Three things:
One. Thank you very much for the reviews and Follows! While I appreciate the reviews greatly, knowing people have this story as a Fav or Alert is equally as great!
Two. So for the longest time I saw Young Macintosh in the movies as a child. Gaston complex, slap-fighting, temper tantrum, etc. But there are two instances that I noticed (esp. by the 4th time I saw the movie recently lol) that counter that: A. He punches Dingwall after Wee Dingwall attacks his father and B. at the end during the fight of Mor'Du, he helps his father up.
Three. Lyrics can mean many things, so as cheesy as it is, I decided to borrow "Into The Sky" for this chapter. I do not own it. Also, although I am not too sure on the historical content of a guitar being in Scotland that early on, we'll just say it was for the sake of the chapter lol.
The only thing worse than being cooped up in the castle for about a week was being on lockdown in her bed for three straight days. At least before she could have explored different rooms, different windows and sceneries; however, being stuck in bed offered only the four plain walls and a window that was often covered because of the chilling air. There was only so much sewing the girl could do, her fingers itching for the handle of something far larger than a needle.
It was that night that Evey made a decision, hoping only that it wouldn't prove to be a foolish one again. While Marian slept soundly at the corner of the bed, she slowly slid out of bed and looked around. The floor was chilled but it wasn't enough to make her shiver. The girl slid out of the room, pausing to grab a guitar in a room she knew they kept instruments in. Where to go for privacy though? Not everyone was asleep, she knew; worries and doubts could easily plague the mind into insomnia.
It suddenly occurred to her how stuffy it was in the hallway she stood in. There was one place she could think of, a door she passed by while being rushed out to the tournament those days ago. A tower, one of many she noticed, at the north side of the castle.
Though it was a bit of a walk, Evey started her way and hoped it would be worth it. Her side ached a bit but it had healed enough to start scabbing over in the past couple of days. And while that was nice, her mind, however, was more active than usual whilst being stuck with nothing to do. She kept replaying Vailean over in her mind, his musical talent that he hid.
It triggered memories of an old friend, her first crush really, back in England. *George Smeaton was the name of a rather talented man, one who wrote music and poems and through the great abilities of his hands on instruments; he had worked his way up to becoming the Elward's musician. He was a man just a year older than Evey and had for reasons known later played the most for her.
It was about a year after he was first hired that Evey started to feel her heart race around him and certain butterflies in her stomach. George Smeaton was her first crush. And best yet, he had returned her quiet affections by means of poems and songs, as well as longing gazes swapped frequently. They spoke through letters and whispers, always careful not to let it come to surface.
When she had been told of who and when she was to marry, she met with George one final time. Though Evey understood her duty and the deal she had made with her parents, she was still choked up when she spoke to him. A final farewell, a thank you, and a hope that he would excel in life; anything else, like the wish of the two of them having lived in another life as a couple, would have been inappropriate to say. Not only that, but it would have been torture to the both of them to confess such wild dreams and desperate wishes.
The day before she boarded the ship to Scotland, he stopped her by chance and slid a roll of parchment into her hand, silent with just a small smile. And then he departed, not to be seen the next day at her leave. When Evey opened it, she found it was a sheet of music, a song that was quite famous for lovers held apart.
And Vailean's play of the lyre reminded her of him for the first time in…well, weeks, ages. It seemed like she was destined to be with a man of musical talents one way or another. So when she reached the tower she was looking for, Evey looked around once before walking up the long, twisting staircase. It grew colder every step she took, enough to make her wish she had brought a cloak.
Yet as soon as she got to the top, all thoughts of the weather were replaced with the scenery. The room was bare but there was one large window from the floor to the ceiling that was open. No wonder it was so cold! Yet there before her stood several hills, all covered in frost, and the homes of those nearby. Trees, as bare and naked as they were, still looked hauntingly appealing on the edge of the castle walls. And the best part of all was the moon far above, full and shining brightly. It looked magical, all of it.
Slow step by slow step, she placed the guitar down and used the edge of the wall to lower herself down, grimacing when she felt the abnormal angle crush her healing cuts. A sharp exhale left her when her butt finally hit the cold floor. Carefully, she slid to where one leg dangled off the ledge and the other curled to her other leg, her foot on her thigh.
Evey pulled the rolled up parchment from her sleeve before taking the guitar comfortably on her lap. Placing it on the bottom of the guitar between it and her knee, she strummed a few times. Within minutes, she found the notes and started to play, rusty as she was.
"This love, it is a distant star guiding us home wherever we are. This love, it is a burning song, shining light on the things that we've done. I try to speak to you every day but each word we spoke, the wind blew away." Her green gaze remained locked on the moon, her attention so deep in the song that she failed to hear the door open.
"Could these walls come crumbling down? I want to feel my feet on the ground," her one dangling foot twisted in a circle, "and leave behind this prison we share. Step into the open air." Her head turned just enough to glance at the sheet once more, making sure she hit the right notes. On the travel to Scotland, she had imagined it in her head, played it silently since it would have raised suspicion if she played it loud like this. Even now, it was actually quite dangerous for what if someone heard her? They would assume she had a lover, someone other than Vailean.
"How did we let it come to this? What we just tasted we somehow still miss. How will it feel when this day is done and can we keep what we've only begun?" The person who had stepped in paused in their steps and crossed their arms. "And now these walls come crumbling down and I can feel my feet on the ground. Can we carry this love that we share into the open air?" Evey's strumming slowed down, her singing quieting as well. "Into the open air…into the open air. This love, it is a burning song…"
The woman's hands fell rather limp as she leaned against the edge of the window, staring up at the moon. Before she could sigh, however, a voice spoke behind her. "Since when could ya play more than swords?" Amusement, teasing.
Evey turned sharply and gasped, quickly pulling herself off the ground. She regretted it instantly though, her hip screaming with protest. "M-My lord." The guitar was set aside on the wall as she gave a curtsey, this time seeing a bit of white in her vision from the pain at her side. "I-I was just, I don't usually play, that is to say that I barely know how to…to…good evening, Magnus." She finished her horrible stutter with a meek greeting.
The moon outside didn't really leave any room for shadows to lurk. Still, there was just a hint of them lying over Macintosh's face. He didn't have the blue woad on, his eyes tired and his skin worn out. If anything, he looked haggard. His arms crossed over his chest –when did he ever take off that odd kilt and toga? – and he spoke with a humoring smile, his voice matching the exhaustion that he wore. "What are ya doin' out of bed, lass?" His gaze drooped to her side where her hand had acted without her accord and latched over the cuts. It almost looked like he was about to fall asleep. It was clear what he was thinking.
"I couldn't sleep." She admitted, busying her hands with folding up the parchment. "What are you doing out of bed, Magnus?"
"I'd be lyin' if I said it wasn't for the same reason you're out of bed. I see you found my favorite hiding spot. The view is wonderful, isn't it?" He walked over suddenly and reached out to take the half-rolled paper. "Did ya write this?" When she handed it over, he scanned it quickly.
Evey felt what little blood was left in her face from his introduction drain away. She could lie to him, but it still did not change the contents of the song. And what if it were to be brought up later before her servants? They would know…and they would write back to England. "No, m'lord, a…" she shifted on her feet, "an old friend did. As a parting gift."
For some reason or another, Macintosh's gaze seemed a bit less cloudy and his body a bit sharper. "Hm…it looks to be a wee bit more intimate than a friend." When he glanced up at her, seeing how pale she was, he added to ensure that he wouldn't sound accusing, "Did ya leave your heart back in England, Evey?"
The girl swallowed and looked away. Though his tone was sympathetic if anything, the words he spoke were perhaps more powerful than a swift punch to the gut. Her hands clasped together, as they often did when she grew nervous, but there was no jewelry to toy with, only her fingers to twist around. "And I would be lying to you if I said no. The truth is, Lord Macintosh, I left…part of my heart there. My first…crush was a musician of sorts. B-but nothing happened than the most innocent of gestures!" It was either come clean now or have rumors swirl later. "And I intend to love your son, you, this clan with or without all of my heart returned to me." Evey held her breath for a moment before the need of sleep hit her hard, leaving her only the bluntest of words and pleas. "Magnus, please do not think ill of me or that I am an adulterer. I have not talked to George since I left; we both understood our places. I hope you are not upset…please say something."
Magnus stared for a moment before he ran his hand through his hair – well, as much as his tangles would let him. He suddenly felt more awake than before. "Lass, there be no reason to fret. If you say this…George was a passin' fancy, then I trust you. It will remain between us." Finishing rolling up the sheet, he placed it back in her hand and stepped towards the ledge to look at the moon. Evey had the look of an honest person and though he might not tell her (for it was his own sort of ace in the hole, so to speak) her eyes gave away her emotions most of the time.
"Thank you."She spoke with relief while sliding the parchment into her sleeve. There was silence between them but a comfortable kind. She crossed her arms as she stepped forward as well, thinking over what just happened. There was certainly a bit of weight off her shoulders to know he wouldn't see her as some…loose woman. A virtuous one instead for his son. After all, she was certain he had his fair share of crushes when he was young.
The thought struck her odd suddenly. For this man who remained a widow for a decade, who had courted and cherished his wife, to have a crush even while younger…it seemed almost impossible. "Magnus? May I…ask something personal?"
"Hm?" He was still searching the sky and the horizon of the land as he nodded. "Go ahead, lassy."
The fact that there was silence between his permission and her words warned him it was something important. Evey placed her hand on the other frame that shaped the open ledge. "What…happened to…to the late Lady Macintosh?"
From the side angle she was at, Evey could see how Lord Macintosh's head shifted down, his eyes suddenly caught in the nothingness of the ground below him. She held her breath for a moment, waiting his reaction. At last his shoulders fell forward, a sign that he couldn't or wouldn't hold himself up further any longer. Almost a sign of defeat, she thought. "Women are stronger than most men, not in a way of fightin' on a battle field but in a way of giving birth. Hours, even days of bein' in labor…and they live from all that pain and blood. Most do. My Peigi, my pearl…she was strong. But she had…difficulties durin' Vailean's birth. The second time, she was not so lucky."
The English woman had a hand to her mouth, horror struck for many reasons. So the late Lady Macintosh had died from childbirth. That alarmed Evey for while such childbed fevers were common in the commoners, to hear that a high status woman, one with good help, had passed…she swallowed. Suddenly her own mortality came to mind. "And…of the child, m'lord?"
"Stillborn. A daughter." He seemed even more tight lipped about her than his wife. Suddenly she saw the Lord and late Lady sitting in bed together or near a fire, his hand on her belly, whispering names for the next child. Excitement and hope…only to be crushed. For Macintosh, the man with such a large ego to fill two rooms and a hallway, to be struck to the core with two deaths of his wife and daughter, it was a harsh picture. How in the world did he ever pull himself together? How did he pick himself back up for his son, his clan?
The questions and the images were far too much for Evey. A lump in her throat and her vision blurred with tears, she did something that quite possibly would cross a line had they been in public. She overstepped that line to create a new level, a new boundary for the two.
She stepped forward and hugged him.
There was no word or phrase she could utter to match his pain. Only touch could do so and even then just barely. But still, her arms were wrapped around his waist and her head on his bare chest, inhaling slowly as to not let the tears multiply.
Macintosh jumped a bit from the unexpected display of affection. He looked down with uncertainty at first – how long had it been since he had received a hug from a female? Yes there was the occasional slap between the shoulder blades, a man's way of greeting old friends, but of a woman's touch? Slowly he wrapped his arms around her as well; her body heat a startling contrast to the cold wind.
She tilted her head back and met his gaze, almost smiling at how his beard brushed against her head. Another moment passed, one that felt longer than before with their gazes locked, until Evey's shiver broke the moment. Just like that, they were back to their former selves.
"If you get a cold, you'll have to stay in bed for the duration of that as well." Macintosh gave a slight warning, stepping back and pulling her gently from the window ledge.
"I'd only end up getting up at some ungodly hour to walk around like now." Evey brushed her hair back with a small grin, hugging herself. "Will you escort me back to my room, my lord?"
Magnus gave a smirk as he offered his arm, bending his knees to grab the guitar against the wall. "If I didn't, I don't think you'd go back to your room, lass."
It was another couple days before Evey could walk at a rate faster than a snail without pain. When she was able to dress in a deep blue gown with silver edging, she went through the castle looking for Vailean with the hope that they could practice archery together. Or at least have her be his one and only audience as he shot the arrows; any sports were a risk, but to have the man to herself for once instead of with a gaggle of girls spying it was worth the risk.
Alas, when she asked a personally-assigned servant to Vailean where his master was, the man muttered something about the young lord being down at the village. The village wasn't too far off, walking distance really. She informed her servant Jane who instantly insisted on joining and adding a guard – just in case. "These people don't know you, m'lady. Best to be too safe than not at all."
"And arriving with a guard shows I lack trust in them. For them to learn to love and trust me, Jane, I must do the same to them first. It will be you and I traveling, that is all. Don't fight me Jane I'm putting my foot down. I'll carry a small dagger under my cloak if that makes you feel better." To dare say anything against that was to speak badly of her ever-refining skills with a weapon, so Jane nodded demurely.
By the hour the two ladies had entered the busy streets, all the body heat making the chilly air bearable. She kept a sharp eye out for Vailean, keeping a smile on her face as much as she could. Surely she stuck out as the daughter of an English Duchess? For the most part, most of the people gave a small grin or a nod to her. A few just stared, studied her. And one or two quickly looked away though she wasn't sure why.
She turned a corner of a building and spotted Vailean – how could she miss him with a crowd surrounding him? Evey smiled a bit, her heart fluttering to see his grin, his over-confident pose. There were a few young men around him, probably his friends since they were relatively secluded, and…one lone female at his side. How odd. Evey paused in her steps to watch the scene, holding a hand up to keep Jane from speaking.
"Annis, don't be shy! I've had plenty of lasses admire them…go on, touch!" Vailean encouraged the brown haired, mousy nosed girl as he flexed his arm. The three males around them mimicked his words, chanting her name until she gave his arm a squeeze. Her face was a bright pink and she quickly let go, looking as though she were to faint from a tight corset.
Evey stepped back and rested her side against the wall, her legs starting to go weak. Vailean, oblivious to his extra two audience members, gave a chuckle and tossed his hair back before offering his arm again, flexing and all. "Grab hold and don't let go." He used his other hand to place under her chin and nudged her blue gaze back up at him. If one wasn't looking carefully, they would have missed how a spark flickered between the two. How both looked almost stunned before they looked…content with their lids lowered with a sort of want. But Evey was watching and she did not miss this.
Annis gathered her courage and stepped closer, her head just below Vailean's shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his rather muscular arm and gave a muffled yelp with a grin when he lifted her above the ground. The nervousness went away though and once she started to giggle, the boys around her cheered and laughed.
Evey saw no more for she had pushed herself to the other side of the building, away from the scene. Her legs were barely keeping her up, her smile twisted into a horrified frown, her brows knitted together. It was only when Jane touched her shoulder did her green gaze shift up though in her mind she kept replaying what she had witnessed. "I think a letter to your mother the Duchess is overdue, Lady Elward." Jane spoke so quietly that it was difficult to tell if it was of pity or sympathy.
Okay, so I know I said I'd have the dinner in here as well…but I figured the unexpected event in the tower took enough pages already lol. Good news is, the next chapter is already half typed up!
Preview: A dinner to show the public the soon-to-be-Lady-Macintosh turns into frustration when Vailean opens his mouth – the question is, does Evey open hers to reveal the girl he spoke to? Then a bit of swordplay and who knows what else…
*Soooo if y'all caught the cookie: George Smeaton. I combined George Boleyn and Mark Smeaton, the brother and the musician of whom were charged (falsely) with having incest/affair with Queen Boleyn, resulting in her being the first one of King Henry VIII's to losing her head – literally. A foreshadow for the story!