Work Text:
The Mad Dash Home
“Mama!” Jeremiah “Jem” Mackenzie called out as he, his cousin Fanny, and his little sister Mandy bolted across the front yard toward the house.
“We’re back! We didn’t get lost!” Fanny panted after him, already trying to mitigate how much trouble they were in with her very no-nonsense aunt.
“It’s cold, and there are wolves after us!” Mandy cried.
Obvious exaggeration that it was, it still did not help! On the way home, the older children had indeed found it hard to tell what might have been a distant canine howl, and what was Mandy’s terrified whining! Her ability to make such noise, as well as her insistence upon doing so, had been a deciding factor in her brother and cousin letting her come along on a late afternoon hike through the woods, out to the “fairy cottage.”
It was an old, leaky shack, and the first building constructed on Fraser’s Ridge, located about two miles away from the main house. Cousin Buck, the big, lovable ruffian who normally occupied the place, had gone off to fight at Kings Mountain with their grandfather’s militia. Jem had been prepared to go with them, arguing that he was a year older than his uncle Fergus was when he fought at Prestonpans in ‘45. He left out, of course, the part about Fergus having sneaked off to join the battle after having been forbidden to go!
His Grandda Jamie could not hide the pride in his voice even as he declined the offer. Jem had protested, insisting he could be of help, and that he did not want to be left behind. It was Cousin Buck who took him aside, gave him a solid clap on the back, and entrusted him with the care of the women and bairns left on the Ridge.
“The lasses will be relying on you and Keziah Beardsley to do the trapping and fishing,” Buck explained, and Jem did not doubt that his cousin was speaking in all seriousness, not just placating him. “And of course, there’s the Fairy Cottage, as the bairns like to call it.”
He gave Jem and the others permission to play there while he was gone, so long as they made sure it was still standing upon his return! Fanny had wanted to go after she finished her chores this afternoon, and with Mandy resolved to shadow her cousin everywhere she could, the three had set out together for the spontaneous hike. Everything had gone just fine on their visit today, but the two older children had not anticipated the sun to disappear so quickly behind the thick rows of trees. The orange rays of late afternoon light were giving way to a heavy, dusky blue that obscured anything more than ten feet in front of them.
With a five-year-old clinging to their hands and beginning to panic, Jem and Mandy had to move fast! As the forest turned into a maze of trees casting ever longer, darker shadows and the sun rapidly dying behind them, every whine and chitter of nearby animals sounded bigger and hungrier.
………………….
The Selection
Back at the “New House,” the family compound in constant construction for over a year, Brianna Mackenzie stood on the illuminated front porch, the glass lantern’s still flame on the table beside her. The door to the house was open, and the light from inside the great room’s wall sconces and hearth limned her tall form from behind. Her children and her niece slowed their approach until they were walking at a normal pace up the steps.
Once she’d stomped her way up the porch steps, Mandy made like a magnet toward her mother’s skirts, hugging her tightly around the legs. Brianna wrapped her arm around her, and lovingly pushed a strand of hair off her face.
“Mandy, your cheeks feel like ice!” she exclaimed, then swung her head to face the other two while still addressing her. “Go find Auntie Rachel and the wee boys. She’ll get you some supper and help you prepare for bed.”
After Mandy went inside, Brianna looked at her son and niece with sheer Hell on her face, but could not sustain it for long. She extended her arms and gestured for both Jem and Fanny to draw close. They stepped into her embrace and let their shoulders drop with a mutual sigh.
“I’m so glad you all are safe!” She said breathlessly. “But, you know better than to just slip off like that!”
Brianna planted a kiss on Jem and Fanny’s foreheads in turn, then released them and took a step back, her head in a hawk-like tilt as she prepared to detail exactly how much hell they had wrought. Unable to meet her eyes, their gazes lowered toward her crossed arms. Despite their obvious relief at being home, the object she’d been clutching in her hand the entire time could not be ignored any longer.
Having violated the very well-established rule about letting someone know their whereabouts before going off on their little expeditions, as well as not being properly prepared for said expeditions, AND having gotten Mandy involved, Jem and Fanny were now facing the promised penalty. In some way, the object in Brianna’s hand was an acknowledgment that she saw them as no longer children, but responsible agents.
Responsible enough, in any case, to move past the juvenile process of going over her knee for a spanking. For this punishment, they would have to be trusted to present themselves, bare arsed, in a submissive, prone position, and remain that way throughout!
It was one of Brianna’s father Jamie’s old sword belts. The square copper buckle was tarnished and dented from the man’s eventful life, making it all the more reassuring and solid in her palm. The thick brown leather was worn and cracked in places, giving more pliability and less of a stiff snap! were it to be laid across some errant soul’s backside for their transgressions.
That’s not to say it wouldn’t be painful, but the strap was selected from among her options with an eye toward carefulness. She decided some time before their homecoming that if the children had not gotten themselves lost or killed, there would be consequences doled out to Jem and Fanny for their carelessness, but how to carry it out required more discernment. Much like those on the man himself, the scars and weather marks of the belt’s age reflected a sort of authority and wisdom earned over time.
Brianna had not gotten this far in her life untested, but any additional bolstering of her spirit was welcome at the moment. Taking the belt off the peg at the back of her parents’ wardrobe, it felt like a sacred relic in her hands, a family artifact from which she could draw strength to attend to life’s less pleasant duties. While heavy and more than a little intimidating, it was also easy enough to wield that Brianna felt confident she could carry out a thrashing with competence, despite her relative inexperience in such matters.
At eleven and thirteen respectively, Jem and Fanny were old enough to face accountability, but still more than young enough to evoke a sentimental compassion in Brianna for their silliness and poorly-thought out adventures. Nevertheless, the two young miscreants understood things perfectly well.
“And on top of everything else, you dragged Mandy out into the woods without her cloak!?” Brianna commenced with the scolding portion of their homecoming. “It’s not enough you all disappear in the middle of the afternoon without letting anyone know where you went or when you would be back!”
“No one dragged anyone, Mama! She followed us!” Jemmy protested, but fell silent again when he dared to peek up at his mother’s face.
“Yes, she followed you all the way out to who-knows-where!?” Brianna snapped. “Since no one had any idea where the three of you had gone! Lizzie and Rachel saw you go off the path and head east when they were returning from the trading post, but you disappeared through the trees before they could even call out to you!”
“We just lost track of time, Auntie,” Fanny explained. “The Fairy Cottage isn’t that far away.”
“So that’s where you were headed,” Brianna said, giving an appraising nod and a venting sigh. “Just because it’s a place you are technically allowed to go does not mean you can disregard everything else you’ve ever been told! And you both know that.”
Fanny spoke up first this time. “I was the one who wanted to go. Jem knows the way better than I do, so I convinced him to come along. We did not mean to put Mandy in harm’s way.”
“Whatever you meant to do, you did put all of yourselves in danger,” Brianna said, relaxing into the clear cadences of authority.
She gestured toward the open front door with a swing of the belt strap, then gave it another wrap around her palm, studying the length of the loop created for ease and functionality.
“Well, let’s get inside and get things sorted out.”
…………………
Jem
Sorted out.
It almost would have been better if his mother had just said what she meant. He and Fanny were about to get their arses thrashed. Rachel, her sons, and Mandy had taken their supper into the surgery on the other end of the house. Rachel gave his mother a brief frown of concern as she shepherded them out of the kitchen, plates in hand, but did not intervene further.
Whatever words she chose, Jem did not want to whine or fash about it like a wee lad. If his mother felt it was necessary to punish him for his (admittedly foolish) actions, Jem would show the proper respect and dignity, and submit to her will. Or else, there was a good chance he’d get a double dose from his Da and Grandda once they got back!
But, that did not make it any less embarrassing to drop his breeks in front of her. He took his position as quickly as he could, leaning forward and grasping the sides of the sturdy wooden chair.
“After this is all done, I want you to go stand in the front room and face the wall across from the hearth until Fanny and I are through,” Brianna said, her voice tight with determination. “Afterwards, you’ll both go apologize to Mandy for taking her so far into the woods unprepared, then come back down for a bite of supper before bed.
“Is everything understood?”
“Yes, Mama,” Jem half-mumbled, but got it out clearly enough.
“And what are you not going to be doing again?” she asked, and Jem suspected she was stalling for time as she adjusted the length of the looped belt in her hand to workable length. “Hmm?”
Jem let out a sigh that turned into a slight groan as the coolness of the air in the kitchen began to hit his upturned bum. “I won’t leave without anyone knowing again, or take Mandy without making sure she’s prepared, too. Me and Fanny both!”
He could hear a small chuckle his mother tried to hide behind clearing her throat. She always did that when she knew Jem was trying to demonstrate his own maturity, but she could not see past the image of him as a wee lad, the image a mother’s eyes never stop seeing. Having owned up to his mistakes, there was nothing left to do but brace for the inevitable.
“Good. You understand you’ve earned every bit of this, so we’ll get on with it.”
The leather belt landed across his backside with a fast whap! and the rising of a searing pink stripe. Jem’s fingernails dug into the wooden frame of the chair under the cushion at the second, and at the third, he lost control of his tongue. A small “Owww!” escaped, and he felt his mother’s free hand come to rest on his back.
Forging ahead through any hesitation she may have had, she powered through the delivery of ten good smacks across Jem’s bottom, aiming to pile them as close to the sit spot between buttocks and thighs as possible. It would bring the punishment to an end quickly, and Jem supposed he was grateful for that much. Still, it was sure to leave a sufficient reminder when he tried to sit down for the next day or two!
His father and grandfather had belted him before, and crying out in front of them had always furthered his feeling of shame and regret. While his mother was a formidable woman, with a good bit of strength behind her swing, this was hardly the worst thrashing of his life. Nevertheless, it was surprisingly hard to take quietly. Jem grunted and yelped through the whole thing, his eyes prickling with tears.
His mother did not say anything further once it was done and she had given him permission to pull his britches and drawers up. Buttoning up, Jem sniffled and cleared his throat, the silent kitchen making the noises sound more pathetic and echoing. His linen drawers smoothed out the worst of the rough homespun outer fabric, but there was no way to keep from irritating the sore spots.
Jem ran his hand through his hair, pushing the shaggy locks of his bangs away from his forehead and bounced on his toes a few times. Fidgeting away the urge to whimper and dissolve into an immature mess, he pulled himself together enough to turn and face Brianna directly. He was far too old to go to pieces just because his mother spanked him, especially when he knew it was fair. Still, that did not stop him from sagging against her shoulder in relief when she reached out to him, returning her embrace.
“My boy,” Brianna murmured, patting the center of his back in a slow patter, like the last raindrops drained from a thundercloud. “You all are going to stay put, hmm? No more disappearing acts?”
Jem nodded and muttered in the affirmative. In a habit he must have developed before he could even talk, he matched the patting with his own hand just above his mother’s shoulder blade. She had been frantic when she’d hugged him and Fanny earlier on the porch, but this was a moment of calm reconciliation.
He tried to remember the last time he had let his mother hold him like this, any lingering moment where he sought out maternal comfort and peace. It must have been some time, because she felt smaller than he remembered.
Because I am bigger now. The words slipped down from Jem’s mind and settled deep in his chest. He had wanted to join the men in battle, believed he was big and strong enough to do what must be done. And yet, Jem still had not quite outgrown his mother’s arms. He supposed he could live with that for a while longer.
………………………
Fanny
Fanny understood right away what her aunt meant by “sorted out,” so it was an exceptionally long walk from the front step into the house. Everything slowed down as she pondered the benefits and risks of arguing or attempting to evade punishment.
It had not done her much good the previous time she had gotten herself into a fix since coming to live here! Her Grandda Jamie put up with no nonsense, so when she let loose her best swearing at him and tried to run away, her only reward was more time spent over his knee, and more swats of his palm across her backside! He was not going to let her be disrespectful and defiant, but he did not leave her to cry on her own afterwards, either. Drawing her into his arms, her Grandda’s size and strength had been wielded as easily for comfort as for correction.
Being as close a copy of Jamie Fraser as a daughter could be to her father, her aunt Brianna had always shown her kindness and patience. At times, Fanny had even thought her aunt might treat her more like a child than anyone else on the Ridge! How would she regard Fanny after this affair was all done?
I suppose I will know soon enough, she thought, with a heavy weight dropping down her throat into her gut. A belt could be a harsh punishment if used with unrestrained rage. Or, it could simply sting something awful and be a loud, humiliating exercise in trying not to cry too much with your bare arse in the air!
At the brothel where Fanny had lived for most of her childhood, it was also almost never used for reasons other than the madam’s rage or a cull’s particular tastes. Fanny understood the difference between the things that went on there and what her aunt intended, but it was a minor consolation.
Brianna instructed Fanny to remain standing in the front room while she and Jem went into the kitchen. She was to wait there while Jem took his punishment in the semi-private conditions, then the same courtesy would be extended to Fanny.
With no time wasted, the sounds of reckoning carried well enough through the air into the front room. Fanny faced the wall, but could see flashes of pictures across her mind’s eye as they were conjured up by what sounds she heard.
There was a scraping sound of chair legs on the floorboards; heavy ones, so it was probably Grandda’s chair from the head of the table, with the wide seat and curved back. A bit of final pleading on Jeremiah’s part, followed by his mother’s assurance that he’d earned every bit of what was to come, and Fanny envisioned the dimple in his chin growing deeper as he frowned in resignation.
She cringed at each loud smack of leather reaching its target. Hearing Jemmy hiss through his teeth and yelp a little after the third swat, her hands drifted to the back of her skirts in a protective instinct to cover her own backside. It was almost too easy to imagine how Jemmy must be at the moment; bent over, hands and elbows flat on the seat, cringing worse than she was, with a red-face and increasingly reddened arse, his trousers dropped to his ankles!
Whatever she managed to envision as things continued, Fanny knew deep down there was no real way to prepare. All she could do was try to be…
Damn, what was the word she’d read, in the book by Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor? Stoic, that was it.
The book itself had drawn her attention among the various titles on the shelves in the downstairs study for the many notes written in its margins. Jamie Fraser’s sister had sent this particular copy from the library at Broch Tuarach, their family home in Scotland. It had once belonged to their own mother. Ellen Mackenzie Fraser, who would be Fanny’s great grandmother, had clearly read and reread Meditations until she had passages committed to memory.
Beside a line that read “You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength,” she had written a note, dated “summer, 1715.”
Endured the test of my virtue, Ellen had written. And all is well.
Fanny’s great-grandmother had been tested in some way, and found strength in a thought first written down hundreds of years before that. It did make sense. She could not change the fact that Aunt Brianna had determined punishment was necessary. But, Fanny could chose how to endure it.
For Ellen, all had been well in the end, whatever test it was she had to endure. It could be so for Fanny, too.
When Jem emerged from the kitchen, face crimson and eyes glistening with a great effort not to go to pieces, he made a quick pace to the corner, a few feet away from her. Fanny darted a glance in his direction, and their eyes met for an extended moment. Jem’s frown was even deeper than she’d imagined, with his lower lip jutting into a pout that was bearing the weight of his entire face, but he managed an encouraging nod at her.
Her aunt, seemingly resolved to get through this quickly, said little to her after she was called into the kitchen. Fanny pushed through her impulses to argue or throw a fit, knowing whatever ability she had to chose, she wanted to chose to exercise her own fortitude. Ten across her bum with the belt with not a pleasant prospect, but Fanny tried to face her own reckoning with some quiet dignity.
She managed to do this all the way up to her own approach to the chair, and the lifting of her skirts to just the top of her legs. At that moment, a small tendril of guilt burst through the hardened wall she’d constructed around her inner parts. Her eyes welled up with tears, and with her stoicism already shaken, they were dripping onto the dark wooden seat before the first swat had even landed!
Baring her backside completely, Fanny leaned over. She hoped her ancestor, if she somehow saw this humiliating episode, would not think less of her for shaming herself.
The first lash of the belt laid a lick of fire across the widest, fleshiest part of her bottom, and the threads of memory connecting her to the stoicism of Ellen Mackenzie unraveled. It was another, somewhat closer relative who’s blood was taking over as Fanny shrieked like a ban sithe and bolted back to standing.
“OWWWW! JESUS H. ROOSEVELT CHRIST!” The strange, semi-blasphemy Grandma Claire had a habit of blurting out in frustration or anger poured from Fanny’s lips before her mind had even fully formed the thought to do so, but it once it did, it rolled off her tongue with ease.
“Frances Anne Pocock!” Aunt Brianna snapped, not quite yelling, but being more than sharp enough to hit Fanny’s ear and travel straight to her gut. “Lift your skirts back up and get back over the chair. Stay put, and we’re going to start again.”
It took two more tries, and a threat from her aunt to take her across her lap and hold her down for double the amount of swats, for Fanny to find the stillness inside her. Letting her tears fall, she managed to stay in place, bent over and bare-arsed for ten in a row. She may not have endured her punishment quietly, but she endured it. That would have to be stoic enough.
“Alright, Fanny, you can get up now.”
Aunt Brianna’s voice was quieter than before, but Fanny could hear the constriction at the back of the woman’s throat. Perhaps stoicism had not been so easy to maintain for either of them. Smoothing her layers of petticoats down over her legs, Fanny pressed her lips together to avoid cringing too much as her hands brushed over the rising welts across her bottom and the back of her thighs.
As she turned to look at her aunt to ask permission to go, she caught the woman make a fast, blotting motion with the back of her hand over her eyes. Brianna laid the folded belt on top of the dining table, and the iron hard scaffolding she’d been holding herself upon began to loosen and wobble. Her shoulders dropped forward, and her face softened into a sympathetic smile.
“That was absolutely awful!” Brianna said plainly, reaching out and holding Fanny by the upper arms as she met her eyes.
“Yes, it wa-as!” Fanny agreed, wanting to sound assertive, but unable to hide her own emotion as a small whine escaped her lips, followed by an embarrassing sniffle. “I’m sorry to have made you do it.”
“Well, I never want to have to do that again, do you understand?” Brianna said, managing a dewy-eyed smile, while the tightness in her voice became a crackle at the first syllable of “understand.”
Fanny nodded, looking down at the floor. For the first time since she came into the kitchen, the aroma of stewed pheasant and sweet carrots from the pot hanging over the cooking fire caught her attention. Her stomach gave an anticipatory gurgle, and she imagined Jem must be hungry, too. With all the shenanigans they’d gotten into, their own stomachs had been of little notice. Home, safe, and having faced both correction and reconciliation, sitting down to their supper was all that was left to do.
Well, Fanny thought, with a quick rub through the back of her skirts. Perhaps I’ll stand!