A/N: First, major apology. This chapter was very slow coming and I have no real excuse, the best I can do is say that real life got in the way of true happiness. I'm not too sure about this chapter though I think the idea is great, thanks to iluvchocs, I just couldn't write it (stupid writers block!), I fear science and media studies are killing my imagination. I will try and make updates quicker but I'm not at home much over the Christmas holidays so I don't know if it will happen. Now, on with the story!
Buckets
"Perfect," smiled Jon. He shared a small giggle with himself, well there was no one there to share his laughter with. That's what happens when you lie awake in bed until three in the afternoon when you should be running a country.
Jon leaned back on his throne. He had just set up his little joke which, if all went as planned, would embarrass his champion in front of everyone. A slightly manic smile stretched across his face.
"Presenting Ambassador Frederick Trumpton of Scanra and his wife Anne Trumpton!" cried the herald. There was a huge crash as a rather disgruntled ambassador entered the great hall.
"What is the meaning of this?" yelled the ambassador as he appeared from the doorway thoroughly drenched in water.
"My sincerest apologies, I do not know what happened," explained Jon, he didn't want the discussions with Scanra to be called off.
"Presenting Lord Marcus of Berry Vine in Tyra!" announced the herald. Yet again there was a huge crash as a soaking Lord entered he ballroom.
"Presenting Sir Arthur of Raymouth!" called the herald. The was, another, crash. Thayet had begun wondering how Jon had the time to go back and reset the prank every time it went wrong, which so far, was every time.
"Excuse me Your Majesty," inquired a voice of a Lady who had just entered through the side door, "do you know why those ambassadors got covered in water?"
"Well my Lady," he began to answer as he turned around, "Alanna?"
"Yes Your Majesty that is my name. I thought you would know that my now, or had it slipped your memory?"
"But, but" he stammered, "it was fool-proof!"
"Obviously not."
"It, it was, b-b-brr-illiant though!"
"Jon dear, you're stuttering again," interrupted Thayet.