The Scotland forest near Princess Merida's castle was as thick and wild as her own mane of red hair. It was one of the many attributes from which she come to admire the forest so greatly. The forest and her spirit seemed to parallel each other in many respects. Both of them were untamed and free.

Sometimes, when she found herself craving a flight of fancy, she wished that she could experience a tremendous growth spurt so that she could reach towards the skies like the trees which surrounded her. These fantasies leaned more towards an uncharacteristically surrealist outlook, and so were frequently snubbed out by her realist mentality.

Merida found her mind wandering off to such silly thoughts time and time again, despite her better judgment. Deep down inside, she was the type of girl who believed that anything was possible.

Wandering for many hours through the forest with her horse Angus by her side wasn't her typical way, but on this particular evening her craving wasn't for the adrenaline hike of riding. Feeling the earth crunch beneath her shoes as she walked aimlessly as she felt herself becoming smaller and smaller next to the grandeur of nature was what currently tickled her fancy.

Angus seemed to be in a mild temper due to her whimsical mood. He didn't say a word, and he wasn't the type to put up much of a protest. Angus was the perfect traveling partner for a girl with a spark of adventure in her eyes.

At times such as these, it was not at all uncommon for fate to interject in the workings of the natural world. As if to bait her away from her pleasant listlessness, a spirit appeared before Merida's path. After a moment of observing the being, Merida realized that it was the same as the wisps that led her to a change of destiny. The same sort of blue wisp that led her down a path which turned her mother into a bear and changed how the world viewed her as a Princess.

As of that moment she couldn't think of anything that she wanted to truly have changed. Things had never been better back at home and with her family, and she had taken a great fondness to her recently gained freedom. To follow the wisp came the possibility of an incredible change.

Despite her internal naysaying, another wisp appeared in front of the first. That wisp was then followed by several more, creating a blue illuminated path through the surrounding forest. The light had an eerie tinge to it, but Merida knew that was simply the wisps way.

Once again, they had managed to pose an interesting question to her. Why are they here this time?

"Well…" She looked behind her. The castle was not going to be bustling with activity at this time of the evening. Unless, of course, her brothers had managed to stir the pot with their own brand of mischief. Rationalizing in her own mind, Merida had come to the conclusion that it would in fact be 'safer' to follow the wisps than deal with her siblings. She had nearly managed to lose a tooth by their shiningans on more than one occasion.

Looking back down at the trail of shimmering spirits, she began to step towards them casually. "Come on, Angus. Yeh don't pass up an invitation like this, now do you?"

Angus shook his large head with a loud neigh. Merida went silent for a moment. She wasn't about to miss out just because her horse had gotten spooked, but it did put her at a disadvantage. If there were to be danger in the proceedings, she would be trapped without a speedy means of escape. Allowing for the brother's comparison to set back into her mind, she again figured there was a greater chance of sudden death around the wee devils than following forest spirits whom had demonstrated reliability on more than one occasion. "Alright, I will follow them on my own then."

Following the wisps as they each disappeared one by one, Merida was at the very least pleased that she had found a goal for the evening. An adventure! The forest as of late had become a tad predictable for her tastes rather than the radical escape from royal life it served as in the past. She still loved the forest with an open heart, but something had been missing. A wisp chase was exactly the sort of pick-me-up she currently needed.

Not once upon her journey did she reach out to touch one of the creatures. They were guides, and though they were beautiful to behold, she found that reaching out to them would not be paying them with proper respect. To merely follow with her hands to herself was showing as much respect as she could possibly muster.

After an hour, Merida began to wonder if the wisp journey would be worth it after all. The wisps were leading her deeper and deeper into the forest, far away from the edge of the forest. Merida had come to two conclusions as her pace quickened. One, the wisps were sending her out for business within the forest and nothing else. Or two, that this was some sort of grand scale goose chase conducted by the wisps themselves. Deciding that the latter would be ridiculous for a force that had caused so much positive change for her in the past, her feet continued pace. The sooner she got to the end of the trail, the sooner the mystery would be revealed.

Losing track of time entirely, she had finally come across the last three wisps in the trail. The last three, who moved back and forth as if in excitement, lead to a door that seemed to stand upright all on its own. It was the sort of door that she would imagine to find inside of a house, with a simple rectangular design and a bland brass knob. It seemed to lead to nowhere in particular, which only managed to pique her curiosity even further.

Could this be the work of another witch? She hadn't had the best of luck dealing with witches before, even if the consequences of her actions had changed her fate for the better.

Has anyone ever seen anything like this before? She could safely say that she had never seen a door stand upright in the middle of the forest like this, especially when there was nothing else connected to it. It just seemed to be rooted in the soil, as though it had grown with the trees and the grass surrounding it. The door itself must have been constructed with some sort of magic, she had concluded.

A doorway to another world? That was a possibility that Merida simply could not pass up. Grabbing the brass knob, and an ordinary knob it was in feel too, she opened the door. Poking her head through the door, her eyes and mind could barely process what was inside.

The room was large and comfortable, with a window through which a blinding amount of sunlight came streaming through. Sunlight? Merida looked back outside, and the moon was well into his shift in the sky. Her excitement grew as her hypothesis about a doorway to another world became more plausible. This was turning out to be a real adventure, after all.

Taking a step forward, her eyes adjusting to the sunlight, she noted that the walls were covered with drawings. Rough pencil sketches of people covered every single wall. Occasionally there would be an empty patch where one could see the dirty white walls underneath, but this was hardly even noticeable to Merida. She was entranced by the many pictures and the many different styles they all conveyed.

Taking another few steps forward, she could hear her footsteps on the tile below. At the very least, sound seemed to process the same way that it did in her own world. In fact, despite having never been in this place before, there was a vague air of familiarity. She could have sworn that, maybe, she had seen a place like this in her dreams.

Stopping in her track as she looked at the drawings to her left, a stunning revelation washed over her. They were all drawings of her family. Every single piece of paper had a single sketch of one of her family members, with the exceptions when they were all together on one piece. She gulped, finding her fight or flight complex kicking in. Whoever lived here had clearly been spying on her for quite some time. She didn't take kindly to the idea of being stalked, especially by someone or something that she knew nothing about.

She had to get to the bottom of this. For her own sanity.

Upon closer examination, and with a keener eye, she noticed that everyone of the drawings were different from the other. She nodded to herself as if engaging in an internal conversation. This was why she didn't recognize them all as being her family at first. She noted a drawing of her father Fergus, who was much weaker in the limb and smaller in the stomach than the Fergus she knew.

What sort of witch or hermit would live out here and take such an interest in my family?

Looking away from the sketches, Merida saw something she swore had not been there before. In the center of the room, amidst all of the madness, sat a woman sketching away on a bland wooden desk.

Pinned to the sides of this woman's desk were sketches of Merida specifically. One of these conceptual Meridas gazed back with a fiery temper, while another looked like a perfectly groomed princess with tamed red locks that ran straight upon her back.

Blinking several times in succession, mystified by the discovery, Merida continued to creep forward. Standing silently behind the woman, she watched as her pencil glided across her paper. From that moment on, and Merida couldn't properly pin down the reason in her own mind, any feeling of panic faded away. She knew this woman would do no harm to her. She knew this woman, even if she didn't know from where or when.

Seeing as her drawing was still not complete, Merida gazed on the wall in front of the artist's desk. For a moment, much like everything else that she had seen, she couldn't properly process what her eyes perceived. It was such a reality shattering sight that to get her mind around it would make her feel even smaller than the trees in the forest had managed. As she looked at the sequence of drawings before her, Merida's existence suddenly felt insignificant.

Before her laid the last few hours of her life told through sketches. From one crudely sketched drawing to the next, it chartered the story of her wisp hunt and how it ultimately led her to the door in the woods. The last sketch was of her walking through the room towards the woman at the desk. There was an empty space next to this drawing. There was just one last piece left in the puzzle.

Looking back at the desk, she saw that the piece was nearly complete. Studying the drawing intently as the artist's pencil continued to dance across it, Merida felt her heart melt. The sketch was of the woman embracing Merida with both arms.

Like a mother, Merida thought to herself.

As a final stamp upon her finished project, the artist took a red pen from her pocket. It was like the final move in a dance, as the woman wrote in small cursive letters in the picture's bottom right corner.

The artist's name was Brenda Chapman, and as she took her latest creation to the board, Merida felt resolution. Even beyond her own mother, this was the woman who had created her. The woman who had seen through her design and maturity from the very beginning. All logic went out of Merida's mind as understanding came flooding in.

She was having the great honor of meeting her creator.

The final drawing tacked into place as Brenda smiled. It had completed a long journey.

"It's the last one," she finally spoke. "It is just a bit strange boarding for something that will never get animated. But…" Turning to face Merida, her grin grew even wider. "…here you are. Just as planned."

Motioning to the different Merida's which were either tacked or scattered around her desk, the woman seemed to glow with accomplishment. "We went through a lot of different versions before finally coming to the you that you are now. It is very different when you are working with others to realize a concept then… well, when I started you were just a figment in my head. Just a little wisp."

Locking eyes with the woman, Merida suddenly came to know her whole history. Though it was impossible for her to grasp all of the information coming to her at once, from what she was able to understand she was a work of fiction. A novelty created by this woman. That novelty soon became a project, and that project brought on more people. Different artists with differing ideas. Different Meridas coming from those different perspectives. Through the process, the Merida that she had known herself as had come into existence.

"You know," Brenda hardly seemed to blink. "You weren't the only one who had to work on compromising."

Turning her back to Merida, the two sat in silence for what seemed to be a lifetime. The woman gazed over the summation of her work. After a long while, Merida stepped to the side of her, watching the woman's face. Brenda's eyes had finally laid to rest on the last drawing, the one in which Merida and her crossed paths. "Sometimes an idea just doesn't end up working the way you thought it would. Sometimes things get moved and changed to the point where you can barely recognize your basic contributions anymore."

Breaking contact with the wall, she returned to her desk with one fluid movement. Merida knew that she had planned this encounter for a long time. What she would say and how she would say goodbye had been planned well in advance.

Like her drawings, Merida thought.

As she hunched down under the desk, she pulled out a bright blue box with a lid that seemed to clench around the sides. "I regret not having been there through the whole process, Merida." Taking the lid off, she dumped the contents of the box down onto the floor. Thousands of separate drawings spilled out, all of the same shape and size as those found on the walls. They were a jumble of different moments, not always connecting to one another. "In truth, I wanted to be the one controlling your fate. The one to call all of the shots. But in the end… well… all of what you see on the floor went unsaid. So much business left unfinished. I would be lying if I said I didn't have some regrets."

Tears glistened down the artist's cheek, even as her smile remained intact. Looking back to Merida, she took in every last detail that she could. "Just the other day, I went to Disneyland. I-I had to hold back tears when I saw that there was a little girl running around… that looked just like you. The hair, the outfit, even a little plastic bow. As the day continued, I saw another girl dressed in the same costume. And another one. And another one. I swear that I ran into half-a-dozen girls dressed just like you." She wiped away the tears. "On that day, everything came full circle for me. They were in love with you the same way that I was. I didn't own you anymore. You belonged to them. You had become a part of their lives."

Merida found that her own cheeks had become damp, though she was much too proud to properly admit it. As she continued to fight the onslaught of emotions, she found that she could no longer take it. Merida sobbed quietly. "Merida, I am so proud of the you that you are now. I am so glad that you have impact. That you have managed to actually move people other than myself."

Seeing the raging spark of the artist in the woman's eyes, Merida felt their spirits connect. There was more potential for this woman merely outside of her own creation. "I've been thinking about new projects, now that this whole Pixar slash Brave business is over and done with. A book? That sounds like it could be distinctally me. Another film proposal? My ideas seem to get changed a lot by other hands but… well, I guess that just another part of the artistic process."

Grabbing Merida with both of her arms, Brenda embraced her. Merida had been unsuccessful at drying her tears, continuing to sniffle into the woman's chest. "Sometimes things change for the better." Stroking Merida's long red tangled hair, the woman sighed. "Sometimes you have to let go."

Loosening her hold of Merida, the woman stepped back. Other than her own mother, Merida had never seen a female with so much drive. The feeling of warmth that spread from Brenda was, in fact, the same warmth that she had felt from her mother.

"It was a fun and rocky ride, Merida. But in the end, you became a real character. Someone who will stick around for quite sometime. Not a whole lot of artists can boast about that."

Brenda went silent again as she gazed upon her finished product. Eyes wide with wonder, Merida gazed right back. For the first time, the urge to speak overtook the girl.

"Thank you."

In the blink of an eye and the passing of a second, the woman and her room were gone. The forest trail became the only thing in Merida's view, twirling around the trees. At her side was her faithful horse Angus, and to her current knowledge the horse had been traveling with her the entire time.

Running her hand through her hair and gazing ahead at the road, she felt drowsy. Maybe she had managed to drift off while in the middle of the forest. Though this seemed unlikely, Merida couldn't account any other reasoning behind her current disoriented state. "Let's head on home, Angus. I'm feeling a bit… dizzy." She knew well and good that something had happened to her, but she couldn't well remember what. Any recollection of the experience was lost. "Hopefully them wee devils aren't cookin' up somethin' unsavory."

From that day on, Merida never died. She lived on in the hearts and minds of those young people brave enough to embrace her.

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Some of the influence for this story came from another fan-fic called 'Merida Comes' by bStormhands. Her story hit upon a lot of interesting points, and I wanted to do something similar with my own Brave story. Something just a bit meta… okay, maybe a lot meta.

Brenda Chapman is a fabulous artist, and while I did really enjoy Brave, I had always been a bit saddened about Mark Andrews taking on the main directing duties for the film. A lot of this story might have stemmed from that. Wondering what Brave might have been like if Brenda Chapman had complete control. Wondering what Brenda (outside of interviews) might actually think of the final product.

The film was a lot of fun and the character was great. Hopefully this story, despite some of the meta-ish-ness, touches upon some of those same qualities.

Leave some honest reviews, if you would be so kind. If you see any grammar mistakes or errors, let me know. I would hate for those sorts of errors to get in the way of the story I was trying to tell.