It was a…typical situation. Yes, that was the word Peach had for these sort of occurrences…they were typical. When she was a little greener and naïve, they frightened her a lot, but nowadays, she was used to it. Being captured by a being persistent on overthrowing her government wasn't so bad, after all. She wasn't starved or tortured—she'd mostly be kept in a cage or in a tiny room. It was a humbling contrast from her normal lifestyle where she'd spend most of her time at home in the reigning monarch's master bedroom, which, for some reason, her own parents didn't mind letting her have despite the fact they were also living monarchs with some political power. She felt this kept her in touch with knowing what poverty is like. These experiences weren't scary anymore, they were just a nuisance.
"Here ya go, Your Highness," Bowser said, handing her a ceramic bowl with her meal inside.
She bit her lips and nodded. "Thank you," she said as she reached to use the spoon inside. She stared into the dish for a little, and swirled her spoon around in it.
"Well, don't just stare at it, eat it!" Bowser nagged. "Didn't anyone ever tell ya not to play with her food?"
"You're not my mother," she quipped blankly.
"Right," he replied, "Because your mother hardly raised you. She left all her parental obligations to Toadsworth."
"Don't insult my mother," Peach replied, with a scowl on her face.
"What?" Bowser said innocently. "At least I didn't say that your father was too much of a bumbling idiot to raise you or your filthy herd of siblings…Oops, perhaps I've said too much…"
"Perhaps you have," she replied. She glared at him and slowly removed a glove from her hand, extending it, and folding her fingertips toward her palms. Peach was always a defiant captive, and Bowser was used to her slapping him in the face, but what she did was much more unbearable. She ran her fingers down the side of his face and scraped it, then did it again and again. It wasn't that her manicure was sharp or long, it was just that she was using a lot of force, and her intent on making him suffer was clear. Soon, a thin string of red droplets formed down the scrapings.
"Blood," she said. "I wanna see more of it." She tried to scratch him again, but he waved her hand away.
"That's a little unlike you, Princess," he said. "Your claws hurt. Damn, are you sure you're not part koopa? I mean, even I would never make anyone suffer like that…"
Suddenly, she realized. "You're right, I'm sorry!" she said, swinging back into her usual, perky self. "Here, I made you this!" Out of her pocket, she pulled out an embroidered handkerchief with two figures on it resembling both Bowser and herself, shaking hands, inscrolled with the words "Allies Forever." "I was thinking we could join forces," she explained.
The Koopa King was terribly confused. He held on to the cloth and replied, "Uh, thanks," then slipped it into his shell, which he used as a pocket on occasion. Changing the subject, he said, "Now, eat up. Or, as your boyfriend would say, mangia."
Peach frowned and blinked. "Mario's not my boyfriend," she replied.
"Of course not," Bowser replied sarcastically. "And I don't breathe fire or have fangs."
She sighed. "Fine, I'll eat." She dug her spoon into her dish, swallowed, and coughed. "What the hell did you give me?"
"Peach Melba, it's your favorite!" he said. "You'll eat anything with peaches, because that's your name. And Melba…I think you have a sister named Melba?"
She shook her head. "No, there's no Princess Melba."
"Ugh, the Toadstool dynasty has such an ingrained tradition of naming everybody after fruits and flowers and spices and desserts that I get all mixed up," he groaned.
She raised her spoon and let the raspberry Melba sauce drip. "What is this? It's supposed to be raspberry, but it tastes like honey tainted with blood. It even looks like it, too! Is that what it is? Are you trying to kill me, Koopa?" She flung her spoon at him, leaving the sauce sticking to his face.
He blinked, and licked the sauce. "Tastes ok to me. You know, it's funny, Princess, you used to relish this stuff." He paused. "Do you still like vanilla ice cream, though?"
"No, you bought the wrong brand," she said. "Do you have any medium rare steak?" she asked.
"But you're a— ahem," he prepared his voice into an overly-high falsetto, in order to do his impression of Peach, "A pollo-pescatarian! You only eat fish and white meat!"
"Well, I want a medium rare steak! I might not have wanted red meat then, but I want it now!" she said as she snapped her fingers.
"Ugh, fine," he said, then he called to one of his sons, "Hey, Iggy! Fire up the grill!"
"Yes, Father!" he said, swiping his flaming staff on the charcoal.
He then approach another son. "And Lemmy," Bowser said slowly, Go to the freezer and pull out a steak, and put it on the grill. Do you think you can do that for me?"
"Sure, Father!" he replied as he walked atop his ball, and then he lost his balance and fell over.
"I meant without toppling over?" Bowser said.
"I—I—I—I can try, Father," he said.
Peach smiled, then cleared her throat. "Ah, can I get a break to go to the little girls' room?" she said.
"Ugh, fine," he said, and he unlocked her room, then checked his watch. "Since you're a girl, I guess you can use Wendy's bathroom."
"Aw, but Dad! She'll get her ugly all over my stuff!" Wendy wined.
Peach twitched her lower eyelid. She opened her mouth to insult her, but she couldn't think of anything. "Don't test her, sweetheart. She's like, got hormones or something," Bowser explained.
"Thanks Bowser!" Peach said, "You're the sweetest kidnapper I've ever met!" she said kindly as she walked down the hall.
"Hm…" Bowser said. "She's acting odd…"
"How so, Pop?" Morton asked.
"Well, let's see…" Bowser began, "She's irritable, I mean, she's usually pretty irritable toward me, which I understand, considering I'm, like, her kidnapper, but seconds later she's extremely sweet, as sweet as she is to the general public, then she begins to hate a food she used to absolutely love, and develop sudden cravings for food she doesn't usually eat…and…." He paused, and it hit him.
"And what, Dad?" Ludwig asked.
Bowser swallowed. "And that was her second bathroom break in twenty minutes…"
The Koopalings looked at each other, and simultaneously sounded their disgust when they realized what these symptoms meant.
"I hate little humans!" Roy complained. "They're smelly!"
"Will we have to capture the kid with her? Because I don't want another. Bowser Jr. is enough," Larry said.
"Larry, it'll only be ours part-time," Lemmy explained.
"What if it comes out of her while she's here?" Wendy asked. "I'm not a midwife! I can't do that!"
"Who do you think is the father?" Ludwig asked.
"It's the green guy!" Morton said.
"What? No way," Roy said. "He's with her sister, remember? The yellow princess?"
"I don't think she's her sister," Wendy said, "Cousin maybe? Anyway, I know who the father is!"
"Who?!" the rest of them asked at the same time.
"It's the red guy!" she said.
"Ooooh," they replied.
"That makes so much sense! Why didn't I think of that?!" Lemmy said.
"ENOUGH!" Bowser shouted, spitting fire out of his nostrils. "I'm the closest figure she has to a friend in this castle, so I'll tell her. Children, scatter about your business." And so they did, and Peach returned from the bathroom, smiling.
"Peach, I uh, I noticed you were, uh, having some, uh symptoms…" he said as he handed her the plate of steak.
"Symptoms?" she said, genuinely curious. "What kind of symptoms?"
"Well, they're sort of…symptoms my wife had while she was…preparing for our children…" he explained.
"And what do your now ex-wife and I have in common?" she asked rhetorically. She then raised her index finger and smiled coyly. "We both hate you."
"No, no, that's not it!" he growled. "Klawdia doesn't even hate me! I picked the kids up from her lair over the weekend and she asked how my next evil scheme is going and gave some advice on how to defeat the Mario Bros. Hell, you don't even hate me. I bring your life excitement—you need baddies like me, but you'll never admit that."
"I beg to differ," Peach replied as she tore off a bite of steak and chewed it, "Though continue."
He pursed his lips. "Anyway," he continued, "Uh, well, you're the oldest of your brothers and sisters, right?"
"Correct," she nodded.
"And uh, you were old enough to remember the way your mom acted when she was preparing for the new babies, yes?"
"Sure."
"Well," he smiled hopefully, "If we were to analyze your behavior and mannerisms from the moment I abducted you today until this very second, would we find any antics that would mirror your mother's symptoms during any of her pregnancies?"
She squinted. "What are you saying?"
He sighed. "Peachy, my dear, are you seeing anyone?"
"Are you asking me out? If so, I politely decline."
"I'm not asking you out!" he said, "I like my women with a lot more scales. Besides, I've tried forcing you to marry me in order to inherit your kingdom, but that plan would always get foiled. Alright: let me word it like this—have you briefly seen anyone recently? Anyone who you…did things with?"
Peach rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to disclose my sex life."
"Sex life?" Bowser echoed. "Ew. Human sex is weird. Look, enough beating around the bush. I think I'll just cut to the chase here: Peach, I think there's a likely possibility you may or may not be pregnant."
She raised her eyebrows in mortification.
"Think about it. You've been moody, your tastes have changed, your bladder capacity is shrinking…"
"Have I gotten fat?" she asked meekly.
"What? No! I mean, well, I haven't noticed anything, but—maybe? I mean, that is a side effect of this whole thing…"
"Oh my God, I think you may be right," she realized. She stared off at nothing and stroked her chin, pondering.
"Of course, your best bet would be to see a doctor or take a test to confirm it," Bowser suggested.
"Yes, thanks," she said dismissively. "Ugh, how much longer until that stupid guinea gets here?"
"Whoa, didn't know that word was in your vocabulary there, Princess…" Bowser said. "Actually, now that you mention it, it looks around the time he usually gets here." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'll go outside the gate to greet him."
Bowser Jr. flew by in his mini Clown-Copter toy after knocking down a bookcase. "Hey look, Mama Peach is here! Hi Mama!" he waved.
"DON'T YOU EVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN!" the clearly terrified Peach shouted—not of Bowser Jr., though rather, the word he said: mama. The huge responsibility she associated with that word echoed in her head.
"Mama's acting weird," Bowser Jr. said to himself.
"She's not your mom though, BJ," Lemmy wined. "We visited Mom over the weekend. She's the lady with the fiery hair."
"Ugh, she gets her lipstick marks all over me!" Bowser Jr. said. "She's weird. I like Mama Peach better."
"Don't call me that," Peach said as she gritted her teeth.
Meanwhile, Bowser stood outside his castle, waiting for Mario to arrive. He saw him running and jumping in the distance and called out to him. "Come on, Mario! I know you can do better than that!" He heard the panting, then the lowering of the flag that signified that his presence was even closer.
"Let's a-go," Mario said once he was within a conversational distance to Bowser.
"Oh, hello, Mario," Bowser said. "You're probably expecting a battle, aren't ya? You want me to get in my shell and spin around and pierce your skin with my spikes, then start breathing fire and singe your overalls. Then, when I'm finally standing still, you'll jump unto my head and press the button behind me to activate the drawbridge, and let me fall in, drowning in lava, and if you should see me again in this quest, I'll be a skeleton."
"Ah, well," he replied, "Yes. That is-ah what I was expecting."
"Well, you're not gonna get that! Bwahahaha," he said. "Instead, I'm just going to defeat myself before you even have the chance to defeat me! Saves time that way. You've got some 'splainin' to do, y'know…well, at least, the Princess does…to you."
"'Splainin'?" Mario asked. "What is-ah this 'splainin'? I don't know if you—ah know this, Bowser, but…" he then began to whisper, embarrassedly, "English is—ah not my first language…"
Bowser rolled his eyes. "Oh, for God's sake, 'explaining!' She needs to explain something to you, so I thought I'd shave off some time by defeating myself because I don't like to leave you hanging! Now…"
Mario was about to throw a punch, expecting the plan to be a diversion, but sure enough, Bowser pushed the button to activate the drawbridge regardless.
"Aaaah," he said sarcastically. "Curses. The pain. Mario has defeated me again. Now I am drowning in my own lava. How ironic. My terrible plan has been foiled. Aaaah." He was submerged, then came back up, lying on his stomach. "Here, I just realized a major flaw in my plan: You can't get inside the castle if I activate the door myself, so here, just walk on my back to get across the lava."
Mario was puzzled, but stepped across anyway. "Uh, thanks, Bowser."
"Anytime, bro," Bowser said. "By the way, Peach called you a guinea. A stupid guinea, in fact."
He frowned. "What?!" Mario said, a bit offended. He rushed into the castle, and he had done this enough times that he knew exactly which room to find her.
"Peach!" he exclaimed.
"Hi Mario," she replied. "I, uh—"
"What's—ah this I hear about you throwing around ethnic slurs?" he asked crossly.
"Oh, I use it as a term of endearment! I'm sorry," she said.
"Maybe after you thank me, I'll accept your apology."
"Uh, yeah. Thanks again. Anyway…"
"You're not gonna give me a kiss or anything? That's-ah what you usually do..."
"Uh, kissing. Yeah, sure." She gave him a swift peck on the cheek, barely touching his skin, then hurriedly continued. "So as I was saying…oh, where was I? Oh yes! Mario, I-"
"Are you going to invite me for a slice of cake or something?" he asked innocently.
"What? No. I don't have any left over, or the ingredients to make one. So, as I was saying…"
"You seem tense, let me give ya a hug!" He embraced her by the waist while she stood erect and uncomfortable. She allowed it for a few seconds, but then alerted him.
"Mario." No response. "Mario?" Nothing. "Mario!"
"Wha—what?"
"You're crushing me! And…something else, probably…" As she uttered the last part her voice faltered.
"What something else? Did you ah-smuggle out a jewel from Bowser's hoard?" he chuckled.
"No, I…" she cleared her throat then spoke quickly and inaudibly. "I think I may be pregnant."
"I'm sorry?" he said.
"I think I may be pregnant," she whispered breathily.
"Come again?" he said.
"I THINK I MAY BE PRGNANT!" she shouted.
Mario raised his eyebrows with slight concern. "Ah, well okay. I can help you through this, Peach. Mi cugino had a deadbeat father and a single mother and he turned out okay."
"Well, that's the thing. I don't want the father to turn out to be a deadbeat because I've known him a while and he's my friend, but I'm afraid that once he knows, he'll get overwhelmed with responsibilities and run away and cut contact."
"Ah, dios mio, such cowardice," he giggled. "Heh, it's not Luigi, is it?"
"IT'S YOU!" she exclaimed. Mario stared blankly with his eyes wide and remained silent. Peach waved her hand in front of his face, searching for a response, but got nothing.
"You okay, Mario?" she asked.
"Yeah, yeah," he said. "I think I just-ah need to lie down, uh…" He bent his knees and put his palms on them, as if he were going to crawl on the floor, but then stood back up. "Actually, I think I'll just…" He then fell backwards from his heels, and Peach caught him by the shoulders. She gently slid the rest of him onto the floor as he intended.
She smiled to herself, embarrassedly. "I'll just wait 'til he gets up," she thought aloud.
Author's Note/Disclaimer: I apologize if you are offended by the term "guinea." I used it only to indicate Peach's frustration in that moment, and I am part-Italian myself and use it from time to time, mostly humorously, though I generally don't use it often. If you're uncomfortable with the term, I'd just like to let you know that I meant no harm in anyone by using it. I'm unashamed and proud of my heritage and use the traditionally degrading term as a symbol of honor and pride, or as a means to poke fun at my personal accounts of antics within the culture, not the accounts of it in general. With all that said, I hope you enjoyed, and please look forward to more chapters coming very soon!
