Hi my lovelies! About time I got an update going, right?
I'm so profusely sorry about the unintended months long, I promise I'm doing ok, but instead of making excuses I'll just jump into the reviews, yeah?
narutogirl103: Things are definitely getting intense, and it only gets worse from there so hold on to your hat! :)
Elizabeth Anette: He will most certainly be answering some things, don't you worry. Our Ben's gonna have quite the epiphany/breakdown, haha.
Nyehhhh: Thank you for the kind words, I'm glad you love this story so much. I hope this more will make up for the wait!
Time Turner: Yes, the truth! (Or a piece of it, at least...) And Ben didn't forget, he just...was trying to avoid telling them for as long as he could, but of course, he can't really catch a break, can he?
Nix: Not gonna lie, it was partly your nugde that helped get me to push the last bit out and get that chapter up, lol. I'm glad you're liking everything so far and I hope you'll continue to follow along and enjoy.
tigerladygamer: Mama bear Mal is definitely going to go at it, (or would mama dragon be the more acurrate term?) Lol. And yes, Carlos hasn't signed in a while, and though he will be a bit more here, there's some development reasons as to why he hasn't that'll start to play out soon. Glad you enjoyed the chapter and I hope you'll enjoy this one just as much. :)
EvietoyourMal: Glad to hear you enjoyed everything! There's definitely a lot going on with everyone and the Council meeting is going to be no exception. I know this update wasn't exactly 'soon,' but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless.
A: There's definitely those moments there, yeah. The Four really haven't learned yet how to truly be close, in the sense of close not just for the sake of survival, and so there's that element of not knowing for all of them, which is really going to start being explored more and I can't wait to dig into! ;)
And short stories have never been my strong suit, so don't worry, there'll be plenty more for you to read and enjoy! :)
Junior: Thank you for the review and the kind words! Mal definitely tries to put everyone in a box, but it backfires on her when she finds out that sometimes they don't want to be in a box. There's gonna be some more intense moments all around when that happens, honestly, and it's not just going to be Ben pulling the floor away.
As for the 'also' moment, I was referring to when Audrey and Mal met and talked, and Audrey said that she wasn't surprised at how quickly Mal had started to accept Aziz, because of the Isle life and 'also...' She trailed off, but the implication (and Mal's later revelation) is because of the perceived relationship between Mal and Evie; the way Audrey had seen them interact. So Mal realized that, and is now having a tiny crisis over it. ;)
I hope I managed to clear things up for you, but feel free to let me know if not and I'll do my best to clarify. :)
ceara1888: Thank you for the review! I'm glad you thought it flowed a bit better this time. I hope this one goes the same and that you'll enjoy it just as much.
Guest 2.0: Haha, thank you so much for the kind words! I'm glad to see I'm succeeding with my ships and that you're catching on to Mal/Daisha. There's definitely gonna be more flashback for that as well. And I'm also glad you enjoyed my Mal and Evie interactions. I had fun with those. ;) They all deserve the world, honestly, though the way they're going about getting it might not be ideal for Auradon. But regardless, I hope you'll continue to read and enjoy!
Descendants5HLM: Thank you so much for the review and the kind words! I'm glad you're loving Daisha so much...she's definitely a bad ass and for sure one of my favorite Isle ocs so far. You're definitely not wrong to have Isle trust issues, lol, though maybe don't be so quick to assume the worst about the Huns. (At least not yet ;))
As for Chad and Audrey, I agree with you 100%, which is also why I made sure to put in that Chad isn't completely comfortable with it as well. They might not be 'cheating' in any physical sense, but he knows that there's more to it for Audrey than just 'talking' either. He's trying, our Charming is, but it's definitely a complicated and dangerous game all around.
I'm glad you enjoyed the Mal and Evie interactions. It's definitely interesting to see because here's Evie just starting to realize that she wants to strike out and be her own person not just under the shadow of her mother, whereas with Mal, that's all she's ever known and she can't fathom anything else for herself (at least not at this time. She has her valid reasons, but they have yet to be revealed...)
And Ben is definitely the one that can't get a break right now, isn't he? He's trying but he most certainly won't hold out for long. Poor boy's gonna snap.
rebecahl97: Welcome to the story and thank you so much for the review and the kind words! I'm glad you're enjoying everything so far, even with the unideal situations, haha. Mal definitely is trying to look our for her crew, thinking that if she puts them all in a box they'll be safe but she hasn't quite figires out yet that they don't really want to be safe in a box, lol. Ben will be growing, though he's already starting to realize that he can't keep looking at things through his fairytale lenses and has to put on some grown up glasses if he wants to make things work.
All will be revealed in time, either through backstories or other means, and I hope you'll stick around and keep reading and enjoying! :)
Gracfully: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you liked it and I hope you'll like this one just as much. :)
Aeonia- DA: Haha, thank you for the review and the kind words. Though it's never my intetnion to truly cause any of you distress, I do consider it a mission accomplished if I've managed to make you emotional in some way. So I'm glad I was able to make you emotional, although I do sincerely apologize if it was a little too much.
I hope you'll continue to read and enjoy! :)
how you make the color blue: Welcome to the story and thank you for the review and kind words! I'm really glad you're enjoying everything I've come up with so far. I have a vague idea of pairings I want to do, haha, although I will say I think you are the first (that I've seen) to ship Chad/Mal. Not sure if that's the direction I'll go but I gotta say, it'd definitely be intriguing, lol.
I hope you'll continue to follow along and enjoy!
Miss Brunette Barbie: Welcome welcome and thank you so much for leaving a review! I'm glad you're enjoying all my little character developments, I've definitely been enjoying pushing Ben's boundaries and fleshing him out more cuz I did love him so much in the movies but he just wasn't quite 'real' haha. As for the pairings I'm going with something a little different for Ben and Mal...following the canon to some extent but not with the Bal pairing in mind (much to the heartbreak of many...) As far as Jay/Lonnie I'm for sure going that route as I agree, they're very evenly matched and they fit well together. In terms of everything else, I'm still playing around with it...some plot and character developments have definitely changed things and the vague idea I have in mind is definitely making an impact. (I have a feeling there will be more broken hearts, lol)
Regardless, I hope you'll continue to read and enjoy! :)
Shiro Dayn: Greetings and thank you for leaving a review! Your English is just fine, I promise. I've seen worse from 'native' English speakers so you have nothing to fear. ;) It's amazing to see how far my story has reached. I hope you'll continue to follow along and enjoy! :)
Guest: Hey, thank you so much for the kind words! I wasn't sure about if you reviewed before either (unless you're Junior in which case, hello again Junior!) but I just wanted to say thank you for the review and I'm glad you enjoy my story and writing so much. I promise this fic is not abandoned, things just got really busy/crazy but it always helps to know that there are people who enjoy the story and are waiting for more. :) I hope you'll keep reading (and reminding) and enjoying! :D
Fiona: Welcome and thank you for the kind words! I'm glad you're enjoying this story, although it does suck to hear about your teacher. I'm sorry about that. Sometimes people are ignorant and it's up to us to just keep pushing on and living in spite of what they think. :)
I hope you'll continue to read and enjoy!
WolvesRock14: Glad to see you're all caught up! Just in time for an update, right? I'm definitely considering expanding some of those one offs, though it wouldn't be till after this one is done since I kinda have story commitment issues, haha. More like I just start multiple relationships with stories and forget to finish them... But anyway I'm glad you're enjoying everything I've come up with so far, and that I have made you feel for Chad and others. On a personal note I'm also going to say thank you so much for the kind words because it always means a lot to hear that people enjoy my writing not just for the story but also just the writing and my style itself so thank you for that! :)
Anyway, back to your review. ;) I'm glad you liked my touch of naming the Wolf. There's also background story reasons as to why I did that; character developments and healing that will definitely be occurring. But I thought it was a fitting touch considering just how creepy the Wolf actually is in the fairytales...yeah... As for the Council well, it's going to be a bit of a slap in the face for everyone, not gonna lie. Lot's of things (and people) go /boom/ to say the least.
I hope you'll continue to read and enjoy!
Author's Note 1:
Ok guys, just a quick blurb from me here. A lot of stuff happened (health stuff, work, classes, family stuff, much needed vacation) although the biggest development was that over this past weekend by laptop crashed. I'm currently writing this from my new laptop (thanks Amazon and 2 day shipping) however, I don't yet know if I'll be able to have the hard drive of my old laptop recovered. Which means that I'd lose...pretty much everything; this entire story up to this chapter, a bunch of other fanfics and actual fics in progress.
So as of now I won't say hiatus, because I just got back from all the chaos and I want to keep writing with what I can, but just...maybe slower updates as I try and figure out technology stuff.
Thanks for understanding, and any thoughts, prayers, good thoughts to the universe etc that you could send for my computer would be appreciated! :)
Author's Note 2: The real one, this time!
***Warnings***
The warnings for this chapter include the standard; violence and threats of violence, language, some brief homophobia/homophobic slurs/insults; descriptions and implications of child abuse and neglect, as well as implications of and brief (non graphic) threats of assault; gang activity; mild politics; and violence involving children.
This is where we really start digging in and making changes, that is, character wise and plot development wise, this is the part where everyone's just like screw it all and makes some big, bold and heartbreaking moves, so brace yourself cuz this one gets intense!
It's not all bad, though I promise, and we even get a familiar face or two (wink wink nudge nudge) so I hope you guys enjoy!
The songs that inspired this chapter are 'Apres Moi' by Regina Spektor (title) Bad Blood' by Bastille, 'Health' by Funeral Suits, 'We Only attack Ourselves' by Funeral Suits and 'Hands Down' also by Funeral Suits; as well as, 'Careful' and 'Playing God' by Paramore; 'Disenchanted' and 'I don't love you' by My Chemical Romance; and 'Broken Crown' by Mumford and Sons, and 'Little Lion Man' by Mumford and Sons (specifically the bookshop session).
The last few songs in particular I recommend listening to either along with Ben's POV, or before, just to set the tone, but enjoy as you will. :)
As always, I look forward to hearing what you think!
- Raven
Isaac
If you had told the man who had travelled across realms and through magic barriers, who had created and destroyed worlds and all manner of other unbelievable (and perhaps even unspeakable) things, all with just a scratch of a quill that he would one day fall in love and have a child with Cruella de Vil, he would have laughed in your face and claimed it impossible.
Yet here he is some decades (centuries? millennia?) later, staring at that very child, and he's finding it rather hard to look away and pay attention to the words being spoken around him.
"….feel that it's a bit dramatic of you to say that," some royal was mumbling to his left. His fingers twitch on the table, a slight jerk that might go unnoticed given how preoccupied everyone else was. He doesn't need to look to know- his hands so well versed by now- that if he'd had a pen his hand would have spelled out C-H-A-R-M-I-N-G, and his stomach clenches because he'd written so many Charming's; so many slippers and dazzling smiles and chivalrous rage; and he has to force himself to remember that this is not one of his.
"…After all, we have been providing the Isle aid," the man finishes, and the girl with the purple hair scoffs and rolls eyes as green as Forest moss.
His fingers twitch again, an idle line with a vague question mark trailing the end. He doesn't know her, hasn't written her. She's not the one that matters anyway. Nor does the girl with raven-blue hair that has his fingers shaking their way through 'Regina' on the table for some reason; or the tanned youth with an uneasy air that has him muttering 'viper' under his breath.
No, that right was reserved solely for the small boy with pale skin and lightning-dog-crazy shock-spilled ink- white hair and his freckles! who was fidgeting with something fuzzy on his belt and kept his eyes -his eyes his eyes what color are his eyes?- resolutely on the floor.
[C-A-R-L-O-S.]
His fingers moved fluidly under the table, signing the letters with the ease and speed that only years (decades? centuries? millennia?) of practice could achieve.
"Define 'aid,'" the purple -'dragon purple' his invisible pen scratches out- haired girl spits.
'Spits? Green? Fire? Flames? Dragon purple? Oh.'
"Oh you must be Maleficent's daughter," he blurts, and his eyes are roving over to 'Regina' and it clicks there too and he sighs his relief at the obvious answer. "Evil Queen, that's why…she'd like you, I think."
He's glad he doesn't have a pen, because the table would surely have been scored to ruins as his fingers none-too-gently scratch over the surface, rewriting this new information.
"Ah-hem."
He jerks, and he realizes that the room is silent, and when he lifts his head he can see people staring at him with wide (and some disgusted) eyes. He blinks at the crowns- they didn't have crowns like that these days in the Forest- oh.
"I did it again, didn't I?" he murmurs, feeling his face flushing with heat, folding his hands carefully on the table and hoping it hadn't been too bad.
"One would almost think you're more disruptive than these villains," a grizzled royal sneers from behind him. His fingers clench tighter together as 'Stefan' flits through his mind. "Any more of these outbursts of yours and you'll-"
"And do you have that authority to dismiss me, sir?" Isaac snaps right back, straightening in his seat and squaring his shoulders. "Royal advisor to the Queen of Arandelle?"
"Who isn't here, I might add," Queen Leila mutters snidely under her breath.
'Yes,' Isaac thinks, narrowing his eyes at the older woman. 'And you should be thanking me for my outbursts; grateful that I insisted on coming in her stead.' If Elsa had gotten her way, he's almost certain there would be no Auradon to speak of, simply a sheet of snow…shit- 'Snow? Snow Queen, ice, mirrors, shards, shatter, glass….glass? Glass slippers, ball….'
He exhales softly in relief, feeling it tingling only as a dull ache in the back of his head, his thoughts unable to come up with a suitable train to follow 'ball' with. His time imprisoned in his own book had an unfortunate…side effect. They always said that writers had words floating through their heads, just waiting to be plucked up and written down. Well…if he hadn't before he certainly did now, in the uh, very literal sense. For the most part he was fine, but every now and then a word would come along that triggered 'outbursts.'
"Bad enough we have to listen to this though," someone mutters behind him, and he blinks, but there's no familiarity that strikes him. "If she were here, we'd hear nothing but 'Isle sympathy.'"
"That is exactly why I wanted to have this meeting in the first place," the Prince -'Ben, he likes to be called Ben'- suddenly speaks up from the head of the rows of tables. "For you to see and hear for yourselves what the Isle is actually like, and to show you that the children of the Isle deserve to have better lives."
Carlos, Isaac thinks, eyes flickering to the boy -his; my boy my son- again. He'd gotten so tall. Certainly not much compared to what surely was a healthy standard, but he'd grown and there was something of a creator about him…his hands…fingers that trailed the length of a simple hooked chain, linking and unlinking the fuzzy thing attached with such intent and precision, even though it looked as if he was only playing. His cheeks weren't as hollow, Auradon's food already doing him good even if he was still a little pale. The shape of his face just like his mother's, her strong jaw and brows; but the curve of his ears, the smirky press of his lips, the curls of his hair dark underneath the shock of white, his freckles….
'You're going to smudge the ink,' comes the poke from his thoughts, and he blinks, realizes that his cheeks are damp. His eyes continue to trail to Carlos, even as some small debate breaks out around him. He was wearing a pair of faded black shorts, and Isaac feels his lips curling up because even now he can remember the hell the boy had raised the one and only time he'd put him into a pair of pants. The shirt he wore was white (or at least it had been white; now it was an odd beigey color), with no sleeves, and black splotching it almost like spots. Sleeves cover Carlos' arms though, and Isaac realizes it's because he's wearing some kind of button up shirt underneath. He's just about to try and figure out his shoes when he hears:
"…and what of these alleged claims of abuse?"
His head snaps up so fast it hurts, but it's a small twinge compared to the swarm it brings in his mind; the words and memories and sensations so much it's becomes a thick roar in his ears.
"Yeah, I don't know what high horses you're riding, but it needs to kick you off now," Maleficent's daughter sneers, and though it's ferocity in her voice, her eyes flicker, and he knows that flicker. He's written that flicker, seen its origins and its aftermath.
"I beg your pardon?" comes a splutter, and he has to shift back and cross his arms to restrain his fingers from writing across the table again.
"Oh well sure," the girl continues smoothly, and he has a sudden flash of a different Maleficent; with dark horns framed by even darker hair and a dangerous, feral croon. He doesn't remember writing her, but he remembers that croon as it's echoed in this new, smaller form. "If my forgiving you will make you feel better about yourself then yeah…I forgive you."
"Excuse-"
"I forgive you for leaving us to an island full of criminals and thieves and murderers," she says it with a lift of her chin, and he aches again for paper; to scribble the edges of her expression in this moment. "For forcing us to battle for our very survival; for the scraps of clothes and food that you considered trash. For our parents."
Her voice lowers over those last words, something like poison; like salt; like sour sour…bitter; acid. Something like acid on her tongue. Her eyes turn, though her head does not, and Isaac follows her gaze to see them roaming over the tanned boy (viper) and the raven-blue girl (high collars and leather and Regina would love her for sure he knows) and Carlos….his Carlos, and he watches the acid twist her expression as it spills over her lips.
"You keep bringing up that word...like it's something we've invented, or…something that might have existed but died out and you can just dig up its guts to sneer at once in a while."
Her eyes (Forest green moss eyes, thorns and flames and evil lime green eyes) turn to glare at the assembled council, and even Isaac feels a chill (Chill? Cold. Elsa. She'll want to know about this) at the sight. That much hatred and pain should not exist in such young eyes.
"But if there has been any abuse, it's what we've suffered by your hand. You were the ones to curse us to that fate to begin with…if anything I'd say that makes you the real villains here."
"Only our hand?" A voice that he doesn't recognize speaks up from the back, and when he turns to look, Isaac is greeted by the sight of an older man; nearly bald aside from the few grey hairs around his ears. The man is wiping a pair of glasses, and when he places them back on his face diamonds mines heigh ho dwarf doctor…Doc.
"Excuse me?" Maleficent's daughter snaps, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. Defensive, maybe? Or just another front for anger?
"I'd say that's more than just a little bold to claim that you've only suffered abuse at our hands, given the records we have that show quite the opposite." He glances down at something in his hand, then back up again, adjusting his spectacles as he does. "Just who is this…'Persian'?"
"That is not something that you need to know." The fury is apparent now in her bright eyes; her voice tight with the force of it. "You should never have known, and you have no right to stand there and claim that you have any sympathy for what we've been through because if you truly 'cared,' you wouldn't have let it happen in the first place!"
"And does what we're trying to do now not make up for that?"
"What, making yourselves feel less guilty by giving us 'help.' So we're expected to feel grateful to you?"
"You're flattering yourself, child," a bored voice drawls, another that Isaac can't recognize. Some prince? Or maybe a king? Sitting next to a woman with faded auburn hair who at least has the decency to look embarrassed by her husband's words. "I realize you're most likely expecting a trap of some kind, but what use do you really think we could have for you?"
There's a sickening lurch of silence, and quite a few sharp intakes of breath, including from the princess? Queen? sitting beside the man who'd spoken. She hisses something…his name, most likely; but Maleficent's daughter was smiling slightly, an odd emotion…relief…in her eyes.
"Well he's not entirely wrong," she mutters. "And anyway, I guess it's nice to know that there are some of you who know how to be honest about things."
The man dips his head to her as if in a bow, and Isaac realizes that his intent had been just that; to reassure that there was no ill intent planned. Then further muttering from his right catches his attention, and it's not the words he cannot hear so much as the tone that causes his breath to stutter in his throat. Maleficent's daughter stiffens so sharply it's almost a flinch; her eyes and hands both catching fire and causing even more royals to shout and recoil.
"Say that again!" she snarls, lips curling back over her teeth. "Say it to my face this time, you fucking coward!"
"Mal!" The boy soon to be king looks horrified, and yet equally helpless, uncertain tension in his body as he debates between moving forward to subdue her or remaining somewhat untargeted and silent.
Then someone stands, and he's too busy trying to interpret the sudden shift backwards that the girl takes to notice who is speaking.
"I simply spoke the truth: that you have nothing to fear in that regard because I doubt any of us here would demean ourselves, or waste any more of our time on-"
"Damaged goods," the girl finishes in a growl, jaw clenched so tightly he can see every ripple of bone and muscle moving underneath. "Which is just, so funny to hear you say because what are all of you then?"
"I don't know what you think you're implying…."
"Well let's see," she interrupts, her voice echoing with shadow and damp and cold and dead light, dead air…death. "We've got some royals who took a hundred year long power nap and woke up in an entirely new point in time. Who else? Oh; some beggar kid who played a clever enough trick to get himself made royalty…."
Indignant cries rose up to meet her words, but she simply raised her voice accordingly and kept going, a vicious and entirely unforgiving tone to her voice.
"Another kid forced to take on the burden of running a kingdom because he got curious about a shiny sword; girl who wanted so badly to be seen and heard that she gave up every part of herself to do just that, and ended up back where she started anyway with no recognition for her troubles… by the way what's your deal with kids? You hate us because you were all kids when horrible stuff was happening to you? I mean…you're just as damaged as we are."
Grizzled royals stand and shout before she can even finish, and though Isaac immediately tries to tune out their words, his fingers twitch feebly beneath his arms, trying to pick out the best parts of the argument, the worst insults and curses to write down. And then he notices it; the villain children have gone tense and silent; shifting into a kind of organized huddle with Maleficent's daughter in the very front; shoulders back and head high even as those Forest green eyes widen with fear.
The viper is to her left and behind her, hands down by his sides in shaky fists. His eyes (like tarnished bronze and sands and deserts and carpets and caves) alight with anger and distrust roaming over the standing royals as if trying to determine a pattern. The raven-blue girl is to his right, her own eyes (like looking glasses…no wait…different blue. Like reflective pools, taking in everything and showing everything; never able to see to the bottom) wary and sharp, a different pattern already being seen, a soft and deadly tension of some kind building behind them.
And Carlos…his Carlos…is tucked behind them all, small and fearful in that way he had hoped to never see him again. He has the air of something delicate and wild, about to fly away…his eyes (his eyes like…like….) scanning the backs of the room in desperation. And then Isaac can't breathe, his arms unfolding, his hands dropping to the table where his fingers immediately start tracing letters and he doesn't need to look to know and wouldn't tear his gaze away even if he didn't know….
Carlos' eyes lock on his (his eyes! Rich, dark eyes; Eyes like Forest earth and Dalmatian brown; like the warmest veins of wood in a certain magic cabinet; like…his own eyes), and he feels his features fighting to shift into any one expression and ends up flicking through a mix of them all before he freezes, and even his hands go still.
There is no recognition in Carlos' eyes. Those eyes that are just like his own, that he'd wiped tears from and kissed and watched fill with stars when he laughed.
'Carlos.'
His lips form the name but no sound comes out, and a vague flicker crosses the boy's (the boy-his boy- his son's!) face. It's confusion. And fear, he realizes belatedly when his hands resume just long enough to scrawl it out. That some stranger he doesn't know knows his name.
"That is enough!"
The Prince who preferred to be called Ben stood, panting at the front of the room, and Isaac stiffens as his fingers still, the stunned silence of those assembled ringing throughout the room. The boy- no, can he truly be called that, with his eyes (eyes like white ash and clear skies and liquid pools of light) suddenly darkened with fury, his lips curled so viciously that Isaac half-imagines that there are fangs glinting behind them in place of teeth- his anger roils up like a physical wave, and for a moment he is every bit the fairytale Beast. And then he breathes and is a boy again, though the anger is still there, just under the surface of his eyes.
"From the moment I made my decree, I've been questioned and second guessed; accused of trying to destroy Auradon as we know it. But this…this is what is destroying Auradon and I will not stand here and let it continue."
"So you claim, and yet what has this decree of yours accomplished? What have these villains brought except for chaos and ruin? A constant reminder of-"
"Of your failures?" Ben growls, and there's a violent ripple throughout the assembled royals at the sound. "Yes, I can understand how having them here can make you uncomfortable. It's harder to pretend that you didn't do exactly as Mal said and leave however many children to live lives that I feel like I can't even call 'lives.'"
He pauses…hesitates, and in the space of that hesitation a million thoughts and words and voices fight to make themselves known. Isaac dares to look to the children at the center of it all, and though there is no longer that panic, there is still a wary fear in them…except for…Mal, was it? The girl is regarding Ben with some kind of grudge behind her eyes- not quite grateful; not quite respect or trust; it's as if her eyes hold 'I'm not going to say those things, but if I did…'
"I can't claim that I'm completely innocent," the boy prince continues quietly. "My ignorance of just what had been done 'for the sake of the kingdom' meant more time for the cycle to continue. I didn't bring this meeting together to perpetuate that cycle," he says, and his head lifts and those ashen eyes seem to set the very air alight.
"I didn't bring the VKs here to destroy Auradon, I brought them to end the cycle. But I need your help to do that…I need you all to just shut up and listen. And look."
A head turns; he knows because his fingers are moving again, noting the action before he's fully aware of it.
"Are you expecting us to see anything in particular?" A soft, feminine voice asks, and his fingers sketch out a vague blur of words that he doesn't bother interpreting because he already knows what he sees.
"And what's that supposed to mean, your majesty?" The viper hisses, as irreverent and resentful as any disturbed snake.
The woman makes a noise in her throat like a laugh and remains silent, and Isaac turns his head from Carlos just long enough to see the pain twisting Cinderella's expression. He regrets it instantly as he's struck with the images and memories of other Cinderella's, and he vaguely wonders over the one that he wrote about and the life she made in a tiny, hidden town.
"What do you see?" Ben presses in place of reassuring the other boy, and Isaac doesn't need to look to know (his fingers are already moving) that there are tears in the woman's eyes.
"Myself," she whispers lowly, and the Evil Queen's daughter (Grimhilde, he has to remind himself, before his brain can get lost in the flashes of another, darker Queen) scoffs, her lips twitching in some kind of unknown bitterness as she shares a look with Maleficent's daughter.
"And they say only villains have that whole ego thing going," the purple haired girl mutters, loud enough to still be heard clearly. "But I guess I'll take it as some kind of compliment, that you can look at a bunch of villain kids and see yourself."
She smirks as if in victory, but her eyes don't match it...towers thorns fire dragons storms wings curses…guarded. Isaac grits his teeth and blinks, and the words clear, his fingers stilling once more on the table. Her eyes are guarded, as if she'd anticipated something and was just waiting for it to play out. He almost doesn't want to look, but his head turns to Carlos before he can think to resist the urge. He flinches back, caught off guard because if Mal's eyes were guarded, Carlos' are far too…windows sky blank pages ink wells…open.
"Watch your tone, girl!"
The bark comes, not from Stefan as he had initially thought, given the jerky 's' his fingers trace out before he regains his composure- but from Radcliff, who stands so sharply and suddenly his wife doesn't have time to catch his arm. The shift in the villain children is equally sharp and equally sudden; Carlos slips fearfully towards the back of the group, eyes wide and anxious; while the viper's head lifts and his lips go back from his teeth where he stands just in front and to the side of Mal, whose fingers reach out to tangle in the back of his shirt; not quite restraining so much as containing; as if ready to fling him back behind her the moment he lashed out to bite. The other girl, (not Regina's daughter but an evil queen's daughter) does the exact opposite, dropping her chin but not her eyes. They remain sharp and watchful even as she shifts further behind the tallest boy, her body bracing itself for violence.
The actions remain unnoticed by Roger (though not by Ben, whose face twists into a pained grimace; and of course, not by him, his fingers having already scrawled down each and every movement) whose own face contorts fury, eyes accusing as they glare unseen at Carlos. Isaac stiffens, his hands flat on the table only for leverage as they shift to bring him out of his seat because if that man even thought he could get away with looking at his son like that….
"Regardless of how any of us feel about your presence here you forget you still stand before quite the gathering of royalty and those you have wronged. Cleary that means nothing to you given the blatant way you've disrespected us but if you think you can-"
"Ah I see," Mal murmurs, tugging once at the tall viper's shirt. He doesn't relax- if he had been a true snake Isaac would have likened it to a cobra's hood lowering back to its body- but he shifts enough to allow her to step forward. "This is the part where you tell me that if I don't mind my tongue, you'll cut it out of my mouth."
She grins, eyes lighting with emerald with jade with bottle glass with green, and tilts her back to display a scar about half an inch wide and two…maybe three? inches long, thick and raised (a hypertrophic scar, the Author in him [un]helpfully supplies) on the underside of her chin. It's the kind of scar- the kind of cut- that can only really come from a blade, and he doesn't need to imagine (he knows) the kind of conditions it had to have occurred in to cause enough damage to scar like that.
It's a collective sharp intake of breath that meets Mal's still-grinning face as she lowers her chin, her fingers still tangled in the tall boy's shirt. Isaac realizes that this time, it's just as much to support herself as it is to protect or contain him. Even Roger returns to his seat without a word from Anita, and any disgruntled noises anyone else might have made in response to the girl's disrespect choke in their throats.
"Yeah, I've heard that one before," Mal continues, her voice soft even as her fingers go white from where they grip the tall boy's shirt. "Sorry, if you were hoping to be the first to try. I know how disappointing that can be."
Her smile flickers for a second- less broad and more painful- before she straightens again and wipes her expression completely. It would have been a neat trick, but Isaac can still write out every emotion behind the mask. After all, he'd had years (centuries? millennia?) to master reading people so he could write them. And so it's all too easy to pick out the terror and the memories of pain in the corners of her eyes; the defensive way they dart sideways as her chin tilts back minutely- taking stock of the ones around her- the way her jaw twitches like she was losing an argument. (That one in particular, he knew all too well. Regina used to do the same with Cora.)
"And somehow I'm not surprised that even then you haven't learned from your mistakes," a female voice rumbles lowly. It might have been a croon if it weren't so harsh. "Just like your mother."
There's a vague ripple in the air, like heat lifting off a fire, and the tall boy rolls his head to the side and groans, his eyes dark (as rubies as caves as blood) as they glare at the woman.
"Fuck, now you've done it."
"My mother?" Mal repeats, and her voice pitches (teeters breaks) over the word, fingers uncurling from the viper's shirt as she strides forward slowly. "My mother locked me in the basement of our house when I was six because I hadn't yet learned that we lived on the Isle, and on the Isle we don't help goblins pick up apples from the street when they're knocked from their hands. Of course, it's the Isle, so when I say 'basement' I mean 'hole in the ground underneath our crumbling castle that might have been a cellar once but now is just a big hole.'"
Queen Leila makes a strangled noise, and Isaac feels his stomach lurch in panic before he realizes that no, she wasn't about to dissolve into smoke or anything equally horrific; she was merely outraged and mortified at the words coming out of the girl's mouth, and at the girl who spoke them.
"When I was eight, I found out that I was far better off trying to murder my rival than I was at trying to earn her favor. And that that favor was overrated anyway, because she was Maleficent first and my mother, second."
"When I was thirteen- and yes I know I skipped a lot of shit but do you really want to know all the details?" she cuts across a half-hearted whimper with such ease and ferocity that the only reason Isaac knows there had been a whimper was because his hands still hadn't stopped moving.
"I thought…" The whimper falters long enough for him to identify Snow White, then continues before he can dwell too long on another Snow White. "I thought that was the point?"
Mal smirks without any levity; the only amusement a morbid one. "The correct answer is no you fucking don't…and the point? The point is that the only thing our parents ever did 'for' us was give birth to us and then let us keep living, if you can call it that. The point is that you say I'm just like my mother well…be glad you only know your part of the story."
"I…." Ben chokes, clears his throat into the offbeat silence. "I think…that's quite enough for now. We'll-"
"Ducking out again when things don't work out as planned; yeah we know the drill, boy."
A chair slides out as abrupt and gruff as the voice that had spoken, and Isaac starts because he hadn't even seen the dwarf come in but he certainly saw him exit in a huff, and he chuckles just a bit because at least Grumpy hadn't changed- and then he winces because damn it, he missed Stealthy, too- but he can't even express that remorse because this wasn't his story; these weren't his characters…his people….
"Uh…" Ben begins, then stops, pressing his lips tightly together. "We'll meet again later this evening," he intones, as solemnly as he can given the way his hands shake at his sides. He folds them behind his back, where only Isaac is able to note that it does nothing to stop the slight tremble. "I know I've kept you from your kingdoms long enough, but I appreciate-"
"Appreciate all the time we've wasted listening to you whine about villains?" someone mutters, and Ben swallows, while to his left, Mal jerks sharply, her face twisting.
"Your cooperation and understanding," he manages to grit out to their retreating backs.
"At least he's trying," an older woman murmurs, her hair sweeping back over her shoulders in a faded mane of reddish blonde. "That's more than could be said for-"
"And what good will his trying do when they burn down our kingdom?" Stefan snaps back, and Mal's eyes narrow, her lips curling into a snarl.
Ben bows his head as if expecting the words, no resistance in his voice even as he continues with:
"One last meeting to get a final count, hopefully an actual count this time…"
"Ha! He thinks he can get snippy with us for not complying? When he's the one who…"
"Geez, I know they used to crown 'em young cuz of the horrible stuff with plagues and junk…but we don't have any of that now so what's their excuse this time? Cuz I mean between you and me Al, this kid's about one sneeze away from needing a sibling if you know what I…"
"Hey!" Mal snaps, and her voice echoes with the ominous pop of embers in a fire. Silence falls with bated breaths and bared teeth, and Isaac is surprised once again at the amount of anger in her eyes. "Hi, yeah, excuse me? Um, I don't know what words you think are coming out of your mouths but the words that I'm hearing are fit for everyday chatter on the Isle."
"I beg your-"
"Already did that once today, and I wasn't even feeling generous then, so don't push your fucking luck," she hisses, and there might have been further outrage except Isaac is certain that nothing could compare to the girl's own, her movements almost threateningly precise as she gestures to Ben.
"He's your Prince! I might just be a villain kid so I can talk shit about him all I want but you guys are actually part of his kingdom so what the fuck is your excuse? He's literally about to be king in a few months isn't he? Like, fuck, guys, even on the Isle there's such a thing as hierarchy and respect!"
"Are you implying that we're behaving like villains?!"
"Of course not," she says quickly, and though her chin drops her eyes remain fire green and locked on the remaining royals. "You're playing exactly the heroes you're supposed to. But like I said, I was already not-generous before so unless you want me to really say what I'm thinking-"
"Why don't I tell you what I'm thinking instead…?"
Stefan breaks from the crowd of royals, hands going with time-honed ease to his belt, fingers closing around the hilt of a small dagger. The blade is barely that; only used for ceremony and decoration more than actual use, and is certainly nothing compared to the sword it might have once been. But the monarch grips it with clear intent, and within seconds the tall boy is tensing to run to Mal's side, the other villain children poised for the same.
Mal snaps her fingers sharply and then extends her arms, palms back and facing the children behind her. Instantly they switch tactics, spreading out further while still moving up; creating a space with less risk of getting overwhelmed, remaining within range for support and added defense.
"Go ahead," Mal all but purrs the words, eyes wide and wild with fear and exhilaration as flames suddenly curl around her forearms. "I fucking dare you."
"That is enough!" Ben shouts, and if Mal's voice had popped with fire then his is a wolf's howl. "Everyone stand down, at once!"
Mal's head tilts warily in his direction, her posture shifting tentatively into something of a yield as the flames slowly dim. Stefan, however, seized by the same madness that had surely gripped him hundreds of times before (Isaac knows, he wrote some of them) takes the moment of distraction and draws his blade and steps forward in one smooth motion…and is instantly paralyzed as the tall boy (viper, truly, in that moment) strikes, seizing his arm and snapping it up and out with a sharp and painful *snap*. The blade falls from the man's hand with a curse, and the boy hisses a dangerous laugh through his teeth as Stefan squirms in a vain attempt to lash out.
"You wanna try that again?" he taunts, but Mal barks a sharp noise that takes Isaac a second to recognize as his name.
"Jay!"
The boy pouts but the danger was gone from his body, even as he kicks Stefan's blade up into his own hand.
"Mine now," he whispers cheekily, before releasing the man and shoving him backwards so hard he trips and crashes against the tables he'd come from.
"I said that's enough," Ben growls, and Isaac shivers at the traces of the beast in his voice. It's not quite his beast (he's fairly certain, at least. He'd remember if he'd written anything like this before) but it's just as furious in its own right and there's complete silence once again from the room; the villain children shifting closer together in a defensive position.
"I've had enough of this behavior and I will not continue to sit and smile through it anymore!"
Isaac watches with no small amount of confusion as Mal's lips curl on one side, a small, almost secret smirk lifting her expression for all of two seconds before it returns to a far more neutral air. He wonders what she knows that he doesn't…why her shoulders had suddenly relaxed and her eyes seem almost unaffected, in contrast to the tight and horrified expressions that make their way in various forms across the other royals' faces.
And then his fingers twitch and Ben finishes his sentence.
"King Stefan, you are hereby dismissed from all future meetings, including the one tonight. From this moment on you are no longer a member of my Council."
"Your Council?!" the man splutters indignantly, his face going nearly as red as his cloak (which wasn't quite as red as Gaston's had been but not too far off…Isaac had fun writing his Gaston…he doesn't think he should mention that, though.)
"Yes," Ben says, and it's such a simple 'yes' and yet the light is back in the pools of his eyes and Isaac can tell it's a yes he'd been waiting to say for a while. "Feel free to take the extra time you now have to start the journey back to your kingdom. I heard it might storm again so an early departure works out great."
"Now you listen here, boy," Stefan spits, and Isaac notes that while Mal bares her teeth in a snarl, both Jay and Carlos flinch at the word, and his stomach and chest fight to decide which of them can clench tighter at the fear in his boy's eyes. "You might believe what you want about these …'children'…but if you think you can dismiss me from this Council…from this kingdom…you've got another thing coming. Your father-"
"My father has given me explicit control over all matters regarding the VKs," Ben interrupts, and there's a wild feral can't be tamed savageness in his voice that Isaac knows he'd never be able to fully capture on page. "That includes meetings, and who does and does not attend them. And after he hears about the attempted attack on the VKs as well as the various, multiple threats that you have levelled in my direction, you'll consider yourself lucky if the kingdom of Aurorae is allowed to retain its privileges as part of Auradon."
If you had told the man who had travelled realms, created worlds and recorded the stories of the people in those worlds all with a scratch of a quill; who surely must have seen everything -that he would one day witness the sight of King Stefan cringing speechless before an eighteen year old boy; he'd have laughed in your face and claimed it impossible. He'd surely have known if such a thing were to occur because he'd have written it. And yet here he is some years (centuries? millennia?) later, witnessing that very thing. And it's not that he's angry- far from it. He's just jealous he didn't get to write it first.
Evie
To say that the hideout was a mess would be an understatement. Paint cans and other vessels of the like were scattered all throughout the loft; the windows stained and cracked, with a few missing panels thrown in as a casual reminder of where it was located. The outlines of a mural could just be seen, lending a much brighter tone to the wall on which it resided- the residue of some other color (grey or beige, it depended on who you asked) chipping and cracking underneath. A half of a couch (it had been absolute hell claiming the thing, not to mention getting it to the loft and up the stairs; but it was green and so it had to be theirs) was shoved against one of the walls, a single cushion still attached to the arm serving as a pillow. The couch had been bed to all of them at one point or another over time, the loft the only true 'safe' place they knew.
And so to see it in this state: both couch and singular cushion alike slaughtered ruthlessly; thick, jagged slashes spilling its remaining stuffing throughout the room; paint seeping into the floor from where the cans had been kicked and even flung; the mural a horrific mess of grey and purple and black, the color dripping almost like blood from its brutal wiping over; the symbol of a trident stamped mockingly in the center. It's more than jarring.
"What…" Evie started to ask, stepping carefully over a paint can and wincing when her boot lands in a puddle of red. "What happened?"
"What do you think?" Mal snapped, her shoulders shaking as she stared at the ruined mural.
"That witch!" Jay snarled, eyeing the stuffing mournfully. "I liked that couch, dammit."
Evie wanted to point out that the couch was not the worst of the damage, nor the thing he should be concerned about- Mal's anger…that was the thing to worry over. The other girl still hadn't moved from the mural, her fingers ghosting over the goopy black, and Evie could see the way the muscles in her back stiffened in fury. Before she could think of any pitiful attempt at comfort, a whistle sounded from outside the window. Instantly, Mal snapped into action, practically flying to the window and turning the handle, pushing it out and open in more or less one smooth motion.
"Yo, boss," a familiar voice rang up from the street. "You're gonna want to come down for this."
'This' as it turned out to be, was about four of their gang- Meda, daughter of Medusa; and Link, Jolt, and Tuck, the 'children' of the infamous pranksters Lock, Shock and Barrel, respectively. They weren't exactly their 'children' in a biological sense; the trickster spirits of Halloweentown had already been dead for ages when the Isle had come to be, and therefore couldn't be brought back in the same way. The three before them now, put simply, were just another incarnation of their original counterparts. And they were just as irritating and troublesome as they'd been in their first not-life.
Evie, being a respectable young woman, wouldn't ever say that she 'hated' anyone….
A wolf whistle sounded from the tallest, red clad figure, an eery grin leveled at her from an unsettling skeletal face.
"Hey tits," Link called as Evie approached, his tongue sticking out from between his teeth in a grotesque imitation of a laugh. "Always good to see you."
She hated the little demon with a fiery, burning passion, which, knowing him, he'd probably be thrilled to hear about. She still didn't completely understand how they had gotten to be the way they were; for all appearances and purposes they didn't look much older than nine or ten, with Tuck appearing the youngest at around six. But they were all horrid and grotesque in their own, particularly gruesome ways, and so of course they had to be a part of Mal's gang.
Mal, for her part, snarled sharply in the demon's direction, and while he didn't exactly stop leering at Evie, he at least had the common sense to not be as obvious about it.
"What is it you wanted me to see?" Mal snapped, and Tuck shuffled his feet, running fingers through bruised blue-black hair.
"We uh, heard what happened to the hideout," he began and Mal bared her teeth, eyes flashing darkly.
"Oh you heard did you? And is this your way of expressing some kind of sentiment about it? Because that is far from helpful and it'll be the last thing you'll ever do."
"As if," Meda muttered, rolling her eyes from the edge of the group. "What he means is we heard what happened to the hideout, and we tracked the pirates that did it to the edge of their territory."
"And found this little minx creeping around with some of your paints," Jolt finished, and its then that Evie noticed the other figure, their collar gripped tightly in Link's fist.
What at first looked to be a moving paint splotch revealed itself to be a small girl, probably only about seven or eight years old. Her hair, or what could be seen of it, was a dust brown color, but that was overshadowed by the sheer amount of color staining pretty much every other strand an odd array of pink and blue and green and yellow. The rest of the girl was colored in pretty much the same way, the only blank surface being her face, which was pale and furious as she kicked against Link's grip, eyes flashing behind a thick pair of dark glasses.
"Asshole," the girl spat, kicking at Link again.
Girl, Evie thought. A child, really, she couldn't have been older than Carlos…seven, at least. But unlike Carlos, there was something fierce in this girl; she was bold where he was timid; soft, yes, but not quite so easily construed as sweet and innocent. Plus, Evie mused with a slight smile as she watched the girl continue to kick and swear at the demon-child holding her, she wasn't easily pushed around.
"I like her."
"Excuse me?"
Evie jumped, realizing only in the face of Mal's glare that she'd said that out loud.
"I…I just meant…"
"No, go on," Mal snapped when she faltered. "Keep telling us how much you adore the little pirate who stole our stuff and probably helped trash our hideout."
"I'm not a pirate!" The girl shrieked indignantly, her cry promptly followed by a bellow from Link , and Evie looked over with no small trace of amusement as she realized the girl had managed to kick where no male wanted to be kicked, effectively freeing herself.
"Oh you little bitch!" Link squeaked, reaching vainly for the girl as she darted out of his reach. Unfortunately for her, there were others waiting to grab her, and she was promptly subdued (courtesy a harsh blow from Meda that made both Evie and Carlos flinch in protest) and grabbed up again.
"Alright enough," Mal said, and the girl froze, eyes uncertain at the sudden bite in the older girl's tone.
Even Evie had to pause, taken aback by the ferocity. She exchanged a glance with Carlos, who signed frantically to her as Mal strode towards the girl; with both palms up and in 'D' handshapes, he rapidly crooked his pointer finger towards himself, almost tapping it against his thumb before continuing; with his palm facing himself and index finger extended, he made a quick, small circular motion before emphasizing his point by gesturing towards Mal.
[Do something!]
[What?] Evie signed back, spreading her hands and giving a helpless shrug of her shoulders.
Carlos huffed soundlessly at her, eyes rolling slightly as he signed; both hands in 'A' handshapes; closed fist with thumb against the side of his fingers and the thumb pointing upwards, he turned his hands sideways before spreading his hands into flat palms. Then he kept going, quickly fingerspelling M-A-L before bringing his left hand up in an index handshape; making a short, stabbing motion in the direction of his flat right hand; finishing by pointing towards the girl, who was now staring up at a rather furious looking Mal.
[Anything! Mal will kill her!]
Evie started to reply that she didn't think that was likely to happen, but then again, Mal had been far more…ruthless….than usual. She didn't know exactly why or what had happened; the other girl certainly never entertained Evie's questions long enough to find out. Only that something had happened and now Mal was even more pissed off at the world than usual, and far more willing to prove it.
"Mal," Evie said slowly, following Carlos' signed prompts. "She's just a child."
[Tiny] Carlos signed; bringing his thumb and index finger together like they were shrinking something between them; then making a 'Y' shape and indicating back and forth between himself and the girl.
"Tiny," Evie repeated dutifully, a tiny twitch of a smile tugging at her lips despite the severity of the situation. "Like Carlos."
"Since when have I ever let size make a difference?" Mal retorted, and Evie grimaced as she remembered the particularly nasty fight with the Wharf Rats a couple weeks ago. They'd somehow got in their heads that Carlos being part of their gang signified a weakness, and had set up a vain attempt at an ambush. It had been a clever attempt in its own way, but none of the children had escaped unscathed, despite the fact that they'd all been under eight. To be fair, the rats had started the conflict, and despite their size no child on the Isle ever stayed truly innocent for long.
But there was something about this little girl staring boldly up at Mal that struck Evie as distinctly not Isle-like; her eyes still bright and young and full of a defiance that really was just the kind of innocent that didn't exist.
"I'm not scared of you," she said. A fearless boast; her lips curling in the exaggerated pout of anger that only one so small could achieve.
"Oh, you shouldn't be," Mal crooned, eyes wide with false sincerity as she stooped to be eye level with the girl. Evie shivered and exchanged a panicked look with Carlos because for just one second, she'd almost sounded like Maleficent.
"I'm not going to hurt you, after all," Mal continued smoothly, but her head cocked and Evie could see her eyes flicker pointedly to the left.
In spite of herself, Evie followed the shifted gaze to see Link, grinning that disturbingly feral grin of his; one hand still precariously clutching at his waist. She stiffened at the undisclosed threat, but didn't dare open her mouth now and draw attention to her discomfort. Not only would that place a further target on herself from Link, but to appear in any way undivided, well….they didn't need any further attacks than what they were already dealing with.
"But I can't exactly make any claims for the rest of my gang, you understand?" Mal said in an undertone, smiling as if confiding something to the now trembling girl. "So how about I just take back the paints you stole and we'll just pretend it never happened, ok?"
"No," the girl mumbled, and though her voice shook, there was an equal measure of that defiance still in her eyes as she brought a shaky hand up to adjust her glasses. "I…I need them."
"You need them?" Mal repeated dubiously, lifting a brow, that smile still on her face. "For what?"
"The…the dyes I make," the girl whispered, arms coming up to hug herself as she shifted backwards just a step.
"Uma makes dyes," Meda broke in, a haughty sort of look on her face as she combed her fingers through her own, seaweed green hair.
"Uma thinks she makes dyes," the girl retorted, almost smug as he lifted her chin daringly. "Mine actually last longer than a single wash."
"Since when does anyone wash?" Jolt muttered enviously, and Evie straightened, something in the small girl's words tipping her off to something.
"Mal," she said, but stopped when Mal lifted her hand, her own gaze suddenly dark.
"Yeah, no, I got it," she snapped, and her eyes narrowed as she bent to the child again.
"What's your name, brat?"
"I'm-" The girl faltered, fidgeting with her glasses again before answering, eyes on her paint-stained shoes. "They call me Dizzy."
"Dizzy," Mal repeated slowly, and her brow furrowed even further as she straightened, turning her head to glare at the assembled quartet.
"Where did you say you found her again?"
"Pirate territory," Meda answered, when the triplets took too long quarreling over who would answer. "Like we said. She was heading in the direction of Tremaine's and that's smack in the middle of the pirates' turf. No way to survive being that deep in unless you've got something going on with them."
"It's…not easy," the girl mumbled, and Mal nodded idly, eyes still narrow.
"Yeah I bet…wait, Tremaine?" She straightened sharply, turning and pointing cautiously at the girl. "Drizella?" she said slowly, and the girl- Dizzy- shuffled her feet with a self-conscious grimace.
"She's…my mom," she said quietly, and Mal went white, letting out a breathless noise as she turned back to the other four.
"Oh, you….idiots!" She snarled, and they all flinched at the venom in her voice. "We're on good terms with Tremaine, and you assholes went and…." She quieted, the tension remaining in her shoulders alone. "One. Two."
"Oh fuck, this is where we run, isn't it?" Tuck whined, as Mal reached 'Three' and her eyes lit with fire.
"Yeah," Evie said, no small amount of smugness in her voice as Mal's hand curled around a blade. "This is where you run."
Jolt yelped, grabbing Tuck and shoving him ahead of her as she bolted down the street, Link following not a moment behind, limping ever so slightly.
"Don't have to tell me twice," Meda sighed, disappearing in a separate direction and leaving just the remaining four of them.
"Fucking idiots!" Mal repeated, fingers trailing the length of her throwing knife. "I don't know why I don't just kill them and be done with it."
"Because you know that if you kill the triplets they'll just come back again later and haunt you till you die?" Evie supplied. "And Meda is stupidly fond of them so she'd probably just kill you in revenge before they got the chance to?"
"Thank you, Evie," Mal drawled sarcastically, teeth bared in frustration as she slowly slid her knife back in her belt.
"Um…"
"Right," Mal snapped, at the uncertain hum from the girl behind them. "Sorry about that. Like I said, can't always control what they do, you know."
"Uh huh," Dizzy said, nodding slowly and with obvious disbelief.
"Look, how about you keep the paints, and we'll actually pretend like this never happened?" Mal said, hands spreading as if to show she was harmless despite all her earlier threats. "Past is past?"
"Forgive, forget," Dizzy finished, a small, knowing sort of smile flickering onto her face. "I know how it goes."
"Good," Mal said, obvious relief in her eyes. "We really are on good terms with Tremaine, and I'd hate to think…."
"I don't know if I get that, though," Dizzy cut in, crossing her arms again and frowning. Rather boldly, in Evie's opinion, but then again, everything about this girl was pretty bold. "Granny hates the gangs so I don't know why you keep saying that."
"Your Granny profits from the gangs," Mal laughed, though not entirely mean spirited. "We keep the worse gangs out of her way, scare some customers towards her shops, keep an eye on Antoine so the bastard doesn't get himself killed when he's playing his tricks; and in return, she keeps us safe from the big names who tend to flock around her and occasionally turns a blind eye when we 'borrow' stuff from those shops."
Dizzy looked unsettled at the idea, but before Evie could think of something to say to comfort her (or scold Mal), she spoke up, fingers tugging at a loose thread in her dress.
"Damien," she said softly, and Mal frowned.
"Huh?"
"His name is Damien," she repeated, a bit more firmly this time, eyes hard as she looked up at them.
"No, I don't mean one of your cousins or whatever," Mal said slowly, unsure. "I meant Anastasia's son, who probably should be in Auradon with her but isn't because her prince didn't agree to claiming him, so he got sent here instead…it was a huge thing how do you not….?"
"No," Dizzy snapped, and it was so odd to see her suddenly so angry, her hands in shaky fists at her sides. "He's my big brother, and his name is Damien, I think I would know."
"But then what?"
"It's probably what Granny came up with to tell people so they wouldn't get nosy," Dizzy replied somewhat grumpily, that angry pout back on her face. "Like now."
"Ok, easy," Mal chided, though Evie could tell she was just as stunned as she was by the information, the furrow in her brow indicating her confusion. "If she's spreading that then it's no wonder…"
"What Mal means to say," Evie cut in, as the smaller girl's eyes threated to cloud with furious tears. "Is that we're all on the same team, so there's no point in fighting like this."
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Mal mumbled dismissively, but her own eyes were still sharp enough that Evie could tell she was still genuinely concerned.
"…yeah," Dizzy finally managed reluctantly, and Evie sighed quietly in relief and offered her a smile.
"Good, now. I'm Evie; that's Carlos," she nodded her head over in the direction of the smaller boy, who waved shyly but didn't offer more than that. "And of course, you know Mal. She can be a bitch sometimes but she's actually harmless, I promise."
"Don't speak too soon," Mal growled, but Evie just waved her off, and Dizzy finally cracked and giggled, the last traces of tension fading from her body.
"It's fine," she said, glancing around them. "If it's true what you said then…that we're all on the same team, then there's no point in staying mad at each other. You'll just end up hurting yourself."
"Smart kid," Mal chirped, grinning now. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."
"Uh huh," Dizzy said in faux skepticism, adjusting her glasses again and not bothering to hide her own obvious smile. "And you're not just saying because I'm not going to tell Granny how you kidnapped me and…"
"And I'm going to not remember that you stole from the daughter of Maleficent and I am more than happy to live up to the reputation," Mal countered, and though Dizzy's eyes went wide at the revelation, she was still smiling just a little.
"Woah, ok," she said. "Blackmail goes both ways."
"Mm-hm," Mal hummed lowly, and Dizzy let out a soft chuckle.
"Ok, I'll just go now," she said quickly, turning sharply on her heel and making to exit out onto the street. Then she straightened with a squeal and turned back around. "Right, before I forget; if you guys ever want some hair color that doesn't smell like sea foam, come by the salon around 11:00 pm. That's when I'm on and I can probably get you a discount as long as you promise to not steal any more of our stuff."
"Wait really?" Evie couldn't help but squeal right back, and even Mal looked relatively excited.
"That's super…nice…of you," she said slowly, and Dizzy flushed and grinned sheepishly.
"I know," she mumbled, before turning and all but skipping back across the border into pirate territory.
"Well Carlos, you've officially been replaced as the cutest member of our gang," Mal deadpanned, the moment the girl had disappeared from view.
Carlos spluttered, looking offended; lifting his right hand in a flat palm and brushing the fingertips of his left hand against it. [Excuse me?]
"Aw, Mal you do have a heart," Evie teased, and Mal blinked, her brow furrowing as she glared at her.
"What gave you the impression otherwise?" she snapped, and Carlos scoffed before paling and falling silent when the glare turned to him.
"You've been acting pretty uh…heartless the past few weeks," Evie continued, a bit delicately.
"No I haven't," Mal protested immediately, and Evie fixed her with a look.
"The Wharf Rats, just the other week?" she reminded. "Sure they started it but I'm almost positive that that one kid still can't move his fingers."
"Oh you mean that one that literally tried to stab me in the back?" Mal retaliated without remorse, and Evie sighed, deciding it wasn't worth it to push that one.
"And before that? When the Huns came and…"
"Don't." Mal snarled, stiffening sharply, eyes lighting again with green.
"Well, we now have their declaration of war to worry about thanks to whatever it is you did to them," Evie continued, diplomatically skirting around the specifics of that encounter. It had left them all with quite a few more scars, though not for lack of retaliation on their part.
"It wasn't war against you they promised," Mal mumbled, so softly that Evie wasn't sure she was meant to have heard.
"Then there's just now…with Link," she finished, and Mal exhaled slowly, her eyes returning to normal, although the tension in her jaw and shoulders remained.
"That was low, wasn't it?" she said, and Evie nodded emphatically.
"Your mom might have done it."
That seemed to strike the other girl as she froze, something like horror in her eyes, her jaw twitching sharply to the left.
"Shit."
Mal drew a sharp breath and cursed again, dropping her head so Evie could no longer read the emotions twisting her face. She stayed that way a few...too long seconds before straightening again, a much more controlled look on her face, though the way she trembled spoke louder than any spoken word.
"I didn't realize it had been that long," she finally managed weakly. "Or that…that I was…that bad."
Carlos shrugged, pointing first to Mal before curling his index finger into an 'X' handshape; he made a firm downwards movement with the crooked finger; before placing his fingers in flat hand against his mouth then moving his hand down and away sharply.
[You should be bad.]
Mal rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a reluctant grin. "Thanks, 'Los. Glad I have your approval to continue my villainous ways."
He made a sweeping, mocking sort of 'hats off' gesture before laughing and dodging her attempts to grab him and ruffle his hair.
"If it'll make you feel better," Evie spoke over the sounds of Mal's victorious cry and Carlos' stifled yelping. "You can always apologize to the Rats, at least."
"What, like in Auradon?" Mal mocked, finally releasing a now breathless Carlos, who immediately slunk behind Evie and attempted to fix his hair. "I hope we never end up there."
"No?" Evie asked, straightening in surprise because of all the things that Mal had done she hadn't been expecting her to renounce that hope. It was a stupid hope and only usually ever said in jest, but there had been moments where they'd wished with some sincerity; for a place where they could be safe. Free.
"Oh Hades no!" Mal cried, still slightly breathless with laughter. "Could you imagine? I'd never get anything done I'd be too busy apologizing to everyone I offended or hurt."
[True.] Carlos signed; placing his index finger against his lips like he was making a 'shush' gesture, then moving it forward in a quick motion.
"Zip it you," Mal snapped, and Carlos lifted his brows almost pointedly. "You know what I mean."
"But you've never hurt anyone you cared about," Evie tried, still unsure what the shift in attitude was. "So as long as you stayed with us, you'd be fine in Auradon."
"Don't count your dead, E." Mal's voice shifted so suddenly in tone that Evie flinched, and even Carlos looked worried.
"What?"
Mal blinked, and the dark look on her face lightened a little too quickly to be authentic, her fingers rubbing at her shoulder; at the place the Hun leader has pinned her with spear in his attempt to kill her.
"Nothing. Just a saying." Mal shook her head and grinned, and it was the kind of feral glee that Evie grown to associate with the times Mal wanted to hide her feelings with destruction. "Now come on, let's see what we can salvage from the hideout and start working on making the sea urchins that did it pay."
Mal
There's a hand on her arm and in seconds she's jabbed her elbow back as hard as she can and freed the letter opener from her belt, spun and lashed out before there was time to think.
"Woah-kay that's sharp," her attacker says, and a part of her brain says familiar, safe? and the other roars danger, alleyways, trapped, pain, death and she stabs again.
"Easy," and "No," and "Woah," and "Hey," interject their way through each of her attacks, and she knows she's being sloppy about it because the person who'd grabbed her was dodging them enough to talk, and hadn't immediately dropped to the ground when she'd first swung.
As she's processing the fact that her shoes are squeaking beneath her feet (and the fact that has shoes on her feet and that there is a floor to squeak against instead of dirt), she hears:
"Ok, stopping this now"
and feels a firm pressure around her wrists, a short, twisting motion that sends her blade to the floor along with her stomach because she doesn't have a weapon and she's vulnerable and-
"Got to say, I'm impressed you still have a knife since I thought we took them all. But I guess that'll teach me to underestimate a VK…again."
And she's in Auradon, and blinking up at a slightly sweaty and not-quite-as-ruffled-as-he-should-have-been Aziz, who was blinking right back at her as if he didn't quite know what to do with himself.
"What do want faggot?"
Aziz, for his part doesn't flinch, but both eyebrows go up even as his mouth curls sharply down.
"Um."
"Sorry," she blurts instantly and means it (since when does she mean it?), grimacing. "Sorry. Force of habit."
"Uh-huh….See, as much as I'd love to get into that with you, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."
"Oh so you weren't just ambushing me in an unprotected section of hallway for fun? You actually did want something?"
He blinks at her, and she realizes she'd deflecting again…realizes that she's shaking and it's stupid because he shouldn't even count and yet her instincts keep screaming that she'd been grabbed by a man, and she's still so raw from the Council that every syllable spoken from a deeper pitch of voice has her teetering on edge.
"You ok?"
"Fine." She snaps, then grits her teeth because it's a lie and for some reason she cares about that. "Shut up."
He does, and it's not any better because it's quiet now and quiet never meant anything good on the Isle, and despite his silence she knows he's still there and if she can't hear him she can't see him and this wasn't the Isle this is Auradon but he's still there and she can't…she can't breathe and….
"Hemlock," she blurts instantly, and there's a shuffle of movement but no voice sounds to stop her; no hands reach to pin her down. "I always thought that if I were to kill you, I'd use hemlock. Took me a while to narrow down but it's pretty perfect; paralyzes you, you know? But the rest of you isn't so you get to stay awake as your body just shuts slowly down and all the while you just…can't move. Which I always thought was perfect considering-"
"What happened to Jay," Aziz finishes for her, and she flinches sharply, sucking in a breath too quickly to do anything more than stare at him, bewildered. He stares right back, and it's somehow worse seeing the understanding in his eyes. "And…you?"
"And you're basing that on…what, exactly?"
But she knows exactly what, and the wall at her back does nothing to comfort her; nothing to make any of this better and she wants her crew but they're all scattered throughout the school and she feels like she's the one who's swallowed hemlock.
"Um, well. I'd say something cocky like 'word on the street' or whatever, but uh…I don't think that would really help here so…."
"You Auradonians really love using that word," she mutters, staring at his hands, which twist around themselves in a never-ending loop of anxiety. "But you never like to actually do anything."
"Um, would…would you like me to do anything?" he says, and she looks up at the strange note to his voice. "Right now, I mean," he continues. "What…what helps? And I know, I know…but you're still kinda…shaking? And if it's me I just want to know so I can actually do something."
"Aziz."
"Hm?"
"Shut up."
He starts to reply, but then thinks better of it and sheepishly falls silent, even backing away a couple steps and it's that added gesture- the added thought, really; no one in Auradon ever thought- that breaks through enough to actually do something. He must take some cue from her, though she doesn't even know when she made it, only that she's leaning against the wall now and he's a step closer and arsenic, hemlock, strychnine, nightshade but she doesn't really think she needs any of them right now.
"So...I guess first off sorry for grabbing you like that," Aziz says, shuffling a foot and burying his hands in his pockets. "I didn't think…."
He grimaces, eyes flickering to her as if to gauge her reaction, and it's both a comfort and an annoyance, and she presses her back more firmly to the wall and crosses her arms.
"Just get to the point already," she snaps, irritated that her voice still sounds unsteady. She feels unsteady, sure, but that didn't mean she had to advertise it like that. "You want to talk about Jay. And you're gonna have to deal with the disappointment when I tell you that's not gonna happen."
"But is it true what they're saying?" Aziz says, and he's so concerned that she could almost forgive him for pressing. Almost.
"I thought I said…"
"I just want to know if it's me," he insists, and she has a sharper retort on her tongue but he's so sincere that she hesitates instead. "I just want to know if it's me so I can…stay away if I have to. If it'll help."
She laughs, then, and it's probably the last thing he'd been expecting because he stares at her blankly, his eyes wide and oh so genuine and it's somehow hilarious in hindsight that she'd ever thought she'd need hemlock for him.
"Don't be so eager to be a problem, Aziz," she tells him, and he just blinks at her. "You're a gay piece of shit but you are nothing that we can't handle."
"Um…not quite sure if that's the insult or the complement…" he drawls, and she rolls her eyes at him, settling against the wall.
"Let's just say it's Isle speak for you don't have to worry about looking like the shadows of our monsters."
"See, Carlos said something like that too but I can't help but feel like it's not entirely true."
"Carlos told you? Really?" She cocks her head, not wondering so much when but how, because if anything, Carlos could be even more protective of Jay than she was; and if he'd actually made an effort to confront what had been viewed as a threat….
"He said…me and Nikki…he said that we're not like anything on the Isle; but it can't be true because obviously there's something about us that reminds you. That reminds Jay."
He shrugs helplessly, hands still deep in his pockets so his shoulder scrunch up his entire body and he just looks so…small.
"And if that's the case then…we'll stay away, we just…want to help."
"You hero types and all your self-sacrificing bullshit," she mutters, and Aziz chuckles nervously, a hand escaping his pocket to smooth hair that really didn't need smoothing.
"Does that mean that we're ok to hang around?"
"I'll do you one better and say it means that for now I consider you an ally and we'll leave it at that."
"You know, I think you and I have different meanings of the word ally," he replies, and she lifts a brow.
"And what's your definition?"
"Well my definition kind of involves a distinct lack of homophobic slurs and insults, along with some equal level of empathy or understanding?"
"What are you making a request?" Mal scoffs, then realizes that while his tone had been joking, his eyes are somewhat serious, and she frowns, crossing her arms even further.
"I don't really do sentiment," she finally says, and he nods like he gets it, but she thinks she's hurt him, somehow. "If I told you insults were the Isle way of showing affection would you believe it?"
"Probably not," he says, and though his lips twitch a little she knows it's just a front. "I take it that's a no on the less homophobia, then?"
"How 'bout it's an 'I'll try?'" Mal offers, shrugging her shoulders and trying to ignore the voice inside that sounded like her mother.
"Trying's good," Aziz answers, and it's so odd how quickly the hope lights in his eyes. "Trying's how we all start."
"I'm not making any promises," she says pointedly, and he laughs, grinning.
"I wouldn't expect anything less from a VK," he says.
"There, now you're getting it!" She smirks at him, and he's still shaking his head when the bell rings above them and suddenly her stomach is full of poison after all because class is over which means she has to go find Jay and…..
"Will you guys be at dinner?" Aziz asks, and he's back to solemn again just as quickly as she is, picking up on that much, at least.
"Maybe," she says, shuffling her feet and turning to scan the hallway. She sees none of her crew, but she does see the looks exchanged; the curled lips and laughter. "What are they saying?"
Aziz remains quiet beside her, but she knows better than to think it's because he hadn't heard her.
"Aziz," she snaps, refusing to turn her head from the crowds for the same reason. "You asked me if it's true what they're saying…what are they saying about Jay?"
Ben
"How dare you?"
He turns, stomach dropping so sharply at the harshness of the voice that it takes him a moment to register the words themselves. To say that Audrey looks furious would be an understatement; she's practically murderous: her whole body tight and trembling, her usually smooth features so contorted it's only through his intimate knowledge of them that he's able to find her eyes at all. Of course, when he does find her eyes he regrets it; the utter loathing and rage filling him all the more with dread.
"Audrey," he says slowly, but she doesn't give him a chance to do more before she's reached him, and he has the sudden terrified urge to flee in the other direction.
"How dare you!"
She's screaming, and it's only the merciful fact that they were currently alone in the hallway that prevented the whole of Auradon from hearing.
Calm down, he tries to say. Stop screaming. Talk. Talk. Talk
"You dismissed my grandfather from the Council? Do you have any idea, any idea at all, what you've just done?"
"Audrey…"
"No!" She hisses, but even then it's more a shriek than anything so quietly harsh. "Answer me, Ben. Do you have any idea…?"
"Yes."
She flinches, recoiling from him with disgust, and he wishes she would scream at him then; anything but that silent horror.
"Yes, I know what I did. Do you want to know what he did? Or does the fact that he's been constantly undermining me and blatantly disrespecting what little authority I have not matter?"
Oh. Now he's the one who's yelling.
Audrey lets out a high noise of laughter that's the farthest from amused he's ever seen her. She's staring at him like…like she doesn't know him…like he's some pitiful, grotesque thing under her feet.
"You want authority?" she says, practically spitting the word at him. "Grow up and show it. No one's going to hand you respect like it's a goddamned lollipop!"
Pain stabs through his chest and he reels back, half expecting to find a knife buried in his lungs; and then he realizes it's because he can't breathe; and that he's backed against the wall and it's the first time he's felt it so he doesn't even recognize the panic for what it is. Audrey's lips twitch on one side: a horrific, mocking smile that he almost wants to take some kind of violent action against because it's not fair and how can she do this to him so easily, so ruthlessly?
"And you stand there and stare like a helpless child and wonder why no one takes you seriously," she says, and she must be quiet now because he can hear his heart try and force its way out of his body and he wouldn't be able to do that if she was still screaming.
"Are you done now?" He doesn't know how he's talking, but he is, and her eyes flicker like she's surprised but that horrible look is still on her face and he doesn't know what he did to put it there. "Can I talk?"
She doesn't say anything, just crosses her arms, and usually a gesture like that might mean she's feeling defensive; but the way she does it just further signifies her defiance and his lungs give another stab to remind him that breathing was a voluntary action that he had to take.
"I wasn't going to stand there and let him disrespect me," he says slowly, not because he wanted to take any particular care with his words, but because if he goes any faster it will take away from breathing. He needs to breathe. "I'm sick and tired of being walked all over and treated like I don't have feelings; like I'm not allowed to have feelings and that I have to be this perfect ruler."
He takes another breath and blinks, and suddenly everything is in focus again and he realizes that Audrey is crying almost as hard as he is.
"Well guess what," he chokes, and she won't look at him now and he hates it. "I have them, I feel them. And I'm not going to keep playing docile and take that from anyone. Not him. And not you."
She flinches, lifting her head, but only to turn it to the side, her arms tightening even further, and he realizes what it means with painful clarity.
"You- you've already set your mind about something. Haven't you?"
Her chin lifts. Her lips press together, the little dimple in her cheek that he'd always loved poke his finger into to tease her when they'd been tiny (and even now that they're grown) standing out in stark contrast to the atmosphere.
"Only that you won't need to worry about settling the matter because my family is already taking the necessary steps to detach the kingdom of Aurorae from the United Kingdoms of Auradon."
She says it all in a detached tone, and while a part of him wants to break and hysterically laugh at his own unintended pun, instead he says:
"So is this a declaration of war, or a break up?"
She bites her lower lip, still not looking at him, and he realizes just how long it's been since he's kissed her. There was no point in rectifying that now, and yet he can't resist the sudden overwhelming urge to do just that; just sweep her entirely off her feet or even scandalously switch their positions and back her against the wall- to just kiss her hard enough to make all their words nonexistent. To make the two of them last.
"It's a declaration of a break," she says at last, and it's so diplomatic and formal that he can't stand it. Then he realizes it's because he actually can't stand, and he presses himself further against the wall to at least pretend. Then he wonders if he'd only ever just been pretending with her, but it hurts too much to entertain even as a passing thought.
"Is this the kind of break that entails 'friends but not really' and us seeing other people, or the kind that involves the whole 'it's not me it's you' bit?"
Audrey drops her chin at that, but then she's looking at him in the next second; so suddenly and so intensely that he's grateful it's a wall at his back because if there'd been open space he's almost certain she'd have pushed him into it.
"Did you stop and think, while you were so absorbed in your own hurt feelings, what your little tantrum means for Aurorae? For my family? My family, Ben! Did every think about what this means to them?"
She's nearly crying again now, but it's anger in her trembling voice; pain in the press of her lips and the twitch of the dimpled and unamused cheek; betrayal ringing in her every word.
"It's true you know, that coming back from a hundred years of negligence isn't something that can just happen overnight. Do you know how close we actually came to dying out? Close enough that when a chance came to join with a greater power there wasn't a question about it. Only how soon, and if it meant solidifying it all with casting the demon that did it to us onto an island prison and making a desperate bid for a betrothal then here, our bags are already packed."
"Is that all it was, then?" why was he crying? why was he surprised? he'd known this all along, after all. "Is that what I am to you? Just a political move?"
She clenches her jaw then, and he's clenching his fists because he knows exactly what she's going to say.
"No," she says carefully, and his blood runs colder with each syllable. "You were the naïve hero who thought that all your problems could be solved with a shield instead of a sword, and I needed that. Needed someone to pull me out of that world of and remind me of the other ones that exist…. Instead you just reminded me why I chose politics to begin with."
She leaves him there outside the board room door, not even looking back, and the only thing he can think is that he might not have been good at politics; but he wouldn't ever want to be, not if this is what it means. Yet Audrey's tears and the echo of her sobs still ring in his ears; and the door is still in front of him with all those people behind it; more people he had to face; more people to tell him all the ways in which he failed them; how he wasn't what they needed him to be. And then all the words he'd left unspoken come flooding into his thoughts and he's screaming them down the empty hall and his voice is too hoarse and too broken to make it very far but he's not holding back; can't hold back; can't be over….
"You can't expect me to break myself into a thousand pieces to try and make you happy! The kind of ruler I am is based on who I decide I want to be…the kind of person I want to be and it's not fair of you…you can't pin your problems on me like that, Audrey, it's not…it's not fair!"
It's not fair and it can't be over he doesn't want it to be over like this…and yet it's still not over and he suddenly can't be in that hallway for another second. Not with the clicking echo of Audrey's heels or the heat in his face that makes him wonder if she'd struck him; but the pain tears through his chest alone and he's wishing for physical violence because to attack with words like that just wasn't fair.
Ben forces himself to his feet (when had he fallen, why was he still crying get it together damnit!) and barely manages to adjust his hair (adjust his face adjust his everything it's your own fault not good enough have to adjust) before he staggers into the board room and clutches at the podium in the front.
The first thing he's aware of when he dares to open his eyes is the distinct lack of King Stefan's presence and while it's relief that his main source of torment is gone; it's followed by a sick pit of dread because his absence also means the absence of Queen Leila; of Phillip and Aurora…of Audrey. And he almost thinks he will be sick because how could she do that to him and how could he be what he's not and why was it his fault but it was his fault and how can he be expected to fix all the other mistakes with the kingdom when he can't even fix his own?
He grips the podium and imagines he hears it splinter in his fingers before realizing it was creaking a little, and he forces himself to straighten and move away from it (don't be weak don't be a child, Ben, if you want respect….), lifts his head and opens his eyes (and he really need to stop closing them.)
The second thing he's aware of, when he's wrenched himself enough out of himself to be aware, is the sheer amount of staring eyes on him from the remaining assembled royals and all he can think is why can't they leave him alone?
"What now?" he sighs, and he knows it's more of a whine; knows that he's slumped down against the podium at the front.
But right now it's the only thing keeping him upright; keeping him from throwing it all away, the crown, the kingdom…he wants no part of this broken, messed up thing he's inherited. There's an uncertain ripple of murmurs and coughing, and he barely manages to lift his head to give a weak glare in their general direction.
"I know," he snaps, or he would have snapped if he weren't so tired. "But I'm just so done with all the pretense so why don't we just skip it all and get right down to where you tell me what you think of me."
"Oh, well if you're giving us permission this time."
An all too eager voice rings out, and Ben isn't sure if he wants to laugh or give in and sink to the floor and scream because of course it's Aladdin who's standing; rubbing his hands together and beaming like he's just been handed another magic lamp.
"Aladdin!" Jasmine hisses, but Ben just tries to keep lifting his head and making eye contact as the man just shrugs a shoulder, his hands dropping to fold neatly in front of his body.
"Nope, it's my turn to talk now and in the thread of brutal honesty it's only fair to say that I think with all the pressure that's been placed on you you're doing a better job at handling all of this than I ever could. And also I never liked that old maeiz (goat) anyway so no hard feelings over Stefan."
The man makes a face, and it's most likely meant to be teasing, but Ben feels his knees buckle and he's not sure if it's the words or everything behind them, but he's on the floor now; his back against the podium and legs sprawled out in front of him.
"What?" he croaks out, ignoring the cries of alarm and concern because they hurt and he really doesn't want to figure out if they're fake or not.
"There were some things that were said this afternoon that…hit us all hard," Aladdin continues slowly, lowering himself not back into his seat, but to his knees. "True things…very true…made us remember."
Ben lifts his head (when had he dropped it?) to realize that all the royals were lower as well; either crouching or kneeling or at least sitting somewhat less dignified in their chairs. Humble? Is that the word…the concept behind it?
"Remember?" he repeats, not sure what that look on Snow White's face is but also not entirely sure he likes it.
"Our childhoods," Cinderella answers, her voice soft and all too knowing as she looks at him. "The fact that we were all children and that instead of facing what happened to us and what we went through we took the shiny crowns they offered us and banished it all to a place even we couldn't reach."
"Except now it's reached us," Anita whispers. "And it terrifies us because we don't know how to deal with it. We never dealt with it."
Roger sniffs beside her, but is quiet…ashamed?
"We don't hate the children you brought to us, Ben," Snow White's Prince (his namesake), Florian says, and though the man hadn't lowered himself to the floor, he was at least leaning down in his chair, a heaviness in his eyes that match his voice. "We fear the villains that we never dealt with; the things that we went through back to haunt us in another form."
"You…you have nothing to fear from them," Ben manages shakily, sitting up just a little further against the podium. "They…they fear you, and I'm not entirely sure they're wrong to think that all things considered."
A shift in the room tells him that the other royals too have adjusted, and now sit or kneel in further upright positions. He frowns, and a fleeting thought occurs to him and on a whim he reaches up and removes his crown, placing it on the carpet beside him. Some, like Aladdin; like Naveen; like Ariel; like the Charming's- are quick to casually do the same: either cocking their crowns in a less formal position or removing it entirely; and while some other don't have crowns to remove, they unzip jackets or unbutton cloaks (remove some padded bits of armor in the case of Mulan and Shang) - further humbling themselves, yes, but also….following his lead?
"You're-you're…following my lead," Ben expresses the revelation aloud, and there's a reddening of faces and nervous coughing and guilty, embarrassed expressions.
"Well, you are our Prince," Aladdin is the one to say it, and Ben can tell the others are relieved to not have that burden. "And it's only fair we try and do it now when we've…been kind of terrible to you about it before."
"Kind of?" he mutters, and there's an even larger range of red faces and shame.
"We're sorry," Aladdin continues firmly, glaring around the room, and it's only in following the man's gaze that Ben can see that while a majority had followed there are still those who hadn't; who are normal faced, or pale and stoic- unrepentant- and he nearly regrets sitting up in the first place. "It was more than just not fair of us to put all of that on you and we -or at least I- want to try and do what can be done to correct that."
"Like an actual Council?" Ben thinks that the trace of bitterness he feels is justified there, but the thin press of Prince Eric's lips before he answers that tells him that the other royal hadn't appreciated it as such.
"Yes," the man says, however, combing a hand through short, dark hair. "An actual Council, that seeks to fix the problems we face."
"You mean the problems you created?" Ben retorts, and he realizes he's back to standing; that he's being defensive now, but he can't help it. Can't trust it…not after all that Audrey just said.
Charming smirks at him, at least, and Cinderella ducks her head beside him, though Ben can see that it's only to hide her own amused look. He doesn't know if it's more of a comfort or an insult to know that they support him so wholeheartedly, but he'll take it at this point. Something genuine.
"We want to fix the problems," Tiana says firmly, arms crossed over her green cloak, coiled braids now freed from their crown splitting her face into an eerie mask of stern determination. "I think that should be the point, and not just placing and shifting blame."
"Right." Ben coughs, a bit ashamed himself now. He stares pensively at his crown and picks it up, but he hesitates a moment to lift it. If he puts it back on again, did that just mean he was inviting all of it back? They were on his side now (for now, he doesn't doubt that) but there was no guarantee…if he puts it on again and fails….
He chances a glance back up and there's an overwhelming range of equally determined and slightly abashed faces staring back at him, and he feels a strange tightness in his throat; a surge of something in his chest that he doesn't want to identify. Too afraid to call it hope. But the looks on their faces tell him that in this moment, they feel the same way he does, and he can work with that.
"So," he says, lifting the crown; lifting the burden; lifting the problem- and placing it on his head. "To fixing the problems?"
"To fixing the problems."
It's a near unanimous chorus of voices, of raised crowns and hands, and he can work with this. He will work with this. Never mind the silent voices; the crowns that hadn't been lifted. Right now, he knows what needs to be done.
"In that case," he says, straightening and settling the crown back on his head. "Let's start with this…."
Carlos
The museum, as it turned out, was incredibly easy to find and actually didn't take much navigating on their part. There were conveniently lit road signs everywhere, marking down the miles to go and which turns to take, and Carlos was sure they'd all have laughed about it and what it said about Auradon (what it said about them), except they were too busy trying to keep Jay from blowing their cover. The older boy hadn't 'broken' down so much as shut down, and Mal was on the verge of something equally violent and terrible, and so the journey had mostly consisted of Carlos nudging and sometimes shoving Jay along the streets, while Evie muttered bits of gossip to Mal in an attempt to keep the other girl from exploding. Carlos wasn't so sure it would work; any of it. How were they supposed to accomplish anything like this? How were they supposed to live up to their parents' expectations of them (to Auradon's expectations of them) when they were barely living to begin with?
Ahead of them, Mal snaps her fingers, and Carlos freezes in place and only just manages to grab Jay's sleeve to keep him at his side. He tries not to think too hard on the way Jay flinches at even that slight contact, but the other boy's eyes are clear at least, even if he is glaring at Carlos.
"What are you grabbing at me for?" he snaps, and Carlos presses his lips tightly together and drops his eyes as he signs; touching the tips of his fingers to his temple in a flat palm before twisting his hand away; then touching the tip of his pinky finger to his cheek before pointing at Jay and fingerspelling 'O' 'K.'
[I wasn't sure if you were ok.]
"I'm fine," Jay growls, but the set of his jaw isn't right, his eyes flickering. "Don't touch me again."
[Fine.] Carlos signs in agreement, tapping his thumb to his chest in a 'five' handshape, eyes wide in what he hopes conveys his innocent intentions.
"If you're done acting like children," Mal actually growls in front of them. "Why don't you figure out how to get inside the building?"
Carlos looks up and realizes that they're just outside the Auradon Museum of History, and as he's marveling at just how huge the place was (he's fairly certain it could fit the whole of the Isle inside if they really packed in tight), Jay stiffens beside him.
"'Wonder if he's as soft inside as he looks on the outside?"
"What did you just say?"
Carlos cringes back as Mal turns on Jay because while her voice spits fire and fury, her eyes flash fear and her jaw twitches defeat and he can't be the only stable one of the group right, he just can't.
"I didn't say anything," Jay says, blinking at her, but his voice doesn't sound right and there's panic lingering in the back of his eyes.
Mal stops short and stares a moment, and Carlos doesn't want to think about what that look in her eyes means. She brings her hands up to tug at her hair, jaw tight in a grimace and shakes her head, and Evie starts to shrink behind her; no doubt internalizing the obvious frustration radiating out from Mal in an almost visible wave.
"Fuck," she hisses sharply, and Jay squirms his shoulders like he's in pain, and Carlos cringes back even further, his jacket starting to swallow him. "Shit, we can't…This isn't going to work, why didn't… Carlos! Why didn't you tell me this wasn't going to work?"
"Mal," Evie tries to scold, but Carlos scowls and signs fiercely; bringing his hand into a flat 'B' handshape, forcefully closing it into a tight fist.
[Bull shit!]
Mal's eyes light with green but for once he stands his ground because he had tried to tell her, or at least sign, that trying this now- right after everything with the Council, was a bad idea. But Mal was never the type to sit still when something was bother her…if she was able to, she would fuel that into creating a bigger blaze than the one she stood on.
"It'll work just fine," Jay snaps, and he's not squirming anymore but his teeth flash in a grimace that does nothing but prove Carlos' own point. "We're not actually doing anything, just seeing where it is, and if we stay out here any longer it's gonna get sketchy and I don't do sketchy."
"You're the definition of sketchy," Evie mumbles, but Carlos is the only one who hears, or at least, the only one who acknowledges it.
He signs again, pointing first to himself and then the others before sliding his thumb forward along the underside of his chin sharply; ending with a sweeping forward motion with both hands.
[We're not going!]
"We?" Mal repeats, brow lifting incredulously, and Carlos realizes, as she surely must be, that this is the first time they'd ever unanimously and openly disagreed her like this.
But he continues anyway; shaking his head in negative as he makes flat hand shapes, palms up and fingers splayed slightly. He starts to pull his hands towards himself, curling his fingers in a 'give me' kind of gesture, before twisting his hands outwards instead.
[We don't want this.]
"Well that's just too bad isn't it? You don't want this? We've all had to do things we didn't want to; that's how life works."
"Maybe," Evie interjects quietly, just barely making the needed eye contact to be a direct challenge. "But it's not how we work."
"It's how we work now," Mal snaps, eyes green and flames curling her fingers just as vicious as the snarl curling her lips. "If this is what it takes then this it what it takes but I am not leaving until we've found that wand. So we are all going in, and I honestly don't give a shit if it's what you want. That...is an order."
"Yeah," Jay mutters, body and jaw tight with resistant even as he walks forward. "Yeah it fucking is."
"Carlos?"
He flinches, and there's a flicker in Mal's eyes that's not enough to lessen his fear, or the flames.
"Get us in."
He nods, because it's the only thing he can do. The only thing he's allowed to do, really. Jay curses, but sneaks to a side window and checks it, and the instant he's deemed it clear, Carlos works to disengage the frame. He hears Evie whisper some protest behind him, but it's stopped abruptly before it can finish, and he doesn't dare turn his head from his work to find out. Doesn't want to know. The window pops a moment later, and Jay eases it to the grass and leaps in first, disappearing into the dark.
"Are we in?" Mal snarls, and Carlos whimpers and cringes out of her way as she stomps up to the window.
Jay returns, expression a solid grimace, but he nods once and in seconds she's up and over the sill.
"In as far as we can be, anyway," Jay answers, and helps Carlos and Evie in after her.
Mal barely waits until their feet have touched the floor before taking off in the direction Jay had initially gone, her hair sending dim sparks cascading to the floor.
"What are you waiting for? Move."
The three of them exchange looks, and the grimace on Jay's face hardens further as he sets off.
"Obligatory that's what she said," he mumbles, and Evie just sighs and ties her hair up before following after.
No one else has a bad feeling about this?
Carlos thinks, whimpering to himself as he obediently scrambles along behind. This wasn't going to end well, but not just because of the circumstances. It wasn't going to end well because right now that wasn't Mal leading them equally and fearlessly into a mission, it was Maleficent. And she was driving them all ruthlessly towards their doom.
Mal
They're lying on the roof of one of the Hun warehouses, watching the barrier change color for the night. Mal was betting they'll make it orange (it's always orange, a gross, muddy color that glows just enough to let you know where it is and nothing more. Auradon couldn't let them have too much fun could they) Daisha insisted they'll make it yellow or something equally bright and horrific. They're a disconnected pile of limbs; Mal not quite tucked into Daisha's side, but close enough that the other girl could still sneak past her guard to run her fingers teasingly along Mal's body when she wasn't paying attention: down her spine; across her shoulders; once (and only once) being bold enough to snake a hand up her leg. Mal had nearly shoved her off the roof for that, and Daisha had more or less been content to sit and stare at the barrier in silence.
When the darkness finally sinks into the full, depressing gloom of night, Mal crowed smugly when the barrier lightened to its usual, mud orange glow.
"I should have put money on it," she jeered haughtily, grinning down at Daisha to see the other girl staring up at her with her own smug smile, her eyes brighter under the barrier's unnatural glow. "What?"
"Nothing," Daisha shook her head, her arms crossed beneath it. "Just enjoying the view."
"Yeah, it's breathtaking," Mal scoffed, rolling her eyes and drawing one leg up to her chest. "I love the orange, really brings out the rot in the..."
"Wasn't talking about the barrier."
She whipped her head back around sharply to find Daisha staring up at her, a lazy sort of smile playing at her lips and an odd look of something like wonder in her eyes. Mal gaped a moment, own mouth falling slack in disbelief before she shakes her head, turning back to face the barrier again before she did something stupid.
"You're so weird," she said, her throat strangely tight as it spoke the words.
"Thanks."
"That wasn't a complement," Mal muttered back, face flushing in spite of herself. "And you really need to stop doing that."
"What? Complementing you?"
"Yes!" Mal snapped hotly, tugging her leg out of Daisha's reach as the other girl reached for it again. "This isn't Auradon!"
"Wait, really?" Daisha gasped, sitting up sharply with wide eyes. "That must be why there aren't any singing princesses around! I was wondering..."
"Daisha."
"Mal."
Mal shivered as the other girl mirrored her dark tone, her eyes unreadable in her suddenly stony face.
"We...we've talked about this," Mal tried, and Daisha barked a laugh without humor, the sound harsh and amplified with their height.
"No, we haven't done shit," she said, her voice almost as low a growl as her father's. "I've just acted while you pull away."
Almost to emphasis her point, Daisha trailed idle fingers along Mal's hip, earning a sharp flinch backwards and a growled curse of warning. The girl's lips twisted in a cruel imitation of a smile as she pulled her hand back to her side. "Every. Time."
"Are you trying to make me feel sympathetic?" Mal snarled, if only to cover the tremble in her limbs; the burn of bile in her throat. "You knew going in to...whatever...this...is...you knew that I didn't...that I couldn't..."
"Yeah well, just because you've experienced the worst the Isle has to offer doesn't mean that I have to be the one to pay for it."
It's not like a knife to the back, because she'd known it was coming, but the blow is painful and unexpected nonetheless.
Daisha sighed, a short, tight release of breath that just as easily could have been a laugh if it had a little more malice behind it.
"I didn't mean to say that."
"Is that your version of an apology?" Mal spat back, her throat tightening further and turning her words into an effective hiss. "Or are you trying to tell me that you didn't mean it, because that's just a cheap way out. You always mean it, that's why I- it's one of the things I..."
"Yes I meant it," Daisha said lowly, eyes dark and unreadable as they pierce into Mal's own. "I don't regret the words, just that I spoke them."
"And here I was thinking you were just making up excuses to get in my pants," Mal growled, turning away so her emotions couldn't be seen on her face.
"I regret it," Daisha continued, her voice dark and firm. "Because now you're hurt. And...I don't like that."
"Yeah, sure you don't," Mal muttered traitorously under her breath, both knees up to her chest now serving to muffle her voice, though not, unfortunately, muffle the pain.
"You know you're not the only one who's dealt with the horrible people on the Isle," the other girl snapped, and something in her voice made Mal look over on spite of herself, to be met with a bitter scoff. "Why do you think I'm always covering my face?"
She hadn't thought anything of it, but when it's drawn to her attention that way, now Mal was able to notice and reflect on the hooded mask the other girl always wore. Sometimes the hood would be lowered, but almost always arranged in such a way to conceal a portion of her face. She tugged the hood down completely now, and in the sickening glow of the barrier Mal could just make out a series of slashes running from just beneath the girl's eye to the edge of her jaw, in the distinct, unmistakable shape of claw marks.
"Shere Kahn," Daisha said, in response to Mal's uncertain look. "He likes to hunt in the deeper warehouses, it's like a new kind of jungle for him. He's always super pissed since Auradon took his claws, so he went and made some new ones for himself with our weapons. So guess who got to go track them down? Turns out that thing they say about not yanking tiger's tails is very true."
"Guess someone wasn't paying attention in class." Mal's voice broke halfway through the words, turning what might have been a lightheaded quip into something strained and hoarse.
"Almost lost the eye...that's what they told me at least."
"What, you don't know?" Mal mumbled, only half mocking, giving in to the tug of conversation and turning her body just enough to let the other girl know she was paying attention.
"Nah," Daisha drawled, tilting her head so the barrier reflected gruesomely off the wrinkled scar tissue near her right eye. "Was a little too busy screaming my way through the infection to notice anything else. They ended up having to tie me to the bed so I wouldn't claw the rest of my face off."
"That...sounds fun," Mal managed weakly, and Daisha's lips twitched without fully cracking her stoic expression as she lifted her hood once more.
"Oh yeah, it was. Sixteen year old me wasn't anywhere near as deadly and confident as I am these days."
"Ha," Mal deadpanned, before starting suddenly. "Wait...six- how...how old are you?"
"You're asking me this now?" Daisha replied, lifting a brow instead of answering.
"It's a valid question," Mal sniped back, her stomach churning again.
"It is," Daisha agreed, but her voice was back to that low rumble, and Mal couldn't see her face. "But not in this situation...not when you think that the answer means that this is just another power dynamic."
"Isn't it?"
"Now who's saying things they didn't mean to say?"
"That's not an answer. Or fair," Mal said, and even she couldn't quite tell if it was accusation or statement.
Daisha's eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened again they were no more readable, even with the barrier darkening the gold reflecting in them.
"Of course I'm older than you," she said softly, her voice shifting to something nearly a rumble, almost a croon. "My father was labelled the villain of his story long before you were even hatched, little dragon."
She must have seen the unamused look Mal shot her, because she sighed again, her smile strained.
"I'm eighteen, and you're going to turn sixteen eventually so I'd say you have nothing to worry about. But as I'm finding out that may not entirely be true."
It was a low blow, an attempt to get some kind of rise from her, but Mal knew that if she did that she might as well concede her defeat and she'd rather throw herself off the roof than do that.
"Is that what you think of me then?" The words were like chalk on her tongue, wringing the air from her lungs. "I shouldn't be surprised, I mean...I'm just a stupid child who's too weak and insecure…couldn't even fight off one pervert, never mind the fact that he was drunk and-"
*smack*
The sting of the actual blow registered before the fact that it had come from the girl beside her, but even before Mal could think to protest, Daisha was stealing her cry with a kiss. It wasn't overly deep or anything quite so sentimental, but it was more than enough to leave Mal entirely breathless when the other girl finally pulled away, gold eyes blazing with silent fury.
"First of all, you are not weak, not for that and if I hear anything like that out of your mouth again I will not hesitate to hit you again. And second, if I really wanted, I could just take what I want from you; and we both know I could."
The words directly contrast the odd sincerity of the kiss, and Mal felt a cold shudder work its way down her back at them; at the sudden intensity with which the other girl had said them. It was a truth that was almost always in the back of her mind, but to hear it spoken so blatantly like that took over what little part of her brain was still rational enough to notice the emptiness of the threat; the almost foreign warmth in the other girl's eyes that she didn't dare to meet.
"But I said it before and I'll say it again: I'm not expecting anything from you…what I said earlier notwithstanding," Daisha continued softly. "Yes, it would be nice, but it's up to you. If you don't want me like that it's no skin off my back. I mean, I survived being mauled by a former tiger I think I can manage-"
"I do want," Mal blurted before her brain caught up to what her mouth was saying, her head lifting sharply from her knees.
Daisha blinked, and Mal could feel her face flushing again and quickly dropped her head again, fingers curling into her knees as she gripped them tightly.
"You. Like...like that," she mumbled shakily, the admission feeling like a betrayal, her insides twisting in panic. "It was never that I didn't...want you...I just...I can't-"
"And that's ok," Daisha whispered fiercely, and Mal blinked as she registered the warmth of the other girl's body, her hands gentle as they cup her head again.
But Mal shook her head sharply, effectively pulling away (again- why couldn't she just..?) because it wasn't ok. The other girl's words from before rang harshly in her mind, reminding her in no uncertain terms that it wasn't ok for Mal to just refuse….
As if reading her thoughts, Daisha's lips pursed, her brow furrowing and darkening her eyes. "It is, really," she murmured gently, her hands fidgeting in her lap in place of reaching for Mal again. "What I said was cruel and it wasn't fair of me to try and put that on you."
"Are you saying sorry now?" Mal choked out, if only to pretend that she wasn't affected by…everything about the other girl.
Daisha grinned slyly, eyes still warm and knowing as her fingers moved to brush a few strands of pale purple hair out of her face.
"Only if you say that you forgive me," she murmured, and though it might have just been another ploy at flirting, there was also something terrifyingly earnest in her eyes that made Mal's heart jerk uncomfortably in her chest.
"I'll do you one better," she finally said, letting what was hopefully an equally earnest smile creep onto her face. "And say that I've already forgotten it instead."
"Ha," Daisha laughed shortly, eyes bright enough that Mal could see the open relief in them. "Must be one of those 'other side of the Isle' things. Do I need to say anything special back?"
"Not really, no," Mal answered, suddenly unable to make eye contact. "But I uh...I did want to try something."
"Oh?" Daisha straightened, legs crossing beneath her. It was far too open a position, but before Mal could let herself think too much of it, she closed the gap between them, one hand on the other girl's knee for support while the other somehow managed to tangle itself in her hair. For a second, the other girl was entirely still, and Mal had just begun to regret her decidedly bold action when she felt Daisha move to meet her.
It wasn't quite like their first kiss had been, or, even, like the few that had followed after. There was something raw, and almost desperate about the way Daisha kissed her, as if she were trying to get as much of Mal as she could while she could; a sort of pressing urge for more in the way her hands came up, not to cup her face, but to slip beneath the hem of Mal's shirt...
She pulled away instantly, her body recoiling even as her own fingers fumbled blindly for a weapon.
"Easy." Daisha's hands closed firmly around her own, arresting her movement and keeping her from drawing her knife. "You kissed me."
"I'm sorry," Mal blurted, face painfully hot as she jerkily freed her hands.
"I'm not," Daisha said, and though her voice was still low, it wasn't accusing as Mal was certain it should be. "You actually kissed me that time."
"I thought I could," Mal whispered, her heart still trying to claw its way into her throat despite the obvious delight in the other girl's voice. "I wanted...I wanted to try..."
"And you did," Daisha said, in what might have been an encouraging tone but to Mal only sounded condescending.
"You don't understand!" she burst out sharply, chest heaving sickeningly with a breathy sob. "I have to at least try to...I owe it to you to try."
"Owe me?" In the mud orange light of the barrier she can see the brow lift on Daisha's face.
"For Carlos," Mal muttered grudgingly, back to clinging to her knees like the coward she was.
Daisha barked a short laugh that did nothing to put her at ease. "You owe my father for Carlos," she said lightly, like that in itself was any better. "But you don't owe me anything that you don't want to give, little dragon."
"But-" Mal tried, and Daisha's eyes flashed, that familiar gold making its appearance as her features drew down into a scowl.
"No," she all but snarled, that particular Hun ferocity sharp in her voice. "Willingly or not at all. That's how this works."
She started to push back; to insist that such an idea was not only unheard of but impractical. That if that was what was wanted then her own feelings didn't matter and it was up to Mal to make Daisha to see that. That it wouldn't be the first time and that Mal really had no place to try and dictate the pace, or lack of pace in this odd and twisted game at a relationship they were playing. That this concept of required agreement on her part just didn't exist on the Isle; it wasn't a matter of sides it just didn't exist.
"One more word out of your mouth and I'll chuck you off this roof and don't you think I won't," Daisha said, and Mal couldn't help the rueful chuckle that escaped her at that.
"You'd rather risk my death than my discomfort?" She asked, and though Daisha's mouth smiled, her eyes were still strangely solemn.
"We both know it'd be more than just discomfort," she said softly. "But in answer to your question, yes, I'd risk it, because first off this roof isn't nearly high enough to kill you and second, I care about you too much to let myself be the one to hurt you like that. Again."
"I-" Mal blinked, and was startled at how hoarse she sounded, at the wetness pooling between her eyelashes. No one had ever come close to saying that they cared about her; about what they could do for her, maybe. What worth they had. And always, always what she could do for them. What worth she had. But to hear Daisha say that she cared about Mal as a person with actual wants and needs and fears and regrets…she didn't know exactly whether to laugh or just keep crying.
"Oh shut up, you don't have to say anything," Daisha chided gently, her own face significantly less pale as she casually brushed the tears away with the side of her palm. "Just sit and watch the barrier with me."
"Ok," Mal managed, that warm feeling back in her chest, an odd sense of security and…happiness? as she moved to do as she was told.
"Yeah?" Daisha said, almost as if affirming, and it was then that Mal noted the distance the other girl had put between them and that just wasn't ok.
"Yeah," she repeated, feeling vaguely more confident as she settled back down on the roof. "But…do you think…could you…hold me?"
"Yeah." The look that Daisha gave her was brighter than anything the barrier could have come up with. "I think I can manage that."
And just for that moment, Mal didn't think she needed Auradon to make everything go right for her.