Chapter Text
Once upon a time there was a Kingdom that existed in a lush and wondrous land. It was once a very great and powerful Kingdom with many generations of history under it’s belt. Yet, every great Kingdom must fall and this is the story of one man’s desperate attempt to save his Kingdom and his legacy through very unusual and highly unorthodox means.
Waylon Park was from a very long and prestigious line of royal blood. His father and great grandfather ruled the land and guided their people through continuous prosperity and even rose them back up when the land hit a rough patch. Waylon’s reign was not so lucky. Some would even say it was cursed. Beginning with how Waylon ascended the throne after his Father had met a very untimely and rather profound end via grape lodged in his throat. The man had been amidst a fit of laughter when it had become lodged and soon asphyxiated right there in front of his Queen, several guards and a servant who tried to help save him but to no avail. After that, the Queen passed after her heart gave out, her grief and despair at the loss of her husband and King was too much for her fragile heart to bare. She died in her sleep and was found by the servants the next morning.
Waylon ascended the throne while his people were in chaos and mourning over their losses. The Prince himself was stricken with these losses the hardest and his kind demeanor had become warped by grief. He became cruel and disheartened. He disregarded his people as they cried out for their Prince to guide them. Soon following that summer there came no rain. It was a terrible heat that scorched the earth and dried up the reservoirs. Livestock died of thirst and starvation. His people were going hungry and the wells were emptying out. The harvest was meager, not even enough to last halfway through the Winter and much of the people couldn’t afford the rising prices for goods. On top of that, the surrounding Kingdom’s who had a peace treaty with the previous King revoked their agreement and set forth high demands for sending their own resources to the struggling land. When Waylon refused to agree to the outrageous demands, war broke out and the Kingdom was doomed with an ill fate.
With winter steadily approaching and war on their borders, the Kingdom was doomed. They had no resources to be able to back their troops and they were starving quicker than the war could kill them. The people in the Capital were under strict decree to ration and anyone caught taking more than the allotted amount per person was to be executed on sight. No room for trial or imprisonment. In the beginning theft and murder was rampant with the decreased rations but the new decree kept people from acting out lest they be killed. Even the King himself was subject to these rations despite what the people in the Kingdom thought. Assuming Waylon was barricading himself up in his high tower and stuffing his face. Instead he locked himself away in his chambers to get away from the rest of his court. He couldn’t take the barrage of questions and inquiries anymore. The entire kingdom was falling apart and he had his generals beating down his chamber doors, demanding an audience with him.
“Leave me be!” Waylon screamed at the elderly men toting scrolls and letters and other itineraries about. Their bearded expressions twisted in disbelief and their leather wrinkled faces contorted into a sneer of displeasure. Muttering in disgust at how the Prince was acting, comparing his actions and failures to the triumphs of the previous King. It made Waylon’s blood boil, more so then this god forsaken heatwave did. He locked the heavy wooden doors and combed his fingers through disheveled sandy blonde locks, drawing them out of his eyes. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple from his forehead as his light blue eyes swept around the room. He was relieved to finally get a moment’s peace alone. Removing the heavy cloak from his shoulders and letting it drop to the ground at his feet without a care. The olive green material easily discarded along with the white satin sash around his waist. Loosening the green tunic to allow air to breath between his chest and the suffocating cotton fabric. The white trousers were stifling as well and he contemplated removing them only to disregard the option.
He gave another glance around the room, this one was not his previous abode. This was the King’s chambers which he was pressured into moving into since the Queen’s death. Waylon hadn’t slept in the bed once since then, unable to look at the empty space where his mother had been found on the bed the morning of her passing. He hardly had any time at all to sleep since then. His blue eyes had dark rings underneath them from exhaustion and the forming of worry lines around bloodshot eyes. He breathed a deep sigh and took a single step forward when he heard a knocking at the door. Something inside of Waylon snapped and he grabbed the closest thing he could find and threw it at the large wooden doors. The object being a very delicately made and rather old looking crystal lamp. It was made of a rare form of blue crystal and was a wedding gift from the King to the Queen once long ago. It always rested on the vanity where his mother’s jewelry and other accessories were stored.
The blue crystal his the door with an explosion of a very fine sky blue powder that forced Waylon to turn away and cover his mouth. Couching as the dust settled, not expecting the lamp to contain anything at all. He had assumed it was empty and at the time it felt rather light in his grasp. He swatted the air to disperse the powder before turning back to inspect the damage of his actions, already feeling a bit guilty for destroying such a precious antique. His weary eyes widened when they settled on the large silhouette of a man standing amidst the settling dust cloud. He was barefoot with black trousers on and a white sash tied firmly around his waist. His chest was bare exposing well toned musculature that made his already imposing size all the more intimidating. Only hindered by a neat black vest. He had black hair very neatly slicked back, allowing one’s gaze to be focused solely on the pair of striking blue orbs. They were the deepest blue Waylon has ever seen in his entire life. It pulled at an unquenchable thirst that resided deep inside Waylon. One that he wanted to sate right that moment and devour.
The prince was too startled by this appearance to make a move or speak and so the stranger took the initiative of breaking the ice first. He stretched his arms up above his head, flexing the muscles along his chest and biceps. Waylon’s eyes drank in the dip of muscle in the stranger’s abdomen and it had him flustered for the first time in a long time, feeling those eyes set on him and knowing the Prince was staring at odd places. “Wonderful darling! Thank you for that. It was quite cramped in there if I do say so myself.” The stranger relaxed back onto the balls of his feet, stepping over the crystal as if it were nothing to him. Waylon was already anticipating a bloody mess in the man’s footprints but there was nothing. Not even tracks of the male’s presence. Which made waylon further question his current state of sanity or lack thereof.
“Now then, with that out of the way. Tell me, what is your name?” His voice was a low rumble that sent chills through Waylon’s body. Gooseflesh rushing across his sweat covered body accompanied by a deeper flush as the stranger closed the distance between them without a care for Waylon’s status. This made Waylon wonder if the man even realized where he was or who he was talking to, which of course with the question given, it was obvious he had no idea.
“I am Prince Waylon.” His words which were meant to be confident and sharp came out a little too weak as the large male got eye to eye with him. Waylon froze completely still, his mind racing with his hammering heart as he wondered why the heck he hadn’t called the guards on this intruder yet. Even worse, this man was between him and the locked chamber door. He was trapped with this stranger who appeared out of nowhere. It was that reminder that made Waylon start to believe the heat and recent stress and grief was finally getting to him and completely fried his brain.
“A Prince you say? Well Darling, I hate to tell you but that title no longer matters. You broke the lamp, yes?” Waylon’s breath caught in his throat as the stranger raised a hand, one of which Waylon noticed had fingerless gloves on. At the snap of a finger, the cloud of blue dust rose from the floor like a miniature sandstorm and swirled up around Waylon like a twister. Waylon held his breath, afraid of being suffocated by the cloud as his body was pulled and pushed around. Like something was grabbing at him. He felt a heavy weight settle around his throat, a cool metal sensation against his neck then the same feeling formed around his ankles and wrists. As the cloud slowed, it pooled into the stranger’s outstretched palm to form a miniature blue crystal bottle. Complete with a stopper and a silver chain from which to hang on. Silver like vines wrapped around the bottle to keep it attached to the chain.
When Waylon looked down at the weight he felt on his body, he quickly realized to his horror that cufflinks formed around his limbs complete with a heavy eternity collar at his throat. A silver chain hung from the collar, hanging in the air and resting strewn across the stranger’s palm beside the blue crystal bottle. “This is the consequences for your actions. You must take my place.” The strange raven haired male informed as he looped the necklace around his head and let it rest around his throat, the crystal bottle nestled down against his chest over his sternum. “Oh my, where are my manners. My apologies your highness, My name is Eddie. I am, or well, I was a genie until you freed me. Now you are one too.”