[Discontinued] the love of the earth || Outlander

xvii. the first fables of faith fraser

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
↳ the first fables of Faith Fraser

TW: Mentions of child marriage & Abuse

━━ ◦ 11 May 1753 ◦ ━━

Twelve Strikes For Nine

The fire was the only thing lighting the room; the rain battered down hard on the brittle glass windows; one would think that they were to break, but they never did; not in the 200ish years since their construction had they cracked under the weight of every seasonal may storms. They Never cracked.

A young redheaded girl sat at one of the polished timber desks, flipping through a large leather book that smelt like it had been gathering dust for 50 years. She drummed her fingers on the pages trying to find a specific french translation of a phrase. This room was where she could be found almost every night for the past five months, learning languages, mathematics, reading and writing.

This was the deal she made; if she was to do Sir Oliver Hastings' bidding, she wanted to be educated the same way every other boy her age; it was a struggle to find a tutor who would teach a girl 'it's not natural' they would say. Or at least that is what she had heard; she was too busy being 'trained' during the daytime; Faith still wasn't one hundred per cent sure what she was training for, but she trusted that Mr Hastings knew what he was doing; he hadn't killed her just yet.

Most days, Faith was too exhausted to think about any else once the day was up. She hadn't thought about her family since that miserable Yule, but now it was different, it was nearly midnight, nearly her ninth birthday, and she had nothing to say for it. She wasn't upset that there was to be no celebration, nor was she upset that anyone would wish her a happy birthday. she wasn't even worried that Mr Hastings was aware of her birthday, though he did think Faith was two years older than she was, and yet still wouldn't care.

See, she was upset because she knew that today would be even worse for her family; she had been made aware, on Yule once been, that the redcoats told her family that someone had killed her. The redcoat that sold her had managed to cover his tracks and make it seem as if they were both dead, killed outside of Edinburgh; she had always wondered how her family mourned back at Lallybroch, but she guessed she would never know.

Faith had not heard from Prue since the letters she received at Newcastle. Faith also felt guilty about not having enough time to write or think about her. Prue was the only one who knew she was alive; she hoped she would hear from her soon.

Faith could hear twelve strikes in the distance; she sighed and closed her book "Happy birthday to me", she whispered before shuffling her books into a neat pile and trudging off to bed. "Happy birthday to me."

━━ ◦ 9 July 1753 ◦ ━━

His Faux Knife