2 - Sweet Nothings
"Excuse me—just coming through—pardon, sir—oops, sorry!"
Merida's run was hindered only when she ran into a woman who'd dropped a basket of cloth upon their impact. She knelt down and collected the streaming rolls of fabric before handing them back to the woman. The woman smiled and gave her a nod of thanks, and then Merida broke out into a run once more.
She knew it wasn't ladylike to run in front of everyone. She had been trying to be a little more ladylike ever since the time where her mum turned into a bear, she really was, but as the King and Queen of DunBroch, her parents were in charge of running the Anniversial Festival, and she had to get to them as soon as possible so she could lend a hand wherever she was needed.
She raced down the paved trail and barely gave heed to the brightly-colored stands and tents. Laughs and advertising and chatter all overlapped each other and flowed into her hears like the water in a stream.
Finally, she spotted both King Fergus and Queen Elinor in a large violet tent. Both of them were surrounded by people, and looked very busy.
Merida crossed into the shade, a welcoming change from the sweltering sun. She squeezed through the swarm of Scots until she reached her mum.
"Mum," she said. "Mum, I'm finally here, is there anything you need me to do?"
Elinor turned around, a startled look splattered across her face before it eased into a smile.
"Ah, Merida," Elinor said. "Thank you for you offer, but—" she swept her gaze around everyone before turning back to Merida and clasping her hands in front of her, "—it seems as though Fergus and I have everything under control."
Merida felt herself deflate despite herself. So she'd ran all this way for nothing? "Oh. Okay. Th-That's good."
"Well look here," Fergus heartily called from a few feet away. "My magnificent wife being graceful under pressure, as always."
Elinor let out a small chuckle. She looked like she was trying her hide her happiness at the compliment.
"And my husband," she said back, "just as strong as ever."
"Oh, I love you."
"And I love you too."
When she was sure that they were too preoccupied, Merida walked away from them. Her face contorted as though she was about to vomit.
"Not one for public displays of affection, are you?"
Merida turned over to the right. Someone was leaning against a table laden with food—
She blinked, properly registering the young man. He looked a little familiar. Strange garments hung on his lean body, his thick white hair reminded her of fresh snow, and his face—oh dear goodness, his face. . .
He was more attractive than her past suitors could have ever hoped to be.
She cleared her throat. Not that it mattered, of course. "Not when they're coming from my parents."
"Do they do that often? Say sweet nothings to each other?"
"Do they. . . what do you mean, 'sweet nothings'?" She hadn't heard the term before.
She scanned the boy. Strange clothes, strange terms and manner of speaking, failure as of yet to acknowledge her high-born status. . .
He wasn't from DunBroch.
The boy took his weight off of the table and walked towards her with a staff in hand. He looked at her directly in the eye.
"I love you."
Merida half-jumped like she'd just been shocked. She was unsure of how to react to that, yet her heart was racing all the same.
The boy's smile broadened when he saw her face, but it was not an affectionate one; his eyes were glimmering as though he was trying to hold back a laugh.
Her shock turned into anger. "Very funny," she grumbled.
"'You are magnificent,'" he continued. "'The most beautiful thing ever to grace this earth'. You know, stuff like that. Sweet nothings are basically affectionate but meaningless things that people like your parents say to each other."
Or like you just did to me, Merida thought scathingly.
She crossed her arms and looked away from him. She huffed. "Any other meaningless things that you'd like to say to me?" she said, stabbing her gaze into the ground.
The boy paused. Then she sensed him slowly making his way towards her.
"Well," he said, "what if I told you. . ." he was next to her now, "that I needed your help to save the world?"
She broke out laughing, raising her head to look back up at him. "That's a goo—"
His eyes.
They lacked any humor.
Her smile fell. "You're. . . not joking. Bu-But—"
"Jack?"
The white-haired boy instinctively spun around. So his name was Jack.
She looked over to where he was looking and subsequently saw a tall, barefoot blonde young woman dashing towards them. Several eyes followed her as she came to Jack.
"Jack," she said again. "Jack, Hiccup and I found this rea—"
That's when Merida noticed the thick trail of blonde stretching behind the young woman.
"Woah," she said, taking a step back. "Is that all hair?"
Both Jack and the young woman looked over to her. The young woman looked confused before something dawned on her face.
"Wait a moment," the blonde said. "Is that. . ."
Jack nodded. "I just found her."
Found her, as in, they'd been searching for her?
As in, they'd been searching for her because Jack really did need her to help them save the world?
Merida shook her head slowly. "This is insane. Tell me, why should I help you?"
"Because," Jack said. "Rapunzel, Hiccup and I aren't the only ones seeking you out. There's also Pitch Black."
"Pi. . . Pi. . . who Black?"
"Pitch Black," the girl, who Merida was guessing was Rapunzel, said.
"Normally the Guardians and I take care of him," he said. "But Pitch isn't just threatening the children anymore. He's planning to spread darkness everywhere. Not just in my time—"
"Your time?"
"—but in everyone else's too, until the Earth and its history is composed of nothing but darkness, and he will reign absolute. This conflict is now revolving around a larger scale, so we need the best of the best to help defend the world. You're one of them—one of the greatest people to ever have lived in your era."
For once, Merida was speechless. Her, one of the greatest people to ever have lived. That was. . . that was. . . .
Well, that was blasphemy.
She averted their gazes. "You two must have the wrong person, then."
"No, I'm certain that we don't, " Jack said. "I could see it back then, and I see it now."
"'Back then'? What are you—"
She realized why he looked so familiar.
That day, when she was just a little kid—
Merida looked up at Jack. The white hair, round face, lean figure. . . it all matched the boy that she had seen that day.
She didn't realize that she was gaping until she closed her mouth. "But. . . how. . . what were you doing on that day? How was it that you didn't age at all?"
"If you cone with me," Jack held his hand out, "then I'll explain everything."
Merida didn't look at his hand. She just looked straight at his face.
She hated him. She hated the way he seemed so coy. She hated his mischievous, almost devilish aura. And she really hated how he expected her to just go headfirst into this without a word of protest.
But at the same time. . .
There was something about him. She didn't know what it was, exactly, but it made her place a small amount of trust in him despite how much she already loathed him.
It was this trust that moved her to lift her hand and place it into his.
