Just a heads up that there are only two chapters and an epilogue left after this. Hang in there, kids!
The noise and heat of the forge felt like home as he leaned in. "Master Davey?"
"Good day, Lord Hiccup." The smith set aside his tongs and bowed fractionally; Hiccup fidgeted uncomfortably.
"It's just Hiccup. 'Lord' makes it sound worse, which is not something I ever thought was possible," he added under his breath. He set a roll of papers on the worktop. "Here are the designs, as promised."
"Thank you."
"Since I'm here, can I ask you one more favor?"
"Of course." He lent Hiccup an apron and stoked the fire as the younger man grinned, pushed up his sleeves, and got to work.
Could it be true, that what she wanted could also be what the kingdom needed? It needed a queen whose consort would not only provide the necessary heirs but also support her rule, help her to be strong and wise. Merida needed more than a playmate; she needed a partner. Someone to demand that she be the best ruler she could, but also someone to care for her while she was busy caring for the kingdom. Someone she might grow to love, and who might love her back.
She'd been thinking too much. For weeks, months her brain had been working, weighing possibilities, trying to predict outcomes until nothing made sense. And then suddenly it had made sense, though she'd kept on second-guessing herself. Be yourself, Mum had said. Be bold. Trust your instincts.
It was about time she listened to her mother.
Angus made short work of the path to their campsite on the shore. He sniffed the air and tossed his head, likely nervous at the smell of the dragons; she dismounted, calling him a craven beast. Then he whinnied and reared back as Toothless bounded toward them, eyes wide and tongue lolling, looking far friendlier than a fantastical creature of the night should do.
"Hello, Toothless." He butted her playfully and Merida laughed. "This is Angus. Angus, ye great dafty, this is Toothless."
Angus was not impressed. He snorted as Toothless cocked his head, nostrils flaring as he whirred curiously.
"Where's your boy, then?" she asked, scratching beneath Toothless' chin. "I want to speak to him."
Toothless craned his neck back the way he'd come from and let out a gravelly yowl. She wasn't sure if he was indicating where Hiccup was, or calling for him.
Evidently it was the latter; Hiccup shouted "Coming!" and emerged from the tent a moment later, rubbing a cloth over his damp hair. It looked like he'd dressed with some haste, and she felt unusually warm all of a sudden. Toothless nosed her side until she resumed scratching him again, though more distractedly than before.
Hiccup looked at Toothless next to her, and Angus in the background. "If you're planning to offer some kind of trade, it's not gonna happen. You can keep the horses; I'll stick with dragons," he said.
"Do. It's safer for all of us." She kept a straight face while she spoke, her tone earnest, but then the façade cracked and she smiled. Part of him—and not a small part—wanted to go to her, trace the curve of her mouth with his thumb, tangle his hands in her abundant hair, find the pulse in her neck with his lips and make it race. He hoped he could control himself until he found out why she'd come to see him, though. She gave Toothless one more scratch before she stepped forward, toward where he stood grinning crookedly.
Despite knowing he should let her speak first, Hiccup said, "I made you something. And I wanted you to have it, even if…you know." He scratched the back of his neck. "Something to remember me by, if nothing else." He fumbled in his pocket.
Damn it, she'd had what she wanted to say all prepared. She'd been ready to be cordial and genuine and controlled, to make her offer and explain her reasons, if necessary. They'd have a mature, responsible conversation, and then he'd answer. No scenario she'd imagined had included his hair glowing coppery in the sunlight, or his tendency to be disarmingly charming when she least expected it, or his blasted thoughtfulness and skill with his hands. Damn him. He was ruining everything.
"Will you marry me?" she blurted out. His eyes widened in shock.
Any second now she was going to take it back. She must've gotten him confused with someone else, or had skipped the part where she asked him to help her practice proposing to the real lucky guy. All of those possibilities were more likely than the one where she'd actually meant to ask him.
When she didn't recant he had to ask. "Are you sure? I'm not going to get any better than this, if that's what you were hoping…"
"You are," she insisted, face red. "That is, you don't need to, because you're already wonderful, but you'll still get better. And you'll make me better, too."
"You're pretty great right now."
It was a compliment, that much was obvious from the warmth in his voice, but it wasn't a yes. Her eyes dropped to study the shore. "I understand if you don't want to…"
"No, I want to. Me wanting to is not the problem." That sounded much more promising, and she felt her spirits bob upward. "It's…"
"If I want to," she supplied. "If I'm choosing you of my own free will, or simply because you're the…lesser evil."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," he said, crossing his arms.
She ignored his tone. When she looked up, she saw his expression flickering between hope and doubt, a doubt that she understood all too well and wanted to dispel, and a hope that fluttered inside her chest as well. "I assume you aren't thinking anything stupid, like that I'm only asking you for the sake of making an alliance, or I'm only interested because of your dragon."
"That had crossed my mind." Along with an image of Astrid jabbing a finger at him and telling him with her typical no-nonsense snarl not to embarrass the tribe.
"Make no mistake: I do want an alliance with your tribe." She took a step toward him, advancing steadily with each statement, growing more confident the closer she got. "I do love Toothless and flying. I do think you'll be a brilliant king. I do want to kiss you again, and more. And I do like you better than any other man I know." By now they stood toe to toe; Hiccup kept his arms crossed firmly over his chest to stop his hands from giving in to the temptation of her waist, her hips, right there and begging to be caressed. He forced himself to focus on her words.
"Just like?"
She couldn't say the other thing. Not yet. Not even if it was creeping steadily toward the tip of her tongue as he stared down at her, amused and most likely more eager than he meant to appear. "It's only been two weeks," she said helplessly, hoping that he'd understand. "But an awful lot."
No other man had ever known her so well. Had it been anyone else she would have fled, kept him from getting close enough to hurt her, and even now her heart beat against her ribs like a frightened bird. But Hiccup wouldn't hurt her. He hadn't let her drop from Toothless' back, harness or no; he wouldn't let her fall now, or ever. Her trust in him was unhesitating. The realization of it would have shocked her, but the alternative, not trusting him, pushing him away, was no alternative at all.
"Would you feel the same way if you were a laundress and I was a blacksmith?"
If that were the case she'd have more time—she wouldn't have to rush to choose like this. She'd be able to wait until she loved him wholeheartedly. He knew that. But even then she would want to be by his side. Blacksmith or dragon trainer or chieftain's son, it made no difference; there was no better man, and if he'd agree to marry her she'd be more fortunate than she'd ever thought possible. She nodded, looking up at him through her eyelashes, and he exhaled shakily.
"I should have known I wasn't going to get the chance to say what I practiced," he said, with a breathless laugh.
She twisted her fingers together to hide their trembling, hoped he couldn't hear the pounding of her heart. "And what was that?"
"That I would understand and I'd make sure Stoick agreed to an alliance with your dad no matter who you chose. But I was going to casually put it out there that it should be me you picked, because I kind of like you a lot and I'd hate it if you married one of those other guys. Or anyone else, really." If he was nervous, it didn't show, not through the half-smile he graced her with; for just a second she marveled that there was a girl in Berk who had known him and somehow managed not to fall in love with him. "And I made you this."
He'd had to estimate the size, though it hadn't been hard with the memory of her fingers twined with his. When the metal had cooled he'd filed the roughest edges and cleaned it up a bit, but it was obvious that the ring had started its life as a horseshoe nail. She recognized it right away and took the ring from him, slipping it onto the third finger of her left hand and admiring it contentedly. Though the metal glinted faintly in the sunlight, the thick band was a stark contrast to her pale, slim hand, hands her mum had always praised for their elegance. As symbols went, the ring was perfect.
"What do you think?" she asked, holding out her hand for him to see.
He gave it the briefest of glances, enough to satisfy his professional ego by seeing that it fit decently well, before he caught her hand and squeezed it tight. "Merida," he said through a mouth that felt like he'd been gargling sand, "I would be happy to marry you." It felt like the truest thing he'd ever said, even if part of him begged leave to say more.
He'd given her no title, put no condition on the statement. She had never felt less like the princess, or more like herself, and as he kissed her she had no doubt that she'd picked the right man.
There were fewer people present than had crowded the hall a fortnight ago. Or, rather, fewer strangers; it seemed that most of the servants had taken leave of their duties to hear the announcement. Like as not there were drinks and small stacks of coins depending on her choice. She nearly smirked at the thought.
Her dad stood; a hush fell. She felt a pair of invisible hands seize her throat. She had to stop this—she'd made a mistake. It would just take a moment to fix it. Otherwise the consequences would haunt her forever, and she wouldn't be able to bear it. She turned to her dad to ask him to wait, just for a bit, for the last chance to act.
Unfortunately he took the movement as his cue to start. "Princess Merida, have you chosen?"
Too late. It was too late to stop from hurting him. "I have."
She looked out at the people staring back at her. They were all watching expectantly; she tried not to focus on any one face, especially not his. Without seeing him she knew that he'd look too hopeful for her to stand. "It has been our privilege to host you all. We are honored by the respect and esteem you have shown us. Thank you." She bowed her head to them, grateful that she'd practiced the words in her room. Had she not done so, they would have stayed stuck under the lump in her throat.
All at once, she thought; the longer you wait, the worse it will be. "I choose Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III."
Murmurs swept through the assembly, along with a few cheers, some of which were from her brothers. Stoick patted his son's back firmly; Hiccup gave him a brief smile before grinning up at Merida. His easy enthusiastic reaction helped ease her trepidation, and she smiled back.
"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, do you accept?" Fergus asked. "Will you marry the princess?"
His grin grew wider. "Yes." The cheers were more confident as Fergus waved him forward and Hiccup stepped up onto the dais.
He was perfectly happy to stare at Merida with a goofy smile on his face as she blushed and smiled back, but the king directed them to face the hall. "My lords, the princess has declared her choice of husband. Will you accept this man as her consort?" Or will we have a problem? loomed unsaid.
Hiccup braced himself for the inevitable outburst from Lord Macintosh. An air of collective confusion filled the room when he glanced briefly at his son, who appeared unperturbed by the princess' rejection, and said, "Aye, Your Majesty."
That left Lord MacGuffin, and all eyes slid to where he stood with his son. The smile disappeared from her face when she saw Domnall's expression. The hope had gone; for a second his features crumpled, like a great weight had fallen on him. Then just as quickly his expression shuttered, a stoic mask settling into place. MacGuffin didn't look at his son. "We will abide by our word and respect the princess' choice."
"Good."
It took much too long for the hall to clear. The former suitors had to thank the king and queen for their hospitality and Merida for her kind attention as they said their goodbyes. A few stopped to congratulate Hiccup and Stoick as well, the chieftain having moved to stand at the foot of the dais, below his son.
Lord Macintosh's eyebrows indicated that he was grumpy but resigned. Merida smiled at Ewan. "Thank you for coming, and for letting me see your horse. I hope you find someone to give his sister to."
"I'm sure I will," he said cockily. Then he winked.
To Hiccup he said, "You won more than fair. Good luck with her." They shook hands.
Lord MacGuffin bowed stiffly. Twisting her hands in front of her Merida stepped toward the men. "Domnall—"
"Don't. Please." The words felt like a blow to her stomach and she flinched. He went on, shaking his head. "It's my own fault. I was stupid to hope. There was never any real chance that you'd pick me."
She choked out the words, desperate for him to hear. "There was. Right to the end, there was. Domnall, I'm sorry I didn't tell you first, in private. I didn't mean—"
"To hurt me?" Their gazes met; his expression was flat, but she wouldn't soon forget the pain in his eyes. Tears tracked down her cheeks, though she wasn't the one with cause to cry.
The sight of Merida crying wasn't something Hiccup was prepared for. He wanted to pry her fingers away from each other and hold her hand, but he wasn't sure if that would offend her. And he didn't want to rub it in that she'd picked him. Young MacGuffin looked pretty upset, in a fairly contained way, but that didn't mean he wouldn't snap.
He bowed, muttering, "Your Highness." A strangled noise just short of a sob escaped her mouth.
Despite the dreadful shaking of her limbs, she stayed rooted where she stood until they'd gone. Then, when only her family and future family were left in the hall, she threw her hands up to cover her face and rushed out of the room. "Merida," Hiccup called, taking a step to follow, but she didn't even slow.
"I'll go," Elinor said.
She found Merida weeping in her room. Elinor knelt on the floor next to her and gathered the girl in her arms, crooning quietly and rubbing her back. It was the most emotion the girl had shown in weeks, and for that Elinor was thankful, even if the emotion was sorrow.
Before she was able to speak clearly Merida sobbed out, "Even when I try to do the right thing, it goes wrong."
"Shh." She wanted to tell Merida that it would all be fine, that Domnall would recover sooner or later and find someone else to marry, but she knew her daughter wouldn't be appeased by what she thought were platitudes, no matter how true they were. Elinor stroked her hair gently until Merida's breathing calmed. Then Elinor admitted, "I'm glad you picked Hiccup."
Merida looked up, all shiny red nose and streaming eyes. The girl never did have a handkerchief with her. "Really?"
Her mum nodded. "For selfish reasons, to be honest. I'd never have been able to forgive myself if you picked someone other than the man you love out of a sense of duty."
"I don't love him," she claimed, chin wobbling.
It was possible that she truly believed that, Elinor thought, but more probable that she was stubbornly refusing to admit it for some reason that the queen could not begin to fathom. Now was not the time to try to convince Merida otherwise, though.
"Do you regret choosing him?"
She shook her head. "Not at all. But I regret hurting Domnall. I should have told him before, in private. He didn't deserve to find out that way." Her voice took on a nearly-hysteric edge as she asked, "And now what if I've humiliated Clan MacGuffin and they break ties with us?"
"Then they would not be men of their word," Elinor said firmly. "But as they are, you needn't worry about that. You're right. You've hurt someone who did you no harm, and you ought to feel guilty about it." Merida stiffened and drew back. "If you didn't feel badly about it, you'd be no better than a mindless beast, and I'd be ashamed of you. I don't expect you to punish yourself forever; once you've apologized properly you have to let go of the guilt. Let go, but remember how you feel now. Remember the grief, and let the memory guide you in the future."
Eventually Merida mumbled, "Should have known you'd turn it into a lesson." Elinor kissed her forehead and tilted her face up, smiling tenderly at her daughter, happy to see her smiling back even if her nose was running.
"Come on." Elinor stood, stifling a groan as her knees creaked and brushing dust from her skirt. She took Merida's and pulled her to her feet. "Wash your face and let's get back. We can't have the men planning your wedding without us."
Fergus didn't miss the way the lad's head snapped up when Elinor and Merida returned. In their absence the three men had moved to sit around a table; Hiccup was restless, his leg jiggling beneath the table. The lad looked more worried than a newly-betrothed person ought to, but then again, his bride-to-be had just run from the room crying. Fergus hoped she wouldn't change her mind. Oh, he'd do what needed to be done if she did, but it would be an awkward, uncomfortable process, even more awkward and uncomfortable than sitting silently with his possible future son-in-law and the boy's father, waiting for his wife and daughter to return. He exchanged a look with Stoick, who shrugged as minutely as a man of his size could.
Then Elinor swept in and saved him, calling for wine and saying, "Before we discuss the particulars of the betrothal, let's drink to our children's happiness." Hiccup shot to his feet, looking past the queen at Merida; her eyes were dry and she managed a smile as she took a seat across from him.
Hiccup could honestly say that he'd never given any thought to wedding planning before. It sounded more complicated than preparing for one of the old trips to find the dragons' nest, and about as exciting. The only thing that was important to him—besides who he'd be marrying—was having the ceremony on a Friday, to ensure that Frigga blessed the marriage, even if it was in Scotland; Stoick backed him up, and at their combined insistence the others agreed. As the discussion went on Hiccup tuned their parents' voices out in favor of trying not to stare at Merida and wondering if she'd changed her mind. Yesterday she'd seemed so sure, and happy; then after the announcement she'd been so upset. Was it because now she had to get married, ready or not? Was it him—had she realized that someone else was a better choice, and now it was too late? Was—
Under the table he felt a foot nudging the sole of his boot. He looked up to see Merida's hands folded atop the table, left over right, a ring on her finger that hadn't been there earlier. His eyes darted up to hers, sparkling now, and the shy curve of her lips, and a slow smile spread over his own face in return.