Beyond the mice, a few of Ariel’s sisters (Ben could never remember which was which, especially as their names all started with A) and Flounder splashed along in their own copper bathtub, wheeled in by a very unhappy Cogsworth, who grimaced every time the slightest bit of water sloshed over the edge.
“Mind the splashing, please! I only just had this floor mopped. You do know this isn’t a beach resort, do you not? Precisely. It’s a council meeting. A rrrrroyal council,” the former clock trumpeted, rolling his r’s with great fanfare. Andrina—or was it Adella?—only laughed and flicked him with her great, wet fins.
Rounding out the other side of the table were the three “good” fairies, Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather, looking apple-cheeked and cheery in their green, red, and blue hats and capes, seated next to the famed blue Genie of Agrabah. They were comparing vacation notes. The fairies were partial to the forest meadows while the genie preferred the vast deserts.
“I guess we should get started?” Ben ventured, clearing his throat.
No one seemed to hear him. The mice roared with laughter, falling onto their backs and rolling across the Auradonian law book. Even Pongo and Perdita of the freed De Vil Dalmatian contingent joined in the laughter with a little lively barking. All told, it was a friendly group, or so it seemed. Ben began to relax.
And why shouldn’t he? Unlike the infamous villains trapped on the Isle of the Lost, the good citizens of Auradon looked as if the last twenty years hadn’t aged them one bit. Ben had to admit it: every one of the royal councilors looked just like they had in the photographs he had studied of the founding of Auradon. The mice were still small and cute, the Dalmatians sleek and handsome. The mermaids—whatever their names—remained as fresh as water lilies, and the good fairies burst with good health. Even the infamous Genie of Agrabah had toned down his usual hyper-manic performance. Dopey was still his mute, charming self, and while Doc may have had a few more white hairs than before in his beard, Grumpy looked almost cheerful.
Except for one thing—
“What—no cream cakes?” Grumpy grabbed a sugar cookie, glaring at the plate.
“It’s a meeting, not a party,” Doc said, harrumphing.
“Well, it’s certainly not a party now,” Grumpy said, examining a cookie. “There isn’t even a currant or a chocolate chip? What, are we discussing budget problems today?”
“As I was saying,” Ben interrupted, moving the plate of cookies away from Grumpy, “welcome, welcome, everyone. I hereby declare this meeting of the King’s Council officially open. Shall we begin?” asked Ben.
Heads nodded around the table.
Ben glanced down at the notecards he had hidden beneath his right hand. Hopefully, he was doing this correctly.
He coughed. “Excellent. Well, then.”
“Don’t we need to wait for your dad, kid?” Genie asked, putting his feet up on the table. Now that magic was discouraged in Auradon, the genie had taken physical form and was no longer a floating cloud.
“Yeah. Where’s King Beast?” Flounder piped up.
“Isn’t your father joining us today, Ben?” Perdita asked, gently.
Color crept into Ben’s face. “No, sorry. My dad—I mean, King Beast—has uh, asked me to run the meeting this morning.”
Everyone stared. The mice sat up. Grumpy let the cookie drop.
“Anyway.” Ben cleared his throat and tried to affect a confidence he did not feel. “On to business.” He was stalling.
He looked at the stack of papers in front of him. Petitions and letters and applications and motions, from sidekicks from every corner of the kingdom…
Show them who is king. That’s what my father said.
He tried again. “In my role as future king of Auradon, I’ve studied your petitions, and while I appreciate your suggestions, I’m afraid that…”
“Our petitions? Are you talking about the Sidekicks Act?” Grumpy sounded annoyed.
“Er, yes, I’m afraid that we cannot recommend granting these petitions as…”
“Who’s we?” asked Mary.
Dopey looked confused.
“I guess, I mean me? What I mean to say is, I’ve taken your suggestions for change but it doesn’t look like they can be approved as…”
One of the mermaids tilted her head. “Not approved? Why not?”
Ben became flustered. “Well, because I…”
Doc shook his head. “I’m sorry, son, but have you ever even set foot outside this castle? What do you know about the whole kingdom? For instance, our goblin cousins on the Isle of the Lost would like forgiveness—they’ve been exiled for a long time.”
All around the table, the councilors began to murmur in low tones. Ben knew the meeting had taken a turn for the worse, and he desperately began to review his options. There was nothing on his notecards about what to do in the case of council revolt.
One. What would my dad do?
Two. What would my mom do?