The White King was lost on the Battlefield. His army was decimated, and he was living only because of the quick thinking of a Parcel Mistress. He wandered the white and black checkered land, stained with blood and spotted with oases and burnt trees. Then, he saw something unusual in the distance. A black figure, a Dersite no doubt, but a purplish, pinkish figure as well. The Dersite, undoubtedly a devilish and incredibly evil cur, was chasing the poor girlishly colored figure, and... neither of their feet touched the ground?
The White King began taking large steps towards the two figures. Soon, he saw that it was in fact Bec Noir, the fearsome, flying, regicidal dog-god. And what he was chasing was actually a sprite, or more specifically, Jaspersprite, the sprite of the grandiose Seer of Light. Would she still be able to save the world if the Kingdom of Light had lost? Without the Prospitians to guide her to full realization of her powers, and no other literally-white characters to help her that he could see, she would be as cloudy-eyed as the many prophecies warned against.
However, it was clear that, cloudy-eyed or not, she would become misty-eyed if anything happened to her beloved sprite. And so, the White King grabbed hold of Bec Noir, even though the flying dog-god simply phased out of his grip to try to attack at a new angle, leaving the White King holding a small scrap of pink and orange fabric with a small black spade in the corner.
However, he simply moved around to protect Jaspersprite from another angle. After a few low sweeping runs, Bec Noir gave up. He gently landed and decided to talk to the White King.
"Listen, tubby, I don't know where my knife fell, and my jaws aren't big enough to bite your fat head clean off, but I can put you in a world of hurt."
"Say what you want, threaten me all you like, but you're not hurting the precious dead cat slash octopus slash princess sprite behind me."
"I don't think it's even possible for me to hurt it. That dumb thing can phase through walls, right? How could anything I do hurt it?"
"Then why on earth were you trying to hurt him?"
"Look, he's a part-cat and I'm a part-dog. You cannot fucking blame me. Now get the fuck out of the way."
Bec Noir's claws found the White King's neck and squeezed hard.
"I'll be taking my kitty-cat now."
As expected, Bec Noir's claws tried to sink into the sprite's semi-body, and as expected, it was like cutting through jell-o, or maybe warm butter. Then he tried biting it, only to find it tasted like mucus.
The White King had, quite unexpectedly, stayed behind as a ghost. "I hope you're happy with yourself," he said.