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Daisy supposed she ought to thank Mickey. Now that he was around, she had a lot more free time on her hands, since the princess delighted in having alone time with her little hero whenever possible. Sometimes she almost felt sorry for the boy, knowing that any moment now he could be pounced on by the petite princess, rather unused to such strong affections. Though, she supposed, she understood how he felt. There were a lot of things Daisy was unused to, now- a-days.

Take now, for instance. With her free time, Daisy had decided to go through the gardens, trying to find something to settle her boredom with, and instead, in a small clearing, came across another musketeer. There stood Donald Duck, jabbing his blade at a tree, grunting and mumbling as bits of bark came by. It wasn't the sight that Daisy wasn't used to, though it was an odd one. What was unusual was that this commoner, this fowl tempered being, was her boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Just the sheer thought of the word made her cheeks tint, as embarrassing as that was. They weren't as intimate and passionate as her highness and her beau – but then, really, who could compare to those two? – but they had still managed to form a rather comfortable relationship. Despite his cowardice, temper, and commoner status, she had managed to find respectable qualities about him. He was loyal, obedient, kind, and, though she was often loathe to admit it, very handsome. The hurdles in their relationship mostly came from her end, though she would be the last one to say so. A lady-in-waiting, a high society woman, and a commoner! A commoner!

… A handsome commoner, a commoner who always managed to make her smile, a commoner who made her feel happy and pretty and who she couldn't imagine living without, but a commoner all the same.

Also, right now, he was a commoner who was using his sword all wrong, now that she focused on what she was seeing. She assumed he was using the tree as target practice for his blade, and if that was the case, he was doing it awfully. Frowning, she took it upon herself to make herself known, clearing her throat and entering the clearing. "Donald?"

A startled squawk escaped the boy, and he dropped his sword in surprise. Already he was blushing, an adorable trait to the lady, but she ignored it for the sake of the task at hand. She made her way over to the fallen weapon, and picked it up. "Honestly, who taught you how to handle a blade?"

Donald, who for some reason was now trying to cover where he had nicked the tree by placing his body in front of it, easily replied. "Nobody." Meeting Daisy's skeptical look, he nervously tried to explain. "Well… it's like we said… we were just janitors, then all of a sudden, Captain Pete gave us the uniforms and the swords and said we were musketeers."

"I remember." She said bitterly, fingering the handle on the sword. Just the mere mention of the former captain's name was enough to make her blood boil, but this was neither the time nor the place for a temper tantrum. "Still, it's about high time you learned. Come here, I'll show you a few things."

Now it was Donald's turn to be the skeptical one, though he was inching forward at least. "You're going to teach me?"

"My father was a master at the blade." Daisy rolled her shoulders, preparing herself. "He didn't teach me, but I would often go after him and watch him." When Donald was close enough, she placed the sword in his hands. "First off, your posture is all wrong."

"My pos-" Donald had just about to question such a silly notion, when suddenly her hands were on top of his, and his mind blanked. He was sure she was saying something about the proper grip and flexing fingers, but for the life of him, he couldn't hear her. All that consumed him was the fact that a beautiful woman – his beautiful woman, even! – was touching him, and all of his strength was instantly depleted. Unbeknownst to Daisy, the commoner 'problem' was just as much as conundrum to him as it was to her. Why in the world such a lovely, high class woman wanted to be with him was a mystery. He just wish he knew just what it was she liked about him, so he could constantly keep doing it, in order to keep her by his side.

"Now, you should keep your legs open." Daisy continued, motioning to his webbed feet. "And be ready to lunge forward, and…" Only now did she notice his dumbstruck look, his face red, eyes drooping, clearly ridiculously happy. She had seen that look on his face dozens of times before, and by now, knew she was the cause of it. It was a move of great flattery to her, to know that she could reduce his brain cells to zip, with just a mere touch. Though her own ego and self-confidence were high to begin with, seeing this proof of her power was always a welcome reminder. She fought a smile, however, because there was work to do. She couldn't spend all day turning him into complete and utter mush, no matter how entertaining the idea was. So, clearing her throat again, she tried to create a serious tone in her voice. "Donald, have you been listening to a word I said?"

His expression faltered, as worry over angering her was born. "Uh, sure!" He lied, trying to rack his brain for any word that he could have heard over the past couple of minutes. "You said… you said…" Alas, he could only recall her feather light touch, the gaze of her enchanting eyes, even how each lock of her golden hair fell perfectly into place. But he was sure (and wrong) that she didn't want to hear any of that. "… You said… shoulders… and… fingers… and… swords…"

With a roll of her eyes, Daisy let him go, dusting her hands off. "Clearly, all three of you need a proper teacher. And you can't just use random trees as a target, that's not going to accomplish a single thing!" She then pointed to the tree, but now that he was no longer blocking it, she could see he hadn't been using it for practice at all. There, carved sloppily into the bark, was the shape of a heart, and inside, letters, 'D.D. + D.D.' with the atypical arrow through the entire thing. Adding more to Donald's mortification, the tree was in fact covered with failed attempts at the same sappy mark, with obvious errors, so he had obviously done it over and over again until he had gotten it right. It was utterly childish and silly.

Now Daisy couldn't fight off her smile, positive her cheeks were warm, and now didn't care about how she or he looked. She looked at him, but he wouldn't lock eyes with her, choosing instead to stare up at the sky, quite distressed. Manly musketeers didn't carve hearts and arrows into trees, so he thought. Suddenly, her dressy arms were around his neck, and his body was yanked in close so she could land a smooch right on his cheek. Once again, the entire world and all his cares evaporated, lost in her tenderness and beauty.

As for Daisy, she was utterly, unabashedly, and deeply in love with this commoner, and there seemed to be something less wrong with that notion than usual.