Oh Shit, is There Actually a Princess in This Story?!

You're pleased by what you see in the bustling village that surrounds the castle, the towering spire popping out of the prosperous township in a way that reminds you of a big thumbs up. Then Roan remarks that it looks like an erection. So now it reminds you of an erection. So that's getting off on the best foot; hopefully you'll make it through being introduced to the princess without accidentally referring to her as "The Lady of Boner Castle".

Though at this point, you'd frankly settle for making it to Boner Castle at all. You were right to be suspicious of your devious valet, who apparently possesses a preternatural sense of which women in her general vicinity require a proper seeing to. If you didn't know better, you'd think she came through secretly and took note of all of her desired marks weeks ago. Wait, why do you think you know better? You never know better; she probably DID do that! She is just awful, and you're increasingly convinced she's the woman of your dreams.

It always starts off in a manner Roan presumably imagines is casual, though you have to say she is one of the worst actors you have ever seen. You pass by a haberdashery, and she loudly proclaims that Oh, she should certainly get a nicer hat for meeting the princess! And who could have guessed it, the shop is run by a pert thing with inky black ringlets and the most charming dimples you've ever seen. And sure enough, now Roan is wearing nothing but a cap with an enormous feather in it as she gasps and moans shoulder to shoulder with the hat shop girl, your powerful arms encircling their hips as you alternate thrusts into their quivering depths.

Roan breezily bets you that the guard with the short red hair is hiding a killer rack beneath her armor, and despite not disagreeing or even taking the bet sure enough, there you are: the guard propped up in Roan's lap as you hump against one another, your valet gleefully playing with her admittedly quite impressive tits.

What's that Roan? Yes, you do like cheese. Why are you waving over that milkmaid? Yes, she does have a spectacular bottom. Oh okay; you're taking her from behind while she eats out your knocked up lover, who would have more success in winking salaciously at you if she could stop moaning and orgasming.

And so when you finally reach the castle, guards who are only surprised to see you for a split second quickly throwing open its grand gate, you are a little tired and quite disheveled. Roan releases her grip on your toned butt, pulls you down for a quick kiss that the guards politely ignore, and flounces in ahead of you to mingle with the other heralds. You quickly realize you must be late, because you recognize the backs of the princes from the inn lined up in a semicircle around the tall golden throne further ahead. Are they already meeting with the princess? Goddamn Roan and her sexy distractions!

You quickly move forward, your long stride allowing you to clear the distance before any of the princes besides Beardy has the presence of mind to look around at whoever is approaching. He balks when he sees you, then immediately adopts a nasty grin.

"Honest to fuck, did you walk all the way here? You look like complete shit; have you hicks not gotten around to inventing laundry yet? Did you stop to throw yourself into a bunch of puddles before your reception; is that the custom in Elbowfuck or wherever?"

Prick doesn't know the half of it. The other princes titter nervously, but quickly move aside when you ignore Beardy and shoulder your way into their line. To your surprise, they aren't even meeting with the princess. Rather, they seem to be holding court with a man so short and so fat that he's practically a cube. The matter isn't helped by the shapeless and hugely overflowing robe he wears, it's actually hard to tell if he even has arms and legs. He's given you some assistance with his face, a wispy blonde line of hair helpfully marking that this area is meant to be his chin and an equally wispy ring of hair marking that this area is the top of his head.

Piggy little eyes blink admonishingly at you from the folds of his face as he addresses your sudden arrival in a surprisingly deep, cultured voice. "You are late."

You nod, but when you don't seem prepared to make any further efforts on the matter the man sniffs and shifts a bit of his robe. Oh look, a plumpy little hand came out; that must be his arm. Because honestly, if instead shit had poured out, you would have been just as ready to accept that oh, that must be his butthole. You realize halfway through reaching out that he probably intended for you to kiss his hand. Oh well. He's visibly askance as you close your massive hand around his little blob of a hand and try to give it shake without ripping his arm clean off. Oh gross, it feels a super ripe tomato. Does this guy, like, have bones?

The man recoils back, wiping his hand off on the sour looking guard next to him before it disappears back into his non-euclidean robes. "Well then. Well then indeed." The other princes are snickering again as the man gives a dismissive sniff. "I must say, highly irregular. Highly, highly. Tardiness? Hand Shakes?" Did he really just pronounce it like that? You think he shakes his head in disapproval (maybe?) as he gives a *tut-tut*. "I must say, these other fine gentlemen have already made quite compelling offers, quite compelling indeed. The princess is on her way to be shown her suitors now; why should you be among them, why indeed? Why should I even deign to consider any offer you might make? Such as it surely would be."

Good question? You've got a question of your own. "Who are you supposed to be?"

The man sputters, face turning beet red as the other princes mutter in shock at your bluntness. "I, who am-! I, sir, young sir, am Lord Regent Haverly Prandish."

You stare at the man blankly and he sputters even more forcefully, quite soaking the now even sourer looking guard in slobber. "I, how dare, I am the lord and liege, the LORD and LIEGE of this-"

You cut in. "So you're the regent."

Prandish wobbles angrily. Is he shaking his arms at you, or is he trying to kick you? "Yes, you oafish, backwater, POORLY DRESSED-!"

"Why does the princess need a regent?"

The Lord Regent's sputtering cuts off, though his furious shaking continues on for quite some time, undoubtedly due to inertia. He coughs. "I...*ahem*. By order of the dearly departed King and Queen of these lands, I am the guardian and custodian of the princess and her well-being, husbanding her kingdom as its liege until she-"

"Comes of age, yes. Eighteen. She's eighteen. Has been for a while as I recall."

The other princes have fallen silent by this point, Beardy looking on with an affected casualness as Prandish coughs again. "*ahem ahem*, That is to say...the princess, sweet girl, quite sweet indeed, yes quite, but the rigors of ruling! Oh no, oh my no, frail, quite frail! And I, *ahem*, I am her trusted advisor in all state matt-"

You give a massive shrug, cutting in again. "Okay. So you don't really matter for fuck all, then."

The lord regent blinks at you for a moment, his vaguely featured face turning pale as his mouth bobbles open like a flopping fish. Try as he might, he can't find anything to say before a herald steps out from the top of the grand staircase behind the throne, announcing the arrival of the princess. Prandish coughs again and quickly scurries off, surprisingly spry for a man who's essentially a sentient water balloon.

Beardy rolls his eyes, remarking to the group as the regent (former regent maybe? Did you just talk him into unemployment?) wobbles off. "Everyone thought he was going to try to marry the princess to himself. He recused himself like four, five years ago, right?" He glances over at another prince, continuing when he gets a nod. "Said it was because of his tender familial emotions for her, but I know for a fact it's because he got so fat that his flab totally devoured his dick. Lesson to us all: The time to give it a break is before you need a bath every time you take a piss."

Gross.