What Fate Has To Offer
By: Aelia O'Hession
Disclaimer: I do not own ant of the Braveheart stuff. Wish I did, but you can't have everything that you wish for, right? Well, here you go! Oh, I have written another story in the Newsies fandom, if any of you every read there. Enjoy!
Chapter 1: The Captives
A ragged group of captives trudged through the thick mud that served as a road. Never once did they complain because they feared the whip. These people feared not the pain, but what the whip symbolized; cruelty and oppression. It had been many weeks since these captives had seen their home. The hard, cold, bare earth was far from the rolling hills of green with roaring coastlines. Every once and a while, the whip cracked over their heads, drawing them from that sweet dream.
One such dreamer was a young woman. Long, brown hair with read highlights threatened to escape the braid that bound it. The more the cold wind blew, the greater the chance wisps of hair had of escaping. Her storm blue eyes started to water; partly from the wind and partly from longing.
"Ceara," whispered an old woman in Gaelic. "Stay more alert. You must be strong. If these English gits see weakness, they jump all over you." A small smile on the woman's face showed that she told the truth.
"Grandmother, please," whispered Ceara in the same language. "I'm not showing weakness, I just want to go home. Either that or curled up in a nice safe, warm corner with a book far away from these damn English!"
Overhead, the dreaded whip cracked demanding that they be quiet. The only one of the captives who was exempt from the strict silence was a young boy. Barely three years old, this boy was a bright bubble of happiness. That little head of flaming red hair knew not why half his family, including his parents, was dead and that the remaining was being taken away from home.
"Myechiyel," Ceara said quietly to that little head. "Try to sit still. Trina doesn't appreciate it too much when you keep moving in the saddle."
"Aunt Ceara, sing me a song. Please."
"Alright, but you must promise to keep still and quiet." Coming to walk beside the horse, Trina, Ceara began to sing a popular song that was a favorite of hers and her nephew.
"Come by the hill to the land
where fancy is free.
And stand where the peaks met the sky
and the rocks reach the sea.
Where the rivers run clear and the bracken
is gold in the sun.
And cares of tomorrow must wait
till this day is done." (Loreena McKennitt- "Come by the Hills")
"You there, be quiet," barked one of the English guards that led Ceara's family. Quite simply, the entire group made a sad sight. What remained of Ceara's family looked more sturdy and hardy than the English soldiers that led them. Ceara, her younger sister Ebekah, their grandmother Diedyia, and Myechiyel, nephew of Ceara and Ebekah, were all that was left of the once large O'Noclahn family.
For many weeks this unusual group traveled the cold land of England. The soldiers would grumble about how miserable things were while still not allowing the O'Noclahn's any small comfort like a fire. For warmth, Ceara, Ebekah, Diedyia, and Myechiyel all huddled together under their thread bare cloaks. Their tattered clothes provide little more. Yet, through all of this, they stayed strong and never gave in. Ebekah had the worst time of all because she was worrying about whether or not her betrothed, Savin, was still alive. It pained Ceara and Diedyia to see their kinswoman like this.
"She shouldn't have to deal with this," Ceara said one night. "Of all the people in the world, this had to happen to her. Oh how I hate how Fate deals what schemes they have. Curses on them all!"
"Ceara, be careful of what you say. I know Fate isn't fair and seldom is, but you have to deal with what they play. I know that you mean though; she's not the type of person who can deal with hard situations like this easily." Diedyia stopped speaking and looked up at the night sky. "Have you any idea of how long we've been traveling?"
Ceara shook her head. "I lost count after the second week. All that I can be sure of is that Midwinter is coming soon." Sighing, she turned away and looked off far into the distance. Something told her that she was supposed to be here. She argued against it, but the feeling was persistent. As she slept, dreams took her to may places. Some she recognized like home in Ireland, but others were strange. She tried to hold on to home, but her dreams had other plans. One dream showed her a large royal looking castle and a city surrounding it. She was brought inside this castle to see its lord and his family presiding over some matter. Ceara was then whisked away to another castle and city, but this one was less royal looking. She was shown a young lord, a few years older than herself standing on a wall, with a look of absolute boredom. Before she could question what she was seeing, the dreams left her whispering, This is your destiny. Do not be afraid to follow it. She was then left in a restless sleep.
The next morning, Ebekah roused Ceara early before the sunrise. "Dear sister of mine, please tell me that there is a small glimmer of hope that Savin is still alive. I need to know."
Something inside of Ceara told her that there was no hope, but then, watching the sun rise above the barren hills, she felt hope. "Ebekah, listen to me. There is hope, but you must be patient."
"But I can't!" Ebekah shrieked. "Do you realize how hard this is for me?" Tears flooded her eyes, threatening to leak out.
"Ebekah, I know this is hard, but you must be strong. Do you understand why our family has been able to stay free for so long? It is because we are strong and that we have never lost hope, even in the darkest of times." Ceara realized that she was practically quoting a speech Diedyia had given her. Ebekah soon realized this as well and the two sisters began on a bout of uncontrollable laughter.
"What, under the Great Mother Goddess are you two cackling about?" demanded Diedyia. Seeing the look of frustration on their grandmother's face made them laugh even harder. "Hush up you two. Do you want to wake our friendly English captors and make them angry and short tempered?" A note of sarcasm rang in Diedyia's voice even though she was completely serious.
"That makes a difference from what they normally are how?" piped up Myechiyel.
Diedyia turned her attention to scolding Myechiyel, allowing her granddaughters to pull faces that only young girls would dare to pull.
"Alright you lot," grumbled one of the soldiers. "Let's get moving. If we keep a steady pace, we'll reach Londinium in four days time."
"And that's four more days of misery with you lovely people," muttered Ebekah. Turning to Ceara she asked, "Strength, huh? If it's a family trait, I don't see it in me. But then again, you don't have the family brashness that comes along with said strength."
Ceara opened her mouth, about to protest, but Ebekah cut her off. "Yes you are free-spirited and strong-willed, but you aren't as impulsive as the rest of us. Be thankful, that's the trait that we're all jealous of; your serenity."
For the next four days, the company was forces to endure the cold winter snows. Back in January when they had been captured, the O'Noclahn family had been settling in for the winter. Since then, they endured a one and a half week march across Ireland to Baile atha Claith(Dublin) where boarded a boat to bring them to England. A two week journey had brought them four days outside of Londinium.
By: Aelia O'Hession
Disclaimer: I do not own ant of the Braveheart stuff. Wish I did, but you can't have everything that you wish for, right? Well, here you go! Oh, I have written another story in the Newsies fandom, if any of you every read there. Enjoy!
Chapter 1: The Captives
A ragged group of captives trudged through the thick mud that served as a road. Never once did they complain because they feared the whip. These people feared not the pain, but what the whip symbolized; cruelty and oppression. It had been many weeks since these captives had seen their home. The hard, cold, bare earth was far from the rolling hills of green with roaring coastlines. Every once and a while, the whip cracked over their heads, drawing them from that sweet dream.
One such dreamer was a young woman. Long, brown hair with read highlights threatened to escape the braid that bound it. The more the cold wind blew, the greater the chance wisps of hair had of escaping. Her storm blue eyes started to water; partly from the wind and partly from longing.
"Ceara," whispered an old woman in Gaelic. "Stay more alert. You must be strong. If these English gits see weakness, they jump all over you." A small smile on the woman's face showed that she told the truth.
"Grandmother, please," whispered Ceara in the same language. "I'm not showing weakness, I just want to go home. Either that or curled up in a nice safe, warm corner with a book far away from these damn English!"
Overhead, the dreaded whip cracked demanding that they be quiet. The only one of the captives who was exempt from the strict silence was a young boy. Barely three years old, this boy was a bright bubble of happiness. That little head of flaming red hair knew not why half his family, including his parents, was dead and that the remaining was being taken away from home.
"Myechiyel," Ceara said quietly to that little head. "Try to sit still. Trina doesn't appreciate it too much when you keep moving in the saddle."
"Aunt Ceara, sing me a song. Please."
"Alright, but you must promise to keep still and quiet." Coming to walk beside the horse, Trina, Ceara began to sing a popular song that was a favorite of hers and her nephew.
"Come by the hill to the land
where fancy is free.
And stand where the peaks met the sky
and the rocks reach the sea.
Where the rivers run clear and the bracken
is gold in the sun.
And cares of tomorrow must wait
till this day is done." (Loreena McKennitt- "Come by the Hills")
"You there, be quiet," barked one of the English guards that led Ceara's family. Quite simply, the entire group made a sad sight. What remained of Ceara's family looked more sturdy and hardy than the English soldiers that led them. Ceara, her younger sister Ebekah, their grandmother Diedyia, and Myechiyel, nephew of Ceara and Ebekah, were all that was left of the once large O'Noclahn family.
For many weeks this unusual group traveled the cold land of England. The soldiers would grumble about how miserable things were while still not allowing the O'Noclahn's any small comfort like a fire. For warmth, Ceara, Ebekah, Diedyia, and Myechiyel all huddled together under their thread bare cloaks. Their tattered clothes provide little more. Yet, through all of this, they stayed strong and never gave in. Ebekah had the worst time of all because she was worrying about whether or not her betrothed, Savin, was still alive. It pained Ceara and Diedyia to see their kinswoman like this.
"She shouldn't have to deal with this," Ceara said one night. "Of all the people in the world, this had to happen to her. Oh how I hate how Fate deals what schemes they have. Curses on them all!"
"Ceara, be careful of what you say. I know Fate isn't fair and seldom is, but you have to deal with what they play. I know that you mean though; she's not the type of person who can deal with hard situations like this easily." Diedyia stopped speaking and looked up at the night sky. "Have you any idea of how long we've been traveling?"
Ceara shook her head. "I lost count after the second week. All that I can be sure of is that Midwinter is coming soon." Sighing, she turned away and looked off far into the distance. Something told her that she was supposed to be here. She argued against it, but the feeling was persistent. As she slept, dreams took her to may places. Some she recognized like home in Ireland, but others were strange. She tried to hold on to home, but her dreams had other plans. One dream showed her a large royal looking castle and a city surrounding it. She was brought inside this castle to see its lord and his family presiding over some matter. Ceara was then whisked away to another castle and city, but this one was less royal looking. She was shown a young lord, a few years older than herself standing on a wall, with a look of absolute boredom. Before she could question what she was seeing, the dreams left her whispering, This is your destiny. Do not be afraid to follow it. She was then left in a restless sleep.
The next morning, Ebekah roused Ceara early before the sunrise. "Dear sister of mine, please tell me that there is a small glimmer of hope that Savin is still alive. I need to know."
Something inside of Ceara told her that there was no hope, but then, watching the sun rise above the barren hills, she felt hope. "Ebekah, listen to me. There is hope, but you must be patient."
"But I can't!" Ebekah shrieked. "Do you realize how hard this is for me?" Tears flooded her eyes, threatening to leak out.
"Ebekah, I know this is hard, but you must be strong. Do you understand why our family has been able to stay free for so long? It is because we are strong and that we have never lost hope, even in the darkest of times." Ceara realized that she was practically quoting a speech Diedyia had given her. Ebekah soon realized this as well and the two sisters began on a bout of uncontrollable laughter.
"What, under the Great Mother Goddess are you two cackling about?" demanded Diedyia. Seeing the look of frustration on their grandmother's face made them laugh even harder. "Hush up you two. Do you want to wake our friendly English captors and make them angry and short tempered?" A note of sarcasm rang in Diedyia's voice even though she was completely serious.
"That makes a difference from what they normally are how?" piped up Myechiyel.
Diedyia turned her attention to scolding Myechiyel, allowing her granddaughters to pull faces that only young girls would dare to pull.
"Alright you lot," grumbled one of the soldiers. "Let's get moving. If we keep a steady pace, we'll reach Londinium in four days time."
"And that's four more days of misery with you lovely people," muttered Ebekah. Turning to Ceara she asked, "Strength, huh? If it's a family trait, I don't see it in me. But then again, you don't have the family brashness that comes along with said strength."
Ceara opened her mouth, about to protest, but Ebekah cut her off. "Yes you are free-spirited and strong-willed, but you aren't as impulsive as the rest of us. Be thankful, that's the trait that we're all jealous of; your serenity."
For the next four days, the company was forces to endure the cold winter snows. Back in January when they had been captured, the O'Noclahn family had been settling in for the winter. Since then, they endured a one and a half week march across Ireland to Baile atha Claith(Dublin) where boarded a boat to bring them to England. A two week journey had brought them four days outside of Londinium.