Chapter Text
The summers always meant that being left with a babysitter were even more often than during the school year. They also got dropped off at Funzo’s a lot. There used to be an entrance fee, but at some point the manager took pity on Uncle Donald and as long as it wasn’t more than once or twice a week, Uncle Donald could leave them to play around while he was out. It even got to the point where Uncle Donald trusted them enough to take the bus to Funzo’s on their own.
So, when they’d gotten caught hot-wiring the boat on their latest bid for adventure, the logical conclusion was that they’d get a very stern talking-to that they wouldn’t understand half of and then be sent off to Funzo’s while Uncle Donald rushed to interview for a job he probably wouldn’t get. Instead they had the exciting and yet uniquely unsettling experiece of finding out that their uncle - and by association, they themselves - were related to the famous Scrooge McDuck.
Facts they had learned:
- Scrooge McDuck was way more boring than the stories made him out to be
- Despite similar names, Mrs. Beakly was nothing like Mrs. Beakerson
- It takes approximately thirty minutes for Dewey to break a doorknob off a door using a bag of marbles
- There is a girl living here that’s able to carry all three of them around
- She is terrifying, but also the most interesting thing they’ve seen since the front hall
- Climbing through vents so much in the past is actually a useful skill to have
The Wing of Secrets was too tantalizing to pass up on, and it was also the only thing they had to do. Well, besides Huey, who looked like he really wanted to stay in Webby’s room and start copying down the family tree she had strung up there. His brothers had to admit that seeing their own family tree - a crazy conspiracy board version or not - was kind of insane. They’d gone years and years of Donald and Della and Uncle Gladstone, a set of grandparents they didn’t know and a nameless dad and a great uncle vaguely mentioned with an ‘S’ who is now apparently Scrooge McDuck himself.
For a moment they’re able to live in the illusion of Scrooge McDuck being just as amazing as the legends and stories and myths make him out to be. It gets shattered pretty quickly, though, once Dewey finds the old painting.
Like all the other paintings down here, it shows Scrooge McDuck doing something impressive and heroic. Whoever the skeletal looking bird pirate is, he looks pretty rad and the fact that he’s locked in a sword fight with Scrooge is even cooler. It’s just as believable as anything else they’ve seen in the room. What in no way can be true, however, is the person painted on the right side side, mid-swing on a rope. He looks happy and excited and wildly out of place.
“Is that Uncle Donald?” Huey asks in disbelief. Because it can’t be their uncle, not the same duck who made them wear life vests in their own home and insisted on them looking for cars at least four times before crossing the street.
“Oh yeah! He was Mr. McDuck’s sidekick!” Webby replied, as excited and upbeat as ever, not seeming to notice how the curiosity left all three of the brothers upon hearing that. Huey looked to Louie to confirm what he was already thinking, and Louie shook his head.
“Dewey’s right.” Huey said, looking back at the picture of an event that never could’ve happened.
“Totally fake.” Louie agreed, giving the items in the room another glance and trying to figure out how much they’d still be worth if they were all props of whatever they really were.
“Uncle Donald has never done anything cool.” Dewey informed Webby rather matter-of-factly.
“What?! Donald Duck is one of the most daring adventurers of all time!”
oOo
The Isle of Ogygia was a difficult island to find. Not only did it usually only let washed-up sailors lost as sea in, but when trying to find it you ran the risk of accidentally finding yourself on Ithaquack instead. The original plan had been to have either Launchpad or Della fly them there. Della was the safer choice of the two pilots, but Scrooge had mentioned that considering how often Launchpad crashed, his skills could be a valuable asset for this particular voyage.
When asked, however, both Della and Launchpad had turned them down.
“Sorry guys, but Launchpad is helping me out of the DMV today,” Della had said, looking honeslty regretful that she wouldn’t be able to come, “My driver’s license is well over expired.”
“And I just got mine recently! I’m basically famous there.” Launchpad bragged, puffing his chest out while Della rolled her eyes.
“I can imagine that.” Huey said.
“Say hi to Callie for me though!” Launchpad added as he was almost dragged out the door by Della who was grumbling a ‘let’s get this over with’.
“So, now what? Should we just jump into the water and hope we wash up on Ogygia?” Louie asked, the four little ducks turning to Uncle Scrooge. Uncle Scrooge stared after Launchpad and Della for a minute, bill turned up in a deeply contemplative expression.
“We need a sailor.” He said after what might’ve been the world’s longest pause. “C’mon kids. I probably should’ve started with him anyway.”
They followed after their uncle as he went out to the houseboat. Uncle Scrooge didn’t go out there often. In fact, most of them didn’t go out there often, and walking across the plank of wood to the boat made all three of the boys shuffle awkwardly. This had been their home for years. The boat has been rebuild time and again, and yet it still held an odd air to it, like it had been waiting for them all this time. Even know that the wood beneath their feet was different, newer and stronger that what they’d grown up walking across, it creaked with such familiarity that Huey had to remind himself that they were at their uncle’s mansion and not back on the docks.
Uncle Donald was below deck, rooting through his clothes. There were three separate piles in the kitchen/living room area. He was so engrossed in picking through one of the stacks that he didn’t notice them until Uncle Scrooge coughed rather pointedly. Uncle Donald squawked and fell into the clothing pile. Dewey found himself grinning at that. Yep, that was their Uncle Donald.
“Hi. What brings you all here?” Uncle Donald asked, standing up and peeling the staticy clothes off of him.
“We’re making a trip to Ogygia.” Uncle Scrooge said.
“As long as you don’t actually get lost at sea, that sounds fine.” Uncle Donald replied and knelt back down to continue his purging of unnecessary clothes. Scrooge put his cane down on the shirt Uncle Donald had reached for and drew Uncle Donald’s attention back to him.
“We need someone to sail us there.” Scrooge further elaborated. “I might even be convinced to pay you for the job.”
Uncle Donald blinked a few times, staring up at Scrooge, then looking over at the kids. The three boys all clasped their hands together, trying to look as sweet as possible.
“Please Uncle Donald? We’ve been looking forward to this all week!” Louie begged. Uncle Donald sighed, a clear sign of defeat, and the kids cheered and high-fived each other while Uncle Donald picked some clothes out of the pile and went to another room to get changed, coming back out in his black sailor uniform, fixing a hat on his head and finishing clasping something around his neck, the rest of the necklace stuffed underneath his shirt.
The boat they took was on the smaller side of things, but bigger and far better equipped than the houseboat. Despite how nice it was, Uncle Donald grumbled when they came up to it.
“My boat’s perfectly fine. She’s been through hell and back and is still afloat.”
“No, a replica of your boat made of some scraps of the last one is still afloat.” Scrooge corrected and Uncle Donald quacked offendedly.
“Well, my boat now. My rules. Kids, put lifejackets on.” Uncle Donald ordered and turned around to focus on the ship’s controls. All four of them groaned and Louie started to say something, but Uncle Scrooge - to the surprise of the four kids - shook his head. Dewey didn’t seem to get the message and spoke up anyway.
“But Uncle Donald, we’re been on way more dangerous things than a boat and survived! Like all the times the plane’s crashed!” Dewey pointed out.
“The plan is to get to Ogygia and still have a functional boat when we do. That’s much easier said than done, so we need to plan for every eventuality. And that definitely includes getting shipwrecked.” Uncle Donald said rather sternly, leaving no more room for debate. Dewey didn’t look too pleased with that, but didn’t say anything else as he crossed his arms. The kids opened the closet, taking out the various and mismatched lifejackets in there and quickly getting into a fight over who would get which one.
Louie stood off to the side, watching the fighting go down as he buckled the camo-style one on. What good camoflauge did in the water, he wasn’t sure, but it was the greenest one in there and had been given to him with little argument.
“We should’ve taken my boat.” Louie heard Uncle Donald grumble again.
“Your boat needs a new check up, lad. Gyro did a good job with it twelve years ago, but just imagine what he could do to it now.” Uncle Donald snorted at that.
“Just what I need, a sentient boat that’s going to turn evil. I’ll stick with what I have, thanks. The Flying Dutchman wood works fine - and we could use a boat that can regenerate where we’re going.” Uncle Donald further stressed and Louie raised his eyebrows. Well, that certainly would explain how the boat had survived through so many of Uncle Donald’s tantrums.
“Aye, perhaps, but I trust your skills.” Uncle Donald was focused on getting the ship out of the port, so he didn’t see Uncle Scrooge lift his hand to pat Uncle Donald’s back before putting it down without having gone through with the action. Louie saw it though.
“We’ll see. I haven’t done something like this in a while.”
“Now then, to get to Ogygia-”
“I’ll find Ogygia. You just get ready for a fight.”
A fight? Louie has to admit that piqued his interest. He would’ve thought that with Uncle Donald at the wheel, they’d be avoiding each and every even remotely dangerous task set before them. He’d almost prefer it that way. Just a nice and easy boat ride where he could take a nap and then wake up when they hit the island. Uncle Scrooge has mentioned some precious and rare gems could be found on the island, and various priceless hand-woven things that Louie didn’t find much interest in - what would he need a rug for? - but he could probably sell for quite a bit.
“Louie!” Louie jumped, pulled out of his train of thought by his unluckiest uncle’s voice.
“Yeah Uncle Donald?” At some point during Louie’s zone out, Scrooge had left the room, and behind Louie the other three kids were starting to resolve their fight. Webby had won the lifejacket with flames up the sides, leaving Dewey and Huey to fight over the blue and white one that smelled like an armpit and the hottest of pink that smelled like feet.
“Did you bring your khopesh?”
If Louie’s eyebrows could go any higher on his head, they would.
“Maybe?” Louie said. He’d gotten into a sort of habit of carrying his khopesh along with him on trips. It wasn’t always useful, but more than anything it usually at least helped him feel a bit more in control of situations that he couldn’t or was still working on talking his way out of.
“You might end up needing it.” Uncle Donald said with a sigh. “Stay safe.”
“Okay. I mean, I’m probably not the one you’ll need to really worry about.” Louie nodded behind him. Uncle Donald let out a huff of laughter.
“Like you don’t get into enough trouble all on your own.”
Louie shrugged and practically glowed under the smile that his uncle gave him. Uncle Donald ruffled the feathers on top of Louie head and he quickly tried to disguise how happy it made him.
In the end, Dewey got the hot-pink-foot-scented lifevest and Huey got the blue-white-armpit-scented one. It was unclear who had won. Louie passed on what Uncle Donald had said about him needing his khopesh and Webby eagerly broke into a bag she had brought along and set to matching weapons up with the boys. She insisted she’d be fine with her fists and grappling hook, though she did begrudgingly stash a knife on her person as well.
Dewey didn’t seem completely convinced that there’d be too much to worry about. It was something that worried Uncle Donald after all, and that could mean a lot of things, and Dewey thought it was something on the lower end. He was more than happy to accept the dual blades that Webby offered him, though. Huey chose the crossbow, explaining that he’d taken crossbow lessons for Junior Woodchucks. Webby ended up correcting his grip on it, and Dewey and Louie revelled in a moment of Huey actually not knowing everything.
After an hour of begging, a pretty small amount as far as Uncle Donald went, they managed to get his permission to go out onto the deck of the boat. Showing off that they had weapons had helped to convince him, and with much reluctance he said that as long as they were careful - that means not trying to reenact a scene from the Titanic, or a scene from Jaws, or any scene from any movie. And that if Uncle Scrooge told them to get inside, then get inside.
“Yes Uncle Donald.” They chorused, and despite focusing on driving the boat, he was able to spare them a smile.
The sea-spray kicked up from the boat filled the air with a smell that gave all three boys a rather acute sense of homesickness. Uncle Scrooge was out there, gazing off into the distance where they could see some land coming into view.
“We’re getting closer sooner than I thought we would.” Uncle Scrooge commented when Webby approached him. He’d swapped his cane out for a sword he currently had sheathed, hands placed upon the hilt just as he would have them on his cnae. He didn’t sound worried, in fact there was almost a note of pride in his voice. Webby looked up at him curiously.
“Isn’t it an island? Why are we heading towards land?” Webby asked.
“I thought this might happen.” Uncle Scrooge said, and his voice now took on a grim note. “Before we’ll be able to reach the island of a daughter of a titan, we’ll have to get past Scylla and Charybdis. The good news, though, is that if the boat gets ruined, there’s a good chance we’ll end up on Ogygia anyway.”
“Wait, like the Scylla and Charybdis?!” Webby was shaking with excitement. At Uncle Scrooge’s nod she jumped with ‘whoop!’, pumping a fist in the air, and he quickly grabbed her lifejacket to keep her from accidentally jumping over the railing and into the ocean.
“What’s got Webby so excited?” The trio of boys - who had been reenacted scenes from various movies a little ways away - had apparently gotten bored of that and now eyed Webby, who was brandishing her knife, cutting the air while declaring different names for the techniques.
“She’s just excited that we’ll get to fight some monsters is all.” Uncle Scrooge replied. “Be on your guard, boys. We’ll need to pass right between Scylla and Charybdis to get to Ogygia.”
“If we go too far to left, Scylla’s hundred heads will devour us! But if we go too far to the right, we’ll be caught up in Charybdis’ whirlpool and swallowed whole!” Webby explained, dramatic hand gestures accompanying the tale.
“Wow, do you think Uncle Donald needs some help? I think he needs some help.” Louie moved to go back to their uncle but was stopped by Dewey.
“C’mon, Louie! If Uncle Donald finds out you’re scared he’ll make us all stay inside!” He whined and Uncle Scrooge set a hand on Louie’s shoulder.
“Donald has a rough task ahead of him. It’s best if he has no distractions. We’ll just need to be ready to defend the ship. Your uncle will likely stray more towards Scylla. You can fight a monster, it’s much harder to fight a whirlpool.” Uncle Scrooge’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. Louie gave the door to the cabin a longing look but sighed and just adjusted his hold on his khopesh.
The straight between the two cliffs was narrow to begin with, but the whirlpool on one side and monstrous dragon-like heads on the other made it look even smaller. Uncle Scrooge unsheathed his sword, revealing that it was actually flaming. He shrugged at the awed stares the weapon garnered.
“It’s a multi-headed greek monster. I’m not going to risk having a hydra problems on our hands.”
“What about our very much not flaming weapons?” Huey asked. Scrooge flapped a unworried hand at the question.
“Oh, just keep yourselves from being killed. Better to deal with an extra head than with having to save one of you.”
The boat jolted forward, speed increasing suddenly and drastically as they reached the two monsters. It bounced along the water’s surface, practically more in the air than the water. Scylla’s heads hissed and dived to them. With a war cry, Scrooge swung his sword, easily cutting through the monster’s tough hide. Her heads hit the deck, a strong burnt smell meshing with the sea air. The now headless necks writhed in the air and pained screams coming from some of the neighboring heads.
Webby, Louie, and Dewey had their backs to each other in a tight circle, slashing at anything that got close, while Huey was a little ways away shooting at other heads that were a bit farther way. The blood of Scylla left sizzling drops on the floor of the boat that the triplets didn’t need Webby’s warning shout to know not to touch.
Of course, the biggest problem with using a crossbow is that eventually you’re going to run out of arrows.
“Uh, guys?” Huey said, reaching for another bolt and realizing that there were none left.
“Don’t worry Huey, we’re coming!” Dewey promised, the three slowly edging their way towards him, unwilling to break their formation.
“Guys!” Huey shouted, more desperately this time as one of the heads seemed to notice that he was alone and vulnerable. She roared, rearing back at first before darting forward, a blur of motion. Huey screamed, throwing his hands in front of himself as if it would do any good. Scylla never reached him, however. Instead, there was another scream, higher-pitched than his, and when Huey opened his eyes he saw Webby in Scylla’s jaws. Her knife was sticking into the roof of Scylla’s mouth, and with clear effort she pulled it out and stabbed one of the monster’s eyes.
“Webby!” Huey reached forward to grab her, his cry joined by those of his brothers, but the head holding Webby moved out of range.
“Webbigail!” Scrooge started over and made a step towards her, but the heads bearing down on his barely let him take that step forward. His hands were full with all the attention he’d gotten himself.
The events were hard to keep up with in the moment. The sound of splintering wood, feet pounding across the deck, a loud squawk that was a garbled shout that nobody had the time to spare in trying to understand what was said.
Inside one of Scylla’s mouths, Webby tried to stifle tears and the fear that was crawling around inside of her. She pulled her knife out of the monster’s eye and started slashing at the inside of the mouth. She felt Scylla roaring more than she actually heard it, and the blood from the slices Webby had made burned her chest and arms and hands but it was all she could do.
Both she and Scylla made a surprised sound as they were suddenly in free-fall, though the sound coming from Scylla stopped abruptly and light poured through where the long and seemingly endless black of the throat had once been. Webby didn’t fall into the ocean, nor onto the deck of the ship. Instead, the severed head and by association Webby were caught in a pair of arms. She peeked out the side of the jaws and watched a pair of webbed feet jumping from the top of one head to the other until they made it back to the boat. The lower jaw was wrenched open with a crack, hands grabbing her and pulling her off of the teeth. She couldn’t stop the whimper she made, and there were gentle and soothing quacks that she couldn’t understand.
“It’s going to be okay, Webby, we’re almost through the strait.”
She looked up, and the sun was behind Donald Duck, casting his features into shadow and giving him a bright aura. She choked back some more tears and despite the pain from the bite and the blood she leapt forward and threw her arms around him, holding tightly onto him.
“It’s okay Webby. I need you to get inside the boat.”
“No!” She held on even tighter, terrified of being alone. She could just imagine being in that cabin, hearing the sounds of a fight going down and being left to her imagination to decide what they meant. No, she couldn’t do that.
“Webby!”
“NO!”
She could just hear a sigh over the sound of the others fighting and the hissing and roaring of Scylla. The sigh was breathed into the top of her head, accompanied by a kiss. Her arms were unwrapped from Uncle Donald, and she started to shout again but found them wrapped around Uncle Donald’s neck.
“Hold on tight, okay?”
Huey was sandwiched between Dewey and Louie, unable to do more than bash nearby heads with his now pretty useless crossbow. He'd tried to convince Dewey to give him one of the dual blades, but Dewey had said they were called 'dual' for a reason. Huey was, however, able to see everything that happened. He’d been able to watch Uncle Donald burst through the door, actually tearing it off its hinges, scimitar in hand, jumping from head to head, cutting through anything in his way until he reached Webby. After he’d freed Webby, she hung off his back as he continued to fight off the barrage of heads alongside them.
The water opened up again as they made it through the strait, the shear cliffs ending. Immediately Uncle Donald rushed back inside of the boat and to the wheel, Webby still holding onto him. The Louie and Dewey collapsed on the spot, exhausted, weapons falling to the ground. Uncle Scrooge set to work getting the dead heads off of the boat, tossing them into the water, and then on his way to the boat’s cabin picked up the blue and green triplets, Huey walking after them.
“Is Webby going to be okay?” Huey fretted. She wasn’t hanging onto Uncle Donald now, instead sitting by his feet, eyes closed.
“She’ll be okay. Her feet are a little burned and she got some nasty puncture wounds from Scylla’s fangs, but she’ll be okay.” Uncle Donald told them. Louie and Dewey both took the information with exhausted nods, sitting down next to Webby and soon drifting off as well. Huey stayed awake, though, rooting through a cupboard until he’d pulled out the first-aid kid and dragging it over to Webby and his brothers.
“I’ll be out on deck again.” Scrooge announced. “No need for something else to surprise us.” He left without another word, but he was looking at Uncle Donald, lifted a hand like he did whenever he pat one of the kids on the head, and then dropped the hand without having done anything.
“Don’t worry, you can wrap the injuries if you want, but Calypso should be able to help.” Uncle Donald assured Huey as he pulled out some antiseptic and a small washcloth.
“I just… she got hurt because of me.” Huey said, looking at the red on Webby’s feathers, how still the usually so animated girl was.
“She got hurt because of Scylla.” Uncle Donald corrected. “And she’ll be okay. It’s the risk of adventuring. She knew it going in. She’s a tough one.”
“Yeah.” Huey agreed. He worked on cleaning up the wounds, but found himself looking at his uncle. It was weird. During the Shadow War, it was easy to see Uncle Donald doing really cool things. It was like the voice modulator had made him a completely different person, and then when it’d broken, he’d gone back to being their normal and worried uncle. But today Huey had seen that same fighter, that same adventurer again, but this time it was irrefutably his uncle. “Wait, do you know Calypso?”
“I’ve been in a shipwreck or two.” Uncle Donald said with a grin, pulling out a crystal pendant from under his shirt. “Get some rest. It’ll be another hour or so before we reach Ogygia.”