Chapter 10: Ouch, That's Way Harsh.

I didn't find King Bowser, but that evening, I found the koopalings roughhousing in a hallway. "Have any of you seen your father?" I started to ask.

Just then Junior yelled "Incoming!" I looked up - and dove to the floor with an 'eep!' as a huge, spiky shell came flying my way. The koopalings shouted and scattered impressively as it bounced and rattled off the walls as it slid across the floor and down the hall.

Junior cackled jovially, pleased with our reactions. Grumbling, I picked myself up and brushed myself off. "Where'd you get that, anyway?" I asked crossly.

It looked kind of like...

"It's Dad's," Junior admitted, a touch sheepishly. "I sneaked off with it while he was taking his bath."

No doubt the king was not pleased when he discovered this. In my brief time here, I had quickly learned that all koopas greatly valued their shells. As such an important part of themselves, they felt embarrassed and ashamed when they were without them. Kind of like if I were to be forced to walk around in nothing but my underclothes.

Personally, I thought koopas looked kind of cute without their shells, but...

"You had better give it back," I advised.

"I will," Junior promised as he scurried by. "Just as soon as I clobber Ludwig!"

At least now I knew where his Highness was. Without his shell, it was doubtful he would leave his room. I made my way to the royal bedchamber, which was closed tight, so I knocked politely on one of the massive double doors.

"Go away," a sharp voice ordered.

He sounded pretty mad. I knew I was pushing my luck if I went inside anyway, but...knowing that he didn't have his shell on, I didn't see him actively trying to get rid of me right now, so I pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside.

The fire was blazing fiercer than usual, and his royal Highness was sitting in bed, shielded by the scarlet sheets and blanket. He had the leather-bound journal in his hand, which he fumbled when he saw me. "What you doing in here?" he demanded angrily as he shoved the book under the covers. "I said go away!"

He tugged the blanket up to his chin. Hiding a smile, I started across the vast room. Honestly, I thought this was only fair; he had seen me fully exposed, after all. It seemed only right that I see him. Not that there was much to see, what with him hiding like that. Only his arms and shoulders were exposed, though they were currently bare, the black bands nowhere in sight. I paused beside the bed, eyeing how those arms rippled with firm muscle even during a simple act such as clutching the bedcovers. His shoulders were so very broad, and it truly struck me then, how much raw power must flow through those limbs. A shiver touched me.

"I wanted to apologize," I said in a rush, before I lost my nerve. "About earlier," I added, when a touch of confusion crept into his features.

His expression smoothed. "Oh. That. Forget about it. I shouldn't have let myself forget that one needs to be careful around a lady's chambers. I should have knocked, or something."

"Still, I..."

I trailed off in disbelief. Did he just, in a manner of speaking, apologize?

"I shouldn't have...done what I did," I said, looking down at my slippers as I blushed.

"Forget it," he said again, and when I glanced up I saw that he, too, was blushing. He tugged the blanket higher. "Let's not talk about it anymore. Ever."

I nodded, relieved. I started to turn to go - then stopped and faced him again. "Oh, just so you know, Junior has your shell."

His eyebrows drew together as he scowled. "Figures. That kid..."

"Is quite a handful," I supplied, smiling.

Bowser chuckled a moment, his annoyance forgotten. "He sure is. Just like I was."

And still are, I was tempted to say, but held my tongue. I glanced at the piano. "Shall I...?"

Bowser considered it for a moment. A faint smile touched his lips as he lay back, hands folded on his chest. "That might not be too horrible."

Grinning, I went to the stool and tapped out the first notes of one of my favorite arias. It wasn't quite a lullaby, but it wasn't an overly lively tune, either. Bowser said nothing, so I played on, eventually drifting to a ballad. I wasn't one for singing - that was Clarabelle's department - but I found myself humming along to the melody.

When the song ended, I looked over and saw that Bowser had closed his eyes. Smiling to myself, I got up and went over to the bed. The blanket lay over his midsection; I gently tugged it up so it was beneath his chin. As I was leaning over him to lay it around his shoulders, his eyes suddenly opened.

I froze. I didn't know whether to apologize and run, or leave quietly, acting like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. I did neither, instead staring, lips parted, waiting with my breath held.

I thought he would get mad, but instead he looked sleepy - and amused. "You're a strange girl, Rosabelle," he commented.

My tension evaporated, and I straightened, lips pursed. "You're telling me?" I muttered, then cringed. I really asked for it sometimes.

Bowser surprised me again by laughing. "I know, I'm one to talk, right?"

Chuckling to himself, he closed his eyes again. Relieved, I took a step back, intending to go, but I paused. He looked so different during times like these, so quiet and peaceful. With the covers tucked so high, he almost looked innocent. Almost.

I felt something inside me warm as I studied his face, so relaxed and calm, the faintest of smiles on his lips. He was so cute...

I almost choked as this thought crept into my brain. I turned and scurried off to my own room, berating myself along the way. What was the matter with me?

Unfortunately, I knew the answer. As naughty as he was, I was attracted to the king of the koopas. The thought made my head swim as I pressed a hand to my pounding heart, but there was no denying it anymore. He was so strangely handsome in his way, from his strong features, to his fiery hair, to those powerful limbs. Just the thought of how much sheer strength must be in his hands alone left me a little breathless.

I went to bed and tried not to think about it anymore, but the harder I tried not to, the more I thought about it. I kept picturing how his hair seemed to mirror the firelight reflecting off of it, how his eyes glinted when he was in a good mood. How they blazed when he wasn't.

Dwelling on it so much made me a little jumpy, to the point where my heart started to thud whenever I heard his voice. That voice...it was so low, deep, and powerful, it gave me the chills. It all had me so edgy my face would burn whenever he was near...only after days of this, I began to suspect that my own edginess had nothing to do with it.

And then one day it happened. It was nearly two months since I first arrived at the castle and I had just mailed off another letter to my parents. I hadn't seen Junior yet today, so I went looking for him. I didn't find him, though I did find his father, out behind the castle in the training grounds.

The koopa troop was gathered, along with the paratroopas, the bomb-ombs, the goombas, and the shy guys. It looked like Bowser was giving a speech. On top of a small platform that didn't look suited for his weight.

"We've worked long and hard for this," he was saying as I approached. "At last, victory is guaranteed to be ours."

This triggered a round of cheers and applause from his rapt listeners. "It's been a long, hard road," he continued, "but we-"

He never got to finish, because the platform chose that moment to crack. It split in two and he fell, landing on his spiked shell with an impressive thump that rattled the weapon racks. For a moment everyone, including me, could only stare in shock.

Then someone stifled a snicker, which got most of the others going. While they fought with the giggles, a swell of emotion filled my heart until it ached. How could they not see how hard he tried, how much of himself he had invested in this? I wanted to slap them all silly, though really, none of it was my business. I wanted to just the same. I wanted them to go back to cheering, to show their king the proper support and respect.

But really, what did I care? I asked myself this in that moment - and realization hit me so hard in the face I had no choice but to see it. Even if I didn't agree with the things he did, I wanted him to succeed. I wanted him to be happy. I wanted to see him smile. Because somehow, without even knowing it, I had fallen in love with him.

Somebody save me, I was in love with this crazy monarch.

There was time to kick myself later. For now, I grabbed my skirts and ran to his side, where I bent over him. Not that I had to bend very far; even sprawled on the ground he was bigger than me.

"Are you all right?" I asked softly.

He grumbled something in response. Relieved that nothing was hurt but his pride, I held out my hand. He looked at it a little blankly - really, the very idea of me trying to help him up was ridiculous - but then he lightly gripped my fingers. I did little other than hold his hand as he picked himself up, but I didn't mind. It was the longest, closest form of contact we ever had, and I was reluctant to let go, even after he was safely on his feet again.

I didn't let go. I slid my hand further into his and tightened my grip. His fingers were quite hard, his skin pleasantly smooth. And even in its current relaxed state, I could feel the sheer power that pulsed in his fingers. My breath quickened a little.

I could feel his eyes on me, no doubt wondering why I didn't let go. I lifted my head slowly, my cheeks warming, my lips parting slightly as I caught my breath. The rush of feeling inside me was so unexpected, so new, I couldn't hide it. I could feel it raw and plain on my face, exposed for all to see.

Our eyes locked. My heart pounded. And then he reached over, patted my head and said, "Thanks, Rosabelle. You're a good girl."

He left, and I stood there blankly, feeling numb and stupid. A good girl? I echoed mentally. That sounded like something he would say to a child. Or a pet.

For a moment I was so embarrassed I tried to push the crazy notion that I wanted him out of my head - but no. I had never been a quitter. Maybe he was so used to being lonely, he had trouble seeing what was right in front of his face.

Well. I could certainly fix that. I hadn't forgotten about the ball everyone was excited to attend, less than a week away. My thoughts churned, rapidly forming a plan. I wasn't going to go unnoticed, my feelings ignored. I was no child.

And on the night of the Mushroom Kingdom independence day ball, I was going to prove it.