SvtFoE: King Me, Part 2

SvtFoE: King Me, Part 2

Note: So yeah, new OC later on in this part. First time really fleshing out a character in this sorta thing. The idea is coming together in my mind, but it still has quite a bit to go. I'm sure that when i'm done with all this, hindsight being 20/20, i'll have lots of criticisms of my own. A rewrite would probably go well with this, but for now enjoy! I'm always welcome to feedback!
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	Marco reclined in a worn sofa, television flashing in front of him as he watched poorly lip-synced masters of martial arts duking it out in a cheesy Kung-Fu movie. The sounds of fake punches and kicks were occasionally broken by the sharp crunch of popcorn, scooped up from a plastic bowl as red as his hoodie.

	"He-heh." He giggled at the infrequent use of wire harnesses, making actors do absolutely ridiculous maneuvers. Aside from that, however, all was relatively quiet. Even from the windows, one could observe the day winding down. The sun was setting with a red-purple hue. His parents were upstairs, doing whatever it was parents do... pay bills or something? He didn't really know, nor was he focused on it.

	Friday evening as it was supposed to be:

	Watching a movie.

	Enjoying some snacks.

	Pushing homework until Sunday.

	Crackling... paper?

	Marco furrowed his brow as he felt something rustling at the top of his head. He looked up.

	"Ah, dang-it you ruined it, Marco!" Star's seemingly disembodied voice exclaimed, "I nearly had it perfect!"

	"Star?" Marco said as she peeked around from the couch, "What're you doin'?" He turned around.

	"Trying to see if this would fit," She said, holding a semi-crumpled, tape-laden paper crown, "I couldn't get good measurements of your head when you kept tossing and turning at night."

	"A crown?" He said with a mildly annoyed tone.

	"Yep!"

	"Uhh... two questions:" He started, "First of all, why were you in my room? Taking measurements of me? In my sleep?! And second—uh—why are you trying to make a crown for me?"

	"Well, obviously I was in your room because it's harder to take measurements when you're awake," Star replied as if this information was universally understood, "And the crown here... is a secret!" She whispered with delight and giddy.

	Sorting his mind for possible interpretations of her remark, the memory of her 'marriage proposal' mentally clicked.

	"Star? Is this about the marriage thing?"

	"Maaaaaybe." She suggested, "And look! I made it by hand, without magic! I cut the paper and taped it all by myself!" She held it out towards him, proud of her work of art.

	"It's perfect for a king!"

	"Uhhh." Marco looked at it.

	"Well, c'mon! Put it on!"

	"Look, Star, about yesterday..." He motioned to reject the crown, pushing her offering away gently. She reacted with an expression of displeasure.

	"What about it?" She asked, coming over to sit on the sofa alongside Marco.

	"Did you, like, actually mean that?"

	"Mean what?"

	"The marriage thing?"

	"Why? Cuz if you're about to hit me up on that offer, then I totally do! I've even picked out what kinda ring I want and the dress and how the royal celebration will go and—and...and..." She noticed Marco did not share her excitement, "Hey, are you okay?" She asked; he was rather uncomfortable in his current situation.

	"This is what I mean, you're all like calm about it and casual. I said no and you're acting like it's a sure thing. I just..."

	"You don't want to marry me?"

	"I... I have a crush on Jackie! C'mon, Star. The thing with freezing time? The field trip?"

	"Crush? Yeah, I know you have a crush on her." She said, "What does that have to do with... with saving me from a crummy, stupid marriage?" A moment of silence came over them. Marco looked completely dumbfounded at her lack of understanding.

	"Oh." It connected, "Ohhhhhhhh..." The sudden realization of it made her sink into the sofa, "So that's what you meant... yesterday... Umm." Her face turned bright red. She didn't just make the romantic connection between what she was saying and what Marco understood, she made it from the perspective of Marco's relation with Jackie: in terms of normal human interaction.

	The awkward silence was punctuated with fidgets and "um's" that reduced the silence yet increased the awkwardness tremendously. She looked at the crown in her hands. It was flimsy. Half of the dull construction paper gave off a glossy reflection due to the sheer amount of tape she used to keep it held together. It wasn't remarkable. It was very much the definition of inadequate.

	And yet... there was something special about it.

	She spent a few hours on getting the exact shape of the crown's points. She looked far and wide on the magic that is the internet, looking for the perfect crown design. She dug through Marco's room, looking for all of his favorite colors so that the crown would be absolutely perfect for him. She spent all the time and effort into... making a gift for Marco. She was absolutely excited to present it to him, to see how he would react.

	It was for Marco.

	All of it.

	"So..." She broke the silence first, "What if I had a crush on you?"

	"You? A crush... on me?" Marco looked at her with an inquisitive glare, "Don't be silly, you like Oskar, don't you?"

	"No, Marco, I think I might actually have a crush on you."

	"Ha-ha, quit playing around."

	Star responded by sliding her hand towards Marco's resting hand. She lifted her hand and placed it atop his. He was warm, always wrapped in his red hoodie. She could feel it as she slipped her fingers around his hand. Marco was taken aback. He withdrew his hand.

	"Please. Star. Stop messing around like that." He said, unsteadily affirmed.

	"Why?"

	"Because it's..." He paused, "It's just annoying."

	"You think i'm annoying?"

	"No, not at all. That's—that's not what I meant." Marco sighed. It looked like he would not be watching that movie any time soon.

	"Is me liking you annoying?"

	"I mean, what would you say if I told you I had a—I don't know—a crush on you?" He realized the futility of the point he made, "Nevermind... It's just kinda weird that you suddenly started liking me as soon as you overheard that you'd be set up with someone in a royal marriage."

	Star didn't really have a reply to that. Marco wasn't exactly wrong.

	"I thought I was clear the first time. I'm no royalty. I'm only fourteen. I'm... nobody. And as a best friend, I really want to help you, but i'm not the solution."

	"I know! You're not royalty, but..."

	"But what?"

	"I have a plan." Star had a comeback for this. Heck, she had a plan. Or, was in the process of making a plan. More accurately, she was in the process of having qualified military officials under her father's leadership to develop a plan.

	'Uh-oh,' Marco thought.

	"I can't really tell you all of it, like I said, it's a secret... but I did like you said! I talked to my dad about it, and he said he'd help me!"

	"Oh... well, that's great!" He said. From what she said, it didn't sound as bad of a plan as he thought it might have been.

	"The thing is, I still need your help. You still play in important role."

	"Well, like I said, I'm always willing to help you."

	"Great!" She exclaimed, "It's all coming together!" Star threw her arms around Marco in celebration, he appeared to welcome it.

	Afterwards, things began to wind down.

	Marco could finally turn at least some of his attention back to the movie at hand. Star planned to work on her 'genius master plan' but found herself enjoying Marco's company, and so she decided to enjoy the movie with him. She was amazed by the sheer skill the fighters. 'Were those the 'sensei's' that Marco talked about? Probably,' she thought. On the other end of the couch, Marco took the crown that Star had started this whole ordeal with.

	"So, you said you made this yourself?" He asked.

	"Yep. With paper and scissors and paper clips, epoxy, sheet metal, an oxyacetylene torch, yadda—yadda—yadda, and no magic." She stressed the 'no'.

	Marco took a look at the crown once more. It looked pretty nice overall despite its crude appearance. He set the crown on his head.

	She smiled.

	"King Marco Diaz... that does sound cool, i'll admit." He said, "Or would I be a prince? How do royal titles work?"

	"I think Princess Diaz would be an awesome name." Star quietly fantasized, leaning her head on his shoulder as they watched the movie.

---

	A crimson banner fluttered over the highest point of the Butterfly Palace. Large spherical bodies hung in the rose pink sky. Rings of forest surrounded the glorious estate. These moons, the sky, the forests, much like everything in the land, were subservient to the Kingdom of Mewni. An excited air was felt from the hills, down to the gardens of the court. Far away and above the meandering of peasants, merchants, and gentry, the marching rows of soldiers could he heard. Men, taken from the farms of noble estates, were hurdled into retinues.

	The word of another interdimensional conquest was stirring conversation between all those residing in the court. However, it was not unusual. Many were, in fact, spared from service due to the negligible status of the opposing force: a simple realm on "Earth," a dimension with observably no magic.

	Also, the planet where the Princess was sent for her own good.

	Stewards and courtiers alike congratulated the King on his daughter's decision to take up his old legacy.

	"Forward! March!"

	"Halt!"

	"Right, face!"

	"Stand down!" The rather young marshal, clad in blue and pink military garb, faced King Butterfly, "What do you say, my liege?"

	"Excellent, Fitzsparkle. I trust no one else to drill such discipline into the lesser classes." He said, heartily, "Ripping them from their filth, throwing a saber in their hands, and turning them into warriors! Magnificent work." He patted the marshal on the back.

	"Thank you, my liege." He said, recoiling under each blow of the hand.

	"We'll just put them in armor and send wave after wave until they fall." The king said, walking off. The sound of his boots could be heard with each step against the fantasy-esque color-saturated cobblestone courtyard. He stopped mid-stride, and turned around to look at the Marshal once more.

	"Oh, and one more thing, Sir Fitzsparkle. There will be a ball later today in the dance hall. It would be a godsend to have your nose in something other than those books for once!" He said, laughing heartily as he continued to walk off.

	"Excellent, m'lord. Thank you for reminding me." Fitzsparkle said, however the king was already far off. He groaned with disgust for his presence yet joy for his exit.

	"The buffoon has taken his leave." He said, turning around to the rows of troops standing at the ready, "Lord Grimsdale, return the men to the camp at once! There is still much work to be done, but for now, let them rest!"

	"Yes, sir!" A soldier spoke up from the front, "Rear, face! March!"

	Fitzsparkle pinched his nose bridge, sighing. 'A moron, he is.' He thought. He began walking back to the court, specifically to his quarters. Entering the court, he observed the rows of paintings of royals on either side of the hall. He had seen them for years, every time he walked up and down this hallway. Magical torches burned a cold, undying blue. 'Sending the levies to die in pointless conflict against an uncivilized enemy.' The thought of his words falling on the king's deaf ears made him sick. It was insanity, the same unfruitful experience over and over.

	His thoughts shifted to the upcoming meeting he had with the King and the Princess on Earth, many days from now. With the assistance of a few, they would begin the work of surveying the land and establishing sentries. It was important to know the enemy. At least, to him. The King had no concern for the likes of attrition warfare or indirect approach. As long as there was carnage, he was happy. Strangely enough, there was at least something that would make Fitzsparkle happy. Assignment in a new dimension meant exploring a new culture, a new people, the likes of which he was unfamiliar with. An exciting taste of the exotic. During the war against the Sprites, he got a taste of Pixtopian culture. The Empress treated him and his officers to a buffet... the Pixie Emperor was quite a treat. The Sprites, however, were left to a fate far worse on the battlefield.

	Coming onto a junction between hallways, he noticed a lady walking in his direction, from where he was heading to. It was Lady Io of Merya, followed by two servants.

	"Oh, Sir Fitzsparkle! What a pleasant surprise." She exclaimed upon seeing him. The two maids stayed silent.

	"Lady Io. Please, the pleasure is all mine." He nodded.

	"I was looking for you. I do wish to inquire whether you will be able to make it to the coming ball." She said, holding left wrist waist-level, tapping it quickly three times with two fingers from her right hand.

	"To me, it bears none but the highest priority." He replied, tapping his wrist in response, albeit in a hurried manner.

	"Magnificent! I do hope it will be a joyous occasion for all parties."

	"One can hope. I am not inclined to rely on hope, however."

	"A gesture expected from such a fine marshal," She said, "Well, I do not wish to take up more of your time. There shall be more to discuss at the ball."

	"I look forward to it. If you'll excuse me, there are important matters to attend to. Good day."

	"Good day, sir!" She exclaimed. The two parted ways and continued down opposite directions of the hall.

	'Three taps, this better be good.' He thought. He headed down the path at a hurried pace. He found his way into the Grand Hall, setting his eyes onto the lesser chambers. Through the marble arched doors, Fitzsparkle advanced, making sure his footsteps were light while maintaining the speed a which he progressed. He came upon his quarters. They were on the left, however he kept moving forwards until he reached a wall with a candle light lamp. It was a dead end. He looked out behind him, to the left and to the right.

	The coast was clear.

	Fitzsparkle grabbed the lamp and looked to the bottom left corner of the supposed dead-end. There was a small notch in the floor. He took the lamp and pressed the base of it into the notch where it weighed down a hidden button.

	"One, two, three..." He counted up the bricks of the wall, and then to the left, "Seven, ten." He pressed the brick. There was a slight shutter. The wall pulled back. Behind it, a large wooden staircase was seen, leading into dim yellow light. He stepped forwards, stopped to pull the lamp back into place, and continued through. He closed the door behind him and continued on his way. After a couple flights around the circular stairs, Fitzsparkle found himself facing a wrought iron and wood door in what appeared to be a rather musty cellar. A thin layer of dust coated everything. Unmarked cloth sacks lay untouched in the corner, next to cobweb wrapped barrels.

	He knocked on the door.

	A metal sight port slid open.

	"The passwor'?" A groggy voice inquired.

	"The king shall die."

	"Long lay the king." The voice replied. With a 'clink' and a 'thunk', the door unlocked. He stepped right on through, eagerly removing his coat in the stagnate warm air.

	"What have we today, Helmsworth?" He said, entering the room. The walls were plastered with maps of the castle, pictures of people, and lines of string drawn throughout the locations and people. At the back of the room behind a group of people, a portrait of the 'honorable' King Butterfly of Mewni, with darts pierced throughout it. They congregated mostly around his face.

	"Things are falling into place, all according to plan." A rather demonic figure said, standing over a table. Fitzsparkle walked up to the table.

	"How did the suitor roll over with them?"

	"Oh great, just great." The individual replied, "They're started planning for a royal marriage."

	"Fantastic," Fitzsparkle said, "As for my brother, the Duke of Chimebrook?"

	"He is just as fooled as the royals. He looks forward to meeting his future spouse."

	"This is just too good to be true," he savored the moment, "The troops respect me more than the king, this upcoming war for the princess' own interests will take them for from the realm, and I will have a clear path to succession."

	"Don't get your hopes up just yet." A voice called out from adjacent to the table, a feminine figure with a knife and whetstone in hand.

	"No window yet?"

	"Nope. The King is planning to bring his magic seers along with him."

	"Drats." He sighed.

	"I'm telling you, this plan will never work," She said, "Your brother will be a challenge enough. To kill the King and his daughter and walk away with the crown? Absolute madness."

	"This, like warfare, is just a game." He picked up a figure representing the king from a map laid across the table, "We must find a flank, disrupt the order, find a point of weakness, and apply pressure... until they all break." He squeezed the figure in between his thumb and index figure.