Each breath was sharp and quick. Each breath brought little comfort to the frozen little white mouse. The ground beneath it was hard and made of bars. Bars going up and down, left and right. There was enough space between them for his feet to slip through, but not enough for him. Escape wasn’t possible. He had escaped the cat, but he had fallen into the clutches of something perhaps far worse.

The giant tore him from the jaws of the cat and put him here. The giants with the food. The little white mouse grew up fearing the giants, but every mouse knew that where the giants were, there was food, lots of it. And also cats.

The mouse washed his face for the third time, unable to get the smell of the giants, cat breath, and fear off of him. It didn’t make things better for him that this metal nest was very uncomfortable on his feet. The giant looking at him through the bars and shaking the nest didn’t help.

The giant’s thunderous cries blared in the mouse’s ears, summoning more giants to gather, gawk, and grunt. They were worse than any cat’s yowl.

The nest shook and rattled. The world spun around him as the mouse in his prison was paraded around the home of the beasts - a large wooden cave on top of four wooden circles and attached to a long-legged, long-tailed creature. The mouse had seen the giants come in and out of this mobile wooden cave, but dared not to go inside until hunger compelled him. The giants moved and placed his cage all about the cave before moving him elsewhere until one giant placed the cage up on a hook that was fixed to the ceiling of the cave.

There, the mouse hung. In his corner, the mouse continued to wash his face. His red eyes took in all of his surroundings but processed nothing. Only the deafening, guttural mumblings of the giants echoed in his head as well as worries about his immediate future, and if there would be one.

The mouse washed his face.

One of the giants went away while the others continued to stare at him. The smallest giant continued to prod the cage nearest to him, but he refused to move. The mouse continued to watch the giants observe him and his constant washing.

The cage shook as the first giant returned. Its immense weight shook the ground beneath it as well as the rest of the wooden cave. It reached up and opened a part of the cave. The mouse had a chance to escape! Or did it want him to come, fall into another trap? The mouse sat paralyzed and watched the opening in front of him. Another hand came close to the opening and flung in some grains and a large chunk of brown, crunchy food. Some of it bounced off of the mouse’s head; he stepped back in shock, and a foot slipped between the bars. In a frantic hurry to get back on his feet, the mouse pulled his foot up and cut himself against a sharp burr in the metal. The pain wouldn’t register until later.

The mouse continued to wash himself.

The giants continued to watch him.

Many lights had passed since the mouse had been trapped in his new home. Many darknesses had come and gone since hunger drove him to gamble his safety.

There was no hope of escape, and if he could escape, he didn’t know if he could outrun the cat again, let alone survive the fall from the cage to the hard ground below. The cut had healed over, but the cage had done far worse to him. In fear, the mouse refused to move unless necessary, and when he did, he did so with extreme caution as not to slip through one of the many holes and risk injury again.

Most of the day, he would sit in the farthest corner and eat until there was no food left, and then he would sit and watch the giants. This new life he was ensnared in robbed him of his freedom of movement, his drive to live, his libido. All of it, gone. All that was left was him, and the world around him - the cave of the giants.

Sleeping in the cage had also become a bit of a nuisance, as rolls of fat that hadn’t existed before were now flowing into the holes over which he laid, and would get cut from a sharp burr if he didn’t ease up slowly.

The only reason he got up anymore, besides to eat or defecate, was something that he never thought he would ever find pleasant. The giant’s cave would move, pulled by the long-tailed, long-legged creature he saw before, and the world would pass by him through an opening of the cave near his metallic nest. These giants went to places where many more giants lived, and then they would perform a bizarre ritual that confused and enthralled the mouse to no end.

These giants would cover themselves with flashy materials that could be both tight on their frames or loose and flowing. Each material gave them a whole new appearance and a whole new feel to them. After altering their appearance, they would parade outside to the hoots and hollers of the giants outside, but not before taking with them some kind of wooden tool. Once the mouse’s captors were outside, a sweet melody would come drifting in as if on a breeze.

This pleasant sound, this music, would calm all of the other giants into a hypnotic stupor. Even the sounds the captors made themselves lacked much of their usual cacophonic qualities, and even sedated the mouse. That was until the music ended and the crowd of giants roared in appreciation of this gift.

This cycle of travel and music proceeded for many lights.

One light, while the cave sat still and the giants were out, a noise from the nearest hole caught the mouse’s attention. Shifting his massive weight, the mouse rolled over to the side and saw nothing, but the scratching continued. The grey head of a mouse popped up and peered into the cave.

A brother! Another brother had ventured to this cave!

The white mouse was overwhelmed with so many emotions this unexpected guest had awoken, many that the white mouse had forgotten he could feel. Surprise, concern, jealousy, eagerness, all of these swirled in his head. He felt like jumping, hiding, running towards the brother, running away from the brother, greeting the brother, chasing the brother away; oh, all these things he would do! But he could only shift slightly to the left and let out a lamentable squeak.

The brother looked up at the metal nest that hung above him. It let out a soft call, Hello? Are brothers or sisters present?

Unlike the giants, who vocalized themselves frequently, mice had a very subtle form of communication, and only spoke in the broadest of terms using squeaks, gestures, and face twitches. It was more than enough to inform fellow brothers and sisters of food or danger, and quiet enough to keep them from being noticed.

To the sky, brother.

The grey mouse looked up towards the source of the answer. He saw he wasn’t alone.

Brother of snow, what family are you?

I am of mouse, brother of stone.

But why so big, brother? Mice aren’t big.

Danger, brother. This cave has giants and a cat!

The grey mouse looked around the empty cave from his spot in the whole in the wall.

I see no cats or giants. In grass out of this cave there was a cat.

Was it the color of late light?

Yes, brother.

That is the cat. Then there is no danger. Now.

The grey mouse slowly moved closer to edge of the hole, stood up on its hind legs, and peered up to the metal nest.

Brother, why are you so big? You look ready for the long snow.

The giants, brother. The giants give food. Lots of food! And this nest is so hard; my feet ache and walking hurts. Every light is long winter to me.

The grey mouse leapt down onto a large wooden box, the top of which was opened many times by the giants and where much of their colorful coverings were stored.

Brother, may I have some food? I have walked much and am very hungry.

The white mouse shifted over slightly and looked to the few remaining foodstuffs next to him. He was about to call out an answer, but a thought came to him.

You may, brother. But I want something from you.

What is it, brother?

I’ll give you food, but come next light. I can give you more food.

I can do, brother.

Dislodging himself with a grunt, the white mouse lurched over to his foodstuffs before stuffing his cheeks with them, then hobbled back over to the closest corner to the hole and the mouse. With a push on his cheeks, the foodstuffs fell to the top of the wooden box the grey mouse stood on. The grey mouse scooped up as much of the food as he could until the sounds of the giants outside of the cave got closer.

Much pleasure, snow brother! Next light!

Next light, stone brother!

And the stone-grey mouse jumped out of the cave.

Next light, the stone brother came and the snow brother gave offerings of food for company. The stone brother followed the cave in its travels, and the snow brother always saved some of his food for his stone brother.

Each light, the brothers exchanged life-giving food for life-improving company. The stone mouse learned much about the giants and their ways from the snow brother, and the snow brother was told much about the outside world from the stone brother.

This mutual exchange of love would continue for many lights and darknesses, until one light, the stone brother stopped coming.

Several more lights passed, and still no sign of the stone brother appeared. The snow brother was devastated. At the start of each passing light, hope was rekindled in his heart that the stone brother would come, but as the light faded into the darkness, the fire in his heart died again. Even the music the giants made gave him little comfort.

It was possible the cat had got him. Or some of the many dangers out in the grass or trees had got him. The white mouse wept when his stone brother failed to appear before darkness.

Until one darkness, awoken by the creaking near the largest hole, the hole that the giants used to enter and exit the cave opened. Way at the back of the cave, farthest from the white mouse, the faint moonlight flowed around a creature the size of a young giant, but with features unlike any giant the white mouse had ever seen before. This creature slipped through the cave on two legs and up to the metal nest.

Fear struck the white mouse’s heart as unfamiliar hands grasped the bottom of his nest and lifted it off the hook. He wanted to bite the hands, scratch them, tear into them, cry loudly so his captors would wake up and save him. There was still a chance for him to be reunited with his stone brother, but if he was spirited away, that chance would vanish!

But alas, fear and his poor health overpowered him as he rolled about the nest, unable to do more than worry about his immediate future, and if there was going to be one.

The little giant leapt from the inside of the cave and out into the moonlight before vanishing off into the darkness of the trees. The whole way, this giant grumbled to the mouse in the same guttural way that other giants did, but much softer than any others had.

The giant continued its stride through the trees until it came upon another, shorter giant that held a moon in his hands. The two exchanged grumbles before the first giant opened the nest. A hand reached in and wrapped its fingers around the little mouse before he had a chance to stand back up.

Not ready to give up, the mouse sank his teeth into a finger, and the hand let go. The shorter giant with the moon hollered and knocked the nest out of the hands of the other giant. The nest fell to the ground and rattled the mouse inside. He was unable to get up and flee due to his sheer bulk before all freedom of movement was taken. Enveloped in a glowing light, the mouse was lifted by invisible hands out of the cage and closer towards the moon the shorter giant held before being blinded by a flash of white.

Everything was fuzzy. Opening his eyes again after the flash, he found himself laying down on the grass. The light of day shone into his eyes and he shut them again. His skull felt like it had just met the business end of a sledgehammer. He rubbed his temple and moaned.

The mouse had no idea what had happened. After that flash, he’d had the worst fever dreams imaginable, and they seemed to go on forever about the weirdest of stuff. A-B-C’s, Pythagorean Theorem, Socratic Method, Do-Re-Mi, and sometimes ‘y.’; It was like he just spent the last few years in school in the span of ten seconds. It left him with a severe case of mental burnout.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to me?”

The mouse rolled over onto his back and moaned some more until he opened his eyes again. There, a furry giant with large ears and a long nose stared back. “Oh, good! You’re finally awake!”

The mouse did what came natural to him.

He screamed.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

He pushed away the giant above him and turned about to run; unfortunately, his arms and legs didn’t work like he remembered. He only made it a few feet before stumbling over himself. That didn’t stop his screaming though.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

He turned back to the giant he had seen before, who was now covering his large ears. “Wow, you’re a screamer. Very different from your brother.”

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

The short giant stopped smiling. “Ok, ok. Enough of the theatrics. You’re giving me a headache.”

The white mouse obliged, only because he had run out of breath. His chest moved up in down with his rapid, shallow breaths, and his eyes remained completely wide, fixed on this creature before him. “I… I understood you!”

The creature let go of his ears and smiled. “Great! That means another success! I’m two for two now.”

“What? Success?” The mouse looked down at himself. No longer was he in his fat body that he was accustomed to, but now he had much longer arms and legs. His fur now covered every inch of him, and his hands and feet felt different than before. The only things that were the same were that he was white and fat. “What… What have I become? Who are you? What did you do to me?”

The creature nodded and stroked his chin. “All very good questions. Since I already have some experience with the process, I’ll give you a quick summary, then you can ask me whatever is on your mind afterwards. Ok? It will probably take less time that way.”

The white mouse just nodded. What was he going to do otherwise?

The creature cleared his throat and threw out his chest. “I am the Mouse King! And this” -- the Mouse King pulled out a crystal ball the size of his head from behind him-- “is the Brain of Atlantis.

“My goal is to become the greatest king of all time. Using the Brain of Atlantis, I have been able to change my form, increase my intellect, and do the same to you and your brother. You are still a mouse, just with a different body. You have spent the last... what was it, three? Yeah, three days in a coma while your body changed and your mind ‘went to school’ as it were, and the Brain of Atlantis was its teacher. You can now speak and read twelve human languages, including multiple dialects, think freely like a human, understand logic puzzles, and even recognize your reflection in mirrors.

“Why did I do this? Well, I’m going to need help to become the world’s greatest king, so if you help me, I will help you with whatever goals you may have. Where did this Brain of Atlantis come from? It came from the fabled lost civilization of Atlantis, which you’ve undoubtedly learned about in coma school.

“So that is the end of my info dump. Do you have any questions?”

Thoughts of all sorts raced through his mind. That is not a brain, brains are pink and soft and mushy. And Atlantis didn’t really exist! It was proven to be a myth, right? It took a while, but the white mouse finally looked up and opened his mouth. One of the thoughts fought its way out. “Aren’t kings supposed to wear clothes?”

The King nodded and looked himself over. “Well, clothes do make the mouse, but I’m fine going with the whole ‘Emperor's New Clothes’ thing I got going on.”

The white mouse took a moment to inspect the Mouse King over as well. He was short, naked, and his ribs showed from what must have been weeks of hunger. He looked less like a king and more like a confident beggar with a shiny ball under one arm. He found it hard to say anything more with all these new thoughts rushing about in his head. The sound of footsteps knocked him back to reality; he looked up to see the short king standing over him.

“You look like your brain is still trying to process all this information. So, I’m going to put you to sleep for another few hours or so. I’ve learned from experience that it is much easier for you if your brain takes more time to sort out all that new information. I’ll wake you up later, then you’ll get to meet your brother again! He’s been dying to meet you. Well, nighty-night!”

The King reached down and poked the white mouse on the head. Everything went black.

In his sleep, the thoughts continued to race and gave him lucid dreams, but as the dream went on, things began to make more sense. Language, humans, the world. What he knew before as a mouse was mostly overwritten with the new knowledge knocked into his noggin.

When the white mouse opened his eyes again, everything was dark. The faint light of a campfire glowed on the trees around him, and an aroma of something cooking wafted into his nose. Pushing himself up, the mouse felt well rested and much more in control of his mind than before. A blanket had been thrown over him, likely by one of the two figures before him that sat next to the fire. One short figure and one tall figure, and next to the tall figure was a full sack.

The tall figure looked at the white mouse and turned to the shorter figure. “My King! He is awake, he is.”

The Mouse King turned to the white mouse. “So he is! How are you doing, ‘snow brother?’”

The white mouse tried to stand up, but fell back down to his bottom. “I’m feeling a lot better than before.” He looked up at the taller figure, who was lit up by the fire, but it must have been playing tricks on his eyes. This ‘brother’ looked a lot different than the one he was familiar with. “Is that really you, stone brother? You look different.”

Stone brother nodded. “I have changed, I have.” He reached back and pulled out a mirror from the sack behind him and handed it to snow brother. “And so have you.”

The white mouse took the mirror and inspected his reflection. Much of his features had changed to resemble the giants, called humans, such as his new chin, his forehead, and his arms and legs. His eyes were pink with bright red pupils, and the insides of his ears were a bright pink. Despite the extra chins, he rather liked what he saw. He had been reborn, and this was the body that had been given to him. It was rather nice. The face seemed flawless.

He took a minute to look over his body as well. Everything was still accounted for, if sometimes in a different size or shape, but his body felt nice.

“You’re not the only one who’s happy you turned out so well. I hope I can make more like you.” The Mouse King pulled a ladle out the small cauldron and took a sip of its contents. “I wish I’d also taught you how to cook, like Marcus here. He makes some excellent stew with what is available. If you want to, later, that could be arranged.”

Marcus slapped the King’s hand. “King or no king, you don’t use my mixing and serving ladle as a spoon then dip it back in without washing it off, you don’t.”

The King took the ladle and licked it clean. “Better?”

Marcus snatched it from the King’s hand and wiped it on a towel he had on his shoulder. “Just because we are living in the rough doesn’t mean we can’t practice good hygiene, we can’t.”

The King snapped his fingers twice and shook his head. “Oh, feisty. What are you going to do? Tell me what to do from here on out?”

Marcus looked up at the King with a smile. “I just might. I owe you my life, I do, so I might as well be your adviser. Every good king has one, they do.” He turned around and saw that the white mouse had now crawled over to him and was taking a very hard look at him.

“Stone brother? Is it really you? Marcus? Which is it?”

The tall figure, stone brother, Marcus, leaned down towards the white mouse. “I am both, I am. Marcus is my new name, but I will always be your brother, I will.” He leaned down closer, and the white mouse got a better look at his brother’s head.

“Jesus Christ! What happened to you, brother!?”

Both brothers flinched. One from shock, the other from shock and pain. It took a moment, but the white mouse just realized that what he said hurt his brother. The strained look in Marcus’ eyes tore his heart more than any knife could. He reached over and put a hand on Marcus’ knee.

“Oh lord! I’m terribly sorry, brother. I didn’t mean to offend.”

After a moment, Marcus turned back to face his brother. “It’s alright. It could have been worse, it could.” Marcus pointed over to the King. “Without him, I’d be dead and not here with you, I would.”

The white mouse turned to the King, who had stood up and stuck out his bony chest. “That is correct! I was walking through the woods on a trail, and there I saw a mouse scamper across the trail, then swoosh! An owl swooped down, grabbed him, and took him up to a tree and started tearing at his head. So, I fried the owl with this baby.” He held up the Brain of Atlantis. “Then I found the mouse, and his poor head was all torn up and bloody. I did what I could at the time to heal the wounds, but I haven’t really gotten a knack for healing with this thing yet. Really, all I can do is throw fire, that transformation thing, and a few other neat tricks.

“So, I decided to use the transformation tool and try to heal the wound while shaping his body. Unfortunately… I didn’t get it all, but he lived! And now there are two of you! Three of us! Things are working out nicely so far, don’t you think?...”

The King continued on his tangent, but the white mouse turned to Marcus and looked again. Much of his scalp was missing, and exposed bone and scarred tissue were all that was left for a good portion of his head. The scratches left from that owl, no doubt.

“So that is why you were gone for so long? I thought you were dead.”

“I’m terribly sorry to have troubled you, brother, I am.”

The white mouse looked down at the ground he was sitting on before fighting to look back into his brother’s eyes again. He felt his eyes burn and some moisture run down his cheeks. This had never happened to him when he was a simple mouse.

“Hey, Marcus, the stew’s gotta be done now! Let’s eat!”

As the three of them ate rabbit stew from wooden bowls, they talked about anything that came to mind. The more they talked, the more the thoughts and knowledge in the white mouse’s head got a chance to settle. It was rather unnerving to be able to understand something when he first heard about it, but the King informed them that after a while it stopped but it took a week or so.

While the King was quite a talker, he only talked about his future, his plans, and how amazing his future and plans were. When the white mouse tried to ask him where he was from, or more about the Brain of Atlantis, the King would quickly change the subject and ask them about their pasts. The most that they were able to get out of him was that he used to live way out in the woods in a hut before he started off on his quest, which was on a Tuesday.

Forced to reflect on his past, the white mouse was astonished to see how much this new knowledge enlightened him of his past situation. He wasn’t a captive back then; he was a pet. He was saved by the humans from the jaws of their cat. And their music? They were traveling bards, singing songs and putting on plays to entertain and inspire others. Expressing to the King and Marcus what their music made him feel could not be explained in words, and with his new intellect, the white mouse felt a much deeper appreciation for the music of humans, even though they had stuck him in a small, rusty trapping cage that was not meant for a mouse, or at least for one to live in.

The King, who had just finished his fourth serving of rabbit stew, was poking his Brain of Atlantis. With each poke, it would emit a sound or flash a bit of light. “So, you really enjoyed their music, huh?”

The white mouse nodded. “Truly, it was something that made my life bearable.”

The King looked up from his Brain. “Have you considered making music yourself?”

“I can make my own music… What a novel idea!”

Marcus turned to his “brother.” “You certainly can, you can. Music can move hearts and mountains, I believe.”

“That settles it then. I’m going to be a bard!”

“If you’re going to be my bard, you’re going to have to be a damn good one! If you need anything, just say it, and I’ll do my best to provide. You just have to help me become a great king. Do you think you can manage?”

“Yes, Mouse King!” The white mouse stood up and wobbled a bit before dipping into a bow.

“Hey! Don’t be bowing near the fire. I’d hate for my bard to fall into the fire before he had the chance to at least write me one song.”

“What kind of songs do you like?”

The King grinned. “I like songs like this.” He tapped the orb.

Oh, my god. Becky, look at her butt. It is SO big.

The white mouse bit his lip. “I’ll see what I can do.” Just then, an idea hit him. “You want to be a great king, right?”

The King poked the Brain one more time and the music stopped. His smile grew bigger, and he locked his eyes on those of the white mouse.

“Well, you got to look the part! No one is going to think you’re a great king if you don’t dress like one! And I know what we can do...” The white mouse paused, letting the King continue to lean forward in suspense. He would have continued explaining his idea, but the look on the King’s face was something he wanted to enjoy a little more.

“Go on!”

“Well, the wagon that the bard family kept me in has a trunk full of costumes for different roles. Inside it are clothes fit for a king. If we can find that wagon, we can get you a crown and a cape and make you look regal.”

The King clenched his fists and shook. “Oooh, yes! That is a great idea.... uh… We’re going to have to give you a name!” The King jumped up and grabbed his Brain and held it in front of him. The pot and bowls floated in the air and fell into the brown sack. “Come on, Marcus! We got a wagon to find!”

Marcus sighed. “I wasn’t done with my stew, I wasn’t.”

It was amazing that the Brain was able to point the way through all the darkness. The King had been able to locate where the cart was by asking it a few questions and poking it a bit. Once he found a cart that matched Marcus’ descriptions, the Brain told them which direction to head.

“That thing is amazing!”

“It is, right? How about some music to listen to on the road, eh?”

“No, thank you.”

Through woods and plains, the three mice crept. The moon overhead illuminated their path. Moonbeams pierced through branches and blanketed fields. The brilliant stars, too, gave the night a dash of splendor on this cloudless night. After a couple of miles of sneaking and a bit of tumbling and tripping about, they found what they were looking for. The wagon was staying just outside a small collection of single-story houses surrounded by potato fields and sheep farms.

The mice got as close as they could without being caught out in the moonlight by any unwary eyes. Which meant they were hiding in a shoddy fenced-off area with a bunch of sheep. The white mouse didn’t like the look one ram with four horns, two curled and two straight, gave them.

“That’s it! I’m sure of it, I am.”

“Indeed, brother. If memory serves me right, that is where we will find our new clothes.”

Marcus and the white mouse turned around to see the King fidgeting with his Brain, as he did quite often on many of the breaks they had to give the white mouse a chance of catching up. Which happened often.

“Ok, my King, what is the plan?”

The King looked up from his Brain with a big smile. “Well, you two are going to go in there and walk out with the chest. Simple as that.”

“Your Majesty, I don’t think it’s going to be that simple! That chest is probably too heavy for us.”

“And we might be seen, we might.”

The King didn’t falter, and neither did his smile. “It’s alright. I got you covered.” He pulled apart a small fragment of the Brain and handed it to Marcus, then handed another piece to the white mouse.

They looked at their pieces and back to the King. “What is this supposed to do, Your Majesty?”

“You mean you can’t tell? Look again!”

The white mouse looked back down at the piece in his hand. “I don’t see anything. What about you… brother?” The white mouse looked up and saw his brother wasn’t there. “Brother? Where did you go?”

“I’m still here, I am. Where did you go?”

The white mouse looked back to the King. “What sorcery is this?”

The King held his hands together in front of his chest and clapped like a mad mouse. “It worked! Hahaha! It worked! You’re both invisible! I’m learning new tricks every day! Also… you sure you don’t feel any different?”

“No, my king,” came Marcus’ voice from emptiness.

The King crossed his arms. “Are you sure? Try to pick up one of these sheep.”

There was a slight pause. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, I don’t.”

“Nonsense!” The King turned to where the white mouse stood. “Hey, Whitey, you try it out.”

The white mouse looked back at the ram. “I’m going to have to listen to brother on this one.”

The King groaned and rolled his eyes. “Fine. You two should also be much stronger than you were before. Carrying that trunk full of clothes shouldn’t be too much trouble for you to bring out here.” He thrusted out his chest and pointed at the wagon. “So, here is your first job: Go in there and get me that trunk! Understood?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” both brothers said before climbing under the fence and making their way to the wagon. The only sign of their presence was the bending of grass under their feet.

The King smiled. “This is going to be great. I’m going to be great!” He turned around and was face to face with a snorting ram. “What are you looking at?”

The white mouse and Marcus crept up to the wagon, which itself was a challenge. Being invisible and sharing a similar destination made it very likely they would trip over each other, which they did. Luckily for them, the humans had all gathered together in the largest of houses, which was alive with lights and laughter. A quick glance into the wagon showed its residents had also become guests of the lighthearted liberations at the lodgings of the leisuring locals after a long, listless, laboring day: letting loose lambent lyrics and limericks lamenting languishes like laggards, leechers, and lollygaggers, while lavishing liquors in libation and celebration of love, life, and luck.

The brothers were in a hurry to get the chest and get out while all that silliness was going on, if they wouldn’t stop tripping over each other.

“Ow! Brother, that is my tail, it is.”

“Pardon me, but if you wouldn’t stop every few steps, we wouldn’t bump into each other so much.”

“Just walk beside me.”

“I thought I was!”

“The King is brilliant, but he lacks foresight, he does.”

“Whatever, the chest is over there in the corner.”

“Great! You take that side, brother, and I’ll take the other, I will.”

“Which side? You know I can’t see if you’re pointing.”

The sound of a facepalm echoed in the wagon.

“Fine. You take the side close to the bed, and I’ll take the farthest side, I will.”

The sounds of footsteps echoed in the empty wagon as the white mouse came to his side of the trunk. “There’s not enough room for me to get both hands underneath the trunk. I’m gonna scoot it over a little and…”

With a jerk, the trunk shifted over until it hit a bump.

“HNNNNGH! Brother, my foot!”

“Oh lord! Sorry.”

After a bit more rustling about, the two finally got the trunk lined up with the door. Now it was only a matter of lifting it straight up and walking straight out of the wagon. So there was still plenty of room left for screwups.

“OK, on the count of three, we lift, we do.”

“Alright.”

“1… 2… 3!”

The trunk lifted up, suspended only by invisible three-foot-tall mice. The two brothers eased their way through the dark wagon. Until the white mouse stepped on something. A loud screech pierced the silence.

“MYAAAAAAAARRRR!”

The white mouse dropped his half of the trunk.

“GGGGRRRRRNNNNNNGGG! FFFFFFFFFOOOOOOT!”

The white mouse didn’t respond; instead, his eyes focused on the yowling creature before him. An orange tabby glared at the emptiness in its blue eyes that shone in the darkness. Oh happy day, a chance for revenge.

The white mouse reached down and grabbed the startled tabby by the scruff of the neck and held it up for his brother to see, wherever he may have limped off to to deal with his latest injury. “Take a look, brother! This is the ferocious beast that almost made a snack of little ol’ me. Time for a little payback.”

The cat mewled and wiggled; it dangled helplessly in the white mouse’s grip.

“Are you sure you want to torment the thing, brother? It was a creature just like you and me and only did what came natural, it did. Would abusing our newfound power really make you feel better, would it? Perhaps it would be better to let go and let live, it would.”

The white mouse stopped his grinning. Wherever Marcus was, he could feel the disappointment in his eyes bore into his soul, even if he couldn’t see them. With a swing of his arm, he tossed the cat out an open window. “Whatever, let’s just get this over with.”

The two brothers stumbled out into the darkness with the chest in tow.

The two brothers made it out to the pen where they had left their king, but not before tripping over each other’s tails a few times. When they got there, a few things were a bit different than when they left.

“My King, why are you covered in mud, are you?”

“And what is that god-awful smell?”

The King smiled. “Well, I learned that if you are going to cook mutton, you got to skin it first.”

“So… that smell is…”

“Right! Burnt ram hide.”

“My King, a good king doesn’t go about cooking the livestock of his people, he doesn’t.”

The King waved it off in the direction Marcus’ voice had come from. “Ah, it’s alright. I’ll be sure to pay the farmer back. Plus, I’ve never had mutton before.” He pointed to a smoking, charred pile of ram. “Somebody pick that up. I’m sure the stink is going to be attracting some of the people out soon.”

The white mouse dropped his end of the trunk. “Surely, you can’t be serious.”

“I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley. Speaking of which, you still need a name, don’cha?”

The King turned as an invisible finger tapped his shoulder. “My King, now isn’t a good time, it isn’t. Perhaps we should first…”

“You are right, Marcus! Shirley, grab our dinner! We are heading back off to the woods!” With his command complete, the King turned tail and ran off to the dark woods.

“Shirley” groaned and turned to where his brother stood, still lifting up one side of the trunk. “How is what he did with this ram any different that what I was going to do with the cat?”

“Well, for one, we are going to be eating that, we are. And two, he didn’t make it suffer. I think.”

Back in the woods, in a small clearing illuminated by a floating, glowing orb, the King and “Shirley” were going through their first haul while Marcus worked with dinner over a bonfire. He had managed to salvage much of the mutton for a spit roast.

“Shirley” pulled out a crown and handed it to the King. “Here you are, Your Majesty. A crown, like the ones kings wear.”

The King took the crown and stared at it for a while, his twitchy smile and frequent blinking indicating just how truly happy he was. “Ahaha! Yes!” He placed it on his head and threw out his chest. “I am now one step closer to being a great king! Thank you, Shirley.”

The white mouse groaned, but he’d rather put up with that than see the King get all emotional and hug him. He was still covered with mud and what smelled like sheep dung. The white mouse planned to convince the King to wash next. But one thing at a time. “Well, it looks like a crown, but I think it is just some painted wood and some cheap fabric. A real king would have a crown made of gold and jewels.”

“Now, that ain’t true! What makes a real King is not the crown on his head, but the head under the crown.”

The white mouse raised a finger to correct the mud-and-sheep-poop-covered king, but when he opened his mouth, he found no words. To escape the awful lack of comebacks, the white mouse dug around through the trunk again until he pulled out a large, brown tricorn hat.

He inspected it in the firelight and the Brainlight: it was nice, but it didn’t seem to fit the white mouse’s taste. The large red feather on the left side was very bold, but the brown, earthy color it had and the rough leather texture didn’t exactly fit with the image he wanted to go for. The white mouse looked back at Marcus and his now-once-again visible, scarred, and quite literally bony head. The white mouse walked up to Marcus and bit his lip.

“Brother?... Marcus?”

“Yes, brother?” Marcus turned around from the fire.

The white mouse tightened his grip on the hat and fought the urge to look away from his brother. “Perhaps… this hat would be to your liking?”

Marcus took the hat and inspected it. Sweat formed on the white mouse’s brow as he waited for a response, and when Marcus looked up from the hat, the white mouse was shocked by Marcus’ warm smile. “Thank you, brother. I will treasure it forever, I will.” He put on the large on his head; it weighed down on his ears and fell over his eye onto the bridge of his nose. “It may need to be adjusted, it might, but it’s great, it is. You’ve given me so much, brother, you have.”

The white mouse let out a breath he held, relieved that his brother wasn’t offended by the gift. “Well…” A pat on the back turned his attention back to the King.

“Now, since you’ve gotten us this wonderful trunk of treasures here,” --The King placed his hand on the trunk of clothes-- “I think it’s time that we get you a name! Unless, you’re okay with Shirley.”

“No!”

The King raised a hand and the orb floated down to him. With a few quick presses, a list of names came up. “Well, then. Here is a list of common names.”

The word “common” made the white mouse cringe. If it was to be his name, it should be something suitable for a great bard.

“...Or, we can give it some suggestions and it will give us a name.”

The white mouse turned to his brother,. “Brother, how did you come up with the name Marcus?”

Marcus smiled. “Well, when the King told me how he saved my life, he used the phrase ‘On the mark.’ Mark was a name listed, but I liked Marcus better, I did.”

“So, suggestions. That… might work.”

The King plopped down on his butt next to the white mouse and pulled the Brain closer. After poking it a few times, he looked up at the white mouse. “Ok, buddy, let’s here some stuff about’cha!”

The white mouse cleared his throat. “Well, where do I begin? I was but a humble mouse, who by great fortune escaped the jaws of death and was kept high and neat in a cage. Fate had seen it fitting to throw normalcy out the window and bestow upon me a life that no other mouse before us may have known. I am heading for greatness, and I shall…”

“Oh! Here’s a good one!”

His soliloquy interrupted, the white mouse looked at the orb, which the King held inches from his face. On the orb was a list of names, all starting with ‘H’, but the one at the center was written much larger and had text below describing it:

Hauteclaire

Language: French

Origin: The name of the sword of Olivier, one of the twelve peers of Charlemagne.

Famous for its crystal-embedded, golden hilt worth a great fortune.

Meaning: High and neat

The white mouse rolled both Olivier and Hauteclaire over his tongue. Certainly, both names were fantastic, and both felt good on his tongue, but he wanted a name that would really stick out. He looked up at the King. “Are the names ‘Hauteclaire’ and ‘Olivier’ common?”

The King pulled the orb back in front of his face and poked it several times before looking back up. “‘Olivier’ is a common French name while ‘Hauteclaire’ has only one recorded instance of use.”

“What about Charlemagne?”

The King poked the orb a few times. “Charlemagne has two instances, one of which is a legendary king.”

Hmmm. If I chose Charlemagne, it would be much more difficult to stand out…

The white mouse leaned back on the trunk and looked up to the starry sky. Why was he thinking about it? He had already made up his mind. One of those names was made for him. High and neat, huh? Great fortune?

The white mouse looked back down at the King and smiled.

“You may call me Hauteclaire.”

“Hauteclaire? Um, Hauteclaire?”

“Hauteclaire! We’re calling you! Hauteclaire!”

“WHAT!?”

In front of Hauteclaire was Pinkie, much too close for his comfort. Behind her, Hauteclaire could see Rarity and Marcus both staring at him as well.

“Marcus was just telling us how you used to be chubby when you two met. You must have been a cute little chubby-wubby, rolly-polly mousy-wousy!”

Rarity cleared her throat. “I thought it was rather touching that you shared your food with him. That was really generous of you, and I should know. I got a little teary eyed when I learned that mice call each other brothers and sisters. I never knew mice did that."

“Yeah! She was bawling like Pumpkin or Pound when they get gassy. She also used up a whole box of tissues when Marcus said his hat was a gift from you! See?” Pinkie pointed at a trashbin behind a blushing Rarity overflowing with used tissues, which Rarity tried to conceal with a slight shift of her tail.

Hauteclaire shook his head. He let his long nose smack Pinkie’s short snout. “Oh… you don’t say.”

Pinkie took a step back. “Do you do that whole ‘spacing-out’ thing often? You’ve done that with Lyra and Spike before! Do you know that when you do that, you tend to leave your mouth open? I can smell the apples on your breath.”

Hauteclaire snapped his mouth shut, and his teeth clunked together inside his head. Pinkie chortled and Rarity tittered.

Haha, very funny.

A cough from Marcus got everyone’s attention. “Ok, so the emplumeus was a success, it was. So let’s try our next dish, let us. How about… vermicelli?”

Pinkie hopped in place. “Alright! I have no idea what that is!”

Author's Note

Alright! So the food is being decided for the royal dinner coming up!

What about the music? Stay tuned same Pony-Time, same Pony-channel!