Chapter 7: I Think That Qualifies As Rude.

Later that same day, I was roped into fetching stray arrows for the koopalings, who decided to hold an archery tournament in the courtyard. Looking back, I'm not really sure how I was roped into this...but I didn't really mind until Roy complained about the height of the small targets and suggested the problem be remedied by me holding them above my head. I put my foot down then.

"My primary concern is Junior," I reminded him, "so I'm not obligated to do things that don't directly relate to him."

Junior wouldn't insist I comply with Roy's wishes...at least, I hoped he wouldn't.

Fortunately, he was busy teasing a piranha plant that grew near the pond in the middle of the courtyard and wasn't paying the least bit attention.

"You think you're good?" Wendy said in a challenging tone. "Prove it; make Junior take a bath."

Junior nearly fell into the pond. "No!" he squealed, racing away while his siblings snickered.

"Child's play," I sniffed, walking calmly after him.

Wendy just didn't understand kids, and Junior's last nursemaid mustn't have, either. Or she just had a low tolerance for fire.

Getting grubby little koopas clean wasn't much of a chore; you just put more soap bubbles and bath toys into the tub than water and they were all too happy to dive in. For an hour or so I helped Junior lay siege against the Mushroom Kingdom's cruiser with Bowser's battleships. Come dinnertime, I had to drag him out of the tub to get him to go eat.

By the end of everything, I was dripping wet, but fortunately the seamstress had made me several robes and nightgowns I could wear while my dress was being cleaned. I took a warm shower, then relaxed in a robe and fuzzy slippers while sipping something called a kerokerocola. I thought they were particularly delicious with whipped cream on top.

I was noisily draining the last few drops through the straw when there was a tapping on my door. I was a little embarrassed to be seen in my current attire, but I called out, "Come in."

The koopa maid who dusted my room peeked in. "King Bowser wants to see you," she said timidly. "He's in his bedchamber."

She retreated, and I felt an unpleasant knot form in my stomach. What did his royal brattiness want now, especially at this late hour? Perhaps he wants to give me a raise, I mentally joked as I went to the vanity. Highly unlikely since I wasn't being paid for caring for Junior to begin with.

I ran the comb over my slightly damp hair, but there wasn't much I could do about my attire. I only had one dress, and it was still drying in the laundry room and I doubted his Highness would wait that long. I took a moment to tug a nightgown over my head before slipping the robe back on and switching to my regular black slippers, then scurried down the long corridors to the royal bedchamber.

His royal crankiness lay on the bed, a clawed hand pressed to his forehead. The bed sheets must have been awfully well made to be able to sustain the weight of those spikes without tearing.

I came to stand a few feet from the bed and stood, hands clasped. I flushed a little - he might be foul-tempered, but a king was a king and I felt a little ashamed to be in his presence in a bathrobe - but he didn't seem to notice.

With a loud groan, he said, "All that noise from before, and all that work..."

He waved his other hand at his desk. I looked and saw that the papers were mounded higher than ever, along with a series of maps and charts. Whatever scheme he was plotting didn't look like it was going very well.

"I've got a monster of a headache," he said, groaning and rubbing his forehead.

I didn't see what he expected me to do about it. I had many skills, but curing headaches wasn't one of them. Bowser gestured again, and I noticed for the first time that the piano had been brought in. It had been placed, to my dismay, a little close to the fireplace, which didn't have a safety screen.

"Go ahead and play one of those boring songs you seem so fond of," he instructed, rubbing between his eyes as he spoke. "Maybe it'll help me sleep."

My embarrassment over my attire was quickly forgotten as I scowled, indignant. I knew dozens of compositions so breathtakingly beautiful they could bring a tyrant to tears, and he was hoping I would bore him to sleep?

I was tempted to pound out the wildest tune I knew...but Junior had recently shown me the dungeon, and I didn't particularly care to be tossed down there. Instead, I mustered as much dignity as I could, crossed to the stool and sat. If he wanted to sleep, then I would oblige him and play a lullaby.

I knew several, and I began with the longest one I knew, adjusting the tempo so it was a tiny bit slower than normal. The pleasant, dreamy song helped sooth my own nerves, and I felt relaxed as it finished and I moved into the next one. I didn't bother looking to see if my audience approved; I kept my eyes on the keys and continued playing, until my lids started to droop.

Cutting the last lullaby I knew short, I stretched with a yawn. I must have been playing for nearly two hours. No one scolded me for stopping, so I looked and saw that his kingship lay with his hands folded on his chest. His eyes were closed, his chin tucked down against his chest.

He wasn't snoring, but he was clearly in a deep sleep. Relieved, I got up from the piano and started to tiptoe to the door. Bowser suddenly made a chuffing sound; I paused as a billow of smoke curled from his closed mouth. He didn't move otherwise, and I felt a smile touch my lips. He looked so calm and peaceful right now, it was hard to believe he was the same creature who annoyed me so much when he was awake.

That annoyance had faded, and I moved over to the bed where the blanket was kept at the foot. It was made from thick velvet, and the sheets from satin. Extremely thick, sturdy satin, the strongest I had ever seen. The velvet made a whisper of sound as I unfolded it and drew it up over the slumbering king.

He didn't so much as twitch as I tucked it under his chin. And then, though I have no idea what possessed me to do it, I reached up and fingered the tips of his flame-like hair. It felt stiffer, coarser than Junior's - was I expecting something else? - yet there was an underlying feeling of softness. It was kind of strange, and I, embarrassed by my own behavior, pulled my hand away and beat a hasty retreat back to my room.

The next morning, donned in my freshly cleaned dress, I headed to the seamstress to request several backup dresses. I used the same design - why not? - then went to breakfast. The head cook was particularly steamed because, as she told me the second I walked through the door, King Bowser planned to give her the night off when the upcoming ball, which I vaguely remembered somebody mentioning before, rolled around.

"Isn't that a good thing?" I wondered.

I was given a look like I had lost my mind. "Good?" she echoed cattily. "Sure, it's good - if I wanted to laze around doing nothing! Sure, it would be nice not to have to cook for those ungrateful brats for a change - but did anyone think of inviting me along to the ball! Of course not! Not me, who has slaved for this family for years, because why would anyone..."

She rambled on, but I had stopped listening. I squeezed some fruit and made a tall glass of mixed juice, which turned out tart and delicious. I felt like eating outside today, so I packed a small basket, folded a cloth over it and headed out to the courtyard.

Smelling the meal, a chain chomp perked up as I went by. Taking pity on it, I tossed a slice of bread to it, then, feeling bold, I patted its hard, smooth head. It barked and licked its teeth happily. Feeling pleased with myself, I moved on - and saw that I wasn't alone.

King Bowser sat at the edge of the pond, and Junior was with him. They were, of all things, fishing, something Junior had clearly never attempted before. But as I watched, his ordinarily caustic father remained patient with him, showing him the proper way to bait a hook again and again. It amazed me that someone so harsh and abrupt could act so...nice.

It seemed a little unfair, though. True, Bowser showed affection to his other children...just not as much as he did Junior. I couldn't help but wonder why.

Like I was one to talk. I doted on Junior more than I did the others, too. Not wanting to disturb such a quiet family moment, I started to tiptoe away, but Junior spotted me.

"Hey, Rosie," he called happily. "Commere!"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to interrupt," I said quickly, in case Bowser grew annoyed.

"Oh, don't be silly," Junior said impatiently. He patted the space beside him, and I hesitantly walked around the pond and sat down. Bowser ignored me and started showing Junior how to cast - which was an interesting thing to try and eat during. I munched between ducking and dodging, enjoying the morning in spite of myself.

I finished eating and rested my hands on my knees as I watched father and son fish together. Junior eventually caught a fat cheep cheep, which he streaked straight to the kitchen with. I'm sure the head cook was thrilled when he showed up with it.

Chuckling to myself, I leaned back a little, my eyes on the decorations. There weren't any pastel flowers, but I liked the dark foliage a little better anyway. I was growing used to the chain chomps, but the piranha plants, who sat around in their green pots all day and spit fire at you when it suited them, I wasn't so sure about.

One of them was teasing a bomb-omb guard who was patrolling the grounds - not a very smart thing to do, by my estimation - who in turn threatened to hold still one of these days so it could see what happened. I chuckled again and leaned further. My head brushed something warm; I rested against it, feeling sleepy and content.

And then it dawned on me. My blood turned cold as I slowly lifted my eyes - and found King Bowser staring down at me, one eyebrow lifted above an otherwise deadpan expression.

My cheeks burned as I scrambled to get up, nearly tripping and falling into the pond in my haste. "Sorry," I stammered.

I grabbed my basket and fled. I ran back to my room, where I closed the door and leaned against the vanity as I peered at my reflection. My cheeks were doing my name justice; they looked like bright red roses.

What's the big deal? I asked myself. It was only Bowser. King B. He was rude, thoughtless, and an all around not nice guy. Yet, I realized in dismay as I pressed a hand to my warm face, that that didn't seem to make a difference in one respect.

I still thought he was kind of cute.