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10. Puppy Love – Celtic Thunder

Minnie knew from the moment she woke up that morning that Mickey wasn't going to be there by the time she went to bed that night. It wasn't anything he said, she just knew. She always knew.

The worst part was that she understood. She couldn't be angry at him. That would be irrational: How dare you go off and try to save the multiverse. I want someone to wake up to every morning! I want someone in the throne next to mine. I want someone to help make the tough decisions in running a kingdom. I want you to stay with me. I want you.

She went about her duties without reproach. When Mickey retired early and didn't return, she didn't comment or send servants to find him. She signed off on a royal proclamation; tended to a trade agreement that had been lurking under a mound of paperwork, and answered three RSVPs to parties she didn't want to attend but had to anyway. When her stomach growled she could have sent for food to be brought to the study she shared with Mickey when he was around. Instead, she stared at his empty side of the desk, set down her pen and went to the kitchens herself.

Queens were supposed to like expensive, lavishly prepared foods with unpronounceable names. Minnie made herself a jam sandwich, took a pitcher of strawberry cordial out to the garden and sat amongst roses the same colour as her drink. She ate quietly and spent a while picking crumbs off her skirts. When she was sure she was alone, she unobtrusively took out her hankie and cried.

Please be safe, she thought. Please be careful. Please come home. Please come back to me.

"I miss you already," she whispered.

Something rustled in the bushes. A small yellow bullet shot out, bounded up and landed on her chest. Minnie flew backwards off her seat and stared up at the … puppy?

"What -?" she started.

Mickey puffed up behind the puppy, clutching a leash that had snapped in the middle. "I know you get lonely when I'm away, so I thought …" He trailed off. For a mouse who had a way with words, he still got tongue-tied around his young wife. "Um, his name's Pluto."

"You got me a dog?" Incredulity crept into her voice, raising its pitch. She had duties to attend. Work was all that kept her sane while he was away: protecting the castle, keeping on top of daily responsibilities, dealing with obligations that came part and parcel with being ruler.

"Daisy said you drown yourself in work while I'm gone." Mickey sounded apologetic. "I just thought this would be better …" He stopped. Dropped his gaze. Scuffed his feet in a very unkingly way. "I miss you already, too," he finished softly.

Minnie sniffed. Smiled. Put her hand up to stroke the dog sitting on her chest and laughed as he instead licked off all her tears. It wasn't the same, but it was a promise, of a sort. Kings and queens usually gave each other jewellery to signify promises like this. Of course Mickey gave her a beating heart to care for and love, and to love her back unconditionally until he returned and could do that himself. "You have to come home and do your share of walkies."

Mickey grinned. "Deal."