AN;
Hello readers! Just a few bits here to help you out with the story.
First of all, this story will take place during the events of 'Descendants 2', so it's strictly Isle-Based for the most part. I haven't read the books yet so I'm only basing this world and it's characters from what I've seen in the films. But feel free to PM me with any facts and such from the books if you think it'd help the story in any way, as that would be greatly appreciated.
Warnings; T+
. Swearing (I'll keep it down as much as I can.)
. Violence (Nothing too graphic, but it is in here.)
No other warnings for now. But if I do feel a particular chapter has a bit of a touchy subject, I'll make sure to post an A.N. at the beginning of said chapter.
This is a Harry/OC story, but it is quite dark. And I just felt the need to point that out. I don't think the rating needs to be bumped up from T to M since there's nothing too graphic in here, but if you feel it does need a rating bump then let me know and I'll change it as soon as I can.
I should point out that this story is in the midst of being re-edited. So if some chapters are worded differently than others it's because I haven't gotten around to changing them up yet.
Thanks for reading, and enjoy!
"Mal! Mal!"
Queenie sniffled and released a faint, disheartened sigh, her hazel eyes watering at the sight of her old 'friend' on the fuzzy television screen.
Truth be told, she shouldn't have even been watching the damned T.V.. She'd only left the chip shoppe to grab her jacket from the den - or 'home' as she'd come to call it over the passing months. If she was gone too long then surely someone would come looking for her, but it wasn't as if she'd planned on staying any longer than she had to. She'd only switched on the T.V. in an effort to fill in the horrible silence she couldn't bare to stand when she came home, but seeing her friends living the high-life in Auradon while she herself suffered was proving to be a rather bitter distraction.
The young princess wiped away her tears and thought back on that fateful day, that lingering thought of how it all went wrong appearing in her mind once again.
She remembered it like it was yesterday. Her closest friend, Jay, had told her the news only an hour before the long vehicle had come to pick them up. All he'd really told her in that short span of time was that he and the rest of the Core Four were being sent to Auradon to retrieve the wand for their parents, and that he'd be back for her as soon as it was all over and done with.
'But he didn't come back, did he?'
Queenie wrinkled her nose and closed her eyes, internally pleading for the voice to leave her be. But she knew it wouldn't ever listen.
The day Queenie had watched the young princes coronation had been the day her life twisted itself upside down. Instead of fulfilling their only task of grabbing the wand to please their parents, her old 'gang' had gone in a completely different direction. Instead of bringing the barrier down and releasing every V.K. on the Isle from the never-ending torment they faced from their own villainous parents, the daughter of Maleficent had made the split-second decision of handing the magic wand over to the Fairy Godmother and had - rather publicly - announced her own choice to stay in Auradon and become 'good'. And just as they had on the Isle the rest of the group followed suit, until all four declared good over evil.
It'd taken a solid month for Queenie to come to the realisation that they weren't coming back for her. Every night she'd gone to sleep praying for a letter to arrive, or for one of them to return and reassure her that they still remembered her. Every time she walked through the dark streets of the Isle and someone decided to hiss insults and spit in her direction, she always made sure to remind herself of the promise they'd made. The Princess of Hearts had built up enough hope in her small body to sustain her for a good amount of time, and she'd been so sure of herself then.
The young girl's memory and mind hadn't been quite the same since. Nasty words and mean stares had eventually turned into fists and slices, the Isle dwellers grasping tight at the opportunity to put down an associate of the Core Four as soon as they took notice of the situation. Queenie had been on the receiving end of every punishment intended for Mal or one of the others, and since she'd had no parent to rely on back then she'd had to simply endure and - when it ended - somehow bring herself up. But each and every time she managed to tell herself that there was still a chance of her friends coming back for her.
Until one night she stopped. One night, precisely a month after she'd been abandoned, Queenie had dragged herself to the only person she had left. But in doing so she'd handed herself in to the only person on the Isle with a personal grudge against Queenie herself, and in doing so she'd nearly lost her life.
And then he found her.
Queenie lowered the volume on the television, twisting her head to the side as a familiar whistle rang clear in her ears. "Oh no!" she gasped, frantically leaping forward to switch off the T.V. and move to her feet.
The young princess paused and raised a hand to her forehead, blindly reaching for her black leather jacket as she waited for the dark spots to fade from her eyes.
As soon as the moment was gone Queenie was sprinting out of her den, fumbling to push her arms through the sleeves of her jacket as she raced down the metal steps leading up to her home.
"No, no, no," she hastily repeated the words to herself as if it'd somehow help her out of her predicament.
The whistling stopped and so did she. Instead of rushing towards what very well could have been an impatient and violently-impulsive pirate, Queenie took her time and instead leaned over the railing, her wide eyes darting through the large gap in an effort to spot the unwelcome guest a little clearer.
"Q'!"
The Princess clenched her eyes shut and huffed a breath of relief, the wave of utter anxiety she'd felt at hearing the whistled tune disappearing with each movement she made toward the ground. For the first time in a long while, her prayers had somehow been answered.
"Damn it, Gil!" she yelled, attempting to steady her racing heart when she finally faced her friend.
"What?!" the large boy exclaimed, his constant expression of visible confusion ever-present in that moment.
Queenie opened her mouth and raised a hand to grip her curls, too many insults forming in her mind for her to word anything comprehensible. She wished with everything she had to be able to insult the son of Gaston, and yet she still found herself unable to do so. For whatever reason the little princess really didn't have the same willingness as the others to take her anger out on someone who didn't know any better. She should have been able to do something so easy, especially since so many had done the exact same thing to her before she was 'protected', but she couldn't.
It just wasn't in her nature.
"I-It doesn't matter," she muttered instead, lightly shaking her head to rid herself of the troublesome thoughts and reminders.
"Okay." Gil shrugged, casually sticking his thumbs through the belt-loops of his faded jeans, the young girls frustrated expression going straight over his head.
"Why are you here?" she inquired, zipping up her jacket to protect herself from the cold air of the Isle.
"Oh!" yelped Gil, his eyes widening in realisation as he reached into one of his pockets. "This is for you." He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Queenie, peering down curiously as she inspected the note.
"Need the cash from Tremaine's," Queenie read the note out loud to herself with a whisper, "shouldn't be too hard for you." She grumbled with indignation and scrunched the paper up into ball, tossing it aside as she looked up at her friend.
"Why isn't Harry here?" she wondered. She wasn't about to complain about the idea of being with Gil on one of her usual 'raids', but alas her lingering curiosity won over once again.
"Mal was on the T.V., so Uma got angry," the blonde-haired pirate explained, and Queenie nodded her head in understanding.
"Why didn't you stay?" she asked him, her brows furrowed in slight confusion.
The large and muscular V.K. gave a small shrug. "They kicked me out."
"You called her 'shrimpy' again, didn't you?" the princess asked, her lips twitching upwards in a small grin of amusement.
Gil rolled his eyes skyward as he thought for a moment. "Uh-huh," he confirmed with a nod. His eyes then widened as a gasp of realisation left his mouth. "Is that why they keep sending me away?!"
"Yes!" she laughed in reply.
"But everyone calls her that."
"Not to her face," she told him, rather dumbfounded at the fact that, until she'd told him, Gil hadn't quite understood why he was being thrown out of the Chip Shoppe like a pestering little alley cat. She'd always known he wasn't very observant, but even this was pushing its limits.
"Oh," he drew out the word with a long breath of understanding, moving his head to stare at his boots.
"How haven't you been 'hooked' yet?" the princess mumbled to herself as the thought flew into her mind. She wasn't expecting an answer, she really hadn't counted on him having heard her at all, but he had.
"Because I'm strong," he replied, a large and proud smile gracing his features as he stood to full height, jutting out his chest in an overdramatic display of strength. "Uma said so herself."
The smile slowly slid from the young princess's face as she stared at the boy in front of her. Queenie felt so bad for him sometimes, especially with the way he was treated by Uma and Harry. Sure, he was a little idiotic sometimes, and he always spoke before he thought, but he had a very good heart. And considering where they all lived he was - at least to Queenie - a rarity. He always gave everything his full effort, and even though it sometimes didn't turn out how he planned it to, his constant persistence to please the Captain and First Mate was what made him their 'third-in-command', as it were.
Uma and Harry didn't notice it, but Queenie did.
"C'mon," she muttered, lightly patting her friend's bicep as a sign for them to start walking.
The trip to Lady Tremaine's hair salon wasn't far, in fact it was only down an alleyway and around the corner from Queenie's home, but living on the Isle meant that they couldn't be too content with their surroundings. Even something as simple as a small trip to the market could wind up with her in a ditch somewhere, and even though she was grateful for having some company with her on the short journey Queenie knew full well that her protection wasn't the reason Gil had been sent with her.
"I'm gonna take a wild guess here and say that they still don't trust me?" she asked Gil as they moved through the street, occasionally swerving to avoid oncoming thieves on the run and numerous boxes left outside the buildings.
"Nope," he replied, and Queenie lowered her head. "I-I mean...I think so?"
The young princess raised her head just a fraction, her bid to avoid locking eyes with anyone she walked by clashing with her efforts to keep an eye on where she was going. She stayed silent for the time being, the small twinge of hurt she felt at still not being able to do anything on her own rendering her completely silent.
"I just don't get it," she eventually said, twirling a thick strand of her dark-brown hair in both hands: A nervous habit, she'd come to realise.
"Don't get what?" inquired Gil, looking down at the shorter V.K..
"I've been working at the Shoppe for four months now. Uma asks, and I do. No questions asked. Even at the beginning when she interrogated me for information on Mal and the others I told her everything I knew. I guess I just thought that, by now at least, they would've learned to trust me."
The Princess of Hearts knew that ranting to Gil wasn't the best decision, since he almost always ran off to tell Uma and Harry, but she couldn't help herself this time. There was a good chance he'd forget everything she'd said to him by the time he did see them again, and she was willing to accept that risk. Just because she'd learnt to keep her feelings to herself didn't mean she couldn't unload every now and again, and sometimes they built up inside of her until - eventually - something tipped out. But when that unfortunate moment did come around she'd much rather be with Gil than anyone else. He was dumb, but he was her friend.
"Maybe it's because you're not evil?" he offered as an answer, and Queenie glared in response. "But it's true!"
The Red Queen's daughter wished she could tell him otherwise, but she couldn't. It was true, after all. She wasn't evil, far from it in fact. By Isle standards she was even considered 'good'. But on the Isle good was bad, and good would surely get you hurt; Or killed.
"So what if I'm not evil?" she scoffed, occasionally glancing upward at her tall friend. "Uma and Harry should know that. I didn't go to school here and get the lessons on 'how-to-be-evil'. I was raised in a castle, and just because I wasn't getting my ass handed to me every other day for not doing something 'bad-enough' does not mean I can't be trusted."
The son of Gaston stayed quiet after that, seemingly having no reply to her long-winded rant and - for the most part - Queenie was grateful. Anyone else would have mocked her for being so quick to announce that she wasn't like everyone else. Even when she'd first met the Core Four they'd been immediately sceptical, Mal especially giving Jay absolute hell for trying to bring someone so 'lady-like' and 'timid' into their group when they had a reputation to uphold. But Queenie had long-since assumed that her being 'good' had been their very reason for bringing her in. After all, even life on an island prison got a little too repetitive. She was something new for them to play with and corrupt, and Mal herself had taken on a great portion of teaching Queenie their ways, mischievously informing them that she 'loved a challenge'.
"We're here."
At the sound of Gil's voice, Queenie looked up, withdrawing herself from her memories to find that she'd been so deep in her own thoughts that she hadn't noticed their arrival.
"Could you wait for me?" she asked Gil, wringing her hands anxiously as she glanced up at him. "I just don't want anyone to walk in while I'm doing this."
If it'd been anyone other than Gil, they'd have merely scoffed and waved away her request, firmly stating that they went with her. But, thankfully, she was dealing with Gil, and despite his airheaded ways he was quite the loyal pirate.
"Sure." He moved a few feet away and leaned his back against the wall, his arms firmly crossed against his chest as he scanned their surroundings, a firm glare crossing his face that - at least to her - appeared so out of place when compared to his true personality.
"Thank you," she giggled. Queenie turned back toward the door and gave a hefty push, sliding herself in through the gap and letting the door shut loudly behind her.
As the young princess moved through the small hallway and toward the plastic curtains that led into the salon, she breathed in deep in a bid to calm her anxious mind. She truly loathed coming face-to-face with Lady Tremaine or her wicked daughters. It happened very rarely since they didn't appear too eager to actually work for a living, and Queenie mostly dealt with the youngest of the Tremaine family, but when they were around she couldn't completely focus. Anastasia and Drizzella were - for the most part - an annoyance, their scratchy and screeching voices constantly ringing in Queenie's ears long after she'd gone. But Lady Tremaine truly was the worst. Her green-eyed stare could slice through anyone's stony exterior, and she hardly ever spoke when she did so. All she did was stand and stare, and in some ways that was way worse than actually threatening. Queenie felt absolutely worthless in her presence, but to shed some positivity on a disturbing occurrence it did seem to make her get the job done quicker.
Queenie cautiously pulled back the transparent curtains and stepped inside the salon. She kept her steps light and her attention on high-alert, her eyes working around the dye-splattered room only to find it empty.
"Hello?" she called out.
"Queenie!"
The Princess of Hearts grunted and winced as a smaller form crashed into her stomach and chest. Two thin arms came around her waist like a vice, tightening until she finally felt she wouldn't be able to breathe anymore.
"H-hey Dizzy," gasped Queenie, slowly moving her arms around the youngest Tremaine to return the overly-enthusiastic hug she'd been given.
"Hi Queenie." The youngsters voice was muffled due to her face being pressed into Queenie's jacket, but the utter delight was there all the same. And despite not being able to breathe properly, Queenie couldn't find the will to push her away.
After leaving her mother in favour of living with the V.K.'s, Queenie hadn't made many friends. She hadn't really counted the Core Four as friends, per say. They'd been more like teachers, handing her small tasks and lightly scolding her for not doing her best. But all that changed when Evie dragged her to the salon one day stating that she needed 'some serious hair treatment', and introduced her to young Dizzy Tremaine. A wonderful hairdresser, fabulous designer and - most importantly - a huge breath of fresh air.
The youngest Tremaine was quite like Queenie herself, and the princess wondered if that was why they bonded so quickly when they first met. Both were quite reserved and shy around strangers, and neither were truly evil. They were just... there. Neither girl went searching for trouble and both stayed close to their homes and familiar territory. After spending so much time around Mal and the others, Queenie quite enjoyed hanging out with someone like herself. Someone who didn't have to bully or torment others to find their own happiness. Dizzy was young and maybe that's why she wasn't as evil as everyone around her, or maybe it was just how she was wired. Either way, Queenie loved to come and see her, and she always knew she was welcome by the little one.
"Where have you been?" Dizzy demanded suddenly, backing away from the princess with both hands placed sternly on her hips. "I've been going crazy around here," she continued, standing as tall as she could manage with her chin raised as she scolded the V.K..
"I'm sorry Dizz'," the princess apologised, her shoulders drooping as she thought back on the last time she'd come to visit the little one. "Honest. You know I love coming here, and I would've come sooner but..." Her voice trailed off into a long sigh, somewhat reluctant to let the little one know what she'd been up to since she'd last come through the salon.
"It's alright," the younger girl assured with a small nod, and Queenie smiled. It was a bit of a routine for them. If the princess stayed away too long, she was sure to receive a rather hilarious scolding from the youngest Tremaine, but it never lasted. Dizzy knew that Queenie had obligations to someone else, and that that someone else could keep Queenie away for a good while if he felt like it. The little one didn't hold grudges, and that was exactly the reason Queenie felt it was so easy to come back and see her.
"It's not alright, but thank you."
"So," the littlest Tremaine sighed pointedly, eyeing Queenie's long hair with a small glimmer of excitement in her eyes.
Queenie rolled her eyes. She knew exactly what the little one was hinting at, and though she'd planned on having her hair sorted for a little while now she knew that there was another reason for her coming to the salon.
"Actually Dizzy I...um-" Queenie paused as she stared at the little one in front of her. It truly broke her heart every single time Uma sent her to get the money from the 'Curl up & Dye', especially since she knew how hard it was to make a living on the Isle. But she had to do it.
"Oh," muttered Dizzy with realisation, the light in her eyes fading as both she and Queenie turned to look at the register.
"Do you have it all?" the princess asked gently, though a part of her knew the answer before it was even given.
The youngest Tremaine bowed her head and plucked out the key for the register. She slid the key into place and twisted, the drawer popping open with a loud 'ping'.
"I-It's been slow lately," she stuttered to explain as she pulled everything from the register, handing it over to a guilt-ridden Queenie.
The Princess of Hearts looked down and counted the money, a small grimace twisting her features as she realised it would cover Uma's 'protection payment' but leave the Tremaine's with nothing. Queenie knew what she had to do, but her overwhelming sympathies towards her little friend had her conflicted.
In the end, Queenie's selflessness won the fight.
"Okay, listen," the princess said quietly, quickly glancing at the door to make sure Gil hadn't come through to find her. "I'm going to take half of this and tell Uma it was all you had."
"But Queenie-"
The princess raised a hand as Dizzy began to object, effectively shushing the little one for now. "I know your Grandma," she said, "if she doesn't have the best of what the Isle has to offer then she'll go crazy. You'll be the one suffering for it since you're down here all the time and I can't let that happen."
Queenie looked down at her hand and removed a few bills, folding them up and handing them back to Dizzy. The little one fidgeted as she took the offered money, her eyes downcast to avoid looking up at the princess.
"Queenie, I-I can't," she whispered with a plead.
"You can," the princess stated, pocketing the rest of the cash.
"You don't understand," huffed Dizzy, raising her head.
Queenie sighed as she took note of Dizzy's emotional state. Clearly, the youngest Tremaine didn't want to take the money from her and possibly get her into some kind of trouble with Uma. But the Princess of Hearts was stubborn, and her mind would not be swayed. Plus, the thought of her little friend being worked to the bone just because she hadn't had the guts to step in and help sickened Queenie to her stomach. This wasn't the first time she'd refused to take all of the money and she knew it wouldn't be the last. All she could really do was stick to her plan and pray that it went in her favour once more.
"It's okay, Dizzy," the older girl reassured, reaching forward to wipe away a lone tear trailing its way down the little one's face. "I promised Evie I'd take care of you when she left, and that hasn't changed."
"Will you get into trouble?" asked Dizzy, cradling the money to her chest.
"No. I'll be fine."
A small white lie was much better than the painful truth of it all. Truthfully, Queenie feared what would be done to her if Uma found out she'd been sneaking around and lying, and gods help her if Harry knew what she was up to. But the princess was naturally submissive and skittish, and it'd gotten her this far with the pirates without raising any suspicion. Chances were that, like always, she wouldn't be caught out, and by the time they came back to the salon the Tremaine's would have enough money for both themselves and the crew.
"Okay, I have to go," the princess announced sadly, and Dizzy nodded in understanding. Queenie could only hope that the next time she came it would be her own decision. "I'll see you soon, 'kay?"
Before Queenie had the chance to leave, though, she found herself dragged back into a familiar bone-crushing hug. She ignored the pain this time and simply smiled, returning the act since she knew all too well she may not return for another week or so.
"Stay safe," the littlest Tremaine muttered, her arms loosening around Queenie's waist as the princess pulled back.
"I always do."
~...~...~...~...~
The journey toward the docks had been rather quiet; A little too quiet in the princess's opinion. Fortunately, though, it gave her enough time to form a credible excuse for Uma when she eventually found the strength to drag herself into the Chip Shoppe. She hadn't managed to come up with anything reasonable quite yet, but Queenie did have a few ideas mulling around in her brain that she could use when the time came, and - for now at least - that was enough.
Queenie warily moved behind Gil toward the entrance, and when he stopped to speak to the red-head that frequently occupied the porch just outside of the Shoppe, she stepped back and turned her head away.
"Uma here?"
"No, she went to the ship," the woman replied.
Queenie moved her head to the side in a flash, her eyes widening at the realisation that it wasn't Uma she'd be dealing with that night.
"Oh, okay, thanks." Gil turned to face Queenie, an apologetic grimace crossing his face.
"I-I guess I better get to the ship then," she said unsurely, hoping the small smile of feigned confidence she gave him would conceal the distress she felt bubbling just underneath the surface.
"Be careful," he told her, looking down as he scuffed the edge of his shoe against the wooden floor.
The smile Queenie gave him then wasn't at all false, and the hug she gave him afterward even less so. Finding friends on the Isle was a difficult thing and for her especially, since she'd long-since been deemed the property of the first mate. No one talked to her at the risk of Harry finding out and 'hooking' them: Not even those who may have only had good intentions. Her loneliness tormented her the most and, despite Gil acting and thinking much like a child would, Queenie couldn't quite explain the gratefulness she felt towards him whenever he showed her a small act of kindness. He and Dizzy were the only ones who treated her with a shred of decency, and that meant more to her than all the riches they had over in Auradon.
"I'll try," she said, pulling herself from his warmth with much reluctance.
Gil left her outside then, giving her a heavy pat on the shoulder before he entered the Shoppe, and Queenie finally made her way down the ramps and toward the ship.
The young princess shivered and brought her arms toward her chest, lightly rubbing up and down her arms in an effort to bring some heat to her body. Even now she still didn't understand the pirates' love for the water. The ocean air was disgusting. The constant odour of salt swept in through her nostrils and - if she was there too long - gave her a huge headache. And since they had no sunshine on the Isle, what with the large grey clouds surrounding their small prison, it was always cold down near the docks. She personally preferred to stay on dry land. The middle of the Isle was packed with crowds, stalls and buildings, blocking out the harsh conditions they had to face on a daily basis.
'Then again,' she thought. 'I'm not a pirate.'
Queenie eventually found herself stood at the edge of the ramp leading onto Uma's ship, and for a moment she had to stop and gather herself. She took a quick glance around, satisfied to see that people were much too busy dealing with their own tasks to focus on her small panic attack. She breathed in deeply and finally stepped onto the ramp, resisting the urge to vomit over the side as she inhaled a large dose of salty air.
The crew aboard the ship ignored her for the most part as she walked by, though Queenie could feel their eyes drilling holes into the back of her head as she walked. She knew they wouldn't do anything to hurt her, not when they knew who she belonged to, but the unsettling weight of their sneers and nasty glares urged her to move faster down into the belly of the ship, and so she moved just a little bit quicker.
Queenie released a sigh of relief once she reached the darkened hallway inside of the ship, the lanterns on the walls lighting her path as she walked. She scolded herself repeatedly in her head, reprimanding herself for not collecting the money sooner after Gil had told her about Mal being on the T.V.. If Queenie had gotten things over and done with just a little bit quicker, then she may have managed to catch the Captain before she went into the ship for some 'down time'. Everyone knew not to bother Uma when she was in a mood, so when the time did come for the Captain to retreat for a little while, everyone had to report back to the first mate instead.
And oh, how Queenie hated that fact. The princess would gladly take Uma over Harry every time. It didn't matter that the Captain held some sort of distain for the little princess, always greeting her with back-handed remarks or looking down at her. Uma was, for the most part, calm. She didn't lose her temper often, and if she was angry with someone Queenie could usually see it on her face. It certainly made steering herself away from a threat a little easier. But Harry was different. If the first mate was angry with someone, then no one would know until it was too late, and the person that caused it was lying in a puddle of their own blood. His constant attitude of indifference was what made him terrifying, and Queenie still hadn't learned how to read him just yet, which only served to make things worse. She was small and fast and that usually helped her escape some kind of attack, but it wouldn't ever work with him. Harry liked to play around and he wouldn't ever go straight after someone unless he knew he had them locked. He preferred to take his time, dancing around the subject at hand or even walking away until things calmed down, and only then would he make his move.
In a nutshell, Harry was violent and cunning; And that was why Queenie was so scared of him.
Queenie wavered as she stood just outside of Harry's closed door, twisting a long strand of hair around her fingers on impulse. She hadn't thought of what to say to him: She could barely lie to Uma on a good day, let alone to Harry. But she had to. If he caught her out and found out exactly why she'd lied, he'd go straight to the 'Curl up & Dye' and take it out on Dizzy's salon, knowing full well it'd hurt Queenie more than anything to see her friend suffer for her own dumb actions.
"Are ya gonna stand there all bloody day?"
The young princess froze, her hands pausing in their ministrations as she heard his voice. She'd been stupid to think he'd been in his room. He'd most likely been with Uma, ensuring his Captain was alright before he came back to his own quarters.
"I-I was just thinking," she said back, cursing the stutter in her voice. She stayed still for the time being, placing a shaky hand to her chest to calm her racing heart once more.
The hallway became eerily silent, only doubled by the fact that Queenie knew Harry was behind her. She knew he was thinking, but she dreaded to know what was exactly going through his mind. It was either that or he was toying with her, letting her stand and soak in the unwavering apprehension only he could make her feel. She just wished he'd stop fucking around and finally say something.
Queenie held her breath as she felt his presence right behind her back, her eyes tightly shut as she let her arms hang down near her sides. She winced as a familiar and cold object grazed the back of her neck, the hook gathering her thick locks of dark-brown hair to bring them over her left shoulder.
Queenie tried to remind herself that Harry wouldn't hurt her: Not without a reason anyway. He terrified her more than anything else on the Isle, but he was still the only one who helped her when she needed it the most. However, Harry was quite the sadist, feeding off of the fear and sadness he instilled on many of the Isle residents, and she was no exception to the rule.
The first mate leaned forward, his motions forcing Queenie to do the same unless she wanted to be even closer to him, and pulled the handle down on the door.
"After you princess," he chuckled low and into her ear, apparently satisfied with the reaction she'd given him.
Knowing better than to stall, Queenie did as asked and walked into the bedroom, her panic lessening somewhat as she put a good amount of distance between herself and Harry.
"I have the money," she told him as he came in close behind her, settling into the usual routine of lighting the lantern in his own room.
The faint glow of light allowed Queenie to better see her surroundings, and she forced herself to refrain from wrinkling her nose. She was, by no means, a fussy cleaner, but apparently Harry wasn't one for chores. His room was an absolute pig-sty. Clothes strewn about the floor, the bed unmade, his desk cluttered with random objects he'd most likely stolen. She could only thank the gods that he'd had the decency to open up the window before he left.
"All of it?" he asked her, stepping over the items covering the floor to place his coat on a nearby hook, his hat also being placed neatly above the mess he'd created.
"Not exactly," she muttered quietly.
A loud bang rang out inside the room and Queenie flinched. He'd struck his hook into the small table on the right-hand side of his bed. Not hard enough to get the weapon lodged deeply into the wood, but with enough force to have the desired effect.
He wasn't happy, that much was obvious. But Queenie hadn't doubted that. She'd already started, now she just had to see it through to the end. Hopefully with all of her limbs firmly attached to her body.
"An' why's that then?" he wondered, leaning back against the object he'd just assaulted with a contemplative look on his face.
Queenie tried to look directly at his face, she really did, but eventually she had to look away. She couldn't handle it, he simply terrified her too much for her to keep eye contact while lying.
"Dizzy told me things were going slow," she eventually found the strength to say, her gaze instead travelling to the mess of clothes at his feet. "I took everything she had but it wasn't enough."
Harry didn't stay still for long. Soon enough, Queenie found herself looking down at his boot-clad feet, and she mentally pleaded with herself to stay calm as bile rose in her throat.
The first mate was - by no means - a genius in any way. He couldn't tell time: Though Queenie had safely assumed his father was to blame for this fact, since she was sure the ticking of the clocks was what drove him to insanity. And, despite often bragging about how well he could control himself, Harry's anger issues definitely needed some work. But intimidation was what he was best at. Whether he'd learnt it from his father, or he'd somehow obtained the skill by himself over the years, she wasn't sure. Either way, he had a strange and dark kind of aura surrounding him, and added to the constant manic grin on his face and charming accented voice... well, he'd truly mastered the art of it.
Whatever it was he did that made him so scary when he didn't speak, it worked wonders on Queenie. And it rendered her completely submissive in his presence.
"Hand it over then princess," he whispered.
Queenie reached her hand into her pocket and pulled out the money she'd taken from Dizzy. She slowly held it out to him, using the majority of whatever she had left of her inner-strength to keep her hand from shaking.
Instead of taking the cash offered to him, Harry grasped at Queenie's small wrist with a tight grip. Not quite hard enough to cause any long term damage, but enough to get his point across and have her mind reeling.
A warning.
"She didn' say anythin' else?" he pressed.
Queenie's eyes flickered toward the shiny hook he held in his left hand, the very little confidence she had faltering at the sight of it. She could go back on her word now and spare herself from a horrible punishment, beg him to give her a second chance to go and get the rest of the money. But then she thought of little Dizzy, and how she'd be the one to suffer if Queenie didn't just get her shit together and follow through with her lie.
'C'mon Queenie,' she urged herself.
The princess blinked and, finally, made a move she hoped would catch him off guard and throw away any doubts he might have had about her.
Queenie carefully lifted her head up, her neck craned awkwardly as her eyes found their destination. He was significantly taller than her, and a hell of a lot bigger, which made looking up at him as painful as it was unnerving.
Keeping eye contact on the Isle of the Lost was a bit of a tricky situation. Most took it as a sign of defiance, or even a challenge. The stronger villains and their children often kept their heads raised, constantly looking at anyone around them that might do something as small as stare back. Meanwhile, the lesser villains, much like Queenie herself, did everything possible to avoid it. Always keeping their heads down or turned away, all worrying over what might happen if they weren't quick enough to swerve being caught. It showed fear and respect, everything the stronger villains thrived off of.
Which is how Queenie knew it'd throw Harry.
"She didn't say anything else," she assured him, mentally applauding herself for not having cowered away as soon as her hazel eyes met his blue ones.
The first mate stared back down at the princess, brows furrowed in thought and slight intrigue. He was surprised, that much she was sure of, but she never could quite tell with him.
"I can go back tomorrow and get the rest of it?" she offered.
Harry hummed to let her know he'd her loud and clear, though he didn't give her any demands. His eyes stayed on her face for a little bit longer, sceptically roaming her features for something.
"Nah," he said finally, taking the money from her hand as he stepped back.
Queenie released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. "Why's that?" she asked, keeping her tone light on the off chance something other than simple curiosity would unravel her lie.
Harry shoved the money into his coat pocket before turning back to face her. "I'll 'ave ta teach her a lesson, won' I?" It wasn't a question, and she definitely didn't have an answer. "I mean, we can' 'ave people makin' late payments now, can we?"
"I-I guess not," the princess answered, lowering her eyes once more as she twirled her hair between her fingers. Queenie done her part, now all she could do was pray that he didn't go too hard on Dizzy, and hope that her little friend wouldn't rat her out. Although, that was high in probability if Harry decided to push down on the youngest Tremaine.
There was a faint shuffling and, once again, Queenie found herself unbearably close to the first mate. She swallowed down the vomit threatening to make its way to the surface, and this time she kept her eyes on his chest. Keeping a steady gaze with him once had both mentally and emotionally drained her, and she couldn't bare to do it again.
"I-I should go," she said hopefully, her voice making it seem as though she were asking him rather than telling him.
"Aye, ye should." Harry moved away from her personal bubble, and Queenie turned slowly as to not raise any more suspicion, her shaking hands clasping the cold door handle.
For a moment she truly thought she'd gotten away with lying to him. 'Finally,' she thought, a small part of her revelling in the fact she'd managed to slip past the infamous Harry Hook.
"Jus' one quick thing princess," he called out from behind her.
Queenie could feel the cold air coming through the crack in the door. Just a few more steps and she'd been out in the hallway and away from Harry. But she knew better than to ignore him, and so she turned around.
The hook in his hand was what she saw first. It was raised in front of his face, the fingers of his right hand trailing along the curve until they fiddled with the sharp point. He was looking down at it thoughtfully, his bottom lip gently clasped between his teeth as he psychoanalyzed his beloved object.
Harry didn't have many tells, but Queenie had seen this one on more than a few occasions. Specifically before he 'hooked' someone.
The princess tensed, her eyes widening as a familiar sickness struck her stomach once again. She made the foolish mistake of looking up at his face, and found he wasn't so fascinated with his hook anymore.
"How stupid do ya think I am?"
AN;
So that's the end of this chapter. I hope you guys liked it. There wasn't much going on here but it is the first chapter, so it's more of an introduction into the OC's life and personality more than anything.
I hope you like it, and please make sure to leave a Review. Suggestions are also appreciated. Thanks