Chapter 2 - Story Time
I am so excited that people read my first chapter and put me on their follow list. I never knew how addicting comments could be either. The things you learn when you finally put yourself out there! I am slowly setting up Mal and Jay's relationship before introducing Evie and Carlos. I had fun hiding a few sarcastic comments in this chapter, and felt that it went a long way towards explaining Chad Charming's apparent lack of intelligence.
Time for the disclaimer: I own nothing, I just play in Disney's sandbox. Playing with characters and backstories are the norm for fanfiction. If you're looking for canon, go watch the movie.
Mal's Point of View
"Once upon a time…" Scheherazade began another tale. I could listen to her all day, and often did. She had a way of making a story come alive. She used to tell stories in the sultan's palace, which is where she met her husband, Jafar.
I listened as she wove a fantastic tale of a widow in mourning who doted upon her two daughters. "Her loving husband did not plan for his early demise, and left nothing for his family to live on. The widow scraped and saved where she could, working in the local inn. She could barely afford to feed her daughters, and she knew that the only way to save them was to marry again. She was a practical woman, and set her sights on a widower who possessed enough wealth to support her and her daughters. A man who had already lost his first wife would be aware of the need to provide for his family in case he followed her in death. She would even be willing to take care of his children, if he had any, in exchange for security."
"Why would she marry if she wasn't in love?" Jay asked his mom. He was growing to used to her stories and still believed in true love at first sight. The boy had to get over that if he wanted to survive on the Isle.
"My mother says that love is a weakness," I said. When you love someone, it gives another person power over you. If they can control the one you love, either by persuasion or kidnapping, then they can control you."
Jay's face fell at my words, and Scheherazade looked sorrowful. "While some of what Mal says is true, a love that is pure will survive all attempts to squash it. Death does not end love; it only separates a couple for a time. Remember the tale of Orpheus and Euridice?"
"Yeah," I scoffed, "he went to hell to bring her back from the dead but didn't trust that she was following him so looked behind him. Hades told him that was the one thing he shouldn't do, so took Euridice back to hell with him. Orpheus was still alone, but this time it was his own fault."
Scheherazade looked heavenward, as if asking for strength, before she spoke. "The point of that story is that death did not stop his love. Everyone dies sometime…"
"Unless you're a god," Jay cut in.
"Unless you're a god," she allowed. "So, all lovers will be…"
I smiled at Jay's next interruption. "Or all the villains that Auradon forced Hades to bring back from the dead, just so they could punish them by banning them to the Isle."
"Yes, those too," she allowed. "But even those villains will die again, and the gods can visit the dead anytime. All lovers are reunited in the end. Now be quite and listen to the rest of the story."
I listened as Scheherazade dropped back into storyteller mode. Describing each character's emotions and motivations as the story unfolded. "The destitute widow found a kind man, who was simply looking for someone to mother his little girl. He was not looking for love, and saw the widow's two daughters as proof of her motherly instincts. He whisked her away from poverty to his mansion, and gave her the title of "Lady" when he married her. He doted on his little girl, but tended to ignore his step daughters in the process. His wife grew bitter over time. She knew her reasons for marrying were not romantic, and her desire for comfort and security was met. She never thought about the emotional impact of this on her daughters though. The girls had been the apples of their father's eye while he was alive. They understand that their descent into poverty for a year was not their fault, and held out hope that they would find someone like their father to love them some day. Their self-esteem took a hit, as their new stepfather focused almost solely on his own daughter. After a year of marriage, all three women grew to hate the little girl who stole all of her father's attention. The girl had never worked a day in her life. She played with her toys, took horseback riding lessons and lazed about on sunny days doing absolutely nothing."
"Wouldn't that be wonderful," I interjected. "To lay around and do nothing all day. I wonder if that is what they do in Auradon?"
This time, Scheherazade ignored me and continued. "One day, her father fell ill and called his solicitor to draw up his will. He left hefty sum to his second wife and her daughters, approximately a third of his estate, but his little girl inherited everything else. As long as she remained single, however, her stepmother controlled her portion of the inheritance.
"Well that's silly," I said. "Why couldn't he limit it to when she turned eighteen? Why did she have to wait until she got married? Not all marriages work out, and she could be stuck in a bad relationship if she married just to get her inheritance."
"You are correct Mal," Scheherazade said, "but that was how the will was written. In Auradon, they believe heavily in love at first sight, and that everyone has a happily ever after with their name on it."
"Love is a weakness," I parroted my mother's favorite saying, "and true love doesn't exist."
Scheherazade sighed, raising her eyes to heaven. She does that a lot. Sometimes Jay and I say or do things just to see how many times we can get her to do that in a day. Our record is seventeen. She shook her head before dropping into storyteller mode again.
"Now, the woman had been widowed twice, and she was not about to let her inheritance be taken by a selfish little girl who only cared about herself. Now, the little girl was not truly selfish, she just hadn't known a time when her desires weren't fulfilled. She was modest in her requests, so her father never had any cause to say 'no'. Now her father was gone, and her stepmother seemed ready to deny her every request on principle. Her requests for a certain type of food were denied, forcing her to eat over easy eggs instead of hard boiled in the morning. The rest of the family may be eating her favorite meal of roast beef but she would be given chicken, even though she was eating at the same table. After six months of mostly justifiable pouting, she was sent to the kitchen to take over the cook's duties. She slowly learned how to take care of the house as she grew and, one by one, the servants were dismissed."
"Wow, talk about a raw deal." Jay's comment was ignored. It didn't even warrant a glance heavenward this time. The boy needed more practice.
"The little girl was now grown up, and spent her entire day taking care of the house and following the 'requests' of her step mother and step sisters. She would sometimes cry at night while sitting close to the fireplace so she could see to read. This caused the cinders which hit her face to streak down her cheeks as she cried."
"Cinderella," Jay cried, "I knew it!"
I looked at him in disgust. "If it took you that long to figure it out, then I question your intelligence." I did my own eyeroll heavenward as Jay stuck out his tongue.
Scheherazade smiled at our interaction. "Sometimes, the stories you think you know are only half of the scarab. Not all villains are as bad as you think, and not all heroes are lily white. We are all human, and it is our choices that determine our fate. You can allow a situation to turn you into a bitter person, or accept the world around you and let it pass you by. It is better to see your situation and work to make it better without taking away from another person's story."
"You're skipping the story and going straight to the moral," I cut in before mumbling. "Not that I agree with you or anything."
She chose to ignore the second half of my statement and went back to the story. "Cinderella, for that was her name, continued working every day without complaint. She didn't see how her situation could change, so why should she even try?"
"Because she's an idiot?" I asked seriously. I earned another eyeroll heavenward and was ignored.
"One day, the prince was told that he had to choose a bride, but he didn't want to marry a 'prissy pink princess', as he put it, so he decided to throw a ball. He figured that if every girl in the kingdom came to the ball, then he would have a better chance of finding someone who wasn't a vapid flirt. The invitations went out, and Cinderella's heart lifted at the thought of one night in a nice dress where she wasn't the one serving hors d'oeuvres and cleaning up the dropped napkins. She went to the attic and found one of her mother's old dresses. She worked on it every night for a week, borrowing pieces of ribbon and lace from other dresses to finish it. It wasn't the most stunning of dresses, but it would do for the ball. She descended the stairs the night of the ball, assuming that she would be joining her family in the carriage. She discovered then how deeply they held the resentment of her father's indifference. Her stepsisters, Anastasia and Drizella tore the ribbons and lace from her dress, leaving her in tears as they flounced out the door."
"Well, that's one way to get your point across," I said.
I was once again ignored as the story continued. "Cinderella was heartbroken as she ran into the garden towards the rose garden her father planted in her mother's memory many years before. When she cried, she whispered her wish to go to the ball. Suddenly, in a snowstorm of magical sparkles, her Fairy Godmother appeared.
"Well if that isn't a case of Deus Ex Machina, then I don't know what is." Again, my comment was ignored. She was getting good at tuning us out. We'll have to try harder.
She continued the story. "Fairy Godmother waved her magic wand and, bippity boppity boo'd a carriage, coachman, horses and a dress. She then formed two beautiful glass slippers."
"Why glass," Jay asked, "wouldn't she break them as soon as she put them on? Dealing with cut feet would definitely put attending a ball out of the question."
This time Scheherazade paused, taking a deep breath before answering her son. "Fairy Godmother is a bit of a show off. She left the land of the fairies because she was looked down upon for her lack of wings. When she brought her magic to the human realm though, she became a rock star. She fashioned a magic wand to channel her powers, and pushed her way into many of Auradon's stories. She went on too many power trips though, and decided that her magic might be doing more harm than good. I believe that she gave up her wand after creating the magic inhibiting wards on the Isle and is now the principal of Auradon Prep, the main school in the kingdom."
Jay's and my jaws dropped at the slightly bitter tinge to Scheherazade's words. Clearly, she didn't like Fairy Godmother's perceived misuse of her powers. I wonder if this was another reason why she disliked my mother. Her description of Fairy Godmother did run along similar lines as Maleficent. They both left the land of the fairies and used their powers to effect change. One had a desire to help though, while the other's only goal was destruction.
The story continued. "When Cinderella arrived at the ball, she was a bit more than fashionably late. She entered the room in time for the last person to make it through the receiving line. She curtsied before the prince and when she stood up their eyes met for the first time. It was love at first sight, and they couldn't take their eyes off of each other. They danced for hours before walking out into the garden. There they talked about their lives as well as their hopes and dreams for the future. Cinderella glossed over her life after her father's death though, because she was ashamed of how she let her stepmother walk all over her. She didn't have a chance to give her name either."
"Well that was an oversight that could have ended the story much sooner," I snarked.
"Hey," Jay retorted, "if it ended then, it wouldn't have been much of a story. The prince had to prove his love by searching for her to earn her hand."
I rolled my eyes as the story continued, irrespective of our argument. "The clock started to chime the twelve o'clock hour, and Cinderella remembered that the spells were to expire at midnight. She quickly excused herself as the clock counted down to its final stroke. The carriage took her out of the view of the castle before disappearing. She stood in the middle of the road in her torn dress and holding one glass slipper. Walking the rest of the way home barefoot was not fun, and she had no clue why only one slipper remained. She didn't realize that the first slipper was lost when she ran down the steps of the palace and was later found by the prince."
"Go figure," I started. This time, I did not get to complete my comment before the story resumed.
"The next day, she started her regular routine. She had experienced a wonderful time the night before, but she was afraid that the prince would reject her if he know she was simply little Cinderella Tremaine. She was quite surprised though when she received news that the prince was taking a glass slipper through the town, trying it on every girl's foot in an attempt to find her."
"Was she really so forgettable that he needed to look at her foot to find her," I asked? "And what if someone else wore the same size shoe?"
Jay replied with a smug look on his face. "The slipper was magic silly; it would only fit her foot."
I shot an answer back quickly. "But how did the prince know that? It seems to me that he didn't do his homework and was hoping that Cinderella would just drop into his lap."
"Well no one said he was intelligent." Jay and I looked at his mom in shock. Did she really just say that? Her sarcasm didn't come out often, but when it did it often surprised even her.
She quickly continued the story. "When the prince arrived at the Tremaine household, he was welcomed into the sitting room. Cinderella's bedroom was high in the mansion's only tower. She chose this room when she was little because she said it made her feel like a princess. Lady Tremaine had lured her up there an hour before and locked her in. Cinderella was heartbroken and sat there sobbing her eyes out."
"Well that's not helpful," I said. "shouldn't she have tried to pick the lock with a bobby pin or something?"
"Well, no one said she was all that intelligent either." Scheherazade's eyes were raised heavenward again, this time at herself, before she continued the story. "Suddenly, Fairy Godmother appeared again in a shower of sparkles. She unlocked the door and sent Cinderella downstairs, making sure that she had her glass slipper in her pocket. Lady Tremaine saw Cinderella running down the stairs and realized that everything would change if the prince got the shoe on her foot. She stuck out her cane to trip the man carrying the glass slipper, and it shattered."
"How come it didn't break when she danced on it all night, but it shattered when hitting the floor without a heavy foot in it?" Jay's question seemed valid to me, and we looked at his mom for an answer.
"It was magic," she said with her eyes heavenward again. "The prince saw Cinderella and knew in a moment that this was the girl from the ball. He didn't need a glass slipper to prove it, but laughed when Cinderella pulled hers out of her pocket. He playfully knelt to put it on her foot, before lifting her in the air as he spun around in joy. He took her to his castle and they were married within the week."
"A bit rushed, don't you think?" I still didn't believe in love at first sight, and was more pragmatic about the story's end. I asked, "what happened to her stepmother and stepsisters? Did she kick them out of the house?"
Scheherazade continued the story at my request. "Cinderella had no need for her inheritance now that she was married to a prince. She took everything from the house that meant anything to her sentimentally, but left the rest behind. Her stepmother and stepsisters lived there comfortably, if not happily, until King Adam formed the centralized kingdom of Auradon and they were sent to live on the Isle."
"So… their crime was that they didn't like Cinderella, bullied her a bit, and tried to keep her from the idiot prince who need a shoe to find the girl of his dreams?" I rolled my eyes and continued, "that seems a bit tame to me."
"Not everyone on the Isle is guilty of the same level of villainy," Scheherazade said. "Some people are here because of who they wronged; not how bad their actions were. The Tremaine's are actually fairly nice, if a bit bitter and stuck up. The girls do care for their kids, and Lady Tremaine makes sure that they are safe when they work in her hair salon here on the Isle. She may not pay them much, but she keeps them fed and clothed."
"I guess there really are two sides to every story," I mused. "But how do we know which is true?"
She smiled as she replied. "You can only observe actions and draw conclusions based on facts. Listen to what someone has to say, but don't always take it at face value. Not everyone is a hero or a villain. Most of us are just people, with the foibles and faults that go along with living."
I walked home that night deep in thought. If people who don't deserve it are caught on the Isle, then they are left at the mercy of those who do deserve to be here. People like my mother. I shuddered, sometimes I wonder if I wouldn't be better off in a world where the few bad villains were in prison and the rest were out on parole. That seemed to be a much more realistic solution then trapping the so-so villains with the worst in existence and leaving them to kill each other. I looked at the sky and picked up my pace. The last thing I want is to get home late two days in a row and pay for it in pain.
