Title: Artharella: A Dragon Booster Parody
Genre/s: Humor/Parody
Summary: Artha and Moordryd are taken to a strange Alternate Universe where they are now suddenly stepbrothers, Word is nicer than usual, medieval things still exist, and Artha is being called Artharella! What in the Magna Draconis is going on here?!
Main character/s: Artha, Moordryd
Pairings: Gen-ish Artha/Kitt
Rating: G to PG
Warnings: It's a Cinderella parody, a literate parody, a Sue parody in some retrospect, and a deliberate Alternate Dimension Travelling story. Anti-Artha/Kitt shippers may cringe, but it's not much. Also if you strongly believe that allusions and pop culture references = blatant plagiarism, hit the Back button right now.
Word Count: 14,481 as of current standing from Ch. 1 - 6
No. of Chapters: 6 at the moment.
Complete/WiP: WiP
Concrit: Neutral
Mary-Sue: Yes. Deliberate Sue and intentional bouts of canon raep.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Dragon Booster, or Cinderella, or ANY of the pop culture allusions mentioned here.
A/N: Remember this topic? And the Artharella challenge which is this:

Well, I never posted it here, but I did take that on a couple years back. Was updated just recently with three new chapters, so I'll be crossposting it here to bring more fic to this particular community. ^_^

- - - - - - -

Artharella: A Dragon Booster Parody
Written by: Skylii

Chapter 1: The Twist

Once upon a time, long, long ago, in a majestic and vast kingdom with slight futuristic features here and there, there was a large, tall, majestic mansion, owned by rich people. See, this person married this very rich woman, but then she died for some unknown reason, and now this man is very wealthy, along with his two sons, and his stepson, Artha, who was now known as Artharella.
Or maybe it was the two bad conks on the head that Artha and Moordryd took when they were fighting each other.

“H-huh…what?” Artha muttered, a hand on his head as he groaned and sat up. He looked around and immediately fell back down. “What in the Magna Draconis - ?” he gasped. “What’s with this place?” He looked at himself and screamed. “And what’s with the rags? And the apron? Huh?”

He bolted upwards and his head whirled this way and that way, his eyes boggling. “What in the Magna Draconis is going on?”

Just then Moordryd stepped in, wearing rather rich and ridiculous regalia. “What in the Magna Draconis is going on?” he cried. “And, uh…what’s with the tatty dress?”

“That’s what I asked!” Artha cried back. “And shut up, I don’t know why I’m wearing a tatty dress. Is this one of your sick, twisted plans?”

“You know that it’s my father that makes all the sick, twisted plans!” Moordryd said. He gave a smug smile. “I’m just the extremely tough guy.”

“Sick, twisted plans?” Word said, suddenly stepping in, wearing the same style of rich and ridiculous clothing. “Why, whatever do you mean, my son?”

“Father, good, you’re here!” Moordryd gasped. “Where are we?”

“Why, in our lovely house, Moordryd,” Word replied quaintly, and scowled. “Now why are you conversing with that filthy and disgusting stubborn boy? You have more important things to do.”

Moordryd and Artha blinked in unison as Word turned on his heels with a swish of his clothes. “Something’s not right…” Artha said.

“Oh, no scales,” Moordryd remarked dryly.

At that moment Vociferous walked in with a rich and ridiculous outfit, very similar to Word and Moordryd’s. “Dear brother, what are you doing around the filthy and disgusting stubborn boy?” Vociferous snapped to Moordryd.

The white-haired teenager’s jaw fell open. “You – but you’re not – what the – this is a – holy – wha – ” he stammered, trying to get the proper words out of his mouth . Artha just stood there, blinking in confusion…and slightly amused at all this. Finally Moordryd managed to calm down and say, “But you’re not my brother, Vociferous! I have no brothers!”

“Huh, what a rude thing to say!” Vociferous huffed. “Now quit hanging around with our stupid stepbrother over there! He’s supposed to be scrubbing these floors! Look at them, they’re filthy!”

Artha coughed and nearly choked, and Moordryd nearly fell over in pure shock. “Stepbrother?”they both shrieked, spinning to face each other with wide eyes. “Stepbrother?”

“And wait, whaddaya mean I gotta scrub these floors?” Artha snapped, turning back to Vociferous. He eyed the floor, which looked clean to him, in fact, unnaturally clean. “They’re already clean!”

“No, they’re not!” Vociferous responded snidely. “Now get to work!”

Artha screamed as a dirty rag suddenly hit his head. A bucket of soapy water was shoved in his hands. He grabbed the rag and threw it on the grounds. “You clean it up!” he retorted. “I gotta be dragon racing and saving the world and all that drac stuff!”

“Saving the world?” Moordryd echoed, his eyebrow arching suspiciously.

“Uh, uh, I mean, helping to save the world,” Artha said, folding his arms and sticking his nose in the air. “Unlike what you’re doing!”

“Would you stop talking with him already!” Vociferous yelled, pushing Artha to the ground. “The more you talk with him, the less time he’s got to make this whole house sparkle.”

“But it’s…already sparkling,” Moordryd pointed out timidly, lifting a finger.

“Whatever!” Vociferous replied, rolling his eyes. “Now get to work, you rat!”

Moordryd was indeed very confused now, but he shrugged and kicked Artha. “You heard him, stable brat!” Moordryd sneered, enjoying picking on the stable boy. “Start cleaning these floors up!”

Artha blew a raspberry at him. “Stupid Moordryd the Moronic,” Artha muttered, snatching the rag and throwing it into the bucket of water, causing foam to spray everywhere.

Moordryd brushed off the foam that splattered on his shoulders. “Stupid Artha the Asinine,” he retorted.

“Artha? We’re calling him Artharella, remember?” Vociferous corrected.

“Artha what?!” Artha cried.

“He said Artharella, Artharella,” Moordryd snickered. Vociferous punched his arm. “Ow! What?!”

“We need to practice dragon jousting, remember?” Vociferous said. “Would probably impress the fair maidens.”

“The whu – seriously, who calls them that anymore?” Moordryd responded, making a weird face.

“Ugh, quit acting so stupid!” Vociferous scoffed, turning around sharply and walking away briskly. “And make Artharella get to work! I want to see my face in these floors when you’re done!”

“Who’d wanna see your face anyway?” Artha screamed, standing up to follow Vociferous and clobber him, but instead slipped on the soapy rag and fell on the floor. Moordryd gave him an unimpressed glance.

“Well, now this is weird!” Moordryd cried, throwing his arms in the air. “My father is treating me nicely, Vociferous is my brother, you’re our stepbrother, and you have a really sissified name.”

“Shut up,” Artha grumbled.

“I won’t shut up, and you wanna know why?” Moordryd said, on the break of hysteria. “Because I’m stuck in some kind of freakish alternate reality!”

“Hey, you know, have you tried wearing pretty red shoes and clicking your heels?” Artha drawled. “I heard that’s the quickest way of getting home.”

“What?” Moordryd said, staring at Artha strangely.

“Just some thing I read outta this book,” Artha said, lifting up a book out of nowhere. “It’s called ‘101 Lines and More of C-something-ness and Really B-something whatever. Now, since the text is slightly faded before the ‘ness and the whatever thing I just said and they each started with a ‘C’, I decided it was called ‘101 Lines and More of Coolness and Really Bodacious Comments’.”

Moordryd slapped the palm of his head against his forehead, snatched the book and flipped through a few pages. “Yeah, this is the book called ‘101 Lines and More of Cheesiness and Really Bad Clichés’, you fool!” Moordryd sighed, throwing the book at Artha’s head.

Artha dove at Moordryd and tried breaking his nose, while Moordryd tried kicking Artha to give him a broken neck. At that moment there was a muffled explosion of green, and a rather skinny teenage girl with spiky lime green hair, green eyes and a brightly colored outfit with a dark cape appeared out of nowhere, slight levitated off the ground. “Alright, alright, break it up!” she said, and jumped on both of them, ending up sitting down on top of them.

“Hey, c’mon, get off me!” Artha screamed.

“Yeah, if I do, I don’t think you’re getting something good in return,” the girl snapped.

“I know what I’m gonna be getting if you keep sitting on us,” Moordryd groaned. “A hernia! Off, now!”

“Geez, keep your pants on!” the girl said, standing up. Artha and Moordryd gasped and groaned, sitting up.

“Okay, now who in Dragon City are you supposed to be?” Artha asked.

“Oh, I forgot!” she said, grinning widely. “My name’s Suesie Dystorshun, and I’m uber-perfect and all that stuff!”

“Can I call you Sue?” Moordryd said, a mocking tone in his voice.

Suesie punched his arm. “Ow,” Moordryd gasped as she grabbed a book entitled “The Critical Eye” and burned it up with a small torch.

“So, what do you guys wanna know?” she asked, folding her arms.

“Why do you have such bad fashion taste?” Artha asked.

He winced as she punched his arm. “And why are you so violent?” he hissed, rubbing the spot she just punched.

“Because I’m special,” Suesie replied with an annoying grin. “And I know that you guys are stuck here in a strange reality of immense weirdness.”

“Weirdness?” Moordryd scoffed, unimpressed with her vocabulary.

“Yeah, it’s a word. Got a problem with that?” she retorted.

“Yeah, I – ” Moordryd started, ducking as she came flying (literally) at him. There was the sound of breaking glass, followed by a thump. “Why are we here anyway?”

“Why are you here? Why are you here? Well, you are here to be punished inhumanely and unjustly and to experience the torture of your liiiiives!” Suesie said, cackling maniacally.

“Mental,” Moordryd muttered under his breath.

He sidestepped smartly as Suesie charged at him again, this time hitting Artha. “Ow!” Artha cried, sitting up. “Geez, no need to play rough!”

“Whatever,” she said, standing up and dusting her shoulders. “So, anyway, for that, you’re staying here until the torture all ends.”

“WHAT?” Artha and Moordryd screamed, their jaws falling open and their eyes widening in terror.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Artha said, looking around. “Where’s Parm, Lance, and Kitt? And Beau! And my amulet and gauntlet!”

“Amulet and what?” Moordryd asked suspiciously.

“Nothing!” Artha said, giving an obvious grin. Moordryd rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket, only to realize that his own amulet wasn’t there.

Huh? Moordryd thought, blinking. Where’s Armeggaddon?

“Right, well, you two are missing some things, which I have in custody,” Suesie said.

“Then give ‘em back,” Artha told her.

“Oh! Well, I only have Beau with me right now,” she said, and held out a small newt that strongly resembled Beau.

“AAAH! Beau!” Artha shrieked, holding the morphed dragon in his hands. “Speak to me, boy!”

Beau burped in his face. “Phew!” Artha gasped, coughing. “Yeah, good enough.”

“Decepshun is still a normal dragon, though,” Suesie said, pointing out the door.

“Alright!” Moordryd said, smirking. Artha rolled his eyes as Beau clambered onto his shoulder.

“Oh, man, this is gonna be soooo funny!” Suesie laughed, a wicked grin spreading on her face.

“Funny?” Artha repeated, grabbing her collar. “Funny? Just how is all this funny? I’m wearing a dress, I don’t have Beau with me, and I’m being called Artharella!”

“Oh, so this is Artharella!” Suesie said, snapping her fingers. “So that explains the suspicious and similar atmosphere and title, and why I didn’t see any magic swords, evil wizards and sorceresses, damsels in distress or heroic kings!”

Artha and Moordryd exchanged confused glances. “Er…it’s a stupid inadequate joke, okay?” Suesie said, rolling her eyes. “Now I’ll just leave you all to your torture.” And with that she vanished.

“Hey, wait, come back!” Artha screamed, flailing his arms desperately. “We need to get outta here! Aw, scales!”

“Yeah, I know!” Moordryd agreed, seething. “If that weirdo shows her face again, she’s a scale-scraping goner.” He picked up the water bucket and shoved it in Artha’s hands. “Now get cleaning!” he snapped, walking away. “While I’m here, I’ll enjoy this moment. You, Artharella, probably won’t.”

“Hey, you should be respecting me!” Artha yelled, despite the fact that Moordryd wasn’t listening. “If I could change into the Dragon Booster right now, I’d kick your stupid little AAAH!”

He slipped on the rag yet again and hit the floor. “Magna Draconis, this is gonna be a looooooong day…” Artha groaned.

To Be Continued...

Chapter 2: The Twisting

“Stupid wacko girl and stupid Moordryd,” Artha muttered as he dusted off the rich, ornate drapes. Beau rolled his eyes as Artha went on to the next pair of drapes to dust. “Stupid Vociferous and stupid Word! Stupid wacko – ow! Beau!”

The newt, once a dragon, simply gave a relieved sigh. “Geez, I wish you’d quit talking with your tail!” Artha grumbled, staring around. “Okay, Vociferous, I’m done.”

Vociferous marched back in, with Moordryd following. The white-haired boy’s face, however, looked rather grim. “So, how was the jousting lesson?” Artha asked with a wicked smirk.

Moordryd’s frown deepened. “Well, I think I may be able to beat Phistus without having a wraith dragon on hand,” he mumbled, tossing his lance aside.

“Yeah, that’s true, losing to him that badly,” Artha said, still grinning.

“And just how do you know about that?” Moordryd retorted, staring suspiciously at Artha. “Huh…Artharella?”

The dark-haired boy simply whistled innocently as Vociferous inspected the drapes. His face fell as Vociferous groaned and shook his head. “You missed a spot, in fact, about ten dozen spots!” the pink-haired man said.

“But it…it’s clean!” Artha protested, raising a finger, but Vociferous shushed him sharply. “Hey, don’t you ‘shush’ me, you scale-scraping – ”

“Who’s a scale-scraping something?” Vociferous snapped. “If you ask me, it’s you! Now get!”

Artha started muttering darkly under his breath. “And watch your mouth!” Vociferous added hotly, kicking Artha’s rear and causing him to fall face-first on the ground, also causing the soapy water he used earlier to spill all over him. Moordryd couldn’t stop laughing and practically cried as Artha got up to go after Vociferous, instead slipping about a dozen couple of times, while Beau sprinted off and clambered onto a large plant.

Out of nowhere, Suesie appeared again. “Oh, well, nice of you to drop by,” Artha snarled. “Get her, Moordryd!”

“Hey, who are you to tell me what to do?” Moordryd retorted, however, he grabbed Suesie in a headlock before she could pull anymore tricks. “Alright, pixie! Tell us what we want to know, or you’ll really be experiencing what pain feels like?”

Suesie bashed her head forward into Moordryd’s. Artha and Beau blinked as both Moordryd and Suesie fell down. “You…scale-scraping…idiotic little…” Moordryd gasped painfully, grasping his head as Suesie curled into a ball on the floor.

“Hehe, that was fun!” she snickered weakly.

“You’re messed in the head!” Moordryd shrieked, wanting to use “delusional” instead but had no current intention of using the more descriptive description. “What, concussions are your idea of FUN?”

“For her, who knows?” Artha drawled.

“That was meant to be a rhetorical question,” Moordryd groaned, sitting up at last with a hand still on his head. Beau hissed at Suesie, who prepared to flick him off the plant. Seeing an advantage, Artha lunged forward, grabbed both her arms and got her on the ground again, face-first, while Beau scurried off into a mouse hole.

“Alright, talk!” Artha yelled, pinning her to the ground in a half-Nelson maneuver. “How do we get out of this messed-up place, and how do we revert everybody back to normal? Word’s my stepfather, Vociferous is my stepbrother, and they’ve both become egocentric perfectionists!”

“Wow, Artharella can say big words,” Moordryd murmured under his breath.

Artha shot him and a chuckling Beau a menacing glare before turning back to Suesie. “Well?” he said.

“Okay, okay, OKAY! I’ll tell you what I know!” Suesie cried, still kicking. “Just get in the name of Magna Draconis off me!”

Artha obeyed, and suddenly she vanished. “Oh, for dragon’s sake – ” Moordryd screeched, throwing his arms in the air. “Thanks, Artharella! You let her get away!”

“Hey, it was your fault!” Artha growled. “You don’t have a hard enough skull, so she didn’t stay in pain long enough!”

“That’s a completely irrational reason!” Moordryd said irritably. “And I take that as an insult.”

“Well, at least you have the brains to figure that out,” Artha murmured, kicking Moordryd’s shins as he walked away. He was suddenly knocked to the floor and punched hard in the sides while Moordryd threw back insults at him. The punching stopped as the sounds of high heels could be heard walking in primly.

“Ugh, why is that disgusting boy still on the floor when there needs to be cleaning done?” Word’s voice sighed. “Moordryd, Vociferous, I have some very interesting news!”

“What is it, father?” Vociferous said, walking in with anticipation. Moordryd folded his arms and stared up at his father with a perfunctory expression.

A long scroll was unrolled and fell right down to the floor. It was written in fancy draconian letters, in gold ink. “We’re being invited to a party of some sort?” Vociferous gasped, while Moordryd began reading the ornate lettering.

“Probably. Looks girly, though,” Moordryd responded. “‘You are cordially invited to her Royal Highness and Second Highly Respected and Ever-so-beautiful Princess’ Royal Dragon Ball this lovely evening that will last from dusk to dawn, blah de blah, exquisite and rich foods, blah blah blah, wear your best and we mean best, as in best, okay yeah blah blah blah…sincerely, his Royal Highness and Highly Respected Majesty’s Grand Advisor…Rancydd? What in the Magna Draconis? Who writes this scales?”

“Pfft, it’s not scales!” Vociferous retorted, snatching the scroll from Word’s hands. “This is a one in your life or whatever the phrase is lifetime!”

“Okay…” Moordryd said, shifting his eyes away nervously. “Well, just what is the fuss about this anyway?”

“What, now we gotta dress in drag and dance the tango?” Artha smirked.

“Be silent, Artharella!” Word snapped coldly, grabbing the scroll from Vociferous. “Who said anything about the likes of you attending this ball?”

Artha rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, like I’d love to go to the ball,” he replied dryly. “Seriously, give me one good reason why I would actually want to attend?”

“Where were you?” Vociferous said. “This is what every male in Dragon Kingdom would love to attend! Oh, to have a chance to see Princess Kitt in person!”

Artha’s eyes popped wide open and his jaw dropped, while Moordryd fainted in absolute shock.

Kitt? he thought frantically. KITT? What, as in our Kitt Wonn? As in PRINCESS Kitt Wonn? As in her Royal Highness and Second Highly Respected and Ever-so-beautiful PRINCESS KITT WONN?

“Say you’re pulling my leg,” Artha whispered.

“Just why would I want to pull that leg of yours, Artharella?” Vociferous asked, gazing strangely at Artha.

At that exact moment Word found Artha down on his hands and knees in front of his feet. “Oh, please please please please please please please please please PLEASE let me attend this Dragon Ball or whatever it’s called, you just gotta!” Artha begged. “Before my remaining sanity nerves snap!”

“Oh, gee, well, that’s too bad, because you can’t,” Word replied.

“But why?” Artha whined, looking rather pathetic right now.

“Simple,” Word said hotly. “You’re nothing but a poor boy who has no good manners or form of proper etiquette in his system. You’re arrogant and annoying, you’re not done cleaning the house, and you look absolutely filthy in those rags.”

“These can’t be the only scale-scraping clothes I’ve got!” Artha cried.

“Well, it’s bad luck for you, boy, because they are,” Word said. “We can’t afford any clothes for you.”

“But you’re stinkin’ rich!”

“Well, er, I can’t waste time buying stuff for you, Artharella. Now get to work on the house!”

“This is child labor!” Artha roared as Word and Vociferous walked away with a swish. “And my name is Artha Tannis Penn, NOT ARTHARELLA!”

Moordryd finally came to and stared at Artha in pity. “You’re really sad,” he muttered, standing up.

“This is child labor!” Artha argued.

“You’re sixteen years old!” Moordryd pointed out.

“Er, uh, it’s an unjust right! I’ve been cleaning this scale-scraping huge house which is apparently scale-scraping clean for three scale-scraping hours without any scale-scraping breaks!”

“I dunno which is dirtier, stable brat, your clothes or your mouth,” Moordryd replied coolly. His face suddenly changed and his eyes widened. “Okay, your bratty girlfriend’s a princess? Dig my grave up, will you? I think I’m gonna die laughing.”

“Hey, I didn’t expect it either!” Artha said. “But apparently, she is.”

“Princess of the racing track, I can understand, but an actual, fairy tale, fancy-shmancy princess?” Moordryd added. “Wonder if she had amnesia or some other type of brain damage.” He stood up and walked away while Artha started ranting to nobody in particular as he grabbed the feather duster.

- - -

While Moordryd went outside to tend to Decepshun (who thank the Magna Draconis was acting quite normally), two figures approached him. Moordryd turned around and blinked as he saw Parm, a monocle on his right eye and that no-nonsense expression on his face. He walked rather regally in elaborate clothing, with Lance bringing up the rear, also dressed fancily.

“How do you do, my good fellow?” Parm said, rather primly.

Moordryd started coughing in shock, dropping the brush in his hand. Decepshun gently patted his back with her tail and the coughs ceased. “Please tell me you know how to fully descibe the answer to why a manipulated substance with a certain density floats in a universal solvent added on with one certain solute,” Moordryd said.

“Why should I waste my time with such meaningless and complicated questions?” Parm huffed, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

Moordryd’s head started clouding up again, and he grasped Decepshun’s neck, bending down. “At least he have the sophisticated vocabulary,” Moordryd murmured, looking up as the blood rushed back to his head. “Er, uh, pardon my…meaningless and complicated question. I didn’t mean to be pointless. Er, just where are you heading off to?”

“Ah, well, see, I have received an invitation to her Royal Highness and Second Highly Respected and Ever-so-beautiful Princess Kitt Wonn’s Dragon Ball, and I intend to go, and perhaps impress her with my exceeding intelligence and charm.”

Lance burst out laughing. “Oh, do be quiet, cousin Lance!” Parm snapped.

“I don’t see why we have to go to this stupid Dragon Ball anyway!” Lance pouted. “I’d still rather see a joust competition, or a street fight!”

Well, at least the mini-brat seems normal enough, Moordryd though, blatantly smirking. “Yeah, well, good luck with that!” Moordryd scoffed, continuing to brush Decepshun. “I heard Princess Kitt’s very picky, and you’re probably not the best pick for her.”

The tall yet rather comical figure’s eyes seemed to flash. “We shall see,” Parm said, and there was a strange yet obvious sinister edge in his voice. Moordryd gave an umimpressed sigh as Parm and Lance walked away.

Suesie appeared on Decepshun’s saddle, only to be thrown off. “Yeah, she did that some time ago too!” Suesie whined. “Feisty, huh?”

“What’s up with the geek brat, Suesie?” Moordryd demanded. “Just why did I automatically assume that he was up to something?”

“Because you and your father and all those planning to betray you guys have that tone?” Suesie drawled. She levitated herself upwards so that she sat on the lowest roof.

“If that’s supposed to be funny, I’m not laughing,” Moordryd responded. “What’s going on, and how do we get outta here?”

“Oh, right!” Suesie said, snapping her fingers. Moordryd clenched his fists and shook his head with a groan.

“No scales, you were supposed to answer that question some time ago!” he yelled. “Well, spill it! How do we get out?”

“Oh. Well, you gotta wait until all the events in the story are tied in and are done,” Suesie said.

“Huh?” Moordryd said. He blinked. “What?”

“Hey, I don’t make up the rules, I’m just forced to follow ‘em,” Suesie said, and vanished again.

“Wait! What story? Maybe you can explain that specifically?” Moordryd cried, looking around. “Get back here, you little brat!”

A hand seemed to smack his head, causing him to stumble forward. “And enough with the pointless violence!” Moordryd seethed, rubbing his head. “Geez, I’m gonna suffer a scale-scraping haemorrhage! Hey, Artharella, I got news for you!”

“SHUT UP, PAYNN!”

“Sheesh, somebody’s crabby today…”

To Be Continued...

Chapter 3: The Twisted

“What?” Artha snapped as Moordryd walked back in.

“Well, I just met up with Suesie again,” Moordryd drawled, sitting down on one of the regally elegant red chairs. “Before that, I managed to meet up with your nerdy friend and that annoying insect you refer to as your brother.”

“Parm and Lance? Where?” Artha gasped, and Moordryd seized Artha’s arms as he tried running towards the doors, screaming, “Hey, guys, I’m in here! Help me get outta here! C’mon, help!”

“Tough luck, Artharella!” Moordryd said, gritting his teeth in frustration. He stood up, thinking it would maintain his balance. Unfortunately for him, the floor had been scrubbed and washed so much that it lost friction, and the two teenagers went flying, crashing into the doors. Beau chuckled.

Artha groaned and sat up. “What was that all about?” he said, glaring at Moordryd.

“Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope,” Moordryd muttered with a goofy grin. Artha backed away hastily. Finally the Dragon Eye leader groaned as he sat up. “Okay, your friend is not nerdy anymore, and your brother…well, your brother seems perfectly normal.”

“You mean Parm’s normal?” Artha said, his eyes widening in horror.

“No,” Moordryd said. “He’s turned suave and sophisticated.”

“That’s even worse!” Artha cried. “The words ‘suave’ and ‘sophisticated’ should never be used to describe Parmon Sean!”

“Well, guess what? They are.”

The dark-haired boy buried his face in his hands and groaned with frustration. “I’m losing it!” Artha seethed. “I am losing it!”

“Calm down, you sissy,” Moordryd said, walking away. “At least you’re not dead.”

Artha groaned and continued dusting the lamps. So, the spunky female racer Kitt was now her Royal Highness and Second Highly Respected and Ever-so-beautiful Princess Kitt Wonn, the nerdy Parm was now the suave and sophisticated Parm, and Lance, well, thankfully according to Moordryd, was just Lance. To top it off, Beau was a newt, Word was acting ridiculous, and so was Vociferous.

He didn’t feel any better when he saw Vociferous, Word and Moordryd come down the stairs with even more ridiculous outfits. “Okay, well, we’re off!” Vociferous announced happily.

“Father, can’t I wear something less…fancy?” Moordryd asked grimly, carefully selecting his words so as not to upset his alternate father.

“Absolutely not, my dear son!” Word replied primly. “These are our best clothes, and you read the letter! It said ‘wear your best and we mean best, as in best and’ – ”

“I get it!” Moordryd sighed.

“Hey, what about me?” Artha yelled.

“Didn’t we already tell you why you can’t come?” Vociferous retorted.

“Yeah, but being whatever I am is a stupid reason!” Artha snapped back. “This is a democracy!”

“Uh, no, it’s not,” Vociferous said. “It’s a monarchy.”

“Scales!” Artha muttered, throwing the feather duster on the ground. “But I’m done cleaning the scale-scraping house! You have got to let me go!”

“Oh, Artharella, quit whining! You already know that you can’t come, and that’s that!” Word snapped in frustration. Artha muttered something under his breath. “And enough of your foul language!” With that they went outside.

“I have an idea!” Artha said, snapping his head at Beau. “When they think we’re gone, I’ll do some cool martial arts skills and leap onto the dragon carriage, therefore following them unnoticed!”

Beau stared at him unimpressively. “What, you got a better plan? I’d really love to hear it!” Artha snarled indignantly, folding his arms and scowling as he sat down on one of the regally elegant red chairs.

At that moment Suesie popped up. “This is all your fault!” Artha yelled, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You caused all this trouble! You caused all this mayhem! You caused all this havoc! All this insanity! All this craziness! All this, uhh…”

“Randomity?” Suesie suggested tiredly, filing her fingers casually as she sat floating in mid-air.

“Uhh…yeah, thanks. No, wait! I’m not gonna thank you! The only thanks that your getting is the fact that I can’t go to the Dragon Ball!”

“Well, it’s still thanks, right?” Suesie said.

“That’s not – ” Artha started.

“Right?”

“But – ”

“Good. Now shut up,” Suesie said.

“You scale scraping – ”Artha cursed, shaking with impatience.

“You want me to clean that mouth of yours out with soap?” Suesie growled, shooting daggers at Artha, who flinched irritably.

“Just tell me what else I may have to put up with,” Artha groaned as Beau crawled around his arm and perched on his shoulder.

“Okay, fine, I guess I can offer you some type of sympathy…” Suesie said, and a book appeared in a puff of green smoke. She snatched the book and began flipping through the pages. “Well, let’s see…there’s something about a fairy godmother in here…”

“Fairy godmother?” Artha repeated incredulously.

“Uh…duh!” Suesie said.

“Lemme see that,” Artha muttered, reaching for the book, but Suesie quickly vanished and appeared someplace else.

“Like I’m gonna give you any spoilers,” Suesie snapped. “Besides, it’s your own fault that you’re not going to the ball.”

“Shut up,” Artha retorted flatly. “I don’t need a Dragon Ball anyway! Besides, dusting and cleaning the house is more fun! Oh, wait, I missed a spot!” He grabbed the feather duster and carefully dusted off a part of the lamp. When he turned back around, Suesie and Beau were staring at him like he was an alien. “OH SCALES, I’M TOTALLY LOSING IT!” Artha shrieked, burying his head into his hands.

“Yeah, that’s for sure,” Suesie said. “Hey, I know a few good mental institutions you can go to. Want some names?”

It was Artha’s turn to look at Suesie strangely. “Quit staring at me like that!” Suesie huffed, folding her arms.

“Oh, I wish I can go to the Dragon Ball!” Artha moaned, smiting his forehead.

All of a sudden there was an explosion of blue and gold smoke, plus some coughing as Mortis appeared. The only difference was that there were sparkly pink fairy wings on his back. “Do not wallow in sorrow, young Artharella,” the Dragon Priest said. “I shall help you!”

“What the – Mortis?” Artha cried, his eyes bulging.

Mortis scowled. “Watch your manners, my son,” he said, checking his dragon staff.

“So wait, you’re my fairy godmother?” Artha screeched.

“What did you learn in school?” Mortis snapped. “Did you learn anything at all? Why, I’m your fairy godfather, Artharella! You should not address me as Mortis! You should address me as your fairy godfather!”

“Ironic, really,” Suesie murmured with a roll of her eyes.

“What was that?” Artha retorted, glancing at her suspiciously.

“I didn’t stutter,” she replied primly. Beau scoffed, as suspicious as his human.

“Who are you talking to?” Mortis questioned.

“Suesie, the biggest scale-scraping pest in the world,” Artha snarled, turning back to Mortis.

Mortis blinked. “Can’t you see her?” Artha said, pointing to Suesie, who had slapped a hand over her mouth and was shaking with mirth.

“…you really need to get to that ball,” Mortis said, shaking his head in dismay. “I’m sure Princess Kitt would be a better choice than your imaginary girlfriend.”

“Hey, wha – no!” Artha screamed, his eyes popping wide open. “I swear! There’s this crazy, green-haired girl floating just above my head, and is apparently laughing at me right now!”

Then it hit him; Suesie couldn’t be seen by Mortis, Word, Vociferous, or any of the other shifted characters. “Oh, come on!” Artha seethed, his fists balling up as Suesie vanished. He looked upwards at the ceiling and screamed, “We’ll see who gets the last laugh!”

Mortis simply floated in the air, his wings beating being the only sound through the awkward silence. Artha flushed in embarrassment, staring at his feet silently. Finally Mortis cleared his throat and said, “Okay, now, we’ll just have to get you into some clothing less pitiful,” he said.

“I’m not mental!” Artha suddenly yelled, then stopped. “Wait, uh, why do we have to get me into some clothes that are apparently ‘less pitiful’?”

The Dragon Priest, now a fairy godfather, sighed. “Didn’t you hear me?” he exclaimed, clearly frustrated. “I’m going to get you to that Dragon Ball because I know you dearly and, I admit, pathetically, want to see Princess Kitt!”

“Really?” Artha gasped, his eyes wide open.

“Really.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“You kidding?”

“I’m not kidding.”

“You’re serious?”

“I’m serious.”

“No joke?”

“No joke.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You su – ”

“I think you get the point already!” Mortis yelled, ready to punch Artha in the nose.

“Oh, wow, totally drac!” Artha squealed, pumping his fists up in the air. “Go, Artha! Go, Artha! It’s your birthday! Uh-huh! Oh, yeah!”

Beau moaned and buried his head beneath his hands. “Why couldn’t it have been one of those bratty brothers I was supposed to help?” Mortis groaned, placing his head in his hands, his staff levitating in the air. “I mean, what in Drakkus’ sake did I do to deserve this?”

“I’m too sexy for this shirt, too sexy for this shirt, so sexy that it hurts!” Artha sang, doing a ridiculously ridiculous dance. “I’m too sexy for these pants, too sexy for these pants, too sexy for my a – ”

“Enough!” Mortis said, still covering his eyes. “Magna Draconis, boy, grow up!”

“Just one more John Travolta?” Artha begged, looking at Mortis with his finger pointed up in the air.

“NO!”

“Geez! Well, I don’t blame you,” Artha replied coolly, placing his hands behind his head. “This is only my okay moves.”

“If those are your okay moves, I don’t wanna see what your good moves are,” Mortis muttered.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t stutter,” Mortis responded as Beau grinned. “Alright, in order for you to go to the ball, you will need to have proper manners and dancing skills.”

“Oh, yeah, easy as pie!” Artha said, grinning smugly. Mortis rolled his eyes.

“You will also resist the temptation to kill, harm, or in any way harm Moordryd, Vociferous, and Word,” he added. “In fact, you are not to go anywhere near them!”

“What? What gives? Why?”

“Because…because I said so!”

“How is that a good reason?”

“Because I said so.”

“And how do you say so?”

“Because I’ll kill you if you continue asking pointless, stupid questions. What is wrong with you?”

“Must be the insanity around me,” Artha muttered. “Alright, then, let’s go shopping!”

“Why go shopping when I have magic?” Mortis said. “I can make you the most captivating man in the Dragon Ball!”

“Like I’m already not,” Artha grinned. “I’m too sexy for – ”

Beau snapped his teeth at Artha’s feet. “Hey, hey, do not go near me!” Artha warned. Beau shrugged and jumped on Mortis’ foot, clambering up on Mortis’ shoulder.

Mortis zapped a mirror in front of Artha. “Alright, now let me try that spell,” Mortis said. He cleared his throat and raised his staff dramatically, making strange hand motions. “Um…wingardium leviosa!”

“Wait, isn’t that from – ” Artha started, but there was a sudden POOF of sparkly gold smoke. Beau and Mortis coughed and watched as the smoke cleared away to reveal…

Artha wearing a puffy blue dress with fancy embroidery, gold brocade and sequins. There was also make-up on Artha’s face.

Beau fell off Mortis’ shoulder laughing. “Well?” Artha snapped, his eye twitching.

“You look rather regal in drag,” Mortis said, observing Artha.

“MORTIS!”

“Right.” He cleared his throat again and pointed his staff at Artha. “Er…efti shokra ahmenhaphus!”

“Hey, wait, that’s from – ” Artha protested again, but there was another sudden POOF of sparkly gold smoke. This time, Artha wore a blue and gold waistcoat with gold trimming, and a gold mask over his eyes. “Now this is drac,” Artha grinned. He strutted forward and fell down, one of his shoes slipping off. Artha picked up his shoe and stared at it. “Hey, wait, these are made of glass! What are you trying to do, give me bloody feet?”

“Don’t worry, they won’t break,” Mortis explained. “They’re reinforced glass.”

“But that breaks,” Artha replied.

“They’re reinforced magic glass,” Mortis added.

Artha continued staring blankly at him, then shrugged and placed on his shoe again. “These are kinda loose,” Artha remarked.

“I only had size thirteen with me. If I could, I’d zap up the right pair for you, but the rules of fairy godparent magic is complicated,” Mortis implied.

“Right,” Artha drawled, rolling his eyes. “Hey, one question. How am I gonna get there in time?”

“Oh, that! Well, I have that planned. You’ll take that newt of yours.”

“You mean Beau?” Artha said. “Uh, no offense, but if I sit on him, I’ll squish him.”

Beau slapped a paw over his forehead. “I’ll change him so that if he sits on you, then you’ll be squished,” Mortis muttered, wondering whatever happened to common sense. He pointed his finger dramatically at Beau. “Let’s see…oh! Azarath mentrion zinthos!” Mortis bellowed.

“You ripped that off of – ” Artha started, but there was another sudden POOF of black and gold smoke, and Beau stood there as the black and gold dragon yet again. He grinned smugly at Artha and Mortis.

“Shut up,” Artha muttered, glaring at Beau, who simply whacked him with his tail again.

“Now you can get out of here and go to the Dragon Ball,” Mortis said, sounding rather relieved. “I’ll stay here and have tea.”

“Well, there’s coffee in the kitchen, though when I gave it to Word, he ran off. I’m guessing that I just don’t make good coffee.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Mortis responded, zapping up a cup of tea as Artha leapt on Beau. “Oh, one more thing, and it is very, very crucial that you remember this! When the clock strikes at midnight, home you must go, for the magic will fade away if you don’t!”

“That’s it?” Artha scoffed. “That doesn’t sound so bad. By then I’ll have Kitt in my arms.”

“I highly doubt that the rest of the lethal suitors will like a princess with a dirty lackey,” Mortis pointed out.

Artha’s eyes shifted around nervously. “Oooh, I see,” Artha said. “Alright, well, I’m off! Ride, Beau!”

Beau gave a mighty roar and reared back…causing Artha to fall off his saddle. He chuckled as Artha cursed under his breath. “Okay, let’s try it again,” Artha muttered, grabbing the handle of Beau’s saddle.

At that moment Beau sped off, with Artha hanging onto one handle. “Whoa, Beau, whoa!” Artha screamed.

Suesie appeared and began pointing and laughing at him. “SHUT UP!” Artha snapped, and shrieked, ducking as a tree branch nearly snared him.

To Be Continued...

Chapter 4: The Twisty

“Are we there yet?” Moordryd joked.

Word glared at him from the front of the carriage. “I guess not,” Moordryd chuckled, quickly moving away.

“Hey, watch it, Moordryd!” Vociferous snapped, pushing Moordryd away. “This seat was only meant for one person here, you know, and I need my space.”

“Yeah, uh, what about me?” Moordryd retorted.

“What about you?” Vociferous said. “Pfft, what about you? It’s because I’m the cooler one.”

“Whatever,” Moordryd muttered, folding his arms with a huff. “In my universe, I was the cooler one.”

“Your universe ergo your imagination,” Vociferous taunted with a chuckle.

“Hey, shut up!” Moordryd snapped.

“You shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“YOU shut up!”

“BOYS!” Word roared, causing both Vociferous and Moordryd to jump (and hit their heads on the carriage top). “Must you two argue on this great privilege of ours? Why, it’s a wonder if you could all just be silent for the rest of the trip and enjoy it.”

“He started it,” Moordryd drawled, pointing a limp finger at Vociferous, who scowled and folded his arms like a little girl.

“I don’t care who started it, but it better end!” Word hissed, turning back around.

“Ha,” Moordryd whispered with a smug smile to the pinkette.

“Hey, shut up!”

“You shut up!”

“No, you – ”

“Oh, Magna Draconis, BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!” Word bellowed, spinning back around with his eyes ablaze. Moordryd and Vociferous cowered in the back as he turned around, cursing.

“Different manner, same temper,” Moordryd muttered under his breath, rubbing his head where it had collided with the carriage rooftop.

I am SO gonna kill Suesie for this.

The carriage suddenly lurched to a halt, and Moordryd and Vociferous yelped as they jerked forward, banging their heads against the seat of Word’s. “Next time learn to buckle up, you two,” Word sighed demurely as the door was opened for him. He stepped out primly. “Now let’s go, boys, we mustn’t delay your possibly future wife’s presence.”

“You mean my future wife,” Vociferous corrected smugly, nudging Moordryd out of the way. Moordryd rolled his eyes and headed towards the castle.

- - -

“Okay, I better start making my will now!” Artha squeaked, grabbing onto Beau’s saddle like there was no tomorrow. “Uh, uh, okay, to Parm! You can have my money! I know you’ll spend it better than Lance! And to Lance, I…argh! This is hard!”

Beau rolled his eyes and lurched to a halt, causing Artha’s head to hit the saddle as he was thrown forward. “Magna Draconis, Beau, what the heck was that all about?” Artha growled, then looked up to see an absolutely luxurious, tremendous, and perhaps even ridiculous, castle. “Oh. I guess, uh, we’re here.”

He slipped inside with Beau standing outside with some other dragons; probably female, as Beau put on a flirtatious face as he engaged in conversation with them.

Artha blinked as he stepped in through the gold-rimmed glass doors. It was so breathtakingly beautiful, that it was a complete cliché from the original story I ripped this off of. It would make the critics sick before they realized that this story was a parody, then get sick at the fact that the fourth wall was being broken at this exact moment, seeing that the author was busy associating author notes within the actual story.

Basically, two marble descending staircases, parallel to each other, with marble ground that perfectly reflected images of all the people there. There were marble walls covered with exquisite regal and ornate red and royal purple velvet drapes, that were trimmed with the shiniest of gold. Wax candles were ignited with flickering amber flames on golden chandeliers, that dangled with sparkling diamonds. To top it off, the people looked really…rich…with their exquisite and yet again ridiculous regalia.

Oh, there was also a huge table with gourmet food on it. And a red carpet. And as expected everything sparkled. “And I thought that mansion I had to clean was insane,” Artha gasped, his jaw nearly hitting the ground as he lowered his gold mask to make sure he was seeing things right.

“Welcome, good sir,” Cain greeted warmly as he suddenly strutted towards Artha, giving him an honest smile.

If Artha’s jaw would’ve nearly hit the ground before, it would’ve gone straight through the tall staircase and into the earth’s core at this point. Cain was wearing gold-rimmed spectacles and wearing a rich, navy blue waistcoat with a few medals over his chest. “Cain?” Artha gasped. “What are you doing here?”

The Dragon Eye narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “How did you know my name?” he asked. “And, just for the record, it’s his Royal Highness and Highly Respected Majesty’s Grand Doorman and Assistant Cain.”

Oh, right, this is a parallel universe with the wacky titles! Artha remembered. He gulped. “Uh…I have associations with the father of her Royal Highness and whatever else is in that title Princess Kitt Wonn!” he said.

“How can I be so sure of this?” asked Grand Butler Cain, still suspicious. “I mean, surely, not many know his Royal Highness and Highly Respect Majesty Budge.”

“Well – wait a minute, RACE MARSHALL BUDGE?” Artha repeated, blinking.

“No, I said his Royal – ” Cain began.

“Er, er,” Artha interjected, hoping to shut Cain up. “Er, I know he likes competition! Dragon-related competitions! I was in one of them! Yes, uh, I’m very good with dragon jousting! He should remember me!”

“Well, if you excuse me, I happen to know very much about these type of competitions as well,” Cain retorted. “How do I know you’re not some poor lackey of somebody’s who just wants in to see her Royal Highness Princess Kitt? Besides, it’s invitation only.”

“I’m under the guestbook anyway,” Artha snapped. “Look for…Sir Draconis Boosteris! Yeah, I’m in there, you know!”

Sir Draconis Boosteris? Oh, very nice pun, Artha. What in the Magna Draconis is wrong with you?

“Sir Draconis Boosteris?” Cain murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Sounds like a pretty important name.” He cleared his throat and stepped aside, swivelling his hand towards the interior. “Very well, Sir Draconis Boosteris, you may proceed!”

“Aw, totally drac!” Artha squealed, then cleared his throat as well and straightened his posture. “I mean, why, thank you good sir,” he said primly as he descended down one of the marble staircases. “Now to find Kitt.”

Unfortunately, finding Kitt amidst a crowd of very regal and ridiculously dressed royals was a lot harder than Artha figured it to be. In fact, the majority of the people inside the castle looked like people he saw everyday in his normal life, except, well, regal and ridiculously dressed.

“Boy, this is getting ridiculous,” Artha sighed, reaching to grab another tea sandwich. He looked to his side and saw Suesie also munching a tea sandwich. “Hey, wait a minute,” he said, blinking as he lowered his mask slightly. “How can you eat anything if people can’t even see you?”

Suesie just shrugged, continuing to chew on the sandwich. Artha rolled his eyes and turned around sharply, only to bump into somebody and fall down on his rear. “Ow!” he groaned, standing and looking up at the back of the figure he bumped into. “Hey, I’m really sorry about that, sir.”

“You should be,” the voice responded primly. Parm turned around to face him, polishing his monocle with a scowl. “I don’t appreciate it when individuals who are probably not taught any proper etiquette whatsoever think it’s a simple matter to bump into somebody more high-class,” he scolded, placing the monocle back over his right eye.

Artha nearly fell back down as he grabbed the edge of the table for support. “P – Pa – Pa – Parmesan?” Artha squeaked, staring open-mouthed and wide-eyed at his friend. “What are you doing here?”

The red-haired man’s eyes widened in a mixture of shock, disbelief and anger, causing Artha to immediately take a step back. “I beg your pardon!” Parm snapped, taking a step forward, once again causing Artha to repeat his previous action, thrice. “How dare you mock me by degrading my royalty to some inexpensive, cheap cheese! Who do you think I am?”

“Uhh...” Artha stammered, looking around shiftily. He turned behind him to try and find Suesie, but she was nowhere to be found. As though she’d be of any help, though. “Look, you misunderstood me, I said ‘Parmon Sean’!” the blue and black-haired teenager replied hastily, hoping this would get Parm less angry.

It seemed to make Parm just even more angry as his right eye twitched. “I should have the guards throw you out right now, you scoundrel!” he hissed, pointing a finger directly at Artha’s face. “Do you realize who exactly I am? I, in short title for your puny brain, hail from the village of Provolone, known only to many as Duke Parmon Sean. Not Parmesan, not Parmon Sean, but Duke Parmon Sean, and you will acknowledge me as such, you simpleton!”

“Simpleton? Look, Parm, I’m no simpleton!” Artha argued back, pointing a hand at himself desperately. “Remember? I’m Artha Penn, your best friend!”

“Ha! I would remember somebody as ignorant as you,” Duke Parmon Sean shot back, then paused. “Although contemplating it, I would not remember somebody as unpretentious and dull as you.”

Artha groaned and rolled his eyes. “It sounds crazy, but we’ve been transported to this out-of-this-world, alternate dimension of complete weirdness, where I’m Word’s stepson now! That means I’m Moordryd’s stepbrother!” He grabbed Duke Parm’s shoulder. “You gotta get us outta here, Professor!”

“Parm? Professor?” Parm slapped Artha’s hand away indignantly. “Honestly, the nerve of you! Why must you continue to degrade me?! If you want me to get you out of here, I can gladly inform the royal guards and his Royal Highness Budge himself to throw your sorry rear out.”

“I thought it was his Royal Highness and Highly Respect Majesty Budge,” Artha muttered.

“What was that?” Duke Parm growled, his eyes flashing dangerously.

“I didn’t stutter,” Artha responded, giving a wide, nervous grin as he reached to grab another tea sandwich, only to come up with nothing. He turned his head to look at none other than Lance, holding two or three in each hand and what looked like a dozen stuffed in his cheeks.

Lance swallowed sheepishly. “Sorry,” he said, holding out his right hand. “Would you like one?”

“Ugh! Cousin Lance, what have I told you about your manners? One sandwich at a time, and with a cup of tea!” Parm barked. He groaned and dismissed it with a hand as Duke Parmon Sean stomped away in a fit. “Honestly, children these days…”

“Cousin Lance?” Artha just repeated, blinking.

“Yeah, it isn’t the best to be relatives with such a big-head like him,” Lance sighed, munching another tea sandwich. He looked back up at Artha. “You sure you don’t want any?”

“I think I lost my appetite after that,” Artha said, staring off at the crowd of people engaged in conversation and fearing how Kitt would be if Parm was a big-head.

To Be Continued...

Chapter 5: The Twister

Moordryd nearly choked on a grape when he saw Parm talking to somebody who looked suspiciously like Artha. He tugged at Vociferous’ sleeve, still staring at who he truly believed was the stable brat. “Vociferous, isn’t that Artharella?” he asked, pointing his fork in the direction.

Vociferous scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Please, Moordryd, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all day,” he retorted. “I don’t even need to look at where you’re so rudely pointing that utensil in to know that isn’t Artharella.”

“And how do you know?” Moordryd snapped back, glaring darkly at his fellow crew rival and apparent brother. “It looks just like him!”

“First off, Artharella is at home, still polishing the rest of the house and moping pointlessly to nobody in particular,” Vociferous explained haughtily, munching an orange segment he stole off of Moordryd’s slice of cake. “Secondly, there is no way that Artharella could get into such a grand and glorious place such as this; they’d slam the doors in his face immediately!”

Moordryd paused to think about this. “I guess you’re right,” he muttered, still squinting off at the figure uncertainly though.

“Of course I’m right, I told you the same thing when you stared at that doorman who you thought was your loyal assistant or whatever,” Vociferous said, then scowled when Moordryd’s fork tackled his own as it edged near a strawberry.

Both boys looked up as Word sauntered back to their table, looking very proud of himself. “Well, what did you learn, father?” Vociferous asked, taking his fork off of Moordryd’s cake swiftly.

“Excellent news, boys,” Word exclaimed with an excited smile as he sat down and crossed his legs. “They’re about to announce the appearance of His Royal Highness and Highly Respected Majesty Budge’s daughter herself, to dance with the many suitors that have arrived here!”

Vociferous gave a gasp of delight as he dropped his fork and placed his balled-up hands up near his chest. “That is truly excellent news!” he practically squealed, fixing his clothes. “Finally, to be witness to the lovely, captivating aura of the princess herself!”

Moordryd just dropped his fork in a mix of shock and disgust. “Never do that near me again, Voicy,” he groaned, staring at Vociferous, who just frowned back, offended. The white-haired teenager looked around. “Look at all these scale-scraping men, though. And all these clearly jealous women. Exactly how does this work?”

“Simple, my dear son,” Word said, placing a hand on Moordryd’s shoulder (and causing him to flinch slightly and stare). “Her Highness will accept a dance from the suitor, and from that, she will decide.”

“So one dance is all she needs to decide who her husband is?” Moordryd replied, blinking in disbelief. “Talk about shallow.”

“Feh, you simply do not understand the finer qualities of choosing who shall join the throne, brother!” Vociferous said, also placing a hand on Moordryd’s other shoulder (causing Moordryd to narrow his eyes). “That is why you must put on your charm, your grace, your stories of grandeur, and of course, your finest dancing skills above par. You must be able to woo the princess over with just a mere look in her eyes, so that she will be dazzled and more than honoured to become your bride.”

Moordryd looked unimpressively at Word and Vociferous. “Shallow,” he repeated.

Vociferous simply shoved him lightly. “This is exactly why you have no chance of making Her Highness choose you, Moordryd,” he sighed, standing up. “You have no faith. Also, no charm, nor anything else I listed quite clearly.”

“Hey!” Moordryd shouted, stopping himself from finishing the final bite of his cake in order to stand up as well and trail after him. “Come back here and say that to my face, Vociferous!”

Word sighed, shaking his head and looking down distastefully at Moordryd’s plate. “I taught them not to waste food, and what do they do?” he murmured.

- - -

“And that’s how I saved thousands of dragons from a dragon-human war,” Artha finished proudly, taking a sip of his tea.

Lance gasped, very impressed by Artha’s tale. “That’s amazing, Sir Draconis Boosteris!” he marveled, munching on a bite of banana fondue. “I can’t believe you’ve accomplished so many things untold of!”

“Well, as an unsung hero, I gotta be modest and humble,” Artha responded coolly, fixing a fold on his sleeve.

“You got any more stories?” Lance asked, smiling wide-eyed at him. “Oooh, with your little brother as well? I like the sound of him!”

Artha grinned back, feeling very victorious that he could impress his brother this easily. “I’ll tell you the one about how I once took down a mob of orange dragons,” he started, bringing his cup to his lips.

Just then there was a very loud trumpet fanfare, causing Artha to nearly drop his cup and spill the hot liquid. “Magna Draconis, what was that?” he gasped, looking at the direction of the trumpet players (to his awe and dismay realizing it was Khatah and Wulph) in front of an elaborate throne, which was placed at the end of the red carpet and in front of three stairs leading to drawn red and royal purple, shiny gold-trimmed drapes.

“Oh, that,” Lance replied, rolling his eyes as he placed his fork down. “That’s just to announce the moment everybody here’s for in the first place. Which is pretty stupid if you ask me.”

“You know, the guards here could kick you out apparently for saying that,” Artha responded with a raised eyebrow.

Lance scoffed. “I’m a child, they’ll look past me,” he laughed. He sighed as the trumpets stopped and Khatah and Wulph placed the instruments behind their backs, stepping back and away from the throne, as Cain stepped in front of it. “They’re presenting His Royal Highness and Highly Respected Majesty Budge’s Ever-So-Beautiful Daughter and heir to the throne, Her Royal Highness and Second Highly Respected and Ever-so-beautiful Princess Kitt Wonn.”

“Presenting His Royal Highness and Highly Respected Majesty Budge’s Ever-So-Beautiful Daughter and heir to the throne, Her Royal Highness and Second Highly Respected and Ever-so-beautiful Princess Kitt Wonn!” Cain boomed, and stepped aside to bow as the majestic curtains behind the throne parted.

Artha’s lips parted, his eyes boggled, and a blush worthy of matching the carpet crept onto his face as he set his teacup down to avoid dropping it from pure enchantment.

There, standing in a magnificent, elegant, light pink, yellow, and teal silk gown, with delicately designed sparkly red and gold trim on the skirt, long light teal and pink gloves, soft pink pearls around a jeweled gold choker on her neck, as well as two diamond-shaped rubies in gold plating dangling from her ears, and a sparkling gold three-pointed tiara with a round ruby on its middle point, was Kitt Wonn.

Her Royal Highness and Second Highly Respected and Ever-so-beautiful Princess Kitt Wonn.

An audible gasp emerged from the many people in the crowd; some men fainted over in pure awe of her beauty. Artha was wondering why he hadn’t passed out either; Magna Draconis, she was beautiful! He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she walked down the steps, onto the red carpet, and looked plainly out at all the staring suitors before her.

“Lance, pinch me,” Artha breathed.

Lance happily obliged. “Ow!” the teenager seethed, rubbing his hand. “Okay, I’m not dreaming.”

“Well, I wish I was, because I wanna wake up,” the redhead groaned. He shook his head. “You can go off and try to charm Her Highness amongst thousands of other males, I’m going to go and find out what secrets lie in this castle, or what makes their food taste so good.”

Artha ignored him as he just sighed blissfully, staring off at the ever-so-beautiful Kitt. Lance rolled his eyes and walked away, stopping to steal one more loaf of bread.

- - -

The first reaction of Moordryd’s was what every other man’s reaction there was: jaw drop, eyes widen, posture slacken, and gasp.

It was soon broken by Vociferous clearing his throat rather obnoxiously. “Well, I suppose it’s time to put on the perfect charm and charm the perfect,” he murmured, his eyes glued on Kitt as he fixed his coat.

Moordryd coughed, taking his eyes away from what he admitted was definitely a far prettier side of Kitt than what he was used to seeing. “You honestly think you can charm her that quickly?” he scoffed. “At least wait for a couple of these poor losers to get shot down before you try your luck.”

Vociferous simply laughed. “Luck is on my side today, dear brother. I can feel it,” he boasted. “If I don’t act now, I can’t be there to swoop in and take the prey.” With that he pushed himself into a crowd of suitors, who were beginning to cluster and argue.

Moordryd scoffed again and turned around, only to nearly fall back into the crowd as Kitt stood right in front of him, scanning the grand room rather uninterestedly.

It was at this time that Vociferous’ words echoed in his head as a challenge, and Moordryd cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair, and approached the princess. “Pardon me, Ki – er, princess, your Highness, but this is far too cluttered a place for you to be in,” he purred.

Kitt turned to him, blinking in slight surprise. “Perhaps we can get away from the crowd for a more quieter, suitable area?” he smiled, extending a hand.

To his dismay Kitt just laughed at him as she slapped his hand away. “The bolder you are, the more chances of being rejected you’ll be,” she huffed, turning her back on him. She looked behind her coyly. “But, thanks for trying, dear sir. Use this time to learn from your mistakes.”

She walked off then, followed by the many suitors brushing past a baffled and begrudging Moordryd, who scowled and balled his fists.

Just as I thought, he mused disappointedly. She’s still a brat.

- - -

“Oh, scales! I’ve got to get in that line!” Artha said, staring dejectedly at the crowd that surrounded the presence of Kitt – ahem, Princess Kitt, who had awhile back chosen her first dancing partner and was now at her umpteenth one. “Look at all these guys! How am I supposed to be able to even say ‘hi’ if I can’t get myself in the front?”

Lance sipped a cup of fruit punch. “Well, that’s your fault for staring at her for at least five minutes straight. And in case you haven’t noticed, the duration of each dance seems to be lasting at least ten seconds. Eleven if they’re lucky,” he commented. Artha just glared at him.

Suesie also folded her arms as she floated above Artha. “Hmph, I don’t see what the big deal with this chick is,” she muttered. “I mean, look at her hair! It’s so bright!”

Artha glared back at her. “I wouldn’t say yours doesn’t make me want to change this mask to sunglasses either,” he responded. She just rolled her eyes and saluted two fingers to him.

“Who are you talking to?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My insanity,” Artha replied dryly as he turned back to look at the crowd. “Which is gonna get worse if I don’t get to see Princess Kitt! Oh, man, why didn’t I take advantage of this earlier?”

Lance was not in the mood to hear anymore people complain about themselves. So instead, he grabbed a spoon, dipped it in his cup of punch, and pulled out a very cold ice cube with a sinister grin that made Suesie immediately snicker.

“What?!” Artha snapped, turning to look at her.

It was then that he felt something extremely cold slide down his back. “Go get her!” Lance shouted as he pointed straight ahead.

“LAAAANCE!” Artha screamed, immediately running in figure eights towards the crowd. They didn’t even have time to turn around, nor would they care about it, so they were taken aback as Artha crashed through the center of the circle, bumping at least seventeen men and toppling seven, including Vociferous and who appeared to be Dorsull.

“You bumbling idiot!” Vociferous snapped, glaring up at him. “I should have the guards – ”

“Throw me out, I get it,” Artha hissed back, then blinked. “Wait. Vociferous?!”

“Don’t wear it out,” Vociferous shot back haughtily, standing up and brushing past Artha angrily. Artha cracked his knuckles, ready to go after him, but realized that Kitt was more important when he saw her reach out and grab Dorsull’s hand.

He turned to watch the two step in, just as Dorsull sneezed rather oddly. Princess Kitt sighed and spun him back into the crowd. “Next,” she said.

Artha suddenly found himself losing balance to the knees, just to have Parm reappear out of the crowd and shove him roughly, causing him to fall. “That would be I, your Highness,” he responded smoothly, his gold eyes sly and an eyebrow raised. “I hope I don’t dazzle you too much, I wouldn’t want my good looks and handsome exterior to put aside the wonderful person that I am – ”

It was Princess Kitt’s turn to push him aside, to Parm’s complete and utter shock. “No, wait!” she protested.

To Be Continued...

Chapter 6: The...Twistyness?

Artha groaned and sat up, holding a hand to his dazed head. “Scales…” he murmured, and opened his eyes groggily, just in time to see a pink-gloved hand extended openly in front of his face.

Blinking, he looked up to see none other than Princess Kitt herself, her face painted with genuine concern. “Are you alright, sir?” she asked.

All he could do was stare back. He raised a finger and fixed the mask on his face, then opened his mouth to try and respond. “I…I…I…” he mumbled, flushing in embarrassment as he heard snickers and snorts from the crowd.

But instead of laughing along with them, he had the pleasure of suddenly seeing the concern wash away in place of a smile. “Come,” Princess Kitt said, grabbing his hand. There was a twinkle in her green eyes as she helped him stand up. “Let’s dance.”

Artha as well as the suitors around her had their jaws slacken as she pulled him into the center of the circle, and danced with him. “Bu – but…I…I…” he stuttered, still at a loss for words.

Her laugh ricocheted in his ears like the twinkle of bells, and he found his heart pounding faster than it already was. “Relax,” Princess Kitt said, and gave a coy smirk. “I won’t bite. What’s your name?”

All of a sudden Suesie floated next to him and whispered in his ear. “Artharella,” he responded woozily, then shook his head and gasped as Suesie disappeared immediately with a giggle. “Wait, no, NO!”

Kitt chuckled and looked away briefly. “How...manly of a name, Sir Artharella,” she stated. Artha opened his mouth to protest, but she placed a finger on his lips with a hush from her own. “So, are you going to lead, or will I have to be leading for you?”

Artha blinked. “Er, well, the thing is, I came – uh, unprepared, a – and I’m really in shock right now, and – ” he stammered. He gulped as he suddenly saw Duke Parmon Sean glare at him furiously, before storming off with a grinning Lance. He noticed the other suitors whispering and muttering amongst themselves too, some even shaking their heads in disappointment and dismay as they walked away. “Uh, I don’t think I’m very liked right now anyway…”

She twirled him, and he almost fell down again. As she pulled him back, she rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “What matters is that I like you quite a bit, Sir Artharella.”

If not for the fact his back was cold and his rear was sore from falling, Artha would have swooned. If only Kitt fell for him this easily back then.

Wait, when I was the Dragon Booster she did, he remembered, pursing his lips. So why exactly doesn’t she still treat me like she did then? Girls sometimes. Well, if that’s the case, I can’t let her know I’m some servant boy here.

“Gee, these suitors are leaving pretty early,” Artha murmured, looking back at how much the population inside the room decreased.

“Early?” Princess Kitt echoed. “Well, I suppose you’re right. They are leaving pretty early, even though I would expect them to stay past midnight, as these type of occasions usually go.”

“Yeah,” Artha murmured, staring off into her eyes again, then froze. “Wait. Midnight?”

Princess Kitt stopped as well. “Yes, midnight,” she said. She glanced towards a large clock. “It just struck midnight a few seconds ago.”

“Oh, really?” Artha acknowledged. He grinned. Huh, if that’s the case, then I guess Mortis’ spell is working better than he said it would, he said mentally. Looks like my earlier plan doesn’t need to be put in action.

She sighed, fixing her tiara, then paused. “Sir Artharella, I hate to be a bother, but why are you sparkling?” she asked.

“Huh?” Artha said, then looked down at himself. He nearly shrieked as he saw sparkles falling off from his clothes and the gold on his attire begin to glow. “Oh, scales!” he cried.He looked around to check where Moordryd, Vociferous, and Word were, only to find out they were talking to Cain right near the doors. “Oh, double scales! Um, I gotta go!”

“What?” Princess Kitt asked, raising her eyebrows as she stepped back. She lowered them as she placed a hand on her hip and looked at him suspiciously. “What seems to be the problem, Sir Artharella?” she asked. “A princess not enough for you?”

“No, I just realized I, uh, have to get back home because I, uh…” Artha stuttered, trying very quickly to find an excuse. He snapped his fingers. “Oh! I left the stove on!”

“But that’s your servant worker’s job to turn it off, isn’t it?” she replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, uh, er, I don’t believe in slave labour!” Artha finished hastily. He grasped Kitt’s hand. “Please believe me when I say I am not trying to avoid you in any way whatsoever, in fact, I do believe you’re the most beautiful and dracest woman in this universe and mine,” he said very, very quickly.

“Wait!” she cried, quickly snagging his arm. Artha gulped, more sparkles falling off by the minute as he turned to see her wide-eyed face. “At least tell me where you live, Sir Artharella, so I may find you, or at least…let me see who you really are!” she said, and reached for his mask.

At that moment he felt eyes on him, and glimpsed Moordryd and Vociferous looking down at him rather inconspicuously. “Sorry can’t do I love you goodbye!” he blabbered, and quickly kissed her cheek before bolting up the stairs, almost tripping on one of his glass shoes.

With a curse, he slipped his foot out of it. At this point, he couldn’t care less about having only one shoe as he continued bolting up the stairs, past Moordryd, Vociferous and Word, and out the doors in time to be magged by an already-running Beau.

“Ugh, he almost ran into me again!” Vociferous growled, poking his head out the door along with Moordryd. “That stupid ingrate has no consideration for his fellow competitors!”

Moordryd opened his mouth to comment on the sudden flash of light that emitted from that man and his dragon, then instead chose to comment on Vociferous’ words. “Would you show him any consideration?”

“Brother, we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about this fool,” Vociferous rebutted, shooting him a dirty look.

Moordryd just rolled his eyes as Word, disgusted that neither of his sons charmed Princess Kitt, brushed by them briskly. “Well, maybe we should stop focusing on this fool and focus more on how you disappointed me,” he growled, stepping back into the front of their carriage.

“But, father – ” Vociferous and Moordryd protested, each raising a finger.

“No BUTS!” Word hissed, and slammed the door in his two sons’ faces.

Moordryd sighed and shook his head. “I knew it was too good to be true,” he said dejectedly as Vociferous sniffed and stepped into the back of the carriage.

- - -

Meanwhile, inside the castle, Kitt sat in the throne, also dejected and very depressed. She sighed sadly as she stared at the only memory of the man she had chosen that night: a glass shoe.

When that man – Sir Artharella – had left, the suitors had grown hope, and she decided to dance with them, but of course, each dance had no meaning as much as that dance with Sir Artharella had. Eventually, the suitors picked up on this, and gave up on dancing with her. Instead, the women that had attended had the chance of finding men that they have long searched for, and many were going home with somebody in their arms.

Except for the princess. The irony was almost beyond insulting, since today was her day to find her prince and she had came so close, yet have fallen so far away. That mere thought made her even more depressed as she gave another sigh and fondled the shoe absentmindedly in her hands.

The doorman, Cain, approached the throne and bowed. “Your Highness,” he acknowledged. “I don’t think your father will be very pleased to see you this unhappy, without a man you’d like to call your prince.”

She gave yet another sigh. “I thought I have finally found him, Cain,” she said gravely, looking up at him. “My prince, my other half, my significant other! The one I was destined to be with! And…and he just left me.” She lowered her head. “Just like that.”

“Rather disgraceful, don’t you think,” Cain replied with a scowl. “And here I thought Sir Draconis Boosteris would be an honest man, if not well-dressed.”

Kitt blinked. Sir Draconis Boosteris? Well, he’s certainly making it difficult for me to have a true opinion on him if he’s using aliases. I should have known from how ridiculous ‘Artharella’ sounded, she thought grimly, slumping again as she stared at the shoe, ignoring Cain ranting on about how gentlemen should act towards royalty and how he could have the man’s head for this. Such a handsome yet mysterious man. I wonder how I will ever find him again…

Wait, find him? That’s it!

Kitt suddenly stood up, shoe grasped in her hand. “Cain,” she said, her eyes narrowed fiercely in sudden determination.

Cain looked up. “Eh, Highness?” he replied, blinking. “What is it?”

She held out the shoe in her hands. “This is what’s it,” she exclaimed firmly, to Cain’s confusion. “This shoe is what’s it. Clearly, a man who has shoes made out of reinforced glass must have them specially designed for himself and only himself.”

“I…suppose…” the man responded hesitantly, not exactly sure where she was going with this.

“Do you realize what this means?”

“Forgive me deeply, Your Highness, but I do not. But…it seems like you have a plan, from that look in your eyes.”

And indeed the look in her eyes was strong as she stepped down the carpeted hall, shoe in hands delicately. “Indeed I do, dear Cain, and I will explain it to you,” she announced. She looked back at him. “But first, I will need assistance for this plan to carry out. Fetch me Rancydd this instant.”

“Yes, Your Highness!” Cain barked back dutifully, standing at attention and saluting her, before running off to find his Royal Highness and Highly Respected Majesty’s Grand Advisor.

Kitt sighed again, but this time, it was one of hope. “Whether your title be Sir Draconis Boosteris, or Sir Artharella, it does not matter,” she said softly, staring down at the shoe. “I will find you, and find out what lies underneath your mask of mystery, my future prince.”

She didn’t even notice the rather lanky figure that swiftly darted from behind the throne out the doors.

- - -

It was Moordryd who first slammed the doors open to their mansion. He saw Artha standing there, tatty rags, apron, and mop in hand with a bucket of soapy water next to him, as well as his red and blue newt of a dragon perched on his head.

Artha grinned at him. “Welcome back, Moordryd,” he squeaked. “How was the Dragon Ball that you guys did not let me attend that I absolutely do not at all hate or resent you for?”

Moordryd narrowed his brow, then folded his arms and looked away thoughtfully. “Well…to tell you the truth, it was fantastic,” he responded, giving a smug smile. “Guess who managed to become the princess’ knight in shining armour.”

It was a test. If Artha was really there, he would know that Moordryd did not get to even dance with Kitt Wonn. If he hadn’t gone to the ball, then he would assume that Moordryd was referring to himself.

Artha scoffed, grin completely gone as he looked back at the floor. “Certainly not you,” he responded.

Moordryd’s eye twitched in realization of the flaw in his test, just as Vociferous and Word walked in rather stiffly as well. “Oh, welcome back, very kind and caring stepfather and brother!” Artha piped up, the wide grin from before re-plastered to his face while Beau jumped off him and clambered onto a plant. “I take it you enjoyed the Dragon Ball even though you did not let me go no matter how much I begged and cried for you to let me go?”

“Oh, stuff it, Artharella,” Vociferous hissed, shoving him aside and causing Artha to slip on the mop and fall to the ground with a pained groan. “We don’t need your sarcasm or whining at all right now! We need you preparing the beds, and that’s it.”

“How will I walk up those stairs with a broken leg…” Artha seethed, rolling over in pain while Moordryd simply smirked down at him.

“Enough of your complaining, Artharella!” Word snapped, pointing a clawed finger at him. “You will do as Vociferous says, crawl upstairs if you need to, and prepare the beds for a rest that should not be well-deserved.” With that he huffed and walked towards the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.

“Well, too bad, so sad,” Artha murmured, sitting up and looking at Moordryd and Vociferous with a faint smile. “Maybe you’ll get a chance some time in the future to woo some other princess.”

“She’s an only child,” Vociferous muttered.

“Oh, then…sucks to be you!” Artha responded with a wickedly happy grin, only for Vociferous to yell in anger and throw the mop at his head before storming off into the kitchen as well.

Moordryd shifted his eyes towards Artha. “And just why are you so happy all of a sudden, servant brat?” he accused.

Artha tilted his head, as though it was obvious. “You guys never got Kitt,” the dark-haired teenager said. He blinked, and then looked around uneasily. “Oh, uh, wait! Scales! Please tell me nobody got Kitt!”

“This one lucky loser did, like one dance,” Moordryd said. “But, well, he duped her. He looked kinda like you actually.”

“Well, looks like Kitt goes for looks,” Artha boasted proudly.

In response, Moordryd simply shoved the mop back at him. “Make the beds, Artharella,” he sneered as he too, walked into the kitchen.

Artha glared at him, before smirking as he looked at Beau. “Well, I had fun today,” he said, setting the mop against the banister. “How about you, boy?”

Beau grinned and nodded, seeming quite pleased with himself. “Man, too bad I can’t see Kitt again…” Artha sighed, looking down glumly. He looked back up. “But hey, who knows? Maybe, maybe I captivated her so much that she’s looking for me right now!”

Beau snorted back in return. “Well, a guy can dream, can he?” Artha shot back, shrugging. “I mean, come on, if it doesn't happen, you totally have to lay off the Draconee-Yum bars when we get back.”

- - -

The next day Beau was happier than the day before, and wanted to get back to their Dragon City as fast as possible. It meant more Draconee-Yum bars for him.

“No way,” Artha gasped for what seemed like the hundredth time, gawking at Moordryd, Vociferous, and Word crowded around a scroll of paper. “I don’t believe it.”

“Well, believe it, Artharella!” Moordryd groaned, getting fed up of Artha’s repetition. He snatched the scroll back out of Vociferous’ hands. “See, I’ll read it again! ‘Her Royal Highness and Second Highly Respected and Ever-so-beautiful Princess Kitt Wonn will be going to each house of each attendant of the previous Dragon Ball in order to see which sir’s foot fits this shoe.’”

He spun the scroll around to show Artha not the large amount of fancy draconian lettering, but the picture at the bottom of the text, which depicted a glass shoe.

The same glass shoe he had left yesterday at the castle of the Dragon Ball.

Artha nearly fell facefirst into the laundry basket he had set down, but instead, Word had chosen to shove him aside into the linen closet. “Do you realize what this means?” he said, taking Artha’s place (and ignoring Artha’s pained groans as well as a dozen folded towels falling on his head).

Moordryd looked up with his brow slightly arched from the right. “Do tell us, please,” he drawled, while Vociferous also looked up in curiosity.

“Why, that gives you two a second chance at wooing her Royal Highness and Second Highly Respected and Ever-so-beautiful Kitt Wonn!” Word explained dramatically as he flourished his clawed hand to the ceilings. “This is quite the opportunity and the lucky straw drawn. Good fortune is upon us!”

“Father, I hate to disagree, but her Royal Highness Brat Wonn is going to go around this land today as we speak and isn’t gonna get here until the last moment,” Moordryd responded, rolling up the scroll and placing it in Vociferous’ hands“By then, I’m pretty sure somebody with the same shoe size would have gotten that thing on their feet, and then our chances are ruined!”

“I hate to admit it, but Moordryd is correct, father,” Vociferous added, stepping forward and tossing the scroll away (which smacked Artha right in the face as he was standing up, causing him to fall back into the linen closet with more towels falling down on him). “It’s no conundrum that two feet can be the same size.”

“You fail to see any light in this situation, my sons,” Word responded, sauntering next to them and placing two hands on their shoulders. He looked at each sympathetically. “I understand after earlier happenings today that your spirits may be diminished, but do remember to think. First and foremost, the shoe is made of glass.” He smirked. “Do you know what that means?”

“That the person who wore those shoes is a bigger idiot than what he presented himself to be at the ball?” Moordryd retorted, causing Vociferous to snicker briefly.

Word narrowed his eyes. “No, Moordryd, it means that it is specifically meant for one person only, and that is ‘the idiot’ himself,” the senior Paynn responded, releasing his grip from his two sons’ shoulders. “That means it will only fit his feet, and no one else but his.”

“But, doesn’t that mean it’s futile since our feet most likely won’t fit?” Vociferous asked.

“That is where you two must come into the plan.” Word spun around, his face clearly depicting the triumph of plotting out a perfectly planned scheme. “You must manage to charm the Ever-so-beautiful Princess Kitt Wonn so smoothly, so flawlessly, and so devilishly, that by the time you decide to finish it off…”

He gave a small chuckle as he picked up the scroll and unraveled it to depict the shoe. “She will not even care about finding the one who holds the shoe,” Word finished sinisterly, promptly tearing that part of the scroll off to make his point, then tossing both sides behind him. He glared towards the linen closet. “Now, Artharella, after you have finished cleaning up that mess of yours, and these pieces of paper, I want you to prepare our finest clothes immediately, so get to that laundry.”

The pile of towels gave a muffled cry. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Word responded, and walked up the stairs, along with Vociferous. Moordryd was about to follow them, but used one last opportunity to take Artha’s laundry basket, flip the basket upside down on Artha, before dropping it on the top of the pile and walking upstairs rather satisfied as he dusted his hands off.

Artha finally dug out of the pile, sputtering and flailing his arms briefly as he glared around to find Moordryd, to no avail. “Beau, we’ve GOT to stop them!” he gasped, instead turning towards his dragon-slash-newt.

Beau nodded in firm approval. The faster they stopped Word’s sinister plan here, the faster they could stop Word’s sinister plan back home.

The irony of this statement caused the newt to tilt his head to the side in realization, so he reconsidered his thoughts. The faster they stopped Word’s sinister plan here, the faster he could eat a pile of Draconee-Yum bars back home.

To Be Continued...

:D This is hilarious, I'm glad you added some more chapters. I think I remember reading this a while ago on FF.net. I love how you portrayed everyone in this alternate universe. Cain is the doorman and Budge is Kitt's father? :D Keep it up! I hope you update soon!

Please continue! :D I love this story! I read it on Fanfiction and loved it!