Prologue: Tequila, Tropes, and the Twenty-Year-Old Toddler
The music at The Tipsy Quill was a pulsating wall of sound, but it was nothing compared to Elara's indignation. She slammed her third margarita onto the sticky table, narrowly missing Nikki's phone.
"It's a template! A literal Fiktok tragedy!" Elara shrieked. She brandished a crumpled paperback like a weapon. "I'm telling you, this novel is a logistical nightmare. It's like the author went to the 'Standard Fantasy Man' factory and pressed copy-paste four times."
Nikki and Chloe leaned in, already howling. Elara stood up, wobbling slightly, and sucked in her cheeks to look "innocent." She gripped her margarita glass with both hands like a terrified squirrel and let her lower lip tremble violently.
"Watch, this is her," Elara squeaked in a high-pitched, breathy voice. "'Oh, Pwince Alawic! Rosalia's wittle toesies are cold because the mean floor touched them! Rosalia doesn't understand what a 'contract' is... is it a type of cake? Can I pwease have a dwi-hink? But the ice cubes look so lonely and cold! Wait! Don't dwink it! You're dwo-hining the ice babies!!'"
Elara collapsed back onto her stool, feigning a dramatic sob. "She is twenty years old, guys! A two-decade-old human being with a legal ID and she's out here acting like she just escaped a playpen! Girl, you're twenty! Go to a Dollibee and get a Burger like a normal person!"
"Stop! I can't breathe!" Nikki wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes.
"And these guys!" Elara continued, gesturing to the book covers. "You've got the Blonde Prince with the Bad Attitude, the Duke of the North with the Red Eyes who probably eats ice cubes for breakfast, the Tan Merchant who is just a sentient ATM, and the Step-brother who needs a psychiatric evaluation. They all treat her like she's made of sugar glass! The only normal person is the Villainess, Lady Eris. If I were her, I'd have punted that 'child-woman' into the palace moat months ago!"
Elara reached for the book, but her hand met a strange, cold vibration. The neon "Open" sign flickered a violent violet. The smell of stale beer vanished, replaced by the suffocating scent of lilies and beeswax.
Thump.
The sound of a heavy gavel replaced the bar's bass. Elara swayed, her head swimming.
"Wait... Nikki? Did the DJ just play a gavel remix?" Elara blinked, reaching for her margarita. Her hand hit cold, carved marble. She looked down. Instead of her denim jacket, she was encased in a midnight-blue velvet gown with a corset so tight she felt like a squeezed tube of toothpaste.
"Lady Eris!" a voice thundered.
Elara's head snapped up. She wasn't at the bar. She was in a massive, circular courtroom. On a raised dais sat the four "Copy-Pastes."
To her left, the Crown Prince was cradling Rosalia, who was tucked into his chest. Rosalia looked up, her eyes glistening.
"E-Eris…" Rosalia whimpered, clutching a lace handkerchief. "I'm sorry I accidentally wore your family heirloom... I just thought the diamonds looked so… so sad in the box! They wanted to be free!"
Immediately, the four men moved like a synchronized SWAT team. The Prince stepped in front of Rosalia, hand on his sword. The Duke's red eyes glowed, turning the air five degrees colder. The Merchant King narrowed his eyes, and the Step-brother hissed from directly behind Elara's ear.
"Back away, you viper!" the Prince spat, shielding the sobbing girl. "Your very presence terrifies her!"
Elara looked at the twenty-year-old woman hiding behind the Prince's cape, then back at the men. The tequila courage was still humming in her veins.
"Wait, wait, wait," Elara said, holding up a hand. "I know this bit. I literally just did this parody at the bar." She looked at Rosalia.
"Seriously? The 'diamonds were sad' line? That's what we're going with? You're twenty! Use your core muscles, stand up, and stop leaking from your face! Those diamonds cost three provinces, and you 'freed' them? That's grand larceny, you absolute Fiktok-trope!"
The Prince's jaw dropped. The Duke's mist-breath hitched.
"And you?" Elara snapped at the blonde Prince. "If you like the crying so much, buy her a pacifier and get out of my face."
The Villainess hadn't just arrived. She was officially done with the template.