Story [Disney] Tales as Old as Time (UDC7) Week Eighteen: The Emperor's New Groove

Nyota: Thanks! I love that about the movie

Mira: Thanks! Yeah, it's actually quite sad!


I've loved Peter Pan since I was very little. And even though Peter seems a little more frustrating or selfish as I grow up, I still love this movie and Wendy Darling.


Week Eleven: Peter Pan

Fun

Wendy Darling thought it was all a bunch of fun to tell her little brothers bedtime stories about the dashing Peter Pan fighting the villainous pirates in Neverland. And why not? They were just harmless stories, even if John and Michael did make a bit of a mess playing at being the Lost Boys. Even Nana didn’t disapprove.

Which is why it cut her to the quick when her father commanded her to end the stories—and even more when he decided it was time for her to leave the nursery and grow up. She didn’t want to grow up!


Play

Wendy closed her eyes and let her imagination fly free—and soon felt herself lifting up off the ground, hearing her brothers’ exclamations of surprise and Peter’s laughter. She opened her eyes and looked down at the ground—much farther than she usually had to look!

Wendy thought there was no reason not to play along—and the alternative was to stay here and grow up—so she followed the boys out the nursery window and high above the streets of London.

“The second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning!” Peter directed, and Wendy followed him eagerly.


Laugh

For all the laughter in the nursery, Wendy wasn’t laughing now.

Peter certainly was. And so had those mermaids, when they’d splashed her. And that horrid woman—she hadn’t been laughing when she’d ordered Wendy to leave the celebration—leave Peter and her brothers and that prissy Princess Tiger Lily—and fetch the firewood.

Neverland wasn’t what Wendy had expected.

Peter was still laughing—always laughing, even when his life was in danger. He wasn’t what Wendy had thought, either, and though she was having trouble reconciling her adventurer to the spoiled boy, she knew she wanted to go home.


Games

Peter Pan liked to play games. So did Captain Hook.

Wendy, however, did not. And she was coming to realize that Peter could laugh away his troubles because he thought everything was a game. But Neverland wasn’t a game to her.

She looked back at her brothers sadly. She refused to play along and was going to pay the price. But if it was what she had to do to save her brothers, so be it.

Wendy tilted her chin up and took the last step off the plank.

But instead of plunging into water, she felt arms around her.


Vacation

It had been like a dream, Neverland. A vacation from reality. Peter had again offered Wendy and her brothers the opportunity to stay, but it was time to go home.

Back in the nursery, she tucked her brothers into their beds. But instead of climbing into her own, she waited by the window, watching the Jolly Roger fade into the night sky. She was still there when her parents returned.

Wendy Darling didn’t stop telling stories about Peter Pan and Neverland, but now she knew how real those stories were. Even when she grew up, she never forgot Peter Pan.

 

Wonderful! What a blend of innocence and feeling the pull to stay young but also see things as they are and grow up. Sounds like, though, Wendy was able to retain some of the sweet, wide-eyedness of childhood.

 

Nyota: I like to think she did! After all, she still told stories about Peter Pan to her children

Mira: I adore Wendy Darling. I know the movie is called Peter Pan, but I honestly think it's more Wendy's story than his. I think she's forgotten too often because she's not a princes, but she really is an amazing character, and one I identify with. I'm glad you liked them!

Rainbow Knight Star

And for the next set--down the rabbit hole we go!

Week Twelve: Alice in Wonderland

See

Alice saw a flash of white, but it snapped her thoughts away from her sister’s boring tales of William the Conqueror.

It was a rabbit in a waistcoat, of all things, and clutching a pocket watch. Alice was enthralled. This was like nothing she had ever seen before—and it was certainly so much more than her everyday life that she wondered for a moment if she was just seeing things. But she blinked and the rabbit was still there.

A flash of white, but that was all it took, and Alice was falling down a rabbit hole—into Wonderland.


Hear

“I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date!”

Alice had never heard a rabbit speak before—but she shouldn’t be surprised really; what else would a white rabbit wearing a waistcoat and clutching a pocket watch do?

Alice did the only thing she could do—she gave chase, and before she knew it, she was falling.

Alice cried out with fear, but after her body righted itself—this was a much longer rabbit hole than she’d ever seen!—her skirt poofed up and caught her, gentling her fall.

When she landed, she called for the rabbit—to no avail.


Touch

Alice picked up the bottle. “Drink Me,” it read, and Alice did, for what else could she do?

It was a better idea than eating the cake, certainly; but after the doorknob finally got her down to the proper size, she squeezed through and tumbled into the oddest place she’d ever been.

Alice looked around, amazed by the bright colors and odd plants. This place—surely this place was Wonderland!

There was nothing to do except to set off, following the white rabbit. He was the one who had led her here, and Alice wanted to know why he had.


Sense

Wonderland was supposed to be wonderful—it was in the name and everything!—but Alice thought it wasn’t quite as wonderful as it sounded.

For all that she had followed her heart—and directions from the craziest bunch she’d ever met—her senses were telling her that nothing was as it seemed. And neither were any of the denizens of this strange realm.

And the Queen of Hearts—despite her name—seemed to have no heart at all.

That’s what’s wrong here, she thought as the guards carried her away. This court of hearts is lacking a queen with one.


Smell

Alice fled.

And the Queen of Hearts gave chase.

Alice ran as fast as she could, but the court was after her, and it was catching up. Alice only had one chance to escape—to trust, perhaps foolishly, one more creature.

She put her trust in the doorknob and opened her eyes.

She no longer smelled the cakes and flowers and incredible, heady perfume of Wonderland; all she smelled was grass. She looked around and found herself at home, right where she’d started.

She headed for the house, but she still wondered what exactly her white rabbit was late for.

 

I love Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. The March Hare and the Mad Hatter and the Cheshire Cat

 

Nyota: Thanks! I've actually never read them, though I have read a couple interesting spinoffs/versions. Have you seen Once Upon a Time in Wonderland?

Mira: Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed. And of course she is--after all, he's the reason she went down the rabbit hole

This next set is from Cinderella. I've never been a big fan of the movie, but as I was writing these, I enjoyed getting to known her as a character beyond the goody-two-shoes who gets saved by magic and swept off her feet by a nameless prince. And a comment someone made in the social thread about the movie really being about friendship (Cinderella and the mice, particularly) made me see it a different way, too.



Week Thirteen: Cinderella

Past

“Come here, my darling,” the lord cried, sweeping up his golden-haired child into his arms and laughing as she, delighted, screamed, “Papa!”

“I have a surprise for you, my sweet Ella,” he continued.

He carried her to the carriage, where a footman was helping a dark-haired lady and her two small daughters—just a couple years older than his darling—down. “Sweet, this is Lady Tremaine and her two daughters, Drizella and Anastasia.” The two girls curtsied politely and said, “How do you do?”

“Papa,” Ella asked, “who are they?”

“You need a mother. Lady Tremaine is my new wife.”


Present

Twelve years later, her back ached constantly, her hands were always chapped, and she often found new bruises on her knees without remembering how she got them. In the ten years since her father’s death, she hadn’t been called Ella once. Instead, she was Cinderella, a cruel nickname of Drizella’s—Ella who was always covered with cinders.

Well, and why wouldn’t she be, the way her stepmother always forced her to work? But she had made the name her own, refusing to let her stepsisters’ cruel taunts break her spirit.

Someday, somehow, she was determined to be free from them.


Future

It was hard to break the habit of waking up early, but it was so much easier to stay in bed when a soft mattress supported her body and her husband’s arms held her close. Even after a year of marriage, she thanked fate—and her fairy godmother—every day for this chance at a new life that made her so very happy.

Charming stirred, then kissed her forehead. “Awake as always, my love,” he greeted her sleepily.

Cinderella snuggled closer. “Don’t worry, darling, I have no intention of getting out of bed anytime soon.”

That woke him up quickly.


Memories

She barely remembered her father anymore. She remembered her excitement whenever she walked through the door and the way he would lift her up and swing her around. Most of all, she remembered his laugh.

But as always, memories of her father led to memories of his death and the ten years of torment that had followed at the hands of Lady Tremaine and her daughters. For all that she had forgiven Anastasia—the redhead seemed truly repentant, and she also seemed truly happy with her baker husband—she never forgot the way they made her feel for a decade.

Expectations

Cinderella was determined to move on. She never had to see Lady Tremaine or Drizella again—and Charming, though he had never pressed for details she was unwilling to give, made sure they stayed out of her life.

He’ll be a good father, she thought, rubbing the tiny bump of her belly as she stared out the palace window. Like my own.

And I’ll make sure my father lives on in the stories I tell my child.

Charming’s arms snaked around her from behind, and she leaned back against him.

So this is love, she thought. My husband and child.

 

Memories-bittersweet. But Future & Expectations: SQUEE!

 

Nyota: Thanks! I had fun with those

Mira: Thanks! I actually enjoyed writing these a lot more than I expected. I enjoyed giving her more than what we saw in the movie (both a past and a future).


Sleeping Beauty is one of my favorite Disney movies (even through Aurora is famous for being fairly useless). And Phillip is by far the most handsome princ (IMO, anyway )


Week Fourteen: Sleeping Beauty

Castle

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t keep a princess safe from an evil witch. No matter how high the castle walls, a little princess was vulnerable. Even with good fairies to guard and guide her, King Stefan hadn’t been able to keep his daughter safe from Maleficent.

Aurora might have been to the castle born, but she couldn’t stay. Stefan comforted his wife as they watched Flora, Fauna, and Merriweather spirit their tiny daughter away in the dead of night.

We tried to have this child for so many years, Stefan thought miserably. Now she’s gone


House

In a little house in the forest lived Briar Rose and her three aunts. It was in this cottage that the young child grew into a young woman of true beauty, with hair to rival the sun and lips to shame the red, red rose, just as her fairy godmothers had promised.

Most importantly, she was safe as she grew into adulthood, protected and hidden from evil forces who sought her death.

And for sixteen years, the girl known as Briar Rose was happy, living with her aunts and not knowing of her heritage of the destiny that awaited her.


Hut

But as the princess’s sixteenth birthday approached, evil stirred. And she was no longer safe.

“We should have let her go!” Fauna said as the three fairies approached Maleficent’s castle. “We should have let her run off with her love. At least them she would be safe.”

“Hush!” Flora said. “We all knew this might happen. Maleficent has had sixteen years to plan. But we’re smarter than her! We will get her back!”

“If you two don’t be quiet, that crow will hear us!” Merriweather directed.

The fairies flew closer, determined to help the young man who held Aurora’s heart.


Tent

Phillip had no shelter in the dank room, not so much as a tent or a blanket. All he had was his determination to rescue his lady—his princess, he corrected, still stunned at Maleficent’s revelation that the young woman he’d met in the forest was the same woman to whom he’d been betrothed.

But with a sword and a shield—and some magical assistance—he was ready to fight for her. He refused to die in this chamber or live, trapped, for a hundred years while his true love lay bespelled.

Even if he had to fight a dragon.


Cave

Phillip emerged from the cave-like prison, ready to do battle for his lady. And battle he did, until at last, weary, dirty, and exhausted, he made his way to Stefan’s castle, where his true love waited.

When the prince finally reached Aurora, he stopped, stunned once again by her beauty. She was no longer a peasant girl; she was a princess, and even in sleep, she looked like an angel.

And, he was sure, she was his. By their fathers’ choices … and by their own. He loved Princess Aurora.

Smiling, Phillip bent down and touched his lips to hers.

 

Yummy use of the prompts. Aurora, a lovely name to match.

 

Nyota: I absolutely adore her name

Mira: I'm glad we feel the same about Phillip I totally agree about the development with the prince. I think he;s just fantastic

So it's been more than a year since I've posted But I am determined to not give up! I will finish these ... someday

When I started to write these Enchanted drabbles, I intended them to be from Giselle's point of view. But I found that I actually identify more with Nancy (the absolutely fantastic Idina Menzel), who got the happy ending she deserved, too, even though it was kind of a throwaway match-the-rejected-lovers moment.



Week Fifteen: Enchanted

Wife

Nancy was all about that girl power. She had worked hard to be an independent woman with a successful career, and she knew that was part of what drew Robert to her: He wanted a real-life role model for his princess-obsessed daughter. And Nancy was happy to be that person for Morgan and for Robert.

But part of her – a larger part than she wanted to admit to Robert – wanted more than that. And that, she admitted to herself, was part of what drew her to Robert: He would make a caring husband … and he was a great father.

Mother

This, Nancy thought, has GOT to go.

The hideously ugly statue of Edward’s stepmother took up more of the expansive bathroom than Nancy liked (And who puts a statue of themselves in a bathroom? she had asked more than once).

It was time to wipe the last of Narcissa from the castle. She was gone (and not missed), and Nancy had PLANS for this bathroom that involved much better artwork. This was getting done now.

It took twenty minutes of heaving to get the statue to the window, but the sound of it shattering on the courtyard was worth it.

Daughter

Nancy had no regrets leaving Robert and running away with Edward. Robert had clearly fallen for someone else, and Edward was Prince Charming in the flesh: handsome, intelligent, and much more interested in romance and wedding bells. Nancy didn’t even give it a second thought.

But Robert had one thing that Edward didn’t … until a year and a half after their wedding. Nancy leaned back against the pillows, exhausted but thrilled beyond belief as she watched the first love of her life hold their new one. Edward tickled the infant’s toes, and Nancy felt herself melt. This was happiness.

Sister

Nancy was so thrilled, in fact, that fewer than two years later, her first little bundle of joy had a sister. The two girls shared a room, something only-child Nancy had always dreamed about.

She couldn’t keep from smiling as she watched her two sleeping girls – and watched their loving father watch them. Eventually, he turned to her and gently tugged her out of the room. “Let them sleep,” he whispered. “And let’s you and I sleep, too. I’m exhausted.”

Nancy shot one last look over her shoulder as she shut the door and let the little princesses sleep peacefully.

Aunt

Nancy had never, from their first meeting, been fond of Giselle, but she learned that it was extraordinary circumstances that made her distrust the pretty girl on sight and extraordinary circumstances that taught her to like the woman her fiancée had fallen for. Giselle cooed over the babies, even as Robert held their daughter.

“Look at how beautiful you both are! Aunt Giselle just loves you.”

Edward beamed proudly, and Nancy and Robert exchanged a look. Robert shrugged and smiled, and Nancy smiled back. They had all gotten a happy, if unconventional, ending, and that was just fine with her.

 

NYCitygurl - these drabbles are back! Yay! Now, you'll just have to write a whole short story about Nancy and Edward The heart isn't always predictable but if you listen to it...

 

Nyota: I might at that -- I always liked Nancy

Mira: Thanks! I'm so happy to be posting them again Idina is seriously the best Mother was my favorite to write -- I can absolutely see her putting a statue of herself ... everywhere


It has been YEARS since I've seen Tarzan, but I've always had a soft spot for Jane



Week Sixteen: Tarzan

Assume

Jane had never assumed that life in the jungle would be easy, but she had put on a brave face because she wanted, more than anything, to study the gorillas. If she had to spend some time very, very far from civilization, then so be it.

She had never thought it would be so easy.

Three short months later, gone were her bonnet and massive petticoats. There was no one around to see or care, and Jane was free to swing (badly) around the jungle with her half-wild husband and their gorilla troop. It was like a dream come true.


Misunderstand

Tarzan’s English was improving every day, but as Jane stood up from the lake, soaking wet, she realized that he still had a long way to go.

“Jane,” her husband said, shaking his head, “why are you in the porch?”

“You said …” she began, then looked up at the treehouse. The clothes she had come running after, thinking Tarzan had thrown them in the water, were hanging off of the rail of their porch.

“That is the porch,”[/i] she replied, pointing. Tarzan looked confused and cocked his head.

“Jane,” her father called down, “why are you in the lake?”


Confuse

Tarzan gave the baby a long, slurpy lick, as Jane looked on, horrified.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Tarzan frowned. “Grooming baby.”

Jane took their son and tried to pat down his now-wet fringe of hair. “No, like this,” she replied, grabbing a comb. She kissed the baby’s soft cheek and handed him – and the comb – to Tarzan.

After she left, Tarzan gave the baby a long look. He looked funny with his fur combed straight. “It never hurt me,” he said with a shrug, cuddling the smiling baby. “Kala always groomed me. This will be our little secret.”


Deny

Even as she raced between trees, trying to make sure she could catch her limber, climbing son, Jane couldn’t deny that Tarzan was a good father. This tree business terrified her (for her son – she enjoyed swinging through the trees herself), but their little boy was a natural. His father had taught him the ways of the jungle, and he was more adept at moving and swinging and living in the trees than she ever would be. He would eventually make a wonderful leader of the gorilla troop.

Though right in this moment, she just wished he would climb down.


Admit

Snuggled against Tarzan, Jane had to admit that she had a wonderful life.

Living in the jungle wasn’t all fun and games, but neither was living in London (which was a jungle, too, though a very different sort). She was free, she was happy, she was in love, and she had her wonderful family – both the humans and animals – by her side. And in all the time she had been here, the closest she had ever come to being hurt was at another human’s hands.

And she also had to admit that living in a treehouse was pretty darn fun.

 

Terrific "What are you doing in the porch?" Loved all these, but Admit was the tops.

 

These are great! I especially like Confuse - it's cute to see Tarzan so tender (even if Jane doesn't get it ).

 

Nyota: Combining two worlds takes some adjustment Thanks!!

Tarsier: Thanks!! Tarzan really does love them.

Mira So true I'm glad you like them!!

After so long (I always say that ), I've written another: for Hercules. This movie always makes me sad, but the music is fantastic! And Meg is awesome



Week Seventeen: Hercules

Weapon

Hercules is training to be a weapon.

He already had superhuman strength—a gift from the gods, he had recently learned. Though, as with all gifts from the gods, this one had a price: his childhood as an outcast.

He shakes his head, trying to shake the thoughts away. They don’t matter now.

All that matters is that he follow Phil’s training and allow the satyr to turn him into the hero he so desperately wants to be. Only then can he be reunited with the family he was stolen from.

All that matters. All that matters. All that …


Helmet

The helmet has wings, and so does the shoes, and Hermes is ridiculously fond of both accessories. The blue-skinned messenger god serves as Zeus’s right hand and has since the beginning of time. They are truly friends, and Hermes is happy to serve the king of the gods.

And way about what could happen if Zeus falls. An Olympus rules by Hades is not one that Hermes desires.

And so, as the years pass and Zeus and Hera mourn the loss of their little boy, Hermes keeps watch, relaying news of the boy’s growth, trembling as his eighteenth birthday approaches.


Shield

Sarcasm is Meg’s shield. She might look like she’s all curves, but her tongue has nothing but sharp edges, all its softness worm away by her unfaithful lover’s betrayal. She and Hades actually make a good pair—something she will never see (or admit) and he will never tell her. After all, a god can’t place that much stock in a human. She is just a tool to him, nothing more (or so he tells himself).

In many ways, she is the creature he has made, and he glories in it. One more victory for the lord of the underworld.


Cloak

Meg might cloak her feelings—and her purpose, and her master, and everything true about her—but Hercules is incapable of being anything but genuine. He might no longer be the clumsy boy of his youth, but though he has trained himself to be confident, he feels like a bumbling idiot around her. And even more so when he learns the truth.

But because he is genuine, his feelings for her are real, and he won’t betray them just because she betrayed him. He did what he had to do to save the gods, but now he will save her.


Transmitter

There is no transmitter to Olympus, not one the humans can use to contact the gods. Humans are not worthy of that, and Meg knows—and knows that she isn’t worthy of him, after all she did to hurt him and all he did to save her.

So she turns away, leaving him to the family he has worked so hard to reach.

Meg cloaks her feelings, but Hercules is genuine, and he doesn’t give up. He’s seen her unmasked and knows her true worth.

And her true love. For him.

And he catches her hand in his and smiles.

 

Always happy to see these. Wonderful emotion-filled entries.

 

Nyota: Thank you!!

Mira: Thanks!! Hades is definitely one of my faves

I really want to (finally) finish these And I even have another set: The Emperor's New Groove! It is one of my all-time favorite movies; I really don't get sick of watching it. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it! It's absolutely hilarious.

These, in contrast, are a little darker. I meant to write something funny, and these came out instead. But I've decided that I actually like exploring a little beneath the surface


Week Eighteen: The Emperor’s New Groove

Sing

Kuzco fanned himself with his hand. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”

His lead singer, correctly interpreting the joke, replied, “You do look splendid today, your majesty.”

The emperor grinned. “I know, right?”

As soon as he turned, the singer wiped his own sweaty brow. It was his sole job to be prepared in case the teenager ruler decided to break into son – particularly his theme song – but he wasn’t young anymore; keeping up with a megalomaniac kid was starting to tire him.

Thirty more years until retirement, he kept repeating to himself. Thirty more years.


Talk

The matchmaker slumped over, defeated. H had spent weeks – nay, months – trying to find a suitable future empress, and in under 30 seconds, Kuzco had knocked all of them out for ridiculous reasons. So on top of the fact that it was the matchmaker’s job to find the emperor a bride who could provide an heir, he now had seven weeping, defeated girls to deal with.

Sure, the palace was great, and the perks were certainly quite cushy, but as he let a potential bride sob into his shoulder, the matchmaker started thinking about sending his resume to other monarchs.


Yell

Kronk knew better than to interrupt Yzma when she was on a rant, particularly when she was ranting about Kuzco.

It wasn’t like she had never been upset before – they kept hundreds of ceramic Kuzco heads on stock for her to smash when she wanted – but this was a new high. Or low. Kronk wasn’t sure.

To be fair, he didn’t ever think he’s seen the emperor fire Yzma before. She was understandably upset. And better that she yelled and smashed ceramic heads than anything more … drastic.

Kronk swallowed. Yes, better that he kept his head down this time.


Whisper

The old man’s voice was reed-thin, soft as a whisper. Pacha almost didn’t hear him, but when he finally located the source, he was horrified to see the guy caught in a banner. He hurried to help the man down.

His excitement diminished as the man explained why he had been thrown out a window. For the first time, Pacha grew nervous. He had been summoned to see the emperor for uncertain reasons, and now he was extremely wary.

What could happen? he tried to tell himself, but he couldn’t get the image of the man out of his head.


Ignore

Kuzco ignores it all.

The singer. The matchmaker. Yzma and Kronk. The old man. Pacha. As soon as they had passed from his sight, they were gone from his head.

There are many, many perks to being the emperor. Constant attention. Delectable food. Soft beds. Cushy furnature. Servants to se to every need. But with a thoughtless, self-absorbed leader, people are stretched too thin. Eventually, one of them snaps.

Tonight, Kuzco is lounging on his golden throne, being fed grapes from a golden platter held by one in a line of overworked, underappreciated servants.

Tomorrow, he will be a llama.

 

Excellent and doubtless realistic. Self-absorbed leaders make the worst and definitely someone or a group of someones will snap eventually. That last line a llama...