Chapter Text
Lallybroch, Late September 1757
“James Murray, ye slow down right now! I dinna want tae be cleaning up yer scratches again!” Ellen Murray hollered at her wild son.
It was nearing the end of harvest, all the crops tucked safely away for now and a chill settled in the bones of the estate’s inhabitants. It was likely the last day outside before winter cooped them up inside every day. The clearances and famines had long passed for the time being, but they could still feel their lingering touch over a decade later. But still, they had survived the worst of it. They always had. The long line of Murrays could attest to that.
James flung his body like a ragdoll on the gravel of the expansive courtyard by the manor house and shrieked in delight. He was currently fending off a ‘filthy Sassenach’ and claiming freedom for his country with just the flimsy stick in his hand. It was the truth, though the adults often muttered it was just stories of ‘the faeries and make-believe’. He would defend his mam and home against the lobsterbacks for it was his duty as would-be Laird of Lallybroch.
Ellen was content to let the toddler wander about near her while she did the laundry and the men tended the fields. Soon, she’d have a new bairn underfoot and she couldn’t possibly comprehend how she could handle not one but two balls of endless energy. She smiled to herself at the thought and pressed her hand on the fabric that covered her navel. Humming to the presence within her, her eyes flashed up again to survey her surroundings, suspicious at the sudden quiet that had taken over it. Where was her son?
“Mam!” Ellen’s heart dropped at the new tone that her son’s cries had taken.
She picked up her skirts into her hands and rushed to the side of the manor, near where the chicken coops resided. James stood, lip quivering and eyes unwavering as he fixed his gaze at the window of the Laird’s room. He howled in fright and hugged his arms to his shoulder as he shook. Ellen quickly gathered her distressed son in her lap and soothed him.
“Shh. What’s wrong mo chridhe?”
“Look ma, look in the window!” He shouted before burying his face in his mother’s chest.
It was then that she saw them, two figures embracing tightly. The tall figures almost shimmered in the light that passed through the smudged glass. The brunette turned and her eyes shone with such melancholy it touched Ellen’s heart as well. Her husband, Ellen presumed, gripped the waist of the curly haired woman and bent down to her ear, whispering something. Both their shoulders shook with laughter in response and he swooped down to kiss her neck. She cradled something in her arms, a swaddled babe perhaps, and never ceased her gaze to the man in front of her. But, just for one second they flashed down to Ellen below. The distinct hue of amber sent shivers down Ellen’s spine. The bundle of tartan gave out a mighty wail and then… nothing.
A wheeze of breath strained out of Ellen’s lungs and she crossed herself, clutching her bairn tightly. “Blessed Michael defend us.”