Hello, readers, it's been awhile, hasn't it? I'm still obsessed with this couple and I have been working on a couple of long stories, just like my other one. But sometimes I just get the itch and a story won't leave me be until it's put down. Something just eats at me until I put words to paper and let it breathe.

This will be a collection of those ideas, little pieces and bobbles, maybe connected to my other stories, maybe not.

Feel free to leave a review.

I don't own either one of these franchises or their characters.

Sunrise

"I learned shame when I was young

I will do better in the morning

Choked libido fucked me up

I will do better in the morning

Suck me dry you uptight fakers

You stole from me lovemaking

I'm always left with the taste in my mouth

I will do better in the morning

Behind my eyes a familiar child

I take his hand and he finally smiles

Be gentle with yourself as you uncover

Your best kept secrets yet to be discovered

In stillness, boys, clear water to the bottom

You will do better in the morning

I will do better in the morning."

—Birdtalker, I Will Do Better in the Morning.

"Hey, Mer," Hiccup called in greeting to his girlfriend of six years as she came home after class and work. Toothless barked a few times at the door opening, then in recognition, and there was some soft shuffling from the redhead as she moved around him and into the room.

She appeared at his side, pressed a kiss to his temple and then moved away to shower. She carried the smell of the fried bar food and stifling alcoholic beverages she'd spent the night making and carrying to tables and patrons as she moved. Hiccup, engrossed in his work, only realized her horrible silence until she had closed the door to the bathroom.

Merida was many things, but quiet she was not. Whether she was making coffee in the morning or cleaning up the couch cushions, whether she was happy as a lark or furious has a hornet, his Merida was loud in all things. She shouted and swore, muttered furiously under her breath, banged cabinets and glasses as she moved and went about things, never knowing what it meant to be well and truly quiet. And, after being invited her family dinners more often than he could remember, it made sense.

So he was immediately concerned and stood to go knock on the door, then sat down, then stood back up, then paced in a few circles around their table. He didn't want to pressure her to talk, something he never thought he'd need to do before, nor invade her privacy by attempting to corner her in the bathroom. Usually, if they argued, she'd throw her weight around and toss a pillow or two before sulking for an hour at the shooting range or taking a long drive. Once she was calm again, she was articulate and apologetic about her emotions.

But silence.

Silence.

He grabbed his phone and immediately sent a message off to Rapunzel, their mutual friend who was in class with her earlier.

Hey, was Merida acting funny earlier?

Always reliable, it was barely a moment afterwards when his phone lit up with a message back.

Funny how?

Quiet? Sad?

Merida?! No, she was fine this morning. We talked about Saturday.

Saturday was the mutual game-night. She would go to Rapunzels', Astrids', or Elsa and Anna's place for movies, DND escapades, or video and boardgames. He would have people over at the apartment they shared to do the same, mostly because Merida hated the clean up after the fact and would much rather leave that to someone else.

"I chip in for food!" She excused herself, "Tha's all that matters!"

His mind raced to put things together when the door opened with a billow of steam. Her hair was wrapped tightly to her head with a little turban shaped towel her mother got her and she was swamped in a massive towel as she made way to their bedroom.

Is she okay? Rapunzel asked.

Fine, he replied immediately. I've got her.

Because he always did.

"Mer?" He called, still stunned by her quiet attitude. He wondered if he had forgotten something, a big date between them, and scrambled to open his calendar and notes for all the important timelines between them, scrolling.

"Aye?" She appeared in an old baggy sweatshirt of his that hung a little lower than her hips and a pair of green underwear, a bottle of lotion in her hand. She looked tired, sure, but no more tired than usual after a long day of both class and work.

"You, um…" he hovered around her like a satellite, nervous. She sat on the couch and kicked her feet up, flashing red toes that he was pretty sure she did months ago but still looked fairly intact. She squeezed a handful of lotion into her palm and went about her routine, looking up at him.

"Hic?"

"You okay?" He finally blurted. "Are…are we okay?"

She blinked, "Aye, of course. Unless…what did I do, now?"

"Nothing!" He yelped, "Um…did I—?"

"Nay," she went about rubbing her lotion in, his eyes drawn to the smooth expanse of her legs.

Down boy! He commanded himself. Focus!

"Is your family all right?"

"Why would'nae they be?" Her tone was almost dreamy, easy and light like she was in shock. He could feel the tension coiling in his shoulders, making him more jittery and nervous.

"I…well…uh," he scratched the back of his head. "How was your day at work?"

Done and smelling of tangerines and fruit, she put her feet down and sent him a little smile. "It was not too bad. Afternoon to early evenin' shifts are usually either tourists or weirdos, but it was easy-goin'. Got some good tips," she nodded, as if she was remembering something from weeks ago and not a few hours, "Um, got my new schedule…" She gave a little shrug. "Could have been worse, I s'pose."

"Okay…Are you hungry?" He could handle food, at the very least. Usually she swiped something from the kitchens, but every once and awhile she forgot because a customer was rude or her boss was snappy and she was too focused on fuming to eat.

"Mm…" She stood and went to rifle through the kitchenette, "I could jus' do wit' an apple, do'nae fash yerself about it."

"Well, I'm almost done," he offered, lying through the gap in his teeth but wanting to do something. "I could cook. Or, uh, hey!" He offered with an awkward laugh, "We could order in! Watch a movie?"

She looked at him then, really looked and he saw the daze clear for a second as she thought. He almost wanted to ask if she drank some alcohol or took a pill or something—she was so out of sorts he was half tempted to step on to their little balcony and call her mother in hopes that she might be able to tell him what's going on. Or Hamish, who was the only one of the triplets that liked him well enough to respond to his messages, and he couldn't get him mixed up with one of the other two because the number didn't change in his phone.

"Don't ye have a big presentation soon?" She cooked her hip, "I know ye'll most likely be up all night anyway, mo chridhe, but I will'nae make it the whole night."

A part of him melted like butter when she used her Gaelic and he knew she felt the same whenever he cracked out the bastardized Norse his father and Gobber had taught him growing up. Still, it just made him more unsettled about the entire thing, her brushing off herself for his benefit.

Merida, much like his good friend Jack, was always dragging him away from his desk and his notebooks and his own mind to make him go—get out, experience the wide world, see and do new things that used to scare him shitless. She probably knew, or she would have if she wasn't any less in her own mind, that he'd been at that table since nearly eight in the morning until now, just over fourteen hours. He had gotten up to walk Toothless twice, then fed him later, but hadn't barely moved.

Even further, she would have made a comment about Netflix and Chill with a waggle of her dark eyebrows or jumped at the opportunity to order from Tony's Town Square Restaurant and Pizzeria down the road. Merida, with little provocation, would easily murder for their garlic knots. But she shrugged him off again, instead insisting that he sit and focus on his work rather than spend some time with her.

Okay, he calmed himself down but the knowledge was real and tight in his chest. Something isn't right here.

He had two options, he decided: He could press her until she caved and it would mostly like erupt into some kind of argument and she'd disappear to calm down and he'd be stuck on his computer anyway, unable to work. Or, he could wait it out and let her crack open at her own time and reveal herself when she felt that she was ready.

He chose the latter, of course.

Boyfriend of the year, he nearly rolled his eyes at himself, You're lookin' right at him.

He saddled up to her and took her wide hips in his hands, kissing her on the nose and then the mouth. She sighed into his familiarity, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"I've been at that shitty table all day," he sighed against her cheek, "I'd say I deserve a break! How about we get Tony's?"

She chuckled, soft and quiet and his gut tightened. Where was the guffaws and chortles and snorts?

"Well, if we get Tony's, then I s'pose ye get to pick the movie?" She teased easily, nearly robotically.

"Oh, you've seen right through my dastardly plan!" He played along, keeping things as light as possible. "I'll insist on something fantasy, of course."

She rolled her eyes, "Of course."

"I'm thinking Lord of the Rings."

"All three of them?"

"Extended editions."

"We'll be here until tomorrow!" She accused, leaning her head against his shoulder but didn't offer any more complaints. He could smell her shampoo and whatever other myriad of products she used to keep her hair so long and in such immaculate ringlets, the towel wet as it pressed against his shirt.

Sweet cream and citrus and cherry lip-balm, that is what made up Merida.

"I'll reek of garlic, ye know," she muttered against him.

"Excuse you, we both will reek. If you think I'll surrender up the whole order to you, you have another thing coming!"

She huffed another laugh again, "I love ye, ye know? Madly…"

His hand rubbed up and down her spine and prayed she couldn't hear how loud his heart was racing as anxiety ricocheted through his entire chest.

"Are you just trying to get in some chill before our Netflix?" He teased, feeling breathless.

She hummed, "Ye caught me, boy-o."

"You are painfully transparent, sváss. But it's one of my favorite things about you."

"Oh, aye?" She leaned back, on ringlet falling out across her forehead, bright as blood and fire.

"Aye," he mocked with a ridiculous brow wiggle, knowing that usually got a rise out of her, one way or another.

She stared, hard, at the little scar he managed to get from banging around in the smithy when he was young and caught himself on the chin with a blade. There was no laugh, no annoyed huff and 'Tha' is not what I sound like!' or even a little saucy smirk and insinuation that she'd get him begging Odin to take him later in the night.

"Tony's it is, then," she patted his shoulder, moving away and he felt like something had snapped under his hand. "I'll cue up all nine thousand hours of Lord of the Rings."

"Are you…" he had to stop a different question from falling out of his mouth in a gasp, changing it midway, "Are you going to complain about how what a terrible shot Legolas would be the entire time?"

There was no smirk, no wiggle of her scantily clad hips, no scoff or insult or immediate rant about just how poorly the shooting was done and how the lad would'nae managed to hit anythin' but himself! Nothing that he would have expected, nothing he had seen her do the many times they'd done the same thing on a different night. She just chuckled, curled up on the couch with a pillow pulled to her chest, and leaned against the side furthest from him as she whipped up the controller, scrolling through the options to turn on the right film.

"Want a blanket?" He asked, near choking on fear.

"I got it," she stood and went to their room, "Ye just order."

She hated talking on the phone.

"One or two?" He asked, on autopilot now.

"Hmm, one is fine. Just do'nae forget—!"

"I would never," he promised, but it was more than that. Somehow he meant it as a promise in life and she paused in pulling their old throw to their ratty couch. "Um…Coke? I need the caffeine."

"Sure, dragon-boy, go nuts," she wrapped herself up and sat down, the beginning theme already filling up the tiny space. He waited for a threat to not order that pineapple shite or she'd toss him out the window, but it never came.

He called, hearing the familiar voice of Tony on the phone. He ordered a large for the two of them, half green peppers for her and half black olives for himself. He got them the double order of the garlic knots, knowing she'd be pleased, and a coke to help keep him wired all night with sugar and caffeine but he doubted he'd be able to sleep until things were put right. His whole world was askew, akimbo, and he didn't know how to revert it.

He was hungry, he realized, all the nervousness put away but it was eating at him even as he moved towards her. He cuddled up next to Merida, making a big show of being half frozen until she threw herself across him, playfully tucking in the edges of half the blanket around him and comparing him to her three devils. He tickled her to shrieking, uncaring if the Hamada's upstairs got worried, just happy to see her smile. Released, she panted a little on his chest, as she had done many times for different reasons, and he kissed the top of her head as Frodo went on in the background attempting to give Gandalf the One Ring.

They watched for a few minutes, his hand stroking her back in between the beating of his heart. The quiet ate at him, but every time he started to speak, ask something, he stopped himself. Eventually, the food came and they sat to eat like goblins she'd say, at the couch, in good teasing. Hiccup wasn't raised so strictly, it just being his dad and Gobber most of the time, but she basked in the comfort of their relaxed home. Her own, he had known, was a bit stifling with rules and expectations passed down from mother to daughter through money and lineage and life.

The movie was half over by the time they put away the dishes and the cups in the sink and the boxes in the fridge for later. They returned for a few fantastic fight scenes, him expecting some commentary about the way they swung their axes and swords but receiving none. She was so quiet, so still, that he couldn't stop his petting hands, as if he was hoping to right her with touch alone.

Toothless joined them, at some point, by her feet on the couch. He was far too large to get up while they were there together, but it was as if even the great dog knew that something was not quite right with the redhead.

Hiccup started to say something a thousand times, a million questions burning him. But he just kept holding her, keeping her close, hoping that wherever she decided to go, she'd take him with her.

"You know," he murmured, stroking her round face, still staring at the screen, "If you ever have…anything to tell me, you can, right?"

There was some tension under his hands, but she just leaned in closer. "Aye. I always know that."

"Okay," he whispered, squeezing her tightly and hearing her sigh against him. "Okay."

Hiccup woke to Toothless' snores from the foot of the bed and an empty pillow at his side. Drowsy, but panicked, he reached blindly for his foot to get himself up and out of bed to find his missing girlfriend.

He had been sleeping next to Merida since a summer camp expedition gone wrong when he was thirteen and they both ended up with a serious case of poison ivy and were stuck together in a tent to limit the spread. She had slept like the dead even then while he was constantly up scratching, swearing to whoever might listen that he'd never step foot into the woods again if he could just get thirty minutes of rest.

The fact that he had come to bed after she had, around two, only to wake to her suddenly gone a few brief hours later was terrifying. Merida did not get restless, she did not toss and turn, she only really even snored when it was super cold out or if she was sick. Sometimes he'd roll over to check if she was breathing she was so damn still. It was all too strange and too odd for him not to be concerned and uncomfortable.

He stumbled into the main room to find her on her laptop, biting away at her cuticles. As soon as she saw him, though, she gasped and snapped the MacBook closed with enough force he prayed he wouldn't have to replace the screen again.

He raised a brow, flippant and tired and too worried to care.

"Porn?" He snarked, "Look, I know I said I no bondage, but if it's keeping you up, I guess I can get on board."

"No!" She gasped, flushing at him, "No, that was'nae—! No!"

Her hair had come loose from the wrap it was in, all around her in a mass that was frizzing more by the second. She was meticulous about very few things in her life and her bow and her horse and hair were the top three, the fact that she hadn't worried about whatever extra steps she usually took adding to all the idiosyncrasies of the night. He thought back, harder and harder about the past week, wondering if this was just part of something he has missed because of his newest project. He felt like he was going mad and didn't know how much longer he could wait out whatever this was.

He stared out the windows, seeing the pale line of the promise of the coming sun and sighed.

"Can you tell me…" he was scared, he didn't want to press. "Is it me? Is it us?"

"No, nay, Hiccup—!" She was on her feet, moving, hovering between him in the doorway and the couch. "Please…Please know that—this—!" she spat, gesturing grandly, "Nothin' to do with ye, trust me!"

He sighed through his nose, "Then will you tell me what? Will you talk to me?"

She floundered, swallowing, starting and stopping and pacing and, if he was mistaken, shaking.

His mind went to three terrible possibilities all at once.

The worst news.

"Are you…sick?"

"No!"

The scariest.

"Are…Mer, are you pregnant?"

"No, ye madman!"

The most painful.

"Did you cheat on me?"

"Are ye daffy?!" She threw a pillow at him and he was so pleased that he let it whack him in the arm when he could have caught it. "No! Nay, never! Not even once fuckin' thought of it, unlike ye and that blonde haired—!"

"Don't deflect this," he immediately said as he returned to the moment, "And I never had a thing for Elsa, as I've said a hundred times. What's going on?"

She bit her lip and wrapped herself up in her arms like she could run, like she could hide. She had nowhere to go, though, not at this hour, not this time.

"Mer?" He came in close, unafraid of her fire. "Hey…hey, woah…"

She was trembling hard under his hands and she looked like she might begin to cry. His Merida, solid Teflon, had cried only twice to his memory—once when her grandmother died and left her a slew of bear related carvings and she burst in half-hysterical tears and when her mother was in a car accident and put in the hospital. Years upon years did he have with this girl who became a woman and here she was, about to break down and he couldn't manage to figure out why.

"Somethin' happened," she stared resolutely away from him, not meeting his eyes. "Years ago. When I was young. Before we started dating in high school. Years before now."

"Okay," he murmured, "Mer, you're shaking. Can I…do you want me to touch you? Do you want me step away? Tell me how to comfort you when you speak about this."

"Ye can't," she gasped, chest heaving and two tears raced down her cheeks, the left making it all the way the floor first. Something in him was breaking, too, to see her like this. "Ye can't. Nothin' makes this right."

"Okay," he whispered, trying to be close without crowding. "Do you want me to call your mom?"

"No!" She tore away and covered her mouth with her hand, letting out a wail that had him more scared than when he lost his foot. "No, ye can'nae! Ye can'nae, d'ye hear me?!"

"Okay," he put his hands up, showing her he didn't even have his phone. "No mom, no dad. You and me."

"Ye can'nae…" she stuttered, "Ye can'nae…"

"Okay, okay," he assured, "Just breathe. Breathe for me, okay?"

She did, holding her chest as she heaved great gasping breaths.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm sorry. I did'nae want ye to know."

He gave a somewhat helpless shrug, "I still don't!"

"Ye…ye…Are ye goin'ta be on campus anytime this week?"

He nearly staggered at the change of topic.

"Yeah…uh, I gotta meet with professor Callahan on Friday."

"You can't go," she told him, "Cancel it, please."

"Merida," he felt like he was in an episode of the Twilight Zone. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"Ye can'nae be on campus right now, just until like…next Monday, okay? Swear on it."

"No!" He let out an incredulous laugh, "Why would I agree to something like that?"

"Because I asked it of ye!" She snarled, crying but furious and at least that was familiar. "Because ye trust me to keep ye safe and protect ye!"

"Merida, sváss," he went for her hands and she pulled away and he didn't pursue her. "You are making no sense. You have to start from the beginning here."

Something started to unravel and she stood, holding herself, crying.

"Ye can'nae go." She whispered. "Ye can'nae go. Promise. Promise. Swear it unto me."

"Okay," he was panicking, quietly, himself. "Okay! Okay, I'll push it back a few days. Dr. Callahan is a bit of a megalomaniac, but okay. I'll do it."

She nodded, still shaking. "Good. Good."

"Shh," she let herself fall into him, sniffling and huffing against his shirt. "Shh, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, okay? Just breathe."

"Just do'nae go," she murmured. "You promised. You promised."

"Okay, I won't go." He wanted to press her into telling him why—it seemed like a good exchange, one for another. But he refused, huffing against her mane of hair. "I won't."

"Just…ye must stay away until I tell ye, until I can…"

"Merida, you're scaring me," he whispered. "If you won't talk to me, let me call someone. Anyone."

"No," she whispered. "I've got it, I've got ye, I've…"

"I know," he leaned back, "But something is not right here and you're not alone. You're never alone."

"I am, in this," she pulled back, fierce and bright like she might go into battle. "Here, with him and his stinkin', rottin' black heart—!"

"Him?"

"—I'll kill him before he hurts ye, I swear it, I will'nae let him come here and ruin this and try to bring me back to that place—!"

"What?"

"—I am not that girl anymore and if he thinks he can sneak in here and destroy what we have built together, I'll slaughter him where he stands!" Her chest heaved, "I'll choke the fuckin' life out of him an' watch his soul leave his eyes and hear his fuckin' death rattle!

He gaped, astounded and horrified and stunned. He knew when Merida was joking or ranting and he knew when she was serious and she was frighteningly serious. She was terrified and furious and dangerous like this and he feared for whoever she might be speaking about.

"If he's dangerous, then you'll stay here with me." He attempted to reason with her, trying to calm himself and her. "You can protect me best if you're here with me, right?"

"Nay, he can'nae…if he finds out yer with me…"

"Sváss," he was not above begging at the moment, "Sváss, please. Talk to me. From the beginning, from the top. Tell me what's going on, tell me what's happened."

She pulled away and he watched her fetch her computer, opening it up and typing her password in before turning it to him. It was from her university email, showing that there was to be a speaker on campus of some repute. The image was oddly familiar, a man with raven black hair and a broken nose, his massive shoulders cut off by the frame of the image. His eyes were cold, as cold as Berk in the winter, dead and solid as the earth once the winter settled in. It wasn't until he saw the name that it struck him why Merida was so upset.

"Malcom Mor'du is a fuckin' monster!" Fergus DunBroch had roared once, when Hiccup had been with her family for Thanksgiving or another holiday when he was fairly young and his relationship with Merida somewhat new. One of the Lairds had mentioned the man and his sudden absence from the parties and holidays.

"I dream about the way to make that fucker die!" Elinor was the one to calm him down as she leaned into his ear and whispered what seemed to be a spell to settle the bear of a man to quiet stillness. But it was Merida that had disappeared and left him to deal with the awkward silences afterwards. Elinor promised she'd be okay and make her call him the next day, but he had clung to his phone the whole night and all through school when she wasn't there.

"Dr. Malcom Mor'Du on Scottish Heritage, Bloodlines, and Symbolism. Symposium at 8 pm at Walter Hall on Friday."

"He's a monster," she whispered, fiercely and ferociously, "I saw him, today, before I saw this. I thought I'd seen a ghost…"

"Mer…?"

"I knew him, my family did, my Da did. He was big, y'know, on…on lines and lineage. He said that we were both from good lines, ye ken it. Good lines, full of…full of real Scottish clans and…"

She blinked more tears and he hoped and prayed that this wasn't going down the path he thought it was.

"He was…conditioning me," she said in a tone that he knew meant she had been told that's what it was and she was repeating it. "He was groomin' me. Sayin' weird shite, always around when no one else was, always sayin' how pretty I'd be once I was…"

She choked a little, "Once I was a mother."

His fingers flexed reflexively, wanting to strike out against this man.

No, he realized, Monster is far better a term.

"So he…I don't know, he just kept making weird threats!" She stuttered a little. "Promises. That he'd be my perfect husband and I'd be his wife and my Dad would love it and my Mum would be proud. He kept askin' me if I had gotten my fuckin' period yet, the creep!"

I'll cut the brake lines in his car, he thought, almost out of his body. It'll look like an accident.

"Then, then when I hit fourteen he…he caught me in my room before Christmas, ye ken…" She couldn't look at him, she refused. "I didn't…he didn't…"

"I know." They shared their first time together on prom night in the back of his old pickup truck, having skipped out on the dance and filled the bed with blankets and pillows and sodas with every intention on watching the stars and having a perfectly wholesome night.

Well, he did. Merida brought condoms in her purse and jumped him because he was too shy and nervous to even dare ask.

"He got my skirt off but I kicked him in the nose and started screamin' my head off. Da got home early from work, thank God," her eyes rolled heavenward and he felt her relief, "I'd never seen him so mad."

Hiccup didn't think he'd ever been so mad either. At a photograph, no less.

"…How is he not in jail?" He didn't see Fergus DunBroch not pressing charges against a man that tried to sexually assault and rape his only daughter.

"I could'nae go forward!" She sputtered, "I was a fuckin' coward and now—Now, God knows where he is or what he's doin' or done or if he's tryin' to hurt another lass!" She held her head.

"You are the bravest human being I have ever met in my entire life, Merida DunBroch. Don't you ever think otherwise," he pressed his brow to hers and she gasped and gasped and gasped against him as she tried to calm down.

He sat her down and held her as the sun rose behind them.

"Thank you for telling me," he whispered. "I'm glad to have your trust."

Her hand came got grab, almost clawing, at his forearm. "Ye are the only one, beyond my family…"

He shushed her, keeping her close.

"I think we should take a mini-vacation," he teased against her wild hair, "Let's go somewhere else for a few days."

She snorted into him, "I can'nae just leave work and class…and yer projects and presentations…"

"I haven't missed any due dates and you haven't missed any classes this semester," he attempted to convince her. "Let's go up to your dad's cabin in the woods. You, me, Toothless, and the great outdoors."

"Ye hate the great outdoors," she sighed. "And there really is no worse wifi anywhere else in the world…"

"I can bring everything I need with me!" He assured, always being much more analog than most of his other classmates, "And you…well, you can bring a book or two, I don't know. We can lie, tell the professors we've had an emergency and need to leave and we'll be back once he's gone."

Her hand stroked his arm, "Ye'd…do tha' for me?"

"Mer!" He laughed into her, "Oh, gods, Mer, I'd tilt the whole fucking world on its axis for you! I'd—I'd yank the moon out of orbit and melt it down and-and-and smelt you a sword and—!"

"A moon-sword?" She chuckled, "Dragon-boy, ye better use that on your next DND campaign or I will be so pissed."

"You are so hot when you mentioned my DND campaigns," he teased back, "But—! You know what I mean."

"Aye," she sighed, "I do…I do, I really do. But…"

"But…?"

"It feels like…I feel like a coward again, like I'm runnin' from him."

He hummed against her, "Why not…think of it like running towards something instead?"

Merida clucked her tongue and he could feel her roll her eyes. "Ye and yer logistics."

"I'm just sayin', y'know, think of it—like running towards…me…"

Lame! A voice rung loudly in his head, sounding just like Snotlout when they were both fifteen and Hiccup was a much easier target.

"I'm scared…if he finds out…about ye…he might try somethin'."

Because of his heritage, his Nordic background, the proud Viking lines his family traced that was so harshly contrasted against her Scottish.

"I've already lost a leg, what more could he possibly do?"

She hit him on the shoulder, "Do'nae even play like that!"

"Ow, sorry!" He yelped, "But I'm serious! Merida, c'mon…We're on an incredibly populated campus on one of the most well established universities in the world. If some guest speaker goes berserk and punches me in the face, he'd be ruined! No one would ever hire him again, to speak or otherwise."

"I do'nae care!" Her eyes glimmered again and he held his breath. "I do not want ye near him! Henry Harðbeinn Haddock, I swear unto whatever heathen gods yer people sailed under, I will—!"

"Easy, Braveheart! Jeez, where's the woad when you need it?"

"Oh, shut it!" She smacked him again, "Ye know nothin' gets ye more riled than when I wear my tartan and quote shite in Gaelic."

"I mean…well, yeah," he grinned and she smacked him again, but was finally laughing loudly and honestly like she always should and he didn't care what she did to him, tartan or no.

"But I'm serious," he shook her in his grip and she huffed a sigh. "Let's go. Fuck this city for awhile, just a few days. We'll go to that orchard you love, go apple picking and sit and drink alcoholic cider and relax by a fire. I'm tired, you're tired—let's go!"

This was usually the other way around, but that was relationships sometimes. It wasn't in his nature to skip out on things, to run off into the sunset, but if it was what she needed he'd do it and more.

"Hic…I don't know…"

"Why? Why not?"

"What…what if he does somethin', while we're gone? To a…poor girl who does'nae ken what he is?"

"How are you going to stop him, sváss? Tail him, stalk him, threaten him if he gets too close to someone? You'll be kicked off campus, your riding scholarship revoked, and then what will we do? Because then I'll have to go to prison for murder and orange is so not my color."

She cackled, head thrown back to reveal the pale expanse of her throat.

"Ye madman," she carded her fingers through his hair, "Absolute madman."

"What does that make you, then? Hmm?"

"A woman in love," she sighed, leaning again against his shoulder. "By God, I'm so tired, mo chridhe…"

"Then…today." He begged. "Stay with me, today if you won't for the rest of the week. Call in to the bar, make some excuse."

"Oh, like in that stupid movie Anna loves so much?" She hummed, putting on her best empty-headed, valley accent, "Ahah, ahah. I'm sick!"

"Boo, you whore," he immediately (and somewhat automatically) quoted and she shook with mirth.

His leg was going numb from her weight but he wouldn't move her even if he had to have the rest of it taken off by inches to keep her close.

"Come on," he begged again. "You and me."

There was some movement to his side and a heavy head with bright green eyes fell against his knee. Toothless thumped his tail furiously against the floor, his sole ear twitching and he harrumphed in agitation.

"Okay, okay, you mutt," he scratched under his chin, "You, me, and this big ol' softy here!"

She cooed at his great dog, some combination of a Newfoundland, Great Dane, and Caucasian Mountain dog. He had a sweet disposition and had been used in some dog-fighting ring for a brief time, resulting in his left ear getting torn off. Hiccup had made sure his new companion had a cushy life and Merida was always putting her mother's teachings to good use and stitching up his favorite toys or buying him more just to please him.

They had a good life, the two of them. He had never loved anyone the way he had loved her and knew he would most likely never feel the same way again.

I've got her.

That's what he told Anna.

"Today," he sighed. "You're calling in!"

"Hiccup, I can't!"

"You can and you will!" He demanded, seeing that the sun had nearly risen completely. "Up! Up, the rest can wait. You, me, and the mutt here are going to have a great day."

She looked up at him under her bloody lashes. "Hic…"

"Pants!" He demanded, "You are going to put on pants and stop distracting me, because I won't fall for it!" He dramatically threw his arm over his eyes. "I'm not just a piece of meat you can abuse, you know!"

She giggled and stood, dodging his swats to her backside.

He collected his computer, sent off a few emails and went around to buy tickets to an action film for later in the evening. He put on Toothless' harness, wriggling and writhing, before he put on pants and a sweater for the colder temperatures. Merida was in leggings and a long green sweater that nearly acted like a dress, a stark red beanie on her brow and heading to the door to fetch her boots. She was still a little red in the eyes and nose, but the pouring sun that drowned them from the windows lit her up from within.

"I did'nae meant to…" she gestured to the sunrise, "Well…all of this was not what I meant to do."

He shrugged, "The sun will always rise. I'll always be there to face the morning with you."

She looked a little wet and sniffly, "Then I know that things will always be better in the mornin'. If we're there…if ye are with me, all will be right."

He kissed her, soft and attempting to speak novels without saying a single word.

I have you, always.

"Let's go," he pressured. "You, me, and a new day."

She pressed herself against him. "A new day, everyday."

Things would be better in the morning.

Every morning together.

Little angsty, but what can I say? It was interesting to put them in a more modern environment for a change and I might see where that idea leads me.

Hope you enjoyed.

-Yukiona.