As always, big thanks to my editors Drucilla and BlueShifted!
After discussing it with my editors, I decided to split this into two chapters, so enjoy!
Christmas Eve is supposed to be a time of magic and wonder, especially for little children who've yet to understand life's cruelties. But instead of listening for the sounds of reindeer hooves on the rooftop, one particular child was sitting by the window and awaiting the sound of a motorcar. Snow had begun to fall outside and it became harder to see what was coming down the worn-down road, though the little girl was certain she'd still hear her uncle's car since it made noise like its own mechanical parade. It was getting late, however, and she knew her foster parents would beckon her to bed soon.
Something's not right.
Quietly she pleaded to Santa Claus that she didn't need a single present except to see her beloved uncle. Although, if Santa was also going to give her new ballet shoes and a pretty doll, she certainly wouldn't complain. Her eyelids began to droop, but before her body could fall into slumber, a jarring clattering erupted from outside. There was no mistaking that sound, and she jumped to the floor in joy. "Donald!" she called out, continuing to hop up and down in delight. "Donald, he's here! Uncle Ludwig is here!"
Haven't I seen this before?
Like a bolt of lightning, her elder brother raced into the room, almost knocking down the ailing Christmas tree in the corner that took up most of the room. He ignored the pine needles sticking to his sweater and white feathers, moving past his little sister to look out the window. "Are you sure, Minnie? Are you absolutely sure?"
No...No, I know how this ends.
Donald stood in the doorway, watching his younger self and his little sister happily pounce on their uncle on that Christmas Eve so long ago. It was this night that changed everything, and he slapped his hands over his ears in a desperate attempt to drown it out. He didn't want to go through this again. He didn't think he had the strength. Yet he could still hear his smaller self ask, "You are taking us there, right?"
But this time Ludwig's face brightened and he took Minnie by the hand. "Of course I am. I'm taking Minnie with me." With a hearty laugh, he picked her up into his arms, and she snuggled up to him. "Well, have a nice life, nephew. We'll be sure to write."
The adult Donald dropped his arms in shock, before bowling over his past image and trying to snatch Ludwig by the arm. "What do you think you're doing!" he snapped, his infamous temper threatening to boil over. "You can't just leave me behind!"
Ludwig smiled with hauntingly empty eyes, and Minnie copied the lifeless expression, tilting her head. "Isn't this what you wanted?" Ludwig asked cheerfully, not even blinking. "No more broken promises, no more family to tie you down. You can live exactly as you want." He then held up Minnie by an extra inch. "Isn't that right, mein kind?"
Little Minnie waved her hands about like a conductor would, repeating the words she'd said in the cave. "It's okay, Donald. Now you can stop sacrificing everything for me. You can live for yourself now. You're free of me," She said in a sing-song manner, even kicking her feet about. "Bye-bye, bruder!"
"But I didn't - " Donald faltered, his hands shaking as he tried to find words to match his inner horror. "I didn't mean – That's not what I wanted! I never asked you to go away!" He made a desperate grab for his sister, but his hands passed through her like wind. He tried again and again, yet for every attempt, they seemed to drift farther and farther away from him, their smiles painted on without a hint of fabrication. "It's not true! I didn't want this! I never wanted-"
"Then what do you want?" Ludwig and Minnie asked in union, before suddenly vanishing and leaving both Donalds alone in that cold room with a dying Christmas tree. The little one hadn't said a word, and merely watched his older counterpart with an unreadable look.
What did Donald want? He felt something ugly and horrible welling up inside him, but he covered his face, not wanting anyone to see it. "I just – I just wanted - " he stammered, feeling shameful hot tears begin to slide down his feathery cheeks. "I just don't want to be alone!" he howled in agony, falling to his knees, and burying his forehead in the carpet. He had tried for so long to act as if losing his parents hadn't hurt, as if Ludwig's abandonment was a mere obstacle on the path of true happiness, but they'd hurt, they'd hurt so deeply, and now he was losing his sister. Now he was crying like some stupid kid, all dignity and hope lost.
Then he felt a tiny hand touch his fingers. "What's so bad about that?"
Donald had completely forgotten this other one was there, and he was slow to open his fingers and looked upon his past. Yet his past didn't seem to mind the elder's behavior. "What's so wrong with not wanting to be alone?"
"I..." Donald stammered, trying to clean his face. "I'm an adult. I'm not supposed to need anyone. I have to be strong for Minnie."
"Then who's going to be strong for you?"
A stretch of silence passed between the past and the future, unsure of what to say. Donald couldn't believe he used to be so small. He almost felt like he should have apologized for never giving his childhood a chance. Yet the little one held no resentment, and eventually smiled, reaching over to pat Donald's forehead. "The world's a big place, I think. Even in that tiny kingdom, there's a whole bunch of people. Can't you make some friends?"
Donald snorted, turning his head away. "Who'd want to be friends with me? No one can stand me. I can't even stand me anymore. My own sister hates me. She...wouldn't even look right at me when she left." He began to stand up – and that's when his younger self kicked his shin. "OW!" Donald yelled, grabbing his leg and hopping up and down. "Why you doggone stubborn little brat!"
"No, YOU'RE the doggone stubborn little brat!" the child growled, hands on his hips. "I don't care what she said! Do you love her or not?"
"Of course I love her, but that's-"
"Then shut up and go after her!" The little one grabbed two fistfuls of Donald's coat and refused to let go. "You don't wanna protect Minnie just because she's your sister. You love her for who she is! She's nice and smart and she has hope even when everyone else would give up! And she didn't give up this time either! If she wasn't looking at you, dummy, then where was she looking?"
Donald grabbed his younger self by the wrists in an effort to pry him off, but as he looked upon his hands, the memories returned as crystal clear as clean ice. No, she hadn't been looking at him in her final moments as she gave herself away. Her eyes had been down, but not out of pathetic sadness. They weren't on the ground, not on the ice, but on -
On the magic sword that had been frozen in his hand.
No, she hadn't given up on him, had she? Minnie believed in things when no one else would. For so long he'd seen that as a weakness, as a childish folly – but perhaps that optimism had taken true strength, more strength than it took to see the world only for its disappointments. They both had every reason to keep their heads down and trudge on in life, but she'd chosen to keep her chin up and look for light in a dark world, and now, Minnie was counting on him.
"It's not too late," the younger Donald murmured gently, placing something into Donald's now open palms – the same toy sword with his name. "For Minnie, for Ludwig, for that doll of a prince, for Daisy, for everyone in the kingdom. And it's not too late for you."
Donald clutched the sword tightly in both hands. If he continued using this magic to save the kingdom, he could die. Yet he lowered his shoulders and held his sword high. "Well, I'm not dead yet," he declared. "No more promises! I'm doing what I have to with my own strength!"
"HANG ON, MINNIE! YOUR BRUDER IS COMING!"
And that's when he woke up from his dream, the ice around his body cracking. Donald's eyes snapped open in time to see the ice falling off into melting chunks, his sword lit aflame once more. Within seconds, the same freedom happened to Ludwig, who cried out in shock, to Daisy, who would have jumped in glee if she could feel her legs, and for Mickey, who toppled over due to his wooden weight. Donald stumbled once he was wholly able to move and stared intently at his sword. It still burned, and he could feel the same overwhelming exhaustion that had come when he cured the Sugar Plum Fairy.
"Gimmie a minute," Daisy said as she leaned on a wall for support, "And I'll kiss you in gratitude all over again!"
Ludwig knelt down to help Mickey up, but his eyes never left his nephew. Though all he could see was Donald's back, he could see from the strength in his body that a fight had begun. "You're going to go back for her, aren't you?"
"Not just her." Donald could hear his horses outside the cave, knocking their hooves on the snow. "I'm not leaving until all of Mausekönig is free from that rat king. And I don't want you to tell me to run away or to not use magic, because you know me. I don't listen to anyone."
"H-Hold on!" But the objection didn't come from Ludwig – it was Mickey who shuffled to Donald's side. "You've gotta let me come with you! This is my fault, I have to fix things!"
"Count me in too!" Daisy smacked her palms together, eyes burning with the intensity of revenge. "I owe Mortimer a lifetime's worth of punches to his big fat nose! If he can't change me again, then I'm invincible!"
That just left the oldest member of the heroic band, and all turned to look at the quiet Ludwig. He adjusted his spectacles – it was difficult to tell when exactly it had happened, but one of the lenses had popped out. "I'm not sure how much help I can be to any of you. I've done nothing but burden you all, and you can't even ask me for advice." He even took a step back, ready to wander further into the dark cave. "I've been a lousy uncle. I've been a lousy royal aide." he shoved his cold hands into his empty pockets. "Tell...Tell Minnie I do love her."
"Aw, tell her yourself, you sad sack," Donald huffed, marching forward and yanking Ludwig by the shirt collar. "I didn't get off the pity train just so you could take my seat. You're coming with me." Unwilling to hear any further resistance, he began to drag Ludwig to the horses.
"Didn't you hear a single word I said!" Ludwig struggled to reason with him, and when he looked for help from Daisy and Mickey, they merely shrugged. "I can't do anything for you!"
"You're not going to escape your responsibilities if I have anything to say about it!" Donald only released Ludwig once they were outside, but then he turned and jabbed his sword near Mickey's chest – the wooden prince would have jumped had he been able to. "That goes for you too, doll face!"
"Nutcracker!"
"You gotta apologize to your people for what you did! Maybe even get on your knees!" Donald paused in his rant to inspect Mickey's legs. "If you can kneel. Or lay on your face."
"But-" Mickey held up his hands defensively, knowing Donald had amazingly good points but afraid of where they would lead. He was also afraid of catching on fire, which is why he kept backing away every time Donald got closer. "What if they don't forgive me? What if they don't want me as a prince?"
"Doesn't matter!" Donald kept poking Mickey until the mouse was also outside of the cave. "You should want to apologize because it's the right thing to do! Both of you! It's about doing the right thing, and darn the consequences! We have to save everyone, then we can care about what they think! Now get moving!" He then whipped around to address the last member. "And you!"
Daisy blinked rapidly. "What did I do?"
"Don't kiss guys like crazy until you know their first and last names! And you're both dating! Now get on the horse!" He yanked her by the wrist, but he honestly didn't have to. Daisy would have happily done whatever he asked – this side of him was quite enjoyable.
"Does this mean we're dating?"
"If I live through this, sure! Whatever!" The fire on his sword began to die down, but Donald knew it would live again when the time was right. He swallowed down his weariness and climbed atop his horse, with Daisy choosing to climb up as well. Ludwig uneasily sat on the second horse, taking a guess at how the remains of the reins were supposed to work. That left Mickey to jog behind, as they didn't want to risk the horse's bones breaking. Mickey watched Donald as he rode on ahead, knowing he was risking his life and going forward nonetheless.
Mickey felt jealous, but in a strange way, it felt good. For so long he only had old rulers in textbooks to admire and look up to, but now there was a man of flesh and blood who was showing him what it meant to be a leader. No wonder Minnie wrote so fondly of Donald in her letters.
Once when Minnie was little, she'd worn her ballet shoes all day from morning to night. She had thought doing so would improve her steps and make her a better dancer. But it wasn't long before she'd gotten blisters and her feet were in agony. Her ballet instructor warned her over doing something so foolish ever again and Donald carried her around until he was completely sure her feet were healed. His arms felt so strong and secure, she could fall asleep in them.
"C'mon, don't tell me you're tired already!"
In the present, Minnie felt she could have fallen asleep because of how drained she felt. Ever since she had returned to the castle, Mortimer had ordered her to dance – and he hadn't let her stop. Not to eat, not to rest, not even when she inevitably fell over on the floor. In the corner, Mortimer had used his magic to enchant instruments to endlessly play, and he treated himself to a feast fit for a king. Minnie was his entertainment, and he didn't care that the average person wasn't built to dance for hours on end.
She crawled onto her arms, her face dripping with sweat. "P-Please, your highness...I just need a few minutes..." Minnie could only hope blood wouldn't show through her ballet shoes. If he became disgusted with her, that could put her on his next-to-enchant list.
All of Mortimer's eyes rolled and he slumped in his seat. "Well, now I'm bored. Why do the best toys break so easily?"
The right face clicked its shorter tongue. "Real shame we let those ducks go, they could've made for some really funny jesters."
The left face snorted through its bigger nostrils. "Good riddance to 'em, I say! We don't need anybody who'd get in our way."
"Easy, fellas!" Mortimer of the middle interrupted, holding up his hands. "What's past is past, so let's find something fun for the here and now! Let's forget all about those trouble makers."
Minnie didn't want to look up and see Mortimer's disfigured faces, but as she lifted her head to do just that, she could see he wasn't even looking at her. His narcissism kept his attention almost 24/7, even to the point of stupidity. Even though he possibly had three brains, it didn't make him any smarter. If anything it made him greedier. As Minnie's eyes moved from one face to the other, she saw that maybe there was a way to use this obvious overconfidence.
She sat on her knees, cocked her head back, and let out the most pitiful wail she could muster. "Oh, no! This is awful!" she cried, pretending to wipe away tears instead of sweat.
Mortimer suddenly sat up right, surprised by the outburst. "What are you going on about?"
The ballerina placed her arm over her forehead. "My poor bruder! Why, oh, why didn't I see this coming?" After a quick glance to make sure Mortimer was paying attention, she made her fake cries even louder. "He's going to come back for me! I'm sure of it!"
Now the false prince narrowed all his eyes, trying to decipher what her sobs were saying. "Whaddya mean he's coming back? Didn't you tell him he could get lost? Who would be foolish enough to come back when I could turn them into potted plants?"
"Oh, but my bruder is so very foolish!" Now that the fish had noticed the bait, time to make it wriggle. "Most people are so very foolish when it comes to you, your highness, but he is the dictionary definition of foolish! I'm sure he'll come right here and try to save me, and you'll have to wait until he comes right into the castle before punishing him!"
"We will?" the right face asked immediately, puzzled.
"Of course you will! Because someone as brilliant as you would want to see him fail in front of his darling little sister, so it'll hurt all the more!"
"We would?" the left face questioned, but now it was starting to sound interested.
"Absolutely you would!" Minnie flopped onto her back, rolling back and forth, breathing hard through her nose for extra authenticity. "And you wouldn't need any of your guards, because you're such a genius! And I'm just a good girl who can't do anything but watch as all three of you defeat him! I'm sure it'll break my heart so much I could never love anyone again!" After a few unnecessarily loud chokes, she made sure to turn her head towards him. "Except for you, obviously."
The middle Mortimer slapped his hand on the arm rests of the throne. "Gentlemen, I have an idea! I say we let that troublemaker right back in here! We'll show him that no one can defeat us!"
"What a great idea!"
"Glad we thought of it!"
Letting out a sigh of both relief and exhaustion, Minnie hid a tired smile as she lay still on the floor. While she had been trying to point Mortimer in a certain direction, she hadn't entirely lied either. Her brother would absolutely come after her, as would her dear uncle, as would her dear prince, and though she had only met Daisy briefly, a woman with that amount of anger wouldn't turn back and hide. Though she had said harsh things to Donald, they were family, and more importantly they loved each other. Donald was many things – ill tempered, overprotective, and a downer. But he was also stubborn where it mattered most, and he cared for her when it could have been easier to live only for himself.
Yes, Donald would come and save her. It was just a matter of time and patience. But she would also have to do some work in saving herself. If Mortimer hadn't noticed this trick, he hopefully wouldn't notice another. He had infinite power atop his head – up to a point. It became harder to think of plans when her feet throbbed in pain though. Minnie grunted as she sat up, looking at her ballet shoes that seemed tighter than ever. Just as she reached over to pry one off, she stopped – infinite power up to a point.
Minnie gulped. She didn't want to do this. She was afraid, and there was a good chance this could wind up killing her. She shut her eyes tightly, but wound up seeing images of the sad mutated servants, of her princely nutcracker who didn't have the courage to defy tradition, and of her brother with a target on his back. With all of these in mind, she spoke again. "If only I could dance forever and ever."
All of Mortimer's pupils centered on her, latching onto the idea without giving it another thought. "That's perfect! You CAN dance forever and ever! See, aren't I good to my girls? Besides, I need something to pass the time while your idiotic brother gets here. So, on with the show!" He clapped his hands together loudly, and the rubies atop the crown emitted a harsh glow. Violent red light shot out from the crown, striking Minnie's ballet shoes and turning them as red as the blood pooling inside them. Minnie bit down on her tongue to keep from screaming as she felt the magic enter her very feet – it was as if worms with vicious teeth were crawling through her skin and taking ahold.
There was no time to adjust to this terrible sensation as she found herself propelled upward by her own feet. Though each and every step was excruciating torment, she couldn't make herself stop. Her feet were under another's command, instructed to dance until, well, forever and ever. Eventually Mortimer would summon his guards and give them the odd order to let any intruders in, but until then, he laughed with a child's delight at his whirling toy. What did he care if it broke? There were plenty to pick from afterward.
As Minnie twirled and twirled in dizzying torture, she repeated three words over and over in an effort to keep herself awake and sane. The words she had to say Donald to make up for the pain she'd caused him back in their uncle's cold torn apart home.
I'm sorry, Donald.
