As Emperor, I canβt have any of those βflawβ things!
[ another flashback / Heβs about 11/12 here ]
Tense, judgy faces stare back at him from across the room, each expression more hard and unyielding than the last. Yzma is amongst them, sitting at the end of the table with a look of cold disinterest on that ancient, wrinkled face of hers that only she could be capable of. βItβs an outrage! He canβt go out like this.β She spits with venom in her voice as she gestures at him before turning to face the council member directly opposite of her.
βWhat will the peasants think? That our Emperor, a descendant of Inti, is unable to tend to himself for an hour alone outside, even with the assistance of royal aid? That he goes out looking for fights? How can they think someone so careless can rule the Kingdom?!β
Low murmurs of agreement sound around the table, and Kuzco casts his gaze towards the floor in an uncharacteristic display of shyness, with one of his hands coming up to rub his opposite arm. He can feel the Royal Records Keeperβs presence behind him, along with the nanny who had been tasked to keep track of him, and the scribe who is transcribing this entire ordeal. In a room full of people, he feels completely alone as the council talks amongst themselves about what they should do with him.
Kuzco had tried to defend himself earlier, insisting that it wasnβt the nannyβs fault and that he purposely got away from her, but how could he have possibly known what would happen if he went into the city on his own when heβs always been kept safe to the point of mundane boredom within the confines of the palace. Almost immediately the council shut him down, their faces stoic as they told him in no uncertain terms that she had been tasked with the responsibility of keeping an eye on him and that this entire mess was her fault.
From the moment he was old enough to speak, Kuzco has had it beat into his head that he was the next in line for the throne; the true Emperor, set to take over the Kingdom as soon as he came of age with his father missing from the picture. It wasnβt until he hit double digits that the true grooming began, and all of his time began to be spent undergoing lessons, rituals and meetings to prepare him for his inevitable future role. Like any adolescent, Kuzco found it hard to focus and preferred to be on his own, especially if it meant being outside. He regularly threw fits when a meeting went on for too long, or he started to get tired of listening to Yzma overseeing the peasant complaints and trying to follow along. It was necessary, of courseβ one day it would be him on that throne, but it was sooooo boring.
Yzma never had any issue giving him what he wanted if it meant getting him out of her old lady hair, ordering nannies to keep him busy so she could uphold her agenda for the day. As long as he was content and more importantly NOT her problem, she was happyβ and so, he had learned early on not to bother her with aimless requests, and instead found his way around curfews and pestered the nannies into letting him do what he wanted when he could get away with it.
Which is exactly how he had ended up in this mess.
In a droning, uninterested tone, the Royal Scribe had been going over the βscheduleβ for the day, what meetings or lessons he has, when he will need to meet with Yzma to discuss what she plans to do with a new tax (that he ultimately has final say on, even though he understands exactly NOTHING about it) and the upcoming plans for the festivities taking place in a local village. Something about a potato growing contest? No thank you. Kuzco decided rather quickly after that, that he would rather put pins in his eyes and had waited only as long as it took for the scribe to leave to sneak out of the room, and then the palace. Warm, somewhat balmy early morning air greets him as he first steps outside, and Kuzco takes a moment to breathe it in while he contemplates his options. Complete and total freedom is at his fingertips, thereβs a whole Kingdom to explore without the guards trailing him or official matters to bore him to tears and he intends on enjoying it to the fullest.
Despite how often heβs been seen in public with Yzma and boasted about as the future Emperor, very few people take notice of him as he finds his way into the Imperial city, and starts to wander through the busy city streets. Peasants sell their wares, haggling with each other over everything from pottery and foods to farm animals, and Kuzco is in awe as he watches them and takes in all of the intricately designed items for sale. The occasional person turns to their neighbor to whisper about the unaccompanied child, but he pays them no mind and for the most part is left alone. Itβs his first time in the city, and one of the first times in his life he isnβt the center of attention, and the longer he can keep it that way, the better.
Kuzco watches as a fight between two peasants breaks out over a llama, and he stares openly at them as their raised voices turn into flying fists and a scuffle that quickly becomes reckless. While other peasants cleared the way for them as they threw each other around the street, Kuzco moves closerβ which is exactly how he ended up slammed into a wall himself, with a hit to the face by an arrant elbow that will most certainly cause a darkening bruise and open a small cut above his eye. Two female peasants gasp and rush forward to pull him away before he can be pulled back into the brawl, but thatβs the exact moment that the Royal Guard appears, and β recognizing Kuzco immediatelyβ head straight to his side to pull him away from the confrontation themselves.
Lips twist in a grimace as he struggles and fails to hold back the sobs threatening to escape him from the pain, and his hands press over his face to hide his injury from the guards who try to check him over. It must be obvious who he is at that point, as the peasants fighting stop to stare, and the few that were rushing to his aid all take several steps back and away to give them space. Before he can so much as give any of them another passing glance, heβs being whisked away to the palace by the guards to tend to his injuries and resume his Royal duties for the day.
One visit from the Royal Healer later for a few bandages and some salve, and Kuzco is back in his robes and standing before the council, wringing his hands as he awaits his judgment. It isnβt fair that the nanny is being punished for his insolence, but heβs hardly in a position (at least, in this current moment) to argue with the council who is already disappointed in him.
βKuzco!β Yzmaβs shrill voice cuts through his thoughts like a knife, and Kuzco blinks himself back to awareness as he stares up at her. βYou cannot behave like this. Do you understand? As Emperor, it is imperative that you appear to be perfect to your constituents at ALL times. You are a descendant of the Sun God; that makes YOU a God, and Godβs do not have weaknesses, or imperfections!β
He swallows and nods his head, wincing when the movement makes his head ache and dutifully ignores the murmurings from the council at the table. βI need an answer Kuzco; DO you understand?β
βYes, Yzma. I get it.β
Yzma scowls, folding her spindly arms over her chest rolls her eyes in annoyance. βVery well. Go get cleaned up; you will NOT be able to make your appearances today with that bruise on your face, but I expect you to be ready for your lessons later on. Go away now.β
Without another word Kuzco turns, huffing as he strides out of the room with a different set of servants trailing behind him. At least he got out of seeing the winner of the stupid potato contest for the day. Next time, heβll make sure to plan it out a lot better.
