Prolouge
A/N: This is an idea I've had bouncing around for a little while. I've made some progress, but updates may be slow. The concept predates season 2, so things revealed in season two will likely have no bearing on the story.
Donald looked concernedly onto the shore. His boys had been gone for nearly an hour and a half now. It was just supposed to be a quick trip into the market. They had convinced him they would be safe, after all, there was three of them, and they had gone multiple times before with him.
But they had never gone alone.
He should have known better, what if someone recognized them… or rather had been suspicious of him for sometime... If someone suspected who they really were...
"Uncle Donald!"
Donald was torn away from his fretting by a familiar shout. His boys were racing through the harbor, milk and bread in hand, and an angry pair on their tails. The boys quickly dashed up into the boat and huddled behind him. One of the boys, probably Louie, pressed into his back. Dewey moved to under his arm, while Huey peered around his other arm.
"These your brats?"
Donald took a deep breath, realizing he was face to face with a large beagle, about twice his size.
"What do you want?"
"I asked if they were your brats?"
"These are my nephews." He answered carefully.
"Nephews? So you aren't their father?" The beagle gave a smug look.
"I'm their Uncle… these are my boys." Donald reiterated, "What do you want?"
"Brats don't even have a father… bastards, huh?"
Donald bristled, but held back. He couldn't afford to make any more of a scene.
"I don't see how this is relevant, if you don't have any business here I'm going to have to request you get off my boat."
"I'd like to see you try."
"That's it… off!"
"Make me."
He did.
The assailant was almost immediately sputtering in the water, grasping around desperately for the boat.
"Get the anchor," Donald ordered, while the surprise of what he had done was still settling in. He began untying the tether to the dock. The boys, still so small, yanked the anchor out slowly, working together as Donald adjusted the sails. As the man climbed out of the water the boat was already starting to move.
It was hard work managing the boat on his own, but the boys were only starting to learn the finer points of sailing, and weren't yet big enough to do more hard labor.
"Uncle Donald?" Huey asked timidly as Donald was tying the last of the knots. He supposed they might as well set out for their next destination now, it was almost time to be moving along anyway.
"What did you boys do?"
He was still upset, they should have known better then to bring trouble aboard the boat. As much as he wishes his anger could be born from embarrassment and simple worry that they won't come home with a black eye, it's more than that. More than they can ever know.
"We didn't do anything."
"He seemed mad about something"
"It was Dewey's fault."
"It was an accident!" Dewey insisted.
"Just tell me what happened."
"We were racing back, but Dewey ran into a lady, and she dropped some jewels and some eggs, and then she got mad, and yelled at that guy to go get us."
"Probably her son," Louie added.
Donald sighed, "Boys,"
"Sorry Uncle Donald," They murmured apologetically in harmony. Donald didn't reply, unable to find words to express how he felt. He wasn't even sure he knew how he felt.
"Are we leaving Cape Suzette now?" Dewey asked.
"Yes,"
"It's because of us, isn't it?" Louie
"We were going to be leaving soon anyway."
"Will we go back someday, I liked Cape Suzette," Dewey whined
"Probably someday,"
"Uncle Donald?" Huey asked
"Yes?"
"Why do we live with you? You're not our mother or father?" Huey asked.
Donald's breath caught in his throat. He knew one day they'd ask. He'd expected it sooner, almost as soon as they learned what the words meant, but yet it still caught him off guard.
"No, but I'm your Uncle. Why are you asking?"
"I don't know, I've been wondering for a while. What happened to our parents?"
"Your mom was my sister, my twin. She's… she's gone now… but she asked me to take care of you."
"Oh,"
"Should we get dinner started?" Donald asked, ruffling Huey's feathers.
"Sure," Huey replied, and the group began to walk below deck
"Uncle Donald?" A voice asked again, Louie this time.
"Yes?"
"Do you miss mom?"
"Every day,"
He was just glad they didn't choose to press on their father.
"Oh, and Uncle Donald, my jacket needs to be patched," Dewey said, lifting his arm to show him a cut.
Donald almost chuckled at the idea. A patched worn jacket, made of threadbare cloth that he needed to patch once again.
For a prince.