Disclaimer: I don't own Hiccup or Merida, obviously. I'm not making any money off this. Both characters and the movies they come from belong to Dreamworks and Disney, respectively. If you really want to see something to blow you away, go watch the movies. Then think about these two interacting. Then you'll see what I mean.
CROSSING THE HORIZON
A Worthy Dance Partner
Merida's sword whistled as it swung to her opponent. The wooden blade made contact with a satisfying crack. She stabbed again and again, relishing in the fierce burn in her limbs. After a few minutes, she spun low, tried to come up underneath the guard of her opponent—and fell in an ungraceful heap in the practice courtyard. Merida groaned, sitting up, "This cursed dress…!" The beautiful gown was now sweat-stained and soiled from her tumble. Merida had loved the gown when her mother had given it to her for her birthday. It was a rich green gown with loose sleeves embroidered in silver. Best of all, it wasn't too tight. Merida could move in it unlike the blue prison she wore for her betrothal feast last year. But now, Merida realized that while she could dance, eat, and walk in this dress, running and fighting were out of the question.
Merida glared up at the practice dummy. It was just as well that there was no one in the courtyard. Her birthday feast was still in full swing though it had already been an hour since Niall's ballad and her subsequent escape. Though the walls of the castle were thick, Merida could hear music, laughter and the occasional line of Niall's new ballad streaming from the great hall. Embarrassment still paralyzed Merida. The princess had been unable to face any of her guests and she'd been frustrated that she couldn't. Her birthday feast was supposed to be the time she showed the lords how much she matured. Yet here she was—playing in the dirt like she was ten years old again.
The princess stood and batted at the dust on her gown. "It's all right," she muttered, trying to convince herself, "No one's been turned into a bear. No one's declaring war. You're doing just fine." The dirt clung stubbornly to her skirt no matter how hard Merida hit it. She continued brushing it off, growing angrier every minute. "Just… get… off!" she hissed.
The sudden bright blue glow of a wisp arrested her movement. Merida stayed very still as the ghostly flame flickered in and out, its unearthly light bright in the gloom of the night. After a few moments, she held out her palm and the wisp descended to her hand. The princess chuckled.
"Finally come to visit me in the castle, have you?"
The form rippled in her hand. It was a movement she had grown very familiar with in the year past.
"You know I can't come out with you tonight." Merida fought to keep a stern expression, though she couldn't help the longing in her voice. Tonight would have been a perfect night to follow the wisps and see what new ruin or peak they lead her to.
Wisps had begun appearing in increasing numbers to Merida ever since the incident with the Mor'du. At first, it had startled the princess (and Angus), but the wisps almost always disappeared when she came closer. But with each ride through the glen or swim in the river, the wisps had grown friendlier and bolder until finally they started showing Merida secret paths, hidden pools and even ruined castles. Merida had come to view them less as harbingers of fate and more as curious, helpful and always unpredictable creatures. She could never tell what they would show her and they always disappeared when someone else was with her.
The wisp flickered and its eerie, almost imperceptible whispers rose like an ominous wind. It made Merida wary. The wisps usually didn't insist without good reason.
"My mum will kill me if I abandon my own—"
The clop clop of hooves striking cobblestone caused the princess to look up in the gloom. The wisp disappeared instantly. She'd been so concentrated on the wisp that she hadn't even noticed her surroundings. The first thing that arrested her attention was the horse. It was a beautiful animal, just a shade shorter than Angus, with fine bones and long elegant legs. Though it lacked Angus's girth, something in the way the animal carried itself let Merida know it wasn't a dainty palfry; it moved with the confidence that only the fastest, fiercest horses in a herd possessed. Its calm, dark eyes flicked to her curiously then rolled back to the man in front of it. Merida was surprised to see that it was Andres and even more surprised to find that he wasn't leading the horse by bridle. The animal was following the Roman all on his own.
Merida stood up, unconsciously gripping her wooden sword tight in one hand. "What are you doing here?" she asked. Merida wasn't sure if her tone was devoid of scorn, but she'd been caught off guard. She'd been so overcome by her own frustration that she'd completely forgotten about the Romans.
It had been many months since Merida had seen the Roman General stationed beyond Antonine's Wall. The Romans had been one of the Highlands' enemies in times past. Still was, if you asked any of the lords, but that was more bluster than anything else. The last great Roman incursion happened in Fergus's youth when he could barely swing a sword straight. The clans had been crippled by their petty feuds and rivalries, but they had the advantage of knowing their terrain well and the foolishness of a legate who liked to wear a distinctive golden helmet that made him a particularly irresistible target. A general soon came to replace the legate who lost his helmet and his head (courtesy of the then-young Lord Dingwall). But it was the warriors from Clan DunBroch that the newly replenished Roman forces first faced. Everyone expected a bloody battle, but instead Titus proposed a truce with the Highland clans beginning with Clan DunBroch. When Fergus's father asked about the Empire, Titus had famously said, "Damn the Emperor. I serve Rome. As I see it, there's more in common between two enemies on the battlefield than they have with their emperors and their lords. We'll keep to our sides and that'll be the end of it." And so it was. Even when the Viking hordes swept through the Highlands and nearly devoured all the clans, Rome stayed south of Antonine's Wall.
Nearly 15 years had passed since the unification of the Highlands and in that time, the king and queen slowly came to develop a tentative relationship with their neighbor to the south. The years had turned Titus's hair snow white and harsh winters carved deep lines around his face, but his dark eyes were always alert and watchful. By the gracious invitation of the king and queen, he and a small retinue had even come to visit a few times in the past for important celebrations or social events. Merida liked the grizzled general, though she knew many of the lords did not. Maudie often said that Romans were treacherous, manipulative and condescending but Merida had never seen these qualities in Titus. He was practical and blunt to the point of rudeness, but Titus was true to his word. Elinor called him the honorable eagle—the only outlander worth treating with. Nowadays, the only Romans to be found in the Highlands were the few messengers Titus trusted to carry his even fewer missives to the king.
Until now.
Andres stopped to stare at her. His eyes swept her up and down, from the dirt in her skirt, to the sword in her hand to the fierce expression on her face. Merida's face heated but otherwise she was proud that she didn't flinch. The Roman shrugged and pointed to his horse. Merida's brow furrowed and unwillingly, she stepped close. She didn't like the Roman, but the animal was a thing of beauty.
At her approach, both man and beast stilled, watching her warily. Merida held up her hand cautiously. She kept her eye on the animal; it huffed but otherwise remained still. She approached it slowly, like she would a wild animal, and gently lifted a hand. The horse lifted its muzzle and sniffed her hand curiously. It rolled its eyes to Andres who remained motionless, watching Merida. But Merida was only paying attention to the horse. She hummed to the animal a low song she knew Angus liked to hear. The horse pricked its ears and huffed before butting its head against Merida's hand. Delighted, the princess stroked the animal's face, fingers sliding against a glossy coat.
"You are a beauty, aren't you?" she crooned. "Where did you come from? Och, if only I had something to give you." As if understanding her words, the animal sniffed her curiously all over, exactly the way Angus did when he was wondering if she had any hidden treats. Merida laughed. "Oh, I wish I could ride you."
Andres released a breath Merida hadn't even realized he was holding. The sound drew her attention and she blinked up at the Roman who was watching the girl and beast. They were closer now than they had been at the feast, with only the horse between them. Despite the gloom, or maybe even because of it, she allowed herself to trace his features—dark, serious brows slightly curved in surprise, the sharp cheekbones and jaw, the lips slightly parted. It made Merida proud that she'd been able to confound him. He probably thought she was a delicate thing who was scared of horses. "I've never seen a horse like him before. Where did you find him?"
Andres shrugged.
Merida rolled her eyes. "We'll get along much faster if you stopped pretending to be dumb."
His response, when it came, was slow and measured, "I understand your tongue, but speak it ill."
"Mhmm." Starfall bumped into her middle again. She stumbled but regained her balance quickly. "Why were you walking him?"
There was a moment's pause then Andres said, "Your stablemaster was drunk and his boys were worse at their cups. I had my man take care of our horses, but Starfall needs a steadier hand."
"So you take care of your own horse?" Merida was impressed despite herself.
"Starfall is the fastest and cleverest horse I've ever ridden." There was no sense of arrogance in his voice; he said it in the way a man might say that the sky was blue. "He's been my constant companion. I—" Andres shook his head before placing a hand on Starfall's muzzle as well, just above Merida's own hand. "I like taking care of him."
In spite of how he'd acted earlier in the evening, Merida smiled at that. "I take care of my horse too. Angus has been with me since I was very young. We grew up together."
"Did you always know I spoke your language?"
Merida smiled curved into a smirk, "Only after you gave General Titus's present and I spoke to you."
Instead of being insulted, Andres nodded like he acknowledged the hit, "Well spotted." His lips curved into the faintest grin as he turned his attention to Starfall who butted against him. It was odd. Here, in the darkness, with a stranger not only to her but to her land and people, she finally felt like she was being seen—not as a princess, but as Merida.
The princess didn't understand why, but she liked seeing him smile. It made him seem less strange and intimidating and more like someone she could like. "I bet Angus and I are faster than you and Starfall," Merida said boldly then blinked. Did she actually say that? Was she actually considering spending time with a Roman?
He gave her a long, considering look, face close to Starfall's muzzle. "You'll find I excel at games, Princess," he said, "I play to win."
"I've never liked losing either."
Andres's eyes snapped to her face, surprise and something strange, some emotion Merida couldn't name, in his eyes. His breath left him in a huff, "Children don't like losing." He started walking again and Starfall followed obediently.
Merida blinked at his abrupt change in attitude and pursed her lips. "Scared to find out who's the better rider then?"
"Starfall is a warhorse," Andres called back, still turned away, "not a child's plaything."
A burst of anger sparked inside Merida, a reaction more intense than she'd expected his words to incite. "Angus is not a plaything and I am not a child!"
"You act like one," he said. "All bluster and fire; no control, no foresight. Just like your sword-fighting." He said the last word with just the smallest amount of emphasis that implied a depth of derision.
"I challenge you to say that to my face!"
"I believe I just did."
"Not with words, you coward. With a sword."
"That would be inappropriate," said Andres, pausing in his walk to bow to her. "Princesses are delicate." The Queen herself could not have achieved a more tranquil face and tone than his even as his words hit Merida's pride like darts.
Merida tossed up an extra wooden sword laying on the ground with her foot and threw it at him. He caught it only inches from his face. Starfall whickered softly. "What was all that about delicate?" Merida asked, easing into a offensive posture.
The Roman eyed her for a beat then turned away. Merida thought he was going to ride off in high dudgeon, but the Roman simply undid his cloak and put it on his horse. When he turned to face her, there was a subtle shift in his movements—like a predator beginning to circle his prey. Merida felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. He was not a very tall man, like her father Fergus, but his physique and his movement suggested tightly wound energy like a snake about to strike. The Roman eased into her little practice arena and tested the wooden blade with a few swings. "Perhaps not so delicate, after all." His lips quirked showing a flash of white, even teeth. "The lords will want you fit for birthing strong young boys to succeed them."
Merida attacked with a shout. He blocked her every swing, eyes calm. For a few minutes, the only sound was that of their wooden blades clashing. Merida had never faced an opponent like him. In a world where stronger, bulky men dwarfed Merida, she often used her size and speed to great advantage. But the Roman was equally fast, she realized, perhaps even more so. He moved well and was quick to realize patterns or feints. He made Merida work for every blow. Despite herself, Merida found herself beginning to smile. He was a rare and worthy opponent.
"Your footwork is excellent," Andres said as he circled her.
She maintained the distance between them, a small smile on her lips as she matched him stance for stance. "I could say the same."
"But you should be looking at my face and not my sword," said the Roman before lunging forward. Merida parried the blow with some effort. Her wrist and arm ached.
"I don't care for your face," Merida panted. "It's the sword I'm worried about."
"You worry about the wrong thing." His voice, deep and even, drifted like smoke over the arena. It wasn't an overtly powerful voice but it thrummed in the air for all the lack of volume. "Faces tell you so many things. For example, your eyes narrow before you strike." He parried Merida's thrust then swung his sword in a savage horizontal cut that Merida had to duck followed by a horizontal cut aimed at her legs. Merida jumped to avoid the last cut.
Reluctantly, Merida raised her eyes to meet his. He held her gaze. His eyes were the color of smoke—dark, gray, and unfathomable. She could read no secrets in them. But his face was familiar. She was positive she'd never met him before but something in the way he carried himself, in the outline of his face, reminded her of somebody. A thought tickled the back of her mind but it disappeared when Andres left an opening. Her blow landed.
"Looks like I got you to dance with me after all," she grinned.
"You may regret having me as a dance partner."
"Oh, Roman, you couldn't keep up with me if you tried."
"It's a pity." Andres took a few steps back and reassessing her. Something in his expression, something darker seeping into his features.
Merida felt a warning toll in the back of her mind, but she ignored it in favor of her rising ire. "That you're about to get knocked off your feet by a delicate princess?" asked Merida, pressing her attack. "Aye, it is. Truth hurts, doesn't it? I promise I won't tell General Titus, though."
"I thank you for the courtesy," Andres laughed as he stepped neatly aside to dodge her blow. "Do you think you will be allowed to continue once you marry one of your… fine… lords?"
"You think I'm going to stop so that I won't offend a man's ego? The way I'm offending yours right now?" Merida asked, attacking with a brutal forward thrust. He turned her aside easily and spun to face her. Merida was almost knocked off balance, but he didn't attack. Instead, he watched her ready herself with a strange expression in his eyes. He wasn't amused anymore.
"My wife was a little like you." Merida could not tell what the expression was in his eyes. "She was the finest hand I've ever seen handle a blade."
"You?" Merida's sword wavered. She hadn't thought he was married. "Married a lady who could fight so well?"
"Yes," he replied, sliding into an offensive posture she had never seen before, "but I quickly realized she was more warrior than wife."
"What does that mean?"
He responded dryly, "She used her sword in every fight. But different situations require different weapons." He lunged forward so fast; Merida narrowly avoided missing it. The wooden blade whistled inches from her cheek.
Merida grunted as she knocked his blade away from her, "So what happened to her?"
"She died." He lunged forward again and this time the blow hit her shoulder. For a moment, the pain was so intense it knocked the breath out of her and she stumbled backwards.
Merida said through gritted teeth, "I rather liked your wife." Her shoulder was throbbing from the blow. She hadn't been hit that hard since… she couldn't even remember. She felt her grip on her sword weakening, and she tightened her fingers. She swung a blow and he blocked her, their swords locked. Merida realized her mistake right away. She knew better than to engage in a test of strength with a man; those had never ended well for her.
"Do you really think that any self-respecting lord would let his wife run around like a boy with a wooden sword pretending she's a warrior?" he asked, staring down at her. Damn him, he wasn't even panting for breath. "A lady's duty is to serve her lord and tend to his heirs."
"I should think that any lord I marry would not dare tell me what I can or can't do," Merida spat. He shoved her but Merida was expecting that. She slid against his blow and used it to circle around him.
"Spoken like a queen. But you're not a queen, are you?" He began a series of quick jabs that forced Merida back step by step. Soon, she was backed against the crumbling castle wall. Her bruised shoulder felt weak and watery but still she lifted her sword. Before she could complete the motion, the Roman grabbed her right wrist and slammed it hard against the wall. Merida cried out in pain and her sword clattered to the ground. "You're just going to be a lady."
Merida did the only thing she could think of. She swung her left fist at his face. The Roman let go of her just in time. Merida darted for her sword, but the Roman's blade stabbed deeply into the crumbling castle wall and arrested her dive. She spun for the opposite direction, but his hand struck the wall and pinned her in. Trapped, she glared at him and he surged in so close she felt his breath against her ear. "You can fight, you can scream, you can avoid the lords all you want, but all you are, all you'll ever be, is the wife of some dimwit who thinks himself important," he said, voice low and penetrating. "Beneath all the declarations of love and courtship, all you are is a way to the crown and a way to get an heir."
Merida felt the pounding in her heart, blood surging through her veins, galloping, whispering a hundred different things she couldn't understand. She felt shock at his rough handling—his dominance—knew she'd never been treated this way by anyone; she felt a hopeless, helpless fury at his words whiting out every logical thought process in her brain until all she wanted was to hurt him, smash his face against a rock, claw his eyes out; and she felt heat coiling low in her belly, a sensation she'd never felt before and somehow, in her heart, Merida knew things would never be the same again.
When Andres withdrew, he did so slowly. The dark curls slowly pulled back, then the long line of his jaw and then his lips were in her line of sight. An instinct pulsed in Merida that made her draw a breath and when she looked up, he saw his eyes register her reaction. He paused, long enough for Merida to shove him if she wanted, but she didn't. She remained frozen in place.
"You're just a child," he said, lips quirking. The Roman backed away from her. He retrieved her sword and presented it to her with a bow, "I don't think I've said it yet but… Happy birthday, Princess."
It was as if the sword snapped her out of a spell. The princess snatched up the weapon, cheeks flaming. "How dare you?" she hissed. "You're just a messenger; you know nothing!" Only the smallest thread of self-control restrained her from striking him right now. "You may have beat me with a practice sword, but I dare you to stay that to my face when I have my bow and arrows. I've fought against the demon bear Mor'du and my father in combat. I'm not afraid of you!"
The Roman backed up a few more steps to avoid the wild swinging of her sword. His face showed a trace of amusement though his hands were once again held up in surrender. "Truth hurts, doesn't it?" he asked, throwing her words back in her face.
"Listen, you pompous jackanape," she pointed the sword straight at his face. "I've won the right to marry whomever I wish. My fate is in my own hands. Mine! Not with any of the clan lords!"
Surprise rippled through his features followed by a look of intense speculation. His mouth opened but they were interrupted by a familiar voice.
"Merida!" The Queen was hurrying towards them. She looked anxious and Merida cursed. She knew what her mother was seeing now—the princess in a dirty gown accosting a messenger from an esteemed guest. "And—Lord Andres! I apologize. I didn't realize…"
The Roman bowed to Elinor and said in their own tongue, "I was just giving the princess my personal greetings."
If Elinor was surprised by Andres's fluency in their own language, it didn't show in her face. "Of course," the Queen said, face serene. "We thank you for your warm regard." Though her expression was placid, Merida knew that expression on her mother's face. She was thinking quickly. Elinor eyes traveled from Andres, who smiled in return, lingered especially long on Starfall then skated to her own daughter who was still clutching the sword. "Merida," the Queen hissed, "lower your sword."
Andres watched Merida's fist tighten around the sword with a small, secret smile on his face. "Your daughter is a talented sword fighter," Andres said. "I look forward to getting to know her better."
"And you as well," Elinor returned in kind. "Always a pleasure to welcome General Titus's son."
Merida's sword clattered to the ground.
"I don't know what you were thinking," scolded Elinor, as soon as the door shut behind them in the tapestry room. A low fire flickered in the hearth revealing a warm, cozy scene. The mended tapestry depicting the entire royal family and the new tapestry depicting Merida and the queen as a bear hung on opposite walls. The Queen's things were neatly put away in their drawers, cabinets and trunks. A small, glass-paned window was open to let in the cool night air. It would have soothed Merida were it not for the Queen's ire. "Practice sword-fighting with Lord Andres!" Merida opened her mouth to respond, but Elinor bent down and started batting at the dirt stains on Merida's dress. She ignored Merida's protests and tugged sharply at the seams coming undone. "He's a dangerous man and not to be insulted. Why would you tell him you could marry whomever you want?" She spun Merida around and pushed her to the basin full of water. "Go wash your face."
"Dangerous," Merida scoffed. "He's just a messenger."
"Merida…" the Queen said softly. "Didn't you see the crest on his saddle? He's Titus's son."
"I don't care! He's the one insulting me. He said that all I am is a way to the crown and a way to ensure an heir."
"So you told him you were free to marry whomever you wished?" Elinor's brow rose and her lips pursed as Merida splashed water all over her face. "Merida, you can't just tell people that."
"But why not? It's true, isn't it?" Merida asked, face now clean. She turned to her mother whose face was tight with worry.
"Of course, it's true," Elinor sighed. She offered Merida a soft cloth. "But he wasn't entirely wrong."
Merida's outstretched hand froze before it reached the cloth. "What do you mean by that?" Merida asked, voice low and hand sinking.
"You will marry one of these lords," Elinor explained gently.
"But, we agreed that I'd marry the one I loved," Merida began, the words slipping in their haste to get out of her mouth. It was the freedom she wrested for herself over a year ago, the truth and hope she clung on to throughout the endless lessons, the countless dinners, meetings and the letters and the decisionmaking, throughout every awkward stroll or dinner or dance with all of the young lords. "We agreed that I'd marry the one who won my heart."
"One of the young lords will win your heart," the Queen said, stepping closer. Her voice was calm and soothing, the way it was when she wiped away Merida's tears over a broken toy or a lost game. She began drying Merida's face. "He will love you. You will bear his children and rule his house. You will be a fine lady, a wonderful wife and an amazing mother." Then her expression changed and she added, "I don't see how any of this merits a sword in Lord Andres's face."
"Is that all I'm going to be, Mother?" Merida asked, her face carefully blank. "Is that my fate?"
"What's wrong with that fate? That was my fate and your grandmother's," she said, "We are happy."
"And my archery and riding out with Angus, will that be taken away from me?"
"I'm sure your husband will let you do those things," Elinor responded, brushing Merida's hair back from her face, "But you may be too busy, dear."
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who read/reviewed/favorited/followed the story! For the guest who complimented me on the historical accuracy, an extra enthusiastic thank you and a big hug! I worked hard to ground this fic as much as possible in realism even though I'm pretty much dancing with historical eras. I've researched Scottish geography, Viking raids, the end of the Roman Empire and God knows what else. It's been fun but also a lot to pack in to enrich a story. To Shadowmaster, Valka/Valhallarama is truly dead dead in my story. I can't make any promises about Corona and Arendelle (as this fic is super long already without involving two other kingdoms), but watch out for mentions :)
I should have mentioned this before, but CROSSING THE HORIZON is the larger story in which the snippets of LIMINALITY take place. Please check out that story if you want to see Hiccup and Merida interacting right away. They still have a ways to go before they meet each other, but hopefully the payoff will be worth the wait :)
Finally, I post snippets of upcoming chapters or thinky thoughts regarding the story on my account nessalk in tumblr. If you want to see more, come check it out!
