1. Chapter 1 - Kaitlyn

CHAPTER 1 - KAITLYN

MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, THE KING AND QUEEN’S CHAMBER, STIRLING CASTLE - JUNE 16, 1291

I woke up with a start.

My head was on Magnus’s warm chest. He said, “Wha?—?”

“Sorry... didn’t mean to wake you.”

He tightened his arm around me, sleepily, but then fell right back to sleep.

I breathed in the scent of my medieval husband. I had grown used to him like this, his look over the next few weeks and months would grow wilder, his hair would knot, his beard would lengthen. I would wonder, was it the air that caused this wilding? Or was it the weight of the past, everything was more dire here, heavy and significant, it coarsened the men’s skin, lengthened their hair, roughened their manners. Even their laughs would grow deep, their meetings solemn with responsibility, their movements measured. Living in the medieval world, there was always something on a modern man’s mind: the curses of the age, the bitter chill of the rooms, the shadowy gloom of the corners, the drab taste of the food — everything carried more consequence.

A humorous story told around a fire in a castle in the dark ages always felt just so... medieval. I breathed in again.

The dark heaviness would be terrifying, if not for Magnus's warm, comfortable, familiar presence.

Then, as I was thinking about how comfortable he was, he grunted and rolled like a big bear, grasping my waist, pulling me close, his head nudging against my breast, getting comfortable as if I were his pillow

I wrapped my arms around his head and kissed the top of his head. He was fast asleep again.

I wasn’t, I was peering out around our room, dimly lit by the fire in the hearth. The room was unfamiliar as I was newly arrived. I wasn’t used to servants who lurked around at all hours, a wee bit oppressive in their helpfulness. I had asked that the canopy not be closed around our bed, but I had changed my mind now. Beyond the bed were shadows that made me uneasy.

A darkness lay behind the wardrobes containing the bottom layer of our costumes: my dresses and cloaks and Magnus’s outer layers were kept in another room and would be brought in when we needed to dress.

I vaguely remembered where this magical room holding the Queen’s Wardrobe was, and somehow it contained dresses, jewelry, and a crown for my use. I had been here at one point, long ago, even though the shifting of time had changed my memories.

Cailean had welcomed me warmly but without much recognition, but I knew him. I had met him once long ago... I had stayed with Magnus at the abbey and palace in Scone just after he had been crowned king, and then I remembered following Cailean as we had ridden our horses on a journey to Stirling. Magnus’s standard had been flying above us against the blue sky, the rumble of an army of men on horseback around us, the scent of horse and Scottish forest. But after that my memory grew hazy.

I couldn’t remember what happened next.

I looked up at the canopy, my fingers circling around one of Magnus’s locks, wondering about the men and women who had lived in this room before us, and who would live here after us. Kings and queens who were named in the history books, who were remembered by school children, and here we were — Mags and Katie.

If I thought about it, in the darkness of this medieval room, we were usurpers.

We had taken a throne.

Whose throne?

I didn’t know. My Scottish history knowledge was patchy at best.

Who were we replacing, and would everything be okay?

We didn’t know, had no way to know, we were holding the throne, that was all... holding... Magnus tightened his hold on me and smacked his lips, sleepily.

Then he mumbled, “Ye havin’ trouble sleepin’, mo reul-iuil?”

“A little, new bed, new room?—”

“Auld familiar worries.”

I said, “Aye, I know why we are here, and I understand you’re going to solve this, but it’s got that feel...”

I smoothed my hand down the skin of his shoulder. “We’ve had this feeling before — have we been removed? Are we out of the way, distracted? And in the meantime, is something big happening? It seems like a storm is brewing, and we are unable to see it coming.”

“Och nae, ye canna sleep with those kinds of thoughts in yer head.”

His hand went up under the hem of my chemise, drew it up, and clasped my breast, playing and fondling there.

I breathed, slowly in and out, then he drew his fingers ever so slightly away and I arched ever so slightly to meet his touch. My exhale sounded like — please more.

He chuckled, very low, and said, “Ye distract easily, mo reul-iuil,” as his mouth settled on my other breast. His hand pulled tenderly down along my skin, and found its way between my legs and played there, driving his fingers between the folds — oh god oh god oh god. His mouth drew along my skin, his lips and his tongue, tasting and suckling. His fingers probed — I was drawn to the heights of climax, but a moment before going over the edge alone, he climbed onto me and entered me in a rush. He pressed his mouth to my lips, kissing me deeply, his hips pounding against me... oh, oh, ohhhh, I climaxed within a second, so fast, so big, a gigantic rush roaring through me. My muscles contracted and released, pulling him in and in and...

He growled a long drawn out, low rumbling occhhh, then raised above me and drove into me, over and over, his breaths bullish, heat rising. I pressed against the headboard and raised my hips to meet him, more and again, until he climaxed, and with a long exhale collapsed on me, his fingers clutching my buttocks, holding my hips tightly against him. We stilled in place, as our insides relaxed and softened, until, as the feeling ebbed, we grew weighted, my hips lowered to the bed. He followed me down, above me at first, then on me, then heavy on me. He kissed my lips, long and lingering, an elbow on each side of my head, his fingers entwined in my hair, his thumbs against my temples. Then he rolled off onto his side. “Twas verra fine, I for one want for nothin’ now.”

“Me neither.” I peered around in the darkness, “Except... can we close the curtains? I mean, that’s the royal ‘we’.”

“Ye want me , the king, tae close m’own curtains? Dost ye ken who I am?” He cleared his throat.

A voice said, “Aye, Yer Majesty?”

My eyes wide I whispered, “Oh my god, he’s in the room, watching?”

Magnus chuckled. “The next room, but he hears everythin’.”

I burrowed under the covers and hid there like a child while Magnus’s manservant pulled the curtains closed around our bed.

Then I whispered, “The coast is clear?”

“Aye, ye can come out now, he’s left.”

I flung down the covers. “That is hard to get used to, I will be much quieter in the future.”

He said, “Och nae, ye canna promise it, mo reul-iuil, or I will grow saddened by the quietude. I need yer sweet howlin’ in m’ear tae ken ye are properly bedded.”

“My ‘sweet howling’?”

He chuckled. Then he shifted and rocked trying to get comfortable. “This is a lumpy mattress.”

I patted my arm so he could put his head on it. I put my thigh up on his hip. It was lovely with the curtains pulled, dark, quiet, and warm.

He asked, “Did ye hear Sean say that he has heard of Mag Mòr in the list of Scottish Kings?”

I stroked my fingers down his cheek, “Yes, he told us at Balloch.”

“Men will ken of me.”

“You’ve been a king for a long time.”

“Aye, in the future, mo reul-iuil, but m’name wasna in the history books. How often has it happened, dost ye think, Kaitlyn, that a man lives long enough tae ken he has gone down in history?”

I pressed my lips to the bridge of his nose. “I never... I didn’t really think about it that way.”

“Aye, and ye are likely in the books as well.”

I exhaled, long. “I hope they get my story right — none of that YouTube nonsense.”

“Och, twas just an inconsequential part of yer life. Think of all ye hae accomplished since then, ye are a queen, the mother of a future king, ye hae vanquished yer enemies?—”

“I don’t know if any of the vanquishing is in the permanent record.”

“Aye, likely not.”

“None of the bloodline and history of Riaghalbane exists in the historical record either.”

“Tis true, and there is the rub. If time travel daena exist... and it daena according tae most, we are simply a medieval king and queen.”

“People will say, ‘Kaitlyn and Magnus, huh? You have the same names as that old king and queen.’ And we’ll say, ‘Yes, it’s uncanny how that happened.’”

“Twill be our secret.”

“No one will ever know that you, the medieval King of Scotland, had the high score on Fortnite.”

He chuckled. “Och, it only lasted for an hour and only because Chef Zach was cookin’ dinner at the time. Even Archie beats me now. Alas, nae one will ever remember me for m’gamin’.”

I laughed. “So we will have to be content with how history remembers us, a medieval king and queen, not much else, because written records are rare. We hold this kingdom for how long?”

“Long enough. Tis still being written.”

I nodded against his head.

“...there is an English King who wants the power, Scottish lords who daena like tae be ruled, an arse-wipe named Asgall causing trouble, and a kingdom in the future that I must trust m’mother is guardin’ well. This is an empire.”

“That makes you an emperor.”

“Aye.”

His hand clutched my buttock and pulled it closer, his face burrowing against my throat.

“Sleepy?”

He nodded there. “If ye wake, mo reul-iuil, and I am nae here, I hae gone tae the walls.”

“I thought you were the emperor — do kings and emperors have to guard the walls? I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Aye, I will likely surprise the castle guard once I do, but Sean will go tae the walls. I will need tae be there tae keep him company, or he will think me too unconcerned.”

“You’re a king and you’re still worried about what your older brother thinks?”

“Och aye, tae twist something he says often, older brothers are born tae force younger brothers tae prove themselves.”

“I can’t believe he came — I think he’s trying to prove himself to you.”

His forehead quietly nodded against my neck. Then he said, “But if I am nae here, tis where I hae gone.”

“I understand.”