Gawain's jaw almost dropped at the sight of Flora after so many years. His guess was correct as she had gotten married to the son of an ally clan’s Laird, which was why Gawain couldn't exactly complain about her presence. He figured if he could ignore them all, he would be fine.
"Come sit, Gawain. The dance is about to begin." Caillen was almost drunk, Gawain could see it. His brother never did so well with ale. His wife did better if Gawain could remember properly. Gawain took the empty seat, which was shoved between Flora and Emer. A tight squeeze for him, but he only had to endure it until the dance was over.
"Gawain, it's been so long." Gawain almost groaned at Flora's voice. He wanted to keep conversations between them minimal, but things did not seem to be working in his favor tonight.
"Aye, it has."
"I was looking forward to seeing ye again after yer brother told us ye would be in attendance." Gawain frowned at her words before directing his glare to Caillen who raised his cup to hide his face. "I’m sorry about what ye had to go through. It was, should I say painful fer me to see ye leave. Ye were always good in me eyes."
Gawain felt something hitch at his throat when he locked eyes with the man seated next to Flora, presumably her husband. He quickly raised a cup to his lips to hide his face as Caillen had done. "Ah, thank ye, Flora. It is pleasant to see ye again."
Flora beamed at him, sitting so she was facing him as she fired question after question while Gawain did his best to answer them as politely as he could, even going as far as dragging Caillen into it a few times but the Laird was smarter and untangled himself from the mess his brother was desperately trying to rope him into.
"Gawain, will ye be staying at the clan from now on?" Flora asked and Gawain could feel his brother's eyes on him as the Laird waited for a respond as well. His wife chatting next to him did not seem to interest him any longer.
Setting down his cup, Gawain opened his mouth to answer when the loud change in music cut him off. He was grateful for that intervention but he wondered what dance was it that warranted music that loud? One of the most unpleasant things Gawain could think of was a band of drunk men stumbling and tripping over nothing to the sound of the music, he did not want to witness that.
The table engaged in small talk, nothing that interested Gawain even though he had to answer the few questions that were directed at him. Instead, he kept an eye out for Davinia, spotting her a few times when she aided a servant here or there. She never met his eyes, she never saw him. Was he that easy to miss? Before he could drive into his thoughts, the music changed. The rhythm, much faster. Definitely not from their lands, he was sure. He watched the dancers troop in, the tanned skin showed each dancer as a foreigner. He had guessed they were travelling entertainers.
As the dance began, he caught sight of the main dancer, the only female. It was the merchant from outside the gates he had encountered earlier in the day. His mind went to the jade hairpin he had bought from her, and he got to his feet alerting his brother. Gawain waved Caillen away as he made his way out of his hall toward his chambers. He wanted to give Davinia the hairpin after festivities. He knew it would look beautiful with her green dress.
The halls were silent, the guards shot him strange looks as he walked past them. As much as he tried to push it to the back of his mind, he knew his clan's reaction to his presence would continue to eat at him. There was nothing he could do to speed up time and make them accept him again. Even if he could speed up time, was there even the slightest possibility that they would ever look at him in a different light? He had been branded a traitor by his father, the very thought of him made his clan members uneasy. How could he even serve the clan as his brother's left hand when the clan didn't trust him.
"Is there something on your mind, sir?" Gawain flinched, his hand going to his dagger as he turned around to face the person only to be met by Ida, who had taken a cautious step backward. "My apologies, I did not mean to startle you, sir."
Gawain let his hand fall back to his side. “Why are ye not at the hall?"
"I tripped and fell earlier, so miss had me stay back. The servant quarters are empty save for me, so I decided to take a walk." Gawain nodded before he resumed his walk with Ida by his side. “You seem bothered by something, sir. "
"Nae. ‘Tis nothing."
"But if it has a frown on your face, it is not to be brushed aside. If you think I’m a maid and do not want to share anything with me, I can go get Miss Davinia. You two seem close."
"How would ye ken."
"Well...a friend of mine said she caught you two in the store." Gawain chuckled at the memory.
"Aye, I remember her. She could barely say a word before she ran off. But nae. Do nae call Davinia. She had enough to deal with tonight. Me insecurities should nae be added."
"Shall I get the Laird then?"
"If he’s nae drunk enough, ye may." Ida pursed her lips as they came to a stop by a balcony, Gawain resting his back against the wall and meeting her shy eyes. "Ye certainly are new here." Ida perked up and nodded.
"It's my second year here."
"Aye. If ye had been here much earlier, ye wouldn't be following me around like this."
"My apologies. When I saw you, you just looked...a bit upset."
"Because I’m. I’m upset about the fact that ye only follow me about because ye do nae ken what I did or why I was exiled. Ye only ken I’m the Laird's brother, and that's it. Ye should be with yer friends, covering yer mouth as he says all sorts of things ye’re here and ‘tis only because ye do nae ken me." Gawain looked over the balcony into the bushes below. The ugly croaking of a toad added to the rhythmic chirping of crickets. The bush rustled slightly before a toad hopped out and plopped right into another. If he wasn't at the castle, he would probably be at the little inn in the lowlands where he had been staying for a few weeks before he got the letter.
The little inn had a tavern below it where he would sit with a pitcher of ale, watching different men and women make merry until he was red-faced and drunk enough to join them. They would drink into the wee hours of the morning before he would drag himself to his room and fall asleep on the floor, ignoring the bed entirely. He would wake before noon and set out into the village for work or sit by the pier with the fishermen who would show him how to reel in a fish or cast a net.
On his way back to the inn, he would pass the house of an old widow who always had a loaf of bread ready by her window to cool off. He would greet her, she would invite him in, treat him to a meal while she talked about her younger days. He would return to the inn and sit in his usual spot with his pitcher of ale and let everything okay over once more.
Those people knew nothing about him. He was simply 'the highlander' to them. They knew nothing about his past, and they were not afraid of him. That did not hurt him as they were simply random village people. As much as it upset him to realize it, he had been fine in exile. He had enough to travel over the oceans, never come back. He made enough to settle down in the lowlands and lead a normal life with those village people. If he had stayed, he wouldn't have to be reminded constantly of how much his clan despised him.
He despised the fact that he had to go about pretending like those stares and whispers did not cut him deep, but what could he do? He still needed to get on their good side. Was their good side even worth seeing? He did not have to go through so much with strangers, why should he go through that with his own clan?
