck in my mind in a good way.
Rough ages are as follows: Johan at 58, Daniel at 41, Clara at 39, Lena at 8, Astra and Tara at 6, Sterling at 2, and Oriana and Maglina are newborns.
Chapter Twenty: Lena (II)
There was blood everywhere, the only splashes of color in the world of grey. Lena ran through the camp, dodging soldiers and swords and blasters, crying the entire way. A Kasterborsian soldier's body fell on top of her, pushing her down into the mud. She struggled to push the dead weight off until finally she was free. Crawling away, she hid between two tents until she could run again—she had to get to Mama.
There it was: the medical tent. It nearly shone as a safe haven in the death and bloodshed. She dashed towards the tent, hoping to find her mother there, a baby in her arms, protected by Lady Martha and other soldiers. Everything was going to be fine, she knew it.
Except, when Lena entered the tent, all she saw was the same sort of scene that was outside. The sound of the battle muffled as the door flap closed behind her and she tiptoed through the mess. Overturned tables, dead and dying soldiers—it was more terrible things to shrink back from. She stood there, frozen, not knowing what to do.
That was when she heard it—a baby crying. Lena looked in the corner of the tent and saw her mother and Lady Martha laying still on the ground, the latter on her back with her eyes wide open and the former curled around something. The girl cautiously approached and saw her baby sister wriggling and protesting in their mother's unmoving arms, already swaddled in a warm blanket splattered in mud.
"Maglina…!" Lena gasped, diving in for her sister. She picked the baby up and bounced her gently in an effort to calm her. There was a basket nearby, which gave her an idea. She lined it with towels and placed the newborn inside, keeping her contained and safe while she looked for something to feed her. The best thing that was there was some water, and Lena knew babies needed milk. Sterling had needed lots of milk all the time—she was going to have to go to the mess tent.
Just as Lena was about to drag her sister out into the fray, a Sontarian soldier stepped into the tent. The little girl stepped in front of the basket and unsheathed the knife at her waist, holding it in front of her with both hands.
"No closer!" she ordered. The Sontarian did stop walking, but instead raised his phaser rifle and…
Lena gasped as she woke up, clutching her stuffed lion tightly in her arms. Maglina was whimpering in her cot over on the other side of the room, making just enough noise to wake her eldest sister. Astra, Tara, and Sterling seemed to be fast asleep in their beds, so Lena went over to the cot and bent over it, gently picking the baby up.
Carefully, the girl padded over to the door to her parents' bedchamber and opened it, slipping inside with ease. The Marquis and Marchioness were laying tangled in one another's limbs, sleeping soundly. Lena tapped her mother's arm, waking her up.
"Oh, there you are, Lena," she muttered groggily, freeing her limbs from her husband. "What's the matter?"
The girl held up her sister, the babe still wriggling.
"Do you think she's hungry?" the Marchioness asked. Her eldest nodded in reply. "Okay, let's go feed her." She got out of bed and shuffled over to the settee, where she sat down before allowing Lena to pass her the baby. "Do you want to stay?"
Silently, Lena crawled up onto the cushion and watched her baby sister feed. The Marchioness kept one arm holding up her youngest, while the other stayed around her eldest as long as she could spare. There had been a distinct change in Lena's behavior since they had returned from the front two months prior, which admittedly worried the mother.
"Did you have another bad dream?" she wondered. The girl nodded. "Was it… about the front?"
"Yeah," Lena squeaked, the only word she'd said since getting up. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she remembered the nightmare. "I'm scared, Mama."
"We all get scared; it will pass," the Marchioness explained. Soon as she burped Maglina, the infant fell asleep in her arms, belly full and content. "Let's put you two back in the nursery, yeah? Get some more rest while the sky is red."
"Okay…"
Lena made sure to hold open the door for her mother, staring as she put Maglina down in her cot. Then the Marchioness made sure Lena crawled back up into her bed, tucking her in and giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead for comfort.
"The Sontarians can't get you here, sweetie," she said. The Marchioness smoothed out her daughter's hair and hushed her sniffling. "There are literally thousands of soldiers between Gallifrey and every front Kasterborous is sworn to defend; you are safe." She stayed by Lena's side as she fell asleep, only then returning to her own bed. Wrapping her arms around her husband, she fretted into the remainder of the night, hoping that what happened wasn't permanent.
"Clara, are you well?" the Marquis asked. The door behind their eldest three and their tutor had already closed and it was the two of them for breakfast, him with Sterling in his lap and her with Maglina in an arm. The Marchioness exhaled heavily and took a sip of her tea.
"I'm worried, Johan," she said. "Lena is saying less and less with each passing day."
"Yes, I've noticed," he replied. "The first battle isn't easy—even you weren't fully yourself again for a while."
"I saw my first battle at twenty-six… Lena is eight," she reminded him. "She brought me Maglina last night for feeding and she said five words the entire time. Not five words over and over, but five. Period. Something's wrong."
"Yes, but something should always be wrong after someone's first battle, no matter the age," he said. He saw his son was attempting to test the limits of his nostril with a peeled apple slice and wrenched it away from the boy, placing it on a far plate. "Our daughters are tough and resilient; Lena will be fine, but you must give her time to come to grips with the reality of things."
"That her mother, sister, and an aunt-figure all nearly died in front of her?!" she snapped.
"No: that violence can always happen, no matter how safe we feel!" The Marquis noticed that Sterling had begun to whimper and he lowered his voice, bouncing his knee to soothe the boy. "I'm sorry, but she's been raised knowing that she will have to go to war, and that people will die whether she wills it or not. It's not the world I want to give our children, but it is the only world we have to give. She will understand soon enough."
"I want you to be correct, Johan, but I'm her mother and I don't think she's going to wake up one morning free from this curse. There are adults with battle sickness that never recover… your own great-grandfather suffered his entire life," she said. "Now, what do we do?"
"I… don't know…"
"There has to be something…"
"I will think about it, as I'm sure you shall as well, and between us we should come up with something," he assured her.
"We better, or poor Astra might have to start thinking about putting aside her numbers for governance," she frowned, "because I don't see Lena being fit to take our place if this sort of thing continues. Battle sickness doesn't make someone less a person, but they are more suited to clerical work and not leading an army and dealing with disgruntled marchers. It's why the Ninth Marquis did not last for very long in his position."
"I know my family history, and don't think I'm ignoring this, but she needs more time to come to terms with this on her own. If she doesn't, then we step in, and whatever ends up happening, she will be stronger for it." He stroked Sterling's hair and bent down to talk to the boy. "Can you promise us something, starlet?"
"Promise, Papa," the boy said.
"Can you promise us to protect your sisters, like they will protect you, and be a source of strength for them even when Mama and Papa are gone?"
"Johan…"
"Your sisters are strong, but they will bottle it up inside because it is who they are; if they bottle too much, they will break. Please make sure they don't break."
"Papa, apple, please," Sterling requested, pointing towards the apple slice that had been taken away from his nostril. His father pulled back his hand and placed it at his side.
"I'm going to take that as a yes," he sulked.
It was after lunch and the Marchioness was bringing Lena, Astra, and Tara back to the schoolroom, having left Sterling and Maglina in the charge of her husband. The tutor was not there when she arrived, so she sat and waited for him to return, his own daughter hooked in an arm.
"It's a surprise to see you here, Clara," he beamed, setting Oriana down in her playpen in the corner. He could see his charges' mother was being shown all manner of projects that had had been done over the past week, and it was amusing. "I've got the girls now, so you can go back to your study if you need to."
"Actually, I wanted to talk with you for just a moment before you begin for the afternoon," she replied. After making sure the students were reading their next lessons, they went out into the corridor. "I need to know: how is Lena doing in her studies since coming back from the front?"
"She still does exceptionally well—her work in the classroom has not suffered—but…"
"…but…?" The Marchioness raised an eyebrow.
"…but she's become incredibly withdrawn. I had been hoping you and Johan were taking care of it, though the fact we're even having this conversation makes me think otherwise."
"Johan and I both know she will pull through it, but he insists on waiting before intervening to any large degree," she said. "I think, however, if she would have come out of it naturally, she would have done so already. Can you talk with her? I don't know what exactly to say…"
"Don't worry," the tutor said. He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her brow. "I'll talk with Lena; she will know that she's not alone."
"Thank you," the Marchioness nodded gratefully. She then left, making her way back towards her husband and younger children, leaving the tutor to his job.
It took until it was time to bring the girls out to play before the tutor decided to take any action. He watched carefully until it seemed appropriate, and sat down on one of the stone garden benches.
"Lena? Can I talk with you, please?" he called out. All three sisters approached him, however. "Tara, Astra, I wanted to talk with Lena alone."
"Why? Is she in trouble?" Tara wondered.
"No, but…" he trailed off, trying to figure out something for the twins to do. "How about if you and Astra take Oriana over to the fountain to play with the water? I'll be right here if anything bad happens." That was good; the fountain was in the courtyard and easily in his line of vision. Astra plucked Oriana from her basket and she and Tara led the baby over the grass, each clutching one of her hands. When they were out of earshot, the tutor turned towards Lena. "Do you know why I've sat you down?"
She shook her head.
"We're talking because of that," he pointed out. "You've been quiet lately, Lena, and I've noticed you're getting a bit timid. "Is there something you want to talk about? Something that maybe your parents might not understand?"
"No…" Lena drew up her knees and hugged them—a clear lie.
"You're not doing poorly in class, but I can tell that something is on your mind. It's been there since you and your mum came back home with Maglina; does it have something to do with that?"
"I…" she squeaked, "I've been having a bad dream."
"Have you told your parents?"
"No; it would make them cry and they're worried already."
"What are they worried about?" he wondered.
"Normal stuff," she said. "Taxes and soldiers and laws and pudding brains."
"Maybe if you tell me what your nightmare is about, I might be able to help," the tutor offered. "I'm not your dad, but I am a dad, and I've known you since you were a baby." He leaned forward in an attempt to see her face, as she had turned her gaze to the ground.
"Promise you won't tell?"
"Promise."
Lena paused before wiping her nose, sniffling as her eyes began to water. "I keep on dreaming that we died."
Now that's the sort of thing the tutor was looking for. "That who died?"
"Lady Martha, Mama, Maglina, and me," she clarified. "I dream that I'm at the front again, and I have to find Mama and Lady Martha, but they die before I find them, and right when I go to take Maglina to find the mess tent for some milk…"
"You don't have to say any more," he cut in. He carefully put an arm around her shoulders, allowing her to lean into him for support. "You're going through something that many soldiers go through: it's called 'battle sickness', and it affects many, many people who see fighting."
"…but, I'm not a soldier. I'm just a kid."
"Yes, you are a kid, but that doesn't mean that you're always safe," he said. "You are lucky to have survived that battle—you all were—but that doesn't mean you came out of it unhurt. Bad people don't care who they have to hurt to do their job, and that's the worst part."
"That doesn't make me feel any better, Sir Daniel," she replied. "I'm really scared."
"I'd be more worried about you if you weren't scared," he admitted. "Being scared means that you know what's at stake, you know how bad things can become, and it's much better to be afraid and live than to be stupid and die."
"…but Mama and Papa say we always have to be brave!" the girl protested.
"Don't mix up bravery and stupidity, Lena," the tutor said firmly. "Bravery involves being scared but doing the right thing anyhow, while stupidity… it doesn't matter how well someone does, because it is always a stupid thing to go into a military operation without even the tiniest bit of fear. It's what sets us apart from the Cyberans and Daleki and Sontarians and anyone else who might want to hurt Kasterborous and Gallifrey; they don't fear and are overconfident. We fear, and because of this, even when we are confident, we are cautious. Does this make sense?"
"Yeah, a little bit," she muttered. "The Sontarians were still wrong."
"That's true—children shouldn't be a target," he agreed. "I nearly lost four of my favorite ladies that day, but I didn't, because they were scared and brave and didn't let anyone through that tent flap." He hugged his charge a bit tighter and patted her shoulder. "I think I have a project for you."
"What's that?"
"Every time you have this dream," he said, "I want you to write it down. Even if it's the red of night, you need to write down what you saw and how you felt. When you're done with that, write down something good from the dream. It could be it could be that you still had your sister, or that you were able to sneak past a guard undetected. If every time you find something new that's good, eventually the dream will stop being so scary because of all the positive stuff in it."
"Will that work?" she asked.
"It did for me," he told her. "I want you to share the papers with me, okay? If this doesn't work for you, we can find something else. Lady Martha has seen plenty of soldiers with battle sickness and she might have ideas. Don't be afraid to talk about it."
"Thank you, Sir Daniel," Lena said quietly. "Can we go back inside now?"
"I think so."
The very next day, Lena placed a few sheets of paper on her tutor's desk, covered with her child's hand. He read it while the girls were reading, smiling when he got to the last sentence.
"A good thing that happened is I lived," it read, and he was proud.
The papers kept on coming, nearly every day for a couple weeks. It was nearly at a month when there was two days in a row without a paper. By the time the trees changed colors, the papers had almost stopped entirely, the side-effect being that Lena was smiling and giggling and talking as she had before. When the Violet Sky came, she claimed to have not had the nightmare in ages.
The tutor knew that children were resilient, but to come back from something like that in such a sort amount of time only made him swell in pride at his eldest pupil. She was going to become an understanding ruler one day, and any enemy soldier had better watch their backs or she would smite them down in an instant because she knew the trouble she was in, the trouble they were all in. Lessons weren't always fun or in the classroom, and learning to deal with and work around them was going to be an essential skill to have.
There was nothing that would stand in her way now. He could feel it.