Young Macintosh did not want to go. He was lying in the morning sun. His companion was a large dog. It was beautiful to him this was the most beautiful place in the world. He had thousands of women already looking at him. He didn't really love them. In fact he hated most of them thought he'd never say it to their faces. They were so . . . superficial? He wasn't but he put on the front that he was to appease what his parents wanted and what the public wanted. Perfection. He learned to expect it of himself.

"Wot if Oi mess up a' 'e games Riona?" He asked petting the dog that had her head laid on his chest. "'ey'll be displease' wi' meh."

She nuzzled her master. He pet her fur. A tear ripped down his cheek. "Oi'll make sure yeh get sent ta meh shoul' I be chosen 'Riona. Bu' Oi'll never see this place again. Nor will yeh Oi'm 'fraid."

He wanted to bring his family pride and honor but at what price? This place filled with gentle rolling hills and not of steep mountains as his father had described. He didn't much care for horseback riding but he'd ridden out here to spend his last night with his beloved friend Catriona the husky dog.

He was lying where his younger brother had been attacked by a pack of wolves. He'd come running but was seconds too late. He was lying on this hill thinking of the young man the child might have become. Young Macintosh himself was only about four years older than his younger brother was and his father was still sore from the loss. However, he had accepted the potential that his son might be the next king. That, and the fact he still had young daughters to teach, feed and protect. Wee Donalbain Macintosh wouldn't be forgotten by any means, but his death didn't stop any worlds from turning. Malcolm Macintosh's world stopped though.

He became more absorbed in stupid things such as war paint and looks to try and block out the feelings he had after his brother's death. He stopped writing and drawing. He began focusing more on beating things up and on girls than he had ever before. He once was a writer. He wrote stories that he hoped would become legends. His brother used to listen intently to whatever Young Malcolm had come up with. Now, there was no one who wished to listen so the dream lay long forgotten.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. "Toime to go 'Riona. Toime to go an' face meh fate."

. . .

Lord Macintosh sat with his head on his hand. He watched Fergus, his king, rave about Mor'du. So what already. He thought. He looked to his son. He was swept up in this madness. Didn't he know? Didn't he know what that demon was capable of?

He watched as the other fathers smiled proudly at their son's enthusiasm. He noticed the boys just being boys. Throwing their hands in the air they whooped and smiled. They were ready to take on the world. Macintosh watched his son throw back his dark hair. At one time, he was so like his son. At one time, he thought he was indestructible. He learned harshly when he lost his son. When Lord Duncan lost his son Donalbain and nearly lost his oldest Malcolm fear gripped him. He feared he would lose his oldest.

A particularly loud and strong yell came from his son as Fergus finished. He looked to his son obviously trying to cover for his temper tantrum earlier. Perhaps, if his mother hadn't pushed so hard for perfection and perhaps, if he hadn't asked for so much strength, his son wouldn't have been so discouraged.

Young Macintosh was ready to prove to the princess that he was good for her. He was the Mr. Right she was looking for.

. . .

Young Macintosh found himself being the first to speak on Merida's proposal to allow their hearts to be won.

All the fathers, Fergus excluded, seemed to be shocked that their sons hadn't wanted to leave.

If only yeh'd known 'bout 'Riona father. Young Macintosh thought to himself.

Merida grinned at the boys. She wasn't alone. She was shocked that Young Macintosh lover of all things with long hair and skirts hadn't wanted to come and fight for her.

Macintosh smiled at her in return. She could tell there was something about him. Something she hadn't seen before. He was nervous. He was bright. He had big ideas. There was something in him that had been sparked when she'd said "legends are lessons." She saw it a sparkle in his eyes that she'd never seen before. His pure sapphire blue eyes complimented by the blue war paint along his arms.

"Speakh tah me later my fair lass," he whispered on their way down to the cellar.

She giggled all the way over to her mother. Yes, there was something about him. Something new, she was impressed.

. . .

Malcolm Macintosh backed up as Mor'du took for him. He'd tried to get a slash in turning the bear in his direction. Merida shot an arrow and Elinor would go for him again and the three of them seemed to be doing a fairly good job of containing the giant bear until things got out of hand.

Mor'du eventually seemed to recognize something about Merida and charged for her causing Elinor to charge the bear. Malcolm backed away as Mor'du was thrown into one of the stones. The stone of Stonehenge was cracked. The bears continued their fight. Young Macintosh was often as impulsive as he was handsome. He went to charge but the bears toppled once more into the stones. Lord Duncan Macintosh ran forward to his son. The young teenager was frozen. Lord Macintosh put an arm protectively around his son's body. He stepped in front and shielded his son from the fighting bears.

Young Macintosh saw that the rock of Stonehenge was falling the opposite direction that Queen Elinor had wanted it.

He pushed his father away and motioned for the other boys and King Fergus to help the stone go the other way. It fell just at the right time on top of Mor'du.

Lord Macintosh ran to his son. He looked him in the eyes and hugged him tightly.

"Whe'" he asked nearly breathless. "Did yeh eve' grow up?"

"Dunno," Young Macintosh said his head in his father's mess of hair. "Oi never thought 'bout it 'fore Oi guess."

Their affectionate moment was broken by Merida's sobbing into her mother, who was still a bear's, neck. His heart broke for her. He nearly went to her when he witnessed the amazing feat of magic. Elinor was a human being.

When the family was reunited the wee naked baby boy's included. Macintosh laughed. After they'd tackled King Fergus, they ran off again.

"BOYS!" Fergus boomed.

"Gocha," Young Macintosh said grabbing all three in his long arms.

Merida was impressed. She was very impressed.

The teen even wrestled them into clothes. Something, that as far as she remembered, not even her parents were able to do.

. . .

"Yeh leave tomorrow," Merida whispered.

"Aye," he nodded.

"Yeh can't no' with ou' seein' somethin' first." She smiled.

He followed her riding one of the large horses. She laughed as he nearly fell off.

"'S the Fire Falls," she said smiling.

"The Crone's tooth," he whispered.

"Oi've cloimed I'," she said.

"Oi've neve' seen anythin' loike I'," he whispered amazed.

She watched him. She watched him stare at it.

"I's silly really," he said looking up at it, "Oi used ta think 'bout legends and writin' stories and the loike and now 'ere Oi am roight in fron' 'o one."

"Oi din' know yeh wrote," she whispered interested in this new development.

"I don' anymore," he said quickly.

"Whoi ever not," she asked dismayed.

"After my brother Wee Macintosh was killed there wasn' anyone around who wanted to listen to the stories Oi 'ad ta tell."

"Tell meh yer stories Oi wanna 'ear 'em," she said leaning against the Crone's tooth.

No need ta cloimb I'. Oi 'ave somethin' betta ta do now. She thought.

She listened. She hung on his every word. He was a brilliant storyteller. Why hadn't anyone encouraged this? It was much better than his arrogance.

"Who on Airth told yeh ta stop this?" she asked.

"Moi mum doesn' particularly care fer impairfection," he said with a shrug.

"Well, don' turn hear into a bear over I'," she suggested with a wry smile.

He laughed softly. "Yeh really hated us all tha' much?"

"No, Oi, Oi'm jus' not ready yeh know. Oi don' wanna mess I' up. Oi already did tha' so Oi'm no' sure whoi 'm still scared."

"No, No, Oi know wha' ya mean, Oi'm scared too."

"Yeh? Yeh're scared?" She asked incredulous.

"Oi'm scared of loosin' a chil'." He said softly lifting his sword from the ground and prepared to tackle going back.

She stood and grabbed his shoulders.

"Between the two 'o us weh wouldn'" she whispered. It almost sounded like a promise.

. . .

There it was. It was huge. She squealed. She sprinted following the whips as fast as she could. She let out a loud cry as the large wolf picked up speed. It's black coat shined in the sun light.

Once young, now King, Macintosh ran up the hill to find his dark haired daughter in the same position his brother had once been in. He sprinted over to her slashing at the deranged animal with all his might and power.

Merida clasped her arms protectively around the child just as her mother had when . . . no, Macintosh!

She grabbed her daughter and they galloped toward her father. He fought valiantly alongside the older Wee Dingwall and the now Lord MacGuffin. Her father, Fergus, was also helping. The wolf clawed her husband's chest. She shot an arrow into the wolf it remained unfazed.

"I's cursed," she whispered under her breath. Her eyes darted to him. She remembered the pain her father had been in when Mor'du.

"Malcolm! Malcolm 's cursed! The wolf's cursed loike Mor'du 's cursed. Ge' ou' 'o there!" She shouted.

She shot more arrows and his sword smashed against the animal's jaws. It eventually ran but not without a low growl and a snap at King Macintosh's sword.

He grabbed his wife and daughter into his arms and hushed them both softly, "'s alright now, weh, weh're all safe nowu," he whispered.

She, his daughter, was crying later that night. His chest hurt terribly from where he'd been scratched. Merdia had bandaged him well enough. He hurt though. He heard his daughter's soft cries.

"Wha's wrong mah wee darlin' chil'?" he asked.

"Oi was scared fer yeh when mummy tol' me the wolf was loike Mor'du that I' was a cursed wolf. Please, don' go back out ta foight 'gain. Please," she looked up at him.

"Oi can't promise yeh that. But," he said lifting her down cast face. "Oi can promise Oi'll always be with yeh."

"Oi love yeh da'," she whispered.

"Oi love yeh too moi dear," he whispered.

She nuzzled him her dark hair falling in waves against her back. He pet it softly and began to sing.

"A naoidhean bhig, cluinn mo ghuth

Mise ri d' thaobh, O mhaighdean bhan

Ar righinn oig, fas as faic

Do thir, dileas Fein

A ghrian a's a ghealaich, stuir sinn

Gu uair ar cliu 's ar gloire

Naoidhean bhig, ar righinn go

Mhaighdean uashaill bhan" She nuzzled into him deeper and sang with him.

"'ave room fer three down there?" Merida smiled.

The two parents took either side and repeated the song tucking her in.

Merida traced the scar to be. She looked up at him and buried her face in his wounded chest.

"No more," she whispered. "Yeh coul' 'ave los' yer leg loike mah father or yer loife. No trackin' these possessed animals anymore."

"Oi didn' track Merida. Oi don' yeh know that."

"Yer men do," she said pertinently.

"Oi know Merida. I'll speak to them," he said holding her shoulders.

"Good." She whispered.

They stood looking at their child the moonlight bathing them in her room. She kissed him full on the mouth.

"Yeh never fail ta blush," she said giggling.

"Yeh're so beautiful. . . Oi can' 'elp it." She laughed harder.

"Fer a boy 'o was once so superficial and vain yeh're quite romantic," she giggled as he lifted her bridal style towards their room.

Those are the lyrics from Noble Maiden Fair from the movie. I love that song so much I couldn't help but feature it.