Night had fallen over the kingdom of DunBroch. Beneath the gently winking stars and the still, silvery light of the moon, the world bore not a single trace of the traumatic events of the evening before. The cool winds whispered a lullaby over the highlands, singing and sighing in the boughs of the trees, as if to proclaim, in their hushed voices, that all was right in the world.
Queen Elinor sighed contentedly as she lay awake at her husband's side, allowing the overwhelming feelings of joy and relief to wash over her. It had been such a wonderful day, a day spent in celebration of Mor'du's death, the peace amongst the clans, and, most importantly to the queen, the newfound understanding that the experience had forged between her and Merida. After several long and difficult years, they had finally managed to mend their special bond, and brighter days were in store, at last. Elinor smiled to herself, thinking of the many happy times that lay ahead.
A loud crash broke the peaceful stillness, startling Elinor out of her reverie. Beside her, Fergus stirred, but did not wake. Careful not to disturb her slumbering husband, Elinor eased herself off the bed, wrapped a shawl around her delicate shoulders, and slipped out of the bedroom and into the corridor. Taking a candle from the nearby wall, she made her way in the direction of the triplets' room. She sighed, shaking her head slightly as she approached the door; she would never understand where the lads found so much energy, when she was forever catching them up playing long past their bedtime.
But to her surprise, when she pushed open the door to their room, the mischievous lads were silent, all sound asleep in their little beds. The queen paused for a moment to survey the sleeping boys: Hamish had thrown off all of his blankets, Hubert's pillow had fallen to the floor, and Harris had buried himself so deeply under the covers so that only a tuft of his red hair was visible. Elinor bit back a laugh, as she moved to straighten Hamish's quilts and retrieve Hubert's pillow. They may be wee devils, she thought to herself, but more adorable devils you could not find anywhere. She gently kissed the foreheads of each of her sons in turn before stealing back out into the hallway.
She was only a few paces down the corridor when a noise came again. This time, it was louder, and it came distinctly from the direction of her daughter's room. Elinor turned on her heel, and hurried there . As she neared the door, she became aware of a sound of muffled crying coming from behind the door.
"Merida?" the queen called anxiously as she approached the princess' room. Receiving no reply, she pushed the door open to find Merida in the throes of a fitful sleep. She was thrashing violently beneath the thick blankets that covered her, strands of her vibrant red hair partially obscuring her face as she moaned in her sleep.
"Merida, sweetheart," she tried again, hurrying to her daughter's bedside, "Whatever's the ma—AHH!" Elinor let out a cry of surprise as she suddenly lost her footing, the candle nearly slipping from her grip as she teetered about unsteadily, attempting to regain her balance. When she'd righted herself again, she noticed that the floor was covered with arrows that seemed to have spilled from Merida's quiver, which Elinor found overturned by the bedside.
Moving closer, and carefully brushing aside her daughter's wild hair, the queen noticed the tip of Merida's bow protruding from beneath the blankets. Merida was clinging to the weapon as though her life depended on, her grip so tight that her knuckles were white, the fingers of one hand curled round the strings as though ready to draw. Elinor felt her heart stop in her chest, shuddering at the memory of the terrified, helpless look on Merida's face as Mor'du's monstrous form loomed over her. It should have occurred to her that the lass would have nightmares in wake of such a frightening experience.
"Merida? Merida!" Elinor said, trying to wake the girl from her tormented slumber, "Merida, mo nighean, please wake up." She tried to pry the bow from Merida's grasp, but the lass only whimpered and held on more tightly, pulling the weapon to her chest with such force that she shook herself awake with the sudden motion. Her wide blue eyes flew open in distress, darting frantically about the room before at last finding Elinor's comforting brown ones.
"Mum?" she ventured, her voice quaking as she struggled to get her breath. Her eyes still scanned the room anxiously, as though she still half-feared that the terrible images that haunted her dreams would materialise at any moment.
"Shhh, Merida," Elinor settled herself at the edge of the bed, and placed a comforting hand on her daughter's arm. "Everything is all right." She brought her free hand up to stroke Merida's cheek and forehead, inwardly sighing with relief as the traumatised look faded from her daughter's eyes. "Don't be frightened my brave wee lassie." She bent to kiss her daughter's forehead. "Mise n' seo. I'm right here."
Merida loosened her grip on the bow. "I- I had a bad dream," she said, faltering as she fought to keep the spectres that hovered at the edge of her consciousness at bay, "It was so… so…" She shook her head, willing the thoughts to leave her mind, but she couldn't—not when something the she herself had done could have lost her mother forever!
"I know, sweetheart," Elinor soothed, smoothing back a few stray ringlets that fell across Merida's forehead, "But it was just a nightmare, mo leanabh. Just a wee bad dream, nothing more." She smiled reassuringly down at her daughter, coaxing the weapon from Merida's grasp and placing it carefully next to the bed.
"But Mum… I dreamt that you were—I thought that you had— I dreamt I was too late," she managed to say at last. She was so overcome with guilt at what she'd nearly done to her mother that she could hardly speak. "I never wanted to lose you, Mum. I didn't want that, at all! But I was so foolish, and I almost couldn't… Almost didn't…" she choked out, her face a mess of regret and pain. Two big tears leaked out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
"Oh, Merida," Elinor said sympathetically, pulling Merida into her arms, "Come here, my brave one." She drew her daughter into a tight hug, murmuring comforting words and stroking her curly hair as she cried. The queen had to blink back a few tears of her own as she felt her wee lassie's body shaking in her arms. She was proud of her daughter's maturity in recognising her own role in all of this, but it pulled at her heart to see her fiery little girl so weak and vulnerable.
"I'm so sorry, mum," Merida sobbed, burying her face in her mother's shoulder, "Tha mi duilich."
Elinor drew back a bit so that she could look her daughter in the eye, "I'm sorry, too, leanabh."
Merida blinked up at her mother in disbelief, "But why should you be sorry, mum? This whole thing was all my fault!"
"Really?" Elinor said, smiling, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "I thought you said that the witch was to blame," she teased, tweaking Merida affectionately on the nose. Slowly, a smile eeked its way across Merida's tear-stained face, and she giggled softly at her mother's joke.
"Do you want to know what I think?" Elinor asked after a moment, her face turning serious again, " I think that we're both to blame here. We both had a part in this." The queen's eyes lingered a moment on the white bandages that covered the wound on Merida's arm, a wound that she herself had inflicted. Swallowing a pang of regret, she continued, before Merida could protest, "But we've both come through it all safe and sound. Tha a h-uile duine gu dòigheil- everyone's fine, and there's no harm done, now," she said reassuringly, wiping a few tears from Merida's eyes, "And I'd say we've both learnt a thing or two from this, haven't we, mo leanabh?"
Merida nodded and smiled softly at Elinor. "Aye," she said, snuggling closer to her mother, "I think that we both have."
Elinor and Merida held each other for several long moments. The past few years had been so difficult for both of them—say nothing of the past few days—but now they finally understood one another. Merida knew that her mother now trusted her to make her own decisions, and was willing to let her come to them in her own time, and Elinor felt confident that when that time came, her daughter would meet her responsibilities with strength and wisdom. The queen had no doubts that in time, Merida would grow to be a fine ruler, indeed. Everything was going to be all right now, so long as the two of them had each other.
"We need to get you to bed, my brave one," Elinor said at length, seeing Merida attempting to stifle a yawn. "You've had a long day, and need your rest, and, I daresay, so do I." Merida nodded compliantly, but her expression remained reticent. It was clear that she still did not want to be left alone.
"Mum?" she queried hesitantly, not quite knowing how to ask the question. She'd already kept her mother up long enough, and knew that she was probably far, far too old for this, but she desperately wanted her mother to stay.
Elinor laughed softly, reading her daughter's mind perfectly. "Scoot over a wee bit, leanabh," she said, sliding into bed next to Merida, and pulling the quilts up around them both. She wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter and placed a light kiss on the top of Merida's head.
"Don't you worry, my brave wee lassie. I've got you. I'm here. I'll always be right here," the queen whispered softly.
Merida sighed, feeling all that remained of her fear draining away. The nightmares that had tormented her earlier were all but forgotten as she rested in her mother's secure embrace.
"Tha gaol agam ort," Merida murmured in a sleepy voice, bringing her curly head up to rest against her mother's shoulder and dropping an airy kiss on her face.
Elinor drew her breath in sharply. Her heart surged with emotion. She had not heard those words from her daughter in… the queen could not even remember how long. She bent forward and pressed her cheek to her daughter's, the long strand's of Merida's hair tickling her skin.
"Tha gaol agam ort—fhèin, mo leanabh," she said softly. "I love you, too, darling."
Elinor settled Merida into her arms, savouring the feeling of the closeness between them—a closeness that she'd long since resigned to herself that she would never experience again. Slowly, Merida's eyes fell shut, and her breathing evened out as a peaceful sleep overtook her.
"Oidhche mhath, mo nighean," she whispered to her daughter's sleeping form. A small smile graced her lips as she, too, drifted off into blissful dreams of the coming days, filled with the joy of the special love that she and Merida shared. Everything was righted in the kingdom now; all of DunBroch was at peace, at last.