I do not own Brave, HTTYD, Tangled, Frozen, or RotG.
Chapter 32
Directions
Merida was with the triplets, having hidden them away after breakfast and refusing to let them go to work in the pit. She wasn't one to lose sleep, but she had struggled over the last several days and was feeling more and more restless. She paced back and forth, watching them kick their heels out of her peripherals, asking periodically if they could go to work.
"Just—! Stop speakin' for a moment, could ye?" She hissed, "Do'nae move, do'nae breathe, do'nae even think for the next few minutes!"
"…I do'nae think that's possible, Meri," Hamish murmured.
"Mum's gonna come lookin' for us in a bit," Harris muttered, "We'll get in trouble if we do'nae show."
"Then get in trouble!" She repressed a snarl, "Ye boys were born in trouble and ye're worried now?!"
"Mum's different," Hubert crossed his arms and huffed. "I's…not the same."
"I…I know, boys, I do," she spun on her heel. "I know it and it's all my fault and I'm sorry. But I need ye to trust me, okay? Trust that all will be well and that I'm doin' all that I can."
"What are ye doin', then?" Hubert continued, leading them. He was angry with her, agitated and furious. "All ye do is sit in yer room or go and wash clothes! Ye can'nae even go into the forest and hunt us somethin' to eat—!"
"I'm tryin', laddies, I am," she knelt in front of them all, whispering. "I am. I just do'nae know what to do at this point. I'm tryin' to keep ye in here, away from all that mess. Ye…what's been…"
She rubbed her head. "We are born to privilege, as ye all know. And with it comes…specific obligations, aye?!" She looked at them, wide eyed and hopeful. "We are expected to give things up because we are not just of ourselves, but of our people."
"Tha's why ye were married," Harris offered, helpfully and she shook his knee.
"Aye! Aye, 'tis, exactly! It was hard for me, yes, but I did it for all of ye and mum and da and…everyone else in DunBroch."
"But it did'nae work," Hubert accused. "We're still at war!"
"I know, and that's not fair, is it?" She swallowed the hurt. "I did all that I could, but…"
"Mum did'nae want to let ye go," Hamish muttered. "She…I do'nae think we're doin' the right thing."
"No?" She sniffled and rubbed at her nose, furious at her weakness. She used to be so strong, so solid, she never cried. Now she felt like it's all she could manage to do these days, more and more tears. "There are times when…when our feelings, they get in the way of what we should do, what we ought to do. Mum and da wanted to do right and they did and that's why I left, aye? But then…they did wrong," she made eye contact with each of them. "And that's okay, most times. To make mistakes, to fail and falter. But if ye have a deal…ye keep it, aye?"
There was some hesitant nodding.
"The deal was bad, though!" Hubert hissed, looking to his brothers, "Right?!"
"It was, it was bad. The Vikings took too much, but they and I knew that, given the time, and the solidification of the bond we struck with…a wee cousin or two for ye to play with," she tried to smile but it was weak, "We could come to a new agreement that would be better."
"But mum and da…they broke the bond?" Hamish offered a hand and she took it.
"Aye, they did," she shook her head. "And it was 'cause of me, that's true. I was spiteful an' angry an' I snubbed 'em both. And…boys…lads…"
She swallowed and sighed, closing her eyes.
"I can try now to do right by ye, but it would be too little, too late. All that ye've done, suffered, in preparation for a war that we will'nae win and I—!"
"Ye do'nae know that!" Hubert hit at her arm with his and she let him slap at her, fight her, try to push her away. "Ye do'nae know anything!"
"Shh, shh," she got hold of one swinging fist and wrapped him into her grip, rocking him. "Shh, shh, oh, my poor wee brothers…"
"Ye think ye can-ye can-ye can come in here—!"
"Shh," she bent and lifted him, hand on the back of his head, "Shh, I know. I ken it, I do."
Once one went, the others followed. They were too big to lift more than one at a time, so she had to just let them clamber around her and hold onto her skirts and sob openly.
"Shh," she pressed her cheek against theirs, "Shh, shh. To ask ye to go into the ribcage of a gutted creature, to torment things, to learn to hurt them for this cause. Ye had no part in this, ye really did'nae, and we did all this…ye did all this for me and I know that, I do."
"We did'nae want ye to go!"
"It was'nae fair!"
"Please, Meri—!"
"Shh." Children, all of them. Just children, babies. Too much asked from far too small of beings. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, it was awful to see and she could barely even begin to fathom the experience.
"Boys," she put Hubert down, pulling them close. "Boys, ye need to listen to me. Now!" She shook one under each hand.
"My dear ones, life is cruel and hard and awful. I'm sorry I left ye to this, but I need ye to be strong for me. And I need ye to hear me and know this—I am goin' to put this to rights!"
"How?!" Hamish crowed, red and splotchy and miserable.
She had to decide what to do, what was the best idea. If they were to know about the dragons coming and told her parents, it could ruin everything. Hel, if her mother was any looser, she might kill her in a rampage.
"I'm goin' to fix it," she swore, "I am—!"
A scratching noise had all of them turning, looking at her window as it was filled with wings and claws and scales.
"Aiden…" She whispered, "Hiccup…"
"Mum—!" Hubert gasped and Merida clamped her fingers around his mouth.
"Hush!" She grabbed him a little tighter, "Ye keep yer gob shut. Harris, let him in."
He hesitated and she snapped, "Go! Now!"
Going, he opened the window and the Titan Wing Terrible Terror fluttered in an spiral of wings and gangly limbs.
"I'm goin'ta let ye loose now," she told Hubert, "And ye are goin' to be as quiet as a lamb about all of this. D'ye ken me?"
"What's in it for us?" He wiped his mouth, having furiously licked the inside of her palm to no avail of being let go.
"…How about dragons of yer very own?" She whispered. "To feed, to fly, to take care of—what d'ye say?"
"…Ye already promised us that," he spat.
"How about…" she swallowed and bundled them all closer. "…How would ye like to come with me, then?"
They shared confused glances then looked back at her.
"…Ye could all come with me to Berk. To stay and live with me, have yer dragons and never have to do anything like this again."
"Leave…DunBroch?"
"Go to Berk?"
"What about mum and dad?"
"Shh, shh, just…" she pulled them closer. "Just think about it, okay? If ye'd like…"
"But why would we go to Berk? Why would ye go to Berk?"
"Because Hiccup is there and my dragon, Solasta," she nodded to the already napping dragon on the ground. "And wee Aiden there, too."
"But we're here." Hamish accused her with his wide blue eyes.
"And…and it has'nae been good, has it?" She stroked his cheek. "Not all of it, o' course, but…d'ye think mum and da are…equipped to take care of ye? As they should?"
"And ye are? With yer demon husband?"
"Do'nae say that about him," she snapped her fingers at Hubert. "Ye do'nae ken anythin' about the poor man. But know that I asked him if he'd take ye—and he agreed, said he'd gladly do that for me. Because he loves me and that is even after he found out about what happened to the Viking encampment."
They bowed their heads and shuffled their feet.
"Was that right?" She pressed, "Was it? To go in the middle of the night and slaughter women, children, dragons? Yes, they have done horrid things, but what can ye say about what we've done?"
She had to be calm and quick and smart about this. The boys were loyal to her parents, to DunBroch, to the world they know. If she started shouting and throwing them around, spitting in their faces and yelling, they'd close ranks and go telling Elinor in a heartbeat.
They frowned at each other and her.
"Hiccup will not leave this unfinished, boys. He's goin' to come back to DunBroch with more Vikings and more dragons and none of them will care about ye unless ye're under me. I can'nae save mum and da," she whimpered at the end, the heartbreak evident in her face. "But I can save ye three."
"Ye can…stop this?" Harris was always the weakest, always so small.
"Not alone," she swore. "I need ye to help me. Destroy weapons, free the dragons. Help me save everyone that we can, help me save DunBroch from more ruin and chaos. If ye listen to me, do as I say when the time comes…I can."
"…Dragons are evil," Hubert tried, but she shushed him.
"Are they? Or are they hurtin' and scared? What does a horse do when cornered?"
He hiccuped and she cooed.
"The Vikings—?"
"Did terrible things, we can'nae let them be blameless. They came into our land and took it and brought us into war. And we fought and did horrible things in return. At the end of the day, no one is guiltless in this. But it was over, it ended, and I…I sacrificed myself for it. And to turn our backs on a deal, to break a bond sealed in blood and marriage, is unacceptable."
They sat on her floor, speaking in the way that the dragons spoke, the way only they knew how, in half muttered syllables and locked gazes. She picked up Aiden, who squeaked and yawned in her grip, offering his leg for her to take the message. She did so and wrapped him around her shoulders like a shawl, his tail coming to rest around her throat.
Merida unfurled it like a holy man might open a sacred illuminated text, holding her breath and expecting some great words of wisdom, of comfort, of sorrow.
It was better than she expected and she couldn't help but laugh a little at him and his brilliant mind.
"Is it from yer man, Meri?"
"Aye," she hummed, "Aye, 'tis."
"What does it say, then?"
"He says…he's here with me," she supplied, "And that he's comin'."
Hamish peered over her hands. "It's just a doodle! It does'nae say anythin' at all!"
"Maybe to ye," she teased, "But it means everythin' to me."
It was his mark, his symbol as leader. The eye stared right through her, the pointed horns of the helmet tipped up proudly.
"Heart of a chief, soul a dragon…" She muttered, staring at it like it just might start speaking. She pressed it to her chest like a girl might've and sighed.
One of the boys gagged behind her.
Putting down the paper on the opposite side, she sketched her own mark right against the back of his. When held up to the light, you could see them both combined together, mirror images, conjoined and similar and dissimilar all the same. A part of her sang with the sight, happy beyond words that he had contacted her at last. She never doubted him, not even for a moment, she knew he would come and send word, but to see it made it real.
And, by the gods, she missed him. It was easier to ignore when she was so determined to find him, to have him back, to drive the two of them together again. She spent the day and nights scheming to get everything back together again and she was so focused on him that his presence wasn't missed—he was just there, in the back of her mind, always. But now she felt all the pinpricks of his absence at once.
She missed the small, whistling snore that he huffed in her ear when she wrapped around him in search of warmth. She missed his conversations and laughter with Toothless and the babies, speaking as if to a dearest friend. She missed him in their kitchen, swinging himself around on his peg-leg and making a fool out himself to get her to laugh. She missed the way he would sweep in after working with his father or Gobber, smelling of parchment and metal and lightning and kissing her on the mouth in greeting before rattling on about what he'd managed to accomplish. She missed sitting and playing boardgames with him, his focused expression as he examined her moves in preparation. She missed the way he could saddle up to her and change the whole mood of the room with a peck on her temple. She missed his eyes and his hair and that little scar on his chin. She missed the way his body would slot perfectly against hers, made for him, fated and waiting for him so far away.
It was a surreal and terrifying experience, coming home to realize the great and terrible changes in herself, her people, and the world she once knew. The horror at the mistreatment of the dragons, the disgust in her mother's cruelty and father's apathy, the entire debacle she was in. She felt so much guilt in the beginning, agonizing over her family and their loss of her, but she was all but shoved in her room like a gemstone in a lockbox. She had tried to entreat her mother to embroider together like they used to, speak together like they did, even just sit and have dinner without that weasel Murtagh. Still, she was all but ignored and she wondered if this really was all for her sake or if there was more of a motive. Merida honestly believed she could forgive her mother easier if there was at least some focus diverted to her people, to bettering the lives of those in DunBroch, but Maisie had assured her that everyone was being slowly devoured by a beast much greater than a dragon.
Still, so much stayed the same and the familiarity haunted her. Her old things remained, even if her wardrobe hung empty of all but a few too small dresses from her youth. Her things were mostly replaced of lower quality. Her jewels were all gone, having been destroyed on Berk. She had no diadem to represent her place among her people and those that did see her did not bow as they used to or even mutter simple greetings, but rushed away like she might have some disease. Gods only knew where Maudie had run off to, so weak of disposition and easily frightened. The castle looked the same, the pathways still as they always were, but things had been moved or ransacked or sold, she didn't know which. Her family was the same, but there was still so much mistrust and anger and strangeness between them all that she felt like an outsider all over again.
"Boys," she went to demand their silence, but then paused. "Would ye like to meet my wee Terror?"
They paused in their shuffling, their silent conversation, looking at her and the beast at her neck.
"Aiden, my dear," she pulled her hair out of the way of his claws, "Come here, sweet thing."
She pried him gently from her shoulders, pulling his claws from her dress. He had obviously not enjoyed the first trip here, as he was nervous and skittish around the boys and kept making goggle-eyes at him.
"Don' ye think him fine?" She stroked his scaled back, putting him at ease. "See how big he is? He's bigger than most Terrors."
"Is that what he's called? A Terror?" Hamish asked, more curious than frightened. Hubert looked suspicions and angry, while Harris just looked worried.
"A Terrible Terror," she laughed, "And he's so big because he's reached a level of maturity, makin' him what Hiccup calls a Titan Wing." She translated roughly. "That means he's lived over a hundred years! Can ye believe such a thing?!"
Hamish reached out a hand and Hubert slapped at him. "Do'nae touch it!"
"Why not?" He countered, "Meri is touchin' it!"
"She…well, she said he belongs to her!"
"Nay, he belongs to himself and the wind. Aiden just likes me enough to let me name him, is all," she put him in her lap. "He was a wedding gift. Come, touch him, it's all right!"
They didn't move and she sighed. "Hands out. In front of ye! Yes, good, lock yer elbows and…turn yer head. Like so," she demonstrated, eyes closed.
"It'll take my finger!"
"Nay, Hubert, ye babby!" She teased. "'Fraid to muss yer hair?"
He pouted, but did as she told, face scrunched in fear and no doubt looking much the same as she did when she and Hiccup spent their first night together. Emboldened by their leader, Hamish and Harris followed suit.
The Terror sniffled and then nudged Harris, who whimpered and twitched but didn't pull away. Aiden did it to the others, Hubert and Hamish turning to stare at the little creature as he sat back and returned to her lap.
"Isn't he lovely? He's much smaller than my dragon."
"…What's yer dragon like?"
She was filled with more wistfulness, worried about her loving Lightfury and hoping that the hatchlings were keeping her busy and not too upset about her missing from her life.
"Mm, well!" She leaned back, watching as they saddled up, "That's quite the story!"
There was nothing better in their minds, a story told by Merida was one to relish.
"Come! Get close!" She beckoned them, "Come, come! I'll tell ye."
They leaned into her arms, around the dragon in her lap. After they were settled, Aiden crawled into Harris' lap, who squeaked and cooed over him as he curled up to let his gold and red scales glimmer in the sunshine.
"Well, I was just off with Hiccup, sailin' over the seas on the back of his Nightfury when we went to meet his mother, though I did'nae know it at the time. Could ye imagine the insult? Good thing 'twas I and I never once gave a single care about how my hair looked to visitors—!"
They held their breath as she told them the tale and, for once, she felt like things might be well between all of them.
"So, I am…going to fly my dragon! To the sacred temple where we're told not to bring dragons! And consult with the gods, who I just might piss off," Hiccup sighed, holding his helmet. "Do I have to?"
"Yes," Astrid and his mother snapped in sync, then locked eyes.
"But—!"
"Son, if Stoick thinks that the gods are lookin' to speak to ye, ye must go. It's important and they may show us some message before we leave for DunBroch."
"The gods have turned their eyes to you for sometime now, Hic, they have something to say and need you to listen." Astrid crossed her arms.
"Yeah, and I can't do that here?" He gestured, "In Berk? Y'know, where all my plans are?"
"No wonder Merida always wanted to ring your neck," Astrid rolled her eyes. "We've got it, Hic, it really couldn't be more clear!"
"She didn't…always," he tried, "Right?"
"Son," Valka soothed, "If the gods can tell ye somethin' about Merida, or her people, ye need to go. So take the dragon and go!"
Reminded of their time together in her cove a few months earlier, Hiccup sighed and agreed as he settled his helmet across his face and brow. "Let's hope it's not bad news."
"Just go!" Astrid cried and Toothless whipped up into the air with a few bursts of his powerful wings.
Hiccup saluted his mother and best friend before he began headed north towards the sacred temple. His mind was a whirlwind, all he could think of was the dream he continuously had revolving the eagle as it flew and the all seeing eye that peered down below him. It had haunted him, nearly every single time he got more than an hour or so of rest and it tormented his every waking moment. He shivered, despite the warmth of the summer months that came, and tried to focus on just what explanation he might lay at the feet of the priests that would surely find his presence (but more so his dragon's). The bag across his shoulder would help whatever issue they might have, filled with a bit of gold and goods of salt, wine, and oil to soothe the way.
Steering Toothless toward the valley between the mountains, Hiccup took a moment to sit back and enjoy the sunlight through the clouds and spread his arms as if he himself had wings. Everything beneath him was turning that cool green of summertime, the heat of the light above actually starting to cut into his armor and the cold wind so high up. It was so hard to focus down below where he was needed at every turn, every command must be his, all the expectations heaped upon his heartbreak and sorrow and rage. In the sky, everything could fall away but the ever present hurt and the comforting presence of his beloved best friend.
Toothless was more than a blessing, he was a brother and Hiccup could not have survived this time without him and the hatchlings. The dragons were all suffering without Merida, but like Hiccup, Toothless refused to sit and mourn with the Lightfury but was as determined as he was to really get up and finish what had started underneath them. He flew with his mate and children in the mornings and evenings to eat, but stuck close to Hiccup during the days, his tail around his chair, curled near him, watching the doors and keeping track of everything that happened. There was no need for words between them, although all of Hiccup's breakdowns were in the presence of Toothless and the dragon never treated him differently for it.
Hiccup knew that the only person who really understood was Toothless, who was so connected to all of them. He knew Hiccup's heart and the Lightfury's soul, what it meant to have such a deep love for another creature of a different species. Toothless knew of the love between them all and felt, as the Alpha, like Hiccup, it was their job to move forward and keep themselves together to bring Merida back. He was reminded of their time together in the house where they let everything fall apart around them, so focused they were on each other and exploring the newfound facet of their relationship.
They had flocked to them, invited them in to their pack, intimate and familial in the bonding.
Should Merida die, the Lightfury and Hiccup had silently agreed they would continue on for Toothless alone. Hiccup would take the dragons, all of them, and whoever wanted to go and would find a place where he could put a hut on top of a hill and learn to live without half his soul. Each year he'd dedicate himself to the next batch of hatchlings, raise them alongside their dragon parents, set them free and wait for the end to come. It was all he could imagine himself accomplishing, should Merida be dead or die from this. If they were to be condemned, if she was no longer welcome on Berk, they would leave together with the dragons. He had prepared, like Astrid had suggested.
Underneath him, Toothless surged forward on powerful wings that were, to his knowing eyes, much larger than when they first met. The dragon had grown after his first batch of hatchlings, which he found interesting but strange. The hatchlings were nearly half grown, to his eyes, and another six months would probably see them reach adulthood and free them to the world and effectively fill the sky with new Furies. He loved them as dearly as his own children and Hiccup looked forward to seeing more and more each year.
'And Merida gets to name two this next time,' he swore, 'I haven't forgotten…'
Toothless soared forward and Hiccup tipped his head back and let himself hover between the land of humans and the land of the gods. Behind his eyelids, the world burned red and black, like his dragon, like his tail, like him.
They settled some place away from the outer edges of the boundary, Hiccup having to go the final steps into the temple alone. He held his arm out after he dismounted, the two of them speaking without even a word.
The green of Toothless' eyes were so many shades, names upon names of green that Hiccup wished he knew to give titles to.
I'll be back.
I will wait.
Hiccup turned his back and knew he wasn't alone even as he began to cross through the crowded trees, the feathers and beads twinkling in the branches as he passed. The air became more and more damp into the valley, full of the compost smell of mushrooms and rot and blood.
Hiccup was not fond of this place, but even he could feel the change in the air as he went further and further. It was like the shift in the skies before the lightning strikes, before Toothless shot plasma, before a Goregutter landed, when a Nadder shuddered before it fired. The land of the gods was old and ancient and it moved through him, around him, making him sigh as he paced forward resolutely to the dark temple in the center.
He saw no priests, but he didn't expect to. He stepped into the wooden structure, calling out for someone that might meet him. There was no response and he turned, coming nose to nose with the priestess and her moon white eyes.
Hissing a curse, he turned away and rubbed the back of his neck and apologized lowly.
"Greetings, young one," she grinned with a strangely dark mouth, like she'd been drinking dragon's blood. "How may I assist you?"
"I have come, uh…with a vision," he cleared his throat. "And goods for both you and-and the gods."
"Hmm," she gestured under a gauzy dress that seemed far too light even in this weather, "Come. We shall see what we shall see."
She moved past the markers of the gods and he nodded, as if compelled, to offer them respect. Into a small room, completely dark, perfumed with smoke and herbs. She sat on the ground covered with furs and began piling things together, adding them to a pot to pound with one hand while the other tossed more onto a burning charcoal block to add even more scents into the air. She rubbed whatever goo between her fingers, examining them with her milky white eyes before she went back to grinding seeking with her blind gaze.
She held out the bowl, which immediately burned his nose, "Spit."
He did.
She looked at it with a hum before she began to stir again while her free hand searched behind her to grab something else.
The priestess poured a long draught of something into her potion before she took a swig from the same bottle and shivered, shaking her wild head of blond hair in every directions with a great huff.
She gestured with the bowl. "Drink."
"I, uh—!" He so did not want to do that.
"Drink it!" She snarled and he sputtered before trying to take the bowl and she jerked so he moved forward to wrap his lips around the edge and sip the incredibly bitter, sour, gamey, tart, and acidic all at once and he shook in revulsion.
'Still better than Astrid's yak-nog,' he gagged.
She nodded, pleased, then stared at him with her eyes, like Heimdall's, eternal and blind and all-seeing at the same time. He shook again as his stomach rolled and felt the effects of whatever was in her potion sweep through him in ever growing waves.
"What…" The walls seemed to crawl, "What is this…?"
"Tell me your vision."
"I uh…" He could barely speak, "I…"
"Look at me," she commanded and his head lolled, then focused.
"Show me."
He felt like screaming but he couldn't breathe.
The silence was deafening as each King took their rightful place across from each other. Neither bowed to the other, there was no respect here, no power or prestige, merely two men that had stood as leaders and lost as men do. They stared each other down, from their gray hairs, their lines and wrinkles,
The translator fretted behind them, every movement jerky as he waited for someone to speak.
"This war must end."
"Agreed."
"We are willing to offer peace," Fergus passed some written documents forward. "And all that must go with it."
Stoick flickered his attention downward, but did not move to glance further. He shrugged his shoulders. "There is little here you can offer us that we cannot get elsewhere."
"We have goods—!"
"We do not need goods."
"Then what is it that drove ye to my fuckin' lands?!"
"Just as ye said. Land. We need more Vikings in more places."
"Unacceptable!"
"Then we continue until ye break."
Fergus surged to his feet, "I will not allow Vikings on my land now, or ever."
Stoick shrugged, "That's fine. Ye will either give it or have it taken from ye."
Snarling, the other man wished for his sword. All weapons were removed from their persons during this time of seclusion.
"We have more dragons. We have more resources. We have more time, King of DunBroch. Ye must decide on how ye want this to go—quick or slow."
"Aye," he hissed. "Aye…"
There was more silence.
"Ugly business, war. Cruel. Bloody. No joy in it, even now." Stoick murmured and the translator struggled to keep up with his low tones.
"No?" Fergus laughed and it sounded like the baying of hounds, like crows on the battlefield, something poetic and terrible and dangerous. "Not even now, when ye have me by the balls?"
"I take no joy in death," Stoick stood, slowly. "I have known a great deal of it, brought by my hand, yes, but some brought by others and the gods."
"Blasted heathens," Fergus cursed and the man between them chose not to define his outburst.
"There is too much loss on both sides and too much mistrust," Stoick sighed. "This is the deal I demand and I will have, one way or the other."
"Ye'd ruin my people, my life, my home?" Fergus murmured, "And ye dare say ye take no joy…?"
"It is the only way to ensure that ye are and remain compliant," Stoick shrugged, "I will not drain ye, ye will have plenty for yer people and yer livestock and yer imports shall only be delayed a bit. We'll send bone and hide, as we do to all our provinces, but no iron, as I'm sure ye understand. And we'd take a spot a bit from ye all and set up a settlement with our dragons and our people to remain in peace and farm and live."
"And this is the only deal ye'll take?" He saw the numbers, a scrawl, shaking his head. "We'd starve like this."
"This is more than most Viking's get—!"
"We are not Vikings!"
They seethed into the tense space between them.
"What of…" Fergus shook in misery and horror at what he might have to do, to sacrifice, again. "What if there was another way to assure fealty?"
Stoick tipped a gray studded brows. "What do ye propose?"
"I have…" Fergus saw the man sag, as if he might fall, and nearly went to aid him but would not disrespect the other man. "I have a daughter."
Stoick said nothing.
"A fine and lively daughter, she's…" the translator stuttered a bit, trying to look anywhere but the twisted anguish on his monarch's face. "She's the brightest thing in all the world."
"All well and good, but—?"
"And ye have men here," he gestured. "Young, I'm sure, some of them. Of high ranking. Some-someone…someone worthy."
"A bond made in matrimony?" Stoick had also considered this deal, but he did not want to give that away.
"Aye. My Merida is," his throat double clenched and he struggled to resist the urge to pound his fist on the table and knock everything to the ground, peace be damned. "My daughter is fire personified. She never got along with the people here, her kin, her brethren. She's made for…she's made of tougher stock, solid iron, terrible and dauntless and…"
They locked eyes, two fathers and leaders and knowing what must be done, the outcome of it all and the heartache it would bring.
They didn't need words to know they agreed.
"My son is to be of twenty and two winters this year."
"My Merida is but twenty autumns."
Much greater gaps were ignored for matrimony.
"Is he…" Fergus looked anywhere but the man ahead of him. "Like ye?"
"My son?" He couldn't help but chuckle, "Not in the least. He takes after his mother."
"My Merida is all me," he shrugged a bit, "Well, prettier, though, ye know…"
Stoick scoffed, "Good to know."
"She is…She's…" he cleared his throat, "She is recently widowed. I hope that will not be a problem."
"…I don't think my son will be too concerned, no."
"And she's…she's strong, my girl. She fought, on our side. She killed. Do'nae take her lightly because—!"
"All women are respected and revered as soldiers and maidens both on Berk. If ye fear my son to attempt to stop this, it will not happen. Ye have my word on that."
"Good, good…" He sagged again, eyes full of tears that he would not let show in front of his enemy. Still, he slumped into the seat in front of him, while Stoick still stood. "She's my firstborn. So I would only let her part if she would have the same respect she'd garner from my…my throne."
"She will be Queen of the Viking Confederacy and all Norway," Stoick assured, showing his hand at the pleasure in his voice, "She will have the world at her feet."
He closed his eyes, "Yes."
Stoick sighed, "And she will be protected, of course. No harm shall come to her, myself and my son will assure it."
"I expect no less…but my terms must be agreed to," Fergus spat. "For insurance that my daughter be kept alive and well."
Stoick stared down before he nodded and offered his arm to shake.
"Deal, Majesty."
Merida faced down her mother with a blank expression.
"We need'a eat."
"I'll have someone—!"
"I know those woods better than anyone and I set those traps months ago. I can reset them, give me a day."
"I…I can'nae let ye go!" She fluttered, nervous. "What if someone tries to take ye away again?!"
"Who?" She countered, summoning her wily husband and and clenching her fingers together to avoid gesturing wildly. "Who would do such a thing, now that the Vikings are gone?"
"What if there are some and we do'nae know?"
"Am I so weak, mother?" She gestured to the bow on her shoulder, "I, who helped ye slay Mor'Du and more besides?"
"Of…of course not, my dear, but I…" She clenched her maddened eyes shut.
"Mum," Merida approached, cautiously. Her anger burned a little at the loss of her wedding band and all the horrors she had brought, but she smothered it. This was the woman that bore her and loved her enough to risk everything for her. "I cannot be kept here, locked away. I need my freedom."
"But are you willing to pay the price yer freedom might cost?" She hissed, leaning over a table, piles of papers underneath her.
"I will'nae be captured, I doubt I will even be bothered in the woods. We need food, mum, ye know this as well as I. There are at least twenty traps in the forest that I placed and I can fix and get—?"
"Fine! Blasted child," she smiled, "Fire and brimstone are what make up yer blood and bones. Go, be safe. Return with somethin' to fill all our bellies."
"I will," she turned and began to race away.
"I will send Murtagh with ye," she called, "So ye can get through the gates."
"What?" Merida whipped around, "Mother, nay—!"
"Ye must have protection!"
"And what d'ye call these?" She gestured to the bow and sword at her hips.
"I will'nae let ye go alone, ye're out of yer damn mind if ye think—!"
"I think I'm capable of handlin' myself, thank ye very much—!"
"Ye need an escort—!"
"I do'nae need a babysitter—!"
"Ladies, ladies!" A voice called from the hallway, revealing the slimy snake of the MacKenzie Clan. Merida repressed a snarl. "Please, do'nae fight over me!"
Elinor tittered and Merida whipped her head so hard she heard a bone pop.
Really? She struggled to school her face to impassivity.
"Come, come," he sauntered over in his dark green and black kilt. "I can'nae let ye go alone, Princess. Ye are just returned and at much cost to all of us. What would happen if ye were to be taken again?"
"Sir, although I certainly…appreciate," she struggled not to choke, "Yer kindness, but know that I am perfectly capable—!"
"Nay, kindness is not why I do this. It's duty, honor, justice," he canted his hips and took hold of his sword belt. "That is why I serve ye, my Queen," he bowed to the dark haired woman and she swore her mother swooned.
'What in the Nine Realms is happenin' here?' She bit her cheek hard enough to taste blood. Certainly her mother didn't have some kind of infatuation with this man.
"There! See?" Elinor spun to take Merida's shoulders, "It's all settled!"
"Nay, mother, I do'nae—!"
"Just give him a chance," she coerced in her ear and Merida felt something heavy and acidic settle in her belly. "He's from a good Clan here, as good as the MacGuffins and MacIntosh, no doubt! And he's very handsome, is he not?"
"Mother?"
"Just—think about it. It's up to ye, of course." She winked and straightened a curl with her fingers, "I can'nae imagine what ye went through, so far away. But—having a partner reign at yer side, as an equal, a friend, it's…well, perfection."
"Do'nae even think about it," Merida hissed and her mother wilted.
"I ken it was hard, to be with such a beast, but…well, we can speak of it later, as women do."
Merida tore away from her grip and shook her head in disgust before she turned and pounded away through the doors and towards the stables. Angus didn't buck or cry out in fright at the sight of her, but he did huff and snort at the sight of the wayward MacKenzie.
"There are some much better mounts near my people—?"
"There is no finer horse in all of DunBroch than my Angus," Merida said in a clipped tone as she saddled him. "Hurry up or I will leave ye in the dirt."
'I will anyway,' she flicked her hair over her shoulder and immediately began to head towards the gates, or whatever shambles they were nowadays.
They would not open at her command, giving her scoffs over their shoulders and barely ignoring her as she she sputtered like a teakettle at the insult.
The MacKenzie saddled up, content as could be, grinning at her as he waved and the men all moved at his silent demand. They huddled to the wooden spiked door and lifted, panting and huffing as they shifted it to the side and she sat tall and proud.
"Hyah!" She kicked her heeled boots into the sides of her mount and went rushing forward and—
Oh.
It was as it always was, seamless and limitless and so very powerful. It was not the carefree flight of her dragon, that was so incredibly breathtaking as it tore from the ground and glided through air. This, though, was pure power and fury that went pounding across the ground like he just might tear the trees from their roots. He busted through the pathways she had carved in her youth and she barely repressed a holler of excitement just feeling the joy he seemed to emit from his pace. If Murtagh kept up, she had no idea nor care, she headed towards the woods and swore in every hoofbeat she'd never forget this feeling again. She hoped that Solasta would forgive her, when the time came that she returned, that she rode on another's back.
If in the sky she was the Queen of the Clouds, she was the Queen of the Forest on the back of Angus.
She knew these paths like the back of her hand, like she knew herself, like she knew the pattern of her family's tartan, the curl of her hair. She was up and off, into the woods on foot while she went about fixing the traps she had set months and months back. A handful of bones scattered around proved they had managed to catch a last round of prey before something else came and devoured what she had left.
When she returned to her horse, Murtagh was there and sitting on his mount, picking at his nails with the point of a dirk.
"Ah, there she is!" He crooned, "Our Princess of the Great Wild."
She paid him no mind and leapt back up into her saddle.
"I have to ask ye," he followed her at even her breakneck pace, "Where did a wee thing like ye learn all this?"
"I am the Princess," she said with no lack of authority, "I do'nae ask, but demand. It is simple as that."
"So no one ever dared say nay to little Merida?"
"It is Yer Highness to ye, or ye may address me by my title."
"I call yer mother—!"
"I do'nae give a damn," she snarled, yanking on the reigns to stop her mount. "Ye mean nothin' to me and do'nae deserve to utter my name!"
He tipped a brow but followed dutifully as she raced forward again before dismounting and began to tromp off the trail to fix her next set of traps.
"I just think I'm owed a little bit of respect," he tried again, "I was paramount in returning ye home again."
She bit her cheek so hard she tasted blood, stopping herself from snarling and asking just what he's getting out of the deal. Was he also paramount in twisting her mother into the shadow that she was now? What was his position in the torment and torture of the dragons in the back of the castle, the fear of her people, the destruction of her home?
"And?" She finally decided, sneering down on him. "I am to be yer monarch. Ye pay in service."
"Ah, well," he laughed at her, her pride. "I suppose I expected more from ye."
"Like?"
"Gratitude could be a start."
"Fine," she flicked her hair over her shoulder but said no more.
She heard him scoff behind her.
"I never expected ye to be like this."
"I never meet expectations."
"Aye," he drove ahead of her and stopped her, making Angus buck and she hissed a curse. "But I thought after some time with the Vikings ye'd be less of a brat."
"And that is the way ye address the crown princess?" She panted, calming her steed.
"What shall ye do about it?" He leaned over his saddle. "Go and tell mummy?"
Merida rolled her bight eyes skyward and begged for patience. "What do ye want? Really?"
"Why, I thought it would be obvious at this point."
"I'm afraid ye've lost me."
"Hm," his horse circled hers. "Who d'ye think will take ye, now that ye've been defiled?"
"Defiled?" She scoffed, "What am I? Soiled linens?"
"Ye might as well be," he ventured and she smothered a gasp with a snarl. "C'mon, Princess. Be honest with yerself for a moment. Who could really want ye now, knowin' just what ye endured at the hands of the Viking hoard?"
"And," she growled out, "Just what did I endure, sir?"
"Well, far be it from me to assume," he held his chest as if hurt, "But I'm sure it was terrible."
She bit the ragged inside of her cheek, her brow aching with how hard she glared.
"I mean no offense, Princess."
"It is yer manner that offends, sir!" She snapped, snarling. "Ye may be a Laird of a powerful Clan, ye may be at my mother's right hand, ye may have been instrumental in my recovery back to DunBroch, but ye are not my equal nor will ye ever be!"
"I could be!" He called, "Quite easily, really."
The leather creaked in her grip. "Speak plainly."
He simpered, "A proposal for you, my Princess—a proposal."
Resisting the urge to gag, her disgust made Angus back up out of instinct. "Of—marriage?!"
"Ye can'nae say ye have'nae considered it," he shrugged, moving the wolf pelt across his shoulders. "It makes perfect sense, now that ye are divorced. Ye are brash and bold, but ye are not stupid, Princess. Ye know that to rule with any authority now, ye must have a husband of the Alban Clans. Ye know that none will really have ye, not really, because ye have been ruined at the hands of the Vikings and no man wants spoiled meat. And I can lead easily—!"
"Cease speaking." She bit so hard she feared she might snap her tongue in two. "Should ye even think of such madness again, I will show ye how I garnered the name Valkyrie among the Vikings."
He clucked his tongue and shook his ruddy head, "Ye are makin' a mistake. No one will accept ye on the throne, Merida, no matter yer strength."
"Ye may not even win. We did'nae manage such before—why is it different now? Because ye have some dragon weapons?" She scoffed, "Who d'ye think supplies the rest of the Viking Confederacy of such weapons? And armor? We are underprepared in every single aspect and we are assured defeat now as we were then."
"Ye underestimate me."
"I think ye overestimate yerself while underestimating my husband."
He sighed through his nose and eyed her with his sharp, snake gaze that made her feel cold slither down her spine.
"…Ye call him yer husband, even now?"
"I…" She sighed and resisted the urge to shake. "Our agreement was dissolved. I am divorced from him, we are free from each other. But that does not mean he is not vengeful or vindictive," her mouth tasted like ash, lies in her throat like fire in the wind, "He is a terrible man and he will come and reclaim the city and slaughter us all for his enjoyment."
"Truly?" He hummed. "I had not heard as much of Hiccup Haddock III."
"Well," she cleared her throat, tipping her chin, "Ye did not live or lie with him, so I care little for yer rumors."
He had the ability to wince, looking off into the woods. "I suppose there is that."
Turning to face him, she fixed him with her fiercest glower. The one that she gave Ruffnut when they met at the well in the center of Berk, the one that spoke of such superiority and condescension, of lineage and heritage and powerful bloodlines.
"Return to the castle," she took hold of the reins and moved around to the pathway, "I ken these woods better than any soul, my mother will understand. I wish to be alone."
He looked as if he might disagree, but then nodded his head. "As the Princess wishes."
Murtagh MacKenzie turned on his Clydesdale of a honey-wheat color and galloped easily and relaxed pace away from her. Once she was sure he was gone, she fell across the neck of her horse and breathed deeply, trying to still her racing heart that pounded like a war drum against her ribcage. Her hands were slick and her neck burned with heat, the world twisting as everything seemed to tilt.
'Steady, lass!' She demanded herself, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to get ahold of herself.
When she regained her senses, she dismounted from Angus and began walk casually towards her next set of traps with her reins in hand.
Come! Here!
She spun so hard she nearly slipped to her knees. Angus neighed and bucked again, making her hiss and demand he calm, settle, relax. He remembers from so long and backed away, but discontinued his tugging and let her lead him quickly but steadily along the bright trail of Will-o-Wisps that commanded she come.
She could cry, she could scream, she could jump and shout with joy.
Come! Here!
She felt the pull in her very soul, the threads of fate yanked and pulled and she was their puppet. Her heart thundered in her chest and she panted as she chased, getting faster and faster, yanking her horse behind her as he fought her advance.
'To my fate or to my death,' she swore, 'take me, take me, take me.'
Merida's foot fell out from underneath her and she swallowed a scream as she skidded down a shallow ravine and sank her weak ankles into the mud. She twisted the left minutely as she was tossed forward into the silt and up to her elbows in water and rocks.
Angus cried out from above and she was glad she had enough sense not to let go and not pull him down on top of her.
"I'm fine, lad!" She pulled herself free with a grunt. "Calm! Be calm for me!"
She really wished for her dragon at that moment.
Yanking her twisted ankle free, she swallowed a shout of rage as she began to hobble forward again. She took a few deep breaths to steady her quickened heartrate while she waited for the Wisps to reappear.
Come! Here!
Down the water, she tiptoed carefully. It was dangerous work, putting most the weight on her right leg while trying to navigate the slick stones beneath her feet.
If she fell again, she might snap her wrist or finger.
'Keep yer head, lass.'
After a few meters, she saw the gorge had lessened and she could pull herself up to the other side. It would mean leaving Angus, but she was being beckoned and couldn't refuse the call. Even if she tried, it was a magical pull that sang in her blood like a siren-song—even if it was driving her towards being gutted at the end of a wild boar, she couldn't stop now.
Hobbling up and onto the steady pathway she didn't recognize, the turned to see her anxious horse pacing back and forth on the high edge of the other side.
"I'll come back for ye, lad! Do'nae fret! I promise!" She swore.
Come! Here!
She turned back to the blue lights, beckoning, calling, demanding, promising. Merida cursed at the pull and hurried forward into the darkening woods, her left ankle weakening further with every step and making her struggle to keep going.
"Fuck ye all!" She panted, pained and struggling. She leaned into a tree and heard them singing, come come come comecomecomecome.
Picking herself up again, she stumbled a few more steps before she realized what she was standing next to.
"There's no fuckin' way…"
The little blue light waved, flickered, and then disappeared with a pop!
'The witch's cottage…' she blinked, stunned to stillness. 'It's back.'
"Ah!" A voice, familiar and terrifying, made Merida's breath hitch. "There ye are! I've been waitin'!"
She slowly turned, heart faltering, to see the goggle eyed Callieach.
"It's been quite a while, Princess!" She crowed, stomping forward with her bear headed cane. "Come! Come in!"
She snapped her fingers, the door opened, glowing blue and cold and bright. It smelled like the clouds, like ozone, like lightning and dragon power.
Merida gasped.
"Come along, dearie!"
And, like with the Wisps, she was pulled forward, unbidden and unwilling and with no other choice.