Breakfast: The Most Important Meal of the Day

It's difficult to properly maintain a scowl while simultaneously stuffing yourself with the single most scrumptious breakfast spread you've ever been given access too, you're discovering. Still, you do your level best to make sure that everyone within twenty feet gets a full dose of the stink eye even as you gorge on the luxurious meal.

It's an extravagant affair, especially considering it seems to have been prepared exclusively for you, your would-be Prince, and the old man who is clearly your Vizier or Minister or some shit. He's weathered but hardy looking, his face all angles and pointed nose with a drooping white mustache that he carefully avoids dragging through his simple bowl of oatmeal. You're almost inclined to say he has a kindly look about him, but seeing as the Evil Chancellor page on TV Tropes runs like twenty fucking scrolls deep your choice to keep your sword propped up like a warning sign between your chair and his is anything but accidental.

As for Prince Loveday, well, he's been picking at the same half of grapefruit for like ten minutes and hasn't stopped for a breath in that entire time and you hate him more than ever. Which is a goddamn shame, because if he wasn't such an unbearable ponce he'd be really goddamn hot. If his mouth was taped shut or something you definitely wouldn't mind crawling on top of him and...

It's only through sheer iron will that you don't **** on your mouthful as the full ramifications of your idle fantasy strike you. It's official: you swing both ways now. Add that to the fucking list of reasons for hunting down Fate's office, kicking in the door and making him/her/them/whatever swallow a mouthful of their own teeth. Your newfound appreciation for The Dong is admittedly pretty low on the list of Messed Up Shit that's happened to you? But seriously. This noise is fucking exhausting. You're entirely scowled-out. For now, it's all you can do to lean back in your seat and wearily run your hands through your hair. This has been a goddamn trying morning.

Unfortunately, Prince Who Fucking Cares seems to take that as a response to whatever it is he's been babbling about, prompting him to lean forward and start aiming his unending blathering directly towards you. "Ah, are you concerned about the tournament, then? You have my assurances, Princess, you don't need to worry about some unworthy man claiming victory! I swore and will swear anew that-"

You don't bother waiting for a break in his monologue, simply leaning forward and speaking directly over the garrulous man. "What tournament?"

Your chancellor pipes in. "Your birthday tournament, Highness? I must say, we expected knights and princes from far and wide but the turnout has been staggering even so."

Oh good, you're finding the wherewithal to scowl once again. "I don't want a goddamn tournament."

The old man blanches a bit at that. "It was the final wish of the King and Queen, your Highness."

He indicates towards the portrait hanging on the wall behind you of a gorgeous blonde queen and her suave-looking stud of a king. You have to admit you're a dead ringer for the woman, from her sultry features to the unmistakable bulge at the groin level of her dress. It looks like she was pretty much your match as far as a dick-measuring contest goes, but you note with a touch of smugness that instantly sinks into irritation that you've definitely got bigger boobs. "I don't know those people."

The chancellor apparently doesn't grasp your meaning, as he simply nods and wipes away a tear. Fucking seriously? "Yes, my dear Princess, they were taken from you at such a very young age. Oh, how it broke my heart to think of you alone and without family for those long years! It weighed heavily on the hearts of your parents as well, which is why they left the decree in their will for this very tournament."

Let the scowling intensify. "How the fuck is a tournament supposed to fix that?"

Prince Shitting From His Mouth breaks in at that, a bit taken aback that so long has past without him having gotten to say anything. "Ah, because the tournament is for your hand of course!"

What. "What."

Prince Doesn't Recognize **** When it's Scowling at Him nods merrily. "Just think: before the week is out you'll be a woman wed! Are you excited by the idea, Princess? Nervous? Elated?"

Oh Jesus Fucking Christ. You burst furiously to your feet. "Try fucking pissed! So a bunch of strange dudes are going to hit each other with sticks, and whichever moron winds up on top of the pile of broken dudes and broken sticks wins me?!"

The chancellor has the grace to at least look a bit sheepish, coughing into his hand, but Prince Will Soon Deepthroat a Sword just gives you a big thumbs up. "You got it! But again, don't give the matter a second thought! I've taken stock of the field that's gathered and not a man among them is my equal. You and I shall finally be together, just as Fate always intended."

Fucking Fate. You've got your sword an inch out of its sheath before the chancellor speaks up. "Though of course, there are always mystery knights."

Wait. Mystery Knights?

The Prince Who Is Hated waves his hand dismissively. "Oh, please. I'm not worried about any knight who won't face their foe bearing their true name and face. No real warrior would deny themselves the chance for glory, so it stands that only knaves and weaklings or someone who had no right to compete would stoop so low as to hide behind a mask." The chancellor nods in agreement, though Prince Rent Butthole barely stops to notice before lurching onto his next thought. "Why, there are even rumors that women have entered tournaments as Mystery Knights before! Have you ever heard anything so silly? All knights must prove their manhood before entering a tournament after all; how do they expect no one to notice that they are lacking a lance?"

You release the grip on your hilt as you sink back into your seat and deeply into thought at that. Mystery Knights, huh. So it's possible to enter a tournament with a disguised identity? And all one would have to do is flash a bit of dick? It sounds like you might have a chance here to...

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

No, no, no, fucking no.

Prince You're Completely Over This Shit can only stammer his way into silence when you slam your hands down on the table, sending silverware clattering to the floor. "Let me be super clear for a second. I am not going to enter this stupid tournament, and I am not going to compete for my own goddamn hand."

The Prince stares wide-eyed at you, at a loss for words for the first time in your not-brief-enough acquaintance. "Um....what?"

"You heard me. That's the fucking plot of Brave. I'm not going to Disney Movie this bullshit, okay?"

The prince frowns, perhaps involuntarily. "I don't know what that means."

You lean forward, too fired up to care that you're presenting an egregiously inviting display of cleavage to everyone around you. "It means if you want to fight with your stupid friends, go right ahead. But you're going to have to find a new prize, because all this-" you straighten up, popping a hip to one side and running your hands down either side of your perfect body, "-is not up for grabs."

Prince Still Not Getting It opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to find his words and looking quite a lot like a fish in the process. "But...if you aren't going to compete, how am I supposed to learn a lesson about your value?"

Oh, so he DOES fucking get whats going on. You let out an exasperated sigh. "Not my problem, dude! Why do you even want me so bad? I get that I'm hot as fuck, but you get that you aren't dealing with your average Princess over here, right?"

You reach down with both hands to demonstrate your point, taking two big handfuls of your bountiful crotch and waggling yourself in Prince Apparently a Moron's direction. To your surprise, however, he looks down at your prodigious groin without so much as a flinch. "What, is that the issue here? That doesn't bother me, if that's what's gotten you so riled up?"

...Huh. You were not expecting that. Well you still aren't going to go along with this, but you grudgingly have to give Loveday a bit of credit. That's actually pretty open-minded.

The prince smiles, looking relived to have gotten to the bottom of everything as he continues on. "After all, I have the best cosmetic enchanter in the realm on staff. We can get that ensorcelled right off, no problem at all!"

You very much ungrudgingly retract that bit of credit. You stare down at Prince Not Even Worth an Insulting Nickname for a moment, then raise your voice towards the hulking guards who stand silently at the doorway of the dining hall. "Drag this person out of my sight this very moment and dump him into the biggest puddle of mud you can find."

The prince starts to say something, but is immediately cut off when to his intense surprise the massive guards grab him by his arms, wrench him out of his seat, and roughly dragging him out of your sight. You have to left out a huff of indignant satisfaction as you plop down into your chair, your chest wobbling majestically as you help yourself to another bite of muffin, close your eyes, and chew until you've started to calm down a bit. If that motherfucker thinks he can get a wizard anywhere near your dick, he's got another think coming.

By the time your chancellor finds the courage to speak up, he is fortunate indeed that your attempts to calm down have been mostly successful. "So, er....the tournament is off, then?"

You shoot him some side eye, prompting the old man to flinch. "Yes. It is very much off."

He collapses in on himself a bit, but has the fortitude to respond even as he visibly submits. "I just....your parents would worry, is all. About you not finding someone. I worry about that. They always had each other, but what about you?"

You have to sigh. "And what, the best way to find me someone is a fucking Battle Royale?"

"It's just...it's the way this is done. Your parents-"

You cut him off, standing up and striding over towards the portrait of the king and queen. "Yeah yeah yeah, you want to know why my 'parents' apparently worked out so well?"

Your chancellor nods, and you point a finger towards the king's face. "They worked out because those are dick sucking lips if I have ever seen them." The old man can't help turning red at that, coughing in embarrassment as you press him further. "Tell me: was this tournament going to be a dick sucking tournament?"

"Um..........no?"

"Oh! Well, too bad. Wouldn't have worked out anyway, then." You walk back over to your seat, but only long enough to grab your sword. "Seriously though, don't worry about me. I've got a feeling that I can take care of myself from here on out."

The chancellor straightens in his chair. "Princess?"

You're about to just up and walk away without another word when a thought stops you. "Actually, wait a second." You throw an accusing finger out towards the old man, raising your voice as you shout a question out at him. "Are you an evil chancellor?! Answer quick, go go go!!"

The man all but falls out of his seat in surprise at your outburst, answering in the middle of such a state of shock that you're confident he's telling the truth. "No?!"

You nod at that, reaching down to help your chancellor up. "Okay cool. Now that we have that cleared up, I want you to take me to the treasury. The vault. The fucking bank, I don't know. Wherever we keep all the money."

He stares up at you for a bewildered moment, then simply gives a shrug of utter surrender and motions for you to follow him.

You have the definite sense that the faster you can get gone the better, but even still the urge to ogle and drool over the seemingly endless trove of glittering treasure that the old man led you to is pretty damn strong. Keep your head in the game, goddamn it. You gesture out towards the vast treasury, glancing down towards your chancellor. "All of this seriously belongs to me?"

The chancellor nods. "Well, to the crown. Which is you, as it were."

"How could we possibly need all of this?"

The chancellor purses his lips a little. "There are a lot of expenses intrinsic to running a kingdom and maintaining a court, your Highness! Why, the tournament alone will set the crown back-"

You cut him off. "Yeah sure, but that's cancelled. In fact, how much of our expenses are strictly related to dumb prince and princess bullshit?"

The chancellor stares at you, first in confusion but after a moment you get the distinct impression that he's mentally adding up some truly immense figures. ".....maybe eighty percent?"

"For real? Eight Fucking Percent?"

"Maybe more?"

You shake your head, unable to keep yourself from rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all. "Well okay, look. Here's what's going to happen. As of right now, I'm done with all this princess stuff. I am straight up out." You cut off the protesting chancellor with a wave of your hand. "Don't even bother complaining, old man. I'm starting to get the shape of things around here, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be more than capable out there on my own."

"But, but-! The realm needs its princess!"

"Does it really?! If you can tell me one thing I actually do that affects the running of this country, then I will go back and immediately marry the first dunce to ride in with his helmet on the right way." The chancellor blinks at you for a few moments, which is more than the response you need. "Exactly. So I'm leaving, and you're going going to keep running things."

The chancellor gasps at that, starting to protest before you clap him on the shoulders. "Oh don't be like that! You already do the job so you might as well keep doing it without being bothered by shit like tournaments. Say, do we have a Bill of Rights?"

"A what?"

"Right, didn't think so. Well figure one out and then put it into place. But hey! Your job, not mine." You turn your attention back towards the horde of gold, not giving the stunned chancellor much of a chance to process this turn of fortunes. "So! How much of this gold would I need to be covered? Like, forever. Financially speaking."

The chancellor has apparently learned to just go along with whatever comes out of your mouth, because rather than questioning or pushing back he simply picks up a modestly sized knapsack and drags it through a pile of thick gold coins, nearly filling it before handing it to you. You offer him a radiant smile as you shoulder the bag. "Dope. Well okay then, I'm off! I'll write if I decide, you know, that I want to!"

You turn and start off, smirking in self-satisfaction to yourself as the chancellor waves you a still-quite-confused goodbye. You were seriously going to just barge out of the castle with a sword and a prayer for a moment there, weren't you? You were going to slap on a mask and play right into Fate's hand, thinking you were being clever when all you were doing was giving Prince Forgotten His Face Already some vomit-inducing moment to learn about your "value". That's the sort of half-cocked thinking that ends up with a warlock casting spells straight at your goddamn genitals. Well fuck him. And fuck Fate, too. You're for real whole-cocking this shit.