A litter of wayward kittens, barely weaned, become very attached to "Dex" following him around trying to get cuddles. -- BKF
There's a certain amount of chaos in every life. For example, his father the King had occasionally had to sit the Blood Throne whilst pulling double duty as his infant daughter's favourite bed. The trick, Dad said, was to carry on as if everything was perfectly normal and to let others turn it into a problem.
"And then," Dad said with his trademark grin, "it is their problem to deal with."
It had sounded infinitely wise when Dex heard it at the age of six. Now that Dex was sixteen and terribly concerned with other people's judgement, he had to wonder how his father did it.
Dad had weathered incursions of toddlers, cats, and random sightseers' escaped pets. He simply got on with his expected business as much as he could whilst also dealing with the unexpected. As if it was never a problem and never would be.
Dex had nevertheless absorbed the imperative that he had to be a perfect Prince whilst attending his father's court. His twin brother, Bene, had a similar stiffness. Even when some of their younger siblings demanded to also sit in court, and wound up on their laps. He'd have to shush a baby brother or sister more than once while other people were talking their piece in court.
He remembered being less bothered by it when he was younger. Lately? He felt like hundreds of eyes in the viewing galleries were watching him for the slightest mistake. That the people who came to see the devilborn King were also there to judge the hell out of Dex.
Was the firstborn Prince as good as his father? Or was the primary heir to the throne a spoiled brat with delusions of grandeur?
Dex winced at the claws digging into his calf, and not just because a creature was clawing at his hose. For a start, there were four of them. Secondly, they were actively climbing him. Third - he knew these kittens, and they had decided that he was their mum.
A calico, a ginger, a tabby, and a cow-patterned kitten wobbled onto his knees. Bene was no help whatsoever, hiding his chuckles behind one blue hand.
He would look foolish if he put the kittens back down on the floor. They'd only climb him again. So he plucked the ginger off his shin and placed him with the others in his lap. Chucking their tiny chins or scratching their shoulders. Otherwise, he ignored the clowder whilst he paid attention to matters of the court.
Part of his thoughts whispered, Being good with cats is a good sign. It shows patience, understanding, empathy, and the ability to respect boundaries. As long as he didn't monologue on some megalomaniacal plan, he would be fine.
The case before his father should not have got as far as the King's Court. The correct decision had been made at the Reeves' Office before they took it to their Baron, then their Duke, and so on all the way up to... here. So one of them had to be a petty little snipe willing to stand in front of the Thrice-Sworn King and throw a tantrum about it.
And that individual was the one spending the most words on it all. The other party was just quietly arranging their documents. Dad had read all the copies submitted to him, of course. He could just look at things and remember them.
A skill that Dex was trying valiantly to acquire.
"What say you of the matter, my sons?"
Dad had been doing this since he and Bene had been old enough to blow raspberries at his Dukes. Dex gestured for his brother to speak.
"I think the Goodwife Daenrel is far too petty for her own good." Bene ceded the floor to Dex.
"This is a matter over a single fencepost, which is no longer in the place of contention, having been burned in the Midwinterfeast bonfire eight years ago. The extant fence is fully in agreement and need not be a matter of import. Methinks the Goodwife Daenrel has dragged this case so far in order to declare that she has spoken to the King... if not the Infernal Emperor."
Daenrel's face turned vermilion, moving to maroon. "I demand recompense! From the place of authority! As is my right!"
The other contender held up a slip of paper. A bill of payment.
"And don't believe the payment of coin! I demand a payment of kind! To equal worth!"
Dad looked to Mam, who nodded back to Dex.
"In kind, is it?" said Dad, looking not to Dex, but the clowder in Dex's lap. "You already have a new fencepost."
Oho! The equal value part could mean anything that was of equivalent worth to a fencepost. Dex considered his kittens. Which one would give this old snipe the most trouble?
Dad got up from his everyday throne and journeyed up to the Blood Throne. "The judgement under my light is uncontestable. Listen well. Let it be heard. Let it be known. Let it be written and let it be done." He sat, and the hall filled with blood-red light. No shadow but the shape of the King in the ancestral chair.
"You wish for equivalent worth, Goodwife Daenrel? You shall accept the item my firstborn gifts you, and undertake the charge he gives with it."
Dex handed three of the kittens to his brother. "Hold these for a minute." The fourth in his hands, he rose as Dad rose. The light returned to normal as Dex strode down the steps to the dock where Goodwife Daenrel stood surprisingly mute for a change.
"Goodwife Milisthen Daenrel. I gift you this as the right to equivalent worth you claim. I charge you with its care and wellbeing, seeing it in health until its natural death. And I bid you further to keep it whole as well as hale. Paying in full for the care of its get." Then he pressed the ginger kitten into the woman's hands.
Dex winked to Dad, who was suppressing a chuckle of his own now. Mam had a far more obvious expression of appreciation.
After all, the old saying went, Give trouble, get trouble.
[Photo by Michael Glazier on Unsplash]
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