Author's Note: Since I plan on using both of these characters in my future fics, I figured some practice was in order.

Based off of a prompt where Rapunzel teaches Merida to bake. The title is also not my own.

Summer in Autumn

"Oooh, there!"

Rapunzel leapt off the horse and darted to the cliff's edge. Stopping short, she gasped, clapping her hands to her cheeks in open-mouthed wonder. "Just look at that view, oh it's perfect!"

The valley below was blanketed in a slow moving fog that clung to the trees and bushes that lined the river as it curved sinuously across the landscape. The cries of kestrels sailed across the air like the birds themselves did in great, lazy circles, small points of darkness against a setting sun. The scent of fresh water mingled with the crisp, but not frigid autumn air, the trees aflame with color made more brilliant by the dark shadows they cast. For once the forest itself was quiet, with no wind to shake the heavy branches and set the leaves to rustling amongst their fellows. If not for the twinkling lights on the river she might have mistaken it for a painting, so wonderful was the view.

The princess took it all in, willing her eyes to be wider so she could see even more, jerking her head when a long, deep, guttural call stole over the valley. Soon another animal – she supposed it must be a deer, or was it a buffalo? Did DunBroch have those? – joined in from across the river, and then a third raised its voice until the valley rung with the sound of the herd calling to one another.

There wasn't a tower in sight. It was a lovely view.

Merida dismounted and came over to where Rapunzel was standing, sighing, her head tilting to the side in hopeless fondness. "So," Merida said, shifting her quiver, "is this where you want to stay?"

"Forever," Rapunzel breathed, her eyes fluttering shut as she took in the scents and sounds of Merida's home. She opened her eyes when her companion started snorting, her waves of red locks – brushed for this special occasion but quickly devolving into snarls that suited her better – shivering over her shoulders as she laughed.

"You ah, you want me to leave you and the view alone, then?" Merida's smile stretched wide across her face, but there was a hint of mischievousness in her large eyes.

Rapunzel pouted. "But why would you leave me? The whole point was for us to go exploring together."

"Oh, I meant…uh…" Merida rubbed the back of her neck, shrugging as she made to speak, thought better of it, and sighed. She dropped her quiver to the ground and unslung her bow from her back, dumping it without ceremony atop the quiver. Straightening, she said, "what I meant was, did you want to stay here tonight?"

"Could we?" Rapunzel asked, brightening at the thought. "Unless…is it safe to camp up here? I don't know anything about camping, but you're the one who's done it probably a thousand times."

Merida was mouthing numbers as she ticked off her fingers; evidently she came to the conclusion that that was an accurate assessment. "I guess that's probably true, but who knows how safe we really are?" The trickery danced in her eyes again. "Maybe we'll get attacked by flying porpoises."

Rapunzel giggled, not slighted in the least. "Oh come on, I know better now!" In her defense, the sole book she had ever encountered that had described marine fauna had contained heavily stylized pictures and faded text. Though beautiful to look at, she had since learned, via Merida's stunned silence and then breathless laughter that porpoises do not, in fact, fly. "Please, can we stay here tonight? It's just…it's so beautiful and open and free and…."

Merida was examining her out of the corner of her eye, turned as she was towards the setting sun. "Well, if you're right set on i-"

"Oh thank you, thank you! This is the perfect spot," Rapunzel cried, grabbing her hand and pumping it with vigor. Merida, who had proven herself an archer worthy of her renown to her guest's amazement over the past few days, weathered the enthusiasm with good nature, and perhaps some experience with dealing with the overeager. "I'll just get dinner started."

The other girl cocked her head, wrinkling her pert little nose in confusion. "You're going to make us dinner? I thought we'd be eating the rolls and apples."

"Nope," Rapunzel said as she trotted over to Angus, who was nibbling at the sparse grass in idle contentment, itching his belly with one hoof, "we're going to have a cobbler. I brought all my baking things so we can have delicious apple cobbler under the stars." Angus shot air through his nose and raised his head when she flipped open the saddlebags, shaking his huge head and scratching harder at the skin near the strap. He'd gamely accepted the saddle for the sake of one inexperienced but delighted rider and the bemusement of the other, but at every opportunity he'd itched himself, unused to the pressure and rubbing of the strap since Merida never used a saddle.

She whistled a tune beneath her breath as she dug around in the bags for her ingredients. There was her little bag filled with flour, here was her tin of spices, there was her small frying pan – the one for cooking, which was heavier and therefore unwieldy in combat – and the apples…

She frowned. Where were the apples? They had been right here when she'd packed them this morning. They had been in the compartment closest to Angus' right foreleg, she remembered seeing their shape bunched up in the cloth as Merida guided them up and down the rolling hills, her small, steady hands on Rapunzel's waist providing an anchor as she learned how to maneuver the large gelding. Angus, who at times was more of a prancing pony than Maximus was, had been as patient as his master, crooking his ears at her in silent encouragement when she nudged him with her bare feet.

Angus shifted, moving away as Rapunzel followed him, reminding him with a stern tone that she was still looking for her apples. He didn't stop until he came to rest in front of Merida, who was holding a bag and drawing an apple from it.

"Oh, thank you! I was looking for these." Rapunzel plucked the apple from Merida's grip, adding it to her growing pile of ingredients that had her bending backward as she tried to keep it all together. The other girl glared at the empty space in her palm and reached for another apple.

"And thanks again," Rapunzel said, taking it from her, not noticing her pursed lips. She bent down and just barely managed to set her flour and can of spices down before her whole bundle came tumbling to the ground. "Ooops." She chuckled under her breath and crouched, setting her things to right.

"Wait, I thought I had three…"

A hand holding an apple entered her field of view, followed by a heavy sigh, and she accepted Merida's wordless offer gladly. "Thanks!" She snapped open her dishcloth and draped it over a clear patch of ground, laying the three apples on top of it along with the rest of her supplies. Merida sat down in front of her, watching with interest as Rapunzel took stock of her goods.

"Flour's all here, yup, spices are fine, butter is…a little melted, but that's fine, buttermilk is okay…"

"What's in this?" Merida asked, holding up a small tin and shaking it. "It smells weird."

"That's baking soda; you use it to get bread and pastries to rise." It was a little odd, being in the position of teacher, but Merida, who scoffed at ordinary lessons and rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her mother when she recited the legends as Rapunzel listened at rapt attention, was as keen as her eye when it came time to learn with her hands.

Merida opened the lid and sniffed it. Rapunzel chuckled and patted her hand, indicating the spice tin with her other hand. "I think you'd like tasting these better." The spice tin, divided into several segments, contained several ground spices of varying potency.

"Cinnamon," Merida muttered, tapping the edge of the tin where the dull brown spice lay, the dusty aroma rising up at the slight movement. "And this is salt, obviously." The small crystals were indistinguishable from the sugar except in amount: Rapunzel had a bag of sugar, one that had captured Angus' attention while she was packing it. "Ground vanilla, pepper, cloves, but this…" Merida dipped her finger into the dark powder and lifted it to her mouth. She took a tentative lick, and her curiosity morphed into puzzled pleasure. "It's good – I'd be liking more of it – but I don't know what it is."

"That's nutmeg," Rapunzel said. "I like adding it and cinnamon to coffee, but only if there's a lot of sugar." Moth-Gothel, that is, had always chided her and said that that was the way that naughty children rotted their teeth out, but Rapunzel had been as healthy as a horse since birth and had teeth to match. All the sugar she could ever want and no cavities in sight.

"Where does it come from?" Merida sucked the last of the spice off her finger, eyeing Rapunzel expectantly, but she had gone silent. For all her firsthand knowledge of star movements that had impressed even a woman of the land like Merida, Rapunzel still hadn't a clue about the movements and makeup of so many of the things she took for granted. Cinnamon didn't just come from "the town" or "the kitchen" or "the pantry", it came from somewhere, a somewhere with just as many stories and people and places and sights and smells as any other place she'd been, a somewhere that was as far off and distant as her home to Merida's.

She grinned. She'd already made that journey. Why not another one just like it? After all, the entire world was out there.

"I don't know. I'll have to find out," she decided, staring off into the distance. And maybe if she asked nicely Merida would come with her. It was amazing the number of things you could do if you asked politely. This realization had been one she'd come to over these past few months, along with a relaxation of her unfounded fear of strangers. The world wasn't filled with strange people; it was filled with good people, ones who were just waiting to become friends.

The smell of smoke brought her out of her quiet trance. Merida had cleared a section of twigs and leaves and arranged rocks in a small circle within which she had placed some clumps of dry grass. She was already coaxing a trembling flame to greater strength with slow breaths as she returned her flint to the miniature satchel that clung to her belt. Beside her were several small twigs; she took a few of these and hovered over the fire, waiting for it to be ready.

"Um, don't you need bigger pieces of wood for a fire?"

Merida glanced at her over the curling smoke. "Where do you think Angus went?"

She would never not be amazed at how intelligent horses were. Maybe it was all the apples.

Presently they had a proper fire, and with perfect timing, too, for the light was fading rapidly. She would have to set up their tent soon, since Rapunzel had shown little knowledge of proper camping, admitting that the only times she'd slept outside she'd done so without so much as a thin sheet covering her. And yet she was adamant she hadn't been cold, which was curious, since the girl was waifish and preferred to remain barefoot at all times. Merida could appreciate that as a fellow wild child even as it puzzled her.

Rapunzel hummed beneath her breath, the same tune as before, as she rinsed out a bowl and set it beside the fire to dry. The fire crackled and hissed as the moisture within the wood escaped. This far out in the hills it was hard to find perfectly dry wood, covered as everything was by a skein of moisture left behind as the rainclouds rolled on, but that didn't mean she couldn't start a fire.

The magical flint and tinder helped. Magic was useful when it acted upon things.

As was sometimes the case, Rapunzel's excited chatter quieted and they were wrapped in a companionable silence filled only with warm memories of the day.

There was the horseback riding, where Rapunzel had proven herself a fast learner, perhaps because she was so willing to listen to her mount as compared to other early riders, who tended to believe that to ride a horse was to establish mastery over it. A true rider knew that she was only ever a guest given a space by a willing animal, and it had warmed the princess' heart to find Rapunzel cooperative instead of dominant.

Then there was lunch taken in the Great Hall, where her brothers had been rambunctious at best and evil little trolls at worst, but Rapunzel had been utterly taken with them, and they with her, upon the instant she had arrived. Merida had suspected that this was because Rapunzel's desserts, which had disappeared at an astonishing rate, were not being consumed by her. A quick check under the table had granted her the sight of Rapunzel's hand dropping a small cake into Harris' palm before Merida had straightened and winked at her. The pair of them had shared giggles as Fergus began telling the story of Mor'du for the fourth time, skipping to his favorite part, the one where "and my own daughter got him! Shot him right through, three times, taking off a leg and an eye with each arrow! Like red lightning, she struck him down…"

Their day had been edging closer to evening when Merida had offered to take Rapunzel to a secluded section of the river where they could be sure no pesky, prying boys would be peering over the bushes to watch them swim. Though not a natural swimmer, the girl hadn't let that slow her down at all.

She had wondered, initially, if the Coronan princess would be boring, snobbish, or worse still, proper. Upon their initial meeting she had taken the girl for simple and an unfortunate charge, but the days following her arrival had proven Merida wrong on all accounts. What she had believed to be a new burden for her was instead a joy that had grown over the days as she realized just how much she loved to see Rapunzel smile as she learned something new. Her appetite for adventure and knowledge was as insatiable as Merida's was for adventure and freedom, and it made her wonder just how overbearing Rapunzel's mother had been to make her so keen on leaving the castle with its thin windows for the sprawling outdoors. And yet she had been assured by her own mother that the queen of Corona was a gentle and kind soul, if always in need of the ear or the pen of a close friend, as Elinor's letters of encouragement attested.

"…and we're ready!" Rapunzel announced, pulling the dry bowl into her lap and her ingredients towards her. "Here." She patted the ground beside her and Merida rose, dropping down next to her in a graceless heap that was all elbows and knees all over the place.

Rapunzel began to pour flour into her palm, tossing it into the bowl.

"Don't you need to measure that?" Merida asked, puzzled at this new behavior.

"That's what I'm doing," Rapunzel answered. "See how I'm keeping my hand cupped like this? That's about a quarter of a cup." Merida lifted her hand and slowly curled it into a crude imitation of Rapunzel's swiftly moving one.

"I'd have never thought to try it like that." One side of her mouth lifted in a wry grin. "I'm more used to just smoking meats. I've never baked before."

Rapunzel gasped and almost dropped the next handful on her lap. "Never? But how do you…oh, right, servants." It was an odd concept, having people whose sole purpose was to take care of you, and the idea that she was above people like that was so abhorrent to her that she'd nearly snapped at the man who'd suggested she not spend so much time in the kitchens, or the stables, or the laundry rooms, for fear of appearing "beneath her station".

"…would you like to learn?"

"I suppose I may as well," Merida said, in a tone that suggested she was pleased at the offering but was keeping her enthusiasm in check for the sake of her image, that of the wandering warrior. That was all well and good, but there was apple cobbler to be made, thank you.

"Okay, so here's the flour as base, and we're going to add some of the spices to it - may I have the tin? Thanks! – and we're going to use the sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon, vanilla, salt, and the baking soda." With each item on her list she used her fingers to measure out the amount she needed before tossing it into the bowl. "And we'll just stir it with a spoon…"

She blinked. A vision appeared before her, of the saddlebags on the table, the ingredients to the side, and a metal spoon peeking out from beneath the bags.

"Ooops."

Merida handed her a wooden spoon, and Rapunzel accepted it without thinking. "Oh," she exclaimed, looking it over, "did you bring this with you?"

"No," Merida said as she dragged a piece of wood towards her, "I whittled it."

"Just now?" That was incredibly fast.

"While you were waiting for the bowl to dry," Merida responded, shrugging as if to say it was hardly anything. The handle of her knife gleamed at her belt in the firelight.

"Oh." Rapunzel examined the spoon. It was large and flat with only a slight concavity, but the edges were surprisingly smooth for something made on such short notice, especially since she hadn't even seen Merida carving it. But then she'd been preoccupied with the stars as she soaked in the quiet. "Thank you."

She blended the mixture until it resembled dull, tan sand, explaining to Merida that it was important to mix the dry ingredients first so that the spices were spread out evenly. Her companion nodded and followed her movements without interrupting while Rapunzel stirred in the butter, water and buttermilk, only pursing her lips and asking why as Rapunzel talked about "folding in" the apples.

"I think we're ready to put this in the frying pan."

She wrapped the handle of the pan, which had been sitting in the fire, with the edge of her cloth, guiding Merida to coat the inside of it with butter. The smell of it as it sizzled brought to mind cozy mornings in a very different place, a place that was both a shelter and a prison, but her companion now was very different from the one she had then, and there was bare, open sky above her head and a cool, gentle breeze taking with it the smells of the well banked fire.

She spooned the mixture into the pan and set it down to rest on one of the larger, flatter rocks as she began working on the topping. Merida had fun mashing the butter into the flour and sugar until it crumbled in Rapunzel's fingers, she showing Merida this and receiving an intrigued grin in return as she sprinkled it over the rest of the cobbler. Returning the lid, she replaced the pan into the fire and began cleaning up.

Though Merida offered to take the dirty dishes Rapunzel insisted that she was better at tending the fire; besides, she needed to clean her hair again, so off to the river she went, shadowed by a watchful Angus. Merida wasn't sure why Rapunzel seemed to believe that hair required cleaning every morning and evening, especially with hair so short and fine as hers, but it was a harmless quirk so she left it to be, turning instead to the small section of wood in front of her.

She scraped her knife over the wood, carving out a curve here and scratching down a line there. Her hands worked the wood down until a face emerged; a mouse with its ears pricked forward in interest. She frowned, mulling over what to do, and decided to move to the tail end, where in time the tail developed, tucked neatly to the mouse's side. The dainty little paws came next and she filed down their ends; no claws here. She carved the mouse's small mouth with short, slim strokes of the knife, the animal's wide eyes, its whiskers thin lines around its muzzle.

She examined her creation and chuckled at the sight. Her earlier indecision had resulted in what looked like a mouse with a lion's mane.

She liked that.

The smell of the cobbler drew her towards the skillet and she set her carving aside, lifting the lid and peering inside. She was disappointed to find that the cobbler appeared as flat as it had been when they'd first set it to cooking. Didn't dough usually puff up pretty quickly? Or at least it had always gone into the ovens about the same size as the bread that came out. Clearly something was wrong, and for all she trusted Rapunzel's judgment her own eyes were telling her something quite different.

An idea struck her, and she snagged the small tin filled with baking powder. Rapunzel had said that it helped baked goods rise; perhaps she hadn't used enough. Merida lifted the skillet lid and applied a generous dose of the white powder to the top of the cobbler. Satisfied with her efforts, she shoved the pan back into the coals, content to wait for Rapunzel's return.

Rapunzel returned from the river with her hair in a spiky mess that she was dragging her fingers through as she babbled on about how Angus had rolled around in the mud and only agreed to clean himself after Rapunzel asked him to be good. Merida glared at her horse, who had flopped down beside the fire and was patently ignoring her, as she bundled up Rapunzel's things, the girl combing through her hair as she continued to talk about how every horse she'd ever met was sweet at heart, they just needed to be shown that.

"Oooh dinner smells great!" Rapunzel said, kneeling beside the fire. "Let me just check up on…"

Her voiced died in her throat as her eyebrows shot to her hairline. "Um…Merida?"

"…what?" Merida asked, made fearful by her tone.

"What uh, what did you do?" Rapunzel pointed at the sprinkling of white powder on top of the cobbler, and Merida was displeased by the sight of the still flat cobbler. She should have fixed it.

"I added the baking soda, so that it'd rise."

"How much did you add?"

Merida mulled over the question, and then cupped her hand.

"…a quarter of a cup of baking soda?" Rapunzel asked. She made it sound like Merida had tossed sand into the whole thing. She scrubbed her face with one hand as Merida glanced between the tin, the skillet, and her face.

"It can't be that bad," she said, and to illustrate her point she took the spoon, scooped up some of the cobbler, blew on it a few times, and slipped it into her mouth.

Rapunzel watched this all happen with a concerned look on her face, especially when Merida instantly began hacking and coughing as intense bitterness coated her tongue, the sugar doing little to rectify the effect of the soda. "Yeah, that's…that's why you don't use it as a topping," she said, wincing when Merida spat a wad of barely chewed cobbler to the side and dived for the water jug. "Sorry, I should have warned you not to do that." She gnawed at her lip, looking down at the cobbler while Merida wheezed around gulps. Angus whinnied in the horse equivalent of laughter, flapping his tail as his sides quivered.

Merida's frantic swallows slowed down. "That," she informed Rapunzel, "was the worst thing I have ever tasted. Even the worm was better."

"The worm?" Rapunzel repeated, sure she'd misheard her, but Merida gave her the look of harassed older sisters everywhere and shook her head. She sighed, glancing guiltily at the ruined meal.

"Would you be wanting some toast instead?"

Rapunzel giggled, committing the whole thing to her growing share of happy, if unique memories. "Sure."