Woo! Next chapter! To the reviewer, Liv, thank you for your review! The UK bros names; I seriously thought those were decided headcannon names by the fandom, but maybe I just have been surfing Pinterest too much...My version of the characters are indeed inspired by Apple's work; I just love her series! But I think my interpretations are a little different, seeing as my America is female, there is less psychological analysis, and so far much less wonderfully heart-wrenching drama, etc. I also my chapters are waay shorter! So my writing and analysis are no where near as in-depth as hers. Even so, I thank you for the compliment!
As for Angel Arthur, I honestly hadn't planned on it. When I read your review I've been trying to consider if I could implement it somehow; I just don't know quite how-Angel Arthur seems like it'd clash so much with Pirate Arthur...But I will definitely keep it in mind!
We also got to meet Wales, who in my interpretation, especially for this story, seems to have quite a bit of knowledge of what is going down! So, now that they're on land, I feel like this will move much more quickly! ...Hopefully! I still have a bunch of other projects to tackle! (Client meetings, architect meetings, planning, military work, I'm considering starting a blog to catalog some of my chaos...I need to slow down...)
Anyways, usual disclaimers, historical inaccuracies...probably, and I don't own any of characters, franchises, etc.
Enjoy!
Ch. 9
The port was crowded and full of smells she'd rather not remember. It was rather mind boggling how people survived at all around such conditions. After all, there was much prevention in hygiene, Anne thought as she passed a man throwing waste into the water carelessly and shuddered. It wasn't entirely the people's fault, she knew. Back then, health professionals couldn't decide if bathing was good for you, and for many, a simple rub down with a soaked linen everyday was considered enough. Sewage was even worse, though. And the scent of such waste, or spoiled food, so often simply tossed into alleyways or left in the open…it was a smell the memory never forgets. Try as some might to cover it with perfumes and herbs, it just added to the mingling smells that could make anyone faint. There were so many things wrong with hygiene back then…And couple that with population density…Anne was glad she hadn't eaten much. It was difficult not to gag.
There so many people bustling in all directions, destinations in mind, amidst the shouts that echoed from all directions, but one thing remained exactly as she remembered it to be; the pale, overcast sky that the island nation was famed for. Anne kept her pace a step behind her father, trying to take in as much as she can, but not enough to lose him. He'd occasionally glanced behind him to ensure she was still there. But after a swift pace, dodging people, carts, and carriages they'd entered a small tavern. And she could only be a little thankful that the smell of burning tobacco drowned out the scent of…population; even if the smell of tobacco always made her eyes burn.
Her father led her to a table in the far back corner, somewhat private, pulling out a chair for her, and signaling for the waitress to bring food, which the rather young girl did, with ale and plates of bread, fruit, and cheese. Slightly fancy for a tavern, for a time when fruits could be very expensive. And despite her stomach churning from the scents, the plate did look appetizing and taking her cue from Arthur who had set upon his ale first, Anne nibbled quietly on the grapes. A few moments passed when she realized he was watching her.
"Feeling better?" At her questioning glance, he nodded towards her plate which Anne had then realized she'd eaten much faster than she realized.
"I—yes, thank you." She was sure her cheeks were pink.
"Help yourself." He pushed his plate towards her and she, against her better judgement because she could never tell what he was thinking, set herself to devour his plate as well. She was just so suddenly famished, and maybe it had to do with no longer sitting within a swaying ship, but her stomach was demanding. "Rhys should be here soon." Arthur spoke again.
Anne nodded absently, reaching for her ale. It tasted awful. She couldn't place it, but it tasted like it had maybe fermented incorrectly and they'd added some manner of spirit to it because it was most definitely strong. She coughed harshly into her linen napkin after heavily placing her cup onto the table. God, did all alcohol back then suck? Anne thought. How unfortunate because the historical journals always seemed to praise ales and beers of the past. The young waitress from earlier had brought her a glass of what looked like milk. Anne heard sniggers in the distance and ducked her head after looking around. They must've thought her some kind of innocent or something. In the same moment, she couldn't really blame them. She had such a young face and she and wearing a lovely, expensive-looking dress that just screamed young, sheltered, maiden. She didn't look like she belonged in a tavern. It didn't stop her from cursing at them for laughing at her. She turned to Arthur who looked like he was trying to force a neutral expression as much as possible.
"Laughing at me too?" Anne pouted.
"Certainly not." He cleared his throat, but smiled nonetheless when she sniffed and glanced away, cheeks turning darker. But she caught movement drawing closer and focused her gaze. Rhys Kirkland strode smartly towards them, hesitating only slightly when he made eye contact with her, and stood by their table, shooting a questioning expression towards his younger brother.
"Brother, good to see you again." Arthur glanced towards her, "Anne, if I may for propriety's sake, introduce my elder brother, Rhys Kirkland." And true to form, her uncle followed the rules of etiquette, giving a slight bow to take her hand and give the lightest of pecks.
"A pleasure, Miss…?"
"My name is Anne. I'm..uh…" she glanced at her father who seemed to be awaiting dramatic effect.
"Indeed." Arthur began smugly, "She is Anne Kirkland; your niece." Her uncle started and scrutinized the girl before him. Way to drop a bomb, Dad. Anne wanted to face-palm, but sat straighter for her uncle, whose piercing eyes could always make her nervous. She couldn't stop the fidget in her hands. After a beat, her uncle sat in the only other chair and stared hard at her father.
"Explain," was all he said.
"I'm afraid your dear niece is the victim of a magical accident," Arthur took another sip of his ale and suddenly all traces of his earlier amusement was gone, "she has been thrust back in time. I was fortunate enough to find her. Now I must make preparations to send her home." Arthur suddenly switched to another language causing Anne to blink as her uncle responded in the same language without missing a beat. Arthur gave small glances her way to see if she understood what was being said, but realized she was lost to it. That seemed to have a mixed reaction from him as far as Anne could tell. She sighed quietly and picked at the small leftover bread from the plate her father shared with her.
For his part, Arthur was a little grateful that he could speak privately with his elder brother because Rhys certainly had many questions. Most of it was about Anne being his daughter.
"Albion, are you certain she is of our family and not some changeling that just looks like her?"
"Yes, I checked several mediums. I've confirmed it all. She is also knowledgeable of us. She is my daughter…from the future."
"Through time magic…it is a miracle she is in one piece. How could she cast such a spell?"
"She claims it was an accident, not of her doing; rather it was…a matter of being in the wrong place, at the wrong time."
"Interesting…and dangerous." Rhys glanced at Anne who was watching the other patrons curiously.
"Why would you assume she was a changeling? The magic around her has dissipated. And you should, at the very least, sense some manner of connection with her. But you're suggesting she is fae." Rhys gave Arthur a strange look.
"You mean you have no recollection…?"
"Well, I had fae on my ship, but they were all bound to me. No doubt that interfered with my ability to sense her by myself, what with my magic being pulled in different directions. But now, especially on my lands, and the fae dispersed, I can sense her fully now. Can you not?"
"My magic is regrettably low, brother. I'm afraid right now, I cannot sense much from her other than she is displaced. But that wasn't exactly what I was talking about—"
"What on earth have you been casting to deplete your magic? I won't be able to send her back if you are not at full strength."
"With the two of us, no, but with a full circle we will have the strength. As well as better chances at not tearing her apart. I can navigate well enough, but you know that both Alba and Eire, especially together, can keep her well protected from chaotic forces."
"Do you mean to suggest that I cannot keep her safe?" Arthur bristled and Rhys held up a placating hand.
"I meant nothing of the sort. Though, you must admit that sharing your magic with the fae on your ship has weakened your reserves as well. However, I was referring to the casting nature of the spell. You will need to be the anchor for her. Your future self should be working to cast to bring her home. You and your future self are what will tether her so she is not lost to time." Arthur grudgingly nodded, concerned, "It will be a considerable strain that requires your focus and will."
"I am glad it you who has met me here. Your knowledge is invaluable. But do you really think those two idiots will lend aid?" Rhys pursed his lips at the insult to his other two siblings.
"For the sake of family they will," the Welshman nodded resolutely, "If not for us, they will for her sake." Arthur was not as confident as his eldest brother in his other two siblings. They would certainly be interested in her, but would that concern move them to work alongside him? His brothers had strong magic, valuable towards this cause, but they were brutish or devious at times especially towards him. They were currently at odds with each other. He could only hope they would be mature enough to set aside difference, even if only temporarily, to aid their niece.
Anne had tuned out the conversation between the two men, noting that it was obviously a private matter, and focused on her surroundings. She supposed she could've tried to eavesdrop, but she knew so little of the Welsh language that it'd have been all for naught. The tavern was busy and full of a wide variety of patrons, with varying degrees of inebriation. She supposed it was why this place was chosen as a meeting point. It was still respectable enough to be seen at, for a tavern, but it also allowed for hushed conversation without it being conspicuous or strange. The noise would make eavesdropping very difficult to do anyhow, what with all the chatter or the random, short jingles some patrons would occasionally sing out before becoming distracted by other things. Most seemed to be of the working class of various occupations; sailors, merchants, and other sorts with hardy, well-worn clothing and dirt on their hands. You could tell they lived trying lives.
But still, they seemed mostly content to sit and mingle and laugh loudly. It was a scene she was familiar with; even in her present time. Many of the restaurants and bars in her country were busy, loud places with patrons enjoying themselves or celebrating occasions. It was practically a staple of American culture; loudness. They were a social people, in a strange way. Open whilst still maintaining their privacy. Contradictory in a way, like so many of American customs, it was no wonder travelers had a hard time navigating it. Still, she wouldn't trade it for anything and thus found a bit of comfort in the noise. Arthur brought her attention back with a light tap on her arm.
"We will be heading to local lodging and begin preparations. I have to secure my ship for my absence, so you will be traveling with your uncle. I will meet you later this evening, hopefully with some papers to ensure we encounter no trouble further into the country. You will also need clothing more suited to traveling. Your uncle can assist you."
"I don't have money, father; nor anything really suitable for trade."
"Needn't worry. We have more than enough to purchase what you require. Now then, as we are finished here, I will be on my way and see you tonight." And without any real ceremony, her father up and left her alone. Alone with her uncle who knows practically nothing about her and was currently watching her closely.
"I—thank you…Uncle…for helping me." Rhys only nodded.
"Your father mentioned you were ill mannered, but you seem cultivated enough." Ah, so, her father was gossiping behind her back. What an ass.
"I am perfectly respectful to those who show the same courtesy in return. I assure you, whatever he claims I did towards him, he had coming." Anne said primly, but almost wilted at the sharp smile that appeared on her uncle's face. Almost. Her uncle could be intimidating, but he was not a violent person. At least, not that she remembered. But then, her father was nothing like she remembered. If Anne was nervous around her rather genteel uncle before, now it was starting to be a little terrifying. What if he was also vastly different?
"Shall we then, niece?" Her uncle stood, holding a hand to her. Anne had been feeling like she was at a distinct disadvantage since she'd fallen into the Atlantic. And truly, this proved it. She realized that she did not truly know her family as well as she'd thought. But it sparked curiosity as well. Her father and her uncles carried themselves to a particular standard, to certain etiquettes and mannerisms, keeping their personal stories vague or veiled in some manner. What had they been hiding about themselves?
Who were they really?
She wanted to get home, to her time, but she decided that she also wanted to know. To know more, to know everything about her strange family. And she felt like it was long overdue. So, with a small and rather cheeky smile, she accepted her uncle's hand to continue her journey.
And in the present, while his siblings piled, quibbling, into the car to continue the long drive, the Welsh personification stifled a small laugh.
