#saumel castell imagine

[likesomekindofcheese]

The Songbird of Jamestown Ch.1 (Samuel Castell x fem! Reader)

4A/N: Here it is!!! I’m so excited and my inner history nerd is quaking! I was so inspired by reading @bluesfortheredj​ “A Beautiful Mistake” I began typing some hc’s and the HC's led to this...whoops! Here are a couple things before we delve in:

One, there are two versions. One with the reader and the other with an OC, so pick what you like! Shout out to dear @ramibaby for helping me with the crisis of which one!

And two, I took some liberties from the world of the show as a part of my research since I came across one article on women in Jamestown and was shook, to say the least. Sometimes history really is stranger than fiction! It also benefitted the story. I did my best to balance historical reality with what worked in this piece of fiction.

Three, full disclosure: I have not seen that much of Jamestown since access to that show is limited where I’m from. I’ve read a lot, read summaries about the episodes and characters. I’m not walking in blind. So if there is an inaccuracy in the characters or events or location, that is why.

Please Enjoy and any feedback is appreciated!

Word Count: 5,000+

“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever known, Y/N!”

“Am not, Alice!”

Alice burst into laughter as you playfully smacked her arm. It was an afternoon and you had been on the ship for a week. Though you entered that boat as strangers, there is a power in women to bond and join in such situations for people who open themselves up.

Alice was one of such people.

“It’s true! You can make no such face to hide what you feel and whenever you lie, you do all sorts of things!” she teased. 

You were both sitting on your own mattress, conversing with each other. Your legs were tucked beneath you and you shoved your bag to the side to make room.

Verity walked by, it was the afternoon and she had just awoken while most had been up for at least two hours. Her red hair was loose and tossed from sleep and her eyes still blinked with sand.

“Tis true, no resisting! You’re a terrible liar Y/N! You told me you were playing that story game with the others and you lost because everyone knew when it was a lie!” she spat.

You sighed with a slight shrug, brushing it off. 

“Well, I guess it is true, I cannot tell a lie since I’m not good at it” you confess.

Verity smirked a little and studied you both.

“It will do well for you to learn how to lie, it may save your skin!” she says with a wink. The thousands of life-saving lies she told in her life seemed to glint in her face as she walked away.

 Alice looked down, meekly.

“Well, I cannot lie with you…I’ve been thinking…about my betrothed today…” she confessed. “I was praying he would be a good man…” she added with a sheepish grin “ a pleasant looking one.”

“Me too!” a passerby commented, leaning forward to join.

Other heads of women popped around like the white heads of rabbits eyeing an unlocked vegetable garden. Some came here already engaged. Others did not and entered single. They were all chattering with nerves and sometimes optimism.

A new home was slowly approaching us.

It would just be a matter of arrival for our fates to be determined. And in a town overpopulated by men, marriage was almost certainly guaranteed. That as well as some land of one’s own and a place to stay. Almost unheard of in England.

In the little bed next to yours, there was a slight groaning and turning of a curly, yellow head of hair. Jocelyn got up, blinking sand from her eyes. She squinted and looked over the situation. Seeing it was light gossip, she turned away and began to stretch her arms and awaken.

“What about you, Y/N?” one woman with a pretty, round face and big brown eyes asked. She bit her lip a little mischievously. “Are you betrothed? I swear, unless you’re with Alice or Verity, you barely speak three words together!”

You feel your hands shake a bit, having to recall why you came. 

Fear squelched your insides. Images returned you tried to block. Your mother’s teary eyes. Her voice trying to reason with... the woman, your anger wiping her name from your memory. Mother was failing. Your father’s face would be as it always was- blank and far away at home. Unable to protect you from her. The woman’s voice was still bleeding inside you. It rang so loud across her manor that birds flocked away in a panicked caw in the distance.

“So, help me- you will be married! It is either Jamestown or my brother or forget my purse altogether! So make your choice!”

“What are you thinking, Y/N? We only wanted to know…I’m so sorry, I...” your asker trailed off while backing away slowly.

“I…I’d rather not talk about why. But…I’m not engaged. just hope I meet someone…I just hope you have a good man! Every one of you! You are all lucky to be engaged at all! I shall likely end up a spinster who sits at balls and just sings and plays pianoforte for entertainment!” you answer, crossing your arms.

“I’m not engaged!” said one voice, with a few echoing behind.

“Oh, Y/N, one man is bound to propose to you!” Alice added cheerfully. She leaned over and gave you a smile.

Another woman, heavy-set and with bits of black curls on her head, offered you a short embrace. They all knew you had pain inside you. On the first day of departure, you cried many tears. Your appetite was gone. You kept always to yourself, and they noticed. Until Alice and Verity began to talk to you. Then a shell inside you broke.

 A few more came to join in the embrace and encouragement.

“You at least can choose who to marry” the first woman comforted.

“Better a spinster than a miserable wife!” Verity quipped as she returned, checking her fingernails for dirt.

Jocelyn had finished dressing and passed by, ignoring everyone. She looked a little green and desperate for air.

“Jocelyn! Join us!” Alice invited cheerfully.

“I will in a minute,” she said, barely turning her head.

“We’re discussing our betrothals! You’re betrothed too, Jocelyn, aren’t you?” Alice asked.

“Yes. I even met him. Samuel Castell is his name.” she answered. She brushed a bit of dirt off of her skirt in disgust.

“You’re so lucky to know him!” you added.

Jocelyn only gave a small nod as confirmation of her luck and pranced upstairs. There was only so much you could do to befriend her.

Finding you were going to sleep next to each other the first day, Jocelyn looked over the simple cotton dress and the muddy shoes you wore and pursed her lips. Jocelyn never wanted to even make small talk about the weather. She even less rushed to your side when the melancholy of the start of your journey began either.

Other women flooded around, sharing stories and giggling or mourning about their upcoming marriages. Some swapped stories of their known intended, what crops they would grow on their promised bit of land, and others shook their heads with the uncertainty. Other subjects until it seemed there were at least eight conversations going on at once. They had forgotten their semi-empty bellies. The darkness. That they were all crowded together with barely a wink of privacy and had probably seen more of one member then they would have wished.

You only nodded and sat down, enjoying the entertainment of the chatter and the slow sway of the boat on the water.

Perhaps this new life would be better.

That night, you woke from your sleep slowly. It was still night and pitch black but a familiar sound caught you. It was crying. A voice crying in her bunk across from you.

You crawled up, taking wide steps to accommodate the rock of the ship and grateful for space. With your shift on, you seemed almost ghostly. You turned to the lump on the bed crying and tapped her shoulder.

“What is it?” you ask softly.

She turned around to face you. Almost too young to join the passage. She had large dark eyes, black hair, a soft, round nose, and a tiny mouth. She was tossing and turning and clenching her small fists.

“Are you alright?” you asked again

She began to cry a little. “I can’t sleep, I’m so worried. I miss my father…and I don’t know if I want to marry Henry. Most of all, I don’t want to go there, I’ll die!” She sniffled; her face was burying itself in the pillow.

“I feel the same as you sometimes” you confirm. You crawl on her mattress and sit on your knees as she gushes out the fears keeping her awake.

You mostly listened for a while, about her fears for the colony. About the lack of food, the harsh winters, rampant diseases, and the wild rumors of the Indian natives. You tried my best to talk and reason with her out of it. But it was real. The land was infertile. At some point, only 38 men were left. Bugs buzzed everywhere on that land carrying fevers.

This was all she knew about Jamestown. Some of these you knew already.

“But…we will make a home. Somehow. We will survive. We will find happiness in anything: a sunrise, a new baby, a kind word…anything. At least, that’s what I think when I worry about when that anchor drops” you assure.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She raised her head and wiped a lock from her sniffling face.

You nodded. “Is there anything else I can do to help you?”

“Help me fall asleep? I haven’t slept since England.” She said. Observing the darkness under her eyes it was no exaggeration.

“How can I help you fall asleep?” you asked.

“I was just…remembering you saying you knew about music, I mean, I know you were joking but…you said you knew how to sing and… and…my mam would always sing me lullabies when I was little and…I was just missing her, so, could you sing one? Please?”

“I know a couple, yes,” you confirmed. 

You crawled off so she could lie back down on the bed and be tucked in. You gently held her hand and sang a lullaby as quiet as the waters and skies outside.

It was as if she was just a child again, with the promise of infinity and no worry other than being caught in some innocent mischief

You wandered back into bed quickly, afraid of a half-awake “shut up!” upon the hearing of your little cradlesong.

But they heard anyway.

And the reaction was quite the opposite.

“I think I heard you singing last night- do you know this one? I can’t remember the name though; I know the tune…” one tall woman suggested as soon as the sun was up.

You obliged, easily identifying it as an old drinking song.

Then came another asking for a song.

And another.

And another.

Soon some of the quieter duller hours on board were filled with that of women of every voice-high, low, in tune, out of tune, quiet, loud, knowing all the lyrics, knowing some, knowing none, all singing songs led sometimes by you.

Verity smiled as she listened to a rendition of Summer is a Comin’ in while leaning on the steps and peeling off a peel of an orange.

“She’s a little nightingale, that one!” she said with a point at you. “You should charge a few pence a song and soon you’ll be wealthy enough to buy England itself!”

You smiled shyly at the compliment.

But weeks later, the nerves and fears had won once again. The night was darker. Lightning sometimes flashed through the holes on the ship. It rocked violently. No one could stand without falling. Rain poured down on the deck, dripping generously on our heads. The lanterns we set up to see around your part of the deck in the evening were shaking. Some nervous hands and arms fled up to hold them still as not to risk a fire. Thunder and panicked voices surrounded your eardrums. No matter how hard you tried, sleep refused to come.

The women were crying and groaning with their fear. Alice calmly got up and reasoned with each one. Your own throat felt exhausted from all the singing you had done today. If someone asked you for a soothing ballad or ironic shanty, you knew you had to say no. You hoped no one would ask you, even if it would help.

Oh Alice, you dear saint, how I wish I was more like you.

You investigated your bag near your side and got out an old copy of your dear Dante’s Inferno.  If you hid under the blankets, you couldn’t be bothered out of your book.

Now you were alone with the warm blanket and your old poetry. Anything to waste away the long hours and plant a little bit of England in Virginia. Even the few books you snuck in your bag felt like warriors by your constant defense on this journey.

Perhaps later, in the morning, I can sneak on the dock and read it with the sunrise- it’ll be pretty. And no one will interrupt me. Maybe I’ll even find some dried fruit and sneak some bites.

As you reached the section of the seventh circle and the reveal of the punishment of the murderers in hell, you heard Alice whispering to everyone. Her voice was getting closer. Alice’s footsteps reached Jocelyn’s bunk.

You barely listened to what they said, but then a confession caught your ears that you couldn’t ignore, not even with Dante’s adventures.

Jocelyn told Alice she murdered someone.

You began to cover your hand with your mouth to keep yourself from being given away.

She explained it all. It felt like a dream. You kept pinching myself to be sure you were hearing this.

It was a man. He had promised her marriage. She had given herself over to him. But he was promised to someone else. So, he died over a cup of poisoned wine and Jocelyn’s triumphant face.

You almost believed it was a story, but Jocelyn seemed so earnest. So, despite her station and situation, she could be convicted. And that was why she was here.

You knew on thing as Alice walked away. Such information had to remain private.

After all, you felt pity for Jocelyn. She was just an innocent. Seduced. Betrayed. The image of her crying in a cold jail cell won over any bitterness you had felt by her snobbery. Even if she wasn’t pregnant now, she was a woman ruined. Unwanted. Stained forever for one mistake.

As you turned over, nearly drifting to sleep, your mind kept asking you once I was on the edge of dreaming…

Would I do the same if I was in her position?

You dreamt of minotaurs and rivers of blood. Waking up, you were half in the dream. You thought you saw a minotaur chasing you, ready to tear you to bits and drag you to hell...or was it, Jocelyn, chasing you? You didn’t know

You rushed out, clutching your book to the upper deck…and the sun was rising. It was as beautiful as Paradise as you had imagined. You almost sobbed from relief, waking slowly to light and water.

Early mornings were heaven for solitude. 

It became a secret ritual to awake early and crawl up there. Barely anyone was on deck. No more crowding. No more forced conversation or deep smells of bodies compacted together. You kept doing it until your body was naturally used to waking up when the sky was still in its pink-orange glow. Peace came at a small cost.

You crawled up there to read and breathe silently for weeks. It was too delicious.

The advantage of a ship like this was that everyone was left to their own schedule and no one was forced to get up before they wanted.

This morning it seemed as if all of the lower deck was snoring like old dogs. You crept out of bed, donned your petticoat, skirt, and stays folded by the corner of the bed as usual. You took your hair and crumpled it to your head to tie it under your cap. Barefoot, you crept over the wooden floors and quietly up the stairs. You opened the door a sliver so you could wiggle through with as little light revealed as possible.

This morning, the wind felt especially cold and sweet. The night had felt so stuffy you realized how refreshing it was. There seemed to be much less crew on board than usual. Even when men wandered around to their chores, they ignored you or gave you a curious glance before hurrying away.

You smiled and nearly went dizzy again from the blissful eternity of that pink sky.

The wind blew more. Kissing your face and making your skirt fly up like wings. Impulsively, you untied your cap and released your hair to the wind. You breathed in the air and listened to the waves of the sea as if for the first time. You felt the wind rustle against every bit of me, as if I was among the sky, flying.

There was no crying. There was no illness. There was no end. There was certainly no Jamestown. Only life, freedom, and beauty everywhere.

You felt your hair whipping around in the wind. Without a cap, it felt bigger and longer then it really was. It was always up, proper, and hidden. And now it was free. It changed direction with the wind.

The sea whooshed calmly. You walked over and truly smelt the salt, cleansing the palate of everything inside. Everything was perfect for just a second.  

A rough voice rang out from high above.

“Land ho! Land hoooooooooo!”

You shot my head up to see a short, large sailor yelling and pointing to the west with fervor.

Had I heard it right?

You dashed up to his side and felt your stomach drop

Yes, he was right. A green patch of land was pulling up, slowly, but surely. Following above it a blanket of grey clouds. The wind was pushing it closer and closer.

The journey was done.

The words of land ho echoed everywhere. It seemed as if it was like church bells on Easter until it was the only words yelling in everyone’s ears.

Women charged from below to see the first patch of land in ages. You darted back as they gasped, cheered, shrieked and repeated the news, everyone stretched their necks and stood on their toes just to see that green. Jocelyn rushed to you and looked ahead as well, squinting in the distance, albeit, with less outward enthusiasm than the others.

Then she looked at you with your free hair.

“Are you a lady or not?” she oozed.

“Why, yes, any woman with dignity can be a lady, no matter where they’re from” you answered. You felt your stomach cave in with regret at the last dart at her.

“Well, Ladies keep their hair up. You’ll want to put your hair up! You might meet your husband in a matter of minutes, do you want the men to think something lewder of you? Especially without stockings” she spat. She turned her face to the land with barely a twitch.

You blinked away a couple tears. It was no use crying. Or fighting. At least you could fantasize a little about pushing her down to the sharks.

You retreated down to put it up again and don stockings and shoes. The clouds were already covering half the sky by the time you went back up. Windiness made them rush.

Maybe she was right, after all. Being among the number of women not engaged, maybe a few bachelors would arrive to preview what was still available. You kept checking your dress to make sure you seemed a little presentable.

The hours of preparing and getting ready for the landing flew by, almost dizzyingly. Alice was brushing her hair for the two hundredth stroke when you realized how pale she seemed despite her lovely, pink smile.

“I can’t believe it! In a few days, I’ll be married! But what if…what if…oh, I’m so nervous!” she whimpered.

You walked over and took the brush from her. You offered a few gentle strokes and barely touched her outer coat.

“It’s normal for one to fret so much, Alice! If it brings you peace, you may always look for me if you don’t like him! We’ll be bitties who complain together!” you promised.

She turned around and nodded her head, giggling a little at “bitties” and offered a thank you a hundred times.

The ship had reached the dock and we went up to the upper deck. The women about to be engaged had put on what second-best they could bring- the best of their clothes had to be for the wedding. Each one was fussing about hats, what had or hadn’t been spoiled or crumpled, which color looked the best, and “Charity you best return that socking at once or I swear!”

Save Verity among the future brides of course. She never truly cared, and she said her husband would have to put up with what he saw.

You ran up to the upper deck and gathered in lines, the ships tallness blocking our view of the people below. Many began to grumble with disappointment at the first peek of the new land (and the new people more so). The captain explained how it would go while stroking his beard in amusement at the tension. You would be announced as you walked out of the ship so that any future husbands could see his bride and escort her to the colony.

You put yourself quite close, as to be with Alice. She was still smiling yet her hands were shaking, and you realized so were yours. You clutched hands with her for comfort. And she for yours.

You waited and listened to each name, still holding tightly. Only when she edged forward in front of you, almost to that precipice, did she release her palms.

Alice’s name was yelped up. She walked up the board and down into the land. You tried to poke your head around for a glimpse at this mystery fiancée, but the boat’s tall sides blocked the view yet again, even with a different angle.

You pulled out, on instinct, the old copy of Ovid that was poking out of your bag. Maybe you shouldn’t have packed so much. It felt like it was Alice’s hand to squeeze onto.

The man called out your name and you slowly started the walk.

Your shaky legs were not assisted with the height of the board. The first sight was disappointing at first- the sky was grey dampening any thrilling brightness Virginia could offer and there was only the stony shore itself and the crowd staring. The air was warm and humid here. You could still smell and hear the sea. Fear overwhelmed you at first and you put your eyes down to your black shoes poking out of your blue skirt. It was embarrassing to have one’s first few steps analyzed so.

“Get on, girl! We have more waiting behind you!” the man hissed.

As you walked closer to the end, you decided you would look at the strangers back. The crowd was plenty. Two people caught your eye-There was one very tall man and a very small man. You saw the tall man pointing at you and whispering. The small man looked back with wide eyes.

As you reached land, your feet nearly tripped. It was the first still land you saw in months. You felt a little sick and boldly looked into the eyes of the small man.

Was it a man?

If so, he was dressed in a red dress, cape, apron, and bonnet.

What kind of town is this?

But as you walked more on the scratchy land, belly settling, you saw closer the eyes and soft features, the constant whispers from the smaller person signaled a high-pitched voice, and what shape it had showed hints of feminine curves.

It was a woman. And no one you recognized on the boat. Perhaps it was a couple looking for their servant on board. Several women mentioned being bought as maids for cooking and cleaning.

There was already one woman here!

She caught you staring and glanced down a little. Both of you were the color of a cherry.

Shyly walking up to her, you gave her a rushed apology “I’m so sorry mistress! I was just so surprised to see another woman here already, forgive my rudeness!”

“You hear that, Master Castell! She called me Mistress!” she squeaked excitedly.

Master?

But looking at her closely again, you noticed the difference in her clothes with that of the man. He had fine yellow cloths adorning his body, a warm cloak, a clean face, and shining shoes. The girl (for indeed she seemed several years younger than you) had a simple red cotton dress and a slightly faded white bonnet.

The man looked down on you and felt a sudden urge to run back on the boat and cover your head in the pillow with embarrassment. He had eyes the color of the ocean, a brown hair and beard, high cheekbones and the kindest of faces.

“Mercy here is my servant. She is not used to such words, so she is very flattered. No need to fret yourself.” he explained softly.

He offered a gallant bow and you gave a slight curtsy in return.

“I am Samuel Castell, company recorder. Welcome to Jamestown, your new home” he welcomed. 

He almost seemed to beam looking at you. None of the strangers here gave you as much as a glance once you were on land with another behind you.

You replied with your name.

“Miss, you must forgive my rudeness. I noticed the book in your arms, and I was excited- there aren’t too many readers in the colony. Not too many are able to and even less have the leisure” he said, eyeing down in small looks as to not seem obscene nor uninterested.

You glanced down to see the way you had clenched the book to your chest.

“Why, yes! I had to bring a few books along. It was a long journey and a home is not a home without a few books for me.” You explained.

You handed the book to him and he took it, examining it with Mercy peeping over his arm. Despite her dark brown bangs nearly covering her round face, her eyes were the size of saucers looking at it too.

You felt suddenly afraid and warm. Every move you made and every word you spoke would make an impression but…why am I suddenly so afraid in the presence of this man? He’s perfectly courteous.

Being stunningly handsome doesn’t hurt either.

“Is that…. the Metamorphoses by Ovid!” he exclaimed while turning to the first page.

“It is, Master Castell” you answered, the name feeling fresh on your mouth, and a little too bold.

His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as it poured over the contents and flipped more through the brown pages.

“Master Castell’s home is full of books! He reads all day in what free time he has!” Mercy added.

She blushed a little and curtsied. “Oh! I’m sorry, you must forgive me this time! I…I get excited too easily and won’t hold my tongue and even sometimes...”

I shook your head and held up your hands soothingly. “It’s alright. You committed no crime, sweet Mercy.”

Samuel kept glancing between you and the pages. He then handed it to Mercy to look and then back to himself.

“I love the classics but, I never had the chance to read Ovid’s work before!” he said with the most glowing grin. He touched the lettering delicately, scanning the pages for hints of future adventures with nymphs, gods, kings, and heroes.

Samuel Castell, what a good man. Yet… I thought…why on Earth does his name sound familiar? I know I must have heard it, and recently. But…where?

“It’s very good, if not a little disturbing in some parts- It’s the only…” you trailed off with the loud announcement of the next name.

“Miss Jocelyn Woodbyrg!”

Mercy had pulled her master’s cape a little to alert him of something. He jerked up from the book and gently returned it to you with a small “pardon”.

“It’s her! My mistress!” Mercy cooed.

Oh.

You walked away from the crowd a little to make room for them hurrying forward. Jocelyn strutted over like an actress making a grandiose entrance. In her golden clothes, she seemed to outshine the grey air surrounding everyone. Her hat made her look tall and majestic and her dark cape swished as if she could choose to soar above any moment. Her skirt was adorned, and her hair was up in a bun, yet still loose to prove she had golden curls that framed her ivory, unblemished face and pristine features. Her golden dress was adorned almost indulgently and stayed tight enough to show her slim frame.

Samuel’s eyes gleamed and his smile reached its peak, never stopping after their introductions, bows, and even the sweetest kiss bestowed on her hand. The sickness hit your insides again.

They walked away arm in arm, Jocelyn’s chin high in the air. Her hand wrapped around his slowly clenching on like that of a Venus flytraps mouth closing around a fly. You almost felt the bag in your left arm drop to the ground had you not gripped it tightly.

Mercy stopped shortly by, giddy with excitement.

“Do see me sometime, Miss. It’s fun to be called Mistress! How kind you are! Oh! And! And my new mistress-I’ve never had a mistress! I’m so excited!” she cried almost in one breath.

“Mercy, you may get lost! But thank you!” you threw in, pointing to where they were walking.

She added “I swear! She’s the most beautiful woman here!” before jogging up to meet the stride of her master and his fiancée.

There were plenty of people left, but many had walked off to see the colony looming in the distance like a brown castle beyond.

But Mercy’s voice still rang in your ears.

“She’s the most beautiful woman here!”

You wandered up to the sea, lying to yourself I’m going to splash my face with water.

You crouched on the stones, the tiny waves barely touching your toes and looked down at your face. You got back up to study the rest of your body.

There were plenty of other men, it was almost completely men here. Your time will come soon. Besides, you fool, you just met him! You’re lucky to not marry a man you just met!

He’s the most wonderful man I ever met, though.

Tears were your first act on the new land, plopping silently to the sea. This time, they were seen by no one.

You’re nothing next to her. No wonder Samuel’s so happy to marry her.

(Edited, bc y’all jumped on) Taglist: @isitstraightvodka @itsametaphorgwil @itscale @coincidence-ithinknots-blog @rhapsodyrecs @stardust-killer-queen @grigorlee @queenlover05