brave in the heart. vikings

𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 29

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The mud and grime of battle stuck to her like a scabbing wound. Blood had dried long ago, crackled by the bitter air as they sailed down the river, back to Lagertha and King Ecbert. Merida was all out of cries- her leg ached with a searing pain that stretched toward the cut on her stomach and her head pounded as loud as a banging drum. Had Bjorn not helped her hobble back to the boats, she knew she never would have made it.

She looked up as he walked beside her, his own pace painted with the symbols of the fight. Blood stained his cheeks and pale hair the colour of her own fiery locks. The light was dull as they continued to march toward the keep, glinting every so often through the heavy, charcoal clouds. It bounced from his blemished skin. Merida found herself admiring him: his strength, his determination, and though she would never admit it, she admired his beauty.

"I will stay," she finally said, shrugging herself from the delusional thoughts that'd kept her quiet. The hall where they would meet King Ecbert was easily in sight.

"No, you deserve recognition," Bjorn said, moving his hand to her arm- he would drag her in if she refused.

"From a man that is not my king?" Merida argued, pulling her arm from his grip, her limp sending her wobbling. She groaned in frustration, but agreed. "I can barely walk!"

"Have I not helped you all this way?" Bjorn said, head straightening to see over the line of men in front of them. "There is food and drink inside."

"I already agreed, you do not need to convince me to be by your side as we go through," she hissed, landing in her leg wrong, but walking through still with her head held high.

They entered through the large wooden doors in staggered waves. The king's son went in first, a prideful smirk on his worn face. Then Ragnar left them, greeting Ecbert with a kindness that made Merida grind her own teeth. She knew too much about the man to ever be tolerable. Bjorn looked down on her amused, before they stepped through.

"Ah, Merida of Dunbroch," King Ecbert said, his blond eyebrows raising slightly at the sight of her. "I wondered if I would have the opportunity to speak to you again."

"King Ecbert," she bit out, "Forgive me if I do not kiss your hand."

If the man was put out by her loud declaration, he didn't show it. King Ecbert tilted his head, nodding as he glanced momentarily to Ragnar.

"As I said with Ragnar, I wouldn't expect you to," he said, before changing his tone. "How is your dear father?"

Merida bit her tongue and took a steady breath. Ecbert knew what he was doing. He was taunting her, prodding her with his fine combed words until she finally burst like a sac, filled to the brim with grudge resulted anger. He'd known it since he saw her upon their arrival.

"Growing stronger everyday," she answered simply, tightening her grip on Bjorn's arm. She felt him stiffen beside her.

"But I see you are not with him, so how, dear Merida, would you know?"

She refused to let him mock her. "We are of the same blood. I know."

"Very well," he said, eyes glazing over her lazily to instead land beside her. "With Bjorn Ironside as a protector, I imagine you will be able to do no wrong."

Merida said nothing in return, instead feeling as Bjorn's stance swelled out beside her. He stood taller, chin higher and shoulders broad.

King Ecbert blinked. "Enjoy the food and drink. We thank you for fighting."

With her limp still relentless, Merida walked past King Ecbert, Bjorn at her side. Relief flooded through her as she saw Lagertha next to Ragnar, her snow-white skin without a fleck of mud or and inch of an injury. Her dress was fine- distinctively English if anything- with a delicate neck line and a simple colour. She couldn't imagine how Bjorn felt. They met her quickly with big smiles.

"Lagertha!" She called, letting Bjorn's arm snake from her side as he embraced his mother. Lager

"What happened to you?" She said, holding her at arms length to inspect the blood that flecked her clothes.

"I am not as good a warrior as I thought," Merida said, her face flushing deeply.

Bjorn returned with two drinks, handing one over with a grin on his face. "She lies," he said. "She was the best on the battlefield. When not talking about me, of course."

Lagertha laughed again at Merida's scowl. "I wish I could have seen it."

Merida nodded. But the settlement- all is well?" She asked.

"Very well," she replied simply, lips pursing.

Merida's eyebrows raised, her lips frowning slightly. "You and King Ecbert have been getting along?"

"Yes."

"Be careful of him," Merida said, glancing to the man that now stood with Princess Kwenthrith and her brother. "I know there is poison behind his charm."

"There is poison behind all men," Lagertha said, rubbing her arms.

Merida grimaced- she knew some men's poison was more deadly than others. King Ecbert's poison smelt like flowers and something sweet- of peace and serenity. It was the bite that her father had survived, that was dangerous.

"Merida," Ragnar called on her. "May I have a word with you in private?"

She nodded, quietly, following after him as he brought her to the side, his face stone serious.

"I want you to tell me about the history between your father and King Ecbert," he said.

Merida sucked in a breath. "You have heard the tales of the bear king?" She asked.

Ragnar nodded, wasting no time with words.

"When the Northmen attacked Dunbroch, my father called upon King Ecbert in hopes that after their recent talks of peace between them, Wessex would join the defence. In the end, King Fergus managed fine without the allies, but still, King Ecbert refused," she said, before pausing, arm clutching her stomach as a sudden flood of pain washed across the cut.

"I'm fine," she wheezed, shaking her head before going back to her explanation. "Instead, he took the Northmen's attack as a chance to invade Dunbroch himself while we were vulnerable. It didn't work, of course."

Another jolt of pain wracked through her body, and a gasp left Merida's lips. She looked up to Ragnar, his face in quiet contemplation.

"Excuse me," she wheezed, stepping to the side.

All at once, the weight of the pain came crashing down upon her. Merida cried out, hand flying to her stomach as her legs gave way, sending her scattering to her knees. Something was wrong- it felt as if pins were sticking into her, a burning sword was being pushed through her middle. She could faintly sense Ragnar at her side, hand on her arm, the other wrapping under the other to pull her up.

"Bjorn!" Ragnar shouted. The sound of metal clattering to the floor followed.

He was in front of her, his pale face blurring within her vision. She tried to reach out, her trembling fingers brushing over his cheek. He enveloped her hand in his, helping Ragnar to pull her to her feet. Like a dead weight, the pulled her forward, shouting for help. But all she could see was a mix of dull colours, of browns and reds and blacks.

She blinked. And blinked again. And dropped into a sleep.

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