Against the Clock

(Inspired by a heartbreaking gifset from timebenderss.)

Merida had lost track of time.

Time is fluid in nightmares – it rushes past to push the dreamer to the very worst parts, then it slows down so that every moment is agonized paralysis – then it loops back in around itself to start again. So had the time been when Merida faced Mor'du, in the standing stones, lit by torches that no hands held. She screamed to a mother that wasn't there anymore. Just as the terror reached its height, it began again, over and over, and she lost track of time until the iteration came when she knew that this would be the last, this time Mor'du's jaws would close over her head and crush her skull, and Mother wasn't there to save her, and all time would finally stop, and Merida was consumed by fear—

And then she closed her eyes –

And when she opened them again, she was on a dragon's back. It was night. She was leaning against a bearskin vest, and the wind was cold against her skin. She wanted to wake up – the cold and the wind were trying to wake her up – but it felt so nice, just for once, to lean against another and let them worry about time and how to spend it. Mor'du was nowhere in sight. She was safe.

She closed her eyes –

And when she opened them again, the dragon and rider were lowering her onto enameled tiles, cold against her skin. She tried to focus on the people above her. The air was full of hummingbirds—

"Take care of her, all right? Tell Tooth—"

"Hiccup?" Merida whispered.

Hiccup looked at her, and knelt, cupping her head in his hands. Over his shoulder, Toothless keened slightly. "Merida…"

She had never seen him look like this, never seen him look so heartbroken. His eyes were fixed on her.

"I'm sorry." He laid her head down on the tiles gently, caressing her cheek one last time –

Her eyes fluttered open and shut –

She saw him run to the edge of the platform and hop on Toothless, and they took off… But that wasn't right, that couldn't be, because Toothless had…

She opened her eyes.

She was lying on a bed, under a comforter stuffed with feathers. She was staring at the clock that was set into the ceiling. It was a clock of Toothiana's own invention and design, and Merida had never learned to read it. It was a vast circle, its circumference the width of Merida's extended arms, and the colors and symbols on it were as bright as jewels. They made her head ache.

It sounded like a bizarre heartbeat, grinding out seconds, then minutes. Its chimes and ticks and tocks went well with the constant fluttering noises of the thousands of fairies in the great palace of Toothiana. Merida focused on that, focusing herself to count the seconds, one by one, until her mind was clear and she was certain that time was flowing just as it should. Only then could she turn her head to the right, to where Rapunzel and Toothiana were bent over her, anxious and worrying. They were full of words – assurances that she would be all right, that all was fine, that she was safe – but that wasn't what she wanted to hear.

She turned her head to the left, and saw Bunnymund leaning against a pillar.

"What happened?" she asked him.

He gave her a long, considering look. Then, sighing, he stepped towards her. His massive furred feet stepped in time with the clock of the ceiling. Toothiana was saying something about Merida not being ready, but Bunnymund raised one hand. "She's a warrior. And she's ready when she hears it."

"When I hear what?" Merida struggled to sit up. She couldn't remember having ever felt so exhausted. Her throat felt raw – how much had she screamed yesterday?

Bunnymund sat next to her and looked her steadily in the eyes. And he told her.

She had been captured by Pitch on the "Rescue Toothless" mission – which had failed. She had been held captive for a day before Hiccup ventured into Pitch's realm alone. During that time, Pitch had tortured her by forcing her to live through her worst memory, over and over, and when Hiccup arrived, he had been forced to watch. He had eventually begged Pitch to stop, saying, "I'll do anything."

Pitch had accepted this extremely vague promise. Merida was freed, on the condition that Hiccup join Toothless in Pitch' s service. He had joined his Night Fury to make one last flight under his own free will: to return Merida to the Tooth Fairy's palace, where she would be safe. And then, he had departed.

The clock ticked, and ticked, and ticked out the minutes. Merida stared ahead, even when Bunnymund moved away, until she heard someone say, "I told you she wasn't ready."

Merida's head snapped around. "Not ready?" She didn't absorb the looks of surprise she won; she just slid off of the bed and threw off the stifling comforter. She put her feet on the floor and stumbled, her head spinning. She bat aside the first hands that flew to help her, saying, "Leave me be – leave me be." Something in her tone made them actually stand back as she struggled to stand on her own feet. Her anger was running white-hot in her veins, boiling away everything else – her exhaustion, her raw throat, the sheer impossibility of storming Pitch's lair by herself – she was too full of anger, anger at Pitch and at Hiccup and at Bunnymund and at everyone in that palace, fairies included. And she welcomed the wrath – as long as she was angry, she couldn't be afraid, and she couldn't be sad.

She jumped when Bunnymund said her name, and nearly struck him, but he caught her hand in one paw.

"You listen to me, Merida – yes, I said listen – I know you're mad, I see it in every inch of your frame. And that's good – your passion is your greatest weapon. But you can't let it control you, see? Put it away – for now – just lock it up inside. You need to eat, you need to rest, we need to form a plan of attack. No warrior ever lasted in a battle who let their rage consume them. When the time comes, unleash hell on Pitch with my blessing. But until then, you won't be ruled by your anger – you control it yourself. Do you understand? I said, do you understand?"

Merida shook her head, because the time was getting away from her now – every minute that she waited was another minute that Hiccup fell deeper into Pitch's thrall and she couldn't let that, she couldn't – couldn't – lose him – nobody stole from Merida of DunBroch; Merida daughter of Elinor never, ever lost –

And now the worst of it, everyone was staring at her as if she were the monster, liable to explode at any minute. But the wrath was draining away now, as reality and normal time set in. And this was a nightmare, wasn't it? The way that time kept slowing down and speeding up, wasn't it a nightmare?

She looked up at the clock again. It was ticking out the seconds, regular and even and steady. Time was flowing just as it should.

It was no nightmare. Hiccup was truly gone.

Merida curled up on herself, covered her face with her hands, and wept.