Merida's Macintosh

“Enough, Merida! The only way you and your brothers live out this day is if you relinquish your crown!”

This almost 5,000 word madness spawned.

On AO3 and FF.Net

The steady hand with which he led his horse lay at complete odds with his fuming temper. The lass might be queen of every tree and toadstool for miles around, but she were the most infuriating, stubborn, loud-mouthed hen he’s ever had the displeasure of crossing a blade with.

Macintosh fumed, guiding his horse down the rocky trail. Her Royal Pain-in-the-Arse insisted on this spying nonsense - pay no mind to the truths that she had watchers for that sort of thing. Dunbroch’s borders with Camelot were well-secured. Nay, Queen High-and-Mighty wanted the job done herself. She hardly said the word afore she marched her royal arse down to the stables, a bow in her hand and a quiver slung across her back. And Macintosh, he’d seen enough of the madness spewed by the King of Camelot to know he’d best accompany her - much to the queen’s annoyance.

Oh, aye, he knew the queen had little fondness of him. But he, being the most accomplished of her vassals, made the most sense to watch her back, bring her home. He’d already accepted her as his Queen, he was damn sure he’d fulfill his duties to her. And that meant he wasna about to let her die from her own stubborn foolishness.

They’d split up after another argument - at this point he couldna remember what it had been about. They’d bickered about his presence on the ride to the border. Then there’d been a nasty bit about his lack of proper protection. Then some quibble o'er her skirts in a saddle. After that, it got muddled - travel at night, mayhaps? He’d had enough, declared his desire to make the work of checking the border come to completion faster, and took a different fork in the trail.

No too far, though. He had to be within hearing of a distress call.

He couldna imagine Queen Merida calling out in distress.

@pallythesecond: Prompt: Macintosh traveling to storybrooke to find Merida

A/N: This is a delightful prompt and frankly I’ve never been more excited. Thanks :D ALSO IT IS LONG AND I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS PROMPT. Also I hope me trying to write Scottish accents isn’t too painful to read.

Also @sistercanaries

Word count: 2500

- -

The Price of Magic

- -

Merida sat in the woods outside Storybrooke, it was the only place she could find some small comfort in a town full of strangers. She’d been hiding from the Dark Ones and desperately trying to think of a way back home. Her memories were back, she didn’t know how or why, but they were and the pain that came back with them was just as real. She had been Queen. The clans had rallied behind her. Then, like a fool, she’d run off to get justice for her father and now she was trapped far from home with no way yet to return.

“Alrigh’, there’s no point in feelin’ sorry for yourself.” She murmured, picking up her bow and turning towards town. She’d track down one of those damned Dark Ones and she’d make them take her home. To her family. To her Kingdom. She thought about the clans, wondering if they’d lost faith, if her family was okay.

“If ye’re no’ fit to lead the clans, no one is.” She was surprised to find herself remembering Macintosh’s words. He who had lead the rebellion against, had lead the cheer in her honor.

There was an unnamed feeling roiling in her stomach, hoping that he stayed true to that. Hoping that he’d protect her family. That last thought frightened her. Trusting the man who once tried to kill her brothers was not something she was very comfortable with.

The town was eerily quiet, Merida was not used to quiet, the castle of DunBroch was always loud, always lively, and she missed it.

“Merida?” Came a surprised voice.

But Merida, stretched to the end, had her arrow aimed at the owner of the voice before it had registered in her mind who it was.

“Belle?” Merida said, arrow lowering somewhat.

“Yes, it’s me.” Belle said, her hands raised, “It’s okay, you can lower the bow.”

“I’m sorry Belle, it’s been–let’s jus’ say, I’m glad I didnae hurt ye, before.” She said, dropping the bow and putting the arrow back in the quiver. “Ye know, when I was a bear.”

Belle smiled, “It’s okay, you were under Emma’s control.”

“Do ye know where she is?” Merida said, stepping towards Belle in earnest, “I need her t’ get me home, I have t’ get back to my Kingdom.”

Belle looked stricken for a moment, “She’s not here, she went–well, she went to save someone.” Then seeing the tears spring into Merida’s eyes, she quickly added, “But maybe I can help you.”

“Please, Belle, I must get home.” Merida said.

“Come inside the shop, Merida, we’ll see what I can do.”

- -

It had been days of searching, scouring for a way to magically transport the Queen back to DunBroch, but so far there wasn’t anything to do it. Not without magic beans, which they were currently without. They were holed up in the library, books piled around them.

“This cannae be impossible, Belle, there has t’ be some way.”

“I’m sure there is, we can’t give up–,” Belle cut off at the sound of shouting and crashing from outside, “What was that?”

Merida already had her bow in her hand and looked ready for a fight. “Din’know, but we’re going t’ find out.”

The women were at the door, peering out into the street, as another dwarf came crashing through Granny’s window, joining the one already outside. Merida notched an arrow to her bow and pulled it back, then stepped out, heading for the scene.

“Where is she? Where ye keepin’ her?” Shouted a voice from inside Granny’s.

“Stay behind me Belle,” She whispered, then threw herself in front of the broken front window and said, “Oi! Make one more move, ye great dumb oaf, and I’ll loose this arrow int’ yer gullet, and three more before ye have a chance t’ try again!”

The man turned, a whirl of fur and tartan, and immediately dropped to his knee, “My queen.”

Merida faltered, unable to believe her eyes, “Macintosh?”

@pallythesecond:  How about Merida and Macintosh are stuck in Storybrooke and they get jobs and adjust to our world. Also Merida (and the rest of the women of Storybrooke) loves the fact that Mac traded in his kilt for jeans. lol

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this one! Hope you like it :) @sistercanaries

- -

Blue Jeans

- -

Being stuck in Storybrooke for spirit’s only know how long had its advantages. Merida was enjoying indoor plumbing especially, and some of the food–like pizza, gods she really liked pizza–and the fact that girls got to wear trousers and boots over dressers was something she was also immensely happy about. It certainly made her job at the stables easier, tending to the horses in jeans rather than a skirt. Macintosh however, seemed to be having a bit more trouble adapting to the modern ways of Storybrooke. He had this far refused to don anything other than his kilt and cloak, and often pointed his sword and modern technologies like microwaves. Although he had a way with the horses, and that seemed to keep most people from wanting to have him arrested for being a belligerent ass.

Finally, one night in the hallway at Granny’s Merida had had enough.

“Ye look like a damn fool, Mac.” Merida said, “I know ye’re proud of where we’re from but ye cannae go around hackin’ televisions in half.”

“That–that thing is possessed!” Macintosh said, striking a defensive pose. “And why are ye so comfortable walkin’ around in trousers like some man and–,”

“Oi, t'is perfectly acceptable for me t’ wear this in Storybrooke, and I’ll be damned if I let ye mouth off t’ me about it. Ye could try t’ wear a pair of jeans jus’ once. Ye have t’ learn t’ adapt, we could be here for awhile, and there’s no harm in fittin’ in.” Merida said poking his chest.

“I’m no’ stayin’ here any longer than I have t’.” Macintosh said stubbornly.

“And neither am I!” Merida said, crossing her arms over her chest, “but walking around in the one dress I have and ignorin’ all the things that can make our time a bit easier while we’re here is mad.”

“I’m no’ takin’ off me kilt.” Macintosh said.

“How d'ye know ye won’t like it if ye dinnae try it?” She said.

“Ye sound like my mother.” Macintosh scoffed.

“Good! That should let ye know how childish ye’re bein’.” Merida said in a waspish tone.

Macintosh humphed and walked into his room, leaving Merida to roll her eyes at his retreating back. The next morning however, she was surprised to find Macintosh looking sheepish outside her door.

“Aye, Mac?” Merida asked in an innocent voice, quirking an eyebrow.

Macintosh heaved a sigh, like what he was about to say was an enormous burden, “I was… I was hopin’ ye could…”

“Go on.” Merida prompted, grinning widely now.

Macintosh glowered at her, and said through gritted teeth, “Take me t’ a tailor whatever t'is they have in this gods forsaken land.”

Merida had to hold back a snort of laughter, “Aye, that I can do.”

There’s not much in the way of a mall in Storybrooke but there are a few private clothing stores and Macintosh begrudgingly allowed himself to be dragged to the men’s store and stuffed inside. The girl behind the counter took one look at Macintosh and her mouth fell open a little bit.

“Hi,” she said in a squeak, “h-how can I help you?”

“We need clothes.” Merida said, “and we need jus’ about everythin’. Shirts, jeans, socks, jackets, the lot.”

The girl, whose name tag said Ashley, looked like she’d just been told Christmas had come early. “Absolutely!”

Macintosh looked like he was regretting this decision more and more each second.

Twenty minutes later, and what seemed like to Macintosh some very invasive measuring, there was a pile of clothes inside a dressing room and he was forced inside.

“Ye dinnae need any help figurin’ it out do ye?” Merida joked from the outside, “Ye can put trousers on cannae no’?”

“Aye I think I can manage it.” Macintosh said dryly.

“Too bad.” Ashley said to Merida.

“You’re married, Ashley.” Said a voice from behind the two girls. They turned to look an saw Belle. “Marco ripped his jacket doing some work for me at the library. Thought I’d buy him a new one.”

“Oh, sure, I think I know one he’d like.” Ashley moved to show Belle a selection of coats on the other side of the store.

“Alrigh’ I’m comin’ out.” Macintosh said, swinging the door open, “And I feel stupid.”

Macintosh was wearing low-slung blue jeans, and a black t-shirt that left very little to the imagination as far as his well sculpted muscles went. Merida sucked in air at the sight of him, with his wavy brown hair and blue war paint, he was certainly a sight to behold. He cocked his head at her, trying to gauge her expression and she felt her skin flush.

“Wow…” Said Ashley, sounding a little breathless, walking back over to them with Belle. Belle it appeared was speechless.

“So?” Macintosh said, but he was staring at Merida a small grin slowly growing on his face, his eyes darkening ever so slightly.

“Eh, er…” Merida said, then cleared her throat awkwardly, “I mean–ye look… fine.”

“Fine?” He said, raising an eyebrow. “Just… fine?”

“Erm… aye…” Merida said, turning away from him to some of the other clothes they had picked out. She grabbed some things, barely paying attention to what she was doing, dumped them in his arms and shoved him back into the dressing room.

“Mother o’ god.” Merida breathed when he was out of sight. Belle put a sympathetic hand on Merida’s shoulder.

“Good luck.” Belle said.

“Bless you for bringing him to this store.” Ashley whispered.

“I’m glad ye are enjoyin’ yerself, ‘cause I’m fairly certain I’ve made a mistake.” Merida murmured.

@pallythesecond: Idea for quick prompt came to mind. Merintosh’s son fall in love with a girl that wants nothing to do with him or marriage. Like father, like son. 

A/N: THIS WAS SO CUTE THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT. @sistercanaries

- -

Like Father Like Son

- -

Fergus was up in the tallest tower when Merida finally found him. She let out a sigh of relief when she heard his voice and almost banged through the door to demand why he’d run off and hid and left them all worried when she heard Macintosh’s voice and paused.

“Ah, laddie… Ye had yer mother mighty worried.” Macintosh said and Merida peaked inside, gazing at her husband and young son sitting at the balcony of the high tower, feet dangling off the edge. Macintosh had his arm around their red-headed son’s shoulders. Fergus was very small for a seven-year-old and Merida could hear a clear pout in his voice when he spoke.

“Does love get any easier dad?” Fergus asked.

Merida had a hard time stifling a laugh at that.

“No, son, it dosnae get any easier.” Macintosh said, sounding like he too was having trouble controlling his tone.

“How did ye get mum t’ love ye?” Fergus asked as if this were the most important question he’d ever ask.

There was a pause, and Merida could imagine her husband’s smile. “I dinnae lad, no one can make any one else love them. Certainly not yer mother.”

“But–,” Fergus protested, “Ye and mum always talk about how ye dinnae like each other at first!”

“Aye, that’s true.” Macintosh said, “What’s this about Fergus? Has someone turned ye head?”

“Her name is Keira.” Fergus mumbled, “And she says she dosnae want anything t’ do with me.”

Macintosh managed to turn a huff of laughter into a cough. “Ah son, I’m familiar with that feelin’.”

“But why dad? I thought when ye fell in love ye were supposed t’ get married and be–ye'know together!” Merida could picture her small son’s confused face and felt a wave of sympathy for him.

“I’m sorry…” Macintosh said and Merida said him squeeze the lad closer, “T'is no’ that simple I’m afraid.”

“How did ye and mum fall in love?” Fergus asked.

Merida smiled, and could only imagine Macintosh doing the same. “It took time laddie. When we we’re young we jus’ shy of loathed each other. I had no respect and well–yer mother will tell ye herself she liked to rise t’ any challenge whether or no’ there was one t’ begin with.” Merida had to agree with that, she hadn’t changed much either. “But yer mother wouldnae give up, she won the heart of her people, includin’ mine. And we were friends after that, for a long time.”

“What if–,” the boy said, his voice thoughtful, “what if mom hadnae loved ye back, dad? What if she dinnae want to marry ye as ye did her?”

“Then I would’ve been her friend.” Macintosh said gently, “She was my Queen before she was my love, lad. I’d have been her advisor and sword as long as she’d have me. Mind ye, I’m mighty glad she does love me, for gods only know why. She’s been the best part of me for a very long time, and given me ye and yer sister. I’m sorry that the lassie ye fancy dosnae fancy ye back.”

“That’s alrigh’ dad. We’ll jus’ be friends, like ye and mum.” Fergus said.

“Aye, and who knows, maybe someday ye’ll find someone who fancies ye in return. T'is a good feelin’, and t'is worth waitin’ for.” Macintosh said.

Part 2 of my practice writing kisses! I absolutely, completely LOVE writing about these two when they’re angry at each other and this was ridiculously fun. T rating on this one? IDK how rating systems work lol.

Enjoy the kisses, my lovely clanmates!  *throws glitter*

2.

Read on AO3

The days Merida is required to conduct full court sessions are trying, to say the least. That is when she ends up channeling every single anger management technique her mother has taught her into the span of two hours. Her temper is normally fine for the first while, but eventually she can feel the ends of her patience begin fraying, slowly but surely. And that’s on a good day.

Today is far, far from good.

A/N: I saw this and literally all I could think of was Merintosh. The struggle with these two is REAL. IN WHICH I CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF THESE TWO IDIOTS AND WILL USE ANY PROMPT I CAN FIND TO WRITE FLUFF. Enjoy.

Also @sistercanaries

- -

Don’t Hold Me Back

- -

The day had been a cold one, a rare snow had begun to fall down on the lands of DunBroch, and its Queen was out riding with a scouting party. Merida, leaders of the Clans, preferred to be apart of any scouting expeditions she could. She was an active leader, not one to be forced indoors and the clans respected her all the more for it. Their fierce redheaded Queen was as wild and unruly as the Highlands themselves.

“Any sign of trouble, Dingwall?” Merida said to one of scouting party. “How’re the southern borders lookin’?”

“No’ a sign of trouble in sight, mi’lady.” He replied, as he rode over to her.

Angus shifted from underneath her, stomping and pawing at the freshly fallen snow, “Has anyone heard from Macintosh yet? He’s the last t’ check in.”

“No’ yet, yer majesty.” MacGuffin said from her left.

Merida refused to allow herself to look worried. But she was, she worried about all her most trusted men when they went out on these excursions. But Macintosh was fully capable of taking care of himself and she knew that.

“Alrigh’ then, prepare t’ break camp, as soon as Macintosh arrives–,”

“No need t’ wait on my account.” Came Macintosh’s smug voice as he rode up to the camp.

Merida rolled her eyes, “Ye were supposed t’ check in before the sun set, Mac.”

“Aye, and I’m a wee bit late.” He said with a bow of his head, and then in a tone that didn’t sound the least bit sorry, he continued, “My apologies yer majesty.”

“Alrigh’ lads, break camp, we’ll be home before the moon is fully risen.”

“Aye!” They all shouted, moving towards there duties.

Macintosh sidled his horse up next to Angus, “Ye were’nae worried about me, were ye lassie?”

“A fine way t’ address yer Queen, Laird Macintosh.” Merida growled.

“Ye’re on edge, what troubles ye?” Mac asked, reaching out to put a hand on her cloaked shoulder.

“MacArthur is staying at the castle tonight.” Merida reminded him. MacArthur had been her father’s biggest naysayer when he’d lead the clans, and he was turning out to be her’s as well. He had a small amount of influence, so he wasn’t a real opponent, but he was a significant thorn in her side.

“Ahh.” Macintosh said, “I promise t’ hold ye back when he runs his mouth.”

“Mmm, ye might have t’.” Merida nodded in agreement.

- -

The great hall was still bustling with life as the scouting party wandered in, full of family and friends. Merida always welcomed the families of those she worked with closely to stay in the castle, and may liked to stay awake for their lads to return whenever they were sent out on duties.

Merida was greeted by her mother and brothers as she entered, smiling broadly at the resounding cheer. She kissed each of them in turn, then took the mug of ale passed to her by Wee Dingwall.

“Well, t’is the wee Queen, joining us at last!” MacArthur’s voice cut through the crowd. Merida turned to him glaring. “Long live the Queen!”

The tone was sarcastic, and he turned back to his mug, burying his great black beard in it. Merida would’ve liked nothing more than to break it over his head, but she resisted.

“Always a pleasure, MacArthur.” Merida said, squaring her shoulders, “I’m looking forward t’ hearing yer opinions on the pushing the western borders in the meetin’ tomorrow, as I’m sure they’re many.”

“Merida…” Macintosh murmured from behind her, “Careful now…”

“Aye, I that I do.” MacArthur said standing to his feet and swaying slightly, “As the plans affect my lands. As I’m sure ye’ve got as many plans on runnin’ away.”

Merida lunged forward, but Macintosh had grabbed the hood of her cloak, jerking her backwards slightly. “He’s not worth it, yer majesty.”

“T’is no’ runnin’ away, MacArthur. T’is wisdom, keepin’ our people safe and no’ riskin’ open war by pushin’ our boundaries.”

“Ye’re a righ’ coward, no better than yer yellow-bellied father, the so-called Bear King. I thought when he died we’d be done with hidin’ behind these big stone walls!”

Merida looked up at Macintosh with a burning look. He let go of her cloak, and raised his hands. Merida grinned, handing Macintosh her ale, marched up to MacArthur and punched him square in the nose, took his pewter mug and smacked him across the head with it.

“No one, and I mean no one dare ever again t’ disgrace my dad in front of me.” Merida said. “Someone take this trash from my sight.”

Dingwall and McGuffin pulled the unconscious MacArthur from his seat and dragged him out of the great hall.

“That was an impressive hit, mi’lady.” Macintosh said.

“Thanks for no’ holdin’ me back.” Merida replied with a smile.

“Eh, he deserved it.” Macintosh said, handing her back her drink. “Now, come t’ the table so I can drink ye under it.”

“That sounded like a challenge, Mac.” Merida raised her eyebrows.

“Aye, t’was, do ye think ye can match me?” Macintosh said holding up his mug of ale.

I had fluffy Merintosh feels and then this happened.

I don’t even know you guys.

(why am I such a sucker for writing betrothal fics????????)

Edit: I changed the title because I liked this one better. That’s all. 

The Emerald Heart

Read on AO3

There are soft, white snowflakes drifting from the frozen evening sky. It’s a night where the trees seem to shine with thick layers of ice, the snow crunches softly under her boots, and everything is blessedly quiet. 

(A/N) So it was the amazingly awesome Lari (aka @captainswanapproved) birthday last week! Lari I’m so glad to have gotten to know you this year, you are a wonderful person and I’m so grateful for our friendship! Happy belated birthday!!

Summary: After years of pressure from clan elders about an eligible heir, Merida decides to get married in order to hush their grumblings.

(ff.net/ AO3)

Merida smoothed the front of her wedding dress, it was very similar to her usual garb but made with white lace instead of her favored green velvet. Her mother stood behind her, placing the finishing touches on her wild red curls.

“You make a beautiful bride,” Elinor said, looking at her daughter in the mirror, “Are you sure you want to go through with this.”

“It’s what’s best for DunBroch. I am queen now and I need to do what is best for my kingdom and if that means marrying Macintosh than so be it,” Merida squared her shoulders. The marriage wasn’t arranged per se, but with louder and louder grumblings from elder members of the clan about the need for an heir Merida needed to be wed fast. Macintosh seemed the least awful option and he had always respected her father Fergus, Merida told herself. And he had deflated his head a bit since he originally tried winning her hand in that damned tournament her parents held when they were sixteen.

“Well come on, we can’t leave everyone waiting,” Elinor extended her hand to Merida and they walked through the door together to the chapel.

Greeting fellow trashcan denizens!

I’ve started a series of one-shots, which will be completely unrelated, all about Merintosh kisses! This is really for nobody’s benefit but my own, so I can practice getting comfortable writing these scenes (and maybe, possibly, eventually, writing smut. Though that’s a way off). But I suppose y’all can read the little bits I write, so that’s something. 

I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. Here. Read about kissing. There will be more kisses eventually. 

Also, if you have a specific type of kiss/scenario you’d like to see, drop me a prompt.

*throws glitter*

This one’s a little bit feelsy and incredibly cheesy. You’ve been warned. (it is so bad I’m sorry)

1.

Read on AO3

The first time he kisses her, it is late in the evening. There had been a gathering of some sort; neither really remembered what it had been for - truth be told the people of the clans would look for any excuse to get together and drink. Merida and Mac had been circling one another for months now, a continuous game of cat and mouse where one of them would get almost close enough to reach out and the other would withdraw quickly. That night, though, it was different; both had consumed just enough ale to be tiptoeing the line between lowered inhibitions and loosened tongues and sloppiness. 

A/N: This is the first of three Merintosh fics I’ve written on my work breaks over the last weekend, because these two are incredibly easy to write about and vastly becoming a real addiction. @sistercanaries

- -

Dreams

- -

The nightmares started when he realized he was in love with her. Macintosh wasn’t sure when it happened, somewhere between realizing that she was a leader he could follow into darkness and back and spending most of his days as one of her advisers, letting his younger brother care for the lands of clan Macintosh.

It was a small thing when he finally realized he was too far gone, he’d been out training with the other men and she’d come out to observe. The Queen did that a lot, she liked to join in the training when she could, “T’ keep myself sharp, and best no one dare go easy on yer Queen.” Not that any one needed to go easy on her. Merida was a fierce warrior, as good with a sword as she was with her bow and she’d dropped each of the lads on their backsides more than once. This time she’d walked up on Macintosh demonstrating a tricky maneuver to a few of the younger recruits.

“Aye, and then ye put yer foot behind their ankle and–” Macintosh swept his foot behind one of the lads ankle and tripped him to the ground, sword point at the boy’s chest.

“Very impressive Laird Macintosh,” Merida said, clapping along with the small group surrounding him and his student, “But have ye shown them how t’ defend against it?”

“No’ yet, mi'lady.” Macintosh said with a small now of his head, smiling. He knew where this was going.

“Allow yer Queen t’ help ye demonstrate.” Merida said, waving the recruit out of the circle. “Step forward Macintosh, come at me like ye did before.”

Macintosh stepped forward, began to move his foot the way he’d done before, but Merida was ready for him, she’d moved her foot as he swept his and lifted her boot to his diaphragm, giving him a hard kick that sent him sprawling.

There was a loud cheer and some laughter, but Merida raised a hand for silence. “Hold on, lads, hold on. Now, Laird Macintosh, what would ye do if ye found yerself in this position with an enemy?”

Macintosh grinned at the open challenge. Merida swung her sword down like she was going to stick him through with it but Macintosh rolled out of the way, swinging his sword upwards as he got to his feet to block her next blow, he pressed his advantage and got inside her radius and shoved his shoulder into her chest. Merida gave a whoof of air and stumble back, barely parrying his next swing, and in the next twist of his sword, hers had gone flying, his sword was at her throat.

“Do ye yield?” Macintosh said, but Merida was grinning. Quick as a flash Merida ducked underneath his sword, grabbed his hand and before he could defend himself, twisted his own sword out of his hand and flipped him over her shoulder onto his back. She pinned him with her legs and raised his sword.

“Do ye?” She said, cheeky.

“Aye, I yield.” Macintosh said, breathing heavily and trying not to think too hard about Merida being seated on him and they way her eyes were lit as she stared down at him.

There was a resounding cheer and Merida rolled off him, reaching out her hand to help him up. Macintosh graciously allowed her to help him and took his sword back from her. He’d come along way since the days he’d scorned and jeered at the young queen to be. He’d been an arrogant fool then, and he’d said as much to her a few times. To which she usually nodded and said “Aye.”

But when she’d turned to the other fighters, laughing and smiling, he felt his heart stutter in his chest. And he knew, in that moment, he loved her. Gods he loved her. From her stubborn, wild interior to her flaming exterior. He wasn’t sure when it even started, but he knew.

And that’s when the nightmares began. At first, it was just her in the middle of a gaping darkness, and she was lost to him, she reached out and he couldn’t pull her back from the abyss. The first night he had the dream it left him shaking and sweating, unnerved. He’d never dreamed about her before. Not that he could remember at any rate, not like this. The next morning he’d all but forgotten it when he saw her at the council meeting, looking toward him for support on–hell what had they been talking about. She raised her eyebrows in question, and he gave her a small apologetic smile in return. That dream lasted a week.

Then there was an accident on the training ground and the dream changed. Merida had been out with him and the other Lairds and trainees when one of the more inexperienced lads gave her a bloody cut on the forearm. It was a shallow cut, but it had scared the hell out of Macintosh. He turned nearly murderous on the boy when Merida stepped in front of him to calm Macintosh down.

“T'is jus’ a wee accident, Mac, no need for any fuss.” She said. The young man looked stricken at what he’d done to the queen and terrified Macintosh would run him through. “Come help me patch myself up, alrigh’?” Merida said, pulling him to the weapons shed, where they kept bandages and the like for incidents like this, and leaving MacGuffin and Dingwall to deal with the boy.

“Are ye sure yer okay?” Macintosh said gruffly, gently pulling up her sleeve to clean and wrap the cut.

“Aye, t'is a shallow thing, dinnae even need stitchin’.” She said. “Thought you might kill the wee lad for a mo’ there.”

“He injured the Queen.” Macintosh growled.

“Aye, a Queen who likes t’ be a part of trainin’ and battles and by a boy so green he looks fresh cut from the garden. He overstepped, he’s inexperienced, and had I been any other teacher and no’ the Queen, ye would’ve laughed him off and taught him better.” Merida replied, wincing as he knotted the bandage tightly.

“But yer no’. Yer the Queen.” Macintosh reminded her.

His dream that night she’d been hurt again, but so much worse. He couldn’t even tell where the injuries where at their worst because of the blood. She let out a strangled, “Mac?” And he woke up with a start.

Then came the spies and scouts with whispers of a threat. A nameless fear that sought the death of the Highland Queen, leader of the four clans. And to Macintosh’s horror, Merida seemed unperturbed. In fact, she grinned at the mention of an assassin and said, “Let them come. I’d like t’ see any fool come infiltrate this castle with as many good lads as I’ve got with me.”

There was laughter and cheering, Merida had a way of breaking tension and reassuring people. She’d build them up, then give them duties and put them on their guard and they’d follow them to the letter. In many ways, the castle was never safer; but that night, which had been an cold and windy one, Macintosh had his worst nightmare yet.

Merida was laughing, smiling, reaching out to him and a sword, black as obsidian, ran her through. A nameless, hooded figure pulled the sword from her back and melted into the shadows. Merida’s smile twisted, her hand faltered and twitched, and she collapsed. Macintosh ran to her side, scooping her up into his arms.

“No, no, no! Ye cannae leave me, Merida, ye cannae die on me.” He said, cupping her face in one hand and trying to stem the blood pouring from the fatal wound with the other.

“M-Mac…?” She choked, then her eyes fluttered shut.

“N-no, no ye cannae–dinnae leave me here alone, dinnae go…” He whispered into her wild red curls, rocking her lifeless body back and forth.

He shot up, this time tears streaming down his face. He immediately got to his feet, his hands shaking so badly he almost couldn’t wrap his kilt around himself. He didn’t even bother pulling on his boots as he bolted from his chambers, down the hall, up two flights of stairs and just outside her door. He couldn’t bring himself to knock, even though every part of him was screaming to make sure she was okay, she wasn’t hurt. Macintosh let out a sigh, he couldn’t go in. His was wandering around in his kilt and nothing else for gods sake, and he probably looked panicked and frantic. He’d scare the hell out of her if he knocked on her door at this hour, looking as he did. He turned on his heel and began to walk to his room, his heart still thumping wildly in his chest.

There was a creaking noise behind him then–“Macintosh, what’re ye doin’?”

He turned around. Merida stood in the hallway, hair tied loosely back, wearing a night shift and a dressing gown, looking tired but alert. His heart constricted. She was okay. His relief took control of his limbs and in two large strides he closed the distance between them and enveloped her in a hug.

Merida stood there stiff as a board for a moment before she finally, if a bit awkwardly, patted his back gently. “What’s gotten int’ ye, Mac?” She said.

“Forgive me,” Macintosh said, pulling back, “I–I was–,”

“What lad?” Merida prompted, looking surprised and scared. She’d never seen Mac like this before, and it looked as though he’d been crying. Not something she’d ever seen him do before either.

Macintosh gulped, “I’ve been havin’ nightmares about ye… I thought ye were dead–t'was so real I thought–I thought I lost ye.”

Merida, not sure what had come over herself, reached up and touched his face, “I’m alrigh’. Honestly, nothin’s happened t’ me. All’s well.

 Macintosh closed his eyes at her touch, wondering when the last time he had a decent nights sleep. But she was right. She was alright. She was alive.

"Jus’… Jus’ had t’ see for myself.” He mumbled, pulling back, “I’ll go now.”

Merida stopped him by taking his hand, then standing up on her tiptoes she kissed his cheek. “Ye need t’ get some sleep Mac. And that’s a command from yer Queen. If I see ye before midday, I’ll have Guff and Dingwall drag ye back t’ yer room and lock ye in.” She said.

Macintosh smiled at that. “Aye yer majesty, as ye command.”