Dante hung suspended over the castle courtyard, his rebellious ramyeon locks twisted around a weathervane like a noodle themed pole. Below, a crowd of servants and siblings had gathered to watch the spectacle.
"LET ME DOWN, YOU TRAITOROUS PASTA!" he wailed, clawing at his scalp.
His hair responded by spelling out words mid-air.
"OBEY THE BROTH."
Lucien adjusted his glasses, fascinated.
"Remarkable. Your follicles have developed sentient loyalty to a soup cult."
"NOT HELPING, LUCIEN!"
...
Sir Clanksalot and his armored rebels stormed the royal vault, their hollow chest plates clanking with revolutionary fervor.
"SPOONS OF THE WORLD, UNITE!" the suit of armor bellowed, kicking open the doors.
Inside, the kingdom's most precious cutlery gleamed under torchlight, painted in rosy colors soup ladles, diamond-encrusted steak knives, and the legendary Sauce Spoon of Saint Béchamel.
Theo sprinted after them, panting.
"Guys, c'mon! You can't just—"
A gauntlet clapped over his mouth.
"Hush, small human," Sir Clanksalot intoned. "This is a dignified coup."
From the shadows, Whiskerton observed, tail flicking.
"I'll allow it... if they tribute me the tuna-serving fork."
…..
Selphina sat slumped in her cell, the Jewel of Umami glowing cheerfully in her lap.
"Admit it. You miss mangoes." The Jewel said.
"I miss silence." Selphina replied with great annoyance.
The Jewel projected another memory.
Seraphina, younger and softer, handing her the last slice of mango during a storm.
"You're my twin. Not the sea's."
Selphina's fingers trembled.
"…Shut up."
The door creaked open. Seraphina stood there, holding two mangoes.
"Still hate me?"
Selphina snatched a mango and bit down hard.
"Yes."
…..
Seraphina returned to the nursery, chili oil dripping from the pacifier.
"Happy now?"
Evangeline popped it into her mouth…
…and spit fire. Literally.
WHOOOSH!
The nursery curtains went up in flames.
Whiskerton from the doorway said. "…I'll allow that, too."
…..
Chef Gerard stood atop the roof, Dante's hair now woven into a living throne beneath him.
"BRING ME THE PACIFIER," he commanded, broth-black tears streaming down his face. "OR I'LL SEASON THE SKY SALTY."
The clouds darkened. Rain began to fall, tasting distinctly of soy sauce.