Merida came down for breakfast, and squeezed in between her pile of brothers. She hoped her mother won't pay her any notice.
That hope lasted about ten seconds.
"Merida, where is your crown and what is that hat?"
"Ma, it's nothing, I just, I don't want you to freak." Over her protests, her mother tsked, and tugged the hat free.
There was a collective gasp, a chorus of 'oohs' and then, a shriek. "Your hair."
Red curls had become blond waves. "It's what all the ice queens are wearing," she muttered.
"Wash it out. Now. Before I cut it off."