A/N: So one of the prompts I've gotten recently involved this verse and the Marquis and/or Lena actually attending a debutante ball. Little did the prompter know that I had this in the works the entire time, meaning their prompt sitting in my inbox only made me want to finish this off.

The following chapter takes place when Johan is 70, Clara is 51, Lena is 20, and Astra is 18. The other kids are being babysat, except for Tara, who is off cutting bitches on the borders.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Balls, Beaus, and the Bull's Unmentionables

There was a general atmosphere of grace and excitement in the air as the Marquis and Marchioness rode with Lena and Astra towards the king's castle in the capital. Presentations were that afternoon, as well as the first debutante ball of the social season, meaning that traffic was horrendous as not only there were more people attempting to head to the castle at the same time, but there were commoners wandering about attempting to catch glimpses of noble men and women alike.

"I'm so glad that I just had to show up at the King's court at my leisure for a formal creation, not any of this," Lena sighed dully. She stared out the window at the smallfolk who were attempting to see into the carriages and attempted to not grimace. "It's like they've never seen nobility before—we're here all the time and they never give a second thought then."

"Yes, but there is a long tradition of powerful unions, and even dynasties, being founded at the National Ball, and you'd be surprised how the average man uses it to their advantage," the Marchioness explained. "In fact, I do believe that there is a woman in Blackpoole who became interestingly wealthy through the betting halls by saying I would not become engaged, nor wed, because of, or during, the Season."

"Blackpudlians are an interesting bunch," the Marquis said idly. He too was looking out the window, fiddling with the end of his whiskers as he did so. "I'm just incredibly glad that not only is Tara very far away from here, but we only have to go through this once more—too much pomp and circumstance for my liking."

"Too much pomp and circumstance involving your daughter being officially brought into the social world and before the eyes of young men, you mean," his wife clarified. He bristled, knowing full-well she was correct.

"None of my daughters are cuts of meat, needing to be brought before customers to entice the highest bidder," he groused. "The entire thing is absurd; Tara's refusal of court life and a society marriage works in our favor, as much as people believe otherwise. I'd almost rather all my children have common marriages and risk losing inheritances and ending the line instead of this degrading spectacle."

"The way I understand it, Papa, is that the National Ball is supposed to be more of a social mixer for the expanding families of the kingdom, not a livestock auction," Astra mentioned in an attempt to diffuse her father's ire. "It's just how people from all over the kingdom form and keep friendships without needing to travel far from their own duties too often." She fiddled with the bracelet around her wrist in an attempt to not fidget. "I might meet someone here I'd like to court, I might not; I don't need to end the night on the arm of a man. At least I'm sure I'll make friends amongst the other young ladies."

"…and friends in the higher classes are something we are in desperate need of if we want to survive," Lena scoffed. "The night will be complete if I can forge a friendly alliance yet still scare some Adiposian slime off my sister."

"I wonder if Sterling and Seren could be presented, since they're technically what people refer to as 'lesser sons' in our family," Astra mused. "I know there isn't a ball for young men to debut, since so few women inherit to make it worth the while, but could you imagine?"

"Well, there are plenty of serdaressas who inherit their father's title, or their position is matriarchal, but you're right in that they wouldn't bother despite the hilarity," Lena added with a chuckle. "Could you imagine Sterling being shown off at court? He'd die as soon as he made eye contact with an heiress whose name didn't rhyme with Gloriana Wink."

"Lena, stop teasing your brother behind his back," the Marchioness scolded.

"What? Would you rather me tease him to his face?"

"I'd rather you not tease him period," she elaborated. The carriage stopped, having arrived at their destination. "The poor boy is going to have a difficult enough time as it is trying to get over his puppy love, and it won't help him to have you hounding him the entire time."

"Heh… hounding him for puppy love…" Lena chortled. Her mother kicked her shin just before the door opened, silencing her for the time being.

The Marquis exited the carriage first, helping his wife and daughters out of the carriage due to the fanciness of their dresses. While Lena and the Marchioness were in dresses of azure and crimson respectively, Astra was in a simple gown of shimmering gold. First-year debutantes were required to wear the color, with older ball-goers being relegated silver and the remaining women in a dress of their own choosing. Astra took her mother's arm, whilst Lena took their father's, and the four made their way into the castle.

Before long, the Marchioness and Astra were shunted off into a separate corridor to await their announcement. Lena and the Marquis went straight to the ballroom, taking delight in the fact that the punch was spiked so early in the afternoon. Eventually the King's crier began to announce the names of the debutantes and their lady-sponsors, with the Marchioness and Astra being towards the midway point of the group. The two bowed before the King and were waved off, after which they immediately gravitated towards the punch.

"Is it decent?" the Marchioness scowled. Her husband handed her a cup with a smirk on his face.

"Just how you like it, my dear," he said. She knocked it back and took another, apparently needing the beverage's extra ingredient. Once that was half-gone, she turned back to their younger daughter and narrowed her eyes.

"Astra Maylis, don't you ever correct someone as high up as His Highness's crier again while I am on this side of the earth, do you hear me?!" she hissed.

"Mama, my name is May-lees, not May-liss," Astra defended. "Besides, I think the King got a good chuckle out of seeing that pompous little windbag ruffled."

"…and this is the sensible one of our twins," the Marchioness growled. She slammed down the remainder of her drink and put her glass down on the table. "I'm going to go over there, where I see some old acquaintances, and hope that the food better be served quickly, because we're going to be in trouble if it's not."

"Have fun, Mama," Lena grinned. She glanced back at her father and exhaled heavily as she saw the withdrawn expression on his face. "What's the matter, Papa? Do I need to figure out where His Highness is hiding the brandy?"

"No, I just… don't do well in these situations," he muttered. "Thank you for coming, starlet; I need to be able to search for more than just your mama in the crowd." He then turned towards Astra, raising an eyebrow. "Did you really correct the crier?"

"I did, and I'll do it again if I have to," she replied firmly. "If every single professor at His Highness's University can pronounce it correctly the first time—lowborn, noble, and middling alike—then that self-important imp can stand to take some lessons." She graciously took a glass of not-spiked punch from a servant and sipped at it tentatively, scanning the crowd. "Oh hey, Lena, you see that one over there?"

"Oooh, where are we talking about?" the elder sister asked excitedly. They leaned in close together, whispering quietly in the ceremonial tongue.

"What's going on?" the Marquis wondered. He tried to look in the direction they were, yet saw nothing of interest. "What are you looking at?"

"It's not your daughters that are the cows and cuts of meat being brought before the highest bidder, Papa," Lena smirked. She paused, waiting for his brow to puzzle as he tried to figure out her words. "There is a fine offer over there talking with the Duke of Gelth. If that's his son, then forget anything negative ever said about a Gelthi; I could stand being courted by that."

The Marquis found the duke and his heart sank. That was his son he was talking to, and his daughters were staring at the young man almost dreamily, inspecting his features from afar. Not wanting any part of it, the Marquis left in order to sulk against a wall in protest. The fact more fathers did not protest the Season and all that it entailed was something he found incredibly difficult to believe.

The remainder of the afternoon passed in a less-than-spectacular fashion. It was lavish, that was true, but to the Kasterborsian-Gallifreyan contingent it was merely a bunch of empty show and nothing more. Things did not begin to grow interesting until after dinner had been served and cleared, when it was time for dancing and gossiping.

"Come on, Lena—let's go over there," Astra suggested, motioning towards a group of first-year debutants. Their father approached them from behind, placing a hand on each daughter's shoulder, stopping them in their tracks.

"Be careful, starlets," he warned. "I don't want to embarrass you two and come to the rescue."

"Our rescue or someone else's?" Lena snarked. Her father frowned and allowed his daughters to go free, sighing sadly as he watched them go off.

"They're growing up fast," he said to no one in particular. The Marchioness came up to him and hooked their arms together.

"We need to let them go eventually," she reminded him. "It's how we acquire grandstarlets and the line continues on for at least one more generation."

"I know, I know… it's just… I hope they remember that a moon may wax and wane, but stars shine forever."

"You idiot," she chuckled, patting his arm. "How about you take your moon for a dance?"

"Light the way," he nodded.

They held hands and went to the dance floor and began to twirl around the polished stone. Staring into one another's eyes, they tried to focus on only the two of them. The orchestra changed songs and they continued dancing. It was difficult to manage, but they were able to not duck out and check on where Lena and Astra wandered off towards.

"I wonder how it would have been had we met during the Season," the Marquis mused. He gazed down at his wife, greedily taking in all her splendor and grace. "Things would have been very different then."

"That is an understatement," she smirked. "Neither of us would have wanted to be there, and we probably would have caught one another attempting to sneak out early."

"The price for keeping quiet being dinner the following night…"

"…or simply you keep quiet and Blackpoole would not embargo anything Kasterborsian in make or origin as long as I lived."

"Milady drives a hard bargain." The couple both giggled at that, knowing how silly they were being. Soon as the song ended they left the dance floor, finding themselves near their daughters quite on accident. The group of young people were all talking loudly in order to be heard over the orchestra, drinks in their hands and some clearly having more fun than others.

"So tell me, Lady Tara, are you choosing to be formally presented next year? The fact you are not also in gold interests me," the Marquis and Marchioness heard a young man wonder. They gave one another wide-eyed stares and held in their laughter as they crept into the shadows, knowing what was coming.

"I did not need to be presented, for one, and for two, I am not Lady Tara," Lena replied icily. "I am Lady Lena Anthea, Earlessa of Gallifrey and Heir to the governance chair of Kasterborous. Then again, we wouldn't have met before this, being that you are only a lesser son, correct?"

"I…uh…"

"Plus, also assuming that all highborn daughters need to be presented is a folly our sister loves to smash into bits," Astra added. "My twin prefers the sword to the soiree and therefore is doing what she loves best: slicing the throats of Ogronish scouts before they have the chance to report back to their Daleki masters."

"Ugh, that sounds vile," someone else responded, this voice female. "War is such a nasty business—whatever prompted her to choose such a life is beyond my comprehension."

"Our baby sister was born; it really is an interesting story," Lena said. "I've seen action since then, but that was a battle I will never forget."

"A delicate rose like you, in battle?" another man scoffed. "I cannot see you crossing blows with an enemy soldier."

"Roses are delicate, yes, but a thistle can be just as lovely to look upon, and even more aggressive in protecting itself and others around her."

"Now that is something in which we disagree," the first young man said. "Thistles are choking the crops in my father's lands, not to mention the legs of livestock that are sliced near to ribbons because of them."

"Our farms and grazing stock don't seem to have those problems—maybe it's a northern blessing," Lena quipped.

"It's merely the price we pay for allowing our dearest Tara to go to war," Astra sighed wistfully, all the emotion in her voice thick and syrupy and false. "I'd rather it be the blood of a Sontarian staining the night sky than that of a wee lamb."

That was the final straw and the young men they were talking to found reason to leave, and the other golden-clad debutante was dragged off by a friend, leaving the sisters to stand together in peace.

"We know you're there," Lena deadpanned, casually taking a sip of her drink. "Papa, Mama, you have been about as subtle as Seren the entire night."

"We haven't been that bad," the Marchioness pouted as they emerged from their hiding place.

"How could we resist hearing the two of you tear apart those that assume?" the Marquis grinned. "That was marvelous; we really have to put you girls in social situations more often."

"Papa, it's bad enough I had to reschedule an exam to attend this… don't make things worse by telling me I need to attend more of them," Astra muttered.

"Maybe Maglina's ball as reinforcements, if we all make it that far," the Marchioness said. "Would you like to head back to the house?"

"Please; I still have to study," Astra replied.

"I'd rather attend Maggie's ball and watch Sterling trip over himself to please Ori," Lena added. "At least that will be fun to watch—everyone here is a total bore."

"You don't mean that," the Marchioness warned. "Why, your future husband could be out in this crowd."

"None of these men have the bollocks to even think about achieving the standard I want in a potential consort. The whole lot is merely the same bullshit in different wrappings and that doesn't impress me."

While Astra and the Marquis giggled indiscreetly, the Marchioness grew furiously red in the face and dragged her eldest daughter from the ballroom by the elbow, though sorely tempted to do so by her ear, and the family left before another foul word could be said. Lena was always known for her frankness, even if it made her crude, yet that outburst definitely took the cake.