"A Comedy of Errors"

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait. This story is likely to be updated in drips and drabs, and with no solid ending in sight, I have no idea where it's going to go. Well, I do have some idea...but as to how we'll get there, now, that's something else. A friend asked me why this is rated "M", and said it could probably be rated "T" for now and upped later on if it came to that. She's probably right...after all, there will be no explicit sex, though occasionally it will be implied. The "M" rating is more for 'matter-of-fact' descriptions of Koopa anatomy. For example: Bowser walks around naked, but you can't see anything. Why is that? People might argue that his shell covers everything, but unless he actually retreats INTO his shell, he seems to have a lizard's scaly underbelly. The question is answered (or the answer is guessed at by this author) when he takes his morning shower in this chapter. Some of my readers will probably think less of me for thinking these things out and writing about them. Oh well...such is life! Speculation is what I do.

Speaking of Bowser, what with the way he interacts with his overbearing mother, he might seem a bit out of character in this chapter. He'll come into his own later on, I promise!

"Chapter 1: Cold Feet"

"Bowser!"

His dreamless sleep came to an abrupt end as he heard his mother roar his name not two inches away from his ear-hole. "What!" the prince cried out, startled so badly that he rolled out of bed.

Drucilla Koopa was easily the most fearsome Dragon Koopa female in existence, and she was not well liked. Behind her back, the servants called her 'Dragon Lady'. To her face, it was 'Your Majesty', or simply 'Please don't kill me!'. Her shell and facial 'mask' were emerald green, one of many traits she had passed on to her son. Her hair, while beginning to show streaks of gray, was fiery red and worn in a short bob; the better to show off her horns, of which she was quite proud. They were rare enough in males, and almost unheard of in females. Far from being self-conscious about them, she considered them to be a sign of strength. She stood at an impressive six-foot-four and her waistline was beginning to thicken, but the added flab did nothing to diminish her physical strength. All Dragon Koopas, even the females, were much stronger than any human could hope to be. Right now, her scarlet eyes were glaring down at her (almost) nineteen-year-old son, and the way they were magnified behind her thick eyeglasses made her gaze that much more unsettling.

He blinked owlishly up at her from his low position on the floor, clutching the scarlet comforter rather primly to his chest. His body had been forced into wakefulness, but his mind had yet to catch up.

Drucilla snorted, sending twin jets of smoke from her nostrils, and whipped the blankets off of Bowser in one swipe. "You get your fat ass up, you get in that shower, and you hurry down to the throne room!" she snarled, crossing the room to where his shell was and grabbing it up. Her back was turned, so she missed her son's indignant look. Admittedly he was getting a bit of a tummy, but he was hardly what one might call fat.

"But Ma..." Bowser protested, and she chucked the shell at him. He was barely awake enough to catch it, and he made a small 'oof' as it collided with his belly.

"That's 'Queen Ma' to you! Now move it!"

"Sorry, Queen Ma, then..." Bowser ducked below the edge of his bed for some measure of privacy and jammed his shell onto his back, wiggling a bit to make sure it was on nice and snug before getting up. "What about breakfast?"

"No time. You meet your future bride this afternoon, and you've got lessons to catch up on. It's not my fault you overslept." the queen informed him, quite unconcerned when his question was punctuated by a loud stomach rumble. "Shower. Shell. Throne room. Make it happen. You have fifteen minutes."

Drucilla turned her back and tromped out of the room, and Bowser finally let his anger show on his face in the form of narrowed eyes and a curled lip. 'Who are you calling fat, you waddling old bitch...'

Fifteen minutes...She would expect him there by then, no later, and earlier if possible. Still seething with anger, his face sagging into a defeated pout, the prince removed his shell once more and tucked it under his arm as he went to perform his morning ablutions.

Bowser leaned his shell up against the wall, the spikes facing outward, and even though he set it down gently it made a heavy 'thud' that echoed in the tiled room. He caught sight of his reflection in one of the many full-length mirrors, and drew himself up to his full eight-foot height. It should have been closer to eight-foot-eight, but even when he discarded his heavy shell and stood as straight as he could, his posture hunched forward a bit. He couldn't keep the pose for long, though; not unless he wanted his back to cramp up and be sore for the rest of the day. 'One more thing I can thank her for...'

He stood in front of the mirror and turned, craning his neck so that he could see the reflection of his broad, well-toned back. It had only been about a year since his hardened shell had finished separating from his back and he was able to remove it. His first peek at his back was disheartening to say the least. His perfect, dark-gold scales were marred by a blemish he couldn't hope to hide. There, beginning just below his right shoulder blade and ending just above the left side of his tail, was a long and deep scar. This explained why he was unable to stand fully erect, and why his back sometimes hurt him even though the injury had supposedly healed many years ago. His shell had healed without showing the faintest trace; Kamella had seen to that. If only she had been able to make the healing spell go deeper...

Normally, the thought didn't trouble him. After all, why should it? He was young; he was strong; he was handsome, if he did say so himself...and he frequently did. He had money and power, and his power would only increase when he was crowned King on his wedding day. There was no shortage of girls who would kill to marry such a catch. Those girls didn't know about his scar. They would probably be disgusted if they saw it. Those girls would never have the chance to see it; his bride had already been chosen for him, for political reasons. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it. In a way, it was a relief. He wouldn't have to weed out the ones who only wanted his money and the title 'Queen Koopa', and he wouldn't have to play their little guessing games. His intended, or at least her family, probably had made the agreement with money and power in mind, and in this case it was both excusable and expected.

On the other hand, he was preparing to spend the rest of his life with a girl he had never even met! If she hated his scar, if she hated him (hell, if he didn't like her), oh well! There would be no turning back, and they would be stuck with each other.

While he was turning those thoughts over in his mind, Bowser got a good look at his own expression. Pouty. Insecure. Scared.

Drawing himself up again, Bowser made a fist and bared his fangs. "Man up, you sissy!" he boomed out, "You're Bowser Koopa! Future King of the Darklands! You gonna let yourself show fear when you meet your girl? Kings don't show fear! And who's the future king, baby!" he flexed, making a muscle, psyching himself up. "Oh yeah! I'm Bowser Koopa, and the world's really gonna know what awesome is when it gets a load of me! Bwahahaha!"

His courage renewed and feeling quite satisfied, Bowser turned away from the mirrors and headed for the toilet. Flexing the muscles of his lower belly, he freed his member from its abdominal sanctuary and relieved himself before stepping into the shower. A quick glance at the wall clock told him that he had already wasted five minutes. He knew he would never get away with skipping his shampoo, not with a mother who noticed everything, so he was just going to have to meet her with damp hair and hope she wouldn't care. Normally he would stand underneath the spray and enjoy the feeling of hot water on his scarred back; even though the old injury rarely hurt him now, the heat still felt good and the sound of the water helped to relax him. Since he didn't have time for that today, he took a quick lukewarm shower and brushed his fangs while still dripping wet. He quickly dried himself off and combed back his damp hair, putting on his shell and hurrying to meet his mother in the throne room.

The prince was not a morning Koopa. He enjoyed (and expected) to be allowed to sleep as long as he wanted to on any given morning. It had started back when he was a small child under the care of the three Magikoopa siblings. Kamek, the oldest; his tutor, and the one who was required by the Queen Mother to do most of the child rearing. She herself had gotten bored with motherhood after only three months of caring for her son, and couldn't be bothered. As a direct consequence, Kamek was frequently tired, and as far as he was concerned it was all the better if the prince was asleep and out of his rapidly-thinning hair.

Kammy, the next oldest, was Kamek's full-sibling and was more of an annoying aunt to Bowser than anything else. While the prince never became particularly close to her, he did enjoy playing jokes on the scatter-brained old lady, whom he frequently called 'Haggy'. Having no desire to find shaving cream, dead frogs, or toe-claw clippings in her purse upon retiring for the night, Kammy learned early on to stay on his good side. If this meant letting him sleep as long as he wanted to, then so be it. She had no problem with that!

Then there was Kamella, the youngest, and half-sibling to the other two. She had far surpassed them in the field of magic, which had earned her the title "Queen of the Magikoopas". She had encountered great personal tragedy in her life, losing her husband and young son soon after coming to work at the castle, and at first she hadn't particularly cared to associate with the young prince, duty or no. He was almost the same age as her dead child, and the memory was still way too fresh in her mind to allow her to bond with him on any level at first. Then she saw the type of 'mothering' he was subjected to, and her hardened heart melted just enough to let him in. Which was just as well, since he was known to throw horrible tantrums if she didn't show up to read him his bedtime story every night. In truth, she was more of a 'mother' to him than Drucilla ever was. Seeing how peaceful he looked while he was sleeping, she was loathe to wake him when it was her turn to watch him. This was especially true after the death of King Morton, who was quite a good father when his efforts weren't being sabotaged by his overbearing wife.

So, it was no surprise that Bowser quickly became accustomed to getting as much sleep as he wanted during the 'Magikoopa days'. When he got a little older and someone else had to wake him, he reacted with astonishing ferocity. Everyone in the castle knew this, and it was always the 'low man on the totem pole' who was sent to wake him on the occasions when he had either ignored his alarm clock or broken it. New servants would take notice of their superiors' amusement as they made their way to the prince's bedroom, and it never took them long to find out exactly why. When the newbie made the return trip (if they were able to make it on foot, that is), they were almost always covered in scorch marks. This was a fairly tame scolding on Bowser's part, for he was already known far and wide for being a ruthless tyrant. This reputation was largely undeserved, but he rather liked it. It kept people from taking unwanted liberties, and ensured that he was left alone.

His mother was the exception. He had learned years ago not to cross her.

"Shit..." Bowser hissed as he ran down the hallway, skidding around a corner and nearly colliding with the opposing wall. He wasn't going to make it on time. "Sonovabitch..."

He slowed to a walk as he neared the open door to the throne room, clearing his throat and smoothing back his hair as he tried to stop puffing and panting from his run. His insides twisted as he saw Drucilla standing there, her shell facing him as she waited, tapping her foot. 'Damn, she's pissed already...'

There was no way she couldn't have heard him coming, but still she did not turn and acknowledge him, and he cleared his throat again before announcing himself. "I'm here."

Drucilla, with cool aplomb, turned around and slapped Bowser across the face with such force that his head snapped to the side. "You're late." she informed him.

To his credit, Bowser took it stoically and replied with a steady voice, "Sorry."

She tilted her head, and pointed a red-painted claw at the side of her head. "Sorry who?"

Bowser felt his face redden even more than the slap warranted, and forced himself to grind out, "Sorry...Queen Ma."

The queen smiled, a deceptively sweet expression. "That's better. Good. Now, how are you going to greet your fiancee when you meet her?"

Dear Stars above...

"Ummm..." He should have known the answer to that; it had been drilled into his head often enough, but for some reason Bowser was drawing a huge blank. Just being in Drucilla's presence was enough to make his thoughts scatter like so many marbles. "I, um, well..."

"Ugh...If your caretakers had actually done their job, I wouldn't even have to be doing this!" the queen grumbled, pinching the bridge of her muzzle. "You will bow and kiss her hand, you will introduce yourself, and you will tell her how pleased you are to meet her. I went to a lot of trouble to find you this girl, and I won't have you embarrassing me. Now, tell me...how will you greet your fiancee when you meet her?"

Stars above and Ztars below, the woman was infuriating! "I...will..."

Before Bowser could get any further than that, she slapped him again. "Stand up straight! You look like a hunchback! Comes from not having a spine, like your moron of a father! No king should stand hunched over like that, and no king should ever fumble over his words! He should know what he's going to say, and he should come right out and say it!"

Bowser clenched his jaw against the fire he wanted to spew. He knew what he wanted to say, but if he actually said it things would only be worse. Taking a deep breath and keeping his eyes fixated on his mother's forehead instead of meeting her gaze directly, he said without emotion, "I will bow and kiss her hand, I will introduce myself respectfully, and I will tell her how pleased I am to meet her. I will make her feel welcome in our castle. I will mind my manners. I will not embarrass the Kingdom or you, and I will carry myself with the dignity befitting a gentleman." And he thought, but didn't say, 'And then I'm gonna fricken' puke, because that's nothing even close to being anything like me! Arranged marriages can kiss my scaly yellow ass...'

"Good boy." Drucilla nodded her approval, though anyone who witnessed this might think she was praising an obedient dog.

The next few hours were pure hell for Bowser. Crash courses in manners, verbal pop quizzes, with his bitch of a mother belittling him all the way. Bowser was far from being a push-over, but his mother was an accomplished sorceress. She had nowhere near the amount of magical knowledge that the Magikoopas possessed, but it was more than enough to overpower Bowser's physical strength, and it was for this very reason that he didn't dare fight back. When she finally left the throne room to check on the preparations that were being made for her future daughter-in-law's arrival, Bowser relaxed his posture with a sigh. "Bitch..."

He gave the empty doorway the finger and hopped onto the throne, turning sideways so that the backs of his knees were draped over one of the arms. His ego still smarting, he began to quietly sass her. Gestures included. "Gimme a break...'Stand up straight, you look like a hunchback!' 'Use your napkin!' 'Don't slurp your soup!' 'No flatulence at the table!' 'I went to a lot of trouble to find you this girl, you better sweep her off her feet, unlike your moron of a father!'..." he trailed off and sighed, rubbing a hand down his face and gazing up at a large oil portrait that was hanging right in his field of vision. It was a portrait of his parents, one that had been commissioned at around the time they were married.

His eyes were drawn to his father especially, whom he barely remembered.

King Morton had been rather corpulent in life; to put it bluntly, he had enjoyed his food. He possessed brown body scales and a gray shell, and his muzzle was somewhat round. A fang peeked out at each corner of his mouth, overlapping his bottom lip. His head scales were stark white, and he had a gray, star-shaped birthmark over his right eye. He usually combed his cobalt blue hair straight back, but there was always one stubborn strand that tended to flip forward into his face. Bowser remembered him as being quick to smile and having a deep, rolling laugh. Oh, his father had laughed often...when his mother wasn't around, that is.

They were young in the portrait. Bowser had never seen his parents that young in person, though; it had taken Drucilla nearly a decade to become pregnant with his egg (some speculated in secret that it was because she rejected her husband as a lover, and they were most likely right), and by then his father was beginning to go gray at his temples. His mother had been pretty, even Bowser couldn't deny that, but her beauty was spoiled by her constant scowl and her evil nature. The Koopa Monarchy was traditionally evil, and she certainly fit the bill.

Their wedding was arranged as well, of course. Morton was a high-born lord, not a prince, but at the time princes and princesses were rather thin on the ground, and Drucilla's parents had made their daughter the best match they could, given the circumstances. Morton was older than his wife, but he was the perfect definition of a henpecked husband. One of Bowser's last memories of his father was one where he was sitting on his knee. "Thank the Stars you've got your mother's looks...but I hope for the Kingdom's sake, and for your own, that you've got a few of my personality traits." he had said to his son, who was too young to fully understand the significance of his words.

Bowser understood now. Oh, boy, did he ever! Gazing wistfully at the image of his father and pointedly ignoring his mother's, he sighed heavily as he felt a dull ache in his heart. It was almost strong enough to overpower the butterflies that were fluttering energetically in his stomach...but not quite. Bowser had vowed more than once that his children would be allowed to choose their own husbands and wives. There would be children; it was his duty to produce an heir for the kingdom, after all. He himself would have no choice, however; his mother had seen to that. His happiness had nothing to do with it. He sighed again, slowly shaking his head, and mumbled hopelessly, "I'm so screwed..."