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It was way below freezing and Merida was sincerely unimpressed. She had her heavy woollen cloak pulled tight around her frame as she snuggled against Angus for warmth. She was a damned fool for thinking this might work, but she couldn’t bring herself to just mount her horse and leave. When it came to anyone else her patience was nonexsistent, but when it was Elsa… Merida would drive herself insane trying to make it work. Trying to get the Queen of Arendelle to just let her in, to trust her. And somehow Merida always ended up with her bottom in the snow and her fingers slowly turning blue. Everyone was right to call her stubborn, Merida wished with all she was that that was the only thing that had her coming back every time Elsa ran off. It wasn’t. She was in love. She was in love with someone who denied themselves any emotion. In love with someone constantly making excuses, constantly denying their feelings.
--And Merida knew, she knew, that Elsa felt the same. She knew it from the flowers of ice, she knew it from the light laughter and soft smiles. She knew Elsa loved her too, because it was all she had to hold on to while she waited for her queen to return to the spot they had promised to meet.
Angus whinnied, Merida bit her lip. “She’s gonna be here, Angus. She is.”
They had met years prior and Merida had seen a challenge in the frigid queen. It had taken weeks for Elsa to even be tricked into simple conversation with the Scottish princess. Still Merida had weaseled her way into a friendship. More than that even.
But then Merida had kissed her, and Elsa ran. But she promised
Elsa had promised.
Merida blinked again, taking in the empty, cold, forest around her; then she let her head fall onto Angus’ back as her eyes closed.
Merida had received a letter from Elsa just a few days before, a simple short letter, saying that she had to figure out how she felt but she would meet Merida under the full moon. In the clearing where they had kissed.
Elsa was far too late, there was no way Merida would still be waiting. A meeting with the royal advisor had been scheduled without her notice, a stupid excuse, she couldn’t get out. As she broke through the clearing the only thing she could see was the shivering form of the princess she loved. Without another thought Elsa ran over to the collapsed Scottish girl and gathered her in her arms, willing away the cold as she whispered apologies. She hadn’t meant to run, truly she hadn’t. For weeks before—for weeks Elsa had returned to her mantra; conceal, don’t feel. There couldn’t be a chance that her affections were returned.
And then Merida had kissed her, and Elsa ran.
But she wouldn’t run, not again. Merida made her feel, Merida made her warm. She felt warm, and loved.
“Elsa?”
She let out a soft cry and held Merida closer, resting her forehead against her lover’s.
She felt a soft hand on her cheek and slowly lifted her head to meet Merida’s shocking blue eyes, “Ah knew ye would come.”
“Merida, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“
“Just kiss me, you idiot.”
Elsa laughed and leaned down to press her lips against Merida’s. It wasn’t chaste like when Merida had kissed her, in an instant her hands were tangled in red curls and Elsa furiously blamed Merida for never using a brush. “I may be an idiot,” Elsa murmured, breath fanning against Merida’s lips, “But that does not counter the fact that I am utterly, irrevocably in love with you.”