Jarida Drabbles

Another Suitor¿

"Suitor? Another one? Mum!"

"Merida," her mother groaned, "humor me. He's the son of a good friend of your father's. Don't think about it as a duty."

"Alright, how about a punishment? Or a prison sentence?" the red head shot back, her old temper flaring. "I'd thought we agreed to not do this."

"I'm not telling you to marry him!" her mother tried to reason, her fingers massaging her temple. "You owe your father a meeting. At least be present for their arrival later, say hello, and if you don't like him you don't have to stay. That's reasonable, is it not?"

The young girl huffed, blowing a stray curl from her eye on for it to flap back down and poke her. Her mother chuckled softly, stepped forward and tucked the resilient curl behind her daughter's ear. Her hands cupped Merida's round race as she smiled down. "For your father?"

"Oh, alright," the redhead replied, playfully rolling her eyes. "But don't expect much more."

"When would I ever overestimate you?" she asked gentle and leaned forward, rubbing their noses together.

Merida broke into bursts of laughter as she pushed away from her mother and ran out of the room, calling for her brothers.

Hissing, the young female DunBroch pulled the high, constricting collar of her dress from her neck.

"Havin' difficulty, my wee darlin'?" her father questioned, leaning over with a twinkle in his eye.

"Aye, breathing. But no worries, not like it's essential to my survival," she whispered out the corner of her mouth.

The burly man let out a hearty guffaw, his large hand slapping the arm of his thrown. His lips parted to comment, but the large doors creaked open to reveal a man as burly as her father but taller. Snow white hair flecked with streaks of black fell to his shoulders and graced his face. The man boomed, his voice rumbling across the throne room, "Fergus!"

"Nicholas!" her father returned in greeting as he rose strode across the room to meet the newcomer.

The two men clasped forearms, chuckling and exchanging pleasantries. Merida and her mother shared arched eyebrows and a private laugh as Fergus delved into his story of how his wife was turned into a bear by a dastardly witch that had tricked his daughter. The way he went on, it almost sounded as if he saved the day: staying the blade of his sword just in time to allow his daughter to transform his wife back.

The blue eyes turned away from the queen to spy a slender man with white hair leaning on a shepherd's crook. His eyes glinted with mischievousness as he scanned the room until they latched onto hers. His thin lips pulled into a smug smirk as he gazed at her.

Merida flinched away from the forwardness before getting ahold of herself and scrunching her nose and pulling her lips in a sneer of disgust.

"That's his son," her mother, who now stood at her elbow, whispered down to her. "Jackson."

"I figured," she responded, righting her face but never drawing her eyes away from ones just as brilliantly blue. "The hair and all."

"Yes, it's an interesting trait of the family. Now, how about you go and say hello."

"I don't want," she stated, crossing her arms.

"Merida," her mother snapped before taking a deep breath. "You promised."

"I know but—I don't like him."

"You haven't even met him."

"Don't need to."

"Merida!"

"Fine," she said, pushing herself to her feet. "But I won't promise to enjoy his company or last longer than greetings," the redhead informed her mother as she pulled her shoulders back and raised her chin. With a small nod in acknowledgement to the Queen and the—empty—bench for her brothers, she made her way across the room. Really? She groaned inwardly. They could leave with unnoticed ease while she was stuck here.

Stopping an arm's reach away from the young man, she gave him a nod in acknowledgement.

"Aren't you going to curtsy?" he asked with that smug smirk.

"Aren't you going to bow?" she quipped.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "But I find things go smoother if it's the woman who does."

Red brows puckered in confusion before his meaning dawned on her. "You overstep your boundaries."

"I see it more as testing the fortifications, looking for weak spots easily punctured."

Nails bit into the tender skin of her palms as she forced herself to restrain from snatching the shepherd's crook and giving him a sound lashing.

His face loosened as a fierce laugh seized him. Bending over, he clutched his stomach until he managed to stand straight again, his breath coming out in short puffs. "You take things too seriously, princess. Learn to have some fun."

"Fun?" she questioned with pursed lips and arched eyebrow. "I'll show you fun," she challenged as she head out the doors and down to the stables with the white haired man at her heels.

"Gauntlet accepted," he teased with easy confidence.

She could just picture that smug smirk he was wearing, and it was so rewarding to imagine wiping it off. Oh, she would enjoy that. He wanted fun? She'd show him fun. But not necessarily with the arrows he had in mind.