I’m trying the whole nursery rhymes as chapter names thing.  What d’you think?

The King of the Castle

Khaso Peepes, minister for trade and Lucian Greeb, a particularly fat faerie science advisor, were sitting in the King’s dining room, wondering why he wasn’t there.  They were supposed to be having an extremely boring conversation with him about how surely it wasn’t necessary to give away the wertol herds to the pynules in the South, and how surely a compromise could be made.  Greeb had his cue cards ready and Peepes had even brought along a trifle for dessert, but Mindric wasn’t there.

“Typical,” stated Greeb.  “Absolutely typical, I say.  We would never have been treated with such disrespect with Albertus on the throne, I can tell you!”

“Perfectly expectable from a pynule,” Peepes agreed.  “How did he ever manage to kill Albertus? I regret the day it happened, I really do.”

Greeb, who as eyeing Peepes’ trifle in a particularly hungry manner, nodded his head.  “It’s in their biology,” he droned on.  “Pynules,” he spat, “their medulla oblongata is so greatly enlarged that it compresses their sense of courtesy by huge amounts.  They always think about themselves, never about the consequences.”

“So impolite,” Peepes tutted.  “And I thought that being a minister meant something.  Pah! That king doesn’t listen to a word we say.  No respect at all!”

“Terrible,” Greeb snorted.  “I’ve never been treated so badly since that horrible prince threw a quantina bone in my eye.”

“Really,” said Peepes with some interest, his vampire face contorted into a dignified look of disgust, “he threw a quantina bone in your eye?”

“Yes,” sniffed Greeb.

“Oh,” said Peepes, shaking his head.  “The youth of today.  I can tell you, when I was younger I showed my elders respect! If we treated our children like our fathers treated us, they wouldn’t know what hit them!”

“Here here!”

“Exactly,” Peepes said with a nod.  “But where is that despicable Mindric?”

“He went to the South,” Greeb said knowingly, “on holiday.”

“Holiday!”

“Yes, on holiday.  He said that he would be back for our meeting.”

“It’s alright for him,” Peepes complained, “jetting off to the South whenever he feels like it.  I tell you, if I did that goodness knows what would happen to the economy!”

“And if I did,” said Greeb, “what would our scientists do?”

“Exactly,” Peepes said again.  “And I brought this trifle! I was being respectful to him, expecting a meal like what Albertus always gave, but does he even come? No!”

“We could always eat the trifle now,” Greeb said hopefully.

“I’m too angry to eat,” Peepes cried.  He glanced at Greeb’s cue cards.  “What do they say?”

“Bad for wertol research, cures for diseases can be tested on wertol, wertol good for the blood.  I’ve suggested that we give the pynules two wertol, one male and one female, and they can breed them themselves! Or we could teach them the science behind-”

“Greeb we all know that the economy’s the real issue here.”

Greeb looked taken aback, but said nothing.  It was true.  Even he knew that the economy was the real issue there.  Peepes smiled superiorly and reminded himself of how the wertol trade made 77.863% of the North East’s annual income. 

“The rudeness,” he sniffed.

“Never trust a pynule to be on time,” Greeb agreed.

There was a timid knock on the door.

“About time too,” coughed Khaso Peepes.

“Late as usual,” Greeb muttered.

“Come in, your highness,” they both said.

The door creaked open, but Greeb and Peepes were disappointed that it wasn’t a king who stood there, but a terrified looking water sprite clutching a piece of paper.

“Who are you?” snarled Greeb.

“Did the guards let you in?”

The sprite’s ears trembled and her green eyes spun over the two immensely posh-looking old men in front of her.

“They did actually,” she said.

“The king’s not here,” said Greeb with a disapproving glare at the clothing of the commoner.

“I know,” the sprite said.  “That’s because he’s dead!”

“He’s dead?” Greeb and Peepes both looked at each other, smiled, and looked at the sprite in a kinder, more hopeful way.

“Yes,” said the sprite, clearing her throat and looking at the paper.  “I, Safia Delrose,” she read, “am here to declare that the King, his Royal Highness Mindric the pynule, is no longer with us.  He was killed five days ago by the now deceased Placio Rupe.  I am witness to this occurrence, as are Clorissa, Shaman of Craznia, Brian Nossila, leader of the Craznian squad…”

Safia reeled off various painfully boring names.  She had thoroughly researched what she would have to say, word for word, the day before, and it wasn’t particularly interesting.  The door blew open behind her, making her jump, but she shut it quickly gaining a slightly new burst of interest.  She read the next paragraph that she had written on the paper in a rushed voice, to get the boring stuff over and done with.

“As the killer, Placio Rupe, is now deceased, and there are no heirs to the throne, it rests with the chief witness, myself, to say what is to happen to the country and pass the said idea through the panel of councillors and advisors.”

She took a deep breath and put the paper into her pocket.  She looked at the two old men, one fat with cue cards and the other thin with a trifle, only to see them looking happy.  She could only hope that they would accept this recitation as valid enough for her to make a decision on how the country should be run.  Greeb opened his mouth.

“We can’t be certain that the king is dead,” he whispered to Peepes.  “But he is incredible rude and-”

“And if he comes back we’ll deal with it then.”  Peepes nodded.  “Yes, we’ll deal with it then.  We can get rid of that disrespectful pynule just like that,” he clicked his fingers.  Strangely, Safia almost expected him to go invisible.

“OK, Safia Delrose,” Greeb said loudly.  “What is your idea?”

Safia grinned, she had never been given this much power before.

“We’re going to have a vote,” she cried happily, “about who’s to be the next king.  People stand forward, say what they’re going to do to the country and we vote for who we want!”

“With ‘we’ being?”

“Everyone,” grinned Safia.

“And who would be the people everyone could vote for,” asked Greeb in a bored, drawling tone.  “The ministers?”

“Well yeah,” Safia said slowly, “but other people too.”

“Other people? That’s a Southern idea!” retorted Peepes, who didn’t much care for the South.

“Well it’s fair,” Safia stated.

“I suppose,” Greeb said, dipping a finger in the trifle and licking it, with some admiration for the sprite and her strong idealistic views on fairness.  “That it is fair.  No doubt more sentimental members of the council will vote for it.”

It was true that the youth of today were becoming much more idealistic that Greeb and Peepes’ generation.  That was just the way that the world worked, Greeb supposed, and perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to accept some of the ideas of the youth.  Many young people these days, Greeb supposed, may be hooligans with no respect, but this one seemed somehow mature, with the innocence of age on her side.

“Yes,” said Peepes reluctantly, “Thank you, Miss Delrose, your plan with most probably go through.”

“Oh good,” Safia clapped her hands together and did a little skip.

“And will you join us for trifle?” Greeb said politely, with a new-found respect for the young sprite.

“Oh,” said Safia, “Thank you, but I really must be getting back home.”

Safia, however, didn’t get to go home at that time, she didn’t even get to turn around, because the trifle, which Greeb had been thoroughly enjoying, suddenly rose up into the air, turned over, and splattered all over his head, large pink chunks dripping down his nose.

Safia swore under her breath and scowled, an annoyed hatred pacing it’s way through her veins.  How dare he! Why did he always have to ruin things for her?  This was her one chance of causing a difference in the world, of making Quynx a better place, and he just had to burst in and ruin everything! The stupid, ugly, selfish, ugh! Was there even a word harsh enough to describe him?

Greeb, who was wearing an expression of fury, turned to Peepes.

“Khaso,” he snarled, “what was that for?”

“What was what for?”

“You threw a trifle on my head! Look at me!”

“You do look rather stupid-”

“Why did you throw a trifle on my head?”

“I did no such-”

“Miss Delrose,” Greeb turned to the sprite, the jelly of the trifle practically boiling on his hot face, “did he or did he not throw a trifle on my head?”

Safia, who would have laughed at the man in any other situation, clutched onto her last hope.  “Please” she thought hard “please, Nyte, just don’t ruin this! For once don’t ruin something!”.

“Yes,” said Safia, “he did.”

Peepes, who looked both furious and utterly confused, jabbered to Greeb about having no idea what the child was talking about.  Greeb, however, slipped out of his chair and stood, glaring down at Peepes, his fists clenched.

Nyte:  There were the two stupid old men.  One hugely fat clenching his wrinkly old hands, trifle dripping down his face, in a lame attempt to look scary.  The other one was thin, sitting on one of my father’s favourite chairs, and amazingly looking slightly scared.  I had to laugh, and wondered why even the grumpy sprite wasn’t doing the same.

“Aren’t food fights fun!”

All of the heads whisked around to where I was standing, or rather where they thought I was standing.  The two old men wore expressions of terror, shock and confusion, expressions I was thoroughly used to receiving.  The sprite’s expression was the one that shocked me.  It contained such a great degree of anger that it looked strange on even Safia, who was one of the most angry people I knew.  Pure fury was staring back at me.  Why was she so angry? After all, I was only claiming what was rightfully mine.

“Wh-wh-who, who said-”

“You can’t have forgotten me already, Greeb,” I snarled, “after that lovely Quantina bone in the eye episode I would have thought that forgetting me was impossible.  I’ve only been dead a few weeks.”

“It’s the prince,” said Greeb, paling.

Peepes, however, was harder to convince.  He began to potter on to Safia about how this was all some cruel joke.

“It might be,” said Safia coldly.  “The prince would never want to ruin the whole of Quynx’s future, now would he.”

I had a strong feeling that this comment was implied to me.  Oh well.  The sprite was not as clever as she seemed to think she was if she thought that I was going to give up my birth-right that easily.

“I think,” said Peepes slowly, himself going a pale grey colour, “I think that – if he was alive – he might.”

“I don’t want to ruin Quynx,” I said quietly, “I just want to rule it.”

“I’ve always heard that the prince was an incredibly selfish person,” spat Safia with a glare.  “A stupid, selfish, arrogant–“

“Ow,” I said sarcastically, “and you don’t think that I’ve ever been called worse?”

“It’s his ghost!” yelled Greeb.

“A ghost?”

“Yes a ghost!”

“Oh dear,” said Peepes, placing a hand to his heart.  He looked at Safia, whose ears were bigger than I had ever seen them before.  “I must say,” he said, “you are incredibly brave with a ghost in the room!”

“He’s not a ghost,” snapped Safia.  “He may be a selfish, sadistic, stupid, cowardly, squeamish megalomaniac, but he’s not a ghost.”

And she really thought that reeling off pathetic insults would stop me from wanting to become king?

“But the prince is dead,” Peepes whispered.

I groaned.  This was taking too long.  I clicked my fingers and came into vision.  Safia saw me first and glared even more venomously, Greeb fell into a faint.  I had to laugh as the fat trifle-covered faerie slammed into the ground and made the portraits quiver.

“Do I look dead to you?”

“Perhaps,” said Peepes weakly, regarding my scratches with terror.

“I was in a pynule fight,” I said through gritted teeth, this guy was really beginning to annoy me.  “But I’m not dead.”

“But Albertus said-”

“How do you know that he is the prince?”  Safia said with a hopeful smile.

“Look behind you, you ignorant sprite,” I said, angered at her obvious intention of stopping me become king.

Safia turned around and, to her disgust, was greeted with a large portrait of myself hanging by the door.  I had loathed having that portrait done, and had only been smiling in it because the artists had to keep swapping over when they got headaches, but still it seemed that it had come to some use.

Obviously, as they always do when painting portraits, I was made to look more innocent and sweet, and the portrait was done three years ago, but still it was unmistakably me.  Besides, both Greeb and Peepes had seen me before, I had no doubt that both were positive that I was the prince.

“Damn,” Safia snorted.

“So we’ll forget that whole voting idea put forward by the sprite over there and make arrangements for my coronation.”

“But,” Peepes continued to stutter, “But – but the funeral!”

“Yes,” I said softly, “the funeral.  I was dead then, I suppose.  It’s kind of complicated and involves the possession of a dead dog, but the point is that I escaped death, I escaped the pynules, I am heir to the throne and I am here now.  That’s all that matters.”

“I suppose,” Peepes began, only to be interrupted by the sprite.

“Actually,” Safia went on.  “A king should be someone who’s loved not feared, a king should be someone who wants to do good things to the country and not just rule it, a king should be-”

“Shut up, sprite,” I snapped, “you’re never gonna find your perfect king.  The point is that as heir I am the best king that you’re gonna get.”

“You’re just as bad as Mindric,” spat Safia.  “You really are! I almost wish that Rupe hadn’t tried to save you! Rupe would have been a better king than you!”

“Peepes,” I said politely, “please could you bring Greeb out of the room? I want to talk to Safia alone.”

Peepes nodded and began to drag the unconscious Science Advisor out of the room.  It took some time, in which Safia and I glowered at each other.  When the door had finally creaked shut, Safia exploded.

“How dare you! How dare you! Why do you even want to be king anyway?”

“Because I do and I can.”

“That’s no reason!” The sprite reached to her forehead exasperated.  “Y’know,” she said in a slightly calmer tone, “I should have expected this.  I really should’ve done.  This is my fault, my stupid fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” I began.  I shouldn’t have been so stupid either.

“You’re right it’s not!” Safia continued.  “It’s all your fault for being so – so – argh!”

“I’m sorry Safia,” I said quietly, “I didn’t know that you would take it this way.  But it is my right.  Besides, how do you know I won’t be a good king?”

“Because,” the sprite’s hands were clasped into two tight fists by her side.  “Because I do, Ok? How do you know that you’ll even like being a king?”

“I don’t,” I shrugged.

“It’s not all power, you know, there’s paperwork, meetings, talking with lots of old boring people.  You don’t even have that much power! The Advisors and Ministers have to agree with any plans you put forward, they’re the ones with the power, all you are is a figurehead.”

“Humph.”

“Nyte,” she said slowly, her ears going down slightly.  “If you become king then I will never talk to you again.  We won’t be friends anymore, you do know that?”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t let you do something so – so selfish!”

“You could if you tried,” I sniffed.

“I don’t want to try!” The ears came back up again and I sniggered.  The sprite didn’t look too impressed with this and her expression became even darker.

“Let me at least try-”

“You won’t like it.”

“Maybe, but I could try.”

“I suppose,” Safia said carefully, “that you could try.  Then we could have a vote.”

“Yes,” I agreed smartly, “we could have a vote.  A nice fair vote.”

“Yes,” Safia smiled.  “That sounds good!”

I was laughing on the inside.  This whole trying idea was based on Safia’s idea that I wouldn’t like being king.  Well, with me being sure that I would absolutely love being king, I thought that I was making a very smart move indeed.

“You could even be my MOPM, I think I’m missing one of those-”

That, however, was not a smart move.

“Vilma’s old job?”  Safia’s voice was icily cold.  Colder than I had ever heard it do before, and her green eyes were flashing dangerously.  “You want me to be minister of public matters? You want me to have Vilma’s old job? How stupid can you get, Nyte? Why would I want that horrible job left behind by that horrible faerie? Why! I have school to go to, Nyte, believe it or not, and I do not want to be under your employment! How could you even think – why one earth-”

“There’s a lot of power in that job,” I said defensively, “You said it yourself.”

“I- I-”  Safia bit her lip so hard that it went white.  I was worried that she would puncture it and that blood would drip from the hole in the disgusting gloopy way that blood drips.  “I’m going!”

And I watched as the sprite stormed through the door, slamming it behind her.  The portraits shivered again.  I felt almost sad to see the girl leave, I mean we were friends after all.  Perhaps I would have felt worse if it wasn’t for the glorious feeling of power that beat it’s way through my veins, warming up my mind with the knowledge that I, Kinyte Shya, was now king.  I was king.  Despite was Vilma had done all those years ago, despite my own father ordering Rupe and Dill to kill me, despite having to possess the body of a dead puppy, despite being attacked by hundreds of pynules (and owning the scratches to prove it), I was king.  I had overcome all of these obstacles and now the power was mine, and it felt too good to allow me to be completely upset over my only friend walking out on me.  Perhaps later I would think that I had got my priorities wrong, but then Safia was more the type of person to care about later, and not me.

A/N last line kinda sucks I know, but I couldn’t think of another way to put it.  Any ideas?  Also I know it’s kinda wrong to end the story on an argument but oh well lol.  Oh and also I was thinking about putting another chapter in between this one and ‘A dainty dish…’ because there’s quite a large gap, although nothing much would really go on lol.  OOOhhh also the argument could get solved later! Later? Later? But this is the end of this story! Mwahahaha! It doesn’t end yet! I will begin writing ‘Like father like Son’ fairly soon and that really will be the end (the last story in a trilogy) – oh apart from maybe a spin-off if I get bored.  I know this for a fact but won’t say why! Mwahahaha!!!!  Also PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review this chapter! Because it is the last one it is the most important one so hey the more reviews the better! I think I’m addicted to reviews – help! Anyhoo thank you ever so much for reading.

Here are the lovely people that have reviewed me!

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Written in Darkness – keeps changing name lol so I don’t know if they’ll still be called this!