A/N: The following is going to be a purely Lena-centric chapter, because plot. Marquis and Marchioness stuff should come soon.

Lena is 25 in this particular chapter, her acquaintance Alfred (from chapter thirteen) is ~35 and a new character(!) is 22. There is also a note at the end about said new character.

Chapter Forty-One: The Job Offer

Lady Marchioness Lena Anthea of Kasterborous and Gallifrey hoisted herself up into her saddle, trying not to glare at her fellow hunters. She knew full-well that the invitation she had been sent to the early autumn hunting party was one that had been made in jest; however, had she declined she knew that there could have been unwelcome repercussions concerning the amount of trade done between Gallifrey and Malebolgia. It was one of the few treaties made by the Eighth Doctor during his short time at the helm of the marquisate, and she was not going to let it crumble to ashes at the expense of her pride. A familiar face made his horse walk up next to her, causing her to roll her eyes in apathy.

"What do you want, Baron Chatham?" she grumbled. Alfred snickered in reply.

"I'm on your side, so the least you can do is call me by my first name," he said. "You don't look pleased—do they have hunting parties in Kasterborous, or was your father simply not fond of them?"

"My father always found better use for his time, as do I," Lena deadpanned. "You know me and how much I love these pissing contests."

"It could be worse: you could be stuck inside with the wives, and I know how much you love them," Alfred teased. Lena scrunched her nose, for it was true that she'd rather be out there than in the house. On a hunt she could conveniently lose the trail, or simply not talk to anyone due to the chase, but inside the castle there were only so many places she could go and so few personalities worth communicating with—over half of them being on staff and therefore too terrified to look her in the eyes—meaning she would rather risk the hunt.

Eventually the horn sounded and the hounds began barking wildly as the hunt began. The hunters sped off, dogs at their horses' hooves, and Lena at least took solace in the ride. She tried to ignore the other participants, the sounds of their rifles and the dogs taking down crippled deer making her intensely uncomfortable. At one point, she nearly thought she heard the sound of a Cyberan, but it was only a lesser lord clumsily falling from his mount.

As the hunt slowed, Lena went and pulled to the side, watching the remainder of the participants ride off. A few dead sambur deer lay motionless nearby, making her slightly nauseous as she caught a faint whiff of seared fur and flesh from the phaser wounds. It was then that Alfred approached her again, his face nearly smug in his amusement.

"Are you sure this isn't your cup of tea?" he asked. "You ride better than most of the people here, nearly like you were a cavalrywoman's daughter born in the saddle."

"I'm sure," she said. She backed up her horse so that the cart carrying the day's kill could pass and pick up the nearby deer. An auburn-haired man with broad shoulders and the build of a mountain-mover, who had been walking his own horse next to the cart, stopped along with it and secured the reins to a low tree branch; he caught her attention due to his fine clothes, being far too well-dressed to be a servant.

"Who is that?" she wondered, keeping her voice low and leaning slightly towards the baron. "That doesn't look like a member of the earl's staff and I don't think I caught sight of him earlier." Alfred quirked an eyebrow.

"Him? I wouldn't really bother," he said. "He's actually Baronet Althos's youngest boy, though you wouldn't be able to tell by looking at him. His father and neither of his brothers could come so they sent him instead; a poor shot and an even worse rider, so he volunteered for cleanup before you even arrived yesterday. How the Earl of Malebolgia doesn't consider that a slight is beyond me."

"Well at least they sent someone, and one who knows his limits," she replied. She carefully tried to watch him without watching, observing as he slung the sambur deer carcass into the back of the cart with ease. "He is strong, isn't he?"

"They brag about fighting bears in Althos since the southern mountains are full of them," Alfred scoffed. "Though looking at that display, I think he'd have a good chance of fighting one in a carnival show."

"Aren't you the epitome of politeness?" Lena frowned. She urged her horse forward and had it stop alongside the man as he continued loading the cart. "Hello there." The man looked up and smiled broadly, only half out of exhaustion.

"Oh, hello there Lady Kasterborous," he said. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"You know who I am? Aren't you sharp," she smirked.

"Not at all," he replied. "You're the only woman here; all the others are back at the house having a garden party or something like that. They're all wives and you've never been one for wifely things."

"…and how would you know that?"

"My brothers have been at your mercy before," he said simply as he threw the last deer carcass into the cart. "One is older than you by some years and one is of your age… though the way they talk make it sound like you're some sort of frigid witch out of a dark faerie story."

Lena watched him closely as he bent down to pet one of the hunting dogs, the animal having come up and started jumping around him in the meantime. Despite his overly-large size and the heavy-handed way he had been handling the game only moments before, he seemed very careful and gentle with the dog.

"What am I?" she asked abruptly.

He looked up. "Pardon?"

"If I'm not a frigid faerie witch, then what am I?" she repeated. "You made it sound like you don't believe your brothers' stories."

"You're a woman," he said. "Your father chose you to rule, and that's why you're here. That makes you one of the most honest people in this party." He sniffled and wiped his nose along his forearm, mud from his coat dirtying his beard. "Do we even want to count how many are here because their elder siblings were all girls, or interesting accidents happened over the years? You are the eldest, yeah? I hope for your sake none of your siblings thirst for power."

"Luckily, mine know that if they want power, all they need to do is ask," Lena said. "What about you? I was told you're the youngest son. Do they often make you do grunt work?"

"We wrestle bears in the Althosian Mountains," he grinned. "I like the work… and it will probably be my livelihood one day."

"That's… it doesn't have to be."

"Of course it does. You said it yourself: I'm the youngest son. It's times like these, sleeping in grand houses and talking to fine ladies, that I have to take advantage of now, because they won't always be there for me." He untied his stock horse and hoisted himself up. In the saddle he was even taller than before, ultimately towering over her even though they were sitting on horses of the nearly same height. He held out a large, meaty hand towards her. "My name is Grant, milady."

"…and I insist you call me Lena," she said, taking his hand and shaking it. His grip was strong and completely enveloped her own, yet did not threaten to crush her in any way. "You'll have to tell me more about your Althos and the bears there—I only have foreign hostiles to wrestle with."

"Then write down your war stories because I generally enjoy something in return," he said. With that he began to ride towards the castle alongside the cart, unaware that Lena was watching him. She felt something twist deep in her gut, foreign and odd, and she knit her brow in confusion.

"I never took you for one who pursued mediocrity," Alfred teased, urging his horse up next to Lena.

"A baronet's son isn't exactly smallfolk, and pursuing a friendly ear should be on everyone's priority list when far away from home," she replied sourly.

"You have your lord father's complexion; you're blushing."

"Sod off."

Alfred simply rode away in amusement; knowing it was better than egging her on further.

After a long bath and squeezing into a corset that was unexpectedly tight, Lena made her way back towards the party. The earl's estates were not only expansive in landholdings, but the mansion in which he and his family lived was large enough to accommodate the multitude of guests that were milling about, which made things excellent for her admittedly selfish purpose of avoiding others. With everyone already talking with their preferred company, it made it so that she could covertly wander about with a drink until she encountered the also-cleaned-up Grant. Being that he was one of the tallest people in the room, it was easy to spot him in the crowd.

"Ah, fancy meeting you here," she said, suppressing a grin as she approached. Thank the stars he was alone.

"You sound almost excited to see me."

"Friendly company is always exciting when you're invited to social events out of pity and mockery."

"I wouldn't say that," he replied. He took a drink from a passing footman and gave the man a nod before turning back to Lena. "If I hear correctly, then I'd say out of fear." She nearly choked on her own drink, laughing at his flat delivery.

"Fear would be better," she said once she cleared her throat. "It would make going about certain negotiations easier, knowing what I'm dealing with. That's a simpler emotion to control in most situations I find myself in anyhow."

"And here I thought you were the sort of person to love a challenge."

"Selectively; I was taught to choose wisely." Lena caught sight of an open settee next to a window and jumped on the opportunity. "Would you like it sit? I'm sure that even if you wrestle bears, the work you were doing earlier was tiring."

"Yes, please," Grant replied. They sat down, turned so that they could both face one another and glance out the window at the same time. "You know, everybody from Althos jokes about bear wrestling, but it is actually something we take great pride in. It's the local sport, and I am honestly good at it."

"That seems like an odd thing to have as sport," she wondered. "Is there a cultural significance?"

"Yes: back when the mountains were being settled, the place was crawling with bears that attacked people more frequently than elsewhere in the kingdom. The larger, stronger men ended up fighting them and when we finally made our niche in the land and the bears got used to us, we kept it up as a tradition to remind us of those days." He took a drink of his wine and shrugged. "A man that can properly wrestle a bear can make a name for himself in Althos—a name for his family—so I'm not too worried for my future."

Lena thought about this for a moment and raised an eyebrow contemplatively. "Is that what you really want?"

"It's what I can achieve with what I've been given," he said. "My eldest brother gets our father's title, my other brother has a position within his court, and I'm to scrap about for what I can. That's a common thing when a titled man has many sons."

"But with a nobleman's education you could do much more for yourself, surely," she reasoned. "You're young yet—don't you want to study or soldier or become a politician or aim for a serdarship by other means? With your stature, my bet is you could intimidate just about any belligerent in court with a glance alone."

"I want to do well by my family, and the traditional sport would bring honor to my parents and brothers. Once that's under my belt, I can focus on doing something more productive." Grant's gaze turned far-off and thoughtful, making his conversation partner curious. "A wife, children, maybe a home on the side of a mountain where all I can see are green valleys and snowy peaks—you know, the kind of quiet that's punctuated by bickering in-laws and long days of estate managing, even if that means falling into a stewardship. I don't need much."

"…but is it what you deserve?" Lena asked slyly. She grinned mischievously as he blinked at her. "The world gives us little to work with, but that doesn't mean we have to do little with our lives. Is growing old in a mountain hut really what you want?"

"What I want is to be useful, and there are not many ways in which a baronet's third son is useful."

"Did you know that I have two brothers of my own? Younger brothers, ones that serdars and other advisors have suggested take my place when it comes to inheriting our father's title and lands." She watched as he leaned in slightly to listen. "Men give me little opportunity to command my birthright simply because of my siblings and where I lie in the order of things, to the point where if my life were a novel it would have become rather boring rather quickly. Each day I prove them wrong by being a strong and capable leader while one brother is floundering in what will be a short-lived military career and the other is barely out of the nursery, readying himself to inherit our maternal grandfather's holdings since he is furthest from the governance chair in the march. Who is anyone to tell you that you must wrestle bears in order to make something of yourself, simply because you were born last of your brothers?"

Grant studied Lena's face and attempted to gauge the seriousness of her words. She seemed sincere enough and her words were inspiring ones. "Yes, but your parents encourage you to rule; mine encourage me to wrestle wild animals with my bare hands. It's different in Althos than in Gallifrey."

"Then maybe Althos isn't where you belong," she replied plainly. She took a sip of her wine and arched her eyebrows, signaling that someone was about to intrude. Sure enough, they were joined not a moment later by the young Viscount of Grey. He sat down on the chair that was near Lena's end of the settee and smirked.

"So, how did you enjoy the hunt?" he asked. "It is not often we see the famed Marchioness of Kasterborous and Gallifrey amongst our numbers—one could almost assume that you don't like any of us."

"It is more that hunting is far from being my preferred pastime; venison is a palatable dish, but I'd rather have a professional huntsman make the kill," she replied flatly, not letting the viscount's near-mocking tone affect her. "I am used to soldiering, which is exactly the opposite of hunting." She sipped at her drink and attempted to control her eyes from rolling. "Have you ever been on a battlefield, Lord Grey?"

"I served in the King's Guard during the rebel skirmish we had a couple years back," he said. "That was dreadful."

"I pity those poor farmers—they were pushed to the edge by people who failed to listen to them, let alone ever truly take their words into consideration," Lena replied. "The fact the uprising claimed so few lives is a miracle."

The viscount raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Few? There were over a dozen deaths on both sides."

"Then let me tell you a secret," she countered. "I don't care for sport-killing because I was nearly sport myself. Perfectly decent, vibrant soldiers have gone down before my eyes, and because of that, I don't take the concept of hunting lightly."

"We eat what we catch, not to mention feed some of the locals," the viscount frowned.

"That may be true, but you also don't eat an eight-year-old child," Lena quipped. "I've been helping my fellow Kasterborsians keep the march, and therefore the kingdom, safe for seventeen years. I know what it is to be hunted, so I have to say that my sympathies are more with our dinner than they are with the party members."

Thinking better of himself, the viscount politely found an excuse and left the conversation. Grant then stared at Lena, unsure of what to say.

"Was that true?" he finally asked.

"Unfortunately," she sighed. She took another large drink of her malt and leaned into the back of the settee, letting her gaze wander out the window on what was becoming a dreary sky. "I'm sorry about that—every so often someone tries to pick me apart and ruffle my feathers. Like I said earlier: the sort of things that I get from others became old hat incredibly fast."

"What were you doing on the battlefield at the age of eight?" he wondered, genuinely curious. He kept his voice quiet, so as to not attract attention. "I don't doubt you were there… but I have a difficult time thinking it."

"It was supposed to be a routine visit, the last before my youngest sister was born," she explained. "My parents made the trip plenty of times before, so Mama and I didn't think much of it, yet it ended up being that my sister was birthed in the medical tent while I made sure a Sontarian didn't get through the entrance flaps." She looked him dead in the eyes, knowing he believed her. "It was my first battle."

"I'm sorry," Grant said.

"Don't apologize; it's nothing you can control," she replied. Lena gave his hand a quick pat—nothing that could be misconstrued—and offered an assuring smile. "My sister is nearly of presentation age and Mama came out healthy enough to still birth my youngest brother. I had to face an enemy soldier at some point, and doing so while young helped to reinforce how real the danger becomes."

"That's a very brave way to look at things," he said uncomfortably. He took the hand that was still resting atop his and held it for a moment before furrowing his brow in thought. "You work with your hands as well."

"Swords and marksmanship practice once a week—thrice when a certain sister is home from the front—and I likely write a few thousand words on a normal day," she replied. She took her hand back and caught herself before smiling too broadly; the emotions he was broadcasting were so clear that she nearly did not need her Gallifreyan gift to catch them. A thought came to her mind, so striking that it caused her to pause long enough to cause Grant worry.

"Lena…? Are you alright?"

"Yes," she said, quickly snapping from her thoughts. "You know how work follows you no matter how far you go—I was thinking about a couple court positions back home that need filling." She chuckled, knowing she had his attention. "Do you think you'd want first crack at an interview?"

"A job interview? Me? Are you sure that no one would have any objections to a southern mountain man wandering around Gallifrey?"

"You would provide a fresh perspective—my brother-in-law is from Rhylls and he brings a uniqueness to the table that very few in my court are able to provide naturally. To have the advice of two southern men, one baseborn and the other highborn, within the walls of Castle Gallifrey would be truly advantageous when it comes to the national perspective, as well as keeping local matters from becoming too insular in nature."

"I'm touched, but…"

"…but..?"

"But if my father finds out that I am interviewing with you…"

"There are a few others here from Kasterborous—simply say you are interviewing with a Kasterborsian and make it sound like it will get you out of his hair," she said. "How long does it take to get to Althos from here?"

"Two weeks."

"Then how does a month and a half sound? That gives you time to return home, rest, and then make the trip to Kasterborous in your own time."

Grant considered that, then frowned. "That is too close to the start of winter, isn't it? If I'm not trapped in Kasterborous, then I will be buried as I navigate the passes in the Althosians."

"Stay the winter—if anything, it will be a change of scenery, and it gives you time to contemplate your options."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Now, tell me about this bear-wrestling business and how it impacts the local Althosian economy…"

That night, Lena and Grant remained side-by-side for most of the time that was not spent being shuffled around from place to place and made to sit next to others for socializing. They parted that night as friends, with the marchioness leaving early the following morning after a well-timed letter from the front that demanded her personal attention to some invented emergency. With Malebolgia far behind her, she allowed herself the faintest of smiles as she rode off towards her homelands.

They really did breed them differently in the southern parts of the kingdom… that much was for certain.

A/N: Would you believe that I've had Grant's name picked out for what, at this point, is nearly years? He genuinely has nothing to do with the Grant in The Return of Doctor Mysterio except for coincidentally sharing the same first name. Grant Gordon does exist in this 'verse, though I am still figuring out in what capacity.