Chapter Text
Prolouge:
Deck the Halls: In Which JJ Is a Brat and Gets Cursed.
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a—
“It’s JJ STYLE! RUN!”
—a monster. Currently it was terrorizing the countryside.
This monster was called the Jay Jay monster, and this is his story.
Let's leave him there and travel back.
Many years ago, on the longest night of the year, a huge blizzard raged around a little castle in the Kingdom of Canada. Heedless of the wind and weather, the royals and nobles in the castle celebrated the birthday of their only prince, Jean-Jacques of the Royal LeRoi house. Loud music played in the great hall. All was well.
Well… As well as it could be when a teenage brat thought he owned the largest country in the world.
“Sir Yakov,” the Russian’s colleague whispered urgently, “is it all right, as responsible adults, to…let the boy hang naked from the chandelier, slide from the bannisters, and distribute gold?”
“Well,” Yakov huffed, “not my business. If he dies, more land for the Russian and Yamato kingdoms.”
Indeed, Jean-Jacques of the LeRoi house did the strangest things sometimes. But the commoners seemed to like it enough, seeing as he was distributing more gold than they’d ever earn in a lifetime.
The two guests watched as the crowd settled in to hear Jean-Jacques’ story of the time he went hunting and came back with a phoenix to cook for dinner—lies, of course, since phoenixes didn’t exist, and even if they did, they couldn’t be killed. The commoners didn’t seem to care, content on staying silent and staring dreamily at the piles of gold each had collected.
Slowly, even the nobles joined in on listening, and a comfortable quiet was created as even Jean-Jacques deigned to lower his voice for dramatic purposes.
It was in this hazy lull of crackling Yuletide firewood and murmuring voices that a sharp knock sounded.
Rap-rap-rap. Three efficient and polite taps against the Great Doors of the castle.
A servant looked at the Prince questioningly; clearly, he did not want to move from his place to open the door. Jean-Jacques for his part ignored the knocks and the servant, continuing with his story.
The visitor knocked again. He(or she, Yakov supposed) was ignored.
After the polite intermission of half a minute, the Visitor once more knocked urgently, five quick taps and three loud and slow ones. This time, Yakov could not stand it.
“You highness, there may be a man on his deathbed outside the castle; ought you not do something about it?” Yakov had meant for it to sound reasonably polite and civilised, but it came out as more of a growl.
Well, when a teenage boy is letting a stranger freeze in a blizzard on the longest night of the year, it’s alright to be a little forceful, if it means you can save a life. And Yakov’s words worked, because after a brief moment of hesitation, the prince gestured to the servants.
Some servants struggled to get the locks out of the way and finally opened the door just a tiny inch. Immediately, a cold blast of air snaked its way through the crowd. A head popped in through the door.
Jean-Jacques squeaked in surprise, jumping back and running behind a young maid.
“Forgive my rudeness, kind Sir,” the stranger said to Prince Jean-Jacques, “but will you be so gracious as to grant me shelter in your grand abode?”
The man’s clothes were dark and scruffy. His voice was deep and gravelly. The dagger on his hip was not polished, but red with something the crowed hoped was rust and not anything else.
Jean-Jacques peeked out from behind the maid. “Um—“ his voice came out squeakily. He cleared his throat. “P-proof of your identity, please.”
The stranger blinked slowly, as if he hadn’t thought of an answer yet. “I am but a humble traveller from the land of the Kazakhs, on a pilgrimage to find enlightenment. Though I have no documents, I hope my word is enough to sate your curiosity.”
“Oh, that backwater country!” Prince Jean-Jacques exclaimed loudly, stepping forward, all traces of uncertainty gone. He had been a little fearful thinking the man was some outlaw, but he was just a stupid savage!
“Well, look here, bro,” he said slowly, “In civilized Kingdoms like Canada, one must give something to get something, you see? So—”
“—I know, as Kazakhstan is also quite civilized—“ The stranger cut in.
JJ continued on as if he hadn’t heard: “I can’t possibly let you stay for free. That would cost me money, you see, and money is valuable—that means one may die without it—and surely even you understand, letting your benefactor die is just rude!”
The Kazakh man was silent for a while. “I have little things of value, your Highness,” he said finally, “but here is my most prized procession.”
The man pulled out a CD from the depths of his pockets. “I am a musician. I offer this disk full of music and prose in exchange for shelter from the bitter cold.”
The prince snatched up the CD carelessly, giving it a cursory inspection. “Hm...” He threw it back to the Kazakh. “Sorry, but that’s not worth much. You got anything else? Something more…valuable?”
“Do not be deceived by appearances, young Prince, for true value of a thing cannot be found with such little effort. Perhaps you should listen to the CD first?”
“No, thank you—I can already tell when it comes to stuff like this,” Jean-Jacques replied. “Maybe you can sell your kidneys,” the Prince joked. “Eh, on the other hand, don’t try; the doctors’ll think you have all kinds of diseases anyhow.”
“Do you not wish to at least examine the tribute?”
Prince Jean-Jacques laughed loudly. “No.”
The stranger sighed and took off his coat, suddenly transforming into a young man in a brilliant white suit with sky blue trimming. Yakov and the other guests gasped in surprise as giant wings sprouted from his back.
“Otabek Altin,” Jean-Jacques exclaimed, eye wide in surprise and fear. “The great Enchanter of Kazakhstan! What an honour! I’m so sorry for what I said before. Why don’t we just start with dinner now eh?”
“No, thank you,” Otabek Altin replied, “I know there is no love in your heart. Spare me the formalities. Keep the CD. It will finish crumbling to powder sometime during your twenty-first year. You’d better find someone to love before then, if you don’t want to be destroyed along with it. Although, good luck with that.” Otabek gave a gentle smile to the Prince, who was frozen in place, watching himself transform in a mirror, getting more and more hideous by the moment.
“For who could ever learn to love a Monster?” With these words, the Enchanter disappeared.
He had placed a great curse on the castle and its inhabitants. Those could escape did, but the majority of them were trapped, doomed to serve the Monster Prince and his castle forever.