And here's chapter two. I really like this chapter, for some reason. X3

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

The Prince and His Valet

ii.

"Where are we going?"

Horace cringed at the sound of the duckling's voice. That day, they had assumed that Donald's voice was the result of crying too much, and would heal over time. But as time wore on, it became clear that either all that crying had permanently damaged Donald's vocal cords, or that was how Donald's voice sounded like in the first place. The adviser strongly believed it to be the latter.

Another thing that they had discovered (the hard way) was the young duck's uncontrollable temper tantrums, to which His Majesty actually laughed at and told the whole court that "that was exactly how Quackmore used to be!" But that's another story. And Horace didn't really want to think about it right now.

"We are going to meet your new employer," he answered evenly.

"Employer? Aren't I too young to work?" Well. Say whatever you want, but Donald is proving to be a lot brighter than others are willing to give him credit for.

"Normally, yes. But you've been living in the palace for three years now, and we can't have other people think you're freeloading off His Majesty's good will."

"Oh," the duckling replied, "Does that mean that I'll start working for Henry now?"

"Donald," Horace chided softly. Donald winced at his own mistake and quickly corrected himself. "I mean…does that mean I'll start working for His Majesty now?"

Horace sighed. Maybe His Majesty should have thought it through before telling the duckling his name. "Close, but not quite," he answered. He found himself chuckling when Donald twisted his head up to look at him in confusion. "You'll be working for the Prince as his valet."

The duckling's eyes widened in surprise. There were no more questions as Horace led them through the halls towards the Prince's quarters. The adviser found the silence a bit unsettling, and decided to fill it up with instructions. "Now, the young sire is one year older than you, and His Majesty had decided it will do you both good for you to work under him. 'It'll be good for them to be around someone close to their age' were his exact words. But I want you to remember, even if he is only a year older than you, he is still royalty, and I want you to know your place. All the etiquette that I had taught you these years are to be put to use. And lastly, I need you to control your temper, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Horace knew the reply was serious and sincere, as if it had been in any other case, Donald would've answered with "Yes, Horace."

Before long, they arrived at the doors of the Prince's private quarters.

"Well then, I'll go in first to announce your arrival. You'll know when to come in." And with that, he opened the doors to greet the Prince.

Only to have a pail of water cascade down on him and the pail itself to lodge around his head. He yelped and lost his balance, falling to the ground on his behind. Inwardly, he groaned. He really should've seen that coming. But now, he couldn't see anything with the pail capsizing him, and all he could hear was the Prince's laughter and Donald's concerned yells of his name.

As he worked on getting the pail off his head, he was aware that the two boys had begun to converse.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing? You could've hurt Horace!" Hmm. He wasn't aware that Donald was that concerned for him. It was a bit…touching.

"Aw, lighten up, will you? It's all just a bit of fun." And that was the Prince. Young, brilliant, and a royal pain.

"Fun? Fun? Why you…I'll show you fun!" Well, so much for controlling his temper.

Horace got the pail off his head just in time to grab Donald before he could charge at the Prince. "Donald. It's fine. Let it go."

"But he-!"

"Donald."

The duckling scowled, but still, thankfully, stayed put. Horace regained his composure (as much as he can with his clothes dripping wet) and faced the other source of his growing headache right now. "As for you, sire," he began, and inwardly groaned again when the young mouse stared up at him with innocent eyes, "will be happy to know that this will be reported to your father."

"Aw, shucks." The Prince laughed. "I'm sure he'll get a great laugh out of it." Horace fought the urge to slap himself on the face, but the Prince was most likely right. He decided to ignore the comment altogether and move on to get what they had come for in the first place over with. "Sire, this is the boy who will serve as your valet from this day on," he said as he pushed the duckling forward. "Donald, this is Prince Michael, whom you will be serving."

The Prince stared. Donald glared. Horace sighed inwardly with exasperation and asked the imaginary King in his head why he ever thought it'll be a great idea to let the two boys meet each other. At all.

Horace tightened his grip on the duckling's shoulder, and was rewarded with one of Donald's famous glares. The adviser only returned it with a stern look.

"Fine," the young duck growled and marched forward to the Prince, who was looking at them with a bored expression. Donald took one curt bow. "My name is Donald Duck, and I'll be happy to serve under you, Your Highness."

Horace sighed inwardly (yet again). He was glad that this was dealt with, and now he could finally go change out of these wet garments. But as he turned, he missed seeing the Prince's eyes widen with comprehension and Donald's smirk at the invisible jab he had given the Prince. The Prince narrowed his eyes at the young duck, and the duckling glared back.

Indeed, behind his back, there fueled the beginnings of a war.

To be continued…

I had fun with Horace. He's a really interesting character to write, especially in this setting. And yes, it is my headcanon that Horace raised Donald. I will delve more deeply into their relationship later in the story as well.

It looks like the Prince and Donald didn't get off to a very good start. :/

Until next time!

~ruth~