Tybalt, you ratcatcher! Will you walk?

[shadowandsnark]

 [OOC: All dialog and events herein come from the short story Rat-Catcher which is from the anthology A Fantasy Medley 2.]

June, 1666. London, England.

"I do love the way they stage the duels here," Rand commented to me as we perched up in the rafters of the theater the Duke Company used for their productions.

I sat cross-legged and scowled at him. "You've seen this show a dozen times!"

"Closer to a dozen dozens, more likely, and yet I never tire of it," he said, glancing away from the actors long enough to grin at me. "Can't you relax for one evening, and enjoy a little entertainment?"

"No, I can't, and neither should you," I replied, and folded my arms. "Father wants you."

"So he sent you to retrieve me?" Rand scoffed. "Did he consider, for a moment, that I might refuse to come?"

"He did, yes."

"And?"

"And if I fail to retrieve you, I'm to be put to work minding the kittens for a week's time, to teach me obedience," I replied with a baleful scowl. "I won't mind kittens for you, Rand. You're coming with me, whether you like it or not."

"Am I, then?" Rand asked, raising an eyebrow. "Will you fight me in order to bring me home? Much as I love you, darling Jill, I doubt you'd come out the winner in that particular contest."

"I won't fight you."

"Then what?"

"I'll sit here and cry through your precious performance if you refuse to come. And tomorrow night, when my time in the nursery ends, I'll do the same. And the night after that, until such time as you apologize to me." I replied and smiled sweetly. "You can save us both a great deal of time and suffering if you simply come with me now."

Rand cast a longing look towards the actors. Mercutio was preparing to die, and in the process was layering curses down on both waring houses. "Are you sure father can't wait?"

"Come on!"

Comments

[shadowandsnark]

My sister, Jill, and I escorted our brother to Father's throne room, nervous of the reception we would receive. Father had not only been in a temper but had neglected to tell us to fetch dear Rand, though we knew the fool boy felt the message from the Divided Courts was worth the bother. Hopefully, Father would, if not agree with him, at least not take out his displeasure on us.

We paused on the threshold of the throne room; all was too quiet. The room was empty, save our Father sitting on his throne. Unbidden I thought of my older brother, Carr, who had died in the very room. The room had ben much like it was now, empty and quiet, when he had challenged Father for the right to rule. He lost and my elder sister Cailin, paid the price with him.

Politics in the Court of Cats are simple and brutal. A King without any heirs is in danger to any Prince or Princess that comes, but a King with heirs can guard himself from outside attempts at secession. And so it was that Father bought three princes for his heirs, and three princesses to hold as hostages to keep the princes pliant. One prince had already fallen, taking a princess with him; another ran rather than face Father and thus Rand had two princesses when he should have had only one.

"Hello, Father," Rand called out genteelly; ever the fool, even now. "I must speak with you. It is a matter of some grave importance."

"You overreach yourself, kit. I chose what holds importance in this Court." Our Father replied, glaring down upon us.

"You sent me to hear a message." Rand said, still attempting words.

"Is that what I sent you to do? I thought I sent you to silence the whining of the Divided Courts and buy me peace. Peace which you are now disrupting."

Standing beside Rand, I could hear him take a steading breath before speaking again. "The Undersea sent an ambassador who tended to their message--tended, not tendered, for she was a Roane girl, and not some simple proclamation. She said the city was to burn, and all of Londinium with it. The division of the worlds will not protect us. We must flee, Father. That is what the Roane's vision told her, and what she carried here, to us. We must flee, or surely we will burn."

I closed my eyes in dread at Rand's words. Oh brother, you have gone too far.

None of us saw Father move, Ainmire had been King too long for that. One moment he was on the throne, the next he was slamming Rand to the ground and roaring, more lion than housecat. Rand tried to free himself but was trapped. Jill and I looked at each other unsure what to do.

"You do not dictate here!" Father snarled as he reached down to grab Rand's shoulders, claws piercing deep into his flesh. "I am King! I say whether we stand or run! I protect us, and no fire will drive me from my kingdom!" He shook Rand then, like a kitten, claws digging even deeper. "Do you understand?"

He was going to get us killed I thought of both my brother and my King. My sister and I tonight, our people when the fire comes.

"You are King, Father, but the fire will not care," Rand said quietly, to my shock. He was still trying to reason with our father? "The Roane are never wrong. If we stay, we will burn."

"As long as I am King, we stay," Father said and dropped Rand, hard and with disgust. "What do you say to that, kitten?"

Jill looked at me pleadingly, ready to leap to Rand's aid. I shook my head. If Rand were to challenge our father, and I was quickly realizing I wished he would and save us all, he had to do it by his own hand, or the Court would never follow him. Rand looked to me, sorrow and fear easily seen. I nodded. He looked next to Jill, who nodded as well.

"I say, Father, that I am no longer a kitten," Rand said, turning his eyes to our King and smiling blithely. "Nor, I am afraid, are you a King."