Saga Of The European King

Oranje was beaten. The King had waited until she was out of breath, crouched to avoid the energy blasts, then thrown David at her, full power. He had done this three times. He was talking on the phone to the troll the whole time. He wasn't the King for nothing - as if you didn't know that already.

Oranje was panting hard. He was out of breath and out of health. The King was ready to throw David for a killing blow, but first he wanted an explanation. His traveling companions backed away. This was private. This was the honoured territory between a man and his ex. The King lowered David and put him on the ground. He walked slowly towards Oranje. He was unarmed. He meant no harm.

And then Oranje ruined everything, possibly forever.

"David!" she said, "My son! Come to your mother." David looked at the King, saw the sadness on his suddenly tired, old face, and knew that it was all true. He'd known it all the while, somehow, but now no part of him could deny it – he'd just beat up his own mother. This was such a mess of new emotions for little David. His brain was so scattered when Oranje had left that he hadn't even been able to keep a solid memory of her together, so he didn't really know what mothers were all about. He had been mothered a little bit by the King's girlfriends, but they treated him more like a puppy. If he had died of pneumonia, or been hit by a bread truck, that would have been a real bummer, but the King's girlfriends would have gotten over it. He had mostly been raised by the maid, who had breastfed him for a while and then put him in the living room to watch soap operas while she tidied up and cooked dinner. David always knew exactly what was happening in every soap opera that was on, because he had been following them for his entire life. He liked the mothers on the soap operas, because they were so full of emotion. He loved their breasts and the way they were always making sacrifices or breaking the law for their children. And now, here he was, hurting his own mother, who now only wanted to hug him. He was confused, so he just did what she said. He waddled over to her beaten frame. Then there came the hug to end all hugs. It was not a friendly tackle, nor the embrace of lovers about to do the nasty with each other, but it was the hug of a mother, full of regrets, who misses her son. Oranje's sadness and regret flowed into David and his childish happiness and having a good time flowed into her, so they both came out about average – somehow lessened, somehow strengthened.

"He even knew who you were!" screamed the King, and his voice shook the Moon. The King was angry and hurt. His eyes were all hardness and feelings and he wanted Oranje to know those things and feel bad. But Oranje was still hugging David, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked up at the King, with David's head buried in her shoulder, and smiled. She showed teeth. The King knew what that smile was. There was nothing he could do. He scrambled for the throwing-hammer he kept in his shoe, but David was already flying through the air towards him, hurled with every ounce of strength that Oranje had, which had been magnified and powered up by the maternal energies she had just absorbed from David's hug. David smashed head-first into the King's nose. David was unharmed, of course, because of his magical belt, but the King lost dozens of hit points - both from the force of the collision, and the penalties inflicted by the sadness and betrayal that was going on. One of the King's hearts imploded from the sadness he felt right then. That heart would never beat again.

Roxy Tripfoot bounded over to apply some surgical rabbits to the King's headwound, and Leonard Cohen instantly composed and sang the greatest song about cheating women that has ever been thought of, even by him. Axe Axewound and Colonel Glowfist flung waves of aggression and magic at the place where Oranje had been, but she was gone.

David was silent.

End Of Chapter 35