#i know i have been talking about jacobitism a lot it is the love of my academic life

[mayusteapot]

Ooooh! I spy a Perry arriving on the scene. I think I love Ilse and Perry because they seem these larger than life characters who go passionately after what they want without dawdling or procrastinating or having doubts. It's as if there haven't been people who told them they couldn't, or there have been, but they haven't believed them. I wish I could be like that.

I'm sorry, what? You hear a story about a haunted well and you want to *checks notes* go see it?! And actually peer into it [I'm the character in the horror film that doesn't get killed or survive specifically because she never makes it onto the screen] on a pasture with an agressive bull on it? And naturally this is what fascinates Perry from the start.

I mean, I guess this is why Teddy seems so... I don't know... pale, in comparison with characters like Perry who take over the scene as soon as they step there. [I like weird people, it's a character trait of mine. Give me an old lady who loves to watch ferns unfold in the forest (true story) any day over someone who does things that are more... sensible? Though I like shy people too, which is why in real life I might prefer Teddy over Perry too.]

I love the image of Aunt Elizabeth knitting furiously in protest over Emily's choice of reading. Who among us hasn't knitted furiously? And if you haven't, have you really ever lived life to the fullest?

Ilse's attitude to god seems very much bound with her attitude towards her father. As if the "he" in question wasn't god but her father.

A "she jacobite"? I laughed so loud. And now Ye Jacobites by Name is going round and round in my head. An earworm if there ever was one.

Emily does seem to have terrible spelling for someone who reads a lot. People have been commenting on it in this tag before. English is my second language, so I can't comment properly, but according to other people it's weird and not very age appropriate. The translation doesn't have this much mistakes as Finnish is spelled like it is pronounced, so that's not how we blunder at language.

I do love reading Perry talk. The Finnish translation never did reach any of these heights of his interesting speech patterns or usage of words. I always wondered why Ilse was angry at him for them because they seemed completely normal.

[ladyk23]

List 5 topics you can talk on for an hour without preparing any material.

I’ve been tagged by @imsfire2 to list 5 topics I can talk on for an hour without preparing any material. I don’t know what kind of weird lecture she needs speakers for, but here goes:

1) Outlander. How could I not pick this as my first topic? It’s been my utter obsession since 2020. The TV show first, then the books by Diana Gabaldon, the actors - some whom I’ve been lucky enough to meet several times, the locations I’ve been to, the ones I haven’t been to, conventions, premieres, cosplays, you name it, I can probably talk about it, even if you would prefer I didn’t.

2) History. I don’t pretend to be an expert. Ims never said your talk had to be accurate. But I am definitely passionate about it, or at least parts of it. Obviously I said Outlander as my first topic, and that is historical fiction, but a lot of it is based around real events that happened, such as the Jacobite rising of 1745, the battle of Culloden, the American revolutionary war etc. Before Outlander (and still now) I had a big obsession with the Tudor period, so my fascination with history has long been a thing, and Outlander just added fuel to an already raging fire. My secondary school history teacher Mrs Fogg was my favourite teacher for good reason. I often wish I’d continued my education and gone into history more and maybe today I’d be a historian or history teacher myself.

3) Movies. That’s very general, again I don’t know ALL movies, but I could certainly talk for an hour about some of my favourites. I could also throw in stories about movie premieres I’ve been to, actors I’ve met, actors I wish I’d met, which ones I would invite to my imaginary dinner party where you can have anyone alive or dead. How River Phoenix’s death affected teenage me, my crushes from my earliest to my latest, great movie soundtracks, how one person can be a horror fan and love Disney movies too, Jane Austen adaptations, Marvel movies, yep I can talk at length about movies.

4) Writing. Again, I’m no expert. This won’t be a talk about how to get published. But I can talk about my process - how to write a thing and not finish it - or I can talk about my other process - how to write a thing and not finish editing it. I can talk about blogging, writing fan fiction, short stories, and yes, novels, even if I probably won’t ever publish mine. I can talk about the importance of having a writing community to keep you going even when writing is the last thing you want to be doing. I can also talk about how bad grammar and spelling really ruins a novel. My grasp of both of those things leaves a lot to be desired (which is why I clearly need Ims’ proofreading skills), but even I can be taken out of the moment of reading and enjoying a novel, if the writer misspells their main character’s name. 🤦🏻‍♀️

5) I was going to lump this in with Outlander, but honestly I could easily talk for a separate hour about my AMAZING Outlander book club. Established in 2021 by a woman who just wanted a group to keep her accountable in her attempt to read all eight books in the Outlander series. That was it. What actually happened is an incredible community formed, where women support each other and are there for each other in every aspect of life. We became so much more than a book club. We still ARE a book club though. We read all of the eight books we set out to read, then we read the ninth one that was published while we were in the process of reading the eight. Then we started a chronological read of ALL of the books in the Outlander universe, as there are spin off books and novellas too, and we’re currently reading one of the spin off novels as our book this month. We have been on two retreats to the smoky mountains of Tennessee, 30 women in a castle sized cabin for 4 days, and there are no fights, no disagreements, no arguments, no cat fights, just 30 women getting along, laughing together, working together to cook and clean, we tell each other deep important stuff, and get nothing but support back. We’re a family at this point. I love every one of those women and never thought I’d ever find a group like this that has come to mean so much to me, just from joining a book club.

Thank you so much for the tag Ims. I nominate @arms-and-arrows, @littleblueartist, @fishyandclintbarton, @katsdisturbed and @uuuhshiny but only if you feel so inclined.

[uighean]

1, 13, 24, 25, 26? :3 <3

Who is your favourite historical person?

hmmm idk if I have like. a favourite person? there are people I find interesting, but I don't necessarily think about particular named individuals, more the hypothetical people who could have been out there doing and thinking and owning different things, if that makes sense

13. [share some random historical trivia!]

(every time I answer this one all the historical trivia I've ever heard flies out of my head & all I know is jacobitism so)

one of the interesting things about jacobitism imo is that it gets painted as regressive and backwards, through a combination of hanoverian propaganda at the time (drawing on things like the stuarts' belief in the divine right of kings) and later romanticism (equating jacobitism with the last vestiges of a vanished golden age, generally in exclusively highland terms, with this idea that physical travel to the highlands is kind of like travelling back in time - this is an idea that I'd hesitate to call colonial, specifically, but it's definitely borne of the same hierarchical way of thinking about people and places that encourages and is encouraged by true colonialism). so you get this idea that jacobitism is anti-modern, it's clinging on to the past, it's almost primitive. the poor feudal clans against the modernised english army, etc etc. by the 1800s it sits right at the junction of people's enthusiasm for the modern era of 'rationalism' and nostalgia for a 'simpler' past

but then if you look at the way jacobite political and social discourse was actually being disseminated in a lot of circles, it's very explicitly of its era!! and one of my favourite examples of this is jacobite glassware. which is such a classic piece of jacobite material culture, in a lot of ways. I'd even hazard a guess to say that it's the most-studied category of jacobite material culture. and it's absolutely modern, for its time. the intricate designs on jacobite glasses, and so the symbolism that goes along with them, wouldn't have been possible without wheel-turned glass engraving. which was quite new at the time!! so it's this interesting little snapshot of jacobitism very much existing in the present and functioning in the society of its time, rather than just being a throwback

24. Who do you consider to be one of the most underrated historical figures?

ok we're going full on australian from here on out ig

but again a little while ago I listened to the queer as fact episode on andrew george scott/captain moonlite, who was a queer bushranger. and I thought he was a super interesting person in general, in terms of his. determination to speak out on social reform ig? like airing the problems with the prison system and stuff. even when society and the authorities really didn't want to hear it. but also the podcast made a really good point about how bushrangers are such key figures in constructions of australian identity and masculinity, and to have a queer figure in amongst that really complicates those ideas

25. Who is the most overrated historical figure, in your opinion?

in principle I want to say that I can't really think of anyone, in part because like I said I don't think a whole lot about historical figures, but also because I think it's always valuable to look at people from different angles

that being said. captain cook. @ australia I promise we can live without 454397685 statues of him I promise

26. Who do you think is a forgotten hero we should know about and admire?

I watched the australian wars a couple weeks ago (if you're in australia/have access please go check it out, it's absolutely harrowing but it's so important and so good), which is basically a documentary about early colonial-era conflicts between australian indigenous people and european colonisers, and how those wars have been overwritten and ignored ever since. and I was really struck by how. we have a bunch of places now named after prominent indigenous people from that time, like bennelong and barangaroo. but still I knew so little about their actual lives. which is an absolute travesty. we should be taught about the indigenous people who fought for their land rather than them just being props to the european people arriving.

history asks!

[renee-writer]

I Fought the Law Chapter 36 Promises

AO3

The baby lays asleep against her. He is unaffected by the bumping of the wagon over the path. They are on their way to where Dougal should be, the heart of the Jacobite rebellion. She needs to check the baby for there has to be a reason that he was left as a changeling. They will stop for the night soon and she will have a chance.

Jamie looks back on her and the baby. He is concerned about the two of them being so close to the fighting. She has promised to stay in the wagon with Fergus and, Raymond will stand as guard but, he still worries.

“They will be alright. I saw her becoming a mother. I thought it would be by you,” He frowns as he focuses, “It still may be but, she was meant to be his mama.”

“Thank you Raymond. Do you know what will happen tomorrow?”

The man shakes his head. “No. I am sorry.”

Jamie just smiles. “It’s alright. Knowing she will be alright is all that matters. Promise me that if something happens to me that you will see her and the bairn safely back?”

“You have my word.”

They sit around a fire. Claire has Fergus laying on a blanket. She has fully stripped him down and is giving him an exam. Jamie sits beside her. “Anything?”

“He is a neonate. A newborn. His cord hasn’t completely fallen off. Much younger then I believed him to be.” She carefully turns him over, to exam his back. No birth defects that she can see. No spinal bifida, no cleft palates, no club foot. No sign of Down’s syndrome. Nothing but a healthy newborn. “There is no reason for him to have been left.” She swaddles him back up.

“His mother must have been, how do you say it in your time, ah, in trouble.” Raymond offers.

“Oh, that would make sense.” Jamie replies.

“She probably convinced herself that he was a changeling to justify leaving him.” Raymond continues.

Claire lifts him up against her chest. “Poor Lamb, both him and his birth mom. With the many ways there are to prevent pregnancy in our time, it still happens unexpectedly. I imagine that is exponentially more in this time.”

“Ouí, there are a lot of quick marriages.”

“I am just glad he is healthy. May I hold him?”

“Of course Jamie.” She slips the baby into his arms.

“Hello Fergus. You had a rough start, ah lad? Dinna fash for your mammy is a wonderful woman. You will be loved and safe with her. Blessed you are, that she found you.” His blue eyes blink up at the man talking to him. “Claire, I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. I had Raymond promise that he would see you and Fergus back were something to happen to me.”

She is shaking her head. “Nothing will happen to you.”

“I pray not, but just in case,” He slips the baby back into her arms before taken his dirk and pricking his finger with it.

“What are you…?”

“An old ritual. A way to formally claim a child.” He draws a cross on Fergus' head with his blood. “I claim you Fergus James,” He pauses.

“Lambert Fraser.” She adds through her emotion thickened throat.

“Fergus James Lambert Fraser, as my son. You have my name, my clan, and my family. You have all the rights inherit as my child.”

“Jamie.” She is crying.

“I plan on returning to you two, going back to our time and building a life with you. If something happens, go back, raise our son. He will be a Fraser. You are our witness,” The last he addresses to Raymond.

“Ouí, I am.”

“I promise to if, you promise to do all you can to return.”

“I swear to you.”

[whenputtingpentopaper]

The Song

Part I - Kili’s Mistake

Part: I 

A/N: I know the imagine is five years old, but I always loved reading the works that came of it. This is my own spin on the prompt, and there will be multiple parts. This is just the first. This is also my first work for this blog, and I’m very happy to get it out there. It was a joy to write over the past week. Also, the song is the Celtic Women’s version of Mo Ghile Mear, which is originally based on a poem about the Jacobite Rising of 1715. It has an interesting history, but I picked this version because it was the one that came to me when I thought of what the reader might sing. Because it isn’t native to Middle Earth, I changed the meaning of the song a bit; although, if you look at the translated lyrics of the chorus, it could imply the meaning I have assigned to it. Please, give it a listen; everything about it--the vocals, music, lyrics--are beautiful!

Also, requests are currently open, so request here. I am currently accepting requests for headcanons, blurbs, drabbles & one-shots!

Pairing: Kili (Tolkien) x Reader

Words: 2447

Synopsis: Based on the following ImaginexHobbit imagine found here.

Rated: T

Warnings: Language, Nudity & Sexual Themes

Can you feel the river run? Waves are dancing to the sun Take the tide and face the sea And find a way to follow me

The soft lilt of your voice carried through the silence of the night, your only accompaniment the gentle whisper of leaves, the barely there hum of woodland critters, and the sound of drops, rolling down your bare skin to fall to the river from whence they came. Fortunately, the wind was forgiving, tepid against your cooled skin, and the water that surrounded your body up to your waist was the perfect temperature. Refreshing but not freezing.

Leave the field and leave the fire And find the flame of your desire Set your heart on this far shore And sing your dream to me once more

Lifting your arms to bring your brush through another section of hair, you resumed your singing, eyes falling closed.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

It was an old song but pretty, one your mother had used to sing to you when you were but a wee thing. Her ethereal voice combined with the melodic yet mysterious chorus were enough to soothe you to slumber. It was a comfort, even later on in your life, when you learned of the sad story the lyrics were weaving. A woman losing her love; a heartbreaking premise if there ever was one. And yet, it was as beautiful as the full moon’s reflection on this clear night.

Now the time has come to leave Keep the flame and still believe Know that love will shine through darkness One bright star to light the wave

Scooping up some water with your free hand, you brought the liquid to your right arm, rubbing gently against your skin and removing the dirt and grime that had built up from being on the road the past few days. You switched your brush to the opposite palm, repeating the process on the opposite side. It felt so good to be clean, which was why you couldn’t resist the opportunity to break away from your company of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit to come down to this river. You had known it to be here, having passed it earlier in the evening, just before Thorin had decided it was time they make camp. The lot of them had been so excited to finally sit in front of a fire and eat, but not you. Food could wait. You longed for a bath, knowing the last one you had was back in Rivendell.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

You began to braid together the locks of your damp hair, having learned your lesson about letting it fly free while you roamed about Middle Earth. As your fingers twisted in and out, you began to head back towards shore, the wind having a slight chill to it now as it hit more and more of exposed skin. You broke out in gooseflesh as your feet left the water for the fine sand that made the shore. Quickly, urged on by the sudden cold and your nakedness, you finished the large plait, securing it with a band before letting it fall limp against your back. 

Lift your voice and raise the sail Know that love will never fail Know that I will sing to you Each night as I dream of you

You waited a few minutes, using your hands to warm your shoulders as you walked over to the small towel you had laid out on a nearby rock. A tunic and trousers lay beside it, without dampness and warm and calling to you, but you took some time to dry yourself off, bending over to start with your legs before bringing the towel over your stomach and chest. Your arms were last, and the air would remove whatever wetness remained on your cheeks.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

Finally dressed, you gathered your towel and brush, walking back towards the campsite, using deep dwarfish laughter as your guide. There was a slight upslope towards them with trees littering the path you made, but now that you were in a few layers and shoes, you did not mind the walk, continuing to sing softly to yourself until you came to the end of the song. 

A few moments later, you were being greeted by smiles and Bofur asking about your bath.

“It was wonderful, and definitely something I needed,” you responded as you placed your items by your pack before joining the Company around the fire. A bowl was put into your lap, filled about halfway with some stew. It was still steaming, thankfully, and you immediately began to eat, your stomach aching now with the prospect of being filled with food, and Bombur’s food to boot!

“Perhaps we should all partake in a bath before setting out in the morrow,” Bilbo nonchalantly suggested from beside you, and you hid your smile behind the rim of your bowl. He had been complaining of the stench that seemed to permeate the Company; you weren’t the only one having gone without a proper cleansing since your time with the elves.

The golden-haired dwarf was the first to respond to the hobbit’s suggestion, his eyes going wide with mock outrage. “Why, Bilbo, are you suggesting that we stink?”

“You know what, Fili, I think he is suggesting such a thing,” Kili said, lightly hitting his brother’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “The nerve. Especially when he smells just as bad.”

“Aye,” agreed his brother, leaning towards him as he eyed Bilbo with a frown. “If not worse.”

The hobbit looked absolutely livid by the two young dwarves’ banter, and the scowl on his face with his glare directed at them had the opposite effect than what had been desired. The brothers bursted out into laughter, and the rest of the group soon joined in at poor Bilbo’s expense. Even you, who normally took pity on the object of Kili’s and Fili’s wrath were not immune to the infectious hysterics. And so, the rest of the evening continued on with small talk and howling among companions; nothing of any real note happened until you were settling down for the night.

The trouble started as you were laying out your bedroll beneath a tree, close to Bilbo and Kili, who was in the midst of doing the same. Fili was taking first watch, meaning he was away from his younger brother, and therefore, not being influenced to partake in his dastardly whims. The camp was quiet because of this, several of the company’s members already burrowed beneath their blankets, soothed to sleep by the crickets and frogs, voicing their own soothing lullaby. 

But they were not the only ones singing. 

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear

It was the brunet Durin, murmuring the words to your song. 

Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

And there was only one possible way he could have heard it, as you had never, ever sung in the presence of any of the men you were currently traveling with. You couldn’t. Not knowingly. You had an awful case of nerves whenever asked to perform in front of others, so to have learned the lyrics to that song…

“Kili!” his name was a horrified gasp from your lips, and he froze in his work, his back still to you. He had gone silent, the rest of the words dying in his throat when he realized he had been caught.

You stepped over your bedroll before taking another long stride to find yourself leaning down into the young Dwarf’s face, hands on your hips. “How do you know that song?”

Kili audibly gulped, chocolate brown eyes straying from yours as he took a few moments to try and come up with some sort of an excuse, but having you this close to him, even with all your ire drifting off of your form in waves, was chasing away any coherent thought, let alone a proper explanation. And as more time passed in silence, he could feel your glare sharpening, as if getting ready to pierce right through him. His lips parted, having found his throat had gone dry, and he sucked in a bit of air to try and buy himself some more time. Of course, he had nothing to say. What could he say when it was quite obvious just where he had heard that song before?

But your patience had, apparently, run out, and more than anything, you felt the sting of betrayal. This dwarf, this wonderful goofy man-child that you had come to care for, clearly wasn’t the gentleman you had initially learned him to be. All those offerings of hands to keep you from tripping, giftings of his blanket to keep you warmer at night and all those questions regarding your well-being, where had they stemmed from? How could the same person that had been so kind and polite towards you--with the occasional, meaningless prank--peak on you while you were in the middle of a bath? You had told him where you were going because you trusted that he would keep the others from following; it most certainly had not been an invitation for a private viewing party. 

Unable to bear his presence any longer, you spun away from him, crossing the short distance to your bedroll and gathering it up in your arms along with the rest of your things. You walked around the Hobbit, who was currently feigning sleep to make it seem that he hadn’t been listening to your whole exchange with the young prince, and set yourself up so that he was your buffer. The whole while, you felt Kili’s eyes at your back, and when you went to lay down for the evening, in your periphery, you noticed that he had not moved from where you had left him, only now, he looked positively guilty, head hanging and bottom lip in an almost-pout. 

Your heart--infernal thing that it was--ached at his expression. He looked even smaller than usual--being a human, you were taller than him--but you couldn’t let that get to you. What he did was wrong. And the fact he had no explanation for his behavior confirmed the worst for you. He had really just come down to the river to get an eyeful of you; the performance was just an extra, one that had lingered in his mind. 

It stung, and you had trouble falling asleep that night, your back to both Bilbo and Kili. That next morning, it was Fili--not his brother--that had tapped your shoe with the tip of his boot, stirring you from slumber. Dazed, you lifted your head slowly, looking at him over your shoulder.

“Time to get up, Y/N. Thorin wants us to move out soon,” the blond dwarf said with a pitying smile; it was clear that he had woken you from a deep sleep.

Once he had walked off, you gave yourself a moment and a good stretch before getting to your feet and starting on packing. 

Beside you, Bilbo was just finishing up with his bedroll when he turned to you. The hobbit watched you for a few minutes, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally stepped towards you and said what was on his mind, “I, um, I know it probably isn’t any of my business, but your father did ask that I keep an eye out for you while on this journey. And I, obviously, saw what had happened between you and Kili last night. It isn’t clear to me what had transpired; all I gathered from the situation was that you weren’t happy he knew that song he had been singing. However, if you do feel like talking, know that I am more than willing to lend an ear, should you need it.”

It was a sweet sentiment, one that made you smile at him as you straightened to your full height. “Thanks, Bilbo. I appreciate you being willing to do that for me, but this is really between Kili and I.”

“Understood,” he responded with a nod, curls bouncing with the movement. “But if you change your mind, don’t be afraid to come to me.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Unfortunately for Kili--and Fili, too, who had to hear his brother’s lamenting whenever the two of them were alone--your way of handling the situation was to completely avoid him. If he brought his pony up by yours, you’d urge yours to go a bit faster, moving between two company members so that the brown-haired prince had no choice but to remain behind you. If he tried to talk to you once camp was set, you’d make your way over to Bilbo or Bofur and talk to them as if Kili hadn’t just called your name. If you woke in the morning to find his blanket over you, you’d fold it up and place it by him. But what killed the young dwarf the most was the fact that you wouldn’t even look at him, and you didn’t do it with such conviction, too, as if your eyes landing upon his features would cause you to turn to stone. That was preposterous, of course, but damn it all! He missed you!

For you, there was a simple reason for gazing everywhere but at Kili’s face. If you didn’t see the puppy dog eyes, they would have no effect on you. Plain and simple. Although, after a couple days of this, you were beginning to miss him, too. This had gone on for long enough. It was childish behavior on your part--both Bilbo and Fili had said so--but they did not know what he had done! And to fix things between the two of you, a talk would have to happen, one you weren’t sure you were ready to have since it would involve bringing up the fact he had been peeping on you down at the river.

So things continued to be painful for the Company, as neither of you could find the will to broach the subject with the other, until the two of you had no choice but to have that awkward conversation. 

The setting? Mirkwood’s dungeon.

[the--highlanders]

Fandom asks: P, T?

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas)

I have never heard of aus ever, in my life,,

uhh okay I always wanted to do a team two-era companion backstory switch au? like, say, zoe was from the eighteenth century and jamie was from the future, or victoria was from the twentieth century and ben and polly were from the nineteenth. never really sat down and planned out what their roles would exactly have been or how it would affect them though!

if this is bc I said in the other ask that I wanted to do fairytale aus then I’ll pick one of the ones that @ettelwenailinon and I have living in our heads rent free so like. the little mermaid au, but the version of the story where she turns into seafoam at the end bc her love is unrequited. two’s fascinated by the human world and leaves it behind (bc running away from gallifrey parallels hgfjd) but because he’d done it for the love of a whole world rather than a specific person, there’s no way his love could ever be returned. so after a while his time is up and he’s turned into seafoam. chills in the sea for however many years and then one day finds someone walking on the beach talking to himself/the sea, meets jamie, and well, hey, turns out that the curse/spell that turned two human ends up getting a specific person to lock onto.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything)

oh yeah a bunch dfgjk. have some jamie headcanons:

- he’s gay and ace which (combined w/ internalised homophobia from his time period) makes it a bit harder for him to come to terms with being gay because there’s extra plausible deniability. what do you mean he’s in love with his man-shaped alien best friend, there’s no sexual attraction involved, it’s totally platonic

- he’s from drochaid sguideil (though he probably knew it just as sgudal - the bridge wasn’t built in his time) rather than skye. forgot what book the exact location came from (it’s one of the big finish short trips, maybe the one with the antarctic expedition?) but it just makes sense! easier access to the mainland for participation in the ‘45, and explains why kirsty knows the cave in the highlanders if her family’s land is situated around that area. also I am projecting and I would like him to be from the black isle thank you

- his father was a very staunchly stuart-supporting jacobite; his mother was less sure about the stuarts themselves but a strong believer that it would be better for scotland/the highlands to have them on the throne (like a lot of people she puts down the various crop failures through the 1730s-40s to their absence). jamie takes more after his mother than his father with that (see: his readiness to believe that prince charles fled after culloden rather than laying the blame with one of the generals, at a time when lord george murray was widely believed to be a traitor/a lot of the scottish jacobites felt that the irish jacobites had been too influential and given bad advice)

- actually he takes after his mother in a lot of ways! he might have been his father’s piping protege but he learnt his first songs at his mother’s knee. a lot of the folklore-y stuff he uses to rationalise the stuff he sees when travelling with two comes from her, so he thinks of her often

- he has one brother, a couple of years younger than he was, who also attended their father’s piping school but who chose to support the government army rather than the jacobites. jamie and his father were furious with him and they parted in anger. when he finds out that his brother had been the only person killed at the rout of moy (for the sake of the irl story that a maccrimmon piper was the only one to die, despite the doctor who universe supplanting the family onto the jacobite side) it’s a major source of guilt for jamie.

- he’s a weird horse kid. he liked hanging out with the horses and ponies his family owned/that were in his village, he was a pretty good rider, and he gets the hang of some future transport by comparing it to horses (kind of canon bc of the wheel of ice but w/e!)

- because his family are pipers to the laird they hold their land rent-free and permanently. by contrast he’s living in an area where the social structure is Very quickly changing as the landlords’ motivations are more more for-profit capitalist rather than kinship/military-based. most of the people around him are living on shorter leases and with higher and higher rents. jamie’s sympathetic with them, doesn’t like what’s happening when he gets old enough to become aware of it, and doesn’t quite know what to do with the fact that that’s not something he has to worry about even though it’s a very prevalent worry in his community.

[fangirlinglikeabus]

blue sky (doctor who)

summary: something’s been worrying victoria. the doctor wants to talk about it. jamie is very bad at pretending he has a reason to leave them alone together. (gen, general audiences; warning for internalised homophobia but it’s hopefully not too heavy and it works itself out in the end)

you’ll just have to take my word for this that this is also on other sites because last time i posted with links it didn’t show up in the tags. i’ll reblog with them later

It was a beautiful day; hot but not too hot, with a clear blue sky framing the tops of the buildings. No threat of rain whatsoever, which had pleased the Doctor when he'd first peered, cautiously, out of the TARDIS, umbrella at the ready. 'England' and 'August' were two words that placed together didn't inspire him with much confidence as to the state of the weather, but today had thankfully proved him wrong. So far, the dry spell had held.

They'd parked the TARDIS a few streets away and wandered through the town, the three of them together - Jamie, Victoria, and the Doctor - until they'd arrived at the café. The Doctor had suggested they stop for some food - lunch, he'd said, although it was probably only about eleven o'clock, local time. Something was on his mind, some reason he had for wanting to sit there rather than continue walking, only it wasn't clear what it was.  That concerned Victoria, but she tried to console herself; if it was really serious the Doctor would surely have told them already. Anyway, there were no monsters around that she could see, no aliens climbing out of the cracks in the pavement to attack them, to make this beautiful day miserable and fraught with danger, so for once maybe it wasn't anything to do with that, and they were safe.

Victoria tore her eyes away from the sights of the street - the girl about her age that she'd made eye contact with suddenly and alarmingly - to look at the Doctor. He was playing a game of patience, the cards placed haphazardly on the table in front of him. Every so often he looked up and cleared his throat loudly at Jamie, who kept leaning too far forwards, casting a shadow over the game. Each time Jamie would say 'eh?', realise what he was doing, and sit back in his seat with an embarrassed cough and a look which seemed to say, 'I'm only doing this because I want to, not because you told me to'.

It had a comforting familiarity to it, as did much of what the two of them got up to, like the friendly arguments about the Doctor's ability to fly the TARDIS, or the attempts to explain some technological development to Jamie which usually ended up with him saying 'oh, aye', his code for 'I still don't understand this, but I don't care enough to try'. The Doctor apparently hadn't managed to decipher it yet, since he still made the effort each time, and Victoria hadn't the heart to tell him.

Then again, maybe he knew, and it was just a game the two of them played, another steady part of their friendship. They'd known each other much longer than either of them had known Victoria, had rhythms and rules to their relationship, some of which she might not know about even now, and as a result of it seemed inseparable. She could barely imagine Jamie without the Doctor, or the Doctor without Jamie; they'd probably travel together for the rest of their lives, if they could.

Which just left her. Victoria.

It was easy to think she'd stay with them, with that funny little man and his Jacobite friend, in the light of the sun. They had taken her in when she was lost, and shown her kindness, and she loved them for that. But the trouble was that they weren't always in the light of the sun. They were in the London Underground, fleeing yeti - or in a future Britain in the grips of an ice age, escaping towering Martians.

Occasionally the Doctor would look up and meet her eyes, and she would glance away. There was something contemplative about his expression today, something in the way he regarded her that worried Victoria. Worried her because he seemed worried, on her behalf, and she hated the idea of concerning him unduly. Of course, it was nice to have someone care about you in that way, and she was grateful that it was the Doctor who cared for her, but it did make her feel self-conscious, especially because in this case there was really nothing to worry about. She'd talk to him about it if there was something, except for the ongoing problem of what she would do in the future, which for now she wouldn't bring up with him, because anyway she hadn't really decided what she intended to do with it or what her own feelings were yet. As he finished the card game (cheating, she was sure, backtracking on his own moves when he decided he didn't like them or when he realised he'd reached a dead end, but she didn't point it out) Victoria wracked her brains on what could possibly be bothering him about her. Her mind came up blank. Unless -

No, he couldn't possibly have noticed that. She'd hidden it from him very carefully. And if he had he would have brought it up already. Victoria was struck with a terrible vision of the Doctor looking horribly severe, all appearances of the fool or the father wiped from his face, ordering her out of the TARDIS.

She hadn't initiated it! That had been the girl - the girl they'd met a few stops ago, Liss. She'd been the one to take action, leaning in to kiss Victoria, who had fled before anything else could happen, hoping that no evidence of it appeared on her face. Maybe it had. Maybe it was a bit like that story the Doctor had referenced offhand once, about the man whose sins appeared on his face, in a portrait.

In the meantime, as her thoughts wandered down that path, the Doctor had begun to look panicked, patting down his pockets with increasing desperation.

"Oh my word!" he exclaimed finally. "I forgot to bring any money with me!" Casting around, his eyes fell on Jamie. He took on a placating tone. "Jamie, would you mind terribly if I asked you to go back to the TARDIS and fetch me something to pay the bill with?" He delivered the line very naturally, and Victoria wouldn't have suspected anything at all if Jamie hadn't then looked very deliberately between the two of them, said stiltedly, as though he was reading from a script,

"Oh, aye, I can do that,"

and moved off with the gait of someone who fully intended to take as long as humanly possible in carrying out the task he'd been set.

"Victoria," the Doctor began - almost as soon as Jamie was out of earshot, in case there was any doubt that it had been a deliberate plan between the two of them. She braced herself for the conversation to come. But then he stopped, apparently unsure of where to go from there. Victoria waited, her heart hammering away in her chest.

"Is there something on your mind?" the Doctor eventually settled on.

Victoria ran briefly through all the things that were on her mind. If she wanted to stay with Jamie and the Doctor; where she would go if she didn’t want to stay with Jamie and the Doctor; whether or not they'd be suddenly thrust into mortal peril in this nice English town; the kiss that she didn't want to think about and everything wrapped up in that; consequently, her father, who she had an uneasy feeling would have been disappointed in her, although she had no specific evidence for that because of course it would never have been something they'd have talked about together, not in a million years, not in 1866 or any date that followed in what should have been the ordinary course of her life.

"No, there's nothing," Victoria said. Nothing she could tell him, she meant. Although the Doctor was very old, and very strange, and seemed to know a lot of things that other people didn't, she couldn't imagine ever sitting down with him and explaining that a girl had kissed her, and because a girl had kissed her she was now unable to stop thinking about anything apart from whether she'd liked it, and whether she wanted to do it again, and whether she'd been like that all along or if it was some sort of disease, some sort of situation where once you'd fallen, you stayed fallen, like Adam and Eve taking a bite of the apple in the garden of Eden and being cast out forever.

She looked away from him. She didn't like to tell lies to the Doctor. In an ideal world she could have told him everything; they could always talk like they had near the very beginning, in the cybermen's tomb. But they couldn't, not with this.

Casting about for something to distract her attention, some excuse not to look at the Doctor, Victoria's eye fell on two girls walking on the other side of the street. They were making slow progress, ambling along as though they had nowhere better to be in the world and were taking joy from that. They were holding hands, swinging each other's arms back and forth while they walked.

As Victoria watched, one of them said something and the other laughed, leaning forwards for a kiss.

"Victoria?"

"Hm?" Her head jerked back towards the Doctor, as suddenly as if she'd been caught doing something criminal, not just letting her eye wander.

The Doctor didn't immediately pose the question he'd been meaning to put to her, but instead gazed after Victoria, at the two girls.

"A charming couple, aren't they?" he said, sounding pleased.

"Couple?"

"Oh yes, that sort of thing is quite normal by this period," the Doctor replied, cheerfully and entirely without artifice, as though he had no idea whatsoever how this was affecting her. "Not without some struggle, I might add, but your country sees the light in the end."

Victoria felt, suddenly, like she was about to cry. Which was silly - she hadn't even cried when her father had died, except a few times in her room, when the only people who might notice were the Doctor and Jamie if they happened to be in the vicinity, and definitely not in such a public place as this, where anyone might walk past and see her. And it was over such a small thing as well. She'd faced down monsters before, big scary hulking things, so why -

"Oh, Victoria," the Doctor said gently, fumbling in his pocket and pulling out, in turn, a pack of top trumps, tickets for Casablanca, a bag of sweets, and at last a clean white handkerchief, which he handed over to her.

That was the last straw - that small gesture, the ridiculousness of the contents of the Doctor's pockets, which now lay strewn across the table. Victoria began to sob. She buried her face in the handkerchief, hoping that no-one would hear, hoping that she would run out of tears and then she could stop feeling so miserable.

At last she recovered enough to speak. "I'm sorry," she said wretchedly. "I've ruined the nice day out you wanted for us all." But when she looked up at the Doctor he didn't seem annoyed. He smiled and reached across to pat her hand.

"That's quite alright, Victoria," he said. "It's more important to me to know that you're happy than anything else."

This threatened to make her well up again, but she composed herself. "You said - it was normal now."

"Hm?"

Victoria forced herself to go on. "Those two girls, I mean."

"Oh, yes." The Doctor was about to launch into an explanation of the history that had led up to the time period they were visiting, but he caught the expression on Victoria's face and thought better of it. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know."

She looked down at his hands; at the table; at the top trumps, a battered old set with a picture of a t-rex emblazoned on the first card and the whole thing clumsily kept together by a rubber band, which almost made her smile, it was such a Doctor-ish thing for him to carry around. "I know."

"Good." The Doctor paused, although whether to gather his own thoughts or wait for her to say something was unclear.

"There was a girl -" Victoria began, but fell silent.

The Doctor smiled encouragingly. "Go on."

"Never mind." She couldn't talk about it just yet. The Doctor had said it was fine, and she trusted him, but she was still walking on untested ground, unable to quite shake the sensation that she'd done something horrible.

The Doctor, after waiting for a few moments, said, "Naturally it will take some time for you to get used to."

"Yes," Victoria said. Her voice shook more than she wanted it to, and it came out much too quietly. She wished she could sound stronger - but then, she reminded herself, this wasn't some terrifying creature that she had to stand up to, but the Doctor, who was looking at her as a compassionate father might look at a daughter.

That brought with it another pang, and Victoria came very close to crying again.

The Doctor smiled at her, and pulled his chair closer. "Listen to me, Victoria. It will get easier. I know it might not seem like it now, but I promise you it will. Falling in love with another woman, and acting on that feeling, is no more inherently good or bad than if we were talking about the same situation with a man. It has just the same potential to bring you great happiness, if you'll let it. Do you understand me?"

Victoria nodded. She didn't yet trust herself to speak.

The Doctor smiled and patted her hand again. "Brave girl. Ah, and here's Jamie back with the money."

Victoria turned around. Sure enough, there he was, approaching the table cautiously.

"Is everything alright?" he asked once he was close enough, glancing uncertainly between the two of them.

"Oh, yes," the Doctor said, beaming, "I think everything's quite alright now, isn't it, Victoria?"

"Yes," she said, and even managed a smile of her own up at Jamie. She was surprised to realise that it was true, at least temporarily. For a moment even the worst of her worries seemed perfectly manageable in the face of the beautiful summer day. Everything was absolutely calm and normal. But then -

"Oh, Jamie, you picked up the wrong purse!"

"Well you didn't tell me what I was looking for! You just said fetch something you could pay the bill with, an' that had money in it, so -"

"But Jamie, these aren't even from the right planet!"

"An' just how was I supposed to know that? Next time you get it, an' don't go bothering me if you're going to complain -"

Well, she supposed that was normal too. Victoria started to laugh - laugh uncontrollably at the two of them, being so ridiculous over something that barely mattered. They stopped arguing with each other, shocked into indignation by her laughter.

"Now, really, Victoria, I do think that's quite unfair -" the Doctor began.

It was a beautiful day; hot but not too hot, with a clear blue sky framing the tops of the buildings.

Maybe things would work themselves out after all.

[clarasimone]

Iain Glen in the archives of the Victoria & Albert Museum

YES, found a new source of info and screening possibilities in London, in the archives of V&A. Access in free but you have to register to have the Museum create a card for you.

One can find a biographical file on IG (contents unknown to me at present) and one can screen Hedda Gabler (2005) and The Crucible (2006 - so no need to travel all the way to the RSC in Stratford-upon-Avon to see it) !

Click here for the technical info: https://nal-vam.on.worldcat.org/search?queryString=au%3DGlen%2C%20Iain&databaseList=199,269,239,638,283,197,285

I’ve often posted on The Crucible but here are pics from Hedda Gabler, a real treat given that the play won multiple Olivier Awards, including Best Revival and Best Actress for Eve Best in the title role. Also note that IG gets to co-star with this youngster below ;-)

Premiere night !

Bonus:

THE TIMES (HEDDA GABLER)SATURDAY, MARCH 5, 2005

IAIN GLEN IS EFFORTLESSLY STRIKING A POSE.

This 43-year-old actor is regularly referred to as a “Scots hunk”. Today, with his fair hair pulled back into a tiny, straggly ponytail and sporting a pointy-tipped moustache, he’s a little rough around the edges. But he has a warm, intensely masculine presence and a sharp wit. As he tilts his profile towards the light, facing the photographer the perfect angle without for one second allowing his attention to wander from our conversation, it’s not difficult to see what makes Glen one of our most magnetic performers.

We’re in the Almeida Theatre’s rehearsal rooms in North London to discuss Glen’s latest role, as Judge Brack in Richard Eyre’s new production of Hedda Gabler. Ibsen’s 1890 domestic tragedy is, as Glen puts it, “psychologically astute”, even when the characters’ behaviour is at its most extreme.

Glen is surprisingly reluctant to talk about how rehearsals are going because, he says, at this stage he genuinely doesn’t know. “This is always a vulnerable time,” he says. “Really you are clueless and searching and you don’t want to give any secrets away if you feel that you have had some kind of revelation.”

Nevertheless, he agrees to divulge what he has so far uncovered about Brack, a powerful and manipulative man who attempts to contrive a situation whereby he can conduct an affair with the newlywed Hedda and continue his friendship with her husband.

“He’s an enigma, and I was drawn to him because I feel he’s very open to interpretation,” Glen says. “He’s not untypical of a certain sort of man – he’s unable to commit to a married state, so he creates triangular relationships. There are men who can divorce, well, not exactly sex from love, but they can compartmentalise their lives. Yet Brack’s feelings for both Hedda and her husband are in earnest. It’s subtle and complex.”

Glen’s record as a classical actor is impressive. His RSC debut as Henry V won him comparisons to Olivier and McKellen, and he was a rivetingly febrile Edgar in Max Stafford Clark’s King Lear at the Royal Court.

More recently he starred in Peter Stein’s much-admired The Seagull in 2003 and blasted his way from under the shadow of Brando as a fierce wiry Stanley Kowalski opposite Glenn Close in the National Theatre’s 2002 production of A Streetcar Named Desire. The Blue Room (1998) directed by Sam Mendes in which he and Nicole Kidman played all ten roles sent the Donmar Warehouse box office into meltdown as the public clamoured to see them in David Hare’s update of Schnitzler’s La Ronde. Both actors gave scintillating performances – and the play’s huge impact had some unexpected knock on effects. According to Kidman, The Blue Room revitalized her career, it gave Glen a taste of celebrity life and a continuing close friendship with his co-star. But his relationship with Kidman came under less welcome scrutiny when their marriages broke down – hers, to Tom Cruise, in 2001, and then in 2002 Glen’s to the actress Susannah Harker, with whom he has a son, Finlay, now aged nine. There was no affair with Kidman, but that didn’t stop the speculation.

“It was difficult, but you have to handle it with good grace and move on,” says Glen whose partner now is Charlotte Emmerson, also an actress. “I mean, if I was taking my son to school and a photographer was there taking pictures, I don’t know how I’d react. Maybe I’d kick the living daylights out of him. But so far it’s never been bad enough to upset me. It’s part of the business.

Still, he clearly doesn’t relish it – one reason why he’s never likely to move to Hollywood. Besides, he says, there’s a much more satisfying variety of work here, where he can switch between film, television and theatre. “I like to spread myself quite thin. When I’m working I’m focused, but when it’s done, it’s done. I jump into the next thing.”

Right now, he’s on our screens playing the Jacobite rebel Alan Breck in the BBC’s Kidnapped. And RŽgis Warnier’s Man to Man, in which Glen stars as Victorian Scientist in search of the missing link, recently premiered at the Berlin Film Festival and is due for general release later this year.

“I’m someone who likes to get a lot done in a day,” he remarks. “I don’t think I’d have stuck with acting if I hadn’t worked pretty solidly. It’s so painful for actors who don’t work. If acting had meant I was just sitting around, I couldn’t have done it.” And with that he’s off. Let’s hope the acting profession continues to keep him busy.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

I would love to see a sweet scene or two of William at Fraser's Ridge (circa book 9) bonding with Mandy and/or Jem. What do the kids think of their Uncle Willie?

Homecoming - Part Ten

Book 9 speculation; William arrives at the Ridge with his cousin Dottie the same day that the MacKenzie family has made their unexpected return.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine

*****************************************************

With so many people about the big house—and with so many of them watching him—William felt the need to get away. He couldn’t retreat to the room he’d been given upstairs. It was too close and would feel too much like hiding. They’d be waiting for him to come down and then he’d have to watch them restrain themselves as the impulse to bombard him with questions seized them all. Well… maybe not Mother Claire. But her gentle kindness and understanding would leave him feeling coddled and he didn’t need that either.

He just needed some space and some time to adjust to… everything. 

He slipped out the back, picked a direction, and began walking. The children were having something to eat and with so many of them about, it took a large number of the adults to get them sorted. He also thought he heard Jamie and Brianna discussing plans for some sort of building they hoped to start work on soon. 

William soon felt the tension in his head and limbs loosen. The air was crisp and had that clean feeling that can only be found when you remove yourself far enough from a habited space. The forest wasn’t too dense but there was plenty of shade keeping the area cool. He could find no discernable path and paused to take in and mark his surroundings. The last thing he needed was to get himself too lost to find his way back and require a search party. He would never manage to escape being watched if that were to happen. 

There appeared to be a clearing to his right, so William headed in that direction. He knew he wasn’t close to the big house, but he could — perhaps — pretend he’d been sent on an errand to one of the other houses on the Ridge and get a sense of just how far off he’d gotten. 

But there was no cabin or farm when he reached the edge of the clearing. Instead, the trees opened as they approached a steep dropoff. William kept to the treeline and safely away from the edge. When he looked up and out, a quiet and calming sense of awe overtook him.

A corner of the valley lay before him. He’d seen more stunning views in his travels through the colonies. He was momentarily thrust back into a memory of visiting the Ridge as a boy and Jamie taking him on a hunting trip. There had been a remarkable view along a cliff like this — though, that one had been steeper, the view stretching further. It must have been at a higher point on one of these mountains. 

It wasn’t the vast wilderness that William found incredible here. It was the columns of rising smoke. It was the empty spots among the trees along the mountainside. There had to be more than two dozen of them. The homesteads of settlers who had followed Jamie, trusted him with their lives and their families. Settlers who had built something for themselves in the wilderness — who were still building and would build long after Jamie was gone. 

William felt a stab of admiration for the man who’d fathered him. He had heard enough of Jamie Fraser’s history to know he hadn’t had an easy life — especially after the Jacobites were defeated — so to see how much he’d accomplished… 

It was difficult to make out but William was pretty sure he could tell which of the cleared spaces belonged to the Frasers. Marking it in his memory, he headed back into the forest and oriented himself in the right direction once more. 

As he walked, William’s thoughts traveled to his sister, Brianna, and all that she’d said about her own upbringing, how she hadn’t known Fraser was her father until she was grown. She’d certainly come to embrace Jamie Fraser. Hearing her talk, she’d clearly adored the man who raised her — and who’d lied to her. Somehow she’d managed to make peace with the two men and their roles in her life. 

He’d asked her about that too. What had she done to find that peace within her or had she just woken up one day and felt different. She’d said it wasn’t until she became a mother herself that she had really been able to come to terms with it all, as much as she ever would. 

“I looked at my baby and knew I’d do anything for him. I would never do anything to purposely hurt him. And I knew that all of my parents must’ve felt the same way,” she’d said. “I never would have imagined how many lies I’ve told my children — to keep them safe, to keep them innocent… Mostly small lies that won’t mean much in the long run, but little betrayals of their trust that they would be horrified by if they learned the truth now. And then there are larger lies, though they’re fewer and mostly lies of omission. Those are the ones I worry about,” she confessed. “I guess… because those are the ones that hurt me the most. But that’s why I give my parents a great deal of slack now, for what they kept from me.” 

William had let the subject drop, preferring to mull it over on his own. Where was the line between outright lies and lies of omission in his case? And how much did it matter? It didn’t change the love he’d received from his mother, his grandparents, or Papa. How much had they done it to protect him and how much had they done it to protect the memory and reputation of the mother who’d borne him? Again, did it matter? What would he have done in their situation? 

What might things have been like if he’d been raised by Jamie Fraser? That had to be a question that Brianna had asked herself too. Of course, she was Jamie Fraser’s daughter by Mother Claire, and anyone who saw the two of them together… Whereas, he… 

Jamie had told him several times that whatever regrets he had about William’s mother, he didn’t regret William’s existence. But that could mean… too many things.

Laughter. Not just any laughter, but the laughter of children. It was so light and happy it distracted William from his thoughts. 

Brianna’s children were playing in the woods. At least, those were the two he could see. William suspected the other children weren’t too far away. Fanny or, perhaps she was too old to bother with children’s games. But the older boy with the French name; he would be involved. He didn’t seem the type to miss out on mischief and fun. Right now Mandy was following a few steps on Jem’s heels as he crept through the underbrush to peek behind a tree. Mandy jumped and squealed but Jem shook his head. 

William turned his path to approach them slowly, continuing to watch them. 

There was a great commotion that involved Mandy shrieking with terror and Jem and another child laughing. 

Mandy didn’t seem amused. She turned on her heel to stomp away but stopped dead when she spotted William watching. The boys stifled their laughter and smiled benignly at William. 

“What have you three been playing at?” William asked. “It looked like you were enjoying yourselves.”

“We were just playin’ hide and seek,” Jem answered. “But I think Mandy’s had enough.” 

Mandy turned back around to glare at her brother. “Wha’ I’ve had enough of is you and Germain playin’ against me. I wanna be seeker.”

“And we dinna want ye gettin’ tired part way through and goin’ off to pick flowers and leavin’ us hidin’ till dark,” Jem threw back at her. 

Mandy’s face grew red at the accusation. 

“Perhaps you can explain the game to me,” William intervened. 

All three children looked at him with the same puzzled expression. 

“Have you never played it then?” Germain asked. 

“I didn’t have anyone to play with,” William explained. “No one my own age. I had tutors until I was old enough to go to university and then I went into the army.”

Mandy’s mouth gaped open. “Ye’ve never played before? At all?”

William chuckled, a little self-conscious under the gaze of the older boys. “I didn’t have the opportunity to play games very often, but I did play… And I rode horses a lot. It was uh… it was your grandfather who taught me to ride when I was about your age,” he told Mandy. 

“Grandda’s great wi’ horses,” Jem agreed.

But Mandy was still focused on the fact William had never played hide and seek before. 

“You can be seeker wi’ me,” she declared, turning to Jem and Germain to see if they would challenge her or let her have her way.

*************************************************

“They should have been back to the house by now,” Brianna remarked, anxiety overflowing. 

Claire tried to soothe her but knew it was pointless given all Brianna had been through the last few months. 

“They’re children, Bree. If they’re having fun, they won’t be thinking about how worried you might be or how late they are. Remember Germain is with them and he knows these mountains as well as your father does.”

Brianna’s arm suddenly shot out across Claire’s chest, forcing her to stop in her tracks. 

“I hear someone,” she whispered. 

Claire rolled her eyes and gently maneuvered around Brianna’s arm. 

“It’s William,” Claire said, keeping her voice quiet so their presence might remain unnoticed. “He’s got Mandy with him. I think… I think he’s playing with them.”

“Playing what?”

Mandy was on William’s shoulders, her hands in his hair guiding him. He had a grip on each of her legs and was leading her around from tree to tree so she could peer up into the branches from a higher vantage point. 

“Found you!” Mandy hollered, pointing up at Jem whose leg was just visible on a branch. 

Claire felt Brianna breathe a sigh of relief beside her, and then giggle as they watched William fighting to keep Mandy properly balanced amidst her excited flailing. At one point, she leaned forward over William’s head to peer at him upside down. The smile that broke out on his face at whatever she said caused Claire’s chest to tighten. 

“Shall we leave them to continue playing?” she suggested to Brianna. “I think they’ll find their way back on their own and I’d hate to disrupt them.” 

Brianna agreed and they slipped away unnoticed.

[irenedonnee]

At Last 6. Home Again

A/N: I’m sorry it took so long before posting this chapter! Thank you @cozyweatherlover and @stessrene on twitter for the beta!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | AO3

Claire thought a lot about where she was going to bring Jamie for their wee trip in the Highlands. She didn’t want it to be too romantic -- after all they had never talked about their first kiss again -- and she didn’t want it to be impersonal. She determined where she would bring him while reading the papers a few days before they left.

She called to make sure there would be a vacancy for them. Fortunately, someone had cancelled and there was a free room with a king sized bed and bay windows on the Bens. She was sure Jamie was going to be happy about it until she put her suitcase in the back of the car. She started to worry he might not want to go there and would think it was bold of her to rent this room without asking him first. It was too late to go back now. Glenna was waiting in the car.

“You’re ready?” Jamie asked, coming out of the store with a small suitcase. 

“Yes,” she forced a smile and put all worries behind her. “Are you bringing your typewriter?”

He shook his head and she went to help him carry the suitcase to her car. “Thank you and no, I’ll leave the typewriter here. Just a wee notebook and a pen should be enough.”

Once they were ready to leave, Claire sat behind the wheel of the blue car and started the engine. Jamie sat next to her and looked at her with a big smile. “It’s very nice of you… To bring me wi’ ye on a wee trip.”

She smiled back at him. “Of course. It’ll be so much more fun with you. And you know the place, don’t you?”

“I havena lived in the Highlands in a verra long time. Besides, I dinna remember enough to tell you about places. Maybe a few stories and legends, but nothing more.”

“Well, that’s a beginning,” she smiled and started driving towards the road. 

The place Claire had rented wasn’t far from Inverness, but she took the longest road. She was in no hurry to get there. 

Jamie could feel she was tense, but he thought maybe driving made her nervous or perhaps nauseous. His mother always felt sick in cars. He wanted to ask if she’d rather be sitting on the passenger seat, but he knew fine well it was impossible. Not with his damaged leg. Once more, he cursed in his head, tired of the trouble brought by this injury. He really hoped time would make it better, but he wasn’t expecting it to heal at all.

“Are you okay?” Jamie asked, looking at her, worried.

“Yeah,” she smiled, pretending everything was fine. “The landscape is so pretty!” 

“Yes,” he agreed, not convinced by her answer. He was starting to know her quite well and if there was one thing he first noticed about her -- something that often amused him -- was her glass face. “Do you want to stop by the road and eat something?”

“I’m not quite hungry, but if you are-” she reached with her free hand for the bag containing food from Mrs Graham, but he stopped her. 

“No need, I’m fine,” he assured her. “Just thought maybe you were.”

“No, I’m fine,” she answered and an awkward silence fell between the two of them.

It wasn’t until Jamie saw the place that he understood what was going on. He froze and didn’t say a word, only stared in front of him as she entered the parking lot. 

When she saw his reaction, Claire regretted making the decision to rent a room there. She felt stupid for assuming he would ever want to go back to Lallybroch after all those years. 

“Is this… the place we’ll be staying for the night?” Jamie asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yes,” she mumbled. She tried to hide her crimson red cheeks by looking straight in front of her, hoping he wouldn’t notice her embarrassment. She parked the car and Jamie got out, leaving the passenger door opened.

She watched him walk to the building, looking around, an unreadable expression on his face. She finally decided to get out of the car and join him. He didn’t hear her come to stand behind him. Finally, a middle aged woman walked out of the main door. “Ye must be Claire Beauchamp!”

She cleared her throat before answering. “Yes, that’s me,” she said in a low voice.

“Welcome to Lallybroch! I am Mrs Fitz, the one ye spoke to on the phone,” the woman smiled at her warmly and invited them in. Jamie followed, not paying attention to what the owner said. “Right at the end of this hallway, there is the kitchen and the dining room where ye can come enjoy your meals. They will be ready by eight in the morning. Now, follow me upstairs, I’ll show ye to yer room.”

Claire looked over her shoulder at Jamie as he looked around, his jaw clenched. Feeling her eyes well up with tears of disappointment, Claire tried to pay attention to what Mrs Fitz was saying to stop thinking about Jamie for a moment.

“The painting on the walls were made by the first Lady who ever lived in Lallybroch, when the castle was established in 1702.”

Claire looked over them absentmindedly. It seemed like the way to their room was unending. “There!” Mrs Fitz finally said, stopping in front of the door. “Ye’re room 1753. Every room number is after a special event that happened to the inhabitants of the castle and the surrounding lands. 1753 is the year when the Dun Bonnet -- an outlaw, and the son of one of the Laird’s-- was captured by the English soldiers and sent to prison for participating in the Jacobite rebellions. The legend says he spent six years living in a cave nearby. He was alone except for maybe once or twice a month, when he came to bring food he hunted for his family.” Mrs Fitz smiled at them.

As much as Claire usually enjoyed history and learning about the legends in Scotland, now was not the right time. The owner didn’t seem to notice their disposition.

She opened the door and Claire stepped into the room. The walls were covered with blue flowered tapestries, frames, and paintings with vases and two brown leather couches by the fireplace. Claire had to admit the view was breathtaking. “I’ll send my grandson to bring ye yer luggage,” she smiled and closed the door behind her.

A heavy silence fell in the room and Claire immediately regretted Mrs Fitz’s departure. 

She was standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed on her chest and didn’t dare look at Jamie although she could feel his eyes on her.

“You bloody well say something,” she finally said.

It took a few seconds before he did say something. “Ye kent we were coming here? Ye spoke to the owner?”

“Yes… I saw an ad in the newspaper and I thought… Well we were planning on traveling in the Highlands so I thought-” she hadn’t heard him walk to her and was surprised by his lips on hers.

When they pulled away, she finally looked up at him to see his eyes filled with love and tenderness.

“You’re not mad?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“Mad? No, Claire, I’m… I’m speechless, aye. Because nobody’s ever done anything like that for me before,” he smiled. 

“I thought maybe you’d be happy to visit your ancestral home.”

“And ye were right. I am beyond happy.” He held her gaze and bent down to kiss her again. This time, she kissed him back, throwing her arms around his neck and pushing her body against his. 

“Your luggage, Mrs Beauchamp,” a young teenage boy with blond hair entered the room with their two bags. “Oh,” he said, when he saw the couple kissing. 

Surprised, Claire pulled back from Jamie, putting her finger on her mouth, still feeling the warmth of his lips on hers. 

“Ian, laddie!” they heard Mrs Fitz scream from down the stairs, “how many times have I told ye not to go into our guest’s room wi’out knocking first!”

His cheeks turned crimson red as he looked up at them. “Sorry,” he whispered, leaving the luggage by the door before storming out of the room. When the door was closed, Jamie and Claire looked up at each other and burst out laughing.

“Weel…” Jamie chuckled silently.

“Do you want to visit the house?” She asked him.

“Aye.”

Claire had never heard Jamie talk so much  since she first met him. While they walked around the house, he showed her places he remembered, despite being very young when they left Lallybroch. She was surprised by all the things, all the little details, he could remember.

Her hand in his, he walked her around, showing her the little places he liked to hide as he played and he told her how he liked to dress up as a knight to fight to protect the castle.

“I can see where your imagination comes from,” Claire smiled as they stepped out of the house.

“Aye,” he grinned, looking around the lands surrounding Lallybroch. “And my mother had a verra big library wi’ all kinds of books from everywhere around the world. You saw it. Most of her books are still there, she didna bring them all the way to America,” he smiled.

They walked around and he brought her to a little cemetery behind the house. “My father is buried here. Alongside my brother.”

Claire saw his name written on the grave. 

William Simon Murtagh MacKenzie Fraser

1909-1914

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“He died before I was born. I always… I always wish I had the chance to know him.”

Claire put a free hand on his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. “I know,” she whispered.

He put his hand on hers and sighed. He knew she understood, she had lost her parents when she was very young. She knew what it was like to wonder how different life would have been if his father and brother had not died.

“It’s getting dark outside and I think it will rain soon. We should go back inside.”

Mrs Fitz was waiting for them in the kitchen with a hot supper. They sat at a small table and she put a plate of haggis in front of them. Jamie smiled at her and thanked her. When she left for the kitchen, he saw Claire looking at the meat in her plate.

“Haggis,” he smiled.

“Oh,” she forced a smile. 

“You never had haggis? In all the time you’ve been in Scotland?”

Her cheeks turned pink and he had to keep a straight face. She was adorable.

“Well, no… I never thought it looked quite… uh… tasty,” she whispered.

He chuckled. “It’s quite good, once you accept what it is.”

“What is it?” she frowned and he realized he had said too much.

“Oh, well… Just meat. Eat now,” he smiled and took a bit. It was delicious, the first time he ate haggis in a very long time. When he lived in New York, his mother would cook Scottish food from time to time, but it never tasted like this. “Mmm,” he said, “that’s good.”

Claire didn’t look very convinced, but she took a very little bite. He watched as her face went from disgusted to a surprised appreciation. “It’s not bad,” she said and took another, bigger bite.

“See, yer a real Scot,” he tried to wink at her, making her smile. 

Mrs Fitz came back with dessert and sat with them while Jamie told her he used to live here with his mother. She was surprised to hear his story and listened as he talked about the years before she moved in. She explained how she had come to buy the castle and he listened carefully. 

“I’m glad that Lallybroch fell in the hands of someone like ye,” he smiled. “This house… It’s been in my family for generations. Since it was built. But I see you have respect for the past and the history of the house.”

“Aye,” Mrs Fitz said, pleased to hear it. “And yer welcome to come anytime ye want! I think we can manage a deal for the rent of the room.” Her cheeks were pink and her eyes shining. She was an adorable woman and both Jamie and Claire felt welcome to come back.

After a long talk with the new owner, Claire and Jamie went back to their room. “I think I’ll go wash,” she said and went into the bathroom.

Jamie changed into his pajamas and lied down on the bed in the dark. He remembered the last time he’d been in this room. He was four years old and just had a nightmare. He remembered running from his room to his mother’s and climbing in her bed. He had been scared to death, but after she realized it was her little boy, she had let him sleep in her very big bed with her. 

He was so happy to be back. For so many years, during the war, when he was freezing to death in trenches or foxholes, he had longed for home. When he thought about home, he never thought about the apartment he shared with his mom and Jenny, but the old castle in the scottish Highlands. He knew he would never go back and his heart would break all over again.

Jamie always felt this house was the only memory he had of his father. Brian Fraser was born here and lived all his life here. Jamie would imagine him reading by the fire or working in the field. He would imagine him sitting with them during supper. He always wanted to come back and now he understood why. 

Jamie listened to the water running in the bathroom and tried not to imagine Claire in the bath. He couldn’t believe she had done this for him. He knew there was a chance that maybe he didn’t want to see this house again, but she had called Mrs Fitz, taking the chance. He smiled to himself and all doubts that Claire didn’t love him were gone.

Because of her, he had made peace with his past. He had let go of his demons and had turned to see the new day ahead of him. She had given him a reason to live - more than just inspiration for his novels. And now, she had given him the chance to make peace with his father’s death, with a childhood he had always craved after it had been stolen from him. The last thing he needed to deal with in order to heal.

He heard the door open and his blood froze in his veins. It was dark in the room, he could only see the shadow of her in her dressing gown walking to the bed. She sat next to him, looking deep into his eyes. She smiled, putting a hand on his cheek.

“Claire…” he whispered. His voice was hoarse.

“Yes?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes softened and she smiled, bending her head to kiss him. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips and deepened the kiss. She pushed him on his back and straddled him.

“Claire,” he whispered, gently pushing her away. 

“What?” she asked. He looked into her eyes and saw they were filled with tenderness, the moonlight reflecting on her white velvet skin. 

“I’ve never… uh…”

“You’re a virgin?”

He blushed and nodded. “And I dinna ken with my leg how I can-”

She interrupted him with a deep, noisy kiss on his mouth. He moaned lightly as she bit his lower lip. Her hands reached to his shirt and she lifted it over his head, before letting her hands travel down on his chest, goosebumps rising on his skin. She helped him take off his pants and looked at him, biting her lower lip. He blushed, not used to have a woman look at him this way.

“Well,” he said, breathless. 

She looked up at him and smiled. She opened the belt of her gown and slowly let it fall off her shoulders. 

“Christ,” Jamie said looking at her, his blue eyes turned black. “Claire, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

It was her turn to blush. She bent her head to kiss him again. He kissed her back, his hands caressing from her back to her breasts and her bare bottom. 

Jamie moaned when she took hold of his throbbing cock and guided him to her. She sat down on him looking at his face as she did so. He closed his eyes and opened them when she started to ride him slowly. 

Her hands were in his hair and his arms were around her, bringing her closer to him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, groaning and biting her skin as she moved faster.

He didn’t last very long with all the wee noises she was making and cried out her name. They stayed in each other’s arms for a moment until she rolled on her side, looking at him a big smile on her face. “Was it like you thought it would be?” she asked sheepishly.

He smiled, looking up at her with pink cheeks. “Better,” he said, putting an untamed curl behind her ear. She kissed him and fell asleep in his arms. 

Jamie woke her up some time later and they made love again, always looking in the other’s eyes. It was the most romantic and erotic moment of their lives and they both wished this perfect night would never end. Even if they knew it was just the start of something beautiful.

[outlanderlush]

‘Outlander’: Sam Heughan on Season 2 Changes, Claire and Jamie’s “Modern Relationship”

Being fairly new to the fandom I am enjoying finding old interviews from Sam & Cait. I really enjoyed this one.

Originally posted in Collider Magazine by Christina Radish on April 16, 2016

In Season 2 of the Starz series Outlander, Claire (Caitriona Balfe) and Jamie (Sam Heughan) have arrived in France, hell-bent on infiltrating the Jacobite rebellion led by Prince Charles Stuart and stopping the he battle of Culloden. While there, they are thrown into the lavish world of French society, where intrigue and parties are abundant, but altering the course of history is a greater challenge then they could have imagined, as they attempt to prevent the extinction of Scottish life as they know it.

During this exclusive interview with Collider, actor Sam Heughan talked about the different themes and feel for Season 2, the effects of Jamie not dealing with his trauma, the changing dynamic between Jamie and Claire, the biggest external threats this season, the new costumes, the shorthand he’s developed with co-star Caitriona Balfe, and what he’s most excited about fans of the book getting to see in Season 2. Be aware that there are some spoilers.

Collider: After such a dark end of the season, last season, was it nice to start off with a brighter and more colorful Season 2?

SAM HEUGHAN: Yeah, visually it’s a lot different. And the themes and feel of it are different, as well. It’s this world that we don’t quite understand, and Jamie and Claire are struggling there. And yet, ultimately, it’s very important for us to go there because when we do go back to Scotland, it’s a release. It’s like, “Ah, this is what we missed.” So, they’re in France and there are a lot of things for them to contend with. Jamie is working all day on the mission, and at night, he’s going out and drinking, all the time, because of what’s happened to him. That’s pulling him and Claire apart, and he’s plagued by it and won’t open up about it, so it comes to a head. It’s something they need to get over and, because of that, Paris is not a particularly joyous place.

Jamie seems very torn between not dealing with the trauma of what he went through and being focused on the mission he’s trying to complete. Will he eventually have to deal with what he’s trying to avoid?

HEUGHAN: He’s very much a man of the time, where you don’t talk about your feelings. He’s dealt with physical trauma before. He’s got scars on his back and multiple wounds. That’s fine. But, the mental side is new to him. He doesn’t think about it and just busies himself. He gets drunk so that he doesn’t have to deal with it, but it does come back to haunt him. Ultimately, it forces Jamie and Claire to be less intimate because he’s closing up and not talking about it. Their physicality becomes less. They see less of each other. It comes to a head because they’re losing hold of each other and losing sight of why they’re there and what they’re doing. And the way that it’s resolved comes in quite a surprising form.

Is Claire trying to get Jamie to talk about it, or is she being very cautious?

HEUGHAN: Initially, she’s very much trying to give him his space. She knows that he’s doing what she asked him to, which is to ingratiate himself with the Jacobites to complete their mission, so she can understand why he’s not talking. But then, he needs to talk about it because it’s affecting their relationship. She thinks that maybe time will cure everything, but unfortunately, it doesn’t. So then, she does ask him to talk about it, which doesn’t really go well.

Where are the biggest external threats coming from this season?

HEUGHAN: In Season 1, you could see the threats coming, in the form of Red Coats who were on horses with guns. This time, it’s less obvious. We met St. Germain in Episode 1, who is this very powerful merchant who has his fingers in pies and ties to King Louis, and he starts to muddle in their affairs. He ties back to other characters that we’ve met before and will meet in the future, who are quite powerful and who have all along been meddling in their affairs. It’s very complicated, but it’s politics.

Was it fun to get to open up the world, in this way?

HEUGHAN: Yes. It’s been very much character based before this and very much about discovery in Season 1. This is a slightly different animal. It’s been interesting. Dealing with Prince Charles and the war generals, you start to realize why these people were so ineffectual in battle, but why they were so inspiring and people would follow them. It’s been really fascinating to understand how and why these things happened.

Do the new costumes make you carry yourself different, physically?

HEUGHAN: Absolutely! It’s quite claustrophobic. They look fantastic, but it’s all buttoned up. It’s all for show, and that’s what Jamie and Claire are doing. They’re putting on this public persona, but in private, it’s a very different story. So, when we do go back to Scotland, it’s like an old friend, putting on the kilt again, and being free and able to express your emotions.

How has your working relationship with Caitriona Balfe changed and grown, after having a season of work behind you?

HEUGHAN: In Season 1, we were finding out way through. Now, we have a shorthand. We know each other and we know what to expect. When I read a scene, I know roughly how she’s going to play it, which is nice. With Season 1, we were both new and naive to it, so we were holding each other’s hand and going into it wide-eyed. Now, it’s a little bit more lived in, which is a good thing. That’s exactly where the characters are. They’re more savvy and they understand the process of where they, but the problems they face are more complex. It’s not young love. They’re not teenagers falling in love. This is a modern relationship that has its own problems and grey areas.

Now that Jamie knows about Claire and where she came from, how does that change things between them?

HEUGHAN: It’s just like any modern relationship when the partner mentions the ex. When Frank’s name is mentioned, it’s like, “Oh, here we go.” It’s just more awkward and it’s a part of the relationship we’re now getting to see.

Are there moments from the books that you’re excited about fans getting to see brought to life this season?

HEUGHAN: I’m really excited about the battles and about the historical side. I’m just excited for the fans of the books to get to meet all of these great characters, like King Louis and Master Raymond. Master Raymond is a great character in the book, and you’ll find out something quite interesting about him. He’s got secrets, as well. He’s such a great character and he’s played so well by Dominique Piñon. Each episode has got new characters and new places, which will be very fun for the readers to see.

Do you worry at all about the changes that get made to the story and how the fans will react to it, or have they been very embracing of the changes?

HEUGHAN: I think they’re very forgiving. Of course, there are always a few, here and there, that are like, “Why is that like this?” If only they knew the logistics of everything. It’s amazing. I’m always amazed at how much we’re able to stick to the story or get everything in. We’ve got a great team of writers and they’ve all read the books, and (author) Diana [Gabaldon] is very good about that. If she doesn’t get something through to the writers or producers, she’ll go to me or Caitriona and suggest something or manage to slip it in somewhere. It is a little bit political, in its own Parisian way. But, I’m very pleased that we manage to stay close to the books. I also like to see us be able to get away from it a little bit or play with the structure. I think that gives us more opportunity to surprise book fans. There’s always that problem of, if we do that, are we going to upset people that we’re not sticking with the books completely. It’s a tough one.

With all of the darker moments of this show, there are usually also some lighter moments. Will we continue to see that?

HEUGHAN: Yeah, there are some light-hearted moments. He’s got his companion, Murtagh, who is always a source of entertainment, in some way or another. There’s also this great character, Fergus, played by Romann Berrux, who is this very wonderful little French boy that brings a great energy into the room. The way that Jamie and Claire react to him is great, and it just lightens everyone. You get to see their more frivolous side. They’re now expectant parents, so you also get to see how they will be as parents.

[bee-kathony]

McTavish & Beauchamp | Ch. 25 “Returns & Reunions”

a/n: thank you everyone for reading and thank you @julesbeauchamp for this wonderful moodboard! 

Masterlist Here

It was easier than he thought. The entire time they were at Fort William, Jamie had feared that at any moment he would be captured and flogged again. It haunted him in his nightmares. The cracking sound of the whip on his flesh, tearing it open as the blood poured out. As he walked out of the Fort with his father leaning on him, Jamie vowed to never return to this place again.

Brian was weak of course, having spent eight years locked up would make anyone so. As they left, Lord John Grey gave them Brian’s personal items. Jamie was shocked that after all these years, these items had remained and not been sold. The only thing they had received was a small dirk and a jacket that Jamie had deemed the Laird’s coat when he was a boy.

Jamie had led his father to their horses and helped him up and they had rode for several hours until they found a village with a tavern for the night. He was anxious to return to Claire and tell her the news that it was all the truth, but he knew his father needed rest and a good meal.

As his father ate his stew in small bites, Jamie kept looking over his own bowl at him. He had made peace with the fact that his father was dead and that he would never see him again. He’d never seen him buried either which had always weighed heavily on him, but here he sat — Brian Fraser, alive in the flesh.

“How do ye feel, Da?”

“I’m better now, lad. Tis good to see yer face,” he grinned and then took another bite.

When Jamie had heard the news of his father’s death, he had been only nineteen and still recovering from his wounds. Now, Jamie was a man with bairns of his own and a wife.

“Did ye think to get a letter to us? Tell us ye werena dead?” Jamie couldn’t help but ask the question that’d been eating him up every since he heard about his father being alive.

“It didna occur to me that ye thought I was dead,” Brian shrugged. “Of course, after a few years I figured that that’s what ye would ken happened to me. I had no idea what was going on.”

“It was Dougal, ye ken?”

“Aye,” Brian nodded. “I figured as much when the officers charged me wi’ supportin’ the Jacobite cause. I tried to tell ‘em that I had nothin’ to do wi’ it, but they wouldna listen. That bastard will get what’s comin’ to him.”

“Dougal is dead, Da. Died at the battle of Culloden,” Jamie said and then waved for two cups of whisky. “Ye’ll have heard of news of that no doubt?”

“Aye, we were well informed that the Jacobite Rebellion was a failure,” Brian smirked. “Not that I cared in the slightest, but I worried for ye son. I kent ye might have fallen into all of that mess since ye had spent so much time wi’ Dougal. I knew that bastard wasna right.”

“I almost was a part of it,” Jamie said, thanking the barmaid for bringing over the whisky. “Slainté,” he drank it in one gulp. “My wife stopped me from going.”

Brian’s looked up at his son, his eyes wide. “Ye have a wife?”

“Aye,” Jamie smiled. “Her name is Claire. Claire Fraser… she’s a Sassenach,” he smirked and Brian laughed.

“A Sassenach bride,” he shook his head, smiling and reached out to pat his son on the shoulder. “Do ye love her, lad?”

“I do. She is the most important thing to me… and the bairns. We’ve two and one on the way,” Jamie smiled.

“A wife and bairns,” Brian smiled. “I’m so happy for ye son. I just wish I coulda been there for it all.”

“Yer here now, Da. That’s all that matters.”

“And Jenny?” Brian smiled, his hand coming down hard on the table, “How’s my lass?”

“She’s married Ian Murray and has several bairns of her own as well.”

“Christ, I’m a grandda I suppose,” Brian ran his hand back through his dark hair. Jamie was still in disbelief that he was talking to his father and wondered why God had blessed him so.

“Ye are and I havena told Jenny about ye bein’ alive. I was waitin’ to find ye myself and I thought it best to just bring ye back to Lallybroch,” Jamie smiled and took a few bites of his stew. “We have to first return to Leoch to get Claire — she’s there waiting.”

“I havena stepped foot in Leoch since before yer Ma and I were wed,” Brian’s face was soft, a small smile on the corner of his lips as he remembered his wife Ellen. “Colum is still alive?”

“Aye, but he is in poor health. Claire is a skilled healer though, I’m sure she has taken good care of him,” Jamie said proudly.

“I canna wait to meet yer bride, laddie. I still canna believe I’m talkin’ wi’ ye now. I thought I would surely die in the prisons or be sent to the colonies.”

“I canna believe it myself, Da,” Jamie said tearfully. “Let’s get up to the room and rest. We’ll ride hard tomorrow and should hopefully arrive at Leoch in two days.”

They both rose from the table and Jamie helped his father who still felt a bit weak, up the stairs and to their room. His father fell fast asleep not long after climbing into bed, but Jamie was restless and sat by the window, breathing in the fresh air. All he could think about was the look on Jenny’s face when she saw that their Da was alive and had come home to them.

++++++

If everything went as he planned, Jamie and Brian were set to return to Leoch tomorrow. I’d been pacing all afternoon, worrying myself near to death thinking of all the possibilities. Perhaps this was all a trap and Jamie was now imprisoned and I wouldn’t know until it was too late. Or perhaps his father had died in prison and Jamie was now coming back to me, grief stricken.

My mind was racing with outcomes to this current situation and so I didn’t hear her when she said my name the first time.

“Lass? Are ye alright dear?” Mrs. Fitz had come to find me in the surgery of the castle. It was one of the few places I was familiar with and knew I could be alone.

“I’m fine. Just worried about Jamie is all,” I smiled. “He should arrive tomorrow.”

“Och, yer lad will be just fine. All the worrying isna good for the bairn,” she smiled, her hand reaching out to lightly rest over my stomach. “Come wi’ me and I’ll make ye a cup of tea.”

“That sounds lovely, thank you Mrs. Fitz,” I smiled and followed her back to the kitchens. Sitting down in the corner, I closed my eyes as she prepared the tea and tried to quiet my mind.

Later that night as I was preparing for bed, hoping it would be the last night I slept on my own without Jamie, a knock came from my door.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open and a teary eyed Mrs. Fitz appeared in the doorway. I rushed to her, taking her hands in mine. “What’s happened? Are you alright?”

“Tis… tis The MacKenzie,” she sniffed as more tears flowed down her rosy cheeks. “I went to check on him as I do just before retirin’ myself and he didna answer me.”

I turned to grab my robe as I was already in my shift and took Mrs. Fitz by the arm as we walked towards Colum’s bedchamber. I had wondered when he would take the cyanide I had given him — I just thought he would have waited until Jamie’s return.

“Did you check his pulse?” I asked and she looked at me with wide eyes. “His heart? Did you check to see if his heart was still beating underneath his skin?”

“Och, no lass. I only saw he wasna breathin’ and such,” she sniffed again. “His face was pale as a ghost.”

Pale skin and no breath were definitely signs of death. I only hoped Colum had enough sense to hide the bottle after he drank it — I had been accused of being a witch once, I wasn’t too keen on going through that again.

I raced up the stairs with Mrs. Fitz a bit slower behind me. The door was open and when I walked in, Colum’s wife and who I presumed his son (now a couple of feet taller) were by his bed.

“Lady MacKenzie,” I bowed my head out of respect and waited for her to acknowledge me, this was her home after all — and her husband.

“Mistress Fraser,” she smiled sadly and beckoned me forward. “I’m glad to have ye here, a fine healer. Mrs. Fitz will have told ye then…”

“Yes, she did. May I take a closer look?”

With her permission, I stepped forward to Colum and put two fingers on the inside of his wrist. Earlier in my visit, I had felt a weak pulse, but now there wasn’t even that. His skin was chilled and there was no rise and fall of his chest. I scanned the bed around him for signs of the vial I had given him but found nothing. I quickly glanced over beside the bed and that’s when I saw it.

The small vial of cyanide — completely full.

Colum MacKenzie had died of natural causes. I’d had a feeling he would have wanted to wait to see Jamie and Brian and I wished for his sake — as well as Jamie’s — that he would have held on a few more hours.

“I’m very sorry, Leticia,” I turned back to her. “He is in no more pain at least.”

“Aye,” she smiled. I remembered her from my time just a few years ago as a strong and brave woman. She still had that air about her and I wondered what her life would look like now without Colum. “He lived a life in pain, no doubt.”

“I’ll miss my father,” Hamish said quietly next to him.

“Of course you will,” I smiled. “He loved you very much. I saw that by even just spending a few weeks here.”

He buried his head against his mother and I heard the soft sound of weeping begin. Hamish wasn’t Colum’s son by blood — he was Dougal’s. The boy had now lost both his father’s and still at such a young age.

Quietly, I stepped out of the room and joined Mrs. Fitz back in the hallway.

“What will happen now? I know technically he wasn’t Laird anymore ever since Culloden, but will he have a Highland burial?”

“Aye, there will be a wake for a few days lass, followed by his burial in the kirk,” she nodded. “A feast to be sure, there will be lots of cooking to do.” I could see the wheels of her mind already spinning with meal preparations.

“If there is anything I can do to help, please do not hesitate to ask,” I smiled. We walked back down the stairs and down the long dimly lit corridor.

“I will lass, ye’ve been such a help. I’m sure Lady Leticia will be verra thankful for all that ye’ve done.”

“I haven’t done much,” I sighed.

She saw me back to my room and then left to inform who I assumed to be there rest of the castle of Colum’s death. What should have been a joyous return of Jamie and his father tomorrow, would now be bittersweet.

++++++

It was midday when both horses came trotting onto the grounds. My hands were covered in dirt from working in the garden all morning, partly an excuse to be outside to keep a watchful eye for Jamie. I could see his smile from far away — just as I could see that his father was riding beside him. With jet black hair, it was clear where Jenny got her looks from.

“Sassenach!” Jamie shouted, jumping down off his horse and before he had a chance to tie Donas up, he was in my arms. “I missed ye so.”

“I missed you too,” I exhaled. “There’s something you should know…”

He pulled back, his hands on my waist and I saw his smile fade. I hated to be the bearer of ill news, but it couldn’t wait.

“Colum died in his sleep last night.”

“He died?”

“Yes, it happened late and the whole morning has been a flurry of people preparing for his wake,” I frowned. “I thought I should tell you before you went in.”

“Thank ye, Sassenach. I wish he coulda seen my Da and I,” his brows furrowed and he leaned down to kiss me. “Tis good ye did or I woulda gone into the castle shoutin’ wi’ joy about my Da.”

“Speaking of your father,” I grinned, determined to not let the moment go completely to waste. “Can I meet him?”

“Aye, mo nighean…” Jamie smiled and took my hand. “I’d love nothing more.”

[maddie-grove]

Bi-Monthly Reading Round-Up (July/August)

PLAYLIST

"Breakaway” by Kelly Clarkson (The Wonder)

“The Lusty Month of May” from Camelot (Between a Highlander and a Hard Place)

“Blood on My Name” by The Brothers Bright (Vampires in the Lemon Grove)

“Too Good at Goodbyes” by Sam Smith (A Prince on Paper)

“All I See Is You” by Dusty Springfield (The End of Everything)

“Your Song” by Elton John (Patience and Sarah)

“Reach Out and Touch (Somebody’s Hand)” by Diana Ross (Touchy Subjects)

“When You’re Young and in Love” by the Marvelettes (Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda)

“No Sleep Tonight” by the Faders (Can’t Escape Love)

“Take Me in Your Arms (Rock Me a Little While)” by Kim Weston (Bury Me Deep)

“Cold Bread” by Johnny Flynn (Fludd)

“Thunder Road” by Bruce Springsteen (The Rest of the Story)

“How Can I Meet Her?” by the Everly Brothers (Someone to Honor)

“A Matter of Trust” by Billy Joel (The Scandalous Secret of Abigail MacGregor)

BEST OF THE BI-MONTH

The Wonder by Emma Donoghue (2016): Lib Wright, an English nurse who worked with Florence Nightingale in the Crimean War, is hired to observe Anna O’Donnell, an eleven-year-old Irish girl who claims to have not eaten for four months. Initially exasperated at the everyone’s credulity, Lib gradually realizes that there’s a lot more going on with Anna, her family, and her village than she thought...and that the girl may be in serious danger if she doesn’t intervene. Despite my love of Donoghue’s work, I put off reading this one for a while because the subject looked so grim. Although Donoghue does deal with difficult material, the growing relationship between prickly Lib and bright-but-haunted Anna makes the novel transcendent.

WORST OF THE BI-MONTH

Between a Highlander and Hard Place by Mary Wine (2018): After her highborn suitor shows his true colors, Athena Trappes sets fire to his house in self-defense and flees to Scotland. There she attracts the attention of Symon, Laird Grant, a melancholy widower. This Elizabethan romance has its moments, notably a lovely meet-cute at a May Day celebration, but it’s mostly dull with some irritating tropes.

REST OF THE BI-MONTH

Vampires in the Lemon Grove by Karen Russell (2013): In this collection, Russell tells the stories of various oddities, including women who turn into silkworms, presidents who are reincarnated as horses, and, yes, vampires in the lemon grove. The collection is remarkably consistent, and Russell shows enormous range in it. My favorites are the utterly chilling prairie horror of “Proving Up,” the hilariously absurd “The Barn at the End of the Term,” and the heartbreaking “The Graveless Doll of Eric Mutis.”

A Prince on Paper by Alyssa Cole (2019): Nya Jerami has existed under a cloud of suspicion and gossip since her abusive father, an adviser to the king of Thesolo, was sent to prison for poisoning his political rivals. Eager to start her life properly but unsure how, Nya finds unexpected help from Johan van Braustein, the seemingly devil-may-care stepson of the king of a European micronation. This is my favorite contemporary romance I’ve ever read, with two dynamic, endearing protagonists and a strong sense of setting. Cole expertly blends realistic modern-day concerns with frothy wish fulfillment (plus a dash of fairy-tale Gothic).

The End of Everything by Megan Abbott (2011): When her best friend Evie disappears, thirteen-year-old Lizzie only has scanty clues regarding where or why. As she becomes more and more consumed with finding the answer, she discovers dark secrets underlying her seemingly placid 1980′s suburb. Of all the Abbott novels I’ve read, this is the simplest and perhaps the most disturbing. I didn’t love it, but it’s very effective.

Patience and Sarah by Isabel Miller (1969): In 1810′s Connecticut, educated “spinster” Patience White finds herself intrigued by sweet, rough-hewn Sarah Dowling. Although their families contrive to keep them apart, they eventually make it to New York and start a farm together. Of the five f/f romance novels I’ve read, this is my very favorite. Miller captures the feel of early American literature very well, and the romance has a nice balance of tension and sweetness.

Touchy Subjects by Emma Donoghue (2006): This collection of short stories is, naturally enough, organized around “touchy subjects” like babies, domesticity, strangers, desire, and death. There are some jewels in this collection: the sad/funny “WritOr” (about a struggling author who takes on a resident-writer position at a rural college), the bittersweet “The Welcome” (about a naive young lesbian with a crush on a reserved trans woman), and the strangely uplifting “Enchantment” (about a rivalry between Cajun fishermen). There’s a lot of chaff to separate from the wheat, though; many of the stories are very slight.

Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli (2015): Simon Spier, an upper-middle-class teen in suburban Atlanta, isn’t 100% sure why he hasn’t come out as gay to his liberal family or friends, but for now he prefers to keep his sexuality (and a flirtatious email correspondence with an anonymous boy called Blue) under wraps. When a classmate finds out the truth and blackmails Simon into setting him up with his friend Abby, that task becomes a lot more complicated. Despite the rather disturbing premise, this is a super-cute YA novel that I would have loved when I was a YA. (At twenty-eight, I still liked it a lot; it’s just got a sense of immediacy that was a little lost on me thanks to my relatively advanced age, but would’ve been very appealing to me at sixteen.) 

Can’t Escape Love by Alyssa Cole (2019): Regina Hobbs, highly successful proprietor of a website about nerdy stuff, has it all together, except she’s suffering from a wicked case of insomnia. She’s convinced that only the voice of Gustave Nguyen, a puzzle designer she got to know after tuning into his livestream, can get her to sleep, so she contacts him to see if she can have a recording of his voice. Even though they both think it’s kind of weird, her request gets them talking...and MORE. This is a short but absolutely delightful novella about two neat people hooking up. The stakes are low, but the tensions stemming from Regina’s family keeps things interesting.

Bury Me Deep by Megan Abbott (2009): In the depths of the Great Depression, Marion Seeley finds herself alone in Phoenix while her morphine-addict husband chases redemption in Mexico. Working an administrative job at a local hospital, she falls in with party-girl nurse Louise, her TB-afflicted girlfriend Ginny, and (much to her sorrow) corrupt, handsome Joe Lanigan. Abbott’s historical crime novel takes a little while to heat up, but once it does it’s a very satisfying thriller. However, I was never convinced of Joe’s attractiveness even at a surface level, which was kind of an impediment to enjoying the story because Marion sure is.

Fludd by Hilary Mantel (1989): A mysterious stranger comes to a deeply Catholic, determinedly miserable English village in the 1950′s, claiming to be the new curate. While there, he greatly affects the lives of an alcoholic priest, his prim housekeeper, an unhappy young nun, and a pompous bishop. This is a highly peculiar, often enjoyable fable, although it drags quite a bit in the third quarter.

The Rest of the Story by Sarah Dessen (2019): Emma, an anxious seventeen-year-old who lost her mom to addiction five years ago, ends up spending part of the summer with her seldom-seen maternal relatives, who own a downscale motel in a lake town. While there, she learns about her mother’s secret history, observes the tensions between her family’s working-class community and the upscale resort people across the lake, has a low-key romance with a childhood friend, and practices her driving. This novel isn’t among Sarah Dessen’s best--the ending is a little rushed, and the romance feels perfunctory--but the setting is cool and Emma is an interesting protagonist.

Someone to Honor by Mary Balogh (2019): Years after her dad’s bigamy was revealed, resulting in her de-legitimization, reserved Abigail Westcott shows no interest in trying to re-enter society, instead opting to hang out with her convalescing Napoleonic War veteran brother. Unfortunately, his surly friend, Lieutenant Gilbert Bennington, is also intent on keeping her brother company to avoid his own problems, and he and Abigail don’t exactly get along. They come to understand each other, though, and decide to take a chance on marriage when Gilbert finds himself in trouble. I found this Regency romance to be solid but overly somber (not an infrequent issue with Balogh). I never got a great sense of who Abigail was and, while I sympathized with Gil, I also found him very irritating at times.

The Scandalous Secret of Abigail MacGregor by Paula Quinn (2015): In the late 1700′s, Queen Anne summons Davina MacGregor, secret eldest daughter of James II (and, were she not Catholic, rightful ruler of Great Britain), to court. Because Davina is sickly, her daughter Abigail, who has ambitions of being clan chieftain, goes to court in her place. She’s accompanied by Captain General Daniel Marlow, a Jacobite-hating English soldier and close friend of Anne’s. He’s got some trust issues and a stalker. This romance had a lot of potential, but too much of it is spent on the road and not enough on juicy court drama. The straight-version-of-Rachel-Weisz’s-character-in-The-Favorite villain was also, unfortunately, usurped by her much more boring lover.

[douxreviews]

Outlander - Book Review

This is a novel that is hard to define. Part historical fiction, part science fiction, part fantasy, a lot romance, it defies easy characterization. Much like the world it portrays. As the television series unfolds, we are going to use this page as the place to discuss differences between the series and the book as well as spoilers. If you don't want to know what's coming next, wait to read this until the end of the series or until you have read the book.

Outlander is set in the Scottish Highlands in the years leading up to the Jacobite Uprising of 1745. It was a time of huge unrest and conflict between the English and the Scots, with everyone taking sides and everyone suspicious of anyone who spoke with an accent not his own.

Diana Gabaldon does an excellent job of portraying the upheaval through the eyes of people who are just trying to survive in a world that takes no pity on the weak. Her attention to detail is phenomenal and she peoples her story with characters to whom we can all relate.

Claire is one of the great heroines in romantic literature, made even better by the fact that she is a flawed human being, not some paragon of virtue. She is very intelligent, using every bit of knowledge she has to not only survive, but to thrive in a world that is completely foreign to her. She is caring and compassionate, always looking for the best in those around her. She is quick witted and has a sharp tongue, not always a good thing in a world where women are meant to be quiet and obedient.

Jamie is the romantic hero, right up there with Mr. Darcy and Rhett Butler. He is handsome; he is strong; he is honorable; he is what every straight woman dreams about finding in a man. Although he has been through hell and back, he has not allowed his experiences to make him bitter or cynical. He lives his life with joy and humor, never taking himself or the others around him too seriously.

Together, these two are formidable. Gabaldon allows the romance to grow slowly. The two become friends first, promising each other nothing but the truth. Amazingly for a romance, they both keep their promise. This enables them to trust each other and rely on each other completely, not to mention approach each other with a vulnerability that is rare in any couple.

So often in romances, the story is over once the couple has come together. In this story, the marriage takes place less than halfway through the book. Yet, as the story continues, we watch these two grow closer. There are, indeed, the obligatory sex scenes; they are hot. But what makes this novel so much more is that the real intimacy between these two occurs not while they are making love, but while they are talking to each other. It is a rare thing in literature; it works.

Of course, there cannot be heroes without villains. Gabaldon made an interesting choice by having the villain, Black Jack Randall, be a direct ancestor of Claire’s first husband, Frank. Not only does Black Jack share his name, he resembles Frank so much it causes even Claire to miss a step or two at times.

Randall is truly sadistic and scary. Yet, we get enough glimpses of the man behind the mask to know that he is damaged himself, that the time in which he finds himself forces him to be someone he is not. While Claire can adjust, he cannot.

As this long novel unfolds, dozens of characters are introduced. Each is interesting in his or her own way and each is distinct. One of my favorites is Geilie, clearly different from everyone else in either the castle or the town. The reveal at her death of the smallpox scar was a truly OMG moment. It stayed with me long after I put the book down.

As much as I love this book, there are aspects of it that simply don’t work. For someone who has endured what he has, the scene where Jamie beats Claire always upsets me as it feels out of character for such a gentle soul, bearing the literal scars of something similar. I’m not sure what that scene is meant to show us, other than times were different and, by making him swear never to do it again, Claire is making Jamie an even better man that he already is. I wish there had been another way to portray that.

Similarly, the description of what Black Jack does to Jamie toward the end of the book is tough to read. It is brutal sexual violence that succeeds in showing us just how sadistic Randall is. My problem is that Jamie seems to recover from it a tad too quickly.

In spite of these flaws, Outlander is one of my favorite romances of all time. It is one of those stories I get lost in, swept away to another time and place. Not unlike Claire herself.

ChrisB is a freelance writer who spends more time than she ought in front of a television screen or with a book in her hand.

[renee-writer]

My Soul Calls to You Chapter Eight

AO3

They lay together is post loving bliss. Their son was probably already up bugging his grandsire. Claire is slightly disappointed that she didn’t finish cleaning the cabin but, some things take priority. With a smile at each other, they communicate with their eyes that they need to get up. Clothing is adjusted and he helps her up. With one more deep kiss, they head in, hand in hand.

As they enter the door, they hear Alex talking to his grandsire, “Grandsire, would you tell me a story?” He sits perched on Brian’s lap and the man is beaming. They stop out of eyeshot to listen.

Brian studies him, thinking about all the stories he could tell him, stories he had shared with his own dad and his had with him. “Have ye heard about the kelpie and his wife?” His grandson’s eyes meet his, as blue as the clear Scottish sky and slanted like his late grandmother’s. God rest her soul.

“No grandsire. Mam never told me that one. She did tell me lots of stories about the Highlands, warriors and stuff but not about the Loch Ness monster and his wife.” Claire bites her lip to keep from laughing as Jamie gems with pride at her. She has told their son Scottish tales.

Brian sits a bit taller in his chair and puffed his chest out some. He gets to teach his grandson something. He looks at the lad and says, “This is more about the kelpies then the Loch Ness monster. Have you ever seen a horse by the loch, my young lad?” Alex’s vigorous shack of his head has his red curls going everywhere. “Weel, your da is an excellent horseman and one day he was going alongside the loch, the one closest to the house. He sees a horse standing alone there.” His voice drops as he gets to the heart of the tale, “Everyone in Scotland knows , especially in the Highlands, that you don’t go near a horse that isn’t attended by anyone.”

“Why?”

“Because that grandson, is a kelpie in disguise. Kelpies will drag you down to the bottom of the loch. If you’re a lad, they will kill you there and eat you all up!” He pretends to take a bite out of the giggling lad’s stomach. “A lass now, they will make their wife, forcing her to tend to them and cook their fish, if they are blessed enough to have one that builds her a stove.” He wiggles his eyebrows at him and the lad laughs harder.

“I will never go near the loch without you or da. I don’t wanna go to the bottom of the loch cause I can’t swim yet.” Wee Jamie walks in and looks at his cousin with hopeful eyes.

“May Alex come out and play with the dogs?” he asked his grandsire.

“Aye, but stay near the house. Eh?”

“Aye grandsire.” They say together before scrambling out. When Alex passes his parents, he stops to give them each a hug before hurrying after his cousin.

Brian can’t help smiling as he thinks, “Ellie, we did it.” His son and daughter-in-law enter. After they are seated, he looks to Jamie, “Son, how long have you and Claire been married?”

“We have been married going on five years now. We were wed in France.” Claire keeps her lips closed hoping her glass face doesn’t give her away.

“That’s interesting since you have only been in France four years. You are not telling me the truth son?” He stares at him the same way he had when he was just a wean and was caught lying.

“Da, you are right. We aren’t. It is hard to explain, but, if you listen with your whole heart, I will explain.” Brian sat back, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited an explanation. “Da, I meet Claire three years ago, after I returned from France. We meet at the base of Craig Na Dun. You ken it’s reputation. Well it is true, because Claire came from the future, from 1946. At the end of the Raising, oh there will be a Jacobite rebellion that the English firmly win, anyway, at the end of it, in 1746, I sent her back through because she was carrying Alex and we knew what was coming. There, she had him and then came back, just recently, to be with me, and to take care of Lallybroch and her tenants.

She sent me a letter through Master Raymond, a fellow time traveler we meet in Paris. It told us, Jenny, Ian and, I, that she was coming back through on May 1st, 1750. But, somehow, we changed history. You see da, you weren’t around in 1743, in the original timeline. There was a Redcoat named Black Jack Randall. He was pure evil and flogged me so bad ye thought me dead. This caused you to drop dead right there. He isn’t in this timeline though so that never happened though mam, the babe she carries and, William, still remain gone.

It seems we have been given a chance to have a second chance, to protect Lallybroch and her people. Claire kens the future, ye see. After the Raising, the English come down hard on the Scottish people. We can prepare for that. Jenny recalls Claire. I don’t know if Murtagh or Ian does. But da, I want you to know that this is my Claire. She is a healer from her time and a midwife.” He squeezes her hand. “Do you believe me da?”

Brian stands, walks over to the whiskey trolley, gets and pours three generous glasses. He sets them in front of his son and his wife, taken one back to the seat with him. “I believe you mo mac. I wish your mam was here but, it seems something’s are unchangeable. You will need to tell me about this Jack Randall person. We will need to talk more about this, sort some things out. But not today.” He takes a big drink then stands. Walking over to Claire, he lifts her to her feet, “Welcome officially to the family, my daughter. You will be the healer here at Lallybroch. It seems you were sent here to be.” He then walks over to Jamie. He stands, preparing for whatever his dad’s reaction, whatever it is. His father pulls him into a hug. “Son, you have never lied to me. I am proud of you. I will hear your sister’s stories about that time and I am sure I will be even more proud of you when I hear how you saw to your family during that time. You are here and will be the next Laird. We will prepare for the future with my heart daughter’s help.. Now let’s celebrate. I have a brand new daughter and grandson.” He yells out to Mrs. Crook. “Prepare a feast.”

Jenny comes in and hugs everyone tight. “I have missed you both so much. I’m so glad you are back. I will call Ian and Murtagh in.” Jamie and Claire share a look of surprise. Murtagh walks in and gives Jamie a bear hug. He then comes to Claire, “My darling Goddaughter, I have so missed you. Tis’ good to have you back.” He kisses her cheek. Claire tears up, knowing that this man, a father figure to her and Jamie both, recalls her.

Brian calls his tenants together for a celebration of Jamie’s homecoming and to introduce Claire and Alex. Their tenants bought food and gifts. They fuss over Alex. But there is one who watches from the shadows. Leery Fraser, who is a relative on Lord Lovett’s side, watches as her mam and dad greet the English wench. No matter that she speaks Gaelic like a native or that she has a wean that looks like Jamie, she is an interloper. How dare her parents gift her with some of their best honey. How can they make a fuss over the wean that should be hers, not that Claire’s! They know that she has always been in love with the Laird���s son. Now he has a wife! Oh, she will get a job at the manor house and bit her time. She will find a way to get rid of her. She joins her parents and bows low to them. Claire smiles at her as inside the lass seethes with jealousy when she turns a brilliant smile to her Jamie.

Alex, clings to his dad’s leg, enduring the attention because his parents are there. After a while, he asks his da, “May I go play with the other children da?”

“Aye son.” As he runs off, he feels eyes on him. He turns and just sees his parents and some of the others, their tenants, da and grandsire says. With a shrug, he joins the others.

Sussex, England 1946

Mrs. Randall prays one day not to have to return to the manor house. She would prefer to stay in London permanently. Her husband won’t allow her to have a townhouse there, even though they live separate lives. She knows of the mistress' of course. But doesn’t care. She only has to endure her husband to try to make a child. That was enough.

Twelve maids in twelve months. He is behind it. She knows this. A sigh. She has her own money and would leave the evil man if she could. He has control of it. Maybe she can find a way to stop that. Live her life free of his evil. His family money had been made off tobacco and slavery and is as reprehensible to her as he is.

To free herself as Scotland had from England, that is the goal. She will talk to some people there. Now she is off to London, hopefully never to see this wretched manor again.

Frank rode his horse to the next town over to see his mistress. He finds her laying on the bed in a silky nightgown he had bought her from China. He takes off his coat and loosens his tie, unbuttoning the top button. She turns over and looks him straight in the eye as she plunges a knife into his chest. He looks dumbly from the knife to her.

“I asked you to divorce her. You wouldn’t. I will no longer be your mistress, sir. I have to many bruises on my body for that.” She leaves him lying there, in a pool of spreading blood. She cleans up in the kitchen, throws the nightgown away, and leaves for London after relocking the door and leaving the keys in the mail slot. She is never heard from again.

As Frank dies, a flash comes to him. Scotland. An open car door and a woman with brunette curly hair. He closes his eyes, took a final breath.

[monigheandonn1743]

The Diary

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5

Chapter 6

He ran his thumb around the rim of his pint glass, staring blindly at the dark murky liquid, as laugher rose up in the crowd around him. From the moment he entered the pub, he’d been bombarded with one question after another, as eager locals had come over to meet the new Laird Broch Tuarach.

Hugh hadn’t been lying when he’d declared him a hot topic. They’d wanted answers to questions he’d not even thought to ask himself, and while it pissed him off, he patiently explained his basic plans.

Over and over again.

Thankfully, the pub quiz had started ten minuets ago, and he’d been left in relative peace. After finding a quiet corner, he’d eventually sat down, and had been staring into his Guinness ever since.

He didn’t want to be here.

After a day spent digging through a derelict house, and crating up hundreds of books and antiques, a hot shower, clean clothes, and a cold pint had been more than welcome. But he was passed ready to get back.

Including Jamie, Hugh and Fergus, there was a team of sixteen working on the house. Five of them had set to work on the generator, running wires, and setting up lamps all throughout the house. The remaining ten had been working with Jamie to get everything packed up. Together they’d managed to completely empty the ground floor and everything, apart from the old diaries, and the crap they’d dumped in the skip, were now on their way to Edinburgh.

He’d keep everything in storage for now, and take Jerry with him to go though it, when he went back home. But the diaries he’d needed to keep.

After Hugh had finished reading the passage, he’d questioned Jamie relentlessly. He wanted to know why it was so important. But having absolutely no idea what the hell was going on, he’d simply shrugged, and told him the same story he’d told Ned.

There was a squatter, and she’d been researching his family.

Hugh had accepted his explanation, but had still eyed him warily as he’d left the room to help the lads set up the generator. In a state of mind numbing confusion, Jamie had pulled out his phone and sent off two quick emails. One to Ned to call off the search, and one to Gail to begin a new one. He needed answers and to get them he needed to dig into the past.

Reaching for his phone, he pulled open Gails response. It was short and sweet, and after reading it for the tenth time, he downed the last of his pint, said goodnight to the lads and left the pub. The bed and breakfast was across the street, but instead of going in and up to bed, he walked quickly towards his car and climbed in.

He’d only had one drink, he was fine to drive.

With a flick of a button the car came to life, and after connecting his Bluetooth, he selected the number Gail had sent and pulled out onto the road. It rang and rang and he was just considering hanging up when a breathless female voice answered.

“Hello.”

“Good evening,” he responded, surprised. He been expecting a man not a woman, and it threw him for a moment. “I’m not sure if I have the right number, but I was looking for a Mr Frank Randell.”

“Oh, of course. Yes, this is his number, excuse me one second and I’ll get him for you.” She rushed out in a sweet, melodic voice. He could hear the soft tapping of her heels as she moved quickly to find him, and the sound of muffled voices in the background. “Frank, there’s a call for you.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know.” She admitted, and Jamie could almost hear the shrug in her voice. It was followed by an impatient huff and soft crackling as the phone changed hands.

“Frank Randell.”

“Mr Randell. I’m looking for some information with regards to an old Scottish property.” He explained as he turned right onto the long road that would lead him back to Lallybroch. “I believe you’re something of an expert in that field?”

“That’s right…Mr?”

“Fraser.”

“Mr Fraser. My areas of expertise are the Jacobite risings and the clearance, but I do delve into other aspects of Scottish history. What kind of information are you looking for?”

“I’ve recently acquired a property about forty miles outside Inverness. I’m looking into its early history, and the people that lived there in the seventeen forties. Around about the time of the second rising.”

The line went quiet for a moment, but he heard the rustling of papers, and the soft creak of a chair as he sat down.

“Fraser.” He mumbled quietly to himself. “Are you referring to Beaufort? I had heard that it changed hands recently. It went to a…different branch of the family I believe.”

“No.” Jamie sighed. Christ this man was quick. It had taken him less than a minute to work out who he was.“I have my own team of historians working on Beaufort. This is personal. I need it kept separate and managed discreetly.”

“Alexander Malcom.” Randell surmised quietly, the sudden awe in his voice making Jamie roll his eyes.

“Yes. But again, it’s not a business request. If I decide to offer you the job, and you accept, then you’ll be invoicing me directly. Not my company. Is it something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes, of course.” He rushed out. “My wife and I are admirers of your work, Mr Fraser. And from a professional point of view, what you’ve accomplished for the heritage in such a short amount of time, is fascinating.”

And completely irrelevant to this conversation.

“Thank you, but I assure you, I haven’t done it alone. But as my people are tied up in the heritage projects…”

“Of course, of course. I’ve obviously done a lot of research on the highland clans from that era. It’s highly likely that I already have some of the information you’re looking for. What is it that you require?”

“I have a list of names and a rough time frame. I want everything that can be found on them from the day they were born, until the day they died.

“If you text your address details to this number, I’ll have my lawyer courier over a confidentiality agreement. Once we have it signed I’ll send you everything you need to get started.”

“Okay.” Randell hedged hesitantly. “But most of the information you’re looking for is a matter of public record. It hardly requires confidentiality when anyone can find it.”

“The historical reference, yes.” Jamie agreed as he turned left on to the dirt track. “But I’ll be supplying you with personal information about myself and my family, and giving you access to private historical documents. I don’t trust easily, Mr Randell, and I don’t want to see the information published in a new Oxford journal.”

“Completely understandable. Send over the paperwork and I’ll be happy to sign it.”

“Good, I’ll have it to you tomorrow. Once it’s back with my attorney, I’ll give you a call and we can go though the details.”

“Splendid. I look forward to working with you, Mr Fraser.”

“We’ll talk soon.” He disconnected the call, and stayed sat in the car at the front of the house as he composed an email to Ned.

He needed the confidentiality agreement to be iron clad. He didn’t know this man from Adam, and if he found out about Claire’s diary, he didn’t want his insanity splashed all over the tabloids.

Not that he actually thought he was insane anymore. Fergus and Hugh had both seen the diary, and Hugh had clearly read her most recent entry. The one that had been written about her encounter with him.

To be honest, he no longer knew what to think. Every time he attempted to come up with a new explanation his mind went completely blank. He was out of logic and it was frustrating the hell out of him. He didn’t believe in the supernatural, but he was suddenly faced with the very real possibility that the house was actually haunted.

But surely ghosts can’t write in a fucking diary?

He scrubbed his hand across his face and took a deep breath, before climbing out of the car. It was just after sunset, but it wasn’t quite dark yet, and he took a moment to look up at the house as he fished the keys out of his pocket.

It looked like a haunted house, he couldn’t deny that. With a few boarded up windows, crumbling stones, and small saplings springing out of the pointing. It was a classic horror movie in the making. He was sure that if he searched YouTube, he’d most likely find some random teen ghost hunter, roaming the halls of his house, with an amp metre and an infrared camera.

Shaking his head, he walked up the front steps and opened the door. It was almost pitch black inside, so flipped on a couple of lights as he made his way down the hall, and up the winding staircase to his room. He’d purposefully left the diary on the windowsill, rather than under the mattress. He wanted to see if it would move, and what her reaction would be to finding it there: if she had one at all.

And if she really did exist.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that, although the year was different, the date coincided with his. Today was the 17th June, and although she didn’t write everyday, he was hoping that moving the diary would encourage her to do so.

“Yeah, ye still fucking crazy.” He huffed as he walked into the room, heading straight for the window. He was attempting to communicate with a bloody ghost, like some crackpot medium, and if that wasn’t a sign that he was crazy, he didn’t know what was.

It was with a deep sense of disappointment that he saw the book still sat where he’d left it. It hadn’t moved an inch, and when he flipped it open, the last entry was the same. Closing it gently, he moved backwards and sat on the end of the bed.

He didn’t have a fucking clue what to make of it all. If she was a ghost, the two incidences could have been a freak anomaly, where their aurora collided or some cosmic shit like that. But her being a spirit didn’t explain how she was still going about her life like it was 1747. Everyone she loved was apparently still there with her. She’d delivered a baby the night before he’d arrived, and she had people searching the house for him.

And it didn’t explain the garden he’d seen.

So what was it then? Some kind of rift in the fabric of time? A worm hole? Did the diary exist in two places at once?

He looked over at it and frowned. Jesus Christ, he felt like a complete twat even thinking it, but it randomly made sense in his warped mind. It was impossible, but it would explain why it looked so new.

It was new.

So many things in the house must have changed since she’d lived here. The house itself had changed and been extended, he’d seen the makings on the original blueprints. But she made no reference to any of it, so she must be in 1747. Even the mattress she so diligently hid her diary beneath, would have been replaced numerous times before he’d swapped it out for his air bed.

But maybe the bed-frame was the same, and the bedside table. The two places he’d found the diary.

So where had it been when it had disappeared from the bottom of the bed? Had she placed it on a piece of furniture that no longer existed? Or had it vanished because she was writing in it?

Was he actually really considering this?

He was a rational, twenty first century business man. Renowned and respected across the globe. Yet here he was seriously considering that he’d found some kind of…what?

A talisman to the past? Physical proof that Einstein and Hawkins were right? A link to a long dead ancestor?

Was she an ancestor? Had she eventually married William Fraser? Was she his great, great, great, great grandmother or something? Or was it a parallel universe? Everybody seemed to have the same Goddamn names. Surely that wasn’t normal.

“Jesus, Jamie! What about any of this is fucking normal?” He growled as he pushed to his feet and walked back towards the window. He needed to get the historical information from Randell so he could find out once and for all.

He reached for the diary, wanting to read through it again, but as his fingers brushed against the leather it disappeared.

“Shit!” He hissed, jumping back in shock, one hand still outstretched, and the other clutching his suddenly pounding heart. “Jesus fucking Christ! It disappeared. It actually disappeared.” He gasped, backing away, then moving forward again to quickly check behind the curtain, and on the floor. “Motherfucker!”

It was gone, vanished, just like that.

He suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself. His body was flooded with so much adrenaline that he was physically shaking, and he couldn’t keep still. He paced the space between the window and the door, over and over, backwards and forwards, until he suddenly stopped and turned to face the bed.

Surely if she was writing in the diary, then when she was finished she’d place it under the mattress or on the bedside table. If that was the case, he wanted to see the exact moment that it reappeared. Reaching for his pillows and sleeping bag, he dropped them to the floor, grabbed the air bed, and set the whole thing up in front of the door.

Then he sat down and waited.

And waited and waited.

For over an hour he sat staring at the place he expected it to turn back up. He barely even blinked, and although he was desperate for a piss, he didn’t move. This was huge, really fucking huge, and he was so agitated, he was surprised that his shitty heart hadn’t completely given out.

But there wasn’t even a twinge. It just pounded rapidly in his chest, pumping more and more adrenaline through his blood stream.

How much is she writing?

If she was writing at all. His theory could be a load of crap, and in the morning he might be going back to the drawing board. But if she was…Jesus, he didn’t know. Trying to wrap his head around something like that was migraine inducing. God help him if anyone ever found out. The government would slap him with the official secrecy act before he could blink, and he’d probably be thrown in the loony bin.

Or assassinated.

Most likely the latter. The ramifications of being able to communicate with someone from the past were astronomical. It could completely change history.

If the diary worked both ways.

And there was no evidence to say that it did. For now it had disappeared, and who was to say that it would ever show up again?

He sighed and lent back against the wall attempting to ease the pressure of his aching bladder. There was an empty water bottle on the floor by the bed, and if the diary didn’t turn up soon, he was going to have to bite the bullet and piss in it. It was either that, or peeing out of the window. Neither was appealing, but desperate times and all that.

He rubbed at his newly formed stubble, then almost fell on his arse, as he jumped to his feet and dived across the room.

It was back!

As quickly as it had disappeared it had reappeared on the bedside table, and he snatched it up and quickly flipped to the last entry.

Holy mother of God!

Saturday 17th June 1747

Who are you?

Where are you?

How are you getting into my room?

I locked the door this morning, safe in the knowledge that no other person in the house has a key, and that my possessions would be safe from the prying eyes of a stranger. Yet you have been here again, I know you have.

Why?

What do you want from me?

If Jonathan has sent you to play games with my mind, you can inform him that it will not work. If his savagery failed to break me, I can assure you that his parlour tricks will be as unsuccessful.

I am not mad, and he will not make me so.

I will not lie and say that I am unafraid of him, there would be no point, you have already stollen that truth from my mind. But I will not cower before him, there is nothing he can do that has not already been done.

But that being said, being a pawn in the games of a sick and twisted man, does not explain your ability to walk through walls. Nor does it shed light on your vanishing act.

Without your propensity to move inanimate objects, I’d presume you a ghost, but that is not the case is it? You are as real as I am, for you have held my diary in your hands, just as I know you are now.

So tell me, sir, what exactly it is that you hope to achieve? Are you attempting to scare me? Are you planning to hurt me? Or are you simply a voyeur to my life, intending to pry out all of my secrets?

With no wish to disappoint you, allow me to say that your endeavours are in vain. I do not fear you. You can not possibly hurt me more than I already have been. And my life is invariably dull.

But by all means, pray continue, for you will soon find the truth to my words for yourself, and I will gladly say that I told you so.