Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A shrill agonising scream of a young woman was overtaken by a loud bright cry of a babe.

The ordeal was finally over. Long hours of patiently enduring the forced separation had been rewarded by a shrill cry of a babe.

“It’s a girl, lad,” one of the midwives chimed in, wearing a bright smile on her tired face. “The mother and the bairn are both fine. Ye can come in now.” She disappeared into the living quarters of their home, where Maudie and the other midwives were busy cleaning Merida and the babe up, as well as tidying up the room before taking their leave.

A moment of hesitation stopped the burly man from following the midwife’s encouragement. He was obviously overtaken by a flood of warmth enveloping his body, but he could not believe his eyes.

He was becoming a father. It seemed like yesterday that he was the last of his forgotten clan. Now that he had found himself becoming the father of a new generation, he could not contain his newfound surge of nervousness, excitement, happiness, and love.

All Mor’du could do was to follow the midwife’s gentle encouragement, leaving the separate room to rush to his wife’s bedside. To his relief, Merida had done quite well, despite her exhaustion from long hours of going through the agonising quest to bring their bairn out into the world. Her smile was one of the brightest he had ever seen in his new life, despite her dishevelled appearance and her fair face being wet with trickles of sweat and tears. Her arms cradled the small babe wrapped in a swaddle of white cloths, who was engrossed in suckling her mother’s breast.

“Merida,” he murmured as he pulled his lips into hers, gently kissing her. “You fought bravely.”

“Thank you, mo leannan,” she silently giggled. “It was really painful, but worth it. And I just can’t believe we have a daughter. I’ve half expected it to be a son, so we could ensure our line will continue through.”

“A daughter?” His reaction could not contain the shock he had just experienced, but later softened into fondness. “Let me take a look at her.”

“As you wish. Be nice and gentle to her, right?” As if on a cue, the babe opened and stretched her mouth to yawn. Merida pulled her from her breast and carefully transferred her into her father’s strong arms.

It was a long time since Mor’du held a babe in his arms, but it seemed like the first time that he was holding the fragile thing. It reminded him of the son he had borne from his first wife, but mother and son had been taken away by death itself soon after birth. Now that he was holding it again—especially from his second wife (and love of his whole life), he hoped that they would survive this time around. The babe’s gender didn’t matter to him anymore—he had fervently wished for his daughter to grow up strong and healthy, and to be a force to be reckoned with, just like her mother. To him, she was the very first seedling of Clan Galbraith, with the promise to grow and flourish like a tall tree.

His gaze focused on his baby daughter, who was the most beautiful babe he had laid eyes upon. She inherited most of her father’s handsome features, with the exception of the tiny curls on her head, fair pinkish complexion, and ocean-blue eyes—both taken after her brave mother. The curls themselves were as fine as flaxen threads, but had the potential to darken as the girl would grow up—another trait inherited from her father. And she was quite large for a newborn—the reason her mother had a significantly hard time carrying her around in the womb through the last six months, and even so, giving her mother the longer hours of labour to fight through. With her serene features, one could not believe that she was the daughter of the former demon bear who had terrorised her family long ago—and had been bound to the headstrong princess, thanks to twists of fate and magic.

The breathtaking sight of her, complete with the gentle cooing sound as sweet as a birdsong, was enough to bring tears to Mor’du’s mismatched eyes as he brought her head to his lips for a gentle peck. 

“Latha math, mo ghràidh bheag,” he greeted his daughter in Gaelic. He was planning to pass on his fluent Gaelic skills to her, while incorporating Merida’s mostly Beurla tongue for a familial multilingual environment. He ran his large finger to her soft cheeks and hung it for her to cling on, which she did so with a firm grip. “I am your father, your dadaidh. Welcome to Clan Galbraith, my little jewel. Someday, you will be as brave as your fair mother, and your great deeds will prevail on our land. But for now, sleep well, m’eudail.” The babe continued cooing and smiling at her father as if to understand his every single word.

He softly chuckled as he hummed a familiar, but long-forgotten lullaby while rocking her in his strong arms. Merida did not expect him to choose the familiar tune, but she was ecstatic at that piece of her family history being passed on to their daughter as well.

“A naoidhean bhig, cluinn mo ghuth
Mise ri d' thaobh, Ó mhaighdean bhàn
Ar rìbhinn òg, fàs a's faic
Do thìr, dìleas fhéin…”

The soft deep voice of her father, complete with the gentle rocking motion, were enough to send the babe into the dream realm, where she would enjoy the wonderful visions her parents had painted for her. Once she was finally asleep, she was gently returned into her mother’s arms, who in turn placed her on a wooden cradle next to the bed.

Her parents had forgotten one thing—what should they name her. Fortunately, her father had one in mind.

They named her Raghnaid, a strong-sounding name, but feminine, in a way that it had rung. He said that he got it from a female Viking warrior whom he once fought at one battle.

With his wife and daughter finally asleep after a long day, Mor’du was content on keeping a protective vigil on them. Outside, darkness had already enveloped, so it made sense for them to fall asleep. He spread a woollen tartan blanket around his wife, kissing both mother and daughter on their foreheads, and then wrapped himself around one side of it as he settled down beside them. Nothing in this world had compared to the newfound peace that prevailed between the little family of three—after all the trials that they had gone through, they deserved it.

Chapter Text

The birth of Raghnaid marked a new era in the Galbraith couple’s joint life not only with immense joy, but also with bewilderment and difficulty. As new parents, they were faced with a new set of challenges on their way.

Just as Merida thought that the pains of bringing her child into the world were over, she was sorely mistaken.

The first time she held her newborn daughter in her arms, her maternal instincts took over as she latched her into her waiting breast. At first, she flinched and bit her lip as if she were bitten a bit too hard, but Maudie told her that this was normal for new mothers like her. As she provided the life-giving milk to her baby, not only her nursing breast ached, but also her belly–which was beginning to show signs of shrinking after nine months of growing into roundness.

The moments of afterbirth ecstasy—of her husband complimenting her warmly of her bravery in the most difficult quest of her life, relishing the moment Mor’du meeting their daughter for the first time which concluded with singing that childhood lullaby while learning to rock her to sleep, and giving her a fitting name for a warrior’s daughter—proved to be a soothing balm for all the pains she had endured in pushing the baby out into the world. Now, she could finally rest from all that.

Until reality hit Merida the moment she woke up.

For her, becoming a mother came with a price—taking responsibility for every cry from her baby’s lips.

At first, she found herself accommodating to her daughter’s every need, whether she was hungry, needed cleaning, or in need of company. The first time she discovered the first gooey-dark excrement coming from her tiny bottom after nursing her, she had tried her best not to focus on the smell as she diligently cleaned up after her daughter. Soon, she was so focused on attending to Raghnaid’s every need that she delegated her husband and Maudie to take charge of the various housework such as cooking food, looking after their cow Peigi, a little flock of sheep and their bearded sheepdog Alpin, cleaning the house, tending to their backyard garden, among others. Her bond with Raghnaid seemed indifferent and relying on maternal instinct alone at first as she was focused on nursing her, but warmed up to her over time as she found a way to bond with her baby—by telling her stories about her family and singing a familiar lullaby that her mother Elinor used to sing during moments of sadness. When it was finally time for her to sleep, she reluctantly entrusted her baby to Mor’du, who was more than happy to comply.

“Shhh, na bi a’ caoineadh, m’eudail,” he whispered as he tried his best to calm his crying daughter, who was not ready to let go of her exhausted mother. His heart ached at the sight. “Your mamaidh is tired and needs to rest. I – your dadaidh – am taking care of you now.”

But Raghnaid continued to wail while her father kept rocking her gently. Her wails began to annoy him as he kept calming her with repeated reassurances while his mind frantically searched for other ways.

Suddenly, Mor’du had an idea.

He walked out of their house with Raghnaid in his arms, strolling with her through the backyard garden where the family crops were grown, towards the grove where a few rows of bell heather and other flowering plants were grown. The grove was where he and Merida used to spend their quiet times together, in tender love and occasional passion. Now he would spend his quiet times there, this time with his baby daughter.

“Do ye like the place?” he asked her as he sat beside a clump of bell heathers. “It has lovely flowers growing here, and I think there are fairies hiding somewhere.” The babe’s cries gradually slowed down to whimpers, showing signs of being comforted amidst sudden changes.

“Now, that’s my wee lass,” he chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead as he cuddled her close. “Do ye want a story? T’was about a mother who bragged her bairn a bit too much that the fairies switched him for a changeling as a punishment.”

And so the burly man went on to tell his daughter a tale of a young mother who thought her bairn was the bonniest in the world. In those times, it was unlucky to brag out loud, lest the fairies might take revenge on anyone who said it. Alas, the poor young mother let the words of excess praise to her bairn slip out of her mouth for her neighbours to hear. They warned her about the dangers of excess praise, but the mother took no notice until one day, when she went out to pick berries in the forest with her babe. She didn’t notice when she laid him on the patch of grassy ground and went on with her berry-picking, until a strange cry suddenly reached her ears.

Thinking that the cry came from her babe, she soothed him, but his cries would not stop, not even when the mother went home frightened at the realisation. His cries subsided when she fed him not with milk, but with solid foods that adults usually ate. He had eaten so much, but alas, he never thrived and grew like any other bairn. Only his head grew to be twice as big as a normal bairn’s, but the rest of his body was as thin as a sickly one.

Soon, the sorry sight of a strange babe was swiftly known to the mother’s neighbours, whose word eventually went to the wise old woman, who lived on her own beyond the village. And that was when the mother realised that the babe in her arms was not hers, but a changeling.

Sensing the younger mother’s strange but expected predicament, the older woman commanded the young mother to fetch her a bundle of grass and a shawl that she laid her bairn on. She did so, but on the condition that she would not interfere the old woman’s work until it was done. The old woman proceeded to heat a large cauldron with boiling water, and with a strange incantation, threw the wrapped grassy bundle, changeling baby and all, into the cauldron.

Suddenly, the changeling lept out and screamed with the voice of a grown adult, begging to be saved from the certain boiling death. Out of the door came the fairy woman, who snatched the changeling baby and threw the human baby into the young mother’s arms. From then on, the young mother was careful not to be too boastful of her babe.

A sudden scream ended a quiet familial moment between father and daughter. A young woman scampered out of the house, wailing like a banshee.

“Mor’du! Help! They have taken my wee Raghnaid! They have taken—”

“Merida, what is wrong?” he asked with utter concern as he pulled his weeping wife into his strong arms.

“I’ve just woken up… and she was gone… I thought they have kidnapped our bairn…”

“Wee Raghnaid is still with us, don’t ye worry.”

As if his words were not enough, he gently handed the quiet babe into her mother’s arms, whose cries of distress were swiftly replaced with cries of relief.

“Mor’du, how would you manage—”

“I’ve just bonded with her. I just told her a story, and I can tell that she liked it,” he chuckled, still baffled at how Merida just burst out of the door unannounced. “How are ye doing now, m’eudail?”

“I’m feeling a bit better now, my belly is still aching, but other than that, I’m feeling much better now.”

“Now, now, try to rest a bit more,” he reassured her, pressing a quick peck on her messy wrapped head. “And don’t forget to feed wee Raghnaid.”

Before they knew it, they ventured back inside the house. Merida was back in her caring routine—feeding, changing, and soothing her baby, while Mor’du lended a helping hand while his wife was too exhausted to accomplish her maternal duties. He had grown to bond with his daughter even more with his collection of stories and playful lessons in Gaelic—he did not even care if Raghnaid had understood them, as long as he loved her with a paternal care in his heart.

Chapter Text

The sudden changes startled Maudie. Now that the three boys had gradually grown into independent teenagers with a sense of rebellion, a pang of sorrow struck her. Aside from the fact that they were no longer rambunctious little boys in need of her care, they would be forging paths of their own, discovering themselves and sometimes being careless in the process. Maudie felt that her services were no longer needed, at least in DunBroch castle. At least she would be free to return to her home along Loch Lomond and to marry Conan, the tall, burly warrior whom she fancied with.

But Queen Elinor had other plans for her, which took the nursemaid by surprise.

Elinor’s married daughter Merida was pregnant and was due to give birth in a few months’ time. Maudie would be taking care of Merida in the remaining months of her pregnancy and would help her in the most important—and dangerous—ordeal of her life. Besides, Maudie would use her skills as a nursemaid to help raise the latter’s child, and to help in the upkeep of their home.

Maudie was torn at first—she was ready to return home after years of being away and to answer the affections of a burly warrior. But Elinor praised her for her loyalty to the royal family and her untiring dedication for her part in raising the triplets into well-rounded young men, which was enough to accept her newfound assignment with confidence and gratitude, but with sadness. For she would be leaving the royal DunBroch family behind, the very clan whom she was well-acquainted with ever since she first came to them when the boys were but wee bairns. At least she had someone related to the royal family to work for.

When the time came for Merida and her burly husband Mor’du to move into their new home, Maudie went with them, but not before declining Conan’s flirtations with a heavy heart. Even though she liked him, she decided to postpone marriage to focus on her duty as a housemaid. Conan honoured her decision, saying that he would wait for her whenever she needed him. But eventually, the way her new master and mistress were deeply in love with each other made her weep, for it reminded her too much of her dormant love and longing for Conan. Merida comforted her, saying that love would always find a way, giving her a renewed sense of hope that she and her own warrior would eventually be reunited when the time was right.

Maudie proved herself to be an asset to the family, especially when she helped Merida bring her child into the world together with her little team of midwives. She also served as a host whenever Merida’s family and a few friends came to congratulate her and to bring presents. Elinor would temporarily assign her diplomatic duties to her trusted advisor in order to visit her daughter, and together with her son-in-law Mor’du, she attended the christening of her granddaughter at the DunBroch chapel a few days after birth (as was the custom at that time). Maudie stayed behind, tending to Merida, who was recovering from the pains of childbirth. She would attend to the chores at the house by the time the baby was back in Merida’s arms, following a minor argument involving who would tend to the baby. It was a deviation from tradition, which dictated that maids would be in charge of raising the baby, while the mother (especially from a royal background like Merida) would lie down in bed to recover for around a month. But Merida’s headstrong and maternal nature won, saying that she would not part from her daughter (with the exception of her husband, who had done well in caring for the baby).

The first time Elinor held her new granddaughter, she immediately warmed up to her. It had been a long time since she held a babe, but it felt like the first time to her. But alas, she didn't bond with her properly because of lack of time, added by the fact that she had royal tasks to attend to. So she had no choice but to part with her granddaughter, hoping that they would be reunited some other day.

Sleepless nights spent attending to her newborn daughter’s needs had taken a toll on Merida.

As a result, she was not in her best condition. Her energy levels had been draining out of her body, taking the pleasure out of nursing her baby and turning it into a mere chore. Her mood swings returned, being ecstatic and in a motherly love with Raghnaid one day, to being emotionally detached from her the next. In other words, she was a fragile emotional wreck.

Having just handed Raghnaid over to Maudie after a tiring feeding session one night, she returned to their bed and bowed her head, racking her body as she quietly wept. 

“What’s wrong, a ghràidh ?” Mor’du asked, sitting down by his wife’s side.

“I’m afraid…I’m not a very good mother to our baby.” Merida struggled to form these words in-between sobs. “I sometimes wish I had not been pregnant and given birth.”

“Why?”

“Because… being there for her is… just too much…” With that, she leaned forward into her husband’s chest, tears flowing from her face into his woolen tunic.

Mor’du did not say a word for a while. He was overcome with worry as his strong arms wrapped around his wife’s weeping form. Her average build was dwarfed by his own tall muscular one, her head stopping just below his broad shoulders, yet she was usually a brave and headstrong soul who would speak her mind and fiercely guide him through everything. Now, she seemed fragile and in such an emotional turmoil that his heart broke for her all over again at witnessing such distress. 

“Hush now, it’s all right, m’eudail ,” he murmured as his large hand gently caressed her trembling back whilst cradling her as they sat on their bed. “You have done a great job. No matter how much you have worked hard to raise her, our wee Raghnaid will always appreciate that. And for that—and for bravely bringing her into the world—just remember that she loves you, and will always love you—and us, too.”

Unable to say anything due to her sobs, she could only nod.

Little by little, her sobs began to subside, being helped by the realisation that he was humming to her. A song that she had never heard before, but oddly comforting. That, together with her husband’s soothing caresses and little kisses on her head, was enough to finally fall asleep after a few nights of being deprived of sleep.

As for wee Raghnaid, her belly was full and would not need to be returned to her tired mother’s arms for a while until she would cry for it. For Maudie had done a good job comforting her like she comforted the babe’s three uncles when they were young. Once she had placed the sleeping Raghnaid back to the cradle, she retired to her bed, which was situated in a different room than her masters’ one.

As always, Mor’du stayed by his wife’s side as she slept, also keeping an eye on their equally-sleeping daughter on the cradle. Candlelight was put out, letting the moonlight cast its faint but lovely glow on the sleeping Merida by the window, lovingly wrapped in a woolen tartan blanket for warmth. He gently ran a hand on her sleeping face and planted a quick kiss on her cheek before lying down on the other side of their bed with his arm wrapped around her. Out of loving concern for her, he took great care not to get too intimate yet as he was aware of her condition. He would give her time for her body to recover before they could enjoy themselves again physically. 

—

Merida’s symptoms did not go away, but became manageable over time. For now, she nursed Raghnaid only when she was hungry, and let Maudie take care of the rest of her daughter’s needs, leaving the redhead to finally have free time to spend for herself and her husband. But as she was recovering, she would not let herself be intimate with Mor’du too much until she was fully healed. Besides, with a new child to raise, she would not be having another one any time soon, unless she might change her mind.

While Maudie was busy gently washing Raghnaid, Merida got into playing the Ard Rí board game again with Mor’du, thanks to his suggestion. It had been a long time since she last played it—especially in bed, but it had brought her a bit of pleasure, reminding her of the days when they were first getting to know each other. The match ended with the burly man winning, which was punctuated with laughter that lightened Merida’s emotional load.

Besides playing the board game, she had a few hobbies to pass the free time, such as embroidering small pieces, singing Gaelic songs with her harp (with her husband teaching and accompanying her in song), and exchanging stories with him (accompanied by a meal of hearty pottage and a small piece of bread). These hobbies helped her ease the stress brought by child rearing.

As for wee Raghnaid, she was brought into her mother’s arms to be fed and soothed, and the rest of her care was divided between Maudie and her father. Her maid would take charge in maintaining cleanliness through bathing, washing, and changing soiled clothes, while her father would take care of the rest—mostly keeping her company through telling her stories and songs from good memories of his old life. He also took great delight in playing and joking with her, reliving the young carefree days of growing up with his three younger brothers. Sometimes he would take her to her mother to hear the lovely music being played by the latter, thus bringing the small family closer together. 

With everyone in the small Galbraith household involved in child rearing, things looked promising for the new mother and child. Merida’s churching ceremony would commence in about a month’s time. With joy, she looked forward to it, when she could go out again and receive a thanksgiving blessing in the chapel with her family.

Chapter Text

Merida found herself in the great hall of a castle, but not the DunBroch one. Yet it looked familiar to her, only lost in distant memory. She turned around to glance at her burly husband with wee Raghnaid securely held in his arms. Nonetheless, she was lost and confused. Even Raghnaid wailed at the unfamiliar sight of her surroundings.

“Ist ist, a stubag,” he whispered to his daughter as he rocked her gently in an effort to calm her. “We’re going to meet your uncles today, shall we?”

“Where are we?” Merida asked him. “I should have been back at home, still recovering!”

“We’re at my family’s castle, Merida. Don’t you recognise that?” He was met with a confused glance from his wife. “It’s from your mum’s stories about me, aye?”

“Aye, I remember that! And where are your brothers?”

“They’re right here!” 

As if on cue, three young men appeared out of nowhere, their looks mistaken for triplets with silken dark-brown hair that matched Mor’du’s, but their faces were graced with thin beards and ready smiles. They were skinny and were dwarfed by the fourth man in terms of size. They were bedecked with leather suits and tartans that were unmistakably the colours and patterns of Clan Galbraith. Their eldest brother was also bedecked in the same tartan as theirs, but his outer tunic covered most of his blue tattoos and battle-worn scars with its earthy green colour, and the long sleeves of his inner tunic left the rest of them invisible, leaving a small portion of his body decor exposed into the backs of his large capable hands. 

“A bhràthair!”

“My brother is back!”

“Grifud brother, how I’ve missed you!”

Mor’du passed the baby into her mother’s arms.The three brothers’ joyous shouts could be heard as he embraced each of them, surges of emotion evident. They were a little baffled at first (one of them looked a bit resentful)—given their falling-out with him leading to their deaths—but they were ready to forgive him, however serious his sin.

When the four brothers broke away from their embrace, it was the eldest brother’s turn to introduce his wife and daughter to them. They were astonished to learn how the new couple had met at a different timeline than theirs—thanks to twists of fate and the witch’s magic—in which he had resurrected as a man after his bear form (and his evil self) was crushed by the large stone. He had met the red-haired princess who was just as headstrong as him, and the rest was history. He had become a changed man, thanks to her. The baby in Merida’s arms was the fruit of their profound love that sprang forth from the unlikely bond, and the brothers could not help but marvel at their sweet niece.

Their attention turned to their sister-in-law, who was glancing back with a bit of shyness, but with a glow of pride resonating in her. Raghnaid’s bright blue eyes also focused on her new uncles.

“Your High—I mean, Merida,” the second brother began as he cautiously brought her hand to his lips as a gesture of gentility. “We thank you for saving our brother with your love. If it weren’t for you, he would’ve been cursed to roam as a wisp forever. We are forever grateful for that.”

It was the third brother’s turn to speak. “As a token of gratitude, please accept this gift as a blessing.” He pulled something from his sporran and transferred it into Merida’s hands. It turned out to be a golden brooch, highly ornate and studded with a few gemstones of ruby and emerald on each of the four sides. Due to its ancient craftsmanship (it was first made when the three brothers were still alive), it was no doubt rare and valuable.

“It is beautiful,” Merida breathed as she admired it in her hands. “Tapadh leibh.”

“‘S e do bheatha. You’re most welcome. It is an heirloom brooch worn by our father when he was alive. So we would like to give this to you as a reminder that you belong to Clan Galbraith.”

The youngest brother was the last to bestow a blessing to his sister-in-law. Like his brother before him, he fumbled for something from his sporran and pulled out a woolen doll. It was a likeness of what his youngest sister would've looked like as a young woman had she survived past childbirth. It hurt to let go of his sentimental treasure, but at least it had found its use as a toy for wee Raghnaid.

“Looks like she is going to love her new companion,” he remarked with delight as he watched his niece place her mouth on its stuffed hand. He was no doubt Mor’du’s favourite brother due to his personality mirroring his eldest’s gentle side.

Soon, it was time for the three princes to bid farewell. First, they hugged their eldest brother, promising that they would meet again in another dream. They did the same to their sister-in-law, with kisses being planted on their niece’s little head. Lastly, they whispered blessings of happiness to the couple and their child before departing into the ethereal realm.

“Merida, ‘tis the fortieth day. Get up and get dressed!”

The cheery sound of Maudie’s voice was enough to startle the redhead awake. Due to her grogginess, it took her a while to realise that forty days had passed since she pushed wee Raghnaid out with great agony. That meant that the recovery period was coming to an end, and she had a ritual to take part.

To her astonishment and delight, she found the doll and the brooch sitting on the table in front of their bed. It was a mystery how they got there from the dream with the spirits of her brothers-in-law, but at least she was simply delighted.

For the first time in a long while, Maudie was focused on dressing her mistress in her best dress. She wore an improved version of her light blue silk dress, with expanded skirts and outer sleeves allowing her freedom of movement. Golden borders with ornate embroidery adorned the edges, befitting the status of its wearer. To complete the look, she placed a necklace on her neck, with the pendant gracing the stylised Celtic head of a bear, the emblem of Mor’du’s clan which she shared since her marriage to him a year ago. For ceremonial purposes, a white linen veil covered her red curls, which was braided and tightly bound in a coiled bun.

Her husband looked more like a proper Laird by the way he was splendidly dressed in his green-and-blue Galbraith tartan draping from his left shoulder down to his waist, with the rest of it hanging gracefully down to his knees. His inner and outer tunics were splendidly dyed in golden earthy colours, cleverly hiding most of the tattoos and scars. Of course, the tartan would not be complete without his late father’s golden brooch, which held it just below his left shoulder.

Maudie was also bedecked in the more ornate version of her humble dress, and wee Raghnaid in her simple white linen dress, swaddled with white cloths around the baby’s body and the smaller woolen tartan blanket wrapping around the swaddle. A strip of white ribbon in linen adorned her tiny head full of thin brown curls. All in all, the whole family was ready for the celebration.

Just outside the stone chapel, Father Finbar, together with two of his monks in brown woolen habits, proceeded to sprinkle Merida with holy water and prayers, before finally escorting her into the chapel in front of her standing family and friends, chanting the following prayer in Latin:

“Ingredere in templum dei vivi et ora filium virginis Mariae, qui dedit tibi fecunditatem prolis pariendae, ut concedat tibi vitam aeternam et vias in saecula saeculorum. Amen.”

Of course, Merida did not understand a bit of Latin like everyone else, but she did not care, for attending masses like that was a spiritual benefit, almost like a charm or a spell of protection. And she was here to thank whatever deity the monks provided for the survival and protection she had received during the most important (and dangerous) phase of her life. Some young mothers like her did not live to experience a solemn rite like this, but Merida was grateful that she was not among the unfortunate ones.

Father Finbar was an older red-haired Irish priest, sent all the way from an abbey in Iona to administer spiritual activities to the people of Dunbroch and its surrounding area, including baptisms, weddings, funerals, and the like (the royal family was no exception, and he administered the baptism of Mor’du before his marriage to Merida, altering his name to Murchadh or Murdoch to fit into the mould of his new environment). Aside from Latin, the language of the Church, he was well-versed in both Irish and Scottish Gaelic, as well as English, making him respected as an important asset to the island kingdom, along with his little team of monks. 

Once he reached the altar, Father Finbar proceeded to chant two psalms and one more prayer of thanksgiving for Merida’s maternal protection, then moving on to celebrate Mass as usual facing away from the standing audience.

The solemn celebration soon turned into a joyous one. As soon as Mass had concluded, everyone took turns congratulating the fiery-haired princess on her new journey. Family reunions abounded, especially with Elinor and Fergus tearfully embracing their daughter after a long while of not seeing each other.

“Mum, Da, say hello to your new granddaughter Raghnaid.”

“Roonie?” Fergus struggled to pronounce that name as he was too elated to process everything. He then turned to his daughter. “Lass, ye have navigated the challenges of yer new journey, and I’m quite proud of ye for that. Ye are brave, and always will be.”

“Thank you, da,” Merida wept in pure joy as she wrapped her arms around her large father. Then she heard an unexpected squeal. 

“I think she wants to get to know you,” she remarked, holding out the baby for her grandfather to admire, which he did so. It took Fergus a while before slowly warming up to his new granddaughter, with Elinor on his side. Soon, the king and queen of DunBroch took turns introducing themselves to the new addition of their family, promising that they would always love her no matter what.

A celebration took place at the great hall of DunBroch castle, with Merida’s family and a handful of friends attending. Haggis, neeps and tatties, seafood dishes, fly cakes, among others featured prominently on the long table for everyone to enjoy, with flagons of light ale and whisky to wash down. Sounds of bagpipes, bodhráin, and fiddles set the festive mood, graced with traditional dances (which everyone participated with great gusto), jesters performing various kinds of tricks and jokes, and bards telling stories in song with harps to accompany them.

Meanwhile, Maudie caught sight of a tall familiar face among the small crowd. It dawned on her that the man was no other than Conan, the dark-haired burly warrior whom she once turned down his flirtations for duty’s sake.

“Hello, Maudie,” Conan winked as he inched a bit closer to her. “We meet again, I believe?”

“Conan! I thought ye had moved on to another lass of yer own?” she chided, half-chuckling, half-scolding.

“I have waited long enough to see you again. And here you are—at last.” He reached out for her hand and pulled it towards his lips, which turned her plump face into one or two shades of red. 

Maudie felt numb. She wanted to explain that she would get her masters’ permission to pursue romance with him, but she was unable to say anything. Her emotions were too complicated to be processed. 

Finally, she regained her composure. “I’ve felt the same, too. But let me ask Merida first, so hopefully we’ll see each other again soon.” She took one last lingering glance at Conan before rushing to the table to gather her share of the feast. 

Mor’du had never been closer to the very king who had wounded him as a bear. Of course, he may have a bit of resentment towards him, but he found himself drawn to Fergus’s jolly and easy-going disposition, as the king himself was drawn to his immense strength and occasionally irreverent sense of humour. Since their victory at the battle against the invading Vikings a few years ago, the two large men were occasionally seen chattering about daily occurrences and laughing at their jokes and amusing stories with whisky and roasted chicken. The churching celebration was no exception, with continuous exchange of stories and jokes (though they may bicker about sensitive matters like clan politics and their own personal resentment towards one another) the very reason for their unlikely familial relationship as more of a father-and-son duo rather than as rivals. 

The celebrations continued long into the night, which worried Mor’du, since he had a nursing wife and a newborn daughter to look after. Just as the rowdy parts were about to begin, he had a small opportunity to bid farewell to his father-in-law. Whilst everyone was almost completely immersed in the celebratory chaos, he quickly snuck Merida, Maudie, and wee Raghnaid out of the castle and into their humble home around half a mile away.

Once the couple were dressed in their simple shifts for the night, they took turns comforting their daughter, who was wailing from too much noise from the party. Once she was calm enough, wee Raghnaid took in her mother’s milk and was satisfied enough that at the first notes of her mother’s lilting lullaby, she was peacefully sent off into dream land. Her parents would soon follow her there, where they could enjoy the otherworldly delights it had to offer, with her in their arms. Though their time there usually ended when they woke up, their domestic bliss would remain as long as they lived.

After forty long days of celibacy characterised by maternal recovery, the couple were ceremonically cleared to lie together as man and wife. Now they could enjoy themselves in the intimacy of their bed, as long as they were careful not to conceive another child until their daughter was weaned.

Thanks to the profound love her parents (and her nursemaid Maudie) showered on her, she would gradually grow up into a curious young girl, then into a young woman with a potential to make a difference in the world in her own way. Maybe she would fall in love with—and marry—someone who would see her the way she was as a person, but who knows? Only time and fate will tell.

In the backdrop of a time where wars, plagues, and other terrible events were inevitable, there was nothing like the cosy calmness of home. For now, the wee bairn felt content, secure in the arms of her parents Merida and Mor’du, in the peaceful sanctuary of their humble home nestled in the beautiful Highland landscape.