A/N:I don't own Descendants (2015) or Isle of the Lost. Here's a gift, America. Drown your sorrows.
The barge drifted slowly through murky water towards a run-down island. The men on the barge all wore bullet-proof vests and sunglasses, and each carried a button that they could press that would whisk them back to Auradon in a stream of light. The barge was filled with vaguely-sorted trash: broken furniture, large pieces of rusted metal, foods that were slightly off, rolls of discoloured materials and ripped clothes. The air was tense, the bargemen's eyes darting around, wary and worried. The barge docked.
A cry of joy broke through the smog, and the barge was covered in bodies; children, adults, men and women all seized the boat, each person picking up as much as they could carry, and then still more. But four figures stood out from the rest.
They were systematic, taking what they wanted instead of what they saw, regardless of whether someone already had the item or not. If someone had something they wanted, one of two things would happen. Either the gorgeous blue-haired girl would stroll over, talking to whoever had the item, and while she did, the dark-haired male would steal the item. When they casually strolled away, the target would yell.
"Thief! Whore!"
And the woman would turn around and blow a kiss, and the thief would laugh and run towards their friends.
The second option was far more terrifying, but far more efficient. The other woman, the one with long purple hair, would step up to the target, and her eyes would glow. Then she would casually take the item handed to her, and she would leave. Behind her, the person would stand entranced, and would sometimes whisper a word after her, "Witch."
And so they were the Thief and the Whore and the Witch, and the last one, the blonde who walked around tripping up others, playing silly pranks and tying shoelaces together, he got the title of Troublemaker. But the Thief was the one who shone on the barges. He stole and he danced and he cried out with joy, and he had the time of his life. And when the four left with all their spoils, he would lead them out, helping the bluenette down and tripping up the blonde. And then they would run, fast and furious, and the bargemen wouldn't see them again until the next month.
Jay and Carlos hid in one of Hell Hall's many secret passages. Neither of them were seriously out of breath, although they were panting slightly. They crawled through the passages, smirking and winking and silencing each other, loot in their hands and joy in their eyes. They crawled through the passages to the hollowed back of a closet, which was what constituted as Carlos's bedroom. There they left all the materials they'd collected for Evie, all the jewels that was for Mal, and all the alcohol and cigarettes they'd keep as long as possible. Carlos was the only one with a 'room' his parent would never go into, and so most days his room was their storeroom, as he spent his days with them, in the court or the city, and he spent his nights with them, in Evie or Jay's room, or Mal's club.
They crept back and climbed out the only open window, lightly landing on their feet next to Mal and Evie, who smiled at them and grabbed their hands and started running. The boys followed, and soon they were all a blur, red and white and blue and black. And when they finally came to a halt, hardly out of breath and smiles splitting their faces, they stood outside a marketplace, all temporary stalls and stolen wares. They exchanged glances, and walked in.
The effect that they had on the crowds in the market was shocking- they weren't Maleficent. They had done nothing to earn their place of the Isle, and yet people cleared out of their way like they could kill them with nothing more than a glance (well, Mal probably could. Jay didn't know the full extent of her abilities). And yet here they were, store owners cowering out of their way, Evie grabbing the nicest materials she could find, Mal collecting the most expensive looking pieces of anything, probably to sell back to the store owners, and Carlos, with a cigarette between his lips, hair messed and a fond smile on his face, staring after the girls. These three were beautiful, Jay realised. They were magic and air and water, and he was fire and earth, and the four of them made up everything in this world.
"What are you thinking about, my Lord?" Carlos asked from the desk of a stall, "You don't wear that look often." Jay's response was to roll his eyes, "They're beautiful. I want to give them everything." He looked towards the girls, whose bodies were now pressed together, Mal backing Evie into a stall that held rolls of fabrics, her lips trailing along the other woman's collarbone.
"And you will," Carlos told him, blowing smoke into the air, "you are a king and you will give your lovers everything they deserve and more when we reach Auradon."
