All or Nothing

Chapter Thirteen

...

Warning; there may be typos here, I've lost access to MS Word and though I'm usually an excellent speller and pretty good at spotting typos, there's likely to be one or two (or more) that I missed.

Also, I'd like to re-iterate that you can follow this on my Tumblr account, which has an open ask if you feel the need to ask about canon/send me hate.

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On with the show!

...

Mortified.

Awkward.

Ashamed.

Maudlin it may have been, but Elsa found that thinking up new words to describe how she felt about giving free reign to her hormones through drunkenness was a good way of keeping her mind off of the memory of how Merida's bare skin had felt under her fingers...

Stop that.

Ahem.

Appalled.

Humiliated.

Ignonimious.

She was fairly certain that nobody suspected that anything was amiss. They had all eventually turned up in the dining hall to groan and blearily drink coffee to chase away their hangovers. When Merida sat down and winced, rubbing her backside and mumbling that she had bruises on her bruises, Elsa had buried her suddenly scarlet face in her napkin and faked a coughing fit.

She doesn't remember. Thank the Lord.

But in a way, wasn't that worse? Didn't that mean she had essentially taken advantage of a drunk, completely insensible girl?

Despicable.

Reprehensible.

Heinous.

There had been a moment when she could have sworn that Merida kissed her back, but how could she be sure of that, drunk as she was? And kissed back or not, she hadn't consented to be forcibly undressed, even if she had laughed about Elsa ripping her bodice open (could have been a surprised laugh, who knew?)

In between flagellating herself over her actions, she had found herself thoughtlessly bringing herself to orgasm at the memory, imagining that Merida had indeed responded, indeed had pressed her body fervently to Elsa's to spur her on...

The worst. I am just the worst.

...

As the mortification slowly began to wear off and she kept her distance from Merida, she considered calling Meena back to the castle to at least dispel a few of these troublesome urges. The thought of it made her feel a little sick, but perhaps it would be a safer option.

However, Meena had her own plans.

Passing by the entrance to the North tower one afternoon, Elsa heard Merida's queer up-and-down Dellian accent accompanied by a familiar melodic trill. A rush of cold dread filtered through Elsa's being and she barely felt her feet carrying her up the tower steps.

"...it's really rather charming, don't you think?"

To Elsa's horror, Meena was sprawled languidly across the ledge towards Merida, ostensibly showing her a necklace she was wearing but in reality trying to display as much of her bosom to her as possible. Her dress was shockingly low-cut even for her, it dipped towards her navel and threatened to expose her at a single movement.

"Yes, is very nice," Merida answered pleasantly. If she noticed this blatant provocation, she didn't show any sign.

"WHATare you doing?"

Despite herself, Elsa winced. She hadn't meant to shout. Merida was looking right at her with alarm, but Meena straightened and dipped into a low curtsy, somehow managing to expose both her cleavage and her shapely legs in the process.

"Oh, your highness," she simpered. "Good afternoon. We were just speaking about you."

"You know you're not supposed to be here," Elsa hissed through her teeth.

"Oh, am I not? Please excuse me. I found myself wandering one day and I came across our noble visitor," Meena said coquettishly, sitting back down next to Merida. "We've been chatting for quite some time."

A sickening revelation occurred to Elsa when she saw the two girls side by side. Meena's hair had, over time, become less structured and more chaotic, and her mannerisms had become looser and more spontaneous. Her posture had slackened from a held lasciviousness to a lazy, rolling grace. Even her voice had changed from a husky even tone to a singsong lilt. Elsa had liked the change, it had attracted her.

Now she realized that Meena had been directly imitating Merida.

How long have they been meeting like this?

The air around them stiffened with chill and Elsa drew herself up to her sternest countenance, though the only effect it had on Meena was to paint an impish half-smile on her face.

"Lady Meena," she said, putting the full weight of her position into her words. "You will go to my antechamber and wait for me there. I would speak to you in private about this matter."

"Very well," Meena replied breezily and bounced away.

Elsa turned to Merida, wincing a little internally at how nervous she looked.

"How long have you and Lady Meena been meeting like this?" Elsa asked her, with what she hoped was a neutral tone.

"Two months maybe, don't know for sure," Merida answered. "She just come up here one day, I thought not to send her away. I was wrong to do this?"

"No, it's not your doing," Elsa sighed, massaging her temple. "Lady Meena has crossed a line, she knows this."

"Bodice is too small, I think," Merida offered. Elsa laughed, despite herself.

"Something like that. I'll speak to her."

She left Merida, hoping she'd reassured her somewhat, and prepared to challenge Meena without skewering her with an icicle. How dare she!

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't have you carted off to the dungeons," she hissed, throwing open the doors of the antechamber.

"Because that would be ridiculous? What grounds could you possibly explain? I don't think speaking to someone is a crime," Meena answered, infuriatingly smug.

"I'm the queen, I don't have to give a reason. Crawling around the castle uninvited for two months would suffice."

"Closer to three months, actually," Meena said with a sultry stretch. "Poor dear, I don't think telling time is her strong suit. She is a little dote, though. I can see why you like her so much."

"This ends now!" Elsa spoke through gritted teeth, to keep from shouting. "You do not see her, you do not speak to her, and you don't talk about her. Or so help me..."

"Or what?" Meena said as the humour dropped from her face and she met Elsa's eyes, challenging her. "How did it even take you this long to find out? I know you noticed when I started acting like her. It was the first time you even looked at me properly! How long are you going to keep denying yourself?"

Suddenly frightened, Elsa's words died in her mouth. Meena perched on the edge of a chair, toying with the dipping neckline of her dress.

"You think I did this to hurt you. If it hurts, that's not my doing," she said grimly. "Every whore knows lust, and love, and the difference between them. If you merely lusted after that girl, you'd have pounced on me the moment I copied her way of speaking."

She leaned in then, fixed Elsa with a look that rooted her to the ground.

"You LOVE her," she said, deliberately drawing out the word 'love.' "Only love could wound a person the way you have been wounded. And the more you pretend you don't, the deeper the wound becomes."

She sat back then, as Elsa felt alternating waves of sadness and terror flush through her. Almost casually, Meena spoke again while looking at her own reflection and rearranging her curls.

"You know, I don't think she's opposed to the idea. She certainly seems to think two women together is quite normal. And she thinks very highly of you. It's not as hopeless as you think."

"You've talked to her for three months and you know what she thinks?" Elsa said hoarsely as the words returned to her. "How can you know anything about her? About me?"

"What I know is that you've been torturing yourself over this and it needs to stop," Meena answered. "You should tell her how you feel. If she rejects you, then you'll know and you can move on. A broken heart can be healed if you let it. And if she doesn't, well..."

Meena moved past Elsa then to go to the door. Before she opened it, she called out once more, over her shoulder.

"I think I will not return. Tell her I said goodbye, won't you?"

Then she was gone, and Elsa crumpled to the floor, stricken.

...

I don't think she's opposed to the idea.

The words echoed in Elsa's mind. Any time there was a moment she couldn't fill with work, or talk, or task, she heard Meena's suggestion inch its way into her mindspace.

I don't think she's opposed to the idea.

She thinks very highly of you.

She was so deep in thought that the first two gentle knocks on her office door went unheeded. Only the third knock brought her out of her musing.

"Come in," she called, and her heart did a giddy little jump as Merida entered the room.

Something was up. She looked on edge. She was holding a strip of linen with clearly Gaelic writing on it.

Linen. Messages from Cava are always on hide.

"News from Dunbroch?" Elsa asked, beckoning her forward.

Merida sat, and handed her the linen. Her face was alarmingly white, her expression pinched.

"It's from Lord MacGuffin," she said quietly as Elsa scanned the writing. She could pick out one or two phrases by now, but she'd still need to put it through the book.

"Bad news?" Elsa asked.

"Not exactly," Merida answered. "Warrick's ships have pulled back on the Northeast coast. Lord MacGuffin wants to take a battalion out of Dunbroch."

"That's good..."

"They want to come here."

Oh.

"Oh," Elsa said weakly.

"Not permanently, of course," Merida assured her. "They want to consult with me on what they'll do next. And I think the old man wants to check up on me, too."

No. Say no. They'll try to take her back to Dunbroch. Then any chance you have is gone for good.

"I can host them on no man's land," Merida suggested. "They'll be fine with some tents. I can get them to leave their weapons in the boat. They won't like it, but..."

"Let's not be silly. You can host them here," Elsa said smoothly, ignoring the hammering of her heart and the thumping in her temples.

"What, really?" Merida sputtered, and she looked so pleased that Elsa couldn't help but relish the sight.

"Yes, we've hosted other countries' councils before. It'll mean some paperwork, but I'll leave that to you."

"Yes, of course," Merida nodded furiously, clearly relieved.

"Will your brothers be with this battalion, do you think?" Elsa asked, hoping to brighten her further and regretting it when Merida drooped a little.

"No, the boys are on the far North coast. They've had no contact with MacGuffin's people," she replied. "There'll be a few faces I know, though. MacGuffin's son will probably be in the battalion, he goes everywhere with his Dad."

Elsa felt a prickling sensation at this casual mention. Macguffin had been one of Merida's prospective suitors, she knew that much. Merida handed her the linen and plucked a hair to go with it. Elsa barely needed to translate the letter by now, she trusted Merida's intentions completely.

The same couldn't be said for these other Dunbroch natives, though she would offer them a temporary space in her kingdom for Merida's sake.

Lord, don't make me regret this.