A/N: I just wanted a bunch of fluff with a baby. There's still some angst and implied things, but mostly fluff and some kissing.
Rough ages are as follows: Johan at 50, Clara at 31, and Lena as a newborn.
Chapter Forty: Tulips and Plumeria
It was two months after the birth of his heir and the Marquis woke to find his wife was not in bed alongside him. Although it was still the red of night, he could hear sweet cooing filtering in from the open nursery door, and investigating the source allowed him to find the Marchioness, tending to their daughter.
"Oh, you're up early," she observed once she saw him. He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin atop her head, while he too looked at Lena atop the changing table.
"I notice when you are not by my side," he mentioned. The infant stared up at them with her large, grey eyes so much like his own and waved around her arms, croaking indignantly. "Yes, starlet; I notice when you are not around either. Papa notices many things that you do not yet." He then paused, wrinkling his nose in thought. "Stars… is today court?"
"Yes, though we don't have much scheduled unless there are some last-minute additions."
"Then let us bring our daughter so that all of us may attend. One day it will be the three of us presiding, and the people need to be used to the idea."
"Johan, she cannot even sit up on her own yet," the Marchioness frowned. "It's my turn to stay with her—I don't mind."
"I understand your concern, but I do mind you staying behind," he replied. "Lena will know governance by instinct and see both her parents wield command side by side with little effort. She may end up commanding an impressive memory, which means that the sooner she can forge the memory."
"She will not remember being two months old."
"The youngest a Gallifreyan has been able to recall is six months—we do not know what abilities will manifest in her until they do so."
"Will all of our children be able to do something peculiar like that?" she wondered. "I don't need to be in the dark until a child I've borne starts levitating in front of Papa's wife."
"That is highly unlikely; the mental and physical capabilities necessary to levitate have not occurred in someone in over a thousand years," he chuckled, kissing the top of her head. He released her from his embrace and lifted their child into his arms. "My bet is that she will be like her papa, long-lived and mildly telepathic via touch, and I have little doubt she has my mother's skill for academics and learning, which is less a Gallifreyan trait and more a sign of brilliance."
The Marchioness giggled at that, following her husband as he carried their daughter into their bedchamber. A bright pink was beginning to smear across the horizon to signal the impending dawn. "And it has nothing to do with her mother?"
"Her mother is truly one of the most brilliant beings I have ever encountered, yet sometimes it takes both sides to ensure a trait has been passed along to further generations," the Marquis said solemnly. "You have the same fierceness Grandmamma Donata possessed from what I recall, and I am certain that the even-handed way in which you, your father, and I govern shall not vanish when the earth swallows our bodies." He sat down next to the window and glanced out at the early stages of the summer morn, as he often did while his wife tended to her appearance. "The only thing I can hope is that she sees whatever gifts have been passed down as blessings rather than curses, whether that be her natural capabilities or the title she shall one day wield."
"You worry too much," she sighed. The Marchioness went into her wardrobe in order to pick out a dress for the day. "Lena is still a babe at my breast; save your concern for suitors and her first mandates. She will ride into battle before you know it, whether the enemies are foreign troops wishing to invade the marquisate and kingdom or southern politicians ignoring her people's needs, and it is then that you will need your strength." Taking off her nightdress, she changed into a fresh dress of pale blue trimmed with crème, feeling the adoring gaze of her husband as he looked upon her body and its stubborn refusal to return to the precise size it was before. She met his eyes, giving him a knowing smile. "What?"
"Can a man not watch his wife anymore? Not only am I married to the most brilliant woman in the marquisate, but the most beautiful as well—let me take pride in that." He blushed as she walked over and sat upon his lap, placing one arm around her waist as he kept the other holding their child. "Please stay at my side today so that we may govern together, for I hold little love for a world without you."
"Stars forbid I visit my papa," she chuckled, kissing his forehead. When she went to look at him, she saw that his gaze was now off to the side, silent tears dripping down into his whiskers. "This isn't about me visiting Papa."
"If I taste the bitter sting of widowhood again, I am not sure what I shall do," he admitted. "Even if we are both white-haired and frail when it happens, with scores of children and grandchildren around for comfort and strength, the memory of you will hurt so much that I won't be able to breathe."
"Do not worry," she insisted. She cradled his head in her arms, bringing his so close that his whiskers tickled the very tops of her breasts. "I know mortality has been on your mind the past few months more than usual, but that is no reason to be morbid." His lips gently kissed her cold flesh and the corner of her mouth twitched up in a grin. "Are you sure you wish to get ready for the day? Lena is still sleepy and the dawn not yet upon us—we can find ways to celebrate life instead of fretting over death and uncertainties."
Tender kisses found her collarbone, throat, and eventually her chin, where their eyes met and she instantly saw the hunger in them underneath his lashes. "Let me put her down," he murmured. She stood and allowed him to return their daughter to the nursery, watching at the doorframe. The Marquis placed Lena gently in her cot, resting his hand on her head for a moment before turning towards the Marchioness and quickly eliminating the distance between them. He lifted her into the air and carried her towards the bed, starving for what they had gone without since the last of winter melted away and yielded to the spring. They were both eager to end their self-imposed fast, and amazed themselves when they were able to take the Marchioness's dress off her without so much as a popped seam.
By the time the servants knocked on the door to wake their liege lord and lady, the couple were already dressed and fully prepared for the day before them as though nothing exciting had happened at all.
Stifling a yawn, the Marchioness glanced out over the governance hall in innate boredom. She was exhausted in many ways, the most intense being from staying up with the baby now sitting in the Marquis's arms. She had already known that the court session was not going to be a very intriguing one—they rarely were—though it was her duty and responsibility to make sure that she at least did not yawn large and insult the speaker of the moment.
"Please: is there anything you wish to say concerning the proposal at-hand?" the Marquis asked dully. The man who had the floor was talking about all manner of things, using the discussion section of the proposal to go on several tangents at once.
"I swear, milord, that they are all interconnected," the man claimed. He paused for a moment, staring at the dais in front of him, genuine concern spread across his face. "Since we are on a sidebar, may I inquire something completely off-topic, milord?"
"You may."
"Are you and Her Ladyship interviewing candidates for nurse and governess and have yet to make a decision? I only ask out of curiosity and nothing else."
"I am glad for your concern," the Marchioness began, "but I can assure you that we are going to raise our heir so that she may learn governance at an early age. My lord husband and I have discussed this at length and we would rather have a twelve-year-old child who knows protocol for running her parents' estate than one who cannot tell if an advisor is steering them in the wrong direction. Stars in the sky forbid she ever has to take hold of the marquisate at twelve, but we do not know these things in advance."
"Then I hope I often see the Young Mistress Lena at your side in court for many years to come," he replied before turning back to his convoluted complaint. The Marchioness felt her husband's hand rest on hers, him gently easing into her mind.
'It will never stop,' he projected into her mind. 'Even once she is of-age, people will question why we do not use a governess for her.'
'When she becomes of-age, she will likely have younger siblings who have been raised exactly the same as her, and their lack of governess will also be questioned,' she replied. 'My mother raised me personally and I am all the better for it, and even Papa tended to me at a young age so that I may know how to govern in his stead—Lena being cared for away from us would only hurt her.'
'Remembering how much I missed my mother after she disappeared, I can agree,' he assured. It was then that Lena began to squirm anxiously, diverting her father's attention away. He passed her gently towards his wife, fingers brushing up against hers again to communicate silently. 'Our daughter is thinking of your breast; she is hungry.'
'At least she thinks out of need and not of want like her father,' she teased. 'Don't tell me you aren't counting down the days to when she can be weaned; you're a terrible liar.' The Marchioness then did what she had already done twice during court and fed her daughter under the cover of a blanket, no different than a couple of the women in the audience with their infant children.
She uncovered Lena when she was done, looking down into the girl's large, thankful, sleepy eyes. Her child's mind emitted a satisfied feeling before falling asleep, leaving her mother little to do but pay attention to court. The man from before had stepped down from the speaker's podium and a new, more on-topic, person was talking about a point concerning the livestock proposal absolutely made moot by research already explained. The Marchioness sighed quietly, so that only her husband could hear her exasperation, and settled in for the hour left until they recessed for lunch. He picked up her hand in solidarity, for the act of actually governing was one best done together.
Most of those attending court thanked the stars and gods that lunch recess finally came. The Marquis hesitated little when it came to escorting his wife and daughter out of the governance hall and towards their private wing. They ate quickly, though the Marchioness insisted that she stay behind when it was time to return to work.
"Feeding Lena is still tiresome," she explained. "Unless someone gives an extremely good reason as to why we cannot import western alpacas for any of their uses, let the proposal pass. If you need me, I will be with Lena."
"If it means that you will not be tired as much, you are correct in that I can barely wait until Lena is weaned," he chuckled. He kissed his wife at the door, lingering selfishly before leaving to resume court and allow his young family time away from the monotony of court life.
When mother and daughter entered their chambers, they were greeted by red and purple tulips, framed in their vases by sprigs of elderflowers. Their presence explained the note the Marquis had written in the middle of court to hand to a messenger, as now the paper's contents were clear. The Marchioness brought her daughter close to one of the vases, taking the infant's small hand and bringing it to a tulip petal.
"This is what happens when Papa is allowed any amount of flowers, no matter the season," she explained. "I used to only see these in the Spring, but now I even see these in the Autumn months. Do you know why?"
The baby gurgled in reply, something that made her mother chuckle. "…because this is our extravagance. We will raise you at our sides, which shall make us odd amongst our peers, yet we have guaranteed good food and clothes, blooms that are not in-season, and musicians arguably better than those who regularly play for His Majesty. This is how we enjoy our position in society, for there are many things about it that your father and I both despise."
Lena made a guttural noise and sneezed, prompting her mother to bring her away from the flowers, taking her to the nursery instead. White plumeria blossoms met them there, which amused the Marchioness greatly.
"These will smell much better at night when you are going to sleep," she told Lena. She brought the girl over to where a blanket was laid out on the rug and put her down, using her now-free hands to grab a stuffed toy and tap its nose with her daughter's. "One day you will understand why we do things the way we insist instead of the way others insist, but that is alright." Lena giggled, which was the most beautiful thing her mother had ever heard, causing tears to well in her eyes.
"That is why, and I hope it takes before you have a child of your own to understand."