Newsies Oneshots 2.0

The King of Brooklyn-Spot, Race

Spot struggled in the arms of the guards, bringing as they squeezed his arms tighter, nearly lifting himself off of the ground.

He was walked through the entire castle, having seen pictures of the royal family's portraits, hanging over him intimidatingly. He remembered thinking about how unfair it is that they get all of the glory, how they get to shine in the sunlight as he gets to grind in the dirt.

The two large doors in front of him opened, the guards still anonymous as they entered the throne room, where King James and Queen Arabella sat stoically, their counsel on each side.

The room was fantastic. Gold hung from the walls and the ceiling, the white walls covered in the beautiful golden artistry, the sun hitting it just right. The king and queen basked in it, the shine of their crowns almost blinding. Spot wanted it so bad.

He could've sold the crown for money, becoming the richest man in the kingdom. However, his gang of ruffian thieves were weak when it comes to the possibility of being caught. Luckily, he got away for two weeks. Unfortunately, he's the most wanted criminal in all of the kingdom. In return, someone snitched.

And they caught him.

He was stood before the king and queen, a man wearing ill-fitting tights and rather rambunctious long-sleeved lawyer's robe. He looked horribly out of fashion, and was undoubtedly smug. "Sean Conlon of Brooklyn! Stated behind the crimes of treason and thievery, including an attempt to steal the royal crown."

To be fair, he didn't mean to do all of those things. It was an accident that he put Brooklyn's logo on the King's royal flag, and allowed it to wave during the announcement of the new prince, William. The theft of the royal crown wasn't completely his fault either, him having no intention to steal it before he formed his group of thieves, and it wasn't exactly his idea to get caught.

Yet, here he was.

"In regards to these crimes", the rather foolish looking man continues, unraveling a scroll, "the counsel has discussed with true honor", which Spot find funny, since most of them enjoyed cheating on their humble wives, "and prosperity for our great state of New York, that Sean Conlon of Brooklyn is guilty."

Spot rolled his eyes, knowing they had very little proof that any of what he'd done was him. Of course, there was a picture, but it was hand drawn. They didn't even get his nose right.

He wasn't saying he didn't do any of what is being counted against him—because he did, and he enjoyed it—but the royal's couldn't prove that.

"The price for such crimes", the grand counselman begins, no one bothering to look at him as he spoke, "is death."

Spot saw that coming. He did have fun with life while it lasted. He supposed if you lived young, you'd die young, too.

He thought of penning letters for all of the friends he did have, or letting them hear the news themselves. Spot suppose that would be cruel, and he's not that horrible.

As he was making a list of things he wanted to do before he was prepared to be decapitated, the large doors he walked through burst open, the screech of a word echoing throughout it. "WAIT!"

Spot furrowed his brows, having not recognized that voice. Ever in the entirety of his being. The king stood with horror as the queen sat shocked, the counsels turning to this young man as guards began to stop after him.

"Who are you?"

"I am Racetrack", the man introduces, walking rather quickly up to the king. "And I can prove that this man has done nothing wrong!"

He glanced at Spot and winked, turning back to his straight and determined face faster than a hungry bear. Spot stared down.

Despite his crimes, and the rather quick trial, Spot was left standing longer than he expected thanks to this man. This man he didn't even know.