When dawn approaches, Mal is still sitting by the lake. She had not moved, not one bit. She seemed to be frozen, and not even the morning sun could thaw her out. Blood is dripping down her body still, and she has made no attempt to wash herself off. The ground around her is a rusty reddish color.

Bushes rustle and sticks snap. The people behind her start whispering.

"You think that's her?"

"Yeah."

"But she's all bloody!"

"We have to do our job."

"This is way outside our job!"

"It's not what we normally do, but still our job."

Mal determines that these are the guards, but still she doesn't move. What's the point? She's not wanted. She'd dead inside. Might as well get the rest to match. It's not like anyone cares. Why would they? She's evil. She's a witch.

She speaks to them, still not moving. When she does, her voice croaks out,

"I can see you and I can hear you

Though you come, I do not fear you.

Death is near, execution nigh,

But I don't care, I want to die."

This startles them into silence, and they approach slowly. Mal doesn't move, and they take so long getting to her that she sighs. She turns around and looks at the two guards and speaks again, saying,

"Do not worry,

I won't run or flee or cry.

What point is there,

When I must die."

She can see that they are unsettled by her. They don't want to be anywhere near her. Normally, she would sneer because she can see they've never had any hardships, but she doesn't move anymore. She can feel this heavy look on her face, one that forces her eyes downward. Oh well.

The guards reach her and they roughly grab her arms, pulling her up. One of them has to hold her up while the other pulled her arms behind her back. The guard holding her arms pulls out handcuffs and clasps them around her wrists. He tightens them so that they dig into her bleeding skin, treating her as roughly as he can

None of this prompts Mal to move. She doesn't fight them, but she doesn't cooperate either. It's almost like she's a doll, useless unless someone moves her. She feels heavy, so so heavy, like something invisible is weighing her down. She's also tired, oh so very tired, and she wants to go to sleep and never wake up. Maybe her wish will come true soon.

They lift her up and start dragging her along, not caring that they're hurting her even more. Mal's legs dangle down, her feet dragging across the ground, They drag her over rocks, logs, poison ivy and stinging nettle. Branches sticking out from the sides scratch her up even more, tearing her dress and drawing more blood. By the time they get out of the forest, her dress is unsalvageable and her feet are so torn up and swollen that it's painful just to look at them.

They drag her over the grass and onto the street. A trail of blood is smeared behind them. They have now reached the outskirts of the town. People are looking at them from the windows, some making calls while others head out to line the streets. They all watch first with curiosity, and then with hatred, and then loathing. They keep a respectful distance until someone yells, "It's the Witch! Get her!"

The crowd rushes towards her, intent on maiming and killing. The beautiful Auradon citizens have thrown of their illusions and now show how vicious they are, how everything is not perfect like it seems to be at first glance. They yell and shout and throw what they can get their hands on at her. One of the guards frantically takes out a walkie talkie and calls for backup.

Guards push through the crowd and then shove them back, creating a path for the two guards to drag her. As more people gather, Mal feels a spark of…pride? Defiance? Whatever it is, it comes from the part of her that she knew had died. But still, she struggles to her feet. The guards tighten their hold on her, not about to let her run away, but that is not her intent. She gets to her feet and takes a shaky step forward. And then another. And then another. She forces her chin up, her head to lift, and she stares ahead. She will not die disgraced. The guards tighten their grips even further. She glares at the guards, who quickly let go. She returns to staring ahead.

She walks forward, through the people yelling and screaming. She does not react to her screaming feet, or the objects bouncing off of her. And in the crowd, she sees a few people looking at her with sadness in their eyes. To those, she gives a quick, small nod. They understand what's happened to her. They see her dead eyes. They went through it themselves, and they know what it's like.

Eventually, Mal reaches the castle. The moment the gates close behind her, shutting everyone out, she collapses. The guards exchange glances, grudgingly impressed, before they haul her to her feet again. They drag her forward, up the steps, to where the newly crowned King is. She doesn't even bother to lift her head, letting it hang.

"Put her in the dungeons," he says, and then turns and walks away.

Tears start to sting at Mal's eyes, and she desperately wants them to disappear. She gave so much to him, and then he turned around and threw it away without a second thought. She wishes for the tears to disappear, because he doesn't deserve them. Not one bit. She orders them to stop, fighting the part in her that had died. And then that dead part vanishes, like it was never there.

Mal starts laughing. It starts out small and shaky, but then grows in volume until this screeching, maniacal laugh is shaking her body. The guards look at her like she's crazy, but she doesn't care. What do they matter? She's dead soon. Then nothing will matter. The whole world doesn't matter anymore. Nothing's left, so she'll give nothing in return.

She yells,

"Little Kingling, run away

Like a coward, like prey

And then will come a day

When you wish I never came!"

The King had already turned to look at her while she laughed, and upon hearing this, he said coldly, "I already wish that."

Mal tilts her head to the side. Her eyes grow big. A smile creeps up on Mal's face, unnaturally wide, and she laughed again before saying,

"The Little Kingling put up a fuss,

But whatdoya know? He has guts."

Mal starts laughing again, and the King gestures for the guards to takes her away. They drag her away, up the step but they go to the right instead of going through the center. She is dragged through stone hallways to a door. It's a heavy oak door, reinforced with metal. The hinges creak as it is opened. She is dragged down stairs, the air getting colder the deeper down they go. They get to the bottom, and walk along a long line of cells. All of them are empty.

They put her in the last cell. They don't throw her down, but they leave immediately after. They aren't worried that she'll get up, because they know that her energy is gone. Mal stays laying on the ground, only moving to flip herself onto her back. As they walk away, one of them guards takes out a handkerchief and starts wiping off the blood staining his hands. The oak door slams shut, the sound echoing through the hallway. The sound is quickly masked by an enraged voice shouting, "KINGLING!"

The shout echoes throughout the dungeon, traveling up the stairs and to the throne room where the King is sitting. He shivers. The monster in the basement is out for blood.