“Needfire” is perhaps an appropriate title for Blood of My Blood’s sexiest episode yet, though, in this instance, it refers to the real-life tradition of a friction fire lit to ward off disease and disaster. The needfire is built and burned each year at the festival of Beltane, where Brian and Ellen intend to meet in this week’s episode (and where Henry hopes to discover Julia). The two star-crossed couples could certainly use a ward between them, chasing off the trouble they seem liable to stir up together.
At Leathers, Julia’s pregnant belly is showing more and more by the hour. When Brian comes to retrieve her from her chambers and accompany her to Beltane, she asks if he’ll be punished for returning to the castle without her. “Aye, but it’ll be worth it,” he says, smiling. Yet, as they attempt to sneak out in the early hours of the morning, they’re caught by Davina, who insists Julia can’t leave Leathers—not only because she’s Simon’s favorite servant (is Davina…jealous?), but because Simon’s seer, Maisri, is already on her way. The seer will arrive on Beltane, “when the veil between the worlds is thinnest,” to divine the fate of Julia’s unborn baby. The laird of Castle Leathers hosts readings “for all of his bairns,” Davina informs the aghast Brian, who surmises that Julia must be (supposedly) carrying his half-sibling.
“I’m so sorry you had to find out like this,” Julia interrupts, unwilling to tell Brian the truth in front of Davina. “I didn’t have a choice.” Brian is empathetic of the “position” his horrible father might have put the maid in, but he nevertheless feels betrayed by (what he believes to be) her lies. He thought they were friends; now he feels like a fool. As a result, he abandons the plan to help her escape the castle, instead leaving Julia at Leathers to sit for the reading.
And what a reading it is. Maisri claims, much to Simon’s delight, that the laird’s return to power is “imminent.” But her prophecy only gets interesting after Julia holds an egg to her belly, then cracks an egg with two yolks into a bowl. Stirring the yolks, Maisri envisions two children: One is a girl, with “dark curls” and “clear blue eyes,” who’s “time is still to come.” (This is, of course, meant to be Claire, and the strange look that passes over Julia’s face means she knows it.) The other is “a boy of great importance…uniting clans for centuries to come. When the fate of our nation is in peril, he’ll have his part to play,” the seer proclaims. Simon interprets that this means Julia is carrying his son, a Scottish ruler, the future king.
Davina isn’t so quick to make these assumptions. As she soon points out to Lord Lovat, Maisri never actually said this future king will be Simon’s heir. “Julia canna be trusted,” Davina informs him. “When she arrived at Leathers, she was already with child.” But Simon is too caught up in the spectacle of such a profound legacy for his kin. He rebuffs the housekeeper, and warns that if she ever speaks of this conspiracy again, he’ll have her killed.
Outside the castle walls, a still-heartsick Murtagh catches up with the equally moody Brian as the latter sets out for Beltane. Murtagh sees the festival as his one last opportunity to win Ellen’s heart from underneath Malcolm Grant’s nose, though Brian chastises his cousin as a “fool to try it.” (That’s rich coming from you, Fraser.) Nevertheless, they agree to ride across the Highlands together, both unknowingly chasing after the same woman.
Ellen and her sister, Jocasta, are en route to Beltane themselves when Jocasta opts to make her own feelings apparent. Ellen is betrothed to a rich, well-regarded man, one who might actually plan to “ravish” her. Jocasta’s marriage to the “old coot” John Cameron, meanwhile, is severely lacking in romance, and she’s been as-yet-unable (or as-yet-unwilling?) to conceive a child. Ellen makes a point to steer her jealous sister to the stones of Craigh Na Dun, where visiting women hope to reap the benefits of Beltane’s fertility blessings.
As for Ellen herself, she has no desire for such blessings, but she might need to seek them if she’s to charm Malcolm during the festival. Ned warns her not to try and “upend” the betrothal, lest she (and the whole MacKenzie family) suffer the consequences. But Ned’s biggest problem instead arrives in the form of Henry, who—as he’s searching the festival for Julia—mentions that the Grants have received word from Simon about Ellen’s supposedly tarnished reputation. Ned offers Henry repeated assurances that there’s nothing to worry about on that front, and he drops a few key details about Simon’s “misfortune” being “all his own,” not the result of Red Jacob MacKenzie’s betrayal. According to Ned, Simon “stands accused of the kidnapping and the rape of a noblewoman.” But who?
“You will find all rumors and gossip [about Ellen] entirely without merit,” Ned swears to Henry. Little does he know, of course, that Ellen’s about to throw a massive wrench in the merit of this promise.
When she joins Malcolm for a dance, she spins around to discover that Brian’s hand has found her waist instead. This little bit of camera-angle trickery is nothing new, but it pulls off its intended effect: The mood changes. So does the music. Anyone with eyes could see Brian and Ellen are definitely not strangers, but Ellen insists on them trying to pass off the ruse anyway as Murtagh, Jocasta, and Malcolm look on.
Jocasta takes this opportunity to approach Murtagh and, pretending the married woman is a maiden, the two join the troupe of dancers. To exactly no one’s surprise, Ellen wins the competition and is proclaimed the May Queen, who has the privilege of selecting her “king” for the evening’s ceremony. Ellen surveys the row of suitors who volunteer themselves for her discerning eye, and though her lingering gaze lands on Brian, she takes the diplomatic approach and chooses Malcolm as her partner. A crushed Murtagh retreats, depressed to have failed his one attempt to woo her.
Ellen then dumps Malcolm among a group of Beltane workers building the needfire, so she can run off to “attend the fertility blessings.” (In reality, she intends to meet with Brian.) The eldest MacKenzie bargains with Jocasta that, in exchange for her sister’s discretion, Jocasta will get Ellen’s in return: The two women can have a celebration sans consequences or watchful eyes. They’ll both swear the other received the fertility blessings, when in reality they were out doing the 18th-century version of partying until dusk.
Finally, Ellen steals away to make out with Brian in a forest clearing, where a half-drunk Murtagh inadvertently stumbles upon their rendezvous. His puppy-dog eyes harden with anger as he turns away from his best friend and the woman they both adore. Only after he’s gotten completely wasted and taken an impromptu beating from Arch Bug does Murtagh stagger his way to an empty storage tent, where Jocasta finds him bruised, bleeding, and barely coherent. She attempts to nurse him back to health, but he’s too sad and stubborn to sit still. “I want to be wanted,” he slurs, and—understanding this yearning all too well—Jocasta reciprocates his fumbling kiss. But when he accidentally calls her “Ellen,” she backs away, horrified, and Murtagh slumps sideways amongst the creates.
Neither Ellen nor Brian have any idea their kin’s hearts are breaking. Instead, they find an abandoned chapel in which to seal their own union. Forging a handfast with a strip of torn tartan, they proclaim their vows to each other—“blood of my blood, bone of my bone”—before, at last, they consummate their love on the mossy carpet of the chapel. It’s a classic Outlander sex scene: as sweepingly dramatic as it is lustful, our protagonists are bathed in waning golden light as they gasp in unison. (“My God,” Brian announces as he touches Ellen’s breast for the first time, and the music swells in response.) Say what you will about the tropes of such romantic dramas, but it’s hard to deny actors Harriet Slater and Jamie Roy pull off the requisite chemistry. When Slater whispers, “Ruin me”? Perfection.
In the glow of post-coital bliss, Ellen and Brian discuss their families, and Brian reveals that he left home last year to escape his father’s wrath. He took a pilgrimage, walking the Way of St. James to Spain, to “understand [his] place in the world.” There, he learned to “make peace with [his] station” in life, but being around Ellen makes him want to be “more,” to be “worthy” of her. She points out that he’s clearly worthy of her enough already, if she’s opted to bind herself to him. “Our handfast…I chose for myself,” she declares. The woman knows what she wants.
But what their handfast actually means is of important consequence. To Ellen and Brian, it certainly signals their lasting commitment. (Perhaps they considered the handfast an un-officiated wedding, and they already think of themselves as married.) But if Ellen happens to get pregnant from this encounter, might the mere word of a handfast be enough to convince her brothers? (Doubtful.) And what of Clan Grant? Surely they won’t permit Brian to live after stealing Malcolm’s would-be bride. The framing of the sex scene makes it seem as though no one saw Brian and Ellen consummate their love, but Murtagh definitely saw them kissing. Might he be the one to tell the Grants? And what if Simon finds out? What will happen to Ellen’s golden reputation then?
For now, that reputation remains intact. Ellen and Malcolm adorn themselves in the spectacular finery of the May Queen and King, the light of the needfire burning a path before them. (Props to the production and costume designers on this gorgeous scene, which feels both otherworldly and rooted in real-life tradition.) Everyone in the couple’s midst is too caught up in their yearning to celebrate: Jocasta yearns for Murtagh; Murtagh yearns for Ellen (and glowers at Brian); Brian yearns for Ellen; Henry yearns for Julia as he foregoes the party in favor of his bed. All the way from Leathers, Julia yearns for Henry in return, and she steals a line from another beloved period romance as she writes to her husband, promising, “I will burn for you, my love. Always.”
