Author's Note: This fic took me 5 years to write, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Crossposting from AO3.
The fictional geography in this story has very little to do with that of the real world or any established comic/cartoon/movie/Broadway canon. Additionally, any resemblance to actual places is largely coincidental. The fictional Scotland in this story is modeled on Anastasia's post-Revolution Russia and is not at all meant to be a statement about Scotland in any way or at any point in history. Likewise, the views expressed in this fic do not necessarily reflect the views of the author.
Six Years Ago
The music swelled as men and women in dazzling suits and gowns spun around the room in unison. The king sat on his throne at the head of the room, scowling.
"Lighten up, Uncle Scrooge," said his nephew beside him. "We're celebrating!"
"A waste of time and money is what it is," the king muttered.
The prince rolled his eyes. "Everything's always about money with you," he said.
The crown princess came off the dance floor, flushed and breathless and smiling.
"Come dance, Uncle Scrooge," she said, holding out her hand.
The king grunted. "Don't you have better things to be doing than spinning around in circles?" he said. "Like looking after those boys of yours, perhaps?"
"They're just enjoying some harmless fun," the princess said, scanning the room for them. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted them. A piercing whistle escaped her beak, quieting many of the guests even as the orchestra continued to play. Three sets of eyes turned guiltily toward the princess and she pointed to the ground in front of her. The boys began to slink towards the throne.
"What were they up to this time?" the prince asked.
"Tying Count Gander's and Baron Von Drake's shoelaces together." She sighed. "I just don't know what I'm going to do with them, Donald."
But Donald was snickering. "At least Uncle Ludwig wouldn't have minded," he said. "And Gladstone's luck—"
The princess gently smacked her brother on the arm. "I'm serious!"
"I'm sorry, Della," he said. "But I don't know how to control kids like that. Maybe try sending them to bed without any supper?"
"That's barbaric!"
"Hey, you asked."
By this time, the three young ducklings had made it to the throne, heads hanging.
"We're sorry," said the first, wearing a tiny version of the court uniform in red.
"It was Dewey's idea," said the third, wearing an identical outfit but in green.
"Hey!" said the second, clad in blue, breaking formation to glare at his brother.
Della stifled a laugh. "Boys—"
But before she could scold them, the doors on the opposite end of the room burst open. The orchestra abruptly stopped playing, and the crowd parted as Magica De Spell strode through the ballroom.
The king rose from his throne. "How dare you return to the Money Bin!" he said. Behind him, Donald and Della pulled the boys back, standing in front of them protectively.
"But I am your confidant!" the sorceress said, her voice dripping with false sweetness.
High above in a darkened balcony, a young girl watched the scene unfolding before her. "No," she whispered.
"Confidant? Ha! You are a traitor, after only money and power!" Scrooge's eyes narrowed. "And my lucky dime." He signaled to his guards. "I want you away from my family! I want you out of my Money Bin! I want—I want you out of Scotland!"
"You think you can banish the great Magica De Spell? Bah! I banish you, with a curse!"
Gasps came from all over the room.
"Mark my words, Scrooge," she said. "If you don't give me your Number One Dime, your empire will fall!" Magica raised her wand. "I will not rest until I see you and your family broken, penniless, and begging in the streets!" She shot a beam of magic at the chandelier and it fell, barely missing the people nearby.
"Bah!" Scrooge said as guards grabbed her by the arms, wrestling her towards the door.
Magica pulled a foof bomb out of her sleeve. "I'll see myself out, thank you," she said, throwing it on the floor and effectively incapacitating the guards as she disappeared into thin air.
If anyone had thought to glance up, they would have found that the girl in the balcony was gone, too.
The party ended very quickly after that, and though the royal family tried to go on as normal, the triplet princes couldn't help but notice their glittering world begin to rust and tarnish.
The people became resentful of the king's mighty fortune. No matter that he'd earned it through honest work. No matter that he paid more in taxes than any person, family, or corporation in his kingdom. No matter that he hadn't allowed any member of the royal family to draw a salary from the royal coffers since the beginning of his reign. No matter that his vast financial empire had brought jobs and prosperity to the people. Suddenly, they were rising up, demanding more and more.
Explosions rumbled in the distance like thunder, Della looked out the window, searching for their source, but they were too far away to see.
"Mom?" Louie said.
"I'm scared," Dewey said.
Della turned to her boys. She looked at their anxious little faces for a moment, the weight of their emotions settling over her like the sky on Atlas' shoulders. Her beak broke into a smile.
"Don't worry, boys," she told them. "Nothing can get to us in here."
"Nothing?" Huey asked.
"Nothing," Della said again. "Uncle Scrooge has turned this place into a fortress. There are booby traps everywhere, and the walls are three feet thick." She wrapped her arms around her boys and pulled them close. "We're safe."
Another explosion sounded. The water in the glass on the night table on the other side of the boys rippled.
Della cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to her. "It's time for bed!" she said.
"Bed?" Dewey said with dismay.
"How are we supposed to sleep with—with all this noise?" Louie asked.
Della clapped her hands twice. "Into bed!" she said.
The triplets did as they were told, though not without a few grumbles.
One by one, Della tucked them in, snuggly pulling up the covers and giving them each a kiss on the forehead. Then, she pulled up a chair between Huey and Dewey's beds and began to sing.
"Look to the stars, my darling baby boys,
Life is strange and vast."
Louie slid out of his bed and climbed on top of Dewey's, resting his face in his hands and careful to keep his elbows off of his brother's legs.
"Filled with wonders and joys,
Face each new sun with eyes clear and true,
Unafraid of the unknown,
Because I'll face it all with you."
Louie had watched as Huey's eyes slipped shut, and then Dewey's. His own must have at some point, as well, for the last thing he knew, he was being carried the few steps back to his bed and tucked back in.
Della kissed him on the forehead. "Good night, my darling boy," she whispered, and Louie fell into the sweet embrace of sleep.
The room shook. The sounds of explosions and crumbling plaster filled the air, punctuated by gunshots. Louie woke with a start to find his mother shaking his brothers awake while his uncle threw their clothes into a carpet bag.
"Get dressed," Della told them, worry lining her face. They quickly did as they were told, knowing that now wasn't the time to argue or ask questions.
The Money Bin was in chaos. Thick smoke filled the air. People rushed back and forth. Each explosion brought with it a small hailstorm of plaster from the walls and ceiling, sending everybody around into coughing fits, even with handkerchiefs pressed to their beaks. Della grabbed Huey and Louie's hands and Donald grabbed Dewey's as they hurried along.
The boys knew better than to ask questions.
Louie had trouble resisting the urge to duck and cover each time another explosion shook the Bin. Instead, he found himself freezing in fear, throwing his free arm up to shield his head. Della just pulled him along, her beak pressed into a thin line. Louie could tell that she wanted to yell at him, go go go go go, and yank him harder; they didn't have time to be scared. But instead, she remained silent.
Louie wasn't sure which was worse.
"There ye are," Scrooge said, rushing to meet them. He, Della, and Donald began to talk quickly, their voices hushed so that the boys couldn't hear. Louie grabbed onto his brothers, swallowing the sobs that threatened to rise up. He silently begged himself to wake up from this nightmare, but deep down, he knew it was too real to be a dream.
The Bin shook again, and the brothers pulled each other close, Louie closing his eyes tightly and holding his breath until the world stilled.
"We'll meet up in Duckburg," he heard Scrooge say. "I've got a Bin there, and…"
Another explosion, the biggest one yet, shook the Bin, and large chunks of plaster fell around them.
"We have to go," Donald said.
Scrooge turned to Louie and pressed something small and solid and round into his hand. "Guard it well," he told him before disappearing into the smoke.
Louie had just enough time to shove the object into his pocket before his mother once again grabbed his hand and pulled him along.
"Where are we going?" Huey asked, his hand now firmly clasped by in Donald's.
Another explosion rocked the Bin, cutting off any chance of an answer. Then they were moving again.
They hadn't walked more than ten paces before they were stopped by yet another explosion. Plaster fell around them, far thicker than before.
"Donald!" Della said, coughing.
Donald, Huey, and Dewey were nowhere to be found, their familiar forms replaced with a barrier of broken plaster and wooden beams.
Della hesitated for a moment before tightening her grip on her son's hand.
"Duckburg," she said quietly to herself, and they kept going.
The smoke and dust soon became so thick that Louie couldn't see much past the tip of his beak. He couldn't even see his mother; the only way he knew she was still there was her hand holding onto his.
But suddenly, that hand was gone, and there was a scream, and a strangled, "Run, Louie!" and Louie was running, running through smoke and dust so thick that he felt like he was drowning. And then he was outside, the cold, snowy air burning through his chest just as much as the smoke had, but he kept going, slowing to a stumbling walk as the sounds of fighting and violence became more and more distant. Still he kept going, well after the sun's rays peaked over the horizon in the east and then disappeared in the west once more, trudging through the snow that blanketed the ground. The last thing he knew, he was falling face-first into a soft, welcoming pile of snow before the world went dark.