A/N: Gosh, I really wanted to write some more of Danny's relationships with Clara and Martha as per this AU, which of course lead to this chapter.

Chapter Fifty-Two: Old Rumors and New Lies

Water slowly dripped down from the side of the carriage, splashing lazily on Lena's outstretched hand. The tween, although happy that the rain from earlier had let up, was bored out of her mind as she rode quietly with her mother.

"Bring your hand back inside," the Marchioness said flatly. Her daughter glanced over to see that she was still reading her book, and then ignored her. "I meant now."

Lena brought her hand in and allowed herself to crumple on her side of the carriage. "It never takes this long when we normally visit."

"We normally have more people with us to help pass the time," her mother explained. "Consider this a decent break from your studies; normally you would be writing three different farming reports, doing advanced mathematics, and attempting to recite law verbatim from memory."

"I guess," Lena mumbled. Propping her legs up so her feet nearly touched the ceiling and her skirt slid down into her lap, she loathed how time had ground to a halt as it was just her and her mother, though she figured the company could have definitely been worse.

It took until the carriage passed through a familiar town before the young earlessa's spirits perked up. Coal's Hill, the economic and cultural center of the Barony of Coal-on-the-Hill was tiny compared to the City and Earldom of Gallifrey—let alone the March of Kasterborous—yet it was still one of the girl's favorite places in the kingdom. Pedestrians and those on horseback waved happily at her and she waved back, for everyone knew who she was and the importance that her family held in not only the kingdom, but in the creation of their liege lord as well as his courtly tutelage

Once on the other side of the town, the coachman made a sharp turn and headed down the long drive that brought them to Hill House, the grand estate that was their destination. They had barely stopped in front of the mansion when Lena jumped from the carriage and began hopping around in frustration, attempting to shake away the stiffness gained from being cooped up for so long.

"Next time you don't have enough energy to spar with Tara, I'm calling your bluff for certain," Daniel laughed as he came out the front door. Footmen came behind him and began to unpack the trunks from the back of the carriage while their lord greeted their guests. "How was the trip, Clara?"

"You know how fate is supposed to give a person another version of them amongst their children?" the Marchioness posed as she was helped from the carriage. She motioned towards Lena and grit her teeth. "I think I've found twelve-year-old Johan."

Daniel bit the inside of his lips and let his eyes go wide and his brows arch as he turned his head away from the Marchioness. He then raised his hands in mock surrender before letting out a heavy sigh. "Stars help me if Oriana takes after her dad."

"…in all the best ways, I'm certain," the Marchioness laughed. She then summoned her daughter and the three went into Hill House. With his guests ahead of schedule, Daniel was more than happy to play host for a day longer than planned.

Two days later, the same carriage that brought the Marchioness and her daughter was once again packed, this time with the Baron's luggage as well. They started early in the morning, before the sun peeked over the baronial hills, reaching their destination before lunch. The trip made the Earlessa much more excitable, for she could not recall having ever been inside Shoreditch.

The Barony of Shoreditch, once a sister-state to Coal-on-the-Hill, lied along the westward ocean shores on the other side of a low mountain range that separated the two baronies. With its population concentrated mainly at the mouth of the River Luye—an important shipping gateway into a nearby portion of the kingdom's interior—its apex position within the local economy allowed it to have long been mismanaged by nobility from a line of the debauched, drunk, and dismal. It had only been within the past few years that the governing line had taken helm of the area and her long-ignored issues, with that responsibility landing on the young heir of the baron himself. Later that day, as the setting sun would brightly illuminate the Baronica Hall inside Shores' Watch, the lad would take his father's place in the lands despite the fact the older man still drew breath; it was certain to be an event none of them wanted to miss.

Whilst Coal-on-the-Hill was green and sunny, with gentle rains and warm breezes, Shoreditch was cold and stark in comparison. Lena watched intently from the carriage as their surroundings changed from the familiar broadleaf trees and pastures in Coal-on-the-Hill to the pines and boulders of the mountain passes, finally becoming shrubs and grasses forced to steel themselves in the moist winds off the ocean.

"I don't know if I like it here," she frowned.

"It's not bad," the Baron assured. "The ocean makes it windy and a bit brisk, yeah, but just wait until the dinner tonight—seafood unlike anything Blackpoole has to offer."

"Considering I'm letting him get away with saying that, you know it has to be true," the Marchioness added. She was beginning to wonder if bringing her daughter was a mistake about to erupt in her face, as it was soon to be one of the most delicate situations that Lena had ever been in. It was better than bringing the Marquis—that was for certain—yet her daughter's imitation of her father's irritability and brashness was sure to be tested on the trip.

Soon, they pulled up to a castle carved from the very rock that ran beneath the carriage's wheels and into the higher ground that led to the mountains. Shores' Watch was at the very top of a ridge, one that towered over the village below and the harbor it surrounded. Its young, short, slightly-built master greeted his guests as they came to a stop, an expression of optimistic nervousness slapped across his face.

"How are you doing, Conor?" the Baron asked. He helped the Marchioness from the carriage while his younger counterpart helped Lena. "No one's been causing you trouble, I hope."

"No one other than Papa, though you three are the first guests to arrive," the young lord said. "I have been told that not many are against my taking over Shoreditch so early… though I don't really want today to be the day I learn who they are."

"I'm sure you'll do splendid," the Marchioness said. It was then that the lordling bowed towards her, making his deep respect apparent.

"Thank you so much for coming, Your Ladyship," he said. "It means more than you realize, at least in my eyes. Considering the encouragement you've given and the support you and your husband have provided my confidant Lord Pink and myself, I doubt I would be here right now."

"There is no harm in taking an interest in our friends' baronial neighbors attempting a turnaround such as yours," the Marchioness replied. "Johan and I are hoping to hear that your lands reach a state of recovery sooner rather than later; your mind is especially sharp and we believe that if anyone can do it, then you can. Corresponding with your elders throughout the kingdom for advice is a wise move for someone of your age, and I hope it continues."

"Encouraging words aren't often spoken on these grounds—I appreciate it." He then turned towards Lena and motioned with his head towards where they could see the ocean waters. "Would you like me to show you a better view of the seas before there are too many guests? If your Most Honorable Mother would permit me, that is."

"Is there a better view of the seas?" the Marchioness chuckled.

"Down by the storm shelters; some rock formations cut from the waters are easily visible from there, whereas up here they're hidden by the rest of the point we're standing on."

"Then go and be quick about it." She shooed them off and shook her head as she glanced at the Baron. "He's still just a child; how is he going to take on all of Shoreditch by himself while so young?"

"Simple: he has to," he shrugged. "From what I understand, Alaric never was one for doing anything that didn't involve a bottle or a bed and poor Nora can't wrap her head around much more than the weather and what the latest fashion is in the capitol, though not why. Conor is Shoreditch's only hope to keep from a stewardship, and even His Highness is aware of that." He watched suspiciously as the house's footmen finished taking in their luggage, keeping an eye on them. "Be careful; we don't know who is out for blood and who is not."

"You're being paranoid, again; if anyone looks suspicious here, it's you Lord Cybera," the Marchioness teased. She took his arm and they walked into Shores' Watch together. They were led towards the lounge to await their host and luncheon. Conor's lady mother was there, just as tiny and slight as her son, and was able to entertain her son's guests to the best of her ability—making apologies for her absent husband and assuring that yes, the weather was doing splendid for the time of year. A few more guests arrived before a wind-whipped Conor and Lena returned, the latter chattering on as though she was in her first year of secondary school and the former was her outgoing student-mentor. With his final act of childish fun behind him, the lordling made his apologies to the new guests and began the long, arduous process of hosting his own creation ceremony.

Lunch passed and more visitors came. As men and women of local importance flooded Shores' Watch, the Baron leaned towards the Marchioness and quietly explained who they were and why they were likely to be there. She very quickly learned who were the snakes, the voles, and those who were merely trying their best, all through her friend's deadpan commentary. They were barely without one another as the afternoon wore on, keeping one another sane as other lords and ladies and local figures alike introduced themselves and marveled privately at how a northern marchioness and earlessa was there at what was otherwise one of the more humble seats of governance.

Soon, the sun began to set and the guests were all funneled into the grand ballroom, Baronica Hall, where breathtaking windows of colored glasses bathed everything and everyone in dozens upon dozens of dazzling colors. The ceremony was quick in order to accommodate the precise timeframe they had with the sunlight, ending just before the sun set and turned the world to a soft blue twilight.

Then it was time for the feast—oh, the feast! The Baron had guessed correctly when he had predicted an excellent spread of seafood, for that was what was laid before them. There were many different fishes, each in their own sauce, in such a variety that most lost track of their names. Crabs and lobsters had been shelled and turned into sweet, tender dishes, whilst things that many could not name were also paraded around. Even the mutton that was available had been reared on seagrasses and kelps, giving the meat a unique flavor that emphasized how important the ocean waters were to the area.

The Gallifreyan contingent was so concentrated on the food, from the meats to the various root vegetables and greens, that they did not notice how several people were watching them closely as the night went on. Other guests whispered and murmured amongst themselves, carefully analyzing the Baron Coal-on-the-Hill's interactions with the strangers from the north. He did not seem to treat the earlessa—the youngest in attendance, making it so that the new Lord Shoreditch was only second-so—as anything other than an adult well beyond her years, and the familiarity with which he glanced at the marchioness… it made tongues wag and memories resurface.

It had been just over twenty years since word first began of an illicit love between an orphaned soldier and his noble paramour on the banks of the River Wyre, yet none thought they would see it rekindled near the River Luye… and in front of a child to be impacted by such an affair no less.

Dinner passed and the chatter was in full-force by the time desserts were being placed upon the tables. Conor skipped his and stood instead, addressing the room from his spot upon a dais.

"Thank you, everyone, for attending my creation ceremony, as well as this feast that my staff has worked tirelessly to serve us," he began. The hall began to quiet, allowing him to better talk over his guests. "I plan on this being the last societal event I host for a long while as I attempt to bring order to the ledgers and balance to the barony's coffers. Please understand my position and use this night to drink and make tonight one that will last until my next banquet."

"Whose seat will you celebrate stealing then?" a voice shouted in the crowd.

"I am not a thief," Conor said. He furrowed his brow in an attempt to seem firm and stern, yet his youth betrayed him. "What I am is someone who has made a tough decision for the good of his people; if I was to not act when I had, then I would be left with nothing, and no one can turn around something from nothing."

"Greedy child!"

"Selfish boy!"

"Lying brat!"

"That is enough!" the Baron Coal-on-the-Hill bellowed. He stood from his seat near the dais and slammed his fists on the table, making the young earlessa across from him jump. "Do any of you know how difficult it is to be in his position?! The lad is braver than you lot put together!"

"Says the man who not only stole a title and lands, but continues an improper affair well after both parties have been long wed to other people?"

Since returning from being captive in Cybera over twelve years prior, the range of facial emotions the Baron was able to generate had decidedly dwindled thanks to the torture he had been put through; his skin sagged nearly like a corpse's and the metal implants tugged at his muscles. This did not mean, however, that he was incapable of showing pure, confounded rage.

"You dare think of me as some upstart?! A letch?! Whomever said that should come and say it to my face, unless you think it beneath you to look a man in the eyes who earned his title by being a prisoner of warinstead of the accident of being born! How many of you have been outside our northern borders and came back able to tell the tales?! I am here with some friends, for a friend, and if you cannot fathom that, then you have some much scarier people than me to answer to, a thousand times worse than me."

A silence fell over the hall, with all sounds of eating stopped. Everyone stared at the Baron; some were intrigued, some terrified, and some knowing there was many amongst them who needed the dressing-down. The Baron lowered his voice, despite the fact it carried all the same.

"Baroness Coal-on-the-Hill and the Marquis and Marchioness of Kasterborous and Gallifrey," he clarified. "My wife is no pushover, my friend with me tonight is a force to be reckoned with, and her husband… he was not called the Black Spectre for the fun of it, after all."

With that, the Baron turned on his heel and left the hall, everyone else stunned into silence. Talk quietly resumed after the door slammed behind him, though there were some who found that it was their turn to retire from the festivities. One glance from the young Baron Shoreditch and the Marchioness quickly took her leave, bringing her daughter with her as she chased down the Baron Coal-on-the-Hill to their quarters that had earlier been shown as theirs in the guest wing. She found him sitting at the foot of his bed, palming his eyes in frustration as tears flowed from them.

"Daniel, don't let them get to you," she said, rushing over to sit at his side. Putting an arm around his shoulders, she kept him close in a reassuring hug. "They were drunk and out of line—none of them are worth any effort or thought. Isn't that right, Lena?" The Marchioness glanced towards the door, only to see that her daughter was still there, staring at the two of them with unease. "What's wrong?"

"I… um…" Lena shrank backwards slightly when her tutor looked up at her; the action broke his heart.

"You've never seen that side of me before," he realized aloud. "I'm sorry you had to see that. You were one of the ones who least deserved it."

"I don't think I've ever been scared of you before," Lena admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "They shouldn't've acted like that."

"I shouldn't've acted like that," he said.

"No, you were completely within your rights," the Marchioness said. "They were being terrible, and they should have heard that lecture from their own parents a long time ago, about something completely different. You shouldn't have to remind grown adults of their manners, but sometimes you do, and that is the truth of it."

"Please don't be cross, Sir Daniel," Lena said, almost timidly. "It doesn't suit you."

"You're right; it doesn't." He stood and carefully approached Lena, bringing her in for a hug where he kissed the top of her hair protectively. She trembled momentarily, though leaned into it once it was clear that this was her tutor again, not the famed soldier that was such a distant thought he seemed almost legend. "Forgive me, please."

"Just don't yell at me like that next time I get poor marks and we'll be alright," she replied. He chuckled softly at that, then turning back towards the Marchioness with a frown.

"You two better get to your room before another guest sees you come from here," he said. "I promise that I'll be more clear-headed after a night's rest."

"I'll hold you to that, or I'm reporting you to Martha," the Marchioness warned. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and left with her daughter, not speaking again until they were safe behind the door of the room they shared. "Lena?"

"Yes, Mama…?"

"Learn from this, you hear me?" she commanded. "Do not be afraid, but most of all: do not give those imbeciles power over you. It is more difficult for Sir Daniel, as he is already well into adulthood and set in his ways, but you can still perfect this art young. Those people are why we have our lady's mask and they should never see you falter. They are beneath you in station and morals, and they know it, and the only way to keep them there is by not falling for their tricks and harsh words. One of your best weapons will be a well-controlled ire, released only when the time is right—remember that."

Lena nodded and swallowed hard.

"Yes, Mama."

Days later, the Marquis was taking his evening tea in his study whilst catching up on paperwork. His younger daughters and son were there as well, taking care of coursework and practicing their letters, staying quiet for their papa during the peaceful hours before bedtime. It was such a routine night, with the fire crackling in the hearth to ward away the soft rain's chill, that Lena appearing in the doorway seemed to be a great surprise. Her youngest siblings rejoiced and bounced around her, whilst the twins noticed as their father slipped out into the corridor.

The children all stayed in Lena's room that night, falling asleep while listening to their sister's tales of Shoreditch and the unknown people she met there. This allowed the Marchioness to lavish her husband in attention as she took him, making him mutter obscenities in the ceremonial tongue as she barely allowed him rest between bouts of lovemaking well into the night. She cursed the people who spoke ill of her, of her marriage, of their friend, and with every gasp the Marquis made, she felt her frustration melt away as she let the melody of his voice ease her spirit back to where it belonged.

Meanwhile, across the grounds, Daniel unlocked the door to his cottage and entered, barely making a sound. Yes, he was not the Baron Coal-on-the-Hill here, or Lord Pink, or even Sir Daniel, but just a man returning home from a long journey. He left his boots by the door and his cloak on its hook, for they were too wet to wear throughout the house. Up the stairs and into his room; his wife and daughter were curled up under the blankets together, taking advantage of the weather to turn in early. Daniel leaned over the edge of the mattress and kissed his wife's forehead, waking her gently.

"Look at who we have here," Martha murmured. She reached up and touched his face, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb. "How was the ceremony? Did you make my apologies to Conor?"

"Our new lord neighbor is well, and understands why I went alone," he replied. He gingerly took her hand in his and kissed it, his eyes brimmed in sorrow. "I still wish you had been there—Johan as well."

"Okay, what happened?" she asked. She sat up—careful to not wake their daughter—and locked eyes with her husband. "You rarely want Johan around if you have the opportunity otherwise."

"I lost my temper multiple times," he explained. "It will work out in the end, as I now know who to exclude during any talks of trade and whatnot, but in the short-term… be ready to hear rumors of not only Clara and I, but how I don't deserve to be here."

Martha groaned in exasperation, pulling Daniel towards her for a kiss. "I wouldn't let you go with Clara unless I trusted you both."

"…I know…"

"…and besides, you are good. Not 'good enough', but genuinely so and in all the best ways. You deserve all the good things in your life, and if someone thinks otherwise, I will hand them over to the Daleks and laugh as they get torn apart bit by bit." She kissed him again, lips lingering this time. "Would you like to take this downstairs?"

"I think tomorrow night will do."

Standing up, Daniel went towards the wardrobe and shed his outer layers, exchanging them for a nightdress before climbing into bed with his wife and daughter. Daniel and Martha held hands as they fell asleep, Oriana nestled cozily between them.

They were far from good; they were great.

A/N: Ever go out and get some crab or lobster at a really fancy place and feel kinda weird because you're spewing juices everywhere as you're dissecting your food by-hand? That's because in real-life history crustaceans and other shellfish have often been seen as peasant food and meals for the desperate, because who else would go and try to pry open these shells just to get this airy meat that gets cold quick when one can have normal land-based meat instead. Since I try to put some of actual [past and present] practices/ideals into the series, the fact that the feast at Shores' Watch has pre-shelled crustaceans means that the servants were the ones who went through all the gross work while the guests reaped the benefits, making it a much "nobler" dish for all those who normally would view it as beneath them. (…and let's not even get into cultures that viewed normal fishing of actual fish as a lowly occupation/activity in general.)

Oh, and just a reminder–since it has been ages since I've last laid this out–that in this continuity, Danny and Clara have successfully made the transition to Better As Friends and neither of their spouses care about their shared past. I am personally for Danny/Clara, Twelve/Clara, and Twelve/Clara/Danny with Clara being the sleeping barrier between her two at-odds boyfriends, but in SASBB, we are firmly in a Twelve/Clara and Danny/Martha continuity. Let's be real: Danny deserved better than what he got in canon. Martha deserved something that made more sense than what she got in canon. Twelve and Clara deserved more than the thirty seconds of green screen splicing that they got in canon. Although he doesn't come into play here whatsoever, God bless Mickey, 'cause he deserved way better than what canon dealt him and he also deserves an ending that makes more sense than "hurr pair the spares skin tone edition" (as does Martha, per my rage over her ending (and her being with Danny here is more of a "I thought this out" than anything (see ch.6′s notes))).

Heaven help me if I ever get into a face-to-face shipping argument. I don't mask my displeasure well.