Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess named Percy who had glowing blonde hair, girl-like hand gestures, and an injured internal organ. Percy enjoyed the finer things in life, and he resided in a ridiculously too-large castle atop a hill overlooking the small but happy kingdom of Bron-Yr-Aur. Bron-Yr-Aur, as the name does not imply, was famous across the land for its large and decidedly delicious lemons. When one looked out any window in the castle one would see nothing but acres and acres of lemon trees as far as the eye could see. Now Percy was not a "princess" in the traditional sense of the word, meaning he was in all technicality, a prince. The title of a princess was most commonly used to refer to the daughter of a king, not a son. But Percy did not and never had pictured himself suiting the role of a prince, and preferred to be a princess much more. Something was so appealing to him about wearing dresses and having long hair that he was never forced to cut.
As for Percy's injured internal organ-or broken heart-this was one of the few things in life the Princess of Bron-Yr-Aur did not enjoy, as you have most likely guessed. In the last week, Percy had become an orphan. His father had died when he was very little, and the only memory Percy has of him is that he ate a lot of cake. His mother had passed on to the other side but five days ago, and since then Percy had not left his room. Why should he? He had everything he needed: his blanket fort, his teddy bear, and his hair products. This worried him slightly, he had to admit-he was running low on conditioner. No matter. Someone would buy some and bring it to him. The Princess refused to open his door even a crack, so they would have to throw it to him from the window. That would be okay. The tower wasn't even that high, after all. He didn't need to leave ever again because outside of his room there was nothing but sadness lying in wait.
Thus, Princess Percy sat alone in his crudely constructed fort, cuddling his teddy bear and doing his best to nurse his poor heart back to health. Some of his friends dropped by and begged him to come out, even just for a little while, but each time Percy refused. It was too hard. It made him want to cry, thinking of being out in the world where people you love died. No one would get hurt in his blanket fort. He was safe. His teddy bear, Peter, was safe.
In addition, Percy was plain scared because he knew what would happen should he leave his quarters. He was scared by the knowledge he was next in line to rule over the people of Bron-Yr-Aur. Percy was not a leader. Percy was a follower; indecisive. Hard decisions were not meant to be made by him. There were people who did that kind of thing. Not him. What frightened the Princess the most, however, was the obvious fact that he could not be a queen without having a king by his side. Marriage was a truly terrifying prospect. Commitment was the absolute most scariest thing in the whole world to Percy. Percy was one of the ficklest people you would ever meet. How was he expected to look after anyone other than himself? He had a pet hamster once, and even she died within a couple of days.
Percy was not unkind, though. Not hard to live with. All he needed was some food, somewhere to sleep, and an occasional cuddle. Like a kitten, maybe. He just didn't realize it at the time, but he would make a wonderful wife, and the person whom he would marry was, at the time, an unsuspecting writer named John Paul. Or, as John Paul preferred, Jonesy.
Jonesy was a gentle, quiet, and fairly unassuming writer who lived on the outskirts of Bron-Yr-Aur, in a small house nestled comfortably in between two rolling green hills. Or at least, he was an aspiring writer, and musician. He played various instruments and he wrote songs, songs that no one save for himself had ever heard. Which was quite a shame, for Jonesy was much better than people were lead to believe. He never let this fact be known, and so no one truly paid him much attention. John Paul was far too shy to do such a thing. Besides, it's not like he thought he was that good, anyway.
Inside Jonesy's humble abode, one would find towering stacks of sheet music and assorted ink bottles and quills. The remaining space of the tiny home was filled with a crude but comfy cot, a writing table which could barely stand, and of course, Jonesy's musical instruments. They made his home his home. They leaned against walls and hung down from the ceilings and every single one was extremely well looked after and loved: lutes, harps, mandolins, tambourines, guitars, bagpipes, exotic foreign instruments you had probably never seen before, all from John Paul's travels. There was even a spoon here and there, if one was looking hard enough to see them. He liked to hang spoons off of his nose in his spare time.
The best part of it all, to Jonesy, was his clear view of the castle where the beautiful Princess Percy resided. It's not like he was close enough to actually gaze upon Percy himself, but he was close enough to at least see it, even if it was a small grey dot in the distance. It comforted Jonesy to know they slept under the same night sky, and that they watched the same sunset each and every day.
He sighed deeply, feeling hopelessly sad. John Paul had just received the news of the Princess' recent orphaned state. The news spread terribly quickly around the little kingdom. Jonesy was an orphan as well, but unlike Percy he could not remember his mother or father, never mind miss them. His grandparents had raised him, for they died when he was a young child. Still, he felt closer to the future ruler of Bron-Yr-Aur than he ever had before. Jonesy also pondered over who would be the lucky bride. The normally content Jonesy felt a twinge of jealousy he could not deny. Wistfully, he wished it could be him.
It was certainly not much, but it was home, and Jonesy had positively no intention of leaving it until the moment he discovered the Princess had been kidnapped by one of the most feared wizards in Bron-Yr-Aur and beyond, Jimmy.
Jimmy was not a bad person. That's just what they want you to think. You turn one person into a scarf, and for the rest of your life you're considered to be a villain. It was a nice, striped scarf, too. Jimmy still had it laying around somewhere. Certainly, Jimmy was a wizard and had a bit of a temper and was indeed scary-looking, but he was not bad. He never hurt anyone, purposely, and he drank tea. Not exactly bad guy material, in his humble opinion.
But the Wizard was lonely. He was dreadfully, dreadfully lonely and horribly, horribly sad. His mind was going. He had been alone for far too long, hidden away deep in the lonely and endless forests of Kashmir. And once in a while, feelings such as these caused ordinarily calm people to do things they wouldn't normally be found doing.
Such as kidnapping a prominent royal figure from their tower in the dead of night.
Jimmy liked to think he knew this was going to happen-the death of Percy's mother. That he knew all; he was omnipresent. The truth was Jimmy was a little creepy and what in modern times, we would deem a "stalker." Just a little bit. He always knew Percy would have to marry eventually, and it wasn't going to be to anybody but him. But he never knew how to approach the subject, obviously. Percy would most likely not marry him by choice. Jimmy thought sadly that no one would marry him by choice. Everyone was afraid of him. Then again, would anyone marry Percy by choice? Yes, Percy was dashingly handsome and had the fairest hair in the history of the world, but besides those things, the Princess did not have much going for him. He was a little slow in the head and perpetually smelled of lemons. Jimmy, unbeknownst to Percy, was doing him a favor by kidnapping him and marrying him. The Wizard was quite good at rationalizing his blatantly unacceptable motives.
Percy was far bigger and heavier than Jimmy the Wizard had been anticipating, especially when he was asleep. Jimmy was not a very physically strong person and when he yanked the Princess along the floor, across the blanket nest, he swore some bone in his body broke. After catching his breath and questioning for a split second how good of an idea this was, Jimmy leaned over and placed one arm under the small of Percy's back and the other underneath his knees. Naturally, the lightly snoring Princess' head rolled until it rested against Jimmy's shoulder. Shuddering, he tried to ignore how odd this felt, since he had not had human contact, especially like this, for a very long time. Percy smelled of graham crackers, and not so much lemons as the wizard had been expecting. He adjusted his grip on Percy, then vanished in a cloud of thick, pitch black smoke.