Hey guys, sorry! I had to be in the hospital for a short bit and recover. I'm okay. But I took a break from writing for a while so I could catch up on everything else. The good news is I'm doing fine. Job is going well, and I am back to my hobbies. My laptop died (it was only, like, 7 years old, WTF?!) so I had to save for a new one (and it is awesome!)

The struggle I ran into was when I got to this story I had trouble finding a direction, but I knew I needed to at least finish this chapter. So, thank you so much for your reviews! It makes me very happy to know that people enjoy my work. I am still trying to figure the direction for the next chapter, but I am indeed still working this story! There is some small tidbits of historical daily life, but I try to keep it vague for the sake of timeline; like I dont want to give any specific years, just an idea of what life looked like back then-ish. Though some specifics were mentioned. When I speak about the bitterness between Scotland and England, look up their histories with each other, particularly some major battles and political movements from 1300 to about...uh...1750s-ish. Like Braveheart to Outlander Season 3(?).

Oh! And if you haven't seen Outlaw King on Netflix, watch it!

Cheers!

Ch. 11

Anne woke to an early morning knock at the door of her bedroom and was loath to answer it, but the moment she remembered that this was not her bed, or her time, she sat up straight away and tucked into the robe she was provided. The young maid from earlier tip-toed in quietly and moved to help her ready for the day, quietly speaking that breakfast would be up shortly and would be taken in the common room just as dinner had before. She would pack her things and have them delivered to the carriage for her journey. It was a lot of information that girl was whispering out and Anne tried to keep up on the some ought news of the weather and talk about dangers on the road.

And she tried not to think of the rather tense dinner the night before. Her father had mentioned riders being sent to her other uncles, with the hope that they will meet them on the road. Uncle Rhys had been optimistic that they'd find their way to them quickly, though her father only sneered into his wine.

Goodness! Anne wanted to snort to herself as the girl helped her navigate her bodice. Was it any wonder they didn't get along with an attitude like that! She and Mattie were certainly never like that, she thought. Even when he had been angry with her over something, her northern brother was always polite and kind to her. As far she knew anyway, he would never sneer and be insulting if she wasn't there. Or at least everything she knew about him suggested he would never do that. Mattie was a kind and gentle soul, mostly. Most of the time…Mostly. Yea, that's her story and she is sticking to it. At the very least, if he was going to tell her off, he said it to her face. Anne shakes her head to dispel images of previous hockey matches and other war time memories.

Being on the road was also a stifling affair, after all, one could only move so much in a carriage. On the ship, she could walk about…when she wasn't in confinement for sickness…or behavior. But at least the scenery changed more than the open seas. Rolling hills, meadows, farms, and little hamlets came into focus and faded into mists. And they rarely stopped, save for short instances to relieve themselves and rest the horses, or switch carriages. But the carriage was stocked with crackers and light wine and a blanket for Anne to keep warm because, you know, air conditioning was a thing of the future and despite the layers women were forced to endure, it was still possible to freeze in humid, frigid air. And Anne never really did well in cold weather…well, she never did well in hot weather either. France used to joke she was as delicate as a flower, not because of some lacking strength, no. But because, like a flower, which would break in frost or wilt in heat, she would find her energy and motivation wane in the extreme sides of nature. She would become melancholic under too much rain, but tire from too much sun. ("Tu es une créature printanière." He would say to her when she'd fallen ill again during the war and spent most of her recovery apologizing.)

It was terribly frustrating. Perhaps most especially because her lands experienced many of the different aspects of nature; deserts, bitter winters, spectacular storms, and practically everything in between. And it made her prone to illness. She hated it; made her feel weak.

Still, the travel was slow and the nights they stopped were at small lodges and local inns. Not so bad, but tiring. Her father never spoke much throughout with her, save for some commentary here and there on their location and its current history. What surprised her was how talkative her Uncle was. He seemed to take heart to the confession of her curiosity and so filled the silences with short stories about himself and his brothers. Her father admonished him for it, but Rhys shrugged him off. Perk of being the eldest, he smiled, was that the eldest rarely had to obey anyone, to which her father scoffed.

Still, Anne found herself hanging on every story; digesting certain details and dissecting others. And trying to imagine the impressive figures of her rather arcane family members in the myriad of settings and, at times, absurd plots. She was laughing most of the time. Truly, some of her kin (**cough** Uncle Reilly **cough**) found themselves in the most bizarre predicaments.

And it gave her the definite sense that her own particular brand of mischief and adventure wasn't so far from the family tree as she once thought. Why, at this point, they shouldn't have been surprised that she had always been…free-spirited. Perhaps it was the timing of it; of the centuries where behavior was strictly regimented to the point of hysteria. Or because she was born female and if history has proven anything it was that women often got the short end of the stick. Never allowed to be adventurous or wild; she had to be poised and demure at all times.

Fuck that! Anne had always been herself, in the best and worst times, and not always to her favor. But she preferred being honest with herself, in and out of public eye, at least as much as possible over pretending to be something she wasn't. Yet another one for her apparent list of flaws.

Either way, she was learning so much! Uncle Rhys had been patient with her questions, when he mentioned something, such as a point in history she wasn't entirely familiar with. Her father, however, seemed determined at times, to gloss over certain points; wars, certain monarchs, and the state the kingdoms were in. As if to dismiss that there were times he wasn't so proud of. Hardly anything to be ashamed of, really; she certainly had points in her short time she'd rather not have happened. And the world certainly wouldn't let her forget it; the bastards. Like their countries have never made a mistake.

Her Uncle had been about to tell her about driving the Vikings out when Arthur demanded they stop at a small town. He hopped out of the carriage quickly and Uncle Rhys quickly followed as if to catch him, but her father's stride didn't let up even as he entered the tavern. Her uncle scoffed before turning to give his hand for Anne to step down, which she begrudgingly admitted to herself was necessary to navigate around the dress she was wearing and not face-plant into the dirt. Damn fashion! She was escorted in and was seated next to her father who already had some ale before him. She decided to try and give the proverbial olive branch by apologizing. Maybe that'd put out some of the fire under his butt that seemed to seethe since the journey's beginning.

"I know enough about history to know that Vikings here was never pleasant. I'm sorry if that was upsetting, we can talk about something else." She tried as he glared sharply at her.

"Have you ever encountered Vikings?"

"As you know Vikings aren't really about anymore; though there have been a few revival attempts since then…"

"I meant the personifications; the Nordics."

"Yes. We get along well."

"Even that Danish moron…" Anne cringed at the tone. Relations between the UK and others was certainly better in her time than it seemed now…but what of her father's personal opinions. The nations, as she could remember, worked closely over the past several centuries, what with their monarchies and the like, treaties and wars, and so forth. But she guessed professional relations was as far as her father was willing to go for some. He certainly had no problem expressing his opinion of Francis, but the nations did get on well…mostly. Her father had certainly mellowed over the years, it seemed, since her entry into the world.

Even so, her relations with Denmark, especially since her independence, had always been amicable and strong; one of her longest running alliances. And Mathias was one of her best friends; part of the "Awesome Trio". He was knowledgeable, supportive, and always down for an adventure. Mathias was friendly, charming, and always made her laugh too. He'd been a great comfort in the beginnings of her nationhood, when she felt alone; patiently working with her and guiding her through trade. When she and the entirety of the British Empire weren't exactly on speaking terms, it was Mathias that told her to be patient and understanding; that her relations with her family would improve with time and to not lose faith.

"Mathias has been a valuable friend to me…" she finally said. The skin around her father's eyes seemed to tighten a bit before turning away to gaze about the tavern. By then her uncle returned with ale which Anne tried her best to drink without gagging from the burn.

"Vikings might not have been the best way to start that story…"

"You speak so freely suddenly, even though that history injured you as well…" Arthur interrupted.

"It is in the past, is it not? What harm is there to speak of it now?" her father only grunted in response to which Rhys gave an exasperated sigh.

"When do you think Uncle Reilly and Uncle Alistair will find us?" Anne finally piped in which seemed to be a welcome change of subject, if only a little.

"Ah, I do have some news. Turns out they'd ben already visiting one another when the message arrived. They had some preparations to make, but sent a runner with messages. We should encounter them on the road soon, if not the next large town."

"That's good news, isn't it?" Anne turned a smile to her father, "I'll be out of your hair soon enough." Anne continued her conversation with her uncle, not noticing the frown on her father's face. Her Uncle insisted on an early supper and exploration of the small town before retiring at the inn for the night.

Exploring the small town had been interesting. There were so many people walking about the mostly dirt paths and so many little shops. It reminded Anne of walking about her towns when they finally began to really grow beyond a small collection of buildings and scattered farms. There were bakeries, tailors, various smiths, and several taverns that tended to double as Inns. It was wonderfully nostalgic.

It was here that her father seemed to finally relax, taking her arm with ease and pointing out various things or buildings; this church or that courthouse. He explained how many small places like this tended to spring up throughout his lands, over the many, many years and how so few really stick around. But some, he mused, seem to last forever. Always changing or growing large enough to become bustling cities. Anne could get into that conversation for sure. She ended up explaining a bit about New York, trying not give any major history away, which wasn't easy. New York when it began, when it was known as New Amsterdam, had been a simple fort of fur trade that struggled to truly gain any real foothold. It didn't flourish until the 1700s when it had become a rather important port for the empire. And from it became her largest, most populated, and most diverse city.

But she spoke mostly of its place; for business and entrepreneurship, for culture and arts. She tried please him by stating, without giving names and such which is such a pain, that one of the oldest established universities of her nation was there and was named in honor of one of his monarchs. It had the desired effect and started him on a long conversation on the importance of education. Which, she smiled to herself, never changed. And it was certainly at least one thing they agreed on; a strong, well-rounded education and literacy. It was an uphill battle, as always.

But by the end of the evening, when they bid each other good night and went their separate ways, her father seemed in a much lighter mood. Anne would count it as a win.

Meanwhile in the present…

Alistair was tired. He didn't sleep well and couldn't get rid of the budding migraine that rattled his brain. His past self was meeting her soon, he knew it. Eire too; with all his moaning about visions. They would only get worse from here and he could only scowl as he watched his youngest brother gaze out the window with some kind of goofy grin on his stupid face. The Scotsman swore he could see remnants of his past brother every time a new memory surfaced; hints of the empire days. And it made him feel a wee bit chilled…deep inside. And bitter. They were not known for their kindness towards one another. Maybe not outright attack on sight, but they were more antagonistic then. Well, more so than usual. Rhys would be there to mitigate, he supposed, but even that could only do so much when they were out for a fight. They knew exactly how to goad each other; knew what to say to bring about fists. Not that he ever minded it; sometimes outright fighting could ease tensions better, speak better, then words ever could. But no; they were 'civilized' now. Alistair wanted to snort aloud, but that would draw attention he didn't want right now. Civilized, indeed. Still, he accepted the pain killers his elder brother passed with as much graciousness as his tired self could muster.

Honestly, he'd be happier about meeting the lass soon…

They'd always got one well; she'd been this plucky little thing and definitely made of strong stock. And she fought; fought hard and ruthlessly for what she believed in. He could respect that. Even if she could be a bit of a nut…Heh, oh to be young, as they say. He enjoyed his times with her and knew his past self, bitter or otherwise, would get a kick out her antics; even if it meant dealing with Arthur.

And he would be happier, but his instincts kept niggling his gut. Something was worrying him, but no epiphany came. It made the atmosphere seem stifling; heavy. And he hated that feeling because often times it meant that whatever terrible thing was coming one would be too late to stop it from happening. It was times you had no choice but to let the cards fall where they may, but this…this was his niece. She was at the center of this whole debacle. And the last thing any of them wanted was to lose another family member. He considered bringing it up…but…his idiot brother with his idiotic happy smile…damn it all. So he shut his eyes from the moving scenery and hoped the painkillers kicked in soon.

Thanks for your patience, guys! Happy Autumn!