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#swynmerida
mamabear-elinor · 9 months
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Second Child, Restless Child -> [The DunBrochs]
In which Harris reveals a secret to Merida...[takes place: idk probably sometime in June]
@heart-of-dunbroch
[tw -- self loathing, anti magick sentiment]
-> -> ->
[link here]
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labellerose-acheron · 2 years
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Join Up *** [Saddle Club]
@heart-of-dunbroch
Belle had invited Merida for a ride. Or, well, more accurately: she had waited until a time when hers and Merida’s schedules had aligned and then made sure she was at the little barn on her property, already grooming Philippe when Merida strolled up. They’d tacked up and gone out. It wasn’t so odd. The only thing odd were the questions on Belle’s tongue. 
She tried to forget them, pressing her heels into Philippe’s sides so they sprung forward, the two horses galloping along. Those uncomfortable conversations left far behind, torn up underneath their horses pounding hooves.
It was only when they were walking back, reins slack, cooling the horses down, that Belle decided she should bring it up. Otherwise, she wouldn’t. 
“Merida,” Belle said, gathering her reins and sitting up a little straighter. “May I ask you about something? It has to do with the Rescue Aid Society.” 
Out in the woods, she didn’t mind naming it. There was no one except, maybe, the Prince to hear. The only problem was, although Belle had not been given much information, just Merida’s name and that she had been a ward of the RAS--she had been able to put together how those two paths had crossed. When Merida had been released from prison, Belle had been furious. She hadn’t understood why or how. 
Now, it made sense. She didn’t hold it against Merida. In fact, if she had been on the other side of things, she would be right along with the RAS, trying to free her. But, it was a time in their relationship they rarely spoke of. It was painful and difficult and Belle was rather shy about painful and difficult conversations. Merida was quite the same. It had been easier to just accept, forgive, and move on. Now, they would need to talk about it, if Belle was gonna get all of the information that she needed in order to make the best decision for her career and her family. 
[outfit]
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mamabear-elinor · 1 year
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Snowball Mayhem -> [Merida + the Boys]
@heart-of-dunbroch
Harris and Hamish had been biding their time. The snow that had fallen in the woods was thicker than in town, meaning that it had stuck around and kept piling up. Mam had made them shovel the long drive going up to the front of the castle. but now they were mostly done and realized that the snow piled up on either side of the drive was the perfect place for an ambush.
And wouldn’t you know it, but their sister was coming home shortly.
It was Harris who had spotted their perfect cover, behind a short bush, half-hidden by snow. They had made enough snowballs to have a sizeable stack. Harris kept going over them, making sure they were packed tight and of a good, throwable size. Hamish busied himself quietly making more ammo and digging them out a little trench to access more snow.
It was nice. And fun. It felt like a long time since they’d had fun. Their birthday was coming up and it just felt...disappointing. They were supposed to become knights this year, graduating from squires, but that was never going to happen now. The promises they’d been given their whole lives had disappeared like smoke. Not that either of them minded much, but it was still...weird.
Both were trying not to think about it. This was better anyways.
Merida appeared eventually and Harris whistled quietly for Hamish to get down. He gestured with a hand to his lips, then pointed at his ear. Right, Merida was a werewolf now. She had super hearing. Next, he put his hand out to stay Hamish’s throw.
Hamish nodded.
They waited and waited and waited--
“FIRE!” Harris crowed, jumping up from behind the bush and launching a perfect snowball right at Merida. A second one followed as Hamish threw his own. They both ducked back down with a laugh, grabbing for their next one, hoping not to give their sister an opportunity to fend for herself.
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mamabear-elinor · 1 year
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A Princess Does Not...Get a Training Certificate -> [The DunBrochs]
@heart-of-dunbroch
The door to the castle opened and shut with its characteristic boom.
“Ach, that’ll be your sister,” Elinor said as she stood up, the pan of roasted chicken in her arms from where she’d just taken it out of the oven. She had left it warming. “Hamish, fetch your sister.”
“Yes, Mam,” the youngest triplet said dutifully and skipped out of the kitchen, probably grateful to get away from the black cloud of Elinor’s mood.
Harris went back to setting the table silently.
The smell of chicken and roasted vegetables filled the room as Elinor set it on the table and took her seat just as Merida and Hamish appeared in the doorway.
“You’re late,” Elinor said in a voice that made it very clear she didn’t want to hear any excuses. She cut into the chicken. “Wash your hands before you sit down.”
Hamish had already scampered to his seat and it scraped against the stone floor as he tucked in. Harris was already sitting quiet and straight-backed on Elinor’s other side.
As soon as Merida took her seat, Elinor glanced at all of her children. Well. Her eyes lingered over the empty chairs. Not all of her children.
“I was thinking, for the boys’ birthday, we could go up to London.”
Harris brightened slightly. Hamish looked surprised.
“Really?” Harris asked, excitedly.
“I don’t see why not.” Elinor glanced across the table at her daughter, “as long as Merida’s busy schedule will allow it.”
[outfit]
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mamabear-elinor · 2 years
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Back to School Shopping -> [Brave Women]
@heart-of-dunbroch​
"Come now, there must be something you like here, Mishmish,” Elinor said as she flipped through the racks of button ups. “What about this one? It would look lovely with your eyes.”
Elinor pulled out the deep blue sweater and held it up to him.
“Mam, I cannae wear a sweater, I’ll boil alive.”
Elinor clucked her tongue but returned the sweater. This was proving more difficult than she thought. Since when did her boys care so much about how they looked? Was it because they were nervous starting school? They wanted to be impressive?
“Fine, what about this?” She pulled out a green plaid button up.
Hamish made a face.
“Merida, tell your brother that no one is gonna care what he wears and unless he picks something, I’m sending him to school nekkid as a wee bairn.”
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[outfit]
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mamabear-elinor · 2 years
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After the War -> [Brave Women]
In which Elinor, Merida, Harris, and Hamish deal with the aftermath of the battle at Best Castle...[takes place: July 02]
@heart-of-dunbroch
[tw -- discussion of death/murder(?)]
MERIDA: The battle was over. 
It didn’t feel that way though, did it? Not for hours later. Not even when she wiped the blood from her split lip and let her curls down, or stepped into the shower to wash off the dirt and grime. As the water washed over her, she closed her eyes and saw the room she and her family had stood in, moments before the glass had shattered. The story wasn’t supposed to end that way– though Merida couldn’t imagine any other ending. And so she replayed it to keep the battle alive. Merida was always more focused and more herself when she had something to fight. 
But there were other things to do. Hubert had disappeared– fleeing, she assumed, with the few knights who escaped into the wood, to regroup and form some plan. But Harris and Hamish had stayed behind. Even after watching the glass shatter– they were here.
She’d taken them to a guest room, recently spruced up by their mam. Gave ‘em towels and showed them the shower and how to get the hot water (the system was so old, it took a lot of fiddling.) And as they cleaned themselves, she’d gone back up to that room where she’d looked Elinor in, bringing with her a massive blanket. She’d opened it and found Elinor sleeping, all curled up like a child. Merida put the blanket over her and sat with her until she woke up.
When she did, it all felt like too much to explain. The words were rocks in her mouth, especially when Elinor asked if it was over– and Merida couldn’t answer one way or the other. 
But she’d told her the worst of it, in the most gentle way that Merida could (though more for herself than Elinor, if she were honest.)
Da attacked me. You turned into a bear, she said to her mother. And then he fell. 
Elinor could fill in the blanks. 
Now it was another hour later and the leftovers of the DunBroch family gathered downstairs. Elinor had made tea rather frantically. Merida scrounged around for leftovers for the boys to eat, and came up with some warmed-up beef stew. 
She set down the bowls in front of them and collapsed in her own chair. “Dig in then,” she said, because she wasn’t sure what else she should say. 
Hamish picked up his spoon and scooped up some vegetables, then let it plop back into the bowl. He sniffled, face all red from crying. 
Harris sniffed it and made a face. 
“Oi,” said Merida. “It’s edible, ye oafs. Don’t be like that.” 
“I hate rutabaga,” mumbled Hamish. 
ELINOR: Elinor hadn’t said anything since Merida had informed her of what had transpired in that cursed tower of the castle. 
She hadn’t cried. There had been nothing but cold. All she had done was tell Merida thank you and given her instructions to find the boys rooms and something to wear. Put them together, she’d said, her voice just as it always was when she was doling out instructions, but Elinor felt as if she was very far away from it. Instructions were easy. Elinor could do them in her sleep. Fergus used to joke that she did sometimes, waking him up to tell him that the windows needed to be fixed or there was a piece of fence needing mending in the pastures. 
Fergus. 
Elinor felt as weak and shaky as she always did when coming down from a transformation, but there was something different about it this time. No matter what, it felt like she couldn’t get warm. She went to her room and turned the shower onto the hottest setting and stood under the stream as her skin went red and angry, but she hardly felt it. Her hands ran through her short hair and she thought about how much Fergus had loved her hair, how he had never wanted her to cut it. How it had been all the way down her back for most of her adult life. Now, it felt too short. There was nothing to grasp. 
If she cried in the shower, she didn’t realize it. And when she stepped out, she was still shivering. She dressed in a knit green sweater and a pair of jeans. It wouldn’t do for the boys to see her in a pair of pajamas. They would find that odd and Elinor did not want to make the changes between them all any more glaring. 
In the kitchen, alone, Elinor set about making a tea. Merida appeared, silently, and the boys trailing her as they always did like little ducklings. No one said anything. Merida set out bowls for stew. Elinor didn’t know if she could eat it. It was a stew she had made a hundred times. One that she always had on hand. It was a family recipe. A stew for colds. For broken hearts. It could mend anything, her grandmother used to say. 
Nothing, Elinor thought, could mend this. 
Elinor made the tea. Merida’s black. Harris’ with a dollop of honey and milk. Hamish with a spoonful of sugar. She set the mugs down in front of all of them. 
Merida broke the silence first. She said nothing really, but Elinor felt the moment rend through the air anyway, like a clap of thunder. Primly, she sat in her own chair, across from her children. 
“Ach, just eat,” she told them both and took a firm bite of her own soup, even if it tasted like ash in her mouth. 
Both boys did as they were told. Elinor wondered if this was from years of conditioning, having not forgotten their mother’s command; or if it was because they were afraid of her. Both options made her want to scream. 
Elinor knew that she was not a perfect mother by any stretch, but she tried. She wanted to try now, but she had no idea where to start. 
“Boys--” Elinor started, then stopped again, glancing at Merida. She didn’t know why. This was not Merida’s responsibility. 
“Do you want us to eat or to talk?” Harris grumbled in that sharp way of his. 
Elinor cut a look at him. “I just--I wanted--” she fumbled again “--to say I am sorry.” Her own eyes filled with tears for a moment, but Elinor had many years of practice at putting her tears somewhere else. Saving them for later. Or for never at all. 
MERIDA: Merida could count on one hand the times that Elinor had apologized. Her mam had the infuriating flaw of always thinking she was right. (Merida had this flaw too; what DunBroch didn’t?) And so there was the time that Merida became a werewolf and Elinor had apologized before sending her running into the hills of the Sneck, away from her warring father. 
And then there was this. Now. 
Merida sat there, not touching her own stew, as her mother tried to put together the apology. But it was harder than anything, wasn’t it? More fragile than glass, more particular than a piece of embroidery. Elinor was a woman who made things, whether that was a supper or a weapon within the forge. But she faltered here. Apologies were made of more mysterious things than words, weren’t they? 
She felt compelled to say she was sorry too. But she had already. She had a million times. Merida had started to suspect that a sorry said by her meant nothin’ more than a ‘good day’ or a ‘good bye.’ And so she sat there, grim-faced. She watched her brothers. 
They were quiet too, either waiting for Elinor to say more or… 
It was Harris who spoke up after a few long, tense seconds. 
“Are you sorry Da’s dead or are you sorry you killed him?” he said grimly. 
Merida frowned at once. “Ach, Harry. Don’t be like that.” 
“Like what?” said Harris. “It’s a good question.”
“She can be sorry for both.” Merida tried to defend Elinor. Her eyes darted to her mam. “She didn’t– it’s a curse, it’s not like me. She can’t control it. It isn’t her fault. He would have killed me–” 
“I know,” said Harris. He was trying to be tough, but the tears had returned. He sniffled. “I know that.”
“I didn’t know the curse part,” mumbled Hamish. His lip wobbled. When he looked up at their mam, it wasn’t with any of the uncertainty that Harris carried, like Harris was trying to figure out if he wanted to stay or go, if they were the enemy or not– if he had made the wrong or right decision.
Gentle Hamish, instead, was simply scared. “Is it like Mor’du?” he asked. “W-will you turn into a bear one day and never come back?” 
ELINOR: Elinor flinched at Harris’ words. Despite the squareness of her shoulders and the straightness of the spine, she felt fragile as glass. 
Dead. You killed him. 
The women of the Order were no stranger to death. They cleaned the wounds of the dead as the living, before sending them off to their coffins. She had done it for a few DunBroch men, a few Briar ones too. Her hands had touched death before, felt it’s cold but never had it been inside of her. She felt those words now: you killed him, pressed like ice against her heart. She wondered if it would spread. If she would always be cold. Fergus had never talked to her about the burden of killing, even when Elinor used to wash his shoulders in the shower and pretend the tears he cried were just water. 
And now—she wished she could ask, for who else was she supposed to? How was one to move forward? Especially when she couldn’t remember it. The last thing she did was Fergus looking at her, his sharp, blue eyes betrayed. And how she had loved him and hated him all at once. 
Harris had those same blue eyes. Deep and cold as the lochs. 
Hamish’s were softer, a Briar blue like skies. They were wide and wet now as he mentioned the curse. 
Again, Elinor did not know what to say. The truth was that yes. She could disappear into the bear and never return. They didn’t know. Howl had warned of it. Elinor felt it, every time she came back: the ache in her bones to return to the bear and never think about all of these complex, human emotions again. She did not remember much of the bear, but she did know that it was simple. It wanted simple things. Oh, how Elinor wished she did as well. 
“Donnae fash about that.” Elinor tried to smile but it was thin and thready as her nervous heart. 
“Donnae treat us like bairns, Ma,” Harris said again, harsh despite the tears in his eyes. “Tell us straight.”
When Elinor looked at her boys all she saw was the wee bairns that had been laid on her breast. But now she looked at them and they were taller and leaner, some of their baby fat having dropped away, though it still clung stubbornly to their cheeks. Harris especially looked much older as he struggled to hold back his tears. 
“It doesn’t matter right now. It—it isn’t going to hurt you,” Elinor fret. “There will be plenty of time to discuss all that. We—we must get you settled first.” 
“Ma—“ Hamish protested softly. 
“Eat your stew!” Elinor commanded, taking a bite of her own. She did not say it harshly, but with all the force she could muster. Her voice was still thin and frail. “You mustn’t go to bed on an empty stomach.” 
MERIDA: Merida’s eyes darted from her mam to her brothers, following the back and forth. This was strange. It was strange because it was not strange at all, but exactly the same as it might’ve been if she was back in Cawdor and all those old stone walls were listening in. Though Merida had been gone years and years– though age had given Hamish and Harris height and dots of acne on their faces– they were still the same. This was her mam. These were her rowdy, too-smart brothers. If Merida let herself, she’d get weepy, as she realized how grateful she was to be sat here at the table again, listenin’ to Elinor nag them both. 
But she’d weep for other reasons, if she let herself get started. After all, the table was not complete. There were only four DunBrochs here. Four sets of spoons clatterin’ against bowls. Four glasses on the table. Merida was used to an empty table, for many years it was just herself, but now it felt emptier than it had then when she looked to where her da would have sat, when she heard the places where bold and brash Hubert would have chimed in.
He would have probably said something right now about how he wouldn’t finish his stew until Elinor told ‘em the truth. He was always the first to step out of line and not care about the consequences. That’s what set him apart from Harris, who stepped out of line plenty, but got away with it more. 
He should be here now. 
Maybe it was out of missing, then, for her last brother, the brother most like herself and like Da, that Merida spoke up. “Mam’s dealin’ with the curse,” she said. “It’s not gone as far as Mor’du and it never will. It’s triggered by anger and– ye know Mam–she’s got it handled.” 
“How’d it even happen?” said Hamish glumly.
Merida shrugged. “Dunnae.” 
“Probably the Order,” said Harris. He scoffed. “Bunch of hypocritical gits.” 
Merida blinked, sitting up straighter at that. Even Hamish glanced at his brother in surprise.
“Well they are, we all know it. Everyone goes along and never says shite, but innit that the reason you left anyway?” said Harris as his sharp eyes landed on Merida. 
“Well… sort of,” said Merida. “I think the whole murderin’ innocent people thing was more the reason–”
“Same thing,” said Harris. “Everyone says one thing, and does another. We say we don’t mess with magic, but we get fairy gifts and enchanted weapons and curse people who disagree with us. I thought maybe it was just cuz the king but– he died and it didn’t change. Mam’s curse just proves it.”  
Merida sucked her teeth. “Yeesh. You always were too smart for yer own good.” 
ELINOR: Merida came to her defense. Elinor blinked, thrown off by this, not sure if she had heard correctly. She was quite used to being the bad guy. It was usually Hubert and Merida on one side. Harris, well, it depended on the argument, and Hamish did not like to take sides, for he did not like arguments. And Fergus—well, he had never been any help when it had come to discipline. He had found Merida’s disregard for ladylike tradition to be funny, until it was too big of a problem and then, he had blamed Elinor for not having controlled her better.
Her and her daughter never agreed. Elinor could not remember a single time that Merida had ever thought that Elinor had something handled.
The funniest part—in the most ironic way possible—was that Elinor did not believe she did. After all, she had just lost control and killed her ex-husband. Part of her didn’t understand why Merida would take her side at all. She wanted to protest. To tell Merida to hate her, because wouldn’t that be easier? Better for all of them?
But she simply stayed silent. That was something else Elinor had learned over the years. How to be silent. For all her ability to corral her children, she also had learned that sometimes, she was simply speaking to several brick walls. It had been useless, so she had just tucked her anger somewhere under her ribcage and stayed silent.
She stayed silent as her son so succinctly summed up what had taken her entire life to realize. The guilt burrowed itself deeper, like a worm inside of her heart. How long had Harris thought this? How long had he been alone? What would have happened if they had not gone to war and torn the Order out by its teeth?
“Yes, it was probably the Order,” Elinor said after a long moment.
Harris’ eyes turned back towards her and behind that sharp expression, he could see that he was still wary.
“I wish—” Elinor paused again, her words twisted on her tongue. “I wish I would’ve taken you with me, when I left.”
“We wouldnae come,” Harris said simply and dipped his head to take a bite of his soup.
“I woulda,” Hamish mumbled but followed suit.
“I dinnae want you to get hurt or—I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to find Merida or that she’d want to see me or…what she was like but—” Elinor reached across the table to touch Harris’ hand, then Hamish’s. “We’re together now.”
“Not Hubert,” Harris reminded them all harshly.
“No.” Elinor’s face crumpled.
“He’s a git,” Harris continued.
“I-I am sure he is just…confused. Hurt.”
“Or he’s a git,” Harris repeated, more angrily.
“Harris.”
Harris shrugged and went back to slurping at his stew.
“Donnae slurp.”
Harris slurped louder.
MERIDA: Merida snorted at Harris. Typical Harris. Couldn’t he be amiable for at least a moment, for Mam’s sake?
But Merida knew the answer to that, because she was the same. She saw parts of herself in all of her brothers. Hubert, she shared the most with. They were both reactive, bold, mouthy and take-charge. He only ever listened to Harris the same way that Merida really only listened to Belle these days– both Merida and Hubert hard-won, but once you did win ‘em, you had ‘em for life. And so she understood why Hubert hadn’t stayed. He had taken the first opportunity, in the madness of battle, to split and run back to the people who he trusted. The people who had raised him. The people he owed his loyalty to. And after watchin’ his Da get murdered by a bear? ‘Course he didn’t want to stay!
If they were going to win him back, it would be Harris who convinced him. 
And Harris– Merida was stubborn like Harris. She could be moody and grumpy, though she got over her moods faster than he ever did. Harris treated his moods like an ol favourite bone he carried around to chew on. 
And as for Hamish– honestly, Merida struggled to see what she shared with him. She wasn’t a people pleaser. She didn’t cry easily. She wasn’t as fond of music.
But she did love her family. And Hamish did love them all, more than music, more than he’d ever loved the Order. 
So yeah, this conversation was goin’ about as well as any. Since when had the DunBrochs ever had a conversation that wasn’t a mess? 
“Anyway,” Merida declared (doing her normal take-charge thing; she was the eldest anyway!) “The only thing we can do now is move forward. We’ll eh– we’ll sort out rooms and all that. Get yourselves settled in.”
“Wait,” said Hamish. His spoon clattered into his bowl. “I thought…aren’t we all goin’ back to Cawdor?” 
Merida scoffed at that. “Wha? No, we can’t. The Order would come and stab us in our sleep!” 
“Well, I thought since we won the battle–”
“Won’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Merida said.
“But,” Hamish said, huffing. “But if Da’s not– then why couldn’t we–”
“It’s just too unstable right now, Hamish,” mumbled Harris next to his brother. 
Hamish pouted. “I guess.”
“It’s alright, you’ll like Swynlake,” Merida tried to comfort him. She glanced at Elinor. “Right, Mam? It’s a wee town, but not so bad.” 
ELINOR: “No, it isn’t bad,” Elinor allowed, smiling small and grateful at Merida before looking at her sons.
“It’ll be an adventure,” she encouraged them. “And, maybe, one day, we can return home. Just not…just not now. Things are dangerous and I don’t want anything to happen to either of you.”
Just the thought made her feel ill. She was already starting to fret over Hubert. The Order wouldn’t hurt him, of course, but he was a sensitive boy. He was going to be angry about what happened and anger could allow him to be twisted. Elinor just wanted him here too, so that all her children could sleep under the same roof again for the first time in years. 
“Now, finish dinner. We will find you your rooms. Would you like to be separate or together?”
Hamish and Harris glanced at each other with expressions that Elinor could only just read.
“Together,” they said. 
Elinor smiled. At least, some things had not changed about her sons. They were so much taller. They looked like young men. It was as if in the last year they had lost all of their baby fat. (This was not true, but it certainly felt that way now.) 
“Very well. I will look into what it will take to get you enrolled at school.”
“Like--school school?” Harris asked, looking sharply at his mother.
“Yes, proper school.” 
Most Order boys were homeschooled until university. They moved around too much as squires to have a proper education in a public or private school. Elinor had been in charge of their lessons until they’d gone off to squire. Then, their squiring families had taken over their education. 
Hamish looked like he was going to be ill, but Harris had sat up somewhat. 
“Do we have tae?” Hamish whined. “Cannae you just do it?” 
“No,” Elinor said, “I--have to work.” 
Hamish made another face. 
“Come now, finish your dinners. And then it is off to bed with ye. All of ye.” She glanced at Merida too, her expression firm, though her eyes were still tired and watery. She just--needed to know that all her children were alone and safe in their beds tonight. Tomorrow…well, she didn’t know what she needed, but it didn’t matter. She knew what her children needed and she would do that. She would always do that.
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mamabear-elinor · 8 months
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Of Monsters and Hauntings -> [The DunBrochs]
In which the haunting at Best Castle comes to a head...[takes place: July 22, 2023]
@heart-of-dunbroch
[tw -- minor bear-on-wolf violence]
-> -> ->
[link here]
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mamabear-elinor · 2 years
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The Fall of Rome: A Battle of Beasts and Bows [Part One: The Fall of the House of DunBroch] || [Brave Women]
In which the Order comes to Swynlake...[takes place: July 02]
@heart-of-dunbroch
[tw -- violence, gore, major character death]
ELINOR: Elinor had never been to battle. At least, never the type of battle that one usually thought of. The kind that were sung about in ballads. Most of her battles had been silently waged within herself. The battle to stay silent for years and years, as she watched Merida’s spirit crack around the edges as she was crushed beneath the cog of destiny; as she watched her bright, beautiful sons harden and dull under the pressures of their family name. The battle to mourn her unborn children alone. The battle to leave her husband and everything she had known behind. 
These were the wars that women fought, but now--she had been called to fight a proper one. Elinor was not afraid. She was angry. 
The Order  was daring to attack her home? Her daughter? Everything that she had tried to build, on her own, over the last year? Elinor no longer would so easily cower when the fighting came, as it would come this evening--the sky dusky purple, the forest quiet. The castle grounds had a thin mist of fog settling over them, dampening every sound. The air was still. 
They knew that there wasn’t enough of them to keep the Order from breaching the walls, so the plan had been to stay close to the castle and split the forces. Elinor, Merida, Dipper, John, and Phillip would be coming up on the flank, trying to split the force in half and draw them into the maze. Belle, San, Henry, and Rose would use the castle’s original intention as a fortress to push an offensive from inside the building.
Hopefully, it would be enough to drive them off. Howl, Hades, and Toulouse--as well as a few other allies were on standby, should things start to sour. Each of them had a magical amulet that they could smash to sound the alarm for back up, if necessary. They glowed soft yellow from each of their wrists. 
Elinor shifted in her spot, looking towards Merida as they waited in the hedges. “You don’t think they’d bring the boys with them, do you?” she couldn’t help but ask. She’d already asked it, but now that the violence was imminent she was growing nervous again. 
MERIDA: Before a battle was the only time Merida had ever felt calm. It was a feelin’ she could never explain, not to herself or to her mam. But it was the reason she was so wild otherwise, always restless and noisy and lookin’ for somethin’ to do with her hands. But now, she had a sword on her hip and her bow. It had been a long time since she’d held that bow, so worn and loved by Merida’s fingers that its once fine etchings on the wood had faded where she gripped it. Now she held it like an anchor as her heart beat steadily. She looked out the hedges with the eyes of a wolf. She breathed in the woods, her woods, and scented the Order as she would prey. They were comin’. She hadn’t warned Elinor yet– she would when they were truly close, but her mam was already nervous enough.
Truthfully, she was trying to pick out the scents of her brothers among them. But would she recognize Harris, Hubert, and Hamish? Had she forgotten what they smelled like, her own kin? Would the wolf know them? Or had the Order changed them too much? 
She breathed. She watched. And at her mother’s voice, she glanced her way, but only for a moment, not wanting to break concentration. 
“We can’t rule it out,” she said again. This had been her answer before and her answer now. “If it were me, I’d do it.” 
Because of course. What better way to complicate the battle than to bring three young boys into the heart of it– to confuse Merida and Elinor? 
“We should be ready for it.” 
And then– Merida stood even straighter. “Shite, they’re gettin’ closer– there’s a lot of ‘em. Tryin’ figure out–” she sniffed the air rather crudely, taking in deeper breaths.
ELINOR: Yes, they would try to use her children, wouldn’t they? 
Elinor felt her stomach roll with revulsion. How had she let herself get trapped in this situation? How had she left her sons to fend for themselves in an institution that would offer them nothing but grief, pain, and violence? 
She should have freed them, somehow. She should have known from early on that the Order was foul, corrupt, and corroded. The veil had been lifted and it felt as if she had been living inside a corpse and only just now realized that the flesh was rotted. It had been too late to get her sons out. Her daughter had learned before she had. Merida had saved herself. Elinor had saved herself, but she hadn’t saved her sons.
The guilt of that would live with her, she was sure, for years to come. 
Her face was pale and she was silent, not replying to Merida’s confirmation that the boys would probably be here. There wasn’t anything to say. There was only what they could do. The time for talking had long passed, though Elinor wished only to sit down with her sons. With Fergus. Explain to them--get them to see the truth--
But they wouldn’t. The boys were too young. They had been poisoned against her. She had let it happen. And Fergus--
He wasn’t the man that she had married. He’d been corrupted and corroded the way the Order did to everyone. 
She adjusted her stance and then glanced at Merida’s, sniffing and snorting like a bear. “Merida, please,” Elinor hissed, unable to help herself. Her heart was racing and she felt ill--the bear lurking close. 
MERIDA: Merida ignored Elinor– as was her superpower. 
She was focused on the scents, every battle instinct she’d crafted over the years honed in. There was no time to quarrel with her mam. The forest was full of enemies. Soon, the castle would be full of enemies. And among them– 
Though it had been years, she recognized the scent of family. Her father’s scent. Fergus had always smelled like whiskey and pine, calling up memories of family camping trips throughout the forests of Scotland. Her da, who always brought more drink along than he needed– whose laughter billowed louder than thunder, who was a storm all by himself. She’d wanted to be just like him when she was younger, happy to have his red hair and curls, to be DunBroch through and through. 
Now, he was comin’ right at them all.  And she’d have to face him from the other end of a sword. 
“They’ve split their men into two flanks!” Merida hissed. “Da’s with ‘em.” She laced her bow and then crouched down, peering over the hedge. 
Movement in the tree line. 
At the first head, Merida let an arrow fly. It caught a man right in the shoulder and he fell with a scream. 
“THEY’RE HERE!” Merida cried out, then laced another arrow as the men charged. 
ELINOR: Fergus. 
Elinor felt her stomach drop and she felt suddenly faint. Or like she wanted to put herself in front of Merida’s bow and Fergus’ sword and—convince them to lay down their weapons. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go. She had known this was how the fight would go, but she didn’t want it. She still held onto the hope that when Fergus saw her, he’d be the man she remembered. 
The one she had married. Who was a good man. Not a man beaten down by family expectations and failure after failure. 
There wasn’t much she could do as the Order poured through the front gates. They hadn’t been expecting an attack, she saw that on their faces as they took in the group standing outside the castle. It was Fergus, tall and broad shouldered, who called the Order. Her sons, three in a row, Hubert and Hamish tall and proud, Harris slightly smaller—stood next to their father, swords in hand. 
“Half you lot with me! The other half, to the castle!” He turned to face his family. There was no recognition that she could see in his blue eyes before his face twisted and he started after them. 
“Merida, not—not your brothers,” she said breathlessly to her daughter. “We—we should draw them around to the back of the castle…can try to…meet with the others.” As she said it, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to move. The sword in her hand lay like dead weight with the point pressing into the earth.
MERIDA: In battle, there was no time to think. Maybe that’s why she liked it so much. You had to trust yourself instead. You had to believe that you knew what you were doing and that you’d do it right. Merida moved with that confidence and trust as she laced another arrow and sent it flying into the neck of an oncoming Order man, not even sure who it was. But she nailed the target the way she always nailed the target, and her bow was not empty for long. Another arrow kissed the nocking point. She pointed it toward the onslaught, right at her father. When her blue eyes met his own– that was when she hesitated. That was when the thoughts crept in. She had to shoot her father. She couldn’t shoot her father. She was rather certain she could shoot her father more than she could shoot the triplets, who clambered around him, eyes wide in fright– none of them ready for battle, though Hubert was makin’ a show he was. Why the hell had Da even dragged them here?! She could talk of strategy all day long, but seeing the wee lads, their arms skinny as cypress branches holding weapons they did not know how to trust, not the way that Merida trusted her bow– she couldn’t believe Fergus had gone through with strategy over safety. That he’d endanger his three boys, his fookin’ heirs– all so Merida and Elinor  might hesitate. It worked. She hesitated. Fergus charged. “Shite,” Merida cursed and she unnocked her bow, grabbing Elinor by the arm. “COME ON!” She bellowed, at the same time that Fergus bellowed his own command to attack. She dragged her mother into a fast pace. They weaved through the hedges, having the advantage of knowing where they were bloody going. “ELINOR! IT’S NOT TOO LATE!” Fergus shouted from behind them. “THEY’LL FORGIVE YE. LEAVE HER BEHIND.” They. The Order. Her, his daughter. “Tch! What a nyaff!” Merida growled. “I should bite him! See how he likes it!” She wouldn’t. Fergus was too honorable to ever live as a werewolf. 
ELINOR: They ran. Elinor was fit. She went for walks, even a jog here or there. Before coming to Swynlake she’d been an avid equestrian and hiker. The outdoors had always been a place of refuge for her. 
But she’d never run like this. Their feet squelched along the ground, Merida’s hand a vice. Her lungs burned as they twisted through the hedge maze and she was sure that they might burst. She was grateful for the days she’d spent out here, pruning all alone, learning the maze. And she was grateful for the Swynlakers who had come to help clean. It meant they only tripped over half the debris they would have either. 
Elinor squeezed her eyes shut against Fergus’ shouting, wishing she could give him a piece of her mind. If this could just be settled by one of their famous rows, wouldn’t that be enough. 
“Ach, Merida,” she still managed to tsk despite her panting. “You’re not biting your father.”
They ran a bit more. “Turn here, it’ll lead to the back door of the castle, eh? We can’t face them alone. We’ve gotta find Phil or John.”
Or maybe they could just lose them in the castle’s winding pathways and corridors. Then, they could be someone else’s problem. (Though, Elinor’s heart was aching to see her boys again.) 
MERIDA: Merida didn’t want to find Phil and John! 
She didn’t want to leave her mess for another person to handle. She also didn’t want to fight her siblings though, so– crivvens, fine, they’d find Phil and John! At least they’d not kill the boys. They could probably knock Hubert’s sword out of his hands and toss ‘em all in one of the castle’s closets, where they’d be grumpy but safe. (Then again, Harris had always been a bit of an escape artist. They’d need to tie ‘em all down for good measure!)
She obeyed Elinor, for once not arguing. There was no time to argue. She cut into the courtyard and then there, the castle door! 
She opened it and rushed inside. They made it through the mudroom and into the kitchen and then Merida heard the shouting from deep within. 
“Shite, they sent more men around the front! They’re already in here,” said Merida and she turned–
But Fergus burst through the door. They couldn’t go back into the garden.
They’d meet more Order men if they kept goin’ through.
“Up the stairs!” Merida cried, hoping to use the servant stairwell. She needed to get her mam somewhere– safer than this. 
ELINOR: They burst into the kitchen—Elinor’s beautiful kitchen that she’d just gotten properly cleaned!—muddy boots skidding on the floor. The urge to yell: take off your boots, oach! rose in here ridiculously. She ignored it.
She did not, however, ignore the urge to yell at the sight of her ex-husband, the boys piling behind his large frame, eyes wide. “Fergus DunBroch! What are—“ 
But Merida’s hand was an iron grip in hers and she was already gone, fast and nimble. Elinor tripped after her. 
There was the clank of swords behind her as her ex-husband and sons gave chase. Elinor managed a quick prayer of thanks that this was Best castle and not Cawdor, which the triplets knew better than the mice in the walls. 
Up the stairs they went. Up and up, turning this way and that, the rest of their broken family only steps behind, like hounds chasing deer through the wood. (Merida would probably not like the comparison, but it felt apt. Elinor certainly felt like a deer: delicate, terrified.)
Eventually even the servant’s quarters ended and they were dumped out into a large, circular room. Elinor had never been in it. She had no idea where they were, only that it smelled damp from the slitted windows that had never been fashioned with glass. That would need to be done at some point, she couldn’t help but note for the ever-running to do list in her head—
Just as Fergus and the boys burst into the room as well. 
They were trapped. Elinor glanced at Merida, still holding her daughter’s hand tightly. Then, she took a breath and drew herself up to her full height. 
“Fergus! Boys!” It had been a long time since she’d used that tone and for a moment, it was all she could say, overcome by the sight of her children and her children overcome by the sight of her. It had been a year since she’d seen them last. They’d grown so tall. Hubert and Harris almost at the height of their father’s shoulder, Hamish just behind. Hubert’s face was covered in an outbreak of pimples, Harris had a small, pink scar only a mother would notice beneath one of his eyes. He must’ve gotten it in training. It gave his always sharp gaze a more wizened appearance. 
“You—“ she started, still not sure what she was going to say until the words were out of her mouth “—need to leave.” 
“Ma—“ That was Hubert. 
“Just give up the wolf, woman. Then this’ll all be over,” Fergus said. 
Hubert and Fergus glowered at Merida. Hamish was looking wide-eyed at his father. Harris’ gaze stayed steady on Elinor. 
Elinor stepped in front of Merida, not raising her sword. Yet. She didn’t know if she would be able to, against her own children. That was what got her into this mess in the first place, wasn’t it? 
“No.” 
MERIDA: In her years living in Best Castle, she’d never arrived in this room either. The castle was not something she’d ever wanted to explore. It reminded her too much of the home she’d never return to after all– and in all its brokenness and unfinished pieces, she had heard her mam’s voice, and always walked the other way– straight out the door and into the woods, where Merida had always felt much more at home. 
She cursed herself now for her cowardice. Because she’d led them into a dead end and now when she whirled around, the DunBrochs were trapped in one place for the first time in years. 
Fergus. Elinor. Merida. Harris. Hubert. Hamish. 
Merida’s eyes darted from man to boy. There was a volcanic pressure in her chest that wanted to erupt and turn into something– something like tears, something like shouting, something like begging her Da to look at her (he wasn’t looking at her), something like runnin’ cross the room to gather the wee ones into her arms, smother them with sloppy kisses and noogies for those unruly red curls. 
Instead, Merida drew her own sword. 
“Elinor,” said Da then, those big, blue eyes soft and watery. He spread his arms on either side, so his sword was no longer pointed forward. “Please. She is not your family. We are your family.” 
“Can ye just shut up, already?” Merida barked from behind. “Mam’s not the one trying to kill anyone!” 
“Da…” squeaked Hamish. “S-she looks the same…” 
“Of course I do! I am the same!” 
“It’s a trick,” said Hubert. He was frowning, but he had the most solid stance. “That’s how shifters are.”
“Exactly, boys. She killed your sister.” Fergus’s brow furrowed. He pointed the sword again, now at Merida. “My daughter.” 
“If that’s true, I would’ve killed Mam too. I’d’ve already ripped all of ye apart,” said Merida. “But– I’m not–” 
And she tossed her sword down. “I won’t! So just– gah, I can’t believe I’m sayin’ it, but can we all just talk it out?” 
The tension in the room doubled as the triplets shifted their stance– but otherwise didn’t move. Fergus readjusted the grip on his sword. 
“Mam,” murmured Merida, inching closer to her. She had always been better with words. 
ELINOR: Merida’s sword clang to the ground, but Elinor just readjusted the grip on hers, mirroring her ex-husband. She wasn’t going to leave them unarmed. Elinor wouldn’t raise a blade against her children, but if it came down to it: she’d run Fergus through. 
Or she’d try, at the very least. 
“He doesn’t want to talk, Merida,” Elinor said with a scornful glance at Fergus. “If he did--we wouldn’t be in this mess.” 
If he had ever wanted to talk--about anything, maybe they wouldn’t be in this mess. But talking about Merida--or not talking about Merida--was just another mistake in the grand scheme of Elinor’s life. Of Elinor’s marriage. Her and Fergus had never talked about anything. They existed in uneasy peace, Fergus behind a wall, Elinor a beautiful vase, set out on the table to be admired.
She had shattered long ago and now all those ugly, horrible parts of herself spilled out. And Fergus had crumbled too, his parts even uglier and more horrible. Because at least Elinor was a good mother. Or she tried to be. She wanted to be. 
“I don’t want to talk to a beast in the shape of my daughter,” Fergus snarled. “Isn’t it painful, Elinor? To look at her and think about our baby girl?” 
Elinor felt her heart burn. “No, because she’s right here.”
“She’s tricked you! You just--cannae see it, my love. Come, the boys miss you. We miss you.” 
“Mam, please, come home.” That was Hubert. He had come here looking the most sure but when he spoke some of that toughness cracked and she saw the little boy beneath, who needed his mother. 
“Hugh,” she said. “You don’t have to fight me. Either of us. We aren’t hurting anyone. The Order only takes care of people who are hurting others.” 
“She’s right,” Harris said in his characteristic, analytic way.
“Ach! Can’t you see? She’s just trying to protect the beast, who isn’t weak at all. If it didnae suit her to look weak, to look like your sister, she’d be maulin’ you right here on the floor!” 
“Stop!” Elinor snapped, feeling an anger as black as the fur of her bear begin to rise in her chest. It made her dizzy and her sword tip dropped into the dirt, her wrist limp against the weight of the metal. She took a deep breath. 
“Mam?” Hamish murmured, echoed by Harris, all three of the boys looking at her wearily. 
“I’m fine, boys. I just--I wish you would listen to me. No one is going to hurt you here. I love you. Merida loves you.” 
MERIDA: Merida had forgotten about the bear.
She often did. Because the bear and Elinor were opposites in Merida’s eyes. Elinor was regal, composed, graceful, and elegant– everything that Merida could never be. The bear, though, was a beast– snarly, ugly, intent on destruction. Only when her Mam’s wrist dropped and she took a deep breath did all those warning signs set off the alarm in Merida’s head. Shite. They couldn’t have the bear makin’ a royal appearance, not today. She wasn’t even sure Fergus knew the bear existed. It certainly wouldn’t help their case. 
C’mon, Mam, stay calm, she urged in her own brain. Which meant she needed to stay calm too. 
Funny, innit? How Merida, in this moment, found her own center in the middle of a storm.
She took a step forward, though still behind Elinor. She raised her hands in surrender, though it was just a gesture. “Listen to me,” she said, trying to make her voice smooth and calm. She only looked at her brothers. All the years she’d been away flashed in front of her. They’d all gotten so much taller, all looked so different– not just from her own memory, but from each other. She’d always been able to tell them apart, by the way they wore their expressions so differently on their faces. But now they each wore the Order too, and she could see the way it changed them– or wanted to change them. 
Hubert, who had adopted Fergus’s confident snarl. Harris, who preferred not to look bothered at all. Hamish– who was worried. He kept lookin’ at Mam the most. It all broke Merida’s heart. 
 “I– I’m sorry,” Merida blurted. She was still trying to stay calm, but tears peppered her eyes. “I’m sorry, alright, that I got bit. I failed all of ye– I broke our family. I know I did, but I never wanted to. If I could go back, I would, in a second. I’d give up me wolf.” It hurt to say at this point, but in the face of her kin, she yearned for their raucous dinners, the camping trips, even the arguments that didn’t end with swords pointed at each other’s throats. 
“But I can’t go back. All I can do is fix it the way I am. So I’m sorry, and I– I swear I’m still me. Give me a chance to prove it to ye. That’s all I want, just a chance.” 
“Shut yer maw, beast,” growled Fergus, threatening as thunder. 
But Merida could see– in Hamish’s eyes at least– even more hesitation. 
“Mam,” said Hamish, as his brow crumpled further. He took another step toward Elinor as he began to lower the sword. “Y-you trust her?” 
“Hamish!” Fergus snapped. “Back to your position, boy!” 
ELINOR: Elinor’s heart broke for her daughter. It had broken so many times over the past years that she wasn’t even sure where all the pieces were anymore. Scattered about Cawdor Castle. Dropped deep in the lochs of Scotland. With Fergus, with her children--both living and dead. 
But the way Merida spoke now…it made Elinor furious. She wanted to claw Fergus’ eyes out of his blasted head. She didn’t need the bear’s anger, she had the anger of a mother. How could Fergus look at their daughter and see a beast? How could he look at her and see anything other than a scared girl, who wanted her family back, who blamed herself for all of this? Elinor wanted to turn to her and cradle her face in her hands, kiss her all over her freckles, the way she used to do when Merida was small. She couldn’t do that. Now was not the time. 
Instead, she just reached back and touched Merida’s hand, hoping that the gesture would help. Even just a little bit. 
Her eyes snapped toward Hamish as he moved towards her. Sweet Hamish. He was just as brave as his brothers, just in a different way. Elinor smiled at him, tears in her eyes. 
“Yes, baby,” she coaxed, ignoring Fergus. “I’ve lived with her all this time. And she’s just like you all remember. Worse, even. She’s more bold and brash than ever, but she loves you all. We both do.” 
Hamish glanced at his father, who was glowering. “Don’t take another step.” 
It was Harris who moved then, coming up behind his brother and putting a hand on his shoulder. His mouth was set in a pale, straight line; his eyes gave nothing away. They never did. He looked so pale, skinnier than his brothers. Was he eating alright? Was he sick? Elinor wanted to gather all of them into her arms, even Hubert--who was still sneering, a mirror image of his father. 
Hamish looked back at Harris uncertainly, not sure if his brother was going to pull him back or urge him on. Elinor suspected that Harris wasn’t quite sure either. 
“We--should hear them out,” Harris finally said evenly. 
MERIDA: Yes, Merida had broken her family. But maybe she really could fix it.
Her heart stuttered twice as fast as she saw the opportunity rise from her words. The fear had faded from her brothers’ eyes. They were thinking twice– at least with Harris, this made sense. He was always one to think twice; his pranks benefited from that, always twice as clever and annoying as anything straightforward Hubert or silly Hamish could dream up. She needed him to use that brain now, to sway her brothers’ minds if not their hearts. She could take care of that last step. But just fill in the cracks– give them all something solid to stand on!
She saw it happening. And for all the years she’d spent in Swynlake, and the small steps she’d taken to become more of the community again… only now did she see her redemption, here, with her brothers. 
Even Hubert was hesitating now, his line of sight darting around frantically. She understood that confusion even better than Hamish’s longing for peace, Harris’s calm pragmatism. She could be the one to turn Hubert now too. 
“Hugh,” she addressed him. “C’mon. Just– an hour. An hour and then if ye want to kick me ass, ye can. Though I won’t make it easy on ye.” 
Hubert breathed a little harder. He looked at Harris–
Harris nodded.
Hubert started to lower this sword–
“NO!” Fergus roared and what happened next happened in a blur. Her father barrelled forward and he aimed his sword straight for Merida’s heart. 
The wolf inside her cried out and wanted to burst from her skin. But the magic drain had created a cavern inside of Merida it could not jump over. Merida’s eyes widened and she did something she never did–
She froze. 
ELINOR: There wasn’t a moment of thought. 
One moment, Elinor was smiling at her sons, who she hadn’t seen in a whole year, her heart lifting at the possibility of her family, her children, coming back to her--
The next: a large, black bear was roaring loud enough to shake the stones as scraps of fabric drifted down to the ground like petals. On its back haunches, the bear reached almost to the ceiling. The room they were in was small, with its hulking mass everyone scrambled backwards. The sword that had been coming for Merida diverted as the bear’s large paw knocked into the man’s shoulder, sending him sprawling to the side.
There was a shout and Hubert rushed forward. The bear fell down onto its front paws and it roared again, eyes flashing. Hubert stopped in his tracks. Even in the heat of the summer, the bear’s breath blew in a warm, white cloud, fogging Hubert’s sword. The bear’s ears twitched, staring at the boy, but not making any other move. There was a strange, familiar smell in this place. No enemies--
The bear’s hesitation gave Fergus just enough time to scramble to his feet.
“Oi! You demon! You beast! Leave my boy alone!” The man charged again, the sword slashing against the bear’s shoulder. 
She turned with a snarl and knocked the man across the face this time with a paw larger than his head. The man, stunned, stumbled backwards towards the low set window that was letting in a dusty grey stream of light. For a moment, it looked as if he was just going to brace himself against the glass but as his hand reached out to steady himself, the brittle, ancient glass gave way. Fergus lost his footing on the slippery, dry hay that littered the floor and before anyone could do anything about it--
He fell from the window, disappearing from sight. All that was left were the dust mites that danced in the air in the place disturbed. 
MERIDA: Thunder shook the castle.
Except that it wasn’t thunder– it was a beastly roar that bellowed from the chest of a hulking brown bear. Merida was on the floor. She’d stumbled back when Elinor transformed. Her eyes were blasted wide as she stared up at Elinor, stretched to her full height, all fangs and fur and claws. “Mam!” she cried out, but she could not stop what was coming next. For there was a storm in the castle, and it was Elinor’s fury. Nothing had ever been able to slow her mother down. 
And so Merida’s father charged. 
Elinor’s mother attacked.
Merida launched herself toward her brothers. She got her hands on Harris and Hamish, who had been next together and still were. She dragged them back, but she could not stop them from seeing Fergus plunge out the window.
“DA!” her brothers all screamed at once.It was too late though. There was only broken glass where he had stood, glinting like diamonds in the sun.  
The bear swung her head to look at her children, all crying and screaming. 
Merida had no reason to believe Elinor wouldn’t come after them next. Especially as Hubert scrambled ‘cross the floor for a sword. 
“NO!” she shouted at him. “RUN! RUN, NOW!” 
She shoved her brothers toward the door. They stumbled out. And Merida slammed the door behind ‘em, not sure how long that would hold Elinor’s fury.
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prince--thomas · 2 years
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The Hunter, Home from the Hill ~~ [Mermas + Elinor]
@heart-of-dunbroch
Tom had trekked out to the castle in the woods. He’d never been there before. When he’d been--on his mission, they had avoided it because they knew the wolf would know if they’d been there. It had been easier to draw Merida out to the Acherons. Just thinking this as he made his way there made his stomach churn. He had no idea if Merida, or even Aunt Elinor, would listen to him. He was hoping that if it wasn’t for him, they’d at least do it for the bairn.
Or the wolf could tear his throat out before he even got a word out. As he pushed the rusting gate open and it creaked loudly, he realized he could’ve called ahead, but he didn’t want them to say no before he’d even had a chance to say his piece. 
It wasn’t even that he wanted to ask forgiveness. Well, he did. He wanted more than anything to as forgiveness, but he knew he probably shouldn’t. What he had done wasn’t forgivable. It felt ironic, honestly, to think how he’d lost both his family in the Order and his family that had already managed to escape it all in one slash of his sword.
It wasn’t any more than he deserved. He probably deserved to be buried in the dirt right now. Not probably. Certainly. 
And yet, here he was. Standing in front of the large, oak door reaching up to knock. 
He stepped back just as the door opened. 
“Tom?” His aunt’s expression went from surprised to guarded as she wiped her hands on a towel. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Aye, I know.” He raised his hands slightly in a defensive gesture. “I dunnae have any weapons. I just--came to talk. Please. It is important.” 
Aunt Elinor looked uncertain. 
“I have information about the Order lurking,” Tom tried again.
“Very well.” Elinor moved stiffly away from the door, letting him in and closing it behind him. “Go to the sitting room.” She gestured to the right. “I will fetch Merida.” 
Tom nodded and moved to the sitting room, just as he heard his aunt’s footsteps retreating up the stairs. “Merida!” he heard from the hallway and despite himself, he felt his lip twitch in a smile. “Get down here!” He sat down in one of the plush seats, then thought better of it and stood, moving to the fireplace and setting about building a fire. 
[outfit]
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mamabear-elinor · 2 years
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Fate Be Changed -> [Howlinor]
@oh-heartlessman, @heart-of-dunbroch, @labellerose-acheron
Elinor was not happy with this arrangement. She didn’t trust this sorcerer and she knew that Belle didn’t trust her. She was coming to resent the maroon couches in Belle’s living room. All they every spoke about was magic on them. Nothing else. 
The DunBrochs had arrived slightly ahead of Howl, so they were settling in. Belle had graciously made tea (at least she had manners in one aspect, thought Elinor to herself.) She perched in front of the fireplace, glowing with mysterious blue flame, her back to it and a warm mug of tea in her hands. The babies were no where in sight, which Elinor was not thrilled about, as the babies were a very good distraction form the curse that lurked in her bones. 
There was nothing for that, though, as there was a knock at the door, Belle scurrying over to grab it, wrapping her golden cardigan around herself. The two exchanged suspicious, murmured words before Belle popped up to kiss the wizard’s cheeks. 
Elinor made a little face, even though she was trying to be gracious. A demon, a werewolf, and now a flashy sorcerer? No wonder the Order had been after this girl. Elinor wasn’t saying they were right but--it made sense. (Also, they could’ve   been right, only time would tell.) 
As Howl and Belle came back, Belle went to her spot in front of the eerie fire. “Elinor,” --Elinor was still not used to having her proper named called by such a child, especially because she was sure she could hear sarcastic bitterness. “--this is Howl Pendragon. Howl, this is Elinor DunBroch.” 
“How do you do?” she answered, stiff but with the guise of manners that had been taught to her over decades. “You can cure it then?”
[outfit]
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mamabear-elinor · 3 years
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Bear With Me -> [Brave Women]
@heart-of-dunbroch​
It had taken the better part of a week to find where her daughter was holed up. And the better part of the day to actually make it there. That was not because the directions she had been given were wrong, or because it was a particularly long journey. It was because Elinor took her time. These were strange woods to her and she knew a thing or two about strange woods. Especially enchanted forests like this one. One must always be on their guard, never stray from the path, and always be prepared for trouble.
And--she was also stalling.
For it may’ve taken the better part of a week to find Merida, but it had taken the better part of two years to gather the courage to start searching in the first place. There was a shame that came with something like that. She could hardly explain it and she knew there was no justification. As she walked, she prepared herself for Merida’s fury at something like that. Her daughter had always been about loyalty and Elinor knew what kind of betrayal that was: Elinor was loyal too. 
So, she was trying to tell herself that this wasn’t the joyful, tearful reunion that Elinor’s heart yearned for. All that mattered was that Elinor laid eyes on her daughter. Saw that she was alive and well. And kept her in one place long enough to tell her that the Golden Trio was hunting her. After that--
Well, Elinor didn’t know. 
Eventually, she could stall no longer and she made it to the gates of the castle. She took a moment to observe them. Wrought iron, but rusted and flaking. Clearly not taken care of. They looked to be 19th century, though the walls surrounding the castle appeared older--and crumbling.
Elinor frowned, but pushed gently through the gates. They did not squeal, so at least there was that. The cobbled walkway up to the main entrance of the castle was covered in a layer of leaves and overgrown with weeds and she felt an emotion that she had not felt in several years. Annoyance. The annoyance of a mother whose child had not cleaned up after herself. Again. 
At the door, she raised the iron knocker and knocked three times before stepping back and crossing her arms against the chilly spring breeze. Or her own insecurities. She took a deep breath, calming her heart as she waited for the door to open.
When it finally did, Elinor let out her breath and immediately blinked away tears.
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“Merida,” she said, “a bhobain.” 
[outfit!]
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mamabear-elinor · 3 years
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Change This Cursed Fate -> [Brave Women feat. Belle]
@heart-of-dunbroch
Elinor was back in the quaint cottage on the edge of town. And, somehow, she felt even more uncomfortable than she had before. Strange, considering the werewolf and the demon man were no where to be found. This time it was just the women and the children. A demographic that Elinor was not only familiar with, but usually entirely comfortable around.
And, despite their father being a demon(?), the children were precious  as they sat in their playpen. She would put them somewhere between 9 months and not quite a year. When she had first arrived, she had asked, but Belle had simply ignored her, declaring she was going to set the kettle on. Elinor had looked at Merida, who had only shrugged. Her daughter wouldn’t know the date anyway, though Elinor wasn’t sure she’d tell her if she did. 
Instead, she just settled awkwardly on one of the lovely leather chairs in deep maroon. Merida had settled on the couch and it wasn’t a second later that the toddler had come charging at her. Growling and spitting, swinging her arms so wildly that Elinor almost didn’t catch the sight of the hot pink cast on her arm. 
There were more questions, but this time, Elinor knew better than to ask. She had gotten a very angry, very brief update on that whole...situation from her daughter. It was...confusing to see the evidence now. She couldn’t bring herself to think that any of those chivalrous, lovely boys she knew could have harmed a child. It didn’t make sense to her. 
So, she just sat with her lips pressed firmly together, watching as Opal climbed all over Merida. It reminded Elinor of her boys, when Merida used to play with them. She wondered if Merida missed her brothers, but shot that thought down quickly, as it was far too painful.
Belle came back over with a tray of tea, setting it down silently on the table before pouring her own glass. It was rather rude she didn’t offer to pour Elinor’s, but Elinor held her tongue as she leaned forward to pour herself a cup, feeling a bit better with the mug in her hands. 
“So,” Belle started, glancing at Merida before looking at Elinor. “You turned into a bear?” 
“Allegedly,” Elinor replied primly. 
“How did it happen?”
“I don’t know.” She bristled. “That’s why we are here.” 
[elinor’s outfit] [belle’s outfit]
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prince--thomas · 3 years
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Sword Upon Our Hearts [Part Four: In Your Heart Shall Burn] ~~ [The Golden Brio feat. Loud Bell and Merida]
In which the Golden Brio carry out the mission they’ve been sent to Swynlake for...[takes place: August 3, 2021]
@captain--john, @knightley--phillip, @heart-of-dunbroch​, @trip-downtheriverstyx​, @labellerose-acheron​, @lou-bonfightme​
[tw -- thoughts of murder, plots of murder, violence, lil bit of gore, burning]
BELLE: The hounds alerted them from the garden as dusk drew once more over the Acheron cottage. Shuck was on his feet in an instant as snarling sounded from outside. Belle, Merida, and Toulouse, who had been sitting around the table together feeding the children dinner, looked at each other for just a moment. There was a cool stillness that settled, Belle’s blood turning to ice in her veins. She wished, in a feeling as sharp and fast as a lightning strike, that Hades was home. But there wasn’t time to worry about him. It was the children who needed to be protected.
They had a plan, Belle reminded herself in that split second moment. They had several plans, for every possible scenario that they could think of. That was what having all this time had given them. She grasped onto the details tight: no matter what, but especially if Hades was gone (because there was a good chance, they would try to separate him from the rest), Belle was to take the children up to the secret office to hide until someone came to fetch her. Whether that be Hades, Toulouse, or Howl—who were the only ones who knew how to open it. Lou would guard the back door, Merida the front, with hounds at their sides. Shuck would be with Belle, just in case something went wrong, and she couldn’t get to the room in time, or the Order broke through their defenses.
Of course, Belle had her own plan: there was no way she was hiding while the rest of her family was fighting to protect them. She could fight now. At least, against the Order. They were simple Mundus, like herself. And if they could do it, so could she. But she kept this to herself after she had been shut down originally. Though her intentions still bubbled inside of her.
And as the chaos crashed into the house, as that single moment of trepidation broke, Belle knew what she had to do.
Lou disappeared in one movement, the wolf bursting from his skin and taking over by the time its paws touched the ground. Merida picked up Bellamy as Belle knelt in front of Opal, whose cast scratched against her collarbone uncomfortably as she climbed onto her mother’s back. With Opal clinging tight, Belle could scoop up Aidan and follow Merida into the hall. Her legs felt like jelly. As if Opal weighed a hundred pounds more than she did. Her heart was beating thready and fast. It felt like it took them centuries to get to the stairs, as if Belle was wading through a swamp.  
When they made it, Merida wordlessly handed Bellamy to her as well. This way, Belle had all three of the children, which was a heavy weight. She looked toward the stairs and braced herself before carefully beginning to climb. It was a good thing that she had spent the last few months in the gym rather frequently with Merida. Not to mention the adrenaline coursing through her.
She heard the front door open and then close, and she realized she was alone in the house. Shuck squeezed behind her on the stairs, his head in the small of her back and she let out a breath, pushing forward. By the time she was in the secret office, she was panting and trembling somewhat. Setting Bellamy and Aidan down in the play pen, she kissed both their foreheads, then Opal’s too. She handed her daughter one of her favourite books.
“Read this to your brothers,” she told her, kissing her daughter’s soft hair. “I love you. Maman will be right back, alright?”
“Okay, Maman. Love you.”
“That’s a brave girl.”
It was time for Belle to be brave too. She reached for her sword which she kept in the office (away from any accidents with the children.) Unsheathing it, she glanced at the hellhound, who sat patiently by the door. “Stay,” she told him. He whined once. “Protect the children.”
With that, she took a breath and then stepped back out into Hades’ bedroom, her grip firm and her eyes darting around the room. From inside the house, she couldn’t hear anything at all. It was horribly quiet. Belle took a few more steps, holding her sword out in front of her. She adjusted her grip a few times. And then, there was a creak on the steps. Belle drew back, her breathing shallow as pressed against a bookshelf. In the long shadows of dusk, her own was hidden from view, but she could see another one on the wall, creeping toward her.
There was a decision to make here. Merida had once told her that fights were made up of a million decisions—like chess, but faster. More instinct than strategy. Which was Belle’s weakness in a fight. She always wanted to hesitate or examine all of the options. In this scenario, there were two: wait, and surprise whoever this was or charge and try to gain the high ground by forcing them back against the stairs.
If she waited, the element of surprise would be sure. If she charged, she had no idea if she had the skill or the strength to fight off whoever it was. To put them on the defense. But, if she stayed here, she would be trapped and forced to fight anyway—
It was too late to make a decision. The assailant was already on top of her. Belle saw the toe of his boot and her body reacted. Her arms jerked up, trying to slash him upwards from below with a shout. Merida had always told her to use her height to her advantage, most men—especially in the Order—weren’t used to fighting someone as petite as she was.
PHILLIP: Phillip did not expect Belle Acheron to come at him with a sword.
The surprise only lasted a fraction of a second, though. He actually laughed a little, easily blocking her weapon with his own, the metal clashing. After that moment of shock passed, he grit his teeth together, pressing forward. He loomed nearly a foot over Belle and even though she’d caught him by surprise with the sword — must’ve been a gift from Merida or something — he had years of experience. He’d been training ever since he could walk, perhaps even before then, the Order sharpening him into a deadly weapon to wield for their own purposes. 
Phillip did not want to do this.
Phillip had to do this.
Phillip had to do this, because as he and John and Thomas stalked closer to the house, all he could think about was losing them. He did not want to do this, but he couldn’t imagine a life without John and Tom at his side. They had to do this, or else Tom’s mum and sisters wouldn’t be safe, or else their little nieces and nephews would be targets, or else John’s father would hurt him even more. Phillip was doing this not because he wanted to cleanse the world of wolves and demons, but because if he didn’t do this, he would lose John and Tom, maybe forever. 
That didn’t make it any easier.
At least this time there were no children to be seen. That would help him focus, at least. Never mind that he actually did quite like Belle and never mind that he’d seen half-finished dinner plates on the dining table.
“Your form’s not bad,” said Phillip. He basically had her cornered now and with a flick of his wrist, dislodged the sword from her hand. It clattered to the floor and he held his own sword up to her neck. “But your strategy needs work. Sort of stuff you can only get with years and years of experience, though.”
He stepped forward, the tip of his sword pointed to the wall, and swept an arm behind Belle so he could grab her arms with his left hand. Sword still pressed against her neck, he coaxed her forward.
“This’ll be over quickly if you all cooperate,” he said, trying to talk to remind himself why the fuck he was here in the first place. He did not want to think about the children, probably somewhere in the house, or the little cat he’d seen once. “My friends work fast.” 
MERIDA:  For the past couple of weeks, she’d practically been living at the Acherons. Whenever Hades wasn’t there, Merida stepped in. She went where Belle did, a loyal hound at her heel, always on alert. As the days wore on though, she knew the attack would be much more thoroughly planned than the last one-- and the last had been impressive as is. 
The Trio was watching. They were learning. They would soon memorize even these new patterns and figure out the most vulnerable time to attack. 
Merida told all of this to Belle, Hades, and Lou, and with each day that passed, the probability spiked. 
So when the snarling and howling began, Merida was ready. 
She jumped into action. Merida gathered little, sweet Bellamy in her arms and sped with Belle toward the stairs. She wished she could go up with her-- had argued this part of the plan, thought that she would be best used as another wall of defense, smarter and stronger than a hellhound. But the goal was to try to keep that extra wall from being necessary. And so as she handed off Bellamy, Merida followed her orders. She could do that for Belle. She was her warrior-- her sword-- her shield. 
And so Merida flung open the door, closed it behind her and drew her sword. 
She wasn’t surprised to see Tom emerge from the wood, fighting off one of the hounds. Merida’s eyes lit and she raced toward him. Attack him on both sides. Sure, her cousin would dispatch the hound, but Merida would make it harder on him. 
“Miss me, Tommy?!” She snarled as she lunged at him with a wild swing of her sword. 
THOMAS: It was time to get this over with, so that Tom could leave and never have to think of this place again.
That was how he felt, because there was no other way to feel. The inevitability of what would happen here had weighed on him for weeks. He would not be able to open in his role as Sky. He would leave behind Arista, Elliot, and his other friends. Swynlake would become another bad dream (it had given him plenty already, hadn’t it?) All it was was a place of misery. There would be nothing good here for him. It was a good thing then, to get this finished. To move on.
Then why did his steps feel so heavy as they marched toward the Acherons’ cottage? He didn’t dignify the question with an answer. Instead, he adjusted his sword in his grip and whistled sharp to get the attention of one of the hellhounds that he knew prowled around the house. There were two. Well, three all together, but one never left Belle’s side and they had figured in case of a fight, that would still be the case. 
He heard John’s answering whistle a few meters away where he was tucked in the trees near the garden. The hellhounds peeled apart, as they had assumed, when they realized the assailants were in two places. 
Next, Phil and Tom made their way to the front. Tom would head off whatever protection was there, while John distracted from the back--and Phil, slippery, cunning Phil, would find Belle. She was the hinge upon which the entire strategy swung. After all, if they could not easily dispatch the two werewolves or Hades somehow got free of the assault they had planned for him (doubtful, but they would not underestimate him again), she would be their bargaining chip to lay their weapons down. She was a Mundus. Harmless. And not their target anyway. She would live. As long as the rest of them complied. 
Tom did not think about that. He had to focus on the hellhound coming towards him. 
Adjusting the bucket of water in his hands, he waited steadily for the hound to lunge--
It was a simple trick, but when the demon met the water, it yelped and steamed, disoriented and weakened. In this state, it would not be able to jump through smoke. At least for a few moments, before it's hellfire evaporated the fire. It gave him just enough time to go at it with the sword. The hound lunged and snapped, but he managed to keep it away, his calf throbbing--not fully healed from its last encounter with a hellhound. 
He managed to make it halfway up the yard before Merida appeared and came at him with her sword. For a moment, Tom hesitated. It took just a flash of bright red hair. Merida’s voice echoing across the field. She was as human as ever: face flushed, eyes ablaze. 
Tom had prepared to meet the teeth of a beast, not the fury of his cousin. 
He didn’t say anything to her. If he could avoid it, he wouldn’t even look at her. 
Their swords meet in a dull clash of metal. She was strong and fast and angry, but Tom was determined and trained. He danced to the side, slashing at her and the hound in one swoop. Then, his sword arched back up to parry her next blow, pushing her back towards the house. He threw his weight behind it, knocking her backwards and then turning on his heel to catch the charging hellhound in the belly as it jumped at him again, barking and snarling, its mouth the pit of hell, sparks flying, setting a dry patch of grass aflame and catching on Tom’s shirt.
He shoved harder, twisting his sword. The demon yelped, sounding like Gilly when he accidentally stepped on her tail, and then dissolved. It gave him just enough time to swing back at Merida as she regained her balance and came at him again. 
Her sword slashed across the top of his shoulder and he grunted before slashing right back at her, doing whatever he could not to meet her gaze. Those DunBroch eyes the same as his own.
TOULOUSE: Toulouse was getting extremely sick of this.
He knew that being a werewolf was dangerous, but he had never thought of it this way. The danger coming to his family. To the children. To people who should not at all be involved in any of it. He had tried to leave. His solution to everything: running. But Hades and Belle had not let him. Guilted him into staying. Into helping protect their family. 
But Toulouse was not good at protecting anyone. He could hardly protect his brother and sister from the cruelty of the world. How was he supposed to protect Belle and Hades and the children from crazy, albeit well-trained, assholes hell bent on destroying them? He had absolutely no confidence that he could.
It was a good thing that the wolf. The wolf sure and confident in its every move. It was the wolf that took over as soon as the hellhounds started braying. 
Out in the garden, the ground was wet from a shower that had fallen earlier in the day. His paws sunk into the earth. A hellhound appeared at his side and John appeared in front of him.
Enemy, supplied the wolf. 
Toulouse growled, his black lips pulling back in a snarl. And he didn’t hesitate to lunge directly at the man, looking to knock him right off his feet and get his jaw around his throat. 
JOHN: This felt wrong. 
His brain wracked through days of trying to find another way. To find some way that they could get out of this and not face the wrath of the Order. But it was too late. They had made their move, albeit not because they had intended to, but they had already started the war with their botched battle. They had to end this.
His burns still itched, it would still be a while until they didn’t. A constant reminder of how stupid he’d been taking on Hades Archeron like that. His long sleeves covered the bandages up his arms but they wrapped around his hands as well. He fought through the discomfort for hours in practice to make sure he could wield a sword for this day.
He had to do this. Despite how much he hated every bit of what Francis had done to him, how he had spoken to his mates. He had to do this. This was the last thing and then he was done. He hadn’t told the lads yet, but he couldn’t do this anymore. He was done doing the Order’s dirty work. He was done doing everything and yet getting nothing in return, being branded some kind of fuck up. He wasn’t going to do this anymore. 
They’d come up with a three pronged plan for the attack. Phil and Tom were executing their sides well. He could already tell by the whistle and the clash of swords. But John had other things to deal with, he wasn’t up for facing the women wielding their swords in this, not with how his hands were. But he could attack the dogs and any other dogs that might come their way.
He and Tom had planned to take the hounds out by splitting them. And as luck would have it, it worked, but John hadn’t expected his rotten luck with animals to also immediately grab the attention of a very large wolf, one that he’d seen before and stabbed at before fleeing in the last bout. Toulouse. 
He dispatched of the hellhound easily enough as it got close to him, water then slash but Lou was right on its heels and John only had a split second to act. The wolf bounded forward and sprang up. Now, John was not strong, sure, by most normal standards he was rather fit but compared to Tom, he was not the muscle of this, but he was the brains. 
As Lou closed the distance, John thrust his sword up, holding it across himself with both hands as the jaws came snapping at him and pushed him down into the dirt. Rather than just be pounced on, he had been falling backwards already, using his momentum and then the added push from the wolf to kick his feet up and throw the wolf back behind him as he rolled to his feet, already panting as his heart raced. That was too close. He could feel the breath from the wolf still on his face.
With that adrenaline, John’s face formed into a wicked smirk he got only when he was on a mission or about to beat someone’s head in for messing with his lads, one that he’d seen come from Francis Smith time and time again. They had to end this. 
“Oh c’mon, Lou. No hard feelings about that lighting incident,  yeah?”
He flipped his sword in his hand and readied his stance for the next attack, but also watching out of the corner of his eyes for any possible routes of escape up into the trees.
MERIDA: The plan had included the wolf, but Merida would not depend on her-- not unless she really needed it in the end. It was a matter of pride for her to look at Tom with her own eyes, to meet his sword with her own. She wanted to prove something to him-- to all the Order. Perhaps they’d not win today, but if they could beat them back, he wanted Tom to carry with him a story about Merida, not the beast. That she was wild, but graceful, that she was strong and controlled. That she fought with a clear style, a style that was the Order’s own.
She was one of them and she was not. She was not a monster. But the Order had made her and they had to live with that. 
She’d force Tommy, then, to face her. As she attacked, he tried not to-- she noticed that. He alternated between blocking her blows and fighting back Baskerville, until he bested the beast with an expert stab to the chest. Baskerville evaporated with a long howl. Merida did not let it distract her. 
He came at her with hard, fast swings now that he had no one else to worry about. Merida blocked each one, grit her jaw. She’d let him get into a rhythm, lower his guard--
And then she planted her feet and let out a wild shout, lunging forward to force Tommy back. She caught his shoulder, though the blade did not sink its teeth in, only drew blood in a glancing blow. Course Tommy was too skilled to let it throw him, but she saw something change in his eyes. 
“That’s right!” she grinned wolfishly. “Your cousin’s all grown up, Tommy. Ye want to keep playin’?” 
And she lunged again. 
THOMAS: Tom had been expecting to face a wolf, not a girl. 
A beast. Not his cousin. Who was just the same as she had been the last time he saw her properly, years ago now, hair disheveled as she removed her helmet from the tourney—gaze defiant, jaw set. 
She had that same look now and it threw him off, causing him to misstep. Letting her get a cut at him. The wound bit him immediately, the pain radiating down his arm. He didn’t let it phase him. He let it wake him up. To focus on that pain and the fight as their swords clashed. 
Merida had a wild sort of fury to her style, but she was controlled as well. He recognized her moves and matched them with their countermoves fluidly. This was not like fighting an enemy. It was like sparring with one of his mates. The only difference was the flashes of long red hair. 
Despite this, she wasn’t matched in his skill. He had been holding a sword since he was a tot, since his arms had been able to keep it upright. And he trained hard—both as a knight and as a firefighter, so he had a brute force to his every slash and cut that Merida simply didn’t. He had never been as prepared as John or clever as Phil. Once, he hadn’t even been strong: he’d been a small boy. He knew what it feel pushed around. 
He tried not to think of that now. 
His strikes came harder. He wasn’t, necessarily trying to kill her, even though he should be. He drove her back towards John. Tom had every faith that his mate could best a hellhound and a werewolf and then help him dispatch Merida. The fight grew more frantic as the both of them tired. Sword fighting wasn’t meant to be a long term engagement, but he pushed her and pushed her. Sweat dropped into his eyes and he let them burn as they crashed through the low garden fence—tearing through vegetables and flowers, lovingly tended and thriving. It was almost over. With every scrambling step and snarl in the distance, they grew closer to the goal. 
They were the Order’s finest princes and they had come to end this war. 
Tom deafened his ears to any of Merida’s taunts. He couldn’t stand the sound of her voice. It widened the pit in his gut that made him feel dizzy, unsteady. She was a girl. A girl with freckles on her arm, who used to beg him to show her how to hold a sword. And he used to laugh, along with all their other cousins. But, he had learned since then that maybe women should learn how to use a sword. To protect themselves from evil men. 
Like him. 
His blade slashed towards her, twisting at the last second and slicing along her thigh. It was all adrenaline and the scramble of a battle. She went down on one knee with a cry and Tom’s training took over, finding the weak spot in your opponent and—
Tom’s sword slid easily into the joint between Merida’s thigh and hip, stabbing her through the side. 
MERIDA: Merida knew she might not win. The Golden Trio they were called, and they were called that for a reason. They had natural talent, but more importantly they had skill and experience that Merida didn’t. The wolf gave her advantage enough to keep her sword from dipping, to empower her with an endurance that would hopefully tire the likes of Tom out. But it was all a gamble, and so Merida’s main objective was not to win.
She was here to keep Tom busy. 
If she stalled him long enough, Belle would be safe; priority one. If she stalled him long enough, Hades would arrive. He’d already been alerted. It had been only a minute since the attack began-- maybe less, maybe more, Merida didn’t know. But he’d be here soon, either way. And once he was, this peaceful garden would transform into something else-- a graveyard of ghosts and hellfire. She told Hades they inevitably had charms against his magic, but Hades was too powerful to be completely neutralized. Unlike last time, when they surprised him, he knew what he’d be coming into.
So she had to keep holding on. 
Merida let him force her back-- away from the front door. That’s all that mattered. She retreated, but always made sure he was following her. But as the fight wore on, her original plan faded and her anger at the Order grew.  Her desire to win flared, hot and dangerous.
She wanted to win for Belle. She wanted to kill her cousin. Maybe he didn’t-- but she did. She wanted to kill him the way she knew most of the Order wanted to kill her. 
She wanted to win for her, to show that she could.
And so she let out a wild shout and threw force into her movements. Their swords clashed with more fury, almost hard enough to create sparks. Her eyes grew wild. The wolf inside her snarled. But the harder Merida hit, the more reckless she became. 
She failed to guard just once. Just once. But that was always enough. Tom’s sword found its mark, tore into her flesh and she cried out, stumbling down. Before she could even call for the wolf, Tom stabbed her a second time. Merida gasped in pain, and dropped her sword. As soon as he pulled his sword out, her hand went to block the gaping wound. He’d avoided any major organs-- something that she recognized now as pity. Merida’s gaze snapped up and she glared at him with a dirty, sweaty brow, wild pieces of curls escaping from her band. 
“What, Tommy? Is it too hard to slay a beast when it looks like me?” she taunted him. “Go on.” 
PHILLIP: This shouldn’t be so easy. 
Phillip wondered if that ever crossed the minds of the rest of the Order. As they sliced their blades through flesh, as they stabbed through muscle, as they held a sword up to a woman’s delicate throat, did they ever think about how taking a life should not come so easily? It wasn’t hard. Just a slash, just pressing a little harder, and Belle would crumple in his arms, a necklace of scarlet slashed across her neck.
The shadows on the walls seemed longer than they should be. Phillip walked forward and he did not say anything. All he did was listen to the beat of his heart, which he felt sounded louder than it should, in some sick, twisted Edgar Allen Poe sort of way.
At least there were no children here. At least if they did what they came here to do, at least if everything went according to plan, Belle could go free with the little ones and that was, at least, something. 
It should not be so easy to think of the slaughter of three as something going right. And yet, and yet, this was the outcome Phillip hoped for, because it was the best one, because the alternative was slaughtering Belle and the children as well. 
(He could not think of the third option; he did not allow himself, because that third option meant losing John and Tom, and while there were many things Phillip could bear, this was not one of them). 
He heard noise — he knew he needed to go there, but the noise was not the howl of a wolf, but the shout of a woman. Of Merida, he realized. Of Merida, who he’d known as a girl. His grip on Belle’s arms tightened, though he took care no to press his sword any closer to her throat.
He stepped out of the doorway, lingering a bit as he looked on the scene in the garden.
“Back off,” he growled, to the wolf who John was fighting and also at — well, at Merida, who had a dark stain on her side that he tried his best not to look at. “Back off or I’ll kill her.” 
HADES: The ghosts came howling for him.  
As expected, the Order went the route of cowards. For an organization that built its empires on the backs of slain magicks, they had no spine in them to deal with the likes of Hades. Instead, they waited until his family was vulnerable. That’s what they were doing: attacking a family, who had been sitting down for dinner after a long day of simple, mundane things. Babysitting, colouring sheets, trips to the library. That’s what the Order sought to stop: not Hades, but the joy that Hades had cultivated in his wife, his partner, his children. 
He’d give them this: they did their research. Hades tried to shadow jump from the town hall to home, to be there in a blink and light them all on fire like kindling. But his powers halted. With a vicious snarl, he realized they must have come in earlier, put salt in the corners of every room of the fucking building. 
And so Hades had to run-- had to speed his way down the rickety town hall stairs and out onto the streets of Swynlake, so he could finally use his magic. It delayed him two minutes. 
Two minutes were apparently all they needed. 
He appeared in the shadows of the garden and his hands exploded with fire. He stepped out and lifted a hand to take Tom’s sword and turn it against him. But that was when Phillip came out with his wife in his clutches. 
Hades froze. The fire did not go out though. It flickered, alive, up his arms. His eyes narrowed. 
He wasn’t going to lose Belle-- but he wasn’t going to let himself be toyed with like this either.
“You’ll kill a mundus? You’ll kill a mother?” he taunted. And then: “If you kill her, I’ll light every one of your friends on fire. You’ll watch them burn, and I’ll still save my wife. I’ve got a direct fucking line to the Underworld, you Order prick. Who the hell do you think I am?”
A bluff, but sometimes you had to bluff in a game of chess. 
THOMAS: Hades appeared, just as they expected him to. 
Everything had been going to plan until then. Or--well, mostly. John and Tom were supposed to have killed the wolves so that there was only Hades to deal with. The three of them at once would be able to take him, the trio reasoned. They were not under the same impression that Phoebus had been. This was a demon, but one who loved his wife and his spawn. Who may have tried to live as a human, but who was not made for this world. It was a weakness, as much as it was for any mortal. He would bend to them easily. Especially with his pretty little wife as their captive. 
But now, the chaotic scene paused and it wasn’t a demon who appeared--but a man. Not much older or younger than any of them. Tom could see the fear flickering in his eyes. The anger. And he knew with a warrior’s instinct that he meant every threat. 
The word mother struck Tom square in the chest. That was what Belle was. A mother. He had seen her with her children. Had seen her with Merida, laughing--unafraid of a wolf. Had seen her patiently helping others find books or studying in the university library, just like his friends. She was just a girl. A woman. Sweet and gentle. She had tamed impossible monsters and stood now with her lip trembling but eyes hard. Braver than him.
In that moment: Tom knew that they had already lost. He was not the strategic one, but he had a heart and people he loved. If they killed Belle, Hades would send this entire house up in flames and take all of them with him. They would turn him into a bomb. Even if Tom killed Merida and moved to help Phil, there was nothing stopping Hades from setting him aflame. Or if John killed Toulouse, he would burn too. And Tom couldn’t let that happen.
Maybe there was a way to win. Maybe John knew it. 
Tom didn’t care. He stared down at Merida--her proud chin jutted out, but her fingers were trembling and he knew she was scared. Just like they were all scared. 
What were they doing? 
Suddenly, Tom’s vision blurred and he blinked rapidly, clearing it again. He took a shuddering breath and stepped away from where he had been looming over Merida’s prone form. His sword clattered to the ground, as if it had burned him. 
It wasn’t Hades he looked to. But Merida first. “I-I’m sorry,” he told her. 
His gaze snapped to Phil’s, to John’s. “I’m sorry. I can't do it.” 
PHILLIP: This would all be over soon. 
This would all be over soon.
This would all be over soon.
Phillip kept repeating the phrase to himself. This would all be over soon. This would all be over soon. They’d  kill the wolves and they’d force Hades to his knees. He didn’t know how, but they’d do it because they were the Golden Trio and that is what they did. This would all be over soon. This would all be over soon. Hades cursed at them and he threatened them, but Phillip did not falter, because he had John and Tom at his side and if there was anyone who could figure a way out of a demon’s trap it was the three of them.
This would all be over soon. 
Hades’ words didn’t even register to Phillip. Let me die, he thought, let us die together, because that’s better than failure. That was better than admitting he couldn’t do this, better than turning his back on Tom and John. Phillip would rather die than betray them, would rather kill his own spirit than turn against his best friends.
This would all be over soon.
He held the blade to Belle’s throat and he glanced at John then to Tom and he knew one of them just had to do it — had to strike, and the rest of them would, and then maybe Hades would burn them to the ground, but for the first time in over ten years, Phillip welcomed the flames.
In that moment, Phillip made up his mind, because he felt there was no alternative. Either he betrayed Tom and John, or the three of them burned together. 
This would all be over soon.
He grit his teeth, hardening his resolve when —
Tom’s sword clattered to the ground. He looked from Phillip to John, the tears on his face illuminated by the moonlight, his mouth twisted and his hands shaking.
And in that moment, Phillip changed his mind. 
He threw his own sword to the ground, shoving Belle forward slightly towards her husband, then ran towards Thomas, grabbing him roughly to his own chest and collapsing to the floor.
“It’s all right,” said Phillip. “It’s all right.”
JOHN: John had done his best against Lou, but his heart had never intended to slaughter him, no matter how many times his sword lined up perfectly, he fought defensively, a rip or scratch here and there as Lou passed him by and he was growing tired. He knew if something hadn’t changed the tides, he’d have to act in desperation and leave himself open in striking out and beyond that it was a 50/50 shot that he would be able to fell a werewolf on his own. 
But he needed to make sure that Phil and Tom were alright, so he kept the wolf at bay, inching his way as he struck out towards his mates, hearing the clashing of swords stop and the shouting of voices. He looked back to Phil now, has he threatened, his sword at a woman’s throat. It all felt wrong. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to do any of this. His father was wrong. He saw that. But this was their way out. He could be free of it. This was his last mission, he was sure of it. They’d do their own thing soon enough. 
Or so he thought.
As soon as Hades came through, John had the feeling they wouldn’t be able to finish this. There were only three of them and too many powers. He knew this, he’d gone over the strategy but to admit weakness to the Order would just complicate things further. They had to prove themselves. But just as John had planned and thought, they were outmatched. 
At Hades’ words, John didn’t doubt that the fire would consume him and his mates. His burns prickled on his arms, like just being close enough to the source of what had caused them made it burn all over again. Like a burn near too much heat.
He paused, Lou had also paused at the threat of Belle, but he looked to the wolf and he looked to his mates. Looked to the man and his wife. Tom had thrown in the towel, crumbling in a way that made it hard for John to watch, unable to finish Merida. Phil too had crumbled, grabbing onto Thomas. He would be strong for both of them, he would help them out of this. He would use every last breath in his body to save his mates. 
John walked forward, trying to catch his breath and staring down the face of the man they’d just tried to take everything from like a man who didn’t fear death.  Because he didn’t. He feared the death of who he held closest. And right now, that was not his family. It was his brothers, his mates. 
He stood in front of his mates, sword in his hands, bringing it up, twisting it and then swiftly shoving it into the ground beneath him, he would do what he was good for in this group, he would talk and strategize his way through this, “We surrender and through surrendering we effectively defect from the Order. We never wanted this. Not for a moment. The Order taught us that this would somehow save our own families, but that certainly doesn’t excuse the pain we’ve brought to yours. What are your terms, Hades?”
HADES:  A surrender? 
Hades’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t buy it, even as Belle came stumbling toward him. He let his fire die so the night no longer flickered with their eerie, dangerous blue, but he still felt the teeth of the flame in his skin, how much it longed to bite and consume. And he wanted to feed it. Make no mistake. If anything-- now was the perfect chance to show no mercy and send them up into flames anyway.
He didn’t care about their families. He didn’t care about their tears. He didn’t care about repentance. He didn’t believe in second chances. 
Behind him, Lou growled, and he knew his partner felt the same way.
Belle’s hand on his arm, more than anything else, stilled him-- reminded him of the greater mission. It was not a hand of mercy-- at least, that wasn’t how Hades interpreted it, even though his wife had a soft and kind heart. To him, the hand communicated one thing: wait. 
This was part of the plan too. Not to murder them outright-- to capture them and use them as their pawns to get to the King. To the heart of the Order. And destroy it once and for all. 
So no, he didn’t fucking trust any of them, but he’d listen to his wife. After all, it was the Queen who held the most power in the game of chess. 
“My terms? Very fucking simple. You do whatever the hell I say now, and you never-- never-- raise a weapon against me or my family again. And you will swear it by magic.” 
He raised his hands and John’s hands were jerked up in front of them, pressed together as if Hades had handcuffed him. He might as well have; there was no point in struggling against them. 
“Tie them up-- Belle, call Howl.” 
“Thought you’d never ask,” mumbled a bleeding Merida on the ground. And with a wild shout, the woman lurched up and punched Phillip Knightley as hard as she could across the jaw. Despite the blood running through the fingers on her other hand, her eyes glimmered with plenty of strength. “I’ll get the rope.”
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labellerose-acheron · 3 years
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Crossing the Line *** [Saddle Club]
@heart-of-dunbroch
Belle was itching to dive into the research surrounding the first bones. 
She had been jonesing for a good mystery for a while. Didn’t even notice how badly she wanted it until it was plopped in her lap and she was eager to get her hands on it. Things were...evening out in other aspects of her life. She still had the children, her exam at the end of next month, and now...therapy too, on top of all the rest, but--
That only made her more determined. 
It just meant she had to be efficient with her time. She had ordered books from the library that might help as soon as they had decided that would be one of her main research focuses. Now, she had her books piled on the living room coffee table, sitting on her favourite pillow. There were copies that she had had scanned from the archive detailing census records and more difficult to find sources. She had every single book, probably, that had ever been written on Swynlake’s history, all marked with any mention of early deaths and the graveyard especially.
Most of the information was too vague and--
Opal squealed.
Belle did not look up from her book, because she knew that sound. That was not an Opal getting into something sound. It was an Opal playing sound. A quick glance at the spot where Merida had been sitting confirmed she was no longer there and was, most likely, distracted playing with the toddler. 
“Merida!” Belle huffed with a roll of her eyes. “I need your help with this, elsewise it will never get done.” She pointedly lifted her notebook where she was trying to plot a timeline. It was an incomprehensible, scribbled page to anyone but Belle. (She had never been one for study partners, though she did need someone else to help sort through the massive amounts of information.) 
[outfit!]
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labellerose-acheron · 3 years
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Mustang Moon *** [The Phantom Stallion]
@heart-of-dunbroch, @trip-downtheriverstyx
It was five minutes until midnight on the equinox. The Acheron Cottage’s living room had been reconfigured. The coffee table was flipped on its side and pushed in front of the empty fireplace. The couches and chairs moved towards the wall, the rug rolled up. In the place of these things was thirteen candles, flicking with blue flame in a ring on the floor. 
Belle was on her hands and knees, just finishing pouring the salt circle. 
Tonight, they would be summoning the ghost of Mohatu, just to ask a few questions. See what he knew. The atmosphere was a bit tense. Even Belle was not excited as she usually was by the prospect of a summoning. She was a bit rusty. The last one had been more than two years ago, when she was still pregnant with Opal and an honorary medium herself. That wasn’t the only reason she felt badly...
They hadn’t told Simba about it. She couldn’t help but think of this as she finished the salt circle and sat back on her calves, wiping her hands on her skirt. She looked up. Toulouse was sitting in the displaced armchair, a sour expression on his face. This was less about Simba, she knew, and more about the concept of the summoning in general, but she flicked her gaze away guiltily anyway. It landed on Merida, who looked determined. There was, maybe, a flicker of apprehension in her eyes as well, which Belle only knew because she’d seen it several times before, her friend hid it well. 
“Alright,” Belle said, looking up at Hades. She smiled at him, a bit of enthusiasm slipping into the twinkle of her eye, like the flicker of blue flame around them. “That should do it. Do you have the photo?”
She was referencing the one of Simba that they had printed off (thank you to his prominent social media presence) with the intention of burning it. They had considered trying to get some hair, but Hades didn’t need it, he said. Even for a ghost as old as this. 
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labellerose-acheron · 3 years
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Sword Upon Our Hearts [Interlude: Outmatched] *** [Helle feat. Merida]
In which Belle, Hades, and Merida plot the next battle...[takes place: July 28th, early morning]
@trip-downtheriverstyx, @heart-of-dunbroch
[tw -- plotting murder lol]
HADES: Hades was pissed.
He was so pissed he’d been practically silent since the attack, since they returned from the hospital and gotten Opal fixed in a cast. His eyes had stayed fixed on her the entire time, barely feeling the pain from his own injuries. His neck would bruise-- he had a headache from deprivation of oxygen. These things were ant-sized. They didn’t matter. What mattered was that Opal was two years old, cradling her arm, her eyes big and wide and wet from crying for hours. She didn’t know what was happening-- she only had her questions, only now those questions held no joy for her, only fear.  Who were those men? Why had they come? Where was Shuck? 
And Hades would have to answer those questions eventually, but in doing so, he’d shatter a part of Opal’s innocence. No, she couldn’t have remained ignorant of the world’s evils forever, not with a father like Hades, not in a town like Swynlake. But he wanted to be the one to teach her. 
Instead, the Order had been the lesson. They’d come down hard and fast and ruthless. 
He was going to destroy them all.
It was the only thought that gave him any comfort when at last the children were asleep and the house was quiet. It trembled underneath his skin. The only reason they’d even gotten away with this was because Hades had been too cautious. But now, with the upperhand… 
He’d surprise them.
He’d appear in their homes. A second shadow. A demon. 
He’d set them all on fire before they could open their mouths to scream. 
“So what’s the plan?” Merida was the first one to speak; she’d come over in this late hour once Belle had told her what happened, and she was not planning to leave-- she’d patrol outside as the wolf. 
Hades glanced toward her and saw the same calm in her eyes as the one in his own. He knew they were thinking the same thing. 
“I kill them,” he said simply. “Tonight.”  
BELLE:  Belle moved between complete and utter shock and burning anger. Both of which were entirely silent feelings, her face betraying nothing but comfort for her daughter as she did her best to dry her tears and soothe her pain. There was a guilt streaking through her as well, feeling again and again, Opal’s hand slipping from her own. Part of her was angry at Lou too. She had trusted him to keep Opal safe. It was an unfair anger, but everything about this situation was unfair. 
Every time she shut her eyes for even just a moment, she saw it all replay in her mind. As if her brain was trying to find a way to make everything that had just happened make sense. Or maybe it was just being cruel and reminding her that she had failed to keep her children safe. 
She sat, curled up on the couch, Opal asleep in her lap. Belle couldn’t let go of her and Opal wouldn’t let go of Belle, if Belle had wanted her to. Even now, she lay with her good arm curled around her mother’s, her cheeks still stained with tears even resting. Belle kept stroking her hair even though Opal had fallen asleep and was no longer deriving comfort from it. The twins laid under a blanket on the cushion next to her, hopefully blissfully unaware. 
Her eyes tracked Hades as he paced back and forth. She knew what he was thinking and it scared her. Not because she didn’t think those brainwashed brutes didn’t deserve it, but because she knew there would be no hiding a triple homicide. Their entire lives would be uprooted. There were too many variables about how it could all turn out. She wanted to pull Hades down onto the couch with her and put a warm cloth on the bruises around his neck and stroke his hair too, until he fell asleep. 
At his announcement, Belle just kept watching him steadily, with a different calm than Merida’s. 
“You can’t,” she said simply. There was no begging or distress in her voice. It was just a fact. Hades was more than capable but— 
“They aren’t stupid. By now they’re long gone. Probably back in London, perhaps as far as Scotland.” She glanced Merida’s way, looking for her to confirm Belle’s suspicions and also: be on her side. 
MERIDA:  Merida caught Belle’s eyes, and with that glance, knew what Belle wanted for her. She wanted her support. 
And Merida wanted to give it to her, but it clashed instantly with her own desire for revenge-- and with the truth. Maybe attacking was not the right thing to do… maybe there was a smarter way to go about it then sending Hades in alone (and she wanted that to be true so she could put an arrow through the Golden Trio, paint her dagger with their blood, and see them fall), but what Belle said was probably not immediately true.
Yes, they would probably return to headquarters. Or even just go a few towns over to regroup. It wouldn’t make much sense to stay in Swynlake long. But… 
“I’m not sure they would manage to go that far so quickly with their injuries,” said Merida, because she did not lie and it was important to know, in case a retaliation came faster than they thought. “I can’t say for sure. It’s possible-- we could attack when they’re weak--”
“Exactly!” Hades snapped. His eyes glowered and the room was heavy with his power. It made Merida shudder...even the alpha wolf, who never bowed her head, sensed the danger and wanted to lay down her head. 
But she glanced quickly at Belle and still wanted to help her first. “But Belle could also be right,” she added fast, “and if they have managed to make contact with more of the Order--” 
“Even better. I’ll slaughter them too,” snarled Hades. “I’m tired of this. Sitting here like bloody prey while they play killing like it's a sport. I’m not waiting for them to attack my home again!” 
BELLE:  There was a part of Belle that agreed with Hades. That wanted to see the entire Order rot. She had had the same feeling in the cathedral all those years ago, watching Hades bring Phoebus to his knees and knowing that with just a clench of his fist, she wouldn’t have to fear Phoebus any longer. 
But, just like then: she knew that wasn’t going to solve the problem. To get proper justice, to exonerate Hades, Phoebus would need to stand trial. And he had. And now, he was rotting in a jail cell somewhere, abandoned by his beloved Order. 
The difference between then and now was that she understood the Order. Who they were. How they functioned. And she realized that Phoebus was just a single weed and they had not pulled him out by the root. The infection would just spread: the more and more damage that was done. It was not that Belle was against violence solving the problem, but violence would not solve this one. 
Suddenly, she saw the next months of her life laid out like a chessboard. All the moves had been set and made. It was a disadvantage to come into the game halfway through, but she was playing now. And with Hades on her team and Merida advising them, they would become unstoppable.
First, she had to convince Hades that was the case. It would help if Merida was on her side. The look she shot her conveyed this again, but it was Hades she looked at while she spoke. Her voice was tired, but held the same conviction as the tears in the corners of her eyes. 
“I will not have my husband go to prison for some sloppy premeditated killing spree,” Belle told him. “We have to be smart about this. We have underestimated the Order at every bloody turn. What if they expect you to walk in guns blazing? It could be a trap. Or, at the very least, they will be prepared. They won’t attack again tonight because they know we are prepared as well. And by the way they left—“ Belle shook her head. 
HADES:  Finally, Belle’s words reached him like another weapon. 
“I will not have my husband go to prison for some sloppy premeditated killing spree.” 
That was right. It could go like that, couldn’t it? And several years ago, Hades would have scoffed at the idea of prison. No mortal one would hold him, not with his ability to slip through shadows easier than water. He would simply leave Swynlake. That would have been the solution to a triple homicide in the past. 
But that was before a lot of things. It was before the Board, before his marriage, before Swynlake became a place he invested in. And it was before his kids too. He couldn’t do that to them-- because if life on the run meant that he couldn’t be with his children… or worse, if Belle insisted on joining him then-- then he’d ruin their lives. Opal, Aidan, and Bellamy. And Belle too, right here on the cusp of a career that she had worked for.
Yes, he wanted revenge. Yes, he needed to protect his family. But a sloppy killing spree, in Belle’s words, were not the way to achieve these goals. 
Some of the anger bled from him, like a leak through a dam, relieving some of the intense pressure in the room. He stopped pacing and instead sank into a chair. “You’re right,” he admitted. 
And Merida, off to the side, nodded as well. 
His eyes were still sharp-- but this time, he looked to Belle. “Then what do you think we should do? I don’t want to be unprepared next time. And I’d also like to have an idea what the outcome looks like, or I probably will snap their necks next time they come here.” 
BELLE:  If anyone took Belle’s calm, or her lack of outward lust for revenge, as a sign of not caring; they would be deeply misguided. 
Belle’s entire body was tight with her anger. She felt violated and furious. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever been so angry in her entire life. Anger was such a fluid emotion for Belle. It came and went so easily, with an apology or with time. Hurt could last a very long time. Hurt was what always turned Belle cold. Anger was either sharp and fast or it extinguished too easily. But now, it sat hard and hot like coal in her stomach. Every time she breathed it just fueled the flame and she knew it would not cease until they had enacted their revenge. 
How they did so, now, that was the question wasn’t it? 
Belle adjusted Opal in her lap. Her daughter was passed out, safe in her mother’s arms. Where she should have been this whole time. It was a good thing Belle’s anger burned so brightly. It meant she did not have time to feel guilty. That would come later. 
“We won’t be unprepared. We will keep a guard on the house. Toulouse and Merida and San can take shifts. Their wolf’s noses will sniff out anyone lurking about. We will summon Shuck again. And Baskerville and Bearer of Death if we need to.” A hellhound for each of the children. 
“We can move the children’s beds into the secret office or—we could move all of us to the castle. The only downside to that is it is older and bigger. Would be harder to protect. As for these men…Thomas, Phillip, and John?”
She looked to Merida to nod confirmation. “We turn them. They’ll come for us again, I imagine. Perhaps with reinforcements but they will be leading the charge. They’re apparently the best the Order has, so they won’t take them off the job completely. And—I saw the look on one of their faces when they realized what they had done. They are not as ruthless as Phoebus was. We can use it against them. Blackmail them. Curse them. Threaten to turn them into the very beasts they fear. Torture them. I don’t bloody care how we do it, but we keep them alive. They will tell us everything and then we will kill their leaders and burn the Order to the ground, so that it cannot rise from the ashes.” 
It was not a perfect plan. There were many details to determine, but it was better than not thinking it through at all. Belle would rather take the time to devise a plan, just like how she approached a chess game. Sometimes, she did not make a move before she had considered every single one and the countermoves against them—playing out whole games in her head until she felt confident that she was going to win. 
And they would win. 
HADES: Hades listened like a soldier recieving his orders. And for the most part-- he agreed. He could command the hellhounds to keep a steady perimeter on their house. He would gather the spirits of this town to act like its own kind of security system. They’d lay over the cottage like a cloak, and at the first sign of disturbance, they’d scream in a voice that only Hades would hear, no matter where he was in town. Because he wasn’t stupid. He understood how his enemy had thought this first attack through. Whatever disturbance they’d caused outside to lure Shuck, and then Hades, out, was meant to keep Hades as far from the others as possible. 
But he’d do everything to make sure that didn’t happen. No, Hades could not be with Belle, Lou, and his children every hour of the day, but he’d make sure his magic touched every corner of this house, so those men would walk into their own damn crypt. 
And that was the one place where he wanted to resist Belle’s orders. He understood the value of keeping them alive but-- 
Hades did not see what Belle had seen. Literally, but also figuratively-- if he’d had eyes on the soldiers, any empathy or regret that might flash through their faces would never flicker on Hades’ own register. And so doubt bubbled in his mind that even torture and imprisonment would work. 
He didn’t want to trust these men, let alone work with them. But it might be a necessary evil.
There was a beat, Hades mulling all of this over. Then he slowly nodded. “Alright. That can be the plan-- for now.” His eyes cut to Belle’s. “But I won’t be a patient warden with them. If they don’t cooperate--”
“If they don’t, they’ll be prepared to die for the Order’s secrets,” piped in Merida. 
“Exactly. And I’ll fulfill that wish. Quietly, of course. Very intelligently. So I won’t go to prison,” said Hades and he flashed his wife a grin. 
BELLE:  Belle held Hades' gaze steadily. She knew that she was right. There were not many times when she felt absolutely certain of something. Belle, for as stubborn as she was, was always susceptible to a better plan, if one was presented to her. She had pride, but she had more practicality. That was her strength. Hades usually proposed a plan and Belle was the one who found the gaps and filled them in, until it was airtight. 
In this moment, she was calm, knowing that Hades knew it too. This was the way forward. If the Order of the Prince wanted a war, then a war they would get—and they would be fighting against a king and a queen. They were outranked and outmatched. 
When Hades finally nodded, Belle nodded back. He did not need to say anything else. Neither did she. Everything could be communicated in that one simple moment. It was the Order’s failure, leaving Belle and Hades united. They didn’t stand a chance. The Acherons had taken on Fate themselves and won. 
Her eyes cut to Merida. Honestly, she had forgotten that she was there, but she felt fond of her knight. A much stronger player than any Prince. 
“That’s all I ask,” Belle told her husband. “By the end of this they will all certainly get just what they deserve. I promise you our revenge.”
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