Kill The Beast!
(A/N) A treat for Halloween! I know I have other stories to work on but my muse just... this happened. I'm sorry ;A; I'm weak and it's almost Halloween. Fellow fanfic writers will understand. Fanfics readers, on the other hand, may curse me. Also, just as a side note, this stories also on wattpad and Ao3, in case anyone prefers those sites. I have the same user name there as I do here.
My new policy is this is a one-shot unless my muse strikes again, that way I don't disappoint anyone. I've got some vague ideas on how to continue this though, using The Mob Song lyrics as inspiration for each chapter but we'll see how that goes. I wanna make this a three-shot, but no promises.
Warning: Slight violence, a wee bit graphic and dark.
Disclaimer: I don't own Descendants. If I did the movies would be very different.
Death had been his destiny, of that Harry was certain. His father had always believed it, so had his sisters and his uncle Smee. An auld fortune teller had sworn it on the day of his birth, that after his eighteenth year, he would meet Death.
And meet him he did.
It came as a surprise, even though he knew it was coming. He had always thought he would meet the Reaper upon the tides as all pirates and sailors should, but instead, the meeting came upon land on a bitingly cold Halloween's night.
He had made a mistake, gotten carried away in his merriment at a tavern and lost track of time. He should have known better. He did know better! He knew the repercussions of being out at night, his father had hammered it into his head for years. He was a fool, a complete and utter fool! He hadn't noticed the sky darkening nor the sun setting, sealing his doom like a seal on a death certificate.
He could still hear the screams of the patrons at the tavern ringing in his ears as his true identity had been revealed. The accursed light of the full moon had penetrated the ceiling windows and fallen upon him, sizzling his flesh and sprouting thick, black fur all over his body. It had been his pained cry that brought all eyes on him. There had been a stunned silence as everyone looked on with morbid fascination as the gruesome change took place. They had watched how he crumpled to the floor with an agonised roar, his body contorting and twisting, ripping his clothes to shreds as he shifted from human to the monster that he truly was.
He heard them whisper the words that had plagued his family for decades. Monster... beast... demon... werewolf. Even through the pain of the change their words made him seeth, bringing out his natural craving for blood and destruction. He wanted to tear them all apart with his teeth and claws and show them what a monster really was. He wanted to paint the tavern red with their blood, to watch as the life dwindled from their eyes.
Despite it only taking a few moments, it felt like he had been shifting for hours, the pain so great and tolling on his body. When he opened his once blue eyes that now shone a sickly amber colour, he saw the horror on the human's faces. It was only when he growled, his fur bristling and pointed ears bending back that they were snapped out of their shock.
Everyone flinched and shrieked, stumbling over each other as they tried to get as far away from him as possible. Some had fled from the tavern, others hid under tables or behind the bar, while more pressed themselves up against the walls, shielding their loved ones with their trembling bodies. Those who considered themselves courageous picked up their knives, guns, swords and bows, crying out for the beast to be killed.
Harry wanted to kill them all, but even he knew when he was outnumbered. He was also still too weak from the transformation - it took werewolves a few hours for the aches in their bones and flesh to heal. He snarled, spittle-spewing through his fangs before he charged through the fools blocking the door, ripping one's arm off and slashing at another torrso, causing four streaks of blood to seep through the man's shirt. Harry ran as fast as his four legs would carry him, straight into the dark forest with a shouting mob hot at his heels.
He should have been able to escape them, he had the advantage of darkness. But once again the moon betrayed him, lighting the shadows with its pale glow for the humans to navigate the forest with mild difficulty, further eased when they lit up their torches. They chased him relentlessly. His aching body barely allowed him to keep ahead. He swore he would get revenge against them for this, that he would wreak havoc on this village for their treatment of him.
A flaming arrow whizzed through the air, singing the fur on his tail. Harry growled, leaping over a fallen log and changing his direction, trying to lose them in the maze of trees. He could hear their thundering footsteps and battle cries following him everywhere, no matter where he turned. His legs were beginning to tire, his body heating up and causing him to pant heavily. This was bad, very bad. He was losing hope that he would be able to outrun them, they were too persistent and he was rapidly losing speed.
Another arrow lit up the darkness, piercing his shoulder. He howled in pain, his legs failing him. He tumbled to the ground, twisting his front right leg in an unnatural way, causing pain to shoot up the limb. He had barely pushed himself up onto to his paws as bullets rained down on him, some skinning him but none achieving a direct hit. Harry limped further into the forest, pain shooting through every inch of his body. He could feel himself growing dizzier and dizzier from blood loss and pain. He wasn't going to make it-
More arrows zipped past him, slicing at his back and neck. He lost his balance and fell to the ground, tumbling down a steep incline. He lay at the bottom, panting and losing consciousness. He could see the shadowy silhouettes of the mob at the top of the small hill, their torches casting dancing shadows across the trees. Dread knotted his stomach as he waited for them to find him, to plunge their swords into his bruised and beaten body and take his head to decorate the walls around their fireplaces. He didn't want that, he didn't want that! But he was in so much pain that a part of him whispered that ending his life would be a small mercy on their part, even if it wasn't intended that way. They were humans, and they felt no compassion for his kind.
He couldn't believe it when the mob didn't spot him and continued marching on, chanting for his blood. He listened to their songs of murder drifting off into the distance until even his keen hearing could no longer pick it up. They were gone. He was safe. He was-
The air became colder, a chill racing down his spine. Harry sensed him before he saw him, a dark, foreboding presence lingering over him. Slowly, painfully, Harry shifted around. Death stood before him, a dark spectre shrouded in smokey robes the colour of pitch and ash, a gleaming scythe in his bony clutches. Even the trees and the winds quietened down respectfully in the presence of the powerful figure. For so many years Harry had been assured that he would meet Death shortly after he turned eighteen years old. He had never wanted to believe it, and yet here he was, a truly frightful creature that seemed to change the very air around him, filling it with a cold, bitter iciness.
The hooded figure was silent, merely watching him patiently. Harry knew what he was waiting for and his heart plummeted in despair. No, no he was not ready to die. Not like this. His mind raced with all the things he still had to do, all the adventures that were out there waiting for him, the revenge he still had yet to claim. Death may be an awfully big adventure, but it was not one he wanted, not yet. His thoughts drifted to his family, all the things he wanted to say to them. What he wouldn't give to hold his sisters one last time.
A slim shadow fell over Harry's form. Harry whimpered, trying to scuffle away as the Reaper raised his scythe above the wolf and-
"Hey there, Wolfie."
Harry's eyes snapped open at the sound of the soft voice. He paused, waiting a moment more for the blow but still it never came. Cautiously, his entire body tensing, he lifted his head. Death still stood a foot away, his scythe raised in the air, but he did not move. It was as if some magic had paused him. Death then did the unthinkable, he moved aside. Harry blinked, his mouth dropping open slightly. What surprised him, even more, was what had been standing behind Death.
For a moment he was blinded by shock and disbelief of what he was seeing. It was so unexcepted that it took him a moment to puzzle it out.
It was a girl. A very pretty girl with dark blue hair that tumbled over her shoulders, reminding him of the waves on the sea on windy days. Her eyes were dark, framed with long, thick lashes coated with a skilful flick of mascara and eyeliner. Under her cloak, she wore a fancy blue gown, far too rich for her too not be of some upper-class family. Harry had never met a princess, but he imagined that this was what they must look like, all frills, rich fabrics, beauty and softness. The girl was a striking sight in the shadowy forest, the pale moonlight softening her features and making her snowy skin glow. She was vibrant and bright in the dark landscape of the forest, almost like a vision of Life itself. She didn't seem to notice Death standing a few feet away, his scythe glinting in the starlight. Humans could not often see much of the supernatural, not those of the spirit realms, the Unseen Ones.
"Don't be afraid," the girl whispered, and Harry wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or herself. "I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help."
She raised her hands in a soothing manner, trying to show him that she meant no harm. Harry eyed her warily, watching as one of her hands slid under her cloak and pulled out a small vial filled with a glistening purple liquid, like a mini nebula trapped in glass. Harry couldn't help but growl as she stepped closer and crouched before him.
"Easy, boy. Easy." Her voice was soft and gentle, and Harry wondered if that was what angels sounded like. Perhaps she was an angel, surely only an angel of mercy could still Death's hand?
He let of a whimper as a wrong twitch of his paw caused pain to shoot through his limbs. Death took a step closer, fear causing him to snarl at the figure. At his pained cry, the hesitant look on the girl's face disappeared, replaced with one of determination. She took a deep breath and moved forward, gently but firmly grasping his jaw.
On instinct he lashed out, trying to bite her. He didn't know who she was or what she was doing here but humans trying to get close never ended well. He was a monster. All humans wanted him dead. He didn't trust her. He wanted her gone. He hadn't been able to tear apart any of the other humans at the tavern for their sins against his kind but this lone, defenceless and unarmed girl was easy pickings, even in his wounded and weakened state. Her blood would have to do to sate his bloodlust.
But the girl proved undaunted by his aggressive snarls and snaps of his teeth. She lunged forward, trapping his head under her arm while her body pushed against him, pinning him down. She cried out in panic as he thrashed in her grasp, trying to escape her.
"Listen to me, you need to drink this, it will help you!" the girl stressed each of her words, startled gasps leaving her lips with every jerk of his body. "Oh, I wish you could understand me! I'm trying to help you!"
Harry was too far gone to listen, pain and panic clouding his senses. His thoughts were consumed with killing her, to have the feel of her flesh between his teeth and blood dripping down his jaw, coating his fur. He refused to die by her hand. He would end her first! The girl refused to let go of him and even dared to pry his mouth open with her fingers, careful of his teeth. She shoved the vial into his mouth then clamped his jaw shut.
"Sorry about this... but a bloody mouth is... better... than being dead," the girl gritted out, struggling to keep his snout and jaw clamped together.
Without meaning to Harry crushed the vial in his mouth, shards of glass shredded his gums and tongue. He shook his head violently, oily tears streaming from his eyes and seeping into his fur. He wanted to spit out the glass and howl in pain. The girl would pay for this. He was going to tare her heart out with his teeth! He cringed when he felt whatever liquid had been in the vial slide down his throat, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. It was like acid, searing and vile.
"Come on, Wolfie. Calm down!"
Harry felt his body become heavy, his eyesight blur and his thoughts turn even hazier and less chaotic and panicked. It was like he was falling asleep. Was this what death felt like? He didn't feel any pain from his injuries now, everything felt numb. He titled his head, his eyes drifting from the girl to over her shoulder. Just before his eyes closed he realised something. Death was no longer there.
He had met Death and survived.
Harry awoke slowly, his eyelids fluttering open. He was still in his wolf form and in the forest, right where he had fallen unconscious. It took a while for his memories to catch up to him. He remembered the tavern, the mob and Death ready to strike him down. Yet here he was, still alive. But how? His thoughts halted when he realized someone was stroking his head. For a moment he was bewildered, almost indignant. He was a werewolf, a ferocious creature that made giants of man cry out in terror. He wasn't some lap dog that could be pet!
He strained to look over his shoulder, a snarl curling his lips when he saw her. It was the girl with midnight blue hair who had stilled Death. The girl brave enough to take on a werewolf on her own with no weapons. The girl who had shoved a strange vial in his mouth. And most absurd of all her wonders, she was the girl who dared to pet a werewolf!
He looked at her in amazement, watching as she absentmindedly stroked his fur. She hadn't noticed he was awake, she was lost in her thoughts, her eyes trained on a fire she must have made while he was out cold. Why light a fire? Why rest his head on her lap? He tried to move, confused and restless with the events of the night. It was then he noticed that his body wasn't in pain. He could move his front right leg and shoulder with ease, as though his leg hadn't been broken and an arrow plunged into his shoulder blade.
"Oh! You're awake!"
Harry glanced back at the girl.
"Alright, Wolfie, take it easy okay? The potions still working its magic. You'll be a bit weak for a few more hours," the girl explained.
Harry realised that the potion must have been what was in the vial, that was why she had wanted him to take it and that was why he had survived. She had saved him, risked being seriously injured or killed by him to do so. The urge to rip her apart subdued, replaced by a tentative curiosity. Why would a human save a wolf from Death? He was a monster in her eyes, an enemy who lurked in the forest ready to prey on her kind. What could possibly drive her to show compassion for him?
"Hungry?"
Harry tilted his head at her and had he been able to he would have quirked an eyebrow. Even though he was in his wolf form, the gesture seemed enough to convey the unspoken question. The girl gave him a bland, unimpressed look in return.
"To clarify, I'm not on the menu."
Which was a shame because he suspected she would be quite delectable. The upper-class usually were, they were better feed than the commoners. Not that he had any intention of eating her, not now.
"I have some rabbit that I caught earlier today, you can have some."
Harry scrunched his brow in puzzlement, watching as the girl went about prepping and cooking the rabbit. She seemed to know what she was doing, though she was uncomfortable doing so. Perhaps he was wrong in his assessment that she was upper class. If she was surely she wouldn't know how to catch and cook her own meals, nor would she need to? But why then, was she dressed so well? She could be a thief. Or maybe she highly skilled dressmaker.
"Here you go, Wolfie," the girl mumbled, placing a charred slice of rabbit leg in front of him. "Enjoy."
Harry lowered his head and sniffed the piece of meat before pulling back in disdain. He hoped it tasted better than it smelt and looked.
"So do you like it?" the girl asked, looking at him from across the fire.
Harry spluttered and choked before spitting out the hunk of meat. It tasted repugnant and he cast a heated glare the girl's way to make his opinions on her culinary skills clear. It was always possible that this girl was a particularly twisted human who liked to kill his kind with poisoned food. He was surprised Death hadn't materialised again to claim his soul after he had tasted that atrocity she dared to present as food.
"It isn't that bad!"
She had the cheek to sound offended.
The girl took a forceful bite out of her piece of cooked meat, the rabbit's ear, and stared him down as she chewed on it. If she was trying to make a point she failed miserably. She seriously overestimated her cooking abilities. Harry smirked, as much as a wolf could, at the sight of the colour in her cheeks draining. She spat out the meat then hurriedly ran her tongue over her hand, trying to rid it of the disgusting taste.
"Ew. Alright, that's not my best dish."
The girl pouted, pushing the rest of the cooked rabbit away from her. Harry snorted in amusement, earning him a scowl from his sulking companion. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the crackle of the fire and rustling of trees. It was only when the girl started shivering that Harry succumbed to a rare display of pity.
With a growl he clumsily rose up on his legs, struggling to stay standing, The girl hadn't been lying when she said he was still weak. Now that he was moving he could feel the ghost of aches haunting his wounds, reminding him of the blows that nearly led to his demise. He wobbled over to her slowly, partially so he wouldn't frighten her away and because his weakened body gave him no choice. The girl didn't move, just watched him with an air of caution. He sensed that she was ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. He wished he had his voice, then he could tell her she needn't worry. He had no intention of killing her anymore, it would be poor form to do so after she had saved him and shared a meal with him - well, attempted to share a meal.
He laid down beside her, resting his head on her lap, offering her what warmth he could. It was a silent thanks for her aid. Hesitantly, she began stroking his fur and despite his pride rebelling against it, Harry found he enjoyed the soft motions. Her caress was tender, like she was scared to apply to much pressure in case she hurt him. No one was ever this gentle with him, especially not a human. It was nice and calmed his restless spirit. He fell into an unfamiliar tranquillity, content to lie there and be petted while watching the flames.
She began talking away to him, asking him how he got hurt so badly and if it was hunters. He wondered if she knew what he really was, if she knew he was a werewolf and could, therefore, understand her. Maybe she was just trying to fill the silence, humans never seemed to like keeping quiet for long, particularly when there was an animal they could be chattering pointlessly away to, even if they received no response.
"Where's your pack, huh, Wolfie?"
Harry tilted his head, letting out a sound akin to a purr when she scratched behind his ears. He had always been sensitive there. He heard her giggle and although it was a pleasant sound it made him grumble. She was enjoying this a little too much. He dearly hoped he wasn't growing soft after his near-death experience. Later on, he would put it all done to temporary insanity.
"Did you lose them? Or did you run away too?"
Harry perked up at her words, shuffling his head round to look at her over his shoulder. The friendliness was gone from her voice, now she sounded lost and small. If he had human arms he would have gathered her up in them and cradled her close to his chest. He didn't like that desolate look on her face, instead, he wanted to see what it would look like when she smiled. Would her face light up as bright as the moon, would she have dimples or crinkles at her eyes? He would wager his tail that she would look even more beautiful than she did now.
"Maybe you're a runaway like me. Two lone wolves," the girl smiled sadly, moving her fingers to stroke his back. "But unlike me you'll get to stay free. Little old me will get dragged back kicking and screaming by the hair."
Harry didn't realise he had snarled until the girl had snatched back her hand, startled. He saw fear flash in her eyes. She must have thought she had hurt or annoyed him and was worried he was going to bite or lash out at her. He tried to soothe her worries by straining his head up and licking her cheek, gently nuzzling her jaw. She hesitated for a second before smiling softly and continuing her caressing, even more gently this time.
Harry swore to himself that he would find out who it was that was hunting the girl. He would make sure they suffered for harming her and causing her distress. Someone like her, who was compassionate and gentle, even to a monster like him, didn't deserve to suffer. He felt a surge of zealous protectiveness for the girl, this strange girl who had dared save a wolf.
Humans hated wolves. They had hunted most to extinction, so deep was their fear of them. Wolves were the villains of the woods. Every human bairn was taught from the day they were born that wolves were horrors, demons that should be hated and hunted down. Humans opinions on werewolves were even more dismal. Werewolves were abominations, wretched beasts sent by the Devil himself to avenge their fallen siblings the wolves. Harry wasn't sure what the girl thought of werewolves, but she didn't seem to hate wolves. She was wisely cautious and alert, but he could not sense any scorn towards him.
"And you don't have to bother with any expectations set by your parents. No ones mapped out your life for you, you just get to live life as it comes."
That wasn't true. He had many expectations placed on him, as did his siblings. His father, when he indulged in too much alcohol, would often rant for hours about the high expectations he had for his children. He expected - nay, demanded - that they find a way to break the lycanthropy curse that had been placed on their family by an evil queen. Once free he wanted them to follow in his footsteps and become fearsome pirate captains, renowned around the world.
Despite being pirates, their father was stringent when it came to education and manners. He wanted them well educated and there were always unpleasant consquences when they fell behind in their lessons. No child of James Hook could be anything less than the best, they had a legendary name to live up to and Hook would make sure they would. Every day it was lesson after lesson, practice after practice. It was tedious and dire, and no matter how hard they tried they were never good enough. It was his father's consistent nagging and lecturing that drove Harry to take refuge on land so often. Even on nights when the moon would be full he would chance his luck and escape to land, just to find some blissful moments away from his overbearing father.
He had more in common with this girl than she realised. Again, he found himself wishing for a voice, wanting to share his own misery, to show her she wasn't alone in how she felt. That she had a companion who could share in her wallows and understand them.
"It's always Evie this and Evie that," she continued on, completely oblivious to his pledge and the connection he felt with her.
Evie, that was her name. Harry felt his heart jump in delight at finally knowing it. She wasn't just the girl anymore. She wasn't a nameless stranger. She was Evie. Evie. He had a name to his rescuer, to his mysterious forest girl with blue hair and hazel eyes.
"I'm too good, she says. Never bad enough."
Harry was certain she meant to say that the other way around. She must be tired, he figured. No doubt as tired as he. She continued talking away, her voice growing more and more distant to Harry's ears. He fell asleep to the lull of her voice, a voice that he felt that he could listen to for hours. When he awoke in the morning, just before the sun rose, she was gone. He might have believed her to be a dream had it not been for the cinder remnants of the fire or the cloak placed over his body to keep him warm.
Where could she have gone? Harry pondered in alarm, rising to his paws.
Harry found himself displeased at her abrupt departure. Her tender affections and had left him yearning for her touch and a part of him recoiled at the notion that he would never be able to feel her fingers running through his fur again. He wanted to know more about her, to unravel her mysteries. He wanted to show that they were kindred spirits, too souls battling against controlling parents who they could never please no matter how hard they tried. He wanted to protect her from those that dared harm her, to keep her tender heart safe from the world that did not deserve it. She was too good, too innocent and brave for the pathetic humans to have.
He had to find her again. He had too.
Harry nuzzled his snout into the expensive fabrics of her cloak, inhaling her scent. It reminded him of flower fields, sweet, earthy and fresh. He was loath to leave it behind, but he couldn't carry it in his current form and once he was human he wouldn't be able to track her. He raced off into the forest when he caught a whiff of her scent, desperation spurring him on. He had to find her. The sun was steadily rising and once its beams hit his skin he would revert back to his human form.
Where are you, Evie?
He had just leapt over a small stream when the sun pierced his skin. Reverting back to human form was not as painful as changing into his world form. Instead, shifting to human was like a mask falling from his skin. All the fur fell from his body in a shimmer of black and he was human again. He rose to his feet, shaky after being on all fours for so long. He let out a curse, slamming his fist against a tree. Of course, he changed back when he needed his wolf form the most. Of course!
"-I'm not lying! I got lost!"
Harry jerked around at the sound of her voice. He quickly crept over to the tree line at the edge of the forest, noticing a small army of knights on horseback. Evie stood among them, two guards flanking her sides. She didn't look happy to be there, and the knights did not look happy to have found her.
"The queen has been greatly worried-"
Evie scoffed. "I'm sure she has."
"And it would be in your best interest if you come with us without a fight this time, your Highness," one of the knights - an older man with a thick moustache and greying hair - continued sternly. His voice softened a little, pity appearing in his mossy green eyes. "Unless you're eager for a repeat of last time."
Whatever happened last time could not have been anything good with the way Evie flinched. She nodded quietly, allowing the guards at her side to escort her by the arms into the carriage in the centre of the squad of knights. Harry had to force himself to stay where he was, knowing there was not anything he could do at the moment.
"Don't worry, Evie. I'll get you back."
And Harry Hook never broke his promises.
(A/N) Let me know what you think! Sorry for any mistakes, it was very late when I wrote this. Like, three in the morning late. That's the sorta time my muse hits me with inspiration.
