Prompt: "Hurt"
Two pairs of aggrieved eyes looked at Jareth.
"It's serious, your majesty-"
"It is not, you whining little-"
"Shut up! I am talking to the king, you stinkin' pile of firey droppings-"
"What did you call me-"
"Silence!" The king's voice thundered, ominous with implied threat. "You will tell me – without any more of your incessant bickering – what exactly your complaint is. Or I will acquaint you both most intimately with the Bog."
Twin gulps echoed in the chamber.
At last, the first one spoke. "C-c-ould you d-decide for us if my mother is a fraggin' aardvark?"