Be duly warned, this chapter gets very ugly as it progresses. But other than that...

Enjoy :)


Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Mario or its franchise. It belongs to Nintendo and creators.


Chapter Forty-Eight


"Majesty?"

Daisy flinched when Bowser stopped and jerked her to one right beside him. She was enraptured in her thoughts, those of killing the being at her left, and so her whole body was on edge, sensitive to touch. Especially the touch of his hot hands. For his part, he didn't notice a bit of this as he acknowledged the guard who'd addressed him. It was a Koopa. This one didn't glare at her.

"What is it?" Bowser asked impatiently.

The Koopa replied, "The palace has been released from lock-down mode, as per your request, sire."

"Good." He scowled, "Say that right in front of the fucking prisoner."

Daisy blinked: lock-down mode? Is that why there were so many guards and Ludwig said...whatever it was he said the other night? So that means I can probably get out of here!

The Koopa, having been upbraided, began to shift uneasily.

"Would you have me tell the General to reinstate the wards and barriers?" he asked.

Bowser shook his head, saying, "No. Just get out of here."

When the guard bowed and left, the royal turned to Daisy. She stiffened with his eyes upon her, but not out of fear. She was past that now. He'd done too much to her for her to cower before him. Now it was time to stop crying and act. She held her head high and jerked her arm from him, crossing the both of them over her chest. She was careful not to agitate the cut on her palm in the process.

Bowser smirked down at her, amused at her stalwart show of bravado. He hooked his finger under her chin and kissed her cheek. She let him.

Go ahead, get your last assaults in now, she encouraged within her mind, they'll be your last.

"So you heard," He murmured, "This palace is open. But it doesn't matter. You're not getting out anytime soon."

"That's what you think," She muttered.

"That's what I know, precious." He grinned, trying to kiss her full on.

She moved back and said, "Don't."

Bowser narrowed his eyes and said, "I think that's the problem right there. I've been too lenient with you, little girl. You say you don't want me touching you, but if only you knew I could do so much worse than just..."

He dragged his hands down the sides of her waist and finished with, "...touching you."

I do know you could do so much more than that, she thought hatefully, you would've raped me on more than one occasion if I hadn't fought back so hard. And I'll keep fighting until there's no more of you left to combat; I will kill you.

She winced and amended, for justification purposes, I have to.

Bowser ushered her the rest of the way to the kitchen in silence. Smug silence on his part, and a calculating sort on hers. When the two of them got there, she instantly forgot about her plans and was overcome with emotion. Everyone was there, bustling around and doing work. She recognized each of them, and that consoled her a bit seeing as they were still alive and well, but it also hurt her. In their eyes when they all turned to face her and the king was fear and confusion, not an ounce of recognition. She didn't know it 'til now, but she'd wanted to be missed. Deep down, she wanted to be able to smile at them and let them know that no, that little mute girl isn't dead, she's alright. Because she could see that her arrest before in the middle of the night had taken a toll on them, had slouched them over with sadness and aged their countenances that much more. To them, she was just some girl they'd never seen before, and that hurt her.

"Get out," Bowser ordered simply.

And under the Mistress' guidance, all of them did leave. But the petite woman was shrewder than Daisy had given her credit for, and she stayed behind a moment more. The way she had her coffee-colored eyes on the young girl, Daisy felt as if she were onto something; Does she...no, she can't...could she? The girl was hopeful as her Mistress continued to study her.

"Would you have me commission a portrait of her done?" Bowser quipped to the woman, "It would last longer."

The Mistress turned to him and was so bold to ask, "Who is she?"

"No one you need concern yourself with." He responded. "Leave."

This time the woman did go, but with a wholly unsatisfied curiosity in tow. She seemed perplexed because she felt as if she did know that girl, somehow, even though she was sure she hadn't seen a face like that since she'd been in service. Daisy was disappointed to see her go, for she had half-way wanted to see if her beloved Mistress would figure out the mystery of her dual identity.

I guess it was too much of a long shot, she thought in resignation. She wished there was someway she could say goodbye to them all, but she knew that wouldn't be possible. Once she did what she had to do, she'd be branded a murderer, and rightly so; because of that, she would have to flee as soon as possible.

"Now." Bowser spoke, "get on with it."

"Huh?" She frowned.

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" He asked sharply.

No, I was too busy mapping out my life as a fugitive vagabond, she thought wryly.

The king folded his arms and leaned against one of the counters. He pointed to the stove top and quirked a brow meaningfully. She then remembered why she was here, or was supposed to be here. The steak. Someone in the kitchens must have been in on this, for there was a thawed, uncooked steak lying docilely in a pan atop the stove's grill.

"I can't." She stalled.

He lifted a brow and said, "Oh? Why not?"

"My hand, it's cut." She answered, showing him the bloody palm he'd aggravated earlier.

Bowser gazed at the reddened, wounded appendage unaffectedly. No pity. No remorse. By this stage in her 'relationship' with him as her heartless captor, she knew not to expect any of those, not in this lifetime.

"Won't you wrap a dishcloth around it?" He suggested carelessly.

She frowned, "A dishcloth?"

Is he insane? I'll get infected or worse, not to mention it'll sting up a storm and probably make me cry. That's the last thing I wanna' do in front of him. But oh wait, why am I contemplating this? Of course he's not insane, he just doesn't care.

"I can't do that." She told him firmly.

Bowser sighed and pushed himself off the counter. He started walking towards her and she held her back erect, chin still raised. She showed no fear. He only spared her a brief glance as he walked past. Before he got out the door, he stopped and spoke with his back to her.

"I'll be right back." He said, "Arm yourself if you like, but it won't do you any good. And don't even think about escaping; there are guards here."

Naturally, after he'd gone, she gave it a good eight seconds before hurrying out the double doors behind him. She was immediately impeded by the Koopas that he said would be there. They need only fix her with that horrid black glare for her to retreat to the kitchen once more.

Okay, so running is out, she deduced, for now. Onto weapons.

Bowser had told her it would do no good if she were to arm herself, but she begged to differ. There was always good in having something, even if it were going to be taken from her. At least she would stand a chance.

Daisy took a standard knife, the same size as a plain butter knife but much sharper, and moved to the sink. She took the rag and ripped a piece of it off, then wrapped it around the blade before sticking it in her shoe. She then grabbed the biggest carving knife she could find, and also the second largest one as well. She kept these on hand, these were decoys, red herrings of sorts. She wanted to throw the king off. And speaking of that scornful bane, he was back.

Through the double doors he strolled, banging them open as was his style, and with him was his Court.

Great, like I need them right now, she grimaced.

Daisy hid the knives behind her back and then got a better idea: why let him take these from me when I could just make things easier on myself?

She laid the blades on the ends of the counter, quickly draping a rag over each of them. Then she turned back to where Bowser and his magicians were. The king was back at the counter while his Court made their way over to her. She forced herself not to shrink back, even with the memory of all the pain they'd caused her still fresh in her mind.

"Your hand," The cloaked one called Grimus implored.

She blinked and was still.

"Give them your hand, precious." Bowser instructed. "They'll be so kind as to heal it for you."

Oh right, he wants his steak, she realized.

Reluctantly Daisy stretched forth her injured hand, that was already smarting as if in anticipation of some forthcoming unpleasantness. But to her relief the magician only healed her, as Bowser said he would. One of them enshrouded her palm and digits in blue light while the other chanted something simultaneously. She was left with a pale white scar where that cut used to be. Even the blood was gone, the wet sticky sort and the sort that was beginning to dry and crust over. It was a relief.

Now I'm not at such a disadvantage, she thought, er, I mean besides his size and strength and abilities that is.

When the magicians then began patting her down, Daisy made a noise of surprise and leaped away from them. She frowned indignantly when they started closing in on her again.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Checking you for weapons, you silly girl." The king told her, "In fact, I think I'll do that instead."

"No!" She cried.

She would rather have the wizened old men check her than the king. With them she knew there was hate and hate alone, and that would keep them from violating her. But with Bowser, there was hate and lust and wanton desire. He would take things too far, he always did. She didn't want him near her. She might end up lashing out at him earlier than she'd planned.

"I'll let them do it." She almost pleaded.

The royal was immensely amused, and said, "Oh, but don't you like it when I touch you? I know I do."

Sick, sick fiend, she conveyed with her sharply narrowed eyes. He obliged her in that he let his Court do the patting down. They found nothing on her, and told the king as much. But Bowser was yet unconvinced.

"If you pull a weapon on me," He warned her, "I'll use it on you in ways you wouldn't like, my darling."

Daisy wanted to gag but all she did was make a disgusted face at the epithet. She ignored him and went over to the steak. As she turned on the fire at the grill, she glossed over the plan she'd been thinking of. Now, she wanted to make the steak. Get him to think she was playing along. And while he was consuming it, she would strike. First with the carving knife, and if that didn't do the trick, she'd use the other. The one in her shoe was a last resort, and her final act of defense would be to just run.

She glanced over her shoulder, behind her where the king was leaning on the counter by the sink. She hated him there, she wanted to be able to see him, to see what he was up to. Since she couldn't, the girl took a breath and went to work. The more she did that, the calmer she got. Neither the royal nor his subordinates made a sound as she seasoned the meat and prepared it the way she normally did. When it was the oven, she stood in front of it in wait with her arms folded. It was almost time. The meal would be done soon, and Bowser would eat it, would be distracted.

Now where are those blades again?

"Is it finished?"

Daisy stiffened. Standing behind her was the king, his arms around her middle and his mouth near her ear lobe. She shivered in revulsion and tried to shrug him off like a thrift store coat but he wouldn't budge.

"Almost." She answered.

And so are you, she added darkly. That actually made her smirk. Her, good and sweet Daisy. She convinced herself it was a combination of the irony of his asking that and her coinciding thought, coupled with the fact that he had no clue what was really on her mind. The killing was not the ulterior impetus behind her smile, she told herself. Wasn't it though?

No.

Of course not. That would just be wrong.

"Take it out," Bowser ordered into the side of her neck.

He picked at her skin there with his warm lips, kissing and raking his teeth over her flesh as if he'd eat her instead. And if that wasn't a chilling thought.

Daisy elbowed away from him, not as hard as she would have liked to, and did as he'd told her. She removed the steak from the hot oven and then slid it onto the pan. After the last steps were done, she forked the meat onto a plate and handed it to the king. He smirked down at it.

"It does look so very good," He murmured.

But then he handed the dish over to the one called Rhimes and told the magicians to scan the meal.

But of course, Daisy remembered, he still thinks I poisoned him. As she'd expected, the magicians had no such foul play to report of, and handed the dish back to their liege. Bowser tilted his head. Instead of pleasing the king, this news seemed to trouble him.

"Well if you didn't do it, who did?" He asked her.

"Did what?" she replied innocently.

The Dark King gazed at her critically and growled, "You know damn well what, now answer me!"

And there it was, his anger. So quick to make an appearance. She did well to step back but he balanced the plate easily in one hand and reached out to grip her chin in his fingers. His grip was hard and made the bones in her jaw hurt.

"Answer me, precious, and I won't have to hurt you." He crooned, gentle all of a sudden unlike his grip may suggest.

Daisy shook her head and said, "I don't know."

"Who are you working for?"

"I don't-"

"Don't tell me you don't know!" He roared.

Daisy flinched and decided to placate him. She wrung her hands together and figured out exactly what she would say before speaking again.

"Ludwig." She replied. "Ludwig is who I work for."

And as she might have predicted, he was a bit stunned, taken aback. Bowser released her chin and gazed off, to the side. His jade eyes seemed distant and foggy as he relayed his last encounters with the young man he'd deemed his protege. While he did that, Daisy inched over to the counter adjacent to the sink. That was where her two blades were lying, hidden beneath the rags still. She was in place when Bowser dismissed his magicians.

"Leave us," he commanded.

"But Majesty-"

"Get out!" He barked, not to be disobeyed.

They acquiesced in a flurry of dragging robes and shuffling feet and bowed heads, shutting the double doors behind them. With them gone, Daisy thought the king's wrath would thus be transferred to her but no, he was not angry. That grin was triumphant.

"Was that so hard?" He asked as he came near.

Ludwig might be angry, but if I know him he'll work his way around this, she hoped. She didn't like selling out the ex-enforcer who'd helped her so much, but if she continued to play her cards just right, there would be no king to dole out repercussions.

"Now tell me," Bowser drawled, "How long have you been working with Ludwig?"

Daisy put her arm behind her. "From the start."

"How very interesting." He remarked.

She subtly worked her fingers up the counter, under the rag, and around the hilt of that big carving blade. Bowser was none the wiser as he mulled over her admission.

"Did he send you here?"

"Yes."

"And for what purpose, my darling?"

"I don't know."

Bowser's face became slated, his features muted. He stepped right in front of her and put his palms flat on either side of the counter next to her elbows. Now her arm was stuck in an uncomfortable position, and if she tried to bring it around she'd either have to let go of the knife (which she wasn't doing) or lose momentum from where she would inevitably cut his arm on the way to his heart. That obstruction would no doubt give him time to burn her or do something to stop his death.

"Look at me."

She hadn't heard whatever it was he was saying before so now he had his fingers over her throat, nudging her head up so that her light eyes met his. She swallowed and kept a clammy hold on that knife.

"Is he your lover?"

"You asked me that," She immediately stated.

"Is he?" Bowser pressed, "Has he touched you since you've been here?"

"Huh?"

"Answer me." The king hissed.

"No." She replied honestly, thinking, that's just...that would be so...no.

The face she was making probably sealed the deal in getting the capricious royal to believe her this second time around.

"Who took my son?"

"I don't know."

"Who took my woman?" The king then asked, "Was it Ludwig? Or the other one? The one in my dungeons?"

Flippantly she replied, "I don't know; I wasn't there."

"You'll be there to see your boyfriend hung if you don't cooperate." He threatened casually.

The girl sobered quickly at that.

The Dark King asked, "So did the plumber take my woman?"

"No." She answered.

"Then why is he here?" He countered.

Daisy was quiet. She had forgotten about Luigi almost. She had to be successful, otherwise he would still be here and would have to deal with whatever vengeful rage Bowser had against her.

"Well?" Bowser snapped.

She blinked and asked, "What?"

"Why is that punk here? Did Ludwig send him too?" He asked.

"I don't think so."

"Oh? So he came on his own?" Bowser asked, then sneered, "Did he come to rescue you?"

"And if he did?" she challenged.

The king barked out a laugh. "Then I'd say what a sorry sap he is, because you're mine."

"I don't belong to you!" Daisy glared.

"Don't make me prove you wrong, little girl." He warned in a husky voice.

"If I stay here," She bargained, "will you let Luigi go?"

Bowser sneered and said, "Why should I?"

"Because he didn't do anything wrong; he only came here to help me." She argued.

That was stretching things but oh well: if it worked, it worked.

It didn't work.

"That little shit attacked me," Bowser told her, "He's hardly innocent. And besides, he has answers about this whole mess that I'd like to get from him."

Daisy said softly, "I could give you those answers."

"You could give me lies."

"I won't lie."

"You're lying to me now."

Daisy worried her lip.

"There's nothing you can say," Bowser said, "That would make me release him...But there might be something you can do that would change my mind."

"...Like what?" She asked warily.

He reached behind her and seized her wrist, the one where the carving knife was there still clenched in her fist incriminatingly. She flushed at having been found out but he only smirked.

"Like not stab me, for starters." He chided with a grin.

To her dismay he checked her other side and saw the rag-covered knife there. He then tossed both weapons away, far from her immediate reach. Her disappointment was short-lived, because that unpleasant pinch under her right sole meant that she had but one more item at her disposal. She was wise not to smile and let on her cunning, though. So Bowser continued to grin as if he'd won something.

"Now," He stated, "If you really want to do your boyfriend any favors, you'd better do it now."

"I don't understand," She frowned.

"You said you want me to spare his worthless life, ne?" The king asked.

She nodded slowly.

"Then persuade me, my darling." He commanded, "Show me why I should deny myself the utmost pleasure of seeing one of my most annoying enemies slain."

Daisy swallowed hard. I said I would play along, but by my terms only. So I will, for Luigi's sake. Besides, he won't have to know about this if I can kill the Dark King. She blinked hard and took a breath.

Then she whispered, "I could give you m-more."

A fire ignited in those gold flecks within his jade eyes. When he heard those words coming from her mouth, his body reacted in the way that a pack of wolves would upon being thrown a giant slab of raw meat.

"You can give me more? More what, precious? Pleasure?" He whispered heavily.

The king bowed his head over her mouth and caught each shortened breath of hers when she responded.

"Yes."

Just think about something else, anything else, it'll be over soon.

"I don't think you can," He challenged.

And with his mouth so close to hers, she pushed herself up on the balls of her feet and pecked her lips against his. It wasn't a kiss, her mouth was too tightly shut, but the taste of her petal-soft, cherry red lips aroused a more primeval part in him and that was all the invitation he needed to take control.

She did remain platonic while he ravaged her mouth with his own. She ignored every instinct screaming inside her to combat his advances as he tasted and touched what didn't belong to him, for she was biding her time. Part of her was amazed that this was all it took for him to lose himself. Her body, it was a powerful thing. She only just now truly realized that. And not a moment too late, either, for it was working grandly in her favor.

Bowser clamped his hands over her thighs as he moved from her mouth down her jaw and the side of her throat, and she held her trembling at bay. He hooked an arm under her knees and lifted her from the floor to the counter. There he parted her legs and let himself through: she felt the panic rise in her again.

He's not going to rape me. I won't let him rape me, she chanted to calm herself. She had to remain in control for that mantra to ring true.

So she allowed him, no, encouraged him to keep trailing kisses along her neck by moving a shaky hand to the back of his head. She hated herself for it, but it was starting to feel less like torment and more like. Like something else. Her body was getting hot and a faint sweat was starting to coat her skin. And then he had to speak to her, as if his hands and mouth weren't dangerous enough he had to bring that low, seductive, hoarse voice of his into the mix to cloud her mind.

"For your sake," he breathed, "I hope you know what you're doing."

And she did. She wouldn't unleash this predatory beast within him unless she had a plan. This was a double-edged sword, she was finding out firsthand now, and so she had to act quickly lest she succumb to him.

I have to stay focused, she thought, the knife is in my shoe, so if I could just get it out. But how? His body's in the way. Maybe if I...Mortification prevented her from putting into words her next actions. She colored a bit as she did them, too: with hesitance she brought her leg up the side of his hip, slowly because it was starting to quiver from a sum of bad nerves and augmenting emotions. Bowser noticed what she was doing and took her thigh, hooking it around his torso the rest of the way along with her other leg. Now she was closer than she ever wanted to be to this tyrant and to make matters worse, he was starting to turn her on. When he ground his body into hers and bit down on her neck, she knew it was now or never, as in she had to kill this man now or she'd never untangle her legs from around him of her own volition.

Daisy craned her head over his shoulder, trying her damn hardest to ignore that heat that was growing each time he stroked his fiery tongue over her neck or rocked his body into hers. Instead she made a show of sliding her hands down his back in order to get to the knife in her shoe. Her hands turned to hooked fingers turned to nails as his ministrations became more intense. But she got down to her shoe and pried it from her foot with quivering digits. The blade, still wrapped in a rag, was clenched between two of her toes. She was doing it more against the roiling pleasure than to hold onto the knife, truth be told.

The man is a monster but he knows what he's doing, she grudgingly knew, and he's making this so hard for me.

With the knife in her hand, she channeled the last of her waning will into bringing the knife up past his spine and pushing that blade deep into the back of his neck. Instantly the king still, then pulled back and regarded her. His eyes widened and twitched twice. He pulled back his hand and slapped her hard, then fell onto the floor. Daisy sat there, cheek burning, and stared at the fallen king. She cupped her hand to her stinging face absently in that silent kitchen and blinked.

Is he dead?

He lay on his side, with the blade still lodged at the nape of his neck. It hadn't gone far, but there he lay motionless, his crimson blood pooling around him. She averted her eyes and hopped gingerly down from the counter. She looked around for the knife he'd thrown; there, over by the stove, they were there. She crossed the room and headed towards them.

Her steps seemed too small, too slow; she didn't seem to get there fast enough. And when she bent down to pick them up, she felt it. Something in the air had changed, and fast. Very carefully she grasped one of the knives and stood up. Panting shallowly and trembling all over, Daisy turned around.

"Where."

No.

"The fuck."

No!

"Do you think."

No, no, please, no!

"You're going?"

No! He can't be! It's not real! He can't be! I just!

Her eyes did not lie, the Dark King yet lived. He stood there, leaning on the counter opposite her for support, holding a hand to the back of his head. He winced deeply, like a lion baring its fangs, as he ripped the knife from his skull and studied it with wild eyes.

Daisy spread her feet and held her knife out in front of her in both hands, though she couldn't keep the thing still. Bowser sneered at her.

"You viper!" He spat, "You little bitch, you just don't learn, do you? You're mine."

"No." she choked out, steadying the knife.

"Yes you are!" He roared, "You can't kill me, you stupid little creature, don't you understand?!"

His voice was mightier than the four walls in the kitchen and she felt herself shudder at the force of it. He began ambling towards her, his intentions clear in the way he held the knife out towards her. Blind fear had her stumbling backwards. When he was upon her she swiped at him with the blade but that was over quickly; he crushed her wrist when he wrapped his fist around it and set it afire, then plunged the other blade, still coated in his own blood, into her stomach.

She screamed and pulled her good hand to her belly while trying to wipe the hot melted metal from her burned fingertips on the side of her dress. The sight of the red, blistering thing that was just a few seconds ago her hand nearly made her vomit. Bowser cackled and kept his hands ablaze. His cruel laughter gave rise to her feral anger, which in turn fueled her to think in a more unorthodox, sadistic way. She reached into her hair and pulled that expensive diamond-encrusted, bar-shaped clip from her locks. His confused expression was replaced with a look of anguish as she jammed the thing into one of his jade eyes.

Daisy was free from him and she used her independence wisely, heading around him to the stove where the pan sat atop a fire that was still going. It was nice and hot when she hefted the handle into both of her hands. It was her turn to shriek again at the white-hot agony that almost made her drop her weapon: her blistered hand was giving her hell. But she grabbed a rag from the sink for that and the cool, wet, food-stained cloth alleviated a tiny bit of the stinging.

The girl balanced the hot pan in her hands and gritted her teeth against her punctured stomach. She set her features in this mask of a hardened killer, a thick-skinned murderer. One that was unaffected by her fleshly casualties for all the haze that taking a life. She didn't flinch when she swung the pan back, nor did she bat an eye when it connected with the side of Bowser's alarmed face. She swung the thing at him again, and again to make him fall to his knees. Once more to the back of his neck where she'd stabbed him, and two more times because she hated him that much. The last time she hit him, she let the pan drop down next to his bludgeoned skull and marveled distantly at the way he lay there, face-down, unmoving. This time she was not so foolish as to believe him dead, even if he were. She fell to her knees since they'd buckled and crawled over to where that other knife was.

The girl wiped the back of her sweaty, bloody arm over her face and grabbed the slightly smaller carving blade. With it, she started to make her way back over to the king. It was an arduous crawl, her blistered hand and bleeding stomach making things difficult, and her knees refusing to allow her to walk properly. Every time her stomach clenched, she saw black dots and little white stars in the thresholds of her vision, she had to take in deep gasping breaths and struggle to stay upright. She gripped the knife, though, and slammed it down against the tiled floor with each inch she covered in her journey to the king's felled body. Her muscles trembled and ached and threatened to go limp on her but she pushed herself. When she finally made it to his boots, she grabbed onto one of them and used it to pull herself farther towards him. The girl straddled his waist and leaked blood all over his shirt, darkening it a crude, burgundy color. She gripped the knife in her good hand and raised it high, high above her head until the cut on her stomach tore. That was when she shrieked and slammed the blade into the middle of his spine, between his blades. She stabbed him once because that's all she had in her, but oh did she drive that blade in deep.

"This." She coughed, "this is for everything you put me through, you bastard!"

Her scream was full of righteous fury and pain, so much pain. The girl pursed her lips and gave the hilt a rough twist, then let it stay there, lodged in the king's still body. She panted with her palm against his soaked shirt and her injured one up to her chest. Her body swayed dizzily and her head grew light. In all this she didn't notice that she wasn't alone.

No, she wasn't the only who'd found out about the wards being down around the palace. A certain young man stood off to the side, completely unseen because the girl was too engrossed with the aftermath of her encounter and the male below her, having been the victim of that encounter, was now unconscious. This young man might have been a bit more concerned with the state of the king, who was somewhat of a superior to him though he'd never admit it, but at the moment he was too enthralled with the girl.

The girl.

That girl. She was a thing of immense wonder to him, all messy and weak and yet so resilient, so strong. Who would have guessed that it would be her to have slighted the mighty Dark King in a way that left him bloodied on the kitchen floor? Who would have thought it would be her? This girl, this sweet-faced former princess? Certainly not him, and he'd been known to place faith in oddities such as this. This girl had him feeling something, he couldn't figure out just what at the time, but she had him feeling some kind of way.

And then she collapsed.

In a heap she lay atop the king in an almost intimate sort of embrace, were it not for all the blood, that is. The sight unnerved him, propelled him to step over to her and remove her from that unfitting bed of a man and settle her in his arms. He gazed down at her face, a serene, docile one it was, and shook his head: what a confounding young thing she was.


A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Don't you dare hesitate to leave a review, you guys, I love, love, LOVE hearing what you have to say! It's a huge reason behind why I keep posting chapters, heh.

So yeah, like I said, this chapter got pretty ugly. But the worst is not over. Luigi is down there, in a cell, unknowing of what's transpired. How will he take the news? How will Bowser's Court take the news? And Mario?

And what about Peasley? Anybody care about him? Some people have been asking, so I'll be getting to his side of things soon :)

As usual, I'll see you guys next update. Until that time...

~DymondGold~