Chapter Four


Meg: Well people, I am now officially a lifeguard!

JWJ: God have mercy!

Meg: Hold on, I got like the second-highest score in the class! And I got the same exact score as my ex-boyfriend.

JWJ: They can take away your certification for cheating, you know.

Meg: And I can take you out of this author's note for being a complete moron.

JWJ: Go ahead, I don't want to be in a story about a stupid mouse who acts like Sherlock Holmes and an even stupider rat.

Meg: Ratigan'll kill you for calling him that.

JWJ: Like I care about a fictional character.

Meg: Uhuh, you'll care when he feeds you to his cat.

JWJ: That is not going to happen! He's not real!

Meg: He is so real!

JWJ: Meg, read my lips: He doesn't exist.

(Ratigan appears)

Ratigan: Pardonnez-moi, Mr. Jordan?

Meg: (mouth gaping open) Run.


Ratigan paced outside the door, deep in thought. The girl... she was Danish, of course. She looked Danish; she spoke Danish. She would do perfectly. But her voice... it was so beautiful. She looked so beautiful, standing there, singing-

I can't let this happen!
Ratigan thought angrily. She's just a girl, a nun for that matter! She's only a tool in my plan, not a distraction!

He glared at the door. He would show her, Basil, all of Mousedom, that he was invincible!

One of the thugs who had captured me came into the room, and threw a bundle at me. "'Ere," he said. "Professor wants you to try these on. Come out when you done." He left.

I opened the bundle. A gorgeous scarlet gown with gold trimmings was in there as well as a pair of red slippers. I carefully put on the dress, making sure I didn't rip it. I also tried on the slippers. They were a perfect fit.

I opened the door, and found myself in a large banquet hall, a pile of trunks and carts in the corner. Ratigan was ordering his men about, packing things into boxes. It seemed as though they would be going somewhere soon.

As I walked toward them, some of the mice stopped working, gazing at me. Soon, everyone noticed me, even Ratigan. I soon saw why. I could see my reflection in a broken mirror. It didn't even look like the young, immature mouse I had known before. I looked like a lady, a queen! I looked absolutely stunning.

"Looks like you got your Princess, Professor!" one thug said. The others cheered.

"All right, get back to work!" Ratigan barked. He took my arm and pulled me back into the bedroom.

"Princess?" I asked, as he locked the door. "I am not a princess, sir. I am just a common girl."

"My dear," he answered, "do you realize who you look like?"

"No."

He showed me an old picture of a young mouse, dressed in a ballroom gown. She looked exactly like me!

The evil rat's eyes glinted. "You resemble the late Princess Christine's grandmother when she was just 20 years of age. You could even pass as her. Meg, you will become the Princess of Denmark."

"What?"

"Fourteen years ago, I devised a plan to kidnap Princess Christine of Denmark for the ransom money. It worked smoothly; at least until the girl died by error of one of my henchmen. No one outside of my operations knew. I disposed of the body but kept the music box, which the little girl had been clutching when she was kidnapped. Three years ago, my lair was looted after my supposed "death," and the box was taken. Basil had bought it off of an old "associate" of mine who had stolen the box.

"We will be leaving for Denmark in two days. You are going to pose as the princess, pretending you had lost your memory all these years. You will then turn over power to me, and I will rule!" He smiled evilly at me.

"NO!" I shoved Ratigan aside, trying to open the door. I forgot he had locked it. The rat grabbed my arm and jerked me around, slamming me against the door. He leaned in close to me, whispering in a deadly tone. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I won't be part of such a disloyal plan! How dare you, telling me to commit treason against my own country! I won't do it!"

Ratigan pulled out his pistol and held it against my head. I stopped breathing. "Now will you take part?" he asked, pressing it into my skull.

I was scared of dying. But I knew that he would take over my country, forcing the creatures to follow a tyrant! I would rather die than make all those mice suffer.

"Ratigan, I would rather die than offer service to the devil!" I exclaimed.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the BANG. It never came.

The professor smacked the side of my head, knocking me to the ground. He went to the desk, taking the lamp. He then kicked me away from the door. He unlocked it, screaming, "You'll regret this, wench!"

He slammed the door, leaving me in total darkness. I cried.


I slept fitfully. Nightmares passed through my head, all of Ratigan forcing thousands into poverty and enslavement.

Suddenly, someone was shaking me awake. "GET UP!" a voice said.

The one called Slackett and another mouse pulled me off the bed. I was dragged through the banquet hall, and out into a cold, stone-floored area. I now realized the location of Ratigan's lair to be a sewer. Ratigan stood by a bundle on the ground, which was moving about. Something alive was in it!

He turned toward me as I was brought forward, still wearing the royal dress. This time, he had his waistcoat, overcoat, and opera cape on, as well as that top hat. He looked every inch the menacing presence that loomed in the portrait on Basil's mantel.

"Well, Meg," he said. "I've given you time to think about my proposition. Will you join me? You would have all the finest things, no rules to follow, riches beyond your imagination. You would be a queen! And all you have to do is a little acting on your part. Will you do it?"

I was suspicious. He was in a much better mood than he had been in before. What trick did he have up his sleeve?

"Ratigan," I said, well aware of the pistol in his hand, "my answer is still the same. I will not take part in such an evil scheme!"

"Very well, then, my dear." The professor motioned for two other thugs. They promptly untied the bag, and dumped out a young woman onto the ground. She was badly beaten and disheveled. I saw the rosary before I noticed the habit she was wearing.

"ANNE!" I screamed, running to aide my friend. Ratigan restrained me easily. I tried to punch him, but he resisted each of my blows. "YOU SCUM! HOW COULD YOU! LET HER GO, SHE'S NO USE TO YOU, SHE'S ONLY A HARMLESS MOUSE! I HATE YOU, I HATE-"

He covered my mouth. "Meg, you would not listen to me. I do despise disobedience, and you have been disobedient and unwilling to cooperate from the moment you came here. Now, this poor girl must pay the price."

He tossed me to the thugs. My mind was spinning. Anne was my one true friend. She was also in training to be a nun, and we had taken to each other immediately. She defended me numerous times, causing some of the sisters to act more tolerably toward me. She was also so kind and pious; the perfect saint, in my opinion. She didn't deserve this!

Ratigan grabbed her, making her kneel on the ground. Anne looked at me, bewildered. "Meg, what is going on?" she asked. I wept.

"Poor Anne Larson," Ratigan breathed. "To die so young. Pity her friend turned out to be her traitor."

"Meg?"

"S'not true, s'not true," I whimpered.

The professor put the pistol next to her head. "Any last words?"

"WAIT!" I found myself shouting.

Ratigan turned toward me. "What is it!" he snarled.

"If you controlled Denmark, you wouldn't kill anyone, would you?"

"Only those who resisted me."

I took a deep breath. "All right, if I agree, will you let her go?"

"I thought you were beyond reasoning. What makes you think that I will agree to save your "friend" now?"

I pulled myself away from the guards, and straightened myself up. "Sir," I said, "I don't have much in this world, but I don't want to lose the dearest person to my heart. Please," I pleaded, "please, let her go. She doesn't deserve this."

"Meg?" Anne asked. "Meg, what's this about?"

I tried hard not to look at her. "Never you mind honey."

Ratigan walked toward me, a devilish smile spreading his lips. "On one condition," he said.

"Yes?"

"You will consent to be my wife."

"I... I beg your pardon?" I stammered, hardly believing my ears.

"Meg," he said, "It would be difficult to convince the Danish government that you just wanted me to rule instead of you. They would accept a spouse of royal blood more readily. And I happen to be of noble blood."

"But I... but I... I'm only seventeen," I whispered. "I can't. I'm too young, too clumsy, too-"

"Do you realize you look much older than you are, my dear?" Ratigan interrupted. He was staring at me queerly again, sizing me up. I blushed. "Besides, you'll be going through training soon. I'll get rid of your old habits."

Anne tried to stand up. "No, Meg!" she exclaimed. "Don't marry him, I'd rather die than see you wed to that monster!"

"And if ya died, Sister," Slackett said, "the Professor'd just get another one of ya to murder, wouldn't ya Boss?"

"Of course," he answered silkily. "Meg, I am getting impatient. What is your answer?"

I knew I was trapped. Anne would die if I refused, and so would many other sisters from my convent. Meanwhile, no one would die if Ratigan ruled; he promised me they wouldn't. Well, at least not directly.

"Professor, will you let her go if I say yes?"

Ratigan paused. "No. Not until I am sitting on that throne." I must have been puzzled, because he said, "She would tell all the world that I was still alive. I would rather have this kept secret until the moment of my choosing."

"But you will treat her well and keep her from harm and then release her?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

He walked up to me, grasping my hand. "I promise, my dear."

I paused. "Yes," I whispered.

"Did you say something? I couldn't hear you."

"Yes, yes, I'll marry you!" I cried.

Ratigan pulled me in for a rough kiss, as Anne screeched, "No, Meg!" He held me there for a long time. I pulled myself away, turning from him.

"My dear, you'll have to get rid of those foolish ideas in your head, and get used to the fact. You are now mine!"


Lizz: No one can find Meg right now, so I'll have a go at this. Yes, Ratigan wants to marry Meg. I think it's really more of a lust thing. But anyway, who would want to marry that ugly rat? I'd rather marry Saddam Hussein.

RAEB: WHAT? You want to marry that scumbag? Even though he's a jerk and a bully, he's like, sixty years old or something!

Lizz: NO! That's not what I meant!

RAEB: Admit it, you like older men.

Lizz: I do not!

RAEB: Suuuuuuuuuuure.