A/N: Swapped Merida's flashback of her escape from chapter 3 and embellished it. This part isn't really important, but for Christmas I got the special edition of Skyrim and am addicted as hell to it. Any Elder Scroll fans can PM me!
Disclaimer: I do not own the How To Train Your Dragon series or Brave.
Runaway Bride
Tunnel vision engulfed Merida's line of sight as she took step after step, watched by hundreds of eyes waiting for the princess to seal her fate. Had she not read that letter, she would most likely have numbed herself of all emotion during the whole ceremony, but each feeling was heightened to its maximum level - outwardly, Merida's stiff limbs walked towards her fiancee Douglas, who by all means was a decent young fellow.
However, other thoughts besides her impending matrimony clouded her scrambled mind.
'What of my blood relatives? Stoic, Valka, Hiccup, they can't just be unaware of my existence.'
Merida was torn between doing her duty, and running back through the building's doors to get answers to all the questions she had. She was almost at the altar, where a priest was ready to do the vows in Gaelic. She froze on the spot, head craned back then swished towards the groom, back and forth Merida stood motionless and some guests chuckled, thinking she merely had the typical cold feet of a bride. The thin strips of stained glass windows proved to be no worthy exit.
The stone walls felt suffocating, and Merida knew the wooden doors behind her was the only option for escape. Having made her choice, she passed a fleeting glance she hoped conveyed the desperate 'I'm Sorry!' she bellowed in her head a million times. "I - I have to leave!"
"Get her, the princess will not leave now and humiliate everyone more than she already has!" Lord Macintosh, uncle to the groom shrieked in a high pitched battle cry as he stood above the heads of the seated crowd of onlookers, who were slowly getting up one by one themselves due to the commotion.
The crazed older man practically hurled himself across the wooden rows of seats, startling several guests. Merida felt his iron grip on her left wrist before she saw it, and felt his breath and murderous spit wash over her. She pulled back at first, then turned and in a surprisingly calm voice stilled in the middle of all this panic, and said; "You were right all along, Lord Macintosh." The man stopped snarling like a dog as he held her in that roasting room, and a perplexed expression crossed his face. That was all the distraction Merida needed to hold everyone's attention, they were all listening intently at her. She made a mental note to avoid her so called 'family's' faces. "You pointed many times that I was neither a true princess nor a blood member of clan DunBroch - I am daughter to Stoic the Vast and his wife Valka, leader of the Hairy Hooligans that dwell upon a land called Berk. I, am a Viking! Now unhand me, you beast."
She couldn't look at Douglas. For weeks, he had spoken of nothing but their future together, the joy their marriage would bring and the many heirs they would produce.
Merida fled and smashed through the doors, leaping onto Angus her trusty steed, she cried out and widened her eyes to look back, and witnessed several blue painted Celts in tartan running outside with a 'yaaaaarrrgghhh' of disapproval of her plan to leave Douglas. The young maiden was aware of how short tempered Macintosh was - even during the betrothal, he'd been openly hostile towards her.
"Get back here you treacherous wench! I'll have your head displayed outside of my castle - no filthy Viking escapes my clutches!' Lord Macintosh declared as she went further and further away from his reach.
Merida had no enthusiasm for a courtly lifestyle and child rearing. The ageing Lord's anxiety over her failings as a traditional wife translated in his constant barbed insults and doubts, vocally directed at her. He had been jovial once, but that was before the security of his clan was at stake because Merida so obviously didn't want to marry.
'You'll never be as great as Queen Eleanor, so why try?' Was her last thought as she angled herself low against Angus, who'd charged across the cobbled path leading Merida further and further away from DunBroch. Her home. 'Not anymore,' was the icy inner retort she produced.
"Come on Angus, let's get out of here!" Merida ordered.
"Ah!" The red haired lass closed her eyes against the pain, and nearly found herself toppling over her horse as she crested a hill, the band of warriors had bows and arrows directed at her. It was midday by this point, and commoners from the castle who'd crowded outside stared gobsmacked at the chilling scene before them of an unwilling bride being hunted down like an animal.
"Stop, don't hurt her - please!" The wild red-head's heart ached at the sound of Eleanor's pleading, then a cruel; 'She's not your mother, she lied to you,' switched off any kind of empathy she once had in an adrenaline rush of anxiety. She noted that nobody from clan Dingwall, their guests were attacking and for that Merida was thankful. 'Maybe I should have married into that family,' the girl thought in despair.
The sky was a cloudless shade of periwinkle blue, and Merida's sight was directed towards a line of evergreen pine trees that meshed into a seemingly endless blanket of trees as far as the eye could see. 'But it's my only chance,' she reminded herself and harried forward, deep into the unknown.
The shouts and noise of war drums faded, as well as that familiarly terrifying sound of a whizzing arrow. Merida never believed she'd fear the pointed weapon, until she was at the mercy of one herself. Angus slowed into a trot, the danger seemingly not present for much longer, though both human and horse kept their senses on high alert just in case.
The forest may be dangerous, but these were Celts. Tradition was most important, and a frightened girl was not going to stop clan Macintosh from continuing the wedding, tense relations after these events or not.
But she was going home, no matter what it took.
Merida thanked her lucky stars that she wasn't a prim and proper lady. 'But if you were, none of this mess would have happened...' she reminded herself, as Angus huffed and puffed into a trot, exhausted after the pair of them had escaped the dramatic finale to Merida's Celtic wedding with her betrothed, Douglas.
Since she was old enough to take long rides on her own, the further Merida went, the more she learned with experience about the wild. However during her journeys, she had always been prepared - the kitchen maids had always packed her food in case she got hungry, and Merida now did not have that luxury. But as a child, she did pick berries and were taught which foods in the woods were good or bad with her mother.
'God, why do I still call her that?' Merida mentally growled. She held the reigns of her horse a little tighter, face scrunched up in a mixture of confused betrayal of trust and upset towards Fergus and Elinor for lying to her all this time.
Merida's stomach made an 'un-lady like' noise, as if a small creature was inside it. 'I'm hungry...I'd better find something to eat,' Merida decided. She had not dis-mounted her horse Angus yet, just in case the Macintosh clan had gone further than she had expected and were on a wild hunt to assure her return.
But no matter how hard she concentrated on using the survival skills she had gained over the years, Merida had only so far found a fist-full of berries, which was disappointing. She used her ears to listen to running water, but there was no sound even remotely like it, and Merida grew anxious. She'd be reaching the highlands soon...winter was coming, and she wanted to be prepared - the nearest kingdoms belonged to the Dingwall and Macintosh clans. If not them, then there were a clutch of Celtic allies kept in handy. Merida had a feeling that Lord Macintosh wouldn't give up so soon nor on his word to kill her - after all, she was a Viking, and the Vikings were one of the Celts' greatest enemies next to the Romans. She understood that clan Dingwall had been passive at the wedding, and did not hurt her but Macintosh had more influence than them and could easily threaten their alliance if they did not agree to helping in the search.
Merida ate the half of the berries and gave the rest to Angus, for they both needed their strength for the long journey ahead.
'What have I done? I've ruined everything - again.' Merida muttered under her breath. A tear slid down her cheek, as she thought of both of her families. Her poor parents - their lives might be in just as much danger as hers was, they could very easily be killed for treason or some other hogwash, the kingdoms despised Vikings - and the thought of a most treasured ally raising one right under their noses all along must have been inconceivable and a mortifying realization. And the parents she had been kept from, her brother...would they welcome her, or scrutinize her Celtic upbringing?
Merida's mind was so clouded and full of thoughts that she hardly knew that any time had passed at all. She frowned at the darkening sky, and set Angus into a full gallop across the highlands. She was shivering, for Merida had left her cloak along with her bow and arrow inside the castle back in DunBroch. Soon enough, everything dawned on her...she had abandoned the family that had raised her and been through a lot with Merida (despite how she came to be a Princess of DunBroch, she was still grateful that they hadn't killed her and had taken her in as one of their own), she abandoned her kingdoms and former allies, she had abandoned her fiancee-would-have-been-husband-by-now (the poor sod must feel so humiliated now, Merida thought), and she had left with no plan of survival nor motivation either. It was a spur of the moment she now wished she had more time to consider - would she gain anything from this? There was now a slim chance of finding happiness, and Merida knew that now, head hung low as she rode on a winded Angus, tired from fleeing rogue arrows.
Since she was old enough to take long rides on her own, the further Merida went, the more she learned with experience about the wild. However during her journeys, she had always been prepared - the kitchen maids had always packed her food in case she got hungry, and Merida now did not have that luxury. But as a child, she did pick berries and was taught which foods in the woods were good or bad with her mother, along with the help of the castle's Physician.
She'd be reaching the highlands soon...winter was coming, and she wanted to be prepared - the nearest kingdoms belonged to the Dingwall and Macintosh clans. If not them, then there were a clutch of Celtic allies kept in handy. Merida had a feeling that Lord Macintosh wouldn't give up so soon nor on his word to kill her - after all, she was a Viking, and the Vikings were one of the Celts' greatest enemies next to the Romans.
"What have I done? I've ruined everything - again." Merida muttered under her breath. A tear slid down her cheek, as she thought of both of her families. Her poor parents - their lives might be in just as much danger as hers was, they could very easily be killed for treason or some other hogwash, the kingdoms despised Vikings - and the thought of a most treasured ally raising one right under their noses all along must have been inconceivable and a mortifying realization. And the parents she had been kept from, her brother...would they welcome her, or scrutinize her Celtic upbringing?
Since she found out about her true heritage, Merida was confused with feelings of both spite and love for her family. It unnerved her that a deep rooted hatred had began to sprout, and it clashed with her devotion. She continued onward into the deepening night, mind fixed on her destination.
Had it been days, weeks, months? Merida did not know. Her stomach was used to having a hearty meal fit for a Princess of her status, and so the berries hadn't filled her up for long. She had scavenged for food - even resorting to feeding herself and Angus field mice and birds. It was disgusting, but she had no choice or she'd starve. But it was nearing winter now, and Merida was tired - she had traveled endlessly in search of civilization - but any kingdoms, villages or homes she had discovered so far were allied with the three Scottish clans.
"Thank heavens!" Merida mentally cheered, as she finally spotted another forest after she'd left the one nearby DunBroch. The further she went inside, Merida noted that her noble steed Angus was growing more and more anxious with every step of his heavy hoof. Suddenly, Merida was thrown back onto the dirt, as an unseen winged creature fled from a tree and scared away Angus.
"A-Angus - come...back!" Merida's strangled scream called desperately, though it was barely a cry for she did not possess the energy for such a strong vocalization. As she tried to support herself, Merida finally realized how weak she had become during her travels - with her horse Angus to keep her steady, she hadn't needed much of her strength during her time in the highlands.
Now completely spent, Merida was motionless - draped along a gigantic tree root. She willed herself to sleep, but had noticed the presence of a person nearby. Who was this? An ally, an enemy? There was no fine line between the two of them now. She forced herself to speak, to explain herself - anything to get some help!
"Wedding...ran. No - no food. Travelling, and h-h-hiding for days and days and...urgh!" Merida's stomach gave a lurch as she gasped out the words, breathing heavily with tears in her half crazed eyes. Everything was hurting to much! She was starved of food, so much that despite being ready to hurl she had nothing in her clenched body to throw up. As she looked at the individual, she could see it was a young man that appeared to be about her own age stare back at her, flabbergasted - his skin was fair, with green eyes and auburn hair. She wondered who he was.
"Hey, hey, hey! Look, I'll help you - I'll take you back to Berk. My name's Hiccup, don't worry. What's yours?" Hiccup as in, her brother Hiccup? Merida couldn't believe her luck! She had to say something before she left the conscious world around her. It didn't sound like a very common name, she heard that Vikings gave their children fierce names in the hopes that they'd excel in feats of strength and battle. Hiccup did not sound like an ordinary Viking name.
"Merida, my name is Merida." She gasped with all of the strength she could muster, until her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she crumpled, limp like a puppet devoid of its strings in Hiccup's arms.
