The day of the tournament was bright, clear, and cheerful. As the men from all four clans ran about, competing in the tournaments, Kirk Dingwall, only heir to the Dingwall tribe, sat curled up in a tree, watching the other heirs converse with their families. In all honesty, Kirk couldn't care less about this whole affair. He probably wouldn't win, anyway, he'd never held a bow in his hands in his life. Probably the heir to the Macintosh clan would win it; he looked competent enough. What would most likely happen would be he'd lose the competition, and return to his castle, and his library. He missed his books, the cool interior of his room, and the quiet.
He didn't really care about getting the princess, either way. The only reason he was going through with this at all was for his father. It had been his idea, in the first place, so Kirk had agreed.
"Wee Dingwall?"
He looked down to the base of the tree to see Lord Dingwall staring up at him.
"What are you doing up there?" His dad demanded, and Kirk quietly climbed down the tree.
"I was just clearing my head, dad." He replied quietly. "I don't like people."
"I know, son, but it's almost time for the competition." Lord Dingwall gently laid a hand on Kirk's shoulder. "Come on, let's get you your bow."
Kirk tagged along behind his father as they wove their way through the crowd, and back to the Clan Dingwall tents. "Are you nervous?" His father asked.
Kirk shook his head. What was to be nervous about? He was going to lose, anyway. He'd just get home faster, this way.
"That's the spirit." Lord Dingwall beamed, and pushed his own bow into Kirk's hands. "Make me proud, son."
That, Kirk was not likely to do. They both knew he had no idea how to handle a bow, but he gratefully smiled, anyway, and hesitantly made his way out to the archery range. This many people, all watching him, made him jittery, and he forced himself to zone out, so that he didn't chicken, and hide behind someone bigger and more impressive than him.
Math was always safe. He could think mathematics without panicking, or losing a beat.
Two times two was four.
Four times four was sixteen.
Sixteen times sixteen was two hundred and fifty-six.
Two hundred and fifty-six times two hundred and fifty-six was sixty-five thousand, five hundred and thirty-six.
That was when he was startled by the horn blowing, signaling the start of the competition. Distractedly, he plucked at the bowstring, and glanced toward the first heir, heir MacGuffin. He was a heavyset type, and he loaded an arrow into his bow, pulled the string back by a tiny fraction, and released. The arrow sailed through the air, and sunk into the target, on the outermost ring.
MacGuffin sighed in disappointment. It appeared as if he wasn't the only one out here with literally no experience. Perhaps he could come in second? That wouldn't label him a failure, but he wouldn't necessarily have to marry the princess, without being a total disgrace.
He glanced back at the target warily. More likely, he'd miss the target completely.
Macintosh was next, and pulled the bow string to his ear with all the confidence of a professional.
Still, the arrow flew into the target, just a little to the right of the bullseye. That made it his turn.
As Heir Macintosh screamed in defeat, beating the ground with his bow as his father shouted out something or other, probably a condolence, Kirk struggled to pull an arrow from his quiver. It was way harder than it looked, and, in the process, he spilled every other arrow out onto the grass.
No worries. The contest was not pulling arrows out of quivers. He could still possibly hold his own. With a bit of difficulty, he fitted the arrow to the string, and pulled it up to aim towards the target. The stubborn arrow kept drifting off the mark, and he to correct it at least twice. Narrowing his eyes, he pulled back, and…
"SHOOT, BOY!" The king shouted suddenly, and, startled, Kirk released the arrow.
Worriedly, he turned back to the target.
To his shock, he'd hit dead center.
Dead center.
His face lit up, as he turned to his father, who was dancing a jig in his glee. "Well done, boy!" He called, as everyone gaped in shock. For once in his life, he'd lived up to the Dingwall name. He turned to the royal box, to catch a glimpse of the princess, but…
The princess wasn't there.
"I am Merida!" A strong voice called out across the field, and Kirk looked up to see the princess standing tall and proud in front of the crowds. What in the world was she doing? "Firstborn descendant of Clan DunBroch, and I'll be shooting for my own hand!"
A ripple of disbelief swept through the crowd, and Kirk stepped back, surprised. She didn't want the wedding?
As she stepped up to the first target, she began to pull back her bow. Here seemed to be some difficulty, her dress was too tight. With a frustrated grunt, and "Curse this dress!" She flexed her muscles, ripping the seams irreparably. Finally, she was able to aim properly, and she smiled in satisfaction as she let fly an arrow.
Bullseye.
The queen shouted in outrage, and began storming across the field, towards the princess, but she made no move to stop. Instead, she loosed another arrow into the next target, barely even looking at it.
Bullseye.
"Merida! Don't you dare loose another arrow!" Queen Elinor shouted.
The princess stepped up to Kirk's target, and stopped, narrowing her eyes as she aimed…
That was when the queen caught up with her, and grabbed her arm. The arrow flew off sideways, and landed harmlessly in the grass.
"How could you, lass?" Elinor hissed, quiet enough that only Merida and Kirk, who was still standing nearby could hear.
"I played by the rules!" Merida protested, as her mother pulled her back to the royal box, and seated her down in her chair.
This was an interesting turn of events.
Merida didn't want the marriage.
To be honest, neither did Kirk, but he couldn't really have protested… until now. Merida had changed everything.
As his father rushed forward to congratulate him on his victory, Kirk kept his eyes on the princess. "Dad… do we have to be married?" He asked quietly.
"Well, of course you do!" His dad clapped him proudly on the back. "You won, didn't you?"
"Aye, but…" Kirk frowned, but Lord Dingwall was already leading him towards the royal box.
"Lord Dingwall!" King DunBroch beamed happily, shaking his father's hand. "Congratulations! I, ah… I'm sorry for my daughter's behavior…"
Kirk glanced at Merida, who was sulking miserably in her seat.
"No trouble." Lord Dingwall assured.
"Well, would you like to discuss the wedding over dinner?" King DunBroch offered. "And, ah… Wee Dingwall?"
Kirk looked up nervously, glancing behind the king at Princess Merida's absolutely livid face. If she had anything to say about it, he'd probably be dead before morning. Either that, or he had no idea how read women.
King DunBroch laid a hand on Kirk's shoulder, bringing him back to reality. "Welcome to the family."
TheOnlyHuman.