symbiotic: I'm glad you think so! I'm trying to make sure I did the characterization properly. I totally understand your concern, by the way. But the first few chapters will mostly focus on getting to know the main characters. Nevertheless, I've got some things planned out after all the introductions. Thank you for your feedback! :)
Honestly, this entire fanfic is just a random drabble and the themes—friendship and romance—suggest its lightheartedness. I've a few major things planned out, but they might be too overwhelming for such a big crossover, so we'll see how that goes.
. . . . . .
Some days Ariel was glad that she didn't live in a dorm, and most days she cursed herself for having to live with six sisters, one cousin, one overprotective uncle and an even more overprotective dad.
Today was one of those "most" days.
Ariel turned over, slammed herself facedown in the bed, and covered her head with a pillow in attempt to muffle out Aquata and Arista's argument. She loved sleeping in and the only day she could do that was on a Sunday because there was no school. Unfortunately, she shared a room with six sisters. Six sisters.
Right now, only she and two others occupied the room, and it was horrible enough.
"Christ, guys, knock it off," she heard the door creak as the eldest of the sisters, Attina, entered and scolded the two arguing girls. Attina was almost like their mother. Perhaps it was because she had the most vivid memory of her. Sometimes, Ariel hated how overprotective she was, but she genuinely admired and respected her.
"Arista took my laptop again! Without me knowing!"
"Well, last time I checked, we're sisters. There's no such thing as territory."
"That's bullshit! Where'd you even get that idea?" Aquata snapped. "I need it. I've got things to do, unlike you."
"It's not my fault you chose to go to college."
"Guys, enough!" Attina whisper-yelled. "Can't you see some of us need to rest? Aqua, control your temper. Arista, please stop taking things that aren't yours!"
"My temper is justified," Aquata said firmly. "I mean, look at her, Tina! She's even wearing my lucky seashell bra!"
"For the record, we're like, the same size."
"Fucking stop," Attina growled. Ariel suppressed a giggle. Attina was a responsible, sensible, and gentle lady. To hear her curse was like a sweet bell ringing in her ears.
Aquata and Arista's case, however, was different. To hear her curse can be a miracle, but to be the receiving end of the cursing is a different story.
"You know what, screw it, Arista. Take my laptop instead," Attina declared in exasperation. "Go watch 27 Dresses there or something. And you, Aqua, get out of the room and do anything else."
"What about my bra?"
"Forget it. Lock it away next time."
Ariel got up slowly. The three sisters looked at her for a moment, then Attina glared at Aquata and Arista.
"You've done it. Congratulations."
"Nah," Ariel said sarcastically. "Thanks for the courtesy, guys."
Aquata mumbled an apology, but Ariel told her it was nothing, even though she was slightly irritated. She'd rather not hear them fight, anyway.
Ariel's hands searched frantically at her nightstand for her phone while her other hand rubbed her sleepy eyes. When she saw that there was no phone in the nightstand, she eyed Arista suspiciously.
"Ris, where's my phone?"
Arista sheepishly smiled and walked over to give Ariel her phone, which somehow ended up across her bed—on Arista's bed. All of them looked at Arista with narrowed eyes.
"What? I needed to get a good quality photo of my latte—my phone's missing, remember?—and I was just going to ask Ariel to text them to me, or something. It was artsy."
. . . . . .
The place was exhilarating, to say the least. It was the kind of place Esmeralda would go to if she wanted to run away from her problems. They walked in a soil path, surrounded by grass and trees and flowering shrubs. Esmeralda felt the urge to lay in the grass and sleep.
"Why didn't you take me here sooner?" she asked Phoebus.
They strolled hand in hand around the farm, Esmeralda admiring the scenery and Phoebus leading her around. Phoebus spent a lot of his weekends here to visit his stallion. (That was no metaphor—he really owned a stallion.)
"I didn't think you'd be interested," he answered frankly.
"Why'd you think that?"
"You seem more of the… city person," he admitted. "I am, too, but there are days I just want to stay in here."
"Me too."
Esmeralda looked at the hand in hers and rubbed the back of it with her thumb. They fell into a comfortable silence.
Sometimes, she didn't understand what they were. They proclaimed they were no more than best friends—they've known each other for a long time—but Esmeralda felt she had been lying to herself, all this time.
Truth be told, Esmeralda didn't want to admit that she felt more than friendship towards Phoebus. They had been friends for around seven years already, although they weren't exactly in good terms when they first met.
Esmeralda had been far too young to witness the cruelty of the world. She was lucky enough to be going to a public high school, and she thought it would end there. Her 'part-time job' involved dancing in the subway. Her mother was always away, and she was left almost alone to fend off for herself.
One day, Esmeralda had seen a poor, disfigured young boy being made fun of by a group of high school thugs. Esmeralda had helped the young boy escape but the thugs had seen her and tried to chase her.
She was cunning. She and the young boy had narrowly escaped all the thugs—all except one.
Esmeralda led the boy inside an empty church. He ran from her then, not uttering a single word, and climbed up the stairs. She was about to chase him, but then she felt someone sneak up behind her.
Esmeralda knew it was one of those thugs.
She swiftly turned and stealthily snatched the dagger from the boy's hand. It had cut her slightly, but she didn't mind.
The 'thug' who had followed her was more slender than the others. He didn't look big and bad; in fact, he was handsome and well-built. He could almost pass for a decent, well-bred man. Almost.
"You," she growled, pointing it to his chin.
"Easy, easy," he said, backing away from the knife. "I—I just shaved this morning."
"Oh, really? You missed a spot."
"All right, all right," he said as he was cornered, sliding on the ground. The knife still followed his chin. "Just… give me a chance to apologize."
"For what?" she scoffed.
The guy—he looked a few years older than Esmeralda—was as stealthy and cunning as she is. He kicked her heel and she slipped, sending the knife dangerously flying over him, but he was able to catch it without a scathe.
"That, for example," he smirked.
"You sneaky son of a—"
"Ah, ah, ah. Watch it. We're in a church."
She didn't miss a beat and took hold of a long, metal candlestick. "Are you always this charming or am I just lucky?"
Phoebus was able to deflect the swings of the candlestick. "You fight almost as well as a man," he joked.
"Funny," she replied, still trying to swing it across his torso, "I was going to say the same thing about you."
"That's hitting a little below the belt, isn't it?"
"No," she shook her head. "This is."
Phoebus covered his groin as Esmeralda attempted to hit it, but she hit his temple instead. He shook his head slightly to fight the sudden dizziness that hit him. "Touché."
Esmeralda hit his stomach again, but he still didn't fall.
"You've got some real combat skills there."
"I don't take it kindly on high school thugs."
"I noticed. Uh… permit me." He gave her a smile. "I'm Phoebus. It means, 'sun god.'"
Esmeralda's eyes were still narrowed, but her lips were forming into a small, unamused smile.
"And you are…?"
"Is this some kind of an interrogation?"
"I believe it's called an introduction," he said.
"You're not taking me to your friends? Or killing me?"
"What?" Phoebus looked at her. "They aren't my friends, and no, of course not."
Esmeralda observed him. "Not your friends?"
"Not really," he admitted. "They think I am, but I don't like them a bit. They're too selfish and conceited for my liking."
"Huh," Esmeralda said, putting the candlestick down. "So if you're not going to hurt me, what do you want?"
"I'd settle for your name," he said, that charming smile returning to his face.
She couldn't believe she was giving in.
"Esmeralda," she replied slowly.
"Beautiful."
A small smile crossed her face.
"Much better than Phoebus, anyway," he joked, after a moment.
Nobody knew how Esmeralda and Phoebus became friends. If they found out, Meg would have laughed and poke them on the ribs, declaring that they were truly meant for each other. Now that Esmeralda thought about it, it was pretty funny. Who would've thought they'd be friends, after such a flirtatious—and violent—encounter?
A part of Esmeralda knew she wanted to consider Phoebus more than a friend, but that would be jeopardizing their long-time friendship. She would much rather not lose Phoebus as a person. It was all right, somehow, that she couldn't have him, as long as she still had his company.
But she hadn't admitted all of this. Not to her friends, not to Phoebus, not even fully to herself.
As for the disfigured young boy, Esmeralda did not know his name; nor had she seen him since. But of course she wished she had made friends with him. Perhaps one day…
"Here we are," Phoebus said as they reached a big barn. They were greeted by a foul smell upon entering.
"Sorry. I know it stinks."
"I've had worse, Phoebs." She looked around with a smirk. "So, is this where the extremely wealthy people spend their time?"
"First of all, not all wealthy people enjoy this kind of tranquility. Their idea of 'tranquil' is a trip to France or Italy. Take Jasmine, for example."
Esmeralda chuckled.
"And secondly, I'm not extremely wealthy."
"Sure you aren't."
"Really, Esme. My parents are wealthy. They're the ones who pay for my membership here. And my tuition."
"The only difference between you and other extremely wealthy people is the fact that you often fend for yourself. Had you been like the others, leeching to their parents even after 18, you would've had the world at your feet."
He put his arm around her as they walked slowly. "I don't need money to have people at my feet. I mean, look at my face. That alone would give them enough reason to grovel."
Esmeralda jokingly smacked his head.
Phoebus stopped in his tracks then, turning to his right, towards a pure white stallion.
"This is Achilles."
"Damn," Esmeralda said. She didn't care much for horses, but this one looked magnificent (and obscenely expensive). It was white with a gray mane and tail. She touched its head slowly and patted it.
"I've had him since I was 12," Phoebus explained, opening the small door to let his horse out and leading it outside. Esmeralda followed beside him.
"Check this out," Phoebus said once they were at an open space. He was grinning cheekily, as if he was about to perform a trick. Esmeralda expected him to show off his horseback riding skills, but he didn't even jump on the horse.
"Achilles, sit," he commanded, and the horse obeyed. Esmeralda laughed, her eyes twinkling in amusement.
"You really have a way with horses."
"And women."
"Whatever you say, Captain."
"Wanna ride his back?"
"No way. You're totally responsible for me if I get injured."
"You don't trust me?" he asked, a prominent sincerity in his voice.
"Of course I do, Phoebs," she answered genuinely. "But, I don't know. I have a fear of falling. Literally falling."
"That's too late, isn't it, considering you've already fallen for me."
She felt the back of her neck go hot, but she didn't falter from him. "Ah, yes. Who wouldn't fall for such a charming young man such as yourself? And your name, oh, your goddamn name. You are a sun god, and you've captured my heart."
Phoebus laughed, then turned serious again. "No, really. I'll teach you to ride."
Esmeralda was silent a moment.
"Fine."
The pair walked over to a station to get Achilles' saddle. Phoebus helped Esmeralda mount. She slipped her feet inside the stirrups as Achilles walked slowly in the grass.
"Shit," she muttered, shaking, as she almost fell to the ground. Phoebus held her hips firmly to support her. She felt herself relax a bit.
In no time, Esmeralda was riding Achilles with barely any fear. Phoebus had finally let go of her waist, but he followed beside Achilles.
"I hope he doesn't run," Esmeralda remarked, her nervousness slowly fading.
Just then, a flurry motion of a running horse filled the distance. Esmeralda and Phoebus looked at it in surprise, and finally the woman on top of it.
"Mulan?" Phoebus said in disbelief.
. . . . . .
"Pictures or it never happened," Flynn haughtily declared.
"Bro, I just met her. And besides, what was I supposed to do? 'Hey, wait a minute. Let's take a selfie!'"
"Of course not. You make them take selfies with you. Wow, you're absolutely charmless."
"You're absolutely full of shit."
"Touché, but I've got a smolder that kills. What have you got? Fleas?"
"Dick."
Flynn shrugged with a lopsided smirk on his face.
"Did you ask for her number?"
Aladdin shook his head slowly.
"God! Can you get even more clueless?"
"I just don't want her to think I'm creepy!" Aladdin said, throwing his hands in exasperation. "I mean, I just helped her away from that gang to ask for her number?"
"Well, how else will you contact her?"
"Oh, we'll meet again. I guarantee it," Aladdin said with a little smile, his eyes looking at somewhere uncertain.
"Mon Dieu. You've become some kind of a noble prince now. Maybe we should change your name to Ali and declare that you rule a kingdom called Ababwa."
"You really are full of shit."
"Ah!" Flynn snapped, looking at his empty plate. The apple he had put had disappeared. "Aladdin, would you keep your goddamned monkey in a cage?!"
"Sorry. He doesn't like cages, or self-proclaiming charming guys."
Aladdin's monkey, Abu, chomped on the apple. Aladdin grinned and high-fived him.
Ping!
Aladdin picked up his phone—a hand-me-down from Genie—under his pillow. A Facebook friend request filled his screen. He gasped in excitement. The picture. The name.
"SCORE!" he whooped.
Flynn shot him a questioning look from the sink as he washed his apple. Aladdin galloped towards him, frantically waving his iPhone in his face.
"I don't get it?"
He waved it in his face again and Flynn held his wrist to keep the phone from being wiggled.
"Damn, she's hot," Flynn said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Jasmine wore a blue crop top in her profile picture and she posed beside a tiger.
Aladdin grinned at him.
"See? So much you know," he cockily declared, going back to his bed. How Jasmine found him on Facebook was a beyond him, but he couldn't care less. He'd finally be able to talk to her again.
Not yet, but he will.
"I get why you like her a lot," Flynn said, biting his apple and sitting on his bed.
"Yeah," Aladdin said. "She's fun, and smart, and—"
"Pretty?" Flynn finished.
"Beautiful!"
Flynn shrugged. "Yeah. At least she's attractive."
"Oh, she's more than that, Rider. Ever heard of personality?"
"Yes, well. That, too."
Aladdin shook his head. "This is why you've never had a serious relationship."
"True, but they've all buttered my corn."
Aladdin looked at him in disbelief.
"Buttered your corn?"
"You know," Flynn flashed his perfect white teeth and wiggled his left eyebrow up and down, causing his friend to groan in disgust.