Carlotta the Ancient
Y163 – Y138, born to Humberto and Winetta
Old Carlotta Weller sat on her throne. She was knitting a scarf with her steel knitting needles, which she had acquired on special order from the castle blacksmith. The scarf was blood red. This was likely so the stains wouldn't show when she inevitably used it to strangle someone.
Yes, Carlotta was a tough old broad. She had survived numerous assassination attempts. They never went well, not for the assassins. Carlotta was determined to die peacefully in her sleep… or die trying.
"Your Majesty, it is time for break-"
"Oh, blow it out your hiney, Jenkins," she interrupted. "I don't need food. Did your mother teach you to interrupt an old lady's knitting session? Do it again and you will be on bunion duty." Jenkins left the room in terror.
It was soon tie for Carlotta's hobble in the garden. It used to be a walk, but as she got older she took to hobbling. Not because she had trouble walking, mind you, but to catch any would-be assassins off-guard. A purse dangling from one arm, the new scarf hanging from the other, she daintily walked among the trees with her eyes-half closed. She was the bait.
Jessop Markina was the hunter. He had waited day after day in the garden, observing the queen's movements. Every day she walked, nay, hobbled, though the flowers. The old biddy could barely walk! On this day he had finally summoned the courage to take her down. His hand gripped tightly the hilt of his sword. When she drew near, he launched himself from his hiding spot with a sharp yell.
"Die Carlotta Well-" WHAM. He flew back as the old biddy's purse, filled with bricks, hit him in the side of the head. Staggering, he then steadied himself on a tree and turned around, only to be hit in the face once more.
"Hah! A would-be assassin, I see! Want to take out Old Carlotta Weller? Well, you'll have to try harder than that, sonny!" A swift kick to the groin left him in a fetal position. He had one more opportunity. As she hobbled over to hit him again, he quickly swiped his sword along the ground to cut off her feet.
"A-ha!" she yelled, doing an epic front-flip and landing on his chest."
"The old broad just won't die!" he gasped as she ended his life.
"Not to a whipper-snapper like you, at any rate," she cackled, dropping the red scarf unceremoniously on his face as she tottered away.
"Jenkins! Breakfast! Now!"