A/N: I tried to write other things, but this chapter kept nagging me, so here we are.

Johan and Clara are roughly 79 and 60, respectively. Lena also features at 29.

Chapter Forty-Two: Jarlshall

"Mama, Papa, what were you planning on doing for your anniversary?"

The question sideswiped Lord Johan and Lady Clara as they sat having tea with their eldest daughter. Everyone else was off doing other things, which left the three of them alone.

"We weren't planning on doing much, starlet," Lord Johan replied. "All we wish for these days is a quiet life, caring for the grandstarlets we have now and preparing for ones who will come in the future."

"Yes, and as much as we appreciate you watching over the children, I've discussed it with everyone else and it's fairly unanimous that we think you should take a holiday for yourselves," Lena said calmly. Soon as her father opened his mouth to protest, she raised her hand to silence him. "I have already made the necessary arrangements; you are to arrive at Jarlshall in a fortnight and remain there for a month in order to relax and enjoy being schedule-free. It will be good for you both to get away from Gallifrey and the commotion she causes, taking a holiday alone."

"Starlet, I'm not going to Jarlshall," her father frowned.

"Yes, you are."

"Lena, listen to your father," Lady Clara scolded gently. "If he doesn't want to go, then…"

"He has been a stubborn old man about it for far too long, Mama," she replied. "All the rest of us have slept there in the recent years, and at this point he has little to fear by returning there. You will be by his side and it will do the staff and surrounding villagers good to see the both of you together."

A silence settled over the library that was heavy with ire and contempt. Father and daughter were in a gridlock, neither willing to budge on the matter, whilst the former marchioness…

"You two are being silly," she snapped. She turned towards her daughter and gave her a disapproving glare. "Lena, you ever try to do something like this again and I don't care that you are Marchioness and Doctor in your own right, for I will turn you over on my knee and no one will stop me, even you." She then turned towards her husband, face set resolutely. "Johan, our daughter went through a lot of trouble to put this together, so we're going and that's final."

"Mama…!"

"Clara…!"

"No arguments out of either of you," she said firmly, cutting them both off. "You want to know what the problem is? Both of you are exactly the same, and if someone is not around to keep the two of you in line, there is no peace in this castle. Stars forbid, it might actually take me dying for this nonsense to cease… and even then I'm not entirely certain."

Her husband and daughter both sat quietly, guiltily, their stormy eyes all downcast and introspective. They knew she was correct—very few knew them as she and fewer yet would call them out on it. Tears glassed over both their eyes as they attempted to not shed them in their guilt. After she felt enough time had passed, the former marchioness took another biscuit and poured herself some tea.

"Now Lena, did you have any other plans that we need to know about, or is this the only one?"

The following week, Lord Johan and Lady Lena began to pack and made the necessary arrangements before heading off to their quiet holiday in the country. After a dinner surrounded by family on their anniversary proper, they bid their children and grandchildren farewell for the time being and were helped into the carriage that was to take them to the family's official retreat of Jarlshall, a mansion settled in lands composed of idyllic pastures and gorgeous woods. Although the ride was smooth and relatively short, it seemed as though they had traveled thousands of miles as they approached the grand house, made of the same blue stone as Castle Gallifrey.

"Our daughter is pitching a fit," Lord Johan scowled as he stared out the window. It was countryside he hadn't seen in years, yet it was all familiar as though he frequented the area often. His wife took one of his knobby hands in both of hers and kissed his knuckles.

"She's not the only one," she mentioned. Lady Clara leaned against her husband's arm and sighed contently. "Our Lena is truly her papa in skirts, though I'm not sure who is being sillier."

"I have had no need for Jarlshall in decades," he sulked.

"Sixty years is a long time to be away from a place you used to love," she reminded him. They passed through the front gate of the property and began the ride along the long, tree-lined drive. "I am always fond of the trees here in the springtime—not the ones we have in the gardens in Gallifrey, that is for certain, but they are still gorgeous."

He did not answer, instead keeping quiet as they watched the scenery pass them by. Eventually the view opened onto a hilly pasture, a grand estate seated upon the highest point. The carriage brought them all the way to the front door, where the entire staff had come outside to greet their employers, every one seemingly overjoyed to see them.

"Johan, it is so good to see you again," the grey-haired butler grinned as he opened the door and assisted his lord out. "Do you remember me?"

It took him a moment, but as the butler was assisting Lady Clara from the carriage, Lord Johan remembered. "Toberman… we used to play together as children… your mother was a maid here in the house, and when you were old enough you worked here yourself… oh, my old friend..." He then shook the butler's hand, tears at the corners of his eyes. "Look at what time has done to us."

"You last saw me as a footman, milord—now I keep this home for you and your family while you are away."

"…and I've been away for far too long."

"See?" Lady Clara smirked. "This was the right decision." She gently held her husband's elbow and pulled him along. "Come on… let us see how time has passed elsewhere."

Guiding him slowly, she brought him over the threshold of the house. The staff watched with bated breath as he walked into the foyer, glancing around. Their lord turned towards them and opened his arms wide, a grin on his face.

"I've returned."

The older staff cheered, the younger staff laughed, and Lady felt a weight lift from her chest.

'Lena, you impossible child,' she thought. 'Thank you.'

As the days went by, Lord Johan and Lady Clara adjusted to their holiday as best they could. Every so often, they would come across something that would remind him of days gone by and his grip on her would tighten slightly. Since little had been done to the décor in the decades that had passed—anything major would have involved his permission, or that of Clara or Lena, both of whom were not affected by the relics and artwork that adorned the mansion—there were many stories that now accompanied the things that she merely appreciated for what they were on the surface. She heard stories of his parents, grandparents, old friends, and even his old love. He went through the tales carefully, occasionally recalling with great difficulty, doing his best to remember his forebears respectfully. It was a side that his wife had not seen in a long while, and she adored it.

A few days into their stay at Jarlshall, the lord and lady were taking tea out on the veranda when the head-of-house approached them nervously, visibly unsure of her decision to be there.

"Milord? Milady? May I please discuss something with you both inside?" she requested.

"Whatever it is, we can discuss it here," Lady Clara assured her. She took a closer look at the servant's face and her heart skipped a beat. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing is the matter—I simply have a private matter to discuss."

Respecting her discretion, the couple followed the head-of-house back inside and into the drawing room. She closed the door behind them and took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation ahead.

"What is wrong?" Lord Johan asked. He knew the woman was in her early sixties, yet she was acting more sixteen than anything. For him to notice, it had to of been terrible. "You look ready to faint." The head-of-house simply pulled an envelope out of her dress pocket, eyes downcast.

"I know this isn't mine to give, and I wondered what good it would do to even hand it over, but…" She held out the envelope towards him; it was wrinkled slightly and yellowed with age, though the cracking seal remained untouched.

"What is this…?" he wondered. He took the envelope from her and went quiet, recognizing the hand that had emblazoned his name on the front.

"I apologize, milord, but this was left with the previous head-of-house by Her Former Ladyship Melody with explicit instructions to give it to you upon her death. Since no one knew of your departure until it was too late and as it was to be given within the grounds of Jarlshall specifically…"

"No, that is alright," Lady Clara answered for her husband. She held his arm, making sure he knew she was there. "You did well by her memory; do not be ashamed of that."

"Thank you, milady." The head-of-house frowned apprehensively, unsure of what her actions had done. "Still, I apologize, milady, for rehashing something so old and intrusive. You were still my beloved marchioness, my trusted Doctor, and I am proud to say that your daughter is now those things in your retirement."

"We must respect the dead's wishes, whenever they can be done without harm to the living," Lady Clara replied. "Her Former Ladyship and I are in no competition, and it would be rude and selfish to pretend I have been the only love in my husband's long life. Please wait outside for a moment."

"Yes, ma'am." She curtsied and left the room. Lady Clara then led her husband over towards a chair, having him sit without much fuss. He was still in shock and was easily movable even for her small frame.

"I think this is a thing between husband and wife," she said kindly. She kissed him on the forehead and followed the head-of-house out into the corridor, giving him privacy. Lord Johan watched her leave, sliding his fingers underneath the envelope flap once the door was shut and he no longer heard voices or footsteps. The seal broke and he slid the papers inside out, opening the sixty-year-old letter carefully.

"My dearest Johan," it read, elegant script flowing effortlessly over the paper. "If you are reading this, then I have likely returned to the earth and you have returned to my deathbed. I fully intend to burn this soon as I have the energy to put it in the hearth myself, but the midwife heavily suggested I write this despite my intentions and determination. No woman knows if the birthing bed will be the last one they shall ever lay in, and it is good for the spirit to go with parting words already written. Ha—I have little doubt you will hold your wife and child both in your arms, a proud husband and papa. The midwife is convinced it will be a Johan, yet her assistant says a Johanna. Will he have your eyes? Will she have your smile? Hair red and curly, or blonde and unruly, or brown and straight? The Pond temper? The Williams nose? The Song smirk? Your lord father's chin? Our poor child is already cursed."

He chuckled weakly at that, remembering how distraught Melody was over the traits their child was to inherit in the final months. All he knew was that their child was beautiful as all the stars in the sky until its final breath and that was all.

"Still, if you are genuinely reading this because I am dead, then pay attention to my words. Mourn me until your dying day for all I care, but do not let my death be the end of your life. Find our child a stepmother who will treat them like her own, give them siblings, hold grandchildren—stars, with the way your people are, you should be able to hold their grandchildren. Become the marquis you were born to be; you may be my idiot, but I believe that Earl Johan Lonan of Gallifrey and the Northern Lands will be one of the greatest Doctors one day. Kasterborous should know you as a paragon, utilizing the best of all her rulers before you, not a tired pause between eras of greatness.

"Though, now that I think of it… maybe you lost us both. If so, please marry again one day and continue the line despite what just transpired. Life will go on after us, and the only way to mourn responsibly is to ensure that the hands that lay you in the earth are ones you trained to the best of everyone's ability. Kasterborous and Gallifrey need their Doctor, and that man is you. Take care to remember that wolves are uncontrollable and roses have thorns. Stay strong and you will do the right thing in the end, even if it doesn't feel like it.

"With all my love, yours,

"Melody Williams-Pond, Earlessa of Gallifrey."

Lord Johan let himself go as he put down the letter, breaking into a full sob. Of all the difficult things he expected to face upon his return to Jarlshall, his childhood love's final words were not one of them. He cried and cried until he felt he could cry no more, sitting there with his face in his hands. A light touch to his shoulder alerted him to someone's presence—Clara. She saw his red face and puffy eyes and her heart shattered for him. After wiping his face clean of tears and mucus with her kerchief, she sat down in his lap, gently placing her arms around his shoulders.

"I came to check on you and I'm glad I did," she explained. She stroked his fluffy curls, noting how they were losing their grey and slowly becoming snowy white, and kissed his cheek. "Was it really that bad?"

"It was a letter written in case she met the fate that she did, that she didn't believe she would let me read except as a farce," he replied. "If I had only known…"

"You did not know though."

"I should have."

"Stop beating yourself up over it," she frowned. "You have been married to me for an entire decade longer than you were in mourning blacks—you did what she wanted anyhow."

His eyes went wide as he stared at her in disbelief. "How…?"

"…because she would have wanted you to continue on, be strong, and not let her death lead to yours." She put a hand on his cheek, caressing him gently. "I wrote a similar letter, but I was able to burn mine."

"You… you did…?"

"Yes, with each birth I wrote one, and they remained hidden until after a week had passed. Our daughters even wrote them with the same intentions and results."

"I did not know this was a custom amongst mothers-to-be."

"It is, but usually it is only those who write and receive ever really know for certain," she explained. "As marvelous as Kasterborsian physicians are, some things cannot be helped, and although it is tragic, it is also a learning experience for all those involved."

Lord Johan quietly stared at the papers in his hands again, frowning at the words written half in jest. "It was tragic, and I miss them both more than I can say, but it did lead to something beautiful, that I would never give up for both my hearts' sake."

"There's the moon in my sky," Lady Clara crooned.

"Full and bright, you are for always the moon in mine," he replied. He placed the letter on the side-table and held her close, kissing her cheeks and forehead and lips. "The past thirty-five years by your side have only brought me joy after joy in such numbers that I feel eternally blessed by the gods and stars alike. I did nothing to deserve you, our children, our grandchildren, the life we've shared together. Even when I was at my most ridiculous, your love has never wavered, and it has, in turn, humbled me beyond compare."

"If I remember correctly, thirty-five years ago, you gave a young woman an acceptable escape from scandal and societal restrictions, setting her free with an act that many see as their doom," she chuckled. "You are my darling husband, my doting paramour, the dashing steed that fathered my children, and by the time we realized what had happened, it was too late to turn back. I wouldn't trade you for any man, living or dead."

"I was foolish, thinking that my moon had set all those years ago—now I know it was merely a tower light that was snuffed out against a clouded sky. It took a long time for the clouds to part and for me to realize the flame had not merely been renewed, but that it was truly the moon, and I have not been lost since that very moment." He held her close, breathing in her scent and wanting to never let go. "It was the right thing to read that letter, and there is no one else I'd rather have by my side as I read it than you."

They then kissed, languid and loving, holding one another tenderly as they could manage. There was nothing that would make their devotion waver, not even a reminder of loves long lost. It was a love that would last them until they were laid together in the earth and that was the most certain thing.

That night, Lord Johan and Lady Clara laid together properly for the first time since walking over the threshold of Jarlshall. He came abruptly, yet made up for it with deft fingers and a hushed ballad in the ceremonial tongue. One thing they knew, as they went to sleep in one another's arms, was that they were truly meant to be together, no matter what had happened in the past, was happening that moment, or would happen in the future.

It was only later, when all were asleep and down for the night, did anything odd transpire. A young woman clad in white walked through the corridors of the mansion, finding her way to Lord Johan and Lady Clara's room. She watched them silently, their forms still with sleep, and smiled knowingly at the couple. Holding back her long red hair, she kissed the lord on the brow, whispering his name reverently.

"Johan."

He jolted awake, immediately sitting upright in his bed. Looking around, there was no one there, merely the breeze fluttering in from the opened window and a room devoid of life aside from him and his wife. He was breathing heavily in his panic, not knowing if he had been dreaming just then or not.

"Mmmm… come here, Johan," Lady Clara murmured in her sleep. She tugged him back down into her arms, holding his head to her breasts. "You idiot."

"My love," he exhaled, calmed by her embrace. It was a dream, he decided. It had to of been. Only a dream could such things to him now, as his life—his wonderful life—was too content to cause him any horror not cured by the break of day.