Disclaimer: I do not own..know what? Screw this. If you don't get it by
now, you never will.
Rating: PG for mild language and thematic elements.
Kuzco peeked through the deep-purple tapestry cover of his formal receiving room's window, at a slow, large camel caravan approaching the palace. A huge, heavily embroidered sac-like enclosure, decorated with elegant gauze curtains of every imaginable color sat on top of a snow-white camel, flanked by dozens of guards on every side. Their gleaming armor flashed in the sun, and the steady drumming of their sandals on the hard-packed dirt echoed through the hills.
Presents had been arriving for many days, now, from the bride's family. After his advisors had sent the dowry, runners had been sent on ahead to announce their princesses' impending arrival. There were Grecian spices, strange, exotic dried-out foods, and "stunning" works of art that he'd promptly chucked into Yzma's old lab.
"I guess that's her," Pacha said, from behind him.
"Yeah," replied Kuzco, glumly, not in the least bit startled by his friend's sudden appearance. He turned around, sitting comfortably in the window seat.
"Look....Pacha, buddy. Tell anyone about this conversation, and you're Yzma's new cat food, but I'm a little..nervous about this whole marriage thing, if you know what I mean."
Pacha gave him a good-natured smile, trying to cheer him up. "I'm married, and I didn't turn out so bad," he said. "Don't worry about the ceremony. Just drink a lot, repeat what the priests tell you to, look happy, and it'll be over in a jiffy."
"Humph. You're not an axe murderer or anything, if ya chose to look at it THAT way," Kuzco said sarcastically. "It not the CEREMONY I'm worried about. It's what comes after, if you know what I mean....."
Pacha suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Oh. THAT. Um...well, you DO know how it works, right?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I guess so."
"Well...oh, man, I wish your father were alive right now," he muttered under his breath. "Well. Just take it slow. Most...everything comes naturally, you know? Don't rush her."
Kuzco nodded. "Anything else?"
"Well," Pacha looked around and dropped his voice to a whisper, his face burning. "It'll probably be her...first time, you know? Don't scare her- it'll be hard to control yourself, especially when you're so young, but it's possible. You can hurt her without knowing it." He lowered his voice a little more. "There might even be a little....this is disgusting, prepare yourself.....blood at first, but it's normal..."
Kuzco stared at Pacha, his face growing more horrified with every sentence. "Man, WHAT are you TALKing about!?" he said.
Pacha reeled back. "What were YOU talking about? Because I thought you were talking about..." He made a slight gesture with his hips, one that Kuzco picked up on immediately.
"Eeewww! No! Me discuss THAT? With YOU?!! I do KNOW how it works, okay- I was taken to a brothel for my sixteenth birthday. All princes are. I just wanted some tips on getting her to like me! Oh, SICK!!!"
Pacha rolled his eyes, face still flaming, as Kuzco dry-heaved over the side of his out the window. "I was ONLY trying to help."
"Then keep your mind out of the gutter!"
"My mind wasn't in the gutter!"
"You're right. I think the 'privy' would be a more appropriate place."
A huge argument certainly would have erupted had Kuta not interfered, barging into Kuzco's receiving room.
"Your highness!"
Kuzco nearly tumbled off of the windowsill. "WHAT!?" he said, the adrenaline rush from nearly falling making blood drum in his ears.
"The princess is ready to dismount."
"So what do I have to do with that?"
Kuta nervously shifted his feet. "Your highness, tradition demands that you be there to welcome your bride."
Kuzco opened his mouth, a sarcastic comment just dying to come out, but he caught Pacha's eye, threw his new mantle over his linen-robed shoulders, and headed out without comment. Pacha, who was acting as his valet for the week, went to see to his wardrobe for dinner.
Kuzco approached the elegant cocoon, noting the tense look on his advisors' faces when he walked up to it and reached for the curtain. They think I'm going to throw a tantrum or say something nasty, he thought, smirking. Losers. Might as well spare the poor boys some heart trouble, he thought, pulling back the curtain and extending his hand, a charming smile plastered on his face.
"Welcome, princess," he said to the warm, scented darkness inside. He could hear each and every one of his advisors let out gusty breaths of relief. He felt a small, warm hand studded with rings fall in his, and a young woman emerged onto the velvet steps. He felt a small, warm hand studded with rings fall in his, and a girl emerged onto the velvet steps.
She was tall, taller than him, in fact, and rather curvy, yet slender, with pale, pale ivory skin, dark hair gathered up into a knot, save for a thick strand of hair that fell across her forehead, and large, green-flecked amber eyes. Her eyebrows were thick and dramatic, startlingly dark against her skin, and she had full, red lips now curved into a slightly mocking smirk. She couldn't have been older than seventeen, eighteen being a charitable guess.
"Took you long enough to get here," she snapped in a high, slightly nasal tone, taking his hand and dismounting. In her other hand was a thin, gold goblet studded heavily with crystals. She tossed her head back, took a sip from it and promptly spit it out, narrowly missing Kuzco's sandal.
"Yick!" she said. "It's positively tepid. Honey, refresh this," she said, handing the cup to a surprised guard. "Vintage 200 B.C. And make it quick!"
When he didn't move, she gave him an exasperated look. "Hasn't your train of thought left the station yet? Hurry up! C'mon!" she snapped her fingers and prodded the guard on with one tip of a pointed shoe.
Satisfied that the guard was on his way, she turned to her husband-to-be. "I hope you're not as slow as your help," she said to Kuzco.
Kuzco took offense. "Who are you calling slow? Me?"
"Who am I calling 'slow?' good question, I don't know yet. What's your name?"
Kuzco's mouth dropped open. She waited for a minute, then looked at him and smiled. "Take your time honey." She rearranged the folds of her delicate white gown and headed for the intricately carved double doors, yelling through the one that was open. "Hey, robot-suit! Where's my drink!"
She turned around to Kuzco, who was still shell-shocked. "So, are you going to show me around, or wha..." She suddenly looked up at the sun, squinting irritably as she shielded her eyes with one jeweled hand.
"Good lord!!!" she cried. "Am I outside!!??"
Should I keep going? Please review!
Rating: PG for mild language and thematic elements.
Kuzco peeked through the deep-purple tapestry cover of his formal receiving room's window, at a slow, large camel caravan approaching the palace. A huge, heavily embroidered sac-like enclosure, decorated with elegant gauze curtains of every imaginable color sat on top of a snow-white camel, flanked by dozens of guards on every side. Their gleaming armor flashed in the sun, and the steady drumming of their sandals on the hard-packed dirt echoed through the hills.
Presents had been arriving for many days, now, from the bride's family. After his advisors had sent the dowry, runners had been sent on ahead to announce their princesses' impending arrival. There were Grecian spices, strange, exotic dried-out foods, and "stunning" works of art that he'd promptly chucked into Yzma's old lab.
"I guess that's her," Pacha said, from behind him.
"Yeah," replied Kuzco, glumly, not in the least bit startled by his friend's sudden appearance. He turned around, sitting comfortably in the window seat.
"Look....Pacha, buddy. Tell anyone about this conversation, and you're Yzma's new cat food, but I'm a little..nervous about this whole marriage thing, if you know what I mean."
Pacha gave him a good-natured smile, trying to cheer him up. "I'm married, and I didn't turn out so bad," he said. "Don't worry about the ceremony. Just drink a lot, repeat what the priests tell you to, look happy, and it'll be over in a jiffy."
"Humph. You're not an axe murderer or anything, if ya chose to look at it THAT way," Kuzco said sarcastically. "It not the CEREMONY I'm worried about. It's what comes after, if you know what I mean....."
Pacha suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Oh. THAT. Um...well, you DO know how it works, right?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I guess so."
"Well...oh, man, I wish your father were alive right now," he muttered under his breath. "Well. Just take it slow. Most...everything comes naturally, you know? Don't rush her."
Kuzco nodded. "Anything else?"
"Well," Pacha looked around and dropped his voice to a whisper, his face burning. "It'll probably be her...first time, you know? Don't scare her- it'll be hard to control yourself, especially when you're so young, but it's possible. You can hurt her without knowing it." He lowered his voice a little more. "There might even be a little....this is disgusting, prepare yourself.....blood at first, but it's normal..."
Kuzco stared at Pacha, his face growing more horrified with every sentence. "Man, WHAT are you TALKing about!?" he said.
Pacha reeled back. "What were YOU talking about? Because I thought you were talking about..." He made a slight gesture with his hips, one that Kuzco picked up on immediately.
"Eeewww! No! Me discuss THAT? With YOU?!! I do KNOW how it works, okay- I was taken to a brothel for my sixteenth birthday. All princes are. I just wanted some tips on getting her to like me! Oh, SICK!!!"
Pacha rolled his eyes, face still flaming, as Kuzco dry-heaved over the side of his out the window. "I was ONLY trying to help."
"Then keep your mind out of the gutter!"
"My mind wasn't in the gutter!"
"You're right. I think the 'privy' would be a more appropriate place."
A huge argument certainly would have erupted had Kuta not interfered, barging into Kuzco's receiving room.
"Your highness!"
Kuzco nearly tumbled off of the windowsill. "WHAT!?" he said, the adrenaline rush from nearly falling making blood drum in his ears.
"The princess is ready to dismount."
"So what do I have to do with that?"
Kuta nervously shifted his feet. "Your highness, tradition demands that you be there to welcome your bride."
Kuzco opened his mouth, a sarcastic comment just dying to come out, but he caught Pacha's eye, threw his new mantle over his linen-robed shoulders, and headed out without comment. Pacha, who was acting as his valet for the week, went to see to his wardrobe for dinner.
Kuzco approached the elegant cocoon, noting the tense look on his advisors' faces when he walked up to it and reached for the curtain. They think I'm going to throw a tantrum or say something nasty, he thought, smirking. Losers. Might as well spare the poor boys some heart trouble, he thought, pulling back the curtain and extending his hand, a charming smile plastered on his face.
"Welcome, princess," he said to the warm, scented darkness inside. He could hear each and every one of his advisors let out gusty breaths of relief. He felt a small, warm hand studded with rings fall in his, and a young woman emerged onto the velvet steps. He felt a small, warm hand studded with rings fall in his, and a girl emerged onto the velvet steps.
She was tall, taller than him, in fact, and rather curvy, yet slender, with pale, pale ivory skin, dark hair gathered up into a knot, save for a thick strand of hair that fell across her forehead, and large, green-flecked amber eyes. Her eyebrows were thick and dramatic, startlingly dark against her skin, and she had full, red lips now curved into a slightly mocking smirk. She couldn't have been older than seventeen, eighteen being a charitable guess.
"Took you long enough to get here," she snapped in a high, slightly nasal tone, taking his hand and dismounting. In her other hand was a thin, gold goblet studded heavily with crystals. She tossed her head back, took a sip from it and promptly spit it out, narrowly missing Kuzco's sandal.
"Yick!" she said. "It's positively tepid. Honey, refresh this," she said, handing the cup to a surprised guard. "Vintage 200 B.C. And make it quick!"
When he didn't move, she gave him an exasperated look. "Hasn't your train of thought left the station yet? Hurry up! C'mon!" she snapped her fingers and prodded the guard on with one tip of a pointed shoe.
Satisfied that the guard was on his way, she turned to her husband-to-be. "I hope you're not as slow as your help," she said to Kuzco.
Kuzco took offense. "Who are you calling slow? Me?"
"Who am I calling 'slow?' good question, I don't know yet. What's your name?"
Kuzco's mouth dropped open. She waited for a minute, then looked at him and smiled. "Take your time honey." She rearranged the folds of her delicate white gown and headed for the intricately carved double doors, yelling through the one that was open. "Hey, robot-suit! Where's my drink!"
She turned around to Kuzco, who was still shell-shocked. "So, are you going to show me around, or wha..." She suddenly looked up at the sun, squinting irritably as she shielded her eyes with one jeweled hand.
"Good lord!!!" she cried. "Am I outside!!??"
Should I keep going? Please review!