#he dyes his hair & feathers from their natural b&w

[saym0-0]

general life series designs for Grian and Joel :3 their wings are clipped bc they cant fly in the life series and ik other ppl draw them tied back or straight up vanished but i feel like this way makes the most sense? like it doesn't directly injure them (although birds with clipped wings are often clumsier and hurt themselves on accident more often) but evens the playing field a bit

sketch in the corner is of joel and his wolves in 3rd life btw

and the other one was meant to be ren and martyn on skizzle point yk when they're cornered (also in 3rd life)

[bunnyywritings]

May I please have headcanons on how hawks and grown up!midoriya would react if their daughter turned into a villain if it's ok? Thanks!!

their daughter becoming a villain

[a/n: this is such an amazing prompt! Thank you anon 💓I’m guessing the daughter is the reader? If that’s not what you had in mind then go ahead and let me know ☺️ I tried to make it as angsty as possible, I hope you enjoy! Uhh these came out longer than I thought...sorry -yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´-]

takami keigo

✾ he honestly had no idea you existed

✾ he was on parole one day and there was an incident

✾ he was too far to help but he saw the headlines

✾ the hero had completely disregarded the woman being held hostage and had gone for the villain

✾ this resulted in the woman being brutally murdered

✾ his stomach churned as he shut off the tv, she had looked vaguely familiar but he shrugged it off

✾ later on in the day, he got a call

✾ he had a kid...a daughter to be exact

✾ the woman he had just seen on tv was the mother, someone he had a one night stand with and forgot about

✾ so there he was, sat across from a 13 year old with his wings and her mother’s lightning, who had refused to talk to him

✾ it took a few months but you finally warmed up to him, even calling him dad/papa

✾ you had gotten accepted into UA and were very excited

✾ it wasn’t till the anniversary came up, you though you had repressed the memory but it all rushed back

✾ and as time went on, everyone saw the change

✾ you were questioning the principles of being a hero, questioning why heroes were in the right and all villains were automatically in the wrong just because they didn’t agree with the ideals of being a hero

✾ the last nail in the coffin was when you met Dabi

✾ it was completely by accident but you had recognized him and had asked him what it was like to be in the LOV

✾ he was gonna completely brush you off since he knew why your wings looked familiar but the tears in your eyes and the genuine pain in your voice tugged at his heart and he had taken you to the hide out and had somehow convinced shigaraki to hear you out

✾ he did and invited you to join...an invitation that you had greatfully accepted

✾ sneaking back into the house, you got a few things and left nothing but a feather on your pillow

✾ that was the last time your dad saw you

✾ until...

-

After having run away from home, you were confined to the LOV hideout for a bit because police and heroes alike were searching for you and Shigaraki didn’t want you to draw attention.

Taking a page from Dabi’s book, you bleached and dyed your hair. It was now a bright, fun color instead of the drab natural hair you had before. You quite liked it. Your wings, however, were the same maroon as before. There wasn’t much you could do about it, at least not until one day that Toga had rushed into the hideout with some pet safe dye she bough. It would effectively dye your wings without damaging them and without needing to use bleach. Whenever you looked into the mirror, you barely recognized yourself. Your hair a fiery red and wings a jet black. Dabi had even given you a few piercings per your request, your favorite was the tongue one.

“Hmm so what d’you think?” You hummed, sticking your tongue out to show the metal stud.

“Ooh (y/n)! You look so adorable!” Toga squealed in delight.

“I agree, it looks super cute!” Twice agreed before downturning his thumb. “Looks terrible! Any hero with a magnet quirk would rip it out!” You giggled and thanked him.

Dabi watched from the side, a small smile tugging at his lips. It had been a bout a year since you had joined and he had noticed that you were way happier than before. He had felt a connection with you and he couldn’t help but see you almost as a little sister. He looked out for you, made sure you were eating and sleeping well.

After you had been missing for around two years, Keigo gave up looking for you. He had lost hope of ever finding you. There was a new villain who had joined the league that he had to worry about, it didn’t seem like they were up to anything violent...just petty crime. He couldn’t help but notice that as the anniversary of your mothers’ death came up, the crimes got more and more violent. It wasn’t until he was called on the scene that he had realized why.

On that day, Shigaraki had called a meeting. You were finally going to get the chance to get justice for your mother and there was absolutely no hesitation when you had agreed to come along. You had just through you were going to go in and smack him around a bit. You definitely did and it was more than a bit, but he was still breathing when you left him a limp mess on the ground...just barely. What you hadn’t noticed was that Dabi had gone in after you and set fire to the agency, after making sure those who weren’t targets had made it out. So you were a bit surprised to see the building being engulfed by gorgeous blue flames. Dabi smirked and threw an arm around your shoulder.

“How’s it feel kid? He finally paid up.”

“Yeah, and I say good riddance.” You smirked along with him, absolutely no remorse in your voice.

“B-aby bird?” You cringed at the name. Dabi frowned as he felt you tense up. Both of you turning around to see Hawks and Endeavor. He couldn’t believe it was really you. “(Y-Y/n)...w-what did you do to y-yourself?” There was tears in his eyes as he looked you over. Watching as you rolled your eyes, reaching a gloved hand up and removing the muzzle like mask from your face.

“What do you think Keigo?” You spat, “I got justice. That disgusting excuse for a human being murdered my mother and was basically praised for it!”

“That’s still a human being...where’s his justice?” His mind was racing, trying to figure out what in the hell was going on.

“We just gave him his justice, bird-brain!” Dabi snickered from beside you.

“You’re more angry about this bastards death than my mother’s?” You stalked over to your ‘father.’ “HOW DARE YOU! My mother was INNOCENT! She was held hostage and murdered because a hero wanted to make it on the front page!” Your feathers ruffling up with your anger, lightning crackling to life around them.

“I thought-but you said you wanted to be a hero? W-what happened?”

Scoffing, you brought your finger up to your cheek and pulled down the skin under your eye, tongue sticking out and a wicked look in your eye. “Things change pops! Try and catch me if you can!” You felt Kurogiri’s warp gate ruffle your feathers and you tugged at Dabi’s coat sleeve. He threw his arm around you once again and stuck his tongue out at both pro heroes as well, Keigo took notice of the matching tongue piercings the both of you had. “I’ve got a new family, I don’t need a phony holding me back.” You winked, flapping your wings and both you and Dabi leaned back and fell into the the purple mist. While Dabi’s heart swelled with warmth at your words, Keigo’s grew cold and crumbled into little pieces. He fell to his knees, holding out both his hands to catch the stray feather that had floated down. He gently caressed it with his gloved thumb, gazing sadly at the faded black dye, the natural maroon was faint but it shone through.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Kicking himself and trying to see where everything went wrong.

He lost his baby...he wasn’t sure if he’s ever bounce back from it. Not only was it the day that your mother died but it was the day he lost you too.

pro! midoriya izuku

✰ never would he had thought that things would end up like this

✰ he had been blessed with a beautiful wife, but with a healthy set of twins

✰ a baby boy and girl

✰ however, you were both quirkless

✰ either way, you and your brother were loved and cared for

✰ you grew up idolizing both All Might and your father

✰ it wasn’t until the both of you were going to take UA entrance exam that it happened

✰ you both new that he had possessed One for All

✰ so when your brother had suddenly manifested a quirk, your heart broke

✰ Midoriya watched as tears cascaded down your cheeks, a blank look in your eyes

✰ you couldn’t believe it, he had passed it down to your brother...

✰ you withdrew your application for the hero course and applied to the General Studies course

✰ with your grades alone, you instantly got in

✰ and even as your father congratulated you, you could see the overwhelming pride in his eyes as he praised your brother for getting into the Hero Course

✰ it wasn’t until your third year that you had enough

✰ you watched your brother receive special treatment, how he flew through each semester with absolutely shit grades but he was going to take your father’s place as the symbol of hope

✰ you watched your brother become the pride and joy of the family

✰ your accomplishments never even got any attention, always being brushed off by your father who was too busy helping with your brother’s training

✰ even your mom ignored you in favor of babying your brother

✰ so you left

✰ it took them a whole three days to notice

✰ in the first week of working as what society viewed as a “villain”, you made quite the name for yourself, in your first year of working...well, let’s just say that there was a good amount of heroes on the look out for you

✰ in reality, the villains were the ones abusing their power to oppress those that lacked those insignificant quirk cells...those a re the people you got rid of

✰ you had captured a low level “hero” that had been framing innocent people for crimes they didn’t commit, all to get his name to the top of some stupid list

✰ that’s when your father saw you again

-

“How pathetic.” You spat, wiping the blood from your Bowie knife on your black cargo pants. The man whimpered in fear, still trying to escape his restraints. Relacing your boots, you stomped on his ankle. A sickening crack echoeing through the empty room. Tears leaked from his blindfold. “This would be so much easier if you confessed, y’know?” You chuckled manically, gazing into the camera before refocusing on the task at hand. “No? Okay then.” Shrugging, you pulled the cloth sack over his head.

You fixed the plain face mask that you had worn and made your way into the convenience store and picked up some cheap and quick things to eat before heading back to the abandoned warehouse that was working as your base for now

What you hadn’t noticed, was the person following you. They watched as you entered the building.

“Deku...I can’t believe I’m saying this but I think it’s her.” He spoke into the earpiece. “I’m going in.”

Back inside, you sighed and tossed the wrapper of your meat bun to the side. You were growing irritated. You had this man chained up for three days and he hadn’t said a word. No matter how much you cut at his skin, no matter how much you made him bleed. Growling, you went to your table of toys and grabbed a gun and reloaded the magazine. The sound of a cocking gun made the hero quiver in fear.

“Alright, I’m done playing games with you!” You pulled off the cloth hood and ripped off his blindfold. You placed the muzzle of the gun right under his chin. “Confess or pay for your sins!” His lips quivered.

You were intimidating, despite technically still being a third year. You had a mask that was similar to Shinso’s artificial vocal cords, it distorted your voice and your eyes were wide with insanity. Your outfit could be classified as tech wear. You had a harness strapped above the black long sleeve you were wearing. Multiple knives and other weapons strapped to the harnesses on your thighs.

He stayed silent, eyes glossing over with more tears as you pressed the cold metal into his skin. “OKAY! OKAY! I DID IT!” His voice cracked as a satisfied smirk played on your lips.

“What did you do, Mr. Hero?”

“I-I framed all those people. The ones in jail, people that were put on death row. They’re innocent!”

“Good to know Mr.” You giggled. “The jury finds you guilty of all accusations, Penalty: Death.” You grinned.

“WAIT-!”

A gunshot echoed through the warehouse as he fell limp in his chair. The splattering of warm blood against your skin made you shiver.

“Great, now I’m all dirty...” You sighed.

Just before anything else happened, an explosion sent you skidding across the room.

The dust clearing and your eyes widened. “Uncle Katsuki?” You asked softly.

When Bakugo saw the blood, he panicked that he had hurt you but then he noticed the body that had fallen to the ground. Gun still in your hand. Anger bubbled in his chest.

“YOU DAMN IDIOT!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-“ Before he could finish his reprimands, Shoto ran in.

“Uncle Shoto...” The fog in your head cleared as memories of simpler times flooded your brain. The days where you’d get spoiled by Uncle Katsuki and Shoto before they had their own kids. The comfort they offered you before you ran off.

Shoto took advantage of your distraction and slowly approached you. “(Y/n)...sweetheart I need you to put the gun down okay? You’re safe now.” The look in your eyes was too familiar. It was the way his mother’s eyes looked when he first saw her in the hospital. Broken, lost, terrified. He knew you weren’t in your right mind. Hope filled both him and Katsuki as your trembling hand held the gun out to him. Of course, that was until-

“(Y/N)!!” You flinched, snapping out of your docile state. Eyes hardening once more as you kicked away form Todoroki’s knelt form. Seeing your father filled you with absolute rage.

Midoriya froze, eyes running over the scene. Realization setting in as he saw the gun clutched in your hand.

“D-did you do that?” He asked, eyes glossy.

“And what about it?” You giggled. “Why do you care all of a sudden? HUH? DAD? WHY NOW?!”

“You’re a murderer (y/n)...a villain.”

“Better than being a phony and pathetic hero! I’M NOT IN IT FOR THE MONEY!” You growled, cocking the gun and pointing it at Midoriya. “But he was. He’s had dozens of people locked away for life, people sent to the electric chair for things they didn’t do...all because he wanted to be in the top 10.” You shrugged, biting your lip coyly. “He’s the real villain here, not me.”

Midoriya clenched his fists, holding in his tears. It felt like his heart was violently being ripped from his chest. “I thought I raised you better. How do you think your mom feels? Or grandma? Your own brother-“

“Uhm, news flash! This is all your fault! Plus, I couldn’t care less about my degenerate of a brother!” That’s what made Shoto and Katsuki realize what happened. “WHY?! WHY HIM?!” They were all caught off guard by the tears that drenched your cheeks. “I worked hard and did my best...but that wasn’t enough for you! He was failing all his studies but NOBODY CARED! He was your successor and that was enough! I got a B on my final exam and all you did was give me a lecture about the importance of studying...HE FAILED! HE GOT AN F AND ALL YOU SAID WAS TO TRY HARDER NEXT TIME!”

The tears finally escaped Midoriya’s eyes. ‘Did he really do that to you?’ ‘Had he been such a terrible father that it drove you to this?’

“HOW WAS A QUIRKLESS DISSAPOINTMENT LIKE ME SUPPOSED TO COMPETE WITH THE GREAT DEKU’S SUCCESSOR?! YOU BASICALLY SET ME UP FOR FAILURE!” The tears were streaming down your face but instead of sobs leaving your lips, they were replaced by deranged giggles. “It’s okay Papa...don’t feel bad. It’ll all end soon.” No one noticed when you pulled the pin from the sphere in your hand. Not until the flash bang went off and everyone turned to shield their eyes.

Once they regained their senses, you were far gone. Leaving behind empty meat bun wrappers and several cassettes taped with confessions of those that you had ruled guilty. He screamed. It was so gutteral that it hadn’t sounded human. His body filled with dread and anguish.

“I’m sorry (y-y/n)...I never meant to-“ A choked sob interrupted his whispers. Then another...then another. Both Katsuki and Shoto watched helplessly as their friend completely broke down. Their hearts heavy as well. The little girl they watched grow up was gone.

“I lost her...she’s gone.”

𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱(open) : @ohbois-biggay-bnha @yuiji-yuiji

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

the best by far is you: chapter 15

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you -  Cecilia and the satellite

————

Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Chapter 15 

April 17, 1746

Jamie straightened his shirt and tied the stock at his neck. The new shirt didn’t fit him exactly, tight in the arms and chest, but it would have to do. He caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror sitting atop the bureau and the sight of his dark locks still gave him a shock. Even less of a shock but still noticeable to him was the sight of his clean-shaven face. He looked rather boyish and perhaps that was for the best, as much as he hated the look. He’d have to keep up with the shaving as diligently as he did with the natural hair dye.

“A leannan, are ye ready to go?” 

He turned to see Faith perk up at those words. She wore a simple gown that Mary had managed to find the day before, and he’d helped Faith with her stockings and shoes only a few minutes ago but noticed one foot was already shoe-less. “Faith, where is yer shoe?”

She looked about the room, as if it had only occurred to her then that one was missing. “Dinna ken.”

He found it quickly, just on the floor by the side of the bed, and knelt in front of Faith to slip it back on her wee foot. He felt her hands come to rest on his shoulders to steady herself while she stood momentarily on one foot. It was a small moment ‒ just the act of helping this wee lass with her shoe ‒ but his heart squeezed all the same, for the simple trust she had in him to help her. Their heads were bent right next to each other’s so once he’d straightened her shoe, he lifted his head and gave her cheek a kiss.

She smiled and stamped her foot down excitedly.

“Aye, ye ready tae go now?” He laughed, pushing one stubborn red curl off her forehead and back behind her bonnet. “There. Now ye’re ready.”

 They left from Inverness in a coach bound for Edinburgh, having discussed the plan with Mary the night before. Unsure of what to do with Donas, Jamie had arranged to have him hitched to the back of the coach.

They were jounced along in the coach as the wheels turned over the rough terrain of the main road from Inverness. Jamie had forgotten how it felt, having not stepped foot in a carriage since Paris. Faith wasn’t too keen on it, either, since all the jostling about meant that she couldn’t move around. Instead, she was stuck in Jamie’s lap or on the seat next to him.

Mary sat across from them and stared out the window. When the coach lurched suddenly, she grabbed her belly subconsciously.

Jamie had almost forgotten in his haste to make a new plan yesterday: she carried Alex Randall’s child ‒ more than that, she carried within her the start of a line that ended 200 years from now, with the man Jamie had just returned Claire to.

It was an odd realization, and though he held no ill feelings towards Mary, he did inwardly curse the twisted, tangled ties between his family and the Randalls.

On a particularly rough bump, Mary grabbed her belly and this time caught Jamie’s eye and quickly looked away, her face aflame.

Oh, aye, he wasn’t supposed to know about the baby. She wasn’t supposed to have a baby to think of yet, having only married Randall less than a week ago.

“Claire told me ye were wi’ child,” he offered, his tone purposefully light. She visibly relaxed at those words but didn’t say anything. Perhaps she’d assumed he would have judged her harshly for the child that was clearly conceived out of wedlock, but she’d never understand the necessity of this baby’s life to Jamie, how the child was part of the pattern that brought Claire into his life, that ensured there would be someone to care for her back in her time.

“I’m glad ye’ll have a piece of him with ye.”

Mary smiled sadly, her gaze flickering to Faith with a knowing look. His piece of Claire. She looked out the window again, glassy-eyed, and he inwardly chided himself for even bringing the baby up. After all… she’d lost her love less than a week ago. One look at Mary Hawkins Randall was all it took to see she was barely hanging on.

  There was a shout from the front of the carriage and a sudden lurch as the horses began to slow. They were stopping.

“S-s-soldiers,” Mary uttered, catching sight of something out the window.

He grabbed hold of Faith and swiftly moved to the other side of the carriage, taking the seat beside Mary. “Hold her,” he said quietly, passing Faith into Mary’s lap. “And dinna be afraid,” he added, noting her ghostly pallor. “We’ll be alright.”

He didn’t have the benefit of hiding his dirk in the folds of his kilt, but he drew it from its sheath and obscured it from view under the folds of Mary’s dress where it fanned out onto the seat between them.

They could hear voices ahead of them and it seemed an eternity that they waited for the Redcoats to finish addressing the coachman.

Finally, a soldier appeared through the windows and flung open the carriage door on the side closest to Jamie.

Jamie felt Mary flinch at his side. Ah Dhia...

“Mister and Mistress Mayfield?”

“Y-yes,” Mary answered after a moment. The name had been her suggestion ‒ her mother’s family’s name ‒ and it had sounded English enough to Jamie.

The man’s gaze flicked briefly between Jamie and Mary before addressing Jamie again. “Coachman says you are traveling to Edinburgh.”

“Y-y-yes, that’s c-c-c-correct.”

The soldier shot Mary an exasperated look before he swung his gaze curiously back to Jamie, who kept his expression neutral but tightened his grip on the blade.

“Do you always let your woman speak for you, sir?”

“H-he can-can-can’t s-s-s-speak‒”

Each stutter of Mary’s tongue was painful as she struggled to get the words out under the gaze of the increasingly irritated soldier. “Right, and neither can you from the sounds of it,” he muttered. The man eyed Jamie with obvious doubtfulness and turned suddenly, disappearing from the carriage doorway. The murmured voices of the soldier speaking with another filtered in through the open carriage, but Jamie couldn’t make out what they were saying.

He rolled his jaw tensely, and glanced at Mary, trying to give reassurance with only a look, but Mary kept her head down, her attention turned to Faith.

The soldier returned a moment later, his comrade standing at his shoulder, and asked a few more questions about who they were, where they were going, why they were here, and why Jamie couldn’t speak. Each question was answered painstakingly by Mary, whose stutter became more pronounced under the soldiers’ obvious frustration.

They had prepared for an encounter such as this, but it stretched out painfully and stirred up an anxious feeling in his gut. Jamie was tensed and ready, watchful of the soldiers. He had no idea if there were more with them, ahead of the carriage and blocked from his line of sight.

Faith squirmed in Mary’s lap suddenly, trying to slide to the floor, but Mary gripped her tight. “N-n-n-not just yet,” she said softly to the girl.

Faith whined and fired back a quick “no” of her own, and Jamie felt his pulse thrumming in his ears. She hadn’t spoken much, but she did have a distinct Highland lilt to her voice that could be heard if she spoke further.

Mary began to look panicked, struggling to control Faith in front of the soldiers, and Jamie released his hold of the dirk in favor of plucking Faith from Mary’s grasp. He bounced the toddler on his knee and silently prayed to God she would keep still and silent.

“Is that red hair that she has?”

Jamie felt all the breath leave his lungs at the soldier’s words. In all the movement, that wayward curl had slipped free from Faith’s bonnet and fallen across her forehead.

“M-m-m-m-my m-m-m-m‒” Mary tried to jump in with an explanation.

“Christ,” the soldier swore under his breath. “Haven’t got all day to listen to this half-wit,” he turned and said to his companion, though all of them heard loud and clear. Mary made a choked sound at Jamie’s side, but he wouldn’t tear his eyes off of the soldiers.

The man turned back to them with a keen glance between Jamie, Mary, and Faith. Finally, his gaze settled on Jamie and he addressed him, “You sure that child is yours?”

The man smirked then, seeing he’d ruffled Jamie’s feathers, and Jamie’s hand tightened possessively around Faith. “You’re free to go, but I’ll warn you to be careful in these parts. Highlanders will kill you on sight if they know you’re English. Absolute barbarians, they are. Best of luck on your journey.”

And with that, the soldier closed the carriage door and signaled to the coachman that they could leave. The carriage jolted forward and Mary exhaled shakily. “That was b-bloody close,” she said in a tight whisper, and Jamie’s gaze snapped to her in surprise at hearing her curse.

“Ye did well, Mary. I’m only sorry ye had to deal with them at all. Are ye alright?”

Her hands were clasped so tight in her lap that her knuckles were bone-white. “Yes.”

After a moment, she added, “It gets worse w-when I’m upset. My s-st-stutter.”

“Aye, I figured as much. It’s understandable. And it doesna mean ye’re half-witted. Ye canna believe him.”

Mary nodded slightly at this and her gaze shifted out the window. He took that opportunity to move back over to the seat across from her, giving her space.

“And you, a leannan,” he murmured to Faith, adjusting her in his arms to try and encourage her to rest her head. Lord, he had thought for a moment there that they would’ve been found out. His racing heart still hadn’t settled. “Lay yer head, lass. Rest, if ye can.”

She curled in at his neck and sighed heavily. Only a few minutes later, she was asleep.

 The coach stopped at dusk at a tavern along the way. They had been riding in the carriage since they left Inverness that morning and had stopped very few times to stretch their legs and relieve themselves.

Jamie’s body felt stiff and achy as he stepped out of the carriage with Faith in one arm and turned to help Mary down.

The coachman told them what time they would be leaving in the morning and then they were on their own. The tavern was half-populated and not much to look at, but it was warm and there was a hot meal ready for them when they asked.

It wasn’t the same one he’d visited with Claire, when the weather had turned too cold and his troops had taken shelter indoors, so he wasn’t sure why he’d thought of it ‒ and her ‒ as he took in his surroundings.

I miss her…

He could hear her pained voice from that night as clear as a bell, and the guilt and grief stormed his chest once more. And, God, did he miss Claire more than anything else.

 Their room for the night was nicer than he expected ‒ though after eight months at war, Jamie might’ve easily been impressed with a field to sleep in, out under the stars. There was a bed as well as chairs by the fireplace ‒ all looking a little worse for wear but still acceptable. Along one wall was a door which led into a small washroom with an empty tub, a chamber pot, and a small pitcher and basin for washing.

“Spot by the hearth is fine enough for me and Faith tonight,” Jamie said decidedly.

Mary glanced toward the bed. “Faith could share with m-me, I don’t mind.”

He smiled gently at that. “Tis verra kind of ye. But I want to be the one that cares for her, since…” His gaze dropped to Faith, still in his arms, and he struggled to get the words out ‒ that Claire was truly gone. “Since I’m all she has left. And if she wakes, I want tae be there.”

Mary nodded at that and murmured something about cleaning up before disappearing into the back washroom.

Faith appeared to be leached of energy from the full day of traveling and hardly put up a fight when Jamie slipped her out of her travel clothes and into a nightgown. “There, isna that better?”

She rubbed one eye with the back of her hand and sighed, refusing to answer. She’d been chatty at supper but had hardly made a peep since they’d been shown to their room.

“My puir wean,” he chuckled lightly. “Ye look half-asleep on yer feet. Let’s wash up and then ye can rest, mo chridhe.”

He helped her wash up and then splashed his own face and neck with water to wipe away the grit and grime of the day. Mary had already settled in bed for the night so he guided Faith over by the fire where Mary had sensibly provided a pillow and one of the blankets from the bed for them, on top of the thick rug that was already laid there.

In consideration of Mary, Jamie had only removed his waistcoat and stock, and untucked his sark for sleep. He stretched out on the floor and encouraged Faith to lay down. She paced around him before flopping down at his side and letting her head fall on his chest. He rubbed a hand over her back lightly.

“How about a story, lass?” He didn’t wait for Faith’s response, already committed to telling her, but Faith curled up on his chest and seemed ready to listen all the same. “I promised ye I’d tell ye about yer mam.”

“My mam…” Faith echoed softly, tiredly, and his heart clenched to hear her say it.

“Aye, that’s right. Yer mam loves ye so much, a leannan.” He ran his fingers gently over her short wispy curls.

He thought of the moment earlier with the soldiers and a nameless fear he couldn’t identify then.

“Faith,” he said suddenly, “Ye ken… ye ken I’m yer da, aye?” He’d never said it, not in the two days since Murtagh had brought her back into his life and fate had conspired to keep her there with him. She lifted her head and looked at him. “I’m yer da,” he repeated softly, feeling oddly nervous and vulnerable.

Faith dropped her head back onto his chest and was overtaken by a big yawn, nuzzling into Jamie on the exhale. Somehow that was enough. Yes, she knew.

He told her everything he could of the moment he met Claire, mindful that Mary might still be awake and listening, and everything that happened in their early days of friendship at Leoch and falling in love with her. Faith didn’t last long into the tale before sleep claimed her.

At some point before falling asleep, she had shifted so that her whole body was laid along his torso, her head pillowed up by his shoulder.

His hand settled on her back so that he would feel if she started to roll off.

“Used tae be so wee I could hold all of ye in one hand,” he murmured to his sleeping child. “Ye’re so grown, Faith. Hadna realized all that I missed.” He swallowed thickly, feeling a maelstrom of emotion in his chest. “I didna wish tae separate ye both ‒ you ken that. But I… I dinna take it for granted, a nighean… that I get tae be the one that’s wi’ ye now.”

  A loud thud startled him from sleep and he sat up swiftly, clutching Faith as he did, but of course she was roused, too.

His first realization was that it hadn’t grown dark in the room ‒ the fire was still blazing in the hearth ‒ so he must not have been asleep for too long.

His second realization was that the sound had come from someone busting the door of their room open.

Standing there in the open doorway was a ghost of Jamie’s past. Someone Claire had promised would die yesterday, on the battlefield of Culloden.

Mary scrambled out of bed with a scream, landing on the side away from the door, as Jamie stood to his feet. Black Jack Randall took that time to wander into the room and close the door behind him.

“You both look rather shocked. Hmm? Didn’t expect that I’d come after you?”

“Y-y-y-you died…” Mary looked from Randall to Jamie.

“Mary,” Jamie said evenly, never breaking eye contact with Randall, “take her into the other room.”

He’d shifted towards her so Mary could grab Faith. Not needing further coaxing, Mary and Faith disappeared into the back room.

“I must say, for as much of a fuss as you’ve made over your beloved wife before, it was surprising to learn you’d taken mine away right under my nose.” Randall’s tone was dripping with disdain, his eyes ablaze with maddening fury.

Jamie stepped carefully back towards the fire, towards where he’d left his blade within reach while he’d slept. His mind was still reeling and he wasn’t up for Randall’s mind games.

Nevertheless, Randall pressed on, looking half-crazed as he came more into the light. “What happened, Fraser? Your wife realized she couldn’t actually forgive you? Couldn’t even bear to take your child with her when she left?”

Jamie saw red at those words, could hear his own pulse echoing in his ears. “Ye willna speak of my wife or my child ever again.”

Randall was advancing on him, armed with his own sword.

“Did ye no’ even fight in the battle then?” Jamie asked, trying to distract him. Claire said he would die there, and yet…

Randall bristled at the insinuation. “I fought,” he spat. It was then Jamie noticed the slight gash on the side of Randall’s head. The blood had crusted over, no longer bleeding, but the wound was there. “But where were you? Hmm? Fleeing the battle and stealing Mary away. That’s my brother’s child she’s carrying!”

 Mary latched the door as soon as it shut, plunging her and Faith into complete darkness. There were no windows and she hadn’t thought to grab a candle. But the latch on the other door hadn’t stopped him from breaking into their room tonight, she realized. Shifting Faith to one hip, she began to feel about the small room for any sort of weapon. Her choices were severely limited and she’d started to search for something heavy in lieu of dangerous when her fingers felt Jamie’s straight razor. That would have to do.

She set Faith down in the farthest corner from the door. Grumpy and confused, the small child began to whimper. “D-d-don’t cry, Faith.” Mary flipped open the blade and went to stand in front of Faith. Just then, she heard John’s voice raise and his words sent a chill down her spine ‒ That’s my brother’s child she’s carrying.

Her free hand went to her curved belly ‒ her last piece of Alex. She couldn’t shake the image of John on the day she’d had to marry him, the day she lost Alex. The way he’d acted… the way his voice raised now. She wouldn’t let him near her child. She couldn’t.

She was vaguely aware of Faith’s small hands grabbing fistfulls of her robe to hold onto her. A sweet innocent child, and the only thing between her and the man Mary most feared was Mary herself.

Something loud crashed outside the room, and she could no longer hear any voices. Only the sounds of a scuffle. She reached behind her and stroked Faith’s hair, hoping to soothe the child, but unable to turn from the door. She held the razor in hand in case it was needed.

It felt like an eternity in that small room before it grew uncomfortably quiet. No sounds from out there.

Until someone tried the door and Mary nearly jumped out of her skin, pressing Faith further behind her.

“Mary? It’s me. Ye can unlock the door but dinna let Faith out here yet.”

“Is-is he‒?”

“Gone. That is, I need to move the… the body.”

Relief swamped her and she let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Are ye alright in there?”

“Yes. We’re b-both fine.” She closed the straight razor with shaking hands and placed it back by the water pitcher.

“Good. I’ll let ye ken when it’s safe tae come out.”

  Jamie stood in the center of the room, looking down at Randall’s lifeless body. And though it had been Randall that came after him, a death at Jamie’s own hands was still a death on his conscience. A stain on his already dark soul. But he’d do it again in a heartbeat to protect any member of his family, and so he felt absolved of this sin through that divine responsibility alone.

It wasn’t very late in the night ‒ all three of them had been too tired after supper to stay up and went to sleep early, and Randall had found them not long after. He could still hear the indistinct voices and movement from the first floor of the tavern below, so others were still up.

So he couldn’t bring the body out of the room without notice.

And he wouldn’t dare leave it in the room where it could be found the next morning and endanger Mary and Faith if anyone sought after them.

Window it is, then.

He unlatched the window and pushed it open, peering out to see what lay below. The window faced the back of the tavern by where the horses were tied, but directly below the window was nothing but ground. Beyond the small stable was a stretch of trees and, yes, he’d have to be careful, but he could go around back and move the body out toward those trees. No one would be any wiser and it might be a few days at least before anyone found Randall.

  “Mary?” He called out, trying the door to the back room and finding it unlatched this time.

“Here,” she said quietly, her voice enveloped in darkness. He held a candle out towards the sound and saw her seated in the corner with Faith curled up in her lap.

“Is she asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ve… taken care of it, but I’ll need yer help cleaning up. Be best if Faith didna see it.”

He set the candle down and carefully gathered Faith before helping Mary to her feet.

The room was in disarray but the greatest concern at the moment was the small pool of blood on the floor.

Jamie set Faith down on the bed for the time being. She curled up into a ball on top of the covers and sighed, never fully waking. He thanked his lucky stars that she had been spared from any further distress on this evening, and with any further luck, she wouldn’t even remember this night in years to come.

His hand smoothed over Faith’s curls. He’d never wanted a bastard such as Randall to even lay eyes on her, but the one comfort to him was that he’d taken Randall out of this world with his own two hands shortly after.

He thought of Fergus then, too, and his throat constricted. He wanted to tell the lad that the monster no longer drew breath, that he had seen to it himself that they would never be tormented by Randall again.

Mary’s gasp pulled him from his thoughts. “You’re injured!”

He looked down at his right arm where a bright red stain had soaked through his white shirt. “Aye,” he acknowledged, tilting his head toward the fire where a kettle was boiling strips of fabric. “That’s what the clean bandages are for.”

Mary took this in stride, and he remembered that she’d spent plenty of time volunteering with Claire at the hospital in Paris. She’d probably heard stranger things than boiling rags from his wife.

“We should take care of that first, before the room. And you’ll need to clean that shirt.”

He was surprised at first to see she meant to help him, but reckoned he couldn’t tie a bandage around his own arm one-handed.

“Aye,” he agreed, digging out his flask of whiskey. “Wash it out with this first.”

He peeled off his shirt and was able to see how deep the gash in his arm went. Claire might’ve stitched it up, but they didn’t have Claire here with them. Only a moment later did he consider how his being shirtless might’ve made Mary uncomfortable ‒ he recalled the way Claire first spoke of her in Paris, as an innocent, naive girl ‒ but she went about cleaning his wound with a detached professionalism, no longer scandalized by the sight of a half-naked man. Still only a young lass at seventeen, but the years since had changed her from that first introduction.

“She’d be furious at me, if she could see me now,” Jamie offered up in the silence.

Mary snorted softly at that, her brows relaxing slightly from their furrowed concentration. He peeked over at Faith where she was still curled up on top of the bed. “I worry…” he began and then stopped, deciding it was perhaps not something Mary would want to discuss just yet.

“What?” she prodded, pausing in her work.

“I worry that I canna keep Claire alive for her. Even telling her stories… it’s no’ the same as having memories. Faith will ken as much about her mother as I can tell her, but it’s no’ the same as knowing a person, knowing what they’d say tae ye. I ken exactly the look Claire would have for me, the way she’d scold me. Faith willna have that same knowledge.”

Mary didn’t respond, but she sighed heavily and he knew. It was the same for her. In the months to come, she would bear a child that would never know his father.

“But we do what we can, I suppose,” Jamie said quietly. He was growing used to her quietness and filling in the silences.

Mary pressed a large bandage over the wound when she was done and tied it as tight as she could manage.

“Thank ye,” he said and stood, going to wash his shirt in the back room.

She made a small sound, both alarmed and horrified, and he realized he’d turned his back to her, giving her full view of his scars.

He turned, finding her looking away now as though she hadn’t seen. But the shock was there on her face. The pity. His skin prickled. “It was Randall,” he said tersely, and turned and left.

 Jamie emerged from the back room later, having cleaned the blood from his shirt as best he could, to find Mary straightening the room. “You t-told me he died b-before the battle…”

His stomach twisted into knots. So it was time for that conversation. Only he couldn’t tell her the truth of the matter. “I thought… I thought he had died. I didna mean to mislead ye, I promise.”

Her hands fiddled with a rag, twisting and folding it and unringing it. “How did he-he find us?”

Jamie sighed, piecing together what made sense from what little Randall had shared. “Seems he returned tae the boarding house some time after we left. Must’ve learnt about the coach and followed after it.”

She appeared visibly shaken ‒ and he couldn’t say he blamed her ‒ but she nodded at that and went back to cleaning up the room.

They worked in silence until the room had been returned to its former state.

“I thought he was a kind man, when I first met him,” Mary said suddenly, as if the words needed to get out. She sunk into the closest chair and Jamie took the other. “H-he was so kind to Alex and he paid for everything once Alex couldn’t work any longer.”

“Ye had no reason to believe otherwise.”

And ye likely dinna ken the whole truth of him still, he thought.

“N-not until it was too late. I saw the way he talked to Claire, and-and when Alex died, how he‒” Mary shook her head abruptly, no doubt reliving the moment.

“I’m sorry for what ye went through, lass,” he said earnestly, though it only added to his relief that the nightmare had ended for more than just his own family.

“When he showed up h-here, I thought… that was it. If he got to me, I’d never get away again. I hid in that room with Faith and your straight razor in case he got through, but I‒” Mary swallowed roughly. “Well. A lot of good that would’ve done, anyway,” she said wryly.

“Ye’re verra brave, Mary. More brave than ye get credit for. I canna forget what ye did tae that bastard at Bellmont last winter ‒ and rightly so. I wouldna want to cross ye while ye wielded a blade.”

Mary let out a surprised laugh at that. “Yes, a terrifying prospect,” she joked.

“I mean it. I’m proud tae call ye my friend. And I thank ye for protecting Faith as ye did, truly. I ken what you’re risking tae help us.”

She smiled awkwardly, and seemed to struggle for a response. He got the impression then that she wasn’t used to such praise. That was the thing he was starting to see clearly about Mary ‒ everyone underestimated her on account of her stutter, her size, her reserved nature. Foolish, really, considering that she’d had strength enough to face one of her attackers and bravery to look a British soldier in the eye and lie to him while sitting next to Red Jamie.

“Well,” he added with some finality in his tone, “It’s gotten rather late and we’ve another long day of traveling ahead of us. I’ll leave ye to yer rest.”

Mary murmured her agreement, both of them feeling the weight of the day in that moment. He gathered Faith from Mary’s bed and carried her over to their spot by the hearth.

Jamie settled Faith on the floor, her head on the pillow, and gently arranged himself next to her, laying on his uninjured side. His arm slung across her protectively, sheltering her, and he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

His last thought before sleep, as it had been the night before, was of Claire. I’ll see that our lass is safe, Sassenach. No matter what comes.