Chapter One –

Life has a strange way of sorting out people's affairs. More often than not, it fluffs something up and just leaves the matter for Time to sort out. Time sometimes gets a bit annoyed by this and occasionally decides to muck about, just to get on Life's nerves.

This is how our story begins...

Once upon a time, there was a stereotypical king of a stereotypical kingdom called Nibble. He, in turn, had around seventeen thousand stereotypical daughters who were all, like, really beautiful and shit. "Hang on!" I hear you say. "How on Earth is it possible for one man to have seventeen thousand daughters?" Well, this was one of those times Life fluffed something up. Yes, that's right. Blame Life.

Anyway, yes. All of the king's daughters (let's call him Bilp) were all exceedingly beautiful and could sing like pretty much every nightingale in the kingdom. (Except the drunk ones; Bilp had a thing about alcoholism.) Yet, instead of cherishing all of his wonderfully gorgeous and talented spawn, he yearned for a boy, because that is what stereotypical kings do.

"Crikey," King Bilp said one day, leaning out of the window and staring across the landscape of the excruciatingly beautiful kingdom of Nibble. "I could really do with a bloke around my excruciatingly beautiful palace..." Only that morning, a princess named Gloria #3 discovered that her comb had been nicked and had needed to be sedated by several court physicians. Only last week, Lucy#9 broke a nail and her screams could have been heard by the inhabitants of the neighbouring kingdom of Frgfwbvljhecdwkgfl. (Nice place by the way.) There was only so much girly-ness that Bilp could take.

Bilp sighed in an exasperated fashion. This would not be easy.

For a start, he had run out of women to marry. Seventeen thousand daughters don't come from nowhere (even if they are stereotypical) and soon enough, Bilp had exhausted the kingdom's entire supply of women. "Why didn't he just stick with the one then?" I hear you ask. Well, King Bilp never was exactly the most attractive bloke in the universe and the new wives seemed to have an annoying habit of divorcing him.

Bilp consulted his brain for cunning plans. Unfortunately, he seemed to have exhausted his supply of cunningness only that morning stealing Princess Gloria #3's comb. He had also splashed out on a bit of cunningness last week by breaking Princess Lucy #9's nail while she wasn't looking. He was all out of cunning.

Bilp sighed again, it was becoming a habit.

Apart from the lack of male heir, the kingdom of Nibble had been fairly quiet for the last few hundred years of King Bilp's rein. "Hang on! How can one man rule for over a few centuries?!" I hear you wail in confusion. Well, this was Time's response to Life fluffing up the daughter issue. An eye for an eye and all that...

Anyway, the kingdom of Nibble had been a fairly quiet place for the last few hundred years. The people had been able to get on with their lives, paying way too much for cheesecake, building estates in the middle of farmer's fields without permission and creating really boring documentaries about themselves for no reason whatsoever. So, of course, it was about time somebody invaded.

Question of invasion, however, was quite possibly the last thing on King Bilp's mind as he hung out of the 19th storey window of the royal palace.

"Oh deary, dear..." He groaned. "I could really do with a fella..."

*

Upstairs, in one of the more secluded of the towers, Princess Sarah #563 was busy brushing her hair. There was no particular reason why five hundred and sixty three of King Bilp's daughters were called Sarah; he just seemed to like the name. Princess Sarah #563 found the sharing of a name degrading and so asked her friends to call her Ted for short.

Ted finished combing her hair and turned to her mirror.

"Hello, Mirror..." She said.

"Howdy there, Ted!" It replied, in an overly perky manner. "How are you today?"

"I'm ok, thanks." Ted replied. "How're you?"

"Well..." The mirror began. "I'm still a bit bummed about being attached to a wall. My mate Brian's part of a mosaic and he reckons it's a bit more exciting. But, apart from that, I'm ok really."

"Good." Ted smiled a beautiful smile that made the mirror's nonexistent heart melt with love and cuddles and joy. "What do I look like?"

"Lovely..." The mirror replied with difficulty, due to the fact its nonexistent heart was melting.

"Why thanks!" Ted flashed the mirror another grin and it winced and more melting followed. "Are you ok?"

"Yes..." The mirror squeaked. "Just don't grin anymore."

"Ok..."

"My God, Ted," The mirror gasped. "You're so obliging!"

"It's nothing!" Ted was about to grin again, but she caught herself just in time.

At that precise moment in time, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Ted sang in the manner of a definitely not drunken nightingale. The door opened and a squire bowed deeply.

"Your highness..." He said. "Here is an invitation to the royal ball."

"But I am royal," Ted said, taking the invitation. "Why do I need an invitation to my own ball?"

"Copyright." The squire replied, as if that settled the matter.

"Oh er...right." Ted opened the letter.

It was typed in an annoyingly elegant script.

You are invited to King Bilp of Nibble's Summer Ball. It's going to be quite posh so wear something nice, otherwise we will be forced to pretend we don't know who you are. Desserts will be shot.

"Erm..." Ted said. "You know this bit about shooting desserts?"

"Yes?"

"Well...erm....what does that mean?"

"It's a typo." The squire explained. "By the time we noticed it, we'd already printed out about five hundred and we really couldn't be arsed to turn the thing off."

"Oh." Ted frowned. "What is it supposed to say then?"

"Deserters."

"Oh, right."

"I like trifle." The mirror piped up.

"So do I." Ted said, smiling.

"If you don't mind," The squire said in a manner that quite clearly stated that he didn't care whether she minded or not. "I'd better be off. I've got another sixteen thousand, eight hundred and forty nine of these buggers to deliver..." He indicated the bag of invitations. "...and I think I'd better press on."

"You mean you have to deliver one to every single princess?" The mirror asked.

"Yes." Said the squire.

"Don't your feet hurt?"

"Yes they do." There was silence.

"Bugger of a world isn't it?" The mirror said.

"Yes it is..." The squire jostled the bag mournfully. "I'd better get going...bye..." The door shut behind him and the mirror watched it for a few moments, sympathy for the squire building up inside him. Thoughts of the blisters on the poor little chap's feet conjuring up feelings of sorrow the mirror never knew he had within him -

"So, a ball..." Ted said, turning the invitation over in her hands. "I need a killer outfit, Big M."

"Big M?" The mirror asked.

"Yeah, Big M." Ted smiled. "I thought it would be cool if I called you that..."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"Right." Silence.

"Anyway, so about this dress..." Ted crossed to the desk in one corner of the room and pulled a piece of parchment towards her, scattering the no doubt priceless trinkets, where they rolled off the desk and smashed on the floor. "It has to be bold..." Ted began to sketch, her tongue peeking out as she drew.

"I like it..." The mirror said. "But what are you expecting to achieve from this event?"

"Cake." Ted replied simply. Her answer was self – explanatory. The mirror nodded darkly.

Little did they know, that roughly two miles away, a magician was turning a squirrel into an evil psychopath...