A/N: I just want to write a story in Brave as a gift for my niece and myself. If there were other stories with the same plot, I will apologize in advance and it was merely coincidence.

Note: Some of the words will be written in Scottish Gaelic forms. The unusual ones will be translated at the footnote of the chapters for your convenience. The term 'Wulver' means werewolf and I will stay true to the Scottish legend instead of the stereotypical hollywood werewolf one but I won't give anything more than that.

Disclaimer: I don't own Brave. All properties of the film are owned by Pixar. The plot and OCs are mine.

Now, shall we?

-Wulver-

Prologue

The Scottish land was spread with lush green grass and forestry that have many stories to tell. From the murky waters of the loch to the haunting woods that littered with shadows, and sometimes, tiny lights of the will-o-wisps. Although some say that legends were just myths, how were legends born but from actual events?

A beautiful morning greeted the people of DunBroch, the fresh breeze carried the stray leaves and the smell of the crisp mountain enticed a young princess who stared longingly out of her chamber.

"-da"

"Oh what I would give to ride of with Angus and practise with my bow and arrows" the flame haired girl sighed, leaning her head towards the window sill and enjoyed a little sweep of air that brushed through her wild curls, her eyelids slowly covering her baby blue coloured eyes.

"Merida..."

"No annoying suitors but now I'm filled with more lessons..."

"Merida!"

"Ack, mum, can we just skip the lesson already? I want to shoot some targets or I might get rusty!' Merida whined as she stared at the clarsach with great dislike.

"You would've been shooting arrows now if you have been practicing your clarsach wee lassie" Queen Elinor of DunBroch tutted, also known as her mother.

While the queen had been more loose handed with her uptight attitude after the bear incident with her daughter, she still wishes that her only daughter would at least show some interest with their culture. Merida groaned and began to pluck the strings half-heartedly as Elinor demonstrated with her own clarsach, "More strumming, less plucking dead"

Merida blew a stray hair from her vision and began to play. The piece was for a small gathering between the clans of DunBroch and its allies, namely the Macintosh, Macguffin and Dingwall. If memory serves Merida right, it was the festival of the moon. It was that special time when the moon will turn blue and stories say that magical creatures will be astir. A tiny laugh exited her lips, she met a witch not a month ago (and a very expensive whittler to boot) and the wisps would make themselves known whenever she travels the forest with Angus and she's pretty sure the sun was still high up in the sky.

Although the wisps will make themselves known for a moment and when she blinked, they were gone again. 'Strange,' she thought, 'the wisps didnae linger for more than a second. And I thought I have already made to change my fate' Lost in her thoughts, her finger slipped through the string and accidentally cut her finger.

"Gah! Oh that stings!" she hissed as she withdrew her hand and stared at the fingertip of her pointer finger that slowly stained red with blood. Elinor immediately placed her own clarsach on the table and kneeled next to her daughter.

"Merida! Does it hurt?"

"It's fine mum, just a scratch" A wave nostalgia hit her, it was the same thing she said to her mom when she turned into a bear. Luckily Elinor didn't notice and held out her sore finger, "I think that's enough lessons for now. It is a braw day and it would be a shame to waste it, just get Maudie to fix this alright?"

Beaming widely, Merida flew off out of the chambers with a quick thanks to her mum, throwing the clarsach recklessly in a random direction which, thankfully for Elinor, landed right inside a cloth sack. She grabbed her prized bow and quiver that was hooked by the door and raced towards her destination.

She ran through the twists and turns of the halls and took the last stairs to the left that led directly to the kitchens. Several of the cooks looked up and greeted her while her brothers; Hubert, Harris and Hamish, dodged Maudie with plates of pastries and a chunk of mixed berry cake in their hands.

"Oh those lads! They will rot their teeth inside out" Maudie sighed as she placed her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. Merida bit her lip from laughing at the head maid's dishelved appearance and walked towards the gasping woman, "Maudie, d'you have something that can heal this?"

The woman automatically went through the cupboards and fished out a clay pot filled with salve. She dabbed it on the wound and just told Merida to not let anything touch it before she ran out to retrieve the kidnapped sweets.

A clean scrap of cloth that was taken from the seamstress' drawer became the cover of her injured finger as she walked casually towards Angus. Angus ate through his meal of barely and crushed seeds, his tail swishing left and right with his contentment.

The horse was already aware of her presence and tried to swish his tail to her face only to have her pat him on the underside of his chin "Nice try laddie, I already know when you're going to do that. Ready to run?"

Angus whinnied in agreement and stomped his hoof as Merida heaved herself up on his back and secured her weapons, already accustomed with her green dress and placed a cloak over her clothes. With a loud "Let's go!", the stallion raced out of the village with Merida waving at her father who was busy chatting with other clan members, no doubt recounting his story about the loss of his foot to Mor'du. Some children looked terrified while most of the adults were bored; no doubt Fergus had been talking their ears off about this story.

The sun-dappled trees were a sight to see and the promise of clear weather fueled the princess' veins with adrenaline. Taking her bow in her hands and an arrow at a ready, she began to take aim on one of her usual targets and gave a whoop of delight as it shot clean through the target. All the targets she aimed were perfect and happiness filled her being that she didn't realize she was already travelling through the darker part of the forest that she wasn't familiar with.

Angus began to feel uneasy as the cawing of crows covered their surroundings and a thin sheet of fog covered the ground. Merida held on to the bewildered stallion and tried to soothe him with a soft voice when she saw something move behind the trees. Blinking with uncertainty, she gently pulled on Angus's mane to slow him down and focused her gaze on the shadows of the forest.

Bravery was her pride but she can't deny the fact that she was plagued by the large shadow of a beast that lurked within her dreams. She first got them after her mother returned to her normal form and it still happens in the present. Talking about it with her parents might raise an alarm for them to shield her from the forest but it also took a toll for her, depleting her much needed rest and began losing concentration. Why, just the other day, she missed her mark by three centimeters!

Brushing a hand through the thick patch of her hair, she grasped her bow tightly as the sound of something walking towards them, snapping twigs along the way and the crunch of dried leaves. Angus nervously took several steps back before Merida patted him gently to calm him down. Knowing that it won't make any difference, she slid off of the horse and took aim at the shadowed part of the forest.

"Show yourself!" she demanded; her eyes focused to aim in perfect accuracy.

Instead of a beast, out came a lad, older than her for a year or two and in his glove covered hand was a dirk. He was wearing a hood that concealed his face but she could see a fair complexion of his skin although not as pale as hers and couple of dark brown hair poked out of his hood. The exposed part of his cloak showed that he wore a burlap shirt, not uncommon for peasants, a sporran (which made her want to burst into laughter) and leather slacks. His feet were protected by boots covered with fur and a necklace of fangs of some animal Merida had never seen before.

The boy looked up to Merida, and she could see the colour of his eyes through the faintest light the hood will permit, the odd combination of gray and blue, it was like staring at the sky after a raging storm. He didn't lower his weapon and neither did she, the just stood there, waiting for the other to move before the boy lowered his dirk and suddenly spoke,

"Who are you?"

Merida blinked in confusion; surely this boy must know the daughter of the king who owns this land? Or at least know her since the mishap she'd caused months before. But here he was, standing in a defensive stance, weapon at a ready and threw her a look of great suspicion.

"I'm Merida, daughter of King Fergus and Queen Elinor of DunBroch" she answered airily as she pulled off the hood back from her face, letting her descriptive hair frame her freckled face. No doubt within seconds he will throw himself at her feet and ask for forgiveness of not recognizing her. But to her surprise, he merely bowed at her as a polite gesture before turned around to leave. Feeling a bit annoyed at his cue to dismiss her, Merida crossed her arms and took a step forward, "Hold it!"

The boy stopped at mid-stride and slowly turned towards her, a firm set in his jaw and hissed, "What?"

"I told you my name, you tell me yours"

"And why would I do that?"

"Manners!"

Great, she started to sound like her mother, but at the moment, she didn't care. If she won't get any respect as a royal, then she should at least get some respect for equal grounds. Don't get her wrong, she doesn't want to flaunt her status but with the way he was acting, she would even wear those air-cutting dresses Elinor would force her to wear just to prove a point.

He didn't take off his hood like she did but he opened his mouth and simply said "Alistaire of the Moor" before he entered the shadows again and disappeared.

Merida wanted to follow him but something told her it was a bad idea. A small flicker of blue light caught her eye from where 'Alistaire' was standing before. Carefully walking towards it, she held out her fingertips towards the disembodied flame before it disappeared above a small wood carving. She slowly picked it up and traced the detailed carving of a wolf.

"A wolf?" she asked to no one in particular before she placed it in her quiver and rode on Angus, eager to hurry home as the sun started to set.

Dinner was... entertaining as usual.

The triplets had been creative on how they could make the haggis disappear while Fergus would rave on and on about the bears he had conquered while Elinor lectured Merida for placing her bow on the table.

"It's already like family" she grumbled as she placed it on the ground next to her seat.

Elinor just rolled her eyes and took a slice of haggis before saying "Boys, eat your haggis or you will have no desserts for a year" without looking up from her plate. The triplets gave a defeated sigh and Hubert retrieved the haggis from the chandelier and passed it down to Harris and lastly to Hamish before they tuck in, their faces twisted with disgusted expressions.

Merida played with her own haggis before she stood up and excused herself. Elinor asked her if anything was wrong but she just reassured them she was just tired and wanted to retire early. Taking off the cloth from her now healed fingertip, she washed her face from the basin and pulled her hair away from her eyes.

She changed to her nightclothes, a simple white dress and her hair a bit frizzled by the humidity of the weather that made her wish she could tame it. Finally, she eased herself in her bed and closed her eyes.

A few minutes later, she was tossing and turning for her dreams that was once filled with a mix of colors and happy memories were now marred with shadows and a mournful howl of a wolf.

A/N: How was that? Won't you please tell me your opinion? No flames please~

Wee lassie: Little girl

Braw: Fine, beautiful

Clarsach: A small harp that was used during festivities (it was also seen in the film)

Didnae/Cannae/Donnae – Respectively as Didn't/Can't/Don't

Dirk: A Scottish long knife use for hunting or battle. Scotsmen were said to make an oath with their dirk

Sporran: A man purse tied to their waist.