Chapter 1: Monikers

It felt strange, walking into the sports hall after so long a time away. It felt like she'd last been there centuries ago. It felt like it was just yesterday. A prickling sensation ran along her spine, down her arms. She'd missed this. She really had.

She took a deep breath as she sought a corner in which to drop her case, unpack her gear. She avoided the busier clumps where contestants seemed to be tripping over each other, eager to chat, catch up and indulge in competitive boasting. It wasn't anything she could relate to. She had left before that could become a big thing.

She had never needed to boast, back in the day.

Instead of worrying about the other contestants, she indulged in a bout of reminiscence. Kneeling in the biggest empty spot she could find, she unclasped her case, remembering how back in the day her gear would have been provided by the hall. Back then it had been a tiny thing, sat on a rack, alongside several others as children lined up, instructors watching them with eagle eyes but happy smiles. She remembered how it still had a good weight to it. Compared to the large item she now assembled, the one from her memories seemed to weigh a ton. She grinned, admiring the carbon fibre construction of her own design, its sleek curvature, the layered lines and decorative flakes. It sat in her hand like it was an extension of her own arm. It felt good. It felt right. Even its colours matched those of her tunic.

She spent the last week practicing religiously at home. She had gotten up early, to sneak in some forbidden practice, even though she had been expressly told not to overwork herself on competition day. She didn't care. She was just eager to get down to it.

Her fingers thrummed with anticipation as she checked each one of the accompanying items, for balance, straightness, for the mere satisfaction of holding them up for inspection. Once satisfied, she clasped the quiver onto her belt, gave a swish of her bow as she stood, and brushed back her hair as she turned to observe the room once more, a small smirk forming on her face.

She couldn't wait to get started.

Merida balanced the arrow on her upper lip, pulling two strands of her hair around her chin to try and make her friend laugh. It worked. The brunette's eyes went wide, and a melodious sound soon poured forth, as she closed her green eyes and held her sides.

"Merida! You look so daft!"

The girl's German accent was hardly noticeable now. It was good to see her more at ease. Rapunzel would go through cycles of dreadful nerves alternating with manic excitement, it was exhausting to watch, so Merida had made it her mission since their first competition together to distract her.

"Try an' draw this, miss Arty Farty!"

It had become so much easier, Merida reflected as the girl burst into a fresh bout of giggles, once her foster mother was booted out of the picture. It had been at about the same time she had got her hair cut...

"Ah still cannae believe ye cut aff all that hair." Merida said, finally sitting back up straight, the arrow finding its place in her lap as she looked at her friend. Rapunzel's hand automatically reached for the back of her head, fingertips stroking the jagged ends she maintained in a pixie style. "Nor that that auld hag had ye dye it blond every month. Weirdo."

"Yes, well," Rapunzel's cheeks gained a dusting of pink as she turned to look at the man fighting with his various belts behind her. There was a soft smile on her face that gave Merida goose bumps. "It wasn't my choice, really... But it was worth it."

There was a beat as Merida reminded herself of her place, and then the moment passed, and normalcy resumed.
"Whit, ye wanted the nickname Sun Flower?" The Scots woman's voice was teasing.

"Was? Nein! I mean no!" Rapunzel was adorable when she got flustered. Everything turning pink and round and flapping. "You... Silly. I meant the haircut. The long hair was a nightmare to keep brushed, let alone get dry!"

Merida chortled. She remembered full well. Rapunzel's foster mother had been constantly brushing the girl's hair, scolding her when it inevitably collected stray leaves in autumn as it brushed along the floor, yet refusing to take obvious measures like braiding or putting it up in a bun. The woman had been terrifying.

"Ye're telling me. Mah hair eats combs fur breakfast." Turning her head to gaze around the hall, Merida eyed the crowds with a critical eye. She rolled her shoulder to ease some of the tension building up. "Looks like we're nearly full. Will be guid tae get started."

"Yeah..." Rapunzel muttered, distracted. Clearly her partner's struggle with his gear was bothering her. "Oh Eugene, kommt hier. Lass mich..."

Merida tuned out their cutesy couple talk, glad that they had naturally switched back to German. It was fun to watch 'Eugene' protest as Rapunzel sorted him out, but there were days where, as much as she was delighted to see the two so happy together, it would sting, and remind her of what she didn't have.

Oh well, she could still beat the two to a pulp in the competition. She smirked, trying to pin point in the crowd the archers she liked to keep an eye on, the contenders for her crown as queen of the archery grounds.

There was Mulan, the Chinese archer with her eccentric manager Mushu. Next to them sat Shang, the archer who had long dominated the sport, earning him the moniker of General. The story was that Mulan had dressed as a boy, so she could compete against him and win, under the pseudonym of Ping. Even now that she openly competed as a woman, the pseudonym stuck, and many eyed her warily, like they thought it somehow freakish that a woman could best a male archer of such high calibre. Merida always bristled at such notions. She liked Mulan, even if they didn't share a tongue, they shared something much bigger in these contests of skill: an understanding. She sent a finger salute their way, earning a smart nod and smile from her rival, before turning to gaze at the other competitors.

There was Belle. The French archer was more renowned for her beauty than for her skill with a bow, but Merida knew from experience how resourceful she was. It was always strange to see her next to the bulky form of her counterpart Adam. The man hadn't earned the nickname Beast for nothing, his archery style notoriously wild and brutal. Yet there he was, geeking out with Belle over the novel in her hand. Right dorks.

Merida spotted Maui and Moana in the back corner, arguing, as often, over something or other. It was rare to see those two competing in this part of the world. The jetlag must be lethal. Next to them Merida could see Philip's manager Aurora napping, it was a wonder that she ever made a name for herself in the sport. She rolled her eyes.

As she scanned face after face, recalling the monikers and various nicknames of her counterparts, Merida ruminated a bit on the nickname she had acquired in the sport: The Bear. It was dumb, really. When she was little, she'd spent a large chunk of her time competing wearing various bear adorned t-shirts. That was it. She was pretty much the number one female archer, and when people spoke of her, they thought of cuddly bears. Her chin dipped as she pouted. It sucked as a nickname, but she couldn't see herself doing as Eugene had and proclaiming loud and clear his own chosen nickname.

Oh, hey, looks like Anya's back in the game. Merida smiled as she spotted the short-haired redhead waving at her. She looked good. Merida hadn't seen her competing in years. And there was Jasmine, the middle eastern tigress, who walked the halls like she owned them. Merida smirked. It was always satisfying to put Jasmine back in her place. The Greek Megara stood with her arms crossed next to her country's self-proclaimed Hercules. It would be good to hear her snarking. Not far off was Alice, also known in the UK as miss Wonderland, for the number of impossible turn arounds she'd had. The girl had better luck than Wee Dingwall back home. The blond was chatting with young Eilonwy, from Wales. The strawberry-blond teenager had just graduated from the children's categories, and Merida was expecting big things from her.

"Huh..." Merida stood up, the better to see the person she'd just spotted. "Flynn, wha's that?"

"Hum?" The German archer, reacting to his chosen nickname, untangled himself from Rapunzel's grasp and turned his gaze towards the person Merida was pointing at. "Oh, now that is very interesting."

"Ooh, a new face!" Rapunzel was pretty much bouncing on the spot, an excited smile spreading on her face as she spotted the newcomer that Merida had just noticed. "I love meeting new faces!"

"Calm down, Blondie..." Eugene said, patting his girlfriend on the shoulder. He grinned, but his eyes didn't leave the girl at the other end of the hall. "I don't know their name, but if the rumours I hear are true, you might have a hard time befriending them."

Merida, puzzled by Eugene's intrigued attitude, had to ask. "Why is that? What have ye heard?"

"If it is who I think it is, she's a rising star in the Archery scene in Norway. Bjorgman was literally in tears speaking about how stunning her form was."

"Now, now, we all ken that Reindeer King gets emotional about all things archery related." Merida huffed. "This person got a nickname?"

"Wait, Eugene, is that...?"

Nodding, Eugene took Rapunzel's hand in his and turned his gaze to Merida. There was an indescribable something in his eye, a hint of challenge, mirth, anticipation perhaps? Merida wasn't sure that she liked it.

"They call her the Ice Queen."

"Wow..."

Elsa was mesmerized, watching her opponents go one after the other. She was glad she went first, the contestants ranked by the first letter of their surname. She sat with her back straight on the bench, hands in her lap as one after the other the girls in her category reminded her that this was it, she was competing with the world's very best archers. She wasn't very good at catching people's names, but thankfully Phil, the commentator, was great at including memorable nicknames.

Currently competing was a girl from Germany who looked familiar, but Elsa couldn't say why. She twirled into position, looking like a dancer, toes visibly twitching in her thin canvas shoes. She looked shyly at her feet as the announcer declared her to be the Golden Sun Flower, but raised her eyes with a spark as she was given the all clear to start. She radiated with joy as she pulled the string, her tongue sticking out ever so slightly as she took aim. It was clear that Golden Flower here enjoyed the moment so much, all else seemed to fade. The arrow flew, straight, dangerously close to the bull's eye. She had missed it by a mere centimetre, but still she glowed, smiling as she reached for her next arrow. She didn't care if she missed. She only cared that she was there.

Elsa smiled.

Before Golden Flower, there had been Ping, a serious looking Asian woman with a charming smirk that could only be described as handsome. Her style had been distinctive, taking full advantage of the height of the hall's ceilings to fire high, plunging shots. Her string pinged, like the noise of a crystal, sharp and beautiful. She had bowed respectfully at the end of her turn, inviting Golden Flower into her spot with a warm smile that contrasted with her aggressive stance in front of the target.

Elsa had felt a shiver run up her spine at that performance. This competition was going to be a lot tougher than the ones back home had been.

As she continued watching the proceedings however, there was one competitor that wouldn't leave her thoughts. She had come on not long after Elsa stood down, her heart still hammering so loudly that she could barely hear the words inside her own head, let alone from the speakers. She had not caught the redhead's name or alias, but had noticed how the young woman seemed to be one of a very few to have a personalised bow. Unusually, it appeared to be made of wood, rounded, weighty, ungainly. It suited her, strangely, as she stomped onto the spot, long curls flung back as she squared her shoulders, scoured her eyes around the room. There was something wild about the girl, raw and powerful. She had grinned as she readied her arrow, and then her expression had turned serious, with the slightest hint of iron-clad confidence. She made each shot look effortless, but Elsa could tell that it wasn't. The tautness of the string, bending the bow into a strong V-shape, the bulge of the muscles on her back, even the soft expiration of air as she'd smoothly let go, all pointed to a level of skill and experience that had Elsa's heart racing.

All three of the redhead's arrows had shared the dead centre of the target. Elsa had to remind herself to breathe.

Still, the blonde felt confident as she brushed back her braid and stood up at the end of the session. All three of her shots had been dead centre too, and they were only at the play-offs.

Merida's hands shook as she reached for her apple. That had been rough. Darn it. Her head just wasn't in the game.

Elsa Arendelle, that was the Ice Queen's name. Merida had memorised it as Hercules's ex-trainer began proceedings. It was more out of curiosity at seeing a new face. Having taken part in the sport since she was six, she found new names to be fresh and exciting, if often disappointing. She didn't have high hopes for the blonde woman. She looked older, a bit stiff, she stood out like a sore thumb. Her bow, a distinctive, clearly expensively commissioned piece of artistry, spoke more of money than skill. Bemused, Merida had cupped her chin with her hand to see how the rich woman with the poise of a grand dame would cope with the pressure of international competition.

Now there was no way she was ever getting that name out of her skull.

The demure little wall flower had seemed to make a point of avoiding folk up until her name was shouted, giving the few brave souls who dared to approach her the cold shoulder. Not that Merida blamed her. Most of them were clearly making advances based on nothing but her looks, and any competitor worth her salt would know that right before taking the shots was not the time for such distractions. Yet when it was her turn to shoot...

Elsa Arendelle certainly knew how to put on a show.

The icy blonde woman's stride loosened up immediately as she made for the shooter's spot. Her hips swayed hypnotically as she swished her bow around, air whistling through the gaps in her 3D printed instrument. All eyes were on her and the swooshing skirt of her tunic as she clicked her heels, turning into position and offering Merida a great view of her... back?

Oh, Merida had thought. She's left-handed.

Well, that wasn't all that rare in the sport, unusual, but neither handicap nor advantage. Still, Merida gulped as she was pertinently reminded of her wishful thinking earlier about... about...

Hot darn, look at her bending that bow like it was made of rubber. Is she really competing at an international level with something using so little draw pow-...

The arrow flew so fast Merida would have thought she'd imagined it had it not landed smack on the middle of the bull's eye. Adrenaline rushed through her as she realised that she needed to pay attention. She sat up straighter, leaning forward to better observe the pull of the Ice Queen's back muscles as she reached for the next arrow, notched it, and pulled it back. The close fit and sheer material at the top of her tunic made it an easy enough task, even with her braid swaying behind her out of harm's way. There was nothing amateurish in the pull of sinew and tendon Merida could observe, or in the way the woman pulled the arrow to her chin. Ice blue eyes fixed the target, and the small smirk turned into a beaming smile as the arrow was let loose again.

Another bull's eye...

Alright, maybe the Reindeer King had a point. Elsa Arendelle's archery seemed to be flawless. Stunned, Merida watched, mouth slightly agape as the last arrow flew. Where had this woman been hiding? Even if she'd not been on the international circuit, skill like that in any country would be the talk of the sport. This was not the stance of someone who'd not long started competitive archery. This was...

"Amazing..."

The whisper from behind her had Merida nodding along without thinking. She was left breathless, without words, unable to even think.

Darn it, not good... She'd be up before long.

Thankfully, the long years of experience paid off in allowing her to operate mostly on auto-pilot as her name was called. She stomped a bit more harshly than she would've liked on her way to the spot, found herself glancing around the room as she tried to settle her nerves, her fingers fumbling with the shaft of her first arrow. Something clicked as her eyes found the Ice Queen's staring right at her, face neutral, eyebrows raised, expectant. Merida noticed that the knuckles in her lap looked a little white. Nerves huh?

Merida grinned. Well, if she was going to make the Ice Queen nervous, she'd better show her what the Archer known as Bear was really like.

Three bull's eyes later, and Merida was left to watch the rest of proceedings feeling somewhat strange. The Ice Queen wasn't the first new competitor on the scene to make Merida feel threatened but... This wasn't like when Ping finally started competing, her energy and drive the first to egg Merida into something resembling an arch rivalry. It wasn't even like when Alice had stumbled into the scene, on a run of luck so golden many had wondered if there had been performance enhancing drugs involved. Heavens, the closest she could come to describe it was when Merida had been six, finally allowed by her parents to take part in competitions away from home, and her first opponent had been golden haired Rapunzel, with the scary dark-haired woman hovering over her shoulders like a ghost. Rapunzel had two years more experience at the time, being older, and watching her had made Merida feel small and insignificant... until the German child had snuck away from her foster-mother to get some space, hiding in amongst Merida's mother's skirts. The two had been fast friends ever since.

Somehow, Merida didn't think the Ice Queen was going to come over to her and ask to be her friend.

What the Ice Queen did do, however, as the women's play-offs finished, and people began to disperse, was walk up past Merida, pause, and gently bow her head to her. She left with strong strides, an enigmatic smile on her face. Merida felt her cheeks burn as though the woman had just insulted her or... flattered her? But Merida wasn't one for flattery.

It was times like these that she wished she had her father's gift for swearing.

Food. Drink. Something... The apple from earlier had barely made a dent in the appetite she had built up watching the others compete. She wandered over to the section cordoned off for the men's play-offs, where they still had a couple of contestants left to go. Idly Merida looked through the crowd, searching for Rapunzel and Flynn but secretly hoping to spot Kristoff Bjorgman. The Norwegian and her had hung out during previous international events, and she wouldn't mind catching up with him... Especially after the dazzling performance put on by his compatriot. She'd need to pick his brains on that. Sadly, there was no sign of a blond man with a beanie, though Merida did quickly find Rapunzel and Flynn.

"Hey, Merida. Eugene's just packing his gear." Rapunzel's smile was sweet, with the usual glow she had after competing. Not even a flicker of doubt or guilt over not being the top performer, a fear Merida now knew to have been solely nurtured in the past by the deposed foster mother.

"Well," Merida replied, peering past her friend to Flynn who was trying to untangle some of the buckles on his bag. How the man didn't rattle when he carried his gear, she would love to know. "If master Flynn Rider disnae hurry, am away tae the diner for lunch withoot him."

"Ich komme, ich komme!" he muttered, flustered as he finally seemed to find the strap he needed. The bag pulled taut with a satisfying zing. Eugene stood, a beaming smile on his face as the bag swung onto his shoulder. "You said... Diner? You paying?"

"Har, har, very funny." Merida rolled her eyes. She grinned. "Ah'm only paying if ye admit ah'm a better shot than ye."

The indignant protests and Rapunzel's chuckles were a pleasant feeling as they made their way to the diner. It helped take the edge off Merida's nerves, and relax her.

She felt blessed to have them as friends.

To be continued...

Author Note: I've seen a few snippets of Merida gaining powers like Elsa's (usually of the fire flavour), but I've never really seen the reverse.
Was hoping to keep this short, but that's clearly not happening. I hope you enjoyed what I have for you so far.
(And apologies for any archery enthusiasts, my research has been lacking - most noticeable, perhaps, in how I'm having Elsa compete with a compound bow against Merida with her recurve, I believe? Any pointers on what would be most necessary to research are welcome.)