Fate be changed, p.1
Fate Be Changed, page 1
Copyright © 2024 Disney Enterprises, Inc., and Pixar. All rights reserved.
Published by Disney • Hyperion, an imprint of Buena Vista Books, Inc.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.
For information address Disney • Hyperion,
77 West 66th Street, New York, New York 10023.
First Edition, April 2024
Library of Congress Control Number 2023031245
Hardcover ISBN 978-1-368-07795-8
eBook ISBN 978-1-368-09702-4
Visit disneybooks.com
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue: Merida
Chapter One: Merida
Chapter Two: Elinor
Chapter Three: Merida
Chapter Four: Merida
Chapter Five: Elinor
Chapter Six: Merida
Chapter Seven: Elinor
Chapter Eight: Merida
Chapter Nine: Merida
Chapter Ten: Elinor
Chapter Eleven: Merida
Chapter Twelve: Merida
Chapter Thirteen: Merida
Chapter Fourteen: Merida
Chapter Fifteen: Elinor
Chapter Sixteen: Merida
Chapter Seventeen: Merida
Chapter Eighteen: Elinor
Chapter Nineteen: Merida
Chapter Twenty: Merida
Chapter Twenty-One: Merida
Chapter Twenty-Two: Merida
Chapter Twenty-Three: Elinor
Chapter Twenty-Four: Elinor
Chapter Twenty-Five: Merida
Chapter Twenty-Six: Elinor
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Elinor
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Merida
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Merida
Chapter Thirty: Elinor
Chapter Thirty-One: Merida
Chapter Thirty-Two: Elinor
Chapter Thirty-Three: Merida
Chapter Thirty-Four: Merida
Chapter Thirty-Five: Elinor
Chapter Thirty-Six: Merida
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Merida
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Elinor
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Elinor
Chapter Forty: Merida: Elinor
Chapter Forty-One: Merida
Chapter Forty-Two: Merida
Chapter Forty-Three: Elinor
Chapter Forty-Four: Merida
Chapter Forty-Five: Elinor
Chapter Forty-Six: Merida
Chapter Forty-Seven: Merida
Epilouge: Merida
About the Author
Dedicated to the memory of my own Mama Bear. I will love and miss you forever, Mama.
—F.R.
PROLOGUE
Merida
Princess Merida of Clan DunBroch squinted, bringing the funny-shaped knot on the tree trunk into focus. When she had been here a fortnight ago, she’d managed to hit it from thirty paces. This time, she backed up fifty paces. If she made this shot, it would prove that she was the best archer in all the Highlands. It didn’t matter that no one other than her was there to see it.
Merida straightened her shoulders and concentrated on pulling in slow, steadying breaths. She shut out the sounds of the forest critters going about their day. It was just her and the tree. For the next few minutes, nothing else existed.
She homed in on the knot, focusing on the center of it. She reached behind herself and pulled an arrow from her quiver. Merida slightly relaxed her grip on the bow, remembering the instructions her father had given her when she was but a wee lass. Too much tension could send the arrow flying past her target.
She fit the bowstring into the notch on the tail end of the arrow, pulled it back, and—
“Princess Merida!”
“Bloody—” Merida stopped herself before the rest of the curse could move past her lips.
“Princess, where are you?”
She released a frustrated sigh and turned in the direction of the voice.
“Over here, Thomasina,” Merida called to the woman, who worked as one of the queen’s maids. “What is it?” Merida asked, though she did not need to hear Thomasina’s answer. She already knew why the maid was here and who had sent her.
A moment later, Thomasina’s covered head crested the short ridge.
“Oh, Princess, there you are,” she said, puffing slightly as she climbed the rest of the way. “You must come now. You need to get ready for the evening meal.”
Merida frowned. She thought the maid had been sent to call her in for her lessons, not to prepare for dinner.
“Now?” She looked up at the sky. The sun was still high. “We won’t sit for a meal for some time.”
“The queen wants you washed and dressed in your formal léine and DunBroch tartan,” the maid said.
Merida drew her head back. “Why?”
She wore her formal léine only on special occasions. Why would the queen want her dressed in it for dinner? So that her three rambunctious brothers could cover it in whatever food the cooks had prepared?
“Do you not remember, lass? The King and Queen of Sinclair Kingdom are in residence tonight. Your mother wants you in your best attire. And for you to be on your best behavior,” Thomasina added with no small amount of judgment in her tone.
“Oh, bugger!” Merida exclaimed.
“Princess!” Thomasina shouted.
“Sorry,” Merida said. She had completely forgotten about the Sinclairs’ arrival, and what would be required of her because of it.
Merida resented nearly every single aspect of being a princess, particularly those as trivial as keeping up appearances. But during her many lessons on her duties as a member of the royal family, her mother had imparted the importance of presenting a united front when visited by the heads of other sovereign kingdoms. Clan Sinclair was as formidable in eastern Scotland as Clan DunBroch was in the north.
At least she would not have to speak all that much at the evening’s meal. Her mother would expect her to sit like a docile lamb and eat dinner while the adults at the table discussed boring kingdom business. She would take her cues from her mother, laughing when she laughed and remaining stoic when she did.
That should please Queen Elinor.
One thing that would not please her mother was if her daughter smelled like the forest when she sat down for dinner. Merida brushed her fingers through her hair and came away with several twigs.
“Perhaps I could do with a bath,” Merida muttered. She gathered her bow and quiver and, with Thomasina trailing behind, headed back to Castle DunBroch.
The castle was brimming with activity by the time Merida returned. She dodged servants carrying armloads of linens, platters, and other items that would be used to adorn the Great Hall. Her mother would insist it had nothing to do with impressing their guests, but Merida had attended enough of these gatherings to know better. Success would be measured by the amount of favorable chatter regarding the dinner that spread throughout neighboring clans.
Merida quickly made it to her room and, after scrubbing her skin to within an inch of her life, sat at her vanity while a maid fussed over her hair and gown. As usual, her riotous curls would not be contained, and after a half hour Merida told the maid to leave them be. She would rather have shown up for dinner with unruly hair than shown up late.
In the end, it did not matter.
Merida entered the Great Hall, head held high in perfect posture, only to learn that the King and Queen of Clan Sinclair had been delayed by weather. They would not be joining them that evening after all.
“Ah, look who got all dressed up for dinner.” Her father, King Fergus, laughed as he gestured to Merida with a pheasant leg.
Merida stared at the rest of her family, all wearing normal everyday attire.
“Why did no one tell me that we would no longer have guests?” she exclaimed. Her father only laughed harder.
Merida growled. “I am going to change,” she said, turning on her heel.
“Oh, don’t be foolish,” her mother called. “Come and sit before your dinner grows cold.”
“I do not care about eating cold pheasant,” Merida said as she marched toward the Great Hall’s entrance. “I am—”
“Merida,” Queen Elinor announced in her most queenly voice.
Merida stopped. She turned, making sure her expression conveyed her disapproval, but she would not get into an argument over such a trivial matter. When it came to her mother, she knew which battles were worth fighting. Having to eat pheasant in a starched léine was not one of them.
Taking a reluctant seat at the table, Merida dodged a barrage of peas that one of her brothers catapulted at her.
“Boys!” she barked.
“Harris, Hubert, Hamish, not tonight,” her mother said.
The redheaded triplets all sat up straight in their chairs, wearing innocent expressions. It was the reason they got away with everything. No one could resist those sweet faces.
Merida picked a stray pea from her hair and started on her dinner. She had to admit that her mother was right; the pheasant, peas, stewed kale, and oatcakes were best enjoyed hot. She shoveled the food into her mouth, suddenly realizing how ravenous she was after an afternoon of archery.
Merida mumbled answers to her mother’s inquiries regarding her whereabouts that
“Are there not better things to discuss at the dinner table?” Merida lamented.
“What could be better than love?” her father asked. He leaned forward, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Did I ever tell you the story of how I met your mother?”
“Please, Dad, not again.” Merida rolled her eyes.
“Ah, it’s your family history, Merida.” He turned to the triplets. “Boys, listen up, this is a great one.”
Merida sighed. “You were on the way to Clan MacCameron to deliver a message from the chieftain,” she recited under her breath.
“I was on the way to Clan MacCameron to deliver a message from the chieftain of Clan DunBroch,” her father said at the same time, lifting the other roasted pheasant leg from the platter before him.
Merida looked to her mother, who returned an indulgent smile as her gaze pivoted to her husband.
“You see,” her father continued, a far-off gaze on his face, “Clan DunBroch was under the rule of King Douglass MacCameron at the time. And while we were…friendly,” he said, gesturing with the pheasant leg as he spoke, “our clans were…”
“Not friends,” Queen Elinor said.
“We were friendly competitors,” King Fergus amended.
Elinor rolled her eyes. “If you say so.”
“Where was I?” Fergus asked.
Merida jumped in. “You were on a journey to deliver a message from the chieftain when your horse was spooked by a hare. The horse threw you, you hit your head on a big rock, Mother rescued you and nursed you back to health, and the two of you fell in love. The end.”
“No, no. You missed all the good parts,” her father said.
Merida sighed. She had been hearing this story since she was a wee lass. It was her father’s favorite. Well, his second favorite, right after the one where he single-handedly defeated the sinister monster of a bear, Mor’du.
“It was a sensitive matter of great importance,” he continued. “I had been sent because I was the chieftain’s most trusted soldier—and his favorite son,” he added. “My da knew that I would get word to King Douglass without delay.”
“But he did not know that you would be felled by a wee bunny rabbit,” Merida teased.
“That’s right!” Her father hooted, slapping the table with his massive palm and causing his goblet to teeter. “That little bunny shot from behind a tree like a bolt of lightning. Spooked my horse good. You would have thought the monster from Loch Ness himself was chasing us. I held on for as long as possible, but he still managed to throw me.”
“And that’s where I first saw your father—sprawled in the grass like a wounded animal,” Queen Elinor said.
“But you were brave,” Fergus added, pride beaming in his eyes. “She recognized my DunBroch tartan and was ready to put up a fight.”
“Until I remembered that we were to be friendly to Clan DunBroch,” Elinor said.
“She helped me climb onto her horse and brought me to MacCameron Castle. Of course, there were others in her clan who would have left me injured in the forest.” Merida’s father reached for her mother’s hand and captured it in his own. “She nursed me back to health, even though there were others with more skill to do so.”
“I felt responsible for you,” the queen said.
“I think you felt something else for me,” the king said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Oh, Fergus.” She slapped his hand, her cheeks turning as red as Merida’s hair.
As much as Merida lamented hearing this story over and over again, she always found herself smiling when they reached this part. To look at them, many would say her mother and father were an ill-matched pair. But if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that they loved each other fiercely. And her father loved to tell people about it.
“You will one day have your own husband to contend with,” her mother said to Merida.
Merida tutted. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“It is your duty as a member of this family to marry so that you may begin assuming more royal responsibilities and maintain the peace between the clans. This kingdom depends on it, Merida. It is your fate.”
Her mother’s voice was resolute, but Merida would not be bullied into something so life-altering.
“Well, I refuse to believe that,” she said. “There must be another way to maintain peace without marriage being involved. Besides, I do not see why I must be concerned with any of that. There are others to help with running the kingdom.”
Her mother and father shared a look that put Merida on edge, but just as she was about to press harder, Hamish snatched a sweet from a platter and sent the entire thing crashing to the floor.
Chaos ensued. The dogs scarfed down all the cakes before anyone had the chance to rescue them. Harris and Hubert jumped out of their seats and started running around the dining hall, bumping into their caretaker, Maudie, and sending the basket of bread she was carrying flying into the air.
The dogs attacked the bread as fiercely as they had attacked the pastries.
“Boys!” Merida’s mother yelled.
Meanwhile, her father chortled, gaily helping himself to another piece of pheasant and a swig of mead.
A typical night at the dinner table in Castle DunBroch. Little did Merida know this rowdy meal with her family would soon be the least of her problems.
CHAPTER ONE
Merida
Three months later
Merida’s heart beat wildly as she marched behind her mother. She ignored the stares of the people who had just witnessed the most brazen act of defiance Merida had ever dared perform against her parents. When she hid the bow and arrows on the dais with the intention of shooting for her own hand at this year’s Highland Games, she had known that it would enrage her mother.
She did not care.
Nor did she care what the people of their kingdom who were gawking at her with such astonishment thought about her. They knew nothing of the pressure she felt—the weight of the responsibilities she carried as the daughter of the king. They could attend these games without worrying that their freedom hung in the balance.
Merida kept her head held high, never wavering throughout the journey across the grounds and into the castle and finally into the sitting room. Once they reached their final destination, her mother slammed the door and lashed out.
“I’ve just about had enough of you!” her mother hissed.
“You’re the one that forced me—”
The queen pointed at the door. “You embarrassed them. You embarrassed me! I told you before that this marriage is your fate! It is your responsibility to this kingdom!”
“But that is unfair! It is not my fault I was born into this family. Why must I suffer the consequences for something I never asked for?”
Back and forth they went, talking over each other, each trying to get her point across.
“I will not be forced to marry!” Merida yelled.
She drew a claymore from the display stand, not because she thought she needed the long sword for protection, but because she felt more at peace with its heavy weight in her hand. Her mother had never understood her. She wanted Merida to be like her, a prim and proper royal lady. But Merida had never felt drawn to that life. She wanted to be free.
She relished the feel of the wind in her hair as she raced her horse across the glen. Delighted in the exhilaration of hitting a target from fifty paces away with her bow and arrow, or tumbling in the dirt with her three brothers.
She was her father’s fierce lass, not her mother’s proper princess.
Years of pent-up frustration and resentment poured forth from Merida’s mouth. She knew she should stop. She knew her mother deserved her respect, not the venom she was now unleashing on her.
But she could not help it. She’d held in her feelings for too long, and look what it had led to: her mother believing that she could marry Merida off to some bumbling stranger just because he shot an arrow at a target. Was that all she was worth to her parents?
She would not stand for it.
