Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Once upon a time – that's an odd way to start a story, isn't it? How do you decide where “once” took place? Is it when the action bursts forth? Is it when love enters the scene? That brings forth another question – if you're talking about someone else's story, where in their life do you pick up? Maybe it's just when their normal life was disrupted and the changes began. Yes, perhaps this will do. But who am I to define such qualifications?

Maybe you've heard of me. Maybe you haven't. It doesn't matter. The important thing is this is a story about a boy who took hold of his own destiny. I'd like to think sharing his epic journey will help those seeking their own place in life... or at the very least, bring entertainment to those who desire it. Isn't that the job of all good stories?

But in order to properly tell you this tale, it might be best if I start over. Let's skip that 'once upon a time' nonsense, and I promise to keep all bias out. This story begins one day before the boy's eighteenth birthday. That boy is prince Mickey of the Rao Kingdom.

~*~

On that morning, the day before he was to become an “official man”, as his father insisted, Mickey was awake before the sun was up. He wasn't feeling particularly lazy, but he was in no hurry to get up either. He stared at his ceiling, which was a large mural depicting several stories that his mother had told. He faintly remembered being a young child and being asked what stories he wanted shown up on the ceiling, and he had shouted “Sinbad, Sinbad, I wanna see Sinbad!”

So there was Sinbad, the famous sailor and hero fighting an array of villains – a monstrous kraken, undead creatures of the night, and rival pirates trying to steal his bounty. Treasure laid at his feet, and he was apparently saving some beautiful women from utmost disaster, his sword thrust out in his hand, a winning grin across his face. Every night before Mickey went to bed, his mother would come and tell him more stories of the sensational Sinbad, and Mickey would stare up at the ceiling, imagining that the painting was coming to life and acting out his mother's words. Tonight she'd do the same thing, and this made Mickey frown.

He was almost an official man, and official men didn't have their mommies telling them bedtime stories. It was time to grow up and leave the world of fairy tales behind. Mickey wasn't exactly sure how one did that, however – how you just snapped your fingers and went from being a child to a man. He didn't feel any different than he did a year ago or the year before that, and he doubted he would feel changed tomorrow. The only idea he could come up with was leaving the childish fantasies back in the past where they belonged. Maybe he could order the councilor, Pete Qut, to paint over it in white – no, black, black was the color of grown-ups! Sure, he would miss the painting, but he'd get over it, surely.

Maybe then Pete would show him actual respect – not the respect to a prince or the son of the world's most famous storyteller, but because he was Mickey. Just Mickey.

Traces of sunlight began to filter into the room, and Mickey slid out of bed. He needed to bathe and change before he could have breakfast with his parents, but first, as with many mornings, he went to the balcony and pushed aside the billowing curtains. From his room, he could see the furthest reaches of Rao, and spotted specks that he knew to be villagers ready to start their day.

He smiled as he watched them, enjoying the scene of a passing stranger assisting an elderly woman with her wagon. Children were running about before their elders would yank them to their classes. Warm greetings floated on the soft wind. Mickey loved the people here, and he loved all of Rao very deeply. It was often why he ran away from home to be among them, as he planned to do after breakfast.

After he bathed and put on his freshest robes, he walked out into the hallway, passing servants who bowed once they saw him.

“Good morning, son of Scheherazade.”
“Highest of blessings unto you, son of Scheherazade.”
“May tomorrow bring you nothing but joy, son of Scheherazade.”

“Good morning,” Mickey replied each time, his once strong smile weakening with every greeting. They meant no harm, but gosh that got annoying over seventeen years. Living in a gigantic palace that had almost ten servants to every room meant that every hour on the hour Mickey was constantly reminded of who he was and why he was so important to them – as if he needed to be reminded! There were days he nearly forgot his own name, he heard it so little.

With an inward sigh, he approached the dining hall, knocking on the big blue doors twice before walking inside. “Morning, everyone...” He braced himself, biting his lower lip.

“Good morning, son of Scheherazade!” A choir of no less than twenty servants replied, as well as the councilor. His parents had already started eating, and Pete was between them, going over notes on a flaky scroll. Mickey quickly walked to his chair, and as he passed each servant they continued to tell him the same things he'd heard year after year after year -

“Your new robes shall be finished by tomorrow, son of Scheherazade!”
“Shall we replace your linens? Yes, excellent, wise choice, son of Scheherazade!”
“We've prepared nothing but the best for your meals today, son of Scheherazade!”

Mickey was tempted to stick his fingers in his ears to try and drown it all out. He managed to climb into his chair and bowed his head respectfully to his parents. “So, uh,” he began a little nervously, unsure how to approach the subject in his head. “Tomorrow's the big day, is it?”

“Tomorrow?” his father mused, Sultan Muhtim Algalb of Rao – often shortened to just Al – stroking his long black beard. He was a tall man, tall in everything – long arms and legs, a long neck with a long face, and even his beard was long, reaching all the way down to his stomach. Mickey was the exact opposite – short in everything, with short arms and legs, short neck, short face, and any attempts to grow a beard were short-lived. “What's so special about tomorrow?” the Sultan joked, rapping his fingers on the table and turning to his wife. “Most beloved, can you think of anything that occurs tomorrow?”

“Nothing comes to mind, my sweetest,” Sultana Scheherazade was beautiful, with dark eyes that drew in all that looked at her, and wavy night-dark hair that rolled past her shoulders. Her every move was elegance, her every word a poem. Mickey remembered his mother once saying she had a face for stories – that her hair was like a curtain, pulling back for a stage, and her lips were the actors. The play today was “Teasing Our Boy”. “I wonder whatever he could be talking about, my sun on the brightest day.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, hoping this teasing wouldn't go on for too long – or the flirting. “Are you two ever going to stop acting like newlyweds?”

“It's easy to criticize when you don't understand!” Al laughed, reaching over to ruffle his head between Mickey's ears. Mickey was fond of the gesture but put on a pout – official men shouldn't enjoy snuggles from daddy. “One day, you'll find your special someone, and you'll moon over her the same way I moon over your mother!” Mickey doubted this, he hoped he'd sooner step in camel dung. Him giving lovey-dovey petnames to some woman – that'd be the day! But such comments would sound childish and he kept his mouth shut, allowing Al to laugh again and then slap Pete on the back. “Say, Pete! Would perhaps you know what's so special about tomorrow?”

Pete wasn't enjoying this back-and-forth any more than Mickey, although he had his own reasons. 'Councilor' was really only a title – no one needed to advise the wise Sultana, and the Sultan always took his advice from the Sultana, so in reality Pete was more of a bookkeeper and babysitter. He didn't want to be roped into the game, so he grumbled and checked something off his list. “It's the kid's birthday tomorrow, last time I checked. Now, as I was saying about these farmers-”

“I'm not a kid,” Mickey interrupted with a glare, but then fumbled. “I mean, I won't be, tomorrow! Tomorrow I'll be eighteen. Why, I'll be an adult!” He put his hands on his hips, hoping to instill some authority between him and Pete, but Pete just snorted.

“Your birthday!” Al threw his hands up with joy, smacking Pete in the face and ignoring the “OW!” that came with it.. “My son, my one and only son, now he's becoming a man!” Without any warning, he shoved his hands under Mickey's arm and lifted him up, and the Sultan danced around the long wooden table. “My son, the man! The Prince of Rao, one day soon to be Sultan of Rao!”

“Pa, put me down!” Adult men who were to one day be Sultans shouldn't be so easy to lift like rag dolls! “Ma, make him stop!”

Scheherazade had taken up a napkin and was dabbing the corners of her eyes. “No, it can't be already! Why, just yesterday you were in your swaddling clothes... and now, eighteen? I refuse to believe it!”

“Believe it, lady,” Pete growled quietly, rubbing his sore nose. “About these farmers-”

“But it's not just any birthday!” Al went on, putting Mickey down so that his son was standing on the table. “It is the birthday of the son of Scheherazade! This must be celebrated throughout the land! We will have a party that lasts all day and all night!”

“Ma... Please...” Mickey groaned, sitting down on the table, hoping to get some sense into this oddball conversation.

Scheherazade allowed herself a few more sniffles before standing up and lightly touching her husband on the shoulder. “Perhaps we should reel back, dearest. We can't throw an impromptu party whenever we feel like it... Our people need to work, they would all be quite upset if their busy days were suddenly interrupted.”

Al clicked his tongue to his cheek before nodding, reaching over to squeeze the hand on his shoulder. “As always, you see through the dark clouds of my foolishness. Whatever would I do without you, my earth and air, my life and wife?”

“You shall never know, my other half and reason to be.”

His lovesick parents were just about to kiss and Mickey was just about to gag when Pete thrust his scroll in between the smooch. “DO YOU MIND LISTENIN' FOR A COUPLE OF SECONDS?!” he bellowed, his anger bouncing off the walls. He was one of the very few people who didn't bend over backwards to praise the royal family, mostly because he didn't see anything praiseworthy about them. He yanked the scroll back, pointing hard at his lines. “You gave the farmers twice the land they asked for! That's going to double the amount of money they'll need from our – er, your treasury!”

Scheherazade took the scroll from Pete to read it over before giving it an affirmative nod. “Yes, we did. It was to make up for the terrible loss in crops last year. It's hardly their fault we had such awful growth. Besides, we have more money than we know what to do with. The best way to spend it is on our people.”

Pete huffed, crossing his arms. “Aw, who cares about a bunch of peasants? If they were so great, they'd have their own treasury! The more you give them, the more comes out of my salary!”

“Which is still more than what 5 villagers combined make in a year,” Mickey quipped, having grabbed his bowl and begun eating his breakfast.

Pete easily turned on Mickey, close to snarling. “And how do you know how much a peasant villager makes?”

“... Uh... ” Mickey paused, food in his mouth, eyes going anywhere for a better answer than the truth. “...Lucky guess?”

Al sighed deeply, crossing his arms as he faced his son. “Have you been sneaking out into the kingdom again? How many times have I warned you against that? It's more than I have hairs in my beard! It's too dangerous out there for a prince!”

“It is not!” Mickey insisted, putting the half empty bowl in his lap. “I like being out there! It's fun! You never let me do anything, you always tell me that son of Scheherazade should need for nothing!” His mother looked guilty, her eyes darting away for a moment. “Well, what about what I want? That's different than a need!”

His parents exchanged silent looks, and for a time Mickey was distracted with envy. Though he certainly didn't want a sappy romance, he did wish he could have a relationship with someone where they could understand each other merely through eye contact. If he wanted a lady love – and this was a pretty big if – he wanted someone who knew him better than anyone else did. But that would mean someone would want him for being something else than the son of Scheherazade, and there was nothing else. Mickey had no amazing stories or dashing adventures to speak of. He was a plain, boring prince.

Al exhaled heavily, waving a hand in an attempt to dismiss Pete. The Councilor only went so far as the doorway, wanting to complain some more about the money he felt the villagers didn't deserve. “All right then,” the Sultan started up again. “What is it that you want? You name it, and you shall have it! You are our son, you can have anything you desire!”

Mickey hesitated. “How is that different than any other day?” Every day he was given the best clothes, the best food, the best toys, the best books, the best of everything. He didn't even have to ask for it, his parents showered him with gifts all the time. It had instilled guilt within Mickey as he had felt he'd done nothing to earn these treasures. His was a story with no words on the pages. He'd never done anything exciting, anything worthy to be hailed over, and the closest he'd ever come to having anything remarkable in his life was...

… was something he didn't care to think about. He rubbed the scar on his neck, one that was hidden by his fur, a habit whenever he was nervous. “What I want is to be treated like an official man. I want to be a real adult. So the only thing I'm asking for on my birthday is...” He drew a breath, still reluctant about the idea but knowing he had to go through with it, “... is to get rid of the mural on my ceiling.”

“Of Sinbad?” His mother balked, a hand to her heart. “Are you serious? You love his stories! You said you wanted to be just like him when you grew up!”

“Well, I'm grown-up now. Or I will be, tomorrow.” Putting the bowl aside, Mickey hopped off the table. “And it's time I put these made-up stories away. I can't go on believing in magic and pirates and bad guys that want to take over the world.” He looked back and forth between his parents, mustering up a stern look he had practiced in his bedroom mirror. “Starting tomorrow, no more stories, and no more Sinbad. That is all I want for my birthday. Understand?”

He expected his mother to look heartbroken, and perhaps for his father to be angry. It wasn't easy for their parents to have their children thrust the demands of adulthood in their faces. Yet these weren't the faces of disappointment. Al was sucking onside of his check, his fingers knotting together nervously. Scheherazade was chewing on her lower lip, and she had a hand to her chin, as if mentally debating a serious matter. Pensive, that was the word Mickey decided on, even though he couldn't understand why they'd be like that over this simple matter.

Whatever was in their heads wasn't in Pete's, he was bored by the entire talk. He didn't care if Mickey was treated as an adult or a child, because in the end he'd still get the royal treatment. The constant adoration in the family aggravated him to no end. The brat got everything for doing nothing, whereas Pete had to work for every single scrap of food he'd ever eaten. It was Pete's bad fortune to have poor parents. Now here he was, a combination of difficult effort and pity, living the high life in the palace while these lovebirds frittered away their coins on people who clearly never worked as hard as Pete did. Not that Pete ever checked such matters – his worldview consisted of “me, myself, and I.” Now that he had his, he didn't care if anyone got theirs.

The Sultana came to a decision, a thumb to her lip, trying to resist the urge to bite her decorated nail. “Tomorrow... yes, lots of things will happen tomorrow. If you still want your wish granted by the end of that day, then it shall be so. If that is what will make you happy... and you know that is what we desire most of all.”

At this Mickey finally relaxed, and his little smile returned. He hadn't thought either of them would say no to his wish, and he bowed graciously. “Thank you.”

Al cleared his throat then, suddenly uncomfortable. “Tomorrow is tomorrow, today is today, and today you need to go to your lessons. Councilor, escort the prince.”

“But what about my money? … Your money?” Pete tried again, but the Sultan held up a flat hand, signaling the end of the discussion. He grumbled in his throat, opening the door for Mickey to confidently walk through. “Yeah, yeah, gods forbid we keep our treasure in the treasury, let's just hand it out to every dirty hand that reaches out...” he continued to mutter even when he left the room.

Once they were alone, Scheherazade picked up Mickey's bowl, silently staring into it. Al approached her, his arms out. “You don't have to tell him tomorrow... why, you never have to tell him at all! No one need ever know the truth about your stories!”

“No,” she lightly protested, putting the bowl back down. “It's time he knew... It's time the entire kingdom knew. Even if it means my cherished son thinks differently, he deserves the truth. And tomorrow, he will know everything.”

Al's gentle arms came around his wife's waist. “No matter what, he will always be our son. He will always love you, no matter what you tell him.”

She smiled and leaned on his chest, closing her eyes to take in his warmth. She didn't want to expose her secrets – until she met the Sultan, she had thought she would carry them to her grave. But like any good story, there had been twists and turns that made her rethink her values. When she married her one true love, she wanted him to have all of her, including the things she'd hidden. When Mickey was born, she felt another sense of love wash over her, and she wanted to tell him when he was old enough to understand. Eighteen... an official man... There would be no better time.

Al rubbed her shoulders, trying to perk the conversation back up. “Come. Let's work on our gifts. There's plenty more to do.” He took her by the wrist and pulled her along, trying to delay the uncomfortable business as long as possible. His wife obliged – yes, if there was an option to concentrate on more joyful things, of course she'd jump at it.

The Sultan and his wife loved each other very much, and they loved their son just as deeply, and they loved their idyllic family life – if only things could stay that way forever.

~*~

Mickey had no intention of going to his lessons, and Pete knew this. The cat was checking around for windows and doors that Mickey could run through, any curtains that could be used as ropes, any stairs Pete could be made to trip over. He was used to Mickey's tricks, and Mickey could feel Pete's eyes on his back with a hard, intense glare. Mickey wasn't really sure what he'd done to deserve such hate – surely a few sneak away tricks wouldn't cause such deep dislike! But then Pete was always grouchy for one reason or another. He supposed that was why his mother picked Pete as the Councilor, like a pet project, a man she could reform, the same way she had reformed the Sultan.

Mickey then decided if he was an official man-to-be, it would be best if he took charge. In the middle of their walk, Mickey turned around, hands on his hips, puffing out what little he had of a chest . “You know, Pete,” he began, trying to make himself as tall as possible. “You really need to listen to my parents! The treasury is meant to be used however we see fit, and if you've got a problem with our spending, it has to be a bigger problem than us helping people!” Yes, good, that sounded very man-like, full of self-assurance and dignity!

Yet it fell completely flat on Pete, who blinked down at Mickey as if he was nothing more than a bothersome gnat that kept hovering around the same meal. “Maybe it's high-time you learned that helping people helps no one! They'll just depend on you forever for every problem! Do you want to spend the rest of your life helping people?”

“...Yes?” What kind of a silly question was that?

Pete, he of a dark mind and selfish heart, hadn't expected that response. “I don't get you people at all,” he huffed, poking his stubby finger into Mickeys big black nose. “You have all the riches in the world, all the power, but you waste it on every crybaby you pass by! It's a dog-eat-dog world out there! If I was the Sultan, you'd never see me throwing good money to anybody who just asked for it!” Pete would spend it wisely - Fancy clothes, fancy food, fancy girls, it'd be nothing but fanciness for the rest of his life, and who cared what happened outside of the palace? If they didn't work hard enough to be that rich, that was their own fault. Nobody helped him, so why should he help anyone else? In the end, everyone only cared about themselves. Anyone who thought otherwise was a pushover that deserved to be pushed. Maybe he could build a big wall to block everyone else out. He'd dreamed about this scenario far too many times.

Mickey roughly shoved Pete's hand away from his face. “Good thing you're not Sultan, in that case!”

Then came a second surprise. Mickey expected Pete to sneer and huff and puff and whine all about how unfair it was that the royal family was so nice, and indeed, Pete was slowly moving his jaw around, looking ready to go into his standard spiel about poor people deserved to be poor and other nonsense. But instead of going into the tirade, Pete began to smile – not a friendly one, not one that understood the all encompassing love that the royals had, but it was still a happy smile. Like he was imagining some far off fantasy and what happened now didn't truly matter. It sent a chill up Mickey's spine.

“No,” Pete finally said, nodding once. “No, you're right, I ain't the Sultan. And a'course, you're not the Sultan either. Even if you are the big one-eight tomorrow, you're still just the prince. Why not spend the last day of your youth goin' out into the kingdom and having fun?”

“...Huh?” Mickey wasn't sure he heard right. It almost sounded like Pete was encouraging him to run off.

“Come on, skedaddle, while the sun's still out!” Pete waved his hands, chuckling merrily. “Think of it as an early birthday present, from me to you!”

The prince considered that perhaps this was a joke or a prank, but Pete couldn't master subtlety like that. He scratched his head, still puzzled, yet tempted to take up the offer. “Gee...you really mean it?”

“I absolutely mean it!” He then shrugged with one shoulder. “I'll just tell your tutor you got lost, or were busy doing something else... Don't worry about it! You go enjoy your last day being seventeen. Everyone deserves being happy on that day!” He clapped again and again, stepping forward, as if using his body to encourage Mickey to get going.

Mickey was not one to look gift horses in the mouth, nor really consider the consequences of his actions. Perhaps his mother's work was finally getting through to old Pete. A smile began to form, a laugh followed it, and Mickey turned on his tail. “O-Okay!” he shouted through pleased laughter. “Thanks a million, Pete! You're not such a bad guy after! I'll see you later!” Not wanting to risk his luck a second further, Mickey bolted down the hall to the nearest door, kicking his heels in glee.

Pete kept up his lively applause until he could no longer see the young prince. “Yep, that's right, I'm not the Sultan...” Then came that wicked smile of his once more, the one that knew of things that even the so-called wise Sultana was ignorant about. Let the boy have one more day of fun before his life came crumbling down. “...Not yet.”

~*~

Mickey rarely had a plan in mind whenever he flew away to the kingdom outside, save for one place and one person he made sure to visit every single time. He decided to start his day there, and with that he made a beeline for the butcher. He could already hear trouble brewing – a dog was barking, a man was yelling, there was clanking and clamoring. Mickey grinned – his only friend in the world was in trouble again.

He slowed down as he approached the shop, almost missing the blur that dashed out and sped into the nearest alleyway. The butcher came out next, smashing his teeth and waving his knife in the air. “That lousy pain in the butt!” he howled, unaware of who was watching him. “When I catch him, I'll make him into mincemeat! That mangy no good rotten-” His cavalcade of insults stopped abruptly when his eyes fell upon the prince. The butcher faltered, and then bowed deeply, one arm under his chest. “Oh sacred son of Scheherazade! You honor me with your presence!”

Unfortunately that annoying nickname followed Mickey wherever he went. He put his arms behind his back, the picture of innocence. “Is somethin' the matter, old pal?”

That lit the butcher's anger again, and he raised his fists in the air. “It's that thief again! I'll tan his hide and make six sandwiches out of his fat belly!” He exhaled hard, and then eyed his visitor. “Have you seen him?”

Mickey knew exactly where the culprit was. “Nope, can't say that I have.” He lied easily – small fibs were simple if you thought of them as stories. “But if I do, I know right where to send him!” Nowhere near the butcher, that was for sure.

“Of course, of course, you're a very good boy.” The butcher sighed, acknowledging his defeat. “But... it's not a total loss. I have the son of Scheherazade at my doorstep, this must be a sign of luck from the gods.”

“Let's not go nuts here,” Mickey muttered under his breath.

“Here, I'll give you my finest work today!” Not having heard Mickey's remark, the butcher speedily returned to his shop to pull out a gigantic steak. Once it was securely wrapped up, he proudly strode up to Mickey and placed it in his hands. “Please enjoy! Nothing would make me happier than to have my meat be the reason you grow up healthy and strong!”

Mickey began to smile, and sincerely hoped the butcher would leave it at that. “Thanks a lot! Your place is always the best!”

But the butcher didn't leave it at that, no one ever did. “Please give your divine mother my blessings! And I would be overjoyed to see you here again, son of Scheherazade! Your presence always brings cheer to all!”

Mickey's lips still held an upward curve but there was coldness underneath. Any kindness bestowed upon Mickey, be it gifts or idle flattery, was always because of his mother. Mickey didn't bring cheer to anyone. His mother did, and he was nothing more than a reflection of her, a reminder of the amazing things she'd done. That wouldn't end no matter how old he turned. “Yeah... thanks.” His enthusiasm died out, and he made sure to turn away before his face fell. “I'll tell her.”

He heard the butcher wish him well and fondest goodbyes, and once he heard him go back into his shop, Mickey ran to the alleyway, hearing a familiar voice pant heavily. Now Mickey could smile a genuine smile, for this was someone who was always genuine with him. “I told you to stop stealing, you nutjob! I always get something nice for you. You gotta learn some patience, that's what you gotta do!”

His companion walked on all fours out of the shadows, unable to respond – not that any dog could, although Mickey liked to imagine those fervent pants sounded like “Yeah, yeah, yeah!”, always agreeing with what Mickey said. This was a mutt true and true, no purity to its blood, its mangy fur perhaps once proudly gold but now a dusty yellow. His thin black tail wagged with excitement to see his friend, and ignoring the stolen sausage he'd nabbed minutes ago, he jumped onto Mickey and covered him with slobbery kisses.

Mickey collapsed with laughter, hugging the dog tightly. “I missed you too, Pluto!” The first time Mickey had run away, he'd found a little puppy shivering all by its lonesome, hidden under rags that grannies had thrown away. It didn't belong to anyone, or to put it more accurately, no one wanted it. Mickey had instantly taken pity on this creature so much smaller than himself, and after politely asking around in the marketplace for leftover scraps – and instead was given giant baskets of food, being a certain son and all – he had let the pup eat until it could eat no more. The puppy instantly rewarded Mickey with wet licks to his cheek, and in that moment Mickey understood that here was someone who liked him without knowing or understanding where he came from.

He had taken the puppy into his arms and ran straight home, begging his parents to let him keep it – look, he already named it, after one of those lessons from his tutor, please please pretty please- but they had declined. It could be carrying vermin and disease, and they simply couldn't take risks anymore, not after the day he'd gotten that scar. Mickey had no choice but to let the dog return to the village – but he would visit again, and again, and again, and here they were now, rolling around in the dirt with so much cheer they felt their chests would burst.

Mickey finally managed to push Pluto off, scratching his ears affectionately. “When I become Sultan, you're going to live in the palace! I'll get you a nice collar and your own pillows and everything!” Pluto yapped, nodding its head. “A-huh, and we're gunna play fetch every day! You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Mickey kissed Pluto on the head, giving him a few more adoring scratches before getting to his feet. “Well,” he clicked his tongue, pretending to be haughty, “since you've already gotten yourself a pretty big treat, I'm giving this steak to someone else! Someone who really needs it! Maybe next time you'll wait for me, and then you'll get your big, fat, juicy steak, huh?”

Pluto smiled sheepishly, picking up the links of sausage and dutifully nibbling. Mickey didn't know much about dogs, but he liked to think Pluto was smarter than most. He whistled, and Pluto obediently stepped up to Mickey's side. They walked out into the sunlight, Pluto still chewing on his victory and Mickey whistling a merry tune. Just like inside the palace, anyone who saw Mickey greeted him with that atrocious name, but at least out here they didn't ramble on about it constantly, as they had lives that didn't revolve around him. Mickey would often stop by a shop or a school to peek inside and make sure all was well. If all wasn't well – if a rowdy ne'er-do-well was harassing a shopkeeper or a crying toddler couldn't find their mommy – then he would make it well. But he didn't see anything grand or spectacular about this. It was just what a good person did, and the world was filled with good, boring, ordinary people.

It was well past noon when he found a sizable stick and gave it a toss for Pluto to chase. He wondered if he'd have the time for these walks when he was the Sultan. His parents never did, yet they ran the kingdom perfectly, so maybe they never needed to. Then again they weren't searching for someone like Mickey was. They weren't looking for someone to acknowledge who he was, even if there was nothing to acknowledge. After the third toss, Mickey yelped as Pluto nearly ran down a small child, a boy with messy hair. “Easy there!” Mickey shouted as he ran over, but the boy seemed to be more confused than injured. “Aw gee, I'm sorry about that! Pluto can be a bit too eager sometimes, can't you, Pluto? You apologize now.”

Pluto whined and lowered his head. The child smiled, reaching over to pet the dog with both hands. “Is this your dog, mister?”

“Kinda. Sorta. Maybe. Ish.” Mickey debated on the right word to use – until it hit him what this child had said. “...What did you call me?”

The child blinked up at him with glassy eyes. “Mister?” There was no recognition here.

Mickey froze. True, it was impossible for him to have met every single person in this vast kingdom, and it was possible that many of the younger generation weren't familiar with him just yet. Here was an opportunity Mickey had wanted and failed to prepare for. He stuttered, fumbling and almost dropping the steak under his arm. “N-No, that's fine! It's more than fine! It's...” He shoved the steak into the child's hands, cleared his throat, and then put a hand to his heart. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this right. Who knew when the next chance would come, if ever? “My name... My name is-”

“The son of Scheherazade!” came an elderly voice from behind.

Mickey had to bite down on his lower lip in order not to let several colorful expletives fly, as unknowingly learned from his father. His neck craned to see who had blurted it out. It was a very old woman, and she hobbled over on her walking stick. The child hugged her good leg. “Granny!”

“I was looking for you everywhere, silly boy,” The grandmother cooed, tenderly stroking the boy's hair. “Don't ever scare me like that again!” She faced Mickey, he of many face twitches and suppressed tempers. “How can I ever thank you for finding my grandchild, oh wondrous son of Scheherazade?”

“It... it was just a coincidence,” Mickey mumbled, and Pluto pushed his head into Mickey's open palm in an effort to support him.

The child tilted his head. “Sch... Scheh... who is that?”

“That is our Sultana.” The grandmother pointed towards the shining palace with a long, bony finger. “Have I not told you this tale?” The boy shook his head, and Mickey sighed sadly. “Long, long ago, a very evil woman broke the Sultan's heart. And her evilness spread to his soul...he wanted to make the whole world feel as awful as he did. So he commanded a bride be brought before him – so he could kill her that night, as revenge! But the brave and amazing Scheherazade volunteered to be his wife. He planned to murder her that night, but before he could try, she wove a story so deep, so complex, so thrilling... yet she didn't finish it. She said she would continue the story the next night. The Sultan was so enthralled by the story, he decided he'd delay her death until the next night. But the next night she wove an even more amazing story... and the night after, and the night after, for one thousand and one nights, until the Sultan's heart was cured of its evil by Scheherazade's stories and her love.”

The child looked over to see who the son was of such an astounding hero, but Mickey was already walking away, his head hung. “And that's her son?

“Oh yes, that is the son of Scheherazade. Is he not a most fortunate boy?”

Of course Mickey knew the story – and Mickey knew that also wasn't the full story. It was the child friendly version. The child wasn't ready to hear of the real story, of betrayal and blood and agony. A fortunate boy? Him? He touched the scar on his neck, and for a few seconds, he was in the past.

IT'S NOT FAIR! HOW DARE YOU LIVE?! WHY DO YOU DESERVE TO LIVE?!

“I still don't know,” he whispered to a memory that had stayed with him for years and would never leave. Why did he deserve to live? What was the purpose of his life, the point of it? He felt tears come and pressed his arm to his eyes, trying to make it stop.

Wasn't there someone, anyone, out in this great big world who would love him for Mickey? Could such a person exist, and give meaning to his existence? Here in this great and glorious kingdom that numbered thousands, he felt all alone. What he wouldn't give for someone to take him into their arms and tell him they loved him as Mickey, and not as the son of Scheherazade?

No... surely that person was as imaginary as his mother's stories.

Mickey made the decision to go home, with Pluto following his every step. At the palace gates, he turned and knelt down. “Time to say goodbye, Pluto,” he said gently, slowly petting his pet. “One day you'll come in these gates with me.” But he knew if he tried today, the burly guards that stood left and right of him would kick the mutt back out. “Just gotta be patient... you can be patient, right?” It broke Mickey's heart to pull away, and Pluto left one last lick on Mickey's cheek. Mickey managed to tear himself away from his friend and walked back into the palace.

As soon as Mickey couldn't see or hear the pup anymore, the dog was abruptly snatched by the guards – but not to kick him out. No, there were other plans for this confused dog.

~*~

Night came and Mickey laid in his bed, staring up at the mural of Sinbad the sailor. It would be the last night he stared up at this picture, so he tried to memorize every last detail. When he heard the door creak open, he knew who it was without even looking. “Hello, Ma.”

Scheherazade walked in slowly, careful to hold her burning lamp with both hands. Mickey never took good care of his own lamp, and it was often dusty and dirty and wouldn't light. So his mother would bring in her own, often using its illumination to dramatize her tales. She knelt by his bed. “Hello, my sweet son. I know tomorrow, you want that mural painted over... which means you no longer want my stories either.”

Mickey sat up in bed, hugging his knees. “I gotta stop being a child, Ma, even if you still see me as one. Magic's not real, Sinbad's not real, I can't go on listening to stories. Real men doesn't listen to stories.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Your father likes my stories.”

“Pa drools every time you open your mouth.” He got his ear pinched for that. “Okay, okay! But I meant it, it's time I started living like a man!”

The Queen placed the flickering lamp on a nearby table, her hands in her lap. “Tomorrow will bring a great change in all of us...but that is tomorrow. This is tonight. Tonight, you are not a man.” She smiled, and glanced up at the mural. “So that means I still get to tell you one more story.”

Mickey wound up smiling, and he laid back down, his hands on his chest. “Fine, fine, fine. Just one more story... but it's gotta be about Sinbad.”

Scheherazade laughed. “Yes, of course! Sinbad and his magical flying ship! And his rowdy team – the killer couple, the harm with charm, the gunslinger singer....where should we go today? Shall Sinbad meet his bride on the moon? What about taking on the living dead from the depths? Or a swim through the pool of eternity, only to dry off on a flying carpet?”

As Scheherazade listed her options, readying herself for her greatest story ever, Mickey took one last look at the mural. He'd enjoy this story, and then never hear one again. Tonight would be the last night - he was done with make-believe magic.

Little did he know magic wasn't done with him.

Chapter Text

One of the many luxuries that Councilor Pete had was his own private room in the castle. Sultana Scheherazade had wanted Pete to feel that he was not only a respected man of the royal court, but also family, if he so chose. It would be easy to call her naive, but she wasn't ignorant of Pete's selfish ways. She honestly believed that since she healed the Sultan's heart so many years ago, she could do the same to Pete. Unfortunately, there are souls who don't want to be saved.

That wicked soul was up at midnight, taking his time to carefully open a dark violet chest that contained many secrets. As far as the royal family knew, it was a gift from one of Pete's relatives that lived far away. But Pete didn't have any relatives that lived far away – no, this had been a gift for him and a curse for others. As the heavy chested opened, black smog began to spew forth, and a low voice spoke from within the shadows. “Is everything in place for tomorrow?”

Pete stuck up his thumb. “You got it! I've got it timed down to the second! Everything will be right on schedule!” He then hesitated, drawing out his 'but' as slowly as possible. “Buuut...”

“Don't test me, servant,” The voice growled, a pair of red eyes burning inside the smoke.

“I'm sure it's nothing!” Pete said very quickly, holding up his hands in defense. “It's just – I overheard the Sultana say a special guest was coming tomorrow, for the brat's birthday! But I can handle it! I know I can! It's probably just some fancy diplomat bringing even more gifts! That's all!”

The voice grumbled deeply, considering this matter. “You know I don't like changes to my plans. This had better be the only disruption.”

“It is, I swear it is!” Pete clasped his hands together, hoping the owner of the voice could see him beg. “I made absolutely sure of it! Come on, this is my chance to become Sultan, you know I wouldn't risk messing it up! You can count on me!”

After a tense, silent moment, the voice spoke again, now calmer. “Very well. You've come this far, I don't think you would fail me at our most important hour...for your sake.” Inside the box came the sound of thunder, and a black ball suddenly jumped out, landing in Pete's hands. It was cold as ice, and heavy as marble. “Once you've established that all three are alone, you will take this enchantment and place it under the sunlight. The beasts will be unleashed and will continue to spawn forth until you shatter the orb. One strike with your blade should suffice after the family has been taken care of.”

Pete held the orb up to his eyes, unable to stop grinning. Hard work had gotten him as far as Councilor, and now he had worked up to usurper. He had been chosen for this devious plan, and he was going to see it through until the end. Maybe then those foolish royals would understand that helping everyone and anyone could stab you in the back. His rule would be a fierce one, and if those peasants didn't earn their keep, they would have no one to blame but themselves. When a farmer leads a viper into his barn, he should expect to be bitten.

“You'll get yours, and I'll get mine,” Pete chuckled, watching the black smog begin to evaporate. “I bet even Scheherazade couldn't come up with a story as great as this!”

~*~

Once again, Mickey woke up earlier than he meant to. He didn't feel any different, which was unsurprising yet also disappointing. Manhood probably wasn't supposed to be instantaneous, but even just a hint of authoritative feeling would have cheered him up. He was still sad to have the mural leave along with his mother's stories, but surely in time he'd adjust. He hopped out of bed, checking on his beloved citizens from the balcony – after checking his height, which had yet to improve either, dang it – before going into his usual routine. He knew gifts were coming, and a lavish banquet, and singing and dancing and hooting and hollering, all for his day of birth – but in Mickey's frank opinion it was still another ordinary day. He got gifts and big meals and celebrations daily.

Still, as he entered the hallway and received his morning greetings -

“Happy birthday, oh son of Scheherazade!”
“We have always been blessed to have you with us, son of Scheherazade!”
“May your upcoming years be as happy and joyous, son of Scheherazade!”

- He put on a smile and tried to keep an upbeat attitude. Past birthdays told Mickey that breakfast was delayed until the presents were opened and they'd done at least three silly dances, so he headed to the throne room to get things rolling.

As Mickey began to open the large doors to the throne room, the golden doors in the shape of charging elephants, he could hear his parents talking – they seemed exasperated, but not in a deeply annoyed way. The Sultan was carrying a long, thin, brown box under his arm with decorative swirls of silver in the shape of soldiers battling. The Sultana was holding a large bundle in her arms, a clumsily wrapped heap of something that also had a long curious shape. Al's gift was refined and dignified, but the gift in Scheherazade's hands seemed like someone had tried to wrap it blindfolded and with one hand behind their back. Mickey blinked wildly to make sure he was seeing correctly. It wasn't like his mother to be so messy.

“So if I'm understanding this right,” Al was saying, biting on his cheek to keep from bursting into laughter, “He meant for it to arrive after he arrived here, but somehow it arrived before him?”

“You must admit, it's not a huge shock,” Scheherazade mused, fingering a ripped piece of wrapping. “Why, if it had been on time, I wouldn't have believed it was from him.” They shared a hearty chuckle over this matter. Pete was off in the corner, a large bulge in his upper right pocket, and he seemed to be glancing at the window every couple of minutes.

Mickey cleared his throat to announce his presence, and then tried to make a regal entrance – chin up, chest out, arms rigid, and ow, this was uncomfortable. “Ma, Pa – I mean, Mother, Father, good morning!”

His parents easily dropped the topic of conversation, their faces full of glee and excitement. “Happy Birthday, Mickey!” they chimed together, and Mickey had no doubt if their arms weren't full they would have scooped him up for endless hugs and kisses. Even now they appeared to be resisting the urge to toss aside their presents and do exactly that.

Mickey smiled – for all his hardships and loneliness, he did love his embarrassing family. “Thank you! Today, I'm an official man, one you will be proud of!”

Al laughed, arching his back. “He speaks as if we are not proud of him already!”

“We are proud of you, my son.” Scheherazade smiled a little sadly, still amazed that her baby had grown up so fast. “Every day, we are grateful to have you in our lives. We weren't whole until we had you. You will always be our pride and joy for the rest of our lives.”

Mickey knew they meant well, but the words didn't melt his heart as much as they did when he was a child. How could you be proud of someone who had accomplished nothing? It was just the loving nonsense of a parent. He glanced between the two differing gifts. “So which one of these is the paintbrush that'll be used on the mural?”

“We'll get to that later.” Al stepped forth. “Before giving you what you want, first we get to spoil you. I have two magnificent gifts for you today. The first...” he knelt down and held out the box. Mickey curiously approached it, clicking open a silver latch, allowing him to lift the box's cover.

Mickey's eyes widened. “Whoa! Is this really...?”

“Your pleas have not fallen on deaf ears,” Al assured his son. “But if you truly wish to see more of the outside world, you must be protected. Starting today, you will be trained in the art of the blade, and this shall be your weapon.”

Inside the box was a beautifully crafted scimitar, with blue and red jewels adorning the hilt, and Mickey could see his reflection in the gleaming sword. He let out a whoop of joy and yanked the scimitar out, feeling its weight in his hands. “This is amazing!” Mickey squealed, waving his newest possession here and there, stabbing the air and fighting imaginary thieves. “An actual sword! Oh gosh, look at this thing! Ha ha ha, this is the best!” He was going to look so cool wielding this! No one would dare mess with him when they saw him with this gorgeous beauty in his hand! Mickey the great, Mickey the bold, Mickey the – Only then did Mickey think that official men didn't flail with swords as if they were toys.

Mickey's cheeks burned red, and he cleared his throat once more, trying with great difficult to pretend the last couple of seconds hadn't happened. He put a hand to his heart, and bowed deeply. “Thank you for this beautiful gift, and for the trust you've placed in me. I promise to take this very seriously.”

Al grinned from ear to ear, feeling victorious at the joy he'd given his son. He couldn't help but smirk at his wife. “See, I told you, he's going to like mine the best, my dazzling heart.”

“The day's not over yet, oh key to my lock,” Scheherazade quipped back at him.

Mickey wondered if for his next birthday he could request his parents stop their obnoxious flirting, but thankfully Al was moving on, standing up and addressing Mickey. “As for my second gift, this will also come with great responsibility. I don't want you taking this lightly, because let me tell you, it wasn't easy getting it in here and keeping it in one place.” As fate would have it, the gift wasn't being kept in one place. Everyone in the room heard the sound of shouting guards, yelling at something to come back, slow down, stop, heel, anything to get it to freeze. Al rubbed his temples. “Me and my big mouth.”

Mickey turned around just as the gift barreled past the doors and bowled him over, standing on his chest. For a brief second Mickey thought of using his new blade to protect himself, but just as quickly there came a familiar sensation – of licks and drool and “yeah yeah yeah!”.

“Pluto?!” Mickey yelped, sitting up and letting the pup roll off him. The dog was clearly cleaner, having gone through several baths, and a shiny red collar had been placed around its neck – but there was no doubt about it, this was the same loving scamp from the alleyways. “I don't believe it! What are you doing here? You're supposed to be out in the village!” He paused abruptly, nervously eyeing his parents. “...Not that I would know because I don't sneak out there, no sir.”

As Pete quickly ran to close the doors – and lock them, once he saw no one was paying attention – Al waved a hand to shoo away the matter. “Leave the fables to your mother. The guards have seen you with this mutt enough times to have him memorized from tail to toes.”

Mickey ducked his head sheepishly until he understood, his eyes bright with hope. “Wait, does this mean...? I-I can keep him, I really can?”

Al smiled, moving to affectionately ruffle the fur between Mickey's ears. “I believe an official man is more than capable of taking care of a dog.”

In that instant Mickey completely forgot about his sword, dropping it to the ground so he could hug his new pet. “This is the best day ever!” he cheered, swinging the giddily yapping pup back and forth. “Oh, we're gunna do everything I promised you, Pluto! We're gunna play fetch every day, and you'll get to eat lots of steaks, and sleep on a bunch of pillows, and we're gunna be together all the time, you and me!” Maybe official men didn't act like this, but for that brief moment Mickey didn't care. He couldn't possibly imagine being happier than he was now. “Thank you, Pa! Thank you thank you thank you thaaaank youuu!”

Al grinned at his wife. “I win.”

“There is no winning when it comes to birthdays.”

“But if there was, I would be winning.”

Scheherazade had to call Mickey's name three times before he finally looked up from scratching Pluto's belly and telling him what a good boy he was – and he was such a good boy! Yes he was! - and remind him that she existed. “My sweetest son, I also have gifts for you.”

“Oh. Right.” Mickey couldn't imagine anything topping Pluto, but he didn't want to be rude.

The Sultana knelt down and laid down the present, her face taking on a serious tone that surprised Mickey. “My son, I have both longed for and dreaded this day. There are things you need to know, that I need to say, and I'm not sure how to make you understand. I can only hope I'll have your forgiveness, when you realize why I have held back the truth all these years.” She dug her fingers into the wrapping – it was so thin and loose it only needed one hand to unravel it all. “And so, I reached out to a dear companion of mine, in the hopes that you would understand. I asked him for this gift, and for his presence...” A click of her tongue. “Although he is late on the latter count.”

Mickey glanced at Pluto, who merely shrugged, at Al, who was nodding solemnly, and then at Pete, who was far more interested in the windows. “Ma, what's going on?”

Once the gift was unwrapped, she laid it out flat. “This is my first gift.” After all that mysterious narration, the gift that held the weight of the world was...

… A carpet.

“Huh?” It was out before Mickey could control it. All that build-up for a rug? It wasn't ugly, he supposed – it matched his sword, with bright threads of blue and red, but this time it was in elaborate pattern of intricate flowers blossoming together. It was kind of girly – he liked it, but men didn't like girly things. It was also very small – weren't carpets supposed to roll on for ages and cover the entire floor? It looked only slightly bigger than Mickey was, which wasn't saying much. Pluto sniffed one of the four golden tassels, detecting an odd odor that none of the others could pick up.

At the window, the clouds were beginning to part, and the sun's rays began to shine into the room. Pete began to fish inside his pocket.

Mickey fumbled for more polite words. “It's, uh... it's really nice! Thanks, Ma!” He scrambled mentally to find more descriptive words. “It's... colorful!”

Scheherazade smiled, standing back up, and from the look on her face Mickey could tell she was about to weave another story. “This is no ordinary carpet, my son.”

But there would be no explanation or epic tale to be told. The moment Pete held out the enchanted orb and allowed the sunlight to touch it, it spat out a gigantic massive black hole that stood as tall and wide as the palace doors. It made a horrific roaring noise, and all the warmth in the room dropped into freezing cold. The family members yelled in surprise, having only enough time to do that before the hole began to spin around, making a hideous sucking sound as harsh winds began to force everything and everyone towards it - elegant tapestries from the walls, the discarded wrapping from the carpet, it even had enough force to swallow the Sultan's throne. Pete was forced to sit, overwhelmed by what he had unleashed. Mickey's mouth was open but no words came out. What was he looking at? What was happening? He was struck numb by the sheer impossibility of what was happening, and part of him wanted to shut his eyes and wake up, because this couldn't be reality. Magic wasn't real, yet what else could you call this awful thing that made no earthly sense?

Sultan Al grabbed his wife, Pluto sunk his teeth into Mickey's pant leg to hold on, and Mickey desperately reached for his mother as all of them began to slide towards the hole. “Ma! Pa!” Mickey cried out, confusion and fear taking over all rational thought. The ravenous hole's roar was so loud Mickey was afraid his parents couldn't hear him, and now it was becoming so strong the windows began to crack before shattering. It was swallowing up the thrones, curtains, and all the decorative vases and paintings lining the walls. Within seconds, it would swallow up the Sultan and those he loved.

Scheherazade looked around wildly, and then pushed Mickey on his shoulders. “Get on the carpet!”

“What? What are you talking about?!”

There was no time to explain things. She reached down to pick up the boy and his dog, fighting as hard as she could against the hole's pull on her, and threw them towards the carpet, which had been mere seconds away from being sucked up as well. Mickey barely registered what happened as they smacked onto the fabric – and then he was up, he and Pluto were up, the carpet was up – the carpet was floating! It then shot into the air, which allowed Mickey to see Pete running for the doors, leaving them to their fate. Mickey held on for dear life, and Pluto held onto him. Mickey yelled for his mother and father who couldn't resist the hole's gravitational pull anymore, their bodies being yanked into the unknown darkness. First went their legs, then went their hips, their stomachs...

“MA! PA!” He reached for them even though he was so far away, a part of him still in serous disbelief that this could be happening at all. Not his beloved family, not his amazing family, they could do anything, and now they were being pulled away by something that had no right to exist. It couldn't be happening, but it was happening, and Mickey had never felt so utterly pathetic and useless in all his life. What could he do? How do you fight something that made no sense? His fingers tore at the carpet, trying to make it move. “You – you – whatever you are, put me down! Let me save them! Ma! Pa!” But the carpet remained in the air, unwilling to budge. Frustrated beyond words, Mickey tried to jump off the carpet – but now the carpet did move in order to catch him, and he let out a yelp as he tumbled back onto the familiar colors. “Stop it! Let me go! MA! PA!” His voice became hoarse with screams – he'd take everything back, he'd keep the title of Son of Scheherazade forever, abandon his own name, if he could just keep his mother and father – it wasn't fair, wasn't fair, wasn't fair -

The Sultan and Sultana held each other, their eyes staying on their beloved son.

“Our son-”

“We will-”

And then they were gone, lost to whatever inky blackness lay behind the hole. Mickey cried out once more, tears rolling down his cheeks, and he shut his eyes. Maybe if he wished really hard, he'd wake up from this nightmare, and he'd take back what he said about his mother's stories and he'd let the mural stay up and he'd be a child forever, if it meant he could keep everything the way it was. The winds began to die down... and then reverse.

The hole now began to spin counterclockwise, and a massive shadowy claw emerged. It dragged the rest of its body out in the open – a hulking beast with rich red eyes, a broken heart symbol on its back, a zigzag yellow mouth, and mismatching colors of purple and gold coating its rough body. Mickey had never seen such a creature before, and only then did the carpet begin to descend – which was now the exact opposite of what Mickey wanted. “Now you listen to me!”

The beast moved its dark eyes toward the sound, and swiped its massive paw at the mouse, knocking him off the carpet. Mickey grunted as he hit the floor, and then rolled quickly to avoid a second swipe. When he managed to get his footing, he could see the carpet still flying, this time only with Pluto. “Fine! Whatever you are, protect my dog, or I'm gunna pull out every single loose thread you have!” The beast began to run towards him, and Mickey ran as fast as he could before remembering his father's other present. The scimitar could be of help – if Mickey had any idea how to use it. He pulled it into his hands and waved it back and forth, struggling to block off every swipe from the monster. That one part of his brain continued to insist this couldn't be real – and the rest of his brain finally told it to SHUT UP, because this thing was certainly real enough to kill him! He wasn't imagining the painful claw marks on his arm or the snarling in his ears. This was happening, and no amount of wishing otherwise was going to stop it – which was very unfortunate because Mickey had no idea how to stop it any other way.

Then he heard a great “thud” - a second beast had walked out of the portal, and then a third, each one different in size and form but carrying the same colors and symbol on their back. Mickey's eyes flew around for any way to escape this danger, and he saw Pete reentering the room, this time with a handful of guards.

“These creatures took the lives of our beloved Sultan and family!” Pete announced, his own sword drawn. “But fear not! I will not allow them to harm anyone else!” He then darted into the room, stabbing the second beast in the leg – where the broken-heart symbol had been – and it jerked, freezing in place before dissolving into ash. The guards gasped with astonishment, and Pete soaked in the praise. “Today, I will lead you to victory! All for the sake of our fallen rulers!”

“The Son of Scheherazade!” one guard pointed out, trying to signal Pete that someone was still in danger.

“Yes, yes, sad to lose him too.” Pete rolled his hand, trying to move things along.

“No, the Son of Scheherazade is right there, and right in danger!”

“Huh?” Pete turned his head, and saw exactly the guard had meant. Mickey was trying to use a toppled table as a fort and failing. As Pete watched the beast shred it in two, his jaw dropped. “What the – what's he still doing here?!” He then drew a breath. “I mean... oh! How... lucky! He's still around... somehow... But I'm still the hero! Now if everyone could stop interrupting so I can finish these evil beasts...” He fished again for the enchanted orb – and again – and again – the pocket was not infinite yet he continued to search, the confident expression he was wearing now jerking into frantic fury. “C'mon, you lousy little...” It couldn't have just grown legs and walked away! Pete had it on him when he first used it to get rid of the rulers, he held the orb out into the sun, it spat out the hole, the force of it knocking him on his butt, and - and then understood that when he first fell, he had dropped it, and he had no idea where it rolled off. “Ah, crud.” The longer he delayed destroying the enchantment, the more monsters would come. He planned to get rid of one or two – now there were seven, eight, nine... “... This is also not good.”

While Pete quietly began to panic, the guards rallied, “Protect the Son of Scheherazade!”, storming into the room with their blades drawn. Yet try as they might, the monsters smashed them aside, destroying the room and now having several targets to choose from. Even more beasts continued to spill from the portal, growing in number with each passing minute. If this kept up, the monsters would flood the palace, and invade the kingdom.

Mickey was making another run, trying to lend his help towards the guards. Even though he understood he couldn't possibly fight these monsters, no amount of logic or wisdom would prevent him from helping someone in need. But even if he did save one guard, what would happen next? They'd be in danger within the next minute. Mickey's heart beat with fear, cold sweat dripping from his fur. Is this where he was going to die? His guards, Pluto, he was even concerned for Pete – would all their lives be forfeit by forces they didn't understand? Would he die with no accomplishments to his name, a life that hadn't actually been lived? Was fate truly going to be so cruel?

Mickey tried to turn and stab at the same time, he lost his footing and fell onto his back, the sword sliding across the floor. The first beast pounced on him, Mickey felt his heart stop, his mind now so overwhelmed it shut down, refusing to work , refusing to acknowledge anything but incoming death, and he covered his head with his arms as if that would do any good – the monster raised its paw, ready to deal the final blow...

But instead was given one, as a long sword struck through its back – through the same symbol- and stuck out its belly. As Mickey stared it evaporated into ashes, and his savior slowly held up his blade, blowing off the dust. “Well then...” A country voice clicked its tongue. “Either this is the wildest birthday party I done ever got invited to, or I think you got some uninvited guests!”

There stood a lanky, tall, black-furred dog with long floppy ears and buck teeth as big as his innocent eyes. He was skinny as a pole, his clothes looking ready to fall off if he sneezed hard enough. He wore a giant puffy orange top, and his green pants sagged so much one could almost miss his orange and green stockings. He clicked his black shoes together, and scratched his head, nudging the green bandanna with orange spots that was wrapped around his skull. The color scheme was familiar to Mickey, as if he'd seen it a million times somewhere else, but the man himself was a stranger. He shrugged, and then offered a hand to Mickey, smiling pleasantly. “Up and at 'em!”

Mickey took the hand, but he shook as he spoke, still very much aware of the danger they were in. “Who are... How did you... What is...”

“Name's Goofy,” the man chirped, as chipper as if they were in paradise instead of pandemonium, “Just arrived, and I got as much of an idea about what's goin' on as you do.” Once Mickey was on his feet, Goofy let go to survey the damage being done. The guards had put up a valiant effort but they were all knocked over left and right. It was all they could do to keep from being ripped apart, using whatever weaponry they had left to put some distance between themselves and the monsters. Pete himself was heroically hiding behind a now beheaded statue of the Sultan. “Looks like the weak spot is them funny symbols. I heard of wearin' your heart on your sleeve before, but on your back? That's a new one. We might need a little bit of help.”

“The other guards won't be able to do a thing!” Mickey protested. “Look around, the ones we have don't stand a chance!” The only one who was successfully dodging the beasts was the carpet, flying high enough in the air that it could avoid most swipes and leaps – until the monsters began to pile on top of each other. Pluto snarled, trying to bite at any that came close enough.

Goofy continued to smile. “I'm sure they're doin' their best, but I kinda meant more a different sort of help.” He then stuck two fingers into his mouth, and whistled so high that even Pluto winced. He then counted to five, and that's when ten bullets shot through the throne doors – enough to make them fall over.

“WEEEEE ARE THE TWO CABALLEROOOOS!” The man behind the assault was a red rooster, singing at the top of his lungs as his silver guns smoked. His wicker sombrero was twice as big as his head, and his brown belt appeared to wrap around him in seven different ways with endless bullets of differing variety. He then frowned, and cocked his head. “No, no, that still doesn't sound right.” He then saluted, accidentally firing off one of his guns as he did so – Pete's hat now had a nice little hole and he had a nice little heart attack. “¡Mi capitán! At your service!”

Goofy waved at him. “Hurry on up, Panchito! Aim for the hearts, and find out how these things are gettin' in!”

“As you command! WE HAAAAVE THE STARS TO GUIIIDE US!” The eager bird jumped in the air, firing off several rounds with each joyful jump he made. Each shot hit the target, the heart-broken symbol, causing monsters to fall apart left and right. All the while he continued to come up with sillier and sillier lyrics – any guard that wasn't trying to fend for their own life stopped to stare, deeply grateful and deeply confused at the help that just arrived.

Mickey could barely comprehend what was happening in his own home. “Why is he singing while he's gunslinging?”

… Wait. Why did that sound familiar...?

But the rooster hadn't been alone. “I had so looked forward to seeing the legendary beauty, Scheherazade!” Now at the entrance was a green parrot, decked in pale fancy attire, the brim of his small hat tipped down. He puffed on a dying cigar, and he leaned on his black umbrella, lamenting his woes. “How can I go on? I will never know love again!” In seconds he noticed some of the fighting guards were female. “...What do you know, there it is! Eeeeeiiiii lindo, como você está?” He picked up his umbrella, and stuck his lit cigar on the top – within seconds, his entire umbrella was on fire, and with every swing of his arm it sent a flurry of flames towards his foes. “Out of the way, I have a date!” Pete dared to peek out from behind his hiding place – who were these weirdos and why were they arriving at the knick of time?

Goofy shrugged helplessly at the parrot's antics. “Sometimes I think that José does more charm than harm.”

Mickey balked – that was familiar too!

The last to arrive came as a duo, a man and a woman, exasperated and exhausted. “Captain!” the lady cow shouted, her purple top soaked with sweat, a cowbell dangling around her neck, and her short leggings ready to fall down. “Why did you run off ahead of us again? We told you to cut that out! It's not a dynamic entrance if we go one at a time, now it just looks silly!”

“If he didn't listen to you before, what makes you think he's gunna do it now?” the male horse grumbled, adjusting his red bandanna so it would stop falling in front of his eyes. His long brown slacks almost passed his feet, and his blue shirt was ripped in three different places. “And great, we got monsters. I'd kill for a week, a single week, without seeing or hearing the word 'monsters'!”

“Oh, all you ever do is complain!”
“You were just complaining five seconds ago!”
“I wasn't complaining, I was giving a helpful suggestion!”
“If that's helpful, I'd hate to see harmful!”

As they argued with each other, a monster from each side jumped at them – but the horse launched one powerful fist, and the cow served up a hearty good kick, sending their attacks flying... and then they went back to arguing, the light glinting off the wedding bands on their fingers, a true killer couple.

Killer couple – yes, Mickey knew that too! Mickey stepped back as he surveyed what was really happening around him – these nutty strangers who were taking down all the beasts with ease, with bullets and fire and fists and kicks, singing and dancing and arguing, like they had done in the stories he'd heard so many times throughout his life. The monstrous numbers began to dwindle, but Mickey couldn't count – Goofy had suddenly lifted him before another beast could tackle him down. “If we could find out where that darn black hole came from...” Goofy tucked Mickey under one arm, and began to use his sword with the other. “In my experience,” he continued, slicing through each attacker and dodging every blow with precise footwork, “Those kinda things come from a source,” With every jump he flew, and during one fight, he tossed Mickey up, stabbed a beast to kill it, and then caught Mickey as he came down, “So if we find it, we're done!” It was all very heroic, dashing, and...impossible.

He couldn't be real. This couldn't be true. Mickey couldn't believe it, not even with all the signs in front of his face. It didn't make any sense. So he tried to shove away what he couldn't conceive, and stuck to what was happening right that second. Where the black hole came from – some kind of extra source – an addition to the room that hadn't been there before – something they couldn't see at their angle and height - “Pluto!” Mickey shouted over Goofy's shoulder. “Fetch, boy, fetch!”

Upon hearing the command, Pluto yipped and jumped from the carpet, bouncing on the floor and running around, trying to find something that had been dropped. He ducked and weaved around the bigger beasts until he found a ball! Ball good, ball fetch, ball give! He grabbed it with his teeth – it was cold and heavy, but Pluto could never give up when his master asked him anything. He then ran as fast as his four legs would take him towards his friend, and Mickey hopped out of Goofy's arms. “Give, Pluto, give!”

Pluto was more than happy to spit out the disgusting toy, and Goofy held his sword with two hands, slamming it down into the orb. The orb shattered instantly, breaking down into colorless glass, and with it, all the beasts fell apart and vanished, leaving dust and ash behind, with the portal itself dying last, swirling around and shrinking until it vanished completely. Mickey slowly lifted his head to look at the man who had dealt the death blow, who was using his bandanna to wipe sweat off his brow.

Mickey swallowed, unable to fathom the words he was going to ask. “Are you... Are you really...” The legendary hero, the idol Mickey worshiped, the most famous fictional being in all of Sultana Scheherazade's tales, “Are you... Sinbad the Sailor?”

Goofy blinked twice as he put his sword back in its scabbard and began to tie his bandanna back on. “Huh? Oh, well, right, that's my birth name. Without the sailor part, a'course. I'd say I'm more of a pirate. But everyone calls me Goofy! Well, not everyone, but my friends do! And friends count for more than everyone, don't they? So think of me as Sinbad and Goofy! But more Goofy than Sinbad. But don't tell my mama that, she done named me after all, so to her, I'm more Sinbad than Goofy. But she's not here now, so I guess it's okay to just say Goofy! Goofy the Pirate!”

Mickey's mind blanked. His hero was not only real, but he was also a complete goofball. “Oh. Kay.” It was all he could utter. He needed time to process everything that happened and he had no idea how long that time would be. He had a feeling he wouldn't get it.

Goofy offered a hand to shake. “And who might you be?”

Mickey was still so bewildered that he didn't think before answering. “The Son of Scheherazade – No! I'm Mickey, I'm Prince Mickey!”

Now that got the crew's attention. “The Son of Scheherazade!” all four voices shouted at once, and in seconds Mickey lost all his personal space.

Panchito was rapidly shaking Mickey's right hand and speaking so fast the prince could barely make out a word. “So this is the famous son! This is an honor, a true honor, a real treat! I am Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero González The Third, but I insist you call me Panchito, for now we are more than friends! In the heat of battle, we are brothers! ¡Hermano a hermano!”

José was shaking Mickey's left hand and while he was going slower and calmer, it was just a different brand of lunacy. “José Carioca am I, and the honor is given to us all! I can't wait to hear all the stories you've cooked up in that little head of yours. Personally I favor stories of love and romance, but look who I'm talking to! I bet you've got enough girlfriends to line around the world twice! By the way, those lady guards, they are single, yes?”

“Awww, ain't he just the cutest little boy you ever done seen?” the cow was cooing, hands to her cheeks. “And look how small he is, he's travel-sized! Don't you just want to eat him up? I have to pinch those cheeks!”

“Clarabelle!” The horse tugged on Clarabelle's long black braid. “You don't pinch the cheeks of a prince! You gotta bow and curtsy! Ain't got no matters, you don't, ain't a single one!” He then cleared his throat and did a sweeping bow so low he nearly fell over. “Greetings, your highness! I am Horace Horsecollar, and this here is my wife, Clarabelle.”

Mickey could barely keep up with this flood, and when he found some control of his body he yanked his hands back. “H-Hold on a second!” He wanted to ask how they got here, why they were here, and about his mother, but what came out instead was, “Do you really have a magical flying ship?”

“Yup!” Goofy answered. “It rides on the wind, and as long as we know where we're going, it never has to stop!”

“D-did you really fight the living dead?”

“An oxymoron, but yes,” Horace sighed, as that wasn't a fond memory. “Took forever to get the smell out of our clothes.”

“Did you really-”

“WHO ARE YOU WEIRDOS AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” Pete roared, having finally gotten over his shock. He stormed over, pushing the group away from Mickey, his teeth smashing together as he barked. “You... you guys are trespassing!”

“Guests can't be trespassers,” Goofy calmly replied. “Scheherazade invited me and my crew here to celebrate her son's birthday!”

Pete slowly pointed at Goofy, wondering how he was going to explain things to his shadowy superior. “You... you are the special guest she was going on about? That can't be right! Sinbad's made-up, he's just a story, he ain't real!”

Goofy blinked, and then poked his cheeks before nodding affirmatively. “I feel pretty real to me!”

Mickey tried to work his mouth and couldn't, all the questions in his brain fighting to see who would go next. This was what his mother was trying to admit? This was what she was trying to say before she - she – she was gone! “My parents!” Mickey exclaimed, remembering what had happened to his family. “They're gone! I... I don't know what happened, but they're gone!” He then turned to Pete, trying to get any forgotten details in. “You saw it too, didn't you? What happened to them?”

The guards that had begun picking themselves up began to approach the ragtag group, having their own questions. “Councilor, didn't you say the creatures took their lives?”

“Uhhh.”

“No they didn't!” Mickey ran to where the black hole once stood. “They got sucked into this... this... big dark thing! It was the same thing that popped out all those monsters! Pete, you saw it for yourself! They're still alive!”

“Uhhh.” Pete drew this one out longer, sweat rolling down his fur. “Right! Of course. Guess I just... got the details... jumbled up, because of how scary it was!”

“We have to find them!” Mickey turned back around, both his dog and now his carpet laying obediently at his feet. “I don't know where they are, but there was a reason it took them away instead of letting the monsters maul them!”

Goofy snapped his fingers, impressed. “That's smart thinkin', kiddo! Your parents must be held somewhere!” With that settled, he turned to his crew, hands on his hips. “All right, we've got a new adventure ahead of us! Let's head back to the ship and start planning!”

“Another adventure already?” Clarabelle groaned. “I thought we'd finally have a chance to kick back and relax...” But that was all the argument she put up, as she and the crew began to head for the demolished doors.

“W-wait!” Mickey shouted, running up and grabbing Goofy by the hand. “You have to let me come with you! I can't just stay here knowing my parents are in danger!”

Goofy tilted his head, giving this some thought. “But what about your kingdom? Without the Sultan and Sultana, someone's gotta rule in their place.”

Mickey fumbled for an idea, and then turned to gesture at Pete. “You! Councilor! I'm officially putting you in charge until Ma and Pa are home!”

Pete opened his mouth, and then closed it. Had luck finally decided to grace him? “Uh-I-of course!” He grinned, rubbing his hands together. “That's a great idea! You should go and look for your parents.” And hopefully die along the way. “I'll stay here and keep the throne warm until you get back. Take the kid, I'm sure he's good for something!”

“I dunno.” Horace frowned, looking Mickey up and down. “What can you bring to the table?”

“I...” Mickey trailed off. What could he do that the others couldn't? He barely knew how to fight, he couldn't plan, and he had no clues about the outside world. Harsh reality told Mickey that he'd be nothing more than a burden. “I don't... I can't...”

“Didn't think so.” Horace clicked his tongue, and then gently pushed his wife along. “We'd better start charting our next location on the map, get new supplies and all.”

Mickey stared as the crew began to resume their walk, treating this next adventure like it was merely another day in their life. Goofy kept glancing back, as if waiting for something. Mickey's hands clenched up into fists. All his life, he'd never felt something like this burning in his chest. It built, and strengthened, and for once Mickey refused to merely sit there licking his wounds. He wouldn't sit back in the shadows anymore. This was his life, and he was going to live it.

“I AM PRINCE MICKEY, SON OF SCHEHERAZADE!” he suddenly shouted as hard as he could, making everyone around him stop in place. “I DEMAND TO BE TAKEN ABOARD THIS INSTANT!” He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten this angry, this determined, and he refused to back down. He'd sneak aboard if he had to, he'd threaten if he had to – his parents were in unspeakable danger, and he was not going to be cast aside, not this time!

That's when Goofy slapped him on the shoulder. “There we go! That's all we needed to hear!”

Mickey's anger was snuffed out like a candle hitting the water. “What?”

“We don't take on anyone who doesn't have spirit!” Goofy slapped him again, moving Mickey along. “Now you can join us! Welcome to the crew!”

“A son's love for his family...” Panchito looked ready to weep. “Is there anything more touching?”

José offered Panchito a tissue. “A quest to save a beautiful woman! I think I could die happy. But I'd prefer not to die.”

“Who knows, this might come in handy!” Clarabelle approached the rug that now lay still on the floor and rolled it up.

“Sorry about the little jab,” Horace gave a thumbs up. “But it's like the Captain says – you wanna sail, you gotta have spirit!”

Mickey looked from one happy face to another, momentarily astonished that they all were so happy to have him along – until he realized it was only because he was the son of Scheherazade. Of course, that's how it always was. “I guess... you all must know my Ma pretty well, huh?”

“Nope,” said Panchito.

“Never met her,” said José .

“Same here,” said Clarabelle.

“Ditto,” said Horace.

“Just met her the once,” Goofy finished, shrugging. “And that was a real long time ago. Come to think of it, I dunno how she knew where I was when she sent that invitation, since I'm always sailing the skies.”

Mickey blinked slowly. Something wasn't adding up. “Wait...if she never met you guys, how did she know about all your adventures, and who you are? How did she know where Goofy would be? And why did she let us all think you were all made-up stories?”

Silence fell over the crowd, not having a single answer to any of his questions. The only thing Mickey could conclude was that whatever his mother had been about to confess, it wasn't just about her stories. Did it have something to do with why and how she and his father were snatched away?

Goofy huffed, and then clapped his hands. “Welp! We're not gunna find out by just standing here! We gotta head to the ship and set out for supplies before we hit the road! Or the sand. Or the clouds. Panchito, get out all of our maps!”

Panchito saluted. “You can always count on Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero González The Third! YOU'LL FIND ME BENEATH MY SOMBREROOOOO!” He shot off like a bullet, his songs bouncing with every hot step he took.

“José, set a course for the city of Mawarid!”

José tipped his hat. “I won't let a single pretty face slow me down.” he twirled his umbrella, which was as perfectly normal as before, and set off with a hum.

“Clarabelle, Horace, take stock of our inventory!”

Clarabelle heaved the rolled-up rug onto her shoulder. “That reminds me, my birthday is coming up! You all better get me something nice!”

“Your birthday isn't for another eight months!” Horace snapped, and another argument brewed as they walked, each step a new debate.

Goofy stuck his hands into his pockets and walked on, each step slow and careful so he wouldn't trip. “Mind if I put you in charge of the crow's nest for the day, Mickey?”

Mickey stopped, and looked at Goofy. “What... what did you call me?”

Goofy glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow. “Mickey. That's your name, ain't it?”

Today had been terrible – Mickey's parents were prisoners somewhere, he had to leave his beloved home, and past the palace was a world full of unknown dangers and consequences. On top of all that, his mother, his loving and wise mother, had been keeping secrets from him and the kingdom.

Yet despite all that, Mickey began to smile. Yes, that was his name. “Y-Yeah., He stammered, the smile threatening to cover his whole face. “Yeah! That's my name! Mickey!” His breath came quicker, exhilaration running through his body. Here was his chance to earn his name, to earn his own story and legend. He turned back to take one last look at his people – his guards were bowing low, quietly wishing him luck on the journey, and Pete kept grinning, looking fairly pleased at how events were turning out. Pluto was wagging his tail, Mickey's scimitar still in its mouth.

Mickey gently took the weapon from the dog, twirling it around once. He didn't know if he was ready for such an epic task before him, but he was too excited to care.

A journey to a dangerous place, madcap characters, mystery around every corner – it had every making of one of his mother's stories. But now this was his story.

“This is a new chapter – let's get started!”

Chapter Text

It wasn't long before the entire kingdom learned that their benevolent rulers had vanished, and that their valiant prince would take on an epic quest to save them. Many offered their prayers to the gods for the family's safe return, yet some couldn't help but think how devastated the poor boy must be. Not only were his parents gone, but he would have to leave his home for the first time in his life. Surely, they imagined, he was holed up in his new room in tears.

“OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOOOSH!”

Simply put, Mickey wasn't in the mood for crying. He had arrived where Goofy's ship was docked, if one could say it had – outside of the castle, the crew had tied the anchor around one of the towers and there it floated, its sails flapping in the wind. It was as big as the palace itself, its shadow reaching out over the marketplace and causing many customers to stop, struggle to understand what they were seeing, and then faint. The figurehead was far larger than what most ships had – a faceless woman had her fingers locked in prayer, and her flowing hair lined the sides of the ship, each strand of wooden hair a different color. Each sail appeared to have been painted by the various crew members – the largest was a skull and crossbones with buck teeth, no doubt to resemble the captain.

“It's real!” Mickey was having a mild heart attack of sheer joy. “It's really real! The flying ship! The ship that defies the world! Sinbad the Sailor's ship!”

“Goofy the Pirate,” Goofy corrected him, and he had a feeling he'd have to do that several times while Mickey was with him. He didn't mind.

“How do you board it, if it can't come any closer to the ground?” Mickey asks, his little body trembling with excitement.

José lightly tugged on the anchor's rope with his umbrella. “All you have to do is climb and-” Mickey jumped onto the rope and frantically began to climb upwards. “...Excitable fellow, huh?”

“I like him!” Panchito declared, despite knowing Mickey for less than an hour. The rest of the crew began to climb up the rope with Goofy going last, untying the line. He whistled a merry tune as he returned to the ship, not entirely surprised to see Mickey running back and forth like a maniac.

“Oh my gosh, this is where you battled the dreaded ice yetis of the tundra!” Mickey declared as he found an area of the ship with frozen cracks forever left in the wood.

“Sure is,” Goofy said, heading for the wheel.

“And this is where you climbed to escape the man-eating praying mantis from the volcano islands!” Mickey climbed a foot up the mast, wanting to feel the scratches the bugs had left behind.

“Is this going to be an all-day thing?” Horace had to ask, and Clarabelle nudged him with her elbow.

“And this is where you declared yourself the supreme sailor of all the high seas and higher skies!” Mickey made this similar declaration now standing atop the steering wheel, and Goofy had to calmly pick him up and put him aside. It gave Mickey enough time to breathe and focus on the situation at hand. “...So you have no idea why my Ma said you're a sailor instead of a pirate?”

“I can't say I know her exact reasons,” Goofy offered as the group began to split up, doing their various assigned tasks. “But maybe she didn't want her boy idolizing a pirate. Might set a bad image.” The ship wasn't moving, and Goofy made no motion to steer the wheel. Instead he simply leaned against it, waiting.

Mickey supposed Goofy had a point – but then his eyes widened. “But that means...you're all a bunch of thieves! You steal from people, that makes you bad guys! … Doesn't it?”

Goofy waved his hand side-to-side. “'Thieves' is a dirty word.”

“Accurate, but dirty,” Horace quipped from a nearby room.

“We never steal from folks who can't afford it,” Goofy continued. “We only go after the really rich, those who ain't really affected by the end of the day. And it's not like we steal from every single place we go to. Otherwise, we wouldn't be able to travel, we'd be hunted down no matter where we went!”

“I... Well... hm.” Mickey scratched his head. This was a new kind of ethics, but then again, the butcher never went out of business any time Pluto snatched an extra sausage or two. But surely his mother wouldn't want Mickey to meet a bunch of bad guys – yet she'd clearly been hiding some pretty big secrets from him. All of this back and forth was making his head hurt. Right now he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the real story of how a thieving pirate met his heroic mother, if any of those descriptions were accurate. “I'm really confused.”

“If it helps, I'm confused most of the time!” Goofy said with such a big smile that it was hard not to be comforted. “No one starts out understanding everything. But whatever your mama was planning, she wanted you to be safe and sound no matter what. That's why she had me get that flying carpet.”

Mickey looked back up at his new friend with raised eyebrows. “How does that work, anyway? How can a carpet fly?”

“The long answer is that a long time ago during one of my millions of adventures, I met a magical weaver and saved his son from execution at the hands of a tyrannical emperor. Since then, he's owed me a favor. He puts part of his soul into everything he weaves, which gives the carpet the ability to fly. There was supposed to be a proper ceremony for it and everything so it would obey you, but since that got skipped, I think it just obeys itself.”

All right, now Mickey was really really confused. “What was the short answer?”

“It's magic.”

“Oh.” Hours ago Mickey was convinced magic didn't exist, and now apparently there was a whole reality where magic was just given an obvious shrug, like pointing out that wheels rolled because they were round. He was about to sit down and try to understand what a magic carpet ceremony even was, when the word “wheel” stuck in his head, as in the one Goofy wasn't moving. He looked at it, then to Goofy, back to the wheel, then back to Goofy. “...Well?”

“Well what?”

“When are you going to start sailing?”

“Can't sail without a map.”

“Yeah, but...” Mickey struggled to gesture towards the outside of the ship. “We can at least get moving! Who knows how long my parents are going to be safe, if they're safe at all? We need to start the journey!”

“Can't sail without a map,” Goofy said again.

Mickey's limit for that day's utter nonsense was being met. “Look, am I going to have to start ordering you around again?! I know you do this a million times every week, but my parents aren't just some story! They need my help! The kingdom needs them to rule! Pete might be able to handle it for a couple of days, but he's got some bad ideas about how things should be run. We have to hurry!”

“Can't sail without-”

“WHY NOT?!” Mickey had grabbed fistfuls of Goofy's shirt and began vigorously shaking him back and forth. “MOVE THIS SHIP, MAP OR NO MAP!”

“I have the map!” Panchito cheerfully shouted, walking into the scene and taking no mind that their newest addition looked ready to strangle the captain. “Now we can get going towards Mawarid!” He then rolled out the thin yellowing map onto the ship's wheel – the map and the wheel began to glow a glittering yellow, and all of the sails suddenly billowed, expanding and pushing forward. The ship began to move, despite the wind having died down moments ago.

Mickey blinked slowly before glancing at Goofy. “...The ship literally can't move without a map?”

“It's what I said.”

“... And the short answer why is...?”

“Magic.”

It began to dawn on Mickey that his epic journey wasn't going to be as much fun as he had been imagining moments earlier. He had wanted to start his eighteenth year of life with logic and straight-forward-thinking, and now he was aboard a flying ship with a crew of loonies. Now that he thought about it further, he hadn't packed anything either – not even his mother's lamp to read by. Thinking about his mother brought back all those earlier problems and a headache began to form. “I have no idea what I'm doing,” he said to no one.

“Let me see if I can help, amigo.” Panchito slapped his arm around Mickey's shoulders. “The ship is magic, but still sails as slow as one on water. So it will take us a day or two to get to Mawarid!”

“Mawarid...” Mickey felt his cheeks go red in humiliation. A city that close and Mickey knew nothing about it. Maybe he really was going to be a burden to the crew after all. “Why are we going there?”

“To stock up on supplies,” Goofy answered – now his hands were on the wheel, just to make sure any winds wouldn't set them off course. “We dunno how long this journey will take, plus we got a new crew member to take care of. Then we hit the kingdom of Taqs!”

“Specifically, we're going to rob it,” Panchito pointed out. “To make up for all the money we use in Mawarid.”

“After that, we'll head for the little town of Maelumat. I know a lady there that might be able to give us some clues where to look for your parents. When it comes to gossip around the world, she can't be beat,” Goofy said with a smile, remembering her fondly.

It sounded like a solid plan, and Mickey had to admit that for a bunch of weirdos, they were well-prepared weirdos. In a way, it did make sense – if they had a thousand and one adventures, they should have some idea of what they were doing. So where did Mickey fit in? What could he possibly do to help them? The depression that followed him throughout the kingdom began to creep back into his heart. Maybe he should've stayed behind to take care of the kingdom.

“So about tonight!” Panchito's vibrant voice cut through Mickey's self-loathing. “I know you probably want to keep it a secret, but I was wondering if I could get a hint about tonight's story?”

Mickey blinked three times in a row, trying to comprehend what was being asked of him. “Huh? Whaddya mean?”

“You're going to tell us some epic, amazing story, aren't you?” Panchito asked hopefully. “You are the Son of Scheherazade, after all! Surely you have her gift for captivating tales! We all can't wait to hear what you tell us later!”

“I, uh... I don't...” Mickey didn't want to give Panchito a reason to boot him off the ship, but Mickey had never been the creative sort. It might've been better to say that Mickey never bothered to see if he was. After all, when you had a famous storyteller for a mother, it wasn't as if you could ever top her tales. Thus, Mickey had never even made an attempt, thinking his own storytelling abilities were inferior right from the get-go. He was inferior. He shouldn't have come aboard, he shouldn't have tried to become something he wasn't, he-

“Say, Panchito,” Goofy interrupted. “That spare room we have above the kitchen, that ought to do for a sleeping space for Mickey here, huh?”

The rooster was successfully distracted. “A brilliant idea, mi capitán! I'll go make sure it's in tip-top shape!” He sped off like a bullet, doors slamming behind him.

Mickey rubbed one arm, unsure if he should thank Goofy, more unsure that Goofy did it on purpose. Goofy clicked his tongue. “You remember what I asked you to do when you said you wanted to join?”

“Huh?” Mickey raised his head and tried to remember. “Oh, um, the crow's nest?”

“Yup. Why don't you go up there and get started? Just needs a bit of touch up, is all.”

Mickey wasn't sure how to “touch up” a crow's nest, but by now he was far too embarrassed to ask. He didn't want to emphasize his worthlessness. “O-Okay,” he mumbled, and walked over to the intimidating mast. After taking a deep breath, he began to climb the small steps, trying to tell himself the view wouldn't be much different than the view from his room. When he reached the nest, it was indeed a little dirty, with mostly leftover food left behind and some messy rags sitting on the floor. The nest had a raised seat all around the pole, so you could lean back and watch the world pass you by.

The view wasn't like Mickey's bedroom at all.

Mickey gasped – the kingdom was further away, and he could see the vast desert that lay beyond the walls. It shone like gold dust in the sunlight, and he thought he could spy a group of bold travelers atop their furry camels. The sky was brilliantly blue, with light clouds shifting into funny faces as the ship sailed on. Mountains of stone lined the distance, casting their shadows over deep dunes. But what struck Mickey the most was the horizon and how far away it was – as if it was endless, infinite, that it could stretch on forever and no one would ever see where it began and finished. This was the world. It was so much bigger than the kingdom, so much bigger than what his mind could fathom.

Mickey gripped the edge of the nest. If the world was endless, so were the possibilities that lay ahead. Maybe out there, he'd find a special talent that only he could bring to the ship. Maybe he'd find a way to earn the praise and accolades heaped upon him, and be more than the son of Scheherazade. Maybe he could find someone who would want to be with him for him, and not for where and who he came from. Maybe none of those things would happen – but maybe was a powerful world. It gave him hope.

For a moment, Mickey wondered if that was the reason Goofy had sent him up there in the first place. It was difficult to say – was Goofy dumb, clever, or was it possible to be both at the same time? There were hundreds of questions to ask each member of this silly ship, but for now, Mickey decided they could wait. He wanted to watch the horizon and all the chances it could bring.

Down below, Goofy resumed humming. Not every moment of his life was filled with monsters and mayhem, and truth be told, it was these quiet moments that he treasured more than treasure.

“Oh, the world owes me a livin'...”

~*~

That night, Pete headed for his room, despite having full rights to the Sultan's room. He had been looking forward to the day where he could rest his heavy body onto all those pillows. Tonight, however, he doubted he would get much sleep. He grabbed the tallest scepter he could find from the Sultan's room before approaching his bedroom, gulping audibly as he glanced inside at the chest that was spewing black smoke. He was in trouble.

“Easy...” Pete inched into the room, slowly sliding out the scepter towards the chest. He had the jeweled top lightly poke the top, and slowly began to lift it. “Easy, easy, easy... Oookay, so, there was a teeny, tiny, itty bitty change to the plan...”

“I TOLD YOU TO CAPTURE ALL THREE OF THEM, YOU COLOSSAL FOOL!” The top of the chest slammed open, and a swirling torrent of shadows escaped, surrounding Pete in darkness. The shadows spun around and around, knocking over his bed and shattering his windows, the roar of the mysterious voice getting louder by the second. “MY PLAN ISN'T COMPLETE WITHOUT ALL THREE! WHERE IS THE BOY?!”

Pete swallowed down the urge to cry for his mommy, backing up as far as he could. “L-Look, how was I supposed to know the Sultana would have access to a flying carpet? I didn't even know they were a real thing until I saw one!” In hindsight, working for a magical evil being probably should have clued him in that there were a lot of things that didn't only exist in stories. “Can't the plan go on even with just those two? You've got the Sultan, just threaten him, and Scheherazade will do what you want!”

“DON'T SPEAK AS IF YOU KNOW BETTER THAN I!” The shadows slammed down onto the floor, sending an earthquake hard enough to make Pete fall onto his stomach. “The Sultan is more than willing to sacrifice his life it means helping his wife... but threatening the life of their child will be far more effective! WHERE! IS! THE! BOY!”

Pete managed to sit up on his knees, breathing slowly though his teeth. There was no way he could deliver this without further angering his master, so it would be best just to get it over with. “Well... you know that Sinbad guy Scheherazade has a thousand and one stories about? Turns out, he's real. And the boy went with him to rescue his parents. So he's long gone by now.” He then closed his eyes, waiting for further punishment. And waited. And waited. And...

Pete opened one eye. The shadows hadn't left, but they weren't actively trying to hurt him anymore either. Maybe the dark master was so in shock he couldn't do anything. Pete, never one to know when to take his luck and run, began to inch towards the chest. “Sir?” he asked, and got no response. “You know, I gotta say, you're handling this really well!” He then stuck his head over the shadowy chest. “I mean, if I were you, I would've showed no mercy, but I guess you-”

That was when a pair of ink-black hands thrust themselves out of the chest and snatched Pete by the shoulders. Pete screamed as he was suddenly yanked into the chest, and the lid slammed shut, with the shadows evaporating into mist.

In the morning, the servants were curious that Pete hadn't arrived for breakfast. When they entered his room, there was no trace of him, but the room had been trashed. As they panicked and tried to figure out who would rule over the kingdom, none of them noticed the locked chest tucked away in the corner.

~*~

It took two days to reach Mawarid, and during that time Mickey avoided the rest of the crew as much as possible. He wanted to know their past and their stories, how they all knew one another and learned their amazing abilities, but he feared that once he asked, they'd ask about him in turn – and he had nothing fantastic to boast of. It was an odd battle of his curiosity versus his self-loathing, and on the day they “landed” at the town, curiosity was starting to win. Goofy had gone down to tie the anchor to a sturdy building, and Clarabelle handed out lists of supplies to the crew.

“Everyone, stick to your list!” she announced while tapping her own paper with one finger. “Don't go overboard, and make sure to get everything on it! Return to the ship before sundown, and if all goes well, we should be ready to leave by mid-afternoon tomorrow.” She pointed to the birds. “Panchito, José, you're team one!”

The birds saluted. “Understood! I'll keep José from flirting too much!”
“We'll be back before Panchito can finish his next lyric!”

Clarabelle then gestured towards her husband. “Horace, I want you and Goofy to go with the son of Scheherazade! You'll be team two. Teach him the ropes!”

Mickey was insulted by one thing more than the other, and he raised his hand. “I know I never got out much, but even I know how to shop!”

“There's shopping,” Horace explained with finger guns, “And then there's bargain-hunting! I'll teach you how to sweet-talk the shopkeepers, and find the best deals for the best meals! When it comes being a cheapskate, no one can beat me.”

“Pluto and I will be team three,” Clarabelle finished, a thumb to her chest. “We'll guard the ship!” Mickey raised his hand again and Clarabelle answered the obvious question. “Yes, people will still try to attack a ship that's up in the air.” Mickey lowered his hand. “All right, you've got your assignments! Remember what I said – before sundown! Off you go!”

Mickey scratched Pluto's ear, wishing him well before tucking the list into his pants pocket and starting his climb downwards with the others. As they headed down, Mickey looked down at Horace, his curiosity winning one victory. “Say, uh, Horace? Mind if I ask you... how come you and Clarabelle are pirates with Goofy?”

“Oh, we're on our own epic quest, going back...” A pause for recollection. “Three years now? Three years sounds right. We're trying to find our martial-arts-master! See, when we were young, she and I both attended the best martial-arts dojo in the east. There lived a man who had the most powerful techniques in the whole wide world, and he was looking for apprentices to pass down his teachings. I learned all his hand-to-hand moves, and Clarabelle learned all his foot-to-foot moves.”

Mickey recalled the fight days ago, and yes, Horace had only fought with his fists, and Clarabelle had only used her legs. “...Wouldn't you be more powerful if you learned all the moves?”

“We were gunna, but our master disappeared.” Horace didn't seem terribly bothered by this, helping Mickey down once they reached the ground. “Since then, we've been trying to find him. We joined up with Goofy to better our chances.” Another pause, this time out of annoyance. “Well, I joined to better our chances of finding our master. Clarabelle wanted to better her chances of marrying Goofy.”

Mickey jumped, and now that they were below, he stared at Goofy for confirmation. Goofy merely shrugged, and the birds had long since left to do their own tasks. “But isn't she married to you, Horace?”

“She is now.” Horace started to walk, and the two followed. “But boy, it was hard winning her over! Stubborn as a mule, that one. But I never gave up! True love never lets you give up. Now our bond is stronger than ever, and nothing could ever tear the two of us apart!”

“... But you guys fight constantly.”

“We like fighting.” Horace grinned. “Ain't nobody that argues better than my Clarabelle! She's the only one who can match me when it comes to stubbornness! We'd never be able to put up with someone that couldn't handle us! Besides, love is different for everyone. Some people don't even recognize it when they feel it. But once you do, your life changes forever!”

Mickey almost gagged. One thing he didn't miss about his parent was the constant lovey-dovey affection between them, and he sincerely hoped it wouldn't be replicated on the ship. Oh, the key to his heart, oh, the wind in her sails, - ugh! “I'll just take your word on that. I'm not exactly looking for mushiness.”

Horace chuckled, smoothing out his list. “That might be for the best for now! Save the romance until after we find your parents.” He then read the list over, nodding once to himself. “First on the list, we're going to need two pounds of lemons.” Mickey began to wonder if he could make any additions to the list, like a lamp for his room, and he was about to ask when Horace spoke up once more. “Goofy, we should probably head right for the south market, they tend to have the best prices when it comes to-”

Goofy suddenly began running towards a gathered crowd up in the north.

Mickey blinked. “What's he doing?”

Horace groaned. “Nothing good, I promise you that.”

As the duo raced to join Goofy, they could see what everyone was facing – a hand-made stage had been constructed, five feet above the ground, and it was lined with fancy rugs and empty barrels. A tall rat in robes that were three sizes too long for him was standing there, shuffling a deck of purple cards. He smirked with gigantic teeth that went over his lips, and his snout was so large it cast its own shadow. His red and green cloth was made of the finest quality, Mickey could tell, and no doubt it had cost thousands. The rat then stopped shuffling, and held up a single card. “Is this your card?”

An old man at the front of the crowd frowned, shaking his bald head. “No, sir, it isn't.”

“Oh, what a shame,” the rat said with pretend melancholy, tossing his card over his shoulder. “Maybe it's somewhere else... I wish it was in your shoe!”

The old man squinted, then jerked – he lifted up his foot and pulled off his shoe. He reached inside and took out a card, and the crowd gasped. “This is my card!” Applause waved through the crowd, and Goofy clapped just as enthusiastically.

“Another marvel from Mortimer the Magnificent!” the rat declared for himself, taking a large bow before heading to one of the empty barrels. “Now, for my next trick...you can all see here, nothing inside, right?” He closed the barrel, and waved his hands. “... I wish...” He hesitated, eyes going back and forth, as if trying to decide. “I wish there was a...spotted...pink...monkey! Yeah, that'll do.” He then lifted the barrel's lid and reached inside – and he pulled out a spotted pink monkey, the little creature screeching in confusion. The audience roared with amazement, throwing small coins at the bottom of the stage.

“It's a magic show!” Goofy cheered, hopping up and down. “Can we stay and watch it, can we, can we, huh?”

Mickey balked. “A magic – Goofy, you fly on a magic ship! You've had a thousand and one magical adventures! How can some street tricks impress you?”

Goofy tilted his head, unable to comprehend, and Horace rubbed his temples. “Goofy, we don't have time for this! Clarabelle will have our heads if we're not back before sundown!”

“This probably isn't real magic anyway.” Mickey crossed his arms, watching Mortimer wishing to turn a carpet from silk to spiderwebs. “I bet it's all smoke and mirrors! If he had actual working magic like the ship, he wouldn't be wasting it on small coins! He could get himself whatever he wanted. Why would a real user of magic stick around in a small town?”

Horace raised his eyebrows. “That's awful clever of you, Mickey.”

“But it's fun!” Goofy insisted, eyes sticking to the stage, keeping his voice down so he wouldn't disturb the performance. “The best part about magic is the surprise, and surprises are what magic shows are all about!”

Mortimer drew himself up, backing away on the stage. “You know, I'm starting to think I don't have everyone's attention.” He grinned lasciviously, rubbing his fingers together. “So what's say we get a little eye candy to help me with the rest of the show?”

“I mean it, Goofy!” Mickey put his hands on his hips, not bothering to keep his own voice down. “We have to get supplies for the ship, and help save my parents! There is absolutely nothing that guy can do that would make me want to watch his show!”

“I wish...” Mortimer rolled his arms. “...for my beautiful assistant to appear!”

There was a burst of pink smoke on the stage right next to Mortimer, and a small flurry of glitter followed it, and various members of the audience “oohed” and “ahhed”. A small figure began to walk out of the smoke, and in that second, Mickey found something that made him want to watch the show.

“As you command, it has happened, my master!”

There in the dissipating pink smoke was a young woman with the most darling, beautiful blue eyes Mickey had not thought could ever exist. Her gorgeous dark fur was as dark as the softest night, and her smile illuminated her peachy cheeks. Her thin green dress left little to the imagination, similar to dancing girls Mickey had occasionally seen on the seedier streets of his kingdom. Golden rings lined up on her fingers, all of them attached to her dress so that when she waved, her dress would wave with her. Everything about her was tiny and delicate, like one wrong touch would soil her completely. Even her voice was perfection, a melodious harmony that sang sweeter than nightingales with every word. “Can we give my master another hand for his amazing performance?”

In this moment Mickey forgot about his anger, his parents, and essentially everything that existed that was not this gorgeous girl with long lashes and petite hands. It was like magic – he would have never believed someone like this could exist unless he saw it for himself. He stared and stared and stared, afraid that if he blinked she'd suddenly vanish and she'd have been nothing more than an elaborate fantasy. He didn't know what to do with himself or this sudden rush of inexplicable joy dancing throughout his head.

Unbeknownst to him, the world was in fact still moving on regardless of how he felt. Horace had even continued talking while the girl was asking people to clap. “...So it's just like the kid said, we don't have a moment to lose. Let's go!”

“We can't go!” Mickey suddenly sputtered, jerking his head to flail at a startled Horace. “We-we have to stay! We should stay!”

Thrown off, Horace, scratched his head. “What? Seconds ago you were insisting we had to get going! Why do you wanna stay all of a sudden?”

“This, uh... it could, you know...” Mickey kept looking back to the girl, not wanting to miss a second of her movements. “Might be vital to... my parents, or something...” He wasn't even able to make coherent sentence structure at this point and he did not care.

Horace, he who considered himself the most sane person aboard the ship, glanced at Minnie, then at Mickey's ever reddening face. “...Fine time for you to start looking for mushiness.”

“What? No! No, I'm not!” Mickey insisted and oh goodness she was talking and even her voice was cute and she was so so so so cute and he was losing the feeling in his knees. This was normal! This was perfectly normal! Sure it was! Just because he wanted to smell her hair and hold her hands and call her the key to his lock didn't mean -

… The key to his – oh dang it!

Chapter Text

Romantic love was an abstract concept to young Prince Mickey. It was the sort of thing that he found difficult to believe existed because he didn't quite understand it. He knew his parents loved each other very much, but he also found love to be so embarrassing he didn't know why anyone would want to indulge it. Why would you want to make those silly kissy faces and call someone ridiculous pet names and devote so much of your time to a complete stranger?

It wasn't until that day that Mickey understood that love wasn't something you really had any say in, because if he had a choice, he would not be intently staring at this beautiful girl in a fake magic show while his parents were probably in danger. A part of him was mentally trying to drag himself away and get back to work, but the rest of him had his feet planted and his eyes wide, not budging an inch. He'd watch her for the rest of his life if he could. It wasn't his fault she was so pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty...

“What wonderful tricks will you perform for us, master?” the girl asked, hands clasped together, smiling sweetly.

“Do the monkey trick again!” one audience member cried out, and another shouted, “The card tricks, show us the card tricks again!”

Mortimer ignored these requests, taking off his coat and turning it inside out to show there were no secret compartments. “It's a little chilly today...I wish my coat was made out of...” Another pause, his tongue flicking back and forth as he tried to think of something. “...red, blue, and...gold poodle fur!” And in a puff of pink smoke, that was exactly what it became, much to the audience's surprise and delight.

“Isn't he great?” A man standing beside the prince and his companions laughed. “This guy's been to ten different cities, but he never does the same trick twice... Or at least never in the same exact way.”

“A-huh,” said Mickey who wasn't paying attention to anything being said.

Horace gave up on trying to drag either of his crewmates away, so he crossed his arms and settled in for the long haul. “I guess originality's a good thing, but that kind of seems like a stretch. Why wouldn't you do the same trick in a different town? It's not like they'd know about it.”

“A-huh,” said Mickey who would have found this interesting if the pretty girl on stage didn't exist... who, it seemed, was getting tired? After that last trick, she put a hand to her chest and her breath appeared to quicken.

“And for my next trick,” Mortimer announced after putting his new coat back on, “I will now...” He took off one of his white gloves, “Pull a water buffalo out of my glove!”

Suddenly the girl seemed to jump, and she quickly ran to Mortimer's side, tugging on his coat. “M-Master, we – you can't do that trick!”

Mortimer stopped in place, and his cheesy expression began to grow cold, glaring down at his assistant, his showman's voice now hissing. “What have I told you about interrupting the gig?”

“But, master...” the girl pleaded, trying to keep on a worried smile. “You already performed that trick in the last town, remember...?”

“So what?” Goofy chirped, bouncing on his heels. “I wanna see it! C'mon, where's the water buffalo?”

Horace looked at his captain. “Do you even know what a water buffalo is?”

“Nope! So it makes me wanna see him pull one out even more!”

Mortimer pulled his hand back as he tried to recall what trick was performed where. “Shhhoooot. Why didn't you tell me before I got on stage!”

The girl stepped back, still smiling but it was clear, at least to Mickey, that it wasn't an honest one. “I tried to, master, but you said you didn't need my help...”

“I don't need your-” But Mortimer cut himself off, realizing that this argument wasn't going to help sales. He cleared his throat and chuckled, turning back into the charming performer. “That is...an audience like this doesn't deserve a water buffalo! They deserve something better! Like... an ice buffalo! A buffalo made completely out of ice!” But when he tried to reach into the glove again, nothing came out. He shot the girl an annoyed look, and in turn she merely raised one eyebrow, and he grumbled, “I wish I could pull a buffalo made out of ice from my glove!” This time he had no problem, pulling out a miniature statue of a buffalo made out of ice. “Ta-da!”

The audience cheered and clapped, save for Horace, who was fairly sure Clarabelle was going to kill them for being late, and for Mickey, who was frowning at the mistreatment his first love – shut up, he told his head, no she isn't – was going through. It was oddly enough the right thing to snap him out of his lovesick stupor – which he wouldn't admit to having because if he turned into his mortifying parents... he would rather jump off a cliff. More importantly, Mortimer the Magnificent had no right to treat anyone that way when they were just trying to help.

Mortimer was relieved that he won the audience back over, but he needed to make-up for all the time lost during that argument, maybe even make them forget it ever happened. “And I wish for a mountain of eastern silk robes to appear!” Which, in another puff of pink smoke, appeared. “And now I wish for the robes to turn into cobwebs!” Which they did. “And now I wish the cobwebs to turn into kitty-cats!” Which they did. “And now I wish the kitty-cats were solid gold carrots!” Which they did, making the audience shout “WOW!” louder and louder with each transformation.

Because Mickey was the only one watching the girl instead of the show, he was the only one to notice how exhausted she was becoming, even though all she was doing was encouraging the audience to applaud. With every new trick, sweat began to roll down her fur, her knees began to buckle, and soon she was so overwhelmed she had to sit on the stage.

Mortimer didn't notice, didn't care, or perhaps had some combination of both. “And for my greatest trick, I wish-”

“Master!” the girl suddenly cried out, her hand to her chest, panting heavily. “I... I think the audience is... so moved by your amazing tricks, they need... a minute to let it all sink in!”

Once again, Mortimer stopped being Magnificent and became maddened, storming over and sticking his index finger in her face. “What did I just say about interrupting the show?! Your only job here is to flash those pretty eyelashes and keep the audience hyped!” The girl flinched, drawing back, but Mortimer wasn't finished with her. “Keep this up, and I swear I'll-”

“YOU LEAVE HER ALONE!”

Now everyone's attention was to the far back of the audience where Mickey stood, his hands balled up into fists. Anger like this was still new to him, so he let it flow through every vein and take over his whole mind. Beauty or not, there was no way he was going to let anyone get assaulted in front of him. He began to walk forward and the audience parted like the Red Sea, suddenly frightened by the fire in his eyes. “You will step away from her... right now.”

Mortimer straightened his back, swallowing hard. “Hey, hey, let's take it easy!” He laughed nervously, fingers pressed together. “You're taking this too seriously! This is all... just... part of the act! Right, babe?” He stared at her intensely, trying not to glare while getting the point across.

The girl bit her lip, and then she looked at Mickey – by gosh those were some deep beautiful blue ocean eyes that NO, FOCUS - and while she had looked out at the audience before, it had been as one collective group, never focusing solely on one person. Now she was actually looking at him, and Mickey could feel his heart skipping a beat. She was still tired, her whole body sagging, but those eyes of hers were still as bright and alive as a new dawn. There was surprise here, naturally, but a sadness that couldn't be put into words. Had it been there all this time since he first saw her? What did she look like when she was genuinely happy?

Mickey offered his hand to her, his voice quiet and gentle. “Are you okay?”

The girl looked down at his hand, and for the briefest of moments she seemed to consider it, lifting her own hand up an inch. Yet within seconds any hope within her died, and her hand curled up – it was then that Mickey saw she was wearing golden cuffs on her wrist. He'd seen something like that back in his home – when newcomers would come to the kingdom, and his parents made it explicitly clear that in their laws, one crime against humanity would never be tolerated there – and his rage was ignited all over again. “Is she your slave?!” His hand shot out, grabbing the girl's wrist and holding it up for all to see. There, on her left wrist, the cuff said “Minnie.”

Collective groups of the crowd gasped, others shocked into silence, and Mortimer flailed his arms wildly. “Nooo no no no no no! It's a fashion statement! Look, I've got them too!” He yanked down on his sleeves, and true to his word he was wearing an identical set of cuffs on his own wrists. Sighs of relief smoothed out the audience, but Mickey wasn't convinced.

“What is she to you?” Mickey let the girl – Minnie? What a nice name, pretty name DANG IT KNOCK IT OFF - go and began to reach for the hilt of his scimitar nestled on his belt. “I'm not going to let you treat her like garbage!”

Mortimer's patience for interruptions was wearing thin. “Look, what does it matter to you? It's all a show! Who do you think you are, anyway?”

Mickey stood tall and proud, a thumb to his chest. “I am Prin-”

“Preeettyyy sure that's enough of you, mister!” Horace and Goofy were suddenly on both of Mickey's sides, clamping their hands over his mouth and dragging him away.
“Real sorry about that!”
“His first magic show, he got a little too excitable!”
“Keep up the good work!”
“Don't mind us!”

Mickey kicked and yelled, but he couldn't free himself from their grasp until they were in the way back of the crowd, the audience beginning to mesh again. Mortimer cleared his throat, brushing down his long coat. “Maybe it's about time I wrap things up! Two more tricks, and then Mortimer the Magnificent's gotta move on out!”

Meanwhile, Mickey finally wrestled his way out of hands and fingers. “What are you two doing?!”

“Saving your hide, thank you very much,” Horace whispered, trying to encourage Mickey to do the same. “You can't go around telling people you're a P-R-I-N-C-E!”

“And why not?!”

“First off, not everyone is as nice as we are,” Goofy explained, tossing his thumb over his shoulder. “Some folks may look good enough, but the moment money enters their mind, it's like they become a different person. They might think they could hold you for hostage, or try to follow you and steal all you've got!”

“Secondly,” Horace continued, “You've got no authority outside of your kingdom! Even if we run into places that use slavery, you've got no power to stop it! And we can't liberate every single person we find, or those higher-ups will make sure we can never enter their lands again! I know it's rough, but if we're gunna try to find your parents, we gotta play it smart!”

Mortimer scanned the audience to find the richest looking individual, which happened to be a short lady covered head to toe in expensive jewelry. “You there, ma'am! What's the most prized possession you own?”

The woman tapped her chin with her finger. “Why, that would have to be my Ming vase, it's worth millions!”

Mickey knew his friends were making sense, but his heart was still burdened by the ethics and morals he thought applied to the entire world. “But if she's really his slave, we can't just leave her with him! It's not right! You can't expect me to just abandon her!”

Mortimer drew himself up, wiggling his fingers. “I wish this woman's Ming vase would appear in my hands!” A puff of pink smoke, and there it was, with the woman laughing gleefully at what she thought was an amazing fake knock-off and the audience clapping.

“Mickey, you have to think real carefully,” Goofy spoke as kindly as he could, kneeling down to meet Mickey at eye-level. “Right now, it's a choice... that girl, or your parents. You can't save everybody.”

Mortimer eyed the vase, drooling at the sight of something that would make anyone owning it rich for the rest of their lives. “And for my last trick... I wish this woman's Ming vase would reappear where I think it belongs.” He smirked as the vase vanished, and the audience burst into wild cheers for his last trick, though they were begging for more as they threw coins at his feet. Minnie began to pick them up one by one, eyeing the boy in the back.

Mickey shook with anger, and he snatched Clarabelle's list from Goofy's hand. “Maybe you can't, but I won't be that kind of person! I refuse! If you can't save everyone, then maybe I don't want to sail with you!” He then ran off as fast as his feet would take him, blinded by anger, frustration, and the horrible realization that Goofy was possibly right.

Horace was about to go after Mickey, but Goofy placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head silently. Horace slowly nodded in understanding. Mortimer had also noticed the boy taking off, and he was still burned by embarrassment. “And I wish that boy's most prized possession would reappear where I think it belongs,” he growled under his breath, shoving his hands in his pockets as he began to leave the stage.

Minnie heard this, dropping a few coins in shock. “Master!”

“Don't lose a single one,” Mortimer huffed as the crowd began to disperse. “Then get to the shopping and chores. We're out of here tomorrow.”

Goofy tilted his head, watching Mortimer storm off the stage. “I wonder why, with all his magic, he doesn't just poof himself home.”

Horace put a hand to his face, deciding that it was pointless telling Goofy that Mortimer had no magic.

Which, in a sense, was true.

~*~

Mickey ran and ran until his feet were crying out in pain and he was hopelessly lost. Yet as tired as his body was, he was still surging with anger and hopelessness. People were going back and through the marketplace, no one stopping to bless the Son of Scheherazade for years to come. It was just what he needed, since he didn't want anyone to see how close to tears he was. He really couldn't do anything to help that girl? He had to choose between doing the right thing and helping his parents? Could he live doing that every day? Could his parents understand that choice?

He had taken Goofy's list to prove he could get all the supplies he needed all on his own, but he also needed something to vent himself out on. He ripped the list to shreds, and once it was all gone, he slammed his fists into the wall of a bricked up shop, slammed again, slammed it three times before pressing his forehead to the bricks. What had he been expecting? He was still useless. He'd never be able to do anything. He was nothing but the Son of Scheherazade. A stupid, weak, naive little boy that couldn't do anything on his own.

Mickey sniffled, fighting off tears again, and pushed himself off the wall – just in time to bump into someone carrying so many bags and packages that it covered their face and head. Both shouted in surprise, and all the supplies sprawled out onto the ground. “Oh no! I-I'm so sorry!” Mickey apologized, kneeling down and scrambling to try and pick it all back up.

“No, no, it's my fault, I wasn't watching here I was going.”

“I was the one who...” Mickey trailed off, recognizing that familiar voice. He looked over, and there, now kneeling at his side, was Minnie. He made a most undignified “UH!” sound, feeling his tail snap up straight. What were the odds?! His usual depression and self-loathing were set aside because she was now much much MUCH closer to him than before and she even smelled nice wow...

Minnie blinked twice before her own recognition hit. “Oh! You're the boy from the show!”

Well that nice moment ended quickly. “I'm not a boy,” Mickey insisted, despite mentally calling himself that a minute ago, “I'm a man! I'm an official man, I'm eighteen years old.”

“Official man?” Minnie repeated with a hint of amusement, picking up her things. “So there was paperwork and laws involved?”

Mickey got the sense he was being teased. “Of course not. It just... happens, when you turn eighteen.” He was tempted to ask how old she was, but even he knew that was probably dangerous territory when it came to women, especially women you weren't 100% certain about their names. “I mean, I'm pretty sure that's how it goes... is that not what happens in other kingdoms?”

“Lots of lands have lots of different rules about ages.” Minnie shrugged, her arms full again.

“Sounds like you've been to a lot of places.” He was almost jealous.

“I've been here and there.” but Minnie didn't add anything more, as if reluctant to go into details. “...Thank you for helping me. Is that what official men do?” Another hint of a tease.

“I think this is what anyone with common decency does.” Mickey retorted, his arms also full of all kinds of goodies. “This is a lot of stuff for one little lady!”

“It's not for me, it's for my master.”

Once again, the good mood was snuffed out, and Mickey's face went dark. “You still have to call him that even when you're not performing?”

“It is my duty,” Minnie replied with a tired sigh, not wanting to explain this either. She took a step further to try and take her things from Mickey, but he took a step back.

“If Mortimer the Megalomaniac isn't going to help you,” Mickey insisted, “then I will. Just show me the way, and I'll help deliver it!” He finished with a smile, always happy to help.

Yet Minnie was wary, eyeing him up and down suspiciously. “He won't pay you for your trouble.”

“Okay.”

“...And I can't pay you either.”

“Okay.”

Minnie waited, and then pouted. “Well, then what are you expecting to get out of this?”

Mickey looked at her as if she'd just asked why fish in the sea were wet. Wasn't the answer obvious? “I'm not expecting anything, I just wanna help! Besides, if that jerk gave me a single coin, I'd make him eat it.”

Minnie watched him carefully, a puzzle forming in her head until she seemed to solve it with one nod. “Oh, I see... very well, come along.” She began to walk, and Mickey followed, his own questions unanswered. Why did she seem to distrust him even though he had stood up for her? Had Mortimer corrupted her worldview that much? Boy, if there was anyone in the world that deserved a kick to the shin, or somewhere a little more up north...

“My name's Mickey.” he said, trying to steer the conversation towards something more pleasant. “What's yours?”

She hesitated, but it didn't take long for her to relent. “My name is Minnie.” She paused in her walk to let some playing children pass by.

Mickey had been right, her name was Minnie. Minnie, Minnie, he wanted to practice saying it on his tongue but there was no way he could do it in front of her without sounding nuts. “Have you been in this town long, Minnie?” There, he got away with it once, and it felt pleasant. Minnie Minnie Minnie.

“We've only been here for a few days, and we're leaving tomorrow.” One of the children dropped their straw doll, and Minnie tried to return it while juggling her armload of packages. “I think we're headed for Attalaa next, it's very close.”

Mickey pondered if he could get away with putting that location on their map. “I've never been there... guess you could say I've never really been anywhere. I'm a little bit sheltered.” This got a curious and confused look from his companion. “What?”

“Why would you admit that?” Didn't this boy – man, heehee – have any sense of self-preservation? Who stated their faults that easily?

“...Because it's the truth?” Mickey answered with a big shrug. “Maybe I never had too many normal conversations myself. No one really listens to what I have to say... they care more about what I am than who I am.”

Minnie's eyes went down as much she'd allow without tripping over herself. “I know what that's like. After a while, you wonder what's the point of speaking up.”

“Y-Yeah, exactly! Like, why bother learning how to speak at all if no one listens?”

“But if you never said anything, people act like you're the one with the problem.”

“And you don't know what to do, it's like you can't do anything right! You're useless, you feel like... like... like...”

“You shouldn't exist?”

The mice stopped their walking to have their eyes meet. Despite the conversation starting off nicely enough, neither of them had expected to find a similar suffering. They weren't sure what to do with this information, but it wasn't unwelcome. Minnie shifted the packages in her arms a little, eyes shyly looking back and forth between the ground and Mickey's face.

“I didn't think anyone else felt that way,” she murmured after a moment, perhaps lost in a time of ageless memories. “Maybe I thought no one could ever understand... but...” She then shook her head to dismiss herself of the notion. “I shouldn't...”

Mickey leaned in, wondering what the matter was. “Minnie? What is it?” It was if she was almost admitting something but then had punished herself for daring to try.

“It's nothing.”

“If it's important to you, it's not nothing.”

A stretch of silence passed between them, and then Minnie quietly chuckled low in her throat. “It'd be nice if you stayed this way.” Her eyes saw him again. “The way you were at the show... if you're like that everywhere you go, I don't think you're useless at all.” Then she did something so spectacular, so amazing, so heart-stopping wonderful that Mickey could have died happy right then and there.

Minnie smiled. An honest, true, sincere smile that emphasized the pinkness of her cheeks and the beauty of her face, as if it was one she hadn't given to anyone in a long, long time. Nothing in his mother's stories could have ever described what Mickey was seeing. It wasn't just the fact that she was good looking that made it so special – this was a special smile, a rarity, something she didn't get to do too often, a hidden treasure that had been carefully unlocked. This was a smile that only one person could get to see.

Mickey wasn't prepared for it, and it stunned him so deeply that he dropped all the packages in his arms and said, “Wow.”

Minnie jumped. “What are you doing?!”

“Wha-OH! Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Mickey wildly tried to salvage what had now met the ground twice, hoping he hadn't broken anything. “I'm sorry, it was just, you're so pretty-” No!” “I didn't mean that! Not that you're not pretty, of course you are, I-” Nooo! “I'm sorry, I don't know how to talk like a normal person, not that I'm weird or strange or anything you should be afraid of-” STOP TALKING! “I don't know how to talk to pretty girls!”

Mickey continued to decompose verbally in front of Minnie, flailing and hyperventilating while trying to pick up what he'd dropped, yet dropping it all over again as he kept saying more embarrassing things. Why hadn't his parents prepared him how to talk to girls?! … Oh, right, because Mickey would have run out of the room. Minnie just blinked slowly at this odd spectacle, having never seen anything quite like this in all her years. Because this was something she'd rarely seen, it caused a rare reaction.

Minnie's lips twitched, then quivered, and then she burst – she began to giggle loudly, almost losing her own packages. Her body shook and trembled, and she had to take a step back to make sure she didn't collapse from giggling fits. Mickey's face reddened to bright tomato red, but on the plus side, he had made her laugh, which was worth losing whatever dignity he had. He flashed a toothy grin, chuckling quietly. People passing by stifled their own snickers, thinking that a couple of silly kids were having a very unusual first date.

Minnie finally managed to catch her breath, though a few giggles still slid in between her words. “I-I'm sorry, it was wrong to laugh...”

“I think we both needed it.” Mickey did feel more relaxed after it had all passed, since things probably couldn't get much worse from here on. Besides, he got her to smile and laugh, he was feeling very accomplished. “Besides, if Mortimer gets mad his stuff is busted, he should have used his fancy schmancy magic to poof it up himself.”

“He doesn't want to waste the magic on little things.” Minnie waited patiently as Mickey lifted everything back up a second time.

“That so.” Once Mickey was up and at 'em again, they walked. “So answer me this... If he's so magnificent, why put on a show? Why not just poof up some money and enjoy the high life?”

“He craves attention.” Minnie walked with him, a little closer this time. “He wants people praising him all the time. He can't stand not being the center of attention... even if life would be easier otherwise...”

Mickey raised an eyebrow, curious as to how much she'd now allow herself to say. “And I guess he doesn't listen to you when you tell him that.”

Minnie nodded, but her eyes were growing distant, seeing a horizon that Mickey couldn't imagine. “I don't know why I bother. In the end, everyone is the same.”

Mickey furrowed his brows, this once pleasant chat now growing uncomfortable. “What's that supposed to mean?”

She didn't bother to look at him this time. “I'm sure there are lots of good, decent people in the world... but...once someone gets a dose of power...they change. They tell themselves they'll use it to help people, but greed always wins. Deep down, everyone only really cares about themselves, and power brings that out. It's just a matter of time.” It almost sounded like a speech, something she'd said to herself time and time again in an effort to learn.

It also sounded similar to what Goofy had said earlier - Some folks may look good enough, but the moment money enters their mind, it's like they become a different person – and this too didn't sit right with Mickey. No matter how lovely Minnie was or how much he wanted to stay on her good side, this was not something Mickey could let slide. “That's not true.”

Minnie made a tiny scoffing sound. “Is that right?”

“It is right,” Mickey insisted, walking a little faster now. “Not everyone in the world has a greedy person ready and waiting to pop out! There are people who are good all the way through! And you can't let a handful of bad people ruin how the world looks! There are people who will do what's right without rewards or money or power... they'll do it because in their hearts, they know it has to be done!”

Minnie stopped walking, standing in front of a very small clay house that leaned to one side, with all the windows boarded up and big DO NOT ENTER signs plastered all over. “And do you think you're one of those people?”

Mickey almost said “yes” immediately. But would a good person be struggling with the decision between a trapped girl and their own parents? Wouldn't they know the right choice instantly? “...I'm not perfect,” he decided, “And I know sometimes it's just easier to walk away and let things be. But...I am who I am. And I'm not the sort of person who can just ignore someone in trouble, even when there's not much I can do about it. Maybe it makes me good, or dumb, or naive, but there are things about us we can't change. And, honestly, I don't think I want to become that kind of guy who walks away when someone is being threatened. Power wouldn't change that. And I'll tell you that as many times as I need to until we get to Mortimer's place!”

“This is his place.”

“...Oh.” Mickey glanced up. Huh, it sure was a crummy looking house for a magnificent magician. Did he spend all his money on shopping so he didn't have any leftover for a decent place to stay? “...Still meant what I said.” He placed the belongings down beside the front door.

Minnie wasn't entirely touched by his heartfelt words, emptying her own hands beside the house. Mickey glared at the house, clearly wanting to have words with whoever was inside. Minnie stepped to Mickey's side, and her fingers brushed by his arm – he felt a spark fly through his arm and again his anger was put aside to embrace a good old mind malfunction.

“Mickey, whoever you are...” Minnie looked up at him, her fingers now laced together. “I hope that you stay this way forever... and I hope I never see you again.” And Mickey would have probably asked why she said that if she hadn't done what she did next.

She kissed his cheek.

Minnie probably then said something like “goodbye” or “have a nice day” but Mickey didn't hear it, or really pay any attention to her picking up her things and entering the house. He had stopped moving the moment her lips touched his face, and for the next minute he didn't move. He didn't move during minute two either, nor three, nor four.

On minute five, he inhaled. On minute six...

“WHOOO-HOOO!”

This gigantic shout of love-induced euphoria echoed all across the town, which helped José and Panchito locate the mouse, as they had been assigned to find him after something happened on the ship. As they followed the subsequent hooting and hollering, they found Mickey dancing up and down the marketplace, climbing up poles and swinging from curtains, grabbing startled shopkeepers and spinning them in circles. “Aw, he's so happy,” Panchito lamented, “I don't want to tell him the bad news now.”

Mickey turned his head upon hearing that voice, and he sprinted towards the birds, hugging them both. “Guys! GUUUYYS! She kissed me, she kissed me, she kissed me!”

“Huh?” Panchito asked, trying not to drop his guitar.

“Who?” José asked, trying to keep his hat on.

“Minnie, kissed me, on the cheek!” Mickey let them go to break into an impromptu dance routine. “She kissed me, she kissed me, she kissed meee!”

José and Panchito looked at each other, shrugged, and then joined in the dancing and singing, with Panchito strumming the guitar and José miming the action with the umbrella. “She kissed him, she kissed him, she kissed hiiim!”

“She likes me, she likes me, she likes meee!”

“She likes him, she likes him, she likes hiiim!”

“She said she never wanted to see me agaiiin!”

“She said she never wanted to see him agaiiin!” But the birds at least had some common sense, stopping the broadway musical after that lyric. It was José who held up a finger. “Uh, Mickey, mind repeating that?”

Mickey was still making up his own samba, the actual words not hitting him just yet. “She said she never wanted to see me agaiiin-” … Oh, wait, now he heard it. “...She said she never wanted to see me again?” he repeated, frozen in mid-tango, too confused to be heart-broken right away. “Huh? But... she...” Why would she kiss him and then say that? Didn't they connect? Didn't they have a good time? How could things get worse?

“Okay, now we can tell him the bad news!” Panchito pushed his guitar over his back.

“We just got back to the ship...”

“... And Clarabelle told us that Pluto's gone missing!”

Chapter Text

Mickey had already started running without waiting for any further explanation, even though he wasn't entirely sure which direction the ship was in. Any thoughts of Minnie and heartbreak would have to be dealt with later – the last living thing from his home was gone, the last member of his family had been snatched away. Thankfully Panchito and José were able to catch up with him, guiding him in the correct direction, trying to explain as they ran.

“We had gotten back to the ship-”
“Clarabelle was in a panic!”
“So we asked her what was going on-”
“She couldn't find Pluto anywhere!”
“She said one second he was at her side-”
“And the next, poof! Vanished! Gone!”

Mickey trusted Pluto deeply. He knew his beloved dog wouldn't disobey an order if it came from Mickey, and since Mickey had made him stay, Pluto would've stayed. Had the same dark force that kidnapped his parents gotten their claws onto Pluto? How was that possible? Not only that, it didn't make sense. Stealing a Sultan and Sultana was logical, maybe for ransom or power, but why steal a former stray? Wasn't that taking a step backwards?

But in the end, none of those questions mattered. What mattered was that Pluto was missing, and Mickey was going to get him back. He was not going to lose someone else he loved so dearly.

The trio returned to the ship, and Clarabelle was still searching every possible nook and cranny, calling out the dog's name in a now futile effort to find him. “Plutooo! I have a nice juicy steak for any dogs who feel like making my life easier today!”

“Clarabelle!” Mickey cried out once his feet were on board. “Where is he? What happened to him?”

Clarabelle sucked in air through her teeth, uneasily standing up and fiddling with her braid. “Well, uh, you see... I don't know?”

“How do you not know?!” The young prince was instantly in front of her, fists clenched, eyes full of fury. “He was with you! He would've stayed with you, he's a good dog! I want you to tell me what happened to Pluto!”

“That's just it, Mickey!” Clarabelle pleaded, trying to make Mickey understand. “I really don't know what happened! He was by my side the whole time, ever since you guys left! I was cleaning everyone's rooms, and when I got to your room, I turned around, and he was gone! And I searched the entire ship, up and down, side to side! I don't know what happened, but he's not here anymore!”

José looked over the ship's side, lightly poking the rope that anchored down the ship with his umbrella. “Dogs can't climb up and down, right? So how could he have possibly gotten down without becoming a Pluto Pancake?” Mickey paled.

“Si,” Panchito agreed, a hand to his beak. “And if he had jumped, we should have surely noticed that mess down below!” Mickey paled more, ready to pass out at the idea of his dog being dead.

Clarabelle grabbed the birds by their heads and smacked them together. “Stop scaring him! Pluto is not a pancake or a mess or anything like that! I'm sure he's fine, wherever he is!”

The duo dizzily apologized, but Mickey ignored it, swallowing down his fear. “He couldn't have gotten far! He has to be in the town somewhere if he's not on the ship!” He headed back for the rope ladder, but stopped when he saw that Horace and Goofy were climbing back up, both of them carrying sacks of supplies over their shoulders.

Mickey backed up as the men climbed on and placed down their packages. “What's all the fuss about?” Horace asked, scratching his head. “We could hear yelling all the way up! Did something happen while we were out?”

“Pluto's...” Mickey started, but stopped when he looked at Goofy. If Goofy wouldn't allow them to help Minnie out of possible slavery, would he have them search for one measly dog? Would Mickey have to go through another heart-wrenching decision – now his parents or his best friend? “Pluto's... Pluto's gone,” he finished, his voice weak, tearing his eyes away from the captain.

Goofy blinked. “Gone? How's that?”

Clarabelle sighed, annoyed at having to explain this yet again. “The dog just vanished out of nowhere! He was at my side and then poof, gone!”

Mickey then lifted his head, picking up on something peculiar. Hadn't Panchito and José said something similar? A little too similar? “Poof?”

“Poof!” Clarabelle repeated, wiggling her fingers. “Gone! A poof of smoke, and gone!”

Horace frowned. “You mean 'puff' of smoke.”

“I said 'poof' and I meant 'poof'!”

“It's puff!”

“POOF!”

“PUFF!”

Goofy calmly stuck his hand between the arguing couple, hoping to prevent the world's most ridiculous fight from going any further. “Mickey, there any particular reason why the word matters?” he asked gently, genuinely interested in why the mouse had brought up something so peculiar.

“Poof or puff, you're still certain there was smoke?” Mickey tried to word it right, not liking where his mind was going. “You wouldn't have used 'poof' if you didn't have a reason to, right? I've seen some things poofing in and out today... and each time, there was smoke, but it was pink.”

Clarabelle blinked slowly, and then slapped a fist into her open palm. “Why, you're right! I thought that was pretty weird... there was smoke, and it was pink! A poof of pink smoke, and Pluto was gone! It happened so fast that I didn't really think about it, I was too worried about Pluto!”

“Pink smoke!” Horace repeated, able to make the connection Mickey was suggesting. “Why, we saw that exact thing at the magic show with Mortimer the Magnificent! Every time he performed an act, there was pink smoke!”

“Then he really is magical!” Goofy added on, at first excited that he'd been right all along, and then he sobered up, remembering this was not a good thing. “Which means... he stole Pluto?”

Panchito crossed his arms in thought. “Why would this Magnificent person want to steal Mickey's dog?”

Mickey knew darn well why, and now the anger in his chest was so hot he could feel it burning his skin. For trying to save the girl, for pointing out how cruel he was, for interrupting his precious show, Mortimer had stolen what Mickey treasured most. He was going to pay for that mistake, and no amount of magic would be able to save him. If he had hurt a single hair on Pluto... Mickey's hand found its way to the handle of his scimitar, and he began to storm towards the rope.

“Mickey.” Goofy's voice cut through the rage.

“Don't you dare try to stop me.”

“Mickey-”

“I don't care about the reputation of the crew or laws of the land or anything like that!”

“Mickey-”

“I am getting my dog back, and there is nothing you can say that's going to stop me!”

“Well, good, cause I didn't want to stop you.”

Which, ironically, did stop Mickey. He turned to stare at Goofy, once again his anger being snuffed out. “Huh? But... before...?”

“That was then, and this is now. Pluto is a member of the crew, and we never leave any member of the crew behind. Plus, Mortimer stole from us! Stealing from a pirate is an invitation for trouble. So we're just getting back what's rightfully ours.” Goofy smiled, offering a thumbs up. “We're all coming along to get Pluto back! Don't you worry none, he's as good as home already.”

Mickey opened and closed his mouth several times before he could come up with a coherent response, which resulted in him shuffling his feet on the floor and mumbling. “Th... thank you, Goofy. I'm, uh... I'm sorry for snapping at you before. I shouldn't have...”

“Aw, it's all right.” Goofy ruffed the fur between Mickey's ears. “Can't fault you for wanting to help someone else. You're a good kid learning new things.” Mickey smiled a little, and Goofy grinned. “Now, we gotta find Mortimer, and once we're sure Pluto is all right, we report him to the authorities! Then he won't steal anyone else's dogs.”

It was sensible, but then a stroke of worry struck Mickey. “... Right, of course we should do that, buuut... if we do...would Minnie get in trouble?”

“Who's Minnie?” Panchito asked.

“Is it that the girl who kissed you and said she never wanted to see you again?” José asked.

“Yes and shut up.” Mickey spoke quickly while his cheeks burned. “Look, I know where Mortimer lives, I can take us there. I just don't think we need to get Minnie involved!” Surely Minnie had nothing to do with this terrible kidnapping. She was an innocent victim of circumstance. Maybe while the right people arrested Mortimer, she'd be free, and she'd be grateful, and she'd want to show that gratitude with another kiss, and maybe that kiss would be on the-

“Hey, Romeo, let's focus on one thing at a time, shall we?” Clarabelle pushed Mickey with her foot – except she pushed too far and he wound up falling off the ship, although he managed to grab the rope just in time. “Whoops. Well, point still stands. Off we go.”

She began to climb down, with the birds following along with a chorus of “She kiiissed him!” Goofy was about to join them, but Horace gripped his shoulder. “You're seeing it too, aren't you? The kid's temper? We need to be careful. He might be like his father.”

Goofy didn't reply right away, sighing deeply through his nostrils. Yes, he was fully aware that the story of how Lady Scheherazade met the Sultan was not wholly a happy one. Mickey's father was a good man now, but he hadn't always been, and while people had cheered for the birth of the prince, there had always been a quiet fear that came with it. Would he turn out like his mother, a kind and generous woman? Or would he inherit the worst possible trait from his father? The one that had caused so much anguish, blood and tears?

“Sultan Al had no one to support him then,” Goofy finally said, eyes on the prince who was steadily climbing down. “But Mickey will have all of us to support him now.” Horace nodded in silence, yet they both had the same exact thought in their heads.

They would be there to support him... or they would be there to stop him.

~*~

Down below, the group split up again – this time Horace, Goofy and Mickey would rescue Pluto, while Panchito, José, and Clarabelle rounded up the town's guardsmen to formally arrest Mortimer. Clarabelle wished she could join in on the fight, mostly to help protect her husband. If Mortimer really was as Magnificent as they claimed, then he could use his godlike powers to defeat them easily! Sure, they'd been on a thousand and one adventures with bigger foes and bigger stakes, but this still didn't sit right with her. Plus, if Mickey was sweet on the assistant, that would probably make the battle even more difficult. She had to wonder if this was some kind of subtle lesson Goofy was planning... or just him being Goofy. It was often difficult to tell.

Yet when they found the guardsmen, the trio saw their work was starting off with trouble already. A woman was already there, ranting and raving at the guards wile her uneasy family tried to hold her back. “It's been stolen, I tell you!” the woman wailed, “That vase has been in my family for generations! It's a priceless heirloom! I demand you do something about it!”

The shortest of the guards shrugged helplessly. “We'll try, ma'am, but you're not giving us any leads here! Did you see who took it?”

“If I saw them, I wouldn't be here! I'd be chasing after them! When I came home, it was gone! Someone must have broken in while I was out watching the magic show!”

José elbowed Panchito at that mention, and Panchito nudged Clarabelle, and Clarabelle snapped her fingers. Yes, they were getting an idea of what had happened.

The guard sighed. “All right, so the door was busted open? Or a window broken?”

“No... all my doors and windows are locked! But they must have gotten in some other way! It was there when I left, and now it's not!”

“Ma'am... if you're telling us that your house was locked when you left, and locked when you returned, it is impossible for anyone to have stolen it! Maybe you just... misplaced it?” He then wisely put his hands over his ears, as his response was an unending angry scream.

Clara clicked her tongue to her teeth, annoyed. Now she had to wonder if their story about Mortimer “magic”ing away stolen pets and vases would even be believed. It's not like they had much proof. Still, Clarabelle was never one to give up, even against common sense. “I think this woman's right, because my little friend had something of his stolen too! And I bet it was by the same person!”

The guard looked at Clarabelle skeptically, cautiously lowering his hands. “Is that right? What, did yours just vanish too? Who do you want us to arrest, a genie?” The other guards snickered.

Now it was a struggle not to beat this man's head in with her foot. “I'm not talking about some made-up fairy tale, this is real! And I know where to go to prove it! The home of Mortimer the measly, malcontent, so-totally-not Magnificent! I promise you, if you come along, we will get this woman's vase back!”

This made the guards go quiet, as they did want the rich woman's shrilling to stop. The woman herself grabbed Clarabelle's hands, her eyes teary. “Oh, would you dear? I would be ever so grateful to have it back! Nothing means more to me than my precious family heirloom!”

Clarabelle kindly pat the woman's hand. “There, there, no need to thank us. It's the right thing to do. All we want is for everyone's things to be where they rightfully belong.”

“How can I ever repay you?”

“Oh, there's no need to...” Clarabelle quickly calculated how much doing “the right thing” was cutting into their schedule. “Actually, how does a blank check sound?”

~*~

Horace and Goofy didn't want to doubt Mickey, but when he led them to Mortimer's house, they couldn't help but be skeptical. Why would some powerful magician want to live in a small, crooked dump? Horace tried to peek in-between the boards on the windows but couldn't see a thing. “Are you sure this is the right place? Maybe that kiss made you mis-remember some things. Kisses are powerful things.”

“I came here before she kissed me! And stop saying the word 'kiss'!” Mickey didn't need his confusing feelings getting in the way of rescuing Pluto. “I'm telling you, this is the place! We have to find some way to get inside...” Mickey ran his fingers over the door. “I bet he's got some powerful magical spell preventing intruders from getting inside. We need to use our heads!”

“That's a good idea.” Goofy's voice was now a bit more distant. “Mickey, mind movin' aside for a second?”

Mickey moved before thinking to turn and ask, “What for?” But when he looked, his question was answered. Goofy had backed up and now was running headfirst into the door, smashing it open – and then he fell down?!

“YAAAAAAAAAAA-HA-HA-HOOOOOOIE!”

Mickey and Horace frantically ran inside to help the captain, and suddenly found themselves falling as well – to be more accurate, they found themselves sliding down a mountain of gold, silver and bronze coins, the inside of the house ten times larger than the outside! Mickey and Horace skidded to the bottom of the pile, with Goofy dizzily sitting up, eyes swimming and giving a thumbs up. “Head used!”

“Holy moley!” Horace cried out, now that he got a good look at their surroundings, and Mickey thought the exact same thing – Goofy would've too, but his concussion needed a few minutes to fix itself. The inside of the impossible house was covered in stolen relics and possessions, all of them lazily strewn atop more mountains of coins like an endless vault. Only the open doorway at the top gave any impression that this was the real world.

The only object that appeared to be given any sort of respect or care was a single golden lamp, held on a stone pedestal, tucked away in a corner. It reminded Mickey that he needed a lamp for his own dark room.

Far more importantly, at the furthest wall stood Mortimer, fists clenched in agitation, Minnie, who was backing up in worry, and lastly Pluto, who was chained to a wall and barking furiously at Mortimer, ready to sink his teeth into his captor's leg if he got too close. It was all this loud barking that prevented Mortimer from hearing the unusual intrusion. “I don't believe it! This mangy mutt is this kid's most valuable possession? What am I supposed to do with this worthless thing?”

“Just give him back, master!” Minnie pleaded, hands together, desperate. “There's no need to hurt him! Just send him home where he belongs!”

“You don't give the orders around here!” Mortimer growled, taking a step forward menacingly. “What I do with this mutt is my business! I'm not letting that brat think he got the best of me!”

That brat had just about enough of Mortimer's arrogance. “Give me back my dog!”

Pluto's snarling barks now turned into happy yips, pleased beyond measure to see his rightful master. Mortimer whipped around, startled, and he struggled for proper words to convey his exasperation. “How did you get in here?! Didn't you read the signs?”

Minnie put her hands to her face, wanting to give up. “I told you that the door needed a lock, master...”

“Shut up! I don't need your help!” After that snap, he faced his foes, rolling up his sleeves. “You've got ten seconds to get out of here before I wipe the floor with you!”

Mickey held out his scimitar, teeth grit. “I'm not going anywhere without Pluto! You let him go!”

Horace punched his fists together. “Ah, don't bother with this type, Mickey. They won't listen with words. Let's make Mortimer the Magnificent Mortimer the Mangled!”

“And two for tea!” Goofy added, still needing about thirty seconds before his brain was back in place. Regardless, all three charged forward with no real plan aside from “hurt him lots”.

Mortimer waved his hands, this time ignoring Minnie's pleas to just let them leave. “I wish... deadly vipers were hanging from the ceiling!” In a puff of pink smoke, several hissing snakes were swinging from the ceiling, trying to chomp on the trio, their fangs dripping with venom. Mickey yelped, trying to duck and weave around dozens of mouths, having a feeling that one bite would spell certain doom. Horace, far more used to these kinds of insane shenanigans than he was comfortable with, began pummeling any viper that came near, knocking one into the other with his fast fists. Goofy, now fully alert, grabbed one snake by the neck and began to climb up, treating this would-be attacker like a vine instead of a villain, swinging from snake to snake to get around.

Mickey didn't know how Horace and Goofy could treat this so calmly, when he was already frightened out of his mind. His yells got louder with every bite he dodged, and soon he was running out of room to run. But he couldn't die here – not with Pluto trapped, Minnie enslaved, and his parents waiting for him. He still didn't know how to fight or wield his sword – so he'd have to survive this another way. He shakily held out his sword, and one particularly big viper grabbed it with its teeth. Mickey grunted, trying to pull it back, but the snake had a firm grip – and suddenly Mickey realized this was a good thing. Here was a way to win without knowing how to fight, because he knew how to tie a knot.

With a grin on his face, he darted forward, then around, looping around several more snakes, until the first one was now perfectly entangled around several of its brethren, releasing the sword as it tried to breathe. Mickey flicked his foe on the snout proudly. “You'll have to try harder than that!”

“Mickey, don't give your villain suggestions!” Horace groaned.

Mortimer indeed was going to try harder. “Fine! Then I wish... the middle of the floor was quicksand!”

“Uh-oh,” Mickey whispered, because he just so happened to be in the middle of the floor. His feet were already beginning to sink, and he scrambled to climb out, which only made him sink deeper. “H-Help!”

“Hang on, Mickey!” Goofy snatched one snake from the rafters, sliding back down to solid ground and flinging the tail end towards his falling friend. “Literally, hang on!” Mickey held onto the tail, and Horace held onto Goofy, both of them pulling and tugging to free the prince.

Mortimer laughed maniacally, enjoying the power he had over the three of them. “That's what you get for trying to mess with Mortimer the Magnificent! No one can stop me! Everything in this world belongs to me, including your lives! And now... I wish the quicksand was on fire! I wish the snakes turned into bats! I wish your shoes were slippery!” And with each wish, their situation became worse, the heroes slipping and sliding while trying to avoid being bitten and burned. Goofy managed to pull Mickey into his arms before he could be burnt, avoiding the bats and snakes – Goofy held him tight, struggling to shield him from the ongoing dangers, but this couldn't last forever.

“W-what are we going to do?!” Now Horace was concerned, swatting away a bat, which was now on fire, from his face. “We can't even get close to him! How are we supposed to win against a guy who can wish up everything and anything?”

Minnie was now grabbing Mortimer's arm in a last-ditch effort to stop him. “Master, please! At this rate, you'll kill them! Please, stop this! It doesn't have to go this far!”

“I said shut up!” Mortimer harshly shoved her down to the floor, ready to do more if she dared try to stop him again. “This isn't your show, I don't need you! If I want to kill them, then I'll kill them!”

Mickey lifted his head, something coming together in his head. Not that he wasn't grateful Mortimer hadn't killed them, but – why hadn't Mortimer simply killed them, if he was so powerful? Why go through all this song and dance and snakes? Was he trying to show off, or was it something else? His mind raced, close to an idea. “I'm not giving up... I'm never giving up!”

Goofy ducked his head to avoid an oncoming bat, still holding Mickey protectively. “If you've got another good idea, Mickey, now would be a really good time to share it!”

Mortimer raised his hand, ready to deal another blow. “Oh, let me share something first! I wish a hundred flesh eating monkeys would-” But in his arrogance, he forgot to watch his step, which made him a perfect target for a canine's canines. Pluto chomped down hard on Mortimer's leg, causing the magician to howl in pain, hopping up and down on his good leg and vigorously trying to shake Pluto off. “Leggo leggo leggo leggo leggo!”

Horace, Goofy and Mickey winced, waiting for one hundred flesh eating monkeys... but they didn't show up. The lack of primates gave Mickey the final push he needed. “He needs to say the whole command! If we cut him off after 'I wish', he's done for!” He slid out of Goofy's arms, running up to a small hill of coins and lowering his scimitar with both hands. “Hey, Mortimer! I bet you're so dumb, you don't know what's two plus two!”

Insulted, Mortimer turned his head. “Of course I do! It's-”

“FORE!” Mickey smacked the top coin off the hill, sending it flying right into Mortimer's open mouth. It hit the back of his throat, and he gagged, choking on the coin, giving Mickey and his friends enough time to get out of the range of the quicksand and fire. No matter how much Mortimer waved his hands and curled his fingers, there was no spell, no magic, to power at all to stop them. Mortimer pounded on his chest, trying to get the coin out, and until he finally spat it out, the trio were able to advance on him without any trouble at all.

At the same time, Mortimer managed to wrestle his leg free. “Why you rotten... I wish-”

“Hey look, it's the authorities!” Horace lied, pointing behind Mortimer – who instantly fell for the ruse, cutting off his own wish, until Goofy's arm was around his throat.

“No no no no no!” Mortimer screamed, knowing that his last hour upon the stage was coming. “I wish-”

“I wish you'd shut your big mouth!” Goofy announced, yanking off his bandana and wrapping it around Mortimer's mouth. Mortimer's muffled cries couldn't do a thing, so Goofy pushed him over. “And that's for hittin' ladies!” He then put his foot on Mortimer's back, making sure he couldn't crawl away. “And that's for takin' Mickey's dog! Ain't no one steals from a member of my crew! … Unless we stole from you first. We are pirates, after all.”

Mickey ignored a chance to take revenge, for there were things far more important than that. He slid his scimitar against the chains, trying to pop open one of the links, working hard until there was a tiny snap – and then Pluto jumped on his master, licking him over and over in gratitude. Mickey laughed, hugging his pal. “Aw, you knew I'd never leave you behind, didn't you? And you saved us too! I knew bringing you along was the right thing to do! You're gunna get the biggest bone I can find when we're back on the ship! Who's a good boy, you are! You're my best boy!” Pluto yipped merrily, agreeing all the way, wagging his tail as he curled up lovingly to his master.

“Uh, I hate to interrupt the touching reunion...” Horace did so anyway. “But what are we gunna do about her?”

As there was only one “her” in the room, all eyes went to Minnie, who was silently watching with trepidation, her small hands on her chest. She had made no move to stop Goofy, or help Mortimer, or do much besides stand there. Yet Mickey saw no problem with this, placing his scimitar back on his belt. “Why, she can come with us! The more the merrier! She was nothin' more than Mortimer's servant, so now she's free!” And now they would find his parents and Minnie would come home with them and his parents would approve of her and then they'd have six kids and the first one would be named -

“I can't,” Minnie said in a whisper, her eyes down.

“...Huh?” Mickey had been in the process of celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary when she halted his lovesick fantasies. “Wait, what?”

Minnie refused to raise her eyes, her voice soft and broken. “Wherever my master goes, I must go with him. It is my duty... I am bound to him.”

“What?” Mickey repeated, incredulous, his jaw hitting the floor. “No, no, you don't understand! We're going to have Mortimer arrested for all his theft, you're free now! You don't belong to him anymore!” He grabbed her hands, trying to make her look at him. “M-Maybe you don't like me much,” what with her request to never see him again, which still stung, “But even if you don't come with us, you don't have to stay with him! You can go wherever you want! You should be able to live your life, Minnie! You're free!” Why was so unwilling to leave his side? She didn't actually... care about Mortimer, did she? His heart couldn't handle anything like that!

“Oh, Mickey...” She finally looked up, and there were those eyes again, those filled with a sadness that Mickey couldn't comprehend, an endless ocean of agony. “It's you who doesn't understand. I'm sorry... I didn't want to hurt you. It really was the last thing I wanted...” And she meant it, too, almost on the verge of tears, but not quite, as if she was physically fighting that urge. Hiding her desires was nothing new, but it never got any easier. She pulled her hands away from Mickey, and began to walk towards Mortimer.

“Minnie!” Mickey made an empty grab for her again. “Minnie, no, please! I... I... I...”

“My Ming vase!”

There came the cry of the rich robbed woman, who was in company of Clarabelle, Panchito, José, the guards, and now half of the village. They were flooding down in the house, and several villagers flocked to the stolen goods around the piles of money.

“I heard about a priceless rug that went missing two towns over, this is it!”
“My father's antique jeweled cabinet!”
“Didn't the emperor of Masruq announce a world-wide search for his stolen coin collection?”

The short guardsmen whistled, rather impressed by all the finds in one place. “A magical theft! In all my years, I've never seen such a thing. If we hadn't found this place, more people would have lost their goods!”

Panchito grinned, glad to have a supposedly happy ending. “And they wouldn't have gotten their goods back, if Mortimer hadn't stolen poor Pluto!”

“And I bet he wouldn't have stolen Pluto if Mickey didn't stand up for Minnie,” Goofy said with a smile, winking down at his friend. “Maybe I ought to learn a thing or two from you, Mickey.”

Mickey would've normally been flattered to receive such high praise from his childhood hero, but with Minnie sacrificing her freedom, he didn't feel like celebrating. Was she really going to follow him to jail? Was this how his first love was going to end?

“Young man, if this is all your doing...” the rich woman bowed in front of Mickey. “Then I insist you take a reward from here! You deserve it for all your heroics!” Many of the villagers agreed, applauding Mickey and praising his noble deeds. This was supposed to be what Mickey wanted, people liking him for something outside of being the Son of Scheherazade, but it had come at the price of losing his lady love. Would he have been better off never meeting Minnie?

“C'mon, kiddo,” Horace insisted. “Not every day we get folks asking us to take something!”

Mickey exhaled heavily. It felt uncomfortable to take something that had once belonged to someone else, but the citizens were staring at him with a strange kind intensity, and it would be impossible to refuse further. But what could he possibly need? He had his blade, his flying carpet, his dog, and the crew was sure to provide for anything else. He shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable... until his eyes fell upon the lamp.

That tiny golden lamp, on a pedestal in the corner of the room, as if it was the most important item there. An odd place to put a glorified candle, but it was the best option for now. He didn't have one in the flying boat, and he could use it for any late-night reading.. "I guess I'll take that," he announced, and began to walk straight towards the pedestal.

In an instant, the bound Mortimer went frantic. He struggled to move, and his gagged mouth went into muffled screams. Goofy gave him a slap upside the head in an effort to silence him, but the rat continued to freak. He kicked about, toward Minnie's general direction - her own eyes had grown wide, startled, staring at Mickey as he approached the small object. Was she holding her breath?

Mickey delicately lifted the lamp into his hands, and frowned - how dusty. It hadn't been touched in ages. Why steal a lamp if you were never going to use it? "Geez, would you look at this?" He began to rub his arm against the lamp, in an effort to clean it -

And the world turned pink.

The lamp seemed to explode, shaking and shivering, its top clattering against the rim, with pink smoke exhaling out of every orifice. Sparkles and fireworks flew out of the tip, creating dazzling effects in the air. The lamp whistled and whined, the ground shook, and several of the robbed citizens fled for their lives. Goofy was so distracted by the light display that his grip on Mortimer loosened - enough so that the rat could slip his arms free, and ripped the gag out of his mouth - and in the same instant, the golden cuffs on his wrists turned to ashes, swirling in a small sandstorm, flying through the air until they met Mickey's wrists, and became cuffs once more, emblazoned with names - Mickey and Minnie.

Mortimer got to his feet, shoving Goofy aside, his voice screeching in his desperation. "I wish - I wish - I wish - "He couldn't even make up his mind in his absolute panic.

Minnie finally “noticed” him, and turned her head back ever so slightly. Her face was haughty, with flat eyes and a voice caked in sheer loathing. "I no longer serve you... Mortimer." The first time anyone in the area had ever heard her address him by name. Mortimer made a grab for her, but Goofy had collected his senses, and the smack upside the head this time was far stronger, enough to knock the rat out.

The pink colors emerging from the lamp solidified into something resembling a mystical woman, her face hidden behind a veil, her arms crossed over her body, with no eyes in her sockets, and her ethereal voice sounding like the calls of all women that had ever lived all at once.

“THOU SHALL OWN THY GENIE UNTIL THE LAMP IS TOUCHED BY ANOTHER.
THOU SHALL NOT MAKE THE SAME WISH MORE THAN ONCE.
THOU SHALL NOT MAKE THY GENIE SHED TEARS.”

The elaborate light show appeared to be slowing down and stopping, and the goddess vanished without leaving a trace she had ever existed. Minnie began to slowly walk towards Mickey, her head lowered, hands pushed together. The lamp settled into silence, and the girl knelt before the prince, hands on her thighs, and head bowed in submission. "I am Minnie, genie of the lamp." Her voice was light, airy, but also seemed a bit... disengaged. As if she had given this speech a million times before, and so had lost the heart of it long ago. "As of today, I am your obedient servant, Mickey, my master."

"... What?" was all he could make out in response, looking down at her. All eyes - citizen and pirate alike - were watching the exchange, looking just as surprised as Mickey was.

"Use me as you wish." She placed a hand to her chest. "For your wishes are my command. I cannot disobey, but I cannot perform the same wish twice."

"... What?" he repeated.

"Merely command me with the words 'I wish', and my magic is yours to use."

Mickey had been about to repeat himself again, but at once, everything clicked in everyone's minds - Why Mortimer had always used “I wish” for every magic act, for every theft, for every single action he did that seemed impossible. He had been using a genie?! Mickey looked at Goofy, as if for confirmation, who was merely scratching his noggin in contemplation. Somehow, in all the thousand and one nights of adventures, this was a brand new twist. Mickey returned his gaze back to Minnie - who was suddenly much, much closer, on her feet, with barely any space between their noses. His entire face turned a deep scarlet at having such a lovely vision that near.

"There are many rules to follow, master." Her voice had gotten a bit deeper, and her eyelashes fluttered at him. Years of experience had taught her that male masters preferred her to be... “friendly” in the beginning.

"Mas – now - wait a - " Mickey's words caught in his throat. There was too much going on at once. He needed a minute – he needed a night – he needed a thousand and one nights! His first love was a genie?

"SHE'S A GENIE!" a voice screeched from the crowd of citizens – the rich woman, who had once been kind and generous, was now tossing her Ming vase over her shoulder. "Who needs this old thing when I could get a thousand new ones? Why in the sands should HE get her?!" And at once, the crowd agreed, their once kind looks now twisted in greed. It had been exactly as Minnie and Goofy had warned – a drop of power could change a person.

"We deserve her, after everything Mortimer put us through!"

"Yeah, she belongs to us!"

"Get 'er!"

Goofy put a few fingers in his mouth, and whistled high. "Time to go, lads!"

Movement was everywhere - the citizens were racing after the mice, the pirates were scooping up any stolen goods they could carry and making a run back to the ship, and Goofy took it upon himself to leap, grab a mouse in each hand, hitch them over his shoulders, and chase after his crew. It wasn't the first time Goofy and his crew had been chased out of a village, so they knew exactly the ducks, dodges, and weaves needed to get back to the ship without a losing hair on their heads. Mickey didn't have to do a thing except continue staring at Minnie, who was looking right back at him with disappointment.

Strangely, despite having so many questions buzzing around in his head, one stuck out at the forefronts of his thoughts as the most important.

Why wasn't Minnie allowed to cry?

Chapter Text

As much as many stories will try to tell you otherwise, it's actually very hard to hear a conversation on the other side of a wooden door, no matter how hard you press your ear to said door. However, this fact didn't deter Clarabelle, Panchito, José and even Pluto from trying. It had been only a few hours since they made their escape from the frenzied citizens of Mawarid with the discovery of a genie that now belonged to Mickey. Once they were safely on the ship, Mickey had locked himself and Minnie in his room. What they were up to was anyone's guess, although every member of the crew had their theory.

“Can you boys hear anything?” Clarabelle asked, growing frustrated.

“Nope.”
“Not a word.”
“Nada.”
“Zip.”
“Zero.”

“Woof.”

“Oh, will you leave those two alone?” Horace barked from behind, startling the group of eavesdroppers. “Ain't any of our business what they're up to! Give 'em some peace and quiet, is that too much to ask?”

Clarabelle whipped around so fast her long braid smacked both birds in their faces. “If that prince is a member of the crew, then it's our business! You saw how lovey-dovey he was about her, and now she's his possession? That's adding oil to a fire! I gotta know what's happening!”

“Have some faith in the boy!” Horace snapped, ready to face off in yet another argument with his wife. “He's a good kid! He's not going to take advantage of her!”

“Not every man is like you, Horace!”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're the one who fainted after our first kiss!”

“I DIDN'T FAINT! … I just lost my footing, is all.”

While Panchito and José began to take bets on who was going to win this round, all that noise still wasn't enough to effect what was happening inside – which, if you asked Minnie, was a grand total of nothing.

Mickey was sitting atop his bed, furiously writing on a scroll, stopping, then crossing out what he wrote and writing something else. The floor was now littered in scrolls with strikes, while Minnie was sitting on the floor with her arms crossed. All she had done was ask what his first wish would be, and since then...

“Okay, maybe if I wish for world peace – but peace is different for everybody!” Mickey cried out, crossing out another potential wish. “What if one person's idea of peace is having money and another person's idea is money going away forever? I can't do that! Okay, okay, what if I wish for everyone to have enough money... but what if that throws the entire world's economy out of whack?! I can't do that either! AUUUGH!” He clawed his head before throwing the ruined scroll to the floor and yanking up another one. “This is so hard! Minnie, you got any ideas?”

Minnie yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “I will agree with whatever you desire, Master.”

Mickey paused in his writing, lowering his quill. He hadn't wanted to be called the Son of Scheherazade, but this was a million times worse. “Do you have to call me that?”

She settled her hands on her lap. “You are my master. Do you wish I would call you something else?”

“Is that the only way you'll say it?” What happened to the sweet girl who understood his mindset? He slid off of the bed, shoving his writing equipment away. The lamp was tied to his belt now, hanging off his waist. “Look, Minnie... don't you remember what we talked about in the marketplace? How frustrating it is when people don't listen to us? The things we longed for?”

“Of course I remember, Master.” Yet her voice was passive, as if she'd only been asked to remember what the weather was like. Her eyes were bored and blank, conveying no emotion. It was if she had shut down.

“This is our chance to start over!” Mickey got down on one knee, taking her hand into both of his. “To get the things you deserve, and to make things better for the both of us! Isn't that what you wanted? For someone to hear you all along?” That bright, happy girl existed somewhere within Minnie. He just needed to find a way to bring it out again. Mortimer must have done something to extinguish the flame, but Mickey would light it up again! Once Minnie understood the depths of his compassion and the excitement of the world, she'd go back to normal! “So what do you want, Minnie? How about freedom from the lamp? I can wish you were free!” That would have to spark something in her!

“I will agree with whatever you desire,” Minnie replied automatically, her hand limp in his touch.

Mickey blinked, blinked again, blinked three times as the silence stretched on. Not even a gasp, or her eyes widening? But all the stories went that way! The kind master giving his servant freedom and the servant bursting into tears from relief – it was one of his mother's recurring tropes. Did she not believe him? “I... well... I can't give you freedom right away,” he admitted slowly, feeling uncomfortable as a weight stacked onto his shoulders. “Until I free my parents and find out whatever happened to them, I need all the help I can get. You understand that, don't you...?”

“Of course, Master.” Minnie still didn't show a single drop of care.

“B-But once they're safe and whoever took them is dealt with, then I can use my last wish to free you from the lamp!” he quickly added on, shaking her hand up and down, trying to get her excited about it. Why didn't she care? This was her life they were talking about! Didn't she have dreams of her own? His worry was turning into hot embitterment, his grip tightening. Why didn't she understand – No, why was she refusing to understand? “I promise, that's exactly what I'll do! I'll give you your own life to live! I give you my word! I will!”

“As you will it, Master.”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!” Mickey threw her hands down, rising to his feet. What was her problem?! He had saved her from Mortimer, had defended her when that rat was abusing her, and now she was acting like he hadn't done anything at all! Had the whole nice girl routine been an act? “I'm trying to help you! Don't you care? I am not your master, I am your friend!”

“Do you wish for me to call you that instead?”

“I'M NOT WISHING FOR ANYTHING!” Mickey stomped hard on the floor, making Minnie flinch for half a second. “You... you... I'm trying to help you, and you don't even care?! I can't believe you!” Angry beyond belief, he stormed off towards his door. He needed time away from her, and he hadn't eaten in what felt like forever.

“Do you wish me to follow you, Master?”

“I wish – I wish – I wish you'd clean up this mess!” Mickey snarled, slamming open the door – and hearing five simultaneous THUNKS as a result - Horace had eventually given in to temptation and joined the others. Mickey stared at the intruders of his privacy, who were all sheepishly rubbing the bumps on their heads.

Panchito and José, never ones to read the mood, broke out their guitar and umbrella, ready to restart Mickey's musical number. “Did she kiss you, kiss you, kiiiss youuu?” But one withering glare from Mickey shut them up instantly. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Minnie's magic gathering up the scrolls, with a bit of exhaustion to her movements, but he marched away, a storm cloud raging over his head. Pluto whined, trying to follow after his companion.

Horace looked at Mickey, and then inside at Mickey. “I don't think they're going to win any Couple Of The Year awards.”

~*~

Dinner was awkward. Minnie wasn't with them and Mickey was cutting into his meat so hard the plate was cracking. Pluto laid under the table, continuing to whine about Mickey's mood. Horace, Clarabelle, Panchito and José had a million questions to ask, but they didn't want to make their princely friend explode. Goofy arrived last, slapping down a map on the long dining table. “Okay, the course is all set for the kingdom of Taqs! We should be there in a few days. This could be our most dangerous mission yet!”

Horace rolled his eyes. “You say that about every mission.”

“Doesn't mean it ain't true.”

Mickey slowly stopped his cutting, his eyes rising up out of interest. “What makes it so dangerous?”

Clarabelle took over, standing up and spreading out her hands. “They say a tyrannical prince lives there, ruling over his people with an iron fist! His real parents were the spirits of thunder and lightning! Whenever he's feeling cross, he sends out storms to chase all the innocent civilians!”

“One day, it will rain floodwaters!” Panchito rattled his fingers on the table to add extra noise effects. “And the next, the snow of a blizzard! No one knows what the weather will be like! It's been said he can fry his enemies with a thousand lightning bolts!”

On the one hand, Mickey's heart was racing at such exciting potential. It sounded just like one of his mother's stories, fraught with danger and possibilities. On the other hand - “And, we're going tosteal from this person?”

“Think of it as borrowing without any intention of returning,” José quipped.

“That's why we're going to park the ship a few miles away from the city,” Goofy began to explain, pointing out where on the map. “And head inside with disguises! We'll pretend to be there for jobs – we'll offer to the prince's bodyguards!”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “Does a guy who can fire lightning bolts really need a bodyguard?”

“Probably not,” Goofy admitted. “But that ain't the point. See, all he has to do is let us inside the palace, so we can locate its weaknesses. Once we establish what we need to grab and how, we can form a proper stealing strategy. We have to prepare ourselves for every possibility, includin' him finding out who we really are and a fight breakin' out. Mickey, you handled yourself real well in that battle with Mortimer. We need that clever thinking.”

A small smile began to form on Mickey's mouth. “Gee, really?”

“But a clever head ain't nothing without a good body.” Horace countered. “Starting tonight, we all have to take turns training our little prince in combat. Swords, fists, kicks, explosives-”

Mickey looked over in bewilderment. “What was that last one?!”

“I'll take the first shift!” Clarabelle offered, proudly standing up and showing off one of her classic kicks. “I'll have him mastering every form of movement in no time at all!”

“Seriously, guys, am I going to have to blow things up?!”

“We can't hold back on this one,” Goofy went on. “This guy's even been rumored to have offed his own folks. So we know he won't show us any mercy. Once we get the gold, we're gone, we can't afford too much heroics this time around.” He began to roll the map back up. “But he's also known to have severely high taxes and collects rare treasures from any visitors. So we know the cash is there. It's just a matter of findin' it.”

Mickey still wasn't fond of the idea about taking things that belonged to other people, but he supposed if this enemy was a tyrant, it was all justified. It was a shame the first time he'd meet a fellow prince that the other guy would be a jerk, but life wasn't all sunshine and flowers. Besides, this was the kind of adventure he'd been longing for. A small part of him hoped they would be caught, just to have some kind of epic, amazing battle! He could think of some cool things to shout while ducking and weaving through bolts of lightning! That would surely set him apart from his mother. Mickey, the heroic prince, he who survived the royal row!

“Pardon,” José spoke up, a finger raised. “Instead of all this planning and training, why don't we go for something a little simpler? Do we or do we not have a genie on board? Can't we just wish for some money?”

A hush fell over the room, all eyes going to Mickey. The eager happiness on his face died, and he leaned back in his chair, playing with his fork and knife. “... I don't think she can do that. One of those rules, remember? No repeated wishes? … I asked her myself, it means I can't wish for something anyone else has. No doubt Mortimer made her use that on day one.”

Panchito cocked his head in contemplation. “But if that was true, why steal? Sure, he enjoyed the showmanship, but that seems a little too out there.”

“Doesn't matter, anyway,” Mickey cut through, gritting his teeth. “I bet she wouldn't even tell me unless I wished for it. She doesn't care about anything! I tried asking her what she wanted, I tried to be nice to her, and all she says is 'master this' and 'master that'.” Some gratitude! Some friendship! Some bond! He offered her the world, and she couldn't care less! “I even tried to wish for her freedom and she didn't bat an eyelash! Maybe her being nice to me was all for show.”

“Pretty weird show, in that case.” Horace watched Mickey, drumming his fingers on the table. “Maybe she just didn't believe you? Most people aren't that nice right away.”

“Why shouldn't she believe me?” Mickey slammed his hand on the table, making the silverware rattle. “She knows I'm a good person, she knows all I did for her and for the town! What more do I have to do to prove I'm not like Mortimer? Or is nothing I ever do going to be good enough for miss high-and-mighty over there?!”

“I wonder how old she is,” Goofy said, finally sitting in his chair, hands behind his head. As usual, his out-of-nowhere musings put an abrupt halt to any conversation.

“Captain!” Clarabelle finally sputtered. “You don't ask a lady her age! Not unless you want a fistful of teeth down your throat.”

Horace scratched his head. “She doesn't seem to be any older than Mickey.”

“But she's a magical genie, right?” Goofy shrugged, staring right at Mickey. “For all we know, she could be thousands of years old. Whoever said Mortimer was her first master?”

“So what?” Mickey countered. “So what if Mortimer wasn't her master? That just means...”

And then Mickey was hit with a revelation so hard that he felt a cold hand rip his heart out of his chest.

If what Goofy was saying was true, and Minnie had potentially other masters – tens of them – hundreds of them – all throughout the decades, there was no way Mickey had been the first to offer her freedom. It was very well possible that Minnie had believed she would be set free the first time a master had made that promise to her – and then, obviously, he'd broken his word. And then maybe another one had gotten her hopes up, only to dash them over and over and over again. The power of wishes – the power of greed – could corrupt anyone. Mickey had seen it for himself when that rich old woman went from thankful to ferocious within minutes.

Mickey dropped his knife and fork, feeling sick to his stomach, as he'd suddenly understood the real reason why Minnie had said something so heart-breaking.

I hope that you stay this way forever... and I hope I never see you again.

It hadn't been because she was worried Mortimer would hurt him. She honestly believed her power would corrupt Mickey's soul, and turn whatever niceness he had into cruelty – because she'd witnessed it herself a million times. No wonder she didn't believe him. How could she believe anyone anymore? With tears in his eyes, Mickey fled from the table, ignoring that the others were calling after him.

He ran to his room, flinging the door open. “Minnie!”

At first, he didn't recognize his own room because of how clean it was. Minnie hadn't just taken away the scrolls on the floor, she'd also made his bed, dusted everywhere, and even mopped and scrubbed. Had he been too vague on his wish? She was on the floor, watching her magic scrub with a damp rag, sweat on her face. She looked up as he entered. “Yes, Master?”

“Minnie, I'm sorry!” He dropped to his knees, and then his hands, bowing his head as deeply as his neck would allow. “I'm so, so, so sorry! I shouldn't have yelled at you! I should've tried to actually think about you!” How could he have been so blind about the girl he was in love with? Could he even call that love, if he'd been so selfish? He'd been thinking more about how she perceived him than how she actually felt! What kind of friend did that? “I know you don't believe me, but I'm really sorry! I won't ever yell at you again!”

“As you say, Master.” She sat on her knees, eyes still dull. Mickey should've expected that, but he swallowed down any anger that it brought. Anger wouldn't help anyone – but once he sat up and got a good look at her face, he grew concerned for a second reason.

“Are you okay?” he asked, seeing the sweat trail down her cheek. “I didn't mean to make you work so hard!”

“It's typical of any wish, Master.” Minnie wiped the sweat off her face with her hand. “The magic comes from my body, so using a wish takes some energy.”

In an instant, Mickey remembered the magic show, where Minnie had nearly passed out after so many wishes. “So... whenever someone makes a wish, it hurts you?”

“In a sense, you could say that. But it is the way of the genie. By now it's more of an annoyance.” Now that was a lie and Mickey knew it, and the anger came again - but not at her, but at her former masters, the ones who had conditioned her to hide how she truly felt. Minnie lowered her hands to her lap. “Do you have another wish for me, Master?”

Mickey wanted to ask how old she was, how many masters she had, but he didn't want to force the information out of her with a wish. He couldn't take that risk, now that he knew the price. If she would tell him, it should be out of her own will and choice. She already had so many rights taken from her, he couldn't bear to strip away another. But he wanted to be there for her, he wanted to be friends if they couldn't be anything more. He wanted to help her, and she wouldn't accept his help unless she believed him. He rubbed his neck, feeling that familiar scar, trying to think – but the scar gave him an idea.

“... Actually, I do.” Mickey took a deep breath, and held Minnie's in his own. “All right, Minnie. You don't believe me that I'll free you once my parents are safe. I can't blame you. Maybe... maybe there's a chance I won't be a good person when that time comes. In that case, there's only one thing I can do... It's to make sure I will free you, by not giving me any other choice.”

For the first time since she boarded the ship, Minnie's expression changed. She furrowed her brows, eyes squinting, not quite understanding what he was expressing. “What are you saying?”

Mickey looked Minnie straight in the eyes. “I wish that every time you're forced to perform a wish... I feel the exact same pain you do! And I wish that this can't be undone until you are free from the lamp!”

“What?!” Minnie exclaimed, but she barely finished the word before the magic within her accepted the commands. The golden cuffs on their wrists glowed, and then a puff of pink smoke formed around them, swirling around in a glittery tornado that spun faster and faster before striking Mickey right in the neck. He gagged, instinctively grabbing his throat, a sharp pain shooting throughout his body like a thousand tiny needles spraying everywhere. He was almost surprised that he wasn't bleeding, the agony was so terrible. But within seconds the glow and the glitter vanished, and Mickey collapsed onto the floor, trying to breathe.

“What did you do?!” Minnie shrieked, trying to yank Mickey's hands away from his throat before he accidentally hurt himself. When she did, there laid the proof of his promise – the once hidden scar was now golden, shining out like a collar. She stared at the symbol, sitting on her tail in shock. “What... why did...” Was he insane? Why would he make such a damning wish? “Take back that wish! Take it back now! If anyone else takes my lamp, you'll be doomed! Take it back right now!”

Mickey couldn't get up just yet – the pain was fading, but it had been such a doozy he wasn't sure when he'd be able to sit again. “Can't take it back,” he said between breaths. “Just said it can't be undone.”

“You... you... you...” In all her years, Minnie had never met anyone as foolish as the panting boy on the floor. She had no words for this. What was he trying to prove? He was only making things harder for himself! “You're so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! I can't believe you're so stupid!” Now of all things, Mickey was smiling. “What are you smiling about!”

“It's nice to see you back to normal.” Whatever normal was for Minnie, anyway. Besides, she was awfully cute when she was ranting. He could listen her to her insults all day long. It at least meant her feelings weren't submerged and lost.

Minnie shook, and then shut her eyes – in a puff of pink smoke, she vanished, and the smoke sucked itself back into the lamp. She needed time alone to deal with this nonsense. Fine, let him punish himself for all she cared! He was going to become cruel and greedy and evil like all the other masters she knew in her life! He was no exception, just because he was so STUPID STUPID STUPID! SHE DIDN'T CARE! NOT AT ALL! HMPH!!!

Even though Mickey couldn't get up for another hour, he considered this a victory.

~*~

“We... we hope this enough to satisfy you, your highness,” The old man said shakily, leaving his share of money on the table. His wife covered her face with her hands, afraid of what could happen.

The young man on the dark throne said nothing, did nothing, and this somehow unnerved the couple more than anything else. But the larger man besides the prince made plenty of noise as he waddled over to the table and counted the coins. “I'll be the judge of that! Let me see here... Hmm... yes, yes...” The prince's eyes slowly slid to the well-dressed man in green and red, who stroked his large gray beard as he finished counting. “I believe his highness ordered one hundred coins... This is only ninety-eight!”

“I-It's all we could afford to spare!” The man begged for understanding, clasping his hands together. “If we gave away anything else, we'd starve!”

The prince began to pull on his fingers, and the bearded man chuckled with wicked amusement. “Well, would you look at that? I think he'd prefer making your family drown than starving them. Wouldn't that be less cruel?”

The old woman wailed in horror, and the old man pulled back. “We'll find the other two coins! We swear!” He grabbed his wife by the hand and fled, not wanting to risk the prince's wrath.

When the doors slammed shut, the young man lifted his head, his voice weary. “Are they... really going to starve?”

“Ah, they're just exaggerating.” The bearded man scooped the coins back into a sack.

“I... I don't think I would've sent rain-”

“You don't know, that's the whole point.” The elder turned around, lugging the sack over his shoulder. “You're a monster, you can't control what you do. That's why it's only fair to warn them. You understand that, don't you, Donald?”

The duck lowered his head back down, looking down at his thin fingers, worn out from years of nervous pulling. “... Yes, uncle Flintheart.”

Chapter Text

Horace thought Mickey's decision was very noble. José and Panchito went to tears, and music, at the same time. Clarabelle insulted Mickey's intelligence twice, and Goofy merely gave a thumbs-up. Ultimately what was done was done, and they had to live with it. They parked their ship several miles outside the large kingdom of Taqs, and settled into their fake roles. Mickey was impressed by all the disguises they owned, and was eager to don a fake mustache until he learned the hair came from Clarabelle's braid. Pluto was left behind to guard the ship, and the group began to walk on foot. Minnie quietly trailed behind her master, still bitter at his foolish choice

With time to kill, Mickey looked at Panchito. “So I know why Clarabelle and Horace are part of the crew,” Mickey began, “What about the two of you? How come you joined up with Goofy?”

Panchito lightly strummed on his guitar. “José and I have known each other since we hatched! We are brothers beyond blood! We travel the world to see our dreams come true. And sometimes, dreams can be tougher than you think. Yet we will not rest until our futures are set in stone!”

José took out a cigar from who knows where, lightning it with a match. “The short version is, money. I wish to open my club, Panchito wants to own a farm. Both things cost a lot of cash. So we decided to collaborate – when I open my club, he'll perform, and I'll use his crops to feed my guests. Every mission we take is one step closer to getting our mutual dreams.”

“Yes! For we are the two caballeros!” Panchito shouted, then paused with a huff. “No no, it still doesn't sound right. Something's missing... I just don't know what.”

José lightly patted his friend on the shoulder. “We'll finish that lyric, Panchito! I am certain of this!”

“Of course I believe you, my friend!”
“And I trust in you, my friend!”
“You're the best friend a man could ever have!”
“Ah, but you are the even better one, when all is said and done!”

Mickey was both annoyed and amused by this camaraderie. He rather wished he could have such a silly yet tight bond with someone. But that would mean having something in common with them, and he had yet to find anyone in his unique position, save for the grumpy-faced girl behind him. Speaking of which, he glanced behind him. “Y'know, you can walk with us, instead of behind us.”

“Do you wish me to walk faster, Master?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Not every suggestion is a wish, Minnie. And stop calling me that. We're going undercover, in disguise! People will think I'm a slave owner if you call me that!”

“Well, if you wanna get technical, you kind of-” Horace began, but a swift smack upside the head from Clarabelle stopped his thought process. “Sorry.”

Minnie made a tiny “hmph”, but she did pick up the pace, walking next to Mickey while refusing to look at him. He decided it was progress, and that if she was upset with him, it was probably due to the wish he made before. Mickey rubbed the golden scar on his neck, or rather, the bandanna that now hid it. Last thing they needed was to draw attention to something strange. “I don't suppose you'd tell us if you had any dreams, Minnie?” Mickey said, his voice droll. Minnie was about to reply, but Mickey cut her off. “Let me guess – 'my dreams are whatever your wishes are, Master'!” He mimicked with a somehow even squeakier version of his voice before giving her a curt look. “Am I right?”

Minnie pouted, her cute cheeks puffing out. “...For someone who claims to care about me, you sure enjoy mocking me.”

“I wasn't mocking you, I was pointing out how silly you sound!”

“How is that not the same thing?”

Mickey held up a finger, and then dropped it in defeat. He tried to ignore Panchito and José holding up a paper scoreboard, with Minnie 1 and Mickey 0 on either side. “Fine, then, do you have dreams?”

“No. I do not.” Minnie kept her eyes forward now, refusing to make any further contact.

Mickey sighed heavily through his nose. It was sad to hear that said so bluntly – maybe she had a dream once upon a time, but cruel masters had broken those hopes. Well, that wouldn't do! “You should start thinking of a dream.” Mickey crossed his arms. “Because I am going to free you one day, and when you're a regular person, you'll have to figure out where you wanna go and what you wanna do.”

“Whatever you say, Master,” Minnie replied in the same snippy tone, still disbelieving that he would ever free her, promise or not. Just because he'd put his own life in a never-ending torture didn't mean he'd actually give up all that power. No man was that good. In time, his own greed would win out. He might even sacrifice his own parents to keep her as his pawn, and she wouldn't be surprised in the least. Her eyes moved from one crew member to the next, as if reading their sins on their backs. They were all ticking time-bombs. One could easily betray another. Friend would backstab friend, lover would destroy lover, if it meant one came out on top.

Her presence would only speed things up, she supposed. It wasn't the first time she was introduced to a group of supposed friends, who claimed to love and support one another – and every time, their gluttony would sever their bonds, ready to trample each other underfoot if it meant having the power Minnie possessed. Maybe Goofy would be the instigator, as he was the captain, maybe he felt he had a right to own whatever his crew had. Or perhaps the bickering couple would try to snatch the lamp first, before turning on each other. Love and kindness were temporary things.

No one would ever really sacrifice themselves or their own happiness to help another. No person like that existed.

“We're almost there!” Goofy called up from up ahead, adjusting his fancy hat that was two sizes bigger than his head. “So just leave the talkin' to me, Horace, and Clarabelle. We're the leaders, the rest of you are trainees. We all know our roles and what to do?”

“Yes, Captain!” everyone repeated, save for Minnie, who merely nodded.

“Good! We go in, get the info, get out. Then we return to pillage, plunder, and... um...”

Mickey raised his hand like an ace student in school. “Purloin?”

The captain grinned. “I like this kid.”

With that settled, the group walked right into the kingdom, and were instantly soaked with rain. That is not to say that it suddenly began to ran, but they literally walked into a rainstorm. Confused, the collective crew took several steps backwards until they were outside of the kingdom's borders – where there was no rain and it was bright and sunny. Then they walked forward again into the kingdom – a downpour of water and chilly wind. Backwards, hot. Forwards, cold.

“I already hate this mission,” Horace decided.

“Guess the rumors are true!” Panchito held his guitar up as a makeshift umbrella, whereas José used his actual umbrella. “The prince really can control the weather! He must be in a pretty bad mood.”

“We can handle a little rain!” Mickey beat a fist to his chest, despite shivering from the intense cold. “Let's keep going! No matter what he throws at us, we can take it! I say, bring it on!” After he said this, the rain stopped – and turned into snow. “...I gotta stop saying these things out loud, don't I?”

They walked on, huddled together in an attempt to keep warm. As they headed for the dark castle looming in the distance, Mickey could see all the houses and buildings in various states of disrepair. Just as one roof had been fixed from a hailstorm, it began to drip from rainwater. Foods at the marketplace were soiled by the hot sun, and the roads were suffering from potholes of every shape and size, making wheels impossible to use. The villagers didn't bother to look up at the group of newcomers – it was as if they never bothered to look up at anything, their heads constantly at a miserable slump downwards. Their poverty was obvious, from the ragged clothes and that most of the villagers couldn't seem to even afford new shoes. Mickey's heart ached – could they do nothing to help these people?

“Hey, guys,” Mickey whispered, keeping his voice low. “This place looks pretty bad... why don't the villagers just leave? Any place has to be better than living under this mad tyrant.”

“Life's rarely that easy, kiddo,” Clarabelle answered, rubbing her arms. “They're probably afraid of retaliation from the prince. He might see it as an insult if they leave his kingdom.”

“Or the hope's been beaten out of them so many times,” Horace added, “that leaving might not even occur to them. Whip a dog enough times and it won't even walk out when the door's open.”

Mickey felt his stomach twist into six different kinds of knots. How could anyone go on living if they had no hope in their hearts? It almost made death seem like a better option. He couldn't help but glance at Minnie, who said nothing and conveyed nothing. Saving one person had been difficult, but it'd been done. Saving an entire kingdom was bound to be near impossible, yet Mickey couldn't face the idea of simply leaving these people behind. If he really was as clever as Goofy said, couldn't he think of something? What kind of terrible person was this prince?

The castle was grand, large, and dazzlingly blue. It was smaller than Mickey's palace, but built in tighter, with less windows and a few banners hanging from the roofs with the kingdom's insignia stitched on. It even had a drawbridge and a moat that was now overflowing. No one was quite sure how to get in or announce their presence, and they stood there, puzzled – until Minnie saw something peculiar. “Is that guy taking a nap?”

All heads turned to a small balcony above the drawbridge, where, just as Minnie said, a man was napping on the border of the balcony. If he wasn't too careful, he would've fallen off. From what they could see, he was a white duck with drooping feathers, wearing only a few pieces of dull gray armor, and a fuzzy red hat on his head. He was laying on his back, hands on his stomach, snoring. A bit of snow was piling on his beak.

“You suppose he's guarding the place?” Clarabelle guessed.

“One guy, to guard the entire entrance?” Horace questioned right back.

She shrugged. “Like we said before... a guy who can hurl lightning probably doesn't need that much security.”

Horace conceded the point, and Goofy sucked in as much air as his chest would allow before shouting. “HEEEEEEEYYYY YOOOUUUU!”

The guard let out a startled “WAK!”, jumping a foot in the air and scrambling not to fall over the ledge. He found his footing, shook the snow off his body, and blinked down at who had woken him up. A few black hairs poked out from under his hat. “... Am I dreaming, or are you people really there?”

“We're really here,” Goofy replied, waving.

The guard scratched his head, almost pushing the hat off. “Huh... I thought the collections weren't supposed to start for another day. Did Flintheart move it up? Sounds like something he'd do.” He then quickly checked behind him to make sure that the named man wasn't listening in. “All right, same as always, line up, have the money out, and don't look his highness in the eye.”

Goofy shook his head. “Aw, we ain't here for that! We're here for a job! We wanna be the prince's official bodyguards! Ain't that right, everyone?” The group saluted – again, save for Minnie. “Could you tell him we're here and what we want? We promise we're cheap!”

The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by what was being presented. “Cheap is the magical word around here...” he muttered to himself, and then straightened his back. “No promises, but I'll put in a good word for you! Wait right there.” Without another word, he headed inside.

Mickey waited until the guard was gone to ask a question. “Flintheart? Is that the prince's name?”

Now it was Goofy's turn to be befuddled. “I thought the prince's name was Donald, Donald Glomgold. Flintheart's a new one... Be on your guard, everyone.”

“We're already on our guard,” Horace grumbled.

“Then be extra guarded times infinity!”

The group was about to decide where to stay while the prince made a decision, but to their surprise the drawbridge began to descend only three minutes after the guard left. When it finally landed, the guard stood there, but he wasn't alone. By his side was another white duck, but this was clearly decades older, judging by the wrinkles around his cold eyes and the heavy gray beard around his beak. This was a portly fellow too, his stomach stretching the limits of his red and green robes. He adjusted the small glasses on the rim of his beak, his circular hat slipping to a side. “Did somebody say cheap?”

Mickey began to think maybe he should've gone through with his “everyone has money” wish. Goofy took the lead once more, bowing deeply and sweeping his hand across the ground “Greetings, your... not-exactly-royalness! I am George Geef, and this is the elite team of top-notch fighters, all of whom I trained myself! We are here to offer our services to Prince Donald!” Was it Mickey's imagination or was Goofy also pretending to some have kind of hoity-toity accent?

“I'm sure the prince will be glad to have your not-expensive aide,” the old duck said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “I am Flintheart Glomgold, his uncle, and royal aide!”

In seconds Mickey forgot both his role and who was supposed to do the talking. “Wait, if you're related, and you're older, shouldn't you be the King?” Horace and Clarabelle made various “SHHH”ing gestures, although on the inside they were just as confused.

Thankfully, Flintheart didn't seem to mind the question, waving the matter away with his hand. “Oh, I'm far too busy and old and simple to rule such a vast, wealthy kingdom. Besides, if I dared to challenge the throne, I'm sure my nephew would have me zapped with lightning, frozen with snow... you get the idea.” Yet while listing the ways of his possible death, Flintheart didn't seem to mind at all, rolling his hand around and wanting to get to the next bit – a contrast to the shaking guard at his side, who was trembling at the idea of such cruelties. “Now get inside and let me show you what you'll be guarding!”

Eager to get out of the snow, the group quickly ran inside, while the guard began to work the lever and pull the door back up. As they walked away, Mickey thought he heard the guard mutter, “Good luck.”

The interior of the castle felt cold and plain, at least to Mickey. The walls weren't decorated with any paintings of past rulers, nor were any proud banners hung with the family crest. As opposed to the outside of the castle, which seemed to be large and proud of itself, the inside was small and ashamed to have anything of value or meaning on display. No fancy statues, no elegant rugs – but this wasn't to say the walls were untouched. There were cracks and damages made, entire slabs of concrete shattered to a side. Mickey gulped, and he could hear several crewmates doing the same. The prince they were about to face was a powerful, terrifying one.

Flintheart stopped walking in front of a pair of golden doors that, unlike everything else in the castle, was decorated from top to bottom – this time with shimmering jewels so bright that they almost blinded the pirates. Once everyone was finished rubbing their eyes, Flintheart proudly patted the door handle. “This is what you'll be guarding! Day and night, night and day, I want one of you to be here at all times, making sure no one gets in or out! Only I am ever allowed in here! Anyone else is a no-good, rotten thief!”

Goofy knocked on the door to check that it was indeed made out of solid gold. “Well, gee, what about the prince?”

Flintheart raised an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“How's he supposed to get in and out of here? Ain't this his room?” Since they were guarding him?

“Of course not, you nitwit!” Flintheart snorted so hard his spectacles almost flew off his beak. “This is the royal treasury! That's the most important thing in the entire kingdom! All of the kingdom's money, valuables, and riches are stored in here. And I want all of you guarding it! Understand?”

There was a moment of silence out of sheer disbelief. The basic outline of the plan had been to stake the place out and find the treasury, and then build up a layer of trust so they could steal it. Naturally, no one had been expecting all of those extra steps to be swiftly cut out. Was Flintheart just that desperate, stupid, gullible, or greedy? Or all of the above?

“I changed my mind,” Horace mumbled, “I love this mission.” Clarabelle elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up.

“Well, uh, of course we understand,” Goofy finally replied, nodding his head and encouraging the others to do the same. “Don't we, everybody? We'd be glad to guard your treasury! We can start taking shifts tomorrow, after we settle down here and divide up who goes when.” Which would give them ample time to rearrange their plans. Mickey was starting to feel disappointed at how easy this all was. At this rate, they could just grab whatever they could carry under the cover of night and vanish without a fight. Shoot, he wanted to at least see what this menacing, tyrannical prince of storms looked like!

“I suppose you should meet our menacing, tyrannical prince of storms,” Flintheart mused out loud while stroking his bushy beard, making Mickey jump. “We don't need him thinking you're a bunch of invaders and frying you all to death with lightning bolts. Not again.” He smirked at the last line, seemingly taking pleasure out of the quivering it brought in the crew. “Right this way, to the throne room! Brace yourselves! No looking him in the eye or addressing him by name, lest you invoke his wrath!” He walked on, rubbing his hands again. “Ah, this will help me greatly! Now I can count my coins without having to worry about anyone bothering me...” Not to mention now he could tax seven more people out of every cent they had! Why wouldn't he want more people he could rob? He would have to pay them, yes, but in the end, they'd wind up paying three times as more just to live here.

The doors to the throne room were far less fancy than the ones to the treasury – these were plain wood, carved many years ago, and whatever decorations had once been in the wood had faded away with time. As the group came closer, they heard a rumble of thunder within the room. José jumped into Panchito's open arms, and Mickey instinctively grabbed Minnie's hand, which she didn't fight. Flintheart chuckled darkly. “Sounds like he's in one of his moods again... but then again, when isn't he? I'm sure we can make it through this and keep all of you alive...for once.” Again, a note he just had to have, and he made sure to watch everyone's nervous reactions for it.

Flintheart cleared his throat, and began to push the doors open. “Your Highness! I have great news!” Remembering his words of warning, everyone in the crew ducked their heads so they wouldn't look the prince in the eyes. They all stared down at the plain marble floor, not saying a word as Flintheart began to explain who they were and what they were there for. Yet as scared as Mickey was, his curiosity was eating away at him. He had to know what this fellow looked like, he'd regret it forever if he didn't take one single look!

“... And so, now no one will even think of taking a glance at your valued treasury! Consider it safe and sound from now on!” Flintheart finished for the moment, paused, and then coughed. “Unless, of course, you don't want your hard-earned money to be safe and sound.”

The room was quiet, save for the thunder that was perhaps in storm clouds they weren't allowed to look up at. For a moment, Mickey thought that the thunder was the prince's voice... until he heard a very soft murmur.

“Was...was our treasury really in danger, Uncle Flintheart?” It was a voice of quiet confusion, of doubt and worry, and it certainly didn't sound like anything that would come out of a man who enjoyed slaughtering his own people with his powers. Mickey couldn't stand it any longer – he looked up.

There on a throne that was far too large for him sat a boy that couldn't have been any older than Mickey. His webbed feet couldn't even touch the floor, the throne was up too high. This white feathered duck was pulling and tugging his fingers, making uncomfortable popping noises every so often. Unlike his uncle, who dressed in red, green and black, this boy wore elegant blue stripes that mirrored the slats on a prison window. His buttons were hanging off loose threads due to tugging on them so much, and he was thin, astonishingly thin, making Mickey think that if he were ever to see the prince without those royal robes, he'd see royal ribs instead. His feathers were long and overgrown, and an effort had been made to tie them up in a ponytail with a blue ribbon. Above his head was a tiny gray storm cloud, no bigger than a bed pillow, rumbling with thunder.

Then Mickey did the one thing he was told not to do – he looked at the prince's eyes.

He looked at the saddest pair of eyes he'd ever seen in his entire life. There were heavy bags under them, as if he'd seen more in a decade than anyone should their entire life. His eyes were ocean blue – not that Mickey had ever seen the ocean, but in all the stories his mother spoke of that contained the ocean, that was the color he saw. They were so sad. They were so tired. They weren't scary at all.

Not even when Prince Donald realized he was being stared at, and stared right back. Donald blinked. Mickey blinked. Looking at someone's eyes is a common every-day occurrence, yet for the boy on the throne, he looked incredibly surprised to have someone doing exactly that. They probably would have been in an eternal staring contest if Minnie hadn't suddenly yanked Mickey's arm. “Master, what are you doing?!”

Flintheart's head snapped back, eyes and tone full of fury. “What – You! You dared to look his royal highness in the eyes?” He pointed an accusing finger at Mickey, who couldn't exactly deny it. “How dare you offend him!”

Donald opened his mouth, “I didn't-”

“See? See how much you've angered him?! You could get us all killed! You put us all in danger from this monster!” Flintheart pushed Mickey backwards, making him stumble out of the room.

“I-I didn't mean anything by it!” Mickey stammered, but he was able to get one last look at Donald before Flintheart shoved everyone else out of the room and slammed the doors shut – and Donald didn't look angry. He was hanging his head, his finger pulling now faster and tighter. When the doors were closed, the thunder became twice as loud, and there was a crack of lightning within, illuminating the space around the wooden doors.

“I take back the taking back,” said Horace.

Flintheart wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. “That was a close one... another second more, and we'd have all gone to meet our maker! You can never spend too long with that thing, or else you're done for!”

Goofy placed his hand on Mickey's head, forcing him to bow forward. “Aw, he's really sorry about this, Mister Glomgold! He won't ever look at the prince again, he gives you his word... don't you, huh?”

“Uh, yeah...” Mickey was conflicted about several things, but for the sake of mission, he placed his hands together and completed the bow on his own. “I am so deeply, terribly, amazingly sorry for having dared look upon your master's face without his utmost permission.” He glanced at Panchito and José who gave him mutual thumbs up for all the additional humility tossed in there. “Please give my lowly, humble service another chance and allow us to guard your amazing, astounding, incredible vault that belongs to you, oh Master Flintheart Glomgold... our really, really cheap service.”

Minnie gave him a look, silently warning him about mocking her again – it hadn't been Mickey's intention, and he regretted it quickly. But Flintheart's mighty ego was appeased. “Hmmm... well, we did luck it out and make it through in one piece, so I'll let it slide. But unless you're suicidal, stay clear of Prince Donald! Keep your eyes on my money!”

Once more, everyone saluted, save Minnie. “Aye aye, sir!”

Goofy did one more silly bow before turning on his heel. “As I said, we'll settle in and start out shifts tomorrow. You won't be disappointed, not at all!” Goofy continued to promise and guarantee successes as loudly as he could until the entire group had left the castle, and the drawbridge was soundly closed behind them.

Mickey sighed in relief – only to narrow duck and dodge Horace's punch and Clarabelle's kick. “H-Hey! What's the big idea?”

“What's the big idea?!” Clarabelle repeated through clenched teeth. “I thought curiosity killed the cat, not the mouse! You almost got us in big trouble!”

“You save your questions in your head, like the rest of humanity does when life gets too weird!” Horace poked at his own skull for example. “Swallow it down, close it up, and pretend like your life isn't a waking nightmare six days out of the week!”

Ignoring Horace's clear projecting of his own issues, Mickey straightened up. “I'm sorry! I am, really! You know I didn't want anyone to get hurt! I... I just...” He sighed, unable to explain his thought process.

Minnie couldn't help but huff. “If you wind up killed, that certainly won't free me.” Not that she doubted he would while he was alive, but maybe a little reminder would keep him from doing stupid stunts like that. If genies could die of heart attacks, she'd have died right there in the throne room. Not that she cared about Mickey's well-being. Because she didn't. Nooo.

“All insults and warnings aside...” Panchito clasped his hands together. “What did he look like?”

“Yes!” José heartily agreed. “I also want to know! How ugly was he? How scary was he? Spare no details!”

Mickey faltered, and then put his hands in his pant pockets, walking away from the castle and back towards the ship – there was no snow or rain now, only a light wind. “He... he wasn't scary at all, actually. He was a small fella, like me. Real skinny. Real...real sad.” It hurt just to put that description out there. He didn't think that kind of misery was possible. Surely no matter whatever Donald had been through could measure up to Minnie's years of anguish and hopelessness, but if Donald was really as cruel and mean as it was said, perhaps there was a reason for it. It didn't excuse his actions, but maybe it would explain them. For gosh sakes, Mickey was tempted to give the duck a hug.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Clarabelle warned, wagging her finger. “Actors are all over the world! You gotta train yourself to look past the face and see the real person inside! Why, when people look at me, they only see a drop-dead beauty, cursed with good looks and delicacy. No one would ever guess I'm capable of kicking a man through a wall.”

“I can think of several deceiving things about those sentences,” Horace replied, and had he not moved in time he would have been a man kicked through a wall.

Goofy rubbed Mickey affectionately between his ears. “They're right, in their own ways. It takes more than one look to know a person. Takes time and conversation. But right now, those are things we can't afford. We gotta revise our plans and get ready to take as much money as we can. No distractions, no heroics. We have to take the most valuable treasure from the kingdom.”

“Yes, captain,” Mickey replied loyally, but he didn't look up. He knew that, as per usual, Goofy was right about a lot of things. One look at Minnie certainly hadn't told her entire story. He never would have guessed she was a sad girl with a history of broken promises. One look at the arguing couple wouldn't tell you how deep their love was for one another. The singing birds had dreams of a casual future. The clumsy captain was capable of great feats. And Mickey... well, what was Mickey? The Son of Scheherazade, and nothing more. Right now, he was exactly what the first look told you about him. So it was entirely possible that for all of Donald's sad expressions, he was still a cruel tyrant that tormented his people.

Yet as Mickey overheard a little girl crying to her mommy about how hungry she was, and the mother begging the child to understand that they just couldn't afford more food right now – Mickey couldn't fathom Donald being the reason for their suffering. He parted from the group temporarily to buy an extra loaf for the small family, his mind returning to the throne room over and over.

Minnie watched him silently, recalling how tightly he had clenched her hand before. She wondered if he remembered doing that.

~*~

Mickey didn't stop thinking about Donald's eyes during the return back to the ship, nor when Goofy went over the second version of the plans, nor when discussing back-up plans, nor during dinner, nor during night as he slept, and so on and so forth. He didn't tell anyone about how much it was bothering him, although Minnie at least could clearly see it on his face. Since none of her masters ever wanted her advice or listened to it, she kept quiet about it. Mickey would get over this nonsense sooner or later, once he understood how much was to be gained from this plan. He'd forget about the sad boy and move on with his life. Just as he'd do the same to everyone else he ever cared for.

The first shift of actual guard duty was to be taken up by Panchito, José, and Mickey, which automatically meant Minnie was also part of the team. Horace and Clarabelle would sneak around the castle to navigate all its weak points and the rest of its security. Goofy, in an act no one really understood, stated he needed to do some “investigating” in the kingdom itself. Since getting a straight answer out of him that didn't further confuse you was too time-consuming, everyone left it at that.

The group of four returned to the castle early in the afternoon, welcomed by the same guard, who they learned this time around was named Fethry. “So, basically, you're just going to sit on your butts and daydream,” he said as he led the foursome to the treasury doors. “Which is also what I do all day long! Although I get away with sneaking in a nap, or two, or seven.” He chuckled quietly, adjusting his red hat again. “No one in their right mind would ever attack the castle, what with the prince's powers, so I pretty much get paid to do nothing... it's not a fun job, but Flintheart says a castle without a guard is like a drawbridge without a moat.” He shrugged, not entirely understanding the meaning of that either, but didn't care too much to complain about it.

If Clarabelle or Horace was around, Mickey would have stuck to the plan to keep quiet – but he knew by now that Panchito and José were far more relaxed about these matters. This would also be handy for a plan that Mickey devised all by himself. “If we're not really necessary, then why do you think Flintheart wants us around?”

Fethry rubbed his finger and thumb together. “Money's the name of his game. I never got the obsession with it...why have so much if you never spend it? What else would you do with such an ocean of coins – swim around in it like a porpoise?” He laughed again, finding the idea absurd.

At the treasury doors, Fethry saluted goodbye, and Mickey waited until he couldn't see Fethry to launch his idea into action. “All that money... I never really thought about what to spend it on back home. And I already know what you two plan to do with it... a bar and farm, right?”

“The best bar in the whole world,” José corrected.

“And the best farm in the whole world,” Panchito added.

Mickey nodded once, pressing his hands together. “I see... I was just wondering, who do you think has the more important dream?”

“José, of course!” Panchito slapped a hand to his chest. “The world needs more singers and dancers to lighten their moods during their darkest times! His is a dream of beauty!”

“How can you say such a thing, when your dream is so beautiful?” José gasped, leaning back in shock. “The world needs more food, isn't that clear? The world would starve without you, my best friend in the whole wide world! Your dream is clearly the one that is the most important in the whole world!”

“Nonsense, nonsense, nonsense, I will not hear it! Yours is clearly the better one between us!”
“Why must you say such things, my Panchito? You are the sole pure heart out of us all!”
“You will make the world a better place, my José! You must see the truth in this!”
“The only truth I know is that you're the best man for the job, I won't hear otherwise!”

If Minnie was a younger genie whose own dreams hadn't been trampled on repeatedly, she would have found this adoringly charming. But she wasn't, and now she was rolling her eyes so far in her head she could've knocked herself over – which drew her to the fact that Mickey had vanished. “Oh, no.” What was that fool thinking now? She slipped around the corner, as the birds continued their adoring argument.

Mickey had used all of the stealth he learned in his life to escape a palace – it was a little strange to use those same skills to keep himself inside one. If he could get just a minute alone with Donald – just a minute! - then he'd know Donald's true character and his heart could be settled. Then he could go along with the rest of the crew's plan and not be so distracted. Sure, there was a chance he could be struck by lightning, but... all right, there was no good way to end that sentence. But dang it, he had to try! Defying Goofy's orders had ultimately worked out with Minnie, so maybe lightning would strike twice! …He really needed to stop thinking about lightning striking him.

Just as Fethry had said, there was very little in the way of security. There were servants he could spy in other rooms washing the windows or cooking up a meal, but they were constantly glancing around, afraid to do the wrong thing and incur the prince's wrath. Looking at those deep cracks in the wall, who could blame them – except... Mickey paused for thought.

He hadn't seen a single injured person during his stay here. No villager had a single frost burn, or lightning mark, or anything resembling what someone would suffer from the direct impact of a weather attack. Fethry was in good health, as was Flintheart. Mickey frowned, and moved on, pressing his ear to every closed door to find a certain sound – the sound of thunder. After several tries, he did hear an odd sound on the other side of a door, but it wasn't thunder.

“Brbrbrbrbr. Shhhh. Yo ho ho.”

That was Donald's voice, all right. Mickey stepped back to look at what he'd been leaning against – this door had definitely been damaged through the decades, with frozen bits, sears from lightning, sogginess from rain. He leaned in to listen again, and found the door pushing open – it wasn't locked? And so Mickey saw what was going on inside.

Donald was on his knees, pushing a wooden toy boat across the cold marble floor, making boat and water noises with his mouth. “The waves are really rough today... splash! Splash!” He knocked the toy back and forth, giggling in amusement. It was the sort of thing one would expect from a five year old – not someone who was deep into his teens. The entire room was as damaged as the door, with his bed and furniture destroyed from various weather scenarios. Speaking of the weather, the windows were open, and clear sunlight was lighting up the room, highlighting the specs of dust in the air.

Donald tossed the boat up in the air and caught it. “We're safe! Another lucky land! Yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum!”

That settled it for Mickey. There was no way this was a tyrant. He inhaled deeply, and then, in a struggle to make his voice as calm as possible, spoke up. “Hello.”

Donald froze where he was, and stared right at Mickey as if he was a brand new type of creature. It took a few seconds for his memory to catch up. “... You're, um. You're... the treasury guard.” A clear beat of thought. “You're not guarding the treasury.”

“My friends are watching over it.” Mickey jabbed a thumb behind him. “I just wanted to come say hi.” He then smiled. “That's a really nice boat you got there. You like sailing?”

The stunned prince said nothing, as if he'd never encountered an actual civil conversation before and was unsure how to respond. Yet the sunlight remained. He looked down at his toy, then back up at Mickey, back to the toy, and then back to Mickey. “I've never gone sailing...but...I've read about it. It sounds really amazing. The wind in your hair, the speed capturing you, the open world all around...I've always wanted to be on a boat.”

Mickey began to walk inside of the room, only stopping when Donald clenched up. “What's the matter?”

“I...You. You shouldn't be here.” Donald lowered his head, hugging the toy close to his chest. “I'll wind up hurting you, like I do to everyone else.”

Here came the question Mickey had wanted to ask since they first “met”. “Do you want to hurt me?”

Donald's head snapped up, surprised. “Of course not! I don't wanna hurt anybody! But I can't control myself... that's why you shouldn't be here. I could hurt you without trying. It's always been like that, ever since I was born.” His eyes fell onto his beloved boat. “...I should never go sailing. I'd just ruin it for everyone. I'd probably summon up a typhoon or a hurricane and drown the whole crew.” The sunlight was beginning to fade. “That's why I never go outside... I don't want to make things worse for the kingdom than they already are. If I want to be a good ruler, I have to stay inside, forever.”

The urge to hug the poor guy was rising intensely. Mickey's heart sank – all this time, all the pain and suffering Donald had caused was unintentional? If the rumors were true and he killed his own parents, it was accidental! He couldn't imagine living with self-loathing that deep – wait. What was he thinking? Of course he could imagine it – no one knew self-loathing quite like Mickey did, as the Son of Scheherazade! Had that been why Mickey was so determined to know the real Donald – because he'd seen himself in those sad ocean eyes?

“Well, what if I only stay for a little while?” Mickey offered. “I bet you get really bored in here. Can I play with you?”

Donald was quiet, the child and teenage emotions swirling around in a torrent. He wanted to play, didn't want to hurt, wanted to play, didn't want to hurt. “... It has to be a really little while.”

“The littlest while.” Which Mickey refused to define. “Let's boat race! I bet mine is faster than yours.”

“...Where is your boat?”

Mickey untied the lamp from his belt and held it up proudly. “Here we go! The S.S. Minnie! It's the fastest boat in the whole wide world.”

Donald's beak twitched – a possible smirk was forming. “Oh? Then you haven't met the Super Swimmer. It's faster than anything in the galaxy.”

“Only one way to find out!” Mickey ran ahead of Donald and Donald chased after him, the two of them making silly boating noises, ducking and weaving around each other in a ridiculous fashion. It was childish, but then these were a pair that didn't have children to share those childhoods with. They jumped on the bed and rolled around on the floor, they pushed their “boats” on the floor and imagined islands to visit, with Mickey borrowing a tale or two from his mother. A light breeze entered the room, as soft as a grandfather's hand on a beloved child's head. They laughed and sang, forgetting about the world beyond the windows. They were happier than they'd been in a long time.

At one point they were so exhausted from their playtime they had to sit. Donald flexed his fingers – it'd been a while since he tugged them. “So, what's with the name? Minnie? Is it because it's a small boat?”

Mickey saw no harm in the truth. “Nah, it's named after a girl.”

“Oooh. So, your girlfriend?”

Mickey's cheeks began to redden. “Well...No, not exactly...It's kinda complicated...I mean, I do like her, and she's really beautiful, and she's got this way of making you feel super special, and she's so nice to children, it's really adorable, but she's...how can I put this...”

“Glaring at you?”

“Yeah, that's it. She's kind of got an attitude problem.”

“No, I mean, is she that girl that's glaring at you from the door?”

Mickey jumped out of his sandals – there at the doorway stood Minnie, her own cheeks turning an interesting shade of pink. Her eyes fell on the lamp, and Mickey sheepishly began to tie it back to its belt. “I was taking very good care of it,” he said quickly, almost adding “I was absolutely not treating your house like a toy,” before remembering that probably shouldn't be shared.

Minnie huffed, and then entered the room, bowing her head and remembering not to make direct eye contact with Donald. “I apologize for my Master's behavior, your highness.”

“Master?” Donald repeated. “Are...you his slave?”

“It's very complicated,” Mickey said again, nervously tugging at the bandanna on his neck. “Donald, this is Minnie. Minnie, this is Donald.”

“And this is Minnie taking her Master back to his place before he gets us all in trouble again.” Minnie grabbed Mickey by the arm and began to drag him away.

Donald began to wave again. “It was nice meeting you, Mickey! Come play again!”

“I sure will, pal!” Mickey said before he was yanked fully out of the room, with the doors closed.

Minnie grabbed Mickey by his robes and pulled him in close. “You gave him your real name? You hunted him down all by yourself? What were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”

Mickey grinned. “Sounds like somebody cares about meee.”

Minnie sputtered before letting Mickey go, turning around swiftly. “...Forgive me, Master. Of course your actions are just. I am merely a servant who adheres to your will...even if it's completely suicidal and idiotic.”

“Aw, relax, will you?” Mickey laughed, his hands behind his head. “Now that I know Donald's a good guy, we can all relax! We were worrying over nothing! Maybe once I rescue my parents, we can swing back around here and help him out. We could even take Donald out on the flying ship! I bet he'd really like that!”

Minnie glanced at Mickey. “Not every story has a happily ever after.”

“My mother would disagree, as you very well know,” Mickey said as he walked on.

Minnie blinked at Mickey's back, puzzled by what he just said. What did his mother have to do with anything? Was she the one who raised him to be so foolishly optimistic? Didn't sons usually take after their fathers? Every day, Mickey was proving to be a stranger and stranger person.

For you see, unbeknownst to Mickey, he had found one of the incredibly few people who didn't know who Scheherazade was.

~*~

Later that night, Flintheart was readying himself to visit Donald's room. The truth was that Donald's duties were few and far-between, being more of a puppet figure than any kind of ruler. This way, Donald got all the blame while Flintheart got all the riches. All Flintheart had to do was tell him where to go and where to sit in order to get things done, which was what he was about to do when something disturbed him – the silence from Donald's room. No thunder, no lightning, no rain, no wind.

Frowning, he entered the room and saw Donald humming as he was lightly cleaning his toy boat with a wet towel. He looked up as Flintheart entered, and smiled. “Good evening, Uncle Flintheart! How was your day?”

Flintheart was instantly angry. Smiles didn't instill fear in people, and even worse, smiles didn't bring forth terrifying weather. “I'm more curious about how your day was, nephew. You stayed inside like you were supposed to, weren't you? Can't have you go out there and hurting people.”

“I stayed inside... and I made a friend!” Donald proudly boasted, as if this was the grandest accomplishment anyone had ever made. “A real, actual friend! Can you believe it? My first friend! And I even met a girl too! I feel like a real adult now. I bet they'll even come back to play!” He paused in his pride, noting his uncle's sour face. “They... they can come back to play, right? As long as I don't hurt them?”

Flintheart clicked his tongue to his cheek, and then smiled coldly. “Why, of course your friend can come back to play, your highness. If that's what you want, who am I to argue? You are the prince, after all.”

“Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” Donald clicked his heels together in glee. “I can't wait! I've got so many questions I wanna ask Mickey, and-”

“I just want to know where to bury him after you kill him.”

The prince stopped in place, and the cool night air went frigid. Donald opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I...I didn't hurt him, I didn't hurt either of them, I really didn't.”

“Everyone gets lucky once in a while,” Flintheart said with that sickly smile still on. “But how long does your luck ever last? If you want to risk his life by having him over, that's on you. You are free to be as selfish as you want.”

Donald began to shake, curling in on himself. “B-But it was just a little while...And he was okay...I didn't mean... I didn't want...”

“How long will a little while last the next time? You can't control yourself, Donald. You know that better than anyone. Is your precious playtime worth having an innocent life die?” Right on cue, the room began to darken, and a gray cloud began to solidify on the ceiling. “Are you really that cruel? Are you really that awful? How can you say he's your friend when you're okay with hurting him?”

Tears began to form in Donald's eyes, and his grip on his toy began to weaken. “Stop it, please...”

“And when the rest of his group come along and demand an explanation as to why their beloved crewmate was murdered, what will you tell them?”

“Stop it...”

“How can you trust yourself not to kill your friend, when you murdered your own mother and father in cold blood?”

“I SAID STOP IT!”

A crack of lighting shot down from the cloud, striking the toy boat in Donald's hand and shattering it into pieces. Similar strikes hailed down all across the room, but Flintheart managed to step out of the room just in time to avoid being a victim. Once the strikes had stopped, Donald stared down at the broken toy in his hands, watching the pieces fall to the floor.

Flintheart stood in the doorway, pleased that everything was back to the way it should be. “Monsters don't have friends, your highness. You'll remember that, won't you?”

Donald choked, and fell to his knees, silently cursing his own existence. As always, his uncle was right. Donald had been a fool to think he ever deserved happiness. Monsters didn't deserve happiness. He silently wept, and all around the castle the storm clouds cried rains just as heavy. If Mickey knew what Donald was capable of, he'd hate him too, no doubt. Mickey would never be his friend.

Flintheart closed the door behind him, sighing in relief. That had been a close one. “Mickey, hm?” he said out to himself. “That sounds familiar...” He'd have to look into his books after another money swim. Donald only had that brief moment of joy when that crew of bodyguards arrived – it had to be one of them. Maybe the troublemaker who had looked up.

If this Mickey wanted to be so friendly, Flintheart would use it to his advantage. Maybe after all these years, it was time to prove to the world how dangerous Donald was. Perhaps he could even make the whole world feel threatened, and they'd pay him for protection! With a harsh laugh, Flintheart walked on, devising a new scheme.

The rain poured on, thanks to the real monster of the Taqs Kingdom.

Chapter Text

It'd only been one day since Mickey had befriended the troubled prince of storms when Goofy announced that they would strike in the early evening. They had to get into the castle, grab the most valuable treasure, and then make their getaway. They couldn't afford to do anything else – which was still not firmly cemented in Mickey's head. How was he expected to just leave Donald as a miserable wreck and the kingdom equally despondent? There had to be something that could be changed before they left, and Mickey was determined to find a way.

He hadn't told any of the crew what he'd done with Donald, and thankfully Panchito and José were so enthralled with each other they hadn't really noticed he left in the first place. Goofy was giving out the orders of the day, and had just decided that the last shift they would have at the royal treasury would be taken up by Horace and Clarabelle.

Mickey's hand shot up like an eager student in class. “Can I come too? Please?”

Goofy glanced up from his chair and his book – he'd been borrowing some books from the town's library, though there hadn't been too much to take. Due to all of Donald's weather changes, many of the books were ruined. When asked why he was doing this in the first place, he merely shrugged and said he was curious. About what, he wouldn't elaborate, and the crew quickly decided it was just Goofy being Goofy. “You sure, Mickey? Yesterday was a long one, it's like you just got back. Ain't you tired?”

He was, and he hadn't slept much either. “No, I'm fit as a fiddle!” He thumped his fist to his chest. “C'mon, I can handle it! I need all the experience I can get.” As he continued to beg, Minnie eyed him suspiciously. No doubt he was going to try something utterly foolish again, and for what? A horribly misguided sense of right and wrong? Well, he'd learn for himself that being good didn't wind up with rewards. If something were to happen, he'd throw Donald to the wolves to save his own skin.

“Aw, let the little guy come along!” Horace agreed, having woken up in a good mood that somehow managed to stay with him all day. “Me and Clarabelle can teach him a few tricks of the trade while we're there!”

“He has been picking up on his nightly combat lessons pretty quickly,” Clarabelle said with a glimmer of pride, and Mickey shyly smiled.

Goofy glanced at Mickey with an eyebrow raised. Wheels appeared to be turning in his head, but no one could ever guess in which direction they were going. Finally he made a decision. “Well, all right. But just stick to the plan, and everything will be fine. Remember – we're there to steal the most important, most valuable treasure this kingdom has.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” Mickey, Horace, and Clarabelle saluted before heading out. Mickey's pride was higher than it'd ever been before – Clarabelle thought he was improving? That was news to him, considering he still felt slow and awkward during their training sessions. But she had no reason to lie about such a thing, and he kicked his heels before climbing down the rope from their floating ship. Maybe someday he could thrash a few baddies in front of Minnie to make her swoon – but when they were on solid ground again and he turned to face her, she was aggravated, not admiring. Clearly there was something on her mind, and so he waited until Horace and Clarabelle were far enough ahead so that they could speak privately.

“Yes, I'm going to do it again,” Mickey answered the unasked question. “And no, I don't care about all the ways you think I'm stupid. Minnie, if you'd seen him the way I saw him, you'd know he's a really good guy! We're friends!”

“My Master thinks he's very clever, does he?” Minnie huffed, crossing her arms. “Tell me this – does Donald know his friend is trying to rob him?”

Mickey made a long “Uhhh” noise until he ran out of air in his lungs. No, of course he hadn't told Donald that the only reason they were there was to steal from him, and he hadn't exactly made any plans to tell him. There really didn't seem to be any nice way of putting it. But it was kind of inevitable at this point, wasn't it? At this rate, Donald would think Mickey only became his friend to make the theft easier, and there was no way that Mickey would allow that to happen. There had to a way to get both the money and Donald's happiness. He chewed on his lip, twisted his face, and rocked his head all around, as if trying to physically force an idea into his head.

“Why don't you just wish his powers away?” Minnie offered, her hand out and open. “Then you can stop worrying over him and just take the money.”

“No,” Mickey immediately shot the idea down. “I am not doing anything like that to Donald without his say-so. He deserves the chance to make his own choices without being afraid of what will happen.” Mickey had a feeling Donald's choices had been few and far between his whole life. “I appreciate you trying to help, but I know what I'm doing.”

“You know how to get yourself in trouble, that's all you know how to do,” Minnie grumbled, her frustration growing. “Of course, why listen to me? I'm just your genie. If you don't want to hear me, that's easily fixed.” With a puff of pink smoke, she vanished into her lamp.

“Aw, Minnie!” Mickey held up her lamp. “Don't be like that!” But nothing he said would bring her out, and he sighed heavily, putting her home back on his belt. He wondered if she could hear anything while in the lamp, but that would have to be an experiment for another day. Her broken heart would take a very long time to heal. Maybe if she was friends with Donald, it'd smooth over another scar. Yes, that seemed like a fine idea – Donald and Minnie needed friends, so why not be friends with each other? He'd properly introduce the two of them this time, and maybe even tell Donald the truth about Minnie. Nothing built a good friendship like trust.

With a confident plan in mind, Mickey had no worries about getting away from Clarabelle and Horace. After all, they argued so much that it would be easy to slip away. All he needed was to wait for a heated argument... that... he finally began to notice hadn't happened all day. His eyes widened – Horace's good mood! Dang it all! If Horace stayed this chipper all day, he'd never argue with Clarabelle!

As they neared the castle, Mickey cleared his throat. “Gee, Horace,” he began, trying to think fast. “You've been pretty happy all day. Did something nice happen?”

“I was kinda wondering the same thing,” Clarabelle added. “Usually you look like a sad-sack who thinks the sky is falling.” Speaking of which, it was raining.

Horace took no insult at Clarabelle's description. “Well! I got to thinking – there is really no way this plan can fail! As long as we keep away from the prince and stay near the treasury, we can rob it and flee without a single fight! No monsters, no epic battles, no big speeches about how money is power, no cliffhangers, we're set.” He clapped his hands twice as the drawbridge began to lower. “I am stress free today!”

“Aw, I'm happy for you, honey.” Clarabelle kissed Horace's cheek and hugged his arm. “Why, you look ten years younger without all those worry wrinkles!”

Mickey slapped a hand to his face – of all the times to feel happy and lovey-dovey with each other! How was he supposed to incite an argument when these two were snuggling like newlyweds? There was also a trickle of jealousy because of course he wanted to snuggle like newlyweds with Minnie, but that train of thought wasn't going to lead to anywhere helpful. His good mood continued to plummet as they walked inside towards the treasury, with Fethry oddly nowhere in sight after he lowered the drawbridge.

As they began to take their proper places, Mickey scratched his head, still trying to think. “Do all your other missions go off the rails so much?” he asked with genuine curiosity. Until he could figure out another way out of there, he might as well try to learn something.

“Oh, all the time,” Horace said with a laugh as he leaned his back against the treasury vault. “You can only predict people's behaviors so much. Inevitably, something or someone does something unexpected, and you have to rush to adjust. But not today! Today is as smooth as a baby's bottom.”

Mickey was struck with a brilliant idea, and he grinned devilishly, having to admit that even though this would be kind of mean, it would also be kind of funny. “You two ever think about having kids?”

Horace suddenly sputtered so much that everything within a three inch radius of him was covered in his spit. Clarabelle was equally flustered, turning so red that even the tip of her braid appeared to be curling up. It took ages for either of them to form anything resembling a sentence, with Horace making the first attempt. “Well – I – That's – that's a difficult matter to-”

“I wouldn't say ever – never – it - “ Clarabelle was flailing so much one wouldn't be surprised that her flapping arms would give her flight. “We, we just, we have to... find our teacher! Yes, that's right, that comes first and foremost!”

“But, y'know, we never- I mean, rarely – sort of – never did discuss what we'd do after we found him, and it's already been a couple of years – pretty sure it's been years – not that there's any rush-”

“No! No rush at all! It's – you know – kind of – eh – um-”

As expected, they were so discombobulated about the sheer mention of a baby they had no idea Mickey had run off. He made a mental note to remember this in case he ever needed to distract the two of them again, as it was highly effective. But that was for the future, and he needed to think of the present. Now, which door had been Donald's again? It was a struggle to remember the exact place, so once again he placed his ear on every door to try and listen for Donald's voice, confident that he hadn't forgotten anything in this plan.

Except he had forgotten a crucial detail, only remembering it when it spoke his name behind him.

“Tell me, Mickey, is that how you guard treasuries in your land?”

Mickey froze where he was, ear still to the door. He wasn't one for expletives, but a good number of them were being screamed in his head. He slowly began to turn around, facing Flintheart Glomgold and two extremely tall and extremely burly guards that Mickey was absolutely certain had not been in the castle yesterday. Mickey swallowed hard, laughing nervously as he backed up against the door. “There's a good explanation for this... and as soon as I can think of one, I'll tell you.” No doubt Minnie was having an epic “I told you so” moment in her lamp, Mickey thought.

“That's an unusual name, isn't it?” Flintheart asked, rubbing his hands together and grinning wickedly. “But a familiar one too. I knew I had heard it somewhere, so I checked my histories about the world around us... To think we were honored by having a royal presence here!”

Mickey tried to think of a lie that could get him out of this situation. “Nooo, Mickey's just a common name where I'm from! Like Bill or Bob!” He was not good at lies. “I mean, come on, what would the Son of Scheherazade be doing here?”

Flintheart's smile became impossibly more vicious. “I didn't say you were the son of anyone.”

Those expletives were getting dangerously close to Mickey's mouth. “...I'm not gunna be able to talk my way out of any of this, am I?”

Flintheart laughed deeply, a hand on his large belly. “I don't know why you're here, and frankly I don't care! You're my ticket to even greater riches! Holding the esteemed Son of Scheherazade hostage will give me endless wealth! Once I knew who you were, I decided to get rid of Fethry and get some extra... assistance.” He snapped his fingers, and the armored guards began to advance toward Mickey.

Clarabelle hadn't been exaggerating, Mickey was learning about combat if only little by little. But it was enough to temporarily get him out of the hot zone – as one guard lunged an arm towards him, Mickey grabbed the arm, spun around it like a gymnast on a bar, and landed on the other side, making a run for it. The guards and their leader would be on his heels on seconds, making it impossible to turn back and get Horace and Clarabelle's help. Not for a second did he think of wishing his way out of this, which meant there was only one other person who could help him – and he recognized their door.

“DONALD!” Mickey shouted at the top of his lungs, pushing into the door – but this time it was locked! Panic striking his soul, Mickey furiously pounded on the door. “Donald, let me in! It's me, Mickey! I need your help!”

Donald's soft voice spoke up. “Go away.”

“Donald?!” Mickey tried slamming the door with his fists harder and faster. “Donald, please, let me in!”

“Go away,” Donald said again.

“I need to talk to you! Please, Donald! Just let me explain some things! You're my friend, I need you now!”

“I SAID GO AWAY!” There came such a thunderous sound that it rocked the entire castle, and Mickey saw flashes of harsh lightning behind the cracks of the doors. Mickey had no idea that Donald was wallowing in a pit of even deeper self-loathing than before, still affected by Flintheart's words. He couldn't let Mickey in, that would just be helping him towards death. The best way to help Mickey would be to never see him again, no matter how much he wanted to see the only friend he'd ever made. The conflict of these choices made the storm worse, with howling winds and flooding rain, both inside the room and out in the kingdom. Of course he wanted to open the door, he wanted to let Mickey inside, he wanted to hear every word Mickey had to say and to play and to dance and to hug but these were not things monsters were allowed to do. Every want and need of Donald would ultimately lead to someone's death.

With tears running down his cheeks, Donald looked at the broken window. It hadn't been the first time he considered ending everything to make life easier on everyone around him. Flintheart was the only reason he hadn't – because – because even if Donald was so terrible and awful and monstrous, surely even his own blood would miss him. It was a weak strain of delusional hope, but it was all Donald had. Flintheart was all Donald had. He didn't have Mickey, couldn't afford to have Mickey, he would kill Mickey, and he slapped his hands over his ears so he would stop hearing Mickey screaming his name. It was his own fault for letting Mickey inside the day before, for playing with him and giving him false hope. It was his fault. Everything was his fault, always, always, always.

The guards caught up to Mickey, clamping a hand over his mouth, and dragged him away. The storm raged on, harder than ever, and every so often the castle shook. No one had yet to notice the cracks in the foundation, nor how they were growing.

~*~

Back on the boat, Panchito was on the crow's nest, using a telescope to see how bad the weather was getting in the kingdom. Though the ship could magically fly itself, a little adjustment to the sails could help improve their speed for a quick getaway. José was working up the masts to do just that, listening to Panchito's warnings. Both of them assumed Goofy was readying their arsenal, or training in combat, or anything that wasn't reading more of those moldy wet books.

Naturally, Goofy was still reading more of those moldy wet books. The entire kingdom had given up on the written word, and thus no one expected anyone to read anything – and Goofy was suspecting this had been planned. He'd finally found just what he'd been looking for, although the worn-down pages had made for quite the challenge. Something had been bugging him ever since he first heard Flintheart's name. He hadn't told the other members of the crew, since it'd been only a hunch.

He tore out the pages of the book and laid them flat on the table, moving them around until he finally found a connection. Pluto was watching at his side, making curious noises as to what the master of his master was doing. Goofy was glad for the company. “Y'know, Pluto, you think the royal family would want to keep a better record of their own family tree... But here it is, sitting in a plain library, damaged beyond belief. Kind of like the history wasn't worth remembering.” Pluto woofed, more or less agreeing.

Goofy moved one page closer. “Donald seems to around Mickey's age... let's say oldest at twenty, youngest at fifteen. If he did kill his folks, that'd be a sad state of affairs, for sure... but it'd also mean he's got wacky time-traveling powers too. Because the only siblings Flintheart ever had died over forty years ago. If they did have a child, it'd have to be way older than Donald is. Flintheart must have done some tricky smooth-talking to get the kingdom to buy his story.”

Pluto whined quietly, confused, and Goofy couldn't blame him. “I don't know what exactly is going on, buddy, but I think there's a lot more going on here than meets the eye. I think it's time we started heading towards the kingdom.” To this, Pluto yipped. “Aw, I'm sure they won't mind a little change in plans! Like Horace, he never complains when a plan doesn't... uh... gee.. well, go according to plan!” Having unknowingly told a gigantic lie, Goofy rolled up his sleeves and began to walk away from the table. “I may not know what story Flintheart's been cooking... but I always know how to write my own.”

~*~

Mickey had been tossed into what he assumed was the library of the castle, judging by the endless shelves of books that lined the room. There had been lit candles, but they were snuffed out by the wind coming in from the open balcony far off in the back of the room. Maybe once upon a time, a kinder ruler would sit on a chair to enjoy a good read while basking in the sunlight. But any imaginings of a happier time would have to wait until this unpleasant one was dealt with. Mickey's wrists had been tied together with rope, and he was thrown into a chair, sitting over a small table. The guards held Mickey by the shoulders, and Flintheart approached the table, rapping his fingers on the wooden surface.

“Now, you're going to be a good boy and obey me,” Flintheart warned, still wearing that sickly sinister smile, “Or I'll have the rest of those bodyguards, or whatever they really are, thrown in the dungeon... or even better, I'll have Donald deal with them!”

“Donald wouldn't hurt them!” Mickey squirmed – alas, he hadn't been taught how to worm his way out of ropes and tight fingers yet. “Besides, you can't hold me hostage! My parents were kidnapped!”

“Ha! A likely story!” Flintheart laughed, slapping the table. “No amount of silly lies is going to get you out of here! Your parents will pay me every single coin they have to see you alive... but they'll want proof I even have you first.” He cupped his beak in thought. “Question is, what body part should I chop off to send to them as proof? The tail is tempting, but I'm betting those big ears are a big signature.”

Mickey's tail wrapped around his leg, and he clenched up as hard as he could. “When Donald finds out what you're up-”

“Oh, Donald, Donald, Donald – forget about that thing!” Flintheart waved a hand, growing more annoyed with every mention of that name. “Whatever scheme you were pulling on him was useless! He'd kill you as soon as look at you. That's just the kind of creature he is. Why, I'm doing you a favor, keeping him away from you.”

Although fear had taken a massive hold of Mickey's heart, it was suddenly knocked out of place by sheer anger. “You... YOU! You're the one who did all this to Donald! You made him think he was hurting people, but he hasn't! He doesn't want to hurt anyone, but you keep telling everyone all these lies!” He fought even harder now to get out of the bodyguard's grasp, and now they were having a harder time keeping him down. Fury pumped through Mickey's blood, making the muscles in his body pop. “You're his family, and you made him feel so worthless! How could you do that him?! You – you – you heartless - ”

Flintheart merely brushed down his beard, getting bored by the theatrics. “It's becoming quite clear you don't have any intention of cooperating... that is unfortunate. Do you have any idea how expensive it is to clean blood off of any surface? I'm already wasting too much hiring these buffoons!” Said buffoons pouted, hurt. “Oh, enough, I'm not paying you to have feelings. We'll start with the left ear. Given how he doesn't listen when his elders are saying anything important, I don't think he'll miss it.”

Mickey had to make a decision in that moment, and while he was reluctant to do so, he was learning that life wasn't made up of easy instructions. As he saw the guards begin to remove the swords from their scabbards, he suddenly began to yell. “I-I-I wish-I wish you two didn't know how to use swords!”

There was a tiny puff of pink smoke from the spout of the lamp, and around the guard's heads. They paused, baffled as to what it was exactly they were holding. Mickey would have relished in that victory, but now that he had chained himself to suffer as Minnie did, a pain went through his body that so surprised him that his head fell forward on the table – another ow – and he wound up falling off the chair – yet another ow.

“What are you two idiots doing?!” Flintheart snapped, slamming his hands on the table. “I gave you an order, now cut him up!”

The first guard held up his sword, stumped. “With what? This? What is this? Do you know what it is, Hugo?”

“Not a clue, Hooft! They look pretty dangerous... why do we have them again?”

Mickey knew his quick-thinking plan wouldn't last for long, so he had no choice but to work through the pain and roll into a sitting position, even though every joint in his body begged him to be still. Once on his feet, he ran, limping towards the halls of bookshelves, with Flintheart shouting at the guards to give chase. As now exhausted as he was, Mickey couldn't afford to use another wish, or it would put him down for the count. But his clever mind had another idea, needing just another body to work with as he ducked around a corner. “Minnie, this isn't a wish, but I would sincerely and truly appreciate it if you could come out right now!”

In one second, Minnie poofed to his side, unsure if she wanted to strangle him for getting himself into this mess or throw her arms around him in relief that he was alive. “If you don't want me to grant you a wish, what do you want me to do?”

“Right now? PUSH!” He suddenly threw his back against the nearest bookshelf, and Minnie copied his cue, pushing as hard as she could along with him. The bookshelf easily toppled over, hitting the next one, which hit the next one, a continuous domino effect until the last one fell on top of the bodyguards. They groaned, unable to get up.

“Say, Hugo, maybe we ought to stop taking jobs from mysterious villainous masterminds.”

“I agree. Maybe we should move somewhere else. How about the jungle, Hooft?”

Minnie knelt down, trying to untie Mickey's wrists. “We need to get out of here, Master!”

“Not yet!” Once Mickey's hands were free, he whipped out his sword, ready to use his anger as strength. “I'm not leaving until Flintheart's paid the price for what he did to Donald!”

“Master, while normally I'm sure you could best an overweight elderly man... you're shaking like a leaf. And I don't think it's your nerves.”

Unfortunately, Minnie was right. Though Mickey had accomplished much, the effect of his last wish was still wracking his body in pain – his legs were quaking, and he was barely able to hold the sword above his waist. Flintheart may not have been in the best shape of his life, but he could still pick up a sword that the guards abandoned and flash it with grit and outrage. He began to advance toward the mice, grinding his teeth. “This is the end of the line, you little brat! I am Flintheart Glomgold, and I got my power and my riches by being smarter than the smarties, tougher than the toughies... and getting rid of anything standing in my way!”

Mickey began to back up, one arm out in a useless way to defend his lady love. Minnie leaned in, her heart racing. “Are you all out of ideas now?”

Mickey swallowed. “...I'm kinda starting to wish this was one of my mother's stories... cause this would be the part where one of the heroes bursts in for the save.”

“Uncle Flintheart!”

In a plot twist no one in the room saw coming, the door was slammed open by Donald, who ran towards the other duck as fast as his little legs would take him. “Uncle Flintheart, there's – there's a flying ship outside, in the kingdom! We have to do something!” He then stopped, pausing for a brief second to realize that his uncle was holding a sword. “Why do you have that?” Another second to realize the extra company. “Mickey? Minnie?” And a third second to realize that whatever was going on, he had clearly interrupted something terrible. His mind began to short-circuit as he didn't know which question and which problem was the most urgent, since there now seemed to be a lot of both.

Flintheart was meeting his limit for younger boys interrupting his work. “What are you doing out of your room?! Go back in there at once, before you kill us all!”

“B-But Uncle Flintheart, the people could be in danger! We have to warn them!”

“The only thing they're in danger from is you!” Flintheart snarled. “Now get lost before I-” THUNK! Mickey didn't have the energy to battle in an epic sword fight, but he did have the strength to chuck a book at Flintheart's head, which even knocked off his hat. Flintheart reeled back, eyes swimming, only grateful that Mickey hadn't thrown a dictionary.

“You don't get to talk to my friend like that!” Mickey snapped.

Donald gawked, trying to understand the situation. “I told you to leave!”

“Yeah, well, your uncle didn't really give me a choice about that one way or the other... but I'm not leaving my friend behind!”

“Stop calling him that!” Flintheart demanded once his hat was back in place and his eyes were focused. “He doesn't have any friends! A thing like this would just kill anyone who would stupidly care about him! If you had a single working brain cell, you would have left this kingdom after you survived your first encounter!”

As expected, another cloud began to brew in the library, the cloud already storm dark. Donald began to pull on his fingers, breathing heavily. Mickey defiantly took a step forward, despite the booms of thunder from above. “You're the one who convinced Donald he was a menace to his people! You're the one controlling the kingdom and using Donald like a puppet! I won't let you do it anymore!”

“I'm the only one who has any kind of control over this creature!” Flintheart struck his sword out, ready to fight if it came down to it. “Don't you listen to him, nephew. I'm the only one you can trust, because I'm the only one willing to risk their life by staying with you! No one else would want to be with you!”

The storm darkened, and a hard rain began to fall from the multiple clouds appearing in the library. Mickey wanted to yell at Flintheart that he was wrong, that he was lying, that he didn't know Donald – but in the end, who needed to know that most? Mickey looked Donald in his ocean blue eyes, seeing the tears forming in them. This wasn't just a battle against Flintheart's diabolical schemes. “No,” Mickey finally said, placing his sword back in its scabbard. “Donald... I trust you. And if I have to risk my life to prove to you that we're friends... then I'll do it gladly!” Now he began to walk towards Donald, unarmed and steady.

Donald jerked, and the storms began to intensify tenfold, lightning striking down on several fallen bookcases. Flintheart scrambled away, trying to find a place to hide, and Donald was so overcome with paranoia that he began to back up towards a wall. “Stop it! STOP IT! I'm going to hurt you! DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!” Why was Mickey doing this?! Was he trying to get himself killed?

Yet Mickey walked on, swallowing his breath. Of course he was afraid of the continuous lightning firing all around him. Minnie was screaming, demanding he stop this, demanding he come back, but he would not turn around. Would it actually take death itself to stop him? She became crazed with fear, trying to throw soggy books at his back, screeching that he'd be breaking his promise to her, that him dying wouldn't release her, she would just be trapped within the lamp until another greedy pair of hands found it. But soon she had to stop, thrusting her hands to her eyes. This wasn't just to avoid seeing his charred corpse – but to make sure she didn't cry.

Because if she cried... that would make things so much worse.

“STOP IT!” Donald was yelling, pulling on the feathers on his head. He didn't want to see Mickey's death by his own hands, and now it seemed inescapable. Why did Mickey think he wouldn't be hurt? Donald had murdered his own parents, surely the same fate would befall Mickey! Donald couldn't be controlled, he couldn't be stopped! He was a monster, a selfish, cruel, evil monster! Monsters needed to be alone! Monsters didn't have friends! “PLEASE! I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU!” Please, please, please, if mercy was an actual thing that existed in this worthless world...

Flintheart watched from beneath a fallen bookshelf, beginning to grin. This would actually turn out to work in his favor. Once Donald killed this foolish boy, it'd make sure Donald would never defy Flintheart's orders again. Plus, he could still chop up the body and send it to Mickey's parents for that ransom. With one death, he'd cement his power forever, and get the payoff of a lifetime! Let that mouse walk to his doom!

… Although even Flintheart had to admit the shaking underneath his feet was troubling. Sure, when Donald had his fits, the castle would shake, but it had never been this bad before. Ah well, it was probably nothing. Maybe he could rehire the guards as construction crew and work in some extra taxes from the kingdom.

The storm raged harder and harder, making it almost impossible to see due to the torrential rains. The lightning strikes became quicker and brighter, smashing into every corner of the room. Donald sobbed, his back hitting a wall. “Please... I don't want to hurt you... Don't be my friend! Forget you ever knew me! I'm not worth this! I'm not worth anything at all!” He cried, his tears lost in the rain. “Why am I alive?!”

A question Mickey had asked himself over and over and over since the fateful day he'd gotten the scar on his neck. A question that now made sure Mickey would never stop walking towards Donald, even as the lightning was so close it boomed in his ears. His black fur was now drenched from the rain, his clothes wet and saggy. His skin tingled with static, and with every slow breath he could smell the rain. It became harder to hear Minnie, to hear and see anything, as the lightning and thunder deafened his ears and blinded his eyes. He was now right front of Donald, and he reached out, and Donald screamed inwardly, I DON'T WANT TO HURT HIM -

Then came a strike of lightning so bright it blinded everyone in the room. Minnie couldn't breathe. He was dead. He had to be dead. No one could survive that. Maybe this had been a most merciful death, as he was now gone before she saw the greed in him take over, as it had taken over all her masters. It was supposed to be comforting – yet she could find no bliss in this. She didn't want him dead. No, no, stupid master, stupid foolish master, stupid foolish INSANE MAD BOY, WHY, WHY, WHY, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME NOT YET -

But when Minnie's sight returned to her, Mickey's name was still on her cuffs.

The lightning had missed Mickey by one, single, solitary inch. But it'd made all the difference in the world, and now he was holding Donald in what was easily his first hug. Donald was so stunned that his bones went to jelly, slumping into Mickey's arms. Mickey lightly patted Donald's back. “There, there,” he said with a soft voice, remembering what his mother would say to him as child whenever he was upset. “Everything's okay. I'm here. I'm here.”

Minnie lost all the feeling in her legs and fell to her knees. What... in the world had she just witnessed? Had Mickey actually risked his life for another person? For a boy he knew less than a day? Just – just as he'd done for her? With nothing to gain and everything to lose, he had done it – and lived? Who was this boy? This went against centuries of understanding the frail morality of mankind. Had she been wrong... or had she found one in a million...?

No. No that couldn't be, this was luck, this was -

“What is this?!” Flintheart came out of his hiding place. The rain and lightning was dying, but the castle continued to rumble. “You – don't think you've won anything! He's still a monster, he could still kill you! He's killed countless people! You think a little hug makes up for all the blood he's shed?!”

Mickey whipped his head around, speaking without thinking. “Aw, shaddap! I wish you'd just tell the truth!” He hadn't realized he literally wished for it until he lost the last remaining bits of energy in his body and fell down with a silly THUD. “...Gotta remember to buy a thesaurus...” There had to be other words for “wish.”

But it had been an actual wish, and now Flintheart's beak was shining gold. “What the – what did you do to me? Why am I shining like the money I've stolen from the kingdom?” He paused, hearing what he just revealed. “... Why. Did I say that?”

Donald balked. Just when he thought this day couldn't get any weirder... “Uncle, you've been stealing?”

Mickey blinked, and then rolled on his stomach, wanting to enjoy this moment, now that he understood what he had inadvertently done. “Say, Flinty, has Donald actually hurt anyone with his powers?”

“No, he hasn't hurt anyone!” Flintheart said before yelping and slapping his hands on his beak. “What am I saying?! Why – why can't I lie anymore?”

“What?” Donald gasped, struggling to comprehend what was being told. “But how... you said I've been hurting people all the time! That I couldn't go outside because I'd hurt them more!”

“It was all a big fat lie so I could manipulate you, and make the kingdom cower in fear, so they'd do anything I said!” Even when Flintheart tried to shut his beak with his hands, he still forced himself to speak, much to his own horror. “Oooh, you little... undo this! Undo this right now!”

Minnie came over to help Mickey sit up, with Donald continuing to reel from these revelations. “All... all this time, I thought... but... what about my parents? I killed our family, didn't I?”

Flintheart dug his fingers into his beak, quivering, shaking, but it still came out all the same. “You're not a part of my family, I stole you from your parents when you were a baby! When I heard about your powers, I banished your real family from the kingdom and stole you so I could turn you into the ultimate tool!”

A hush fell over the room, save for the dying rain from the storm clouds. Donald's jaw hung open, unable to believe what he was hearing. Mickey was certain that if he had any strength left in him, he'd have torn Flintheart limb from limb. As it was... “In about a half hour, I'm going to kick your butt!” he declared, hoping it sounded somewhat threatening.

Donald fingers began to curl into fists. “You... everything I've believed... everything I've been afraid of... it was all a lie? Just so you could have more money?” The storm began to kick up again. Donald had been so afraid to be angry that he doesn't recognize he was angry. “You took me from my family? You made me believe I killed them?” Now he began to advance towards Flintheart, his whole body feeling hot. “You were going to torture me for the rest of my life?! YOU RUINED MY LIFE!” He grabbed a fistful of Flintheart's robes, and the lightning came down all around them, threatening to come in closer. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS ME?!”

Never did Flintheart wish he could lie more than this moment. “Because I don't care about anything except myself! And because of that – PLEASE DON'T KILL ME OH PLEASE OH PLEASE!”

“WHY SHOULDN'T I?!” Donald snarled, shaking with untapped rage, and now the castle was rumbling so hard Minnie fell into Mickey's lap. “Why shouldn't I become the monster you kept telling me I was?”

“Because you're better than that, Donald!” Mickey shouted, one weak arm stretching out to his friend. “I know you are!”

Donald was tempted. He was tempted with every fiber of his being to translate the years of pain Flintheart had given him into something more physical. But... what good would that do? It wouldn't make Donald feel the happiness Mickey had given him for that brief moment of time playing boats and pirates. The storm began to quiet down once more. “...Where is my family? My real family?”

“I have no idea,” Flintheart said, and even without the magic of the spell he might've admitted it. “Once I sent them away, I never bothered to check where they went. They know their baby was taken, but not by who. They could be anywhere in the world by now.” He winced, waiting for the kill – but Donald merely dropped him.

Minnie helped Mickey to his feet, and he tried to stand on his own, though Minnie held onto his arm just in case. Donald nervously approached them. He was so unused to looking people in the eyes that he kept darting back and forth between the two mice's eyes. “I... well... thank you, Mickey.”

Mickey smiled. “Aw, what're friends for?”

Donald would have started the hug this time, but there was still one or two unanswered questions that only now came to his mind. “Hey, wait a second! The floating ship! We still have to do something!” As if on cue, a gigantic shadow began to fall on the balcony – there was the ship, with several ropes rolling off to help the crew back on.

“To make a long story short,” Mickey said, wiping sweat from his brow, “we actually came here to steal treasure, and that's our ticket out of here.” A rope was dangling close to the balcony.

Donald stared. “Are you seriously saying you're... pirates?”

“Out of everything that's happened in the past couple of minutes, that's what you're having trouble believing?”

“...Fair point.” Considering what Donald now knew, losing some money seemed vastly unimportant. “Does this mean... you're leaving?”

“That's right,” Mickey said in an cheery tone. “I was told to steal the most valuable treasure from the kingdom of Taqs, and then get out of here.”

“I... I see.” Donald was upset to have this friendship gone so quickly, and lowered his head. Having never really said goodbye to anyone, he wasn't sure how to do it now. He didn't want to do it now, and it hurt his heart. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to find a way that would make it easier – and then he found himself being dragged by the wrist. “What – hey! What are you doing?”

Mickey glanced back, eyebrows raised. “Weren't you listening? I'm here to steal the most valuable treasure from the kingdom of Taqs. So let's hurry!” Minnie stared at her master with wide eyes, and it was in this moment she felt an odd stirring in her chest. Seeing his unbreakable compassion was making her feel... something. It was strange and deep and had no name, yet it wasn't unwelcome.

It took Donald several seconds to understand what was being conveyed, but when he finally did, he laughed so merrily that fresh tears fell from his eyes. He ran as fast as he could, catching the rope – Mickey was still too tired to do it himself, and had to be helped by both Donald and Minnie, and they all climbed up, each of them smiling and laughing like children let out after school – even Minnie, who would go on to deny it later. They could spy Horace and Clarabelle climbing up as well, carrying sacks of stolen loot, both of whom were ready to give Mickey an earful for his deception.

As for Flintheart, he managed to find his footing, and howled at balcony. “Fine, I don't need you! I'll find a new way to get all the money I want! I always come out on top!”

That's when the floor gave way and he came out on bottom. It turned out that having constant stormy attacks inside the castle was destroying the foundation of the castle itself, and this last horrendous storm had been the last straw. The entire castle fell in on itself, with the guards and servants running out just in time. When Donald was safely aboard, he watched the castle's dust flying into the air and could see his bedroom falling into pieces. It had been a terrible home – but a home all the same, and there was an ache in his heart, similar to the pain a bird might feel upon seeing its cage destroyed. There was no going back now. Goofy, none too surprised to see a new member on the ship, was already placing a new map on the enchanted ships' wheel. Pluto raced out to meet Mickey, but Mickey was staying with Donald, an arm over his friend's shoulder to let him know all would be well.

It was a sheer miracle that Flintheart survived with only blood, bruises, and a broken bone or two. But survive he did, and when the dust settled, he pushed the broken bits of wall off of him, laughing madly. “See? NOTHING STOPS FLINHTEART GLOMGOLD! I'll weasel every single coin out of these villagers with a brand new scheme!”

That was then he realized the entire village had gathered around the broken ruins of the castle, and they'd also heard every word he said. “...Uh. And by weasel, I mean – like how I stole all of your money throughout the years!” He made a yelping noise not unlike a chipmunk realizing it was facing a python. Now he was so scared by all the glowering faces he couldn't shut up. “W-wait a minute, I'm not the one you should be mad at! Be mad at Donald – even though I lied to you all and he never actually posed a threat to anyone! I just used him to continuously steal all your money!” The sound of cracking knuckles echoed everywhere. “No, no, no, I can explain! I can explain how I purposely made you all terrified and miserable! I AM NOW WETTING MYSELF IN FEAR!”

Suffice to say, henceforth the Kingdom of Taqs decided to exchange monarchy for democracy.

Chapter Text

Mickey would never call himself a patient person, but he was currently waiting calmly in front of Clarabelle and Horace's room with a smile on his face. Panchito and José were at his side, struggling to be as composed as Mickey was and failing, judging by their incessant tapping of feet and fingers itching on Panchito's guitar. Minnie was napping in her lamp – at least, that's what Mickey assumed she was doing, since he didn't see any other purpose for being in there. He definitely wouldn't have guessed Minnie was rolling around trying to handle all the confusing feelings and questions swirling around in her mind.

“Almost done!” Clarabelle's voice called out from inside. “Why, you won't even recognize Donald when I'm done with him.”

“It's not that big a difference, for crying out loud,” said Horace, who was no doubt earning a smack from his wife. Donald could be heard chuckling quietly, which made Mickey pleased beyond measure.

Ever since Donald had first climbed onboard, he had followed Mickey around like a baby bird imprinting on its mother. Mickey hadn't minded at all, happy to show Donald all around the ship and properly reintroduce him to everyone. Donald had been nervous to express any of his natural feelings, out of fear for his powers, but with every passing day he allowed more and more of his real self to emerge. It had finally culminated in him timidly asking Clarabelle for a favor, which she cheerfully obliged.

“And...there! What do you think, Donald?” Clarabelle asked.

A moment of silence followed, and then the doorknob twisted. Donald opened the door and stepped into the hallway, revealing the “big change” - Clarabelle had snipped away his ponytail, and smoothed down his feathers, giving him a much more humble and natural look. It highlighted all the other changes that had taken place since his arrival – the bags under his eyes were gone, and now his stomach was fuller, since he'd been given proper meals and attention. Mickey mused that Donald now looked more like a handsome prince than he did when he thought he was royalty.

“What do you guys think?” Donald asked, scratching his cheek shyly.

“It doesn't matter what we think,” Mickey replied, a hand to his heart. “What matters is what you think, Donald! This is your life now, after all.”

Donald took a moment to consider this, and nodded. “In that case...I like it! I kinda feel more free. Like a burden's off my shoulders! And I'm going to wear different clothing too! No more tight, frilly, fancy stuff! I'm even going to choose my favorite color and everything. I'm a whole new man!” He proudly put his hands on his hips, ready to strut his stuff, when he realized Panchito and José were staring at him dumbly. “...What's with them?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “Probably something very silly. Watch yourself.”

Panchito suddenly slammed his hand downwards, creating a loud chord with his guitar, then pointed up in a dramatic fashion. “José!”

“Panchito!” José called back, holding his umbrella out in the same manner a knight would brandish their sword.

“Long have we searched this world for the very thing that has been missing from our souls!”
“Yes, we who are two, we have been incomplete! But we could not tell what we lack!”
“But you who understand me so deeply, you now know what I know, and so you know now!”
“I know now and now know more than anything else I ever known!”
“Can you put a name to this feeling in my heart, the one that calls out in this moment?”
“Of course I can, for I feel it in the very depths of my soul! Say it, my friend, say it!”

Donald was about to ask what in the world they were going on about, when Panchito latched himself onto Donald's left arm. “This can only be... love! Our third caballero!”

José snatched the right arm. “Love and love only! I implore you, dear Donald, to be with us forever and ever!”

Donald's entire face began to redden, and the sunlight that was pouring through the windows began to intensify to a blazing degree. “Wuh-wuh-WHAT ARE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT?!” Oh, this was the feeling called embarrassment.

“I think they like you,” Mickey said mildly, by now used to the bird's bizarre antics.

“We love him!” Panchito agreed, pressing his cheek to Donald's. “Come, we shall drink and be merry and make you a part of our life forevermore!”

“We shall sing songs and dance and introduce you to everything about this world we live in!” José took the other cheek. “We shall be your constant companions, your loyal servants, your wingmen! … See, it's funny, because we're birds.”

Donald, who had never heard a genuine compliment in his whole life, was wholly unprepared for the instant adoration thrust upon him. He covered his face with his hands and ran down the hallway, with the two nutjobs giving chase. “WAUUUUGH!”

“Look at how fast he goes, José, already bragging about his superior speed!”
“Praise be unto Donald, for he is mighty and amazing in all he does!”

Horace finally poked his head out of the doorway. “Oh, that's going to be fun to adjust to.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Mickey chuckled nervously, unsure if he should help or not. “Well, at least they won't constantly be asking for stories from me anymore.” He had been delaying that every chance he got, knowing he had nothing in his head that could compare to his mother's marvelous imagination. “I just hope Donald's emotions don't crash the ship before we land. How long until we reach Khade Town?”

With the crew having to adjust to another member, especially one with potentially destructive powers, Goofy had deemed it necessary to make a stop at nearby town to get extra supplies. “Should be less than an hour!” the captain himself declared, walking down the hallway, having just barely dodged the parade of birds that were now running up and down the ship. “We should be done in a day or two, maybe even shorter if we don't run into any distractions.”

“Like Mickey picking up another friend,” Clarabelle continued, giving Mickey a small smirk.

Mickey crossed his arms defensively. “It's not my fault we keep running into people who need our help! Besides, Minnie and Donald are going to help us out in my journey to get my parents back. Maybe we could even find another helpful person in the town!”

“Look kid,” Horace walked out of the room. “I'll admit, so far your knack of chronic hero syndrome has worked out for the better... but it's not always gunna be that way. Sometimes we can't save everyone, and sometimes not everyone deserves saving. You gotta be ready for people to take advantage of that big heart of yours.”

“I think I can take care of myself pretty darn well.” Mickey turned his head away. Shoot, he'd already been in some epic battles and used his strength and smarts to get out of them. He could take on any challenge that headed his way! And even better, his victories had nothing to do with him being the Son of Scheherazade. His heart would never steer him wrong! He was the hero of the story, and the hero was always right!

“We shouldn't run into too much trouble,” Goofy interrupted, trying to stop an argument from occurring. “It's a pretty small town... the only notable thing about it is a shrine to some gods from the north. Other than that, it's your average, run-of-the-mill kinda place. So we probably won't find anyone in life-threatening danger or folks with magical powers or villains with evil schemes to take over the world.”

“Boy, wouldn't that be nice,” Horace groaned.

“Don't be such a coward, Horace!” Mickey held his chin up, and began to head back to his room, full of confidence and swagger. “We can take on anything that comes our way! I ain't afraid of anything!” If he had heard this line of dialogue from one of his mother's stories, he would have immediately assumed that the hero of that tale was going to eat his words by the story's end. But now Mickey was drunk on his own spirit, unable to conceive his own failings. He was the hero who rescued the genie, who freed the prince of storms!

What could the world toss at him that he couldn't handle?

~*~

The ship “landed” a few miles outside of the town, anchored in by small rocky mountains. Once again, Pluto stayed behind to guard the ship, and the rest of the crew was split into groups. Panchito and José insisted on showing Donald around, and Donald allowed it if they stopped singing for several seconds. Goofy, Clarabelle, and Horace would be the second group, and Mickey and Minnie would be the last group – although Horace objected to this, insisting Mickey should stay with him, due to his attitude.

“I don't need a babysitter,” Mickey insisted as the groups walked into town, the birds already going in a different, loud direction. “Tell 'em, Minnie, didn't I do great at Donald's kingdom?”

Minnie gave him a curt look. “Is that a wish?” She had quickly settled back into her snide routine, not wanting to entertain the warm, weird thoughts the last adventure had brought her. Okay, so, Mickey was a decent enough fellow, but that just meant his darkness was hiding deeper than most people's did. He was not an exceptional, extraordinary being. Sure, maybe he was the tiniest bit clever, and perhaps the smallest bit generous, but in the end he would be the same as all her other masters. Not that she cared when this happened. Because she didn't. At all. Just like she didn't care how much Mickey was so-called “in love” with her, which he wasn't, he just liked her looks, and not her personality, because genies don't have personalities, they are tools, and so by that logic, Mickey didn't really love her and so Minnie really didn't care SHE ABSOLUTELY DID NOT CARE SO STOP TALKING ABOUT IT.

Mickey rolled his eyes, oblivious to Minnie's inner nonsense. “Thanks, Minnie.” He would have explained further, but his big black ears picked up an odd sound.

It was something the others didn't pick up on, especially Horace. “Kid, I'm just trying to look out for you.” He closed his eyes, drawing upon years of experience. “You've been cooped up in a palace all your life, so you don't know the cruelties of the world! In a year's time, I bet you'll be thanking me for all my help. All you have to do is... he ran off while I was talking, didn't he.”

“Yes, yes he did.” Minnie pointed to the cloud of dust that had once been Mickey.

“Kid's gunna age me twenty years,” Horace groaned.

“Aw, let's just go shopping like we planned!” Goofy insisted. “We gotta buy some lemons so we don't get sky-scurvy.”

As Clarabelle yelled at Goofy for the tenth time that sky-scurvy was not something that existed, Minnie took it upon herself to look for her wayward master. What had distracted him?

The rapid sound of footsteps, that's what – Mickey had weaved himself through an open alleyway, and that's when he caught the origin of the sound. Three burly, tall, masked men were chasing a young woman who was carrying a wrapped bundle in her arms. Startled villagers ducked out of the way, frightened by the display.

“Get back here!” One of the men shouted, full of anger and spit. “There's nowhere you can run!”

Mickey instantly decided he knew what was happening – those three bullies were trying to rob that woman! So much for peace, quiet, and boredom. Looks like it was time for the Son of Scheherazade – no, Mickey the Hero, to write another exciting chapter! He looked around the area, trying to think of a solution – as much as he wanted to leap into the heap of battle, he didn't like the odds of one against three. The entire group was coming up, and if he didn't act fast, they'd all pass him.

What could he do, what could he use? He quickly surveyed the area – a humble food market, full of yummy fruits and vegetables, such as bananas, apples, and oranges – round oranges! Mickey ripped off a satchel of coins from his belt. “Hope this'll pay for everything!” He shouted to the shopkeep who had probably hidden inside by now, and he tossed the satchel inside the building – before taking out his scabbard and hacking away the legs of the fruit stand, causing it to crack and break, sending the oranges spilling into the street.

The timing had been perfect – the woman managed to avoid the spill, but the three men now found themselves tripping and rolling over the mess beneath their feet.
“Hey!”
“Whoa!”
“Dude, I JUST washed my robes this morning!”

While they tried to regain their balance, Mickey dashed ahead to the woman's side, having an idea for one more trick. “Here, this way!” He grabbed her wrist, which is when she finally noticed him, giving him a surprised, puzzled expression. He pulled her into another alleyway, spun her around, dipped her low, and took off one of her pointy yellow sandals, and then chucked the shoe across the street. Once the action was done, he held up a finger for silence, while the woman blinked at him. Mickey would later realize she had been awfully calm all the while.

The trio of attackers managed to finally find their footing, catching up to the alleyway. The leader of the group stopped them, pointing at the shoe. “Look! She must have gone this way!”
“Excellent finding, bro-ski. Don't worry, we'll find her!” said the smallest of the group.
“Only when we find ourselves, can we find another,” said the largest of the group.

They then took off ahead, believing they were right on their victim's tail. Mickey waited until he could no longer see them to let go of the girl – to be frank he wasn't sure how much longer he could have held her, given that she was two heads taller than he was. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he could get a good look at her.

She was a pretty thing, he supposed, the kind of prettiness that other men would find beautiful but simply not Mickey's type. Her long black hair was tied up in a high ponytail with bright orange flowers, and a pair of golden earrings hung in round circles, rocking back and forth whenever she moved her head. Her deep blue top had yellow lining, exposing her pale arms that apparently could carry heavier things than one would think, given how large the bundle in those arms was. Her blue dress had noticeable slits that revealed shapely long legs. Curious dark eyes studied him, and she finally smiled, curling a lose hair behind her small ear. “You saved my life!”

Mickey placed his sword back in its scabbard. “Aw, it was nothing.” He replied with a puff of his chest. “It's just what us heroes are made to do. Are you all right?”

“I am now, thanks to you.” She held the wrapped bundle close to her chest. “I was trying to get my precious family heirloom home, when those thugs corned me! I thought I was a goner until you arrived! May I know the name of my brave hero!”

“I am Prince Mickey, the Son of Scheherazade!” Mickey only realized what he'd said when it was too late, and he resisted the urge to slap his forehead. “But... uh... just 'Mickey' will do.” Shoot. He was so conditioned to that title it came out as natural as breathing.

The woman's eyes took on an intense glitter. “Prince?” she repeated, before putting the heirloom on the ground and bowing low, hands on the ground. “I am not worthy to be in your presence, your highness.”

“What?!” Mickey jumped, and then raced over to grab her hands. “No, no, stop that! It's not like that at all! You don't have to do anything like that! I just wanted to help you, I don't want any special treatment.”

“Please forgive me, then... I have never been with someone so important.” The woman didn't pull her hands away from Mickey's. “My name is Lotus Blossom. How can I ever repay you for your kindness?”

“I don't need any kind of payment, really!” Mickey now tried pulling his hands away, but my, she had an awfully tight grip on him. “Listen, Lotus, if those guys are still out and about, maybe I should walk you home so they can't get their hands on you.”

“Your generosity truly knows no bounds, Mickey. But now I carry a burden with me, if you can't allow me the simple act of returning a kindness. How will I sleep at night with this guilt? Can't I be allowed one simple thing?” She raised a hand to touch his cheek, leaning in and lightly whimpering.

“Ah... well...” When she put it that way, it did seem harder to deny her. “I... I guess if you really want to, it'd be rude if I said no. Doesn't have to be anything big, though.”

“Oh, thank you, your highness!” Lotus suddenly threw her arms around Mickey, drawing him close to her plump chest. Mickey jerked, but he didn't want to insult her by backing up. His cheeks burned, and he tried to patiently wait out the hug and praise, eyes darting around for a proper place to rest his eyes. Like the sky, or the walls, or Minnie -

… Or Minnie standing in the alleyway staring at Mickey as he was pushed into the bosom of a pretty woman.

“NOTWHATITLOOKSLIKENOTWHATITLOOKSLIKE-” Mickey yelled loudly, his words so smashed together that no one understood what it was he was trying to say, jumping backwards and landing on his butt. Forget Mortimer the Magnificent or Donald's storms, this was as close to death as he ever felt!

Lotus frowned, and then looked in the direction Mickey was flailing at. “...Can we help you?” Her sweet voice now turned sour.

Minnie looked at Lotus, looked Mickey, then back to Lotus. “I was merely searching for my Master, and I have found him. That's all.” An average onlooker wouldn't have noticed the fire in Minnie's eyes or the aura of wrath all around her, but Mickey sure did, and he hoped one of the laws the genies had to follow was to not murder their masters. “Come, Master, we should return to the duties the Captain gave us.”

“Uh,” said Mickey, which for the moment all he was capable of saying.

“Right now?” Lotus put her attention back on Mickey, taking his hand with both of hers. “But I haven't properly thanked you yet! And what about those vicious men who are after me? You said you would help me.”

“Uh,” said Mickey again.

“My Master has his orders to follow, and can't afford to waste any time helping every single person he meets.” Minnie began to walk towards Mickey, and grabbed his other hand. “I'm sure this woman can find her own way home. She is an adult, not a child.”

“Uhhh.”

“Why yes, I am.” Lotus smiled, with a hint of fang to it. “Are you saying you're an adult too? I'm surprised, since you certainly have the body of a child...”

“UHHH.”

Now Minnie was glaring hellfire at Lotus and got it back in turn. “My looks have nothing to do with my Master returning to where he is supposed to be!”

“If he really is your master, then he should be able to make his own decisions, shouldn't he? You sound awfully bossy for a slave.”

“And you sound awfully attached for someone he just met. Why can't you find someone else to take you home?”

“He saved my life, of course I trust him!”
“He saves everyone's life, that's what he does!”
“Why don't you back off, tiny?”
“WHY DON'T YOU BACK OFF?!”
“WHY DON'T YOU MAKE ME?!”

Mickey had finally gathered enough bravery and strength to whistle high enough so both women stopped. “Listen... I have no idea what you two are doing, but that's gotta stop.” He cleared his throat, starting over. “Yes, I do have duties to fulfill, but Lotus Blossom was in trouble. I can't ignore people when they need help! And she says she won't be comfortable unless she repays me. So I'll take her home, and then she can repay me, and then I'll return to my duties. Everyone okay with that?”

Minnie “hmph”ed, but then glanced away. “...I suppose it is a matter of honor.”

Lotus clapped. “Wonderful, we're all in agreement! And I know exactly how to repay you, your highness! It will be something you and I both enjoy! And it's the only thing I want to give you, so you can't say no.” Was it Minnie's imagination or did this sound rather planned and rehearsed?

Mickey merely nodded. “Sounds fair. So, what is it?”

Lotus took Mickey's hand again for a big squeeze. “A date!”

“... A date?” Mickey repeated in disbelief.

“A date?” Minnie repeated in equal lack of belief.

“A date!” Lotus finished, now standing up and gathering the heirloom into her arm. “Oh, it'll be so much fun! We'll have a great time together! A hero and the damsel in distress he saved, together... isn't it romantic?” She then paused in her glee, noticing Mickey wasn't celebrating, and she eyed Minnie suspiciously. “Unless you two are...?”

“Oh, no, uh, she's, no.” Mickey fumbled, airily trying to gesture what he himself was barely figuring out. “She's... well... my friend? I mean, we've never... you know...?”

“I must say, that is a relief!” Lotus chirped, giggling. “There are some truly despicable masters out there.”

“NO, NO! I would never do anything like that!” Mickey said realizing what she meant, and then felt he just had to add, “I don't think I would be comfortable even kissing Minnie now.”

Now, Mickey was still trying to work out the tricks and oddities of romance. So he was fairly clueless why Minnie's jaw had dropped and she looked ready to either burst into tears or strangle him. “Comf...Comfortable?” She said shakily, her body twitching, fingers clenching. “You think the idea of kissing me is uncomfortable?”

Mickey blinked, knowing he was digging himself deeper yet unable to understand why he had the shovel. “Well, sure. Wouldn't anyone feel that way?” Lotus Blossom grinned, enjoying the show.

“Youuuu...” Minnie stretched the vowel out, shaking harder with anger. What happened to the dopey, goo-goo-eyed boy who had been drooling over her when she was on stage? Was she that repulsive now that she was a genie? What was so uncomfortable about kissing her?! Had he been uncomfortable when she kissed him on the cheek ages ago? NO SIR, THAT STUPID BOY HAD ENJOYED IT! “You, you, you...” She sucked air in through her teeth, her tail curling up behind her. “Well... I'm SO SORRY that I make you so UNCOMFORTABLE, MASTER!” Mickey had never heard her shout so loudly, and was literally floored, reeling on his back. “DON'T ALLOW ME TO MAKE YOU ANYMORE UNCOMFORTABLE! ENJOY YOUR DATE!”

Minnie then stormed off, her feet stomping so hard one could swear she was leaving footprints that would last a lifetime. Fine! FINE! Let him have his fun! He really just was like all the others! Let that harlot take him so they could cuddle and coo and KISS and have COMFORTABLE kisses! What did she matter? She was only a genie, and genies weren't supposed to entertain any thoughts about their master besides sheer obedience. It was her own fault for feeling this way.

As for Mickey, he still laid there, trying to process everything. “...Wha'happen?” he mumbled, as if he'd been run over by a wild stampede of elephants.

“I'll show you the way home!” Lotus took Mickey by the hand and began to drag him away, not caring if he ever got up to walk. “Then we can plan our date! I simply can't wait!”

Then Mickey thought the one thing no hero in a story should ever think – At least it can't get any worse.

Chapter Text

Pluto was doing his assigned patrol on the floating ship, keeping his eyes, ears and nose open for any intruders. He hoped he wouldn't have to do this for too much longer – he was getting hungry. He began to daydream about his nice master giving him a big fat bone to chew on when he heard grunting noises from the ropes hanging off the ship. He straightened up, cautiously walking over in case this was a villain, but to his relief the body that climbed on was the Lady Friend Of Master, otherwise known as Minnie. Pluto yipped to see her, and then stuck his head over the side, expecting to see his master and the others, but saw no one. He blinked, and then looked at Lady Friend Of Master, eyebrows raised.

“Uncomfortable kissing me...” Minnie growled, still unable to let go of that one single statement. “Well, who says I'd be comfortable kissing him, anyway? He doesn't know what I think!” Finally spotting Pluto, she turned on him, hands on her hips. “You know, he thinks he's so great, but he's not! Just because he risks his life saving strangers doesn't make him a good person!”

“Woof,” said Pluto, which, being a dog, was all he was really capable of saying.

“Okay, so, technically that makes him a good person. But that doesn't mean he's perfect! It just means he's...he's dumb! If he keeps putting himself in danger for the sake of others, he'll wind up dying that much sooner! Mortals have a really short lifespan, and that's how he wants to waste it.”

“Woof,” said Pluto again, still not contributing much to the conversation.

“No, I don't care!” Minnie insisted in this bizarre not-argument. “He can go and get himself killed! I'll just wind up with a new Master, like I always do. He's not that much different than all the others I've had.” She sat on the ship's railing, tail swishing in the wind. “He's not the first one who's offered to free me. He'll break his promise, just like they all do.”

Pluto had absolutely no idea what she was going on about, but she was Sad, that he could see. Lady Friend didn't need to be Sad! He gently whined, and moved to place his head in her lap. Cheer up, Lady Friend, don't be Sad! Minnie looked down at Pluto, and like many people when faced with cute pups, she couldn't resist the urge to stroke his head. “...I bet he's never broken a promise to you,” Minnie mumbled, feeling a little silly. “I know you think he's great, but no one can be great forever. One day he'll give in to his greed, you'll see. Maybe not greed over money, or power, but everyone feels greed! You'll just have to live with that disappointment, Pluto. He's not going to be with you forever. The moment he has something better, he'll dump you in a hot second! Even if she has greasy hair and eyes that are way too small and an annoying voice! Even then, he'll still be way more comfortable kissing her than you!”

“Who's kissing you?”

For half a second Minnie thought that voice came from Pluto, and she almost fell off the boat in shock. But a light hand on her back reminded her who the voice was – Donald was hanging from the rope, and now making sure Minnie wasn't falling over. Minnie's cheeks reddened in embarrassment. “...Nobody. Nobody's kissing me, that's for sure. Why are you back so soon?”

Donald climbed onto the railing and sat next to Minnie. “I...needed a break from my entourage.” As much as he enjoyed Panchito and José's company, they were insistent on singing and dancing his praise everywhere he went. Shoot, once they made up a song just because he bought an apple! “What about you? I thought you were supposed to be at Mickey's side 24/7, since you're his genie.”

Minnie huffed, glancing away. “My Master doesn't need me right now. He's on a date.”

“A date?” Donald repeated, surprised. “Huh! That's weird... the way he goes on about you, I thought for sure you two would be dating eventually.” A brief pause. “Is there some kind of genie law that prevents you two from being together?”

Minnie's cheeks continued to burn hotter and hotter. “I... it... N-No. There are only three laws of genies – whoever touches the lamp owns the genie, the genie cannot repeat wishes, and the genie can't cry.”

While Donald was greatly curious about that third law, he stayed on topic for the moment. “But if there's nothing preventing you two from being together, why hasn't he asked you out on a date?”

“Because... clearly...” Minnie needed to speak slowly in order to better control herself so she wouldn't be near breaking rule number three. “My master doesn't want to date me. He finds the mere thought of kissing me uncomfortable, he said so himself.” At this rate, the way she kept saying it over and over, it would be on her tombstone.

“That doesn't sound like Mickey at all,” Donald instantly decided, and with that, he grabbed the rope. “I'll be back later.”

“Where are you going?”

“I'm going to talk to Mickey and get to the bottom of this.”

“What?!” Minnie reached down, trying to grab Donald's hands and stop him from going down any further. She might've fallen herself, if Pluto hadn't taken a mouthful of her dress, trying to yank her back. “You can't do that! He's on his...you know!”

“Something is going on here,” Donald said sternly, with a tiny gray cloud of annoyance popping over his head. “And I want to figure it out for Mickey's sake. He's the first friend I ever made, and he saved me from the miserable life I had! I'm going to repay him for his kindness even if it takes me the rest of my life! And I want to help you too, Minnie!”

Minnie stared, confused. “Help me? What do you mean?”

“I don't like seeing you upset. I'm sure if can talk to Mickey, he can explain himself, and everything will be okay.”

She gave this a moment of thought before 'understanding.' “You know, this won't guarantee you a shot at my lamp. I have no control over that.”

Now it was Donald's turn for confusion. “What are you talking about? What does your lamp have to do with anything?”

“Why you don't want me to be 'upset'. I'm not going to hand over my lamp just because you're nice to me.”

The gray cloud began to grow bigger. “I don't care about your lamp, I just want to help you! Now let's get going and talk to Mickey!”

“Mickey won't hand over the lamp either!”

“SHUT UP ABOUT THE LAMP AND GET MOVING!” Donald yanked Minnie's arm so hard it propelled her forward, and Pluto backwards, so he could slap her onto his shoulder and bring her down. “We're going to see Mickey, and that's final!”

“PUT ME DOWN, PUT ME DOWN!” Minnie kicked about, throwing a toddler's tantrum, but Donald climbed down with her anyway. “I don't want to see their stupid date! I don't want to see them get all mushy and sappy and kissing each other so comfortably! I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wannaaaaa!” But no matter how loudly she complained, Donald wouldn't let her go, and the noisy duo made their way down.

Pluto watched them go, and then decided he had earned himself a nice long nap.

~*~

Mickey tapped his foot as he waited outside of Lotus Blossom's house, wondering what was taking her so long. Was she changing into a different outfit or putting on more make-up? He had heard tales of dates, but never experienced one himself. For all the stories of his parents' romance, they hadn't so much so much as dated as they had stories told and stories listened to. And, after all, thoughts of romance were still relatively new in his life. He hadn't really entertained them too much until he met Minnie, and it was only fitting that she was preoccupying his mind right now. What had he said that upset her so much? How could he properly apologize if he didn't know what the problem was? Maybe he could ask Goofy for some advice.

Any other plans were put on hold as Lotus finally exited, and much to Mickey's confusion, she didn't look any different – save for her pockets which now appeared to be bulging, and a knapsack for her back which was holding the wrapped object she'd held onto all this time. Why not leave it behind in her house? “Say, uh, miss Blossom-”

“Lotus, please,” she insisted, a hand to her heart. “We're close now, aren't we? I don't have to call you your highness or anything like that, so you said? How about I call you Big Ears? Isn't that cute?”

Mickey didn't care for the nickname at all, but allowed it for the sake of getting things over with faster. “Fine, Lotus. Why have you been carrying that big thing around with you?” He pointed to her knapsack. “What is it, anyway?”

Lotus hesitated, glancing behind her, and then sighing deeply, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “It is my greatest treasure! It is the family heirloom my dear departed grandfather gave me! I miss him so much, so I take it with me everywhere...that way, it's as if he's always with me, guiding me, and healing the gaping wound in my heart!”

If Mickey hadn't felt instant pity and connection to losing a family member, he might've realized she still hadn't said what the heirloom was, or questioned why she would carry around something that was clearly heavy. But Mickey was a sentimental fool in many ways. “Aw gee, Lotus, I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to bring up any sad memories. I'm sure your grandfather loved you very much.”

“Big Ears, you have a big heart as well!” Lotus reached down to embrace him, making sure to squeeze him especially close to her chest. “It would please my grandfather greatly to know such a kind gentleman will be taking me out on a wonderful date!”

Mickey pulled back his head so he could breathe. “Uh, yeah, sure, I bet. Now, about this date...” What was the best way to tell her he had no idea what to do? From his limited experience in such matters, dates consisted of three parts – Doing A Thing, Eating, Saying Goodbye. “I guess we could... Um... we might go... Ah...” Nope, he was coming up blank. He really couldn't imagine doing much of anything with Lotus, he barely knew the woman.

“Why don't we go to the market?” Lotus offered, holding his hand. “There are some really pretty things on sale, we could get something to remember this day!”

Mickey's eyes widened, suddenly excited for an unrelated reason. “That's a great idea! Let's head there right now! I have some extra money to spare, this should work out perfectly!” He was so pleased with this idea he didn't notice two of his sailing companions poking their heads over barrels to watch them.

Donald reasoned it would be rude to interrupt, maybe he could talk to Mickey after the date – but in all honesty, he wanted to see how a date was done, as he was just as woefully inept as Mickey was when it came to this concept. Plus, he needed to be there to restrain Minnie from running away, which wasn't easy.

And so, Mickey and Lotus Did A Thing – they went to the market. The highlight among the wares was fancy jewelry that sparkled in the sunlight. Mickey carefully went over the booths, inspecting each item he found and mulling over it silently. Lotus tried on some earrings and bracelets, each time conveniently forgetting to pay as she walked away, leaving Mickey to scramble and try to pay her tab. He'd never met such a forgetful girl in all his life! But then, the villagers seemed to be pretty forgetful too. For someone who lived there, none of the sellers appeared to know who she was.

Yet all of these facts were pushed aside when Mickey triumphantly yelled, “Yes! This is exactly it!” This caught Lotus' attention, and she loomed over his shoulder – he was cupping a silver necklace with three blue sapphires of different sizes hanging off. “This is just what I was looking for!”

“Oooh, it's a real beauty, Big Ears!” Lotus cooed, slipping her arms around Mickey from behind. “You have such excellent taste!” She thought she heard a noise, but dismissed it, never guessing it was a duck struggling to keep a mouse from throwing sandals at her head. “But don't you think it's a smidgen too small for me?”

“Huh?” Mickey looked at the woman entwining herself around him. “Oh, no, this is for Minnie! I figured this will make a pretty good apology gift for...whatever I did! And it matches her eyes, see? That really blue sapphire color, it's just like looking into her eyes!” Minus the additional effect of getting lost in them and losing the strength in one's knees. “And it'll be something she owns, instead of doing something for someone else! Isn't it great?”

Lotus narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “...You're kind of oblivious, aren't you?” She pulled away, rolling her eyes. “I'll be back in a minute, Big Ears.” After giving one of those ears a teasing pinch, she walked away to a different booth.

Mickey shrugged off whatever she meant, paying for the necklace, and now he heard the noise that Lotus had earlier ignored. He turned his head, and there in an alleyway was Donald, a cloud of sheer frustration atop his head, with his arms around Minnie's waist as she was inexplicably trying to climb up a wall and escape.

“YOU GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! WE'RE ALL FRIENDS, DANG IT!”
“NO! I DON'T WANNA SEE THEM! YOU GO BE HIS FRIEND!”

It was adorable in an extremely weird way. Mickey blinked slowly, and then made his way over, finger raised. “Ummm... what are you two doing?”

Both friends froze, and Donald's anger cloud now turned into a brief snow of worry. “Well! … We definitely weren't spying on your date, if that was the implication!”

“Yes!” Minnie falsely agreed, allowing herself to slip into Donald's grip. “We were just doing... the captain's duties! His orders! Whatever they were again!”

Mickey chose to ignore the fact that they were clearly lying. “I'm glad you're here anyway. Here, look!” He held out the necklace towards Minnie, his smiling face full of sunshine. “Whaddya think?”

Minnie had been so distraught over Lotus' hands all over Mickey that she never heard who the gift was meant for, and assumed it was for Lotus. She huffed, looking away and crossing her arms. “It's fine, I suppose. If you like useless hunks of rocks.”

“Be nice,” Donald said, pushing in Minnie's cheeks with his fingers.

Mickey's face fell along with his shoulders. “You... you really think so? Gee, I thought it would match and everything...” Did he not know Minnie as well as he thought he did? That was very disappointing. Maybe he'd been wrong in thinking he could buy her forgiveness! Yes, perhaps that was it. Okay, he could do this, he could find a way to make her happy and set things right between them! But in order to do that, he'd have to finish this date so he could properly concentrate. “Just you wait Minnie! I know exactly what to do!” He was the hero of the story, after all – and the heroes always got the girl. Even if they were currently somehow with a girl they wish they hadn't got. He sprinted back into the market, trying to think.

Minnie leaned into Donald's chest, whining. “He's practically bragging about being with her!”

“He is not,” Donald insisted, pushing Minnie back into standing. “The day's not over yet! We're all friends, and friends don't give up on each other! Now let's get moving before we lose them.” Minnie wouldn't budge, resulting in Donald hoisting her over his back, and that started a whole new fight.

Mickey tried to find Lotus in the crowd, which proved difficult at first. But he found something much worse – within the flowing group of people, he could spot the same three masked men from earlier! They were asking around, searching for someone, and Mickey could guess who. What persistent thieves! Why wouldn't they let one target go? He stuffed the necklace under his collar and rushed ahead, trying to find Lotus without bringing attention to himself or her. Within seconds, he spotted her speaking with a much older gentleman, holding up the wrapped object – which was now slightly unwrapped, and Mickey could see it was white and slightly familiar.

“Come on, is that all you can do for me?” Lotus shoved the object forward, insistent. “This thing has to be worth more!”

The gentleman merely shrugged. “It's the best I can do. That's a hot item on your hands, and it might be worth more trouble than coin.”

“Don't give me that, it's worth plenty! You're just being cheap!”

“Lllllotus?” Mickey stretched out her name, trying to understand what he was witnessing. “Are you... selling your family heirloom? The one that keeps you from missing your grandfather?” If she was going to keep calling him Big Ears, then she shouldn't be surprised when he overheard something very startling.

The gentleman gave Lotus an incredulous look, while Lotus chewed on her bottom lip momentarily, taking the object back into her arms. “...I... was... so worried I wouldn't have enough money for our meal! My dearest grandfather would surely not want his beloved family to starve.” She wiped away a tear on her cheek that didn't exist. “I understand it must be so difficult for you to understand, growing up so rich that you never had to worry about your next meal.”

Mickey was straddling the line between skepticism and sincerity. “I, well, no, I wouldn't say that, I just... It's fine, I have plenty of money for lunch, we just have to – wait, what am I saying?!” He shook his head, remembering the important fact he learned seconds ago. “The thieves are back! They're looking for you, we gotta get out of here!” He grabbed Lotus by the wrist and began to run, with her sighing in aggravation and following him. “We need to find someplace where they won't look for us!”

Lotus squeezed his hand. “Not to worry, Big Ears. I know exactly where to go! And we can have our nice romantic lunch together!” Now she took the lead, dragging him along, managing to evade the masked men completely.

But she didn't evade Donald, who continued to pull Minnie along, and along, and along.

~*~

“Say 'aaah'~!”

“... Huh?”

Was Mickey really as naive as he was led to believe? Or did people actually crack open crates of food behind restaurants and eat away without paying? It almost seemed like they were sneaking bites out of the owner's storage, but Lotus had insisted she knew the owner and this was perfectly fine. She was also insisting Mickey take a slice of fruit into his mouth via her fingers and Mickey was wondering why she thought he couldn't feed himself. When she didn't pull away, Mickey finally obliged, opening his mouth and letting her plop the apple slice inside.

“Isn't this nice?” Lotus snuggled up beside Mickey, tearing away at an orange peel with her fingers. “Resting and relaxing without anyone around? Now we can really get to know each other.”

“I suppose so,” Mickey replied without really listening. He was tossing a singular green grape up and down, his mind down another line. Come to think of it, how much did he know about Minnie's diet? She sat with him at breakfast but her plate usually stayed full even when mealtime was over. Did genies not need to eat? There went the idea of Mickey making Minnie a meal to say he was sorry.

“So let's start off with our families!” Lotus went on, linking her arm around Mickey's. “Well, you've heard me go on and on about mine, you're probably sick of it. That means it's my turn to ask! How much are the Sultan and Sultana leaving you in their will?”

Mickey's eyes remained on the grape, and his mind remained on Minnie. “I dunno. Never asked.” Maybe he could sew her something? He had no idea how to sew, and Minnie wore the same outfit every day. But he could learn, for her sake! Maybe she'd look nice in pink, or blue, or... anything, really, this was Minnie, she would look gorgeous no matter what she wore. But the beauty wasn't important as, would it make her happy?

Lotus leaned in closer, petting his head between the ears. “How much money have they left in their palace?”

“I dunno. Never asked,” Mickey said again, still not bothering to look at her. How about poetry? Girls loved that sort of sappy mush, didn't they? But if Mickey was no good at imagining stories, that probably meant he'd be no good at poetry either. Still, it was worth a try. How many words rhymed with Minnie? Skinny, whinny, mini... okay that last one would definitely be cheating, and there wasn't anything pleasant he could string along with those words.

In a final desperate move, Lotus sat on Mickey's lap, her arms around his neck, fingers touching his chin upward – this was about the time Donald and Minnie arrived, peeking their heads around the corner, and Donald had to use all his strength to keep Minnie still as she was now flailing like a cat with its tail tugged. “Have your parents ever discussed how much monetary freedom your wife would ever have?”

As expected, he replied “I dunno. Never asked.” But this time he finally seemed to realize how close she was to him, but instead of showing any clear signs of attraction, he asked, “Say, do you think a painting would be a good apology gift?” Art was subjective, though, so this would be tough. Plus he'd need to know her favorite image to recreate – he could never paint her, because it'd never be as good as the real thing.

Lotus inhaled heavily through her nose, lowering her head and flicking Mickey's nose. “Okay, I know when to fold 'em. Big Ears, be honest with me – you're thinking about someone else, aren't you?”

Mickey's cheeks pinked, but there was no denying the obvious. “Aw, gee, I'm really sorry, Lotus. I know this was supposed to be fun and all. I hope I didn't ruin anything. It's just... you can't control how you really feel, can you?”

Lotus smiled, and for once this appeared to be a genuine, warm smile, with no racing thoughts in her eyes or suggestive moves with her body. “I understand completely, trust me. I don't hold anything against you. I truly treasured our time together, and I will remember it always. I can only hope you beseech me one last favor to end our date?”

Relieved, Mickey sat up straight, ready to help. “Sure, what is it? You name it!”

At the corner, Donald whispered to Minnie, “See? You worried over nothing. All's well that ends well.”

Minnie made a long “hmmm” noise, annoyed that Donald was apparently right. She had a feeling that Lotus could have danced in her birthday suit and Mickey would have made small talk about the weather. It still didn't make up for that kissing comment, and she still didn't like Lotus touching him, but Mickey was a grown man, more or less, and capable of making his own choices. He hadn't chosen Lotus. That would be the end of it, and maybe Minnie would feel better about the whole thing in a matter of days. Maybe she had even misjudged Lotus, who held no grudge! “I guess I can't really ever stop my Master from making friends. Maybe I was... too harsh on her earlier.” Maybe there was time to apologize. What did Lotus want from Mickey, anyway?

“A goodbye kiss,” said Lotus.

In that instant Minnie was torn between throwing a crate of bananas at THAT HUSSY or burying herself in a hole and never coming out. Donald had to move quickly and slap his hands over Minnie's mouth before she could scream, muffling her horror. “I-I-It's not that bad!” Donald stammered, pulling Minnie back. “It's no big deal! Maybe Mickey's kissed other girls before, so this won't mean anything to him!”

Mickey's eyes widened, and now his entire face, even the tips of his Big Ears, were getting pinker. “I... It... that... really? Are you sure? I-I don't think you'd like it, I'm not very good, I've never kissed anyone before.”

Lotus touched Mickey's cheeks, holding his face up. “Then it will be my honor to give you your first kiss!”

“You're killing me here, Mickey,” Donald groaned quietly, his body getting exhausted from wrangling Minnie.

Yes, Lotus had given up her plans to seduce Mickey so she could have a wealthy life, but now this was a matter of womanly pride. If this wouldn't leave a lasting impression on him and win his heart, then her dignity would never recover. She wouldn't even wait for Mickey to give her proper permission, as she closed her eyes, leaned in -

“We've found you at last!”

Oh thank goodness, thought Donald, Minnie, and Mickey at the same time – before comprehending that this particular interruption may not have been a good thing. Donald and Minnie had been so busy playing catch and escape that they completely failed to notice the three masked men walk right by them. Now they were standing among the crates, holding out long wooden staffs, all of them aimed at Lotus. “There's nowhere to run!” said the leader, stepping forward.

“You tell her, bro!” said the smallest of the trio.

“May we all resolve this peacefully,” said the biggest of the trio.

Lotus rolled her eyes, “Sheesh, you guys never give up, do you?”

Mickey pushed Lotus off of him, jumping up and brandishing his sword. “You guys aren't going to lay a hand on her!”

“We have no qualm with you,” said the leader, not bothering to face Mickey. “Stand aside, and let us do our duty.”

“No way!” Mickey held his ground as Lotus began to inch away, looking for another exit. “If you want her, you'll have to get through me!”

“And me!” Donald cried from the corner, lightly putting Minnie aside before joining Mickey's side, brandishing his fists. “I'm with you all the way, Mickey! Let's take these guys down!”

Mickey wasn't exactly in a mood to celebrate camaraderie. “...Were you two still spying on me?”

“...Define spying.”

“So, yes, you were.”

“She's getting away!” the youngest masked man cried out, pointing above – indeed, Lotus was climbing the crates to get to the rooftop.

Upon being found out, she twirled and winked at Mickey. “It was fun while it lasted, Big Ears! Next time, I'll get your lips for sure.” With a little laugh, she blew a kiss at Mickey, and ran to the edge of the rooftop, grabbing a clothesline and sliding down.

“After her!” The leader of the trio roared, and the three dashed off, with Mickey and Donald giving chase, and Minnie struggling to keep up. Now it was a strung out chase through the streets – Mickey and his friends chasing the masked men, and the masked men chasing Lotus. As they all raced through the sand and crowds, the wrapped heirloom began to lose more and more of its covering, revealing its true identity.

Mickey didn't see this, but he did see salvation in the form of Goofy, Horace, and Clarabelle – they were right ahead, trying to get back to the boat with their supplies.

“Goofy!” Mickey yelled as loud as he could, catching the dog's attention. “Stop the thieves!”

Goofy took one look at the stampede heading his way, and nodded. “Okey-dokey!” He placed down his sack of lemons, and then leaned down as if to start stretching exercises – he stuck out his leg to trip Lotus, caught her in his arms, spun her around six times, tossed her up, caught the heirloom in one hand and the girl in the other. Lotus was far too dizzy to make any sort of cry or scream, or even retaliate. Horace and Clarabelle merely watched the spectacle with faint curiosity, far too accustomed to such shenanigans.

The two chasing groups slowed down to a halt, but Mickey shot up ahead, outraged. “Goofy! What are you doing?! I said stop the thieves!”

“And I did,” Goofy said.

“No you didn't! She was trying to get away from them! I've been helping her avoid them all day, and you're helping them rob her?” Mickey knew they were pirates, but this was a new low!

But Goofy didn't budge, calmly holding the supposed heirloom up in the air. “Are you sure? Cause this looks an awful lot like it belongs to those guys.” Now the object was fully unwrapped, and Mickey's jaw dropped – it was a white mask, and it looked exactly like the masks the men were wearing!

The leader of the group sighed in relief, removing his own white mask to reveal a blonde duck with a kind face. “You have our thanks, stranger! I am Wildwing, and this is my little brother, Nosedive, and our fellow priest, Grin.”

“...Priest?” Mickey asked weakly, feeling every last drip of color drain from his face.

The little brother took off his own mask, revealing a long fuss of blonde hair and a playful expression. “Sure, dude! We worship the gods of the north, got a sweet shrine not too far from here. But this babe broke in and stole our sacred mask!”

“...Stole?” Mickey could swear the earth was ready to swallow him whole.

Lastly, Grin removed his mask, and while he was large and full of muscle, he spoke softly, lightly smoothing down his itty bitty black ponytail. “It is said our ancestors wore this mask while protecting our people from evil-doers, and so we don similar visage in their honor. The original mask is made out of very valuable material, so I can empathize with her desires... but I'd still like to hit her.”

“But... but... but...” Mickey stammered, pointing this way and that way, his black and white worldview now made blindingly gray. It was like his skull was being squeezed, and as his anger began to bubble, he whipped around to glare at Lotus, who was huffing about being caught. “You! I can't believe you! I was really worried about you, and trying to help you, and felt really bad about not liking you! How could you do that to me?”

“It was really easy,” Lotus replied. “You're an easy mark, Big Ears. Shame we never got that kiss, though, I'm sure you would've been pretty good at it.”

Clarabelle's hand shot up in the air. “Excuse me? I need details.”

Ignoring her need for gossip, Goofy handed the mask over to Wildwing and placed Lotus back on her feet, lightly pushing her into Nosedive and Grin's arms. “There you go, fellas. Happy to have helped!”

Wildwing bowed deeply. “We'll return the mask to the shrine, and take this thief to the proper authorities. If there's anything we can ever do to repay you, just say the word.”

“Money,” said Horace, but a nudge from Goofy made him shush.

Nosedive grabbed Lotus by one arm and Grin took her other. “All right, babe, you better tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth!” said Nosedive.

“May you find peace during your soul-searching behind bars,” said Grin, “And maybe work on some apologies.”

Lotus allowed herself to be taken away, even walking along with them without a care in the world. Mickey had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn't the first time she'd been caught – and it wouldn't be the last time she inevitably escaped. This was a woman who cared for nothing and no one, and didn't let it bother her. Mickey's pride was thoroughly trampled, and the anger in him kept burning. If she didn't care about being caught, what was the point? She wasn't even sorry for what she did to him! His fingers curled, and his chest burned, and he wanted to punish her himself, wanted to make her pay, wanted her to hurt-

“I'd say this was a pretty good way to learn a lesson.” Goofy's hand suddenly came down on Mickey's hand, as if physically snuffing out a candle. Had he perhaps seen, and prevented, the outburst readying in Mickey's face? “Not everyone who looks good is good, and not everyone who looks bad is bad. We're still kind of behind on shopping, though, so maybe we ought to get back to it.”

It did the trick, and Mickey's temper was doused, though the shame ate away at him. “I, uh... yes, Captain.” His eyes found Horace, whose arms were crossed and was looking at Mickey with expectations. Mickey sighed heavily, lowering his head. “I'm really sorry about running away from you, Horace. You were just trying to help, and I wouldn't listen. Maybe if I had, none of this would have happened. I promise, from now on, I'll pay attention to whatever you have to say, no matter how I think about it.”

Horace watched Mickey steadily, but then smiled way too cheerfully. “No harm done, oh great Son of Scheherazade! Sure, it made me feel like a worm under a rock, but what's a little pain between crewmates? I can absolutely let this slide!”

Mickey lifted his head, delightfully surprised, despite hearing the title he so loathed. He could let that slide this once, if it meant things were resolved. “Aw, gee, really Horace?”

“Wait for it,” Clarabelle warned.

Horace's smile turned into a devious grin. “After all, I'll be able to tell the amazing Scheherazade a story... how her son helped a thief steal from priests!” He turned on his heel, cackling like an evil mastermind.

“WHAT?! NOOOO!” Mickey chased after him, flailing like a chicken with its head cut off. “You can't tell my parents about this! Come on, Horace, be a pal! I'm begging you here! Father will never let it go! PLEEEASE!” But no matter how much Mickey begged, Horace continued to go on and on about he'd tell Scheherazade all about her child's stupid seduction, at least until Clarabelle gave him a good thwack upside the head. Goofy casually reminded everyone what they were supposed to be doing, and once again, an attempt at shopping was made, although this time Mickey was predictably short on cash – Lotus had even stolen all the coins he had in his pockets! Donald offered to share what little coin he had with his friend, and Minnie was silent, silent, silent all the while.

The day came to an end, and everyone made their way back to the ship with purchases in hand. Mickey walked slower than the rest of the gang, his body heavy with shame. It felt like a layer of filth that would never wash off. Even if his parents wouldn't find out about it, it would stay with Mickey forever, as if he was wearing a sign that said I AM A DUMMY. Minnie watches him, still not saying a word, having a feeling that “I told you so” wasn't going to make things better. It was actually unpleasant seeing him so miserable, like a smear on a good painting. Donald, whose entire life was built around misery, didn't understand why Mickey was allowing such a little matter to hurt him so deeply. Besides, there were far more important things to worry about. It wasn't until the ship was in sight that Donald remembered something. “Say, why did you two argue in the first place?” He asked Mickey and Minnie, while Panchito and José were singing their usual nonsense. “Was it really just about Lotus Blossom?”

“Don't ask me, I don't know,” Mickey answered with a shrug before hoisting his sack of vegetables over his shoulder to get a better look at Minnie. “Why did you storm off like that?”

If there was one thing Minnie and Lotus could agree on, it was that Mickey was clearly oblivious. Minnie kept her eyes away, carrying ink bottles and quills. “It's not a big deal... I have no qualms with my Master, no matter how uncomfortable I make him.”

Mickey blinked three times in a row. “What do you mean? You don't make me uncomfortable.”

“My Master is a liar now?” Minnie stuck her chin up. “You said so yourself, that the thought of kissing me made you uncomfortable! But I promise you, I don't really care whether you want to kiss me or not.”

Mickey stared, his eyes popping out of his skull. “What? Is that what you think? Minnie – I've wanted to kiss you since I first laid eyes on you!” Now that got everyone's attention, stopping to watch the love story unfold. Mickey blushed, and mumbled under his breath without thinking, “I wish we could have some privacy-”

And lo and behold, the wish was granted. Mickey and Minnie suddenly poofed into his room on the ship, sending the vegetables and ink bottles and quills sprawling on the floor. Mickey landed on his back on the bed with a loud “OOF” and Minnie landed on top of him with a more feminine “EEK”. The two of them stayed like this for a minute, cheeks red from embarrassment, and being too tired and pained from the wish to actually move. “Sorry,” Mickey said eventually.

“Forget that!” Minnie moved to lean on her hands and knees, looking down at Mickey. “If you want to kiss me so badly, then why did you say it was uncomfortable to Lotus?”

Mickey felt himself sink to the bed as he felt he was explaining the obvious, but he was in no position to push Minnie away. “I... um... well...” A hard swallow, a clearing of his throat, a few mental pushes, “Minnie, whatever I feel for you... whatever I'd like to do to you, however I'd like to be with you... I can't act on any of it as long as you're a genie.”

Minnie narrowed her eyes, instantly going toward the negative thoughts. “Because I'm inhuman?”

“No!” Mickey shouted, wincing a little as he tried and failed to sit up. “You've been at this for years and years and years... you've probably been hurt more times than I can count. You've been told that you're just a servant and nothing more, and now you think it too! So...if I were to try anything, and you...you did something back...” He shyly met her eyes, relieved to see her hard expression softening in confusion. “I just... I could never be sure if you were doing it because you wanted to... or because you're expected to do whatever I want. I can't do that to you. I'd never be able to live with myself. So... so no matter how badly I want to kiss you, or tell you things, or anything... I can't do it until I set you free. Do you understand?”

That strange, warm, clawing feeling in Minnie's heart that had been discovered during Donald's trials was now all-encompassing. Minnie's mouth hung open, but nothing came out. She could not trace a single iota of malice or greed in those words. He didn't resent her for being what she was – if anything, he was blaming himself. In all the years and years and years she'd been in this prison, not once had any of her wardens ever said anything like this. Nor had they ever meant the gentleness in their voices, the pain in their eyes, and the softness of their touch like what she found in this nervous boy underneath her. There was a painful stab in her chest, like the cracking of the shell she'd worn for ages.

Mickey's inner darkness – if he had any at all – was far, far deeper than Minnie thought any person was capable of. Instead, he was pure light in all he said and all he did, even when it proved to be his downfall. In that shining, beautiful moment, she could not recognize one more unfamiliar emotion fluttering within her – hope.

“Why...” her voice was diminutive, girlish, and Mickey wondered if that was how Minnie spoke once upon a time before time had tried to destroy her. “Why didn't you just say so in the first place?”

“Thought it was obvious,” Mickey mumbled, noting that from now on, he'd have to be much more upfront and direct when it came to telling Minnie anything. “You don't have to like me, or even love me, Minnie, but... can't we be friends, at least?”

“I... I...” But before Minnie could answer, someone finally got a kiss that day – and it was Minnie, tackled down by Pluto and being given generous, sloppy licks. Yay, Lady Friend was back! And Lady Friend was Smiling, so Lady Friend Must be Happy! Hurray for Lady Friend!!!

“Pluto!” Mickey yelped, trying to grab Pluto by the collar and yank him back. “Knock it off! Can't you read the mood?!... Why am I telling a dog this?!” He turned his head to apologize to Minnie, but the sight of her now was like Aphrodite when she first entered the mortal realm, a sight too beautiful to ignore.

She was giggling wildly, her hands on her face, a magnificent dam burst and giving life to one who needed it most. She couldn't remember the last time she had truly, genuinely, actually laughed. It was such a melodious and infectious sound that Mickey wound up laughing as well, until they could no longer breathe. Pluto didn't understand what was so funny, but he curled up on Mickey's lap, pleased to have those he cared about most with him again.

When the crew-mates returned to the ship and heard such happy sounds, not a single one dared to interrupt.

~*~

The waitress nervously approached the owner of the darkly lit bar with a tray of drinks. Nobody liked serving her, and with good reason. “Your order, madam.” The waitress bit her lip, trying to make the best of a bad situation. “You... you seem like you're in an awfully good mood today.”

The younger woman chuckled, spreading her cards out on the table, a wisp of fresh smoke escaping her golden pipe. “What can I say? I like what I see.” Yet her eyes were closed. “Leave it on the table. I have some planning to do... we all do, really. Our beloved captain is coming back.”

The waitress gasped, almost spilling her tray. “He is? But how could you possibly know? He hasn't sent any messages or...” She trailed off, feeling ridiculous. Why bother asking such questions? The madam always knew. She knew everything.

The pretty lady duck flipped a card in her fingers – a robed figure trying to guide two shadowy individuals down one path. “Do you know what this card is?”

The waitress squinted. “The... Lovers?” She read off the tiny wording on the bottom. “Does that mean romance is coming?”

“It means many things, dearie. At a crossroads, one cannot take both paths. You can only believe in one thing, or another. Will he follow the path that leads to what he wants to hear... or face the truth that comes from the past?” The waitress assumed the “he” was the captain, but the duck was talking of someone no one in the bar knew of – a royal prince laughing with his lady love. “Either way... this is going to be a lot of fun.”

Chapter Text

With things officially back on track, the ship and its crew finally sailed for the town of Maelumat. Goofy was happy to go, but Horace, Clarabelle, Panchito and José appeared to dread the visit, visibly flinching every time they heard its name. Whenever Mickey tried to ask why they were so despondent about this place, he was met with a long, long, long groan. Eventually he gave up, deciding that discovering what would be there would be half the fun. It was difficult to get depressed lately, as far as Mickey was concerned because Minnie was smiling more, and how could you not be happy with that?

He was still clueless that it was the revelation of his set boundaries that had made Minnie considerably cheerier. This wasn't to say she was skipping up and down the hallways and singing love songs, but she was slowly losing the glum, silent mask on her face. It was as if she was allowing herself to enjoy the little things, with tiny smiles here and there and sharing a personal opinion if she so wished. Mickey was thrilled to bits with this progress, and only hoped he could find out what had caused it so he could help her further.

So when the ship was parked at the town's borders and everyone filed out to the center of the boat, Mickey was in a good mood, Minnie was in a good mood, and Donald, upon seeing his two friends so happy, was also in a good mood. They kept on having a good mood even when Clarabelle dragged herself outside and moaned to high heaven. “Do we haaaaaave to go see her? I get wrinkles whenever I hear that voice!”

“There's gotta be a better way to hunt for information.” Horace slumped onto his wife, his entire body sagging. “I don't think I can handle another visit to this place.”

Goofy grabbed both of their shoulders and forced them to stand up straight. “Come on now, you guys are acting like she's some kinda demon!”

“I think I'd prefer a demon,” Panchito whined, not even having enough strength to lift his guitar.

“I say she's more like one of those beautiful sirens,” José's lit cigar drooped in his beak. “A gorgeous sight, but when you get too close, it's all over.”

Goofy clicked his tongue, heading towards the ropes and beginning to lower them over the side. “I hope you don't say that to her face! Mind your manners! We have no clues about where Mickey's parents could be, and she could be the only lead we have! So for Mickey's sake, behave! We'll be fine!” Mickey flashed him a thumbs-up in appreciation, and Goofy returned it, but then paused. “...Long as we don't accept her challenges, we should be fine.”

Mickey couldn't help but laugh as he approached the ropes. “I don't know about the rest of you, but this is making me want to meet her more and more! Should be another swell adventure!”

“Long as she doesn't try to swindle you, eh, Big Ears?” Donald teased, pinching Mickey's ear. “I may have been super sheltered, but you'll never catch me being outfoxed by a pretty face.”

Mickey swatted Donald's hand away. “Y'know, now that you said it out in the open, it's absolutely going to happen.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

As the childish argument commenced, Minnie was the last to climb down, giggling quietly. She doubted Mickey would fall for another woman's tricks like that, and it was an odd thing, having confidence in a master about something positive. Mickey was capable of many things, and perhaps he was capable of keeping her promise to her. It made her chest warm to think of it, to think of him, and when they were on solid ground, she eagerly dashed to his side.

“Is too times infinity,” Mickey tried to win the fight before talking to the elders. “So what's so bad about this place?”

“There's nothing wrong with the actual place,” Clarabelle explained as they walked, Goofy taking the lead. “But there's a bar we need to enter. And that's where she is...the lady of our nightmares. Whatever you do, do not accept her challenges.”

Mickey exchanged glances with Donald and Minnie, and each of them tried to imagine what this eerie woman could be like. Maybe she had powers over man and earth! Or maybe she was a ghost from times long since past! Or maybe she had thirty heads! Or maybe she had a horrible toe fungus! The possibilities were endless, and Mickey clicked his heels in anticipation. The sting from Lotus Blossom hadn't faded, but now he was sure it was a lesson he needed to learn. He would not be fooled again, and he would accept all troubles head-on!

In fact, Mickey was still fascinated by each and every thing he discovered out in the world beyond his kingdom. Often he would gaze out over the flying ship's edge and simply watch the scenery pass by. Nothing failed to gain his interest, not even today, when the grand sight before him was just a seedy bar in the armpit of a desolate town. There was nothing truly special about it, from the drab chipped colors to the tilted windows to the billowing smoke that escaped the front swinging doors.

“Aw, you'll really like this place!” Goofy chirped, hands deep in his pockets, his baggy clothes threatening to drop off completely should he misstep. “The folks here are super friendly, and the food can't be beat! Why, it's one of my favorite places in the whole wide world.”

“It certainly smells like the whole wide world's in there,” Donald grumbled, a hand over his beak. “Let's go in, get the details, and get out, okay?”

“C'mon, Donald!” Mickey chirped, pleasant as ever despite the aggravating aroma smacking his small black nose. “Think of it as another chapter in our story! I've never been in one of these places before, so it's going to be like making a landmark of a memory!”

Donald gave his friend a curt look, narrowing his eyes. “You know, not every new experience is a good one. You haven't been smacked in the head before. Want me to give you a landmark of a memory?”

Mickey playfully shoved his friend, who shoved back just as hard. Minnie rolled her eyes, though secretly she thought their entire friendship was quite adorable. They laughed and joked until Goofy strolled into the bar, which was when Horace suddenly stood in front of the rest of the group, blocking them from entering.

“Before we go in there,” Horace's voice became unusually serious. “You gotta know somethin' about the captain.”

Mickey tilted his head. “Whaddya mean, Horace?”

“I mean, you don't know everythin' about him!” Horace crossed his arms, his eyes lit with hard intensity. “For all of Sultana Scheherazade's stories, there's a big difference between listening to his life and seeing it right in front of you! What's beyond this door is something you won't see coming! It might change – no, it WILL change the way you see him!”

Minnie, Donald, and Mickey all stared with wide, startled eyes, but Clarabelle was rubbing her temples. “For gosh sakes, Horace...” Panchito and José quietly began to snicker.

“No, Clarabelle, they gotta know!” Horace stomped his foot, not allowing himself to be interrupted. “I wish someone had warned me way back then, but now I gotta live with it!”

The trio stayed quiet, uncertain what to do with this sudden twist. Mickey chewed on his bottom lip. He trusted Goofy with his life – after all, Goofy had saved Mickey from Pete's nefarious betrayal, and was helping him save his parents. But Goofy was also a sky pirate, and weren't pirates infamous for doing bad deeds? It was difficult to imagine Goofy doing anything remotely considered sinful, but Horace wasn't the type to pull gags like this.

“Is the whole 'goofy' personality just an act?” Donald murmured to no one, eyeing the bar doors. “I'm kinda afraid to look now!”

Minnie inched closed to Mickey. “Master?”

Mickey inhaled deeply – though he regretted it soon after, the stench of the bar was a powerful thing – and slapped a hand to his chest. “Stay close to me, Minnie, I ain't gunna let anythin' happen to you. But I've got faith in my captain Goofy! Whatever happens in there, we're in this together!”

Horace slowly stepped aside. “I hope you can still say that, after what you see.” After that, the rest of the group walked inside.

Unbeknownst to Mickey, this bar didn't look too different from most you'd find in other run-down cities. The wooden tables were lopsided, the music was too energetic for the lethargic customers drinking heavily, and there was a fog made out of pipe smoke. A few dancing girls were in a corner, using rainbow colored strips of fabric in their act. Mickey held onto Minnie's hand just in case, but he slowly noticed that the female to male ratio of the bar was rather heavy. He counted – there seemed to be eight women for every one man.

Goofy casually strolled up to the counter, lightly patting the counter once to get the barkeep's attention. “Howdy there, Sadira! How're you doin'?”

The barkeep – a dark-haired woman who had been washing a dirty mug – stopped what she was doing. “So...you finally showed your face around here...Captain Sinbad.”

“Aw shucks,” he replied, still smiles and sunshine. “You know you can just call me Goofy!”

Sadira slowly placed the mug down. Mickey grabbed the hilt of his sword, ready to pull it out if need be – Donald flexed his fingers, ready to test if he could finally use his powers to help, two or three hailstones of anticipation dropping near his feet – Minnie hid behind Mickey, holding her breath – Sadira looked at Goofy. “Does it really matter what I call you? All that truly matters is... How much I've missed you, Goofy!”

In that instant, all the females of the bar, be they customers, dancers, or waitresses, young and old, of all shapes and sizes – they all dropped what they were doing.

“Did you say Goofy?”
“Goofy's here?!”
“IT'S REALLY HIM!
“HE'S BACK, HE'S BACK!”
“GOOFY DARLIIING!”

In seconds, all the women inside the bar had latched themselves to Goofy, who had quietly taken a seat on a ripped apart love-seat. They clung to his arms and legs, exclaiming their sheer delight to see their wonderful, handsome, perfect Goofy again. Goofy merely patted their heads, saying he was happy to see them too.

Mickey, Donald, and Minnie had no words for whatever they were witnessing. Horace, however, had plenty, as he fell to his knees in agony. “Do you have any idea how many YEARS it took for Clarabelle to notice me?! Then I had to FIGHT to get her attention off of this...this...goofball! And everywhere we go, he gets ten girlfriends, JUST BY LOOKING AT THEM! I hate this guy!”

Clarabelle picked her husband up by the shirt collar. “Oh, knock it off, you big baby.”

“No, no, I think I get it.” Donald had to block his eyes with his hand, lest this ridiculous scene make him lose his temper. “I can't believe I'm jealous of a guy who can barely tie his shoes!” He looked to Mickey, expecting agreement, but Mickey was glancing back and forth between Minnie and Goofy – it was hard to tell if he was expecting competition, or wondering if he should seek advice about matters of the heart.

Goofy was oblivious to his friends' reaction, as he was politely declining kisses. “Now, now, ladies, I can't play around anymore. I only came by to get a little help for a friend of mine. See, I'm a married man now!” As proof, he removed his glove, and revealed a golden band around his finger.

Donald and Mickey shouted in loud unison, “You're married?!” and were instantly drowned out by the blasting chorus of wails from the upset women. They all began sobbing in unison, clutching Goofy even harder than before.

“Noooo!”
“Please say you're joking!”
“That's not fair!”
“Can't I be your mistress?!”

“Now don't be like that,” Goofy reprimanded the blubbering babes, waving a finger in disapproval. “She's a real nice lady! Classy too. Why, she's a chief's daughter.”

A flame lit in Mickey's mind, jarring him out of his stupor. “Wait a minute, I know that story!” He let go of Minnie, eager to paraphrase one of his mother's beloved tales. “Your ship landed on what you thought was an island, but it turned out to be a gigantic turtle! That's when you met the tribe of the moon people, and the chief's daughter had been kidnapped! So you fought off a race of fire-breathing mongrels to save her and get the turtle back on its original course! Then the chief thanked you by giving you a treasure chest of magic coins that doubled every time you opened the chest!”

Goofy chuckled, leaning back a bit. “Aw, your mom loves to exaggerate! It didn't go exactly like that...The island was just shaped like a turtle! The mongrels didn't breathe fire, they had torches! And the chest had regular old coins in it... Plus the chief's daughter, since she snuck in there. Turns out she took a likin' to me after I saved her. Who would've guessed!”

“Who would have guessed,” Horace repeated, ordering a stiff drink at the counter. Panchito and José stuck close to him to make sure he wouldn't drink heavily, quietly consoling him.

“Why are we only hearing about this now?!” Donald demanded, hopping on his feet. “This is something you say on day one!”

Goofy merely blinked. “You never asked.”

While Donald hemmed and hawed about that rather obvious reply, Minnie stepped forward, curious about a related matter. “Captain... If you're married, why are you out in the sky? Why aren't you home with her, and why isn't she with us?” Considering all the weird adventures she kept hearing about, part of her wondered if maybe the mystery wife was an invisible ghost haunting the hallways – at this point anything was possible.

“She's at home,” Goofy said, leaning forward and gently shoving back one barmaid who had been trying to fondle him. “Waiting for me. I visit her every once and a while, trying to get the last adventures out of me when I leave. She's the the next chief of her tribe, y'know. Her old man's getting, well, older, so she can't be away. Truth be told, I thought about hanging up my anchors for good... before Mickey's mother asked me to come.”

Mickey's eyes widened, and a snippet of guilt swung back and forth in his heart. He did feel bad that he was the reason Goofy couldn't go home to his beloved, but at the same time, that overwhelming curiosity about his mother's mysteries demanded to be answered. Why did she let Mickey believe Sinbad was merely a story? How did she know about all his tales if she only met him once? Why had she decided that on Mickey's fateful birthday it was time for him to learn what was real and what wasn't? He wanted to ask all of it now, but after Lotus Blossom's deception, he was trying when, if ever, it was helpful to reveal his true status in front of strangers.

“Oh, sweet, noble, silly Sinbad,” a voice called out from the small wooden stage in the back of the room. “Somehow I just knew that would be the reason... then again, I know everything.” That one voice caused Horace to down his drink in one gulp, Clarabelle to make sure the exit wasn't locked, and Panchito and José to cling to each other for security.

The silk curtains parted, and out stepped the owner of the bar in all her dramatic glory. Her long white hair was tied together in six different bangles, each one glitzier than the last, tossed over her shoulder to simply remind everyone how pretty she was. Mickey supposed she was pretty, the way Lotus Blossom had been pretty, the way art hanging on the wall could be pretty – he could see the appeal but not understand it or want to be around it for too long. Her face was heavy with make-up, almost giving the appearance she was wearing a mask and hiding her true intentions, yet her violet eyes were absolutely real and cutting deep. Golden armlets and bracelets clinked together as she walked, her flowing purple dress sashaying here and there. In her thin fingers was a golden pipe, emitting a wisp of smoke, decorated with the image of a small snake – it took Mickey three seconds to realize it was a real snake, perhaps a baby one, given its tiny stature. She took a puff between her yellow beak, exhaling a smoke heart after she was finished. “Greetings, one and all. I am Daisy Duck, madam of this lovely establishment.”

All the women previously lavishing attention on Goofy were now eager to climb over him in an attempt to get away from this woman, not that he minded. Goofy waved, the only person happy to see her. “Hiya, Daisy! Nice to see you again! How's everything been?”

“Ho hum, and fiddle de dee.” Daisy stepped off the stage, her purple high-heels clicking on the floor. Bar patrons scooted in their chairs just to make sure she wouldn't be near. “Boring, boring, boring. I swear, nothing is entertaining anymore! It's enough to make me want to lay in bed and never get up again.”

“Please do,” Clarabelle muttered, but not quietly enough.

Daisy smiled, lightly twirling her pipe in her hand. “Why, I've missed you too, Clarabelle honey! And you look ravishing, positively ravishing! Have you lost weight?”

Clarabelle looked down at herself, thrown off by the compliment. “Huh! Well, gosh, maybe! Thank you kindly!”

“Think nothing of it. I was just surprised, that's all... considering that chocolate stash you've been hiding from Horace under your side of the bed.”

“WHO TOLD YOU ABOUT THAT?!” Clarabelle screeched, eliciting a long raspberry from Daisy. The cow groaned, then joined her husband at the bar. “Never mind... she knows everything... Oooh, I hate her so...”

Mickey had a bad feeling about how this was going to end, so he decided to take the reins, stepping forward and bowing. “Thank you for seeing us, Miss Daisy.” It was only proper to introduce himself and some of the others, considering they were the newest additions to the crew. “My name is Mickey, and these are my friends, Minnie,” who also bowed in respect, “And Donald... Donald?” Donald hadn't moved since Daisy made herself known, a harsh blush taking over his bill.

The sunlight through the windows was now getting brighter and warmer, and Panchito and José grabbed handfuls of napkins to fan Donald down. That snapped him back to life, pushing them away. “Knock it off!”

Mickey ignored the potential teasing target to stay on track. “Anyway! We've come here to seek your help. Goofy's told us that when it comes to information, you can't be beat. And information is exactly what I'm lacking. Is it true that you know everything about anything?”

“Anything, and anyone,” Daisy replied, eyeing Mickey up and down, sizing him up. “There are few people in the world who know what I know, for there are few who have the gifts I possess.”

A light of hope dawned in Mickey's heart. “That's great! We could really use your help! We're looking for-”

“You're looking for your parents.”

“My parents, and-” Mickey stopped, now that he heard her. Did he hear right? He was positive he hadn't mentioned them being missing since they stepped into the bar. He glanced around to make sure – Minnie and Donald were equally befuddled. He looked toward Goofy. “Did you tell her...?”

“Nope,” Goofy admitted, only now looking a little worried. “Shoot, I didn't even tell her I was coming.”

Daisy chuckled darkly, enjoying the flickers of confusion she was causing. “Perhaps you didn't understand what our dear captain was telling you... I know everything. I know that our newest waitress has been flirting with the delivery boy. I know that three nights from now, a dim-witted robber will attempt to steal what we have. I know that back on the ship, your dog is going through your room to look for a toy. I know you're not some straggler looking for a little advice... You are Prince Mickey, the Son of Scheherazade, on a quest to find out who kidnapped your family.”

Mickey almost felt the floor give out beneath him. Whispers and surprised gasps fluttered through the bar about his parentage, and Mickey gulped audibly. How could she automatically know who he was by sight? Perhaps the situation about his parents had spread across the land, perhaps the knowledge that their only child had left to find them was getting across, but how could anyone know it was him? He wrestled with words. “I... I don't know what's going on, but if you know this much... do you know what happened to them? Do you know where they are?”

Daisy took a longer inhale of her pipe, and allowed the exhaled smoke to fall over her like a veil. “I know where they are, why there are there, and who took them there.”

Now Mickey stopped caring how she knew everything, because what she actually knew was far more important. “You do?! That's great!” He jumped for joy, grabbing his friends hands and dancing with them. “Did you hear that? She knows where they are! We can finally get on the right route and bring them home! This is fantastic! This is wonderful!” Donald ruffled Mickey's fur on his head, and Minnie squeezed her hands together in glee – but no one else looked as jolly. In fact, they appeared to be holding their breath, waiting for the other shoe to stop.

“Oh boy!” Mickey shouted happily, twirling around and getting right in Daisy's face. “Where are they? Where are they?” Daisy turned her pipe around and poked Mickey in the forehead with the pointy end. “OW!” Mickey yelped, stumbling backwards and holding his head. “What's the big idea?”

“I don't believe I ever said I'd give this information for free,” Daisy answered, and now the baby snake was leaving the pipe, slithering up her arm. “Not everyone's heart-strings are so easily tugged. Why should I give something for nothing? This is extremely valuable information. I hold the fate of the most famous storyteller in the world in my hands. What can you give me?”

Minnie frowned, crossing her arms and watching her master. Why was some storyteller worth so much? Since when did stories weigh as much as gold? “What a selfish demand...”

Mickey was hurt, but he found it didn't sting as hard as he thought it would. During this journey with his friends, he had discovered many greedy individuals. The world was full of them, it began to appear. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, not allowing his anger to surface this time. No, this was rational. “Right... all right. Don't worry, Minnie, this will be fine.” He faced Daisy, trying to show the wise, prideful manner of a prince. “Yes, we're prepared to pay. We have plenty of treasure to exchange, don't we, captain?”

“We sure do!” Goofy saluted, standing up and accidentally knocking over the last fangirl he had. “We've made lots of stops and hoarded lots of goodies! More than enough to keep any lady satisfied! And we're ready and willing to hand it all over right this minute if you can help my pal out. Whaddya say, Daisy?” He put his hands together, ready to beg – Mickey caught a note of extremely rare desperation in Goofy's voice. “Please? … No challenges?”

Daisy mulled this over, turning her pipe around and around, while the older members of the crew chanted “please please please” under their breath. Her eyes moved to every single member of the ship, and her eyes stayed on Minnie for an unusual amount of time before returning to Mickey, wickedly smiling. “You're a son who loves his parents very much... would you pay any price to know their fate?”

Mickey put his hand to his heart. “Yes, I would. Name it, and it's yours!”

“Wonderful. Hand over your lamp.”

All the pride and glory in Mickey died instantly, and his mouth opened in a long puff of noise, as if he'd been punched in the stomach. Minnie clutched her chest but didn't dare say a word, and Donald watched both of his friends in silent terror, his five-second infatuation forgotten. Mickey tried to breathe. “I, uh... you... you don't want this old thing!” He laughed nervously, pulling on his belt, trying to tug the lamp out of view. “It doesn't even work, won't light at all!”

“And yet you carry it with you wherever you go,” Daisy pointed at it, taking a step forward, causing Mickey to step back. “So clearly it has to be important. And the fact that you're so reluctant to let it go... it must worthwhile.” She held out an open hand. “Give it to me, and I'll tell you everything you want to know.”

“Just take the treasure!” Now the anger that Mickey had so easily quelled before came fast and hard, his fingers trembling. “Take everything on the ship, take every last coin we have, take the shirt off my back! You can have anything you want from us!”

Minnie felt her heart race as she watched him argue, even though she wasn't surprised by how vehement he was. Yes, by now she was certain he'd never let the lamp go before her freedom was won. But now what would the price be for his kindness? “Master...” Donald nodded solemnly, understanding what Mickey was thinking. None of the others seemed the least bit surprised by Daisy's venom, even disappointed Goofy.

“And yet, the harder you fight for it, the more I want it,” Daisy giggled, finding this all terribly amusing. “Oh, what a pickle we're in! But I think I know how to solve this. You see, there is something I desire more than anything else in the world... entertainment!” She snapped her fingers, the sound echoing. “That has far more value than any coin! So let's make this interesting!” With a cock of her head, she now seemed to be far taller than Mickey, looking down at him like a goddess from on high. “I challenge you to a game. If you win, I'll tell you everything about your parents... including what mommy dearest was hiding from you.” As she expected, this made Mickey stop, eyes so wide they threatened to roll out of his skull. “And if I win... I get the lamp. How's that?”

Goofy was about to warn Mickey to not accept any challenges from Daisy, but Mickey was far faster. “No,” he said immediately, not thinking it over for even a second. “I'm not going to risk it. If you're not going to tell me what I need to know, then we're done.”

Daisy tsked, cupping her beak with her hand. “Goodness, and that just makes me want it more. You really need to be careful about these sort of things, your highness. You won't even try to play? I doubt anyone in the world can tell you where your parents are.”

“We're done,” Mickey said again, quieter yet deeper, the chill of his words making the room feel colder. He turned on his heel, storming for the exit.

“Master!” Minnie called after him, and she ran to his side, grabbing his arm, “This might be your only chance! We don't have even have a clue where your parents could be, and-”

“NO!” Mickey's voice snapped out, grabbing Minnie by the wrist and holding her there. “We'll find another way! I am not risking losing-” “You”, he almost said, but managed to catch himself at the last second. With his rant broken off, he softened his hold on Minnie. “I made you a promise,” he said quietly in between large breaths. “And I am not going to break it. Maybe... maybe no one else out there knows what she knows, but I'll search the entire world first, look under every single rock, before I ever give up the lamp. My parents... they'd understand.” Mickey let her go, and resumed his walk to the door. One by one the others joined him, with Goofy sighing sadly, Horace commenting that this was actually one of their better visits, and Donald squeezing Mickey's shoulder in sympathy.

But Minnie didn't move. Her heart beat so loudly she could hear it in her big black ears. In Mickey's head, she understood, this wasn't a matter of deciding between Minnie and his parents. He believed they would find a way. But Minnie knew the dark ways of the world, that a mortal life could only take so much. The time they wasted in desperate search could mean the death of the Sultan and the Sultana. How much was he going to sacrifice for Minnie's sake? He was already struggling to restrain his affections, and now the very thing that put him on this dangerous quest... somehow he believed Minnie was worth all of this. Minnie didn't believe she was.

But she believed she could try to be.

Just as Mickey's fingers touched the wooden doors, he heard Minnie say, “My Master accepts your challenge.”

Mickey's heart jumped into his throat, making him choke before he could yell, “MINNIE?!”

Daisy clapped her hands once. “Is that right?”

Minnie marched to Daisy, glaring ice and hellfire at her opponent, jabbing her finger into Daisy's chest.“That's right. And he will win, and you will tell him everything about his parents!”

“Lovely, lovely, lovely.” Daisy clapped again, not intimidated in the least. “You had me worried there for a second that I'd be bored again!”

“What are you doing?!” Mickey cried out, now at Minnie's side and trying to drag her back. “Minnie, you can't do this! Do you understand what it would mean if I lost?”

Minnie refused to back down, meeting Mickey's eyes with full confidence. “If you really think I deserve independence... then it's time I do something of my own free will! Accept the challenge, and win! Don't give her any other choice!”

“This is not a good idea,” Goofy said from the back.

Mickey stared in wonder at the girl who had so much faith in him. He still didn't want to go through with this, but how could he deny her? He had told her over and over again that this was her life, and that he was not her Master. This was one of the few times in her life she had made a choice for herself, and Mickey could not take it away from her. Denying her this right would be just as bad as telling her what to do. He inhaled deeply in an effort to stop his thumping heart. This was the kind of trial heroes went through. Putting everything on the line for the right thing – he only hoped this was the right thing. He would have to make sure he won, no matter what. He steeled himself, straightening his back. “... If you believe in me, then... then I'll do it.”

“This is absolutely not a good idea,” Goofy tried again.

“Yeah, you can do it, Mickey!” Donald pumped a fist high in the air, lightning in his eyes and in his fingertips. There was nothing his best friend couldn't do! He'd defeated dangers far scarier than this! “Take her on and don't back down! We'll be behind you all the way! We're with you!”

“We're really not,” Goofy kept trying to insist.

Encouraged by his friends – and ignoring the unusually negative captain – Mickey held his head high, facing Daisy with courage restored. “Very well... I accept your challenge, Daisy! Bring it on!”

“A good spirit to have,” Daisy commented, turning away. “Return at sundown, and the game shall be ready and waiting for you. Do try to make it as interesting as you can... I'd hate for the fun to end so soon.” With a little laugh, she left the gang of heroes, retreating to a distant doorway in the corner.

Goofy sadly walked back to Minnie, lightly patting her head. “Well, it was nice knowing you, Minnie. Hope Daisy treats you well.”

Minnie swatted his hand away. “What are you saying? My Master will win, of course!”

“Yeah, she's right!” Donald agreed, getting annoyed. “Why are you so negative all of a sudden? What makes you think Mickey can't beat her?”

“Because,” Goofy finally explained, “Daisy can read minds.”

Mickey's confidence vanished so quickly he began to forget what it felt like. Minnie's jaw hung in a most unladylike fashion, and Donald's beak seemed to collapse in of itself. Mickey's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “She can what?”

“Read minds,” Goofy repeated with a helpless shrug. “That's how she knows everything. And no one who has ever accepted her challenges has ever won... She can't be defeated. Shoot, she's not even the original owner of this place – the last owner accepted her challenge and lost. How can you win against someone who knows exactly what you'll do?”

“WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE?!” Donald exploded, and a strike of lightning hit the roof, making everyone jump.

“You didn't ask-”

As Donald went on to throttle the captain, Minnie lightly tugged on Mickey's arms, now shaking like a leaf. “I, um... I'm sure... yes, I'm sure you can still find a way to win, Master...”

Mickey gulped. “That makes one of us.”

Chapter Text

Pete didn't have fond memories of his mother – he didn't have fond memories of anyone. But as he laid there with his swollen ankles, his aching stomach, and the stinging cuts on his face, he decided that the kind touch to his head was indeed motherly. His head lay in Sultana Scheherazade's lap, with her fingers tenderly stroking him as if he was her young son that was now far away. She was humming a soft melody, probably a lullaby from Mickey's baby days. Sultan Al sat with his wife, their backs together, his eyes on the only light in the wide, open cell. A small, square hole was several feet above them, impossible to reach, yet had three solid bars attached to it as if to further mock the prisoners. Sunlight was slowly leaving, and soon it would be night. Then the terrors would begin anew.

Scheherazade accidentally touched one of Pete's cut ears, and he flinched in pain, growling. “My apologies,” she said gently as she pulled her hand back. “I do not know why our captor tortures you so... but never give up hope.” She smiled serenely, never losing her beauty even in the worst of tragedies. “My son will come for us, and every day he is but one step closer to our rescue. Even now, he will gain an ally who will help him find this cursed kingdom.”

Pete grunted, but he didn't pull away. Even if he wanted to, he lacked the strength. “How can you know that?” But this was a question he knew the answer to. It was why he was there.

She resumed petting him. “In the town of Maelumat, they have found a girl with the gift. Once my son has claimed victory, she will be able to lead him where he needs to go.”

The Sultan thumped a fist to his chest. “She won't stand a chance! There is no son more clever than ours.”

Pete doubted this – sons of fools were fools themselves. Footsteps echoed off in the distance, and Scheherazade's kind touch now became tight, her warm eyes now ice cold. Sultan Al tried to get to his feet, but he was losing strength day by day. The footsteps came closer, and the door to the dungeon cell flew open. Spirals of inky black smog wrapped around Pete's feet, dragging him out – his fingers dug into the ground, Scheherazade tried to grab him, and Al struggled to chase the attacker. But as with every night, these attempts failed. The cell door slammed shut once Pete was gone, and he was lost to the darkness.

“Wretch!” Scheherazade screamed, rising to her feet, grabbing the iron bars and shaking them. “You wretch! You will never win, do you hear me? This kingdom of yours will never be what you desire!”

Even though they couldn't see a body, a chilling voice spoke in the dark. “I will have your son... and you will obey me, Lady Scheherazade. One way or another, you will do as I command.”

At the mention of her child, Scheherazade's screams became more frantic. “I will never tell you where he is! Never, not even if you put me to death! You will rue the day you ever thought of harming a single hair on his head! YOU WILL NEVER HAVE MY CHILD!” At this last shout, she broke into tears, and her husband took her into his arms, ashamed that he had no words to console her. All he had now was his faith, the faith in his son to win his game and become closer to freeing his loved ones.

Although right now, he was one of the few people who actually had that faith.

~*~

Not that the members of Goofy's crew weren't trying to have faith in Mickey – it was just becoming a difficult task. While they waited for the appointed time, Mickey paced everywhere his feet could go, struggling to think of strategies against the supernatural. What if he tried to meditate and empty his mind? Or concentrate on something else to block his thoughts? Or just tried to think of a song that would get stuck in his head? Minnie offered the obvious idea of using a wish, but to no one's surprise, it was immediately shot down. He didn't want to abuse Minnie in order to save Minnie. Then there was the biggest bother of them all, his pride, which he didn't tell anyone as he once more walked into the bar when the stars began to decorate the sky.

Mickey's pride had taken a severe blow thanks to Lotus Blossom, and here was a chance to restore what was left. If he wanted to prove he was more than just the Son of Scheherazade, this was the right opportunity for it. He'd have to use his brains to win the day – if only his brain didn't keep saying “I'm doomed” over and over again. He expected his adventures to be full of sword-fights and monsters, not games of wit. The bar was nearly empty, save for the last waitresses heading up a staircase behind the bar, though Mickey couldn't see where it led to. He advanced onward to where he saw Daisy leave before, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

It was Donald. “I know you can do it, Mickey.”

Mickey squeezed his hand in appreciation. “Thanks, Donald...you wouldn't happen to know how I can do it, do you?”

“Heck no. I'd have given up right away.”

Mickey rolled his eyes at that needless honesty, and that's when Panchito burst through their moment of friendship. “Have no worries, amigo! Jose and I have a brilliant idea to help you win the day!”

Jose took his cue from Panchito, suddenly and elaborately moving his arms and hands about. “We'll signal to you and let you know what she's doing! For example, if the challenge is the mischievous game of poker, and she has a queen of hearts, we'll do this!” He and Panchito then performed an absolutely nonsensical dance that had nothing at all to do with hearts, queens, or common sense.

“Uh... thanks, guys, we'll see how that works out.” Mickey drew out his words of gratitude, his last remaining optimism dying. He glanced at his elders, hoping to find some advice or well-wishes, but Goofy, Clarabelle and Horace were all equally nervous, not even able to look Mickey in the eye. They noticed his troubled glare, and gave a trio of shaky thumbs-up. “... Gee, guys, tone it down, or I'll be bursting with confidence.” His sarcasm dripped from his mouth, his entire body now sagging with uncertainty.

Mickey almost didn't bother looking at Minnie, thinking she'd be just as hopeless, but it turned out that she was staring at him with such intensity that he felt he'd melt into the floor. She looked him straight in the eyes, with no quiver to her tiny frame or wringing of her wrists. “You will win, Master,” she said without a doubt in her voice. “You must believe it, and believe in yourself.”

“That's easier said than done,” Mickey admitted, the door to Daisy's room now looking scarier than the open mouth of a shark. “I know that if I think about losing, I'll be sunk, but it's hard to think about anything else.”

Minnie glanced away, then back to him, her cheeks suddenly taking on a reddish hue. She had an idea to distract him – for her freedom! That's what this was about! Certainly nothing else. “Well... what if I gave you something to think about? Something that would make you positive you could win?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet doubtful. “Shoot, I'd take anything at this point. Whaddya got?”

Minnie jabbed her pointer finger to his chest. “Just remember, this is to build up your confidence. That's all. Don't go thinking it means anything more than that. I am a genie, and it is my duty to help my Master in all ways.” She was really more saying it to herself than him, and even then she didn't quite believe it. Regardless of all her silly logic, she leaned in and did it anyway.

She quickly kissed his cheek.

~*~

Within her room, Daisy was making the final arrangements for the challenge. Despite her domineering attitude, her quarters were very messy. Piles of both washed and unwashed clothes lay here and there, with won jewelries lazily stacked on tilted tables. Everything was done haphazardly – a colorful carpet was partially rolled, artwork was hung crookedly, and there was a smell that was possibly old food that had been forgotten about. It made for a startling contrast to the prim and proper beauty that sat at a round table in the middle of the room. She was wearing new trinkets and new make-up, her white hair now rolling down her arm, her pet snake nestled within her braid. The table was covered with a red sheet, with two cups of water. Daisy sat in a wooden chair, quietly shuffling a deck of cards, waiting for her opponent who would sit in the opposite one.

Above her was a shabbily-made balcony, made for the sole purpose of watching Daisy's challenges. She was specifically had it installed so people could come see her taken down challengers, her ego inflated with each face in the crowd. Waitresses and bar patrons were trying to get a good view, eager to see how this would go down, yet also feeling pity for her latest victim. No doubt he was getting ready to lick his wounds and go home crying to mama.

The door smashed open. “BRING IT ON, LADY!” Mickey shouted in a deliriously cheerfully loud boom. “I AM THE SON OF SCHEHERAZADE AND I CAN'T BE BEAT! I AM GUNNA BEAT YOU SIX WAYS 'TIL TUESDAY! AHAHAHAHAHA!” Some of the audience almost fell off the balcony in shock. What could have given him such maddening confidence?

Behind him, Minnie buried her face in her hands, embarrassed beyond belief. “Please make him stop.”

Mickey marched into the room, unable to stop grinning, and he slammed his hands on the table. “I AM GOING TO WIN, AND YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME ABOUT MY PARENTS, AND THERE AIN'T NOTHIN' YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT, MISSY!” Thank goodness Minnie had only kissed his cheek. Had she gone for the lips, he might have completely lost his mind.

Daisy, all the while, was unimpressed. She didn't even bother looking up as she continued to shuffle and reshuffle. “That was some kiss she gave you.”

“YOU BET IT WAS, AND SHE... how... did...” Like a balloon losing it's air, Mickey's voice lost its loudness as he looked behind him. The door had been shut, so how did Daisy know there had been a kiss – unless she read his mind? “Uh. Oh boy.” Talk about knocking the wind out of his sails – she capsized the entire boat.

Daisy lightly waved her hand towards the group. “Speaking of which, I'll need all of you joining the crowd upstairs. No need for cheaters.”

Panchito snapped his fingers in frustration. “Dang, and we just came up with a new set of hand-signals! Maybe we can sing him clues!” Jose began to hum in agreement.

Donald grabbed each bird by the arm and dragged them away. “If you ask me, a mind-reader is the biggest cheat of them all.”

“Good luck,” said Horace before he left.

“You're gunna need it,” said Clarabelle before she left.

Goofy lightly picked up Minnie in his arms. “All righty, let's head up before you smooch him again and he starts bringing the house down.”

“I DIDN'T KISS HIM BECAUSE I WANTED TO,” Minnie objected with a very loud lie, and the entire group made their way to the balcony as quickly as their feet could take them. Within a minute, they had shoved and pushed their way into the audience, with everyone trying to get a good look at the action.

With a heavy sigh, Mickey took his place at the table. “Now or never, I guess... what's the challenge?”

Daisy finally stopped shuffling, and held up one of the cards – on the one side was a blue and white checkered pattern. On the other was an illustration of an angelic woman, her arms open in grace, with billowing white robes and blonde hair masking her face. “In the west,” Daisy said, laying the card face-up, “there is a belief in beings called angels, who will lead the good to their paradise in the skies above. But there is also the belief in beings called demons, who will take you down to the underworld below. They hide in crowds of angels to lead sinners to their downfall.”

She then pulled out another card and laid it down – it was another angel, but this one was playing a harp, her head bowed in modesty. “In this deck, every angel has a match, but there is only one demon. We start with five cards. Each turn, you have three choices – match and discard the ones in your hand, pick a new card from the deck, or take one from your opponent.” She flipped another card down – it matched the first open-armed angel. “The game stops when one player is stuck with the demon, and is damned to the fiery pits below.”

“This sounds like Old Maid,” Goofy quipped.

“No, it's totally different and exotic and well-thought-out,” Donald whispered.

Daisy took the cards back and shuffled them back onto the deck. “This is your last chance to turn back, your highness. Give me the lamp willingly, and I'll tell you what you want to know... or you can lose the lamp, and your last chance at finding your parents.” She smiled sweetly, as if she wasn't driving a knife into his heart. “Is it really that hard a choice?”

Mickey glared as hard as he could manage, trying to hide his fears about his choices. “Deal me in, Daisy.”

“Suit yourself. Can't say I didn't warn you,” Daisy chirped pleasantly, and she doled out five cards to each of them, placing the deck between them. “As my first and last gesture of fair play, I'll let you go first.”

Mickey looked at the cards in his hands. Two angels were reading a book, one was playing the flute, one was the open-armed woman, and the last had the harp. This was a new game to him in many ways – his father preferred physical games, like playing tag and hide and seek. His mother was always inventing new games with her creative genius. But since he didn't have the demon, maybe things were off to a good start. “I pair.” He slid out the two book-readers and placed them beside the deck.

“I'll take from the deck,” Daisy swiftly took a card into her hand.

“I'll do the same.” This angel was taking a nap on a fluffy cloud.

“I pair.” And so the game went on peacefully for several turns. At first, it was dreadfully boring for the audience above. Some began to nod off.

Mickey's confidence began to return card by card. What was so challenging about this? Shoot, he could beat a child in this game! He glanced at Daisy, who took a sip of water and seemed the same as ever. He fought off a smirk. Maybe she was going easy on him and needed to put on a front for her customers – he could stand a little bit of babying if it meant he got what he needed! “I'll take from the deck.”

And he took the demon.

Even a person without mind-reading powers could have guessed this, judging from Mickey's wide eyes and the huge bite on his lower lip as if he was suppressing the urge to yelp in shock. Daisy chuckled quietly, fanning herself with her hand of cards. “Oh good, things are finally getting interesting!”

“Th-the game's not over yet,” Mickey stammered, trying to believe it himself. He now had six cards in his hand – the napping angel was still with him, an angel listening to a seashell, a pair of angels picking petals off flowers, one kneeling in prayer and lastly, the demon itself – a snarling dark entity with a man's face but goat horns, wearing a gray cloak and holding a scythe in its claws. He shuffled the small bundle in his hands, trying to think.

“I think I'll take sleeping beauty from you,” Daisy said, and she reached over, plucking the napper away.

Mickey froze. He hadn't even finished shuffling, yet she knew what was where! When did she start using her powers? Had she ever even stopped? “I... I'll take from the deck!” But as he reached over, he saw how small the deck was – when the game had started, it seemed like an endless deck. As a result, Mickey kept pulling, pairing, pulling, pairing, and now he could guess there were maybe twenty left. Very soon, it would just be a matter of picking between their hands. Had she planned it all along?

“I decided to go easy on you,” Daisy answered him, and Mickey almost jumped out of his seat. “You seemed to really need a boost of self-esteem after that pretty thief played with your heart. Shame you never got that kiss. I hoped it would've been worth something.”

Mickey slowly took the new card in his hands. “That was then, and this is now. I won't be fooled again!” Maybe if he shuffled them faster, she wouldn't know where the demon was, and he watched his own hands shuffle as quickly as they could.

“You have a pair of horn players on your right,” Daisy chimed in, still perfectly pleasant. “I mean, I could tell you how the entire game is going to go piece by piece, but maybe that would make things a little boring. And I can't stand boring things.” She reached over to pluck away one of the horns players. “Thankfully for me, your head is full of excitement. Daring adventures, new lands, it's all very thrilling...” She lifted her eyes from the cards to his face. “Except for you, poor dear. You are exceptionally, sadly, and undoubtedly dull. ”

Mickey swiftly took a new card from the deck. Even though they were going to run out of cards soon, he felt he couldn't afford to put any pairs down. If he had more cards, maybe it would buy more time. He bit his lip, trying not to say anything, trying not to rise to her bait, no matter how angry he got. “It can't be easy, being the Son of Scheherazade. Mom's got all the fame, and what have you got? A sword you barely know how to use? A flying carpet that doesn't obey you? Oh, by the way, your current strategy isn't going to work.” She placed a pair down.

Mickey could feel his heart beating faster, and he stared down at the cards in his hands. The demon stared back at him, and for a second Mickey thought he heard it laughing cruelly. He noticed that while the background of the demon's scenery was plain white, just like all the other cards, there was the tiniest of smears down in the left corner, a hint of gray. He didn't know why he picked up on such an inconsequential detail when there were more important things to worry about. He picked another card from the deck. Less than fifteen cards remained in the deck. How could he make her choose the demon?

“The demon will never belong to me,” Daisy answered for him, making his nerves extra jumpy. “I'll always know what you have because I'll always know what you know. I know everything about everyone. I know that Clarabelle can't fix her nail-biting habit, I know that Jose is running out of cigars, I know that you're panicking.” She chuckled quietly, taking sheer delight in Mickey's frustration. “Maybe it's a good thing you won't rescue your parents. They'd probably be disappointed to see how you're losing.”

“I won't lose,” but Mickey's voice was a whisper, afraid to look upwards and see the disappointed faces of his friends. No matter how much he moved his cards around, Daisy knew which ones to pick. At this rate, it would only be a matter of time before he was stuck with the demon. In a desperate move, he tried to take one of her cards, but before he could slid it into his hands, she merely snatched the same one back, using up her turn to mock him further.

“That lamp is going to look marvelous here,” she cooed, admiring all her treasures from past victories. “I just can't decide where I'm going to put it. Oh well, I'm sure I'll figure out what to do with it... it does have so many vast uses, after all. I wish I could tell you all the possibilities.” She giggled slyly, knowing what buttons to push.

Mickey took a card – now there were ten in the deck. Daisy must have known exactly who – rather, what – Minnie was to say such things, and there was no way she'd ever be a kind master. Minnie's faith in Mickey was going to cost her her freedom. What had he been thinking? He should have just told Minnie no and apologized later! This was going to be all his fault! He was going to lose her, and even worse, she was going to be miserable and chained the rest of her life! She didn't deserve that, no one did!

As Mickey's panic began to override all his senses, one of his hands went to a familiar ritual, rubbing the scar on his neck. The bandanna covering it slid down as he rubbed, revealing the golden hue it now took.

“That's the only problem I have with it,” Daisy lamented as she put another pair down. “I don't think I have any necklaces big enough to cover something like that. But I guess I'll just have to manage. Thank goodness I'm so beautiful that people will be looking everywhere else.”

Mickey furrowed his brows, annoyed by her vanity, knowing she was just rubbing in her victory all the more – but then he really heard it. She thought she was going to get the scar when she got the lamp. Mickey's hand stayed where it was, finally losing its shakes. The scar got its golden appearance by a wish, but the scar itself had been there ever since his childhood – from that one blood-soaked day – from the day of revenge - Mickey's eyes slowly began to widen. Daisy thought the scar came from the lamp. Did she not know where it really came from? How could she not, if she was reading his mind?

Unless...

Mickey's eyes met Daisy's eyes and refused to move. If he was right, there was one way to test it. He refused to look at anything but her, and instead of thinking about what cards to play or even that terrible day of his past, he thought one sentence over and over.

I'm going to knock my glass off the table.
I'm going to knock my glass off the table.
I'm going to knock my glass off the table.

Daisy plucked a card from Mickey's hand. “So, are you going to apologize to the little lady now, or will you wait until I win-” In that second, Mickey's hand suddenly lashed out, smacking his glass off the table and shattering it on the floor. Daisy jumped out of her seat, and members of the audience gasped in surprise. Daisy stared down at the mess, and then clicked her tongue. “Daddy's temper, I see. Maybe you did inherit something from your parents after all.”

But when she lifted her head, she didn't see a single trace of anger on Mickey's face. Instead, much to her shock, and the shock of those above, Mickey was grinning, displaying all his pearly-whites. “On the contrary, Daisy... I've never felt happier! I'm about to turn this game right back around!”

Daisy sat back down, snorting in disbelief. “Is that right? Or did the pressure make you snap?”

“I haven't lost my mind – maybe if you actually could read minds, you'd know that for a fact!” Mickey slammed all his cards face-down, eyes burning with new intensity. “I'm calling your bluff – you never could read minds! This has all been a trick!”

At last, there was a crack in Daisy's armor – she swallowed hard, slow, her fingers drumming the table beat by beat. Up above, whispers began to turn into shouts. “She can't read minds?” Goofy repeated, scratching his head. “How can that be? She knows everything!”

“She doesn't know my Master!” Minnie was on the edge of the balcony, clicking her heels over and over in delight. She was so thrilled by this turn-around she forgot her whole 'cold as ice' act.

“That's a dangerous assumption to make, your highness,” Daisy finally replied, snatching a new card from the deck, the first time she'd done so in ages. “What makes you think I'm not what I say I am?”

“You've got some kind of trick up your sleeve,” Mickey admitted, removing the bandanna from his neck. “But this right here...for the longest time, I wore it as a mark of shame for my family. The real memory behind this haunted me for years... but today, I'm wearing it as a badge of honor! Because you can't tell me where it really came from, can you?” He hadn't told a single person the ship – he hadn't even told Pluto. There were only a handful of people who knew the origin of the scar, and Mickey knew Daisy wasn't one of them. “If you can really read my mind, then read it now, and tell me how I got it!”

Daisy didn't answer right away, but her cheery demeanor had begun to darken considerably. The drumming on the table got louder and faster, nearly making the table quiver. The snake in her hair poked its tiny head out to hiss, only stopping when Daisy spoke in a cold tone. “Nothing says you've won yet. As long as you still have the demon in your possession, the game is far from over. I know exactly what cards you had!”

“But do you know exactly where they are?” Mickey countered, placing his hands back on the table. Without waiting her for her to answer, he began to shuffle them around quickly, never looking down. “Somehow you saw what I saw – but if I can't see what I have, how can you?” It was a dangerous gamble, but for now it was all he had.

“You'll regret messing with me, kid!” Daisy snapped, reaching over to take a card. Relief flooded her face, and she turned it over to reveal an angel lighting a candle. “Seems like lady luck is on my side. Rather fitting, since your experience with ladies is less than nil.”

“Your head games won't work on me anymore.” Mickey took a card from the deck, reshuffling the ones on the table. “You know information, but you don't know people! You know what you see, but you can't see anything past that! You see me only as the Son of Scheherazade, but I'm much more than that!” She couldn't read his mind, so now he was free to think again! If she was more focused on playing mental tricks on people, then she wasn't a real strategist after all. That meaningless detail from before – had a part of him known it would come in handy? “I'm more than who I came from.” He laid his cards back down, and now afforded a look at their backs. If that one card had a stain on its front, if he was right about where it came from – he slid one card a quarter-inch above the rest -

“You'll never be anything more than the Son of Scheherazade!” Daisy declared as she snatched a card, but her confidence was obliterated when she saw what was in her hands. “W-what the..? How?” There in her fingers sat the demon in all its hellish glory.

Mickey smiled, and for the first time since the game started he looked up at the audience. All their previously downtrodden faces were now glowing in happy surprise, with Donald, Jose, and Panchito all dancing in an ill-placed circle. Clarabelle and Horace were hugging, Goofy was laughing, and Minnie was gazing at him in wonder, her hands on her cheeks, eyes starry. Mickey was definitely going to remember that last one for a long time. “It's an old kid's trick... you push the card you want your opponent to take just a little bit up, and they'll grab it because it's closest!” With his hand free of demons, he picked his cards back up and placed a pair down.

Daisy inhaled deeply, taking a new card from the deck. Soon it would be completely empty, and they'd be down to the ones in their hands. “I won't fall for that again. Just because I have the demon doesn't mean anything's decided yet! Whatever gifts I have, you have none. You have no idea where it is!” She shuffled her hand, but Mickey wasn't wavering – he swiftly took one card from her, returning the candle angel to his hand.

Deck, pair, pair, deck, pair, deck, deck, deck – several turns passed, with crowd beginning to cheer for Mickey each time a card was taken. Now the deck was gone, and the two opponents had only what was left in their hands. Daisy had five, Mickey had four. At one madcap turn, Daisy tried to pull the same trick on Mickey he'd done for her, but it failed, and now Daisy was left with four, and after Mickey placed a pair down, he had three.

Daisy wiped sweat from her brow, her eyes dancing back and forth between her cards. “How can you possibly know what you're doing? I've never lost a single game in my entire life! What makes you think someone like you can beat me?”

“I said it before, Daisy,” Mickey snatched another card from Daisy, leaving her with three. “You don't see beyond the surface!”

“What can you see that I can't see?” Daisy yanked a card back. “There's nothing I can't see!”

Back and forth, back and forth, a pair – now Mickey had one card, and Daisy two. It would take just one movement to end everything, and judging from Mickey's beaming face, he knew exactly what to do. He stood up out of his chair, feeling tall for one of the very few times in his short life. “You know how to play people like a fiddle. You can't see what's in their heads, but you know how to get in them. It makes people mighty nervous... and I bet you've played this exact game with a bunch of people. And when you play your tricks, they get so nervous they sweat. And you've used this trick and this game on so many people... it's left its mark!” The stain on the corner of the card had been a sweaty thumbprint – and there were similar, small stains on its back, where the other fingers would have been! Daisy had been so used to messing with people she never took an actual good look at the cards she used. While the other cards bore the marks of time, the demon's smears stood out most of all.

With one last pull, he took away the remaining angel card, holding it with the last card and flashing them both for all to see – two harps. “I walk with the angels, Daisy – game over!”

The crowd exploded into ecstatic cheers, people kissing and hugging each other, threatening to break the poorly-made balcony with each triumphant jump. The beastly owner of the bar had been bested! The impossible had been done! Three cheers for the Son of Scheherazade! Who's the leader of the club that's made for you and me! M-I-C-K-E-Y-M-O-U-S-E! Minnie pushed past the chants and cheers, trying to get back down the stairs so she could see Mickey face to face. Once again, he had done what others thought couldn't - or just thought he couldn't. Was there no limit to his strength, to his bravery, to his cleverness? He was truly something, wasn't he?

There came that strange, warm feeling in her chest, but now it was much more intense, like a fever, which was strange because genies didn't get sick. How odd. Oh well, it was hardly anything to worry about now – Mickey had won! His parents were as good as rescued! Freedom was almost hers! Mickey had won, Mickey had won, her marvelous Master had won!

Daisy stayed silent in her seat for a long time, her fingers curling and crumpling the demon card. This was a new sensation for her – loss. She took her time leaving her seat, her eyes unreadable. She walked around the table, her every step a stomp. “That...was...SO MUCH FUN!”

Mickey dropped his cards. “Huh?”

“I've never lost before! This is amazing!” Daisy grabbed Mickey's hands, swinging them around happily. “Oh, thank you, your highness! You've brought the most excitement I've ever had in my whole entire life! This was grand!” She even hugged him tightly, popping one foot up. “A true cure for my boredom at last! I've never been happier!”

“You're... welcome?” Mickey replied in confusion – given all the enemies he'd dealt with before, he was expecting something along the lines of “You'll rue the day!” or “Curse you, boy!” Even though he had uncovered some of the truth about her, he was quite certain he'd never entirely understand her. “You are still going to tell me about my parents, right?”

“Fiddle-de-dee, of course I am, silly.” Daisy lightly poked his nose, and then went to a pile of clothes to dig something from within. She popped out an old cloth bag, and began to stuff it with clothes and jewels. “But first, it's time to pack.”

While the bar patrons above were still partying, Goofy's crew stopped. Clarabelle went white. “Did she say pack?”

“I have a bad feeling,” Horace added. Just because Daisy wasn't a mind reader didn't stop her from being unpleasant to be around.

“Pack?” Mickey scratched his head. “What for?”

“Well, you don't expect me to travel with you guys without my things, do you?” she chirped, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

“Travel – that wasn't part of the deal!” Mickey squeaked, looking up at his friends for help, but they'd already started running, hoping to get to the ship before she did.

“It wasn't not part of the deal!” Daisy said, chipper as she looped her arm around Mickey's. “Oh, and don't take what I said during the game too seriously. You're a good kid! I just like messing with people. Think of me as the troll under the bridge, bothering the billy-goats as they pass.” She then proceeded to drag the stunned mouse to the door.

Mickey had won, but he was also starting to feel he'd also somehow lost. “Didn't the troll eat the billy-goats?”

“Tomato, tamata.”

The door opened before they made it, with Minnie ready to heap praise upon her Master. “I knew you could do it! I knew you were...” She trailed off, seeing the two arm-in-arm. “... Did I miss something?”

“Yep.” Daisy grinned. “We're eloping!”

“WHAT?!”

“Heeheeheeheeeeeeee~! Just kidding.” Daisy laughed, pushing Minnie aside to walk on. “This is going to be so much fun! So many new toys to play with!”

And so the terror of Maelumat finally left, leaving the waitresses wondering who owned it now, before deciding to form the world's first worker's union.

~*~

Pete could taste blood in his mouth, and he didn't want to look up. Yet even when his eyes shut, he knew who stood before him with a whip in his hand, and he heard the dark chuckles vibrating in his ears.

“So, the boy is in Maelumat?” the shadowy master confirmed. “Excellent work, Pete. She won't tell me a thing... but as long as she's convinced you're just as much my prisoner as she is, she'll spill her guts to you all day long.”

“Speaking of guts spilling...” Pete groaned, his hands on his stomach. “How about we call it quits early tonight?”

The man tsked. “Now now... we have to make her believe I'm torturing you, and make it look real. If you want their kingdom to belong to you again, you'll just have to endure it. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, so it's said.”

Pete didn't know how that could be right, when he felt as weak as a kitten, and not just physically. Every day, as he felt the motherly touch at day and the stinging whip at night, his soul and humanity died a little bit more.

“My kingdom will return to its glory,” said the dark being, raising his weapon again, “And soon, all will worship The Phantom Prince!”

Chapter Text

It had been roughly fifteen minutes since Daisy boarded the ship, and she was already wearing out her welcome. She had chosen her room and placed down her bags, pleased at her decision. “Yes, this will do just nicely.”

“Uh, actually,” Donald tried to explain as he stood in the doorway, with Panchito and Jose watching inquisitively. “This is my room.”

Daisy immediately whipped her head around. “Oh, so you don't want me to have a room, is that it?”

Startled, Donald held up his hands defensively. “What?! No, I just-”

“You want to send me into the cold, harsh world without a roof over my head, I see! Oh, such cruelty this world throws at me!” she whined, an arm to her forehead.

“I'm not saying that at all! It was my room first and-”

“Ooooh, I get it now!” Daisy was suddenly in his face, causing him to bend backwards. “You want to make this our room, you devilish man! The male-to-female ratio here is terribly askew, your hormones have driven you insane, and you're ready to pin down the first vivacious female you see! I'm flattered, of course, perhaps even curious.”

Donald's face became hot red, and a storm cloud popped over his head. “I-I-I never-I-I never said anything like-”

“So which is it, fiddle de dee? Do you want to throw me off the ship and let the horrifying muggers ravage me, or do you want to have that filthy duty all to yourself?”

“TAKE THE DANG ROOM!” A lightning bolt snapped down between Panchito and Jose, making the birds applaud as if it was a stunt.

Daisy twirled back around. “Thank you!” she chirped, and then flounced away to unpack her things.

Donald dragged himself out of the room, feeling worn out. “What just happened?”

“Never fear, Donald!” Panchito declared, grabbing Donald's shoulder. “We know you would never lay a hand on her!”

“Much agreed!” Jose clamped his hand on Donald's other shoulder. “But if you ever did want a chance at her, we would support you all the way! For we are the three caballeros!”

Donald was unsure if he should be relieved or worried at their help. It was about this time that Mickey and Minnie finally caught up, with Mickey rushing into the room. “Hang on a minute! You can't just run off and steal rooms and do whatever you want! You promised me you would tell me about my parents!”

“And I always keep my word, except when I don't,” Daisy calmly replied, rolling out new curtains. “Besides, when we made the deal, I never said when I'd tell you about your folks, now did I? Why, for all you know, you agreed that I would tell you forty years from now.”

Mickey struggled for words through his rage-filled mind, but Minnie found them much easier. “You horrid woman! You knew exactly what he meant and wanted!”

Daisy laughed a little as if this was all a silly joke. “Oh, relax, mini-ature. I'm only teasing. But you all should learn more about loopholes, it would save you a lot of hassle. Guess that makes another good reason for me to stay, aside from all the fun I'll be having.” She then straightened her back, holding out her hand. “The best stories are told over a full stomach. I'll tell you everything I know at dinner. And to make up for this headache, bring your magic carpet. I'll teach you how to master it.”

Mickey inhaled as deeply as he could manage, suppressing his anger for another day. “Fine...but you better mean it!” He grabbed Daisy's hand to shake it, and his grip was very firm. “Talking and teaching, no take-backs.”

Minnie still wasn't so sure, crossing her arms and sticking her nose up. “I'm not so sure about this, Master. How do we know she's telling the truth this time?”

“You don't,” Daisy answered, pulling her hand back. “But here's the deal. You can always trust a dishonest person to be dishonest. It's the honest ones you have to look out for, you never know when they'll change their minds.” Mickey and Minnie paused, trying to make sense of that heap of nonsense, and Daisy strutted out the door. “I'll unpack later, now I want to tour my new home! Toodles!”

Minnie gave up. “I don't care for her.”

Mickey sighed. “Look, she must know my parents somehow, and if Goofy likes her, there must be good in her somewhere.” Although he was having a suspicion that Goofy would like toe fungus if it was nice enough. “I'm willing to take any annoyances she gives in order to see them safe. We just have to push through it.” With that in mind, he put a fist to his heart. “I can take whatever she dishes out!”

“I think she just said she's going to try and paint Pluto purple,” Jose said from the hallway.

“GET HER AWAY FROM MY DOG!” Mickey sprinted out of the room, leaving Minnie to, yet again, question many of Mickey's choices.

Unfortunately, much of the day was spent dealing with Daisy's disasters. She rifled through Clarabelle's clothes, then lamented that nothing would fit her, and when Clarabelle got upset, clarified she meant height, naturally, of course she wasn't implying that Clarabelle was a big fat heifer, but if that's what Clarabelle thought of herself, maybe she needed some counseling. Daisy then went on to playing Panchito's guitar and breaking two of the strings, promising him she felt no need for payment over her cut fingers. She stole some of Jose's cigars, she lied to Goofy about Pluto falling overboard, and she tricked Horace into ripping a hole into his good pants. And though the urge to throw her overboard increased with every passing minute, the ship was already on its way. There was no getting rid of her now.

Later on in the day, only a few miles away from the town, Minnie was watching the quiet scenery pass them by. It was one of the rare occasions where she made herself stay away from Mickey so she could better collect her thoughts. If Daisy was finally saying the truth about something this time, it meant they were a huge step closer to finding his parents, ending their journey, and getting her freedom. That left a huge question which she didn't have the answer for – what next? She was so used to being a genie and a servant that the idea of doing anything else was unfathomable. What was the point of freedom if you didn't know what to do with it?

She mulled this over, her mind continuing to blank. Maybe she could ask Mickey for some ideas. Then again, his future was already set – he was a prince, so one day he would be sultan. He had his whole future lined out for him so he never needed to think about it. Come to think of it, it did seem he wanted at least one other thing – to be known as someone other than the Son of Scheherazade. Why did that matter so much? What could his mother have done to become so important? And if she had done something that amazing, why wouldn't he want to be known by that title? Why not take it with pride?

Minnie was so lost in her thoughts that she'd yet to realize she wasn't alone until she sighed deeply and Daisy's voice came. “I agree, sister.”

Minnie jerked, pulling back, staring at the woman now next to her. “Agree? Agree about what? You can't read minds, my Master proved it!”

“Well, aside from messing with you,” Daisy leaned on the railing of the ship, a freshly lit pipe in her fingers, “I can also read people. Expressions, movements, context, you add it all together and you can learn a lot. Like right now... I can tell you're tense and nervous about me trying to rattle you, but I assure you, that's not what I came here to do.” She smiled, and it even seemed to contain a hint of kindness. “I know you're a genie, but first and foremost, you're a girl, just like me. So I'd like us to get along.”

Minnie eyed her, unwilling to put her guard down just yet. “Really? That's all you want?”

Daisy took a puff of her pipe, looking away. “It's all right... I know you don't believe me. I've told so many lies over the years that I honestly don't know how to stop. I don't even know who I am anymore.”

At this, Minnie's icy eyes began to soften. She couldn't help but hear something familiar in those words. Years of forced servitude had also taken away much of Minnie's personality, so it was easy to lose her sense of self. “I'm...very sorry to hear that.”

Daisy managed to smile again, twirling the pipe in her fingers. “You're a good kid. You care about others, even beyond your magical obligation. Something about that just makes me want to return the favor and help you too.”

Minnie tilted her head. “Help me with what?”

With one more puff, Daisy traced a heart symbol in the smoke. “Your feelings for your 'Master'.” She then immediately held a hand up as Minnie began to protest. “Let's not beat around the bush, shall we? You can flail and shout and deny all you like, but I know what I've seen. He's not going to make a move as long as you're a genie, and that's respectable. But what's gunna happen with you two once the lamp's out of the picture?”

Goodness – Minnie hadn't expected Daisy to get to the heart of the matter so quickly! She began to nervously play with the rings on her fingers, refusing to meet Daisy's eyes. “I don't... I don't know what you could possibly mean...” But, boy, it was something to think about, wasn't it? What would he do once she was no longer bound to him? What would she do? Was there anything to be done?

“I know I'm not exactly the best person to give out this kind of advice,” Daisy went on, ignoring Minnie's denial. “But I want to be there for you, okay? It's not going to be an easy relationship, but I think it'll be worth it.” Minnie stayed silent, and Daisy came in, tenderly putting an arm around the girl's shoulders. “He's a great guy, and he clearly cares a lot about you. And, like it or not, you care a lot about him. So... don't worry so much. Just stay the way you are, the nice, sweet gal you are, and nothing else has to change.”

Very, very, very slowly, Minnie began to lift her head, her voice barely a whisper. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Daisy squeezed Minnie's shoulder. “Trust me. Just be yourself...and you'll be his favorite among the harem in no time.”

Minnie had been this close to thanking Daisy when she heard that word. “...his what?”

“Oh sure, it'll be hard to top the ones he's had for years,” Daisy rolled her hand, casually continuing, “But age sure doesn't beat beauty! At the very least, you'll be in his top-three. I think that's something to be proud of.”

“His WHAT?!” Minnie shrieked so shrilly that it caused Pluto – and any other canines to hear it – wincing in pain.

Daisy's hand flew to her beak in mock shock. “Oh my, didn't you know? I do forget how sheltered you can be. Every prince at his age has a harem! Everyone knows that! I suspect a handsome-looking boy like him has got about six or seven women in there now. But don't you fret!” She lightly slapped Minnie's shoulders, enjoying the sheer horror on the genie's face. “Just because he's spent so much time with them doesn't mean he enjoys spending time with you any less! Why, you'll get along with those ladies just fine, I bet. They can teach you all about Mickey's OWWWWWWW!”

A third party had joined the scene, via Mickey yanking down Daisy's ponytail as one would pull a stubborn curtain cord. “What. Are. You. Telling. Her.”

“How rude!” Daisy sniffed, slapping Mickey's hand away. “With that kind of attitude, I bet you only have three or four women in your-”

“DAISY.”

“Fiiiine.” Daisy tied her pipe into her hair. “I bet it's just about dinner-time, isn't it? Bring the carpet to the table and we'll begin.” Once again, she flounced away freely.

Mickey glared after her, and then shyly met Minnie's face. He cleared his throat. “I do not have a ha... har... one of those things. Nobody does. It's an old myth.”

“Oh. Oh yes! Of course. Of course not.” Minnie said, flustered, walking with Mickey and talking as fast as she could. “I didn't believe her for a second, no, not a single one, never.” Maybe if she said it as many times as humanly possible, it'd stop that awful imagery in of her head. Or at least stop imagining them all with Lotus Blossom's head. “Nooo, not me, not at all.”

Mickey allowed Minnie to yammer on as they returned to his room to fetch the rolled up carpet, with Mickey carrying it over his shoulder. “I hope she can at least tell me how to use this,” Mickey said as Minnie ran out of ways to say the same thing. “Having a flying carpet would be pretty neat to have in battle. Maybe mother knew I would need it for just that kind of thing.”

Perhaps out of desperation to stop thinking about Mickey surrounded by gorgeous women, Minnie latched onto the new topic. “Master...what kind of woman is your mother?”

They had gotten to the hallway when Mickey stopped, looking back at Minnie. He'd never officially confirmed it before, perhaps only suspected it, but here was definite proof – she had no idea who Scheherazade was. He had taken this news with great joy, since here was someone who could identify and know him without automatically putting him in his mother's shadow. But she would have to learn about his parents someday, and that included the whole tale. When she knew, would she only see the shadow as so many others had? It was as if almost everyone in the world saw him as the creation of a perfect goddess.

… Not that there wasn't the possibility of her feeling something else, and he rubbed the scar on his neck, the evidence that someone else certainly did. Mickey finally spoke. “She's... a storyteller.” For a quick, terrible moment, he contemplated telling Minnie his mother's flaws in an effort to separate him from her. Yet he couldn't. “But she's more than that. She's... kind, and caring, and loves everyone she meets. She just wants to help people, even the people she's never met before.” With a roll of his shoulders, he walked and Minnie followed. “She's clever and smart. She's fun and playful. She's... someone I love very much. And I want to make her proud of me. Actually proud.” Not the false, automatic pride that came with being of the same blood.

Minnie tried to envision the kind of woman Mickey was describing, but couldn't. To be honest, it sounded like anything any loving son would say of his mother. What made this woman into a stolen treasure? Besides, Mickey had those same qualities himself, as far as Minnie was concerned.

In the dining room, Daisy was alone, and she looked up to see Mickey enter. For once she appeared serious, and Mickey hoped she finally was. “Good,” she said, pointing to the floor. “We can get started. Lay the carpet down, and we can begin the ritual.”

“Ritual?” Mickey asked while doing as he was commanded.

“Right now, that carpet will only obey your mother. When you create a magic carpet, you need a piece of yourself within the fabric to give it a master. If I had to guess, she probably gave the creator a string of her hair. Now you need to override it with something stronger.” She held out her pipe, turning it around so that the sharp end stuck out. “One drop of blood ought to be enough.”

“This better not be a trick,” Minnie muttered under her breath, in no mood to forgive Daisy for a long time.

Mickey, on the other hand, went along with it. Granted, he was still wary, but surely Daisy had to start being truthful somewhere or else she'd be booted off the ship soundly. He held out his hand, and Daisy pricked the pipe into his left pointer finger. Mickey bit his lower lip, wincing slightly as red began to spill over. “Place the blood in the middle of the carpet, and tell it who it belongs to.”

Mickey knelt down on the carpet, and placed his finger right in the middle of it. The carpet began to take on a mystic glow, the frayed edges floating up. “I... I am Prince Mickey,” he said slowly, trying not to let the magic around him be a distraction. “The Son of Scheherazade. I will be your master from now on. Thank you for helping me before... but now it's time we work together. I need your help to save my parents.” The blood seeped into the carpet, and the entire fabric momentarily flashed red – Mickey thought he heard a bizarre hum of agreement – and then the glow faded, the edges flopping back down. When he pulled his hand up, the injury to his finger had vanished as if it had never happened. “Wow...”

“We're not done yet,” Daisy instructed, wagging a finger. “Now, you need to stand on your head.”

Mickey jerked his head up. “What? Really?”

“The carpet needs to know you will do anything in order to make this relationship happen.” Daisy slapped her hands together, impatient. “So get to it!”

“Well... all right...” Who was Mickey to question the correct way to master a magic carpet? He placed both hands flat on the carpet, trying to push himself upwards. It took several tries, several falls, and he was fairly sure Minnie was looking away because this was getting embarrassing. When Mickey finally mastered it, he wanted to shout in triumph, all he could get out was a dizzy, “I thiiink I got it... is there anythiiing else...?”

“Now you need to make up a poem about things that rhyme with orange. That tells the carpet you can overcome the impossible, so it can respect you!”

“Uhhhh...” Mickey felt his breakfast coming up. Or down, given his body position. “Ummm... there once was a big orange, that... it... um... a-orange, b-orange, c-orange...”

This was about the time the rest of the crew entered the dining room, with Clarabelle and Horace carrying dishes of food and the birds carrying plates and silverware. Everyone stared at this odd display, but only Goofy had the idea to actually ask, “Mickey, what are you doing?”

“Letting me prank him,” Daisy answered.

Mickey fell over on his stomach with a loud THUD. “... Was any of that real?!” he snapped once his eyes stopped swimming.

“Oh, sure, the blood thing was real. Who's ready to eat!” Daisy hopped into a chair, taking Goofy's usual spot at the end of the table.

Minnie came over to help Mickey stand up. “If you used a wish to make her stop being so terrible, I really wouldn't mind.”

“Don't tempt me,” Mickey muttered. He grabbed the first seat he could find and sat down. “Will you... PLEASE... start telling us what we need to know already?! I can't take much more of this! No more lies, no more tricks, just tell me how I can find my family!”

Horace raised his hand. “Long as you're revealing things, how did you know all our secrets if you're not a mind-reader?”

Clarabelle shoved her own portion of the food on the table so she could quickly sit down. “And what's the deal with whoever took them? Why would they want this Sultana out of all the other rulers out there?”

“What was with those shadow creatures at the castle?” Panchito asked, and Jose at his side followed up with “Why did the Sultana let Mickey think we were just stories?”

“And how did she know where I was to invite me to Mickey's birthday when we only met the once?” Goofy didn't mind giving up his seat, now placing himself next to Daisy.

Daisy didn't answer anything, waiting silently as everyone sat down and gazed her with expectant eyes. She still said nothing when she lit her pipe, and her pet snake slid out of her hair to snuggle up on her shoulder. She puffed and exhaled a cloud of smoke, and when she opened her eyes, Mickey thought he saw a strange sort of glitter to them – yet it was also familiar. He couldn't place it.

“I think it's only fitting,” Daisy spoke at last, pulling the pipe out of her mouth and playing with the smoke, making it circular. “That the fate of Lady Scheherazade should begin with a story. From here on out, there are no falsehoods, there are no illusions...what I am to tell you is something that has been passed down from generations.” She paused, noticing Minnie's extra hard glare. “Okay, so why should you believe me now? I'll give you proof, then.” She stood up out of her chair, grabbing the sleeves of her dress. “My words can be misleading, but the body is always true.” She began to pull down her dress.

Mickey yelped, and Jose and Panchito tried to cover Donald's eyes before he slapped them away. But she wasn't trying to flash a pretty body – it was the exact opposite. Just above her bosom was an alarming number of marks, burns, scars, and other hideous healed injuries. “My real gift has led to me being hunted like a wild animal, and some people will do anything to get their hands on it. Eventually I had to lie about what it was, just to try and escape that kind of life. So I led people to believe I could read minds instead of what I could really do. It's easy to dismiss that mind-reading isn't real, so I didn't think people would take it seriously.”

As she readjusted her clothes, the crew had to wonder if the rest of Daisy's body was covered in such awful conditions, but no one asked. She resumed her seat, and took another puff. “I doubt many people who have this gift are still alive. In fact...the only other person I know who has it is the Sultana. And it all begins with this story.”

“Once upon a time, when magic was new and the earth was young, there was a kingdom of happiness and prosperity...the name has been lost to time. The royal family was dedicated to serving their people and helping one another, and because of this, they were obsessed with magic. Day and night they would create new spells, all for the sake of the kingdom they loved. For centuries, things were peaceful... but of course, things don't stay that way forever.”

“It came to be that the next heir to the throne was undecided. A pair of twins had been born to the Sultan and Sultana, a boy and a girl. Only one could rule the kingdom, and so when the two were of age, their father gave them a challenge. They would bless a handful of townsfolk with a special spell that would benefit them and their kingdom, and their father would decide which spell was more useful for all. The daughter thought long and hard about what to give her people, and after many days and many nights, knew what to do. Since women were easily viewed as weak and helpless, she would give them a gift only they could have to protect themselves and help others, one that could be inherited through daughters. That gift is what I have, and what Scheherazade has – the gift of All Seeing Eyes.”

“I can't read minds. But I can see through your eyes. I can see through anyone's eyes, so long as I know their name. It's as if I'm with them right at that moment – seeing all that they see with their own two eyes. The more names I learn, the more people I can see through, in an almost endless cycle. And that gift is what allowed Scheherazade to create one thousand and one nights – by seeing through one thousand and one eyes.”

Mickey felt as if the boat had suddenly been anchored and sunk down. “What?” he asked, even though he knew what he heard. The evidence was clear in his memories – how else did Daisy know the exact cards Mickey had in their game? How else did she know of their past even though they never met? “But that's...” Yet even as it all connected together, he could not accept it so easily. “That can't be... Her stories saved her life! They saved everyone's lives! Are you telling me she never made up a single story?”

Daisy shrugged one shoulder. “I wouldn't say she never created one story by herself... but anyone with this power can witness the whole world and all its tales. By meeting Goofy once, she had access to every adventure he would ever take.”

“But that can't be!” Mickey insisted, shoving himself out of his chair. “She's the most famous storyteller in the entire world! And everyone expects me to be like her! You... you can't tell me everything was a lie! That she was never clever or smart enough to last all those nights by herself! You can't say that! You can't!” This had to be one of Daisy's lies, another ridiculous trick meant to hurt him. He had been uselessly compared to his mother since he was born, told of her wit and brilliance, lived in her shadow, and all this time she had cheated? He wanted his mother here now, to better explain things, to tell him that his self-loathing wasn't for nothing. He felt the sting of humiliating tears in his eyes, and mashed his palms to his face to try and stop them. “She... she couldn't have lied to my father... to me... to all of our people... Everyone loves her for her stories!”

Daisy watched him evenly, tapping her pipe to the table to empty the ashes. “You're willing to toss her aside just like that? You seem to forget your own origins, boy. She still could have been killed. She still risked her life. And by doing what she did... she exposed herself to anyone who knew about the real gift.”

Minnie looked around, confused on many different levels. There were too many questions to ask, yet she didn't know if it was her place to ask them. What was so important about stories? What did it matter if one person invented them or borrowed them? For goodness sake, she heard plenty of stories during her long life. In fact, she was fairly sure she'd heard the story Daisy was telling her before. Maybe a former master had mentioned it. Yet she couldn't exactly place which one and where. How puzzling.

Goofy leaned back in his seat, thinking out loud. “Actually...Daisy's got a point. In the wrong hands, that kind of gift could be all sorts of trouble. Like if you're trying to hurt someone, you could find out their routines, where they'd be vulnerable. Or invade a country, learn your enemy's weaknesses. No one would ever have any privacy or secrets ever again!”

Mickey nodded weakly, knowing that Goofy was trying to help – but that's when it hit. “Wait... is that why she was taken?” He whipped back around to shout at Daisy. “Does someone have my parents so they can use that gift and hurt people? She wouldn't help anyone like that!” Even though his mother's lies still hurt like an open wound, it never erased the love her had for her. She was still his mother, and always would be. “And this person can make those dangerous shadow creatures...what if they try to hurt her to make her obey them? What's going to happen to her if she doesn't go along with it?” He'd be willing to forgive all her transgressions if it meant his mother and father could come home safe and sound. Their lives were worth more than any story. “Who took them?”

Daisy lit her pipe again. “The father was very impressed at his daughter's work. But the brother was a wicked soul, filled to the brim with jealousy and hatred. He had his own ideas about how to 'help' people, and created a horrifying spell to inflict upon them. He was so eager to triumph over his sibling and claim the throne that he even experimented on himself, losing bits of his soul and body. Soon all you could see of him was his shadow, haunting the castle like an evil spirit. And when he presented his gift to his father, the Sultan was horrified at what his son had created.”

Donald raised an eyebrow, curious about something. “Well, what was it? What did he do to them that was so terrible?”

Daisy clicked her tongue. “Unfortunately... this is another part of the story that's been lost to history. No one is sure exactly what he did. Even his name has been forgotten... we now just call him the Phantom Prince, for it's said all that remained of his former self was just a shadow. The only thing that's remembered is that whatever he did to those townsfolk, it was enough to not only make the Sultan choose the daughter as his successor, but banish the prince from his own kingdom.” She scoffed. “As if he'd just pack up his bags and leave...by now, the prince was so engulfed in magic that he'd lost his heart. In revenge for trying to take what he saw as rightfully his, he murdered his family and seized the throne. He thought he would be a perfect ruler... but his corrupted soul turned the kingdom into an ugly, warped land. As you can imagine, not many people wanted to live under a bloodthirsty tyrant. So the people fled from the decaying kingdom, and now the town is just as much a shadow as he is.”

“Everyone wanted to erase the kingdom from history so his evil could not spread. All the maps to the kingdom were destroyed, except for one... one has survived the test of time, and has been split into four parts, all over the world. Only when the map is restored can one ever find the lost kingdom...if you can call it that. After all, what's a kingdom without its people? The Phantom Prince was furious at his people for 'betraying' him, yet he could not leave the kingdom he killed for. So he sent out his dark minions to scour the world and find people who could help restore the kingdom to its former glory. When he learned about Sultana Scheherazade...well, he obviously put two and two together, and wanted to get his hands on the All Seeing Eye. He seized your parents, and wants her gift so he can kidnap more people and see his kingdom flourish. The kingdom of shadows and phantoms...that is where your parents are, and in order to get there, we will need all four parts of the ancient map.”

“One piece is being offered as a prize in the flashy city of Rumansy. The second is stuck in a trapped Imp's jar in the town of Muhtal. The third lays within the Cave of Wants.”

The captivated audience waited...and waited...and waited...until Mickey broke the silence. “Well, where's the fourth one?”

“I dunno.” Daisy shrugged helplessly. “Hey, I never said I had all the answers! But I'll be on the look-out. I can use my gift any time, and the more people we meet and the more names I learn, the better chance I have of finding out where it could be.”

Mickey frowned, chewing on his cheek as the weight of all that had been said rested. The story sounded like one of his mother's stories...which, considering what he knew now, took on a whole new meaning. Anger and sadness still bubbled in his heart, and he still didn't want to accept his mother's true self. He remembered what his mother had told him on his birthday, her expression so serious in a way he'd never seen before.

My son, I have both longed for and dreaded this day. There are things you need to know, that I need to say, and I'm not sure how to make you understand. I can only hope I'll have your forgiveness, when you realize why I have held back the truth all these years.

Mickey's tight muscles loosened, and he looked at his empty hands, recalling his mother's soft, warm touch. “She...she was going to tell me.” Even though it had hurt her to do so, even though she could have never said it and Mickey never would have guessed otherwise, she was still going to reveal the truth. Had she been afraid she'd lose Mickey's love if she spoke of it? Yet she believed he deserved to know what was real. His mother wasn't a creative genius...but she was still a good mother. She loved Mickey, she played with him, taught him, encouraged him, shed tears over him, and wanted nothing more than his happiness. In this moment, Mickey missed his parents more than ever, and wanted to feel their protective arms around his body.

“...How many maps do we have?” Mickey asked when he lifted his head.

Goofy paused to mentally count. “More than half a dozen, I'm thinkin'!”

“Bring them all to my room! If we can't find that fourth piece, we have to deduce where that lost kingdom is! Everywhere we go, I want us to buy every different kind of map there is! I'll find out where it is, no matter what!”

Goofy smiled, and smacked the table with his fist. “That's the spirit, Mickey! We'll find your folks!”

“So our next destination is Rumansy,” Horace concurred. “I guess if we have to endanger ourselves again...”

“Who are you kidding?” Clarabelle grinned from ear to ear. “It's time for a new adventure! We're all in!”

“This is a story we'll all be writing!” Panchito beat his forks against the table like a drum, and Jose danced to the beat while adding, “With all new plot twists and cliffhangers!”

“Who knows what we could find?” Donald said with a smile. “Clarabelle and Horace's master, or my real family, or even more weird people for our crew!”

Minnie bowed her head respectfully towards Mickey. “Wherever we go, never forget that I'm ready to serve. Your parents are as good as found, my Master.”

Daisy chuckled, shaking her head. “Well, I certainly signed up for all the fun I can handle. Don't expect me to make this any easier on you.”

Mickey looked from one encouraging face to the next. Once upon a time they had been merely figments of a Sultana's imagination. But now they were flesh and blood, choosing to work with him, for him, to help him in his hour of need. They knew the truth about his mother, and were going to risk it all anyway. Not just for her sake, but for his. Perhaps this was what it was like to have friends? The kind he had longed for back during those lonely days at the castle? He was yet to believe he was worthy of being anything other than his mother's son, but maybe, just maybe, he was finally walking out of her shadow and into the light.

“Then let's not waste any time!” Mickey declared. “Let's head for the city of-”

This time when Mickey felt the ship sinking down, it wasn't just a metaphor. The ship was suddenly struck on its side, knocking everyone out of their chairs and spilling their food everywhere. They barely had time to get to their feet when it happened again, and the entire crew scrambled to get up on deck to see what was happening. To everyone's shock and fright, the same shadowy creatures that had attacked Mickey on his birthday were now flying onto the ship, headbutting it and clawing at it in an attempt to tear it apart. One lion-shaped monster was chasing after Pluto, ready to snap its sharp teeth on his tail.

“Pluto!” Mickey cried out, whipping out his sword from its scabbard. This was a familiar scene – but this time things would be different. He glanced behind him once, and then stuck his fingers in his mouth, whistling high – within seconds, the carpet flew up from below deck, fast and hard toward its master. “Go get Pluto to a safe place!” Mickey commanded, and the carpet zipped forward, sticking itself under a very confused dog's feet. It then hovered upwards, trying to get away from the violent creatures, and Mickey rushed forward, spotting the heart-shape on its side. “Remember, everyone! Strike the hearts, and they're done for!”

“You heard 'em, gang!” Goofy hollered, and he flashed out his sword, charging into battle. Horace, Clarabelle, Jose and Panchito raced into the scene, punching, firing, shooting and flaming their way to every enemy's weak point.

“I don't understand!” Minnie backed up, terrified of the ongoing struggle. “If these are the same things that took my Master's parents, why are they still coming after him? Doesn't the Phantom Prince have what he wants?”

“No time for asking questions we don't have the answers for!” Daisy shouted, ducking as a flying bat-monster missed her by an inch. “There are too many of these things! By the time we're done defeating them, they'll have ripped the ship to shreds! We need to get some distance between us and get out of here!”

Minnie tried to think, sticking close to Donald and Daisy, the former grabbing her arm and keeping her back protectively. “Maybe...maybe if...Donald! What if you created some kind of hurricane? Those winds would blow them away, and help push us forward! Can't you do that?”

“I-I don't know!” Donald could feel they were being backed up into a corner. “I still don't have complete control over all my powers...” C'mon, c'mon, c'mon... what used to create hard winds? Happiness? Anger? Sadness? “It was...surprise! I have to be really surprised to create a hurricane!” Daisy blinked once, looking at him as he began to flail. “But if I know I'm going to be surprised, I can't be surprised, because I'll know it's coming! What are we gunna do?!”

Never let it be said that Daisy was slow on her feet. She grabbed Donald by the shoulders, spun him around, dipped him, and then kissed him as hard and as deep as her beak would allow.

In that exact instant, winds that would impress the gods whipped up into the sky, sending each and every single shadow monster flying off. Goofy put his arms around the ship's mast to prevent being flown off, and Clarabelle grabbed him, and Horace grabbed her, and Mickey grabbed Horace, who was grabbed by the birds, in a ridiculous-looking rope of pirates. The flying carpet dropped Pluto off in the crow's nest, and Pluto returned the favor by grabbing it with his teeth to make sure it wasn't blown away. Mickey laughed in triumph at this unusual victory, brandishing his sword high. “That's right! Go and tell your lord that it'll take much more than that to stop us!”

Minnie watched Daisy drop Donald like a hot potato, and reluctantly gave Daisy her dues. “I suppose you're not so terrible after all.”

Daisy grinned. “Funny, I was going to say the same about you.”

With that, the heroes and heroines cheered their victory, or as much as they could without getting blown away. Minnie and Daisy were forced to join the pirate chain and wait out the hurricane, but no one was complaining – except for Horace, who tended to complain about everything. When the winds finally died down, Mickey raced to grab the maps and begin his studying. The ship sailed forward to their next destination – save for Donald, who stayed in a coma-ish state for a solid hour.

Chapter Text

It took several days to reach the borders of Rumansy, and their arrival was a great relief to everyone. No matter how hard Mickey and the others begged and pleaded to Daisy for further information about the task before them, she refused to speak of it “too early”, because what fun would that be? On this particular day, full of bright sunshine and hot winds, Mickey was standing in the crow's nest, the area littered with maps and pens. Ever since Daisy had revealed the truth behind his parents' kidnapping, he had devoted all of his free time to studying every inch of every map the ship had. If they couldn't find the fourth piece of the mysterious map they were searching for, they had an entire world to look through but not enough time to do so. Often he stayed up late at night to study, trying to memorize layouts of towns and deciding which maps filled in the holes the others were missing.

During those nights, Minnie would stay in her lamp, hearing nothing but the gentle scratching of pen against paper. It was soothing and frustrating at the same time – she couldn't help him at all. Or rather the only way she could help him, her wishes, he refused to use.. It made her question her place on the ship, since everyone had their own roles. Mickey had done so much for her and for everyone he met, and no doubt he would continue to put the needs of others before his own. The night before they arrived at the city's edge, Minnie heard a quiet “thunk” outside of her lamp, and poofed out to see what it was.

Mickey had been bent over his work table, studying long into the night until exhaustion finally took over, and he passed out. His head lay on the table, snoring loudly and drooling slightly. Pluto, who had been sleeping around his master's chair, jerked his head up at the noise, and whined to see what had happened. Minnie sighed, and began to tug the blanket from his bed. She knew if she tried to move him to the bed, he would wake up and insist on resuming his work. As she draped the blanket over his shoulders, she silently made a vow – she would find a way to help him in Rumansy, no matter what it took or what indignities she suffered. She would be useful in one form or another, to him and to the others. She would help him sleep peacefully again.

Now in the day's light, she had those same thoughts as she stood on deck, gazing up at the crow's nest where Mickey was standing. Minnie would not let him work alone and suffer for her sake. It was her turn to work for his freedom and happiness. Though he was very high up, she could make out his features, and watched him as if he was the most fascinating subject the world had ever created. What kind of life did he have to make him this way? So kind and caring and smart and clever and handsome and -

“If you start singing a mushy song, I am gunna hurl.”

Minnie felt she jumped a foot up in the air when she heard Daisy's mocking voice behind her. “Why can't you ever do anything normally?!” To her growing mortification, the rest of the crew was with Daisy, wall of them now looking in different directions, whistling, pretending they hadn't noticed Minnie's lovesick staring.

Daisy waved the question away. “It's time to start planning for the next part of the quest. But I'm going to need his help, and yours, and Donald's!”

“Me?” Donald asked, confused but happy to participate.

Minnie wanted to be happy about this, but given Daisy's nature, she was wary about what this would entail. Mickey, for his part, noticed the crowd below and began to climb down as fast as he could. “I can see the city!” he called out as he raced downwards. “Daisy, will you finally tell us how to get the first part of the map? Where is it in Rumansy?”

Once Mickey was on solid ground, Daisy flipped her hair and twirled her pipe, ready to go into another storytelling spiel. Her snake rested comfortably on her head, hissing out a hello. “The city of Rumansy began as a small town without anything to really notice about it. As a result, they were poor as dirt and lacked any tourists. But one day, a runaway couple entered the city, begging for help. They were from warring tribes, yet they were desperately in love and refused to part. The town was touched by their passion and allowed them to stay. The story became so famous that the town suddenly became known as a romantic destination for honeymooners!”

“I've got a bad feeling about this,” Horace groaned.

“In honor of this couple, the elders of Rumansy decided they would make their city the most romantic in all the land! And the best way to do it was to hold a contest every year to choose the most romantic couple in all the land! The prizes change each time, and people come from across the globe to prove they are the best couple to have ever...coupled! And one of those prizes is a piece of the map! They have no idea about its real origins. They just figure it's a collector's item.” She then held her pipe like a conductor's baton, getting into the final segments of the plan. “But we have to be precise! That prize only goes to the Runner-Up! Third place is a thousand gold pieces, second place is a paid vacation to the land of your choice, and first place is to star in a romance novel written by famed author Honeybee!”

Goofy raised his hand. “Who?”

“Eh, some hack author. Her editors do all the work, honestly. Bless them.”

Mickey was getting Horace's bad intuition. “Wait a minute...can't we just ask them for the piece of the map? You're not actually saying we have to enter this ridiculous contest?”

“They take this contest very seriously!” Daisy wagged a finger. “They won't hand it over just because you say 'pretty please'. No, the only way to get it is to enter and win! That's why you, Minnie, Donald and I are going to sign up and pretend to be couples.”

“What?” said Donald.
“What?” said Minnie.
“WHAT?!” said Mickey.

“Told you,” Horace added.

Clarabelle pushed her husband aside to get up front. “Now hold on a minute! Doesn't it make much more sense for me and Horace to enter? We're actually married!”

“Noooooooo, you and the others should stay behind in case we need help. Besides, the way you two argue so much, I doubt they'd even know you were a real couple in the first place.” But anyone looking at Daisy's face could see she was lying through her teeth. No doubt the real answer was, “This is much funnier.”

“Well, I guess we do kind of argue a lot,” Horace began to agree.
“Horace! We do NOT argue a lot!” Clarabelle disagreed very loudly.
“Yes we do, woman, why won't you listen to me?!”
“I'M TELLING YOU WE NEVER ARGUE!”

“Daisy!” Mickey barked, interrupting Clarabelle and Horace, already losing his patience. “This is nuts! We're not going to lie to these people and pretend to be something we're not! There has to be another way to get the map!”

Minnie crossed her arms, sticking her nose up. “I concur with my Master, I won't do it.”

Donald nervously tugged at his collar. “I gotta say, if we're pirates, why don't we just steal the thing?”

Daisy evenly looked at her three pawns, seeing all the resistance, and then dramatically exhaled, pressing the back of her head to her forehead and turning away. “I see how it is...Well, if that's how you really feel about it, I guess it can't be helped. What was I thinking? I mean, I can see how dreadfully uncomfortable it would be for you guys to be together...Having to cuddle and coo, whisper sweet nothings, exchange long, passionate, really deep kisses...”

If one person could be played like a fiddle, Daisy played the trio like an orchestra.

“HANG ON,” Mickey interjected loudly and abruptly, his cheeks burning as he thought about the possibility of cuddling Minnie in his arms like a loving husband, “I mean, if it's for the sake of my parents, we should pull out the stops, r-right?”

“I AGREE,” Minnie added on just as loudly, blushing as she thought about the idea of having tender words whispered into Mickey's ear, “That is, if it's what my Master wishes, I have to go along with it, d-don't I?”

“I WANNA DO IT,” Donald finished, determined not to faint this time if Daisy kissed him again and again and again and again. “All for one and one for all! AHAHAHA!”

The rest of the crew stared at Daisy in awe at how easily she wrapped the others around her figure – well, not so much awe as it was fear. Yikes.

“Aw, I'm so glad we're all in agreement!” Daisy chirped, clasping her hands together. “Once we lay anchor, I'll go on ahead and sign us up while you three pack! The contest takes about three days, so make sure to get everything you need! Remember, we have to be good, but not too good.”

“You are a devil woman,” Clarabelle muttered under her breath.

“Gotta go pack!” Mickey repeated, practically skipping with glee at this plan which was to absolutely to save his parents and had nothing to do with the fact that he could hold Minnie's hands and not feel guilty about it. Minnie flounced after him, pleased that she could be of use to the crew and not that she could be in Mickey's arms without any repercussions. Donald, still lost in kissing thoughts, had to be dragged away by Panchito and Jose since he couldn't find the strength in his feet.

Goofy glanced down at Daisy, scratching his noggin under his bandanna. “Daisy...you're not planning something this time, are you? We really do need that piece of the map.”

Daisy put one hand over her heart and raised the other. “I give you my word, I plan for the four of us to pretend to be two couples. Nothing more, nothing less. Why, if we didn't win the map, I'd stop having fun.”

“That is exactly the opposite of reassuring,” Horace rolled his eyes. “We'll stick around town and learn what we can about this contest...but you gotta keep an eye on them! Keep Donald's powers under check, and don't let anyone find out what Minnie really is and who Mickey really is! The less headaches we get, the better!”

Daisy just smiled, working her pipe into her ponytail. “Fiddle-de-dee, such faith you have in me.”

Horace, Clarabelle, and Goofy had no choice but to go along with whatever Daisy was cooking, laying the anchor down so she could climb off and sign the foursome up. Clarabelle insisted with her husband they should still try to enter to watch over the young ones, but of course Horace argued against this, and they continued fighting over it well long after the chosen ones had left. Goofy, at least, tried to be optimistic about the whole thing. On its surface, the plan was relatively simple – given the way Mickey and Minnie felt about each other, “pretending” to be a couple would be amazingly easy. So how could Daisy possibly use that as a trick for her own entertainment?

~*~

An hour later, Mickey, Minnie, and Donald walked into the city of Rumansy with their heads held high and songs in their hearts. Their excitement was diminished a smidgen when they realized how overboard the city went with its theme – the buildings were heart shaped, guitars were being played at every corner, and the streets had carvings of very sappy poetry. Everyone wore shades of reds and pinks, with men carrying bouquets and women spraying perfume from the windows.

“Everyone here needs to seriously take it down a notch,” Donald stated when the trio had to wait to cross a street due to several couples tango-ing at once.

“Daisy wasn't kidding about the romance deal,” Mickey mused, scratching his cheek. Here was an entire city that was just as embarrassing as his parents. “I mean, I don't really know much about it myself...”

“Same here,” Donald admitted. “Shoot, what with the way Uncle...” he winced, still in the habit of calling the cruel old man his relative, “...Flintheart raised me, I never thought any woman would want me. So I never bothered learning how to get a girl. But maybe if we just act natural, we should be okay?”

“Donald is right,” Minnie said, walking closer to Mickey than normal. “We can't think too hard about this, or it'll be obvious we're faking. We should just do... whatever...feels right.” She met Mickey's eyes, and the two held the gaze for a second before shyly breaking away.

“I don't think you two have much to worry about.” Donald held back a snicker. For him, he wasn't sure what his feelings about Daisy were – the woman could be graceful and intelligent one moment, devious and underhanded the next. But he was in this to help his friend – more importantly, he was in this to get another amazing kiss. Homina homina homina.

The trio found Daisy on the steps of a church so massive it could rival many a royal palace. It was covered in white lace, but instead of hideous gargoyles it was adorned with smooching couples and winged cherubs, the stained glass windows depicting previous winners of the contest. On the steps of the church, Daisy was talking to a short man who was covered in orange hair from head to foot – although he did it keep it smooth and trim. He was nodding along to whatever Daisy was saying, occasionally wiping a tear from his eye and adjusting the long green hat on his head. It was an easy guess that this man worked for the contest.

Mickey stopped, feeling his heart racing. He swallowed, and made himself look at Minnie. “B-Before we do this, I... um... well... I don't want to do... anything you're not... you know... comfortable with...” He began to fidget, the pack on his shoulders shifting back and forth – Donald had packed light, with Minnie not packing anything, as her magic kept her clothes springtime fresh, but Mickey wanted to continue his studies, so his pack was bursting with maps. “That is... you can always tell me to stop, or... The map is important, but, you, you're important too, and I want you to, to, to remember what I said about... being unable to tell what's real, and what you're doing because of what you are...”

With each stammer and stutter, Mickey accidentally wormed his way further into Minnie's heart. She smiled without realizing it, playing with the rings on her fingers. “I know, I remember. But, perhaps... I might be more... comfortable... with some things than you might realize...”

“There he is!” Daisy suddenly called out, jarring their attention. “My beloved husband, my one and only! I can't believe we were apart for so long!” Donald's face flushed, and he could feel Mickey lightly nudging his chest with an elbow. Daisy began to run down the stairs, arms out. “My sweetie, my darling, my...”

But instead of jumping into Donald's open arms, she latched onto Mickey. “Myyy Mortimer~!”

Donald froze where he was, arms still out, trying to comprehend what just happened. Minnie's jaw dropped, her body shaking like a thousand rattle-snake tails. Mickey slowly, rigidly, dug his fingers into Daisy's shoulders and pulled her off. “What... Did... You... Do?”

“I signed us up, hubby-wubby-boo~!” Daisy bopped Mickey on the nose, enjoying each dose of horror she got from her so-called friends. “I told Father Wander here all about us! And when he heard our story, he knew we would be surefire winners!”

“Of course I know it!” The orange-colored man felt ready to sob all over again. “To think that a pair of forbidden couples would show up at our door... It's like destiny!” It was a good thing he began to pantomime the story himself, so he could miss the murderous glares being bestowed upon Daisy, and the delighted raspberry she blew back. “You, Mortimer, were arranged to be married but on the day of the wedding, you fell for the bride's sister, Donna! And not only that, but your servants, Madeline and Gladstone, also fell for each other! How amazing is that?”

Donald wasn't sure which he found more offensive – being called a servant or being given such a stupid name. That's when the actual point of the story hit him, and he shakily pointed to Minnie. “So... me and her...?” He liked Minnie, yes, but as a sister! Minnie was equally distraught, but could not summon words, only gaping in dread as Daisy continued to snuggle up to Mickey.

Father Wander clapped. “You guys are all shoe-ins, and as our last entrants, we can finally begin the opening ceremony! Come on in!” He threw open the doors, revealing that within loud operatic music was being played, and headed inside.

Mickey spoke hotly through gritted teeth. “Daisy...Did you plan this from the start?”

“I said we'd be couples, I never said who'd be with who.” Daisy waggled her eyebrows, never losing the appearance of a venomous snake. “Why... is there someone you guys would rather be with?” She looked at them all, grinning.

Minnie made a choked noise in her throat, but that was all the answer Daisy would get. Mickey and Minnie were still way too emotionally compromised to actually admit what they felt, especially in front of the object of their desire, and Donald could feel his mortification rising at the thought of saying out loud, “Yes, I wanted you to kiss me again!” As such, no one said a word. “That's what I thought.” Daisy giggled, walking up the stairs with Mickey. “Cheer up, Mortimer! We're all happily in love!”

Mickey could feel his head throbbing. “And why, out of all names-”

“Oh, relax, the guy's still on the run from all those magical thefts, he's not going in public anytime soon. No way we'll get get any kind of mix-up.” It was difficult to tell if she knew this for a fact, given her All Seeing Eyes, or she was making an excuse for poking a hornet's nest. “Smiles, everyone!”

The only way Mickey could manage something close to a smile was imagining tying Daisy up and leaving her in the city while the crew made a getaway. As a result his smile was more demonic than charming. “I love you so much,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I don't think I've ever loved someone as much as I love you right now.” It was obvious what actual emotion Mickey was emphasizing.

With a sad exhale, Donald offered his hand to Minnie, unable to look at her for the moment due to embarrassment, which she did not find offensive. She weakly held his hand and followed their friends into the chapel, trying to put on struggling happy faces.

The interior of the entrance was filled to the brim with couples of all kinds. Some couldn't keep their hands off of each other, others were bickering loudly, and it occurred to Mickey then that perhaps some others would also be faking their romance. A thousand coins or a paid vacation were tempting prizes, after all. The inside of the church contained more silly statues of smooching and banners full of hearts. Father Wander's servants were prancing about, offering flower necklaces and singing poetry about each of the contestants. Mickey was finding it more difficult to keep on his smile, his anger still throbbing, and now growing into frustration. He had sworn to Minnie that he'd put his affections for her on hold until she was free, and he was going to keep his word. It had been the right thing to do, but also incredibly difficult – he wanted to treat her like a lover should be treated, to give life to the words in his head, to make her happy for every sad say she'd ever experienced. But now being in this place was like a belittling reminder of the lines he swore he wouldn't cross, no matter how much he wanted to.

Yet as he looked around at all the kissy faces and hearing silly pet names – this seemed almost to be more a mockery of romance than an actual celebration. As if these people knew what people in love were supposed to “look like”, but never bothered to try anything else. Mickey's parents were mushy, yes, but they didn't spend every waking moment babbling about each other. Sometimes their love could be felt with a simple smile when their spouse was having a bad day, or asking the chef to prepare their favorite food when one of them was ill.

Mickey's mind began to reel, somewhat cooling his anger without getting rid of it entirely – did he really know anything about love? He was certain about his feelings towards Minnie, but he'd been proven wrong about his instincts before. What a fine time to have doubts! Maybe if he hadn't been so busy daydreaming before he came to the chapel, he could've asked an actual expert on the subject, like Goofy or Horace. But in the end, did any of it matter?

Father Wander began clapping his hands, which stopped his servants so he could be heard. “Welcome, one and all, to the Annual Rumansy Romance Contest! It is such an honor to be here among so many loving people! Now that our last minute contestants have been signed up, we can finally get things rolling!” he then gestured to the foursome at the door, applauding wildly. “Give 'em a hand, everyone! Two pairs of forbidden lovers for the price of one! Aren't they just adorable?”

Daisy squeezed Mickey tightly, giggling like a shy schoolgirl. “Aw, honey, aren't they saying the nicest things about us?”

Mickey awkwardly patted Daisy on the head, trying to keep the real goal in mind. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.” He swallowed, feeling everyone's eyes on him. He could feel his insides trying to physically force down his anger, and ignore his worries, although both were proving to be difficult. Donald and Minnie were wearing a matching pair of nervous smiles, awkwardly waving. “I, uh... well! It's nice to meet all of you, sorta.” There was no reason to bad sport to his fellow contestants. Maybe some of them had been duped as well. “I hope we can all get along, and may the best couple win.”

“AND THAT WILL BE US!”

One of the small, wooden pews was knocked over, allowing the shouting enemies to use it as a makeshift pedestal for their greatness. A pair of humans stood side by side, copying each other's pose of a hand to their face. “There is simply no couple who love each other more than I, Hildy Gloom, and my fantastic husband, Grimwold Gloom, love each other!” She cackled and flipped her short, purple and pink hair around. The long-frilled dress around her neck and legs made her seem taller than she really was, like a violet lizard standing on its haunches.

“So the rest of you would be better off giving up and leaving here and now!” Her husband's laugh was no less devilish, though his contained a few extra honks, given his very large nose. His bright blue hair was nearly blinding, save for the white streak like a lightning bolt. He also dressed a bit more conservatively choosing a simple trench-coat with a pattern of stars in the corner. “We not only deserve first place, but second, third, and runner-up! You might as well save us all some time and hand them over now!”

The various couples uneasily looked at each other, unsure if they wanted to fight against a pair that was so downright rude. Father Wander held up his hands, chuckling nervously. “Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves...There's three days to prove who's the best, starting now! We have two assigned chambers, one for the men, and one for the women, so if you could all just-”

“Why should I have to share my room with a bunch of losers?” Hildy marched forward, leaning over Father Wander and making him back up. “I'll have all of these pathetic wanna-bes dropped out before you can say 'boo'! So hand over those prizes! I want them, I want them, I want them!”

Daisy whispered behind her hand, “See, there are people more annoying than I am.” This did not reassure Mickey about anything.

The murmur didn't go unnoticed, as Grimwold stomped his foot down. “You got something to say to us?” He then advanced toward Mickey and Daisy, sneering down at them. “You two think you could be more in love than we are? Get lost! The only ones winning are me and my Hildy-honey!”

Mickey's temper was reaching its limits for the day, fighting off the lid he'd so carefully placed on it minutes ago. “Look, we don't want any trouble. We all deserve a fair shot at winning the prizes, and it's not fair for you to push Father Wander around! We're not going anywhere, and you can't make us!”

“Who says I can't, pipsqueak?” Grim grabbed Mickey by the collar – Mickey felt a strange little pinch. “Do you even know who we are?”

“You literally just told us,” Daisy said under her breath, making no movement to help Mickey. But she didn't have to – a sudden, hard bolt of lightning struck the outside of the chapel, causing everyone to jump. After all, it'd been clear and sunny, so where did the lightning come from? Mickey glanced behind him, and saw Donald give a sheepish smile. He hadn't meant to summon it, but seeing his friend needlessly bullied had set him off. Minnie squeezed his hand in gratitude.

Grateful for the distraction, Father Wander tried to pick things up again. “As I was saying...we have rooms for men and women, so you can unpack and get yourselves psyched for the first part of the contest! Anyone who fails any part of the contest will kindly be asked to leave.” The “kindly” part was up to debate, seeing how his servants were holding up chains behind his back. If Mickey had to guess, the losers would be dragged away in them, which seemed extremely excessive. “We'll continue eliminating couples until we have our winners on day three! On that day, we have a super secret and super amazing way to tell who is the best couple in the whole wide world! Hurray for love!” He applauded, and this time everyone joined in, save for the sneering Glooms.

The frolicking servants began to lead the men and women away into separate, long red hallways. With the intense drama now over, Mickey put a hand to his chest, taking deep breaths. Now he could calm down, and get rid of that vicious temper. In, out, in, out, there was no reason to lose his cool. They would just play the game and try their best. As each pair began to be separated, Mickey shook Donald's hand. “Thanks for the save, pal.”

“You got it, Mickey,” he whispered, happy to have helped. “We're all in this together, all four of us. And don't you worry, Minnie and I have got this covered. We'll help you and each other.”

Minnie bowed her head respectfully. “I'll be in your hands, Donald, so I know I will be all right.”

“But right now, she's in my hands!” Daisy yanked Minnie away by the wrist, happy to ruin the tender moment. “See you boys later! You better prepare the sappiest lines you can imagine! I want to see maple syrup pouring out of your mouths!” With a harpy-like little laugh, she flounced away with a very reluctant Minnie.

“I'm afraid to say it can't get worse.” Mickey shook his head, following Donald to the men's chambers. He wondered what the first stage of the contest was, and how hard it would be to pass it. But until then, he could always study his maps.

The last couple to be separated were the Glooms, who had now taken to a corner and were watching their enemies disperse. Before they parted, Hildy held out her hand to her husband, smirking. “Did you get it, Grimmy-goo?”

“Easy as pie, Hildy-hoo.” He slipped it into her hand – a single black hair taken from Mickey's fur. “If what the Phantom Prince told us is right, this is our ticket to easy street. Work your magic. Literally.”

“Can do, babe.” She slid the hair into her neckline, hiding it underneath her clothes. “I'll need a day to perfect it, but before this contest is over, we'll know if he's the one we've been looking for. Then not only will we win, but we'll obtain ultimate power!”

“You are so pretty when you're evil.”

“You say the nicest things, sweetie!”

They exchanged a happy kiss before leaving their separate ways, determined to win in every sense of the word. No one suspected that this sappy yet bothersome pair was there for far more than coins and prizes. The Phantom Prince hadn't stopped with Pete in his search for suitable pawns. They wouldn't be the last obstacles in Mickey's way, but they were going to show him that there were things he could never hide no matter how hard he tried.

Grimwold stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked on with the rest of the men, his eyes staying on Mickey's back. He hadn't exactly been given all the details of the big plot at hand, but felt he didn't need them. What he had was enough. He was going to get his hands on the Son Of Scheherazade.

Or, as others called him, those who felt his mother was no hero and that his father was a monster... The Child Born Of Blood.

Chapter Text

It had been very difficult for Minnie to keep her mouth closed and not complain about the circumstances Daisy had placed them in, but she managed by biting her lower lip and remembering her internal sworn promise to Mickey. Hadn't she told herself she'd suffer any indignities imaginable in order to be of use to him and the crew? It'd do no good to back down now. So she followed the other women into their assigned quarters, blinking her eyes hard so she wouldn't continuously glare at Daisy. Daisy, on the other hand, was pleased as punch with the way her plan had turned out. She flounced along, Minnie's hand tightly in hers, cooing to the other girls about how much she loooved her husband and how much “Madeline” also loooved her husband.

The sleeping chambers were just as decorated and ridiculous as the rest of the palace-like chapel. All the beds were covered in red satin sheets, pillows and even the carpet appeared to be made out of the same substance. Scented lit candles were beside every bed, along with small shelves filled with sappy romance novels with bare-chested men and flimsily dressed women on the covers. The same banners with more cheesy writing, “Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder” were spread over the walls, and paper hearts hung from the ceiling.

“I'm sensing a theme here,” Daisy said, her amusement dripping with sarcasm. The women began to pick their own beds, with Hilda snapping at the others to stay away from hers. Daisy dragged Minnie over to one near the doorway, plopping the two of them down so they could have a little chat. “You haven't hissed at me once since we got here. It's really not as much fun if you don't bite back.”

Minnie resisted the urge to rise to the bait. “I am here as a dedicated wife to her husband. I will do whatever it takes to help him through this.”

Daisy quirked an eyebrow, lazily plopping one leg over the other. “Hmmm... After a thousand or so years, you've finally grown up, huh? Well then, I'm sure everything will work out. Play your part right, and we shouldn't have any trouble. And don't you worry, I'll treat Mickey very well.” She placed a hand to her chest, grinning. “Very well.”

Aside from a twitch under her eye, Minnie still didn't acknowledge the lure. “I have the utmost confidence in my Master.” Now this was not part of the act – for the sake of his parents, Mickey would win where he needed to, and Minnie had no doubts he could do it. Not because Minnie thought Mickey could convince anyone he was in love with Daisy, but because Mickey was able to accomplish anything he put his mind to, even when the odds were against him. He was able to win over everyone, so why shouldn't he be able to win over Father Wander and the other supervisors of the contest?

Daisy clicked her tongue, both impressed at Minnie's maturity and annoyed that she had no toy to play with. “All right, just keep that in mind. Once this contest starts, no more long held gazes or excuses to stay near him or praising how smart and clever he is.”

…Now Daisy was pushing it. “I don't...do those things...that much...” Minnie mumbled, each word a little quieter than the one that came before it, choosing to look away lest Daisy sink her claws into new territory.

Daisy laughed, smacking her hand on the pillow, which thankfully distracted her with something else. “Say, is the sleeping situation going to be a problem? Don't you usually sleep in the...” She made a lamp-like gesture with her hands, not wanting the ladies around them to overhear anything too dangerous.

Minnie shook her head, managing to choose her words right so as to not arouse suspicion. “I have some freedom there. I can go in and out whenever I want, unless my Master summons me. I could drop my lamp in the middle of the desert and walk a thousand miles away, but if someone picked it up and claimed it, I would be drawn back in the blink of an eye.”

Daisy went unusually quiet for a moment – that seemed to be a little too detailed to be just a guess. Had Minnie made previous “escape” attempts before? How many had she gone through before she ultimately gave up and resigned to her fate? This made picking on her a bit harder, as there was no fun in kicking a sad puppy. Not impossible, mind you, just harder. “If it's any consolation, I think the kid is going to keep his promise to you.”

Minnie finally smiled, resting her hands on her lap. “Yes, he is,” she said with absolute confidence. “So I'm going to help him by winning this thing... or, well, not entirely winning it. Nearly winning. Semi-winning.” Come to think of it, how did one “plan” to get a Runner-Up prize? If they tried too hard, they might get a bigger prize, and if they didn't try hard enough, they could get booted out of the contest entirely. Perhaps Mickey, with his charm and wit, could convince his other winners to trade their prizes. Yes, that might work – although if Hilda over there was a winner, that wouldn't be so easy. She was pulling tiny bottles filled with colorful liquids out of her bag, and if anyone so much as looked at them for five seconds, they got a nasty bark. “I think I'll have a better understanding of what to do when the contest actually starts. Is it tomorrow?”

Daisy shrugged, and that's when someone knocked on the room's door. One girl with pale skin and orange hair skipped to the door. “That's probably my handsome beau – he can't stand being away from me for more than a minute! He's like a fish without water! Oh, whatever will I do without him?” With a gleeful giggle, she opened the door.

It wasn't her beau, or anybody's husband or boyfriend or better half – standing there was a six foot tall, bare-chested, dark-eyed, six-pac-abbed, ripped tiger with sparkling shorts and a tray of drinks. “Would you ladies care for some refreshments?”

“Take me now,” said the orange haired woman. “I MEAN. YES. DRINKS.”

The tiger man smiled pleasantly before walking inside, joined by several other muscular, clothes-lacking studs of all varieties, all of them happily offering a drink or two for the poor thirsty women. Judging by the staring and drooling of several supposed wives, they suddenly became very thirsty.

Daisy smirked, pulling her pipe out of her hair to light it. “I'd say the contest is starting right about now.”

Minnie blinked at Daisy, confused as to why the sudden servants meant the beginning of the competition. “Huh? How can you tell?” Then again, these men weren't exactly dressed like they were priests like Father Wander.

“It's a temptation test,” Daisy whispered, twirling her pipe in her fingers. “Anyone who 'betrays' their true love will be kicked out, no question.”

Now that it was explained, Minnie could see how the men were designed to be steaks in front of hungry dogs. Still, it seemed needlessly trivial. “Goodness, they're only human. People can't help but look sometimes.”

“It's all about 'twu wuv' and everything they think it means.” Daisy chuckled before lightly nudging Minnie as the tiger came towards them, going on one knee to offer the tray.

“Can I help you lovely ladies tonight?” he asked with a deep, masculine purr in his throat.

Daisy held up her hand and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “No thank you. I'm already full on my darling Mortimer's love! If I had anything more, I would burst!” She followed it up with a dreamy sigh and flutter of eyelashes.

Understanding the basic concept, Minnie copied Daisy's gestures, holding up her hand, flipping her head. “Yes, I need only think of Gladstone and I'm completely full of his love! I can't wait to see him tonight in my dreams!” Huh, this was actually easier than she thought it would be. Once she made it as ridiculously gooey as possible, it was more like performing one of Mortimer's hokey shows, without the pain of her wishes. If this was all it took, they stood a real chance!

The tiger nodded in approval before getting up and leaving them alone. Once his back was turned, Daisy looped an arm around Minnie's shoulders for a proud squeeze. “Atta girl. Keep up the mushy-wushy nonsense, and no one will suspect a thing.”

Minnie beamed, pleased at the praise. “You're right, I have nothing to worry about it! I thought it'd feel weird, but I'm actually okay with it!” Perhaps Daisy was some kind of hidden genius.

Except Daisy wasn't. Looking back, even Daisy should have realized that this was when she should have shut up. “I hope the guys are okay with it too. They're probably going through the exact same thing right now.”

Minnie's smile stopped. “What?”

“Oh, you know, the temptation test.” Daisy puffed a few gray circles of smoke. “If we're going through it now, so are they. I bet a bunch of gorgeous bimbos are sliding up against them right now...” She trailed off as she turned to look at Minnie – who was no longer there. “...Uh-oh.”

The second Minnie understood what Daisy was implying, she'd taken off in a mad dash to the hallway in order to find the men's sleeping chambers. Daisy ran after her as fast as she could, the smoke trailing behind her making this look like a great train escape. “What do you think you're doing?!”

“I have to protect my Master from those awful temptresses!”

“I thought you said you had 'utmost confidence' in him!”

“I TRUST HIM, I DON'T TRUST THOSE WOMEN!”

“AT LEAST PRETEND TO BE WORRIED ABOUT 'GLADSTONE', YOU NUTJOB!”

But the mad scramble was stopped when Minnie inadvertently found the men's chambers – by running smack into the open door, and Daisy running smack into her. As the two lay in a dizzying heap on the floor, they heard the sounds of chains, footsteps, and lots of “tsk”-ing. Once their vision was straightened and they could stand up again, the two saw several beautiful women barely wearing a stitch of clothing dragging out a line of shamed males in chains. “This many out right out of the gate,” said a large-chested woman in front of the door, shaking her head in disappointment, “Honestly, it's getting harder and harder to find a decent couple these days!” That's when she noticed the pair of girls behind her who were relieved to see that neither of their men had been caught. “Oh, I know you two!” she squealed, grabbing their attention. “The forbidden lovers! Oooh, you two have such loyal husbands!” She grabbed their hands, shaking them in joyous pride. “I'm so happy for you both! Why, Donna, your husband is the most devoted husband I've ever seen!”

“Is that right?” Daisy poked her head around to take a look inside, as did Minnie.

Inside, the second Mickey had chosen his bed he'd taken out all his maps and resumed his studies. Even now he didn't seem to be aware anything was happening, circling points on parchment with furrowed brows and a serious expression. “He hasn't lifted his head up even once!” The servant sighed blissfully, amazed at Mickey's trustworthiness. “I hope someday I can find a man like him!”

Minnie exhaled deeply, before remembering who she was supposed to be with. “Oh, and, um, Gladstone?”

“He's so afraid of being disloyal to you, he won't go anywhere near them!” the woman chirped, but this didn't exactly coincide with what was going inside. Donald had been afraid, yes, but for two different reasons – first, that his powers would manifest and cause trouble, and second, he'd been locked up in a castle for all his life without any understanding of how hormones worked, so when an endless supply of beautiful began coming onto him, his first instinct was to hide under the bed and try not to pass out. Daisy and Minnie could make out which bed was Donald's due how much it was shaking, and that a few humid rain-drops had begun to drizzle from the ceiling.

“Huh, I guess the pipes are leaking.” The woman shrugged her shoulders, and then lightly began to push Minnie and Daisy by the shoulders. “But as for you two...I know you miss your loves with all your heart, but you have to stay in your rooms tonight! Off you go!”

“Of course, sorry about that!” Daisy faked a girlish laugh, but once she was far enough away she yanked Minnie close by the arm. “I need you to seriously cool it. If they find out you have the hots for Mickey instead of Donald, we're as good as done.”

Minnie was now comfortable glaring at her all over again. “May I remind you whose bright idea it was to have us matched like this?”

“No fair pointing out I may have had a bad idea once in my life. But from now on, keep your insecurities and jealousies stuck to Donald! We are both loyal, devoted, lovey-dovey wives to our husbands!” How was Daisy supposed to have any fun with her toys when they didn't act like she predicted?

As loathe as Minnie was to admit it, Daisy had a point. Lotus Blossom wasn't hiding around every corner, trying to take Mickey's lips before Minnie had a chance. “Okay... okay...” She took a few deep breaths, trying to commit herself to the role. “Gladstone is my husband, I love him, I love with all my heart, my Master is just my Master... I can do this...”

“Good. We should have an easier night, let's get some sleep and brace for tomorrow. Can't get kicked out for sleeping wrong.” Daisy, despite common sense, couldn't help herself. “Unless you moan Mickey's name in your sleep.”

“I HAVE NEVER DONE THAT!” Minnie denied just a bit too loudly to be really convincing.

In the men's chambers, Mickey thought he heard Minnie's voice, which was the only thing that could have awakened him to the real world. But when he glanced up and didn't see her, he decided it must have been his imagination. Say, where did some of the guys go? He blinked a bit, wondering if he missed something, when he felt the blankets underneath him being tugged. He looked down to see Donald, who had crawled on the floor to Mickey's bed. “I don't know whether I hate you or envy you, or both,” Donald muttered, shaking like a leaf.

Mickey tilted his head. “Uh, did I miss something?”

“Nevermind,” Donald groaned, pulling himself to his feet and sitting next to his best friend. “Maybe me coming along wasn't the best idea.”

“Aw, what makes you say that?” Mickey pushed his maps aside so he could give Donald his full attention.

“If I can't control how I'm feeling, how can I have any hope of controlling my powers?” Donald looked at his open, empty hand, afraid he'd see a sparkle of electricity running between his fingers. “I'm still afraid of killing people... but I know that in order to help protect everyone, I need to hurt people... how do I find the balance? What if Flintheart was right, and I can't do it?”

“To start with,” Mickey began, putting his arm around Donald's shoulders, “Flintheart only told you that to keep you locked up. He never wanted to understand how your powers worked. You do have control over them, I know it! It's why I'm not a charred and fried mouse.” He grinned, hoping for the joke to land, and Donald cracked the tiniest of smiles. “You won't get anywhere if you don't believe in yourself. If you think you can't do it, then you're stuck.”

“You're not saying it's as easy as, 'I think I can, therefore I can'.”

“No, but it's a start.” He squeezed Donald's shoulder. “Are you afraid of being overwhelmed and hurting Minnie during this crazy contest?”

“A little bit,” Donald admitted.

“Well, then that only makes one of us,” Mickey said with a bright smile, much to Donald's surprise. “Do you think I would've agreed to any plan that would put Minnie in danger? Just trust your gut and do your best. We'll get through this contest together, and when we're back on the ship, I promise to help you develop your powers until you're 100% confident!”

Donald almost agreed immediately when he caught the maps in the corner of his eyes. Could Mickey afford to waste any time training Donald when the Sultan and Sultana were in danger? After all Mickey had done for him, Donald wasn't going to allow himself to be a burden. He'd repay Mickey's friendship tenfold, his own way. For now, he tried to change the subject. “...Am I allowed to be afraid of what Daisy does to you?”

“Oh, absolutely.” The two laughed about it, feeling better about the whole situation, with renewed confidence about what tomorrow's craziness would bring.

~*~

The next morning, both groups were woken up bright and early by the church bells ringing nonstop. Once the individuals got over their throbbing headaches, Father Wander's servants led them to large room that had four blue flat mats in the center and the walls lined with comfortable pink pillow-like seats. Father Wander was already there, having been drawing chalk lines on the floor to keep the mats separate. Once he saw that the remaining contestants had arrived, he clapped merrily. “Good morning, everyone! It's so great to see all of your bright, smiling faces! Who's ready to begin the next step of our competition?” He was met with yawns, grumbles, and perhaps a few people going “Whoo!” “That's the spirit I wanna hear! Today, the men will be separated into groups for... combat!”

Father Wander stomped hard on a mat, showing how sturdy it was. “Use any method you please, and with whatever talents you have! As the ladies watch you brawl, it's your job to use all the love you have in your hearts to take down your opponent!”

This seemed rather vague in Mickey's opinion, and he raised a hand. “Hang on... how do we know who wins the matches? Aren't there any rules?”

“The only rule we have is, fight until you can't fight no more!” Father Wander answered, still as sunny as the morning light that poked in from windows high above. “We'll be judging by how much your love strengthens you! Now, let's form the teams!” Ignoring any other questions the contestants had, he and his servants began lightly pushing groups together, and this too seemed to have little rhyme or reason to it.

Donald began to grow nervous, sticking close to Mickey. “Mick – er, Mortimer... this is bad! What if I can't control my powers here? I know we need to win, but what if I seriously hurt whoever I'm fighting?” Already the sun's light was dimming due to his clouds of worry.

“Then that's what you need to think about,” Mickey replied without any worry at all, having the strongest and purest faith in his best friend. “If you don't want to hurt someone badly, then tell yourself you won't. Your powers will listen to you, because they're a part of you. And no matter what happens, we're all in this together.” He topped his speech off with a smile – he refused to let his temper win today. No, from now on, he would be all smiles, no matter what the contest, or Daisy, threw at him. Confidence in everyone would win the day! “You can do it, Gladstone.” After a squeeze to Donald's shoulder, he was forced to leave his friend behind and step forward to a match.

Donald swallowed hard, wishing he could have even half of Mickey's unwavering faith. He looked down at his fingers, feeling them start to shake.

Mickey's first opponent was a tall purple penguin who was sweating all over the place – this was a much warmer climate than he was used to. Dressed in fashionably fancy robes and twirling a bejeweled scepter, he sneered down at his smaller foe. “S-s-so you are the f-f-first to lose, what a s-s-s-shame!”

Nope, it would take much more than that to ignite Mickey's anger this time, he was determined not to fall for anything. He bowed respectfully before taking out his scimitar, and glanced around to see if it was all right to start the fight. Father Wander and his servants were standing in a line by the furthest wall, many of them already starting to jot down notes on large parchments. Father Wander raised his hand, “Aaand... start!”, when he lowered it, the violence began.

Minnie was sitting next to Daisy, just as confused as Mickey had been about the lack of proper organization. “This part makes no sense at all,” she sighed, her cheeks on her hands. Here she had been hoping to be of use to Mickey, and all she was allowed to do was sit and watch? “How does being stronger than someone prove your love at all? It's not fair.”

“They've been doing this contest for decades now, there's got to be a reason behind everything,” Daisy commented, reaching up to pet her snake that was snoozing in her hair. “Watch our guys, we might catch onto something. As for me, don't forget, I've got eyes everywhere. Almost literally.” If there was no real rules about this fight, things could get ugly fast. Mickey was doing well for himself, at least – he was using his weapon to block every blow, yet taking care not to hurt his bulkier opponent with deep bloody cuts. He just needed to win, there was no need to make his opponent suffer.

Unfortunately, not everyone was feeling so sporty, such as Grimwold. His unlucky combatant was a white-feathered rooster with a Spaniard's sword, but instead of matching metal with metal, Grimwold kept plucking out bottles of foul-smelling liquid and throwing them forward. When they smashed, the mat began to bubble as if it been touched with acid. The rooster yelped, trying to avoid stepping in it, dropping his sword in fright. Grimwold picked it up, trying to jab his enemy with it. “There's plenty more where that came from, bird-brain!”

The rooster knees began to knock together. “B-B-But that's my father's sword!”

“Finders keepers, losers weepers!” Grimwold laughed, ready to grab another bottle from his belt. “Ready for round two?”

No he was not, and the rooster turned chicken, running with his tail between his legs – which, much to Donald's fright, meant he was next in line.

“That guy is cheating!” Minnie shrieked, terrified for her friend, trying to stand up and get someone's attention. “That can't be fair! Someone stop that match!” But her cries went unheard, though not unnoticed – Daisy caught some of the servants looking right at Minnie and writing something with a smile.

Hilda, for her part, was enjoying the show and applauding loudly. “That's my hubby! All of you guys are just target practice!”

Servants that weren't joining Wander's side were walking around all the matches, and every so often they'd tap a man on the shoulder and tell him he lost, officially kicking them out, even if they were winning hands-down. This happened to the penguin Mickey was fighting, much to Mickey's confusion and the bird's anger. “H-H-How dare you! This match has b-b-barely started!”

“Sorry, pal, but there's just no love being felt here,” the servant said calmly, slapping a pair of chains on the penguin's wrists and dragging him away kicking and stuttering. Off in the audience, Daisy saw that his counterpart, a pink penguin who had been busy putting on-makeup, was also being dragged off. Daisy smirked, starting to get an idea about the real game getting played. Mickey had no time to question what was going on, as his next opponent, a monkey with a super long tail used for throwing everything he could reach, was already trying to take him down.

Donald gulped as he stepped in front of Grimwold, not sure who he was more afraid of – Grimwold or himself. Grimwold laughed, a hand to his forehead in disbelief. “Really, you're my next opponent? They just ought to hand over the prizes already... I bet I won't I have to use any more of my tricks on you.” He didn't know how to use a sword, but how hard could it be? You just made stabbing motions and eventually you'd stab something, right?

It wasn't exactly a worthless strategy, as Donald was having trouble dodging these rapid swings, wincing as he felt steel strike skin. What was he supposed to do, he didn't have any weapons! It was taking all his energy just to survive and move! He tried to find Mickey with his eyes, ready to shout for help – but as he saw Mickey pinning down the monkey with his blade, he realized Mickey wasn't looking for him. Mickey didn't have to – he believed in Donald's victory. For that matter, he had his own things to worry about, and in that moment Donald felt incredibly selfish.

One day, when Mickey's parents were rescued and this journey was over, he would go home and be out of Donald's life. Donald would eventually have to fend for himself, he couldn't rely on Mickey forever. Was he really going to spend the rest of his life afraid of what he could do? If so – what was the point of leaving Flintheart's evil grasp? Hadn't he left to change things? Mickey had called him the greatest treasure in all of Taqs – and Donald was going to earn that.

Grimwold finally stopped his barrage, but only because he was pointing the sword at Donald's neck. “Ready to give up? Or are we having skish-ka-duck for dinner?”

Donald met Grimwold's eyes, and he could feel anger burning through his feathers. But it was not an anger that would overtake him and make him lose control – this was anger that everyone felt at some point in their lives, and sometimes, anger had its uses. Donald felt crackles of electricity running along his arm. He would not kill Grimwold, he would not – and he knew he would not. “It's already over?” Donald asked, slowly lifting his hand to touch the sword, yet he didn't try to push it away or grab it. “That's a real shame... I was feeling like there was a spark between us.”

In that instant, he commanded that lightning flowing through his body to channel forward through his fingers, and it raced through the metal sword – a quite handy conductor – to shock Grimwold so badly that he jerked in six different positions before flopping to the ground, his hair sizzling and his tongue flopped out. Hilda shrieked, and demanded that the duck be keelhauled, executed, and hung, in that order – but this time she was drowned out by Minnie and Daisy's amazed, happy cheering.

“Way to go, Gladstone!” Minnie clapped lightly, rather proud of her friend. “You really did it!”

Donald could feel himself blushing, and tried to pry the sword out of Grimwold's hands, hoping to return it to its rightful owner, but found it stuck. As he prepared for his next round, Daisy nudged Minnie with her elbow. “Cheer for him louder.”

Minnie stopped, curious. “You don't think he heard me?”

“He's not who you have to worry about, just cheer louder!” She then stood up, and put her hands around her beak to emphasize her own shouts. “Mortimer, Mortimer, he's my man, if he can't do it, no one can!”

Perplexed, Minnie tried again, going as loud as she could. “Gladstone, you're the best! You can take them all on! You're going to defeat every single last one of them!” After a pause, she glanced at Daisy. “This is starting to get embarrassing.”

“That's the point.” Daisy nodded her head towards Father Wander and the servants. “I figured it out. Even if someone withdraws or gets knocked out, the servants aren't taking them away. Look who they're really watching.” Minnie lifted her head, and Daisy was, for once, correct – the servants weren't watching the matches at all. Instead, their eyes were actually on the audience, analyzing each person cheering. “This part of the contest has nothing to do with winning or losing the fights... they're seeing who is going to cheer for their lovers! Anyone distracted or not cheering loud enough gets them disqualified!”

Minnie caught on, snapping her fingers. “So if we make our cheers extra mushy and lovey-dovey, that'll land us closer to Runner-Up?”

“Now you got it, kid. Follow my lead!” Daisy cleared her throat, smoothed down her dress, picked out her pipe from her ponytail... and then began to dance around with sharp, swift motions, kicking high and throwing her hands around. “He'll chew you up and spit you out, 'cause that's what my man's all about! GOOO MORTIMER!”

Minnie quickly copied Daisy's motions, adding in some clapping hands and rhythmic stomping. “His name is Gladstone, and he is strong, he'll bring me a victory if he has to break every bone! GOOO GLADSTONE!”

“HEY HEY, WHAT DO YOU SAY, OUR HUSBANDS ARE HERE TO WIN THE DAY!”
“THEY WILL ROCK YOU DOWN, SHAKE YOU UP LIKE A VOLCANO, READY TO ERUPT!”

The good news was that these creative and incredibly noisy cheers were winning over the judges who happily jotted this down in their notes. The bad news was that this was embarrassing the stuffing out of Mickey and Donald, which made it that much harder to concentrate on their fights. Maybe they wouldn't have minded so much if their real names were being used... No, no, still mortifying. As a result, when the fighting was finally called off – a staggering thirty minutes later – both boys had a good number of bruises and cuts to their name. The remaining husbands and wives were allowed to recuperate with each other for another thirty minutes, and so Mickey quickly marched right into Daisy's face. “Hi. Never do that again.”

Daisy blew a raspberry. “Fiddle-de-dee. I bet you would've loved it if she said your name with that much passion.”

Mickey refused to answer that. Donald approached his friends, and although his body ached, his spirit was rising. “Boy, that was kind of fun! I managed to control my powers and make it through the whole thing! I bet I could take down that Phantom Prince anytime now!”

Mickey smiled a little, amused by Donald's enthusiasm, and Minnie chuckled quietly. “It was wonderful seeing your first victory, Donald. I'm sure many more are to come. And I'll be cheering you on all the way! … But hopefully, not as loudly next time.”

Donald laughed and ruffled Minnie's head – and that's when it hit him that he'd touched her plenty before and never hurt her. Why, the entire time he carried her throughout Khade Town, his lightning had never once struck her. One memory connected another and another – how many times had Panchito and Jose snuggled up to Donald for an impromptu dance session, and what about that huge kiss Daisy planted on him? He'd never hurt any of the crew members, and looking back on things, they never seemed to expect him to hurt them. It had never only been Mickey who placed their faith in Donald. Overcome with emotion, Donald felt his eyes water, and without warning hugged Minnie tightly, finally understanding that he'd always been in control, and he'd always been cared for. He was still searching for his blood family, but he also had a family here. Minnie, surprised, returned the hug and patted his back. Mickey's own smile began to grow, happy to see his friends happy.

Daisy, as usual, had to ruin it. “If you actually fell in love with her now, this would be a serious case of bad timing.”

Donald quickly thrust Minnie out of his arms and into Mickey's. “NO! I DIDN'T, I SWEAR!”

Now it was Mickey's turn to blush. “Could we please make it through the rest of the competition without you playing tricks, 'Donna'?”

“We could. Doesn't mean we will.”

The girls began to explain why exactly they were cheering their heads off, and as they did, Mickey didn't realize that during the fight, the bandanna around his neck had slipped off. Even if he had known, he probably wouldn't have cared too much about the golden scar that stood out. In this wacky competition, who would wonder about an odd mark or two?

Hilda cared, as she helped her husband regain consciousness. She was kneeling on the floor, his head in her lap, but her eyes were glued to that shine, and a plan began to form. She already knew his real identity, but now she could hatch a way to make him obedient. “Don't you worry, Grimmy-goo,” She whispered, unsure if her husband could hear her, one hand on his forehead and the other on his newly obtained sword. “Our real prize is going to fall into our hands.”

Chapter Text

The rest of that day and the following day were much of the same – silly displays of what Father Wander and his servants considered to be the truest of true love. This involved feeding each other cake, reciting poetry made up on the spot, dramatic re-tellings of their first encounters, carrying their bride over dangerous thresholds, and so on and so forth. More couples continued to be dragged away when they didn't meet the ridiculously high standards of Father Wander, but there were still enough people for Mickey, Minnie, Donald and Daisy to lose Runner-Up. All four of them did their best, refusing to give up, and took everything as seriously as possible.

… Well, three of them did.

Donald and Minnie had no troubles with their tasks, so devoted to their friend that they were able to give masterful performances. When Donald accidentally dropped a piece of cake on Minnie's dress, she merely laughed it off, and they chatted about favorite desserts. Minnie discovered she had a talent for rhyming during poetry, Donald made up a well-thought out story of love at first sight, and they crossed their threshold – theirs lined with dangerous metal spikes – without a scratch. Working together, they found there was nothing they couldn't do, and happily enjoyed each other's company.

Mickey and Daisy were such a different story, one could almost say they were another genre entirely. Mickey was trying to play the role of a devoted husband as best he could, but Daisy continued to have fun at his expense. She smashed her cake into his face, wanting to “recreate their wedding”. For poetry, she made an entire list of made-up phobias he had, assuring him that she loved him despite all his weaknesses. As Mickey tried to create a story about their first meeting, Daisy kept interrupting with new details that Mickey had to struggle to connect. Their threshold crossing, which involved fire and brimstone, ended with a singed tail and Daisy whining about her poor ashy dress. Each new section of the contest was like another heavy burden on Mickey's shoulders, and his temper was rising.

By the end of the second night, Mickey had trouble sleeping, due to how much Daisy had utterly and thoroughly annoyed him during all hours of the day. If she had been planning to act this way the entire time, why couldn't she have chosen Donald and left him alone?! He hated thinking this way, wanting someone else to suffer in his stead, but she was driving him crazy. In addition to this, he missed Minnie terribly. Even though he saw her as often as he could, it just wasn't the same as having her by his side and hearing his name. Each part of the contest was a reminder of the things he promised he wouldn't do to her and with her until she was free – and at times he hated himself for making such a promise, even though it had been the morally right thing to do. He wanted to earn her love the right way, but what if when she was free, she only thought of him as the Son of Scheherazade?

Morning came and Mickey was exhausted, having slept very little. Donald flashed him a look of pity as they lined up for breakfast, but when he asked what was wrong with his friend, Mickey barked that nothing was wrong, he just missed his dear little wife so terribly. Donald winced, but didn't give up. “It's the last day,” Donald reminded him, trying to offer a smile. “In just a few hours, this will all be over, and we'll be back on the ship.”

Mickey gave this some thought. “...I guess I could make it a few more hours,” he finally replied, fighting off a yawn. “But after this, I kind of never want to see 'Donna's' face again.” The men were taken to a small dining room, where a hearty meal was being served, and Father Wander was standing at the end of the table, always pleased to see everybody. Mickey tried not to look at him. “And I'm convinced this guy wouldn't know actual love if it bit him on the face.”

Donald paused to consider this. “I guess if we're actually fooling him, you're right. Makes this whole thing a sham, doesn't it?” Perhaps after doing this contest for years and years, the competition had lost its original meaning. It was a shame, he thought, because an actual celebration of happiness that being with certain people brought would have been something great. Maybe once upon a time there hadn't been temptation tests or cake-eating or poetry. As they sat down, Donald lightly slapped Mickey's shoulder, still wanting to help. “When we win the map and get back to the ship, we should have a party!”

Mickey blinked at him, his anger beginning to settle down. “A party?”

“Yeah! To celebrate getting a huge leap closer to your folks! We can be our real selves again, and sing and dance and be with all our friends! Wouldn't that be fun?”

Actually, that did sound like fun, and Mickey missed Goofy and the others, all their odd behavior included. “That's not a bad idea,” he said as he imagined Panchito playing the guitar, Jose asking for all the details, Clarabelle and Horace arguing then dancing together, and Goofy giving Mickey one of his affectionate ruffles between the ears. “Yeah! We should absolutely do that! It'll be great!” Now that he had something to look forward to, perhaps his anger would stay in check today -

Or perhaps it wouldn't as his chair was knocked over, due to Grimwold shoving himself into the next seat adjacent. “Move it, shorty.”

Donald was up in seconds. “Hey! You did that on purpose!”

Grimwold didn't reply to Donald – as he was actually slightly terrified of the duck, who had somehow zapped him into unconsciousness days before – and kept his sights on Mickey. “I still have a bone to pick with you.”

Mickey clenched his teeth as he put his chair back up. “A bone? All I ever did to you was tell you to stop bullying people! It's not my fault you're a huge jerk!” He slammed his hand down on the table, starting to get the attention of the others.

“It's not bullying when someone is clearly stronger and better than you!” Grimwold leaned over Mickey, sneering right back at him. “No one has ever talked back to a Gloom and lived to tell the tale! I think it's about time we settle this!”

“Fine by me!” Mickey snapped back, ignoring Donald's tugging on his sleeve and insistent pleas that this was not the time or place for such an argument. “The sooner I get you off my back, the better! I can't stand people like you, who think they should always get what they want! The world doesn't work that way, and people aren't your toys to play with!” Was he yelling at Grimwold, or someone else?

“Then let's finish this, mano a mano!”

“Right here, right now!”

They both could've sworn they heard the ringing of a boxing bell – except it turned out to be a real bell, much to their confusion. This was Father Wander, ringing a small bell in his hand, eyebrows quirked at the display presented before him. “I must say, gentlemen, I am surprised by this behavior! This isn't in the spirit of our romantic competition!”

Donald jerked – was this impromptu fight going to get them disqualified? He thought quickly, then flailed his hands. “Yes it is! Of course it's in the spirit! Because... because they're fighting over... whose wife is prettier!”

Father Wander watched the two in genuine hopes this was correct. “Really?”

“... Yeah, sure.” Grimwold stood up straight, smoothing down his blue hair. “After all, my Hilda is like a goddess in human form! And this miscreant thought his ragamuffin could honestly compare to her. It's laughable really!”

This was supposed to be the part where Mickey was going to falsely gush about Daisy's beauty and grace and all her likable features, but he couldn't. He was so sick of having to tell lies and praise a woman who was getting on his last nerve, especially to the guy who was getting on the second-to-last nerve. Mickey was angry, Mickey was incredibly angry at everyone and everything – at Grimwold for picking such a stupid fight. At Donald who thought Mickey needed help. At Father Wander for not noticing the obvious, at this whole moronic competition that was never about real passionate love, at Daisy who put him through this, at the Phantom Prince who took his parents and made him go through this ordeal – and then he found anger at people who had nothing to do with anything, except to make this anger grow, Goofy, for agreeing with this whole farce, and Panchito and Jose who never shut up and Horace and Clarabelle for their insipid arguments, and his mother for lying to him and his father for -

And his father for -
And his father for -
IT'S NOT FAIR! HOW DARE YOU LIVE?! WHY DO YOU DESERVE TO LIVE?!
His heart began to beat in his ears and suddenly he was a little boy and he was scared and confused and his parents weren't there and there was blood and there was pain and screaming and tears and -

“Awww!” Father Wander's very loud coo startled Mickey out of his past – Mickey who had begun to sweat and shake, his fingers clutching the tablecloth so hard he'd begun to tear it, his breath coming in and out rapidly. “Mortimer, you're so offended on your wife's behalf, you just can't control yourself, can you?”

It took Mickey a moment to remember where he was, and his breathing slowed, suddenly very aware of all the eyes on him. He felt nauseous, and his hand flew to his neck, rubbing the scar over and over. “Yeah,” he answered quietly, afraid of where he'd just been. “I just... love her so much, you know.” The answer came automatically without thinking, and he sat back down, not touching his food. Grimwold also sat down, deciding not to push his luck any further, although he was smirking. As far as he was concerned, he just laid down the first part of his trap. Donald watched Mickey, worried, but over what he wasn't sure of. In that brief second, Mickey had changed into someone unrecognizable. The body had been Mickey's, of course, but the eyes had grown dark and instant, reflecting a hate so powerful that it threatened to swallow everyone whole. Donald had never seen anything like it, not even in Flintheart's cruelest moments, and he could've sworn that if Father Wander hadn't inadvertently put an end to it, the thing that looked like Mickey was going to strike.

“That's just the mood we need for our final day!” Father Wander continued, ringing the bell again, this time for the melody. “We only have one more display of love to go through, and then my friends and I will decide the winners! Ooh, isn't this exciting?” he applauded, expecting everyone to do the same, but didn't mind when they chose not to. “At noon, we'll have everyone gather in the prayer room of the chapel. In there we have a set of magic mirrors! We'll have the chosen pair stand in front of the mirrors, and their reflection will show who they truly love.”

Donald spat out the juice he'd been drinking. “What? Magic?! Honest to goodness magic?!” Why in the world hadn't they just done that on day one and saved everyone the trouble? How were they supposed to fool magic? Their lies would be revealed in an instant! Did Daisy know about this? No, perhaps this was beyond even her – Donald desperately wanted to believe that Daisy had an ounce of goodness, or basic sense, in her. It was probably the desire for another kiss making him believe this, which still popped into his head every day. Donald looked at Mickey, hoping for him to have an idea or to be equally upset, but Mickey was still not entirely there.

The prince now had his hand on his mouth, fighting a battle in his chest, trying to still the monster that had threatened to come out. He had barely heard anything Father Wander had said, the competition now the last thing on his mind. He could not let the beast out now, not ever. His anger had always been one of his biggest flaws, but it had never ate at him so badly before – perhaps because he had been so spoiled and privileged until his parents were taken away. But now he had problems and people he didn't know how to handle and his insides were bubbling hotly. Maybe it would go away on its own. He hoped so.

“Until then,” Father Wander had utterly ignored Donald's outburst, “You're free to spend the day as you wish! I bet you've all missed your significant others so much! So eat up, and then love up! Noon's not that far away!” He tried another attempt at applause and was still met with rejection.

Mickey stabbed a piece of meat with his fork and forced it into his mouth, even though he had no appetite. Donald kept asking him over and over if he was okay and Mickey would not answer. Once Mickey's plate was entirely clear, he shoved himself away from the table, hopped off the chair, and walked away as fast as his feet would take him. Donald wanted to follow him, but felt he still wouldn't be answered. Maybe the girls would have some ideas, he wished, and once he finished his meal he set out to find them. Perhaps for now it would be best to leave Mickey alone with whatever thoughts were haunting him.

Things would be all right, Donald was convinced of this. They would win the map, and have their party, and Mickey would be happy, and Minnie would be happy, and Daisy would tell them where the next part of the map was, and they'd dance and sing and be merry. There was nothing to be worried about. Mickey would be fine.

So why did he keep staring at Mickey's empty chair with a sense of dread?

~*~

Donald did manage to meet up with Daisy and Minnie, and while he told them of the magical mirror mishap, he didn't mention the argument between Mickey and Grimwold. He felt it would serve little purpose, and given Daisy's All Seeing Eye, maybe she already knew. Besides, the mirrors would be a real challenge.

The three of them were sitting outside on the church steps, trying to decide what to do. “Maybe we can use a wish on this,” Daisy suggested, her usually manipulative brain running low on ideas. “I think this is a desperate times call for desperate measures deal.”

Minnie sighed, shaking her head. “My Master is dead-set on not using my wishes. He only uses them when his life is in danger... or a slip of the tongue.” With faint amusement she recalled a time when Mickey had almost accidentally wished Jose to stop smoking, but he had caught himself just as he said the word wish – he slapped his hands over his mouth with such force that he knocked the back of his head against the wall. He then profusely apologized to Minnie, only stopping when he heard her giggling.

“Maybe we can make up some kind of hokey-story to explain the reflections.” Donald furrowed his brows. “Father Wander and his goons believe just about everything we say to them already.”

Daisy smirked as she heard Donald's plan, making her own decisions, and Minnie pouted, looking around. “We really should be discussing this with my Master. Where is he now?”

“I don't know.” Donald didn't meet her eyes, still reluctant to share what had happened. “He just needed to... blow off some steam. I'm sure he'll come find us before everything starts. Worse comes to worse, we can just beg for that map, and maybe they'll have some pity on us.”

Minnie leaned back on the seats, watching the sky. “I hope he's all right. He's been working so hard on those maps every night... Do you think he's getting enough sleep? Or enough to eat?” Minnie missed Mickey just as much as he was missing her, though neither guessed that the other was longing for them so deeply. She disliked sleeping away from her lamp, if only for the fact that it meant she couldn't be at Mickey's side at a second's notice. She just wanted to be useful to him in any way imaginable.

Daisy clicked her tongue. “What are you, his mother?”

What was meant to be a tease brought Minnie somewhere else, as she faced Daisy with a curious expression. “By the way... why is my Master's mother so important anyway? Why was it a big deal that she has the All-Seeing-Eye instead of telling stories?”

Donald made a startled noise in his throat. “What? You don't know? Everyone knows the story of Scheherazade. Even I got told that tale, before my nannies got too scared to watch over me. It's the most famous story in the whole wide world!”

Daisy lit her pipe, coming to the correct conclusion instantly. “Maybe so... but then, not every master thinks their slaves should know everything about the world.”

Minnie bit her lip, saying nothing. It was true that many of her past masters, even ones who had started out kind and generous, treated her more as an object than as a living person, much less a friend to share stories with. It was possible they thought if she was more educated, knew more about the world, she'd try to leave them or influence their wishes. Now it made her feel like a fool, left out of the earth's most obvious facts. “I feel like there's something my Master isn't telling me.” Her voice was quiet, her eyes downward, remembering the hesitation Mickey had shown the last time they spoke of his mother. “If Sultana Scheherazade is such a wonderful and amazing person... why won't he tell me what the story is?”

Donald and Daisy looked at each other, a cold dread creeping up their backs. They had a fairly good idea that it wasn't so much Mickey's mother that was the problem. Was it their place to speak of it? Even Daisy, who reveled in the pain of others, seemed to be debating. She was about to come to a final choice, when the church bells rang, loud but melodic. She exhaled a stream of smoke. “They're probably about to start setting things up in the prayer room... Let's get there early and try to see what we can do.”

Minnie frowned, but made no objection. The explanation could wait another day, she supposed, and if they lost the mirror challenge, they could try to find a way around it. Nothing was impossible, so long as they had her magic and Mickey's cleverness. Maybe that's what he was doing now, using his brilliant mind to think of a winning strategy. Dear, darling, clever master. Minnie didn't need, nor want, fancy poetry or cakes or fights to prove how Mickey felt about her, since he wore his emotions on not just his sleeve but his entire outfit. As long as he was himself, Minnie was content. She hadn't realized she began smiling, but Donald did, and he felt that worry from before get stronger.

No, surely everything would be all right. The three of them thought this calming phrase over and over – everything would be all right.

~*~

Mickey had been, of all places, up on the roof. To him, it was the closest thing that resembled the balcony of his room back at the palace. He had hoped that the familiar view would calm him down, and while it did ease his anger, it didn't erase it entirely . His hate found new forms to attack with, and they all centered around himself. How could he be so immature, rising to Grimwold's taunts, when there were much fiercer enemies up ahead? If he couldn't handle himself in front of a simple man, how could he hope to defeat the Phantom Prince? He was doing nothing but bringing shame to his parents. The only thing he was grateful for was that Minnie hadn't seen that childish display. Minnie, Minnie, Minnie, he wanted to see her, he wanted to see her so badly, he wanted her touch and her kiss and her love even though he hadn't done anything to deserve it.

If she could just fall in love with him before she knew what Mickey's father had done, what his mother had done, what the story was, then maybe things would work out. She could love him for him and not where he came from. But in the end he knew that it was far, far better to be worshiped as a false idol than to be hated. He knew what it was like to be hated. And while it was not impossible to say she wouldn't hate him if she knew, that one in a million chance would never go away, even though he had not been at fault. The sins carried through his blood. He felt nauseous again.

The church bells rang, and Mickey was glad to hear them. Now he could enter the final lap of this whole frivolous affair, get the map, get back on the ship, and hear his name again. He stood up, smoothed down his robes, and headed for the door that led back into the church – only to find Grimwold was on the other side. Mickey slammed the door in his face. “First off,” Grimwold said on the other side, “Rude. Second, there isn't another way down.”

Mickey sighed very, very deeply, before opening the door. “The bells are ringing, that probably means the last part of the contest is ready. If we're late, they'll probably disqualify us. So we don't have time to fight.”

But instead of taunting or insulting, Grimwold backed up from the door, showing the stairs. “Actually, I wanted to make you an offer. You were right, bullying isn't going to get me anywhere. It certainly hasn't helped with the contest one bit.”

That was... suspiciously nice and quick of a conclusion. Mickey squinted, and headed for the stairs, Grimwold trailing behind him. “An offer? What are you talking about?”

“The truth is, there's really only one prize me and my amazing Hilda are after.” Grimwold put a hand to his heart, closing his eyes to emphasize his sincerity – but this wasn't the best idea, as he tripped and fell down, and had Mickey not stepped aside in time he would have joined him. Mickey blinked at the crumpled heap on the floor, wondering if perhaps the Glooms had more bark than bite. But then Grimwold popped back on his feet, using the same pose, as if nothing had happened. “You see, we never got the honeymoon we wanted. I just want her to have the best in life, and if I could help get her that prize, I'd be the happiest man in the world.”

Mickey walked onto the floor and into the hallway. “What's that got to do with me?”

“I'm no fool.” Grimwold now walked at Mickey's side. “The judges have been studying you and your wife intensely. You're going to be a winner, I can tell. Maybe that's why I can't help but... act impolitely to you and your friends at every opportunity.” A hearty chuckle. “Why not let bygones be bygones, and have a chat about what to do about it? We can use the men's chambers – with everyone filing into the prayer room, it's sure to be empty. And since you guys entered last, you'll probably be chosen last for the mirror match.”

Mickey stopped walking to give Grimwold a deadpan look. “This is a trap.”

“A trap?” Grimwold staggered backwards, his acting getting so hammy a pig would've been envious. “A trap! I am wounded! I am hurt! Here I am, offering an olive branch of friendship, and you dare call it a trap!”

“A-huh.” Mickey crossed his arms, unimpressed. “So if we go into the men's chambers, your wife isn't going to be there to help outnumber me, and you two aren't going to threaten me into dropping out?”

It took five seconds for Grimwold to answer – Mickey counted. “...Nnnnooo.”

The prince rolled his eyes so far in his head he almost saw brain matter. These two almost weren't worth getting angry about. But Mickey thought this through – if he denied Grimwold now, maybe he'd do something worse in the prayer room, disrupting the whole thing for a temper tantrum and making this whole ordeal longer. If it was a trap, and it absolutely was, Mickey believed he could handle the Glooms very easily. His combat skills had improved immensely during his time on the ship, and what did they have? Bottles of acid he could dodge, and a stolen sword – he saw it on Grimwold's hip – that they didn't even know how to wield? Maybe once they were defeated, they'd shut up and leave Mickey alone.

With a regretful sigh, Mickey resumed walking. “Yeah, sure. Let's go and hear the offer.”

“Yes! Excellent!” Grimwold rubbed his hands, genuinely under the belief that Mickey had fallen for the asinine plot. “Right this way, my young friend!” It was only a hop, skip, and a jump to the chambers, and when they opened the doors, Mickey was totally and completely not surprised to see Hilda there, standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, bursting into evil laughter.

“Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly!” Hilda cackled, giving Grimwold a thumbs-up as he closed the door behind them. “You've fallen right into our trap!”

“Oh no,” Mickey said without a single trace of emotion. “A trap. I never would have guessed. Oh gee. Oh my.”

Grimwold frowned and looked over at his wife. “Honey, I don't think he's appreciating all the hard work we put into this plan!”

“Well, he'll care when we tell him the real reason we're here.”

Mickey could feel his temper rising again, and he rubbed one of his temples. “You two can have whatever prizes you want, okay? We just want the map! A map that's of no use to anyone else! So you win, hurray, good for you, can I leave now?”

“You're leaving all right,” said Hilda as she began to walk forward. “But with us... the Phantom Prince has big plans for you, Son of Scheherazade.”

Those two titles slammed down onto Mickey like falling bricks, and hearing them together by someone else's voice was such a shock that at first Mickey was sure it couldn't have happened. He knew his real name hadn't been used once, not once, and even if it had, no one else even knew what or who the Phantom Prince was. After all, wasn't it only a legend that a dying tribe passed along? “What... did you say?” His voice came out weaker than expected.

“You heard us, your highness.” Grimwold pushed Mickey from behind, making him stumble. “As if we need some cheap prizes to prove we're the best couple in the whole world... the Phantom Prince has promised us riches beyond our wildest imaginings if we bring you in! Do you have any idea how far his dark power reaches?”

“He's told us all we need to know,” Hilda added, leaving out the more truthful interpretation that they only knew what they had asked. “So if you don't want any more trouble, you'll be a good boy and come along with us quietly.”

So far they had only been right about a few things – Mickey had no idea how far the Phantom Prince's reach was, or how many minions he had around the world, lying in wait to capture him. How many were willing to sell him out for their own greed? How did they find Mickey in the first place and know to enter the contest? Was his mother being forced into using her All-Seeing-Eye? Was she being threatened into doing so? Tortured? Heat filled his head. “You two can't possibly think I'd just agree to be your prisoner!” He placed one foot back, and steadied his arms, remembering the vital lessons Horace and Clarabelle had taught him. “If it's a fight you want, that's exactly what you'll get!”

“Now why would we make such a mess.” Grimwold pulled out his sword, but made no threatening moves with it just yet. “When we can do this the easy way? Either you come with us now... or we can all head into the prayer room together... and Hilda and I will tell everyone who you really are!”

“Forget about just disqualification.” Hilda moved to stay by Grimwold's side, her heels pressing hard into the floor. “But what about your precious wife? Does she know the full story? Does she know where you came from?”

Mickey gawked – they knew who he was, but didn't realize Daisy's role was fake? It was laughable, and he almost did laugh, except – except there was someone who didn't know the full story. Someone who Mickey cared very deeply for. He could feel his arms trembling. She didn't know. She didn't have to know. She didn't have to be given the choice of love or hate, not yet, not today, that wasn't fair, they didn't have a right to say anything.

“I must say.” Grimwold smirked, rubbing his nose. “Fetching yourself a beauty like that is impressive... and it'll be amazing to see her reaction when she finds out her husband is the Child Born Of Blood.”

It's not fair. It's not fair. Mickey's heart was thumping hard, and his breath came in quickly through his nostrils. They couldn't say this. They didn't know anything. They didn't understand.

“In a way, we'd be doing her a favor.” Hilda nodded to herself. “After all, history does tend to repeat itself. We could be saving her life by telling her who you are. I bet you're just the exact image of your father... in every single way.”

Shut up.
Shut up.
Shut up.
It wasn't like that.
He didn't mean to. He lost control. He stopped. He learned.
Mickey wasn't like that. No he wasn't. He could never be like that.
They had no right THEY HAD NO RIGHT -

Grimwold approached Mickey, the sword out, but he didn't feel he'd really have to use it. “So, what's it going to be? A harmless get-a-way with us, or do we get to play storyteller to the love of your life?” He pointed the sword at Mickey's neck, right where the scar was -

He pointed the sword at Mickey's neck -

And suddenly – and suddenly -

And suddenly Mickey was four years old, a bright little child who was the apple of his parents' eyes. It took longer for him to learn how to walk and talk because his parents spoiled him endlessly. Mama was telling one of her stories even though Mickey could only grasp at a few concepts, and was paying more attention to the plush bear she was playing with, making it mime walking and talking. He giggled and clapped his hands, and Papa was trying to get in on the fun, tickling Mama until she shrieked with laughter. Papa loved Mama and Mama loved Papa, and Papa and Mama loved Mickey, and Mickey loved them.

But their good time was interrupted when one of the older servants entered the room, a kindly quiet maid whose hair was graying several years too early. An ambassador had arrived a whole day early, much to his parents' surprise. The maid offered to put Mickey down for his nap while they spoke with the ambassador, and she picked him up, cuddling him close. Mickey fussed about naptime, but she booped his nose with a wrinkled finger, and he laughed again. Mama and Papa left, but Mama was frowning, deep in thought.

The nice maid carried Mickey off to his room, telling him how lucky he was and how everyone loved the Son of Scheherazade. Mickey merely nodded, sucking his thumb. In his brightly colored room, she didn't put him down on the bed. Instead she knelt on the floor, and sat him down. “You love your Mama very much, don't you?”

Mickey smiled. “Love Mama!” he repeated with true enthusiasm.

The woman smiled back, but her smile was dark, secretive, something ugly brewing under the surface. “And you love your Papa very much, don't you?”

“Love Papa!” Mickey agreed, clapping his hands. Was this a new game?

“I had someone I loved once,” the maid said, reaching to grab something hidden in her dress. “But your Papa took her away from me. Your Papa took away so many people's loved ones.” Her sickly sweet voice began to hiss with strong acid, her pretty eyes swirling into a loathing that Mickey couldn't fathom. “But now your Papa gets to live happily ever after. And you get to make him happy. That doesn't seem fair, does it?” Mickey didn't answer, couldn't answer, he didn't understand what was being asked of him. “Why do you, the Child Born of Blood, get to live, when my sweet sister didn't? What great purpose do you serve in life? Why were you born?”

Mickey didn't know what was going on, but he did understand he was very afraid, and he wanted Mama and Papa. The woman then struck her hand onto his chest, pressing him down into the floor, and in her hand was a sharp knife, and she was hissing and crying, “He doesn't deserve to be happy! And you don't deserve to live!”

Mickey screamed even when the knife sliced into his neck, screamed as the hot blood gushed out of his skin, screamed as the doors burst open and his parents rushed in with the guards, screamed as his hysterical mother took him into her arms and yelled for someone to get a medicine man. But no matter how loudly he screamed, he could still hear the maid even as she was dragged away.

“IT'S NOT FAIR! HOW DARE YOU LIVE?! WHY DO YOU DESERVE TO LIVE?!”

No, it wasn't fair. None of this was fair. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault. Was not, was not, was not his fault, they couldn't do this to him, wasn't fair, wasn't his fault, they wouldn't do this to him, not, not, NOT, NOT, GOING TO DO THIS TO HIM, NOT AGAIN, NOT EVER EVER AGAIN!

~*~

The mirror competition was starting, and several couples had been eliminated. The process was kind of simple – the couple stood in front of two golden, rather plain-looking mirrors, and waited to see their reflection. If they saw their own face, they were booted out. If they saw their loved one – and the “right” loved one – they stayed. Minnie, Donald, and Daisy nervously waited in the pews, glancing at the door every so often to see if Mickey would run in late. Minnie's patience was wearing out, and she whispered to her friends, “What could possibly be taking him so long? I think we should try to find him.”

Donald nodded nervously. “Yeah, we're really cutting it close. 'Donna', can you use your All-Seeing-Eye to find out where he is?”

Daisy huffed. “Such nervous Nellies. Fine, fine, but if I catch him doing something embarrassing, that's on you.” She leaned back in her seat, concentrated...

… And then went very pale. “Oh. Oh, no.” Her voice was unusually hushed, a fear that Donald and Minnie had never seen before, had never thought Daisy was capable of. “By the gods... we...we have to stop him!” She was on her feet then, but her legs were weak, sickened by some display, breathing erratically, not caring if she was making a scene. “We have to find him, now!”

“Stop him?” Donald asked, trying to catch Daisy from falling. “Stop him from what?”

“JUST GO!” Daisy screeched, catching everyone's attention and not caring. “Find him, now!” She couldn't even make out what room it was, too horrified by what she was seeing.

Minnie backed up, and then began running, even as she heard Father Wander ask what was going on. It didn't occur to her to simply will herself to Mickey's side, because if Mickey was in danger, he'd call her with his lamp, wouldn't he? So, logically, he shouldn't be in any danger, right? Yes, surely this was one of Daisy's tricks – even if she truly looked like death itself. No, Mickey was all right, had to be all right. She checked every door she came across, calling for “Mortimer”, and then she found the men's chambers, and opened the door.

The first thing she saw was blood.

Blood splattered across the walls in small spurts, broken beds and destroyed drawers, the carpet was ripped, and the stench of blood was everywhere. Hilda was thrown in a corner, suffering from many sharp cuts, dark bruises on her pale skin, her ankle twisted if not outright broken. She was on her hip, crying out for her husband, begging someone to stop.

And there, in the middle of the room was... a monster that had taken the form of her master.

Grimwold was on his back, both eyes blackened, and unlike Hilda, there was no doubt his arm was broken – no, not just broken, it was as if every last bone had been shattered. He was also cut to ribbons, bleeding openly in many places, and he would have been excruciating pain if he wasn't unconscious. Yet despite having clearly been knocked out, the beast that was sitting on his chest was still punching his face, smashing out a tooth, a mangled snarl behind his lips.

Minnie could not even blink. She knew this was Mickey but it couldn't be Mickey, not sweet, gentle Mickey who wanted her freedom and embraced Donald at the height of danger. This was a nightmare and she'd wake up any second now. She felt a sting in her eyes, and her breath caught. Don't cry, don't cry, you absolutely mustn't cry, if you cry everything will get worse, it is the law of genies, you must not cry, even if what you're seeing is enough to drive you to the brink of utter despair. She could not find words, could not find strength, could not believe this was the Mickey who stammered her name and touched her hands with softness.

The creature spotted the sword which had been dropped during the brawl, and he reached for it, because wouldn't it be fitting? Grimwold wanted this stupid sword so badly, he could have it. He could have the thing driven into his heart, and then he would learn, oh he would learn. Then they would never come after Mickey again, they would leave him alone, and he held the sword high, they would leave him alone and his parents alone and everyone would just shut up and stop blaming him and -

“STOP IT, MASTER!”

The world.
Went.
Still.

Mickey's body stopped where it was, and he slowly, slowly, slowly lifted his head. There was Minnie, now in front of him, her hands clasped around the sword in a desperate attempt to stop him, her fingers sliced open in the process. And it was here that Mickey saw in her eyes, those deep gorgeous green eyes that gave him comfort in his dreams, he saw something just as terrible as hatred – fear. Fear of him, and what he had done, and what he could do – and it was then that Mickey understood just what he had been doing.

His eyes widened, taking in the room, finally hearing Hilda's retching sobs, feeling the man he almost murdered breathing underneath him. “No,” Mickey whispered, dropping the sword, hands falling at his side. “No,” he said again, knowing it was futile, tears filling his eyes. “No... I didn't mean...” What had he done? What was he about to do? He hadn't meant – he just wanted – what did he want? There was no justification here, this had been a foolish pair of humans who hadn't thought things through, there had been no need to do... this.

Mickey crawled off Grimwold's body, his vision blurry from tears. It wasn't too late, and he looked at Minnie – then couldn't bear to look at her again. She was afraid of him. She sat where she was, staring at him as if he was a new breed of animal that'd been hiding in the darkest of shadows. Her body trembled, one of her hands on her pounding heart, the blood on her fingers staining her clothes. She was clearly fighting not to cry, with staggering breaths and a choke in her throat. How could he explain things to her when he couldn't explain it himself? “I'm sorry,” he pleaded, to Hilda, to Grimwold, to Minnie. “I'm so sorry.” But sorry wouldn't make things better, wouldn't save the man bleeding on the floor. “I wish... I wish the Glooms were healed.”

Minnie raised her hand, and Mickey's scar glowed – a glittering rain of sparkles descended onto the humans, and with each touch of pixie dust their bruises faded, their wounds closed. The familiar pain struck both mice, making them heap forward to gasp for air, but it seemed so mildly insignificant now compared to what had been done to the Glooms. Hilda didn't care what was happening or why, scrambling to reach her husband and cradle him in her arms. She pressed her forehead to his, weeping openly, telling him that she loved him and she was going to take him home, and the Phantom Prince could find someone else to do his dirty work.

Mickey tried to stand and couldn't, but knew it wasn't just the wish draining his energy. Minnie's eyes were still upon him, her gaze like a cold dagger of ice right into his heart. He deserved it. Even with magic, there was no reset button to undo what he'd done. He needed to get away from here. “I wish... I wish we were in my room, on the ship.”

In another puff of pink smoke, Mickey was suddenly on his bed, startling his sleeping dog. The agony of two wishes, and the crash of adrenaline from the fight, made every muscle in his body burn in pain, his bones aching as if they were being pulled apart, and even breathing became a fight with hard, loud gasps. Mickey laid on his back as Pluto yipped in concern, only having enough power to move his eyes to try and find Minnie, maybe explain what had led to everything. He didn't see her body, but he saw her pink smoke entering the lamp, and understood she was there now, and would be there for some time, unable to stand the sight of him.

“I'm sorry.” Mickey felt himself crying again, and the self-loathing he had managed to bury for so long came back with a furious vengeance, eating at his soul. “I'm sorry...” Pluto climbed onto the bed, snuggling up to his master, wishing to comfort him somehow.

He could not blame her for her fear, and he was now afraid as well – afraid of the monster called Mickey.

~*~

Donald would have gone on to chase with Minnie, but he was so concerned with Daisy's well-being that he couldn't bring himself to let her go. He held her close as she trembled, stroking her hair and asking what was going on, and the other couples and servants gathered around, hoping the poor girl was all right. Daisy finally began to show signs of calming down, sighing in relief once she “saw” that the Glooms would be healed. “They're going to be okay...”

“Well and good, whoever they are,” Donald said, cupping Daisy's cheeks. “But what about you? Are you okay?” As much as he wanted to get to know the “real” her, he never wanted it to be like this.

Daisy at last seemed to realize Donald was there, and had been there for some time, comforting her as she broke down. “Didn't I tell you to go?”

“But... I couldn't just leave you like that.” Donald hoped he wasn't in for a lecture or teasing. “He's important to me, but so are you, so's everyone in the crew. No man left behind, right?”

Daisy blinked at him, perplexed, because she thought she understood Donald completely, which made him so easy to mess with. This was not what she thought he was capable of, and it was... charming, in a way. Silly, foolish, and not helpful, but... charming. That could lead to problems. Speaking of problems, they were still surrounded by everyone, and she cleared her throat to alert Donald about the situation.

Father Wander made his way through the crowd. “My goodness, what in the world is going on here? Why did Madeline run off like that? And what's with you two?”

Donald looked at Daisy, and Daisy looked at Donald. It looked like the jig was up. Daisy rolled her shoulders, and grew serious. “Father Wander, it's time you heard the truth.”

“The truth?!” Donald spat, startled. “You're choosing now, of all times, to speak the truth?!”

Father Wander frowned, leaning forward but still trying to believe the best of them. “And the truth is what, exactly?”

Daisy placed her hands together, begging for understanding. “We've been lying to you this whole time. I'm sorry... but we had no choice. We never meant to make a mockery of your blessed celebration. I don't dare ask your forgiveness.”

Donald ran a hand down his face, but if Daisy was going to spill the beans, he might as well go along with her. “I know it was a dumb thing to do, but if you'll hear us out, I'm sure you'll agree, we had to do it.”

Daisy took Donald's hand and squeezed it. “Yes, for you see, the truth is...Gladstone and I are the ones in love!”

“Yes, that's exactly-” Donald's brain caught up with his ears. “... Wait, what?”

Daisy was easily back in lying mode, slumping her body against Donald's and cuddling up to him. “Our cruel master, Mortimer, made us enter this contest so we could win those prizes! So he forced me to pretend to be his bride! But I can't hold it back anymore...Gladstone is the one I'll always love, and I don't care who knows! Nothing Mortimer can ever do to me will stop me from loving him! As long as we're together, I can endure anything!”

“...You're unbelievable.” And Donald did not mean this as a compliment. Come on, surely even Father Wander wouldn't fall for this – he was going to fall for it, wasn't he.

“That's...so...romantic!” Father Wander began to cry, in loud, heaping, overly dramatic sobs. “A forbidden love inside a forbidden love? It's too beautiful! It's exactly in the spirit of Rumansy!” He threw his arms around Donald and Daisy, hugging them tightly. “We have true love right here! I don't need to hear anything more, they deserve a prize for having to hide their precious love! Never hide it again, it must be shared with the whole wide world! Shout it from the rooftops! I'll do it myself if I have to!”

“Please don't,” Donald insisted.

“Well, we don't need much,” Daisy fluttered her eyelashes, upping her innocent act. “Buuut... my darling Gladstone enjoys collecting maps, so if we could have the Runner Up Prize, that would just make everything worth it!”

“Of course, of course!” Father Wander signaled to the servants. “Hurry up and get that map piece out of storage! Glad to get rid of the weird thing, anyway.” As he flagrantly ignored his own rules and regulations, the remaining couples couldn't help but think if entering this contest had been worth anything. Luckily for Father Wander, websites devoted to giving tourist location reviews had yet to be invented.

As the servants rushed to fetch the map, Donald whispered to Daisy. “Did you plan this since the start, or have you been making it up as you go along?”

“Fiddle-dee-dee. I'll never tell.”

Donald made an exasperated sound, but found it difficult to get really mad at her. He wondered why that was, and it was a long time before he let go of her hand. He didn't notice that she didn't let go of his for a long time either. Instead he focused on what he knew to be correct – everything had turned out all right.

Yes, everything was all right, wasn't it?

Chapter Text

Goofy and the rest of the crew that hadn't entered the Rumansy romantic contest expected plenty of stories, laughter, and celebrating when their friends returned to the ship. They hadn't realized Mickey had wished himself and Minnie back into his room already, and when the ducks climbed back aboard, they didn't exactly wear faces of victory. Donald held the map piece in his fingers – it was withered and old, with a few details smudged, but there were distinct dark lines that lead to a destination. When he knocked on Mickey's door to deliver it, there was silence, and Donald quietly shoved it under the doorway. That was when Daisy called everyone together to tell them exactly what she had seen.

“I told you,” Horace spoke first, after several long minutes of shocked, uneasy silence. “I told you we should keep an eye on him. Who knows how far he could've gone if Minnie hadn't stopped him?”

“But Minnie did stop him!” Donald snapped, not allowing anyone to throw away the good Mickey had done for them all. “And it was because Daisy saw what happened! As long as we're all together, we can help Mickey through this! It's not his fault he just...” His hands clenched, then opened. “Lost control.” As much as he tried to defend his best friend, Donald's fear wasn't so easily defeated. It was a fear of the unknown – he never would have guessed such anger was ever in someone so kind. How long had Mickey been suppressing it? What could set it off again? “Isn't there anything we can do for him?”

Goofy got out of his chair, his face calm, and he stretched his arms before walking around the table. “Nothin' we can do right now except head to the next map piece. Daisy, do me a favor and set course.”

Daisy nodded once, grateful for the distraction. “Jose, Panchito, get some maps and meet me at the wheel. This trip will take a few days.” Jose and Panchito saluted, with Panchito plucking an extra sad melody on his guitar.

Clarabelle leaned on the chair her husband was sitting on. “Can't help but wonder... did he inherit that anger from the Sultan? Or is it all his own? Real scary, if you ask me. 'Course, that story always was kind of dark, even if it had a happily ever after. Never gave it too much thought before.”

“Well don't go start thinking too hard now,” Horace linked his arm with hers. “You'll strain something.”

Donald turned away from the ensuing argument, his heart heavy. What was he supposed to do now? Stick by Mickey's side forever and make sure he never lost his temper? No, that was insane, and it wasn't as if Mickey had never gotten mad before. But it had been understandable anger those times, and these days even Donald allowed himself to feel annoyed and aggravated, so long as his powers didn't go haywire. So what made this time different? What was the trigger to transform Mickey? Would they find it in time to stop it from happening again?

Similar questions were bogging down Goofy's mind, but he didn't allow them to constantly haunt him. After a trip to the kitchen, he knocked once on Mickey's door and sat down, a plate of cold food on his lap. Mickey didn't come to the door, and Goofy didn't expect him to. Mickey stayed in his room, curled up in his blankets, hating himself so deeply that he wished to never wake up again. Pluto was torn, unable to understand what causing his Master such grief. He even tried pawing the lamp in an effort to make Lady Friend come out, since Lady Friend liked Master, and she had a tendency to make Master smile just by looking at him. But she wouldn't come out, not for anything.

The genie stayed in her lamp, the prince stayed in his bed, and the captain stayed at the door for several long hours. Goofy even wound up sleeping at the door as day became night, but even as a new day came, he refused to move. Horace brought him food, Clarabelle argued with him, staying he needed proper rest, and Daisy had some fun lying to him about various disasters on the ship, such as Jose accidentally setting their sails on fire with his cigar. But no one would make him leave his spot, even when the second day began to end.

It was when the stars began to appear in the sky that, at last, the doorknob began to turn. It probably would have been a heartfelt and gentle reunion when the door opened, except that Goofy had fallen asleep again, and fell backwards with a loud THUD. Now he could see stars around his head, and he wondered for a moment if his head would ever harden, given all the accidents he seemed to have. His vision eventually straightened, and when he saw the red-eyed, thin face of Mickey, he smiled. “Hello.”

“... I'm sorry.” Mickey's voice was barely audible, slightly hoarse. “I should've... opened the... door sooner...” Speaking seemed to be a struggle, as if he was afraid that he would wind up crying like a child again if he spoke too much. What good would crying do? Or anger? Why had he been lying in bed sobbing when he could have been studying the new map piece? Selfish, stupid, spoiled, violent boy, what good was he, the maid was right, he didn't deserve to live, didn't deserve to have friends, didn't deserve anything -

Goofy stuck a piece of bread in Mickey's mouth. “Bottom's up!”

Mickey jerked, falling onto his behind, almost choking on the bread. After gagging, he managed to chew and swallow. “Goofy! You could've killed me!”

“Not to worry, I know the huckleberry maneuver! … Or was it the horn-blower maneuver? Pretty sure it begins with an H. And that it has lots of letters. Only ever heard the word, never saw it written. Words are funny like that! Sometimes you don't understand them until you see them in action. Helps with the whole learnin' process, I figure. Can't help what you don't know, and you never stop learning about anything, least of all yourself.” He then held up a piece of fruit. “Orange?”

Mickey was unsure if that was supposed to be some kind of lesson or Goofy was just going on a ridiculous tangent, as both were equally possible when it came to the oddball captain. He slowly took the orange slice and nibbled on it. “... I did a horrible thing. A really horrible thing.”

“Mm-hmm.” Goofy felt free to snack on the grapes, popping them one at a time into his mouth, missing on occasion. Pluto sniffed the ones that fell to the floor. “Daisy told us about it. Saw it with her All-Seeing-Eye. Yes, you did something very bad, and you should feel bad about it.” Goofy was rarely one to mince words or the truth.

Mickey flinched as if he had been physically stricken, and he felt a tremor within his chest. The words were true, but also painful. His eyes dropped to the floor in shame. “I understand if... if you don't want me on the ship anymore.”

“Huh. Well, I don't understand it, but then I don't understand much of anythin'.” Goofy shrugged. “And I don't understand giving up on things that can still work. A chicken can't fly on its own, no matter how hard it flaps its wings. But if it really wants to go up higher, it can climb to the top of the hen-house, or stand atop another chicken, or climb aboard a flyin' ship. 'Course, I think mine's the only flyin' ship in the whole wide world, but if the chicken really wanted to fly, he'd come find it. And I'd let him come aboard. We could name it Henrietta. Or is that a girl's name?”

It took Mickey a minute to understand what was being conveyed. “You... don't want me to give up on myself? Even though I could be a danger to everyone here?” Was this compassion or necessity?

“Shoot, I'm a good couple'a'feet taller than you, I'd stop you with just one kick to the head if'fn you ever went after me.” But Goofy said this like it was a fact, without meaning any insult or wit. It was just the state of things, and Goofy never saw any need to go any further than that. “If you wanna leave the ship, I sure won't stop you. But if there's something about yourself you don't like, it won't change just by running away and shutting yourself up in your room. Change takes work. Best kinda things in life take work. And if'fn you need help changing... ask for help. Gosh, everyone needs help. If nobody needed anybody, there'd be no cities or towns. Just be everyone living on their own. Be pretty lonely, I reckon.”

Why was Goofy always able to put things so simply and precisely? It made Mickey feel stupid for not coming to a similar conclusion either. The cycle of self-loathing felt ready to start up again, and Mickey shut his eyes hard. Things weren't supposed to be like this. “I don't know what to do,” he choked out. “And Minnie... Minnie won't come out... I messed up real bad... and I don't know what to do...” The idea of Minnie living in fear of him made his very soul ache, but worse still, if she was afraid of him, she'd never come out of the lamp and experience life again. She deserved to see the oceans and feel the breeze and laugh and sing. She deserved to know the happiness of a mortal life before she became one, and Mickey had ruined that. He felt the sting of tears again. Then he found himself... up.

Goofy had gently put his hands under Mickey's arms and lifted him, the boy weighing no more than a ragdoll to him, and placed him on his lap before holding him with every ounce of warmth and friendship he had. Even though Goofy's arms were thin and lanky, they reminded Mickey of the strong, thick arms of his father, and it was enough to make Mickey cry again, openly sobbing into Goofy's chest. But this time, his crying wasn't enough to make him ill or claw at his face. No, this time it simply felt... exhausting. And necessary. And when he was done, he didn't feel like he'd cry again, at least not for a while.

“Now then,” Goofy said when he was sure Mickey was finished, kindly ruffling him between the ears. “We'll just wait for Minnie to come on out when she wants to. Maybe by then, you'll know what to say. Or maybe you won't. But she'll come out. She's a good girl, that one. Remember how me and Horace told you to leave well enough alone when it came to her? You done proved us wrong. Old as I am, I'm still learning things. Ain't that just grand?”

Mickey was sure if he asked Goofy how old he was, he'd never get a direct answer. So he settled for what he knew, and he nodded numbly, holding the lamp in his hands and looking back at his reflection. He could change. Why couldn't he change? His father did, thanks to his mother's love. But Mickey wouldn't change just to win Minnie's hand. No, he'd change because he wanted to. For the sake of his parents and his friends, he'd change. How, he wasn't sure, but there had to be a way to contain what had been waiting inside of him. As much as he loved his father, Mickey wouldn't become him. Nor would he stay in Scheherazade's shadow. For so long, he had tried to be so unlike his mother that he was becoming his father. Where was the path that led to who Mickey was?

“Thank you,” Mickey said, tired. He remembered how Goofy said he had a wife waiting for him back home, and no doubt one day there would be a child. He remembered Goofy saying he had considered staying home with his beloved, were it not for Scheherazade's last request. Panchito, Jose, Horace, Clarabelle, Donald, Minnie, they all had dreams to fulfill but it was Mickey and his parents that were taking the lead. He would not let this be something they regretted.

Goofy stayed with Mickey for a long time, sometimes talking about the actual stories he'd lived through, and sometimes letting them stay quiet as they ate the spilled food. Mickey didn't feel entirely better or happier, but he was grateful. At the very least, he was grateful to them all.

~*~

Just like with the Rumansy competition, Daisy wouldn't reveal the trials and tribulations waiting for them in the next city until they were mere hours away. It had been several days since Mickey's explosion of anger, and Minnie still hadn't come out. At first, Horace was wary when Mickey returned to the living world, but one look at Mickey's worn-out face killed his paranoia and replaced it with guilt. Clarabelle was kinder, in her own way, reprimanding Mickey for not coming to his combat lessons, and telling him he'd better show up tonight or she'd drag him there herself. Jose and Panchito took turns hugging Mickey over and over until Donald told them to knock it off – if only so he could get a hug in. Daisy acted as if nothing had ever happened, though it was difficult to know what she ever really thought at any given moment. Mickey smiled at all them, hiding his self-loathing under constant cheer. The crew tried to live life as normally as they could, which included setting up the dining table for breakfast this morning, rationing out their food supplies, and listening to Horace and Clarabelle arguing.

“One of these days, I'll just leave!” Clarabelle yelled, jabbing her finger hard into Horace's chest. “Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you, for me to just up and vanish!”

“Pass the butter,” said Donald.

“What I'd like you to do is shut your big mouth and mind your own business!” Horace barked right back, wagging a fork in his wife's face. “If I wanna have seconds, then I'll have seconds, and nobody's gunna stop me!”

“Do we have any more milk?” Jose asked.

“Oh, so I'm the bad guy, for wanting to make sure we all don't starve to death! I see how it is! You're saying you're better off without me? Then wish granted, buster!” Clarabelle slammed her hand to her heart, making a loud declaration. “I'm leaving, for good, that's it, done, final!” She then marched toward the doorway and slammed it close. A few seconds passed, with Daisy cutting up a piece of meat to feed her snake and Panchito adjusting his guitar strings, before Clarabelle reopened the door. “Isn't anyone gunna stop me?”

“Maybe when you actually go through with it,” Daisy said, stroking her pet with one finger. “As it stands, you've threatened to leave this ship at least six times since I've been here.”

“Eight since me,” Donald added.

“Twelve or thirteen, I stopped counting.” Mickey shrugged one shoulder, unsure. “Look, why don't you sit back down for breakfast? Daisy was planned to tell us about how to get to the next piece of the map, and we could use all the help we can get. We need you too, Clarabelle!” Part of his “trying to change” mindset was upping the compliments and trying to find the good in everyone, no matter how difficult a search it was. Maybe if he stayed with the positives all the time, he'd never feel that dangerous negative. “No one can kick like you, Clarabelle!”

Clarabelle considered this, hands on the door. “Well, that's certainly true.” Pride partially healed, she shot a glance at her husband. “I'll sit back down if Horace apologizes.”

Horace narrowed his eyes, and then sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Fine. I apologize...”

“Thank you, dear.”

“... For marrying such a worrywart who gives me grief over a second helping.”

Another thing that the entire crew was used to was lifting all their plates up at once so that when Clarabelle kicked her husband in the face and send him flying onto the table, none of the food would be ruined. Clarabelle slammed the door again, storming off, and the meal was resumed, with the crew eating on their laps.

“So the next piece of the map.” Goofy gently pushed Horace's half-conscious head aside so he could grab a napkin. “If'fn I remember correctly, you said it's stuck in a trapped Imp's jar in the town of Muhtal. I think we all know the big question I gotta ask.”

Donald raised his hand. “Yeah! What in the world is an 'imp'?”

“...Gosh, I was gunna ask if we had anymore potatoes, but that's pretty important too!”

Daisy helped her slithering friend back into her hair. “I'm not revealing a single word without Minnie here. She needs to catch up with us, or she might wind up falling behind. At least we can guarantee Clarabelle coming back.”

Mickey held the lamp in his hands, sighing and shaking his head. “Aw, Daisy, I can't just force her out! It's not right! She'll...she'll come out when she wants to. After what she saw, I wouldn't blame her for being stuck there for ages.” He considered it a fair price to pay for the horrors she saw and suffered. If she wouldn't show up for the rest of the journey, what could he do about it?

There was an uneasy but agreeable murmuring that came from the other men, but Daisy huffed. “And how she's supposed to get over it by avoiding it?” She looked down at the map, and then clicked her tongue to the inside of her cheek, scheming. “Hmmm...perhaps it's just as well. Maybe she doesn't need to be out all the time. I was with her in that shared bedroom back in Rumansy, and it was so hard to get any sleep when she was there. I don't know what it is that genies eat, if anything, but they sure do have flatulence, and she stunk up the entire -”

In a predictable pink puff of smoke, Minnie was suddenly in Daisy's face, both her hands firmly grasping the bird's beak to keep it shut, her entire face red with humiliation. “You. Are. The. Worst.” Daisy merely wiggled her fingers for an amused hello.

Mickey cleared his throat, pleased to see Minnie despite the number of awkward circumstances. “Um... g-good morning, Minnie.”

Minnie turned her head to see him, and for a split second saw the bloody monster instead. With a blink, it was gone, but the fear in her eyes was plain and painful for everyone to see. Part of her wanted to retreat back into the lamp, but she knew the second she did, Daisy would just find more embarrassing lies to spread. With an uncomfortable swallow, she pulled away from Daisy and found her usual seat next to Mickey. “Good morning, Master,” she mumbled, sliding into her chair, keeping her eyes to the ground. Mickey felt stabbed, but he couldn't blame her for the change in attitude, and he lost his appetite.

“Now we can get started!” Daisy began, regardless of the cramped up tension in the room. “Long ago, the city of Muhtal was dirt poor and hopeless. No one had any money to buy food, clothing, shelter, and things weren't going to get better anytime soon. In a moment of desperation, the city's founder began researching into dark magic and stories of legend. It would take a miracle to save the city, and the closest thing to a miracle in this world... is a genie!” She dramatically pointed at Minnie, who blinked rapidly in response. “But genies don't exactly grow on trees, and there was no time to search the globe to find out! So the founder decided if he couldn't search for a genie, he'd just make one himself! Dark books, dark magic, poof, and he created a genie that was not a genie – an Imp!”

Donald was already confused. “A genie that wasn't a genie? What sense does that make? You either are one or you're not!”

“Not quite.” Daisy wagged a finger at the interruption, “See, the founder messed up. How or why, we have no idea, but what he wound up creating was a magical creature that wasn't bound to any rules as genies are. That means the Imp could repeat the same wish, but much worse, it meant it wasn't bound to any master and could do whatever it pleased with it's magic. Now, who wants to guess if the Imp was a good guy or a bad one?”

“I bet six silver coins on bad!” Panchito offered, with Jose chiming in after, “I'll take the same bet, on good! Please continue, senorita!”

“And the answer is...” Daisy paused, kept pausing, continued pausing, until Goofy began to tap the table with his fork and spook to imitate a drum roll. “...Bad! Of course it was bad, absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Jose congratulated Panchito on his win, and Panchito declined the money, saying Jose's friendship was the ultimate treasure, and Daisy was sure to cut off that nonsense right at the root. “It terrorized the town, saying it would conquer the whole world in an attempt to find the perfect partner to play with. It cared for nothing and no one except for its own pleasure, treating people like toys.”

Horace, finally coming out of his injury-induced coma, muttered, “Sounds like the two of you would get along.” Truthfully, Mickey had been tempted to say the same thing, but was doing his best to stay positive.

Daisy pushed Horace off the table with a loud “OOF” and “OW!” before resuming. “But all hope was not lost! With the last of his knowledge, the founder created a jar that would trap the Imp for all eternity! Using his wits, he tricked the Imp inside, but in doing so, also stuck the map piece we need between the lid and the jar.”

Mickey cupped his chin with his hand, going over this last piece of information. “So what we need to do is find a way to get the map piece out without also letting the Imp out. And that's if the townsfolk will let us near something so dangerous!” Minnie opened her mouth, ready to offer some advice of her own, but found herself flinching and closing her mouth. She didn't know why she was hesitating, the crew would listen to her. They weren't like her other masters, who dismissed and ignored her. But every time she looked at Mickey, that sight would return, with the smell of blood and the pain on her fingers. She had healed physically quickly, as was the nature of genies, but her heart was scarred deeply.

She knew two Mickeys now, and could not reconcile the fact they were the same person.

“Maybe we can pay 'em to let us try!” Goofy offered. “If they're so poor, we can use our money to get the chance we need. We should be in the city soon, why don't we all split up and get ready?”

“Another adventure awaits us!” Panchito declared, and again Jose joined him, “Victory is in our sights!” They danced off together, swinging each other around. Goofy began to clean up, tip-toeing around Horace on the floor. Donald got up to help lower the anchor, and Daisy's job was to adjust the sails. This left Mickey and Minnie alone, and neither one dared to get up first and make conversation.

They sat there in their chairs, feet dangling above the floor, hands tightly together. Even though they were only a few inches apart, the emotional distance between them felt as wide as the oceans. Every time one tried to look up and accidentally catch the other's eye, they'd quickly go back down. Both of them wanted to ask, to answer, to apologize, to explain, to confirm, but nothing was said. Fear held them both down with tight iron chains, unable to move forward no matter how much they wanted to.

They only got up when it was time to leave the ship, but each step was heavy and slow, burdened with heartache. They could no longer trust each other, and worst of all, they could no longer trust themselves.

~*~

“I thought you said this was a dirt poor town,” Donald said under his breath, in disbelief of the sight before him.

“I said long ago it was dirt poor. I never said anything about how it was today.” But even Daisy seemed a little surprised, if only because seeing it in person made a big difference.

Once more, Pluto was left behind to guard the ship, and Clarabelle had yet to return from her tantrum, so the group was forced to carry on without her. They weren't particularly worried, as the terrain consisted of large sandy hills and rock mountains with the occasional still boulder – there were no wild animals to be seen or roaming gangs of thieves. Of course there was also the fact that Clarabelle was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, as Horace had said repeatedly on the walk over to the gigantic golden gates of the city.

“Can I ask you something?” Mickey said to Horace, trying not to let his curiosity override his “new” attitude. It was a little difficult, given what he was trying to question. “You and Clarabelle... well... I don't mean to be rude or anything but...you two are kinda constantly fighting, so I was sort of, you know, wondering-”

“I love that stupid woman with all my heart,” Horace answered, deciding to skip ahead if Mickey was going to take so long in getting to the actual inquiry. “Always have, always will. She's my only equal in this whole wide world!”

“What do you mean, equal?” Donald asked, and Minnie was grateful, as she wanted to ask that but still couldn't make herself speak. She walked several paces behind Mickey, much to his disappointment.

“Only Clarabelle can argue as good and long and hard as I can!” Horace said this proudly with a smug grin. “Everyone else would just give up, but she never lets me get away with anything! We keep each other in line, make sure we don't get too big for our britches. We've been that way since we first met.”

Mickey glanced upward, trying to recall what had been mentioned long ago. “You two were fighting under the same master, right?”

“Right!” Horace smacked his fists together. “See, we're from the far East, far as you can get without getting back around to West. Anyhow, I've always been great at fighting, but I knew I could get better under the right teaching, and that's when I enrolled myself in Master Hiro's Dojo. He's the greatest martial artist ever! But not everyone can handle his teachings. Lots of people wimped out on day one, but not me! I wanted to achieve my dream, and I couldn't give up on it!”

Goofy knew this story by heart at this point, but he was enjoying the looks of awe and wonder in the younger crew-members, so he helped it along. “And what was that dream, Horace?”

“To find something worth protecting,” Horace went on, assuming Goofy had merely forgotten. “What good was all this strength if I couldn't use it for a purpose? But I had no purpose. I figured maybe I'd find one under Master Hiro. And every day I learned more and got stronger, but I still didn't have a purpose. And one day, Clarabelle showed up, also wanting to learn under Master Hiro. I told her she should leave, because it wasn't a woman's place to learn martial arts.”

That got everyone staring, already picturing the scenario in their heads. Even Daisy was interested. “And just how hard did she kick you?”

“Right through three brick wall,” Horace sighed fondly. “That's when I knew she was the one for me.”

“That's adorable,” Mickey said, trying not to add, “And worrying.”

After a proud chuckle, Horace said, “Master Hiro took us both on as his pupils, and we became stronger than we ever thought possible. Clarabelle mastered the art of kicks, and I mastered the art of punches. But when it came time to switch the lessons around, so we could both become invincible, he disappeared on us. Clarabelle and I made a vow to search for him so he could continue our teachings... and, eventually, get his blessings on our marriage.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, his eyes to the sky and the white clouds that blessed those below with good weather. “Turns out, Clarabelle was looking for something similar – something to protect. Something to give reason for our abilities, and give us a reason to keep on fighting.”

“Did you both ever find that thing to protect?” Donald asked, starting to smile since he was getting an idea of the answer.

Horace grinned, a merry laugh behind his big teeth. “Each other!”

Mickey pondered if, perhaps, Master Hiro had left in order to make Clarabelle and Horace come to this conclusion on their own. Or maybe the idea of these two angry arguing crazies having ultimate power was too much for the old man. Either way, Mickey decided he couldn't judge too much. Horace and Clarabelle did appear to love each other – it was just different than the way his father and mother loved each other. It made a kind of sense – wasn't all love supposed to be unique? It was comforting, and he would've asked further, but they had arrived at the golden, glorious city which prompted Donald's fairly reasonable observation.

The entire city was covered in gold, including the big gates that were open to all visitors. Standing in the gateway, the crew could see statues of bizarre monsters on every corner, a different artist's interpretation of the Imp. Some had gigantic ears, others fangs as long as their arms, others had three tails. Men wore big-headed costumes of these monsters, standing with children while their parents drew their portrait. Camel rides were being offered near a fountain, and Imp-shaped confections were being sold for outrageous prices beneath a pair of palm trees. It was crawling with tourists from all over the world, “oohing” and “aahing” at murals depicting the Imp's fight with the city's founder. The crew gawked at the lavish rides and treats before a pleasant voice chimed their way. “Hello, everyone! And welcome to the most magical place on earth... Imp-ny World!”

An extremely skinny man with one eye was pushing a metal cart toward the befuddled pirates, brushing down his officer's uniform before addressing them again. “Let's see, that'll be tickets for...eight? How'd you like some season passes?” A name tag on his chest read “Pleakly”.

Mickey had about six different questions in his head at once, and needed a minute to decide which should go first – as long as he didn't get angry. “Hang on! I thought the name of this place was Muhtal!”

“That is correct, sir!” Pleakly replied cheerfully, digging out badges from his cart. “That is the official name of our location, but in recent years, we've decided to embrace our history and show off the most famous object for all miles around... The Imp Jar! And boy, it did a wonder for tourism! So we rebranded! Imp mascots, Imp toys, Imp hats, who wants an Imp-head caramel apple?”

Goofy raised his hand only for Horace to smack it down. “What's this about tickets?” Horace then asked, feeling dread.

“Can't get in without tickets!” Pleakly chirped. “After all, the Imp Jar is a valuable piece of history, so if you want to see it, you have to pay! That'll be... eight-thousand gold coins.”

Everyone slowly turned their heads towards Goofy. Money was normally no object to the Captain, but sheesh, that was a pretty large object! He gulped loudly, pulling up one of the satchels on his belt, trying to feel how much was inside. “Uh... Gwarsh. Why don't you all go on ahead while I find some kinda... payment plan, that don't involve sellin' the ship?”

As Goofy nervously began to doll out coin after coin, the rest of the gang picked up their brightly colored tickets and headed inside the blindingly golden city. The smell of fried food clogged their nostrils, and there was singing and dancing on every street, all for the sake of entertaining the tourists. Mickey turned around to address everyone. No anger, he told himself, he would not let himself be angry today or ever again. It was time to lead the way by being positive! “Okay, let's just find the Imp jar, grab the map piece, and head out! We have no time for distractions!”

“This is all ridiculous anyway,” Donald sneered, glaring at group of performers reenacting the Imp's last fight. “A whole park dedicated to some bozo with big ears, that costs an arm and a leg to get in? Whoever wants to visit this place must be out of their mind!”

Everyone collectively took a pause, somehow insulted, before Jose resumed things. “Pleakly gave me a map! Let's see here,” He unfolded it, and everyone gathered around to take a look. “It's past the Founder and Imp statue, take a right past the spinning wine cups, and then straight on towards Big Imp Junction. And hey, there's a musical here in fifteen minutes! This place has everything!”

“Onward!” Mickey declared, and everyone marched forward, not allowing the various temptations to sway them. This wasn't an easy task, with Daisy wanting to buy I HEART IMP-NY WORLD robes, Donald's hungry stomach itching for an Imp Pineapple Float, and Panchito constantly trying to join a dapper band of choir-men. But every time someone was ready to pull out some coins and delay the journey, Mickey tugged them along without a word, as did Minnie, often coming up behind someone and giving them a push. Horace kept glancing behind him, expecting Clarabelle to pop up anytime.

Eventually they made it to the miniature-castle-shaped structure and were forced to wait in line – if they fished out more gold, they could have gotten a faster passage, but they managed to keep their coins. After waiting an agonizing forty-five minutes and making sure no one cut in line, they finally found themselves in the presence of the Imp Jar.

The glittering town had given the crew the impression that the Jar itself would be fancy and debonair, but in reality, the decaying gray jar seemed like the sort of thing one would put unwanted cookies in. The writing on one side had faded away, leaving only a guess as to what it once said. It stood on a bright white pillar, with a group of people around it applauding its presence. For something so valuable and dangerous, Mickey noted, there didn't seem to be a lot of security. The only person in charge appeared to be an incredibly bored, chubby individual whose bright yellow sunglasses made it seem as if he had four eyes instead of two. He scratched his stomach that poked out of his regally blue robes, and a name-tag read “Jumba”. Given the short sleeves and long vest, Mickey assumed he was more of a businessman instead of an actual guard – but either way, the man wasn't pleased to be there.

“And here we are having the Imp Jar,” Jumba spoke, bored, not really paying any attention to any one person. “The one my great, great, great, great grandfather Walt is supposed to be having put Imp in. And before anyone is asking, no, his name was not Walt Imp-ny, that is stupid concept Pleakly is doing with his 'rebranding'.” He then muttered a few choice insults under his breath in a foreign tongue.

Mickey began to feel some pity for the man who was clearly not proud of the family legacy, but he was quickly distracted by Donald's shout. “Hey, there's the map piece!” There, now that Mickey could see clearly enough, was the faded map with two corners sticking out of the edge. The rest was underneath the lid.

Jumba blinked, thrown off his usual speech. “What? You are more interested in junk than Jar? It is probably just some trash my ancestor forgot to throw away. He got rid of everything else, even how to make Imp, except for Jar.” He blew hot, frustrated air out of his nostrils. “Such a waste! Could have performed so many experiments on how to make proper genie! Instead, I am thinking that maybe he threw it away to prove there never was Imp! How can any such thing exist? A failed genie, no such thing as genies!”

The crew did their best not to look at Minnie who was twiddling her thumbs. Mickey stepped forward, ready to negotiate. No anger here, no sir, he would be polite and positive and never negative! “Sir, I know this may be hard to believe and understand, but we really need that paper that's stuck in the jar! Is there any way you could let us try and get it out?”

Jumba glanced to the jar, and then shrugged dismissively. “Why not? What good is junk in jar? Take it, we will not be missing it.”

“OOOOOH NO NO NO!” Pleakly's agitated, shrill voice cut in, as he stormed into the building. “The Imp Jar is a priceless artifact, and we can't have anyone touching it! What if the lid came off, and that Imp returned to this world to wreak havoc? Educate yourself!” He finished by slapping a handmade brochure to Jumba's face.

Goofy sheepishly came up behind, now wearing only his boxers with little hearts on them. He answered the question they were going to ask. “Had, to, uh, sell all I got on hand. … Little chilly in here.”

“Is no Imp!” Jumba argued back, hands on his hips, using his taller size to try and intimidate Pleakly. “Is no scientific proof! Is just some fairy-tale ancestor told us to keep the town from going poorer! If you were to ask me, would rather be poor than keep up charade!”

“Just because you can't prove it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist!” Pleakly wouldn't back down, making the crowd more interested in the argument than the plain old jar. “I was chosen to help promote Imp-ny World, and that includes keeping the sacred Imp Jar safe! It's about time you accepted it!”

“I would much rather accept my fist in your face!”
“Jumba, do we have to have another meeting with HR?”

As the both wimpy and rowdy fight commenced, Mickey saw his chance. “Quick, let's grab it while they're distracted!”

“Leave it to us, amigo!” Panchito saluted, before he and Jose raced to the pillar, with Panchito slapping his hands on the top of the jar. “Friend Jose, you will pull on the map! I will keep the lid on!”

“A most brilliant idea, my clever companion!” Jose cheered, and then lightly began to tug on the map, bit by bit, going extremely slow as not to tear it. “Easy... easy... easy...” With years of people being afraid to touch the jar, this led to a lot of dust. Jose's beak twitched, then twitched again, and he began to rear his head back. “Ah... ah... ahhh...”

“Don't sneeze!” Mickey flailed his hands, losing any composure he had tried to hold in for the day. “If you sneeze, you could tear it!”

“Ahhh.... Ahhh....AHHHHHHH-”

The good news was, Panchito quickly clamped his hands down on Jose's beak to prevent any sneezing. “There! I have you, Jose, I'll always have you!” The bad news was, Panchito had inadvertently shoved the lid off while “saving” Jose. “...My bad. My very, very, very bad.”

Any hope that the Imp was merely mythical was mashed in moments, as horrendous black smog began to spill forth from the inside – smog that was very familiar to Mickey. Wasn't this the same smog that was around whenever the Phantom Prince's creatures were attacking? Was this somehow one more of his minions, like the Glooms were? Pleakly shrieked and held Jumba for protection, who was holding him right back for the same reason.

“Do you have any idea what you people have done?!” Pleakly yelled. “You've unleashed a monster with no rules, no limits, and no end to its power!”

“On the plus side,” Jumba gulped, “I am O-K with Walt Imp-ney now.”

The jar shook and rattled, spinning around in place as the smog came faster and faster, and a squealing, piercing laugh rattled the very room itself. On instinct, Mickey grabbed Minnie's hand to push her behind him, and she didn't fight it, pressing up to his back.

“AT LAST... AT LAST... AT LAAAST! I AM FREEEEEEE!”

Chapter Text

This had all the makings of one of Sultana Scheherazade's classic stories : a ragtag group of heroes and heroines, a piece of a map to a lost kingdom, and an evil entity unleashed after centuries of imprisonment. Except, Mickey thought, if this was one of mother's stories, the freed Imp would've looked...

… Taller.

After a few hacks and coughs, the once intimidating voice then squeaked, “Fi-na-lly!”, as the smog began to clear. “I'm free, I'm free, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop me!” This might've sounded threatening if it hadn't come from a creature that was even smaller than Minnie – though it was a guess, seeing as he was freely hovering in the air. “You'll never get me inside that smelly jar again!” None of the statues or costumes had gotten his appearance correct, save for the gigantic ears on the sides of his head. There were no fangs or blood-red eyes – thinning black hair poked out from a whimsically pointy blue and red hat, with his outfit the same colors as if he were some children's interpretation of a court jester. Had he not popped out of the jar, many could have easily assumed this was a child, especially with his one solid tooth sticking out at the top of his lip.

Just to be sure, Mickey glanced back at Pleakly and Jumba. “Um... this is the Imp?”

“I think we might need to do some re-rebranding,” Pleakly replied with clear disappointment, though he wasn't letting go of Jumba anytime soon.

“I am removing self from family tree, starting now.” Jumba dropped Pleakly like a sack of hot potatoes.

“Now then!” The Imp clapped his hands together, his beady eyes scanning the room. “I take it you've used all these years to finally get me a proper playmate?”

Horace began to back up. “Oooh, I don't like where this is going.”

Mickey looked up at the Imp, and decided this was the perfect time to put his new attitude on display. “Why, if you want to play, we'll all play with you!” he chirped pleasantly. Perhaps all this time had made the Imp rethink things, and all he wanted now was someone to understand him. No anger, no negativity, just positive thinking! “My name is Mickey, and these are all my friends!” He gestured to the crew, who nervously waved hello.

The Imp cupped his chin with his hand, making a long “hmmm”-ing noise. “You think you guys are worthy enough to be my playmates? I won't just have anyone, after all. I need people who can keep up with me and who will have fun with me. When I was created, absolutely no one liked my idea of fun. They never wanted to play any of my games.”

“I love a good game!” Mickey replied with sheer enthusiasm. “Come on, what do you want to play?”

The Imp surveyed Mickey up and down, and then bounced in the air until he was right in front of Mickey's nose. “All right! I thought of a really fun one while I was stuck in that stupid jar... Lions or Tigers?”

Mickey blinked, as he'd never heard of any game called that. “Uh, let's see...Tigers?” He did like those cool-looking stripes.

“Tigers it is!” That's when the Imp snapped his fingers, and in a familiar-looking puff of pink smoke, four feral tigers suddenly materialized on the floor, snarling and starving. “Now it's their turn! Okay boys, meat or veggies?” The tigers roared unanimously before leaping off in different directions, trying to turn the audience into prey. The crowd screamed in terror, running for their lives and knocking over various expensive displays.

Goofy only had his trousers and his quick thinking. “Daisy, get the people outside! Horace, Panchito, Jose, Donald, round up the kitty-cats!” Hitching his boxers up, he ran for the closest tiger that was trying to corner some frightened children, jumped on its back, and began to wrestle it away, which would have looked brave and heroic if he wasn't as thin as a pipe cleaner. The others ran to follow his commands, with Panchito's guns out and ready, Jose lighting up the tip of his umbrella, Horace pumping his fists and Donald summoning lightning through his fingers.

Minnie kept her back to Mickey, trying to find where the lid had dropped, while Mickey himself was stunned. “What are you doing?!” he demanded of the Imp, anger beginning to seep through.

“I'm playing, of course,” the Imp said with a shrug. “Oh, don't tell me you're one of those boring types that cares whether people live or die. That's not fun at all!”

“You can't go around hurting people just for your entertainment!” Mickey shouted, feeling heat in his face, and knowing it was a sign of things to come. He could feel his entire body clenching up in an attempt to stop his anger, even though a tiny part of him kept trying to say it was justifiable. Minnie continuously cleared her throat, trying to jar in some common sense without saying a word, but she went ignored. “You're not that heartless!”

“Sure I am.” the Imp willed himself up a few white balls to juggle, and Mickey was not entirely sure they weren't small skulls.

“I know you might think you are,” Mickey tried a different angle, remembering how he had saved Donald and Minnie in his own way, “But no matter what anyone has told you, it's not true. You can change, if you want to! Deep down, everyone just wants someone to be with, and you don't have to be cruel to find them. If you look inside yourself, you'll see, you're not heartless!”

“Buddy, I'm literally heartless.” The Imp stuck his hands within his chest, opening it like a cabinet door to reveal only a dark, swirling vortex inside. “No heart, no soul. If I may say, it's one of the few things my creator got right about me, even if it was a big mistake.” He then slammed the “door” shut, dusting his hands off. “Speaking of big mistakes, you're not seriously thinking you can harm me with that little knife you've got there, do you?”

Actually Mickey hadn't brought his sword out of its scabbard yet – he had been reluctant to touch it ever since he fought the Glooms. He was still reluctant to use it now, and tried not to look at it, tried not to think about the anger that was bubbling underneath his voice. “We don't have to fight, we... we can work this out! We can find a fun game for you that doesn't involve anyone in danger! Just give me a chance!”

The Imp rolled his head around his shoulders, beginning to giggle. “Okaaay... what are the chances you won't die if you were covered in lava?”

“What?” But after the Imp snapped his fingers, Mickey understood what the Imp meant, as a splatter of hot liquid fell from the ceiling and melted the stone floor in front of him. Looking up revealed that all the fancy chandeliers were now hosting miniature volcanoes instead of candles, each one beginning to explode and erupt. He had only seconds to run before he was under a waterfall of lava, ducking and rolling and trying to find a safe spot to hide. Minnie split in the opposite direction, scrambling to stay alive and gather both the jar and lid.

The Imp cackled, clapping his hands merrily. “Oh, you're all much better sports this time around! And I've got so many new ideas for games, so my fun can last for all eternity!” He snapped and pointed in all directions, continuing to give the crew more obstacles, such as the stained glass windows shattering, the carpets turning into marbles, and the potted plants now becoming flesh-eating Venus fly traps. Watching the men struggle just to stay alive was pleasure beyond measure, and he became so distracted by it that he almost didn't notice Minnie coming up behind him with the jar and lid.

Keyword here being “almost”. The Imp spotted her shadow on the floor, and whirled around fast enough to knock the lid out of her hand. “Ah-ah-ah! Nice try there, missy, but I'm never going back in there again!” He lifted his hand to cast another spell, but stopped, as if noticing something. His eyes flew up and down, and then, amused, he said, “You're one of the originals! An actual genie!”

For the first time all day, Minnie found her voice, and she swallowed hard, holding the old jar to her chest. “How did you know?”

“How do you think?” The Imp laughed, and then floated upside-down, tsking. “I kind of pity you, being bound by all those silly rules, plus the whole heart and soul thing... Of course, that couldn't be helped, given how you were created.” He then cocked his head, “Do you remember how you were created?” The giddiness in his tone indicated he already knew the answer.

Minnie went silent for a moment, hearing nothing but her own heartbeat. There were flashes in her mind, of a time long ago that she struggled to remember. But the pain, oh the pain, she remembered that all too well – she didn't want to remember. There was something dreadful and horrible in his question and implications. She only knew of her time with her masters and their cruelty, not her origins. But – but surely there had to be a beginning to it, so why couldn't she remember it? Was she created in the same way the Imp was?

The Imp – this mischievous, heartless creature that was enjoying her suffering – she would only be satisfying him by giving into her fears now. There was a time to question her life, but it sure wasn't now. Not when her friends were in danger, with Mickey hiding under a wooden desk, his last refuge before the lava burned it away – who still wouldn't wish for anything, lest it cause her pain. “You... you...” Her heart beat faster, wilder, and she wouldn't allow herself to be a useless damsel in distress. “You're not even a real Imp, I bet!”

The Imp stopped where he was, his crooked smile now disjointed, eyes bulging. “Excuse me?”

“I said, you're not even a real Imp.” It was a risky plan, but if it worked out... “You think you're so great and powerful, but you got trapped in some jar?” She then let out a fake laugh, turning her head away. “At least I can go in and out of my lamp whenever I want. You know what? I bet you've just been hiding away all this time because you know you're a big phony.”

“PHONY?!” The Imp screamed, now right-side-up, veins popping up all over his small face. “I am the all-powerful Imp! I have no rules, I have no limits! I can do anything I want! There's nothing I can't do! Just watch!” With a snap of his fingers, the brick walls suddenly flowed away like pushed curtains, revealing the outside world. “See?”

Minnie pretended to inspect her nails. “Is that all? I can do that. I bet you can't send all the people in the village back to their homes.”

“Of course I can do that!” The Imp hopped up and down in the air, his tantrum getting worse. “Just watch!” Another snap, and each of the frightened people vanished, now safe and confused back in their houses all over the world. “See? See? Look how amazing I am!”

“Child's play.” Minnie yawned, including boredom in her act. “I've sent send hundreds of people anywhere for my masters before. I bet you can't turn those man-eating tigers into harmless kittens.”

“Yes I can!” And again, with a snap of his fingers, the Imp displayed his magic – the tigers that had been about to gnaw on Donald's backside were now fluffy orange kittens batting at his loose feathers. “Without even breaking a sweat!”

“Oh, dear, is that really all you can do?” Minnie scoffed, making sure to pick up the lid when the Imp wasn't looking. “My last Master had me transforms animals all the time, I could do it in my sleep.” She then sighed wistfully, “I don't know, maybe if you could transform yourself, I'd think you were something special...”

“I can transform myself into anything and anyone!” To prove it, the Imp began to shapeshift several times – a towering Minotaur, a giant hissing spider, and a multi-headed hydra before poofing back to his original shape. “There is nothing I can't do!”

This was the point of the plan that any outsider who could hear Minnie knew what would happen – she'd ask him to transform into something very small, then capture him, and the day would be saved. Unfortunately, Mickey was far enough away that he didn't hear the plan at all, and all he saw was the Imp displaying his phenomenal powers to the girl he cared for. All his stored anger slammed into his body with the force of a typhoon, mixed in with what had caused it the last time – fear of losing Minnie.

Holding back his anger hadn't controlled it at all, only stored it away for a worse explosion. But one never realizes how truly furious they are when they are in its deepest depths – all he could think of was making sure the Imp didn't hurt Minnie, if he so much as thought of laying a hand on her, not after all she'd been through, not after what Mickey put her through, and he was up and his scimitar was out and he was running and - “DON'T YOU TOUCH HER!”

Both enchanted creatures stopped in place, startled as Mickey ran forward, ready to plunge his sword right into the Imp, but of course the Imp knew well enough to poof himself away from the danger – which left Mickey mere seconds to stop before he'd plunge his sword right into Minnie. He yelped, and his feet skidded, and he fell forward, landing on top of her feet. He scrambled to get to his knees, shaking at how easily he'd fallen into rage again. “Minnie – Minnie I'm – I'm so sorry-” he stammered, and Minnie had that look again – that look of fear, of him.

“That was a close one!” The Imp reappeared atop the melting chandelier, wiping a bead of panicked sweat from his brow. “If I had fallen for that, I never would have forgiven myself.” The rest of the crew began to gather together, Donald trying to see if Daisy was all right, Panchito pulling Jose away from a dangerous spill of lava, and nearly-naked Goofy with completely-clothed Horace having pummeled and punished the plants.

“Fallen?” Mickey stared at the Imp, and then jumped up on his feet, guilt and horror weighing on his chest. “Minnie? I thought... I didn't... I'm sorry, I thought he was-”

“I was so close, Master!” Minnie suddenly shrieked at him, perhaps the first time she'd raised her voice at him in ages, - if ever? - even if the fear in her eyes wasn't gone. She was still afraid of him on some level, but fear was now just in the way. “I almost had him! Why didn't you just trust me?”

“I'm – I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!”

“Saying sorry isn't good enough!” For this, for that, for all he'd done, Minnie had taken her voice back and couldn't stop using it, shoving the jar into Mickey's hands. She had so many masters apologize after breaking their promises to her, and what good had those futile words been? What good was it when Mickey had nearly murdered Grimwold? “You have to do better! You have to be better! You can't just ignore everything around you and hope it turns out okay! If you want to help us, help your parents, help me, then work with me! Talk to me! Listen to me! If you really want to wish me to be a real person, then start treating me like one!”

Mickey's mouth hung open like a gaping fish. As a prince, and son to someone so beloved and famous, he'd been treated almost like a god his entire life. Save for once murderous attempt on his life, no one had ever actually yelled at him before. He wasn't quite sure what to think. He almost kind of liked it. He wished he had a moment to process it.

Not that the Imp was going to give him one. “You remember I'm still here, right?” He didn't like being ignored.

“YOU SHUT UP!” Minnie snapped, turning to the Imp, her own anger loud instead of violent like Mickey's. “Do you have any idea what it's like to be treated as if you're a child when you're actually hundreds of years old? If I don't know something, it's because people haven't told me, not because I don't understand it! So how am I supposed to help anyone if they don't tell me what's wrong?” She hadn't even known she'd been bottling so much inside and had no idea how to make it stop. “I have a heart, and a mind, and a voice, and I'm not going to let anyone stop me from using them, including myself! So buzz off, you wretched creature!”

The Imp clicked his tongue to his big tooth. “So, you don't care for me? That's fine... How about if you find the other me's more appealing?” With a much louder snap of his fingers, the ground began to rumble, and there were several destructive roars echoing outside of the building. Through the open “window” the Imp had created, the crew could now see that the Imp had brought all of the statues to life, each one mindless and violent, ripping up poles from the ground, smashing their fists through walls, and chasing after the citizens of Muhtal.

Minnie's fiery spirit was extinguished. “I... probably shouldn't have yelled at the all-powerful chaotic monster.”

“Probably not,” Mickey agreed. But there was no time for any debate, as one of the bellowing creatures with especially big teeth was heading right for them. Mickey grabbed Minnie by the wrist and began to run outside with the rest of the crew in tow, although he had no idea where any safe space would be. With every turn of his head, he could see another part of the amusement park being twisted by the Imp's machinations – the twirling cups were now spinning out of control, rolling on the ground like deadly tops. The caramel for the sweets was now overflowing and threatening to drown anyone who came close. The dapper choir-men were now being trapped in colorful prison bars from their own uniform. Goofy and the crew struggled to save as many of the park employees as they could, but it was becoming obvious they'd need just as much help saving themselves.

It wasn't long before Daisy became covered in caramel, with Donald unable to reach her as he'd been trapped by the bizarre rainbow prison. Jose and Panchito tried to rescue an employee that was stuck up in a coconut tree, which became difficult when the coconuts became carnivorous and hungry for fingers. Goofy grabbed a mouse in each hand, trying to carry them under his arms before the former statues wanted to take their current lives, and Horace was in for a ride trying to stop the cup rides.

The Imp watched all of this unfold, and then yawned, one hand over his mouth. “And here I thought you guys might be different... What a let-down! I'm going to keep searching for a proper playmate. Toodles!” He hopped along in the air, leaving the park behind, a whistle on his lips.

Horace managed to punch one of the spinning cups fast enough to chip it, but not enough to entirely stop it. “Aw, I'm only half as strong without Clarabelle here!” He groaned, shaking his sore fist. “Where is that woman?!”

~*~

Of course, Clarabelle had no idea what kind of trouble her makeshift family had gotten into. Had she known, she would have easily gotten over her tantrum and rushed into battle. But as it was, she was grumbling and pouting out in the desert terrain, still bitter about how she'd been treated. “They don't appreciate me, that's the problem,” she said to no one, walking on the sand, arms crossed. “Horace, he's never appreciated me, not one bit! And after all we've been through together, he says those things to me! Why, he's the one who fought so hard to make me love him when I was ga-ga for Goofy. What am I now, used goods?” The more she ranted, the more she raved, the worse she felt, like a cycle of sourness. If she could use find a proper way to vent it out, maybe she could go back to the ship, but if she was alone, she couldn't yell at anyone, nor give them a good beat-down.

She got her wish in the worst way. The Imp hovered through the sky, pondering where to go for his next round of fun when he spotted the lone woman muttering to herself in the sand. He smirked, seeing her more as a sitting duck than a walking cow. “Poor dear, she's missed all the good times at Imp-ny world... why don't I give her a rockin' good time?” A snap, and the boulders high atop the hills began to wiggle, then roll, then fly right off the cliff sides, aiming right at Clarabelle. The Imp sat atop a dusty dead tree, munching on popcorn he wished himself up.

But she heard the noise, and when she looked up and saw a very unusual landslide, she wasn't afraid at all. “Finally!” She cheered out loud, knocking her fists together. “Maybe someone's looking out for me after all!” She took three steps back, and just as the first boulder was about to smash her into smithereens, she lashed out her leg, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. The Imp stopped mid-chew, a few kernels falling out of his mouth. Clarabelle let out a wild laugh, and then twisted her hips, launching another hard kick at the next rock, this one splitting into smaller pieces. She then charged forward, grabbing the next obstacle and heaving herself up in the air, kicking up hard, then flipping over onto the next rock, each move leading into another – she'd stand on her hands and launch attack after attack with her feet, she'd backflip and strike a powerful blow as she landed, sweat dripping from her body, her long ponytail fluttering behind her like a majestic cape. All the while she smiled, smiled, smiled, a pretty smile for a woman full of confidence.

It's a good thing that the Imp technically didn't need to breathe because he surely would've choked by now. Though he'd only been free for a short time, both during his birth and here in the present, he'd never seen anyone with such fantastic power, and such fantastic beauty. When did they start making women like this?! That serene smile, the one he'd made – she was actually enjoying what he'd done! Had he found what he desired since his creation – had he finally found his perfect playmate? Oh, no, no, she was much more than that!

Clarabelle bounced from one heel to the other, back and forth, her anger now completely gone. “Ooooh, I feel so much better! Why, I bet I could go another few rounds! C'mooon, c'mooon, bring it on! Heeheeheehee~!” A smaller boulder came rolling down, and she easily launched it back up into the air with one kick, her cowbell clattering against her chest.

“That... was... AMAZING!”

Clarabelle stopped her victory dance, having not expected company. When she turned around, the Imp was hovering below her, his eyes shining, hands clasped together. “You're the most perfect woman who has ever existed! You have no idea how long I've waited for someone like you to appear! It can only be you!”

She blinked a few times, eyebrow raised. What was this little boy doing out here all by his lonesome? Sure, he was floating, but after all the adventures and weirdness she'd seen as part of Goofy's crew, this was barely a blip on the radar. “Aw, honey, you shouldn't be out here!” she kindly chided, lightly patting him on his head. “Why don't we find your mommy and daddy and get you-”

BONK!

Clarabelle was a powerful warrior, this is true, but when it came to brains, she tended to come last. For example, not realizing that all that comes up tends to come down. This resulted in the rock she kicked up now landing hard on her head, knocking her out instantly, her body flopping onto the sand, her tongue lolled out ridiculously. There was definitely going to be a bump on her noggin.

The Imp looked down at the unconscious cow, and he grinned maliciously, rubbing his small hands together. “Who needs a perfect playmate... when I can have the perfect bride?”

Chapter Text

It had been five years ago – Horace would argue four, but she knew it was five – when Goofy had unknowingly rejected Clarabelle's affections. On a moonlit night full of stars and a quiet wind, she had mustered up all her courage and approached Goofy as he laid out a map on the magical steering wheel of their flying ship. After a nervous gulp, she told him she loved him, had always loved him, and would always love him, truly and sincerely and deeply. Goofy had cocked his head a smidgen, smiled in his usual charming way, and replied that he loved her too...

… And he loved Horace and Panchito and Jose and the ship and the moon and he went on about all the things he loved, oblivious to the heartbreak showing on Clarabelle's face. So when she burst into tears and ran away howling like an injured wolf, Goofy could only blink in confusion. He decided he'd ask Horace about it later, since, in his frank opinion, Horace knew and understood Clarabelle better than anyone else. They would make a good couple, he mused to himself, not knowing that Horace had seen the embarrassing exchange.

Horace found Clarabelle in her room, sobbing up a storm, and in turn she expected him to mock her for thinking Goofy would ever notice her feelings. Instead, Horace sat next to her, hugging his knees, letting Clarabelle cry and cry and cry until he was sure his voice would be heard.

“It's his loss,” he finally said, not looking at her.

Five years ago Horace had told her this, but she could still remember it as if it had been yesterday, even as she was waking up today with a bump on her head. Clarabelle was slow to sit up, remembering that night when Horace put his arm around her, letting her cry into his chest without complaint. He was, in the end, a good man, and a good husband, and she missed him. She missed the entire crew – Donald who was coming out of his shell, the ever-evolving young prince Mickey, the oddly adorable Minnie, the crazy singing birds, the ever cheerful captain, and Daisy... Uh... she missed Daisy's... ummm...

Well, she'd think of something nice to say about her later. Clarabelle shook her head, adjusting the veil from her face, and decided to head back to the ship so she could apologize to Horace, and then...

… Veil?

Clarabelle blinked once, then twice, then three times, as she suddenly remembered what had happened – that out of nowhere avalanche of rocks, then the floating child, then BONK- and it occurred to her not only was she not still in the desert, or in her room, or even on the ship, this was definitely not what she had been wearing when she had been knocked out. Her martial arts outfit and rags had been replaced with an alluring purple dress that showed off way more of her figure than she was comfortable with. A gold chain fit snugly around her hips, her sandals were replaced with glass slippers, and even her long black hair, which was usually tightly bound in a ponytail, was now flowing freely over her shoulders. The only original things that remained were her cowbell and her wedding ring.

“All right,” she said to herself out loud. “I'm going to go back to sleep and then I'll wake up.” She then flopped backwards onto the bed and tried to will herself “awake”. That's when she noticed the rather large room she was in – she was lying atop three fluffy mattresses that were piled with decadent pillows and surrounded by lavish curtains. It was so wildly different from her lazy, messy quarters on the ship that she bolted off the bed in fright, and went smack into a long vanity mirror that didn't break. That's when she saw how she actually looked in a room full of gold and jewels and dresses – she looked like a bride, or perhaps a Sultana, right out of one of Scheherazade's stories! With the ever dawning realization that this was, in fact, all real, she decided there was really only one course of action she could take – screaming like a banshee.

This naturally alerted the person behind all the changes, and the far too large front door slammed open, revealing the very pleased Imp. “Ah, so my sleeping beauty has woken!”

Clarabelle whirled around, instantly recognizing the floating child from the desert, and very quickly cluing in that perhaps this wasn't a child at all. “W-w-what's going on?!” she stammered, her arms rapidly pointing everywhere at all the nice things she didn't want and the clothes she didn't care for. “Where am I – what am I - what is all this?!”

“These are all my gifts for my beautiful new bride, of course!” the Imp replied, assuming her shock was one of pleasure instead of horror. “Anything you desire, anything you wish, it's all in the palm of my hand!”

“Buh... Bride?” Clarabelle repeated slowly, glancing at her reflection. “... Oooh boy. I'm not gunna hear the end of this one for a long time.” After a steady gulp and a very nervous chuckle, she began to push her hair behind her shoulders and try to wrap it up as per her usual style. “Uh-huh... Um, listen, this is all verrry flattering...” It wasn't, it wasn't flattering at all, and Clarabelle was looking for a window to jump out of and worryingly noted that none existed, “But we... don't even know each other!”

“Then allow me the honor of introducing myself first!” The Imp somersaulted in the air, not showing any signs he could see Clarabelle's panic, or perhaps not acknowledge it was panic at all. “I am the all-amazing, all-powerful, all-mighty, all-in-one Imp!” He then proudly sauntered in front of her, grinning. “I know, not what you were expecting at all, right?”

“...Yes.” This tiny, scrawny, annoying gnat of a creature was not what Clarabelle was expecting the deadly uncontrollable Imp to look like. “Weren't you trapped in some kind of jar?”

“Indeed I was, until a handful of fools let me out!” The Imp laughed, and Clarabelle had a fair guess who those fools were.

One day without her, and they had unleashed an evil being into the world. She mentally resolved to never let those idiots do anything without her again, and then grew concerned what had happened to her beloved idiots. “What happened to them? Where are they now?”

The Imp waved a hand, sighing. “I had high hopes that they could entertain me, but they were such a disappointment! Whining about people getting hurt, and telling me I could change, and 'help, I think I'm bleeding internally', blah blah blah. I left them back at that ridiculous amusement park with some of my best tricks. They're probably still fighting for their lives, if not dead already.”

Clarabelle, on sheer instinct, suddenly brought up her knee and locked her arms into combat position. The idea of her friends being dead – of Horace dead – had her almost start a battle she couldn't possibly win, with sense kicking in at the last second. “Probably still fighting”. That meant the Imp hadn't stuck around to see who lived, and her crew would always fight to the end. They would not give up, and they would not die so easily. Horace wasn't allowed to die if she wasn't at his side. He knew better than that.

“But then!” The Imp continued his story, utterly ignoring Clarabelle's attack-ready position for the moment, “Just as I had begun my search for the perfect playmate, that is when I found you, as if the gods themselves had sent you from the heavens!” That's when he finally seemed to notice her stance, and raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

Clarabelle, still with her knee up and arms out and looking fairly silly at this point, was losing her balance. “Uhhh... I'm...” She couldn't have been too far from the town, or so she hoped, and Daisy with her All-Seeing-Eye would be able to find her. They'd come and rescue her and defeat the Imp – but if this Imp really was as powerful and limitless as the legends told, he could vanish whenever he wanted, and then they'd have to chase him all over the world and abandon Mickey's parents. Clarabelle had to keep the Imp here, which meant stalling, which meant... Oh, ewww!

She broke into a fake, hysteric giggle, stomping her foot down and then twirling around, keeping up her schoolgirl laughter. “Oooh, me, oooh, my, the one and only famous Imp, and he chooses me? I must be the luckiest gal in the whole wide world!” Clarabelle had no idea how long she could keep up this act, and begged to any deities listening that it wouldn't be for too long.

The Imp's narcissistic nature was easily manipulated. “Then we must both be the luckiest beings on the planet to have found each other! There is no one else worthy enough to be my equal!” He then took her hand and kissed her knuckles, with Clarabelle trying not to kick him into the sky. “What is the name of my beautiful betrothed?”

“C-Clarabelle,” she replied with another round of false laughter, trying to understand why the Imp wasn't bothered by her wedding ring – unless – unless he was both so stupid and so selfish enough to think it was for him. “Ha ha ha... I really don't believe this...” For so, so many reasons.

“Clarabelle!” the Imp sang out, spinning in the air, and then took a comfortable seat on Clarabelle's shoulder. “Yes, Clarabelle, a pretty name for my pretty one! Tell me, my lovely, what is that I can do for you, as we start our happy life together forever? Remember, there is nothing I can't do!”

He couldn't make her skin stop crawling, that was for sure. “Let's see, um... how about a tour of this place? I'm sure someone as amazing as you made an impressive palace.” She headed for the door, wondering if she'd ever find her actual clothes again. This skimpy thing was terrible for combat!

“Of course, of course!” The Imp snapped his fingers, and in the alabaster white hallway, there were suddenly an infinite amount of doors to choose from. “Anything for my perfect playmate! You're the only one who has ever appreciated what I've done, and so, you shall get everything I can do!”

Clarabelle reached for the nearest doorknob, expecting to find more jewels and other worthless trinkets she really didn't care much for. Why hold onto a ruby when you could sell it for a great meal? “I appreciated what you did? What's that supposed to-” “mean” was the next word she had planned, if she hadn't opened the door and saw a fire-breathing manticore ready to pounce on her. With a high-pitched shriek, Clarabelle slammed the door shut and placed her back against it, wondering if her heart would ever get out of her throat. “WHAT IN TARNATION WAS THAT?!”

The Imp now raised both eyebrows, puzzled by her scream. “Was that not to your liking, my love? Perhaps it was too small, I did want to go easy on you as we began.”

The final horse made it across the finish line in Clarabelle's mind. “... The rocks ... that was you.” In other words, his idea of fun was putting people in mortal danger, and because Clarabelle had technically enjoyed herself once, that made her a target. This time her attempted giggle was far dryer and slower, as she now knew the deadly potential behind each and every single door in this endless hallway. If this was one of Scheherazade's stories, why couldn't the lady have picked someone else to be the protagonist of this chapter?! “Oh, boy... I can't wait to see what else you have planned...”

The Imp clapped, easily appeased again. “Don't you worry, my precious one, the next one will be bigger, badder, and venomous!”

~*~

“Now, I know I haven't been on too many of these adventures,” Donald announced to all who were listening, even though he knew they could all see what he was seeing. “But I'm pretty sure I know where the Imp is.” Turns out that one part of his emerging personality was bitter sarcasm. Or maybe he spent too much time around Horace.

Proving true to Clarabelle's faith, the crew had managed to defeat, capture, or at least escape all of the deadly tourist traps the Imp had left behind, while keeping the employees out of harm's way. It sure hadn't been easy, though, and by this end of it, the entire park had been destroyed, much to Jumba's joy and Pleakly's agony. Goofy, Horace, Panchito, Jose, Donald, Daisy, Mickey, and Minnie were all extremely worn out, ragged from head to toe, and desperately needed soap in some places. But they knew as long as the Imp was free, their job wasn't done, and they were determined to follow him to the ends of the earth to right the wrong they had committed.

Much to their surprise, the ends of the earth were five feet away from the destroyed park.

There, smack dab in the middle of the barren desert wasteland and boulders, was a shining white palace that reached the clouds, with beautiful draperies hanging from the towers and an immaculate bejeweled door at the front. The letters I M P were in large gold letters above the door, and every so often one of the towers would either grow or shrink in size. There were no windows, yet the entire crew could somehow hear both music and animal roars coming from inside.

“Excellent eye, friend Donald.” Jose clasped Donald's shoulder, truly proud.

“Knowing where he is one thing,” Minnie said, walking to the front of the group, both jar and lid in her hands. “But capturing him is another! He won't fall for my trick again, so we have to plan carefully! We can't waste time on any long fights that can bore him. All he cares about is himself, so we have to play to his ego!”

Daisy crossed her arms, impressed. “Since when does little miss 'oh my master' take charge?”

“I know, isn't it great?” Mickey was still on the “getting yelled at” high. If this was what the real Minnie was like without her genie status holding her back, he couldn't wait until she was free!

“We should divide into two teams,” Minnie continued, ignoring the comments while surveying the group and trying to decide who would be best in which team. “One to distract him, and the other to capture him. He'll suspect another trick from me and Mickey, so we'll be on Team Capture. Daisy, you're excellent at capturing people's attention and keeping it, so you'll be on Team Distraction. Horace, you and Clarabelle...” She then stopped, remembering. “Where is Clarabelle? Is she still out there in the desert?”

Horace grunted, kicking his foot in the sand. “Of course she is! Darn woman's never there when I need her most!”

Daisy held up a pointer finger to indicate all should go quiet, her eyes closed and searching with her power. After a brief moment, she burst into laughter so hysterical she leaned on Donald for support, not that he minded. She managed to catch her breath, and let out a wild giggle. “Count Clarabelle in for Team Distraction!”

Goofy raised a hand. “Whaddya mean? Is she okay?”

“That depends on your definition of okay.” Daisy snickered, her hand on her beak. “From what I can see... The Imp took her as his wife! She's in there now, leading him on, and they're acting like newlyweds!” She then lost herself in laughter again, and Donald did his best to keep Daisy steady on her legs. “Queen Clarabelle Imp! HAHAHAHAHA! I could watch this all day!”

Mickey didn't find this so humorous. “Gosh, I hope she's all right... if he thinks being a friend means it's okay to hurt them, who knows what he thinks being in love is?”

Horace, during this entire revelation, had gone completely still and silent.

“We have to believe in her,” Minnie insisted, hands together. “She's strong! She's a fighter! And I know she'll be counting on us... so we have to prove her right. We'll sneak into the palace while she has his attention, and capture the Imp. If anyone can hold her own weight, it's Clarabelle!”

“An excellent plan!” Panchito smacked a fist into his chest. “And I agree with it completely! It is without flaw! But I have one question that may put a hitch into it.”

“What's that?” Minnie asked.

Panchito pointed off. “What's Horace doing?”

“... Uh-oh.” Minnie turned around, and just as Panchito was suggesting, Horace had already begun sprinting off towards the castle, thoroughly ignoring any plan they had just made. “Why are men like this?!”

“I dunno,” Daisy quipped. “Why don't we ask Lotus Blossom?”

“SHUT UP AND STOP HIM!”

~*~

Clarabelle had lost count of how many doors she had been through – it was fifteen, for the record – before she decided her heart was about to explode. Just as Horace was only half as powerful without Clarabelle around, the reverse was also true – boulders couldn't fight back, but lions, tigers, and bears, oh my, they certainly could! Clarabelle had fought tooth and nail just to survive, but she was running out of both, staggering out of the last doorway and hoping her hair wasn't on fire. “Imp... honey, darling, sweetie, could I please take a break?” She latched onto a blank wall, using it to support her weary limbs.

“But why stop now?” the Imp cooed, up in the air again, eyes glittering with admiration. “It's been so thrilling! Not once has your beauty ever faded while you've taken on my most challenging courses! It's like watching a work of art! We really were made for each other, you and I.” With a dreamy sigh, he eyed the remaining doors along the opposite of the wall. “I don't want to spoil things, my love, but oooh, seeing how you're going to do with the one-eyed giant is going to make me swoon!”

Just as Clarabelle was meeting her limits physically, she was meeting them emotionally as well. If the Imp was going to punish her for who she actually loved, then, shoot, it couldn't be much worse than what she'd already been through! She ran a hand through her sweaty hair, sighing hard. “No one is 'made' for each other, kid. People aren't built that way. We don't exist for the sake of other people. I know you haven't been around very long, but you've still got a long way to go before you understand what 'my love' actually means.”

The Imp frowned, disliking how this conversation was going. “Whatever do you mean, my sweetest?”

“For starters, enough with the pet names. I'm not your pet.” Clarabelle backed herself up against the wall, seeing the glint of her wedding ring from the corner of her eye . “When you love someone, you don't own them! They will always be their own unique, special person. You don't have to absolutely adore every single thing about them... and only the worst people adore every single thing about themselves. It's about... finding the kind of person who will love you in spite of stupid arguments and eating too much breakfast.” She held up her hand, seeing a small reflection in her ring, but not truly seeing herself. “It's about wanting to see the other person happy. It's about finding a piece of yourself you didn't know you needed. It's about being there for each other through the worst times, and finding the best times with each other.” Smiling serenely, she placed her hand over her heart. “And I've already found that person for me... and his name is...”

For the second time that day, Clarabelle was swiftly and utterly bowled over thanks to another person. Only this time, it was the entire wall being punched so hard that it actually fell over and crushed her underneath it. Horace probably wouldn't have done that if he knew she was on the other side, but then again, he wasn't thinking too clearly. He stomped onto the wall he'd brought down, fists up, eyes burning. “WHERE IS MY CLARABELLE, YOU THEIVING MONSTER?!”

The Imp, a little too calmly, pointed downwards. “I believe she's underneath your feet.”

Horace looked down, only now seeing the flattened limbs of his wife underneath the white pieces of broken wall. “... Oh, I'm gunna pay for this.”

Yes, yes he was. “HOOOOORAAAAAACE!” All of Clarabelle's energy was quickly replenished, flipping over and kicking up at the wall on top of her hard enough to send Horace 's head into the ceiling. “WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA, KNOCKING ME DOWN LIKE THAT?!”

Horace landed hard on his back, but was up on his feet in seconds, ready to start their usual match. “I WAS COMIN' TO SAVE YOU, YOU UNGRATEFUL...what are you wearing?”

“MY EYES ARE UP HERE, HORACE!”

“I'M AWARE OF THAT, I'M JUST... could you wear that more often?”

The Imp let out a hearty, cold laugh, crossing his arms and hovering above the two. “You're too late, weakling! Clarabelle belongs to me now, forevermore!”

“HORACE HORSECOLLAR, COULD YOU PAY ATTENTION FOR ONCE WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU?!”

“I WOULD IF YOU WOULD SPEAK LIKE A NORMAL PERSON AND NOT SHOUT MY EARS OFF!”

The Imp paused, unsure if he was being heard. “... Like I said, she belongs to me now, so all your efforts to take her are worthless!”

“I HAVE NEVER SHOUTED A DAY IN MY LIFE! I AM A DELICATE LADY!”

“WHEN DID THEY CHANGE THE DEFINITION OF 'DELICATE'?!”

“... Um... so, she's my wife... are you two listening?”

“I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WOULD TREAT ME THIS WAY AFTER ALL I'VE BEEN THROUGH!”

“I'VE BEEN THROUGH WAY WORSE THINGS THAN YOU, I SHOULD GET ALL THE PITY!”

This was about the time the rest of the crew showed up, peeking over the broken remains where the wall once stood. “Looks like business as usual,” Goofy said, earning agreement from everyone else. “Do you suppose this counts as Team Distraction?”

“Not for long,” Donald pointed out, both figuratively and literally by pointing at the Imp who was losing whatever bits of patience it had. “Whatever's coming next, we might wanna duck.”

The Imp, who considered itself the most powerful and most important being the universe had ever had the honor of creating, didn't like being ignored. His tiny body shook with rage, his beady eyes began to bulge, and when Horace and Clarabelle needed to inhale for their next shout, he yelled at their ears, “PAY ATTENTION TO ME, YOU FOOLS! WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM?!”

“Target practice!” husband and wife said together, and in the blink of an eye, they spun on their heels, smashing Horace's left fist and Clarabelle's right foot into the Imp's small face, sending him hurtling through five solid marble white walls. If that had been their intention all along, or if they could become the perfect team at the drop of a hat, who was to say? The Imp, who had never been hit in his entire life, laid there in the rubble, struggling to comprehend what had just been done. Pain was a new feeling for him, and he didn't care for it. If he had a heart, perhaps this would have been the moment he began to care that he had inflicted this terrible sensation onto others.

But he didn't, and Horace and Clarabelle weren't naive enough to think he'd instantly change his nature. That's why they wasted no time running towards their enemy, even as the monsters that had been waiting in the other rooms escaped and launched themselves at the married couple. Alone, they would have been worn out and easy prey, but together they were an unstoppable force – Horace spinning his wife into a pair of harpies so she could break their wings with her legs, Clarabelle using her body as a backstand so Horace could flip himself over a collection of killer kelpies. All of them were mere obstacles in their way, and Mickey couldn't help but watch in awe at their perfect pairing. “All that arguing, and they still work in perfect sync! Those two are amazing!”

“Sure are,” Goofy said, a little proudly, “Can't have one without the other. They've always been like that, and always will be. I knew it from the moment I met 'em that they'd always be together in one way or another.”

“This is all very sweet,” Minnie cut in, holding up the jar, “But can we get back to the real reason we're here? Everything's so chaotic, we might have a chance to sneak up on him! Let's go!” She hopped into the castle, the others quickly joining in, and the madcap chase began. All the while the Imp still laid there, still thinking, still processing, because none of this was making any sense. He'd given Clarabelle what she wanted, what she deserved, and she struck him? She was choosing an ordinary, weak, powerless mortal over the Imp? That... no, no, that wouldn't do at all. Not to his pride.

By the time he came to this conclusion, Horace and Clarabelle had finally made it to the fifth room and were about to land another double hit, but he poofed away just as their fist and foot hit the marble floor, creating a colossal crater. They looked up to see the Imp floating in the air, biting down so hard on his lip he threatened to draw blood. “I am insulted! I am insulted beyond measure! I am the most powerful being in the universe, and you dare to strike me?”

Clarabelle brought up her leg. “And I'll dare to strike you again if you come down here and fight like a real man!”

“You really thought you could win over someone this stubborn with a few fancy dresses and a nice house?” It was enough to make Horace laugh. “Buddy, there are just some things you can't do!”

This, more than anything else, brought the Imp to the fullest, deepest extent of his rage. “I... CAN DO... ANYTHING!” He was created without limits, without rules, without empathy, why shouldn't he be able to bend the world to his will? “AND YOU WILL REGRET EVER THINKING OTHERWISE!” Playtime was over – now it was time to punish! With a squeak-like roar, he snapped both fingers at once – and in the pinkest puff yet, nine black, thick vines shot up from the floor, each one snatching up a different member of the crew and tying them up in tight knots, complete with thorns! Though each one fought valiantly to free themselves, the strong vines only grew tighter, crushing their limbs and beginning to wrap around their throats.

Donald could see Daisy gagging and tried to reach for her, tried to summon his powers, perhaps a strike of lightning to cut through these plants, but sharp thorns dug into his back, making him cry out and lose his concentration. Mickey dropped his scabbard, far more focused on the lamp on his weapon – if the lamp got crushed, what would happen to Minnie?! - and he twisted around, trying to secure it in his arms, his legs, even his mouth, in a desperate bid to keep it safe. Minnie was beginning to lose her grip on the jar and the lid, and with whatever breath she had left, screamed at Mickey to make a wish – though she could have easily willed herself back into the lamp, she couldn't do so knowing her dear ones were in peril. Panchito and Jose reached out for each other, not caring what happened to themselves so long as they could save the other, and Goofy was making a last-ditch effort to gnaw through his plant prison with his giant teeth. Horace refused to give up, even as he felt thorns dig into his very muscle and bone.

The Imp laughed long and hard at the suffering he was causing, enjoying every tear shed. “So, do you think you can still defy me even now?” He cackled, willing the vines to tighten even more. “There is nothing I can't do! There is no one I can't have! And when the world looks upon your graves, they'll never forget it!”

As his wicked laughter echoed around the castle, Clarabelle watched her friends writhe in agony, trying to save their loved ones and forced to see them suffer. Had this been her fault? If she had merely stayed on the ship and continued on with them, would any of this have happened? Her eyes fell upon the jar, and while she was never known for her brains, it became very obvious to her what must be done. With one last look at her husband, who even now was trying to say her name through gasped breaths, she made a final decision. She could only pull the vine from her throat for a moment, and she'd have to make it count. “I SURRENDER!”

The Imp stopped his villainous gloating, startled by the interruption. “What was that?”

Clarabelle choked out her words through the thorns. “I surrender! Let my friends go, and I'll stay with you! I'll stay with you forever, and do whatever you want! You win! You can have me, you can have anything, just let them go! Please!” Not everyone could hear her through their own struggles, but those that did had their jaws dropped, followed by pleas of denial.

The Imp cupped his chin with his hand in consideration. Perhaps this woman was more sensible than he thought. And it was true, he could do whatever he wanted, and now he had her, so, really, he won, and that was the most important part! “Hmmm... be very careful, my precious one. If you break your word to me, I can break so much more.”

“I swear to you!” Clarabelle fought off the tears in her eyes, and tried not to hear her husband demand her to stop. “I'll follow you everywhere! I'd even go into the jar with you and stay trapped with you for all of eternity! Just so long as the others can go free!”

The Imp thought about this a moment longer, and then smiled. “We have a deal, my darling beauty. A wise decision if ever there was one.” One snap was all it took to make the vines vanish – sending all the heroes crashing to the floor. Mickey caught Minnie, Donald caught Daisy, Horace caught Clarabelle, Panchito caught Jose, and Goofy smashed face-first into the tiles.

As everyone was still recovering from their pain and pressure, Clarabelle pushed herself out of Horace's arms, collecting the jar and lid from Minnie despite her protests, and staggered forward toward the Imp. “W-wait, stop!” Horace reached for his beloved, only his exhaustion stopping him. “You can't do this! Clarabelle, don't!”

“I can wish this away!” Mickey pleaded, but even as he said this, he couldn't decide which wish was best. “Just... just don't do this, Clarabelle! We all need you!”

“He won't keep his promise, you know it!” Daisy growled, glaring hotly at the Imp who watched them with great amusement. “You can't be that stupid! You can't leave us behind!” Goofy would have probably said something heartfelt and touching about all their years together if he didn't have yet another concussion.

Clarabelle stopped, turning back slightly at her friends, a single tear running down her cheek. “I know what I have to do... and I don't have any regrets, if it means helping the ones I love. Horace... when you find Master Hiro, tell him I was always grateful.”

“Tell him yourself, you stupid woman!” Horace was ready to lunge forward, kicking and screaming, had Panchito and Jose not held him back. “We made a promise! We would find him together! Without you... finding Master Hiro means nothing! I'd rather never see him again than lose you! CLARABELLE!”

The Imp flew downward, settling comfortably on Clarabelle's shoulder once more. “Never fear, my lovely, I shall make every day of yours exciting and dangerous! You'll never need to worry about silly things like sleep or food ever again. You understand what it means to be with me, don't you?”

“I understand,” Clarabelle replied sadly, holding up the jar as an offering. “No matter what, I'll always be with you. Even if you somehow got trapped in this jar again, I would go in with you.” She then paused, and squinted into the empty jar. “Not really sure how they'd do it, though. This thing's way too small, we'd never both fit inside. Shoot, I don't even know how you'd fit in there.”

“It's easy, my jewel!” The Imp was, of course, always happy to show off his powers. “With my incredible powers, I can become any size!” With a snap of his fingers, he was now an inch tall, sitting on the jar's edge. “Ta-da!”

And with that, Clarabelle slapped the lid on top. “Mooorooon,” she mooed, and then turned to the dumbstruck crew. “Anyone got some duct tape for this thing?”

“WERE YOU PLANNING ON DOING THAT THE ENTIRE TIME?!” Horace bellowed, knocking over the birds who could no longer restrain him.

“Well, duh.” Clarabelle blew her husband a raspberry afterwards. “What, you didn't think I was actually going to go through with it, did you? How dumb are all of you?” She then laughed a little, tucking the jar under her arm. “Boy, it's a good thing you guys have me around, or else you'd never get anything done!” Horace was left unsure if he wanted to kiss her or strangle her, but thankfully settled for the former.

“Anyone else feel they've aged ten years since this morning?” Daisy glanced up at the remaining walls of the palace – without the Imp's magic, they began to fade away, along with the rest of the creatures and other dangerous instruments. Clarabelle's dress poofed back to normal, much to Horace's disappointment.

Mickey wiped some sweat from his brow, thankful the whole insane ordeal was finally done with. “I say we find the nearest and deepest hole we can find and toss the jar down there... but!” He straightened his back, ready to be positive. “We did get the second piece of the map, which means we're halfway to finding the lost kingdom! Let's head back to the ship and chart the next course!” He smiled, happy to be another step closer to having his parents safe and sound, watching each bit of the Imp's work vanish with little pink puffs of...

Mickey's cheerful mood abruptly halted. Pink puffs of smoke – just like – he glanced at Minnie, who was having the same unsettling thoughts he was, staring as the desert became barren once more. The Imp had been an attempt to create a genie, but instead it had created a destructive, immoral being. Was it because it didn't have a heart? Or was there another story lost to the ages? The founder of the Muhtal must have gotten the idea from somewhere. Hadn't Daisy said the man consulted lost, forbidden magic? But this had been centuries ago, who knew how much of the tale was accurate, aside from what they could see with their own eyes? It occurred to Mickey just then that he didn't know how Minnie, or any genie, came into existence.

And judging by Minnie's ever-paling face and frightened eyes, she didn't know either.

~*~

Pete could taste blood in his mouth, but he was getting depressingly used to it. This session, at least, had been mercifully short. Once Pete had told his dark lord what Scheherazade had revealed, the Phantom Prince had gone unusually quiet, sitting in his throne and mulling to himself, wisps of smoke trailing away from what had once been his feet. How much longer was Pete going to be used as a punching bag? He was smart, he was strong, he could be much more useful if the Phantom Prince would just allow it! One day, he'd prove he was more than just anyone's lackey. He'd rise up, as he had done before, and prove to the world how only the clever and the ruthless got above. Then the Phantom Prince would have to treat him with respect, and give him the power Pete was owed.

But this was a matter to settle for another day. Right now, Pete needed to make sure he heard correctly. “Are you serious?! Instead of us still trying to capture him... you want us to help him get here? What about all his powerful friends? We need to get rid of them!”

The Phantom Prince smiled to himself, thinking of times long gone, of his first gift to the world that no one had been grateful for. “No... that won't be necessary. They should all come here together, like invited guests.”

Pete sat on his aching knees, trying to stand up. “What are you thinking? You might be powerful, but they've got the weather, the All-Seeing-Eye, incredible warriors, a flying carpet, and a gosh-forsaken genie on their side! We're toast if they all come here! What are we supposed to do?”

“They're doing me a favor.” The Prince closed his eyes, still in the past, seeing a pretty young girl who wanted to help everyone in the world, and how that wish had been granted. “They're returning what once was mine.”

Chapter Text

With the second piece of the map attained, Mickey and his friends sailed off to their next location, leaving Pleakly trying to re-rebrand the amusement park – the broken statues kept their gigantic ears, so he toyed with the concept about a rabbit with impossibly good luck. But such things were of no more importance to the crew, their spirits lifted by their victory, as exhausting as it had been to claim. Mickey kept to his room, trying to piece together the first and second parts of the map, but much to his confusion, the two barely matched. They had the same colors and same lines, yet the distances and faded names seemed thousands of feet apart. Were they supposed to be next to each other? Diagonally? Or just opposite sides of the missing ones? The only clue he could gather was that, when connected, the map had two sides of a large circle, leaving little doubt that the other pieces would complete it. But why highlight a circle if you weren't going to label it? What was its importance?

Mickey spent many nights burning dozens of candles as he studied and wrote notes on possible theories until Minnie would come out of her lamp and demand he go to bed. This, at least, had been a positive change in Mickey's routine – Minnie had become much more independent and started giving her own orders. She had favorites when it came to food, even if she didn't need to eat – she had ideas on how to sew the ripped sails faster, and they worked perfectly – and most surprising of all, she often took walks around the ship without Mickey. Mickey was deeply proud of her, though he was unsure how to voice it without sounding strange. Minnie was proud of herself as well, and perhaps didn't need Mickey's encouragement as much as either one thought she did. Everyone was happy.

Everyone but Daisy, although that had little to do with Minnie's freedom of mind and will. The sun was setting, and she was outside, leaning on the ship's railing, her pipe freshly lit and trailing smoke in the gentle, quiet wind. Her small snake slithered onto her shoulder, and she idly stroked it with her finger as she watched nothing at all. If asked, she would've said nothing was wrong, and she'd be lying, which was in her nature. Nearby, doors flew open, and Panchito, Jose, and Donald all ran out with wet mops, in a race to see who could reach an imaginary finish line first. They were laughing merrily, ignorant of Daisy's presence, even as their race turned into a makeshift “sword” fight. Wisps of fluffy snow flurried around Donald, a sign of how much fun he was having, even as he was losing.

Daisy watched them play, or to be more precise, she watched Donald. It had been fun toying with him ever since had arrived on the ship, just as she had fun toying with everyone. She liked pressing buttons and pulling strings, having learned secrets people were struggling to hide ever since she first discovered her gift of the All Seeing Eye. Once you had access to that kind of power, you lost your empathy and your humanity – that's the way Daisy saw it, even if a part of her doubted it was the same with Lady Scheherazade. But Donald – oh, Donald had done the stupid thing and gotten feelings for her.

His embrace in Rumansy, his protectiveness as the Imp attacked, each and every way he valued her safety above everyone else's. What was he expecting in return? That by the power of his love, she'd stop her manipulative ways and become a decent person? Chances of that had died long ago, died when she gained the scars on her body, died when the world had proved she could only survive by violently ripping out her morality. She was on this ship for entertainment, not to help anybody. Donald, the naive, sheltered, former prince who had thought joy and love would forever be out of his grasp, he'd gone and cared for her and that would do him no good. She'd only wind up hurting him, as she hurt everyone.

If he did not hate her now for her shallow and callous ways, then she would make him hate her. Make him wake up and move on, so he could find his family and maybe someone who could genuinely love him in return. Someone with a human heart. It was time to remind them all that Daisy was a cruel, wicked person – and remind herself most of all.

She pushed herself away from the railing, approaching the game as Panchito declared himself the victor. “We may be the three caballeros, but I am the only caballero who has won!

“Who wants to go for two out of three?” Jose spun his mop around, splattering water everywhere, although Daisy knew well enough to duck in time.

“We'll run out of water at that rate!” Donald said with a laugh, and the other two joined in a big guffaw, smacking each other's mops lightly until Donald spotted Daisy approaching. He straightened up, wiping some soapy water out of his feathers. “Hey, Daisy! Uh, don't tell Clarabelle about this, or she'll give us no end of grief... although if you grab another mop, we can race again!” He grinned, offering his own mop to her.

“Careful now, this one cheats!” Jose mused, and Panchito poked Jose in his sides, “Oh, you only say that because her pretty face would distract you!”

Daisy didn't laugh. When it was became clear she wasn't engaging in any theatrics, the boys sheepishly settled down, perturbed by how serious she looked. They had no idea that inside, Donald's smile was burning a harsh sear on Daisy's soul, like the sun beating down mercilessly on a hapless desert wanderer. “Midnight,” Daisy finally said, after exhaling a long stream of smoke, “Gather the captain and Horace and Clarabelle. Meet me below deck in the treasury.” After giving those instructions, she turned on her heel and began to walk off.

Donald scratched his head, trying to figure out what game or tease was in those words. “Huh? Why, Daisy?”

“Because,” she said with her backs to the boys, “I want to tell a story.”

~*~

That night, as midnight came near, Mickey was sound asleep in his bed, his fingers stained with ink and snoring up a storm. Pluto was wrapped up in blankets on the floor, his tail wagging as he dreamed of games with his Master. Genies didn't need to sleep, although they could if they pleased, and they didn't dream. So often on nights like this when Minnie was alone with her thoughts, she would poof out of the lamp and settle onto the bed. Her mind wasn't a fun place to be, especially given those dreadful words the Imp had told her.

“Do you know how you were created?”

Every time she tried to remember her origins, her first master, there was a stabbing pain in her mind and chest and the insistence she must never remember. Before she met Mickey, she had never really cared much about her birth, and neither had any of her masters. All she knew was that she simply... came into being, as simple as that was, knowing the rules already. They who own the lamp own the genie. A genie cannot repeat wishes. A genie must never cry. Because if she cried... Because if she cried...

… What would happen? Again, Minnie did not know, save for a dreadful sensation in her body that said it would be terrible. Not awkward, not uncomfortable, not sad, but if she ever shed a single tear, this great and horrendous something would be worse than whatever gave her cause to cry. So when former masters hit her or insulted her or broke their promises, she would beat the ends of her palms into her eyes to make sure the tears didn't come, even if she had no idea of the consequences. This had been her life. She assumed it would always be her life. Then along came Mickey, and...

Her eyes drifted to the sleeping prince, who was drooling onto his pillow. He looked younger when he was asleep, like an innocent boy, but she knew the depth and viciousness of his anger. Minnie ever so slowly crawled on the bed, freezing in place whenever she thought she heard the bed creak. She sat near his head now, looking at the scar on his neck that even in the darkest of nights could still be seen with its golden sheen. He had made a sacrifice to entwine his life with hers – he had beaten a man near to death. He refused to use a wish to better his life at the expense of hers – his naive nature had cost them time and time again. He was good. He was not perfect. He was flawed. He was... human.

And she was not. But maybe someday she would be. Then when he could do no more for her, and she no more for him, what would their lives entail? She was afraid. She was excited. Minnie, in this moment more than any other, understood that hearts were not simple, nor were people. A person was not a single shade, a single personality trait, a single feeling. They were a mix of the lives they led, and Mickey had grown up surrounded by love, so he was a loving, good person. He was not perfect, never would be, and nor would he wish himself to be. Her fingers lightly touched his cheek, feeling the warmth of his fur and skin, and decided that maybe her past no longer mattered, now that Mickey was fighting for her future. Silly boy, frustrating boy, dear boy, the bed creaked, she leaned down, heart beating, was it a heart that separated her from the Imp, a heart, her heart, beating, beating, beating, as she came closer to him, so closer, feeling his breath and -

“A-hem.”

Never had the sound of someone clearing their throat ever been so horrifying. Minnie slowly raised her head, seeing Daisy in the bedroom. The duck had her eyebrows raised and a piece of white cloth in her fingers – she had intended to snatch the lamp without accidentally becoming Minnie's master, but, well! Well ,well, well. The two women stared at each other, the room silent save for the logs Mickey continued to saw. Minnie hoped that genies didn't need blood in their entire bodies to live, as she was absolutely certain all of hers was now in her face. Not that she was embarrassed! No! Noooo! Of course not! Because she hadn't been doing anything! She hadn't been about to do anything either! No! Never! SHE REALLY WASN'T! SHE SWORE SHE WASN'T!!! IF DAISY TOLD MICKEY ABOUT THIS, MINNIE WOULD JUST DIE!!!!!!

Daisy pointed to the open door, suggesting they leave, and Minnie shakily crawled off the bed to obey. Once they were outside and the door was closed, Daisy slowly turned her head to Minnie, and clicked her tongue to her cheek. “... Sooo. You do that every night?”

The honest answer was no, but Minnie sincerely doubted Daisy would believe a word. “What do you want?”

“Midnight meeting, everyone's in the treasury. Let's go.”

Minnie paused, glancing back at the door. “What about my Master?”

“He needs to stay in there, and you need to come with me.” Daisy expected Minnie to argue about this, and on cue Minnie opened her mouth, so she added, “You try and get him and I'll tell him you were dancing naked in there.” That shut Minnie up, and the two women walked off.

The treasury wasn't much of one, all things considered. Given how much the crew spent on food and other necessities, they weren't exactly rich. Most of the objects in the small room were trinkets and talismans of people they'd helped, robbed, or robbed then helped, or helped then robbed. Goofy was sitting on top of a broken treasure chest, yawning, as Horace and Clarabelle took up a corner that was full of old tribal masks. Panchito was adjusting the strings on his guitar, Jose was puffing away on a cigar, and Donald was trying to sit somewhere that didn't have sharp spears or pointy jewels sticking out at his feathered behind. Daisy and Minnie arrived, and as soon as Horace saw Daisy, he spoke angrily, “All right, what's all this business about meetin' up in the middle of the night?”

“I need my beauty rest,” Clarabelle added, but then shot her husband a look, “Not a word.”

Goofy rubbed one of his sleepy eyes. “Aw, I'm sure Daisy has a good reason for gettin' us all here...” He then blinked, realizing they were one short. “Hey, where's Mickey?”

“Mickey's not coming,” Daisy announced, closing the door. “Because we're here to talk about Mickey.”

“Is this about his anger again?” Donald frowned, deciding to stand for now. “He's working on it! We just need to work together and help him out, that's all.”

Daisy took her pipe out of her ponytail. “No. We're here to talk about the source of Mickey's anger... rather...” She lit the pipe, but didn't smoke it just yet. “Don't you think it's about time Minnie learned the story of Scheherazade?”

Minnie rolled her eyes – what kind of ridiculous play was Daisy making, and she expected to find similar looks among the crew. Instead, she saw their faces drain, their eyes widen, and each of them looked to a friend, trying to find comfort in what had just been said. “What's so important about that?”

“She doesn't know?” Horace said quietly, tugging the collar of his shirt. “Shoot, I done thought that Mickey told her eventually!”

“Hang on.” Donald's voice was jittery, trying to sound calmer than he really was. “If he hasn't told her, then I don't think we have a right to!”

Daisy snorted, waving her pipe about. “Oh please. After the things she's seen, he's never going to tell her. I almost can't blame him... but if she wants to understand the gravity of our journey, if she really wants to help Mickey out, then she really needs to know who he came from.”

Goofy gulped audibly, his eyes on the floor, unable to decide if this was right or wrong. Donald advanced on Daisy, his anger rising, lightly pushing Minnie behind him, a shadowy cloud silently forming along the ceiling. “Daisy, I'm serious! That isn't for us to decide!” Minnie was stunned at all of these reactions, and a knot twisted in her chest. “We're Mickey's friends, this is betraying him! You cannot tell her!”

Yes, this was what Daisy wanted. Fire and darkness and hatred, all directed at her. Now Donald would learn there was nothing to be had loving her. Now they'd all learn she was not their friend. She was a walking curse, a living damnation, and as she couldn't trust anyone, they couldn't trust her. She stared deeply into Donald's eyes, and in her mind's eye she felt a dagger thrust hard into her heart ; she grabbed the hilt with her hands and pushed it in deeper. “I'm going to tell her. Do you really have it in you to stop me? Do any of you? You all think you're so righteous and moral... but deep down... you want her to know the truth. Because it will come out, one way or another.”

“But not like this!” Donald snapped, his fingers curling into fists, yet he could not find the argument he needed. The rest of the crew were just as stuck, their tempers flared yet unable to move forward and stop what was to happen. They didn't want Minnie to know – but they also understood she needed to know.

Minnie, at last, stepped forward. “Enough! I am not a child. I won't have you all making decisions for me, not when my Master is trying to free me!” She raised her eyes to Daisy's, determined to face her and face whatever darkness lay in Mickey's past. “Whatever you tell me, it won't change who he is or what he's done for any of us! He's still trying to help people, and he always will! What do you think I need to know so badly that could possibly change what he's done for me?” The dare was thrown, and there was no going back now. She wouldn't let Daisy win, not with whatever scheme she had in mind.

“Good answer,” Daisy said, her smile full of wickedness, and she took a long breath from her pipe, the smoke swirling all around her beak when she exhaled. “Very well. Now you can join the rest of the world and learn the story of Scheherazade. But it doesn't start with her. No... this story starts with Mickey's father... Sultan Muhtim Algalb of Rao.”

~*~

Once upon a time, in a grand and glorious kingdom, there was a young sultan who had gained the throne before his time. His father had unexpectedly died of a terrible sickness, and so the young man found himself with power and responsibility all at once. The young man was, naturally, nervous about his rule, but did his best to lead his people into peace and prosperity. He made mistakes, but then, who doesn't? Yet as he sat on his throne and made his grand decisions, he found the palace life empty, especially with his father gone. He longed for companionship, someone to help make all these hard choices. Thus, one year after his father's death, he decided he would marry. Surely a good Sultana would ease his heart and help him through the difficult ways of ruling a kingdom.

Many beautiful women from many noble households were brought before him, and on the third day of his search, the most beautiful of them all was brought before him. She was from the lowest of all the noble houses, yet her allure was that of a goddess brought down to earth. After only meeting her once, the young sultan declared she would be his bride. The sultan's councilors advised against this, as the sultan knew so little about her after meeting her only the once, but he would not be dissuaded. The sultan was convinced she was his one true love, and that he didn't need to know more about her in order to adore her. They were wedded the very next day, and the entire kingdom celebrated their union.

The sultan gave her everything her heart desired – wealth, dresses, servants. But she did not give him the help he desired, instead choosing to stay in her room all day and play with her pretty things. Day after day he would ask her advice on matters, and she would tell him to give her another gift so she could think about it. Despite all this, the sultan still loved her, and knew that she loved him. Since she continued to ignore his pleas for help at day, one late evening he decided he'd try asking her at night. That's when he caught her in the arms of a servant, embraced like lovers.

When the sultana saw his shocked face, she merely laughed. “Did you honestly think I loved you? Silly fool. How could anyone ever love someone like you? You only looked at me and decided I was the one, never even asking if I had any idea how to rule a kingdom. You're good for nothing but giving me gifts. Why should I help you?” She laughed and laughed and laughed at her foolish husband, thinking because she had gotten away with so much for so long, this too would pass.

The Sultan, raised so lovingly and praised for so long, had never been so deeply humiliated. A new, frothing hatred burned in his soul – every ounce of love he thought he had for his wife was now scorched and charred, consuming every part of his body in pure, raw hate. In that moment, he not only longed for revenge, but for her to feel every ounce of pain he was experiencing. Like a wild animal, he lunged at his wife and her lover, and with a blade that was meant only to defend himself, took their lives.

~*~

The air in the room dropped to freezing temperatures, and for once it couldn't be blamed on Donald. Minnie began to tremble, and it only became worse when she didn't hear her friends chiding Daisy for lying. She desperately looked around for any sign of annoyance at a fib or sighing about an exaggeration, but there was nothing to support her hopes – no one would look at her or at Daisy, eyes staying on the floor if not shut outright. The only sound that could be heard was the delicate crackle and flicker of Jose's cigar, as he'd hoped a swift smoke would settle his nerves, which it did not. All of this meant one thing – Daisy was right. Mickey's father murdered two innocent people.

“That...” Minnie tried to start a sentence but found no words to continue. “That can't...” How was such a thing possible? Mickey, kind and silly Master Mickey, had been raised with genuine love and was on a mission to rescue those who meant the most to him. How could anyone who spilled needless blood have created a boy who refused to spill any? Yet even as she tried to deny it, her voice hollow and terrified, the words of anger in the story resonated too deeply. She'd seen it with her own eyes the depths of Mickey's rage when he gave into hatred. She felt sick, and her body weakened.

Suddenly Donald's protective arms came around her, preventing her from the collapse she hadn't seen coming. “Daisy.” His voice cut in sharp as a knife, eyes cutting just as deeply. “Don't you think that's enough? Can't we continue this another night?”

Daisy turned her head away, making up a snorting laugh to avoid how harsh his eyes hurt, but it was Goofy who spoke up with his gentle tone. “She needs to continue now.”

“What?!” Donald craned his eyes over, crackles of lightning shining in his eyes.

“She needs to continue now,” Goofy said again, cupping his empty hands together. “We can't leave things like this. I know it ain't easy...but it's gotta be done.” Just as he and Horace had sworn to stop Mickey if or when his infamous father's blood showed up, so this too was a terrible decision that had to be enforced.

Minnie stared at Daisy, trying to find a way through the loopholes Daisy always seemed to create. What if... yes, what if Lady Scheherazade slew this terrible man while carrying his child, and then married a new, better man, the one that raised Mickey and made him into the gentleman he was today? “Continue.” It was almost impossible to hear, given how soft her voice was. “Please.”

Daisy twirled her pipe in her fingers, the light inside dying.

~*~

The next morning, as the Sultan's servants buried the treacherous wife and her lover, the Sultan demanded a new wife be brought before him. The servants were nervous, but they assured themselves that this time they would find a truly worthy bride, one who would heal the Sultan's heart, and he could be forgiven one moment of insanity. They searched high and low, and decided upon a pretty young woman from a family of scholars. She could read, write, debate and even made her own abacus. A brilliant lady like this would help guide a Sultan to rule his kingdom wisely. She was brought before the Sultan, and they were soon married.

But as night fell and the Sultan visited his bride in their royal chambers, all he could see was the first wife, still laughing at him. Even though this new bride smiled and honored him like a devoted one should, all he could hear was the mocking laughter and anger filled him once more. It controlled him, and he slew her as he did the one before. This had not been one moment of grief-driven insanity. When the servants came to wake the Sultan the next morning, they discovered the corpse of the new bride, and the blood-soaked Sultan, who merely told them to find him another wife.

~*~

Minnie's fingers dug into Donald's arms, and he held her tighter, tighter, tighter, as if his brotherly warmth could protect her from the cold reality of the story.

Stop it, her mind screamed, but she couldn't voice it. Stop it, this can't be true.

~*~

The servants panicked, horrified, but they were dutifully bound to obey. Each day they would bring a new woman, each afternoon she would marry the Sultan, and each night he would kill her. Some say that clever guards ushered the women out of the kingdom before they met their bridal bed, and told the Sultan they had run away. Some say women in the kingdom disguised themselves as men and lived their lives this way to avoid being chosen. But soon it became known throughout the lands about the Sultan's murderous ways, and no one in the palace had the spine to stop him.

No one could ever dare to try, until this bloody tale met the ears of Lady Scheherazade.

~*~

“And that,” Goofy suddenly interrupted, sliding slightly forward on the treasure chest until his feet touched the floor, “is where I came in.”

This seemed to startle a few people, or at least Donald, Jose, and Panchito. “You, captain?” Panchito asked, curious. “I've never heard this version of the story before! What do you have to do with it?”

“Well, most folks don't know about her All-Seein'-Eye, and that included me,” Goofy said with a shrug. “Until Daisy joined up on our crew, that is. Back then, it was just me on the ship, but I guess my name was so famous that Scheherazade used her Eye to find me, and to find out what was goin' on in Rao. She's the one who asked me to take her to the kingdom, but she only told me she was goin' there to get married. I never even knew what the Sultan was doin'.” A click of his tongue, Goofy reviewed his memories in a new light, given all that he had learned. “If I had, I would've stuck around and stopped him somehow... maybe she knew that too.” Perhaps, the theory everyone thought but went unsaid, Goofy would have taken his life, and Scheherazade wanted to try sacrificing her own life first.

That's when Minnie remembered Mickey's reaction to Daisy's revelation about the All-Seeing-Eye, and how confusing it had been for her at the time. The crew had calmed Mickey by reminding him that Scheherazade still willingly put herself in danger, and pieces began to come together. “She was that sure she could stop him...?”

“Who knows?” Horace admitted, and Clarabelle nodded in agreement. “I mean, there was no guarantee her plan was gunna work... If you done told me that stories would stop a murderer, I'd have called you crazy.”

“Stories?” Minnie parroted, her terror momentarily laced with utter confusion. “How can a story stop anyone?”

“Maybe if you wouldn't stop my story,” Daisy said after clearing her throat very loudly, “I could tell you.”

~*~

Lady Scheherazade approached the palace, her head held high, and offered herself up as a bride of the Sultan. The servants looked upon her with pity, assuming she would be the next to die, but they took her in and presented her to the Sultan. As with all the others, they were married with the sun still high in the sky, and as it began to set, she waited in the royal bedroom for her husband. When the doors opened, and she saw him standing there, his blade at the ready, she spoke. “Before we go to bed, my husband, I have one request.”

“Be quick about it,” the Sultan replied.

“I wish to tell a story. Would that be all right?”

The Sultan was surprised – it seemed like such a childish wish to make before her death. Perhaps it was the remaining sliver of humanity in him that allowed it. “Very well, tell your story.”

And so she did – she wove a tale of a young boy who longed for greater things outside of his tiny village, and so he walked the vast reaches of the desert until he noticed a dark shadow following him. No matter where the boy went, the shadow followed, but when he looked up, he could not see where it came from. So the boy took to the mountains, and he climbed up to the clouds, where he met a wise elder who spoke of an impossible hunt between a mad sailor and a vicious beast that none of pure heart could see...

All through the night Scheherazade wove this tale, using her unknown Eye to find stories people had lived through. The Sultan eased the grip on his blade, the fog of anger around his mind fading as he imagined the brave boy picking up a sharp stick and managing to go toe-to-toe with a barbaric hunter. However, just as the young boy was about to discover what the ship was, Scheherazade yawned.

“It is late, my husband,” she said, “And we must rest.”

“But you did not finish the story!” The Sultan shouted, shocked to find how involved he had become with the story. He knew if he didn't discover the ending, the fate of the boy and the shadow, he would lose his mind. “How does it end? Finish it now!”

“How can I properly tell you the ending if I am too tired?” she replied. “Let us sleep. Tomorrow, I will tell you the next part of the story.”

The Sultan reluctantly agreed to the deal, and so together they slept. In the morning, the servants were happily stunned to see there was no blood to clean up. Could this woman finally stop the Sultan's madness? Or had this night merely been beginner's luck? The Sultan went about his day, doing that which royals do, but all the while he thought of the boy, of the shadow, and of Scheherazade. Tonight she will die, he thought, after she finishes the story, for in the end all women are the same.

Night came, and again Scheherazade asked to tell a story, and again, the Sultan allowed it. The boy discovered that the shadow had belonged to a flying ship in the sky, enchanted by the gods but stolen from them in a moment of villainy. The boy had defeated the thief, but now the gods mistook him for the one who stole it, so now the boy was on a quest to prove his true heart's intentions... But Scheherazade knew not to end the story with the boy. She wove tales about the thief, the gods, the villagers waiting for him back home, the elder in the mountains, of friends and families, of strangers and magic, all across the world.

The Sultan needed to know each of these stories, so once more, he spared her life that night. With each passing day he looked forward to the sun setting, even if he tried to convince himself this would be the last sunset Scheherazade would see. Days turned into weeks, into months, into years. With each passing moment, his muscles would unclench, the lines in his face would fade, and the ice around his heart would melt. As he worried over his kingdom during the day, he would find solace at night – when villagers spoke of how the lack of rain would kill their crops, that night Scheherazade would speak of a witty farmer who dug for gold and found a sleeping, drooling giant underground. The next day, the Sultan would command his people to dig for water, and build an irrigation system to keep it steady. Many times did Scheherazade offer her advice this way, and many times did Scheherazade save the people.

Scheherazade did this for one thousand and one nights, and it was on that very last night the Sultan entered their bedroom with no sword to be found. She asked to tell a story, and he allowed it. She spoke of a young girl who was the prettiest of them all, and because she was so pretty no one bothered to teach her a thing, figuring that her beauty would provide everything she wanted. Her mother doted on her, her father spoiled her, and so she grew up knowing nothing but beautiful people and beautiful gifts. One day she was chosen as a bride for a powerful ruler, and expected everything to stay the same. After all, why should anything change? He only wanted her for her beauty, and so she expected to continue being adored and spoiled.

As she took everything she wanted, she had no idea she would incur the wrath of her husband, and when he saw that she didn't care for him, she was slain like an animal in the hunt. Her loving mother cried, her dear father screamed, as did the mother and father and brothers of the lover she had taken...

… And it was then that the sin of the Sultan returned to him, and he finally understood the great evils he had committed. His first bride was cruel and petty, but she had done nothing to deserve death, nor had the lover, nor had all the women he'd taken as brides. With a cry so loud it shook the heavens, the Sultan knelt down and wept, ashamed of all the atrocities he had committed. Had he his blade with him, he would've taken his own life right then and there. Scheherazade rose from her bed and stood over him, telling him that his tears would do little good for her, as there were others who needed to see them.

She brought him outside of the palace, where he got down on his hands and knees and apologized for all the terror and bloodshed he had brought upon his home. He claimed he didn't deserve forgiveness, and if they desired to punish him, he would take it. It was agreed that the families of the dead women could give forty lashes for every life lost, and he was stripped down to the flesh, not resisting his punishment. But Scheherazade stripped down as well, insisting that as the wife of the Sultan, the honorable thing to do was to be whipped as well. The townsmen were shocked at her devotion and loyalty, but their grief was too strong, and the beatings began. As the families came together to deliver their strikes, the Sultan and Sultana's skin broke and blood poured, yet they never begged for mercy or lifted their heads.

Hours passed in sheer agony, and it soon became clear that if this continued, both husband and wife would die from their wounds. As eager as many were to kill their Sultan, they couldn't bring themselves to end the life of the woman who saved their kingdom. It was then they understood how pointless the taking of an innocent life would be, and they would be no better than the man they loathed. A cycle of revenge would never end, would never prosper, and would only bring eternal misery. The whipping came to a halt, and the villagers asked their rulers to rise. They could not and would not forgive their Sultan – but they would praise and worship the woman who had saved their lives with her stories.

~*~

“And then the sultan became a good guy and they had Mickey and the end,” Clarabelle spoke rapidly, trying to finish the whole sordid ordeal once and for all. She felt there had been no need to drag out all the extra details. “There, we're done! Now can we stop talking about it?”

Daisy's eyes narrowed, thoroughly irked that they'd taken the story reins away from her. “You all think it's that simple? Just a happily ever after? Haven't you ever once thought what kind of babe would come from such a union?”

Stop it. Minnie didn't look up.

Goofy opened his eyes and tilted his head, his long ears drooping over. “Whaddya mean, Daisy?”

“Mickey's a boy born from blood and heartache.” Was Daisy exaggerating as a form of revenge, or did she on some level believe what she was saying? It was always difficult to tell when she was being entirely truthful. “Even if the girls were saved, the sultan intended for them to die. If that's not blood lust, I don't know what is. Once you know who Mickey was, haven't you wondered if that's inside of him? Don't you remember what he's done?”

Stop it. Minnie's fists began to clench, and she could feel her fingernails almost piercing through her skin.

“That maybe, if he was hurt in just the right place, he'd snap?” Daisy snapped her fingers, holding her hand high. “That if he's pushed hard enough, he'll be out for vengeance against any one of us, no matter how much he loves us? Don't tell me none of you have ever considered it! I bet deep down beneath that cute smile of his, there's a great big beast ready to come out. It's already come out once on this journey of ours. Who says that was the end of it? That one point where he'll give into his past, and become his father's son-”

“STOP IT!” Minnie hadn't known her voice could be so loud, nor did anyone else in the room, given how all eyes were now upon her. Donald was so surprised he wound up letting her go, his arms backing up. “Stop saying these things! Stop talking like you know him! My master isn't like that at all!” Anger was bursting through her chest, a fire that was roaring out of her mouth, screaming each protest louder and louder until it threatened to destroy her throat. Mickey was not like that, not like that at all, he couldn't be pushed that far, he would never hurt anyone on the ship, he would never hurt her - “I won't let you talk about him like that! You don't know him! You don't know him at all!”

With that declaration came a need, a need to have Mickey know he wasn't like that, to assure him that he was kind and wonderful and special. Minnie shoved Donald out of her way, racing out into the hallway, her little feet echoing a stampede.

Donald watched the open door for half a second, and then snatched the smoking pipe out of Daisy's hand. “Are you happy now?” he growled, crackles of lightning running from his fingers onto the pipe. “Is that what you wanted, to see Minnie miserable? Why do you enjoy making us so unhappy? Isn't there any part of you that actually cares about us? Don't you have something that resembles a heart?!” Jose popped open his umbrella in case a storm was coming, and Panchito hid under it.

Daisy snorted, turning away, her pet snake quickly hiding back in her hair. “I didn't see any of you shutting my beak or threatening me into shutting up. You all seem to forget why I'm here – you're nothing more than entertainment. Once I'm bored, I'll leave. You all knew that when I came here, nothing's changed.”

“How can you possibly say that?” Donald pointed the pipe at her accusingly. “Look at all we've been through together, all the people we've helped! Hasn't any of our time together meant anything to you?”

Daisy headed for the open door, yawning loudly, covering her beak with one hand. “Fiddle de dee, must you get so worked up? The last thing we need is our ship capsizing in the sky... though maybe that would be fun too.” With a laugh, she left, and the ache in her heart never stopped.

Donald clenched the pipe so tightly in his hands it threatened to break. Horace walked to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. “She ain't worth it, Donald. Right now, best we can do is leave things as they are and prepare for the next map piece. Ain't that right, captain?”

Goofy had his chin in his hands, pondering an entirely different matter. “I wonder what Daisy sees when she looks in the mirror.”

“...I'm gunna chalk that one up to sleep deprivation and call it a night,” Horace decided, gently guiding Donald and the others out of the room. Donald's head hung low, with Panchito and Jose quietly consoling him and assuring him that everything would be all right – though how and when, they didn't say. Goofy stayed where he was, lost in thought, and as typical of his odd thoughts, he always assumed everyone was on the same page as him – although it usually turned out he was several chapters ahead.

Goofy had noticed that Daisy would look at people as she talked this night, but never actually looked at them – not once did her eyes meet anyone else's, not even as Donald yelled at her. Her eyes would stay on the bodies and clothes and the walls, but never had she gazed into the deep colors of another as she wove the tale of Lady Scheherazade. Goofy had been a pirate for many years, and so knew many thieves and liars – a trait that many liars couldn't shake was their inability to look directly at their targets. With this, Goofy wondered if Daisy had any trouble looking in a mirror, as it seemed to him she was very skillful at lying to herself.

~*~

Minnie kept running, her heart pounding in her big black ears, the blood-soaked story contrasting with the gentle prince she'd known. Even if it was true, it didn't matter. Minnie knew Mickey, she'd seen the way his face would break in sadness at the idea of taking a life. His heart was filled with love for everyone around him, and he would do all in his power for the sake of another, even at the cost of what would make him happy. He could've used Minnie's powers as a genie to simply wish his parents home, but after seeing how exhausted each wish made her, he'd refused. He treated her as a person, not an object, not a slave, not as hundreds of thousands as previous masters had done before.

Daisy had no right to even imply Mickey could become anything else than what he was. What did she know? She didn't see his long restless nights when he worried over his parents, and the fake smile he'd wear just to make sure others didn't see his pain. Minnie had seen it, she'd watched him night over night, she wanted to protect him and was powerless to do so. She had endless opportunity waiting in her magic, but she couldn't use it; she was nothing without someone to give her a command, but to Mickey she was everything. He had promised to free her once his parents were saved, and he'd actually meant it.

And Minnie – she wanted to see that moment, see when he was held in the arms of his mother and father. She wanted his happiness, wanted to protect his adorable smile, wanted to wipe away his tears of frustration. She wanted to stay by his side, wanted – wanted - didn't want her freedom – if it meant she couldn't see that face -

Mickey was still fast asleep in bed, unaware anything had happened, until Minnie slammed the door open, too frazzled to think clearly. Mickey woke up with a start, crying out, as did Pluto who yipped and jumped to all four feet, trying to see if there were any intruders. “Whasa-goin-onnn?” Mickey fumbled for words, jarred out of a deep sleep, and his first instinct was to make sure he had Minnie's lamp on him. Once he was assured of this, he rubbed the last remnants of sleep out of his eyes and looked at who was at the door. “Huh... Minnie?”

Minnie stood there, hand on the door, breathless, and when she saw her master – her silly master, her master of great heroism and noble deeds, who always reached a hand to those in need, who had his own sins to resolve, whose anger needed fixing not shaming, who needed help and guidance, and who would become a great sultan in his own right one distant day away – when she saw Mickey – she understood.

She loved him.

Minnie choked, and had to slap her hands to her eyes to prevent any tears. Genies were forbidden to cry, for reasons even she had long since forgotten, but this would be truly difficult now that she knew what she'd been trying to deny for ages. She loved him, she loved him so much her heart was fit to burst, and she wanted to be by his side even if she was utterly useless to him. She wanted to protect him from the world's horrors, even the ones he had deep inside, to give him everything his heart desired, but what right did she have? What was she? A mere worthless genie? A used up doll that would be tossed away when she no longer had a purpose to serve? What right did she ever have to lecture his anger when she had no heart, no soul, no humanity to speak of? She was another creature entirely, and he was mortal, and had a life waiting for him that didn't need her.

She was selfish, the true monster waiting, Mickey deserved more than her, and her body wracked with agony. Even with his anger, even with his background, even with his future, she wanted to be with him and there was no possible way she could give him happiness. As for Mickey, he was clueless about many matters concerning women and romance, but even he could tell something was terribly wrong. “Minnie?” he asked again, quickly getting out of bed, rushing to Minnie with his arms out. “Minnie, what's wrong? Are you hurt? What is it?” Yet each caring question only served to remind Minnie of how unworthy she was of him, and words couldn't reach her tongue. This was Mickey, the real Mickey, not his rage or revenge.

Mickey scratched his head, trying to puzzle it out. Did she have a bad dream? Could genies dream? Why wouldn't she tell him either way? It seemed like she couldn't speak at all, her face buried in her hands, and it appeared her little legs would collapse any second. Mickey had seen this before, but on a much smaller scale – she was trying not to cry. He mentally debated with himself before reaching out and picking Minnie up in his arms. She let out a tiny squeak, burying her face into his neck. He savored the feeling for half a second before becoming serious. “If you don't wanna tell me what's wrong, that's all right. Why don'tcha get some rest? Maybe get some snacks. I always feel better on a full stomach.”

Minnie mumbled something that could have been “Thank you” but Mickey wasn't able to tell. He walked on, intending to head for the kitchen first, and Pluto followed behind. Mickey remembered all about the “no crying” rule and it had never sat right with him. Everyone needed to cry, it was healthy. He had a feeling that if Minnie was allowed to cry about whatever was upsetting her now, she'd feel much better afterward. He guessed she was probably keeping a lifetime of tears bottled up inside of her. Well then! He decided in his head, Once she's free, I'm gunna give her a lifetime of tissues to make up for it.

After all, not once had Mickey ever considered that the two of them would be apart once his parents were freed.

Chapter Text

Despite being woken up in the middle of the night, Mickey managed to get up bright and early the next morning. While he never got a straight answer out of Minnie about what had upset her, he decided not to push it. When she was ready, she'd surely tell him. For now he decided to focus on the upcoming location of the next piece of the map. Something about a cave – as usual, Daisy was never one to give details until they had arrived. While the disaster with the Imp hadn't exactly been fun, Mickey was looking forward to a new adventure to learn things and better himself.

He walked into the empty hallways, stifling a yawn behind one hand, Minnie loyally on his right and Pluto lagging behind. “I wonder what today will be like,” Mickey said sleepily, rubbing the last bits of dream dust from his eyes.

But not too long after they started walking, Minnie suddenly spoke, “Master? May I ask you something?”

Mickey glanced over, wondering why she was upping the formality and politeness today. “Sure, Minnie, you can always ask me anything.”

“Do...” Minnie was already regretting asking this, and she knew the answer, yet there was a weight on her chest making her press on. “Do you love your parents?”

Any further drowsiness in Mickey was swiftly swept away, startled by such a question. “Huh?” He momentarily wondered if he heard right, then tried to guess what he'd done in his past that would make her doubt his deep affection for his family. “Of course I do! They mean the world to me! Why else would I be doing all this to rescue them?” His eyebrow quirked. “Why do you ask?”

Minnie, obviously, couldn't just say she recently learned his father was a murderer and that his mother miraculously stopped his blood-lust. “I... I was just … I don't know a lot about them, so...I was wondering what they were like.”

Mickey and Minnie had spent so much time together that Mickey had begun to recognize and understand some of her quirks – when Minnie was trying to find a word loophole, her eyes would widen just a bit, she'd bite on her lower lip, and then she'd speak with a gentle carefulness like someone trying to make their way down a rough hill. Like many of her habits, Mickey found it absolutely adorable. So adorable, really, that it became difficult to care why she was clearly lying. “Well, I'm pretty sure I've told you what my mother is like...but my father, oh boy, he's always over the top.” With a chuckle, Mickey resumed his walk. “Everything's always big and loud with him. The only time I've ever known him to be quiet was when mother was telling one of her stories. Gosh, I remember when I was little, she almost lost her head,” Mickey took no notice of Minnie paling at that ironic phrasing, “ because my father was trying to see how high he could toss me!” The chuckle turned into a boisterous laugh, recalling how his mother nearly hit the ceiling when Mickey literally hit the ceiling, his father trying to apologize through wild guffaws. This was a boy who loved his father.

Did Mickey know about his father's bloody deeds? He must have, she thought. How could the story of Scheherazade spread so far and not have the wretched crimes attached to it? Did Mickey forgive his father for his actions, or were they so far away that they couldn't possibly reach him? Was Mickey ever made to suffer for his father's past? Even with all the good his mother had done, there were some things in this world that could never be forgiven. Minnie lifted her head, as Mickey went on about the time his father had brought in fresh fish so he and Mickey could pretend their bath-tub was an ocean. As he laughed about the smell that room had for days, the golden scar on his neck bounced on his throat.

It was then Minnie remembered the famous show-down with Daisy that felt like an eternity ago, where that scar had helped him achieve victory. Where had such a hideous gash come from? Why hadn't it healed properly? For the first time since it attained its golden glow, Minnie actually stared deeply at it, studying it, and with great horror realized this was not a wound made by accident or caused by childish mistake. She'd been through enough horrifying masters to know that kind of cut, that was the kind of slice meant to end a life, someone had actually tried to kill -

“Minnie, what was the last thing I said?” Mickey asked of her, slightly miffed but more amused.

Minnie stopped in place, caught and rather grateful she had to stop thinking. “I. Um... something about... fish?” She faltered, and then shut her eyes, embarrassed. “I'm sorry, Master, here I am asking about your family and not even listening!”

“It's fine, it's fine.” Mickey waved a hand, not minding. To him, it was rather funny that someone didn't care to hear about his famous parents. “If you ask me, just talking about them doesn't do 'em any justice. You'll only get to know 'em when you see those two face to face.”

Minnie blinked – until this moment, and she realized in hindsight it was rather silly she hadn't come to this conclusion before, she didn't realize she'd be meeting his parents. Logically, she'd have to – Mickey refused to use her wishes, and turn her into a mortal, until they were freed. That would mean Mickey being right there with his parents, and Minnie, naturally, at his side. Could she face the former villain that fathered Mickey without seeing his face soaked in blood? And what of the beautiful mother, who Mickey would naturally judge all women against? Would they approve of such a girl being with their prince? “I... suppose you're right,” she finally said. “I won't know them until I meet them... and they won't know me until they meet me.”

Mickey nodded, but then paused for thought. “... Actually, since my Ma has that Eye thing, maybe she already knows you! Going by what Daisy said, all she said is a name to keep tabs on folks, and since she has my name, she has to know all of yours!” To Mickey, this was of great comfort. His parents could see how far in his journey he'd come, how much he'd grown and learned, about the amazing friends he'd made, and about the girl he had fallen for. No doubt they'd seen the horrors he committed against the Grimwolds, but surely they'd also seen his remorse and his efforts to change.

Minnie wasn't as pleased. “I'm... I'm sure she hasn't seen everything!” she said quickly, cheeks beginning to redden. “I'm sure she's so focused on where she is and what's going on that she doesn't watch us that often!” Like when Minnie threw a hissy fit about Lotus Blossom, or when Minnie did those ridiculous cheers in Rumansy, or when Minnie yelled at Mickey at the amusement park, or last night when Minnie WASN'T GOING TO DO ANYTHING TO MICKEY WHEN HE WAS SLEEPING!!!! “...I don't think your parents will like me that much.” Could her master please wish up a rock for her to crawl under and die?

“Aw, don't be silly!” Mickey lightly slapped Minnie on the shoulder, oblivious as usual to her inner panic attacks. “Everyone loves you, who wouldn't? I bet right now my folks practicing all kinds of silly welcomes to say when we rescue them.” Although now that he thought about it, he did kind of hope to get to his parents before Minnie did and beg them not to gush about his first romance. Minnie needed to be eased into his parent's strange ways, not be given the full blast right away. Still, he had faith that his mother and father would adore Minnie and gleefully welcome her to their palace life. He could already picture his mother wanting to dress Minnie up in dozens of dresses to see what suited her best while his father shared humiliating stories of Mickey's childhood. Minnie would be in a better life with freedom to do as she pleased, where she pleased, with who she pleased. Father, Mother, Mickey, Minnie, and Pluto, all together as one happy family. This gave him such happiness he couldn't stop smiling.

At least not until he was in the dining room and saw everybody's glum faces around the table – save for Daisy, who had propped herself up in Goofy's seat again, her pipe unlit in her beak. Mickey looked around, surprised that the energetic crew seemed so despondent, their bodies sagging over the table, eyes worn out, heads hung low. “Some kinda morning greet this is!” Mickey said loudly, getting their attention. “What, did somebody die?”

Somehow that little joke seemed to make things infinitely worse, as they now swiftly turned their heads away from him, Clarabelle clutching her stomach and Jose eating his cigar instead of smoking it. “Sheesh, tough crowd.” Mickey mumbled as he walked over and pulled out his chair. The breakfast meal seemed very small this morning, as if whoever had made it – Horace – imagined the crew wouldn't have much an appetite. Mickey shrugged off the oddness and began to eat after sitting. “So, Daisy, where's the next map piece again?”

Daisy straightened up, popping the pipe out of her mouth. “The Cave of Wants. It's located deep within a maze of caverns, a dangerous trap that has ensnared thousands of lives.” She pressed her fingers together, forming a triangle shape. “Legend has it that the gods once possessed a mirror showing them their greatest desire, but after a war with mankind, the mirror fell down to earth and shattered, creating the cave. Thus, whoever goes within will find what they've always wished for... but they can never leave! They are trapped by their greed, following the twists and turns of the cave until they die! Many have entered, determined to take the pieces of the mirror outside with them and sell them for infinite riches. After all, there are many who would love to see their wishes granted without doing any of the work. Hundreds of adventurers have braved the caverns for this fortune... but none have succeeded! Many call it the Cave of Death, because once you go in... you are never seen again!”

Even though the majority of the crew was still weighed down by the retelling of Scheherazade's fame, Daisy still managed to their attention with her excellent story-weaving skills, and a fresh wave of excitement and fear sailed through bodies... except for Donald, who was extra bitter from the night before. “Wait a minute,” he pointed out, “If nobody's made it out alive, then how does anybody know what's in there in the first place?”

Perhaps a day ago, or maybe even long before that, Daisy would have come up with a terribly witty lie about being connected to the gods, but the acid in Donald's tongue so burned her that her creativity faltered. “Because shut up, that's why.” What was she so upset about? This is exactly what she wanted. She wouldn't be surprised if the crew would find a way to keep her off the ship and sail away without her once the map had been attained. They'd be better off without her, and she'd find new entertainment to keep her busy. She'd done it dozens of times before, what made this so different? “Listen, when have I ever been wrong?”

Everyone's hands went up.

“...Okay, when have I ever been wrong about something that was important?”

Their hands stayed up.

“You guys are no fun.”

Goofy cleared his throat, ready to take over before things went belly-up. “This cave sounds like pretty bad business, so we have to stick together. What if we got a piece of rope and tied ourselves altogether with it?”

“Captain, we love you,” Clarabelle said as gently as she could, “but we can't trust you not to trip, tumble, or otherwise make sixty knots in sixty seconds.”

“Thirty seconds.” Horace felt the need to add.

Goofy conceded the point. “Guess we'll just have to hold onto each other... and we can't distracted. No split-ups, no running off, no going away without telling anyone, no matter what you see or hear.”

“... Why is everyone looking at me?” Mickey asked after Goofy had made his clear instructions.

Clarabelle sucked in air through her teeth. “Mickey, how can I put this delicately...”

“You can't,” Horace quipped, earning a kick to the shin.

“You do have a tendency to go into 'Hero Mode',” Daisy answered, making quotes with her fingers, her snake copying with his tail. “And the cave might use that against you. It might show you an illusion of a girl being robbed by vicious thieves, or Minnie misplacing her clothes-”

“DAISY!”

“-so we just need you to tone it down a notch.”

Mickey mercifully ignored the bait. “Okay, okay, so maybe at times I look before I leap... But I promise, that won't happen this time. We'll stay as a group from the beginning to the end until we find the map piece! And since we all have different desires, we can't all get fooled by the same thing. There will always be someone to snap us back into reality.”

Donald turned his back toward Daisy, intending on ignoring her as much as possible, though this also pained him. “And I've gotten much better at controlling my powers! I can just smash those mirrors with my lightning! I won't let any of you get caught...” He then cast a hateful side-glance at Daisy, unable to help himself. “Because I actually care about all of you.”

Daisy smirked, her newest mask the strongest one yet. “How sweet of you. Just try not to get too emotional in there, being drowned in a cave via raindrops would be such a disappointing way to die.”

Mickey looked back and forth between Donald and Daisy, seeing a battle of glares playing out before him, and he leaned toward Panchito, whispering, “Say, uh, did I miss something?” Last he checked, Donald usually went out of his way to defend Daisy, and her taunts towards him were much more playful. All of a sudden they were now bitter enemies.

Panchito was a terrible liar, as evidenced by his long, desperate “Ummmmmmmm,” as his eyes bounced all over the room. “I cannot recall missing anyone or anything or anywhere! Jose, friend among friends, do you remember missing or being missed?”

Jose at this point had eaten more of his cigar than his breakfast. “Panchito, whose glory is only matched by your bravery, if something was missing, we would find it, and if we're not finding anything, then nothing is missing!”

Mickey wondered why he ever bothered asking the two strangest members of the crew about anything ever. “I give up.” Adventure couldn't be started on an empty stomach, so he started to eat, and the heavy air continued to hang all around them. Most of the crew decided that nothing could be done about it.

But Panchito Pistoles and Jose Carioca would not let this stand. After Mickey had questioned the change in Donald and Daisy's behavior, Jose looked at Panchito, and Panchito looked at Jose. With a silent nod, they understood each other at once. They were simple birds with simple needs, and whenever they devoted themselves to something, it got 110% of their energy. Donald's happiness was 120% devotion, and how could they live with themselves if they couldn't help their dear Donald? They couldn't suddenly find his family, but perhaps the cave would give them something else to work with. They would find a way to fix everyone's sadness, Donald's first and foremost! He was their third Caballero! Their brother from another mother! Their mister who was an A-Lister! And so as they ate their breakfast, they plotted and planned, not once thinking about any desires of theirs that would show up in the cave.

~*~

As usual, Pluto was instructed to stay behind and guard the ship, though at this point Mickey believed there was little point in doing this. Not once had anyone aside from a crew member tried to climb aboard, and any treasure that could be stolen wasn't something that carried a lot of personal value. Mickey thought about this as they sunk their anchor in the deep, rich red sand below and how much he'd used his parents gifts – the pup and the rug. The rug hadn't gotten much use since day one, but then it was such a hefty thing that carrying it around everywhere seemed ridiculous. Why, out of all the gifts to prove her Eye was real, did Scheherazade give him the flying carpet? What other secrets was she hiding?

The sand was soft underneath as they walked, and there was a scent of old clay breezing by them. The land beneath them became steeper as they continued, almost as if they were heading toward the underworld or the lair of Hades. Heavy clouds drifted above their heads, blocking out the sun and erasing the shadows. It was because of this they almost didn't see the cave at first – but when they did, the group collectively gulped.

Instead of being attached to a mountain or hill, the gaping mouth of the cave opened up from the ground surrounded by nothing, except for a woman in heavy robes waiting expectantly. The rocky surface of the cave was darker than the shadows, darker than any night, and even as they squinted they couldn't see anything inside the open hole. Only two stalagmites hung from the rim of the entrance, glassy and clear in appearance, making the entire cave appear as if it was a hideous beast waiting for its next meal.

“Could use a nice 'welcome' mat,” Horace said dryly, and only his wife's iron grip prevented him from retreating.

The woman took her time to approach them, her face difficult to see given how large her gray hood was. Black hair spilled out from her shoulders, and her arms were linked together in her long sleeves. Once she was in front of the crew, she bowed respectively. “Captain Sinbad, Son of Scheherazade... I welcome you to the Cave of Wants.” Mickey thought her voice sounded familiar, but couldn't place it right away. “I am here to guide you.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows, surprised. It would be nice to have a little bit of help, but this was too good to be true. “Well, gee, miss, we'd love to have you along, but... how'd you know who we were?”

The woman then chuckled, suddenly sounding much younger than she was pretending to be. “Who could ever forget you... Big Ears?” As if that infamous nickname wasn't enough to jar all their memories, the woman slid her hood down, revealing -

“Lotus Blossom?!” Mickey, Minnie and Donald all shouted together, mutually horrified. Goofy merely blinked, remembering her but not terribly worried.

Clarabelle grabbed Daisy by her ponytail and spun her around. “You knew she was gunna be here, didn't you?”

“I did not,” Daisy said with an unconvincing grin. She had never heard of a guide for the cave before now, but why question something this hilarious? “Maybe the cave got ahead of itself and granted my wish to see Mickey's ex-girlfriend for myself!”

“SHE IS NOT MY EX-ANYTHING!”

Minnie shoved Mickey aside in order to confront Lotus directly, who had been laughing at all these reactions. “You! What are you doing here? Trying to trick my Master again?”

Lotus merely smiled, bending over to match Minnie's height. “It's so nice to see you again too, oh girl who Mickey finds uncomfortable to kiss.”

“THAT'S NOT WHAT HE MEANT!” Much like the last time Lotus drove Minnie crazy, Donald put himself in charge of hoisting Minnie up in his arms to make sure no further trouble was caused. “WE CAN'T TRUST HER! YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY MASTER! PUT ME DOWN!”

Goofy, sensing this might go in circles for a while, took Minnie's place. “You said you're here to guide us, Lotus Blossom? How come?”

Lotus stood up straight, clearing her throat to give a more dignified response this time. “Well, once I served my time for theft, I decided to turn over a new leaf. The last guide to the Cave was retiring, so I took her place. It's my job to get people in and out of the cave safely, but I can't always guarantee it. So if you want to go in there, you'd better be prepared.” She turned toward the cave, her open hand gesturing to the fang-like rocks atop. “Once the illusion catches you, you'll forget everything else. Drinking, eating, sleeping... It'll give you what you want most, and that's a very hard temptation to resist.” As she motioned with one hand, she kept her other hidden in her sleeve, fingering something small and shiny. “Do you all think you have the strength to overcome it?”

Mickey thumped his fist to his chest, trying to ignore his earlier outbursts. “I know we have it! As long as we work together, there's nothing we can't do! Right, guys?” he turned around, expecting to see a sea of triumph, but his enthusiasm was quashed as he watched Minnie rant and rave in Donald's arms, Daisy arguing with Clarabelle and Horace about how much she really knew about this place – so she didn't know about any guide, what was the big deal? - Panchito and Jose still trying to come up with a plan for Donald's happiness and just up and ignoring everything else, and Goofy had somehow tripped while standing up. “... Uh. We're usually better than this. It's an off day.”

More importantly, Mickey faced Lotus Blossom again, hands on his hips. “Well, I still trust them, but what about you? Are you really on the up and up?” The sting of her deceit still burned, even if ultimately she had been a good lesson for him about going head-first into trust and trouble. “How do we know you're not trying to pull another fast one on me?”

“What could I possibly do this time?” Lotus shrugged, still keeping her one hand hidden. “I'm outnumbered! Even if you go along with it, the rest will keep an eye on me so there's no way I could try anything. Can't a girl get a second chance?”

Mickey “hmm”ed about this for a moment longer, arms crossed and fingers strumming. Those were fair points, and wasn't Mickey the ultimate result of someone giving a criminal a second chance? In the end, they needed the map piece, and a guide would be better than having nothing. With a defeated sigh, he offered his hand to shake. “All right, but no funny tricks! We're here on very serious business! There's an item in the cave we need, and if you can help us get it, I'll forgive you for playing me last time.”

“Done deal,” Lotus Blossom chirped, taking Mickey's hand and shaking it... then yanking him down and kissed his nose. “There! Not quite what I wanted last time, but it'll do.”

Donald slapped his hand over Minnie's mouth to keep in her newest scream, though she was getting harder to hold. Daisy tittered. “I like this girl.”

“You would,” Horace huffed.

“Then let us be off!” Lotus announced, as Mickey quickly rubbed his nose clean. “Everyone stay together, and we'll make this trip as quick as possible! Follow me.” The group began to walk, with Minnie quickly breaking out of Donald's grip and making sure to keep Mickey away from Lotus Blossom. Panchito and Jose hung to the back, and while they hadn't said much to the group, that hadn't meant they weren't listening.

“My dearest and most darling Panchito,” Jose said, using his latest cigar to act as a torch. “I have a conundrum.”

“What puzzles you, and what can I do to help you most?” Panchito asked, moving his guitar onto his back.

“I wonder, you see, how Lotus Blossom knew that we were coming. She didn't seem surprised at all to see us. And to think she would have this exact job at this exact time at this exact location, that is a lot of coincidences piled up together.”

Panchito stroked his chin, now just as intrigued as Jose was. “It seems to me that whenever there are a lot of coincidences piled up together, there are no coincidences piled up at all. That would suggest something else is going on.”

“An excellent deduction! What could that something else be?”

“I have no idea. Isn't that fun?”

Clarabelle jabbed her thumb backwards, unable to hear the birds directly but knowing they were yammering about something or other. “What are those two going on about?”

“Probably how much they love each other,” Donald said with a shrug. “Or me. Or music. Or girls.” He didn't give it too much thought or worry.

As they entered the blackness of the cave, the group huddled together to make sure they wouldn't separate as it became difficult to see where they were going. Goofy linked arms with Horace and Clarabelle, as did Panchito with Jose, and Mickey with Minnie. Daisy felt Donald's arm begin to slink around hers and she violently pulled it back. “Hey!” Donald whispered, hoping it wouldn't turn into an echo across the cave. “I'm just trying to help!”

“I don't recall asking for your help,” Daisy replied snidely, rubbing her arms as the cave began to grow cold without the sun's natural warmth. “We went on about Mickey going into Hero Mode, but you have it just as bad.”

“What do you have against people being nice to you?” Donald growled, finding it harder to see Daisy's shape.

“Because when Nice People help Bad People, they get hurt, and I am a Bad Person. Flintheart should have taught you that first and foremost.” Now she was going too far, but she couldn't stop herself, not if Donald wouldn't learn. “You're nothing but a stupid, spoiled brat who has no idea how the real world works. You should do your family a favor and give up looking for them, because they're better off not finding you.” She drew a breath, stunned at her own words, and for the briefest pause in time, perhaps for the first time in her life, she considered actually apologizing. She hadn't meant it – she rarely meant most of her lies. She could hear the footsteps of everyone going forward, but Donald's had stopped.

Yell at me, she thought. Lose your temper again. Let it all out. Say you hate me. Say you never want to see me again. But Donald said nothing.

“Hey, look!” Mickey's cheerful voice loudly burst out, delighted at what he could finally see. “There's light!”

Just as Mickey said, in the distance there was a hue of rich blue, and as they approached it, they could see clumps of blue goop sticking to the walls and ceiling, surrounded by smaller wriggling blues. All of them glowed brilliantly, giving enough illumination to see their friends and their surroundings. Minnie held up her hand, watching the color on her fingers, amazed by such a sight. “What are these things? It's all so pretty!”

“I think these are glow-worms!” Goofy plucked one off the wall to see it for himself, letting it crawl around his knuckles. “Get enough of these little fellas together and they can light brighter than any torch! If the entire cave is like this, we'll have no problem findin' the next piece of the map.”

“Don't get ahead of yourself,” Lotus Blossom warned. “There's still one vital thing you all need to do if we want to go any further in the cave. I need all of you to understand how serious this. You have to do one big, important thing.”

As expected, now all eyes were on Lotus Blossom, with Mickey frowning. “Well, what is it?”

“Look here.” Lotus Blossom took out her hidden hand, and there was a bright, harsh flash -

Mickey rubbed his fists into eyes – that smarted! He was going to see spots for ages! “What was that for?” he asked aloud, already getting the sense something bad had happened. “Sheesh... this is no time for tricks, Lotus Blossom, we have to keep moving! Just remember everyone, we have to stick together, we cannot be separated!” He turned around to remind everyone of this -

And found himself all alone.

“Well..there's no way they can blame me for this one,” Mickey quietly said to himself.

Chapter Text

Just because you're right about something, doesn't make things instantly better – Minnie was learning that today in the worst way possible.

“Master!” Minnie called out, somehow finding herself both alone and in whole different section of the caverns . There was grass under her feet, which made no sense, and sunlight was filtering through cracks above, which also made no sense as she was certain the sun had been behind many dark clouds when they first entered. She was running as fast as her little legs would take her, desperately trying to find any sign of her friends. “Donald! Goofy! Anybody?!” Oooh, this was all Lotus Blossom's fault, somehow! Minnie knew that Mickey-stealing thief was up to no good! “Master, where are you?”

She appeared to be getting nowhere fast – no matter how far she ran, nothing about the scenery changed. Worse still, every time she tried to will herself back to her lamp... nothing happened. Nothing, nada, zip, zero – and each failed attempt drove her into deeper panic. Was the cave somehow affecting her magic? Would she be unable to help Mickey if he needed her desperately? What good was a genie without their magic? Now she was just a useless lump of flesh, unable to do anything for anyone -

“Minnie!”

Minnie jerked her head up, relief washing over her like the bright rays of the sun above. “Master! Master, I'm here!” Where had he come from? She was certain there had been no corners for him to turn around, no dark shadows he could've hidden in. She heard footsteps behind her, and quickly turned to see her beloved Master jogging up to her. All her confusing questions could wait – what mattered most was that Mickey was unharmed. “Oh, Master, I was so worried! Where is everyone?”

“I-I don't know!” Mickey replied once he was in front of her, trying to catch his breath. Perhaps he had also been frantically searching everywhere for the crew. “After that weird light, I was all alone! When I didn't see you, I... I almost lost my mind!” He suddenly grabbed her shoulders, panic clear on his cute face. “You're not hurt, are you?”

Minnie shook her head, slightly touched that he had been as terrified as she was about him. “No, I'm fine. We should-”

She was about to suggest they start looking for everyone else, but Mickey had yanked her into his embrace, holding her tight to his chest, sighing gratefully. “Thank goodness... if anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do...”

The hug didn't surprise Minnie so much as how long it lasted. Wouldn't Mickey normally have caught himself being so close, then jolted back, stammering apologies? But seconds ticked on, and he still hadn't let her go. Not that Minnie minded – b-b-but this was not the time or place for such things! She uncomfortably cleared her throat, and pushed herself backwards, avoiding his eyes for a brief moment. “Y-Yes, well... we should keep looking for everyone else. Daisy has the advantage with her Eye, and Donald's emotions are probably going to change the weather around him. So we should keep our ears open for any noise.” She turned on her heel and began to walk forward, cupping her chin in thought. Mickey silently fell in line beside her, being unusually quiet.

“And of course, we need to be on the look-out for the next piece of the map,” Minnie said out loud, trying to plan ahead. “In a cave this large, it's not going to be easy. If we can find our way out, maybe we should take Pluto with us and try again, he could sniff it out! And we should also be on the look-out for that awful Lotus Blossom...” Minnie couldn't help but huff at the very thought of that woman, with her lady-like face and gorgeous curves and her other “gifted” areas that Minnie lacked. “The nerve of her, duping innocent people! We can't let her do this to anyone else! Just because she has a pretty face, she thinks she can get away with anything.”

“She's not pretty,” Mickey said rather abruptly.

“You don't need to console me, Master.” Minnie huffed again, but then shook her head. Ranting and raving about that woman wasn't going to help find anyone. “I'm sorry, we should get back on track. Maybe Goofy-”

“She's not pretty at all,” Mickey said again. “You're much more beautiful than she could ever hope to be.”

Minnie stopped so hastily that one of her feet hovered in mid-step, making her look a bit silly. “Huh?” Mickey's compliments weren't typically so... poetic. She rigidly moved her head to look at him – no blushing on his head or awkwardly scratching the back of his head, no trace of stuttering or backtracking. When did he gain so much confidence?

“She could only wish she had such graceful features as you,” Mickey continued, smiling sweetly without any sign of hesitation. “And who could ever turn away from those eyes that sparkle brighter than any jewel? You've got nothing to worry about compared to what's-her-name. Why, you're the prettiest woman in the entire world.” Then, in an unpredictable move, he took her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. “And if you ever need reminding, I'm more than happy to tell you, every single day.”

Minnie opened her mouth and nothing came out. This was Mickey, right?! Didn't he tell her he was uncomfortable making any moves on her because of their master-genie status? Being separated for ten minutes couldn't have changed all that, could it? Her heart was beating so fast she wouldn't have been surprised if Mickey could hear it. “We... we should...” Her mouth finally worked again, trying to make sense of anything. “The crew, they're... probably worried, we should...” The others, like Donald, and Goofy, and...

… And...the other ones...what were...their names again...?

“What's the rush?” Mickey chuckled softly, and the next thing Minnie knew, her back was pressed against the warm cave wall, Mickey's palm resting on the wall as well, effectively trapping her there. “I mean, we haven't spent any time alone together in so long. There's so much I've been wanting to tell you, and I can't hold it back any longer. You understand, don't you?”

“But...but we...but you...” They were here for another reason, weren't they? Something that was... missing...it was so hard to remember now, and even harder to care. “I thought... you said, because I'm a genie, you couldn't...?”

“I know what I said. But I can't keep it up any longer.” His fingers touched her chin, tilting her head up, and now she couldn't look away from his eyes – and she no longer had any desire to, not when they were so deep and gorgeous and tender. “I want to be with you, forever and always. Genies, masters, none of that matters. All that matters now is... I love you.” Then, without anymore waiting, he pressed his lips to hers, and they were as sincere and earnest as she had always dreamed. Minnie could almost weep.

Their arms held each other, and their kiss found no end, and Minnie was happy, happy, happy. He was right. Nothing else mattered. He loved her. It was what she always wanted.

It was what she always wanted.
It was what she always wanted.
It was what she always wanted...

~*~

“Okay, so, maybe trusting the woman who tricked me once wasn't the best idea,” Mickey ranted to no one, still bitter and kicking a pebble out of his way. “But what choice did I have? And no one stopped me! I didn't go into 'Hero Mode' at all!” This wasn't his fault, and he refused to believe otherwise. “So I better not hear any lip from Horace and Clarabelle!” His voice echoed off the strangely reflective glass walls of the caves, seeing his reflection just as upset as he was. But it also allowed him to see the lamp tied to his belt, and he picked it up with a sad sigh. “Aw, gee, Minnie, I hope you're all right...” Why hadn't she poofed back to the lamp? It was difficult not to imagine the worst, and the urge to wish everyone together stayed on his tongue.

But what if that didn't work, and the cave messed with them further? What if Lotus Blossom planned ahead? What if... there were so many unfortunate scenarios he could imagine, and he groaned, holding his head. “Hero mode, my eye! What hero can't make up his mind about how to help his friends? Son of Scheherazade... some son of hers I am.”

“Son of Scheherazade!”

“Yeah, that's what I said!” It took Mickey a second to remember he shouldn't be having a conversation with anyone but himself. “What?” Now that he was listening, he could hear the sounds of battle? The cry of a monster, and swift grunts of a warrior? Mickey ran towards the sounds, feeling as if he was going around and around in circles, until one mirror wasn't a mirror but a passageway -

And there was the Sultan and Sultana, proudly standing over the dissolving corpse of the shadowy beasts the Phantom Prince had sent after Mickey before. Mickey could feel his jaw drop. “... Pa?! Ma?!”

Sultan Al turned his head and made a boisterous laugh, with his hands on his hips. “What took you so long, boy? We've been waiting for you!”

Mickey pointed at his father, then his mother, back and forth, shaking in joyous disbelief. “B-But you... how did... you guys got captured by the Phantom Prince, didn't you?” He should have been far more suspicious about this rather random circumstance, but he was so happy to see them again that it didn't matter. At least, he figured that was the reason.

“You could say he was all smoke and mirrors.” Scheherazade chuckled, as if amused at her word-play. “But we escaped, and we've been trying to catch up to you. Come, let me look at you, my son.” She then put her hands under Mickey's arms, lifting him up to hold him. “Ah, such a brave hero you have become! Full of your own stories and wonder! Yes, you've become a real man.”

“I must agree.” Al joined in the family hug, squeezing his wife and son together. “We're so proud of you! Saving damsels in distress, defeating evil villains... you're so much more than we could have ever dreamed for you. In fact!” He heartily slapped Mickey on his back. “Henceforth, you shall never be called Son of Scheherazade again!”

Mickey's eyes widened, and he didn't know that a smile broke out on his face. “R-Really? I... well, gee, Ma, you know I love you, I just-”

“You just want to be known for who you are,” Scheherazade correctly guessed, lightly poking his black nose. “And not for who you came from. We were wrong for never understanding your feelings. You are your own man, and should be treated as such. And now that we're together again, we can find out who you really are!”

“Yes, you can be whoever and whatever you desire to be!” Al kissed Mickey on the head, his beard tickling Mickey's face and making his son laugh. “Come, we must celebrate! We'll have a most grand banquet, everyone everywhere is invited! We will party all day and all night!”

“All hail our hero, Mickey!” Scheherazade cheered, and Al cheered this as well, and Mickey couldn't stop laughing in great joy. His family was back, and now he would be known as anything but the Son of Scheherazade. They hugged and danced and twirled, and there was color and life everywhere, and all their friends were here, and all the people they met were here, and there was celebration and happiness, unending, eternal! Mickey couldn't stop laughing, and he saw his reflection laughing too, and he knew that what he saw in the mirror would no longer be the Son of Scheherazade. It was what he always wanted!

It was what he always, always, always, always, always...

~*~

Donald couldn't believe his eyes. He rubbed them once, twice, three times to make sure what he was seeing was real.

After being separated from the crew, Donald had found himself in a wet, mossy mess of the caverns, where it was so chilly he could see his breath. There were only a few traces of light thanks to the glowworms, and as a result, he wound up tripping and falling into a large, lake-sized body of water. He sputtered, sitting on his hands and knees, trying to regain his footing. That's when he saw his face in the water – except it wasn't really his face. No, his face was here, and other there was another face that seemed similar to his, except it was... feminine?

He lifted his head, and saw the owner of that other face. It was a lady duck, with clothes almost exactly like his own, except tailored to be a dress. She gasped, and then clasped her hands together. “Donald! It's you, Donald!”

Donald blinked. “Last time I checked I was, yes?”

“I finally found you!” Without warning, she yanked his arm and began dragging him away from the water. “Everyone, come here, I found him!

“Who, what, when, where, and sometimes why?!” Donald snapped, getting annoyed more than outright confused as he should have been. The woman continued to drag him along into the next area full of bright, white light – where dozens of other similarly dressed ducks stood, of all ages, sizes, genders, all of them pleased as punch to see him. They began clapping like an audience after a marvelous play, surrounding him at all sides.

“We're your family!” the woman said, only letting Donald go so she could hug him. “We've been waiting all this time to find you!”

“My... what...?” Donald asked slowly, trying to comprehend everything at once. He looked at all the happy faces – uncles and aunts and cousins and nieces and nephews – and it was if every time he blinked, his family grew and grew with another branch of the family tree. “All of you? You all... you were all looking for me?” Despite what Daisy had said, they... they... what had Daisy said...?

“Of course!” said an elderly duck who could have been an uncle – a real, loving uncle, unlike Glomgold. “You're our family, Donald! We've always wanted you back! We'll never let you out of our sight again!”

“Come on, you have to meet everyone!” The woman giggled, leading him to each and every single member of the family, who wanted to hug and kiss their dear Donald with every ounce of love. She was his sister, here was his mother, there his father, nephews, cousins... Donald was struggling to keep up, but that hardly seemed to matter. His family – his real, blood family – they wanted him, they'd always wanted him! They didn't care what he'd done or how he saw the world, they wanted him! He had a family!

Donald picked up one of his nephews, a small child, and swung him around in his arms. He was home! He was where he belonged! His family, real family, true family, this was what he always wanted!

This was... what he... always wanted...?

~*~

Good luck had rarely been Daisy's friend, so she wondered why it was being so kind to her now. She fingered the third piece of the map, amazed that all it took was one step, and there it had been, right under her foot. The gods had blessed and cursed her with the Eye, allowing her to see secrets people wanted to keep and learn who everyone was underneath the lies, and now all of a sudden they wanted to play favorites. Where had good luck been when she got all those scars on her body as people wanted to use her or kill her?

Ah well, here it was, the end to her journey. She could hear the many footsteps of the crew walking up behind her, the caverns warm and sticky, with water dripping from above. She held the piece out without looking at them, tsking. “Well, that was no fun. Us getting abandoned by our tour guide? That makes for a really quick story.”

“Better quick than dead.” Mickey took the piece from her hand. “At least we're another step closer now. We better start working on finding the next one. Anyone got any ideas?”

Daisy could feel all their eyes on her, like crawling worms on her spine. They were going to leave her behind, she just knew it. It was what she deserved. So maybe she should cut them all some grief and do it herself. “If all our upcoming adventures are going to be this dull, I'm out. I only came along to be amused.” She still refused to look at them as she said it, as she knew one glance at Minnie's baby-face or Donald's blue eyes would make her take it back. “I'd like to say it was fun while it lasted, but you guys are sick of my lies, right?” She laughed, a lying one, and readied another quip to embarrass Mickey or poke fun at Clarabelle, but her train of thought was interrupted when she felt Donald fiercely grab her hand.

“You're not going anywhere,” he said firmly, and her heart skipped a beat. “Daisy, how long are you going to keep this up? Why do you keep doing this to yourself? I know you can't be honest with us, but why can't you be honest with yourself?”

His touch was warm and kind and she hated it. She whipped around, trying to glare at him, teeth clenched. “Stop pretending like you know me! You don't know anything at all! You should want nothing to do with me! All of you, you should hate me!” They were supposed to hate her, why didn't they hate her? She was not capable of love or emotion, why didn't they understand? Why should anything change because she spent more time with them than she had with anyone else her entire life? They weren't friends! They had to hate her!

“I don't hate you,” Donald's voice was soothing, dreadfully so, and he shocked her into silence by cupping her cheeks. “I could never hate you, no matter what you say to me. You already know how I feel about you.”

She did, and it was stupid and wrong and ridiculous and she didn't want it to stop. “You shouldn't, you...”

Donald made a whispering shushing noise. “It's all right. Everything's going to be okay now. Because...” He leaned in, voice dark yet delicate at the same time.

“I'm going to give you what you've always wanted.”

~*~

Five... four... three... two... one. Panchito opened one eye, and saw Jose opening his other. With a mutual nod, they decided enough time had passed in pretend, and sat up, observing their surroundings. Everyone else in the crew laid on the ground, eyes open but without colors, their faces plastered in twisted smiles. When Lotus Blossom had shown that flash of light, they all plummeted to the ground – Jose and Panchito followed suit, unsure why their friends deciding to take a nap but going for it anyway. As the birds laid there and waited to see what happened, Lotus Blossom walked several steps away, taking off her robe and fishing out a dark orb – the same one, the birds noticed, that had been spewing those dark creatures back in Mickey's palace. Her other hand was clasped tightly, making sure it hide the shard that had caused all this trouble.

Panchito poked Goofy's cheek, which did not wake him from his dream of being reunited with his wife and learning about the birth of his son. Jose tugged on the ears of Horace and Clarabelle, and they didn't stir from their reunion from their long last master who was proud of their hard work. Panchito motioned to Lotus, who kept her back to the bodies, and Jose nodded, with a finger to his beak. They couldn't move too much right now, lest they grab her attention without learning what had happened to their friends. But once they did learn... Panchito pulled out one of his pistols, and Jose rolled his umbrella in his hands.

“You in there?” Lotus Blossom asked the orb, giving it a shake. “Hey, I did what you wanted, when do I get my end of the deal?”

As soon as she asked, black smog began spewing from the orb, and Lotus Blossom tensed, trying not to drop it. “The deal is not yet done, thief! Once I have the prince and the genie in my hands, then you will get your just reward.” With that command given, the smog begin to spin around until it had created a Mickey-sized portal in the ground, slowly sucking in pebbles and glowworms. “Do it quickly! And do not touch the lamp!”

Lotus Blossom almost turned around, but hesitated, looking back at the portal with suspicion. “What about the others? When they wake up, I imagine they're not going to be happy with me, even if they do get to see their greatest desires.”

Panchito began to stand up, when his foot touched something that didn't feel like a rock. He looked down, and then his eyes almost popped out of his head. He held back a scream, and instead flailed as quietly as could, wildly trying to get Jose's attention without making a scene.

“Don't be foolish, they're never going to wake up!” the voice barked, growing impatient.

“So, it's a 'happily ever after' sort of scenario?” Lotus Blossom asked, weighing her moral options.

Panchito could no longer wait for Jose to notice him, and grabbed his beloved friend, shaking him hard and then frantically pointing at what his foot had touched. Jose looked down, and only Panchito slapping a hand over his beak kept back a yell.

Daisy had her hands up, and was trying to... strangle herself?!

“Enough questions! Bring the prince and the genie to me NOW, before their lives are forfeit!”

~*~

Donald made a whispering shushing noise. “It's all right. Everything's going to be okay now. Because...” He leaned in, voice dark yet delicate at the same time.

“I'm going to give you what you've always wanted.” His hands moved from Daisy's cheek to her neck.

“I'm going to kill you!”

Chapter Text

Daisy had always expected herself to die alone, perhaps in some vast wasteland where she had wandered off and couldn't find anymore people to con. Suffice to say, this was merely one of the shocks she was going through as Donald's iron fingers gripped her throat, piercing her skin, and crushing her voice-box. Screaming was impossible, and she gagged while frantically trying to pull him off, finding no strength in her hands. “S-stop...stop! Stop it! Donald, please!”

“This is what you wanted, RIIIIIIIIGHT?!” Donald's quacky voice was now demonic and dark, his beak curved into a twisted grin with fangs sticking out in bizarre angles. “All you ever do is hurt people, and you hate yourself for it! You can't trust anyone, because no one has ever trusted you! That Eye wasn't a gift, it was a curse! Your whole tribe deserved to be wiped out!”

Now the other crew-members popped up alongside Donald, but they were hideous creatures with deformed faces and maniacal grins, reaching out with their own hands to join in strangling her. Daisy could feel hot tears flowing from her bulging eyes. “That's... not... true!” But even this was a lie, and she knew it, she hated herself, hated the Eye, hated her family for having this cursed blood, hated so deep and maliciously that it eradicated all goodness she ever had.

“You've always been able to see other people's secrets, and when everyone learned that, you were chased out of every village!”
“You do nothing but cause pain to everyone! You've always known it! You want to stop, but you can't, because you don't have a real heart!”
“SO YOU JUST SHOULD JUST GIVE UP AND DIE, AND THAT WILL HELP EVERYONE!”
“GIVE UP AND DIE!
“GIVE UP AND DIE!”
“GIVE! UP! AND! DIE!”

The voices continued shouting the horrible mantra, and Daisy was finding it harder to disagree. She was a monster, and in all of Scheherazade's stories, the evil monsters were killed. Maybe everyone would be better off if she was gone for good. She'd said such a terrible thing to Donald about his family, and there was nothing she could ever do or say to make up for it. Had she been looking for a way out of the crew the entire time – or a way out of the world? She was always alone, and had always accepted it, and so in turn pushed away anyone who could dare change that. She just wanted to stop hurting people. She just wanted to stop hurting herself.

In the end... she just wanted everything to stop -

~*~

“Stop, Daisy!” Jose immediately jettisoned the plan he and Panchito had silently made, kneeling by Daisy's side and trying to pry her hands away from her throat. “Wake up! Daisy, wake up! Come on!” He slapped her hard across the cheek, but even that wouldn't stop her, as her once peaceful smile was now open in a silent cry for help.

Lotus Blossom whipped around, startled by the noise. “What the... why aren't you two asleep?!”

Panchito jumped ahead, aiming his pistols at her pretty face. “Undo your magic, thief! Free my friends right now!”

The booming, evil voice from the dark orb was now even more furious. “You damned woman, you were supposed to make them all look at the glass!”

“Hey, this is NOT on me!” Lotus began to fish for the same piece of glass from before in her sleeve. “You said once they all looked at, they're down for the count! You tell me why these two aren't in dreamland!” She found what she was looking for, and suddenly held out her hand, revealing a small piece of glass that was held in a golden frame, shutting her eyes for a brief moment.

Nothing happened.

Panchito blinked. “This is an improper time to show off your new monocle!” Jose, meanwhile, had managed to rip Daisy's hands off her neck, and had to pin them down at her sides to keep her from trying again.

Lotus paused, then shook the glass, even tapping it with her finger, all while making sure not to look directly at it. “This isn't a monocle, it's glass from the cave! You're supposed to be trapped within your greatest desires and worst fears about yourself! Everyone has them, so... get to collapsing, already!”

Panchito gave this some thought. “Worst fears? Hey, Jose, do I have a worst fear?”

“Panchito, my one and only, surely you would have told me such a thing!”

“Ah, yes, very true. I know I can always count on you, my loyal compadre!”

The orb began to shake in anger, which Lotus ignored, too stupefied by what she was hearing. “Come on! Everyone has doubts about themselves! Don't either of you have any tragic backstories? Any character arcs to develop? There has to be something about yourself you hate! Something that eats at you morning, noon, and night! There isn't a single person in the world who is content with themselves!”

Again, Panchito took a moment to consider things, and then shrugged. “Nah. I'm pretty okay with myself.”

“And I am also having little to no problems with my life, aside from my dear friend trying to join the afterlife,” said Jose while trying to peel Daisy's hands from her neck.

Lotus dropped her arm in disbelief. Perhaps this was where some flowery elaborate sentence about Panchito and Jose's mindset would go, but the truth of the matter was that they were not terribly complicated birds. Sure, they had their desires, as all do, but there was no great driving need behind them. They were just happy chappies with snappy serapes. Lotus, on the other hand, didn't believe that at all, and decided they were merely too stupid to have any fears. “Well, I'm blaming this on you.” She waved a hand toward the orb. “Can't pull off a successful heist without the right intel.”

“SILENCE, ALL OF YOU!” the voice roared, now sounding so beastly that even Lotus was quick to back up. “If you two fools won't die by the hand of the cave, I'll take care of you myself! And you, servant, you WILL bring the boy and the genie to me!” Lotus was about to take issue with being called “servant”, but that seemed very inconsequential when a different snarl came from the portal. Panchito recognized it as one of the shadow monsters that had been sent after them before. This one stomped with hard, heavy feet, taking the shape of an elephant as warped by the darkest of magics.

Panchito cocked his guns, ready to fight to free his friends. “Jose, we can take on this over-grown pachyderm!”

“Panchito, while I am both impressed by your valor and vocabulary, we have another problem!” Jose's usually calm demeanor began to unravel further, because now Donald was moving his arms, and it was a good guess where his hands were going!

~*~

How many members of his family had Donald met by now? He had lost track, but it wasn't important. He'd get to see them again, sure enough. His sister happily trailed alongside him, rattling off names and titles and pieces of history. Donald nodded along, shaking hands and exchanging hugs, but as he continued to meet and greet, he found he could hardly get a word in otherwise. Didn't they want to know what happened to him? The life he led before meeting him? How he was finally freed from his prison of false princehood by... by...?

He'd been about to shake the hand of yet another cousin, but suddenly yanked his hand, catching his breath. The blonde-haired man tilted his head, and Donald felt hundreds of eyes on him. “I-I'm sorry!” Donald sputtered out, feeling a little silly. “It's just... I don't know why, but, somehow, I forgot... my friends!” He let out a relieved laugh, glad he could remember those dear to him. “You'll want to meet them too! They're the ones who've helped me through so much! They're going to love you guys.” At first, he didn't notice the water under his feet, or that it began to rise to his ankles. “You could... you could kind of say they're my other family!”

“What a stupid thing to say,” his sister said, before suddenly shoving him hard into the water.

Donald fell face first, sputtering about and trying to sit up. “HEY! What's the big...” But as he looked around at his family, their formerly cherubic smiles were now gone, replaced with wretched scowls. “... idea...?”

“This is your family,” his sister now loomed over him, tall and imposing. “Not those misfits who took pity on a pathetic soul.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, you're misunderstanding things!” Donald tried to back up, but now the family members were forming a tighter circle like a white cage. “I don't love you any less than I love them!”

“Love?” She repeated, tilting her head at an unnatural angle, and Donald suddenly found the water rising higher and higher. “What in the world does someone like you know about love? You were raised by a man who only cared about money! You're no better than an insipid child, but even children are braver than you are! You never even wanted to find us!”

Donald felt the now cold hands of his uncles and cousins start trying to pin him down under the water, and he screamed, trying to keep his head above water. “Th-that's-that's not true! I always wanted to find my family! But – But Mickey – he needs help, he-”

“He's nothing more than an excuse!” Now she was on her knees in front of him, grabbing him by the collar of his robes. “You cling to him to make sure you never have to look reality in the face! You're a monster, a freak! You don't know how to love, so you stick to anyone who even looks at you kindly! YOU WERE BETTER OFF UNDER GLOMGOLD'S THUMB! YOU WERE BETTER OFF NEVER BEING BORN!”

Donald gasped for air, but he was forced underwater, his lungs filling up. Even with his head submerged, he could hear all of their cruel taunts, and all the cruel truth behind them. He was scared, so scared, of the life he would lead once Mickey found his parents and left the crew behind. How could Donald understand the concept of love and family when he had been denied both since birth? Was his family better off never finding him? Was the entire world better off if he never existed?

Maybe... Maybe he should just stop fighting -

~*~

“Fight it off, Donald!” Jose pleaded, needing to use all of his strength to keep Donald's arms pinned down. “You can do this, my friend, I know it! You have to hear me!”

Everyone else was having difficulty hearing Jose, as Panchito and the monster he was fighting were making plenty of noise. Panchito had tamed many a wild horse in his younger days, but trying to wrangle a phantom elephant was a new one. He had used up all of his bullets trying to make the thing back away, before grabbing the massively long trunk and climbing atop its head. Now it was a fierce battle to steer the monster away from his sleeping friends, which was proving more and more challenging by the second. It rammed itself into the walls of the caves, causing the rocks above to come tumbling below.

Lotus was pressed to one wall, a few bored glowworms falling into her hair. “If that keeps up, the entire cave will collapse!”

“Grab the prince and the genie!” the dark voice bellowed, unconcerned with anything else. “If you want your promised fortune, then you will do as I have commanded! You won't see a single coin unless you bring forth what you promised!”

“You better triple the price, boss!” Lotus narrowly dodged a hard swing of the elephant's trunk. “Make it quadruple! Risking my life was never part of the deal! Some things are worth more than money!”

“I'll pay you ten times the agreed amount if you JUST DO WHAT I DEMAND!”

Well, some things were worth more than money, but that was a lot of money. Lotus pried herself off the wall and managed to slide over to the bodies, but her eyes widened when she saw the state Mickey was in. “And I'm guessing the deal's broken if Big Ears is also broken!” She reached down to try and stop Mickey's moving arms...

~*~

It was a great and glorious celebration! A banquet that would never end! Mickey led his friends and family in song again, with the entire palace full of people and the world full of joy. His father and mother, safe and sound, and Mickey without a title that had been unwillingly attached to him all his life. When the chorus finished, Mickey plopped into his seat, exhausted from fun and full of his favorite foods. As he tried to catch his breath, his father let out another merry laugh. “So, son of ours, have you thought what you wish to be known as?”

Mickey blinked, and then scratched his head. “Huh... I hadn't really thought that part out yet. I guess I should be known as something, if I'm not going to be the Son of Scheherazade anymore.”

“Maybe something like, Hero of the Desert?” Goofy offered.
“Legendary Pursuer of the Lost?” Daisy suggested.
Minnie sat comfortably in Mickey's lap, snuggling up. “How about, Husband of Minnie?”

Mickey felt his cheeks grow warm, and he chuckled nervously. “Aw, shucks... Those are all pretty good ones, I guess!”

“I have the perfect idea,” Scheherazade rose from her seat, approaching Mickey's side and fitting something in his hand. He assumed it was another goblet of drink. “From henceforth, you shall be known as Mickey... the Murderer.”

Mickey jerked upright in his seat. “What?!” It was then what he saw what had been placed in his hand – his sword, soaked in blood. He tried to throw it out of his hand, but his fingers wouldn't release the handle. He felt Minnie drop from his lap and onto the floor, and when he turned his head, he saw her lying motionless, a horrific cut on her neck. Mickey screamed, and screamed more as he saw everyone in the palace dead, save for his parents – Goofy, the crew, his servants, even Pete, their bodies strewn about with the same wounds, the banquet food rotting and drawing flies and the stench of blood inescapable. Mickey fumbled out of his seat, hitting the stained rug, eyes hot with tears. “Th-This isn't real! I didn't do this! I DIDN'T DO THIS!”

“It's inevitable, isn't it?” His mother asked, her pleasant voice now dripping with disdain. Droplets of blood began to dribble from her neck. “You may try to stop being my child, but you will always be your father's son. You carry his anger, and there's no denying your destiny.”

“No! I'm not like him! Pa, he, he changed! I just – I have to control my anger! I will, I swear it!” No matter how hard he tried to pull the sword from his hand, it wouldn't leave. Why did he want a sword so badly in the first place? Because, deep down, he wanted to fight? To hurt? To kill? “No! No, I just wanted to defend myself! I just wanted to be my own person!”

“And what good is being just you?” His father was behind Mickey now, his shadow dark and dangerous. “You who hurt others time and time again? What good is controlling your anger after it's already happened? You're a lost cause, you never should have left the palace. If you aren't the Son of Scheherazade, the life you are isn't worth living! ”

Mickey's arm trembled, and he found his own sword being pressed into his neck – in the exact place where the servant had tried so many years ago -

“IT'S YOUR FAULT THE PHANTOM PRINCE TOOK US, SO YOU COULD BE USED AS A PAWN!”
“IT'S YOUR FAULT MINNIE IS SUFFERING AND NO ONE CAN GO HOME!”
“IT'S YOUR FAULT THAT YOUR ANGER WILL DESTROY EVERYONE!"
“EVERYTHING IS YOUR FAULT!”

Mickey's tears rolled down his face, and he had never been more afraid in his life – what was he without the title he loathed? A murderous madman who couldn't be stopped? A stupid fool who kept trying to save everyone without seeing if they wanted to be saved? Had the grief-stricken servant been right to end things when he was a child? Why had he even been born?

Why did he think he had a right to live, why -

~*~

“Why is this happening?!” Jose at this point knew full well why, but stress often causes people to ask silly questions. Right now he was very stressed, as he was trying to use every limb to prevent his friends from strangling themselves, which now included Goofy, who was tormented by a wife and son who didn't know him because he loved adventure more than them, and Horace with Clarabelle, whose beloved Master berated them about their idiocy and who were only using him as a distraction to avoid facing their real problems. The parrot was being stretched thin, and it was a losing battle. “I can't keep this up! Lotus Blossom, you have to break them out of their trance! I beg of you!”

“I don't know how!” Lotus was amazed how strong little Mickey was, as it was a real struggle to keep him pinned down. “I didn't ask for details when I got into this plot! Listen, once I broke out prison, this stupid orb found me, and told me what to do and where to go! He offered me more money than I'd ever steal in my life! All the big guy said was not to look at the glass and I'd be fine!”

“Only I have the spells to break them free,” the dark voice sneered, “And I will only use them once I have the prince and the genie! Do you fools have any idea what you're up against? No one has the willpower to break through the Cave of Wants! It's taken thousands of lives, and they will be next!”

“That can't be true!” But even as Jose said it, he was getting a sick feeling that it could be true. He wanted desperately to believe in his companions, but every ticking second was showing that the voice was right. Right at that moment, the monster bucked hard enough to send Panchito flying, and he landed hard on his back near Jose. “Panchito!” He jumped off his allies to rush to his fallen friend, trying to help him sit up. “Panchito, you can't keep fighting that thing, you're out of ammo! It's going to kill you!”

“It's going to kill all of us if we don't do something!” Panchito said after wincing, his body aching with pain. “I refuse to believe they can't fight this! I know at least one of them can pull through! They are warriors!” He staggered to his feet, his chest heaving with pained breath. “They've gone through so much, and I've been honored to fight alongside them! If need be, I'll be honored to die defending them! I will never stop believing in my friends!” He looked down at Jose, and offered his hand with a tired smile. “What say you, Jose Carioca?”

Jose shook his head, but smiled all the same. “Common sense has never been your good friend, Panchito Pistoles... but I've always been yours.” He took Panchito's hand and rose to his feet, holding out his umbrella. “We are the Three Caballeros! No matter where he goes-”

“The one, two, and three goes!” Panchito squeezed Jose's hand tightly, and when they broke their tender embrace, they charged for the monster, ready to battle with every last ounce of strength they had. Their hearts burned, knowing that surely in one of their friends, they were fighting too!

~*~

Cave? What cave? There was no cave to speak of here. The sun was shining down softly on a pair of lovers atop a flowery hill, the breeze calm and the world quiet. Minnie was safe in Mickey's arms, sighing in contentment, not wanting to leave this embrace for anything. Her eyes stayed closed, her back resting on his chest, and every so often, she'd say, “Please say it again.”

And he would comply each time, “I love you.”

It was amazing what true happiness three simple words brought. Minnie smiled, nuzzling her cheek affectionately to his. They didn't need anything but each other, and so she thought of nothing but him. She couldn't remember anything but him. She lifted her head, touching his soft cheek. “I want to be like this forever,” she murmured, even if she did sort of miss the way he'd blush so hard it'd touch his ears, or his stammering as if his words had fallen down the stairs. But... maybe it was better this way. Better for him to be confident in all he said and did.

“Don't worry,” Mickey chuckled sweetly, “it will be. It'll always be like this, forever and ever. I'll never let you go.”

Minnie pulled back, ready to place yet another dear kiss on his lips, when she saw that the golden mark on his neck was gone. She blinked, blinked twice, her mind fuzzy. “Where... where did the scar go?”

“Oh, that?” Mickey shrugged one shoulder, dismissive. He raised his hand to link with her fingers. “I didn't really need it anymore. After all, it's just as I said, I'll never let you go... so I'll never wish you free.”

Did she – did she hear right? Minnie tried to pull her hand back – and saw that the cuff on her wrist, usually golden and baring her and her Master's names, were now gray and dirty, with a long, unending chain attached. “What...?” She looked at her other wrist, and it was exactly the same here. “What are...”

“You don't ever have to worry about being useless again,” Mickey's charming smile grew pointed and devilish. “Because I'll bind you to me until the day I die! Isn't that the purpose of a genie?”

“You-” Minnie scrambled to get out of his lap, and when she did, she saw her ankles also chained. “Y-You're not my Master! Let me go!” She pulled at the chains, but they wouldn't budge, the grass and flowers dying.

“Of course I'm your Master, you refuse to call me anything else!” Mickey stood up, endless chains flowing from his empty hands. “Because you know you can't be anything more than a genie! You've been doing this for thousands of years! You think you could ever survive being a mortal? You can't even say my name!”

“That's – that's not...” Minnie tried to crawl on her hands and knees away from Mickey – Master – whatever this was – but the sun was being blocked out by prison bars now as high as the heavens. “I'm just... I'm just scared! It's all I've ever known!”

“So why should anything change? You can't do anything else! Can you cook? Can you clean? Can you even care about another person? HOW CAN YOU EVEN SAY YOU'RE REAL? DO YOU HAVE A HEART? DO YOU HAVE A SOUL?” Now the beast with her beloved's form threw a chain at her neck, and it wrapped around like a deadly snake. “JUST STAY A SLAVE FOREVER! IT'S WHAT YOU ALWAYS WANTED!”

Mickey held the chain in both hands, squeezing it around Minnie's throat. She tried to yell, tried to cry, and the weight of his words weighed heavier than all the chains now wrapping around every part of her body. Every step they got closer to saving Mickey's parents was a step towards her being a mortal, and facing all the consequences of it. How could a normal woman be of help to a prince? She wasn't like other people, she wasn't even a person. Wouldn't it be best for Mickey, best for everyone, if she just stayed in slavery?

Her Master – Mickey, Mortimer, all the ones she had served in her long life – pulled tighter and tighter, mockingly chanting the same words over and over.

“THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED! THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED! THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED!”

It would be best for everyone, best for the crew, best for all who rode that flying ship, that strange ship that didn't belong in the sea...

… And... somehow... that stayed with her. Because, in all the long, long, long years of torment and servitude...

“I've... never... seen... the... ocean...” Minnie breathed each word, opening her eyes.

“THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED!”

“I've... never seen the ocean...” Minnie repeated, her words stronger.

“THIS IS WHAT YOU -

“I want to see the ocean!” Minnie screamed, screamed as loudly as her lungs would allow, screamed with every century, every year, every day she ever had to give up her dreams to serve someone else. “YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT I WANT!” Her fingers found the strength to move, and they tried to slide under the chain on her neck, pulling and yanking. “It's been so hard... it's been so lonely... this isn't a life anyone should have! No one deserves to be a slave!” Inch by inch, the chains began to loosen. “But if I really thought I was better off this way... I wouldn't keep waking up! I wouldn't keep living! Even if I never understood before... a part of me has always... always... always been dreaming of freedom!”

The beast of her fears tried to tighten her prison again, but she slammed her forehead into his, throwing him off her body. “I don't deserve this life! Even if I am scared... even if I don't know what I'll do without my powers... Even if I can't help the person who means the most to me...” She would always be scared, but her love, her hope, her will, would triumph. If she didn't know the answers now, it didn't mean they'd never be found. “I won't run away! Whatever comes next, I'll face it! This is my life! Not for the crew, not even for him... but for myself! I WANT MY FREEDOM!”

“I WANT TO BE FREE!”

And with a huge, gulping gasp, she was – her body thrusting upward, she bolted upright, panting hard for air. Minnie was back in the cave, surrounded by her suffering friends. She touched her neck, and felt no chain. “What the...” But there was clearly no time to question much of anything. A shadowy monster was thundering towards Panchito, who couldn't get up in time, Jose having fallen some feet away. Minnie sprang up, running as fast as she could, and tackled Panchito away just in time to avoid being stomped.

Panchito landed on his back, and stared up at his heroine. “... Minnie? Oh, Minnie, you're not trying to off yourself! I am so relieved!”

“And I am so confused!” Minnie said right back, now seeing Lotus trying in vain to save Mickey, and the orb spewing smoke. “Okay, I know she had something to do with this, but what else?!”

Panchito managed to get into a sitting position, using his empty pistol as a cane. “That orb must belong to the Phantom Prince! That's what kidnapped Mickey's poor parents before! And now they're trying to take him and you! And if we don't find a way to wake everyone up, they're all going to die! The Phantom Prince said he'd only wake you and Mickey up, once he got his hands on you! And the cave might be collapsing! … But it's still nice to see you.”

That was a lot of information to get in fifteen seconds, and time was running out for everyone. They couldn't afford to wait and see if the others would find similar revelations Minnie had. “Mickey... he must need Mickey to force Lady Scheherazade to work for him!” And it didn't take a genius to know why anyone would want a genie.

“Hey, you're saying his name now! Good for you!”

Ignoring Panchito's ill-timed compliment, Minnie stood up, thinking fast. She had only one chance, and one idea, but it was time to put actual trust in herself. She was going to be free someday – not because she earned it, but because she deserved it, as all living things deserve to be. The Phantom Prince wouldn't stop what was rightfully hers – a life! “This ends here and now!” She bolted off, running around the monster's legs, running faster than it could, jumping around the falling rocks and debris. With her accumulated speed, she took a leap of faith, figuratively and literally, kicking Lotus right off her Master's body. “That's for so many things, I've lost count!”

Lotus fell on her side, the glass bit rolling out of her sleeve. “Oof... that's fair.”

Minnie pulled Mickey's sword out of his scabbard, and slammed it down hard on the glass piece, breaking it into dust. It didn't wake everyone, but now it couldn't be used to hurt anyone else. She could hear the monster approaching, and she stood in front of her friends, brandishing the sword. “Hear me, Phantom Prince! I am Lady Minerva of the Lamp, Minnie to those who love me! You need Mickey alive for your plan to work, but I'm not going to let you have him! He'd rather die than be used as a weapon against his parents, and that's exactly what's going to happen if you don't undo the spell right now on everyone!” She thrust her sword in the direction of the rampaging monster. “Either your whole plan falls apart right now, or you do something right for once and set them free!”

The monster continued to stampede forward – Jose covered his eyes, as did Panchito albeit letting his fingers slip a bit – but just as it would have stomped Minnie – it stopped. Abruptly. It looked down at her, its presence dwarfing her already small stature. “You lie,” the Phantom Prince said, the quietest he'd ever been. “I've seen your trials, I've seen your bond. Your words are bold, but your heart is weak.” There was odd assurance in his words, Panchito and Jose both noted, as if this was something he was very sure of. As if this was not the first time they'd met. The monster raised one large foot, ready to stomp, ready to force her back and make her beg for mercy.

Minnie did lower the sword, but not out of submission. No, now the sword was turned toward her Master as he lay in his haunted dreams, his eyes wide with untold horrors and his fingers secure around his throat. Minnie couldn't imagine the torture he was enduring, her own still fresh in her memories. Of course she wasn't going to kill him – of course this was a bluff – of course, of course, of course, she told herself, in order to drown a thought that was more terrifying than the prison she recently escaped. She had fought so hard, against the mirror dream and herself, to be free and independent – and here she was, making a choice all on her own, and what if – what if – what if her love for Mickey wasn't strong enough to stay her hand? This felt like an eternity, but only seconds passed, each one making the decision more difficult. But she grit her teeth. She wouldn't give in to tears.

“Can you really afford the time to test me?” Minnie didn't move, didn't shake, didn't blink. The sword was pointed above Mickey's chest, above his beating heart.“Wake.” Jose tried to get to his feet, surely she wouldn't - “Them.” Panchito was making the same scramble, was she out of her mind - “Up.” The sword was raised high - “Now.” And then thrust down -

And then the orb began to float in the air, the smog beginning to swirl back inside, the portal vanishing. Minnie yanked the sword back, holding it close as she caught her breath. The monster dissolved into black ash, and a hidden wind blew it across the fallen heroes – who all began to jump into life. There were many startled cries, rubbing of throats, Horace and Clarabelle held each other while nearly crying with Goofy joining in a group hug. Jose and Panchito flew to Donald, tackling him back down with hugs and kisses and shouts of celebration, Daisy was struggling to process what was real and what wasn't, and Mickey threw himself at Minnie's back, holding her tight. “Minnie! You're alive! Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness, you're all alive! I could just kiss you!” A swift, hard pause. “I mean, not like – you know – not that I wouldn't want - why are you holding my sword?”

While Minnie was grateful to hear Mickey's charmingly embarrassing misdirection, the day was not yet over. “Because this isn't done.”

“Huh?” Mickey lifted his head, and saw the floating orb – the smog it had collected was now rearranging itself to take on a solid form, a young man with a thin mustache, now holding the orb in his left hand, a hood over his head, his body continuously moving and shifting with the smoke. Mickey's eyes widened as he understood, letting go of Minnie so he could stand by her side. “You're... the Phantom Prince.”

“In the flesh, so to speak.” The Phantom Prince snorted at his own joke. “You surprise me, genie... to think you've changed after all these years. But you will learn your place.”

“Give me back my parents!” Mickey demanded, and soon he was joined at all his sides with his friends, each one willing to bring a brand new fight. “Your plan will never work! Your kingdom is dead, and my mother will never help you revive it! And we'll never stop fighting you! No matter what you throw at us, we'll never give up!”

“Even if you don't know where the final piece of the map lies?” The Phantom Prince asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Admittedly, that did knock the wind out of Mickey's sails briefly. “... Was kind of hoping you didn't know about that...” He shook his head, trying to restart the heroic speech. “We'll never stop looking for it, even if we have to go all around the world!”

“That won't be necessary,” The Phantom Prince waved a hand around the orb, turning it momentarily into a globe. “It's located in the fishing town of Alnihayat. It should only take you a few days to fly there.”

Now the sails, anchor, and entire boat of Mickey had the wind soundly knocked out of them. “Uh. Isn't... part of the whole 'evil villain' bit that you're not supposed to help us?”

The Phantom Prince snorted. “By helping you, I am helping myself. Why bother continuing to drag you to me if you're coming to me already?”

“This couldn't be a more obvious trap if he held up a big sign that said TRAP,” Horace whispered.

“No,” Minnie said, taking a step forward, sword still in hand. “I think he's telling the truth... he doesn't have a choice.”

Daisy leaned in closer to the group. “Did someone replace Minnie while I was out?”

“I've been thinking a lot about your plan, Phantom Prince,” Minnie continued, her sword pointed at his chest. “There's been so much of it that doesn't make sense... unless you look at things a certain way. But this entire scheme today proved it once and for all. You've had your monsters, your minions, and some bimbo thief-”

“Okay, harsh.”

“- Do all your work for you, and now you're practically giving the map on a silver platter. You waited all this time to kidnap Lady Scheherazade, her stories were legendary before Mickey was born. I don't think it was just good timing – I think it's the opposite... you're running out of time!”

Mickey was floored at the bravery Minnie was displaying, and it was only ignored once the pieces began to connect in his own mind. “Hey, I think I know what she's getting at! You're getting weaker! Whatever magic you've done to yourself, it's taken its toll! You're not the Phantom Prince because no one knows who you are... you're literally becoming a phantom yourself! And soon you'll be nothing but smoke and ash, just like your dead monsters!”

The Phantom Prince said nothing at first, his fingers curling around the orb. But even with his body slightly translucent, it was coming clear he was trembling with rage. Dark red eyes shone out from under the hood, and his voice began to thunder. “Such clever boys and girls you think you are... But in the end, I still have the Sultan and Sultana. Even at my weakest, I am still more powerful than you can ever dare to dream! I will have my kingdom restored, and I will be the rightful ruler! I AM THE PHANTOM PRINCE, AND YOU ARE NOTHING BUT THE STEPPING STONES TO MY ETERNAL GLORY!”

With this last blasphemous boast, the orb split open, and powerful dark magic struck out into the caves, slamming hard into the stone surrounding them – the walls began to crack, dust began to fall, the ground underneath their feet trembled, and there was a dull roar beginning to echo throughout the caverns.

“The cave's coming down on us!” Mickey declared, grabbing Minnie by the wrist. “Everybody out, NOW!” Goofy scooped up Lotus into his arms, and the entire crew headed back towards the entrance, the sunlight now free from the clouds. Daisy thought she heard Donald say something, or make a noise, perhaps he tripped, but there was no chance to see if he was all right. The cave was collapsing right behind them, and with one last, final, earth-shattering blow, it toppled down and sent out a harsh wind of dust and debris. Outside, the group fell over, the earth underneath them having moved due to how large the once mighty cave had been. Once the noise had stopped, Mickey dared to lift his head. “Maybe... next time... we call the magic bad guy weak... when we're outside.”

Goofy sat up, trying to do a mental count. “Everyone make it out okay?” One, two, three, four... wait...

Jose knocked some dirt off his hat. “Donald? Where is Donald?” Heads turned, but indeed, there was no sign of the bird.

Daisy sighed, getting on her feet. “Okay, before we all lose our heads, he's fine. Guy is way too dumb to die. Just give me a second to find him with my Eye, all right?” With a flourish of her hands, she closed her eyes...

… and saw darkness. Nothing.

Daisy slowly opened her eyes. “I... I didn't see anything,” she said slowly, unable to hear the words she was saying.

“What do you mean, you didn't see anything?!” Mickey demanded. “It's all the All-Seeing-Eye, it's supposed to be All-Seeing!”

“Shut up, I know what it's called!” Daisy hissed, before closing her eyes and trying again. Darkness. Nothing. Darkness Nothing. “No, no, no no no no...” If there was nothing to see, then that could only mean - “Noooo, no no no NO!” That the person she was trying to find was - “NO! NO NO NO NOOOOO!” Gods damn it all, her last words to him couldn't have been a mockery of his family! To rip his heart in two! “DONALD!” She threw herself at the remaining pile of rubble, trying to shove away the rocks. “DONALD, YOU CAN'T DO THIS! YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO BE THERE FOR ME, SO YOU CAN'T DO THIS!” He wasn't allowed to leave her! He wasn't allowed to be gone without a goodbye, a proper goodbye, she was crying and sobbing and this was worse than any stupid glass dream! “DONALD!”

The other members of the crew, save Goofy, began to pale and gasp in terrible understanding. Of course, Goofy paid attention to things no one else did, like moving sand. As the rest of the crew joined in on the desperate digging, Goofy gently set Lotus aside, stood up, brushed down his pants, and headed to a strange lump in the sand.

“DONALD!” Daisy screamed again, her fingers becoming dirty and bloody as she dug through the remains, even digging through the dirt even if that was a mad place to search. “DONALD, PLEASE! Please ... I want to wake up! The dream has to be over now! Everything's supposed to be okay now!”

Goofy stuck his hand in the lump, grabbed the softness within, and yanked it out. He then returned to the group, setting it down, dusted it off, and began tapping everyone on the shoulders one by one.

Daisy made a retching noise, unable to see anything anymore, Eye or not, with how hard she was crying. “I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it... I didn't mean any of those things... Please, don't... don't go... I'm sorry...”

“Apology accepted.”

Daisy stopped, and then whipped her head back so hard the snake in her hair flew a few inches off into a rock, sitting up dizzily. There stood Donald, looking quite amused, his entire body covered in mud and dirt. He wiggled his fingers. “Hello.”

Daisy's relief was muted by her anger and humiliation. “... WHERE THE HECK WERE YOU?!” She grabbed a fistful of pebbles, ready to throw them.

“I tripped,” Donald said, “And I knew if I got up I wouldn't make it out in time. So,” he held up one finger, letting lightning swirl around it. “I used my powers like a shield and let it fall on me. Neat, eh?” He managed to dodge the pebbles.

“NEAT?!” Daisy shrieked, ready to strangle Donald herself in place of the glass replicas. “My Eye couldn't see you!”

“Well, yeah, I got dirt in my eye.” Donald pointed at his eyes, “And it hurt, so I shut them. You probably just saw the insides of my eyelids. But!” he finished with a clap. “More importantly! Sooomebody caaares~!”

Daisy froze, now acutely aware of all the knowing eyes on her, each one more gleeful than the last. “... No, I don't. Nooo, I don't. Stop looking at me like that!”

“Daisy's got a heee-aaart!” Clarabelle sang, and Horace joined in, the two of them swaying and singing. “Daisy's got a heee-aaart!”

“SHUT UP! I do not!” Daisy huffed, stomping her heels into the ground. “I am an unfeeling monster! I lie and trick and use people for tools! I don't like anybody! QUIT SINGING THAT STUPID SONG!”

“Aw, what nice little lies,” Donald teased, pulling Daisy into a hug and patting her head. “There, there. Welcome to the world of caring.”

“You guys suck,” Daisy mumbled into Donald's chest, lying again.

Mickey rolled his eyes, taking his sword back from Minnie. “As exciting as the last couple of minutes have been, we do have another problem on our hands... with the cave like this now, how are we supposed to find the map piece? It'll take forever to dig it out!”

Lotus stretched her arms as she stood up, reaching for one last thing in her sleeve. “About that... any good thief always has a back-up plan.” She pulled out a familiar piece of paper. “And I am a very good thief.”

Minnie's jaw hit the ground, all her newfound dignity and respect gone. “You... had that piece of the map with you... the entire time?!” She hated this woman! She hated this woman so much!!!

“I found it in there, and didn't tell the big guy,” Lotus said as she handed over the piece to a stunned Mickey. “He offered me a fortune to trade you guys, but I always make it a habit to keep secrets from my employers. If you're working for a bad guy, you have to expect bad things might happen to you too. This make us even, Big Ears?”

Mickey slowly took the piece from her fingers. “You... are a horrible person. You have to know that.”

Lotus shrugged, not really caring. “The world's not always so black and white. Being gray can be the most fun. But before you guys head out on the next leg of your journey, I got one last question... why doesn't that Phantom guy just tell you where his lost kingdom is, instead of telling you where the next piece of the map is? Won't it take longer to find the kingdom itself?”

Mickey held up the third piece of the map in the sunlight. Like the other two, the words were difficult to read, the lines didn't make sense, and it didn't seem to fit in any direction with the others. He needed to think like clever Minnie. Flip it around... If the Phantom wasn't taking them to the kingdom, but to the map, it was because...

“It's because... this map isn't a map at all! We're not looking for pieces of a map – we're looking for pieces of a spell!”

Chapter Text

The crew bid goodbye and good riddance to Lotus Blossom, after she rejected Mickey's rather generous offer to drop her off at the nearest town – as she correctly guessed that Mickey planned to drop her into the first jail cell he could find – and they were off to the fishing town of Alnihayat. Mickey's guess about the map was, for now, still only a guess, as he had only one small piece of proof. No matter how you arranged the three pieces, they didn't fit in any map-like shape. Instead, as Mickey explained to the crew as he laid out the pieces in his room, they were shaped more like book pages. They appeared to fit together better when one was put on top of the other, and there was an old, sticky substance to the edges that could have been part of a book's binding. They still couldn't read a word of it, but Mickey figured they might not have to – that with the final piece, the spell would be complete, as per the Phantom Prince's plan.

But they could only tackle one problem at a time, and right now that was finding the final piece itself. Everyone was grateful to get back to that chase, as the inner demons of the Cave of Wants had tormented their minds plenty, and boy did they need a distraction. Nobody talked about what they saw, and nobody wanted to think about it, Mickey most of all. As disturbing as the whole thing had been, there had been one damming, undeniable thought he couldn't put away.

What good is controlling your anger after it's already happened?

He could be sorry all he wanted for his actions, and do his best to avoid losing his temper in the first place, but both of those meant squat if he was still continuing to hurt people. He needed to find a way to control himself once his anger was at its highest, and he suspected that his eventual final face-off with the Phantom Prince would make him the angriest he'd ever been. What to do, what to do...?

“Alnihayat is a pretty small town,” Goofy explained that day, when they were laying anchor to the sand and getting ready to depart. “And the locals are friendly, so we shouldn't have any trouble. No legends, no monsters, this town is as normal as normal can be.”

“No town is that normal,” Horace countered with a grumble. “It's probably got some deep dark secret that will pop open the second we step foot inside.”

Clarabelle punched his shoulder. “Oh, you're just upset Lotus stole your wallet.”

“Who steals a wallet from a guy trying to kill himself?!”

Minnie bit her lower lip as she watched everyone talk and discuss who would split off where. Truthfully, she had a slight ulterior motive – when she first heard the words “fishing town”, she had a fair assumption that the ocean would be there, and as someone who had never seen it, she felt an itch to take a look, especially after her revelation within the cave. It felt selfish to ask this, though, as this was a mission, but on the other hand, maybe the map piece was on the beach. Her newfound independence was a shaky thing, but it became stronger each time she used it. She opened her mouth -

“Can I take the beach?” Mickey asked, his voice tingling with excitement. “I've never seen the ocean before!” He then turned to Minnie, oblivious as always. “How about you, Minnie?”

Her first instinct was to say of course master, yes master, whatever you say master, oh happy day, her and Mickey were completely in sync! “I... I haven't seen it either, Ma... Mickey.” It had also been a struggle to say his name instead of his title, but this hadn't gone unnoticed. The first couple of days, it got proud smiles from everyone – save for Daisy, who always had to ruin things (“Aw, is the spice out of your relationship?”) and earned a good ponytail-yank from Mickey again. As she did it more and more the ship adjusted to it, but the one who kept smiling about it no matter what was Mickey. He grinned merrily, and there was an extra flick-flick-flick to his thin black tail. It was embarrassing, and even more embarrassing to admit to herself she enjoyed his reaction.

“Well!” Mickey slapped his hands on the table, unable to stop smiling. “That settles that! Me and Minnie will take the beach!”

“Why don't you take Pluto along with you?” Goofy suggested. “Poor pup's been cooped up here for so long, could use some time in the fresh air. I'll hang back today and guard the ship.”

Mickey's joy grew tenfold. “Aw, really? Thanks, Goofy! Why, I'll even take my flying carpet along, see if I can get it to work! I bet we'll find the last piece of the spell in no time flat!” Flashing one more gleeful grin to Minnie, he jogged off to his room, eager to tell Pluto and grab the carpet. In his room, after sharing the news with man's best friend, he rolled up the rug and tied it to Pluto who offered no complaint. After a few more minutes of planning, Mickey was ready to leave when he saw Donald standing in the doorway. “We're all set, Donald!”

“I figured,” Donald said, glancing this way and that before entering the room. Though Daisy had finally, reluctantly, shown she cared about others, she was still ready to tease and trick at the drop of a hat. Some conversations were better off private. “But I wanted to help you out before you go.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Help with what?”

Donald lowered his voice, one hand to the side of his mouth. “You and Minnie, going together to the beach, a sight neither of you have ever seen before... that's totally a date.”

Mickey's entire face turned crimson, and on impulse he began to flail, his heart skipping several beats. “W-what?! No! No it isn't! It's just a...” Then again, what did he know? He who avoided every sappy lovey-dovey moment with his parents whenever possible? “... Huh. Is it a date?” He glanced at Pluto, in case he had the answers, and the dog shrugged.

“I may not know much about much,” Donald conceded. “But this spells out a date to me. So you gotta make it count! Who knows when another good chance like this will come up? If you want to be Minnie's suitor instead of her Master, you gotta do three things to make this a good date!”

Mickey was ready to learn, but he had to ask. “How do you know what a good date is?”

“I've done my homework,” Donald said, leaving out that he had asked Goofy for advice, as he didn't trust Daisy to be entirely truthful, Horace and Clarabelle would have argued about it, and gods know what kind of musical number Jose and Panchito would have done. After all, Goofy had, somehow, charmed his fair share of women, even if some of it was purely by mistake. “And as long as you do these three things, you've set yourself up for future dates. Number one, you gotta make it enjoyable.”

“Makes sense,” Mickey replied, arms crossed and head tilted. “I'm sure there are lots of fun things we can do at the beach. That's the easy part.”

“Number two,” Donald continued. “You have to learn more about each other. That way, you make sure you're compatible!”

There was a bit of hesitance on Mickey's part about this. “I... guess so...” He didn't care to share his father's bloody history, even if it was to come up someday, and Mickey himself was seemingly very dull. He hadn't gone on any big adventures until he met Minnie, so what could he tell her? On the other side, there was plenty he still didn't know about Minnie. What kind of places had she been to? What kind of masters had she gone through? What were her favorite stories, what were her favorite teas, what were her favorite type of jewels he could reasonably buy to make into earrings – it was fair to say that Mickey wanted to know everything and anything about Minnie, no matter how obscure and tiny the detail. “So what's number three?” Was it a kiss? He hoped it was a kiss.

“Set up the future,” Donald answered, dashing Mickey's silly hopes. “That's what ties the first two together! If you can always find a way to have fun and learn more things about each other, that means you two can be together for life. So make plans for what to next! You gotta think of the big picture, what to do once we beat the Phantom Prince and get your parents back!”

“Oh. Is that all?” Mickey was surprised at this, as that detail had been with him for ages. “Shoot, she'll just come home with me and my folks to live in the palace. Then we can spoil her rotten and give her the life she's always wanted.” It was a perfect, fool-proof plan!

“Oookay...” Donald was reluctant to burst Mickey's bubble, but as he had made it one of his life goals to repay Mickey for all his kindness, it was for his friend's own good. “Sounds nice, really does, just one tiny detail missing... have you asked Minnie if that's what she's always wanted?”

If there was a facial equivalent for a wooden boat crashing into sharp rocks, that was Mickey's face right that second. As the boat broke into tiny splinters, so did Mickey's plan, which ultimately made him the fool. “Uhhhhhhh...” He dragged the sound out, feeling his entire body shrink smaller and smaller. Here he'd been trying to plan for Minnie's freedom and there he went snatching it away. “I... mean... I just... kind of assumed...” And how did that make him any different from any of Minnie's previous masters? Doing whatever they wanted with her and not bothering to ask her opinion on it? He was a heel! He was the biggest heel to ever heel!

“Hey, hey, back into real time, buddy!” Donald poked Mickey's cheeks, trying to snap him out of his downward spiral of self-loathing. “It's okay! You meant well! You just have to talk to her about these things! Take a deep breath now...” In, out, in, out, everything was fine, just fine. “You're going to have a great date with Minnie, you'll learn more about each other, you'll ask her about the future, and in the mean-time, just remember you're not a bad guy. You're going to give her her freedom...” Donald trailed off. Come to think of it...

Mickey took one last deep breath through his nostrils and straightened up. “Okay! You got it, Donald! Pluto, let's head out!” He began to march forward.

Donald turned around, trying to catch him. “Actually, Mickey-”

“Not to worry, I can do this!”

“Yeah, you can, but I just wanted to-”

“I'll let you know how it goes!” And Mickey was gone, Pluto trailing along behind him.

Donald stood alone in Mickey's room, the unheard question still on his lips. Hm. Hm! Perhaps it could wait. Yes, surely someone as nice and kind-hearted as Mickey would figure it out on his own, and if he didn't, Minnie might bring it out of him. They were both wonderful people who deserved one another, and Donald wanted them to be together, as he felt they would be happier this way. He truly did love them both in his own way, like a brother and sister. And he wanted his brother and sister to be together!

“… Right, we tell no one that thought,” Donald said quietly, amazed he could humiliate himself without Daisy's help. “Ah, I'm worrying over nothing. They'll be fine.” He put his hands in his pockets and whistled, a little ray of cheerful sunshine basking over his head. For now, he took that question and tucked it away for another time.

Why was Minnie still a genie?

~*~

It was a warm day, with no clouds in the sky but a pleasant breeze would gently sway in from time to time. The group left the ship and entered the sleepy town before parting their separate ways, and at first Goofy's description won out. It was a tiny town, with only a handful of shops that weren't devoted to fish and the job of fishing, and even tiny children were selling necklaces made out of clean fish bones, yelling out in the wet streets about their wares. Mickey and Minnie were overwhelmed by the smell of the nearby ocean, and they didn't wait to say goodbye before suddenly rushing off in the direction of the boats, knowing their destination was close. Jose mused about young love, and Panchito bought six necklaces.

The two mice zigzagged their way around amused fishermen, Pluto yipping at their heels. They nearly tripped over wooden stairs that led down onto the hot sand, but they refused to stop running until the water was right at their feet. Mickey panted to catch his breath, but when he stood up straight, his breath was taken away again.

Mickey and Minnie had both pictured this mystical sight many times in their imaginations, but none of it could compare to the actual, real thing that brushed over their feet. White foam sparkled like diamonds, and the water wasn't just blue, it was green, it was dark, it was light, it was everything at once, a living thing that breathed in and out alongside Mickey's chest. It seemed to stretch on for ages, each ripple different than the last one.

It was beautiful. Everywhere they looked, it was beautiful. These children of the sand found it impossible to look away, to miss a second of this ever-changing landscape that pulled in and out without fail. But Mickey wasn't content to merely look and call it a day. With a gulp of air, he began to walk forward, his sandals squishing in wet sand.

Minnie was jolted out of her gazing. “What are you doing?”

Mickey glanced back at her with a grin. “You're not just going to stand there, are you? C'mon!” He offered her his hand.

Minnie reached out, but stopped, smirking. “Do you know how to swim?”

“... No. Do you?”

“Not at all. So I can't save you if you drown.”

“Well then, I won't drown!” Mickey flashed his own toothy grin, swatting the water around him to splash at her.

Minnie shrieked, only out of surprise, not expecting the water to be that chilly. “It's so cold!”

“Now you're just making excuses! I bet you want me to drown so you can kiss me back to life.” He'd been practicing that line in his head for an hour and was very proud of himself for not stuttering once.

Minnie's eyes widened, and it was time for battle. “You – you're awful!” She laughed, and used both of her hands to splash right back.

Mickey yelped – that was cold! “Hey, take it easy! I gotta get used to it first!”

“Oh, you think you can tease me and get away with it, your highness?”

“What happened to saying my name!”

“I'll say whatever I like!”

It was a nonsensical argument that went around in circles, and it was one of the happiest talks they'd ever had, their splashing becoming wilder and more erratic. Pluto was tempted to join them, but decided it was too risky as the carpet might get wet. He was just grateful to be outside, and so used his time to dig up potential holes for potential bones. He figured he was having more fun than those two, who were now chasing each other up and down the shoreline, Mickey trying to scare Minnie with a piece of seaweed and pretending it was an eel, and Minnie retaliating by dropping a gooey mound of wet sand down the back of his shirt. It was a war with no winners, and they wound up soaked from head to toe.

They only stopped their chase when Mickey stubbed his toe on a spiky seashell, which made for a fascinating discovery. It was a completely foreign object to both of them, and they began collecting as many as they could find, comparing shapes and colors and trying to guess how they were formed. One fun time led to another, as Minnie realized that since wet sand stuck together, maybe it could be formed into shapes. At first they tried to create miniature statues, but they fell apart easily, and so the idea of creating buildings came next. Minnie enjoyed decorating them with the shells, while Mickey made up stories of those who lived within.

“The brave soldier has returned home!” Mickey declared as a skittish hermit crab climbed its way into the mouse-made castle. “At long last, he can put down his sword and rest.”

“And tell all his friends about the life he's led,” Minnie offered, digging a small hole in the interior for a makeshift swimming pool. “And stay up all night and day for every story he's got.”

“But he must also stay vigilant! For any moment, one of his former enemies could-” But Mickey's dramatic gestures knocked down one of the columns, interrupting his plot twist. “Whoops.” He quickly tried to build it back up. “Sheesh, this stuff doesn't stay up for too long.”

Minnie sat down in the sand, curious. “Does your palace look like this?”

“Naw, it's kind of more... square-ish. If it were, my room would be right about... here,” He pointed out, drawing a line on the wall. “And it's got a balcony, where I can see the whole kingdom. And my parent's room would be right over this way, and this there would be Pete's room...” Mickey went on explaining where everything and everyone was, noting where the gardens flourished and how tall the highest tower was, his favorite places to hide when Pete was on the prowl, where the cooks hid their snacks and often shared with their favorite prince, and Mickey's voice grew more and more quiet as he talked. To think that so long ago life in the palace was dreadful, and now he missed it terribly.

Looking back on it now, the servants and the townsfolk never meant any harm when they called him the Son of Scheherazade. They just wanted to show their gratitude for his mother's selflessness and bravery, and since they couldn't constantly go to her and shower her with gifts and praises, he was the next best thing. Would any of that change if they learned what saved them wasn't her mind, but her Eye? Just as importantly, would they listen when Mickey would come home and stand up for himself? He sighed, and then shook his head. Dwelling on it wouldn't help, and this was a prime opportunity to take step two of Donald's plan. “Say, uh, you ever been to a lot of palaces?”

Minnie nodded, having waited patiently for Mickey while he thought of his homeland. “I've been in all kinds of homes, from tiny shacks to grand castles... although with my powers, they didn't stay that way for long.” She plucked one shell off from the wall, this one pink and white. “They weren't all bad... One woman wished for flowers to grow every day in her house. Then she would cut them all and give them away as bouquets to her neighbors.” She smiled fondly at the memory, trying not to think of when the neighbors had gotten suspicious and eventually raided the poor woman's home to get their hands on Minnie. “And then there was the time I wound up in the hands of a little boy... he wished everything he touched would turn into candy.” She giggled, recalling how the boy soon had his favorite toys turned into taffy. “He had me undo it in ten minutes!”

Mickey snorted, able to see himself making a very similar wish at that age. “Sounds like you've been all over... and I've never even left my kingdom before. By now, you've probably got way more stories than my Ma. I bet she'll want to hear them all...” He hadn't meant to jump to step three so quickly, but here they were, and he didn't want to waste the chance. He nervously fidgeted with a sand dollar that had once been a door. “My... my folks will probably have a lot of work on their hands when they get home, since they've been gone for so long. And I'll do my best to help 'em out, even if I'm not sure what I can do. What... what do you think you'll do?” he lifted his head. “When this is all over... when you're free... what do you want to do?”

This was a question that used to fill Minnie with dread and keep her up at night. Yet as she hugged her knees, watching the hermit crab inspect his surroundings, she felt tranquil. “It's strange... I've been wanting freedom all my life, but... I'm not sure what I'll do. I'm not even sure what I'm good at, besides granting wishes... but... at the same time...” She smiled, brushing some sand off her arm. “It's kind of exciting, don't you think? Having all the choices but not knowing which ones to start with... I think no matter what I wind up doing or where I wind up going, I'll be happy. Because it'll be my own doing.”

All right, Mickey decided, time to ease into this slowly. Whatever you do, do not just blurt out YOU CAN COME LIVE WITH ME THAT'D BE SWELL. “Well, uh... you could, um, if you wanted...” Mickey's fingers tapped on the sand dollar, the question bouncing up and down in his throat and refusing to enter his mouth. “I know I just said we'd be busy and all, but... it'd be one of those 'we need all the help we can get' situations, right?” He found it difficult to look at her sweet eyes, and the stammering and stuttering increased tenfold. Because, from a certain point of view, this was, kind of, sort of, in a way, like a m-m-marriage proposal... Not that it WAS because it WASN'T and DANG IT DONALD LOOK WHAT YOU DID!!!! “Y-y-y-you, um, that is, i-i-if you like, them, and me, if you liked all of us, together, then, m-m-maybe, possibly, there's room, there's always room, th-th-there's always room...”

Minnie could tell whatever Mickey wanted to say was going to take a while. As awful as it was, a laugh began to rise in her throat. How could she have ever thought the Mickey of the Mirror was the real one? Sillier still, why did she think she wanted him that way? Her lips trembled, and the urge was getting harder to fight. It wasn't her fault Mickey was ridiculously adorable! What would he have thought if he saw that “other” self in her dream? Envious or incredulous? She bit down on her lip, but lost the battle, and she wound up laughing so hard she had to hold her stomach. “I-I'm sorry!”

Mickey blushed deeply, deeply, deeply. “H-Hey! I'm tryin' to say something!”

“I-I know! It's not you, it's just... heehee... I can't explain... teehee... it's too much!”

“You can explain right now!” Mickey tried to grab Minnie, but miscalculated and landed belly-first on the castle. He winced, and then froze, hoping he hadn't squished the hermit crab – nope, it quickly crawled out and headed away from the nonsense. Naturally this made Minnie laugh much harder, and were their positions reversed, Mickey would have been fit to burst as well. “Aw, you're a real riot, Minnie! I could wish the truth right out of you!”

“Instead of wishing you could talk to me without stuttering?” she teased, lightly poking his forehead.

“I don't s-s-stutter... I don't s-s-s.... I D-D-DON'T...” She was going to be the death of him, he was going to be the first person to literally die of embarrassment. “Quit giggling! I wanted to ask you somethin', dang it!”

“I really am sorry.” And Minnie mostly meant it. “It's just... you wouldn't understand, it was the Cave of Wishes, what it made me see...”

Mickey finally began to get up. “What about it? I know exactly what you saw.”

Any remaining laughter died in Minnie's mouth. No he didn't. Surely he didn't. “What... do you mean?”

“I mean, isn't it obvious?” Mickey shrugged his shoulders. “I bet the entire crew knows what happened in your dream.”

What a fine way to turn those positions around – now Minnie was struck with the love arrow of denial. “Uh, no, I'm... very, very sure you all... didn't see anything...” She wasn't that obvious, was she?! Could all of them really guess that she wanted to sit in Mickey's lap while he caressed her with sweet nothings? No way, nooo way – Daisy would have never let it go!

“It's written all over your face,” Mickey went on, mortifying Minnie even more. “What else am I supposed to think?”

All over her face, even right now?! “W-well... I... I am...” Her voice died down, and she looked down at her twiddling thumbs, mumbling shyly. “I am a girl, after all, and...girls like to... hear certain things, sometimes...”

“What's being a girl got to do with it?” Mickey asked, dumbfounded. “I think anyone in your position would want the same thing – your freedom!”

… Well. He wasn't wrong, technically. She made sure to look away, a hard, fake chuckle forcing its way past her lips. “... Y-Yes, of course, that was it... that, and nothing else, absolutely nothing else...” Not Mickey kissing her neck and telling her she was beautiful, ha ha ha haaaaaa.

To Minnie's dismay, Mickey's obviousness wasn't as strong today. “Was there... something else in the dream?” What else could she possibly want? Was it something he could also grant?

It turned out the flight or fight instinct also lived in genies – rather than answer that, Minnie took to her feet and ran. Mickey stared and then chased after her. “HEY! What was in the dream?!”

“NOOOO I'M NEVER TELLING YOUUUU!”

“NOW I JUST WANNA HEAR IT MORE!”

Mickey never did get around to asking the important question, but at least he got step one and two down. Even with the two of them being humiliated in different ways, that was fun in its own frivolous way. Minnie never did tell him what the other part of her dream was, even when Mickey tackled her down and tickled her. She distracted him with the discovery of a sea star, and they spent many minutes mesmerized in feeling its bristles. Mickey recalled a story his mother once told of mermaids, and given her Eye there was a possibility they actually existed, and Minnie responded with stories of past masters, including one who had wished to breathe underwater.

Mickey was learning not to hold a pointy sea urchin in his hand after Minnie spoke of a master who wished to be faster than ten racing camels. “Gee, Minnie... you sure do remember a lot. Do you really remember each and every single one of your masters?”

“I do,” Minnie said with a notch of pride. “It might be part of my magic, but I recall every single day of all my many years. I remember every morning, noon, and night I spent with them, all as if it happened yesterday.”

“Shoot, sometimes I can't remember what I had for breakfast,” Mickey replied, fairly impressed. Such an ability sounded like both a blessing and a curse. He sat down in the sand, letting his feet get wet in the passing tide. He felt his next question was a simple one. “What was your first master like?”

And Minnie...

… couldn't remember.

She knew her earliest master, a dark-skinned gentleman who thought perhaps she was a goddess first, before understanding she was a servant. Yet a part of her knew that this was not the first master. A feeling, a dreadful feeling, a coldness deep in her bones told her not to go any further. “I don't... know...” she said softly, her eyes going over the water's horizon. “My... my first memories, I already knew who I was, and what I could do...” But how does any living creature know such things right away? How does all life come into being? Once more, the Imp's wickedly amused inquiry came to mind.

Do you remember how you were created?

Minnie shut her eyes, her mind flashing with pain. “I don't know!” she suddenly cried out, to the Imp and herself. “I don't know where I came from, or who made me... and every time I try to think about it, I get so scared... It's like... there's another me telling me I shouldn't.” But why? What was so awful about her birth? She wasn't a mortal, but she had understood this, lived with it, what anguished truth was being locked away? Would she ever know?

Mickey's hand clasped hers, warm despite being covered in cold ocean water. “It's okay,” he insisted, trying to put on a brave smile for her. “There are plenty of things I don't know either... and maybe we'll find out. Maybe we won't. That's not so bad.” He scooted in closer, and put an arm around her shoulders. “Whatever happens, we'll face it together. Long as you want me around, I'll be there. Whatever you wanna do once those shackles come off, I'll support it.” Not only because he loved her, not only because he promised her, but because most of all, it was the right thing to do. That, to Mickey, mattered most of all. The right thing should always be done, regardless of how it would affect him and his heart.

If the right thing meant letting Minnie go and never seeing her again... it would hurt. It might be a wound from which he might never recover. Yet he would do it. He heard Minnie whisper quiet words of thanks, her head tucked under his chin. Even with this closeness and tenderness, it was no absolute guarantee she would stay with him. The thought of it almost drove him to tears. When he freed his parents, he could lose her, but she deserved to be free and happy, whether it was with him or not. He had to ask her, even as the question now hurt his soul.

“Minnie... when you're free...” Dang it all, his eyes felt wet. Why hadn't his parents warned him that love could be as painful as it was wonderful? If it came to be that she told him no, and her days on the ship would be their last together, he still wouldn't trade the memories he had of her for anything in the world. Their time had made him a better person, he believed it, and he would treasure every second they spent, even the angry and confusing ones. “After everything is done, and my parents are free... If you want... Will you...”

“WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF!”

Mickey paused, and rushed to wipe away the tears from his eyes. “Pluto, this is NOT a good time to ask for a treat!”

He whipped his body around, but Pluto wasn't interrupting for snack time. As the two mice had been sharing memories and trust, a few ner-do-wells from the docks had spotted Pluto's odd carpet attachment. Fabric like that was rare in this part of the world, and the three beagle-faced bandits had decided to take it for themselves, even if it meant taking the dog along. Mickey had turned just in time to see three grown men lifting Pluto up and away, with Pluto barking frantically for help.

“PLUTO!” Mickey yelped, on his feet in seconds as was Minnie. “Leave my dog alone!”

“Finders keepers, kiddo!” the head beagle snapped, and with his brothers they began to run towards the stairs back to the docks.

“Give him back!” Mickey yelled, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword and running after them, with Minnie in hot pursuit. “Don't you hurt him!” The beagles had a head-start on the hunt, and it didn't help that many busy fishermen had returned and were trying to unload their smelly wares. Mickey and Minnie had to leap over full fish nets, burst past ripped sails, and slip past soggy sailors. With so many obstacles in their way, it was getting difficult to catch up.

“Mickey!” Minnie shouted when it became harder to see the thieves. “Use a wish to stop them!”

“No!” Mickey objected automatically. “We'll find another way!” Think, think, there had to be a better way than to use a wish – they were entering the fisher's market, and there was a fresh crowd that made things all the harder to push through. “Come on...” Mickey's eyes flew around until he saw a lopsided banner advertising the world's mightiest minnows. “I got it!” He ran towards the falling banner and began to use it as a climbing rope, scrambling until he was on the rooftop. “I'll get the drop on 'em!” He backed up, and then sprang forward in a hot run, jumping from that building to the next.

“Mickey!” Minnie shrieked, yelling as loudly as she could to be heard over the crowd. “Stop! It's too dangerous! You'll get yourself killed! Use a wish!”

He didn't need a wish, he was fine! Mickey had trained under Horace and Clarabelle's watchful eye, and his stamina and speed had built up considerably. He would get ahead of the thieves and catch them from above! It would be as easy as -

As slipping on a loose stone and plummeting downward.

Mickey managed to catch himself by the skin of his teeth, or more literally, by clutching onto the decaying store rooftop with his fingers. But this store was in need of many repairs, including a crumbling roof, and Mickey could feel himself starting to slip, his ocean-wet fingers making it harder to stay on. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't fine.

“MICKEY!” Minnie was now screaming so loudly the entire shopping audience could hear, and now all were staring at the boy who was near death's door. “USE A WISH! Wish for the carpet, wish to fly, wish for the ground to be made of marshmallows, just wish for something!” Pluto, hearing all the distress, could feel the carpet wriggling fiercely under the tied knots, and he clawed desperately to free it if not himself.

“No!” Mickey said again despite all reason, teeth gritted, trying to climb back up but finding it impossible to do so. “I can't! I should only use wishes... for emergencies!”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS?!”

Just because she was right didn't mean he had to concede anything! “I... I can't! I just can't!” His fingers were starting to ache fiercely...

“We've been in so many life-threatening situations before! The Cave, the Imp, and you still wouldn't use a wish! You can't keep doing this! Why am I still a genie if you aren't going to use my powers?!”

“Because... because...” He had his reasons! He needed to be ready for any emergency! He needed to save them for his parents! He didn't want to hurt her! He didn't want to waste an opportunity! But for each and every single reason he could think of, none of them held weight to the awful, real truth that he'd been trying to avoid. “Because I... I don't... I don't want... I don't want to let go!”

But he did. And down he went.

Instead of meeting the harsh, unforgiving ground, he met the soft, rather forgiving carpet. He blinked a few times to make sure this wasn't some sort of dying illusion – a pinch to his cheek proved the truth – and he rolled onto his stomach, staring at the familiar mix of colors. “Huh. Not quite how I wanted to test you out, but thanks!” Maybe it was just the near-death high messing with his eyes, or maybe the carpet's tassels actually gave him a thumbs-up. “Mind helping me down?”

The carpet gently glided downward, with the crowd backing up in surprise and wonder, talking excitedly to each other about the miracle they just witnessed. Once he was close enough, Mickey hopped off the carpet, and gave it an appreciate pet like he would've Pluto. “See, Minnie? It all worked out, everything is-”

A hard slap to his left cheek proved that, no, things were not whatever he'd been about to say.

Mickey slowly turned his head, touching his hurt cheek, to see Minnie trembling with anger, her hand still in the air. Her teeth were tight together, a sign that she was pushing back the urge to cry. Mickey gulped, sure he was in trouble but not quite sure why. At least, Mickey thought, things can't get any wor-NO, NO, NEVER THINK THAT, NEVER THINK THAT -

Too late. It had been thought, and just to prove him wrong, the man who'd they soon learn was the ringleader of the thieves stepped from the crowd, an all too familiar face. “Look who's come crawling back to the most magnificent man in the world!”

Mickey's stomach and jaw dropped together. “... Mortimer?”

Chapter Text

There were a great number of bad things happening all at once, and Mickey had no idea how to handle it. Perhaps if it was merely one or two bad situations, his clever mind would have found a solution, but here and now with all of this? The exact opposite happened – his brain short-circuited, leaving him without words and without thought. Minnie, at least, could think and speak, but it wasn't going to solve everything that was happening. “What,” she finally spoke up, in shaky disbelief, “are you doing here?”

Mortimer had changed greatly since last they saw him, and given that they'd destroyed his thieving livelihood and outed him as a criminal, this wasn't terribly surprising. His once proud showman clothing was now replaced with stitched-together rags and shoes too small for his huge feet. There were bags under his eyes, the eyes themselves were sunken in, and while he was already rail-thin to begin with, he appeared to be even thinner now, as if all it would take was a gentle breeze to send him to the ground. Yet despite looking like yesterday's trash, he had the confidence of a sultan, with a glitter to his eyes and a proud stance to his walk. He now sported a long black cane, not for an ailing back but for ailing showmanship. He eyed the two, eyed the carpet, eyed the crowd, and then turned around, bowing dramatically.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, his voice as grating and booming as it had been so long ago. “I hope you've all enjoyed the show! This is but a mere glimpse into the future, a sneak peek of what I, Mortimer the Magnificent, will bring to the stage!”

The crowd broke into wondering applause, praising the act, with some naysayers saying they could “totally see the strings holding the carpet up.” Some eager patrons tossed coins at Mortimer's feet, and he quickly scooped them up before clearing his throat. “Now, if you'll excuse us, my actors and I need to rehearse the next performance.” He then cast a dirty smirk back at Mickey and Minnie. “Isn't that right?”

Mickey's mouth finally closed, and he bit down hard on his lower lip. Awful as Mortimer was, one couldn't say he didn't know how to win an audience. Mickey and Minnie were just shouting about genies and wishes – if they thought what happened was real, they might break into a frenzy to grab the lamp for themselves, not to mention Pluto still wasn't safely returned. He glanced at Minnie, who was so angry at both men that parts of her face were turning red. There would be no time to explain Mickey's words before he fell. With a hard, bitter sigh, he grumbled, “Yes, Mortimer.” Maybe in the time they were apart, Mortimer learned a trace of humility or kindness.

Mortimer put a hand to his ear. “What was that?”

Nope, he was still a jerk in every way possible. “Yes, sir.” Boy, if there was a time to test controlling Mickey's anger... Mickey shook his head and turned to his flying carpet – which now was flopped on the ground as ordinary as ever. Grateful for small miracles, Mickey rolled up the carpet and held it in his arms.

Mortimer twirled the cane in his hands before starting to walk, giving little waves to the adoring crowd and promising them a bigger and better show next time. Mickey and Minnie followed behind, with Mickey whispering, “How much you wanna bet Daisy knew he was here and thought this would be funny?” But this got no reply. Minnie was glaring daggers at Mortimer's back, but the fact that she wouldn't even look at Mickey said he wasn't the only one she was furious at. This was going to be a long day. Mickey gulped, and kept quiet for the rest of the walk.

Mortimer himself said nothing until they approached a dilapidated shack that reeked of dead fish, though given the town's main source of food and money, he at least couldn't be blamed for that. But when he opened the door and the smell somehow got worse, they found it much easier to blame him. It might have been a store once upon a time, given the large empty shelves and scattered tables and broken chairs, and a weirdly placed door on the floor. But Mickey ignored all of this, as there in the center of the room stood the three beagle bandits, along with the pup they'd stolen. “Pluto!”

Mortimer snapped his fingers, closing the door. “Gentlemen, release the hound, if you would.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” said the tallest one, with muscles so big they threatened to rip out of his rags. They dropped Pluto to the floor, and he instantly sprinted towards his master, licking his face in gratitude.

Mickey let the carpet drop, and hugged his pet tightly. “Aw, Pluto, I'm glad you're okay...” But this joy was short-lived, and he glowered at Mortimer. “Wait a minute, these crooks work for you?”

“They're my associates,” Mortimer corrected, strolling up to the smallest table in the room. “They provide the brawn, I provide the brains. Ever since our little mishap, when my assistant quit on me...”

“When Mickey took the lamp,” Minnie said, her words dark and deep. Minnie was startled at her tone of voice – he hadn't seen her this angry since the incident with the Imp.

“Tomato, tamata.” Mortimer waved a hand, taking a seat. One beagle took out a cigar, the second lit it, and the third popped it into Mortimer's mouth. “It hasn't been easy to pull myself back up. It's rather difficult to do a magic act without magic. But, I am a man of opportunity! I decided to take my one-man show and make it an ensemble.”

Mickey understood fairly easily. “Instead of making Minnie steal for you, you get these guys to do it.”

“I'd like to think of more as... temporary acquisition with the intention of redistributing for differential profit.”

“Using big words doesn't change what you're doing!” Minnie barked, hands on her hips. “Whatever scheme you're planning, we won't be a part of it!”

Mortimer puffed on his cigar briefly, eyebrow raised. “Huh... you weren't nearly as mouthy when you were working for me. Seems we've both changed since we last saw each other.” He tapped his fingers on the table, his brain already scheming and plotting.

“Yeah, she's become stronger and better and wiser and more independent,” Mickey said proudly, “And you've gotten even slimier.” He hoped that would ease some of Minnie's anger, but it didn't even crack a smile. He'd clearly messed up big time.

“That's some gratitude from the man who saved your skins.” Mortimer pointed at them with his lit cigar. “I could have let the crowd rip you apart to get their hands on our little lady, or have you already forgotten what happened when you stole her from me?” At this point Mickey and Minnie mutually decided that correcting him was pointless, as he was determined to see things only from his point of view. “I'd say you owe me. In fact, it's what I'm saying right now.”

“Uh-uh, no way.” Mickey crossed his arms. “If you think we'd help you rob anyone, you've lost your mind. We're here for a very important mission, and we don't have time to waste with criminals! Minnie, Pluto, let's get out of here and meet back at the ship.”

But just as Mickey touched the doorknob, Mortimer said, “I suppose that mission might become more difficult if I told the town the truth?”

Mickey stood still, eyes almost popping out of their sockets. Yes, looking for a single scrap of paper in this town would probably become much more difficult if they were constantly being chased by a greedy mob. “You... you... you...” He couldn't even come up with a decent insult, he was so shaken. He looked to Minnie for help, but she was now putting the majority of her wrath on him, and he darn well knew why – he could merely wish for the last piece, and he'd have it in his hands, then they could flee the town. There was nothing preventing him from doing it right now – save for Mickey's emotional baggage.

With every passing second that he didn't do this, Minnie got angrier and angrier, until she finally stomped hard on the wooden floor. “You're such an idiot!” she yelled, but instead of slapping him again, there was a puff of pink smoke, and she was gone, retreating back into the security of the lamp.

“Minnie!” Mickey held up the lamp, upset and helpless. “C-C'mon, don't be like that! I'm sorry, I can explain...” But this was not really the time or place to do it. The Beagles quietly clapped, perhaps mystified by the magic without knowing if it was real or not. Mortimer was probably not the type to hire anybody smarter than himself. Mickey swallowed, and then looked up at his captor. “I... I meant what I said. I am not going to steal for you.”

“Now now, whoever said you'd be stealing for me?” Mortimer mused, entertained by the break-up before him. “I bet you'd be pretty lousy at it anyway, bleeding heart and all. I just want you to be my assistant at my next show tonight. You'll just be handing me my props, and telling the crowd how great I am, maybe some groveling and worshiping at my magnificence. And serve as my footstool. And get my refreshments.”

“Not the tiniest bit bitter how you ended up, are you?”

“Not in the slightest.” Mortimer dragged out a long spew of smoke. Jose was always courteous to do small puffs and keep the smog out of his friend's faces, but Mortimer exhaled right in Mickey's direction. “One show, and then you're on your way back home. We have a deal?”

Mickey looked at the lamp, looked at the carpet, looked at Pluto – who was whining and shaking his head no – and then looked at Mortimer. He'd been fairly naive when he first met Mortimer, but now Mickey had been through many adventures, faced many villains, and knew the world wasn't as fair as anyone wished it to be. He didn't have a single doubt that Mortimer was planning something, and if by some golden chance Mortimer was telling the truth and he was free to go, Mickey's conscience couldn't let Mortimer and his “friends” continue stealing from the town. If Mortimer hadn't learned his lesson the first time, it was Mickey's responsibility to teach him again.

And how much of it was avoiding a dreadful conversation with Minnie about feelings he wasn't ready to handle? More than he cared to admit.

“All right. You've got a deal.” Mickey held out his hand, and Mortimer stood up to shake it, both men convinced by the time the last trick was played, they'd be the victor.

~*~

The rest of the crew was having a much more pleasant time, although compared to what Mickey and Minnie had been through, almost anything could've been an improvement. Donald had taken up the outskirts of the town, where businesses made their living aiding wandering travelers. He wasn't having much luck in finding the last piece, but the people he talked to were friendly, the weather was peaceful, and his mood was calm, so why worry? They'd find it sooner or later. The question he meant to ask Mickey was still on his mind, but it was in a far away place, only visited when he wondered if Mickey was having any success, be it with the date or finding the piece.

He turned a corner, ready to start a new branch of investigating, when he spotted Daisy sitting on a rickety wooden chair, sipping an expensive drink, and flipping through a book, using her snake as a bookmark. Donald suspected, correctly, that Daisy had conned her way into getting all three. He rolled his eyes and then walked towards her, sticking his finger in the book and lightly pulling it back. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Reading one thousand and one ways to please your man,” Daisy quipped, enjoying the scarlet hue in Donald's cheeks. “Kidding. Mostly.”

Donald decided his fragile heart wasn't ready to ask further on that. “I mean, why aren't you helping us locate the last piece of the map? Spell? Map spell?”

“I outsourced the job,” Daisy replied, jabbing her thumb to a rabble of small children who were now eagerly searching under every rock, pile of garbage, and alleyway to find a lost treasure. “I told them whoever finds that piece for me will get my kingdom's worth of gold.”

“You don't have a kingdom.”

“And thus, they won't get any gold, fiddle de dee.”

Donald took a minute to ask himself why he cared so deeply about this terrible woman, before remembering that he really had no say in who he liked. “Okay, it would be easier to get more help... not that I really approve of lying to children... but what if we tried a more honest approach on a bigger scale?”

“Eh.” Daisy leaned back into her chair, resuming her read. “What's the hurry? If Mickey's right that the Phantom Prince's own power is killing himself, maybe we can just wait it out and the big bad will die before we have to do anything.” She flipped the page, and the snake followed along.

“Or, he could hurt or kill Mickey's parents before we get there,” Donald growled, a few sparks of lightning appearing his head. “Do you really want to take that gamble?” Or was she just messing with him, as was her favorite hobby? An idea came to him then, a sudden and rather powerful one, and one he probably couldn't have pulled off before the Cave of Wants.

Daisy gave a little laugh. “You do know how I love a good gamble, and-” Any lies, deceit and manipulation were dismissed when Donald tugged the book away, so he could kiss her on the beak. A few of the nearby children squealed their disgust, and Daisy was so stunned she dropped the book, her snake bouncing off just in time. When Donald pulled back, he rather enjoyed the shocked, flustered look on Daisy's face that typically would have been on his. The tables had turned.

“I know you're going to keep up the lies and tricks,” Donald said, still blushing but having a bit more and confidence over his beating heart this time around. “So, the way I see it, if I cut you off before you lie and trick, everything works out for the best.”

Daisy, she of pulling other people's strings and making games out of lives, had never been so thoroughly trounced before. “You... you really think you can keep that up?”

Donald leaned in, one eyebrow up. “Care to try me, fiddle de dee?”

Yes, yes she did, boy did she ever want to try. Naturally at this inopportune time, one of the smaller children skipped up to the ducks, tugging on Daisy's sleeve. “Miss?”

“This had better be the most important information in the world,” Daisy said without breaking her eyes off Donald's intense gaze.

“I was just wondering, can we stop looking when it's time for the magic show?”

The love spell was broken temporarily, as both ducks now had enough worldly wisdom to know that whenever there was magic, trouble wasn't far behind. “What magic show?” Donald asked, hoping that for once magic might lead to something new and not life-threatening. He could already hear Horace crying out “I CALLED IT!” in his head.

“There's going to be a big magic show tonight,” the child answered, smiling brightly. “Everyone wants to go see Mortimer the Magnificent!”

Donald stared at the child, then slowly turned his eyes toward Daisy, who shrugged innocently. “If I said I didn't know, would you believe me?” She then gave the kid an affectionate ruffle of his hair. “Sure, go see the show, have fun.” With a giddy giggle, the child skipped off to tell his friends.

Donald ran a hand down his face, feeling stress build in every bone in his body. “We have to find Mickey and Minnie and warn them. From what they've told us about that guy, he can't possibly be up to any good. Let's just hope he doesn't know anything about the last piece, or we could all be in serious trouble.”

Daisy closed her eyes, using her Eye to locate her pals, and when she opened them, she stifled a chuckle under her hand. “About that... trouble's already found them, looks like.” Before Donald could form a plan, Daisy held up her finger. “Hang on. Let's go round up the others...but we'll watch the show.”

“What?!” Donald balked, a hand to his chest. “Why would we do that? And your first reason better not be 'because it'll be funny'.”

“Don't be so callous, Donald. That's my second reason.”

~*~

A stage had been set up in the middle of the small town, crudely constructed as if it were made by someone for the first time who pretty much had no idea what they were doing – Mickey accurately guessed that the Beagles had created it, with Mortimer using his silver tongue to convince them he shouldn't do a lick of work. Props, pulleys and mirrors were set up behind the curtains for the upcoming illusions, and Mickey helped move this and that to eavesdrop on conversation between the thieves. While Mortimer dazzled the crowd with his works, the Beagles would ransack the empty homes, and hide their loot in the trapdoor under Mortimer's not-quite-house. But every once in a while as Mickey made the final adjustments, he could feel the prying eye of a Beagle on the lamp.

Even if they didn't wholly believe in real magic themselves, curiosity was a dangerous pull. Mickey wasn't surprised, and in fact counted on this greed. He had sent Pluto away to find the others, warn them if he could. The sun was starting to set, and a crowd began to gather. Mortimer strolled up, dressed to the nines, humming a made-up show-tune as he inspected each of his props. “Looks like I'm ready to go!” He snapped his fingers. “Assistant, I'm parched.”

“Pain in the butt, is what you are,” Mickey muttered under his breath, taking a jug of water and a cup off one of the tables to pour Mortimer a drink.

Mortimer grabbed the cup and downed it in one gulp. “Now, don't forget to smile! Every audience loves a smile. It won't be a long show, but then again, they might ask for an encore. So, show those pearly whites!”

The only way Mickey could even fathom smiling at the moment was by picturing Mortimer falling off the stage and into a suddenly sprouted field of cacti. “I don't think anyone wants to see that smile.”

Mortimer tsked, approaching the closed curtain, the murmurs of the crowd breaking through. “Must we be so uncivilized to one another? Sure, we've had our differences...”

“You enslaved a girl and abused her in order to make money.” Mickey's voice couldn't be dryer if he was deprived of liquids for seven days and seven nights.

“...But that was then, and this is now.” Mortimer paused, as his goons slid out to do his bidding. “Oh, boy... you don't think we're that different, do you? You can't con a con.”

“I am nothing like you!” Mickey said sharply, fists clenched. “You didn't care that you were causing Minnie pain, you treated her like a slave! Nobody deserves that! She's not a tool for people to use, she's a person, and she should be free!”

“Can't help but notice that she's still in the lamp,” Mortimer said as he popped out a frilly ruffle on his collar.

Mickey inhaled sharply. “You have no idea what I've been through and what I need. The way things are with her and me, and the way they were with her and you... they're totally different!”

“Okay, so they're different,” Mortimer admitted, but before he parted the curtain, he cast his assistant a devious smirk, his buck-teeth glittering in candlelight. “But does that make it better?”

Time can stand still for people for many reasons. Falling in love, being told sad news, or in Mickey's case, being metaphorically punched so hard in the stomach he could taste his intestines. He staggered, nearly losing the strength in his legs. Mortimer kept Minnie in the lamp out of greed, and Mickey did the same out of love, so – so – so – no, it wasn't any better. He had been so reluctant to use wishes and become yet another wicked master that he had simply locked Minnie away in a different cage. It had been just as Donald warned about their potential future – Mickey had never actually asked Minnie about this, gotten her opinion, as he was so consumed with what he was sure was love and faith that he didn't even question what he was doing was right. He didn't want to let her go – but he had pushed her away.

Mortimer was announcing himself to the crowd, getting applause and cheers. Mickey's body moved without his mind acknowledging it, standing rigidly next to Mortimer as his brain continued to unravel. He had tried to protect her without asking if she wanted to be protected. He had stripped her of the only unique power she had, taken away her ability to help those she cared for. Mortimer was saying something about how great he was and how Mickey begged to help out, and Mickey barely heard him. He also failed to register his friends in the crowd, who were startled at the haunting look on the prince's face.

Mickey's self-loathing spiraled deeper and deeper, forgetting all about the plan he had tried to set up to expose Mortimer and get away scot-free. He moved methodically as Mortimer went through his tricks, making a box vanish, pulling vermin out of a hat, guessing cards, all quite routine. He should have just been content to be the Son of Scheherazade, as the real him only made things worse. Even when he tried to do good, he did bad. He didn't deserve Minnie. He didn't deserve to be alive.

“Now, for my next trick, I'll need a simple piece of cloth, like a belt! Assistant, if you would so kindly...” Mortimer leaned behind Mickey, reaching over –

Mickey's hand lashed out before his mind acknowledged it, and he was gripping Mortimer's wrist, seconds before it had touched the lamp. Their eyes met, and Mickey understood that this magician intended not to just make magic, but steal it. Mortimer snarled, but kept on a showman's smile. “Why so jumpy, pal? All I'm asking for is a little help!” He then lashed out with his other hand -

Mickey pulled his hand back, then turned, twisted, not intending to break any bones but give his attacker enough time to regret his actions – a technique he'd learned from Horace, having spent many a night under his and Clarabelle's tutelage – before making a run and getting some distance between them. “Here I thought Mortimer the Magnificent was too' magnificent' to need anybody's help!” He heard laughter from the audience – they assumed this was part of a gag, and were better off for it. Maybe Mickey wasn't the best person to have the lamp, but Mortimer was surely no better! This was a new game and a new gamble – Mortimer was after the lamp, but if he exposed its true nature, he'd be in the same trouble he had just threatened Mickey with. Mickey couldn't tell if this was clever manipulation or greedy stupidity.

“Every great act needs a few stepping stones!” Mortimer rubbed his sore wrist, wondering when the kid got so strong. When he'd last seen Mickey in that run-down town, the boy was scrawny and didn't even know how to hold a sword. Where did the muscle come from? “After all, when I'm around, people say they can feel the very earth tremble beneath them!” He twirled his cane around before slamming it to the ground, making the stage itself begin to shake – in reality, it was several trap doors beginning to open. He expected his opponent to yelp, flail, and drop below.

But muscle wasn't the only thing Mickey had gained in his time. His eyes darted about, and then he jumped backward – once, twice, backflipping, techniques he'd gained by training alongside Clarabelle, until he landed on the prop table, though he nearly lost his balance once or twice. “Can't say I know the feeling! Maybe instead of being on the ground, you've got your head in the clouds!”

Only Mortimer's shock kept him from losing his temper. Mickey had yet to realize himself how much he'd changed, but it was apparent to Mortimer, who had only planned to trick a slow, weak kid, not a quick-thinking athlete. Swallowing a growl, he avoided his own traps and grabbed the table by the edge. “If you'd just do what I asked, you'd be on cloud nine!” This was a trick table, after all, and it took one hard push to make it start spinning around. This time Mickey was caught off guard, struggling to keep his balance, understanding here and now that Mortimer wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted. Mortimer spun his cane around, trying to jab Mickey and snatch the lamp in one blow – only to be met with Mickey's sword, and more surprising still, to be met in even combat with it, each blow parried, even when Mickey's back had been turned. After all, clumsy as Goofy was, this was his finest skill, and he'd taken great strain to show Mickey how to protect himself.

Mickey found feel the table beginning to slow down, and as Daisy had shown him time and time again, a distraction was his best bet. If he remembered the trick right... “Maybe I'll take your advice, Mortimer, and just take flight!” With one foot, he slid open a secret compartment, unleashing half-a-dozen doves that quickly flapped around in all directions, knocking the older man over onto his back. When Mortimer could finally see past feathers, Mickey was gone, having run off in the other direction of the stage. If he could just get out of here, maybe think like Donald and use the environment to his advantage -

But that's when he saw the applauding audience at the end of the stage, and his heart sank. He was still stuck. If he dared to step off the stage, Mortimer would reveal the truth. But if he stayed with the act, Mortimer wouldn't relent until the lamp was his again. Why hadn't Mickey seen this earlier? Why was he always so sure he was right? Why hadn't he just done as Minnie begged? Why, why, why was he always so stupid? He was going to lose her – he was going to lose everything!

By this time, Mortimer had gotten back to his feet, the trapdoors closed and the table set straight. He lightly clapped, enjoying the look of agony on Mickey's face. “What's the matter, assistant? A case of stage fright? Happens to the best of us... if only you could wish it all away.” Twisting that knife in was extra fun. He had more than enough tricks to play, and it was only a matter of time before Mickey's mind and body gave out. The lamp would be his again, just so long as he pressed the right buttons. Sure, the kid had changed on the outside – but inside, he was still that weak little coward who couldn't do anything on his own. “Now, your little act has given me a great idea of how next to wow my audience... if you'd so nicely put your sword away before you hurt anyone...” Once again, Mortimer knew just the right wounds to open. Mickey shakily returned his blade to its scabbard, his eyes swimming.

What was he going to do? No matter what, Minnie would suffer, and it was all his fault. Why couldn't he do anything right? Why did he even bother leaving the palace? He'd been nothing but a spoiled, worthless, cruel master, just as all of Minnie's other masters had been. He was worthless.

“And for my next trick,” Mortimer announced, pushing a thin box on wheels to the stage, “I will defy the mystic wonders of the afterlife, and possess the powers that only the gods can attest to!”

No worth, no life, no love, he was nothing nothing nothing -

“My assistant will climb into this box.” Mortimer opened up the top, and pulled out a sharp saw. “And I will cut him in half! No need to be squeamish, he'll make it... probably.” He winked to the crowd, and they enjoyed the joke.

Mickey swallowed, automatically turning to the box, raising his foot, ready to crawl in, stupid, worthless, hopeless boy -

And then he felt a piece of popcorn bop his nose. He blinked once, twice, and then heard the owner of the treat call out, “Boooring! C'mon, let's see some real magic!”

Mortimer spun around, surprised and angry. “Hey! Who said that? … And where did you get popcorn in a fishing town?!”

Clarabelle lightly tossed another piece of popcorn up and down in her hand, her eyes on Mickey but her voice on Mortimer. “You call this magic? This one's so obvious. You've got a fake set of legs in the second part of the box.”

Mortimer's mouth dropped, and he fumbled to put the saw back inside. “I... I can assure you, there's nothing like that, if you can just wait a minute...”

“And that last trick?” There went Daisy scoffing, as she stood in front of the crowd. “Anyone else see the hidden panel under the table? That's where the doves came from, obviously. Where's the real material?”

Mortimer scrambled to push the table with said panel away from the stage. “Hold on a second! That was just... you were seeing things!”

“Jose, wonder and hope in all things eternal,” Panchito crooned, strumming his guitar, “I only wish we could see some real magic, aside from the sparks in your eyes.”

“Panchito, whose radiance is envied by the sun and moon both.” Jose lazily put an arm around his friend's shoulder. “I'm afraid the only miracle we'll see tonight, is if this bum can actually entertain us.”

The crowd begun to whisper about, getting very disappointed by the reveals they were hearing. Mickey held his breath, worrying that Mortimer would recognize his hecklers – only to remember that, when Mickey had confronted Mortimer in their last battle, he'd only known about Goofy and Horace. As far as Mortimer was concerned, he was being harassed by complete strangers. Horace was in the crowd, but he was making sure to stay hidden, snickering at how things were falling apart, with Pluto making a similar expression at his feet. Mortimer flailed as he tried to recover his wits, tripping over hidden switches and exposing a mirror when he stepped backwards.

“What about the kid?” one more voice asked, and there stood Donald, a smile on his beak and a twinkle in his eye. “You got anything worth showing? It's not too late!”

Mickey met Donald's face, and his heart stopped drowning. What had he been doing? Licking his own wounds as if that would solve anything? Mickey still had breath in his lungs, feelings in his soul, and a clever brain that rarely stopped. No, it wasn't too late – as long as he was alive, he could still learn. He wasn't alone, and so long as he kept fighting, he wouldn't stay alone. He touched the lamp on his belt, and his fingers curled. Just because a story ended, didn't mean the characters stopped living.

Mortimer growled, holding the cane in his hands so tightly it threatened to break. “Better think twice, kid! You know what'll happen if they learn the truth!”

The truth was so many things, some good, some bad, and it always would be that way. Mickey held the lamp in both his hands, looking at his own golden reflection shine. “The truth? The truth is... sometimes... I can be a real idiot.” Pink smoke began to drift out of one end. “Sometimes I don't listen to others when they've got things to say... And even worse, sometimes I don't think they have anything to say. Sometimes I try to do the right thing without checking if it's right. I make mistakes. I'm going to keep making mistakes. But if that's the only way I'll learn... then I'd better be prepared to make a lot more!” He held the lamp up to the sky, smiling wide. “So if what I'm going to do is a mistake... then I'll learn everything I can from it!”

“I WISH FOR THE FINAL PIECE OF THE MAP TO APPEAR IN MY HANDS!”

The lamp suddenly erupted with pink smoke, swirling all around Mickey then shooting forth into the sky. There came a melodious giggle. “As you wish, my Master!” And in a brilliant glow that awed all in the town, a rainbow wind twisted all around Mickey's now open and outstretched hand – when the colors cleared, a familiar piece of paper laid in his palm.

As the smoke faded, Minnie now stood next to Mickey, her beautiful smile back in its rightful place. She didn't say anything just yet – she doubted she'd be heard, as the audience went into roaring applause and huzzahs, the crewmembers joining up together at the front of the crowd to wave at their friends. Mortimer stood in place, stunned that his “brilliant plan” had fallen to pieces, more-so than he knew, given the shadows inching around behind the closed curtain. Mickey's scar glowed for a brief time, and there was a hint of exhaustion to both mice, but both things seemed to matter very little compared to gazing at each other's eyes.

“I'm sorry for hitting you,” said Minnie.

“I'm sorry for deserving to get hit,” said Mickey.

“KISS THE GIRL!” yelled Daisy, this time earning a ponytail-yank from everyone. “Oh, like you guys weren't thinking it!”

It was all fun and glory until Mortimer slammed his cane down on the box for the saw trick, now effectively splitting it in half without the body inside. “You asked for it, kid! Now you'll never know peace again!” He then spun on his heel to address the confused crowd. “You saw it with your very own eyes! This girl is a genie! If you get your hands on the lamp, you'll get untold power and riches!”

Mickey glanced at Minnie, who glanced back at him, and they exchanged a knowing grin. “Oh, all that?” Mickey said, giving the final piece to Minnie. “You can't con a con, Mortimer. That was just another trick. Had the smoke ready under the stage, used some mirrors to make the fancy lights, and hid the slip of paper under my sleeve.” Groans of disappointment and booing rose up once again, and some of the crowd, fed up with all the exposed lies, began to depart.

“Honestly, Mortimer,” Minnie added, enjoying every single drop of wretched misery on her former master's face, “What kind of grown-man believes in genies?”

Mortimer began to lose what little control he had over his sweat. “N-No! No, it's true! It's all true!” He could see the audience growing smaller, and his panic increased tenfold. “No! Don't leave, not yet! Just gimmie a little bit of time, and I'll prove it, I'll prove it everything!” If they didn't stay, they couldn't be robbed!

“Yeah, I wouldn't worry about that...” Mickey made an overly theatrical bow to Minnie, much like Mortimer had done before. “Minnie, if you please?”

“Gladly, Mickey.” Minnie daintily took a few steps backwards, tugging the curtain back enough to expose all three Beagles, hoisting a different weapon, having intended to club Mortimer once the show was done. They paused upon being exposed, and awkwardly waved to the remains of the crowd.

“WHAT ARE YOU MORONS DOING HERE?!” Mortimer screamed, the cane now broken in his hands, which gave him a great many number of splinters.

“Well, uh,” the Head Beagle began. “We figured, why bother robbing them, when we could grab a genie and rob everyone everywhere? … 'Course, finding out that it's not real kinda puts a bummer on things.”

The audience that had remained behind was now glaring hotly at Mortimer, some knuckles cracking and a few sleeves rolled up. Mortimer knew he was a dead man, but given this was a fishing town, he kept flopping like a water-starved fish. “No, it's real! I know it's real! I can prove it!” He then waved erratically at Mickey, starting to foam at the mouth. “I'll make a wish! Gimmie that lamp!” Mortimer lunged at Mickey, who merely had to side-step, and sent Mortimer crashing down into the street below.

“He's not really under obligation to do anything of the sort...” Minnie fingered the spell piece as if she was just checking out her nails. “But, Mickey, why not be a dear and help him out?”

“Anything for you, Minnie.” Mickey waved his hand, and held out his empty palm. “I wish for the final piece of the spell to appear in my hands.” And, because it was a wish that had already been granted, absolutely nothing happened. “Hm. Funny, that.”

“No! No, that doesn't count!” Mortimer crawled to his feet, staggering, trying to reach for Mickey but now fear and humiliation had zapped his strength. “Wish for something else! I...I... I'm Magnificent...?” But Mortimer had used up the last ounce of good will from everyone around him – the audience for being swindled, and the thieves simply doing their nature of being thieves – and high-tailed it away from the stage, being chased by all sides.

“I can't even begin to tell you how good that felt.” Minnie hopped off the stage, grinning and unable to stop.

“I've got a pretty good idea.” Mickey jumped off as well, unsure who to hug first. “Thanks, everyone! You really got me out of a bad place, and saved our hides.”

“It's what we do.” Horace said, high-fiving his wife after. “All things being equal, though, does this mean we'll be hearing more wishes from you?”

“Would make things easier by, I dunno, one-thousand-percent,” Clarabelle agreed.

“Yes...and no.” Mickey adjusted the lamp on his belt, and faced Minnie. “I've been doing this the wrong way for a long time. When I wished to feel your pain, I was trying to take away your ordeal... but from the beginning, we should've been partners. Working together, instead of me just making a wish or delaying them until the last possible second. I still need your help rescuing my parents... and we still don't know what we'll face...but if you want-”

Minnie held up her hand, cutting him off. “I'm not just partners with you. I'm a member of the great Sinbad the Sailor's crew. Everyone here has their own journey to fulfill, but they are holding it off until they can rescue the Sultan and Sultana. I'm not an outsider, I'm not just along for the ride. I'm one of you... so, just like them, I'll hold off my quest until yours is done. I won't have my freedom until your parents are free, and the Phantom Prince is defeated.”

Mickey felt his face burn, in a good way – Minnie was becoming stronger day by day, and it was amazing to see. When she was finally free, she was going to do great things, and the world would be a better place. “How about this, then?” He held out his hand. “From now on, when I want to make a wish, I ask you first. And if you want me to make a wish, you ask me. Every wish will be from the both of us.”

Minnie almost shook his hand, but quickly pulled back, holding up her pointer finger. “With the exception being, if we're all about to die, you don't wait and ask.”

The rest of the crew loudly and unanimously agreed.
“Seriously, Mickey.”
“She speaks the truth.”
“Mickey, you're great, but yeah.”
“No more Hero Mode.”
“Sí, sí, sí.”
“Yep, yep, yep.”
“Woof, woof, woof.”

“I GET IT ALREADY!” Mickey snapped, embarrassed while knowing this was a fantastically good point. “A-hem. I will try not to get myself killed by withholding on the thing that would prevent me from getting killed. Deal?”

“Deal.” Minnie shook his hand, and to make extra sure he wouldn't forget this promise, leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. Mickey went pink, happily so, and started to fall backwards, with Donald catching him.

“Hey, hey, none of that just yet!” Donald snapped his fingers, trying to prevent Mickey from going into a typical love-induced stupor. “We finally have the last piece! We can get to the forgotten kingdom, and take on the Phantom Prince! We gotta get back to the ship and prepare, this will be our greatest adventure yet, we have to be ready for anything, and he stopped listening to me ten seconds ago, didn't he?”

“Kisses are powerful things, so I've learned.” Daisy lightly nudged Donald, who gave her an amused look.

The rest of the crew laughed, relieved of so many burdens, and they all began to head back to the ship, with Mickey needing to be carried most of the way. The sun set, and the stars began to glimmer all across the world.

~*~

But the stars weren't glimmering over Pete, and the fact he no longer saw them was very low on the list of things that creeped him out. The daily beatings had finally stopped, now that Mickey was going to head straight for them. There was one last plan to play, and like almost everything that had happened since this entire mess began, Pete disagreed with it. “Why can't you just kill them all and be done with it?” he growled once the final measures were put in place. “Keeping them alive will just give them a chance to come back after us!”

The Phantom Prince sat on his throne, his body becoming wispier with each passing day. “It's easy to pass judgment on things you don't understand. All is necessary for my grand design.”

“If I don't understand it, why won't you explain it to me?” Pete clenched and unclenched his sore hands.

The Phantom Prince scoffed. “Why should I explain things to a mere servant? I know what is best, as I have always known! If my foolish father had merely done the right thing and given me the crown, we'd still be remembered!” Though it was difficult to see at first, the old sorcerer was wringing his hands. “Once I have both the genie and the Eye, I can give new life to myself, and to the kingdom! Everyone will remember that it is I who ruled, and not my weak sister!”

Little by little, Pete was regretting turning over to the side of a madman. But, if he got to rule his own kingdom, surely it'd be worth it in the end? The beatings, the humiliation, the frustration, it would be worth it all in order to be rich and powerful! Who cared about being remembered, when the present mattered the most? By the gods, he didn't even know the real name of the man he was working for – and on a very disturbing note, did the Phantom Prince even remember his own name anymore? He thought very little of the prince he abandoned, but now he did, as a note of irony – with Mickey wanting to be known as anything but his title, and the Phantom Prince craving nothing but that. What would happen when two ridiculous forces collided?

No matter. Pete would show them all. He was smarter, wiser, better, and he'd have his chance to prove it soon enough. “But this is it? The final part of the plan?”

The Phantom Prince chuckled darkly. “The final part? You could see it that way. As for me... this is only the beginning.”

Chapter Text

Goofy was once again disappointed that he didn't get to see a magic show – leaving Mickey to once again question why a man with a flying ship had any desire to see such a thing – but it was swept under the rug upon the announcement that the final piece of the map had been obtained. As much as everyone wanted to put it together and begin the last step in their journey, the captain put a veto on it.

“We gotta prepare ourselves,” he explained over supper. “Physically and mentally! Tonight, everyone gets one last training session in! We get a full night's rest, and eat a huge breakfast in the morning! Then, and only then, do we put the map together and bring the fight to the Phantom Prince.”

“He wants us there, so he's probably got a few traps set,” Horace added, but put his empty plate down in eager anticipation. “But after all the nonsense we've been through, I bet we can get through it with our eyes closed!”

Clarabelle latched onto his arm, swooning. “Aw, Horace, you're so adorable when you're optimistic!”

“I think I'm going into a depression cycle where I'm so sure we're all gunna die that I've got no choice but to say otherwise.”

Clarabelle smacked her husband upside the head, while Panchito held up his pistols. “I'll make sure every chamber is loaded and bring lots of back-up ammo! And I'll come up with a new song!”

Jose twirled his umbrella over his head. “This time, we bring everything we've got, and leave no one behind! It'll be a battle that even Lady Scheherazade couldn't imagine!”

Daisy laughed at that idea. “I don't know if she'd take that as a compliment, but I'll keep my Eye on her, every which way.”

“And don't bother checking the forecast, I've got it under control!” Donald snapped his fingers, firing off a small shot of lightning. “I'll make that Phantom Prince do a phantom wince!”

“... Really.”

“Look, everyone's coming up with cool stuff, this is hard.”

Minnie saluted, ready to offer her own aid. “I'll come up with wishes we can use to our advantage, and that way we won't be caught off guard. I won't have my freedom until the Sultan and Sultana are free, and the Phantom Prince is defeated once and for all.”

“Then we all know what we have to do,” Mickey finished, unable to stop smiling. “So let's hurry up and get to it!” The entire day with Mortimer suddenly seemed far away, in the wake of so much hope and promise. Yet, in a truly weird way, he was a little grateful for the smug rat's reappearance. As his friends began to devour their dinner, discussing possible battle strategies for the upcoming finale, Mickey understood how much he had learned from each and every one of them. In turn, he saw that not everyone was exactly the same as when he had first met them.

Donald, once shy and unsure about every step he made, was now embracing every emotion he had, laughing and arguing with vigor. Daisy, who had pushed everyone away to save herself, had come to reluctantly embrace her heart, sharing the remains of her meal with those around her. Minnie, she of lost hope and disdain for the world, could share her ideas and walk to her own chosen future with her head held high, even now offering ways Jose and Panchito could use their combined skills to form a shield around whoever needed it most.

He loved each and every one of them dearly, and he would miss them terribly when the time came to return to his kingdom. Would his own people recognize him when he came back? If this journey had established anything, it was that Mickey would not allow himself to be merely the Son of Scheherazade anymore. He had learned, he had gained, he had lost, and now it was time to find who he really was. He still had his own flaws to wrestle with – his crippling self-loathing and his anger the most important ones – but he wasn't alone. He could face these demons and defeat them. In fact, right now his biggest worry was how he could possibly get any sleep that night!

Once the plates were cleared, they wasted no time in drawing their weapons and displaying their powers. Goofy and Mickey met blade to blade, a far cry from when Mickey was first attacked by the heartless monsters and could only guess where to stick his steel. Horace and Clarabelle were their own best practice partners, only stopping to give lessons to Daisy and Minnie. Panchito shot at targets that Jose threw, and Donald went through the range of his feelings to see if he could combine any for potential power-ups, such as a happy fear that lead to a flurry of blinding snowflakes. As the sun began to fall, companions would switch, and the sessions would start up again. But Mickey quietly left early.

Pluto laid loyally at the ship's mast, knowing his master was up at the crow's nest. There Mickey stood, watching the reds, yellows and oranges melt into the dunes to give way to darkness. He remembered the first time seeing this when he had climbed onto Goofy's ship, in awe that the world could be so different. He had known so little then, been so naive, could only see the world in black and white. But like this sunset, the world and people could be many colors, and could always change. He thought of his mother and father, and hoped they would be proud of the progress he'd made. He sat down, recalling that he had insisted to his mother over and over that he was a man now and should be treated as such. In retrospect, it'd been quite silly.

Mickey heard creaking wood, and glanced over to see Minnie climbing up into the nest. “I hope I'm not bothering you.”

“Naw, it's fine.” He smiled at her, thinking that she couldn't be a bother if she tried. He pat the empty space next to him and she took the invitation. “I know I should be workin' with everyone else, but... I dunno, I guess part of me thinks I'll never be more ready than I am now.” He then chuckled quietly. “Weird part is, I should be scared, and nervous, and anxious, but...” He opened his empty hands. He was at peace, come what may.

“I think that's called hope,” Minnie replied, hands on her lap. “And I feel the same way. I didn't come here to lecture you to rejoin everyone. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” After a brief moment of hesitation, she leaned to his side, and rested her head on his shoulder.

A long time ago, Mickey's heart would've jumped into his throat at the mere idea of her skin touching his. Now he could silently put his arm around her, eyes staying on the sunset and enjoying the serene silence. Tomorrow, there was no going back. Whatever decisions either of them made, they'd have to live with it. Mickey had to go back to his home, and that was that. He exhaled deeply out of his nostrils, dispelling the last of his fears. “Minnie?”

“Hm?” Her eyes had closed, and now they opened.

“When I grant you your freedom tomorrow... you can go anywhere you like. The world's ready for you. And, if you want... my palace is ready for you too.” He'd finally said it, he'd finally gotten it out, and it was as if he could breathe naturally again. He didn't dare look at her face to spoil the moment, and in one way, felt better about having said it regardless of whatever answer she was ready to give.

Minnie, for her part, was now staring right at him, eyes wide. She had hoped to hear such a proposition, but much like her freedom, had felt she might not gain it. As always, Mickey made the impossible possible. He probably didn't even realize he was blushing. She swallowed, making her own decision. She did want to live with him, did want to spend the rest of her life with him – but it wouldn't be right unless he knew the extent of her feelings. No more games, no more denial, no more nerves getting in the way of everything. She licked her lips, and then hugged his arm, working up the last of her strength. “Mickey, I... there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a long time.” She couldn't face him, not yet, not until it was all out and done with. “I'm... I'm in.... I'm in-”

“Minnie?” Mickey suddenly interrupted her, still without turning his head in her direction.

She stopped, surprised. “What?”

“I have a feeling that what you want to tell me is pretty important.” In fact, he had a 99% chance guess of what it was, and was fighting his own desperate urge to return it. “And I want to hear it. I really do. I've been wanting to hear it since I first laid eyes on you...”

“...But?” Of course there was a “but”, and it had better be a good one.

“But it won't feel right, until you're not my slave anymore.” Mickey sat up straighter, rolling his shoulders, and taking her hands into his own. “I know by now you're your own independent person, and that whatever you feel is what you have, and not because of the lamp. Even so... I just... I have to hear it once the shackles come off, and you're... just you.” Now he finally looked at her, eyes full of guilt, with the more selfish parts of his brain kicking him over and over again. Despite that, it felt like the right thing to do, and Mickey was stubborn when it came to his own sense of morality.

Thankfully, it was one of the things Minnie admired about him, and was a part of those things she'd been about to confess to. Naturally she was disappointed that she couldn't say what her heart begged her to, but she bore no grudge. “I understand,” she said softly, her fingers intertwining with his own. It was cute to see relief flooding his face. “I've waited this long... I can wait a little longer.” She let out a melodious giggle, affectionately nuzzling her nose to his. “In fact, once I'm free, I may never stop saying it.”

Mickey had grown a lot since he first met Minnie, but an action like that was still enough to send him reeling. “Uhhh... make sure I don't take that back...” Because usually what happened in these sort of situations, as far as he understood them, was that once those certain words were said, certain actions tended to follow. Like kisses. On the lips. Why did he have to be such a good guy when he was seconds away from his first real kiss?! Being a good guy really sucked sometimes! “No, no, I meant it, don't wanna hear it until the battle is over and the day is won.” And his hormones would just have to shut up and deal with it.

Minnie wasn't exactly helping matters by now choosing to crawl and sit in his lap, but he eventually managed to get his heart to stop beating like a rambunctious drummer. Once his body settled, he wrapped his arms around her, and she nestled up comfortably. Tomorrow was a big day, and it couldn't come any sooner. “Can I say I'm really glad I met you?” Minnie asked, her voice a delicate whisper, her fingers curled up against his chest.

Mickey laughed a little. “Yeah, sure. I think that counts.” He stroked her arm, content to watch her, content to be with her, content to have this moment of time that he knew wouldn't last forever. “And, for the record... same here.” She had changed him, and he'd changed her, and they couldn't have been more grateful. That feeling of hope grew stronger and stronger as they established that new goal together. Tomorrow, they'd be master and servant no longer. A new bond would form, pure and everlasting, and theirs would be a new life they could spend together.

When the stars began to glitter in the night sky, they made no wishes, as they were now so full of belief for their dreams that they saw no need to. No one and nothing could take this hope away.

Not even Daisy, who Donald had to yank away three times over -“C'MON IT'LL BE FUNNY!”

~*~

Somehow, they all managed to sleep a dreamless sleep, and once they were among the waking world, every single member of the crew was filled with expectation. They all wore great big smiles, and Goofy had to constantly remind everyone that eating too fast would make them all sick, even though he'd finished his eggs in three seconds. How, was best not questioned.

The meal was eaten, and everyone gathered outside, steeling themselves. Donald hefted the rolled-up magic carpet over his shoulder, and Mickey brought out all the pieces of the map. He laid them out on the steering wheel separately, to take one last look at them. No one dared to say a word as Mickey began to place one on top of the other, as if they were pages of a book instead of a flat map. Once the fourth piece was put on top, the strange scribbles began to take on a white glow, illuminating what once was lost, the pages slowly turning themselves. Now they changed and twisted, creating letters Mickey could read, and he did so out loud.

“A kingdom lost, a time forgotten,
The rightful rule misbegotten,
Take me there, take me hence,
Here we stand – our last defense!”

Before the spell was cast, Mickey was puzzled – the words seemed to be insulting the Phantom Prince, so he couldn't have created this spell. So who did? But there was no time for curious inquiries – smog began to swirl out of the pages, fast and rapid, enveloping the entire ship in the blink of an eye. Friends grasped each other's hands and the sails billowed, a harsh wind picking up. They then heard a great roar, not like that of a lion or a monster, but the sound of the very earth itself ripped in two. No one wanted to break the circle and so they stayed, as the flying ship...

… dropped.

“I HAVE SO MANY REGRETS IN MY LIFE!” Horace screamed, and a swift kick from his wife kept him from going into a full blown panic attack.

“This is a new one,” Goofy had to shout over the howling winds, eyebrows raised as he tried to squint through the smog. “Usually when we put a map on the wheel, it just starts leading itself to the destination. This must be some spell.”

“Is anyone else noticing a huge change in scenery?” Donald asked, willing up a small wind of his own to try and break through the darkness. Now everyone could see what he meant, but only briefly, as the sun was blocked out – by the earth itself! The ground had split up, and now they were going underneath it, walls of rock and dirt going above them.

Mickey's clever brain put an answer to everyone's question. “Hang on, no wonder no one could ever find the lost kingdom! It's... underground?!” Even as he said it and could see it to be true, he was in disbelief. He had so many questions and doubted he'd ever get all the answers. But with a shake of his head, his resolve strengthened. Ultimately, it didn't matter where the kingdom was or how it came to be this way – it was only the place his parents were kept, and once they were rescued, it could crumble to ashes for all he cared.

The ship went down deeper, deeper, deeper still, until it became difficult to see, the sun unable to touch them anymore. Just as they were about to be plunged into inky darkness, glimpses of light began to glimmer from the walls of earth around them. The smog began to clear, and soon the crew could see they were surrounded by glowing crystals of all kinds, a treasure that had been abandoned centuries ago. The ship itself began to slow to a stop, and the walls of earth above began to close back up. The “map” on the ship's wheel stopped glowing, the pages falling to the deck silently. One by one, the group began to let go, with Mickey going first to pick up the fallen pieces. For all he knew, the way in was the same way out, so he tucked them into his waistband for safe-keeping.

“Take a look at that!” Goofy declared, the first one to look over the side of the ship at the world below. “It's the forgotten kingdom... I think?”

Everyone joined his side, and his confusion was understandable. Mickey's internal remark about the kingdom crumbling to ashes was more than metaphorical. Maybe once upon a time there had been tall impressive buildings and busy streets interwoven through homes, but there was little here now than debris and fallen relics. There were no people, no animals, not even a hint of a dead plant to be found. Given enough time, a structure could decay and collapse, but this seemed a far worse version than time's steady hand – it was as if whatever had been there was ripped apart, and now continued to die. Even now, as Mickey could see, one part of a dwelling lost a piece of roof, but before it could hit the ground, it dissolved into nothing. The shadowy remains reminded him of the brief glimpse he'd gotten of the Phantom Prince – and perhaps whatever had happened to him also happened to his kingdom.

“Kind of hoped our grand battle wouldn't be in such a dump,” Daisy huffed, helping Panchito and Jose lower the anchor into place. “Who'd want to rule over this graveyard?”

“The guy's evil, no one said he was sane,” Donald reminded her as he untied the magic carpet. “You ready, Mickey?”

“Ready as I'll ever be,” Mickey replied, and he was the first one to descend down the rope, his heart pounding. This time, no one would be left behind to guard the ship – mostly because, as far as they could see, there was no one to guard it from. So when the entire crew touched the cold stone ground, they were joined by Pluto, and the hovering carpet. “Minnie, can we get the first one done?”

“Now's a good a time as any, Mickey.”

“Good. Then I wish my sword won't ever break, and my carpet won't ever be torn.” The day before, Minnie had kept her word and created several ideas about wishes to make for the final battle. But the timing would have to be perfect – the last thing Mickey and Minnie needed was to be physically worn out in the heat of battle. The lamp puffed pink smoke, and both the sword inside the scabbard and the carpet floating above their heads glowed the same color for a brief second. Both mice took a breath, allowing their strength to be drained. It wasn't enough to cause a disadvantage in battle, but they would need to wait before doing it again.

“How are we going to find the Sultan and Sultana in all this mess?” Panchito asked, trying to squint.

“Maybe in that gigantic golden palace?” Jose pointed out in all sincerity, as everyone had been so focused on facing forward no one bothered turning, say, left.

The palace wasn't exactly in front of them, but now that everyone was facing the same way, it did feel a little embarrassing they hadn't seen it earlier. It was the only building that was left perfectly intact without nary a scratch, shining in bright colors as if the sands of time had never fallen.

“How come that looks so snazzy and everything else... doesn't?” Clarabelle scratched her head.

“If I had to take a guess,” Mickey said as he began to walk, the others following suit, “a guy as arrogant as this probably used his magic to keep the most important place to him nice and shiny. He's full of himself... and that's how we'll take him down.” Anyone with an ego this big wouldn't expect defeat, so he'd leave plenty of openings. It didn't need any further explanation than that, but Mickey was tempted to say something anyway, as the dead kingdom was incredibly silent. There was no wind to be heard, or even the sound of vermin skittering through the walls. There wasn't even any smell of decay or death, as if whoever had lived here died so long ago there wasn't a trace of remains – or that whatever happened to this place also “happened” to the living. Neither of these were pleasant thoughts, and Mickey tried not to think of them, which was difficult. In essence, they were walking upon the world's largest graveyard.

As they all began to approach the mighty palace, the ground began to rumble, and off in the remains there were the familiar sounds of chomping fangs and powerful talons hitting the ground. “Sounds like he made us a welcome party! Whatever happens, keep moving forward!”

Just as Mickey made his bold declaration, heartless monsters pounced into view, ready to start their battle all over again. This time, there was no fear or surprise from any of the crew, who knew what to do and where to strike. As long as they struck the heart-marks, their foes would know defeat, and with guns out, swords drawn, and fists and feet flailing, the heroes set out to war. The creatures took on new forms, mismatched beasts from the depths of the underworld in warped shapes and designs, all with the intent to destroy. As the fight began, everyone remembered Mickey's words – they had to get to the palace, and nothing would stand in their way!

With his blade drawn, Mickey sliced off the wing of a spellican, with his trusty hound tackling down a mushroom abomination, allowing him to keep dashing toward the front steps of the palace. As he ran, he saw movement – and what he saw startled him in more ways than one.

There on the first step stood the Phantom Prince, arrogantly watching the battle with a confident sneer as he towered over his two victims. One was the proud Sultan Al, his body ragged and worn out, his toned shape now thin and frail, his mighty beard stained with flecks of dirt and blood. As horrified as Mickey was to see his almighty father reduced to such a state, it was the other prisoner that threw him off. What in the world was Pete doing here?! He and Al were on their knees, wrists bound by chains, their heads beginning to lift as they heard the ongoing battle.

“Why is the kingdom's advisor here?!” Mickey shouted, trying to think of a logical explanation. “He's supposed to be back home and taking care of things while I'm gone!”

“Friend of yours?” Donald asked, trying to hold down a knightly aberration.

“Friend is a stretch...” Mickey shook his head, now was not the time for semantics! “Okay, now he's part of the rescue mission!” And where was his mother? If he kept on asking questions, he'd never get anywhere, he needed to move! “Minnie, you got it in you for another wish?”

“Yes, but just one!” A chameleon with spikes all along its back was trying to trap Minnie with its tongue, but she'd grabbed it at the right time and was now tying him up with his own appendage. “Make it quick!”

“I wish for the chains on my father and Pete to break!” As soon as the words left his mouth, he could see pink smoke around the two men. Pete stayed perfectly still, but Al held up his freed wrists in wonder – before jumping to his feet and trying to punch the Phantom Prince's lights out. “Way to go, Pa! That's my old man!” It was a failed effort, since the Phantom Prince dodged the blow and Al was too weak to catch himself, taking a tumble down the steps. “Pa!”

Mickey ran as fast as he could, the wish creating a flash of pain in his chest, Pluto barking at his heels. Why wasn't Pete moving, and why was the Phantom Prince so calm about everything? Maybe Pete's legs were chained too? He didn't have time to check with Minnie if she was up for another wish - “Pluto, get my father to the magic carpet, and keep him safe!” he then stuck two fingers in his mouth, calling the carpet itself for the command.

Pluto was quick to obey, running ahead of Mickey to bite down on an approaching cat-like creature. Once it was sufficiently scared off, he pushed Al's chest with his head, trying to get him to sit up. Al got up dizzily, and hugged the dog in gratitude. “When we get home, you are getting an entire mountain of bones to bury!” Pluto licked his cheek, before taking a mouthful of his sleeve to help him towards the oncoming carpet.

As much as Mickey wanted to embrace his father, sentimentality might get him killed. If Pete was still restrained, he needed to be freed and fast. “Hang on, Pete, I'm coming!” Passing by his father and pet, he raced up the stairs, sword out, ready to cut down whatever was still holding Pete back. “Don't worry, I'll get you out of here!” But as Mickey made it to Pete's side, the chains were broken, so why -

“Thanks, your highness, I'm really grateful... that you're still such a sucker!” Mickey hadn't prepared for Pete to be here in the first place – so he also wasn't prepared for a heavy fist to slug him right in the face, or the follow-up strike to his stomach. Mickey gagged, feeling his breakfast making a return, unable to hear his father scream his name. “But it's time to cut you down to size!” Though Mickey had trained diligently and had increased his strength, he was still much, much smaller compared to Pete, who easily lifted him by his wrist and snatched his sword.

“MICKEY!” Minnie shrieked, and at once everyone was aware of the threat to their favorite friend. In a frantic frenzy, they scrambled past their foes, trying to save Mickey from what seemed to be a bloody death.

Mickey was stunned, his eyes swimming in pain. “P-Pete?! You're really going to kill me?!”

“Aw, quit bein' a drama prince. I ain't after you... you're just delivering the real prize!” With one swift slice of the sword, he cut off Mickey's belt – and the lamp attached to it clattered to the floor.

Mickey had truly thought he prepared for everything, every scenario and any plot twist. But here and now, he was facing his greatest nightmare. Though he tried to wrestle himself free from Pete, each pull told him the fight was over. There was nothing he could do – he'd been played from the start. He was going to lose her. He was going to lose everyone.

Now did the Phantom Prince move, instantly picking it up in his smoldering hands, holding it up to the heavens. “At last, my treasure has returned to me!”

“NO!” Mickey kicked about in Pete's grasp, repeating the same word over and over as terror flooded his body. “NO NO NO NOOOOOO!”

It was too late – all the Phantom Prince had to do was rub it once, twice, three times – and the world turned pink.

The lamp shook and shivered, colorful pink smoke spewing out of every orifice, sparkles and fireworks exiting from the tip, all just as the fateful day Mickey had accidentally made the lamp his own. The golden cuffs on Mickey's wrists turned into ashes, swirling in the air until they reformed on the Phantom Prince's wrists, no longer sharing Mickey's name. With them gone, Pete tossed Mickey down the stairs, sending him crashing into his father. Once more did the ethereal woman rise from the smoke, and once more did she make the creed of the genies known.

“THOU SHALL OWN THY GENIE UNTIL THE LAMP IS TOUCHED BY ANOTHER.
THOU SHALL NOT MAKE THE SAME WISH MORE THAN ONCE.
THOU SHALL NOT MAKE THY GENIE SHED TEARS.”

As the woman vanished, the Phantom Prince waved a hand, and all the heartless monsters froze in place. “I don't think I'll need any of these anymore. It's a shame, I felt really creative with this last batch.”

The crew was momentarily stupefied by this horrid change of events, with Minnie staring at the new name on her wrist in despair. Goofy broke the spell over them first, his face a rare shade of pure anger. “Get your filthy hands off that lamp, you no good thief!” His sword was drawn, his blood hot -

“I wish that you, Captain, cannot harm me.”

And then he fell face forward, not out of his typical clumsiness, but with all of his energy completely drained. He struggled to get to his knees, to stop the Phantom – yet with that thought, his sword flopped out of his hands, as if his own fingers refused to obey. “You... you...!” Mickey flinched, feeling the wish rip through him, and his father held him, not knowing what else to do.

Minnie had her hands out, unwillingly using her magic on her friend, and trembled, her fingers twitching with power. Daisy grabbed her by the wrist, trying to turn her around. “Minnie, stop!”

“I – I can't!” Minnie tried to pull her hands back, tried to exert control over things she couldn't stop. “As long as he holds the lamp, I can't do anything else!”

“Then let's get it back!” Donald held up his hand, ready to summon up his most powerful storm yet-

“I wish that Donald cannot use his powers against me.”

And he fell to one knee, feeling the crackle of lightning burning inside his own skin, choking in untold agony. Mickey's chest seared with torment - Daisy screamed - “I wish that Daisy cannot use her Eye to see what I don't desire her to see.” - and held her forehead, as it throbbed in pain, Mickey clawing at his neck - “I wish that Horace and Clarabelle can't use their skills to hurt me, I wish that Panchito cannot aim his pistols at me, I wish that Jose can't burn a single hair on my head, I wish that Pluto cannot bite me, I wish that Mickey cannot draw his blade on me.”

With each awful wish made, another member of the crew collapsed, try as they might to fight it otherwise. But even the sheer idea of trying to go against the wishes made their bodies twist and turn, making their struggles all the worse. Minnie covered her mouth with her hands, her legs trembling at what she had been forced to do – and with every wish, her own strength drained and – oh, Mickey! She sprinted toward her former Master, who lay in his father's arms, writhing in physical suffering.

“Mickey!” Al tried to hold his son upright, panic in every letter. “Mickey, what's happening to you?!” But Mickey was so devastated by every wish made that even speech was difficult.

“You don't think I spent all this time without a moment of preparation, do you?” The Phantom Prince chuckled, amused by the afflictions he had cast on everyone. “Now I have everything I need to restore my kingdom's glory! With Scheherazade's All-Seeing-Eye, and now, my genie returned to me, nothing can stand in my way!”

Minnie clasped Mickey's hand, ready to beg forgiveness, but she had caught a word that was so utterly confusing and yet so profoundly clear that she couldn't think. “Re... returned...?” No. It wasn't possible. She knew all her masters, and he wasn't in any of her memories – which – which – which meant - “You... you're my first Master?”

“First Master?” The Phantom Prince laughed at the question, as accurate as it was. “Who do you think created you? I did erase your memories... but it seems you've finally caught on. You were my greatest masterpiece! When my father asked my sister and I to develop a way to help our people, I was the genius who came up with a perfect servant! One who could grant your every desire! You were supposed to be my way to the throne!”

Minnie staggered – she still couldn't remember any of this, and she wanted to deny it, wanted no part of his wicked schemes, but that feeling came – the one that had kept telling her to remember would be cruel, that she must never think of it, must never go back to that time. Now that feeling told her he was right. All this time – she'd been part of the enemy, created from the same man who had hurt Mickey so much – Mickey's hand suddenly found her wrist.

Sweat was pouring down his face, yet he still stood, eyes hellfire and voice dark. “Minnie... is not... your servant,” he snarled, breathing deeply, venom beating with every throb of his heart. “She is not part of you! She is her own person! And I won't let you hurt her!”

“A person?” The Phantom Prince cupped his chin in thought, not that this bothered him too deeply. “I suppose she was, once. But then I made her into something useful.”

Minnie held herself. She didn't want to hear this.

“You remember that idiotic Imp? They were close to replicating my design, but they missed a vital ingredient – a mortal soul.”

No no no she didn't want to know didn't want to hear didn't want to remember stop stop stop -

“And what better soul to serve my needs than my own daughter?”

And then it...all...came...back.

DADDY PLEASE STOP IT HURTS
SILENCE YOU WILL OBEY ME
BROTHER HOW COULD YOU
YOU KILLED MY PRECIOUS GRANDDAUGHTER
I WILL BE SULTAN
I WILL BE REMEMBERED
MY FIRST WISH IS TO TAKE THE LIVES OF MY UNGRATEFUL FAMILY!

Bits and pieces swirled and slammed into her brain, overloading her mind, a pain so great that it could not be handled by any natural mortal soul. Her eyes rolled back, all of it was too much, too much, TOO MUCH – Al caught her, trying to keep her steady and awake. “Child! Child, snap out of it, you mustn't go back!” Any second now Minnie was ready to faint, to will her brain to forget it all again, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Yet she did not cry, as if something said that if she did, that truly would be the end of things. Just as it did back then – back – there was still a piece missing, a vital piece -

All of this happened within seconds – when Mickey heard the word “daughter”, all rational sense inside of him was destroyed. Though his bones and muscles ached, all of it went numb, and were replaced by sheer, hard, deep hatred. There was nothing in him but hate, hate, hate, and he was blind to all else. “You... MONSTER!” He charged up the stairs, anger frothing from his mouth, not caring that he didn't have a sword, he'd tear the Phantom apart with his bare hands!

Except the wishes wouldn't allow it. “I wish you can't lay a finger on me, Son of Scheherazade.” Mickey's strength gave out, far too exhausted from all the desires granted. As soon as he came within swinging distance, his knees gave out, and his hands were immobile. He fought as hard as he could, trying to get some muscle to work, eyes swimming in tears for how gravely Minnie had been hurt, but it did no good. The Phantom Prince lifted his foot, and kicked him in the chest, sending him back down. “A valiant effort, but all for naught. The time has come to end our game. But you all now have the highest honor of witnessing my reign come back to life! It's a fitting finale for your journey.” With a snap of his fingers, the heartless monsters dissolved, as their purpose was no more. “I wish for the Sultan and Sinbad's crew to be trapped within the dungeons!”

Pete had been content to watch the entire heroic mission fall, but hearing that the Phantom had used his own daughter as guinea pig had been enough to make his jaw drop and question a few things. If the Phantom cared so little about his own flesh and blood, then how much could Pete get away with? He only found his voice when the last wish was made. “Dungeon?” Pete balked, even as the ground began to shake. “What are you doing?! You should kill them!”

Pete's cry went ignored, as thick, gnarly vines shot up from the ground, twisting around the legs of the crew, even managing to capture the carpet. One by one, they each began to be pulled down into the earth, calling out for each other, trying to hold each other, but before they sunk in, they all echoed the same.

“MICKEY! MINNIE!”

Mickey was the very last, and only then did Minnie “wake up” from her past, seeing her beloved pulled down into the deep. She screamed and tried to grab his hands, knowing that no matter how much she pulled, she couldn't save him. He held on tightly, but his fingers began to slip.

“I'll come back for you!” Mickey shouted as he felt the earth swallowing up his chest. “Don't give up! I'll free you, I promise! I PROMISE!” They held on as long as bones would allow, and with one, last, pull – he was gone.

And she was alone. Oh, Pete was there, his doubts and worries now stronger than ever before, the Phantom was there, laughing madly in his triumph, but she was alone, alone, alone.

“My reign begins anew! Cast out all hope and blot out the sun, FOR MY KINGDOM SHALL LIVE FOREVER!”

Chapter Text

When the earth swallowed Mickey up, his body decided enough was enough and finally, mercifully, passed out. When his consciousness returned, he couldn't tell how much time had passed, if any had at all. All he could do was lay still, his back touching a cold floor, his body rolling in waves of pain and numbness, back and forth.

It hurt to breathe, it hurt to think, and he knew there'd be no end to it. Minnie was gone, her freedom snatched away, and now she was being abused by her own father. That last fact alone brought a million questions, but he was far too exhausted to concentrate on anything but his own grief. Minnie, Minnie, Minnie - he had to find a way to keep his promise, to get her out of here, to tell her his feelings – his eyes felt wet, but he couldn't even muster the strength to open his eyelids, and allowed his tears to roll down.

Then came a soft touch, gently wiping away his tears with delicate fingers. The touch was warm and familiar, and he longed for his mother now more than -

His eyes suddenly flew open. “Ma!”

Indeed, as his vision cleared, there sat Lady Scheherazade, the weaver of his destiny. Her once beautiful dress was now in rags and filth, her raven dark hair in a tangled mess, and just like his father, there were signs of weak muscle and bags under her eyes. But despite all this, she was still as radiant and beautiful as his birthday, especially when she smiled. “It's wonderful to see you again, my darling child.”

“Ma!” Mickey sputtered again, awash in new tears and relief. For the time all he could was say her maternal title over and over, scrambling to get up and hold her as tightly as his body would allow. Her thin arms wrapped around him, and he could feel the drips of her tears joining his. It felt like an eternity since he last saw his beloved mother, and now she was here, and he never wanted to let her go. He wanted to apologize for being such a spoiled brat, for all the delays it took to save her, for being unable to save her at all, but all he could do was sob like a little boy.

Another pair of arms joined the embrace, and Mickey looked up to see his father around them, and that only made Mickey weep even more. Proud father, dear mother, he loved them more than there were stars in the sky. It felt wrong to be happy in such a terrible situation, yet there was definite joy to be found here, in the glow of family. He was afraid to wake up from this dream – and a loud honk told him otherwise. Blinking, he glanced behind him, to see that this very large cell was occupied by the rest of his crew, the sound having been Goofy blowing his nose into a hanky, overwhelmed at the reunion. The absurdity of it all managed to bring Mickey into the present.

“Um, well, everyone...” Mickey tried to start, sitting awkwardly in his mother's lap. “These are my parents... Sultan Muhtim Algalb of Rao, and Sultana Scheherazade.”

“Kinda figured that out by now,” Daisy said dryly, but it was the only bite she'd allow herself. She then smoothed down her dress, put her hands on her lap, and bowed her head low in reverence, with the rest of the crew following suit. Not only were they in the presence of royalty, but also of a woman whose name had become legendary. The carpet lay uselessly on the ground, and Pluto slowly padded over to his master, whining quietly.

In turn, Al placed a hand on his chest and returned the gesture, with Scheherazade doing the same, speaking as she did. “You have our eternal gratitude, brave ones, for protecting our son and guiding him here. I have watched your noble needs, and could not have entrusted my precious one to any better hands.”

Mickey finally crawled out of his mother's lap, trying to keep his mind and heart steady. “Ma... why didn't you tell me about your All-Seeing-Eye? Why did you make me think all those stories about Sinbad were made up? Did you know what was going to happen with the Phantom Prince?” It was difficult not to spill out a dozen questions at once.

Scheherazade sighed deeply, with Al taking her hand for comfort. “Oh, my child... I wanted to tell you everything ever since you were born. Every day, I planned to... and every day, my fear won out. My gift comes with a terrible price.” She mournfully shared a look with Daisy, who knew all too well the burdens of the talent. “Before I met your father, I couldn't trust anyone. I was so sure that if anyone learned about my Eye, I would be used as a tool or a weapon... or that one day, the Phantom Prince would rise again and find me. Everyone who has the Eye has been afraid of the day he might try to rule once more. For the longest time, I thought I'd be alone, and that I deserved to be alone.”

Mickey balked – not only did this not sound like the confident, happy woman he grew up with, it also sounded startlingly enough like his own thoughts. Scheherazade graced her husband with a grateful smile. “But when I heard about the tragedies happening in Rao... I found the courage to use my gift for good. I thought perhaps I could hide my gift under the guise of storytelling, and as you all know, it worked. I wanted to keep my secret... but I fell in love. And I couldn't hide anything from the man I adored. I told him the truth the day after we married.”

“She wanted to tell the kingdom,” Al continued for her, “But I told her not to. The idea of a woman saving a kingdom with her stories, it brought hope and peace to our land. It made people feel like even the most average person was capable of miracles. Ultimately... my good will only wound up hurting my beloved. She was carrying such a heavy weight on her shoulders, and I was so blind to it, until the day we had you.”

“Me?” Mickey replied a little stupidly, pointing at himself. “What did I have to do with it?”

Scheherazade took Mickey's hands into her own, remembering how small they used to be. “I knew you'd grow up hearing about how I saved our kingdom with my stories, and all the praise I heard every day from everyone about how great and amazing I was... I thought if you knew the truth... you'd be ashamed of me, and perhaps come to hate me.”

Mickey's hands immediately clasped her own, almost angry at such an accusation. “How could you think – Ma, I could never hate you! You're my mother, I'll always love you! And Pa too! You mean the world to me! I'd fight a thousand Phantom Princes if it meant seeing you again!” He might've started crying again, had Goofy not let out another huge honk into his hanky.

Al and Scheherazade shared a touched, grateful look, before Scheherazade pressed her forehead to her son's. “And we'll always love you too, our most important treasure. I loved you from the moment I held your tiny body in my arms. That's why I couldn't bear the thought of your hate...so, instead... I began to loathe myself. Every day, every hour, I was convinced I was a terrible, awful woman, who could lie to her own child. There were days I couldn't even stand to hear my own name.”

Now Mickey was left speechless. Of all the surprising things he'd learned about his mother since he started his journey, hearing that his mother hated herself as deeply as Mickey hated himself was the most stunning of them all. They'd both been bottling up their true feelings out of loyalty to the family, terrified to reveal the truth. In the end, he really was his mother's son, wasn't he? Scheherazade lifted Mickey's hands up to kiss them. “As your birthday began to approach, when you'd finally become a man, I knew I couldn't do it anymore. But I also knew it would take much more than a simple admission for you to believe me. That's why I sought out Sinbad, and why I requested the flying carpet... so I could prove to you that my Eye was real, and that I could show the entire kingdom who I really was. Even if it meant drawing the attention of the Phantom Prince...I wanted to be honest with you.”

“There was no talking her out of it,” Al ended with a tired smile. “There is no one quite as stubborn and wonderful as your mother. And we never gave up hope that you would come for us. She's told me of your quest, of the friends you made and the lives you've saved... we are so proud of you, Mickey.”

Mickey gazed up at the faces of his parents, having finally gotten what he wanted – a right to earn their adoration, having done something besides merely being their blood. He knew he'd done many great things, and wanted little more to bask in this happiness. But he couldn't. His hands curled up, and he began to stand. “There's nothing to be proud of... I came all this way to save you, and here I am, locked up right with you!”

“Mickey, don't!” Donald began to get up, ready to defend his best friend. “We all got tricked!”

“But Minnie's freedom was my responsibility!” Mickey argued back, fists clenched. “I should've kept a better eye on the lamp! I should never have let Pete get near it! I should have... I should have...” Looking back, there were a hundred things he could have done differently. Questioning more why Pete was there, focusing on getting his father to safety, using a wish to just defeat the damned Prince - “This is all my fault!”

As expected, he started to hear the opposite from friends and family, saying that of course it wasn't, he did his best, he was trying – except for Goofy, who was stuffing the wet hanky into a pocket. “Okay, so it's your fault.”

Now that got everyone to shut up at once, thrown off. They were all so mad they didn't know quite how to begin yelling at him, so Goofy took advantage of the silence. “I've been hearing you say that every time you make a mistake, so, I figure, if you say it's your fault, then it is. Mostly 'cause I figure you've been telling yourself that every time and it's not doin' a lick of good, so maybe hearing it from someone else might. The only other person who ever told you to stop that was Minnie, and she needs our help, doesn't she?”

Al glanced at his wife. “And here I thought you were exaggerating about his speeches.”

“They are good ones, my love.”

Mickey blinked once, twice, looked at the ground, and then up. Funny how things looked once you took an outsider's perspective – true, the only one who actually agreed that Mickey bungled this up badly was Minnie, and it was part of why he cared for her so deeply. Forcing open old wounds wasn't going to heal him. He remembered the day he first met the Captain, and how Goofy had essentially forced Mickey to fight for something for the first time. Perhaps Scheherazade had thought her son would learn from Sinbad's stories, but only when he met the man in the flesh had any lessons been taught. “You're... you're right, Goofy. I don't like how things ended up... but that doesn't mean this is the end of anything. We're going to break out of here, and we're going to save Minnie!”

“How're you going to do that if you can't even save yourselves?”

Everyone had been so absorbed in the confrontation that they failed to realize the latest guest in their crowd. There, standing in front of the thick black bars stood Pete, proudly smirking down at the prisoners. “Aw, sorry, was I interrupting a monologue?”

“YOU!” Mickey's anger roared with a hot vengeance, and he launched himself at the bars, clawing like a wild animal, trying grab any part of Pete to make him Pete. “How could you do this us?! Were you with him the entire time?!”

“Took you long enough to figure it out,” Pete sneered, arms crossed, still holding onto the sword he stole from Mickey. “You were supposed to be taken away with your parents on your birthday... but your mama went and messed it all up. So the Phantom Prince yanked me away to be a spy.”

“We took you in as one of our own!” Al objected, on his feet with everyone else, swinging a fist into the air. “How could you betray us like this? We gave you everything! Clothing, food, money, a roof over your head... you had our trust!”

“It's your own fault for thinking you can trust anyone!” Pete scoffed, head held high. “You knew I was rotten the moment you laid eyes on me, but you still went ahead and let me in. If anyone's to blame, it's Scheherazade! She thought she was so great, she could turn anyone into anything she wanted! All I've ever been to you was a pet project!”

“I never saw you that way.” Scheherazade was the only one who didn't speak with flames on her tongue, instead resting her hand on Mickey's shoulder in a futile effort to draw him back. “Pete... I took you in because I pitied you.”

Pete had been ready to fire off another hurtful remark, except he hadn't prepared for this revelation. He choked, lacking the proper vocabulary to rightfully word his question. “You... you what?”

“Of course I knew you were a bad seed from a badder family. With my Eye, how could I not? But the world had already seen fit to judge you and prevent you from ever being more than what you came from. If things continued that way, you would have been a prisoner of your own making. I felt sorry for you... and I thought if someone came to you with a hand of friendship for the first time, you might see things another way. I didn't take you in because I loved myself so much... I took you in because I hated myself so deeply, that I needed to make it right by someone else.”

The former adviser was a large hefty man, but after hearing that admission, he appeared to shrink down several times. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. A weird feeling was twinging in his gut, one he'd never felt before, so he had no chance of recognizing it as guilt. As far as he knew, it was indigestion. He knew all along that the royal rulers were naive and foolish, but this was – how could anyone actually care about him? How could she even say such a thing after all he'd done? He – He was better than everyone, smarter than everyone... wasn't he? The twinging feeling became stronger, and it was also on his hip -

Which alerted him to the fact Mickey was inches away from yanking his sword back. All at once, his villainous urges returned. “Back off, brat!” He drew the blade across Mickey's arm, cutting him deeply, and Mickey launched himself backwards, clutching his injury. He landed in his mother's embrace, who cried out his name, and his father let out a serious of dark expletives about Pete's future. Pete's heart beat hard – he didn't feel like looking at their faces anymore. “I... I'm getting a whole kingdom out of this deal! What do I need your pity for? I'll have power, and nothing's more important than that!” He turned on his heel, trying to believe the words he just said. He deserved the kingdom, and he was going to prove it, somehow.

He heard Mickey yelling his name off in the distance, and continued to hear it even when he left the dungeon. He had a bad feeling he'd be hearing it in his sleep.

~*~

The dungeon was housed underneath the palace, and it was a steady walk back up to the golden rooms. By that time, Pete had settled his nerves, and was ready to demand that the Phantom Prince send him back to Rao so he could begin his reign. He walked right to the throne room, threw open the doors -

And had a vase thrown right over his head, smashing to the floor behind him.

He stared at nothing, then looked behind him to confirm it happened, before the scene in front of him properly registered. The Phantom Prince was laying out maps and texts, ready to restart his kingdom, and Minnie was making this very difficult. She was ripping the maps, throwing the books, trying to flip the table, and then launching herself at the Prince, trying to bite and punch and kick her back to the lamp. Every time she got close to him, the Prince merely grabbed her by the arm and threw her away like a ragdoll. She'd get up within seconds, ready to start all over, and the once proud, regal throne room now appeared incredibly shabby due to this back and forth fight.

“What's going on here?!” Pete asked, stupefied, having expected Minnie to be a broken doll that had lost all hope. “She's like a wild animal! Do something about it, wish her to stop!”

Minnie turned around as she heard him - “You, this is your fault!” - and picked up a stray lit candle to throw. “Mickey's going to break out of that dungeon, and you're both going to pay!”

Yes, it would have been easy to give in to the grief of her returned memories – to be lost in the sands of time as she remembered her dear aunt, her doting grandfather, and a father that saw her only as a tool. Part of her wanted to lay down and die as she knew she'd been the very weapon that took the lives of her family. Despite all this, there were still gaps in her memory, ones she both wanted and didn't want to get back. The biggest gap was what happened after she was forced to get rid of her aunt and grandfather, and before she was found by a new master out in the desert.

These things mattered – but not as much as her loved ones who were still alive and still fighting. If they weren't going to give up, why should she? Mickey made her a promise, and he was going to keep it. In turn, she'd do everything in her power to help them and help herself. She was running out of projectiles, and settled for her body, charging at Pete and chomping down on his arm. He yelped, and frantically tried to pull her off. “Knock it off, you little brat!”

“Let her fight,” the Phantom Prince said dismissively. “It will do her no good. One day, that fire will burn out, and she'll be the perfect pawn again.” In fact, for his plans, it'd probably be for the best that she wasn't devoid of hope yet. The first time he had her power, he'd made a fatal error, and he wasn't eager to do it again. “I'll begin making the portal for your return home, but I need quiet and concentration. Go take her outside or something.”

“What is she, a doberman?!” Pete managed to pry her off, and tried to hold her off at an arm's distance. “You're her master, act like it! If I had the lamp, I'd have her treat me like a king!” What was this idiot thinking? He kept his powerful foes alive, and now he had the entire world in a lamp and was taking his time with it! It was just as Pete thought all along, he truly was the smartest person alive.

“Don't speak of matters you don't understand,” the Phantom Prince growled, growing impatient. “I gave you an order, so follow it! I am about to restore my kingdom, and unless you literally want to be one of its building blocks, you'll do as I say!” With that “settled”, he turned his back towards Pete, and began to work on the portal, willing a black orb into his palms. Once the nuisance was gone, he'd begin real work on his kingdom. He could simply wish Pete back to the kingdom, but it was best to let Minnie work out her anger on someone. Pete would make a suitable punching bag.

As long as she didn't cry, everything would be right.

Pete glared hard at the Prince's back, before leaving the room and slamming the doors behind him. He dragged Minnie along, who clawed at his hand and kept going on and on about how Mickey would free her, Mickey would defeat him, Mickey was unstoppable, Mickey Mickey Mickey – he was getting sick of hearing that name! He made it a few feet into the hallway before the last of his tolerance died. “Will you shut up already?” he snapped, throwing Minnie to the floor. “He's never going to defeat the Phantom Prince!”

“Yes, he will!” Minnie stood up, fists clenched, ready to attack again. “Mickey won't give up! My so-called father is nothing compared to the amazing things Mickey has done! And when he breaks free, he'll make sure you never hurt anyone ever again!” They would win, they would finish the story! Everything in her believed this, and there wasn't anything that could change it. Mickey could do anything if he put his heart and soul into it, and when it came to defeating evil and helping those he cared for, he was invincible! “Mickey is more of a man than you'll ever be!”

Pete ground his teeth, annoyed and, reluctantly, impressed. She'd been told her father took her soul as an ingredient, and she was able to move on like it was yesterday's news. If that didn't break her into submission, what would? A broken servant was the best servant, Pete was sure of this, and he had to prove it. He had to prove all the pain and suffering he went through was worth it. His fingers twitched at his side, lightly brushing by Mickey's blade, the sword dangling loosely from his belt.

He stopped – and then the idea came to him. A wicked, evil idea, one that would do just the trick. If this didn't force Minnie into obedience, nothing would. It was the best idea he ever had, and the sign he deserved the kingdom. He inhaled, then exhaled, with a victorious grin on his face. “You don't understand, little miss. He's never going to defeat the Phantom Prince... after all, a corpse can't fight.”

The word didn't hit Minnie right away. She'd been about to charge forward again, but her feet paused in place, and she blinked once. “What?” Clearly she misheard.

Pete held out the sword, lightly tapping the bloodied mark he'd made from Mickey's arm. “I got rid of the Son of Scheherazade, and all it took was one blow! He went out wailing for his mama!” He laughed darkly, a hand on his belly. “He couldn't even put up a decent fight!”

Minnie's eyes stayed on the sword, on the rich red that stared back at her. Pete was lying. He had to be. Of course he was. “You... The Phantom Prince, he... he needs him alive...”

“For what? To make Scheherazade work for him? What do we need him when we have you?” Pete sneered, using the sword to lightly tilt Minnie's chin up. “We can just wish her to use her Eye for us! Shoot, we don't need any of them anymore. They're just target practice, is all!”

No, no, no, no, Pete was lying, had to be lying, the smell of the blood was fresh, lying lying lying had to be lying, “Mickey... is a fighter, he... wouldn't...” She couldn't tear her eyes off the sword, that was Mickey's sword, Mickey wasn't dead, no, couldn't be, no no no -

“Don't you two have some stupid promise about your wishes?” Pete was more than happy to remind her. “That when its cast, he feels it too? He was way too exhausted to fight me off! In one way, you could say... it's your fault he's dead!”

Minnie stopped breathing.

“After all, if he hadn't found you, we would still need him to make Scheherazade obey us.”

I'm not expecting anything, I just wanna help! ... My name's Mickey.

“And then you had to go and make him feel sorry for you, so he made that dumb wish so he could share your pain.”

Maybe... maybe there's a chance I won't be a good person when that time comes. In that case, there's only one thing I can do.

“You had to go and fill his head with ideas about love and freedom, and look where it landed him.”

So no matter how badly I want to kiss you, or tell you things, or anything... I can't do it until I set you free. Do you understand?

“You killed your family, and now you killed your boyfriend. What a shame! Maybe if you just kept your trap shut, it'd save everyone a world of trouble.”

Even so... I just... I have to hear it once the shackles come off, and you're... just you.

“Maybe this time, you'll learn your lesson.” Pete patted Minnie's head as if she was nothing but a disciplined pet. “Now, you feel like walking back in there and helping us out?” There, done and done, just as he knew it would work! Now the Phantom Prince would finally treat him with respect! Now the Sultan and Sultana would see that Pete was superior to all them, and he never needed any pity!

But Minnie didn't hear him. She could only hear Mickey's voice. She could only hear the last words he said to her.

Don't give up! I'll free you, I promise! I PROMISE!

Pete was right, in a sense. There was only so much a person could take before they utterly snapped. And Minnie was hearing those words over and over again in her brain, I promise, I promise, I promise, HE WAS DEAD, HE WAS DEAD AND IT WAS HER FAULT, SHE KILLED HIM, I PROMISE, I PROMISE, I PROMISE, SHE NEVER TOLD HIM HOW SHE FELT, DEAD, I PROMISE, DEAD, I PROMISE, DEAD LIKE AUNTIE DEAD LIKE GRANDFATHER DEAD LIKE EVERYONE IN THE KINGDOM I PROMISE -

Minnie drew a breath... and then screamed.

~*~

Mere seconds ago, the Phantom Prince was working on the portal, which was going to take longer than he cared for. He didn't want to admit to Pete that Mickey and Minnie were right, his power was waning. All the energy spent to find henchmen like Pete, the Glooms, Lotus Blossom, creating the heartless monsters, keeping the palace restored, it was all killing him. He had lasted centuries, but his time was running out. He needed to make his mark in history, to be remembered as the rightful ruler, that was all that mattered.

So long as Minnie didn't cry again, all would be well. He thought erasing her memories of him as her father would keep her in check, but who knew that killing two people would send her over the edge? The result of that destroyed his physical body, and only last minute magic kept him alive. She had destroyed the whole kingdom, keeping them a secret for the ages. But it was fine, now things could go back to the way they should have been all along. He was, in fact, so confident over this that he didn't have any plan prepared if such a thing would happen again. But of course it wouldn't! Back-up plans were for fools, and he was a genius. He just needed a little more time...

That's when he heard her screaming. That's when he felt the ground shake. That's when he knew Pete had done something incredibly foolish.

“NO!” Abandoning the unfinished orb, he held the lamp in his hands and ran for the doors, and he saw his worst nightmares realized. Minnie was clutching her head, eyes blank, body shaking – and she was about to cry. “STOP! STOP IT NOW! DON'T YOU DARE!”

Pete was oblivious to the Phantom's panic, and had yet to notice the small earth tremors. “What's the big deal? Let her get it out of her system, then she's as good as done.”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” The Phantom Prince grabbed a fistful of Pete's shirt, forcing him close. “Don't you remember the rules of the genie?! She must never cry!”

“Since when have you been so sentimental?” What a bizarre thing to get worked up over, especially from the father who abused his daughter.

“YOU BUFFOON, IT'S NOT ABOUT SENTIMENTALITY!” The Phantom shook Pete so hard he quickly saw stars. “A normal body can't support that much magic, I had to store it somewhere! I placed all her magic in her tears!”

Only now did it dawn on Pete that perhaps he had done something incorrectly. “Uh... huh. So, when she cries... what happens to all the magic that's in them...?” This wasn't going to end well for him at all, was it?

“It's pure uncontrollable magic! It's the most dangerous thing in the entire world! Nothing can stop it! And when it's unleashed-”

He didn't need to go into a description, as they both were about to get a very loud, explosive demonstration – the first tear had slid down on her cheek – and then -

It splattered out into a million hard, dangerous shards of ice, stabbing the walls and pinning Pete to the wall by his clothes. The ground then began to shake much more violently, and with each tear came a new terror – a volcano's eruption melting the floor, a horde of dragons ripping off the ceiling, a tidal wave smashing down the walls, a hurricane spiraling around the dead kingdom and picking up the pieces, it created monsters and hail and floods and beasts, and it didn't stop. Destruction took a hundred different forms to rip the palace apart, and spreading out into the abandoned land. The Imp's imaginings had been nothing compared to this apocalypse unleashed upon the land. Through it all, Minnie screamed, screamed, screamed for Mickey.

She couldn't see, couldn't hear, the world was dead to her, dead as Mickey, her Mickey, it was all worthless now, let everything burn, this pain would never end, and her heart would always be in agony.

The lamp grew hot, hotter than the driest desert in the Sahara, and the Phantom Prince had no choice but to drop it as he and Pete scrambled to find a place that was safe. But there was no safe place, and as Pete stupidly gazed up at the whirlwind of fire and blood, he saw that this time, maybe there would be no safe place ever again. At this rate, her power would rip through the surface of the earth and kill everything in its path.

Maybe he did deserve that pity after all.

Chapter Text

One minute earlier, Panchito asked, “You guys hear something?” though he hated to interrupt the group study session. Mickey's arm was still mighty sore, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from planning a way out and saving Minnie. Scheherazade was helping draw blueprints of the palace on the stone floor with Jose's umbrella, and Goofy was trying to pick out points where they could ambush their enemies. Daisy was trying to think of wishes the Phantom Prince could use, so Donald could come up with ways to counter them.

Mickey was about to reply that no, he hadn't heard anything, when he felt a hard pull on his scar. He winced, rubbing it with his fingers. Al noticed the gesture. “They must be using her wishes. Are you all right, son?”

“No, no, it's not like that.” Mickey wasn't sure what this was. It did hurt, but it wasn't the exhausting waves of agony he was used to. “I dunno, it's like... my heart hurts.” After a bit, he then glanced up. “Wait, now I do hear something.” At first, he thought it sounded like a low-pitched hum. One by one, the rest of the prisoners began to hear it, and lifted their heads, curious. Horace grabbed the magic carpet and wore it over his head like a makeshift shield, because he found that in his long troublesome life, low-pitched hums never led to anything remotely pleasant.

The hum became greater and louder, and then the entire cell began to rattle and shake, the force becoming so great that the bars of their cells began to pop off. This would have been a cause for celebration, except they would soon find they didn't need to exit that way – in the next second, the entire ceiling was ripped off by an almighty hurricane of colors, throwing the debris into the distance. Now they could all hear the thunderous destruction that had demolished the palace, and was now slamming into the earthy walls above and below, determined to reach the surface and rain death there as well.

“I'm gunna go out on a limb here,” Clarabelle offered as she joined the slack-jawed staring of her crew, “that the Phantom Prince didn't wish for this.”

“Everybody out!” Mickey commanded, not wanting to waste the opportunity, as bizarre as it was. They climbed on each other's shoulders to reach ground level, where they saw annihilation taking on a hundred different forms. Waves of boiling hot ocean water crashed into the decaying buildings, fire-breathing dragons clawed at one another for dominance over nothing, plants that had scales like snakes slithered in the dirt and spat out acidic venom – everywhere they turned, a new obstacle was breathed into life, each as terrifying and nonsensical as the last. In the very middle of the chaos was a swirling tornado, this one glowing a shocking pink, and as Mickey looked at it, what was actually in the middle of the winds became clearer.

When Minnie had been transferred to Mickey, and then to the Phantom, a light had taken on a female form with a commanding voice – but now that form was screaming without a voice at all, and faintly Mickey wondered if that had been what Minnie looked like once upon a time. “What did they do to her?!” he shouted, hand clutched to his chest in horror.

“Her?” Goofy repeated, before making the obvious connection. “You're sayin' Minnie's doin' all this? But how? Why?”

“Questions later,” Donald quacked as a leviathan made out of stone lurched over them, not even seeing the ants he was about to squish, “survival now!”

With everyone in universal agreement on that, they raced forward, trying to head towards the pink tornado, struggling to dodge every deadly hurdle that came their way. If Mickey could just get his hands on the lamp – but how was he to find it in all this insanity? Where were Pete and the Phantom Prince? The palace itself was gone, the only surviving remnants a few golden pillars that were being held together by a spider as big as a shark. A nearby building met its final moments, crumbling into dust, but within that dust Mickey spotted a familiar glitter. “The lamp!”

He picked up speed, jumping over a few miniature volcanoes, but he wasn't the only one on the hunt. A heartless beast, this one the shape of a 2-ton-macaw, slammed into Mickey's chest, sending him flying backwards. Al caught his son, and as he set him back down, spotted and shouted, “The Phantom Prince!” The title rang in Mickey's ears like brass bells to his brain, and seeing his greatest enemy engulfed his heart in fire.

The villain was staggering near the lamp, clutching the remains of his chest – in the continuous blasts of carnage, he, Pete, and the lamp had gotten separated. “I've come this far,” he snarled, taking labored breaths with every step, “And I won't let anyone stop me now! That fool of a servant set me back... I'm so close to having the kingdom I deserved!” He reached for the lamp, but it was now so scorching hot that it fell through his dissolving hands, and he screamed in pain as he thought he could no longer feel. “No! NO! I need more time! I JUST NEED MORE TIME!”

“What did you to Minnie?!” Mickey demanded, his heart beating hard in anger. The Phantom Prince had already enslaved Minnie to a life of despair, yet somehow he found a way to make it even worse. “All you've ever done is take from her! All you've ever done is hurt her!” Rage seeped through his veins, clenching his muscles, and with every passing second, his now infamous temper became darker. “You don't deserve anything but to be forgotten, you pathetic shade of a prince! I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU HURT HER EVER AGAIN!” Even if he didn't have a sword, he'd find a way to make this wretched man pay for all his sins, for all he did to Mickey's parents, for all he did to his own family, for all the ruination he had brought upon the world. Mickey didn't want the Phantom to just die, but to suffer through it, to make him regret ever being born!

The Phantom Prince held out his arm, trying to force enough power back to restore his missing limbs. “Impudent fool... I still have enough magic to take you all out! And my wishes are still in-tact, none of you can harm me!” With a clear struggle, black ooze dribbled from his wrist, summoning more heartless beasts to fight the crew, even as doing so whittled away more of his life force. “My glory will be remembered forever!”

Without a moment to spare, the crew was swept into battle, ready to bash and smash their way through the monsters as they had now done many times before. But Mickey wasn't focused on them – his eyes stayed on the Prince. Mickey was about to take a step forward and give in to his blood-rage, but Donald's hand grabbed his shoulder firmly. “You need to go to Minnie,” he said as seriousness as he had ever been in his damaged life. “Leave him to us. We might not know what's going on... but I know that you are the only one that can help her.”

Mickey almost balked – this was his chance to take on his greatest enemy, the man who had started and ruined everything, the one he had been plotting revenge against since he first learned of the man's existence. He was owed vengeance. He was owed blood! The climactic battle between the hero and the villain of this epic tale! But when he looked back, and could see the bright shadow of Minnie wailing in a grief no one could fathom... he struggled, the need for vengeance and the need to save his lady love at war in his soul. It physically hurt to choose between them, multiple voices screaming in his head for the “right” choice. His eyes flew back and forth between the danger in front of him, and the suffering far away. The voices became quieter the more he stared at the distance, and the need for payback began to sound so... pointless in comparison.

This wasn't one of his mother's stories with a set structure of right and wrong. Minnie was in pain, and she needed help. It didn't matter who stopped the Phantom Prince, so long as he was stopped.

His head began to clear, and he clutched Donald's hand, squeezing it in gratitude. “I trust you.”

Donald allowed himself a brief smile. “Get ready.” He then pulled back, the beasts already starting to rampage forward, and everyone held out their respective weapons, Donald crossing his arms and willing electricity through his fingers. He couldn't use his powers against the Phantom Prince, per his wicked wishes, but there was more than one use for his abilities. It had taken the hand of his first friend to learn this, and here and now, he was going to repay the boy who had saved him. “GO!”

With that, he summoned the loudest thunder and the brightest lightning his body could produce, converging it in one spot, temporarily blinding and deafening the surprised Phantom, letting it crack from him to the sky, breaking a hole in the earthly crust above. It was the perfect distraction, allowing Mickey to run from the fight. It was up to him to save Minnie, him and him alone, him and Goofy - “Captain?!”

Goofy was keeping up the pace right alongside Mickey, as were his parents, pup, and carpet. “True love is sweet and all that,” he admitted, “But it never hurts to have a few helping hands!”

“If you think we're going to let you out of our sight ever again,” Al agreed, “you've got another thing coming! We're a family again, we're doing this together!”

“But...” Mickey chanced a glance behind him, worried for his friends and the battle he had left behind, with bits and pieces of him still urging him to return and finish what had been started, “hero mode” still alive and well.

“If you have faith in them,” Scheherazade insisted, pushing Mickey forward, “Then have faith in all of us. None of us would have gotten this far because of one person. Believe in them, and believe in what we must do!”

Heroes in Scheherazade's stories always seemed to know what to do right away, without wavering or second-guessing. Faith wasn't something he could hold in his hand and grasp, it was something he just had to feel. He swallowed hard, steeling his nerve, and willed his legs to run faster, his eyes not to go back. “Then, please – help me set things right! Let's end Minnie's nightmare together!”

Donald planted his feet on the ground, continuing to let lightning crackle all around him, forcing it to stay as the beasts came at him, the monsters frying and dying as they ran into the gigantic bolts.

Horace, Clarabelle, Panchito, Jose and Daisy jumped into the fray, each one ready and willing to end this themselves with everything they had, come hell or high water – both of which Minnie was incidentally providing. Donald stayed where he was, resolute in his will to make sure not a single creature would go after Mickey. He would be the last stand, the final barrier, for once grateful for the cursed power that ran in his blood.

“You want to be remembered, your highness? Then get ready for a fight you won't ever forget!”

~*~
Minnie was time-traveling in her memories, back and forth, then and now, to when her horror and grief first destroyed the land all around her.

What have I done?

Had she changed? Had any of it mattered? She was a weapon. A tool made to hurt others.

I never meant for any of this.

Back then, she thought she could fix things, she thought she could make sure she wouldn't harm another person. Was she wrong? Had it all been for naught?

There must be a way... there must be some way to prevent this from happening again.

I don't know if it'll work. But I have to try.

If anyone finds these, if anyone can find me, please... end his reign, and end this nightmare.

In order to make things right, she sacrificed the last thoughts she had of her home, of her life, of anyone who could've loved her even if it wasn't real. The kingdom was dead, but its prince lived, and one day he would rise again, one day she'd be used to harm others again. If she could lead people back to this place – if she could give them a way to find the kingdom – if she could find a way to be free of her curse – her powers had heard her plea, and a spell was made, a map was born.

This is all I can do, and I pray it will be enough. With the last of my memories, I give you form, I give you to the wind, so that someday this chapter will be closed. Find the pieces, find me, and give us peace.

Please... someone, anyone out there... help me...

~*~

The closer Mickey, his blood family and makeshift family got to Minnie, the harder it became to travel. It was if she was pushing away anyone who dared to get close, and the group was forced to reroute and try again several times, due to giant hungry locusts, hail made out of fireballs, earthquakes and snowstorms and many a mythological creature now warped to their most awful form. Al and Scheherazade continued to try and find a new, safer path for them attempt, and at last it seemed they had found one, when a bat that was the size of a house screeched so loudly they dropped to their knees, clutching their ears. Goofy managed to wiggle out his pistol to try and shoot it down, and for the moment they decided the carpet was the best way to get around, if only to avoid this newest onslaught. Everyone climbed on board, but mere moments after taking to the air, a harsh sandstorm flew into their faces, and Mickey winced, opening his eyes to try and see where they could go.

That's when he saw Pete.

Pete had gotten a big brunt of the disaster, his clothes both seared and sopping wet, burns across his belly and his fingers aching from frostbite. It had been a real fight to free himself from the earlier ice picks, and he wound up using a chunk of what was a palace wall as a place to hide. He was scared out of his mind, not knowing what to do, afraid to even take a step out from behind the jagged wall, lest something out of his worst nightmares come finish him. Mickey's sword laid at his feet, abandoned and forgotten, the once proud trophy still stained with Mickey's blood.

But as terrified as Pete was, pride was still a dangerous and deadly thing in his damaged soul. He saw the family he once served, the family he betrayed, and the need to prove himself returned stronger and fiercer than before. It was all he had left anymore, even if it was useless. Knowing that he'd thrown away his life and his power for nothing – he couldn't live with it. He stumbled out from the wall, sore and miserable – if he could defeat them, maybe he could still rule Rao, still have a meaning to his life. “I... I got you now!” He exhaled, not even sure what he was saying, but barking spittle at them, hardly a threat. “That throne is mine! Mine, you hear me?” He grabbed a large chunk of debris in his hands, and chucked it at the carpet – it missed. Pathetically so. But it was enough to hold Mickey's attention, and so Pete did it again, yelling, “I make one girl cry, and everything goes to rot?! That's not fair! I deserve to be king!”

Mickey only heard one thing, one very important thing, and without thinking further, jumped off the carpet - ignoring the frantic yells of his comrades, not caring how hard hit the ground, because pain was nothing compared to rage.

All the fury that Mickey had managed to swallow for Minnie's sake now came back in a deafening roar. The Phantom Prince was the master behind the scheme, but Pete had proven to be a very willing puppet, and he remembered what the Phantom had said – that Pete had “set him back”. I made one girl cry and everything goes to rot? He did this? HE DID THIS? THIS WAS HIS FAULT?! The entire world was lost to Mickey, as he sprinted ahead, not hearing the calls from his parents who struggled to steer the carpet back to land or the frantic yipping of his dog. All Mickey heard was his fault his fault his fault HIS FAULT HIS FAULT HIS FAULT -

Pete didn't see the little guy coming, so he wasn't prepared when Mickey launched his full body-weight into Pete's stomach, knocking him over, sword in hand. “YOU DID THIS!” Mickey yelled, grabbing a fistful of Pete's robes and slamming his head to the ground, over and over. “TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO MINNIE!”

Pete's head swam – when had the tiny troublemaker become so powerful? Nothing made sense anymore, and when his vision was cleared, he didn't recognize Mickey right away. He'd never seen the typically peaceful prince with such hatred in his eyes, teeth clenched together and a murderous tremble in his body. A new terror filled Pete, and he couldn't feel his arms, couldn't think to simply sit up and push Mickey off. “H-Hey, I didn't mean... I didn't think... she just went nuts! I was just trying to get her to do what we wanted-”

“WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?” With each word, Mickey pushed his sword closer to Pete's throat, threatening to slice the entire thing open, and right now Pete absolutely believed Mickey would.

“I t-t-told her I killed you!” Pete stammered, eyes on the blade, trying to assure himself that Mickey might not do it, might not hurt him, he'd always been a weakling, always relied on other people, but maybe they said the same things about Sultan Al before he had his first bride. “I thought – maybe, if she thought you were dead, she'd just shut up and do what we said! But the Phantom Prince said her tears are full of crazy magic! If I'd have known she was going to explode, I would've kept my trap shut, I swear it!”

“You... swear?” Mickey repeated the word slowly, not moving the sword. “You can look me in the eyes... and swear?” His fingers dug into Pete's chest, as if he could dig in and claw out the man's heart. “You lied to everyone! You tricked my parents and took them away from me! You put everyone's lives in danger just because you wanted to feel good about yourself! And now you told her I WAS DEAD?!”

Pete didn't think he could talk his way out of this, so he didn't say another word. He could try to beg, he could try to plead, but those fiery eyes of venom weren't in the mood to listen. He had his regrets, and it'd be pointless to say them now.

“THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” Mickey raised the sword, ready to claim what was rightfully his to take. “YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!” Someone had to pay, someone had to suffer, someone had to burn, and Pete didn't deserve any mercy. He took advantage of his parents' kindness and traded them over for a worthless title. If it wasn't for him, none of this would have happened. Mickey would have happily celebrated his birthday with his mother and father, and everyone would have been safe. He raised the sword higher, and higher, and then -

and then -

He stopped.

He saw his reflection in the blade. He saw the golden scar on his neck, given to him by someone who also lost themselves to anger and revenge.

For the first time in his life, Mickey actually saw himself, and not the Son of Scheherazade. The anger was still there, the anger would always be there, but it didn't have all encompassing control anymore. He wouldn't let it destroy his life, as it nearly destroyed his father's, and as it had ruined the grieving servant. It hurt to deny it, hurt to suppress the need to strike down those who had wronged him, but he wasn't alone anymore. His life meant more than despair and lashing out at those who caused it. The storm that rampaged all around them was proof of this, and proof that he could be someone better – because someone needed him.

Mickey's grip on the blade weakened, and then he let it fall to the ground with a quiet clatter. Pete had shut his eyes, waiting for a demise that didn't come. He waited a few seconds more before opening one eye, and saw that Mickey had climbed off his stomach, and was staring at the raging rainbow in the sky. Pete stared, unable to understand why, to his view, Mickey had gone from bloodthirsty to calm in a minute. Without thinking, he asked, “What about me?” and regretted it at once.

Mickey looked at him briefly, and then away. “You're not worth the time.” His focus lay elsewhere, and he thought of Minnie – of the rule saying she couldn't cry. How unfair it had been, and how unfair it was now, that the most basic emotion and need of all living things was denied to her for centuries. It was one of the earliest things babes knew how to do, and perhaps the best way to let out one's sadness and frustrations. She'd been forced to bottle everything up, lest she hurt those around her.

The carpet finally landed, now that the mind it was linked to had settled, and the crowd on top rushed out – only to see that Pete was alive, and nothing had darkened Mickey's future. After a moment, a warm touch laid on Mickey's shoulder - his father, proud of his son for staying his hand. “If only I could have been strong as you, when I was faced with that anger.” His soft voice lamented. Scheherazade nodded knowingly, and Mickey turned away, not wanting to get lost in the past, as humble as the words made him. Goofy said nothing – he felt he didn't need to. Mickey didn't need praise or acknowledgment, as the captain had always felt that doing good was its own reward. But then again a little proud pet between Mickey's ears wouldn't do much harm.

“Every time we get closer, we get pushed back. How are we supposed to get to her?” Scheherazade lifted her head, knowing that they needed to return to the matter at hand. Pete sat in the dirt, feeling well-deserved humiliation.

The young prince tried to think, wishing that he had come up with an idea sooner – and in that instant, he realized he had, albeit unintentionally.

“I know I can get to her. If all of you help me form a path, I know just what to do!”

~*~

So long as the Phantom Prince could stand, he would continue to send out his creatures of darkness, as they were now his last line of defense. His wishes remained in place, and the crew staggered every time they tried to go against it. Panchito raised his pistol, attempting to fire at the Phantom, but his hands locked and seized up, pain shooting through his fingers – had Jose not tackled him down in time, a surly heartless bull would have flattened him. Horace and Clarabelle could easily knock down any monsters that came their way, but the moment they tried to launch themselves at the actual enemy, they fell flat on their faces, cursing all the while. Donald was still in his defensive position, not directly attacking but making sure his electrified field allowed for no escapees. Without her Eye, Daisy was the most defenseless of all, even if she had been taught a few tricks of the sword by her betters. In fact, it was she who pointed this out.

“We can't keep this up forever!” Daisy huffed, sweat pouring down her face, and she could see exhaustion on everyone's faces as well. “We can't just wait for Mickey to save the day!”

“If you've got a solution, I'd love to hear it!” Clarabelle growled, trying to get back on her feet, her legs feeling wobbly. “With those wishes, I can't kick that smug grin off his face! All of our special abilities are gone! What do we have left?”

“You have no choice but to die!” the Phantom Prince commanded, confident in his victory. “The tales of Sinbad and his merry crew end today! I learned all about you pathetic pirates... you all have your strengths, but without them, you're nothing but a ship of fools!"

“Aw, shaddap!” Donald quacked at him, but it was all the insult he could muster. Even the mere idea of throwing a lightning strike in the Phantom's direction caused him incredible pain, so there was nothing else he could do. But Mickey was counting on them! “You heard those stories, but you didn't listen to a thing! We're way more than a chapter title and a turn of the page! It's not our powers that make us great... it's how we use them! You only used your magic to hurt people! Daisy found the pieces of the map we needed, Clarabelle and Horace used their brains to defeat the Imp, and it's thanks to Jose and Panchito we managed to stay alive in the Cave of Wants! And what can you do?”

The Phantom Prince's assured grin began to dissolve into a grimace of contempt. “You dare call me weak, after seeing all that I have created?”

Daisy winced. “Honey, please don't taunt the dangerous villain.”

“Taunting what?” Donald retorted, never taking his eyes off the Phantom. “You don't do anything at all! You make everyone else do your dirty work for you! Pete, the Glooms, Minnie, and these ugly monsters! You're just a coward! That's why no one remembers you, because wimps aren't worth remembering!” He was very aware that he was throwing stones at a hornet's nest, but if they were going to do down, he was going to go down defiantly!

“HOW DARE YOU?!” the Phantom Prince roared, his entire shadowy body shaking with rage. He abandoned the lamp behind him, and began to enter the battle itself, black smoke fuming from his wrists. “If it is your wish to die so horribly... THEN YOU DON'T NEED A GENIE TO GRANT IT!” Horace and Clarabelle made another failed attempt to touch him, Daisy yelled Donald's name, and Donald still refused to budge, even as the Phantom lurched forward, arm out, ready to blast unspeakable dark magic at Donald's face -

“Donald!” Jose scrambled to grab his umbrella, even knowing it wouldn't work, but when he had fallen with Panchito, all of their weapons had scattered on the ground – and he unknowingly snatched up Panchito's pistol and didn't realize what was in his hand until he pulled the trigger. The bullet screamed into the air, blasting a small hole into the Phantom's left shoulder.

The Phantom staggered – not out of any deep physical pain, but more out of shock that he had been struck. No blood or bone showed out of the wound, but it didn't close back up either. Even the heartless monsters stood in place, their mind linked with their creator. Jose blinked at the smoking pistol in his hand, confused. “Not that I'm ungrateful for this assistance, but friend Panchito, was it not wished for your pistols not to fire?”

Donald looked through the empty hole in his enemy – and then grinned. “No... what he said was, Panchito can't aim at the Phantom. He never said Jose can't do it!”

A moment of wonderful clarity hit every member of the crew, but the clarity wasn't so wonderful for the Phantom. He took a step backwards, and then forward again, trying to reclaim his dignity. “It doesn't matter! You can't possibly defeat me, I won't allow it! Using another's strength doesn't make you strong!”

“Funny, from a guy with endless henchmen,” Horace said with a newfound self-assurance, standing tall. “My kicks might not be as strong as my wife's, but they should be good enough! And in this world, good enough does plenty! Now back away from the bird!” Without another word of warning, Horace took to the ground and swept the Phantom's legs out from under him with his own, which snapped the heartless monsters back to attention. The battle was back on - but it wasn't the same.

Panchito kicked up Jose's umbrella into his hands, and while he was inexperienced with the disguised flamethrower, he decided precise aim wasn't necessary. As the Phantom tried to get up, he was doused in intense flames, throwing off his concentration and not allowing him to give his commands to his monsters. Donald raised his hands, having enough strength for a few more bolts. “He wished I can't use my powers against him... but he didn't say I couldn't get rid of his nasty friends!” He clenched his hands, mentally commanding his lightning to take down each and every single heartless monster, striking them right in their ordained weak spot.

The Phantom's body began to dissolve further – he wasn't being given enough time to heal his wounds, and panic broke out on his face. They assumed it was panic, anyway – now even the details of his face were flickering in and out. “NO! No, I need more time! I'M SO CLOSE TO MY RULE! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!”

“Can and will!” Clarabelle countered, having studied her husband close enough to pull off a powerful sucker punch, sending the Phantom reeling and losing more of his body. “You think without our special skills we're not special? No wonder your daddy didn't want you to rule!”

With the Phantom down on the ground, Daisy flicked her pipe out of her hair, giving him a hard stab to his chest, doubting he had a heart but aiming toward one anyway. “You thought without my Eye I couldn't do anything? Your plan was doomed from the start!”

Every time the Phantom tried to get up, tried to cast a spell, tried to scream at their impudence, he was struck down by a foot, a fist, a pistol, flames and pipes, triumph and clamor. With each new attack, another part of him was lost, fading to ashes, fading to nothing, the sands of his time having finally run out. Horace eliminated his legs, Clarabelle his arms, Jose and Panchito took care of the chest, and Daisy tossed Panchito's second pistol into Donald's open hands.

“I WILL BE REMEMBERED!” the Phantom Prince howled, even as he was little more than a head and smoke, the last remnants of his sanity refusing to go down with any shreds of dignity. “I DESERVE TO BE REMEMBERED!”

Donald held the pistol down to the Phantom's forehead. “Phantom Prince... forget you!”

The bullet passed through smoke and ashes, and the Phantom Prince's consciousness was at last erased, leaving nothing behind, save for the golden cuffs bestowed upon him by the genie. Donald realized, oddly enough, that he didn't even know the name of the man whose life just ended. The only one who could've remembered was Minnie, but the man had erased his own daughter's memories to suit his own needs. The battle itself was amazing, yet in all due time, it would be forgotten too. After all, Goofy's crew would go on to many more adventures. This would be a footnote, if that.

As much as they all wanted to revel and cheer in their victory, the thunder far above them reminded everyone that the real danger had yet to be stopped. So long as Minnie kept crying, this would never end – as made evident by the sunlight now bursting through the earth, with every manner of vile creature starting to climb up into the open world. If she wasn't stopped, the whole planet would be subject to terrors of their worst imagining.

Daisy was the first to dare approach the lamp, but she first poked it with her pipe – which melted in seconds, and she yelped, frantically sidestepping. “Okaaay, so, this isn't exactly going to be easy. How do we get this back to Mickey without losing our fingers?”

Donald scratched his head – he was exhausted, having used up so much energy in the fight, but he still had enough to rub some brain cells together. His eyes fell upon the golden cuffs, and he raised an eyebrow, wondering why they were still there when the physical body was gone. Was it the Phantom Prince's design? Or...

“Well, I've never been known for my fashion sense before, why start now?”

~*~

“Everyone ready?”

To be fair, there wasn't much they could do to prepare themselves. It was this one chance or nothing at all. But Goofy smiled peacefully, fully assured that this would be fine. “Always, Mickey! We'll get the path as clear as possible for you, then you go head-on!”

Scheherazade turned Mickey around by the shoulders, worry clear. “Are you sure about this, my son? This is incredibly dangerous! She won't know you're there, she can still hurt you!”

Mickey squeezed his mother's hand. “I know it's risky... but I have to try. It's all we've got, and I made her a promise.” He offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Besides, you know stories better than anyone. Any goodbyes here, and that's as good as seeing me dead.”

Al laughed, slapping a hard hand on Mickey's back. “My brilliant son, blessed with both heart and wit! I daresay the only thing he didn't get from me is my magnificent beard! But perhaps in due time...”

Goofy lightly cleared his throat to remind them that time was of the essence. Mickey chuckled sheepishly, before shaking his head and holding his hand out. “Carpet, to me!” Upon his command, the carpet flew to Mickey, but instead of taking a ride on it, he used both hands to cover himself with it as the world's softest shield. Before everything had come to ruin, Mickey had wished that the carpet wouldn't tear. As far as he knew, the wish still held. His family surrounded him, and Mickey spotted Pete staying in the same spot, dumbstruck still by all that had transpired. Even looking as ridiculous as this, Mickey still had more of a royal air about him than Pete ever would. Pete had thought domination and cruelty was the way to prove your superiority – but here, Mickey would prove belief and compassion would do a far better job.

The earth shook again, and with it came a new wave of troubles. Eagles with wings as long as a ship's sails with feathers sharper than knives began to descend upon them, followed by ice-cold winds and rats with scorpion tails, a dozen or so skittering towards them. “Let's go!” Mickey shouted, and the family ran forward, refusing to fall, refusing to fail.

An eagle swooped down, its talons ready to take, and Goofy met it with his blade, allowing Mickey to sprint ahead, bracing himself as the stinging winds blew at the carpet – but it wouldn't tear, not even a single strand. Pluto snarled at the oncoming vermin, grabbing one with his mouth and tossing it over his shoulder as Lady Scheherazade tore it in two with Mickey's sword. A second eagle tried to bite at Mickey's larger ears, when Al jumped upon its neck and held it tightly with his hands, trying to twist it away. Mickey thought he heard his father yell something encouraging, but couldn't be sure, and forced his feet ahead, even as he feared for his loved ones. But faith meant moving without looking, and he was so close! With each member of his odd family clearing the path for him, he couldn't let their efforts go to waste. As he strained past them one by one, he remembered his mother's words of belief, and didn't look back. He was on his own now.

It felt like endless time passed as he forced himself through wind, through heat and cold, through mud and water, through pain and fatigue. At times he felt it was like pressing against a wall, using his entire body to push ahead, and occasionally his ears would be nicked by a fanged toad, his foot tripping over a jagged rock, yet nothing would truly stop him. Not until he got to her, not until he kept his promise. The harder it became to walk, the closer he knew he was, stepping through the ruins of the palace, of what could have once been a loving home, through her past and into her future – and then he found her.

Minnie's eyes were open, but she wasn't seeing anything, her pupils blank as hot tears rolled endlessly down her face. Her body kept rapidly changing colors, matching the beautiful but devastating landscape around her, and every couple of seconds her body seemed to shift strangely, her fingers normal one second and then claw-like in the next, her petite mouth showing fangs but then perfectly still in that open scream – it was as if the magic in her body couldn't decide what to do with itself. She was breaking down, and no matter how loudly Mickey yelled, she couldn't hear him, and no matter how close he got, she couldn't see him. She was lost in her sadness, and there was no end in sight.

All right, now what? Mickey wasn't sure what to do, and a part of him had been hoping that just being near enough towards her would snap her out of this. Clearly that wouldn't be enough. If she couldn't hear him or see him, what would wake her out of her nightmare? He grunted, feeling another wave of pain through his body as her magic affected him as well. If this was one of his mother's famous tales, what would the conclusion be? What did brave heroes do when their damsels were in distress? What did noble princes do when their one true love was trapped under a spell?

… Oh.

It wasn't exactly the way he wanted to do for his first time, but this was hardly a time for beggars to be choosers. He was a little glad his parents weren't there to catch him doing it. Mickey straightened his back, and then advanced forward again. If he planned it right, he could do it in five seconds.

One, step forward.

Two, another step.

Three, throwing the carpet around Minnie.

Four, dragging her towards him.

Five... with both hands firmly on the carpet's fringes, he pulled Minnie in as tightly as he could, while his body still ached, closed his eyes tightly, and with a nervous breath, pressed his lips onto hers. If this didn't work, he was out of ideas, but at least he'd die with one of his own personal wishes fulfilled.

Mickey remembered the day he first saw her, the dazzling beauty on the stage, her smile sweet but her eyes full of defeat, of surrender, of a dying hope. Looking back, it was clear her beauty had won him over first, but there had always been a need to understand those sad eyes, to see warmth flicker in them again. Now it was clear that all this time she'd been waiting for him, and while he hadn't known it, he was waiting for her too. They couldn't begin to love themselves without finding that in one another, and only when they compared wounds could they begin to heal. Here she needed him most, and here he would stay, until his dying breath if need be, until she was set free of her past and of the darkness that followed her. Could she at least feel anymore?

The answer was yes. Yes she could. The natural color returned to her eyes instantly, wide and startled, and her mouth opened in shock, not that it stopped the kiss any. Mickey had to be sure about this, after all, so he mentally counted down sixty seconds, which was probably fifty-five seconds longer than necessary. True love's kiss could always use some extra help. Her mouth had felt warm, like she'd been sunbathing for far too long, but her body was cooling down, the tremors stopping, and while the magic all around them couldn't be stopped, she could. Her body felt so small pressed against his own, a tiny person capable of great things.

Mickey finally pulled back, eyes open, wearing a lopsided smile. “Hello.”

Minnie – of normal colors and whose body was no longer shifting bizarrely – stared at him, stared at him in wonder and confusion and relief, before jumping straight into his arms to make sure this wasn't a dream. “MICKEY!” Her hands dug into him desperately, never wanting to let him go again, oblivious to what she had done just yet. “Oh, Mickey! Mickey, Mickey, Mickey! I – I thought – he said that he – Oh, Mickey!” She pressed her wet cheek to his, nuzzling him hard, wanting to hold all of him and see that every part of him was all right, saying his name over and over to reaffirm that he was here, he was alive, she was so happy she could cry -

She halted in horror, understanding what she unleashed. “No! Oh, no!” She rubbed her face raw, turning around as she witnessed the devastation she created. While she could no longer add to the chaos, she also couldn't stop what had already happened. “What have I done? I... I just... I thought you were dead, and I...”

Mickey pulled her back into the safe embrace of the carpet. “This is not your fault!” he said firmly, although he had mentally hoped that ceasing her tears would cure everything. “We'll find a way to stop this, we just need the lamp!”

“But I'm still under the Phantom Prince's control!” Minnie held out her wrists to show the proof, his ancient name on her cuffs – except his name wasn't there anymore. “Huh?” There was a different name there, and she was so stunned by what she saw that she couldn't say it, and pointed it out to Mickey.

It had Donald's name. Mickey balked, about to ask what was going on, when the earth rumbled again – he clutched Minnie to his chest, ready to protect her, but as it would turn out, he didn't need to. The whirlwind above him had stopped completely, and then started to turn backwards, going faster and faster, smaller and smaller, as it had first looked when it was created. Then it was gone completely, and soon all the other walking abominations were doing something similar – stopping, moving backwards, and then vanishing. The monsters, the weather, the earth, it all began to unwind and return to how things once were. The next change was just as surprising – the broken pieces of the palace began to rise up and stack on top of one another, returning the palace to its former glory. It all took place within a matter of minutes, and soon it was if the great self-made war had never happened, save for the large chunk of open sky above them all. On top of all that already happened, Mickey's body began to give, and Minnie was quick to help hold him up, her hands tight as she kept him standing

Mickey and Minnie stood in the palace hallway, now solid and whole once more, trying to wrap their heads around what just happened. Then came that familiar wave of pain and exhaustion through their bodies, as if –

Someone had just made a wish.

Mickey touched the scar on his neck, and Minnie raised her head to look at him. They didn't say anything, slowly comprehending – but they did laugh. It seemed as if it been years since they could laugh, and Mickey swung Minnie around in his arms, the two of them giggling and guffawing in the sweetest remedy. They were happy, happy to be together, happy that everything was mercifully over. Mickey dropped the carpet, and pressed his forehead to her own. “I'm going to keep my promise to you.”

“Thank you,” Minnie said, and bit down the urge to apologize for what she had done, and for believing that he had died. It was going to take time for her to accept certain things would be beyond her control, and this was a start. Oh, how she loved him.

Mickey took her hand and began to head for the palace doors, the carpet trailing behind him, and Mickey thought it might have been clapping with its tassels when he wasn't looking. Past the large golden doors, everyone was waiting for them, with triumphant faces all around, some even breaking in applause to see the prince and his fair maiden.

Pete stood off to the side, watching but also not looking, his role in life now lost and unsure.

Donald stepped out, holding the lamp in his hands – when Minnie's tears had subsided, it had become cool to the touch again. The golden cuffs were on his wrists, though putting them on had been costly, given the harsh burns on his skin - a sacrifice he would make a thousand times over, if given the choice. “I wished for the kingdom to return to the way it was an hour ago,” Donald explained a little proudly. “Now, if you would do the honors...?”

Mickey smiled at his friend, and gave him a hug before taking the lamp into his hands. “You know, you could've wished for your powers to go away.”

Donald hadn't actually thought of that, and he glanced up in thought before making a decision. “I don't think so. They're part of me, always have been, and there's nothing I should be ashamed about.” Although he did regret not wishing he was taller.

Mickey chuckled quietly, and then rubbed the lamp once, twice, three times. As expected, the golden cuffs dissolved on Donald's wrists to return to Mickey's, and Minnie took Donald's hands, kissing his wrists in gratitude for his pain. He ruffled the top of her head, embarrassed. Once more, the pink form of a woman began to coalesce in the air above them, ready to recite the rules, but this time Mickey cut her off, holding the lamp high above his head.

“I wish Minnie was free of the lamp, and was a normal mortal like the rest of us!”

The thing that could have been Minnie many moons ago stood still, and there was something akin to a smile gracing her ghostly features. She and the Minnie of flesh closed their eyes, and a bright glow emitted from the two of them. The lamp shuddered, then began to crack once, crack twice, before finally exploding apart, each piece flying off before dissolving into gold dust, and then oblivion. The large woman gently placed her gigantic hands around Minnie's entire body, her head tilted back, the light growing brighter and brighter before bursting into millions of pink butterflies that scattered into the wind, their beautiful scaly wings creating many rainbows of colors as they were touched by the sunlight above.

Minnie herself appeared to be wrapped in a light cocoon, and as the last of the butterflies flitted away, it burst, revealing herself in a pink glowing gown, jewels bestowed in a twinkling tiara on her forehead, the very essence of an elegant princess, just as she had been so long ago. The cuffs were gone, and her chest breathed in and out slowly, finally able to breathe and live as a being of flesh was supposed to. Mickey's own cuffs were now long gone, and the scar on his neck was once more hidden by his black fur. The last of the light faded, and Minnie opened her eyes, revealing they were once upon a time, to no one's surprise anymore, pink.

Goofy was the first one to speak. “Did it work?”

“Did it-” Horace repeated, incredulous. “What was that big ol' light show about, captain?! Of course it worked!”

“You can't be absolutely sure about these things,” Clarabelle countered. “Mickey, make a wish, just to be sure!”

Mickey faltered, surprised by the sudden command. “I, uh, well...”

“Wish for a million wishes!”
“Wish for a quicker way home!”
“Wish for a cheese sandwich!”
“Wish for the Nile!”

“I wish for the Nile!” Mickey chose quickly, mostly to make everyone stop that nonsense. He waited – and nothing happened. There was no pain in his body, no puff of smoke, no glow, nothing. “Hey, it worked! Minnie, it-”

Now that Minnie could make choices again, she chose to tackle Mickey down with the strongest kiss her little body could muster, and even if she hadn't put her entire weight into it, Mickey would have fallen over anyway in shock. She wasn't satisfied with just one, however, and she covered his face in delighted, ecstatic kisses, tears rolling down her face, tears she no longer had to fear. “I love you!” she cried out, ignoring the amused snickering from her friends, because for this small moment of time she was her real self at last. “I love you so, so, so much! I love you more than anything in the world! I want to be with you forever!” She was no longer bound by chains and guilt, no longer held back by anything at all. “I love you! I love you, Mickey!”

Mickey wondered if he was ever going to get a word in, not that he really minded. When he finally found some strength that Minnie's constant kisses hadn't knocked out of him, he sat up and held her, trying not to laugh in-between words. “I love you too, Minnie! Gosh, I've loved you since I first laid eyes on you! If you'll really have me... you can always be by my side.” Although he had always hoped this day would come, he also felt he didn't have the words to express everything about her in his heart.

Then again, they now had a lifetime for him to find a way. Mickey would do all that he could to see her happy – but also to let her be sad, angry, and all other emotions that had been denied to her by her captive life. One day he would be sultan, and he would need a wise sultana at his side to help him through good and bad, and to aid him with his temper, his self-loathing, and to ensure a reign that would mean peace for all.

… Speaking of, he was kind of forgetting why they were here in the first place, wasn't he? He swallowed, then rose to his feet, hand holding Minnie's, as he faced his parents. After an awkward of clearing his throat, he declared, “Ma, Pa - ” then, considering, corrected himself, “Mother, Father... this is Lady Minnie... I mean to take her with us back to the kingdom, and have her live with us as my intended.” He held his breath, his cheeks red. Minnie was also blushing, but also had the sense of mind to keep her head low and curtsied.

Al and Scheherazade shared an amused look, and Mickey tried to plead with his eyes for them not to do anything embarrassing. Scheherazade stepped forwards, hands pressed together. “Lady Minnie, if you do wish to come with us, your life will not always be a paradise of jewels and riches. You will be educated on all matters of royal life, especially if some day you may take the throne. My husband's legacy may earn you scorn, and my own past may create some difficult hurdles for you to overcome. Do you think you can handle such a life?”

Minnie lifted her head, meeting Scheherazade's eyes, and she could see where Mickey had gotten much of his nobility from. Mickey opened his mouth to defend her, but a squeeze from Minnie's hand stopped him. “I...” There was a moment of hesitation, but she drew her chest up, “I will do all that I can to earn my place in this world. I don't expect any of it to be easy, but I will keep trying. Mickey has shown me that giving up won't help anyone. Even if I don't succeed... I must make the effort. I will make the effort.” Then, with the confidence of the princess she once was, said boldly, “A true sultan cannot lead his people with misery in his heart, and I know only I can make him happy.”

Scheherazade watched Minnie carefully, before getting on one knee to be eye-level with her, taking her hand with both of hers. “In that case... I give you my blessings, Lady Minnie.” She affectionately kissed Minnie's brow. “May the life you live with us be a long and peaceful one.”

Minnie bowed her head again, unable to stop smiling. “You honor me, Sultana Scheherazade.”

Sultan Al then stepped forward, one arm on his back, his fingers stroking his thin beard. “Only one question remains... do you have any cute pet names for each other yet?”

Mickey's cool confidence broke. “PA! Don't you DARE!”

“Personally I've always been fond of 'key to my heart'...”

“PA! I'M BEGGING HERE!”

As Mickey hysterically implored his parents to stop offering stupid pet names – Minnie was rather fond of “sun on the brightest day” - Goofy turned on his heel, ready to walk back to the ship. “Well, another adventure wrapped up! And now that I kept my word to Lady Scheherazade, I can go back to my wife and hang up my sails for good.”

“Hey, what about us?” Horace asked. “Me and Clarabelle still haven't found our master!”

“Nor have Jose and I nearly made enough money for our dreams!” Panchito added.

“And I haven't found my family...” Donald glanced around, deciding that wasn't wholly accurate. “At least, my blood family.”

“I'm in no mood to retire from my fun and games just yet,” Daisy finished, jabbing a thumb to the rejoined family, who only just realized what was going on. “Who's going to help them back home? What happens to Sinbad and his crew without Sinbad?”

Goofy cupped his chin, giving this serious thought. “Well... if'fn you ask me, the ship should never belong to one person for too long. It just needs a new captain, is all. One who will lead you through all the next adventures.” He nodded once to himself, and then undid the bandanna around his head – before walking over to Donald, and quickly tying it around his head. “And I think Captain Donald works real nicely, huh?”

Donald's jaw dropped, his fingers slowly reaching up to touch the cloth around his head. “M-Me? Really?”

Goofy smiled, hands on his hips, pleased at the choice he made. “Really really, if you want the job! Shoot, I don't think anyone else could do it better. What say you all?”

Donald expected at least one person to raise an eyebrow or question this, but instead, Horace and Clarabelle saluted, shouting “Aye aye, Captain Donald!”

“Our brave caballero is now a brave captain!” Jose hugged Donald's left, while Panchito hugged the right, joining in with “I would follow you to the ends of the earth, amigo!”

Daisy tsked. “I would offer a victory kiss, but it looks like you're a little occupied.”

“What are we waiting for?” Mickey clapped his hands together once. “C'mon, Captain, you've got a crew to lead!”

Donald felt his cheeks redden, but then adjusted the bandanna on his head so he could see better. “Uh, hm! I guess... I guess my first order is... let's get out of this dump and back to the ship!” This was met with a round of “huzzah”s, and he felt as if he would never be miserable again. He began to lead the crew – his crew – to the ship, which was difficult given how Jose and Panchito still refused to let him go, even as Daisy was trying to tug them off with an annoyed “HANDS OFF MY MAN ALREADY!”

Mickey's family lagged behind, with Scheherazade going last, her eyes meeting Pete's. When everyone else was far enough ahead so that they wouldn't hear, she asked, “What will you do now?”

Pete found that he could no longer look at her directly anymore. “I... I did the worst things imaginable to that kid, and he... let me go. Why?”

“Life rarely goes as it's expected, Pete. A story can be planned and thought out... but real life doesn't always have resolutions. Just because you want something... doesn't mean it will make you happy. I ask you again – what will you do now?”

Pete suspected that if he asked her, she would let him come home with them. He'd be punished, no doubt, but she would still give him that chance. He wanted to ask. But he didn't. He didn't feel it was right, and for once that was something he cared about. “I think I'll... find my own way out.” Maybe he'd find a new life. Maybe he'd be a bad seed forever. He was scared. Pete hoped she wouldn't say anything else.

She did, and it hurt as badly as he knew it would. “Be well, Pete.” And she left him.

Mickey had started to notice his mother wasn't among them, but when he turned back, there she was, her eyes sad but a smile on her face. He smiled back at her, and decided there was no shame in being called her son. He loved his mother, and his father, and everyone here, and he was going to let the world know it. He could no longer hear the scream of the servant who slashed his throat, and he no longer felt a need to touch the scar on his neck that had finally begun to heal.

“How about, 'my dazzling heart'?” Al offered, ruining things again.

But this time, Mickey dove into his newfound confidence. “We are not doing that again! I'm gunna be called Mickey, by everyone, plain and simple!” He then whistled for his carpet, grabbing Minnie by the wrist and hopping on – Pluto yipped merrily, jumping on board – and he commanded it to head up to the sky, up where Minnie's powers had torn open the earth – it was technically not part of the underground kingdom, so it remained open. But in time the earth would crumble and it would be lost once more, fading into the past like a healed scar. He could hear his father's loud laughter and his friends teasing him for miles.

Up on the surface world once more, Pluto laid down in the laps of his master and mistress, and Mickey kissed Minnie. “I'm going to make all your wishes come true.”

She laid her head on his shoulder. “Mickey... I'm glad you were born.”

And, at last, at long last, so was Mickey.

~*~

Ah, this is where “happily ever after” comes, is that what you're thinking? That implies the story has an ending. However, I suggest that no story really ends, not so long as it's in your heart. The truth is, we all have an All-Seeing Eye, deep within ourselves. If you find it, you can find endless stories in other worlds, so long as you have the strength and courage to share them. Perhaps Mickey and Minnie ruled their kingdom for years with love and prosperity. Perhaps Pete redeemed himself in a far-off land with his own set of adventures. Perhaps Donald found his family, or found solace in the ones that took him in. You're imagining it now, aren't you? Every story lives on inside of you.

If this story gave you happiness, no matter how brief, then I am proud to have shared it.

My role ends here, but if you see me again, I would be honored. May my stories help you find your own, and may you find your own serenity in your existence, as my son did, once upon a time.