Summary: Parent Trap AU. Huey, Dewey and Louie were raised separately, believing that they were only children for twelve years. When fate reunites them at a camp, they realize that they are triplets and that they know very little about their family history. Determined to reunite Donald, Scrooge and Gladstone and make their family whole again, as well as find out what happened to their mother, the triplets decide to switch places.
Chapter Rating: T (mild violence and character death)
Note: Inspired by @adamarinayu Family Trap AU, which I highly suggest you check out.
The snowmobiles churned through the mounds of white powder, two black dots against the barren landscape. Donald hunched his body against the wind, wrapping his wings tightly around Della’s waist as she maneuvered their vehicle over the bumpy, treacherous terrain. He squinted through his goggles but all he could see was a swirling mass of white, the back of the snowmobile ahead barely visible.
“This is stupid!” he cried. “Can’t we go back?”
“No way!” exclaimed Della, barely heard above the roaring wind. She turned around to flash him a quick grin. “We’re already this far. Besides, we’ve been searching for this crystal for months and it’s finally within reach!”
“I wouldn’t call an ice cavern deep within Antarctica within reach,” returned Donald, flinching as the snowmobile went airborne for a second, leaping off a slope.
“We’ll be there soon, Donnie! Stop worrying!”
A few feet ahead, Scrooge and Gladstone were leading the way, following the map to the supposed ice cavern that would hold the item they’ve been desiring. Gladstone stared at the worn, frayed piece of parchment, at the black markings and landmarks that were meant to guide them to their target. He glanced up, relieved to finally see three tall rock pillars which formed the shape of a triangle ahead of them.
Scrooge slowed the vehicle to a stop near the formation and Della and Donald joined them a few seconds later. They huddled together over the map, the wind rushing past them and rustling the hoods secured to their heads. Squinting at the vertical, frost-covered stones, Donald scowled. “This is the entrance? It’s just a bunch of rocks!”
“Yeah, because we’ve never gone through secret hidden entrances to mystical chambers before,” drawled Gladstone.
“It does nae say how tae access the entrance,” said Scrooge, ducking his chin to keep the wind from slapping his face. “But we’re in the right spot. The snow has been gettin’ stronger the closer we’ve gotten tae this area.”
Della went to inspect the seemingly plain pillars, humming thoughtfully under her breath. “Well…these are in the shape of a triangle. And the crystal is supposed to look a prism, right? So what if…”
She trailed off and gave the pillar closest to her a hard shove. Putting all the strength she had into her wings, the pillar slowly began to budge, tipping forwards bit by bit. Soon the stone was positioned at an angle, where it refused to move further.
Scrooge’s eyes widened and he exclaimed, “Well done lass! Lads, get the others! Form a prism with the stones!”
“Uh, yeah, I don’t do heavy lifting,” said Gladstone, flipping the end of his dark green scarf over his neck. “Come on, Uncle McDunkle, you know this.”
Glaring at him, Scrooge snapped, “If ye do nae want tae help, why do ye always come with us?”
“Excuse me?” said Gladstone, offended. “It was me who got the map in the first place and every other secret key you ever needed to find your magic treasures.”
“By dumb luck,” said Donald sourly. “Like everything you do. Pure dumb luck, no effort involved.”
“Aw, don’t sound so jealous, cuz. It’s not my fault I was born awesome.”
“Stop bickering you two and let’s do this!” shouted Della, excitement building within her at the prospect of solving yet another mystery. Without waiting for her relatives to respond, she raced over to the next pillar.
Donald let out a sigh and went to the last one. Together the twins finished constructing the prism while Gladstone and Scrooge watched. Once the tips of the stones connected, there was a brilliant flash of blue-white light and the ground in the middle the prism started to shake. The ice cracked apart, slowly parting to reveal a set of clear crystal steps, leading to a dark chamber.
Smirking, Gladstone rolled up the map and stuck it inside his winter jacket. “You’re welcome.”
Scrooge removed a flashlight from his pack and started down the steps. Della eagerly followed after him and Gladstone trailed behind her. Donald reluctantly followed after them, peering through the transparent steps. His heart lurched into his throat at the depth of the chamber.
Donald squawked and jumped. When the flash of fright passed, he sent a glare at Gladstone, who grinned at him. At Della’s giggling, the frazzled duck muttered, “Not funny.”
They reached the bottom of the stairwell and found themselves facing three tunnels to choose from. “It can never be easy, can it?” grumbled Donald, stretching his wings to work the chill from his bones.
“It wouldn’t be much fun if it was,” said Della optimistically.
“Does the map say anythin’ else, lad?” Scrooge directed at Gladstone.
“If it did, I wouldn’t have put it away,” said Gladstone pointedly. “I’m not Double D.”
“Honestly,” sighed Della, snagging her brother by the back of his jacket as he made to lunge at their cousin. “You two always have to bicker.” She paused for a second before admitting, “Though he does have a point.”
Donald sent her an offended expression while Gladstone grinned and slung a wing over her shoulders. “Once again proving you’re my favourite cousin, Dels.”
“Stop foolin’ around,” ordered Scrooge, shooting a quick, reprimanding glare at his niece and nephews. When they settled, he peered intently down each tunnel, though it was useless, as his flashlight barely illuminated much ground ahead of them. “We’ll have tae split up.”
Donald’s loud cry of “No!” was expected, but Gladstone’s sharp, “That’s not a good idea,” was surprising.
Della crossed her wings over her chest, amused. “Nice to see you two agreeing. That certainly doesn’t happen often.”
Donald sent Gladstone a curious glance. His cousin never cared about splitting off to go exploring, because he didn’t have to worry. His supernatural luck was his protection. Bad things rarely happened to Gladstone.
But there was a sudden, stinging sensation in the goose’s gut, and it was ominous and uncomfortable and rather alarming. Gladstone kept his expression cool, not wanting his sudden emotional surge to show. “I just think it would be better if we stuck together. Who knows how long these tunnels go for? Don could get lost.”
“Very funny,” muttered Donald, though he was grateful to have Gladstone on his side.
“Nonsense,” dismissed Scrooge. He rummaged through his pack and came out with three different coloured markers. He handed the green one to Gladstone and the blue one to Donald, keeping the red one for himself. “Mark your path with this.”
Donald reached out and made a quick slash on the smooth, glittering wall. The blue stood out boldly, and didn’t disappear when he rubbed against it. “What about Della?” he asked, not missing her lack of marker.
“I’ll go with Uncle Scrooge,” she offered. “Someone really should be there to reign him in.”
“I do nae think ye are the right one for that job, lassie,” said Scrooge, regarding the girl with a raised brow but unable to keep the affection from his voice.
“Hey, I know my limits! More so than you, anyway.”
“You won’t leave his side?” said Donald suspiciously.
“Promise,” said Della, placing her wing over her heart.
“Relax, lad. I always keep her safe, do I nae?”
“Okay,” said Donald reluctantly, knowing it was useless to argue when the two agreed.
Gladstone hesitated, the twisted knots in his gut only tightening. “I don’t know.”
“Since when are you a Nervous Nellie?” asked Della with a laugh, playfully punching him in the shoulder.
“Ouch! Fine, whatever!” Gladstone threw his arms up and picked a random tunnel, uncapping his marker and making a line on the wall. “We’ll see how generous I am when I find the crystal first!”
“Here we go,” sighed Donald, starting down the middle tunnel.
“Come on, Uncle Scrooge! I’ve got a good feeling about this one!”
Gladstone made his way down his tunnel, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. His marker scratched sloppily against the wall, making a wavy line as he progressed. He paused at a fork in his path and before he went to turn left on instinct, there was a loud buzzing that sent vibrations through the chamber, causing the ceiling to rattle and chunks of ice to be dislodged.
Aware that this was a man-made sound and not a force of nature, Gladstone hastily retraced his steps to investigate. As he rounded the corner he came beak-to-nose with a wolf dressed in thick black gear. His webbed foot hit a snag in the floor and Gladstone went down just as the stranger went to punch. His fist cracked against the wall, a sickening crunching sound echoing through the tunnel and he howled in pain.
Gladstone was up and running in a second. He cursed the lack of radio to warn his relatives and kept running. He encountered two more assailants near the entrance to the chamber, but as the pair started towards him they slipped on the ice and clunked heads, immediately falling unconscious.
Gladstone stumbled outside, the roaring snow immediately engulfing him. He cupped his wings around his goggles and looked around frantically, the ground still buzzing beneath his feet, getting more intense by the second. His eyes locked on massive metal drill a distance away from the stone pillars, drilling ruthlessly into the ice.
He spun around, about to sprint back into the tunnel, but only found himself falling into the snow as a solid form crashed into him. Donald hastily stood up, eyes locking on the machinery attempting to pierce through the thick layer of ice.
“I’m going to find Della and Uncle Scrooge!” he said, grabbing Gladstone by the wing and helping him to his feet. “You go stop that thing!”
Donald raced back down the steps and Gladstone froze, the cold, bitter wind assaulting from all sides as he struggled to think of his next move. He could stop the machine, there was no doubt about that. But even from his viewpoint he could see the sizable cracks forming, snaking across the surface, and he felt the shaking of the land as it grew increasingly unstable. The ice trembled beneath him and Gladstone knew that a cave-in was inevitable, whether or not he stopped the hostile forces.
His family was out of his protective bubble. If he was above ground while the stability collapsed, he wouldn’t be able to save them.
The sick feeling in his gut only intensifying at the thought, Gladstone ran as fast as he could back into the ice chamber.
“Don! Dels! Uncle Scrooge! Where are you?”
Della and Scrooge reached a long, rectangular cavern, where sharp ice spikes covered the floor. At the very end was an intricate pedestal which bore an ornate wooden chest. With a wide grin, Della exclaimed, “That has to be it!”
“We just have tae get over there,” said Scrooge, eyeing the room with a critical eye. “Lass, do ye have your rope?”
Della lifted the item along with a hook out of her pack. With precise movement, she swung the hook to latch onto an outcropping of frost-covered rock jutting out from the ceiling on the other side. She tied her end of the rope to the nearest spike.
Della went first, slowly inching her way down the line. Scrooge was about to follow after her when a shout of, “There they are!” grabbed his attention.
Whipping around, his eyes narrowed at the bulky bulldog and bear storming out of the tunnel towards them. Della started to flip around, intent on helping her uncle, but Scrooge called, “Keep goin’ lass! Ah can spot Glomgold’s goons a mile away. Get that crystal!”
With urgency Della started to crawl along the rope. Wielding his cane, Scrooge dodged the first punch and tripped the bear, who came at him first. While he was on the ground, he raised his cane and whacked him over the head with a strength unexpected for a duck his age, rendering him unconscious. The second goon grabbed him from behind, but Scrooge wrenched his body downwards, forcing his attacker to flip over him and land head-first on the hard ground, cracking his skull.
“Uncle Scrooge! Are you okay?”
“Perfectly fine!” answered Scrooge, taking a quick glance to see how his niece was faring. She was more than halfway towards the chest. With a furrowed brow he poked at the still bulldog lying at his feet. “Though Ah must say, Ah’ve never known Flinty to be so…lackluster in his plans tae thwart me.”
There was a sudden shaking as the cavern began to tremble. Scrooge jumped backwards as large cracks appeared in the ceiling, leaking in sunlight from above. Chunks of ice began to fall, shattering the spikes beneath into mere splinters. Holes began to open up in the floor, revealing an inky black depth, where Scrooge could distantly hear the sound of rushing water.
“I see it, Uncle Scrooge! I’m almost there!”
Focussed on the treasure within her grasp, Della strained for it. She yelped as a rock narrowly missed striking her in the head. Heart in throat, she forced her limbs to stop shaking and reached for the chest once more.
“Della, come back at once!” ordered Scrooge, terror beginning to rise as the ice ceiling above Della started to split apart.
It was then Donald appeared, stumbling to halt next to Scrooge, breathing heavily. He caught sight of his sister and he screamed, “Della! What the heck are you doing? We need to get out of here!”
“We’re this close! I almost have it!”
“Della, please, we have to go!”
“Not yet! McDucks don’t quit!”
Donald went for the rope, intent on grabbing his sister himself, but Scrooge restrained him. “The rope is no longer stable enough tae support two of ye!” he said.
“I don’t care! I have to get her!”
As Donald struggled in his uncle’s grasp, Gladstone hurried into the room, feathers askew and out of breath. “What the heck are you people doing?”
“What are you doing?” returned Donald, horrified. “You were supposed to stop the machine!”
Scrooge’s spine straightened with dread. “What machine?” he demanded, though he already had a good idea of what the answer would be.
No one got a chance to explain, for just as Della grabbed hold of the chest the ceiling split apart, creating a giant crevice down the middle. After their vision adjusted to the abrupt burst of sunlight, they could see Flintheart standing atop the ledge, a wide grin on his beak.
“Aha! I got ye nao, McDuck! On the first try, too! Bless modern technology!”
“Glomgold!” snarled Scrooge. “What do ye think you’re doin’?”
“Claiming that crystal! The energy it provides will bring me a flood of money, and Ah’ll finally be richer than ye!”
One goon lowered through the gap on a rope, straight for Della. Eyes narrowing, Della hissed, “I don’t think so!”
With all the strength she had she whipped the chest across the cavern, so it clattered at Scrooge’s feet. He picked it up and watched desperately as Della hung above the crumbling floor. “Lass, ye need tae move!”
Della started to wiggle her way back down the rope, the goon pursuing her. But they did not get far, for there was a giant cracking noise and Flintheart let out a shout, scrambling backwards as the ice began to cave in completely.
What happened next was a series of consecutive events that blurred together, colours mixing with sounds. The cry of the goon as the ice under his hook displaced, sending him tumbling straight to one of the few fully formed spikes below. The screeching of metal as the drill was swallowed by the hole, creating yet another avalanche of ice and snow. Donald, Scrooge and Gladstone screaming as the rope gave way, leaving Della to plunge into the dark abyss with a terrified, haunting shriek. Donald charged forwards, ready to follow his twin into the depths, but Gladstone grabbed hold of his coat, pulling him back, just as a tremendous rush of wind exploded behind them. blowing them upwards and through the ice along with a geyser of snow.
For a while, there was silence. Donald, Scrooge and Gladstone lay in the snow, still with shock. Donald was the first to react with a scream of pure grief and agony which echoed in the artic wind. Scrooge clutched the wooden chest, body shaking with silent sobs as the realization of what had just happened struck him. Gladstone swore loudly and viciously, cursing Glomgold with everything he had as tears trailed down his cheeks.
Why¸ why couldn’t he control his luck? Why couldn’t it have saved Della?
Incoherent with rage and despair, Scrooge and Gladstone had to drag Donald to their snowmobiles. The two vehicles managed to remain unscathed by the chaos. The stairwell was now closed in, blocked by snow. With a tremulous voice Scrooge radioed for help.
It took three days to recover Della’s body. Donald, Scrooge and Gladstone remained in the freezing atmosphere, refusing to leave without her. None of them spoke with each other, cold anger and resentment simmering beneath their stony facade. They kept it reigned it for the sake of Della, for she did not deserve to be surrounded by anger as they bid her farewell from life.
It was after the funeral when the fallout happened.
“This is all your fault!” screamed Donald, shaking with fury, glowering at his uncle who sat stiffly behind his desk. “Why didn’t you go after her?”
“What would that have accomplished?” demanded Scrooge. “Ah had Glomgold’s goons pursuin’ us. If Ah did nae stop them they would have cut the rope themselves! Why did ye nae warn me aboot Glomgold’s plan from the start?”
“I didn’t think I needed to!” Whirling with a ferocious glare at Gladstone, he snarled, “Someone was supposed to put a stop to the machine!”
“What good would that have done?” hissed Gladstone. “Maybe I could have disabled the drill. But that ice already took damage! If I didn’t come down there, all of you would been lost!”
“I though you couldn’t control your luck,” said Donald scornfully. “How could you possibly know you would have been able to save us?”
“I don’t know how it works, I just have guesses,” said Gladstone tightly. “When you’re in my immediate vicinity, my luck covers you, so long as I will it.”
“Guess your will wasn’t strong enough for Della. So much for her being your favourite cousin. But then again, you never cared about anyone but yourself.”
The punch came before Donald was prepared for it, sending him flying across the carpeted floor. Donald sprang to his feet and launched at Gladstone with a wild cry. Scrooge hastily got up from his chair and intervened, forcing himself between his brawling nephews.
“Stop it!” he ordered, trying to keep his voice steady. “This is ridiculous!”
“No,” said Donald shakily. “What’s ridiculous is that I lost my sister. Because she took your lesson to heart. When you’ve gone so far, never turn back, no matter how hard the road ahead is. Look where it got her.”
“Do nae blame me,” said Scrooge angrily. “Ah told her tae come back. She did nae listen.”
“Probably because she knew how you’d react when she returned without the treasure,” said Gladstone bitterly.
“You’ve never given us a reason to think otherwise,” interrupted Gladstone. “The time Donald lost the gold lamp in the river escaping from crocodiles? You gave him the silent treatment for three days. The time Della dropped the sacred jewel down the mountain to keep her foothold steady? You were mad at her for a week.”
Scrooge went silent for a minute, slowly lowering his wings. “The problem with ye lot is that ye never listen,” he said at last, voice cold.
“We never listen?” cried Gladstone. “That’s rich coming from you!”
“Like you’re one to talk,” hissed Donald.
Their arguments overlapped, resentment and anger rising above their grief as they pinned blame on one another. They only stopped when a knock came on the thick wooden door and a lawyer along with a Child Services worker entered.
The sight of them sent the trio into silence. Immense guilt swelling in Donald’s chest, he immediately went to where three eggs lay snug in a stroller. He knelt next to them and he whispered, so only they could hear, “I’m sorry.”
He hoped they couldn’t feel the negative energy in the room. They had already lost their mother, they deserved a happy life from here on out. But as the reality descended upon him, Donald screwed his eyes shut. He wouldn’t be able to give them the life they deserved, not with in his income. But it would destroy him if he had to give all three of them up.
Della had not left explicit instructions on what should happen to her sons if something befell her. She didn’t think she needed to, given that she was young and fit. With their parents gone, it left Donald as her closest living relative, and therefore the first choice for guardianship.
“I don’t…of course I want them,” he said helplessly, feeling tears gather in his eyes. “But I just can’t afford to take care of all three of them.”
“Ah can help—” began Scrooge, but Donald cut him off.
“I don’t want your money. You’ve done enough.”
Scrooge bristled at that, but even as anger flashed through him, he couldn’t miss the devastation on Donald’s features. Neither did Gladstone. Crossing his wings over his chest, he looked away and said tightly, “If you can’t raise all of them, you can at least raise one.”
Donald shifted his gaze to look at Gladstone, eyes narrowing. “You mean split them up?”
“If you won’t accept Uncle Scrooge’s money and I know you won’t accept my lucky influence, then you really have two choices. Raise one or let one of us raise all three.”
Gladstone knew Donald wouldn’t accept the second option. The duck had already made his decision not to have anything to do with them. Gladstone didn’t blame him, for he was eager to leave as soon as possible and not come back, for if he had to stay in this environment any longer his emotions were going to strangle him. And he couldn’t forgive Scrooge and Donald for their decisions, for their behaviour. It was much easier to live with himself when he could pin responsibility for the tragedy on them.
Donald seemed aghast by the idea, though nothing about this was ideal. He scrubbed a wing down his beak, staring at the eggs. The notion of splitting the triplets up made him feel horrible. But not being able to raise even one of them made him feel worse. He knew that made him selfish, but he needed this.
“On one condition,” he said at last, voice shaking. “You treat them right. You keep them safe. You give them the life they deserve.”
Scrooge gave a short nod. Huffing out a shaky breath, suddenly realizing what he was committing to but refusing to back away now, Gladstone said, “All right then. We’ll each raise one.”
It wouldn’t make much sense for Donald to take an egg and Scrooge to take the other two. Though nothing about this was fair, they knew they couldn’t keep one triplet separated while the other two grew up together. Gladstone knew nothing about raising kids, but for once, he was more than willing to make the effort.
The documents were made up and soon enough they were finalized. Donald and Gladstone went their separate ways, Donald to the coast and Gladstone to Las Vegas, and Scrooge remained in Duckburg.
