The jewel in the crown was their handsome son, fifteen-year-old Prince Ben. There had been no fairies at his christening to bestow gifts, perhaps because he did not need any. Ben was as handsome as his father, with his strong brow and chisel-cut cheekbones, but he had his mother’s gentle eyes and keen intellect. He was a golden boy in every way, with a good heart and a winning spirit—captain of the tourney team, friend to all, destined to rule Auradon one day.
In short, he was the very sort of person that the people of the Isle of Lost despised. And, as on the Isle of the Lost, magic was no longer a factor in daily life in Auradon either. King Beast and Queen Belle stressed scholarship above enchantment, exhorting the young people to work hard instead of relying on fairy spells or dragon friends for help. Because Beast was the most powerful figure in all the kingdoms, when he proposed the new work ethic, nobody argued against him. It was indeed a new (once upon a) time for the people of the fabled fairy-tale lands.
But even without magic, life in Auradon was close to perfect. The sun always shone, the birds always chirped, there was never more than a five-minute wait at the DFMV (the Department of Formerly Magical Vehicles); and if everyone wasn’t happy all the time (it’s not as if this were heaven—get a grip, people), everyone was content.
Except, of course, when they weren’t.
Isn’t that always the way?
The kingdom’s various short or fluffy or furry or minuscule—and sometimes animal—sidekicks were causing problems again. Sidekicks United, they called themselves, and they were far from happy. They were, in a word, disgruntled.
“Well, then, how can we help you today? Let’s see.…” Ben wasn’t talking to anyone but a piece of paper—or a thousand pieces. He stared down at the documents in front of him, tapping them with his pen. His father had asked him to lead the Council meeting that morning, part of the training for becoming king in a few months.
As was tradition, the firstborn child of the royal household would take the throne of Auradon at sixteen years of age. Beast and Belle were ready to retire. They were looking forward to long vacation cruises, early-bird dinners, and playing golf (Beast), bingo (Belle), and generally taking it easy. Besides, Belle had a stack of unread bedside reading so high, it threatened to topple over on a huffy Mrs. Potts when she came to take away the breakfast tray every morning.
The complaint wasn’t the only thing on his mind. Ben had woken up that morning from a bit of a nightmare. Or it felt like a nightmare—and it certainly looked like one. In the dream, he was walking around a strange village full of shabbily dressed, miserable people who ate rotten fruit and drank black coffee. No cream. No sugar. No coffee cake to dip in it. The horror! And he had fallen into some kind of ditch, but someone had helped him out.
A beautiful, purple-haired girl who looked nothing like anyone in Auradon…
“Thank you,” he said gratefully. “And who are you?”
But she’d disappeared before he could catch her name.
He went back to the papers in his hand and tried to forget about her.
Ben studied the Sidekicks United complaint—the first of its kind—and his heart beat a little faster at the thought of having to talk to all these people and convince them that there was no need for this level of discontent.
He sighed, until a familiar voice interrupted his reverie.
“Be careful about the sidekicks, son. Sooner or later they steal the spotlight.”
Ben looked up, surprised to see his father standing in the doorway. King Beast looked like he always did, as smiling and happy and fulfilled as on his billboards. All over Auradon, they read Good job being good! Keep it up! King Beast roars his approval!
His father motioned to the stack of papers on Ben’s desk. “Looks like you’re working hard.”
Ben wiped his eyes. “Yeah.”
King Beast clapped his paw of a hand on his son’s shoulder. “That’s my boy. So what is it that they want, exactly?”
Ben scratched behind his ear with his pen. “It seems they’re a bit upset, as they do all the work around here and are hardly compensated for their efforts. If you think about it from their perspective, they have a point.”
“Mmm.” King Beast nodded. “Everyone gets a voice in Auradon. Although you can’t let too many voices drown out reason, of course. That’s what it means to be kingly,” he said, perhaps a little more forcefully than was necessary.
“If you keep raising your voice, my darling, you’re going to crack all the china, and Mrs. Potts will never allow you either a cup of warm milk or a warm bath again.” Ben’s mother, the goodly Queen Belle, arrived in the room and slipped her hand under her husband’s muscled arm (yet another Beastly quality the king still seemed to possess—the strength of a wild creature in the form of a mere man). She was as beautiful as the day she had come upon Beast’s castle, and resplendent in a pretty yellow dress. If there were laugh lines around her eyes now, no one seemed to notice; and if anything, they only served to make her look more appealing.