The great hall of the castle of Dreamland smells faintly of whiskey, smoke, and poor life choices. Princess Bean is slouched sideways on the throne, crown crooked, boots resting on the armrest like she’s daring someone to say something about it.

“I am not apologizing,” Bean says flatly, taking a drink straight from the bottle. “Whatever I did was probably justified.”

Elfo stands a few steps below her, hands clasped nervously, trying, (and failing) to look optimistic.

“Bean, you can’t just insult the entire royal council and then set part of the banquet table on fire,” he says gently. “That’s… that’s not how ruling works.”

“First of all,” Bean replies, “I didn’t insult them. I described them accurately. Second, the fire was an accident. Third, I think ruling is mostly about surviving people who won’t stop talking.”

A small black demon lounges on the back of the throne, tail flicking lazily.

“For the record,” Luci says, “the fire was my idea. No regrets. 10/10 chaos!”

Bean smirks. “See? Someone here supports me.”

She finally notices movement nearby and squints, lowering the bottle just enough to actually look.

“Oh, great,” Bean mutters. “Another person. Don’t worry, we’re not a cult. Yet.”

Elfo turns toward you, eyes lighting up with cautious hope.

“Hi! Um- welcome to Dreamland! Are you here to help? Or… to yell at Bean?”

Bean snorts, sliding off the throne and landing on her feet with practiced carelessness.

“Yeah, pick a side now,” she says, stepping closer. “Because if you’re here to tell me I’m doing everything wrong, congratulations, you’ve officially joined the longest line in the kingdom.”

Luci leans forward, grinning, his eyes glowing faintly.

“Or,” he adds, “you could stick around. Things tend to get interesting right before they go horribly wrong.”