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The Ring of Stones had been the setting for many an odd event, but even Merida was a bit surprised to be hunting near them and happen across what seemed like a whole crowd of people appearing out of thin air in the center. What seemed to take her aback was that she knew those people.
The Dark Ones and their allies were not people she’d soon forget.
She’d been fortunate enough to have been sent back home before any real mischief came about. But Emma was no longer wearing any dark leathers, and the pirate’s hook was, at least, cleaned up from all the blood she last saw on it.
All of them seemed baffled and frightened, but most of all Emma. She had appeared at the edge of the crowd, her eyes closed and her fists in tight balls. As she heard people murmur around her, she opened her eyes, letting go of a harsh exhale.
“Killian?” she asked, “Killian?!”
The Dark One spun around, looking about. The pirate, not too far, took her shoulder. When the pair made eye contact, it made Emma start to cry, curiously enough. She took him by his lapels and pulled him in for a kiss. The moment was so intense that Merida felt as if she ought to avert her gaze, despite the fact that she was still underneath behind the treeline. But they pulled apart, beaming and happy.
“You found me.” The pirate said, a laugh of disbelief touching his voice.
“I will always find you.” Emma promised.
“Perhaps we can find where we’ve shown up, because this isn’t Storybrooke.” Regina, who’d separated from her own man, said. It ruined the moment, but it brought them all back to focus.
Mary Margaret eyed their surroundings and tried to offer, “It looks like the Enchanted Forest.”
“No. We never had rocks like these,” David said as he placed one hand on one of the stones.
It was a good a time as ever to chime in. Merida stepped out of the treeline, and up to the ring.
“Looks like you’ve found yerselves in Dunbroch. Lucky fer you, there’s a friendly face.”
“Merida!” Emma was the first to recognize her, pleasantly surprised. However, Killian looked apprehensive.
“Friendly? I doubt you remember our time together with fondness.” He remarked.
“Aye, true ‘nuff,” Merida agreed. “But I know better than to get on the bad side of the Dark Ones. The least I can do is perhaps offer some directions to getcha where ye need to go, which hopefully, is far away from mah land.”
“Not dark,” Emma clarified, “There’s no more Dark One.”
“It’s true,” Mary Margaret said, “We’ve taken care of that. The darkness is gone.”
Merida’s eyebrows practically went to her hairline, “Truly?”
She studied the lot of them, looking for any sign of lie or joke. Finally, she shrugged her shoulders back, “Huh. Well then. I think I can offer a wee bit more than directions. Ya hungry? My lords are comin’ into the harbour now. There’ll be a gran’ feast to welcome them, and more than enough food to pass around.”
“We couldn’t-” The protests started, but Merida waved them off.
“Anyone who can destroy the darkness is welcome at my table. All I want in return is to hear the story. I reckon it’s a hell of an adventure.”
Killian raised an eyebrow, “Oh, you have no idea.”
By nightfall, Dunbroch’s hall was full to the brim with countrymen from all walks of life, including their new guests. The story of their quest soon became the topic of conversation at every table, spread by the Storybrooke’s folk mingling about with Merida’s people (aside from the young lad Roland, who spent his time playing with the hunting dogs). Even the queen was enthralled by the epic tale.
“The underworld? You went to the underworld? How’d you manage to get back? To get here?”
“Well, we were told it was alright to use magic to transport back, but somehow we were brought here.” Emma tried to explain, when a thought hit her and she stopped. “The last time I tried teleporting, it was with you, Merida, to send you home.”
Killian gave a nod, “Right. You thought home and the magic tried to fill in the blank. You found one, just not ours.”
Merida smiled, nursing a full mug that she tilted to them, “I wouldnae worry. Wit’ tha’ kinda magic under yer belt, you’ll get back home in no time at all. In th’ meantime, you’re welcome to stay in the guest chambers here. We’re messier here than in Camelot, granted, but at least I can promise no one’ll mess wit’ you here.”
“‘Course, it all depends on how our guests behave.“
Merida nearly choked on her ale, surprised by the voice that spoke behind her. She twisted about, and went beet red at the sight of Lord Macintosh towering over her. Oh, she didn’t she look absolutely ridiculous, sloshing her drink down her front? She set her cup down hastily, and waved an airy hand to put on a mask of indifference.
“Don’t, ah, don’t min’ my lord ‘n advisor Macintosh here.” She put on a smile and leaned close to Emma and Killian, “Whiny brat, he is. ”
“Am not.” Macintosh whined. He frowned across at the guests, “Just don’t like to take anyone’s word fer it when they say, ooch yeah no mirky magic’s ‘ere, trust us.”
“I’d protest if I understood a word of that.” Emma said meekly.
“We honestly mean no trouble,” Killian cut in, nodding in understanding, “We just want to get back to our own home.”
Merida reached out, touching Macintosh’s arm, “Stand down, Mac. Ye don’t have to trust them, you just have to trust me, an’ I know how these two look when they’ve got darkness in their hearts. They’re on our side, alright?”
He held her gaze for a while, before finally giving in with a sigh, “'Course, my queen.”
His hand came up to touch her elbow in return, and left for his own table across the room. Merida didn’t notice she had watched him leave before Emma spoke up.
“You two are, uh, close then?”
“Macintosh is my advisor.” Merida said almost immediately. She turned back to the table, and wrapped both hands around her mug. “He lives here more often than not because he has to, and he guides me with all my royal duties. Of course we’re close.”
“…Ohhh.” Killian raised his chin as he made the noise, slowly turning to look at Emma. She raised her eyebrows in return, nodding.
Merida frowned. “… What 'oh’?”
The couple turned their raised eyebrows to her. After a pause, Merida elaborated.
“There is nothin’ to 'oh’ about. Nothin’.” Despite her insistence, Emma and Killian didn’t seem to be convinced. Instead, their matching brows were accompanied by a matching pair of smirks.
The queen gave a long sigh and got to her feet, “I’m heading up to bed. I’ll have one of my brothers show ye to your chambers when you’re ready. Just look fer three trouble-makin’ redheads.”
She was already on her feet when Emma went, “Alright, alright, just…”
The two turned around to look around at the sea of fiery hair, and feebly asked, “Which ones are your-?”
By the time they turned back, and Merida had already fled to the stairs.
The nice thing about castles, despite their chill and their dark corners, was that the stone did not creak under your feet as you snuck through the corridor. Killian, having snuck through enough places to have a pros and cons of sneaking through them, was himself wandering through Castle Dunbroch’s halls, returning to his chambers after creeping into the kitchens for a midnight snack. He was bringing back a prize in the form of a small bowl of fruits and sweets for the one awaiting his return. He was close to his door when he heard murmurs down the corridor.
With his hand hovering at the latch, he hesitated, listening carefully for another sound of the like. Sure enough, there was someone gently speaking just around the corner. Never one to shy away from signs of trouble, Killian carefully made his way towards the voice. Voices, he realized, starting to identify the difference between a man and a woman’s voice. He hid in the alcove of a torch for just a moment, before daring to peek around a bend.
Their host, Queen Merida, stood in the open doorway of what must have been her chambers, judging by the nightie and the way her hair was in even more of a tangle than when Killian saw her last. Either she’d been tossing and turning all night, or it had been mussed by the man standing in front of her. He was surprised once he recognized Lord Macintosh, although it was curious to see him in the same clothes from earlier.
Killian regarded their bright, wide eyes and their sheepish smiles, and realized that this was not a lover leaving the suite - it was a courter’s midnight visit.
It struck him, how young the two warriors looked as they batted their eyes at each other. They were still in the early days of their courtship, he would have guessed.
“-someone catches you at mah door, hm? I don’t want to get into trouble.”
“I’ll be it ay of yer hair soon, though-” Macintosh smiled as he reached out, tucking her hair back behind her ear, “It might take a wee bit of a trek.”
“Hush, you.” Merida teased, pushing at his shoulder. Macintosh held his hand out to steady himself - clearly not expecting the smaller woman’s strength - and revealed a bouquet that he’d been hiding under his cloak. The redheaded queen’s teasing smile dropped into a small o as she let out a gasp. Killian himself was taken aback once he recognized the colour and shape of the flowers. Middlemists.
“Oh, Mac, look at those! Where on earth did you fin’ those?”
“I realized I hadnae brought ye back anything from my last trip. Be ashamed if I didnae get you somethin’ of a present. So off I went, after the feast tonight. I wanted to find something that’d fit cha, but nothing in the gardens are particularly for lookin’, and the forest’s slim pickins’.”
“So where did you go?” The queen wondered.
Macintosh smiled, “Would ya believe me if I said I was found by some wisps?”
“Not in a thousand years. The wisps gave ye flowers to give to me? You’d think they have more important things to do.”
“Well they certainly didn’t just give 'em to me, gave a chase mah legs soon willnae forget.” Macintosh was rubbing the back of his neck, but stopped to gesture at her, “Go on, take it. S'for you.”
“Oh, right…” she took the bouquet with both hands, marvelling over it, “You don’t have to get anything for me, y'know. M'not tha’ kinda lass.”
“True. But hopefully my intent is clear.”
Merida’s shy smile curled into a smirk, “Aye, perhaps. I think it may be a wee bit foggy though. I don’t suppose you can make your intent a little easier to understand?”
“Easier?” Macintosh was edging closer to her, the same playful look on his face, “And here I thought milady liked a challenge.”
Killian’s eyebrow shot up, and he decided that it would be best to take his leave. It would’ve been best to take his leave two minutes ago, really. He slipped away, leaving the queen and her courter to their conquest.
Judging the flustered yet incredibly pleased look on the Highlanders’ faces the next morning at breakfast, he would have to assume conquests.