Triallaire

Passing the Torch

2 March, 1759

Cìosamul Castle, Isle of Barra, Scotland

EAIDSIDH RUADH POV

Late on the night of the second of March, Eairdsidh Ruadh was scanning over yet another document, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve the pain of a massive headache he had. Beside him was a cup of cold peppermint tea, made for him by Thora Fowlis in an attempt to relieve the pain, but it didn't do much for him. In the last few months, the headaches that Eairdsidh Ruadh got kept getting worse and worse, lasting for longer periods of time - this current one had been going on for three days, at least, and worsened with each passing moment. He let out a heavy sigh and set down his quill, glancing across the room at a portrait on the opposite wall.

The portrait had been painted by his mother, Ealasaid Fowlis, second wife of Hamish Fowlis, the sixth Laird of Cìosamul. It was a portrait of Eairdsidh Ruadh and his wife, Mairead, painted a few weeks after their wedding in 1704. Mairead was young and beautiful at nineteen years old, her brown hair curled at the top with a small piece hanging down. Eairdsidh Ruadh, at sixteen, was wearing his Fowlis of Barra plaid, the first Laird of Cìosamul to do so, as they had been adopted in the seventeenth century as the official dress of Scotland. He closed his eyes, the sound of the music played at the ball that was held in his honour the day he ascended to his Lairdship back in 1703, when he was fifteen years old, suddenly playing in the background...

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20 December, 1703

It was a cold December day, a week after Eairsdsidh Ruadh had turned fifteen. He was congratulated on his ascension by all who came through, which included nobles of Clans MacDonald and MacNeil, nobles of highland clans, and even English redcoat captains, who had likely come to scope out the young Laird. Fools, they were - they likely thought of him as naive and easily susceptible to suggestion. "Chin up, my lad," said his mother, having noticed that he was slacking a little in his posture. "Ye are a Laird now, Eairdsidh. A Laird must always hold his head high, so as te be seen by all those around him."

"I think I do that fine on my own, a Mhàthair . Everraone's had somethin' te say aboot my hair colour," Eairdsidh Ruadh replied, thinking back to how, ever since he had been born, he had basically been called 'Red Archie' due to his hair colour.

"Here comes the Chief of Clan Fraser," said Ealasaid. "Do you recall his name?"

"Simon Fraser, Master of Lovat," said Eairdsidh Ruadh, narrowing his eyes at the snake of a man as Lord Lovat made his approach.

"My Laird, how wonderful it is fer ye to finally take on yer duties as the Laird of this grand estate," said Lord Lovat, a mischievous grin on his face as he bowed stupidly and then righted himself. "I expect you will continue to honour the agreement I had with yer father, as your... delightful... mother has?" Eairdsidh Ruadh scoffed at this oafish man.

"I'll do no such thing," Eairdsidh Ruadh replied. "My father was a fool te make such an arrangement wi' ye. Pay ye in gold so yer men dinnae kidnap my sisters and cousins and force them te wed ye? I think not." Lord Lovat's mischievous toothy grin faded, and his eyes narrowed.

"The terms of our agreement do not explicitly state such-" Lord Lovat began, but Eairdsidh cut him off.

"I dinnae care what the terms of yer agreement state. I am Laird, and I declare that our agreement has ended," Eairdsidh said to him firmly.