The next few days went by in a blur, and as much as I wanted it not to be true, I was acting like a lovesick puppy. This boy, this man whom I had seen once, for not even a full minute had manage to weasel his way into my mind. Wrapping around my thoughts like an invasive weed, blocking out any logical sense and replacing it will a fools hope.
I was a perfect idiot. A cliché. The very people I had deemed as pathetic in school were suddenly me. A hypocrite if there ever was one.
Claire had noticed my doe-eyed expressions and dreamy demeanor; anytime she so much as looked in my direction her face was the picture of amusement and laughter. I knew she meant it to be harmless but it struck a chord within me, and at once I was determined to squash these pathetic girly feelings from my mind. I was in 18th century Scotland, and there was no way in hell I was going to have any weaknesses. I had to be strong to survive in this culture, I had no time for romance, I had to figure out my purpose in this strange land first, which I was no closer to discovering since I landed here more than a month and a half ago.
Life at Castle Leoch had smoothed out however. The castle and its tenants had begun to accept my presence as inevitable and no longer regarded me with accusatory glances and glares. Mrs. Fitz-Gibbons was as always a mother to me, doting and clucking around like a mother hen to the whole castle. Claire remained my closest confidant, my sister in this mysterious world. I was always by her side, helping her harvest herbs or make poultices, becoming quite experienced in the healing arts along the way. The only time I was not by her side was when one of us took a trip to the bathroom (which made one miss the luxuries of plumbing acutely) or Jamie was about. When he came near I always made sure to give him a welcoming smile and then suddenly realize I had somewhere else to be, assuring Claire that I could handle the rest of the day's work alone.
Jamie and Claire were, well, they were Jamie and Claire. Their story was beautiful and blooming. Still timid and shy, they would sit together in Claire's garden talking, or visit Jamie's horses in the stables, going over their names and breeds, feeding them bits of carrots along the way.
It was on one of these days, when I had snuck away from Claire and Jamie that I came upon a most curious room. I was wandering the lower levels, a floor above Claire and I's basement, but below the kitchens and bedrooms. It was tucked behind the corner of a stone wall, looking like its addition was a second thought to the builder and not preplanned with the rest of the rooms. The door was cracked open, a heavy thing of light wood, with chips and cracks spider webbing the surface. It was dry against my fingertips as I pushed it open, lightly creaking but not enough to carry beyond my own ears. The room was lit by an arched window directly across from me, sunlight filtered in through the dusty glass in streaks; lighting up the swirling dust motes within. The furniture looked just as ignored as the window, left and forgotten to collect the floating particles from the air. Against one of the walls was an intimidating looking cabinet, reminding me of the wardrobe to Narnia; made of a deep, dark colored wood. I glanced behind myself to insure discretion and then quickly and quietly slipped into the room, easing the door to a cracked position before crossing to analyze the cabinet. My leather slippers left light footprints in the thick coat of dust, revealing the stone floor beneath; I would have to make sure to smear them away before I left, to hide my presence. Upon reaching the cabinet, I worked my way from the bottom up, pulling open each drawer as quietly as I could, only to be rewarded with clouds of choking dust and bits of yellowed parchment, apparently used as mouse nests since being discarded by its previous owner.
Upon reaching the two highest doors however, a chill spread across my arms and up to my neck, something was waiting for me beyond these thin panels of wood, I could feel it. It was a curious feeling, like a magnet was pulling both my body and my brain to whatever was in the cabinet, beckoning me forward. In preparation I took a step back and reached out my hands to grasp the metal handles, strangely warmed by the sun that illuminated them. I pulled and the doors stuck, sealed with age and disuse; again I pulled, harder this time and was rewarded with a pop as they yanked open. I stepped back in preparation for something flying out, and also because the sudden release threw off my balance.
Nothing flew out however. For there was nothing in the cabinet, except, as I saw when I drew near, a rock in the back left corner. I neared even further and was pleasantly surprised to see that the rock was no rock at all, it was a dust encrusted crystal. Irregular and about the size of a walnut, the crystal sat amongst a sea of gray. I reached out and thought twice before touching the crystal with my bare hands, instead I reached and with the edge of my apron I picked up the stone, polishing it off in the process. Cradling it within the canvas of my outfit, I was amazed to see that the crystal was a deep purple. Shot through with veins of white and lavender. It reminded me of amethyst, but something about it was different, it was a stone I had never seen before.
Turning the stone over in my apron, I could see little scratches covering it's surface, like little hands had clawed at it, maybe a mouse had once used it as a plaything. The crystal seemed harmless enough, just a forgotten trinket left by a previous owner. Before I could chicken out, I transferred the crystal to my left hand, still covered in canvas, and reached out to touch the glistening surface with my right. A closer look was all I wanted.
But that closer look never happened. The second my skin made contact with the mineral a dark curtain was dropped over my eyes. My senses shut down, there was no sound, smell, light, or air, just darkness. The sensation was like nothing I had ever felt before, I imagine it is what a black hole feels like in space; terrifying emptiness. As a choking panic began to rise up in my chest, the curtain was whisked away and I was looking out from stranger eyes, seeing unfamiliar sights and listening to unfamiliar sounds.
"Noises all around, surrounding my tent. Clamoring for my attention, approval, and acknowledgment. Accents carried on the wind and lost in a hum of other tongues. My face remains impassive, cold even. Waiting. Waiting for their silence. My handmaiden calmly tucks the last strand of my hair into its elaborate design. Half up, half down; my decision. I look in the silver and see a wild woman looking back. Brown hair, almost blond falls around my shoulders, little braids littered throughout. A wild, yet tamed woman, tamed by herself and no man. The top is in an intricate bun, a lovely opposite to the free locks below. I hold out my hand, the servant places two small jars within. In one is rouge, made from the local berries in a shade of my choosing. Carefully applied to the lips, they become fuller. To the cheeks, a windswept look ensues. Next comes the jar filled with 'khol'. A mixture made from burnt cork, khol hasn't yet been introduced to Scotland. Carefully applied to the eye as a liner, it accentuates and enhances. Finally the finishing touch.
I hold out my hand again, this time what is laid there is hefty, cold and hard.
A crown."