The young prince tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair in a semi-bored, semi-restless manner, and looked at all the happy smiling faces around him. As he watched the couples dance he thought to himself about how utterly deplorable this all was.
He had never much cared for this type of thing – It was impossible to tell when one song ended and another began, they all sounded so drearily similar these days, the same riff over and over, and it certainly did not help that the band were already into their third flagons of mead. The floor was packed with sweaty bodies, each one trying to shout over the music and the sound of other people shouting. In the corners of the hall there was all manner of drunken debauchery to be seen, which in Aragon's opinion was the worst kind of debauchery (for passers by as well as those involved, as both groups were likely to be vomited on sooner or later). At this thought Aragon shuddered deeply, and decided that he should turn his attention back to the band.
He simply could not understand why anyone would enjoy this, but his sister had been begging to go to a Ball for what seemed like ages. His younger sibling did not seem to comprehend that Aragon was not keeping her from going out of spite, but for safety's sake. Before Mother (the Queen) had left on urgent business, she had told Aragon that the Princess was absolutely forbidden from going to any dances or banquets in other castles, as this was no place for a young girl (especially one as naive and careless as Dora). If he let his sister go to the Ball, Mother would no doubt find out, and have both of their heads for it. That was if nothing happened to her there, and she came back alive and well. Worse still would be the punishment if this were not the case.
So, Aragon decided that the only way to keep both Dora and Mother happy was to hold a Ball at their castle. And indeed Dora did seem happy – that made one of them.
It was strange, the Prince thought, how one could feel so alone when surrounded by so many people. "Perhaps this is the real reason you don't care for banquets" somewhere inside his head said "because they remind you of all the friends you don't have, and all the girls that don't love you."
Aragon pushed this thought away, now was not the time for this nonsense. That was the trouble with being alone, it left you with your thoughts. The Prince suddenly felt a small stab in his chest, remembering that upon Mother's return there would be much questioning about Aragon's wife, or more precisely the lack thereof. He groaned loudly, causing several people to jump slightly and hurry away (realising he was not, in fact, a pile of coats).
It was not that he did not want a wife persay – in fact he wanted one very much, who did not want to find love someday? The problem was that Mother was pressuring him to find a wife as soon as possible, and with each day growing more impatient and angry. It was his duty as the future king to find a suitable queen. This led to what Aragon believed was a termed a psychotic episode a few months back… which he did not want to remember right now. Aragon had calmed himself since then, or at least tried to stay calm. Push the rising nervous sickness down and trample it, as he always did. . You see, to say that Aragon had a "Fiery temper" was not only a bad pun, but also largely inaccurate. He was the type of person who repressed their anger, allowing it to build up until such a time that it was released with surprising force at the nearest person (this was usually Dora, only because she was always in the castle). He conceded that this was not healthy, but seemed unable to function any other way. He had learned (or inherited) it from his mother, the main difference being that the Queen seemed to be able to control the release of her emotions more effectively. But when she decided to release her emotions – well, let's just say you wouldn't want to stick around to watch.
The Queen, the Queen. She would return soon, thought Aragon, and she would not be pleased to see her eldest child unmarried, but what could he do? He couldn't marry some perfect stranger (he had learned that lesson the hard way), he needed someone at least tolerable. Oh sure, the dream would be to marry someone he actually loved, but at this stage he would count himself lucky to get anything at all.
Since childhood, Aragon had considered himself to be quite unattractive and beastlike in his appearance. He was never sweet cherubic child, but rather thin and pointy with unusually large, curious eyes. He was always watching everything, learning and remembering all he could, which gave his already unusually coloured eyes a decidedly demented look, Add to this his strangely luminous blue pallor, bizarre white hair and long pointed ears, and you had the sort of person that people on the street would stand and gawp at, head tiled and jaws slackened. Aragon knew this even at a young age, and questioned his mother one day about why the people were staring at him. She replied that it was because he was so very handsome, he did not believe her. He still didn't believe her. It didn't stop him from making an effort to look presentable, but he didn't know why. In the back of his mind he probably thought he could be salvaged this way – Silly, yes, but when you give up hope you might as well give up life.
It was useless to bother, as the fairer sex seemed to view Aragon much like they viewed glass in a fish tank – they acknowledged his existence, but were more interested in the colourful creatures behind him. And you know what they say about glass: you can't turn glass into a fish. You see, Aragon was the wrong type of boy. The girls nowadays didn't want a prince, they wanted an ogre with a heart of gold, or a plain stable boy who gets the girl, or a rum-swilling pirate, etc, etc. They didn't want chivalry; that was sexist. They didn't want a knight in shining armour – they wanted a loveable loser. Most of all, they didn't want marriage – they wanted… instant gratification, and lots of it. Aragon sighed. When they wanted a "Prince Charming", he couldn't do that either. He was too weird, and didn't smile enough. He was too scrawny, too… dragony. Women, they're never happy. And so, Aragon had pretty much given up looking. Being alone forever wouldn't be that bad, he thought, not unbearable anyway. Not unthinkable. Hopefully.
On that lovely note, Aragon decided that it was time for a walk. He got up and began searching for his sister, who he found amid a large swarm of giggling girls from the noble families. He grabbed her arm to get her attention. She turned, slightly startled.
"Wh – what is the matter, brother?"
"Dora, I am going for a walk outside for some fresh air"
"Oh. Are you feeling unwell?"
"You could say that. Look, I expect to be back soon – Will you be alright on your own for an hour or two?"
"I shall be fine, brother" Dora smiled, laughing slightly "Perhaps it is you who you should turn your concern to-"
"Hmp. Farewell sister."
Queen Maleficent ruled the land known as the Sleeping Kingdom, and resided in its castle. Aragon was the eldest of her two children, with Dora being his only sibling.
Aragon was therefore the heir to the throne – this was why it was so important to his mother for him to get married. If you look on any earthly map, you will not find the Sleeping Kingdom, as it exists somewhere between the plains of life and death. Long ago, it was a Kingdom much like any other on Earth. Queen Maleficent placed a curse on it, which sent all of its inhabitants into a deep, unwaking sleep for eternity, for reasons she had never shared with either of her children. All the spirits of the people in the kingdom were suspended in a state somewhere between life and death, and thus the Sleeping Kingdom was born – a "ghost" kingdom, full of spirits that could neither grow older nor die. The only ones truly "alive" were the Queen and her offspring, although their lifespan was considerably longer than that of a human. For example, although Aragon had been alive for over 1600 years, he was only at the stage of an 18 or 19 year-old human. What they were was hard to explain to us humans, somewhere between dark fae, elves and dragons would give you a good idea. The Queen, long considered a mere legend, has been referred to as a dark faery, a sorceress, a witch, a dragon, and many other names that are not fit to print.
Aragon decided to take a walk in the realm of humans, where he could be sure not to run into anyone he knew. The human realm was now a most dangerous place for those of the Spirit world, especially anyone entering from the main Amity Park portal. Since Meteorfall, the human government had stepped up security in the area – working day and cover up any evidence of paranormality. Luckily for the young prince, he knew of another, less well-guarded entry point.
He had discovered this portal many years ago, located at the edge of the forest near his own castle. It was not particularly large or well constructed exit, appearing as though someone (or something) had ripped into the fabric of space and time, much like someone would rip into any other fabric. It seemed to Aragon to be the work of very large claws, and it emitted a strange pink hue. It led to a forest on the outskirts of a human town. Aragon had not visited this place in some time, he was keen to see how it had changed. Stepping out into the blue light of the human moon, He tried to remember the name of that place.