When he left the room her legs gave out as she sat down on the chair she had been clutching for support. The king had tried nothing. In fact, he had been about the perfect gentleman, although he didn't know how to take no for an answer, maybe that just came with being king. Merida let out a shaky breath, she had wanted a night off, not another night to act strong. Merida pushed a few strands of hair back behind her ear. He had asked her to stay but she should use this chance to escape.

Her feet didn't move. She didn't stand, just sat there waiting. She was surprised the King had not decided to take off her head yet. Quite a bit of what she had said to him had been impertinent, still for him to have gained an interest in her, she didn't see it. Why would he want to be with a woman who couldn't even read? Then again maybe he liked dumb women, not that she thought herself dumb but she knew she had not had the same privileges as others.

He returned and she stood with as much grace as she could manage, her eyes looking curiously at the satchel. What could he be... for her children. She took the bag without protest, feeling the weight of it. Her mind immediately began to race. She could get her brother reading lessons, have him teach their little sister. She could buy them Sunday clothes and have plenty of money left for a few fruit-bearing trees. "Thank you," she managed to force out as her mind raced. There were so many things she could do. All of her thoughts came to a screeching halt though as he asked about their father. The sadness on her face could not be hidden.

Merida looped the string of the bag on her wrist and let it fall to her side as she looked up at him. "He is dead." Though her eyes showed sadness her voice didn't, her voice held the strong resolve of someone who did what had to be done. That was always how she got through the pain. She did what had to be done. There was no time to mourn because there were still people who counted on her.

"Thank you," Merida bowed and the sadness faded as a hardness appeared in her eyes, the hardness of a shell meant to protect something vulnerable. "But I believe it is about time I take my leave, correct?"