Photo not mine- but it seemed relevant to the chapter.
12th Century Scotland
My cheek was pressed against the cold wooden table, my bare feet barely touched the ground from my feet on the kitchen chair. I push air out of my cheeks, boredom seeping into my limbs, over taking the sense of exhaustion from today's duties.
"Merida, up you go." The Castle lead cook pulled my chair out from underneath me and I slump onto the stone palace floor. I stared up at her in defiance. "Help with the bowls." She orders, pointing towards the washing station. Bubbling water was already waiting beside a pile of porcelain dishes.
"I'm not a servant. That's you job." I spit back, and she grabs me by the arm roughly. I yowl in frustration and anger, pushing her off the best I could and taking off up the stone stairs, my small feet and strong frame carrying me quickly up and I swing open the weak wooden door by the latch.
A server in peasant wear comes walking towards the kitchen, carrying a couple trays. I snatch a piece of fruit from the platter, sticking it into my mouth.
The servant yells at me as I pass, swiping their hand out to grab me. I duck just in time. Their hand only clasping air where my red hair had been a moment before. My light delicate child laugher echoes in the Halls as I run through them.
I bite into the fruit, the texture and juices of an apple filling my mouth. I slow to a walk, pulling my green dress up to not step on it, and carry on down the hallway, waving to the guards as I pass by. They don't move from their positions but a good few send me smiles and slight waves back with their hands.
My red curls bounce on my shoulders as I heave open the door to the courtyard, throwing the stem of my Apple aside. "Where are you off to lass?" The stable boy asks, passing with two horses. I smile up at him. A few years elder than I. I smooth my dress quickly, following the black haired boy with pretty green eyes and dirt smeared on his hands and cheeks.
"To see you." I answer, following him into the stables and watching as he returns the Mare and Stallion to their own space, locking the wood gates behind them. He strokes them before turning back to me. His light skin red in places from his work that day. "Say, do you know how to ride, Michael?" I ask him, combing my unruly hair back desperately with my fingers.
"No. I know how to cut shoes." He replies, grabbing the rake used to muck the stables and a nearby bucket. His accent from the Northern part of Scotland.
"But you spend all day with them. Wouldn't you want to ride them?" I ask, following him to the far end of the stables where he pushes the doors open and leads into the barn.
"I cannot dream of such things." He replies to me, smiling with the small kind smile that I'd always loved. It was contagious and I felt my own self smiling back, watching as he gracefully puts the rake with the others and carries the bucket with him to the goat pin. "I'm the son of a seamstress in North Scotland, Lady Merida. My future is about as bright as the dark stables I muck out." He tells me.
"I'm afraid my fate as well." I agree. Michael looks at me, smiling softly.
"No. You've got a pure and long future ahead of you." He taps my chin. I look out of the open window, looking over the surrounding village and the garden in full bloom of fruits and richness. Groomers were out picking at this time and carried baskets with them to put the apples and other treasured ripe growths. Beyond that the main road leading up to the palace had a group of horses and carriages trudging up.
"What is that Michael?" I ask. He meets me by the window, squinting at the group heading straight for the castle.
"Perhaps traders. Or knights. Your father has sent out for new knights from around this Kingdom and that to serve in the Royal guard." He informs me. I lean out of the window.
"They look like knights." I agree. "I've got to see. Are you coming?" I ask, pulling open the small door to the pig's outside pin.
"No, I've got my duties here to finish. Tell Erion and Mordred when you learn of who they are." He requests, not voicing it as a demand as everyone else does of me.
"Erion doesn't like me much." I retort, scoffing.
"Run along or you'll miss them." The black haired boy replies, amusement on his face. I shut the door, smiling wide as I run through the pig pin and out through the twine fence. I twine it back together but hastily and not the best as it was. I was too excited to worry about the pig's getting out so I didn't bother knotting it tight.
I run down the dirt pathway, my bare feet hidden beneath my green dress. The soles of my work toes were burning with the work of the day. As I make it in through the castle gates and into the courtyard I loose my momentum. My right foot catching on the bottom of my dress. My mouth forms a wide 'O' as I am launched forwards and into the fountain.
I sit up, gasping for air, water streaming off my hair and dress. I stand up quickly. Taking all but a moment before running into the castle and heading straight for the Throne Room. One of the largest rooms in the palace. It was a few doors down from mess hall.
I hear loud voices and slow down, peaking around the corner. Inside tall knights stood. Visitors. My red curly hair was damp with water and my dress still dripped onto the stone floor. I listen to them for only a single peaceful moment before my arm was snatched up harshly and I yelp, being pulled roughly into the Throne room. All the visitors turn to me and watch as the Lead Cook pulls me, soaking wet, towards the King.
"Let me go!" I scream, my tiny voice echoing in the large room. Then quiet as the Blue eyes of the King rest on my damp figure on the floor, my arm being twisted upwards painfully by Norma, the Lead Cook.
"This one has been sulking in her duties." Norma says. I whimper quietly, fearing what might my punishment be. The wrath of King Fergus was not something to want or even think to know. "She's stole an apple and she's fell into the Koi Pond twice this week." She gestures to my soaked from head to toe figure. I couldn't plea guilty but I did pull out of her grasp in a sudden movement, taking a firm step away from her and holding my chin high as I address my father.
"Koi Fountain." I correct the Lead Cook. "A pond is filthy and unkept but that outside is a fountain." I point defiantly out the doors, towards the courtyard. "I clean it meself."
"With your dirty feet?" Norma sneers grabbing my arm again.
"That is quite enough." The King's massive voice booms throughout the room and I immediately stop squirming, glancing at the guests a moment in overwhelming curiosity. Many of them looked back at me in Amusement and with a sort of impressed smile at my courage. Or rebellion as many would call it. "Escort her to her Chambers. If nothing but embarrassing me in front of noble guests." He orders to the guard standing like a sentinel. "Feed her nothing until she learns to keep her greedy fingers to herself."
I gape at him. "You'd deny your own daughter food?!" I challenge. The King turns his angry expression onto me, and I felt the need to cower. To hide from his anger. To disappear. But instead my dripping wet hair had made a puddle on the floor. And my own words were slapped back into my face with the next opening of his large and commanding mouth.
"You are the daughter of my mistress, not mine!" His voice booms. My shoulders droop, suddenly no longer interested in food. Nor the guests that had watched this unfold with wide and worried eyes. The guard takes me by the arm. I wanted to struggle out of his iron grip but with the wrath of the powerful king focused on me, I did not.
The next thing I know I'm being pushed into my Chambers and the heavy door is slammed behind me. I turn around and see my servant who was more of my friend rather. "Mordred?" I call to him hopefully.
"Milady." He extends out his hand. Mordred was more or less my age. Eleven. He was raised by servants who plucked him from the orphanage. He was appointed my servant after my Wet Nurse died from illness. From that point forward we had been friends. However, he still sometimes insisted to call me by royal names. It was because of this that Erion, his friend, thought of me as a royal.
"Call me Merida, Mordred." I remind him, taking his hand. I stand up and rub my head. "My father's voice is loud."
"I've warmed water for you." He gestures to the large bucket in the dressing area of my Chambers. I stand up, thanking him.
"You're relieved from your duties today. Make sure the guards don't catch you on the way out. They'll be in a nasty mood standing outside my Chambers again." I warn him.
"Are you sure Merida?" He asks. I nod quickly.
"Send word of the guests in the court soon. I fear that may be my only entertainment." I request as he goes to leave.
"Guests?"
"I pray you'll know of them soon enough." I answer and at that Mordred's blonde hair and tan robes of a servant disappear. At once when I'm alone I strip from my wet clothes and sinking into the bucket, warm water soothing my muscles.
After washing up, I pull on my white tunic, and brown capris. I lay on the cold stone floor, combing my drying red curls with a wide tooth pick. It splays out on the cold stone. I stare at the ceiling, again boredom seeping into my arms and when the time comes to dine my stomach growls at the mere thought of the feast the King and my siblings were having.
The sun slowly sinks and I get up to light my lanterns and candles, flickering yellow light dancing across my chambers.
It wasn't until much later that my doors cracked open. A curly blonde head pokes in, and dark blue eyes meet my own. I jump up. "Francis!"
"Shh. The guards have just gone." My little brother shushes me, stepping in and closing the doors behind himself. He pulls out a couple muffins and other food wrapped in napkins. "I brought you dinner. As well as news." He tells me excitedly. I gratefully unwrap the napkins, taking a bite of the muffin and sticking a slice of cheese into my mouth.
"Well what is it then?" I ask, looking up at him with my ice eyes suddenly renewed with spirit and life.
"The guests are Nobleman and Knights. They are a family. Four brothers and a sister." He replies boastfully as I eat, hanging onto his every word with excitement. "Sir NiKlaus, Elijah, Kol, and Finn. Also the lovely Lady Rebekah." Francis flicks his hair from his forehead in Glee. "They seem to have charmed Father into staying here. Becoming apart of his counsel." He explains to me. I smile slightly.
"From which clan are they?"
"Mikaelson. Never heard of them. From Central Europe, I guess." He says.
"How did you manage to sneak this past everyone?" I hold up the napkins, now half the food was gone.
"Father was too busy apologizing for your behavior and telling stories of hunting to notice myself sneaking food into my pockets." Francis dismisses my worry. I fold the napkins.
"If he learns of it your efforts would all be for not as I'd have my neck upon a chopping block." I begin, panic rising.
"You're my sister, and his daughter. He wouldn't see you dead."
"You greatly underestimate our father, Francis." I reply. "He's starving me for heaven's sake."
"That's for your own good." He says firmly. "Listen. You'll be let out for early mass tomorrow. Lady Athol will wait for you early outside your doors." Francis adds urgently, knowing if he's missing much longer then it'll be noticed.
"Why am I being allowed to go to mass?" I ask him, confused. The way the King sees it, if you misbehave you cannot have any faith to any god. Much less to the Roman Catholic Church. Hell if they say they themselves are Gods. As though to misbehave the king, is to misbehave the God. I thought it all to be rubbish, but I dare not say so out loud.
"The new guests have met us all at supper. They haven't met you formally. They'll be attending the Mass as well." My little brother tells me.
"They must be mad, requesting such a thing of the King after just entering the castle." I gape.
"It was the Sir NiKlaus who requested as such. It seems you owe him words of gratitude for convincing our father to let you attend the Mass." Francis smiles at me and then squeezes my shoulder, picking up the empty napkins, slipping it into his tunic and closing the door behind him. "Goodnight sister." He whispers as the doors close.
I sit on the stone floor, my wild curly hair now mostly dry on my shoulders as I sigh. "Goodnight brother." I respond to empty space.
Length: 2354 words