If my writing ever starts to suck major eggs, please tell me. I can't tell bc sometimes I feel like I did a bad job, and people say it's good, and sometimes I'm confident and find out it was terrible later, so just let me know; I appreciate it :)
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Mario or its franchise; it belongs to
Nintendo and their affiliates. I just am really grateful to its creators for giving
me such a wonderful game and media series to write about!
I also don't own anything related to Harry Potter, all that belongs to J.K. Rowling,
but thanks go to her as well because, using her wonderful work, I can expand this
story to make it more interesting.
I also don't own anything related to Naruto if you see me throw a little of that, too.
Chapter Fourteen
The fact that she was sitting out by the empty shores spoke of her inability to sleep. Daisy just couldn't stop replaying the events over and over again in her head; from the time she and her troops arrived at Muda, to the waiting and waiting, to the highlight of the day: the nasty old man's appearance. She made a face just thinking about him.
And I still don't know his name, she thought to herself, garnering a small, dry smile.
In truth she was deeply bothered by the encounter, and not just for the obvious reasons. He'd not only denounced her father, who she loved dearly, but he'd also sowed seeds of doubt in her heart about whether or not she was supposed to be here, doing this, ruling this country.
The young woman, who was sitting with her legs crossed, stretched out until she was flat on her back. Her hair splayed out around her head and her aching body gave a collective shudder of relief at this new position. She didn't know it earlier, but her back was sore and it felt good to finally just lay down and rest. Daisy gazed up above herself at the huge white moon and felt her breathing slow. One hand lay draped over her stomach, the other rested atop the sugar-white sand. But little discomforts made themselves known, like how her feet longed to be rid of their coverings and how her cloak was seriously getting in the way of further relaxation. So she sat up slowly and undid the clasp at her neck, letting the silken fabric fall from her shoulders and onto the ground. She pushed it off to the side and leaned forward to take off her boots and socks. Once those were shorn, she ran a hand through her long hair and shivered in her short-sleeved blouse and pants. The pants were meant to be worn with knee-length boots and thus ended right at the start of her calves. She was under-dressed for the cool night's weather and shivered, but she figured she'd delight in the cold. It helped her think more clearly and kept her alert; she didn't want to fall asleep.
Not like that will happening soon, Daisy thought as she laid back down flat against the earth. She stretched her legs to the very toes and released a satisfied hum. At least her body was settled where her mind was not. And speaking of that, it wasn't long before those nagging fears started coming back. No sooner had the girl closed her eyes and let the wind ghost over her face did the face of that detestable man pop into her mind's eye.
I can be mad at him all I want, but I can't deny the fact that he was right on at least one account...dad abandoned his country...
Now Daisy knew he had his reasons. He wanted to protect her and her mama and her cousins before Tatanga could get to them.
But still, that doesn't justify fleeing your country when your people need you, Daisy knew. She also knew that if her father hadn't done what he did, she wouldn't be here, so the matter wasn't worth scrutinizing. She, as a ruler, probably wouldn't do what her dad did if a crisis situation arose.
But what if Luigi was liable to get hurt...or die? Could I let him die for the good of everyone else?
Daisy's red mouth puckered as she reasoned, I'm sure I would figure something out if that ever happened. And Luigi is very strong, he's not totally dependent on my protection. He can make his own choices, he's not a child like how I was when my father smuggled us out.
So in Daisy's mind, though her father's actions spoke of selfishness and perhaps even cowardice to a degree, she couldn't bring herself to fault him. He did what he did because he loved his family...more than his country. Was that really such a crime?
It is when you're king.
"Ugh. Why speculate about the past?"She griped aloud, opening her light eyes.
Daisy again stared at the luminescent white moon and understood why the old man from earlier felt the way he did. Her father left when Sarasaland was under attack and, if his word was true, this man stepped up to the plate and took care of the people. That was something to be commended, his awful attitude notwithstanding. Regardless of his political views, his actions were indubitably responsible and noteworthy and perhaps her father did make a mistake in not awarding him a leadership position years ago.
No, she considered, if my father declined despite this man's attributes, there had to be a reason for it. My father was just, he had to have known something about the man that wouldn't mix well with power.
But then, that may have just been her recalling her father's character with generous integrity. Even still, Daisy felt a bit troubled knowing this man could get the people of Muda to follow him when she, their princess and ruler, had arrived.
Maybe it'll just take time for them to see I'm not going anywhere.
And then what? Would they take her seriously? Or would they see her as a fumbling child, or worse, would they never cease to see her father's betrayal when they regarded her? Could the damage be undone?
Perhaps, but I'll have to get the people to trust me, Daisy knew.
And that matter was somewhat more resolved in her mind than it was earlier, now that she had a solution to work towards. But then the doubts returned yet again.
Did I really make the right choice in coming here, she wondered. If I hadn't, the Council could have ruled in my place. They would have put someone decent on the throne and I could have lived in a world far away with the man I love and my best friend and we could be happy and semi-care-free.
Daisy rolled onto her side and felt the sand grains embed themselves into her cheek and ear and hair. She stared at the long stretch of shore and worried the corner of her lip.
Maybe I should have just stayed in Brooklyn, the girl thought sadly. If I had, I'd be with Luigi right now. When was the last time we even did anything together? Besides sleep in the same bed.
And because her mind was strange, the thought of a bed led to the image of a certain large one, decked out in heavy silk sheets and covered in the glow of a candle chandelier. Daisy shivered and not because of the cold this time. She hated to think of him, but it brought up a good point.
If she were in Brooklyn with the Dark King at large, would Sarasaland stand a chance against him?
She would like to think they would, but just looking at what Tatanga accomplished gave her room for doubt.
At least if I'm here, I can tackle this problem once and for all, Daisy acceded.
Having worked through the issues plaguing her, Daisy's eyes began to close. She couldn't think of anything else that was bothering her, so tiredness began to reign over her body.
She had to have gone to sleep, because a shift in the wind woke her up some time later.
She just felt an icy breeze swarm over her face, arms, and her stomach where the wind had blown up her shirt. The first thing Daisy did after blearily blinking and pulling down her shirt was sit up and glance warily around her. Behind her, she saw the numerous tents where her troops slept. Daisy then faced forward and gazed out at the sea.
And promptly widened her eyes.
If she hadn't been taught early on of their race, she'd have mistaken the figures coming her way for very skilled swimmers. But not human were these creatures, even though they bore the visage of her race. Their bodies were much more adept at skimming through the waters than any human could hope to be. Daisy knew exactly what and who these creatures were, but she couldn't believe she was seeing them now. Part of her thought she was still asleep. That could explain why, when the figures drew near, she remained rooted to her spot.
There had to be at least a hundred of them, coming towards her faster than the sun was coming up on the horizon. Their heads dipped above and below the water as they approached the sitting princess and the many appeared to be led by one. That one was the only one to come ashore, and the process by which she did it was something marvelous and slightly frightening and impossible to put into exact words. At the same time as the leader set fin-turned-foot onto the ground, blind curiosity led the brunette to rise and take small, cautious steps over to the newcomer.
She knew it was rude, but Daisy couldn't stop staring at the other female's foot. It wasn't anything special, per say, just a pale, stone-grey humanoid appendage with what looked like seaweed stuck around the slim ankle. But to see two feet where there was only seconds ago a fin was slightly disturbing. And if that was disturbing, the rest of the leader's body was simply disconcerting on a discordian level. Like a fish, those eyes were black all over, but were set between thick, long lashes and delicate, faint brows. A sharp nose and sharper cheekbones made up a very angular face and the hair that framed it was short and black and glossy from its wetness as it lay slicked down in front of both rounded, large ears. The clear-colored circlet around the female's head looked as if there were no end to it, as if it were a part of her body.
It is, Daisy recalled from a former lesson on the traits and characteristics of their species. She recalled also that these were creatures of the night, deadly creatures who were once roamers of the earth along with the humans of Muda but now never set foot on land nor showed their faces to anyone.
Until now, that is.
Though, only one of them stood on land and the rest lurked underwater with only the tops of their heads exposed, creating an eerie sight of a thousand black eyes peering out from the expanse of the sea. Again Daisy shivered and drew her eyes from the many that stared back at her to the pair that were rapidly changing. To her immense surprise, the leader was blinking quickly and with each flutter of her long lashes, the blackness seemed to drain from her eyes until it'd been reduced to the sized of a single, seemingly normal black pupil in the center of pure white. Daisy dared not blink herself lest she miss another transformation.
And another did happen, this time around her neck.
Where there were a set of gills on each side, the flaps of skin melded themselves closed so that the only evidence of them having been there were thin lines like scars. That was the end of the female's changing and she stood before Daisy stalwartly, not so much as shivering in the cold though she wore very little over her exposed skin, skin which, upon closer inspection, Daisy could see was scaly all over.
Innate civility and her not knowing what else to do led Daisy to bow formally at the waist as she would a foreign dignitary. Her hair brushed her cheeks as she dropped her head parallel to the ground. When she rose again, she rubbed her hands over her bare arms and saw the other female smirk.
But that was just before she, too, inclined her head in a respectful bow. It was now that Daisy could see the female had more hair, pinned in an odd, elaborate way at the back of her head. She lifted her head and that pale grey mouth parted to give way to speech.
"Princess Daisy Sarasa, of Chai Kingdom, ruler of Sarasaland."
It wasn't her words that had Daisy fixed on her mouth, it was the strangeness of what lay beyond those thin grey lips that made an uncomfortable tingle go up her spine. The female had a double set of sharp, tiny teeth that showed as she spoke. She seemed to notice Daisy's mounting fear because her mouth pulled apart in a superior, thoroughly alarming grin.
"They cut through flesh, Princess." The leader remarked in a soft, amused, conspiratorial voice.
Flesh. Whether she was referring to the flesh of fish or humans or otherwise, Daisy didn't know. But she did know that she was the source of the other female's augmenting mirth and it made her feel like a child. She lifted her chin and locked eyes with the other creature as though her heart weren't pounding away and her blood wasn't rushing in her veins and her entire mind wasn't screaming at her to run far, far away.
Because mermaids kill. They kill humans. They eat people.
But they're also said to be arrogant and capricious and easily provoked; if I run, they may give chase, and I'm sooo outnumbered it's not even funny, Daisy's thoughts raced and her fear was almost palpable at this point.
The mermaids' leader smirked, albeit with her mouth closed this time, and blinked coyly. She moved her hand forward and just barely touched the side of Daisy's cheek.
"I've never seen one as young as you," The leader remarked quietly.
Daisy didn't ask to what she was referring, she was too busy willing her body not to tense up like it wanted to at the feathery touch of those freezing digits. But when she did speak, it was in a clear, steady voice.
"Why have you come here?"
She didn't get an answer, just another coy smirk and a lean, wild look in those beautiful eyes that didn't alleviate Daisy's fears of becoming mermaid meal before the morning came. Daisy took a discreet step backwards and kept her eyes on the mermaid's, then repeated her question.
"I am a Princess as well, little one." The mermaid spoke almost haughtily. "Nearly a queen, in fact. As such, I've come to extend the aid of our numbers to your cause."
"...What?"
A more intelligent reply was probably warranted, but at the moment Daisy was utterly befuddled. Not only had the mermaids come to the surface, which was unheard of, but now their princess was offering to help her?
"For what?" Daisy followed up her earlier blurted remark. "I mean, why?"
The Mermaid Princess donned a small smile, but her brow was slightly furrowed and her eyes were narrowed to offset the expression.
"Hm." She tutted gently. "For a princess, your manners are wanting. But you are much more tolerable than the lot of your race, I suppose."
The sight of those sharp incisors again quelled Daisy's smart mouth and kept the retort she had planted firmly on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed and stepped back a bit more, but then made the mistake of glancing out at the waters again. Those blank eyes all gazed unwaveringly, hauntingly at her as the mermaids' heads bobbed just above the surface.
"Why do you want to help me?" Daisy asked, careful not to let her voice quiver. Her fear seemed to excite or amuse the female across from her.
Said leader addressed the unspoken issue now by saying, "You shouldn't have fear. We will help you."
"Why?" Daisy asked, not at all convinced that she was off the menu. Not when those soulless eyes still remained fixed on her with the projection of her own demise-related fears mirrored within them.
"My mother believes you are destined to overcome the Dark King."
For the second time, Daisy's eyes widened in surprise. "I...Your mother? The queen?"
Why can't I communicate like a functioning human being tonight, Daisy frowned, then thought, Oh yeah. Because I'm talking to one of a thousand creatures that could freaking eat me in a matter of minutes...
Nervously Daisy flicked her eyes to the dormant mermaids once more. Had they even blinked in this whole time? She wasn't sure.
Their leader spoke as one would patiently regard a child, "Yes, my mother. The queen. Frightfully slow you are, my dear, but I suppose you are just...afraid. Which is puzzling, seeing as how you dealt with the beast and we wish you no harm."
"The beast?"
"The Dark King." The mermaid said, and what she didn't say but tacitly added was, 'keep up, why don't you?'
Daisy wrapped her arms around her as the wind picked up and asked, "How did you know I dealt with him?"
"These waters, the oceans and seas, belong to us. We can travel as fast as word does." The mermaid boasted, but her smirk faltered when she explained. "It was a pity to hear that he'd not actually been slain."
"If I'd had my way, he would have been." Came the bitter reply that surprised the mermaid and made Daisy forget her fear for a moment.
The mermaid seemed intrigued by her anger and said, "Apparently, my mother believes you. And while we will not entangle ourselves with him or any affairs of the above ever again, we will help you in your endeavor to end him."
"How?"
From her hip, the mermaid Princess took a pink, horned shell that was hooked on the fabric at her waist. She handed the thing reverently over to Daisy, who took it with just as much care so as not to disrespect the fickle female.
"Stand at any shore and call for us," The mermaid instructed. "But use discretion. We will only lend our numbers once. For any task. Just once."
"Just once." Daisy faintly echoed. "And for what task?"
"Any." The Mermaid Princess repeated, smirking again.
The sun was fast approaching the horizon and morning was at hand. These things went not unnoticed by all parties gathered at the shore. Daisy blinked in the increasing light and the mermaids fretted slightly, making ripples all around them. Their leader gazed up at the sun with an expression of ire, but not so much as when she laid eyes on one who joined them all at the shore. Her face contorted into such an incredible mix of fury, hatred, and disgust that Daisy felt her heart skip a beat and her stomach plummet down to her bare feet.
This is it! She lamented, they're going to eat me after all! I knew it!
With her teeth bared and eyes narrowed into slants, the 'dignified' Mermaid Princess hissed like a foul-tempered cat and curved her hands into claws by her sides. But...she wasn't hissing at Daisy.
A gasp made Sarasaland's ruler whip her head around and she saw one of her troops, pale as a sheet, standing stock-still a few yards behind her. More troops were coming from their tents and that's when Daisy remembered she'd told them they were leaving this morning.
This is not good, She thought forebodingly to herself.
"Filthy, repugnant, useless, disgusting-" And from there the Mermaid Princess spoke in a tongue that was foreign to Daisy's ears.
She had a clue that what the female was spewing had to do with the man behind them, though, because one other thing about the mermaid race stuck out in her mind: men. They hated them, so much so that their lineage was a stiff matriarch enforced with the murder of any males born among them. She wasn't clear why this was so, or why the mermaids hated men, but she didn't want to test the limits of their proclaimed alliance with her.
"Please," She spoke placatingly, "We're leaving. Don't attack us."
The Mermaid Princess halted in her speech but her mouth held that nasty scowl as she glowered at all the men, and now women, crowding the beach. Daisy shot her troops a look and raised her hand for them to hold their positions.
The mermaids in the water were hissing like their princess but she, too, did as Daisy had done and raised a hand to calm them. As if by choreography, they all shut their mouths slowly and sank beneath the water totally, but only a fool would believe they were gone.
The Mermaid Princess told Daisy, "How unfortunate that you still let them live among you as equals, but what does it profit me to hope for intelligence among your lot?"
She stepped backwards and said, "Remember my words, little princess. And when we meet again, don't bring...come alone."
Daisy nodded and was glad to see them all go skirting through the waters once more. She let out a deep breath and breathed normally for the first time since the mermaids' arrival before facing her troops. Their expressions ranged from shock and slight fear and wonder to forced neutrality that was so common for Chai's soldiers to embrace. She didn't know what to tell them, so she just said,
"Let's go home."
Whether it was the cold or the hunger or the thirst, the beast was stirred from uncomfortable slumber within the drafty cave and, with his heir beside him, he set a course for the town that lay below the peak of the mountain that he was beginning to despise. He didn't know what he'd do first once he was there, in town, nor did he care. The only thing that concerned him was sating every one of his physical needs as quickly as possible. He'd abstained from giving in to them before, and for as long as his superhuman body would allow him to, but now he had to find food, had to get something that would shield his body from the unforgiving winds better than the shabby cloak and garments he was wearing now. He was single-minded in his gait as he scaled the mountainside downwards and hardly noticed the boy that kept the pace with him. For his part, Junior was glad to be traveling with his father again. It'd been a while since he got to spend so much time with his senior, and he was enjoying himself immensely. Even though they hardly got up to much of anything besides sleeping and staring at each other's corneas for the majority of the past week, that is. Still, the red-haired child held a steady smile as he dug his hand into his father's pants pocket. He was walking so close to the older creature so as to remain under the cover of his father's cloak. Though it wasn't the best defense against the cold, it was better than none at all.
"Where we goin?" Junior thought to ask.
He hadn't before, not when his father was tugging him up onto his feet and ushering him out the cave without a word. In fact, the two hadn't spoken until now, though Bowser seemed to hold his tongue still. Junior then nudged his father's hip with his head and that made the fallen king glance down irritably at his young heir.
"What is it?" He groused.
The five-year-old spoke, unperturbed, saying, "Where we goin', Daddy?"
"Into this pitiful excuse of a city." Was the former royal's reply.
Junior perked, his jade eyes widening and alighting as he then asked, "Are we gonna' do something fun?"
The king found something perversely funny about that because he grinned slowly, wickedly, to himself and chuckled. He reached down as he turned with the mountain and ran a careless hand through his son's thick hair. Junior, thinking he'd pleased his sire, grinned as well and his steps were that much lighter. The two continued on in silence, though the older being's thoughts were now aroused with impending possibilities of how to go about the day. It was early yet, and it had been a while since he'd done anything to amuse himself. Being on the run and laying low left little room for entertainment.
And humans are such...amusing creatures, lowly as they are, The king reminded himself with a mental nod at his encounters with them in the past, particularly during his days of terrorizing the Mushroom World. Junior gazed up and saw his father smirking to himself and figured he must have been in a good mood. This cheered the boy even more and he opted to remove his hand from his father's pocket. He then wrapped it around the older redhead's middle and leaned his head against his father's side. Abruptly Bowser glanced down at the boy and gave him a strange, questioning look before turning his gaze forward. The city was in plain view now as the pair approached ground level. It only took them a few minutes to pass the threshold between the dirt road path and the quiet, wood-roofed buildings and shops. Several people were out, milling about.
Letting his nose guide him, the old king wandered in search of something to eat, particularly something hot and hearty. Along the way, he passed a fruit stand. Without thinking, he let his hand brush over a great many of them before plucking a ripe peach from its place nestled among like choices.
"Hey!" Someone called behind him, "HEY!"
The king didn't miss a beat as he continued walking and grinned around the succulent, fuzzy golden fruit. It tasted divine, coming from the dreary-looking town, so that was a surprise. Unbeknownst to the king, his son had witnessed the entire ordeal and wasn't without questions.
"Daddy, how come you did that?" He asked.
It wasn't as cold in the city, so Bowser shed his cloak and passed it down to his child, who wrapped it around his head and body so that he resembled a little grim reaper of sorts. Junior's giant eyes blinked up at his father as he walked and tried not to trip over the hem of the cloak that dwarfed him. Bowser gazed down at his boy and raised a red brow, having not heard the child.
"You took that," Junior pointed to the peach, "and it was not even much for you. It was for that man and you took it. Now he's mad at you."
The young heir's observation was an accurate one, though the fruit merchant had now halted his cries and was shaking his head in disgust and disdain. One piece of fruit wasn't anything to make too much of a fuss over, but that was hardly the extent of injustice the king planned to enact this day.
Bowser looked at his son and took another bite of the peach, considering how best to explain to his son his next words. He was careful as he ate, in a show of arrogance and undue pride in his perceived better standing in regards to the people around him. He maneuvered around more carts and tables of wares, taking nothing else this time. And this time his son did stumble, but his father was quick in scooping him up and holding him against his hip. At the same time, Bowser tossed the pit of the peach somewhere behind him.
"Let me tell you something, son." The king began, his eyes straight ahead. "Everything in this world belongs to me."
And somewhere, there was a sanitarium almost yearning with near-sentient fervor for another occupant.
"Really?" Junior chirped with heightening wonder.
Young as he was, he still knew his father was one to say things that sometimes weren't true. He was skeptical now and Bowser smirked.
"Yes, really." The king shook his son on his arm a little for emphasis. "Everything belongs to me because this world is my empire. Or it will be soon."
"Then...if everything is for you," Junior began with a cutely furrowed brow, "How come the man was yelling at you for taking the food?"
"He's stupid and doesn't know any better." Bowser dismissed. "All humans are stupid, pathetic, weak creatures and that's why we rule them. We're better than them."
Junior grew quiet for a moment and something seemed to pass through those gold-flecked eyes for a second.
"Daddy, how come we are better than them?" Came his soft inquiry.
Bowser turned and shifted the boy in his grip before replying simply, "We just are. Some are born to rule, like us, and the rest are born to serve."
"Serve who?"
"Us."
"Oh." Junior murmured.
He didn't get it, but he still trusted his father. He only had his father now in a very large and confusing world that kept changing all around him.
"Daddy?"
Bowser sighed and asked, "What is it now?"
There were only so many questions he could take before they started grating on his nerves. Junior didn't notice his father's mounting aggravation. He laid a hand on his senior's broad chest and studied his profile.
"What's an em...empa...emp eye?"
"Empire," His father corrected shortly. "An empire is like a kingdom. Only much, much bigger. You know what a kingdom is, don't you?"
Junior nodded and asked, "So you're king of these people like at home?"
"Of course," came Bowser's answer with the return of his broad grin.
Any other questions would have to wait as the king finally spotted an eatery of sorts. It was a small place with a shoddy coat of paint on the old bricks and a half-open wooden door. From it wafted out tantalizing scents that promised of delicious food and a full belly. Bowser ducked under the doorway and was convinced that the town was comprised of midgets.
"Welcome."
The dull greeting came from the right, where there was a set of double doors and, in front, a counter that stretched to the opposite wall. Ahead there were a few rectangular wooden tables and chairs. Bowser made a face at the compact room before facing he who had spoken. It was an older person that was more hair than man, what with his thick mane of black hair, his full beard, and healthy mustache. He peered at the redhead mistrustfully and wiped his hands on his white apron. There was enough splashes of red to let the former king know there'd be meat on the menu. That, if nothing else, seemed to satisfy him.
"What do you have to eat?" Bowser asked.
"What do you want?" The older man retorted in a gruff voice.
A moment was taken for thought, then Bowser responded with, "Steak."
The older man nodded appreciatively and said, "I've got it, but it'll cost ya' a pretty penny."
Bowser just shrugged and said, "That doesn't concern me. How soon will it be ready?"
"Come back in half an hour," Was the old man's vague answer before he headed to the back.
Rather than wait, Bowser merely nodded to the retreating man and left the place. He set his son down on his own two feet and took his small hand in his own. He couldn't stand the clothes he wore, not only because they didn't do his social stature any favors, but also because they were no match for the freezing nights in the mountains. So he singled someone out in the crowd and asked about a tailor. He was, in turn, directed to a decent, well-kept wooden establishment a little further in town with quaint little shutters and a fancy nameplate on the door that read, 'E. Ollivander'. Bowser snorted at that and stepped inside. It had little to offer in his high tastes, but it was fairly spacious on the inside. Every inch of the floor was decked out in round tables that held folded fabrics and garments in tiered stacks, and along the walls there were racks displaying even more woven, threaded items. Trousers, dresses, shirts, blouses, blankets; there was a vast array of it all, glowing under the warm light of several lanterns fixed on the ceiling and walls. There were a few others in the shop, being waited on by another old man with half-moon spectacles, a rail-thin frame, and long, tangled white hair. He wore a fine suit and vest combination and noticed at once the redhead's entrance.
Whoa-ho, what do we have here, the old man thought. An outsider by the looks of that fiery hair, and not too rich either with those beggar's rags on him...should be able to squeeze about a dime over average from him if I play my card's right. And with a generic smile the tailor made his way to the front of the store.
He stuck out his hand and said in greeting, "Pleased to see a new face, I'm Ollivander."
"The door already told me that," Bowser remarked, stepping beyond the man and his proffered hand.
He let his jade eyes rove over the goods showcased and couldn't find a single thing that interested him. Meanwhile, Ollivander stood behind him and tucked his snubbed hand back down into the pocket of his vest. Junior may as well have been invisible for all the attention he received as he trailed in his father's shadow.
"Tell me you've got something better in the back," Bowser frowned, " 'Cause I wouldn't wipe my ass with anything out here."
With a touch less enthusiasm, Ollivander strode up to where Bowser stood and thought, a right charmer, this one is.
He told the redhead, "Only the finer pieces are in the back."
"I'll be the judge of that," Bowser scoffed, then said, "Show me the most expensive sheets you've got."
"Sheets, as in bedding?" Ollivander asked with his wrinkled brow disturbed.
"Yes," The king replied, then rolled his eyes and crouched down to speak with his son.
He put his hands on Junior's shoulders and smirked a bit, murmuring, "What did I tell you about the humans, Junior? Slow and dimwitted."
That went over the boy's head completely, but Junior smiled broadly because it felt like his father was sharing some secret or private joke with him. Fortunately, the tailor was too busy retrieving his key from the checkout counter to have heard that remark. He came walking over to where a door was near the left of the store with Bowser on his heels. When Ollivander opened it, he led the two into what looked like a giant walk-in closet. There were definitely higher-grade garments and articles of clothing and bedding, but it was nothing the king hadn't seen better of. Ollivander went over to a shelf on the back wall and took a stack of brown paper bundles into his arms. He untied the twine binding them and revealed very thick, impossibly sleek and shiny sheets and blankets inside. They ranged from gold to crimson to black in color, and, once he transferred them to Bowser for inspection, they were found to be of a quality most high.
"Interesting." Bowser hummed, running his finger over the material.
He could tell they'd do well for him. They were beautiful, but also thick and lush, perfect for blocking out the intense winter chill. He tied them back up in the paper and handed the stacks to his son, who struggled to get a good grip on the bundles.
"Would you be interested in some clothing?" The tailor then asked. "I have a three-piece ensemble that I'm sure would fit you like a glove."
Bowser shrugged and said, "Let me see it."
The man was very cooperative, seeing as how he was under the committed impression that he was going to make a very good amount of money today. He figured he'd pulled about a couple hundred pieces of gold for each one of the sheets, not to mention he'd gain another two hundred from the clothing he was fetching from the other end of the closet. He was in a good mood indeed, the redhead's rudeness notwithstanding.
"Here it is," Ollivander smiled, pulling the garments from the rack on the wall. "This oughta' have you nice and warm this season."
He handed the clothes to Bowser to inspect and, much to his surprise, the king began to disrobe. He pulled his white shirt over his head and kicked off his shoes and his pants were the last thing to go before he stood completely bare to the astonished bafflement of the old tailor. A choked cough was emitted before Ollivander turned away, not knowing what to say. He certainly could say the clothes were going to a deserving host.
To his credit, Junior didn't even flinch at the sight of his father; it wouldn't be the first time he'd seen that much of his sire and it hardly bothered him. And Bowser, perhaps because of his arrogance or narcissism, figured it was to the old tailor's advantage to be blessed with the sight of his impressive form. He dressed quickly and could find no fault with the feel or fit of the garments. The pants were incredibly soft and thick, and the shirt was also a heavy sort of material that was long-sleeved and stylishly cut. The last piece was a radiant black cloak with silver embroidering, also heavy and could almost double as a blanket. Bowser was satisfied.
"I'll take it." He announced, collecting the bundles of sheets from Junior and tucking them under his arm. He opted to leave the old pants and shirt set on the floor, and Ollivander didn't say anything about it. Earlier discomfort aside, his mind was on money again.
"Excellent," He said, "But wouldn't you get something for your little one here?"
Bowser frowned and then looked at Junior, still bundled in the old cheap cloak, and nodded. Ollivander was thrilled and, after taking a few brief estimated measurements, went off to get something in the boy's size. Bowser was surprisingly picky about what his heir wore, so Ollivander had to go back and forth from the various areas of the store back to the closet where the pair of customers waited. It took him a while, but he managed to come back with something that was sure to rake in another hundred or so gold coins: an outfit much the same as Bowser's, but with a short-sleeved shirt and a jacket instead of a cloak.
It'll be worth it when I get the money, the tailor told himself to keep from being vexed by the difficult redhead. He had the outfit wrapped for them so as not to be subjected to another impromptu, slightly more inappropriate, show.
"That'll be all then?" Ollivander asked once Bowser had the sheets and Junior carried his own bundled garments.
Bowser said, "Yes, that's all."
And he walked out of the closet with Junior at his side. But unlike Ollivander, who headed to the checkout counter, Bowser kept walking towards the door.
"Hey!" The old man cried, "Where are you-"
And credit had to be given to the old man, for he was much more adept at getting around fairly quickly, contrary to what his age and appearance would have others believe. In a few strides, he was in front of Bowser.
"You have to pay for those first," Ollivander said with a chuckle.
With a smirk Bowser asked, "Do I?"
When it became apparent that this wasn't some clumsy misunderstanding but rather a premeditated attempt at thievery, Ollivander's good-natured smile faded from his pale, wrinkled mouth. His eyes grew hard as one thought swelled in his mind.
I've been had, He frowned, And here I was, simpering like a fool and grinning like an idiot and...and providing excellent customer service all in the hopes of a lovely sum at the end of this taxing encounter, when all the while-
Ollivander grew red in the face as the situation dawned on him. He crossed his arms and blocked the door with his body.
"I'm afraid the jig is up, sir." He nearly spat were it not for his tone already dripping with disdain. "I'll have to ask you hand over the packages if you do not intend to pay for them."
"Oh, I'll be paying." Bowser grinned.
And here Ollivander had hopes that this was a joke of some sort and that he'd be getting the money after all. But that hope died with the redhead's next words.
"Paying your face a visit with my fists if you don't get out of my way."
Ollivander was not amused and remained mostly defiant, save for the fact that the fear was creeping into his eyes and demeanor; his gaze kept wavering like he was just dying to glance to the side apprehensively and his posture was rigid and tense. Bowser closed his free hand into a fist experimentally and, predictably, the man's eyes darted there and now he grew overtly panicked. Perhaps it began to dawn on him that the muscular beast he'd seen in the closet was the same creature that stood before him, and that he, as a somewhat capable but still indubitably old man, was no match for the redhead. The knowledge made Ollivander change his tune, and Bowser was sorry for it.
But maybe that was me hoping for too much, the king thought. After all, the only instance where one of these miserable humans proved that they weren't as weak and useless as they looked was with that little...and here Bowser had to take in a sharp inhalation with a private smirk, for he loved to think on her, his queen. The girl had truly surprised him, what with her having so much fury and tenacity within that slim, girlish frame.
He was pulled out of his more pleasant reverie when he heard the tailor babbling something and frowned.
"I'll only ask you once more because I'm in a good mood," He interjected. "Move. Aside."
But Ollivander remained at the door and protested, "I can't just let you walk out of here with my most expensive goods! They're worth a fortune!"
Bowser's countenance grew dark right before he reached out the hand that was previously fisted and wrapped his digits around the papery skin at the old tailor's throat. Lifting him off the ground was as easy as lifting a sack of feathers for the fallen king, and when he had the tailor at eyes level he posed a question, spoken almost conversationally.
"You say these are expensive, but tell me; are they worth more than your life?"
Ollivander opened and shut his mouth like a dehydrated fish and the look was only exaggerated with the way he was bulging his eyes. Bowser tilted his head and loosened his grip a bit to hear what the old man was trying to say.
A cough and then, "...Haggle...bargain a...surely...compr-...-mise..."
Bowser rolled his eyes and said, "Consider your life enough of a compromise on my end." Then the king faced his son and said, "Let's go, Junior. The food should be done by now."
Off to the side like a discarded doll the king tossed the old tailor, and by the faint 'snap' that was heard as his old body made impact with the floor, it wasn't an easy fall. Ollivander grimaced against the pain and watched the two redheads leave his shop and, strongly, he hoped they'd never return. Pretty soon, most of the other residents of the town would be wishing the same, starting with the butcher and chef whose eatery the pair returned to only a few minutes later.
As soon as the hairy man saw Bowser and his son return, he figured he'd made the right choice. He knew that there wasn't an abundance of redheads in the town, and so he deduced the two to be travelers or tourists or foreigners. In his own experience, those types paid pretty well, which was why he'd taken the time to prepare them both not only his choice cuts of steak, but also added a side of vegetables and fresh baked bread from the pastry chef down the street.
The man was now standing near one of the rectangular wooden tables where it was set with a white cloth, silverware, and a glass of wine and a smaller cup of water, along with their plates of food. Bowser paused in the doorway and placed his derision for mankind on hold for a moment.
Finally, some decent service around this place, he thought with a mix of amusement and relief; amusement that was mostly based on his anticipation of what was to come. Bowser led his son over to the table and gave himself a good ten to fifteen minutes before the tailor either came after him-
which would be foolish, he mentally remarked-
or alerted the local authorities-
which would also be foolish, he smirked.
Onto the table, off to the side Bowser set the packages and watched his heir sit across from him with his small body poised on his knees. He was much too short, still, to reach the top of the table. But once he was comfortable, Junior picked up a fork and began to eat like his father.
But not before turning to the hairy chef and calling out, "Thank you!"
"Don't thank the help, Junior. He's just doing his job." Bowser told his son.
Junior frowned because he recalled a very lovely teenage girl telling him that it was best to always be nice and to say thank you when someone did something nice for him. But he hadn't seen her in a very long time now and he thought it best to just listen to his father, so Junior said nothing on this matter and just ate.
The food was good.
Even by his finnicky standards, Bowser found the meal to be nothing short of exquisite. The meat was tender, fresh, and flavorful. The vegetables were coated in a light, buttery sauce and were crisp as well. And the bread was warm and flaky and delicious. The wine left little to be desired, though it wasn't really what the king was used to. All in all, he couldn't say the meal was mediocre; in fact, it only ran a close second to another meal he was used to having, but he quickly redirected his thoughts because, though he loved to think on her, now was not the time.
From where he was sitting, Bowser could see that the authorities had come early; the chef was at the door, speaking with one of a few brawny-looking men. Rather than run, Bowser pushed his empty plate and glass aside and gathered the packages in his arms.
Junior began to whine. "But I wanna' carry mine-"
"Hush!" Bowser whispered sharply, then said in an easier tone, "I have a job for you."
The boy perked and asked, "What is it?"
"Turn around." His father instructed, then asked, "Do you see that man over there?"
"The one with the big arms?" Junior asked.
Bowser nodded and watched the chef, who was casting wary glances in their directions. The king knew he couldn't just leave without getting into a scrape with the authorities, which was all fun and good, but he...wasn't himself, for lack of a better way of putting it. He could only rely on his own strength so much before it grew to be tedious. This would be more entertaining.
"I want you to set him on fire." the Dark King spoke evenly.
"Set him on fire?" Junior echoed softly, aghast. "But that is um, so very bad!"
"Quiet!" Bowser hissed, "Don't question me."
Still Junior asked, "But...why you want me to-"
"Just do as I say," Bowser snapped at his son. "Send a flame from the tip of your fingers, no not
like that, like...good, very good, now shoot it up here, right for his...perfect. Go."
Junior glanced at his father with trepidation, but turned forward and maintained his balance as
he held one hand out in front of him, cocked like what he didn't realize was a gun. He summoned fire to his lone index finger and spewed it towards the intended target's head, but the flame was weak. For Junior was reluctant, and unsure, and it showed in how unsteady and small the flame was. His father leveled him with a disapproving glare and he hung his head low.
But just a little spark was needed to get a fire going, and this one caught the end of the intended man's coat. It was one of the burly men that were talking to the chef, and for the longest he wasn't even aware that he was on fire until the flame had grown to epic proportions and nearly consumed his outer jacket. One of his companions cried out in alarm and alerted him, after which the man himself gave a startled call before ripping his jacket from himself and, in his haste, bumping into the other man, which led to his hand being burned, which caused him to hurriedly step backwards and away from his flaming companion. But this man stumbled as he was walking backwards, which knocked someone else off-balance as well. Meanwhile, the first man who was the initial victim had tossed his jacket to the ground and was stomping on it repeatedly, all but ignoring the fire that was slowly eating away at the table of jewelry. Some people around began to take notice and the fires were put out. But in all the commotion, nobody saw the cloaked figure and his smaller counterpart slip past them all.
Having made his undetected escape, Bowser smirked at the tiny fraction of amusement he so craved. He wanted to do more much than that, but having to rely on his son's power greatly limited his opportunities to wreak havoc. It also made him acutely aware of why he was in town to begin with; he was confined to the mountains until Nikolai found the clone and he could get his own powers back. He reminded himself that he still needed to get some food to take back to the cave.
With that, Bowser guided his son over to where a cart of flowers rested innocuously, currently unattended. He decided it would do well in carrying the food and clothing back up the steep mountainside, so he wheeled it away from the storefront and dumped all the flowers unceremoniously to the ground.
"Burn them." He told his son.
Junior looked at the shattered clay flowerpots and the scattered but beautiful plants and felt himself hesitate. He didn't want to do this, this felt like...it felt like...
Like when Lemmy's big brother sometimes messes with us 'cause he thinks it's funny, Junior mentally supplied. He knew there was a word for the behavior, he just couldn't recall what it was.
"Junior." Bowser barked, giving his son a hard and expectant look.
When the boy just gave him a troubled, uncertain look in return, Bowser narrowed his eyes and jerked him along. From various other carts and shop windows Bowser plucked fruits and vegetables and bread and jewelry and whatever else was within reach and put it all in the stolen cart. Someone did challenge him, along the way, but he'd made good on an earlier threat and knocked them clean out with a solid punch to the jaw, much to the other citizens' horror and alarm. For no apparent reason other than to be as nasty and cruel as possible, whatever Bowser didn't take he destroyed; he turned over carts, broke vases and pottery, and tipped over a stack of fancy dishes for sale. By the time he left the city and headed for the mountains, just about everyone had seen or heard about the red-haired menace.
They haven't even seen me at my worst, Bowser noted with a snort. If only I had my power, I would tear this city apart piece by piece and raze it to the ground because...
Well, now he didn't really have a good reason for his violent, miscreant tendencies, other than the fact that he was restless, incredibly so. He'd had a mind to only come into town and take what he needed, but the more he messed with the people, the more he wanted to. But he would soon learn that not everyone took things lying down.
A/N: Thanks for reading and sticking with me. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and, for once, I can say there will be more to come VERY soon, perhaps today but definitely by tomorrow [I know because I'm almost done writing it ;)] so stick around!
And please don't underestimate the power of your reviews! The more you review, the more inspired I am to write! It's a proven scientific fact! lol, but seriously, I love love LOVE reading you guys' reviews, so don't hesitate to tell me what you think of the story/plot/characters so far, and I'd love to hear your predictions, too, as always! 3
I will see you all next chapter. Until then...
~DymondGold~