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Niall watched Tovie leave and rose from his chair. He picked up the sword, and the elders recoiled. Their fear amused him. He was done with killing for the day, and a part of him hoped that he was done with killing for the rest of his life. He regarded them with a cool stare and then left the chamber, walking outside to declare to the village that he had returned and was their laird now. His voice boomed out, becoming even louder than the crackling fire that burned. Those who remembered him most likely wondered what would change, while others were filled with questions. There were people to be mourned, and he would see that the proper rites were followed while he gestured for his clan to come into the village and make themselves at home.

Wary glances were cast their way, and he knew it was going to take some time for the clan to adjust to their new surroundings, as well as for his brother’s people to accept these newcomers. Old carts trundled forward, and people wearing ragged clothes were glad at the smell of food and the sight of fresh water. There were a few disagreements as some of his people rushed forward to fill their aching stomachs and slake their first.

“We are one people now!” Niall cried out. “Ye may think that we are strangers, but we are nae. We hae traveled long and far and wide. All the roads we hae taken hae led us back here, tae my home. My blood is in this soil, and these people are as much of a family as I hae ever known. Ye will treat them with respect. We are nae two clans, but one,” he said, linking his fingers together as he said this to punctuate the feeling. He knew it was going to take time for people to get over the initial difficulty, but time was one thing they had in abundance now. It was with relief that he looked at the shelters and the safe haven, which was a far cry from the moving camps they had had to set up during their travels. It had cost a lot for him to bring them here, but he had finally succeeded, and now he could rest.

He told Drew to watch over everything and ensure that there were no fights. Then he fetched some meat for himself and disappeared into the castle. As he walked up the spiral stone staircase, he brushed his fingers against the walls and gazed at the tapestries that were still hanging. The color had faded in them, but they were vivid in his memory. It was as though being here again brought the feelings from the past back in a rush of color. He remembered running through these halls as a boy, filled with glee, pretending that he was running from some monster. The cavernous hallways were always filled with laughter, but now they were silent and solemn.

It was with a heavy heart that he walked to the chamber that used to be his. It had been changed over the years and was now used as a storeroom. Chests and crates filled the room from wall to wall, and the air was stale. It seemed to melt away in front of his eyes, though, as he remembered what it used to be like, how he used to dream of being the laird one day, just like his father.

Then he had begun to see his father for the man he truly was, and his ambitions had changed.

He turned away from this room and made his way to the room that had been his father’s. There was a wide bed inside and a desk near a wall. He lit a candle that filled the room with a soft glow. He stood at the window and gazed out toward the mountains. When he was younger he used to stare at them for hours on end, his mind always conjuring stories about the strange things that existed in the wildlands. His imagination had been fueled by stories that his mother had told him, stories of wondrous beasts and fearsome monsters. Those stories had died with her. He had gone in search of the truth and had seen things that still chilled his heart. How he wished he could have told her what he had found.

But she had been gone for a long time, and not even her spirit lingered in the air.

He closed the shutters and then placed his brother’s sword on the table, while also placing his own beside it. They were the same length, similar in so many respects, but each with its own differences. He supposed it was much like the differences between them both. There was only one difference that mattered now, though: he was alive and Fraser was dead.

He doffed his armor slowly, wincing at the small aches and biting pains that peppered his body. As he changed into his nightclothes, of which there was an abundance in a small wardrobe, he placed a hand on his body and gasped as he felt bruises and old wounds that still caused him trouble. He then sank into the bed, clasping his hands across his chest. He closed his eyes after finding it strange that he wasn’t seeing the stars above him. So many years had passed since he had left this place, and now he was back here again. It was strange, and yet in other ways, it felt so comfortable, as though a part of him had always been left in this place, and now that he was back, he was complete again. It wasn’t something he particularly wanted to consider as he had never felt he belonged here, not after his mother had died. Fraser had. That boy had always acted as though he owned the place. A smile flickered on Niall’s lips as he thought about times when they were young, when the world was innocent, and they could play together without worrying about power, ambition, greed, or jealousy. It was a time when they could simply be brothers, and that was enough.

It was a good thing to think about, and for a time, he could pretend that Fraser was still alive. If only there had been another way to come back…

* * *

Niall awoke with a start, flailing his arms. It took him a couple of moments to remember that he was in a comfortable bed with a roof over his head, in a strong castle where no predators could sneak in. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead that he wiped away. The dream had been intense and wasn’t one he cared to repeat. Deep breaths helped calm his fervent heart, and he rose, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He went to the window and opened the shutters to gaze out upon the morning. Dew glistened, and the fresh air was cool and cleansing. The sky was a bleak blue, and he knew it was going to be strange getting used to this sight, waking up to the same thing every day rather than other new surroundings.

He gazed at his sword as he passed the table, letting his fingers rest against the hilt. Usually, it was his constant companion, but now that he was in a safe place, he was not going to need it again. He moved away from it without picking it up and instead found himself standing in front of the wardrobe. His father’s clothes were still there, and as he pulled them out one by one, he remembered just how similar he had been to his father in his size and shape. It wasn’t surprising that Fraser had neglected to throw these things out because he had never been one to trouble himself with such things. Niall was going to have to get some new clothes woven for him, though. He had spent so long trying to escape his father’s shadow; the last thing he wanted was to start looking like the man. He was already sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothes. Was it every man’s destiny to end up exactly like his father?

Then he thought about Fraser. No, some men’s destiny was to die.

The sober thought rattled around his mind as he left his chamber and went to fetch some breakfast. As he did so, he thought about the woman his brother had married. She was a spirited young woman indeed, with a sharp tongue and a strong sense of who she was. He pitied her for having fallen under the spell of his brother. At first glance, she seemed to be too intelligent to end up with Fraser, and he wondered what kind of marriage they had had. He didn’t think she should suffer, though, and intended to free her from her responsibilities here. She could return to her own home and forge a new life for herself. It was clear she wasn’t going to be happy here, and there was no reason why she should be miserable.

He fetched a warm bun and some jam from the kitchen and then went to see the elders.

“It’s as though yer da haes returned!” one of them said, not realizing that it was exactly the wrong thing to say. He was fortunate that Niall had not brought his sword with him, otherwise he might have been tempted to teach a harsh lesson.

“I wanted tae speak tae ye about Fraser’s wife,” he began.

“Tovie,” one of the elders said, exchanging a glance with each other.

“Aye. I was surprised tae hear that she made a claim tae be laird. Is this something that ye discussed with my brother?” Niall asked.

“Nae as far as I know. She haes always haed an interest in the running of the clan, though,” another of the elders said.

“Well, I dinnae think there’s any reason for us tae keep her here. She is never gaeing tae get what she wants, sae I’d like tae arrange for her tae be taken back tae her family as soon as possible,” he said.

The elders remained silent for a moment and shared silent glances as though they had developed their own unspoken language.

“Is there a problem?” Niall asked in a demanding tone, as none of them were saying anything directly to him.

Eventually one of them spoke, although none of them seemed as though they wanted to tell Niall the news. “Well, Laird, when ye came back tae lay claim tae the clan, ye took everything that yer brother haed…including his wife. She’s yer wife now,” he said.

Niall’s brow furrowed as he processed the words. This hadn’t been expected, and he wondered how he had missed such a thing. His lips pursed, and he shook his head.

“This cannae be.”

“Aye, it is. It’s the way of tradition. She is yer wife and yer responsibility,” the elders said.

Niall did not know if this was some sick trick they were playing on him, some kind of revenge that would lessen the sting of losing Fraser, but it was cruel. He had not come here intending to marry or to steal away a wife, and he didn’t think Tovie was going to be overjoyed at the news either.