The true wielder of the strings

Chapter 3: The king's true face

Barb didn't want to be queen.

The princess of rock lied on her queen-sized bed with Debbie, her pet bat, sleeping on her stomach. They were both waiting for her father, who wanted to speak to her. No, Barb didn't want to be queen. Not yet anyway.

It wasn't because she feared hard work, or responsibility. As the king's daughter, she had been preparing for that since she was a child. And it wasn't as if being queen would cut too much into her rocking sessions with her personal group. Hell, if anything, she looked forward to being able to make major decisions for her kingdom. She already had a handful of ideas. Of course, Barb would run them by Artina first, but the decisions would ultimately be hers.

Barb was too young to remember, but according to her father, Artina had been his absolute right-hand troll since before she was born. When their people were in crisis, it was her ideas and inventions that had saved them. The anglerbus, the shocker spears, and many others. Growing up beside them both, Barb started to view Artina as… well maybe "mother" was too strong a word. She was more like a very caring older sister.

Artina would also tell Barb stories sometimes. About her time in the troll tree, about the nice old woman that she met there, the son she had to leave behind, and when she was older, the terrible story of what one of those Pop trolls did to her.

It never ceased to make Barb angry when she thought about the terrible treatment her people got from the other tribes. Almost all other troll races had a negative opinion of them. So much so that whenever a troll of a different race rolled in the dirt with one of them, if they ended up with an egg, they'd just drop them off at the VRC orphanage, never to come back. They weren't racist from the waist down, it seemed.

But Pop trolls, those glittery fucks believed themselves to be above all other trolls. History being proof of this when they attempted to steal all of the magical strings so that only their music remained, leaving everyone else with nothing but silence. They thought themselves so superior, so much better, that they went into self isolation, disappearing for more than 20 years. Not wishing to even be affiliated with any other troll races.

And when Artina had eventually tracked them down, their king couldn't be bothered to schedule an audience with them. Not even so Artina could see her fucking son. What was his name? Spruce? Bark? It had something to do with a tree. Stupid Pop trolls with their stupid names.

If it had been up to Barb, they'd have busted into that happy little forest, and demanded they turn Artina's son over. And what could King Peppy have done about it? Jack shit, that's what.

Barb's only issue with becoming queen now is that it would mean her father was giving up.

Barb sighed, age hadn't been kind to King Thrash. His declining health started maybe a year ago. His back was so bad that he needed a cane just to move around now, and he'd almost completely lost hearing in his left ear, requiring a hearing aid. And that was just his physical health. Sometimes he'd ask the same questions over and over again. Other times, he would forget the names of everyday objects, and sometimes, he would confuse one troll for another. One time, the king had even confused Barb for her deceased mother.

Taking the throne now meant that her father had lost all hope of ever getting better. Though truthfully, Thrash had accepted this reality some time ago, along with advisor Artina. Even the majority of her people were expecting Barb to be made queen any day now. Seemed like the only one who wasn't ready to accept this was her.

Barb slowly sat up when she heard her door open. As expected, it was her father Thrash, walking on his silver skull-topped cane, a serious look on his face. Barb sat Debbie on the bed as he approached her. She could tell by the way he moved that this would be one of his good days.