Disclaimer: I do not own Descendants!
Love Is A Song That Never Ends
~Come my love, I'll tell you a tale~
It's hard to say for sure if his father tolerated him and his siblings because they were blood.
Captain James Hook hated children.
And that was fine because they had Smee ( Smee, the first mate, who's been with his father since the beginning), and the rest of the Jolly Roger crew. The crew taught him and his siblings how to use a sword, sea shanties, to fish. Tie rope, hoist the sail, what the air will smell like before rain, the feel of a coming storm. To intimidate, to read, and write. Most came from all over and told of adventures from Before.
It's hard to say for sure if his father tolerated him and his siblings because they were blood. Captain James Hook hated children.
And that was fine.
But sometimes. Harry will remember sitting on the deck with his older sister, listening to his father talk of before the Isle, before Neverland. Or sometimes the gleam of his hook in low candlelight will remind of him of the gleam of his father's eyes, clear, and something other than scorn as he gave his son his favorite hook; after catching him looking at them through the glass case his father had managed to save. Or the deep chuckle and look of pride when he presented the first pirate hat he won in a game with one of the crewmates. He'll remember hands, rough, but firm and near gentle as they instructed him in the art of "good form."
(And Harry wanted.)
~.~
Harry can't honestly say if the crazy was something he had from birth, or the Isle just did that to a person. All he knew was that crazy kept people distant, crazy, resulted in wary eyes, and second thoughts.
Crazy kept you safe.
~.~
Harry's earliest memory will be tiny, and quiet.
Though the docks were his father's and Ursula's shared territory, it's Carlos he met first, three months before he meets Uma. Ten years old, he's absently tying a bit of rope he had found while he waited for his sister on deck when Cruella came abroad.
The woman wore a surprisingly well-kept fur coat, is thin, and shrilly voiced, making him and others on deck wince. They were all the more glad when she disappeared into Hook's quarters, with her gone, he went back to his rope.
It took him a moment to realize he was being watched, mostly, his hands were being watched.
It's a boy, tiny, and alarmingly quiet since Harry hadn't noticed him tucked away in a corner, brown eyes before they disappear under black and white hair when the boy bowed his head upon noticing Harry had seen him looking.
Shrugging, he went back to his rope, well aware of the burning gaze as he twisted, tied, and untied; creating different knots. He may have been showing off.
It's only after the other boy averted his eyes a third time does he go over.
"You want to try?" he asked, holding out the rope, he had another in his pocket.
Eyes glance in the direction of where Cruella had disappeared to, before back to him. There is a slow nod, then Harry is using the second rope in his pocket to show how. Eyes watch his hands, and he's not sure if his instructions are being heard, but then hands, tinier, skinnier, paler than his own are moving. Following his movements almost perfectly, and there it is, a bowline knot.
"Yer really good," Harry said impressed, and a little jealous, it took him weeks to get the thing right.
Still, he needed a crew once he got his ship, and the knot was really good. "Want to be part of my crew?"
The boy's head lifted, startled, surprised.
He doesn't get to answer, because there is a sudden loud slam, the boy jumped and Harry is barely able to take a step back before Cruella shrieking at the other boy to hurry up as she descends off the Jolly Roger.
(He'll meet the boy again at Dragon Hall, the Pup is still tiny, still quiet, and still skilled with his hands. His name was Carlos. His eyes are big and brown in the low light, they looked like the amber whiskey hidden away in Smee's cabin. With freckles that reminded him of the constellations he saw once in his Father's many maps. He wondered if the boy remembered him asking him to be part of his crew, the thought of the boy not remembering left a foul taste in his mouth.)
~.~
Jay stole his pocket watch, so Harry stole the necklace the boy kept around his neck. Harry "borrowed" his beanie, so Jay "borrowed" his hat. Jay took the ink for his eye linear, so Harry took his boots. Harry almost punched out a tooth, Jay nearly broke his nose.
Jay was fun.
Jay didn't flinch away from him, didn't have wary eyes, or second thoughts.
Uma wanted him in her gang.
She told him it's because he's a good thief and extra muscle.
Harry knew it's because it was well-known that Mal and Jay were rivals.
For some reason, Jay becoming Uma's doesn't sit right with him.
(The same way it doesn't sit right with him every time he'll see Evil Queen's daughter with the Pup in the later years).
~.~
Money on the Isle was about as useful as dirt. Food, canned food, nonperishables were the most valuable, followed by clothes, and medicine. All which was hard to come by. However, Lady Luck, seemed to favor him, for he was born into a crew of pirates, and pirates were nothing if not adaptable. Ruling the docks meant that they had a steady supply of food, small and meager though the fishes were. And since Ursula and his father ruled the docks in partnership, he and his pirates provided the fish, and she proved medicine and didn't charge them at the Fish and Chip when they came in to eat.
It's how he met Uma.
Uma, who whispered her dream of swimming in the oceans that laid beyond the barrier during late shifts, who walked like her body was too small for her, too tight. Who looked at hungry children peeking inside and tossed to "spoiled" to even be food, and if someone who was too pale, and had too many bruises, was loitering around back, she just happened not to have seen them. Who wanted Harry as her first mate, but he wanted her as his own, so they fought, and she won. Who looked at Gil, who smiled too much, who many would consider too simple, too dumb for even being a minion; and called him Mine. Uma, who wanted to get off the Isle so much, but cared for it too much.
~.~
Jay knew he looked like his mother. At least that's what his father told him. And his father's word was law. Every Isle parent's word was law, the children of the Isle didn't know anything else. At least those whose parents bothered with them. Jafar saw use in him, and so, Jay was bothered with.
It was something he learned long before he was old enough to mind the shop.
Just like he knew Jay was a nickname, his full name whispered to him once, never forgotten, and never told again.
For he, lived on the Isle Of The Lost. Home to sorcerers, genies, witches, thieves, con-men, and evil fairies. And though no magic breathed here. The power of a name was a different magic of its own. And held in the highest regard.
So he was Jay, son of Jafar, Prince of Thieves.
Who looked like a mother he'll never know.
(In Auradon, after choosing good. He'll know his mother looked like Aladdin.)
~.~
He knew that he was only fed because he kept his father's shelves stocked, and Jafar at least had the sense to know a full-bellied errand boy made for better wares. It probably helped that Jafar's reputation allowed for more food, having a famous father who had use for you had its perks. He and his father got just a little bit more, the limited canned goods the only thing his father was willing to never sell. He still went hungry some days, but some days were better than none.
So, he was better fit than most of the children here, most adults, stronger too.
(In Agrabah, the blue genie of his father's nightmares will tell him, that though magic did not breathe on the Isle, it did not mean it didn't breathe in him.)
~.~
Harry Hook is insane. It's something everyone on the Isle knew.
Jay found that he enjoyed insane.
There was this rush, a thrill that was different from Mal.
Chasing the tail end of red that flickered through the shadows of the alleyways, teasing laughter bouncing off the walls.
Sometimes he couldn't catch him.
"Looks like wee me has been caught."
Other times, he did.
"Hand it over Hook."
The other boy is not trapped, neither of them are, Jay can spot at least three exits. However, the illusion of it does something to him. Has him moving in close, Harry's lips pulled back into a smile that was all flirtatious, and dangerous.
"And what, could I have, that the Great Jay would want?" Harry hummed.
He's closer now, closer than recommended around Harry Hook, who's eyes gleam with a kind of glee that made Jay shivery, his own lips pulling back with just a hint of teeth, Jay's hand moved down along the boy's chest, fingers barely-there touches. Harry tilted his head to one side, and Jay mimic the motion, whether to make sure Harry isn't up to any tricks or to keep looking at those eyes, he's not sure.
" I don't think yer be finding what yer lookin' for there," Harry purred when Jay rested his hand on his hip.
Jay raised a brow and moved his hand to where he knew there was a pocket….right….there.
"Oh, would you look at that," the pirate bounced a bit on his feet, looking at the bracelet that Jay had stolen off a mark earlier.
"I should take payment out of your hide from making me chase you all over the place," Jay leaned a little bit forward.
Harry looked positively delighted at the thought, bringing up his hook, cold metal dancing along the side of Jay's face.
He doesn't move.
"But ye won't."
He was right.
"Til next time Jay." Harry purred.
Then he was alone and one of his stolen rings missing from his pocket.
~.~
Sometimes his dad spoke in a language that wasn't of Agrabah, he didn't know what it was, and considering the Isle was a melting pot of languages that said something.
The language spoke of something powerful, wise, a little mischievous, but sad.
It made him burn.
(When he heard the Genie speak for the first time, actually speak, he'll understand)
~.~
He only got caught once.
He managed to get away, but the owner of his would have been prize had come to the shop.
It never occurred to Jay that his dad was someone to be afraid of, yes, his dad was The Jafar. But to him, he was just dad. Scheming, old man of former glory. With the worse thing Jay ever seen him do was rant about the blasted street-rat or dissolving into in that language that made Jay's blood boil. And he didn't have that aura like Maleficent did, or the manic of Cruella De Vil.
At the moment, standing in the shop, Jay did not see Jafar his dad.
He saw Jafar, the Grand Vizier of Agrabah, the Sorcerer, the red Jinn.
He never got caught again.
~.~
Sometimes, he'll hear soft, fearful (and maybe a bit hopeful) voices speak out: "I wish."
"I wish I was warmer."
"I wish I had more food."
"I wish the pain would stop."
"I wish the barrier was gone."
I wish.
I wish.
I wish.
And there's this buzz in his ear, this urge that was begging to get out.
~.~
Carlos learned very early on how to be quiet, how to make others gave no more than a passing glance. He had to, with Cruella De Vil as a mother. He learned many things from his mother. Dogs were to be feared, his mother's word was law after all. Hiding was the best option when his mother went into a tantrum, he came out less bruised that way. There was no pleasing his mother, there never is.
(In Auradon, surrounded by what his mother could never have, listening to the one who knew her best, once cared for her more than anything. Carlos wondered why that wasn't enough for her. Then the light shined, and Anita's eyes reminded him a bit of his own, and he wondered, maybe it had been once.)
~.~
He had a cat once.
A purring ball of fur and cuddles.
His mother commented on needing a pair of new gloves.
He had a cat once.
~.~
Carlos is pretty sure Horace is the reason why he survived past infancy.
It seems like the only logical conclusion, he certainly can't see his mother taking care of a baby, and Jasper was too short-tempered, the fact that his son Jace was alive was a combination of Cruella's influence and the boy's mother. It wasn't anyone else, mainly because no one bothered with Hell Hall unless they had to, and the other was because it wasn't their business or benefit to do so. And Horace was always….less cruel to him. More willing to deal with him with something other than indifference at best.
He's also pretty sure it was Horace who convinced his mother to let him go to school, something that Carlos always looked forward to.
Sometimes, he'll look at Horace, and the urge to say something swelled up in him. But he could never say because he could never find what it is he wanted to say.
(In Auradon, when worlds finally connect, Carlos will finally find the words, they are "Thank you")
~.~
The tree-house wasn't safe once.
And that was enough for him.
~.~
was a con-man. However, he's also one of those rare villains who seem to genuinely care for his daughters, and while he won't go out of his way to bother in other's affairs. He does turn a blind eye now and then.
The back allies nestled Between is neutral territory, his. One of the few. And where Carlos goes when even his treehouse isn't safe. A literal hole in the wall that opened up to what is maybe a shack or a basement underneath a house. Abandoned, since Carlos has never heard a noise above.
Over time the room turned into something of a second treehouse, a sort of table, a blanket that he had sewn patches on, and the pillow Evie will eventually give him. Some of his projects had been moved here too.
It was…nice.
Felt truly his.
(It's a room that only two will have the privilege of knowing.)
~.~
Life on the Isle is miserable, but not every day is bad.
Even Carlos had not bad days.
Days where his mother doesn't yell, or he can wake up in the morning not sore and with a new bruise or two are not bad days.
Days, where he can work on his inventions in peace, are even better.
However, life on the Isle is miserable, and sometimes, there are bad days.
On days like that, Carlos will look out past the barrier, to shiny, pretty, perfect Auradon and think; do they had bad days too.
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