CHAPTER 45

The walls of the castle seemed to close in around them. Merida lead the way, crouched low out of caution, one had pressed close to the cool stones. Thyra held onto her furs, her eyes too clouded in the low light, the other two women taking up their backs. Until Ysra joined her side. 

"This is too easy," she said, fear evident in her voice.

"Maybe so, but who would they think would want to sneak into this wing now? They've killed or captured all of us. They think I'm in Kattegat. This far North, Wessex has no opposition," Merida said, she held her hand up so they would stop behind her. "Besides, they're spread thin. It's a large castle."

Ysra levelled her with a look she did not like. "This isn't your fault, you know."

Merida ignored her. "I should have been here."

"And what could one Princess do against an army that her father could not?"

Merida had no answer. 

They pushed on. Between her mother's room and her own, there was not much distance. Like the rest of the castle, the corridor was not well guarded. At the door, stood two men in red. Merida spotted them first, ordering the rest of the women back as she placed her back to the wall. 

Sif caught her by the wrist. 

"You take one, I'll take the other," she said, giving Merida a moment to consider. "Less noise, less risk."

Merida nodded once and they lept forward around the corner. At the same time as Sif swept her leg at the feet of the closest guard, Merida took the shoulders of the other man between two hands, forcing him back against her chest. There could be no witnesses. She pulled out her knife- the one Bjorn had given her- and plunged it beneath his chin. 

They waited a moment, breaths held, ensuring no one had heard, and then Merida pushed through the door, breaking the lock with a kick of her foot and the push of Sif's wide shoulders. For a moment, her eyes searched a dark room, seeing nothing. Then her gaze fell on something- like a skeleton in a chair. 

The woman was older, her hair speckled with streaks of grey like the rows of silt in a frozen lake and her face deepened with a frown that seemed to be made permanent by the carved wrinkles around her lips. But Merida knew her. She knew her by the quiet solemness of her eyes, the relentless sternness of her brow, and the straight, prideful way she held herself, even with her world crumbling around her.  

"Spirits save me."

The woman flew to her feet, not recognising them, it seemed, as she stumbled backwards, holding her hand to her chest. 

"Mother."

The Queen shook her head, eyes glazed as if seeing a ghost. "No, you fool me."

"Mother, it's me."

Elinor quietened, stepping forward from the shadow to stare at her face. The delirium was gone, the hopeless pessimism receding, and where disbelief had lain upon her face moments before, the Queen's face widened with hope. Her mother shook, placing one foot in front of the other until she stood in front of her, head bowed so she could take in each inch of her face. 

"Merida?" Elinor reached forward to place a hand on her daughter's cheek. "Merida? It's truly you?" 

With her hands covering each side of her face, the Queen finally seemed sure. "Oh, my daughter."

Merida let out a choked sob. "I never should have left."

"It's done now, my darling." Elinor placed her head against her daughter's, closing her eyes. "If anything I'm thankful you were not here. Your father..."

"I know," Merida said, shaking her head so her mother would not have to speak it aloud. "I know."

Elinor closed her eyes but did not remove her hand from her face. It was as if she was scared that should she let go, Merida would disappear. 

"They came in the night. He'd barely had time to pick up a sword, let alone put on armour," she said, lip trembling. "He fought until the bitter end. He was covering me when they stuck a sword through his chest."

"The boys..."

"They're alive." The Queen's eyes were as hard as steel. "He keeps them in the dungeons."

"He?"

"I know not his name, only who he speaks for."

"King Ecbert." Merida spat the name, not wishing it to be on her lips too long. 

The Queen nodded solemnly, glancing once at the women behind her before placing her full attention on her daughter again. 

"I cannot help but wish you had not come here," she said, voice small. "I fear what might come because I can see it clearly."

"What could you fear more than what has already happened?"

"He's to marry me. Ecbert. But should he get his hands on you, it'll be you in the marriage bed, giving him children of his name who would be heir to our Kingdom," her mother spat the words out like they were venom against her tongue. Her hand gripped her chest, her heart, as if in pain. "You need to leave us, Merida. That cannot happen."

There were tears in her eyes. "I cannot leave you, I cannot leave Father to rot in the hall while they laugh at his memory."

"But you must. You must, my darling," she said, shaking Merida's head as if to make the sense fall into her. "Go to your Northman, leave us behind."

"Mother." Merida placed a hand each on her wrists. "The boats don't come to us until Spring."

Then her mother sobbed. It was a deep, shoulder-shaking cry that left Merida feeling hollow. The lingering spark of hope that had once lit the room had vanished, and the shadows seemed to seep in, more pronounced and dangerous. The darkness made her mother's face look sunken. 

"It's okay. We'll figure this out."

When she looked up at her friends, they didn't seem confident. But Sif nodded in encouragement, and Merida took her mother around the shoulders, tucking her into her chest. The tight hold stopped the Queen's shaking, but it was for herself that the benefits were felt. Merida closed her eyes momentarily, letting the fact that she was finally with her mother sink in. Before she could think of her father, she pulled away. 

"We have allies, the Lords-"

And just as quickly as she had fallen apart, Elinor was pulling herself together again. "Who do you think helped them, sweet girl? Dingwall lead them straight through the fight."

Only then, did it finally make sense. Ecbert's forces never would have breached the impenetrable walls of DUnbroch had he not had help. 

"This is my fault, if I'd just married him like I was supposed to." Merida stepped back and Elinor followed. 

"No, Merida, no, please don't blame yourself," she said, and finally, with a voice so low and smooth, she finally sounded like her mother again. "This was a long time coming."

There was something else behind her words, something long left brewing in her thoughts. Something Merida had never been told but was now old enough to know. The Queen didn't divulge. 

"MacGuffin may hear your offer. He's remained neutral since the beginning."

"Then that is where we'll begin."

West, towards MacGuffin's lands. They lay low, thickly wooded and well-populated, with a fortress on a peak that overlooked it all.  She'd stayed there often as a child. The young lord Malcolm had been too old for her then to converse with, and otherwise, he had been ward to the clans far in the North, where her father's boundaries had never dared reach. 

"Wait. I have something your father wanted you to have."

Her heart stuttered at the sight of what her mother pulled from the chest beneath the bed. When she finally breathed again, she could see her hot breath mingle with the cool air. 

"His furs."

Her mother placed the garment into her arms, brushing her own hands against the fur, swallowing back her sadness. It was a regal thing, to wrap the Bear King's furs around her shoulders, feeling its weight upon her back. A weight that would be so hard to carry, knowing who came before her. But she straightened her back, spreading out her shoulders. 

"They were always going to be yours."

Merida smiled softly and before her mother could cry, she said, "I won't let them get away with this."

"I know, my daughter. Be careful."

Sorry for the wait, the weeks have been going so quickly at the moment that I got lost on what I'd updated and when. Also, if the tone of this chapter feels a little off it's because I've been writing a ton for Game of Thrones and my writing tends to be a bit more, well more (idk how to describe the difference)