Prompt Post 4!
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I make heavy reference to Tam Lin, a folk tale in which the heroine gives up her virginity in return for a rose, becomes pregnant, and has to rescue Tam Lin from the fairies in order that they can be together. It’s noted as being unusual among folklore for being pretty up-front on the topic of sex.
It was almost strange, Merida supposed, that she trusted the wisps. After everything that had happened, the pain that came from following the wisps to the witch's cottage, she doubted that it would surprise anyone if she had decided to say damn them all, and ignore them if they ever arose again. But though the route might have been roundabout, they had led her to happiness eventually. Magic had done right by her. It had earnt her trust.
The ancient stone circle was always less imposing in the daylight. Over time, Merida had taken to visiting once in a while, to scrape away the lichen and reveal the old granite underneath. It was calming to spend time here, on the days when she did not need to be the Princess of DunBroch, the days which her mother now allowed her, with the understanding that it helped to keep the balance in her.
And when the wisps came to her a third time, she followed them.
The day was soft and light, early fall with a breeze in the air but not enough to undercut the warmth of the sunlight. Merida dismounted; Angus still huffed and looked distrustfully at the wisps, but he followed when Merida took hold of his reins and led him forwards on foot. The grass was soft beneath her feet, the smell of the woods rich and welcome, and hope and nervousness pounded together in her heart as she followed them under low branches and over roots that lifted from the soil as if curious about the world above.
Finally, the trees opened out to a small clearing, a felled tree in the centre of it speaking as to how recently it had formed. Grass and wildflowers filled it, and small saplings were already vying to be the one to fill the gap.
A young woman was sitting beside the fallen tree, her back to Merida; a shaggy brown horse almost as large as Angus was tied up on the edge of the clearing. As Merida slowly walked closer, releasing Angus's reins, the woman did not seem to notice.
After a moment, Merida realised that it was because of the book open in her lap, and after a moment more she realised that the woman was not reading from it, but writing in it.
"Good morning to you," called Merida. The woman jumped, dripping ink across the grass beside her, and looked round in surprise. She was perhaps a few years older than Merida, with brown hair and sun-warmed skin, dressed in sturdy travelling clothes and sitting on her own outspread cloak.
She put aside her quill, though, and smiled. "Good morning. I wasn't expecting to see anyone out here."
"Well, this isn't the most travelled area of the highlands," said Merida. The woman had a slight accent, but she spoke the language very well, and did not seem perturbed by Merida's presence. "You're a traveller in these parts."
"Well seen. And you?"
"A native, from the castle town. But this beastie," she patted Angus's side, "needs quite a way to stretch his legs."
"I know that feeling," said the woman, with a glance at her own horse. Angus tossed his head and leant towards the newcomer, nostrils flaring. "I'm Belle."
The name seemed familiar, perhaps in some other language that Merida had heard of or read somewhere along the line. It was pretty, though; it suited the woman. Merida gave Angus a pat, and nudged him in the shoulder to let him know that he could wander as he wished. "Merida," she replied.
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"I didn't have a particular destination in mind," said Merida quickly. "What are you working on?"
"This? Oh," Belle shrugged dismissively. "Stories. I collect them."
Merida crossed to peer over Belle's shoulder, curiosity sparking. Was it for the stories that the wisps had led her here?
"Stories? Well, there are plenty of those to be found hereabouts. Who have you been asking?"
A smile spread across Belle's face, and she opened the book back up again, turning this time to the first few pages. She opened it to the contents page, to show a list of story names, with neat writing next to each recording names, ages, and villages. "Just about everyone," Belle admitted. "I want to collect as many stories as I can, and it seems like every village has them. Whenever I fill a book, I send it home to my father to add to the collection, and start on a new one."
"Sounds like an interesting life," said Merida.
Belle's eyes were alight now, and she seemed to swell with pride over the stories. She gestured for Merida to sit down beside her - a complete stranger but, Merida supposed, a young woman close to her own age who was acting in a friendly manner and whose bow and arrows were still securely on Angus's saddle - and ran her hand almost lovingly across the page of the book. It was good paper, thick and sturdy, and the ink was a clean, unfaded black, altogether a good quality thing. "I must admit, it feels almost like I'm in one of these stories myself. It's simply amazing to hear them all."
"So," Merida said, the slightest teasing in her voice, unable to help herself in the face of Belle's warm and honest enthusiasm, "have you heard the tale of the Bear King and the beast Mor'du?"
"I've come across a few tales involving bears," said Belle. "But not that one, I think."
The words flowed from her with surprising ease. From the four princes of old, through the rise to power of Fergus of Dunmathan and his marriage to Princess Elinor of Dunbroch, then on to his fight against the beast Mor'du. With the story of her own path crossing that of the witch, she was a little more economical, but she traced the story through th the end, the transformation, the reunion. Belle watched and listened with an outright entranced expression, propping her chin on one hand and watching with eyes alight.
“Would you mind if I were to write this down?” said Belle, as Merida drew her tale to a triumphant close. “I’ve not heard any quite like it, though it has themes that I’ve seen in other local tales.”
The thought of being part of an actual folktale was enough to make Merida start chortling again, with an unladylike snort.
“If you wish,” she said. Belle’s look of confusion only made her snort with laughter again, and Belle chuckled as well.
“Sorry,” said Merida, gathering herself. “It’s strange to think that I’m suddenly a source for folklore.”
“Well, it has mostly been old men and women in taverns,” Belle admitted. “They’re usually the ones more glad to tell their
tales.”
Merida could only imagine. She had heard plenty of tales from the older men and women of the castle, mostly when she was young but still nowadays whenever she could not think of an excuse to remove herself. And that was beside her mother’s tales of history so old that it was almost legend in its own right. “Well, I hope I make a change,” she said.
“Oh, certainly” replied Belle, reaching already for her book again. “It’s nice to sit in the outdoors with a pretty woman, rather than-”
She caught herself short, hand freezing just inches from the book, and did not meet Merida’s eyes. Unlike the more calculated compliments which Merida was used to hearing, this one had been so offhand that it rather disarmed her, and she felt a warm flush spreading across her chest, creeping slowly upwards.
“I’m flattered to hear it,” she said, and she had been certain that she meant to say glad but that was not what left her lips.
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“I usually get people trying to get me to stop,” said Merida.
Apparently that was enough to make Belle chuckle. “Oh, I think I could stand to hear more stories from you,” she said, with something in her voice that made it sound like she was saying two quite different things at once.
“Well, I would need to know which ones you had already heard.”
Belle nodded, still with her smile lingering somewhere between playful and hungry. She left her book aside, and leant back towards Merida again, so close that the tips of their fingers brushed against each other. “Well, I have collected quite a few. This is my second volume of the area. Let me see…” she reached up with her free hand to brush stray hair from her forehead. “I’ve heard quite a few variations on the tale of Tam Lin and his terrible seductive ways, of course,” she said. “And quite a few descriptions of him too. I’m almost starting to think that he is a sort of shape-shifter to be quite so handsome to quite so many.”
The tale of Tam Lin was well-known, of course, even if Merida had needed to wait quite some years from first hearing it to actually understanding what it was that Tam Lin had taken. “Well, the fae are known to have shifters in their midst,” she agreed. “And he must have been right fair at it, to have inspired so many tales. Do you have a favourite, among such stories?"
“Hmm,” said Belle. Her hand shifted a little closer, until her fingers traced over the back of Merida’s hand. Just the touch made Merida’s heart beat faster, the almost-promise in the circling of Belle’s fingertips. “There are so many. But I do recall a tale that had Tam Lin have hair as red and untamed as the sunset.” Her eyes locked on Merida’s, with a boldness that even Merida admired. “And eyes as blue as the distant sky. And I do seem to recall…” for the merest instant, her eyes flickered off to something behind Merida, as her tongue slipped out to trace her lower lip. “That Tam Lin was, in that tale, the finest of archers.”
"And you like that version the best?” said Merida.
Belle leant closer still, until the wild curls of Merida’s hair cast shadows on her skin, and Merida could feel the heat that hung in the air between them. “It may not be the version that I write, but I think so,” she said.
Her throat felt dry, but there was an ache in her chest and a heat between her legs and Belle’s finger was stroking just between two of Merida’s in the most suggestive of ways. “Alas,” said Merida, “for I have no roses for you.”
“Alas,” replied Belle, her smile becoming just a bit of a smirk, “for I am no virgin.”
The bold words made Merida’s head rush, and she felt the heat of her blush returning. For lack of knowing quite how she could reply to such a comment, she closed the last short distance to kiss Belle’s mouth instead.
Belle gave a soft murmur at the touch, as if she had been yearning for it just as much as Merida had. Her lips were soft and warm, but the brush of her tongue on Merida’s upper lip was confident, and the hand that stole up to caress Merida’s shoulder had no hesitation about it. Merida kissed her back with what she suspected was more boldness than finesse, but if Belle noticed or cared she did not pause to comment as such. She reached forwards, meaning to find a place to put her hand upon the ground, but instead her hand fell upon Belle’s thigh, warm through the soft wool of her dress.
At the touch, Belle drew back a fraction, eyes scanning over Merida’s face. Merida tried to look as if it had been deliberate; she could feel the way that Belle’s muscles shifted as she moved, the tautness of them, and it made her want to feel all the more.
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This was most certainly one of the (many, many) things which a princess Should Not Do, and Merida did not give a damn. She was far more interested in the way that one of Belle’s hands slid down her throat and brushed across the very top of her breasts, the way that the awkward position had her slowly sliding down closer towards Belle and closing the gap between them, the way that her other hand had slipped up Belle’s thigh, rucking up the fabric beneath it, and Belle was making it more than clear enough with her mouth that she approved whole-heartedly.
“Is there a different-” Merida gasped as Belle kissed her jaw, sucking against her skin. “-type of tale you’ve been seeking?”
Belle’s hand slid lower, to cup Merida’s breast through her dress, and it sent a flare of heat down her spine. “I’m interested in many a sort of tale,” she said, breath hot against Merida’s flushed skin.
Their mouths met again, kisses growing more heated and ragged, Belle’s hand tugging down the collar of Merida’s dress to slip beneath and massage her bare breast instead. In return, with a rush of boldness, Merida moved to straddle her, pushing her against the tree and letting the fabric of their skirts ruck up between them. Belle gasped, back arching, and Merida moved both of her hands to the woman’s chest, at first running over her ribs and then gliding up to cup her breasts.
Belle tasted like something free, and something wild, and the way that her tongue moved had a thousand little stories hidden in it. Her hands were warm and confident against Merida’s skin, fingers teasing at her nipple even as it tightened in the air, and Merida responded with fierce kisses and a tilt of her hips, tension in her thighs as if she were on horseback once again. There was something thrilling in Belle’s confidence, her experience no doubt, but with a wicked grin Merida undid the woman’s belt so quickly that it seemed to catch even Belle by surprise.
They broke apart, both breathing hard, and Belle gave a look that was almost a challenge. “You have a thought?”
“I have quite a few,” said Merida. She wrapped the ends of the belt around her hands, stretched it taut against Belle’s back, and then slowly slid it upwards. When it caught in Belle’s armpits, the stayed there for a moment, daring each other with their gazes, before Belle raised her arms above her head. “But mostly, I have the idea that I take charge.”
There was the stump of what had once been a branch, now above Belle’s head on the tree trunk. Time had softened and rounded it, but it was crooked in just the right way that Merida could loop the belt around Belle’s wrists and over the stump, tieing them gently in place.
Without the belt, Belle’s dress hung more loosely on her, rising and falling with the movement of her breaths, with just enough of the edge taken off for Merida to feel more in control again.
“I like a woman who gets ideas,” said Belle, with an edge in her voice that Merida did not recognise but which made her feel oddly proud. Belle’s voice became huskier. “Who thinks.”
Merida caught her in a kiss again, this time so fierce that their lips felt almost hard against each other, Belle breathing heavily with her arms tensing against their bonds. With her own free hands, Merida pulled loose Belle’s dress and reached beneath, caressing soft skin, feeling the shift and play of muscles oddly familiar, and strange at the same time. She slid one hand beneath Belle’s skirts, pushing them up to reveal Belle’s thighs, all soft cream and strong beneath Merida’s touch.
Belle caught her breath as Merida’s hand slid higher, thumb on the inside of her thigh and palm sweeping over her skin. Slipping down, Merida placed soft wet kisses on Belle’s neck, the line of her collarbone, down to the curve of her breasts amid the warmth radiating from her skin.
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Her skin tasted warm and golden beneath Merida’s tongue, her hip just right for Merida to wrap her hand around. She shifted, straddling one of Belle’s legs, and Belle bent her knee slightly, with a rough chuckle, so that her thigh pressed between Merida’s thighs in turn.
“You’ve got a few tricks,” said Merida, between kisses. She ran her tongue delicately over Belle’s nipple, watching as it tightened in the air, then wrapped her lips around it and sucked gently, tongue flicking harder now.
Belle arched her back, moaning softly, shifting her hips towards Merida’s hand but held still by Merida’s weight upon her thigh. “It’s amazing what tales I’ve heard.”
Her arms pulled against the tree again, and with a smirk Merida slipped up to nip at Belle’s earlobe instead. She had heard of that, and from the way Belle gasped it was well-received. Merida rolled her hips against Belle’s thigh, almost without thinking, then again more deliberately. It sent rough waves of pleasure through her, unfocused and raw, and Merida moaned softly against Belle's neck.
She slid her hand higher, beneath the soft fabric of Belle's undergarments, letting her fingertips brush lightly over the curls of hairs beneath, teasing and drifting until she felt the twitch of Belle's hips. With a chuckle against the side of Belle's throat, Merida finally let her fingers slip lower, one light brush over the line of her slit before pressing between, feeling the warmth of Belle's lower lips against her fingers. Belle tilted her hips to receive Merida's touch, and then Merida's fingers slipped into her and she moaned, the sound burring through her body where it pressed to Merida's, muscles tightening around the welcome intrusion.
Belle's knee twitched, and Merida was reminded of it as it ground against her, roughened by the layers of fabric between them but warm and hard and perfect to rock her hips against. But perhaps more thrilling was the way that Belle's breath hitched as Merida braced herself against the fallen tree with one hand and worked at Belle's sex with the other, fingers teasing at her entrance before slipping up to circle that nub of pleasure again, watching the way that Belle's lips parted, shining, and her arms pulled against the tie of her hands.
Belle breathed something, in a language which Merida did not speak, but she understood enough of it to tilt her hand a little closer, the touch of her fingers becoming more insistent, coaxing against Belle's skin as she rode her thigh. She pressed kisses to Belle's mouth, but Belle was breathing too hard to much respond, breasts heaving, arms trembling in place where they were held above her.
A wickedness seized at Merida, and she traced her tongue along Belle's jaw to the curve of her ear again, fingers sliding down to the wet heat at the core of her sex before slipping up again, ever more insistent. "Why comes thou to Dunbroch," she breathed, the words so old that she could have spoken them in a dream, "Withoutten my command?"
With a whispered word that had the sound of a curse, Belle threw her head back, thighs pressing tight together around Merida's hand as she shook. Merida felt the waves of climax crashing through Belle's body, teasing her over them, as Belle breathed hard and her fists clenched and finally, with a moan, slumped into Merida's chest, lips pressing a soft wet kiss to Merida's collarbone.
"I'll come and gang by Dunbroch," she murmured back, resting her head there for a moment before looking up at Merida again with warm brown eyes and kiss-flushed lips, "And ask nae leave at thee."
Merida chuckled breathlessly, still with that tight-wound pleasure in her belly, her hand cupping Belle's sex tenderly, feeling almost as if she could sense the head radiating off her skin. "I'm not sure you've finished paying for your rose."
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The pleasure built higher in her, and Merida moaned, holding herself with one hand against the tree trunk and one on Belle's thigh, hips rolling, Belle tracing down with her mouth to suck and nip at the crook of her neck. She felt desire building with her breathlessness, and closed her eyes, the last lingering image that of Belle arching up towards her, the feel of her thigh, the soft sound of her breath, and Merida let the pleasure crash down over her so hard that she saw flashes of red behind her eyes, shivers running all down her until, shaking and brimming with warmth, she came back down to earth again.
She looked at Belle, pink-cheeked, hair tousled, and grinned. "Well," said Belle. "My bonniest knight."
"In all your company?" Merida teased.
Leaning her head back against the tree, Belle gave her a long, knowing look. "Oh, aye. In all my company."
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