A/N: I recently was able to (finally) get a hold of the Musketeers s1 and I was reminded of how much I miss Johan and Clara, so here's this.

Chapter Fifty-Six: Turning the Decade

It was the first warm day as winter was beginning to come to a close. Snow still blanketed the ground and ice hung from the eaves, yet it began to grow soft and melt in the strengthening Spring sun. With their twin daughters playing with toys on the rug and their eldest and heir with her tutor for half the day, the Marquis and Marchioness Kasterborous and Gallifrey were working diligently in their office, catching up on work that was now piling in thanks to the break in weather.

"This never feels as though it ends," the Marchioness commented. She placed another correspondence—a denied building permit—into an envelope and addressed it before putting it atop another small stack. Her husband chuckled and shook his head.

"…and everyone wonders why I seem irritable," he added. "With a work load like this, anyone would be."

"This is true." She glanced over at their daughters and sweetened her voice. "Girls? Could you please put Mama's letters in the bag?"

"I do it, Mama!" Tara cheered. She jumped to her feet and stomped over towards her mother, taking the six envelopes and carefully bringing them across the room. A large burlap sack sat next to the door and she put the letters inside before returning to her dolls and blocks.

"Very good, Tara; thank you," the Marchioness said.

"Welcome!" the girl beamed. She began stacking her blocks, giggling when the lopsided tower fell down.

"Maybe Lena has a future assistant across the nursery," her mother noted. Her father, on the other hand, shrugged.

"Possibly, but if our daughters are anything like I was as a lad, then they are going to loathe paperwork sooner rather than later," the Marquis said.

"Hah, and yet you sit in here willingly."

"For I now have my moon and stars to light the way—no drudgery is too great."

"Say that when we have another attempted filibuster of court," the Marchioness laughed. She knew she was correct—the expression he wore confirmed as such—and let the subject be for the moment. They both went back to their work, only for there to be a knock at the door.

"Astra, starlet, see who that is," the Marquis requested, not looking up from his correspondence. Both twins stood and went over to the door, opening it only to squeak in delight.

"Cook! Cook! Cook!" they cheered. The girls let the woman in, both receiving a biscuit from the Gallifreyan woman.

"Not that I disapprove of the visit, but what brings you up here?" the Marchioness wondered. "Is everything fine in the kitchens?"

"Splendid, milady," the cook replied with a curtsey. She patted the twins on the head and gently eased them over towards their toys. "I simply came up to ask if you and His Lordship were planning on a ball soon."

"A ball?" The Marchioness glanced at her husband, who still seemed thoroughly engaged in the letter in his hands. "Johan? Were you planning on hosting a ball?"

"Hmm…? Huh…? Oh, no, not us." He shifted in his chair and pretended to go through the desk drawer. "Balls are for the frivolous and foolhardy. If you've noticed, we have no one complaining that we misjudge and misuse March funds and part of that is the distinct lack of balls that we host."

"A ball to mark the Spring wouldn't be bad now and then," the Marchioness said, mulling the idea over. She then saw the look on the cook's face and that it was clearly confused. "Yes…?"

"I didn't think it would be for the Spring season, ma'am," she said. "You have been Our Ladyship for nearly ten years now—wouldn't you like to mark the occasion in the Gallifreyan manner?"

The Marchioness raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"No, she would not," the Marquis interrupted. He made to stand, yet his wife snapped her head in his direction.

"Sit." He did and she turned her attention back towards the cook. "Go on."

"The turning of a decade is often a great celebration in Gallifrey," the cook explained.

"It is elsewhere as well."

"Yes, but you know as I do that balls held within the walls of Castle Gallifrey are often amongst some of the best the kingdom has to offer," she continued. "It would be well within your right to hold such an event—there has not been one since a celebration of the Eleventh Marquis and Tenth Doctor's marriage to Lady Donna."

"Since your lord grandfather?" The Marchioness looked at her husband and frowned. "Why not your parents?"

"That would assume that my mother stayed put long enough to host such an event," he replied. "My father was a young lad when my grandparents threw their last ball—so young that he had not yet met my mother—and, based on other events we've had, I am safe in saying that I would not enjoy it."

"A commemoration of our wedding would not be frivolous, especially if we use it well," the Marchioness decided. "We did not wed in Castle Gallifrey as most of our forebears have and it is the least we can do to present the people with a celebration when before there was none."

"…but Clara…"

"Johan, what are you so afraid of? Surely not a couple misers who are already displeased with our management and never shall be in a thousand years…" She turned towards the cook and gave her a thankful smile. "See if you can come up with an appropriate menu and I shall confer with you later."

"Thank you milady, milord, my wee darlings." The cook curtsied for the adults and waved for the children before leaving the office. Only Astra and Tara responded, following to the door so that they could wave her goodbye while their parents stared at one another.

"You know I do not do well within the construct of a society function," the Marquis frowned. "Let Lena learn when she comes of-age, but I do my best to help those that matter, not kiss the arses of those who couldn't be bothered."

"Then let us make it a holiday," the Marchioness shrugged. She stood and walked over to her husband's desk, sliding down onto his lap with ease. He held her in place as she leaned on him and pressed a kiss to his hair. "A banquet for the courtiers and lesser lords, but a holiday for the small and middling folk; something tells me that they will not mind."

"…so close to the Violet Night…?"

"Yes, now, if I go and organize this, will you at least attend or shall you be the most foolhardy one around by missing it?"

"I'll go," he muttered. He rubbed his whiskers against her neck, making her squirm in delight. "You shall pay dearly for this, Clara Oswald."

"I count on it."

"Mama! Mama! Wedder!" The Marquis and Marchioness saw Tara jumping up and down next to them, holding her hands high above her head. "Wedder peas!"

"Letter, please," the Marchioness repeated slowly. Tara kept on bouncing, which made her shake her head and laugh. "Looks like the taskmaster is cracking her whip."

"Then I shall take payment when the night is red and our overseer is sleeping soundly in the nursery," he promised. The Marquis left a kiss on the back of his wife's jaw before she stood, feeling satisfied when she gave him a flirtatious glance on her way back to her desk.

He was truly the most fortunate one in the entire land to have such a Moon and Stars in his life, and mayhaps bragging about it was precisely what he needed.

Whispers began making their way around the Earldom and City of Gallifrey, with the whispers becoming hearsay and the hearsay becoming rumors. By the time the snow was truly beginning to melt away and fill the March's streams and ponds, speculation had reached its boiling point, with all eyes and ears on the Marquis and Marchioness's court sessions. What was Her Ladyship planning and why was it so secretive?

Finally, one day, as the Marchioness was closing court, the people had their answer. She declared the tenth anniversary of her marriage to be a special holiday, with festivities to be planned the entire week afterward, leading up to when she first set eyes on Castle Gallifrey. They were to celebrate the March herself—the land they loved and toiled for—and thank the stars and gods for the continued stability they had all enjoyed during the decade prior. Ten years had gone by with scant protest, discontent, or repression, and that was always something to take pride in.

Word soon spread from the inner halls of Castle Gallifrey to the outer reaches of the March of Kasterborous. A holiday! They were already planning their summer festival, yet this… this was going to be special. News of the holiday was met with many nods and toasts of ale around the Earldom and March—their liege lady, second only to Her Highness the Queen, had certainly proven herself capable and talented during her tenure. Anyone who could melt the widowed Black Spectre's Hearts was certainly no one to underestimate and she had proven her worth time and again many times after in many ways. If there were to be a governing council any time soon, it would certainly not arise from her faults.

Now, however, it was time to plan a party.

"I am unsure of this, Clara," the Marquis said, rethinking any prior enthusiasm he might have possessed. He had Lena perched on his shoulders and a twin in each arm, though his back was feeling the strain of such in earnest, as they stood outside on the castle grounds and watched as a large tent was pitched by the grounds staff.

"What are you worried about?" the Marchioness wondered. Glancing over at her husband, she could see him debate with himself the idea of putting their daughters down, then firmly entertaining it by placing Astra and Tara on the rain-soaked grass and plucking Lena from his shoulders. Gallifreyan genetics or not, he was still a man and men were good at growing weak backs under the weight of one child, let alone their three. The girls clung to their papa's cape as the tent went up, their eyes wide as the canopy went higher and higher until it seemed as though it was impossibly high to their tiny selves.

"Isn't this much?" he wondered.

"Not entirely," she replied. "The Violet Sky and Violet Night are allowed many tents and stalls—let me have this, Johan. My first night in Gallifrey I took supper alone and went to sleep with you on the other side of the wall. Now I not only eat with my husband and children, but my bed is near always warm as well."

"Does that justify a tent next to a grove of trees predating the Dalek Wars that will likely be teeming with the pudding-brained and inebriated in only three days' time?"

"That it does." She noticed a tug at her skirts and looked to see Lena staring up at her. "Yes, little one?"

"Sir Daniel says that this party is for you. Is that true, Mama?"

"Yes and no," the Marchioness chuckled. "It is because I have been here for ten years, but also because these past ten years the March has been so kind and understanding that I want to show that I appreciate their acceptance of me this entire time."

"What would have happened had they not ackcepted you?"

"Thing might have been more difficult for me, for your papa, while I governed. It might have become so bad that I was no longer allowed to govern, leaving the duty to only Papa. I would not be the Doctor then."

"…but you Doctor, Mama!" Astra chimed in from the Marquis's cape. "You almost not Doctor?"

"I could have not been the Doctor, you are correct," she nodded. "The people chose to see that I am just as much the Doctor as your papa is, and that is because I chose to dedicate my life to Gallifrey and Kasterborous."

"Why?"

The question was simple, yet it sent a chill through both the parents worse than the rallying cry of a Cyberan squadron.

"What do you mean?" the Marchioness asked.

"Why did you come here? Was it because you married Papa?"

"It is complicated, starlet, but for now the answer is 'yes'," the Marquis said. He masked his sadness from his daughters, yet his wife could see it plain as the tent in front of them. "Why don't we let Mama finish here while we get ready for our nap?"

The children cheered and gave their mother hugs and kisses before bouncing their way along as they followed their father indoors. It was only after they were out of sight did the Marchioness realize what it was she was feeling, and that she did not know how she should deal with it.

She was feeling uncertainty.

It was almost laughable, she could admit inwardly while she watched the anchor lines get staked into the ground, that she should feel uncertain regarding anything. Yet here she was, fretting away over something in the back of her mind as she supervised the raising of the main tent, and it was enough to drive her up the castle walls. She refused to allow her mind time to wander until she inspected and signed-off on the setup, heading indoors to join her family for the tail end of the nap.

Once upon a time, back in the days when she was new to the March and Earldom, she was merely running away. It was not an entirely accurate description of being forced into a marriage devoid of passion entirely to save face and quell scandal, though it was the most concise she could gather as she made her way to the private wing. She found her husband in their chambers, reading quietly atop the bedding as their daughters napped on his legs.

"I was wondering if you had gotten lost," he teased. He watched as she stood back, away from the bed, and panic began to set in. Once he was able to discard the book and free himself of the sleeping children, he went to her so quickly he nearly tripped on himself. "What is the matter?! "

"No… nothing is the matter," she lied. "I'm simply lost in thought, is all."

"What sort of thought?" He held her shoulders, giving her little choice but to look at him. "Was it about… Lena's question…?"

She nodded in response. "What would I be like had we not wed? How would you have passed these years alone? If we had married now instead of ten years ago, would I still be the Doctor alongside you or would I simply be another outsider to stare at unnervingly?"

The Marquis remained silent for a moment, pondering his wife's words. Sadness returned to his face, fleeing quickly as it came. He then eased himself down to his knees, holding her hands as he gazed up into her eyes.

"Do not think of the what-ifs and the could-have-beens, Clara," he urged. "Gallifreyan children are taught from a very young age to not dwell, as dwelling is dangerous for those of us with longer lives. If there is anything I know about this decade with you at my side is that you are always full of surprises—excellent, brilliant, wonderful surprises—and that I would have no other in your place."

"I was acting a child when my father decided to offer you my hand in marriage –you willingly met a disgrace on the wedding platform." She frowned as he kissed her knuckles. "How did we get here?"

"That is easy," he replied. He placed her hands on his face, having them hold him as he allowed his own hands to travel up her arms and to her shoulders. "Clara Oswald, Moon of my Blood-Red Night, Queen of my Hearts and Mother to my Stars, you are the most radiant light of them all, bathing all that surrounds you in your glory. Any lord, lady, or council should want your counsel in governance, yet I found myself the most fortunate of all with not only your talents for managing my people and lands, but the great care with which you afford my hearts. None of my forebears have been privy to such an honor and I can only hope our daughters find even half that in their lives." He stood and held her close, kissing the top of her hair as her felt her embrace him back. "If only I had known back then…"

"Known what?"

He picked her up and spun a half-turn, making her squeak in surprise as he did so. The Marquis sank down onto the settee, pulling the Marchioness into his lap.

"If only I had known," he repeated, "that I was not meeting a potential heir on the wedding platform, but my saving grace, the mother to my heir, and the one whom has kept me alive through her love and devotion."

"You idiot," she chuckled lowly. Tears were falling freely from her eyes now, no longer able to hold them back.

"Your idiot."

"…and don't you ever forget that." She kissed him deeply, relishing the noises he made in response. Breaking the kiss, she allowed him to wander, his whiskers brushing against her skin. "After all this, however, there is one thing that I am soundly certain in."

He kissed behind her ear. "What might that be?"

"…that I am home."

"…a bit of the long way around," he added. She playfully tapped the back of his head in response, allowing the two of them a moment's-worth more feistiness before their issue overheard them and woke, realizing that now Mama and Papa were finally there.

Naptime was now over.

The days grew longer and, eventually, the time came for the celebration of the Marquis and Marchioness's wedding anniversary to begin. Opening the initial festival to all citizens and marchers, the governing couple stood atop a dais and thanked those in attendance—not only for being there on that day, but for being there for all the other days that had shown their liege lord and lady over the years that they were behind them. With the ceremonies complete, the week-long celebration began.

First there was a fair, where people from across the March came to play games and sell wares.

Then, there was a feast, which the Marchioness's father attended and wept openly for his daughter's fortunes.

Finally, there was the sky-rocket show, when said devices were lit from the top of a castle tower, launching high over the city and exploding into colorful patterns of light and smoke. The earlessa and her sisters watched in delight as the sky-rockets were launched, squealing excitedly at their grandfather as each rocket revealed its dazzling display against the violet twilight.

Their mother and father were nowhere to be found, however, as they were watching the sky-rockets from their chambers, utilizing the evening without needing to worry over their children as an excuse for some time alone. They sat curled together on the settee, having been moved closer to the window for the occasion, watching the show in blissful peace. There was a pause partway through the show to allow the soldiers on the castle tower time to clear the air and reload, during which the Marquis and Marchioness made their way to their bed. The lord tended lavishly to his wife, whilst the lady turned them around when the sky-rockets began again, allowing them both time to remind the other of how far they were from that lonely night ten years prior before the nursery was occupied once again.

To have and hold; to continue on, even when they are no more than names on the breath of elders.