I am in a very good mood tonight. :D So...I feel like posting a wee snippet of Fredericks Queen....(IT HAS NOT BEEN EDITED YET! LOL) Frederick Mackintosh knelt before the altar of the tiny kirk. The late morning sun streamed in through the windows and door bringing with it a pleasant summer breeze and the sound of children’s laughter. A year ago, the sound of children laughing and playing would not have tugged so tightly at his heart. Many changes had taken place around Graham keep over the past six months. But those changes were slight in comparison to the changes taking place in Frederick’s heart. His chief, Rowan Graham, had married a beautiful and feisty auburn haired woman, right after Hogmanay. Rowan and Arline had settled into married life quite comfortably. Any previous worries over Arline’s ability to conceive were laid to rest a few short months ago when Rowan and Arline announced her pregnancy. No one was happier to hear that bit of news than Rowan’s five-year-old daughter, Lily -- born from his first marriage. The wee Lily wanted lots of sisters and voiced her opinion on that subject quite frequently. Clan Graham’s numbers had increased by nearly three hundred men back in January. The newcomers were lowlanders, used to a less structured and less honorable way of living. Still, they were grateful for the home Rowan had offered them. It was the love Rowan and Arline openly displayed for each other that began to make Frederick question his future. Frederick had never given much thought to having a wife and children. He’d been far too busy enjoying life as a bachelor to give much thought to anything save his drinking and whoring ways. But seeing how Rowan had gone from such a lonely life, to one filled with contentment, happiness, and hope for the future, it gave Frederick pause. He was nearing thirty summers. Mayhap it was time to think of those things. ’Twas why he was in the kirk. He was praying for a wife. Aye, it shocked him to his marrow when he made the self-discovery a few weeks ago. ’Twas as if someone was whispering in his ear; Frederick, ye need a wife. At first, he’d done his best to ignore it, to fight the voice to the bitter end. He tried gallantly to drink the faint murmurs out of his head. He went on a four-day debauched, drunken escapade. The story of his exploits would undoubtedly live longer than he would. But, ’twas all for naught. No matter how much whisky he consumed or how many wenches he took to his bed, the voice was still there. Incessant, unrelenting and growing louder. Frederick, ye need a wife. Fighting didn’t help. Sparring didn’t help. Drinking and whoring didn’t help. The voice was still there. Frederick, ye need a wife.
Posted on: Thu, 30 Jan 2014 03:44:00 +0000
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