Ok, if the Duchess won't take coffee in her ice cream, I certainly will!
Royals, I do have another installment for you, and apologies for the late hour. ARoRL requires more of my attention right now. So, with that note, here we go.
*ahem*
Queen tiddlywinks surveyed the sea of plot bunnies now filling the throne room, their cute and fuzzy faces upturned toward hers (with a few exceptions eyeing Prince Welcheren, likely wondering if he had carrots stashed upon his personage).
"Don't even think it," she warned when one's nose began to twitch. Carrot seeking plot bunnies were worse than a chihuey without his Scotch. Or Princess Wicked without her Iron Maiden. Or heavens above, the Duchess without her coffee.
Well. Maybe not that scary.
The Queen made mental note to check on the status of coffee service for Sunday Brunch.
Prince Welcheren tentatively offered, "Your guests are...cute, Your Majesty. Erm. Very....cute."
Ah, these plot bunnies were cute, yes. Deceptively cute. The Prince was not the first to be hoodwinked by their innocent ways. Their fluffy tails and their adorable floppy ears hid masterminds of writerly destruction, little monsters capable of wreaking havoc on plot lines. And absolute villainy when they accidentally got wet.
The perfect accomplices for what the Queen had in mind! Nothing was too daring, too devilish, too deliciously Machiavellian when it came to saving the kingdom and her subjects. And she'd had quite enough of these snakes and their rifts and blowing up her sparkly spaces, thank you very much.
"Fiends. Despotic fuzz balls. Lend me your ears! Today, I have something even better than your tyranny over muses in other realms." Several noses twitched in interest and the Queen smiled sweetly. "Oh yes. Remember back when we made that deal that you could torment my secret sparkly abodes with your subplots in return for a favor? A favor only grown larger when I put in that jacuzzi pool for you in the sub-levels of my closet?"
The Queen ignored Prince Welcheren's look of horror. She had no time to explain that sometimes it was better to get plot bunnies wet, than to rely on your average run-of-the-mill bunny. And certainly the Royals would all be glad for her rampant plot bunny hoarding because today...well, today was going to be a bad day for any riff-raff serpents wielding rifts like the kingdom was a fairytale version of Pacific Rim. Not in her court!
A particularly sparkly plot bunny hopped forward and stared up at her with imploring cutesy wootsie eyes.
"Yes, Frank. It may involve dancing."
The bunny did a hip-hop hoppity slide and bumped the Royal Alchemist's leg, as if to get him to join in. The Prince continued to let flies in, to Frank's disgusted twitch of a nose.
"Leave our gracious subject alone. He's not used to your ways." Queen tiddlywinks gave a side-eye to all the fur and,um, other things the plot bunnies were leaving about. Time to get them on the road, before the cleaning staff mutinied. Or complained to the Duchess. Or her grand Mageship, wherever she'd high'ed off to.
"Now, we've practiced for this, so don't let me down. Does everyone have their shineyyyy?"
Suddenly, the room was filled with shineyyyy robe wearing, sparkly scythe wielding plot bunnies, their ears twitching through the perfectly crafted ear slots. Except Frank. He refused to hinder his dance moves with robes, so he wore a sparkly tiara on his head instead. That was for the best, given the Queen had other plans for him. She knew he'd be needed tomorrow, to carry on plotting with her successor. But for now...
"Rift Warriors, Aaaaaattennnnntion!"
To a one, the cute little crowd became a fanged, snarling, hopping army. Prince Welcheren emitted a sound quite similar to a squeak and moved behind the Queen. She gave him a majestic look of reassurance, then whistled.
"Sic 'em, team!"
With a thump, thump, thump, and a hop, hop, hop, the little Rift Warriors swung their scythes in menacing fashion, then promptly poofed in rainbow clouds of glitter to seek and destroy every last one of those nasty rifts. Why, by the Duchess' morning coffee, the kingdom would be in tip top shape once again. Yes, indeed.
That mother of all serpents would rue the day it messed with Queen tiddlywinks.
The castle walls rattled as something rather large and heavy slammed against the stonework, narrowly missing another window. Queen tiddlywinks eyed the Prince, who was avidly watching Frank jitterbug his way across the throne room with his scythe that was now sprinkling a sparkly substance all over the broken pieces of stained glass. Prince Welcheren was still hiding something. And she aimed to find that information out before the new Monarch arrived, even if that meant Frank had to tap dance all over the Prince.
Frank was a mean tap-dancing bunny machine.
