Chapter 11: Merida's POV

Where Merida ruminates on old thoughts and gains some new ones.

A/N:

Joana Ceddia came back from the dead before I finished this chapter. I weep T-T

Enjoy the chapter! Please review and tell me your thoughts!

One would think that crying all the feelings out would mean that there would be none left afterwards. But that's not true. What the crying really did was get enough feelings out of the way that the realization of other important things could surface. Things such as consequences. And shame. And the guilt of revealing those feelings to begin with.

Was it possible to get rid of the guilt through more crying? If it were, then Merida was willing to do it, if only so she wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. But by the time she thought that, her tear ducts had finally decided enough was enough and they needed to take another one month vacation to recover from such an episode.

So there she lay, head in her arms, face dry and eyes red-rimmed. She was draped over the couch cushion, legs tucked up beneath her on the carpet. Next to her head was Clary's knee, unmoving from where she'd been listening to Merida.

"So to surmise, you got frightened by a stranger, made the worst assumptions about said stranger, and then proceeded to yell at her until both of you cried?"

A dry sniff, followed by a nod.

"That's … unfortunate."

Stupid. She'd been about to say stupid. She hadn't said it, but Merida still heard it.

Clary shifted, her weight dipping the cushions as her hand found Merida's head. "I don't think I know you that well yet. But I do know that this isn't like you." Even when she couldn't see her, Merida could still feel her eyes on her. "What's going on with you?"

Merida inwardly cringed. She hated questions like this. The ones who often asked them either wanted something out of her or wanted her to stop being so difficult for once. They'd pretend to listen and be uncomfortable when Merida finally revealed her thoughts, and Merida would be uncomfortable revealing them so what was even the point.

Because you want someone to listen. You want them to care. A voice inside of her whispered. And Merida had had enough of keeping everything inside. Clearly, ignoring her feelings wasn't helping her.

And now someone had offered ...

"… Ever since I came here, I haven't been able to focus on anything. I really don't care about any of these classes, and I hate that my family made me come here. I'm always thinking about that, and it makes me … I always feel so angry – and sad and hurt, and I don't know how to make it stop. I feel ashamed of myself for blowing up at a stranger. I feel ashamed that I made it come to this and it's all my fault."

The problem with keeping thoughts in her head for so long was that they became tangled up. There was more. But they were hard to say. Merida had to dig deep to find them.

"I … I think … I don't feel relieved, but … I think I feel … justified. I feel like I've finally done something that's … that's bad enough for me to be allowed to feel this awful. I don't think I want to do better or make up for what I've done. I don't want to say sorry, I don't want to try or make an effort in this school, I don't want to make an effort at all for anything. Because then that'll mean I'll have expectations for myself or, or hope that things will be better – that I can make things better. But it doesn't feel like … that doesn't … I don't- … I don't feel like I'm good enough for that. I feel like I'm going to mess up everything and disappoint everyone for the rest of my life."

Wonder of wonders, her eyes still had some tears left in them. Merida pressed her face against her jumper sleeves, gulping down the lump in her throat. "I wish my family knew how bad everything's been. I wish they were here or – or that I was back home so I could tell them, and, and I wish they'd care." Her last words came out as a whisper. "I wish I was home … I wish things were better again."

The fireplace crackled. No great change came to the air. Nothing inside of her collapsed. For a long time, Merida didn't speak. She just listened. To her scratchy breathing. To the steady ticking of the ornate clock over the mantle. Underneath those sounds, the strange, deep hum that came from the depths of the lake.

The location of the Slytherin dorm made it so that they lived under the lake, right near its bed. A wide, thick oval of glass and layers of enchantments ensured that they weren't flooded. The water outside wasn't black, as Merida would've thought, but instead a dark, murky green, lit by bioluminescent plants that grew outside the glass and the tiny, shimmering fish that lived within the tall fronds of kelp. And, occasionally, the Merfolk.

They didn't come often. But whenever they did, there were a few students who communicated with them. The way they did it was … unique. Something Merida had never seen before. They would create glowing shapes that flickered in tandem with the movement of their hands, both student and Mer alike, and communicate through the glass.

Merida wondered how many students knew how to do that. She wondered if Clary would be able to show her if she asked. Clary's hand, which hadn't stopped stroking over her head, tucked a stray curl behind Merida's ear. It carried the scent of honeysuckle soap.

"… from my guess, I believe that this is a classic case of homesickness and loneliness." Her fingernail tapped Merida's skin. Merida looked up to see Clary smile down at her. "I think you should contact your family. Send them a letter. Or if that's not enough, you can go see the nurse and ask her about it."

"… Why would I see the nurse?"

Clary leaned back, hand pulling away. "Because the nurse in this school doesn't just deal with physical wounds. She helps sort out personal affairs, too. If you're having problems but you don't feel comfortable taking them to a professor, then you're allowed to go and talk to her or some of the other nurses about it. Trust me, she'll listen to you."

From the light blue bowl in her lap, she picked up a pocket knife and a lump of soap she'd been carving when Merida had stormed into the common room. Other than the two of them, the rest of the dorm was empty. It allowed Merida to lower her guard. To sit quietly as she lost herself in watching Clary's hands scrape details into the soap.

"… you know, that girl said something strange."

"What did she say?"

"It was … about me being an 'awful Slytherin girl'. I mean, she called me other things, too, but why the Slytherin part? I didn't really understand that."

Clary hummed. "… did you ever read those children's books about Hogwarts? The ones with an orphan boy in it."

The last time she'd picked up one of those books had been back when she was 9. Now that she was thinking about it, she remembered she'd stopped reading the first book a few chapters in because the main character boy had gotten on her nerves.

"I might have, but it was years ago." She said.

"What do you remember about how they described Slytherins?"

"That Slytherin is the bad House. That we're all supposed to be selfish, cowardly, backstabbing liars who want everyone else to die."

"Yeah, that about sums it up." Clary chuckled. "Honestly, if the author had wanted convenient antagonists, the least she could've done was be creative about it. Good thing no one actually believes that."

Merida gave her a skeptical look. "Really?"

"Yes, really. No one takes the House rivalries seriously. People are friends with other people. When there aren't special events or holidays happening, they sit at each other's tables and have sleepovers in each other's Houses all the time. Even with games and competitions, the worst the Gryffindors do is some ribbing and teasing, and we just do it right back. I'm pretty sure we've had some of them bunking over here, too, recently. Hadn't you noticed?"

No, she hadn't. She'd been so caught up in her own head that she hadn't paid much attention to others, not when they'd distanced themselves from her and she'd done the same.

"… If that's true, then why did the books do … that?"

"Dramatisation, mainly. An easy way to have a consistent and reliable source of antagonism in a story and thus create tension and make the stakes high enough to be considered riveting. The sad thing about that is that it's pushed to such extremes that it ends up contradicting the values that the House in question is supposed to represent." Clary shook her head. "For example, one thing that the author neglected is that under normal circumstances, Slytherins make a point to get along well with the other Houses."

"What?" This was news to Merida. She sat up, all her attention focused on Clary. "Seriously? You mean that?"

"Well, it makes sense, if you take a minute and actually think about it. Why would someone with survival instincts and a functioning brain voluntarily choose to make enemies out of every person in their immediate surroundings when they could do the opposite? The more open and receptive you are to others, the easier it'll be to set up channels of communication with them. This will allow for access to resources such as information, utilities, allies, opportunities, and even credibility, that wouldn't be possible if such a thing were barred from happening. If that's not the height of self-preservation, then I don't know it. And, well, people like friends. They like being liked. So this benefits both sides."

At the look on Merida's face, Clary grinned. "What? This surprises you? You ever heard of "charming as a snake"? That didn't just pop out of nowhere. Slytherins are some of the most charming, likeable, and agreeable people there are in the school. They're often really popular, second maybe to Hufflepuffs."

Merida opened and closed her mouth. There was more information coming out of this conversation than her brain had absorbed in over a month.

"… and here I was thinking that you were one of the strangest Slytherins I'd ever met. Like, you're so … friendly. And laid back. Aren't Slytherins supposed to be more … I don't know, competitive? Strong willed?"

"Oh, I have my moments, certainly. Frankly, I'd say that the more un-Slytherin aspects of me would have more to do with my lack of self-esteem, slight inferiority complex, and general existential dread."

"I …" Merida paused. She didn't know where to look. Her eyes fell to the bowl with the soap shavings in it and she focused for that. "… I don't think I understood some of that."

Clary shrugged, flicking away a bit of soap. "It's alright. You don't have to. I've been dealing with it for a while. I'll be fine."

"Oh …"

Silence settled between them. The clock chimed the late hour, a gentle sound of bells emerging from it. Merida stared at it and chewed on her lip.

"If what you said was true, then where did all that Slytherin versus Gryffindor rivalry come from? Is all of that fake?"

"It's real. And a lot of it's because our Houses are too similar, in all the worst ways. Both hold strong values, and they're stubborn about it. Both are competitive. Neither likes being bossed around or told what to do. If the Slytherin in question is attention-oriented, then both are dramatic show offs. Of course they'd clash." Clary made a quiet 'hmph' sound.

"And when it comes to our differences, it's all miscommunication and a refusal to compromise. Where Gryffindors don't like that Slytherins bend the rules instead of following them and care more about their personal goals than pleasing their peers, Slytherins think Gryffindors obtuse for not questioning the rules more often and narrow minded for believing that theirs is the only way to do anything. At the best of times, it's silly and avoidable and far less important than things like, say, basic human decency."

While Merida sat digesting that, Clary held her soap up to the firelight and turned it in her hands. She let out a satisfied hum. "… I think this is just about done. What do you think?"

In her hand was a carved bird. Other than the slight details added around its head and wings, it was a very simple carving, but it was made with smooth, even edges.

"It's nice." Merida said. "I think it looks good."

"Thank you." Clary studied Merida for a moment. Her smile took on a mischievous tilt. "Would the wee lassie like a duck?"

Merida raised an eyebrow, less from the accent change and more from the offer. It wasn't that she was in need of a soap duck, but by then there were a few things she'd observed.

That Clary had looked comfortable enough carving the soap for her to have been doing it for a while, and also that if she was giving her creation away so easily then chances were she'd made similar offers to others in the past, too.

Merida shrugged and held her hands out. The duck fit easily in her palm.

"Irish." She stated, without looking up.

"Correct. Half Irish, half black. And both of us have big hair and cute freckles." Clary patted Merida's head and stood up. She wandered away from the couch.

"Where are you going?"

"I just remembered something. You haven't had supper yet, right?" Clary's voice came from the back of the room. A few minutes of rummaging sounds later she returned and dropped a small pile of apples before Merida. "That's from the snack cupboard. Word of advice: don't try using it yourself, or at least not until someone's shown you how it's done. No really, don't."

Clary folded her arms over the back of the couch. "Now then, anything else you want to share?"

Merida paused in the middle of smelling an apple. In all her crying, she hadn't mentioned anything about her bully and how her other classmates were likely avoiding her. A part of her felt embarrassed that she still hadn't found a way to resolve the situation, and even worse that instead of taking action she'd spent her time up until then moping about how miserable she was. So maybe she shouldn't have avoided her feelings until they'd blown up, but she wasn't about to go wailing to the first senior who paid attention to her to fix all her problems. She had some pride.

But something told her that Clary already knew. That maybe a lot more people than she was comfortable with knowing were well aware of it.

Slowly Merida shook her head.

"Then I'm off to bed. Good night."

Merida looked up. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out. "Wait."

Clary turned around. "Hm?"

"I … I was wondering …" Her hands fiddled with the apple. She pressed her thumbs into the surface and sighed. "… if you were to … in your own words, how would you describe Slytherin House?"

"… now there's a question. You know, I don't think I'd ever put words to it."

Clary stared into the fireplace. After a time, she nodded her head.

"To me, Slytherin is the House of Leaders. Intelligent, resourceful, powerful leaders. Who welcome new ideas and new perspectives, and are not so proud that we cannot change our views when given good enough reason. We are steadfast in our goals and value the same in others. Our loyalty is not easily earned, but once it is it stays for life. Regardless of if that loyalty extends to one person or one thousand, we protect our own. No matter what."

And it could be that she'd seen something in Merida's face. It could be that she'd guessed what Merida was thinking about, because her next words felt like they spoke directly to something inside of her that she'd held onto without knowing she'd had it.

"Perhaps we are unconventional, for not holding much weight in society's rules and expectations, for being 'rebellious'. But rebellion doesn't just lie in actions. It is there in thoughts, belief systems, ideals. No matter what family ties we have or how close we might hold them, we are the ones who decide our beliefs, we are the ones who make our own decisions. Whether that means taking up the mantle of leadership or choosing a different path, we are the harbingers of change."

The words hung between them, weighed down with the solemn look Clary gave her. Then she quietly smiled.

"Good night. Sleep well."

She left, and Merida remained on the rug, apple in hand and new thoughts in her head.

To bring about change …

To hear someone say that to her felt like a sign. A sign that this couldn't continue. As Merida picked at the apple's skin, she realized that she didn't want things to stay like this. Not if there was something she could do to change it and make it into something better. She just had to figure out how.

Merida sniffed, rubbing at the tear trails on her dry, sticky face. In her lap, the soap duck gazed innocently up at her. She picked it up and pressed it to her cheek, breathing in the scent.

It'll be okay. One thing at a time.

Before dealing with the problem, she would write a letter home. Before writing the letter, she would eat.

Merida ate the apples. She spent the rest of the evening staring into the fire and letting her mind wander.

A few days later and there was still no solution in sight. The letter was sent, with the hope of a reply, but it did little to ease Merida's worries.

At least most of her work was caught up. Unlike for the higher years, the theory classes for the first years were much longer, with each one hour class having an additional half an hour tacked onto it. This was done so that the students could use those extra 30 minutes to do most of their homework, start on group assignments, clear up doubts with the professor, or, during exam season, the professor could quiz the students in-class about the study material.

Reluctantly, Merida admitted to herself that it was helpful, even if it meant that she'd have to stay sitting in a classroom that much longer. It left most of her evenings free. She used the time to wander through the corridors and think about her predicament.

There weren't many options she could see. The best she'd come up with so far was going right up to the girl and yelling it out. If she'd had a problem with someone then that's how she would've resolved it; just confront the problem directly, put her thoughts out in the open, and be done with it.

But something told her that such a thing wouldn't work for this girl. So far there hadn't been any pranks or direct attacks from her. Just her cozying up to everyone except Merida and sniggering at her when her back was turned. Direct confrontation didn't seem to be in her vocabulary. If she really didn't want to bother doing such a thing with Merida then there were any number of scenarios where she could easily slip away from it and come out better. At least half of them involved public ridicule.

Why did people have to be so frustrating? Why drag it out? Why couldn't people just say what they meant and get on with their lives?

Merida was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't see the approaching stairway. Not until her foot tripped over the bottom step and Merida suddenly went sprawling up the stairs.

"Ow! Ow ow ow!" She clutched her knee, glaring at the stairs. If the stone could talk, she bet it would've laughed at her. This school was out to get her, she just knew it.

"Oh, hullo. There you are."

Merida's head jolted up. At the top of the short flight of stairs there stood a girl. A girl who happened to be one of her roommates.

The girl tilted her head curiously. "… would you like some help?"

Merida stared at her. This was the first of her classmates to come to her willingly. This was also someone her bully had specifically attached herself to.

A part of Merida wanted to believe that this girl had come on the orders of her new 'friend' to do something hurtful. But the last time she'd made that mistake she'd scared away a stranger who'd done nothing to her. And if her bully had really wanted to pull something now, then surely she would've come herself to gloat about it and rub it in Merida's face.

In appearance, the differences between her tormentor and this girl were like day and night. Where the other was tall and gangly, this one was short and petite. Where one had limp, blonde hair, this girl had flowing black hair, the upper half pulled back from her face and the rest falling past her shoulders in multitudes of tiny, glossy ringlets. The hand that took hold of Merida's was dark as ebony, soft as velvet.

"I was looking for you. It was a bit difficult tracking you down, but I'm glad I could find you."

Merida not-so-subtly jerked back. From where she stood three steps above her, her roommate raised a single manicured eyebrow. Without waiting for Merida's input, she sat down on the step and arranged her skirts around her, finishing off by tucking her legs to the side just so. Her hands neatly folded together in her lap and her posture assumed the air of one in the presence of polite company.

Only one minute in and already showing more grace than Merida could remember displaying in her life. Her mother would've been thrilled.

"If you are wondering, I didn't come to find you because Jenny told me to. She doesn't know I'm here." She had an accent, though she hid it well. It was there in the vowels but Merida couldn't immediately place it.

Merida frowned. "… who is Jenny? And who are you?"

"Hm. Well now, this is … interesting." The girl made as if to fiddle with her hands and caught herself. She sighed. "I don't believe you mean, 'am I your classmate or have I not seen you before?', so I will not take it as such. To answer your first question. Jenny is the girl who has been spreading rumors about you. Her full name is Jenny Simple. My name is Rosalind Genevieve Beaulieu, and I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Merida DunBroch."

Oh … she knew that name. A memory from months ago resurfaced.

"Beaulieu. A powerful, magical family located primarily in France and going back centuries. A member of your family was once granted the protection of a powerful deity, and ever since the Beaulieu line has grown in strength. Currently, they deal heavily in the trade of high quality cloth and woven magical articles, as well as in seafaring and navigation." Merida cut off the automatic stream of information, blinking in surprise. "You're … practically royalty."

"I would say a reasonable estimate is more along the lines of a dukedom, but correct." She nodded in acknowledgement. "At the moment, my auntie is leading the family, but seeing as she has no children nor does she wish to have any in the future, I am the next in line to inherit. But we're not here to talk about me." She looked Merida dead in the eye. "What's going on right now – it needs to end."

She was talking about Jenny. Otherwise, why else would she have specifically told Merida that she'd sought her out without Jenny's knowledge?

But that raised questions that had Merida crossing her arms and glaring. "Why find me now? Why couldn't you have talked to me earlier?"

"Why couldn't you?" She shot back.

Truth be told, Merida didn't know what answer she'd wanted when she'd asked that. What she did know was that she did not have the mental energy for this.

Merida rounded on her, her words coming like hail. "Because I never wanted to be here! I wasn't planning to stay this long! I didn't want to go to an English school and be with – with everyone here! And then this Jenny character happened and before I could blink it's like everyone hated me and they're all chummy with her now. So when given something like that, how exactly do you expect me to know who to trust and who to not when you're the first person in our year I'm sitting down and having an actual conversation with? And yes, I know, okay? I know it's my fault. I know I did this to myself. I shouldn't have bunked the first week of classes and run away from everyone after that. I just- … I wasn't … I wasn't really thinking …"

Rosalind let Merida's words peter out. She waited long enough that Merida realized how loud her breathing had gotten on the otherwise empty stairway.

"No, you weren't thinking. It's about time you start."

"Well, if you're so smart then why don't you do it?" Merida snapped.

"First of all, we are not friends and I owe you nothing. Second of all, I'm already helping someone. Or, well," Rosalind paused, then frowned, "it's more that we're both looking out for each other. I'm talking about our roommate – the other one, not Jenny. But that's not my place to say, and if she wanted you to know then she'd tell you herself. Anyways. Even if I didn't have to worry about that, I still couldn't deal with Jenny for you. Tell me honestly, do you really think that would work? Do you really? If I actually stepped in and did that, do you think Jenny will ever take you seriously again?"

There was no hiding from Rosalind's hard look. Not only was this girl calm and poised, now she was being reasonable. It was everything Merida could do not to visibly sulk. "… No."

"Exactly. If you want Jenny to leave you alone, then you need to face her yourself."

"So – what? You want me to just go up to her and tell her to stop? I've already thought about it and I'm pretty sure it won't work. Wait-" Merida sat up. "You said you and our roommate are helping each other? Does that mean Jenny's bothering you, too? If that's true then couldn't you two just go up to Jenny and tell her to leave you both alone? Then we could kick her out of our dorm and she wouldn't bother any of us, right?"

Rosalind looked vaguely surprised, as if she hadn't expected Merida to catch all that.

She also looked like she was doing a mental eye roll, which, rude. Merida was sure she only half deserved that.

"See, that's the issue. The problem here is that she doesn't really care that it's you she's doing this to. You just happened to make yourself a convenient target for her. If one of us simply went up to her when she's on her own, then you know what she'd do? She'd walk away and find some other person to harass. She would not stop and the whole problem would just repeat itself."

"So we're just going to do nothing and let her continue to be the spawn of evil. Great plan." Unlike her, Merida did roll her eyes.

Rosalind waved away the eye roll like a stray puff of smoke. "She is not the spawn of evil, she's dumb and insecure. There's a difference." She shook her head. "What you need to know is that the one thing Jenny really cares about is her reputation. She wants people to pay attention to her, to care about her, to treat her like what she says and thinks is important. If you make your squabble with her a private issue, then no one else will be involved and Jenny can get away without losing any sleep."

"… so then …?"

Rosalind leaned forward and clapped her hands. "So then, what you need to do is make this a public issue. Make everyone involved. Make it as loud as you can and make sure everyone in our House is there to see it. Not only will you attack what really matters to her, you will also make sure that she has no way to escape from her actions or repeat the same thing again. Wait for your opportunity, then you strike."

Merida's mouth flopped open. Meanwhile, Rosalind crossed her arms, looking distinctly smug.

"… you planned all this out?" How? They were both eleven? When did she stop talking to an eleven year old and start hearing a military grade tactician?

Rosalind shrugged, easy as you please. "To be fair, it's not all that hard to do. When you learn diplomacy and tactics, you learn about people. You learn how to learn them, then how to apply what you learn to get the results you want. According to my tutors, such things are broadly classified under psychology and anthropology. It's very useful."

Merida's first thought was she'd fit right in at home, followed by don't ever get on her bad side. She filed them away for later and instead focused on doing the only sensible thing she could think of.

She inclined her head respectfully. "Thank you."

Rosalind smiled. "Pleasure to be of help. Remember what I said, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, she stood up. "It was nice meeting you. Good luck."

Don't screw this up, was something left unsaid.

It was a long while before Merida moved from the staircase.

Cast List:

Clary Daniels (Slytherin): my OC

Rosalind Bealueau (Slytherin): my OC

Jenny Simple (Slytherin): my OC

A/N:

I've had a whole big rant planned here for, oh, about a year I'd say, but that would take more braincells to construct than are currently available. Also, I want to at least try to masquerade as something resembling a professional in the notes of my first ever long fanfiction. If I want to go on a rant so badly it wouldn't be much trouble for me to hop on over to tumblr and unleash my thoughts into the blue void.

But bottom line - my personal thoughts aside, Slytherin House has so, so, so, so, so much potential that was never properly utilised and that saddens me beyond words. Fanfiction writers better than me have already said and shown as much, I'm just here riding on the coattails of that. Also, fantasy bigotry used as an entire focal point in stories written by those who never had to be born into it is boring and overrated and calling that the height of literature is straight up insulting to everyone else.

Watch me get my gremlin brown hands all over canon and restructure it from the ground up. Watch me create a fantasy boarding school story better than that and do it with more compassion, respect, and grace. Lovecraftian horror did not get to where it is today because people just let the bigot lie peacefully in his grave and I swear I'm going to be so disappointed if I see that I'm the only one doing this. I am fuelled by rage and spite and God Herself could tell me to stop and I absolutely would not.