James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sawny) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
all_inclusive2015-02-08 07:11 pm
sawny) wrote in all_inclusive2015-02-08 07:11 pm
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They say that some men are born to battle, are born with black powder on their hands and the keen edge of sword an extension of their bodies. It makes their hearts beat faster and their blood run hot and drives them to madness that can only be slaked on a field against a foe.
Jamie isn't one of those. Oh, aye, he's good at it - damned good at it, which has saved him more than once. But he's no one of those that likes it and the last thing he wants is to be fighting a losing war alongside the fool pretender, the Bonnie Prince, when he could be safely wrapped up with his wife in a crofter's house somewhere.
It's a simple life he wants and yet he seems thrust into this one instead, this destiny that's only going to end in bloodshed on a field in April. It's only October now, so he's got some months to spare but it's not long enough. He means to delay his inevitable death if he can, more for Claire than for himself.
It's to that end that Jamie goes about stealing the wheels and pins off all of Cope's cannons in hopes he won't be able to mount a defense. The English have them outgunned, to be sure, but without ordnance and muskets, the Highlanders know the land and know every hill and burn. They'll have the advantage once the firepower's gone. At least, that's what Jamie hopes.
He means to make his way back to camp to show Claire his prize, to give her all the cotter pins off the English cannons and show her that he's found a way to rout the English at least this once but he gets twisted in the dark. When he pushes back the flap of the tent to greet her, it's a richly-appointed corridor he sees, not the smiling face of his wife.
"Och, aye, what's this, then?" He's covered in soot from head to toe and with his hair long and his kilt and plaid askew, he looks for all the world an outlaw. He is, actually, if the broadsheets are to be believed and he thinks he ought to be every inch a braw Scottish brigand if he means to escape the English yet again.
"What devilry is this?" There's a door behind him, pushed shut, and when he tries it, it won't open.
Damn.
Jamie isn't one of those. Oh, aye, he's good at it - damned good at it, which has saved him more than once. But he's no one of those that likes it and the last thing he wants is to be fighting a losing war alongside the fool pretender, the Bonnie Prince, when he could be safely wrapped up with his wife in a crofter's house somewhere.
It's a simple life he wants and yet he seems thrust into this one instead, this destiny that's only going to end in bloodshed on a field in April. It's only October now, so he's got some months to spare but it's not long enough. He means to delay his inevitable death if he can, more for Claire than for himself.
It's to that end that Jamie goes about stealing the wheels and pins off all of Cope's cannons in hopes he won't be able to mount a defense. The English have them outgunned, to be sure, but without ordnance and muskets, the Highlanders know the land and know every hill and burn. They'll have the advantage once the firepower's gone. At least, that's what Jamie hopes.
He means to make his way back to camp to show Claire his prize, to give her all the cotter pins off the English cannons and show her that he's found a way to rout the English at least this once but he gets twisted in the dark. When he pushes back the flap of the tent to greet her, it's a richly-appointed corridor he sees, not the smiling face of his wife.
"Och, aye, what's this, then?" He's covered in soot from head to toe and with his hair long and his kilt and plaid askew, he looks for all the world an outlaw. He is, actually, if the broadsheets are to be believed and he thinks he ought to be every inch a braw Scottish brigand if he means to escape the English yet again.
"What devilry is this?" There's a door behind him, pushed shut, and when he tries it, it won't open.
Damn.