A Most Charming Prince

Twenty: Family Ties, part one

Like any respectable, black-hearted villain, Il Répoute kept a priest conveniently on hand for nefarious purposes, such as spur of the moment, coerced marriages. The priest barely had time to yank his robes over his pajamas, much less brush his hair or wipe the crusties from his eyelashes before taking his place at the altar.

"On this day of great import, as destinies are bound together—"

"No more bondage!" sniveled Seth. "I don't want to get mar—"

Whack!

"Quiet or I'll have you taken out back and let the dreaded Pirate Captain Hips have her way with ya!" Red flames of power and madness danced in Il Répoute's eyes and he scowled with enough violence to threaten an entire roomful of recalcitrant schoolboys. "You will be married, and I will have full, legal reign over this kingdom. I will crush Maskulinia, I will drain their coffers for my pleasure, I will dance on their prissy human rights! Ha! And then I shall lock their children in cages and send the womenfolk back to the kitchens where they belong! I'll—"

"Should I continue with the ceremony, my Lord Interim Répoute?" the priest asked, eyeing Rebec as she crawled away. The girl was tied by hands and feet, and was also trying to chew through her gag. Seth blubbered louder (I don't know about you, but I'm starting to feel a teensy bit sorry for the boy. I mean, forced to get married at seventeen to a girl he didn't love, and even if he is a misogynistic creep, life couldn't be easy with Il Répoute for a father...) as his father grabbed Rebec and held her in place in front of the priest.

"Fire at will, priest, but get straight to the essentials. I'm on a tight schedule today."

"Do you, Rebec the cleaning maid, take Seth to be your husband?"

Rebec twisted and chewed. "Mmmh-nn-hmm guh!"

"She says, yes."

"Do you, Seth, son of Il Répoute, take Rebec to be your wife?"

Seth's eyes flicked to the knife point under his chin. He whimpered.

"He says, yes."

"Then by the power vested in me by our—great Scott!"

The chapel door crashed open and a voice boomed. "This wedding shall not proceed. Il Répoute, you and I shall cross swords as men of honor and when you beg me for your life, I shall hesitate for the blink of an eye, before most nobly granting it. Draw!"

That's right, ladies! Keep your panties in place, the valiant hero of the story has arrived to save the damsel in distress (and Seth, too).

As the knight strode boldly down the aisle, hair flowing, jaw clenched firmly, thigh muscles rippling under his hose, he drew his sword and tossed the scabbard. Angels wept. And the brothel ladies, led by Nigel, rushed in behind him.

In a plot twist that seriously no one expected, the King and Queen of Maskulinia along with the pirate Captain Hips burst through the back door. Il Répoute jumped behind Rebec and held his knife to her throat as a human shield.

The prince spared the barest glance around the room, evaluating the situation. He raised his sword at the brothel group. "Mother! Today I fulfill my destiny and make you proud of me. Il Répoute, die with honor or die a coward, your choice."

"Actually, darling," the queen said. "Fighting him won't be necessary. Time to come home. Right now. I have commissioned a painter for your portrait."

"But I wasn't talking...to...I'm confused," he said, and for the first time in our story, doubt clouded his majestic features.

"You are the Prince of Maskulinia. You have the VanSchlopti heirlooms, do you not? We need them for your sitting this afternoon." The queen flashed the mini portrait of her husband she wore as a locket at her neck, the jeweled spheres in his hands.

"By the saints!" Which was the closest the prince had ever come to swearing. He reached for the pouch at his belt, his sword coming perilously close to cutting off his own nose in his haste.

"One moment, just one moment," called Nigel. He wended his way through ladies and chapel benches, digging in his satchel. "Two royal jewels coming right..." His face went snow-white.

"You! What trickery is this?" the prince asked, turning to face him. "First you disappear in my hour of need and then you return as I am to be reunited with my true parents, but to sabotage the reunion. Admit it. For what do I find? An empty pouch. You are jealous, covetous. You desired what I had and could not resist getting your hands all over my family jewels. Fie. The treachery, the deception. Tell me, did you take my balls out last night to admire them? Fondle them before running off this morning? I know you wanted them since you knelt at my feet in the forest and saw them for the first time."

"That isn't," Nigel said, waving his hands helplessly. "It's not what it sounds like."

"Who's judging?" asked Nina. "I'm jealous."

"So?" the prince thundered. The walls shook. "Where are my great, golden balls?"

*** Excellent question. I demand to know where his balls are, this instant! ***