Woot! The winning story of the poll!

I make no le fric and all other useless disclaimers about how I don't own Descendant's as Disney has better things to do than sue a broke student which they would probably lose anyway due to Fair Use, 17 U.S.C. § 107. Also, if anyone asks this work is a nonprofit educational tool. ;-D

While you may hear repeated names and some themes, this story is completely divorced and separate from Legacy of Evil. I already did a bunch of research for that for ancillary characters and backstory, I don't think I should have to reinvent everything for every different Descendants story I do. Work smarter, not harder. lol

Carlos de Vil loved technology, he took after his uncle Pablo Hernando "P.H." de Vil. Technically P.H. was his first cousin once removed, but that was awkward to say so he called him his uncle. Both would spend hours tinkering with the cast offs of the Mainland and tried to make their impoverished little island a little more bearable. They both had a love for science and aptitude for technology, the only good thing about the Isle was that they could spend all the many hours of the day experimenting to their hearts' content.

They lived on the outskirts of town, hidden in a warehouse that looked as dilapidated as the any other old building in the former fishing island turned prison. They had devised a special door that would only let them in if they pulled a hidden lever and led to a hidden staircase. Most assumed P.H. lived on the first floor; a ratted mattress placed haphazardly in a corner, and rotting food discarded in a pile was enough to fool the citizenry. The first floor of their home looked like most hovels that anyone on the Isle would have.

The second floor that only they could get to was clean and filled with various experiments. There were piles of clutter, appliances taken apart to their individual pieces and some remade to be better. There were also designs for improvement not realized because of their lack of resources.

Their home was the only place on the island that had fully functioning and stable electricity, a washer and dryer, and a heater. Under his uncle's tutalage, Carlos had created a generator that ran on organic waste and both enjoyed warm showers and hot food every night. Their jobs on the island were humble waste collectors, no one the wiser that what they collected let them live the most comfortable lives as anyone could while imprisoned.

Carlos led a sheltered life, tutored by his uncle instead of attending the makeshift school the citizens dubbed "Dragon Hall." P.H. had ranted and raved that it was taught by second rate scientists that weren't fit to teach making ice, much less a proper curriculum. The teen didn't fight it, he wasn't eager to attend a school filled with the children of villains and children of villains' henchmen. His memory of them were that all of them were hyper aggressive and trying to prove themselves that they were their parents reborn. It also didn't help that the entire Isle was in a constant food shortage, hunger pains made them all the meaner.

He had attended one day, was bullied the entire time, and he never stepped foot there again. He was pretty sure no one remembered the small freckled two toned haired boy ever existed.

He was happy to hide away and build things. His current project was a 3D printer, he hoped he could mass produce some much needed items: nails, tools, and other things that were hard to come by and the Mainland never thought to donate. There was plenty of scrape metal from abandoned buildings and whatever was left over after the Isle was abandoned by Auradonian citizens and replaced with prisoners.

If the islanders had better supplies to fix their homes or build something new, then maybe life on the Isle could feel more civilized.

The only regret he had from being so isolated was in the form of a beautiful girl that came around to collect taxes.

His uncle took care of dealing with Mal, the daughter of Maleficent, who was the main tax collector. Uncle ranted that it was extortion, plain and simple. There was no need for the euphemism of "tax" when they did nothing for the Isle.

Carlos disagreed, there was a certain severe but functional order to the island with Maleficent in charge. The prisoners weren't just manic villains who were completely incompetent and couldn't take over the world even if they had a genie and unlimited wishes. There were a few, but they were not the majority.

Some were murderers, rapists, and unrepentant killers. Nameless villains who caused pain and wreaked havoc for the simple pleasure they got out it. They remained unknown simply because they lacked the finesse and appeal of a villain who tried to take over the world or fought with royalty.

Just because they weren't notorious or in fairy tales didn't mean they weren't dangerous.

Maleficent, respectfully called Mächtiger and undisputed Leader of the Isle, had killed those villains off immediately. There were some villains even the other villains could not tolerate. She had no patience or lenience for rapists or those who killed for sport. She had done what King Adam has refused to do, execute those who were too savage even for the Isle.

They paid a "tax" and the teen genius thought it was well worth every scrap of metal or something they could repurpose that they collected in the dead of night. While their main apartment was hidden, if a thief or thug was so inclined to look closer or climb up the sides then they would find their true home and the two would lose everything they had.

He also had nightmares that a lesser gangster would see his potential and use him to make weapons. He had thought to do so a couple years ago, wondering if it would be prudent to add that layer of protection to their home. His uncle put a stop to that once he found his sketches and calculations.

"You do not want to open that Pandora's Box, Carlos. Once they figure you can make weapons, that's the end. You'd be little better than a slave, inventing for whatever gangster wants you. It is also why we do not share the generator or garden. You may want to help them, but that is not how it works on the Isle. They'd simply take it for themselves and profit off it. Gods know what they'd do to a small boy like you. A pretty pale thing who's never fought a day in his life? Males like us do not last long, it's best we keep our heads down and out of the way."

So any weapons he might have created to protect themselves were shelved and forgotten. It went the same for a massive public generator, who knew what Maleficent or the others would force them to do if they were found out.

So instead he helped create a garden that grew with the little sunlight the Isle could get. Items that could be easily kept secret. The small generator he was able to build powered bulbs that supplemented the dim sunlight the pollution did allow to pass through, the windows blacked out so no one from the outside would see the unnaturally bright light. They were comfortable. They were well fed and Maleficent provided protection from the other residents.

So Carlos spent the days studying any new science books the mainland provided, usually ten years old and probably sorely outdated but well enough for the island, and came up with idea after idea to make his home a better place. His uncle gave him lessons in math, science, and writing. The teen probably hadn't talked to another islander is over a decade. He could only hide and watch others live their life on the hostile land.

Carlos liked to spy from the second floor while his uncle went out to meet Mal, reverently called Drachenkind by her henchmen, and paid the tax. It took several weeks, but he had perfected a spy glass from old wine bottles and broken mirrors.

It was a sad state of affairs, but the first of the month was his favorite as he got a chance to catch a glimpse of a girl he thought himself in love with since he was thirteen. He waited to hear the fading sound of footsteps as his uncle wet out to deliver the tribute, he eagerly went to a checkered stain glass window that was just opaque enough to obscure his visibility.

He adjusted the spy glass and focused it on the petite fae.

The daughter of Maleficent stood proudly, flanked by two henchmen that were just a little north of six feet and more muscles than anyone on an impoverished Isle ought to have. It was a weird dichotomy, a girl who couldn't be more than 5'2" and these behemoths gave her deference and followed her orders without delay.

His uncle knew he liked to watch the exchange, he told P.H. it was to get a clear view without being noticeable; which was true. He didn't add that he wanted a clear view of Mal, if his uncle assumed that it was for safety then there was nothing to say the device couldn't serve a dual purpose.

Although he knew he couldn't be seen, it always made his breath hitch when Mal would look directly at the scope; it seemed she could somehow sense his eyes on her, but the fact she never said anything to P.H. or demanded to search the warehouse meant that it was only a gut feeling on her part, not something she felt was an actual threat to her.

It was jarring at first, he had illogically jumped away from his viewer and hid; worried that she could somehow see him despite the scope being well hidden and even if she could make out the instrument, she would not be able to see him because that was not how spy glasses worked.

Now he just admired and was in awe of her beautiful mischievous grin. He could never hear them, but his uncle always seemed rather annoyed after paying taxes. With her delicate features and magenta hair, it was clear she was of fae descent. Her rounded ears and lack of horns and wings indicated she was half human. Unfortunately, P.H. was never one to gossip, so Carlos never got a clear answer as to Mal's sire.

Given his massive crush on her and his late night fantasies that led to certain activities, he prayed to whatever god that was listening that they didn't share a father. He didn't think they shared any features, but he was predominantly a de Vil and Mal was her mother in human miniature. It was totally possible that if they shared a parent, then any potential shared sire's features were lost amongst much stronger genes.

He had attempted to glean any information from his uncle to dispel his worries, but the man was as in the dark as anyone; Cruella apparently never spoke of who fathered him and she died without telling anyone, taking the secret of his paternity to her grave.

Besides his own gut feeling, or perhaps so deeply in denial he believed what he wished to believe, he also didn't think someone of Maleficent's caliber would share a man with Cruella de Vil. Although labeled a villain worth banishing to the Isle of the Lost, most other villains, at least from what his uncle had told him, never really considered his mother to be one of them. From the few times his uncle would talk of his beloved cousin, he didn't think she was one of them as well.

"You may hear a lot of things regarding your mother. But know that she was a brilliant designer and a shrewd business woman. Under her leadership, the de Vils went from well off fur traders to one of the wealthiest families in all of Auradon. It was her funding that started my technology research and business and why each de Vil was wealthy in their own right. What she did was wrong, but she did not deserve banishment. She wasn't a villain, she was sick."

P.H. had talked about schizophrenia and manic episodes, words that didn't make a lot of sense to him, but he felt sorry for the mother he never knew. He couldn't imagine not being in control of his actions in such a way, he wished he could go back in time and help her somehow.

Cruella's banishment was how his genius uncle had come to be on the island. He thought his cousin's sentence was unjust, grossly harsh, and had attempted to break her out using his own inventions. He had managed to create a hole in the barrier and almost had her out, but Nadine FéeMarraine (more famously known as The Fairy Godmother) was quick with her wand and all he had gained from his efforts was his own exile.

While imprisonment on the Isle of the Lost was not something he would wish on his worst enemy, Carlos couldn't help but be grateful for his uncle's presence. He didn't know what was worse, being raised at the mercy of the villains or with a sick mother who probably was in no shape to take care of him. Something told him that if P.H. wasn't around, then Carlos would not have lived past a few days after his birth. He never knew Cruella and although P.H. clearly loved his cousin, his uncle also never shied away when telling him she was ill and wouldn't have been fit to raise him even if she had lived. Hearing about the animal cruelty and how far she went to get a fur coat, Carlos could agree that his mother was ill. Even if she hadn't been imprisoned, his uncle told him he would have raised him regardless.

"You're like me, smart and handsome. Your idiot uncle Cecil and his stupid ponytail wouldn't have known what to do with you. No, I was always meant to take care of you."

He was also aware that Cruella had a husband that followed her into banishment. When she died of childbed fever, he had disappeared and no one had any idea where he went. Most assumed he had died of heartbreak. Carlos had wondered if that was his father, but P.H. told him it was unlikely.

"I knew Fisher for a long time…you are not his son and I'll leave it at that."

He doubted he would ever find out who is father was, since he had P.H. he wasn't all that bothered by it. There were plenty of fatherless orphans on the Isle, it was not some rare occurrence. Titles and marital status meant little, so he was content to work on his gadgets and collect waste in the dead of night to not be noticed.

He didn't count on the beautiful fae to be clever enough to find him nor that the other scientists on the Isle were determined to gain their freedom, at any cost.

One morning they were in the central part of their apartment, a cleared out space that most would consider a living room. It's where they would longue in their off time, a perfectly functioning television sat in front of a worn red couch.

P.H. paced around the room, nervous about the summons he had received. Carlos sat in a small wooden chair, one they had found in their rummaging. He too was nervous as it was a rare occurrence, and usually never a good one, to be summoned by Maleficent.

"Do you have any idea of what she wants?" Carlos asked, hoping his uncle had a logical and non-lethal idea.

"No. All taxes are paid on time and we faithfully carry out waste disposal. No one should have any qualms with us, and no reason Mächtiger should want to speak to me."

He continued to pace the room, the movement calming his nerves less he have a total panic attack.

"Maybe she wants to give you some sort of commendation…I doubt the streets had ever been so clean until we started to collect rubbish."

It was a long shot, but it was his best hope.

P.H. had stopped and stared from across the room. It was clear that he did not think that was the case at all.

"If we found a way off the island, I doubt even then Maleficent would commend us then."

That was true enough, the fae notorious for being mercurial and never known to show appreciation. It made Carlos' stomach twist in fear and worry, would he be entirely alone the coming evening?

Carlos wished he had created at least something to protect themselves. It may not have been enough to fend off all of Mächtiger's henchmen, but it would have at least given uncle a fighting chance.

Still, without delay P.H. had put on his best clothes and trudged over to the Bargain Castle; it was Maleficent's store front that made her seem like any other legitimate business the Isle offered, rather than the leader of the quasi-government crime syndicate. While the Crown had all but abandoned them to their fate, she was smart enough to know it was better to always remain hidden rather than get cocky and potentially incur King Adam's attention.

He was nervous for his uncle, but he knew there was nothing for him to do about it. If something were to happen, then the plan was for him to gather the hydroponic and generator technology and escape to the country. There was a hidden cabin far into the heart of the Isle, where most would not bother going that remote. He would live alone and hopefully never be bothered again.

He wasn't exactly a fan of that plan, he wasn't sure if he could stay sane if he were literally by himself for the rest of his life at only seventeen. So he had to hope that whatever Maleficent wanted, he wouldn't be losing an uncle and the only family he had.

The sun had been up for several hours and Carlos fell asleep despite his worry, his internal clock set to being awake at night. He was in a light sleep stage when he was awoken, he was dazed and confused from his slumber; he had picked up on some unusual sounds, ones that he subconsciously knew shouldn't be there at that time of day and with his uncle gone.

Sound of footsteps and someone chewing loudly.

Through bleary eyes, he saw a tall boy around his age standing over him as he chewed on a carrot from the hydroponic garden. It still took a few seconds for his brain to process what he was seeing, once he realized that someone who wasn't a de Vil was in his home, his first instinct was to panic and get away.

The other boy wasn't having any of that.

"Whoa, there skunky. You're not going anywhere," the intruder said, looking amused that he would even try and Carlos found himself trapped when the boy had placed his foot on his throat. So Carlos was immobile and any movement would have his airway crushed.

If he weren't so scared, he might have been insulted at the nickname he was unceremoniously given.

And that's why I didn't want to go to public school.

He was certain he would have had to put up with a lot of other horrible names because of his bi-colored hair. To add salt to the wound, the boy was also munching on food he obviously stole.

With one muscular arm around himself, the boy had continued to chew loudly on the bright orange vegetable, not looking a bit perturbed; as if he wasn't holding Carlos hostage.

"I like this thing, what is it?" the boy asked with a mouth full of food, curiously looking at it from different sides.

Carlos winced, finding it particularly disgusting to see half chewed food with bits and pieces escaping as he talked.

"It's called a 'carrot' Jay," a feminine voice informed him, a purple haired girl came into the room, cradling a book and only half paying attention to what her companion was doing.

Carlos froze when he realized who it was, he hadn't recognized her voice as he had never been close enough to ever hear her speak.

He cursed the gods as this was not how he imagined their first meeting, trapped under a massive boy's foot. He also didn't imagine that she would be so cavalier to his predicament.

Although he was basically being held against his will, he couldn't help but feel she looked lovely as the sunlight hit her shining purple hair and as she read what looked to be one of his science books.

It seemed she was done readying as she quickly snapped the book shut and looked directly at him, eyeing him up and down. She went to stand next to her friend, her head barely coming to his shoulder.

Doesn't she know any short people?

It seemed she was always around tall muscular men, it started to grate on his nerves.

"Well, this is not the best first impressions but that's a luxury we don't really get on the Isle. I am Maleficent, this is Jay. You may call me Mal," she started cordially enough with introductions. "As you can see, my friend is rather large and he doesn't just look strong, he is strong. Strong and fast. So after we let you up, you're not going to do anything dumb like say, try to run away or attack, will you?"

He of course shook his head "no," at least as much as he could with Jay's foot still on his throat. He didn't think anyone would be dumb enough, even Jason and Harry—the two sons of his late mother's henchmen—, to try to harm the heiress to the Isle.

Maleficent would not grant a short merciful death; anyone on the Isle who would be moronic enough to harm the precious heiress would probably find themselves suffering for days, if not months.

"Good," she said brightly, and with a wave of her hand, Jay had let off the pressure and stood back.

Carlos swallowed hard, his throat a little tender but no worse for wear. He rubbed his throat to ease some of the ache and brought himself up so he was at least upwards. He kept sitting on his bed, taking a submissive position and hoping neither had nefarious reasons for visiting his home.

He had worried something would happen to his uncle, he never thought he would have to worry about the attention of Maleficent on himself.

"So, you're clearly a de Vil," the fae started off, still studying him; trying to figure out what to make of him. The white and black hair of de Vil was notorious all throughout Auradon and the Isle, some wondered if it was a mark of fairkind blood somewhere in the family. As far as Mal was aware, none of them had every claimed so.

"What's your name?"

"Carlos," he replied, his voice a little rough from the mistreatment of his throat and still bogged with sleep.

She had known there was another person in the Warehouse. Not specifically a teen boy her age, but someone else. She could always feel his eyes on her whenever she came around for taxes.

"I didn't know Paulie had a son."

"Paulie?" he had fantasized what their first conversation would be, this wasn't it.

"Oh, just a little nickname I gave him. Annoys him, I find it funny," she smiled impishly. "What do you call him? Father?"

"He's not my father, he's my uncle. And I just call him P.H."

"How is he your uncle?" Jay asked, confused as to how Carlos could be here if P.H. wasn't his father. He didn't know of any other de Vils on the Isle. He walked away from the bed and started to nose around the room, taking liberty to inspect anything he wanted. If Carlos wasn't so nervous, he'd be rather annoyed.

"His mother was Cruella," Mal informed him.

"Who?"

"You know…Cru-ell-a de Vil, Cru-ell-a de Vil, if she doesn't scare you, no evil thing will…" she sang the infamous song, trying to jog his memory.

Carlos grimaced, he had heard the song his first day of school. It was another reason why he chose not to attend. While the story of his mother might be well known, he hated that was all anyone knew of her.

He didn't believe anyone was all evil, even Maleficent and Jafar had loved their children; at least from what he could tell. Cruella might have loved him too, if she had the chance. He was grateful for P.H., at least he knew that his mother was an iconic designer and loved fur. He would imagine that maybe if she had lived, they could have bonded over clothes. He fantasized that she would have made outfits just for him, would have taught him how to make sketches and while he didn't really have a passion for creating outfits, he certainly would have been proud to wear anything she would have made for him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jay again denied having any idea who Cruella de Vil was, clearly a villainess before his time. Mal just rolled her eyes and moved on.

"The real question is, why are you hidden? I've never seen you in school…or anywhere else for that matter."

And she has been around the Isle enough to basically know everyone. As her mother's heiress and second in command, knowledge was power and she wasn't all too happy that there was a hidden child of a notorious villain she didn't know about.

She also had been around long enough to know there were villains worse than others, and hiding a handsome boy away set off alarms.

He struggled to come up with an excuse that didn't reveal their inventions, although he was certain they had seen plenty; Jay certainly helped himself to their garden.

Mal saw his hesitance as proof of abuse. She crouched down so she was eye level with him, and he was rendered speechless at how soft and worried she looked. Her eyes were a deep jade with veins of gold, he found himself getting lost in their beauty.

"Are you safe here?"

"What?" he was confused by the question and he couldn't concentrate when she used such a soothing tone and she had such pouty lips.

"Do you need our help? Is your uncle keeping you here against your will?"

She reached a hand to gently cover his own, trying to convey that he didn't need to be scared of them.

Ohhh…..she's touching me. She's really touching me…her hands are so soft.

He knew he really ought to answer but he still wasn't sure what she was talking about.

"Against my will?" he questioned once it finally got through to him what she was asking.

Why would my uncle keep me against my will?

Jay lost patience with Mal walking on eggshells around the issue,

"She wants to know if he's fucking you."

"Thank you, Jay," she huffed at her friend, not wanting to traumatize the boy.

"You're welcome," he replied cheekily. He didn't think the kid was being abused, Mal couldn't see that she was rendering Carlos a blathering idiot and if he were abused then Jay doubted he would be as love struck.

"What?! NO…gods no…eww…he's my uncle…it is not like that at all…he has never…I have never…"

He turned tomato red and couldn't look at her when he realized what he just admitted.

Mal had never seen someone get so flustered, it was rather adorable.

"OK, then why hide you away?"

"I don't want to be some mob boss's flunky," Carlos immediately said, wanting to clear his uncle's name although in hindsight he wished he had thought that through.

"Ah," she understood him perfectly, putting it all together. "You are a smart one. I assume the garden is your invention?"

He kept quiet as he had figured he had said too much already.

"I know Paulie wouldn't eat a real vegetable if he could help it. He loves to regale us with all the 'junk food' he misses from the Mainland when I come collecting."

He knew exactly what she was talking about as that was his uncle's main gripe about the Isle to him as well. Carlos was certain P.H. would have had died of a heart attack a long time ago if he only ate whatever he could catch and smother with salt or fat.

"And the generator? All the lights and contraptions, the hidden stairs, are all of those yours too?"

He really wished that he and P.H. had come up with some sort of plan, other than running away which turned out to be a complete bust, for if he were ever confronted. He didn't know how to explain any of it and all he could think of was his future under Maleficent's heel. That's if she didn't punish them both severely for holding out on her.

"She asked you a question," Jay growled and started to walk aggressively towards the bed, not liking how the boy was so quiet and seeing it as disrespect.

"It's alright Jay…I don't think he's had much socialization. Well the answer to that is to have us over for dinner," although she was smiling, Carlos couldn't help the chill that ran through his body. This was not a friendly "get to know you" dinner and he started to become sick with worry as to what it meant.

Jay was just as confused and he did a double take when she suggested it.

"Dinner?" Carlos asked, not sure he heard her correctly. He had always imagined what it'd be like to treat the heiress to dinner but like every other fantasy he had, it was nothing like the reality.

"Yes, we are going to have dinner here, tonight—as soon as night sets. You have plenty of food, make enough for five; we will be bringing another guest. I'll bring the drinks, Evie will bring the pie."

Jay's jaw tightened, clearly unhappy but unwilling to go against Mal.

"I…" Carlos had nothing.

"Perfect. We'll see you tonight. We'll let ourselves out."

With a friendly little wave of her fingers, she left and Jay had followed suit.

"Oh Carlos," she half turned, and stopped before she was out the door.

He stood at full attention, his mind whirling with what he would tell P.H. and what to even serve. What would the heiress of the Isle like?

"I do not recommend trying to flee…I would be most…disappointed…do you understand?"

He understood the threat load and clear.

"Yes, Drachenkind," he said respectfully as he bowed his head.

"Oh, I do like the sound of that coming from you," she winked and smiled. Both she and Jay left, Carlos let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding in; he crumbled back onto his mattress, relieved he had survived his first encounter with Mal but wondering what it all meant.

"P.H. is going to freak out…" he groaned into his hands.

Mal and Jay walked into the dim midday sun, the light never all that bright on the Isle. Once they had left the warehouse and were on a deserted road back to Bargain Castle, Jay finally questioned Mal's intent.

"What are we doing? Do we really trust potentially mad scientists to feed us? And why bring Evie into it?"

"They're not the mad scientists we're looking for," she asserted, she had figured that out as soon as they got to the second floor.

"How do you know? We barely got a good look around the warehouse, you were too distracted by Freckled Beauty there."

Mal rolled her eyes,

"The warehouse is too exposed, too open. If they're the culprits, then they're not killing in their home. And maybe call it fae intuition but I just don't get that sense from P.H. or Carlos. But maybe you're right, that's why we'll go back and question P.H. ourselves."

"Why bring Evie into it? If they're the sick fucks who did that to those kids…"

"Jay," she turned to her friend and held his head in her hands so he was solely focused on her. "I wouldn't put Evie in danger. I know you get really pissy when your not-girlfriend is in any kind of distress."

Now it was Jay's turn to roll his eyes.

"But in the likely event I'm totally right, then I may have a solution to her problem. So just trust me, steal a host gift for P.H. and Carlos, and have a nice dinner. OK?"

He still wasn't totally convinced but he trusted Mal and nodded his acquiescence, he was also willing to try anything to help the Madam's daughter.

"Good," she said, in a chipper mood when unexpected helpful avenues presented themselves just in the nick of time.

They went a few feet back towards the heart of town and Jay suddenly wondered out loud,

"What in hades is a 'host gift'?"

Thanks for reading and please review.