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2. Jet – She's a Genius
Mickey held the candlestick aloft and peered around the door. The soft glow of a much smaller candle was the only illumination. Floor-to-ceiling books marked the room as the library, although most seemed strewn across the floor or open on the long table. The polished wood was almost completely covered, and where there were no books delicate scrolls lifted and swayed, as if trying to get closer to the tiny heat source.
Mickey approached with caution. He had intruded before when he wasn't wanted. "Minnie?"
She was a hummock of pink fabric at the end of the table. Someone – probably Daisy – had tucked a lacy white shawl around her shoulders. It was the kind of thing Daisy would do. Minnie didn't move, not even when he said her name again.
He crouched beside her. She had sagged across her work, a page still between her fingers, unturned. The edge of the book had waffled her cheek. Her eyelashes curled upwards like little black pencil shavings. He stared at her for a moment, close enough to feel her breath.
Suddenly he recalled the first time he ever saw her across a crowded ballroom when he was seventeen; her awkward in a corset and badly fitting headdress, he even more awkward at being made to dance when he fell over more often than not. They had both changed so much since then, some for the good, some … not so much. Their world had changed, and they had been forced to change with it. Sometimes it was enough to make him wish for the days when his worst trial was trying not to squash his partner's toes during a waltz.
He was aware that he should stay home more; should spend more time with Minnie and less seeking out darkness to fight, but his sense of duty poked and prodded until it overwhelmed his desire to just shut himself up in the castle and stay with her. He convinced himself it was better when he was gone – that he had a higher purpose than being just a husband – until occasionally he could be blindsided by how much he loved her. It smacked into him like a keyblade to the head, the weight of his feelings heavy and unforgiving. Those were the times he thought of fatherhood and the creep of years, until he forced himself to think that this was no time to bring up children, with the Darkness always trying to take over and so many enemies just looking for a weakness to exploit. Just look at Goofy's son, Max. The boy had enrolled in guard training and was already talking about killing Heartless. That was no way to live.
Minnie stirred. She blinked sleepily at him. "What time is it?"
"Time all the good little kings and queens were in bed," Mickey chided. "It's past midnight."
"I was just reading … about some spells … ooh, excuse me." She covered a yawn with her hand. "Nothing useful. All black magic."
"All the more reason for you to go get some sleep in a proper bed."
"I'll try again tomorrow. Maybe I can lighten the magic a little."
She would try, too. She may not go from world to world, or wield a keyblade, but Minnie had her own weapons against the Darkness and wouldn't hesitate to use them to defend her loved ones. In many ways, that made her scarier than the Heartless. They weren't nearly so intelligent.
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