Remorse and Responsibility.

My stomach did a back flip and I neary fell over.

"His body guard? Me? But he's a warrior, and I'm ..."

My father sighed, the terrible red colour lifting slightly from his cheeks.

"...A waste of space. Yes I know that but you'll do this job and you'll like it or I'll make you the sole protector and cleaner of his horse. It has a loverly case of the runs at the moment. Would you prefer that?"

I tossed the idea over in my head. Royal cleaner of horse menure or royal protector of someone with a personality like menure. This wasn't actually a choice that was as easy as it seemed. I shrugged resignedly. My still sleepy voice struggling not to portray an incoming bout of severe depression.

"Body guard it is then. Can I at least be his half-body guard? He is my half-brother after all?"

My father's ever flaring cheeks regained their molten hue. It sounded like thunder was peeling right in my ear hole.

"You will do exactly as I tell you to or you'll be in the royal stables faster than you can fly! Do you understand me! Now get dressed. I want you in the throne room in an hour, and don't be late!"

With this the blotchy red faced deamon turned round and stormed out of my room. I slumped back on my bed with a remorseful cry that I kept as low as I possibly could just incase the wrathful fairy was still hovering about outside.

I didn't want to be a body guard. I didn't want any responsibility and I certainly didn't want to be within more than ten miles of my father. As usual what I wanted didn't seem to matter and as I equally didn't want to spend my royal internship cleaning a horse's bottom I wasn't in any kind of a position to argue.

I opened my wardrobe and peered despondantly inside. In the little box was a series of once fairly respectful garments all of which looked like they'd seen much better days. Most of them were covered in food, various forms of alchohol and other suspicious stains. The one's that weren't were about ten times too small for me or covered in chew marks from one of my only real friends, the royal goat.

I had an hour to think of a way out of this seemingly impossible situaion or at least of a way of looking slightly respectable. Things were not looking promising.

I peered into my possessions and scratched my head. I was a master at getting out of anything more important than figuring out where the next party was and how I could get myself invited. I wasn't going to be beaten by this.

 

 

The End

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