With the Gathering upon them, the dresses that had been prepared for Astrid were delivered. The tailor didn't spend much time fussing about them, clearly shaken by some sort of ordeal with Colum having happened just before. Claire had later revealed that the tailor had made Colum's coat long enough to cover his bandy legs, which had insensed him. While the tailor had been trying to be mindful, his intended effect did just the opposite. She didn't blame him for not wanting to deal with her.

The castle was choked full of unfamiliar Mackenzie faces that were in attendance to swear their allegiance to Colum. Part of Astrid wanted to do the same, given how kindly he had treated her, but knew it was improper as she was not a clansmember or man. Maybe if she married into the family she could swear fealty, but not until then.

"Try to stay around familiar faces, when the men get drunk they tend to get a bit grabby," Dougal had warned her the night before the Gathering.

The day of, Astrid felt strangely at home among the MacKenzies. Not because of any particular effort to include her, but just the manner in which the Gathering was conducted with festivities and games and drinking. Even though this was centuries in the past, she saw much of her own home village in these people. They were jovial to see one another again, to have time to tell tales and reminisce, to take a break from the hardships of their lives to celebrate and be gay. They deserved it, given how stressful things have been with the British inhabiting the Highlands. She hadn't seen any near Castle Leoch.

For the Gathering, she wore a silvery blue gown that was embroidered with little silver fish. It has been a pleasant surprise and she suspected that Logan had told the tailor after their conversations the day the tailor had come to visit. There were small easter eggs in each of the dresses she received and the attention to detail made her wonder if Logan was really serious.

Her hair was tied half up, the upper half of her hair braided and coiled at the back of her head in a bun. The rest of her waves flowed down her back and the front of the dress displayed her collar and the upper parts of her breasts, which were as smushed as physically possible, somehow giving the illusion that she had a chest.

She was watching a group of boys playing in the yard, practicing for a game that was to be held after the swearing of oaths on the morrow. Men were seeking distractions and booze, walking the courtyard with flagons in their hands.

Rupert, looking slightly disappointed and in his cups, waddled over in her direction. Typically, Astrid saw him following after Claire, as Dougal had ordered. He spotted her and hastened over.

"Ye ken any stories?" he asked, leaning against the hay bale she was sitting upon.

"Why stories?" she inquired, but could see the loneliness in the man's face. Usually he was with Angus, but one look across the yard and she could see that Angus had the attention of a plump woman. "Well, I think I have a few."

"Logan said ye would," Rupert gleaned expectantly, glancing at her with keen intrigue.

"Did he now? What else did he say of me?" Astrid mused with a smile.

"Nothing I might've chanced saying," Rupert grinned, taking a deep drink from his cups. "Ye hae a story?"

Astrid drew in a deep breath. "Yes, I suppose I do," she had nearly memorized the tales that Tolkein had spun. "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort-"

Astrid recounted the first chapter of The Hobbit, drawing in the rapt attention of not only Rupert, but all of the children that had been playing. Hearing the queer words like 'hobbit' they gravitated toward her, until they were all clustered around her in a circle, sitting in the dirt, staring up at her with awe. They were only interrupted with Angus swaggered over.

"The ceremony is aboot to begin," he declared, drawing greatly disappointed gasps from the boys and Rupert. "What's going on here?"

"Dinnae, the tale only just begun," Rupert frowned at his close companion. "Ye hae to keep telling it… At a later time of course," he seemed to be begging for the entertainment and the promise that he'd get to hear more.

"At another time-" Astrid began, the boys clambering to their feet.

"Yes miss."

"Please miss."

Their voices echoed in tandem, having been drawn in by the dwarves, hobbit, and Gandalf.

"I promise, I promise," she swore to them and their grubby hands that were reaching for hers. "Now we had better get to the hall. We wouldn't want to be late."

Akin to a mother hen, she ushered the children in front of her, followed by Rupert and Angus, heading into the castle to follow suit with a wave of attending Mackenzies. Upon her entrance she found herself on the ground floor rather than perched above with a better view. Despite this, she did manage to get to the front flank of the hall, so that she could see Colum from the side and those who approached him to swear their fealty.

Bagpipes echoed through the chamber, silencing the crowd as Colum appeared at the entrance. He was adorned in a more clever fashion, similar to what the British wore rather than a kilt or plaid. His coat was typical, displaying his bandy legs as he waddled proudly down the hall. He had a fury about him, but Astrid still held a high amount of respect for him. She knew that his legs pained him and yet he never allowed it to show.

With great dignity, he arrived at the top of the hall and stood before his seat. Greeting his wife and son, he turned and with a roar proclaimed, "Tulach Ard!" Before he descended into his opening speech. Astrid leaned into the speech, trying to translate as swiftly as possible and found it easier since Colum spoke carefully and powerfully. He was welcoming his men from their journeys, hoping that they had been safe along the way. In addition, he hoped no one had drawn iron, but if they did, he couldn't have hoped for better men to defend the clan's honor. Anyone who challenged the Mackenzies was crazy and Colum was proud to be their laird.

"Luceo non uro!" Colum ended, the crowd breaking out into cheering.

I shine, not burn, it was the Mackenzie clan's motto. She had heard it in passing conversations before, but hadn't paid much attention to it. Now, the men were calling it.

Breaking from the crowd, Dougal stepped up, removing one of his weapons from his belt. Holding the dagger over his open palms, he spoke. "I give ye me word, as a Mackenzie, thon if I ever betray the clan, may I die by the holy iron I hold within me hand," he proclaimed, staring up at his brother.

A line had formed, which Astrid had not even noticed from her little perch in the corner.

Dougal was given the quaich to drink from after Colum accepted his oath.

Logan stepped up next, dressed in a fine kilt and plaid. His hair had been pulled back from his face and his beard had grown in more than she had noticed before. He turned a knife in his hand, just the way his uncle had, repeating the same oath. He too was given the quaich to drink from, turning around to give a firm nod to his Uncle Dougal.

Astrid snickered as she watched Angus swagger to the front of the line, teetering in front of Colum in his haste. All of the Mackenzie men would need to make this oath, so she expected it was going to go on for a while. Still, she felt as if she should watch and understand their fealty, as it was respectful.

"I barely saw ye here," Logan whispered, materializing beside her with a bottle of liquor in his hand. "The oaths are all the same."

"I am aware, but I thought I should watch," she murmured back, not wishing to raise her voice too loudly for fear of being heard by Colum as the oaths were being made.

"How courteous of ye," Logan teased, taking a deep drink from his bottle. "I'd offer ye some, but I ken ye dinnae drink."

"Only for special occasions," Astrid admitted with a sorry smile.

"The Gathering is special," Logan pointed out.

Astrid glanced among the crowd, specifically picking out his uncle that had already finished his bottle of mysterious liquor. He wasn't staggering just yet, but some of the men were plainly drunk at this point. 'Right, a special night to get hammered."

"Hammered?" Logan echoed curiously.

"Ah… another turn of phrase for very drunk."

"Oh," Logan nodded. "Hammered…" he repeated fondly. "If yer not going to drink, I'll have to drink for ye."

"I hope you're not expecting me to take care of you when you're out of your wits," she suggested.

"Ye widnae look after me?" he pouted.

"I can certainly look, but I can't carry you or move you. You're twice my size," Astrid reminded him.

"I'd say thrice to be more precise," he took another swig. "Try to stay with me tonight. The men are going to get very drunk."

"Dougal already warned me," Astrid admitted.

"Good, they should nae bother ye with me around."

"Or what?" she speculated.

"Or whit?" he repeated.

"What would you do if they did bother me?"

"I'll fight em," Logan promised.

"You're already drunk," she observed. "You've been drinking all day?"

"Those eyes of yers… so clear and blue… can see right through me."

"Are you certain I shouldn't wary of you?" she joked lightly.

"Of me?" he snorted. "I'd never touch a hair upon yer head. Not unless ye asked me to."

Part of her was of a mind to ask him to, but she simply smiled at him and patted his arm like the dope he was. They remained in the hall to observe the ongoing oaths for a good time. Men dispersed and the line grew thinner. Eventually, it seemed that there were going to be no more oaths and Rupert wandered up to them.

"I was just telling Angus that ye were telling me and the boys the most detailed story I'd ever heard," Rupert proclaimed, a drunken arm wrapped around his companion's shoulders.

"He said a funny word like hobbit," Angus frowned, not certain what to make of it.

"Ja, I did. A hobbit is… like a little man. They had large hairy feet and don't wear shoes. Their manners are very similar to the English and the abhor fighting and love eating. They love eating so much that they eat more than three meals a day," she explained to Angus.

"Well, I want to hear the story too," Angus puffed up.

"At this rate I should sell tickets," she chuckled.

"I bet if ye asked Colum, he'd let you tell the tale," Rupert suggested.

"Perhaps on another night, when it's not the gathering," she reminded them.

"But I want to know if Bilbo is gaunnae help the dwarves," Rupert whined.

"Heavens, the children have more patience than you," Astrid scolded, getting a bawdy laugh from Angus.

"I need mair drink," Angus declared, dragging Rupert away as if he were a conjoined twin.

"Ye were telling stories?" Logan asked once they had disappeared.

"Ja, a story. It's very long, so it'd likely take a few nights to tell of it. I suppose asking Colum if I can tell it to the castle would be the best way to go telling it. That way I don't have to keep repeating myself," she remarked thoughtfully, dogearing the thought in her mind.

"Did ye make it up?" he asked.

"No, a storyteller who travels through Norway told it during a festival," she lied. Tolkein wasn't going to be born for nearly two centuries.

"Ye've got so much stored in that head of yers," Logan reached forward and gently tapped her temple. "I'm surprised yer head is not too big for yer body."

"I thought you liked that I know so much," Astrid jabbed back verbally.

"I do, I do," Logan leaned back against the wall. "I just dinnae how I'm going to remember everything ye say, but ye seem to not to forget much."

"I've got a good memory. It's why I can memorize stories and learn languages quickly. You're better at things that I'm no good at," she pointed out.

"For now. Ye might best me with a sword too for all I ken."

"I doubt it," she smiled, glancing away at his compliments as her cheeks burned.

"Ye blushing?" Logan leaned toward her, trying to get a better look at her face.

She swatted him away, her face only growing hotter as he moved closer. "Perhaps some fresh air?" she suggested, wondering if he'd excuse himself from the oaths.

However, since he had completed his own, Logan didn't seem preoccupied with those ongoing. Standing up straight, he gave her a nod, and they departed from the hall that was becoming increasingly more rambunctious. Just outside the hall, men were tottering around, having been in their cups all day, hitting their zenith of drunkenness after swearing their oaths and acquiring bottles of their own to consume.

Outside wasn't exceptionally better, there were Mackenzie men everywhere. Away from the business in the hall it was alarmingly loud with giggling and people moving between the stalls and cookfires that had been erected in the courtyard for the gathering. The behavior here made inside appear very mild mannered and Astrid began to regret her decision to come out for some air.

"Logan, ye gaunnae share yer lass with us?" a man, whom she'd never seen before, called from one of the fires. He had a collection of other men with him, all of which looked grubby and dirty. They made Angus and Rupert look like diamonds in comparison.

"Sod off," Logan called back to him.

"Who's that?" Astrid murmured.

"Me cousins, Camerons. Big lot of idiots," he grumbled tartly, his demeanor shifting. She had noticed this shift in him a few times before like the time Catriona had intruded on their sitting for the bard. While he was a light hearted and flirtatious man around her and often around his close kin, he had a colder shoulder he reserved for those he wasn't overly fond of. Clearly, he did not favor the Camerons.

But his cousin did not relent. "An robh i agad fhathast? Chan urrainn dhomh ach smaoineachadh air cho milis 's a tha i blasad. Carson nach roinn thu le do theaghlach?"

The Gaelic was meant to disclude her, as he clearly could see she was not Scottish. His speech was rough, but from what she garnered he was talking about bedding her and that Logan should share her. He was unaware that Astrid understood their tongue to a certain point and when she glanced up at Logan she saw his jaw was locked, a vein tensing in his neck.

"Coimheadaidh tu do theanga no caillidh tu i. Tha masladh don urram aice na mhasladh don chinneadh!" he snapped, his free hand reaching for the hilt of his sword.

The Camerons were startled by this proclamation. Another stood, opening his palms, and striding forward as if to entreat peace. "Cousin, if whit Beathan offended ye, we meant no foul. We just assumed given yer prior history-" his eyes slipped from Logan over to Astrid before a falsely gracious smile spread over his face. The expression sent unpleasant shivers down her spine.

"Do you speak to all future lairds with such indignation?" Astrid inquired sharply, drawing the man's attention back to her. "I think he told you to drop the subject." She had spoken out of term, butting into a conversation that had been Logan's.

"Yer not the Sassenach," the Cameron said slowly, taking a slight moment to recover. "Guest of the clan or not, ye should keep yer nose out of other people's business."

"Even when you insult my honor? I wouldn't bed any of you if you were the last men on earth. I think this is rightly my business and it was Logan defending it originally. However, I can fight my own battles as well."

"Fight yer own battles? Dae ye hear the lass?" the man snorted.

"The 'lass' took Black Jack Randall unaware and knocked him unconscious without being noticed," Logan informed him thinly. "Give her a sword an she might beat yer sorry arse too," he then shifted subjects. "Did ye swear yer oaths yet? I dinnae recall seeing ye in the hall. Did ye come here to drink or alcohol, but not swear allegiance to yer laird?"

The Camerons glanced around uncomfortably.

"Better swear in before Dougal finds ye free-loaders out here," Logan snipped, brushing his hand behind the small of Astrid's back, ushering her forward and away from the Camerons. Once out of earshot, he glanced down at her with slight dismay. "Ye needn't hae said anything."

"I'm not the type to keep my mouth shut when men are talking about sharing me," Astrid frowned. "I respect your voice and judgement in other situations, but when it comes to my own honor, well… I won't sit or stand idly."

Logan looked at her long and hard, eventually he breathed out a sigh and shook his head. "Yer gaunnae get yerself in trouble with thon mouth."

"Not if you're around," she chirped.

"I can only do so much," he admitted.

"Right now," she corrected.

"Whit do ye mean?" he asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I'll do it," she agreed.

"Do whit?"

"I'll marry you. If you're still interested."

Logan's reaction was delayed due to the alcohol he had taken in. Most of what he had drunk after his oath was beginning to hit him now. Part of her wondered if he would even remember that she had accepted. "If I'm still…" he said slowly. "Aye! Aye I am!" he exclaimed, dropping the bottle in his hand, spilling the few remaining drops in it. "Yer accepting? Why-how-when did ye change yer mind?"

"A few days ago," she shrugged nonchalantly, but the idea of it all made her heart hammer in her chest. She felt as if she could grow to love Logan one day. Her motives were more selfish aside from that. He offered permanent protection and the promise of the taste of sweet revenge. No one else could or would offer that to her and because Logan had, she had decided she would marry him. Of course, the idea of marrying someone she'd known for nigh on a month made her giddy and nervous. Still, everything in this world was quick and unpredictable and Astrid had no home to return to like Claire. It was best she decided where she fit in before the opportunities in front of her slipped between her fingers.

He reached forward, his fingers grasping her waist, he lifted her in a jubilant spin, nearly falling over from lack of balance in his stupor. Astrid yelped, surprised by his actions, but no one paid them any mind from the courtyard. "Ye'll be a Mackenzie and Leoch will be yer home," he explained, as if she hadn't figured that out. "Ye willnae be a guest, but family."

"I know," she smiled, entertaining his exuberance. I feel kind of bad that most of my motives are not as emotional as his. He feels we have a connection, which is why he wants me. Did she feel the same way? Astrid got along with Logan well, perhaps they did compliment one another, but it was not like her to fall swiftly. All her life she had been convinced that Mr. Right was waiting out there and she'd know when she met him. This was before she knew that she was destined to fall through the stones into the past. Now, everything that she had once taken for granted in modern times worried her. For the most part, laws were not on her side and people feared fire and brimstone. If she said something wrong, she could be suspected of being a witch and would be burned. With her grasp of knowledge of the future and what Claire had shared with her thus far, she didn't want to rouse the same suspicion the English woman had.

Nothing was certain in this world and Astrid needed to solidify her foundation before a terrible storm blew in. Right now, it was sitting upon sand and it would only take one wave to suck it into the ocean.

"Ye dinnae seem very happy," Logan observed, startling her from her thoughts.

"Oh, I-" her words drew off as she glanced up at him. "I always thought that I would marry the person I loved, when I was ready. I'm still coming to terms with my decision."

"I willnae force ye," he frowned, clearly dismayed by her reaction.

"I have made my decision. I think that with time, I will grow to love you. It's just… this is all rather fast and I-"

"Ye need security," he finished, nodding solemnly. She felt her heart break slightly at the expression on his face, as if he had been hoping she felt as passionate about the two of them. Logan took a moment to recover before he smiled at her. "Yer in another country with nowhere to go. Ye want to be safe and I offered ye thon."

"Ja," she whispered, still feeling terrible about using him solely for that.

"I ken we'll be a fine couple," he said brightly, the discontent vanishing.

"Neither of your uncles put you up to this, did they?" she wondered.

"I willnae lie, Colum did suggest it, but I was already thinking of it. Yer a bright lass, yer talent speaking tongues would be very useful for the Mackenzie Clan. Besides, my uncles hae suggested women before and I've turned them down. Yer the first to really grab me interest," he said, brushing some of her hair back from her face.

I hope you're right and you don't grow bored of me like Catriona or the other women, Astrid thought, her heart fluttering slightly at his touch.

"Logan! Come to the hall. Jaime's been pulled in!" someone exclaimed, garnering all the attention in the courtyard.

Logan's countenance shifted immediately, his heavy brows furrowing and a cold frown cutting across his face. His eyes flashed, dark and stormy like the winter seas of Norway and for a brief moment, Astrid was afraid. "Come Astrid," he ordered sternly, placing a hand underneath her elbow, dragging him along with her with little heed that his long strides outpaced her severely. She had to run to keep up with him.

Why is there a ruckus about Jaime having to make his oath? He's one of the men just like the others, she thought, sneaking glances up at Logan, wondering why he was so perturbed about his cousin going to swear an oath.

The atmosphere had shifted inside, the reverie and jolliness was gone, replaced with a staunch, tense air that could be cut with a knife. She could see the curly red head of Jaime at the front of the hall, having been forced up before Colum. Rather than everyone smiling and waiting for Jaime to give his word, they were terse and hostile.

"I come to ye as a kinsman and ally, but I have no vow to give as my oaths are pledged to my own name," Jaime's words caused all the men in the hall to reach for their swords at his indignation. He continued on even words, carefully. "I instead offer my obedience as a kinsman and Laird, as long as I may be on Mackenzie land."

The balance teetered delicately on a pin, everyone's eyes on Colum to gauge his reaction. If this went sour, Jaime would be killed right there. Colum smiled and brought the quaich forward for them to drink. In the blink of an eye, the hall broke out into the loudest cheering yet, the bagpipes wheezing as the mood did a complete 180 and reverted to what it had been.

Confusion mounted in Astrid's head and she looked to Logan for an explanation.

"Jaime's mother was a Mackenzie. Had he sworn an oath to Colum as a Mackenzie he would hae claim to the Laird-ship, just as Dougal and I," Logan explained, his expression still hard. "He was supposed to be hiding in the stables. I dinnae understand what he is doing out."

Astrid glanced around the room and spotted Claire, noticing the guilty look on her pale face. "I think I do, excuse me," she pat Logan on the arm and left his side, wading through the crowd of people to approach Claire. "What did you do?" she demanded.

Murtagh, who was beside her, gave Astrid a reprising look.

"I was out for a stroll," Claire answered reproachfully.

"Drop the act lass, she kens will enough thon ye weren't," Murtagh snorted.

"You tried to escape, didn't you?" Astrid inquired sharply, her eyes flashing and her hackles rising. "You almost got Jaime killed! Do you care for no one but yourself!?"

Claire gave her a dark look, but held her composure where Astrid lost hers. "We shouldn't talk here," she muttered.

"Fine, let's go to the Surgery to talk about this," Astrid hissed through clenched teeth, leaving Murtagh behind in the hall as they left toward the dungeon closet that Claire called home.

There was a bitter silence between them the entire way to the door leading down the stairs. The moment the door was shut behind them, Astrid mustered the haughtiest look she could. "Why didn't you tell me you were planning your escape for tonight?"

"Do I have to tell you everything?" Claire countered, crossing her arms. "You're content to stay here, but I am not."

"How were you going to get to Craigh na Dun? Do you have maps? Do you have a weapon to protect yourself? Did you think you could steal a horse and make it there on luck? Claire, this world isn't as kind to women as the one we came from!" Astrid exclaimed, her frustration boiling over at the woman.

Claire gave her a peevish glare, but fell down into a chair, averting her gaze like a child who was being scolded. "I need to get back to my husband. Not that you would understand, you're little more than a girl."

"This isn't about me Claire," Astrid frowned. "I thought you trusted me. Trusted me enough to let me know you were going to try and escape tonight."

"What point was there? You would not have come with me," Claire quipped.

"I could have helped you. I don't take pleasure in seeing you miserable."

"It's different for you! You cannot even begin to fathom what it has been like for me here. Not while you're flouncing off with the heir to Leoch and Clan Mackenzie."

Astrid let that sink in and pressed a hand to her brow. "You're right," she said evenly. "I cannot imagine what it is like because they've been pampering me, grooming me to stay here permanently. I'm to marry Logan."

Claire's resentment and frustration guttered out. "You're marrying Logan?"

"Ja, I decided it would be safest for my future if I did… And I might be able to help you after I do," Astrid told her, knowing that it might take longer than Claire wanted, but it would be safest if Astrid secured her passage back to Craigh na Dun.

"Are you certain you're not rushing into it? I know Logan is very handsome but… Aren't you worried he'll be unfaithful?" Claire asked gently.

Astrid snorted, her worst worry about all of this being brought to the surface. "What other choice do I have? Wait for another opportunity to arise? I can only hope he's as honest as he seems."

"Don't give him a reason to wander from your bed then," Claire told her with a righteousness that made Astrid shiver. She hadn't taken Claire for a very sexual woman, but then again she didn't know Claire that well. She was married, so she definitely had her fair share of understanding of the other sex. "You have been with a man before, right?"

"J-ja!" she stammered, averting her eyes from Claire's as they seemed to gaze deeply into her soul. "I dated here and there, but nothing serious. I spent too much time studying. I figured once I graduated and got a job, I could focus on starting a family. I simply had flings. Nothing of lasting memory."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Claire smiled, making her feel more like a child even though she was certain that Claire was only a few years older than her. 'What are you, twenty-one?"

"Twenty-four," Astrid sniffed.

"You must have been really focused on studying. Reminds me a bit of my husband," she chuckled, but a sad smile graced her features as she said that. "Just don't lie around and do nothing. That's probably the best advice I can give. Eventually, a man will grow bored with that. Touch him as he touches you. I can hope that he'll do the same for you"

Astrid didn't know what to expect the next day or who would know of the arrangement. If Logan remembered, Colum and Dougal would be among the first to know. After that, who else knew would be up to how quickly gossip spread. The day following the gathering meant that most of the castle would wake up late and hung over. Astrid began her morning routine like usual, waking up early to do her workout before washing for the day.

However, she didn't expect Mrs. Fitz to not be there that morning. Instead, another maid that she hadn't spoken with before brought in tea and bannocks for breakfast. She had soft flaxen hair and a long face, but Astrid thought her well mannered enough as she brushed her hair and stared into the looking glass.

"What's your name?" Astrid asked her kindly.

"Sorcha, mistress," the girl said mildly, by the hearth where she had laid the tea pot and food.

Astrid liked to meet and speak to the castle workers as she could. If she intended on staying there, it was better to know everyone in the castle. "How long have you worked at Leoch, Sorcha?" she took a ribbon and tied her hair up in a high ponytail.

"Me whole life," Sorcha answered thinly.

Rising from her seat, she trailed over to see the young woman, giving her a gentle smile.

"Yer to marry young Logan, miss?" she asked gingerly.

So word has spread to servants I barely know too? That was quick, I suppose he hasn't forgotten. "Ja, I am. Would you like to have tea with me?"

Sorcha reached down to pour the tea. Her hand quaked slightly as she did. "Ye dinnae belong here miss," her voice quivered just as the pot in her hand.

Claire said there was more than one girl. "Are you in love with Logan too?" Astrid asked her.

Sorcha raised her eyes, burning like copper flames as she glared at her. "We all love him only to have some stranger take him away. Maybe if ye weren't so bonnie-"

Astrid's brows shot up as she saw Sorcha's wrist jerk. In a moment, Claire was able to reach forward and grab the pot as Sorcha meant to throw the hot tea at her face. The top clattered and the scalding liquid seeped down Astrid's neck and chest. She couldn't stop herself from screaming, shoving the pot back into Sorcha's hands as her body throbbed. "GÅ UD!" she shouted, causing Sorcha to jump back. "Kum ud, inden jeg dræber dig!"*

Sorcha dropped the teapot and scuttled back and toward the door, leaving it ajar as Astrid wheezed. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she ran to her bed, desperately using the quilt to blot her throat and the top of her chest. Ever since she had arrived, burning seemed to be the method of choice for harming her. Even as she wiped away tea from her chest, the skin beneath her dress ached all the way down to her navel.

"Whit happened here?"

Time had escaped her and when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that Dougal was standing over her. The moment she turned, Dougal frowned, turning to observe the toppled pot.

"Can ye stand?" he asked her, offering a hand.

Astrid took it, her body shuddering as she did. In a flash, she was violently ill, vomiting all over the floor. Swaying, Dougal grabbed her by the shoulders to try and steady her. Realizing she wouldn't be able to walk, he picked her up, carrying her out of her room. The world spun above her, she was unable to see where they were going. She expected down to the Surgery, but she didn't recognize the people they passed or the path they took.

"God, what happened to her?!" Claire's voice pierced the cloud as Astrid was laid down on the bed in the Surgery. "She's in shock."

"I dinnae ken whit happened, but I think she was scalded with tea," Dougal said. "Astrid, did someone throw tea at ye?"

Astrid managed to nod slowly, unable to feel her body.

"These are at least 2nd degree burns," Claire told him. "Astrid do you know who did this to you?"

"S-Sorcha. She said her name was Sorcha."

"Sorcha? Sorcha is a scullery maid, she shouldnae been delivering tea to Astrid," Dougal frowned. "Do ye need anything for her?"

"No, I'll disrobe her and apply salve to her burns. She's going to be ill for a time, since the burns are on her chest," Claire said, Dougal's footsteps receding out of the Surgery. "I'm going to cut your dress off to see the damage."

Astrid nodded numbly, closing her eyes, trying to take a deep, steady breath. "How bad is it?" she asked, keeping her eyes closed.

"You're burned from the collar down. Your throat is a bit raw, but the worst is right over your breasts and ribs," Claire informed her.

"Do I still have nipples?" Astrid asked.

Claire snorted in spite of herself, trying to hold back the laughter. "Yes, you do… These burns will likely heal most of the way, but you may have faded scarring. Like… the appearance of a permanent sunburn. No hair will grow in these regions since it penetrated your dermis layer."

"Guess I don't have to worry about hairy nipples," Astrid groaned, garnering more laughter from Claire.

"You have a certain… sense of humor," Claire managed, applying salve to her raw skin.

"I suppose all of us Scandanavian people do…" she winced at the pressure on her skin. "Norway declared itself neutral during the war if I recall correctly…. I wasn't anywhere near being born yet, but I wouldn't have supported Germany even if I were alive. I don't know if that's any consolation.."

"It is," Claire informed her. "Yes, Norway remained neutral, as did most Scandanavian countries. The Germanic are a different story. Could have used a linguist like you during the war."

The sound of footsteps ended their conversation about WWII and Claire rose, closing the curtain to hide Astrid's nudeness from whoever was visiting.

"What happened?" it was Logan, his voice fierce as he spoke to Claire.

"She was scalded by hot tea. Fortunately the burns were below her collar for the most part, she will recover in a few weeks and may retain some scars, as the water was hot. Due to the area where she was burned, it made her ill, just as a severe sunburn makes someone ill. I would like to monitor her for a couple of days before releasing her. As I said, she'll be ill and I would like to be around when she is," Claire explained.

"Can I see her?"

"No," Claire told him sternly. "I am still treating her wounds and she is indisposed. I do not believe she would want you to see her in this state."

Logan remained silent for a moment before relenting. "Very well, I will let ye take care of her. Let me ken when she is good enough to visit."

"I will," Claire promised, Logan's footsteps receding out of the Surgery.

Claire returned, continuing her work where she had left it.

"The girl who threw the pot of tea at me… She was aiming for my face. I think she was in love with Logan too. She said 'we all love him' like there was a group of them that were trying to win his affections," Astrid told her, recalling the exchange with brutal clarity. "I managed to catch her, avert where the tea was going so it hit my chest. I knew there was Catriona, but… I didn't think in accepting his marriage proposal I'd be attacked by these fanatical groupies."

"Jealousy is a terrible thing," Claire sighed, brushing back some of her hair. "You didn't deserve this if that is what you're thinking."

"I'm just worried… How many more of them are there? And will they ever stop?"

"The Mackenzies seem to be keen on their honor. I doubt Sorcha will get away unscathed from this altercation. She'll be an example for the others," Claire said, her voice shrewd and cold.

"I don't want them to hurt her. She's just heartbroken, I don't think she would have done it if she knew-"

"Astrid she was trying to maim you. You said she was aiming for your face."

"She's just a girl," Astrid told her desperately. "I can forgive. I'll heal up, just like you said."

"For all the bite and quiet fury you have, you're too kind Astrid. Kindness like that will not see you through this world. I thought you knew that," Claire frowned, beginning to wrap up her injuries.

"I am merciful when I see fit. Killing everyone who crosses me will earn me more enemies than allies," Astrid countered, her head throbbing just as much as her wounds. "Is there anything you can give me to sleep? I still feel terrible."

* Astrid tells the girl in Danish to get out, she then follows up with "Get out or I will kill you".