“Enough!” Balthazar shoved the guard toward Francis and Gavin. “Seize them! Both of them! Do it now, do it now, do it now!”
“It was him!” Gavin snorted as the guards started to close in on them. “He killed the king and tried to escape out the window, but the bed sheet he used wasn’t long enough. So he took a dive into a pile of pig shit. Didn’t you, Prince Fuckface?”
The guards paused, and that was all Gavin needed. He shot off like a pink cannonball, zigzagging his way through the guards’ legs.
Francis tried to go after him, but was quickly grabbed and thrown to the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs. His arms were twisted behind his back, nearly popping them both out of the socket. He shrieked as he was yanked to his feet. Gavin oinked and snorted in the distance, shouting voices and clanging metal just behind him.
“So, Prince Francis,” Balthazar said, stepping up to him and sniffing his face. “Think you can just march into my home, my kingdom, and murder my father? Did you actually think you’d get away with something like that?”
“Why? What reason would I have to kill him? It was me who brought home his daughter. Your sister! If I wanted anything from him, according to your traditions, all I had to do was say so. What could I possibly gain from killing him?”
Balthazar’s eyes rolled to the side as if he hadn’t thought of that. “Evil men don’t always need a reason. Perhaps my sister convinced you. Perhaps as revenge for locking her away. Yes. Yes, that’s it. That sounds good. It was both of you! Conspiracy!”
“What? You have no proof! I have nothing to do with this!”
“The king was alive. You showed up. Now he’s dead. That’s all the proof I need. And in the morning, you will be slaughtered like the swine you keep for company! In front of the entire kingdom. I’ll even send for your dear parents in Granada. I’m sure they wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch their greatest disappointment be cut from this world. Piece by piece.”
“You won’t get away with this! I only wanted to help—”
Balthazar punched Francis across the face, then yelped and shook his fist, hopping and grimacing. “Hold your hand over his mouth. I’m tired of hearing him. Tired! If he makes another sound, I’ll cut your balls off and stuff them down his throat!”
“Yes, m’lord,” the guard said, and pressed his metal palm so hard over Francis’s mouth, the pressure made Francis’s teeth cut into the back of his lips.
“Now it’s time to pay my dear sister a visit. I am king now. And as king, I banish her back to the tower she came from. She can take the prince’s head as a puppet for her free hand.”
Francis didn’t struggle as he was carried out of the room and into the hall. His mouth filled with blood as the guard pressed his hand down harder, pulling Francis along in a tight headlock. Metal edges dug into Francis’s scalp and neck, and his feet dragged behind him as the guard ushered him along.
He couldn’t hear Gavin anymore and hoped his friend escaped unscathed. Hoped he injured one of the bastards before he went.
As they crossed the castle toward the princess’s chamber, Francis wondered what it was about him and his quest that attracted such bad luck. He had finally done it. Found a princess, and a king, who would listen to his cause. Who would help him spread the word and the message of P.E.T.P. and make the people see that the world could be a better, more peaceful and harmonious place. For everyone.
The very moment the king expressed his willingness to help me, I should have known he was doomed. No matter what, everything I do ends in tragedy and disappointment. I may as well let them behead me. If only to spare any others the misfortune of being in my vicinity the next time my bad luck decides to strike again.
A group of servant girls stepped out of Princess Pretty’s room just as Balthazar and his guards arrived. One girl held a pile of soiled clothing, her face turned away from it to avoid breathing in the twenty-year-old fumes. Another girl carried a tray filled with plates, nothing but crumbs and greasy smears. Even in his current predicament, Francis was glad to see the princess was eating.
“Out of my way!” Balthazar said. He tried to muscle his way past the girls, but failed. He was shoved back, the girls still balancing the tray.
“You’ll need the king’s permission to enter the princess’s chamber. She’s resting.”
“The king is dead, you stupid whore! And if you don’t move out of—”
The tray slipped from her hand and crashed over Balthazar’s foot. He howled and hopped, his face changing from red to almost purple.
“Sorry, m’lord. Lost my grip. Let me get that.” When she bent over to grab the plates, she swung her head hard, the top of her skull colliding with Balthazar’s groin. “Oh my! I’m just so clumsy today.”
Balthazar’s mouth opened and closed as he cupped his crotch, using the guard nearest him to keep his balance. With eyes nearly crossed, he glared at the servant girl. Snarled at her. She just smiled back and collected her mess.
“As I said, m’lord. The princess is resting. If it’s urgent, I’ll need the king to tell me so.”
“I . . . the king . . . ”
“M’lord?”
“I am the bloody king! Me! Mememememe!” Balthazar shoved the guard and stomped his feet, swinging his fists in the air.
“I’m afraid I do not follow, m’lord.” The playful smirk she had been wearing tightened, and she slid closer to the other girl holding the clothes.
“The king,” Balthazar said, slapping the tray from her hand again, “is dead. Slain in his own bed. And I know, I know, that my sister and this banished prince she came with are responsible.”
The woman gasped, shaking her head. “It’s not possible. This cannot be. I have not left the princess’s side since her arrival.”
“Sonia, isn’t it?” Balthazar, seeming to sense that he had rattled the woman, stepped toward her and cupped her chin. “My father spoke very highly of you. Asked you to care for my mother during her final days. Is this accurate?”
“It is.”
“Perhaps you have a hand in this as well. Gained my father’s trust so you could get close enough to kill him. Did you plan this with my sister? Is this all a plan to place her on the throne instead of me? That’s what it is, isn’t it? I’m sure of it now.”
“You can’t be serious. Your sister arrived only yesterday.”
“Hours before my father the king was murdered! And Sonia, my dear, I am very serious. Look at my face. Do you see? Look at how serious I look.”
Sonia said nothing, just covered her mouth and stared blankly at the floor.
“Now, as your king, I demand you step aside.”
“You are not the king.”
Balthazar flinched. Grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked so she was forced to look up at him. “What did you say?”
“Your sister is the firstborn. The throne is hers by birthright.”
“An act of patricide voids any right she may have had. Which makes me king. Me. Me! And you, whore, have tested my patience enough. Guard! I want her head in my chamber. Cleaned, of course. Get on with it!”
“Stop! Leave her alone!” Francis tried to scream, but his words were just muffled noise behind the guard’s hand.
“I’d rather die than live in a kingdom ruled by you. Death would be a gift compared to that.” She lowered her head, swiped her hair out of the way so her neck was exposed.
The guard knew better than to hesitate. He unsheathed his sword as he stepped forward, lifting it over his head.
Francis heard the galloping before he heard the shouts.
“Get back here, you fuckin’ ham!”
Gavin oinked as he sprinted toward them, three guards gasping for breath as they gave chase behind him, faces red and glistening with sweat.
Francis’s guard, turning to watch the speeding pig, lifted his hand enough for Francis to suck in a deep breath.
“Gavin! Help us!” he shouted before the hand clamped back over his face, this
time crushing his nose.
“Hands off my prince, you royal horse fuckers!”
“The pig! The pig!” Balthazar hopped up and down, pointing. “Somebody grab that fucking pig!”
Gavin darted through the guards’ legs, zigzagging and weaving. The guards chasing him collided with the others, throwing weapons and pieces of golden armor into the air. As they thrashed and fought to get back to their feet, Gavin ran right at Balthazar.
“Grab him! Don’t . . . keep that thing away from—”
The new king tried to turn and run, but stepped on a shard of broken plate and slipped, landed hard on his back. Balthazar yelped when he saw Gavin closing in on him and just managed to climb back to his feet when the pig launched himself through the air and chomped down on the king’s genitals.
Balthazar arched his back and shrieked. It was more high-pitched than any woman could have managed, a tone so piercing every guard stopped what they were doing to cover their ears.
Gavin dangled from the king’s groin, his chubby pink body swinging to and fro as Balthazar walked backward, bow-legged, on his tiptoes as if trying to avoid stepping on ants. When he reached the wall, he leaned backward against it, reached down with both hands, then quickly yanked them away when Gavin bit down harder. Another scream erupted.
“Please . . . oh gods please stop . . . ” Balthazar’s voice could have come from a prepubescent mouse.
Gavin spoke around the man’s groin, keeping his teeth firmly clenched. “Let Francis go. Do it now, or I’ll turn your new king into a queen.”
The guards, as one, looked at Balthazar.
“Do . . . do as he says. I th-think one of my balls popped. I think I felt it b-burst like a grape . . . ”
The hand lifted from Francis’s face, and he scurried away. He wiped the blood from his nose and mouth as he joined Sonia and the other girl who were both glaring at Balthazar with dragon fire in their pupils.
“You all right, Fran?”
“No. I’m not. I’m nowhere near all right.”
“Why . . . why did you do it?” Balthazar squeaked.
“Do what?”
“Kill my father? Y-you didn’t have . . . to do that.”
“Kill your—wait. What? Even with a pig’s tusks digging into your scrotum, you spit lies?”
“You tell a grieving son to his face that he lies? About his father’s murder?”
Gavin growled and thrashed his head. Balthazar made a long wheezing sound, sort of smiling though it was obvious his pain was monumental. He slowly lowered himself until he was sitting, but that only made it worse for him. Gavin, now with his hooves on the ground, began to tug and drag the king backward.
Balthazar shook his head, the cords in his neck like wire under his skin. His mouth stayed almost shut as he spoke, making it look like he was talking through his nose.
“He’s . . . he’s going to sever it. The head. The . . . the cock head. Oh gods please. And my s-scrotum is torn. I can feel that it’s torn . . . ” He spoke every word in a whisper, gently, as if scared the volume of his voice could intensify the pain.
“I saw you,” Gavin said, speaking through the wall of his teeth. “Should’ve let you hit the ground. Crack your head open like an egg.”
“You shit on me . . . ”
“I shat under you. And if it wasn’t for that, it’d be the devil gnawing on your nuts instead of me. Now tell the truth or I swear to every fuckin’ god there is I’ll chew your prince bits right off. Won’t be much of a meal, I can tell you that.”
Balthazar could only weep.
“We have to get the princess,” Francis said to the servant girl Sonia. “While Balthazar is . . . diverted.”
“Pretty says you are a good man. Brave. Did you murder the king?”
“Of course not! What she calls bravery most would call stupidity and stubbornness. And though good is subjective, I’d like to think I’m a good man. I am the founder of P.E.T.P. after all.”
Sonia furrowed her brow and started to speak.
“I’m working on the acronym,” Francis said. “Princes for the Ethical Treatment of Princesses. The only reason I’m here is to get the king and the princess to assist me in changing the customary torture of royal females! So no, I did not murder the king. He was the only king to ever take me seriously.”
“The king had no intention of helping you, Prince Francis. That I can promise you. But I believe you,” she said, then whispered something to the other servant girl who nodded and then quickly wandered off. “Come with me.”
Sonia reached for the door, but was distracted when a pig’s squeal erupted into the air behind them. Francis gasped, expecting to find one of the guards with his sword through Gavin’s back, but his best friend still had his hold on Balthazar, the guards still staring, dumbfounded and motionless.
“No,” Gavin said just as the sow came into view.
Two servants in chef’s outfits held a hogtied sow who hung upside down from a thick wooden pole. The men each held an end of the pole, nonchalantly strolling by, chatting about what their wives wouldn’t let them do in the bedroom.
“Tried it once, but forgot to clean it off. Gave her an infection like you wouldn’t believe, it did. Looked like an eyeless socket in the morning, with all the brown crust around the edges. She ain’t been the same since, she hasn’t.”
“Been so long for me, I was thinking I’d give this plump beauty a go before we cut her open. Or after. I s’pose it don’t matter which.”
The men cackled as they shuffled down the hall, the sow squealing and wiggling, her black eyes wide and wild. Then she spotted Gavin and screamed louder.
“Let her go, you fuckin’ bastards!” Gavin opened his jaw and roared toward the men who both yelped and quickened their pace, the sow now hysterical.
“Gavin!” Francis bounded forward but was thrown back by an armored fist. He landed on his back, but quickly sat up despite the pain and blurriness. “No!”
The princess’s door creaked open and she poked her head out, smiling moronically. “Francis! Sonia! I didn’t know you two were the same person. How delightful!”
Gavin tackled one of the cooks, kicked him in the head, then dove for the other one. The sow, now on her side on the floor, writhed and shrieked.
“Get back, ya fucker!” the cook said and kicked at Gavin, dodging the tusks and hooves.
“Princess!” Francis said. “It’s not safe!”
Balthazar whined as he rose to his feet, wobbly and pale. He wiped the tears and snot from his face, tilted his head back, and bellowed, “Seize them!”
SEIZE THEM!
Sister, after all these years
You show up, are you out of your mind?
Locked away, you escaped, brought this faggot here
Francis: Hey!
Tell me, what did you expect to find?
I had a feeling when I saw you
That you’re different
Your pretty little brain has been fried.
I idolized you, I loved you, when you left I mourned you
Assuming my big sister had died
And now you’re home
You haven’t even been home for a fucking day
And what do I find
In father’s bedroom, the king has been slain.
You were locked away
And I was forced to stay
Our father liked me best
And you’re hungry for revenge
Guards, seize them!
To the dungeon!
We were his children
And you killed him
Seeeeiiiiize them!
I get it, you’re jealous, envious of my phallus
Being a princess must not be fun
It’s veiny and long, and as gorgeous as a song
And all you’ve got is that stinky cunt
I’m sorry
But as king it is my duty to avenge him!
You were locked away
And I was forced to s
tay
Our father liked me best
And you’re hungry for revenge
Guards, seize them!
Those demons!
Brutally beat them
For their treason!
Admit it!
You did it!
You stabbed him
Guards, grab them!
Seeeeiiiize them!
Francis: No. No! You’ve got it all wrong!
Gavin: Get your mitts off my rump roast, cocksucker!
(Oinking, then a crunch)
Guard: Ouch! The swine has bitten me bollocks!
Princess: This is fun!
Seeeeiiiiize them!
***
When the song was over, Balthazar nearly fell over, still drunk from the singing. A couple of guards caught him and held him up like a life-sized marionette.
The guard who Gavin had bitten had him pinned under his golden boot, the tip of his sword an inch deep into Gavin’s nostril.
“We’ll be feasting on you tonight, we will,” the guard said, massaging his groin with his free hand.
Gavin, blood staining his tusks, only grinned. “I’ve been hearin’ that a lot lately.”
Francis lay on his stomach, three swords pressed to the back of his neck and as many boots crushing his spine. Sonia was just beside him, on her feet, wrapped in the golden arms of a large guard who let his hand roam her torso, the plates of metal over his fingers squeaking as he roughly squeezed her breasts like he was trying to juice them. Her face was stone. Eyes unblinking as she glared at Balthazar.
The princess giggled as she pranced around the hall, gliding past the guards and dodging them as they tried to grab her. She seemed oblivious to the seriousness of the situation, though Tessa snarled and hissed.
“Any of you shit suckers touches her, and I’ll gnaw your tits off!” the rat said, snapping its jaws at any hands that came near it.
“Grab her already!” Balthazar said, the song trance wearing off. “She is a traitor! The patricidal princess!”
“Patricide?” Pretty’s voice dropped. “Where is our father, little brother?”
Francis had heard this tone before. Just before she conjured her army of pests to devour the Goblin Dragon and its goblin horde like dollops of dog shit. The playfulness melted from her face and body language like candle wax, revealing the true woman beneath.
Pretty Pretty Princess Page 11