I did not take that boy for evil. I mean, he always wore so much pink.
————
Ashton sat on his king-size bed and sketched furiously in a rose-colored journal trimmed with gold scrolling. Dressed in a beaded bodysuit with pink leather pants and an open leather duster, pink ankle boots, pink feather earrings, and a sweet bluebird charm necklace. Ashton screamed goody-goody. As did everything about his dorm room, with its pink curtains, pink bedding, and pink marble fireplace.
A glinting crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Several handsomely framed portraits of Ashton and Cole through the years received prime placement on the fireplace mantel. In one particularly sweet photo, a cherubic five-year-old Ashton was seated on a minute gold throne next to Prince Cole, who wore a teensy-tiny Auradon crown and held out a matching one toward Ashton. It was an adorable depiction of their destined royal future together.
Ashton looked up from his journal and scowled at the old photo, a sharp reminder of what was never to be. He'd followed all the rules and waited patiently, but when the time finally came, Cole chose Harry. A villain! Ashton's heart shattered all over again at the thought of his cruel rejection.
He returned his attention to his journal and attacked the page with angry strokes of the pencil. The sketch he drew was haunted, a majestic portrait of himself as Auradon's king, wearing a resplendent gold-and-sapphire crown atop his head.
Ashton's brown eyes filled with tears. He looked at his sketch and wondered, What happened to my happy ending?
Ashton:
I'm so tired of pretending
Where's my happy ending?
I followed all the rules
I drew inside the lines
I never asked for anything that wasn't mine
I waited patiently for my time
But when it finally came
He called his name
And now I feel this overwhelming pain
I mean it's in my veins
I mean it's in my brain
My thoughts are running in a circle like a toy train
I'm kinda like a perfect picture with a broken frame
I know exactly who to blame
He hurled his journal across the room and strode to his dorm room door, grabbing a fireplace poker on his way out. His face was set with resolution. If he couldn't be Cole's king, then he'd show Auradon. Cole wanted a villain. Well, he'd get one. Harry wasn't the only one who could succeed at breaking and entering.
Ashton:
I never thought of myself as mean
I always thought that I'd be the king
And there's no in between
'Cause if I can't have that
Then I would be the leader of the dark and the bad
Now there's a devil on my shoulder
Where the angels used to be
And it's calling me the king
—————
A closed sign hung on the wrought iron doors of the Auradon Museum of Cultural History. Behind a single guard slept obliviously at his post. Ashton snuck across the silent museum lobby, which held his mother's spinning. He crept past a glass vase displaying the Genie of Agrabah's lamp and another exhibiting Cinderella's glass slipper, then stood thoughtfully in front of the security console.
Without a sound, he deftly turned knobs and pushed buttons, which shut off alerts and silenced alarms. Then he swiftly climbed the steep foyer stairs, proud of his first successful foray into crime. See? There was nothing to this being evil thing.
On the second floor, Ashton crept down a dimly lit hallway and tiptoed into the museum's Room of Crowns. It was a guilded gallery that showcased the glorious tiaras and crowns of the queens and kings of fairy tales past. When Ashton was a young boy, the regal room had been his happy place. Tonight, he walked by the dazzling tiaras of everyday royals and headed straight to the far end of the room. A sign read Crown of the Queen of Auradon. He pulled back the blue velvet curtain and bounded up the few steps to a lit glass case that held the breathtaking crown.
Ashton:
Being nice was my pastime
But I've been hurt for the last time
And I won't ever let another person take advantage of me
The anger burns my skin, third-degree
Now my blood's boiling hotter than a fiery sea
There's nobody getting close to me
They're gonna bow to the Evil King
Your nightmare's my dream
Just wait until they fall to my wicked schemes
The gem-covered object of beauty was the same magnificent two-tiered gold, diamond, and sapphire crown Ashton had drawn himself wearing. In accordance with kingdom tradition, the crown was meant to sit on the head of King Cole's chosen king—which, Ashton fumed, was supposed to be him.
Ashton:
I never thought of myself as mean
I always thought that I'd be the king
And there's no in between
'Cause if I can't have that
Then I would be the leader of the dark and the bad
Now there's a devil on my shoulder
Where the angels used to be
And he's calling me the king of mean (Calling me, calling me)
The king of mean (Calling me, calling me)
(Calling me, calling me)
The king of mean
Oh, how he converted the stunning crown and everything it represented. He was not about to sit by and let the most precious heirloom in the land be worn by that dreadful son of Anne. He'd sooner steal the beloved crown than let that happen.
Ashton was tired of playing nice. "Your nightmare's my dream," he said as if speaking to the people of Auradon. With anger and hurt boiling in his blood, Ashton hoisted the iron poker in the air and smashed the glass case.
At the sound of the shattered glass, something evil awoke down the hall in the museum's Room of the Dark Arts. As if roused by Ashton's villainous intentions, Anne's scepter, which had sat dormant on a spotlighted pedestal for years, began to pulse with an eerie green light. There was something ominous and wicked about its glow.
Meanwhile, Ashton stood in the Room of Crowns among the scattered shards of glass, with the iron poker at his fist. He grabbed the majestic sapphire-laden crown from the case and raised it defiantly above his head.
Suddenly, a red velvet curtain flapped open across the room. A green-tinged light cascaded in from a hidden chamber behind it. Ashton, mesmerized by the sinister light, clutched the priced crown in his manicured hand. He glided down the steps and followed the mysterious beacon. In all his years of school field trips and family outings to the museum, Ashton had never set foot in front of the Dark Arts. And now it beckoned him.
Ashton:
Something's pulling me
It's so magnetic
My body is moving
Unsure where I'm headed
All of my senses have left me defenseless
This darkness around me is promising vengeance
The price that I'm willing to pay is expensive
There's nothing to lose when you're lonely and friendless
So my only interest is showing this prince
That I am the king and my reign will be endless! (Endless)
The hypnotic glow emanated from Anne's scepter. Ashton floated to the forbidden object, drawn to its promise of unlimited power and sweet revenge.
In the presence of the scepter, Ashton changed his mind. The night was no longer about the mere theft of the bejeweled crown. The scepter had opened Ashton's eyes to the possibility of much more than that. "I want what I deserve. I want to rule the world," Ashton said aloud.
Ashton:
If they want a villain for a king
I'm gonna be one like they've never seen
I'll show them what it means
Now that I am that
I will be the ruler of the dark and the bad
'Cause the devil's on my shoulder
Where the angels used to be
And he's calling me the king of mean (Calling me, calling me)
(Calling me, calling me)
The king of mean (Calling me, calling me)
An excellent student, Ashton knew the museum housed only one object powerful enough to assist in that goal, and that artifact had once belonged to Harry's mom. Now it would belong to her. How fitting.
His gaze darted about the Room of the Dark Arts and stopped on a straw basket lined with a red-and-white gingham napkin and filled with a dozen of Evil King's poisoned apples. With a quick sweep of his arm, Ashton cleared the basket from its pedestal and set down the bejeweled crown in its place. He'd take the scepter instead.
He strode toward Anne's staff, his gait powered by awe and hunger, but then he paused, turned around, and turned to retrieved the crown. He didn't have to choose between the queen's crown and the deadly scepter.
Cole wanted a true villain? Well, a true villain would steal both. So he did.
Ashton placed the queen's crown regal lay on his own head. "I am the king and my reign will be endless!"
With this self-coronation complete, King Ashton yanked the pulsing scepter off its stand. The orb changed at his touch, instantly turning a more menacing shade of green. Ashton's eyes widened at the potent evil force swept through his body, transforming the prissy pink prince into a dark, dangerous sorcerer.
Ashton's evil new look was heart-stopping. His pale, anemic hair had turned a rich magenta ombré, flowing from deep rose as the roots to midnight blue at the tips. His demure pastel pink outfit was no more. In its place, he wore a wicked getup of black-and-blush fitted leather pants and a tea-length duster with alarming black raven.
Ashton looked like a warrior enchanter—gorgeous menacing and scary.
Ashton:
I want what I deserve!
A maniacal look washed over Ashton's pretty face as he decided to take Anne's scepter for a test run. He raised the staff aloft and unleashed its power on the crystal chandelier above.
The fixture shattered in a menacing cascade of glass and light. Ashton's nefarious laugh and echoed throughout the museum. Being an evil king was going to be fun.