As always, big thanks to my editors Drucilla and BlueShifted!

MICKEY SHE LOVES YOU, SOMEONE SMACK THIS BOY WITH A CLUE BY FOUR.

Also, Neraja and Garma are disney characters from the comic book series Wizards of Mickey!

Mickey truly and deeply loved his odd family of mermaids and nereids, despite the headaches and annoyances they could give him on a daily basis. They weren't the smartest fish in the sea, but they had good hearts and treated him well. Yet when Mickey headed out that day to see them, it was with great reluctance and hesitation. He needed help with a problem and he had no one else to turn to. The Axelias only knew what Mickey told them, and as for Minnie...well, the problem was about her. That was everyone here in his social circle, so he had no choice but to turn to his girls for aid. Whether they'd actually be of use was anyone's guess, but he had to try.

Their usual morning started out as it always did. He gave them whatever trinkets they had previously requested, they gave him fresh fish to eat, and then they dissolved into babbling about whatever sparkly thing had caught their attention an hour or two ago. Once everything appeared to have settled, Mickey loudly cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. The majority of the women turned their heads, but one or two still kept their conversation going. Mickey didn't mind.

"I need to ask you girls some questions," Mickey said, his cheeks already starting to burn despite the whole embarrassing ordeal having only just begun. "But you can't tell anyone else about this, okay? Not even Minnie."

"Why not?"

"Is this a new rule, like the No-Aphrodite rule?"

"You broke the rule!"

"I did not!"

"Minnie is very pretty, I like Minnie."

Clearly things were off to a fantastic start. "Because I said so, that's why," Mickey cut in before they could distract themselves even further from the topic at hand. Thankfully the girls appeared to accept his curt reasoning. "All right, first question. I know some of you got boyfriends and girlfriends and folks you...you..." Oh boy, the word itself was already giving him trouble. "You know, you... you really..." He desperately hoped they'd catch on so he wouldn't have to say it, but instead he merely had an audience of slow blinkers. "You...you..." He cleared his throat again and turned his head away, mumbling, his tongue feeling like taffy. "Okay, just...how do you know when you...luh...luuuhhh...love someone?"

Growing up, Mickey had heard the mermaids and nereids happily talk about men they had caught for themselves. To Mickey, that whole concept had seemed as distant as any other island. When he listened to them talk, it often sounded more like they'd caught another shiny bauble than had any genuine feelings for someone. But every so often a mermaid would fall for another mermaid, or a nereid with a nereid, or one for the other. Young Mickey had difficulty understanding the difference between this and friendship. At first it didn't seem any different than how they treated the other girls. All of the women in the water hung off each other, complimented each other freely, gave away kisses, it was all standard. But little by little Mickey had taken note of the subtle nuances of each relationship – like Delphina and Cyrena, who sometimes went whole minutes without saying anything, instead more than content to lean on each other and stroke each other's hair. Or Eleni and Feodora, who instead of asking for jewelry for themselves instead asked Mickey to make something for their other, wanting to match perfectly.

If these strange, bubbling, happy feelings toward Minnie were love, then Mickey had to do something about it. But first he had to know if these strange, bubbling, happy feelings were love. Mickey needed things in his life to be precise and accurate.

The girls had never been asked such a serious question before, and they gave it serious thought – as serious as they could make it, anyway. "Kissing!" one nereid volunteered, her hair so thick that clown fish often hid in it to hide from predators. "When you love someone, you want to kiss them a lot!"

Mickey thought he was in trouble before an elder mermaid spoke up, wearing a self-made "scarf" of seaweed. "That's not true! You can love someone and never ever kiss them. My third husband and I never kissed but I loved him very much. Love isn't about touching. Love is about feeling."

"Yes, feelings, feelings! It feels good!"

"Love feels very good!"

"I want to feel love!"

"I love you very much!"

"Aw, I love you very much too!"

Mickey snapped his fingers three times in a row to keep things back on track. "Look, I know love is a feeling. Sheesh." He rolled his eyes. "I need to know if that's what I'm feeling! Or is it just friendship? How do I know which is which?"

Either Mickey wasn't being as sneaky as he thought he was, or his family was a whole lot smarter than he gave them credit for, because it was Aquata who looked him right in the eye and said while pointing her finger, "It's Minnie."

"What - no! No it's not!" It was perhaps the most pathetic attempt at lying he'd ever made.

"Who else would it be?"

"You're not in love with any of us, are you?"

"And not with Axelia. Wouldn't say Axelia."

"Mickey loves Minnie! Mickey loves Minnie!"

"You spend a lot of time with her, more her than us."

"And she makes you happy happy happy."

"You smiiile when you talk about her."
"And you talk about her a looot."

Of all the times for them to actually pay attention to something! Mickey rubbed his face over and over, trying to find something to deny but they were right on the mark. The warm sensation in his chest never happened with any of the mermaids and nereids, nor with Axelia. As much as he enjoyed his time with all of them, spending time with Minnie was different. She engaged him, she wanted to learn, she was fascinated with everything he came up with. She valued his happiness and wanted to bring it to life day after day. Whenever she did speak about her life, it was only about the friends she made or who she adored and wished to help. She was sweet, and kind, and caring, and clever, and adorable, and oh no, he did love her, didn't he?

"Well," Mickey said, but no argument came forth, the word running out of his mouth like a stalled motor puttering and broken, in a silly attempt to get his brain working. "Well. Well. Well. Well!" Eventually the word stopped sounding like a word and just sounded like babbling, which his girls copied in amusement. "Well, okay, so, maybe, maybe, just maybe, I luhhh. I luuuhhhh. I love her. A little bit. DON'T START CELEBRATING!" He knew that was coming and with his hand out, he put an end to it before it even began, several girls frozen in cheering poses. "The second question is much more important."

"You want to know how to make her love you," Calista guessed, and many nodded with her in agreement.

"Of course not." Mickey's temper cooled – if he was in her shoes – well, scales – he'd have made the same assumption too. "A girl like that deserves better. And I don't wanna ruin the nice thing we have going. She's a great gal, a great friend. The sooner I stop luh-luuuh-having those feelings, the less awkward things gotta be." The idea of Minnie loving him never crossed his mind. That'd be madness. A girl that fantastic and a reject weakling like him?

Even if she said there was nothing wrong with him. Even if she accepted all of him. Even if she cried over his past and had apparently devoted her life to his happiness. None of that meant she could love him. She was just being a very, very, VERY good friend. Of course. Obviously. Maybe she acted like that towards all her friends – although that idea made his stomach churn.

Andria raised her hand. "Think about all the stuff you don't love about her! Like how..." She trailed off, trying to find a negative point about Mickey's friend and unable to come up with one. Rare silence fell over the group as they all tried to come up with her faults and came up with nothing, save for wordless gestures and scratching of heads.

Yet Mickey thought it was a good idea. "No, that's good! That's good, Andria, good girl." Andria beamed, even if she didn't understand. "See, you guys aren't with her as much as I am, she's got some bad stuff about her too. Like, sometimes when I'm working, she'll sit on the floor and lay her head on my lap and just watch me."

Rydia squinted. "That doesn't sound bad at all."

"Of course it's bad! When she does that, I can't concentrate at all! And then there's times, like, with the boat! She'll make me want to do something I don't like to do."

Damara clicked her tongue. "Didn't you wind up liking that a whole lot? You told us you wanted to make an even better boat after seeing it."

"Yeah, well, um, that's just more work for me!" Oh boy, he really did love Minnie, didn't he? Did he ever stand a chance? "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all."

"I've got an idea, but it'll break a rule," Lydia offered, swimming up to be closer to Mickey. "Is that okay?"

"Fine, but just this once." He patted her head to reassure her she wouldn't be doing anything wrong.

With permission granted, Lydia gained more confidence, and began to clap her hands in her water, making big splashes. "Just pretend she's Aphrodite! You hate Aphrodite, so if you pretend Minnie is Aphrodite, you won't love her at all!"

"Hmmmm." Mickey shifted around on the sandy shore, uncomfortable with the suggestion. "I don't know...Minnie's nothing like Aphrodite. She doesn't use her looks to get what she wants. She works hard, and she's smart! Not some air-headed beauty who just sits on Olympus and lets everyone tell her how nice she looks. Minnie's not like that. That's like comparing apples and oranges!"

"I like apples and oranges!"

"They're both very yummy."

"Are we allowed to talk about Aphrodite now?"

"Poseidon told me she's getting married!"

Mickey sighed, shaking his head. He thought of reinforcing the rule, but the girls had clearly done their best to give him their honest opinion and help him out, so he let them rattle on with silly gossip for a little bit more. What was the harm?

"Is she? Who is she marrying?"
"She's marrying Hephaestus."

"Isn't Hephaestus Mickey's name?"

"Mickey's name is Mickey!"

The harm was being so stunned Mickey almost slid into the water. "Wait a minute, back up, back up!" he yelped, flailing his arms about. "Did you say Aphrodite is going to marry Hephaestus?!" He then jabbed a thumb at his chest to remind them that, yes, he was Hephaestus.

Tallia had been the one to hear the rumor, and as she leaned her head back in thought, she remembered that, oh yeah, he was Hephaestus, wasn't he? "Poseidon said that's what she said. She said she was in love with Hephaestus and she'd marry him. It made Queen Hera very, very mad. Are you going to marry Aphrodite? I thought you hated her."

"Of – of course I'm not marrying her!" Mickey sputtered, a hand to his head as he tried to find some logic to this revelation. What in the world had happened up on the Mountain? Why would a goddess, the goddess of love and beauty, want to marry him? It made no sense – and then his anger returned, hard and hot, as he found the only reason she would do such a thing. "Why, she's just making fun of me! To her, I bet it's some big funny joke!"

Tallia tilted her head. "I don't get it."

"She's mocking me! She must've learned about me, and thought it'd be a gag to say that the goddess of love is marrying the ugliest god! The goddess who everyone accepted right from the get-go, and the god who got thrown off when he was born! I bet she thinks that's rich!" Each word became hotter, a rabid snarl as he imagined some vapid beauty laughing cruelly at his life, eating it up with the other snobby gods and goddesses on Mount Olympus. Why not? His whole life was a joke. Well fine, what did he care? I don't need nobody and nobody needs me -

Ah. But. That wasn't true anymore, was it?

Mickey's growling stopped, replaced with somber silence. His tense muscles relaxed, his anger evaporating, and he glanced at his reflection in the water. But instead of seeing his face, he saw Minnie, sweet Minnie, who had held him and kissed his leg and would never leave him. She'd never do anything to hurt him.

"Minnie would never do that," Mickey said quietly, watching Minnie's image vanish in a few ripples. "She's not like Aphrodite at all."

Normally when Mickey's anger, or more specifically his sorrow in reaction to any form of pity, was at its highest it was impossible to calm him back down. He would rant and rave and return to his cave to vent out his aggression on his projects. Yet here and now, the girls saw that he managed to calm himself down all by himself just by thinking of Minnie. They'd already liked her because she was so pretty and because she was Mickey's friend, but this solidly sold her on them forever. If Minnie made Mickey happy, why, she was the best woman in the whole wide world.

"I like Minnie a whole lot," Rydia said, and in short time was joined by the others.

"I do too. I want her to stay with Mickey forever."

"I love Minnie lots."

"Mickey and Minnie should get married!"

"I wanna go to Mickey's wedding!"

Mickey smiled, and moved to stroke the hair of whoever was closest, allowing them to speak of weddings and pretty dresses and all the other tangents that grew from it without interruption. He doubted he was going to get any better advice, and decided to leave it at that. In time, he'd get over his feelings for Minnie. Since they were both immortal, they had eternity to change, and Mickey was confident that one day he wouldn't feel any love for Minnie. How, he couldn't say. It wasn't as if he was going to get sick of her curious questions or the feel of her hand atop his own, definitely not anytime soon.

Minnie was good and sweet, and deserved any man she wanted. He mused that such a soul would be the luckiest man in existence. For now he was content to be with his family, engaging them in whatever drivel they were yammering on about – he topic of weddings had led to rings and now the mermaids wanted rings on their tails – and his heart didn't ache. Instead of dreading or planning for the future, he ultimately decided to just be happy with what he had.

Minnie's tiara would be ready soon.

Deep in the furthest depths of the Underworld lived three people Donald didn't enjoy visiting. He avoided them whenever possible, as they gave him the creeps whenever they had a conversation – and he was well aware of the irony of the Lord Of The Dead getting creeped out. The Sisters of Fate were the keepers of mortal life, spinning the threads of life and snipping them when it was time to die. On several occasions Donald had come to them, reluctantly pleading for a mortal's life to be extended due to sad circumstances. He hated being seen as a softie, even if Daisy found it charming. The Sisters tended to mock his sympathies, and regularly abused it to make him beg on his knees for what he wanted or demand luxurious gifts. They knew that no matter how harsh they were, Donald couldn't punish them. Who else knew how to thread mortal life?

They absolutely never reached out to him, which meant that today the Underworld must have frozen over, since that's what they did. Donald was working on his schedule, trying to figure out the best time for him to see the nephew he'd never visited. He wasn't confident he could do it alone, and Daisy assured him that she and Minnie would be there. Then there was the matter of what exactly to say to the boy – other than an extremely overdue apology – and how he should present himself. Should he be natural as he was, Donald? Or try to impress him as the Master of the Underworld, Hades? He was pacing about, writing on an endless scroll, his mind bouncing about.

Should he get on his hands and knees? Or just hug Mickey when he saw him? Should he get his nephew a gift? Maybe invite him to the Underworld to see what it was like? He was so lost in these thoughts he didn't see the thin yellow thread sliding its way towards his foot – but he certainly felt it wrap around his ankle, and in the second he looked down to see what was going on, it yanked him off his feet and speedily began to drag him away across the cave floor.

On the River Styx laid islands inhabited by spirits, and each spirit stopped what they were doing when they heard a deafening "WAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHH!" echo across the Underworld, followed by several expletives so harsh that elder ghosts covered their descendants' ears. To save whatever is left of Donald's dignity, there's no need to go into all the bumps, corners, jagged rocks and near drownings he endured as a result of his dragging. It ended in roughly five minutes as he entered the lair of the Sisters of Fate, his belly scratched and aching, and having poofed into his smoky form about six different times. The thread untied itself from his ankle and laid down, now as normal and lifeless as thread should be.

Donald took one look where he was. "YOU CAN'T JUST WALK OUT AND ASK FOR ME LIKE A NORMAL PERSON?!" Whereas most mortals would tremble and cry at his thunderous voice, the Sisters just scoffed in unison.

"Why should we ever have to leave our home?" asked Neraja, the Sister of the Past, and the youngest by seconds. All three were ducks with soft white feathers, but Neraja was not only the tallest, towering over her sisters and her own spinning wheel, she was also the most beautiful. She had raven night hair spilling down to her feet, and eyes equally dark and alluring. Her flowing silk dress so deeply red that it would have been easy to mistake it for blood, and her arms were coated in trinkets symbolizing the moon and planets. It was her duty to pull along the threads of life so mortals could be born, and even now her hands were effortlessly pulling forth threads in all of her fingers, birthing several mortals at once across the world.

"You should be honored we've called upon you," declared Magica, the Sister of the Present, the middle child. She was a head shorter than Neraja, and the shortness also applied to hair that stopped at her shoulders, and a dress that cut off at her knees. Her outfit contained fading red and darkening purple, depending on how the candles in the cave were flickering. Her legs had ringlets of solid gold in perfectly shaped circles. It was her duty to keep the threads smooth during one's life, and cross and tie them over if certain lives were destined to meet and entwine. At the moment she was untangling a pair of lovers that had argued they should split up for good, and Magica was taking great enjoyment from it.

"It's deplorable that you show us such disrespect," came with a snort from Garma, the Sister of the Future, the eldest of the siblings, and with all the wrinkles on her face, one might have thought she was older by centuries. She was the smallest of the three, with a hunched back and blue veins throbbing underneath her dry feathers, her fraying gray hair dyed yellow in a pathetic attempt to hide this. Her dress had become so dark and faded it was impossible to tell what it once was, especially given how tattered and ripped it was, though she wore each tear like a badge of honor. Sharp teeth jutted from her beak, even showing when her mouth was closed. It was her duty to cut the thread when a mortal's life was up, and out of all the sisters, she enjoyed her job the most. Her scissors cut the air even now, eager to sever a living person from their body of flesh.

By this time Donald had managed to poof back into his normal form, and once the make-up was off he stood to attention and crossed his arms. "There's no way you hags invited me here for a pleasant chit-chat, so what did you need me so badly for?"

The Sisters grumbled together, reluctant to come forward and admit there was a problem. Impatient Neraja straightened her back, sticking out her chest – ever since Donald had married, she had tried to tease and flirt with him, but he'd never taken the bait, which was a great wound to her pride. Even now he looked at her eyes and nowhere else. "There's something amiss with one of the threads."

Donald blinked, looking at the millions of threads that laid on the floor, hung on the walls, roped the ceiling – it was impossible to know what the room really looked like, since everything was covered in different colored threads. He wasn't even sure if the Sisters had seats to sit on, or if the threads were so intricately wound and numerous that they could solidify and be sat upon. He never cared to ask. "How can you tell?"

Magica crossed her arms, glaring at Donald who glared back. "We've been at this since the first mortal was given life, we've never had this happen before!" She got out of her stone chair – oh, so they did have seats, Donald mused to himself – and strutted up to Donald, holding up a single white thread in his face. "Look at this!"

Donald looked at what he saw as a perfectly normal thread. If the Sisters said there was something wrong with it, then it had to be wrong, since they took pride in their work and hated being around Donald. He didn't want to come across as a fool by saying he couldn't see what the problem was, so he sucked on the inside of his cheek and squinted. With every passing second, the Sisters' eyes became harder, and he could feel himself shrinking. If only Daisy was here today, she'd give these women what for! Any insult they lobbed at her she could give back twice as hard. She wouldn't allow them to cut Donald down -

Cut? Donald blinked, and then reached over to touch the beginning of the thread – which indeed looked too perfect, too even, as if it'd been cut with a precise sharp object. "Say," he finally spoke out loud, rubbing the end with his fingers. "Garma's only supposed to cut the end of it, right?"

"I didn't cut it at all!" Garma hissed, her old bones loudly clicking underneath her flesh, her elbows sticking out in angry flutters. "How dare you imply that I would! I have half a mind to come down there and cut off your beak!" Garma sat atop the highest seated platform, so she could look down upon her sisters. Magica's and Neraja's were evenly spaced and evenly sized, as they often teamed up to insult their elder, when they weren't insulting each other.

"The old biddy is right," Neraja said while sliding a sleeve of her dress down her shoulder. Still no reaction, as Donald was studying the thread intensely. Peeved, she rolled it back up, deciding to stick to business, or at least what she saw as her business. "She knows her place. She'd never cut a thread before it's time."

"Who are you calling an old biddy, you impetuous brat!"

"Don't tell me you're going deaf, you stupid shrew!"

If Magica had joined in, Donald would have been more than happy to put the whole weird matter behind and leave as fast as his feet could carry him. But Magica was even-minded, sometimes, and she managed to stay focused. "Neraja has no memory of spinning this thread! It happened many days ago, I was pulling along as usual, and that's when I found this abrupt beginning of life!"

"And only felt like telling me now, I see," Donald muttered under his breath. No doubt the catty ducks had thought they could solve this issue on their own, and only "asked" for Donald's assistance when they realized they couldn't. He drew himself up, trying to figure it out, scratching his head with one finger. "So if I've got this right, instead of being born, this person just...suddenly...appeared out of nowhere and lived? Is that even possible?" It was a silly question because it couldn't be answered, but he had no clue how they thought he'd be of any use. "I guess I could try and look into it, but if it's just the once and it's done no harm, is it really that important?"

Neraja answered that first by throwing one of her sandals at his face. "Of course it's important! Creating life is MY job!"

"And if you don't figure this out," Garma snarled, pointing her sharp scissors in Donald's direction, "We'll never do another favor for you for the rest of eternity! No matter how hard you beg!"

"Noted," Donald sighed, rubbing the sore spot where the sandal had smacked. "Okay, fine, I'll look into it, but I can't make any promises. Can you tell me anything about this mystery person?"

Magica rubbed her fingers along the thread, her eyes momentarily reflecting the color of the thread, a marble white. "A young woman who lives with a sculptor...She knows nothing and must learn everything. She has been called a heroine in this humble village. At first she only wanted to please her man, but now she seeks to understand how the heart works."

"Yeah, that's not a needle in a haystack at all," Donald replied dryly, unimpressed by Magica's mystic mutterings. He managed to back up before she could kick him in the shin. "I said I'll do it already! But you have to keep your word too! As long as I'm making the effort, you still have to listen to my requests."

Neraja cackled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Of course we'll still listen to your pathetic wails over mortal life! It's one of the highlights of our lives! Seeing the great and mighty Hades grovel like a dog..."

"...All for the life of an insignificant peon!" Garma finished, laughing and knocking her head back as she found it funnier and funnier. "The lord of the dead who doesn't want any dead!"

This time Magica did join in, curling the thread around her fingers as she sneered. "Never forget, we hold the real power here! You will always be beneath us!"

"Sure, whatever," Donald smoothed down his robes, the insults having gotten pretty dull since he'd been hearing them for years. What were once daggers to his soul were now more like yippy Chihuahuas nibbling at his ankles. At times he wondered if they acted this way because they were lonely and wanted attention, even if it was poisonous, and so he was often the one feeling pity for them. Not that he'd ever tell them – they couldn't kill him, but they'd make him wish for it. If these miserable crones enjoyed being miserable, let them go at it. "I'll keep you updated." Relieved that it was done, he headed for the circular exit of the cave.

"One more thing, Lord Hades," Garma voice was low and dangerous as she glowered at him, and the others followed suit, lowering their heads and rubbing their hands together.

"Of course," Donald groaned, and turned right back around. "What now?"

"We have seen a prophecy," Garma announced, standing up tall, as did her siblings. "And it must be heard!" It wasn't often, but sometimes in the course of their duties, a spark would fly from the various threads, giving all three Sisters a vision of a possible future. It wasn't guaranteed, but whenever they had one, it had been ordered that Zeus was to be told immediately. They would tell Donald, who would tell Fethry, who would tell Zeus, who would then announce it to everyone else. It had been a rule established since the first prophecy prediction, which had said Zeus would overthrow his father, although later prophecies had never been so momentous.

Donald raised an eyebrow. "The last time you guys chucked out a big one, you said Zeus would be dethroned by a son. I don't see that happening anytime soon." If what Daisy had told him was correct, Mickey was in no shape to overthrow anyone, nor had a desire to. Zeus probably had hundreds of sons and daughters out in the mortal and godly planes, but so far none of them wanted his seat either. Not all of their prophecies came true, but for a big one to fail like that – it didn't bode well for the rest.

"It could still happen," Neraja defended, though her shoulders were slumping in defeat.

Magica ignored her and continued on from Garma. "In the near future, a great and bloody war will overtake the mortals! Thousands will perish, and the war will be endless! The Underworld will be flooded with the souls of the innocent! The will of Ares will bring about an end to mankind as we know it!" She drew up her hands, fingers twitching as if she was raining down souls from her fingernails.

Donald stared at all three of them, his temper threatening to rise, but he managed to stave it off. For a second. "You know, if I actually believed you, I would have suggested that you should have SAID THAT WHOLE THING FIRST BEFORE GOING ON ABOUT SOME STUPID THREAD!" Now it was he who towered over them in his form of deadly smog and glistening red eyes. "HAVE YOU BEEN HOLDING BACK ON ANYTHING ELSE?! OR DO YOU WITCHES JUST LIKE TORMENTING ME?!"

"Yep."

"Absolutely."

"Well, duh."

Honestly, what kind of answer was he expecting? He scowled at them a moment longer before poofing back to normal, not bothering with his make-up or ponytail or any other additions his anger tended to give him. "Doggone stubborn little..." He stormed out of the cave, cursing his rotten luck that his job was saddled with those wretches. He would tell Fethry about the prophecy, but he sincerely didn't believe a word of it. The will of Ares? Puh-leeze! Pete was a lazy slob who preferred to watch people fight, and threw temper tantrums when people got along. Besides, Zeus, as lazy as he was, would surely prevent the "end of mankind". He enjoyed the physical pleasures of it so much he'd never let it die out. Prophecies were merely one path out of millions. It was not a guarantee of anything.

With that in mind, Donald decided he wouldn't bring Mickey down and risk any chance of running into the Sisters. They didn't deserve a chance to meet his nephew, and he wouldn't subject Mickey to their sadistic whims. As his anger cooled, Donald reasoned that he should also find a way to thank Minnie for finding Mickey in the first place. He'd only met her once, but he found her charming and sweet. He wouldn't mind seeing her again, and much like Daisy, he found an urge to protect her from the things she was only just discovering.

He slowed his walk as he remembered that she too was an unusual discovery. It seemed like ages ago when all of the gods, goddesses and lower creatures were struck with that odd sensation, that "something was coming." That "something" had been Minnie, and then everyone went on as normal without ever questioning where she'd come from. Much like the odd mortal thread, he supposed, which indicated a mortal merely popped into life. Maybe the two were connected somehow, though he was sure Minnie would have brought it up to Daisy if she'd known anything. The two were as close as actual loving sisters, as opposed to the hateful brew back in the cave. Seeing Daisy speak so happily of her friend was quite entertaining, and while Daisy would try to deny she felt that strongly, it was clear that Daisy adored Minnie and would do almost anything for her.

Still, that made two mysteries in one short leap of time. Instead of concerning themselves over one mortal, shouldn't everyone be more worried about one goddess? Mortals couldn't come from nothing, and neither could gods. Gods had to be born too. That was the only way.

…Well. There was one other way to create a god.

But the idea of Minnie being created in such a way was so ludicrous that Donald slapped his own head for even imagining the concept. What had he been thinking? He should be concentrating on Mickey first, then the thread, before thinking about the impossible. When nearby spirits asked what had happened, he told them it was nothing important and they accepted it at face value. Donald resumed his planning, and chose not to give Mickey a gift, since he didn't know Mickey well enough to know what he liked, and chose to merely be himself when they met. It took up all of his day.

Yet far, far back in the reaches of his mind, the idea of the other way lingered, and one day it would be visited again. Only a handful of gods knew about this method, and they had no reason to speak of it because it hadn't happened since the dawn of creation. There was no way it could have happened again.

But. But! But! The almighty word that lingered and created frightening yet fascinating possibilities.

But if she had been born that way, then Minnie had the potential to be more powerful than Zeus and Hera combined. She would have enough power to topple Mount Olympus and burn the world itself to ash and dust.

What Donald didn't know was this was also one of the possibilities and prophecies that the Sisters of Fate had seen. They'd deemed it so ridiculous that they didn't bother to speak of it. Yet it was still out there, along with infinite others on the horizon.

The day ended with no questions answered.