Disclaimer: Descendants does not belong to me.

The Blue Fairy is irritating and says many things that she has learned to ignore or scoff at by turns, but she is right about one thing - it is her decisions that have brought this upon her child. The first point of protection that she decides is that the truth of what is occurring must not become generally known. What it cost her to create and maintain that barrier had never been public knowledge, and Jane's newly discovered role in that will be an even more closely held secret.

Ella knows, of course, because Ella has cemented herself in the midst of this crisis. What Ella knows Henry knows shortly thereafter. She will not require that Ella keep her silence with her husband (because she will not put the woman who will always remain her charge no matter how adult and well taken care of she may be in such a position - it is not so long since she had the confidant that a well-chosen spouse should be that she has forgotten). She trusts his discretion. He loves Jane nearly as well as Ella does, and he will understand the potential danger knowledge like this could pose.

There remains only the question of what she owes to the High King and Queen. The Isle is under their jurisdiction, after all, but the Isle itself remains unchanged by this news. They have all made difficult decisions, and some of them have weathered them better than others. Adam and Belle have faced the challenges of keeping the various interests and even petty jealousies between the different kingdoms well in check. They have managed well. She trusts them with many things, but can she trust them with the knowledge that she has an even greater reason to change her mind about the continuance of the barrier now?

She hasn't - changed her mind about the barrier that is. She knows that the Isle houses a mix of those who could be reintroduced into the land and those who will only end their machinations at death, but the former chose to try to build something away from the rest of them and the latter with access to the resources outside of the dome are dangerous to literally everyone who will ever cross their paths.

Besides, the damage has already occurred.

If the Blue Fairy is correct, and she does not doubt that she is, then the absence of the barrier itself will only add magic to the equation. It will not remove Jane's ties.

Those in the public who have bothered to care to know have always believed that Jane was human like her father - that she was without magic in any capacity. She will not be correcting that misconception - for now, not even in her daughter herself.

The Curse Caster

Did they think she was going to go quietly? Did they believe that she would meekly submit to this fate as if she was some sort of proverbial lamb to the slaughter?

She was Fae - not one of their tame fairies. (The infuriating humans probably did not even understand that there was a difference for them to know - they were such simple minded creatures with such petty little lives.) She was to be feared and respected - not shunted aside as if her relevance could be dismissed by distance and some measly prison of feeble construction. (Never mind that she had felt the magic leave her as the edges of the barrier slid into place. Never mind that she had yet to find the weakness in the blasted thing that would allow her to regain her freedom. That meddling blight on the hierarchy of power of a fairy was not more powerful than she was. She was not!)

She would find a way. She would never forget. (Biding her time was hardly an alien concept for her.) They would all suffer at her hands as soon as the means was within her grasp. They were weak. They would slip up - she would be waiting for her moment. She was, after all, alive. If that was not proof of their incompetence, then she did not know what was. They should have chosen a more permanent solution (doing a better job with that sword for instance). They should have finished her off when they had the chance. Their foolish insistence on chances and opportunities would be their undoing. The moment would arrive.

It was just a pity (for those in her immediate vicinity) that being forced to exercise patience put her in such a poor mood. Someone was going to have to suffer in the meantime. This whole wretched Isle could burn. (The soft-hearted fools of heroes would likely come rushing to save them from themselves.) Although, if one or two of the new residents who had already managed to grate upon her nerves managed to have their throats slit before the cavalry came charging in . . . well, that was just a constructive way of dealing with her frustration, wasn't it?

The String Puller

He was a man who had always understood that power mattered more than all of the trappings people wrapped themselves in to make themselves comfortable in their pitiful little lives. Comforts were all well and good, wealth was useful, but power . . . undiluted power . . . was the ultimate goal.

There had been a time when he had been content to allow the appearance of power to abide with another while he wielded the true control in the background, but such a circumstance was tiring and eventually became utterly insupportable. He had begun his search for a means that would place a nearly unimaginable amount of control and power at his disposal, and it had ended thus.

He had lost the gambit. They had spent much of his time before the tribunal stating that he was unremorseful. That he could not be trusted not to continue on his previous path was something upon which there seemed to be universal agreement. That he would be likely to seek revenge was entered into the record as if it was a question that even needed to be asked.

He had scoffed at their parade of words. It was a waste of all of their time (and while he seemingly had an infinite amount of time at his disposal as a consequence of his binding to the lamp that did not mean that he intended to allow himself to be bored with such displays of posturing).

What had they expected?

Did they suspect that he would go from the taste of ultimate power that had been coursing through his veins to some sort of quiet life of reformed contriteness? Did they think that he would accept his role as servant or pawn to the triplicate whims of an endless line of inferior beings? They were all fools - every last one of them.

The Isle had freed him from the manacles of servitude - how he did not know. What sort of magic overrode the binding of the lamp? It was certainly a power worth investigating further when the time came, and he was certain that it would come. He was certain this was a temporary state. This exile could not last forever. He would wait and plan - wishes were dangerous things (as he well knew). When things reverted to the status quo, he would find some soul to manipulate in furthering his will.

In the meantime, there was chaos and wanton destruction occurring, and that meant unattended items were just waiting for someone to gather them together for use as later leverage toward a new base of power. He need not be idle while he did his waiting.

The Chance Chooser

"Did we make a mistake?"

She was not certain that there was an answer to that question that she wanted to hear. Anastasia knew that she had been coddled throughout her youth. She knew that she was bereft of several skills that might be pertinent to their current and future well-being. Her mother might have a variety of names questioning her intelligence at her disposal, but she had not been nearly the fool about this situation that more than one member of her family believed her to be.

She was not present in this place in some temper tantrum throwing display of anger and pride like her mother and sister (neither one of which, by the way, was currently interested in speaking to her). They were here out of spite. She had planned for this. The two of them had planned for this. They had thought it through as best they could. They had even discussed all the ways it had occurred to them that things might go badly. (Granted, what felt like the entire cityscape of the Isle burning down around their ears had somehow not made it onto that list of possibilities, but they had hardly been heedless.)

This had seemed like a reasonable option. There should have been space enough for those like them to steer clear of the ones who had had no choice - whether that held true in the wake of the destruction she was witnessing would remain to be seen.

She likes to think that she has become fairly practical as an adult. For example, Ella is kind hearted to the point of being blinded by it. Anastasia has a far better grasp on what the world can truly be (how people can be). Her mother is not nearly as much of an exception as her stepsister would choose to believe. People love Ella in a broad, figurehead sort of way, and they tell her tale to their children as if it was personal to them. Those same people have long memories and resentment that runs deep for enough of them to make it uncomfortable to be forever associated with the wrong side of the story.

She knows exactly what message the upswing in vandalism at the bakery was intended to convey after her attempt at some sort of life outside of her mother's direction. She received the message loud and clear - was equally certain that it was not going away any time in the near future. The bratty child and teenager who had been unkind to their beloved Queen and never spoken up against her mother's abusive behavior was who she would always be in Charmington - someone not to be trusted.

He was too stubborn to look after his best interests (was still too stubborn), and she was too weak - too weak to force him to see sense and too weak to try to live a life on the receiving end of the sneers and the forever scrutiny waiting for a sign of reversion. They had promised each other that it would be alright. They would have a little house and build a little life where they were not forever waiting for the people around them to come around or cycle back to remembering again.

They had talked themselves into believing that a second chance with a clean slate was what they would be getting (what most of the residents would be striving for). She is struggling to keep hold of those dreams as she is guided away from the fires burning to her back - a little cart of belongings to pull toward the far side of the Isle where the little cottage that is to be theirs waits (hopefully still in one piece) is all that they have aside from one another. She cannot help but feel that their starting over is already looking an awful lot like an ending. It does not escape her notice that he does not give her an answer to her question. They just keep walking - his hand at her back in silent support.

She tries not to feel guilty that he is only here because of her.

The Resolute Husband

He had faced nothing but opposition back on the mainland. The fact that this place has already gone up in flames seems strangely insignificant in the face of the battles that he has been fighting over the last several months (perhaps he is simply too exhausted to care). Anita of all people had come to badger him over whether or not he was sure that he was doing the right thing! She, at least, had asked out of actual concern for Cruella's well-being as opposed to the attempts to get him to admit that it was all a ploy to receive uncontested control over the contents of the estate so many of the other "check ins" had been.

He would have thought that the truth would have been clear enough given that he had filed the legal paperwork to be allowed to go with her on the same day as the start of her hearing. People were impossible to deal with when you were operating outside of their expectations. It really was too much to be expected to deal with on top of everything else. His wife might be a difficult woman, but she was his wife none the less. He knew what he was marrying; he knew why she wanted to marry him. He was hardly the first man in the history of the world to be wanted for his profession - Cruella had simply cared more for the product itself than the money it brought them. Why shouldn't she? She had plenty of money of her own, a family estate, and a last name that she was determined to keep. Comfort, a country get away for the weekends and too warm in the city summers, and a chance to change his name and disconnect from ties to a few old problems that tried to pop up from time to time suited him just fine.

They had made a go of it (the two of them) and just because they were not all mushy goop and starry eyed feelings about it was no reason for other people to be looking askance at what they had. Nosey Parkers would do well to mind their own affairs.

She had always had an eye for the special pieces his wife had. She liked to be wearing the one that other women turned their head to take a second look at because no one else had quite the same thing. There was nothing wrong with that - at least until she got so fixated on those blasted spots. If they had only stuck to the bought ones, it would all have worked out just fine, but she just could not let go of being told no over the one lot, and here they were.

Horace and Jasper manhandled their belongings down the street toward the outskirts of the cityscape as he guided his wife away from the cloud of smoke that was attempting to envelope them. He wasn't sure she was even aware of the play of the flames behind them. They had been progressively increasing the sedatives lately as she deteriorated further, and he knew that weaning her off of them was going to have to be his first order of business (or first, at least, after they made their way to their new home).

The Relentless Ruler

She understood the compulsion to throw a temper tantrum when circumstances did not turn in one's favor. That did not mean that she condoned the behavior that she was witnessing. This was hardly productive. She had long ago learned that one must weigh one's actions in a balance between the effort expended and the benefit received. This measured method had served her well for many years. She had risen to the heights of power within her realm through use of beauty and the power of persuasion that it afforded her. She liked to think that she had wielded her particular talents rather well, and the fact that she had navigated the fraught with dangers political arena to retain her power in the wake of her husband's death gave her no reason to doubt her skills.

She had earned her position with years of effort and political gamemanship, and the fact that she had been expected to hand it over to an unschooled child just because she happened to succeed in remaining alive to a certain age was patently ridiculous. Was it her fault that the fool of a man had managed to succumb to death before he got her with child? It would have been far simpler then - the girl could have been quietly disposed of in some accident or other without questions about Grimhilde's claim arising.

Alas, she had needed the girl to continue the heir in name so that she could petition her claim as regent. The maneuvering required to guarantee that she was the one so named had been brutal (and those who had opposed her found themselves removed from positions one by one as she could find excuses and cause in the following years). She should have been so accepted as ruler by the time the miserable child arrived at her majority that no one would think twice about her continuing when something happened to the official line of succession.

Never a one to waste resources, she had allowed the girl to earn her continued keep by being of use around the castle. All of those who had crawled out of the woodwork to denounce her at that farce of a hearing managed to nicely gloss over the fact that if they were truly so very concerned, then they might have requested to see the child at some point during those years. They never had. They had had no care for things not immediately before their eyes and relevant to their day to day lives (and she had been pleased to have it so).

No one had cared about what was happening to the little girl they claimed as their princess. She had been unnecessary to the realm. Grimhilde herself had ensured that it would be so, and she had faced very little opposition - until that blasted prince had come skulking around. The mirror had only cemented her decision. Her beauty was power, and she would not be usurped. The child had merely run out of time earlier than planned. The fact that the prince's head could not be turned was only further proof that her decision had been correct.

The girl had rallied supporters, and Grimhilde had been banished away from all she had achieved. She had no time for the petty displays of temper of the others. She was starting over here, but she still had her arsenal at her disposal. It was tiresome to begin again, but Grimhilde had been fighting battles her entire life. Why should things be different now?