Vivien clung to the stones of the ramparts above her, tears streaming down her face, mingling with the rain to create a mess of hot and cold running down her cheeks. Her hands were slipping, the slick stones causing her to lose her purchase. She scrabbled to hold on tighter, to move her hands to where she could grasp the stones better.
Sharp shards dug into her palms and fingers, but Vivien ignored the pain as best she could as she cried out Kieran’s name.
She did not know if he had survived the blast or if he was still somehow alive.
“I am here,” she heard him call out from the other side of the gigantic hole that had been blown into the side of the battlements, “I am coming; hold on.”
Vivien could hear the desperation and terror in Kieran’s voice, and then, finally, his white face was staring down at her, all color leeched from his skin, as he leaned forward and grasped her around both of her forearms. Kieran began to pull her up slowly as she scrabbled with her legs against the side of the walls to aid him.
It felt like an eternity before he had finally pulled her away from the edge and back to safety.
Vivien collapsed into his arms, sobbing as she kissed him – she covered every inch of his face in kisses, not caring that her face was filthy and covered in tears. She did not care if anyone saw her kissing him.
She could only think of what she could have lost but had somehow kept.
“Oh, thank God,” she murmured against Kieran’s lips at last, when she felt she could breathe again.
“Are ye all right?” he asked, searching her eyes, his hands running up and down her arms, trying to warm her up. It was a futile attempt, but Vivien smiled anyway. It was far too wet and cold for him to do anything about it, but that he was trying to do anything at all meant more than she could ever express.
“I am, all because of you,” she beamed up at him, as she hoped her smile told him everything that she could not put into words at that moment.
“I thought I had lost ye,” Kieran said, his eyes belying the pain he felt at the thought of losing her.
Vivien touched his face gently with her hand, her smile fading slightly as she looked up at the man she loved.
“You will never lose me.”
* * *
The next few days passed in a blur as the English retreated from Stone Castle, and Kieran’s men brought Vivien’s belongings to Castle Kyle of Lochlass. She began to settle in as best she could in those early days, but Tilly helped her acclimatize as best she could. While some of his clansmen and women were still reluctant to accept her fully, most of them had changed their minds and welcomed her with open arms.
Her part in the defeat of the English forces – not once, but twice – was lauded throughout the clan until no one could really deny that she was not a true patriot to the Scottish cause.
As the days passed, more and more of the clan’s women began to approach her, seeking her friendship and to swear their fealty to her as their Laird’s consort.
Lord Stone’s body was found dashed on the rocks far below Stone Castle; Kieran was not happy at the thought, but at least he knew the man could not come back and cause more problems for Vivien.
His clansmen were exhilarated at their overwhelmingly positive win over the Englishmen. News of their victory spread far and wide throughout the Highlands until requests began to arrive at the castle from other Lairds who wished to meet with Kieran.
When he had received multiple requests, Kieran decided that the most prudent – and time-efficient – thing to do was to hold a council with the other Lairds to find out what they wanted from him.
The Lairds had all settled in their seats in the great hall at Kieran’s castle; it had taken some time as many of them had not seen each other in months. Pleasantries had been passed around while the whisky flowed freely. Some of the Lairds who had not seen eye-to-eye in the past grumbled at each other until others stepped in and brought that sense of jovial companionship back to them.
By the time Kieran arrived and took his seat on the dais, his fellow lairds were laughing and smiling for the most part. Only a few looked surly – but then, they probably had not had enough whisky to drink yet, Kieran laughed to himself.
“Lairds,” he said, standing up so that he could be heard over the laughter and conversation, “I am pleased tae see ye all here. I have heard only rumors as tae why ye all wished tae meet with me. As such, I will open the floor tae ye all – I will let ye lead this meeting if that suits ye all.” He looked around at all the Lairds filling the hall; their smiles and nods of agreement were all he needed to continue with his plan not to confront them head-on about their lack of support and interest in his cause when he had first approached them.
Laird Angus MacOg finally stood up and cleared his throat.
“I will start the proceedings, if ye all agree.” To the nods of those closest to him, Angus continued.
“I believe we all made a terrible error in judgment when ye first approached us for support, Laird Kieran.” He inclined his head to Kieran, who nodded gravely, no hint of a smile on his face. His disappointment at that meeting still rankled him badly; that his own people had deserted him in his hour of need did not sit well with him still.
Several Lairds agreed, calling “ayes” across the room.
“I believe we have seen the error o’ our ways. Yer decisive victory against the Englishmen has shown us many things. Firstly, ye ken what yer doing.” A chuckle rippled across the lairds seated comfortably in Kieran’s hall. He allowed himself a small smile, awaiting the crux of the matter to become known.
“Secondly,” Angus continued, “I believe we have been reminded o’ the strength o’ the Scotsman’s hearts – we are a proud people, we dae not bend easily, dae we?” Angus shook his head. “It is our own stubbornness that can cause us tae look the other way when our own brothers need our help. An’ this is why we’re really here, is it not?”
