A/N: this took forever to get posted. i suck, i know.
there's a pov change in this chapter! i tried to give mal her own voice so my writing style is a lil different this chapter but i think i really like it!
if you really squint, you'll see some malvie relationship development.
enjoy!
Mother certainly wouldn't be happy with Mal— that much she knew.
Mother, being the self-decided ruler of the island, didn't take too kindly to disrespect, especially when it was from her daughter, and even less when it was in public. (Disrespect towards others, however, was a different story— one that Maleficent was quite fond of, and greatly encouraged.)
Regardless, Mal surely couldn't expect the woman to be pleasant after the scene she had caused by the bridge involving a quite malicious welcoming of an unwelcome visitor and some light backtalk to her mother concerning said visitor.
Mal had wracked her brain for a reason behind her mother's sudden anger, and only grew angry herself when one refused to surface. Mother should have been thrilled with her nasty-little-girl; she spat on a princess' shiny shoe for hell's sake. But she wasn't, and Mal had to remind herself that sometimes Mother was just angry for no purpose at all, and sometimes— who was she kidding, always— Mal had to deal with the unjustified consequences that came along with it. Perhaps it was just one of those times.
So, hoping to avoid the brunt of those repercussions, she refused to go inside Maleficent's castle, instead standing, pressed against the wall of an alley that hid just out of view from the windows of the castle, thinking that time would dissipate the tension— or would allow her to think of a way to make it up to her mother.
And she was having a perfectly grand time brooding against the wall that must have been the exterior of Bargain Castle's kitchen, until the girl burning a sore spot in her mind appeared in front of her, staring like a lost, lavishly blue puppy.
Carlos practically yelped beside her as Mal caught sight of them, her stomach twisting terribly in disgust towards the girl— Evie— for being the one to land her in a world of trouble with her mother.
She made the rash decision to saunter over to them, forcing a menacing smile and a flash of the green that her eyes were known for emitting, figuring that a bit of mischief was one way to channel her irritation and waste a little time in the process.
And so she sent Carlos away and teased the girl for a while, using all her best tactics of eliciting fear and humiliation to some avail, though she had to admit, Evie held a much calmer air than she would have expected. The blue-haired girl did eventually crack, a hint of fire entering her words in a way that truly shocked Mal, but she played off of it easily, dismissing Evie from her presence with no less than an implied threat against the girl's wellbeing. Mal had leaned in so close to utter it, she could see the hairs lifting on Evie's neck— and really, that made the whole experience worth it.
And though the sun had already begun to set, meaning a solid few hours had passed since the incident at the bridge, Mal knew better than to return so soon— and empty-handed at that. Maleficent had a reputation for holding onto grudges, and if Aurora's stupid christening wasn't an indication of that, then Mal didn't know what was.
So, she wandered the streets, mumbling curses and searching for some form of a gift to act as a bribe against a lecture, as one does, smiling at the glances of fear in her direction as she walked, as one also does.
The roads of the Isle seemed to come alive at night, but somehow felt lifeless, too, filling the air with an undead eeriness that Mal knew all too well. Nighttime was when the boring slept, but when the malicious carried out their tasks of misbehavior.
Mal tended to fall somewhere in the middle, never sleeping until the morning hours, but never accomplishing anything too evil since it didn't benefit her much. Because, if a cart of rotten apples is knocked over and no one is around to hear it, does it really make a sound? Mal never wasted her time to find out.
But tonight, Mal had to abandon that inclination, if not for the sake of saving her own tail from a beating, then to at least busy herself with something entertaining.
She wanted to find where that blue snob of a princess had run off to, because that sounded like good fun, and someone had to run her off of their island— a job Mal didn't mind having to take part in.
Evie couldn't have gone far— it was a tiny island, after all— and Mal knew the alleys like the back of her hand. She estimated no longer than an hour to find the girl, but rushed to do it in half, just to outdo herself.
It was annoyingly dark and the grounds felt squishy and soaked from the island's last rain that the sun hadn't come out yet to dry up, but Mal trudged on until she passed an alley bordering Dragon Hall that was filled with a commotion she couldn't ignore.
She approached the corner cautiously, walking on the balls of her feet and taking in the way that four shadows casted onto the wall visible to her, indicating that the bodies of whoever they belonged to were facing away from her direction. Mal slowed to a halt and pressed her back against the brick, just close enough to the turn to remain hidden but still hear the hushed conversations taking place.
It was a mumbled discussion between what sounded to be four boys, and from what she could make out, they were having a disagreement. She ran through a short list of boys she chose to avoid on the Isle, and when none of their voices matched the ones on the list, she figured it safe enough to sneak a look around the corner.
There were, as she expected, four masked boys, huddled together in the center of the alley, shouting whispers and throwing cautionary looks towards a heap of blue hair and matching fabric pressed against the opposite wall.
Immediately, a victorious grin spread across Mal's face, but it just as quickly faded to a scowl, her insides twisting in a newfound emotion that vaguely resembled anger. Mal stared a moment longer, watching the way the blue-haired girl looked between the boys with helplessness written across her visage (a sight Mal would usually take pleasure in seeing but presently only made the twisting inside her strengthen), before she stepped forward, clearing her throat to alert her presence.
Evie's gaze was the first to find her, but the boys' followed shortly after, their eyes growing wide in a mix of fear and shock, suddenly resembling the likeness of Evie.
"Robbing the new girl, are we?" Mal crossed her arms over her chest, ambling closer to where the boys stood. Their slackened jaws and terrified looks told Mal they wouldn't find the words quick enough, and she didn't feel like waiting, so she continued without acknowledgement. "It takes four of you to rob someone that can't even fight back?" She tacked on with a laugh, waiting for the boys to drop the deer-in-headlights air about them. They never did, but Mal just supposed that was a perk of being the daughter of Maleficent. Evie stared on with a similar expression, but her fear was vanishing, and the twisting was easing up in Mal's stomach. "It's pathetic, really."
The thieves huddled closer together, still at a loss for words; Mal didn't need much more to scare them off. She easily conjured a brightness to her eyes— an action that had begun to feel like a reflex, she did it so often— squinting them as soon as her vision began to take on hues of green. "Beat it," was all it took to send the boys off in a frenzy down the alley, whispering laments to one another of their tragic luck.
Mal was almost disappointed that they hadn't put up more of a fight. But that feeling fizzled away as she found herself alone with the girl she had been on the lookout for. She stepped closer, the smirk returning to her lips as Evie dropped her hands from where they were wrapped around her knees and pressed them into the ground, as if they could somehow push her farther against the brick wall that her back was already flush with.
"You're welcome." Mal aired on a side of faux-civility, lacing her words with just enough snark to ensure that Evie knew there was no actual kindness in the statement.
The girl's brown eyes blinked once but quickly returned to their widened state, her breathing obviously labored under the weight of her own nerves and adrenaline.
So vulnerable, Mal thought, already weighing a list of options and outcomes in her head. So very, very vulnerable— it would be foolish to not use the situation to her advantage.
After all, Mal had two birds to kill, and it seemed as if she had just stumbled upon the perfect stone to get the job done.
"I didn't know what to do. They were going to—" The explanation fell from Evie's lips like a rushing stream, but Mal cut her off— or more accurately, Evie stopped herself— when Mal squatted down suddenly, wrapping her fingers around the strap of the suitcase and pulling it towards herself with a satisfying scrape of fabric against cement that she was sure would leave a mark.
A princess of Auradon was sure to have some money to her name, and Mal hoped the girl was dumb enough to bring some along with her.
Evie gasped at the realization of what was happening and reached to reclaim the case from its new thief, but immediately pulled her hands away as if they had been burned when Mal shot her a neon glare of warning.
"You're going to rob someone that can't even fight back?" Evie used Mal's own words against her, her voice shaking slightly but still maintaining enough strength to drive the point. Mal had to give her props; it wasn't everyday that she found someone brave enough to stand up to Maleficent's daughter. The change was refreshing in a way, and Mal almost felt a twinge of uncertainty sting in her gut as she unzipped the case's main zipper. Or perhaps it was just the beginning of a laugh bubbling in her chest. She chuckled anyway, and the sensation seemed to lessen.
"Nice try."
Mal flipped open the main compartment, unsurprised when the contents seemed to only consist of clothing and shoes. She was sure that each piece was worth a decent chunk of rusty coins— and she would be sure to snag some if nothing else of value showed up— but for the time being, she continued rifling past them until her hand found something solid, folded into the fabric of a shirt.
She lifted the shirt on the palm of her hand, feeling the weight of what must have been glass or something of that likeness, and glanced towards Evie, reading the way her cheeks flushed a contrasting red to her blue attire. Mal quirked a brow at this and unfolded the shirt, allowing the object enclosed inside it to fall with a thud into the sea of clothing below.
She dropped her gaze to where it sat and held back the gasp of triumph pushing through her chest. Her fingers traced over a gold frame lining a broken shard of reflective glass before she snatched the object into her grasp, holding it with both hands in front of her face and watching a smile grow on her lips from the reflection.
"Mirror, mirror," Mal said, a mixture of shock and delight playing through her voice.
Sure, Mal had expected a necklace or a nice pair of earrings— something nice enough to give to Mother and make her forget how disappointed she was in her daughter— but this, this was far more than she had ever bargained for.
Because Mother already had her Dragon's Eye scepter but Mal just knew Maleficent couldn't stay mad at her when she entered the castle brandishing another weapon from a former powerful villain. Mother loved power, and if she had Evil Queen's magic mirror (or what was left of it) she could surely find a way to use it to her advantage— even if that advantage was only to instill some extra fear in her subjects.
Evie's previous bravery had obviously burned out, leaving her jaw agape in a speechlessness that Mal was far more accustomed to seeing from her victims. Part of her wished Evie would speak up again, just to prove that she wasn't as affected by Mal's intimidation as the rest of the citizens on the Isle. But the other parts were too consumed with accomplishment to dwell on that desire. Mal tucked the treasure under her arm and dug through the last of the contents, finding nothing as noteworthy as Evil Queen's magic mirror.
Satisfied with her pilfering, she straightened to her full height— which wasn't much but still enough to tower over the scared girl— and turned to walk off, leaving a messy pile of dresses and shoes to soak up the rainwater on the alley floor.
"Thanks for the help," Evie called after Mal once the purple-haired girl was far enough to be considered safe. The sarcasm in the words was painfully obvious and Mal couldn't help but smile at the restoration of the girl's boldness. She didn't turn to face Evie as she called out a response.
"I already said you're welcome."
Mal didn't return to Bargain Castle until morning. Mother wouldn't miss her.
"Is that you, darling?"
Mal watched the early morning light succumb to darkness as the front door shut behind her and blocked the sun from making an entrance. It may have already been past eight, but the inside of the castle still held a darkness that could have tricked Mal into thinking it was a solid four hours earlier.
Mal stepped cautiously into the throne room that her mother would inevitably be sitting in, hoping to whatever would listen that the neutrality in her mother's voice was not a product of a facade.
The mirror in her pocket poked into her legs with every movement, a constant reminder of what she had accomplished that served as her only source of confidence as she caught sight of the dark-robed woman at the center of the room.
"Hi, Mother."
Maleficent lifted her gaze from where it watched the cloth rag in her grasp, meticulously scrubbing the rounded, green gem of her scepter as if its cleanliness could somehow allow it to wake up once more, even if just for a moment. Her green eyes met Mal's of a matching color and they traced up and down the young girl, staring daggers into her until she felt her knees begin to wobble in distress.
Mal slapped her hand to her pocket— so hard, she wondered for a moment if she had shattered the treasure— in a last ditch effort to pull the attention away from whatever emotion was lingering on her mother's face.
"I brought you home a present," Mal said, her voice small and meek— something that she could never dare to allow anyone but Mother to hear— as her fingers dipped into the fabric and wrapped around the familiar golden frame.
A smile spread across Maleficent's face at that, eliciting a similar one from her daughter at the anticipation of how her mother would react. Mal stepped closer to the throne, her heart thumping wildly against her ribs, and tugged the mirror from her pocket, holding it out for Mother to take.
"It's Evil Queen's magic mirror," Mal explained, flipping the treasure in her hand from its reflective front to its shimmering, golden side and then back again.
The mirror left her grasp no more than a second later, snatched by Maleficent as she held the glass close to her face— long, black-painted fingernails wrapping around the frame and landing with rhythmic taps on the front.
"How did you get this?" Maleficent asked after a moment of admiration, her eyes still locked on the object as she spoke to her daughter.
Mal's smile grew wider as she took in the villain's sudden shock, her previous apprehension fading into nothingness.
"I stole it from the Auradon girl." Mal crossed her arms over chest and jutted her chin out proudly, waiting for her mother to exclaim in excitement to her 'nasty-little-girl'. Mal wondered if maybe Mother would even hug her.
But Mother did neither of the two, instead drawing a brightness to her eyes and dropping the mirror to her lap suddenly as if it had stung her.
"You did what?"
Mal's eyebrows fell low on her forehead, more from disappointment than fear, her eyes searching her mother's face for a reasoning behind the rejection.
"I stole it. From the Auradon girl," Mal repeated, speaking slowly and clearly for Maleficent to hear. Because the only explanation she thought up was that her mother had misunderstood. She had misheard her and that's why she wasn't bursting with pride over her daughter's great achievement.
And though, Maleficent's expression softened, it only did so enough to leave behind a look of indignant disinterest as the woman sighed and poked at the mirror in her lap contemplatively.
"Well, that just won't do. You'll have to return it."
A similar burning anger filled Mal's body, tinting her cheeks red and prompting her to clench her fists at her side. It was the exact anger that had plagued her at the bridge, and it reclaimed her senses with a vengeance.
"Why would I ever do that? I'm a villain, mom, I don't return things." Mal chose a reply that least conveyed her irritation, constructing an excuse easily with the empty hope that it would somehow dissuade her mother from her previous orders.
Maleficent sighed dramatically again, sight still locked on the mirror.
"I shouldn't have expected anymore of you, I suppose." The woman ignored her daughter's question as if she hadn't even heard it, and Mal found herself wishing her mother would at least establish eye contact to put an end to the inferiority that she couldn't help but feel.
But when Maleficent did lift her gaze, Mal remembered why she should be careful what she wishes for.
The woman scooted to one side of her throne, letting a hand fall to the newly empty space and tap it twice before muttering, "Sit, Mal."
Wasting no time to obey her mother's request, Mal made her way onto the cushion of the throne, almost cringing at the softness of the fabric against her legs.
She remembered sneaking from her room as a toddler, long after Mother had fallen asleep, and climbing onto the large chair, whose seat alone was large enough to hold her on it and only leave the tips of her toes dangling off the edge. She had sat in it for hours, whispering commands and practicing her evil grin just like Mother would, until her eyes grew heavy and desirous for sleep, her head falling against the armrest where it remained until morning.
Maleficent had found her before the sun rose, far from happy and full of shouts about never sitting in her throne without permission. She sent Mal off to her room without breakfast (and a throbbing cheek).
The throne still sent chills up her arms, to this day.
But she situated herself against the seat anyway, feeling no ounce of warmth or comfort from sitting next to her mother. Just tension and the looming fear of the conversation.
"This isn't about some silly mirror," Maleficent began, poking once more at the object still resting in her lap. Mal pouted visibly at the remark, recounting how previously excited she had been to impress her mother with the treasure of a former villain— Mother always was unpredictable, she supposed, but the dismissal of her hard work stung more than she had expected.
"It's about world domination."
The sudden change in direction of the conversation left Mal with a feeling of social-whiplash, but she knew better than to interrupt Mother in the middle of a lecture, so she kept her growing confusion to herself, even as she craved to ask how returning a mirror and taking over the world went hand-in-hand. Maleficent paused, deep in thought as she licked her lips like she did when a particularly pleasant thought came to her mind. The woman returned her gaze to her daughter as she continued.
"Which is why you," Mother stopped, reaching one dark-painted finger out and tapping it once on Mal's nose. The younger girl pulled away immediately from the touch. "Need to go to Auradon."
Mal pushed herself farther against the throne's back as if it could put any distance between her and her mother, eyebrows lowering on her forehead as she stared at the woman's complacent expression. "What?"
Maleficent started to repeat herself, but Mal cut her off with a clarification. "I'm not going to some boarding school filled to the brim with prissy-pink princesses." The disgust was definitely evident on her face, and Mal could even feel her cheeks beginning to heat with anger, but the older woman took no notice of either, following Mal's defiance with a knowing laugh and another drawn-out sigh.
"You will go, you will find Fairy Godmother, and you will bring me back her magic wand." The finality in her voice told Mal not to argue— despite the burning desire in her stomach to do so— so she bit her tongue, allowing the true reasoning behind her mother's most recent outbursts to shine through. Her cheeks continued to burn, both from anger and a newfound embarrassment that she hadn't figured out the plan on her own.
"And the first step in getting there is being nice to that brat-of-a-girl," Mother tacked on, unknowingly adding fuel to Mal's building rage. The woman continued talking but Mal had heard enough, her thoughts already blaring with furious reds and a particularly annoying blue that seemed to have entered her life for the sole purpose of ruining it.
She tuned back in to her mother's ranting in time to hear her shout, "With that wand and my scepter, I will be able to bend both good and evil to my will!" The fact that Mal would take part in that 'will' went without saying.
And though Maleficent had a goal of ruling the world, Mal's incentive was something far less grand. She would prove herself as the villain that her mother never truly saw her as— she would prove once and for all that she wasn't a disappointment. And she was going to do it on her own terms, which certainly didn't include being nice to some girl who had come to turn the island's life upside down.
So, Mal would play along. She would get herself a one-way ticket off the Isle. But as soon as her and Mother were ruling Auradon, Mal would ensure that Evie be the first to feel their wrath.
Mal stomped along the dirt paths of the Isle's alleys, paying no regard to the mud that had begun to splash onto her boots and pants in the process. The puddles were too murky to see her own reflection, but she didn't need to look to know that the scowl on her lips and the permanent green hue of her surroundings did not paint a picture of cheerfulness. The way the citizens practically dove from her sight spoke enough about it, anyway.
Mal stormed through the streets, evil on her mind, until she passed the place Jafar called home and was stopped by a tall figure dropping from the rooftop to the space inches in front of her.
She was so used to the surprise, she didn't even flinch.
"Jay," she stepped back slightly to establish some distance, greeting the boy with a short nod of her head. The green in her eyes fizzled to a far less intimidating shade as she looked up at the boy.
"Mal," he mirrored, brushing a strand of hair messily behind his ear. "Why are you here?" It was spoken in a way that normally Mal would have taken as rude, but because it was Jay and she knew he meant no ill-will, she easily overlooked it.
"I'm looking for someone," she grumbled, pushing past the boy with her shoulder that only came up to just above his elbow. Jay scoffed at the gesture amusedly, taking it as an invite to follow, though Mal never suggested she wanted company— but she knew Jay would have followed if she had made her desire for solitude known.
"Who pissed in your coffee?" He chuckled, easily keeping pace with the girl even as she tried her best to outstep him. Mal shook her head dismissively, ignoring his question and answering one that she knew Jay would follow up with anyway.
"I'm looking for the Auradon girl." Mal almost spoke Evie's name, but changed to the informality at the last minute to avoid the implication that she cared enough about the girl to remember her name (though, she would be lying if she said the name wasn't consuming her thoughts).
"The one with the blue hair?" Jay asked, and Mal wanted to answer with a sarcastic comment regarding the fact that there was only one girl from Auradon on the island, but she held her tongue when Jay muttered something along the lines of "I gotta see this."
Mal didn't make the effort to shoo him away, partially because she knew he wouldn't listen and partially because she thought she would say something she might regret, so the two walked side by side, past the empty alley where Evie had resided the night before, and down the countless other paths in search of the girl.
The hunt led Mal and Jay to the heart of the island, an area packed full of street vendors and customers eager to grab the nearest food in sight. It was just like any other typical breakfast on the Isle, except for one blemish— waves of dark blue hair weaving in and out of the crowds, a slice of bread and a paper cup of coffee clutched to her chest.
The image sent sparks of displeasure through Mal's veins, the question of how a girl that the entire island should hate managed to score herself a decent meal remained annoyingly unanswered in her head. Mal froze in her movements, extending her arm out beside her to stop Jay from moving, too. She studied Evie for a moment, following the blue hair with her eyes until it broke through the horde of citizens and found a wall to lean against, a considerable distance from the chaos of the morning rush.
"Stay here," Mal said to Jay, her eyes already deploying their tactic of intimidation with little effort. Jay must have noticed the fury building in her expression because he complied without protest, taking a few steps back to indicate that he would listen.
Mal started towards Evie with her fists clenched at her sides, her mind instinctively whizzing with possible starts to their coming conversation and how each one would benefit the statement she would make.
But every one of those possibilities shattered into useless shards as she approached the blue-haired girl and was cut off before she could speak by Evie saying something first.
"I don't have anything left to give you. You already robbed me." The words were sharp and cold but even as Evie spoke them, she stepped in front of the suitcase at her side protectively, as if she didn't believe Mal would pass up the chance to steal from her again.
Mal's chest drowned in a burning heat at the tone she was met with, no longer enjoying the contrast of Evie's boldness to the cowardice of the other citizens. Her hands itched to punch something, and that something was beginning to seem a lot more like it might become the girl's face. Mal sucked in a steadying breath, desperate to calm her nerves before they forced her to act in a way she would regret, and sorted the spinning thoughts in her head until they were clear enough for her to form a sentence.
"Listen, princess," Mal growled through gritted teeth, making quick glances over her shoulder to ensure that no one was staring before taking a threatening step closer. Evie stumbled back, face flushing in fear— it was just what she had been waiting for; a break in Evie's front that would give the control back to Mal. "You're going to put me on your nice-list— or whatever you have to do to get me to Auradon— and as long as you do, I won't make your life a living hell." By the time the final word left her mouth, she was standing inches from Evie, their faces so close Mal could feel the blue-haired girl's rapid breathing fanning across her cheeks. And Mal thought the threat would be more than enough to convince her, but as the words sunk in, Evie's expression only hardened, her arms crossing over her chest in a defiance that matched the growing scowl on her lips.
"No, you see, that's not how this is going to go." The courage was back— still laced with underlying anxiety, but there nonetheless— and Mal could feel the brightness in her eyes beginning to falter in shock of the rejection, the intimidation slipping from her grasp until the hues of green disappeared from her vision. Evie noticed the change, responding to it with a smirk of self-satisfaction. "I'm going to make my 'nice-list' how I want to, and if you want a chance of being on it, I suggest you start acting like someone who deserves to be in Auradon."
The blow hit Mal like a ton of bricks to her chest, not only from the sheer audacity of the statement, but from the truth behind the words and how much it unexpectedly stung to hear them.
Because Mal definitely did not deserve to be in Auradon. She was mean and nasty and absolutely none of the qualities of an Auradonian.
But something about hearing it from one of the mainland's citizens only reaffirmed Mal's hatred for her kind— the snobby, rich princess kind who turns up their nose at the sight of someone inferior and isn't afraid to make their obvious privilege known.
And hearing Evie call her unworthy only made the itching in her hands grow to a sensation that was almost impossible to ignore.
If her eyes could turn red with anger, they would be crimson with rage.
Evie stared unwaveringly for a beat longer before dropping a hand to the protruding handle of her suitcase and slipping out from the place she had pinned herself against the wall. Mal let Evie walk off, only because a continuation of the conversation would be useless and only fuel the pounding of Mal's chest further, but as soon as the girl was out of sight, Mal did punch the wall. She immediately felt the shooting pain racing up her arm, but couldn't bother herself to dwell on it, already marching back to where Jay was waiting for her, nabbing a loaf of bread from a citizen with no remorse on the way there.
"So," Jay began before Mal had even reached him. "What was that all about?"
"My mom's making me go to Auradon," Mal announced, waiting for an inevitable gasp of disbelief that never actually came. Jay only tilted his head as if Mal had merely made a small-talk comment that held no weight or interest. She ripped a chunk of stale bread from the loaf and passed it to Jay mindlessly, picking at the less dry inside for herself. "So, I need that girl to reserve me a spot," she tacked on when she decided that Jay's lack of shock must have come from him not fully understanding.
"And you thought the best way to do that was through intimidation?" Jay shook his head, scoffing at Mal's naïveté.
"Well, how else am I supposed to get what I want?" The iciness in her tone still remained, but the adrenaline of anger was slowly trickling away with the passing moments, leaving behind a sense of what Mal would describe to be contemplative determination.
"Maybe you should try being nice to her?" Jay suggested. Mal practically choked on the bread in her mouth from laughter.
"I am not nice."
"You're pretty nice to me," he rebutted, biting into his chunk of bread and sending crumbs showering to the dirt road below.
Mal shook her head at the implication. "I tolerate you."
"Then tolerate her." His voice was muffled by the obnoxiously large bite of food in his mouth, but Mal understood perfectly, and the meaning behind the words was enough to replenish the steady thump of aggravation in her chest.
Start acting like someone who deserves to be in Auradon.
The ending of her confrontation with Evie— and the way it was spat at Mal as if she were no more than scum on this Earth— played through her mind on a loop, each repetition driving hatred deeper inside of her.
"Not a chance."
Niceness wasn't an option for the daughter of the most evil villain in all of the lands.
She would find another way. Because she was Mal, and she always found a way.
A/N: i'm actually really proud of this chapter even though it took twenty day to write it, oops
be sure to leave a comment with some feedback, i absolutely love reading them and they always motivate me to write.
and thank you to everyone who is reading and supporting this story!
see ya' soon!
