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marril96 · 4 years

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The Distance Between Us

Chapter 32: Mother Knows Best

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Rowena and her mother have some well-earned bonding time.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

Rowena had expected a fiasco since she'd first stepped foot onto the school grounds this morning.

She'd expected an even bigger one when her friends — when Fergus and, eventually, you — confronted Lucifer.

Nothing, though, could have prepared her for the thunderstorm that was her mother.

The outbursts weren't strange to Rowena. She remembered the epic fights her mother and her poor excuse of a father — if that wanker could even be called that — got into quite vividly. She remembered the absolute scorn on her mother's face back in December when details of her and Lucifer's relationship came to light and the reality of what, exactly, had caused her bruises came crashing down. Remembered the madness in her mother's voice, the pure, unadulterated rage, as she spewed threats of police and media and lawsuits at the cowering principal Shurley.

Hell hath no fury like Fiona MacLeod scorned.

This time, she'd gone off the rails.

While Rowena was mad at Ms. Hanscum for taking her, you, and Lucifer to the principal's office, she had to admit the teacher was fair. She'd given you the chance to sort the issue out. Though, unfortunately, the damage Lucifer had caused was too great for a simple conversation to fix.

Bruises she'd healed.

Humiliation, degradation… they would take a while to fade, if they ever did.

She'd been through it before; she knew how it worked. A reputation like that, however false and out of context, never quite went away. Most people may have stopped talking about it in public, but they knew. They knew, and many of them wondered and passed judgment because if there was smoke, there was bound to be fire, no matter how ludicrous the rumors were.

Rowena meant what she'd said — she could deal with it. She was no stranger to people whispering about her, calling her names behind her back, making senseless assumptions. She'd lived through it once, and she could do so again.

All she needed was for them to leave her alone.

They had a right to their opinions, however wrong they were. They had a right to speculate and badmouth her as soon as she turned her back.

She just asked that they not do it in her face.

It had taken her hours to make all her social media accounts private and delete the awful comments the night before. Her phone remained turned off; she didn't have it in her to click it to life to messages staring straight at her, accusatory, judgmental, cruel for the sake of being cruel. She could live without a phone for a few days, until she got a new number.

Her mother, on the other hand, was livid.

Principal Shurley's apologies fell on deaf ears as she screamed — actually screamed — in his face, her face ripe red, a bomb on the verge of explosion. Rowena was certain the entire school had heard her mother's shrill voice tearing into the Principal without a shred of mercy, with the same conviction and vigor Lucifer had put into ruining her reputation, into ruining her.

The Principal, to his credit, didn't know about the harassment and had promised to put a stop to it. He could try; he could get the posts down and threaten the bullies with detention, but nothing could make the rumors disappear.

People's minds couldn't be changed that easily.

For the remainder of the school year, Rowena would be a whore, a cheater, and a baby killer.

She wasn't ashamed of any of it. It hurt to have it shoved in her face so cruelly, but she stood behind her actions.

She wasn't going to apologize for surviving.

Her mother, bless her heart, shared the sentiment. Rowena was worried she would cast a bit of judgment of her own, or, at the very least, be disappointed in her for keeping it to herself, but, aside from a surprised tilt of her head at the news, her mother stood right by her.

Principal Shurley had almost had to fall to his knees to get her to not call the police. He'd promised the posts would be taken down and Lucifer would be punished, and, as a final plea, made plans to hold an assembly on bullying and harassment. If, afterwards, Rowena had any issues, she was free to contact him, he'd said. He would happily take care of the problem.

As if it was that easy.

As if one assembly could stop people from whispering "whore" behind her back for the rest of the semester.

Her mother still wasn't happy, but Rowena told her it was okay. She just wanted this mess to be over. She was tired of everything; of the Principal, of Lucifer's smug smirk even as his father chastised him, of you being forced to witness the entire charade under the threat of detention for "attempting to start a fight," when all you did was try to defend her.

After all was said and done, Rowena was given the rest of the day off. She'd spent it in her room, curled up on the bed in front of an old movie, one of those classics she always turned on for comfort.

She watched as the thick flakes of snow rained upon the street, and all she could think about was you. If you were okay. If, after she'd left, you'd gotten the stares and whispers in her place.

It was a miracle you still wanted to be with her. It couldn't have been easy to associate with someone with her kind of reputation. She wouldn't have blamed you one bit if you decided to break it off.

There was only so much a person could take.

Was love enough in situations like this?

It was a powerful emotion, overwhelming, but, unlike what the movies and books said, it wasn't absolute.

You were under no obligation to sink to the bottom with her.

A knock on the door shook her from her thoughts. "You alright, hon?" her mother's voice, thick with concern, came from the other end.

"Aye," she replied.

As alright as she could be, considering the day she'd had.

She wasn't bruised and battered this time. That had to count for something.

"Can I come in?"

She rolled her eyes, not in the mood for mother-daughter time, but still said, "Aye."

Her mother peered inside, then stepped into her room gently, tentatively, as if she were walking through a minefield. Her eyes fell on Rowena, looked her over in that typical worried mother way Rowena had always found overbearing.

"What are you watching?"

"Nothing," she said and shut the laptop. The end credits were rolling anyway.

Her mother shuffled her feet awkwardly. She took a small breath, and Rowena, well accustomed to that expression on her face, prepared for the inevitable. "Can we talk?"

"I'd rather not."

Not now, and not ever.

There were some things she couldn't talk to her about. Things that weren't for her, or anyone but you, to hear.

Her mother gave a nod, an honest one. "Okay," she said and meant it. She could be annoying, but she never pushed her children. Never forced them into unpleasant, uncomfortable situations. "Would you be okay with listening? I've a few things I'd like to say."

No, Rowena thought, but, with a shrug, said, "Whatever." The sooner she got it over with, the better.

"Is it okay if I sit?" her mother asked, looking down at the bed.

Rowena gave a small nod, though she wasn't the biggest fan of that, either. Her mother took a seat beside her feet, and all she could think about was that it was too close. Way, way too close.

The MacLeod family wasn't big on feelings. They rarely saw each other as it was, with mother working long hours, Crowley constantly heading out, and Rowena doing her own thing. They were a family in name only, really.

At best, their cohabitation could be described as symbiosis.

There was love, yes, and genuine affection, but they didn't show it.

They didn't have the time.

And, more importantly, pride didn't let them.

It certainly didn't let Rowena.

It took her a while to admit to herself she was in love with you, and even longer to say it to your face. Were it not for the confrontation the two of you had gotten into, she wouldn't have blurted it out anytime soon.

Her mother took a few moments to compose her thoughts into words, and what she said threw Rowena off balance. "I'm proud of you."

Rowena's chest tightened, heart burst into a sprint.

Where was this coming from?

Considering the stress she'd put the poor woman through lately, pride was the last thing she expected.

Disappointment?

Maybe.

Anger?

Definitely.

But pride?

Not in a thousand years.

Her mother continued, "You've grown into a marvelous young woman, and I've completely missed it. I look at you, and all I see is that wee girl with chubby cheeks and messy hair. But that's not you anymore. I know that now."

There was a wistfulness to her tone, a heartbreaking nostalgia.

"Don't get me wrong — you'll always be my precious wee girl, but you're also so much more. I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner."

Her hand reached for Rowena's. Rowena squeezed back, a left-over childhood instinct to hold her mother's hand tight and never, under any circumstances, let go.

Her mother was right — she was still that wee girl she used to be. She was grown now, but a part of her never left, and would always stay. A reminder of the innocence long gone.

"I should have been there for you. In Scotland. You shouldn't have been alone."

Scotland.

Right.

The harassment.

The abortion.

Everything bad she'd sworn to never go through again, only to make the same mistake and end up right at the start.

"I should have noticed."

"I was only a few weeks along," Rowena said. A small attempt at comfort.

"You're my baby," her mother said, adamant, decisive. "I should've known."

No.

She should not have.

Rowena had hidden it with a reason.

She hadn't wanted pity, and, though she knew deep down her mother would never turn her back on her, she didn't want to risk being told she couldn't do it.

Not that she would have listened; she would have had that abortion one way or the other, but the thought of her mother — the one person who was supposed to love her, to be on her side — being disappointed in her, looking at her as if she were a murderer… It broke her heart.

She'd had no one. No friends, no boyfriend anymore. No shoulder to cry on. And, with the whole mess with her father going on, the last thing she wanted was to lose her mother as well.

Willful loneliness was better than stone-cold rejection.

"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn't tell me." Her mother's eyes brimmed with tears; a few slid down her rosy cheeks, quickly wiped away with the sleeve of her shirt. "I know I was in a bad place after what happened with your father, and I'm always at work these days, but you're my child. You come first. Whatever is going on, you can tell me. I mean it — whatever. I will never, ever judge you."

Bloody hell!

Rowena's own eyes filled with tears. She willed them back, tried her hardest to regain her composure.

It was just a conversation.

She wasn't a sap.

"Okay," she simply said, and it took everything in her to hold her voice together.

Maybe, a traitorous thought crept up to her mind, she was a sap.

A very, very wee one.

Miniscule.

Her mother's lips widened into a smile. "If anybody else gives you trouble, tell me. I'll gladly put them in their place."

Because that was exactly what Rowena needed — for her mother to fight her battles.

That was a tad cruel, though, wasn't it?

Her mother cared about her, loved her.

What was wrong with that?

She would become known as mama' s girl, but that wasn't any worse than her current reputation.

Did it even matter?

What did she care about what some random Moira thought about her?

At least, she thought a tad smugly, her mother gave a damn about her.

The same couldn't be said for the majority of her peers' parents.

Rowena allowed a smile to bloom on her face. "I'll try."

Her mother beamed. Then, clearing her throat, said, "You and Y/N — is it true?"

Here came the awkward questions.

Rowena's face flushed ripe tomato red. She nodded.

It elicited a smile from her mother, big and bright. Happy to the bone. "She's a good lass."

"She is," Rowena agreed.

More than good.

You were everything to her.

One of the few people who gave her a chance. Who allowed herself to be her friend, to love her as she was without trying to change her.

Her miracle.

Whatever the future held, she would forever remain grateful to you.

What you'd done for her — what you'd given her, and kept giving her — would never be forgotten.

"She seems to care about you a lot," her mother said.

You have no idea. "She does. She's… kind to me."

Kinder than she would have been to herself if she were in your shoes.

After everything she'd done, she didn't deserve a second chance.

And yet…

"You feel the same, I suppose."

Rowena's cheeks couldn't get any redder. Her skin was hot enough to burn.

This wasn't the kind of thing one admitted to their parent. Or talked about. Or mentioned at all.

She cleared her throat, sucked in a small breath, and nodded.

She loved you. Goodness, she loved you. So much it sometimes hurt to be away from you.

She loved you so much she couldn't imagine her life without you.

There was a time, not too long ago, she thought it made her weak.

If it did, she never wanted to be strong again.

"Why don't you invite her over for dinner sometime?" her mother suggested, pleased by the response.

That was just what she needed — her girlfriend having dinner with her mother.

As if your relationship wasn't cliche enough.

There wasn't anything inherently wrong with it; her mother's liking of you was no secret, and you, awkward as you were, didn't seem to think anything ill of her.

Still, it was strange.

It made the relationship official. Serious.

Which it was, but to acknowledge it like that…

She wasn't sure she was ready for that.

"We'll see," Rowena said. If I'm ready was the unspoken addition.

It was enough for her mother. "I've got something for you." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a grayish-green bill.

A — Rowena realized, unable to conceal the surprise on her face — hundred dollar bill.

Her mother smiled. "I got a wee bonus at work."

Rowena was stunned. "Are you sure? What about—"

Bills?

Food?

She wasn't one to turn down free money, but she knew their situation wasn't as ideal as she preferred to think. They weren't poor, but they weren't rich, either. Far from it, in fact.

Their mother, working two jobs, always made sure she and Fergus had enough money for outings, generous as she was.

But a hundred dollars?

"Don't worry. Like I said, this is a bonus. I gave Fergus his share earlier, when he was heading out," her mother explained. "Gavin will be getting a wee toy tomorrow. And this—" she glanced down at the bill in her hand "—is yours."

A bonus, and her mother's first thought was handing it to her children.

Rowena's heart swelled with warmth, with love that made her chest ache.

She took the bill. Folded it up neatly and clasped her hands around it, almost protectively. "Thank you."

Her mother grinned. "Anything for my girl. It's Valentine's Day soon — why don't you take Y/N out someplace nice? Or buy yourself something lovely?"

A Valentine's Day date sounded like a marvelous idea.

Rowena already had a place in mind. A perfect thank you for standing by her, for never leaving her side. For loving her through everything bad.

"I just might," she said, smiling brightly, happily for the first time today.

"Great! Her mother's eyes fell on her discarded phone on the bedside table. "You need a new number, right?"

Rowena's face fell, gloom back with a vengeance.

"I'll take care of that for you tomorrow, when I go out with Gavin. Until then, you can use my phone, if you want. I assume you'd like to call or message Y/N?"

She perked right back up, like a flip of a switch.

They may not have hung out much, but her mother knew her so well.

"Thank you," she said again, and meant it from the bottom of her heart.

Today wasn't so bad, after all.

*****

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#rowena #rowena macleod #spn #supernatural #spn family #rowena x reader #fanfiction #my fics #high school au

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akittenwrites · 6 years

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The Knight and the Queen

Title: The Knight and the Queen

Author: @deanwinchesterxreader

Beta-reader: @emoryhemsworth

Summary: Queen Y/N and Sir Dean have an ungodly affair. Heavily inspired by ASOIAF.

Type: one shot

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word count:

7644

Warnings: swearing, violence, death, abortion, angst.

Tagging: @deanssexyassbutt@sherlock44@anokhi07;@supernatural-jackles @sm0l----bean @megapleasantturtle @dean-winchesters-girl-2002

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>

The gardens were beautiful during this time of the year. Pink and yellow roses decorated the clear fountain in the middle, while endless paths winded through the vibrant green grass, blooming with daffodils and tulips. Y/N closed her eyes momentarily as she let the light breeze caress her face, which carried the fragrance of the flowers around her. Then she looked up and met the blue color of the sky.

“What do you think, Daria?” she asked in a honeyed voice. “The gardens are a real beauty when spring arrives, aren’t they?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Daria nodded, standing a few feet behind her. “They are very well kept.”

“But it’s not the gardens you are admiring right now, is it?” she commented, turning around to scrutinize her, her face stoic. She held her chin high as she regarded Daria from head to toe, not even bothering to mask her disgust.

“My Queen, I don’t unders—“

“Act like a fool with me again and I’ll have your throat cut,” she threatened, striding past her. Daria hurried to follow behind her. “You’re a handmaiden Daria, lowborn. Sir Dean is a knight of my personal guard, and he would never take notice of somebody so much below his status. Know your place.”

“I apologize, Your Highness,” she rushed to say, bowing even though Y/N couldn’t see her. “It won’t happen again.”

“For your sake, I hope it doesn’t,” she declared with pursed lips, halting her pace a few feet away from Dean. “Now go, I don’t want you to bother me anymore.”

The moment Daria turned around and disappeared between the bushes with her tail between her legs, Dean’s eyes left the flowers to fix themselves on her. They made eye contact as he strolled to her side.

“Dean,” she said once he reached her. “We have important matters to discuss. Accompany me to my chambers.”

“Right behind you, Your Grace,” he nodded, his green eyes not leaving her. She was wearing a fitted burgundy gown today, and the long skirt trailed on the ground as she walked the path to exit the garden. Dean followed behind her just as he said he would, his own cloak floating with the wind. She led him through the long hallways he knew like the back of his hand, avoiding the Great Hall, until she reached the double doors that led to her wing of the castle. Outside, her doorkeeper stood guard.

“Grall,” she acknowledged, halting her pace. “I am not to be bothered. Not even by the king.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” he bowed his head, standing aside.

Her footsteps echoed through the hallways as she made her way to her bedchambers, no one in sight aside from the two of them and the silent watchmen that were stationed at every corner. She didn’t share a bed with King Crowley. She had only done so a handful of times in hopes of conceiving a child, and it didn’t happen again once Prince Gavin was born. King Fergus was more than content with one rightful heir, and he retired from the marriage bed after that. Their son had turned fourteen a few moons ago, and was sent to live with his uncle as, in King Fergus’ words, life in court was making him soft.

Queen Y/N cared as little for her husband as he cared for her. Their union was a political one, and nothing else. King Fergus had his own matters to attend to in court and with the royal council to be worrying about what she did in private. As long as word didn’t get out of her adultery, he didn’t care. Y/N could keep the Winchester as a pet if that was what she wanted, provided she did her duty in court, and didn’t meddle with his private affairs. He, as the king, didn’t have to be careful; he was allowed to take up as many mistresses as he wished.

Nobody was allowed inside the queen’s wing, known as the Winter Tower, without her direct approval. Her ladies in waiting had a specific schedule in which they were expected to attend to her needs, and afterwards they were asked to leave her alone unless she demanded their presence. The guards she had keeping watch at all times were to be trusted, and if word of anything unfavorable ever got out, they would be blamed and their tongues would be cut. Sir Dean was always tailing her, though. He was the head of her personal guard, and that made it his duty to make sure she was safe at all times. He had initially been a part of the king’s guard, but the queen had requested him specifically to fulfill that position in hers, and he couldn’t say no to such an honor.

He had become a knight to fight in the battlefield, not to prance around in court, but he had come to enjoy his time with the queen. She didn’t really need the protection inside the castle, so she allowed him to go off and do whatever he wanted often. As much as he missed the battles, with blood and swords and fighting, life in court gave him a different perspective. Being the head of the queen’s guard was a great honor, and he was grateful for it. He had become too old to fight in the field anyway, his title of “The Sword of Fear” now just a reminder of what he used to be.

When they finally reached her bedchambers he pushed the heavy oak doors open for her, and entered right behind her. Not half a second had passed since he closed the doors when Y/N’s wet lips were pressed against his, her hands finding the back of his neck and pulling him closer. He wrapped his arms around her waist as he responded with the same passion, letting himself get lost in the feeling of her tongue sliding against his. It wasn’t until they had to part for air and his breath came out in short bursts that reality hit him. He shouldn’t be doing this right now. He placed his arms on her shoulders and lightly pushed her away, making her take a step back and frown.

“What?” she asked, pressing her lips together. He didn’t answer, instead choosing to stare into her eyes, memorizing every inch of her face. His gaze travelled downwards to her chest, where her gown had silver pearls lavished on it, and the golden belt she was wearing made her breasts stand out. There was a gold necklace hanging from her neck, with a ruby rock dangling from it. He had had it made specifically for her.

“Dean?” she asked again.

“Y/N…” he breathed out, slumping his shoulders. “I… there’s something you need to know.”

She nodded, the lust from earlier completely vanished from her face. With her expression unmoving, he wondered if he was speaking to Queen Y/N now.

“What is it?” she insisted, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“It’s my father,” he admitted, rubbing the bridge of his nose and looking down. He’d rather stare at his own feet right now. “He betrothed me.”

“He did what?!” she snapped, her feet taking her backwards until she hit the edge of her bed. She promptly sat down, feeling the muscles in her legs quivering with red hot rage. “And you allowed this?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing down painfully as he did so. He had never felt so undeserving in his entire life. He had sworn he would do everything in his power to keep the queen safe, and he couldn’t keep her safe from himself. He had disappointed her. She wanted a brave man, and all she got was a shameful coward.

“I have no say in what he does,” he explained, sagging his shoulders. “I’m his heir.”

“You’re the head of my personal guard,” she bit out, clenching her jaw. “Your father has no rights over you.”

He took a deep breath, still not daring to meet her eyes. “From what he told me in his letter, King Fergus gave his consent.”

He could’ve sworn he heard the sound of her teeth grinding in the dead silence of the room.

“And your father didn’t think to ask for my permission?” she fumed, nostrils flaring. How dare he? How dare Lord Winchester go behind her back, knowing his son worked for her, not for the king? And how dare Fergus allow such a union? If this was his way of getting back at her for kicking those dirty whores of his out of the castle, he would pay dearly. “I am the queen! You swore fealty to me, not to my husband!”

“I know!” he exclaimed, punching the wall on his side. He could feel her furious stare from where he stood, and a wave of nausea washed over him. “It’s not my fault what he did.”

“Where is your father right now?” she seethed, standing up. Her fists were clenched at her sides as she began pacing back and forth in front of him. Her heels made her footsteps echo across the room, and it only served to put them both even more on edge.

“Back at Stonegate,” he answered, swallowing down the thickness in his throat. “He is planning on meeting with her father soon to arrange the last details in person. He wants me to get married in a few moons.”

“Forget about that,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I’ll have the scribe write him a letter summoning him to court.”

“What will you do?” he shook his head. “Tell him to break the arrangement?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I will do,” she nodded, the pounding in her ears making it hard to formulate an elaborate plan at the moment. She would know what to do when the time came.

“Y/N…” he began, dragging his footsteps to where she was. He tangled his fingers in her hair, letting himself get lost in her, even if it was just for a moment. “My father… he doesn’t believe in women in power. Trust me, I have thought every way out of this, but the king gave his permission, what are we supposed to do?”

She shook her head, wrapping her hand around his wrist and pushing him away.

“I have more power than some lowly liege lord and he will understand that. I will make him understand,” she snarled. “He will also understand that you’re not his anymore to sell to some whore.”

“Y/N…” he began, finally looking at her. She ignored him as she turned around and began pacing again, her hair swirling behind her. He couldn’t help noticing the way her eyebrows would furrow every few seconds, and his heart ached to envelop her in his arms and make it all better. He had been doing this for so long, dishonoring himself and her in the process, that he couldn’t bear being apart from her now. Yet he knew it was right. She was the queen, and he was a knight. They couldn’t hide forever. He knew she drank tea from the seeds of Queen Anne’s Lace every time he spilled inside her after sex, but they had been lucky. Or had they? He had heard of maidens carrying unwanted children in their wombs, the herb failing them. What would they do, should such a fate befall them? Seven years was a long time, and he was certain her teas hadn’t always worked. He didn’t know if he could stand the thought of her getting rid of their child, not anymore. He understood why she did it. Should the queen bear his bastard child, King Fergus would have both their heads on a stick. Yet, the thought made him nauseous now in a way it hadn’t before. He wanted a family of his own, and he wasn’t getting any younger. He wasn’t sure he would be able to give a satisfactory performance in the bedchamber with another woman other than Y/N, though. It had been so long since he had been with somebody else, he felt dirty just with the thought of touching a skin that wasn’t hers. He didn’t want another woman. He wanted her.

He was snapped out of this thoughts when she stopped in her tracks, staring at him with unmoving eyes.

“Why are you so reluctant? Do you want to marry her, Dean?”

“Of course not,” he denied, clenching his jaw. “You know you’re the only woman I want.”

“Who is she?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter!” his voice boomed. He wasn’t having this conversation with her. Not when just seconds before his skin crawled at the mere thought of sleeping with another woman. “I don’t care who she is. I don’t want her!”

“Who is she, Dean?”

He sighed and looked down, shaking his head.

“Lady Frenney, the daughter of the Frenneys of Capolta.”

Dean saw the rage flash in her eyes as she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Her whole body was trembling, and he wasn’t sure she would take it nicely if he tried to comfort her right now. Despite that, he ached to hold her in his arms.

“She’s half my age! Hell, she’s half your age!” she yelled, her eyes becoming teary. “She hasn’t even reached adulthood yet, and you’re planning on marrying her? Of course you would. Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place? That you’re leaving me for a pretty little maid half my age?”

“I am not leaving you,” he assured her, walking the distance that separated them in a few long steps. He rubbed her shoulders with one hand as he used the other one to wipe the tears away from her eyes. Her vulnerability made his chest constrict around his heart. “I will find a way to come here as often as I can. I promise you that.”

She nodded, staring at the floor. Her throat was dry and at the moment all she wanted was to lay in bed, underneath her fur covers, and not come out. A chill ran through her body and she rubbed her forearms, suddenly feeling cold. Dean noticed immediately and wrapped his arms around her, laying a kiss on the top of her head.

“Will you?” she whispered, her tone defeated. “Maybe once you lay with her you realize you prefer her over me.”

“There is no woman in this world I’d rather be with than you, Y/N.”

“Then don’t marry her,” she pleaded, burying her head in his chest.

He sighed, closing his eyes as he stroked her arms. Despite his armor, he could feel her warmth against him, and as he stayed there with her, he felt whole. He imagined himself spending the rest of his life by her side, but he knew they couldn’t do it anymore. Not like this. There would come a day when King Crowley would kill them both should they continue to go down this path.

“And what am I supposed to do? Stay as your personal guard until my hair turns gray and my hands are useless?” he tried to laugh, but it didn’t come out. He disentangled himself from her to gaze into her eyes again, though he didn’t stop touching her. “I can’t be your knight forever, Y/N. I’m almost forty.”

“King Fergus won’t live that long,” she said, her voice shaking as her fingers dug into his arms. “I told you already. As soon as he passes, it will be just you and me.”

“Are you sure? Because marrying the head of your guard is a sure way to shatter your reputation.”

“I will be Queen regent. If anyone dares speak ill of me, I’ll have them killed.”

“If nobody supports you, you’ll have nobody killed,” he retorted.

“I know how to maintain power, Dean,” she snapped. “I’m not some naïve maid from Capolta.”

“I know,” he sighed. Sometimes in his overwhelming desire to protect her, he overlooked the fact that she wasn’t a trophy queen. She was a very capable woman that did a lot more than sewing and posing for the artists. She was his queen too, and she was powerful. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t live anymore knowing we’ll never be something real. It hurts me even more than being away from you.”

“We will be real,” she assured, placing her hands on each side of his face. “I promise you that.”

“You can’t make that kind of promise,” he shook his head.

“I can. King Fergus won’t live to see another new moon. I swear it on my life.”

He took a step back.

“Y/N, this is treason you’re speaking of, I can’t…”

She scoffed, letting him go.

“As if you weren’t already committing treason by sleeping with the king’s wife.”

“It’s not the same,” he insisted.

“You’re not going to do anything,” she said, her fingers finding his the ties of his cloak and starting to undo them. “I will.”

“God will condemn us,” he stated, letting his eyes flutter closed as his cloak fell to the floor.

“We’re going to Hell already. And I don’t care, not as long as it’s with you.”

“I can take no part in this.”

“You won’t. Just… don’t judge me. I will be doing more good than bad for this kingdom.”

“I would never judge you,” he replied, opening his eyes to find hers looking at him. “I love you.”

As she took his clothes off piece by piece, and worshipped every part of his body, he wondered if he’d be willing to turn his back on his king for her.

He was. He was willing to kill for her. He was willing to die for her.

He took her in like the first time, captivated by the sight of her naked flesh. He made love to her as if it was the last time, reveling in the feeling of her body against his. And as they lay in bed together that night, the decision was made.

For both of them.

***

Despite it being the middle of spring, a light rain was falling, and Y/N observed it from her sunroom. She sipped on red wine, enjoying the way it burned her throat, sweet yet strong. It was made from their own grapes, grown in the gardens, picked and crushed by the royal winemakers. As she closed her eyes and relaxed, somebody knocked on the door. She placed the gold cup on the wooden chest next to her before standing up and giving the signal for the person to come in.

One of the knights from her personal guard, Sir Wallace, opened the door and let himself in.

“Your Grace, Lord Winchester has arrived,” he informed. “He was led to one of the meeting rooms like Your Grace requested.”

“Good,” she nodded, walking towards the door. “Would you escort me there?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Dean was off duty for the day as he had to train some green knights she had asked to be incorporated into her guard. Besides, she didn’t want him to meet with Lord Winchester. He was aware his father would be arriving today, but agreed that it would be for the best if they didn’t meet. The less Dean was involved in this insanity, the better.

John Winchester was sitting in front of her wooden study desk when she entered the small room, and stood up immediately. She ordered the knight to wait outside, and when the door was closed behind her, made her way to her chair.

“Lord Winchester,” she acknowledged, sitting down and leaning backwards as she examined him. He looked older than the last time she had seen him, his black hair turned salt-and-pepper, with a gray beard and dark circles under his eyes. Still, he stood tall and proud before her, the years making his presence even stronger.

“Your Grace,” he bowed.

“You may sit,” she smiled tightly. “I apologize for summoning you with such short notice, Lord Winchester. How are you fairing?”

“Things have been going well at Stonegate,” he replied as he sat down, placing his arms on the chair’s armrests.

“So I’ve heard. How is your youngest? I haven’t had the chance to see him in a long time.”

“He’s very smart. Smarter than me, even. His teacher is amazed at his skills. He would make a great Lord.”

“I imagine so,” she said, placing her arms on the desk and leaning forward. She waited a few seconds before speaking again. “As much as I enjoy learning about your family, Lord Winchester, I didn’t ask for you to come here to do so.”

“I expected as much. What is it you’d like to discuss, Your Grace?”

“Your son, Dean.”

“Is it about his betrothal?”

“You’re a very perceptive man, John. Has anyone ever told you so?”

“I’ve been told it’s never a good thing here in court.”

She laughed, her eyes glinting as she examined his expression. He knew exactly what she would ask of him, and had probably already thought a hundred different ways of saying no. He would try to negotiate, she could see it in his eyes, but it would make no difference.

Queens always got what they wanted.

“It is dangerous, indeed,” she agreed, a smile still on her face. “There is no point in beating around the bushes, though, is there? I summoned you to ask you to end it. You son is of more value to me as a knight than to you as a lord.”

“He is my firstborn and I’m getting old, Your Grace,” he replied, his voice softer than she had ever heard it, yet his lips pressed together and the darkness of his eyes betrayed him. “Stonegate belongs to him by birth right.”

“He is not your only son,” she offered, her tone dismissive. “Sir Dean is far too preoccupied being a knight to care about being a lord.”

Lord Winchester clenched his jaw for a few seconds before speaking again, his tone flat and carefully controlled.

“I apologize, Your Grace, but I have King Crowley’s permission to proceed with the betrothal. I appreciate you think so highly of my son, but I need him back home, not here in court.”

“It appears I haven’t been clear enough,” she stated. “He is the head of my personal guard, and I need him here. It’s not a request. It’s a command. Tell Lord Frenney the betrothal is off.”

For a person who received a Lord’s education, John Winchester sure hadn’t learned to control his impulses. Something seemed to snap inside him at her words, and he frowned at her.

“I won’t let my son stay in court and further tarnish his reputation!” he snarled through clenched teeth. “There are enough rumors already!”

“Rumors?” she frowned, a chill running down her back. “What kind of rumors?”

“The kind about his ungodly interest in his queen!” he seethed, gripping the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

“There is no such thing in reality,” she answered in a controlled manner, ignoring the pounding of her heart against her chest. How had such a rumor spread all the way to Stonegate without her being aware of it? Had she been so focused on herself that she hadn’t seen what was happening right under her eyes?

“I know,” Lord Winchester stated. “My son is no fool. I raised him well. But it’s time for him to move on.”

She clenched her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. “Are you defying me?”

“I have the king’s approval,” he challenged.

The laugh escaped her lips without her consent, mocking him.

“You think the king is the only one you owe your loyalty to?” she smiled slightly, standing up tall in front of him. “Remember who you are, Lord Winchester, and who I am.”

“I have fought in more battles than years you have lived, Your Grace. I fear nothing.”

“Call off the betrothal, and your disrespect might be forgotten. Don’t, and you can say goodbye to your life. I have guards stationed outside who will not hesitate to end it.”

“You would lose Stonegate’s support,” he answered, standing up as well. He was taller than her, yet he couldn’t intimidate her. Not when she was the one wielding true power in the room.

“Are you sure? Because last I remember, Sam is your current heir. And Sam is too smart to commit treason against the Crown,” she commented, making her way around the desk. “So here are your options. You call it off and start preparing Sam to become the next Lord of Stonegate, or don’t, and the engagement will still be off, with the addition that I’ll have your head for it.”

“How will you know I’m not lying when I say I’ll call it off? What if I arrive at Stonegate and decide to go on?” he insisted.

“Then you’re even more stupid than I thought,” she answered simply. “Do not test me, Lord Winchester. My influence in the royal council is stronger than you think.”

“You would start a war? For what, an aging knight?”

“No, I couldn’t care less about him,” she lied. “It’s your arrogance I would start a war for.”

He stayed silent for a few seconds and looked down. Finally, he lifted his head and nodded.

“I will call it off as soon as I arrive at Stonegate.”

“No,” she announced. “You will do it now. The scribe will write the letter for you.”

“I can write my own letters,” he replied.

“You won’t write anything while you’re here. You will sign it and seal it. That will be all,” she concluded, making her way to the door. “Stay here. The scribe will come for you. Oh, and if Sir Dean finds out anything…”

“I’ll tell him I just decided to call it off because it’s not a good match.”

“Good. He doesn’t know you’re here,” she lied, knocking on the door for the guard on the other side to open it. “So hurry, and you’ll leave before dusk.”

***

King Fergus was already seated at the high table when Y/N arrived escorted by her ladies-in-waiting. Lord Winchester had already left the castle after having sent a letter to Lord Frenney to let him know the betrothal was off. As she climbed the platform and took her seat next to the king, the castle’s minstrel came forward with his psaltery. His red and golden clothes stood out in the Great Hall when he took his place in one of its corners. As he startled playing a popular ballad, one of the cupbearers approached her and poured red wine in her goblet.

“My King,” she greeted as she sat down on the wooden carved chair.

“Queen Y/N,” he responded, not turning to look at her. “I haven’t had the chance to see you all day.”

“I’ve been busy,” she said, her eyes catching Sir Dean’s across the Great Hall. He was standing guard in one of the corners. The royal knights did not dine with the rest of court. “There were some matters I had to attend to.”

“Were those matters related to Lord Winchester being in the castle earlier?”

Her heart seemed to stop for a moment.

His tone was dismissive as he bit into a piece of meat, as if he hadn’t just revealed he knew everything she had been up to. Still, she recovered and pretended to be unfazed by his words as she spoke.

“You have good informants, Fergus.”

He leaned closer to her, even though they were the only ones in the large wooden table and the singer’s voice wouldn’t let anyone hear what they were talking about.

“I do, darling,” he said, waving for his cupbearer to come near him. “You know I allowed that marriage, so why did you think it was wise to intervene?”

The cupbearer filled their cups and hurried to leave again. He knew perfectly well it wasn’t wise to hang around the king and queen when they were talking.

“Dean is my knight. You had no right,” she answered, reaching for her cup again. If Fergus thought his ire would be enough for her to yield, he was wrong. He wasn’t the only one in command, and he wasn’t the only one with reasons to be displeased.

“And you had no right to disrespect my authority in such a way,” he bit out. “What am I, a joke? I make a decision and you defy me?”

“You knew what would happen if you messed with my personal affairs,” she replied, smiling warmly at one of the highborn ladies who happened to be looking at her. “Maybe you’ll reconsider next time.”

“I am the king,” he snarled, breathing through his teeth. His face was so close to hers now that she could smell the alcohol in his breath. She ignored him, her gaze still wandering around the hall. “I don’t need your permission to do anything. Your job is to bear my children and look pretty here in court. Your defiance will have consequences.”

“Careful with your words, Fergus,” she snapped, pressing her lips together. “Remember where your gold is coming from.”

There was a short pause before he spoke again.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Just reminding you.”

He backed away to drink the rest of his wine, his eyes still on her. The minstrel was playing a romantic ballad about a king and his queen of old now, and how tragically beautiful their love had been. She smiled at the irony as she finished the last bite of her food. Her neck was starting to hurt her after wearing the crown for so long, and she was about to call one of her ladies-in-waiting to leave the Great Hall when Fergus leaned close once again.

“It still doesn’t change the fact that you can’t undermine my authority,” he grunted.

“I wouldn’t have done so if you had respected me,” she said, annoyed. How long was he planning on dragging this for? “You brought it upon yourself. What were you thinking, sending Dean away behind my back?”

“The rumors are increasing, Y/N,” he informed. “I can’t afford to look like a fool in front of the people!”

She sighed, regarding him with a scowl.

“You know they are just rumors. Nobody has proof of anything.”

Fergus laughed as if she had just told the funniest joke in the world. When he finally calmed down, he sneered at her. “You might think you are protected by the huge security system you have created with your guards, your doorkeeper and your schedules…” he mocked. “But you have only built the suspicion even more.”

“There have always been rumors,” she accepted, her jaw clenched. “Why is there a change now?”

“It is not something that should be discussed here,” he answered, leaning back on his chair.

“Everyone is focused on the fool,” she insisted. “Just tell me.”

“One of your ladies noticed your blood is late.”

She gasped, a sudden chill running down her back.

“What?”

How much of a fool had she been acting like lately? First not noticing the rumours had spread all the way to Stonegate, now one of her own servants betraying her right under her nose. As soon as she figured out who it was, she would have her lynched through the streets, all the way to the gallows, and she’d be present during the execution… maybe even have her tongue cut out first, to teach the rest of them a lesson.

It was probably Daria, that two-faced whore.

What bothered her most was that she hadn’t even realized her blood was late. What was going on with her? How had she become so careless, letting a spy into her most trusted circle, not paying attention to matters of such importance? She had brought it upon herself.

“It has reached my ears,” Fergus responded, waving at the minstrel to come closer.

“If that’s true, I’ll get rid of it,” she assured him, pretending everything was under control. She had done it in the past, so why not do it again? Fergus had never found out before, and neither had Dean, but now things were different. Now she wasn’t being careful anymore, and her carefully crafted web of lies was falling apart.

“You won’t,” he stated, not bothering to look at her. “You have humiliated me long enough.”

He tapped his knuckles three times on the wooden table and five of his personal guards were suddenly on them, blocking her view from the rest of the hall. She stood up immediately, decided to leave on her own and retain some of her dignity rather than being escorted out, yet a gloved hand stopped her.

“Not so fast, Y/N,” Fergus said from behind her before she even had the chance to threaten the life of the knight who had dared touch her. “Seize her.”

She was surrounded in half a heartbeat, two of the king’s knights grabbing her arms, the rest of them around her. The metal of their gauntlets dug into her skin, but physical pain was the last thing in her mind at the moment. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up for long.

The minstrel wasn’t singing anymore and the fool wasn’t telling jokes. The only sounds were those of swords being drawn and hard footsteps. Maybe even some gasps here and there.

“Let me go,” she whispered through clenched teeth, clutching at one of the knight’s armored shoulder. “Or you’ll regret this, Fergus.”

“I don’t think I will,” he responded, though she could barely hear him over the chaos the Great Hall had turned into now. Somebody snatched the crown from her head, and she hissed as they pulled her hair in the process. Y/N tried to get a look of the rest of the hall, but she couldn’t even see Fergus over the agglomeration of swords and plate armor. They had her completely enclosed, making it hard to breathe. Where was her personal guard? Where was Dean? She couldn’t see anything as she was dragged out, but she did hear the clank of metal against metal, the screams of horror from the ladies and the hushed whispers from the lords. She could feel the blood rushing in her ears when one of the knights reached forward and ripped her necklace off.

“What the hell?” she shrieked, struggling against their grasp. “Give it back! Give it back now!”

The knight laughed at her and wrapped the chain around his wrist.

“Why would I, little queen? Or should I say little whore now?” he taunted, making another one laugh as well. “You’re not my queen anymore. Let’s see how long you manage to keep your head on your shoulders.”

“It doesn’t belong to you,” she spat, nostrils flaring. “It is mine. You’ll pay for this.”

The knight chuckled again, but didn’t respond as they had reached the main corridors.

Her chest tightened and her heart clenched as the fine piece of jewelry disappeared from her sight. Dean had it made for her... He had no right! They could take her crown, her gold, her pearls, her earrings, her bracelets, her gowns… anything except for that. Tears started to form in her eyes and she attempted to swallow them down. She wouldn’t cry. She was the queen. She wouldn’t lose her composure like this.

Dean would make her another one. He wouldn’t mind that she lost this one, would he? No, he would forgive her. Or maybe he would get it back for her. He’d understand.

They walked through the halls, passing the knights doing their rounds, and none of them batted an eye to their queen being treated like a common thief. How long had Fergus been planning this? They all knew… everyone knew, and none of them warned her. She wondered if Grall had known as well, or if Fergus had decided to get rid of all those in her service.

What about Dean? Had he fought for her? Was he even still alive?

Yes, he was. Of course he was. He would kill them all and get her out of this mess.

She could barely keep up with the pace of Fergus’ dogs with her heavy shoes weighing her down, and lost one of them as they climbed down some stairs she barely recognized. When she noticed the moss in the stone walls, she dug her feet into the ground to try and stop them.

“The dungeons?!” she roared, wriggling out of one’s grasp. “You’re taking me to the dungeons?”

They didn’t answer, grabbing her again as if she was nothing more than a cheap doll. The brutes were just dogs for Fergus to command.

“How dare you!” she screamed, attempting to shove them out of the way. “I am the queen! You can’t do this!”

Even a fly could’ve done them more damage than her as she kicked and screamed, her voice turning hoarse and useless. They were so deep underground now that one of the guards had to carry a torch in front of them, leading the way. Y/N thrashed against them over and over until the one that had stolen her necklace struck her so hard she fell and crumpled on the floor. The shock from the slap and the sting in her cheek kept her quiet for the rest of the way until they reached an old cell that stank of moss and shit, and threw her inside.

She grabbed the old iron bars as they were locking her up.

“When I’m out of here,” she whispered, looking at the brute, “you will be the first to die. It won’t be the gallows or beheading. I’ll burn you alive, you and all your dirty spawn, your mother, your sisters, your children, your wife. I’ll wipe your race off this earth and you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

“Keep dreaming, my queen,” he mocked. He spoke once again before leaving her in complete darkness, taking the last torch with him. “Enjoy your stay.”

***

Minutes turned into hours and hours turned into days. Y/N lost track of time as if she’d been locked up for years. At first, she was certain they would leave her there to rot and die as dehydration started to settle in and nobody approached her with a jug of water or a bite of food. She’d tried calling out into the darkness, but apparently she was the only one buried in this rathole. There was not even a single torch to light her cell, and she ended up wrapping her arms around herself, shivering and hoping Dean would come for her.

She had already grown accustomed to the stink of urine and dampness when a flickering light made its way to her. It was a flame, a torch, she realized as it came closer. It shone so brightly that she couldn’t see who her visitor was, but they handed her a cup of water through the black iron bars.

“Tell Fergus I want to talk to him,” she spoke once she had drank it, trying to sound commanding yet failing as her voice came out raspy and faint. How long had it been?

They didn’t answer, instead taking her cup in complete silence and leaving her in the darkness again.

What would become of her? If they were keeping her alive, Fergus must have something planned, but for what? Maybe to keep her prisoner until she gave birth to the child that was growing in her womb… Dean’s child. Maybe she’d be his prisoner forever. There was another possibility she’d rather not consider at all.

And yet, Dean was the one her mind kept going back to. She rubbed her arms, the cold seeping into her bones, and hoped he would come for her soon. Her only wish was to have his arms around her, sleeping peacefully under her fur covers, as if none of this had ever happened. She closed her eyes and dreamed of tracing his warm skin with her fingers, learning him again, just one more time. She had grown so accustomed to having him always by her side that now her heart ached just to see him. She needed him. Was he even alright? He had to be. Her chest tightened even further at the thought of him being imprisoned just like her, or worse. He deserved none of it. She was the one who had acted like a careless fool, and it wasn’t fair for Dean to be dragged down with her.

If she could go back in time, she would change everything. Sir Dean would be an honorable knight, married to a lady of his status, and she would behave as the queen she was supposed to. Her deceptions and manipulations had been her downfall in the end, but Dean shouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of her behavior.

The next time somebody approached her with a torch, it wasn’t to give her water. They were armed men who opened her cell and dragged her out, her knees cracking as they did so. Her authority had disappeared in the time it took a butterfly to bat its wings. Now, Y/N held no more power than a common peasant. Her rise to the throne had been carefully crafted with patience and hard work, only for it to be dismantled to the ground.

Nothing lasts forever. Somehow, she thought she would.

“Where are you taking me?” she whimpered, the effort making her throat ache. It was pointless. Nobody cared enough to give her an answer. Instead, they dragged her through the dungeons until they reached the same stone stairs that had taken her down, and she knew something was about to change. The cramps in her legs didn’t make the climb easy, and the brightness almost blinded her when they reached the top. She reveled in it all the same, as this may be the last time she got to see any of it.

The moment Y/N’s eyes landed on the enormous entrance and heard the clamoring of hundreds of voices, she knew where they were taking her. And it didn’t matter anymore, because at that exact moment she saw who was already there, shackled and forced to kneel before the people.

“Dean!” she screamed, the pain in her throat meaningless. He couldn’t hear her over the commotion, but she kept yelling as they approached him in the wooden platform. Finally, he looked up. His eyes were glassy and the bright green that had always fascinated her was replaced by a dull, dead color.

“Y/N,” he whispered in a broken voice. His lip was split, his face was dirty, and with his brows furrowed, he seemed to be in more pain than she was.

She didn’t know if she’d somehow managed to develop the strength of a soldier, if the guards were distracted, or they simply didn’t care, but she managed to slip away from them and ran towards Dean, kneeling next to him. She wrapped her arms around him, wanting to feel him one last time. He stank of blood and sweat, but it was still him, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. There was no executioner waiting in the corner, no guards making their way towards her, no people vociferating and cheering for their deaths. It was just the two of them.

When she pulled away to gaze into his eyes she saw he was crying, and only then did she realize she was crying too. Tears stained both their cheeks as she leaned closer to him.

“I’m sorry,” her voice cracked as she sniffled. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you. I love you.”

He didn’t say anything, instead reaching her lips to give her one last kiss. It was sweet and short but it said everything that needed to be said. I love you.

“Don’t be,” he shook his head. “It’s not your fault. I should’ve protected you.”

“I did this to you,” she choked out, lifting a hand to caress his scruffy face. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself get lost in her touch. “Take care of them, please. Tell them I’m sorry and I’ve loved them.”

“Who?” he asked, furrowing his brows. “What’re you talking about?”

“Our children,” she explained. “You have to tell them. Please.”

“No,” he shook his head, leaning away from her. “You’ll tell them yourself.”

“They’re in heaven,” she insisted, her eyes catching the guards approaching them. They didn’t have much time left. “I won’t get to see them, Dean. Promise me you’ll tell them, please.”

“No, no, you’ll be there…”

“I killed them!” Y/N cried, her gaze darting to the guard a few feet away from her now. Dean had to understand. He had to tell them. “I’m going to the deepest pits of hell. Don’t try and comfort me.”

“Then I’m going to hell too,” he whispered. “If there is something waiting for us, I won’t be without you.”

“No,” she smiled softly as the guard grabbed her arm and lifted her to her feet. She increased the volume of her voice as he started tugging and dragging her away from him. “Your only sin was loving me more than I deserve. I love you. I love you! Tell them I love them! Tell them!!!”

That was the last thing she said before the cries and drumming became so loud they could no longer hear each other. She kept struggling when they forced her to kneel and keep her head down.

Dean mouthed he loved her.

That was the last thing she ever saw before the blade sliced right through her, ending it all forever.

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean imagine #spn x reader

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betweensceneswriter · 6 years

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Second Wife-Chapter 8 : The Gentleman of Leisure

Second Wife Table of Contents

Second Wife on AO3

Previously - Chapter 7 : Never Forgotten Laoghaire had wanted Jamie as long as she could remember.

“’You told me then that should I be arrested and executed, you would have Masses said for my soul for the space of a year…But if I should lose an ear or a hand while doing your service—'

‘I would support you for the rest of your life.’ Jamie was unsure whether to laugh or cry, and contented himself with patting the hand that now lay quiet on the quilt. ‘Aye, I remember. You may trust me to keep the bargain.’

‘Oh, I have always trusted you, milord,’ Fergus assured him… ‘So I am fortunate…for in one stroke, I am become a gentleman of leisure, non?’” (Outlander, 69).

“Milord!” The voice had changed and deepened in the many years since Jamie had first recruited the little pickpocket in Paris, but he’d recognize the lilting French accent anywhere. Jamie turned to see the distinctive mass of brown curls and bright blue eyes of his young ward, as Fergus dismounted from his horse and came toward him.

Fergus had a large pack on the back of his horse, and as he approached Jamie with a question on his face, Jamie already had a distinct idea of what the request would be.

“Milord, I would not wish to trouble you, and you have already done so much for me. You are barely established here at Balriggan, and just newly married…” Fergus seemed to be spending as much time on the preliminaries and justifications as he was planning to on the request.

“Out wi’ it, Fergus. Ye shouldna feel worrit about askin’ me for anything.” Though Jamie’s tone was gruff, he seemed genuinely pleased to see Fergus again.

Fergus sighed. “Do you imagine you could find work for me here at Balriggan? You had only just returned from England when you married Mistress MacKimmie. I know you might be fine without my assistance, but I miss seeing you, and they already have so many men and boys at Lallybroch, and I thought, with the time for planting arrived…”

The young man was quickly enveloped in a bear hug, the red curls and brown blending for a minute. “Aye, Fergus, I can use your help. I’m fair glad you’ve come. Here, let’s take your things inside and get ye settled.”

Jamie had assumed that Fergus would be quickly welcomed as a part of the family at Balriggan. He was sadly mistaken. From the instant Laoghaire saw Fergus enter their house carrying a valise, the chill in the air was palpable. She took to banging the pots on the stove more loudly than necessary, and when they sat to the table for supper, though Jamie and Fergus had made themselves useful and both cleaned up before the meal as well, she wrinkled her nose at them as if they disgusted her.

Joan had no such qualms. She found Fergus’s accent enchanting and his hook intriguing.

“Yer like a real pirate!” announced Joanie, excitedly gripping the hook to look at it closely. “Ye only need an eye patch and a parrot, and a tri-corn hat, and maybe a beard, with glowing firebrands in it…”

“Joanie,” Jamie said, smiling, but trying to shush her with a small shake of his head. “Fergus hasna ever been to the West Indies.”

“But if I had,” Fergus announced with a grin, “I am most certain I would make an excellent pirate!”

Though Fergus’s response delighted Joanie to no end, Jamie saw that Laoghaire was stewing, the set of her jaw a dead giveaway that they would be having a mostly one-sided discussion later in their bedchamber.

During the meal, Marsali was quiet, shyly spending more time gazing down at her food than taking part in the conversation. Jamie had noticed some marked changes in his step-daughter since she had begun her courses a month or so prior. The thirteen-year-old girl who used to willingly tromp in mud barefoot without caring about the state of her skirts, climb trees and run madly around the farm, play sword-fighting with Joanie with some long sticks, was now spending an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror in the morning, brushing her hair. She took more care about her garments, and she seemed to pay attention to the interactions between Laoghaire and Jamie, which made him very nervous. She should not be learning how to be a wife from her mother.

Marsali’s form was changing, too, whether because she was being less active, or just because she was now a woman. She was a bonny young lass, who would make some laddie a good wife. In three or four years, though, at the very earliest, once she was 16 or 17.

What disturbed Jamie slightly at the dinner table was that he also noticed a strange alertness in Fergus. Though Marsali’s eyes would not often fall on the young Frenchman, his were on her quite often, and it almost seemed as if he watched especially for her reaction when he told them all stories about his part in the Rising or helping Jamie in his spying escapades in France.

Once Fergus was about to mention Claire, and Jamie desperately caught his eye and shook his head; fortunately the young man noticed and turned the story in another direction. Unless Jamie was prepared for the discussion tonight to enter the realm of death threats, Claire’s name must not be spoken.

Laoghaire did once direct a question to Fergus. “So, ye’ve been to Edinburgh, then?”

“Oui,” said Fergus. “I’m not really cut out to be a farmer, so I’ve looked into different trades there. There are shopkeepers and excise men, printers and blacksmiths; importers, tavern owners, lawyers. I haven’t decided what I want to do, but I do intend to make myself a living. I’m vingt-neuf, ah, twenty-nine years old? If I wish to marry, I must make a fortune first!”

Marsali colored briefly, looking up in surprise when Fergus mentioned his age. He wasn’t like the young Scotsmen she was constantly surrounded by, big and braw, tall and muscular. He was fine- featured and slender, and he did not look as old as he said.

“If you find a job in Edinburgh, will you also find your wife there?” Laoghaire asked pleasantly.

“There are many young ladies in Edinburgh,” Fergus responded. “But I believe there are none so bonny as your daughters.” He grinned sidelong at Marsali, who blushed and focused on the last piece of tattie she had on her plate.

Jamie looked alarmed, and Laoghaire, furious. Fergus glanced back and forth from one to the other and quickly decided he should make his excuses and turn in for the night. Considering how the evening had gone, Jamie thought it best to set Fergus up in the loft over the stables instead of in the main house. Laoghaire had seemed so angry already; he did not want to risk an explosion.

As he helped make up the bed for Fergus, Jamie sighed deeply and began to speak.

“I dinna ken if I really saw what I think I did at dinner. But I must say to you, Marsali is thirteen, Fergus. Now, I’d trust ye with my life, but I willna trust you wi’ my daughter. I canna make it more clear than this.” He looked straight at the young Frenchman, meeting his eyes directly. “Keep your hands off her.”

Fergus impishly lifted both forearms in the air, showing one hand and one hook.

Jamie shook his head in good-humored disgust. “If ye dinna listen to me, lad, you may end up wi’ one less hand, ye wee Frangach. Keep yer hand off her, and yer hook. And yer lips. And yer wheedling eyes. And yer sweet talk.”

Fergus shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I will do as you say, milord. Marsali is lovely, but I do not see her in that way.”

“Good. Just remember, Fergus. Yer a man, and she’s a bairn. And her ma will kill you and will never forgive me if ye do anything with Marsali at all.”

Leaving Fergus with a decanter of their best whisky, Jamie headed down the ladder and into the house, steeling himself to meet his fate in the bedchamber with Laoghaire.

“You’ve put him in the stable?” Laoghaire asked, as Jamie entered their room and closed the door.

“Yes, Laoghaire,” Jamie responded. “Though he should be staying in the house, I have put him in the stable.”

“He should not be staying in the house. We’ve got two daughters,” Laoghaire insisted. “And he’s the bastard son of a French whore, who grew up in a whorehouse.”

Jamie’s eyes told Laoghaire she was treading on dangerous ground. “My da was a bastard son, Laoghaire. A child hasna any say about where they are born or who their parents are. Fergus is a good lad, and I’ve kent him for twenty years. He hasna lived in a whorehouse since we met.” Jamie didn’t persist any further, as he knew that while Fergus hadn’t lived in a whorehouse in all that time, he may have been to one, if the tales Wee Jamie and Rabbie had told him were true.

“If I dinna want that Frenchman here, ye canna say he can stay,” Laoghaire fumed. Even in her anger she couldn’t stay still. She was straightening quilts and folding clothes as if her life depended on it. “This is my home, James Fraser.”

“’Tis it now?” Jamie asked casually, his jaw twitching. “Seems to me that one of the marriage vows is ‘With all my worldly goods, I thee endow!’ This place is as much mine as yers now. I’ve worked this land plenty. I’ve made our home a better place.”

“Ye ken what I mean, and you know it, James Fraser,” she said, glaring. He always knew he was in trouble when she took to calling him his given name.

“Yes, I ken what you mean, but I also know who Fergus is to me. He’s the closest thing to a son I have in my life.” For a split second, Jamie thought of Willie, but Willie didn't count, obviously.

“But he’s not your son, is he?” Laoghaire asked, shaking out the feather pillows from atop their bed. She couldn’t see the way Jamie was clenching his jaw in response, or she might have reconsidered her words.

“Your girls arena mine either, now, are they? But I love them as my own,” Jamie insisted. “I’ve known Fergus longer. And I vowed to support the lad, if ever he was wounded in my service.”

Laoghaire sniffed scornfully. “And because he was foolish and taunted the British and lost his hand, you’re bound to him for life?”

“Fergus lost his hand drawing the Redcoats away from my cave and you ken it, Laoghaire,” Jamie started to raise his voice. “If it werena for the lad, you wouldna have a husband at all.”

“A husband!” Laoghaire scoffed bitterly. “How can you be called a husband when ye dinna respect my wishes, and ye dinna love me?”

Jamie took two fierce steps toward Laoghaire. “How can I love ye, when ye willna even let me touch ye?” His eyes were fiery, his body expanding in his anger. “When ye willna let me kiss ye?! Yer always sayin’, ‘Oh, Jamie, ye shouldna touch that.’ ‘It’s filthy’. ‘Ye canna kiss me there’. ‘Oh, ye shouldna put yer hand on that!’”

Laoghaire’s face was crimson, and she was nearly hyperventilating as she faced him, her fists balled at her sides.

“You’re heartless and cruel,” she screeched.

“I’m heartless? At least I tried,” said Jamie, shaking his head and glaring at her. “Yer the one who willna let me near ye. Yer the one who has made this room as cold as a prison! I’d rather sleep on the floor of a cell in Ardsmuir!”

“Well…well, yer a lecherous beast!” Laoghaire said accusingly, her lips quivering.

“A lecherous beast?” Jamie rolled his eyes scornfully. “Now there’s a lie if ever there was one. I am no lecher… In fact, I dinna ken if I’m even capable of a respectable cockstand anymore. Yer such an icy bitch, ye’ve rendered me a eunuch!” With his final words, he flung the bedroom door open and stomped down the hall, leaving Laoghaire to melt into a puddle of self-pitying tears.

On to Chapter 9 : Better to Marry than Burn Jamie had to feed his hunger somewhere...

#Jamie fraser #Laoghaire MacKenzie #CanonCompliant #Why did Jamie marry Laoghaire?#Why did their marriage fall apart?#Outlander fanfic #BetweenSceneswriter

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drunklander · 6 years

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Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 309

*puts Lonely Island on repeat* Shipnanigans are here!

I was originally kind of not looking forward to the second half of the season because this part of Voyager is absolutely batshit bananas. But then I was wicked underwhelmed by the part of the season I thought I would love.

So fuck it. Bring on the ridiculousness.

I like this episode. But only if I try to watch it pretending like the first part of the season didn’t happen... Because if I watch it with the other episodes in mind, I just get mildly ragey that we skip over the important emotional work Jamie and Claire still have to do in favor of fluff followed by another separation. And yeah, I love fluff. I love secksi times. I love Fraser snuggles. But the jump from the end of ep. 308 to the start of ep. 309 leaves me salty that we’re yet again asked to headcanon the reconciliation between Jamie and Claire. *side eyes the similar jump between ep. 207 and ep. 208* Whatever.

Get your towels ready it's about to go down. Everybody in the place hit the fuckin’ deck. But stay on your motherfuckin’ toes. We runnin’ this, let's go.

New credits! And the title card... Take a good hard look at the motherfuckin’ boat.

Ok this opening bit. Like Jamie was an asshole for the last two episodes. Claire never actually got to tell her side of things. She basically was like nope, I don’t think I even want to be here. But now it’s like all good, she’ll go on this 18th century sea voyage to find Jamie’s nephew. For real? They couldn’t have made a handful of tweaks last week and the beginning of this week so she could say she was going because she wanted to be with Jamie and keep working on their relationship? And Jamie’s apparently never going to apologize for being a massive piece of shit toward her? They do a good job over the course of the episode of showing them together but still with the insecurities and stuff, but jumping from where they were on the cliff to where they are in this episode makes me side eye the show like whoa.

And yes, I know that she’s really going on the ship because she wants to try to make it work with Jamie, but geez, let her say that. Let her tell him that he’s been a dick to her but she knows he has it in him to be not-shitty and she’s going because she thinks he can be better than he is in the last couple episodes. I don’t know why it bothers me so much when they make us fill in the blanks ourselves on stuff that seems definitely important enough to actually show. And then make it seem like we’re dumb or bad fans or something for wanting to actually see things instead of just headcanoning them in, because that’s how this production team rolls.

Replacement Rupert and Angus just aren’t the same as the originals. Like no one can replace Rupert and Angus, but like, I can’t bring myself to give a crap about these randos?

For real though, Claire’s inner monologue is probs like yeah, never thought I'd be on a boat. It's a big blue watery road...

And I get her 20th century scoffing at superstition, but like, girl. You’ve been in trouble for being a “witch” enough times now that c’mon. Don’t act like you don’t understand what’s going on with the sailors.

Marsali is my everything. I love her. I love her so much.

As much as I want Jamie to stand up for Claire, I do like that Fergus does it. Because Jamie, my dude, you deserve everything Marsali’s throwing at you.

Claire’s “No. You don’t.” as she drags Jamie away is also my everything.

Oh hey, a trunk of clothes! Got some swim trunks, and some flippie-floppies. But not a nautical themed pashmina afghan in sight. Welp. Can’t have everything.

I know it’s supposed to be sweet that Jamie wouldn’t let anyone get rid of Claire’s clothes. And a nice inverse to Frank burning her clothes. But I’m still just kind of chuckling because it’s not like he ever saw them? What with him living in a cave and then prison and then Helwater and then with Laoghaire. But whatever.

“Would you care to dine with me this evening? We drinking Santana champ, cause it's so crisp.” This captain is seriously the human equivalent of ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Like dude. You’re the captain of the ship and you’re just like welp. Can’t do anything about the men. They’ll do what they’re gonna do. It’s not like I’m the one in the position of authority or anything.

High fives to Fergus for calling Jamie on his bullshit revisionist history.

Although it’s kinda icky that Jamie knows all of the girls who Fergus has banged? And also fuck him for being super chill about Fergus banging tons of girls but so fucking uptight about Marsali and Bree. I know, I know, it’s a different time. That doesn’t make him not a hypocrite though.

Slash Jamie’s the last person who should be lecturing *anyone* about the importance of honesty right now. But whatever. No real consequences for lying soooo... *pretends the last few eps haven’t happened*

Yi Tien Cho convincing Jamie to do acupuncture is also my everything. Seriously, I know I had a *rull* low bar for how that character was going to be changed, but I’m really, really loving him.

I for real can’t wait for more of Claire and Marsali. Like yeah, Jamie’s marital status *was* Claire’s business, and Jamie hadn’t been living with Laoghaire and the girls for ages so Claire also wasn’t really breaking up a family or anything, but I really like that Claire just lets Marsali’s comment slide. Like call Jamie out on all of his bullshit, please, but Marsali’s a teenager whose life was thrown through a loop and I feel like trying to talk to her when she’s in this kind of mood isn’t going to get anywhere. So by just being like “well the whore should get the bigger bed, shouldn’t she” it’s like telling Marsali that she’s not going to be cowed by the snark and also that she doesn’t need to justify her place in Jamie’s life to a rando. Like she’s not going to concede power by trying to explain herself to Marsali.

But for real, I love Marsali.

I honestly don’t get Jamie’s aversion to Fergus and Marsali though. Like they’re not making the age difference a thing in the show. And Jenny’s fucking kids have apparently been married and spitting out babies since they hit puberty. Like I get it makes for some tension with Laoghaire, but who gives a fuck? She hates them all already?

Claire and Yi Tien Cho are my favorite pair that I was not expecting to like so much. But like her being genuinely interested in his story and him being open with her, which is probably the first time he’s gotten to talk like that with anyone since he got to Scotland, is so great.

Oh. Another VO. Cool. It’s basically like I'm on a boat motherfucker take a look at me. Straight flowin’ on a boat on the deep blue sea. Bustin’ five knots, wind whippin’ out my coat. You can't stop me motherfucker cause I'm on a boat.

Ok this insecurity in Jamie about hurting Claire’s feelings about the tea and acupuncture is adorable. Asshole Jamie’s insecurity of the past few episodes wasn’t. He was just an asshole.

And also, broseph, this is the kind of secret it’s ok to keep. Small, insignificant, adorable. The other one, not so much.

“My return has been confusing and frustrating. But it’s never been a question of whether I love you.” Confusing and frustrating is putting it a bit mildly, Claire, but apparently we’re done having real talk and Jamie doesn’t have to own up to being a fuckwad. Bqhatevwr. (Don’t get me wrong, I’m 1000% here for the fluff in this episode. I just have to pretend they actually did more of the hard convos in order to get to where they can have the fluff again.) And I’m pretty sure it *literally was* a question of whether you loved this Jamie, Claire. We all know you loved the old Jamie. But like, the whole thing on the cliff was literally about whether you loved the new Jamie. Y’know. The thing they never bothered addressing beyond the question being asked. Because lol nothing matters, fans can headcanon it and if they don’t they’re whiny and #badfans.

Whatever. *actively doesn’t think about past episodes* Here for pincushion heart eyes. Lookit how cute they are.

Cause of death: Claire telling Jamie about reading Bree Goodnight Moon.

And I love them talking about the moon like with the science of men flying there and the folk tales of the man in the moon representing each of them. They’re gonna fly this boat to the moon somehow. Like Kevin Garnett, anything is possible.

“You miss her.” “Terribly.” Glad they’re highlighting Claire still feeling the loss of what she gave up to come back to Jamie. Still salty at his non-reaction to learning about his kid. And even here, like one line from him about Bree to let Claire know he loves her too? Or thinks about her too? To let Claire know she’s not alone in missing Bree? Please? No? Ok.

Here for the cuddles. I want the fluff. Believe me, I am trash for the fluff. I just wish again that the fluff felt more earned because they’d actually come to an understanding about where they stand with each other rather than just glossing over the hard part of coming back together. They showed the angsty set up then skipped the resolution and went straight to the fluff.

Whatever. Back to pretending the last few eps didn’t happen. Give me all the fluff. It’s fucking wonderful. I love fluff. I am a broken record.

I feel like the gif of Claire saying “that’s insanity” is going to come in quite handy...

Jamie going to save his dude like fuck land, I'm on a boat, motherfucker. Fuck trees, I climb buoys, motherfucker. I'm on the deck with my boys, motherfucker. And no one is gonna mess with his Ardsmuir boys.

Really reaching to fit some of these lyrics in and I’m not at all sorry.

The way they chant Jonah is def the angry mob way to chant it, but in my head I def kept being like Jo! Nah! Jo! Nah!. Like pumping someone up at a sports thing or something. You’re doing it wrong, brain.

I have a lot of feelings about Yi Tien Cho giving up his story and letting it go before he wanted to in order to save Jamie and his men. Yi Tien Cho really is the best of them.

And honestly Jamie telling the captain to let YTC speak is maybe the most decent thing he’s ever done for the man.

And then the papers fly off in the wind and I realize that I give not a single fuck about the actual plot of this episode.

But Claire saying thank you to Yi Tien Cho is so much more than just thank you for quelling the fight. Like this guy just told the story of his life, of where he’s from, and now he needs to give it up. And she recognizes and respects and appreciates what it’ll cost him to give it up since she too is from a place the fuckers on the ship couldn’t possibly understand. And he did it for this group who, as he so passionately said, thinks the worst of him. I have so many feelings about Claire and Yi Tien Cho, guys.

They kept in the ship quickie! I def thought they were going to cut it! Bless them for keeping it. Blesss. Same feelings about the rest of the fluff still apply, but this show is probs always going to pull stuff like this so I clearly just need to get over it and accept the fluff I’m given like a #goodfan.

Jamie’s like believe me when I say, I fucked a mermaid.

(I swear, I *hated* the line last week when Jamie said Jenny would sooner believe Claire was a mermaid than from the future, but at least it means the most ridic lyric in the fucking song fits perfectly.)

And Jamie being cute about Claire’s hair. Awww.

I hate the king of men line. Hate it. Hate that the production is so fixated on that. And that they think it’s cute to keep including their weird in-jokes in the show itself.

But whatever. Snuggle time! Yay for snuggles! Embrace the fluff! Forget your issues with the show! Stop being a sourpuss!

Oh snap, the British are coming! Never thought they’d see the day, when a big boat comin’ their way.

RIP Lt. Babyface. Long live Capt. Babyface!

Yay for Claire telling Jamie about her oath. And yay for Jamie actually getting it and respecting what she needs to do. It’s like ep. 306 Jamie again with the whole respecting Claire’s calling thing. So like, we should just ignore ep. 307 Jamie? Because he was an asshole about it.

Oh man, next week is gonna be rough, isn’t it. *All* the puking. This ain't Seaworld, this is real as it gets.

For real though if the puking noises next week are like the brothel noises in ep. 306, I’m going to just watch on mute or something with the closed captions because it’s over the top, show.

Ok if Thomas Leonard is Capt. Babyface, I guess that makes Elias Pound Midshipman Fetus.

Oh man the cook being all like I'm flippin’ burgers, you at Kinko's straight flippin’ copies. Don’t fuck with Claire when she’s in Dr. Claire mode, my dude. You will not win that fight.

Yeah. If I pretend like this episode is the first one of the season, I like this episode. I’m kind of pissed that the show managed to make me salty about fluff. I love fluff, why you make me salty about fluff, show? And now I just want a goddamn fluffernutter.

And since I’m ignoring everything that could have been up until now, it doesn’t bug me that Jamie and Claire are separated...again. Because lol nothing matters.

Fucking give me all the badass Dr. Claire you have, show.

She’s on a boat motherfucker, don't you ever forget.

#*#drunj!der yells about outlander #outlander starz #outlander 3x09

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crossinginstyle · 6 years

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3.09 The Doldrums

I guess I'm in the minority here when I say I think the new title sequence is weird lol 😂 I mean, I still gasped audibly when I heard the drums, and I like the new scenes but I feel like they didn't flow as prettily as the previous title sequences. And the Jungle Rhythm Skye Boat Song honestly made me laugh lol. BUT I still love it. Still my favorite title sequence and theme song of any show ever.

As for the episode itself I LOVE IT SO SO MUCH ITS TOO MUCH TO EXPLAIN IN ONE TEXT POST

All of the lovie dovie-ness between Jamie and Claire

They're just so sweet and intimate and support of each other and worried about wee Ian and I can't!!!

Marsali's little head tilt when she was mouthing off to Jamie was the BEST. She's really growing on me. She has just enough of Leghair's bitchiness to be amusing, but is clearly not her mother. And I know some people have complained about Jamie not reprimanding her for calling Claire a whore but I'm glad it was Fergus who did so. It helped as a reminder that Fergus loves Claire as a mother, and if Marsali wants to be with him she needs to show Claire a modicum of respect at least. I wish we could have had more between Claire and Marsali in their adventures in bunking together, but the tidbit we did get was cute. I like how Claire genuinely doesn't seem to be holding Marsali's parentage against her. In fact she seems to have very little opinion of her at all at first, which is perfect. I really enjoyed Marsali's looks toward Claire when she was trying to speak in support of them to Jamie.

Ok but back to the important people. Jamie being afraid of hurting Claire's feelings with the acupuncture was so SWEET. And also sad. He's just SO afraid of losing her, and even though it's obviously a silly thing to worry about, you can't help but empathize with his desperation.

The conversation. About. The moon.

I love every time Claire tells him stories about her time. He can barely comprehend any of it, but you can tell he loves hearing about it. (When does Claire tell him about Joe? Is it even in the books?) and then we drift into memories of Bree and the fucking pain on Claire's face 😭😭 I can't wait for their reunion.

Wow holy fuck the sex scene. From the very beginning when I saw the ratings warning for "strong sexual content" I was like FFFFUUUCK YES and ugh it was so beautiful!!!! Claire's giggle was adorable but wtf girl, you're louder than he is!!! Their post-coital cuddling was everything. He's so in love with her hair, no matter the color lol. And then they threw in that king of men thing lmao. I actually really like Claire's wig. I mean I do wish they'd done extensions instead, it looks really good on her. Jamie's wig...not so much. But whatever lol.

Willoughby's story was STUNNING!!! All the awards for this actor. I mean DAMN. I was equally as enthralled as the crew!!!! A long monologue like that can so easily become boring but wow. I had chills. And then when he started talking about women and Claire and Jamie were like

And finally when Claire decides to go aboard the Porpoise and Jamie (with very good reason I might add) tries to talk her out of it. But when he sees there's no use, instead of upset he just smiles like "yeah. That's my woman. She's terrifying but fuck I love her. That's honestly my favorite part of their relationship. Where Frank accepted her love of being a doctor, Jamie REVELS in it. Yes it scares him at times, he doesn't always understand, and I'm sure he sometimes wishes she wasn't quite SO reckless, but he genuinely loves her for it, and would never ask her to be anything less than what she is. And then the end. Ugh. Is it next week yet?!?? I can't believe we only have 4 episodes left before Droughtlander. I can't stand it!!!

#outlander spoilers #thoughts #3.09 #the doldrums #jamie x claire

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sueboohscorner · 6 years

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OUTLANDER S3 Ep 11 : "Uncharted" .....New version of Survivor

FIrst....Diana Gabaldon wrote about a short bit about a man on a tropical island that talked to a Coconut named "Coco" LONG before Tom Hanks had Wilson to keep him company. Just an FYI.

So, Claire jumped ship and the water was supposed to carry her to the Grand Turks where she could get a ship to Jamaica. That is not what happened. Claire floats for god knows how long and then sees land and barely makes it to the beach.

The next 12 minutes is her drying her clothes, walking through the middle of the jungle, getting eaten alive by fire ants, having a boa constrictor slithering over her when she wakes up one morning, and basically trying to find water and survive. In my opinion, 10 minutes too long, especially since there WAS a HURRICANE in the books which we did not get to experience. I mean Claire hanging in a mangrove holding onto a tree for dear life in dangerously high winds is much more exciting to me.

Nevertheless, she passes out as she just starts to hear a voice and a dog barking. She wakes up sometime later, convinced she is dying and trying to figure out where she is and then realizes she is tied to the bed hand and foot with a nice glass of water nearby.

A woman comes in with a poor bedside manner in my opinion and gives Claire the water, but nearly drowns her in doing so. She tells Claire in Spanish that she is tied up for her own good. Claire passes back out.

She wakes up again, some time later, and there is a man sitting on the side of her bed and announces to "Mamacita" that their guest is awake at last. He unties Claire and hands her some water and introduces himself as Father Fogden and asks how she got there. Claire asks where "here" is and the Father is very pleased to hear she is English. The Father tells her she is on the island of Sam Domingue, three days from Jamaica. He is shocked to hear that she not only jumped off a ship into the ocean, but is also a doctor. "It is much more common in the colonies" she tells him lamely.

Claire learns there is a small village on the other side of the island, a days walk from there. She could get a boat to the next island over and then to Jamaica. She is eager to go but the Father says that it is not a good idea in her condition and this is where he gets even weirder....consults with "Coco" his coconut friend for advice. Oooooookaaaay then. The Father asks Mamacitia if they have any clothing for Claire, perhaps one of Ermengilda's, but Mamacita says no in a big way and calls Claire a whore really not worthy of the clothing. Mamacita takes Claire out back and gives her a towel with some soap and a robe. She can take a bath and she relishes in it.

Back inside, Claire is seated to dinner with Mamacita and the Father. He tells his story of being a missionary in Cuba and fell deeply in love with a woman there....Ermengilda. She returned his affections, which surprised him. However, she was already married to a powerful and dangerous man named Don Hernando and the Father, being a priest is never supposed to become involved with a woman, especially a married one. So the couple fled together and ended up on the island where they are now. However, shortly after arriving, Ermengilda became sick and died. She was Mamacita's only child and is convinced that this "whore" is here to take her daughter's place. Claire says she wishes to depart as soon as possible. Of course, Mamacita is more than happy with that plan. Father Fogden and Mamacita start to argue and Claire excuses herself and sits down the hall next to a room and sees a beautiful dress hanging. Just then, the Father comes and tells her that it was his Ermengilda's dress.

Claire listens to the Father talk about this woman he loved. He turns to Claire and says, “When you loved someone as much as I loved Ermenegilda, it never leaves you." . He looks at Claire and having heard her tale of woe about Jamie, he understands. “You have loved someone so much that you would risk everything for them,” he says. Ummmm.....yeah.....that is why I am trying to leave NOW.

The only one left to convince is Coco to which Claire makes a brave, albeit lame attempt at having a conversation with the coconut when she hears the Father approaching. However, we don't know if this would have worked, because Mamacita starts screaming for the Father.

When the Father and Claire arrive outside, Mamacita says that a "China man" killed and ate Arabella, their favorite goat. She hands the Father the skinned head which he gently puts on top of a barrel and grabs a jar and dumps some flesh eating beetles on top. “Voracious little fellows,” he says to Claire, “from a cave called Abandawe." Claire immediately gets a flashback of Margaret Campbell in Edinburgh warning her about that cave. I just call it the "other" stone circle. Yes, people.....there is more than one worldwide and there is usually stone involved, but not always a standing stone circle. The Father says that it is highly regarded as a place of great power by the locals and that there is a history of people "just appearing there". Hmmmmmm.

Claire asks for more information when she hears the work "China man" again. Could it be? She is told that there are sailors on the beach as some damage was done to their ship. Claire is pointed in the proper direction and she takes off running.

Meanwhile, we finally see Jamie, sitting on the beach. Apparently some strong winds (again....HURRICANE people...it IS hurricane season the same time every year) came along and they lost several crew members, like Captain Raines and Mr. Murphy (the cook). They are busy trying to fix their mast and sails. Marsali is even asked to help as she is good with a needle and thread.

Claire, running as fast as her feet can run through the jungle, convinced that it is Jamie (hey...it COULD be the same ship you jumped off of...but okay). There is a montage of men working to get things fixed and picked up and Claire running. Question becomes, will she make it on time? She cuts open her arm pretty good on the way through, but manages to keep going. When she finally arrives on the beach, she sees the Artemis out in the ocean. The ship hasn't left yet, thank goodness, but they are too far away to hear her screaming. They are not ready to sail just yet, they are still adding the finishing touches to their repairs.

Claire had pocketed a small mirror earlier at dinner time when she went to sit by herself. She thinks of it now and uses it as a beacon which catches Jamie's eye. When Jamie looks through the spyglass and sees his beloved Claire there, the next thing we see is Claire running toward the beach and small boat arriving at the beach, but Jamie is already out and running towards Claire.

A beautiful reunion moment, where Jamie tells her he thought he lost her again and he thanks God that they have found each other. Kissing of course comes with this.

A little later, Jamie and Claire are talking and Jamie confesses he has given his blessing to Fergus and Marsali to be married. He has seen that Fergus loves Marsali like he loves Claire. He thinks it a good idea to have a wedding as a way of lifting the mood of the men and a celebration (they found each other again!). Claire just happens to know of someone who could help out in that area. Oh, and Mr. Willoughby stitches up Claire and she approves of his work.

Back at the "ranch", Marsali is trying to get herself ready for her wedding. She is having difficulties with her corset and Claire comes to help her. She asks Claire if she knows of a way to prevent pregnancy. Claire asks why a young girl like Marsali would not be pleased to start a family right away. First, Marsali says she just wants to have her and Fergus time to enjoy each other (very future modern of her). She then confesses that when Jamie would pull her mother close, her mom would shrink back. But, she sees Jamie with Claire and it is different. Claire loves the touching, etc. Claire admits she does and as she finishes up the corset on Marsali, tells her once they are back on the boat, she will tell her how it is done.

Marsali is pleased that there is actually a way and that maybe Claire is not the devil after all. Gee....thanks girl.

The wedding happens....well....for the most part. LOL! Father Fogden is high, crazy and possibly drunk (but there was none of the famous drink in the show). He turns to the wrong man and asks him if he chooses to marry this woman and the poor man says no and points to Fergus. The Father asks if he is sure as this "one" only has one hand a “I suppose it’s fine unless he’s missing his cock. He isn’t, is he?” asks the priest. To which Marsali responds, saucily, “I could tell you if you’d up and get on with it.” Marsali is getting impatient and speaks her mind a few times. When it comes to Fergus's turn, the Father asks his WHOLE name. Fergus tells him that Fergus is his name.

Jamie speaks up that his name is Fergus Claudel FRASER. Fergus is more than pleased.

Back on the ship, we don't get to see Fergus and Marsali, but we get our Turtle Soup scene, although it isn't quite as good as the book version IMO. Claire is slurping up soup and telling Jamie how good it is. She is obvious drunk (from the soup) and Jamie also sees she is burning up of fever.

She tries to get him to help her inject her with the penicillin. Jamie gets close, but can't do the final deed of stabbing her with it. Claire does it herself. She comes on strong to Jamie and tells him to bolt the door as she is climbing over the table to him.

Jamie thinks it is wrong to take advantage of a woman who is drunk and feverish. Claire disagrees and says she is not drunk. What follows is a hot sex scene (they finally do it like "horses" like Jamie thought on the wedding night), but Mr. Willoughby knocks to see how "first wife" likes the soup and if she wants anymore. Jamie is trying his best to do his deed, and keep his wife quite but she isn't that easy to handle. Mr. Willoughby gets the message when he hears a couple of sounds and walks away.

That is a great way to end an episode. At least this week, they are together and not in danger. However, we still have Jamaica and for one, I am NOT happy they chose to do it in only two episodes. Jamaica is almost HALF of the freaking book and quite a bit happens while they are there. Well, I guess we will see.

What are your thoughts or opinions on this episode? I give it a FOUR as they once again spent too much time on something where they could put something they are leaving out IN.

#Outlander Season 3 #Outlander #Outlander Starz #Outlander (TV series)#Jamie Fraser #Claire Fraser #Fergus Fraser #Marsali #Wedding #Sam Heughan #Caitriona Balfe #Cesar Domboy #Lauren Lyle #Father Fogden #Mamacita

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

Text

A cringe worthy request. Haha! I hope someone does this though: Maybe a moment during their marriage (after making love, perhaps?) when Laoghaire realizes that Jamie will never look and love her the way he does for Claire. What would be her realizations? Maybe a comparison of how Jamie treats her during their union vs Jamie’s union with Claire? :)

For this prompt I thought it would be fitting to revisit one of my older fics. This is set in the Wounded Pride AU and is basically just Laoghaire’s perspective as the early events of that fic unfold.

– Mod Lenny

Wounded Pride: Part One, Part Two

If she’d had any doubts remaining, listening to him as he told her to leave, to go home––to go home so he could go back to that witch and explain, as if she didn’t deserve an explanation too––watching him turn his back on her and walk back to the house, his shirt askew and his breeks barely buttoned, had settled her opinion.

Jamie Fraser was a coward.

Laoghaire stomped around Balriggan fighting the impulse to throw something or break the furniture. None of that would do her any good; they were her things, not Jamie’s. She wanted to break something that belonged to him, wanted him to feel the hurt and anger she felt.

What had happened to the gallant young man who’d stood up for her in Leoch and taken a beating meant for her? He’d been meant for so much more than what he’d become and so had she. If he’d married her then, before that witch interfered, both their lives would have been better. He’d have become laird of the MacKenzies, she was sure of it; so many had lamented him throwing himself away on a Sassenach wench.

And she’d been married off to her father’s choice, though at the time, she hadn’t cared. Nothing mattered during that time when Jamie had been lost to her.

Laoghaire thought that they’d been given a second chance when Jenny Murray had invited her to Hogmanay and Jamie had been standing there… like he was waiting for her. Feeling his hands on her waist while they danced, seeing him smile and hearing him laugh… She’d been so sure. She knew that the war had changed him––it had changed a good many men––but he hadn’t been so bad as others and it all seemed well enough at first.

But he was a coward. Not the same kind of coward her second husband had been, but it turned out he was a coward all the same.

She should have seen it when he’d left for Edinburgh, when he couldn’t bring himself to look at her anymore. Why hadn’t she seen it?

Light reflecting in the looking glass on the wall near her bed blinded her momentarily. She shifted her position so her head blocked the source of light at the window behind her. It caught her hair––still fair though her blonde locks were bleaching closer and closer to the dull white of old age––and lent her an angelic glow. She was a little thicker than she’d been in her youth, her curves more pronounced and soft, but she could still see the lovely lass she had been when she first loved Jamie Fraser.

That was it, really. She loved Jamie, even if he was a coward. Her love for him had blinded her to his flaws… but that didn’t mean she didn’t still want him. There had to be a way to fix him, to help him find his way back to the man he’d been when she first loved him.

And she was damned if she’d let that witch take him from her a second time.

She strode through the room to the front entryway calling for the girls.

“Marsali, Joanie, fetch yer cloaks back on,” she told them. She had to get a stool to stand on to reach the place behind a supporting beam where she’d hidden the pistol Jamie left her before heading to Edinburgh. It was heavy in her hand as she checked it over. He said he’d loaded it for her so all she had to do was cock the hammer back and fire.

She didn’t think it would be necessary but where that witch Claire was involved, it was better to be prepared. All she needed was to talk with Jamie and having this would ensure he listened to her. Once she reminded him of what he owed to her and the girls, he would come back to her and this time things between them would be different.

The walk back to Lallybroch didn’t seem to take as long or maybe it was the sense of purpose she felt driving her forward.

She spotted Ian in the distance as she approached and watched him turn away. As she and the girls finally reached the yard, Jamie was striding toward her with Claire, Jenny, and that whore’s son, Fergus trailing behind him.

With the gun clutched tight in her hand and hidden by her skirts, she stood her ground as Jamie’s angry voice reached her.

“Did I no tell ye to go on back to Balriggan?”

“Aye, ye did and so I went—as a good and obedient wife should—but ye said nothing of coming back again, now did ye.”

She knew she needed to send the girls off, to get the others to go back in the house and let her and Jamie talk things through on their own. However the sight of Claire standing just a few feet away had her palms sweating against the smooth wood of the pistol’s grip. Had she no shame? After having been caught in such a state, how could she bring herself to face any of them? And given the fury she’d heard from outside as Jamie went back inside to placate her, why was she even here?

The name of Ned Gowan jolted her back to focus. He was going to set her aside, to pretend that everything between them had never happened.

“Ye intend to shame me then. Ye intend to abandon me and leave my bairns to starve while ye take up wi’ yer whore again.”

Jamie’s rage soon brought him right to her face. It was the closest he’d been to her in months. She could feel the heat of him but it wasn’t the sheltering warmth she’d once imagined it to be. He burned as though he would consume her and leave her a pile of ash to be blown away, to vanish on the wind.

“Ye’ll no talk of Claire like that—not afore me. I’ve no intention of letting anyone starve but I’ll no have ye disrespecting Claire like that. Ye kent well how I felt when we wed—”

“I did not!” she exclaimed, her anger mingling with an ache in her chest. She didn’t want either of them to see her cry but especially not the witch. “I needed a man, it’s true, but I believed ye loved me as I love you. Aye, I do still love ye, James Fraser—though I dare say ye dinna deserve it,” she snapped.

“Ye may be right. I likely dinna deserve it,” he confessed. “From you or from Claire. But from you, at least, I never sought it nor do I want it now.”

It felt as though she’d been slapped right down to the stinging and watering of her eyes. Her grip on the pistol tightened and her finger slipped to the trigger, her thumb resting on the hammer.

He was a coward. He was standing there making excuses, saying he would do the honorable thing for her girls and acting like that would be enough. If he had any real honor…

“The honorable thing? Ye mean to do the honorable thing? Ye wouldna ken the honorable thing if it smacked ye in the face. Ye mean to choose that woman when she’s no children to provide for, no property to tend, while I have both—”

“She may no need me… but I need her.” He glanced over his shoulder at Claire.

Laoghaire was back at Leoch watching the pair of them together in the hall after they’d returned from collecting the Laird’s rents and announced they were married, watching Claire lean against Jamie’s shoulder as the bard played. Laoghaire was watching from the kitchen window as they laughed returning from the stables for dinner, Jamie’s arm around Claire’s shoulder and hers wrapped around his waist. Laoghaire was listening to one of the kitchen maids whose sister had been at the trial in Cransmuir and had seen Jamie force his way through the crowd to stand between Claire and her accusers, vanishing with her in the chaos and never returning to Leoch. Laoghaire was smiling as Jenny brought Jamie around the edge of the dancers to introduce them and remind Jamie that Laoghaire had been a friend of Claire’s back at Leoch. Laoghaire was holding Jamie’s hands as they stood with the priest only to hear Jenny gasp and murmur a quiet prayer before the ceremony was finished. Laoghaire was lying as still as she could beside Jamie so he wouldn’t know she was awake and could hear him whimpering Claire’s name into the pillow. Laoghaire was watching Jamie ride away with everything he’d need for Edinburgh in his saddlebags and a hollow promise that he would return to check on them as soon as he was settled. Laoghaire was standing in the doorway staring at a naked Claire writhing and panting in bed, her legs draped over the shoulders of Jamie’s equally naked and aroused body so that only the flaming tendrils of his hair were visible from between her thighs.

Laoghaire cocked the hammer and raised the pistol, aiming for Jamie’s fiery hair.

#;mod lenny #submission #blackwisteria #wounded pride au #featuring: laoghaire #canon divergence #alternate universe

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marril96 · 5 years

Text

The Distance Between Us

Chapter 12: Rebel with a Cause

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Rowena has some new resolutions.

Editor: @cherrypierowena

Rowena had spent the weekend locked up in her room.

Her absence to gatherings had been noticed. Her phone was littered with calls and messages, all unanswered, ignored.

To hell with them all. With her friends who felt more like accessories than actual friends — or rather, she was their accessory, there to look pretty and smile and laugh as they walked the school's halls as if they owned them and everyone in them, as if they were above the rules and laws. With Lucifer, who'd only sent one message, telling her he missed her.

Missed fucking her, most likely, because she was beginning to think he didn't care about her. Not in a way a boyfriend should.

Her cheek was still red Monday morning, and it took her half an hour to cover the rawness of her skin and make the color look somewhat natural. She was pleased with her work, first thing she'd been proud of in days; makeup was just one of her many talents.

A good boyfriend wouldn't do that to her. He wouldn't push her against the wall, or choke her, or get in her face and yell at the top of his lungs just because she made him mad. Wouldn't leave marks all over her body as a reminder of the encounters, a lesson to choose her words carefully next time lest she wanted a rerun. Wouldn't demand things she wasn't comfortable with, or leave after fucking her without a single word as if she were a toy to be discarded after growing bored of it.

He was using her. Rowena was well aware of that. She was beautiful and excellent in bed, exactly what he liked. She didn't protest much, instead let him take what he wanted, what he needed, whenever he wished. He didn't even have to ask. She — her body, her heart, her mind — was his to do with as he pleased.

But then, she was using him, too. Without him, she didn't have much. She barely had Olivette all on her own. Being with Lucifer brought her so much attention, so much power she'd been dreaming of for ages.

They were a match made in hell. Perfect for each other.

Lucifer may have been hurting her, but Rowena wasn't an angel, either. She talked too much. She was mouthy. Disrespectful. Annoying. After everything he'd done for her, everything being with him had given her, she should have been more grateful.

But, even as the truth of it sank in, she couldn't.

In her almost four years of high school, she'd done everything that was expected of her. She'd followed the unwritten rules to the letter. Kept her head down. Laughed at her peers' humiliation. Snorted at nasty remarks. Helped spread rumors she knew for a fact were nonsense Olivette made up out of nothing but malice and sheer boredom. Never uttered a word of complaint about any of it.

Olivette and her posse, and, by extension, Lucifer led. Rowena followed like a faithful puppy.

Why?

Why did she do that to herself?

Why did she let herself sink that low?

Well, she knew why. But still… Even knowing the root of the problem couldn't explain the depth of the shit she'd buried herself in.

The truth was, she hated it. She hated all of it. Hated bullying. Taking advantage. Standing aside and laughing as it happened.

Even if it was for her own survival, she hated it.

She hated Olivette.

And, most of all, she hated Lucifer.

There.

She admitted it, and she found herself letting out a breath she'd unknowingly been holding.

She hated Lucifer. Loathed him from the depths of her soul. Her body burned with the intensity of the feeling. He was a vile person, a, dare she say it, monster. An abomination.

But, despite it all, she needed him. And she hated herself more than anything, more than anyone, for it.

Without him and Olivette, she had nothing. She was that pale wee girl that smelled of filth, that other kids pointed and laughed at. The girl boys touched without permission and girls called a whore amidst giggles. The girl taken advantage of and thrown away like trash.

The girl she'd left in Scotland.

Never again.

The memory sent a jolt of pain through Rowena as she walked the busy streets. She kept her head high, kept emotion far away from her face, replacing it with a look of coldness. She ignored the other school kids, ignored the random passersby. Ignored the ache that ripped into her heart like claws.

She had school to get to.

School that wasn't like the one in Scotland.

In this school, she was somebody. So what if her friends were mean to her? So what if her boyfriend roughed her up?

She'd raised to the top with her own hard work and dedication. It wasn't perfect, but it was still an accomplishment. A grand one.

And yet…

This wasn't what she'd signed up for.

She thought being on top meant doing whatever she wanted without consequences. Living the high life without worrying for the rules of society.

Instead, she was met with other, more restrictive rules to follow.

She liked hanging out with you. In all her years here, in America, in this school, you were the first person she truly, genuinely looked forward to seeing. You had no demands. Made no comments on her looks, or her behavior, or things that were out of her control. You didn't order her around or call her names when she made mistakes.

You let her be herself.

The tutoring was arranged, strictly business, but, despite her initial skepticism, it was nice. Pleasant.

Freeing.

For the first time in ages, she didn't have to pretend to be someone she wasn't. She could be smart and share her knowledge with someone who needed it. She could laugh at jokes that weren't mean, that didn't make someone cry.

And what did Rowena do?

She chased you away. She was rude and sent you running — or rather, ran away herself — and ruined everything.

All because you'd shown concern for her wellbeing.

Nice going, Rowena, she told herself.

She was supposed to tutor you yesterday, but you hadn't shown up. Hadn't even left a message to let her know you wouldn't be there.

After the way she'd acted the last time she'd seen you, she couldn't blame you.

A stubborn part of her resented you for not trying harder, for not reaching out. But she knew in her heart that wasn't how things worked. She was the one in the wrong here. She was the one who'd snapped and left without a parting glance.

And, as such, she had the responsibility to make it right.

She found you in the schoolyard as soon as she stepped in. You were alone, leaning against a tree, eyes glued to your phone. Waiting for your friends to join you.

Should she go over and let you know Fergus was still sleeping and would most likely miss the first two periods? Or would that be too awkward?

Should she talk to you at all?

Olivette was standing by the entrance, engaged in a conversation with the three girls that followed her around; her posse that Rowena called friends despite not really knowing them, Olivette's little carbon copies. Lucifer stood beside them, laughing at whatever it was they were saying. His face was lit up, eyes sparkling with joy, every fit of laughter hearty, genuine.

As if Friday night hadn't happened.

So much for missing her.

Their heads suddenly turned to her as they took notice of her arrival. Olivette beckoned for her to come over as if she were a dog expected to follow every order.

Anger flared inside Rowena, swallowed her up like lava.

She wasn't their dog.

She wasn't their bitch.

They didn't get to tell her what to do.

With a sudden burst of confidence, she strutted over to you and said, "Hey."

"Hey," you said, not looking up from your phone. Barely acknowledging her presence.

Ouch.

She supposed she deserved that.

"Would you like to study today?"

"No, thanks," you replied nonchalantly. "I'd rather 'mind my bloody business.'"

Rowena sighed. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

You finally spared her a glance. Cocked up a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"I had things going on."

Not that she owed you an explanation.

Or maybe she did. Half of one, at least.

You snorted. "Right."

She rolled her eyes, growing frustrated. "Look, you can either sulk like a brat or get over it. I'm not going to beg on my knees."

"You sure know how to apologize," you said, an amused grin spreading over your mouth.

"I'm not apologizing."

She hadn't said she was sorry in years, and she wasn't about to start. Not with you. No matter how guilty she felt.

"Trust me, I can tell," you snarked.

She groaned irritably. "Do you want to study or not?"

You snorted. Thought it over. "Sure." Sarcastically, you added, "Since you're asking so nicely."

Rowena pulled on her sugar-sweet smile. "Great. Biggerson's?"

You looked at her as if she'd suddenly grown a second head. "You wanna study at Biggerson's?"

"Why not?"

"Won't your friends complain?"

They would.

She didn't give a damn.

For the first time in ages, she didn't give a damn what they thought.

"Won't yours?" she retorted.

"I can handle mine."

"As can I."

You eyed her, not quite buying it. "Okay, I'll bite. Meet me here after school. We'll go together. Unless there's some rule against a girl like you leaving with a girl like me."

There most certainly was, but, feeling rebellious, Rowena didn't care.

"Works for me."

Lucifer and Olivette were staring, faces creased with confusion, sprayed with disapproval.

Good.

Let them wonder.

Let them pretend they cared.

Rowena MacLeod was nobody's fool.

She would do what she wanted. Hang out with whom she wanted.

If they were her friends, if they truly cared about her, they would support her.

If not…

Well, good riddance.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @gaysnakess @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @tasyahilker @a-queen-and-her-throne

#rowena #rowena macleod #rowena x reader #spn #supernatural #spn family #my fics #fanfiction #high school au

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marril96 · 5 years

Text

The Distance Between Us

Chapter 13: One Girl Revolution

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: You get new realizations, and Rowena makes old decisions.

Editor: @cherrypierowena

Rowena was strangely chill with you at Biggerson's. She ordered her tea and instantly got down to business as if you weren't in a crowded diner filled to the brim with your schoolmates. Some of whom threw glances every now and then, as baffled by the situation as you were.

It wasn't every day that a popular girl hung out with a loser girl out in the open without a care in the world.

And yet, that was exactly what Rowena was doing.

She wasn't ashamed of being seen with you. Wasn't ashamed of spreading her books across the table as if it were the floor in her room. Wasn't ashamed of pointing to her notes and explaining things to you; quietly, as was polite, but still publicly.

She just did it.

As if it was the most normal thing in the world.

As of it was something she did every day, a habit she was proud and fond of.

You'd almost forgotten her outburst Friday night.

It was a silly thing to get mad about in the first place. She was upset, obviously so. You should have left her alone instead of prying. Should have let her be.

After all, it wasn't like you were friends.

You had no right to offer her comfort she quite obviously hadn't wanted.

She had Olivette there for that. She'd been at the party, dressed up as a witch along with her posse. A bitchy little coven. None quite as stunning, as striking as Rowena.

No other witch at the party could measure up to her.

A strange ache squeezed at your heart as your thoughts raced, jumbled, a mix of words swirling around your head like a hurricane. You tried to concentrate on the lessons Rowena was explaining, but your mind was elsewhere, miles away from math and numbers and even the delicious smoothie you were sipping on.

Instead, the constant in your head, the one thing you could focus on (despite trying your hardest not to), was Rowena.

The softness of her words. The patience as she went over everything written down in her notebook, one detail at a time. The smile painted on her mouth, so relaxed, so genuine. The warmth in her eyes that never left, even when Lucifer and Olivette walked in and made faces at the sight of the two of you buried in math.

The two kept giving you stink eyes, especially Olivette, whose scorn was painted over her face in plain sight, naked to the world, but Rowena didn't care. She remained focused on her work, on new lessons you barely understood. On the pencil she clutched and the problem she'd written down and solved while explaining every step of the way.

For once in almost four long years, Lucifer and Olivette didn't matter.

She only had eyes for you.

And you reveled in it. Your heart fluttered every time she'd look up and ask if you understood what she'd done. Jolts of electricity went through you every time your hand would brush against hers, a feeling so warm, so pleasant you found yourself craving it.

You wanted to be her friend.

The realization hit out of nowhere, as strange as it was unexpected.

Yes, you thought, weighing everything in, sorting it through. You truly, genuinely wanted it. Even if Crowley was right, if she was using you, you enjoyed her company. You wanted to hang out with her more.

You didn't know why. She was still a mean girl, still a part of a bad group of people. Still dated the school's biggest asshole. But she was also nice, and funny, and so damn friendly it made your head spin.

A complete contradiction, that girl was. A mystery you were intent on solving.

A, hopefully one day, friend.

"You guys had an argument or something?" you asked suddenly, cutting her off amidst explanation of some formula you knew right then and there you would never grasp.

Rowena raised a questioning eyebrow.

You shrugged.

She sighed. "Lucifer's an arse."

That prompted you to chuckle. "The sky is blue. Grass is green."

She rolled her eyes.

"You chose him," you pointed out.

"I'm well aware, thank you," she retorted with a glare.

"If you're so pissed, break up with him."

A small part of you lit up with hope, though you knew it was just wishful thinking.

Rowena MacLeod, while nice in private, was still an attention whore.

And what better way to get attention than to date the principal's popular asshole son?

She shot you an incredulous look. "Why in hell would I do that?"

"You said it yourself. He's an ass."

Her expression softened. "He is, but… I… I love him."

If she did, why did she hesitate so much before saying it? Why did the words seem to taste so foul on her lips?

Who was she trying to convince? You or herself?

"Then why are you ignoring him?"

"He pissed me off."

Right.

Of course.

With a heavy lump in your throat, you asked, "Is that why you wanted to hang out with me here today? To piss him off back?"

"What? No!" she quickly said. "I just… it's complicated."

"Right."

You should have known.

You did know.

It still hurt, for reasons you couldn't put your finger on.

Why did it matter? She was a popular girl. You were at the bottom of the barrel. Your worlds didn't mesh together.

Just because you wanted to be her friend didn't mean she had similar desires.

This whole tutoring thing was, after all, just business. Neither of you would have been here if you didn't have to.

"I'm not using you, if that's what you're thinking," Rowena said.

"Yeah. You would never," you said sarcastically.

She flinched as if struck.

A strange wave of satisfaction washed over you.

Now she knew how you felt.

"You think that low of me?"

Her tone was so hurt, so crestfallen it made your heart feel as if it were being torn apart.

There was a time when you would have enjoyed doing this to her. When you would have laughed at knocking her down a peg.

Ancient history.

Things were different now. Better. Not by much, but still better.

"Let's just get back to work," you said.

Rowena was about to say something, but opted not to. Instead, she complied without protest.

Maybe the two of you weren't suited to be friends.

Maybe all it was was fantasy, wishful thinking on your part. A dream that would never come to reality.

*****

Rowena'd had so much fun she'd managed to surprise herself.

At first she thought she'd made a mistake. Maybe walking out the school with a loser girl rather than her popular friends wasn't such a great idea after all. And spending over two hours in a diner with her, surrounded by books and notes like some lowly nerd while others peeked and watched and sneered was an even worse one.

Wrong.

It was, dare she say it, amazing.

For once, she didn't have to hide who she was in public. She didn't have to pretend to know nothing, didn't have to fake a smile and laugh at things her friends found funny, that she personally found distasteful.

She could just be.

Things were awkward, yes. You were suspicious, and rightfully so; Rowena would have suspected herself, as well. She didn't have a good track record when it came to kindness out in the open.

But, as time passed, you relaxed. Her jokes and soft smiles eased you in, and by the time the tutoring session had come to an end, your own mouth was curled up in a smile.

Hanging out with you, she'd realized right then and there, was easy. Strange as it was, you were an easy person to get along with. Even with your suspicions and concerns that you were being used, which Rowena was adamant were unfounded (though understandable, given her reputation), you were an absolute joy to spend time with.

Much more entertaining than Lucifer and Olivette.

The two of them were there, sitting a few rows away. Rowena could feel their eyes on her. Could feel their glares and disappointed stares. Could feel Olivette's anger, white hot on her skin like sunlight amidst a heatwave, dangerous, cancerous. Vindictive.

She would get hers.

There was a time, as recently as a few weeks, when that would have frightened her.

Now, brimming with newfound confidence, Rowena was anticipating it.

It was time she set her foot down.

Stepping into her front yard, she froze at the sight of a familiar figure, tall and blond and looming, sitting on the front steps.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded in a no-nonsense tone. She wasn't going to let him ruin her happy day.

"Your idiot brother wouldn't let me in so I had to wait out here," Lucifer said with a pout that was adorable, but didn't make Rowena any less mad at him.

She grinned. Fergus wasn't as dumb as she thought.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated, putting more emphasis on her words. Her accent instantly thickened, a common side effect of her anger. People usually found it terrifying.

Not Lucifer. He found it hot.

No matter what she did, how angry she got, how loudly she shouted, he was never intimidated by her.

Being twice as strong and popular tended to give one's ego a boost.

Lucifer smiled. "I wanted to talk."

"That's a first."

Usually he just cozied up to her, showered her in kisses, took her to bed, and bam! He was forgiven. Just like that. Until he snapped and put his hands on her again.

He didn't talk. He didn't apologize. He gave, but only so he could take. And she let him, because she was an idiot and the thought of everything she'd lose, of everything he could take away, terrified her much more than a few bruises.

Lucifer sighed. "Look, I know I acted like a dick."

She had to snort at that.

Another first.

He continued, ignoring her dismissal, "I know. There's no excuse for what I did."

What, exactly, was that? Telling her what to do? Snapping at her? Pinning her against the wall? Slapping her?

Being a bloody awful person — boyfriend — in general?

The list of his crimes was longer than The Odyssey.

Rowena quirked up an eyebrow, not believing a word that came out of his mouth. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Lucifer said with a shrug. "I'm a jackass."

Understatement of the century.

"Is that why you came here? To tell me things I already know?"

Her tone was cold as her stare. She wasn't backing down. If he wanted to get back into her good graces, he would have to work for it.

He sighed. Opened his mouth to utter a no doubt nasty remark, but elected to keep it to himself.

Smart boy.

An uncomfortable, deafening silence settled on them for a few moments, before he uttered, "I'm sorry" in the tone of a child forced to apologize to his classmate for bullying him by his teacher. Whiny. Not really meaning it. Only doing it out of necessity.

But…

He still said it.

He didn't want to, but he still apologized.

Because he knew what he'd done was wrong.

Because he knew he could lose her.

Despite every nerve, every cell in her body screaming at her not to fall for it, Rowena's heart swelled up with warmth.

Yes, he'd been a major asshole. Yes, he'd put his hands on her. But he still wanted her. He cared enough to stomp on everything he stood for, everything that made him him, and apologize.

He'd never apologized before.

She hated him. God, she hated him. With the burning passion of a thousand suns.

But she also loved him.

A part of her did, anyway. A traitorous part that whispered to give him another chance. To let it go like she always did.

She would.

As soon as the apology fell from his mouth, she knew that she would. Hell, even before that.

The two of them could never stay mad for too long.

They were using each other. But, in some twisted way, they cared about each other. Not like real couples; they were way past that. It was their own form of affection, foreign to the rest of the world. Foreign even to them sometimes.

Rowena hadn't forgiven him. She couldn't. Shouldn't. But she could put it behind her. For now.

There were only about seven months left of high school, and then she was free. She never had to see him or Olivette or any other numbnut from school ever again.

She could handle seven more months of an unstable relationship.

She was Rowena MacLeod. She survived. And she would survive this.

"I'm not going to stop tutoring Y/N," she said matter-of-factly. If she had to put up with his temper tantrums, then he had to put up with her spending time with you. It was only fair.

"I don't want you to," Lucifer said.

"Or hanging out with her," Rowena added.

"Fine," he said, though his tone made it clear it was everything but fine. "I don't care. I just wanna be with you."

Me, too, she wanted to say, but she knew in her heart it wasn't true. She wanted what he had. His power. His influence. His popularity. But him? She could do without.

He was just a means to an end.

A means she had some feelings for that she couldn't comprehend. Was it even love? Or was it something else? If yes, then what?

Why was it so confusing?

If she had to choose, she would rather be with you.

The thought came out of nowhere, startling her. But as she pondered on it, she realized it was true.

She preferred you to Lucifer.

You were nice to her. You didn't tell her what to do. Didn't hit her. Didn't expect her to be something — someone — she wasn't. Didn't do anything, or say anything, to hurt her.

You were a good person. A loser, but happy. Unapologetically yourself.

You thinking lowly of her hurt her. She understood it, understood your distrust and suspicions, but that didn't make it hurt less.

Disappointing Lucifer was a goal.

Disappointing you was torture.

The thought of you abandoning her hurt more than the thought of losing Lucifer. Of losing Olivette, and her posse, and the power they all wielded and shared with her.

She wanted it. All of it.

But she wanted you more.

And she couldn't understand why.

Rowena narrowed her eyes. "Buy me dinner tomorrow."

Lucifer grinned. "Your favorite restaurant?"

"Where else?"

"You got it, Red."

She smiled. "Good boy."

He walked over to her. Clasped his hands gently over hers. Tangled their fingers into soft, loving knots. "You still my girl?"

"What do you think?"

Their lips locked in a kiss, soft and sweet. Passionate, but caring. The kind of kiss he gave her whenever he wanted her forgiveness. A wordless promise things would be better even though they would not. Not for long.

She was still his girl.

She would be his girl for the following seven months.

What other choice did she have?

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @gaysnakess @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @tasyahilker @a-queen-and-her-throne

#rowena #rowena macleod #rowena x reader #spn #supernatural #lucifer #spn family #my fics #fanfiction #high school au

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marril96 · 5 years

Text

The Distance Between Us

Chapter 6: With Friends Like These...

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Rowena is surprisingly generous, and Crowley is a drama king.

Editor: @cherrypierowena

The Sunday tutoring session went as well as the first one. You still had a long way to go, but at the very least you were starting to understand the few lessons that were on the test.

For a mean girl, Rowena was an amazing teacher. You could tell learning was something she was really passionate about, as was spreading the knowledge she had.

If only she were like that — that patient, that, dare you say it, nice — at school.

You might have even liked her.

Was that why Sam liked her? Her genuine interest in knowledge? Was that what they were talking about when they hung out?

If yes, you could somewhat understand where Sam was coming from. If you only knew her as a dedicated geek, you would like her, too.

But you didn't.

The majority of what you saw of her was meanness. Bullying. Snobbery.

A few hours of studying together couldn't erase that. Couldn't erase the fact that not only had she made the choice to be that way — she'd fought tooth and nail for it.

She was a mean girl by choice.

When the bell rang that Monday, Ms. Hanscum asked for you and Rowena to stay behind. Rowena rolled her eyes. You did the same. You'd had enough of math.

"So," Ms. Hanscum said in her ever-present overly cheerful tone, "how's it going, girls? Made any progress?"

"Yup," you replied. Not as much as she probably expected, but it was something.

"Great!" she beamed. "I knew this would be a great arrangement!"

"It's bloody epic," Rowena mumbled under her breath sarcastically.

You snorted.

Ms. Hanscum frowned. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Rowena said, picture perfect smile mirroring the teacher's painted on her mouth.

Ms. Hanscum grinned big and bright. "I'm so happy for you girls! This'll help you both out. You'll see."

Right. Because being forced to spend time with someone you disliked was so helpful.

"You gonna be ready for the make up exam?"

The question caught you off guard. "Um… well…"

"She totally will," Rowena cut in. You threw her a look she ignored.

You'd gone over a few lessons. There were still a lot of things you didn't get. A lot of things you were insecure about.

You would study, but you doubted it would help much.

The majority of the things that were on the test were still a foreign language to you, and that meant another big, fat F.

"Excellent!" Ms. Hanscum said happily. She reached into a paper bag she had on the desk, took out a donut and bit into it. Pointing at the bag, mouth full and smeared with powdered sugar, she asked, "Donut?"

Rowena made a face as if she'd just been offered rotten meat.

"Sure," you said just to spite her, and took a donut of your own. You took a large bite, basking in the sweetness. "They're awesome!"

"Right?" Ms. Hanscum said. "There's this bakery down the street from where I live. They make excellent donuts! Take another one."

You did as you finished the first one, then bid goodbye to the teacher and headed outside.

"You're disgusting," Rowena said, expression matching her words.

You smirked. "I know."

She rolled her eyes.

"What's with the whole 'she'll totally be ready' shit?" you asked.

"That." She shuffled her feet nervously. Looked around as if in search of spies. "I was thinking — maybe we could study today, tomorrow, and the day after, too."

She what?

"You crazy?"

As if two days wasn't enough.

She wanted to add three more days to it?

"We don't have to," Rowena said, annoyed. "Just saying we could."

"Isn't that a bit much?"

She shrugged. "There's quite a bit we still haven't covered."

"Maybe I don't struggle with that," you said.

She looked at you in disbelief. "Do you?"

If only you didn't.

There was no point lying. "Yeah."

She smirked. Triumphant. Smug. "So, what do you say?" In a nonchalant, overly fake tone, she added, "It's fine if you don't want to. It's your grade."

Did — did she want you to say yes?

"Fine," you said.

Your friends were going to just love you missing out on hangouts to study with her.

"Four o'clock?"

"Works for me."

It was a deal.

*****

"So?" Dean asked first thing he saw you at lunch break.

"So what?"

But you already knew.

"What was it like, studying with the evil skank?"

The hot topic in your friend group.

"Quite fun, actually," you said.

They all, except for Sam, looked at you as if you'd just admitted to killing a litter of kittens.

Awful, pathetic, and horrible were some of the expected answers.

Oh, well.

You lived to disappoint.

"What?" you said defensively and took a bite out of your sandwich.

Crowley looked you in the eyes, then, seeing you were serious, did the sign of the cross.

You rolled your eyes so hard Rowena would've envied you.

Seriously?

He wasn't even religious. His only gospel was You Only Live Once and he lived its word to the fullest.

"Fun? Fun?!" he said dramatically. Loud enough for the entire school to hear him. A few people turned their heads. Most ignored him, having gotten used to his theatrics. "You call spending time with my sister — alone — fun?!"

"Yeah," you said nonchalantly.

His face flushed red as a cherry. Or a bomb inches away from explosion. Which, given the circumstances, seemed like a likely scenario. "That's it!" he proclaimed. "Friendship over!"

God.

What was it that made you want to be friends with him in the first place?

Oh, right — this very behavior.

You sure knew how to pick them.

"Were we ever even friends?" Crowley kept ranting. Eyes wide. Hands flying in all directions as he gestured like a madman. Accent thick in every word. "Was everything a lie? Are you a lie? Do you even bloody exist?!"

"Oh, come on!" you said, irritation sparking through you like a rush of heat.

You were beginning to comprehend why he and Rowena didn't get along — they were too damn similar!

"You've gone team whore!"

You shot him an incredulous look. "'Cause I liked studying with her?"

"That's how she gets you!" he explained. "Pretends to be nice. Sucks you in. Digs the claws in. Then you're hers! You might as well be dead!"

"You're overreacting." You looked around. "Why are y'all so quiet? He's overreacting. Right? Tell him he's overreacting."

"He's overreacting" Sam said.

Your man! "Thank you!"

Castiel frowned in confusion. His signature move. "You really liked it?"

"Yeah," you replied. "She's a great teacher."

Crowley let out an inhumane noise that might have been a squeak.

Or a pterodactyl mating call.

"She is!" you said defensively.

"Wow," Meg said.

Dean scowled suspiciously. "You hit your head? Did she hit you in the head?"

"Jesus Christ!" you exploded, having had enough. Your gang was always a bit weird, but this was ridiculous. This was fucking crazy! "I just think she's a good tutor. Doesn't mean I like the girl!"

"You liked being with her. That's pretty much the same thing," Dean said.

"No, it's not," you argued. "Why do you even care? I mean, Sam's friends with her."

"Sam gets his at home."

The younger Winchester shot him his signature bitchface.

"You hate her," Dean added. "You've always hated her!"

More like disliked her.

Severely.

She hadn't — yet — done anything to make you hate her.

Even still…

"It was just one study session!" you defended.

Meg held up two fingers and said in a deadpan manner, "Two."

"Two study sessions," you corrected. A sigh escaped your mouth. "I don't get what the big deal is. Like I said, she's still a bitch. She's just also a good tutor."

"She'll fuck you over," Crowley said. "She'll play with your heart, then tear it out and eat it right in front of you!"

"Okay, drama king," you said exasperatedly. "You're right. You're completely right. Can you stop now?"

"She will eat it!" he exclaimed dramatically.

"I'm starting to think you're jealous."

He scowled.

You smiled, sugary sweet, overdone.

"Don't worry. You're still my favorite MacLeod. Even if you're annoying."

He flipped you off.

You returned the favor.

"I'm no fan of ginger-bitch, but I'm starting to see why she hates drama king here," Meg commented. "So fucking glad I'm an only child."

"Says the girl who sucked Lucifer's dick up until recently," Crowley retorted.

Meg shot him a look that threatened murder. "He wishes. Do you also wish I sucked your dick?"

"I'm not that desperate. Besides, a man my size? You couldn't handle it, darling."

She laughed. "Trust me, sugar, I've handled bigger and better."

She squeezed Castiel's arm as she said that, prompting him to blush crimson and turn his head.

Crowley snickered. "Never a real man, then."

"Clarence is plenty real," Meg said. Her way of calling him angel. "You? A waste. Might as well change your name to Tiffany and parade around in a pink dress."

Damn.

She was ruthless.

"I'd still look bloody fabulous," Crowley said, head high in feigned pride. "Better than Feathers here. You two are perfect for each other."

"Why, thank you!"

"It wasn't a compliment."

"It was to me."

"You take everything as a compliment. Like all those things Lucifer said to you. The rumors he spread. All compliments, right?"

Meg scowled. He'd hit a nerve. "Piss off, Fergus."

Uh oh.

There was a reason he'd insisted that everyone — including the teachers — called him Crowley. He hated his birth name. Loathed it to the depths of his soul. He claimed it sounded like a venereal disease and hated his mother for giving it to him.

Rowena, naturally, insisted on calling him that and only that.

His friends, on the other hand, called him as he preferred.

Meg sure knew how to run her mouth.

But then, she wasn't his friend. The two of them could barely stand each other, and had only hung out because she was dating Castiel, who in turn was sort-of-friends with him.

Calling them acquaintances would be generous.

"I'll piss on you, Meg," Crowley retorted.

Meg grinned. "Oh, you just know what turns me on, don't you?" she purred.

He flipped her off.

She laughed.

Good ol' Meg and Crowley. Always a great distraction.

As they bantered, Castiel, as well as you, Sam, and Dean stood there awkwardly. Unsure what to say. How to react.

Then you revealed that you would be studying with Rowena today, tomorrow, and the day after, and, to your grievance, all the attention and drama was back on you.

*****

"You what?"

Olivette was livid. She remained calm, but her tone, the strain in her voice, the ice on her face were dead giveaways of the storm that brewed inside. Tranquil fury. Lightning before the rumbling thunder.

As expected, she hadn't taken the news of Rowena having three tutoring sessions with you this week well.

Neither did Lucifer, but he, at the very least, had the decency to keep his anger to himself.

"You're really tutoring Dumbo three days this week?" he said. "Seriously?"

"It wasn't my bloody idea!" Rowena said. "Ms. Hanscum said I had to. And tried to force-feed me donuts."

She made a face.

Olivette made an even more disgusted one. "That bitch is such a pig."

"I drew the line at that," Rowena said.

Okay, so she said a wee lie. Or a couple. Or a bit more.

She couldn't exactly admit it was her idea. What would that look like?

A shudder ran through her at the thought, cold as ice.

"So you can't hang out today?" Olivette asked.

Rowena shook her head. "Or tomorrow, or Wednesday."

'What about us?" Lucifer whined, pouting like a child.

She pulled on a smile. He was an arse, but he could be impossibly cute when he wanted.

"She doesn't care."

He said something not very nice under his breath. "This is such bullshit!"

"I'll make it up to you," Rowena said, lacing fingers through his. Squeezing them together in a tight knot. Her eyes wandered from his to Olivette's. "Both of you. Friday night, I'm all yours."

The truth was, she was looking forward to studying with you more than the outing she'd arranged with them.

She thought having popular friends would be the best thing ever, but the truth was, it was the opposite.

She hated it.

Hated watching Olivette and her little posse bully girls they deemed fat and ugly and boys they deemed unworthy of looking at them.

Hated watching Lucifer shove kids into lockers and threaten them for nothing but the sheer thrill of it.

Hated being there when it happened.

Hated laughing along with them, encouraging them without a single word as their victims' eyes wandered to her in search of help, of mercy, only to turn down in disappointment at finding none.

A part of her knew it was worth it. The life she had — she'd fought for it. So what if a few people had to suffer?

At least it wasn't her.

Never again.

Now, she was on top of the food chain.

Didn't mean she had to like all it entailed.

She needed an out. A vacation. A wee bit of time away from it all. Needed something to make her forget all the bad she did — all the bad she was still doing.

She was a good tutor. A bloody great one.

And, for a girl who never did anything to better herself, you made for good company.

You did as told. It took you a while from time to time, but you did all the work she gave you. Contrary to what she thought, you weren't dumb. You just needed a bit of guidance.

There were sarcastic remarks and eye-rolls, often mutual, but other than that, tutoring you was a pleasant experience.

It was, dare she say it, fun.

"You'd better," Lucifer purred, then pressed his lips to hers in a hungry kiss.

"I promise," Rowena muttered as they parted for breath. Then his lips were on hers once again, and she gave herself away, let him do with them as he pleased.

That was the way things worked between them. She gave. He took. Anything he wanted, he could take, no questions asked.

Just like Olivette and her posse.

Oh, well.

Everything came with a price stamped on it in large, bolded letters.

Rowena knew what she was getting into.

She'd made her bed. Now she had to lie in it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @gaysnakess @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @tasyahilker @a-queen-and-her-throne

#rowena #rowena macleod #rowena x reader #spn #supernatural #crowley #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #meg masters #olivette #lucifer #fanfiction #my fics #high school au

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sueboohscorner · 6 years

Text

OUTLANDER S3 EP7 : "Creme de Menthe" or A Big Hole In the Head

What can I say about this episode? Ugh. It had a moment here or there, but they DID change alot from the book, even the attitudes / personalities of Jamie and Claire. I am not here to complain about the changes, but I did NOT like the attitudes of these two this week. It was like we were watching a totally different couple than last episode. Remember, unlike most of the first part of this season where we were just flying through the 20 years apart at high speed, episode 6 and this one are on a 24 hour window.

So, if you remember the end of the last episode, Claire returns to her room to find a man rifling through Jamie's belongings looking for the ledgers and threatens her life and, of course, by raping her. This episode picks right back up there. Claire finds a knife and in true Claire fashion, fights him off and cuts him, making him stagger back. He gets mad and decides he is just going to kill her now, to hell with the rape. He advances and trips over something on the floor and falls back, hitting his head on the hearth of the fireplace. Damn hearths....always killing people! Claire stands there stupefied and in shock. Jamie walks in. This is where we see a character personality change. Jamie only asks Claire what happened and slowly comes up behind her and reaches and takes the knife away. He doesn't, at any point, ask her if she is okay or take her in his arms. She explains that the man was looking for the ledgers and was trying to attack her. She leaves out details of him thinking she is a whore and wanting to rape her.

Claire goes over to the man and sees that he is still breathing and alive, but upon checking his head wound, she concludes he has pressure building up on his brain and she vows to save him. Jamie says to just let the man die and doesn't understand Claire being adamant about saving this guy. He explains that if he lives, he could have her arrested as she is a woman alone with a man in a brothel and he could say SHE attacked him.

She refuses to listen to reason and says she swore to save lives, no matter who. Jamie and Fergus (who showed up with Madame Jeanne) are convinced that the man works for Sir Percival (the English ass trying to extort more money from Jamie for smuggling liquor). Madame Jeanne is not pleased, because that could bring Sir Percival around to search her place and the liquor is in the basement. Jamie sends Fergus to get Young Ian and the two of them sell off the liquor ASAP.

Young Ian is quite the negotiator it turns out. He would be quite the car salesman in the modern day! They actually make a small profit for selling off the brandy and throwing in 3 casks of Creme de Menthe.

Claire dresses and heads to the apothocary shop. She is allowed to go in front of a man asking questions about all types of herbal remedies when Claire claims she is in a hurry and will stop by and look at the man's sister.....free of charge.....if he would allow her to go ahead of him. She asks for a trepanning tool (a drill basically) and some other assorted items. She pays for the items and agrees to stop by the other customer's place later in the day. Upon arriving back, Jamie and Mr. Willoughby are trying to hold down the man on the bed. Jamie looks like he is trying to smother him, and Claire is horrified. Jamie snaps that the idiot suddenly woke up and started to scream and carry on and that is NOT an option. Claire hurries and gives him something to make him sleep and so she can operate. Just then, Jamie is told that Sir Percival has arrived and he heads downstairs.

Of course, we must show and HEAR Claire drilling into the man's head ye ole tool. Even Mr. Willoughby, who is instructed to watch over and help Claire, is visibly disturbed. No more on this subject.

Jamie and Madame Jeanne stall Sir Percival and a creepy looking man with one blind eye. When Sir Percival says that they are going to search the premises, Jamie says they are more than happy to. Down in the basement they find nothing but a puddle that they think is brandy at first, but turns out to be just a small puddle of water. “We have a leak,” Madame Jeanne explains. “That’s why we can’t store anything of value down here.” They move on to search the rest of the brothel and of course, find nothing.

With Sir Percival quieted, at least for the moment, Jamie returns to his room to find that Claire's efforts have failed and the man is dead. Jamie thinks it is for the best and that is not what Claire thinks. Here again, we have a character personality change. Claire is so over zealous with her Real Doctor status that she comes across very much as a bitch. She recovers somewhat and apologizes to Jamie for just dropping in on him and causing so much trouble.

One of our only sweet moments in this episode is when Jamie says “Sassenach, you came thousands of miles and 200 years to find me,” Jamie says. “I’m grateful you are here, no matter the cost. I will give up everything I have for us to be together again.” I believe there is something about living in the shadows and the sun suddenly appeared when he saw her (from their wedding night).

This is short lived as Claire reveals she has another patient to attend to. Jamie is concerned, as she just arrived and wants Fergus to go with her. She outright refuses which is....again....the bitch coming out. She is really forgetting what century she is in. She heads out to meet Archie Campbell and his sister Margaret. Claire examines the woman and grabs her wrist to check her pulse. Margaret, as in the books, is downright nutso. However, they changed them from missionaries and her condition from something that had to do with Culloden to them being "psychics" as Archie explains to Claire that his sister is a seer. Claire says she seems healthy and strong and really thinks it is a mental condition. Archie isn't surprised and just wants to know of something to keep her sleepy and quiet as they are leaving to go to the West Indies. Claire questions him and he says his sister has a problem with just walking up to people and telling them something they don't want to hear. Claire makes some suggestions and leaves. Point to remember.....if they don't change much of what happens in the West Indies, we will see these two again!

Meanwhile, Fergus and Young Ian are at a pub celebrating the good luck of making a profit on the liquor. Young Ian asks a question which leads to Fergus giving the finer points of seduction and the fact that tonight is the night in which Young Ian finally talks to the barmaid he has had his eye on. Young Ian is horrified as he has never been with a lass.

He asks Fergus what was it like for his first time (FYI...Young Ian is a virgin). Fergus says it was a Menage a Trois and says it was two girls and one "Moi". LOL! Fergus motions for the girl, Brighid, to come over and when she does, he quickly leaves to allow Young Ian to make his move. He makes an impression, because she sits down and allows him to buy her a whiskey (like a good Scottish girl).

Young Ian it turns out is about to get lucky (and then not so lucky). He has taken Brighid to the print shop and is singing (not so well) to her atop a box. They head to the back where the bed is and she kisses him. He is turned on and like a virgin....and like Jamie on his wedding night....bends the girl over the bed and starts to hike up her skirts and undo his trousers. She stops him and he explains that he has heard / seen the ladies at the brothel do it in this way. Well, Brighid says that tonight she is not a whore (does this mean she is other times?) and Young Ian asks what he should do. She smiles and just tells him to lie down and she would show him.

Back at the brothel, Claire returns and her and Jamie converse (NO.....this is NOT what we want right now!). She suggests that maybe they could find a place of their own and Jamie is confused. He says they have everything they need right here (in a BROTHEL MAN!) and there is no rent to pay. Claire suggests that maybe she can start healing again and get paid or maybe she could open up her own clinic (somehow I find that implausible as she is a woman and all in a difficult time period....but okay). They don't get to finish their conversation because there is a knock at the door announcing that a Sir Ian Murray has arrived to see Mr. Malcolm. Claire is excited to see Ian Sr.

Turns out Ian is very shocked, even sheds a tear, to see Claire again. She, of course, gives him the same story. She thought Jamie and everyone had died at or after Culloden, so she decided to sail to America and just recently learned that Jamie was alive. I would have added something about not returning to Lallybroch to live because of being pregnant and not wanting to be a burden in a tough time....but that would be just me.

Ian is there asking Jamie if he has seen Young Ian as the daft boy ran off again. Claire watches as Jamie outright lies to Ian's face. He says he hasn't and Ian asks if he does see him to send him right home. Jamie agrees and Ian says his goodbye to Claire and Jamie walks him out to the door. Ian mentions something about a certain situation and Jamie says he knows and he is going to have Ned Gowan (holy cow....how OLD is this man now?) look into things. Ian leaves and back in the room, Claire is not happy and asks why Jamie felt the need to lie to family which is something he would never have done before. Jamie tries to explain that this isn't the first time that Ian has ran away and came to him. Better with an uncle than on the streets elsewhere. Claire asks why isn't Young Ian at home then. Jamie explains that he has tried several times to send the boy away, but to no avail. It is obvious Claire is still not happy.

Back at the print shop, Young Ian and Brighid are having a nice time (not the hot steamy Claire and Jamie sex, but this is all we get this week). There is a noise and then a louder one. He gets up and looks and sees the "one-eyed" man looking through the print shop. He orders Brighid out the back of the print shop and turns and advances towards the man. He tells the man to get out. The man demands to know where the casks are. Young Ian tells him there are no casks in this shop, but the man doesn't believe him.

They begin to fight and a struggle happens that makes them slam into a wall that happens to be the wall that Jamie hides the treasonous pamphlets. The man is more than happy to find those and pockets a few. He and Young Ian struggle some more and a fire starts and Young Ian manages to get the man in the eye with some very hot liquid. The man escapes (wait....what? I say as I am seeing this....Young Ian KILLS this man in the print shop in the book) and Young Ian is left hopelessly trying to put out the fire.

Back at the brothel, Jamie and Claire are actually arguing now about the lying to Ian. This is leading to bad parenting choices and Claire saying that Jamie is NOT Young Ian's father. Jamie turns things around to him not having a choice on parenting Brianna and some crappy comment about the bikini is mentioned. Jamie's jealous side about Frank raising his daughter comes out, but before any more bad and shitty comments come out, Jamie is alerted there is a fire down on Carfax Close and Jamie immediately thinks of the print shop there.

The fire is much worse now and Young Ian is trapped inside and Jamie knows it. He grabs Claire's cloak, which seems to miraculously fire retardant, and rushes up the steps and into the print shop. He goes in at the top and is crossing the walkway area and sees Young Ian down below.

Like Superman, he jumps over the banister to the floor below and lands on his feet. He looks around and sees his options are very limited to get back out. He has to carry Young Ian and move his gigantic printing press over to a window and climb up it to get out. Outside, tensions are high as the fire is quickly eating and destroying the building. When Jamie and the boy are spotted, Claire rushes over to them to check on them and makes sure she makes a stab about Young Ian being "safe" here with his uncle.

Jamie decides that it is time to skip town, as now there is a man out there with those pamphlets that could get him strung up. He decides it is time to take Young Ian home to Lallybroch. While Claire is busy with Young Ian, Jamie pulls Mr. Willoughby aside and hands him some money. He orders him to pay the men (the smugglers) what is owed. Next, he tells Fergus to see if he can find that henchman with the pamphlets and to take care of the problem. Then to contact Ned Gowan about the other issue and have him meet them at Lallybroch.

Fergus is surprised to find out that Claire still doesn't know about the "other wife". Absolutely no comment from me on this one. Not looking forward to the next episode really.

So the episode ends with this revelation. Why they thought it necessary to tell the secret of Jamie being married again. I liked how it was in the book. Still remember my reaction when that bitch showed up. Of course, I am sure I will have quite a bit to say next week! Just be prepared to hate Jenny Fraser....it is partially her fault.

So there is my thoughts. I would give this episode a 4 out of 10. Slightly disappointing as I didn't like the feel of the episode. Jamie and Claire just got done with an incredible night of love making and seemed at ease with one another, but in this one, they were at odds and it is going to get worse before it gets better.

What did you think? If you haven't read the books or seen spoilers, who do you think it is he is married to? Leave comments below! Thanks for reading!

#Outlander Season 3 #Outlander (TV series)#Outlander Starz #Outlander #Sam Heughan #Caitriona Balfe #Cesar Domboy #Steven Cree #John Bell #Jamie Fraser #James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser #Claire Fraser #Claire Beauchamp Randall / Fraser #Fergus Fraser #Young Ian Murray

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