THE ROTTEN APPLE
Prologue: Dynasty Decapitated
To achieve decapitation one must make certain to perform a complete separation of the head from the rest of the body.
It is instantly fatal since it deprives all other attached accessories of the unctions and leadership that are needed for the entity to operate.
In children's books, those meant only to entertain and distract the little monsters from pestering their parents much, there is this one ridiculous concept called 'A happy ever after', where the villains —or basically any form of interesting people— are defeated and the main characters run off into the sunset to continue their dull, simplistic lives in non-believable, never-ending bliss. A fairytale told entirely by the perspective of the definite wrong side. However, real life is nothing alike to those stories, that is not how the universe works. In reality, those stories, if ever true —ignoring all the blown out details and the false spins of significant actions— go on way after the happy endings, and deep into normal progression of events. Anything, no matter how chaste and splendid it seems in the whimsical magic of fantasy, turns stale in the garish, authentic light.
Thus, after most battles were over and kingdoms had been won, the damsels rescued and the world was plunged back into that dreadful peace, there was something to be done to maintain that hard-won harmony; and for the heroes, and royals, and mundane good fairies, that essentially meant rounding up every villain, sidekick or arch-nemesis they could find and banishing them into a place where they could not disturb their perfect little world ever again. Says a lot about the level of evil they were trying to contain for them to actually prefer staying sequestered inside their fortresses than crossing paths with any of them.
After a grand council, the heroic and well-known for their transcendent —absurd— love story: King Ben and Queen Harriet of the house Watson, were elected as sole monarchs and united all known magical locations resulting in the formation of what is now called The United Kingdom of Auradon; a land of good fortune, and bliss, where everyone is, if not completely happy, then at least extremely content, —the annoying idiots. After serving for only one week, the famous rulers issued their first proclamation, and somewhat thirteen sun-cycles ago to the day numerous armies and champions attacked every lair and cave until they were able to pluck out every sign and trace of villainy from 'their rightful land' in what is now called 'The War of the Light'. Snotty kings and queens inside lavish, ruling castles chose to eradicate any sort of threat or trouble maker —no matter how small— and lock them up in a sordid piece of land with water and a magical barrier surrounding it, so they were not only removed from their minds, but trapped inside a physical cage with metaphorical bars. There to endure a punishment worse than death. A land which prides itself, and its inhabitants, for being the poster picture of clear and pure kindness, casted a cruel and petty spell on those which it deemed unworthy of their own prosperity.
So, the curse was set —for who could call it anything other than so?— and all those creatures were sentenced to live in total disgrace. Most of the powerful and mighty were forced to endure an existence of food scraps and absolutely no technological growth. Resorting to cave into the necessity of doing menial tasks as if they had not been the ruling force of the universe once. Made to stand watch as the whole kingdom continued on under the royal's idiotic lead.
The machiavellian dynasty was gruesomely executed and the vagabonds and never-do-wells were left in the perpetual state of betrayal and crime against each other until their old ways seemed blurred. Constantly switching back and forth between keeping The Isle going and actually living and thriving on chaos. No magic. No wifi. No way out.
Or so they thought.
The precious little heroes seemed to have forgotten about a very tiny detail: happiness is as treacherous and misleading as an evil genie, and no amount of their good-wishes and wizardly-forged barriers would be able to hold the most evil minds of the land, at least not for long. Every mortal or mythical being had to know that they would eventually find a way to break out. They only had to await an opportune possibility and the kings and queens will never see them coming —the morons.
Our real story starts right when things get really fascinating, when one fool gets the brilliant idea to give them just that.
Welcome to the end of eras.
He was startled awake, ruthlessly brought back from the fantastical world of imagination to the land of the living. The recurring dreams were starting to mildly concern him. There was nothing particularly wrong with them. Nothing that could really be deemed worrying, yet something about them made him feel ill at ease, as if he were nervous about some uncertain outcome.
Rubbing away the sleepiness on his eyes and softly scratching his blonde hair he figured it was a lost cause trying to go back to rest now. The large window next to his bed still showed the last remnants of a sky clinging to darkness. The vastness and beauty of the kingdom in full display, lands of never-ending green edged by an open sea, and across from it, a gloomy island with a barely visible dome sitting on top of it. The first kaleidoscopic rays could be seen emerging from over the horizon, casting the sun's golden light upon land and isle alike. For him, looking out at the dichotomy of both places had seemed to become a habit; he failed to determine whether that was out of curiosity or recognition, but he was certain the sight of it had an impact on his soul each day, no matter if the imprint was positive or not. Or perhaps a bit of both.
He followed his natural day routine, attending to chores and obligations he was supposed to carry out for most of the day, until the sky had turned red, and then purple, and the whole daytime was invested in tasks which put a heavy strain on his troubled mind, always finding himself looking back out the window with a sigh trapped between his breath. Of course, not all days were like that. In reality, more often than not, he was quite an excitable and easy-going young man, yet the shadow of the island seemed to follow him wherever he went.
He spent his days in the same manner, up until he was given the opportunity to actually do something about the situation. That was the day he finally turned eighteen sun-cycles and his first privileges were granted. His rightful privileges as the next in line for King of the United Kingdom of Auradon. He may not had been crowned and named yet, but his reign had officially begun; and with that, came his ability to proclaim the law.
The tailor on his left kept measuring and asserting that his coronation attire would be grand and majestic, John honestly could not care less what he would wear to the ceremony; not when he had more important matters to discuss. He figured he would look pretty much as he always did: short hair, square jaw, and button nose. His consultant and most trusted advisor was on his right, slowly going over every tiny detail and complication that could present itself once his will was implemented. The young prince was aware that the government agent was not in the least opposed to the idea, but that he dreaded the logistics it would take to carry it out, in Auradon it wasn't everyday that someone dared to question the rules in any way, much less challenge them; but John felt that change was not only convenient, but necessary.
His parents —the still official King and Queen— arrived to his much too opulent to his tastes chambers, cheerful and content, commenting on his impending acceptance of responsibility. His mother, once she saw him in his coronation suit, grinned and cooed excitedly as his father looked on proud and determined. They were a perfect pair, his progenitors, and by perfect he meant perfect, as in encompassing every good and ideal quality a couple of human —or magical— beings could have. John would be relentlessly lying if he were to say that wasn't the reason why he sometimes dreaded the whole ruling business. He enjoyed it in most days, but others he found himself wishing he could do as his sister had and get out from ascending to the throne on account of being a woman and marrying a prince of another kingdom, even if she was the first-born. For John that gender distinction was terribly unfair.
"How can it possibly be that you will be crowned King next moon, you're still such a young lad." The man exclaimed while gesturing to him with a big, strong hand and an even bigger grin on his face. His mother, looking poised and elegant hanging by his arm replied, "He's already eighteen, dear." And turned to look at him in a very conspiring manner.
John softly smiled too, but one look at his loyal advisor —who was also very young himself, only five cycles older than him— reminded him of what he had decided to do that day. "Hey, dad?" He asked, only to be blatantly ignored by his father still rambling on about how he was still way too young to be this grown-up and how he had never appeared to have made a good decision before the age of forty-four. Fact which his mother did not take too kindly.
"You decided to marry me at twenty eight." She said, crossing her thin arms and sending a disapproving look towards him, stopping for a moment from caressing the piece of fabric she had been examining earlier.
"Well, Harriet, it was either you or the magical teapot." Was his playful remark, which did manage to get an honest chuckle out of both John and his mum. King Ben and Queen Harriet had ruled the lands wisely and gracefully, after all, their own trials and adventures when they were younger were the perfect example of rising up to your full potential no matter the obstacles or mistakes along the way. It hadn't always been easy, nor optimal —specially with his father's previous …condition— but relying on each other and bravely following their heart's calling, they had managed to make it work in the best of ways and the blonde could not be happier, nor more grateful, to have had them as his guidance and support since he was born.
Sensing the young prince's hesitation to interrupt such a pure and fragile moment with something that would certainly make the evening turn southward, the counselor stepped forward and announced himself that the new king had chosen his first proclamation, ceding the word to his majesty to relay the announcement unto the pair.
Both of them seemed delighted, and even if John sent a very indebted expression towards his clever assistant, he took a brief second to gather any courage he could find in him to put into words what he had been thinking for more than the past six moon cycles. In the end, it was surprisingly easy to find it, there was not a single trace of doubt in his mind that he was doing the right thing.
"I have decided that, effective immediately, the children on the colloquially known as 'The Isle of the Lost' will be given a chance to live here in Auradon." John said in the most sure and confident voice he had ever portrayed, only to watch as his mother let go of the cloth in her hands and very nearly toppled over in astonishment.
Author's note: Disclaimer: This work is loosely based on a plot line of the movie Disney's Descendants. If you haven't seen it, or don't like it, please know that you can read it and understand everything. None of the actual characters of Descendants appear.
For those of you who have seen it, you know where this is going. Also, there are a few nods to the original hidden not very subtly in the narration.
Hope you all like it.