Disclaimer:Don't own anything.
Author's Note: First Brave fic and there probably won't be many more, if any, to follow. (I'm saying that now, but when I eventually get the DVD, I'll probably prove myself a liar)
The first book in my brother and I's original alternate history/fantasy series is up on authonomy. I would appreciate it if you guys would head over there, take a look.
authonomy / books / 47917 / sanctum - files - the - dragon - scroll /
Being a mother is learning about strengths you didn't know you had, and dealing
with fears you didn't know existed.
~Linda Wooten
Her daughter scares her. Or rather, her daughter's spirit does. Merida is fierce and fearless and is her father's daughter in so many ways. But Merida reminds Elinor of another person, of someone she'd known long before Fergus.
The new generation doesn't know about Aderyn, doesn't remember the tartsweet girl with mischief in her eyes. Elinor does. Sometimes, she thinks she's the only one who does.
Elinor remembers thinking that her sister would always be prettier than her. She and Aderyn had the same dark hair, but Aderyn's waved in such particular ways that only the wind could do. Aderyn had kept up with the boys, all lithe muscle and coltish energy, racing the village boys to the treetops and sprinting past the river with the blacksmith's son.
When Elinor remembers her, it's often with a sword in her hands. She'd been fast and Elinor remembers their father's fretting and their mother's fury. "A lady," she used to say, "Does not fight with swords."
Aderyn would tilt her chin up, head held high, looking as regal as the queen she would one day be. "I'm not a lady," she would snap. "I'm a woman."
"Not yet, you're not."
Aderyn would continue as though she hadn't heard, going on about how women shouldn't be underestimated. Their parents would shake their heads and the elders of the other clans would whisper behind each other's backs about the upstart princess, how she was so very unwed-able.
But Elinor remembers curling up beneath her blankets in the night and her sister in the other bed. "Why do you do it?"
Aderyn's bright eyes—green as the trees she loved so dearly—had glanced over at her. She had the bed by the window, would always be staring out at the sky. "Do what?"
"Fight mum."
"Sometimes, you have to stand up for things, Eli. Sometimes, there are things you can't give up."
"Things that're more important than family?" Elinor had asked, sitting up. Aderyn had braided her hair for bed most every night, that she always remembers and she tries with Merida, but Merida's hair is simply too wild to tame with something like a braid.
Aderyn's face had softened. "…No, Eli. Not more important, but important enough that I can't just leave it alone."
"It hurts mum when you fight her." Elinor had seen it, sitting with their mother as she learned her stitches by the firelight.
"I know, sweetling. I know." Aderyn had quieted then and wouldn't respond no matter how Elinor tried.
(In retrospect, Elinor understood that silence. It was a decision-making, thoughtful kind of silence)
Elinor watches Merida, watches her learn to shoot a bow, learn how to make one. Watches her work on her aim from horseback and how she wrestles with the boys. But once—and only once—does she pick up one of Fergus' swords—to try, she says—and Elinor snatches it from her because swords and bows are two different things and swords are a thing she refuses to compromise on.
Because she still remembers the day the invaders came. Still remembers how their warriors fought, still remembers the stench of blood and worse spilled across the grass, the fires that painted the skies garish red and black. Remembers pain and terror and please won't they go away?
Remembers her only sister running out with her sword in hand.
Remembers her only sister fighting off some of the invaders, remembers how she fought to protect some of the villagers still trapped.
Remembers her only sister being cut down.
They had managed to fight off the invaders, but at what cost?
When Merida begins declaring her independence, fighting Elinor on the dresses and the posture and the lessons in ladylike behavior, Elinor feels a thrill of fear run through her. She sees her sister in Merida, sees a fire extinguished long before its time. And she knows she will do whatever it takes to keep her from what she loves, for her own good. Even if it breaks her heart.