AN: Thanks so much to everyone that left comments last week, they totally made my day/s! I absolutely love hearing what you guys think of how the story is unfolding, as well as your hopes/theories for things to come, so please keep it up! They definitely help me continue writing, so it's in your best interest to drop a review, yeah? ;D


Heart of a Scot, Soul of a Dragon
Chapter Twelve: Her Brother's Keeper

After having spelled Healer Selma for a couple of hours so she could get some time away from their patients, Merida's feet were dragging with exhaustion. Three nights in a row of intense stress, a reversed sleep schedule, and precious little rest when she did have time were finally starting catch up with the princess. On her way to her own bed, she decided to stop and find Dagur first to make sure her father didn't keep him running til dawn. Besides caring for her friend's well being, he'd be precious little help if he were dead on his feet come morning.

Spying the viking up on the wall and no longer in her father's company, Merida hurried after him. He didn't hear her call his name, though, and disappeared into the back section of the castle by the time she made it up the stairs. Lifting her skirts a little, she picked up the pace, intent on chasing him down however tired she might feel.

Just before she reached an intersection in the hall, she realized she heard voices ahead; angry ones that brought her up short before she actually walked around the corner. Instead, she stopped and listened.

"You're mad," the first voice snarled, and Merida immediately pegged it for an irate Aodhan.

"You're really gonna have to come up with some new insults, arguing with you is starting to get boring," Dagur countered. On the surface, his voice seemed light and uncaring, but the princess could hear a dangerous edge just below it. The young lord was close to pushing the viking too far after too many nights of too little sleep.

"That stupid stunt could have gotten you killed," Young Macintosh continued, ignoring the other man's jab. "Then where would we be?"

Dagur scoffed. "According to you, a lot better off," the redhead snapped. From where she hid around the corner, Merida flinched a little, remembering what her friend had told her of his treatment by Aodhan when he was away from Dunbroch.

"We'd all be dead without you," Aodhan ground out reluctantly, surprising Merida enough that she actually dared to peek cautiously around the corner. As expected, the men were standing toe-to-toe again, noses scant inches apart as they stared one another down. They both looked flushed and furious; it was a miracle the tapestry hanging behind Dagur hadn't burst into flames under the combined heat of their glares. "The King would be dead without you, and we'd not stand a chance if you hadn't been here."

"Odin bless, the little lord think's I'm useful," Dagur said in a mocking falsetto as he clasped his hands before him. He dropped them again just as quickly, though, and continued in a deadpan voice, "Yay."

Aodhan looked frustrated enough to punch the viking, and judging by the way he clenched his white-knuckled fists at his sides, Merida got the feeling he was only just managing to refrain. "Yeah, you are useful, which means you can't go jumping off the bloody wall like some jakey dobber!" the young lord insisted, voice rising to a shout by the time he made it to the end of his sentence.

As she watched, something changed in Dagur's face. "What do you care?" he demanded angrily and jabbed Aodhan in the chest with a finger hard enough to make the other man wince.

"I said-" the young lord began as he was forced to take a step back when the viking took one forward, advancing on him like a predator.

"No," Dagur cut him off, voice sharp and growing in volume. "What do you really care, pretty boy? I'm just viking trash; what's my life to you?"

Young Macintosh grit his teeth. "Quit calling me that, you stupid-"

"What?" Dagur asked innocently, though the way he narrowed his eyes and stepped in closer to the other man was anything but. His voice went deep and velvety in a way Merida had never heard before; it made even her toes curl as he murmured, "Pretty boy." She couldn't imagine how Aodhan felt being on the receiving end of it.

The young lord's back was almost against the wall now, and a deep blush was crawling up the column of his long neck to his cheeks and ears. When Dagur advanced another step, putting them nose to nose again, Aodhan shoved him bodily away and stepped forward himself. "You're off your scabby viking head," he snapped. "Just because it turns out dragons exist doesn't mean you're not bloody mad, Dagur. Everyone thinks it! Gods only know what the king sees in you; if it weren't for him and the princess taking a shine to you, you'd've been turned out on your arse years ago." The young lord's voice was harsh, and his color was still high as he continued, "You're just a charity case! You think they keep you around because you're good with a blade? They just feel bad for you!"

Merida actually considered stepping around the corner and putting a stop to the argument at that point, but the set of Dagur's shoulders kept her from doing so. The man might be her best friend, but somehow she got the feeling that her presence would be distinctly unwelcome at that point. In fact, she really oughtn't be listening in at all.

On the other hand, if one of them wound up trying to kill the other, it'd be better if there were someone around to try and stop them…

"Good enough to knock you on your sorry arse," Dagur countered as he pushed back again, making Aodhan's back hit the wall with a dull thump.

"That was luck," the lord growled and bared his teeth. "Meet me on the field again, and-"

"Thor's hammer," the viking snapped, "Could you just...just shut up for once in your damn life you arrogant bastard!" Dagur commanded, and before Young Macintosh could say another word, the viking pinned him bodily to the wall and claimed Aodhan's lips with his own, effectively silencing him.

The kiss was almost violent, their mouths colliding with enough force to make the lord gasp in pain as tooth met lip, and Dagur's hands grabbed him with strength enough to bruise.

Merida was forced to clap a hand over her mouth to muffle the little gasp of shock that threatened to escape her. A fierce blush immediately overtook her features as she pulled back around the corner she'd been hiding behind, heart jumping in her chest. She'd always had a feeling Dagur liked men (though he'd never actually expressed a particular interest in anyone so far as she knew), but to see him like that with Aodhan of all people was a complete shock.

Suddenly worried that her friend might do something he'd later regret, she peeked cautiously around the corner again, expecting to see Aodhan trying to fight off Dagur's attentions.

To her surprise, the taller man seemed to be doing anything but. As she watched, the lord's fingernails skittered over Dagur's armored shoulders until his fingers found purchase on the straps of the man's chestplate. He used them to drag the viking in closer still, until their bodies were flush, his lean figure trapped between Dagur and the smooth stonework of the wall. Merida's blush only intensified at the low moan that escaped her fellow noble when the viking plunged his tongue into Aodhan's mouth. The erotic sound seemed to embolden Dagur, as he released his restraining hold on the other man's arms and allowed his hands to rove across his shoulders, then down his chest and stomach to his hips.

The shoulder of his kilt knocked askew, Aodhan was breathing hard by the time one of his rival's hands slipped around to his lower back and the other came to rest at the nape of his neck, fingers entangled in the curls of his dark hair. He swore quietly into Dagur's mouth, something that made the viking smirk even as the young lord tore the tie from the shorter man's red hair, freeing it so he could rake his long fingers through it. The tables threatened to turn when Young Macintosh took a fistful of Dagur's hair and used it to pull his rival's head back to an angle that gave him a window to force his tongue into the other man's mouth. The viking's breath caught in his chest, and rather than resenting the shift in power, he used his hand on Aodhan's neck to pull him in deeper.

Hearing voices in the distance, Merida gave a guilty jump and realized that things were about to get rather more out of hand than they really ought to, considering the amorous pair might get walked in on at any moment. The princess glanced around, looking for some way to warn them without actually saying something herself and giving away the fact that she'd been playing a shameless spy.

Spotting a door further back the way she had come, Merida sneaked as quietly as she could towards it, then opened it to a noisy creak of old hinges that hadn't seen oil in years, and slammed it shut with a bang that echoed loudly down the hall.

She waited a moment, then walked back towards where she had left the odd couple, not expecting to find either man when she came around the corner. To her surprise, though, Dagur was still there, hair tie nowhere in sight, staring into the middle distance. Anyone else might have thought he was simply admiring the tapestry that hung before him, but Merida could tell his attention was elsewhere.

"Dagur?" she asked, tone gentle in an attempt not to startle him.

Despite her effort, the man still jumped visibly, and gave her a guilty look. "Mer," he said, one hand going to his chest as he gave her a half-hearted smile. "Scared the life out of me," the man admitted weakly and pushed a few stray strands of hair back from his face. Dagur's lips were swollen and ruddy from kissing, and his color was still high, though not quite so red as Aodhan had been.

"Are you...alright?" Merida asked hesitantly when the man continued to act distracted, his normally keen green eyes vague and unfocused, like he wasn't quite all there in the present with her.

"No," he answered automatically, then gave himself a shake and crashed back to reality as he seemed to realize what he'd said. "What? I mean, yeah...uh-" The viking looked at her then. Really looked at her, and realized the truth. "Oh," he said, shoulders sagging as a pained expression crossed his features. "Oh…you saw."

Merida winced at his realization, guilt churning in her stomach as she nodded apologetically.

Looking more embarrassed and awkward than she'd ever seen him, Dagur asked in small, meek voice, "How much did you see?"

"Um-" the princess muttered, sharing in her friend's embarrassment as she tried and failed to meet his gaze straight on. In the end, all she could do was manage to look even more apologetic.

Dagur's shoulders sagged further in defeat as he sighed and leaned against the tapestry. "All of it, then," he said and let his head drop back against the wall, eyes on the ceiling. "Faaaantastic."

Merida watched as her friend dragged one of his broad hands down his face before rubbing absently at his stubbled jaw. Seeing how troubled he was by the whole affair, not just her witnessing it, the princess swallowed her own awkwardness and took a breath before suggesting, "Come on, let's take a walk."

Her friend glanced at her sidelong and eventually answered, "Only if it ends at the cliffs so I can throw myself off."

A small huff of amusement escaped the young woman as she gently took his elbow and tugged him away from the wall. "Will the tower roof do?" she asked.

The viking seemed to give the suggestion some thought, then allowed her to pull him away and down the hall. "It'll do in a pinch, I guess," he answered.

The pair made the trip in silence, and more importantly, without bumping into Merida's parents or Aodhan. By the time they made it up to the roof, Dagur had pulled himself together and seemed less scatter-brained. Together, they sat near the peak on the wet shingles, shoulder-to-shoulder as they gazed heavenward at the slowly clearing sky. The rain had finally let up half an hour before, but the clouds still lingered.

"So," Merida ventured after some minutes spent in companionable silence while Dagur gathered his thoughts. "Aodhan?"

Dagur cringed. "Aodhan," he repeated with a sigh, looking tired despite the riot of emotions that had taken up residence behind his ribs.

When her friend didn't offer more, the princess offered, "I didn't realize you liked him that way."

"I don't," the viking answered immediately. At Merida's skeptical look, though, he amended, "I didn't." Dagur fell silent for a moment, and the princess left him to his thoughts until he eventually just huffed, threw up his arms and declared, "Odin's beard he just...pisses me off! He wouldn't stop talking and I just wanted to shut him up-"

"What, with your mouth?" Merida asked with an incredulous laugh at his statement.

Again, Dagur's mouth opened before he could put any thought into his answer. "Yes!" The man's lips twisted as though he'd eaten something sour. "No...wait. Gods, I don't know," he said, then slumped forward and planted his forehead on his bent knees, arms dangling helplessly at his sides.

"Oh, Dagur," the princess murmured, then reached over and rubbed gentle circles across her friend's broad shoulders. The viking didn't need much encouragement to lean over until his head landed in Merida's lap. The position left his body at an odd angle across the roof, but he didn't seem to care as he focused very intently on the sturdy, forest green fabric of the woman's skirts and plucked absently at a stray thread. It was one of her older, more practical gowns; with everything that had been happening, it simply wasn't worth wearing anything else.

The viking didn't say anything for a time, and sensing the man's continuing discomfort, the princess allowed him his peace. To fill the silence, though, she hummed quietly to herself and combed her fingers gently through Dagur's unbound hair. The old lullaby about a 'noble maiden fair' was the first thing to come to mind, though she didn't put voice to the words she knew by heart. Still, it was a sweet tune, and between it and Merida's gentle fingers through his hair, the viking relaxed in stages until he was on the edge of sleep.

Eventually, though, Dagur stirred to find his friend braiding some of the fine hairs at the base of his hairline just below his right ear.

"Hey," he muttered and yawned.

Merida paused in her attentions, and said, "Sorry, got a bit carried away." She smiled a little and added, "Normally Mum's is the only hair I get to braid. She has so much it's a chore, though."

"No, it's fine," Dagur answered, then twisted a little so he no longer laid in such a contorted position. His hand went to his hair, fingertips brushing over the small braid before he smiled a little and glanced up at Merida. "You know, it's tradition back home to braid the hair of people you care about like this." There was a certain sadness in his eyes as he told her this. "It doesn't have to be romantic, though it can, of course," he continued. "Lovers do it, mothers do their children, husbands their wives, or even particularly dear friends."

"Really?" she asked curiously as she took up the little braid again and continued her work on it, pale fingers moving deftly along the red strands. "That sounds...sweet," the princess admitted with a smile.

"They're a reminder of the people who care about you, so you can carry them wherever you go," Dagur explained as the young woman finished, then tied the end in a knot so it wouldn't come loose. He gazed distractedly off into the darkness of the night when Merida was done and ran his calloused fingertips over the intertwined strands of his own hair again. "I've never had one before," he admitted softly a moment later.

A sharp pang shot through Merida's heart at his admission, and she had to fight very hard not to reply impulsively in that moment. Her pity, she knew, would be unwelcome. Instead, she asked, "Do one for me?"

Dagur twisted around sharply to glance up at her, green eyes wide with surprise as he watched his best friend reach back into the fall of her wild hair and pull forth a single curl from the many. She pushed the rest out of the way as best she could, then flicked the curl invitingly at him, a shy, but earnest smile on her face and in her big blue eyes.

He stared at her for a moment, seeming caught by disbelief, before scrambling upright. "Yes!" he said, a little more emphatically than he might have wished. "I mean, of course. I'd be...I'd be honored," Dagur clarified a little more moderately. Merida didn't laugh at him, though, only smiled a little wider and offered him her hair.

"You know how, right?" she teased him to lighten the mood. He just gave her a flat look as he proceeded to part her long, red-gold curl into three sections. The princess chuckled, and turned her attention to the stars above so Dagur would better be able to do his task. Long as it was, her hair took more time to braid, and while her friend worked, Merida ventured, "When you're ready to talk about Aodhan, you know I'm here for you, right?"

Dagur paused at her words, then pressed on in his task as he sighed and admitted, "Even I don't know how I feel about that idiot right now."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Merida's lips and she reached out and patted her friend's knee as she replied, "That's okay too. You don't have to rush."

There was more silence, and then, "Thanks, Mer."

The princess glanced sidelong at him and said, "Well, that's what best friends are for, right?"

Dagur's gut twisted at her words, but not in a bad way. He loved the princess deeply, with the sort of affection he'd only ever attributed to Heather before meeting Merida. He felt a little guilty thinking it, considering he and Heather were related by blood, but Dagur knew the princess of Dunbroch better than his own sibling, and loved her all the more for it. To hear her express such affection towards him, to want to braid his hair and have him do hers in turn...his heart felt full enough to break.

"Yeah. Yeah it is," he murmured, dropping his eyes to save him the embarrassment of Merida seeing just how deeply her words had touched him. He finished her braid, and tied it off carefully to make sure it didn't unravel, then watched as his friend inspected his handiwork.

"Not half bad," she said as she ran the little plait between her fingers.

"Glad my token of heartfelt affection manages to pass muster," Dagur mused, voice teasing as he watched her.

Merida just laughed, then caught her friend completely off guard by leaning in and planting a kiss on his cheek. "Come on, we should get to bed. Long day ahead of us, tomorrow," she said and got to her feet.

The viking reached up to steady her, then got up as well and followed her back to the stairs. "I wasn't going to say anything, but you could use a little beauty sleep."

"Oi!"


The dregs of the previous night's storm had cleared by dawn, leaving the air fresh, sharp, and cool as Dagur hiked his pack up a little on his shoulder and strode across the courtyard to the stables.

There wasn't much in the bag itself, since they weren't planning on being gone overnight. Just some emergency rations, water, a fire starter, and some first aid supplies. Once upon a time he had been the sort to charge ahead, heedless of any potential harm to himself or the men that followed him. These days, though, he found himself wondering at his own foolhardiness. Maybe it was the near death experience that had done it, or, he thought as he spotted Merida leading Angus out of his stall, maybe he'd just finally realized that if he wanted to protect the people he cared about, he needed to keep himself in one piece.

Merida smiled at him as she adjusted her steed's saddle tack one last time to make sure Angus wasn't trying any tricks, then asked, "Sleep alright, Dagur?"

"Like a baby," the viking answered truthfully as he ran one broad hand over the horse's neck and shoulder in greeting. When he'd reached his bunk in the guard house, Dagur had half expected to be kept up, tossing and turning for the rest of the night after everything that had happened. Some combination of physical and mental exhaustion had conspired against that idea, though, and the man had dropped off so fast that he didn't even remember his head hitting the pillow. He hadn't so much as rolled over in his sleep until Harris, Hubert, and Hamish had come to wake him just before dawn.

The triplets had followed him about the barracks as he collected his things and decided what else to bring. He'd left behind his heavier armor in favor of traveling light. Since he and Merida planned to ride a single steed (his decision, after pointing out the night before that it'd be easier if one of them could fight while the other kept Angus under control, should they be attacked), he'd figured that fewer extra pounds would be better in the long run.

He smiled at the princess over Angus' saddle and remarked, "You're looking lovely as ever, so I'll assume the same for you."

The viking's flattery startled a laugh out of Merida and she swatted him with the reins she had already attached to her horse's bridle. "Off with you, ya nyaff," she commanded him, still grinning. Truth was, she'd had a restless night, full of nerves over their mission. Thoughts of what they would do if the witch refused to help them, or worse...if they couldn't find her at all, had plagued the princess' dreams, and woken her more than once.

Merida's eyes landed on the tremendous hole that still remained in the East wall. Men of both clans had taken shifts in patching it with the rubble of its sad remains throughout the night, but it was still a frightening gap in their defense.

Dagur caught where she was looking, then reached out and tugged lightly on the slender braid he'd left in her hair where it draped over her shoulder. "Come on," he said, "The sooner we go, the sooner we can be back with help."

Her eyes met his and she seemed to take his words to heart. She nodded, her lips pressed into a firm line as she found her famous determination once more (pig-headedness, he'd called it more than once out of frustration in more dangerous moments), then lead Angus towards the gate where they saw a small group of people waiting to wish them luck.

The triplets stood first and foremost, and they made a rush for Merida as soon as she got close. Just behind them, though were Fergus and Elinor, accompanied by a handful of well wishers from both clans and, to Dagur's barely contained surprise, Aodhan.

Merida smiled down at her little brothers as she wrangled each in turn, and planted a kiss on their curly heads. They put up only a token objection to this, for the look of things while they hugged their dear sister about the legs, then jumped to give Dagur the same treatment. The viking's eyes threatened to tear up at this, so he gave them each a gruff goodbye as he tousled their hair.

"We'll be back before you know it," Merida told them confidently. "You won't even notice we're gone," she said, "But make sure you don't make things harder for mum and dad while we're gone, alright? Dagur and I are heading off to bring help, but you have to help too, alright?"

The boys shared a look among themselves that forced Dagur to hide a grin behind his hand lest he ruin the attempted solemnity of the moment. Eventually, though, they nodded, then stepped aside so the king and queen could approach.

Without so much as a by-your-leave, Fergus swept Merida up in a hug that made her grunt with the tightness of it. "No need to be so dramatic, Dad!" the girl wheezed from where she was pinned against her father's chest. "We'll be back by tonight!"

The Bear King paid his daughter's words no mind as he carefully released her, and leveled a fierce glare at Dagur, who blinked in surprise. "You take good care of her, lad, or it's your head on a pike."

Before the viking could so much as open his mouth to object to the implication that he wouldn't fight to the death for his best friend, Elinor stepped in and said, "Fergus, be kind. Dagur has always done his best by Merida."

Now it was the queen who received a look of surprise from Dagur. Attention focused on her, he realized that Elinor was carrying a bundle in her arms.

She smiled at him as she saw him take note of her burden. "I'm afraid I owe you an apology, Dagur," Elinor said with a soft smile.

"What?" he asked, confused. "Why?"

The queen chuckled a little at the young man's obvious befuddlement. "Because," she said, "I waited far too long to give you this. You've long since earned your place here at Dunbroch, and it was unkind of me to withhold it from you. After last night, though, I realized my error in full and can only say that I am sorry I did not give this to you sooner."

As Dagur watched, Elinor drew away the plain covering she'd used to hide her gift, only to reveal another swath of fabric beneath. The man was fairly certain his heart skipped a beat at the sight of the shades of green, purple, and red that blended and interwove in the distinct plaid pattern unique to Clan Dunbroch.

Beside him, Merida let out a little gasp, "Oh, mum," she murmured, beaming broad as day from Elinor to Fergus, and then to Dagur, who was still staring at the proffered length of cloth. "Well go on, you numpty! Put it on!" she said, full of eager delight as she nudged him excitedly with her elbow.

Startled from his reverie, the viking flushed and glanced from Merida, to her parents, and for some reason he couldn't put a finger on, to Aodhan. The lord looked almost as surprised as Dagur himself, but Elinor just chuckled and unfolded the kilt as she said, "Let me teach you."

In a hurry as they were, the queen wrapped the kilt around Dagur's waist, over his armor and pants with deft hands as she gently explained what she was doing. When she was done, the viking looked downright Scottish, clad in Dunbroch's colors with his sword at his hip once more as Elinor attached a simple kilt pin as the finishing touch.

"There now, don't you look fine?" she asked with a smile. "We'll find you a proper pin when you come back," she added, "It was the best I could manage on short notice, I'm afraid."

"It's-" Dagur began, but words failed as he glanced down and let one hand drift across the soft fabric that fell across his broad chest, and then the silver pin. "I, uh..." the viking cleared his throat sharply and gave the king and queen a low bow. "Thank you," he finally managed. The simple words couldn't begin to truly express his gratitude for their acceptance into their clan, but he hoped the heartfelt emotion that was plain in his voice went some way towards doing so.

"Och, cut it out," Fergus said, sounding a little choked up himself as he dragged Dagur upright, and gave him an affectionate shove that landed him right in Merida's arms.

"Welcome to the family!" she said with a giddy laugh and threw her arms around him in a tight hug that quite possibly rivaled the one her father had given her just moments before.

Dagur bit down fiercely on the inside of his cheek and wrapped the girl up in his arms just as tight and bought a moment to collect himself by burying his face in her thick mane of wild red hair. When he pulled back he smiled broadly at her, and said, "You'll never get rid of me now."

Merida just laughed and pushed him away while those who had gathered to wish them well on their journey applauded and did so before going their separate ways. The king and queen didn't linger long either, both apparently realizing that if they didn't leave first, they were unlikely to actually allow their firstborn leave at all. Elinor pressed a kiss to her daughter's cheek, and gave her a far more gentle hug than her father had, then followed the Bear King back to the castle.

The triplets had already vanished by that point, but to both their surprise, Aodhan remained.

"Be careful," he told Merida, clearly sincere in his words as he looked down at her for a moment, then offered her his hand.

The princess accepted it readily, and clasped his forearm tightly as she asked, "Take care of the place while I'm away, will you?"

"You have my word," Young Macintosh said. He didn't so much as look at Dagur until Merida glanced surreptitiously between them, then stepped away and began to lead Angus toward the gate.

Dagur started to follow her after an uncomfortable moment of silence passed between himself and Aodhan. To his surprise, though, the taller man side-stepped to block his path, making the Viking look him full in the face for the first time since their...encounter the night before.

"Don't-" the young lord began, then hesitated awkwardly. He grit his teeth, though, and reluctantly ground out, "Don't die." Before the moment could do anything so embarrassing as turn sentimental, Aodhan punched Dagur as hard as he could in the shoulder, then strode off as though he'd never said anything at all.

The viking winced and grabbed his arm at the sudden attack,then spun on heel to watch the other man go, a little at a loss for words. Before he could get out of earshot, though, Dagur managed to say, "You too."
It might have just been wishful thinking on his part, but for a moment, he swore Aodhan actually hesitated.


AN: Ahaha, I've been looking forward to posting this chapter for ages X'D Hope you guys enjoyed it! If so, please make sure to drop a review telling me so! They really make my day, help me keep writing fanfiction, and only take you a moment to do! Think of it like leaving a tip, lol. I work really hard on all my writing, so it's really nice to get feedback on what I'm doing!