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starryserenade · 10 months

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Myth and Magic Ch. 17: Echoes

Fic Description: When Tir Na nÓg--the fabled land of the fae--falls to a dark power, the destinies of two young mice are set in motion. As each struggle to make their way in an ever-darkening world, they must learn to trust one another, or risk forever losing that which they hold most dear.

Chapter Description: The mice find themselves in Tir na Nog through no choice of their own. As new perspectives are uncovered and new magic explored, new tensions start to flare as well.

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Prologue

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter: Coming Soon

She was furious, more than he’d ever known her to be. He could feel it before he even entered the palace, its rotting wood and withered leaves darker than they’d been when he’d left. There was an aura of darkness that surrounded the ballroom, and an overwhelming pressure as if some great power was about to snap.

He tread lightly, but proudly, his head held high as he strolled towards the throne room, knowing full well who’d be waiting for him there. He’d had about enough of that witch and her temper, and all those promises that never seemed to be fulfilled. Perhaps he’d finally tell her off this time, finally demand she keep her promise…

The doors swung open at his touch, and he found more than one figure standing before him. Magica was there in the shadowy form she so often donned, and the wicked look on her face smothered all his courage. Beside her, two Sidhe held a sopping wet Mortimer who spat and cursed at them to no avail. Oswald would have laughed at that, under normal circumstances, but he had a nagging feeling that now was not the time.

Magica grinned through the shadow of her wispy facade, a horrible smile that worsened the silent fury blazing behind her eyes. But Oswald pretended he didn’t notice, only approached as usual and cast an unimpressed glance at the half-drowned rat before him, before looking back to her.

The witch laughed and looked sharply at Mortimer. “Look who’s arrived! Care to tell him about your recent endeavor?”

Mortimer scowled, and Oswald nearly chuckled, realizing Magica’s rage was fully directed in the mortal king’s direction. He’d done something incredibly stupid, no doubt, which really came as no surprise. The only thing that was surprising was how long it took Magica to notice his ineptitude. Oh well, better late than never.

“What happened?” This was petty, and Oswald knew it, but he couldn’t resist. “Go for a swim?”

The loathing in Mortimer’s eyes was incomparable, and hilarious, as the rat grumbled some words Oswald couldn’t understand.

“Our precious king here,” Magica seethed, still through that horrifying grin, “let our princess get away again. Not once, but twice. ”

Mortimer wrenched his wrists away from the Sidhe. “I would’ve had them,” he spat in Magica’s direction. “If your little monsters hadn’t gotten in my way!”

At once, the shadow encompassing Magica’s form flared and dispersed into a lofty stormcloud of smoke, looming over Mortimer who cowered almost immediately. “You WASTED the most powerful spell I’d granted you for sheer PRIDE!” She screeched, her voice like no creature Oswald had ever heard. “That gem in that crown held ONE spell,” The cloud was sporadic, shifting and flashing madly. “ONE! And you used it to defy ME.”

It finally settled back into her form as she composed herself, though the storm remained flashing within. “And now my best Sidhe has vanished.” Her voice had grown darker, more deadly. “But still you claim ignorance.” With a final furious whirl, she whipped around to face him. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t strip you of every ounce of power here and now.”

Mortimer turned a ghostly white and swallowed. “You need me.”

She laughed again, and the sound sent chills up Oswald’s spine. “I hardly need two of you.”

Oswald drew in a sharp breath as Magica approached him, her misty hand tracing his chin as he stared straight ahead. The feeling was ice cold, like death itself had just touched him. “I’ve got a loyal soldier right here. Isn’t that right?”

He didn’t like this one bit, not at all. But he nodded stiffly, though his fur rose on end. “Y-yes, Your Majesty.”

“That’s what I th-”

“TH-THE FAERIE PRINCE IS ALIVE!” Mortimer burst out at once, and all the strength left Oswald’s bones. Magica was still just beside him, but she froze, and slowly turned her head.

“What…did you…say…”

Mortimer stared at Oswald, a subtle smirk lighting his face as the rabbit’s eyes widened. He shook his head faintly, and his nose twitched. How did Mortimer know? The glamour over Mickey should have been foolproof–Oswald’s own magic (well, borrowed magic) kept it alive, kept the mouse hidden and unrecognizable from everyone , even other fae. Unless..? His fingertips brushed against the orb in his cloak, and he reached out with his mind, tried to sense the magic he’d been lending. But he couldn’t. It was gone, as if something had severed the connection. Shoot! He’d gotten complacent, lazy even, and he’d missed that somehow. It meant only one thing–that Mickey was out there, wings and all clear as day. There was no arguing this, or hiding him further if Mortimer continued. Magica would know. She always knew. Don’t ! Oswald commanded silently, with nothing but a desperate glare shot Mortimer’s way. But there was no stopping him now. If there was one thing you couldn’t do with that rat, it was trust him. This would serve him quite well, so he was bound to take advantage of it. Oswald’s foot thumped tapped lightly against the earth, a nervous habit he’d never really been able to break.

“That’s right,” he continued, the smirk on his face widening. It was nice enough that this little tidbit might be enough to save his life, but that it would ruin Oswald’s standing with the queen? Even better. “The other prince. The one Oswald swore he got rid of? He’s not gone at all. Remember that little mouse who’s been running around with the princess? Saw it myself. Sprouted wings right in front of me. Big ones. Royal ones. Didn’t seem to understand it either…which means someone else had cast a glamour on him. Take a guess who that was.”

Magica’s eyes had fallen back to Oswald, and they were blazing furiously, even more than they had when she’d first accused Mortimer. He took a step back and swallowed. The smell of rotting wood flooded his nostrils, as if the tree itself was bent on reminding him who was responsible for all this. But it wasn’t him, he argued furiously in his mind. It wasn’t his fault. Even so, his eyes fell to the throne where this had started. Really started. And he saw himself there below it, looking up at a king who refused to listen.

“Mac Lir’s kelpies…they took her! You have to help, please!”

“Nonsense m’boy,” The royal had taken another sip of wine. “There are no tragedies here.”

“You’re wrong!” Oswald had hissed, and he’d balled up his fists and broken free from the grip of the guards. “You’re wrong, and mother would have known better.”

And the king’s eyes, all clouded with falsities, had cleared for a moment. Just a moment. And Oswald took it to plead his case.

“You told me once, it was the dragons’ fault she’s gone. That they’d tricked you. Please… please don’t let them take ‘Tensie from me too. You can stop this. Make them give her back to me! Just talk to them, there has to be a reason they’re doing this!”

There were legends that a dragon’s magic could blur the lines between life and death, guide lost souls back to the waking world. If they hurried, there might still be time to convince them. He could save her. He could bring her back.

The king was silent. For the first time in ages, there was no lofty smile upon his lips. It looked as though he might have responded thoughtfully, if he’d had even a moment more of clarity. But then the cloudy look in his eyes returned, and he chuckled loudly. “The dragons have long since been banished, and they can do us no harm. Forget about your silly mortal, child! Eat, drink, and be merry as the rest of us are!”

Something had snapped in Oswald then. There’d been a fiery thread of goodness in him that had outlasted that of his peers, something kept alive by love, and by hope. It flickered out in that moment. Or quite nearly, at least, if there was even an ember of faith left there. In the dark chasm that remained, a seed of hatred and distrust took root.

He’d stormed out of the throne room, feathers flying around him in a dark whirlwind. There were other ways of getting help. Deep threads of magic no one had dared touch in centuries. If his own father wouldn’t listen, he’d find his own way of doing things. He blinked, and found himself back in the present, Magica’s venomous glare closer than it had been before.

“We had a deal… ” she hissed, a quivering whisper that thrummed against his ears.

How could he have known back then, what she would have demanded of him? He had no qualms with standing up to those dragons, and his magic had been a sacrifice he was willing to make. But that the little child he’d protected for so long would be the one he’d be asked to dispose of? Of course he hadn’t. He couldn’t. His rage had blinded him but even then, his love for his brother was something he hadn’t been able to overcome. So he’d found a way around it. Erased him from existence as much as anyone would ever know and, so he’d thought, simply given him a new lease on life.

Stupid. He’d been stupid. Ignorant and selfish, as much as his father had been. And he wondered now, if he was beginning to understand how one could fall so deep without ever being the wiser.

Magica’s smoke slithered around him. “I should have known you’d lied.”

Abruptly, the mist swept through him and he drew in a sharp breath, shuddering as the intense chill encompassed his body. Those glowing eyes narrowed, and then she darted to Mortimer and gave him the same icy stare. By the time she’d come center, both of them were shivering breathlessly, faces pale with fear.

“You’re both useless, ” she spat. “An idiot and a traitor, that’s all I have to work with.” Her gaze swiveled back to Oswald. “You can forget about your precious sweetheart. Let her rot in Dubnos, for all I care.”

The fear turned to anger and Oswald rushed forward, pulling a sword from its sheath and slashing it through the apparition. It didn’t hurt her–he knew it wouldn’t–but he was filled with a fury beyond all reason and as the mist separated and reformed, Magica’s eyes blazing with shock and indignance, he stood there poised to fight her with whatever he had.

“I did plenty to earn her back!” he growled through bared teeth. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked for for nearly a decade!”

“NOT. EVERYTHING.” Magica approached him again in a flurry of mist and shadow. “ Everything hinges on the fate of those two little mice. The egg’s power is almost gone but for as long as they’re alive, all that we’ve worked for is at risk!”

“He’s my brother, ” Oswald hissed. “He doesn’t even know what he is. He’s no threat.”

“HA!” Magica laughed, and Oswald clenched his fists. “You have no idea who and what I’ve sacrificed to get here. It’s the price you pay for power, dear. You should have known that from the start.”

“I never wanted power-!”

“You wanted your lover back! Guess what that takes?”

Oswald swallowed and looked away.

Magica’s demeanor softened, not in any semblance of comfort or kindness. But that air of manipulation, of selfish ambition, flooded back into her countenance.

“Ah, poor dear…Didn’t quite understand what the price would be, did you? Well…” He shuddered as she slithered around him again, her whispered promises like frost on his ears. “I might be persuaded to give you another chance…unless, of course, you’ve given up on rescuing your little sweetheart…”

A thread of mist snaked around his forehead and without any warning, he found a jumble of memories flooding back into his mind. Memories that had become faded enough to dull the pain of loss, but now returned as strong as if they’d happened yesterday. How could he refuse a chance to bring back those moments, when he remembered every small touch, every glimmer of laughter as clear as day?

“No…” he half-choked through the pressure in his chest. “No, I…of course I haven’t…”

“Then tell me everything you’ve done, and all you know,” Magica whispered through a too-wide grin, and glanced back at Mortimer too, who no longer seemed quite so satisfied with his means of deflection. “Perhaps there’s time to salvage both your efforts yet.”

~~~~

“Min…”

Mickey wasn’t even looking at her when he uttered her name, a cracked sort of whimper. His hand hovered just an inch or so from his neck, like he’d been about to pull it free, but there was nothing there. The look on his face was sheer pain at first, and when his eyes finally found her, her heart nearly broke. She knew then he’d seen it too. Or…or more than seen it, maybe, because he was panting for air like he’d been robbed of it just moments prior.

“Oh…oh, Mickey…” She forgot her own guilt and rushed to check all over his chest and his back for those horrible wounds, and to hold his face in her hands when she found only traces of them. All those tiny scars she’d noticed before, scrawled across his skin and shimmering through his fur, they seemed clear as day now. Remnants of that awful net.

Mickey hardly responded to her touch at first. He was still in a daze, still trying to pinpoint what exactly was reality. Was that…was that a memory? It was so strange, being able to recall himself in a time before that day where he’d woken up all alone. Stranger still, was that…he felt it all. Not just the wounds that sent tremors rippling through his body, but…but…

He heard Minnie’s voice, faintly piercing through the fog, and looked at her. Echoes of pain still shot through his nerves, but her touch made them all meaningless. And he remembered then, as he sunk into her hand, what he’d felt in that moment that must have been so long ago.

There was more sadness there than fear, at first. He’d been meaning to do something–he still couldn’t recall what. But it was important. Important to him at least. Something had happened and he just wanted to help. The sound of the river had filled his ears and he supposed he’d gotten careless, thinking about…about someone, because before he knew it his wings had brushed against something unnatural, seized up at their touch, and his whole body had been snapped into a net of sorts that burned him no matter which way he moved.

He’d struggled as much as he could, but nothing had ever drained him of strength so swiftly as this. With some desperate squirming, he’d managed to pry open a bit of the net and shove his arm through, ripping through some of the rope. Some of it gave way and he thought he was free, but then his ankle had caught and thrown off his balance and in trying to catch himself, his left arm had shot through the now-dangling part of the net and got him more twisted than before. Now his right wing kept him suspended, never having made it through the gap, and a fraying bit of iron-thread rope hung dangerously close to his neck. He hadn’t noticed that, either, and so tried one last time to free himself by thrashing wildly, desperately in the trap’s hold. That was a mistake. Some upper threads snapped so that what still lay connected to the tree acted as a sort of cinch, and pulled the net so tight around him that he let out one final gasp of pain and found he could no longer breathe. His chest was wrapped too tight and his throat was bound, slowly being pierced by that stray thread. Some small creatures–his mind was too hazy now to see them clearly–had tried to free him at some point, but to no avail. They seemed just as helpless to the rope’s venomous powers as he had been.

His vision had started to slip and then he’d heard her, voice riddled with a heartache and desperation that made a sense of duty flood his bones all over again, even if he could do nothing with it.

“Geal!” It sounded like she’d been crying. “Geal, please, I…I need you!”

He knew that name. How did he know that name? And why did he try to respond to it, almost instinctively, when it reached his ears? Of course, that hadn’t worked. No sound escaped him when he opened his mouth, save for a pained sort of wheezing.

But it didn’t matter anyways, because then she was there. Minnie. Both the Mickey of the past and the Mickey of the present, consciousness strangely split between the two, marveled at her despite their pain. She entered through a gap in the brush, bathed in a patch of moonlight that shone through from above. His vision was blurred and his strength nearly gone, but still he lifted his head to see her. Even with her face all streaked by tears, she was lovely. Angelic, even.

He thought to apologize, as his vision started to fade, for not being able to do whatever it was he’d been trying to do, because he was certain now it had been for her. It had to be.

She gasped lightly at the sight of him and then pulled something from her side, a jeweled blade, and narrowed her eyes. He hung his head, unable to hold it up any longer. Thoughts themselves were quickly fading, but the essence of them remained. He knew only he wasn’t afraid. Not of her nor of the dagger she held. His body shuddered. He felt cold metal pressed against his wing, and then a wonderful sense of relief as the ropes gave way.

Back on the riverbank, nuzzled against Minnie’s hand, he smiled inexplicably. Minnie seemed as worried as ever, and pressed in close.

“Mickey?”

He grinned and echoed her cradled hands with his own to her cheeks. His eyes shone brightly as they stared back at her, unphased by pain, invigorated by the revelation flowing through his mind. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant first memory to recover, and yet to him it was the most wonderful of all, because it meant one thing.

“I knew you,” he whispered and let out an almost frenzied sort of laugh before leaping up, and half-twirling around the riverbank. His wings moved along with his excitement, carrying him a few inches off the grand in little flutters of joy. Fireflies, or some fae equivalent, fluttered about his heels. “I…I knew ya, and I…I wasn’t scared or nothin’. And Min!” He made his way back to her and drew her to her feet, taking her hands in his fingers and giving them a flurry of playful little kisses while she stood there, trying to decide whether she should be giddy or overwhelmed. What resulted was something between the two, with a shaky sort of smile gracing her lips as she held his gaze. “Min, you saved me.”

The smile faltered then. “Wh-what?” she breathed. “Oh, Mickey…I…that’s not what I…well…did I..?”

Noticing her uncertainty, he let the excitement soften into something more gentle, and took her in close. Gosh, was she pretty, the way she looked up at him with those deep, curious eyes. He’d been so caught up in his own self-loathing that he’d nearly forgotten the feeling, like he wanted to laugh and cry all at once. But if he knew her all that time ago…if he’d cared about her even then, and if she’d saved his life so willingly, then her visions had to be wrong. At least, as far as he figured. Maybe he was wrong, but even the possibility of the former was all he needed to spark a bit of life back into his heart.

Though he didn’t know it, the light in his wings grew a bit brighter.

“Don’t ya see?” Mickey breathed, and he drew a hand across her cheek. Strangely, her whole countenance brightened, too, and she flushed a brilliant shade of crimson. “You cut me outta that net, Minnie. If y’cared enough to save me then, and if I…well, if I felt what I think I felt…then we can’t have been enemies.”

Her eyes widened a bit and then darted off to the side like she was thinking it through. “Oh, Mickey…do you think…but then how..?” She drew back and scanned his face, lips pursed in deep concentration.

Though they’d seen the same thing, she’d not felt this memory in the same way he had. But … it was his memory, not hers, and whatever doubts she might have had over his words were utterly destroyed by the sheer joy painted across his whole face, undeniably honest and pure. It melted her heart, the way he looked at her now, even after his eyes had been flooded with pain only moments ago.

I knew you.

That felt true to her, too, and right beyond all else. She’d been so scared of the future that she’d neglected her past, shutting it out for fear it might tarnish whatever possibilities they might have together. So scared he wouldn’t fit the puzzle in the way she’d hoped he might. Now she wondered if he really was the very piece she’d been looking for all along. All that time spent alone in those icy depths, pining for someone to warm her heart back to life…he’d done that, hadn’t he? She’d been looking for familiarity and thought it lacking, but she felt it now, something deeper than she could have ever seen on the surface. This new spark in his eyes felt like home. It felt like hope.

I know you, too.

Minnie thought it, but didn’t say it out loud – still felt like that was something that should be saved for a moment when she could explain just how and why.

She became acutely aware of the bell in her pocket, somehow still there despite her change in dress. It prickled with a strange energy, and she thought back to the rabbit who’d given it to her. He had answers, or so he claimed. Falsehoods or otherwise, she felt at once that Mickey should know.

Fumbling with the right words to say, Minnie parted her lips to try to explain what had happened in the time they’d been apart. Then a branch snapped behind them, and both mice jumped, blushing a bit guiltily because each really had pressed quite close to the other. They parted now, relinquishing their touch just enough to seem decent, though Mickey never truly let her go. He kept a hand to her all the while but made his way in front of her to face the noise and took a stance like he was ready to fight a giant should it emerge from the trees.

It was not a giant, not by any means, and Minnie snorted, holding back a flurry of giggles as the figure in question emerged from the foliage. Mickey let out a sigh of relief, a breath he’d been holding, and smiled as he knelt to the ground.

“Max, buddy,” he chuckled softly at the little boy who stood yawning in front of them, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “What are ya doin’ awake, pal?”

“Caaaan’t…” he smacked his lips together and yawned. “Can’t…sleeeep…”

The two mice exchanged an amused glance. These were the machinations of a curious child who didn’t want to sleep. Though neither of them could really blame him, because here they were at heaven-knew-what hour chatting away. Seemed like a poor example to send him back to bed in that regard.

“New world, hm?” Minnie whispered, coming up beside Mickey. There was a playful, friendly lilt to her voice, and Max grinned as she spoke. “It’s terribly exciting, isn’t it? Just makes you want to stay up all night long I bet.”

Max’s eyes brightened and he nodded, those two little front teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “Papa says we’re in a alter-rit dime-nention!” Minnie laughed softly at that and held out her hands for him to grab onto.

“Well, here,” she giggled, taking him by the hand and guiding him to where they’d been sitting before. The willow hung above them and the child scrambled over its roots, slipping all over the moss and grass as he came to sit beside Minnie, his little feet dangling out over the river. Mickey had followed them over and sat on his other side, making sure Max was tucked snuggly between the two of them. “Mickey can’t seem to sleep either…” Minnie continued, and a look of playful indignance crossed Mickey’s face. He flicked her gently with his tail, but she caught it with her own and left him blushing like a fool when she’d tangled them up together behind their backs. “...so I was just about to tell him a story.”

“Ohhh, were ya?” Mickey chuckled, a light little smirk across his face.

“A story!” Max exclaimed. “What kinda story?”

“Yea, what kinda story, raindrop?”

“Well, a fairytale, o’course,” Minnie answered in a gentle hush of a whisper. “Now, do you boys want to hear it or..?”

Max was loudly hushing Mickey before she’d even finished the sentence, which only made it harder for the mouse to quiet his laughter. When Minnie shot him a glance, her lips turned up in a humorous grin, but stern nonetheless, he finally drew in a few breaths and shook his head.

“‘Course! ‘Course…” he nodded, placing his hands in his lap, a too-serious look plastered across his face. His eyes still twinkled with humor.

Minnie kept a wary eye on him, anyway.

“There was once upon a time, long ago…”

And Mickey was snickering all over again.

“All right, then,” Minnie huffed, raising an eyebrow as she glanced his way. Max mirrored the face she gave him. “Mickey, you tell the story.”

He stopped snickering, and the look he gave her made her realize at once that she’d made a mistake. “Gosh, me?” he smirked, and ruffled his feathers behind him. “Well, if I have to.”

“Now, hold on-!”

“ There was, once upon a time not-so long ago,” he began in a voice that echoed her own introduction, that smirk still hovering on his lips. “A beauuuuutiful princess. The most beautiful princess y’ever did saw. In fact, she was so pretty that everyone who saw her couldn’t help but look ‘er way. An’ her name was Min-”

Minnie jerked her tail, which jerked Mickey, who yelped and drew it back into his hands, rubbing it tenderly. “Hey!”

Max groaned miserably and fell backwards into the grass. “Your stories are awful .”

“Mickey Mouse, I’m thrilled you’ve gotten your smile back, but if you can’t take this seriously then you can march yourself right back to camp!”

“I was here first! ”

Minnie wrinkled her nose and stared at him, and he did the same in playful mockery. But then the fierceness of her scowl won him over and he gave in, rolling his eyes with an exasperated sigh. “All right, fine!” he sulked. “How about we share? ”

She thought that over for a few moments, pursing her lips as she glared at him, wondering how he might plan to sabotage this (and really, there were a good many ways he could). Then Max threw up his hands and let out a puff of frustration. “I. want. a. story!’

Minnie sighed, and Mickey grinned.

“All right…” she groaned. “You can start it out. But no shenanigans this time.”

Mickey rolled his eyes but nodded briskly. “If y’say so.” Then he cleared his throat.

“There was, once upon a time long ago, a really (really) pretty princess...” he started, and though Minnie watched him closely, she didn’t object. “...that lived in a…in a castle on a beautiful lake. Her name was…er…”

“ Sulis ,” Minnie finished for him, offering up a name from another story she'd once heard told. Mickey's eyes darted over to her. He’d calmed himself more now, and his tail had found hers again, so they wrapped around each other in a tiny thread of comfort. Max was starting to settle in for a listen, and had drawn himself up to sit so he could watch them weave their tale. Minnie hesitated, unsure if she wanted to continue with the words in her head. Mickey would know, of course, the half-truth to the tale, and even now he’d already set it up for her. With a breath, she carried on.

“ ...and she was due to take the throne. Due to be wed to her true love, and become queen.” She saw Mickey’s eyes widen, and watched him carefully. He didn't know everything about her story. “ But on the day of the wedding, her love was lost, and she was cursed…cursed to forget his face and his name, and all she’d grown to love him for. And so for many years she waited, until one day she disappeared, and her kingdom fell to ruin.”

She swallowed and nodded Mickey’s way. Max was already growing drowsy again, leaning up against her and blinking with heavy eyelids. Not much longer, and he’d be asleep.

Mickey tapped his fingers against the grass for a second before moving on, voice quieter than before.. “ ...some…well, some people thought she was gone for good. But others said she’d been taken up by the faeries and turned into somethin’ new.”

Max was hardly paying any attention now, so Minnie whispered a humored question Mickey’s way. “Turned into what, exactly?”

He grinned at her, and that sly smile returned. “A…a…a fish, ” he decided at last, and snorted when she laughed. Max stirred, but only slightly. “ But she was the most beautiful fish in allllll the world.”

“Ah, here we go again.”

“And one day, a sad, ol’ fisherman set out t’catch her, on account of her beautiful scales and all.”

“Did he?”

“Not even. Made a whole fool of himself and she had to turn back into a princess just so she could catch him instead. And when she’d rescued him and brought him back to shore…well…”

“...Well..?”

Max had finally fallen asleep, and Mickey drew a wing over him as he leaned against his arm. He tried not to move too much as he spoke.

“Well, I…I dunno,” Mickey chuckled and his cheeks flushed pink. “Haven’t quite figured that out just yet.”

“If you could make up any ending, what would it be?”

Now Mickey was a deep shade of crimson and if Max hadn’t been tucked so comfortably underneath his wing, he would have squirmed nervously under Minnie’s softening gaze.

“I…I s’pose…I’d have the princess find her prince again.” He seemed a little sad when he said that, like he’d just admitted something to himself without realizing he was doing it. But then Minnie reached across to him and set her fingers to his hand.

“What if the fisherman was the prince?” she asked sweetly. “And he just doesn’t know it yet?”

Mickey’s lips parted to respond, but no sound escaped them at first. Then he stammered what he’d consider a pathetic sort of question. “I-is that what you think would happen?”

She scanned him again with those kind, searching eyes, and a soft smile lingering on her lips. Then she let out a delicate laugh, and rose to her feet. “Oh, I suppose only time would tell, either way.” And though Mickey wanted to press her further, he managed to keep from bursting out into a million little questions as he gathered Max back up into his arms and followed Minnie back to camp.

#I felt really good about writing this one #until I didn't lol #but maybe it's just the fatigue talking haha #I should be asleep #byeee #storiescomealive #myth and magic #myth & magic #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #mickey x minnie

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