The King of His Castle
AUTHOR: Alicia U.
CATEGORY: RR Humor
DISCLAIMER: These characters don't belong to me. I am not making any money from them; I am merely using them for fun.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Unlike some people thought, this is *not* a Robin Hood parody, and it was never intended to be. I had always intended it to be a *loose* parody of the King Arthur legend. Believe me, I never intended to step on anyone's toes. And since this is Romano's dream, he is the good guy and Mark, Kerry, and Anspaugh are the bad guys. Also, since this is a dream, there will be leaps of logic and Mark, Elizabeth, Kerry, Anspaugh, Peter, and Carter will definitely *not* be true to character. Just wanted to warn you all ahead of time. :)
SUMMARY: What does Dr. Romano dream about? The fair Lady Lizzie, of course!
The alarm clock rang, and the short, bald man rolled over in bed cursing everything he could think of. Robert Romano was not one to be particular about who he damned. Shutting the alarm off, he simultaneously stretched and got out of bed. "Damn, five am," he muttered.
He was the chief of staff at County General, for God's sake! Why did he have to get there so early? In the end, though, it was a small sacrifice he had to make, because he found it more fun to torture people when he was tired and irritable.
The only thing that he hated about mornings was that when he woke up, he had to leave that wonderful world he had created in his mind when he was asleep. One dream stood out in his mind every day as he woke up. It was a recurring dream that he had been having for so many nights now. In this dream, he was a powerful king who ruled over a large kingdom called Chicago. Usually, his dreams focused on his power and his prowess in war, but last night's dream had focused on a lady, the Lady Lizzie from the land of England, to be exact.
Once upon a time, the Good (Looking) King Robert ruled the large, beautiful, bountiful land called Chicago. The Good King had regained his throne after a long, hard-fought battle with the Evil Donald who had ruled over the kingdom while King Robert had been in a far away land fighting off the dragons and the monsters that threatened Chicago. Of course that's that thanks he got for ridding his kingdom of the threats from beyond. After such a horrifically long and painful journey back from the far edges of his kingdom, he returned to find his name sullied and his throne stolen. He thanked his lucky stars that nearly all of his army had survived the horrible war and his knights were still, for the most part, loyal to their rightful king. It had taken five weeks and many casualties on both sides, but in the end Robert's army prevailed and he reclaimed his rightful throne.
Now the threats of dragons and monsters were gone and the Evil Donald was exiled to the barren wasteland called Cleveland due to King Robert's cunning wit and agility in battle. Okay, he grudgingly admitted, *maybe* his knights were the best in the world and they *probably* helped win the battle. His knights of the Operating Table were the undisputed best knights in the world. Every young man in the world, at least those in their right mind, dreamed of becoming one of the famed knights of the Operating Table. Robert smiled widely, though, for it was he who had trained them. There, he could take credit for that.
Now that the horrible war was over, King Robert focused his energy on ridding his kingdom of evil forces from within. There were so many people that King Robert doubted, from the serfs that were plotting a revolution led by his arch enemy, Sir Marcus of Greene, to his closest advisors that were siding with the Evil Donald, led by the Lady Kerry of the Three Legs.
Between Sir Marcus, Lady Kerry of the Three Legs, and the Evil Donald, Good King Robert had his hands full. Thus, he maintained a large standing army to deal with the surf revolutions. His well-trained knights were highly skilled and could defeat a pack of lowly, untrained serfs with one hand tied behind their backs. However, this Sir Marcus was slick, and he was teaching the lowly serfs strategy and fighting tactics. Sir Marcus was at one time King Robert's brightest knight. In fact, he and the Good King had grown up together and had at one time been as close as brothers. However, once Robert's father died and Robert inherited the throne, Marcus became more distant. With each day that eventually mounted into weeks, which stretched into months, Marcus and Robert grew farther apart. Marcus turned his jealousy to the forces of evil. His life's mission became that of militarizing Chicago's serfs to press for independence. And with Sir Marcus' help, it was only a matter of time before they would be trained well enough to compete with the King's army, even with the best knights of the Operating Table. With Sir Marcus as their leader, those damned peasants were nearly unstoppable. Robert would never be able to deal with that! God, how he hated that insubordinate Sir Marcus!
Kerry of the Three Legs also garnered quite a challenge for Robert. Despite her physical disability, she possessed the highest intellect of any of the King's advisors. She was also highly loyal to Evil Donald. Robert was caught between a rock and a hard place because even though he knew she sided with Evil Donald, she was his brightest advisor and ran his kingdom more efficiently than anyone else could. The sacrifice was an easy one for Robert to make. He kept Kerry on his staff, but only under close, constant surveillance. If she made a false move, off with her head! God, he loved having that authority. He even had a guillotine set up in his throne room so he could watch the executions. Now *that* was quality entertainment!
Sitting on his golden throne in his large, exquisite throne room that was decorated lavishly but tastefully, King Robert gazed out the window over the hills and valleys of the beautiful land called Chicago. How he had missed it when he was gone. Sure, slaying dragons and fighting monsters was fun. Those hard-fought battles gave him a feeling of immortality and left him with a feeling of exhilaration that could only be compared to sexual satisfaction. As good as that felt, though, nothing could compare to the wonderful feeling of pure, unchallenged power that washed over ever nerve in his body whenever he looked over the land that he called his own. Sometimes he wondered if he was the most powerful king in the world, if he had the most beautiful land in the world, and, especially, if he was the best looking king in the world. His bald head might not be entirely attractive, but when he wore his multi-colored crown, it made him look powerful, dignified, and absolutely sexy, if he did say so himself.
In fact, his power and dashing good looks seemed to be a real aphrodisiac for the women of his kingdom. None of the local women, slave nor noble, could resist his charms. In fact, he had probably slept with every woman in Chicago, and his calendar was full for the next three years. Even with all of the attention, King Robert wasn't satisfied. He knew that the right woman for him was out there somewhere, but he just hadn't found her yet.
Today, as King Robert watched over his kingdom his messenger, okay, if he really admitted it, spy, ran into the throne room nearly tripping on the golden statue of King Robert that adorned the center of the room. In that statue, Robert was dressed in his favorite suit of armor adorned by his crown. And, damn, did he look powerful and dignified in that statue. It was an absolutely true to life representation. His rippling muscles nearly burst through the armor and had the women of the kingdom constantly wiping drool from their chins. Everyone that walked into the throne room saw the beautiful statue and they all remarked about just how wonderful the King looked. Of course, Robert was a sucker for praise, and he would favor anyone that complimented him for the rest of his rein.
The messenger, a young dark-skinned man, stopped and bowed at the King's feet. "Oh wise, wonderful King Robert, I have an urgent report from the countryside."
Kind Robert rolled his eyes dramatically. "Really, Peter, what news today? Another cow give birth to twin calves?"
Peter sighed. He was really so much more competent than the King gave him credit for. He knew that he was the best spy that the King had and that the King should acknowledge him for the skills he possessed. Someday, someday, oh wonderful someday, Peter would get his wish and would become head of all the messengers and then, eventually, he would become the head of the King's secret police. And then Peter might have proved himself enough to become Sir Peter of the Operating Table. Peter turned away for a moment so he could roll his eyes without the King seeing. "Great King Robert, I have news of Sir Marcus."
The King's eyes narrowed and his forehead reddened. How he hated his former best friend! "What news, Peter?" He growled, "I hate that Sir Marcus!"
Peter nodded solemnly. If the King hated the rogue knight, that meant that every loyal subject in the kingdom, Peter included, hated Sir Marcus. Bowing his head, he began, "Bad news, sire. He and his band of serfs have kidnapped the beautiful Lady Lizzie from the land of England! She journeyed across a large ocean to see you, Your Highness. News travels fast, Sire, so she'd heard of your victories and your impressive Operating Table and had wanted to meet you for herself."
Robert's eyes narrowed. So, Sir Marcus had kidnapped a lady now. How low did he stoop? A lady, for God's sake! Did that man have no upbringing? If this was what it took for a final, head to head, battle to the death tournament with Sir Marcus, then so be it! "Peter," he bellowed, "find me Sir Marcus. Get him here! I need to be rid of this damned menace to society once and for all! This time, the rogue's stooped too low!"
Peter nodded in assent, though finding Sir Marcus was easier said than done. Peter would do his best, though, even if the horrible outlaw knight took his life. That was the job of a secret messenger, and he had known it when he had accepted the job. But Peter knew that his life was a small loss if King Robert could rid Chicago of the horrible menace, Sir Marcus.