Disclaimer: You know the deal. I own nothing. Do not sue.
Rating: G for now, but PG in later chapters if you understand Greek.
"MY LIFE IS OVER!!!!"
Kuzco's hysterical screams reverberated through the throne room, the sound waves ricocheting off the wall and going to every corner of the palace. Pacha, who was walking with Chicha and Ku in the garden below, froze as he heard the sound, then barely managed to run a catch the flailing form of a falling man from the upper-story window.
"Sir! Are you all right?" He gasped, as Chicha quickly dampened the end of her scarf with water from the baby's bottle and wiped the man's red, sweaty face with it.
The portly gentleman, dressed in the clothing of the palace workers, gave Pacha a weak grin. "Actually, I'm glad," he said. "He took it a lot better than I expected....ungh." Then he passed out.
Pacha left the man with his wife, picked up the baby, and headed for the palace. Upon entering the throne room, he looked around and saw his friend, curled on the floor in a fetal position. "Um, Emperor?" he asked tentatively. "Is something wrong?"
"MY LIFE IS OVER!!!"
Pacha stuck his fingers in his ears, trying to regain his hearing. "Um, I got that part, Emperor. What's the matter?"
Kuzco sat up, his eyes watering. "They're gonna make me get married! Next Saturday!"
Pacha was confused. "I didn't know you were engaged."
"I'm NOT! Jeez, Tiny, don't you get it?" In between sobs and alternate miniature breakdowns, Kuzco related the whole story to Pacha. "And so, here I am," he finished with a dramatic sniff.
Pacha, who had been listening sympathetically, patted him on the back. "Can't you get out of it somehow?"
"Not if I want to hold on to my position as emperor. The freaks they call my father's advisors want me married and producing brats as soon as possible. I didn't make a choice as to a bride- not that I COULD have, with the hideous selection they brought to the palace- so they did it for me."
"THAT'S how you went about finding a wife?" Pacha was clearly shocked. "Didn't you even get to know them first?"
"Why would I do that? They line up the girls, I see which one goes best with a tie and tails, I pick, I marry, I reproduce, everyone's happy. That's how it's been for AGES."
"What about love? Because, in the case of me and Chicha..." Kuzco rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, sulking. "Look. Are you here to make me vomit with your little small-town Cinderella story, or are you here to help me out? 'Cause, if you're here to reminisce, you can follow Kuta down there." He nodded at the open window.
"Kuzcoooo," Pacha said warningly.
"Okay. Okay, ookkkaay," Kuzco said, his face taking on a slightly more pensive expression. "I'm sorry. But IT'S NOT FAIR!!"
Pacha sighed. He wished he could help, but the decree, especially one created so many years ago, had to stand. "I don't know, Emperor. Unless you change the degree..."
"I won't be given full imperial powers till I'm married and have produced a heir."
"...you're pretty much stuck."
Both men were completely silent for a couple of minutes. Kuzco was the first to break the silence.
"So I'm getting married."
"You're getting married."
"Be my best man?"
"You bet."
By the next day, Kuzco had adjusted to the idea of having to get married, but he certainly wasn't going to be QUIET about it.
"Why can't I just marry you???" Kuzco was whining profusely as Anya measured him for his wedding robes, his most elaborate ones yet.
"ExCUSE me?" Anya asked.
"I mean, why not? We get along, I've known you forever, my father liked you...plus, you know my clothing style, and when I get married, my wife will be taking care of that, not you."
Anya smirked. "Thanks, but no thanks, emperor."
"'Thanks, but no thanks?'" Kuzco quoted incredulously. "Do you know how many women would DIE to get a proposal from me?"
"Look, we wouldn't work together, Kuzco. First of all, I'm twenty-seven- you're eighteen. Not happening."
"I'm almost nineteen, and besides, age is just a number. Plus, I prefer you to some stranger."
Anya ignored him and continued counting off on her fingers. "Secondly, we would NOT get along. Thirdly, the you-know-what would hit the fan in court, since I'm of no political advantage to you. Fourthly, I don't WANT to marry you- I've still got a choice, you know. Fifthly-"
"All right, all right, I GET it!" said Kuzco irritably. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't promised Mother I would spare you if you ever mouthed off to me." Grumpy now, he relaxed his shoulders, only to have Anya give him a sharp crack across the shoulders with her tape measure. "Hold still!" she snapped. "This robe has to be PERFECT."
Kuzco obeyed, still seething. "She's probably a witch," he muttered.
"I beg your pardon?"
"A witch. Maybe she cast a spell over my court in order to get me married. Or maybe she plans to take over my kingdom."
Anya sighed.
"WHAT? It could be true! Remember Cleopatra? If it happened to Caesar, it could happen to me!"
"You sound completely irrational. And childish."
"Um hmm. Maybe we'll share a cell when my beloved "wife" arrives. If she doesn't kill us all first, that is."
Anya threw her hands up in the air in defeat. "PLEASE hold still now. I've got to pin this together in the back." She draped fabric over his body and began pinning. "
"Still sure you don't want to marry me?" he gave her a beseeching look.
"Positive."
Their little conversation was interrupted when a tall, broad chested guy waltzed in with a tray and a squirrel on his shoulder, which was carrying a covered goblet.
"Your lunch, Emperor Kuzco. Hey there," he said to Anya, who nodded and leaned over casually to whisper in Kuzco's ear. "Didn't he, like, try to kill you?"
"That was mostly Yzma," Kuzco said through his teeth. "No offense to him, but it would have never occurred to Kronk that he could actually take someone out. Plus, he makes a mean pot roast." Anya nodded and straightened up as Kronk approached the sewing table.
"Thanks, Kronk, dude. Put it over there." Kuzco indicated a nearby table and waved them out. Kronk headed for the door and paused. "Oh, and congratulations on the uh,...nuptials and all."
At the word 'nuptials,' Kuzco moaned loudly and sunk to the floor in a pool of white linen, then yelped and leaped up as Anya's pins dug into his behind.
"Is he okay?" Kronk asked. Kuzco was now hopping up and down, pulling the pins out and screaming obscenities in Portuguese.
Anya looked at him sideways. "Yeah," she said dryly. "He's just excited about the big day. He'll be fine, trust me."
Like? Dislike? Please, Review. flames are welcome; they never cease to amuse me.
Rating: G for now, but PG in later chapters if you understand Greek.
"MY LIFE IS OVER!!!!"
Kuzco's hysterical screams reverberated through the throne room, the sound waves ricocheting off the wall and going to every corner of the palace. Pacha, who was walking with Chicha and Ku in the garden below, froze as he heard the sound, then barely managed to run a catch the flailing form of a falling man from the upper-story window.
"Sir! Are you all right?" He gasped, as Chicha quickly dampened the end of her scarf with water from the baby's bottle and wiped the man's red, sweaty face with it.
The portly gentleman, dressed in the clothing of the palace workers, gave Pacha a weak grin. "Actually, I'm glad," he said. "He took it a lot better than I expected....ungh." Then he passed out.
Pacha left the man with his wife, picked up the baby, and headed for the palace. Upon entering the throne room, he looked around and saw his friend, curled on the floor in a fetal position. "Um, Emperor?" he asked tentatively. "Is something wrong?"
"MY LIFE IS OVER!!!"
Pacha stuck his fingers in his ears, trying to regain his hearing. "Um, I got that part, Emperor. What's the matter?"
Kuzco sat up, his eyes watering. "They're gonna make me get married! Next Saturday!"
Pacha was confused. "I didn't know you were engaged."
"I'm NOT! Jeez, Tiny, don't you get it?" In between sobs and alternate miniature breakdowns, Kuzco related the whole story to Pacha. "And so, here I am," he finished with a dramatic sniff.
Pacha, who had been listening sympathetically, patted him on the back. "Can't you get out of it somehow?"
"Not if I want to hold on to my position as emperor. The freaks they call my father's advisors want me married and producing brats as soon as possible. I didn't make a choice as to a bride- not that I COULD have, with the hideous selection they brought to the palace- so they did it for me."
"THAT'S how you went about finding a wife?" Pacha was clearly shocked. "Didn't you even get to know them first?"
"Why would I do that? They line up the girls, I see which one goes best with a tie and tails, I pick, I marry, I reproduce, everyone's happy. That's how it's been for AGES."
"What about love? Because, in the case of me and Chicha..." Kuzco rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, sulking. "Look. Are you here to make me vomit with your little small-town Cinderella story, or are you here to help me out? 'Cause, if you're here to reminisce, you can follow Kuta down there." He nodded at the open window.
"Kuzcoooo," Pacha said warningly.
"Okay. Okay, ookkkaay," Kuzco said, his face taking on a slightly more pensive expression. "I'm sorry. But IT'S NOT FAIR!!"
Pacha sighed. He wished he could help, but the decree, especially one created so many years ago, had to stand. "I don't know, Emperor. Unless you change the degree..."
"I won't be given full imperial powers till I'm married and have produced a heir."
"...you're pretty much stuck."
Both men were completely silent for a couple of minutes. Kuzco was the first to break the silence.
"So I'm getting married."
"You're getting married."
"Be my best man?"
"You bet."
By the next day, Kuzco had adjusted to the idea of having to get married, but he certainly wasn't going to be QUIET about it.
"Why can't I just marry you???" Kuzco was whining profusely as Anya measured him for his wedding robes, his most elaborate ones yet.
"ExCUSE me?" Anya asked.
"I mean, why not? We get along, I've known you forever, my father liked you...plus, you know my clothing style, and when I get married, my wife will be taking care of that, not you."
Anya smirked. "Thanks, but no thanks, emperor."
"'Thanks, but no thanks?'" Kuzco quoted incredulously. "Do you know how many women would DIE to get a proposal from me?"
"Look, we wouldn't work together, Kuzco. First of all, I'm twenty-seven- you're eighteen. Not happening."
"I'm almost nineteen, and besides, age is just a number. Plus, I prefer you to some stranger."
Anya ignored him and continued counting off on her fingers. "Secondly, we would NOT get along. Thirdly, the you-know-what would hit the fan in court, since I'm of no political advantage to you. Fourthly, I don't WANT to marry you- I've still got a choice, you know. Fifthly-"
"All right, all right, I GET it!" said Kuzco irritably. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't promised Mother I would spare you if you ever mouthed off to me." Grumpy now, he relaxed his shoulders, only to have Anya give him a sharp crack across the shoulders with her tape measure. "Hold still!" she snapped. "This robe has to be PERFECT."
Kuzco obeyed, still seething. "She's probably a witch," he muttered.
"I beg your pardon?"
"A witch. Maybe she cast a spell over my court in order to get me married. Or maybe she plans to take over my kingdom."
Anya sighed.
"WHAT? It could be true! Remember Cleopatra? If it happened to Caesar, it could happen to me!"
"You sound completely irrational. And childish."
"Um hmm. Maybe we'll share a cell when my beloved "wife" arrives. If she doesn't kill us all first, that is."
Anya threw her hands up in the air in defeat. "PLEASE hold still now. I've got to pin this together in the back." She draped fabric over his body and began pinning. "
"Still sure you don't want to marry me?" he gave her a beseeching look.
"Positive."
Their little conversation was interrupted when a tall, broad chested guy waltzed in with a tray and a squirrel on his shoulder, which was carrying a covered goblet.
"Your lunch, Emperor Kuzco. Hey there," he said to Anya, who nodded and leaned over casually to whisper in Kuzco's ear. "Didn't he, like, try to kill you?"
"That was mostly Yzma," Kuzco said through his teeth. "No offense to him, but it would have never occurred to Kronk that he could actually take someone out. Plus, he makes a mean pot roast." Anya nodded and straightened up as Kronk approached the sewing table.
"Thanks, Kronk, dude. Put it over there." Kuzco indicated a nearby table and waved them out. Kronk headed for the door and paused. "Oh, and congratulations on the uh,...nuptials and all."
At the word 'nuptials,' Kuzco moaned loudly and sunk to the floor in a pool of white linen, then yelped and leaped up as Anya's pins dug into his behind.
"Is he okay?" Kronk asked. Kuzco was now hopping up and down, pulling the pins out and screaming obscenities in Portuguese.
Anya looked at him sideways. "Yeah," she said dryly. "He's just excited about the big day. He'll be fine, trust me."
Like? Dislike? Please, Review. flames are welcome; they never cease to amuse me.