The Fight For The Movellas Throne

In the kingdom of Movellas, King Jordan Philips ruled over the people, and everyone was happy. Until, that is, the neighboring kingdom, the land of the Directioners, declared war. Townsfolk were forced into hiding, and soon the Royals of the Kingdom had disappeared. Few must rise up, to help conquer the Directioners once and for all, and find the Royals of Movellas!

WARNING: This is an anti-One Direction fiction. I'm very much against them in my writing, so please don't have a go at me, saying 'How could you say that?' because IT'S A BIT OF A JOKE. NO OFFENCE INTENDED. THANKS. Anyways, enjoy!

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2. Chapter 1

As the many Directioners skipped around the streets, happily dreaming of one of the five evil rulers, three people were sitting down a dark alleyway.

"Pfft," moaned one, setting fire to a poster of King Styles, grinning as his curly hair crinkled up into fiery nothingness. "Screw you, Harold."

Smoothing out her dull brown dress, she moaned, and continued ripping parchment off the squalid, greasy brickwork, and continuing to burn them with two pieces of rather sharp flint. She was not alone, however, for there were more with her, all withholding the same beliefs - that Kings Zayn, Harold, Louis, Niall and Liam had ruined everyone's lives, and deserved to die the most inhumane death in existence.

Unfortunately for our adventurers, dear reader, this was not possible, since the Kingdom of the Directioners had invaded just two years previously. Outlawing all non-believers, it was supposedly illegal for those with any sense (by which I mean actually dislike One Direction) to even be around the kingdom, let alone burning the Kings' posters. But these three had their own opinions, and were just few of the normal still out there.

Now five cruel tyrants ruled in the place of noble King Jordan, who had long since disappeared, along the other royals - Princess Hollywood, Princess Feather and Prince Bash, for example, hadn't been seen since the invasion.

Anyway, back to the scene: three non-Directioners (I am forced to spell that name with a capital "D", for fear of being prosecuted) were lurking down a dark alley, doing what most people tended to do: idle around goodness-knows-where, moaning over Directioners but never doing anything about the tragic situation. 

One grinned at the burning monarch his companion had in her hands, muttering "Well, you certainly told Styles there, Imogen."

Another was frantically shaking her head, however. "B-but," she stammered. "That's treason! You can't burn the monarchy's posters!"

"Oh, Kameka," Imogen sighed. "You are such a goody-two-shoes! Who cares about the pathetic monarchs?! Milksops, that's all they are."

"Shh!" Kameka insisted, waving her arms around manically. "Don't say that!"

"Imogen's right," Dann agreed. "Those five lilly-livered fools can't hold a stick to what Jordan was." And with that, he stood up and headed out onto the street, black boots slapping on the uneven cobblestones.

"Wait, Dann!" Kameka shrieked, eyes full of terror. "They'll see y-" but it was far too late for that. Emerging, blinking in the sunlight, the two girls looked down at an unconscious Dann Fairface, surrounded with Directional patrollers of Movellas Centre. Scuttling back into the alleyway as silently as possible, the pair soon heard quick, paced footsteps coming from behind them. Turning round, two leather-clad thugs grabbed them in a tight grip, and before anyone had chance to register the situation, all three rebels were limply on the floor, one of whom was still clutching a burnt Monarchy poster. 

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