BRAVE FILL Arrow Straight, Arrow True (4/4)interrobamAugust 13 2012, 00:45:56 UTC
She had let loose an entire quiver before she even grazed the target. She swallowed the yelp that rose within her, berated herself for her own enthusiasm. It could have easily been a fluke. She shot six more, missed six more, the ground before and long past the target were scarred like a battlefield. The seventh arrow of the second quiver she held in her hand for a long while. She closed her eyes, pressed the arrow to her lips.
“Please.” She whispered, desperate and faithful, before setting the arrow.
Slowly, carefully, she breathed out, twisted her elbow just so. She could feel the string release, the kiss of air against her cheek, the arrow flying free. It hit the target, buried itself in the straw. It was an inch or two away from the bullseye, but she didn't care. It didn't matter. If she could shoot, she could heal. If she could hit a target, she could be Merida again. She could forgive herself for her mother's death, the loss of her brothers, the weak voice Fergus used with her. She yelped joyously at the cold blue sky, throwing up her arms, the one of flesh and one of wood, together.
Years later the princess rides through the forest. Her old targets, their friendship rekindled, welcome her precise shots. Angus is long retired, but his son carries her just as faithfully, knows her habits just as thoroughly. She rides beside the stone circle, down the witch's valley, to the stream she had slept by nearly ten years prior. Angus' son starts, spooks, as she approaches the water, and she draws her bow back, holds the string with her wire fingers effortlessly. There are three bears there: juveniles, males from their shape and size. She aims at the closest one, growling at her from the edge of the falls, and makes ready to fire
Something comes to her. Her brothers, the cake, the promise she made them in the kitchens all those years ago. She lowers her bow, nods her head faintly.
“Boys?” The bears stare back with cold black eyes. Then, slowly, they turn and leave. Merida feels an ache in her heart, the scar of a scream in her bones, a tragedy on the fringe of her family's tapestry. Merida feels a private disaster, a call to her mother at the back of her throat, hot moisture at the edge of her eyes.
Re: BRAVE FILL Arrow Straight, Arrow True (4/4)disneykinkloverOctober 18 2012, 03:22:30 UTC
This is hauntingly good and I am on the verge of tears. *Sniffles* :`( Angst fest ahoy! But it is awesome; I love how you delved into how both Merida and Fergus would react and Merida regaining her archery. Loved the end, too; nice touch. :)
“Please.” She whispered, desperate and faithful, before setting the arrow.
Slowly, carefully, she breathed out, twisted her elbow just so. She could feel the string release, the kiss of air against her cheek, the arrow flying free. It hit the target, buried itself in the straw. It was an inch or two away from the bullseye, but she didn't care. It didn't matter. If she could shoot, she could heal. If she could hit a target, she could be Merida again. She could forgive herself for her mother's death, the loss of her brothers, the weak voice Fergus used with her. She yelped joyously at the cold blue sky, throwing up her arms, the one of flesh and one of wood, together.
Years later the princess rides through the forest. Her old targets, their friendship rekindled, welcome her precise shots. Angus is long retired, but his son carries her just as faithfully, knows her habits just as thoroughly. She rides beside the stone circle, down the witch's valley, to the stream she had slept by nearly ten years prior. Angus' son starts, spooks, as she approaches the water, and she draws her bow back, holds the string with her wire fingers effortlessly. There are three bears there: juveniles, males from their shape and size. She aims at the closest one, growling at her from the edge of the falls, and makes ready to fire
Something comes to her. Her brothers, the cake, the promise she made them in the kitchens all those years ago. She lowers her bow, nods her head faintly.
“Boys?” The bears stare back with cold black eyes. Then, slowly, they turn and leave. Merida feels an ache in her heart, the scar of a scream in her bones, a tragedy on the fringe of her family's tapestry. Merida feels a private disaster, a call to her mother at the back of her throat, hot moisture at the edge of her eyes.
She buries it deep inside of her.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
~DKL
Reply
Leave a comment