i am a total shipper of MeriCup, but mushy, romance things are not what is in this story. enjoy and comment!
disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot
Merida's POV
Today I was in the woods. An excellent place to just get your mind off of things and let your emotions go away with each loosed arrow. Today, most of all for me. My mother was at it again with her everlasting, all-day talk of when I become sixteen and get married off to one of the clans, become a lady, and live the way a princess should, even though I am obviously only twelve years old.
She had kept me form the forest for a whole month. Thirty days of torture, manners, patience (I failed horribly at this), and dresses. Today, though I got mad and just left, without permission to the woods, even though I know there almost certainly will be a nice, hard, piece of wood waiting patiently at home to make contact with my rear end.I didn't even want to get married. I don't care If they were nice or something like that. Romance annoys me, and the way Mum always dragggs out the importance of it really does not help the situation.
Shooting was my life's ambition to master. I had no interest in all of this "princess" stuff, because I know that I would only grow up to be duchess anyways, not queen. The kings would be my brothers, even thought they are only one year old each. Stupid boys and their advantages.
As I successfully loosed yet another arrow, the arrow head glinting in the shining sun, and bulls-eyed while riding Angus, which was recently a huge accomplishment, since I was afraid to do it until now, I noticed something plummet from the sky from all the way above the clouds.
This something was something a human.
Hiccup's POV
Today I awoke to Berk's nearly daily dragon attack. Screams filled the air along with wails of war cries or shouts, made by our oh-so-tough- vikings for their mother.
Finally. Another chance to catch a dragon. No chance at a night furry because it was day time. Though killing one would just about make my meaning in life completed. Taking my chances, I grabbed a sword. Stepping outside, I waited. Apparently, my tired reflexes were too used to the waiting part. A Zipple Back grabbed my waist with its heads, wrapping me to an almost strangling strength. I screamed for help, the Vikings that I would rule in the future just staring up and calling for my father.
My father, finally having woken up, ran outside; just to find his only child being carried off by a bloodthirsty dragon with two heads. I did the only thing suitable for the situation. I screamed. Then cried.
Reaching high altitude. Fifty feet off of the ground. Sixty. Seventy, eighty. Above the clouds. I flew above the clouds for quite some time. When we were flying for an hour, me kicking frantically the whole time, he did some thing horrific. He dropped me. Falling. Falling. My head comes into contact with ground. All goes black.