There once was a prince, a prince who searched throughout his entire kingdom to find love. There once was a mere maiden who longed for love, but was only treated as a slave by her step family. When the prince hosted a masquerade ball, the maiden was the one who danced with him. They fell in love. She became queen of the kingdom, ruling alongside him. She was free from her past, and they lived happily ever after.
There once was a princess; the fairest of them all. Her own stepmother was obsessed with being the fairest of them all, and she ordered her own step-daughter's death; fed her a poison apple to put her in an endless sleep. Yet she woke up due to true love's kiss. She married a prince, and she lived happily ever after.
Oh, what about that monster? You know, the one that lost his family and would've become king when he was what? Eleven? You can trust an eleven-year-old to run a kingdom! What a great fucking idea! He was selfish, cruel; he lacked any attributes of a leader! So, an enchantress cursed him into a terrifying beast. Looks like nothing's changed, has it? He kidnapped a girl. He fell in love with her. Sure, he almost killed a guy, but he's the hero, so who fucking cares? He's the one who became king of an entire nation.
But that's just how it is. They get this! They get that! Them! Not us! No, they got their happily ever after, and nobody gave a fuck about us!
Because we're not the heroes. That's all that matters. The heroes were the prince and maiden, but the villains were the wicked step family that treated her as a slave. That bitch deserved it anyway.
The heroes were the prince and princess, while the villain was her evil stepmom who tried to kill her stepdaughter with a poisoned apple. All because of looks? History seems to neglect mentioning how Snow hurt Grimhilde. All Grimhilde wanted was to be loved by her husband, but he only ever cared for Snow. Yeah, she killed Snow's dad, and tried to kill Snow, but over her looks? That's their excuse? It was over her appearance? Not revenge! But sure, heroes, villains. All that shit.
Then the beloved king and queen. Of course they're the heroes. Of course they did nothing wrong! I mean, it's not like he was a fucking king at eleven! It's not like he neglected his kingdom! He didn't abuse his servants, or make a young innocent girl take her father's place as his prisoner! Yeah, he's not a predator at all! Yet the villains somehow were the enchantress that cursed the prince; someone who treated his subjects scornfully and without remorse. But sure, the enchantress is the villain. I mean, it's not like she literally made an innocent girl her prisoner and forbid her from ever leaving. She didn't make someone a slave. She's one of the fucking heroes! At least she tried to fix that monster. Oh, and Gaston. All he did was fall in love with the wrong girl. He only tried to woo the girl he liked, and yet he's the villain? He tried to kill the monster that kidnapped the girl he loved, and likely could have destroyed his village, yet he's the villain? Not the monster that kidnapped the girl?
Heroes, villains, heroes, villains, heroes, villains, as if it isn't just a matter of perspective!
Heroism and villainy are completely subjective! The heroes fall in love and defeat the villain and live happily ever after, but what about the villains? They're sent to some goddamn island by the king; a supposed monster that mentally abused his servants, doomed hundreds of children to death, and kidnapped people! No consequences for him, huh? No consequences for the literal kidnapper. In fact, he can have an entire kingdom and, for even better measure, he can rule twenty others along with it. The fuck? He gets a kingdom for kidnapping and mentally abusing people, yet the said villains, even just petty thieves, get sent here; an island protected by a magical barrier with the sole purpose of keeping us here? Some villains just fell in love with the wrong person, or the heroes didn't agree with their ideas and views, yet here we are, trapped in this godforsaken prison! Now, sure, the villains deserved it. They tried to destroy the heroes' lives. Many nights without sleep, traumatizing memories, living in constant fear and-oh shut the hell up. At least they get the luxury of sleeping. At least they don't go through that trauma every single day. At least they don't have to fear their own parents!
Yet because of them; the heroes, we have to?
Do we deserve to live through hell? Because of our parent's mistakes? Because the so-called heroes had a different point of view? They're the real villains for trapping us in this hell! We did nothing! Living meal to meal; starving; we had to fight other kids our age just to survive! Who the hell thought that was a good idea, or that we deserved it?
The Isle of the Lost is just a prison, meant to keep the big bads and their children trapped, while the United Kingdoms of Auradon live peacefully. I mean, it's not like they care about us. All we get is their garbage, anyway. There are no rules here. You either are the strongest; the most evil, or you likely don't make it through the entire year. And the supposed good guys are the ones who set up that system. Yet, no matter how much one hopes, there's no way out, ever. All there is, and ever has been for us, is pain and suffering; the only release being death. Sometimes that seems like a better option; a release from the pain. Some don't even get the choice. Some parents keep their children around as slaves, some to carry their legacy of evil, and some kill them for their own pleasure, or even for their own survival. Because killing your child at a young age so they don't have to suffer for years to come should definitely be considered mercy. Now tell me, does that seem like a good home?
Dark; gloomy. There's no sun; no rain. Just emptiness. Just an absence of... anything. Anything substantial. There's no breeze; no warmth. It's all just the same. Every day. Every single day, it was the same. No breeze; everything was just still. Weather never changed, temperatures never rose, nor dropped. Nothing.
Despite it being nearly noon, it was still completely dark.
There was a crowd gathered around, a commotion nearly everyone could hear. Fun, games, dancing, people were content.
Everyone was there, children of all ages and sizes, parents of those children; the so-called villains of the stories. They all gathered around. Well, everyone except one girl.
Maleficent's daughter; Mal; only six years of age, who was peering down from the balcony of her mother's dark castle, glaring at the commotion down below. At the focal point of her glare is a little girl with long, dark blue hair. She's around the same age as Mal. A broad smile forms on her face when a small box with a blue ribbon tied around it is laid in front of her.
It's not fair. Why should she be happy if Mal isn't? Why wasn't she invited? Everyone else was, even the villains who supposedly ruined people's lives. So why couldn't she?
"Mother!" Mal yells angrily, turning away from the balcony
Her mother groans, walking over to her daughter, "How many times have I told you not to fucking yell?" Her mother growled.
Mal sniffs and looks at her mother, a feeling of disappointment washing over her. She messed up; had failed to be exactly who her mother expected her to be once again. She hadn't listened, and now consequences would follow. Mal didn't think she would be able to handle the consequences this time.
After a moment of silence, Mal spoke up, "I-well, a lot. But mom! There's this birthday party and I-"
"No," her mother interrupted, turning away from her disappointing daughter. The girl was lucky she was in a good mood moments prior, otherwise she would've received a much more strict punishment.
Mal sniffs, looking at her mother, a small tear running down her cheek.
At that exact moment, her mother's eyes flared a violent green as she brought her hand down upon her daughter. She must learn her lesson, no matter how painful. She must be punished. For yelling, being a nuisance, a disappointment. She'd heard every word that could crush a girl's spirit, even the not so appropriate ones.
"No crying! Villains don't cry! It shows weakness," her mother instructs; her daughter could not be weak. She didn't ask for such a useless and weak daughter, and she would not accept one. It didn't matter what she put her daughter through. Not to her. Her daughter would someday be the perfect villain, which, in other words, meant her. That was all that mattered.
Mal nods slowly, bringing her hand to her cheek, softly rubbing the red bruise left by the force of her mother's hand.
"Now, what do you want, dear?" Her mother snaps, about ready to either walk off or shove her daughter off the balcony. She couldn't really decide. Though through pushing her off, her disappointing daughter wouldn't survive, and no matter how much Maleficent hated Mal, she wanted the girl alive to someday carry on with her legacy. Just, you know, by doing exactly what her mother told her. No free will. It sounds perfect.
Mal looks down over the balcony. "There's a birthday party," she trails off, not sure if she should continue. It was a petty thing, right? Would her mother side with her, or just punish her for wasting her time? "And I wasn't invited."
Her mother looks down at the party, noticing a broad smile on a little blue-headed girl's face. Smiling under her reign? Nobody smiles unless she tells them to, and this girl is smiling; being happy, when her own daughter simply wasn't invited?
That is the lowest of insults. It's going against her reign! This girl deserved to suffer more than her daughter did simply for being insufferable.
"A birthday party!" She growls in distaste. She didn't have a pleasant experience with parties of any kind. "There shall be no parties that my daughter is not invited to!"
Or any at all.
Mal smiled a bit, but instantly hid it from her mother, fearing punishment. Her mother hadn't told her to be happy, so she wouldn't be. That's how it is.
Her mother turns around, leaving the balcony. "Come with me, Mal," she growls as she walks to the lower entrance of their castle. The doors fly open and the commotion stops at once, everyone running in fear of their ruthless dictator. Some people hid. Some threw others in the way so they'd get killed first. Why they even had a party near Maleficent's castle was unknown. Stupid girl!
Everyone. Happy. Those words always would end in disaster.
"Grimhilde!" Maleficent croons, walking up to the woman. Of course, she was behind this mess!
"Get behind me," Grimhilde warns her daughter. Her daughter complies and begins cowering behind her mom as instructed, avoiding the harsh glare that Mal was sending her way.
"Maleficent," Grimhilde sneers, unamused and slightly pissed off that this... thing ruined her daughter's party. She was to become a princess, a queen even. She had to be the best. She had to be loved by everyone. That way they'd be easier to manipulate and betray, and this fae monster was ruining her opportunity!
"This party is over!" Maleficent snaps.
Mal knew of her mother's hatred for parties, ever since she was the only one not invited to the royal christening in the kingdom of Aurorae. They did not invite her to Aurora's birth, unlike everyone else in the kingdom. She wasn't even evil back then, but she ended up putting their daughter in a sleeping curse in anger, but of course, she woke up. True love's kiss, after all. Breaks any curse.
"Now, if you want to keep your lives, then leave!"
Everyone began running around, scrambling to leave. Amongst them were Grimhilde and her daughter. Mal found pleasure in watching the little girl, less than a year behind her, running in fear of her and her mother. She knew that fear was of Maleficent. Not her. Nobody feared her like they did Maleficent.
But one day they would. She could only hope.
"You! Grimhilde, and her obnoxious daughter!" Maleficent sneers. "You shall never set foot on these grounds again. From now on, you shall never show your faces on this island. If I ever see you again, I will do worse than banishment."
A smirk forms on Mal's face at her mother's words. Yes! That would be perfect!
"Bye Evie," Mal taunts, waving her hand a bit at the young girl.
The girl lets go of her mother's hand, walking up to Mal. "It's Evelyn," she corrects, rolling her eyes a bit.
"Like I care," Mal scoffs. "See you Evie! Oh... or maybe I won't? That's gotta be hard, huh? You're a princess, right? Have fun rotting away! Maybe next time you'll invite me," she says with a smirk, finding tons of pleasure in taunting the girl.
"Evelyn, we must go," her mother snaps, grabbing her daughter's hand.
Mal only waved before turning around and heading back into her home, her mother following behind her.
"Evelyn, come on."
The girl frowns, breaking away from her mother's grip. "No, this is your fault!"
"Evelyn," her mother warns.
"Why couldn't you have just let me invite her? Now, because of your feud with Maleficent, I'll never be able to leave the freaking house!"
Her mother's face contorted in anger, the back of her hand colliding with Evelyn's neck; the wedding ring still on her finger only increasing the pain the girl felt.
"That's quite enough!" Her mother snaps. "Follow me, or you'll go without dinner for the week."
Evelyn frowns. This wasn't how she wanted her sixth birthday to go, but in fear of the consequences she took a deep breath before following her mother.
Three years later, way across the island, in an old crumbling manor only known as Hell Hall, lived Carlos De Vil. He wore a black t-shirt under a red leather jacket with long sleeves, covering all the bruises he had sustained. Over the red jacket, he wore a ragged white leather vest. He had spiky white hair and blue eyes. He was about a year younger than Mal and Evelyn, eight. Yet, even at eight, his life was a living hell.
Carlos was an example of children kept around as slaves. Day and night he would do chores, starve to death. Every night he would bleed by his mother's hand, all in her drunken rage. Sometime he would wish his mother had just killed him when he was born, but it was a fear of pain that kept him alive. He was afraid to hurt himself. A coward, that's what he was. He couldn't even do the one thing that could free him. How pathetic.
He lived in Hell Hall with his wicked mother, Cruella De Vil, but to him, the literal devil. His mother was nothing short of crazy. Sometimes she forgot he existed and Carlos would just hide out in his lab. Those were what he considered peaceful nights. Others she tormented and tortured him, with no way out of it.
Today was another one of those days and, after having nearly escaped his mother's wrath, he headed out towards the other side of the Isle.
"Kid, what you got for me?" A voice asks from behind him.
Carlos turns around, seeing none other than Harry Hook. His father was the infamous Captain Hook. He wore a red leather vest, had short black hair, and light grey eyes. His face was maniac; a stern yet curious look on his face, though his hand kept caressing his hook as a sign that he wasn't afraid to use it. He had a reputation for being ruthless and violent. It was clear he wasn't one to mess with. The only advantage Carlos had over him was that Harry seemed to lack intelligence. He often fell for the same trick; just using violence to win. He'd rely on that. Tricking the naïve pirate.
"Two packs of cigarettes," Carlos answers plainly, hoping it was enough. He didn't particularly like the idea. Harry could just steal them and run off. What then? They were his mom's. He couldn't just give em' away.
Harry grins a bit at his words, "What do you want for 'em?"
"Not much, just a weapon. Something to get people to listen to me." Carlos negotiates, his lips thinning as his nerves grew. Harry could just take the cigars without giving him anything. Then he'd have to deal with his mom and have nothing to protect himself with.
"You're a horrible liar, De Vil. Tell me the real reason," Harry growled, leaning closer to Carlos, a small grin forming on his face. He knew the answer well enough. It wasn't hard to guess. Multiple scars ravaged across his neck and legs, and he wore long sleeves to cover the scars on his arm. He looked pale, unwilling. The boy was desperate, which meant it was an ongoing thing. So either revenge or abuse. Knowing his mother, the answer was obvious to the pirate.
Carlos didn't know that.
"I got in a fight with a kid, scraped me a bit and stole my dagger. They have it coming, really."
Harry smirked a bit. It was a slightly believable excuse. "Do it on your own, kid. If you can't stand up to a kid, how do you plan to blindside me?"
He froze. "Wh-What do you mean?"
"You're fast. That's all you've got going for you. So I'm going to warn you and get rid of that foolish thought." His hook inched towards Carlos' chest, the tip lightly digging into the boy's skin.
"What the hell are you-"
"Don't run, or this hook goes through your chest. Understood?"
Carlos nodded a bit.
"Good. Now, what's the real reason you need a weapon?"
Carlos couldn't look him in the eye. Harry wasn't that smart! He just was naïve! Desperate! He didn't expect him to- Carlos was smart; he knew that. But Harry was ten times stronger than him, and other than speed, he had nothing going for him. His plan was to trick the pirate and run off, but apparently Harry was smarter than he let everyone think. This was simply his only choice. No matter how pathetic it was.
"To protect me from my mom," Carlos mutters.
Harry grins and pulls out a small dagger. It wasn't in the best condition; rather dull and the end was blunt, not sharp. He'd deal with it though. He needed something. "Deal?" Harry asks, holding the dagger out to Carlos.
Carlos grabs the dagger with a firm hand, trying not to tremble in fear. He could practically feel the hook plunging into his chest as thoughts of possibly betraying Harry arose again. Maybe he could run faster! He could get away and-
No, just go through with it.
The pirate reached for the cigars, quickly shoving them in his pocket.
"Good luck with your assassination plan or whatever, kid," Harry said, turning around and walking off towards the nearby docks, the cigars tightly grasped in one hand. He didn't enjoy getting them for his dad, but he insisted. He just hoped his mom could change that behavior once she found out.
A tune came to his mind and faintly, Carlos could hear it. He felt confused, not able to recognize it, but to Harry...it was a tune he grew up with. One that made him feel happy. Have hope.
Not that anyone needed to know that; hope was forbidden after all.
In a small shop in the busy marketplace of the Isle, lived Jay, son of Jafar. He had golden brown skin and dark brown eyes. His primary choice of clothing was leather, most of it worn out, but he liked the feel. Most of it he had stolen, including a red beanie he would wear, mostly used for hiding things in, though it did sometimes help to keep his head warm in the cold. His clothing had been altered to help with stealing; more pockets, holes, general hiding places were tailored either professionally or through his father ripping holes in the clothing til he deemed it good enough. His father was far from a tailor.
"Jay, get over here!" His father shouted.
Jay ran into the room, already exhausted. "What is it, dad?"
"What'd you score today?" His father asked in anticipation. May his son got his hands on a lamp, and if he did, then...
Jay frowned, already knowing his father's response to his words. "Nothing."
"What?!" His father cried, snapped out of his fantasy of gaining back his power and taking over Agrabah. "What do you mean, nothing?"
"N- I don't... I don't want to be a thief."
His father didn't even let him finish. He slapped the boy as hard as he could, and with the assortment of rings on his fingers, it hurt like hell.
"Get out and go steal something expensive!"
"Dad, I don't want to-"
"That's an order!" Jafar shouts. "If you come back here empty-handed, then you will be punished! Got it?"
Jay nods, knowing exactly what punishment meant and shudders in fear. Without looking back, he ran out of his father's junk shop, searching for something expensive that would get his dad off his back.
Obviously a lamp would be the best score, as it could even get him off his back for weeks as his father did everything he could to open its "true potential." The disillusioned man had never grasped the concept that not all lamps were magical.
He approached a nearby weapon shop, mostly knives, one singular gun, but with no ammunition. Not even a sword or anything. Probably raided by the fucking pirates again.
Knives could do, though.
The shopkeeper was facing a purple-haired girl, meaning his attention wasn't on Jay, giving him a small opportunity. One by one, he carefully hid the knives as the purple-haired girl talked to the shopkeeper. He got the last of the knives and began stalking off, slow and steady, don't run until they notice. Just act normal. Act. Normal.
A few seconds of walking passed, but the shopkeeper didn't seem to notice, causing Jay to silently sigh in relief. He was confident in his skills, and he could definitely outrun them, but not being caught was definitely a better alternative.
"Hey, you!" The purple-haired girl shouts from behind him, catching his attention. His thoughts went frantic, a slight panic arising. Should he run? Should he ignore her? He could outrun her, that's for sure. It's not like she could match him in that. People just sometimes could be rather unpredictable. It's a rather simple assumption that he stole something if he just randomly started running, so...
Jay turns around, having decided, and almost instantly he recognizes the girl. Mal; Maleficent's daughter. Easily one of the most feared children on the Isle because of her mother's reputation. Messing with her was like asking to die due to the supposed favor she had with her mother. Maleficent could do literally anything to them as dictator, since Mal was her daughter it was safe to assume the same.
Mal reaches out her hand expectantly, not moving towards him in the slightest.
"Can... I help you?" Jay asks.
Mal rolls her eyes, "I played my part, now give them to me."
"I got no clue what you're talking about, girl."
"You know damn well what I'm talking about. Now, I can tell my mother you did something horrible and tried to kill me, taking away her heiress, or you can just give me the knives I helped you steal."
He scoffed. "Nobody helped me. And I've got no clue who the hell you are. Now if you'd just leave me be-"
"Mal Maleficent, scared now?"
Of course, but he shook his head, "Sorry, I can't help you."
He thought little of it. It would've been smarter to simply hand over the knives and steal something else, but he didn't. He started running.
The girl growled under her breath and started sprinting after him, catching the attention of most everyone in the area.
"Get back here, you street rat!" the shopkeeper yelled into the distance.
Jay sprinted as fast as he could, which was much faster than Mal, who already was getting exhausted and had to catch her breath. Much, much faster. But while Jay was fast, he wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings, so within minutes he was at a dead end, Mal stalking up to him from behind.
"Nowhere to run now, now give them to me."
Jay quickly scanned the surrounding area. There was nothing. Nothing at all. Not even a fence or alleyway to run into, nothing.
"There's nowhere to run now, just give them to me and I won't kill you."
Jay scoffed. She wouldn't kill him, she couldn't, but he continued to look around nervously, finally deciding on arguably the stupidest plan imaginable.
He'd climb up the two windows along the wall to reach the roof. That's all. Nothing too drastic. Other than someone's chasing him and he's cornered and can't build up speed.
He turned around, reaching into his jacket, causing the girl to grin. He brought out the knife and walked up to her, his eyes frequently traveling towards his surroundings, to anything he could use to gain speed or height.
"Give the damn thing to me," she growled.
Jay placed the knife in her hand, causing her to grin, but the second her view traveled away from him, he pulled the knife quickly out of her hand, leaving a deep cut through her skin. She winced in pain and screamed at him, but he just sprinted towards the wall, using a stray metal can as a stepping stone to reach barely to the windowsill. The other was a few feet apart. He jumped towards it, the tips of his toes landing on the small ledge. He smirked and reached up to the ceiling, pulling himself up. One leg over, then the other. He smirks as he looks back down at Mal, whose close behind him, but seemed reluctant to jump up.
He sprinted across the roof, jumping from building to building, all as Mal followed behind him.
"Just give me the damn knife, Jay!" she screamed after him. But he couldn't give them away. He needed them for his father to leave him alone. Not that this girl would understand. She didn't have a father.
He looked back at her to see her eyes flaring green, but he continued to run forth.
But then she tripped. She went stumbling off the roof, causing Jay to chuckle. He glanced back towards where he came from. Surely he couldn't go back yet. The shopkeeper would be after him. So where would he go?
Possibly that old abandoned castle? It wasn't terribly far, and it was empty. He could hide there. Yeah, he could hide there. He hopped off the roof, but was met by a punch to the gut, causing him to lose his balance and fall from shock.
"That's for your stupid-ass trick," Mal said glaring at him, "And that," she said reaching down towards him, pulling a knife from his jacket, "Is my compensation for helping you."
He glared at her, causing her to kick him in the same spot. She reached back down, collecting all the knives that fell from his jacket when he fell. "And that is for your stupid attempt to run from me. You're lucky I have somewhere to be, otherwise you wouldn't be let off so easy."
Jay groaned, causing Mal to throw a single knife his way, "At least you're not going back to your daddy empty handed."
"At least my dad's there."
A knife flew through the air, narrowly missing Jay.
"You missed," Jay taunted.
"Consider yourself one of the lucky ones," Mal growled, not even sparing a glance his way.
On the far side of the island, past Hell Hall, stands a crumbled castle. The castle became the home of a little girl after the world turned on her. Her makeshift dress is a dark blue shade, matching the color of her long hair. She is staring at the mirror, brushing her hair, when she hears a knock on her window.
She puts the brush down, reaching into her pocket and grabbing a vial. She walks over to the window and opens it, but nobody is there. "Surprised to see me, Evie?" A voice says from behind her.
Evelyn turns around and glares at her, instantly recognizing the voice.
"Mal," she growls.
"Nice to see you too, Evie." Mal smirks, her fingers tracing small circles along the blade of her knife.
Evelyn walks over to her, "My name's Evelyn!" She snaps.
"Whatever you say, Evie," Mal scoffs, rolling her eyes.
Evelyn pulls the vial out of her pocket but continues to hide it from Mal's view.
"Get out of my room! Because of you, I can't even show my face outside," Evelyn growls.
Mal nods, "Hmm, how you likin' that so far? It's been what, three years?"
Evelyn growls at her, "Don't make me do something I might regret."
"Like what? Fight back?" Mal asks. "No, I would much rather you let me do this the easy way," she laughs, walking closer to Evelyn, her fingers tracing the tip of the knife; drawing her own blood.
Evelyn backs away, but Mal advances. Evelyn continues to back away, but reaches her window.
"Take one more step back. I dare you!" Mal threatens, pointing the blade of the knife at her.
Evelyn looks around her, nodding mentally as she opens the vial, keeping her thumb over the seal to stop it from spilling.
"What do you want?" She asks.
"Oh, it's simple. To hurt you. Like you hurt me," Mal growls.
"Is this about the party? Look, I wanted to invite you, but my mom was still mad that Maleficent was the leader instead of her," Evelyn explains. "I begged her to let you come, but she refused."
Mal stops her advancement, stopping in her tracks at the realization. "You wanted me to come?"
Evelyn took the chance and walked over to her. "Yeah, look, I'm sorry. Just please, forgive me."
Mal scoffs, "You sound like a princess."
Evelyn laughs and walks over to Mal. "Yep."
Mal growls and holds out the knife. "Here."
Evelyn looks at her curiously. "What?"
"I won't hurt you, Evie. On one condition," Mal warns.
"What?"
"You join my gang," Mal answers.
"Why? Your mother banished me. Why would I join you now?"
"Why? Because in one second, I can thrust this knife into your stomach and leave you here to bleed to death. Does that sound fun?"
Evelyn shakes her head, knowing that Mal was telling the truth. The fact she drew her own blood proved that. She either joined Mal, or she didn't survive. The start of a truly great friendship. "Why me?"
Mal laughs. "I need someone with your... unique abilities."
"What?"
"Okay, Evie. I've seen how you act. You get people to give you what you want just by flirting with them, and besides, you're smart enough to keep that potion on you. Wanna suffocate me?"
"Why should I join you? Why shouldn't I just use this potion on you now?" Evelyn asks.
"Because I can give you the one thing I know you've always wanted, and cause you know, you don't have a choice," Mal sneers.
"And what is that?" Evelyn inquires.
"A family."
Evelyn smiles, instantly making up her mind. "Okay, I'm in," she says, reaching out her hand to Mal.
Mal hands the knife to Evelyn. "Welcome to the gang, Evie!" she cheers with fake enthusiasm. "Oh, and fair warning, if you want to stay alive...don't piss me off."
Evie shakily nods, "I'm assuming I'm not gonna get you to call me Evelyn?"
"Too proper, Evie suits you more."
"Whatever, M."
"M, that's the best nickname you can come up with?" Mal laughs.
"Without you killing me for it."
"Fair enough."
"So, M, what's next?"
Mal shrugs. She hadn't expected to leave without this girl being dead, so her gang proposal was just an at the moment thing. Though it was hard to deny her bubbly personality wasn't at least a little fun.
"Oh, I saw them do this thing on the Auradon channels! They called it a hug! You wrap your arms around the other person and-"
"I said don't piss me off."
"Come on M," Evie whined. "Please?"
"I think you're taking this family thing too far, Evie," Mal complains.
Evie laughs. "Sure seems that way, now just spread out your arms, like this, and then I wrap my arms around you, and you wrap yours around me, and then we press our bodies together like this and-"
"Is this like some sex thing in Auradon? Cause I am not comfortable with this."
Evie didn't say a word, just squeezed tighter, resting her head on Mal's shoulder.
"Evie, just-"
"Shh, just try to relax, M. That's how this hug thing works."
"But I don't-" Evie frowned, her eyes growing ten sizes only to emphasize how sad she was. She batted her lashes, her lips formed a thin line. It was almost impossible to say no to that, even for Mal.
"Fine, one hug."
"Mhmm, that's what I thought," Evie quipped, squeezing her new friend a bit tighter. Were they friends? She didn't kill her at least, she knew that. Does that make them friends? Regardless, neither of them knew what this new friendship would hold. What would come of it? After all, friendship was kind of forbidden on the Isle of the Lost.