100-Word Fiction: ‘Toil and Trouble’

For my toils they will all feel trouble. Thrice those patchy pussycats mewed for my help. Those poisonous toads, serpents, yapping lazy dogs. Come drink from this charmed pot and see if you sleep so well. Within these pages is a hell-broth; for I make powerful magic. My trickery prophesied all – the spell was cast long ago, but you did not see. You two, the king and the prince, had always murdered victory. One of you too sure, the other so uncertain, with true power not secured. But I will not be the ghost at a feast. So, read on…