#no beta we die like my ability to write anything that isn't CATS

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The One Where Munkustrap Tells A Story

Hello! I'm back with another short fic because I wanted to do something small celebrating 100 posts lol

It was a quiet evening, and for once Munkustrap was free. The preparations for the upcoming Ball were going smoothly— for once. He’d promised the kittens a story if they danced all their parts more or less flawlessly, and they had. And so he found himself outside the nursery, a story in mind. 

“Tell us a new one!” Carbucketty demanded as soon as he stepped inside. Munk chuckled and put his paw on his chin, pretending to think hard.

“Why, I think I’ve told you all the stories I know already!” He exclaimed. A loud clamour of protests broke out, catching the attention of cats outside the nursery. Many of them who had no other obligations that evening settled down to listen in, and some of the older cats chuckled. Nonetheless, they too eventually got sucked into the tale— Munkustrap really was a Storyteller like none of them had ever seen or heard tell of.

Back in the nursery, the grey protector had raised his paws in surrender. “Alright, alright!” he exclaimed, laughing. “I have a story.” He sat with his back against the wall and instructed the kittens —including the older ones, who apparently didn’t think themselves above his storytelling yet— to sit in a semicircle around him. Cettie, Electra, Olivia and Tabbygirl were competing for the place closest to Bill Bailey, who for once was looking irritated at their attention and plonked himself down next to Tumblebrutus, Carbucketty and Misto. Pouncival, as usual, was sitting the furthest away and slightly elevated, on a large shelf. Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie slipped in the entrance and sat by Victoria and Quaxo, the latter of whom was shaking his head at whatever substance Sillabub had gotten on her paws. Jemima had somehow ended up in Munkustrap’s lap. Socrates, Plato and Victor were nowhere to be seen. Jellylorum and Hysperia began to hush the chattering.

“Once upon a time, in a land not too far away, lived a princess named—”

“Was she pretty, Dad?” Sillabub interrupted, tapping his shoulder. At least three “Shushes!” rang out.

“Yes, Sillabub, she was the most beautiful princess to have ever lived. But she was no ordinary princess, and her name was—”

“Why wasn’t she ordinary? And why is the story about a yucky princess? Why can’t it be about pirates?” Another interruption, this time from Tumblebrutus, who was scrunching up his nose at the prospect of a story about a beautiful princess. More kittens hissed at him to be quiet.

“Because the last story was about pirates, Tumble,” Munkustrap explained patiently, “And if you’d let me finish one sentence, you’ll find out why she’s no ordinary princess.” The patched kitten muttered an apology and the story continued.

“Her name was… Victoria!” The queenkitten of the same name burst into giggles, as did the rest of the gathered cats. The grey tom smiled. “Her name was Victoria, and she was no ordinary princess, for you see, she wasn’t really a princess—”

Several small and intrigued gasps echoed around the den. “She was an archer, and she was working with the famous outlaw known as Robin Hood, who’s real name, though few knew it, was in fact… Mungojerrie!” Snickering broke out, and the storyteller swept on. 

“Robin Hood had a sidekick, who became known as Little John. His real name was Pouncival.” The story continued, and more cats gathered to listen as Munkustrap's voice rose and became almost spellbinding, seeming to dance in and out of one’s ears and whirl around in the breeze, the laughter and gasping of the kittens as the music in the background. Though his voice was solo as he reached the climax, what with the kittens holding their breath in anticipation.

“Victoria had no other choice but to trust Mungojerrie,” Munk said, his voice hushed, “The fire was growing larger and wilder by the minute. So she leapt out the window.” More gasps broke out, and if there was a tear or two rolling down Electra’s face, well, no-cat noticed. 

“Down, down, down she fell, all 30 tail lengths of the drop! Victoria closed her eyes and braced herself, waiting, but—! Mungojerrie caught her in the nick of time! ‘Let’s go, Pouncival!’ he yelled and they clambered into the cart and took off into the night! The phoney king was defeated and the gold he’d stolen was returned to the people. The good king returned and, upon learning what had gone on in his absence, declared that the faux princess, Robin Hood and Little John were no longer outlaws, and instead were heroes!” 

A series of groans emerged from the kittens as they realised what the next line of the story would be.

“Then, they all lived happily ever after,” Munkustrap finished, giving as best a small bow as he could while sitting on the floor with Sillabub nearly asleep in his arms. 

“Why didn’t Mungojerrie and Victoria k-k-kiss at the end?” Etcetera queried through a yawn. The real Victoria made a face of disgust. “Gross! I’d never kiss Mungojerrie!” Mungojerrie stuck his tongue out at her. 

“It’s just a story. But now—” Munkustrap heaved himself up as best he could, awkwardly shifting the now-sleeping Sillabub onto the arm that hadn’t gone dead, “—it’s time for bed.” 

As the adults inside the den set about getting the kittens to bed and actually sleep —“I can see you peeping at me, Rumple!”— the adults outside sat back to digest the story.

“He’s really something else,” Skimbleshanks said thoughtfully, scratching his chin in thought.

“Who, Straps?” Alonzo questioned the ginger tom, who nodded. “Well, it’s in his blood, isn’t it?” he stated, and went back to washing his paws. Well, it was obvious, wasn’t it? Everyone knew Old Deuteronomy was a storyteller too, though maybe not one quite so good as Munkustrap.

“Alonzo is right. Sure isn’t Tugger the same? All the young cats listen to him,” Jennyanydots said, looking up from her knitting.

“And Macavity,” Alonzo added in a low tone. Tension spread through the gathered cats at the mention of his name.

“Come now, Alonzo, we shan’t talk about him so close to the nursery,” Jenny said, looking back down to her knitting and shaking her head. 

“I daresay he has magic,” Skimble said into the lull. The others looked at him in confusion. “I remember hearing a tale once upon a time—”

“That all Jellicles have magic? Come on now, Skimble, you can’t tell me you believe an old legend like that?” Alonzo interrupted him drily. 

“I’m sceptical, of course. Though sometimes I wonder… Well, Hysperia knows more about this kind of thing.”

“Did someone say my name?” As if summoned, the brown tabby emerged from the entrance of the nursery and made her way over to them. Jenny greeted her warmly. 

“We were just discussing Munkustrap’s talent. Skimble here reckons he has magic.”

“You know more about magic than I do, Hyperia. What do you think?” the ginger tom in question asked her. 

“Ah,” Hysperia said heavily, settling herself down next to Jenny. “I was wondering when cats would begin to notice. I’m surprised it took so long, honestly.” Alonzo opened his mouth but Hysperia continued.

“Munkustrap is a gifted —very gifted— Storyteller. Essentially he can captivate an audience with ease. His voice is almost spellbinding, it draws the listener in. He could rally an army if he put his mind to it. Old Deuteronomy is also a Storyteller, but his skill is far surpassed by Munk’s. Gus, too, though he is stronger than Old Deuteronomy.”

The other cats digested this information. “What about Tugger?” Skimble asked. 

Hysperia chuckled. “Tugger has a different gift, though there is a similarity. Tugger has Charisma.” The others laughed, but Hysperia said, “I’m completely serious. It’s real magic. Though granted, his particular gift seems to have more of an effect on younger cats.” 

Alonzo shook his head, unconvinced. “I’ll believe you about Straps, and maybe Tugger, but there’s no way all Jellicles have magic.”

Hysperia gave a small smile. “Think about it. Look at the kittens, for example. Bill Bailey seems quite… charismatic, does he not? And have you ever noticed how Jerrie and Teazer always manage to get up to so much mischief whilst hardly ever facing the consequences? Darn good luck, I’d say. And doesn’t Pouncival always seem that bit… faster than the other kittens? Not to mention Mistoffelees and Jemima…”

Alonzo snorted. “Whatever kitten stories take your fancy, I suppose.” Hysperia just smiled again. 

“Well, I believe it anyhow,” Skimble said, cleaning his whiskers. 

“It’s a nice story, though I’m hesitant to believe it,” Jenny said, refocusing on her knitting. 

“Why, Jenny, you’re one of the more gifted ones!” the resident magic expert exclaimed in surprise. 

“How so?” 

“Take a look at all that you do with your mice and cockroach friends. Not everycat can do that, you know.”

“Please, dear, that’s just patience and a willingness to communicate,” Jenny chuckled. 

Hysperia smiled a knowing smile. “If you say so.”