#merimac angst

[wisps-n-woad]

🏹⚔️🩵🧡💙🤎⚔️🏹

I Chose You

for @bonniebennettstjohn, because a certain show that shall not be named was a giant disappointment and she needs some cheering up. love ya <3

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I Chose You

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This time that weasely scum Arthur wasn’t getting away, there was no where to go and Merida had her bow trained on him.

“Yer gonnae face justice fer what ye’ve done.” She said, as tense and taut as her bowstring.

“I don’t think so.” Arthur said, smug and dismissive.

“Oh?” Merida replied through gritted teeth, “Why is tha’?”

“Because I left your pathetic little errand boy bleeding to death in the river, just south of here.”

Merida’s blood went cold, her heart hammering loudly in her ears.

“Errand boy?” She whispered, Arthur’s face momentarily slipping out of focus. He didn’t… he didn’t follow her…? He wouldn’t, she’d left him strict orders to stay with the men…

“Yes, the big one covered in the ugly blue paint you barbarians wear.” Arthur said, knowing he’d struck a nerve, raising a hand that was smudged with blue. “He caught up with me before you did, and unfortunately I saw him before he saw me.”

“Ye lie!” Merida snapped, but fear was settling over her like ice.

“If I hadn’t stuck him in the gut while his back was turned, he might’ve put up a good fight. He fell into the river. But maybe he drowned,” Arthur shrugged, a horrible smile growing on his face. “Now I’m afraid you have a choice, kill an unarmed man, take me back to your army and let your warrior die, or–” he trailed off.

Or let him go to search for Macintosh. “Ye have no honor.” She hissed, “And ye’ll pay dear fer this!”

She gave him one last murderous look before leaping onto Angus’s back and surging forward into a gallop. He’d told her the river south of them, but if Mac had fell into the water he could be anywhere.

“Mac!” She shouted over the rushing water as they ran alongside it, “MACINTOSH YE BLOODY FOOL, ANSWER YER QUEEN!”

She was feeling frantic now, either Arthur had tricked her or Mac couldn’t answer and–a noise caught her ears, so quiet she almost thought she’d imagined it.

“Mac!” She called again, pulling Angus to a stop and stealing hard to listen.

“Merida?”

There he was, just yards down the river from her, collapsed on a rock sticking out of the water. Merida urged Angus forward, crashing into the water towards him, she wasn’t sure she could get him onto Angus herself if he was too weak to lift himself. He was barely conscious when she reached him, but luckily the water was deep enough Angus’s back wasn’t much higher than the stone and she was able to drag him onto her horse with no little effort, but without his help. Angus struggled against the water toward the shore, his hooves hitting the bank and lifting them out. Angus dropped carefully down onto his knees and Merida slid Macintosh slowly to the ground. He was soaked to the bone with river water, and his side was red with blood, too much blood, the wound gaped angrily. Merida began tearing at her plaid she wore draped around her and began bandaging the wound as best as she could.

“Ye bloody–,” she muttered, “why in hells did ye–”

“Merida…” he choked hoarsely. Merida bite her lip, trying to stay focused on her task. He never called her Merida. He only ever called her Majesty or if he was feeling cross on wanted to annoy her he’d call her “wee lass” or “lassie”.

“Mac, don’t ye dare die on me, tha’s an order!” She growled at him, draping her cloak over him. couldn’t the bloody idiot have worn a shirt?

“Never been–much good–a’ followin’ orders…” Mac whispered, with just a hint of a grin on his lips.

“Aye, I ken.” Merida said, “If ye were, ye wouldnae be half bled and near drowned. Ye’d be with the troops as I told ye!”

Mac opened his mouth to reply but Merida cut him off, “Save yer strength lad. I’ve patched ye up ‘s best I can, but ye need a true healer before ye bleed dry. Think ye’re up for a ride?”

Mac nodded and braced himself on Merida as she helped him onto Angus.

“Ye have t’ stay awake now,” Merida said, climbing onto the horse in front of him. She would’ve preferred to be behind him, holding him up, but she wouldn’t be able to see around his bulky form, so he had to stay awake and hold on to her, “This’ll be the only time I say this t’ ye, but hold on t’ me as tight as ye can, I donnae want ye t’ slid off.”

Mac nodded into her hair, which was unlike him. She’d left him open for a smart reply, but he was clearly feeling to worse to do so. It took much too long to make it back to camp, and she thought she felt him bleed through his bandages, maybe she was over worrying, but he managed to keep his arms around her and upright as they made their way back.

“Queen Merida!” The scout called as they came upon the camp.

“Fetch a healer and some men!” Merida said, “Laird Macintosh is injured, we need help!”

The scout sprang into action, leaving his post and running ahead to do as he was ordered as Merida and Angus kept up their excruciatingly slow pace as to not agitate Mac’s injuries. A handful of men and the healer came rushing forward.

“He’s bin stabbed, I bandaged as best I could, but–,” Merida said as the men cautiously helped bring Macintosh down from Angus’s back and onto the carried him to the healer’s tent, it took four men to cart him there. The healer started shouting instructions to his helpers and bandages. Merida was politely ushered from the room, which annoyed her greatly as she was the Queen and shouldn’t be ushered anywhere. But she did have work to do, and Macintosh was in the hands of the healers. That didn’t stop her from being distracted as men gave their reports and Laird’s asked about her effort to catch Arthur.

“Arthur got away, right now our priority is the injured and protectin’ our borders. When M–when the men are well enough we’ll head to the castle and reevaluate from there.” Merida said.

“Yer Majesty?”

Merida turned and faced the head healer, MacDougal, “Yes?”

“Laird Macintosh has been stitched and bandaged, there’s no sign of infection as yet, and he’s a strong ‘un.”

“He’ll live?” She asked.

“Aye.” The healer nodded, “He’s resting now.”

“Inform me when he wakes.” Merida said.

“Aye, yer Majesty.”

It wasn’t until morning that Macintosh awoke. Merida had spent the night in her tent, sleepless, angry, worried and wrestling with feelings she couldn’t name. Feelings that had been swirling around in her chest for awhile now, and she had no idea what to do about them. Guilt also plagued her, but she wasn’t sure why. She’d let her father’s killer go free, without a second thought. It was the right choice, a choice she knew her father would have made himself. Her people came before her quest for vengeance. But if she were being honest with herself… she hadn’t done it for that reason. She’d done it because it was… it was Mac. She didn’t know what that meant.

“Yer Majesty?” the healer came up to her as she dismissed the captain of the guard from his briefing. “Laird Macintosh is awake, if ye wish t’–,”

Merida didn’t let him finish before brushing past him towards the medic tent, stomping in and spotting Macintosh sitting up slightly in his cot at the far end.

“The healer tells me ye’ll live,” Merida said, walking up to him, “which is a reilef as far as now I get t’ kill ye myself when ye’re full well.”

Macintosh grinned at her, “I look forward t’ it, my Queen.”

“Donnae play me fer a fool, or try t’ butter me up.” Merida said, “I’m still cross with ye fer goin’ against me orders in the first place.”

Macintosh looked down, “The last time ye went after Arthur alone ye ended up in another land, I wasnae about t’ let tha’ happen again.”

Merida scowled at him, “It wasnae up t’ ye, t’was up t’ me as I’m the queen. Ye take yer orders from me, not decidin’ t’ go off and risk yer life–”

“I’m a warrior and yer subject, yer Majesty, t’is my duty to risk my life fer yers.” Macintosh said.

Merida didn’t say anything to that. She’d been thinking a lot about duty lately, and she wasn’t sure where that line blurred now.

“How did ye find me?” Macintosh asked, his voice surprisingly small. Merida looked up at him, taking in his curious expression and intent gaze.

“I–it dosnae matter now, I’m jus’ glad yer alright.” Merida said, trying to keep her voice level and casual.

“I though’ I was good an’ dead… ye were far ahead, tha’ coward took me by surprise… and… but ye called fer me, ye knew t’ look… how?” Macintosh prompted.

Merida let out a sigh, “Arthur told me so.” She said.

Macintosh looked a little startled. Merida didn’t know why, it was the most obvious conclusion, “Arthur…? Ye–ye saw him?”

She didn’t know how much she wanted to tell him, the fact that she’d cornered and nearly captured a sworn enemy of the kingdom and let him go without a second thought… no… she wouldn’t. “When ye’re feelin’ well enough we’re goin’ back t’ the castle.” She said, turning to leave.

“Merida…” Mac said, reaching out and grabbing her hand. “Yer not tellin’ me something…”

Merida looked down at his hand, torn between telling the truth and snapping at him for being informal. “Mac, t’is nothin’ just rest…”

“Tell me the truth. Ye saw Arthur, wha’ happened?” Mac said.

Merida knew she could easily walk away from him, break his weakened grasp and go about her queenly duties, throw up walls and ignore indescribable feelings she’d been struggling with.

“I saw him, an’ he told me wha’ he’d done, so I–” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Did ye let him get away… fer me?” Macintosh said incredulously.

Merida hesitated, then swore at herself internally, she shouldn’t have hesitated but now the answered weighed between them in heavy silence.

Macintosh didn’t seem to want to let it go, however much she wished he would, “Why?” he asked.

Merida’s eyes fluttered shut, “Mac, please…” But Mac didn’t let go of her hand, and she could just feel his eyes on her so she took a deep breath and looked at him. “T’was the righ’ choice… the only choice. Capturing Arthur isnae worth yer life. Arthur has no honor, he’s a bloody coward and he left ye fer dead after guttin’ ye from behind like a sneak thief. He used tha’ against me when he was cornered, he knew I’d never leave ye fer dead.”

Macintosh didn’t say anything for a moment, “He killed yer father Merida…”

“He did? I didnae know.” Merida said, with a wry grin.

“Merida!” Macintosh said, clearly in no mood for their usual banter, “He murdered ye’re father. Ye let him go! Fer–fer–,”

“Fer ye…” Merida said, her voice soft. It was now or never, she moved closer to him, absently adjusting his blanket with one hand, his hand still around her other, “And it’s a choice I’d make a hundred times again… I chose ye, Mac, and I donnae regret it.”

Mac smiled, but it was painful, “I’ve said it before, yer Majesty… but ye sacrifice so much fer yer kingdom… no one would have blamed ye if ye’d brought Arthur back before comin’ fer me. Yer a better ruler than any of us gave ye credit fer.”

This was her out. She could roll her eyes and say that she had been all along, make a joke and move on, but she couldn’t. Mostly because it wasn’t true. Merida was nothing if not an honest person to a fault.

“I didnae do it fer tha’ reason.” Merida said, she gulped hard before continuing “I might’ve done it fer duty if it were anyone else, let him go and gone after them because it was the right thing t’ do… but… tha’s not why I went after ye. If I’m being honest… I didnae give it a second thought.”

Macintosh had an expression on his face that she couldn’t read, but he pulled at her hand with surprising force, cupped her face with his other hand and kissed her. Merida stood stock still at the unexpected gesture, but leaned into him, like her body had known how long she’d been waiting for this before her mind did. God his lips were so soft, but so forceful, and his hands tangled themselves into her hair, while she wrapper her arms around his neck. She’d never imagined kissing him, but if she had, she couldn’t have ever imagined it would have been like this; wonderful and time-stopping and everything she ever wanted. In that moment, Mac was the only real thing in the world to her, and she couldn’t have asked for more. He was alive, and they had a whole lifetime.

[wisps-n-woad]

🥺💔😭

Acute Sadness - Merintosh Fic

I am so sorry about this in advance. 

I have no idea where this came from, and the whole thing took me maybe an hour to write, that’s how formed the story was in my mind. Damn these two Scottish dorks.

Also if you think this sucks to read, just imagine writing it. I really must hate myself a lot.

Here be the angstiest angst ever. I promise I’ll make it up to y’all by writing some fluffy, happy Christmas stuff later tomorrow!

Acute Sadness 

Read on AO3

Her mother had told her, weeks before this point, that the best thing she would ever hear after all the hours of labor, was the sound of her new child crying. So it takes Merida the span of eight heartbeats, full of exhaustion, to realize the room around her is silent.

Keep reading

[wisps-n-woad]

🩵🧡🍻🤎💙

WIP Week - Day 2: Newest WIP

Probably terrible to be posting in the middle of the night…but I didn’t want to be any later in posting for Day 2 (I didn’t even get to do Day 1, so this is a little better!!)…so here’s a fragment of the beginning of my newest WIP. It’s Merintosh and it’s an modern AU set in a pub. Hope you all enjoy!!

Merida breathed a sigh of relief as the last of the evening’s patrons staggered their way out of The Bear & The Bow on unsteady legs and a welcome hush fell over the cozy pub.

It had been a long day, made impossibly longer by her near-constant worry over her father’s health - a worry that manifested itself as an ever-present tension between her shoulder blades and a dull ache at the base of her neck. Though she couldn’t fully eradicate the worry, she had managed – with no small amount of difficulty – to push down the guilt she felt over not being at the hospital with her mother and brothers by reminding herself that someone had to keep the family business running.

Her mother needed to be with her father, both right now and in the coming days when Fergus would be released from the hospital and allowed to return home. They didn’t know exactly when that would be, or how long he’d be convalescing, and they couldn’t afford to close for the duration of his illness. As the triplets were too young to legally work the taps, the responsibility fell to her to run the place till her father was back on his feet.

She was needed here, and, frankly, focusing on the daily tasks of running the pub kept her from going out of her mind with fear and fretting. If Ruby had still been around, or Mulan, she wouldn’t have hesitated to leave things in their hands - they’d been working at the pub as long as she had and they’d all been friends even longer than that - but they’d both left for their gap year only a couple of months after Merida had left on hers. They were literally a world away in Australia at the moment.

Which meant that if she didn’t see to things at the pub herself, there would have been only one other person she could possibly have put in charge, and there was no way in hell that that was going to happen. Not on her watch.

He’d like that all too well, she mused, a frown pulling at her brows. He’s already made himself far too at home here. Struttin’ around like he owns the place. Well he most certainly does not–

“Why don’t ye let me close up t’night, lass? Ye look near t’dead on yer feet.” As if he’d sensed that she’d been thinking about him, Mac spoke up softly. His voice floated over to her from the center of the pub’s main room, where he’d been wiping down tables for the last several minutes. Looking up from where she’d fallen into a bit of a reverie while cleaning off and capping the taps for the night, she saw that he’d already flipped the door sign to “closed,” slid the locks into place, and turned off the neon lights in the windows. She huffed out a slightly surprised breath. Well that’s just irritatingly efficient of him.

She simply looked at him for a long moment, letting her eyes drift over him slowly. He was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, gazing back at her with a look that bordered far too close to concern for her liking. She could handle the barely-friendly sparring banter they’d fallen into after her return home the previous week, but this? This seeming to truly care, and the softness in his eyes as he regarded her?

She couldn’t handle it right now. Moreover, she couldn’t allow herself to believe in it.

[wisps-n-woad]

🩵🧡🐈‍⬛🤎💙

i know you don’t know the ship, so you don’t have to read it(in fact it will probably be odd and strange if you didn’t watch the exactly two episodes of once upon a time brave was in) but thanks for the prompt @funnefatale

prompt: one of them brings home a black cat

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bad luck

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The kittens had been either abandoned by their mother in the stables, or the mother had died that particularly cold winter, but Merida had a kind heart and brought them into the castle, and ignored any chattering and teasing about Merida getting soft. The funniest reactions were from the council room, when she brought one of the kittens, the smallest and most sickly, when a room full of grown men through an entire fit over their queen bringing a black cat into a meeting.

“He’s a wee chit–a bairn. He’s no harm t’ anybody.” She laughed as one of the elder lairds physically jumped at the sight of it.

“A black cat!” He yelped, alarmed. “T’is bad luck!”

“Ye are a Laird of the highlands, a warrior, and a part of the council. Wouldnae think ye’d be scair’t of a wee cat.” Merida mused, raising an eyebrow.

“Ye’ve brought an omen of ill into a war room my Queen,” Another laird murmured.

Merida rolled her eyes, turning to Macintosh, hoping for a voice of reason. She was surprised to see that even he looked a bit wary, though he hadn’t said anything yet.

“Laird Macintosh, come ‘ere.” She said, crooking her finger at him. He glared at her, feeling like she was about to make an example of him. She smiled sweetly, he was right of course, but he wouldn’t dare not take a direct order from his Queen, especially not in front of the council. He stood and moved solemnly toward her.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him once again. “Macintosh, hold out ye’re hand.”

He obliged but he was still glaring daggers at her, she gently placed the small kitten into his hands, cupping his hand and guiding him to give it some scritches under its little chin. The black kitten began to purr so loudly, she knew the whole hall could hear it.

“Now,” She said, smiling, “look at him, what a dark omen, aye? I ken he’s very big and scary, he might even claw ye’re eyes righ’ out.”

She hadn’t realized her hand was lingering on his until his very blue gray eyes landed on hers and she felt her heart constrict.

“Aye,” He said softly, turning away from her as she dropped her hand abruptly, “T’is jus’ a wee cat, can we get on with the meetin’ now?”

Merida found it hard to concentrate on the meeting after that, not just because of the kitten and the murmuring lairds.