I found my unfinished NaNoWriMo fic.
Is it worth continuing?

"Warning/Prologue:
This is not a fairytale.
For one, fairytales have happy endings, and princes and moral values and defeating if the bad guy. This will not happen here. If this bothers you, leave now.
There are still people here? Alright, let’s begin.
Chapter 1
Sandshire was an ordinary kingdom. There were the farmers, the peasants, the knights and nobles. There was nothing out of place in this middle-aged landscape.
The ruler of this pleasant country was King Edmund Arthur Louis Francis the 10th of the house of Artemisia. He prefers to be called Ed. Now King Ed thought it was strange that nothing weird had ever happen in his kingdom. There were no dragons running amok, no evil wizards with power and/or vengeance on their minds, and no long- lost heirs to the family throne. His wife, Queen Anemone, insisted that he stop prattling on about nothing and come back to bed. His advisors had begun to think him paranoid. And his mother claimed her son was simply having demented fantasies.
It’s only fitting, then, that the birth of King Ed’s and Queen Anemone’s first child would change everything.
While I myself have never been around a pregnant woman for a long period of time, I hear it’s a dreadful experience. Oh, when the child is born there is nothing to be regretful of, but if one is a little over 9 months along, and the child is due any day, but won’t come…well, the stress is sure to be high.
“Eddddddd…..”
Particularly if one is the father of said unborn child.
“KING EDMUND ARTHUR LOUIS FRANCIS THE 10th OF THE HOUSE OF ARTEMISIA!!!”
Poor Ed. He only been asked to do something very simple—give his kingdom an heir—and he did as best has he could(while having a lot fun doing so, in his defense.)
“What is she yelling at you for this time, sire?”Asked Jacob, one of the many advisors to the king. “Did she hear about one of your ‘whaling jokes’?”
Ed clutched his brow in frustration. “No. And you I’ve stopped telling those after what happened last time.” Jacob winced at the reference. “I believe it has something to do with pickles.”
“…Pickles, your majesty?”
“Well, we were eating together in the great hall, and discussing the visit from the ambassador of Belle. So I mentioned that they often use pickles in Belleisn cooking, and, for reasons beyond me, she goes ‘Does this mean you don’t like the cooking here? Even though it’s done by your subjects, without whom you would have no power??’ Then she begins crying about how I’m a turncoat to my own nation, and why am I even king anyway, and then she begins to throw things at me!! For no reason at all!!”
“Would that have to do with why we are hiding in the stables, your majesty?”
Ed gave him a somewhat frightful glare. “We are not hiding, Jacob. We are simply having a private conversation.” He sighed. “I shall head to the local village, at least until Anemone no longer has the mindset of a murderous beast.”
“I shall use the usual excuse, your majesty.” Muttered Jacob, wondering how he could keep the Queen from killing him. Her Majesty Queen Anemone was not a Murderess by any means- ordinarily the thought would be laughable. Lately, due to the hormonal state of the Queen now possessed there were many doubts being place- mostly in the form of bets made by the castle servants.


Outside the central city, the farmer’s carts that carried the yearly harvest had begun to arrive. The market was thriving, sellers were calling, and ridiculous prices were being fought over. It was the perfect place for one to disappear.
This was hardly how Kitty had planned to spend her harvest, but after the incident with the duck and the witch hunter, out of sight and out of mind was the best place to be. Yet still she was bored. A life of crops and cleaning was belittling to talent of witchcraft-particularly a student of the great Merrill Salazar himself- and oh, these people would be so easy to prank.
“Cross! Send another round of lagers to table 3!”
“And it would be so easy to turn her into a toad, and leave her in a pond somewhere.” Muttered Kitty as she raised the glasses, and took them to their separate owners. "

Good? Bad? Deserves to be dumped in a vat of acid?