One of many chapters. In fact, I already have the third chapter written. Yes, but not the second. It was going to be the second chapter but - look... it's a long story. Trust me.

And in regards to Young Macintosh's lyre abilities - I've taken my inspiration from the concept art for his father after reading The Art of Brave, in which he holds a lyre. It made me think, "Macintosh must pride themselves in the art of war AND music." So there ya go. Enjoy!

Merida turned over the letter in her hand and ran a thumb over the wax keeping it sealed. Unbroken. She bit the inside of her bottom lip and cracked the wax and unfolded the parchment. Even after dozens of these letters, going back and forth, she still couldn't stop her face from warming up. For a reason she still couldn't figure out though. Was it excitement? No, she never felt very excited - but definitely felt some sense of anticipation. What would the next letter say, and the next? A year of letters, and there was still something to say. She'd read the words and her hands would shake and grow cold. All the blood was clearly going to her cheeks. The words grew more poetic each time. The first time was a bit clumsy, and the second. But now, she could secretly confess the writer of these letters was much better after a year of practice. Learning what she liked to talk about, what prose spoke to her.

To my betrothed….

It wasn't written that way the first time. To Merida of Clan Dunbroch. Very official. Her mother was in the room when it happened, she could remember it.

It was in the early morning, a month after the tournament. Elinor had woken her and sat on the bed. There was anticipation on her face - expectation. Merida was irritated by it but said nothing as she took the letter and opened it in the chilled morning air. There was a brief silence, and she tried to ignore her mother's warm presence coming close as both women read together. She scoffed, and Elinor clasped her hands. "'A red, flaming rose?!'" Merida exclaimed and tossed the letter in her mother's lap. "Like someone set me on fire." She hid her head under her pillow and groaned.

"Oh, don't be so hard on him," Elinor held the letter up with a wide grin. "He tried, didn't he?" Merida peeked at her. "What you would you do if someone said you're flaming?" Her mother clicked her tongue and slapped the girl's leg. "He meant fiery. A fiery, red rose. Very romantic." Merida wished this was a nightmare. "Mum, stop reading it."

"Are you going to write back?"

Merida sat up. She looked at the letter and at her mother's face. Her heart had been pounding her chest, and she felt it move up to her throat. "It's only been a month!"

"A month of talking things over and trying to come to an agreement," Elinor frowned at her. "Have you not thought about any of this at all for the past thirty days?"

"I have. I'm not ready."

"Merida -"

"Mum, you promised!"

"Well when will you be ready?! In another month, a year? Ten years? I -" Elinor pursed her lips and took a deep breath. Merida hadn't realized how tightly she'd been gripping her sheets until her fingers trembled. It was a dream of theirs, she and her mother's, to be in a place where they'd no longer fought. In a world where they knew each other's every thought and didn't have to keep arguing. Keep misunderstanding. It was just a dream. Loved ones fought from time to time. They still argued, but the arguments were far and few these days. It was easier since they'd promised to listen more. They followed through, but these things still happened. And Merida could tell, that despite her mother saying she'd give her more time, it was a harder promise to keep than the first they'd made that fateful day. Whenever everything changed.

There were triggers, and they'd both been good at reading one another's body language. Elinor would purse her lips and get a crinkle near her left eyebrow. Merida realized she'd do the same thing, but cross her arms and roll her eyes. Ways to hold back the frustration, to take a moment to let it pass. Most of time, it did. Other times….

Elinor folded the letter on her lap after letting out a long breath. "Forgive me." Another promise. Merida felt her body relax. Her mother folded her hands. "You're right. It's only been a month. There's time. There's time." Merida wondered if she was more trying to convince herself of that but only smiled. "There is. It's going to be all right, Mum. I won't let you down."

"Oh... my bursty girl," The sentiment made Merida's heart swell, "You could never." Elinor ran a hand down her daughter's curly mane and smiled back. "I do want you to be happy. And I'm proud of you. I just sometimes -"

"Mum, I know. Don't worry," Merida placed her pillow on her lap. "Can I see it again?" She held her hand out toward the letter and her mother handed it over. She looked over it more carefully. She didn't know exactly what she was looking for, but if she were going to follow through in any way, she felt it was only fair to understand what each boy was trying to say. In this case - Macintosh. "I didn't know he was so, erm - flowery."

"The Macintosh clan is known for its bards and minstrels," Elinor brushed away a few folds from her dress. "His father plays the lyre, you know. He's masterful." Merida raised a brow at the image of a dozen Macintosh warriors sitting around, playing lutes and singing songs. A rose aflame on the mighty dais…. Merida sighed.

"I - what do you think? What about the others?" She looked over at her writing table where two other letters lay in waiting. Elinor scooted closer to her daughter and took her hand. "Let's consider, then," she began. "There's the letter from the Dingwall boy." Merida immediately felt her stomach churn. "He didn't even write it."

"I know, dear. But, well," Elinor struggled to find the words, "Perhaps - he's probably a bit shy. A father is allowed to help his son."

"I don't think he had anything to do with the letter at all, Mum."

"Now, now," Elinor clicked her tongue again, but Merida wouldn't budge. Her mother shook her head. "MacGuffin, then? He had a lot to say!"

"You think so, but look." Merida stood and brought the letter over to her mother. Elinor held the six pages in her hands and her grin faded as she skimmed over each one. "What - this is -"

"Barely readable?" Merida looked down at the tight, wobbly writing. "I don't think the scribes would be able to translate it, either." Her mother fluttered her eyes and shook her head. She folded the six-page letter and handed it back to her daughter. "Well, that's that." Merida snorted and grinned at her mother's politeness, as though MacGuffin were standing in the room with them. "I have to answer back, don't I?"

"It's the honorable thing to do."

"But - after everything? What do I say? You were there when it happened. They all agreed with me, but then they send me this!" Merida gestured at the letters in her lap and the one of the table. Elinor raised her brows. "Well, perhaps they thought about it and have decided they really do like you."

"Or maybe their fathers are behind it, too."

"That's a possibility, but you should still reply back, Merida. It would be rude not to."

"I know. I'll do it. I'll say something like - thank you for the lovely letter, I will consider it during this, erm… waiting period?"

Her mother smiled and nodded. "I would say that you have it under control, my dear. I just hope you don't write it all down in that manner."

"Mum," Merida whined before her mother kissed her temple. Her mother stood and gazed down at her. "I am very proud of you, Merida. You know what to do."

And so Merida did. She wrote each a letter, many times over. She'd made herself an impressive mountain of parchment and she'd wondered if her fingers would stay black forever by the time she was satisfied with her replies to each clan heir. Unfortunately for MacGuffin, she had to keep the letter a bit vague. She felt badly about it, but his writing was hardly legible. That wasn't her fault, and she even went to the castle scribes only to have her suspicions confirmed. She kept the letters on her table, though, for almost two weeks before she'd decided to send them off, watching a messenger and his horse carry them off in the morning mist.

She stood in her chambers, now, almost a year and a half later. The letter from the Macintosh heir in her hand. Her betrothed. Merida thought back to his second visit five months ago. Macguffin and Dingwall never wrote back, but Macintosh did. He and his men stayed for thirteen days. Still a bit arrogant, but he'd changed - calmer, more attentive. He'd looked at the other girls when they looked at him, but smiled only at her. They went riding together every morning - something Merida remembered being initially reluctant to do, but she promised her mother she'd try. Macintosh wanted to know her, and she'd let him little by little. Merida carved him a small wooden bear made from yew. He'd written another poem - she liked it - and played his lyre for her in the woods. When he'd boasted, she'd laughed, making him frown but crack a smile.

Merida's father took Macintosh hunting. Her brothers seemed to like him, but tested him relentlessly. It was obvious Macintosh was an only child, but he'd turned out to be rather saintly - as much as Young Macintosh could be. Everything had gone well.

The day he left, they'd said goodbye at the bridge. She hadn't let him kiss her. Not yet. Merida furrowed her brows at the memory, seeing his face when she backed away. He'd been disappointed, but kissed her hand and bowed. He'd changed, and she was drawn to how much he was trying to change. For her. She wrote a letter three days later, accepting his proposal. They were betrothed.

They wrote constantly, building everything up. Merida was sure she loved him, or at least felt sure enough that she would be happy with him. He promised that she could ride and shoot her bow every day - he wouldn't stop her from living. She'd be his "glorious and wild queen, fiery like the purest sunrise." He took pride in her free spirit, her passion. Yes - she'd be happy. She laid the letter down on her table and brushed her hands over the letters.

Her heart skipped when she heard the commotion more loudly from down the hall. Everyone was getting ready for the princess' trip to the Macintosh clan. She and her betrothed would see each other in less than three days, have a grand celebration, and then ride back to the Dunbroch castle for the wedding. After a year of courtship, they were more than ready. Merida had asked her mother if the anxiety was normal, if she should think longer about it, but apparently every woman went through the same feelings. It was marriage, it wasn't the end of the world, but it was like any big life change. You were entering into a life you will share with another person forever. A wife and her husband. Merida couldn't say the words aloud yet, even though in less than two weeks she was going to be someone's wife herself. She took a deep breath and left the room with a long exhale.

The commotion wasn't exaggerated. Everyone was still making last minute changes, making sure everything was in order, and would stay that way during the whole trip. Merida's things were already packed and downstairs with the men, their horses, and her own - Angus. She walked down the hall and to her parents' chambers. The door was opened and she walked inside to see her father and mother talking. Elinor greeted her. "There you are. Did you make sure you haven't forgotten anything?"

"Yes." Merida smiled as her mother turned toward the large bed. Her father sighed and nodded. "Aye, everything will be good. Right? Right…." He nodded again, and she smirked. "Dad, calm down. Take a breath."

"Right." He took a breath and still fussed over his kilt. Merida rolled her eyes. He'd been nervous for a whole week. Her mother returned and carefully laid a heavy, fur cloak over her shoulders. Merida gasped and looked at the cloak. "Mum!"

"An early engagement present." Elinor clasped her hands and grinned. "Well?"

"It's - I love it." Merida pulled the cloak around herself more tightly and giggled. "It's perfect." She gave Elinor a warm hug. Her mother sighed into her curly hair. "Oh… I know it's only for a little while, but I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too. And thank you." Merida pulled away and her mother kissed her cheek. Fergus placed a hand on each woman's back. "Don't worry so much. Your mother will run this place better than I ever have!"

"I do even when you're not gone, Fergus." Elinor fussed at his kilt. He complained and argued with her as Merida walked over to the mirror and looked at her cloak. The leather was turned outward, and it was covered with designs burned into the hide. The fur was already making her sweat a little - she wouldn't have to worry about freezing to death with it being the end of summer. The patterns formed a masterpiece, and she almost felt guilty wearing it, as though it should be hanging on the wall than around her. But it was meant to be worn. Her mother wanted her to. Merida smiled at her reflection.

The three of them soon went downstairs and to the bridge where the travel party waited. Merida hugged her mother one more time. Her brothers came out from behind Elinor and one of them held out a wooden box. "What's this?"

"It's a -" One of them began before another clamped his mouth shut with a hand. "Open it!"

Merida shook her head and opened the box. It was lined with green cloth, and inside was a dagger. She gasped and held it up and admired the shiny blade. Its handle was black and gold, and on the blade was a bear. "Boys," she murmured then caught eye of one brother holding up a belt connected to a satchel. "Put it on, let's see it!" She grinned wide and chuckled as she took the belt. She made it snug around her waist, along with her new dagger. With her bow, she was ready for anything now. "Now I need a hug." All three boys came over as she squatted down to greet them. They nearly suffocated her, but she loved it. She'd miss them terribly.

They all said their final goodbyes after she mounted Angus and left the bridge with her party. Merida could see her mother blot away tears, and she couldn't help but wipe away a few of her own. Fergus rode beside her and reached out to brush at her cheek with his thumb. She looked at him and grinned. "You feeling better, Dad?"

"Oh, all that. It was just a wee bit of nerves." Fergus rolled his shoulders. "It's not like I'm going on a trip across the land with my daughter for the first time, escorting her to her future husband or anything."

Merida laughed nervously. "When you say it like that…."

"Aye, that's what it is, isn't it? But let's leave it to then." He smiled at his daughter. "We got three days of adventure ahead of us. South and then West across the land. Let's have some fun." Merida looked at him in silence for a moment. She didn't think of the trip in that way, but he was right: what better way to make the best out of it? She had one adventure with her mother - now it was time for her to have one with her father. A better one. No witches, no wisps, no one turning into bears or being attacked by one centuries old. No magic. She was with her father, and some of the best of his men. They were safe, and the world was waiting for them.

She looked up and around her at the forest, at the sky, and the mountains. The mist tickled her cheeks and she heard the wind rustle through her hair. Her heart pounded in anticipation. This was her time, like it always was.

"Let's do it."