Work Text:
Goldie O’Gilt was charming, and beautiful, and smart, and observant, and it didn’t take long for her to realize that people saw her as the former two and forgot she was also the latter.
Well, that just made things a lot more challenging, and Goldie liked challenges.
She would quietly rebel in a small ways; taking cookies when she wasn’t supposed to, whispering bad words just as the edge of the adults’ hearing range, eating loudly and talking with her mouth full when she wanted to. Whenever the adults started to frown, she would imagine wrapping herself in a blanket and wearing it like a cloak, labelling it as well behaved in her mind and smiling innocently. And just like that, the adults’ frowns melted into fond smiles, and she was off the hook. She kept putting the blanket around herself throughout childhood, hiding her mischievous streak under well-placed smiles and well-timed crocodile tears.
Then she grew into a teenager, as charming and beautiful as ever, her cleverness armed with hidden claws and whispers of stories about magic and riches and her own desire to have them all. At the ripe young age of her teen years she had already mastered the art of dangling teasing smiles and taunting destiny, letting a curl of her fingers and a cascade of her golden hair lure people into spilling information for her and distracting them enough to let her wandering hands take maps and gems from their pockets. The blanket had been left behind in her childhood room with teddy bears and building blocks, swapped for a collection of dramatic, glittering opera masks.
She wandered into town needing a place to sleep in and donned a mask of a quietly crying young girl, glittering diamonds as tears, painted blue to visualize she was sad, sad, sad. She roared at a group of men who told her to go back to the kitchen when she decided to mine for gold, donning a mask of a fierce lion, its eyes gleaming rubies and its fangs sharpened marble. She smiled at men who smugly showed maps to buried treasure and magical items, donning a mask of a cunning vixen with glittering red fur dusted with diamond dust, appearing demure and quiet and beautiful as she silently outwitted them and ran with her prize, laughing to the wind all the while.
None of them saw through the collection of masks. When she put on a mask to shroud herself with the air of whatever she wanted to project – a young downtrodden girl, a fierce woman, a demure lady hiding her claws beneath – none of them could see Goldie underneath.
None of them, except Scrooge McDuck.
When Goldie put on the mask of a trustworthy, harmless young girl, Scrooge blinked and squinted at her, then acted as if nothing had happened. Nothing about his demeanor changed. Which was interesting to say the least; usually people would have been halfway through their life story by that point. So Goldie pulled out the old blanket and put it on like a cloak, willing the air of trustworthiness and harmlessness to waft around her powerfully, but Scrooge only frowned in displeasure and snapped at her to stop it.
“I already know what you’re doing,” Scrooge had said. “You want me to trust you so you can take my gold later. Well, you’re not getting anything from me!”
Goldie gasped in offense. “Me, stealing from you? Good sir, how dare you!” She willed herself to exude the trustworthiness and harmlessness in droves.
Scrooge only scoffed. “Your tricks don’t work on me, woman. Now let me get my gold.” And, as if Goldie hadn’t tried to make him trust her, he left.
Well, this was intriguing. No one had been able to do that before.
A series of freak circumstances somehow managed to put them in each other’s paths again and again. By the third time they met, Goldie had since realized that Scrooge was a lot different from other people. When their hands brushed, Goldie would sometimes be reminded of the cool, smooth feeling of gold underneath her hands and of a dime clutched like the most precious pearl in rough fingers. Judging by the looks Scrooge threw her from time to time, it wasn’t unsafe to assume he had also felt something from her.
“I told you that your tricks don’t work on me. Stop doing that,” Scrooge had said one time after Goldie tried again to appear trustworthy.
Goldie switched the mask for one with voluptuous lips and a teasing wink instead. Maybe she could just lure him into a false sense of security by distracting him with a sashay of hips and a curl of a finger instead. “Are you sure?”
Scrooge paused, looking at her blankly, then his gaze hardened. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Goldie gripped the masks, unwilling to let go of them. This never failed before. “But why?”
“For once, I would like to actually speak to Goldie O’Gilt instead of… whoever you’re trying to pretend to be,” Scrooge said, and left it at that. It was one of the few times someone managed to surprise Goldie into silence, and a part of her childishly clung to her collection of masks and cloaks and blankets in indignation.
And then they got stuck together in ice, because of course.
It was an odd time, when they were stuck. Goldie was too busy being angry at everything to deal with her masks, and there wasn’t much she could do with them in her situation anyway.
And yet, with the masks gone, Scrooge’s gaze softened, and so did hers. It was ironic, how the absence of her attempts to be more well-liked, more attractive, more trusted was what chipped Scrooge’s prickly armour and let him finally, finally, gave her a genuine smile.
It was almost a shame, when she managed to free herself and left. It was all Goldie then, no mask and no cloak, just her waving Scrooge goodbye and knowing he would chase sooner or later. She pretended not to be disappointed when it took Scrooge a long time to resume their little game, but she let the giddiness in her chest be known by a genuine smile she gave Scrooge, just for a second.
Goldie lived her life donning masks after masks, weaponizing her charm and beauty and striking when the moment was right, receiving distrustful glances and smiling innocently and taking the mask she named trustworthiness and innocence, and the distrust melted away and she could take whatever she wanted with little to no resistance.
Scrooge remained the only one who could see through her without fail, and it was a lot more fun than it had any right to be.
Years later, Goldie would meet Scrooge’s precious nephew and niece. Scrooge’s gold-and-coins had strengthened somehow, but more hidden, wrapped safe under his fancy coats and smelled of old maps to treasure. The twins, surprisingly, was so much more obvious.
Donald reminded Goldie of beaches, of dipping her feet into the waves and tasting salt in her tongue; Della reminded her of standing at the edge of a canyon and looking down, feeling updraft wind whipping her hair about. Della fell immediately for the parental mask Goldie chose just for them, but Donald was far more reluctant, and he pulled Della’s sleeve back when she bounded over to Goldie, staring at her with what seemed to be confusion in his eyes. It broke Della’s trust almost immediately and she huddled closer to him.
Goldie laughed it off and ignored the small sting of hurt at the way the twins looked at her. In hindsight, she should have known pulling them to trust her wouldn’t be as easy as pulling any other regular jane. They were Scrooge’s family, and if nothing else, Scrooge would have taught them to think twice before placing their trust in someone who may not have earned it.
Goldie heard the news of little Della (not so little anymore) going missing and sent Scrooge a letter asking if he was okay. She never got a response, but she never expected one.
The next time they met, he felt like tarnished gold.
When she met Scrooge again it was about a decade later, he was surrounded by a gaggle of children, and he had regained some of his lost shine. She took her attractive mask, but then she saw the telltale signs of his frown and dropped it. It was still odd, how Scrooge never liked her masks, but it wasn’t an unwelcome thing.
The triplets, however, were interesting.
They weren’t as blatant as the twins, but then again she also first met the twins when they were older – the age difference alone might have had something to do with it. But they had their own distinct feeling. The red one exuded warmth like a gentle campfire, the blue one buzzed like static electricity, and the green one was similar to Scrooge in how he hinted of something glittering and precious.
So when the green one (Louie, she learned) asked her to be a mentor for him, she agreed.
She met Donald when she got to the McDuck mansion, while she was casually strolling up the stairs and definitely wasn’t eyeing the plethora of artefacts she could probably swipe. She had to pause in her steps when she heard the familiar raspy voice called out to her, “Goldie?”
She turned and found Donald at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her in apparent confusion. “Oh, hello!” she greeted as he ascended the stairs and stopped a few steps below her. This much older, he felt far more contained but powerful. He didn’t feel like he was leaking saltwater everywhere like he did as a child, but instead of dipping her feet into the shore he felt like Goldie had just taken the plunge into the deep blue without any sort of safety precaution.
“What are you doing here?” Donald asked. “Not trying to steal anything, I hope.”
“Oh, nothing of sorts! The little green one invited me here,” Goldie explained. She smiled. “He’s a cute one. I admit I’m surprised he even considers me good enough to ask me to mentor him.”
Donald sighed, smiling fondly. “Of course he did.” He shrugged. “Well, have fun, I guess.”
Goldie lifted a brow. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one foot. “What, no shovel talk? I thought you’d be a lot more protective of your boy.”
“Louie’s smart. I trust his judgement,” Donald said. “Besides, I don’t think you’ll hurt him. You’re not a bad person, deep down.”
“Why, Mr. Duck, are you insinuating you know me so well? You have no evidence I wouldn’t do anything to him! I might steal him away, you know. He feels precious.”
“He feels precious?” Donald repeated.
Goldie shrugged. She doubted he would understand; most people didn’t. “Isn’t he? He reminds me of gold and gemstones, somehow.”
Donald stared. Then, his gaze sharpened as the feeling of rising waves reached and enveloped Goldie, prodding her. She stiffened in surprise, staring at Donald with alarm. Was it just the trick of the light, or was he softly glowing blue? Were his eyes changing color into sea blue with specks of white seafoam? Goldie felt like she was being wrapped in a wave that was ready to roll her over, and she didn’t like it.
Then, the sensation passed, receding like a tide. Donald rocked back on his heels, looking at Goldie through lidded eyes as he breathed out a huh. “You have something,” he muttered, more to himself than to Goldie.
Goldie frowned. After that, she couldn’t help but be wary, guarded, against this duck that was obviously so much more than she had ever thought he was. “What do you mean?”
“Opera masks and cloaks,” Donald continued, not even looking at Goldie. “It… fits. I thought it would be like falling curtains though, it feels like the atmosphere changes when you use it…”
“What do you mean?” Goldie repeated, stressing her words, and it seemed to finally pull Donald’s attention back to her.
“You don’t know?” he just asked back.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I know.”
“Oh. Well, you have magic.”
The casual way he dropped it was somehow more shocking than the words themselves. “What.”
“Yeah? I mean, I have it too? So do the triplets, and Della. Uncle Scrooge might have it too?” Donald tilted his head. “Yours don’t feel that powerful, but it’s very refined.”
“I, uh, thank you?” Goldie didn’t remember when she last felt this speechless. Nothing about this should make sense but it really did. She frowned. “So when I meet Scrooge and he reminds me of gold, is that…?”
“Oh, yeah,” Donald nodded. “I don’t think he’s aware of it. It’s hilarious, really, since he actually hates magic.” He snickered to the side.
Goldie stared. “So everyone in your family has it? …Magic? What even is your family? I don’t think I’ve ever felt something from other people. Not like your family’s, anyway.”
“I think we’re somewhat of an abnormality in that way,” Donald admitted. “I don’t think it’s normal, but our family isn’t exactly normal.” His gaze hardened as he stared into Goldie’s eyes. “But I want to talk to you about my boys. About Louie, particularly.”
“What about him?”
The ocean around him rose again, little by little until it loomed above Goldie. “You’re not the first one to realize he feels precious. If you do anything to him, you’re inviting the whole family to hunt you.”
“I thought you said no shovel talk,” Goldie said dryly.
“That’s before I realized you have magic.” Donald stared. “Last time, the one who got interested in him also has magic.”
“Who was it, if I may ask?”
Surprisingly, Donald gave the answer quickly enough. “Magica De Spell. But you won’t want to follow her footsteps.” He smiled, innocent at a passing glance but full of underwater mines. “She can’t use magic anymore, now.”
Goldie blinked. “You’re a lot more capable of shovel talk than I thought you would be.”
“Thank you. I had a lot of practice.” He turned and walked away. “Have fun with Louie. Bring him back before dinner.” He paused and smirked. “And feel free to join us for dinner. I’m sure Uncle Scrooge would love to have you around.”
“You know, you’re sending a very mixed message. You just gave me a shovel talk and now you’re asking me to stay for dinner?”
Donald laughed and walked away. Goldie couldn’t help but smile, but the conversation weighed heavily in her mind.
Doofus Drake was one creepy child. That should have been obvious from the start, but somehow the sheer absurdity of his mental state didn’t register until Goldie was literally put on display, which was several shades of disturbing altogether. Maybe she shouldn’t have put on her parent figure mask in the first place.
And then the unmistakable feel of sharp gold and glittering gems drew near, and Goldie found herself relaxing. Louie may be young, but he was surprisingly capable – perks of being Scrooge’s grand nephew, most likely. Goldie watched as he handled the situation – a little roughly perhaps, but he was young, he hadn’t had the time to refine what he could do. Goldie could give him pointers later.
It surprised her, when his magic brushed against hers. He really had come far since the first time Goldie met him. The vague feeling of cold and precious metals had solidified into something sharp and gleaming, reminiscent of the golden khopesh he brought along and emeralds. There was an edge of danger that wasn’t there before, and Goldie wondered what exactly had happened that he developed that edge.
He glowed faintly gold, speckled with green, with his eyes flat discs of gold when he pulled a bag of gold to himself before they escaped the house. The glow faded and the discs in his eyes vanished with a few blinks. It made Goldie wonder what she looked like when she swapped her masks.
“Should you use that so casually?” Goldie asked. “I don’t think most people are aware the McDucks have magic in their arsenal.”
“It’s fine, it’s not like the Drakes were paying attention – wait.” Louie looked up at her. “You can tell?”
“Yes.” Goldie smiled wryly. “You’ve been reminding me of riches since I first saw you in that Gala. Your uncle is very protective of you, by the way. There are some implied threats when we talked earlier.”
Louie pouted. Capable as he was, in the end he was still just a young boy. “I can take care of myself, though.”
“I’m sure you can,” Goldie said soothingly, automatically pulling on the parent figure mask back on. Louie glanced at her warily for a moment, but then he relaxed. It made her wonder if he knew and decided to trust her anyway. The thought warmed her heart.
Not enough to make her regret robbing him blind in the middle of the woods, but she never promised she’d never steal from him. Donald may have warned her about hurting or putting Louie in harm, but he never said anything about pulling a con.
Later on, when she was home and surrounded by her newly claimed fortune, Goldie would open her wallet and stare fondly at the new photo she and Louie took. The parent figure mask she donned may have been made to make it easier for them to join Doofus’ party, but in the end she really did ended up liking Louie. He was charming in his own right.
She wondered what would happen if she decided to take up Donald’s offer on joining them for dinner. They probably wouldn’t like it, after what she had pulled, but really, it was Louie’s own fault. He shouldn’t have trusted her in the first place; surely he already knew how many times Goldie had robbed Scrooge McDuck, the richest duck in the world and the most paranoid duck when it came to gold and treasure?