06-10-2015, 12:06 PM
Later that night, Mickey snuggled into Berthe’s large bed. It seemed too large even for her, but the King supposed that she had, at one point, been married. Certainly it must have been a heck of a man to be able to keep Berthe tied down.
Of course, he couldn’t sleep. It was the first time he had tried since leaving Dante’s Abyss, and the threat of nightmares kept him awake.
He slid off the large bed. Scurrying over to where he had shed his every day clothes when changing into his PJ’s, he reached into the pocket to grab the little photograph of his wife, which never failed to make him feel better. As he fumbled around for it, though, his four-fingered hand closed around something else.
The earrings!
He’d almost forgotten about them in his rush to get back to Bree and tie up his loose ends. Pulling them out along with the picture, he cradled the little yellow orbs in his hands for a second, idly wondering what the heck they were supposed to do.
He reached up and hooked them on to his ears—thankfully they weren’t puncture earrings, just clip-ons—and waited. Disappointment awaited him, for nothing happened. He wondered why Karl Jak would present the finalists of this competition with a bunch of artefacts that just didn’t do anything. There’d been that creepy book, the girly-looking crown, the boots, a watch, and a bunch of other little things that really just seemed more like trinkets than anything else.
Part of the mouse was tempted to sell it. Get something worthwhile out of this competition, and spite Karl Jak at the same time. But something told him not to. Despite all the pain he had been through in the competition, he still felt a great need to keep a souvenir. Perhaps to remind himself of everything he’d been through—to remind himself that it had all been for practically nothing.
His lips curling into a frown, he stuffed the earrings back in his pocket and returned to Berthe’s large bed, photograph in hand. Maybe his lady love would like the earrings whenever he got back home.
He clutched the picture of his dear Minnie. For a while, she had been the only one able to make him happy—even Donald and Goofy, at first, had just been his partners. His fellow musketeers. Slowly but surely, they had become his two closest confidants, and his best friends, but Minnie—from the moment he met her, he had been connected to her. Their fates were… well, they were intertwined forever.
Nothing had ever hit him like that spark, the first time he had seen her. And she had been ripped away from him, just like that. Yes, he had gone off on his own—begun traveling, searching for the origin of the Heartless threat, but he had always intended to return. If he had known that taking off in the gummi ship that day would mean never seeing her again, he never would have done it. He would have stayed right there, by her side, happy on his throne, and waited for the Heartless to come to them.
No, he sighed, no, you wouldn’t have. That, he knew, was the truth. He loved her so, so much, but during his time as King he had grown to love his people with the same fervor. He would have given anything if it meant he could protect them from the sinister threat that had started encroaching on his borders. And it seemed he had, but it had all been for nothing.
That was what he got for being so goshdarn noble.
Down the hallway, he heard a crashing noise. It sounded like it came from Robbie’s room, so the mouse assumed that the boy might simply be having a tantrum—sick children did that, from what he understood—but even though he knew Berthe could handle it, he still felt like he should go check on them. The King slipped out of bed, putting on some bedroom slippers and beginning the trek down the hallway. Once he had left Berthe’s bedroom, however, he noticed something troubling. A strange, blue light flickered through the crack beneath Robbie’s door. Suddenly, the mouse felt an urgent need to get there, and sprinted, pushing the door open.
Streaks of blue lightning danced across the room. They bounced from wall to wall, the boards bursting into embers with a single touch. At the center of them all, Robbie stood backed against his own wall, thoroughly terrified. Berthe sat in the opposite corner, shielding herself from the bolts that got too close. Mickey’s black pupils widened.
“Golly.”
Of course, he couldn’t sleep. It was the first time he had tried since leaving Dante’s Abyss, and the threat of nightmares kept him awake.
He slid off the large bed. Scurrying over to where he had shed his every day clothes when changing into his PJ’s, he reached into the pocket to grab the little photograph of his wife, which never failed to make him feel better. As he fumbled around for it, though, his four-fingered hand closed around something else.
The earrings!
He’d almost forgotten about them in his rush to get back to Bree and tie up his loose ends. Pulling them out along with the picture, he cradled the little yellow orbs in his hands for a second, idly wondering what the heck they were supposed to do.
He reached up and hooked them on to his ears—thankfully they weren’t puncture earrings, just clip-ons—and waited. Disappointment awaited him, for nothing happened. He wondered why Karl Jak would present the finalists of this competition with a bunch of artefacts that just didn’t do anything. There’d been that creepy book, the girly-looking crown, the boots, a watch, and a bunch of other little things that really just seemed more like trinkets than anything else.
Part of the mouse was tempted to sell it. Get something worthwhile out of this competition, and spite Karl Jak at the same time. But something told him not to. Despite all the pain he had been through in the competition, he still felt a great need to keep a souvenir. Perhaps to remind himself of everything he’d been through—to remind himself that it had all been for practically nothing.
His lips curling into a frown, he stuffed the earrings back in his pocket and returned to Berthe’s large bed, photograph in hand. Maybe his lady love would like the earrings whenever he got back home.
He clutched the picture of his dear Minnie. For a while, she had been the only one able to make him happy—even Donald and Goofy, at first, had just been his partners. His fellow musketeers. Slowly but surely, they had become his two closest confidants, and his best friends, but Minnie—from the moment he met her, he had been connected to her. Their fates were… well, they were intertwined forever.
Nothing had ever hit him like that spark, the first time he had seen her. And she had been ripped away from him, just like that. Yes, he had gone off on his own—begun traveling, searching for the origin of the Heartless threat, but he had always intended to return. If he had known that taking off in the gummi ship that day would mean never seeing her again, he never would have done it. He would have stayed right there, by her side, happy on his throne, and waited for the Heartless to come to them.
No, he sighed, no, you wouldn’t have. That, he knew, was the truth. He loved her so, so much, but during his time as King he had grown to love his people with the same fervor. He would have given anything if it meant he could protect them from the sinister threat that had started encroaching on his borders. And it seemed he had, but it had all been for nothing.
That was what he got for being so goshdarn noble.
Down the hallway, he heard a crashing noise. It sounded like it came from Robbie’s room, so the mouse assumed that the boy might simply be having a tantrum—sick children did that, from what he understood—but even though he knew Berthe could handle it, he still felt like he should go check on them. The King slipped out of bed, putting on some bedroom slippers and beginning the trek down the hallway. Once he had left Berthe’s bedroom, however, he noticed something troubling. A strange, blue light flickered through the crack beneath Robbie’s door. Suddenly, the mouse felt an urgent need to get there, and sprinted, pushing the door open.
Streaks of blue lightning danced across the room. They bounced from wall to wall, the boards bursting into embers with a single touch. At the center of them all, Robbie stood backed against his own wall, thoroughly terrified. Berthe sat in the opposite corner, shielding herself from the bolts that got too close. Mickey’s black pupils widened.
“Golly.”
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)