#Milady! You have come back! A miracle! God has restored you!

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

There was a sudden loud hammering at the door. It didn’t sound like knocking, but as though someone really were using a metal-headed hammer to demand admittance. I got to my feet to answer the summons, but without further warning, the door burst open, and a slender imperious figure strode into the room, speaking French in an accent so pronounced and an attitude so furious that I could not follow it all.

“Are you looking for Madame Jeanne?” I managed to put in, seizing a small pause when he stopped to draw breath for more invective. The visitor was a young man of about thirty, slightly built and strikingly handsome, with thick black hair and brows. He glared at me under these, and as he got a good look at me, an extraordinary change went across his face. The brows rose, his black eyes grew huge, and his face went white.

“Milady!” he exclaimed, and flung himself on his knees, embracing me about the thighs as he pressed his face into the cotton shift at crotch level.

“Let go!” I exclaimed, shoving at his shoulders to detach him. “I don’t work here. Let go, I say!”

“Milady!” he was repeating in tones of rapture. “Milady! You have come back! A miracle! God has restored you!”

He looked up at me, smiling as tears streamed down his face. He had large white perfect teeth. Suddenly memory stirred and shifted, showing me the outlines of an urchin’s face beneath the man’s bold visage.

“Fergus!” I said. “Fergus, is that really you? Get up, for God’s sake—let me see you!”

He rose to his feet, but didn’t pause to let me inspect him. He gathered me into a rib-cracking hug, and I clutched him in return, pounding his back in the excitement of seeing him again. He had been ten or so when I last saw him, just before Culloden. Now he was a man, and the stubble of his beard rasped against my cheek.

“I thought I was seeing a ghost!” he exclaimed. “It is really you, then?”

“Yes, it’s me,” I assured him.

“You have seen milord?” he asked excitedly. “He knows you are here?”

“Yes.”

“Oh!” He blinked and stepped back half a pace, as something occurred to him. “But—but what about—” He paused, clearly confused.

“What about what?”

“There ye are! What in the name of God are ye doing up here, Fergus?” Jamie’s tall figure loomed suddenly in the doorway. His eyes widened at the sight of me in my embroidered shift. “Where are your clothes?” he asked. “Never mind,” he said then, waving his hand impatiently as I opened my mouth to answer. “I havena time just now. Come along, Fergus, there’s eighteen ankers of brandy in the alleyway, and the excisemen on my heels!”

And with a thunder of boots on the wooden staircase, they were gone, leaving me alone once more.

— Voyager

Gif: giphy.com, Season Three, Episode Six, October 22, 2017

Gif: tvfanatic.com, Season Three, Episode Six, October 22, 2017

Gif: thebookboyfriendharem.tumblr.com, Season Three, Episode Six, October 22, 2017

Photo: Starz, Season Three, Episode Six, October 22, 2017

Book: Voyager, Diana Gabaldon, 1994

Tumblr: October 17, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season Three Episode Six #S3E6 #A. Malcolm #Voyager #Chapter Twenty-Six #Milady! You have come back! A miracle! God has restored you! #Fergus, is that really you? Get up, for God’s sake—let me see you! #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Fergus Claudel Fraser #152 #101718

[yellowfeather84]

“Milady!” he was repeating in tones of rapture. “Milady! You have come back! A miracle! God has restored you!”

[themusicsweetly]

There was a sudden loud hammering at the door. It didn’t sound like knocking, but as though someone really were using a metal-headed hammer to demand admittance. I got to my feet to answer the summons, but without further warning, the door burst open, and a slender imperious figure strode into the room, speaking French in an accent so pronounced and an attitude so furious that I could not follow it all.

“Are you looking for Madame Jeanne?” I managed to put in, seizing a small pause when he stopped to draw breath for more invective. The visitor was a young man of about thirty, slightly built and strikingly handsome, with thick black hair and brows. He glared at me under these, and as he got a good look at me, an extraordinary change went across his face. The brows rose, his black eyes grew huge, and his face went white.

“Milady!” he exclaimed, and flung himself on his knees, embracing me about the thighs as he pressed his face into the cotton shift at crotch level.

“Let go!” I exclaimed, shoving at his shoulders to detach him. “I don’t work here. Let go, I say!”

“Milady!” he was repeating in tones of rapture. “Milady! You have come back! A miracle! God has restored you!”

He looked up at me, smiling as tears streamed down his face. He had large white perfect teeth. Suddenly memory stirred and shifted, showing me the outlines of an urchin’s face beneath the man’s bold visage.

“Fergus!” I said. “Fergus, is that really you? Get up, for God’s sake -- let me see you!”

He rose to his feet, but didn’t pause to let me inspect him. He gathered me into a rib-cracking hug, and I clutched him in return, pounding his back in the excitement of seeing him again. He had been ten or so when I last saw him, just before Culloden. Now he was a man, and the stubble of his beard rasped against my cheek.

“I thought I was seeing a ghost!” he exclaimed. “It is really you, then?”

“Yes, it’s me,” I assured him.

“You have seen milord?” he asked excitedly. “He knows you are here?”

“Yes.”

~ Voyager, chapter 26, “Whore’s Brunch” (x | x | x)

[Season 3 Posters]

[companaich]

Broken Ball || Ishtar & Iuchar

Participant(s): Ishtar, @sireneia​ / Iuchar

Words: 3,100

Type: C-Support

Summary: A few years after her wedding to Seliph, Ishtar accompanies him on a tour of the rest of the continent. An encounter with Iuchar proves more bolstering to her self worth than she had expected, although the tone and content of the evening itself leaves a toll on her.

     “ Oh, Lady Ishtar! I can tell why it is that His Highness covets you so; the image of thunder striking no doubt describes you to a T. To what do I owe for your presence? ”

“…oh?”

Ishtar was taken aback for a moment, blinking at him - who was this? Another member of the Liberation army, it must be…no, wait, she had him placed now. One of the lesser sons of Neir, wasn’t it - Iucharbar? No, that one was dead. Just Iuchar.

Gods above, how long had it been since someone had complimented her on looks with no seeming motive? Before Seliph, for sure - possibly even from before Julius changed. It felt…good. To be flattered again, in a way she hadn’t thought she’d hear again when so many openly despised her.

Unable to help herself, a finger moved to start twisting the end of her ponytail around it as she stared at him someone wide-eyed as she sipped at her wine.

“Just visiting with the Emperor, of course - he intends to do such a tour of the country at least once a year.” She said, mouth a little dry. “…say again what it is about my image you find so striking?”

     “ A visit from His Highness as well, is it? I’ll have to be sure to pay him my utmost respects when we cross paths then. ” It really was good news to hear he would be having company of the two of them, though a part of him laments the fact he had little to share that he found worthy of a visit. Restoration efforts would always take time, but if he could’ve somehow worked a miracle in time for an inspection by Grannvale’s most elite royal couple, Iuchar would have worn his own bones down to make it happen.

Dramatics aside, the axe knight does take note of the forewarning that this would be an annual event. His mind is so easily on the verge of thinking how to prepare himself for these following eventualities until the thunder goddess herself asks him to elaborate on his compliment.

“ Oh? ” he raises an eyebrow, much more intrigued by this unanticipated reaction. “ I can’t say I’m terribly used to lady nor lord paying my odes to beauty any mind, but for you I would be more than happy to indulge!

“ Lady Ishtar, you cannot be so blind as to your own finer traits, can you? Your eyes are a storm to which any man can get lost in! Your hair— surely, the fairy tales of silver-haired maidens were written of YOUR visage! And your stance most of all, it exudes a very attractive confidence. You’ve taken notice of the way you plant your feet in the ground in relation to the rest of the way you carry yourself, yes? ”

Perhaps it’s from a youth spent in Isaach around strong-willed women that clues him in on the vibe his words may carry for after a brief pause from his burst of enthusiasm, he reels it in and lowers his tone as he adds, “ Oh, of course, I do not dream to woo you. I have not the time for that, not when I have my hands full and my eyes having fallen on another a long time ago anyhow. ”

“Let’s just say it’s been a while since I heard someone other than the Emperor or my cousin bring them up.” Ishtar chuckled over the rim of her glass. In truth it had been a while since she’d thought of herself positively as well, a lingering resentment over her body and appearance considering who had previously controlled it. She hadn’t quite realized how starved she’d become for compliments from…anybody, really. And while the ones she got from Seliph she would treasure deeply, hearing them from people who she wasn’t in the midst of courting helped her remember that taking care and pride in herself wasn’t entirely unworthy of her time.

“I think, perhaps, our emperor’s mother might have been a better muse for silver-haired women. A fondness for it does seem to run in his family.” She chuckled again, cheeks flushing a little from the drink and the compliments as she closed her eyes and let herself live with them. For a moment she was younger again, flitting through court with all the confidence in the world, Julius watching with jealous pride from the sidelines…

“Of course. Another.” Ishtar’s shoulders locked up for a second at that, suddenly reminded of what Seliph had told her of him. Larcei. She glanced around the hall, the hand holding her glass shaking a little with rage and anxiety alike. “Is she…here, tonight? If so I had best excuse myself before something rash occurs.”

  “ Then THAT is a crime. ” Iuchar raises his glass, tipping it slightly in her direction before he takes a sip from it himself. He places it down flat on the table before he begins to speak again. “ Though I suppose many a man grows too easily jealous; but what is the use of beauty if not for the world to enjoy it? Appreciate with the eyes, not with the body, you could say. ”

It’s cheap wisdom but old habits die hard. The urge to go at length about such philosophies increases despite a recess of his mind telling him he must act more MATURE. His love for the sentimental and the romantic was a fragment of the past that must be washed away so that he may be the prince that his people needed.

Just for tonight, at least, he could be this way.

Iuchar nods at the reference to Empress Deirdre. He recalls a little of her, though he hadn’t many opportunities to see her much before she had perished. He does recognize that she was of a saintly beauty, or at least that was how the people spoke of her; but she was more known for her tragedy and how Verdane loved her so. “ Perhaps, but I see a goddess before me. Her Royal Highness was nothing more than a far-off figure for the time she was on this earth— hardly the kind of person I can say one way or another is muse material. ”

When Ishtar’s mood noticeably shifts, Iuchar’s too changes to match with a silent concern. Before he can ask, she is the one to pose a question first.

“ …Ah. No, she is not, ” he answers. “ Last message I’ve received states she’s in Isaach. Rest assured, it would be quite the journey for her to make her way here tonight… ”

“Good. If she was here this would turn into something of an incident.” Ishtar growled. Her temper was far too gone to acknowledge his most recent spat of compliments, even though she had worked to tease them out - her confidence vanishing under a wave of rage and sadness that she never quite knew how to control.

She should have checked that the Isaachian delegation wasn’t here first - that was shortsighted of her. She wasn’t sure even Seliph could reign her back in should another confrontation arise, and she forced herself to take a steadying breath.

“How do you stand it?” She said after a moment, needing some kind of outburst before the tension building up inside her triggered some kind of attack. “Being around and near the people who killed your brother - every time I see Shannan or his cousins I remember Ishtore and Liza, and I want nothing more in the world than to strike them down. How can you just - spout poetry and rub shoulders with the ones who killed your brother?!”

    IUCHAR KNEW A THREAT WHEN HE HEARD ONE. The axe wielder sips at his drink, hoping that the mood wasn’t going where he thought it was but it turns out that Ishtar’s growl was just a prelude for what was the to come.

Her outburst reminds him ironically of Iucharba — of dinners where his younger brother would voice displeasure at both him and their older brother and father alike. He’s surrounded by ghosts, and though in those memories he elected to remain quiet in the voice of such tumult, he thinks it would be a disservice to the graves of Dozel to offer only silence.

❝ To keep myself from drowning in the guilt. ❞ His voice is clear and decisive as he places down his glass, now completely empty, on the table between them. He remains calm though his countenance has long turned pitiful. ❝ I never cast the blame on anyone but myself for that sin — that’s the difference between you and me, Milady. For me, who struck Iucharba is irrelevant. We both knew one of us was going to die when we heard His Highness was on the move to liberate Isaach. ❞

“Unless you cut him down yourself that hardly seems like something you could blame yourself for.” Ishtar growled. Her fingers tightened around her upper arms, her long gloves the only things keeping her from scratching and clawing at the flesh as she used to. “My brother never wanted to hurt anyone, he just wanted to keep us safe-”

She snapped herself out of it with some difficulty, noticing the increasing number of stares in her direction. She gave Iuchar a strained smile, fingers still trembling and clenching her arms hard enough to bruise as she tried to keep her composure.

“I think I’ve quite ruined the night.” Ishtar said shakily, tasting something harsh and metallic in her mouth. She must have bitten her cheek at some point during her fit. “Could you show me to the guest chambers, sir? Seli–the Emperor can handle everything from here, I’m sure.”

   DEFINING WHAT WAS FAIR had never been an easy task. He had prepared himself for her to grow angry, yes, but to make a scene was another thing entirely. He didn’t know anything about Ishtore really, and this is the first, maybe the last, time he hears of him.

Perhaps it was Jugrali fate to lose a twin. Julius, Iucharba, Ishtore… not to mention the tales of House Jungby thinking they had initially lost Lady Brigid.

❝ Of course, if you wish it. ❞ Iuchar pulls out his chair and stands, beckoning Ishtar to follow. As he leaves the room, he levels an icy stare at all the people who may begin to murmur ill words of the empress.

Tones of it remain in his voice accidentally once they’re traversing through less busy halls on their way. ❝ Earlier you said you ruined the night. I don’t think so. I think it better to express some raw emotion like that now and again. ❞

He chuckles a little under his breath.

❝ I find myself quite envious of the ability. ❞

“It’s not something my family approved of growing up.” Ishtar followed him sullenly, although she inclined her head slightly to show she appreciated his help. Her hands were still shaking as she clasped them behind her back, the worst of her fit fading with the intensity of her memories.

“Repressing it might have led to some…issues in how I deal with my darker moments these days.” The empress said quietly once they were alone, deciding that after her display in the banquet hall she may as well speak the truth. “I miss my brother every day. And when I see the people who killed him and his fiance spoken of like heroes…it hurts.”

She smiled, bitterly. “I’m sorry. I know you and Larcei are close. But I’ve spent the last five years avoiding being in the same room as her or Shannan, and that much will need to continue for as long as Isaac remains an ally.”

      a lady groomed to be first a princess and then later an emperor’s wife would surely be suppressed by her parents. iuchar does not doubt that. however, he is not all too much an expert on it no matter how much he declares himself a fan of women. his house had always been a ruckus of rowdy boys, his father included. he scarcely recalls his mother now.

yet, despite this, ishtar lets herself speak to him. his guess is that this must be seliph’s influence then; he had always been the kind to wish to even the field — the kind of person who would build up others when they saw nothing in themselves. iuchar had thought that only a luxury afforded to the boy’s childhood friends, but he knows after years of fighting that this is not true. the woman before him is further proof if he still clung to disbelief.

“ no, it is quite fine, ” he replies back, formality used to coat his own uncertainty on how to approach this new truth. “ emotions may be held back, but that does not make them any less relentless in their attack on our souls. that, my dear company, is the beauty and the tragedy of living! ”

still, though he may offer empathy to the empress, that does not mean he can leave a particular stone unturned. “ it sounds like you believe isaach shall make an enemy of us one day. …rather soon, may i add? ”

“What? No.” Ishtar started a little at that, a confused look crossing over her face. Was that really the intention he’d taken from her words? She paused and worked over them again, groaning and cursing herself mentally. Yes, of course, she had said ‘as long as’. Gods forbid, she needed to watch her words.

Stupid of her. She was normally better with that. She pinched her nose and shook her head for a moment, recollecting herself.

“I’m not so incensed to believe that Shannan or his heirs would declare war on us one day.” She smiled at him, the fake diplomatic look sliding onto her face over the bitterness, the anguish and the alcohol-enabled rage.

“They won’t make an enemy of Grannvale as a whole…just one of me. And I’m afraid that isn’t likely to change until I die.” Her smile slipped, and she frowned again. “…Seliph speaks about sending our daughter to Isaach to be fostered for a few years once she’s old enough. I have spoken against it quite vehemently, but been unable to provide a true alternative.”

  the brunet’s features relax when the conversation clears up. “ forgive my dire assumption then, your highness. ” though he hears her correct herself on her slip of the tongue, iuchar still apologizes nevertheless. his connection to isaach makes him feel like he’s in a precarious position here. he doubts a full-scale conflict all the same, but a tumultuous continent in politics was hardly much better…

“ i can understand why your husband would desire that. he grew up in isaach himself unless my memory of the events has been horribly misled somewhere. i am sure he is sentimental for his past home… ” careful, he cautions mentally to himself. “ i cannot presume to know him better than you, my lady, but i cannot imagine his highness to be unwilling to change his mind. do you not have a relative in silesse now? what of that? surely, it is a grand enough opportunity for compromise — you hold faith and love in your family in there, and it is the kingdom of your dear lover’s former tactician, is it not? ”

he finds as more words flow out of his mouth, his good mood is easier to recover. he’s smiling without realizing it, his eyes sparkling all the same as he praises the northern kingdom. “ i have heard tales that it is a simply wonderful landscape to be in as well. truth be told, i have always wished to visit there myself one day, though i cannot say the stars are so kind as to provide me reason to. alas! ”

“Yes. My cousin lives there - and the other grew up there as well, before he returned to Friege in my stead.” Ishtar said steadily. Her face slipped for a brief second on thinking about the home she could not dare to show her face in again before she shrugged, managing to regain some of her own energy as Iuchar spoke. 

“The snows are quite beautiful there. I can’t imagine Swanhild would enjoy it, however - the child complains about our winters more than enough. Perhaps I should ignore my own grudge with Shannan and let her speak up as to where she could be fostered, once she’s old enough to understand at least.” Her smile slipped for a second before returning again, forced and with a certain eerie calm around it.

“I mourn my twin every day, that’s all. I find it hard to look his killer in the eyes without remembering his face.” She said steadily. She could feel he attack starting to fade at least, but she wasn’t particularly inclined to try and push her luck.

“I should try and get some sleep.” She said, haltingly. “When you return to the halls…tell Seliph not to worry about me. When he inevitably pushes for details, just tell him that I have it under control this time - he won’t be needed for now.”

Her smile flickered away and she sighed. “I’ll see you in the morning, sir. Thank you for helping me after my…outburst.”

  “ of course, the child’s judgement may be best. i had not realized how the little flower had become; time becomes more and more a whir as each day passes! ”  the reminder makes him wonder if dozel’s reconstruction might be running too slowly to make his people satisfied. he is no longer in the early stages of his youth, where each year was some grand, tremendous portion of time. he wasn’t changing so much anymore, for better or for worse.

iuchar peers into ishtar’s gaze, wondering if the glow of her smile has so quickly turned back to ice. it is at least not quite the same vitriol that had possessed her earlier that night, but her words do still sting.  “ …it is natural to mourn your twin. heavens knows i do every day. ”  

even in these halls, he still feels iucharba’s ghost despite iuchar knowing full well his brother had perished in isaach.

maybe that land too holds more of a sour taste for him than he wishes to believe.

“ of course, i will keep this in confidence from your husband when i see him. ”  iuchar wrestles himself away from his thoughts, nodding at the request his guest had given him. before he turns, he too says,   “ i look forward to the morning with the two of you. sweet dreams, my lady. ”

[yellowfeather84]

Is there a passage on the book where is described Fergus' reaction to see Claire is back?

There is! And I love his confusion of how this is all going to work out with Jamie’s current marital status. 

I sat back on the small velvet sofa, feeling mildly dazed. Somehow I hadn’t realized that quite so much went on in brothels in the daytime. 

There was a sudden loud hammering at the door. It didn’t sound like knocking, but as though someone really were using a metal-headed hammer to demand admittance. I got to my feet to answer the summons, but without further warning, the door burst open, and a slender imperious figure strode into the room, speaking French in an accent so pronounced and an attitude so furious that I could not follow it all. 

“Are you looking for Madame Jeanne?” I managed to put in, seizing a small pause when he stopped to draw breath for more invective. The visitor was a young man of about thirty, slightly built and strikingly handsome, with thick black hair and brows. He glared at me under these, and as he got a good look at me, an extraordinary change went across his face. The brows rose, his black eyes grew huge, and his face went white. 

“Milady!” he exclaimed, and flung himself on his knees, embracing me about the thighs as he pressed his face into the cotton shift at crotch level. 

“Let go!” I exclaimed, shoving at his shoulders to detach him. “I don’t work here. Let go, I say!” 

“Milady!” he was repeating in tones of rapture. “Milady! You have come back! A miracle! God has restored you!” 

He looked up at me, smiling as tears streamed down his face. He had large white perfect teeth. Suddenly memory stirred and shifted, showing me the outlines of an urchin’s face beneath the man’s bold visage. 

“Fergus!” I said. “Fergus, is that really you? Get up, for God’s sake—let me see you!” 

He rose to his feet, but didn’t pause to let me inspect him. He gathered me into a rib-cracking hug, and I clutched him in return, pounding his back in the excitement of seeing him again. He had been ten or so when I last saw him, just before Culloden. Now he was a man, and the stubble of his beard rasped against my cheek. 

“I thought I was seeing a ghost!” he exclaimed. “It is really you, then?” 

“Yes, it’s me,” I assured him. 

“You have seen milord?” he asked excitedly. “He knows you are here?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh!” He blinked and stepped back half a pace, as something occurred to him. 

“But—but what about—” He paused, clearly confused. 

“What about what?” 

“There ye are! What in the name of God are ye doing up here, Fergus?” Jamie’s tall figure loomed suddenly in the doorway. His eyes widened at the sight of me in my embroidered shift. “Where are your clothes?” he asked. “Never mind,” he said then, waving his hand impatiently as I opened my mouth to answer. “I havena time just now. Come along, Fergus, there’s eighteen ankers of brandy in the alleyway, and the excisemen on my heels!” 

And with a thunder of boots on the wooden staircase, they were gone, leaving me alone once more.