See, look, I can do it too. I can never finish anything, but I can finish a drabble. And apparently drabbling helps take out frustrations caused by my new college room mates. This is the first of several thusly inspired, and the first of several facepalms. Seriously, those girls are going to drive me up a tree.
Disclaimers are for scrubs like me who don't own things.
This… rage. It was intense, like the hottest fire of a forge, powerful yet contained. All consuming one minute, gone the next.
Arthur wasn't sure how much longer he could do this, smiling and making nice when those blasted females were trying to temp him otherwise. Sometimes he thought another hour with them would bring about their demise at his hands. The harpies couldn't stop bitching, and whining, and trying to control other people's business.
Princesses were surely invented to drive sane people to murder. There was a reason Arthur was gay, he told his father. And then Uther facepalmed.