Prologue
Ursula dies when Uma is 16.
There is no funeral.
No wake.
No mourning.
There are no tears for the woman. Not even from her own daughter.
Ursula's body is cremated, ashes in an urn tucked down into the bottom of Uma's knapsack that holds some of the girl's clothes and the few other personal belongings she possessed. Around her neck, hanging like a heavy weight is her mother's necklace.
Uma doesn't know why she still keeps the damn thing. It's tarnished and Ursula, when she wasn't black out drunk or out with her male "friends", always claimed the damn thing was cursed. But the shell shaped necklace is her mother's and some small silly part of Uma clings on to it. Besides, Uma's life had never been easy. She doubted a cursed necklace could make it any worse.
"Is there anything else you think you'll need?"
Uma glances around the room. It's a quaint little studio above a quaint little coffee shop in a quaint little seaside town. (The total opposite of the busy city street's she was used to.) It's not much, but it's cleaner than the small two bedroom apartment in Harlem her mother had managed to find, and it's furnished and it's hers along with the coffee shop, Flotsam and Jetsam, beneath it.
Well, she thought, turning back to the man who was now her legal guardian for the next two years and her mother's former partner (in business and other areas), it was half hers.
"No," she shakes her head pausing before muttering almost as an afterthought, "Thank you, Captain Jones."
He laughs a bright hardy sound, and Uma can understand briefly how the man in front of her matches with the man her mother told her stories about when she was nostalgic and drunk on cheap wine and spirits. Uma never liked her mother drunk but the times when Ursula was nostalgic, always so soft and gentle and almost loving when she talked about this man were the worst because the next morning, after Uma was plagued by dreams filled with too tempting "what-ifs", Ursula would wake up in a fouler mood than usual, cursing and hitting and spitting at anything in sight.
Uma never knew she could hate a man she had never met until she met Killian Jones, dark eyes filled with pity for little lost girl Uma.
(She didn't need his pity. She didn't need anyone…)
"Killian is just fine, lass. And no need to thank me. You're practically family," he corrected her with a smile that even at his age would make most women and men swoon. Uma didn't return it, instead she tossed her bag with everything she brought from New York onto the bed, beginning to unpack.
Sighing at the obvious dismissal, Killian couldn't help but shake his head. Proud like her mother, he thought to himself before saying aloud, "I guess I'll leave you to it. You have my number if you need anything."
"I won't," Uma responded automatically before sighing and giving a bit more politer (though not by much), "I'll be fine," as she continued to unpack.
Knowing when he was unwanted, Killian said his goodbye before leaving the young woman to her own devices.
It wasn't until Uma heard the door close behind him that she let out a deep sigh, flopping on to the bed and ignoring the way that some of the objects that she unpacked poked into her as she laid on top of them. She stayed that way for awhile, watching as the setting sun casted long shadows in the room, eyes closing when the exhaustion of the last few days caught up to her.
So this idea has been playing around in the back of my head for awhile now. I have a basic outline of where this will go but not 100%. I might use a few OUAT characters but for the most part this is a Descendants story since the main focus will be Harry and Uma.
I'll be taking word prompts for this story so if you have any suggestions, send them to me in an ask on Tumblr at edream93.
As always, let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy!