Chapter four

Merida sat at the table, surrounded by the lords and their sons. She felt out of place. While they spoke of the adventures they had experienced, she was lost for words. She had never been allowed to go off on her own often. The most she had done was learn to shoot an arrow and climb the Devil's peak. Though they were noble conquests, it was a minor tale in comparison to the legends that surrounded her.

As she sat and listened politely, her mother's words rang through her mind.  "A princess shouldn't have a weapon." "A lady shouldn't stuff her gob." "Remember to smile." They should be simple, and yet they were exhausting. She took small bites of her food, in fears of bursting her dress or filling her mouth too full, though it was hard to eat when she could barely even breath.

"King Fergus!"

Merida was brought from her trance as a young messenger appeared at her father's side, his squeaky and anxious voice meeting her ears. His hands shook slightly as the wrung them together.

"What is it, wee lad?" The King asked pleasantly.

The boy leaned in slightly to talk in a hushed tone, in words he had been exactly told to say. "There are men in the forest, half an hours walk from the castle. They're armed and show no identification on their weapon art or armour."

"The commander asks for your orders." He added, as Fergus sat pensive.

"My daughter is to be married soon." He stated firstly.

"They've not even competed yet, father."

"Send some men on horses. See what they want. Then inform me." He nodded, before turning to the boy and giving him the orders.

"Who do you think they are? Father?" Merida asked, her face etching with worry. The King's eyebrows were furrowed as he thought, before shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't know." He said honestly. "Lords, we ask, do you have any stragglers?"

"No, my King, all our men are here."

"Foreigners?" Merida whispered, her heartbeat racing at the thought of an army of men at their borders. The selfish thought of adventure.

"Don't you worry Merida, we'll wait for news."

Wait for news, is what they did. Both sat impatiently, legs bobbing up and down as they faintly listened to the conversations that floated across the Lords' table. Merida perked you as she saw her fathers eyes widen and lighten, hearing footsteps from behind her seat.

"Your highness!" The same young boy said, his voice discreet still, though the Lords seemed uninterested. "They're northmen that speak are language."

"They wish to speak to your council."

"Northmen, you can understand them?" He sat straight in his chair, his hands reaching to tub through his own scruffy beard.

"Father?" Merida asked in a voice no louder than a whisper. "The men from the legend?"

"Perhaps, Merida." He breathed out, before ordering. "Allow their leaders in, the rest wait outside the castle walls, guarded."

"How many?" He asked lastly.

"Thirty. Men and women."

"Bring them in, I'll prepare the Lords." He said, while running a hand across his face.

King Fergus sighed as he turned to the men at the table. They were nosy and had already faced him in both curiosity and concern.

"My Lords." He started, to gain their attention that was already there. "It seems we have guests that seek my audience."

"Who are they, if I may ask?" Macguffin asked, and they all nodded, eager to know.

"Northmen." Her father said plainly, as he stared in thought toward the end of the table.

A murmur began to hum across the table as the news travelled town the line and to the very last of each clan's men. The discussions grew louder and louder until they were shouts of outrage.

"They are guarded heavily, and outnumbered." King Fergus attempted to calm them.

Before he could say a word more, they were silenced by the clanging of the door as it was forced open. The same messenger boy hurried in, his face flushed and sweat glistening across his brow. Not even moments after the boy's arrival, guards flooded into the main hall, flocked in a circular shape, herding the northmen like sheep.

While perched on his throne, King Fergus was an intimidating figure, with his hawk-like gaze and stature that could easily rival even the largest of bears. The entirety of the hall was silent. Even her three brothers remained quiet as they waited on the edge of their seats, just to hear their father speak.

Unlike everyone else, Merida knew there would be no punishment for the strange foreigners on her father's hands. He was too curious and too aware of strength for that to ever happen, despite what legend may say.

"I hear you are a group of Northmen looking for my council?" Her father questioned and Merida smiled at the surprised reactions to the King's civil behaviour.

"It is an honour to stand in front of the Bear King himself." The guards finally parted as a result of her father's request.

They left a clear gap, the width of the line of thrones in the middle of hall. There was a distinct sense of positioning within the small huddle, as one man stood at the front of the group, the rest falling behind him. As Merida's squinted eyes fell upon the Northmen, she struggled to hold in a gasp.

The man stood firmly in the middle of the vast hall without a single flinch of fear. His confidence radiated him, bouncing from the men and women that stood equally as tall as him. She could feel his piercing blue eyes as they scanned the line of her family, until they stopped in her, the corners of his lips twitching upward slightly.

It was the same man from the forest. The same strange person who had lurked among the trees, startling her as she rode Angus and shot her arrows, before disappearing altogether. The Northman had seen her in the woods. But if they had come to Dunbroch as a threat, as everyone imagined her, then why hadn't they attacked her there and then?

"So you have heard of me?" King Fergus asked finally, and the Northman smirked playfully, though without menace.

"But you have not heard of me?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Her father said, though to Merida it was clear that he had. It was then that the clans had started to mutter, but he had squashed the whispers quietly with a motioning of his large hands. "Introduce yourself and your reason of being here."

"I am Ragnar Lothbrok of Norway." The Northman began, and Merida could see her father's eyes light up in recognition. "We are here to take part in your competition."

As familiar as the man's name had sounded, the reason for it couldn't surface to Merida's mind. In her kingdom, stories of far away lands were barely ever told, unless they were legends of their own soldiers battling for riches and honour.

"For my own daughter's betrothal?" King Fergus called out in questioning, and was firstly answered with a smile .
"What makes you think I will say yes?"

"Saying yes will have far more benefits than saying no, King Fergus. We have already raided England." Ragnar began saying. He started to step forward slowly, before being threatened backward by guards. "That is how I came to know of your kingdom."

"Think of the benefits, husband." Merida could hear her mother muttering to her father. She was surprised, to say the least, by her boldness. "They can travel far."

"And it is you who wants to compete?" Her father asked him.

"I wish to put my son, as a participant in the competition." Ragnar replied.

"Step forward, son of Ragnar."

"Bjorn Ironside. My eldest son." The Northmen parted sideways as Ragnar motioned the attention toward his son.

The man stepped forward with a strong and meaningful stride, placing himself in centre focus with ease, despite probably being close to Merida's age. His face was structured and fierce, while still being youthful and his eyes were bright blue, just like his father's.

All Merida could think about, was how he was definitely not like the boys in Dunbroch. Her father was clearly impressed, too.

"Now, why don't we show these foreign men how Dunbroch feasts?" He shouted, though it was met by an unsure and unenthusiastic response.

Merida watched speechless as a new table was swiftly brought to side her own and the Northmen joined the lords to eat.

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