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The Highlander and the Witch

Chapter Text

They stood together on the hill looking over Fraser’s ridge. The man’s black hair had thinned with age, while hers had turned from a dark brown to gray.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" The woman asked, grinning in her lover’s direction. "Claire, Jamie, and Angus will all have our hides."
Her husband made a Scottish noise in his throat.
"Aye," he grunted, leading her over some loose rocks in their path. "It’ll be worth it, a nice way to celebrate our anniversary, ye ken?"
"Sixty years," the woman said with a grin.
"Aye, sixty years of misery and putting up wi’ yer naggin." He adopted a high-pitched tone. "Rupert, make me my breakfast, Rupert, rub my back, Rupert, fetch me some coffee!"
"Don’t make me get my wand out," the woman threatened with a grin.
"Och, I’m so scared," Rupert mocked. "What are ye going to do, turn me into a rabbit for yer amusement?"
"I just might," the woman replied.
"Yer a feisty wee witch, and I love ye for it," said Rupert fondly.
"Yeah, we were both nearly killed because of that," Alice said with a sigh. "I should have hidden my Lakota heritage more, we could have been more discreet with your lessons, and the fact you wanted to share in my culture.
The two of us nearly payed the price for that."
"Nay," Rupert replied, kissing her. "I was so eager to be a part of yer world, that I wasna discreet enough myself. I was so in love wi’ ye I wanted to experience everything, I still am. I dinna want to hear ye talking about hiding your heritage again, ye should be proud of where ye came from, and the traditions that ye hold." They turned as the sound of pounding footsteps came up behind them.
"Rupert and Alice McKenzie, what the bloody hell do you think your doing? You are both scarcely out of your beds due to pneumonia, and here you are, out in the freezing cold and for what if I may ask?"
"Christ woman, keep yer hair in, we’re coming," said Rupert.
"You had better be, Angus and Jamie were about to send out a search party for you two." Rupert and Alice started down the hill, as they remembered where it all began, on a fairy hill in Scotland.