Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Intro

There's a certain set of unspoken rules on the Isle; a sort of, do and don't list. They're simple, easy to follow. Do lie. Do cheat. Do steal. Do kill. Do whatever it takes to survive. It's a short list. Easy. The Don'ts are even easier.

Don't show fear. Any weakness, really, but this one was crucial. They were meant to be feared. They were not the ones who should beg for mercy.

Don't apologize. Don't trust anyone. Don't get caught.

The last three were the most crucial, the ones you really needed most to survive. And it wasn't quite so easy, but then again, the Isle wasn't meant to be easy. But surely, it should have been harder, at least? They should have made it harder. Because sitting in the back of the shiny black car, as it sped along to what could only be their doom, Carlos couldn't help but think that maybe they should have made it harder. Maybe then he wouldn't have broken the rules.

Maybe then they wouldn't have been caught.

Carlos

The back of the car isn't as cramped as he had feared it would be, when he'd first seen it pull up outside of Maleficent's castle. The seats were leather, but soft in an almost foreign way, and there was enough space that they could have completely stretched out if they'd wanted to. It doesn't take long for Jay to discover the secret compartments full of food, and Evie mutters something to Mal about looking unattractive, but all Carlos could think was that he'd never known food could be neon pink. And come on sticks. Jay was taking advantage of the room, stretching out so he was almost reclining in Carlos' lap, slurping some kind of sticky red rope as if he were in some weird Lady and the Tramp remake.

Carlos hesitates, unsure if they were even allowed to take anything. But the drivers were silent and stoic behind their darkened divider, and so he shoves a few small balls of something in his mouth before he can second guess himself. Instantly he melts, groaning as the taste hits him, and hits Jay a few times to get his attention. It takes the older boy a few seconds, but then he looks over, and Carlos swallows hastily a few times to clear his mouth, gesturing to the ball in his hand.

"These," he mumbles excitedly. "It's sssalty like nuts, but it's ssweet like I don't know what."

 Jay's eyes narrow suspiciously, and he panics a moment as he realizes what he's done. But Jay doesn't comment on his slip up, just slowly chews his own treat a moment before answering.

 "Let me see," he demands, and Carlos sighs in relief, sticking out his tongue and allowing Jay a full view of the remains of the food in his mouth.

 Evie shrieks in disgust, but Jay glowers, and Carlos yelps as he's attacked, whimpering protests as the treat is ripped from his hands. Jay sits back in satisfaction while Carlos cringes, waiting for something more to happen. You never just win a battle on the Isle without taking something more in return.

 It's Jay's turn to realize his mistake, and he grimaces, his mouth opening as he draws a breath to speak. Carlos thinks he might actually attempt some kind of apology, but then Jay thinks better of it and shoves the treat into his mouth, humming his approval with a grin. They sit back in relative silence, and he supposes it's not so bad.

 Then Evie shrieks again as the divider goes down, and they catch a glimpse of the road before them. Carlos feels his heart plummet into his stomach, and Mal and Jay compete for the worst swear as they both curse rather crudely. They'd never been outside the main town on the Isle, and even on the outskirts they'd never ventured to the road. They'd never had need to. And even though they had wondered what exactly kept them all trapped there, Carlos had always assumed it was some kind of magic bubble or something.

 There was a bridge. The stone cobbles were cracked and gouged out in some areas, stretching out and then breaking off about a quarter way out from the Isle. A literal dead end.

 "It's a trap!" He yells, his voice strangled, and he thinks briefly that at least his last words had come out right.

 Then they're all screaming, and there's no fear of slipping up when you scream. He feels arms wrapping tightly around his chest, a solid warmth behind him, and he clutches desperately at the arms, for once not caring about how weak it made him look. It takes a comically long amount of time to realize that they're not dead, and he sits up, blinking in Jay's arms as a gold light blinds him.

 "Wh-what just happened?"

 The bridge is solid, smooth and golden beneath the car, the light spreading out before them and forming the bridge bit by bit, while the rest falls away behind them once they've safely passed it. Evie is smiling and even Mal looks mildly impressed, as Evie says what Carlos only just realized.

 "It must be magic."

 He shoves himself away from Jay, who glares pointedly out the window, and he doesn't mind being ignored this time. Everything is bright here, so many colors swirling in patterns that Carlos had never thought possible. It was almost cruel, really, seeing just how amazing it all was, thinking on what they had just come from. But it was still incredible to take in, and he climbs forward a little, leaning on Mal to stare out even further.

 "It's nnice," he whispers.

 "Please," Jay scoffs. "It could be a wooden box filled with grass and you'd still say it was nice."

 "What do you think the school will be like?" Evie asks quietly, before he can really protest.

 "Well it can't be worse than the Isle," Jay grumbles, rubbing subconsciously at his face. "At least here no one can deck you for talking out of turn."

 "Or ttalking at all," Carlos adds softly.

 Mal shrugs. "I don't care what it's like as long as my life is being threatened every waking moment."

 "I don't know," Carlos whispers. "I mean, any place that would set a tra-trap like the bridge…"

 "Yeah," Mal chimes in, a smirk on her face that was only partially genuine. "Sacrificing their own guys to take out a bunch of Villain Kids…"

"But it wasn't a trap," Evie broke in, sitting up sharply and then wincing, leaning back against Jay's shoulder.

"We'll find out," Mal mutters darkly, and the heavy silence that fills the car is thick and painful. 

Carlos fiddles with his dog tail, his classic black and white this time, unable to keep the one thought of his head. "What do w-w-e do if it is w-worse?"

He mentally curses whoever invented the letter 'W,' but Jay just rolls his eyes dismissively.

"It can't be worse. It's impossible."

"I can think of several w-ays in which it could be possible," Carlos counters carefully.

"How? These people aren't allowed to do half the stuff they do on the Isle," Jay insists.

"Definitely more than half," Evie put in from his shoulder.

"See?" Jay grins, but there's something about it that has Carlos thinking he's trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

"We're almost there," Mal says after a moment, and there's a tremble in her voice that he knows by the grimace she makes that she'd been trying to hide.

There's fountains and bushes that are carved into weird shapes, and he realizes only after a second glance that some are animals. A third glance reveals one as a dog, and he shudders, fighting the panic that the silhouette brings. Mal is shaking, too, and on an impulse he slips his hand into hers. He sees Jay grasp Evie's hand as well, and he can't help but think that they hadn't done something like this since they were kids, and that Jay must have been feeling the tension too because he hadn't tried stealing anything.

The car stops with only the tiniest squeal, and he doesn't dare try to offer any comfort because he knows if he opens his mouth, he'll slip. He only vaguely registers the noise outside of the car, the blur of color and cheering and maybe laughter. Welcoming sounds, he thinks, but it's hard to feel welcome when it's your jailors who are doing the greeting. He's pretty sure they've broken all the rules at this point, but it doesn't matter because the door is opening and he isn't entirely sure what will come of this.

Mal is crushing his hand and there's people in uniform everywhere, and a voice right in front of him is saying:

"Welcome to Auradon Prep."

 Ben

The first thing that goes through his head is that the villain kids are smaller than he'd thought. The next is a wish that he'd studied their folders just a bit more, because he couldn't for the life of him remember all their names.

"Welcome to Auradon Prep," he says cheerfully. And of course, it is cheerful. Being the son of Beauty and the Beast, he'd had certain expectations to uphold. Being their sole heir also meant lots of training on being diplomatic, and always having an open mind despite any reservations on his part. And boy, were there reservations!

"I'm Ben," he continues, extending his hand to the closest kid: a large, tan muscular boy. He had long, dark hair tucked under a ratty red beanie, but enough of it hung down to partially conceal his face. He knew this one-if the gold and red coloring of his clothes hadn't given it away, the wicked gleam in his eye did; one he'd heard about and seen all too often reflected in the eyes of a certain former street rat's son.

But the son of Jafar was a different matter entirely, and what was his name? The boy is taller than he is, so he has to raise his head a little to look him in the eyes as he takes his hand. He might not be able to remember his name, but he could at least afford him the respect of looking him in the eyes.

The boy's grip is firm, almost too firm, and he shakes in a way that leaves Ben feeling like they were meeting in a dark alleyway instead of broad daylight. It was a handshake that could easily be turned into an attack, and it's short; the boy backing away quickly with a toss of his head that gives Ben the faintest glance of a black eye before it's hidden again behind a curtain of hair.

"Jay," he says shortly, and Ben has to keep his frustrated sigh internal. He'd known it, he really had.

He turns to the girl with purple hair next. She's small, but not the shortest in the group. That position is reserved for the boy behind her. The girl's jacket is patterned in scales, purple and green that hangs off her shoulders like it's too big for her petite frame. She's pale, with piercing green eyes that he only just catches before she shoots them to the ground.

Must be Maleficent's daughter, he thinks to himself, but she jumps when he offers his hand, and it's unsettling to see the child of the Mistress of All Evil so…nervous.

"Mal," she says, and her voice is level, and echoing with a hidden authority, which makes her slow awkward shuffle that much more out of place.

Next is the girl with blue hair, and he manages to remember her name before she says it. "Evie." She doesn't shake his hand for long, and he thinks he sees it tremble as she takes it back and clenches it by her side.

Neither girl looks him in the eye, and neither does the boy he'd seen standing behind them all. Hiding, almost. Ben extends his hand to the boy, but he just closes his eyes, his whole body stiffening like…like he doesn't know what.

"That's Carlos," Evie says briefly. "He doesn't talk."

Carlos, yes. Cruella's son. 14, 15 years old, maybe. (He wasn't quite sure. The records hadn't quite been clear on that.) Doesn't talk. He'd known that, too. It was part of why Ben had chosen him. He had hoped that despite his silence, Auradon could help him find a voice. Help all of them, really.

But they were all silent now. Even the band had stopped playing in the background, though Ben couldn't begin to guess when they had stopped.

He glances to his left, meeting eyes with Audrey and finding a weird expression on her face; that look she gets when something is very wrong, but she can't break her 'princess' face to show it. He knows if he stares too long, he'll start breaking too, so he returns his gaze to the four kids in front of him.

"Let's start with the tour," he says, but it sounds more like a question than an actual statement. They don't respond other than to give muted nods, and he can't help but exchange another anxious glance with Audrey.

"Well, then, follow me."

They do, but if he hadn't been glancing behind him every few feet, he never would have known. They moved quietly and quickly, the only one who seemed to be openly taking in anything was Jay. He moved with a bit more confidence than the others, who barely raised their heads to sneak glances at what Ben showed them.

He had elected not to give them the long and boring version of the tour, instead keeping it simple; here's the dorms, there's the gardens, over there is the tourney field, the stables, the school itself. He can almost pretend like it's a normal tour; that these aren't villains behind him, just regular kids, and that there isn't anything wrong with them.

He's proven wrong yet again, when they reach the statue.

He pauses, and they hover anxiously as he explains the purpose of the statue, and why his father had thought it important for it to be the first thing new students see. A symbol of happy endings, and second chances. But when he claps his hands to demonstrate his point, they flinch, and Carlos lets out a strangled yelp, practically throwing himself in Jay's arms. It would have comical to see the larger boy, gripping the smaller boy's shoulders with a slightly disgruntled look. But the sheer terror in Carlos' eyes, mixed with the fact that Jay seems to be subtly placing himself between Carlos and the perceived danger, nulls any amusement he might have found at the situation.

"Carlos, it's alright," he assures quickly, as Jay works to untangle the boy from him. "My father wanted the statue to be able to transform from Beast to man; to show that anything is possible."

Carlos nods jerkily, but his eyes are on the ground again, and Jay doesn't quite relinquish his grip on the boy's shoulders. Ben clears his throat, forcing himself to maintain an air of calm and assurance as he leads them inside. He thinks he hears Mal muttering under breath, something about his dad and shedding, but when he turns to face them all again, there's nothing but silence. He's saved from further awkwardness by the appearance of Doug, who's so engrossed in his book that he doesn't seem to realize he's approaching the stairs.

"Doug," Ben calls, and his friend's head lifts, and he makes his way normally down the steps towards them.

"This is Doug," he introduces to the villain kids. "He'll be helping you get settled into your school schedule and anything you need to know about the dorms."

Doug doesn't make any move to shake the kids' hands, but he does smile politely and introduce himself. "I'm Doug, Dopey's son," he says.

He starts to list off all the dwarves' names, but Ben stops him before he can get going. He always forgets Sneezy, and they could be standing there all day waiting for him to get it. Doug smiles at the villain kids one more time before leaving, and Ben continues with the tour.

"There's a map of the whole school and the grounds in the main entrance here," he explains. "And you guys are in the North Tower, rooms 13 and 17. 13 is for Mal and Evie, and Carlos and Jay are in 17."

They seem surprised that he'd addressed them by name, if the slight lifting of their eyes is any indication. Even Carlos raises his head, but he quickly looks away again when Ben meets his eyes.

"Do you guys want any help finding your rooms?"

They don't answer, but he hadn't really expected them to. It scares him just how quickly he'd tuned into their nervous behavior, but he forces himself to press on.

"Just follow the maps, and if you do get lost, the suits of armor will tell you where to go if you ask. Do you have any questions?"

They all shake their heads, still not speaking, and Ben shuffles his weight nervously. "Well I'll give you guys time to get settled. I'll come by and get you for lunch and explain some of the afternoon classes."

More silence, and Ben swallows quickly. It prickles at the back of his neck; that sense of 'wrongness,' but he manages to maintain his composure enough to speak.

"Ok, I'll see you guys then. Come on, Audrey."

He winds his arms through Audrey's and turns away, heading back outside and across the grounds toward the tourney field. Outside in the warm air, the oppressive atmosphere diminishes, but he still finds himself glancing back over his shoulder. He almost trips over the bleachers, and Aubrey lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Ben! Please, look where you're going," she says, and he forces his gaze back to her, blushing slightly.

"Sorry," he respond. "I was distracted."

"Clearly," she says, but it's not coming out as sharply as he knows she can be.

"It's just-"

"Something's wrong," she finishes for him, and he's surprised at the fierce glint in her eye. "They're not acting right; none of them."

"I'm sure they're just nervous about coming to a new school," he responds carefully. "And, I mean, we did kind of exile them."

"Only Jay would even look you in the eyes, Ben!" Audrey cries. "And they've been hurt. Recently; couldn't you tell?"

"I saw the black eye," he hedges.

"You didn't see the mark on Mal's face? Or how the other girl- Evie?- was wincing every time she breathed? And Carlos wouldn't even let you touch him!"

He knew he'd have to stop her before she went off on a tangent. "Hey," he says soothingly, "We'll figure it out, and we'll help them, ok?"

He had known something was off, but he hadn't wanted to say it out loud. Afraid that it might make it real. But there was no denying that something was wrong.

"It's going to be ok."

It's more to reassure himself, but Aubrey nods anyway, taking a deep breath. "I'm gonna go see if Jane or Lonnie noticed anything off about them."

"Ok," he says, to appease her. "Just give them some space, at least until lunch? This is a new place and I want them to be comfortable."

She nods again and heads off toward the school. He watches her go in, and then heads for the gardens. He needed to find Doug.

Chapter Text

Ben

He finds Doug right where he’d expected him to be: in the garden, bent over a book. Despite being the son of Dopey, he was the brainiest one of the group, and could generally be found in the gardens on days they didn’t have morning classes. He looks up as Ben approaches, adjusting his glasses to greet him properly.

“Hey, Ben,” he says, marking his place in his book before closing it.

“Hey, Doug,” he responds, and, because it’s the polite thing to do: “What are you reading?”

Doug makes room on the bench as he sits down beside him, smiling as he brushes nonexistent dust off the cover.

“It's a treasury of classics from the past few centuries.” He stares lovingly at the book, which is enormous and could easily fill a backpack by itself.

“Did they get settled in ok?” There’s no need to clarify who ‘they’ are; who else could it be but the new arrivals?

“Well enough,” Ben shrugs a shoulder, trying not to reveal how uncomfortable the whole thing made him.

“I didn’t really stick around long enough to find out, but what are they like?” he continues, and Ben can tell he wants details.

“You saw them,” Ben replies. “Jay, son of Jafar-he’s the tall one; looks like he could lift a carriage above his head. The rest are--”

“I know what they look like, Ben,” Doug interrupts, rolling his eyes, exasperated. “I meant, what are they like?”

He hesitates, frowning slightly. “They're quiet. Too quiet.” For the children of four of the most hated and feared Villains, he’d expected a little more…chaos. “And they’re skinny,” he continues slowly. “Like they don’t get enough to eat.”

It’s a foreign concept in Auradon; not eating enough food. If anything he sometimes thought they’d had too much food. So to be faced with four kids who didn’t…it was a little startling, to say the least.

Instead of looking startled, however, Doug nods. “Well, that’s no surprise there,” he says, and it’s the offhand way he says it; so knowing, so casual, that has Ben taken aback.

“It’s not?” It comes out harsher than he’d intended, and Doug gives him a strange look.

“Of course it isn’t.”

His confusion must be showing on his face, because Doug straightens a little on the bench. “Ben, you have to know by now that the Isle only gets our garbage.”

“Our garbage,” he repeats blankly, the words not quite registering.

Doug nods slowly, still looking at him weirdly. “You know, the stuff we throw out; food that goes bad before it's sold; our leftovers-well, in edibles, really. Old tech. Pretty much everything we don't use.”

He must have been silent for too long, as Doug continues quietly, “You did know that, didn't you?”

Ben shakes his head, still a little dazed.

“I mean, it’s not that big a deal,” Doug covers quickly. “What else? Anything interesting?”

“Not that I can think of,” he say slowly.

The truth is, there was a lot about them that was ‘interesting.’ Like the bruises. And their clothes: the wrong sizes and not quite right for this weather. The way they all stared at the floor when he looked at them. Except for Jay. He seemed to take every look as a personal challenge, and wouldn’t look away until someone else did first. Carlos’ silence, and his reaction to the statue. Like he was expecting it to leap off the pedestal and attack him.

Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe all the kids on the Isle grew up like that. But he didn’t want to bring it up with Doug, in case he said that it wasn’t anything to worry about. That stuff like that was normal. He would have to get Fairy Godmother to check them out, because nothing about this situation felt ‘normal’ to him.

He stood abruptly, smoothing out miniscule wrinkles in his suit jacket. “I'd better get going,” he says with a forced smile. “Lunch is coming up, and I told the new arrivals that I’d escort them down.”

Doug looks up at him with a concerned look on his face, pausing him in his tracks. “Ben. Did you really not know? About the food?”

The comment brings a lump to his throat that stings when he swallows, and he barely manages to respond, “No. No, I didn't. Now if you'll excuse me…”

He struggles to regain his composure, but manages a quick nod to Doug. He thinks he hears the other boy trying to say something behind him, but he’s already out of earshot; hurrying out of the garden and back towards school.

 Mal

The room is ridiculously pink, with lace and frills everywhere. The curtains are almost see through they’re so pale, despite also being tinted pink. The blinds draw securely, and she’s grateful for that at least. The furniture that qualifies as a ‘bed’ is large enough for two, and there’s a faint smell of flowers in the air. Roses, she thinks, grimacing in disgust.

“It’s amaz--”

“Gross.” She cuts across Evie’s awed gasp, slamming her suitcase down at the foot of the nearest offending item.

“Right,” Evie says, subdued. “Amazingly gross.”

But Mal can hear her muted squeal of joy, and she can’t help but roll her eyes, amused. “Door, E,” she mutters, and Evie pauses in her quiet tirade of the room to answer.

“Already got it.”

“The lock, too?” It only hurts when you’re not careful.

Evie doesn’t respond, but Mal doesn’t need her to. They both know how these things go. She only hopes Jay and Carlos stay just as sharp. They can’t afford to lose themselves in the cushy lives of Auradon.

“They don’t really expect us to sleep in these things, do they?”

Evie smirks, but the longing in her eyes as she runs her fingertips across the soft pink comforter is unmistakable. Sure, there’d been beds back on the Isle. Anything and everything qualified as a bed, as long as you could sleep on it or in it, or under it. As long as it was somewhere easily defendable, it could feasibly be called a bed. There were some on the Isle who carried around bamboo pallets that could be unrolled as an easily transportable bed.

She forces herself to shove those thoughts aside and work on unpacking what little clothing she had. The closet is huge, almost a room in itself, but there’s barely enough outfits to fill even a quarter of it, even with the clothes she finds already hanging inside. Uniforms; the same ones she’d seen the Auradon kids wearing outside. Blue and white plaid skirts with a matching blouse jacket, complete with a few long sleeved button up shirts of various pastel colors.

“I am not wearing this,” she declares vehemently, shoving the disgusting items to the very back of the closet.

Evie lets out a sharp gasp behind her, and Mal feels her lips twitch in amusement. “It’s only a uniform, E, you don’t have to…”

Her words fall short when she turns, and sees Evie frozen in the closet. Her face is pale, so pale Mal thinks she might be sick. One arm is suspended in mid-air, reaching for an empty hanger, and the other is pressed tightly to her side, her body trembling slightly.

“Shit,” she curses, dropping the clothes and rushing to the other girl’s side. “Evie, what is it? Are you alright?”

A stupid thing to ask, really. The look on Evie’s face; that tight look of pain that Mal knew all too well, should have been an obvious answer.

“Fine,” Evie manages to get out, and she even smiles, but it’s too thin of a smile for Mal to be fooled. “Just…moved too fast, is all.”

“You should sit,” Mal says, moving aside some of the clothes on the bed that had yet to be put away.

“Doesn’t help,” Evie mutters.

“Sorry, that wasn’t a suggestion.”

It’s enough to make Evie actually smile, and she allows Mal to help her sit on the edge of the bed.

“Careful Mal,” she whispers with a pained chuckle. “Someone might think you actually care.”

The words hurt, strangely enough. Of course, Mal would never admit it. But she would think that with everything they had been through together; and despite her mother’s insistence that any kind of attachment was a liability, that it would be obvious by now that she did care. Especially considering the previous night, and exactly how Evie had received her injuries in the first place.

Evie must have read the thoughts on her face, because she leans forward despite the pain, her brows furrowing slightly. “Mal…”

Anxious to change the subject before things got out of hand, Mal picked up one of the outfits Evie had laid aside on the bed. “You want me to put these in the closet for you?”

“No, I’m going to put them back in my bags. I, uh, I can’t wear them right now.”

An outfit that Evie can’t wear? Mal raises an eyebrow suspiciously, examining the offending garments closer. They’re varying shades and degrees of blue and leather, her usual trademark style.

“I see nothing wrong with these whatsoever.”

Evie huffs a short sigh, rolling her eyes. “Mal. The sleeves.”

Oh. Mal looks again, and realizes that they’re all short sleeved. Even the one dress that has sleeves only comes down halfway. Mal curses her insensitivity, although there is a part of her that knows being insensitive is usually the one thing she prides herself on. But still…

“It’s pretty hot out, E,” she reasons. Even she hadn’t ditched all of her short sleeved clothes when she’d…well…

“I don't want to weird anyone out,” Evie replies flatly. “We've barely been here an hour and they've been looking at us like we’re freaks ever since we got out of the car.”

“Freaks?” Mal repeats lowly, but Evie continues smoothly, ignoring the interruption.

“Besides, you're wearing a jacket for exactly the same reason.”

It’s hard to debate such a solid point, but she tries anyway; about to argue that it’s not quite the same thing. That her jacket was more to conceal the bruises than anything else. That she’d at least had the sense…but that was pushing past insensitive, borderline cruel. And even if it was in her nature, saying all that to Evie was not an option.

The sound of the lock clicking in the door halts her midsentence, and Evie stiffens on the bed, shooting Mal an anxious look. She almost misses the look, too busy bending and slipping a knife from her boot, grateful the Auradon residents were naïve enough to not bother with a dangerous items check when they’d arrived.

Evie’s got her hand hallway to her pocket, ready to grab the small vial hidden inside. It’s a simple blend of nightshade, magic, and something else that Carlos had managed to procure, though he couldn’t begin to say what it was. It didn’t matter so much what was in it as it mattered what it did. The mixture inside would create a thick, dark screen of smoke, and the combination of magic and poison would leave the victims blind and completely paralyzed. Or dead, if enough was inhaled. The paralysis was temporary, at least. The other effects, not as much. It had only been used once, but they hadn’t talked about it since then.

The latch snaps, signifying a successful break in, and Mal braces herself to throw when the door swings open and two familiar figures appear in the doorway. Evie slumps in relief on her bed, but Mal takes a moment longer to relax and lower her arm, scowling.

“You idiots,” she hisses, but it’s more a sigh of relief than anything hostile. “I almost killed you!”

“Well,” Jay says casually, eyeing the room while Carlos attempts to fix the lock he’d broken. “You didn’t, though it’s good to see old habits haven’t died so easily.”

“Please,” she scoffs, replacing her knife in her boot. “As if an hour in this place would make me forget years of fighting for my life.”

“Just saying,” Jay shrugs. Carlos makes a triumphant sound as the lock clicks back into place, and he comes fully into the room, looking around in a similar state of awe as Evie had.

“This is the pinkest, pr-r-rissiest room I've ever seen in my life.”

Jay snorts. “And we all know that’s saying something.”

“I'm not complaining,” Evie sighs, no longer stiff with pain, although Mal knows she has to still be feeling it. “It's got air conditioning and lights and plumbing that works all the time; not just whenever Auradon feels like it.

“Or when-never I high jack stuff and rrig it for you,” Carlos adds, before his eyes light up and he rushes past them.

“Hey, check out the TV!” he exclaims, ripping open one of the nightstands beside the beds and pulling out a small black remote. “If you press the red button, you can w-watch TV, and if you press the gre-green button over here, you can play g-ames.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “It's not that exciting.”

“Th-that's what you say now!” Carlos shoots back, wedging himself under the TV and messing with the wires. “Just w-w-wait till I get it st-started!”

Mal rolls her eyes as Jay places himself next to Evie on the bed, letting her lean against him. “Carlos if you break it, you’re putting it back together.”

“I’m not gonna b-break it!” He shouts back, his voice muffled beneath the TV.

“And breathe, dude,” Jay adds with a smirk. “You’re slipping again.”

Carlos mutters something in response, but it’s drowned out by the game on the screen, blasting some obnoxious theme music as it suddenly comes to life. Carlos climbs out from under the TV, snatching up the controller to start the first level.

It’s amazing just how young he looks in that moment, and something tugs at Mal deep inside. Carlos may have only been 14, and the youngest of all of them, but he’d had to grow up pretty fast on the Isle. They all had, really. But in one moment he’d transformed, and was almost like a kid again. It made Mal ache to see it, and she set herself to organizing Evie’s lip gloss in the bathroom, lining up the small array in order of color.

“Jay,” she hears Carlos chatter in the other room. “You’ve gotta tr-try this!”

There’s the sounds of a struggle, and a heavy oof! followed by a triumphant laugh from Jay. “You’re right, this is pretty cool.”

“Ja-ay!” Carlos whines. “There was another controller! Wh-wh-why’d you have to take mmine?”

It’s almost normal, and Mal can feel herself starting to wish, to wonder what things would have been like if they’d grown up here instead. It’s a dangerous line of thought, and she quickly finishes organizing the rest of the makeup before heading back into the other room.

“Hey, Carlos,” she says, and he looks up from his spot on the floor at the foot of her bed. She notes briefly that it’s the furthest from Jay, and she inwardly laughs at that before continuing. “How do you want to play this?”

“Play wh-what?” He frowns, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, Evie’s already covered you, for now, but you can’t stay mute forever.”

He reddens, then pales, all set to start choking out a protest, but she holds out a hand and stops him short.

“You know we’re not gonna make you say anything if you don’t want to. I just wanted to know how you wanted to go about it out there.”

He closes his mouth, then nods, thinking. Jay even pauses the game, looking back over his shoulder to hear.

“I think,” he begins, then hesitates. “I think I’ll stick to wr-riting, and, maybe…” he cringes, his eyes on the floor as he finishes. “M-maybe some sssigning, if you guys…if you still….”

“Dude, chill,” Jay says, cutting him off.

Carlos flinches, but Jay is smirking, and he waits until Carlos looks at him before answering. “Of course we still know.”

His hands make the signs as he speaks, and Mal can practically see the wave of relief as it washes over Carlos’ features.

He brings a flat palm up to his mouth, then pushes outward with the back of his hand towards Jay. It’s something they’d never really learned to say, and it was part of the words’ forbidden nature that led it to become a necessary part of Carlos’ vocabulary.

[Thank you.]

“Ok, let’s not go too far,” Jay grumbles, but he’s still smiling, and he tosses Carlos the extra controller.

The game resumes with a vengeance, and barely more than fifteen minutes pass before they’re arguing with each other again. In the midst of all the chaos, there’s the faintest sound of a knock on the door. It takes all of three seconds for the game to be turned off, Jay and Carlos standing stock still in front of the TV screen.

Carlos’ eyes are wide, his hand shaking slightly as he signs; a finger gun shape, with his thumb against his chin, his pointer finger curling inwards a few times. [Who?]

Mal rolls her eyes, her own movements quick and sharp as she whispers, “Well, if I knew that…” But it’s not the time for sarcasm.

The knock comes again, a little more insistent, and Jay shushes Carlos’ soft whimper.

[We’re not supposed to be here.] He signs frantically, motioning to himself and Jay, but Mal hushes him as well, calling out to whoever is at the door.

“Come in!”

Carlos is shaking, and Mal notes with some relief that Jay has put himself between Carlos and the door. Evie has her hand at her pocket again, but Mal thinks it shouldn’t have to come to that. Anyone who would want to cause them trouble wouldn’t have been so polite.

“Hello again,” a guy’s voice says, and Mal relaxes as she recognizes him as the guy from earlier. Ben? She thinks it’s Ben.

He stands in the doorway, not entering, and surveys the room curiously. He spots Jay and Carlos, but doesn’t comment on their presence, instead turning his gaze back to Mal.

She quickly drops her gaze to the floor, muttering a noncommittal “Hi,” in the hopes that maybe one of the boys will say something, too.

“Are you guys getting settled in pretty well?” Ben asks, and Mal is tempted to laugh, but refrains. Why should he care?

“Yeah, we're alright.” It comes from Jay, and Mal sighs quietly in relief that the conversation had been taken from her.

“Good,” Ben says slowly. “That’s…that’s good.”

Something in his voice is tight and strained, and Mal narrows her eyes at the floor. Was he being forced to check on them? They definitely didn’t need his pity, or any of Auradon’s ‘hospitality.’ She’s all set to tell him so, consequences be damned, but just as she raises her head, he speaks again.

“It's uh, almost time for lunch, so I came to get you guys and bring you down to the dining hall.”

Mal turns and surveys her crew. Jay is hovering halfway between Carlos and Evie, ready for whoever needs him most. She raises an eyebrow at him, silently asking what he thinks, but he just shrugs a shoulder. Evie looks apprehensive, but she nods anyway. Carlos is the most nervous of them, shifting his weight back and forth and fidgeting with his dog tail. She catches his eye and asks the same thing, but he shakes his head vehemently, pointing at her and then tapping his shoulder twice with a claw shape.

[You’re the boss.]

Ok then. She turns back to Ben and nods, trying to seem like she knows what she’s doing. “Sure, I guess.”

Ben smiles, then, and there’s something nice about his smile. Reassuring. Then she realizes what she’s thought and scowls, turning back to the rest of the gang and jerking her head. They shuffle into place behind and around her, instinctively creating one of their defensive formations.

Mealtimes were never a fun affair back on the Isle, regardless of location; whether school or home. At school it was general mess of a free for all, and anyone who actually managed to get food was beaten to a pulp and stolen from. And at home, it was even worse.

She could handle herself just fine in a fight, and so could Evie, if it came down to it, and given the right circumstances. Jay was no question, and Carlos…he could hold his own. For a little while. But she really wasn’t in the mood to deal with something like that right now.

Ben leads them back to the main entryway, then turns off from there and enters a large open room. The ceiling is impossibly high, with golden chandeliers casting light into every corner. It’s more of a giant hallway than a room, with circular tables set up in neat little clusters, and larger tables full of dessert type food set up at the front of it all.

“This is it,” Ben says, as if they couldn’t tell for themselves. “Sit anywhere you like.”

He leaves to join a table full of other Auradon kids near the center of the room, and Mal blows out a short breath between her teeth.

“Ok, where do we sit?”

Evie steps up to her side, nodding her head towards a table near the back of the room. Jay makes a low noise of disapproval, and Mal glances to him out of the corner of her eye.

“Too far if we need to make a quick get away,” he explains shortly. She nods, seeing his point. Carlos taps her elbow, and raises a hand to point to another table. It’s near the door, almost in a corner; easily defendable, but not so tucked into the corner that they’d be trapped by it.

“Nice work, Carlos,” she praises, and Carlos grins, but it’s a short lived moment as they sit down. Evie is on her left with Jay, and Carlos sits on her opposite side. The plates in front of them are empty, but there’s food in the middle of the table: a wicker basket full of squat round bread, and a few covered silver bowls with steam leaking out from beneath the lid. A small card is next the each plate, and Jay picks one up, staring at it curiously.

“Vegetable rice soup, chicken stew, biscuits, peas, and apples,” he reads, slowly.

The names sound familiar on their own, but altogether like that, it might as well be a foreign language. The smell does enough of a job explaining for them, however. Mal feels her stomach grumble, and Evie swallows beside her, her eyes fixed on the plate of apples. Carlos reaches out to grab something from the uncovered basket, but Mal smacks his hand back.

“We don't know how this works,” she says sharply. “We don't want to get in trouble.”

At least not yet. It’s a simple plan, and straightforward. Lay low and blend in, scout out the terrain, gather all the information necessary and then, find the wand. But they can’t lay low if they go and break whatever sacred rules they have here in Auradon, so they sit, silently waiting for the signal to eat.

It’s not the worst torture they’d experienced with food, but it’s close enough that Mal can feel her stomach convulsing. Jay taps his fingers anxiously against the table, and Carlos fidgets with his dog tail, clipping and unclipping it from his belt and making miniscule adjustments to the chain. The smell is intoxicating and nauseating in turns, as memories of old punishments involving food drift through her mind.

It’s at least twenty minutes before change comes, in the form a confused looking Ben. He appears suddenly behind Carlos, who jumps so hard his knee hits the edge of the table. Mal motions quickly with her hand, calming him before he tries to start apologizing.

“If you don't like it, we can get you something else,” Ben says, decent enough to not comment on Carlos’ reaction. “We weren't sure what…”

“No, this is fine,” Jay cuts him off quickly. “It's just… we thought…” He looks to Mal helplessly, not sure how to phrase their concern.

“We didn’t how much we could have,” Evie blurts for her. “Or who we had to ask.”

Ben blinks, and his confusion is almost comical. “Ask?”

“If it was okay for us to eat?” Mal says, wondering if maybe they’d pegged this the wrong way.

“Ok,” Ben says slowly, like he’s trying hard to stay diplomatic. “I don’t know what lunch is like on the Isle of the Lost, but here you can eat however much you want…. And you don't have to ask anybody.”

I’m sure you don’t know, Mal thinks sourly, but the emotion is only halfhearted because she’s still starving.

“Right,” Jay mutters quietly. “Uh…thanks.”

The word is just as foreign a language as the food before them, but somehow Jay manages it, and Ben nods awkwardly.

“Enjoy your food.”

He makes his way quickly back to his table and sits down, and it’s only in watching him go that Mal realizes that everyone he's sitting with is staring at them. She quickly whirls back to face the food, and her group.

“Ok then.”

It's all the encouragement they need, and they start adding food to their plates. Carlos is torn between the two soups, but Jay 'helps' him decide when he takes a bite of one and instantly spits it back into the bowl with a grimace. He chooses the other soup, and Jay begins to rip off pieces of bread. They all avoid the apples, but Mal doesn't really need the added food as she's already full in minutes.

She shoves her plate away, groaning as she sits back in her seat. “I don't want to waste it, but I am stuffed.”

Evie eyes all the food still left unfinished at the center of the table. “Mother would kill me for leaving this much.”

“Nah, she’d probably just beat you,” Jay says matter-of-factly, crossing his arms behind his head. “Or she’d….”

Evie glares at him, effectively cutting him off. Mal stares at her own plate, thinking that a meal like that would likely have lasted her at least a month back home. If Maleficent was in a good mood, that is, and actually let her eat in that month. And didn’t try slipping poison into any of her food.

A bell rings loudly above their heads, shattering her train of thoughts. Carlos just about jumps out of his skin, but Mal notices that everyone else starts to get up and head toward the doors. She quickly pushes back her chair, and the rest of the gang follows her lead. They’re about to tail the Auradon kids leaving ahead of them, when Ben appears once again and stops them by the door.

“Ok, so normally after lunch you’ll head to your first afternoon class,” he explains. “But we still haven’t figured out what classes you guys will be taking yet. So for right now, you’ll be going to Remedial Goodness class with the Fairy Godmother.”

Mal straightens, suddenly alert. Fairy Godmother? This could be the chance they were hoping for. She glances to her right to see that Evie is just as focused as she is, and she grins to herself. Maybe they could pull this off after all.

“It's technically your first morning class,” Ben continues apologetically. “But the schedule…anyway, it’s right down that hallway. You can't miss it.”

He points the way they’re supposed to go, then gives them a quick smile before hurrying down the hall in the opposite direction as a second bell rings out. They follow his directions to ‘Remedial Goodness,’ Jay laughing about Carlos's reaction to the bell, but his humor does nothing to quell Mal’s sudden unease. By the time they reach the classroom, the hallway is practically empty, but she wouldn’t have survived as long as she had if she let ‘practically empty’ be synonymous with ‘safe.’

Evie goes in first, ducking under Jay’s arm as he holds the door. It’s not so much a gesture of goodness as it is a strategy of defense. Evie can easily clear a room with her vial, but if things got messy, Jay was positioned to block any escapees, or else leap into the mess himself. Carlos crept in next, always closest behind, and always closest to the door in case he needed to run. She’s the last one left, defending them from anything that might try to catch them from behind.

It’s that instinct that drives her to scan the hallway a final time before entering the classroom, and so she’s the only one that notices Ben. He’s standing at the far end of the hall, frozen outside of a classroom door with a weird look on his face. She doesn’t get the chance to figure out what it might be; because he realizes she’s seen him in the next instant and ducks inside the classroom, leaving her to face her first class in Auradon alone.

Carlos

There was never a dull moment with school on the Isle of the Lost. Something was always burning, or being broken, or stolen, or…lost. Lessons and classes were as informal as they could get, and usually centered on various methods of killing, stealing, and spying, in no particular order. Plots of revenge weren't always being shoved down his throat, and it was easy enough to get swept up in the chaos of a mass of youthful villains; full of bad blood and hormones.

It was one the reasons Carlos had loved it. Being the son of one of the more evil villains on the Isle, and with the reputation his mother had for being less than stable, he was usually given a wide berth. Especially if he was with Mal and Jay and Evie. He could keep his head down, do the work required of him and survive.

For the most part, anyway. Given his heritage, it was also expected of him to be just as particularly evil, and that was where he'd run into problems. And when it was discovered just why he'd never really ‘participated’ in class, well…it all went downhill from there. The teachers were especially ruthless, refusing to tolerate even the slightest slip on his part, and he'd barely managed to scrape through as each term just got worse and worse.

So the idea of school in Auradon, where everyone is so sickeningly perfect, is enough to tie his stomach in knots. Who knew what sort of standards they had? The halls are practically empty when they finally reach the classroom, but he'd been ambushed enough times in seemingly abandoned places to know to tread lightly. He's almost grateful when he finally squeezes his way into the room behind Jay, and hears Mal closing the door firmly behind them.

It doesn't last long, however, as he finally takes in the classroom. It was huge, large enough to fit at least three of the classrooms back on the Isle. A raised platform stood at the head of the room, with a giant stained glass window behind it, tinted with the blue and yellow colors of Auradon. A blank chalk board stood atop the platform, just beside an empty podium, and the room itself was filled with small wooden desks; all lined in neat little rows and just big enough for two.

But it's the back wall that has him worried, namely, that there is none. The ‘wall’ is divided into three sections: two ornate open windows on either side, with a large glass door between them. The glass was wide open, allowing Carlos a view of another hallway, and an open sort of antechamber filled with computers and plush chairs. The hall was full of bustling students, and he could even see a few more Auradon kids in the open room beyond.

It was by far the worst thing he could have imagined about class, and he began scanning the rest of the room on instinct, trying to find places to hide; anywhere that could be defended. There was nothing, the room itself confining by nature, and he draws a sharp breath, trembling as he grabs desperately at Jay's arm.

The taller boy turns quickly, taking one look at Carlos' face and instantly stopping. He reaches out, patting the air in front of him twice with both hands, palms down and fingers slightly spread.

[Calm down.]

Carlos shakes his head, trying to point and show Jay what he means. He holds his hands up, palms out and with both pointer fingers pressed together. Then he moves his left hand, breaking it away from the right and turning it to face his right hand before bringing it back against his right hand.

[Door.]

“The door?” Jay repeats, frowning, but he looks when Carlos points, and his expression clears. “Oh.”

“What?” Mal had come up behind them, while Evie is hovering just in front of the first row of desks.

Carlos repeats his sign and points, shaking his head frantically. [No door.]

Mal frowns, her eyes narrowing as she surveys the glass, then she raises her head and scans the rest of the classroom.

“Too vulnerable,” she mutters.

Carlos taps her shoulder, his eyebrows furrowing and then lifting as he signs; shaking his pointer finger, and then tapping the front of his left shoulder before bringing his finger across to tap the front of his right.

[Where do we…?]

And he only just starts to form the sign for ‘sit,’ when a low hollow noise echoes through the room, and a door he hadn't noticed behind the platform opens, and a small but stern looking woman striding out.

Evie stiffens, and Carlos shrinks behind Jay, Mal moving forward and coming to stand just beside him. The woman pauses when she sees them, and he bites his lip hard, bracing himself for an outburst.

“Oh,” she says, and she seems almost as startled as they are. “There you all are.”

She smiles, and it lifts her entire face, banishing her stern expression from earlier. “Well we haven't got all day; just pick a seat and we can get started.”

She seems good natured enough, and Carlos supposes it would be given, considering where they are. But there was something off about her smile, and the way she was watching them-almost like she was waiting for them to burst into flames; made him uneasy.

They shuffle obediently to the center of the room, far enough from the woman to be out of range, but still close enough to the door they'd entered through. Evie and Mal choose one table, while Jay and Carlos take the one just beside them, the aisle seeming too wide a divide as he settles anxiously into place.

“That's better,” the woman says. “Before we begin, I believe introductions are in order.” She waves with a slight flourish of her hand before gesturing to herself. “I am Fairy Godmother.”

Carlos sees Mal straighten out of the corner of his eye, and he does too, out of instinct.

“The Fairy Godmother?” she repeats, and there's something weird about her face, like she was trying to be sincere. “Like, bibbity, boppity, boo?” She even waves her hand like it's a wand, and Carlos grimaces at how unnatural a ‘good’ Mal looked.

“Bibbity boppity you know it!” The Fairy Godmother says, chuckling at Mal's wand waving.

“Wow,” Mal sighs, and Jay gags beside him. Carlos feels his lips twitch. Even Jay got it. “You know, I'd always wondered what it must have been like for Cinderella; the way you just appeared out of nowhere with that magic wand, and sparkly gown. And the magic wand.”

Carlos coughs pointedly, but is ignored as the Fairy Godmother clasps her hands together in an all too perfect and proper gesture.

“Well,” she says warmly. “That was a long time ago, and as I always say ‘Don't focus on the past, or you'll miss the future.’”

“Kill me now,” Jay mutters, and Carlos can't help but agree. This lady is almost as flamboyant and dramatic as Maleficent sometimes, though he doesn't think either women would appreciate the comparison.

Fairy Godmother turns and begins writing out a lesson plan on the board, and Carlos uses the opportunity to pull a sheet of paper from his bag, scrawling on it hastily before reaching across the Isle and kicking Mal's shoe with his foot. She lifts her head, and though she didn't noticeably turn it from the board, he knows she's watching. He flashes the paper, smirking at her before tucking it away again as Fairy Godmother turns back around.

Laying it on thick, Mal?

She doesn't get a chance to respond, but if the subtle clenching of her jaw was any sign, she didn't find it as humorous as he had.

“Now then, before we begin,” Fairy Godmother continues. “Carlos.”

He freezes, and he sees the others do too. He has to fight to keep the fear off his face, but he's certain he's failed because the woman's expression falters. He nods carefully, making sure to keep his eyes on her so she knows he's listening.

“I know you don't talk, dear,” and her voice is still kind, but hesitant. “And so I just wanted to be sure that you and I were on the same page with class. How would you like to go about this?”

He stares, completely caught off guard. Never, not once had anyone tried to accommodate him; especially not a teacher. Most of the teachers on the Isle didn't have the patience to wait for him to write his responses, and they all had their own creative ways of 'helping' him whenever he slipped and stuttered while speaking.

He looks to the rest of the gang, but they're just as stunned as he is, and he realizes that Fairy Godmother is still waiting for him. He blushes, pulling out his notepad.

I can write.

She nods, smiling. “That will do just fine.”

He breathes a soft sigh of relief, sitting back in his chair. Maybe he could survive this, after all. Then he catches sight of the questions on the board, and he suddenly isn't so sure. He nudges Jay, who scowls at him, but Carlos jerks his head to the chalkboard, eyes wide as Fairy Godmother begins speaking. A long thin stylus appears in her hand, and she points to each word with it as she talks.

“You find a magic lamp…,” she begins, and Jay is frowning in a different way now, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you: A) Seal it in a cave? B) Use it to gain unlimited power? C) Trick the genie into giving you more wishes? Or D) Use the lamp's powers for good?”

Jay is silent a moment, his head cocked slightly in that 'thinking' thing he does; where he tries to decide what the best way to rob you is. He scans the board, then searches Fairy Godmother's face before finally shakes his slowly.

“Is this a trick?”

The way the Fairy Godmother's smile falls off her face is almost comical, and Carlos even hears Mal give a breathy sort of cough; the kind she does when she wants to laugh but knows it would be dangerous to show her amusement. Jay is clenching and unclenching his fist under the table, and Carlos feels a whimper rising in his throat as he waits for the inevitable explosion.

“I'm sorry?” Fairy Godmother asks carefully, and Jay snorts, his eyes hard as he gestures to the board.

“‘If I find a magic lamp,’” he repeats derisively. “As if every waking moment of my life I haven't been looking for one. Now, suddenly, somehow, I find one, and you want to know what I'd do with it?”

“Jay,” Mal hisses sharply, and he instantly falls silent, but his expression is still a steely mask as he crosses his arms across his chest.

“Jay,” Fairy Godmother repeats carefully. “The question is not a trick. It's merely…an exercise, to test your abilities to determine right from wrong.”

Jay laughs, but it's harsh and bitter, and both Carlos and Fairy Godmother flinch to hear it. “Well, in that case,” Jay mumbles darkly. “If I found a magic lamp, I'd seal it in a cave where no one could find it. Especially not my father.”

“I, oh…,” Fairy Godmother blinks, seemingly caught off guard by his answer, and Carlos thinks that might be the only thing saving Jay from being punished. “Well,” she finally continues. “I suppose…that is still an admirable thing, Jay. Well done.”

Jay scoffs, rolling his eyes, and Carlos knows this isn't something he'll be letting go of anytime soon. Fairy Godmother clears her throat anxiously, then taps the board with her stylus again.

“Next question,” she says, recovering her wits and winning smile. “You are given an adorable puppy….”

Carlos flinches, the blood draining from his face and leaving him feeling cold and then hot in turns.

“Do you: A) Skin its fur for a coat, or B) Give it a treat?” Fairy Godmother finishes with a very direct smile at him. “Carlos?”

He swallows, shaking his head hard. For the second time this class, Fairy Godmother blinks in surprise, and he writes quickly in his notepad, hearing Jay chuckle beside him as he reads over his shoulder. He shrugs off the other boy's prying gaze and holds up the pad with trembling fingers.

C) Drop the dog and run.

“I'm sorry?” Fairy Godmother says, faltering as she takes in his response. “Run?”

He nods earnestly, tapping the word again. Run.

Jay is chuckling openly now, and Carlos shoots him a glare, elbowing him hard in the ribs to shut him up.

“I see…” Fairy Godmother drawls, in a way that Carlos knows she really doesn't. “And why would you run, Carlos?”

It's his turn to stare, blinking in disbelief before quickly scribbling his response.

Dogs are evil.

The woman is rendered entirely speechless by that statement, while Jay is still breathlessly laughing beside him. Fairy Godmother stares at Carlos, like she's trying to decide if that's all his words are: a joke. But finally she nods slowly, pursing her lips and turning back to the board, taking in the remaining questions. She looks back to them, specifically Mal and Evie this time, and seems to come to a decision.

“Right. I believe we'll tackle the rest on your next lesson, tomorrow morning. Let's move on to a bit of history, shall we?”

When the bell finally rings an hour later, Carlos shoots out of his seat, but he's grateful this time. He's so fast that he's just behind Mal; who'd somehow anticipated the ring and risen a second earlier, and right before Jay; who grumbles as he gets up from his own seat. Evie stands slowly, swinging her handbag onto her shoulder and then wincing, but manages to recover gracefully.

“I suppose that concludes our introductory lesson for today.”

Those words are some of the best ones Carlos has heard all day, after that lesson. A whole hour of being taught the basic rules and history of Auradon life, and just exactly what it means to be ‘good,’ was even more mind numbing that brushing his mother's fur coats. He falls into place behind Jay as they make to leave the classroom, but the Fairy Godmother's voice stops them yet again.

“Children,” she calls.

Mal scowls, muttering a curse under her breath as well as the words ‘I am not a child,’ before turning back with an open expression. Carlos turns back as well, and instantly feels dread at the expression on the woman's face. It's that slightly pained motherly look that always meant something bad was going to happen. Cruella often sported that look just before doling out a punishment, usually along with the promise that it hurt her more than it hurt him.

“Before you go, it has come to my attention that some of you are injured, and so I have been asked to examine you for your well-being.”

There had never been a more dangerous phrase than ‘for your own good,’ and Carlos barely manages to contain his shivering. He wedges himself further behind Jay, who was about as stiff as the gargoyles on top of Maleficent's castle. Mal herself moves to the front of the group, frowning as she repeats: “Examine?”

She must have heard the hint of danger in Mal's tone, because the Fairy Godmother blanches slightly before hurriedly explaining. “Nothing invasive, of course! Just a simple magic spell, to check for any injuries and heal them if necessary.”

“Thank you,” Mal says, and though the words come easier to her than the rest of them, they still sound stiff and too polite. “But that won't be necessary.”

She smiles, and Carlos shivers to see it because it looks just like Maleficent's. It doesn't seem to affect the Fairy Godmother as much, or maybe she's just magically protected herself from being influenced by evil. Carlos thinks it might be the latter, given the way she still seems to be expecting something from them. He inches his hand over and tugs at the edge of Mal’s leather shirt. He starts to sign, but Evie stiffens suddenly, her eyes flickering as she draws a quick breath.

“Mal,” she whispers, and Carlos looks up with Mal to see Evie, pale as she leans one handedly against the desk beside them.

It would be a casual pose, if it weren't for the pain he can see etched in the lines around her eyes. He knows Mal sees it too because she grimaces, and sighs in resignation as she turns back to the Fairy Godmother.

“Alright,” she concedes, and Carlos feels a deep pang of fear as he takes in that motherly smile.

“Evie, dear,” Fairy Godmother says gently. “If you would follow me?”

She gestures towards the hidden door behind the podium that she had entered through, and Evie glances back at Mal. Mal nods once, her eyes sharp and calculating as she watches the Fairy Godmother lead her away. Only once they've both left the room does the long awaited explosion start. Jay slams his hand down against the nearest desk, cursing furiously. Carlos cringes back from the anger he's radiating, retreating closer to Mal, who drops all pretenses of the cold and fearless leader and begins pacing, eyes bright as she watches the door.

“What the hell was that, Mal?” Jay growls, his own eyes dark and fierce.

Carlos backs away another step, itching to run, but keeping his eyes on Mal. She paces a few more feet, ignoring Jay. He doesn't take kindly to the silence, and he crosses the space and forces himself into Mal's path. She jerks her head up sharply, and Carlos shrinks even further as her eyes flicker with green light.

“What. The Hell. Mal.” Jay repeats lowly.

“Jay,” Carlos whispers anxiously, but Mal holds up a hand, and he winces, falling silent.

“She wouldn't have made it,” Mal says simply, and though her voice is casual, her eyes are still sharp.

“Bull!” Jay snaps, and Carlos shuffles anxiously, his eyes darting to the door.

“Jay,” he whispers again, desperately trying to derail things before it escalated.

“Carlos,” Mal says, and he knows from her tone that his input was not wanted in this conversation. He bites the inside of his lip hard and backs away quickly, watching nervously from a few desks away. He knows Jay's anger is more about the lesson than actual anger at Mal, but he also knows first-hand that Jay's temper is nothing to be trifled with. Then again, neither was Mal's.

“Jay,” Mal continues once Carlos was out of the way. “You know as well as I do that Evie wouldn't have lasted any longer, and even though we're trying to fit in, our ultimate goal is getting that wand. And we can't do that if we're hurt.”

“Picking off the weakest link, then?” Jay challenges bitterly.

Something dangerous lights in Mal's eyes then, and Carlos is just beginning to debate diving under a desk for shelter, when the back door opens and footsteps echo. Mal and Jay both straighten, though Mal glares sharply at Jay, making a loose fist shape with her hand; her fingers folded over her palm and her thumb pressed tightly to the side of her index finger. She brushes her thumb along the underside of her chin, shaking her head once before opening her hands and placing them in front of her, palms up and facing her. She then twists her hands once in a short motion before dropping them quickly to her sides as Evie and Fairy Godmother make their appearance.

[Not over.]

Jay nods stiffly, his own eyes narrowed before he brings his attention back to Evie. Fairy Godmother pauses, seeming to take in the collective tension before she notices Carlos's position near the back half of the room. He freezes, praying she doesn't pick him next, but she turns to Jay, and he brushes past Mal before following the teacher out of the room.

Evie was still slightly pale, and breathless as she sits back down at a desk, but the pain is gone from her eyes, and her soft smile is genuine. At least, until she notices the scowl on Mal's face.

“What happened?” Evie asks, and Carlos isn't quite sure who she's asking, but Mal answers anyway, saving him the effort.

“Nothing. How did it go?”

Evie falters at Mal's short tone, and raises an eyebrow at Carlos. He shakes his head, silently warning her not to ask, and she turns back to Mal.

“It was ok,” she says slowly. “It didn't hurt or anything, but….” She drops her eyes to the table top, and both Carlos and Mal straighten, Carlos hurrying forward so he was closer to hear.

“But?” Mal presses, and Evie purses her lips.

“She kept asking questions,” Evie continues quietly. “Wondering how it happened, and what sort of things happened on the Isle to cause it.”

“Oh.” Mal's voice is dangerously blank, and Evie grimaces as she looks up at them.

“I didn't say anything, Mal; I'm not stupid. And she gave up when I didn't answer after a while. But I think she suspects-”

Evie's words are cut short when the door opens again, and Jay comes out, scowl still in place. It softens when he sees Evie, but instantly hardens when he catches Mal's eye. The Fairy Godmother is a little pale herself, but she composes herself and smiles…at Carlos.

“Carlos, dear,” she says, and Evie stands abruptly, both Mal and Jay instinctively shifting closer to him.

The look on Fairy Godmother's face is a mix of confusion and concern at their actions, and although Carlos is grateful for their help, he knows it will raise even more questions, none of which he could answer. He taps Mal on the shoulder and silently mouths, ‘It's ok,’ when she looks at him. She doesn't look happy, but she lets him go, and he makes his way across the room towards the Fairy Godmother.

The walk to the back room is the longest he's ever made, and he has a horrible flashback to a different place; a different time and a different person; but the similarities were there, and he has to fight the swell of panic that threatens to drown him in the memories of pain.

The room is small, and only has one wooden desk along the back wall. The rest of the space is filled with books, and the walls are decorated in the Auradon colors, and littered with what he assumes are supposed to be inspirational quotes and posters. He focuses on one: a sky blue background, with the picture of a lion cub hanging precariously from a dead tree branch. The cub is smiling, and the words Hang in there! are written just below him.

It's a disturbing picture, Carlos thinks. The cub should be screaming for help, given the stampede of deer below him. Maybe he was, and his situation had just been twisted around to provide some sort of entertainment. He shivers, feeling like he was going through the same thing; that his place here in Auradon was just one small twisted piece in a much larger plan.

The door clicks closed behind him and he flinches, jarred from his thoughts. He turns to face Fairy Godmother, but she's already walking towards him, and he turns back quickly, dropping his gaze to the floor out of instinct.

“Alright Carlos,” she says, and he can imagine the smile on her face even without seeing it. “I promise this won't hurt a bit.”

He's heard that before, but he doesn't dare lift his head. He can hear her moving somewhere in front of him, and then he feels a slight tickle, like tiny invisible fingers are brushing along his body. He shivers again, grimacing at the uncomfortable feeling. Instantly the feeling stops, and the Fairy Godmother speaks up.

“Does that hurt?”

It's so strange to be asked, and in a way that seems genuine and not just a sadistic way to determine how much more pain he could stand. He's so surprised by it that he almost blurts out an audible response, and he only just manages to contain himself, shaking his head and fiddling with his dog tail nervously.

“Let me know if it does start to hurt, alright dear?” She says, and he nods shakily.

The tiny hands resume their strange poking, and Carlos distracts himself by scanning the other posters. There's one with a crab that says ‘The seaweed is always greener in someone else's lake.’ He doesn't understand it at all, and he frowns, staring at another that just has a cloud on it and says ‘Reach for the sky!’ He's not sure if it's meant to be a threat, or an actual goal to be reached for. He'd just started reading one about life being better with smiles and songs when the tickling feeling stops, and he blinks, tearing his eyes away from the disturbing pictures.

“Well, Carlos,” he hears at last. “You're good to go.”

He feels an amused smile pull at his lips, and he keeps his head firmly lowered to avoid detection. He was far from ‘good,’ but he supposes it could have gone worse.

“I’m pleased to say that I didn't find any obvious injuries,” the Fairy Godmother continues, and something in her voice makes him tense. “Although I did notice several older ones that might not have healed quite right.”

He doesn't dare to breathe, every muscle taut and ready for some kind of fight or flight reaction. He knows exactly what she's referring to, and he has to remind himself that she thinks he's mute, that he doesn't have to worry about questions and answering them.

“I can't help but wonder…..”

He pales, debating if he should just run now, but then she catches herself, and he hears the door open behind him.

“Never mind, dear,” she says, and he gasps softly in relief, practically running past her and back to his group, free of the confines of the smaller space.

Jay and Evie stand when he appears, and Mal stops pacing, relief evident in all of their faces. He makes his way through the desks and wedges himself firmly between Jay and Evie, and only then does he let himself fully relax. Jay frowns down at him, an eyebrow lifting in curiosity.

“You ok?” Jay mutters, and he nods.

He makes a ‘five’ shape with his hands, touching his thumb to his chest before continuing; making a ‘C’ shape with his left hand close to his cheek, then bringing it against the upright palm of his right hand; finishing by lifting his left hand in a ‘C’ shape, then bringing his hand down in front of his face until it was level with his chest and the ‘C’ was now facing the ground.

[Fine. Pictures are strange/freaky.]

“Aw, poor pup,” Jay laughs, hooking his arm around Carlos’ neck and pinning him to his chest, viciously ruffling his hair with his fist. “Did all those horribly cheerful pictures scare you?”

Carlos flounders helplessly, his protests choked by Jay’s biceps. He can vaguely see Evie, shaking her head and trying to pretend they don’t exist, but Mal is giving them both a death glare, and Carlos struggles even harder to free himself. Jay is relentless, but Carlos finally succeeds in elbowing the larger boy hard in his ribs, and Jay pulls away, shoving Carlos for good measure.

Carlos scowls, panting as he catches his breath, his cheeks flushed as he tries to fix his hair. Jay was still doubled over laughing, and Carlos growls, kicking Jay's chair out from under him. He falls with a very satisfying crash, and it's Carlos' turn to laugh as he gains the upper hand.

Jay looks up at him, a positively evil glower on his face as he signs; his index finger and thumb pressed together in a circular shape, and his remaining three fingers straight out, pressed tightly against each other, the 'circle' part of his hand facing Carlos.

[Asshole.]

Carlos smirks, still snickering as he signs back; his index and middle finger in an inverted 'k' shape, with his thumb just visible between the two. He taps the tip of his middle finger against the tip of his nose before bringing his hand out into a modified version of Jay's sign; his thumb and index finger in a circle, but with the other three fingers separated from each other.

[Piss/Fuck off.]

Jay launches himself up from the floor, and Carlos is certain he's about to die when the Fairy Godmother clears her throat sharply from the front of the room.

“Gentlemen,” she says, and Carlos turns to see her frowning in disapproval at both of them. “I do not appreciate that kind of language in my classroom.”

They all freeze, and Carlos can feel the collective gazes of the group, but he can't help but stare at the Fairy Godmother, his mouth open in shock. He blinks, and then signs; pointing first to her, then bringing his hand up close to his temple in a fist, palm back. He then quickly lifts his index finger; like an 'ah ha!' moment, before lowering his hand and pointing at himself.

[You understand me?]

He feels a strange twisting rush in his stomach that he thinks might be panic, but then morphs into a kind of elation. He signs again; pointing to her, then repeating the 'ah ha' sign; ending by gesturing with his index fingers pointed towards each other at a slight angle, backpedaling them over each other a few times.

[You understand sign language?]

“Yes, Carlos,” she says with another patient smile, but he can see the tightness around her eyes that tells him it might not be so patient if she's pushed any further. “I do know sign language, to be able to reach all of my students. And if you prefer to sign in class rather than write, I see no reason why you shouldn't; and I will be sure to inform the other teachers as well so they are prepared.”

They're all a bit speechless, though he can see Mal narrowing her eyes, and Jay too is staring with a frown. He knows he should probably consider as well, that nothing came for free and he should figure out what this will cost him before accepting. But he finds himself nodding, face flushing slightly as he signs; pressing the tips of his fingers to his lips with his palm facing him, and pushing out towards the Fairy Godmother.

[Thank you.]

“You're very welcome, dear,” she says. “Though I don't want to see language like that again, is that understood?”

He nods again, holding his right hand in a fist at about waist level, index finger extended; he then makes the same hand shape with his raised left hand, and brings his left hand down onto his right, fingers at an angle to each other.

[Right.]

Satisfied that order had been restored, Fairy Godmother leads Mal off to the other room, and it's Jay's turn to pace in her absence. Carlos just sits with Evie, still a little mystified by everything that had happened so far, and wondering just what else they would face in a world where everything was made to be perfect. It's a strange sort of hope, but he can't help but think that maybe this could be a chance for something different. Something...good, if he dares to wish it. Of course, having thought that, he should have been better prepared for being proven wrong.

Chapter Text

 Ben

Watching the Villain Kids enter Fairy Godmother's classroom was like watching Audrey enter a store for a sale; nerve wracking, terrifying and chaotic, as he wondered if he'd ever see her alive again. He can't help but feel like he's sending them to their doom, and he has to tear himself away and focus on his own classes. But it's hard, his thoughts constantly drifting to the new arrivals, rethinking and analyzing every bit of information he's gleaned.

They were close, a very obvious and solid bond between them. It's a strange idea that villains could form more than just temporary alliances. When he'd chosen them, Ben had noted from their folders that they weren't often seen separate from each other; which was part of his reasons for choosing them. He had hoped that with their established bond, and if he kept them together, there would be a greater chance for them to be open to the ways of Auradon; if they could face it as a team rather than individuals with nothing in common.

And yet, he'd been so unprepared for what his decree had brought, and he finds himself thinking that maybe his father had been right and he was taking on more than he could handle. But he had made his decision-promised the Villain Kids a chance, and if his mother could see good in a hopeless situation, then so could he. He hoped so, anyway.

When the bell rings at the end of class, he's one of the first out of his seat, and he quickly makes his way down the hall towards Fairy Godmother's class. The door to the room bursts open before he quite reaches it, and the Villain Kids stride out; Mal in the lead, then Evie, followed by Carlos, and with Jay bringing up the rear. Jay is laughing about something, teasing Carlos, but they all quiet when he approaches. He notices with no slight displeasure that Jay is once again the only one to meet his gaze head on, the others all lowering their heads as if the floor is more interesting than his face.

“Hi,” Ben says awkwardly, and Jay lifts his chin in a short nod.

“Hey,” he says, and again Ben feels its resemblance to a challenge.

“So,” Ben drawls. “What did you think of your first class?”

“Oh it was great,” Jay says, nodding enthusiastically, and Ben gets the feeling he's not enthusiastic about it at all. “I especially enjoyed learning all the various methods of smiling politely.”

To demonstrate, he grins broadly at Ben, who shuffles anxiously, suspecting that he's missed something in this conversation and the other boy is in fact, threatening him. He's saved by Mal, who snorts quietly at the ground, a smirk playing on her lips as she chimes in.

“It could have gone worse.”

The rest of the kids all nod at that, even Carlos, and Ben feels a bit of excitement, thinking that maybe there's hope for getting the boy to open up after all. He smiles at them, allowing himself an amused chuckle.

“Well, I suppose that's all we can really hope for,” he teases, and he thinks he catches Mal smirk at him this time, but he doesn't dare turn his head to confirm and ruin the moment.

“The schedule will probably be a little different tomorrow,” he adds. “You'll have Goodness class first in the morning and then continue with the rest of your classes. We've divided you up, but you'll be in pairs for some of them; Mal and Evie will have a chemistry lab in the afternoon while Jay and Carlos have biology.”

“I'm guessing that's where you want us to go next?” Jay says, rolling his eyes, and Ben nods, pleased that he picked up on it despite the attitude. He's about to show them the way when the classroom door opens behind them, and Fairy Godmother steps out into the hall.

“Oh Ben, there you are,” she gasps. “I'd like to speak with you if you have a moment.” She glances towards the Villain Kids, and he nods his understanding.

“Sure,” he agrees quickly, turning back to the kids. “Sciences are on the next level,” Ben directs, motioning towards a board at the opposite end of the hall. “The map there can give you specific directions, and I'll catch up with you in a bit, ok?”

“Ok,” Jay drawls, and the others nod, departing quickly and quietly, almost in unison.

Ben shakes his head at the strange formation they seem to be making, before bracing himself and entering Fairy Godmother's classroom. The Headmistress herself is erasing the chalkboard atop her platform, and he catches a partial glimpse of one of the questions; using something for good, before it's gone in an ashy smear. Fairy Godmother looks up as the door closes behind him, and although she smiles, he knows this is going to be a ‘serious’ conversation.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Ben,” Fairy Godmother acknowledges, and he instinctively adopts a more formal tone himself.

“Of course,” he says, inclining his head. “I take it this is about our new arrivals?”

She nods, and gestures him towards a seat. He moves forward and sits, and she joins him at the table, folding her hands on top of the desk.

“How did they do?” he asks worriedly. “They didn't cause any trouble, did they?” Ironic, he thinks briefly.

“Oh no, they did remarkably well,” she assures. “I did however want to address some...concerns I had.”

He purses his lips, but nods for her to continue.

“I did a brief magical examination, as requested, and I noticed there were several varying injuries, all of them older, but a lot of broken bones.”

He frowns, his brow furrowing. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but the idea is still there; that something wasn't quite right. “Life on the Isle must be rough compared to ours,” he offers instead, and Fairy Godmother nods, pursing her lips.

“But their behavior was very strange,” she says. “I only managed to make it through half of my questions for them, and their answers were interesting, to say the least. Jay became upset when asked about a magic lamp. He made a remark about searching for a lamp his whole life, but said that if he ever did find one, he would hide it.”

“To use for himself?” Ben guesses, but Fairy Godmother shakes her head.

“So no one could use it, including his father.”

Ben raises his eyebrows, surprised. “And Carlos?” He prompts.

“He seemed of the belief that dogs are evil,” she replies.

“That...is interesting,” he says, and Fairy Godmother hums her own agreement.

“There was some rough housing from the boys,” she offers. “Though I did expect some kind of ruckus. Although, I did discover that Carlos knows sign language.”

“Really?” That caught Ben off guard, and he leans forward intently.

“I've told him he is free to sign in class if he wishes, and I've been informing the other teachers and members of staff, so they can be better prepared to incorporate him in class.”

Ben nods his approval, then sits back in his chair with a sigh, puzzling over all this information. “Honestly, I'm not sure what to make of them,” he admits. “They're not quite at all how I expected them to be.”

“I have the feeling we have a lot to learn about these children,” Fairy Godmother says. “Time will only tell just what that will entail.”

“Yeah,” Ben mutters. “We will see.”

“Oh, don't look so worried, dear,” she chides. “I think it's an admirable thing you're trying to do, and remember ‘Success isn't final, and failure isn't fatal. It's the courage that matters.’”

He thanks her for the advice and hurries to catch up to the Villain Kids as the first bell for the next class rings above. He had plenty of courage; a combination of his 'beastly' heritage and his mother's sheer force of will- or so he'd been told. He only hoped that would be enough, though he couldn't help but feel that even if his failure wasn't fatal, he owed it to the Villain Kids to show them that they could be more than just villains. For their sake, and maybe, even, for the entire kingdom.

 Kropp

Benjamin R. Kropp liked to consider himself a patient man. Teaching a school full of junior Princes, Princesses, warriors, and other nobility and hero types did require a certain temperament; and, after all, it was in his blood. His grandfather, Bernie Kropp, had once been teacher to a certain blond haired youth that had been notorious for his trouble making skills, somehow managing to get a tack on his father’s chair without being caught. It was a tale passed throughout the family, even to this day, as a reminder to always be watchful, and to never lose your temper. It gave the students the upper hand.

He was pleased to say that none of his students had managed to give him any cause to worry, although he made certain to run his classroom strictly and efficiently to keep it that way. They had all been raised right, his students, and he had yet to lose his temper.

And so, when Prince Ben had announced that he was allowing villains to attend Auradon Prep, well, he had to admit he had been more than shocked. It didn’t matter to him if they were children, they were still inherently evil. He was even further appalled when he’d learned that he would be expected to teach them, as well. The thought of it! Villains, in his class!

But he could not disrespect the young Prince by refusing, and so it is that he finds himself standing at the front of his classroom eyeing each student nervously as they enter and trying to pick them out from the crowd. Only two of the four the Prince had chosen would be attending his class, he’d been assured: the son of Jafar, and the son of Cruella de Vil. Not much of a reassurance, he thinks. Considering their heritage. And the de Vil boy, in particular…he would need to watch out for.

The remainder of his students shuffle in just as the final bell rings, but before the door can fully shut it’s slammed open again, and two teenaged boys stumble into the room. He needn’t have worried so much about finding them in a crowd. Even despite their late entrance, it is quite obvious who they are.

They have a wild, shifty look in their dark eyes, for one. And, for another, they aren’t wearing uniforms. The son of Jafar is clad in loose dark jeans, chains dangling from the pockets, his black combat style boots so very different from the polished dress shoes of his peers. His shirt is a faded red with no sleeves, and is covered by a leather jacket in varying shades of red and gold. The de Vil boy is wearing dark pants that are cut halfway up the leg with white stripes, and his shirt is black, covered with a leather jacket that is black on one side and white on the other, and when the boy turns around Kropp can see that the entire back of it is red, and lined with fur.

He frowns at the attire, certain that they had been given uniforms to wear. He makes a note to address them about it, and then clears his throat, drawing the class’ attention to him.

“Thank you for deciding to join us, gentlemen,” he says stiffly. “If you would be so kind as to take your seats, so we may begin class?”

Kropp notices that while Jafar’s son comes to some sort of attention and nods at his words, the de Vil boy stiffens and looks away, as though he couldn’t be bothered. Yes, he would need to keep a very close eye on him, indeed.

 Jay

It was Carlos’ idea, the race to class. The first warning bell had just rung above them, and they’re forced to duck into a side alcove to avoid the throngs of rushing princes and princesses. Jay wants nothing more than to take every advantage of the situation that he can, eyeing each colorful purse enviously as they pass just within his reach. But then Carlos loops his fingers through the chain on Jay’s belt, effectively using him as a shield against the masses, and by the time the throng diminishes and the grip on his belt loosens, he’s lost his chance of stealing anything.

“Alright, Ben,” he mutters, scanning the emptying halls warily. “Any day now.”

He feels Carlos tap his shoulder, and he swats at the other boy with blind irritation. Granted, it isn’t Carlos’ fault; while Jay and crowds generally mixed well, Carlos and crowds…well, Jay was his shield for a reason.

“W-we-we-we’re going to be late,” Carlos whispers in his ear, tugging at his jacket.

“Yeah, well, Ben’s not here yet,” Jay grumbles back, crossing his arms and stepping out of the smaller boy’s reach. “We don’t even know which way we’re supposed to go.”

Not that he really cares about making it to class. But the plan did involve fitting in, and it would be hard to do that if they weren’t even there.

“Armor?” Carlos says, and he turns around to see the other boy standing in front of a suit of armor, poking carefully at its breastplate.

Oh yeah. Ben had mentioned something about that.

“Let me,” Jay demands, shoving Carlos aside and rapping at the metal suit with his fist. “Hey, uh, armor dude,” he says.

‘Armor Dude?’ Carlos silently mocks beside him, but he ignores it and continues.

“Any chance you…know the way to biology?”

The suit’s visor on the helmet lifts, and a hollow, tinny voice rings out. “The Biology classroom is located on the second floor. Proceed down your current hallway to the left and take the stairs to the second floor. The classroom will be the third door down on your right.”

Then the helmet slams closed, and the second bell rings resolutely above them. Carlos glances at him, shuffling his feet, and Jay glances back down the empty hall to the room they had come from. Still no Ben. Class had started and they were most likely already late.

“Ok then,” Jay decides.

“W-we’re going?” Carlos asks softly.

“Might as well, right?” Jay says with a shrug, and Carlos’ face breaks into a sly grin.

“Rrrace you,” he cries in a low voice, and before Jay can even blink, he takes off down the hallway.

“Carlos!” Jay calls after him, but he receives a laugh in response, and he growls a curse under his breath before sprinting after him.

It’s not much of a race, really. Jay has the longer legs, and a better sense of direction, and while Carlos can be fast, Jay has endurance. By the time they reach the stairs, Carlos has fallen behind, and Jay easily jogs the rest of the way up the staircase. He pauses at the top, noticing that this hallway is much more crowded than the one below.

Students are still milling about, some of them even entering the classroom they had been looking for. Carlos huffs his way to the top of the stairs, and Jay dashes over, grabbing him before he could try and speak. Carlos yelps in protest, but Jay points to the bustling hall and he pales, nodding as he falls silent.

“Hurry up and catch your breath,” Jay warns, nodding towards the door that’s just beginning to swing shut.

Carlos straightens quickly, drawing a few slow breaths before nodding, and they rush through the doors only a couple minutes behind the last rush of students. The classroom is smaller than the Goodness room had been, but still spacious enough to hold twenty or so students; all organized in metal rows of desks and chairs, with the entire right wall comprised mostly of large windows.

Jay instantly notes that the only other exit aside from the door they’d entered through is a door beside the teacher’s desk at the front of the room. The teacher, Jay also notes, who is glaring at them like they’re a particularly disgusting stain he’d scraped from the bottom of his shoe.

“Thank you for deciding to join us gentlemen,” the teacher announces, but he says ‘gentlemen’ like it’s the worst insult he can think of. “If you would be so kind as to take your seats, so we may begin class?”

Kind, Jay thinks to himself. Us? But he realizes that the entire class is looking at them, and he knows that disdainful look the teacher is giving them. He straightens as respectfully as he can and nods, grabbing Carlos’ wrist and leading him to the only two empty seats, as the other boy had lowered his gaze the moment the teacher had started speaking.

Their seats are in the middle of the classroom, but all the way to the right by the windows. It wouldn’t have been a problem if it weren’t for the fact that the desks are like metal prison boxes, and shoved so closely to the wall that there’s almost no hope of making a quick getaway in either direction. He looks up at the teacher, and can tell by the satisfied look on the man’s face that it had been an intentional move, and Jay has to fight to keep from scowling back. So he was one of those teachers? Well there had been plenty of teachers like him on the Isle, Jay knew how to deal with teachers like this.

“Thank you,” the man says stiffly. “My name is Mr. Kropp,” he introduces himself, pointing to the whiteboard on the wall behind him, where his name and brief lesson plan is written in blue. “And let me assure you all right now, I will not tolerate any kind of shenanigans or hijinks in my classroom.”

Carlos chuckles quietly beside him, and even Jay feels his lips twitch at the man’s choice of words. Did he not realize how ridiculous it made him sound?

“Which means,” Kropp snaps shortly. “Carlos.”

Jay stiffens, and Carlos flinches, head firmly lowered and eyes glued to the desk.

“It is my understanding that you do not talk. Now, I must know, is it simply due to a lack of capability, or a lack of will?”

Jay clenches his hands into fists under the table, eyes narrow as he glares at the man. He did not just say that! Carlos is shaking, and Jay can’t tell if it’s anger or fear as he writes in his notepad before displaying it to the teacher; and the rest of the class.

I’m not lazy, Sir.

Jay smirks to himself at the particular way Carlos had underlined the word ‘sir.’ Who said you can't be sarcastic in writing? Kropp (what kind of name was that, anyway) narrows his eyes at them as though he’d read into the sarcasm as well, and Jay quickly wipes his face into a neutral expression.

“Well, then Mr. de Vil,” the teacher responds coldly. “I will expect you to participate in class, is that understood?”

Jay has to fight to keep from leaping to his feet, anger churning through him as Carlos pales considerably, his hands shaking as he writes on his pad.

Sir, Fairy Godmother had said that I would be allowed to sign in class.

“Perhaps in her class,” Kropp sniffs, and Jay’s hands tremble in fists beneath the table. “But in my class, I expect full participation from all of my students. I will not coddle you, as I’ve no doubt you are used to…”

Jay feels a shock go through his body, and Carlos jerks, as though he’d been struck. He’s blinking hard, and Jay is struggling with every fiber of his being to not snap and break something.

“…I will make no special accommodations,” Kropp finishes, glaring firmly at Carlos. “Is that understood, Mr. de Vil?”

The entire class is staring now, and Jay can see varying emotions reflected on their faces. Some share the same smug disdain as the teacher, while others look curious, though the majority is something close to disgust and fear.

Jay looks to Carlos and sees that his leg his bouncing up and down, the heel of his sneaker clicking silently against the leg of his chair. One of many nervous tics the boy had acquired over time, and a sure warning sign to just how badly he would stutter when he finally opened his mouth. Jay tries to catch his attention, to calm him down, but Carlos was already slipping.

“Is that understood?” the teacher repeats, and Jay shoots the man a glare full of undisguised hatred.

Carlos nods shakily beside him, swallowing hard as he tries to work his mouth to speak. Jay feels his breath catch in his throat, silently pleading for the words to come out right. ‘Come on, Carlos,’ he thinks encouragingly. ‘Deep breaths. Breathe. Focus.’

“Ye--” Carlos falters, catches himself, and then tries again, his voice barely a whisper. “Yes Ssir.”

Jay breathes a slow breath of relief, but Carlos is still pale, his chin practically tucked to his chest as he waits. Jay knows what he’s waiting for, and he looks to the teacher, desperately hoping that the slip wasn’t as noticeable as he feared. Clearly it wasn’t, because the man simply nods once, and turns back to the board, adding some notes to the ones already written.

The rest of the class settles, turning back to face the front of the room, but Jay notices that one; a pretty Chinese girl that he would definitely flirt with under different circumstances, is still staring at them, a weird look on her face. Jay glares challengingly back at her, and she looks away quickly, pulling a notebook with cherry blossoms decorating the cover from her bag.

Carlos slumps in his chair beside him, and Jay nudges him discreetly, glancing over worriedly. Carlos barely raises his head enough to meet Jay’s eyes, but he can still see the panic echoing there, and Jay subtly signs; making ‘five’ shapes with both of his hands, pressing them to his chest with one just above the other; lifting them away from his body in an expanding motion before bringing them back against his chest.

[Breathe.]

“It’s ok,” Jay whispers to him. “It’ll be ok.”

Carlos just shakes his head, staring miserably at the textbook on the desk in front of him. His foot is still anxiously tapping against his chair, and it would have been annoying if Jay wasn’t so worried. Not. That he’d ever admit that.

“Now that we’re all settled,” Kropp announces from the front of the room. “I’d like you all to turn to Section Five of your textbooks; page 394. We will begin with a simple introduction of genetics.”

Simple, Jay thought incredulously. The very first thing he was met with when he turned to page 394 was a complicated looking diagram, detailing the process of reproduction and just how to determine which traits were passed from parent to offspring. He hopes Carlos can decipher it, because he can’t for the life of him figure it out.

“What you see before you is a Punnett square diagram,” Mr. Kropp intones from the front of the room. Jay looks up to see that the teacher has drawn another version of the diagram on the whiteboard, though this one is blank.

“This diagram was created by a man named Reginald Punnett,” Kropp continues. “Developed from a theory created by a man named Mendal; detailing the concept of Mendelian Inheritance.”

And…Jay is officially lost. He stares dully out the windows, envying the students he can see milling about on the lawns and in the gardens outside. He almost wishes he was back on the Isle. Despite the harsh life and the cruelties of the world, it was a world he could make sense of. He doesn’t belong here, surrounded by perfect princes and princesses in training, learning about genetics and inheritance.

He watches Carlos scratching out notes in his book, his nerves still acting up and making his hand jerk minutely as he writes. Jay watches the frustration grow on Carlos’ face with mild amusement, and he perks up, a slow smile spreading on his face as he gets an idea. He leans over casually, his elbow lined up with Carlos’ arm, and just when he starts to write, Jay knocks into him; causing Carlos to jerk, the point of his pencil snapping audibly as a thick dark line smears across the page.

“Jay!” Carlos cries angrily, and Jay is too busy attempting to conceal his laughter to notice the sudden silence in the classroom.

“Is there a problem, Mr. de Vil?” Kropp asks, and both boys straighten, wiping their faces into blank masks.

“N-n-n-o Sir,” Carlos mutters, flushing as the ‘n’ sticks in his throat. Jay grimaces, regretting his prank instantly as he watches the teacher’s eyes narrow.

“Really?” he says, skeptically. “Then perhaps you would like to share your thoughts with the class. Based on the theories that Mendel and the Punnett square illustrate, what is the likelihood that such things also apply to certain characteristics between parent and offspring?”

“Ssir?” Carlos asks, his voice a squeak above a whisper.

“For example,” the teacher clarifies, and there’s a certain gleam in his eyes that had Jay on edge, watching carefully as he speaks. “The odds of a child being inherently good, or inherently evil, based solely on the parentage.”

There it was. Jay had known there was something about this teacher, but he was surprised at the level of hatred and disdain the man seemed to be radiating. It was almost impressive, really, considering that Auradon was supposedly so open and friendly. But Carlos is far from impressed, and Jay tries to sign again, to let him know that it was ok. Carlos stands slowly, his hands fidgeting with the chain links attached to his dog tail, eyes fixed somewhere near the floor.

“I think, wh-whi-whi-while it's possible for someone to be ggood or bbad based on ge-gennnetics, wh-who they are as a p-erson is decided by them.”

Jay clenches and unclenches his hands slowly under the table, trying to take deep breaths as scattered laughter and snickering goes up from the class. Carlos flushes and tries to take his seat again, but Mr. Kropp holds up a hand, silencing the class and pausing Carlos in his tracks.

“Would you care to clarify on that?” The man questions, adjusting his wire framed glasses minutely. “Preferably without the added sound effects.”

Another small scattering of laughter meets this suggestion, but Jay is grim and frowning, biting the inside of his cheek as he watches Carlos attempt to keep his words in check.

“Science can't deter-determine wh-o someone is,” Carlos says slowly, each word tight as he struggles to keep control. “They may be predi-predis... more inclined towards something based on genetics, bu-bu-but I don't think it's fair to pin something so-olely on that.”

He sits down quickly when he finishes, drawing a shaky breath and doing a better job than Jay at ignoring the chuckling and whispers that his choppy speech brings. The teacher frowns, though Jay hadn't seen him do anything other than frown since they had entered the classroom.

“Thank you, Mr. de Vil,” the man drawls slowly. “For that interesting view point. However, I do not appreciate the mockery; any further disruptions will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear?” His eyes narrow pointedly.

Carlos nods, his gaze once more glued to his book, but there's a hard set to his jaw, seeming to cast a shadow across his entire face. Jay knows that look; it's the look that earned Carlos the reputation as ‘callous’ back on the Isle. It's that look he gets when betraying his true emotions or feelings would get him killed. They all have their own versions of that look, but Carlos in particular had mastered it especially well, and it was downright chilling if you didn't know any better.

The teacher notices the look on his face and raises an eyebrow, as though he were the innocent one, while Jay seethes silently, wishing he had a pencil or something that could break in his hands right now.

“Is there a problem?” Mr. Kropp asks, and Jay fights to keep his words level, and free of curses as he answers.

“No Sir,” he says stiffly.

“Then shall we continue with the rest of the lesson? Unless there is something you wanted to add?” Mr. Kropp glances at them expectantly, and Jay shakes his head once sharply.

“No Sir,” he repeats.

“Carlos?”

Jay sees Carlos start to shake his head, but then the look on his face shifts, hardening even further, and Jay braces himself as he begins to speak.

“It's not exa-exactly something I can control, Sssir,” Carlos says quietly, and the whole class in on edge at his tone; respectful, but low and intense.

“I beg your pardon?” Mr. Kropp has his own tone, and Jay grimaces.

Well, fuck.

“I hhhave a st-stu-stutter,” Carlos explains tightly, his eyes flickering briefly as he slips before regaining their hard cast. “I-I-I'm not being disrrrespectful; my brain's just re-refusing to cooperate. I can't cont-rol it.”

Jay sees genuine surprise reflecting in some of the students' faces, but still others adopt a sly sort of sneer, or else continue to stare in disdain; as though they still hate the villain, even if he can't talk right. Mr. Kropp, however, has a steely look in his eyes, and Jay grits his jaw nervously. It's that look of a teacher who doesn't care what sort of problems his students have, he'll have order, without question.

“Well, Mr. de Vil,” he says, and Jay sees the shiver pass though Carlos' body, stealing his defenses with it. “I suggest you find a way to make your brain cooperate. I will not have the rest of my students suffer due to your lack of control, and I will not cater to the whims of a villain.”

Jay and Carlos both flinch, the smaller boy a shell threatening to shatter under the force of the teacher's words. The class is deathly still; a collective breath waiting to be released.

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Carlos whispers shakily, and there's a smug sort of satisfaction that crosses the teacher's face before he resumes his previous position.

“Now then, let's continue with the Three Laws of Mendel's Inheritance theory...”

Well fuck.

 The bell couldn't have run fast enough, and Jay is certain the rest of the class feels that way as well, as everyone lurches to their feet and scrambles desperately to get their things together. Jay slips smoothly from his chair, but he hovers, leaning easily against the metal desk and waiting for Carlos. The other boy is quiet, and his 'callous' look is back, but his eyes shine with emotion, and Jay knows the minute they reach their room that he's going to retreat again.

“You ok?” he mutters as they finally leave the classroom, following the herd of students outside and onto the sprawling green lawns.

“Perfect,” Carlos bites back, but he's not looking at Jay. He's staring anxiously across the yard to a section of picnic benches, where a small crowd is obviously waiting.

Jay scans the surrounding area, and realizes that there's no going around them, only through them. He frowns, his eyes narrowing in displeasure as he counts the crowd. “We can always go back,” he suggests.

“Weak,” Carlos mumbles, and Jay scowls.

“It's not weak; it's self-preservation.”

Carlos scoffs bitterly, and Jay knows he'd read through the lie. Jay would do just fine in a confrontation, and in the fight that would surely follow. Carlos was the real thing to being protected, and they both knew it.

“Dorms are pa-past them, an-an-anyway,” Carlos grumbles, and Jay nods in grim resignation as he realizes it's true.

“What do you want to do then?” he asks, turning to face the other boy, and Carlos hesitates before signing; tapping his chin twice with a 'four' hand shape; then touching his forehead with his index finger, swinging the tip of his finger forward; finishing with a point to himself.

[Talk for me.]

“You sure?” he starts to ask, but Carlos is already striding across the lawn, and Jay shakes his head. “Fucking shit.”

He quickly overtakes Carlos' shorter strides, but lets the other boy take the lead. Most of the students part and stumble out of their way, but there are those who close in further, staring in either curiosity or disdain. And the whispering doesn't stop; Jay glares each time he catches a sound, but the silence only lasts a few moments before the comments return. Carlos, for his part, does better at remaining unaffected. Until a certain smaller group of students breaks from the crowd, snickering as they block their way.

Jay instantly tenses, hands clenching into fists, but Carlos remains calm, staring coolly up at a boy with sandy brown hair, grey eyes, and sharp features that would have been handsome if it weren't for the sneer twisting his face. One of the boys in his group slams roughly into Carlos' shoulder, knocking the newly acquired textbooks from his hands, and spilling his bag across the lawn.

“Oops,” the boy says, and the handsome kid moves forward, stooping to pick up the books. His actions are polite, but the look on his face is anything but; a mocking imitation of concern as he straightens and looks at Carlos.

“Oh, I'm suh-suh-sorry,” he taunts, exaggerating as he mocks Carlos. “He just can't cuh-cuh-control himself.”

Jay growls, and stalks forward, but Carlos is signing; his brows lifted in genuine concern as he points to the boy; then he brings his left palm up and taps it twice in a 'chopping' sort of motion against his right palm.

[You alright?]

“What?” the boy snaps, sneering further. Jay quickly translates, searching Carlos' face for an explanation as he speaks.

“He wants to know if you're alright,” he explains, watching as Carlos signs again; pointing at the boy before tapping his ear twice; then bringing his fingers in a flat sort of cupping motion, he taps against his throat.

Jay finds himself grinning as he catches on, and he translates a little easier. “You sound like you're choking.”

Some of the other students laugh, but it's at the other boy, who looks flustered before regaining his composure; and his sneer. “No different than you sound, freak.”

Carlos' lips twitch a bit sardonically as he signs; a 'C' shape with his hand that he raises, then brings down across his chest; then with a flat palm he makes a sort of 'chop' in the air, before tapping his ear twice; then finishing with a backwards wave motion over his shoulder.

[Freak. Never heard that before.]

Jay laughs as he translates, and Carlos finishes gathering the rest of his things, his own mouth lifted into a cool smile as he faces the tormentors. Jay begins moving with him, preparing to cross the rest of the yard when the boy speaks again.

“You know you have a lot of nerve for a runt whose mom is a psycho.”

It's definitely not the worst thing they'd ever heard, but Carlos stops anyway, his smile freezing on his face. He turns his head, his eyes glinting darkly and speaking more volumes than Jay could ever translate. But he does anyway.

“Fuck.”

His curse brings startled gasps from some, but the focus is on Carlos and this other boy as they stare each other down.

“Coming here,” the boy continues. “With your entourage and your little guard dog here,” he jerks his head in Jay's direction. “Thinking that you could just walk on through and we'd all just cower and let you do whatever you want.”

“Chad,” someone says lowly, but the boy just sneers again.

Carlos is completely 'callous,' now as he turns back fully to face him, but before he can do anything else, two of the other boys from Chad's group rush him. Jay bites back the warning he wants to give, because while the boys are larger than Carlos, they're not fighters. Especially not when Carlos slides under one set of groping arms, using the momentum to grab and twist an arm behind its owner's back; an audible crack! filling the air and signifying a dislocated shoulder. And the second boy all but turns to stone when Carlos pulls his 'claw' from his back pocket: a small but deadly sharp dagger, so named 'Claw' because of its dark color and curved blade.

Carlos takes a challenging step forward and the students nearest him cringe back in terror. He raises an eyebrow at Chad, his lips twitching as though to say: 'You were saying?' Jay gives his own challenging grin from his place just off of Carlos' side, and Chad splutters furiously.

“Freak!” he hisses. “You really are as insane as your mom!”

Carlos' smile drops, his eyes gleaming just as darkly as his blade. The amusement fades from his face, his brows drawn in a way that hardens his expression into a cold and cruel mask.

“Woof,” he says harshly, and Jay is certain that no one needs a translation for that.

Bite me.

“Well shit,” he mutters with a grin as he takes in the anticipated (and really, predictable) uproar. “This just might be fun after all.”

Chapter Text

Ben

“You'd better come quick.”

The words are delivered by a frantic Doug and Lonnie, their eyes wide and full of panic. He tries to ask what's wrong, but a part of him already knows and begins conjuring up scenarios as he runs after them. Audrey rushes up from a hallway and meets him halfway, her eyes flashing and a hard frown on her face.

“Ben,” she begins, but he grabs her arm gently and pulls her alongside him midstride.

“I know,” he assures her quickly. “We're heading there now.”

“You know?” She repeats incredulously, and he starts at her anger. “And you're just now doing something about it?”

He looks to Doug and Lonnie for an explanation, but they but look away, grim looks on their faces.

“I mean,” Ben says slowly. “I know there's a situation...”

“That's one word for it,” Lonnie mutters from in front.

Ben feels dread coiling in the pit of his stomach as he glances at their expressions. They're all variants of the same thing; fear, worry, and anger. But even the anger is just a front; at least, on Audrey it is, but Lonnie...

“Can someone tell me?” He asks.

Doug answers jerkily. “Jay and Carlos...”

He says their names like...like they're villains, and Ben falters as they near the overpass above the picnic area. He can hear the noise now; a combination of screaming and swearing, and he doesn't know what he wants this to be. To not be.

“It wasn't just them,” Lonnie argues. “I was there when it started; when Chad started.”

Ben realizes that her anger wasn't directed at anyone in particular, but at the situation in general. But it does little to calm his panic, especially when he steps out onto the overpass and sees what’s happening. The green is a mess; students crowding the area, some running in terror and others trying to join the fray.

Picnic tables and benches have been flung up like shields in the places closest to the center of the gathering, while farther out from the group they’ve been overturned and shoved hastily aside as people retreat. He can make out Chad and a few others from the Tourney team nearest the center, the main force trying to calm the tide; but whether it’s by fighting or joining in the panic, Ben can’t quite tell.

And there, at the center of it all, is Jay and Carlos. They stand back to back, completely pressed against each other in defensive poses, and even from this distance Ben can see the wild looks in their eyes. They meet each forward press of students with an attack of their own, never retreating, but not openly attacking either. Jay has his hands up in fists close to his face, and something dark glints in Carlos’ hands.

“Wait,” Ben says, peering closer in horror. “Is that a knife?”

“Dagger,” Lonnie corrects, as the rest of his group reach his side. “There’s a difference,” she insists at their questioning looks, but Ben isn’t concerned with what the weapon is or isn’t.

“How did he get a knife into Auradon?”

Lonnie sighs in disappointment, shaking her head, but it’s Doug who answers, adjusting his glasses to peer sternly at him.

“Well, we didn’t exactly do a weapons check when they arrived.”

Right, that was on him. He hadn’t wanted to make the arrivals any more uncomfortable than they already would have been on entering the kingdom, and at the time, he honestly didn’t think such a thing was necessary. A paranoid precaution. He wanted to establish trust.

And that trust was the very thing that was going to get everyone down there hurt. Or…no, he couldn’t start thinking like that. He had to get down there and regain control.

“I’m going down there,” he announces, and before he could hesitate and get any sort of sense talked into him, he jogs down the overpass ramp and onto the field.

The noise and fear is even more overwhelming up close, but Ben forces himself to stay calm. It wouldn’t do to feed into it and lose control himself. He straightens and adopts his Prince demeanor, and most of the students on the outskirts settle and move out of his way as he approaches. He reaches the center and manages to catch Carlos’ eye first.

The smaller boy freezes, and Ben watches the confident and dangerous smile slowly fall from his face. His eyes lose their wild look and a different sort of wild fills them now; like a trapped animal. His knife/dagger clangs against the bench beside him as it drops from his hand, and Jay jumps, turning sharply to face the newest perceived danger.

Jay, too, freezes, and his eyes widen, darting around nervously before settling on Ben. He seems to take in the way everyone is looking to him; the authoritative way he stands, and Ben watches the realization hit him.

“Fuck me,” he breathes, straightening from his defensive pose.

Ben raises an eyebrow, caught off guard by the curse. “Language, Jay,” he says, and it occurs to him that he sounds just like his father. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Shit,” is all Jay manages, his dark hair falling across his face as he shakes his head in disbelief.

Carlos is completely frozen, his head once again lowered to the ground, standing behind Jay in a way that looks painfully too much like he wants to throw himself at Ben’s feet and grovel. It sends a pang through him, and he looks around to see that everyone is staring at them expectantly. He clears his throat and addresses the crowd in his best attempt to appear like he knows what he’s doing.

“Everyone please continue on to your next classes,” he directs. “There’s nothing to see here.”

A disappointed and almost skeptical sort of murmuring goes up from the crowd, but they all begin to leave, in a much more orderly fashion this time. He turns back to see Jay and Carlos attempting to make a subtle retreat, and he sighs, shaking his head.

“Not you two,” he says, stopping them in their tracks. “And Chad…” he says, catching sight of the boy on the edge of the crowd. “And Lonnie,” he turns again to face his friends; the only ones still standing there.

“Me?” Lonnie questions, her eyes warily scanning the villain kids behind him. “Why me?”

“You said you saw what happened,” he replies, and she nods reluctantly.

“The beginning of it, anyway,” she adds.

“Then let’s take this to Fairy Godmother,” he announces.

As he leads the way back across the lawn and towards the school, his princely resolve begins to fade, and all the worry and doubts begin churning their way to the surface. By the time they reach the Fairy Godmother’s classroom, he’s about as nervous a wreck as Carlos, who hadn’t stopped shaking since Ben had appeared on the lawn. He manages to regain enough composure to explain in a calm undertone to the startled headmistress, exactly what was happening.

Fairy Godmother pulls a chair to the front of the room and sits; Jay and Carlos take the table in front of her to the left, while Lonnie and Chad take the one on the right. Ben, for his part, does his best not to start pacing as he stands in the aisle between them.

“Ok,” he says slowly, clasping his hands together. “Someone start explaining what happened.”

And then all hell breaks loose.

Carlos

The concept of being “in trouble” was a strange one on the Isle of the Lost. Stealing, looting, killing; any and all sorts of ‘bad’ things were allowed and even condoned. Depending on who those actions were directed towards. It was funny: the Isle held all the worst of the worst villains, but it also held the sidekicks; the only slightly insane antagonists; the random thief exiled for his crimes. The henchmen. The neighborhood sociopath who wasn’t really ‘evil,’ but wasn’t ‘good’ enough to live in Auradon.

Normal people, if you wanted to compare residents. Commit a crime against them, sure they'd be upset about it, and it was a ‘good’ thing, but also not really a big deal. Commit a crime against a villain, though. Then you were a force to be reckoned with; someone who was asking for trouble.

For Carlos, trouble didn’t really come naturally to him like it did with Mal. He couldn’t slip into it like a second skin as Evie did. It wasn’t an old friend like it was with Jay. For him, trouble was the annoying brat’s stupid dog; hounding him relentlessly, forcing him to either run faster to escape it, or else give in and hope for a merciful death.

‘Mercy’ was also a twisted concept. It usually varied between a horrifying and excruciating pain, and a slightly less horrifying thing that would most definitely scar you, but leave you alive. It also varied on which was worse.

Being ‘in trouble’ meant the plan had failed, you didn’t execute a scheme properly and the intended victim escaped. Disobeying an order. Another funny paradox, that.

Carlos had never been ‘in trouble’ for pulling a knife on someone though. He’d never feared retribution for a well-deserved broken arm or a dislocated shoulder. Although, he’d usually been on the receiving end of such actions. Usually. But he hadn’t been known as a “callous, low life hood” for nothing. He’d earned his way, and had the scars to prove it.

Here in Auradon, though, ‘in trouble’ meant just that; and regardless of whether the trouble was for being good or being bad, pain usually followed in some form of punishment. It’s that idea, more than anything, that has Carlos trembling as he huddles in the wooden chair. The Fairy Godmother is stern as she stares at him, and she isn’t smiling anymore. He almost wishes she would. Even a perpetually cheerful smile was better than the look she was giving him now.

Jay sits frowning next to him, his arms folded across his chest, but his fingers tap against Carlos’ arm from beneath the crook of his arm. Carlos knows he’s trying to let him know that it would be ok, but he also knows that it’s anything but. He had pulled a knife- a knife- on an unarmed and defenseless Auradon student. Granted, the kid had been an asshole, but Ben had seen. Prince Ben, the very one who had made the decree to bring him here, had seen Carlos de Vil, threatening his subjects with a knife.

“Calm down,” Jay mutters in his ear. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

Carlos blinks, breathing shallowly. His body feels cold and clammy, and he realizes only vaguely that he’d been on the verge of hyperventilating. He swallows slowly, taking a deep breath and trying to pull himself together.

“I-I’m ok,” he whispers back.

Or at least, he had been. Until Ben clasps his hands together like he’s delivering a death sentence as says, “Someone tell me what happened.”

Instantly, noise explodes, as Jay, Chad, and the pretty Chinese girl from biology all start clamoring at once, each trying to explain. Carlos squeezes his eyes shut, cringing deeper in his seat as the words and syllables pound against his skull in a frantic rhythm. Then silence falls, and he looks up to see that Ben has his hands raised in a clear gesture for order.

“One at a time,” he says sternly. “Lonnie.”

Ben looks to the Chinese girl, who looks caught off guard before she draws a breath and stands slowly from her seat. Carlos feels only a brief flicker of curiosity, and he wonders whose child she is, and thinking if any of the villains he knew on the Isle had complained about a Chinese hero.

“Lonnie says she saw the beginning of what happened,” Ben explains to the Fairy Godmother, before turning and nodding encouragingly to the girl.

“Well, it actually started with biology,” the girl says quietly. “Mr. Kropp…,” she falters, and Carlos can tell she’s trying to be diplomatic.

“Is an arrogant, prejudiced bastard,” Jay helpfully supplies in an undertone. Carlos stifles a laugh, but in the silence of Lonnie’s musing, everyone hears Jay’s comments.

“Language, Jay,” Fairy Godmother scolds, and though her voice is calm, the solemn way she looks at them makes Carlos flinch.

“He was afraid,” Lonnie finally continues. “That having Carlos sign in class would cause an unnecessary disruption, and that, as long as he was capable to, he wanted Carlos to actively participate in class.”

“Unnecessary my ass,” Jay grumbles.

“But I made sure all the teachers knew…,” Fairy Godmother begins, but it’s Ben who finishes.

“Carlos can’t talk.”

Carlos keeps his gaze firmly on the desk in front of him, tracing the patterns the wood makes in the grain. He hears Chad scoff, and he flinches at the cruel sound.

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong.”

Carlos stiffens, shrinking as much as he can in his seat and wishing he could turn invisible. He knew Evie knew a potion for it, and surely Mal knew a spell; heck, even Jay could wish himself invisible on the chance he found a magic lamp. He wonders, not for the first time, why he’s the only one of the group not magically inclined. Instead, he gets the psychopath mother who wants to kill cute animals for clothes.

“Carlos?”

He flinches, jerked from his thoughts and back into the moment, where everyone is staring at him expectantly. He looks to Jay desperately, but the look on the other boy’s face clearly says that this is up to him. Looking up even further, he sees Ben staring at him, and the look on his face is a mix of concern and disbelief. Behind him, Lonnie echoes the concern, but there’s also a hesitance; a wariness. And Chad…Chad’s expression is smug and confident in Carlos’ failure, and Carlos shivers, lowering his gaze to the desk and shaking his head slightly.

He hears Chad scoff again, but Ben clears his throat and the laugh stops. He isn’t sure whether the way his stomach flips is due to relief, or fear, but Ben speaks again before he can fully decide.

“Jay?” he asks, and Carlos can feel Jay stiffen beside him, and his fingers tap a little more incessantly against Carlos’ arm.

He looks over, and Jay signs quickly; making an ‘O’ shape with his fingers before making a ‘K’ with his index and middle finger; he then tilts his head slightly and lifts his brows before placing the tip of his index finger against his chin, flipping it forward and in the direction of the watching crowd.

[Ok if I tell them?]

Might as well, Carlos thinks bitterly, but he manages to keep it off his face and portray it to Jay with a simple eye roll. Jay huffs at the sarcasm, but straightens and turns to Ben, and Carlos tenses again in his chair.

“Carlos has a stutter,” Jay announces shortly. “It’s why he doesn’t talk.”

Carlos is grateful for Jay’s bluntness, for once. It gets the point across, while also effectively shutting down any prying questions. But it doesn’t stop the reactions, and he grimaces at Ben and the Fairy Godmother’s simultaneous noises of surprise and realization. He waits for the questions or even judgements, but it’s Lonnie who speaks up and regains control.

“Yeah,” she confirms quickly. “Um, so when Carlos participated…anyway, it was after class. We were all on the lawn and some of Chad’s group were making jokes about it. And then Jay and Carlos showed up; things kind of escalated from there, and then….”

“And then they totally flipped out and attacked us!” Chad cuts in, his voice pitched in a whine. Carlos snorts derisively, and Jay stands sharply, slamming his hands onto the table.

“Bull. Shit!” he snaps, and Carlos can’t help the small smile that slips across his face as he looks up to see the scandalized look on Chad’s face at being cursed at. But it falls again when he sees the stern expression on the Fairy Godmother’s face, and he grabs Jay’s jacket, tugging him to try to get him to back down.

“Oh, so you mean Carlos didn’t dislocate Emil’s shoulder?”

“It’ll pop back in,” Jay counters smoothly. “Trust me, there’s a lot worse than a dislocated shoulder.”

“And I guess pulling a knife on Kory; that’s no big deal either, right?”

“Listen, asshole,” Jay starts, and Carlos knows he has to stop him before he explodes.

“Jay,” Carlos hisses, tugging harder and forcing him back down into his seat. “Th-that’s ennnough.”

He appreciated Jay’s blunt defense, but not at the risk of making things worse. Jay sits, but Carlos knows he’s far from finished.

“Asshole,” he grumbles under his breath, crossing his arms sullenly.

Ben clears his throat again, and Carlos stiffens as he waits for the verdict. “Yes, about the knife,” he says slowly. “Um, we’re going to have to confiscate that from you.”

Carlos sucks in a sharp breath, and Jay starts muttering curses furiously under his breath, but Ben’s not done yet.

“Jay, we’ll need any weapons you have too. And Mal and Evie.”

“Yeah, you try and take Mal’s knives,” Carlos hears Jay murmur. “Love to see how that works out for you.”

But all Carlos can think is that it was happening again, and he trembles as he takes out Claw, placing it on the desk before him and waiting for the next part. The pain part.

“Thank you Carlos,” Ben says formally. Then, “Jay?”

Jay scoffs, but reaches into his pockets and out turns them. “Got nothing but my fists,” he says stiffly, before returning his pockets to their normal shape; re-concealing a small leather bag with an easy sleight of hand.

“Alright then,” Ben begins, but Chad jumps up, and Carlos flinches as his chair scrapes harshly across the floor.

“Wait that’s it? Just take away their weapons and call it a day? They attacked us Ben!”

“I know,” Ben says, and his voice is understanding but still that stiff and formal tone of a Prince. “But it was a situation that, according to Lonnie, you started.”

“Which is why,” the Fairy Godmother breaks in sharply from the front of the room. “Chad, you will be serving detention with me, every day after school for a week. Perhaps you can help me go over lessons in Basic Human Decency.”

Jay stifles a snort, and even Carlos manages a weak smile as he listens to Chad splutter in disbelief.

“What?!”

“And I will be writing to your mother about this incident,” Fairy Godmother finishes firmly.

“What about them?”

Carlos glances up to see Chad glaring at him, and he knows he really means, ‘what about the de Vil freak?’

“We will deal with them,” Fairy Godmother says, and Carlos shivers at how ominous it sounds. “I think for now, you should worry about getting to your next class. I will see you later this evening.”

Chad complains even further, but eventually he storms his way out of the room, leaving only Ben, Jay, Carlos, the Fairy Godmother, and Lonnie, who shuffles nervously.

“Um, should I…?” she gestures vaguely to the door, and Ben nods.

“Yeah, you can go. Thanks Lonnie.”

“Sure thing,” she mutters, then leaves quickly, the door closing behind her and echoing with a forbidding tone as it clicks firmly into place.

Jay stands the minute she’s gone, while Carlos goes back to trying to disappear, shrinking down into his seat as much as he can.

“Look,” Jay says quickly. “It wasn’t Carlos’ fault. I’m the one who started the fight, ok? He was just…there.”

“He attacked and injured two of my students,” Fairy Godmother says slowly, and Carlos bites the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes iron.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Jay insists. “If someone has to be punished, it should be. I’ll take his.”

“Nno, Jay,” Carlos tries to stand as well, but Jay shoves him back down, shooting him a glare.

The glint in his eyes looks angry, but Carlos knows well enough to see that it’s concern and fear. The Fairy Godmother makes a soft sound, and Carlos glances over to see her look up and exchange a glance with Ben above their heads.

“You will both be serving detention with me, as well,” Fairy Godmother says. “Two weeks. You’re already attending Goodness Class, but extra lessons wouldn’t hurt.”

“Ok,” Jay says slowly, and Carlos can tell from his tone that he’s steeling himself, too. “And?”

Neither of them bother to protest their two week sentence vs Chad’s one week. They’re both certain there’s more to come.

“An apology to Emil and Kory wouldn’t hurt,” Ben offers, moving into their line of sight.

Carlos nods reluctantly, but inside he’s wondering if they’d pegged this wrong. Maybe things really were different in Auradon, and this was actually a punishment. He doesn’t dare to hope, and instead waits for Jay to press and confirm it.

“But…detention, the weapons, an apology. Really? That’s really it?”

Ben has another weird look on his face, and he turns to Carlos, who drops his gaze to his knife. He works to memorize every single detail about it before it’s taken from him, dutifully avoiding Ben’s look as he asks:

“What more were you expecting?”

Ben

Things were different on the Isle of the Lost. Auradon wasn’t the Isle. Things were different. It’s a mantra Ben has to keep repeating to himself as he and the Fairy Godmother listen to what had happened in the school yard. He tries to think of things from Jay and Carlos’ perspective, and speculates that confrontations like this must happen all the time; that threatening someone with a knife could be considered self-defense at best and something that could be considered good at worst.

He tries to keep their sentence light, at least, as light as could be made considering it had been a knife, and that the whole thing could have been avoided if he’d fully thought things through like his father had insisted. But watching Jay and Carlos’ reactions, you’d think Ben was sentencing them to death. Or at least, that they expected him to.

The thought is disturbing, as he wonders what sort of things constituted as punishments on the Isle, or if there was any set of rules for a thing to be judged ‘wrong’ by. It would almost be amusing, thinking of a rule system for villains, but the way Jay leapt his feet, insisting that he was to blame and that he would take any punishment given to Carlos; the way Carlos cowered in his chair like he wanted it to swallow him whole. The way Jay stared at him when Fairy Godmother had announced their punishment, how he pressed for more like…like what?

“What more were you expecting?” Ben asks carefully, and Jay sort of scoffs in disbelief.

“You’re serious,” he mutters, and Ben thinks he might be talking to himself. “Of course, this is Auradon but detention is really the worst…”

Jay falters, seeming to realize what he’s said. He glances at Carlos and there’s a frantic and silent discussion in sign that Ben doesn’t quite catch, but Ben does catch the expression on Carlos’ face and there’s something desperate in his eyes, almost fearful. It dawns on Ben, then, that there must be such a thing as rules and punishments on the Isle, and he recalls the bruises; the worried explanations from Fairy Godmother about broken bones. He takes in the panic and worry on Jay’s face; how Carlos is so pale Ben fears he might collapse.

‘Detention,’ he had said, but what had they heard?

“Carlos,” Ben says quietly, because he knows he won’t get a straight answer from Jay, and the smaller boy is just so terrified. “What is it that you’re expecting from us?”

Jay stiffens, but says nothing, dropping his head in such an uncharacteristic gesture of submission that it startles Ben. Carlos shudders once in his chair, but slowly lifts himself into an upright position. His hands tremble as he rolls back the spotted sleeves of his shirt, but he finally succeeds and places his hands on the table, palms up and arms facing Ben.

It takes Ben a moment to realize what he's seeing, but when his eyes and brain finally decipher it, he wants to be sick. Scars, some thick and jagged, others thin and wiry, mar the pale skin of Carlos’ forearms. They cross and run parallel to each other in some places, forming a strange sort of pattern, and with a sickening lurch another realization clicks into his brain. Words. They’re words carved into Carlos’ skin.

Names. Taunts. Horrible curses and letters spelling out things too vile to even comprehend.

Ben hears Fairy Godmother gasp behind him, but he's too busy searching for an explanation, fighting the churning in his gut. Carlos is trembling, his eyes glued firmly to the table in front of him, and so Ben looks to Jay.

“What?” Is all Ben manages to choke out, and Jay's eyes are hard, his voice tight as he answers.

“Just another happy side effect of the Isle,” he says, then he seems to remember who he is talking to and grimaces, looking away and muttering. “Specifically a side effect of school rules and punishments.”

“Detention,” Carlos whispers from his seat, and Ben understands their sudden fear, and why Jay had been so desperate to take the blame. But just what sort of thing could possibly justify something like that? Nothing could, and he wants to ask, but he knows he's already lost control of the situation, and adding onto it by prying into the past won't help any.

“Things...things aren’t not like that here,” he says firmly. “Auradon is different.”

It's a hollow comfort, but the best he can do, given the current circumstances. The words and apologies that Ben wants to say have no place here, especially not with his standing as Prince of the very kingdom that had doomed them to such a fate. He knows that's what Jay thinks, with his curses and betrayed anger, and Ben can't find it in himself to blame the boy.

He might not have been responsible for their banishment, but he was responsible for their redemption. The villain kids were his subjects now too, and Ben vowed he'd do everything in his power to make sure that things were different here. It wouldn't be an easy task to accomplish, but he would make it work. He owed them that much.

Carlos

Run.

That was the only thought that solidified itself in the boy’s mind. Run. Get away. Faster than them. He was faster, he knew he was but he had to hide. Hide. Somewhere small, somewhere safe, where they couldn’t find him. Couldn’t hurt him if they couldn’t see him.

Carlos.

Run! There, wait!

Gonna get you, freak!

Don’t look back. Don’t look back just go. Squeeze into the space and it’s small, perfect. Dark and cold, but small enough to hide him.

Where are you, brat?

Don’t speak, don’t speak. Not a sound, not one sound, they’ll hear She will hear.

“Don’t hide from me, Carlos!”

Carlos.

Don’t move. Don’t breathe don’t move no sounds. She can’t catch him, she can’t.

‘Sorry,’ he thinks, rocking in his hiding space. ‘Sorry, I’m sorry, please.’

“Carlos, don’t hide from Mommy…”

“Sorry,” he whimpers, “Sorry ssorry please, I’m ssorry.”

Mal

Mal isn’t happy when she finds out about the fight in the yard. Well, there’s a small part of her that feels a thrill of amusement at the knowledge that some of the prissy Auradon princes had gotten their asses handed to them. But that amusement boils down to anger at the fact that it had been Jay and Carlos who’d done it, and even more so when she is told that her knives were being taken from her, and Evie was losing her potions as a ‘precaution.’

All in all, Mal is pissed, and she only vaguely relishes the crowds that scramble away in terror as she stalks through the dorms, Evie close on her heels. Room number 17 appears in her line of sight, and the door slams open with a satisfying boom. The room is larger than hers and Evie’s, the walls dark stone instead of pink and white wallpaper. But most of the features were the same, including the massive fireplace set against the far left wall.

None of that matters to Mal though. She spots Jay fiddling with something by the entertainment center, and instantly storms over.

“Where is he?” she snaps, and Jay straightens, holding out his hands in a futile attempt to calm her.

“Mal,” he begins slowly, and she curls her lip in disgust.

“Don’t ‘Mal,’ me, Jay,” she growls. “Where is he?”

“So dramatic, M,” she hears Evie mutter, but she keeps her focus on Jay, glaring until he relents and points to the fireplace.

Mal stalks over to the opening in the wall and places a hand on the hearth, bending down to peer inside. It’s dark, but there’s enough light in the room behind her that she can make out a vague outline huddled in the corner.

“Carlos,” she snaps, and the shape jerks. She thinks he tries to say something, but all that comes out is a frantic whimpering sound.

Great. She backs out of the fireplace and turns on Jay, her anger diminishing only slightly as she asks, “How long has he been in there?”

Jay looks to the clock on the table and frowns thoughtfully. “20 minutes?” he says, shrugging, and Mal narrows her eyes.

“I’m giving him 30 and then I’m dragging his sorry ass out here,” she decides. “In the meantime, Jay,” she sits on the edge of the spare bed next to Evie. “A fight? What part of ‘lay low’ didn’t you get?”

Jay at least has the decency to look ashamed, grimacing as he starts to pace. “I’d say it wasn’t my fault, but….”

“No,” Mal agrees. “It was yours and Carlos.’”

“Mal,” Evie scolds, but she doesn’t care if she’s being harsh. No, that’s not entirely true. But damn it all, she’d told him…

“It wasn’t really, though,” Jay cuts in. “I started it. If I hadn’t pranked him in class, the teacher never would have called on him, and no one would have heard him slip up for those assholes to make fun of him.”

“Wait,” Mal says, holding up a hand to stop his tirade. “The teacher called on Carlos to speak in class?”

Jay grimaces, but nods, and Mal’s frowns sharply. “What happened to the signing? Fairy Godmother said….”

She doesn’t want to admit how easily she had trusted the woman’s promise, but Jay nods again, a hard look in his eyes, and Mal leans forward to hear his explanation.

“Yeah, she did say. But the teacher said, and I quote, ‘I will not coddle you, as I’ve no doubt you’re used to,’ and ‘I will not cater to the whims of a villain.’”

The nasally accent Jay had adopted to impersonate the teacher did nothing to keep the man’s words from registering, and Evie gasps sharply beside her. “What?”

“What?” Mal repeats, her voice hard.

“Yeah,” Jay confirms. “Those exact words. Not to mention his whole thing about biological squares and children being genetically evil.”

“What?” Mal hisses dangerously, while Evie straightens beside her.

“Details,” the other girl presses, and Jay explains the entire classroom situation to them. By the time he’s finished, Mal is pacing, swearing furiously under her breath, and Evie looks ready to kill.

“So,” Evie says darkly, and Mal can hear the scheming tone in her voice. “It sounds to me like the real problem is this teacher, Mr. Kropp.”

Mal hums noncommittally, but her own gears are turning as well. What’s the worst thing they could do to him without it leading back to them, and what could they do that would ensure no further trouble for Carlos? She had answers to both of those things; the former, more so than the latter, but nothing that worked to solve both solutions in one. They could always do two separate acts, but if they hadn’t been caught by the first, then the second would certainly lead back to them…

“I think we ought to let him have a taste of his own medicine,” Evie continues, and Jay chuckles wickedly in agreement.

“Nothing lethal,” Mal mutters, glancing at the bedside clock and frowning.

“Aw, come on!” Jay protests, and even Evie looks disappointed.

“Mal,” she says. “What he did to Carlos; to us…we can’t let that slide.”

“And we won’t,” Mal promises. “Believe me, he will get all he deserves and more when we get that wand. But in the meantime: nothing lethal.”

“Fine,” Evie concedes, and Mal nods, satisfied, before turning to the fireplace.

“Alright,” Mal says sharply. “I’m dragging him out.”

“I thought you said 30,” Jay says. “It’s only 25 now.”

“I changed my mind,” she mutters, stalking over to the fireplace and bending down to peer inside.

Carlos was still huddled in the corner, but the whimpering had stopped, at least. She takes that as a good enough sign as any and slaps her palm against the hearth a few times.

“Carlos!” she snaps, and the boy jerks back with a yelp, slamming his head against the stone behind him.

“Ah!” he gasps, uncurling slowly and grimacing. “Sson of a b-itch!”

“Yes you are,” Mal says glibly, but she’s silently relieved that he hadn’t retreated so far that he’d completely lost himself. “Get out here,” she continues. “We need to talk.”

She backs away slightly from the fireplace, allowing the smaller boy to crawl out of the space, easily ignoring his grumbling.

“Sscrew ta-ta-talking,” Carlos mutters, glaring as he peers up at her.

“You shouldn’t swear, Carlos,” Mal scolds him lightly, patting the soot from his white-blond hair. “It’s very unbecoming, and besides, by the time you’ve finished cursing someone out, it’s completely ineffective.”

“This ine-ine-ineffective?” Carlos challenges, flipping her off as he dodges her hands, moving across the room to sit beside Evie on the bed.

“Very,” Mal warns, her eyes flashing as she glares at him.

He cringes, his own eyes lighting with fear, and she hates the way it makes her want to apologize. She latches on to her previous anger, but continues in a slightly more subdued tone.

“Do you want to explain why you started a fight when I clearly said lay low and follow the rules until we get the wand?”

Carlos tucks his knees to his chest and shakes his head, his eyes shining and only just visible as he peeks up at her. “Didn’t,” he mumbles into his knees, and she frowns at him.

“Didn’t what?”

“Sstart,” he whispers.

“Don’t give me the one word shit, Carlos,” Mal growls, sitting next to Jay on the opposite bed. “This is serious!”

“I kn-now that!” Carlos cries hoarsely, sitting up fully, and Mal realizes that his eyes are wet because he really had been crying. “You th-think I don’t knnnow that?”

“Shit,” Mal mutters, regretting her anger instantly. “Carlos…,” she tries, but it’s too much like an apology and the words stick in her throat. She jumps up from the bed and starts pacing again, swearing furiously under her breath.

“Ignore her, Carlos,” she hears Jay say behind her. “She’s just pissed because they took her knives away.”

“Hey, they took my potions, too,” Evie counters. “You don’t see me biting off anyone’s head.”

“It’s not about that,” Mal snaps, whirling back to face them. “It’s about keeping each other safe and together here until we get the wand and get back home. It’s about surviving, and if we’re already in trouble on day 1…” she trails off because she realizes she’s revealing way too much emotion, and she sits back down next to Jay with a sigh.

“I’m sorry, Carlos,” she bites out, a little harsher than an apology should be, but she was apologizing, at least.

“’s Ok,” he mumbles, but she knows it’s not. Not when he now had a target on his back. Not when they were stuck in the very kingdom that despised them for who they were. The situation was too skewed against them to be ‘ok.’

“Mal, I get that you’re worried,” Jay says, squeezing her arm reassuringly. “But we survived the Isle, and we’ve survived Auradon this far.”

“We’ll keep doing it like we always have,” Evie chimes in with a soft smile.

Carlos nods beside her, shaping his hands into fists with his thumbs pressed to the sides of his index fingers; he presses both hands together, palms facing each other, and makes a sweeping horizontal circle.

[Together.]

“God we sound like a fairy tale already,” Mal groans, dropping her head onto Jay’s shoulder. She grumbles as she feels him laugh beneath her, but she can’t deny the slight feeling of relief that fills her.

“Hey Carlos,” she murmurs, and the smaller boy raises an eyebrow at her. “What would you say to Mr. Kropp getting a taste of what it’s like to not be so in control of himself?”

And as Mal watches the positively evil grin spread across Carlos’ face, she can’t help but laugh. Yeah, they would be ok. She’d make sure of it.

Chapter Text

Audrey

If someone had told Audrey two weeks ago that Auradon Prep would be hosting a group of villain kids, she would have shrieked in horror and possibly fainted. (No comment as to whether that had actually been the case.) If you were to go one step further and say that not only would the villain kids become part of the student body, but that Audrey herself would actually feel any sort of positive emotion towards them….

And yet here she was in Ben’s room, pacing back and forth in front of the massive fireplace, worrying about everything that had happened earlier. Ben watches her pace, and though he’s tried to set his expression to reveal nothing, she knows him well enough to see through it; he looks likes his entire world has crashed down around him, and she can’t quite say he’s wrong to feel that way.

“How did we not know about Carlos?” she asks the air. “A villain with a stutter; how do we not hear about something like that?”

“There’s a lot we still don’t know about them,” Ben replies quietly from the bed.

“And Chad!” Audrey huffs. “I still can’t believe he would do something like that.” She paces a few feet before turning sharply on her heel. “I mean, I can, but....”

“Give him time,” Ben says slowly, but his tone his far away, like he’s thinking even as he says the words. “He’ll come around.”

“He’s not going to come around to the two villains who attacked him, regardless of the circumstances,” she counters sharply, but she falters when Ben grimaces in response.

“Stop…calling them that,” he says, and she frowns, pausing in track across the floor.

“Calling them what?”

“Villains,” he says, looking up at her with eyes like a heartbroken puppy. “They’re not villains,” he insists. “They’re just kids.”

“Kids who’ve clearly shown proficient use in lethal weapons,” she counters sternly. “Kids who were raised by villains who did horrible things; who only know how to do horrible things.”

“Stop it!” Ben cries, leaning forward on the edge of the bed. “You know there’s more to it than that. This…this isn’t you.”

She sighs, crossing to sit next to him on the bed. “Ben, I know,” she relents. “I get that there’s more; that their life was…less than ideal.”

She grimaces herself at the choice of words. Things were definitely worse than that. But…

“I know you want to help them,” she continues. “And I do too, but you need to think.”

“Think about what?” he asks, and she can tell even without seeing the crinkle in his brow that he’s battling the urge to get defensive.

“Ben, they attacked Chad, Emil and Kory.” She hates how harsh she sounds, but he has to see. “And, I know, I know that the situation wasn’t…that they were acting on instinct. But that alone should tell you that this runs a lot deeper than just not getting enough to eat.”

They’d seen further proof of that particular aspect over dinner. It had been worse than lunch in some aspects because some of the teachers and other adult faculty members had been present, and the villain kids had cringed back from them each time an adult had come near their table, as if expecting something terrible to happen to them. And Audrey could have sworn she’d seen Jay and Carlos slipping food from the table.

“I have thought about it, Audrey,” Ben says, and she knows he’s frustrated now. “And I’m not ignoring what they’ve done. But I have to think about what they could do; what could be better for them here.”

“You want to help,” Audrey says. “But you also have to be prepared for…things like this.”

“Things like this,” Ben repeats slowly, and she loves him, she really does, but he’s just so naïve sometimes.

“With whatever life they’ve know, they might not be used to help; they might not even want to be helped,” she explains gently.

“But,” Ben begins to protest, and she takes his hands in her own, squeezing gently.

“We’ll get there,” she reassures him with a smile. “But we take it slow; one at a time, and try and give them the chance to open up to us.”

“Yeah. Yeah, ok,” Ben relents slowly, but she can still see the worry in the set of his jaw. “But if they don’t? If…if this really is a mistake and…and they can’t be reached?”

It’s a valid concern, but Audrey knows better than to admit that it’s also one that’s been on her mid. Instead, she kisses away the anxious crease in Ben’s brow, smiling when he laughs in response.

“Then we’ll deal with that when it comes,” she says simply.

“What would I do without you?” Ben sighs.

“Nothing,” she says with a laugh. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Hey, give me some credit,” Ben protests, but he’s laughing too, and Audrey settles back against him, relieved.

At least this crisis was averted. Time would tell just what others would be resurfacing.

 Evie

They were all gathered in the boys’ room again. Evie didn’t want to admit it, but it was nicer than her and Mal’s room. The pink and lace was everything that she could have ever dreamed off, but the cozy darkness of the boys’ room felt more like home. Mal lay upside down on one of the beds; Carlos’, judging by how neatly it was made up; flipping through her spell book and muttering the curses under her breath as she came upon them. Jay and Carlos fought over a game near the massive TV, Carlos’ arguments alternating between rushed and staccato yelling, and signing when he got too worked up to speak.

Evie, for her part, was doing her best to organize the closets. She grumbles to herself, grabbing random leather articles and attempting to match them together. It didn’t make sense to her; the closets were huge, with one easily able to hold all four of their clothes together with room to spare. And yet, only one closet seemed in obvious use, and judging by the amount of red, gold and brown, it was all Jay’s.

“Carlos,” she calls over her shoulder. A startled yelp, followed by a dull thud meets her words, and she turns to see Carlos sprawled on his back with Jay laughing atop him.

“Pinned again and he is down for the count!” Jay crows victoriously, as Carlos squirms beneath him.

“Mal!” Carlos cries in protest.

“Jay, stop pinning Carlos,” Mal scolds, but she barely raises her head from her book, and Jay uses the opportunity to viciously ruffle Carlos’ hair.

“Eeevie!” Carlos whimpers, and Evie huffs, crossing her arms.

“Honestly how anything gets done with you two,” she mutters, but she stalks over anyway, daintily stepping over the tangle of the boys’ legs to reach Jay, who was attempting to wrestle Carlos into a headlock. Evie grumbles in annoyance, reaching down and easily twisting Jay’s wrist, freeing Carlos from the older boy’s grip, the smaller boy instantly retreating to the opposite bed beside Mal.

“Fucking shit, E!” Jay growls angrily, shaking out his hand.

That gets Mal’s attention; and she sits up, slamming her book closed sharply and scowling. “Jay,” she snaps, and there’s an unquestionable power in her voice as she glares at the older boy.

“But…” Jay protests, and Mal’s eyes flash green. He instantly cuts off his argument, but that doesn’t stop him from complaining as he glares at Evie. “That’s is low, E, real low.”

Evie smiles sweetly at him, and blows him a kiss when he flips her off, turning back to prance back over to Carlos.

“Now then,” she says, poking the boy to get his attention. “Where are all your clothes, de Vil?” She pokes him a few times as she speaks to emphasize her seriousness, though that doesn’t keep her from noticing the way he shrinks on the bed, refusing to look at her as he shakes his head.

“Yeah, I did notice that, too,” Mal chimes in, her book completely abandoned beside her on the bed as she leans forward. Her eyes narrow, and Evie watches her scan the room before turning back to Carlos.

“Ok spill,” Evie demands. “This closet is amazing, why would you not take advantage of that space?”

She realizes only belatedly, when Carlos shrinks a little further, that there was in fact, good reason for his lack of taking advantage. But she doesn’t get a chance to take back her words, because Carlos is pointing to a corner of the closet that Evie had overlooked in her previous examination. Examining it now, she sees what she’d missed before; a large black trash bag, only half full, nestled into one of the closet’s many alcoves.

“You haven’t unpacked yet?” It’s Mal who voices Evie’s thoughts, the other girl leaning so far forward that Evie was certain she would fall off the edge of the bed.

“And what is with the trash bag, bro?” Jay asks with a laugh. “What, you really couldn’t find one suitcase?”

“Oh, I’m ssorry,” Carlos mutters. “I w-wa-was a little busy rrunning for my l-life.” But his sarcasm does little to hide the anxious way he begins fiddling with his dog tail, studiously avoiding all of their gazes.

Evie vaguely remembers some kind of commotion as they were leaving the Isle. She and Mal had already been in the car, the other girl silent in the midst of her "plotting," as she called it. Jay had happily let the Auradon driver pack his bags into the trunk for him, entering the car himself with a particular glint in his eye that Evie had known meant he'd just successfully stolen something. Then Carlos had come running up, throwing himself into the car with hardly a backward glance, practically leaping into Jay's lap as he'd rushed to slam the door closed behind him.

Evie frowns, remembering hearing Cruella shouting something through the glass windows. Whatever it was must still be ringing in Carlos' ears, because he's shivering as he huddles on the bed beside her. Mal and Jay exchange knowing glances; a silent conversation that Evie wasn't privy to. She sighs quietly, glancing back at Carlos. While none of the kids' parents were particularly...nice... Carlos had especially had it worse. And with his stutter...Evie herself shudders as she recalls many times when Carlos had come crawling through her bedroom window, half dead and desperate to escape whatever horrors Cruella inflicted in her maddened states. With all that they had endured together, and all that Carlos had been through, for that teacher to think they'd been coddled of all things...

“Hey,” Evie hisses, tossing a pillow at Carlos to get his attention. “Get dressed; dark.”

“What's this now?” Jay asks, while both Mal and Carlos straighten quizzically.

“We're going out,” Evie announces. “To the science lab, to be exact.”

“E, what are you thinking?” Mal questions, eyes narrowing slightly.

“I'm thinking it's about time we started on Mr. Kropp's change of heart,” Evie says with a sly grin.

Carlos smiles slowly as the idea gets into his head, an enthusiastic sort of smirk that completely washes away the fear and worry of before.

“Jay, do you still have the dust CJ gave you?” Evie asks, turning happily on her heel to face the other boy.

“Yeah,” Jay confirms with a slight scoff. “What, are we gonna make him fly?”

“Up you go with a height and ho, to the stars beyond the blue...you can fly you can fly you can fly,” Carlos hums quietly, but he stops singing when Jay glares at him.

“Oh don't worry,” Evie assures, standing to readjust her cloak so its darker side was now showing on the outside. “I've got this.”

“Sure,” Jay says skeptically.

“Mal, we'll need your spell book,” Evie continues, ignoring the other boy's comments.

Mal nods, grabbing the book up and tucking it into a hidden pocket inside her jacket.

“And Jay, you've got the dust,” Evie reaffirms, then turns to Carlos.

“Carlos, we’ll need...” She starts to say ‘your knife,’ because instinct and habit aren't silenced easily; but she recovers and finishes smoothly. “Your kit.”

Carlos nods, and pulls his small lock picking kit from his back pocket. But he's looking at Mal, and Evie notices that Jay is, as well, waiting for the girl to tell them what to do. Mal raises an eyebrow at them both, and shakes her head.

“Hey don’t look at me,” she says. “Evie’s in charge of this one.”

Evie grins even wider, not so secretly pleased. It was a rare moment when Mal gave anyone else control, and so the opportunity at hand was one that Evie did not intend to waste.

“Alright then,” she says, clasping her hands together. “Everyone ready?”

There’s a scattering of solemn, but eager nods, and Evie turns to the boys. “Jay, Carlos; go up,” she directs. “Mal and I will take the school route, backtracking to the library if things go south.”

“Which they won’t,” Mal is quick to add, and Evie nods, understanding the silent warning.

“No,” she concedes. “But if we’re seen, we have the alibi. And it’s best Jay and Carlos stay out of sight.”

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder of that, E,” Jay mutters, but his eyes glint darkly and Evie know he's just as excited about this as she is.

“Carlos, stay in front,” Evie directs. “Once you and Jay reach the lab, use your kit to get inside.”

“And y-you?” Carlos asks, and it's almost sweet the concerned look he's giving her.

Sweet, but Evie can’t help but think that it’s also a sign of weakness that would definitely have gotten him killed on the Isle. But this wasn’t the Isle, she reminds herself, and it is sweet that he’s worried for her. It means he cares, unlike….

“Mal and I’ll be fine,” Evie assures him, smiling as she shoves aside her concerns. “You'll probably get there before we do, anyway, and if you don't, we'll let you in.”

“Ok,” he mumbles, but she can tell he's still worried.

“It’ll be fine because we’ll make it fine,” she says, and she makes sure to catch his eyes, injecting her words with a certain steel so he knows it will be ok.

“Right,” Carlos says, but he’s confident this time, slipping into his role with a bit more ease.

Evie smiles then, placing her hand in front of her in an outstretched fist. “Rotten?”

“To the core,” is echoed around her, as three other fists press against hers.

“Alright then, let’s go,” she says.

 Jay

 There was nothing quite like the rush of sensation that running along rooftops brought. The night cloaking his skin in darkness and shadow, every footfall precise and carrying him one step further to a successful goal; in this case, a break in. Break ins definitely ranked high on Jay’s list of favorite types of robberies. The classic ‘weapon to the throat, give me everything you have and no one gets hurt’ act was always a favorite, but at least with break ins, he didn’t have to get his hands (or his clothes) dirty.

Jay grins as he sprints across the dorm roof, spying a ledge up ahead that separated their current building from the one next to it.

“Jump,” he calls quietly to Carlos, who’d fallen behind as leader, but was still keeping pace beside Jay despite the older boy having the longer stride.

Carlos nods, his eyes straight ahead, but the slight twitch of his lips told Jay that he is just as excited about it all as Jay is. Jay pulls ahead and clears the jump with ease, crouching low and leaning his weight forward as he lands, the balls of his feet absorbing most of the shock of the sound. He grimaces as there’s still a hushed thud as he hits the opposite roof, but he’d made it, at least.

He turns to watch Carlos leap, rolling his eyes as he notices that the other boy had slowed his pace. “What’s a matter, bro?” Jay teases softly. “Is the puppy scared of falling?”

Carlos’ eyes narrow, but he doesn’t retaliate, instead launching himself forward in a dive, his palms hitting the roof by Jay’s feet without a sound. Jay blinks as Carlos completes his dive with a tuck of his body, his shoulder absorbing the rest of the weight and sound, and then rolling its way down until Carlos pops back up, rocking from his heels to his toes and straightening with a grin.

“Tha-tha-tha-that’s how it’s done,” Carlos murmurs, brushing his shoulder in a haughty gesture as Jay scowls.

“Shut up,” Jay hisses, jogging off across the remaining rooftop. Carlos laughs behind him, easily catching up and ignoring the glares Jay shoots over at him as he began to sing in an undertone.

“Think of the happiest things, it’s the same as having wings. Take the path that moonbeams make; if the moon is still awake you’ll see him wink his eye. You can fly, you can fly, you can fly!”

“Damn it, Carlos,” Jay growls, and Carlos giggles from his side.

“Ssorry,” the boy whispers. “It’s st-stuck in my hhhead.”

“Yeah well if you get it stuck in mine, I’m gonna beat it back into yours,” Jay mutters darkly.

The rest of the sprint across the roof passes in blessed silence, only the slight shuffle of feet echoing between them as they run. Jay chances another glance at Carlos, but the smaller boy is completely silent, his jaw clenched and his eyes on the line of roof ahead. Jay sets his own jaw in frustration, slowing his pace to a jog as they near the next ledge.

He knows his choice of words had been particularly harsh, and it’s a threat that most definitely would have been carried out on the Isle. But here in Auradon, it feels wrong, somehow. Carlos slows to a stop and hovers warily, and Jay can feel the other boy’s cautious gaze. Jay knows what he has to do, but the fact that the idea had even come to him in the first place, and in a way that was more than just a laughable suggestion, was more than a little frustrating.

“Damn it,” Jay grumbles to himself. “One lesson with the Fairy Godmother and I’m going soft.”

Carlos makes a muffled choking sound that Jay knows is a laugh, and he scowls as the other boy creeps over to him, raising a hand and poking Jay’s cheek. Jay swats his hand away, but the other boy laughs again, his eyes glinting mischievously in the darkness.

“N-nope,” Carlos chuckles. “Y-y-you’re still pretty ssolid.”

“Shut up,” Jay mutters, shoving the boy away, but his own lips flicker into a smirk, relief surging through him at the accepted -albeit unspoken- apology.

“La-lab’s down there,” Carlos says, pointing to the building adjacent to them that extended out into the grassy lawn; close to where they’d been…ambushed…by that creep Chad and his group.

“After you,” Jay says, gesturing towards the ledge, and Carlos shimmies out, twisting and dropping easily off the side, his hands going out and latching onto the brick patterned wall. He lowers himself down hand over hand, his feet kicking in time with his movements and keeping him balanced as he makes his way down.

“Show off,” Jay grumbles, but he vaults over and climbs down himself, landing in the grass beside Carlos.

“Good?” Carlos asks, raising a brow, and Jay nods, undeniable excitement filling him at the prospect of what was to come.

“Let’s do it.”

 Mal

Sneaking around had always been something that came easily to Mal, and was something the girl prided herself on. She liked to think that it had something to do with her half-reptilian heritage, though she knew Evie just called it a combination of privilege and practice; the privilege being that most people were too terrified of her to call her out when (if) they caught her. But none of that privilege mattered in Auradon; it was sheer talent that was getting Mal through this now.

“So when we get to the lab,” Evie murmurs beside her as they creep through the halls together. “I’ll use your spell book and start figuring out the translations and what I'll need for the potion.”

“Start figuring it out?” Mal repeats lowly, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You do know what you're doing, right E?”

“Of course,” Evie scoffs mildly, but Mal catches the uncertainty in her eyes. “It's just, there aren't really magical ingredients here that I can use, since everything is back on the Isle...”

“And therefore entirely useless,” Mal finishes.

“Yeah,” Evie mutters. “So I'm sort of...improvising.”

“Mm-hm,” Mal hums skeptically. “And you need my spell book, why, exactly?”

Evie huffs impatiently, ducking down the hallway that would lead them to the library. “I don't want to have to explain it all twice,” the other girl says with a sigh. “Can’t you just trust me till we get there?”

Trust. A difficult concept for any of them to fully understand, but Mal understood enough of it to know what she felt for her team.

“I wouldn’t have put you in charge if I didn’t,” Mal responds, and is rewarded when Evie relaxes, smiling back at her happily.

“Come on,” the other girl says. “We're almost to the lab.”

Mal follows with a tad less reluctance as they near the library, watching carefully down each hall as they approach. She pauses as she catches a glimpse of a shadow against the opposite wall, and whistles quietly to Evie. The other girl stops, immediately noticing what Mal had seen. Mal creeps up to Evie’s side, eyeing the now visible figure nervously.

“It’s Doug,” Evie breathes in an undertone, and Mal frowns.

“Doug?”

“The kid who was with Ben when he introduced us,” Evie explains impatiently. “He’s the one we’re supposed to go to if we need anything with the dorms.”

Oh. Mal vaguely remembers him now. A nerdy kind of guy; glasses; couldn’t take his eyes off Evie. Mal smirks as she notices Evie’s slight blush as she stares at the boy. Clearly, she remembered that part too.

“What do we do about it?” Mal questions, noting that the boy wasn’t really blocking their way. He sat just inside the library lobby, just across from the doors that opened into the hallway. His face was buried in a book, but Mal didn’t doubt that at the slightest suspicious movement from them, he’d look up and they’d be caught.

“Casual,” Evie murmurs, straightening from her spot against the wall.

“Casual?” Mal repeats.

“Honestly Mal,” Evie sighs in a dramatic whisper. “You know nothing of the art of sneaking.”

“Excuse me?” Mal snaps, a little louder than indented. She flinches, and Evie ducks back against the wall, but Doug hadn’t stirred from his chair.

“If we look like we’re sneaking around and up to no good, then people who see us will automatically be suspicious,” Evie explains quickly. “So if we walk like we’re just passing through….”

“Got it,” Mal intervenes, straightening from her defensive crouch. “Casual.”

Evie nods, and they both move out from the wall, heads raised and bodies relaxed, but eyes watchful and wary. Mal draws a breath and holds it as they begin to pass the library doors, and Doug half-glances up from his book. The boy does a double take, and Mal tenses, thinking it’s all over. But Evie simply pauses, turning to look the boy in the eye and smiling icily.

“Can we help you?” Evie says sweetly, but Mal knows that particular look, and she stifles a laugh as the boy pales, then blushes, shaking his head rapidly and stammering out a negative.

“Have a good night, then,” Evie continues, then turns sharply and continues easily down the hall towards the lab.

“Way to go, E,” Mal cheers, still vainly trying to stifle her laughter.

“Poor thing,” Evie croons, her own eyes alight with vicious amusement. “Didn’t know what hit him.”

“Come on, let’s hurry up and beat the boys to the lab,” Mal cajoles, jogging lightly down the remainder of the hall.

The door to the science lab is locked, but it pops quickly once Mal rattles it, Jay grinning boldly down at them as he lets them in.

“About damn time,” he mutters. “We found the lab, raided the library and broke into the snack machine in the time it took you guys to walk down a few flights of stairs.”

“And across the lawns, and into the main building, and then through the library,” Mal snaps, but Jay just laughs off her defense and locks the door securely behind them.

“Th-the-the-there’s still ssome left,” Carlos offers from inside the classroom. He motions to a pile of food spread out at the metal table before him.

“Yeah,” Jay agrees, sifting through until he finds that same red rope-candy he’d eaten in the car ride to Auradon. “With everything Carlos and I snagged from the feast, we’ve practically got ourselves a second dinner.”

Evie gasps quietly in delight, but Mal shakes her head. “I’m good,” she says shortly, beginning to browse the rows of metal desks and grabbing beakers and glass containers off the shelves.

She knew the basics of making a potion, but Evie was the real expert. The best Mal could do was brew a simple poison, and even then it was only effective enough to offer a gradual death; unlike the instant deaths that Evie’s skilled potions granted.

“You sure Mal?” Jay asks her, and Mal glances over and surveys the pile of food critically. She was still pretty hungry, but she didn’t want to take from a portion that the others might need more.

“There’s still some of those fruit tarts,” Evie tries to tempt her. “And chocolate.”

Carlos shakes his head vehemently, making a negative humming noise in his throat. “Ch-ch-ch-ch-chocolate’s mmine,” he says fiercely, and Mal feels her lips twitch.

“Save me half of a fruit tart then,” she decides, and Jay tosses her the half he hadn’t finished.

“There’s no apple,” he promises, and she bites into the soft pastry as she finishes setting up the makeshift cauldron.

“E,” Mal calls when she’s done, not bothering to finish chewing first. “All set.”

“Right,” Evie says, licking her lips clean and wiping her hands on Jay’s jacket, ignoring the other boy’s swears of anguish.

Mal places her spell book down on the table, guiding Evie through the different sections of the book as Jay and Carlos explore the rest of the room.

“What kind of spell are you looking for, exactly?” Mal asks, as Evie frowns and shakes her head at a page for the third time.

“Don’t you have a section for brews and potions?” Evie questions, and Mal purses her lips, trying to recall.

“Yeah,” Mal drawls, nodding as she squints at the tabs she’d colored along the side of the binding. “Try the orange tab.”

Evie flips to the section and grins triumphantly. “Yes, there it is!”

“What?” Jay asks, coming over to peer over Evie’s shoulder.

“I’m adapting Ursula’s voice stealing spell,” Evie explains. “It’s equal parts spell and potion, but I’m only using the potion aspect.”

“Wait, what?” Jay frowns. “You’re going to steal Mr. Kropp’s voice?”

“Not exactly,” Evie says with a dangerous grin. “More like I’m muting his voice and adding another.”

“Oh,” Mal says, suddenly catching on. “Oh, Evie that is…” she trails off, shaking her head in amazement. Wicked, brilliant, and any other evil adjective she could think of.

“Ok, enlighten me,” Jay demands.

“Not enough time to translate it into lay man’s terms,” Evie says, picking the locks to the compartments beneath the desk that holds an array of chemicals and elements.

Mal silently exchanges a fist bump with the other girl in appreciation of the burn, while Jay grumbles and joins Carlos in a raid of the metal cabinets along the opposite wall. Evie mutters to herself as she pulls out a few vials of chemicals, comparing some against the spell book and replacing what she deems unnecessary.

“Ok,” Evie says finally. “Ok I’ve got the base ingredients going now, so all that’s left is the specifics.”

“Uh, hold up, E,” Mal cuts in, scanning a line in the book. “It says you need some kind of vessel to….”

“That’s only if I’m taking his voice,” Evie breaks in smoothly, lighting the hidden burner in the desk and setting the beaker over it. “I’m not stealing his voice, only…changing it.”

“So then, the specific ingredients,” Mal presses.

Evie grimaces at that, shaking her head slightly. “Ursula and all her aquatic oddities,” she complains. “Most of these I can just substitute, but the crucial ones: sea urchin venom, dried crushed kelp, powdered coral root, shriveled cod head and scales…” Evie huffs a sigh as she finishes. “There’s very little room for substituting there, and the measurements!”

“One of the tricky ones?” Mal guesses.

Contrary to popular belief, potion making was an exact science; too much or too little of a certain ingredient could literally be the difference between life and death.

But Evie shakes her head, throwing up her hands in frustration. “No! I swear she just threw everything into a boiling cauldron and called it a day!”

“P-pretty sure she did, ac-ac-actually,” Carlos chimes in from the other side of the room.

Mal shoots him a glare and he falls silent, picking the lock on another metal cabinet.

“And that's not even the best part,” Evie continues. “While Ursula's brew was quick and more…explosive in nature, the potion I'm adapting from it will take a few days to fully settle.”

“Wait, what?” Mal snaps, and Jay and Carlos exchange nervous glances. “A few days?”

“Maybe two,” Evie amends, wincing. “A good bit of it is just making sure all the ingredients incorporate fully, and we're starting now, so that gets rid of some of that time.”

“But where are we even going to get these ingredients?” Jay asks. “I mean, sea urchins, kelp?”

“Ooh!” Carlos lifts his head, his eyes widening slightly. “M-m-miss Ly-lykke.”

“Who?” Mal asks, furrowing her brows at him.

“The music teacher,” Evie clarifies, nodding thoughtfully. “One of Ariel's daughters.”

Jay laughs. “Well if anyone would have oceany things it's her.”

“Ok,” Mal says, relieved that some solutions were being found. “We'll see what we can find out there.”

Evie nods, turning the burner down a notch. “Ok, then….”

A dull clang, followed by a startled scream cuts her off, and Mal stands sharply, turning to find Carlos frozen in front of the now open metal cabinet. One hand grips the metal door tightly, while the other signs jerkily by his side; a flat palm that he twists over in a flip-flop motion.

[Dead.]

“Carlos?” Evie says carefully, but the boy is frozen, his hand repeating the sign over and over.

[Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead]

Jay leaps over a desk, landing by Carlos' side and peering into the cabinet. He whistles sharply, reaching in and pulling a glass jar from the shelves before slowly closing the cabinet door. Mal leans over the desk, frowning at the object.

“What is it?” she questions sharply. Anything that could paralyze Carlos like that must be dangerous.

Jay plops the jar down beside Evie with a flourish, wiping his hands on his jeans. “You asked for fish head and scales?” he says, motioning to the jar.

“Ugh, Jay that's disgusting,” Mal grimaces, turning her gaze away from the lifeless fish that was crammed into the jar, black eyes wide and staring as it floated in tepid water.

“No it's perfect,” Evie cries, not hesitating to open the jar and begin scraping scales into the boiling beaker before her, then severing the head with a scalpel and adding it to the mix.

“Right, well, someone should make sure Carlos isn't having a mental breakdown,” Mal says pointedly as Jay begins stabbing at the remaining fish body with one of the other tools.

Jay glances up and catches her glare, and he sighs, dropping the scalpel disappointedly. “Got it,” he mutters, walking across the room and taking Carlos by the shoulders, dragging him away from the cabinets.

“Out of curiosity,” Mal says, taking up the scalpel and continuing Jay's cause. “Why do the Auradonians have jars full of dead things?”

“For when they do dissections,” Evie guesses, adding another small amount of some chemical.

“Alright, well what now?” Mal asks, eyeing the potion, which was steaming and had turned a pale lavender color.

“Jay,” Evie whispers, and Jay glances up from his place in the corner with Carlos. “I need the dust,” she instructs.

“How much of it?” Jay asks warily.

Evie frowns, studying the potion critically before looking back up at him. “All of it.”

“What?” Jay protests. “Why do you need all of it?”

“It's the magical activator in the potion,” Evie explains apologetically. “Normally, I'd be able to pull from the available magic, or use my own, but….” She trails off in slight embarrassment, and Mal feels a twinge of sympathy, which she immediately fights to shove away.

Despite the fact that magic was allowed in Auradon, it was so rarely used that it was left to simply float around at will, wild and free as it drifted the air. The magic could be channeled through something, or even syphoned off into a vessel- say, a magic wand- or even be drained into a potion. Unfortunately for their purposes, the magical barrier of the Isle prevented anyone from being able to channel or use any kind of magic; even the magic already contained in vessels, like Grimhilde's magic mirror.

And so, the lack of ability to actively use and practice magic (small potions not withstanding), led to this painful stalemate. Evie hovers anxiously over the still steaming potion, pleading silently with Jay while Mal tries to influence him through a far more obvious and dangerous glare.

“I just don't get it,” Jay complains, stubbornly holding out. “If you can do magic, and there's plenty of it here, why can't you just magically activate it yourself?”

Mal growls a warning curse, while Evie sighs, rolling her eyes.

“It's not that simple,” Evie huffs in frustration. “Yes, there's magic, and I can feel it.” She whimpers longingly, and Mal grimaces, understanding because she could feel it, too. “I just can't reach it,” Evie finishes with a mournful look at the brewing potion before her.

Carlos hedges over, a sympathetic frown on his face despite his slight shivering. Jay grumbles under his breath, but Mal knows he's relenting because he draws the small bag of pixie dust from his pocket.

“But do you really have to use all of it?” he whines, hefting the bag in his palm. “It wasn't easy convincing CJ to let me have even this much.”

“Oh, I'm ssure it w-w-wasn't,” Carlos murmurs slyly, jarring Jay's arm with his elbow and catching the bag as it tumbles from the other boy's fingers. Carlos tosses the bag to Evie while Jay splutters, and Mal chuckles quietly.

“See Carlos,” Mal says, ruffling the boy's hair. “I knew there was a reason I brought you into the group all those years ago.”

The smaller boy peers up at her, his eyebrows lifting in a way that was both curious and hopeful. “Y-yeah?”

Mal nods, still smirking. “You've got all the resourceful and quick thinking we need.”

Jay scoffs, rolling his eyes, while Evie adds the fairy dust to the potion and it begins to glow faintly.

“I thought you said it was because having a mute psychopath as an ally would be beneficial for the group,” Jay mutters, and Mal's eyes flash as she shoots him a glare.

“Shut up,” she hisses sharply.

“W-wa-wait, wwhat?” Carlos says, his brow furrowing as he glances around at them all, but especially at Mal.

“To be fair,” Evie chimes in, an amused smile playing about her lips. “You were pretty hardcore at the time.”

“B-but a sssych… I w-wasn't crazy!” Carlos protests, to their resounding laughter. “G-guys, really?”

“It was a long time ago,” Mal murmurs, leaning against the table closest to the door and beginning to listen for motion in the hallway. “We know the truth about you now.”

“W-asn't that long ag-ag-ago,” Carlos complains, crossing his arms sullenly.

It really hadn't been, Mal muses quietly as she watches Evie begin to pack away the half-finished potion, and Jay starts scouting out escape routes. They had barely been in their adolescent stages; Mal was pretty sure Jay had been the only one in double digits at the time. She grins to herself as she remembers that initial encounter with the son of Cruella de Vil.

“If anything you should be mad at Evie,” Mal says quietly, as the girl in question finishes stowing the potion in the very back of the cabinet of dead frogs. “Since she's the one who found you.”

“Ammbushed is b-etter,” Carlos counters, and Evie makes an indignant noise.

Jay whistles softly from his spot by the window, and they all freeze. Mal straightens, raising her hand in a tight fist; their signal for total quiet and eyes on me. She creeps over to the other side of the window by Jay and glances at him worriedly. She signs; bringing her left hand up in a flat, slightly angled palm and drawing the tip of her right index finger down across it in a quick sliding motion.

[What?]

Jay brings a hand up, two fingers spread apart and tented like legs, and he makes a ‘walking’ motion with the fingers. Someone was coming.

Mal tenses, but doesn't dare glance out the window to see for herself. Instead she signs back; bringing both hands, palms up in loose 'O' fist shapes; then she lifts her hands slightly, spreading her fingers as she does so, her brow furrowed in question.

[How many?]

Jay lifts his chin and adjusts his head so he can peer out of the corner of his eye. He frowns, then turns back to Mal and whispers. “Two,” he says. “One is definitely Ben; couldn't tell who the other was.”

“Doug,” Evie hisses sharply from behind them. “He was the only one who saw Mal and I on our way here.”

Mal growls, and begins plotting revenge against the boy, but Jay shakes his head. “Nah,” he denies quietly. “Too tall.”

“It doesn't matter,” Mal interjects. Well, it did, but... “What matters is getting out of here unseen.”

Jay and Evie nod, but Carlos is trembling, face ghostly pale against the darkness of the room. His hands shake as he signs, motioning to himself and Jay before gesturing upwards.

[Should we go up?]

“No,” Mal says, a little too harshly. The boy flinches and she grimaces as she softens her tone minutely. “We stay together and stay low. Jay and I will scout us a route. You and Evie make sure everything is as it should be in this room.”

“Got it,” Evie agrees with a firm nod, and Mal looks to Carlos, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Carlos?” Mal questions, but the boy is frozen, trembling in fear and anticipation. “Damn it Carlos,” Mal hisses under her breath. “Now is really not the time...”

“Go,” Jay says firmly, abandoning his post to gently push Carlos against the wall, where the smaller boy slumps weakly, still shaking. “Evie and I will take care of the room and Carlos; you find the way out.”

Mal nods, grateful, and slips quickly and silently from the room. It’s not a fear of showing weakness that caused her hesitation with comforting Carlos. She’d done her fair enough share of that, however horribly. But she wasn’t as good as Evie at getting in touch with her emotions to be able to empathize well, and Jay had more experience with the younger boy’s traumas than she did. It was simply a happy convenience that she was better at scouting escape routes than hand holding.

She creeps along the hall, in the opposite direction of the library and the way that Ben and whoever would most likely come in. She scans the rooms on either side of her warily, tense and ready for anything that would come at her. It was dark and quiet, just as she liked it, but she knew better than to let her guard down, especially for this.

A map appears in an intersection ahead of her, and she jogs rapidly over to it, squinting through the darkness in an attempt to make out where they were. It was a vain attempt; the hall too dark, with no windows to let in the dim moonlight. She makes a noise of disgust and turns on her heel, only to come face to face with a suit of armor. She fights to regain control of her heartbeat, the traitorous organ suddenly speeding up in the light of her surprise.

Checking the hall, and satisfied at the lack of sounds of an approach, Mal crosses to the suit of armor and presses herself against the wall beside it. If anyone were to come down the hall now, they’d only see the tin knight. Mal taps the side of the knight with the back of her fist, her voice barely above a whisper as she asks:

“How can I get from here to the dorms without being seen?”

It was a risk, especially if the suit of armor decided to shout his answer, but the helmet barely creaks as it opens, and the hollow voice that rings out in response is just as quiet as her own voice.

“The dormitories are in the Fantasia building; you are currently in the main school building.”

“Yeah, like I didn’t already know I was in the school,” Mal mutters, but the suit ignores her and continues his instructions.

“To reach the Fantasia building from the school without being seen, proceed across the lawn from the right wing and continue along behind the dining hall. Enter the Fantasia building through the back exit and ascend the Merlin staircase. You will reach your desired location without notice.”

“Wow,” Mal marvels, nodding in approval. “You know you’re pretty chill for an inanimate suit of armor.”

The suit doesn’t respond, but Mal doesn’t expect it to. She rushes back down the halls to the science lab, but freezes when she hears voices coming up from the library.

“…wouldn’t want to disturb you from your rest, would I, Aziz?” A voice which Mal recognizes as Ben’s murmurs quietly.

Another voice answers, one Mal doesn’t recognize but almost could have mistaken it for Jay’s if she hadn’t known better.

“Ah, I figured you wouldn’t unless it were a ‘real emergency,’ right, Your Highness?”

Ben scoffs quietly at the sarcasm surrounding ‘Your Highness,’ and it takes Mal all of two seconds to put the pieces together. She’s cursing herself furiously for not noticing it earlier, but doesn’t have time to react further because the voices have come to a stop just outside the science lab.

“Well, there was definitely a break in,” the strange voice known as Aziz murmurs. “Whoever broke this lock must be a genius.” There’s awe and pride in the accented voice, and Mal frowns.

“And why is that?” Ben asks, and Mal can almost picture his own frown from the unamused tone of his voice.

“Well, for one, this is not an easy sort of lock to pick,” Aziz responds, a dull clicking following his words. “And whoever did it not only broke the lock, but put it back together again perfectly.”

That’s Carlos, Mal thinks, a smug pride of her own filling her as she hears the strange boy’s complements.

“Wait, Aziz,” Ben splutters softly. “Did you just pick the lock?”

“Hey, to catch a thief,” the other responds easily.

Mal can practically see the easy shrug and casual smile; it’s exactly something Jay would say and do. She almost wants to creep further forward to see what this Aziz guy looked like, but she knows better, and keeps to the shadows as the light within the classroom flickers on suddenly.

“What do you think?” Ben’s voice asks from inside the classroom.

“I gotta say, whoever broke in is definitely a genius,” the voice that was Aziz responds.

“You mentioned that,” Ben says, not sounding amused at all. “Is anything missing? Broken?”

“No,” Aziz replies, his voice still full of that strange pride, like he’d accomplished this feat himself. “Nothing is broken or stolen; everything is exactly as it should be.”

Mal feels relief, but also a hint of panic. Her group wasn’t in the classroom; that much was obvious. But if they had managed to get out, then where….?

“…except the window,” Aziz says, and Mal stiffens, tuning back in to the conversation. “It’s open. Sloppy exit if you ask me; and, you are, so…” The boy makes a disappointed noise, and Mal stifles a curse.

Who had left the window open? She was going to kill whoever had left the window open! The voices inside the classroom draw closer, and Mal begins to back away from the classroom; quiet, but rapidly.

“Whoever it is must be heading back to the dorms,” Ben guesses. “We could try and catch up to them…”

“No,” Mal hears Aziz say as she turns a corner, their voices now in the hallway. “They would figure we’d think they’d be going to the dorms, and go a different way.”

“…the rest of the floor, then,” is all Mal manages to catch of Ben’s response, before she is sprinting out of the building and out onto the lawn.

She spins on her heel and hisses a curse as she realizes she’s nowhere near the right wing of the building, and still with no clue where Jay, Carlos and Evie were. She crouches low to avoid the windows and jogs back around to the correct section, the presses herself to the side of the brick and waits, scanning the yard as she catches her breath.

Think Mal, she tells herself. They’d know better than to go back into the school if there were people approaching, and they wouldn’t go straight to the dorms; not if we were all split up. She straightens from her defensive pose and draws a slow breath, releasing it in a series of four, slow whistled notes. She pauses a moment, then draws another breath and whistles again.

She holds her breath, listening intently, and is rewarded when two short whistles ring out in response. Relief surges through her and she jogs towards the sound, still alert, but hopeful as she stops just before the lawn turns into the gardens. She whistles again, and a voice whispers:

“Mal!”

She turns, and spots Evie and Carlos pressed into the crook of a white gazebo. She jogs over and they creep out, and Mal frowns, glancing around the rest of the garden.

“Where’s Jay?” she asks, and the tree beside the gazebo shakes before the boy in question drops down from its branches.

“At your service,” Jay whispers, grinning at her. She glares at him, and his smile falters. “What did I do?”

“You left the window open, that’s what!” Mal growls. She knows it was him; Jay always got sloppy when he was rushing.

“What? No I didn’t,” Jay protests, crossing his arms defensively.

“You did,” Mal insists. “Because Ben and that kid he was with searched the place, and said that whoever broke in left the window open.”

“Shit,” Evie whispers, her eyes wide. “They’re searching for us?”

“Yeah,” Mal confirms tightly. “But they’re searching inside the school, so we need to get back to the dorms now.”

“Right,” Jay says firmly, and Evie nods in agreement.

Mal glances over at Carlos, but he doesn’t seem to be completely there. His eyes meet hers and he blinks, nodding quickly; but Mal had seen the distant, haunted look in his eyes. Whatever memories that had been shaken loose in the lab were still bothering him, and judging from his reaction to the dead things in the jars, Mal has a painful suspicion she knows what it is.

“Carlos, stick with Evie,” Mal decides. “Jay and I will take point. We stay low, and stay close; in sight.”

“How are we getting back to the dorms, then?” Jay asks, and Mal relays the information the knight had told her.

“So we all know the plan?” Mal asks, scanning everyone’s faces closely for certainty. She receives it in tense nods and glittering eyes, Carlos’ eyes shining just a little brighter than the others. Mal tries to tell herself he’d be fine as long as he stuck with Evie and the plan, but even she doesn’t quite believe it.

“Let’s go,” Mal whispers sharply, starting forward with Jay close at her side.

Evie and Carlos peel off from their trail and continue a steady pace across the lawn, ducking low to avoid sight from anyone looking out from the school. Mal waits until they’re well away from the gardens before deciding to voice her thoughts.

“What happened in the lab?” she asks softly. Jay doesn’t respond right away, but the subtle clench of his jaw is more than enough of an answer.

“He’s tough,” Jay says, eyes scanning the yard ahead as they run. “He’ll be fine.”

Mal wants to say that it wasn’t a matter of Carlos being tough or fine, it was a matter of survival, but she thinks better of it and stay silent. She can see the dorms building up ahead, and she slows her pace, signaling for Jay to do the same. He does, shortening his stride, and picks up on Mal’s intentions when he catches her scanning the yard. He whistles shortly, and the four note whistle is repeated back from up ahead.

Mal jerks her head and they start up again, reaching the building just as Evie and Carlos do. Evie catches Mal’s eye and smiles victoriously, but Mal keeps her own expression blank and solemn. It wouldn’t do to celebrate too early. One of the crueler lessons the Isle had taught her.

Evie understands and resumes her serious attitude, as Jay cracks open the bottom window. It opens at an angle and threatens to drop the moment he releases it. He grabs it again and holds it, and Mal quickly begins to delegate.

“Carlos, in,” she commands softly.

The smaller boy jumps, but quickly swings himself through the window and lands soundlessly on the other side.

“Jay, go,” Mal whispers. “Straight up the stairs.”

Jay doesn’t hesitate, and lifts himself through and secures the window behind him. They share a nod through the glass before Jay disappears from view, taking Carlos with him.

“Wait, Mal,” Evie starts, but Mal quickly cuts through her confusion and explains quickly.

“If Ben is searching the school, odds are he’ll find Doug, who will tell him he saw you and I in the library.”

“Oh,” Evie whispers, realizing.

“No one saw Jay and Carlos, so they can slip in the side, while we go the more direct route; the route they’ll be expecting from us.”

“Yeah, ok,” Evie agrees, and they sneak around to the front of the building.

Mal fights to regain her ‘casual’ demeanor, following Evie’s lead this time as they enter the building, whispering nonsense to each other but keeping watchful eyes on their surroundings. Thankfully, they climb the stairs with no incident, and Mal practically melts with relief when they finally reach the boy’s room.

“You did great with the potion, E,” Mal murmurs, and the other girl laughs quietly.

“It’s not even finished yet, M,” Evie answers back. “But when it is, then you can tell me how great I am.”

Mal scoffs, rolling her eyes and placing a hand on the doorknob. “I wouldn’t go that far,” she says, but Evie’s laugher cuts off suddenly as Mal shoves the door open and they walk in.

The room looks like one of Carlos’ improvised bombs had gone off; and while the mess isn’t exactly a surprise, the fact that the boy himself is nowhere to be seen -and Jay is pacing and cursing furiously throughout the room- is more than enough to send a chill down Mal’s spine.

“Carlos?” she demands. Jay grimaces, rubbing his hands nervously as he jerks his head towards the closet.

Mal frowns, striding over to the closet and sliding the door back. Carlos is tucked into the farthest corner, a pile of random objects, screws and springs and batteries scattered around him. His concentration is on the small black box in his hands, and he doesn’t even look up when Mal calls his name.

“I swear Carlos, if you’re making another explosive…,” Mal warns, but it’s only half-hearted because she knows that when Carlos’ tinkering turns destructive it means he’s one shove away from falling over the edge.

Mal sighs and backs out of the closet, but she leaves the door cracked enough to let in some light. She turns to Jay and Evie, who’ve both taken nervous seats on the edge of the beds.

“What is it?” Mal demands of Jay as she moves to sit beside Evie on the bed.

“One of the remotes for the TV,” Jay replies, his lips twitching in brief amusement. “He’s taken it apart and put it back together at least twice in the five minutes it took you guys to get here.”

Evie giggles quietly at that, but Mal snorts in mock derision.

“Only twice?” Mal says. “He’s losing his edge.”

But inwardly she’s simultaneously relieved and worried. He wasn’t building an explosive, but he was definitely retreating into himself too much if it had really taken him that long; he could easily have smashed the remote to pieces and still have every piece perfectly place in half that time.

“He’s not losing his edge,” Jay retorts, rolling his eyes at her. “It’s just that now we know the potion isn’t going to work right away--”

He pauses to glare at Evie, who sticks her tongue out at him with a glare.

“--We have to endure another biology lesson with Kropp,” Jay finishes with a grumble. “Not to mention our first of a week’s worth of detentions.”

Evie straightens and hisses so sharply Mal is reminded of a cat. Mal is no less startled, but reigns in her terror and channels her anger instead, standing coldly and towering over Jay as she fixes him with an icy stare.

“Detention?” she repeats, and Jay shrinks beneath her glare, his tanned skin seeming to pale slightly in the face of her wrath.

“Shit, Mal,” he starts, then falters, tugging at the edge of his hat nervously. “Fuck, it’s not what….”

“Not what I think?” Mal finishes fiercely. “Don’t you dare say it’s not what I think!”

“Mal,” Evie murmurs behind her, but Mal ignores the girl’s attempts to calm her and continues her relentless glare at Jay.

“P-please,” Mal hears a whimper, and she turns to see Carlos hovering in the door of the closet, face pale and anxious as he stares up at her. “Do-do-don’t yell.”

Mal growls through gritted teeth, and she wants to be mad at the boy, wants to scream at him ‘what were you thinking?’, because fuck it all it had been him who’d started the whole thing. But she can’t; not with him staring at her, all eyes and shrunken small, weak and vulnerable and fucking pathetic.

Mal swipes a hand tiredly over her brow, shutting out her view of the trembling boy. “Fucking hell, Carlos, what were you thinking?” she breathes softly.

“Hey don’t take it out on him,” Jay snaps, and Mal pries her eyes open to glare at him once again. “It’s not all his fault.”

“I didn’t say it was,” Mal replies, forcing her tone to remain even, if only because screaming profanities like she wanted would only make her head hurt.

“I only asked what he was thinking; because pulling a knife on an Auradon kid; getting detention….” Her stomach clenches painfully at the very thought of the word. “It’s not exactly sticking to the plan.”

“It’s not dete-dete-detention like the Isle,” Carlos whispers, edging carefully around Mal to join Evie on the bed. “It’s with Fffairy G-odmother, so…if that he-helps….”

It didn’t, not in the least, but Mal wasn’t going to risk being the one push to drive Carlos to turn that TV remote into a detonator, so she forces herself to breathe. She tries for a smile, but knows it’s more of a grimace.

“Just try not to cause any more trouble than necessary?” she asks, and Carlos nods sheepishly, ducking his head to hide the sudden flush of his cheeks.

Mal snorts and turns to Jay, fixing him with another cold look. “I mean it,” she growls at him, and Jay spreads his hands innocently.

“When have I ever caused trouble?” he gasps. “Carlos is the psychopath, remember?”

“Oh c-c-c-ome on!” Carlos splutters indignantly. “I thought wwe were ov-ver this!”

No, Mal thought as Evie and Jay began to laugh and pester Carlos with memories. We’re not over this. Not until they succeeded; not until she’d made Maleficent proud; not until they got the wand and exacted revenge on every single prince and princess who had cursed them to their miserable existence. Not until then, would they truly be over it. And Mal couldn’t wait for that day.

Chapter Text

Carlos

Don’t get caught.

That was the only thing on the boy’s mind, the only rule that he could remember as he raced through the streets. A simple rule, the first thing anyone on the Isle was taught. Anything was allowed, just as long as you didn’t get caught. But it was also easier said than done, especially if your hair was as white as snow and you couldn’t run to save your life.

“Gonna get you, Freak!”

Which it just might turn out to be, if the angry swears and yells from behind him were any indication.

The boy ran, clutching tightly to the scarf in his hands, sweat pouring down his face and stinging his eyes. He could only be grateful that he was small enough to squeeze through spaces his pursuers could not, but even that wouldn't be enough to save him if they could catch him in an open area. He turned sharply, slamming into the brick wall of the alleyway, picking himself up and continuing on with barely a backwards glance. If he could just reach the gates he’d be safe. No one would dare mess with him within the confines of de Vil manor.

Then something snagged his foot and he fell, tumbling out into the street and crashing into a market stall. He winced as the stall owner started yelling, and wasn't fast enough to dodge the boot that slammed into his side. He gasped, scrambling away from the assault, eyes wide as he tried to figure out where he was and how to get out.

A girl stood just across the street, standing in the shadows cast by the walls around her. She was smiling, a wicked gleam in her eye that suggested she had been the cause of his fall. Carlos scowled at her, then flinched away as the street vendor came at him again, ranting and raving about paying for the damage he’d caused. He regained his balance and bolted, away from the shops and the streets, but he was once again grabbed and slammed to the ground, the heavy stench of sweat, perfume and gunpowder combining into a noxious odor that told him quite plainly that his pursuers had finally caught up to him.

“You’ve got something that doesn’t belong to you, runt,” a thick voice rasped in his ear.

Carlos grimaced at the smell of the boy’s breath, jerking back roughly and twisting out of the constricting grip. He turned, and scowled as fiercely as he could at his attackers, who outnumbered him three to one. Leroux was the tallest of the group, lean and athletic, but incredibly strong in spite of the Isle’s malnourishment. Although it was to be expected of him, being the son of Gaston himself.

“It bbelonged to my mo-mother first,” Carlos growled out, but the taller boy just smirked.

“It’s Antoine’s now, and you’re going to give it back.”

Antoine Tremaine, nephew of the Lady Tremaine, snickered breathlessly as he hovered just to Leroux’s left. The boy was an aristocrat through and through, and had probably never been involved in any kind of physical scuffle in his life; but he had a sadistic streak to rival his Aunt’s. Carlos didn’t doubt that whatever horrible thing they had planned for him for stealing back the scarf, it would be Antoine’s idea.

“Give it back, Freak,” Leroux demanded again, a sharp gleam in his eye.

Carlos grit his teeth, trying to contain his own retort. He could think of a million different things he would do that didn’t involve giving the scarf back; unless it was to shove it down the idiot’s throat. But he needed to bring it back home with him. He didn't even want to think about what his mother would do if he came back empty handed. Again.

“Maybe you need a little motivation.”

At those words the third boy of the group shoved his way forward, and Carlos paled, stumbling back as Clay, son of Clayton, towered over him. The boy was just like his father, broad shouldered and muscular, and entirely ruthless. Carlos gripped the scarf tightly in one hand, as the other fumbled blindly at his belt, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of his knife. The familiar feel of the weapon in his hand gave him just a bit more comfort, and he straightened from his defensive crouch, arranging his features into a cold glare.

Leroux and Antoine faltered, but Clay simply chuckled, cracking his knuckles menacingly. Words wouldn’t work on this buffoon, Carlos realized, and he shivered in anticipation as he drew a breath, his lips curling into a silent snarl. This time, Clay did falter, but then his own face twisted into a sneer, and he slammed Carlos back into the wall.

“That the best you can do, Freak?” the larger boy hissed, twisting the arm that held the knife. “Does the little puppy actually think he can beat the hunter?”

Carlos wanted to retort that if a bunch of monkeys and a wild man could snap his father’s neck, then this little puppy most definitely could do the same. But it was too many words, and his breath was suddenly cut off as the other boy viciously dug his arm into his throat. Leroux and Antoine were snickering stupidly behind them, and Carlos grit his teeth, growling a warning as he struggled against the constricting grip. His wrist jerked sharply upwards, and he was rewarded when the chokehold released, and a multitude of cursing reached his ears- some even in French, courtesy of both Leroux and Antoine.

Carlos giggled as he watched Clay, now bleeding heavily from what was definitely a missing finger, whimper and scramble around desperately, searching for his severed appendage. Unfortunately for him, Antoine noticed his amusement and glowered fiercely, Leroux closing in just behind him.

“You’re gonna pay for that, asshole,” Leroux promised, while Antoine crouched next to Clay, using his handkerchief to help staunch the bleeding.

“What do you think, Clay,” the thin boy said. “Break his fingers? Cut off a hand? An eye for an eye sort of thing, right. It’s only fair.”

“Merde,” Carlos whispered hoarsely as Leroux came at him, murderous intent lighting in the boy’s eyes as he grasped Carlos’ left arm firmly, pinning him to the brick wall behind him.

“Antoine,” Leroux called over his shoulder. “Be a dear, won’t you? You’ve got the better handwriting, after all.”

Carlos squirmed desperately in the boy’s grip, trying vainly to get away as panic began to get to him. It occurred to him that these boys were all much older and larger than him, that he was only seven and way too young to be pissing off the local thugs. That maybe he should have played the coward role instead of his callous one. But this all occurred to him too late.

Too late because Antoine had already pried his knife from his trapped hand. Too late because that very blade was now being used against him, carving mercilessly into his skin. Pain exploded along every nerve and Carlos fought hard not to release the scream that was building in his throat. He couldn’t look weak, even now.

“…and just to top it all off….”

Carlos barely registered Leroux’s sadistic words, but he did register when the hands shifted on his body, grabbing his right arm in a death grip. Before he could fully react to what was happening, there was a sharp jerk, and a loud crack rang in his ears. It was the shock of the noise that made him yell, but then the pain hit, and it hit hard. He screamed then, his whole right side seemingly engulfed in white hot flames, radiating out from his shoulder and going down the length of his arm. The weight was gone from his body and he rolled onto his left side, tears streaming down his face as he reached desperately around to cradle his injured arm. He could see boots swimming before his eyes, and he flinched, letting out another scream as it connected with his already injured shoulder.

The scarf lay on the ground before him, and he scrambled, reaching as best as he could for it despite the pain. A boot came down on the scarf, stopping his efforts, but it was different from the polished boots of his enemies. This one was blue. A curse was grumbled out from somewhere above him, and he could hear them taking a few steps forward.

“He's ours.”

The boot didn't shift from the scarf, and he could only make out the edge of the person's face from where he lay, but he didn't like his chances against another potential threat.

“He's mine now.”

It was a girl, judging from the voice, but there was an edge to her tone that made even his tormentors pause. He watched as they glared at each other, but the girl wasn't backing down, and he heard another low curse before something wet hit him in the face.

“Just you wait, runt,” he heard. “That witch won't be around to protect you forever.”

“Witch?” The girl repeated, but she sounded amused. “That's a new one. I'll be sure to add it to my list.”

With a few more curses and nasty insults, they fled, and he was left alone with his savior. Well, maybe. He sat up slowly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from making any noise, but a small whimper escaped him anyway as his arm gave a particularly nasty throb.

“I hate to sound concerned, but…are you ok?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure how to respond to that. He tried for a nod, but his head was spinning, and he grit his teeth as nausea churned in his stomach.

“Liar,” she said, but it wasn't angry or threatening.

She crouched down, and he was finally able to make out her face. She was nine years old, with pale skin, and dark hair that seemed to melt into blue at the ends. Her eyes were a pale blue, like he would imagine the sky would look if it weren't perpetually grey. He felt another pang as he recognized her as the girl from the alleyway; the one who had tripped him as he was running. He felt his features twist into a scowl, and the girl smiled, a hint of a laugh in her voice as she spoke.

“I wasn't going to pass up a perfect opportunity,” she said, rightly reading his expression.

He grimaced angrily, but didn't bother to ask what had made her change her mind.

“I'm Evie, by the way,” she continued easily.

He started to respond, then closed his mouth again as the words spasmed painfully in his throat. He winced apologetically, and she raised a brow.

“One of the quiet ones, huh?” she said. “Well, I won't ask how you got tangled up with Leroux and his goons. They did a number on you, though didn't they? Dislocated shoulder and a broken wrist! I didn't know that physically possible. Not to mention, well…” she trailed off and glanced pointedly at his left arm, which was still dripping red from being carved up by Claw.

Carlos shifted his arm out of view and cast another glare her way, wishing he could find a way to tell her off with as few words as possible. Even the two that were currently at the forefront of his mind were still too much, and he settled for sullen silence in the hopes that that could make her go away on her own.

“You should probably get that looked at.”

More sullen silence.

“I know someone, if you wanted…” She grabbed his free arm and pulled him to his feet before he could respond, and he yelped as his other arm was jostled painfully.

“Sorry,” she said, not looking it at all. She reached down and scooped up the fallen scarf, shaking it free of mud and weaving it through her fingers. “This is yours, I believe,” she began, but then she smiled, her eyes glimmering mischievously. “Well, I guess it's mine now; to repay me for saving your life.”

“Nno!” He choked out, stumbling forward and trying to grab the scarf back from her. “Please! I ne-need that!”

Her eyes widened even as she held the scarf away from him. “Oh,” she murmured. “So you're the one they were talking about! There was talk around about a kid who….”

“C-ouldn’t talk?” He finished with a sneer, but it was only to keep the flicker of hurt from showing on his face.

“Cruella, right?” She asked, pointing at him with the hand holding the scarf. He stopped, staring blankly as she extended her other hand. “Evil Queen,” she continued, grasping his free hand and shaking once before releasing him.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, unnerved by her strange attitude. “Cr-r…” he broke off with a frustrated grimace, blushing slightly, but she only seemed amused by his pathetic attempt at words.

“Come on,” she said, and with that she proceeded to drag him out of the alleyway and back into the street. He allowed himself to be led through the twists and turns, his eyes on the scarf that she'd tied around her wrist, plotting in his mind how he was going to get it back. She stopped just outside an impressive looking castle, complete with a drawbridge, though it was closed up and secured with an ominous iron fence.

“We have to go around the side,” she said, and he shook his head, staring up at the massive turrets.

“W-w-here?” He whispered, and she huffed a little.

“That friend I told you about,” she explained. “The one who can fix your arm. She lives here.”

Here? He thought, staring up at the foreboding castle. It looked like something straight out of a storybook. It even had stone gargoyles on the turrets at the top. No wait, not gargoyles…dragons. Even better.

“We have to go around the side,” Evie repeated, dragging him along once more until the stood above a narrow opening in the ground. It was low, and he couldn't even see inside it was so dark, but she nudged him towards it anyway.

“Normally we climb down, but that won't be an option for you. Just jump, but uh, don't forget to bend your knees.”

She shoved him even as he was gathering the breath to protest, and he let out a strangled yelp as he fell down through the hole. He remembered at the last second to bend his knees, but his legs still jolted painfully as he landed, and he winced, blinking as his eyes began to adjust to the dim light. He gasped as he felt something brush against him, but he was tackled and slammed against the nearest wall for what seemed like the millionth time that day. The difference here, however, came in the form of a sharp knife, which was shoved against his throat with enough force to cut him if he so much as dared to swallow.

“Who are you and why shouldn't I cut you open right here?”

The voice was male, and surprisingly young, but the skill with which he wielded the knife was enough to warrant him a sufficient threat.

“Jay, no!”

Evie scrambled down behind him, and the knife pulled away a fraction of an inch.

“He's new,” Evie continued. “I brought him to see Mal.”

“Why?”

“So she can fix him.”

“Fix?”

Here the person threatening him backed away, and Carlos gasped as his heart hammered wildly in his ears. He was finally able to see, and he took in a dirt cellar sparsely decorated with a few dark curtains, a few bare light bulbs dangling from the ceiling and illuminating the place. He stared up into the face of a tanned youth, about 11 or 12, with long black hair framing his face from beneath a red knit cap.

“Leroux and his crew,” Evie said in explanation, as the boy took in his injured arm.

“So you saved him out of the goodness of your heart.” The boy's tone was mocking, his mouth twisted into a smirk, and Evie scowled at him.

“It was my fault they caught him in the first place,” she said, and there may have been something like sorrow or even guilt in her voice before it was replaced by a haughty sort of triumph. “I tripped him.”

Jay laughed, a short clipped bark that made the smaller boy flinch to hear it. “Well, whose is he, anyway?”

He froze as the boy turned to him, and he tried to summon what little courage he had to return the curious stare. He drew a slow breath, tracing the syllables silently with his tongue before pushing them forward and adding sound.

“Cr-ruella,” he said, wincing at the stutter, cursing himself for not being able to get it right.

“So you're the runt!” Jay exclaimed, but it wasn't quite as condescending as it had been coming from Leroux. “They said Cruella's kid couldn't talk, but I thought they meant at all!”

“Jay!” Evie hissed. “Don't be rude!”

“Nnnot a runt,” he muttered, shooting the boy his own dark look.

“Carlos, right?” Jay asked, extending a hand and ignoring the reaction.

He nodded, accepting the hand warily and grimacing as the boy squeezed a little too hard.

“Well, I'm Jay. Son of Jafar.” There was a cockiness about the way he said it, but also something else, though Carlos couldn't quite grasp what it could be. “And you've met Her Royal Highness,” Jay continued, winking as he motioned to Evie. “So all that's left is…”

“Who are you?”

The voice was cold as it swept through the room, and silence fell as both Evie and Jay straightened from their casual poses. Carlos turned to see a girl, clad in purple and green leather, ominously stepping out from the shadows and giving him a death glare. Her eyes were a piercing green, almost as intense as the green in her jacket, and her hair was a dark purple that nearly perfectly matched her boots. She couldn't have been much older than he was; maybe nine or ten at the most. Despite her appearance, there was an air of danger and authority about her that made Carlos take a step back as she strode into the room.

“Well?” She snapped, and he opened his mouth and closed it a few times wordlessly, trying to make words work in his favor.

“He's Carlos,” Evie jumped in, glancing at him with a worried look. “I know I shouldn't have brought him here but you were the only one I could think of to….”

Mal raised a hand, stopping Evie's flow of words. “I'm asking him.”

“He can't talk.” This one was from Jay, and though he stood with confidence there was hesitation in his eyes as he faced the girl, who was so much smaller than him that it would have been laughable if she weren't so terrifying.

Mal glanced over at him curiously, and he tried to make himself appear smaller and more pathetic than he already was. His arm had gone numb at this point, but he was more concerned now about how he was going to escape from this unscathed.

“That's new,” Mal replied slowly, walking towards him. He backed away, but ran into the wall, dirt falling from above and into his hair.

“Are you afraid of me, Carlos?”

He swallowed, a soft shudder going through him at the way she dragged out his name. She smiled a little, chuckling darkly at his no doubt terrified expression.

“Good,” she said. “You should be.”

Carlos

As it turned out, Carlos hadn’t entirely wrong in his fear of Mal, but looking back on it now, Carlos couldn’t help but smile. Even then Mal had been a fearless leader, and once she’d finally accepted his presence in their group, she’d worked just as hard to protect him as she did Evie and Jay. Not so much herself, though. Mal would often throw herself headlong into any situation, and deal with the repercussions as they came. Which was often and typically violently delivered.

Carlos’ lips twitch in amusement, but he didn’t move from his position on the rooftop. How the tables had turned, he thinks. That now he’s the one looking out for them. But someone had to stand guard, and he knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep. Not after seeing all those dead frogs and fish in the jars in the lab; bringing back horrible memories of all those times he’d been forced to kill and cut up animals back on the Isle in attempts to make him toughen up.

And he especially wouldn’t sleep in that plush, Auradon bed, so different from home; so right and yet, so wrong. The closest he’d ever gotten to a soft, warm bed had been when Cruella had thrown him into the tumbler with all her other furs during one of her fits. After being battered and bruised and nearly crushed, she’s simply left him there, and he’d burrowed down with all the other coats and cried himself to sleep.

Carlos grimaces, shaking his head in attempt to clear it of his thoughts and memories. He wasn’t a little kid anymore, and he wasn’t helpless. He rubs absently at the scars on his arms, still wondering what had driven him to show them to Ben. Prince Ben, he corrects himself quickly. The others might have let their guard down here, but he knew better. And he wasn’t going to be helpless again.

Jay

“Aw, man,” Jay groans happily as he rubs the last bit of water from his hair. “Working showers and these amazing beds; I think I’d like staying here a while. What do you think bro?”

He pauses when he doesn’t receive a response, and sticks his head out the bathroom door. “Carlos?”

The room is quiet and empty, devoid of the clanking of metallic pieces from Carlos’ latest project, and Jay quickly exits the bathroom, sliding on a pair of shorts as he jogs across the carpet. As he runs, he scans the room desperately for any sign of the other boy, though he knows instinctively that he isn’t there. Then the open window catches his eye, and he huffs a sigh of equal parts relief and frustration as he realizes.

Climbing the ladder attached to the side of building took him straight to the roof, where a certain blond haired youth sat curled along the ledge. If it weren’t for the hair, and the spotted sleeves sticking out from beneath his cloak, Jay wouldn’t have even seen him he was so still.

“Carlos?” Jay calls softly as he approaches, careful to keep his voice low and even. Despite that, the other boy still flinches violently, his whole body tense as he whips around to glare at Jay.

Carlos makes a soft sound when he realizes that it’s only him, but doesn’t bother saying anything, instead resuming his position on the edge of the roof. Jay creeps the rest of the way over and hunches down next to Carlos, careful not to let any part of him dangle over the side or brush against the other boy, in case he went into another of his ‘fits.’

“What’cha doing bro?” Jay asks, staring out over the dorms while also keeping an eye on the boy beside him.

Carlos shrugs a shoulder, both knees tucked close to his chest, but his hands were free, and fiddling with his dog tail.

“So you just decided to climb out onto the roof and sit on the edge for fun?” Jay probes, keeping his words light. “Not feeling suicidal, are you? I mean, I know this place is nuts, but….”

Carlos growls softly, and Jay looks over to see the boy’s features arranged in a grimace, a sharp light of pain in his eyes. Jay winceds, kicking himself for his insensitivity. There had been a very brief, but very dark period of Carlos’ early years where Cruella’s madness had tilted towards the suicidal, and several times had attempted to take Carlos with her. It wasn’t something any of them liked to talk about, Carlos especially.

“Right,” Jay mumbles, looking away. “Sorry, stupid of me.”

“Y-yeah.”

Jay glances back, but Carlos is definitely avoiding his eyes now, glaring out over the lawns. Jay sighs, cursing his stupidity and trying to think of how to dig himself out of this hole.

“So,” he tries again after the silence had gotten too thick for his tastes. “What are you doing out here Carlos?”

The other boy groans under his breath, but his hands move; his index and pointer fingers hovering just before his eyes, palm facing outward; then he gestures with his fingers, hovering them around the general area.

[Looking around.]

Jay chuckles a bit, suddenly getting it. “Standing guard, you mean?” he teases, nudging Carlos’ shoulder and ignoring the way he tenses at the contact. “You know we don’t need to do that here, right? We’re safe.”

Carlos shakes his head, his eyes narrowed angrily as he signs; pointing first to Jay; then touching a flat palm to the side of his head, near his temple, he twists his palm outward before pointing again at Jay.

[You don’t know that!]

“Woah, chill,” Jay says, lifting his own hands in a surrender motion. “I just meant…well, no, I meant it. We don’t need to watch out for anything.”

Carlos shakes his head, signing again. [You don’t know that.]

Jay sighs, leaning back from the edge a bit. He knew old habits didn’t die, and he couldn’t blame Carlos for this particular habit sticking. They were in a new place, after all. But Jay had hoped that maybe, at least, before the run in with Kropp and that asshole Chad, maybe things could be different for them here.

He shakes his head, knowing that he couldn’t afford to think like that. There was no ‘better.’ The only reason they were here was as part of some twisted experiment. An attempt to ease the consciences of the guilty Auradonians and show the poor, suffering Isle children that life was better in a place where everybody randomly bursts into song every five minutes. No, there was nothing better for them here; they just had to get the wand so they could take over and really make things different.

Carlos still hadn’t moved, and Jay frowns as he notices the shadows under the boy’s eyes.

“Hey,” Jay whispers, edging back over. “Exactly how long have you been up here?”

Carlos shrugs again in response, and Jay scowls, frustrated at the worry and concern he can feel rising inside him. He knew Carlos wouldn’t let this go, wouldn’t give up his post for anything once he’d set it up, but Jay also knew that Mal would kill him if she found out he’d let the other boy stay out on the roof all night.

“Ok,” Jay drawls, deciding. “How about this…we do it in shifts, ok? You’ve been out here the entire time I’ve been showering, so why don’t you go in and get one while I stay look out.”

Carlos hums shortly, and Jay glances over hopefully.

“Ok?” Jay tries again. “After that we can both stand watch, right?”

Carlos nods slowly in response, and Jay sighs quietly in relief. He stands quickly and extends a hand, but the other boy scrambles up by himself, still silent as he climbs back through the window and into the bedroom. Jay shakes his head, latching the glass firmly behind him before crossing to his side of the closet and grabbing a dark gold shirt with long sleeves.

“You’re gonna love the shower dude,” Jay brags to Carlos as he pulls the shirt over his head. “It’s a bit confusing cuz it’s got so many knobs, but I swear, it’s like…”

The bathroom door slams shut firmly, cutting Jay off abruptly. He frowns, striding across the room to the door. He tries the handle but it’s locked, and Jay raps on the wood.

“Carlos?” he calls through the door. “You ok?”

A heavy thud is all he gets in answer, and he backs away from the door as it jars in the frame; a sure sign of something heavy just having been thrown at it.

“Alright,” Jay calls back. “I get when I’m not wanted.”

“Bet Jaf-ar wwould disagree.”

Jay stiffens at those muffled words, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “You want to come say that to my face, runt?” he growls back.

Absolute silence from the other side of the door, and Jay kicks the wood hard with his foot. “I’m serious, Carlos,” he snaps. “Is there something we need to talk about?”

“You’re sup-possed to be sta-standing guard,” Carlos mutters from inside the bathroom, and Jay kicks the door again.

“Fuck that!” he snarls.

“Fu-fuck you,” Carlos retorts, and though the words sound shakier than his usual stuttered responses, it’s effective enough to thoroughly piss Jay off.

It doesn't occur to him that the insults and fierce arguments are entirely unlike the other boy's usual attitude; that Carlos had been unnervingly quiet since the lab. It doesn't occur to him to note the added shakiness of the boy's words, or recall that fact that retreating and shoving everyone away was one of the warning signs; the younger boy's attempt to hide himself away before he exploded. All that does occur to Jay is his anger, and he was too engrossed in it to notice much else.

“Dammit Carlos,” Jay hisses threateningly. “Don't make me get Mal back in here; she will go full dragon on your ass.”

He kicks the door again just to emphasize his point. “I mean it….”

“So d-do I,” Carlos calls back, but his voice is half drowned out by the sound of the water suddenly turning on.

Jay swears furiously at the door, and is about to start kicking it down when something clatters to the floor and a harsh gasp sounds from the other side. He presses himself to the wood, knocking instead of banging.

“Carlos?” he calls, suddenly much more subdued.

There's complete silence from the bathroom, the water still pounding ominously in the background.

“Shit,” Jay hisses. “Carlos!”

There's an almost imperceptible splash, followed by a muffled whimper, and Jay feels his insides twist painfully.

“Fuck,” he breathes, rapping on the door with urgency. “Carlos? I’m not mad, just…just open the door!”

Silenced whimpering was all that he heard in response, and Jay sucks in a sharp breath as his mind begins concocting every manner of horrible scenario. He knows instinctively, what is happening, what this is; but the knowledge does little to reassure him. Not when he's locked out and entirely unable to reach the other boy. And if he started panicking, there'd be no way he could help Carlos. Jay tried to draw a steadying breath, but his nerves are shot and all he can manage is a sharp intake before he's pacing frantically in front of the bathroom door.

“Fuck,” he chants breathlessly. “Shit fuck fuckity fucking fuck.”

He couldn't think, but the cursing helped at least, clearing enough of his frustration that he could try. He knew he couldn't get to Carlos, but he was in no position to talk the other boy out of his fear. That was Evie's job.

“Evie,” Jay whispers, the idea lighting in his head. He turns back to the door and taps gently at the wood. “Hey Carlos,” he murmurs quietly. “I'm going to get Mal and Evie, ok? I won't be gone long, I'm just bringing the girls here.”

There's still no response, but Jay hadn't really expected one. He considers silence at least, to be a better answer than screaming. Jay shudders, trying to suppress the memories and fears that threaten to resurface.

“Stay focused,” he mutters to himself as he crosses to the window. “Get Mal and Evie and get back for Carlos. That’s the goal.”

Jay inches out over the ledge he and Carlos had sat on and drops easily over the side, gripping the sill above him with his fingers while his toes find purchase in the brick beneath. He inches along the side of the building, counting the windows as he goes until he reaches the fourth window down from his and Carlos’ bedroom. The window is dark, but that had never stopped him before and it doesn’t deter him now.

Jay stretches himself down and carefully drops, grasping the window as he falls and lifting himself back up. He pauses to catch his breath and grin in appreciation of his own stunt before resuming his serious demeanor and rapping urgently against the window. Instantly a light flickers on inside, and Jay swings himself through the window the moment the latch clicks open.

He lands beside Evie’s bed on the balls of his feet, the girls herself sitting up in the bed while Mal stands by the window, her hand still hovering on the latch.

“Where’s Carlos?” Mal demands before Jay can fully draw a breath.

“Locked himself…in the bathroom,” Jay pants, his words broken up as he catches his breath. “He’s having…another…fit.”

Evie jerks like someone had struck her, vaulting out of bed with a sharp cry while Mal’s eyes flicker violently with green as she swears hoarsely.

“And you just left him there?” Mal growls, and Jay cringes back from her anger, retreating towards the window.

“Well I couldn’t very well get to him, could I?” he tries to explain himself, but Mal is beyond reasoning with like this.

“Idiot!” Mal snarls, barely pausing to shove her feet into shoes before she pushes her way past Jay and lifts herself silently out of the window.

Jay turns to Evie, hoping for some kind of understanding, but the other girl doesn’t even look at him as she pulls her cloak around her shoulders and follows after their leader. Jay huffs a sigh, shaking his head as he follows them both, closing the window firmly behind him.

Mal

Mal doesn’t hesitate even for a second once she reaches the boys’ dorm room. The minute her feet touch the carpet, she strides across the floor towards the bathroom, pulling a pin from her hair as she does so. Unlike Evie, who insisted on wearing all sorts of bows and ribbons and other disgustingly flowery stuff in her hair, Mal only allowed herself one small hair pin, and solely for practical purposes. Like picking locks.

She wasn’t as fluent in lock picking as Jay or Carlos, but she’d done her fair share of breaking and entering back on the Isle. The bathroom door’s lock didn’t stand a chance, and clicks open with little manipulation from her. Despite what she wanted to do, Mal didn’t burst through the door. Instead, she crouches down in front of the wood and knocks as softly as she can, which still sounds too loud to her ears; despite being partially drowned out by the sound of running water.

“Carlos,” she calls, quietly but firmly through the door. “It’s Mal; open the door.”

There’s nothing from inside the bathroom to indicate that the boy had heard her, but Mal is almost positive that she can hear crying beneath the rushing water. She stifles a curse and tries knocking again as Evie and Jay scramble through the window behind her.

“Is he ok?” Evie asks as soon as she’s inside. “Should I…?”

“No,” Mal cuts her off quickly, shaking her head. It was obvious enough that Carlos wasn’t ok, but she knew that wasn’t what the other girl had meant. “I got this.”

And she did, even if this particular job typically went to Evie. Mal was good at being firm, though; talking Carlos down and not letting him dodge away or retreat like the other girl usually did. And Mal always wanted answers, whereas Evie let it slide and just focused on the comforting. But Mal could do this, and she would, if Carlos would just open the damn door.

“What happened?” Mal demands of Jay when she hears his footsteps behind her. “How did this one start?”

Jay shuffles in a way that Mal thinks means he’s shrugging, and his voice is baffled but defensive as he answers.

“Honestly, I don’t know! It just came out of nowhere.”

“Obviously not,” Mal snaps back. “If it’s this bad…if he’s locked himself away.”

Carlos’ episodes typically followed some kind of pattern, and there was always a trigger. The trick was in finding out what it was that had triggered him, but Carlos always tried to hide himself away before the actual event occurred; whether by becoming overly defensive and physically hiding, or by shoving everyone away from him. The worst ones were always the ones that he shoved people away for, and Mal could never get it through to him that they weren’t going anywhere and that it only made it worse when he did that.

“The lab,” Evie chimes in behind her. “The dead animals in the jars…could that have upset him so much it started this?”

“Could be,” Mal mutters, but she knows that that’s not really it. He wouldn’t have locked himself away if it were just that.

“He was quiet after, though,” Jay tries, correctly reading her tone. “Too quiet. And he was up on the roof for a good hour or so after you guys left.”

“Doing what?” Evie says, incredulously, while Mal straightens by the door, turning her head to see Jay as he responds.

“Said he was just looking around,” Jay answers. “Trying to be casual about it, but he was standing guard.”

Evie grimaces in sympathetic understanding. “Old habits,” she sighs, but Mal frowns.

“What did you do?” she asks Jay, and if it sounded more accusing than she intended, she didn’t try and take it back.

“I didn’t do anything,” Jay protests hotly. “I just wanted him to come inside, maybe get a shower and relax. I told him I’d keep watch to try and make him feel better…he’s the one who started hurling insults.”

“What did he say?” Evie asks, raising a brow, and Jay grits his jaw angrily.

“He shut himself in the bathroom and then threw something at the door when I tried to talk to him,” he says lowly. “I made a joke, said I knew when I wasn’t wanted, and he said that my dad…that Jafar would disagree.”

Evie stifles a scoff, and Jay glowers at her, silencing her amusement. “Anyway,” the taller boy continues. “It went downhill from there. I got mad, he got mad, I said I’d get Mal to kick his ass if he didn’t quit being a jerk…I don’t know, but then I realized what was happening. Too late at that point.”

Jay winces at that, dropping his gaze to floor, but it lifts back up when Mal stands from her spot by the door.

“So he’d been showing signs all night, but he hurt your feelings and so you get angry and don’t even bother to notice until he was too far gone,” Mal is so furious she can barely get the words out, but her point gets across and Evie pales while Jay’s hands clench at his sides.

“M,” Evie says quietly. “You know it’s not like that.”

“But it’s clearly like something though, isn’t it Jay?” Mal snarls. “Or else it wouldn’t have reached this point and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

She turns away from him before she does something she might not regret later, and instead focuses on calming herself down. She couldn’t afford to wait now. It was apparent that this was going to be one of the bad ones, and she wouldn’t risk worsening it by carrying her anger in with her. Mal draws a slow breath and then taps on the door again, keeping her voice even but calm.

“Carlos, I’m coming in, alright? It’s just me, but I need you to scoot away from the door, ok?”

There’s still no answer, but Mal turns the knob and carefully pushes the door open. It only opens about a quarter of the way before it’s stopped by something, and Mal sighs softly, turning her body and pressing herself against the door frame. She squeezes her way in before closing the door again behind her, sliding slowly down the wall and facing Carlos, who was curled up just inside the door.

“Carlos?” Mal says quietly, and the smaller boy shivers, trying to tuck himself into an even smaller ball and whimpering softly.

The shower is running into the tub beside her, steam and heat filling the small space so it was almost impossible to breathe. Carlos’ pants and jacket were hung over a rack that was clearly meant for towels, given the array of cloth stacked atop it; but his shorts and spotted red shirt are soaking wet and plastered to his body, his hair clinging in damp strands to his face, and Mal stifles a curse as she realizes what must have happened. She leans over and shuts off the shower faucet, drawing an easier breath that wasn’t so filled with steam.

“I’m not mad at you Carlos,” Mal says as she leans back against the wall. “But I need you to look at me. Can you do that?”

He doesn’t respond, not even with a whimper, and Mal grits her jaw. The Evie approach wasn’t working: time to go full Mal. She straightens from her casual pose against the wall and draws a steadying breath, her voice firm and brokering no arguments as she speaks.

“Damn it Carlos, look at me.”

She doesn’t yell, but her request is absolute, and Carlos flinches in his little ball, a sharp gasp slipping past his lips as he snaps his head up to look at her. His eyes are wide and wet with tears, but they’re clear enough that Mal can tell he’s focusing on her.

“Ssorry,” he whispers, and his voice is high and thick from crying.

“It's fine,” Mal says quickly, dismissing the apology. “I just needed you to look at me.”

Carlos whimpers this time, tightening his body once again and ducking his head like he's waiting for her to start hitting him. Mal grimaces, knowing that exact thing would have happened if they'd been back on the Isle, and she had been someone else. She shoves all that aside, though, forcing herself to stay focused on Carlos, who was rocking and whimpering pleas and apologies; promises to not do it again; to be good. It always makes her sick, seeing him like this, but she wasn't about to make this worse by giving in to her own feelings.

“Hey,” she says firmly. “Eyes on me.”

He obeys, lifting his head, but he's gasping again, his whole body shuddering as he fights to catch his breath. His eyes widen and Mal can practically feel his pain as he starts crying again.

“Breathe,” Mal commands him, resisting the sudden and uncharacteristic urge to rush forward and physically comfort him. “Eyes on me, Carlos. Breathe.”

He shakes his head, blinking hard as he trembles. His next breath is sharp and desperate, his response a helpless rasp of air.

“Ca-can't.”

“You can,” Mal insists quietly, her own voice level despite the slight tremor of her hands. “Just like I am, slow and steady.”

“Aaair,” Carlos hisses, rocking harder as though that would help.

“There's plenty of air,” Mal responds evenly. “Just breathe, Carlos. Like I am.”

She draws another slow breath to demonstrate, and the boy tries, his whole body heaving with the effort.

“Good,” Mal praises lowly, her voice still firm and even. “Do it again, slower.”

The smaller boy shivers again, and Mal eyes the water collecting around him. She'd have to hurry this up. He was definitely going to get sick if he sat soaking wet like this for much longer. Not that she really cared...but it would be nice to avoid any more suspicion thrown their way, and Carlos suddenly falling ill would certainly do that.

Mal’s eyes snap back to the boy in question as he whimpers again and once more tries to curl up again.

“No you don't,” Mal scolds him, nudging him carefully with her foot. “Eyes on me, remember?”

When his eyes meet hers this time, they're narrowed, a flicker of something hard flashing through them. Mal allows the satisfied smile to show on her face, and is rewarded when Carlos sits up further, the annoyance growing in his eyes even if his body was still fighting for air.

“Breathe,” Mal reminds him, and he shivers slightly, but does as he's told, the air coming a bit easier now that the majority of the steam had cleared.

“Ssorry,” he whispers again, drawing another breath that was more like a gasp. “Sssorry.”

“You don't have to be sorry,” Mal says, shaking her head. “I'm not mad at you.”

Carlos' trembling eases a bit at that, his eyes clearing a little more as he catches his breath. Mal lets him breathe for a few more moments before deciding she could move. Slowly so she didn't set him off again, she reaches up and grabs one of the towels she'd seen hanging on a rack earlier, unfolding it slowly and draping it over her lap. Carlos had been watching her every move, but when he saw where she'd put the towel he frowns, and his eyes peer up at her suspiciously.

“Cold in here,” Mal says easily in explanation, and Carlos shivers again, blinking as though he'd just realized that he was wet.

“Mal?” He says, and his voice is still a little hoarse, but it's his own, full of confusion as he stares at her.

“No,” Mal responds flatly. “I'm the Fairy Godmother.”

But inside, she's practically giddy with relief that he'd recognized her and was starting to come out of it. Carlos frowns even harder at her deadpan, and starts to shift his weight before wincing in pain that he fails to hide in his vulnerable state.

“Careful,” Mal warns belatedly. “You've been curled up in one position for a while.”

“Wh-what?” He tries to say, but then he takes in the rest of the bathroom and seems to realize. “Oh,” he whispers, tucking his chin to his chest.

“You want this towel?” Mal asks, to distract him from his embarrassment and hopefully nudge him in the right direction. He glances up at her long enough to spot the thick green towel in her arms and nods, reaching for it blindly as he ducks hid head again.

“What is it then?” Mal asks, lifting her hand out of reach.

He peers up at her, eyes blinking slowly as he stares at the towel. He doesn't verbally respond, but his hands move; his palms up and fingers spread slightly, he shrugs his shoulders and furrows his brow at her.

[What?]

“The thing that's bothering you,” Mal says, forgiving the sign language. She'd let him talk like that for now, but she wanted answers, and she would get them from him.

Carlos shakes his head, his hands forming ‘O’ shapes as he hold them near his shoulders.

[Nothing.]

“Of course,” Mal says sharply, scowling. “And nothing is what drove you to another fit.”

Carlos flinches at that, but he's still frowning, his hands moving faster now as he came out of his shell; his left hand raised and fingers pressed together like he was holding something; then he snaps open his hand and lowers it slightly before pointing towards her; his index finger just off from indicating her directly. He continues, bringing both hands up again near his torso; fingers spread and palms facing him, he moves his hands back and forth with a slightly scrunched expression on his face, frowning sharply as he shakes his head at her.

[Drop it. It doesn't matter.]

“But clearly it matters to you,” Mal counters relentlessly. “So it matters to all of us.”

Carlos bares his teeth in a silent snarl, but Mal wasn’t about to be intimidated by the show of false bravado. She grits her jaw against his attack and straightens further against the wall. “I’m still waiting,” Mal says, and Carlos’ hands reach to fiddle with his dog tail, before his fingers close on empty air and he blinks, looking up at his out-of-reach pants and the red dog tail attached to the belt.

“Carlos,” Mal prods.

The boy grimaces, shaking his head and bringing up a hand in a loose fist shape, brushing his thumb along the underside of his chin.

[Don’t.]

“Don’t what, Carlos?” Mal replies. “Care? Because I think it’s been well established at this point that I have to care about what happens to you, despite better judgement saying otherwise.”

Carlos doesn’t look at her, but his hands continue moving; bringing a hand up to his cheek in a loose fist shape; four fingers folded down with his thumb pressed just underneath: a modified version of the sign for ‘apple,’ combined with the sign for the letter ‘E;' before furrowing his brows in question and shaking an index finger back and forth.

[Where’s Evie?]

“In the other room with Jay,” Mal answers. “And I’m going to pretend I’m not offended by that question, and wait for you to answer mine.”

“It doesn’t ma-ma-matter,” Carlos snaps shakily, rocking again as he became agitated.

Mal tosses him the towel to distract him again, and he glowers at her, but accepts it, wrapping it around himself and almost disappearing underneath the cotton material. “What doesn’t matter?” Mal asks.

“Th-this,” Carlos retorts, rubbing his face roughly and muffling his words. “This…it does-doesn’t ma-tter! We’re only he-here to get the wwwand, so nothing that happ-ens here matters, so wh-why should I g...et upset o-o-over it?!”

Mal falters, cut off guard by his vehemence, and she finds herself dropping her stern attitude and leaning forward, a genuine…sympathy filling her.

“Carlos,” she begins, but the boy shakes his head hard and stands abruptly.

He wobbles on his feet a moment, but then he rushes for the door, barely pausing for breath as he tugs the door open and stumbles out into the room beyond. Mal hears Evie’s voice calling the boy’s name, and Jay says something as well, but there’s nothing from Carlos except for a frantic scrambling sound. Mal sighs to herself on the bathroom floor, thinking over his words as something slams in the other room and Jay and Evie start talking again, their voices lifting in pleading tones.

‘Nothing that happens here matters…’ is that really what he thought? Well, obviously it was, but to think that they didn’t care, no. That she didn’t care. That’s what that had been; his accusation at her for pushing. Not just pushing for the wand, for recognition and approval, but pushing despite the fact that such things had just been brutally crushed for him by a figure that should have been -if not trustworthy, since no one was truly trustworthy in her experiences- at least encouraging of such ideas.

“Damn,” Mal mutters to herself, her eyes flitting around the bathroom and once more taking in the signs of the damage. The water could be mopped up, but the fear was still there, lingering in every muted drip into the tub, fear that she had helped to place there.

It took Mal a moment to realize what it was that was squeezing her insides, as the feeling was something almost entirely foreign to her. But there was no mistaking the churning in her gut as she stared at the signs of the damage she’d helped cause…guilt.

Chapter Text

Evie

“You’re late, Evelyn.”

The voice was cold and entirely unforgiving as the girl stumbled through the door. She froze just in the entrance, quickly arranging her features into a mask similar to the woman’s; revealing nothing as she folded her hands demurely in front of her.

“I’m sorry Mother,” the girl said meekly, though inside she was screaming the words, her hands trembling minutely. Full name was never a good sign. “I didn’t realize how late it was, and I was delayed…Maleficent….”

“Do not make excuses,” the woman snapped, and the girl flinched. “A true Princess takes responsibility for her actions.”

“Yes Mother,” the girl whispered hoarsely, forcing herself to remain upright as the woman rose from her place in the shadows and approached her.

The Evil Queen was fierce in her anger, and though there were no obvious twists of her expression, her fury was there in the cast of her eyes; the slight twitch of a brow, the curl of a lip. Evie fought to keep her mask in place as thoughts of poisoned apples and dungeons leapt through her mind, thinking bitterly that surely the only reason Snow White had managed to stay so cheerful through her story was because she had never had to face Grimmhilde in all her glory.

Her thoughts were broken by a sharp snap, and Evie flinched again, her body reacting out of instinct and jerking sharply backwards. But there was no pain, and when Evie dared to bring her head up she realized that it had only been her Mother’s fingers snapping, and not a blow. Although the look in the woman’s eyes did promise violence, and Evie shivered, shrinking under the forth of the woman’s gaze.

“Stand up straight,” Grimmhilde said sharply, her hands darting out and gripping Evie’s shoulders firmly. “A true Princess doesn’t slouch, and certainly doesn’t cower.”

“Yes Mother,” Evie murmured, the words barely making it past her suddenly tightening throat.

“Head high, Evelyn,” the former Queen intoned, her fingers finding the girl’s jaw. “Smile,” she hissed.

“Yes Mother,” Evie recited dutifully, swallowing the stone in her throat and easily slipping a smile onto the mask that was her face.

“Honestly, you are royalty,” the woman said, her brow twitching again, her lip curling just a little higher. “Act. Like. It.”

The girl nodded this time, not trusting herself to speak. Her voice would crack if she tried, she knew it. Her mother’s hands hadn’t left her yet, adjusting her hair now, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

“Is this dirt in your hair?” the woman asked, her voice pitched minutely higher. It was her incredulous tone, but also another warning.

“It--it must have been from when I was with Mal,” Evie guessed, though she made sure to keep her tone contrite and apologetic.

“Maleficent,” her Mother said, and though her voice was still hard, a grudging sort of respect had crept into her tone. “Now there’s a woman who knows how to carry herself. I don’t think I can say the same for her daughter, though. Too…wild.”

The daughter of a Fae was too wild. The thought amused Evie, and a soft chuckle slipped past her lips. Quickly she clamped down on the sound and turned it into a cough, but her Mother hadn’t noticed.

“Now then,” the woman, said, stepping back to peer at her handiwork. “What have I forgotten?”

“Mother please,” Evie said, a reluctant plea in the young girl’s voice as she fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. “I look fine.”

Crack. The blow came then, a harsh slap that made the girl’s ears ring and lights flash behind her eyes. She cringed back with a cry and received another slap for her show of weakness.

“You don’t look fine!” Her Mother shouted above her. “Fine is for the tramps on the corner! Unless that’s what you’d prefer?”

“Please,” Evie whimpered, attempting to retreat and receiving yet another slap.

“But you look fine,” her Mother hissed, her voice just as poisonous as her apples. “As fine as any slut on this forsaken rock!”

“Forgive me,” Evie begged, trying to straighten so she didn’t appear as worthless as she was. “I didn’t mean…”

“Be silent,” her Mother commanded. “Princesses don’t beg.”

Evie bowed her head, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from crying, but a tear slid down her face regardless.

“And now you’ve ruined your makeup!” Her Mother’s voice was a wail of disappointment and fury. “What am I going to do with you, Evelyn?”

“I’m sorry,” Evie shook her head, blindly stumbling back towards the door.

“Evelyn?” Her Mother demanded, and Evie reached behind her without seeing.

“Evelyn!” Her Mother yelled shrilly, her voice hard again. “Don’t you dare run from me!”

But Evie was already gone, bolting down the street and away from the house, tears streaking across her face and blurring her already hazy vision. She tripped, but picked herself up before she could hit the pavement, stumbling down a side street and gasping hard to avoid sobbing. Her feet took her with no conscious thought from her except ‘away,’ and so she was entirely unprepared for the voice when it came.

“Hey…what’s up Beauty Queen?”

She jumped, slamming back into a tapestry covered brick wall, a harsh gasp slipping past her lips. A dull laugh sounded from the dark before her, and the voice spoke again, soft and slightly slurred.

“I guess nothing entirely bad if it drove you to me.”

“Jay?” Evie whispered, suddenly recognizing his voice.

“No,” he murmured. “Some other devilishly handsome street rat.”

She squinted through the dark and was finally able to make him out, propped up against another tapestry in the far corner. His head lay back against the wall behind him, but he had twisted the rest of his body so that instead of facing the door, he was facing the opposite wall.

“Come on in,” Jay mumbled, his voice thick. “I don’t have much to offer except some stale wine, but it still does its job pretty good.”

“Well,” Evie said, out of habit.

“Huh?”

“Does its job pretty well,” Evie corrected, wiping her face with her sleeve before walking further into the room.

Jay scoffed, but the sound broke off hallway and turned into a choked groan. Evie moved a little faster, starting to reach out to him, but he stiffened, drawing away from her and holding out his hand.

“Don’t,” he growled, and it would have been threatening if she couldn’t see the way his hand shook.

“Are you ok?”

“Oh I am fan-fucking-tastic,” Jay rasped, grinning at her broadly.

Evie nodded, sitting down slowly against the wall adjacent to him. She peered closely at her…ally? They’d known each other long enough to be something by now…Whatever he was...she saw that despite his smile, his eyes were tight, and his lips stiff in what was definitely more a grimace than anything amusing.

“Let me see,” she demanded, and Jay glowered at her, flipping her off rather easily for someone who was in so much pain.

“Jay,” Evie snapped, and the boy raised an eyebrow at her.

“For a second I thought the Evil Queen was here, but then I figured she wouldn’t humiliate herself by stepping into this sty, with such a lowly mortal as myself.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not her,” Evie said, ignoring his mockery. “Let me see.”

“Why don’t you worry about your own bruises?” Jay snapped harshly.

“Because we both know that yours is more than just bruises,” Evie countered firmly.

“Piss off,” Jay snarled, but his eyes had flickered, and she knew she was right.

“No.”

“Why not?” the boy said, but it sounded more like a whine as he closed his eyes again and leaned back against the wall.

“Because you’re my…” Evie faltered, and Jay opened an eye, peering at her stoically.

“Go on,” the other boy pressed, but something about his tone seemed almost hopeful, instead of mocking like he usually was.

“Friend,” Evie decided with a nod, and both of Jay’s eyes opened and fixed on her.

“Damn,” the boy said lowly. “Friends with royalty.”

Evie’s eyes narrowed at him, but he continued, smiling a bit more now despite the pain he was in.

“What sort of ‘friend’ are we talking here, though?” he said. “Like, am I just a friend who’s a stepping stone, or is this like a ‘friends with benefits’ deal?”

“You have the benefit of remaining alive,” Evie retorted. “And not dying a slow and painful death.”

“Death by apple,” Jay chuckled, but then he winced, his smile twisting in a grimace. “Ow,” he murmured, shifting away from the wall.

“Bad score?” Evie guessed, but Jay shook his head, still grimacing.

“Nah,” he hissed. “Interrupted a business deal...really missed the warning signs on that one. Though to be fair, they were speaking in Arabic, so…”

“Isn’t that supposed to be your native tongue?” Evie questioned with a raised brow.

“Yeah, well, I’ve never had to use it for much,” Jay protested. “And Dad only uses it around me when he’s angry, so all I’m really fluent in are swear words.”

“As if regular swears weren’t enough for you,” Evie said with a dramatic sigh, and she was rewarded when Jay laughed again, his expression lifting.

“I do like my curse words,” the boy joked.

“I know,” Evie rolled her eyes at him.

“And I thought you liked singing at the parlor,” Jay said softly, suddenly serious. “But you came running out of there fast enough, so I take it things didn’t go too good for you either.”

Evie stiffened, but covered it up quickly with a laugh, reaching over and prying the bottle from Jay’s hands.

“Ok,” she said with another forced laugh. “I know by now that when Jay gets all dark and brooding, it’s time to confiscate the alcohol.”

“Not brooding,” Jay mumbled in protest, but he let the bottle go easily enough. “Dark, maybe. But the brooding is more Mal’s thing.”

“Cheers to that,” Evie agreed, smile still intact as sat back again.

“But why did you run?” Jay insisted. “Won’t that just make her madder?”

“Angrier,” Evie sighed. “And why do you care?”

“Friends…?” Jay dragged out the word as though it were another language. “Isn’t that part of it? Caring, or whatever?”

“Unfortunately,” Evie agreed, though she wouldn’t lie and say it was all bad. “She’ll forget about it eventually.”

“You’re talking about the woman who tried to carve out her step-daughter’s heart because she was prettier than her,” Jay scoffed. “And she held that grudge how long?”

“Then you’re currently conversing with a corpse,” Evie responded solemnly. “And therefore, hallucinating.”

Jay chuckled. “Well you’re certainly the best looking corpse I’ve ever talked to.”

Evie felt heat rising in her cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the forming bruises. “I’m really not, though,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “If I were, I wouldn’t be worried about being one, and I definitely wouldn’t be talking with you.”

“To being an above average looking corpse, then,” Jay amended easily, raising his hand in a mock toast.

“Above average,” Evie cheered quietly, and she lifted the stale wine to her lips and tried to ignore the feeling that it was her last meal.

Jay

The second the bathroom door slams open, Jay is on his feet, but even he’s not fast enough to catch Carlos as the boy comes sprinting out, making a mad dive for the fireplace.

“Carlos!” Evie cries from the bed beside him, but Carlos is silent, only the slightest shuffling noises echoing from inside the space.

“Come on, bro,” Jay finds himself saying, pleading, almost. “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk, you know that.”

Something flies out of the fireplace and hits Jay solidly in the legs, stinging and yet strangely freezing all at once. Jay kicks his legs free of the projectile, making to move closer when Mal’s voice calls out from behind him.

“Did he just throw his pants at you?”

Jay looks again and realizes that, oh yeah, those are Carlos’ shorts. Evie makes a scandalized sound beside him as a second, soaking wet projectile is flung from the fireplace, this one aimed at Mal, but falling short by half a foot.

“That’s great, Carlos,” Mal calls to the fireplace in an unamused deadpan. “Now you’re soaking wet and naked.”

“No,” Jay says, shaking his head. “I caught him shoving some clothes in there earlier with the rest of his toolkit; he’s fine.”

“Still wet, though,” Evie murmurs, and Jay feels a strange urge rising in his chest.

“That’s what she…” he begins, but cuts himself off before he can finish, coughing pointedly as Mal storms past him.

“Carlos,” the purple clad girl snaps, crouching down in front of the stone fixture. “We are going to talk about this, so there’s no point in hiding!”

“No point in ta-ta-talking, e-ither,” the boy retorts, and though his voice is slightly muffled from the fireplace, there’s no mistaking the fierce sharpness of his tone.

“At least now he's mad at both of us,” Jay mutters lightly to Mal. “So, way to even the field.”

“Don't fuck with me right now, Jay,” Mal growls, and Jay grimaces, backing away from her.

“You know I didn't do this on purpose, right?” he says.

“Purpose or not, you did still do this,” she replies tersely. “So shut up for a minute.”

“Hey, it wasn't my idea to come here,” Jay can't help but retort, his own anger growing in light of hers. “And I'm not the one pushing for things.”

“You did your fair share of pushing out on that field,” Mal counters harshly. “As I recall, you sent three Princes to the infirmary.”

“Yeah,” Jay agrees hotly. “I was protecting Carlos.”

“Fucking bullshit,” the other girl snaps back, standing to face him head on. “All you were doing was fucking off and playing dominant.”

“Oh and what were you doing then, Mal?” Jay snaps right back. “What are you doing now?”

Mal's eyes light with green, a snarl rising to her lips as she stalks towards him. Jay straightens and prepares to meet her attack, bracing himself for a fight.

“Go on then, Jay,” Mal growls lowly, her own hands in fists at her sides. “You really want to poke the dragon? I dare you.”

“Both of you shut up.”

Evie's voice is cold and stern, jarring them out of their confrontation. “What happened to doing this thing together?” the girl continues sharply.

“Well clearly, Mal's not one for teamwork right now,” Jay counters, frowning back at Evie. “But I never said I wouldn't...”

“You piece of shit!” Mal hisses. “You haven't been working for this team a second since we got here! All you've done is think for yourself!”

“Like hell I have,” Jay snaps right back. “What have you done besides ordering us around, which is all you ever seem to do?”

“Is this about that thing with Fairy Godmother?” Mal demands, crossing her arms. “I made that decision because was obvious that some of us were hurt and...”

“And we couldn't have that, could we?” Jay retorts mockingly. “The fearless leader can't have weak followers, can't have anyone dragging them down.”

“Is that really what you think?” Mal argues, something hard coming up in her eyes that Jay doesn't have time to interpret in his own anger.

“No, it's what you think,” Jay answers. “And that's the only reason you're here, the only reason you're doing this thing with Carlos. You don't really care one way or another, you just want to make sure nothing gets in your way of that wand!”

“Jay!” Evie gasps by the fireplace, both shock and anger in her cry.

“Get out,” Mal growls at him. “Before I do something I know I won't regret.”

“It's my room,” Jay counters smugly. “So technically, I should be kicking you out.”

“Jay,” Evie chimes in again, and her voice is once more hard, and when Jay turns his head he can see that her face is set in her ‘Evil Regal’ expression. “Leave. Please,” she adds carefully, but Jay finds that he doesn't quite have words to respond.

“You…you’re actually…kicking me out?” He finally manages, incredulous.

“You’re only making things worse,” Evie murmurs quietly, and she at least manages to look somewhat apologetic.

No such thing with Mal. The girl’s eyes are hard and full of cold fury. “Unless you can stay and actually help with Carlos,” she shoots at him through gritted teeth. “But I’d really rather you leave.”

“That’s fine,” Jay snaps hastily, throwing up his hands and pretending that there wasn’t a vise squeezing his insides. “Like I said, I know when I’m not wanted.”

He crosses back to the window and lifts the latch, balancing in the frame. He flips Mal off with a mocking salute, then slips out onto the roof, locking the window again behind him before jogging towards the building’s edge. He’s almost grateful to the Auradon residents for confiscating their weapons; he’s certain that if Mal had had her knife in that moment, she’d have thrown it at him. And she would not have missed.

Carlos

Carlos wasn't entirely sure when the screaming stopped, but when he finally uncurled himself from his position in the fireplace, the room beyond was silent, and nothing sounded like it was breaking...Jay must have left then. He frowns, shifting his weight and debating whether he really wanted to go out. He runs the towel through his hair again, feeling the droplets of water slide down his face. He shivers, wishing he'd thought to put a long sleeved shirt inside his hiding space instead of a short sleeved one. He also really wishes he wasn't so mentally worthless and fucked up; as if the stuttering wasn't enough...no, he had to be a freaking spaz, too.

‘Useless,’ he thinks to himself, reaching for his kit. ‘Freaking useless.’

His mother had always thought so, said so, on numerous occasions. He was barely competent enough to do his chores without screwing up, but even then there'd always been something not quite right.

‘Just like me,’ he thinks wryly, twisting a gear.

And now with everything happening in Auradon, first with biology, and then the fight, the last thing they needed was for him to start panicking again. Carlos fiddles with the box in his hands, ignoring the way his fingers tremble. They had something important to do and here he was ruining it all before it started. Why had he been picked? Ben had chosen four, and he could have chosen any four...but why Carlos de Vil? He wasn't good for anything, not even villainy, really.

And Mal...somehow she expected him to play a part in the plan, but what part? How could she expect anything of him? But maybe that was it...maybe Jay was right. She didn't expect anything of him, he was just the cover. The face of 'normal' compared to all of them. He was just there to be there, and he couldn't even get that right! That's what that had been...why she had been there for his latest attack. Trying to see if he was still stable enough for his job of just being there.

‘Hate to break it to you Mal,’ he murmurs inwardly. ‘But I ruin everything I touch. I was ruining things even before I was born.’

But that was going too far. He couldn't think about...no, and it hadn't really been his fault...He hadn't known, he didn't mean...

Carlos blinks hard, drawing a sharp breath that didn't seem to end. He glances back down at his project and tries to fit the second gear into it. The metal snaps and jolts sideways, pinching his fingers sharply. He drops the project and bangs his head against the wall behind him, gritting his teeth against what he can feel is a scream.

“I'm fine,” he whispers to himself. “I-I’m ook. I’m ok. I'm f-f-f...”

Evie, his brain interjects. He wants Evie. He winces, banging his head against the wall again and trying to ignore the buzzing in his ears. He doesn't need Evie. He can take care of himself. It’s only as he wraps the towel further around his body that he realizes he isn’t breathing. He gasps soundlessly, burying his head between his knees and trying to remember how his lungs worked.

‘Useless.’

‘Pathetic.’

‘Freak.’

‘Worthless.’

‘Runt.’

‘Screw up.’

“I’m fine,” Carlos begins to chant once more, his fingers trembling as he clutches the towel. “I’m…”

Not fine, his brain screams at him. Not fine not fine notnotnotnotnot!

Carlos groans against the voices, but his malfunctioning lungs won’t let the sound escape, instead echoing as a heavy vibration in his skull. He can feel his face twisting, can tell from sick fluttering in his stomach that his body wants to run, but he’s trapped…trapped and there’s no…no air, no way out!

There is a way out, he tries to reason. There’s an opening right there right there right there look! But he can’t turn his head, can’t move a muscle against the fear that grips him, far tighter than any grip his mother had ever held on him. The thought of his mother stabs a hot knife through his stomach, and he’s just about to release that scream in his chest when a voice murmurs from somewhere beyond his walls.

Evie

“That went well,” Evie says stiffly, watching out the window as Jay drops off the dorm roof and disappears.

“Fucking asshole,” Mal snarls, and Evie turns back to see her pacing with all the grace and danger of an enraged dragon. “Who the fuck does he think he is with this?”

All that’s missing is the flames, Evie thinks wryly. She shakes her head, pressing her lips together and trying to decide how best to breach this.

“Is he right, though?” Evie finally asks, and she prides herself on her level tone. Mal turns on her, eyes blazing with green.

“What?” the other girl’s voice is a low and hard growl, and Evie rolls her eyes, placing a hand on her hip.

“Honestly Mal, you really are overdramatic sometimes,” she sighs, refusing to be affected by the other girl’s display.

“How…?” Mal begins, but Evie shakes her head sharply, cutting her off.

“This thing with Carlos,” she says sternly. “What is it really? Is Jay right?”

She’s trying to be tactful, she really is, but Mal glowers at her, her lip curling.

“You think I don’t care?”

“I think,” Evie says slowly, then starts over. “I know you, Mal. And I know you're worried, but...”

“Fuck yeah, I'm worried!” Mal snaps, pacing again. “You think I'm not? That I don't care? This was supposed to be simple, a way to make things work for us...for once in our fucked up, miserable lives. This place was supposed to be better!”

Evie pauses at that, caught off guard. Mal draws a breath that shakes a bit, the green fire in her eyes flickering as she frowns at the floor.

“I...I wanted it to be better,” the girl admits quietly, and Evie feels a pang in her chest, a pricking behind her eyes at the sudden vulnerability.

“For Carlos?” Evie manages to whisper out, attempting to return to her original intentions.

“For all of us,” Mal says firmly, her eyes lifting and locking on Evie's.

Evie feels her breath catch, and covers it up with a slight cough. She raises a brow and tries for a teasingly skeptical look. “All of us?”

Mal scoffs, rolling her eyes as some of her remaining anger melts away. “Yes, even Jay, the bastard.”

Evie smiles a little, a hint of relief flowing through her. She starts to move forward but something in Mal's body is still tense, and the other shifts away subconsciously at Evie's approach.

“I didn't want to say it,” Mal says. “Didn't want to hope for it because things like that...” She shakes her head, grimacing. “Forget it,” she says abruptly. “It doesn't matter.”

Evie draws a breath to interject, but Mal flinches suddenly, her head snapping up sharply.

“Shit,” she hisses, her eyes widening. “Fuck!”

“What?” Evie questions, but Mal is shaking her head slowly, turning to glance towards the fireplace.

“Fucking shit,” Mal mutters, and Evie exhales impatiently.

“What, Mal?” She demands, and the other girl finally turns back, her expression still a bit stunned.

“That's what Carlos said,” Mal says slowly. “He was upset about all of this...everything that's been happening, but he was angry at me especially because he thought that...I thought it didn't matter because of the wand.”

Evie draws a sharp breath of realization, and Mal grimaces. “Yeah,” Mal mutters.

“But you don't,” Evie protests. “I mean, you do care…in your own way.”

“And I've said that,” Mal says, her voice raising slightly.

“But I think you need to show it,” Evie presses gently.

Mal scoffs, and she's pacing again, but slower this time. “What, I haven't shown it enough?”

“You know that's not what I meant, M,” Evie replies with a soft sigh.

“And you know I don't do all of that...feely stuff,” Mal retorts. “You know that, E.”

“I know,” Evie agrees quietly. “But they need to know -Jay and Carlos- they need you to show them somehow that you care.”

“I was terrified in that bathroom with Carlos,” Mal snaps. “Not because of his panic attack, but because I didn't know how to handle getting emotional like that, and I didn't want to make it worse with my pathetic attempt at comfort.”

“You're not pathetic at comforting Mal,” Evie tries to defend, but Mal snorts and shoots her a pointed look.

“That right there is exactly what I mean,” Mal says. “Being sympathetic and having feelings is your department. I show that I care by doing what I do best: keeping us all alive.”

Mal

It takes Evie the better part of an hour to finally convince Carlos to leave the fireplace. While the other girl works in the ‘bedroom’ part of the dorm; getting Carlos properly dried and dressed in warmer clothes, Mal busies herself in the bathroom, gathering up Carlos’ previous outfit and mopping up the water that remained on the floor. She tries not to think about her confrontation with Jay, or worry about Carlos, or classes or…anything, instead focusing on the task at hand.

It works until she finally finishes and returns to the other room. Evie is rubbing a towel vigorously through Carlos’ hair, talking animatedly about something to do with genetic inheritance. The boy is entirely silent, but his expression is interested, his eyes slowly regaining a bit of light as he absorbs whatever it is Evie is telling him. Then he spots Mal, and his expression falters, his brow furrowing with worry as he seems to shrink on the bed.

Mal that guilt twist in her gut again, and she grits her jaw against the apology that wants to escape. He was worried because of her, her brain reminds her sternly. She had to do something about it. Evie’s visually reminds her with an encouraging nod, and Mal would have scowled at her if it wouldn’t upset Carlos. She settles instead for a subtle narrowing of her eyes, but she moves towards the bed anyway, holding up her hand and dangling a small chain from her fingers.

“I found this,” she says casually to Carlos. “Thought you might want it back.” She extends the red dog tail, and Carlos straightens and accepts the tail from her, clipping it to the belt of his softer pants. He makes a humming sound that Mal thinks might be ‘thank you,’ but she isn’t entirely sure.

She raises a brow at Evie, who shakes her head, signing quickly; she makes the sign for the letter ‘A’- a fist hand shape, with her thumb against the side of her hand; and with her palm back, she brings her hand up and touches it to her lips.

[Mute.]

Fucking great, Mal thinks, but she tries not to let her frustration show on her face. Worse than when he simply resorted to one word answers, there were rare moments where Carlos just refused to talk at all; whether out of self-preservation, or else in the aftermath of a fit like this, he’d play ‘mute’ until he decided to talk again. Mal sighs, deciding it would be better not to mention it, and sits on the opposite bed, turning her head to stare out the window. The sky was still the dark blue of night, but there was a soft line of lighter blue along the horizon, and Mal started, straightening on the edge of bed.

“Shit, guys,” she says, turning back to Evie and Carlos. “It’s almost 2 and we have class tomorrow!”

She glances at the clock on the table beside her and throws up her hands. “It is 2,” she sighs.

Carlos frowns, straightening slowly and looking around the room. He turns back to Mal and furrows his brows at her, bringing up a hand and signing; he extended a pinkie and with a twist of his wrist, made a ‘J’ in the air- his simplified sign for [Jay], since he insisted he didn’t need a fancy sign name and it was easier to just fingerspell his name.

But Mal understood Carlos’ silent question, and she can’t help the scowl that slips across her face. “He left,” Mal says, none too gently.

Carlos stiffens and then tries to hide it by pretending to roll his shoulders in a stretch. Evie gives Mal a glare of disapproval and clarifies in a much gentler tone than Mal had used.

“He was being a bit of a disruptive influence,” she says. “So we told him to leave and calm down while we got things settled in here.”

Carlos nods his understanding, but brings his hands up to sign again; he raises his left hand with fingers spread and palm facing sideways, he makes and exaggerated forward motion; then he points to Mal and Evie before bringing his left hand up off to the side of his body; he opens his hand with fingers slightly spread in a sort of ‘mouth’ before closing it again; then he brings his left hand up again; palm down with his thumb and pinkie fingers in a ‘Y’ shape, he moves his hand in a short back and forth motion; lifting his brows in question.

[You’ll leave too?]

Evie lifts her head and gives Mal a worried look, like ‘how do you want to answer this,’ but Mal doesn’t hesitate, giving Carlos what she hopes is a reassuring smile.

“Like I said, it’s 2 am; I’m not climbing out along window ledges to get back to our room now.”

Evie smiles knowingly at Mal, and relief melts across Carlos’ face as he relaxes completely. Nodding his head and standing, he drags a pillow and the top blanket off of the bed that would have been Jay’s. He tosses the pillow to the floor between the two beds, and pads over, spreading the blanket down beneath it.

“Don’t you want to sleep in the bed?” Evie asks quickly, realizing his intentions, and Mal is grateful that the other girl had voiced her thoughts. She’d had enough of being concerned and caring for one day.

Carlos shakes his head, making a face and signing; bringing his hands up in front of him; both hands facing each other, he spreads them further out and away from each other in a slightly exaggerated motion.

[Too much.]

“Too much?” Evie repeats, frowning, and even Mal feels her own brow furrowing.

But Carlos doesn’t clarify, just signs again; pointing to himself before touching his thumb to his chest, his hand in a ‘five’ shape; before pointing down at the space where he is.

[I’m fine here.]

“It’s his room,” Mal cuts in, shrugging carefully. “We’re here; we’re safe…if he wants to sleep on the floor, then he can sleep on the floor.”

Evie glares at her, but Carlos smiles gratefully, settling down between the blanket and the floor easily. Evie sighs, but settles back without comment, switching off the bedside lamp before pulling the sheets over herself.

It doesn’t take Mal long to realize that she’s not going to sleep. She shifts her weight a few times against the soft mattress, and even adjusts the pillows so she’s lying on the cooler side, but even that does nothing to help. She huffs a sigh and rolls back over, noticing that Evie is sounds asleep already, curled up on her side with a pillow wrapped firmly in her arms. Mal growls softly in displeasure, envious of the other girl’s ability. She flops onto her back and tried counting her breaths for all of two seconds before she’s fed up.

“Screw this,” she mutters, sitting up and flinging the covers off of her. She slips from the bed and crosses to the section of floor just at the foot of the sickeningly luxurious piece of furniture, and throws herself down on her stomach with little ceremony.

“Joining you,” she grumbles to Carlos, who lies on his back perpendicular to her position and tilts his head to grin upside down at her.

‘Told you,’ he mouths silently, and Mal flips him off with a scowl.

“Go to sleep,” she snaps at him, and he giggles under his breath, but obediently closes his eyes.

The floor is significantly easier to settle on than the bed, but it’s only when she hears Carlos’ soft snoring that Mal allows herself to fully relax. She closes her own eyes and rolls onto her side, the solid feel of the bed against her back reminding her of her corner pallet back at home.

Home. The thought of the Isle brings a strange flurry of emotions that Mal isn’t sure if she wants to examine. They needed to do this job…she needed to do this. It was her chance to make a name for herself, and not just as ‘Maleficent’s daughter.’ To have recognition as her own person, to come into her own evil, and maybe…just maybe…create a better life for her group.

Ben

Ben adjusts his uniform jacket a final time and draws a steadying breath before knocking on the dorm room door. There’s no sound from behind the wood, and Ben frowns, lifting his eyes to double check the number. 13…this was Mal and Evie’s room. He knocks again, a little louder, but still no one answers.

“Huh,” he mutters to himself, before glancing down the hall. It’s empty, most of the other students on this floor already up for breakfast and early classes. He shakes his head, mystified, before walking down to the boy’s room at 17. He tries again, running a hand through his hair before knocking on the door.

This time he gets a response, the clear sounds of shuffling footsteps before a voice calls out, “Who is it?”

The voice is low with suspicion, but Ben is surprised to recognize it as Mal’s. He clears his throat and calls back through the door.

“It’s Ben.”

There’s a soft whisper of voices behind the door, and then the latch clicks dully. “It’s open,” a new voice calls out. This time, it’s Evie’s, and Ben isn’t entirely sure what to expect when he opens the door.

He lifts his brow as he surveys the room, everything still relatively intact, but clothes and random pieces of metal were strewn about the room. Mal stands just to the side of the door, and Evie is straightening the covers on one of the beds when he walks in. He spies Carlos shoving something into the closet, but the boy straightens when Ben clears his throat and greets them.

“Good morning,” Ben says in what he hopes is a cheerful voice and not suspicious or concerned.

“Morning,” Evie murmurs, and the blue haired girl almost meets his eyes as she smiles at him.

Carlos sort of nods, looking at the wall just past him and quickly dropping his eyes again, his hands fiddling with something attached to his belt. Ben turns to Mal and his smile widens a bit when he notices that she’s actually looking him straight in the eyes. It falters, however, when he realizes that her eyes are narrowed, and a bit of a brighter green than he remembered.

“Good morning Ben,” Mal says shortly, and Ben has the sudden feeling like he’s a little kid again; guilty and ashamed as his mother scolds him. “Or would ‘Your Highness,’ be better?”

“Mal!” Evie hisses sharply, worry lighting in her expression. Carlos has frozen completely, his body tense like he wants to run but isn’t sure where to run to.

Ben winces at her tone, sharp with something like sarcasm, but that he recognizes by her expression as bitterness and maybe, even, a sense of betrayal. He sighs as he realizes that maybe he shouldn't have tried to play things so casually after yesterday's events; especially since he's been the one to pass judgement on all of them.

"I knew I shouldn't have..."

"Kept your true identity hidden in an attempt to get close to us?" Mal finishes for him, her voice cold.

"Mal!" Evie hisses again, the fear and shock a little stronger this time.

Carlos flinches, shuffling away from Ben and Mal in a way that makes Ben feel like he's trying to avoid being grouped into whatever the girl is saying.

"Yeah, about that," Ben says slowly, his voice all too awkward and apologetic for his liking. "I wasn't trying to trick you, or anything, I promise. I just didn't want your first impression of me...of this place, to be as 'Prince Ben.'"

"Is that why you keep checking up on us, then?" Mal asks sharply, a hard suspicion creeping over the bitterness in her voice. "You want to make sure we're staying in line; see if we're passing all your tests?"

"No, of course not!" Ben quickly defends. "I just wanted to make sure you were all doing ok."

Evie and Carlos both frown at that; Evie looking thoughtful while Carlos looks confused. Mal however, scoffs at his words, her lips twitching in sardonic amusement.

"Yeah, right," she says with another short laugh. "There's no such thing."

Ben blinks at that, confused and caught off guard. "No such thing as what?"

"'Just making sure you're ok...'" Mal repeats sarcastically, shaking her head.

"You...you really think that?" Ben questions lowly, strangely hurt amidst his confusion. "That I can't check on you unless there's some ulterior motive?"

There's silence from Mal and the others, though the slight narrowing of Mal's eyes is answer enough. Ben can feel his face twisting, and he lowers his had to keep his feelings from showing. What had things been like on the Isle if even his natural generosity was something to be suspicious of? He blinks hard and forces himself to meet Mal's gaze, sincerity in his voice as he answers.

"It's not like that here," he promises.

Mal purses her lips but doesn't say anything more, instead turning her gaze pointedly away from his and striding towards the door. Carlos gives a startled yelp and scrambles after her, while Evie follows slower and gives Ben an apologetic look as she passes him. Ben sighs, and exits the room behind them, closing the door as he goes. Things would be harder than he thought, and he'd already anticipated some complications. But with the strange bruises and injuries, then the fight, and now this...

"Hey, um, where's Jay?" Ben asks, noting the tallest boy's absence.

Carlos ducks his head and cringes, and both Mal and Evie flinch at his question, though none of them make any move to answer him. He thinks he hears Mal muttering an insult of some kind under her breath, but he can't be sure. He shakes his head, and decides to try for the positive route.

"Maybe he beat you guys to breakfast," he offers.

Carlos makes a half-hearted noise of agreement, but that's all he gets out of them. Ben sighs and resigns himself to a rough day as they finally reach the dining hall. Mal jerks to a stop at the head of the line, and both Evie and Carlos tense behind her. Ben quickly slips towards the front of the group and raises a hand in a reassuring gesture.

"It's ok guys," he says quickly. "Breakfast is a little different than the other meal times. We've set it up like a buffet, and it's served from 6:30am to 9:00am for anyone to grab as they need to on the way to class." He chuckles sheepishly and grins at them. "It's a bit of a free for all, sorry."

Mal and Evie exchange a look, and Ben swears he sees Mal's eyes flash green as a slow smile spreads across the girl's face. "It's ok," Mal says lowly, and Ben feels a pang of worry at her amused tone. "Free for all's we can handle."

The villain kids rearrange their position, and with Carlos in front and both girls just behind him on either side, they stride confidently into the chaos of the dining hall.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Ben groans to himself as he follows them.

Carlos

Carlos has to employ every ounce of his skills to keep his ‘callous’ mask in place as he waits in line with Mal and Evie. He’s not so much nervous as thrilled, and they aren’t waiting, really. Stalking would be better. He clears his throat to disguise a laugh and revels in the way the students closest to them flinch, darting anxious glances over their shoulders. Evie stays by his side while Mal moves forward in the line and grabs things off the buffet, piercing anyone who dared get too close with a vicious, green eyed glare.

“Damn, I've missed this,” Mal mutters under her breath to him as he slides down a place in line and snatches a roll from another student's fingers.

“Nothing like making people cower in fear of you to start the day,” Evie agrees with a giggle as she smiles sweetly at a tanned, brunette boy with curly hair. The boy blinks, then quickly runs a hand through his curly locks and grins back, completely unaware as Mal slides up behind him and relieves his tray from the table where he'd set it down.

Carlos snickers as Mal dumps the tray's contents onto his own plate, subtly shifting his body out of view and flashing a challenging grin of his own at the other boy. The boy falters, glancing over at Evie and then back at Carlos, a hesitation in his gaze. Carlos decides to play along and straightens his back, lifting a brow as he nods sharply. Strangely, instead of flinching away, the other boy grins again, nodding at Carlos in a way that’s almost like respect before he turns to grab his tray from the table.

Watching the boy stare in confusion at his now empty tray is enough to distract Carlos from the strange reaction, and he can’t help but laugh a bit as the other boy whirls around again with a mystified expression on his face as he meets Carlos’ gaze. Mal and Evie tense beside him, ready for a negative reaction, but Carlos simply plasters an innocent expression on his face and shrugs his shoulders at the other boy. The boy shakes his own head, but he’s laughing too, and is about to make his way over to them when someone shouts across the dining hall.

“Aziz, let’s go, we’re late!”

The boy turns to see who’s calling him, and Carlos follows his gaze to see another tanned-skinned youth hovering in the doorway. The other boy’s hair is straighter and hangs half in his face, and the boy jerks his head to clear his view, causing a few of the girls nearby to swoon.

“Just a sec, Nikki!” Aziz calls back, and the other boy jerks his hair out of his eyes again before exiting the hall.

Aziz turns back to them, smile still in place. He nods at Evie and Mal, then winks knowingly at Carlos before turning and dashing across the dining hall and out the door.

“Ok then,” Mal drawls slowly, clearly unsure how to handle the encounter.

Carlos chuckles a bit more, shaking his head as he takes a bite out of his roll. Except, his teeth close on empty air, and Carlos frowns as he stares down at his empty hand.

“B-but I…” he blinks, then looks back up to the door Aziz had left out of, the wood just beginning to swing shut.

“Oh, he’s good,” Evie says with a laugh, handing Carlos her spare roll.

“I don’t think even Jay could have pulled that off so flawlessly,” Mal adds, but then she frowns suddenly, her eyes narrowing as she stares at the now closed door.

“What?” Evie asks what Carlos is thinking, but can’t say with everyone else around to hear.

“I thought his name sounded familiar and now I remember why,” Mal mutters, her frown deepening. “He was that guy I overheard with Ben the other night; when we were in the lab.”

“What?” Evie hisses, so sharply that the remaining students hovering nearby decided to flee for their safety.

“He said you were a genius, Carlos,” Mal says to him with a slight smile. “Apparently he was very impressed with your lock picking skills.”

Carlos chuckles smugly, pleased that someone else recognized his gifts. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a little worried. If Aziz was able to pick out a broken lock, would he be able to tell who had done it? He seemed like an ok guy, but if he knew that they had broken into the lab, would they be safe?

“Let’s find a table and worry about it then,” Evie suggests, and Carlos nods hastily. Suddenly, the breakfast buffet didn’t seem as fun, and was now dangerous territory with so many eyes on them.

They turn to their regular table in the corner by the door, but Mal stiffens as they approach, a soft growl slipping past her lips. Carlos braces himself for an attack or an enemy appearance, but it’s only Jay, an empty tray in front of him as he rocks on the back legs of his chair and surveys the crowds.

“You have some nerve,” Mal snarls lowly, and Jay glances up with a sarcastic grin.

“Good morning to you too,” he chirps back, and Mal looks all set to slam her tray of food into his face, but Evie places a hand on her arm, frowning she intercedes.

“Can we not do this right now?” she asks, glaring at both Jay and Mal.

Mal glares murderously at Jay, but says nothing as she sits down at the opposite end of the table. Carlos shares an anxious look with Evie and quickly decides to sit with the other girl, just in case things got violent.

“Where were you?” Mal gets right to the chase, and Evie places her fork back down on her plate.

“So much for leaving things be,” she mutters, and Carlos nervously chews at his biscuits and gravy, eyes darting back and forth between the two older teens.

“I was around,” Jay answers easily, still rocking in his chair as though he weren’t receiving death threats from Mal’s eyes.

“But not where you needed to be,” Mal snaps. “Though I guess I should have known better than to expect more from you.”

Jay’s chair slams to the floor, and Carlos flinches, ducking his head and waiting for the bullets to start flying.

“You want to go there Mal?” Jay rumbles. “Really?”

“Well for someone who’s always questioning my leadership, I would have thought you’d at least have some sense of responsibility.” Mal shrugs a shoulder, her eyes like daggers. “But again, I should have known.”

“Go suck a--”

A shrill ringing cuts off Jay’s retort, and it takes Carlos a moment to realize that the ringing was not in his head. The bell chimes above them and all the students scramble up, a few running for the buffet line to grab a last minute treat to take on the way to class. Carlos leaps to his feet with Evie, never more grateful to go to class. He doesn’t look behind him as he races after the blue haired girl in front of him, and so he doesn’t see the continued, silent exchange between Mal and Jay. He doesn’t notice Jay split off from the group and disappear out the opposite door, or see Mal’s crude hand gesture at his retreating back.

It’s only when they reach Remedial Goodness 101 that he notices anything amiss, as the Fairy Godmother pauses as she spots them enter, and asks in an all too concerned voice:

“Oh my, where’s Jay?”

Chapter Text

Fairy Godmother

The Fairy Godmother is an excellent judge of character. She is always able to tell when something is wrong and someone needs her help (how else would she be able to do her job?), and despite being known for her compassionate and doting nature, she ‘doesn’t take crap from nobody,’ to quote something she’d heard the kids say.

She hadn’t been nearly as hesitant to accept Ben’s decree to bring the villain children over to Auradon; they were children in need, after all, and she happily took it upon herself to play the guiding mother role. That first day in class had tested her patience, true, but it had also tested all of her previously held beliefs of childhoods and how children were supposed to act. They had come to her subdued; quiet and wary, watchful of every move she made. They bickered between each other like siblings, but every one of their mannerisms held a certain fear, an anticipation of some kind of pain, and although Cinderella hadn’t been nearly as bad as these children had, the Fairy Godmother couldn’t help but see the similarities.

And so she studied her charges closely, analyzing their answers to her questions in an attempt to better understand just what they had been through. The bruises were glaring enough, but they painted too broad of a picture for her to see. They could just as well have been inflicted by the other children of the Isle, if they all had some of the violent tendencies that she had noticed with her four.

She liked to think that she had picked up enough on their personalities to notice when something was amiss, and so it is with these thoughts in mind that she falters at the head of the classroom. She takes in the three children before her and instantly feels a flicker of wrong, that is made no less obvious by the fact that there are only three of them there.

“Oh my,” she says softly, worry clouding her cheerful tone. “Where’s Jay?”

Fairy Godmother watches as Carlos shrinks in his chair, and while the gesture is clearly a defensive one, she can see the flicker of sorrow in his face before he hides it. Both Mal and Evie are silent, and while Evie’s silence is worried and tense, Mal’s is one of cold fury and betrayal. Fairy Godmother frowns, her own worry growing as she wonders what had happened to cause this sudden rift between the four, but she forces herself to remain calm and in control of the situation.

“Well, our lesson today will continue where we left off yesterday, and I decided that in light of recent events, it would be best to discuss with all of you some appropriate ways to deal with your anger.”

She notices a flicker of amusement in Mal’s expression, but it quickly turns to boredom as the girl begins writing on a piece of paper. Fairy Godmother recognizes the gesture for the defense that it is, and decides not to press further.

“This topic will also be the basis for our first detention,” the woman directs at Carlos. “Wherever Jay is, I do hope you will pass this information on to him.”

The small boy winces at her words, but nods his head slowly in understanding. Fairy Godmother nods as well before straightening and returning to the task at hand, turning to the blackboard and indicating the question with her staff.

“If someone hands you a crying baby, do you, A) Curse it? B) Lock it in a tower? C) Carve out its heart? Or D) Give it a bottle?”

She turns back to her students, but they’re all silent, a heaviness in the air as they either stare at their desks, or in Mal’s case, the piece of paper that she’s drawing on. Fairy Godmother sighs as she realizes the lesson will not be proceeding as planned, and so she decides to take the opportunity given to her. She picks up an eraser and begins clearing the chalkboard, moving in slow dramatic gestures as she gives her students time to collect themselves in whatever way they choose. When she turns around again, they’re all staring at her, disbelief on Evie’s face, and varying degrees of suspicion and worry on Mal and Carlos.’

“I can see that something is bothering you, children,” Fairy Godmother explains gently. “This class isn’t just for teaching you; I like to think that it’s also a safe space for us to learn about each other.”

Mal rolls her eyes and focuses back on her drawing, but there’s an uncomfortable look on her face that doesn’t escape the older fairy’s gaze. Evie and Carlos exchange a pointed look, but no one make any move to explain things to her.

“I won’t force anything out of you, but I hope you know that I am here to help in any way you might need,” Fairy Godmother says carefully. “Now, there’s still about 45 minutes left of this class period, and while I won’t dismiss you entirely from the lesson, you may use the time as a study period if you prefer.”

She knows that at this point, trying to continue a lesson would be futile as no one’s attention would really be on her, and so she decides to let them have a moment of peace. Maybe in the quiet atmosphere, they would let their guard down and allow themselves to hear what she had said. She retreats to her desk atop the podium’s stage and lets the silence continue, drawing a stack of papers from her drawer and beginning to grade. She watches out of the corner of her eye as a tense moment of silence passes, but finally, Carlos draws a textbook from his bag, and Evie slides over to sit at the table with him, the girl silently conversing over the subject as the smaller boy takes notes. Mal continues to draw, but every now and then the girl lifts her head to glare around at the room, relaxing only when she sees that Evie and Carlos are still there with her.

The Fairy Godmother sighs quietly as she watches the children. It would take a lot more than a simply bippidi-boppidy-boo to make things right with them, but she’d be darned if she didn’t try her hardest for them. It didn’t matter to her that their success meant the success of the kingdom as a whole. They were hurting children in need of a Fairy Godmother, and she would do everything in her power to give them the happy endings they deserved.

Ben

Ben sighs as he glances down at his buzzing phone for what felt like the hundredth time that day, the device creating a surprising amount of noise as it rattles against his table. He turns his attention to the mirror in front of him, frowning as he adjusts his tie.

“You really should answer them, you know.”

Audrey’s voice is stern from where she sits on the bed behind him, an array of books and color coordinated schedules littered about her.

“I know,” Ben agrees with a grimace. “I just wanted to try and pretend like things were normal before I loaded them down with everything going wrong.”

“For the future king, you’re not very organized, Benny boo,” she scolds mildly.

“You know I hate that nickname,” he complains, and she laughs, her reflection shaking her head at him through the mirror.

“I know,” she teases. “That’s why I use it.”

He makes a face at her through the mirror, but his expression twists even further as his phone starts buzzing again. He groans, and Audrey purses her lips as she highlights something in her notebook.

“You might as well get it over with,” she cajoles, and he groans again, a little louder. He really didn’t want to face his parents right now, not with everything going so wrong, but Audrey was right; putting it off would just make it worse.

He turns and holds out a hand, running his other hand through his hair as he sighs. “Hand me the phone,” he grumbles.

He catches his still buzzing phone that she tosses to him, and ignoring her satisfied smirk, he turns his back and answers the phone.

“Hello?”

“You haven't been answering your messages, Benjamin.”

It’s his mother’s voice that responds, her voice cool and stern. He grimaces at her use of his full name, but manages to keep his own voice steady as he answers.

“I’m sorry about that, really. Things have just been crazy here and….”

“Oh, we’ve heard.”

The voice that cuts him off is a low and deep rumble, and Ben falters, drawing in a quick breath.

“You have?” he manages shakily.

“We have,” his father repeats, and Ben hears his mother sigh quietly in the background.

“You’re on speaker, Ben,” she says sharply, and she can almost imagine her rolling her eyes at his dad as she takes over again. “And yes, the Charming’s were over yesterday afternoon with a very interesting letter from the Fairy Godmother.”

Crap, Ben thinks. He’d forgotten Fairy Godmother was going to letter Cinderella! His hopes of keeping things quiet had never even had a chance.

“Oh,” he squeaks, and he sees Audrey lift a brow at him in the mirror.

“Is it true, Benjamin?” His father growls. “Did those villains of yours attack Chad?!”

Ben hears his mother gasp out his father’s name in the background, but he’s too busy trying to reign in his spinning thoughts to concentrate. He manages to get himself together enough to try for a response.

“They’re not my…” he begins, then stops, starting again with a bit more firmness. “They’re not villains, Dad.”

He hears his father starts spluttering protests, but he continues before he loses his resolve.

“There was a fight, and Emil wound up with a dislocated shoulder, but it really wasn’t….”

“A knife Benjamin!” His father’s shout is loud enough that Ben cringes, jerking the phone away from his ear. “They snuck a knife into my kingdom and attacked innocent Auradon students with it! If that’s not something a villain would do, then….”

“Dad!” Ben starts, just as his mother cries “Adam!” in the background. “That’s not how it happened at all!”

“Do explain, then,” his father says with forced calm, and Ben knows his mother must be glaring at him to keep him subdued.

Ben draws a slow breath, and waits until he’s sure he won’t falter or be interrupted to speak. “Things with the children of the Isle are a lot more complicated than we thought.”

“We?”

“Adam,” his mother says sharply, and there’s quiet again.

“Than I thought,” Ben amends. “There’s…something, I don’t know what, but they’re not villainous.”

There’s a cough on the other end of the phone that Ben recognizes as his Dad’s ‘I want to say something here,’ cough, but he’s not interrupted.

“They’re all really quiet; like, not normal quiet, and they’ve only just started to meet my eyes when I talk with them. And then there’s Carlos….”

Behind him, Audrey has stopped pretending to organize her schedule and is sitting up, her own eyes worried as she watches his face through the mirror.

“Cruella’s son?” His mother questions softly, her previous sternness forgotten.

“What about him?” His father asks, and though his tone is still gruff, it’s slightly less harsh than before.

“What happened with the fight,” Ben explains slowly. “Is because Carlos has a stutter, which we didn’t know about.”

“A villain with a stutter? That’s preposterous!”

His mother clears her throat, and his father pauses his incredulous tirade. “We would have heard about something like that, Ben,” his mother says.

“I would have thought,” Ben agrees. “But remember the folders? They didn’t give a lot of information to begin with, and all they said about Carlos was that he didn’t talk. I thought that meant he was mute, but now I know that wasn’t it.”

“No, I suppose not,” his mother agrees quietly.

“But what does this have to do with the fight?” his father interrupts, and Ben nods even though it can’t be seen through the phone.

“Chad and some of the other guys found out that Carlos has a stutter when he talked in class. They were teasing him about it, but something was said that turned it physical, and by the time I got there, Emil had a dislocated shoulder and Carlos had a knife.”

He knows it must sound as bad as he thinks it does, because neither of his parents say anything for a while. Ben tries pacing, but then he decides to sit, and settles anxiously on the edge of the bed where Audrey is.

“It wasn’t Carlos’ fault,” Ben says firmly, cutting through the awkward silence. “Or Jay’s, either.”

“Jay?” his mother questions softly.

“Jafar’s son,” Ben clarifies. “He was also…involved.”

His father hums lowly, and when he speaks, his voice is a deliberate drawl. “I think this whole situation shows that perhaps things are not as in your control as you have us believe. I think these…children… are dangerous, and the knife is just further proof of that.”

“While I agree that things are definitely not perfect, I think the knife is further proof of just how wrong things are,” Ben counters.

“In what way?” his father retorts.

“If the first reaction to a threat, even a relatively mild one, is to pull out a knife and attack without question, then I’d say something wasn’t right,” Ben says.

“Of course it’s not right, they’re villains, Ben!”

“No they’re not!” Ben snaps, abandoning his diplomatic approach completely. “They’re kids, just like the rest of us here, and they deserve this chance!”

“Ben,” his mother breaks in, scolding but gentle. “No one is denying that. We just think you need to go about this in the right way.”

“I’m trying,” Ben sighs, trying not to sound like he was whining. “But there’s just so much we don’t know.”

“Well the stuttering was certainly an unexpected development,” his father chimes in slowly. “I must say I am surprised we didn’t know of that sooner.”

“Not just the stuttering,” Ben says. “The file didn’t even know all of their ages. Fairy Godmother thinks Carlos is 14 like Jane, but she says that they’re all so undernourished, it’s hard to tell much of anything. And there’s just…I can’t help but think….”

“What is it?” his mother presses, and he could hear her concern. “What else is bothering you?”

“Do you guys think...I mean…Villains love their kids too, right?”

His parents’ responses are subdued, and not nearly as certain as he had hoped. There’s a jerky “Of course,” from his father, and a murmured “I’m sure they do, in their own ways,” from his mother.

“But if we don’t even care enough,” Ben begins, before cutting himself off. It sounded too much like an accusation, and he also can’t help but feel like he was responsible for that, as well. His ignorance was their suffering.

“What do you mean, we don’t care?” His father asks roughly.

“Of course we do, Ben,” his mother adds firmly.

“I meant about them,” Ben says softly. “Is it true the Isle only gets our garbage?”

Jay

Jay storms across the campus, muttering curses under his breath as he glares at everyone who steps into his path, just daring them to cross him. They all skitter out of his way, some even whimpering in fear, but even that does nothing to clear his foul mood.

“Stupid Mal,” he grumbles traitorously, storming across the gardens. “Fucking bitch.”

He’d been kicked out of a lot of places before, even his own house by his own father, but to be thrown out of his dorm room, by Mal of all people; to be accused of not caring…he’d be damned if he let something like that slide. He might be many things, but Jayden Jafar’son was not heartless, despite what everyone believed. He had been around almost three whole years before Mal had even existed, and he’d been the one to help Evie take care of Carlos back when they’d first met.

Jay had been the one to discover Carlos’ stutter, and he and Evie had worked together to learn and teach the youngest of their group how to sign. Jay had stolen the books and Evie had done the teaching. Jay had been the first one Carlos had run to when Cruella started slipping even further; the one who taught the smaller boy how to make and wield his own knives; the one who had convinced Mal to bring Carlos into the core group in the first place.

How dare she say that he didn’t care! He sure as fuck cared more than Mal did, the scheming bitch. She only ‘cared’ when it was convenient for her, when she wanted something from you. Mal was just as manipulative as Maleficent, only focused on accomplishing her goals; and now with the plan to get the wand in place, that was all she really cared about. Not the group, and their chances to do something for themselves for a change. Not Carlos. Not…

“Smoke?”

What!?

Jay whirls on his heel, fists up and ready for a fight, but when he looks around he realizes that he’s back by the dorms, in the section of garden that crosses just behind the building. And there’s a kid about his age, leaning against the side of the building with a cigarette, watching Jay out of dark eyes that were almost like his own.

“The fuck?” Jay snaps, and the other boy laughs, tossing his head as he does so.

“I said, ‘do you want a smoke?’” The boy says, an amused smirk playing about his lips. “You look like you could use one.”

“They let you smoke in Auradon?” Jay challenges, crossing his arms in defiance despite the fact that he actually could use a smoke.

“Nope,” the boy says with a grin, and there’s a certain glint in his eyes that reminds Jay of the Isle, somehow.

“Well look at that,” Jay drawls, striding over and moving to stand against the wall a few feet down from the other boy.

He catches the box of cigarettes and the lighter that is tossed to him, and plucks the remaining four cigarettes from the cardboard container, shoving three into his pocket and lighting the last, all while watching the other warily out of the corner of his eye. The kid just chuckles again, and shakes his head as he catches his lighter once Jay tosses it back to him.

“Fair enough,” the kid says, shrugging a shoulder and taking a slow pull from his cigarette. “Name’s Aziz, by the way.”

Jay blinks at the name, but doesn’t let his surprise show beyond that. He leans his weight against the wall and sizes the other boy up in a new light. He can see it now that he’s really looking; the slightly olive cast to the tanned skin, the dark curls, but especially in his eyes, and the oh-so-subtle lilt in his words. The accent was strong by any means, but it was distinct as anything if you knew what to listen for. And Jay did know.

“Min ay balad 'ant?” Jay asks, and though he tries not to sound suspicious, he’s certain it’s there in his tone anyway.

[Where are you from?]

Aziz straightens, a look of pleasant surprise on his face as he answers. “Laqad wulidat huna, fi Auradon. Walakun waliday kan alfiran fi alshshawarie almaerufat fi Agrabah.”

Jay regrets his little test instantly, because he hadn’t even understood half of what the boy had said. His Arabic must be worse than he thought, because all he could really pick out was something about being born in Auradon, something about a father, and…Jay was certain he had misheard…mice on the streets.

“A little rusty, are you?” Aziz says with a laugh, a familiar glint in his dark eyes. “That’s ok, I don’t know much either; just enough to make it through dinners with the family.”

Jay scoffs, flicking ash from the end of his cigarette. “A family of mice, apparently.”

“Makes things a little awkward with the family pet, but who said being a street rat was easy?”

Jay stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath that sent a pang through his chest as the smoke from the cigarette went with it. Something hazy comes across his vision and before he’s even aware of it, he’s slammed Aziz against the dorm building’s wall; pinning the boy with the weight of his own body and digging his arm into the other boy’s throat. Jay’s other hand reaches for his belt, but it closes around empty air with his knife would have been.

“Something I said?” Aziz asks innocently, but there’s a calculating look in those dark eyes that Jay knows all too well, and he bares his teeth in a fierce grimace at the other boy.

“Street. Rat?” Jay repeats icily, and clarification flickers across Aziz’s face.

“Ha, I didn’t mean it personally, man,” he says smoothly, and that easy smile is back on his face, despite the vulnerable position Jay held him in. “It’s a bit of a running joke in my family, see?”

“I’ll bet,” Jay growls, not the least bit amused, but he backs off enough to let Aziz breathe normally again. The other boy doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even retaliate with an attack of his own. He simply straightens his jacket and extends a hand, grinning as he meets Jay’s eyes.

“Mind if I steal back one of my cigarettes?” he asks. “I kind of dropped mine when you accidentally slammed me into the wall there.”

Jay narrows his eyes at the crazy kid in front of him, shaking his head slowly as he offers the requested item. “You’re the strangest son of a bitch I’ve ever met,” he mutters. “And that’s really saying a lot.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Aziz replies, lighting the fresh cigarette and sticking it in the corner of his mouth. “But I’m pretty sure my mom would kick your ass.”

“Please,” Jay snorts, a vulgar sort of smirk playing about his lips. “I’d f…” But then he catches himself, realizing that maybe his joke wouldn’t be well received from what was technically his enemy.

Instead of looking offended, however, Aziz just looks amused at Jay's blunder, rolling his eyes and taking a quick drag from his cigarette. “I’d love to see you try,” he says with a soft chuckle.

Jay watches as Aziz settles back against the dorm wall and starts smoking again, not even a bit worried over Jay’s presence despite the fact that he’d slammed the other boy into the wall a second ago. Jay bares his teeth into a grimace and growls, his hands clenching at his sides.

“Ok, no,” Jay snaps through his teeth. “This isn’t how this is supposed to work! This doesn’t work!”

“And, what is ‘this?’” Aziz questions calmly, peering at Jay out of the corner of his eyes.

“This!” Jay cries, motioning between himself and the other boy. “We’re supposed to hate each other…I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Aziz says, shaking his head.

“I do,” Jay insists, but even he doesn’t sound as sure of himself as he should be.

“Ok, well, hate me then,” Aziz responds with a shrug. “But I don’t hate you.”

“You should,” Jay finds himself saying, his voice dropping into what Evie would call his ‘dark and brooding’ tone. “You should hate me.”

“Why? Because your Dad’s Jafar?”

In spite of himself, the mention of his father’s name makes Jay tense, and something hard coils in his gut. “What do you know of it?” he snaps sharply, crossing his arms defensively.

“Just the stories,” Aziz answers with another shrug, but his voice is low and cautious like Jay’s. “But you’ve got the life experience, so really, I know nothing.”

“There’s nothing to know,” Jay retorts bitterly. “Nothing glamorous about living on the streets.”

“You guys didn’t get a house on the Isle or anything?” Aziz asks, and a part of Jay registers the deliberate casualty, but he’s too lost in thought to really care.

“Please,” he snorts. “This is Jafar we’re talking about; of course he had a house.”

“True,” Aziz chuckles a bit, but it’s not quite as cheerful as his usual laugh. “But not you?”

“I’d get to live in the house as long as I could keep his shelves stocked,” Jay explains. “If I didn’t get a good enough score, or if he didn’t want to see me, I was out with the rest of the group. Which is fine by me,” Jay adds with a scoff. “I do it better out there anyway.”

“Yeah, but…it was your house too,” Aziz responds slowly. “I mean, you had every right to be there.”

Jay snorts, rolling his eyes at the other boy. “Maybe that’s how things work here in Auradon,” he retorts.

“No,” Aziz murmurs quietly. “That’s how things work everywhere.”

“Huh,” Jay laughs shortly. “Back home, you have to earn your keep. If you don’t work, you don’t survive.”

“Harsh,” Aziz comments, but Jay shrugs, and it’s his turn to offer the easy smile.

“That’s just the way of the streets,” he says.

“The way of the streets,” Aziz repeats, bringing his hand up slowly and taking another pull from his cigarette.

His actions are casual, but Jay can sense the slowness there; the hesitation. He doesn’t like the weird look Aziz is giving him, that look he’d seen Fairy Godmother giving them that first day in class. It was that strange look kind of like ‘caring,’ but there was an edge to Aziz’s look that turned it angry. But what had he said? What did Aziz care about Jay’s life? Care enough to be angry about it?

Jay frowns, not liking the way this conversation had turned, and especially not liking the way it made him feel. Who was Aziz, anyway, to suggest that something about Jay’s life was wrong? Why didn’t Aziz just focus on his own life instead of poking at Jay’s?

“Well,” Aziz says suddenly, his much brighter tone jerking Jay out of his dark thoughts. “One street rat to another, how are you liking Auradon so far?”

“Ok first, your dad’s the rat; you’re more like, I don’t know…a mouse at best,” Jay counters with a smirk. “And second, it’s been one day.”

“A lot can happen in a day,” Aziz replies easily. “After all, you did get into it with Chad, so…I guess that should indicate your general feeling for the place.”

“Just my feeling for him,” Jay retorts with a grin. “This place isn’t too bad, though. Which kind of sucks, because Mal….”

He falters, trailing off as he realizes that he’d almost revealed their entire reason for coming here.

Fuck it all, if Jafar had taught him anything about evil, it was the most crucial rule of villainy; never start monologuing and reveal your entire plan to the enemy! It was the one thing he’d emphasized above all else, and here Jay was spilling his guts. All because his enemy’s son had acted like he cared.

Might just be a rat after all, Jay thinks, as Aziz lifts a brow at him in confusion and asks:

“What about Mal?”

“Nothing,” Jay says, and he prides himself on his ability to keep his features neutral, and his tone merely disgruntled instead of sharp or panicked. “We couldn’t agree on something, that’s all.”

He makes sure to keep it casual, because despite however angry he was with Mal, he knew better than to give away something that could be turned against them. If the enemy found out they were divided, well…he wasn’t about to let something like that happen.

“I didn’t want to mention it,” Aziz comments. “But you looked pretty pissed stalking across the lawns like that. I was just picturing the cape whipping behind you.”

He laughs, and Jay scowls, which only makes Aziz laugh harder.

“Is that why you called me over?” Jay snaps, clenching his fists. “You just wanted to try and get stuff out of me, poke fun because my Dad’s Jafar?”

“No, I didn’t…”

“Forget it,” Jay snarls, shaking his head in disgust. “Should have known better than to trust a street rat.”

He turns away, disregarding the voice that pointed out the similarities between this fight, and Mal’s; that said that Jay was really no better; that if Aziz was a street rat, then what did that make him?

“Jay!”

The use of his name catches Jay off guard, but he refuses to show it. He continues in his stride, his lip curling in disgust as he realizes that the cigarette he’d been given was still wedged between two fingers. He grits his jaw, clenching his hand into a fist as he bites out:

“Thanks for the smoke, Aziz. We should really do it again sometime.”

His palm burns as the cigarette is crushed in his grip, but he opens his hand and lets it fall without flinching. If he’d learned anything from the Isle, it was how to ignore pain.

Carlos

The hallways of Auradon were swarming with students desperate to get to class, and Carlos despises his locker’s position on the inside of the hall; envious that Mal and Evie got lockers on the outside balcony. It’s by the grace of his reputation alone (well, that and his ‘callous’ mask) that everyone avoids getting in his path as he hovers anxiously by the wall. He fidgets with his dog tail as he scans the crowds, his hands the only part of him that he allows to move, and even those motions are subdued. Too much movement made him more of a target; standing still, he was glanced right over as everyone rushed along their own paths.

“There you are,” a breathless voice murmurs from his left. He blinks his acknowledgement, but he’s not caught off guard by Evie’s sudden presence.

Life on the Isle meant always adapting, and Carlos had learned awareness of his surroundings very quickly. Even in a chaotic situation like this, and despite his nervousness, it would be very hard (and ill-advised) to sneak up on him.

“So what do you have next, Biology?” Evie asks, leaning against the wall beside him and surveying the crowd. “I wonder if Mr. Kropp likes honey in his tea, or if he drinks it black?”

It’s a casual question, and a casual gesture to any outside viewer, but Carlos recognizes the tactic for what it was. Evie knew what classes he had, but her mentioning it was just her way of asking Carlos if he was ok with it, and reminding him of what parts he should play. ‘Honey’ to play things straight and sweet, trying to keep his head down; but with ‘drinking it black,’ Evie was giving him permission to bite back if he had to. Carlos nods, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sizes up the space beside Evie.

He signs; bringing his left hand up in a fist shape with his first three fingers folded over his thumb: the sign for the letter ‘M’; he touches the back of his hand to his chin before bringing it forward again, opening his hand and wiggling his fingers slightly as he does so.

[Mal]

It was his ‘fun’ version of signing her name; a combination of the sign for the letter ‘M,’ and the sign for ‘dragon.’

“I don’t know where she went,” Evie says, picking up on his question. “She disappeared right after Goodness; just said that she had to do something real quick, but she’d be back.”

Carlos feels a pang of anxiety and guilt at that; just another example of his ability to screw things up. Now even Mal was leaving because of him. Carlos scowls to cover his feelings, his jaw clenching and hardening his mask.

“Stop that,” Evie hisses, poking him between the ribs and causing his mask to falter despite himself. “No one is ditching you; Mal is coming back. Jay’s just being an asshole about it, it’s not your fault he’s not here.”

Carlos makes a face at her and sticks out his tongue, but inside he’s embarrassed, hating the way she could read him so well. Evie just smiles, flipping him off and laughing when he growls at her.

“Come on,” she says, poking him again as the second bell rings. “I’ll walk you to class. Even though, as the gentleman, you should be walking me.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, but suddenly he’s nervous again. Evie loops her arm through his and they start off down the hall, ignoring and being ignored by the remaining Auradon students still in the hallways. He wishes it were Jay with him instead, but then he remembers that he’s still mad about the older boy abandoning him, and so he tolerates Evie’s presence until they reach the classroom.

“You’ll be fine,” Evie promises, sensing his discomfort. “Just remember my notes and you won’t have any trouble.”

Carlos purses his lips and nods again, still hesitating as the final bell rings above them. Evie gives his hand a quick squeeze before leaning in and whispering in his ear.

“Make sure to take some notes as well,” she murmurs. “Just in case.”

He grins at the dark mischief in her voice, easily reading between the lines and understanding the hidden reference to their plot. Evie winks at him, then turns and jogs off to her Chemistry classroom down the hall. He spots Mal at the end of the hall waiting for her, and when he catches her eye, she offers him an encouraging nod before they both disappear into the room. Carlos draws a steadying breath and turns to face his own classroom, bracing himself for what was to come.

‘You’ll be fine,’ Evie had told him, and he can’t help but remember the first time she’d made that promise to him. He feels like a little kid again, being led into the dragon’s den only to be abandoned and left to face the beast alone.

Carlos

“Are you afraid of me, Carlos?”

Don’t move don’t move don’t breathe not a sound.

“Good,” she said. “You should be.”

“Ah, our resident deVil has arrived. I trust you know where to find your seat?”

Carlos doesn’t miss the way the teacher had pronounced his name; turning the two words into one, but he forces himself to keep a straight face, nodding his head as respectfully as he can as he answers.

“Yes Ssir.”

There’d only been the tiniest slip on that one, and Carlos almost feels proud of himself until he makes his way to his seat and realizes that he’s the only one at the desk. Then all of his fears come rushing back and it takes every ounce of control to keep his mask in place, to keep his movements smooth and casual as he pulls out his textbook and notes.

“I don’t suppose you know where the son of Jafar is hiding himself away, do you?”

“N-no Ssir,” Carlos answers lowly, keeping his eyes on his desk. His name is Jay.

“Really?”

Breathe don’t breathe don’t think don’t move not a sound don’t make a sound.

The girl surveyed him coolly, taking in his ripped jeans, the white leather of his jacket, too big for his small frame, which split to black halfway across. The scrapes on his hands and face from crashing into the market stall.

“Where did you say you found him, Evie?”

“Continuing where we left off yesterday, who can explain the two laws of inheritance?”

Carlos blinks, scanning the pages before him. Evie’s writing is neat and precise, summarizing everything perfectly while adding her own (admittedly biased) contributions in the margins. Hands go up around the classroom, and Carlos surveys them out of the corner of his eyes, turning a page in his notebook and adding to Evie’s comments with one of his own.

“Mr. de Vil.”

Deep breaths deep breaths in out in out don’t move.

The other girl started, but strode forward at the mention of her name. “Just off the market square; Leroux and his goons had cornered him. That was kind of…my fault.”

“Why did you bring him here?”

“Why are you here, Mr. de Vil?”

“Ssir?” Carlos curses his trembling voice, but keeps his mask in place as he straightens at his desk, aware of the entire class turning to stare at him.

“In my class,” Mr. Kropp clarifies coldly, his eyes narrowing at Carlos’ slip. “Clearly, the subject is something you have already mastered, as it appears I’m simply boring you with review.”

“N-n-n-no!” Carlos bursts out, wincing slightly as the ‘N’ sticks on his tongue. He clears his throat a bit and tries again, keeping his voice level despite his anger. “Tha-that’s not it, Ssir.”

“Isn’t it?” Mr. Kropp questions, lifting a brow even as his lips frown. “Then perhaps you could come to the board and complete this diagram?”

He indicates the whiteboard in question, and Carlos sees a blank Punnett Square diagram written on the board; a miniature essay of words written next to it detailing each aspect, with blank spaces to fill in as well. Carlos turns his gaze back to the teacher and feels a sick clenching in his stomach at the hard look on the man’s face; equal parts disgust and smug satisfaction.

She’s not moving. She’s not hurting you…Could be a trap. Not a trap not a trick can’t be a trick.  

“Leroux,” the purple girl said with a growl, disgust twisting her features. “Wait, Carlos? As in, Cruella’s son?”

The boy nodded slowly, unsure what she was getting at. She laughed a little, and her threatening demeanor vanished rapidly with her amusement.

“You're the runt!”

“Explain as you go,” Mr. Kropp continues, extending a marker. “Unless that’s too difficult for you, with your…stutter.”

Not a runt not a runt not a runt! Show her show her show her!

“I’m not a rrrunt,” he snapped, straightening and shooting her the most severe glare he could muster. She stopped laughing, her gaze solemn and thoughtful as she peered at him through a curtain of purple.

“So, the puppy's bark isn't worse,” she drawled. “You know, you should do that more often.”

“Do wha-what?” He growled suspiciously.

“Bite.”

“Do your best,” the man says, as Carlos accepts the marker from him. Carlos recognizes the dig for what it is, but he feels his lips twitching as he approaches the board and begins the diagram, Evie’s voice in his head as though she were explaining it to him all over again.

“Well, Ssir,” Carlos says, labeling the boxes carefully as he goes. “If y-your theory is cor-cor-correct, then it would depend on wh-wh…depends if Evil and G-good are dommminant, or rece-recessive genes.”

He indicates the first diagram, silently reveling in the way Mr. Kropp begins to work his jaw, his eyes flickering beneath his glasses.

“If Evil is recessive, then b-both parents would have to be ‘ee’ to have an E-evil child. But if one p-p-parent is Ge; say, Good, but a carr-rier of Evil, there’s a one in t-t-two chance their child wwill be ‘Evil recessive,’ and also a one in t-two chance their child will be G-g-good, but with an Evil carrier.”

Carlos can see that some of the students in the class have started taking notes, copying down his chart and the points as he speaks. Even Chad is glaring at the board with grudging concentration, and it gives him an added push of confidence despite the teacher’s beginning protests. Carlos takes a breath and smiles just a bit, relaxing as he turns to the board and begins a new diagram.

“Now say that Evil is dominant, and b-both parents are ‘EE;’ ‘Evil dominant,’ then yeah, the kids w-will be ‘EE’ but if one parent is ‘Eg,’ ‘Evil dominant,’ but a carrier for the Good gene, then there's a one-in-two chance their kid will also carry the Good gene.”

Carlos pauses to add that into the paragraph on the side before continuing. “And if both parents are ‘Eg,’ then there's only a one-in-four chance the child will be entirely evil, a one-in-four chance the child will be entirely good, and a one-in-two chance the child will also be an Evil carrier of the Good gene.”

“What happens if one parent is Evil dominant and the other is Good recessive?”

Carlos starts at the question, blinking at the raised hand from the classroom. It’s from the pretty Chinese girl who’d explained to Ben what had really happened with the fight…Lonnie, he recalled vaguely. Carlos glances around to notice that he has the entire classroom’s attention, everyone eager to see where he was going with this, and he smiles, nodding at the girl like he was the teacher.

“E-e-excellent question, L-lonnie,” Carlos replies with another nod. “If there’s one ‘EE’ p-p-parent and one ‘gg’ p-parent, their child will be ‘Eg’.”

“And that’s all around?” Someone else asks, a girl with auburn hair styled in a pixie cut.

“Y-yes,” Carlos confirms, indicating his diagram. “All arrround.”

“Ok, but what if both parents are dominant?” The challenge comes from Chad, a slight smirk on the boy’s face as he raises his hand. “What if one is Evil dominant, and the other is Good? What then?”

There’s a murmur of agreement from the class, but Carlos doesn’t let it faze him, instead offering a small smile to Chad in return.

“It’s a bit mmore diff-diff…it’s tricky when both are dominant,” Carlos explains, drawing out another new diagram. “But let’s just say…if one parent is ‘EE,’ the other would be either ‘Good dominant: GG,’ or could even be ‘EG.’”

“Evil and Good dominant carriers?” Chad counters. “How is that thing?”

“L-l-let’s call it… ‘Mmmorally Am-Ambig-guous,” Carlos replies with a shrug, earning a laugh from the rest of the class and an embarrassed blush from Chad.

“So that would mean either an all-around ambiguous child with ‘EE’ and ‘GG,’” Lonnie concludes slowly. “Or else a one in two chance for ambiguity with ‘EE’ and ‘EG.’”

“R-right,” Carlos confirms happily, grinning as he takes in the class around him, every single one scribbling notes and nodding along.

“So what does that mean for you?” Chad tries again, but there’s more confusion in his tone than hostility. “I mean, the chart is great and all, but what about your chances of being Good or Evil?”

“Hon-honestly?” Carlos says, frowning. “I d-don’t know. I d-d-don’t know what mmy family tr-tree is like to be able to judge.”

“But regardless,” the auburn haired girl chimes in again with a smile. “I’d say this shows that there’s really potential all around for Good or Evil in whichever scenario. It really does come down to the individual.”

A shrill ringing cuts off any further response, and Carlos grins broadly, straightening at the head of the classroom.

“And tha-tha-that’s the b-bell!” he calls over the ringing. “I h-hope you all took n-notes!”

He turns to Mr. Kropp, who’s almost as red as Carlos’ dog tail, and places the marker back down on the teacher’s desk. He straightens with a sly grin, and darts back to his own desk, collecting his things quickly and laughing as he notices Lonnie is taking a picture of the whiteboard with her phone.

Your move, Sir, he thinks, flashing Kropp a challenging grin before sprinting out of the classroom and disappearing into the crowd.

Chapter Text

Mal

Mal can count on one hand the number of times she’d apologized to someone. It had been four times, and only one of those times had she been sincere. The thought of doing something like that again -of being so open and vulnerable- makes Mal’s skin itch. She draws a deep breath and lets it out in a slow hiss, counting each beat in an attempt to remain calm.

It isn’t just the apologizing that irritates her; it’s that she was apologizing to Jay. Jay, the self-satisfied, smug bastard that he was (and, Mal reasons with a vindictive glee, it isn’t insulting if it’s the truth); who constantly argued and questioned her leadership. Jay, who had one job, and hadn’t even managed that much; who had left, just to throw a tantrum and emphasize his point.

Well, Mal was done with his shit. It was time for her to emphasize her point. She grins in anticipation, shifting her weight enough that she could observe the hallway beyond from the alcove she was tucked in. There’s not as many students in the hall now, most of them already in their classes, like the good little boys and girls that they were. Mal rolls her eyes at the thought. She couldn’t wait to show them, either.

A familiar silhouette makes its way down the hall towards her, and Mal debates on revealing herself, or remaining hidden. She still isn’t sure how to feel about him, but as Ben nears her hiding spot, she can see the tight look on his face; the frown that he’s clearly trying to hide judging by the quick smiles he flashes at the few students who notice his presence and greet him. Mal decides to play it safe and ducks further into her alcove, holding her breath as he passes her just to be sure she remains unnoticed.

Ben doesn’t even look up, just keeps walking, his frown deepening once eyes are no longer on him. Mal waits until she can no longer hear his footsteps to relax, releasing her pent up breath and shifting her weight to loosen her body. She knows she needs to focus on her own goal, but at the same time, she can’t help but wonder what had the Crown Prince of Auradon so upset.

“Probably just found out he won’t be getting that third castle he wanted,” Mal mutters to herself, amused at the thought.

Her amusement is cut short as she hears another set of footsteps begin to approach; a short, deliberate shuffle to the movement that she recognizes as anger. She also recognizes the footsteps, and the anger is made even more apparent by the whispered cursing she can hear as they get closer. Mal tenses in anticipation and draws a steadying breath as Jay draws closer, but he, too, doesn’t look up. She waits until he’s almost completely past her before making her move; springing forward silently and grabbing his arm, using his forward momentum against him to swing him back around and into the darkened alcove.

She had counted on there being a bit of a struggle. She hadn’t counted on Jay completely turning the table on her. Instead of continuing momentum and allowing himself to be dragged, Jay stops dead; twisting his arm back around hers and spinning them both, grabbing Mal’s as he did so and slamming her into the wall.

Instinct takes over, blocking out the rational part of her that wants to cry out; to tell him to stop; that it’s only her. Crying out like that now would only be a weakness, not an asset in this fight. And, if she’s being completely honest (something that is encouraged here, and especially by Fairy Godmother), Mal really, really wants to fight.

She grits her jaw against any further cries that might escape, and jabs her elbow back, angling her thrust to catch him in the face. He throws up his arm and blocks her attack easily, grabbing her own arm and pulling back hard, kicking her leg out from under her and practically throwing her to the ground. Mal grunts once as the air is forcefully evicted from her lungs, rolling to the side to avoid the incoming punch to her face. She’s on her feet in the next breath, but doesn’t dodge in time, and catches his follow up kick in her side.

It’s not hard enough to break, but she knows for a fact it’s going to bruise. Mal grimaces, but reacts despite the pain, bringing her arm around his leg and trapping it to her side; lashing out with a sharp blow to his hip. Jay goes down with a hissed: “Mother fuck!” and Mal grins smugly, rocking her weight on her heels as she waits for him to clamber back up.

He isn’t playing games anymore, but neither is she. Jay lashes out with a controlled jab to her face, and Mal dodges this time, stepping to the outside of his thrust and retaliating with a punch of her own. She feels it in her wrist when she connects with his jaw, and she sucks a sharp breath as she dances away, shaking out her hand and ignoring Jay’s next swear. He’s angry now, and that’s to her advantage as he rushes his next attack, swinging too wide with his punch and allowing Mal to snap two quick punches at his exposed abdomen.

Jay growls his frustration and kicks out, his long limbs working for his favor this time and catching Mal in the stomach. She doubles over, and opens herself up for another blow, which connects solidly with her back and slams her down to the ground once more.

“Shit,” Mal hisses, wincing as her head strikes the tile, causing lights to flash behind her eyes.

“Son of a…Mal!?” She hears Jay hiss from above her, and she blinks against her hazy vision, pushing herself up onto her knees.

“Took you long enough, asshole,” Mal mutters, rolling her shoulders and grunting at the dull throb that echoes in her spine.

“Fucking hell, Mal, what were you even thinking?” Jay snaps fiercely, jerking her the rest of the way to her feet and shoving her further into the alcove.

“You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?” Mal retorts, straightening despite the pain and glaring at him, her eyes flashing violently.

“I’m the shit?” Jay repeats, radiating anger as he stalks forward. “You fucking b--”

“Finish that sentence,” Mal snarls, ducking under his thrown punch and striking him hard in the side. “Go on…see how well it works out for you.”

“The hell are you doing, Mal?” Jay bites out through gritted teeth, and Mal almost grins again in the knowledge that she had the upper hand in this situation. But she forces the vindictive side of her down, remembering Evie’s words; the warning the other girl had given.

“I’m apologizing,” Mal states flatly, crossing her arms in an attempt to physically contain herself from hitting him again.

Jay lets out a sharp bark of laughter, punctuating the bitter sound with a vicious blow to the locker behind him. “This is what you call apologizing?”

“I would if you’d let me,” Mal snaps back.

“Yeah, I can tell you’re really apologetic,” Jay replies sarcastically. “I don’t know if it’s the glowing eyes, or the smoke, but I can just feel your sincerity.”

Mal blinks, feeling the slight ache behind her eyes that confirms that they are, in fact, glowing. They hadn’t stung like that when glowing since she’d been a child, however, back when she was first learning about her magic. But smoke? She glances down and realizes that her fingers are twitching at her sides, and there’s definitely a soft spark forming in her palms.

“Just cut the crap, Mal,” Jay grumbles, slipping past her and making for the door.

Mal growls, clenching her hands into fists around the sparks and darting forward, kicking at the back of Jay’s knee and causing him to buckle.

“You cut the crap,” she retorts, standing her ground as he leaps to his feet and turns on her. “You ever stop to think that maybe, you don’t know everything?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” he bites out harshly, but Mal refuses to react to his tone.

“It means that I might actually have feelings,” Mal responds sharply, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to diminish their glow. “That I might actually be sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Jay counters lowly, his own hands clenching into fists. “Kicking me out of my own room? Taking over everything like you always do? For accusing me of not caring?”

Mal works her jaw against the surge of emotion in her chest, the words that she can feel building up in her throat. She forces them down, switching gears and crossing her arms, leaning back to stare up at him as she responds:

“I was actually going to apologize for that last hit. I’m pretty sure I heard something crack, though that could have just been my hand…”

She trails off with a slight laugh, but Jay scowls fiercely, making a disgusted noise in his throat as he shoves her against the lockers. His face twists, and she braces herself for another hit, but Jay shakes his head instead, backing away and turning back for the door.

Shit, Mal curses herself. Wrong move, very wrong move!

“Damn it, Jay,” she calls after him, and he stops, his back to her and fists clenched tightly at his side. “I just…I wasn’t…” Fuck it all, why was this so hard?

“You just don’t get it, do you?” he says quietly, his voice low and bitter.

“No, I really don’t,” Mal says with an exasperated sigh. “You know I’m not good with this sort of thing, but I…”

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Jay snaps, cutting her off.

“Are…are you still on this?” Mal groans, rolling her eyes at his back. “Look, I get it, you were here first and now I’m taking over and screwing everything up.”

“Oh, so you do get that much, at least,” Jay mutters, whipping around to face her, that hard look still on his face.

“Jay…”

“It was fine!” Jay snaps, his voice almost at shouting level. “It was all fine when it was just me taking care of me; it was what I was good at, it was how I survived. And then it was me and Evie…then Evie and you-- and then she found Carlos and suddenly it was me and us.”

He pauses then, but Mal doesn’t interrupt, remaining silent as she watches him pace a short line. Her eyes had finally stopped glowing, but she could still feel sparks twitching between her fingers. She forces herself to focus on Jay, who draws a shaky breath before continuing.

“Then it was us,” he repeats in an undertone. “And I had to survive for us, had to care about more than just me. And I did!” he shoots a quick glare in Mal’s direction. “You didn’t think I did, but I did.”

“I never thought…” Mal starts to protest, but Jay shakes his head sharply, not giving her the chance.

“I was the one who cared,” Jay says flatly, his hands unclenching slowly. “You…you were just Maleficent’s daughter.”

He might as well have struck her. Mal almost wishes he had; at least that pain she could have managed, could have hidden or ignored, at least for a little while. The blow that his words give is like a punch to whatever soul she may or may not actually possess.

“You’re right,” she chokes out instead, her expression blank; but inside she’s doubled over and screaming. “You do care, and you do a hell of a better job showing it than I do.”

Jay scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Understatement,” he mutters.

It’s not much, but it’s enough for Mal to find her anger again. She straightens, her eyes flickering green, and even without the sparks she’s an intimidating sight.

“You are wrong, though,” Mal continues firmly. “To say that I don’t care. That I never cared.”

“Ha, is that what you called what you did last night? That’s what you call caring?”

“I was there,” Mal snarls viciously. “I might be shitty with feelings, but at least I was there when I was needed.”

“And what do you think I was doing?” Jay retorts. “Just fucking around, as usual?”

“I don’t know, and really, it doesn’t matter.”

“Mm-hm, definitely see the caring now.”

“What matters is that we’re both where we need to be,” Mal replies stiffly, ignoring his sarcasm. “So this thing between us can just stay that way, alright?”

“I take it that was your apology?” Jay asks, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, fine, I’m sorry,” Mal says shortly. “Happy?”

“No, not really,” he says, his voice pitching slightly with irritation. “You’ll say you’re sorry, we’ll go back to the others and what?” he shrugs, spreading his hands. “You’re still just going to focus on the wand, so yeah, what does it really matter?”

“You think I’d be making myself weak like this if it didn’t matter?” Mal retorts, but it’s nowhere near as sharp as she wants it to be because her throat closes up on her for some reason. “I could have easily just said, ‘fuck Jay’ and pretended like you didn’t exist for however long we’re here for.”

She pauses to draw a breath, ignoring the way it makes her stomach ache where he had kicked her.

“I could have done that,” she says, steadier than before. “But I didn’t. I’m here, trying to make some kind of peace because I care about what happens to this team. It’s always been about this team for me.”

“Now who sounds like the fairytale?” Jay mutters, but his tone is a fraction lighter, and that cocky smirk is twitching at the corner of his lips. “Mal is actually apologizing, I mean, how am I supposed to respond to that?”

“You respond by saying you accept my apology, and promising to get your shit together and get back where you belong,” Mal says, letting out a short breath of relief that sounds too much like a sob for her liking.

“Wait, how am I the one who has to get my shit together?” Jay retorts, but he’s almost laughing now, and Mal feels a stronger surge of relief for a brief moment until he continues. “And anyway, I don’t think I heard a sincere apology.”

“No, but I was extremely sincere with my punches,” she fires back hastily. “Does that count?”

He laughs then, rubbing at his jaw. “Not for much, but I could definitely tell,” he grumbles.

“So could I,” Mal says, finally relaxing fully and allowing herself to really take stock of just where everything hurt.

The bell rings in the hall beyond, and they tense, sharing a panicked look that almost immediately dissolves into hushed laughter.

“To think,” Mal mutters under her breath as the hall fills with students once more. “That there’d be a time where we actually worried about missing class.”

“Or that we’d have a class we cared to miss,” Jay adds with another short laugh. “We should probably join the throng, though.”

“Yeah,” Mal agrees ruefully, scanning the crowd once before slipping easily into the masses. She feels Jay behind her, and pauses in her stride to allow him to catch up.

“I really am sorry, Jay,” she says quietly, when he’s next to her again. “And I do care, about all of us.”

“Yeah, I know,” he answers, just as quiet. “Me too. That thing I said about...I can be a dick sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Mal replies with a soft laugh, but there’s still a sour taste in her mouth; a pang in her nonexistent soul at the mention of his insult.

Jay scoffs in protest, shoving her with his shoulder and causing her to trip, which makes the students nearby stumble as they rush to get out her way. Mal winces, but recovers smoothly, straightening and giving him a signature, green eyed glare.

“Seriously though,” Jay says. “Which class did I miss, because I’m pretty sure I just heard some kid say ‘Carlos’ a second ago.”

“Biology,” Mal surmises with a scowl. “He can take care of himself. I know he can. But that teacher…”

“Careful Mal, you’re sparking again,” Jay says, and she thinks he’s teasing until she glances down.

“Fucking…” she trails off as she snaps her hands shut, the sparks dying as easily as they had come.

“Maybe you should skip your next class, too,” Jay suggests. “If you’re going to start torching everything.”

“Carlos is the pyro, not me,” Mal snaps back with a smirk. “And anyway, skipping wouldn’t be very good of me, now would it?”

“No, not really,” Jay agrees. “But I mean, we’ve done it so far…”

“I don’t want to face Evie’s wrath any more than I already have to,” Mal grumbles, though she secretly wishes she could skip again. She wasn’t looking forward to that confrontation nearly as much.

“He’s going to be really pissed at me, isn’t he?” Jay murmurs, and Mal glances over to see him frowning at the ground, his brows furrowed in worry.

“I doubt it,” Mal finds herself trying to reassure him, but she can tell from the look he gives her that he hadn’t bought the lie either. Carlos wasn’t known for forgiving easily, despite his saying otherwise.

They stop at the center intersection of classrooms and stand by the map as the second bell rings. The flow of students dies down again, and Mal turns and eyes the map to find her next class.

“Right, might as well face the music,” she sighs.

“What are the odds the armor can tell you where people are, too?” Jay mutters, glaring at the knight across from them.

“Can’t hurt to try,” Mal says with a shrug, dancing a bit on the balls of her feet as she braces herself to start running.

“Hey there,” Jay says to the knight, sliding over and leaning against the tin suit. “Any chance you know where I can find Carlos de Vil?”

The knight raises its chin in acknowledgement, but remains silent for a moment before its visor lifts and its hollow voice rings out: “The young de Vil is currently located in the library…on the third floor.”

“Wait, isn’t the library on the second floor?” Jay questions, and the knight takes another moment before answering.

“The Auradon Prep library spans five floors, and is accessible by both stairway and elevator. I would recommend taking the elevator to reach the young de Vil in the timeliest manner.”

“Well ok then,” Jay replies, a bit taken aback. “Thanks, I guess.”

The knight’s visor slams shut without another word, and Mal smirks at Jay’s mystified expression before jumping as the final warning bell rings above them.

“Shit,” she hisses, grimacing at the realization that she might just miss another class after all.

“Go,” Jay says, nodding his head at her. “I’ve got Carlos, and…and we’ll figure it out as we go?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, nodding back. She takes off down the hallway and hears him do the same behind her; jogging off in the opposite direction towards the nearest elevator.

“Apology accepted, by the way,” she hears him call to her as he goes. “Just thought I’d make it official.”

“Asshole,” Mal mutters under her breath in response, but she can’t help the small smile that slips onto her face, regardless.

At least it was settled, anyway. Though Mal would make sure she never had to apologize to anyone again.

Ben

Ben didn’t know which feeling was worse; his guilt or his sense of betrayal. The betrayal was certainly winning out at the moment, and he’s almost grateful for the sudden appearance of Doug, who rushes up to him with a worried look on his face.

“What’s up Doug?” Ben asks, slipping a smile onto his own face and stopping to meet the other boy.

“I was just wondering…if you had seen…one of my books,” Doug says, doubling over and huffing out short spurts of air.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Ben replies with a chuckle, relief flooding him at this new distraction.

“It’s dark blue with vines etched around it,” the other boy describes, holding up his hands to indicate the size. “It’s my ‘Theoretical Potions and Supplements’ book, I can’t find it anywhere!”

“Calm down,” Ben instructs calmly, placing a hand on Doug’s shoulder and bringing him upright again. “Take a deep breath.”

He waits until the boy is calmer before continuing. “Where did you last have it?”

“I-In my room,” Doug manages shakily, adjusting his glasses. “At least, it was the last time I checked.”

Ben blinks, caught off guard. He can’t help but think that this situation is vaguely familiar, but he doesn’t want to jump to any conclusions. “I’ll see what I can find out, Doug,” he assures with a smile. “But in the meantime, keep retracing your steps, ok?”

“Yeah, ok,” Doug agrees, nodding a few times before smiling back. “Thanks Ben.”

“No problem,” Ben replies easily, seeing Doug off before turning and heading back the way he’d come.

There’s no one else in the hallway to distract him as he walks now, and Ben can’t help but drift back to his conversation with his parents.

“Is it true that the Isle only gets our garbage?”

The silence that his question brings lasts too long, confirming his fears before his parents even begin their protests.

“What makes you ask that?” comes from his father, while his mother takes a second longer.

“Is everything alright, Ben?”

“No, it’s not alright!” he snaps, grimacing as he attempts to reign in his anger. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I just wanted to know if it’s true.”

“Well of course it isn’t,” his Dad blusters on. “They might be villains, but we aren’t entirely uncivilized.”

“It’s just, one of the things I noticed about the Four is that they don’t really do food well.”

“Translation of ‘do food,’” his mother murmurs, and he can tell from her tone that she’s trying to relieve the tension.

“It’s like they’ve never had it before,” Ben replies, deciding it’s best to be blunt. “They were worried yesterday at lunch that they’d get in trouble for eating if no one told them to, and then the way they ate…like they were afraid they’d never eat again.”

“I…I see,” his mother says softly, her voice breaking.

“And you think this means we’re feeding them garbage?” his father’s voice is also soft, but Ben can feel the growl behind the words.

“I asked Doug what he thought,” Ben answers honestly, but firmly, refusing to back down. “Because I thought it was a bit of a surprise, but he wasn’t surprised at all…he said it was probably due to the fact that the Isle only received our leftovers.”

“Well,” his mother begins lightly. “I can tell it’s really upsetting you, because you start talking formally whenever you’re trying to control yourself.”

“Mom,” Ben says shortly, and she sighs.

“Alright, I’ll stop trying to lighten things up,” she replies. “But Ben, I don’t know where the idea of garbage came from. Yes, we do send the Isle our leftovers, but just that; leftovers.”

“But then…I mean, why would…?”

“We don’t really keep track of it all though,” his father says slowly, and Ben grips his phone a little tighter. “There’s two main barges: the food drop off, and then the drop off for any old, used or broken materials.”

“Ok,” Ben says hesitantly. This was all new to him, and he didn’t want to miss a detail. “What sort of materials?”

“Well, anything, really,” his father answers, and Ben can hear the slight scoff that tells him his Dad didn’t think this was as important as Ben did. “Fabric that was discolored or ripped; faded leather; any technology unused in the past few years, broken furniture; that sort of thing.”

“And the food?” Ben asks quietly. “How often do we send food over?”

He hears a slow intake of breath on the other line, that soft sucking sound his Dad does when he’s ‘thinking.’

“Dad,” Ben prods. “When does the food barge go out?”

“It’s a monthly system,” his mother answers him, her voice low.

“Monthly?” Ben repeats sharply, then winces, biting his tongue to keep future outbursts to himself.

“Yes, monthly,” his father’s voice is stern, and Ben bites his tongue a little harder. “We collect the majority of non-perishable items from the leftovers at the school, as well as any ‘donations’ we receive from the kingdom.”

“Define ‘majority,’” Ben manages jerkily. “And ‘donations,’ while we’re at it.”

“Ben,” his mother cautions, but his father is already defining, however loosely.

“We gather anything the kingdom decides to give up: things that break or are otherwise dysfunctional, and if they choose to, it goes to the Isle. As for the food, it’s not so refined; we try for cans, mostly, since glass containers can be turned into weapons, if they survive the journey over.”

“And what else besides cans?” Ben asks, trying for calm. “What other ‘non-perishables’ do they get? And, you said ‘majority,’ but clearly somethings are slipping through cracks.”

“Like I said,” his father says with a sigh. “It’s not a refined system. We do what we can, but really, it wouldn’t surprise me if there were slips.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Ben snaps, abandoning reigning himself in. “They really could be eating garbage then, for all you know!”

It hits him before his father even says it, and it’s enough to make Ben physically sick.

“They’re villains, Ben. It’s what they are on that Island for; it’s what they deserve.”

Nearing the dorms, Ben is reminded once again of just why he’d felt so guilty, as he spies the staircase that led to rooms 13 and 17. This was what he was part of; what he had been a part of for so long, without even knowing it. He was surrounded by people who thought that very same way; that those on the Isle were evil and just getting what they deserved. But he knew that wasn’t true; he could see it wasn’t true in the four that he had now. Well, he could sort of see it. That thing with the knife though…

Ben grimaces, shaking his head as he climbs the opposite staircase to the dorm beyond. He would make this work; he’d prove them all wrong. They would see…hopefully. But for now, he had to focus on finding Doug’s book. He straightens as he reaches the door he had been looking for, the number 40 marking the wood, drawing a steadying breath before knocking.

“It’s open!”

Ben turns the handle, but the door doesn’t budge, and he frowns, knocking again.

“I said...damn it!”

“Um, excuse me?” Ben calls back, a bewildered laugh escaping him.

“No, not you…hang on…shit!”

Ben blinks, backing away as the door jars in its frame before swinging open, revealing a haggard looking Aziz, his curls hanging half in his face as he leans against the door.

“Sorry,” Aziz says sheepishly, running his fingers through his hair and sweeping it off to one side. “Come in.”

“Sure,” Ben replies slowly, stepping over the fallen lamp in the entryway.

“What can I help you with today, Your Majesty?” Aziz asks with a grin, while Ben stops just inside the door, frozen in shock.

The room is, the put it simply, a mess. Books are pulled off the shelves lining the walls, the drawers in the back dresser pulled out or overturned onto the floors. And then there’s the bed; the mattress pulled from the frame and sheets yanked haphazardly from the surface.

“Is everything ok Aziz?” Ben questions back, eyeing the room again before turning back to the other boy, whose smile falters a bit before resuming.

“Oh, this?” Aziz says with a laugh that Ben instantly recognizes as fake. “Nothing; thought I’d do some redecorating.”

“You graduate this year,” Ben reminds him, lifting a brow.

“Yeah,” Aziz agrees, his eyes flickering. “What better time?”

“Aziz…”

“So, what did you need, Ben?” the other boy cuts in, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “It’s gotta be something big, right?”

And that’s how Ben really knows something’s wrong. Aziz never called him by his name; even when they were younger, it was always some kind of ‘royal’ nickname. He’d been ‘Young Prince’ for all of last year, and had graduated to variations editions of ‘Your Highness’ all through this year; his coronation year.

“Not too big,” Ben says, deciding to play along, at least for now. “Doug can’t find one of his books, and I was just wondering…gosh, that sounds awful.”

“No, go on please,” Aziz replies, gesturing with his hand for Ben to continue. “We were just getting to the part where you beat around the bush to avoid asking if I had anything to do with its disappearance.”

“Aziz,” Ben says shortly, frowning at the other boy.

“Sorry, too much? Too much.” Aziz chuckles quietly, but Ben can see his eyes roaming around the bedroom, taking stock of everything in it.

“What is it?” Ben asks, and the other boy starts, looking up at him in surprise. “What’s bugging you?”

“Nothing,” Aziz answers hastily, his gaze still locked on his destroyed room. “I can’t find the lighter Dad sent me…stupid, really.” He shakes his head and tries for another smile. “I’m always losing stuff, it’s why he didn’t want to send it at first.”

Ben can feel how much the lighter means to the other boy, and he’s about to offer a condolence when it suddenly occurs to him.

“Wait, Aziz,” he says hesitantly. “You don’t smoke?” His confusion turns his words into a question, and seems to amuse Aziz, as his smile turns a bit more genuine.

“Sure,” he agrees amiably, nodding at Ben.

“At…at least you don’t smoke on school grounds, though. Right?” Ben has to ask.

Aziz’s smile turns mischievous as he brings a finger up to his lips. “Sshh,” he hisses in response, and Ben shakes his head in wonder.

“Aziz…”

“Anyway,” Aziz says, cutting short any attempt Ben might have made to scold the other boy. “You didn’t come to me about a missing lighter, you came about a missing book, which I know nothing about.”

“Ok, but about the lighter….” Ben tries again.

“Mm, the one no longer in my possession,” the other boy insists. “I do not currently have it, and until I find it…technically speaking, of course…it would be unfair to punish me for a crime I have not yet committed. Technically.”

“I…just…just tell me what you know about Doug’s book,” Ben sighs in resignation, running his hands down his face.

“Well, I don’t have it, if that helps,” Aziz replies easily, slowly moving to reorganize his room. “I don’t think…I borrowed a few things from people, so, it might be here.”

“Also going to need to talk about the borrowing,” Ben mutters, picking up the fallen lamp before moving to pull the bed back into place.

“What,” Aziz protests with a laugh. “I give it back.”

Ben shoots him a look, which Aziz shakes off with a shrug. “Most of the time.”

Ben sighs, and moves to the bookshelf, glancing at each title before shoving them onto the shelf. Aziz stuffs the last of the mess into the closet and stands, offering Ben a hand and helping him up.

“Any luck?” he asks, and Ben shakes his head.

“No,” he replies slowly. “Look’s Doug’s ‘Theoretical Potions and Supplements’ book is going to be harder to find.”

“Really?” Aziz scoffs, lifting a brow skeptically. “Potions and Supplements? What, is he planning on brewing something?”

“Magic and stuff like that interests him,” Ben defends. “And anyway…”

“Wait,” Aziz interrupts, holding up a hand and frowning. “It’s a potion book? Like, with ingredients and actual stuff like that?”

“I mean, it’s only theory, but, yeah. Why?”

“Remember the lab? Doug might not be planning on brewing anything…but someone else is.”

Jay

Jay didn’t think he’d ever been so happy to see home. He knew he didn’t have any right to call it that; it wasn’t his home, it was his Dad’s. But still, the run down, one story building was a welcome sight to the boy, and he eagerly scrambled over the half-broken wall that served as the back entrance to the building. His feet touched down on threadbare rug, and he let out a short sigh of relief. He was home. He was safe- from Maleficent, at least. The boy shuddered at the thought of the dragon woman, and her threat that still rang in his ears.

“Jayden!”

Shit.

“Just got in, Dad,” he called back, wincing as the front door slammed, the wood echoing dully in the frame.

“Well what are you doing in the house?” his father grumbled from the other room. “Come into the shop.”

To the untrained observer, Jafar’s voice would sound disgruntled, or perhaps mildly amused at his son’s presence. But Jay was not untrained, or an observer, and he was able to recognize the words, and the tone for what it is. It’s a threat, a warning and a command all at once, and Jay shivered again as he padded obediently into the front of the house which served as the shop.

The only divider was the red silk curtain strung up in the doorway, the bottom shredded and stained with what Jay always thought was blood, despite his father’s insistence that it was ink. Valuable things like silk wouldn’t have been shipped to the Isle if it weren’t damaged in some way, and the shredded hem and stain was clearly damage. As were most of the items in the shop. Shelves lined all four walls, although several cases were missing panels; every available surface filled with various goods.

Anything from clothes, to food to furniture, Jafar’s shop was the place to look first. There were a small handful of shops on the Isle, but only Jafar’s was so well stocked. It was one of Jay’s talents he took pride in, as he eyed the array of lamps on one shelf. He was the real reason the shop was running so well, not his Dad’s sales techniques. Speaking of….

Jafar stood at the far end of the shop, his back to Jay as he surveyed one of the bookshelves that contained weapons. The top half had been hollowed out, the shelves otherwise in use, so that longer items, such as swords or bows, could hang from pegs hammered into the wood. But Jafar was eyeing the smaller shelf, just below the swords; the one that usually stocked knives and poisons, and Jay suddenly realized why he’d been called in.

Fuck, the boy thought frantically. He was dead. So, so dead.

“Jay,” his Dad drawled again, once he was fully in the room. “Remind me again, how many knives I’ve sold this week.”

Despite the question clearly being rhetorical, Jay still paused a moment to think, desperately racking his brains for anything to save him. There had been two customers who’d been interested in buying a knife, but the number of people who’d actually bought a knife…

“None,” Jay managed shakily, fidgeting anxiously with the knife tucked securely in the back of his pants.

“What was that?” his Dad murmured, cupping an ear, his eyes glinting darkly as he turned to face Jay with a smile. “Sorry, old age has way of playing tricks on you.”

“You’re not that old,” Jay mumbled obligingly.

“The knife, Jay,” his Dad snapped, dangerous suddenly as his smile became a scowl, his shining just a bit more. “Did I sell any this week?”

“No,” Jay answered timidly, but then quickly straightened, forcing himself to meet his Dad’s gaze. “No one bought a knife this week,” he said. If there was anything Jafar hated, aside from Jay, of course, it was weakness. Jay wasn’t weak, even if he was terrified.

“Not a single one?” his Dad repeated, and Jay nodded slowly, his grip on the knife tightening. “Then I must have simply…misplaced one, is that what you mean to say?”

“No,” Jay denied quietly. “I didn’t say that.”

A brow lifted on Jafar’s face, but it was anything but confusion. Jay swallowed hard, refusing to break eye contact as his Dad took a slow step toward him.

“But, if I didn’t sell it, and it wasn’t misplaced, then…the only other option is that it was stolen. Is that what you’re trying to tell me, Jay?”

Jay noted the stress of his Dad’s choice of words; the way his voice pitched slightly in innocence. He was trying to give Jay a way out, but he recognized the manipulation for what it was, and he grit his jaw and ignored the little boy inside; the one that wanted to confess and cry, beg for forgiveness- for mercy. Mercy was for the weak, and Jay wasn’t weak. Not anymore.

“Jay?” his Dad asked again, his voice just a little tighter. “Is that what you’re telling me; my knife was stolen?”

“Yes.”

He watched the flicker of surprise that passed through his Dad’s eyes; but only his eyes, and only for a second. He was, after all, a master of masks.

“And, do you know who stole my knife, Jayden?”

Jay nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact. He didn’t trust his voice, didn’t trust himself why was he doing this why? He forced his panicked thoughts aside, gripping the knife until he was sure the hilt would leave an imprint on his skin. If this failed, his Dad was going to kill him. He was going to kill him this wasn’t how it was supposed to go!

His Dad caught the significance behind his gaze, and his face twisted sharply in anger before transforming again, becoming a mocking impression of grief.

“I’m disappointed in you, son,” he said softly, and Jay flinched in spite of himself.

He was never ‘son.’ Either ‘Jay’ or ‘Jayden’ or sometimes, strangely, ‘brother.’ But ‘son’…’son’ meant….

“Stealing, I have taught you, true. But to think that you would turn on me,” his Dad let out a quiet, self-depreciating laugh that was betrayed by the dark look in his eyes. “Clearly I’ve gone wrong somewhere.”

His hands moved all while he spoke, slowly untying the thick coil of leather from his belt, and Jay stiffened at the sight of it. He could feel a tremor begin to overtake his body and he shifted his weight in an attempt to hide it. He wasn’t weak. He would never be weak again, never beg again. Never feel….

“Put it back, Jay,” his Dad continued in that grieved tone, his eyes sharp. “Now, son.”

“I don’t have it,” Jay choked on the words, his own eyes glued to the whip that curled around his Dad’s ankle.

“Then you will retrieve it and return it to its place,” his Dad said stiffly, abandoning his sorrowful pretense in favor of anger.

Jay inclined his head once, almost grateful for the excuse to leave. Not fleeing, though, he reminded himself as he shifted his weight to do just that. No, he wasn’t running, he wasn’t a coward.

“After,” his Dad hissed, as though reading his mind, and the hand that held the whip twitched at his side.

Jay openly flinched then, his throat closing up as his heart began to hammer violently in his chest as his Dad took another step forward.

Don’t beg don’t beg, don’t you dare beg.

“Hands on the wall, Jay,” his Dad instructed with a curl of his lip, like he could sense Jay’s weakness. “And if you don’t want me to rip through that vest, I suggest you take it off.”

It wasn’t disgust, Jay realized as he slowly undid the buttons of his vest. No, while the slight curl of his lip might have indicated some kind of scorn, the look in his eyes suggested something else entirely. He was enjoying this, the sadistic fuck. The rebellious thought was enough to null Jay’s fear, allowing anger and a twisted sort of courage to fill him instead. His fingers brushed against the knife as he slid his vest back and down his arms, and the touch reminded him of his previous goal; the reason why he’d stolen the knife in the first place.

“Jay,” his Dad said again, a clear warning in his tone.

Jay straightened and forced himself to remain firm, calm as he gripped the knife behind his back and stared back at his Dad….No, no he wasn’t that. His father, no, not even that, not anymore; not ever. Jafar...yeah, that was it. That’s all he was to Jay now.

“No,” Jay said firmly, reveling in the way Jafar visibly faltered.

“No?” the man repeated, and Jay slid the knife an inch out of its scabbard.

“No,” he agreed darkly, straightening further in attempt to appear taller and older than his 13 years. “I’m not going to let you beat me anymore…you’re not going to beat me again.”

“Insolent brat!” Jafar snarled, his shock wearing off as he stalked towards Jay with whip upraised.

But Jay had meant what he said. He jerked the knife completely free from its scabbard, taking the first blow across the face and dodging the second. He jerked his arm up as he did so, catching the whip and letting the leather wrap around his wrist, grimacing determinedly when it bit deep into his skin. He snapped his arm back, pulling Jafar forward and lifted the knife, stopping just shy of cutting the man’s throat.

To say that Jafar was surprised, didn’t come close to describing the look on his face. Jay grit his own jaw, trying not to smile victoriously. He had to stay calm, stay cool like the snake he was. He stared Jafar down, realizing with belated glee that he was almost taller than the man.

“I learned a few things being out on the streets so much,” Jay bragged darkly, allowing the smallest trace of a smile to slip across his face. But it came out closer to a wince, as he waited for the inevitable outburst.

Jafar’s outburst came as a sharp, wheezing laugh, so loud and sudden it made Jay jump. The knife slipped from his fingers and thudded to the floor, but Jafar continued to laugh, arching backwards on his heels and cackling to the rafters.

“So it would seem!” he huffed out, before laughing again.

To say that Jay was terrified would also be an understatement. The boy released his hold on the whip and staggered back, his mouth falling open slightly in shock. He understood, suddenly, how some might say that Jafar was insane. He’d never seen such a drastic shift in the man’s behavior and expression before. Jafar was a master of masks and disguises, true but this- there was no warning, no subtle sign. Just…madness.

“Well, son,” Jafar murmured, still chuckling as he straightened slowly. “You’ve certainly surprised me.”

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fucking fuck.

Jay felt his bravado drain from his body, his legs threatening to buckle as Jafar began to stalk forward once more.

Dad.

“Really, I’m almost proud.”

Please…

“I’m sorry,” Jay choked on the words, the sound barely making it past his lips.

Why had he thought this was a good idea? Why why please don’t please don’t!

“Oh I know son,” Jafar crooned softly, the whip lashing out and causing Jay to scream the words; curling against the wall in a vain attempt to shield himself.

“I know.”

Jay

Jay could understand, walking to the library, just what Mal had meant when she said her apologizing made her weak. He didn’t begrudge her the task, though he had enjoyed dragging it out and making her uncomfortable. He hadn’t enjoyed the bruises that accompanied it, however; though Jay had had worse apologies- namely, ones that he had delivered. The scars from his last apology still itched from time to time, and that had been five years ago.

A turning point, Jafar had called it.

Jay works his jaw as he tries to shove those memories to the back of his mind. He was apologizing to Carlos, not Jafar. Which made the task infinitely harder because Jay actually cared about Carlos.

“I got this,” Jay mutters to himself as he nears the elevator. “Simple: ‘I know I was being a jerk earlier, but I won’t let it happen again.’”

‘Yeah, you’ve said that before, too,’ a dark voice hissed in his mind. ‘It didn’t work out so great.’

Jay grimaces, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and eyeing the metal doors before him warily. He assumed, from the sign hanging overhead that they were the ‘elevator’ in question, but they didn’t look like anything that could swing open, and doors didn’t even have a handle.

“Fuck kind of door is this?” Jay grumbles, glaring at the contraption. Why did they have to make things so complicated here?

He was tempted to just use the stairs, but he didn’t really like the idea of running up three flights if this thing was supposed to be faster. And anyway, the suit of armor had said he needed to reach Carlos ‘in a timely manner,’ caused a flicker of panic inside as he worried just why he needed get there so fast.

The soft clicking of heels interrupts Jay’s frantic thoughts, and he looks up to see that pretty Chinese girl- what was her name? Linette? Something like that- exiting a nearby classroom. Jay straightens as the idea strikes him, but then he frowns, hating himself for the very thought. He didn’t need help; he wasn’t weak…he could figure it out.

Jay steps towards the metal doors, shaking out his arms before wedging his fingers between the center crack, grunting as he pulled the doors away from each other. They made it about an inch before slamming closed again, and Jay hisses out a curse as he staggers back from the doors. He whirls desperately around to see that the girl is almost to the end of the hall, and he kicks the elevator in frustration before calling out:

“Hey, you! Uh, L-Linette?”

The girl jerks to a stop, turning and staring at him as though he had insulted her. “Lonnie,” she says slowly, drawing out her name in a way that tells Jay he clearly should know it.

“Yeah, Lonnie,” Jay murmurs sheepishly, glancing away before bringing his gaze back to her. “Um, do you think you could…? I mean…would….uh…”

‘Smooth.’

He trails off, grimacing at how pathetic he sounds. Different tactic: Jay straightens, tossing his hair out of his face and giving the girl his infamous sideways grin.

“Any chance you’d like to accompany me to the library?” He asks, dropping his voice to a level that always made girls swoon.

Lonnie glances around the empty hall before turning back to him, and Jay can’t quite read the expression on her face. It’s something like a coy smile, but he has the strange feeling that she’s laughing at him.

“And why would I want to do that?” she asks slowly, cocking her head slightly.

Jay falters once again, caught off guard by her lack of reaction. Girls always reacted to his charms. He glances back up to see that she was still staring at him with that weird look.

“You don’t know how to work the elevator, do you?” she says, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No,” Jay admits in an undertone, slightly embarrassed. “But I’m a fast learner,” he salvages, winking at her with another grin.

She still doesn’t respond, other than a quiet sigh, and walks over to the elevator doors. “See this button in the wall?” she asks, pointing at the wall before them.

Jay blinks, but follows her hand, eyeing the small button attached to the wall “Yeah,” he drawls, wondering what that had to do with anything.

“Click up if you need to go to the floor above, and click down to the floor underneath,” she says. “Since we’re on the first floor, this button only clicks up.”

“Then what?” Jay asks, losing his seductive tone in his curiosity. "Does the place you need to go transport around you? Or do you get magically transported there?"

Lonnie blinks a moment, her mouth opening and closing silently as she stares at him. Then she catches herself, shaking her head and sighing again. “Just watch,” she instructs, clicking the button.

A soft chime rings out, and the metal doors slide apart, and Jay would be lying if he said it didn’t startle him. He recovers smoothly, and steps into the small space, pausing when he realizes Lonnie isn’t following him.

“The key pad to your left,” she says, at his questioning look. “It’s numbered 1 to 5…just click the number that corresponds to the floor you want to go to.”

“Third floor library,” Jay informs, and she motions to the buttons again. He clicks the button labeled ‘3,’ and that hollow chime rings out as the doors begin to close slowly.

“Thanks,” Jay calls to Lonnie, grinning at her through the closing space. “Maybe I’ll catch you around again, sometime.”

She snorts softly, and smiles that strange coy smile again. “Yeah, maybe.”

Then the doors close completely, and the elevator begins to move, almost floating as it carries Jay up.

“She’s totally into me,” Jay murmurs to himself, chuckling as he watches the light on the elevator change.

‘Yeah, keep telling yourself that.’

He ignores the voice in his head and tries to bring his focus back on Carlos as the elevator chimes once more, sliding to a stop. The doors open, and Jay steps out into the third floor of the library, something instinctive telling him his safety lay in staying quiet. He creeps along, eyeing the rows of books warily and searching for any sign of his white-haired friend.

He finally spots Carlos, towards the back of the library, leaning against one of the walls. Jay breathes a quiet sigh and relaxes, straightening and moving towards the other boy with only a hint of doubt.

“Hey, Carlos,” Jay calls in a silent greeting as he nears, but he stops when he notices that Carlos isn’t leaning against the wall; he’s cowering against it. The other boy snaps his eyes over at the sound of Jay’s voice, his face twisting in a mix of anger and fear.

Jay tenses instantly, a cold feeling settling in his gut. Carlos was afraid…of him? Jay’s stomach sinks, and he takes a small step forward, but Carlos presses himself further against the wall and jerks his head in a short motion.

“Carlos,” Jay pleads softly, his voice breaking halfway through. “I’m sorry, alright? I get that you’re pissed at me, but….”

“Shut. Up.” Carlos hisses, his own voice barely a squeak.

Then that instinct part of Jay kicks in, and he realizes that it’s not him that Carlos is afraid of, it was something just behind him. Jay tenses even further, but doesn’t whirl around and face the thing like he wants to. Instead, he forces himself to stay calm, and takes a half step closer to Carlos, turning his body sideways so he could see. It takes him a second to realize what he’s looking at, because it’s half hidden by a row of books, but when he does, Jay understands Carlos’ fear.

It’s a dog.

A large dog, actually, though he had nothing to compare it to. It doesn’t seem to notice Jay at all, the thing’s large eyes locked firmly on Carlos.

“Oh, fuck,” Jay whispers under his breath, racking his brains desperately for a way out of this.

Ok, think, he snaps to his brain. What do we know about dogs? Only what Carlos knows, which is only what Cruella tells him, so take any info with a grain of salt. Ok, but what?

Dogs, otherwise known as four legged devils. Ranging in size from as small as a cup to as big as a full grown man. Regardless of size, all dogs were vicious and bloodthirsty, able to sense emotion; especially fear. Hunt in packs, and once they’ve locked onto a prey, will chase it relentlessly and without mercy.

And this particular dog-all white and covered in spots, had locked its sights on Carlos. Jay thinks that of course, it’s only fitting, but he doesn’t dare say it out loud. The dog takes a step forward, and Jay sucks in a breath while Carlos flinches, pressing even further against the wall.

“Carlos, come to me,” Jay whispers, as the dog cocks a head at the other boy.

Carlos shoots Jay a look, and despite his fear, Jay can read it quite well. Carlos would rather risk the dog than be with Jay. The dog, which lets out a soft bark, lowering its front half to the ground and wagging its tail rapidly.

“What does that mean?” Jay asks in a frantic hiss, darting an anxious glance at Carlos.

“H-how should I kn-n-n-now?!” Carlos growls back, his words barely making it past his clenched lips.

Jay wants to retort that he was the so-called dog expert, but decides against it as the dog lets out another soft bark. He’d seen similar crouches from the few cats on the Isle (the ones who didn’t get caught and eaten, that is) and knew enough to assume that the dog was getting ready to pounce. He had to act fast, but sudden movements would surely make this situation worse.

“Look,” Jay murmurs to Carlos, who was still trying to melt into the wall. “You can be mad at me all you want, I don’t care. But for right now, just get over here, ok?”

“Fffuck you,” Carlos snaps shakily in response, his lip curling briefly before he grits his jaw shut again.

“Damn it, Carlos!” Jay hisses, but then the dog moves again, bounding forward and poking its nose into Carlos’ leg, which makes the other boy flinch so hard that it startles the dog, which yelps before coming at him again.

“Hey, you,” Jay calls at the dog, sheer desperation driving him to insanity. “Hey doggie, over here!”

The dog turns to Jay and cocks its head, its tail wagging slowly back and forth.

“W-w-w-hat are you ddoing?!” Carlos yelps, but Jay ignores him, bracing himself and extending a hand to the animal.

“Yeah, that’s right, fur brain, over here,” he coaxes. “Nice killing machine, good devil spawn.”

“Jay!” Carlos whimpers, and his cry is enough to catch the dog’s attention once again.

“Fuck damn it,” Jay groans, as the dog pokes at Carlos a bit more insistently, licking at the boy’s knee with a slimy pink tongue.

Jay is all set to charge in and physically wrestle the dog away when a girl’s voice calls out:

“There you are, Pongo!”

Another boy’s voice rings out just behind hers, anger in the tone: “Hey, you, get away from him!”

The boy appears first, stopping just past the row of shelves and snapping his fingers sharply. “Pongo, heel,” he commands, though his voice shakes almost as much as Carlos.’

The dog whimpers, licking Carlos’ knee again before running to the boy and sitting next to his feet, tail still wagging. Carlos buckles against the wall, breathing hard, and Jay moves quickly, darting forward and catching him before he can hit the ground.

“Deep breaths, Carlos,” Jay encourages, supporting the younger boy’s weight until he gets his feet under him again.

“I swear,” the new comer continues sternly, or at least, would be stern if he weren’t so pale. “If you’ve done anything to hurt Pongo….”

“Listen asshole,” Jay snaps back, but he’s interrupted by the arrival of the girl, who squats down to pet the dog, fawning over it exaggeratingly.

“There you are, you crazy dog, you,” she coos to the dog before straightening and glaring at the boy. “I told you it was a bad idea to bring him to the library.”

“Yeah, well if I’d known he was going to be here, I wouldn’t have suggested it, Amy,” the boy snaps back, jerking his head in Carlos’ direction.

He’s about an inch or two taller than Carlos, though still significantly shorter than Jay, who uses it to his advantage as he stalks forward. He’s beaten to the punch by the girl, who slaps the boy on the arm and frowns at him.

“’He’ has a name, Richard,” she scolds, though she casts a wary eye in Carlos’ direction all the same. “And anyway, nothing happened, so…”

“But it could have happened!” Richard insists, glaring daggers at Carlos. “He’s as crazy as his mother; who knows what he’d have done to Pongo if we hadn’t gotten here first?”

“What Carlos would have…how about what your mutt would have done to him?” Jay growls, stalking forward once more.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the other boy snaps.

“Jay,” Carlos murmurs behind him, but Jay ignores him.

“I’m talking about that thing, jumping at Carlos and attacking him,” Jay hisses.

“He was probably just trying to play,” the girl, Amy, says, brushing a lock of auburn hair of her face. “He can be a bit enthusiastic, though.”

“That’s what you call playing?”

“Jay.”

Jay stops, turning to face Carlos, who’s glaring at him fiercely, his jaw set and drawing his face into a hard mask. The emotion is all there in his eyes, however, and Jay sucks in his breath at the sheer amount of hate and anger directed at him. It’s the betrayal underneath it all that really hits him, and he forces himself to keep his mouth shut and not spew out everything he wants to say.

The girl clears her throat quietly, and Jay turns slowly back to face her and the other boy.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” she says, and somehow manages a smile. “I’m Amelia Radcliffe, and this is my significantly more annoying twin; Richard.”

“Just because we were born at the same time doesn’t make us twins,” Richard huffs, in an aggrieved tone that makes Jay think he’s said those words a lot.

“It does,” Amelia says firmly, glaring at her brother before turning back to them with a smile. “And this is Pongo.” She indicates the dog at their feet. “Well, Pongo Jr. Jr. Jr, really.”

“It’s just Pongo,” Richard informs them in an undertone. “And anyway, it’s not something you need to worry about because you’re not. Touching. Him.”

These words are directed at Carlos, and Jay wants to punch the bratty kid, but Carlos stalks forward and glares at the boy, effectively shutting him up.

“I d-d-don’t care about you’re st…upid dog,” he growls, and even though half of the words stick in his throat, Jay has to admit he sounds pretty badass.

Richard thinks so, too, because he falters, backing away a step and grabbing onto his dog’s collar. “Well,” he says, trying for bravery. “Good, because you’re not turning him into clothes.”

“If you’re so-so-so-so worried,” Carlos bites out. “Wwhy don’t you g-go?”

The boy looks affronted, but he lifts his chin and storms past them and into the elevator, which chimes dully before taking him away. Amelia sighs, shaking her head at him, grabbing hold of the dog and giving Carlos a smile that was more like a grimace.

“Sorry about him,” she murmurs, sheepishly. “Um, but thanks for not punching him…or, well,” she glances nervously down at her dog before giving another smile/grimace. “Thanks.”

She hurries off after her brother, whistling nervously as she waits for the elevator to come back up. Then she shuffles inside, and with barely a wave, chimes off as well.

“Good riddance,” Jay huffs, glaring after the elevator. “Can you believe…?”

“Y-y-you should ggo too,” Carlos says, his voice cold as he sets his face again.

“Carlos,” Jay tries again, reaching a hand out to grip the other boy's shoulder. “I'm sorry, alright? I know I was...”

“It's nnnot alright!” Carlos snaps, jerking away from Jay's touch. “You...” He cuts himself short, turning sharply and completely closing himself off to Jay. “J-just go.”

“If that's what you want,” Jay rasps quietly, his voice thick as something breaks inside him.

Carlos doesn't respond, his body stiff, and Jay backs away, blindly clicking the button to the elevator. It's only as the doors begin to close that Carlos lifts his head, and Jay desperately leans forward, a vain hope filling him.

“It's w-what you're good at, an-anyway.”

The elevator doors slide shut then, and Jay thinks that the chime is mocking him with the way it rings out; so bright and cheery. And yet, at the same time...hollow.

Chapter Text

Evie

Mal slides into her seat beside Evie almost a half hour into the chemistry lesson, her bag slamming to the ground and spilling books onto the tiles. A soft snickering goes up from the class, headed by Chad; though it dies as Mal casts a glare around the room, and Mr. Deley clears his throat sharply.

“There you are, Mal,” he says sternly. “So good of you to join us.”

“Sorry,” Mal murmurs, ducking her head and rolling her eyes at her desk. “I forgot the way.”

“Hm,” Mr. Deley hums with a lift of his brow. “That is what all the maps are for. In the future, do try to be on time.”

“Sure thing,” Mal agrees, nodding her head politely, but Evie can see right through it.

The teacher turns his attention back to the board, explaining the various elements and how to calculate their weights and isotopes. Mal bends to gather up her books, and Evie notices the way the other girl moves, every motion stiff and deliberate. Evie sighs as Mal straightens, and she turns to the other girl with a stern expression on her face.

“You know for someone who scolded the boys for fighting, you’re a bit hypocritical,” Evie mutters with a frown. “I take it the other guy looks worse?”

Mal’s head jerks minutely in Evie’s direction, her eyes flickering guiltily before settling on the blackboard. “He deserved it,” Mal grumbles under her breath.

“I’m sure,” Evie murmurs tersely, jotting down a note from the board and trying to ignore Doug, who keeps giving her what he thinks are subtle longing glances from across the table.

“How did you even know?” Mal hisses, and Evie scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“I know you, M,” she replies haughtily.

“But still,” Mal mutters, brushing a strand of purple out of her eyes. “It’s not like he left a mark….”

Evie huffs a sigh and gives Doug a sideways glare of warning before glaring back at Mal. “Really, Mal? You and Jay…was that really necessary?”

“How the hell?!”

“Ahem.”

Both girls start, glancing up to see Mr. Deley frowning sternly at them both, although his gaze was focused mostly on Mal.

“Something you would like to share with the class, Miss…Maleficent?” the man drawls, with only the slightest bit of hesitation as he addresses Mal.

Evie grimaces, but Mal stiffens sharply, her eyes flashing a dangerous shade of green. Evie quickly reaches for her friend’s hand, placing her own over top of Mal’s and squeezing firmly.

“Mal,” she whispers, darting an anxious glance to the teacher before focusing back on the other girl.

Mal grits her jaw, and Evie feels her hand clench into a fist beneath her palm. A shock ripples through Evie’s fingers, and she lets go, startled at the soft spark that dances across Mal’s hand before disappearing.

“Mal,” Evie hisses again, a bit more insistently, but Mal jerks her hands off the table, shoving them into her pockets as she plasters a tight smile onto her face.

“No Sir,” Mal says, keeping her eyes on the chalkboard instead of the teacher. “I was just saying how excited I am to be learning about helium and its various isotopic measurements.”

Evie tenses, waiting for the man’s response. Mr. Deley simply huffs a sigh, something resembling resignation in his tone as he replies:

“Do please contain your excitement,” he intones lowly, and Mal nods in rapid agreement, relaxing only when the teacher turns back to the board.

“What were those sparks?” Evie demands, the moment the teacher’s back is turned.

“Nothing,” Mal snaps in an undertone. “Just…I don’t know…but it’s fine. I have it under control.”

“Sure you do,” Evie nods skeptically. “Is that what you call getting into it with Jay?”

“We’re fine now,” Mal defends, giving Evie a sideways glare. “He’s back with Carlos, anyway. Trying for an apology.”

Evie winces, sucking in a quiet breath. “I see why you chose the physical route,” she mutters.

Mal lets out an airy chuckle, her lips twitching sardonically. “Yeah.”

“I don’t envy him that task,” Evie continues quietly. Knowing Carlos, there was no way it could end as smoothly as it had with Jay and Mal.

“He knows, right?” Evie asks softly. “Carlos, I mean. He knows that Jay…that it was for the best that he wasn’t there?”

“He probably does get it,” Mal mutters with a subtle shrug. “But I doubt it’ll make a difference either way. It won’t matter why Jay left; it’s the fact that he left that’s going to be the issue.”

“Why can’t everything just be like chemistry?” Evie sighs, glancing down at her notes.

“It is,” Mal grumbles beside her. “Needlessly complicated and impossible to understand.”

“It’s not impossible,” Evie retorts, rolling her eyes at the other girl. “You just need to apply yourself more.”

“Wow,” Mal murmurs, lifting her brows in an exaggerated expression. “Condescending much?”

“But am I wrong?” Evie asks, smirking at Mal, who glares right back; her eyes flashing green again.

Across the table, Doug lets out a short spurt of breath that Evie recognizes as a laugh, and she snaps her head up to glare at him, instantly defensive.

“Something funny to you?” she snaps, and she silently revels in the way the boy pales, faltering over his words.

“Ah, no, no, I just…ha. Sorry,” he mumbles, stammering almost as bad as Carlos. “Just, what you said, about chemistry.” He glances up at her and tries for a smile, and Evie narrows her eyes at him.

“What about what I said?” she hisses lowly, and she can see Mal leveling the boy with a green-eyed glare of her own, backing up her silent threat.

“N-nothing,” Doug hastily whispers, desperately glancing back and forth between the two girls. “I just thought it was…funny? Accurate,” he clarifies quickly. “I also find that things are often a lot like chemistry: relatively straightforward, and only mildly explosive.”

He lets out another nervous laugh, his shy smile barely making it all the way across his face. Mal scoffs, rolling her eyes as she mutters: “Nerd,” under her breath. But Doug is looking at Evie, and the antagonistic princess can’t quite interpret that look in his eyes. She keeps her guard up, although she can’t help but think that he looks kind of cute when he’s terrified of her.

“Only mildly explosive?” she finds herself teasing, and Mal presses a fist to her mouth to stifle her groan.

“Get a room,” she coughs, low enough so only Evie can hear, and so it’s only Evie who blushes furiously, embarrassed even as her stomach clenches.

“Shut up,” she says flatly, and Mal shrugs a shoulder, dropping her eyes back to her scribbled notes.

“Just saying,” the other girl mutters, and Evie shakes her head, ignoring Doug completely as she forces her attention to the lesson.

He was cute, but just that. Cute. Something to amuse herself with while she’s stuck playing nice; for however long they’d be here, anyway. The thought of anything more…of even entertaining Mal’s teased suggestion; makes Evie sick. She’d stick with her games, and maybe, if it were a Prince, at least…Princes were noble, after all. A Prince would be understanding if she didn’t….

Evie shakes her head, bringing herself back to reality and working out the sample problems Mr. Deley had chalked up on the board. Mal gives up without a single glance at the work, busying herself by sketching out a rough ‘Long Live Evil’ design in her note book. Evie watches the drawing progress with bemusement, glancing over every few problems to see how far it had come.

“Not bad,” Evie offers, as Mal completes the curve of Maleficent’s horns, graceful and yet ominous as they hover just in the background of the sketch.

“Do you mean my talent, or the drawing?” Mal murmurs, the corner of her lips curving upwards, though her eyes remain focused on her sketch.

“Obviously I meant the drawing,” Evie quips, and Mal growls, though the sound is stolen by the sudden ringing of the bell.

“Remember, there will be a test within the week,” Mr. Deley intones solemnly from the front of the class. “Although it is not the mid-term, it will still count for a third of your grade.”

“Whoa,” Mal says lowly, dragging out the sound. “Really?”

“Yes. Really,” Mr. Deley replies in that same solemn drawl. “All the more reason to be on time, Miss Maleficent.”

“Right,” Mal answers in a clipped tone, her jaw clenching angrily between syllables. “I will definitely be keeping that in mind.”

Evie steers Mal out of the classroom quickly, not letting go until they were safely out of range of the other students. She had seen Mal’s fingers sparking again, and regardless of how she felt about certain members, she didn’t want to see anyone set on fire.

“Seriously though, M,” Evie says sternly, once they were clear. “What is with the sparks? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Ooh, princess has got a potty mouth,” Mal croons with another wicked curve of her lips. “Would you kiss Doug with that mouth?”

“Mal,” Evie snaps, so harshly it’s almost a growl.

“What?” Mal protests with a soft chuckle, spreading her hands in innocence. “I mean, it’s obvious enough that….”

“Stop.”

Mal blinks, furrowing eyebrows as she glances at Evie in confusion. “O…k,” she drawls slowly. “Sorry? I think?”

“Just…forget it,” Evie exhales shortly, pursing her lips and trying to drive the thoughts from her brain; flickering images and feelings of brick walls and a heavy, rasping breath.

“I was only kidding, E,” Mal continues carefully, seeming to understand where the girl’s thoughts had gone.

“I know,” Evie responds in a clipped voice, forcing a light note in her tone. “Drop it; it’s fine.”

It wasn’t, and they both know it. But Mal doesn’t press, instead nodding her head and flipping open her sketchbook again to doodle as they walk.

“It’s just a concept design,” Mal mutters, when Evie comments once again the skill of the drawing. “I’m gonna paint it on my locker.”

“Is that allowed?” Evie muses, grateful for the switch in subject, even if it wasn’t the one she had originally addressed.

“Most likely not,” Mal replies, unabashed. “But Prince Ben did say we were free to personalize and decorate our lockers however we wanted, so….”

“So legal vandalism,” Evie finishes with an amused laugh.

“Got that right,” Mal agrees with another sly grin.

A grin that quickly morphs into a scowl as someone rushes past, knocking against Mal’s arm and toppling her sketchbook for the second time.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, asshole!” Mal hisses, abandoning her book to whirl furiously on the intruder, leaving Evie to scoop up the fallen sketchbook for her.

“Such language,” a familiar voice says above her, and while the tone sounds playful, Evie can hear the strain in his voice.

“Jay,” Mal growls, not breaking eye contact even as she accepts her book from Evie. “Don’t make me beat you again.”

“Ha,” Jay barks sharply, his eyes glinting. “As if! The way I recalled it, I had the upper hand in that fight.”

“You slimy….”

“Jay,” Evie breaks through their banter with icy calm. “Where’s Carlos?”

Jane

When Ben had announced that he wanted to bring Villain kids over from the Isle, Jane couldn’t help but admit that she was terrified. She’d be lying, otherwise, and, well…it wasn’t something a respectable heroine would do; much less the daughter of a fairy. There had been excitement from some; Jane knew Lonnie had been one of the excited ones. Her roommate hadn’t stopped talking about it: wondering if there’d be any ‘roguishly handsome guys,’ or *ahem* ‘bad-ass and sexy’ chicks.

That sort of talk always made Jane uncomfortable, given her lack of either experience, or prospective significant others. Although her mother always said that ‘True love waits,’ and that it applied to more than just, well…things that Lonnie or some of the other older teens would be more interested in.

Jane’s main concern, was the one that realists like Audrey shared: they were…are villains! And Ben was just letting them free in Auradon, with access to things like magic, and technology, and…other students. It was a nightmare just waiting to happen.

And a part of that nightmare had already occurred, if the talk around school was to be believed. Jay and Carlos, attacking Chad and some of the other tourney team members with a knife…it was pieces of a villain origin story of fairytales come to life. There were other things being whispered around school too, though; how what was previously believed about Carlos de Vil being mute was actually a lie.

Jane didn’t know what to think about the villain kids, other than that they were dangerous, and that the key to her survival of this term would just to be invisible. So, not much different than her usual. Jane sighs to herself as she nears the wing that held all of the various workshops and other extra-curricular classes. She’d stupidly left her sewing bag in the Home-Ec room- not that she was good at either sewing or maintaining a home. But the class had been one her mother had insisted on, and so Jane resigned herself to her fate. She would have much rather taken one of the Magic Theory classes, but her mother insisted that such a class was unnecessary, despite Jane ‘technically’ being part Fairy.

But Jane had to trust that her mother knew best. She had to; because Goodness knows Jane had no clue what she was doing, and if her own mother didn’t know, well…Jane would not want to live in such a world.

A crash from one of the nearby classrooms, jolts Jane from her chaotic thoughts, startling her so badly she almost dropped her bag again. She clutches the cloth to her chest and freezes, holding her breath as another, albeit softer, crash sounds. Judging by the metallic note in the crashing, it’s coming from one of the ‘forges’- the student body’s nickname for the metal working classes. But those workshops were banned from any and all student use or contact outside of class. It was too dangerous, what with some of the objects and machinery containing traces of magic; and so Jane couldn’t help but wonder who was intruding.

Her curiosity gets the better of her fear, but not her caution, as she creeps on her toes towards the nearest classroom. The part of her that knows better screams at her; what are you doing? Don’t investigate! Get help! Jane has to agree; it was an almost classic horror scenario, but she had to know what was going on first, right? How else would she know what it was she was getting help for?

That was her curious side talking again, and Jane steels her nerves as she shoves open the door to the workshop, pausing just short of entering. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of the magical workshops, but the things in here could still seriously injure her and whoever it was that had broken in.

“Hello?” Jane calls softly, not daring to turn on the light, despite the part of her that wants to. “Anyone there?”

There’s no answer, but really, any intruder or murderer would know better. She takes a cautious step into the room and stops just over the threshold.

“This room is off limits to students,” Jane tries again, grateful that her voice doesn’t shake too badly. “Although, granted, that means me, too, but….”

She trails off with a gasp as a breath sounds from in the room; something that would have been a laugh if sound had actually been added to it. As it is, it’s still enough to completely terrify her.

“Ok, well, whoever you are, I’m going to give you till the count of three to leave,” Jane manages with false bravery as she takes a step back. “Otherwise I-I’ll have to…contact the authorities.”

‘Really, Jane?!’ Her brain screams at her. “Contact the authorities??”

But her faltering threat seems to be enough for the intruder, as something shuffles by one of the anvils, and suddenly she’s staring at a shadow. The shadow is about her height, maybe taller, but outside of that, there’s not much Jane can make out, other than that the shadow also seems to be a bit shaky.

“Who are you?” Jane calls nervously, then clears her throat, trying for that bravery thing again. “I mean, this place is off limits.”

The shadow shuffles a bit more, and Jane-slightly irritated by the silence and heavy atmosphere- flicks on the light. The shadow lets out a startled noise, and suddenly vanishes, the figure ducking back under the anvil.

“Hey, no!” Jane cries out, taking a few quick steps forward before remembering that intruders were dangerous. “You can’t be in here! I mean, neither can I,” she mumbles. “But that’s why you need to get out. Now.”

The intruder doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a single move, and Jane huffs a sigh of frustration.

“Look, I can’t leave until you leave, so you might as well come out.”

There’s a soft shuffle of movement, and Jane jumps in surprise as the intruder slowly creeps back out; but from one of the machines to her left, instead of the anvil at the back of the room. It’s not just the sudden appearance that scares her, either; it’s that intruder is…is…

“Carlos?” Jane squeaks, suddenly terrified all over again. Oh, pixie dust, she was in trouble now! Carlos de Vil, of all the potential intruders in the school, it had to be him. The mute sociopath.

‘Well that’s not very nice,’ her brain scolds. ‘I mean, probably not inaccurate, but still…not nice.’

Carlos, for his part, looks almost as terrified as Jane, his body still not entirely free from the machine he’d been hiding behind. He’s tense, and his eyes keep darting around the room, shifting from the various machines to the open door behind her, and Jane can tell he’s trying to plot out some kind of escape route.

The stupid part of her leans back and closes the door, effectively shutting them both in. Carlos’ eyes flicker, raw and wild, before he suddenly stops, his body stilling its tremors; and when he looks back up at her again, he’s completely calm. He steps out from behind the machine, his movements fluid and purposeful, and his face betrays no emotion whatsoever.

‘So, definitely a sociopath then?’ she whispers anxiously to herself; to which her brain replies: ‘Oh yeah, we’re done for.’

“Look,” Jane says, backing away as he takes another small step forward. “I don’t care that you were in here, I mean, I do, because it’s dangerous and the parts are sharp and sometimes that anvil can still be really hot and there’s all kinds of things that can go wrong and explode or catch on fire and….”

She gasps, realizing she’s rambling, although Carlos was no longer moving towards her. He had stopped only a foot or so away from his hiding place, his eyes dark and calculating as he stares at her, his lips set in a line.

“What I meant to say is,” Jane falters. “You shouldn’t have come in here, but as long as nothing’s broken, and you aren’t hurt, we can both go.”

His eyes flicker at that, the slightest shift in his expression; a tiny furrow of his brows, and Jane realizes he’s confused about something.

“I mean,” she attempts to clarify. “This room is off limits except for the students who are actually in the workshop class…uh, so.... I mean, unless one of the machines got knocked over or you’re hurt or something. Then we’d have to see the nurse or whatever. But I’m ok with just leaving…pretending like this didn’t happen.”

Jane stops herself before she starts rambling again, but she’d just so nervous! And terrified, because he’d still just staring at her blankly, his lips a tighter line than before.

“Ok,” Jane drawls nervously. “Um, I guess, we’ll just do a quick check?”

He blinks at her, and she takes that for a yes. She draws a slow breath and glances around at the equipment. Nothing looked like it had been broken or taken apart, but there had been that loud crashing….

“Uh, are the machines ok?” Jane asks carefully. “Um, nothing broke or fell, did it?”

Carlos’ expression turns guilty, his eyes flickering away from hers in a sudden show of vulnerability before he slowly shakes his head.

“Ok,” Jane says, a little skeptical but desperately going with it in the hope that it would get her out of here faster. “And you’re ok? I mean, you didn’t burn yourself on the anvil or anything like that?”

He shakes his head again, but he’s not looking at her at all now, his eyes cast towards the ground as he fiddles with something attached to his belt. Jane peers closer and sees a small furry something hanging on a chain from one of his belt loops. She thinks it’s a rabbit’s foot, but with another glance, as well as a subtle probe from her brain (why would the son of Cruella de Vil have a lucky rabbit’s foot?) she realizes it’s a grey and white dog tail.

“Well that’s good,” Jane mumbles, fidgeting a little herself. “That you’re ok and all. Um, I guess….” She reaches behind her and opens the door, stepping to the side to let Carlos past.

He glances up at her then, all wary and nervous again, like he didn’t think she was really going to let him go.

“I said as long as you weren’t hurt and nothing was broken, it’d be ok,” Jane tells him, taking another step and moving out into the hall, where she could breathe easier. “So, uh, it’s ok. I mean,” she fumbles anxiously. “Not ‘ok,’ since, breaking and entering and all that, but…”

She breaks off as Carlos approaches her and the door, the corners of his mouth twitching despite the fact that his lips were still in a tight line and his dark eyes unreadable. It occurs to Jane, as he slips quickly past her and into the hallway, that that had been the reason he’d had that expression; he wasn’t angry or trying to intimidate her: he was trying to keep himself from laughing at her!

The thought stung, though she didn’t know why; it’s not like it’s a first for her. But it also makes her a little angry, and she whirls sharply on her heel to go after him before remembering the door. She turns back quickly to make sure the workshop door was properly secured, before whirling back and jogging a few paces after him.

“You know I could still report you!” She calls, her indignation striking against his back and having no effect. “I could!”

He barely pauses in his stride to toss a lopsided smirk over his shoulder at her, his eyebrows lifting as though to say: ‘No you won’t!’

“I will,” Jane promises in faltering tones. “I mean, I should!”

He makes that quiet chuckling noise again; not really a laugh, since there’s no sound, but Jane can feel the laughter; his amusement.

“What were you doing in there, anyway?” Jane demands, her curiosity and anger proving to be a dangerous and overwhelming force that completely drives away her sensible fear. “Shouldn’t you be in class with Jay and the rest of your group?”

The effect of her words was instant and startling. Carlos stiffened, freezing in place like…well, not ‘like a statue,’ since that was a little too cliché for Jane’s liking. Almost like he’d completely stopped being a moving, breathing human being; like he’d never moved and never would. Jane had managed to catch up to Carlos- fortunately? unfortunately? enough- and so she is able to watch the almost painful twisting of his face. His eyes widen a fraction, something flickering in them that she couldn’t quite interpret. His lips pull back from his teeth in what Jane thinks at first is a grimace, but then with a hard clench of his jaw becomes something of a snarl.

He maintains the expression for all of two seconds. Then he blinks, and it’s terrifying to see how fast the emotion is wiped from his face, his lips once more that tight line; his eyes dark and completely closed off. Jane would describe it as a mask: except it’s his actual expression, and she falters when he continues walking, as though she’d never spoken to him in the first place.

“Y-you know,” Jane stammers out, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re actually quite expressive for someone who’s supposed to be mute.”

He doesn’t react at all this time, his stride purposeful and sure; despite the fact that Jane was pretty sure he had no clue where he was going. She continues along -at a safe distance- beside him, eyeing him sideways every now and then to make sure her remark hadn’t made him angry and he wasn’t just waiting for a chance to pull a knife on her.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ her brain mutters. ‘Too late for that,’ the other part of her brain scoffs.

Jane grits her own jaw in a silent grimace, and focuses back on the situation at hand; namely, that they’re going the wrong way.

“We really should get back to class,” Jane mumbles, half to herself and half to Carlos, who jumps like he’d forgotten she was there too.

The look of surprise and fear on his face again, only last a second, but it’s long enough to make Jane pause. It couldn’t have been a genuine reaction; she was anything but terrifying. She thinks it must be a reflexive thing, judging by the way his body remains tense and wary, his eyes quickly scanning the empty hallway before glancing at her. He takes her in for a moment, then looks away again, biting at his lip in a strange show of nervousness.

“I mean,” Jane says, feeding off of his nervous energy and tugging at her bow. “I don’t have a class, but you do…I think. You already had biology, so I think you just have….”

Carlos makes a soft noise in his throat that she thinks is a laugh, and is confirmed as such when Jane looks up at him and sees his lips twitching, his brows lifted in amusement. It sets off her anger again, and a part of Jane thinks that she’s right in her feelings that the villain kids were bad influences; she’d never gotten this angry twice in one day!

“Haha, yes, Jane is just so funny,” Jane snaps, though not quite as harshly as she thinks it should sound. “Everyone else laughs at me, so why shouldn’t you?”

She doesn’t realize she’d stopped walking in her anger, until Carlos turns around to face her and she notices that he’s in front of her, now. His expression is no longer amused, in fact, he looks almost worried, his brow furrowed slightly and his lips parted like he wants to say something. But of course, it’s ridiculous of her to think that, no matter what hurtful rumors were spread.

“Who would laugh at you?” Carlos asks; although it comes out like: “Hoo, hoo, hoo?” And that other part of Jane snidely thinks he sounds like an owl.

His voice a hesitant and nervous whisper in her shocked silence, as the rational, normal part of her brain loops like a record. ‘He can’t talk! How is he talking? They said he couldn’t talk, and yet….

“You can talk?” the startled part of burst out, and Carlos makes a face, a bitter twist of his lips as he answers.

“Barely.” Except the ‘B’ gets stuck somewhere, and when it finally comes out, it’s in a loud burst of a hard ‘B’ sound, the rest of the word no longer important.

“I thought…,” Jane starts, but then she catches herself and goes with something less like what the other part of her would say. “I thought Chad was just being a jerk, saying that you….” It’s still too mean, and she breaks off again with an apologetic grimace.

“Th-that I hhad a st-st-stutter?” Carlos finishes for her, that bitter note still in his voice.

“Yes,” Jane admits in a whisper, regretting bringing it up. “I’m sorry.”

“Sso am-m I,” he mutters, breaking eye contact and glaring fiercely at the wall to his left.

“Oh gosh, no!” Jane cries, horrified. “No, I didn’t mean it like that, I swear! I meant I’m sorry they’re saying things like that.”

“W-why?” he asks, his lips curling in a grimace. “It’s nnot fff…it’s not a lie.”

“No,” she agrees reluctantly. “But the things they’re saying, well…anyway, I only meant, I know what it’s like, so…I’m sorry.”

You-you mment-ioned that,” he mumbles, but his glare at the wall had softened, and was almost amusement again.

“You never did mention, what you were doing in that workshop,” Jane presses with a shy, teasing smile.

Her brain does a double take and practically keels over with the force of it. ‘What in the name of all that is Good and Holy are you doing?! FLIRTING?!? With Carlos de Vil!?!’

Jane politely tells her brain to shut up, and then immediately apologizes for it. Carlos actually chuckles, but there’s something sort of shadowed in his eyes that doesn’t match the amusement.

“Are you always this ffforward?”

That weird part of her that is actually enjoying the banter, attempts to say something coy and subtle; something cool like Lonnie would say, like: ‘Only when I’m talking with you,’ but what actually comes out is:

“No.”

He laughs again, and when he turns back to her, his mouth is in a crooked sort of sly smirk.

“Wh-what were you d-doing?” He counters; and if there’s a part of Jane that registers his suddenly relaxed muscles- or if she’d known enough about Carlos to realize that this is the most he’d ever spoken to anyone who wasn’t Mal, Jay, or Evie; if she knew that his stutter was worse when he was nervous or didn’t trust someone, and so it’s even more remarkable that his speech had gradually smoothed out some- it doesn’t show.

It also doesn’t show that this is the most Jane has allowed herself to interact with anyone; let alone in such a bold and positive manner. That not a single negative thought about herself had currently drifted through her thoughts; no twisted comparisons to others, no disparaging remark on her lack of ‘experience’; and that it’s a bit of a beautiful irony that she’s opening up so much because of, and towards- a villain. All that does show is the slow, faltering steps towards some kind of mutual something; and any observer who knew both of the participants as well as they themselves did not know the other- would look upon this moment with a mix of awe and glee.

“I have an excuse,” Jane retorts in faux superior tones, drawing herself up to a height that was…actually only a few inches shorter than Carlos himself. “I was supposed to be there. You weren’t.”

“R-really?” Carlos replies, his lips twitching and betraying his attempt to appear skeptical. “And wha-wha-what was that?”

“I left my sewing bag in one of the other classrooms,” Jane mumbles, dropping her gaze in embarrassment. “Stupid, I know. It’s not even a surprise anymore.”

And there it is, that other part that always ruined things for her. ‘You ruin it for yourself,’ that part hisses venomously. ‘Like, really though. Like he’d actually have had anything to do with you.’

Jane bites her lip hard, and winces when it actually hurts too much, blinking at the worn black and red boot-like sneakers that suddenly take up her vision.

“Y-you’re not stu-stu-stupid,” Carlos says, and his voice is so soft and yet so firm, that it’s enough to cause her brain to cease all thought production.

“Auh,” is all Jane manages, as she lifts her gaze to find him staring at her, his eyes just as firm, if not a little hesitant. She thinks- except not really, because her brain still wasn’t providing that function yet- that she might like to do something here, but she couldn’t (obviously) figure out what that would be.

Then Carlos blinks, and draws back again, shaking his head as though to clear it before glancing back up with that sly look again.

“An-anyway,” he mumbles through his grin. “I had r-reasons too.”

“Uh-huh?” Jane replies, and she’s grateful that her brain finally got itself together enough to actually play along like nothing happened. She’s just about press for what that reason was when the bell rings sharply above them, and Carlos jerks, pressing back against the wall like he expects some kind of attack.

“Oh, we’re in the opposite wing,” Jane reassures, her brain slowly piecing together that he probably thought he’d be trampled by students. (A valid fear, experience had shown her.) “No swarms of students over here.”

She laughs, but he doesn’t reciprocate, his head slowly whipping back and forth, verifying her words that it was still clear before stepping out again. It was a shame she wasn’t firing on all cylinders yet, because she would have realized what a weird reaction it was. How severe.

“I sshould pro-probably go,” Carlos murmurs, and he’s adopted that ‘not-mask’ again; although Jane finds she can see through it, now, and can tell he’s nervous about something.

“I mean, it’s only what I’ve been trying to tell you the whole time,” Jane tries to tease again, and it causes a soft lift to the hardness in his expression. “And anyway,” she continues. “I have…oh pumpkin seeds!”

“You wwhat?!” Carlos cries, his eyes widening as he stares at her.

“I have a study hall!” Jane gasps, remembering. “A double period, too; and I’ve already missed the first half!”

Carlos laughs then, but Jane’s brain finds it very not funny. She scrambles for her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, then, still frantic, grabs Carlos’ hand.

“Come on,” she pants. “I’ll show you....” ‘The way back,’ had been what she was going to finish, but Carlos had jerked back and was now staring at her in a way that looked all too much like a frightened and injured puppy. (Again, the unwitting irony.)

“Sorry,” Jane apologizes quickly, but sincerely. “I didn’t mean to pull so hard. I just didn’t want to miss any more of my class.”

Carlos shakes his head, straightening slowly and offering a weak smile. “You’re…you’re g-good.”

Oh, the joys of the double entendre! Except, Jane didn’t know it at the time.

“Still,” she continues. “I should have been more careful.”

The second warning bell rings ominously, and Carlos glances at Jane’s anxious face before breaking into a jog. Jane catches up, and he lets her overtake him and guide the way, while Jane tried to delegate tasks to her body that would allow her to run and complain at the same time.

“Fiddly faddle foodle!” She swears, grumbling under her breath. Carlos shoots her an extremely amused grin as they turn a corner and a familiar hall appears ahead.

“Th-that’s a lo-lot of ‘f’s,” he says. “I gotta ssimpler one you c-could tr-try.”

Jane trips, and it’s his turn to grab her hand, keeping her on her feet. He jerks her upright a little too forcefully, but Jane thinks it’s because he’s laughing; an actual laugh that he keeps trying to stifle- pressing his lips together tightly so it ends up becoming a childish giggle.

“I would never,” Jane gasps indignantly, once she’s recovered her shock of nearly falling. She fixes Carlos with what she hopes is a stern glare, but it only sets him off laughing again, hand coming up to cover his mouth as his eyes gleam wickedly at her.

“I-I-I was j..ust ki-kidding!” Carlos finally gasps out, his laughter doing little to persuade her.

“Well,” Jane says, still frowning. “That sort of language isn’t becoming of a young lady. Or a young gentleman, either,” she adds, her eyes narrowing at him.

His own eyes widen at her look, then he glances blankly around the hallways, briefly pausing as he takes in the sudden crowd in the distance before turning back to her.

“Wh-ho, me?” he asks, resting a hand against his chest. “I-I’m suppposed to be the ge-ge-gentleman?”

“You’re supposed to be,” Jane mutters. But it’s only halfhearted because, somehow, strangely and impossibly enough, Jane finds herself starting to actually like Carlos de Vil’s company.

Which makes the third and final bell that much more painful. They both jump this time, and Jane mutters another Cinderella themed swear under her breath; something along the lines of ‘Lucifer’s hairballs,’ as she ushers a hasty farewell to Carlos.

“I’ll see you at dinner?” she half asks, half states, the pressing matter of her tardiness momentarily distracting her shy and fearful side; making her stupidly bold again.

Carlos just nods, his hand barely coming up for a wave, a mystified expression on his face that Jane doesn’t have time to try and interpret. It’s only after they’ve parted ways, and Jane is rushing to get to her study hall that she realizes she’d forgotten to ask him what he’d taken from the workshop.

Carlos

“It’s just…disappointing.”

“I know it is, ‘Ella, but if you just give it time--”

“Ceran would have spoken by now.”

“…Maybe. There’s no way to know for sure…and Ceran is…”

“Because of him!”

“No, Ella. Carlos isn’t to blame. No one is.”

“No. Not no one…Auradon.”

“He’s rather dull, isn’t he, Baby?”

“They say Carlos is actually quite smart for his age.”

“Smart! Do you hear that? He calls him ‘smart.’”

“Try talking to him.”

“What good will that do?”

“They say it will help encourage him, hearing how the words are supposed to sound.”

“’They say.’ And do They also say when this Island of theirs will be ready for our imprisonment?”

“…It’s only talk, ‘Ella. They wouldn’t really…”

“Funny how everyone else seems to be talking but him.”

“Just…give it time.”

“Carlos!”

He likes the man better, he thinks.

“Carlos, look at me!”

He had a nice smile, and looked at him, instead of through him. He played games with him, sometimes, and talked to him nicely too.

“Carlos, can you say ‘Mommy’?”

He blinks, wondering why he would want to do that. Was the nice man, ‘Mommy?’ He didn’t think so, somehow.

“Honestly, darling, why you’re still trying….”

He doesn’t like the lady much at all. She doesn’t like him. Carlos knows that from the way she looks at him, her voice not at all soft and nice like the man. And she was scary…sometimes she’d be nice, and talk to him nice and she’d hold him and it wouldn’t hurt. But she called him Ceran when she did that, and he was Carlos.

“You can do it,” the man says again, and his eyes are shining, and Carlos wiggles happily. He likes it when the man’s eyes are shiny. “Say, ‘Mommy.’”

He wants to try, at least. For the nice man. Carlos wiggles harder, watching the man’s mouth move with intense, dark eyes.

“Mommy,” the man says again, dragging out the word slowly.

Carlos reaches a tiny hand out and grabs the man’s face, making him laugh as Carlos traces his tiny fingers over the man’s lips.

“Mmmm,” Carlos hums, wiggling again as the man suddenly pauses.

“Ella, look!” He whispers, and the lady is suddenly there; too close to his face and smiling that scary smile.

“That’s it, Baby, you can do it!” Her voice is high pitched, that voice she uses when she calls him not-Carlos.

“Mommy,” the man says again, and Carlos feels the way his lips move under his hand.

He brings his fingers up to his own mouth, tracing them over his lips and opening and closing his mouth slowly. He can tell this was important to the man, and the lady too…but he wants to do this for him. He wanted to make his eyes shiny again.

“Mmmmah!” Carlos shouts, smiling as he grabs at the man. “Mmmah!”

The man laughs at that, reaching back and tickling Carlos until he squeals. “Silly Carlos,” the man mumbles. “I’m not Mommy, I’m…”

The lady makes a weird noise, and Carlos jerks, clumsily folding himself over in an instinctive duck. But the hurt isn’t at him, it’s at the man, who ducks too as something breaks over his head. And then suddenly the lady is coming at him, and he feels tight hands around his body, pressing too hard and…and…and there’s no more ground, only air, and he’s being pressed against something and the lady is screaming screaming screaming!

“He’s my Baby! He’s my Baby, hesminehesminehesmine!”

The man doesn’t come back for ages and ages. Carlos cries for him, even though it makes the scary lady mad. She doesn’t talk nice to him at all, not even to call him Ceran. She talks nice to Baby, but Carlos doesn’t know who that is, either. He wants Mommy, but the man isn’t there, and every time Carlos cries for him, the lady comes instead.

She doesn’t like it when he cries. It always hurts when she comes; hurts worse than the last time the man had been there, and he had been squeezed so tight and it hurt a lot. The lady makes it hurt, so Carlos learns to stop crying. He doesn’t like the hurt, but what really stops him is the realization that the man really isn’t Mommy…it’s the scary lady.

“Why does he keep doing that?”

The man is back, and Carlos had almost flown he’d scrambled over to him so fast, pressing himself into his legs and soaking in his warmness. The scary lady- he refused to call her Mommy, because she wasn’t, she wasn’t! - was sitting in her chair by the window, and there was smoke all around her. Carlos shivers, holding the man tighter and mumbling “Mmah” at him with each big step into the room.

“Doing what, Ella?”

The man’s voice doesn’t sound right. It’s not bad or mean or scary like the lady, but it’s not nice, which is what it’s supposed to be.

“Well, two things, for one….”

“Yes?”

“He keeps calling you ‘Mommy.’”

“And I am truly honored to bear the title. Really, I’m speechless.”

There’s something hard and sharp in the man’s voice, and Carlos flinches, whimpering softly. He can’t press himself into the man any more than he already is; so close that he can feel all the words vibrating in his chest.

“The other,” and the lady’s voice is even harder and sharper, the smoke so thick that Carlos thinks it’s going to fill him up and make him explode. “He keeps repeating the ‘M’…it doesn’t come out right.”

The man makes a big breath, and Carlos floats on the breath with him, his whole body lifting up and down. It almost makes him laugh, but then he remembers the lady is still there, and she doesn’t like him laughing. Doesn’t like him crying, or talking, much, either.

“He’s still a baby. It’s not surprising the words aren’t perfect yet.”

“He’s not Baby, Baby is right….”

“Ella, remember? Carlos?”

“I know my own child! He just doesn’t know me….”

Chad

Five minutes into detention, and Chad is already done with it all. He’s sitting in the back of the classroom, tucked into a corner as far away as possible from the two…freaks sitting in the front row. Fairy Godmother had started to open up the detention; talking about how it was for everyone’s ‘mutual benefit’ and explaining what the detentions would cover. And then she’d been ‘called away,’ and had left the classroom.

That was six minutes ago, and Chad can see the not-to-subtle ploy for what it is. Just some weird attempt to make them work together. But he wasn’t about to get sucked into that. Bad enough that he even had to go to these stupid detentions. But he didn’t plan on doing any more than what he had to get through this, seeing as he hadn’t done anything wrong.

His parents had differing opinions on that matter. He’d received two separate letters from them, which was almost a first for his family. His father considered it an outrage; a slander against the Charming family name, to be so insulted and humiliated and accused of villainy! His mother, on the other hand, thought that the whole situation could have been avoided if Chad had thought instead of acted. She insisted that while the ‘villains’ had been wrong to react the way they had, it was because of Chad’s actions that the event had occurred at all. (She had also insisted on calling them ‘children’ which had only served to further irritate Chad. They weren’t children, they were villains.)

She told him to remember her story, and how she forgave her stepfamily despite how terrible they were, and that in the end, her kindness was enough to guide Anastasia to kindness as well. Chad would have liked to point out that Aunt Anastasia been mostly controlled by Lady Tremaine, and that even if Aunt Anastasia had begun as evil on her own, being petty wasn’t quite the same as being truly evil and dangerous, which these two villains were. He would have liked to say all of that and more, but he couldn’t really fit it all in a letter, and he’d lost his cell phone again.

So he forces himself to bite his tongue, and glares at the back of the two freaks’ heads; glancing first from one end of the row and the white hair, to the other end and the dark hair. He wonders, only idly, if there was something going on between the two, given their massive distance between them. But it’s quickly turned to indifference. If there is, he doesn’t care. He just needs to get through this detention and get away from them.

Ten minutes, and Fairy Godmother walks back in with a smile, though Chad notes that she looks disappointed to find them all exactly as she’d left them. Chad silently congratulates himself on his correct assumption of her ‘plot,’ though he quickly reverts back to boredom as she starts the detention for real.

“Well, children, as disappointed as I am to see you all here,” she begins. “I must say, I am eager to begin this learning period.”

Fairy Godmother turns to the board and scribbles something out, while Chad rolls his eyes and scoffs. He didn’t need to learn anything. Movement from below catches his eye, and he narrows his gaze at the back of the dark head, as the other boy tries to catch de Vil’s attention. The freak wasn’t even looking in Jay’s direction, his eyes locked on his desk.

‘Trouble in paradise,’ Chad thinks snidely, but then it occurs to him that he could totally use this to his advantage, and he straightens in his seat, suddenly interested in detention after all.

“I am going to teach you several things,” Fairy Godmother intones from the front of the class. “But if there’s one thing I want to teach you, it’s this: the emotions that you feel are ok to feel.”

Oh great, she was going with the ‘feelings’ thing. Chad sinks in his seat, abandoning his intense scrutiny of the villains in an attempt to focus on ignoring the old fairy. He thought about the other half of the villain quartet, trying to figure out what to do with them. Unlike de Vil, it didn’t seem like there was anything particularly freakish about the two girls. The Evil Queen’s daughter was actually almost smart, half the time. Even Maleficent 2.0 was kind of normal, he guessed. But it didn’t help him any, not with how close the girls seemed to be to the opposite side of their group.

“Even anger,” Fairy Godmother was saying, and despite Chad’s attempts, he couldn’t completely drown her out with his own thoughts. “That is something I want to impress upon you children. Anger is normal, and it is ok for you to feel angry when things upset you. It’s how you deal with those feelings that is important. Acting upon those feelings, is when things tilt towards the negative.”

Chad finds himself unable to make eye contact with Fairy Godmother, as she glances up at them. He glances down to see de Vil has turned towards the wall, and is giving Chad a sideways look out of the corner of his eye. It’s enough to drive away any of Chad’s twisted sense of guilt or regret, and he straightens, shooting the freak a challenging glare of his own; setting his sharp features to appear even sharper.

It works, as he knew it would, and the freak looks away quickly, back at the chalkboard. Jay notices, unfortunately, and goes so far as to twist in his seat to glare at Chad; and the young Charming recalls that fight on the green, and that he doesn’t want a repeat.

“This is precisely what I mean,” Fairy Godmother sighs. “You need to learn how to relieve yourselves of your feelings in a way that does not lead to negative actions.”

Clearly, it’s too late for that, but the Fairy Godmother doesn’t seem to agree with Chad’s cynicism.

“Now, the key to all of this,” Fairy Godmother states. “Lies in acknowledging each other as fellow human beings; and that goes for everyone. In any given situation, it is crucial that you always remember that.”

Chad rolls his eyes, thinking that she wouldn’t say that if she knew the truth about the two ‘fellow human beings’ below him. They were villains; the worst of the worst and the lowest of the low. If they truly were ‘human’ and deserving of that recognition and treatment, they wouldn’t have been on that Isle to begin with.

That thought jolts Chad, and for a moment, he pauses. There was something…not right with that, but he couldn’t think of what. His mother- his Aunt Anastasia. If she hadn’t been so nice, would she have been on that Isle too? Declared a villain and therefore, not a human being? It terrifies him, that thought, because he knows that it’s important; that there’s something more there that he’s missing.

Then he looks back down at the two villains, and he remembers the fight; Emil’s dislocated shoulder, and Kory; who’d dodged the knife but not Jay’s fists and wound up with a broken nose and a several bruised ribs. He remembers the dark and wild look in de Vil’s eyes, and the way Jay had been smiling the entire time he beat Kory into the ground.

And he knows that that is what’s real here, not whatever sentiment Fairy Godmother believed. They weren’t decent human beings, and Chad wasn’t about to let himself forget that. They were villains, and he’d make sure they got the treatment they deserved. Because that’s what hero’s did, didn’t they?

 Carlos

“Some joke, huh?”

I’m ignoring you, Carlos thinks, staring solidly ahead.

“I mean, really, ‘talking out your feelings?’ Bet you if she tried that on the Isle, all that’d be left of her is a pile of pixie dust.”

I’m ignoring you.

“Heh, probably not even that; since CJ and crew would start a war to see who’d get the dust.”

Carlos draws a slow breath, his hands in fists as he fights the urge to drive it through Jay’s face. The only thing that stops him is the knowledge that someone else had already done that, and going by the rather larger bruise across the other boy’s jaw, that other person had been Mal. He tries to imagine the fight, but he’s too irritated by Jay’s presence to feel any sort of amusement or gratefulness. She obviously didn’t do it for Carlos, but still, it’s the thought that counts. Namely, his.

“Listen, about the library….”

Carlos lifts his chin and tightens his expression, lengthening his stride so he’s several feet away. He doesn’t care about how sorry Jay is, and he definitely doesn’t need any reminders about that…thing, and it’s only slightly less evil handlers.

“Carlos, please, just listen!”

What part of I’m ignoring you don’t you get?

But he stops anyway, crossing his arms tightly over his chest to further emphasize his stance on the matter. There’s a slight crunch of grass behind him, and Carlos stiffens and moves away again, stopping only when he’s sure Jay won’t try and get closer. He can hear the short sigh from Jay, and Carlos feels a stronger flicker of irritation. If anyone had the right to be frustrated, it wasn’t Jay!

“I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be, but you can’t just shut me out like this.”

Can’t I? I was doing a pretty good job until now.

“Just-just tell me what to do. I don’t…want to lose…you.”

Well. That’s new. I think he’s actually sorry…he should be.

“Carlos, please.”

Carlos swallows, and it’s harder than it should be, and carries the sharp taste of salt. He blinks, and then does it again, cursing himself for giving in to weakness so easily.

“Wh-what do you want me to ssay?” he asks, and is relieved that at least his voice is still cold, despite the tripping of his tongue.

“That it’s ok,” Jay murmurs, his voice painfully soft. “That we’re ok.”

“We’re nnnot,” Carlos bites out, and the salt is gone from his mouth, gone from his eyes, as anger rushes back into place. “You…” he cuts himself off, grimacing as his voice fails him.

He spins sharply on his heel and signs instead, his hands reflecting his emotions with their jerky rapid movement. He points to Jay before bringing his left hand up and just to the side of his body; opening his hand in a sort of ‘mouth’ shape before closing it in a sharp motion.

[You left.]

Jay’s face twists, and Carlos grits his jaw even tighter. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to be here and dealing with these…feelings. If Jay started breaking down, Carlos would end him.

“I didn’t,” the other boy tries, but Carlos curls a lip at him fiercely. “Carlos, I didn’t leave. Mal…I was kicked out.”

Carlos presses the air out between his lips as he rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he signs; bringing up his right hand in an upraised palm, he then slides the tips of the fingers on his left hand against it in a short, double motion before signing again; pointing again at Jay before touching the tips of his fingers to his temple.

[Excuses. You know that.]

“Carlos,” Jay begins, but Carlos shakes his head sharply, cutting him off as he repeats his first sign.

[You left.]

“You’re right,” Jay says, looking away. “I did. I left and I’m sorry.”

Carlos wants to believe it, wants to trust that Jay really is sorry and that he’ll come back and never leave. But he’d been down that road before, had had someone once who’d been there for him and was safe, like Jay was safe. Like he had been. He knows what will happen if he gives in, and he can’t let that happen. Not again.

He shakes his head, and is about to turn his back on Jay when a voice calls out behind him.

“Hey look, it’s Tweedledee and Tweedledumb.”

Jay’s head snaps up, his eyes hard, and Carlos turns sharply on his heel to see Chad striding down the hall towards them, leading a slightly larger group than before. Carlos grits his teeth and growls a warning, while Jay fires off a retort behind him.

“Hey look, a fairy! Quick, think happy thoughts!”

Carlos can practically feel Jay’s challenging grin, and he can’t help but chuckle a bit as Chad reddens in obvious discomfort. Then the other boy recovers, and his sneer is almost as powerful as Carlos’ own.

“I doubt you freaks even have any happy thoughts to think.”

Carlos senses Jay stiffen at that, but he pauses, only slightly taken aback. He could remember, actually, a very happy thought. But it existed only as that, a vague sort of feeling of happy. And…a voice. A happy voice, saying something.

“I bet I can make some new ones.”

That’s Jay, Carlos recognizes, striding forward with his fists clenched and all set to follow through with his threat. But Carlos knew these odds, had faced these and worse single handed on the Isle, and even then he’d barely made it, even with his knife. Now, without his knife, and with only Jay as an obligated kind of back up; against one…two…at least six older, stronger, and taller boys. (He hadn’t counted Chad. He couldn’t count Chad; the other boy barely counted for himself.)

But this wasn’t going to end anywhere near as well as the first one, and Carlos wasn’t going to give Chad the satisfaction of more villainous behavior. Not if he could avoid it, which, according to Fairy Godmother, he could. Maybe.

“Sstop.”

His demand stopped only Jay, but it was enough to make the other boys hesitate, if only for a moment. What had Fairy Godmother said? Steps to avoiding confrontations…aside from stupid ‘human beings’ bit, she’d actually had some solid advice. Not that it was much different from what Carlos had done back on the Isle. Finding common ground, talking things out, providing some kind of distraction to just slip away.

That had been her big thing. ‘You can always just walk away,’ and if things still got bad, then find her or some other authoritative figure. Not that authority figured had even done him much good, but it was better than nothing, which was they had.

“Look, Ch-chad,” Carlos continues, keeping his voice low but calm. “I get tha-tha-that you hate mme; I’m nnot feeling friendly, either, tru-trust me. But wwhat does this g-get us?”

“Oh hey, the freak fancies himself a negotiator now,” Chad snickers. “Don’t tell me you actually took Fairy Godmother’s words to heart? That’s pathetic, even for you.”

“Carlos, what the hell?” Jay hisses, but Chad has cocked his head a few feet down the hall, his lips pursed in an exaggerated frown.

“I like to think I take after my father when it comes to this sort of thing,” the boy says, his voice smooth as calm. “Charming, fair, but reasonable enough not to be taken advantage of.”

Jay mutters something under his breath that Carlos doesn’t catch and doesn’t try to. He focuses on Chad, hoping that this will work. This was Auradon; talking things out was their thing! Just talk it out, why fight when you could talk?

“Just try talking to him…”

“What good will that do…?”

“It’ll help…if he hears…something nice….”

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Chad says, and Carlos blinks, looking up sharply from the void of memory. That voice…who?

“I’m thinking,” the self-proclaimed ‘charmer’ continues. “You two had a pretty unfair advantage with your weapons and all. You caused a lot of damage, especially to Emil and Kory: broken ribs, broken nose, not to mention the knife….”

Chad’s face twists into an exaggerated grimace, and Jay tightens his fists.

“You see what I’m getting at,” Chad murmurs quietly. “It’s only fair; after all an eye for an eye?”

Shit. Carlos realizes a second too late that while Chad had been talking, the other boys with him had slipped along the hall separating them, and had effectively cut them off from the back. The whole fucking thing had been a trap!

“Sshould have sseen it,” Carlos hisses under his breath, mostly berating himself, but also despising Chad that much more.

Jay throws an elbow into the gut of the idiot that tries to grab him, spinning around and kicking a second away, then following that up with another punch to the first. Carlos ducks under grabbing hands, keeping his arms close to his body and fists up in defensive position as he dodges. That was all he could do in this fight, was play defense and try to calculate escape routes. He should never have gotten them into this in the first place! How could he have been so stupid as to actually try and talk? All because of a stupid memory?

Then Jay cries out behind him, and Carlos whips around in slow motion, his heart seizing in his chest because Jay never…he wouldn’t have, unless he’d been really hurt. The adrenaline pounds through Carlos’ body, clarifying everything in painful degrees, and so he is able to watch in horrifying detail as Jay is slammed into the wall; his head striking against the false brick hard enough to make Carlos wince. Jay’s reaction is almost worse…he keeps fighting.

“Sstop!” Carlos tries to yell, but his words are lost as Jay swings a punch, which catches one boy in the face, but opens himself up to retaliation.

The counter attack comes swift and brutally, as his arm is grabbed and wrenched behind his back, twisted and then pushed. And it’s slow; they make it slow, so that Carlos can almost hear the quiet snapping, can watch Jay’s face twist further and further towards panic. And then there’s a horrifying snap-pop, and even though Jay grits his jaw, Carlos can still hear him scream.

Jay staggers, and goes down, and then all that Carlos can hear is a rhythmic, lurching sort of grunting as four of their six attackers crash over him like a wave. And then it’s just a relentless surge, an excruciating rise and fall as their feet lift and stomp, lift and stomp, swing and release to pound against Jay’s defenseless form.

Stopstopstopstopstopstop!

Carlos jerks forward, a high intense ringing in his ears, something hot and fierce burning through him and making everything blur together in a painful mash of sound. Gravity turns against him, as he’s lifted and restrained by the remaining two attackers, and it’s only once he’s in a slightly upright position that he realizes he’s out of breath; and that the ringing had been him; trying and failing not to scream.

“What's wrong, freak? Scared without your dog to protect you?”

Chad’s voice sends a stab of cold clarity through him, and Carlos straightens in the grip of the two boys, his own voice hard despite the pain and fear.

“And they ssay I’m a so-sociopath,” he mutters darkly, but Chad just laughs, and somewhere behind him, Jay lets out another muffled cry that chokes off too soon, that sets Carlos to struggling all over again.

“Why don’t you just run back to Mommy? I’m sure she’ll kiss it and make it all better.”

In hindsight, Carlos could look back and say that he had only been reacting on an instinct, that he’d been certain that Jay was dead and that he had every right to do as he had. But what really occurs to Carlos in the moment -as he skips the warning growl and goes straight for the snarl- is regret that he hadn’t gotten to fully enjoy the look of terror and confusion on Chad’s face as he bites out:

“Nnot even c-lose, asshole.”

Then that thin something holding him together snaps, and all he registers is a very satisfying scream before he’s struck hard across the face. A warm rush of pain, a sticky, metal taste in his mouth, and then. Dark. Just dark.

Chapter Text

Jay

“…almost completely…”

Wha…? What was…?

“Never seen…like this…”

Something’s…wrong. He can’t….

“Even older…going to need to be….”

He can’t move. He can’t move! Why can’t he…?

“Sedated…those ribs….”

Something wrong with his head…something fuzzy…blurry.

“…need a count?”

And pain…maybe. Something hurts…something’s missing?

“…two…one…”

He’s pretty sure he’s dead, but there’s too much everything for that; too much buzzing and flashing and colors, and death was supposed to be a quiet, endless void. This place was anything but quiet, and Jay feels his face twist as his eyes flicker open. He’s hit with a sharp and violent burst of light that makes him gasp, which then makes him scream, but he doesn’t have enough air and there’s something wrong with his chest.

“Easy…sit back.”

The voice comes from nowhere, and it’s so loud in his ears that Jay flinches, but his body doesn’t move the way he wants it to. He ends up lurching too far, and the solidness beneath him is gone in a sudden rush of air. He braces himself for the impact, but it doesn’t come; instead there’s hands all over his body, pressing into his skin and lifting him back up.

“Just take it slow,” that voice comes again, firm but…gentle? “You took quite the beating young man.”

Please, Jay thinks. This doesn’t even come close to the worst I’ve had.

He realizes only belatedly that he’d said that last part out loud, as the voice lets out a soft, choking kind of sound. He tries opening his eyes again, but all he gets is a blurred impression of pink and green and blue, and he gives up, settling back against the solid thing with a groan.

“Where’m I?” He manages, wincing as his words echo painfully in his skull. “Where’s…Carlos!”

Shit shit fuck shit!

He jerks himself upright and ignores the pain this time, his eyes flying open and taking in everything at once; the room a stark white that directly contrasts the blue, pink and green blurs in front of him. The room is small, and there’s a burning, acid sharp smell in the air, that sets off some deep, instinctive part of Jay that screams danger! Something is beeping close to his ear, high and frantic, but even that doesn’t match the racing of his heart as he tries not to panic.

“Alright now, let’s not do anything rash,” the closest blur says, and Jay whips around, lashing out blindly and not caring what he hits.

He hits nothing, as it turns out, and is instead grabbed and pushed back down. He thrashes wildly, and only then does that pain catch up to him, sharp and intense as it stabs through his chest, and Jay can’t help the gasp that slips past his lips. He clenches his jaw, biting off the sound, but it still gets through, and he grimaces despite himself.

“See, that’s why you shouldn’t….”

“Where’s. Carlos.” Jay growls out through his teeth, glaring unsteadily at the two colors restraining him; the blue and the green.

“He’s in the other room,” the other color says, and Jay picks up on the hesitation in her voice; the fear and tight worry.

Jay draws a quick breath, but it’s stopped short by the pain, and he fights to keep himself calm and not attempt another escape until he knows what’s going on.

“Where am I?” he asks again, leveling the pink clad- woman, he realizes at another glance- with a glare that would rival even Mal’s.

“You’re in the infirmary,” she says, her lips pursing at his glare, but her own expression still calm and unwavering.

Jay feels a flicker of respect for the woman, noting that she’s not easily intimidated and deciding that she could just be worth his time.

“Ok,” he says, and he turns his glare to the blue -also a woman. He was sensing a weird pattern here… “And what is that? Why am I here?”

The blue woman’s eyes widen at his look, and she shivers before she can really stop herself. She straightens after a moment though, and manages to keep her voice from shaking as she answers.

“It's like a miniature hospital,” she says quietly.

“Ok,” Jay drawls slowly, mentally cataloguing her as weak, but mildly competent. “What's a hospital?”

It's the blue one that he asks this, and she flushes in something like indignation before she catches his eyes and goes pale, sputtering nonsense as she ducks to hide behind the green clad woman.
Jay narrows his eyes at that, instantly dismissing the blue one. Weak, pathetic, can't even stand her ground. Not even worth further attention.

“A hospital is where people go when they're seriously hurt; to be taken care of,” the pink one explains, and though her voice is still patient, she casts a brief glare of her own at the blue woman, and Jay feels even more respect for her.

He ponders her description of hospitals and infirmaries, thinking that it was no wonder he'd never heard of it. The closest thing to a doctor they'd had on the Isle was Dr. Facilier, and no one was that desperate, let alone that weak to admit a need for any kind of ‘care.’ Then it occurs to him that she'd said “seriously hurt,” and he struggles to sit up again as the full implication hits him.

“Carlos,” Jay presses, as soon as he's relatively upright. “Where is he? What...what's wrong?”

The three women all exchange glances, and Jay bites his lip to keep from shouting at them. The pink woman answers him again, her voice still that patient calm, but Jay can hear the wariness in her tone, and it sets him on edge.

“He's in the other room, dear, like I told you. He's not hurt, and you're both safe here.”

Jay doesn't believe that for a second, and he levels the woman with another glare. “I need to see him.” It's not a request.

“The only ones allowed to be with him right now are the other staff, and Fairy Godmother.”

It's the green one who answers, hesitant but firm.

“And anyway,” she continues. “You should be more concerned with yourself; you suffered severe injuries.”

He would, he totally would be self-absorbed under any other circumstance. But this; surrounded by strange people in a strange place that was meant to treat people who were a lot weaker than Jay; hurt and separated from Carlos; it was a nightmare come to life.

“You don't understand,” Jay tries to retort, but the pink woman adopts a stern expression and glares at him so fiercely he's taken aback.

“No, you don't understand,” she scolds him sharply. “You have no less than 2 broken ribs as well as heavy bruising; suffered a severe dislocated shoulder; multiple blows to the spine and chest which could very nearly have killed you if it had persisted long enough; not to mention a grade 3 concussion!”

She finishes her tirade with an empathetic huff, crossing her arms to complete the effect.

“Impressive,” Jay deadpans, not even blinking despite the fact that he couldn't even remember any of that. “If that's all, I'd like to go and see Carlos now.”

Ben

Re: the list of unforeseen consequences and complications that came with bringing the children of villains into Auradon. Ben anxiously waits in the hallway, pacing back and forth the few short paces between two of the infirmary doors. Behind them, the main causes of his list; Carlos and Jay.

“You should sit,” Audrey’s voice says behind him, quiet and equally anxious.

“I can’t just sit and do nothing,” Ben argues, continuing his pacing.

“It’s not doing nothing,” Audrey states. “It’s waiting patiently for news.”

What more news they need is anyone’s guess, Ben thinks, glaring at the doors as though willing them to open. He already knew far more than he’d ever wanted to. One fight apparently hadn’t been enough, and Jay and Carlos had viciously assaulted Chad and six other members of the tourney team. They seven helpless victims had barely escaped with their lives.
Or, so it was according to Chad.

The facts were a bit skewed, with no one yet being able to ask Jay or Carlos what happened from their view -not that anyone was willing to do that. Because, of course, how could anyone trust a villain to tell the truth? Especially when said villain had already previously attacked? What was known, was that Jay had been severely hurt; enough to warrant the infirmary visit, and that Carlos…Carlos was being evaluated for signs of mental illness, and there was talk about sending him back to the Isle.

“They can’t do it, Audrey,” Ben murmurs, tugging frantically at his hair as he whips around to face her. “They can’t send him back.”

Audrey says nothing for a moment, pursing her lips and giving him ‘that look,’ and Ben shakes his head sharply, turning around again.

“I know you don’t want to consider it, Ben,” she says gently. “But you did really rush into this; and if things have already escalated this much…you have to think about what’s best for everyone involved. That includes the rest of Auradon.”

Ben doesn’t even have the words to accurately express just how not ok that was with him, and he’s just beginning to try when rapid footsteps come rushing down the hallway towards them.

“Ben!”

Ben feels a sinking jolt in his stomach, but he turns slowly towards the voice, and is immediately tackled in a fierce hug by his mother.

“Oh, thank Goodness,” she gasps, pulling away to cup his face with her hands before squeezing him again, “I was afraid we wouldn’t get here fast enough. Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Ben manages, but his assurances fall flat as he catches his father’s eye over his mother’s shoulder.

“Ben,” his dad says stiffly, and Ben winces at the tone as he pulls away from his mom’s grip.

“Hey, Dad,” he says weakly, barely able to complete his shy wave.

“Are you satisfied now?” his dad asks darkly as he approaches, causing Ben to take a half-step backwards. “Now that you’ve seen what your proclamation has brought?”

“Adam,” his mom chides sternly, but even she can’t seem to fully disagree.

Behind him, he can hear Audrey rising from her chair and move closer to him, but Ben is focusing on trying to maintain his own composure. He draws a steadying breath that shakes too much to accomplish its purpose, and manages to look his father in the eye as he speaks.

“I think, until we know all of the facts, that it’s unfair to make any assumptions.”

“Unfair?” his dad retorts sharply, and Ben sees him mom stride quickly forward and place a hand on his arm. “Do you think those villains of yours cared about being fair when they attacked Chad and other students? Would you say that letting them remain here a moment longer is fair?”

“I think,” Ben says slowly. “That if Jay and Carlos had truly attached Chad and six strong, athletic members of the Tourney team, then it would be them in the infirmary. And yet, they weren’t the ones with broken bones and concussions.”

Ben watches his dad pause at that, something resembling confusion flickering across his face. “Six?”

Ben nods once, and his mom gives a quiet soft gasp, while his dad hesitates another moment.

“Fairy Godmother is with Carlos now,” Ben murmurs. “Until we know what she finds out, we can’t make any judgements.”

“We shall see about that,” his dad rumbles, but he crosses to the row of chairs against wall and sits down; glaring at the door opposite.

Yeah, Ben thinks wearily, exchanging a glance with Audrey. We will.

Carlos

Everything is dark when he wakes up, but that’s ok. He knows how to deal with the dark. He takes a slow and shallow breath, trying not to reveal his state of awareness until he knows exactly what he’s dealing with. He reaches out with his senses, carefully probing at his surroundings. He decided to go with smell first, and continues his shallow breathing. There’s something painfully sharp soaking the air, and he recognizes the smell; it’s something he himself had used on various creative and mischievous ways on the Isle. So, he was either in some kind of factory, or a hospital; and judging by the fact that he was definitely lying on a bed of sorts, he’d wager it was the latter. It wasn’t much more comforting.

Touch next, since he’d already felt the bed. It’s firm, and not at all soft and form absorbing like the bed in his dorm room. He didn’t risk openly moving his hands in any way, but he guessed that it must be pretty small and have a railing keeping him in, since he couldn’t move his body. There wasn’t much to taste, so he guesses he’ll try….

“Ca…hear me?”

Carlos prides himself on only jumping a little bit, and blinks slowly up at the blurred face above him. It’s a stupid question, he thinks. He can hear everything just fine, way too fine, and it’s way…too…loud. He’s not worried hearing; it’s the fact that he can’t move or breathe that concerns him.

“It’s alright Carlos,” the voice says again, and he realizes that it must be Fairy Godmother given its absurd optimism. “You’re in the infirmary. We’re just making sure you’re ok.”

Carlos narrows his eyes at her, working his mouth in an attempt to speak, since he clearly wouldn’t be able to sign his response. But something is wrong with his face; something was keeping him from talking. He draws a sharp breath that catches halfway, and something high beeps in his ear, making him flinch.

“Take deep breaths, Carlos,” Fairy Godmother instructs lowly. “You’re setting off the machine.”

He blinks again at that, instantly alert and wary. He was being controlled by a machine? If he was really in some kind of hospital infirmary, they only attached you to a machine when there was something really wrong with you. What had happened? All he could remember was Chad…he’d done something to Chad. But that was only because….

“Jay!”

The word comes out too high and muffled, but Carlos struggles on anyway, fighting the invisible force that kept him from fully sitting up.

“Wwhere’s Jay?”

He pushes harder, but the force pushes back, shoving him back down onto the firm surface he lay on.

“It’s alright!” Fairy Godmother cries, and Carlos levels her with the fiercest glare he can muster despite the fear threatening to choke off what little breath he had. “Jay is just in the other room, and you’re both safe here.”

“Why can’t I m-m-ove?” Carlos retorts, managing another shaky breath.

“Just a precaution, dear,” she murmurs, and her tone instantly makes him tense and suspicious. “It’s for your safety, more than anything, nothing to wor--”

“Wwhy. Can’t. I. Move?” Carlos repeats stiffly, struggling against the rising pressure; this one building within him.

Fairy Godmother purses her lips, a visible flicker of hesitation in her eyes as she answers. “We…we decided to restrain you.”

Two things occur to Carlos, in the gaping pit of fear that her words bring. One; ‘we,’ meaning that there was more than just her making decisions about him, and two; the sinking realization that she had betrayed him- which was ridiculous because that would imply that he had placed some kind of trust in her, and he knew better, he knew he shouldn’t have…rule number one, trust no one trust no trust no…air….

“…los?”

He jerks sharply, suddenly feeling the heavy trembling in his arms and legs. He tries to get his breathing back under control, to wipe his face of all emotions. He only succeeds in the latter, but he’s relieved to have managed that much; keeping his mask in place while he slowly broke apart inside. The frantic beeping rose in time with his heart; a high staccato: beep-beep beep-beep beep¬-beep!
Then suddenly his face is clear, the heavy force diminishing enough for him to breath, and he almost sobs in relief before he can stop himself. Instead, his face twitches as he heaves silent, heavy breaths, and he blinks back the pain as Fairy Godmother comes into focus above him.

“Carlos? Can you hear me?”
He gives her a short nod as he slips back into his mask, his features arranging themselves into a hard, neutral expression.

“Can…can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Oh, I th-ink I was just having a pa-pa-nic attack,” he replies calmly, his voice as hard and blank as his face.

It’s the Fairy Godmother’s turn to blink, and he almost breaks his mask to smirk at her, but he keeps himself under control this time as she splutters in shock.

“Oh my…” she gasps, bringing a hand halfway up to her mouth. “Are you alright? What can I do?”

“Per-perfectly alright,” Carlos deadpans, restraining himself from something far more biting than that. “If you could tell me, thhough, why am I in the infir-infirmary? That wwould be great.”

Mal

“So, just to be clear, I’m totally going to murder him.”

“No, sorry,” Evie’s voice is a clipped breath in her ear, and only slightly winded from the running. “You’ll have to get in line and revive him before you kill him…after me, of course.”

“Just promise I’ll have something left to kill, and I’ll be fine,” Mal tosses back, and Evie gives a grim sounding laugh.

“I make no such promises, whatsoever,” she responds, and Mal almost lets herself smile before she remembers the pressing matter at hand.

The daughter of the Mistress of All Evil, currently racing next to the next generation Evil Queen, ignoring all outside influences as they pushed to be the first to reach their destination. It was just like old times; if those times included being trapped in a foreign country and given no instructions or materials for survival; being persecuted by the natives for said lack of survival, thus leading to such extremes as....

“Remind me, E,” Mal huffs shortly as they whip around a corner, their destination rapidly approaching up ahead. “What would attempted murder get you on the Isle? Just so I have a reference for what to expect by Auradon standards.”

“Well if you succeeded in your attempt, there’d definitely be some kind of reward, and massive respect earned for you and your associates,” Evie reports dutifully, not missing a beat. “Even if you failed, they’d still appreciate the attempt, though you’d probably get some nasty looks from the view who think that ‘attempt’ is also failure.”

“Close enough,” Mal muses, more to herself than to the other girl. She’d guess then, by Auradon standards, being banished from the kingdom might be a given response. That is, if she and Evie didn’t get there first.

“Up ahead,” Evie warns, her voice sharp and tense, and Mal slows her pace to a less desperate rush, every muscle tight with anticipation.

She’s reminded of a very particular night, suddenly; only instead of Evie creeping beside her, it had been Jay. Mal shakes the thought from her head, forcing her mind to ignore the similarities and focus on whatever threat might be ahead. It becomes clear to her after a moment of listening, and she exchanges a look with Evie at the familiar voice that drifts to them.

“…just think that there’s more to this that we’re not seeing,” Ben’s voice says from ahead, and Mal stifles a groan under her breath.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” she mutters to Evie, who purses her lips tightly but doesn’t say anything. “Why is he always….?”

She cuts herself off and straightens from her crouch, so instinctive she hadn’t even thought about doing it, and decides to confront him herself. Evie hisses a warning, but Mal doesn’t even have time to process it because she’s already storming around the corner and glaring fiercely at Ben as he comes into view. It didn’t matter to her if he was a Prince or not; her group had been picked on far enough already without his interference, and she had cast aside her previous reservations about Auradon and its nature. She was ready to go full dragon and give the supposed hero a piece of her mind.

“What more is it that you’re not seeing, Ben?” Mal snaps, even before he’s fully in view. “Because it seems to me that it’s obvious what’s going on.”

“Mal,” Ben says in surprise, and he’s echoed by both Evie and another girl who’s standing just behind Ben.

Mal casts the other girl a dismissing glance, registering her as ‘not-important enough’ compared to Ben. Ben, who, for his part, manages to look appropriately guilty and startled faced with her wrath.

“I’m sorry about calling you here so abruptly,” he begins, and Mal shakes her head once, her eyes flashing as she glares at him.

“No,” she interrupts sharply. “You’re sorry, yes, but what you should be sorry for is letting this thing with Chad progress to where it’s gotten.”

“I quite agree with you on that point, young villainess,” a voice intones in a deep and stern rumble from behind her. “Although I don’t approve of your delivery.”

Mal, for her part, does not flinch at the sudden growling voice, and instead turns; quickly, but calmly, to face this new threat. She finds herself staring at a rather broad shouldered man, dressed in an expensive looking suit that was decorated with no less than six or seven badges. The man wore square, thick rimmed glasses that did nothing to stem his own fierce glare, his eyes a vaguely familiar greyish green. His hair was short and neatly combed, a shiny, sandy blond color. Mal realizes, only belatedly, that it wasn’t the light making his hair shiny, rather, it was the large and impressive golden crown sitting on his head.

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me,” Mal murmurs, her anger sinking as rapidly as it had come, and she feels more than sees Evie rushing up behind her, the other girl grabbing Mal’s hand and squeezing hard.

“Mal, Evie,” Ben says awkwardly behind her. “I’d like you guys to meet my parents; King Adam and Queen Belle. Mom, Dad; this is Mal and Evie.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Mal repeats, and Evie’s grip on her hand tightens to a near painful point.

“I can assure you that I am not kidding you,” the King intones, and this time Mal does flinch, dropping her eyes immediately as he takes a slight step forward.

“Forgive her, Your Majesties,” Evie quickly rescues, her voice soft and subdued; and Mal feels her hand bob slightly and deduces that the girl had just curtsied. “She meant no disrespect. We just…didn’t expect to run into the entire royal family. It’s an honor, truly, to meet you both!”

Mal wants to throw up, and also maybe curse someone, if the slight tingling in her fingers is any indication, but she clamps down on both of those feelings instantly. She was out of her depth here, and she was pretty sure everyone present knew it. Thank Evil that she had Evie to play princess, or else they’d be screwed. Well, more screwed than they already were.

“Oh, there’s no need for any of that,” a woman’s voice murmurs gently. “We’re pleased to meet you both. It’s a shame we aren’t meeting under more cheerful circumstances, but still. The pleasure is ours.”

Mal narrows her eyes at the ground, but doesn’t dare lift her head to face the Queen. She wasn’t sure if the woman was being sincere or patronizing, and Mal doesn’t know which is worse. There’s a beat of silence, and Mal realizes even without looking up that she’s supposed to say something here.

“Yeah,” she finally mutters, her voice hard in an attempt to hide her nerves. “It sure is a shame.”

It’s not the best thing she could have said, but it was something, at least. Mal shuffles back a step to be closer to Evie, drawing comfort from the other girl’s professional calm. She glances at Ben out of the corner of her eyes to see him shaking his head slowly, his face hidden in his hands as the other girl; Audrey, Mal thinks it is- pats his shoulder sympathetically.

“You can sit,” the Queen’s voice chimes pleasantly through the silence. “I’ve been told it could be a while.”

Mal straightens at that, all her alarm bells going off. She almost lifts her head until she remembers and jerks her gaze back down to the ground, but she still can’t keep herself from asking:
“What’s going to be a while?”

Her voice is sharp and full of warning, and Evie squeezes her hand so hard her fingers temporarily go numb.

“The nursing staff is evaluating Jay to see how bad things are and what to expect in terms of recovery.”

The answer comes from Audrey, and Mal glances over her shoulder to fix the girl with a glare.

“You’re serious?” she snaps, and Audrey blinks at her, but nods slowly.

“They obviously expect him to recover,” the girl continues nervously. “It’s just a matter of how long and if there’d be any difficulties given…given what happened.”

“And what did happen?” Evie asks this time, and Ben snaps his head up suddenly, clasping his palms together.

“Why don’t we all sit?” he suggests, in a slightly too loud, overly cheerful tone.

Mal scoffs before she can stop herself, her lips twitching as she lets Evie tug her over to a chair. They all sit; the awkward line up of Ben, then Audrey just beside. Evie sits next to the other girl, and Mal perches on the edge of her seat next to the evil princess. The King and Queen remain standing, which makes it a little easier for Mal to avoid their gazes being more at waist level now.
Evie’s question goes unanswered, and they’re left to sit in even more awkward silence, until the Queen breaks it with another one.

“How, uh, how are you liking Auradon so far?”
“The kingdom is lovely, Your Majesty,” Evie demures before Mal can even fire her retort. “It’s really an incredible experience for all of us.”

“Now who’s laying it on thick?” Mal mutters under her breath before continuing, at a normal tone, “It’s totally great; if we’re ignoring the fact that the other half of our group is currently out of commission thanks to certain members of the kingdom. Then yeah, it’s lovely.”

There’s a pained noise from Ben, which is almost drowned by Audrey’s gasp and Evie’s indignant: “Mal!”

“What?” Mal retorts in a sharp undertone. “I’m supposed to lie and pretend that this isn’t happening? Just to be ‘polite?’ No,” she shakes her head fiercely. “I’m not doing that.”

“Those are bold words, young villainess,” the King’s voice says quietly, and Mal’s lips twist further into a bitter sneer.

“Ah, and we can’t forget that,” she adds, though she’s sure to keep her eyes lowered as she nods her head in his direction. “Can’t forget the most important thing here is that we’re all evil villains, and that somehow we should be grateful to be in the presence of heroes; should consider ourselves lucky to have been brought out of the pit.”

“Mal, please,” Evie whimpers, and the fear in the other girl’s voice cuts through Mal’s bitter sarcasm.

“Sorry,” she says, the only part of her sincerity being directed at Evie. “I did try and warn you. I’m not good at this stuff, I just keep us alive.”

No one says anything after that, not for a while, at least. Mal is relieved to have managed that much, despite the fact that it was incredibly risky for her to have said even half of what she had. The silence drags on to an almost unbearable point, and Mal is all set to try and blast the door down with her sparks when the Queen whispers:

“Is…is there anything about Auradon that you do like?”

Both Evie and Audrey draw sharp breaths, while Ben just groans, and Mal hears a thump that is definitely his head hitting the wall as he grumbles out:

“Mom please stop trying to make this better; you’re not making this better!”

Mal gives it some thought, and decides on the safest answer; that is, the one that would least likely upset Evie.

“The food’s good,” she mutters in grudging honesty. “I mean, it’s better than nothing, so yeah…you got that going for you.”

The questions stop indefinitely, after that.

Fairy Godmother

Despite her reputation as the caring mother archetype, Fairy Godmother secretly hates parent-teacher meetings. She missed the freedom of simply being able to grant her children their heart’s desire; to help without having to worry about being regulated and forced to align with codes that would hinder her goals, rather than achieve them. She’d managed so far, but she was certain that this meeting, in particular, would go down in her list as the worst.
She pushes open the door to the small conference room just off of the infirmary, slipping a smile onto her face moments before those gathered explode.

“What’s the news?”

“I want…!”

“Clearly this proves that they’re dangerous and shouldn’t….”

“It proves that one is dangerous, any way….”

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe that!”

“Fairy Godmother, what do you know?”

She takes that as her cue, and clears her throat softly as the attention in the room shifts to her. “This is what we currently know, and these are the facts. There is no bias of information; this is simply what we know as we know it.”

She makes sure to state that as firmly as possible, just to be sure, and when she receives no further opposition, she continues.

“The young villain known as Jay, the son of Jafar, is currently in the infirmary with severe injuries. These injuries are as such: two broken ribs, severe bruising, a dislocated shoulder, and a severe concussion.”
She pauses, and waits for the reactions to subside before continuing again, forcing her voice to remain calm and unaffected.

“He is expected to make a full recovery, although it has been drawn to our attention that this is not, in fact, the first time he had been hurt in this way.”

“What do you mean by that, Fairy Godmother?”

Queen Belle’s voice is soft and full of worry, and even King Adam leans forward; although Fairy Godmother is sure he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“There are several underlying injuries that will make his recovery a challenge,” she explains slowly, unable to keep the slight grimace off her face. “Broken bones that didn’t heal right; some even going back to the developmental stage.”

“Meaning?” King Adam presses, his brow furrowed in confusion and impatience.

“Let me put it this way,” Fairy Godmother states. “If Jay had been playing Tourney for the beginning of his life, then these are the type of injuries we'd expect to see. Given that no thing exists on the Isle, and the condition all of the children arrived in to begin with...well, we can conclude that life on the Isle is...harsher than we thought.”

“Do villains love their kids,” Queen Belle murmurs under her breath, and Fairy Godmother starts, taken aback.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”

The Queen lifts her eyes, seeming to not realize she’d spoken aloud.

“It was something Ben asked me, when we spoke last night. He wondered if villains...if they loved their children. I said,” her voice broke, a quiet sob slipping past her lips. “I said that I was sure that they did, in their own ways. I suppose we can see in just what ways!”

She finishes with another soft cry, which is promptly muffled as King Adam draws her into his arms. He attempts to appear stern and aloof, but Fairy Godmother can see that he's just as unsettled by the news.

“Do we have any proof of this?” He asks in a low voice, and Fairy Godmother purses her lips.

“Nothing definitive,” she shakes her head sadly. “We have no confirmed proof; no testimony from the children themselves, and so we can't say for sure if it really is...well.”

She cuts herself of, unable to even think the words, let alone speak them. The few other faculty members in the room; the ones who had had the most contact with the villain children thus far, are silent as well, although it's broken with a tense huff from a corner of the room.

“What does any of this have to do with the situation at hand?”

Benjamin Kropp’s voice is gruff, but he softens slightly when Fairy Godmother turns to him.

“I mean, how does this affect what those two have done?”

It’s a fair question, and Fairy Godmother knows she can't be seen to take sides. But if it were up to her she'd say that it had everything and more to do with the situation, and what did fighting matter when there were children's lives at stake? But she forces herself to remain calm as she answers.

“It may not affect things directly, but it does give an idea of just where it came from.”

“In what way?”

Louis Deley’s voice is his usual calm drawl, though he, too is not as unaffected as he appears.

“We must bear in mind,” Fairy Godmother insists. “Regardless of...potential circumstances...these children grew up in a dangerous world, surrounded by dangerous people. Now, I’m not saying that makes them the same by default, but if the only way they knew how to live was by violence; then how can we expect them to behave any differently to a perceived threat, simply because we've changed their location?”

“You forget, however,” Kropp interjects. “These aren’t just ordinary children. They are villains by blood, regardless of location. I agree, though; how can we expect them to be anything else?”

“It’s what I tried to warn Ben about myself,” King Adam murmurs slowly. “But he insisted on his decree, and this...this is where it's gotten us.”

“Just so,” Deley begrudgingly agrees, while Kropp nods vehemently, looking strangely vindictive.

“The question is, what are we going to do about it?” Queen Belle asks, and though her voice still shakes, her eyes are sharp as she glares around the room. “Send them back to the very place that made them this way? You suggest that we give up on giving chances?”

“Of course not,” King Adam defends. “But taking chances…is it worth the risk?”

“I took the risk with you,” Queen Belle counters her husband's argument, and Fairy Godmother can't help but smile just a little.

“There will be consequences,” King Adam insists, though he has the decency to look chagrined. “If we let this go unchecked...”

“I made no such suggestion, Your Majesty,” Fairy Godmother respectfully retorts.

“But we couldn't possibly allow them to remain,” Kropp protests. “Especially not the de Vil boy; not after this!”

“After...what?”

Fairy Godmother barely stifles her sigh as she turns to answer Queen Belle’s hesitant question. She had been hoping to ease into this part of the conversation, but Kropp’s outrage had pushed them back to the start. She doesn’t manage to hide her grimace, however, and she winces her way through the report.

“As I said, we don’t have the full story, but part of the incident included Carlos…biting… another student.”

“I’m sorry…?” Queen Belle’s incredulous shock is overrun by King Adam’s bellow of outrage.

“He what!?”

Fairy Godmother grimaces again as she vainly attempts to calm the enraged monarch, all the while casting disgruntled looks in Kropp’s unhelpful direction. She really hated these meetings.

Audrey 

The hallway is too quiet with the adults meeting in the next room, but no one really wants to break that quiet with Mal and Evie still present. Lonnie and Doug had shown up about fifteen minutes ago, and although Doug had blushed furiously when he caught sight of Evie, the other girl hadn’t so much as blinked in his direction. Audrey sighs quietly, and Ben echoes her, his head still against the wall, his face pinched in an expression of obvious grief. Audrey reaches over and threads her fingers through his, and though Ben’s eyes don’t open, his face relaxes minutely.

The seconds tick by, and Audrey glances down the row of chairs to the two newest Auradon arrivals. Mal and Evie sat tense and silent in the last two chairs, Mal’s eyes hard as she glares at the door, while Evie’s eyes flicker back and forth between Mal and the empty hallway. The girls’ hands are also threaded together, though Evie looks like she’s doing most of the holding, and Audrey wonders vaguely if there might be something more between the two. The thought is an interesting one, but it’s not enough to really pull Audrey out of the dark mood that hung in the air.

She hates that this happened. While she had been the one to point out the flaws and realities of Ben’s plan, she had wanted it to work. She couldn’t help but feed into Ben’s excitement, and hope was contagious among heroes, after all. But this…now…Audrey wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t the fighting itself that made her worry- although that was still a pressing concern- it was what had caused the fights; that underlying thing that the fights had brought out.

There was a clear line being drawn, or rather, redrawn. Heroes vs. Villains. Us and Them. It was the epitome of everything they represented, and it certainly went up there on her list of the unforeseen consequences of bringing villain children to Auradon. That, and the startling implications…the instinctive feeling of not right that she got whenever she was around any of the villain kids.

One could chalk it up to the obvious reason: the daughter of the Mistress of All Evil inhabiting the same space as the daughter of Sleeping Beauty. But Audrey didn’t care about what the stories said she should feel. There had been apprehension, of course, and even now Audrey couldn’t deny that twinge of fear in the back of her mind at being so close to the daughter of her parents’ sworn enemy. But Mal wasn’t her enemy; at least, Audrey didn’t think so. She hoped not.

No, what Audrey really was nervous about was the fact that the other girl was nervous, too. It begs the question, after all. What made Mal so nervous? The child of the Mistress of All Evil; the woman who could control all the powers of Hell (supposedly; her own words); the dark fae, and one who could transform herself into a dragon. All of that and more, if the various stories were to be believed, and yet Mal was the one who was nervous!

All of the villain kids were, really. Which made Audrey wonder, just what were villains scared of? What could possibly make the children of villains…who were supposed to be just as evil and vicious as their parents…scared?

Rapid footsteps cut through Audrey’s thoughts, and she glances over in time to see Evie stiffen, and Mal stand sharply from her chair to face the threat. Because it is a threat, Audrey realizes as she watches. Everything was a threat to them.
It’s only Jane to Audrey and the rest of the Aurdadonians present, but even then, Mal doesn’t fully relax. She remains standing, and after a moment, Evie stands as well and joins Mal next to the wall.

“Jane?” Ben murmurs beside her, and he stands as well, frowning as the younger girl doubles over gasping. “Are you ok? What are you doing here?”

“I’m…I’m ok,” Jane manages shakily, though she makes sure to give Mal and Evie as wide berth as she moves to join the others on the chairs. “I was…whew, sorry! Um, I was asked to come here.”

Audrey raises her brows in surprise, while Doug and Lonnie exchange glances with Ben.

“I didn’t…” Ben begins, but then one of the infirmary doors clicks open, and out step Flo, Faun, and Merry.

“Oh Jane, good,” Flo says, obvious relief in her voice as she brushes invisible dust off her pink uniform.

“You’re here,” Faun continues. “Maybe now we can finally get somewhere.” She clasps her hands beneath her own green uniform, while Merry shakes her head.

“That boy,” she sighs, the streak of blue in her hair bouncing with her movements, her blue uniform crinkling slightly. “I don’t see how….” She’s cut off with a sharp look from Flo, and Audrey frowns in confusions.

“What boy?” Evie asks, and though her voice is polite, there’s something guarded in her eyes that sets off Audrey’s alarms all over again.

The three young women exchange nervous glances before Faun ends up answering, reluctance in her tone as she faces the other girl.

“Uh, the son of Jafar,” she mutters quietly. “If his current attitude is any indication, well, it’s a wonder he’s survived this long.”

Evie smiles softly, obvious relief flooding her expression.

Mal simply scoffs quietly and deadpans: “That’s Jay,” but Audrey can see the amusement flickering in her eyes.

“But it’s the de Vil boy,” Flo begins in a worried tone.

And it’s then that Mal’s eyes harden and…flash green?...the petite girl straightening, her lips curling in a dangerous snarl as her voice growls out:
“What about him?”

All three women flinch, and even Audrey can’t hide her own shiver. Because, with that expression, and the coldness in her voice…for that second Mal had become the villain from the stories; a reflection of Maleficent herself.

But then Audrey forces herself to really look, and she sees that even though Mal’s voice is cold, her hand is still clenched tightly in Evie’s, and the flickering in her eyes is no longer amusement. It’s fear.

“That…that’s not something we can…we can’t tell you,” Merry burst out, and the fear in Mal’s eyes flicker again before hardening into anger.

“I’m sure you could find a way to tell me,” she murmurs lowly, and even Ben recoils, Lonnie, Jane and Doug all trying their hardest to remain invisible.

Evie, for her part, whispers sharply in Mal’s ear, and the other girl…doesn’t exactly relax, but the aura of doom does rapidly diminish, allowing everyone to breathe again. If they dared.

Another door opens then; the one to the conference room, and Fairy Godmother steps out looking extremely harried and angry in turns.

“What is going on here?”

The demand comes, not from Fairy Godmother, but from King Adam, and both Mal and Evie flinch, dropping their gazes to floor. Instantly whatever threat Mal might have taken vanishes, as all attention goes to the frustrated monarch.

“I don’t recall there being this many of you before,” Queen Belle manages lightly, though she places a hand on King Adam’s arm just in case.

“We just wanted to see if everyone was ok,” Lonnie supplies, rather bravely, as she stands from her chair. “We heard about what happened, so we came to be moral support.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, dear,” Fairy Godmother says with a slight nod. “But, however well appreciated, I did say these rooms were off limits except for approved faculty.”

“Um, then am I not supposed to be here?” Jane asks nervously, and Fairy Godmother sighs in visible reluctance.

“No, dear one,” she says quietly. “You are staying.”

“W-why?” Jane is even more nervous, and Audrey feels a hint of sympathy for the youngest of their group.

“We would like to test what kind of reaction Carlos might have to someone who is non-threatening,” Fairy Godmother explains, and though she appears patient, there’s a sense of that anger underlying her words. “It would appear that you are the perfect candidate.”

“Thank. You?” Jane whispers, and Fairy Godmother sighs again, turning to face King Adam and Aurora’s fairy descendants.

“This won’t put her in danger, will it?” It’s equal parts warning and request, but it’s Jane who ends up answering.

“I’ll be fine,” she says softly, twisting her bow as she speaks. “I…I’ve met Carlos alone before.”

“Way to go, Janey,” Lonnie cheers, a mischievous glint in the older girl’s approving eye.
Jane blushes even harder than Doug, though she goes pale when she notices that all the adults present -and Mal and Evie- are staring at her in shock.

“No no no,” she instantly chokes out, shaking her head just as vehemently. “I mean, I found him in one of the forges earlier and…we just talked! It was nice,” she adds in another shy whisper.

“He can talk?” Doug asks, and Audrey remembers that Doug hadn’t gotten the memo yet.

“He can,” Mal confirms icily, and Doug lifts his hands in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture.

“Um,” Jane murmurs, glancing nervously back and forth between Mal and the adults. “What is it you want me to do?”

Fairy Godmother exchanges a look with the King and Queen, before glancing significantly at the three other fairies present. Audrey picks up on the look, as does Lonnie, and Audrey stands to join the other girl, motioning for Doug to the same.

“I can see it’s time for us to go,” Audrey defers, and though she’s disappointed, she does her best to remain polite. She blows Ben an exaggerated kiss, which he catches with a slight shake of his head and a laugh. “Keep me posted, Benny boo,” she murmurs, and he nods, suddenly serious despite the dreaded nick name.

“Benny boo?” Audrey hears Mal mutter incredulously, but Audrey’s reply is cut short by King Adam.

“Actually, Ben,” he says, quiet but firm. “I think you should….”

“No, he should stay,” Queen Belle counters suddenly, and Audrey almost smiles at the mystified look on the King’s face.

“It’s his decree,” Queen Belle finishes, and King Adam blinks a moment before grudgingly nodding his head.

“Alright,” the man says, before suddenly resuming his stern air. “But the rest of you must leave. I’m sorry. But we will let you know when…when we reach a decision.”

Audrey nods her understanding, and begins to leave with the rest of the Auradon group. It’s only as they near the end of the hall that Audrey realizes that Mal and Evie aren’t with them, as Fairy Godmother’s voice murmurs:

“I’m sorry, but that means you, as well.”

She almost around the corner, but she still manages to catch Mal’s reply; the girl sounding once again cold and unmovable as she deadpans:

“I’m sorry, but that’s my family….”

And then Audrey is around the corner and exiting the infirmary, thinking that Auradon certainly wouldn’t survive if Mal ever decided to go jr. Mistress of All Evil on them. And also wondering, just how did the children of four of the worst villains become a family?

Chapter Text

Jane

If Jane had a dollar for every time she’d confronted a dangerous villain, she’d have enough money to buy one of the Princess Sized candy bars from Happy’s candy shop…. And it still wouldn’t be enough to make her think that being this close to Maleficent’s daughter when she was throwing glares in every direction, was worth it. Jane almost wishes she’d been told to leave with everyone else. Even though that would mean she wouldn’t be able to help Carlos, and why was it always her? Couldn’t the world just give her one break?

“I’m sorry,” her mom murmurs quietly to Mal and Evie. “But that means you, as well.”

Jane flinches when Mal’s eyes flash green, and the older girl levels Jane’s mom with a hard glare.

“I’m sorry,” the girl deadpans coldly. “But that’s my family in there that you’re talking about, and there is no way in Hell that I’m letting you keep me from them. Not after all the other shit you’ve pulled on us so far.”

“Mal,” Evie whispers sharply, but it’s Flo who bravely steps forward, and Jane marvels at the young fairy-woman’s courage.

“I understand that it’s frustrating,” she says gently, her pink curls rippling with her words. “But it really is for the best if….”

“This isn’t up for debate,” Mal snaps, and Jane stifles a whimper as she creeps back a step, the fae-girl’s eyes lighting with green. “Evie and I are both staying right here.”

Jane sees Evie purse her lips, and the Isle princess’ grip on Mal’s hand tightens further. Jane glances over to see how the adults were reacting, and she grimaces slightly as she takes them in. They’re not taking it well at all, if the hard anger in King Adam’s eyes in any indication. He’s not quite growling yet, and Jane is pretty sure the only reason for that it Queen Belle, who has looped her arm through his; and despite the casual appearance of the gesture, Jane is almost positive it’s the only thing keeping him in check.

Queen Belle, for her part, looks only sad and worried, although she tries to hide it; and Jane can see that her own mother is also trying to hide her worry behind a stern expression.

“Mal…” the older fairy begins, but Mal shakes her head once, cutting her off.

“Say otherwise,” the girl challenges, and everyone present tenses, and Jane sucks in a sharp breath at the unspoken ‘I dare you’ that hangs heavy in the air.

Jane thinks the suspenseful match might go on forever, but then Evie leans over and whispers something in her ear, and although Jane doesn’t catch all of it, she does catch the quiet: “Please,” that Evie murmurs as she pulls away. Mal glances over at the adults again, and she suddenly seems to notice King Adam’s angered expression. Her own gaze falters, the green in her eyes fading away as suddenly as it had come.

Mal works her mouth a few times, and Jane is startled to realize that the other girl is actually afraid, and when her voice finally comes out, it’s quiet and subdued; the complete opposite of the fire that had literally been sparking at her fingertips.

“We’ll stay out here,” Mal offers lowly. “We aren’t leaving…but we’ll wait here until we can see them.”

“That will be alright, won’t it?” Queen Belle says hopefully, glancing over to the three- four if you counted Jane’s mom herself- fairies.

“I suppose it will have to be alright,” Flo chirps shortly, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as though she were keeping herself at bay.

“If we’ve finally gotten that settled,” Faun harumphs sternly. “Jane, dear, if you could come and help with Carlos?”

Jane glances nervously to Mal and Evie, both girls giving her equally calculating and threatening looks in turn.

“Um,” she whispers, shuffling her feet nervously. “You mean, you still really do…you want me to do what?”

She tries to sound confident and committed at the end, but it falls short and just comes out as a whimper.

“We’ll explain inside,” says, her blue stained lock of hair whipping about as she, too, glances anxiously towards the young villains.

“Ok,” Jane murmurs slowly, realizing that it must be something a lot more serious that she’d thought, if they were afraid to say anything in front of Mal and Evie.

Although, Jane reckons, even if it were good news instead, she doubted they’d say that either, given the way Mal had reacted.

She follows Flo, Faun and Merry into one of the rooms, her mother and the King and Queen close behind. The door clicks closed and Jane notices that it’s not, in fact, an infirmary bedroom she’s in; it’s one of the adjacent ‘conference’ rooms, where the nurses and other medical staff can discuss the patient, while also observing said patient through the one way window. Jane glances nervously through the window now, and feels her breath catch as she takes in the sight beyond.

Carlos is lying on his back in the hospital-style bed -perfectly normal, by the standards- except that Jane can see the light green straps that crisscross over his torso, forcing him to be still. And it’s not just that; Jane knows that something is clearly wrong, and looking closer she sees Carlos’ fingers, clutching the rails attached to his bed so tightly that she's surprised they haven't snapped. But it’s the look on his face that really seals things in her mind: he’s entirely pale, his eyes screwed shut in such extremes that she can actually see the little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and brow. His back is arched slightly against the bed, and Jane is certain that if his mouth were open, instead of a clenched line, he’d be screaming.

“Why is he tied to the bed?”

It’s Queen Belle’s horrified voice that asks Jane’s question for her, and though the girl wants to know as well, she can’t tear her gaze from the window.

“It was a safety measure that I was neglected to be told about,” Jane hears her mom answer, and she's relieved to hear the tightly concealed anger in her tone. Her mom was just as against this as she was.

“Who’s safety?”

And Jane is surprised to hear her own voice this time. She barely recognizes it, her tone carrying a foreign weight to it that makes her sound almost...dark.

“You are aware,” King Adam rumbles behind her. “That this boy bit another student. I think the precaution is justified.”

“He was provoked,” Jane hears her mom reply tensely. “And we mustn’t forget that Jay was also brutally attacked.”

“Only after he did the same to a group of defenseless students!”

“And are we to condone the behavior of those students, then?” Her mom retorts. “And condemn Jay and Carlos their actions, solely on their heritage?”

“Ok,” Jane interrupts, her eyes still glued to the silent horror playing out behind the window. “What are we doing to help Carlos?”

“Help him?” King Adam sounds genuinely confused, as though Jane’s words had physically thrown him off track.

“You don’t see that?” Jane replies, indicating the window before her.

Carlos’ lips are parted now, his face twisting in obvious pain. She can’t hear through the window to tell if he’s started screaming, but the sight alone sends a pang of something sharp and desperate through Jane’s chest.

“What can I do?” She asks, her voice shaky but determined as she finally turns to face the fairy-women. “What do you want me to do for him?”

“He’s panicking,” Faun explains quickly, seeming relieved that Jane had brought the conversation back around. “We need you to calm him down, and hopefully keep him calm.”

“More than that,” Flo adds. “We were hoping to find out more about his medical history...if he even has one.”

“You mean, what it was like on the Isle?” Jane surmises, and Flo nods carefully, her lips pursed.

“But the important thing,” Merry finishes. “Is stopping him from panicking before it gets any worse.”

“Yes,” Flo affirms sternly. “And we’ve already wasted enough time bickering so, Jane, if you don’t mind...”

She indicates the door, and Jane is suddenly cripplingly nervous.

“What am I supposed to do? What do I even say?”

“Anything and everything,” Merry says, unhelpfully. “The point isn't in what you say, it's the assurance that he's not alone. You’re there for him and that’s all that matters.”

“Ok,” Jane mutters, her hand on the doorknob when King Adam begins to protest behind her.

“Are we sure we should be sending her? The boy is dangerous, and could very easily be manipulating all of us...”

“How dare you when suggest such a thing!”

And then the door closes behind her, cutting off the rest of the Queen's outrage.

The room seems even more stifling on the inside than looking at it from the outside had made it appear. Jane takes a few steps forward and instantly feels dread creeping up as she realizes that it really is only her and Carlos here. And it's not like the workshop. Somehow this is even worse, and she almost can't bring herself to look at him, let alone talk to him.

There’s a chair against the wall, and Jane lifts it up, carrying it over to sit a few feet away from the bed. Carlos’ fingers still clutch desperately at the rail, and Jane feels a strange urge to reach out and hold his hand. She shakes that aside, and tries to find her voice as his face tightens further.

“Hey Carlos,” she whispers, and even though her voice is anything but loud, Carlos flinches violently, and his eyes fly open to lock with her own.

Jane’s breath catches for a second time, as she sees up close the absolute terror reflected in those dark eyes. He doesn’t seem to truly be seeing her, but she tries to smile reassuringly.

“I guess those dinner plans will have to go on hold, huh?” She manages, even letting out a shaky laugh.

He blinks at her, his own breath coming hard and fast, the monitor portraying his heart rate in frantic staccato beeps.

“Sorry,” she mutters, dropping her eyes to his hands. “I knew I shouldn’t have tried for a joke. I’m only funny looking, not funny acting.”

The rapid beeping tapers off, thumping a little less harshly than before, and Jane notices that his breathing almost sounds normal.

“Speaking of acting,” she adds, watching his hands closely. “Have you thought about joining the school’s drama program? You’re so good at making faces you could totally fit in, easy.”

Carlos makes a strangled noise, and Jane feels a pang of dread as she lifts her head up to look at him. He's still gripping the rails of his bed, and, despite the slowing of his breathing, he's making a low, keening sort of sound between his teeth. Jane nervously glances around the room, but there's nothing that can help her here. Even the adults are trapped behind the one way glass, and Jane doesn't think that knowing they were there would do anything for Carlos except make him even more anxious.

“Ok,” Jane whispers, more to herself than to Carlos. “Ok so talking is a bust, I mean, that figures since half the time I don’t even like to hear myself, so I can't imagine what you must think right now...”

Not helping, Jane’s brain interjects sharply, and Jane lets out a frustrated sigh.

I know it’s not helping! You’re not helping either!

And somehow still doing a better job at it than you are, that part of Jane’s brain snidely crows. So what other brilliant ideas do you have?

Jane groans quietly, but it comes out more like a muffled hum, and she suddenly gets an idea. It’s a stupid one, to be sure, but it’s all she’s got.

{“When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are. Anything your heart desires will come to you…”}

She half hums, half sings the familiar tune, and she’s all set to think herself ridiculous for even trying to sing, when Carlos’ fingers twitch on the railing. Jane pauses in mid verse and leans forward in her chair, not daring to speak for fear of breaking the spell. She examines him closely, and although the monitor is no longer screaming its beeping, Carlos’ eyes are still wide and unfocused. Jane draws a slow breath and starts again, a little softer and slower than before.

{“Fate is kind: she brings to those who love, the sweet fulfillment of their secret longing! Like a bolt out of the blue, Fate steps in and sees you through. When you wish upon a star your dreams…come…true….”}

Carlos’ head turns to face her just as she finishes the song, and Jane almost wants to shout with relief as she notices his eyes are clear, and maybe just a bit confused as he blinks at her.

“Wwhat?” he croaks, and his voice is low and hoarse in the silence of the room.

“Finally,” Jane sighs, a shy smile pulling at her lips. She knows better than to mention anything of his earlier panic, and so she finishes with: “I was waiting for you to join in.”

“I…,” he falters, trying to sit up before the restrains kick in and force him back down. Jane can actually see the panic creeping back into his expression, and she bursts out with the only thing she can think of.

{“It’s a small world after all! It’s a small world after all! It’s a small world after all, it’s a small small world!”}

Not the best thing, admittedly, but it serves its purpose just fine in Jane’s opinion. Carlos jerks like something had stung him, his head whipping around to face her so quickly it makes her own neck hurt to watch.

“Nnno!” he barks out, his eyes hard and cold as he glares at her.

Jane can’t help it…she laughs. Carlos’ glare just hardens even further, which only makes Jane laugh harder, doubling over in her chair as she tries to speak.

“Too think,” she gasps between breaths. “Everyone is so afraid of the villain kids, but all this time we had a secret weapon!”

“Ja-ja-jane,” Carlos growls, but even that is halfhearted in the face of her laughter.

“All we had to do was sing,” she murmurs, giggling softly as she finally straightens.

“Any sane per-person would de-spise that ssong,” he mumbles, still glaring.

“I guess you’ll have to find a better excuse then,” Jane says.

(And here, dear readers, is where Jane suddenly experiences the truth of the phrase ‘foot in mouth,’ a saying which here means: ‘to say something foolish, tactless and embarrassing.’ For example, Jane put her foot in her mouth when she said that Carlos would need a better excuse than hatred of a song to prove his sanity, therefore implying that the boy himself was in fact, not.)

“Wha-wha-what did you ssay?”

Carlos’ brow furrows, but it's anything but confusion in his eyes as he stares at her. Jane works her mouth silently a few times, mentally kicking herself for her carelessness.

“No, no,” she finally chokes out, her voice a desperate gasp. “I didn’t mean it like that, I mean, I don’t think you’re...you’re not...”

“Crazy?” Carlos supplies in and undertone, his eyes carefully guarded and his expression blank as he stares at her. “I-is that the wword you were looking ffor?”

“No,” Jane denies quickly, shaking her head. “I mean, yes. But not you! You’re not like...”

Stop talking, Jane’s brain interjects, and Jane wisely shuts her mouth, clamping a hand over her lips just to be sure. But the damage is already done.

“I’m nnot evil?” Carlos snaps, his lips curling hatefully as he speaks. “I’m nnot like Cr-ruella? No-not crazy?”

His hands tug viciously at the straps tying him to the bed, his eyes wild and furious as he bares his teeth in a grimace. Jane feels a flicker of fear for all of two seconds; because that’s how long the emotion lasts on his face before he’s wiped it away. When he speaks again, it’s in a quiet monotone, and his eyes are black pits as he stares straight ahead.

“I bit Chad.”

Jane blinks, her brain unable to process the sudden shift, and therefore completely misses his words.

“You what?”

He turns to face her, his eyes hard and his face even more so. Jane resists the urge to look away, and instead forces herself to meet his gaze and really look at him. She knows this, she knows that what he’s doing is just a mask to hide behind, but even then it still takes effort to willingly hold that stare.

“I bit Chad,” he repeats slowly, unblinking. “He-he attacked me and Jay, sso I bit him. Ho-how’s that for crazy?”

“That doesn’t make you crazy,” Jane counters, and Carlos scoffs, his lips twisting further. “It doesn’t,” she insists, although she is shocked that she’s trying to reassure him his behavior.

“Wh-wh-what does is make me, th-then?” He retorts mockingly, and Jane blinks again at his bitter tone.

“It makes you someone who was scared and hurting,” she says. “And didn’t have any other options for getting out of the situation.”

Carlos says nothing, seeming to sink into the bed, his fingers limply picking at the straps.

“Carlos?” Jane asks softly, fiddling with her bow as she tries to get around the question she has to ask. He doesn’t look at her, and somehow that makes it even harder. She starts to speak again, and changes gears at the last moment, asking instead in what she hopes is a light tone:

“Did you make a habit of biting people you didn’t like on the Isle?”

Carlos blinks, and he clearly hadn't expected that question. Jane bites her lip, nervously anticipating a negative reaction when he suddenly grins, chuckling mischievously.

“Yeah, wh-when I was five,” he admits with another laugh.

“Really?” Jane doesn’t have to feign her surprise.

Carlos snorts, his eyes glinting in amusement as he turns to her. “How else wwas I supposed to keep away the per-per-perverts?”

Jane feels her jaw drop, her eyes widening as she stares at him in horrified shock. Her reaction makes Carlos hesitate, his brow furrowing slightly before he pushes on.

“An-anyway,” he says slowly, and Jane fights to regain her composure. “I stopped wwhen I hit eight.”

“Why then?” Jane asks carefully, and Carlos grins again, a hint of pride in his voice as he answers.

“Cuz then I ffound my knife,” he reports. “And no-no one wwanted to screw with me then.”

“What about Cruella?”

You really need to shut up now, Jane’s brain snaps at her, and Jane agrees, grimacing when Carlos flinches.

“Wwhat about her?” he mutters, his eyes flickering everywhere except at her.

“I mean,” Jane tries to clarify, as gently and tactfully as she could. “What if you’d gotten hurt? Wasn’t she worried about you?”

“Oh yeah, she was wo-worried,” Carlos replies, in a bitter tone that implies the exact opposite. “If she even reme-me-membered I existed…if she noticed that I wwas even mmissing at all.”

“What?” Jane whispers, shocked at the revelation.

Carlos shakes his head, grimacing as he continues to pick at his restraints. “N-nothing,” he says shortly. “Just…part of Cr-ruella’s crazy included rrandomly forgetting things. Ju-just so happened I wwas one of the things sshe tended to fo-forget.”

“I’m sorry,” Jane says, and Carlos frowns at her, looking strangely small and lost and not at all the vicious villain.

“Sorry?” he asks, blinking slowly. “Wwhy?”

“I…” Jane blinks a little harder, and she knows that if she started crying now it would only make things worse. She shakes her head, drawing a breath before changing tactics. “What was it like? On the Isle, I mean. Not…not her,” she makes sure to clarify. “Um, but just…in general, what…what was it like?”

She’s taking a risk here, a huge one, and she finds that it has everything to do with the boy in front of her, bringing out a side of Jane she never knew existed. But she thinks, that it might just be a good thing. For him, at least, she’d try anything.

“Wh-what was it like?” Carlos repeats, frowning in thought. “Wwell, a normal day ffor me: wa-waking up, doing chores…um, then mmaybe work on a pro-pro-project, or else cause ttrouble with Mal, Jay and E-Evie.”

“I guess you guys got into a lot of trouble, then,” Jane muses, and Carlos laughs, his lips curling mischievously.

“Nnot too much,” he murmurs, but there’s something in his eyes that makes Jane think she does not want to know what that ‘much’ entailed.

“What else?” she asks, relaxing into the conversation a bit more. “Is there a school on the Isle? What are the other villain kids like?”

“Woah woah woah!” Carlos chuckles, lifting his hands as far as he was able. “Sslow down!”

“Sorry,” Jane mumbles, blushing slightly. “I was just curious.”

“Yes, there’s a school; Dr. Fffacilier is the pri-principal.”

“Yikes,” Jane shivers, and Carlos nods solemnly.

“Yyeah,” he agrees lowly. “Major yikes. Ssame for any o-ther villain kids. We didn’t know them all; di-different circles and shit…but e-e-everyone wwho was smart avoided getting in our way.”

“Do you miss it at all?” Jane murmurs quietly, and Carlos frowns down at his lap, his eyes narrowing.

“Y-yes and no,” he finally says slowly. “I miss….” He trails off, biting his lip in that strangely vulnerable way.

“Sorry,” Jane says again, fidgeting with her bow. “I didn’t mean to….”

“Nnno,” Carlos says, shaking his head and blinking up at her. “It’s fine. I wasn’t…no. I don’t mmiss it.”

But there was something about his eyes that weren’t quite right, a glimmer of something heavy and sad that Jane couldn’t fully interpret. Then it was gone, replaced by suspicion as he frown at her.

“Wwhy are you asking me all this?” he asks, and the suspicion is thick in his voice. “A-are you sspying on me?”

“Well if I was, I wouldn’t be talking with you so openly, right?” Jane covers with a shaky laugh. “I mean, the whole point of spying is to be secret…”

“Yeah b-but this is Au-au-auradon,” Carlos mutters, his eyes darting to the door behind her, his whole body tensing suddenly.

“Should I be offended by that?” Jane wonders out loud, but Carlos is completely silent, his eyes locked on something past her shoulder, and Jane can see that despite the stiffness in his body, his hands tremble slightly as they grip at the sheets around him.

“Carlos?” Jane starts to ask, leaning forward in concern, but her voice is cut off by another’s, the newcomer sounding overly cheerful and optimistic.

“Hello again, Carlos,” Flo greets, and Jane turns to see that Faun and Merry are squeezing into the room behind her, the other young fairy-women obviously concealing something behind their backs despite their attempts to be subtle.

“What…?” Jane starts to ask, but then she glances at Flo and the other woman gives her a significant look, and Jane inwardly groans as she realizes this is the part where she’s supposed to keep Carlos calm.

“Do you think we can try again, sweetie?” Flo continues to Carlos, and Jane turns back to Carlos as he makes a low noise in his throat, his lips bared in a grimace as he glares at the pink haired fairy.

“I don’t think he likes that nickname,” Jane mutters quietly, and Carlos’ eyes flicker to hers in acknowledgement before snapping back to the other fairies.

“Well nickname or no,” Faun retorts, her half greened curls bouncing as she shakes her head. “We’re going to need him to cooperate.”

Carlos’ lips pull back further, and that low noise intensifies in volume until Jane realizes with a start that it’s a growl. Carlos de Vil was actually growling at the three fairies, and Jane acts without thinking, leaning forward and curling her fingers loosely around his. He flinches, but he’s stopped from fully pulling away by the restrains, which tighten imperceptibly with his movement.

“Carlos,” Jane says slowly, making sure to keep her voice low and calm, keeping her hand over his despite his growing terror. “It’s alright. They’re not going to do anything to hurt you, they just want to do a few tests.”

“Bu-bu-bu-bull shit,” he hisses through clenched teeth, his eyes not leaving the other three fairies.

“Language,” Jane scolds instinctively, and his head cocks in her direction, a brief flicker of amusement passing across his face.

“Easier to ssay than puuum-mpkin sseeds,” Carlos mutters, his head nodding slightly with the effort, and Jane can’t help but laugh as she recalls that moment in the hallway, as he teased her for her Cinderella themed swears.

“It’s a better alternative than that,” Jane counters haughtily, and Carlos’ lips twitch even further.

“Bbut seriously?” he insists through a laugh. “Pu-pu-pum-pumpkin seeds?”

“Oh, as if yours was any better,” Jane faux scoffs, and Carlos’ eyes crinkle as he laughs.

“At least mine’s an ac-ac-actual wword!” Then he straightens, his expression darkening as he points without looking in the direction of the three fairies. “And ddon’t think I don’t ssee you!” he snaps coldly.

Jane starts, and looks up to see the three fairies, comically frozen in mid-step a few feet away from them. Jane exchanges a helpless look with Faun before returning her attention to Carlos, who smirks at her conspiratorially before continuing their argument.

“I sstill call bull-bull shit.”

“Fine,” Jane huffs, and she would have crossed her arms if it weren’t for the fact that she kind of liked holding his hand. “But let it be said that I do not approve of your use of such language, and that you could consider that I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Nnnoted,” Carlos agrees solemnly, nodding his head, but Jane can see the slight furrow in his brow as he stares at her.

“Hey, think of it this way,” Jane offers lightly. “If they really wanted to hurt you, they couldn’t do anything with me right here. Plus, my mom’s on the other side of that door, too, so…witnesses,” she whispers in a sly undertone- or at least, what she hopes is a sly undertone.

Carlos blinks at that, seeming taken aback by her suggestion before he suddenly smiles at her, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“That is tr-true,” he murmurs, seeming pleased that she’d even thought of such an idea. “Even by Au-au-radon standards.”

“Does that mean…” Flo begins hesitantly.

“That you’ll let us do what we need to?” Merry finishes slowly.

“That dep…ends on wwhat you need to do,” Carlos answers, and his voice is hard again, his face once more a closed off mask.

Jane gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, silently letting him know that she wasn’t going anywhere. He doesn’t exactly relax, but his expression shifts into something only slightly less intimidating. He grips Jane’s hand and nods once, and Jane can see him visibly tense as the fairies draw closer.

“Ok, now we’re getting somewhere,” Faun sighs in a relieved tone as she draws two needles from their hiding place.

Instantly, Carlos recoils, and Jane doesn’t need his barely audible curse to know that this wasn’t going to end well. She grips his hand a little tighter, pulling at it gently in an attempt to get him to focus on her.

“It’s ok,” she tries to reassure. “It’s just a shot; I get them all time when I go to the doctor.”

“Wwhy would you let them sshoot you?” Carlos gasps, and while his words might be a tiny bit amusing, Jane knows better than to laugh.

“It’s a vaccine, Carlos,” Flo explains for her, the other woman’s voice stern but not harsh. “One of several basic vaccinations that everyone receives in the beginning of their lives to keep them from getting sick.”

“Y-y-yeah, we didn’t have an-anything like that on the Isle,” Carlos murmurs skeptically, and Flo purses her lips, Faun and Merry exchanging worrying glances behind her.

“I know,” Flo says shortly, and Jane can feel the disapproval radiating from her voice. “That’s why we need to do these now, and hopefully, with regular checkups and boosters, it will be enough to counteract that.”

Carlos makes a low humming noise in his throat; not quite a growl, but he definitely didn’t approve of the idea.

“It’s only two, Carlos,” Jane whispers, trying for a reassuring smile and not a condescending one. “Remember what I said? They can’t do anything to hurt you with me here.”

“Yeah bbut does it hu-hurt?” Carlos counters, and his accusing glare is cast in the direction of the three fairies.

“Of course it doesn’t,” and all its variants were mumbled by the fairies, and Carlos’ glare hardens, his head shifting in Jane’s direction.

“It feels like a small pinch,” Jane answers, and Carlos shifts nervously in the bed, eyeing the needles in Faun’s hand before nodding slowly.

Merry and Faun sigh in relief, while Jane makes sure to grip Carlos’ hand a little tighter as Flo draws closer with the needles. Carlos goes completely still on the bed, his eyes widening nervously and his jaw clenching in a tight grimace.

“Are you right handed or left handed Carlos?” Flo asks, not seeming to notice the boy’s reaction.

Carlos is silent, clenching and unclenching his jaw slowly, although his eyes flicker to Jane’s, and she quickly explains.

“The shot will make your arm a little sore, so they don’t want to put it in the arm you’ll be using all the time,” she says.

“Exactly,” Flo confirms with a slight nod, taking another step closer. “So then, Carlos, left or right?”

Jane feels Carlos’ fingers twitch beneath hers, curling over her fingers to tap against the back of her hand. She glances down to see Carlos’ thumb and index finger making an obvious ‘L’ shape against the bed, and Jane glances back up at Carlos, slightly surprised.

“You are? Really?” she asks, and then she realizes that the other three fairies are staring at her in confusion.

“Sorry,” Jane says, blushing slightly before answering Flo. “He’s left handed.”

“Of course he is,” Faun mumbled under her breath, and Merry shakes her head, her single blue lock flashing like lightning beneath the hospital style lights.

Carlos tugs at Jane’s hand, and Jane looks over to see him giving her a sideways look out of the corner of his eyes, although his attention was still on Flo as she uncapped the first shot on his right side.

“Oh, um….” Jane hesitates, unsure if it was a good idea to tell him or not. It probably wasn’t, but Flo was already rolling up Carlos’ sleeve, and judging by the flickering of his eyes, he needed a distraction.

“Well,” Jane finally says, keeping her tone light for his sake. “It…A long time ago, people used to think that being left handed was sign of the devil.”

Carlos’ eyes widen, and Jane thinks at first that it’s because Flo has just stuck him with the first needle, but then she realizes that his gaze is still on her, and she shuffles nervously in her chair.

“It was just a superstition,” she tries to appease, but Carlos’ eyes crinkle in the corner, and Jane realizes that he’s actually amused by the idea. It takes her aback, and so it takes her a moment to notice that he was tapping her hand again. She looks down and see that he’s once more changed the shape of his fingers; his thumb and pinky finger extended, his middle three fingers folded over so he was making a ‘Y.’

“Why?” Jane guesses, and he nods, his eyes still crinkled in amusement. “Um, well…I don’t even know where it started…but uh…they used to say that the devil baptized his followers with his left hand. And then from there everyone who followed him would greet him with their left hands…it’s silly I know,” she tries to laugh, but the topic still made her uncomfortable.

Carlos cocks his head as Flo prepares the second needle, and Jane tries to think of what she’d said that might confuse him, or was something he might not have heard of.

“Devil…?” she tries, feeling foolish for the suggestion. “I mean, there aren’t any, I mean are there any…devils on the Isle?”

Carlos gives her a look, and she blushes again, dropping her gaze to their still entwined hands.

“I mean,” she stammers, unable to meet his gaze. “Aside from….”

Remember that talking thing we said you shouldn’t be doing? Jane’s brain interrupts. Yeah, you’re still doing it.

Instead of being offended, Carlos simply laughs, and Jane looks up in surprise to see him nodding at her, his eyes alight with mischief. He taps her hand and Jane looks down to see his fingers wiggling in her grip, and she recognizes his intentions instantly. With more than just a hint of reluctance, Jane lets go of his hand, and Carlos flexes his fingers before they begin moving again, spelling out a word.

“C…” Jane murmurs as his hand cups in an obvious ‘C’ shape.

“H…” His index and middle finger extended to the side, almost like a flag.

“E…” An open fist shape; four fingers curled down with the thumb placed underneath.

“R…” Index and middle finger crossed just over each other.

“N…” A closed fist shape, with index and middle finger exaggerated by his thumb tucked just underneath them.

“A…” Another fist shape; four fingers folded down over his palm, with his thumb pressed against the side of his hand.

“B…” Four fingers extended, pressed together; with his thumb against his open palm.

“O…” An easy one; Carlos’ hand making a clear ‘O’ shape with fingers pressed together.

“G.” Jane finishes, as Carlos extends his index finger and thumb in another sideways ‘flag.’

“Chernabog?” Jane repeats the finger-spelled word, equally surprised at both the information, and the fact that Carlos knew sign language. “They put the Chernabog on the Isle?!”

“They did what?” Flo snaps, though the fairy-woman was far from angry, her eyes wide with shock. “I don’t believe…how on earth did they manage that? Whose idea was that?”

“Well they weren’t about to allow him to stay anywhere near Auradon,” Faun gasps indignantly, while Merry continues Flo’s shock and whispers:

“But how did they even imprison him there?”

Jane glances to Carlos, who looks down at his restrained hands rather pointedly, then in the direction of the three fairies.

“Oh,” Jane frowns, following his gaze and glancing up at Flo. “Is there any chance you could…I mean it’s gotta be obvious right? That he’s not dangerous and that we’re doing good together?”

Flo makes a face, but nods at Jane’s words. “Yes….” She drawls slowly, and with reluctance. “But….”

“But what?” Jane counters boldly, and she really needed to stop getting caught up with negative influences. “He’s safe and I’m safe, so the restraints aren’t needed.”

“You do recall that he confessed to biting Chad?” Faun argues sternly, and Carlos’ expression hardens.

“Yeah, but he didn’t bite you,” Jane defends. “And you were poking him with needles.”

“That is a fair point,” Merry mutters, and Flo and Faun cast the younger woman sideways glares.

“Please?” Jane tries for a convincing smile, and nudges Carlos subtly, hoping he’ll take the hint. “Couldn’t you just check and see?”

Flo turns to Carlos, and Jane glances over surreptitiously to see that Carlos had indeed, taken her hint. His head cocked just so, his dark eyes wide and his lips slightly parted, Carlos’ expression was somehow the perfect blend of innocent, hopeful and pleading; made all the more effective by the slight furrow in his brow which seemed to imply an underlying sense of anticipating disappointment.

Jane has to purse her lips to keep from laughing, but the three fairies gasp and coo, and exchange looks with each other until Flo finally sighs.

“I don’t see why we can’t go check,” the pink haired fairy mumbles, and Carlos face lifts, looking like a little kid who’d been told he could eat chocolate before dinner.

The three fairies shuffle out of the room, and not a moment after the door clicks shut, Jane dissolves into laughter.

“I can’t believe…that face!” Jane gasps between breaths of air and peals of laughter. “I mean it; you should join the theatre department!”

Carlos gives her a skeptical look, but even he can’t help but chuckle, and Jane quickly cuts her own laugh off as he works hi mouth to speak.

“Guy-guy-guy-guys don’t do theatre,” he scoffs, and Jane lifts a brow at him, smirking in amusement.

“You know, there was a time when only guys used to do theatre.”

“Ssure,” he mutters sarcastically, and Jane huffs at him in exaggerated frustration. “Wwwhat would I even do in theatre?” He retorts, and Jane chuckles again.

“You’d do what you’re absolutely great at,” she giggles. “Make faces.”

“Ffaces like...” Carlos starts to shift his expressions, but before Jane could start teasing, and even before he’d completely changed his face, the door slams open and cracks against the wall.

Jane jumps, but is stopped by Carlos’ hand, which reaches and grabs hers, squeezing hard while the boy himself pales in his bed.

“M-m-mal!?”

Evie

Mal is pacing again, and it makes Evie more nervous that her encounter with the King and Queen of Auradon. The other girl stalks back and forth before the two infirmary doors, her fingers lighting with sparks every few steps. Evie perches anxiously on the edge of her chair, grateful that despite the fact that Ben was still present a few chairs down from her own, the Prince was too wrapped up in his own problems to really notice them.

Mal makes a low noise of disgust in her throat, snapping her fingers at her sides and causing the sparks to cascade across the floor in a sudden flash of green. Evie starts, glancing over at Ben, but his head is his hands, his lips moving but no sound coming out that she could hear. She doesn’t bother trying to figure out what he’s doing, and instead inches further out on her chair and calls out to Mal.

“Mal!” Evie hisses, and the other girl casts a glare over her shoulder, her eyes just as violently green as her magic.

“What.” Mal growls lowly, and Evie purses her lips, casting another pointed glance in Ben’s direction.

“Can you please at least…sit down?” Evie asks quietly, and Mal’s eye narrow, her lip curling in a sneer.

“No,” she snarls, turning sharply on her heel and continuing to pace, the sparks still snapping harshly from her fingertips.

Evie winces but tries again. “You know you really shouldn’t--”

“I. Know.”

“Mal please,” she’s practically begging now, and she hates begging. But desperate times and crap. “Please come sit. For me?”

It was a stretch, and pushing so many of the other girl’s boundaries, but Evie had no other options at hand. She wasn’t about to get up and try and physically make Mal sit down. Aside from the fact that she didn’t want to draw further attention, she also wasn’t feeling particularly suicidal.

“Please,” Evie whispers again, and Mal’s fingers snap a few more times before the girl makes her way over and sits down roughly on the edge of the chair beside Evie.

Evie doesn’t relax, doesn’t dare breathe the sigh of relief that’s bubbled up into her chest. She just sits, eyeing Mal cautiously out of the corner of her eyes to try and determine how volatile she was. She decides it’s worth the risk, and slowly slides her hand over, reaching to place it over Mal’s, which is clenched tightly against the arm of the chair. Evie makes it all of two inches when Mal jerks her hand back, and she looks up to see the other girl’s eyes harden.

“I wouldn’t,” Mal mutters, her free hand snapping sparks against her thigh.

“I trust you,” Evie whispers back, allowing the full weight of the meaning into her voice.

Mal’s lips quirk in a mirthless smile. “I wouldn’t do that, either.”

“Mal,” Evie insists quietly, and Mal’s eyes flicker, before the other girl sighs.

“Yeah, ok.”

Evie smiles in quiet victory, and takes Mal’s hand again. It wasn't just a desire for contact. Touch had never been an easy accomplishment for either girl, but Evie knew Mal needed something to ground her and keep her from losing control, and Evie was more than willing to be that thing. If only because she needed it too.

“Is it true? What you said?”

Ben’s voice comes from nowhere, and both Mal and Evie jump slightly, though Mal is the one who recovers first, seeing as the question is directed at her.

“I say a lot of things,” Mal deadpans beside her, and Evie looks over to see the other girl is glaring at Ben, eyes alight with both magic and anger. “And I’d like to think that almost none of it is true, so…” she shrugs coldly, and Evie anxiously glances to see how Ben was handling being addressed so irreverently.

The Prince was startlingly calm, his expression almost pained as he stares at them. “What you said about…about the food.” He grimaces, but pushes on. “Is it true?”

“That we eat shit?” Mal challenges, raising a brow. Evie sighs, and Ben winces, but nods slowly.

“Mal,” Evie cautions softly, but Mal is already going.

“I mean, the majority of it is still pretty decent, even if it’s trash,” she states in blunt tones. “If you’re lucky you can usually score the best of the stuff that comes over. If you’re fast enough, and get there first, or happen to know the right people.”

Her lips twitch at that, and Evie rolls her eyes, although she’s stifling a grin too.

“What about you then?” Ben probes cautiously, his bros furrowing slightly as he stares at Mal. “Which group did you fall in?”

“My mother was the Mistress of All Evil,” Mal scoffs lightly, her eyes narrowing. “Do I look like the kind of person that wanted or needed to know people?”

Ben’s eyes flit over Mal’s tense form once, before he quickly (and wisely, in Evie’s opinion) shakes his head. “No,” he murmurs.

“No,” Mal agrees sharply, but then something passes across her face and she glances down, and Evie only just catches her muttered words: “Which could also explain why she was always so disappointed in me.”

“What?” Ben asks, and Mal snaps her head up to glare at him again.

“I said,” she growls lowly. “That if anything, I was the one that people needed to know.”

Evie bites her lip, fighting the urge to slap a gag over Mal’s mouth so that she could take over and keep things civilized.

“Right, sorry,” Ben concedes with a nod, before he cocks his head. “Was?”

“What?” Mal snaps, and Evie shoots her a warning glare out of the corner of her eye.

“You said your mom was the Mistress of All Evil,” Ben says, frowning in confusion. “Is she not anymore?”

Evie feels more that sees Mal stiffen, and the other girl’s head jerks slightly, like she had started to look over her shoulder and then stopped herself midway.

“I didn’t say that,” Mal denies immediately, and Evie tightens her grip on Mal’s hand.

“When you were talking about knowing people,” Ben tries again, leaning forward in his chair a bit. “You said….”

“No, I didn’t,” Mal says coldly, and Evie winces at the shock of magic that stings her hand, traveling sharply up her arm in intense pins and needles.

“Sorry…” Ben starts to say, but Evie shakes her head.

“It’s fine,” she cuts in quickly, glancing again at Mal and wincing at the dark look in the girl’s eyes.

“Totally fine,” Mal snaps, and Ben grimaces, turning to Evie with a definitely pained look now.

“What, um…what about you, Evie?” he asks, and his tone suggests that he regrets even this question.

“Mom and I are royalty,” she can’t help but brag just a little, slipping her hand from Mal’s and discreetly stretching the still tingling limb. “So things were a little easier for me in some ways, and harder in others.”

“Like what?” Ben asks curiously, and Evie can practically feel his relief in the normal conversation. “Did you have a castle?”

Evie sees Mal flinch out of the corner of her eyes; and the movement is so subtle and so quickly hidden that if it weren’t for the fact of the subject and Mal’s connection to it, she wouldn’t have even noticed it at all. But Evie gives Mal’s hand a quick squeeze anyway, and makes sure to keep her tone light and even as she answers Ben.

“There’s only one real castle on the entire Island, and it’s Maleficent’s.”

“Oh,” Ben says, paling slightly as he realizes the implications.

“Yeah,” Mal mutters bitterly, her eyes narrowing at the ground. “Oh.”

“It wasn’t your fault, M,” Evie murmurs to her, but Mal either doesn’t hear or chooses not to hear, because she straightens and casts another glare in Ben’s direction.

“Why do you even want to know all this stuff?” Mal snaps sharply. “Is it just so you can do more experiments on us?”

“I…no,” Ben defends, frowning slightly. “This isn’t an experiment, or a test or anything. I really wanted to give you guys a chance, here.”

“Noting the past tense,” Mal fires back, her hands clenching in nervous fists at her sides.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Ben says hastily, and it comes out almost sharp. Evie lifts a brow at him, and Mal’s lips twitch in sudden amusement.

“So the proper Prince isn’t so proper,” she taunts, and Ben flushes with embarrassment, a hand going through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he says instantly, and Mal’s amusement fades just as suddenly. “I didn’t meant to snap.”

“You should though,” she mumbles sullenly under her breath. “You should always mean it.”

Evie sighs, and turns back to Ben in an attempt to run interference before Mal started sparking again.

“We appreciate what you’re trying to do…Ben,” she adds as a cautious afterthought. “It could certainly be going better…”

“Maybe we’re not singing enough,” Mal muses quietly.

“But we do appreciate it,” Evie continues sincerely, offering the Prince a soft smile. He returns it, and Evie wonders fleetingly, if she should try and pursue this.

Then one of the infirmary doors opens, and the three half fairies come rushing out, looking flustered and frustrated in turns.

“Of all the improper…” one of them huffs, shaking her head.

“No vaccines at all? No proper healthcare whatsoever!” another adds.

“…a wonder any of them survived this long,” the third agrees.

“If he ran around biting everyone, I can see at least how Carlos managed,” the one in blue says quietly, and a small giggle slips past her lips.

“Yes, well,” the pink clad woman harrumphs sternly, stopping the laughter. “That is why he was restrained in the first place.”

Evie stiffens, and Mal snarls low in her throat, her eyes lighting green as her face twists into a vicious and terrifying expression. Ben straightens, too, and is the first out of his chair to face the fairy-women.

“What?” he says, but his voice is too strained and quiet to be heard.

“But he does seem to do well with Jane, at least,” the fairy with the green hair says. “I think it’s fair to consider….”

“I’m sorry,” Mal says, in sweet tones that make Evie shiver slightly to hear. “Did you say you restrained Carlos?”

Jay

Jay wakes again to a blissfully quiet room, and it instantly makes him tense and suspicious. He blinks open his eyes and stifles a groan as the harsh white light assaults him once again. The annoying colorful women are gone, and he considers that a relief, at least. His only problem is that he still hadn’t seen Carlos, and he’s finding it harder and harder to ignore the paranoid part of him that says the other boy is dead. Granted, his paranoia had been part of what had allowed him to survive the Isle for as long as he had, but right now it’s the last thing he needs.

“Hey slugger,” a voice says from too close beside him. “Good to see you finally awake. I was sure you were down for the count but the fairies insisted you’d be fine.”

“Of course I’m fine,” Jay grumbles, glaring as he sits up to face his unwelcome visitor. “I’m offended you’d even think otherwise. As if those prissy princes could actually do worse than anything I’ve had on the Isle.”

He scoffs at Aziz’s scandalized look, feeling a twinge of anger with makes his sneer harsher than he intended. He’s bracing himself for the other boy to start spouting shit about his perfect life in Auradon, but Aziz just blinks a few times and gives a halfhearted and over dramatic sob.

“I’m offended you think so low of royalty,” the other boy murmurs. “I happen to be a prissy prince myself, you know.”

“Yeah, right,” Jay snorts, but the other boy simply lifts a brow at him, and Jay blinks as he remembers just who Aziz is. “Yeah,” he mutters in bitter resentment. “Right.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Aziz grins at him. “Junior Royal Grand Vizier isn’t anything to sneer at, either.”

“I will murder you in your sleep if you don’t leave right now,” Jay growls, but Aziz just grins wider.

“No can do,” he quips cheerfully. “I’ve been assigned as your, how do you say ‘haris,’ as it were.”

“You’re my jail keeper, then?” Jay snaps irritably, crossing his arms.

“What?” Aziz falters, his grin lessening slightly. “No, I said guard. They just wanted me to be here to keep an eye on you and make sure you were ok.”

“Mh-hm,” Jay hums skeptically. “Which basically translates to prison guard.”

“That’s not what it means at all,” Aziz grumbles, entirely deflated of humor, much to Jay’s satisfaction.

“Why you?” he asks, not bothering to hide his disgust. “What, they think just because we happen to be from the same land and story we’ll suddenly be best friends?”

“I…think that was the idea, yeah,” the other boy admits ruefully, rubbing the back of his head before dragging his palm across the side of his face.

“Right, so if we’re done living in fairy land,” Jay sneers, pushing himself up and away from the mattress, ignoring the sudden spike of pain. “I’m going to go and see Carlos now.”

“You sure about that?” Aziz replies, a skeptical smirk on his face. “You do have broken bones.”

“Like that’s ever stopped me before,” Jay retorts in an undertone, sitting on the edge of the bed and trying not to throw up as everything pitches painfully to the left.

“Ok, but at least go in this,” Aziz murmurs, and Jay opens his eyes- not even realizing he’d closed them- to see Aziz drag over a weird looking chair attached to four large wheels.

“The fuck?” Jay croaks out, and Aziz glances up at him. “I am not going to be carried around in that thing…especially not by you,” he makes sure to add, glaring down at the other boy.

“It’s called a wheelchair,” Aziz explains, and Jay has to at least give the guy credit for not being a condescending dick. “And you can push yourself in it, I don’t have to do anything except stand back and watch. And maybe point and laugh,” he finishes with another grin.

“Fuck you,” Jay deadpans, and Aziz laughs.

“Thanks, but you’re not really my type,” he chuckles, his eyebrows lifting significantly.

“I will kill you,” Jay promises solemnly, and Aziz nods, still laughing.

“In my sleep,” he says. “Yes, I’ve heard.”

“No,” Jay counters, shaking his head and making a face. “You lost the right to be killed all peaceful in your sleep. Now I’m just going for straight up murder.”

“Poisons the way to go for that then,” Aziz offers with a helpful nod.

“Who said I was a poison kind of guy?” Jay retorts, lifting a brow of his own. “Maybe I’d like to watch you bleed.”

“Totally gonna slit my throat then,” the other boy murmurs gleefully, still nodding sagely. “That’ll be a mess to clean up though.”

“You’re right,” Jay grimaces, shaking his head back and forth in thought. “Might just have to find a really painful poison then.”

“Or you could strangle me,” Aziz gasps, his eyes lighting with the idea. “You wouldn’t get to watch me bleed, but I bet I’d squirm a lot.”

“You just might be on to something,” Jay admits grudgingly.

“Ok, good! So it’s settled,” Aziz smiles, and extends a hand to Jay with a muffled chuckle. “When should I expect you, because you know, I gotta make sure someone can still feed Raja when I’m dead.”

Jay starts to fire back his own response, but he realizes with a sudden jolt that he’s laughing, too; so hard in fact, that he can’t actually draw a breath. He straightens from his doubled over position and fights to compose himself, to get air back into his body, to shove away the pain and scowl again. But he finds he can’t maintain the glower, and grins in spite of himself, reaching out and clasping Aziz’s arm in a firm grip.

“You are one sick son a bitch,” he manages through his laughter, and Aziz cracks up as well, returning his grip with one of his own.

“Happy to oblige,” the other boy replies easily. “Now, if we’re done arranging my murder, why don’t I see if we can’t go and visit Carlos?”

Belle

Belle had been accused of many things in her *ahem* 42 years. Insane; a prude; a book worm; a freak; different from the rest of society; nothing like the rest of society and more. And, when she’d first met Adam the accusations had ranged from things such as witchcraft, to bestiality, to Stockholm syndrome. She and Adam still laughed about the last two from time to time.

But never had she been accused of not caring.

That is, until now.

“What exactly do you intend to do about this?”

“We can’t allow the situation to get any more out of hand than it already has.”

“I suppose you’re suggesting we simply wash our hands of the effort?”

“…was a noble idea….”

“Noble, but naïve.”

“Well no one could have possible guessed it would be like this…”

“I could have guessed. In fact, I think I did.”

Belle peers across the table at the dissenting voice, and can’t quite hide her frown as she takes in Benjamin Kropp. The man wasn’t wrong; he had been one of the strongest voices against bringing the villain children into Auradon. The man wore an expression that was equal parts smug and dissatisfied, but it was the outright glare the Fairy Godmother was directing at him that prompts Belle to speak up.

“Have you experienced any trouble from the four?” She asks, certain to keep her voice calm and measured.

“Well, I only have the two boys in my class,” Kropp replies, a slight hesitation in his voice that Belle does not miss.

“And have you had any problems controlling them?” Adam rumbles beside her. His sudden presence in the conversation startles a few, but Belle merely grimaces at his choice of words and continues to wait for an answer.

“The son of Jafar has been…neutral at best,” Kropp hedges further, only just keeping himself from squirming under the combined royal gazes. “I catch him giving me sullen looks every now and then, but he has yet to give me any trouble.”

“And…Carlos?” This tentative query is posed by Fairy Godmother, and Kropp’s face twists into a vicious expression.

“The de Vil boy is another matter entirely,” he all but spits, his lips curling with contempt. “Disrespectful and arrogant, he tried making excuses for his lack of participation, as though he were entitled to special treatment. And then when I finally do manage to get him to participate, he openly mocked me in front of the entire class!”

Belle blinks at this, because, despite the fact that she hadn’t actually gotten to know the boy, the image the biology teacher painted was strikingly different from the image she had seen through the infirmary window. Even Fairy Godmother seems caught off guard, as the older woman straightens, her eyes widening as she turns to the man.

“I haven’t heard any reports of these incidents,” she says, then pauses, adopting a shameful tone. “Although, granted, I hadn’t thought to check….”

Belle sighs quietly to herself, understanding the Fairy Godmother’s dislike of such meetings. Adam is just as quiet beside her at the head of the table, but she’s certain that it’s only because he knows, as she does, that if he opens his mouth anything he says will be either a growl or a roar. She eyes her husband subtly, noting the tight crease in his brow. Definitely a roar, then.

“You mentioned you do not have a class with the girls,” she cuts in, attempting to keep things on track. “If you do not teach them, then who does?”

Louis Deley clears his throat softly from the chair a few places down from her. “That would be me, Your Majesty,” he deadpans in his usual slow drawl. “I teach chemistry to both Mal and Evie, and I believe Professor Thatch will be teaching all four children History, when the time comes.”

“Thank you, Mr. Deley,” Belle acknowledges with a brief smile. “How do the girls behave in your class?”

Mr. Deley sighs low and long, but it’s not anger or frustration in his voice. (Although, Belle had never really heard him give any sort of inflection other than that flat drawl, so it was hard to tell.)

“I’ve had no trouble; at least, not in the way Kropp seems to have,” he says. “Evie…is a strange one,” he finally settles on, after a pause. “I do not know if she is incredibly smart or incredibly ignorant. She has not turned in any assignments to me, and yet I see her copy them down at the end of class. If I call on her to give an answer, she feigns cluelessness and gives such a response that I wonder if she should even be in a class at this level.”

Belle frowns, and she sees Fairy Godmother do the same. But the biology teacher wasn’t finished yet, shaking his head slightly in what Belle interprets as amazement.

“And yet,” the man continues lowly. “When I glance at the notes she takes in class, it’s the opposite. She takes such detailed notes, and understands the concepts so well, working out the problems even before I complete them on the board…Her notes tell me she should be in an advanced class. But for some reason, she is hiding that.”

There had been something bordering excitement in the man’s voice as he praised Evie’s accomplishments; the tone only obvious because of the way it drops at the end into disappointment.

“And what about Mal?” Fairy Godmother asks, frowning, and Belle can see the others at the table also frowning as they ponder over what he’d said.

“Mal doesn’t even try,” Deley sighs, shaking his head again. “She would do well if she simply applied herself. She does take some notes, but I suspect that the majority of them are copied from Evie’s, given that every time I look at Mal’s notebook, it’s full of doodles and sketches. Very well done doodles and sketches, to be sure,” the man shrugs a shoulder. “However I don’t think my class is the right one for her.”

“Alright then,” Aladdin chimes in for the first time, a satisfied grin on his face as he claps his hands together. “Now we’re making some progress: just have Mal do biology with Jay, and since Kropp is having trouble with Carlos, he can do chemistry with Evie.”

Adam hums gruffly, not appreciating the way the younger man spoke so out of turn, but Belle does see some merit to his suggestion.

“Will that hinder any progress they have already made?” she asks the teachers. “Academically, I mean.”

“As long as Carlos can keep up in class I’ll have no…difficulties,” Deley murmurs. “I don’t see a problem on my part.”

“And Mr. Kropp?” Belle continues, turning to the biology teacher. “Do you have any objections to this idea?”

“As much as I would appreciate having the opportunity to teach in a more civil environment,” Kropp replies slowly. “I do not think it’s right to simply move de Vil to another class and allow him to go unpunished for the disrespect and the disruptions that he has caused to my class.”

Belle frowns, but Adam hums again and speaks before she can.

“A fair point,” he murmurs, inclining his head in acknowledgement. “Especially given the recent circumstances.”

“In regard to that,” Anita breaks in quietly. “The circumstances themselves were not entirely one sided.”

“If what we’ve heard is true,” Charming finally speaks for the first time as well. “Our son is, regretfully, responsible for the current condition of the young villains.”

“While we’re not condoning the actions of either Jay or Carlos,” Cinderella is sure to add. “It is nevertheless Chad’s actions that have directly caused harm to both himself and the other boys.”

“I would hardly call an instance of childish teasing to be adequate provocation for biting someone, however,” Kropp objects sharply. “Nothing is adequate cause for that. I’m surprised at your lack of outrage, Charming. After all, it is your son who is requiring stitches.”

“I can’t help but wonder,” Belle catches someone say. “If this could have been avoided if we’d taken the children from the Isle when they were younger.”

“Have we taken them?” She counters, coolly. “It was my belief that we were giving these children a chance at a good life.”

“And where was all this goodness before?”

Belle starts at Aladdin’s intrusion, not just because of the interruption itself, but that his voice has taken on a mocking and slightly darker tone than his usual upbeat tone.

“What?” She blurts, rather ungracefully.

Jasmine shoots her husband a sharp look, but the Agrabah prince was already going, leaning forward slightly in his seat with a bitter smirk playing at his lips.

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” He says with exaggerated disappointment. “I’m the only one who remembers?”

Belle glances to Adam, but he’s just as quiet, if not quite as confused as she was. The rest of the members present are equally subdued, and Aladdin shakes his head with a wry chuckle.

“Well, I guess that’s no surprise since you’re all so old!” He murmurs thoughtfully. “You know forgetfulness is the first sign of aging….”

“Aladdin!” Jasmine interrupts sharply, a soft flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she attempts to derail him.

“Sorry!” he shrugs easily, clearly not ashamed in the slightest. “I can’t help it.”

“I think I see where Aziz gets it from,” Adam murmurs softly to Belle, and she glances to him in quiet reproach.

Aladdin hears, but he simply shrugs again. “Guilty,” he replies with a smile, which is wiped away in an instant with his next words. “And so…are…you,” he says lowly, practically glaring around at the assembled board.

“Aladdin!” Jasmine cries, horrified, as Adam fights to remain seated.

“What is the meaning…” he begins, but the younger man has already turned his gaze to Fairy Godmother.

“You say we should have taken them sooner; intervened when they were younger,” he says. “But you seem to have forgotten that we had that chance, and refused to take it. Not just ignored it; refused it.”

“I’m sorry?” Fairy Godmother tries to protest, but it’s halfhearted as best, and Belle can see from the expression on the woman’s face that she knows exactly what Aladdin was accusing her of.

“The Isle didn’t just magically pop up overnight,” he continues in a much more serious tone. “We had all of them, here. The villains, the henchman…more importantly, we had the children. And instead of reaching out with all our ‘good intentions’ and ‘well-meaning naïveté,’ we throw them all onto a secluded island prison.”

“It was necessary for the safety of everyone involved, and that included the villains,” comes the automatic protest from Belle’s mouth, which speaks despite the fact that her heart and brain knew he was right.

“Who would have taken in the children, anyway?” Kropp throws out.

“And what would we have done with the villains? Simply let them roam free among us?” Adam snaps.

“And how would we have chosen who could stay or go?” Fairy Godmother points out, though she too, looks to be torn amongst herself.

The protest continues for a few more tense moments, but Aladdin doesn’t waver, simply waits with his arms crossed until everyone falls silent. He draws a slow breath, closing his eyes a moment as though deciding whether he should speak again or not. He does, opening his eyes and peering around the table once again.

“King Adam,” he says quietly, and his tone is once again a respectful one. “Do you remember what it was like before Belle came? When you were still a beast?”

Belle sucks in a quiet breath, and though Adam remains calm on the outside, she could feel him wince at the question.

“I don’t remember much, actually,” he admits in an undertone, his gaze even as he stares at Aladdin. “I try not to think too much at all about the earlier days before Belle. It was a rather dark time for me.”

Aladdin inclines his head in respectful acknowledgement before moving his gaze over to the Charmings.

“Cinderella,” he says slowly. “You remember, of course. What it was like for you living with your step family.”

Prince Charming straightens indignantly when Cinderella flinches, but the woman places a hand on his arm, and nods at the Arabian prince.

“Of course I remember,” she murmurs softly. “I could never forget.”

There’s a deeper pain in her eyes, and Belle knows what she must thinking of. Not just her step mother, but her step sisters; how Drizella was still on the Isle and just how close Anastasia had come to being placed there herself. Aladdin knows this as well, and offers her an apologetic look along with his respectful nod.

“Anita,” he says next, and his voice is so low it almost couldn’t be heard. “I know how you feel.” He leaves it at that, nodding with empathy to the woman before turning his gaze once more, this time to the room at large.

“I could go down the list of all the royalty of Auradon; name the things they went through before finding their happiness and true love and everything. But honestly, I don’t know how many of them even remember it. How many just don’t think about it, or have shoved the memories away, or if they only have good memories of their lives and none of the bad.”

Aladdin pauses, and Belle presses her lips together, beginning to realize what he was doing.

“Well, let me tell you this,” he continues quietly. “I remember. I remember being nothing more than a street rat to the people of my kingdom. I remember how it feels to starve, to not have anyone looking out for me except for me. I remember having to resort to lying, and cheating. Stealing…and worse.”

His eyes flicker to Jasmine, who simply sits in a state of shock, completely caught off guard by her husband’s sudden turn.

“I remember what it was like before Jasmine,” he continues solemnly. “But of course, everything’s ok now because I did meet Jasmine. Charmed my way into her heart and now I could never want for anything!” The bitterness is back in his voice, but it’s not as harsh, tamed by sadness.

“It’s a good thing she gave me chance, huh?” he says, lifting his eyes to stare around the room. “Good thing she didn’t just see me as a thief and throw me in jail or something. I mean, after all, what kind of people lock other people away to live in seclusion based solely on black and white prejudices?”

Belle has to fight to remain composed, despite the way her heart was throbbing and her stomach clenches as Aladdin’s gaze shifts to she and Adam at the head of the table.

“Oh, that’s right,” Aladdin says softly, dropping his eyes to the table. “The heroes. That’s who.”

Carlos

“So, the puppy’s bark isn’t worse,” the girl drawled. “You know, you should do that more often.”

“Do wha-what?” He growled suspiciously.

“Bite.”

Carlos didn’t quite know what to say to that, but judging from the relieved and slightly excited looks on Jay and Evie’s faces, he could only assume he’d passed some kind of test to earn her approval. He would have felt relief himself, but the adrenaline had finally left his body and he could only slump weakly against the wall as she circled to his right side.

“This’ll hurt. Don’t scream,” she said, and it was all the warning he got before her hands were on his shoulder. There was a sharp, loud pop, and his shoulder flared with renewed pain. He jerked violently, but remembering her words, he brought his hand up and bit his fist, muffling the sounds that escaped his mouth.

“Ok, my job is done,” Mal said, clapping her hands together officially. “Now get out of my basement.”

“Mal!” Evie cried, shocked. Even Jay seemed a bit startled at her abruptness, though he didn’t try to retort.

“What? You wanted me to fix him; he is fixed.” Her mouth twitched as she said those last words, and if his shoulder wasn’t still throbbing thanks to Leroux, Carlos would have let her know just how clever he thought her dog comments really were.

“His wrist is still broken,” Evie tried, but Mal shrugged a shoulder.

“That one’s not on me.”

“But--”

A sudden thud from above them cut into Evie’s protests, and all four children froze. Evie turned a shade lighter, and even Jay looked slightly squeamish as a chorus of scrabbling sounds drifted down through the boards, along with a low rumble like thunder.

“Mal,” Evie said, her voice a hoarse whisper, but Mal raised her hand quickly and silenced her, her eyes locked on the trembling ceiling.

“Sh…” Mal hissed, and Carlos thought she was shushing the other girl until it turned into: “…it,” and he recognized it as a curse. “Shit!” Mal whispered again, and Carlos couldn’t help but flinch from his corner.

“Mal…” Evie tried again, but the scrambling sounds stopped suddenly, turning into muffled clicking; footsteps.

“Ma-a-al!” A woman’s voice echoed, a lilt in her voice that turned Mal’s name into a song. It was too bright and cheery for the atmosphere, and that alone terrified Carlos far more than if it had been yelling.

“Fuck.” It came from Jay, but his voice was almost as hoarse as Evie’s.

“Ma-al!” The song was shorter, a clipped note filtering through the false cheer.

“Should we…?” Evie muttered, her lips barely moving as she motioned towards the exit hole above Carlos’ head.

“No,” Mal said, finally stirring from her stupor. “No, just…stay put. I’ll deal with her.”

“What about the new kid?” Jay asked, and Mal frowned, glancing at Carlos impatiently.

“He’s not the new kid.”

Carlos

“M-mal!?” Carlos blinks, caught off guard by the girl’s sudden appearance in the room. It wasn’t just that it was unexpected; it was the fact that the locked infirmary door literally burst open, slamming so hard into the opposite wall Carlos was certain the paint had chipped from its surface. The fact that Mal was every bit as fierce and terrifying as she had appeared when he’d first met her on the Isle, all rough edges and cold brutality.

And of course, the most important bit in Carlos’ mind: the fact that her eyes were glowing bright with green fire, that same sinister green dripping dangerously from her hands to spill across the tile floor.

Carlos struggles to get as far upright as he can, gripping Jane’s hand hard to keep the other girl from getting up. Evie rushes in just behind Mal, and Carlos thinks that maybe it would be ok and Evie could calm her down before….

“You.”

Carlos flinches at Mal’s voice, cold and yet absolutely furious as her eyes snap to Jane, who squeaks out a whimper from her seat.

“What do you think you’re still doing here?”

“Mal,” Evie tries softly, but Mal’s eyes harden even further at Jane, who glances to Carlos in terror.

Carlos hesitates a moment, trying to gauge just how bad this was and if anything Jane said would make it worse. He casts a quick look in Mal’s direction before nodding imperceptibly to Jane, tapping her hand to get her attention and fingerspelling the word:

‘Careful.’

Jane nods her understanding, and turns slowly to Mal, not letting go of his hand as she manages to answer.

“I’m keeping Carlos company,” she attempts to say, Mal scowls sharply, and her eyes flash an even brighter green.

“Out,” she growls, and Jane pales, standing so quickly from her chair that it scrapes painfully across the floor, the force of her movements causing Carlos to lose his grip on her hand.

He knows better than to try and reach for her again, but he still has to stifle the action, instead clenching his hands into tight fists and biting the inside of his cheek hard to keep from calling out to her. Jane scrambles desperately for the door, aided by Evie, who offers the girl a tight, but reassuring smile before closing the door carefully behind her.

Only once the door is shut again does the fire leave Mal’s eyes, but it still sparks at her fingertips as she moves closer to the bed. Carlos sets his features in what he hopes is a firm and unwavering look, but Mal is focused on the green straps that cross over his body, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

“I am going to kill whoever did this to you,” she states calmly, her fingers snapping against her side and showering sparks across the tile.

“Mal,” Evie murmurs, and though her voice is stern, Carlos can see the worry in her eyes.

Mal ignores Evie completely, her gaze once again drawn to Carlos’ restraints.

“Mmal,” Carlos tries, attempting to keep his voice level despite the way it shakes just a bit. “I-I-I-I’m ok, sse? I’m not hu-hurt; they didn’t hurt mme.”

He makes sure to emphasize that last bit, and something close to relief but not quite there passes across Mal’s face. Then she presses her lips together, her eyes narrowing as she snaps her fingers a little sharper than she had before.

Evie makes a soft sound, and Carlos tries and fails not to freak out. The restraints don’t completely break apart, but they loosen enough that Carlos can work his own way free, and he presses himself against his pillows as he draws a slow breath.

“You-you-you can do magic nnow?” he mumbles dazedly, and Mal blinks, staring down at her hand expressionlessly.

“I guess I can,” she replies lowly, and Evie groans weakly.

“Hades help us all,” she hisses, and Mal’s lips twitch, a far more normal spark in her eyes.

“This’ll be fun,” she says, and Carlos shakes his head sharply, eyes wide.

“No no,” he denies quickly. “No it w-will not.”

“All we need now is Jay,” Mal continues as if she hadn’t heard him. “And things’ll be ok.”

And, just like a trained demon, Jay’s voice rings out from behind the door, muffled but growing louder as he nears.

“…swear to all that is evil, Aziz, if you say one more thing….”

“One more thing,” another voice answers, before a rough slam is heard, followed by a sound that is half laugh, half wince.

“Ow-how!” the voice groans. “Ok, I won’t say anything more about how you look just like my grand-father when he….”

Another slam, and this one reopens the newly closed door, and the boy from the cafeteria staggers backwards through it, unable to catch himself before falling. Somehow he turns it into a roll, and manages to more or less make it to his knees before he doubles over again, this time with laughter.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t help it!” he chuckles, beaming widely up at the figure still in the doorway. “You just make it so easy!”

“This is…not what I meant,” Mal mumbles, and Carlos glances over, catching the weird pause in her voice and noticing with alarm that she looks almost as breathless as the boy; her lips pressed tightly together and her face pale as she shifts just a little closer to Evie.

“Hey everybody,” the newcomer greets, standing and straightening his Auradon jacket. “The party can now begin, because the fun has arrived.”

“For the love of Hades, Aziz,” Jay groans, and he’s suddenly in the room, leaning heavily on some kind of cane that’s tucked under his arm. Carlos draws a sharp breath that seems too loud, and Jay’s eyes flicker up to his before quickly looking away.

“Hey, Carlos,” he murmurs, and Carlos swallows hard, trying to decide if the churning in his gut was from relief or anger.

Jay clears his throat, and Aziz glances back and forth between the two, his eyes dark and thoughtful.

“Oh,” he says softly, and an almost indecent look crosses his face. “Oh I see…”

“Shut up,” Jay threatens lowly. “Or I will skip the strangling and go straight to snapping your neck.”

“Worth it,” Aziz whispers back, and Carlos ignores the strangeness of the boy’s presence, and takes advantage of his recovered mobility. He tucks his feet up and on one smooth motion, yanks off one of his shoes and chucks it as hard as he can at Jay’s head.

“Y-y-you bastard,” Carlos growls, as Jay flinches to the side and only barely ducks under his second shoe. “I thought…y-you…fucking…a-asshole!”

“Carlos,” Jay starts to say, but Carlos reaches back and yanks his pillows out from behind him, chucking those at Jay, too.

“I’m sorry!” Jay tries, sucking in a breath and wincing. “I know, ok? I ditched you, I left you because…because I was being an asshole. I was being selfish and that’s that. I’m sorry.” He hobbles further into the room, and Evie moves to give him space while Mal straightens ever so slightly, a warning in her eyes as she glares at Jay.

“I’m sorry,” Jay says again, this time to Mal, before his eyes lift once again to Carlos. “I know I let you down and that it’s going to take more than just this stupid Auradon apology to make it…right. But I had to say it.”

Then a soft smirk twists his lips, and he murmurs:

“I literally had to say it; part of Fairy Godmother’s detention assignment involves learning to say a proper apology.”

“Damn it, Jay,” Aziz whispers before Carlos can even begin to process what just happened. “Just fucking kiss him, already!”

That does something. Jay swears hoarsely, and Mal and Evie exchange stunned and unamused expressions in turn.

“Where the hell did you find this one?” Mal snaps, and Aziz clears his throat, lifting a hand from his place on the floor to wave at her.

“Hi,” he says with overt sarcasm. “’This one’ has already met you, remember? The cafeteria yesterday. At breakfast.” He turns his head to wink at Carlos again. “That one stole my food. Ringing any bells?”

“Sorry,” Mal deadpans, unimpressed. “I don’t make a habit of remembering insignificant encounters.”

“Oh!” Evie hisses triumphantly, and the ensuing appreciation of the burn (especially from Aziz) is almost enough to distract Carlos from the fact that Jay was still staring at him expectantly.

Almost.

Chapter Text

Mal

There’s a very particular way that dragons sleep. In all the stories and legends and fairy tales, dragons always slept in dark, creepy caves, surrounded by piles of gold. Or bones. (Mal preferred bones.) The purpose for the piles of gold, according to some particular legends, was not just as a trophy of all the villages the dragon had burned, or offerings from villages hoping not to be burned. The belief held that because dragons were reptiles, they needed to bathe in the sun to stay warm, and because the sun doesn’t shine in dark, creepy caves, the gold soaked up all the sun for the dragon so that when they slept they could still bathe in the sun.

Her mother always said that was a lie, and a stupid one at that, and so Mal didn’t hold stock in stories like that. And anyway, she would know, Mal always thought to herself whenever her mother would scowl at the dragon facts Mal would share. Her mother was a dragon herself.

Mal was a dragon too. She had to remind herself sometimes, or else her mother would remind her, that she had the blood of a dragon and so she was above things like fairytales and stories. Personally, though, Mal kind of liked the stories. It helped when the wind tore through the towers so hard the stone would crumble, or when it rained and soaked through the rafters, dripping loudly in her bedroom and usually making her sick in the process- to think of it as her own dragon cave, and imagine what sort of treasure she would collect to fill it with.

But she did like the idea of bones better. Bones meant that you were a fierce dragon, that the villages were too scared of you even to offer trophies of gold. Bones weren’t easy victories like simply flying over and burning the town and people. It meant that they had to come to you; send their fiercest warriors to try and kill you. And then she’d get to kill them first, fight and prove that she was the fiercest dragon with the collection of bones.

Mal always liked to dream of that, herself as a dragon amidst the bones. She even slept like one, or at least, that’s what she’d always pretend. She’d pretend that her room was even larger, and even darker. Less damp and without any mold in the corners. Her bed wasn’t a rough pallet, so hard she might as well be on the floor. She had piles of warm gold and an even larger collection of bones, and she’d lie on her back and curl herself up in just the right position so she could look up through the hole in the cave ceiling; see the sun come up and just sort of drift….

“Mal!”

Mal groaned, opening her eyes but refusing to shift from her comfortable position. She’d only just gotten to the point where the loose board wasn’t digging in her back! Why was it so hard for her to sleep, but not her mother?

“Mal Bertha!”

The vicious snarl came again, and Mal groaned even louder, stretching her body out so she was lying flat on the thing that was a bed. Middle name didn’t mean ‘trouble,’ not necessarily. But it did mean that whatever it was must be important, since her mother hated the name almost as much as Mal did. It was part of why she’d picked it.

“I’m up!” Mal shouted back, letting a snarl of her own color her words, and grinning when her mother hollered back:

“Don’t you use that tone with me, missy!”

Mal pressed her lips together to keep from firing back another retort, and instead rolled onto her feet, only wobbling a tiny bit before regaining her balance. She was proud of herself for that accomplishment. The last time she’d missed a meal, it had taken her almost half a day to get control of the dizziness. She was getting better. Stronger.

She bent down and tightened the straps of her shoes, (she always wore shoes to bed, just in case) eyeing the hole in the toe of her left shoe warily. It wasn’t that big yet, but she didn’t want to take any chances. The right was already wearing at the heel, and soon enough there wouldn’t be anything keeping them together except sheer willpower. She crossed to the dresser shoved against the far wall, yanking hard on one of the drawer handles. It always stuck, but seeing as there were only three other functioning drawers, she wasn’t about to let it go to waste.

“Mal!”

She grimaced at the bite in the woman’s tone. She was definitely going to miss breakfast today, too. The drawer came free and she staggered back, flushing angrily before grabbing the first thing she saw, pulling a mud green sweater over her ragged t-shirt and scrambling for the stairs. She huffed her way down them, leaping over the loose stair at the bottom before straightening with a scowl, pushing a thin strand of light blonde hair out of her face.

“What?” She snapped, then froze, spotting the man standing beside her mother for the first time.

He was tall, much taller than her or her mother, with dark skin and even darker eyes. His hair must have been dark too, but it was wrapped up in some kind of scarf, so Mal couldn’t really tell. But she could tell that she had crossed a line, as the man’s face twisted into a sneer that rivaled even Mal’s.

“A rather disrespectful brat,” he murmured to her mother, who scowled sharply at her. “I do hope I haven’t misjudged this arrangement, Maleficent.”

Mal flinched at the look the man gave her, and quickly dropped her eyes to the floor, cursing herself for the stupid mistake. Stupid, and fatal, in any number of circumstances.

“Of course not, Jafar,” she heard her mother respond, and the man must be someone important, if he was letting her use his name. “Believe me, I keep my daughter well in hand. Much like your own son.”

The man, Jafar, spat on the ground. “A thorn in my side, that bastard,” he cursed. “But useful enough.”

“And the arrangement will benefit us both,” her mother continued smoothly, and Mal shifted uncomfortably, dread churning her stomach. Or maybe that was hunger.

“It had better,” he grumbled, but he snapped his fingers sharply, and Mal heard a muffled scrambling sound from above. She didn’t dare lift her head, but the stones cracked painfully as the sliding sound continued, before ending with a dull thump just outside the door.

It opened, and a light pattering of footsteps sounded, before a pair of booted feet ran past her vision. They stopped just before the man, and a young, boyishly high voice said:

“You called?”

There was a mischief in that voice that put Mal on edge, but it was cut short by a sharp slap, and the smaller feet wavered slightly.

“Insolent boy,” the man hissed furiously. “What were you doing on the roof?”

“You said I should stay look out,” the boy answered, but the lightness was gone from his voice. “So I thought I’d have a better view from the roof. Sir,” he added quickly, but another slap rang out regardless, and Mal winced in spite of herself as the boy was sent sprawling at her feet.

“Worthless,” Jafar sneered, and Mal could see him shift his body away from them. “Do you see what I have to put up with? At least yours seems…competent.”

“Thank you,” Mal heard her mother murmur, but even she seemed mildly put off at the violent display. “If you would, we can discuss the details…” her voice trailed off, and Mal sighed quietly in relief as their footsteps trailed with them, lifting her head at last.

The boy was still on the ground, and she frowned, taking him in. He must have been about a few years older than her, 11 at most, and he didn’t look anywhere near as fierce as his father. His skin was a shade lighter, his hair long and curling around his ears almost like a girl’s. The thought amused Mal, and she smirked to herself, wondering if she could take his shoes while he appeared unconscious. He must be as weak as Jafar said, if one hit sent him flying like that. Although she supposed, to be fair, he could also be tougher, if he could at least take a hit like that.

She frowned and shifted her weight, not liking the way the thought twisted at her insides. It was a weak feeling, a pitiful one, and if she was going to have any chance at surviving she had to get rid of all weakness. And she especially couldn’t be associating with weak boys.

“Hey,” she snapped at him. “Are you dead?”

At her voice, his eyes shot open, and his body twisted, arching up off the floor, and with an impressive kick, he was back on his feet.

“I guess not,” she muttered, only vaguely disappointed. She’d find other shoes somehow.

The boy ignored her completely for a moment, his eyes sharp and intelligent as he scanned every inch of the room. There wasn’t much to see; the stairs behind her, the door over to his right. A window without a frame, and just beneath it, a couch that was missing all its pillows. He took it all in with a single glance, before his eyes fell back on her and he grinned, a smile that was all teeth and no charm as he lifted a brow.

“Hey,” he said shortly. “You?”

Mal crossed her arms, feeling her lips curl, and she allowed her eyes to flash green at him. “Hey you?” she snarled. “What, are you a long lost Gaston triplet?”

His expression faltered, and he took an uncertain step back. “Uh, no? I…I said Jay. I’m…” he cleared his throat, dropping his voice and trying again. “I’m Jay. And you are?”

“Disgusted by your very presence.”

He laughed at her response, his eyes glinting as he pointed in the direction of the kitchen, where the adults had gone.

“Hey, so is my dad,” he said gleefully. “You two would get along great.”

A loud bellow of laughter, followed by a slightly louder shriek of mirth sounded from the next room, causing both children to jump, though Mal recovered first.

“Sounds like they’re getting along, at least,” she mumbled, and Jay gave her a look out of the corner of his eyes, his head still turned in the direction of the kitchen.

“I’d be a little more concerned, if I were you,” he muttered back. “My dad doesn’t ‘get along’ with anyone, more like charms his way to their untimely demise.”

“Please,” Mal snorted, rolling her own eyes. “Do you know who my mother is?”

“Should I?”

Mal started, caught off guard by the boy’s flippant tone. “Y-yes,” she snapped, scowling at him fiercely. “My mother is Maleficent, the Mistress of All Evil. She controls the goblins and all the powers of Hell itself.”

“Cool,” Jay murmured, still watching the other room intently. “My dad was the Royal Grand Vizier to the Sultan, and manipulated his way to becoming an all-powerful Genie.”

“He…he doesn’t look like an all-powerful Genie,” Mal probed cautiously, though she backed away from the kitchen just in case.

“That’s cause he’s not anymore,” Jay retorted, finally turning back to face her. “And your mom’s nothing special, either.”

Mal flinched, her eyes widening as she shot an anxious glance to the other room. “Shut up!” she hissed, shoving Jay hard.

“It’s true,” he said, shoving her back just as hard. “They’re not powerful anymore. But we…we could be.”

“What are you talking about?” Mal snapped, not liking his tone, or the feelings it stirred up inside her.

“I’m talkin’ about how someday, I’m getting off this stupid rock, and finding a magic lamp. Then, it’ll be my turn to be powerful.”

There was something dark in his gaze, in his grin, and Mal could suddenly see his resemblance to his father.

“That’s what they’re talkin’ in there,” Jay continued, jerking his head to the side. “About a way to get out and be powerful again.”

“That’s impossible,” Mal retorted, but the idea had her brain flip flopping with thoughts. “There’s a magic barrier. And just because she can still change form doesn’t mean….”

She trailed off, because Jay was giving her a weird look. “She can do what?” he asked, and Mal pursed her lips, realizing that maybe she shouldn’t have revealed that.

“Nothing,” she shook her head sharply. “I don’t get what we have to do with all this, but….”

“No no,” Jay said, shaking his own head as a sly sort of grin crossed his face. “You said she can change shape? Even with a magic barrier?”

“She…she’s a dragon,” Mal confided lowly. “I am too, but she’s stronger than me, and can actually change her form.”

“But how?” He seemed delighted at the prospect, and Mal bit her lip nervously.

“Something about the barrier,” she finally murmured. “It turns any magic items useless, like brooms can’t fly and stuff. But if the magic item, or person, is powerful enough, it simply dulls the magic to where it can’t be felt. If you’re strong enough, though….”

“Killer!” he crowed, and he leaned forward, suddenly enthusiastic and childish. “Do you think you could, too? Is it some kind of spell, or…oh! A necklace or something? Wait till I tell E--”

“Jayden!”

Jay flinched, but disguised the movement rather cleverly as he spun playfully on his heel, coming to a sharp attention as Jafar and her mother strode into the room. Mal glanced up and caught her mother’s eye, and gave a short, reassuring nod in response to her tight, worried look. Then she noticed Jafar’s glance and instantly averted her eyes. She heard him give a grunt of approval, but he ignored her after that, his feet turning instead to Jay. Mal found that she was holding her breath and instantly let it go, frowning hard at the ground.

“It has been drawn to my attention,” he murmured in grudging tones. “That I may not be using you to your full ability. Despite this, Maleficent has…kindly…offered an arrangement that will benefit us both.”

The way he said the word kindly made Mal shiver, and she glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eyes, trying to understand what was happening. Her mother gave no indication that she felt Mal’s gaze, however, and Mal scowled at Jay’s too-good-for-him shoes.

“No team in ‘I?’” Jay offered warily, the confusion in his voice apparent. Mal wondered what sort of catch phrase that was, but Jafar seemed to approve, letting out a low laugh that reminded her of snake’s hiss.

“It would seem this is one of those delicate times where a mutual cooperation is needed,” Jafar responded silkily. “You will teach Maleficent’s daughter the tools of the trade, and in exchange, she will teach you her own.”

“What?” Mal snapped, bringing her head up to glare at Jafar. She could see that Jay looked equally surprised, and had only just restrained himself from making the same exclamation.

Jafar turned on her, and Mal realized too late the mistake she had made. She didn’t dare look to her mother for help. She knew it wouldn’t be given, and not only that, but she had the blood of a dragon. She would face this herself. Mal’s glare was fierce, but Jafar’s even fiercer. She supposed a snake wasn’t that far off from a dragon, and although a dragon had power, the snake had poison.

Something about that dark gaze petrified her, and she was trying to brace herself for death when Jay’s voice rang out, low and skeptical.

“I don’t see how that mutually benefits me,” he mumbled, and Mal found she could breathe again as the man turned on his son.

“I mean,” Jay continued, kicking a foot casually. “I get it’d have to be good for you to take it but, what’s the deal?”

“The deal,” Jafar hissed, so sharply that Mal winced. “Is that you and Mal will learn from each other, and in exchange, so will Maleficent and I. She will provide a sort of sanctuary, and in return, I will provide commodities of my own.”

There was something in Jafar’s tone that made Mal uncomfortable for some reason; some secret hidden in his words that she couldn’t -and didn’t want to- understand.

“Know this, Jafar,” her mother cut in, and the power in her voice was undisputable. “I know when I’m being cheated.”

“Believe me, my dear Maleficent,” he crooned back in sly tones. “There is nothing but the best from my stock.”

“For your sake, let us hope so. And your brat better be as good as you say, my daughter has yet to disappoint me and I would hate for her to start now due to your lack of training.”

Jafar growled something under his breath, but the words weren’t anything Mal could understand. They sounded like gibberish to her. But Jay seemed to understand well enough, judging by the way he stiffened suddenly. But whatever tension that crossed between them passed, and Mal practically sighed aloud as they both turned to leave.

“We will discuss matters further amongst ourselves later this week, Maleficent,” Jafar tossed back over his shoulder. “In the mean-time, Jayden is free for your daughter’s use at any time.”

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement,” her mother responded lowly, and Mal bit her lip at the suppressed fury in her voice.

The door shut firmly behind them, and they weren’t gone more than a breath-length of time before the sparks ignited in her mother’s hands.

“Slimy bastard,” she growled, a low sound that echoed deep in her chest. “The nerve! That he thinks he can dismiss me. Me! He’s lucky I considered him even marginally worth my time the desert loving…..”

Mal shifted back a step, just in case, and her mother’s sharp eyes caught the movement, the blue orbs lighting with green.

“And just what,” she snarled, stalking towards her. “The hell, do you think you were doing?”

“I…,” Mal faltered, then grimaced, forcing her voice to remain even and lifting her eyes to meet her mother’s. “I didn’t think,” she said. “I wasn’t….”

“You’re damn right you weren’t thinking,” her mother snapped, cutting her off. “Honestly Mal, I expect better from you than this.”

“I know,” Mal murmured, dropping her gaze, unable to meet the disappointment in her mother’s eyes.

“When I was your age, showing such disrespect could mean the difference between the loss of your tongue, or your life.”

“I know,” Mal said again, a hint of a groan in her voice.

“Or your life, Mal,” her mother repeated sharply, her fingers reaching out and grabbing Mal’s chin, forcing her to meet the green-eyed gaze. It was more than fire, more than magic; it was raw power, an unseen vise squeezing tighter than her mother’s grip.

“I have worked too hard,” her mother continued in a dark undertone. “And you have yet to fail me. Don’t. Start. Now.”

Mal tried to nod, or even tear her eyes away, but the green wouldn’t let her go. She was frozen, and a hint of fear stabbed somewhere deep inside her, stealing the breath from her lungs. Something must have shown in her face, because her mother’s gaze softened, and Mal found she could breathe again.

“I’m only hard on you because I expect things from you,” her mother said, in a slightly less dangerous tone. “Jafar may not expect much from his brat, but that’s because they’re weak, and he doesn’t see things the way I do. The way we do,” she added, a wicked smile curling at her lips.

“But if he’s so weak,” Mal said cautiously, twisting her fingers through the gap in her sweater’s hem. “Why…why are you working with him? Why do I have to teach Jay--?”

“Because,” her mother sighed. “Sometimes you have to stoop in order to reach the throne room.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” her mother said, and her voice was tight again. “That I will work with Jafar, and you will work with Jay, and we will show them what true strength is.”

Mal had a sudden flash of realization, and she couldn’t help but echo her mother’s wicked grin. She would be just like the dragons in the stories. Even better, because she would be the fiercest, and maybe, just maybe, she could get some bones out of it.

“So,” Mal offered, smiling just a little wider. “Stooping?”

Her mother’s smile is all edges, but the light in her eyes is something hot and fierce. “That’s my little dragon.”

Jay

“Ok, so hey,” Aziz mumbles in his ear. “Um, can’t help but notice that you’re still just staring.”

Jay blinks, realizing with a pang of irritation that the other boy was right. But he still feels the need to remind him that Jay was the one in control here. He stabs down with his crutch and smirks at Aziz’s muffled groan.

“Point taken,” Aziz says, a hint of strain in his voice. “But uh, what are you gonna do about it?”

Jay is all set to attempt strangling the other boy as promised, but then he realizes that Aziz was not in fact, taunting him. Carlos was still sitting up in the infirmary bed, and he could tell by the set of the smaller boy’s jaw that he was just aching to throw something else at him. Something sharp, maybe. Or explosive.

“Carlos,” Jay tries again, keeping his voice low so it didn’t carry too far in the room. “Please, just say something.”

“Ssomething,” the boy growls in a harsh deadpan.

“Come on,” Jay retorts, frustrated. “What more do you want from me?”

Complete silence, and Jay realizes that it's not just because Carlos was refusing to talk. He stiffens, and turns sharply on his heel to see that the door had been swung open without any of them noticing, and the Fairy Godmother, along with Ben, and a man and a woman who were undoubtedly his parents, gaped from the open doorway.

“What--” Fairy Godmother tries to say, but is cut off by the man, who stalks forward into the room with a severe frown.

“What on earth is going on in here?” He demands, and his authority is made all the more apparent by the shiny badges on his suit and the (rather obvious now that Jay was thinking about it) crown on his head.

“Aziz,” Fairy Godmother continues, less harsh but equally stern. “I thought I told you to make sure Jay remained in his own room.”

“Oops?” Aziz tries with an innocent shrug, but even Jay know it’s too late for that.

“And just what,” the King breaks in, his eyes turning to Mal and Evie now. “Are doing in here? It was my impression that you intended to wait in the hall.”

Jay feels a tight sneer twisting his expression, and he shifts his weight on his crutch, ready to move forward and give the bastard a piece of his mind. Royal status or no, no one messed with his crew and got away with it. But Mal shoots him a look, and he reluctantly leans back; ready to jump in, but resigned to let her deal with it.

“We were more than happy to wait in the hallway,” Mal says, and her voice is a poisonous rumble. “But that was before we found out you had practically chained Carlos to his bed. Of course, it’s understandable how that could make us a little...upset.”

She snaps her fingers lightly by her side, and even Jay is caught off guard at the small spark of green that dances through her fingers before disappearing.

“Whaat?” Aziz whispers hoarsely. “She can do magic too?” His head snaps up to glance over at Jay before turning his amazed gaze to the adults. “I didn’t know she could do that; did you know she could do that? Cuz that’s pretty freakin’ awesome if you ask me.”

Jay grits his jaw at the barely concealed anger in the King’s face, which is echoed by resigned frustration in the Queen’s, and simple weariness in the Fairy Godmother’s. Aziz sees it too, and falters, his wide eyes dimming slightly as his smile fades.

“Of course, you’re not asking me, so…”

“Aziz,” the Queen cuts in with a short sigh and a shake of her head.

He falls silent and blinks up at the Fairy Godmother, his head nodding slightly to the left. “Something I said?” he mutters slowly, and she echoes the Queen’s sigh.

“Not you,” she replies tensely, and Aziz blinks again before breaking into a downright sinful grin.

“Oh,” he says, his eyes shining darkly as his gaze turns to the royals. “It was Dad…he did the thing, didn’t he? That hero speech?”

The King makes a sound that’s half growl, half groan, and Jay takes a half step closer to Mal and Evie.

“You know about that, how?” Fairy Godmother asks with a grimace.

“He’s been practicing for almost a week,” Aziz replies glibly. “Bear in mind that when I say practicing, I mean ranting over the phone to me and Mom or in letters. Aw, I wish I coulda seen it! Your faces….”

“Aziz,” Ben says, and his voice is stern and commanding in a way that Jay did not think he was capable of. “That’s enough.”

Aziz blinks, then inclines his head; conceding. “Right,” he murmurs quietly. “Well seeing as my commentary is clearly not needed, I’ll just head on out and take Jay back…”

“Actually, Aziz,” Ben continues, and his voice has dropped most of its sternness. “There’s some stuff we need to talk about with Jay and the others, since they’re all here.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he drawls easily, scratching the back of his head, but there’s a nervousness to his motions that sets Jay even further on edge.

He knows it has the same effect on Mal because he hears her snap her fingers lightly, and Evie sucks air between her teeth. Carlos doesn’t make any kind of sound, but Jay knows that he’s not any less affected than all of them. ‘We need to talks’ with an adult of any kind never ended well on the Isle. If you weren’t dead by the end, you wished that you were. That instinct is what drives Jay’s next words, despite the other part of him that knows it’s suicide.

The moment Aziz is gone and the door has shut the four of them in with the adults, Jay reaches a hand back to stop Mal’s forward movement and takes a wavering step of his own.

“I should go,” he says, trying not to lean so much on the damn crutch, to meet the King’s steely eyes and not look as weak as he felt. “I started the fights. I attacked Chad, on the lawn and in the halls; no one else. And…I stole the dwarf kid’s book.” He swallows hard and ignores Mal’s furious hiss of his name, continuing firmly. “I’m the one who should be sent back to the Isle.”

There’s an almost laughably long amount of silence at his words, and Jay doesn’t know if the look on the adult’s faces is confusion, relief, anger or something else entirely. But he certainly knows what the choked cursing behind him means, and he winces at the danger in Mal’s tone as she growls:

“Jayden. What the absolute hell do you think you’re doing?”

Her use of his full name would make him smirk in any other circumstance, but no one was amused, and no one had yet to actually counter his statement. He shifts his weight as subtly as he can, but the crutch still clicks rather obnoxiously against the tile, and it seems to at least jar Ben out of his stupor.

“What?” the other boy says, startled. “We’re not kicking you out…no one is being sent back to the Isle.” Then he pauses, and his brow furrows as his eyes flicker to the adults. “Right?”

Jay stifles his bitter snort, and clamps down on any further reaction as the Fairy Godmother quickly chimes in.

“Of course not,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “We wouldn’t exile you from the kingdom for something as trivial as bullying.”

Then she seems to realize what she’s said and goes pale, stammering hastily in her attempt to clarify.

“I…I mean, that is to say….”

Mal grunts softly behind him, but Jay keeps his gaze locked on Ben, waiting for the other boy to break first. He does, his hands fidgeting in front of him and his eyes looking anywhere but directly at Jay.

“Guys,” he says nervously. “You’re not in trouble. I mean, there will probably have to be um…consequences,” he trips over the word, and Jay wonders if it’s really that foreign a concept to him. “But no one is being sent away.”

“Right,” Jay retorts skeptically, and he notices with a hint of triumph that even the Queen was now having trouble meeting his gaze.

“Children,” the Fairy Godmother cuts in, and Mal growls her displeasure. “Rest assured that we will not treat you unfairly. While we don’t encourage negative behavior such as fighting or bullying, we do understand where your actions come from.”

“Do you now?” Jay hears Mal mutter, and he grits his jaw to keep his own challenge from slipping out.

“Now, while I am relieved to see you relatively unharmed,” Fairy Godmother continues, either not hearing or choosing not to respond to Mal’s taunt. “There are a few things we need to address. For instance, Carlos…”

Jay straightens, and he hears a shuffle of movement that can only be Mal and Evie sliding closer to Carlos’ bed. He sees a flicker of an exchange pass between the King and Queen, but he keeps his gaze locked on the Fairy Godmother.

“I received a surprising report from your biology teacher, Mr. Kropp, about some…behavioral issues he’s been having in class. Would you like to explain that to me?”

“Ssure,” Carlos says, and his voice is full of strained sarcasm. “Mu-mu-my issues or his?”

“What he means,” Jay cuts in quickly, before anyone could get too angry. “Is that Kropp hasn’t exactly made things easy for either of us, but especially Carlos.”

“I knew w-what I meant,” Carlos mutters darkly from behind him, but Jay continues with Fairy Godmother.

“You said Carlos could sign in his classes, so he didn’t have to worry about talking,” Jay accuses. “But then Kropp said he wouldn’t give out any ‘special treatment’ to villains, and that was that. He basically treated Carlos like crap, so it’s no wonder he snapped.”

“Jay,” he hears Carlos growl softly, but the Fairy Godmother blinks, her voice one of surprise.

“I was not aware of any of this,” she murmurs quietly. “If you were having trouble you could have come to me.”

Jay snorts, and he can almost hear Mal roll her eyes.

“Especially you, Carlos,” Fairy Godmother continues. “If Kropp wasn’t understanding of you or your needs, you could have told me, and I would have handled it, instead of undermining his authority in front of the class.”

“Wait, you did what?” Mal hisses, and Jay angles his body so he can glance at Carlos too.

“I didn’t u-u-undermine anything,” Carlos says tersely. “He asked, and I an-answered.”

“But the way it came across...” Fairy Godmother insists gently, but Evie shakes her head, cutting across her.

“Carlos, did you really?” She asks, stunned. “When I gave you those notes I thought you'd write them in a report or something, not...”

“Ssay it in front of pe-people?” Carlos finishes, and Jay grimaces at the sharp bite in his voice.

“Yes,” Evie admits, but there's a hint of reluctance in her tone.

“Yes, well,” Fairy Godmother says, taking back the conversation. “Regardless, the situation in general is not a good one, which is why we've come up with a solution that will hopefully be beneficial to everyone.”

Jay had heard that before, and the only ‘benefits’ he’d received was being sent here to Auradon.

“Starting at the beginning of next week, Carlos will be taking Chemistry with Evie, and Mal will learn Biology with Jay. And you will all begin Auradon History I with Professor Thatch.”

She says it like it's the greatest news in the world, but Jay couldn't care less about history or science. What concerned him was the fact that he was being separated from Carlos, and while it wasn't a big deal on its own- they'd all been apart from each other before- the situation itself made it feel like a punishment.

“This is not something that is being done to hurt you,” Fairy Godmother says gently, like she had read his mind. “It is not a punishment. Rather it's something we've come up with in the hope that it will make things easier for you.”

“And there's more,” Ben cuts in, and he looks actually excited about this 'more.' “We figured since you all clearly have a lot of energy and different talents and skills, that it would be a good idea for you guys to take some extracurricular classes.”

“Extra classes,” Mal deadpans. “That's a good idea how?”

“Extracurricular,” Ben corrects, still with an eager smile. “They're classes that don't necessarily count for a final grade, but are things that students can do for fun, and to enhance a skill or learn something new.”

“Thanks,” Jay says. “But I think we've got our skill sets covered.”

“Think about it, at least,” Ben suggests, not put out in the slightest by his tone. “Auradon has a lot to offer, and I think you guys do too.”

“Aside from what we have already seen, I hope,” the King rumbles, and Jay feels a smirk pulling at his lips. They had no idea what they were capable of. But he was looking forward to showing off.

“Well, that's the good news at least,” Fairy Godmother continues. “As Ben mentioned, there will be consequences. Chad is currently receiving stitches for his wounds, and there has been much debate as to what should be done.”

Jay tenses, gripping the crutch tighter. He bet he could take out at least Ben and the Fairy Godmother, and if it came down to it they could all gang up on the King...of course that would leave the Queen, but hopefully she'd be smart and either run or just let them go...

“An extra week of detention,” the Fairy Godmother's voice cuts through his morbid thoughts. “And an official apology issued to Chad and his family from both Jay and Carlos.”

Jay feels some of the tension leave his body at her words. Because this was Auradon, not the Isle. Of course they wouldn't actually do anything...

“And Mr. Kropp has requested that Carlos serve a separate detention with him, as well as apologize for the disruption he caused to the class.”

“Hang on,” Jay snaps, his hands clenching around the crutch once more. “Don’t you mean that the other way around?”

“Jay, that’s enough.”

It’s Mal’s voice this time, hard but low, so Jay only just catches her words. He turns on her furiously, but she straightens and meets his gaze with eyes a shade of green he’d only ever seen on Maleficent. There’s no sparks this time, but the intensity of her stare alone was enough to give Jay second thoughts. Evie was shaking her head beside Mal, silently pleading with him not to give in to his instincts and meet the challenge. Carlos was still refusing to acknowledge him at all, and Jay turns back to Mal when she growls softly at him for his attention.

“Stand down,” she hisses quietly. “We’ll deal with it. Don’t. Start. Shit.”

He grits his jaw in a fierce snarl, and Mal’s own lips twist, her expression hardening as her eyes flash just a bit brighter.

“Stand. Down,” she repeats, and Jay finds his control slipping, his anger and resolve melting just enough that he can’t hold her gaze. He jerks out of her control with a curse, snapping his head to the side and breaking the staring match.

“Cheater,” he hisses, but he backs away and lets her step forward and take control.

Jay turns back around in time to see Ben’s uncertain gaze, which is reflected in the eyes of all the adults present, the prince shifting his weight nervously before asking:

“Is everything…?”

“It’s fine,” Mal replies shortly, but then she recovers, or rather, falters. Her balance seems to, at least, and she has to take an extra step before she gets her feet under her again. “Carlos will say he’s sorry and we’ll all move on with our lives.”

“Um,” Ben starts to say, but Mal turns her attention back to the Fairy Godmother.

“Is that it?”

“It is, for the present.” The answer comes, not from the Fairy Godmother, but from the King, and Jay sucks in a breath while Mal goes rigid and drops her eyes.

“Time will only tell just what will come of this,” the man continues sternly. “I will say, that while the past day’s events have been resolved - however un-ideally- any future incidents will be looked at quite differently, and will not be taken nearly so lightly. Is that understood?”

Jay grits his jaw against the anger that wants to spill out and nods, and he can only assumed the slight shuffle of sound behind him means that Carlos and Evie are doing the same. Mal inclines her head even further, the fire completely gone from her voice as she answers.

“Very understood, Sir.”

The King nods, satisfied. “Good. Now, if that is quite all…” he glances to Ben significantly, and the other boy seems to deflate slightly as he turns back to face them.

“I’ll see you guys later, ok? Try not to set anything on fire.” He offers a half-hearted grin before he turns and follows after the King and Queen.

“Not funny, Benjamin,” Jay hears the King mutter, and then they’re gone, and it’s just the four of them and the Fairy Godmother.

“Well,” she sighs. “That all could have gone much better.”

Jay scoffs, and Mal echoes his unamused laugh with one of her own.

“You’re telling us,” she replies, and the Fairy Godmother shakes her head before offering up a smile of her own.

“While things might not be great right now, I do want you all to know how proud I am of the progress you’ve made so far.”

She seems to be looking at Carlos in particular, and Jay frowns, wondering just what it was she was hinting at that he didn’t know about.

“It will get even better,” Fairy Godmother promises. “But you are going to have to try.”

“Try?” Jay repeats incredulously. “You mean we haven’t been trying already?”

“Told you I think we should be singing more,” Mal mutters.

“I didn’t mean to diminish your achievements, Jay,” Fairy Godmother says, and Jay makes a face at her overt and condescending tone. “I just think…you all can come across very intense, and so perhaps you could try and take in some more Auradon influences.”

“Yeah, you say ‘influence’ and I hear ‘manipulate,’” Jay replies warily, shifting his weight and trying to hide his wince as his ribs twang painfully.

“We’ll try, though,” Mal cuts in, shooting him a sharp look. “The Auradon way.” She smiles at Fairy Godmother, who returns it with obvious relief.

“I’m glad to hear you say that, Mal,” she says with a sigh, before straightening with obvious intent. “Now children, it is getting late, and the three of you still have classes in the morning….”

“Wait, three of you?” Jay repeats, and Fairy Godmother blinks at him slowly.

“Yes, Jay,” she says. “Carlos, Mal and Evie will still continue their classes while you remain here to heal.”

“Excuse me?” he mutters, glaring at her, and she looks startled at his dark tone.

“You do still have severe injuries, Jay,” she says softly. “Despite our magic, we can only do so much. You will be staying here for at least the remainder of the week.”

“This is bullshit!” Jay snarls, ignoring Mal’s fierce glare. “You think I haven’t had broken bones before? I’ve had worse than this when I was 12, but I still went out and stole for Jafar’s shop.”

The look on the Fairy Godmother’s face made him pause, and he cast his eyes to the ceiling as he tried to figure out what he had said wrong. Then it hits him, and he shifts his weight again, gripping the crutch tightly.

“I meant…my Dad’s…shop,” he tries to correct lamely, but she still was staring at him strangely, and it was starting to get really annoying.

“What could possibly…” Fairy Godmother starts to say, then she seems to catch herself, as well, and shakes her head. “Regardless of what may have happened in the past, it is against school policy to release a student from the infirmary less than 48 hours after a major injury. 24 for a minor one,” she adds, almost to herself. “But of course, given the circumstances and the extent of your injuries, the rest of the week is perfectly acceptable.”

“Fucking bull,” Jay growls again, resentment coloring his tone.

“Hey if you’re so eager for homework, I’ll make sure to bring it to you after class,” Mal mutters, and though her words are a joke, he can tell from her tone that she's just as upset about the arrangement as he is.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Mal,” Fairy Godmother praises. “Of course you’ll be allowed to visit after class.”

“And it’s only a few more days,” Evie tries to encourage. “Don’t worry, we won’t get into trouble without you.” She winks at him, and Jay can’t help but grin back, feeling some of his nerves lessening.

“W-w-who knows?” He hears Carlos say, and Jay turns to see that the other boy had shoved himself away from his bed and was already heading for the door. “Maybe we’ll even enjoy ourselves.”

Jay flinches at the dark look in Carlos's eyes as he stares at him, and he doesn't miss the meaning in the boy’s words. The Fairy Godmother seems to miss it entirely, however, as she smiles and says:

“That’s the spirit, Carlos!”

Evie gives Jay a knowing look, and nods her head in Carlos’ direction, the younger boy having made it to the door, and was shifting his weight anxiously back and forth. “We’ll talk to him,” she says softly. “He’ll come around.”

“Yeah, maybe by the time we’ve graduated,” Jay mutters back, and Evie purses her lips.

“I’ll talk to him,” she repeats, before making her way over to the door as well.

“Alright then,” Fairy Godmother says cheerfully. “The Dining Hall is just finishing clearing up now, so let’s get you three down and get you something to eat before curfew. And don’t worry, Jay,” she adds quickly. “The fairies will get you back to your room and bring you something to eat too.”

“I can find my own way back,” Jay grumbles, but he’s relieved at least to hear that food would actually be brought to him.

“Please,” Mal scoffs at him, rolling her eyes. “Like you’re not thrilled about skipping classes and basically being waited on.”

“Well when you put it that way,” Jay muses, smirking at her. “I could get used to it.”

“And like Evie said, we won’t get into any trouble without you,” her eyes sparkle a lighter shade of green, and Jay almost wants to laugh, but controls himself with Fairy Godmother present.

“If you do,” he advises. “Make sure you do it with some of my special flair; at least my presence will still be felt.”

Mal snorts and shakes her head. “Yeah, I’ll leave the ‘flair’ for Carlos.”

“Um, exc-use me?” Carlos protests; and although he laughs as they all file out the door, Jay can’t help but feel a slight twinge in his chest. And he’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with the broken ribs.

Audrey

“What are you thinking, babe?” Audrey asks as she watches Ben carefully. They were back in his room, but this time he wasn’t pacing a frantic hole in the carpet. She sat on the foot of his bed, poking at his feet, while he lay flat on his back on top of the sheets, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The light from the bedside lamp illuminated their half of the room, throwing shadows across his face and darkening his expression.

“You know what I’m thinking,” Ben mumbles, barely even blinking as he adjusts his feet away from her reach.

“I can’t read your mind,” Audrey teases lightly. “Last I checked, I didn’t have any magical abilities.”

“I get it,” Ben huffs, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I screwed up. You don’t have to keep reminding me. Dad does that enough already.”

Audrey sighs, and shifts her body a little closer. Not too close, of course. But close enough that Ben actually lifted his head an inch to look at her.

“I don’t think you screwed up, Ben,” she says quietly, and he makes a scoff that sounds almost like a growl before flopping back down dramatically.

“You do,” he insists. “You’re just too perfect to admit it.”

“Hm,” Audrey hums, frowning exaggeratedly. “Perfect and can read minds. Two out of three, then.”

“Stop,” Ben groans. “You’re not helping.”

“Well what would you like me to do then, Ben?” she snaps, a little harsher than intended. “And yes, I am aware of what I just said. What do you want me to say? That I think you were wrong and should send them all back to the Isle? That you never should have tried this in the first place? That absolutely no good could come from…”

“Ok, ok,” Ben protests, sitting up sharply and glaring at her. “I get it.”

“But you don’t, clearly,” Audrey continues, not backing down. “If you want to know what I think, then here it is: I think you need to stop being a whiny prince and actually do something for once.”

“Um, ow,” Ben says, his blue eyes wide as he blinks at her.

“I love you, Ben, you know that,” Audrey says gently, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “But I think you need to learn to take charge of things. You’re going to be King in a few months, and you can’t keep going through it the way you are now.”

“Still kind of ow,” Ben murmurs, his brow furrowing slightly. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re kind of failing.”

“I’m trying to make you understand,” Audrey sighs, leaning forward to try and make him see her better. Hear her. “You made your decree thinking that you could bring some children over from the Isle; that an experience in Auradon would somehow magically make things ok. We’d bring them over, give them food and maybe sing a few songs and we’d all learn from each other and it’d be some great coming-of-age thing.”

“I knew something was missing,” Ben replies meekly. “I told Doug we should be singing….”

“Ben,” Audrey deadpans, and he sighs, bringing his gaze up to meet hers.

“I’m sorry,” he says, twisting his hand out of her grip and clenching it against the sheets. “You’re right, as always. About all of it. About…about me.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” she repeats steadily, refusing to let him wallow again. “But you have to think of it from their perspective. From the VK’s perspective, Auradon abandoned them…worse, threw them away…and the only reason they’re being treated well now is as part of some political move by the prince.”

“What? I don’t…politics?”

Audrey has to stifle a laugh as Ben’s face screws up, and it’s adorable because it’s like he can’t tell whether to be confused or offended, but his face tries to convey both at once.

“And what’s V K?” he adds with a frown.

This time, Audrey does laugh, shifting a little closer to him in her excitement. “You like that?” she asks with a grin. “Lonnie and I came up with it…well, mostly Lonnie. It’s short for ‘villain kid.’”

“That’s…actually pretty clever,” Ben admits, and Audrey smiles a little wider.

“I’ll be sure to let her know you approve.”

“Ok, but catchy acronyms aside, what did you mean by politics? Cuz anyone who knows me knows I don’t really do politics.”

Audrey sighs, suddenly regretting having to be the voice of reason. She wouldn’t have minded some more lighthearted teasing.

“Yes, well they don’t know that. Best case scenario is that you’re doing it as some scheme to make yourself look good to the rest of Auradon.”

“That sounds pretty bad to me,” Ben says slowly, and Audrey purses her lips, thinking back to the few interactions she had seen with the VKs; how they seemed to reject the very idea of any softness or kind gestures. It was something she definitely needed to talk with them about, that is, if they ever gave her the chance.

“I think,” she begins softly. “I think for them, worst would be because you actually care.”

“But…but I do care,” he murmurs, and Audrey sighs sympathetically, offering a grim sort of smile.

“Then you’re going to have to prove it,” she says. “This was your idea, for better or worse. So now you need to start making things better.”

“And what if I can’t?” he asks, his brow furrowing worriedly. “What if I really am just as naïve and clueless as they all think I am?”

“You? Clueless?” Audrey scoffs, feigning offense. “Never!”

He manages a laugh this time, and when she leans over to kiss him, their shadows blend together on the wall so it’s impossible to tell where one begins and the other ends.

Carlos

“Sso you’re not gonna turn into a dr-dr-dragon or anything, right?”

“Shut up Carlos.”

“Ju-just checking.”

Carlos sat on his bed, fiddling with the main part of his project. He’d managed to find a small torch from the Auradon workshop, and had successfully seared a minuscule hole into the top of the metal box. With any luck, he’d be able to get a wire through and redirect currents through it. His other project wasn’t going nearly as well, being comprised mostly of junk and spare foil wrappers from the Isle. He was thinking he might just end up scrapping it and starting over, maybe smuggle some working parts from the workshop.

“I can’t believe you actually bit Chad!” Mal snarls, and Carlos rummages through his kit, trying not to meet the fire in her eyes.

“I can,” Evie says from J-- from the other bed. “Remember that time in detention? And Leroux had….”

“Don’t,” Carlos warns, a shudder going through his body before he could stop it. Evie might have thought it funny, but that was only because she hadn’t been there for what had come before. She hadn’t heard Leroux’s comments, or seen the looks. But Carlos had. So had Mal, but that was a different matter entirely.

“What happened to sticking together and just trying to survive?” Mal continues, and Carlos bites his lip, averting his eyes and twisting another gear into place.

“I think you’re being a bit overdramatic, M,” Evie murmurs, and Mal whirls furiously on her heel.

“I’m sorry if my being worried offends you, princess.”

Woah. Carlos snaps his head up, eyes wide, his project falling to his lap. He darts an anxious glance over to Evie, to see that the other girl looks equally stunned, but it’s already threatening to dissolve into something more emotional. He’d heard the nasty comments some of the girls had made when they’d first arrived; how Evie was nothing to them, and any titles she may have had were stripped because of the Isle.

Mal obviously realizes her mistake, her anger melting away as her body goes rigid, her eyes closing in a grimace.

“Fuck,” she hisses through her teeth, her eyes opening and focusing on Evie. “E, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“Yes you did,” Evie counters with a tight smile, her voice wavering slightly. “But it’s ok.”

“It’s not, though,” Mal persists, taking a step like she were going to start pacing again, then pausing. “Everything is not ok. We still don’t have any plan for the wand, Jay is gone, and pretty much every adult is screwing us over in some way or another…”

She stops suddenly, clenching her jaw tightly. Carlos swallows hard against his own emotions, hating that her found himself agreeing with her. Especially…damn.

“Mal,” Evie whispers, and Carlos blinks, looking up again while his fingers probe mindlessly at his project. “It’s going to be ok. Jay is fine; for once he’s actually in good hands. We’ll figure things out for the wand, and as for the rest-”

Something wicked flashes through the other girl’s eyes, her head turning to catch Carlos’ gaze. He straightens, a small smirk of his own flickering across his face.

“How does another trip to the lab sound?” Evie asks, and Carlos grins a little wider.

“T-tell me wwhen.”

“Ok…now stir until it turns blue,” Evie instructs, her attention fixed on the page in Mal’s spell book.

Carlos frowns at the ‘cauldron,’ stirring the definitely-not-blue potion. “Is it ssuposed to be sm-smoking like that?”

“Yes,” Evie says, her eyes barely glancing in his direction. “Wait…yeah, it’s fine. Good, actually.”

“It’s not blue,” Mal chimes in a helpful deadpan from her place at the door.

Carlos scowls at her, but he can’t help but echo her lackluster thoughts. The thrill of the successful potion was starting to wear off, and he had a suspicion he knew exactly why. He grips the glass a bit tighter in his hands, stirring with vigor as he imagines that the cauldron is Jay’s face, and the potion bubbles energetically, the liquid shimmering a very faint color.

“E-evie!” he chokes out, stunned. “It’s blue!”

Evie squeals silently, almost scattering the remaining ingredients in her haste to rush over. Even Mal curses appreciatively, and Carlos finds himself tensing in anticipation of Jay’s response. Only to realize once again, that the other boy was not with them and so he had no need to fear a ‘friendly’ punch or a rough ruffling of his hair. He doesn’t like it. He likes it even less that he actually cares, and focuses back on the potion as Evie starts gushing enthusiastically.

“…we need now is the final steps from you Carlos,” she says, and Carlos groans slightly, dropping the stirring stick.

“D-don’t tell me I have to ssing,” he mumbles, and Evie laughs quietly.

“No you don’t have to sing,” she says.

‘As if you could,’ says a voice that sounds too much like someone else’s. ‘It would probably come out like you’re rapping or something.’

Carlos frowns, and almost fires back a retort, but then he notices Evie is staring at him expectantly, and realizes he’s completely missed her instructions.

“Ssorry,” he mumbles, and she rolls her eyes with a sigh.

“I said,” she repeats. “You just have to talk for a bit.”

“W-w-what do I ssay?” Carlos asks, ducking his head. Suddenly he’s aware of just how much he trips over his words, just how bad his stupid stutter really was.

“Anything,” Evie replies, seeming not to notice his discomfort. “I’ll stir, to keep it bubbling, but you just talk.”

“W-w-will it ssteal my voice?” he squeaks, and the voice snorts out a laugh in the back of his mind.

‘Probably end up doing yourself a favor,’ it chuckles. ‘Can’t trip if you can’t talk, right?’

“Not this one,” Evie assures proudly. “I modified it, so it won’t steal your voice, only copy it.”

“And Kropp?” Mal asks, her eyes still on the door though her body is fixed on them. “What’ll it do to him?”

“Carlos will talk into the potion now, and it’ll copy his voice,” Evie explains, reading from the book as she goes. “The potion itself will act as a vessel, so when Kropp drinks it, his own voice will mute, and Carlos’ will take its place.”

“Won’t that instantly tip him off as to who did it?” Mal scowls, her head turning to glare at Evie, who shakes her head.

“Nope,” she says, still with that proud tone. “It’ll still be Kropp’s own voice talking, but just with Carlos’ borrowed stutter.”

“Ooh!” Carlos gasps, straightening in realization.

“That’s pretty awesome, E,” Mal praises, and Evie beams a little more.

“But that’s not even the best part,” she says, leaning across the table to stare intently at him. “While the potion is in effect, your stutter will be transferred to Kropp, so…”

“Sso I’ll be a-able to talk?” Carlos finishes, completely stunned. “R-really?”

“Really,” Evie confirms with a nod.

“Damn, Evie,” Mal mutters. “That’s…that’s just wow.”

“I know, right?” Evie replies, before composing herself quickly, grabbing the stirring stick from where it had fallen on the table. “Now, Carlos, start talking.”

It was a few hours later, and after several recitations of ‘She sells sea-shells by the sea shore,’ and, ‘Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,’ and, ‘How now brown cow?’ and ‘Why is a raven like a writing desk?’ plus any other number of words and rhymes and stories for Carlos to recite; he was exhausted.

Evie had declared the potion a success, and so now the only thing to do was find a way to slip it into Kropp’s drink of choice. That would be Carlos’ job, and he figured breakfast might be a good time to scope things out and see if he could find where Kropp sat with the other teachers. Carlos couldn’t deny that he was thrilled, and the thought of getting revenge- of actually being able to talk!- was the only thing filling his mind.

He was so caught up in it, that he almost didn’t notice they were back at the dorms until the girls stopped at the door. Carlos blinks, bringing his eyes up and frowning when he doesn’t recognize the number at the top. Then his eyes adjust, and his frown deepens as he glances questioningly to Mal and Evie. He starts to sign, remembering the lateness of the hour and just where they were, but Evie cuts across him, her voice a sympathetic whisper as she opens the door.

“We thought…with Jay still in the infirmary, you might feel more comfortable sleeping with us.”

He starts to scoff, then a retort slips into his mouth before the sound could come out and he ends up choking. By the time he’s finished silently drowning and the words actually start to form, Mal had already shut the door behind him and turned on the light.

“F-f-f-fine,” Carlos all but spits, and Mal snorts at his attempt.

“Pick a bed,” she tells him, tugging her jacket off. “Just not mine.”

“Nno,” Carlos hisses, backing towards the door. “I meant I’m f-fine. I can ssleep in my own ro-room.”

“You sure?” Evie asks, her brow furrowing. “Because we have plenty of room, and you can’t possible snore worse than Mal.”

“Um, excuse me?” Mal retorts, her eyes lighting green, seeming without her noticing.

“You do snore,” Evie replies easily, tugging off her shoes and placing them neatly beside her bed. “Just because you have the blood of a dragon doesn’t mean you have to sleep like one.”

“I do not…”

“Guys!” Carlos snaps impatiently. “I’m not a little k…id. I can ssleep in my own room,” he repeats.

“By yourself,” Mal seems all too happy twisting the knife. “Completely alone. Without Jay or any of us there.”

“I’ve sslept by myself before,” he grumbles, just short of an actual growl. “And I didn’t al-al-always have you.”

“I mean, true but, ever since you have had us…”

“I’ll be f-fine,” he retorts, cutting Mal off. “Ssee you in the mmorning.”

“Goodnight,” Evie offers, but he’s already twisting the doorknob, yanking open the door and doing his best not to slam it in his haste to get out of the room.

It was too stifling, the room, Mal, Evie. He just needed to get back to his room…get back his room and….

Carlos blinks, shaking his head hard to clear it. It was stupid just how much he was letting this affect him. But it was affecting him, and he swallows against the tightness that threatens to choke off his air. He was fine, he wasn’t going to freak out again. He just needed to get back to his room and he would be fine.

He takes a step, and wonders if Jane was right, if he really should do theatre. After all, he was so good at making faces he could actually make himself believe in them too.

Beast

It’s not often that the King of Auadon lets his anger get the better of him, his days as a beast serving as a painful reminder of what would happen if he lost control of himself in such a way. But given the recent circumstances (and the other, actual reminder of the aforementioned beastliness) it was no small wonder that one could find the King pacing a rather furious circle before the fireplace in one of his castle’s smaller entertaining rooms.

“The nerve of that boy!” he snarls, turning a sharp corner and tramping back over the carpet. “I knew there was a reason I hadn’t wanted him included in meetings.”

Never mind the fact that he also refused to acknowledge the Arabian lad as anything even resembling royalty.

“To accuse us in such a way,” the King continues vehemently. “Not to mention the villains themselves! If it were up to me, I’d have them all sent back to the Isle immediately, good will aside….”

It occurs to him somewhere between when he stops for breath and when he turns another furious corner, that his usual voice of reason and calm had been suspiciously silent. He turns, slower this time, to the chair set at an angle just off of the fireplace, and frowns at the pensive look on his wife’s face.

“Belle?” he asks, his voice gruff and low with concern.

She blinks, but doesn’t meet his eyes, instead staring into the fireplace as she speaks. “Do you remember the deer?”

Her voice is soft, and barely carries farther than her lips, but he’s able to hear her anyway. Some things yet remained from his curse; blessings on some days and…curses on the others. But he’s able to hear, not just her words, but the way her voice breaks ever so slightly on the word ‘deer.’

It brings him up short, and he finds himself taking a half step closer to her, his fury fading ever so slightly as he tries to understand.

“I don’t…” he begins, but she speaks again, her eyes still on the dancing flames.

“The deer,” she repeats quietly, and there’s that small break again. “That day, in the beginning. When we first…met.”

She’s being delicate, dancing around him with her words, and he hates it when she does that. It means he’s lost himself again, that he’d returned enough to his beastly ways that she felt she had to tiptoe around him, that fear that lingered softly in the back of her mind, and in the pit of his stomach. That dreadful ‘what if?’ that seemed to hinge on every move.

But her words are what hit him, their meaning not lost on him even if he were closer to beast than man. ‘When we first met.’ When she’d been nothing more to him than a prisoner, something for him to use and break. When he was still a beast.

He hadn’t been lying, back in the conference room. He couldn’t remember, or at least, he refused to remember- what it had been like before. Before Belle; or rather, before he had opened himself up to her. Anything before that was just a dark spot in his memory, a forbidden East Wing that yielded nothing but horror.

So when Belle said, ‘do you remember the deer?’ he had to keep himself from cringing back as his memories thrust dark and grisly images at him, rattling doors that shouldn’t be opened.

“No,” he finally manages thickly. “I don’t remember a deer.”

She hums softly, but it’s not a cheerful sound, and to hear something so unpleasant come from her is far more startling than his own warped mind.

“It was before,” she says. “Mrs. Potts and the others had just finished making me a rather illicit meal and were taking me to my room.”

She pauses in thought, and he can’t help but wince. He remembered some of it, at least. How he’d threatened to keep her from eating…how he had kept her from eating. He’d always assumed, when she clearly hadn’t wasted away to nothing, that his servants must have been giving her something, but to hear her bring it up now; it made him want to hide away from himself; to forget that he’d ever been that way.

“Anyway,” she says, and he forces himself to look at her again, to not remember even though she was forcing him to. “We were just coming down the stairs, and suddenly a door bangs open and there you were…with a deer.”

It hits him then, almost like a physical slap across the face, and he’s suddenly in the moment again. His fur is thick and matted, itchy around his neck where his cloak had been twisted around his shoulder. He has something, in his claws, across his back. There’s a savory, metallic taste on his tongue. And a girl…eyes as wide as the creature he’d just dragged in…staring at him in something like realization, but which a part of him knows must be horror….

“Why,” he rasps, then he clears his throat and tries again. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

“Because I think...,” and then she stops again, her lips pressing tightly together and her eyes flickering to his for just a second. And then she continues, and she’s dancing again, spinning circles and just out of reach. “It never really occurred to me until then to see you as a beast. You were the beast, and you were a beast, but it never struck me until then that you were…what you were.”

“Belle?” he asks again, almost pleading with her to make sense. To really speak to him.

“Aladdin was right,” she says, meeting his eyes fully, a firm expression on her face that is heightened by the fire that splashes across her cheeks and jaw. “We’ve forgotten who we are, and who were are involves people who…who threw others away like trash and left them to rot.”

He wants to retort, but he can’t. The memory is still too raw, too fresh and new in his mind. He almost regrets asking her to stop dancing with her words; he almost wants to ask her to dance. To just forget it all and just be, for a little while. But he can’t, because she’s right. Because he is still a beast, despite his human form. Because he remembered the deer.

“They’re villains, Belle,” he tries, weakly. It only makes the fire flash brighter, and he realizes that it’s not just the physical fire; it’s the one in her eyes.

“And you were a beast,” she replies. Not arguing, stating. “You were a beast and how could I not have seen? Not have realized that of course, given the environment and just how ingrained it was in your nature; of course there would have been…deer.”

He winces again, because he realizes now what this is. What he is, and what the deer really means to her in this moment.

“What sort of environment have we sacrificed those children to?” she whispers hoarsely, and he can almost smell the salt of her tears, even from here. “What have we done? What have we left them to experience…what have they experienced that even here in Auradon they can’t escape?”

He knows that she’s crying now, even before her body starts to shake. He knows it because of the burning in his eyes, the way his throat seems to swell with the painful weight of a stone.

“They’re more than just villains, Adam,” Belle manages to get out, and despite her tears her voice is still resolute. “And we need to make sure they know that, too.”

He doesn’t trust his voice, doesn’t trust his own feelings to properly convey everything he wants to say. Instead he just nods mutely, and when he turns to pace again, it’s with a heavier step than before. His thoughts chase each other around restlessly; the knowledge that she was right, but also the deep, instinctive fear of all that could happen if she were wrong.

Chapter Text

Ben

The dorm hallways were moderately busy this time as he approaches two doors. He’d managed to get up early, though Ben suspected that was more to do with his lack of sleep than actual responsibility on his part. He just couldn’t get over how horribly wrong things seemed to be going. Not just with the attacks and the problems in classes; the four themselves just weren’t…right.

Ben lets out a short sigh, which he quickly sucks back in, plastering a smile onto his face and knocking on the nearest door. He’d decided to pick up Carlos first, since the younger boy was alone with Jay in the infirmary. Granted the boy very well could have slept with the girls like he and Jay had that first night, but he figured it didn’t hurt to check.

There was no sound from the other side of the door, and Ben shifts his weight nervously, knocking again a little louder.

“Carlos?” he calls tentatively through the door. “It’s Ben, can I come in?”

Ben thinks he hears some kind of noise, but it takes a moment for a word to be made out, and it’s broken up and only just audible through the wood.

“O-o-o-open.”

He smiles again, and twists the knob, pushing open the door and stepping inside. He nearly trips over a large, tube like device in the doorframe, and Carlos makes a soft noise, scrambling forward on hands and knees to lift the device from under his feet, cradling it carefully to his chest.

“Good morning Carlos,” Ben says with a chuckle. Carlos nods his head jerkily, eyes on the ground as he balances the device in his hands, crossing to the giant closet beside his bed and gently sliding the thing inside.

Only once the door is closed securely on the device does Carlos straighten and turn, offering Ben a careful wave in greeting. He still wasn’t quite meeting his eyes though, and Ben feels a pang of sadness inside as he realizes that things were basically back to square one. He tries not to let it show on his face though, and instead nods his head in the direction of the open door.

“You want to head over and grab the girls? Then we can all head to breakfast together.”

He tries to keep his tone light, and leave the suggestion open for the boy to refuse. But Carlos just nods, and ducks to grab a small bag from under his bed before making his way to the door. Ben goes out first, and Carlos follows behind as they walk the few doors down to Mal and Evie’s room.

The door opens before he can knock, and Evie offers Ben a strained sort of half smile, tossing her hair easily over her shoulder.

“Hi,” she says lightly, but her eyes are on Carlos, and Ben can see the concern in her gaze. “Um, Mal will be right out.”

“I’m here,” Mal’s voice replies, and there she is, suddenly taking over the door with her presence. And she is definitely looking him in the eye, her own gaze sharp and penetrating. “Ben,” she says stiffly.

Ben is reminded of the sparks of magic he had seen last night in the infirmary, and he has to fight not to shudder, to continue meeting Mal’s eyes and appear calm.

“Good morning,” he says, and she curls her lip at him, her eyes instantly shooting to Carlos.

“You up for breakfast?” she asks, and there’s a sort of gentleness in her voice that doesn’t match the death glare she’d given Ben.

Carlos grits his jaw and signs, a blur of gestures that Ben doesn’t pick up, although the last one; a ‘five’ shape with his thumb tapped against his chest; he does know.

[Fine.]

“Alright,” Ben says cheerfully, smiling despite the tense atmosphere. “Let’s head down then.”

He tries to ignore how unsettled he feels, and not hear the harsh whispering behind him. It stops when they reach the dining hall at least, although his nervousness still remains. He turns back to face the three VKs, and offers another careful smile.

“Ok, you guys know how it works, right? Just hop on in line and get what you want.”

“Yeah,” Mal says, and her voice is hard with steel. “We got it, thanks.”

“Ok,” Ben drawls slowly, glancing over to the others. “Well if you guys want a place to sit, you can always join my table. Um, our table,” he amends with a chuckle. “It’s me, Audrey, Jane, Lonnie and Doug, so…”

“We’re good,” Mal snaps, and before Ben could think of anything else to say, she’d stalked towards the buffet, scattering students in her wake.

Evie shook her head, but there was a smile on the other girl’s face as she followed Mal’s lead. Ben stared after them, a little dazed and slightly disappointed.

“Good talk,” he murmurs, and Carlos snorts softly beside him. The other boy’s lips twitch, and Ben turns to him, hopeful.

“My offer still stands,” he says, and Carlos’ not-quite-there smile disappears. “If you want to join us, you can. We’re that middle table there.”

Ben points it out, and Carlos nods once, before walking briskly away after Mal and Evie. Ben sighs, his own smile slipping from his face as he watches him go.

“Right. Ok.”

It was going to be tougher than he thought. He only hoped it wasn’t too late to reserve what damage had been done.

Carlos

“Can you believe him?” Mal snarls, slamming a white carton onto her tray with such force it almost sends the whole thing toppling. “Inviting us to his table; like he’s not just trying to show off or talk about how ‘good’ he is, bringing the poor souls from the Isle and…..”

“Mal. Breathe,” Evie says shortly, and Mal growls instead, shoving aside a student and snatching something warm and yellow from the buffet. Then Mal turns to the student, browsing their tray before snatching a round orange something and tossing it in the air.

“C, catch,” she murmurs, and Carlos only just manages, the thing almost rolling out of his hands.

He frowns at Mal, but she’s not looking at him anymore, moving down the line with Evie in tow. Carlos doubts Mal even knows just how close ‘perfect Ben’ had come to being a perfect stain on the wall. His explosive wasn’t done yet, hadn’t even been primed or charged, but a good kick; like from being tripped over, still could have easily set it off. Maybe would have even taken out the top floor of the dorms, and it would’ve sucked because Carlos would’ve been taken out too and then he’d miss seeing it explode.

He’s jerked out of his thoughts by a laugh, and a pair of feet sliding into his vision.

“Hey there, Freckles. Back at it again I see.”

Carlos blinks, lifting his head to spot a familiar cocky grin, dark hair swept across the forehead, and mischievous, laughing eyes.

“Aziz,” Mal growls, and the Arabian boy laughs again, nodding his head at her and Evie.

“Good morning ladies,” he croons smoothly, ignoring Mal’s glare and turning back to Carlos. “So,” he says. “I went and visited Jay this morning.”

Both Evie and Mal give shocked gasps, while Carlos fights the clenching of his stomach and heart. He keeps his face carefully blank, but he’s almost certain Aziz can tell it’s fake.

“Yeah,” the other boy says. “Apparently he’s been giving the fairies a hard time, not wanting to rest and recover like he’s supposed to.”

That’s Jay, Carlos thinks miserably. Never doing what he’s supposed to.

“What were you doing visiting Jay?” Mal grumbles, and Carlos doesn’t miss the threat in her tone. Aziz doesn’t either, but he simply blinks a moment before shrugging it off easily.

“What can I say? The guy’s grown on me.”

Like mold, Carlos interjects mentally. A stupid, slimy bit of mold that you somehow get attached to even when you know you’re supposed to hate it.

“Right,” Mal retorts. “Like I’d believe that from the guy who’s his sworn enemy.”

“Enemy?” Aziz gasps, placing a hand to his chest. “I’d never! I consider him more my…friendly rival, or even a long lost evil twin. He’s great.”

“Well,” Mal says tensely. “It’s so great that you two are such good friends.”

Carlos shuffles his weight nervously, wishing he had some way to escape the conversation. He hated this, hated all of this. He hated that Jay wasn’t there, hated how Mal kept hovering, how Evie kept giving him sideways looks like she expected him to start breaking things, or worse breaking down. He just needed it all to stop, to just get away and…

“Anyway,” Aziz drawls, carefully edging away from Mal’s now green-eyed glare. “I came over in part by his request, Carlos. He wanted me to make sure that if you pissed off that biology teacher of yours again to record it somehow so he could see. Lonnie showed me the pictures and I kinda want you to record it too.”

Carlos feels a tentative smile creeping onto his face, and he actually exchanges a sort of laughing glance with the other boy. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, and things could actually be good here. That Aziz seemed actually genuine in his talk of his Jay’s relationship, how the other boy was equally ready with a laugh or a joke. How he didn’t pry, even when it was obvious that Jay’s message was clearly just the Isle boy’s way of checking up on Carlos. Even though Carlos had pushed him away, he was still making sure he was ok, and Carlos was finding his resolve weakening.

Then Mal’s voice cuts in and shatters his forgiving and optimistic thoughts.

“Well,” she say tightly. “There won’t need to be any recording because we’re all just keeping our heads down for now. Right Carlos?”

“R-right,” Carlos says, his voice clipped with barely concealed anger.

“Well hey,” Aziz says. “If you guys want to keep your heads down with company, you should come and join the table. I promise we won’t bite.”

And he winks at Carlos, who actually feels a laugh bubbling in his throat that he has to swallow to keep it from becoming audible. He thinks, fleetingly, that there should be more danger being presented here, that surely it couldn’t be this easy. And of course…it wasn’t.

“Thanks,” It’s Evie this time, and though the girl’s voice is much more light and open than Mal’s, there’s still something testy there. “But we’re fine where we are.”

“Appreciate the offer,” Mal mutters, not even glancing back as she starts away, towards the corner table Carlos had found that first day. “Come on guys.”

And that did it. Carlos straightens, hefting his bag a little higher on his shoulder. He’s not sure where his sudden ballsiness was coming from, but he grabs the most edible looking thing off the buffet, slides a carton of something onto his tray and turns to Aziz.

“I-I-I-I’m in.”

Carlos’ voice isn’t as loud or as firm as he wants it to be, but he knows he’s been heard when Aziz grins broadly, and Evie gasps behind him.

“Carlos!” she hisses sharply, and there’s a soft squeak that he knows is Mal’s shoes on the fake wood/rubber floor. bite

“Wwhat?” he snaps, and the firmness he’d been looking for earlier was now very much there.

Mal has turned around now, and Carlos thinks the only reason she hasn’t torched him where he stood was because she seemed confused as to why he was still standing by Aziz.

“What are you doing, Carlos?” Mal asks, and Carlos bristles at the tone in her voice; that threatening-worried thing she only did for him. When she was trying to control him but be subtle at the same time.

He straightens and presses his lips tightly together, gripping his tray tightly to keep his hands from shaking, though he knows better than to hope for the same with his voice.

“I’m going wwith him,” he says. “To-to-to the table.”

Mal’s face twitches, her head cocking slightly to the left. “What?”

“Mal,” Evie murmurs softly, her eyes flicking pointedly in Aziz’s direction. Mal grits her jaw, her face twisting into something cold and fierce, and Carlos tightens his own expression, letting his mask take over his usually soft features.

He could see the surprise cross through her eyes at his challenge; he was surprised himself. He had never once deliberately gone against the group or challenged Mals’ authority, and here he was doing both at the same time. And all because of this stupid trip to Auradon. Or maybe, not so stupid.

“You guys are more than welcome to come,” Aziz says, noticing the tension and yet still somehow managing to smile at them. “There’s plenty of room and I’m sure…”

“I’d rather die,” Mal deadpans, but she’s glaring at Carlos, and he doesn’t miss her not-so-subtle threat.

“Thank you for the invitation,” Evie says, a little more civilly. “But we’re fine where we are.”

I’m not, Carlos thinks, meeting Mal’s gaze despite the death threats. I wanted more from Auradon, and I think I’m gonna get it, wand or no wand.

“Alright then,” Aziz says. “Well if you change your minds…”

“We won’t,” Mal promises, and Carlos tilts his head ever so slightly to her as he shifts his body away and towards Aziz.

Neither will I.

“Ok,” Aziz says, clapping his hands together and grinning at Carlos as Mal and Evie turn and depart for the corner table. “Let’s head on over.”

Carlos nods, but he can’t help but grip his tray even tighter, biting the inside of his cheek as he follows Aziz across the dining hall. He knows there’s eyes on him, he can hear the whispers, and though he tries to stay focused on Aziz’s back in front of him, he can’t help but wonder if he’d really made the right decision.

And then suddenly he’s standing in front of the table, and there’s all new eyes on him and he’s certain that this was a mistake. Then Aziz places a hand on his shoulder, and the shock of the contact is enough to jerk him out of his head.

“Guys,” Aziz says lightly. “I’m sure you all know Carlos. He’s gonna be joining us for breakfast.”

Audrey

The last thing Audrey was expecting that morning was another encounter with one of the VKs. And yet, there was Aziz with the mother of all sly grins, and a casual hand on the shoulder of none other than Carlos de Vil.

“Guys,” Aziz says, and Audrey isn’t sure how to interpret his easy tone. “I’m sure you all know Carlos. He’s gonna be joining us for breakfast.”

Audrey blinks in shock, and she glances sharply over at Ben to see that he’s just as caught off guard as she is. Even though it had been his idea to invite the VKs to their table, she can tell he hadn’t thought any of them would accept. A quick glance around the table reveals that everyone else seemed to feel similarly, although strangely enough it’s Jane who recovers first, the youngest of their group actually smiling.

“Really?” she says, and Audrey looks back to see Aziz nod enthusiastically.

“Yeah really,” the other boy replies. “But I’m actually going to duck out and see if I can find Nikki. I might have promised him a breakfast date.”

“Wait so you’re just going to leave us with…Carlos?” Doug squeaks, and Jane shoots the half-dwarf a dark look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snaps, and Audrey blinks at the other girl’s outrage.

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Doug protests. “It’s a valid concern!”

“It’s stupid and offensive,” Jane retorts, and Lonnie chuckles, offering Carlos a sly smile of her own.

“I assume Janey’s sudden attitude change has something to do with you,” she says. “In which case I’ll say it’s about time, and thanks for that.”

“Lonnie!” Jane hisses, blushing furiously.

“What?” the other girl replies with a shrug. “It’s true. And anyway, he’s just hovering all weird and it’s making me nervous so just…sit down, ok de Vil?”

She says it all in a casual rush, so even Audrey doesn’t catch the invitation at the end until Carlos himself does. The boy starts, and his eyes flicker nervously around the table before he glances questioningly back at Lonnie.

“I-it’s ok?” he asks softly, and Audrey lifts her brows slightly as she catches his stutter. She’d heard about it, of course, but she had never heard it herself. It’s soft, but there, and she sees Doug straighten as well, surprise flickering clearly across the other boy’s features.

“Well I invited you, didn’t I?” Aziz replies lightly, though his head is turned and his eyes roam the cafeteria anxiously.

“Actually,” Ben says, finally finding his voice. “I did.”

“See there you go,” Aziz says with a quick laugh. “The Golden Boy himself invited you so it’s definitely ok. Now if you guys don’t mind…”

“Yeah yeah,” Lonnie sighs, making a face at him. “Go find your boyfriend.”

“Shut up,” Aziz snaps, making a face back. “You’re just jealous cuz you’re not getting any.”

“An-an-any what?” Carlos whispers, and the table freezes, panicked and guilty glances exchanged all around.

“And on that note,” Ben cries, lifting his hands. “I’m no longer hungry.”

“I bet Aziz is,” Lonnie mutters cheekily, an almost wicked grin on the other girl’s face.

“Lonnie,” Audrey cries, horrified, reaching over to pat Doug on the back as he starts to choke.

“I swear, I’ll murder you,” Aziz says, glaring, though Audrey doesn’t miss the slight flush of the boy’s cheeks.

“Carlos,” Jane chimes in. “Just come sit by me.”

“O-ok,” he whispers, and Audrey can’t help but notice that he wasn’t looking any of them in the eyes. He crosses carefully around the table and slides over the bench, placing his bag under his feet. “Wh-what was that…?” he mumbles to Jane, and the other girl shakes her head sharply.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says quickly.

“B-but…”

“Trust me,” Jane interrupts. “You don’t want to know.”

“How do you know Janey?” Lonnie asks slyly, and Jane casts a glare over at the other girl.

“A certain perverted daughter of a Chinese warrior.”

“Oh come on,” Lonnie protests with a laugh. “I’m not that bad!”

“Not that bad?” Doug retorts. “Like that time you told us about how you’d….”

“Ok we don’t need details, we do not need details!” Jane cries, covering her ears and going pale.

“Not while we’re eating, please,” Ben agrees.

“Wimps,” Lonnie scoffs cheerfully, and Audrey shakes her head, turning her attention back to her granola.

“W-wait, boyfriend?”

Audrey glances up to see Carlos frowning in the direction that Aziz had gone, his brow furrowed in confusion. Or was that worry?

“That’s a thing hhere?” he continues, and Doug lifts a brow at him.

“Yeah,” the dwarf boy answers sharply. “Why, you got a problem with it?”

“Doug,” Ben scolds, and Doug spreads his hands innocently.

“What?” he replies.

“You’re being a little harsh,” Audrey offers, and Doug frowns, but he leans back in his chair from Carlos, much more non-threatening than before.

“I just meant,” Carlos says slowly, his eyes on his tray now. “I mmean, I wa-wasn’t sure…that’s allowed here?”

Audrey blinks, and exchanges a glance with Ben. She can see her own concern reflected in his eyes, but it’s him who speaks up.

“What do you mean ‘allowed?’”

Carlos blinks then, his head snapping up and catching her eyes first. Then he seems to notice the rest of the table staring at him, and goes a little pale.

“Nnothing,” he says quickly, shaking his head and dropping his eyes to his tray again. “I didn’t mean an-anything.”

Audrey wants to press; to ask what he had truly meant; what about the idea of Aziz having a boyfriend seemed to bother him. To question what the Isle was truly like. But she bites her tongue, and lets it be, watching Jane slip her hand in Carlos.’

An awkward and tense silence settles over the table, and Audrey lifts another spoonful of granola to her lips, trying to ignore the conflicting feelings inside her. Doug doesn’t take his eyes off Carlos, and Lonnie is still frowning, though, all things considered, Audrey isn’t quite surprised on that regard.

She is however, surprised when Carlos picks the orange up off of his tray and bites into it, peel and all. He makes a face, but doesn’t spit it out; instead he continues chewing a moment before swallowing, and he glares at the fruit like it’s offended him.

“Carlos,” Jane says, though the girl is laughing softly. “That’s not how you eat an orange!”

“I didn’t kn-know it wwas an or-ange,” he mutters, still frowning at the fruit.

“How could you not know?” Doug retorts. “It’s an orange. It’s literally orange.”

“The only ones I’ve sseen are g-green,” Carlos replies softly, not meeting Doug’s eyes. “Or-or-or they have wwhite sspots.”

Audrey is suddenly no longer interested in her granola, and Lonnie gags in a slightly over-exaggerated way. Even Doug looks a little green, as he stares at the fruit in Carlos’ hands and whispers:

“Green? White spots?”

“Is it not ssupposed to?” Carlos asks, and he actually looks up this time, but he’s looking at Jane.

“No,” she murmurs, taking the fruit from his hands and beginning to peel it for him. “They’re supposed to be orange like this, and you don’t eat the skin. You peel it.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, taking the now peeled fruit back from her and staring at it. “It’s only ever been ssoft. We al-always just b-bit through the peel.”

Audrey tries not to let the connotations of his words get to her, but there’s really no way to ignore it. The fruit had been so rotten that the peel could actually be bitten through; so rotten in fact, that at times there was even mold growing on it. And yet, Carlos talked about eating moldy food as if…as if it were no big deal.

She clears her throat, if only to distract from the situation. “So Carlos,” she says, and she’s careful to keep her voice light and not too loud. “What are some things you like about Auradon so far?”

“Aside from biting people, of course.” The tease comes from Jane, startlingly enough, although what’s even more startling is that Carlos actually laughs.

“Wwhy does ev-ev-everyone keep asking me that?” he mutters, though his tone is light enough. “It’s nnot like I have a lot of exp-p-p…” he stops short, blushing as the word sticks somewhere between his throat and lips. He draws a slow breath and tries again, talking a little slower than before.

“It’s not like we’ve been hhere long enough to-to-to say wwhat I like,” he finishes, and Audrey notes the way he’d changed his words to fit when he couldn’t say what he’d wanted with his stutter. It’s an interesting coping mechanism, but she finds it’s almost endearing. And resourceful of him.

“Fair enough,” Ben replies, smiling at the other boy. “But there has to be something, right? One thing that’s different from the Isle that you like about Auradon.”

Carlos shrugs, picking at the orange a little more, but not actually eating it. “I guess…I like ha-having a bedroom, e-even if I’m sharing it wwith Jay. But the bed’s too ssoft.”

“Too soft?” Doug blinks, looking moderately put out.

“Wwwell I used to ssleep on the floor at home,” Carlos mutters with another shrug. “It’s just w-weird having something ssoft.”

Silence falls across the table at his words, and Audrey suddenly regrets her questions.

“Well, it’s a good change at least. Right?” Ben asks, and Audrey can see the hope pinching his face, that desperate need for something to be positive out of this.

Carlos frowns, looking unsure, and Ben sinks ever so slightly in his chair. Jane reaches over and gives Carlos’ hand another squeeze, and it seems to make the other boy relax just a bit. Audrey ponders over that, idly stirring her granola further as she watches Jane instruct Carlos how to pull apart and eat an orange. To see Jane- usually so shy and reserved- now suddenly confident, calm and at peace with herself for once. Audrey thinks that maybe that is a good change about the VKs presence.

“So Carlos,” Lonnie breaks the silence next. “You got any more fun surprises planned for biology?”

There’s a sly grin on the Chinese girl’s face, her eyes twinkling mischievously. Doug shakes his head, his attention on the puzzle cube he’d pulled from his bag.

“Yeah I did hear about that,” Ben murmurs, also glancing in Carlos’ direction. “Kropp said something along the lines of you were making fun of him?”

“Ju-just telling him wwhat he wanted to know,” Carlos replies, and though his lips twitch faintly, his eyes are on Doug’s hands as they twist the cube.

There’s a curiosity there, and a longing in his eyes, but he chews his orange instead of speaking up, and Audrey is startlingly not as saddened as she thinks when she sees him nibble at the rind. He had said that food was scarce and not in good quality, but still…it’s painful to see it and be forced to acknowledge the truth of the situation.

Audrey glances over to see that Doug has almost completely matched the colors on his cube, and she sees Carlos lean forward with interest as Doug slides another section of colors into place. Doug frowns, shifting the cube over and revealing the blue side, and Carlos makes a quiet noise of surprise.

Audrey hides a smile, and Jane giggles softly, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound. Doug looks up and frowns as he notices Carlos’ stare, glancing around the table before turning back to meet the other boy’s gaze.

“What?” Doug says, and Carlos blinks, shaking his head quickly.

“N-n-nothing,” he mumbles, biting his lip nervously. Doug’s brows furrow, and he glances back down at his puzzle, sliding another color into place before looking back up to see Carlos hanging on his every move.

“Do…do you want to try it?” Doug offers slowly, and Audrey lifts a brow, surprised. She wouldn’t have thought Doug would make an offer like that, but she can tell that the boy himself is just as surprised.

But Carlos nods anyway, and within moments Doug is explaining how the cube works, and a few more moments and Carlos is shuffling pieces around like he’s done it his whole life. There’s a look of absolute concentration and joy on his face, and Audrey thinks he might just finish the entire puzzle when the bell rings shrilly above them.

Instantly the moment is shattered, as Carlos drops the cube like it had burned him. The look of shock and fear is so strong it almost takes over his entire face, and the sharp gulp of air he takes is one that Audrey instantly recognizes as panic. She straightens in alarm, exchanging a glance with Ben and trying to figure out what to do when Jane takes the initiative; leaning over and placing a gentle -if not tentative- hand to his cheek, the other curling softly around his wrist.

Carlos stiffens at the contact, but Jane doesn’t pull back, doesn’t take offense. She just purses her lips and talks softly, her voice low but firm.

“Hey Carlos,” she says, not breaking eye contact despite the fact that Carlos’ eyes don’t seem to focus on her. “It’s just the bell, nothing to worry about.”

He blinks and nods jerkily, his eyes flickering over the table before seeming to realize that he was being stared at. He blushes, resolutely not making eye contact and slowly pulling away from Jane’s hands.

“I kn-know it’s the b-ell,” he mumbles in a voice that Audrey can only just hear from her place a few feet down. “It just ssurprised me.”

“I’ll say,” Lonnie chimes in, and Carlos’ blush deepens, spreading across his jaw.

“Ssory,” he whispers again, and he carefully reaches over and grabs the puzzle cube, placing it in front of Doug with trembling fingers. “Ssory,” he repeats, almost frantically, seeming to tuck into himself as he draws his arm back. “I-I-I didn’t mean to…”

Audrey frowns, the sudden shift in the boy more than just a little disconcerting. It was almost like…like he was expecting some kind of reprimand for his reaction. And the way he continued even now to apologize in a low tone to Doug, made Audrey pause.

Doug notices it too, and there was something calculating in the dwarf boy’s eyes as he peers through his glasses at Carlos. Audrey knew that look; it was the same look he got when he was working out a particularly challenging equation. A decision of some kind was made, and Doug straightens grabbing the puzzle cube and reaching back over to Carlos.

And here’s where the ‘not right’ solidified itself in Audrey’s mind.

Carlos stiffens, his eyes shutting as a low and quiet noise echoes in his throat. Jane presses her lips together tightly, while Ben straightens and Lonnie’s brow furrows, her lips parting like she wants to say something, but doesn’t know what. Doug, for his part, doesn’t even blink; although Audrey can see the flicker of his eyes that he determinedly masks with a smile.

“Hey,” Doug says, and Carlos’ eyes open, widening in shock at the sight of the cube before him. “It’s fine, I didn’t mind.”

Carlos doesn’t say anything, his eyes darting back and forth between the cube and the hand attached to it, never once lifting his gaze any higher to meet Doug’s face.

“I have to get to class,” Doug continues, still in that casual tone. “But do you want to hang onto the puzzle?”

Instead of smiling, or reacting in any positive way, however, Carlos does the opposite; flinching back and shaking his head vehemently.

“N-n-n-no,” he murmurs, his face twisting as the ‘N’ stuck to his tongue. “I don’t w-want to…it’s yours and I ca-an’t….”

Doug purses his lips, his eyes flickering again before he straightens and pushes the cube a little closer.

“Let me rephrase that,” he says firmly, but not unkindly. “You’re really good at the puzzle and I can tell you like it too, so hang onto it and let me know if you finish it so I can give you another one.”

Then he rises from his seat, gathering up his bag and swinging it over his shoulder before Carlos had a chance to protest. The other boy tries, Audrey notes with a small pang of…something. He stands with them, grabbing the cube only to hand it back out to Doug, who shakes his head with an enigmatic smile.

“Finish it first,” he says. “Then you give it back.”

“I’ll see you guys later then,” Lonnie says, grinning briefly at the stunned Carlos before hurrying off to class.

“Bye Carlos,” Jane offers hastily, squeezing his hand with a quick smile before following after the other girl.

“But,” Carlos whispers, still looking to Doug for confirmation.

Doug shakes his head with a soft sigh, but he still smiles in farewell before leaving. Audrey loops her arm through Ben’s, if only for some reassurance of her own as Carlos stares down at the puzzle in something close to wonder.

“It was nice to actually meet you Carlos,” she says softly. “You should definitely join us again.”

She elbows Ben when it takes him a moment, and he quickly sputters out a reply of his own.

“Yeah,” the other boy blurts with a short, nervous laugh. “And maybe bring Mal and Evie with you next time? And Jay, of course, once he’s out of the infirmary.”

“Ssure,” Carlos murmurs in assent, and he finally manages to bring his head up, an actual smile playing at his lips as his eyes light. “Yeah.”

“Alright,” Ben says, with a much more natural laugh, and as the second bell rings and they part ways, Audrey makes note of the way Carlos’ eyes follow them; sort of longing there, and she vows to find out as much as she could about the Isle. The VKs should have been brought to Auradon ages ago. There was no way to reverse the past, or erase the damage done, but she’d be darned if she didn’t at least try. Her grandmother had taught her that much, at least.

Mal

Mal didn’t know which was worse: seeing Carlos walk willingly off into unfamiliar company- that wasn’t their group- or the nagging realization that they weren’t kids anymore (but honestly, had they ever been?) and that she was going to have to let him…go.

The space between them was more than just a length of tables, and Mal was still feeling that yawning ache even when the bell finally rang. She had jumped up from her seat so fast she’d actually moved the table back an inch, the legs of the circular table skidding in a jarring squeal across the floor.

“Mal,” Evie had muttered disapprovingly, but Mal didn’t give a fuck about being polite.

All that mattered was that everyone was together again, and even though Jay was still painfully absent, she wasn’t about to let Carlos slip through her fingers. Not if she could help it- and she could.

And so it’s even more jarring (so much more jarring than the table) when she rushes over to retrieve him -save him- from the Auradonian group, and sees the dwarf kid give Carlos some kind of colored cube. She tenses, thinking it must be some kind of trap, or weapon or poisonous something- never mind the fact that if the Auradonians had taken away their weapons, why would they have such things of their own. But it’s not fear or panic or anything like that on Carlos’ face: it’s wonder, and joy, and something so painfully open and…innocent. It makes Mal’s stomach churn, in more ways than one.

She’s biting back the bile that rises in her throat at the next moment; the one where everyone is smiling at Carlos, and he’s smiling back, and there’s an invitation being extended but she doesn’t fucking care because he can’t leave them; they can’t take him from her!

“M?”

Evie’s voice brings her back to reality and she swallows hard, setting her face and hardening the ball of emotions inside until she’s steel and cold once more.

“They’re not allowed to have him,” she growls under her breath, glaring at the sweet smiles on Ben and whatever-her-name-was…Andrea or something…’s faces. “I won’t let them take Carlos too.”

“Take him?” Evie chuckles, but Mal can see the flicker in her own eyes as she glances in Carlos’ direction. “Mal, this isn’t the Isle, they can’t….”

“They took Jay,” Mal points out through gritted teeth. “And just because this isn’t the Isle doesn’t mean they can’t….”

“Mal,” Evie cuts in firmly. “Breathe.”

She does, but it’s only to growl out curses as Carlos slowly begins shuffling towards them.

“What happened to wanting good things from this place?” Evie says. “I thought you wanted this…for us to be…happy?”

The words don’t come out right, but that’s because the translation from the instinctive evil to this goodness isn’t so direct. But Mal lets it pass, if only because Carlos is almost to them now and she doesn’t want any denials she made to be heard.

“I do want it,” Mal obliges lowly. “But for us…not them. Not with them.”

And then Carlos is there, and anything Evie has to say is lost beneath Mal’s greeting.

“I see you’ve finally made your way back,” she mutters, her eyes narrowing at the cube in his hands. “Did you have fun with your new friends?”

She spits the word like it’s poison, and Evie hisses her name again in disapproval. But Carlos doesn’t even flinch, although his fingers do grip the cube a little tighter. Instead he straightens, and actually meets her eyes, his own eyes dark and determined as he answers.

“Yeah, ac-ac-actually,” he says lowly, firmly. “I did. They’re pppretty cool.”

“Are they now?” Mal growls, her eyes narrowing despite the way her face lifts in surprise at his boldness.

“They a-re,” Carlos replies evenly, and he holds out the cube for them to inspect. “Dou-dou-doug gave me this,” he says, and there’s something almost like pride in his voice. “It’s a puzzle, and he ga-gave it with no sstrings…no c-catch.”

“Really?” Evie murmurs, and there’s awe and surprise in her voice as she eyes the direction the boy had gone.

“And why would he do that?” Mal snaps, still edgy and not entirely satisfied.

“Be-because he ssaw that I liked it, and he let me try it, and w-hen he ssaw that I was good at it, he let me have it,” Carlos blurts fiercely, and despite the vehemence in his words Mal is definitely taken aback by the significant decrease of the trips in his voice.

She’s impressed, and glad for it, but she also hates it. Because if Carlos wasn’t stuttering as much it meant that he was actually truly relaxed and peaceful. And she can’t have Auradon be a happy place for them, no matter what stupid sentiments she may have confessed. This place was theirs to ruin, not acclimate to! Not get caught up in and…love.

“You know he’s going to want something from you,” Mal grits out, turning dismissively and heading out the doors before her emotions got the better of her. “He’ll take it back eventually.”

She forces herself to keep going; even when Evie sucks a sharp breath behind her and Carlos calls her a ‘b-b-bitch’ under his breath when he thinks she’s out of earshot. Let them hate her for pointing out the truth. It wouldn’t matter in the end, whether they believed her or not. The wand was what they came for, and she was going to get it. No matter how much it hurt.

Jay

He was slowly going insane.

“Ok Jay, that’s good,” the Pink One (he hadn’t bothered to remember any of their names) says, her voice sickeningly sweet and her smile even more annoying than the Fairy Godmother’s. “Now can you move your arm like this for me?”

She lifts her own arm in an exaggerated stretch above her head, and Jay barely stifles his groan as he methodically repeats the gesture, though he does roll his eyes to let her know just how not appreciated this bullshit was.

“Great!” the fairy chirps, not seeming to notice his reluctance. “Now how about like this?”

“Ok,” Jay huffs, sitting up as much as his ribs will allow and leveling the fairies with a look. “I’m pretty sure we all know this is bullshit and that I can move my arm just fine. I don’t need to keep doing these fucking exercises!”

The Blue One splutters soundlessly before darting from the room, and Jay just sighs as the Green One gives him a reproachful look of her own.

“Now Jay,” she begins sternly, and Jay flops back down onto the bed, wincing as his ribs pang at the rough movement. “I understand that you’re frustrated but the exercises really will help. Not only to get your body used to the healing magic, but also to relearn your limits.”

“I don’t fucking need to relearn my limits,” he grumbles to the ceiling. “I need to get the hell out of here.”

And get back to Carlos, a part of him helpfully supplies. Even if he doesn’t accept me back. Jay can’t think of a time where he had ever been separated from the younger boy or the rest of the group for so long. Not just in distance. The only time he could think of was back before they’d been a group, and since then, there hadn’t been a time where he wasn’t with at least one of them constantly.

He’d been tuning out the fairies and their chiding and muttering, so he almost doesn’t register the shift in dialogue until he hears his name.

“…a visitor, Jay,” the Blue One huffs, the door still open behind her from where she’d reentered the room.

“What…?” Jay starts to ask, but his words die on his tongue. Not because he was confused about what she’d said, but that the visitor is…

“Carlos,” he breathes, and the smaller boy lifts his head, a tiny flicker of something tugging at his lips before fading.

“H-hi,” Carlos whispers, and Jay straightens even further on his bed.

“We’ll leave you to it,” the Pink One says in a conspiratorially hiss, and she shoos the other two fairies out with her, the door closing with a soft click and leaving just the two of them.

“Hey,” Jay says, blinking carefully to ensure the boy was really there.

“Hey,” Carlos says again, taking a step into the room, and it’s then that Jay realizes he’s shaking, his hands fidgeting with something small and square down by his waist, and his eyes flickering nervously over the bandages that are visibly wrapping Jay’s torso through the green infirmary gown.

“What’s up?” Jay hedges awkwardly, wishing he had something more to say and wanting nothing more than to fling every apology he has at the other boy.

“N-nothing much,” Carlos mutters, shuffling a little closer. “Just thought I’d v-v-v-visit.”

“Yeah?” Jay says, and he can’t help the hopeful note that creeps into his voice at the thought. “But wait, don’t you have a class?”

He frowns up at the clock, and though it takes him a second to translate the time (the dial is different) he knows that there was a morning class.

“Biology,” he recalls with an anxious pang. “Kropp….”

And Carlos huffs a sound that Jay realizes only by the twitch of his lips is a laugh. “G-got kicked out,” he says proudly. “Diss-ruptive in-influence.”

“Way to go C,” Jay cheers, smiling just a little. “Making me so proud.”

“Sshut up,” Carlos mumbles, but he’s smiling just a little more, and he’s not shaking so much. He’s almost to the foot of Jay’s bed, actually, and Jay wants more than anything to scoot over so Carlos actually sits; but he doesn’t want to ruin the delicate balance he has.

“So what’d you do?” Jay ribs a little more. “You didn’t do the potion yet?”

“N-no,” Carlos confirms, shaking his head. “Evie ssays maybe by tomorrow or Fffriday.”

“Sweet,” Jay says. “I might actually be out of here by then.”

“Rreally?” Carlos says, and there’s a lift in his voice and his face that Jay doesn’t dare hope to interpret.

“Yeah,” Jay replies, lifting his chin smugly to hide his thoughts. “The fairies are so sick of me that they’ll probably kick me out too.”

But his words have the opposite effect. Carlos’ brows draw down, worry reflecting in his dark eyes as his hands fidget with the square thing again.

“But I-I-I thought this was ssuposed to make you better?” he says, and Jay picks up on the anxious note in his voice and quickly realizes his mistake.

“Well yeah,” he scoffs, sure to keep his tone light. “It is, and it has. I’m fine now, but the damned fairies don’t seem to think so. They have me doing these stupid ‘exercises,’ it’s insane.”

Carlos nods slowly, and shuffles just a little closer. Jay holds his breath, debating a moment, and then finally decides to just say it.

“Hey, listen, Carlos…”

“I’m ssorry!” Carlos blurts out over him, and Jay blinks in surprise.

“What?” he says, and Carlos’s fingers twist the square in his hands while his eyes dart everywhere but at Jay.

“I’m ssory,” Carlos repeats in an undertone.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Jay retorts, incredulous. “I’m the one who…I left you, remember?”

“Yyeah,” Carlos replies bitterly. “But I’m the wu-wu-one who kept you away. I didn’t…I thought…I didn’t….”

“I know,” Jay mumbles, shifting just a little closer. “I get it.”

And he did. Carlos’ reaction; shoving him away, stemmed from his fear of people he cared about disappearing. Leaving him for good, like Cruella had often threatened to do and only one other person actually doing so.

“I’m ssory,” Carlos says again, and Jay lets out a short, repentant chuckle.

“Yeah well, so am I. So…tell me about that square thing because it’s driving me crazy that you’re playing with that and not your dog tail.”

Carlos’ face relaxes then, his eyes clearing and the tremors easing entirely from his body as he scurries the last few feet to Jay’s bed. He heaves himself up onto the edge and Jay winces dramatically, flopping over when Carlos bumps his leg.

“Ugh,” he groans miserably. “Oh, broken leg, oh the pain,” he wails, and Carlos snorts, shoving an elbow into his side.

“Th-there’s nothing wrrong with your leg, asshole,” Carlos replies.

Despite the actual pain that Carlos’ elbow causes, Jay still laughs, flinging himself up and latching his arms around the other boy’s neck, ignoring the yelps and protests and viciously ruffling his hair. Only when Carlos starts running out of air does Jay let go, and, satisfied that he’d learned his lesson, leans back to give Carlos space.

Carlos still slides just a little further away, but there’s an ease between them now, a calm, and Jay feels something strangely light and yet heavy filling him up inside. It makes him want to…do something, but he has no way of interpreting the feeling and so, no real way to act on it. So he simply leans a little closer to Carlos, enjoying the repairing bond and eyeing the square interestedly as the boy talks.

“It’s a pu-puzzle,” Carlos explains happily, his fingers shifting it as he talks. “Doug gave it to mme at b-b-b-reakfast today.”

“Doug?” Jay repeats slowly. “The dwarf kid?”

“Yyeah,” Carlos says carefully. “I sat with Ben an-an-and some of the oth-ers today.”

“Oh,” Jay says, surprised, and not entirely sure how he feels about Carlos joining other groups. “That’s cool, I guess. So what, he just randomly gave you the thing? Or did you nick it?”

“He w-was playing with it,” Carlos says, not seeming to notice Jay’s reluctance. “And he showed me ho-how to do it and then ssaid I could keep it and give it ba-back when I finished.”

“That is…actually pretty cool of him,” Jay concedes, and he thinks that maybe these Auradon kids weren’t all so bad.

And that maybe he’d actually give Doug his book back. The boy deserved it; after all. If not for him and his puzzle, he wouldn’t have gotten Carlos back. And Jay always paid his debts. Still, it didn’t meant he couldn’t hang onto the book a little bit longer.

Ben

“Hey Ben, Audrey, wait up!” 

Ben turns with no small amount of anticipation and dread, watching as Doug huffs his way up to them. Audrey seems to sense his worry, because she slides a little closer and slips her arm through his, squeezing lightly as though to reassure him of her presence. It does help, and he manages a tight smile at Doug as the boy finally comes to a stop in front of them.

“What’s up Doug?” Ben says, trying for casualty and failing as his anxieties about their breakfast with Carlos swirl through his head.

“Can we…talk?” Doug asks, and Ben can hear the hesitation in his own voice, his eyes wary and nervous as they glance around the emptying hallway.

“I’ll let you get to it then,” Audrey says slowly, but with good humor, though Doug shakes his head quickly.

“No I kind of meant, both of you. All of us, really, but for now…um…” He trails off with a nervous adjustment of his glasses, and Ben purses his lips in concern.

“Ok, well shoot, I guess,” he says, and Doug nods his head, adjusting his glasses again before speaking.

“It’s about the VKs,” he begins, and Ben instantly tenses, all set to start defending his decree again when Doug continues and he deflates. “Have either of you guys noticed anything...off…about them?”

“Yes,” Audrey says instantly, leaning a little closer to Doug. “Why, what have you noticed?”

“You mean aside from the obvious indicators of child abuse?” Doug replies tersely, and Ben flinches, his eyes widening in shock.

“What?” he whispers, and Doug fixes him with a look, while Audrey goes silent, a reflective look on her face.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t see it?” Doug says, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I mean, I might not have been the most enthusiastic about this whole thing, but…still…it’s clear.”

“What is clear, exactly?” Ben presses, not wanting to even think about such ideas let alone speak them like fact. Yes, ok, there was the food situation, and the Isle clearly wasn’t the lap of luxury, but that?

“Carlos,” Doug says simply, and Ben chews his lips to keep his protests of denial to himself. “When he joined the table, he didn’t introduce himself, Aziz did. He didn’t look any of us in the eyes, and Lonnie had to actually tell him to sit down before he did.”

“Well that could have just been meeting new people,” Ben tries, but even he know it’s a small excuse considering just what they were debating here.

“It could have,” Doug concedes regardless, though his eyes are still sharp. “But then there’s the fact that he only really seemed to interact with Jane, and the way he kept watching us when we talked; like he was making sure none of were going to jump on him or something.”

“I did notice that,” Audrey puts in quietly from his side. “I just thought he was nervous about being surrounded by strangers. But…I noticed.”

“And when I handed him the puzzle,” Doug says, nodding at Audrey’s input. “He was watching my hands…and the way he kept apologizing when he was giving it back.”

“I could see it in his face,” Audrey continues slowly. “It wasn’t the bell that scared him; he was afraid because he’d been playing with the puzzle the whole time. Like he thought you would yell at him for keeping it.”

“Exactly,” Doug confirms, and Ben shakes his head hard.

“Ok, so maybe there was that,” he says. “I mean, I saw it too, a little. But that doesn’t mean…that doesn’t mean…abuse.” He whispers the word, practically choking on it, and Doug gives him a sympathetic look.

“No, it doesn’t,” he says. “But I think we need to keep an eye on them just in case. See how they react to different things, make note of other signs; weird things they say about life at home; stuff like that.”

“Ok,” Audrey says, though it’s more of a determined, grieved sort of sigh, and Ben blinks, glancing back and forth between the two.

“Wait, but…if we do notice something,” he says anxiously. “What are we supposed to do? I mean, we can’t exactly confront them about it, can we?”

“No,” Doug says. “We’re not trying to be confronting. We’re following your decree after all, Ben. Giving them a chance at a better life.”

“And if it comes down to it, we talk to Fairy Godmother,” Audrey decides, and Ben sighs as he realizes he’s just as outnumbered and in over his head as his parents had feared.

But this was his decree, and what kind of example would he be if he backed out just because things weren’t going as planned? What kind of King would he be?

“Ok,” he says grimly, nodding his head.

“Then we’re agreed,” Doug says. “I’ll let the others know…discreetly, of course. And we’ll see how it goes from there.”

Yeah, Ben things glumly. I guess we will.

Chapter Text

Mal

“Alright Mal,” her mother said lowly, a wicked smile playing at her lips. “Today is a very special day, do you know why?”

Mal frowned, chewing her lip in concentration. It wasn’t Mother’s Day, she knew that much. Her mother made sure she remembered that particular occasion. And it wasn’t her birthday, or Mal’s birthday…not that the girl even knew when that was…. But if it was none of those days then…

Mal sank, bracing herself for her mother’s disappointment as she shook her head, her blond hair falling into her face at her movement. Maleficent sighed, and the disappointment was so strong Mal could practically feel it, and she shivered in spite of herself as her mother stalked closer.

“It’s a special day,” Maleficent growled. “Because today I am going to start teaching you how to be evil.”

“Like you?” Mal cried, straightening in excitement, a small smile making its way across her face.

“That’s right, my little dragon,” her mother said, her own smile growing. “Just like me.”

“Yes!” Mal cheered, and she couldn’t help but bounce slightly on her toes.

She was finally going to learn how to be evil! After so long of being told she wasn’t old enough, or wasn’t ready to harness all the powers of Hell itself or something like that…after all her time practicing terrorizing the Villagers; her mother was finally going to teach her. And she was going to grow up and be big and super scary and evil just like her mother, and never have to worry about the other bad people on the Isle ever again. Cuz she’d be the fiercest dragon of them all and they’d all be scared of her.

“Now then, four is rather young for such a big step as this,” her mother hummed thoughtfully. “But I think you can manage it, right Mal?”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed, glowing a dark green, and Mal nodded quickly, understanding instantly.

“Right,” she agreed, just a little more cautious and less excited than before.

“Good,” Maleficent crooned, and the smile on her face was much more relaxed, and Mal smiled back, tugging at the overly large blue shirt that hung almost like a dress on her small frame.

Her mother gestured her over to the one small table in the center of the ‘kitchen,’ and Mal bounced her way across the room, not noticing the way her mother scowled at her enthusiasm and cheer. Mal saw that there were two big books on the table, and a tiny round machine of some kind. One of the books was a dark purple color just like her mother’s horns, and Mal felt a heavy tug of curiosity grip her as she stared at it. She glanced over her shoulder to see her mother was looking through one of the cabinets and muttering to herself, and so Mal leaned over and stretched as far as she could for the book.

“Don’t you dare touch that!” Maleficent shrieked, and Mal was flung back into her chair by a rough push, her mother’s hand connecting with her face a moment after.

Mal whimpered, and her mother snarled, another blow catching her across the cheek.

“Enough of that,” her mother growled. “Dragons do not cry, Mal. Stop being such an embarrassment.”

Mal nodded, gulping down her sobs and tugging the edge of her shirt up to wipe her face roughly. She could still hear her mother’s disgusted sigh though, and Mal bit her lip, trying to control herself as she stared up at her mother’s towering form.

“Now then,” Maleficent snapped sharply. “If you’re done being weak...” her lip curled, and Mal ducked her head, guilt churning inside at the thought of making her mother angry with her.

“I’m sorry, mama,” she whispered, glancing up to see her mother’s lip curl further, her eyes hard.

“It’s alright,” her mother said coldly, her fingers stiff as she patted Mal’s head. “You’ll make it up to me.”

Mal nodded again, and her mother’s fingers lifted from her hair to drift over the purple book.

“This is my spell book,” she said slowly, her voice still hard and serious. “It contains all of the spells that I have learned and mastered over the years; spells that I have created and spells that have been passed down throughout my family. The blood of dragons runs through this book, Mal; magic.”

Mal gasped softly, her earlier pain forgotten in the face of this exciting and new (and dangerous) book. And besides, a part of her reasoned maturely. She’d deserved it for making her mother upset. For being so weak.

“I have magic too?” the girl asked in awe, eyes wide as she stared at the spell book.

“You do,” her mother said slowly. “Though time will tell just how much those royal bastards have ruined my chance for a true legacy.”

“What do you…?”

“It’s not for you to worry about,” Maleficent said quickly with a sharp shake of her head. “What you need to worry about are these.”

She motions to the other book, and the tiny round machine.

“What is it?” Mal asked, leaning over and frowning at the items.

“This, Mal, is called a clock,” her mother explained. “It’s how we tell what time it is. And this is just a simple rhyme book, but I’ve modified the rhymes over time to become minor spells.”

“My own spell book!” Mal cried gleefully, grabbing for the book even more enthusiastically than before.

“No, Mal, it’s not a true spell book,” Maleficent rumbled with a shake of her head and a smile that Mal knew even at four meant ‘not-a-real-smile.’ “True spell books are earned, they are not just given.”

“Oh,” Mal said, slumping back down into her chair. “Like my name.”

“Yes, exactly like your name,” her mother agreed. “You will earn it in time, but you have to prove to me that you are worthy.”

“I will,” Mal promised, her eyes widening as she looked up at her mother- her idol. “I’ll be just as evil as you!”

“We shall see,” her mother said simply, before teaching Mal the basics of spell casting and time telling.

Though it would be a very long time indeed before Mal realized that she would never earn anything but her mother’s disappointment.

Evie

It had only been a day since ‘the Incident,’ as Mal had been referring to it; that morning when Carlos had ‘chosen Auradon over them.’ But even with that length of time between them, there was still a tenseness to the way Mal and Carlos interacted with each other, a sort of fragile circling that the tiniest change could cause an explosion.

Said explosion came in the form of Jay, which Evie didn’t actually didn’t find all that surprising.

It was Friday, and with no early classes or evil teachers to worry about, Evie could finally stop and take stock of the fact that they had somehow survived their first week in Auradon. Well, granted, it wouldn’t officially have been a full week till the end of the day, but still…it was huge.

Which is why that particular morning found Evie sitting cross legged on her bed with her small collection of fabrics to be assembled into outfits of some kind, with Mal once more hanging over her own bed with her spell book, muttering the various curses under her breath. Carlos lay on his back at the foot of Evie’s bed, Doug’s puzzle cube twisting this way and that in his hands.

It would have been a peaceful and even amusing thing to see, but Evie could feel the tension even now, and it didn’t help that Mal’s muttered curses occasionally came with a flash of sparks.

“…open without a crash,” Mal whispers lowly, and her eyes glowed a faint green, and the bedroom door creaked faintly, before slamming shut with a loud bang.

Carlos yelps, rolling off the side of the bed with a thud, and Evie leaned over when he didn’t immediately resurface.

“Carlos?” She calls carefully, and a small whimper is all she hears, along with a slight shuffle of movement which tells her that he’d retreated under the bed.

“Way to go Mal,” Evie chides, shooting the other girl a look.

“Not my fault he freaked,” Mal mutters, but Evie can still see the slightly guilty look in her eyes.

“Carlos, it was just the door, you can come out,” Evie says, bending down and picking up the puzzle from where it had fallen. “Besides your game is up here, anyway.”

Carlos is silent a moment, before her bed creaks and the top of his white head is visible, his eyes narrow and cautious as he peers over the edge. Mal snorts from the other bed, and Carlos growls quietly, but scrambles the rest of the way up, snatching the cube from Evie’s hand and darting back down to the floor.

Evie sighs, shaking her head as she returns to her sewing, pinning together a few pieces into an outline of a shirt. She didn’t have much in the way of fabric; even with her status on the Isle as the Evil Queen’s daughter, it hadn’t earned her many favors and charm could only go so far. But what she did have she cherished, and made more than good use of. If her design held, the metallic looking thing in front of her would become a shirt for Carlos.

A knock on the door startles her out of her musings, and Mal’s book shuts with a sharp snap as she straightens and rises to her feet. Carlos tenses, and scoots backwards to hide back under the bed, while Evie carefully pulls her sewing scissors from her bag.

“Who is it?” Mal demands, eyeing the room in a quick sweep and closing in on the open window. Evie doubted it would come to that, but just in case, she nudges Carlos gently with her foot; tapping his back twice before pausing and tapping again- their signal for ‘alert and ready to run.’

“It’s Ben,” comes the voice from the other side of the door, and Evie relaxes, while Mal just stiffens further.

“What do you want?” Mal hisses, and Evie clicks her tongue in disapproval.

“You can come in Ben,” she calls, and Carlos shuffles out from under the bed as the door opens and Ben steps in.

“Hey guys,” he greets, smiling at her and Carlos before offering Mal a tentative wave.

“Hi,” Mal says stiffly, before turning her back and picking up her book again, careful to keep the cover hidden as she resumes where she’d left off.

Ben, for his part, only looks mildly amused by Mal’s dismissal of him, and manages to keep smiling as he talks. “I just wanted stop by and see how you were all doing, and you know…say congratulations.”

“For w-w-hat?” Carlos drawls carefully, and Ben offers him another brief smile.

“For completing a full week here in Auradon of course,” he says brightly, and Evie chuckles softly at his enthusiasm.

“Of course,” Mal repeats in a deadpan. “Congrats for making it this long, you mean.”

“Well, yes,” Ben says, not seeming to notice the heavy sarcasm in Mal’s voice. “It’s kind of a big deal, and the rest of us…uh, me and some of the others…have a little something planned for you. To celebrate.”

Evie can’t help the butterflies that drift through her stomach when Ben smiles at her again. He’s so sweet and soft and boyishly handsome; not to mention his royal status. And yet he’s also entirely taken, and while Evie may have been desperate for a Prince, she wasn’t quite at the ‘man-stealing’ level yet.

“We don’t do ‘celebrating,’” Mal says abruptly, her eyes hard and cautious as she glares at Ben. “But thanks anyway.”

“Aw come on M-ma-mal!” Carlos is the one who protests, rising to his feet so he was level with her. “It could be….”

“Fun?” she finishes challengingly, and Carlos winces at her tone, but manages to hold her gaze.

“It could be,” he replies, and Evie bites her lip anxiously as she glances between the two.

“I get that everything is still so new,” Ben cuts in slowly. “And you don’t have to agree to anything right away. I figured you would like to know ahead of time so it wasn’t too big of a surprise…it’ll be later today around lunch time, in the gardens.”

“That’s very…nice…of you,” Mal says carefully, the foreign word twisting awkwardly around her tongue.

“W-we’ll think about it,” Carlos promises, and there’s a hopeful, eager look on his face as he turns to Evie.

“No promises,” Mal snaps, but Evie finds herself nodding anyway.

“No, but we’ll think about it,” she says, and Ben brightens again.

“Great,” he says. “You’re free to do what you want with the day; explore the grounds, maybe check out some of the extracurriculars we have. Doug is in on it so if you decide you want to come, just let him know and he’ll show you the way.”

“Great,” Mal mutters unenthusiastically. “We’ll totally do that.”

Ben grins again and clasps his hands together enthusiastically. “Well I’ll let you guys go, but like I said before, if you need anything…I’m here.”

“Noted,” Mal murmurs, and Ben nods in farewell before leaving, closing the door behind him.

“Well that was….”

“Mal puh-puh-please can we go?” Carlos bursts out, cutting across Evie in his excitement.

“Why do you even want to go?” Mal retorts incredulously, and even Evie is surprised at just how animated the younger boy was. “Socializing isn’t usually your thing.”

“But it’s fffor us!” Carlos cries, his fingers fidgeting with his dog tail. “I-i-it’d be cool.”

“Yeah, until it turns out to be a set up,” Mal counters sharply. “Some prank or twisted joke.”

“But this is Auradon,” Evie broaches carefully. “Who knows, it could be….”

“Ssee?” Carlos says, lifting his brows at Mal. “Wwe can go!”

“Without Jay?” Mal counters, lifting a brow. “You’d actually do that?”

“Mal don’t be mean,” Evie scolds, before realizing what she’d said and falling silent.

“We’re not going,” Mal says, ignoring Carlos’ strangled cry of protest. “We have other things to focus on, remember?”

“But--”

A knock on the door interrupts Carlos’ continued whimpering, and Mal growls sharply in frustration.

“I swear, it’s like we’re some kind of attraction,” she mutters darkly, stalking over to the door and yanking it open.

“What?” she hisses, and Evie looks over at a familiar laugh.

“Is that any way to treat someone who’s bringing you presents?”

“Az-ziz,” Carlos manages jerkily, though no less happily, offering the older boy a shy smile as she strolls past Mal into the room.

“Hey there Freckles,” Aziz greets Carlos, grinning back broadly before turning and offering Evie a wink.

“M’lady,” he drawls, and Evie ducks her head back to her sewing to hide her slight blush.

“What does everybody have against us?” Mal grumbles, crossing her arms and glaring at Aziz’s back.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Aziz replies, shaking his head. “But I do know that there’s this wicked party we’re throwing for you and….”

“Yeah, we know,” Mal replies shortly.

“Oh, cool,” Aziz says, unaffected by her attitude. “Ooh, but I do seriously have surprises for you.” 

He turns and darts back to the door, swinging his body through it as he opens it and calling out into the hallway.

“You coming or what?”

There’s a muffled answer of some kind, and Aziz swings back through the doorway with a flourish of his hands as a figure shuffles into the room, the door creaking closed behind it. Evie straightens as the familiar figure stops just in the doorway, and Mal curses softly while Carlos leaps to his feet.

“Jay!” the smaller boy cries, and though there’s obvious delight in his eyes, he just stops himself from rushing forward.

“Dude I saw you, like, yesterday,” Jay snorts, shifting his weight on the crutch under his arm. “Chill.”

“Well fuck me,” Mal mutters, but Evie can hear the relief in her voice. “If it isn’t the bane of my existence.”

“I couldn’t just leave you all to wander around unsupervised and unprotected,” Jay scoffs, his eyes twinkling as his lips curl into that familiar grin. “What kind of person would I be if I did that?”

“Like pretty much everyone back home?” Mal offers with a shrug, but she’s definitely smiling now, and Evie has almost forgotten Aziz was still there until he cleared his throat.

“I guess things got pretty crazy then, huh?” the other boy says with a strange look on his face. “Not that I’m not a sucker for emotional reunions,” he says quickly. “But that just sounds…unsafe.”

“Right I forgot,” Jay grumbles, shoving Aziz away with the edge of his crutch. “You might be cool, but you’re still Auradon.”

“Agrabah, originally,” Aziz corrects with faux haughtiness, straightening his blazer. “And I’ll thank you not to insult either of my countries.”

Jay rolls his eyes, and even Mal scoffs, though she’s focused back on her spell book.

“Anyway,” Jay continues. “Define safe, and maybe I can help put your innocent mind to rest. Or scar you for life.”

“Jay,” Evie scolds, though she feels an anxious thrill go through her at his words. Mal says nothing, but she’s pursed her lips tightly and Evie can tell she’s just as displeased as she is.

“Well really just everything you just said, but the opposite,” Aziz says with a short laugh that sounds anything but amused.

“What, constant supervision and hovering?” Jay retorts, rolling his eyes while his free hand slowly works its way around Carlos’ shoulder. “Sounds like Fairy Godmother’s classes.”

“You mean caring?” Aziz replies, his eyes intent as he focuses on Jay, though his mouth curls somewhat at the mention of Fairy Godmother.

“Oh, you’re doing that again,” Jay sighs, shaking his head as his hand inches a little further, stealthily plucking the puzzle cube from Carlos’ hands.

Evie shakes her own head, but she can’t help but laugh as Carlos blinks, glancing down at his hands in stunned confusion. She watches as the smaller boy’s head comes up, and the glare he gives Jay when he sees the cube balanced on Jay’s fingers is priceless. Jay laughs with glee, lifting his arm and silently taunting Carlos.

“Um, what thing?” Aziz asks, feigning offense. “If you mean my concern about your wellbeing then shoot me.”

“Huh?” Mal frowns, and Evie narrows her eyes at the other boy. Even Carlos forgets about his puzzle for a moment and stops, nervous and uncertain.

“What?” Aziz replies, his own face furrowing in confusion. “What’d I say?”

“Shoot you?” Jay says, his head cocked slightly to the left. “Why would….”

And then Aziz laughs, a short, quick snort of amusement that does nothing to put Evie at ease.

“Oh wow, you guys really are out of touch,” he chuckles. “It’s a saying, an expression you know? Like, when you use a saying to…say something...without really saying….”

He trails off hopelessly, and Evie narrows her eyes at him, frowning despite the pang of anxiety it gives her about wrinkles.

“If you want to say something then why don’t you just say it?” she accuses, and Aziz tries for a laugh but it falters somewhat in the face of her glare.

“You got me there,” he murmurs with a slight shrug. “How about we just label it as a weird thing we do in Auradon and call it a day?”

“It’s not even noon,” Mal snaps, and Evie silently thanks her mother’s lessons on facial expressions, as she’s able to expertly school her face to hide her cruel amusement.

Mal makes no such effort, her lips twisting into a triumphant leer, her eyes flashing brightly with laughter as Aziz splutters and attempts to defend himself.

“Ok, but in all seriousness,” Aziz finally says, and Evie finds herself straightening at his serious tone. “The whole lack of supervision thing…that was really a norm for you guys? I mean, you really didn’t have anyone looking out for you?”

“It’s a trap,” Jay hisses with a scoff, and though Mal rolls her eyes, Evie can tell by the slight stiffening of her shoulders that the other girl is very much wary and alert.

“The only people looking out for you on the Isle is yourself,” Mal says coldly, her eyes dark with danger. “No one is going to come to save you so you have to be the one to save yourself.”

Something falters across Aziz’s expression at that, and Evie finds herself holding her breath, waiting for it to turn into anger or something equally dangerous. But the other boy doesn’t even raise his voice, seeming almost unsure as he glances carefully around the room at them.

“But…what about you guys?” he asks, his voice reflecting the uncertainty in his eyes. “You’re all really close…you look out for each other.”

“We’re like, the rare exception,” Jay mutters, rubbing at his jaw self-consciously. “We came together because we had to…to survive.”

“And anyway,” Mal continues. “We only all came together like we are now a few months ago. Before that, we were just allies.”

“Allies?”

“There are no relationships on the Isle,” Evie finds herself putting in, though she keeps her eyes on her needles as she idly pokes at the fabric. “Just those you use to get what you want, and allies to help you get it.”

“Oh,” Aziz says, and Mal snorts derisively.

“That it, Agrabah?” she snaps challengingly. “Or do you want to ask even more probing questions?”

“Well,” Aziz says slowly, his eyes on the floor as he shuffles his weight. “I do have one more….”

“Here it comes,” Jay grumbles, eyes narrowing at the other boy.

Aziz makes a face at Jay, who flips him off in response, but neither Mal or Evie if fully relaxed. Tense and suspicious, Evie purses her lips as she waits for the other boy to speak. After a brief stare down between he and Jay, Aziz finally speaks, turning back to them with a glint in his eyes that is all too reminiscent of trouble.

“So like, who did your hair? Because I’m obsessed with those colors, seriously.”

Evie blinks, and Mal is so caught off guard she lets out an undignified snort.

“Wait, what?” she says with a laugh, tugging at a purple lock, while Evie combs her fingers self-consciously through her own blue-stained curls.

It occurs to her that she hadn’t actually combed or styled her hair at all that week, and the thought sends a sharp twist through her stomach. She can practically hear her mother’s voice, chiding her for her lack of hygiene; the threats and promises that ‘how could any boy want you when you look like you just crawled out of the gutter?’

The thought of it is enough to make her sick, her breath catching tightly in her throat and she almost doesn’t register the voices in the background until she hears her name.

“…don’t know about Carlos,” Mal is saying, the other girl’s voice still wary and incredulous. “But Evie and I got our colors from some of the dyes that Uma made on the Isle. Well, that and uh…magic, a bit.”

“Magic?” Aziz repeats, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “And who’s Uma? Someone I should know?”

“Not particularly,” Mal growls, and Evie exchanges a nervous look with Jay and Carlos. They knew all too well the animosity the two girls had for each other.

“She’s Ursula’s daughter,” Evie cuts in quickly, deciding after a moment of Mal’s ensuing curses that it would be better if she provided the information. “She mostly stayed by the docks, but every now and then she would make her way into town and sell the dyes she made.”

“And start another turf war,” Mal snarls, so viciously that Aziz starts, blinking in shock.

“War?” he questions meekly, and Evie straightens, while Jay and Carlos shake their head rapidly, eyes wide.

“N-n-n-no,” Carlos murmurs. “Don’t get her sstarted.”

Aziz takes a look at Mal’s seething face and, wisely, in Evie’s opinion- doesn’t press. Instead, he shifts his attention back to Evie, though he glances warily out of the corner of his eye to Mal.

“So uh, you said…magic?”

“Yeah,” Mal answers, and Evie deflates slightly as his attention turns back to the other girl. “I used to be blonde when I was a kid, and then it got darker as I got older. The dye helped, but really, it was um…”

“The colors are really a manifestation of our magic,” Evie finishes for her, when Mal hesitates too much for her liking.

“The hell, E?” Mal snaps, clearly reading Evie’s intentions. Evie shrugs, her lips twitching in amusement.

“You weren’t finishing the sentence anytime soon,” she replies smugly. “Poor guy was going grey waiting.”

“Al-already grey,” Carlos mumbles cheekily, his eyes flickering shyly over to Aziz, who makes a show of combing his scalp for hair while Jay rolls his eyes.

“Fine, so on the Isle, all magic is useless and nonexistent, right?” Evie says briskly, and Aziz nods, easily returning to seriousness. “Well despite not being able to use it, the magic is still in our blood, but with no way to harness or release it, the magic sort of did its own thing.”

“Cool,” Aziz says, nodding his head slightly. “So Jay, you just decided you’d rebel and be cool without the color?”

“You shitting me?” Jay scoffs. “I wouldn’t be caught dead with that gunk in my hair.”

“Yeah, but, if it’s magic then wouldn’t you…?”

Evie couldn’t stifle her own snort fast enough, but it was mercifully covered by the rest of her group’s laughter, Carlos dropping his puzzle he was laughing so hard.

“Jay? W-w-with magic?”

“I wish,” Jay agrees ruefully. “Nah, the magic gene seems to have skipped this generation.”

“But wasn’t Jafar a genie?” Aziz questions, lifting a brow. “You’d think at least something would’ve come from that.”

“Yeah,” Jay mutters, though his voice had pitched lower, his eyes dark and clouded. “You’d think. It was one of his favorite things to…complain about.”

Evie doesn’t miss the inflection in his words, or the slight stiffening of his shoulders. She sees the flicker in his face and remembers all those times she’d found him in the alley behind his father’s house; or the few moments he’d ended up at her window; or that one time in particular….

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Aziz chuckles, but even he seems to have noticed the shift in Jay’s voice, and Evie silently thanks the other boy when he turns to Carlos with an easy smile.

“So Freckles,” he says, and Carlos bites his lip, something lighting in his eyes that Evie can’t quite interpret. “You got some secret magic you’ve been hiding?”

“A-as if,” Carlos laughs, shaking his head. “It gro-ows that way.”

“What? Nu-uh,” Aziz says, his eyes crinkling with laughter in the corners. “So like, what…just like your mom’s? Her hair really is half black and white?”

Carlos flinches at the mention of Cruella, and Evie bites her lip anxiously, while Mal bristles and Jay grimaces. But Carlos doesn’t retreat, or even lash out like Evie expects him to. Instead he simply makes a face, a sort of twisted half-smile, and even manages a short laugh, though Evie can tell right away that it’s fake.

“Y-yeah,” he mutters lowly. “It’s a pppain to brush every morning, but…you kn-know.” He shrugs lightly, and Aziz chuckles a bit, the tension fading with the sound.

“Yeah, well, as much as I’d love to stay and chat, I’ve got a class, and preparations for your lunch. Though I could always just skip class….”

“Now you sound like one of us,” Jay scoffs, shoving Aziz with a shoulder. “And you’re not cool enough to hang like one of us just yet.”

“Pfft,” Aziz snorts, but he’s smiling again, not the least bit offended by Jay’s teased insults. “Whatever. I’ll see you around.”

“Sssee ya,” Carlos offers, and Evie smiles, waving a farewell as Aziz turns to go.

“Good riddance,” is all Mal tosses out, but he was gone by that point, the door clicking closed behind him.

Jay snaps the lock into place a moment after, and it’s only a breath of time after that that Carlos launches himself forward, pressing as close to Jay as he can get without knocking him over. Mal tosses her spell book aside, and Evie is already on her feet, her sewing forgotten as she crosses the room to stand by Jay’s other side.

It’s only when she’s that close that she realizes Carlos is shaking, though his expression seems neutral enough. But the smaller boy was all but clinging to Jay, and the other boy grimaces as he attempts to shuffle further into the room.

“Ok, ok, I get it,” he grumbles, maneuvering around Carlos’ hovering form. “I was gone for like, two days, though…chill.”

“Three,” Carlos mumbles, his hand fidgeting anxiously at his sides, though Evie can tell by the look on his face that he’d much rather have them around Jay.

Jay seems to sense this, and adjusts his weight on the crutch before reaching out with his other hand and roughly mussing Carlos’ hair. Something hits the floor with a thump, and Evie casts her eyes down to the oval shaped, black bag by Jay’s foot as Carlos starts yelping protests.

“Aw, did my little puppy miss me?” Jay croons teasingly, shuffling around to continue wrestling the other boy into submission. “Was I gone for so long that my little Carlos was getting all depressed and lonely without me?”

“Jay get off!” Carlos whimpers, digging his elbows into Jay’s side and wincing when it only makes Jay grab him tighter. “Mmal!”

“What’s that bag?” Mal asks, completely ignoring Carlos’ cries for help, and Evie huffs a sigh when Carlos yelps again.

“Your own fault for standing too close,” she mutters, but she pries him loose anyway, ignoring Jay’s grumbles curses.

“That bag?” Jay finally says, as Carlos scrambles for the opposite bed. “Oh, it’s nothing…just my latest, and dare I say greatest, score!”

He beds down and lifts the bag easily, plopping it down onto Evie’s bed with a flourish. Evie exchanges a wary look with Mal, as they both know by now not to trust anything Jay brings home. But curiosity gets the better of her, and Evie tugs the zipper open anyway, her mouth falling open in shock.

“Holy….”

“You son of a bitch,” Mal cuts across her, vaulting around Carlos and grabbing the bag. “Where the hell…?”

“I just so happened to come across a map of the school grounds while I was in the infirmary,” Jay brags easily, his usual swagger evident even with the crutch. “And with nothing better to do, what do I do but study my surroundings? And I just so happened to memorize where the kitchens were, so that the first thing I did when I got out was a proper raid.”

“Have I told you that I love you yet?” Mal says, digging through the bag and coming up with a handful of packages food.

Carlos ducks under her reaching arms and practically buries himself in the bag, shoving a pastry into his mouth while grabbing three more packages with his other hands. He mumbles something through the food, and Evie grimaces at the lack of proper etiquette. But all things considered, she could forgive him this time.

“Yeah yeah, you can thank me later,” Jay brushes her off, though he smirks proudly anyway. “We have to sort through this now, though, and I can restock when we need it.”

“Ok,” Evie says, happily taking charge. “We should eat any of the unwrapped stuff now. All the packaged food can stay in the bag, and if there’s any fruit, we can sort it by when it should be eaten and go from there.”

Carlos whimpers, but drops the packages he’d grabbed back into the bag, pastry crumbs falling down his chin. Mal tosses her own stash back as well, though Evie doesn’t miss the smaller package that she slips into her pocket.

“M,” Evie snaps, and Mal blinks at her. “Come on.”

“Leader gets first pick,” Mal replies simply, though there’s a stubborn, unyielding tone to her voice that Evie knows she won’t win against.

“Ugh, fine,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “It doesn’t look like there’s anything in here that will go bad; not that that really matters but…I think we’ll be good with this for a good week or so.”

“So I did good?” Jay asks, his brow furrowed in a rare gesture on uncertainty.

“Oh yeah,” Evie confirms with a smile.

“At this rate, all we need now is a solid plan for the wand and we can take Auradon by storm,” Mal crows, and even Carlos manages a wicked smile, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he chews the rest of his pastry.

“And I might have an idea of where to start,” Jay adds slyly.

“Why do I have the feeling this won’t end well?” Evie mutters, though she can’t help but grin as well, the excitement of their goal contagious.

“For Auradon, maybe,” Mal retorts. “They won’t know what hit them.”

Jane

“Ok guys, our first intervention slash rescue plan for the VKs has officially begun.”

Jane picks anxiously at the bow attached to her dress, Ben’s greeting doing nothing to calm her nerves. What was she doing here? What did they think they were doing?

“Rescue? Rescue from what? If anything it’s Auradon that needs to be protected from them.”

“Chad, we’ve discussed this,” Ben (rather patiently, in Jane’s opinion) says. “You’re more than welcome to stay and be a part of this. But if you don’t have anything positive to contribute, then at least don’t contribute at all.”

Chad huffs darkly, but says nothing, and Jane chews her lip, eyeing the rest of the group gathered in the library. Doug sat just to Chad’s right; Lonnie was beside him; Aziz sat in the lounge chair to Lonnie’s right, with Nikki standing behind him, his hands resting on the back of his boyfriend’s chair. Audrey sat to Jane’s left, and Ben stood in the center of their little circle, shuffling slowly around as he spoke.

“I called you all together because, as I’m sure you’ve all noticed in some degree, there’s something wrong with the VKs, and we need to find out what.”

“Seriously, Ben?” Chad hisses sharply. “It took you a whole week to figure that out? I could have told you from day one when those two freaks attacked me with a knife!”

“Dagger,” Lonnie cut in with equal ferocity, glaring at the blond prince. “How many times do I have to tell you guys? There’s a difference!”

“Yeah, we get it, Lonnie; you’re the weapons expert,” Chad retorts, rolling his eyes. “Knife, dagger…it was sharp and pointy, that’s all that really matters.”

Lonnie grits her jaw and glares, but doesn’t say anything back. Jane knows better though, than to take it as a sign of defeat. Rather, she was pretty sure her roommate was restraining herself from physically responding to Chad.

“Ok, weapon specifics aside,” Ben cuts in before it could come to that. “Something is wrong, and before I say what I think, I want to hear what you’ve all seen for yourselves. We’ll start from day one and go from there, so…Chad?”

Ben winces as he says Chad’s name, as though bracing himself for the outburst that is sure to come.

“Where do you want me to start, Ben? Before or after I was attacked?”

“To be fair, you did start it,” Lonnie cuts in before Ben can respond, and Jane is surprised at the cold look in her eyes as she stares the blond boy down. “Honestly, I’d probably have done the same in their position.”

“Not. Helping,” Chad grumbles, his left hand curling protectively around his bandaged right.

“Ok guys,” Ben says quickly. “That’s enough. Chad, regardless of who started what…did you notice anything about Jay or Carlos that was…I don’t know, concerning?”

“You mean aside from the fact Carlos had a knife that he just carried around all over? I mean, seriously, how is that not concerning?”

“Ok,” Ben drawls slowly, pointedly ignoring Lonnie’s furious swearing. “That is one thing I worried about, too. More specifically, it was just how well Carlos handled that knife…dagger,” he amends hastily, offering Lonnie a sheepish look. “Audrey, I know you had some concerns.”

Jane glances over to the other girl, who nods slowly, her eyes on her hands as she spoke. “I do,” she says. “From the moment they got here I noticed that none of them made any eye contact, aside from Jay, but he was glaring more than simply looking at people. Not to mention the bruises….”

She trails off, and Jane finds herself starting, surprised. She hadn’t noticed any bruises on them, or at least, not on Carlos. But she hadn’t really been looking at them closely at the time…too afraid to get too close. And now look how close she was.

“Jay had a black eye,” Doug recalls hesitantly, and Ben nods, pressing his lips tightly together.

“I talked with Fairy Godmother and she said she’d done a brief magical examination to see how badly they were hurt and heal them. And aside from Jay’s black eye, Evie had some bruised ribs. For whatever reason, Mal and Carlos were relatively ok, but she said there were a lot of broken bones on all of them; past injuries that the magic picked up on, some of which hadn’t healed right.”

“Probably fought a lot on the Isle, too,” Chad says, but his tone is strangely subdued, and not as venomous.

“Then there’s the food issues,” Ben continues. “It’s been drawn to my attention that the Isle really only gets our garbage, so it’s no wonder they’re starving.”

Jane bites her lip at that. She had known, of course, that the Isle had received their cast-offs, but at the time she hadn’t seen it as a problem. Just something that was done, and what did it matter what villains ate? She was embarrassed to think that way now, knowing what she did, but still.

“And Jane’s been around Carlos enough to catch something,” Doug adds, and Jane suddenly finds the attention of the room turned to her.

“I…uh…um…,” Jane stammers wordlessly, her fingers slowly unraveling the bow attached to her dress.

“It’s alright, Jane,” Ben reassures. “No one’s going to judge you for saying what you think.”

Maybe not right now, Jane thinks warily. But there’s no way it wouldn’t come back and haunt her in some shape or form.

“I ran into Carlos first,” she finally says. “In one of the forges, after class. I still don’t know what he was doing, but he was terrified that he was in some kind of trouble. It was…weird…”

She trails off, frowning as she recalled his particular mannerisms in that moment, how every move and gesture and flicker of the eyes all seemed to convey a trapped and terrified animal.

“What was weird?” Ben asks gently.

“He was,” Jane says, realizing only after how blunt and terrible that sounded. “Sorry, not like…um, it took him a while to realize I wasn’t a threat to him, but he was really on edge, watching everything I did, and if it seemed like I was getting too close, he’d flinch away like he thought I was going to attack him or something.”

Ben nods, but it’s more to himself than anything else, as though confirming something in his head.

“But once he opened up, he was the exact opposite,” Jane continues slowly. “And even later, in the infirmary, I got him to laugh and we talked for a while.”

And then she remembers, and a gasp slips involuntarily past her lips.

“Jane?” Lonnie asks, concerned, but Jane shakes her head, holding up a hand.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “It’s just…I remembered something he said about his mom. About Cruella.”

A shiver passes through the group, a wave of unease at the mention of the villainess. Jane pushes past it, and manages to continue.

“He mentioned that Cruella…wasn’t exactly ‘stable,’ how she would forget things a lot, even him.”

“That’s terrible,” Audrey gasps, and even Chad looks unsettled, though it’s quickly covered up by a bored expression before Jane can comment on it.

“I was just in the girls’ room,” Aziz says, crossing his arms. “They were all there together. Side note; they don’t like being away from each other for long.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” Ben murmurs. “I don’t think Mal was very happy that I took Carlos away from them for breakfast the other day.”

“Yeah,” Aziz drawls, shaking his head before continuing. “Anyway, I did some probing. Turns out there’s not a lot of parental care or supervision in general. Everyone pretty much is left to fend for themselves, and that’s how they all came together.”

“Right, so, we have some information, now what are we going to do with it?”

It’s Doug who redirects the conversation, and Jane blinks up at him in surprise. “If we really are looking for signs of abuse…..”

Jane flinches, and Chad looks up sharply, his brow pulling down into severe frown.

“Wait, what?” he snaps, and Ben fixes him with a careful look.

“There’s clearly something more going on that we’re not seeing,” Ben say slowly. “My decree brought the VKs here, but they could just as easily go back at the end of the school year. If it comes down to it, I want to know what I’m sending them back to.”

“Yeah, ok,” Chad mutters dazedly. “But…but really Ben? Abuse?”

There’s something tight and pained in his voice, and Jane is suddenly reminded just how close a subject this was for Chad. His own mother had been subject to the abuses of her step-family her whole life. Even now, it was rumored she was still affected by it. Cruel, vicious rumors, to be sure; meant to find ways to discredit Cinderella’s royal status. But the truth of behind the rumors remained.

Jane feels a pang of sympathy for the other boy. Despite Chad’s…faults…it couldn’t be easy for him. Ben seems to understand and feel the same, as he offers the other boy a tiny, sad smile.

“I know, it’s kind of a big deal for your family, and I’m sorry about that. Really. But the people on the Isle of the Lost are my responsibility, too and I’m not just going to deny that for the sake of feeling comfortable.”

“No, please,” Chad says, shrugging slightly and gesturing with a hand. “Don’t let my deep, personal experiences get in the way of your precious villains.”

“Chad,” Ben starts, but the other boy shakes his head, standing from his chair a little too abruptly.

“No, I get it,” Chad cuts in sharply, a waver in his voice that he’s not quick enough to hide. “Got to preserve Auradon’s reputation and all that; show that you care.”

“Chad,” Jane tries, but he’s already heading out the door, his hands trembling in fists at his sides.

“Leave it, Janey,” Lonnie says quietly. “Just let him be bitter for a while.”

“But--”

“No, Lonnie’s right,” Ben sighs. “He just needs some time for himself. It’s only fair…half his family is on the Isle and Auradon never did do much for Cinderella except try to disinherit her.”

“You’d think it would at least make him a little sympathetic,” Audrey offers. “But I’ll check on him later.”

“Yeah, ok,” Ben concedes softly. “And in the mean-time, we’ll keep an eye on the four and make sure they continue settling in without any added problems.”

“Careful, you’ll jinx it,” Aziz teases, though it’s not as light given the atmosphere of Chad’s exit.

Jane just hoped things would settle from here. Despite the VKs dangerous heritage and the chaos of their arrival, they’d all managed to make it a week in Auradon. They could get through one lunch party, right?

Chad

He wasn’t running away. He wasn’t running he wasn’t running away dammit!

“Dammit.”

The word spills from his lips in a quick, low hiss, his fists clenching in anxious need; that need to react, to break, to do…something…to ease the tightness in his chest. He settles for shoving someone brutally aside, though their outraged yelp is lost as he stumbles messily into the nearest men’s room, closing and locking the door firmly behind him before losing himself in a scream.

He brings his fist up to his mouth and bites down on his knuckle until the pain is almost as great as the one is his left hand, his scream stifling and hot and raw as it tears past his lips, spilling over his fingers and out into the air.

But it’s not quite enough to release the pressure and he whirls, blindly, kicking at the nearest stall door and letting the slamming echo deep inside. He kicks the next door, and the next, then pivots again and beats at the wall until he can’t feel his fingers at all anymore.

Only then does Chad finally stop, his chest heaving and eyes stinging painfully. And it all hurts, now that he’s aware of himself; his knuckles bruised and bloody where the skin has peeled off, a twinge in his leg that he recognizes as a cramp of some kind.

He straightens, drawing a slow breath and crossing to the sink. He washes his hand awkwardly, trying to avoid getting the bandages around his left hand wet. The stark white contrasts with the diluted red, and he tries to focus on the colors, but the pain and the bandages and the screaming still remind him of the freaks who did this to him….

But he can’t even think that anymore, can he? Not after hearing all that in the library. His body shudders, a long, slow shiver that pulls Chad deeper into his head.

He hadn’t run away, though. Not because of that. Chad Charming didn’t run from anything, especially not some villains who had no place being in his kingdom in the first place.

But he can’t think that, because damn it….

He almost wants to punch the wall again, but his now throbbing hand discourages that idea. Abuse. The word alone is enough to make him feel sick, and he hates that everyone knows; hates the pain and the sadness and the fucking pity that reflected in everyone’s eyes when they looked at him. At Ben’s tone; all ‘understanding’ and condescending all at once.

“I know it’s kind of a big deal for your family.”

Like it was just some ‘thing’ that could be easily dismissed. Like his family wasn’t torn apart because of it. Like it was something to be ‘observed’ or ‘remembered’ like a holiday or something exclusive and foreign and unique only to the Charmings.

“You have no idea, Ben,” Chad spits at the mirror, his usually fine features contorting into something painful and bitter. “You have no idea what my family has been through.”

Or just how much Auradon had screwed them over.

The Charmings had joined with Auradon when Chad was only five, but even then, he had sensed the shift their presence had brought. Or more specifically, his mother’s presence. He had noticed the whispering, the rumors, the looks. But he’d only fully understood when he was seven, after two years of unsuccessful friendships and taunts; and his father had finally taken the time to explain to him just why it was that everyone was so bothered by them.

Because not only was his mother not of royal blood, she was also…different. Scandalously so, by Auradon standards.

Chad remembered once, when he was about six, watching his mother clean the castle. He’d toddled after, eyes wide and confused, as she’d let all the servants go, and insisted that she would make sure everything was clean; that it was her job, and that it would all be fine if she could just reach that chandelier….

His father had been angry at first, but then it had turned into a weary, wary sadness when his mother had suddenly collapsed against him, tears streaming down her face as she uttered barely audible apologies; pleas and promises to do better, to make sure she was doing enough for him; that she would make sure he wouldn’t regret taking some worthless girl off the streets as his wife; that she was sorry, sorry, sorry.

Chad grits his jaw to keep the lump from rising in his throat, his fists clenching again as the anger at it all slowly started coming back. The worst of it was over, just memories and nightmares from childhood. But the effects were still there, even now…even now Chad would sometimes hear people whispering and laughing about his mother’s ‘cleaning routines.’

They didn’t know that it was only because of his father’s tireless work and added comfort and contact on Chad’s part that the routine even existed. They didn’t know that it was the only thing, strangely, painfully, that would help calm his mother’s lingering anxieties. That if they didn’t let the servants have a day off every season change: didn’t let his mother clean the castle as she wished from top to bottom, that the resulting breakdown would be far more catastrophic.

It was just how they managed. How she coped. Who were they to point and laugh and whisper? To fight to deny Cinderella a place on the council; to question Chad’s own legitimacy as a Prince and worthy of the titles it would grant him?

Who were they to pity, to say “I get that it’s a big deal.”

Chad forces his hand to uncurl from its fist, hissing another curse at the responding twinge of pain. But his head is finally clear, at least, though he’s pretty sure he’s going to need even more bandages for his other hand, and damn these VKs for coming here and forcing him to face his own problems. It was so much easier to ignore it, to ignore her, then to face it and accept it, to accept everyone’s silent ridicule.

But despite the pressure in his head easing, his chest is still all too tight, and Chad’s finds himself shaking for an entirely different reason as his hands slip into his pocket and pull out his phone. The tiled walls replay each ring back to him, and his throat goes dry so that by the time the voice sounds at the other end, Chad can barely croak out his own words.

“H-Hi Dad,” he says, and there are tears in his eyes but for once, he’ll let them fall. “Is Mom there?”

Chapter Text

Audrey

Audrey goes to find Chad the moment the meeting is over. She has an idea of where he might be, but he was unpredictable when he got like this…and violent, if pushed too far. She half expects to find a trail of tears when she steps out into the hallway, but it’s strangely quiet- at least, in that regard. She finds herself tracking down Doug instead, finding the other boy just on the edge of the gardens, reading a book while also overseeing the decorating out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey Doug,” she greets, sitting down on the picnic bench across from him. He blinks up at her, his hands marking his page on their own before he closes the book slowly.

“Hey, Audrey,” he says back, and Audrey can’t help but sigh at his tone; heavy and cautious, just like he was in the library.

“I still can’t believe we just had that conversation,” she says, and Doug nods, his body slumping forward slightly over the table.

“I didn’t want to see it for myself at first,” he admits. “I even told Ben that it wasn’t a big deal that the Isle got our garbage and leftovers.”

“You did?” This is a surprise. She never would have thought that Doug wouldn’t be able to see the wrong in a thing, or even admit to it.

“Yeah,” he replies with a soft snort and a shake of his head. “Look at hypocritical me now. Sympathizing with the enemy.”

“They’re not our enemy,” Audrey is quick to defend, and Doug’s lips twitch wryly.

“I know that,” he says. “Now. But even so, it still feels weird.”

“Not as weird as Chad must be feeling,” she puts in, and Doug grimaces, his eyes flickering behind his glasses.

“Chad’s….,” Doug trails off, the weight of the other boy’s connection to the situation hanging heavily in the air and overshadowing the festivities beyond them.

“Yeah,” Audrey says, and leaves it at that. There’s nothing else to say, nothing that wouldn’t have already been said or debated over.

“He’ll come around, though,” Doug says, but he doesn’t sound certain enough to Audrey. “He just needs some time, and distance, maybe.”

“I don’t think giving him distance will end well,” Audrey counters carefully. “Not with the VKs so close. Things could go right back to how they were in the beginning…and I don’t think a lack of weapons would stop anyone.”

Doug gives a short, scoffing laugh of agreement, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

“Still,” Audrey continues softly. “We need to do something to intervene. I don’t want this to give Chad any more reason to think badly of the VKs…or of Auradon in general.”

“Yeah I learned the hard way that Chad doesn’t take kindly to ‘interventions,’” Doug mutters, averting his eyes with a bitter quirk of his lips. “But you’re more than welcome to try. I saw him heading towards the Tourney field.”

Audrey frowns at that, surprised by the information. She knew Chad had a temper, but she’d never known him to be violent towards any of his friends. Although, there still was a lot she didn’t know about the other boy or his family, so she supposed it was only fair. And the Tourney field was definitely a fitting place for him to be, considering how wound up he’d been.

“Thanks Doug,” she smiles at him, and Doug nods non-committedly, his eyes scanning the gardens again.

“Anytime,” he says, before suddenly straightening, lifting his chin as he calls out in the direction of one of the nearby pavilions.

“Hey Aziz, Nikhil!” he shouts, squinting slightly as he frowns. “Are you guys decorating or is all this just a date for you or something?”

Audrey follows Doug’s glaring gaze to see the two boys in question, Aziz standing on the upper rung of a ladder with Nikhil a couple rungs below him. Both of them are holding one end of a banner, but it’s far from being hung up; the two boys leaning close in a gesture suspiciously reminiscent of a kiss.

At Doug’s shout they break apart, Nikhil looking vaguely flustered, but pleased, and Aziz sporting a cocky grin.

“It’s called multitasking, Dwarf Boy!” Aziz shouts back with a wave. “You should try it sometime!”

“Aziz,” Audrey hears Nikhil murmur, but his disapproval is cut short with a laugh as the other boy mutters something only they can hear.

Doug grumbles something unintelligible under his breath as Audrey stifles her own amusement for his sake.

“I don’t know who thought those two being a couple was a good idea,” he mutters.

“Pretty sure that was Mason,” Audrey puts in, allowing herself to smile. “He’s always bragging about his ‘instincts.’”

“Right, so we need to stop him next time he decides to match-make again.”

Audrey chuckles, looking back over to the pavilion to see that Nikki and Aziz have actually moved on to hanging the blue and yellow banner instead of flirting.

“I don’t know, Doug,” she says slyly. “I think they’re kinda cute together. Plus, come on, the son of Aladdin and the son of Naveen? They both sort of have that…inherent charisma.”

“Charisma,” Doug grumbles, but he’d slowly drifted back to his book, and Audrey decides she’d better leave him to stew. She still had to find Chad and hopefully get him into a decent mood before the party in a few hours.

They couldn’t afford for anything else to go wrong.

Audrey finds Chad right where Doug had said; running an aggressive set of drills through and around the Tourney field. He’d set the canons to auto-fire, and the narrow, weighted disks whizzed chaotically across the field. Audrey watched for a moment as Chad dodged around a ring, twisting away from an incoming projectile as he did so. But Audrey could tell he wasn’t fully into it; his turns sloppy and frantic as he touched down at one of the orange cones and sprinted back towards the center of the field. He wasn’t even in full gear, only wearing his helmet and jersey.

He didn’t even seem to see her, though she was sure she was visible enough from her place in the cheerleader’s ring. But she didn’t call out just yet, not wanting to throw off what little focus he had. She regretted it a moment later as Chad hastily barreled out of the way of another missile, but didn’t see the second one still coming. She winces as he catches a glancing blow to his side, and Chad stumbles desperately to the left, dodging around another cone before he collapses to his knees.

She can hear him cursing even before he takes off his helmet, his face flushed and his hair plastered to his forehead as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small remote. He slams the button vigorously and the canons shut off, but not before launching another half-hearted missile across the field. It barely makes it to the ten yard mark, but Audrey is too focused on Chad to worry about it.

It hurts to see him like this; so out of control and, yes- vulnerable. It’s so strikingly different from his usual snarky, controlled self that it doesn’t even feel real. But his heaving shoulders are definitely real, and Audrey bites her lip worriedly as she debates on how to approach him. Then she remembers just where she’s standing, and she straightens to her full height, plastering a smile onto her face and striking a pose.

“Chad, Chad he’s our man! If he can’t do it, no one can!”

Her cheer startles him, if the sudden fumble of his hands is any indication, but he lifts himself to his feet and turns towards her anyway.

“Audrey?” he half pants, half groans. “What the hell?”

“I thought you could use a little lift,” she calls back, ignoring the scowl her words bring.

“I don’t need…” he mutters, but he stops, shaking his head before pushing himself into another drill.

“Let’s go Char-ming, let’s go!” Audrey cheers, and Chad huffs to a stop just outside the cheerleading ring.

“Seriously, Audrey, quit it,” he snaps weakly. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Exactly why I’m here,” she counters, refusing to drop her pose. “The star player of the Auradon Knights deserves at least one cheerleader while he practices.”

Chad scoffs, but his lips twitch slightly, and Audrey grins wider.

“I’m not even the star player,” Chad tries to argue. “Ben is.”

“He’s the honorary star, true,” Audrey agrees with a sly look. “But when it comes to the game, everyone knows you have him beat. But don’t tell him I said that.”

Chad looks like he wants to laugh, but he shakes his head instead, his expression sinking further.

“Come on Chad,” Audrey coaxes. “Just one smile would be nice.”

“Like I said, not in the mood.” His head drops, his chin brushing his chest so Audrey can barely hear him. “I really just…want to be alone right now.”

“Mm, that doesn’t sound like a good idea to me,” Audrey hums lightly, ignoring Chad’s frustrated grunt. “Do you…want to talk?”

“Doesn’t sound like a good idea to me,” he sing songs back, his face twisting mockingly.

“Chad,” Audrey says, stopping him from jogging away again. “Please.”

“What do you want me to say, Audrey?” He snaps then, stalking back over to her, stopping just short of invading the dividing line between them. “What can I possibly say that will make any of this shit ok?”

“It’s not ok,” she agrees, stifling down her own reaction and forcing herself to remain calm. “It’s not ok, and you have every right to be upset about it.”

“Fucking understatement of my life,” he grumbles back, and Audrey presses her lips tightly.

“But you don’t have the right to push everyone else away,” she counters firmly. “We’re you’re friends, Chad. We are here for you.”

“Yeah, just like Auradon is ‘here for me’,” he retorts, pacing a frantic line before turning and walking back. “You know what sucks the most? The fact that they can sit there on their asses and say ‘well maybe villains do deserve a chance’ in one breath, and screw over my mom in the next.”

“Chad…”

“They have more compassion for a bunch of villains than they ever did for her!” Chad turns and throws his helmet across the field, the hardened plastic bouncing once before rolling to stop at the edge of the bleachers.

“None of us think that way,” Audrey says, when he’s finished yelling, and she finally gets a smile, but it’s too twisted and bitter to count.

“Yeah, ok,” Chad says, turning to retrieve his helmet, but Audrey reaches out and grabs his arm, turning him back.

 “Believe me when I tell you that none of us think that way about you, or your mother. We’re your friends, Chad. It’s what we’re here for.”

He’s silent a moment, his eyes more grey than blue in the afternoon lighting. He draws a breath that shakes too much, and when he speaks he talks to row of bleachers behind her.

“I talked to her. Just now.”

“You did? Really?” Audrey can’t help her surprised tone this time, but he doesn’t comment on it right away. “How uh, how is she?”

“Are you asking because you really care, or because you’re obligated to act concerned as part of your ‘patronizing Auradon citizen’ thing?”

“Have I ever been fake with you?” she retorts, and his eyes flicker, but he says nothing. “So, how is she?”

“She’s…ok, actually,” he says, and he lets out a little sound that might be a laugh. “Wasn’t happy about that letter Fairy Godmother sent about the fight, though. Got an earful for that. Probably deserved it for being such an ass.”

“Probably,” Audrey says, and Chad shoots her a look, but he’s smiling just a little, and she considers it almost a success.

“She was excited, though, about Ben’s decree. Real excited. But that’s not a surprise since she was one of the top advocates for it. Dad…not so much.”

He makes a face, but shakes it aside before Audrey can comment on it.

“But I did ask her…I asked her if she ever thought about…the other half of our family. On the Isle. And if it was actually possible for a villain to be redeemed.”

Audrey tenses slightly, but he’s still not quite looking at her, so he misses the movement. “What did she say?”

“She said that she thought about them all the time; hoping that they were ok and that they were safe. She said that it’s only because of her belief in redemption that she was able to get as far as she did…and that I should write to Aunt Anastasia for the story from her end.”

“Well, that’s good advice,” Audrey offers, but Chad is frowning again, his brow furrowed in worry.

“I don’t know. I think…I think it might be, but I can’t….” He trails off, his hands lifting to run through his tangled hair, his fingers tugging anxiously at the sweaty locks.

“You can’t reconcile her forgiveness with the terrible things her family did,” Audrey guesses, and Chad tugs so hard at his hair that he winces.

“Her family,” she repeats bitterly. “Our family…my family! That’s what really gets me. She was against the Isle from the beginning, but she’s so happy about Ben’s decree because she thinks that if this group succeeds, Auradon will bring another group over. She’s excited, because she can use her influence- Dad’s influence really, because who would listen to her?- to convince them to bring my cousin over.”

Audrey blinks, trying to process the slew of words that had come from his mouth. “Your cousin?” She manages, and Chad’s lips quirk again into a half-smile.

“Yeah. Apparently, I have a cousin over there. Antoine. Aunt Drizella’s.”

“I didn’t know that,” Audrey murmurs, and Chad snorts, rolling his eyes.

“That’s the point,” he says. “You’re not supposed to know. No one is, until the next group is chosen. But it turns out that even Aunt Drizella isn’t so horrible, and actually wrote to Mom when he was born. To brag, mostly; about how ‘perfect’ he was. But still, she wrote.”

“How old is he, then?” Audrey wonders out loud. “And who’s his…?”

“Don’t,” Chad cuts across her quickly, his face suddenly not so flushed. “It…you don’t…just, no.”

“Did Drizella write…?”

“Implications, mostly,” Chad grimaces. “And ‘grown up’ conversations that I wasn’t supposed to hear. But apparently the Isle really isn’t all that pleasant when you’re a young and vaguely beautiful aristocratic woman. Even if it is all former.”

Audrey doesn’t even want to think about what that means, but of course, finds herself thinking anyway, and the images and ideas her brain throws at her are enough to make her sick. She forces her thoughts aside, and tries to return to a lighter thread.

“Why Antoine?” she asks, and Chad blinks. “I mean, you’d think Drizella would have given him a name more…after hers.”

“She did,” Chad says. “She named him Darian. And he’s two years younger than me; so he’d be 16 by now. Apparently his name meant ‘gift’ or something. Lady Tremaine renamed him Antoine, as a sort of bitter, mocking thing of Anastasia.”

“Well that’s….”

“Fucked up?” Chad offers wryly.

“I’d have used a different word,” Audrey mumbles, but he wasn’t exactly wrong, so she doesn’t argue further.

“Yeah, well, word choice aside, she still wants him here in Auradon. But that also requires acknowledging the whole thing in the first place; admitting that Auradon was wrong in placing them there and also…forgiving them for everything.”

Oh, there it was. That’s what he was so upset about. And Audrey understood it completely. How can you forgive someone who destroyed your life so horribly? Even her own parents would never even think about doing such a thing for Maleficent, and considering everything Chad and his family had already gone through, there really was no wonder he was lashing out.

“Are you going to?” Audrey asks carefully, stepping just a little closer.

“I don’t know,” he says, and his voice is thick and raw with rarely shown emotion. “But Mom thinks I should try. It’s what she wants, anyway. For the sake of family.”

“And what do you want?”

Chad looks at her then, his jaw set despite the unshed tears in his eyes. “I want to forget it ever happened. I want to ignore her; deny her and pretend she doesn’t exist again for the sake of ‘fitting in’ and ‘making friends.’”

He draws a sharp hiss of a breath, blinking hard before continuing, his voice hard despite the way it shook. “And I want to find de Vil, and finish what I started in that hallway with Jay.”

“Now who’s faking?” Audrey replies softly, and that’s all it really takes for Chad to crumple, sobbing into the grass at her feet.

She falls with him, placing one hand on his shoulder while the other rubs gentle circles across his back. There’s nothing she can say to this; no words of comfort or helpful platitudes will erase the years of pain and repressed emotion. So Audrey says nothing, and just lets him scream and cry and curse, and she thinks that maybe sometimes that is the better option. Talking was overrated, anyway. 

When he finally goes quiet, Audrey leans closer, wrapping her arms around him in a brief, but reassuring hug. He pulls away first, and she lets him, standing and straightening out her skirt and hair, feigning obliviousness while letting him compose himself.

“You ok?” she finally asks, and he looks at her fully this time, smiling broadly.

“Oh, always,” he says, and Audrey feels a slight pull of sadness at his smile. “Now come on, if I’m going to be sulking and avoiding the party I’d better at least not be a sweaty wreck.”

Audrey lets him go, and sighs to herself a moment before following. She crosses the field to the bleachers and stoops to grab his helmet, rubbing her palm across the grass stain on the side. Always ok, she thinks. And it’s true…painfully true. Has to be true, because he really couldn’t afford to be anything less.

His smile was what had done it for her. Because despite all her attempts to make him do just that, his smile has been a ‘Chad smile’; just a plaster on face to keep in place just long enough to keep everyone else happy, and never mind just how much you weren’t happy inside.

And of course, she would know. She’d taught him that smile, after all.

Mal

The food stash Jay had brought had been the best thing about being at Auradon, hands down. Even with the regular meals - the fucking scheduled meals!- it was more than comforting to have that familiarity back, especially once the boys started fighting over it. Evie had sorted the whole thing, and once the unwrapped food had been devoured, Mal had taken the time to open her own little package that she’d swiped.

Carlos was trying to teach Jay, unsuccessfully, how the puzzle cube worked, while Evie continued outlining her sewing. The package was small and round, silvery with red stripes on the front. Mal frowns at the sealed ends before simply biting through one side and tearing with her teeth. Ever effective, the package opens with a soft ripping sound, and Mal quickly catches the little thing that falls out.

It’s small and round, a bright red color that definitely couldn’t be real food. Mal makes a face at its stickiness, but when she licks her palm experimentally, she’s surprised by the flavor; tart and sweet, like some kind of fruit. She examines the food, and thinks that it must be some kind of candy, and notices that it’s wound up almost like a coil of rope.

Unwinding it, the candy ball turns into a little strip, and Mal rips off a small piece and shoves it into her mouth before she can start second guessing. Hesitating with even a crumb of food back home meant you didn’t get the food at all. The strip is a little sour, but ultimately, Mal decides she likes it, and tears another piece off for herself before letting out a soft, breathy whistle.

“Hey C,” she calls, when she has his attention. “Try this.”

She tosses the roll over and smirks when Jay catches it instead, ignorant of Carlos’ protests as he examines it closely.

“What is it?” Jay murmurs, finding the end of the candy strip and pulling it apart.

“Some kind of candy,” she answers with a shrug. “It’s not chocolate, but it’s sweet enough.”

Carlos grins, and leaps at Jay with more fervor, wiggling his way through the other boy’s grip and snatching the treat, shoving the whole roll into his mouth before Jay can even get a breath to yell.

Evie rolls her eyes with a disgusted sigh, but Mal finds herself actually enjoying the sight. To see the two boy’s so relaxed, even with Jay still injured. The fact that they were in a room of their own, secure, safe- and that it’s no longer a match for survival so much as it’s simple…play. It’s foreign.

So foreign that it’s dangerous, and Mal scowls, her brow furrowing even further as she realizes she’d been genuinely smiling.

“Ok guys, listen up,” she snaps, and the boys look up from their tangle of limbs while Evie quickly drops her sewing, straightening on the bed beside her.

“Just because we’ve made it a week doesn’t mean we get to relax, or lose focus. We could have been killed in any number of ways getting like this at home, so why is here any different?”

“Because it is…?” Jay drawls slowly, dropping Carlos to the floor, the smaller boy landing with a thump and a yelp.

“It’s not,” Mal insists. “We still need to be careful here, now more than ever. They already know too much about us, and with the attack on Jay and Carlos, they also know that we can be vulnerable. Weak.”

Jay frowns, and Evie opens her mouth to say something but Mal cuts her off.

“We need to stick together, and stick to the plan. Find the wand, and take over Auradon. Ok?”

“Right,” Jay murmurs, gripping his crutch tightly. “So then, no party?”

Mal feels the burn before her anger catches up to her, and she glances down to see a faint snapping of sparks stinging her palms.

“Jay, seriously?”

“I mean, hey, I was just asking,” he says, lifting his hands defensively and then grimacing as his support falls away.

“M, it’s ok,” Evie says, and Mal bristles as the sparks flash a little brighter. “I get that things haven’t been the best so far, but we have made it. We’re still together, and we’re safe for once in our lives. Shouldn’t we enjoy it?”

“Just relax and enjoy it? Where have I heard that before?” Mal retorts, and she can feel the tight pinch in her throat that means her voice is shaking, but she forces the feeling aside.

Evie flinches, and Carlos goes pale, but it’s Jay who answers her, his voice level and the exact opposite of Mal’s own.

“Pretty sure we’ve all heard it before, Mal,” he says quietly. “But we’re still here. Still alive and still together, and nothing’s going to change that.”

“Nothing except for some friendly Auradon kids who throw parties and invite you to their tables in an attempt to get you to lower your guard so they can divide and conquer.”

“Mal, come on. It’s not like that at all,” Evie says, but the other girl still looks shaken, and while Mal regrets her harsh words from earlier, she can’t give in to that now.

“I mean, Carlos ate breakfast with them, right? And that went fine,” Jay says, slowly, and with a pitch of a question in his voice as he turns to the smaller boy.

Carlos nods, his left hand coming up in a fist shape to ‘knock’ at the air in front of him. He then brings a flat palm to his lips and brings it down to rest against his right hand, outstretched in another flat palm.

[Yes. It was good.]

“See?” Jay says, but Carlos isn’t finished signing yet, and Mal bites her lip in an attempt to remain patient.

He fingerspells A-U-R-A-D-O-N, before bringing his right hand up into a flat palm level with his torso; sliding his left hand parallel across it in a flat palm shape. He hesitates a moment, then finishes by pointing at himself; before bring his left hand up in a flat ‘five’ palm shape against his chest; he pulls his hand out and brings together his middle and thumb fingers; before bringing his hand up to point emphatically at the area in front of him.

[Auradon is nice. I like it here.]

“That’s great, I’m glad you think it’s so nice,” Mal replies shortly, before realizing that she really did like being in Auradon, too. “Shit.”

Carlos blinks, looking unsure, his hands fidgeting with the dog tail at his belt.

“M?” Evie asks softly, and Mal shakes her head.

“It is nice. And I hate it, and I still don’t know how we’re going to get the wand or last another day, let alone another week. But fuck, it is nice.”

“Mal, this isn’t like at home where relaxing means dying,” Jay says, and Mal hates that knowing look in his eyes, hates the tightness she can feel settling around her throat. “Sure, ok, we had a rough start, but when has anything been easy for us?”

“I feel like I’m being given a pep talk by Fairy Godmother,” Mal mutters, but their words are somehow more than reassuring.

She’d never had anyone to rely on, not even her mother was one for things like ‘comfort’ or ‘caring.’ Mal had learned at a young age the dangers of such sentiments. But to be in Auradon, to be in a place that actively encouraged such things…it was getting harder and harder for Mal to ignore it.

“I just…I worked too hard for something like you guys and…I’m not going to let Auradon take it from me.”

It’s too much emotion for her, and yet it feels strangely right. It’s solidified when she feels a soft, warm pressure from her left, which is rapidly joined by another warm presence to her right, and a thick, fuzzy softness wiggling its way through the tangle to press against her back.

“As if we’d ever let anything get between us,” Evie murmurs from her left, her arms squeezing tightly around Mal’s torso.

“Especially not a bunch of prissy princes and perfect princes,” Jay scoffs lightly from her right.

Carlos’ curls nuzzle softly against the back of her neck as he wraps his arms further around her, and Mal feels a sharp prickle of tears, and blinks hard as she lets out a sound that;s half laugh, half sob.

“Well, fuck, guys,” she hisses through the lump in her throat. “What am I supposed to say to that?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Evie whispers.

And Mal doesn’t actually cry, of course she doesn’t. And she’d murder anyone who dared to suggest that she’d come pretty close.

Beast

“Belle, which looks better: the blue or the yellow?”

Belle laughs softly, glancing over her shoulder at him as she fastens a gold chain around her neck. “I think either one will be fine, dear,” she says, but Adam frowns anyway, glaring at the ties in his hand.

“How am I supposed to dress for an…event…like this?” he asks, grimacing as he thinks on it. ‘Event’ was a generous word, in his mind. The whole thing was generous.

“You dress how you always dress,” Belle retorts with a smirk. “Honestly, Adam. You’ve been King for how long?”

“Longer than I would have thought possible if not for you,” he replies instantly, sighing as he slips the yellow tie around his neck, tossing the blue one back into the drawer.

“Well, that may be true,” Belle answers with another laugh. “But I think you can dress yourself for one garden luncheon.”

“You make it sound so simple,” he grumbles, turning to straighten his tie in the mirror. “Like we’re not going to have a garden luncheon with a group of young villains.”

Her reflection frowns at him, and he looks away from her sheepishly.

“Adam,” she begins slowly. “We discussed this, didn’t we?”

“We have,” he sighs warily. “But discussion or not, it doesn’t change the facts, Belle. The facts! That we are going to have lunch with…”

“With our son and his friends, and the children that we have hospitably welcomed into our kingdom,” she finishes firmly, glaring at him through the mirror.

“Our son,” he repeats just as firmly. “Who doesn’t seem to fully understand just what he’s allowed into the kingdom.”

“I think he understands far more than you give him credit for,” Belle scolds mildly. “And complaining about it won’t make it go away. Besides, we’ve been invited, it would be rude to say no.”

“I’m used to being rude,” he tries, but she rolls her eyes at his attempt, turning away to retrieve a pair of shoes from her closet.

He takes a moment to admire her, still not entirely sure how he’d managed to hang onto her for so long. It really was a fairy tale ending, and yet it still didn’t feel real to him. At least, not until the villains had finally made their reentry.

“What is this lunch party even for?” he asks, as he shrugs into royal blue Auradon jacket and Belle comes up with a simple, yet elegant pair of sandals.

“I believe he said it was to celebrate the children’s first full week in Auradon,” she replies, and he shakes his head because only their son would think of such a thing.

“He has a good heart,” he concedes with a soft smile. “I’m certain he gets it from you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Belle replies as she slips her arm into his. “I wouldn’t have stayed for anywhere near as long as I did if I hadn’t seen something good in you.”

“Well I suppose that’s comforting,” he says, and she smiles at him just as fondly as she had during their first dinner.

“Now, shall we?” she asks, gesturing to the door and all that waited beyond.

“We might as well,” he teases lightly. “Or we’ll have gotten all dressed up for nothing.”

And never mind the fact that he still thought it was all going to back fire horribly. He would do his best to at least try and be supportive. If only for his family’s sake.

Mal

“I already hate everything.”

“It looks amazing,” Evie squeals beside her, and Mal grimaces, resisting the urge to gag as she takes in the gardens.

Everything is covered in ribbons and bows, balloons tied to each table and perfectly color coordinated with the Auradon school colors. There’s even banners everywhere that say ‘Congratulations!’ in alternating blue and yellow letters. Not to mention the people; everyone dressed up in bright colors and horrifying shades of pink and gold and….

“Nope, I’m going back to the room,” Mal snaps, shaking her head and turning to do just that when Jay grabs her by the shoulder and turns her around.

“Come on, Mal,” he mutters. “This was your idea.”

“It was not my idea,” she retorts quickly. “It was his.” She glares at Carlos, who’s frozen in something halfway between shock and awe, his eyes wide as he tries to stare at everything at once.

“But you agreed to it,” Evie puts in unhelpfully from her left. “So yeah, it’s your idea.”

“My idea involved finding and stealing a certain magical artifact,” she tries to argue, but Jay rolls his eyes and swings himself forward to join Carlos at the front. 

“It’ll be fun,” Evie insists with a grin. “Come on Mal, when was the last time you really had fun?”

Mal frowns, and thinks for a moment before answering. “That time when I was ten and hexed one of the shopkeepers who tried to punish me for stealing from him. He couldn’t walk for like, a week.”

“Ok…that doesn’t count,” Evie drawls slowly, but Mal can see her trying not to laugh.

“I don’t think this counts as fun either, though,” Mal argues, glancing back towards the party. No one has noticed them hovering around the edges yet, but she’s certain it’s only a matter of time before they’re spotted.

“It will be,” Evie insists quietly, sensing her reluctance. “We’re all together and safe for the first time in our lives. Plus,” she adds with a very Evie-like smirk. “There’s cute boys and cute clothes and food everywhere, and it’s all for us so we might as well help ourselves.”

“Only you, E,” Mal mutters, shaking her head, but the tense coil in her gut has lessened some, and she slips up to stand closer to the boys, who shuffle around to make room for her.

“We got this, right?” she asks them, and Jay nods with a sly glint in his eye.

“Oh yeah,” he says, and Mal glances to see Carlos has a similar look on his face.

“Auradon w-won’t know what hit thththem.”

Alright then, Mal reasons to herself with a nod. How can she argue with that confidence?

“Let’s do it then,” she says, and strides forward, lifting her head high as they fall in around her.

She heads for the center pavilion first, deciding it best to tackle things head on, but a shout from their left brings them to a halt.

“Hey, you guys made it!”

She deflates, all her earlier spark and drive driven from her with a disgusted snarl.

“Aziz,” she growls the boy’s name, and he laughs in the face of her hostility, winking at Evie before launching himself at the other half of their group like an over-excited two year old.

“Jay! Carlos!” He swings himself around the taller of the two before swooping down and ruffling the smaller’s hair. “You guys have to check out the field! We set up an obstacle course and some other stuff out there I know you’re going to love!”

Mal clears her throat sharply, and Aziz looks up, blinking at her innocently. “We literally only came for the food,” Mal says coldly, and Aziz blinks again before laughing.

“Right, well that would be the giant tent over to the left there,” he says, pointing it out to them. “Help yourself, but don’t touch the cake. We’re saving that for later.”

“Cake?” Jay questions with a lift of his brow, but a new voice breaks in; young and male, with a slight accent almost like a song in his voice.

“There you are Aziz,” the voice says. “I wondered where you ran off to.”

“I told you where I was going, Nikki,” Aziz replies, straightening and smiling broadly at the newcomer.

“No,” the voice, now Nikki, drawls. “You shouted something along the lines of ‘holy crap, be right back,’ before sprinting across the field like a child.”

Mal snorts softly, deciding that she rather liked this guy and his attitude. Her amusement is noticed by Aziz, unfortunately, who gasps and darts around to stand next to the other boy.

“Introductions!” he announces, before drawing a slow breath, adopting a far more formal manner. “Guys this is Nikhil, son of Naveen and Tiana. Nikki this is everyone.”

“Hi,” Mal says quickly, if only to get it out of the way, but she can’t deny the slight shiver that goes through her when the boy looks at her and smiles.

“Hello,” he replies cheerily, inclining his head politely before turning and greeting Evie and Jay as well. His eyes fall on Carlos, and his head jerks back with a soft, but not unpleasant laugh.

“And I know who you are,” he says, and Mal glances at Carlos, surprised. Her surprise turns to concern when she notices that Carlos is fidgeting, his hands rapidly twisting his dog tail into a ropy mess. She frowns, and lifts a hand to sign; to ask if he’s ok, but Nikhil’s next words give her pause.

“Aziz talks about you and Jay all the time. And I would be jealous except,” he shrugs, and Carlos fidgets a little harder, and that’s definitely something a little more than just nervousness on his face.

“Jealous?” Mal cuts in, being sure to lace her voice with every bit of warning and danger she can muster.

Nikhil doesn’t catch it, but Aziz definitely does, and he straightens sharply, stepping forward and placing a hand on the other boy’s arm. Nikhil stops talking, and Aziz’s lips twitch in a brief but wary smile.

“Sorry, he can be a bit much once you get him going,” he says. “Then again, I am too, but uh…what else can you expect?”

He tries for a laugh, but Carlos is still clearly nervous about something, and Mal was not about to back down until she knew what.

“What did he mean by that, though? About being jealous?” She presses, and hears Carlos whisper her name anxiously behind her.

“Oh,” Aziz chuckles, waving his hand as though to brush it off. “Right, you guys don’t do jokes. He was just teasing, pretending to be jealous that I talk about other guys when I’m with him.”

“With?” Mal repeats slowly, narrowing her eyes at the two of them suspiciously.

There was every chance that it wasn’t what she was thinking of, and she certainly hoped to the depths of Hell that it wasn’t. That sort of thing didn’t fly, even by Isle standards, and while Auradon was insane and mixed up, she couldn’t believe that they’d really let that happen. Would they?

Aziz looks slightly caught off guard by her hostility, as does Nikhil, but then both boys straighten, and Aziz draws a slow breath that is far more solemn and serious than Mal would have thought him capable of.

“Guys,” he says slowly, and Mal tenses at the serious note in his voice. “Nikki is my boyfriend.”

Jane

The last thing Jane wanted was to be at the VKs party. Not because she didn’t like them, or anything. But parties meant having to wear a nice dress, and make up, and hair…and Jane had none of that. Parties of any kind never ended well for her, and usually involved laughter, stains and tears, sometimes in that order.

But this party at least, she could try and pretend to enjoy, if only because there was a chance that the VKs might actually show up and she could talk with Carlos again. She didn’t know what it was about him, but she found she could actually talk to him, without fear or retaliation, and the fact that she could see he enjoyed being with her just as much…well, it was the sparkle on the glass slipper in Jane’s mind.

Though it would be nice if they actually showed up. Jane slides up next to Ben, lifting her head to glance at the other boy to see him scanning the grounds anxiously.

“Nothing?” She asks, and Ben starts, turning to her in surprise.

“Oh, Jane,” he sighs with a brief laugh. “Sorry, no. No sign of them yet. I was really hoping they’d be here…I mean, they accepted my invitation.”

“They did accept?”

Jane is relieved to hear that. It meant that they were opening up to the idea of Auradon, at least.

“Yeah, but apparently Dad needed some convincing,” Ben murmurs quietly, staring down into his cup. “I just wish he could see it my way sometimes.”

“Wait,” Jane frowns, confused. “You mean your parents?”

“Yeah,” Ben says, lifting his head to frown back at her. “Why, what did you…?”

“I thought you were talking about the VKs!” Jane gasps, flushing with embarrassment. “Oh, I feel so stupid now!”

“You’re not stupid, Jane,” Ben assures quickly with a laugh. “I guess I didn’t really make it clear. But there’s no sign of Mal or the others, either, so….”

“I hope they come,” Jane murmurs, staring forlornly out over the field. “I already feel bad that Chad’s not here.”

“You really think that’d be a good idea, though?” Doug chimes in, sliding up to Jane’s left and handing her a cup of punch.

“No, I don’t,” she is quick to continue, accepting the drink with a shy smile. “But I feel bad that he’s ruined things so much for himself that he won’t be able to enjoy this.”

“Well I for one, am definitely enjoying this,” Aziz adds, grinning widely over the fields. “That obstacle course couldn’t be better if it were designed by my dad himself.”

“Oh and what,” Nikhil pouts, plucking idly at his guitar strings. “My contribution means nothing?”

“We’re talking practical stuff now, dear,” Aziz says, adopting a solemn and mock condescending tone. “I’ll call you if we need alternatives.”

Jane giggles despite herself, and Audrey takes Doug’s spot beside her as the other boy moves back to the table of food.

“I think we did a great job, guys,” the head cheerleader sighs happily, leaning into Ben’s shoulder. “Even if the VKs don’t show, we should at least enjoy the hard work we put in.”

“Any excuse for a party,” Ben sighs, shaking his head, but his smile betrays him.

A horn honk cuts through the relaxed atmosphere, and at the same moment, Aziz lets out a sound that’s half gasp, half yell.

“Holyshitholyshitholyshit, guys!”

“Aziz,” Ben says, startled, and Jane glares at him, adding her own voice of disapproval.

“Sorry guys,” he says, sounding breathless and not looking apologetic at all. “But holy shit I’ll be right back!”

And he takes off across the field without another word, grinning ear to ear. Ben lifts a brow, and Jane exchanges a shrug with Lonnie, who’d just jogged up from the obstacle course. Nikhil slips his guitar back over his shoulder and onto his back, frowning as he points in the direction the other boy had gone.

“Should I…?”

“Probably,” Doug offers.

An enthusiastic whoop echoes across the field, and Doug frowns.

“But maybe wait a bit.”

Nikhil chuckles, shaking his head before walking slowly out of the tent, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath that Jane can’t catch.

“Ok,” Ben says with a quick huff of breath, smoothing his hair and adjusting the cuffs on his blazer. “So who wants to be my support group for welcoming my parents to the party?”

“Actually,” Lonnie says, pointing back in the direction she’d come. “I don’t think I’ve thoroughly crushed all the guys on the course yet.”

“And you wonder why they won’t let you on the Tourney team,” Audrey teases, and Lonnie frowns, pointing sternly.

“Don’t even.”

Jane stifles a laugh and glances back in the direction Aziz and Nikil had gone. “Actually, I think I’m going to join them and see what’s going on. Judging by the way Aziz looked like it was Christmas, I think the VKs might be here.”

“If they are, don’t bring them this way until I make sure my parents are going to behave,” Ben pleads, and Jane nods, unable to stop her laugh from escaping.

“I’ll do my best,” she promises, before jogging off after the two boys.

She couldn’t believe they had actually made it. Excitement, along with a healthy dose of nerves, filled Jane as she ran. It would be the first time she’d meet with Carlos in a setting like this, and without any needles or awkward tension or complex machinery. Just the two of them, talking and maybe interacting as…friends? More than friends?

She blushes at the thought, but she wouldn’t deny that the youngest of the VKs had a certain appeal about him. But Jane wasn’t about to ruin what small friendship they might have kindled over something like that. Still, she could dream…

She’s so caught up in her thoughts and excitement to see Carlos that she almost misses the raised voices, and she stops short, blinking as she tries to understand what she was seeing. She hears before she sees; a pavilion tent in between her and her objective, but there’s no mistaking an argument. She hears Aziz, voice strained with emotion, and the VKs; Mal and Jay’s voices being the loudest, and she doesn’t understand any of what is being said: too much confusion and chaos and emotion.

And then Aziz and Nikhil come rushing through the pavilion; or rather, Aziz stumbles, his face pinched tightly with emotion, Nikhil not far behind. Aziz doesn’t stop for a moment, almost barreling into Jane, and Nikhil offers her a wince of sympathy before calling out to the other boy.

“Hey, calm down. You almost killed Jane.” 

He tries for teasing, but there’s a strain in his voice, too, and Aziz growls before kicking a nearby chair.

“Calm down!” he hisses, and Jane realizes it’s anger that his face is tight with, that anger only barely under control. “Sure, Nikki, I’ll be fucking calm.”

Jane flinches at the vulgarity, but neither boy is entirely aware of her presence, and Jane is relieved at least, that the tent muffles some of the volume. She’s certain that everyone can hear anyway, but her attention is drawn back to the two boys in the tent when Aziz lets out another curse, and Jane bites her lips anxiously.

“It’s not like…,” Nikhil starts, but then he catches himself, and Aziz bares his teeth in a vicious grimace.

“Not like we haven’t heard it before?” he finishes, and Jane is startled by the ferocity in his tone.

“Well,” Nikhil says simply, ever the voice of calm, but there’s a sadness in his eyes that doesn’t match his demeanor. “I’m only saying…”

“Did you fucking hear what I heard?” Aziz snaps, pacing a frantic line, ignorant of everything else. “And you have the nerve….”

“What…what happened?” Jane whispers, hardly daring to speak louder for fear of shattering the already fragile atmosphere.

Nikhil winces, and Aziz stiffens, his head jerking sharply as he shakes it back and forth.

“Nothing I shouldn’t have seen coming,” Aziz answers after a moment. “I should have seen it, that’s the thing! I should have fucking seen it and yet ironically enough, I never would have thought….”

“Introductions didn’t go very well with the VKs,” Nikhil supplies in an undertone, and Aziz snorts bitterly.

“Didn’t go well….”

“I don’t get it,” Jane starts to say, but Aziz is answering even before the words have left her mouth.

“So I go to introduce Nikki, as my boyfriend,” he’s quick to emphasize, and Jane nods her head slowly to show she’s following, despite the sudden pang of anxiety that grips her. “And…they just….”

He splutters weakly, blinking hard as he wrings his hands desperately.

“They didn’t take to it very well,” Nikhil murmurs.

Aziz lets out another choked snort, before cocking his hip and twisting his face into a mocking feminine impression.

“’But you’re so good looking!’” he gasps, in an overly exaggerated and high pitched tone before dropping back into his own voice. “Like, seriously? What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?”

“Thank you?” Nikhil drawls with a half-hearted shrug.

“It’s not a fucking compliment, Nikki!”

“I know hon, I was trying.”

“Fuck that,” Aziz growls. “Fuck them.”

“You don’t mean that,” Nikhil murmurs softly, taking a step towards his fuming boyfriend while Jane fidgets uncomfortably.

“Yes I do,” Aziz retorts quickly, before deflating as he catches Nikhil’s eye. “No I don’t.”

“I don’t understand,” Jane says nervously, her fingers tugging at the bow on her dress. “They insulted you guys?”

Aziz falls silent, surprisingly enough, and Nikhil sucks in a sharp breath before sighing his response.

“Apparently, and this is a direct quote from Mal, here: ‘Not even the Isle allows that sort of fucked up shit.’”

Jane winces again, not just at the language, but the words themselves. “Ow,” she mutters, biting her lip. “That’s…”

“Not to mention Jay’s sarcastic, ‘Suddenly it all makes sense,’ comment,” Nikhil continues, shaking his head.

“And I’m not even going to repeat what else Evie said,” Aziz grumbles with a shiver, his face twisting in what Jane can’t tell is disgust or anger. Maybe both.

“Carlos was the worst, though,” Nikhil sighs in an undertone.

Jane tenses, drawing in her breath in nervous anticipation. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what Carlos might have done that could make any of this ‘worse.’ She didn’t want to, either; didn’t want to hear or see, didn’t want the reminder of the fact that he was a villain.

“What did he say?” she asks, the question slipping unbidden past her lips.

Aziz shakes his head, a sad, bitter laugh pulling at his expression. “Nothing,” he says. “And that’s why it was the worst. He just…kept looking at me like…like I was some kind of monster.”

“I’m sorry,” Jane says, because it’s the only thing she can manage without throwing up or crying.

“Yeah well, what else could I have expected, right?” Aziz tries to shrug, to smile even though Jane can tell how much pain he’s in.

“Aziz,” Nikhil tries, but Aziz pulls away again, shaking his head.

“No, it’s whatever. I mean, never trust a villain.”

And then he’s gone, shoving through the tent flaps and stalking away across the field. Jane doesn’t trust her voice enough…doesn’t trust the words she might say to make any of this ok.

“Well fuck,” Nikhil deadpans.

And Jane supposes that’s close enough.

Jay

Death had a way of stalking Jay, even as young as nine. Jafar had little to no sense of value of a person’s life, and it was only fitting, given his snake life nature, that Jay had learned at least six ways to poison a person by the time he was four. By the time he turned six, he’d seen his first murder. And by the time he’d turned nine, he’d slit his first throat.

Now, at eleven, Jay had fatally poisoned eight people, and killed two. Despite this, he had still complained to his dad after the meeting with Maleficent. The ‘family trade’ was just that: family, and despite his father’s obviously fleeting affections, it was something of a betrayal to teach someone else how to kill. Especially if that someone else was a weak little girl.

He’d earned himself a beating and a week without food for that one.

“That ‘weak little girl’,” Jafar had snarled between Jay’s screams and the lash of the whip. “Is the key to getting off this miserable rock! Keeping in Maleficent’s good graces and teaching the bitch to kill is the most important thing you’ll ever do with your miserable excuse of a life.”

Jay hadn’t complained after that…not that he’d even been physically able to after a chance blow had cut across his face; slicing into his cheek and lips and leaving him painfully mute for weeks. He’d been glad for the starvation punishment then, certain that anything more than breathing would cause his entire face to split open.

Jay shivered to himself, shaking his head and shoving the thoughts away as he glared through the dark of the alley at the man he was following. According to his dad, not only did this man run a rather profitable side business, he also happened to hold a significant portion of debt over Jafar. Most of it had been cleared away through various business deals, but apparently the man wasn’t entirely satisfied and was still demanding payment.

Which wouldn’t have been a problem expect for the fact that his dad was refusing to pay. And then the threats had started piling up; shadowy figures breaking into the shop and writing graphic (and entertainingly profane) warnings on the walls in Arabic. And blood.

The stress of it all was wearing on Jafar, and in turn, wearing on Jay’s back. He grimaced as he rolled his shoulder, the healing cuts pulling sharply at the movement. If this guy didn’t meet with an unfortunate accident soon, it would be Jay’s blood that stained the shop’s walls next.

The man darted from the alley suddenly, and Jay leapt to the balls of his feet, fingering the vial sewn into the sleeve of his shirt nervously. It was only as a last resort, and the knife in his right hand would do well enough, but if things went bad, Jay preferred the thought of a quick death to the fate of slitting his own wrists.

But it wouldn’t come to that anyway because Jay was a master at this point. He was only eleven and had already killed more than most of the pathetic rats on the Island. Not to mention the poison. They hadn’t died, those eight he’d slipped vials to, but the torture they’d experienced had been achievement enough. He could easily take down one creep in an alleyway.

He grinned to himself, inching forward after the man as silently as shadow itself, blending easily against the mud stained brick and decreasing the distance between them with every step. The trick was to wait for them to move first; match their footsteps and don’t let them know you were stalking them until the very end. Then let their fear get the better of them. Don’t run, just walk, and strike once they’d exposed their soft throats and undersides.

The lessons his dad had drilled into him- the very ones he was teaching Maleficent’s daughter- echoed through Jay’s mind as he drew closer to his target. The man had stopped, his head high and eyes watchful and wide as he scanned the street beyond him. Jay bit his tongue hard to keep his laugh from spilling out. The bastard was as good as dead.

And then suddenly, unexplainably, Jay was in pain, his lungs threatening to turn inside out as his breath was stolen forcibly from his body.

A laugh shattered the dark, high and delirious with sadistic glee. The sound would have made Jay shiver, if his body wasn’t already seizing with agony.

“Did Jafar really think he could kill me so easily?”

The man was little more than a dark blur in Jay’s vision, but he grit his teeth and swung forward with his knife anyway, pain exploding behind his eyes at his attempt. The man scoffed, and a harsh, grating noise sounded before something thick and wet hit Jay’s face.

“Ghaba’” the man spat. “Stupidity! Foolishness.”

His voice softened slightly, and Jay almost choked on his next breath as his body scrambled to adjust to the renewal of air. The man’s grip on him shifted, adjusted so his fingers fluttered along Jay’s ribs.

“Foolish boy,” he repeated, his voice low and thick with something Jay couldn’t define but knew meant danger and death. “Shall we go pay a visit to your father?”

A visit to his dad was the last thing Jay wanted. Not like this…not with the man’s head still firmly attached to his body. And while Jay was far from cowardly, he couldn’t deny that the thought of facing his father now was enough to make him sick with fear.

It was like the man could sense it, too; Jay had suddenly been dethroned by Death. True Death, embodied in the form of the man before him.

“Don’t worry fool boy,” he crooned softly, his voice thickening with that dangerous thing, his hands slipping further along Jay’s body.

“Pretty boy,” he whispered, his smile wider than any Cat’s. “I’m sure we can come to some kind of…arrangement.”

Bile rose in Jay’s throat, the fear seizing him so strongly he nearly doubled over. Somewhere among the deals with Death and bargains and the blood, he’d forgotten the most important part. And now it was coming back to screw him over. Both literally and figuratively.

To say that his father was displeased at the sight of Jay dangling before him with a sword at his throat would be an understatement. Somewhere along his forceful march back to the shop, the creep had pulled a sword, and took great pleasure at poking it into Jay’s back and sides when he thought the boy was slowing down. Now it was against his throat, the edge of the blade applying just enough pressure that if Jay so much as swallowed wrong it would cut him.

“Dad,” Jay whispered, his voice too high and too strained. Too weak. “Please. Don’t.”

His father’s eyes were dark with fury, his face carved from stone as he glared at Jay. He didn’t need the hissed curse in Arabic to know he would receive no mercy from the man. And he didn’t expect it, he really didn’t. Didn’t even want it; he’d take any punishment, any beating. He’d go without food for a month, even, and he’d take whatever new poisons his dad came up with and suffer gladly. Anything but….

“Please,” Jay tried again, his voice barely a whimper as the man’s fingers moved from gripping his shoulder to teasing the curls at the back of his neck.

“The way I see it, Jafar,” the man said, his voice back to that sadistic glee. “You have two options….”

“Oh please,” Jafar drawled, stopping just short of rolling his eyes. “Let’s not start with that baseless drivel. Just kill the boy and be done with it.”

It was like the sword had already slit him open and he was just flopping uselessly, choking on his own blood. Jay could barely get his mouth to work, and even then, he only managed a quiet sob, the sound tapering off abruptly as the sword pressed against his throat, opening a tiny cut.

“It would be such a shame,” the man continued, unfazed by Jafar’s apathy. “Such a young boy, and pretty. Would be a waste to end such a useful life.”

Jay didn’t know whether to vomit or sob, and his body attempted to do both at once, resulting in another painful cut from the sword, and a sneered curse from his father.

“You’d be doing me a favor,” Jafar all but spat. “Nadhil. Bastard -costs more than he’s worth even with the stealing.”

“Dad,” Jay choked out, and the small cut on his neck burned as the tears inevitably made their way down his face.

“But surely considering your debt, arrangements must still be made, yes?” The man hedged further, his fingers tapping patterns down Jay’s spine. “And no bastard means no income, which means no payment, and I can not have that. You understand, of course.”

“Of course,” Jafar grit out, his own finger curling into a tight fist. “And I’m certain you have something in mind so out with it, then.”

Jay could practically feel the man’s smile as he hovered over his shaking form, the blade lifting minutely as he spoke.

“It would be my pleasure to null the debt, in exchange for your boy’s khadamat…services, if you will.”

Jafar’s lip curled into a mocking impression of a laugh, though his eyes remained as dark as ever, full of unbridled disgust.

“You expect me to…what…whore my son out to you?” Jafar let out a sound that was somewhere between a bark and a laugh. “His blood would be of more use to me than anything you would leave behind afterwards.”

And Jay didn’t know whether to feel relieved by his father’s adamancy, or further stricken, as the blade against his throat suddenly switched positions, and the man’s free hand stopped wandering to once more grip his shoulder firmly.

“Is that your final decision, then?” The disappointment in the man’s voice was hardly able to be heard over Jay’s frantic heart, unfinished pleas and desperate tears all he’s able to muster as he stared up at the man whose blood he was half of.

“As I said, he’d be better to me dead.”

There’s something undefined and heavy suddenly, in the darkness of his father’s eyes. But before Jay could fully grasp for it, the man grunted, and the sword cut ruthlessly across his throat.

Carlos

In all the time Carlos had known him, Jay was never one to be overwhelmed by his feelings, and the older boy definitely had strong feelings. But despite that, he always put forward an image of control, and Carlos had never known him to snap unpredictably like Mal or even Evie had been known to at times.

So to see Jay now, pacing and frantic and on the verge of what Carlos inherently knows is panic, is more than just a little unsettling. The older boy is all but breaking down, his breath coming in harsh gasps and swears, as one hand clenches at his side and the other alternates between tugging at his long hair and rubbing anxiously at his chest.

“Jay?” Carlos whispers softly, fighting against his own rising anxiety. “Just…br-br-breathe, ok?”

“Ok?” Jay hisses, his eyes dark and wild as he shoots Carlos a glare. “No, it’s not fucking ok, Carlos!”

Carlos winces at the ferocity, but he knows it’s not really directed at him. He doesn’t even know what to do, he’d always been on the receiving end of such things, never giving comfort like this.

“I…wh-at can I do?” Carlos tries, glancing around the empty tent and wishing the girls were here. But it was just him and Jay; Mal and Evie having gone to confront things directly before being pulled aside by Ben. Carlos almost wants to be there, too, even if it did mean facing the King again. Anything was better than this.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Jay snaps, drawing another too-short breath and grimacing. “Unless you know any tricks to make sure those two never come near us again.”

A shiver goes through the older boy’s body, and Carlos’ fingers rapidly clip and unclip his dog tail from his belt.

“To think I was this close,” Jay mutters. “This close to…”

Carlos wants to say that it will be ok, that things were different now and that surely they were safe; that Auradon would never have allowed anything like that here…but the words stick in his throat. He doesn’t know the whole story, but he’d heard enough to know that Jay especially, out of all of them, had more than valid reason for concern. And yet he still couldn’t think of Aziz that way. Couldn’t, and wouldn’t…didn’t want to think of what it could mean if it were true.

Jay freezes, suddenly, and Carlos straightens worriedly as the other boy’s face twists with panic. He’s all set to rush up to the other boy and offer whatever attempt he could, but then it passes, and Jay slumps weakly against a nearby table.

“Shit,” he hisses, his eyes and jaw both clenched tightly shut. “Fucking shit.”

“Jay?” Carlos chokes softly, but the other boy straightens just as suddenly as he’s collapsed, smiling so broadly it was scary-far more terrifying than his verge of panic from earlier.

“I think I’m going to run that obstacle course a few times,” Jay chirps out with a sly twitch of his lips. “Show those Auradon royals how it’s done. You in?”

Carlos purses his lips, his brow furrowing sharply as he stares at the other boy. He decides that he doesn’t like an out of control of his emotions Jay, but he wasn’t about to watch him try and shove everything away through aggression. He’d done that once before and he still had nightmares about it.

He shakes his head, deciding to sign instead of trusting his voice to get things right. He signs; bringing his left hand up and tapping his middle and index fingers against his thumb, like a mouth closing; then pointing to himself before making a ‘Y’ shape; gesturing his hand forward slightly with his palm facing the ground.

[No. I’m staying.]

Jay’s expression falters for all of two seconds before he shrugs it off with a laugh. “Suit yourself. Um…but be careful, ok?”

It’s Carlos’ turn to laugh, snorting softly, but nodding his head quickly. “Sssure thing,” he murmurs.

Jay hesitates, looking like he wants to say or do something else, but then he stops, turning and walking abruptly out of the tent.

“You be c-careful too,” Carlos whispers after him, frowning as he moves to stand in the opening of the tent, watching Jay stalk determinedly across the grounds.

Carlos doesn’t have time to wallow in fear for more than a moment before a voice speaks up to his right, quiet and thoughtful.

“You know, it only just occurred to me that I haven’t seen you wear anything but shorts. That’s not just me, right?”

Carlos jumps, turning sharply, but it’s only Jane, and he relaxes, letting the girl’s words sink in a moment before laughing softly.

“N-n-no,” he says slowly. “It’s no-not just you.”

“But seriously?” Jane asks, turning to him with a curious smile. “Have you ever worn pants?”

Carlos shakes his head, making a face. “Nnever. Even when I was little…and Cr-Cruella did try once, pu-put me in pants.”

“Oh?” Jane murmurs, lifting a brow. “How’d that go?”

Carlos chuckles sheepishly, dropping his eyes to the grass. “I pulled them o-o-ff and refused to wwear anything in protest.”

Jane giggles softly, but she tries to stifle it when Carlos shoots her a playful glare.

“I guess it’s a good thing we decided not to enforce the uniforms rule on you, then,” she says through a laugh, and Carlos snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Y-yeah, well, it’s good I grew out of that wh-en I did, or else all the perverts w-w-w-would’ve had a ffield day,” he chimes back, his lips twitching slyly.

Jane doesn’t say anything for a moment, her face carefully blank as she glances out over the field. Carlos feels his own expression mimicking hers; instinctively raising his guard and bracing for her reaction.

“Perverts like Nikki and Aziz, you mean,” she says, and her voice matches her face; low and tense.

Carlos flinches despite himself, his head snapping up to scan the grounds. But there’s not threat, no other people around who weren’t already absorbed in the party, and he looks up at Jane, his eyes narrowing defensively.

“What do you kn-n-now about it?”

He sounds too accusing, and a part of him cringes back, expecting pain for his behavior, but Jane still isn’t looking at him, her voice still strangely blank.

“I know that you guys said and did some pretty hurtful things,” she says slowly. “And I know they’re both really upset about it.”

“Th-they’re upset?!” Carlos chokes out, incredulously.

“Yeah, they are,” Jane says, finally looking up at him, startled surprise on her face and in her voice. “Did you think they wouldn’t be? After all, you guys were friends. At least, Aziz thought you were.”

Carlos grimaces sharply, shaking his head. He doesn’t know what to feel; anger, disappointment, sorrow, fear. He would be lying if he said that he hadn’t been enjoying Aziz’s company; that having and forming that connection outside of the group had been exciting and everything Carlos had been secretly hoping for from coming to Auradon. But he can’t help but feel betrayed, almost.

“I didn’t think…they ssaid he had…b-b-but I didn’t think….”

“That it was true?” Jane broaches carefully, and Carlos blinks hard, squirming uncomfortably.

“I don’t know how things worked on the Isle,” Jane continues after a moment. “But….”

“Y-you’re right,” Carlos interrupts jerkily, his voice hardening again. “You do-do-do-don’t know.”

“Ok, well then tell me,” Jane counters, boldly meeting his eyes. “Because what you guys did is called discrimination. It’s not good, and it’s hurtful and wrong.”

“Wh-what we did?” Carlos manages, taking a step backwards so he can shuffle an anxious pace. “What about wwhat they do? Jay was almost killed by one of them on the Isle wh-when he was eleven. N-nevermind that-that-that that’s not the worst that happened.”

He hears Jane take a breath to say something, and he’s very much aware of the fact that he was slipping up worse now that he was worked up, but he doesn’t care.

“And m-m-m-my knife didn’t always ssstop them,” he continues, blinking hard and trying to remember how breathing worked. “A-a-a-and…and…”

“Carlos,” Jane interjects, and he stops abruptly, realizing just how close he’d been to another breakdown. “Take a breath,” Jane continues, and though her voice is still firm, it had lost some of its edge from earlier.

He obeys, and only then notices that he’s shaking. He fidgets with his dog tail, adjusting each link bit by bit, focusing on the black and white fur and the feel of the cool metal in his hands instead of the tight feeling in his chest.

“Ok,” Jane says quietly. “Now can you look at me? Please?”

He doesn’t want to; not because he doesn’t trust her. Strangely enough, out of everything that had happened and everyone they’d encountered, Jane was the one person he felt he could trust. But he doesn’t trust himself; doesn’t trust what emotion he might let slip if he holds her gaze for too long.

“Please,” she says again, and Carlos bites the inside of his cheek before resolutely wiping his face, lifting his head slowly to meet her eyes.

She sighs quietly, and Carlos has to fight not to look away, to keep his feelings hidden and maintain the contact.

“I’ve never lied to you, right?” Jane asks. “I mean, I know we’ve only known each other a week and even then we’ve never really talk-talked, but…I haven’t said or done anything that’s not true or that got you hurt, right?”

“R-right,” Carlos drawls slowly, and it occurs to him again that he doesn’t even have to think about it; just feels and knows that it’s true- that it’s right.

Jane smiles just a little, further encouraging his thoughts. “Ok, so when I say…that there’s nothing wrong about Nikki or Aziz….”

Carlos shakes his head, biting his lip nervously. He knows what she’s trying to say, but there’s no way he was going to believe it. She frowns, and he hates the disappointed look she gives him. But there’s no way around this…he wasn’t going to budge for this.

“Things are different here,” she tries, and Carlos shrugs a shoulder, looking away.

“No-not that different,” he mutters quickly.

“You guys didn’t have a problem with Aziz before,” Jane argues. “If you had never known that he liked other guys, would you still be friends with him?”

“W-we-we weren’t even friends,” Carlos tries to counter, but she glares at him pointedly, and he looks away again. “Maybe.”

“But does knowing now change how you think of him?” Jane continues, and Carlos frowns, furrowing his eyebrows at the ground. “By that I mean, ignoring what you think you know from the Isle…thinking about Aziz…does what you know change anything about who he is to you?”

And Carlos tries to think, to match up the different things in his head that would prove that he was in the right about this. But he can’t reconcile the facts in his head because they didn’t match. And he doesn’t like the feeling inside now…that nagging sense of negativity.

“Think of it this way, too,” Jane says, seeming to read his thoughts. “If…um, say just as an example, ok? But if I liked girls, would that change the way you think of me? Would that make me bad?”

Carlos starts, looking up at her sharply. “Wh-what?”

“Just as an example,” Jane replies quickly, shaking her head. “But also, you could even say that…what you guys did to Nikki and Aziz is no different from anyone else saying that just because you’re the child of a villain, you’re inherently evil or something like that.”

Carlos wants to argue back, and even opens his mouth to do so, but the words stick in his throat so all he can really manage is a weak splutter. He tries to sign, but even then his hands blur through them too much, too fast, and Jane frowns at him, her brow furrowing in something that Carlos thinks might be pity, but feels more like concern.

“Hurt?” She repeats his sign, and he can hear that weird concern in her voice. “Who…do you mean…Aziz and Nikki?”

He bites his lip and squirms uncomfortably, trying to find the right words and failing. He can only shrug a shoulder and nod, and he winces at the look Jane gives him; all stern and sad and disappointed. He doesn’t know why he cares so much about what she thinks of him, but he does. He cares how she sees him, and he hates it, but…

“I know you think that…but it’s not true,” she says, and her voice is soft but no less effective. “I...I thought there was more to you than just ‘the son of Cruella de Vil,’ that maybe you were beginning to see it too.”

Carlos doesn’t know what to say to that, even if his voice wouldn’t have betrayed him. He tries to reach out to her anyway, to defend himself, or apologize or…something to make her understand. Jane pauses her retreat, glancing up at him and offering him one last sorrowful smile.

“We’re not the bad guys, here, Carlos. Just…try to remember that, ok?”  

And then she was gone, leaving Carlos with nothing more than a wave and a strange, empty feeling. The one person in all of Auradon who had actually seen him; looked past his stutter and his reputation and his…villainy- and actually seen Carlos was gone. The banner on the tent wall flapped sharply at him, the blue and yellow rippling and twisting the cheerful message. ‘Congratulations!’ the words mocked. In one week he had managed to successfully screw up every opportunity that had been given to him.

And he had absolutely no idea how he was going to get any of it back.

Chapter Text

Jay

If someone had told Jay a week ago that he would not only be going to Auradon against his will to uphold whatever twisted sense of 'family honor' Jafar possessed, but that he would actually kind of enjoy it there, he'd have scoffed in their face before stealing their clothes for having stupid ideas. And yet, here he is, not only in Auradon, but sprinting neck in neck with a couple of red faced princes, laughing in abandon as he launches himself up the side of an eight foot wall without breaking stride once.

He ignores the rope dangling from the top, planting his left foot firmly against the wall and pushing himself up, feeling the familiar burn of callouses on his palms as he grips the top of the ledge and hefts himself up. He feels like he can breathe, for the first time since coming to this stupid kingdom, and he sits astride the wall and glances down at the princes who are still huffing and puffing at the bottom, glaring up at him in what he knows is definitely envy.

"Ha ha, yeah!" he crows at them haughtily. "You wish you were this good!"

He laughs when they curse up at him, one of the boys grabbing the rope and beginning to sloppily climb his way up. He's all set to swing himself over the side and keep going, when a flash of movement catches his eyes. He frowns, peering down at the strange blur of…pink? - that's steadily making its way through the course.

The figure easily clears the 'stepping stones' as Jay had sneeringly referred them to; practically skipping back and forth between the muddy gaps and landing smoothly on the other side. He blinks, surprised, and watches in shock as the stranger throws themselves down and crawls deftly under the cargo nets, barely brushing the buckets of paint perched precariously atop the wooden pegs.

He can see them better now, and the flash of long dark hair as they toss their head catches him so of guard he almost falls of the wall. It's…

"Damn it Lonnie," one of the boys below him hisses. "As if it wasn't bad enough with him, now you have to show us up too?"

"Hey, I came to dominate, don't complain if you didn't bring your A game, Kory," the girl calls back, cocking a hip and titling her head back to stare up at Jay.

"What, and I guess you're gonna just hang up there like you own the course?" Lonnie hollers at him, and Jay feels a thrill of excitement at having a competitor, while also bristling just a bit at the challenge.

He straightens further on the wall, swinging his leg back up into a casual half-crouch. "I don't see anyone coming to take it from me," he fires back, his lips twisting cockily.

Lonnie shakes her head, her own mouth twitching as she lets out a slow chuckle. "Oh-ho! You are so on, Jr."

"Jr?" Jay snaps, frowning sharply at her. "The fuck is…?"

"Yeah, you know, 'Jafar Jr.,'" she snipes slyly. "That's totally what 'Jay' is for, isn't it."

Jay gapes a moment, completely caught off guard. He wants to fire an insult back, wants to leap down from the wall and show her just how much like his 'father' he was. But before he can do more than stare, Lonnie had sprinted up the wall, planting a foot firmly and leaping up a good couple feet before grabbing for the rope and effortlessly hauling herself up the last bit. She pauses at the top, the upper half of her body already over the other side, to toss him a cocky grin.

"You wish you were this good," she whispers, before swinging her legs up and over, barely missing the side of Jay's head.

She lands on the other side with a hearty 'oof!' before laughing smugly. "Try and keep up, Jr! If I'm feeling nice, I just might let you win!"

And that did it. Jay half scoffs, half snarls, swinging himself backwards over the wall, landing heavily and launching himself forward into a roll to counter the severe shock.

"Let me win," he spits, staring at Lonnie's retreating form as she sprints to the next obstacle. "Who does she think she is?"

He springs up to his feet and pretends not to hear the boys on the other side of the wall. 'Poor bastard,' he thinks he hears one mutter anyway. 'Doesn't yet realize that it's hopeless to go against her.'

'He'll find out soon enough.'

Jay growls and darts after Lonnie, shaking off the idiotic comments and pushing hard against the burn already searing his lungs. He'd show her. No one insulted Jay's abilities and got away with it. Not for long, at least.

No one got away with it…except for Lonnie, apparently. By the time Jay reached the final obstacle, he had realized he was basically running a second place time. And as furious and shocked as that made him, he couldn't help but laugh as he spotted Lonnie, lounging on her back at the top of a thick wooden plank that was decorated with flags. The thing had to have been at least twelve feet tall, maybe more, and yet she'd clearly scaled it like it was nothing.

"Shove over will ya?" Jay hollers to her, and she starts slightly before grinning down at him.

"Hey, you made it," she yells back. "I was afraid you'd gotten lost."

"Shut up," he snaps, but he's smiling too, unable to quite figure out the strangely light feeling bubbling in his chest. It comes out as a laugh, as Lonnie slides over and gestures dramatically to the empty place beside her. He shakes his head once, eyeing the plank and deciding the best route was just going at it head on, and throws himself at it with his usual reckless energy.

The plank is not, as it turned out, square. It's rounded, more oval, and Jay finds himself unable to get a good enough grip. He starts to slide, and Lonnie snorts above his head.

"Pro tip: don't do it like that."

He shoots her a glare and tries again anyway, planting his feet and trying to wrap his arms around it for leverage. He doesn't even make it up a foot, and he punches the 'plank' furiously before grimacing, biting back a curse in Arabic.

"Yup, the temper is definitely Jafar," Lonnie teases. "Hey, second tip: you won't be able to force your way through this like you did with the rest of the course."

"Some Auradon Princess secrets passed down from your Mommy?" Jay snipes back, though he finds himself almost regretting the taunt as Lonnie fixes him with a fierce look.

"My mother was a warrior, thank you very much," she says coolly. "And if you ever call me a princess again I will show you exactly what secrets she passed down to me."

Jay actually finds himself reasonably intimidated, and he nods his head slowly in even further admiration. "Noted," he mutters, and she beams at him, completely opposite of the threatening demeanor only moments ago.

"Good," she chirps cheerfully, before shimmying down the plank and dropping the last few feet to land gracefully in front of him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go express my bragging rights to the rest of Auradon. Good luck dealing with that stiff board."

And the coy look she gives him before sauntering off leaves Jay with no doubt that she knew exactly what she was saying.

"Fuck me," he whispers hoarsely.

She hears him, somehow, and pauses, glancing back over her shoulder. Jay quickly adopts a neutral expression, hoping to avoid another threat, but instead she smirks at him slyly, her eyes glinting darkly.

“Maybe if you ask a little nicer," she murmurs, before turning and sprinting back across the field.

Marry me, Jay thinks desperately, but doesn't say. Because that would imply too much sappy Auradon-fairytale-ness for his liking. But damn if this girl wasn't something else.

"It's Jayden, by the way," he shouts after her instead, cupping his hands around his mouth.

She turns, and jogs backwards a few feet, mimicking his gesture and bringing one around her mouth, the other pointing behind him to the 'plank.'

"I'll catch you at the top of that next time, Jayden," she hollers back, and then she's off again, her high, throaty laugh drifting to him over her shoulder.

Ben

When Audrey had told him that Chad wasn't going to make it to the party, Ben couldn't help but feel relieved. And then of course, instantly guilty, which was only worsened when Audrey told him what had happened when she'd found him on the Tourney field. Despite everything, Chad was still his friend, and he hated the idea of him struggling so much.

But still, the relief was there, because even with a vaguely remorseful Chad, he did not need anything that would have even a remote chance of ruining this event. His parents were already skeptical of his decisions, and the villain kids themselves; the last thing he needed was anyone being provoked into anything, well…evil.

Which is why when Aziz and Nikki come storming back from the direction of the VKs, both looking sick and also emotionally traumatized in turns, he can't help but groan quietly. Audrey glances up at him questioningly, but his worry is only increased when Jane follows not too far after them, the younger girl looking somewhere between disappointed and frustrated.

"Why do I have a bad feeling?" Ben sighs, and he can feel Audrey's grip tighten slightly around his hand.

"Should I see what's up with them?" She offers, but he bites his lip, sheepishly shaking his head.

"I could…really use you," he admits softly, squeezing her hand in return. "I know it's stupid to be this afraid. It's just…."

"Babe," Audrey interrupts. "I get it."

She leans into him reassuringly, and Ben sighs, with relief this time. She really did get it- get him, and he loves that about her; and how quick she is to provide whatever is needed. He turns as his parents stride up the lawn towards them, a guard hovering for a moment before he's playfully shooed away by the Queen.

"Ben," his mother greets, and he folds himself easily into her embrace, his smile a little more relaxed. "It's good to see you again."

"You too, Mom," he replies sincerely.

He straightens, and turns to greet his father, who clasps him firmly, but no less warmly on the shoulder.

"I'm relieved to see that things seem to be going well," his Dad says, and Ben chuckles a bit, ducking his head to hide his embarrassed flush.

It was as close to a 'good job' that he was going to get, but it was also the first genuine bit of enthusiasm and pride he'd heard from his dad about his decree so far. He wasn't about to let this moment go to waste.

"I'm really glad you guys could make it," Ben says, smiling back up at his parents. "The VKs really have made a lot of progress."

"Minus the earlier calamities, of course," his Dad adds, but there's a hint of something light in his eyes, and Ben sighs, relaxing even further as he realizes the lack of ill will.

"Yeah, well, I think they just got here so you should be able to properly meet them soon," he says, turning to start a brief tour of the gardens and what they'd set up.

Lonnie jogs up, breathless and laughing, her hair out of its earlier comb and falling messily down her back.

"Ok, I officially dominated that course!" She says between gasps. "But Jay is certainly trying his best. I almost feel bad I decided not to hold back."

"Lonnie," Audrey deadpans with a grimace. "Why."

Lonnie pulls a face at her, sticking out her tongue. "Not all of us have to be stereotypical princess archetypes, Audrey," she retorts. "I can still be a badass and rule a kingdom."

Audrey looks pained, while Ben shares an amused and exasperated look with his mother.

"Yes," Audrey says politely, and Ben can tell it's killing her to be so restrained. "But it wouldn't hurt to maybe be a little more…feminine while you do it."

Lonnie's expression turns dangerous, and Ben has to resist the urge to back away from his girlfriend and leave her to her brutal demise.

"I don't have to conform to your standards," Lonnie says hotly. "My femininity is defined by me."

Audrey closes her eyes. Breathes. Opens her eyes again. Ben (wisely) takes that half step back.

"But would it kill you to…."

"Ok," Doug steps forward, bravely in Ben's opinion, cutting off Audrey's impending rant. (And demise.) "Let's not start that argument up again. Lonnie, I think it's awesome that you're so non-conforming and badass…Audrey," Doug fixes her with a look. "Remember that she knows how to use a sword."

Ben silently congratulates Doug on his guts, while Lonnie smirks triumphantly.

"Thank you, Doug," she says, making another teasing face at Audrey, who feigns offence for all of two seconds before resigning herself.

"Yes, thank you," Ben hears his Dad says as he bends to give Audrey a quick, comforting kiss. "We wouldn't want a repeat of last Thanksgiving now, would we?"

Audrey lets out a quiet noise of protest, while Lonnie looks away, reddening slightly.

"It was one time!" Audrey cries, and Lonnie's lips twitch.

"I mean, to be fair, I overreacted a bit…" the other girl mutters.

"A bit?" Ben repeats lowly, lifting a brow.

"Don't you start," Lonnie warns, but she's laughing again and ruins the effect.

"Ooh, look, happy people! I guess that's our cue."

Ben blinks at the darkly sarcastic voice, though honestly he shouldn't have been as caught off guard as he was by Mal and Evie's arrival. Mal bore a sinister smirk and an all too dangerous gleam in her eyes, while Evie looked like she was trying not to laugh at the other girl's words.

"You guys did make it." It's Audrey who recovers first, smiling even if uneasily. "That's great! We didn't know if….”

"If we'd actually show up?" Evie finishes, and Ben purses his lips at the challenging look in her eyes.

"Well considering that it's the first party of any kind that I've been invited to, I wasn't about to pass that up," Mal drawls. "Though I have to admit, I'm almost disappointed by the lack of a trap."

Ben's dad chooses that moment to pointedly clear his throat- and while the sarcasm and air of impending gory demise hadn't been enjoyable; he'd prefer to see that over the sudden stillness that settles over both girls at the realization of the King's presence.

"Um, well," Ben stammers nervously, his eyes flickering back and forth between them. "You guys have already kind of met, but uh…Mal, Evie, these are my parents; King Beast and Queen Belle. Mom, Dad, you remember the girls."

"Well I should hope so," his dad rumbles slowly. "Or I'd have to seriously start worrying about my age."

Ben's chuckle is more like a sigh of relief, as Mal snorts slightly with a roll of her eyes, and Evie's lips twitch in a cautious smile.

"If my mother has taught me anything," Mal mutters sardonically. "It's that you hero types tend to err on the 'happily ever after' side of things so," she shrugs a shoulder. "I'd say you've got nothing to worry about."

Ben winces slightly at the mention of Maleficent, squeezing Audrey's hand a little tighter as he feels her flinch. His parents shift uncomfortably, and Mal looks more than slightly pleased with herself.

"Where, uh…where's the other half of your quartet?" His dad asks, forcing a lighter tone now. "Or do I not want to know?"

Mal frowns, and Ben thinks it might look thoughtful if it weren't for the way her eyes seemed to narrow slowly as she took in his Dad's expression.

"Jay's probably running himself sick on whatever it is at the…tourney?…field," she drawls slowly. "And Carlos…well he's probably with Jay."

"And if he's not?"

Mal's eyes narrow further, and Ben can't interpret her expression; can't decide if this is something he needs to be concerned about.

"We try not to worry too much," she finally says. "Unless there's smoke or a sudden explosion."

"I'm sorry?" Ben's mom exclaims, while his dad's expression clouds over dangerously.

"Explosions?!" He repeats sharply, and Evie bites her lip, her body tensing, while Mal stiffens, shifting her weight so subtly that Ben almost misses the movement. But he doesn't miss the effect the slight change of position had; Mal was now effectively in focus, her body angled just so, as if to hide the other girl from his dad's sight. From his reach.

Ben feels his stomach clench painfully, suddenly all too aware of the realities of the situation. He had taken the VKs from a life full of who knows what kind of horrible things, and somehow expected them to be able to adapt right away to Auradon society. They might have been doing well enough, but now that the actual consequences of such a situation were being revealed to him, Ben was starting to see just what that might do to someone.

Namely, this; the hyper-vigilance in Evie's posture despite her downcast eyes. The way Mal's face seems to twitch with something wild and feral; a fear and a danger glinting in her eyes, her hands shaking as light sparked at her fingertips. Ben licks his lips nervously, wanting to move forward or say something to break through the volatile atmosphere, but he was afraid that any wrong move on his part would be treated as a threat…and he'd seen how the VKs responded to threats.

His Dad was equally paralyzed, a stunned look crossing his face while his Mom glances to Ben, a clear desperate something in her eyes; and Ben fights to keep his expression neutral and calm. He was going to have to act soon- his Dad had lost that stunned look and was turning stern again, his lips parting like he might scold or yell or lecture…. It didn't matter what, only that Ben was going to have to stop it, before things got worse.

Evie had tensed even further, Mal's expression shifting sharply into danger now, the fear gone and replaced with the look of someone ready to fight. The sparks at the edge of her fingers snap sharply before igniting: a small green flame now dancing seemingly innocuous across her skin.

"Ben," Audrey hisses, her voice almost a whimper in his ear.

I know, he wants to whisper back. I know, just give me a second…

But he didn't have a second.

"Now, let me make something clear, here," his Dad began slowly, and Ben could see Mal's jaw clench tightly, the green flame wavering before starting up again just a bit brighter, Evie flinching behind her.

"Dad," Ben cuts in quickly, stepping towards him and making sure to keep his hands open and angled towards the ground, hoping that the obvious display of how weak and weaponless he was would help keep the girls calm.

"I think it was just a joke," he continues. "Nothing's going to explode."

"Joke or not, this is exactly what I meant!" his Dad exclaims, gesturing sharply towards the two girls. "The disruptive attitude; the…the carelessness with which they make these threats! They're dangerous, Ben!"

"Adam!" his Mom gasps, reaching for his arm as though to tug him back.

Ben just gapes, unable to comprehend the sudden shift in his Dad's support. A moment ago he'd said…he was hopeful and optimistic. Except he hadn't been, now that's he's staring at the furious scowl twisting his Dad's face. He hadn't been positive about this in any way, not since Ben's initial pitch about bringing children from the Isle. He shouldn't have been surprised…shouldn't have felt hurt by the rejection. But he did.

He could feel his lips forming words, but it was Mal who stalked forward, her own expression fierce and just as furious, her hands clenching into fists and causing the flame to dance up and around to skitter across the backs of her hands.

"No more dangerous than those who would put the lives of children in danger just because of some fucked up sense of right and wrong."

Mal's voice shakes, but it's anger and not fear that controls her now, her eyes flashing as she boldly lifts her chin to glare into his Dad's eyes.

"You can't hide from it now, can you, King Beast?" Her words are venom, her voice just as snapping and intense as the flame in her hands. "Not now that there's actual villains in Auradon; not now when you're faced with the very nightmares you fought to control."

Ben fears his Dad might snap and completely lose control of himself: his face was flushed with anger, a low, displeased and furious sound building in his chest. He'd only ever seen his Dad this angry once before…when he'd been arguing for the removal of the Villains and the ban on all magic in Auradon afterwards.

He exchanges an anxious look with his mother, but she's just as paralyzed- too shocked to do more than stare in bewilderment and fear at his father.

"Are you implying some sort of threat?" His Dad's voice is low, almost a growl, and while Evie pales and rapidly takes a step back, Mal straightens further, something sharp and entirely thrilling in her eyes that has Ben sucking in a breath.

"I never threaten," Mal says calmly, her lips twitching while the flame twists insidiously around her fingers. "Only promise. You might have the rest of Auradon fooled into thinking you're a benevolent ruler, but we on the Isle know that you're still just a beast."

There's a harsh beat of silence, and then:

"Daaamn," someone whispers hoarsely behind Ben, and he finds himself thinking the same.

Even as his father shifts his weight forward; even as Evie flinches back and Mal's lip curls, her mouth forming some unknown word; even as Audrey screams and his mother cries out in shock; Ben feels an inexplicable tug- a sharp thrill of butterflies as he stares at the other girl. The girl somehow full of fear and yet entirely unabashed, bold beyond daring and scathing as she confronts his father head on. The girl who had, in that moment, pulled him into something wild and dangerous and distinctly not-good.

The girl with the purple hair.

Except, it's not quite purple now, Ben realizes with a start. The flames had licked up her arm, caressing her skin without burning; hot and bright and a brilliant green that lights up her eyes and seems to almost whisper in her ear as it settles and curls into the tips of her hair.

Distantly, Ben feels Audrey tugging at his arm, her voice a high desperate sob in the back of his mind. He knows he should be afraid; terrified in fact. There's something deadly in Mal's smile; pointed and lethal in her gaze as her lips form another word that he can't recognize. That gaze that's fixed on...his…his Dad!

It hits him hard, like a physical blow, and Ben heaves a ragged and desperate gasp as he realizes the true danger they're in right now. He lets out a cry that tapers off too soon; a warning, or a plea, he doesn't know. Only that it makes Mal pause, ever so slightly, her green eyes flickering to him and penetrating deep. Ben feels it; the soft whisper of heat and pain and…magic…in his mind. It pulls at him, tugs him closer, before ripping away sharply, Mal's eyes hardening before fading into a much more normal pale green.

The magic still burns, almost as an afterthought in his mind, before also fading, and Ben blinks, watching in horror…or was it awe? -as the fire that had been threatening to strike at his father rapidly retreats and turns on its source. Mal bites her lip, and he can see the way her eyes pinch tightly closed, her brow furrowing deeply in concentration as the fire is slowly drawn back, not so much extinguishing as withdrawing back inside her.

It's only once the flames have completely disappeared that Ben dares to allow himself to breathe, and only when he breathes does he realize just how hard he's shaking, and just how close he'd come to being short one parent. He starts to stagger forward, but a tight grip around his wrist stops him, and he glances back to see Audrey, face pale and eyes wide with terror, tears streaming in clear rivulets across her cheeks.

"Hey," he whispers, instinct taking over as he draws her closer to him, embracing without completely engulfing her. "Hey, it's ok. It's over…."

"Over!?" she repeats, her voice high and shaky, completely opposite of the sudden stern twist of her expression.

Ben opens his mouth to try and comfort her further, but then he catches movement, and lifts his eyes to see Doug vehemently shaking his head, the other boy gesturing with a nod to something over Ben's shoulder. He can see Lonnie, just beside Doug, tense and wary but not completely traumatized like Audrey. The other girl purses her lips and mimics Doug's gestures; her dark eyes flickering pointedly behind Ben.

It's not until he hears a sharp gasp from his mother, and a short, panicked cry of "Mal!" from Evie that he spins on his heel to see that the green flames had returned, almost entirely covering Mal from head to toe. The girl seemed even shorter with the way the fire radiates and roars, flickering and twisting around her form. Mal stares at her hands in what Ben thinks might be surprise, or else a smug pleasure, before she suddenly stiffens, her back arching as her chin snaps up sharply.

Ben feels that violent tug again; a desperate sort of 'do something!' echoing inside him. Evie is screaming Mal's name again, while his Dad had taken to shielding his Mom, his eyes screwed up tight against the heat and a furious scowl twisting his expression. Audrey is practically breathless with the force of her sobs, and Ben knows he should be doing what his father is and protecting her, but he's too entranced by the sight before him.

Mal's lips part, a sort of pained wonder sliding across her face.

"Oh," Ben hears her whisper, her voice ragged and shaking ever so slightly. "So she was right about that after all. The bitch."

And then her eyes roll up, a violent crack sounding as the flames suddenly die, and Ben has all of two seconds to jerk free of Audrey's death grip and sprint forward before Mal collapses, lifeless, into his arms.

Mal

There's a very small number of places on the Isle where small children would be 'safe.' Of course, it was all relative, but 'safe' for Mal meant away from her mother, away from the creepy looking people who looked at her funny when she tried to threaten them, and secure enough that no one else could get to it and that Mal could defend it easily.

For now, 'safe' was a secluded section of alleys courtyards not too far from where the town became beach. It was never too hot there, thanks to the heavy breeze that blew up from the ocean, and if it ever came down to it, it wasn't that hard to go down and sit carefully in the shallow bit of water to keep cool.

Mal's favorite part of her safe place, was the small pit of sand wedged just at the edge of the water, guarded by a large outcropping of rocks and boulders that jutted out of the sand and ran clear down into the waves. Even Jay liked the sand pit, not that Mal let him down there often. He didn't seem to like it when she told him what to do, but he would just have to…suck it up, as Mal had heard her mother say.

Except, Jay hadn't shown up at the beach that day, or the day before, and if there was one thing Mal hated, it was someone who went back on a deal. She tended to try and avoid Jafar as much as possible, which was a true feat since he was at her house practically every day, visiting with her mother. Mal wasn't stupid, even though her mother sometimes wondered if she was; despite only being eight, she knew how the Isle worked- how the people on the Isle worked. There was no doubt in her mind that there was 'something' going on between her mother and the former advisor, but she wasn't about to dwell on it now.

Now, she had to find her partner. She might despise Jay's existence at times, but he was still her partner, and therefore, her responsibility. She stood from the shallow pit of sand and climbed back up and over the rocky outcropping. She was just about to leap down and start the trek back towards the Village when she heard a sudden, angry shout.

"Hey!"

Mal started, her head snapping up to scan the beach for the source. It was not from a furious and dangerous villain as she had feared, but instead…a little kid? Mal frowned at the small girl who glared up at her, eyes squinted against the light and further emphasizing the frustration on her face.

"Hey," Mal said back, straightening slowly and eyeing the girl warily. She wasn't much to look at; tiny and with the tell-tale thinness of someone who didn't get enough to eat, though that was practically everyone on the Isle so no big deal there. She had dark skin that reminded Mal unequivocally of mud, and long, ropy hair that looked like the ocean had thrown up on it.

"What do you think you're doing?" the strange girl snapped, her voice childishly high and yet, sort of raspy all the same, her hands coming up to shield her eyes and lessening her severe squint. "This is my beach!"

Mal smiled gleefully at the challenge, her heat beating with anticipation. Forget Jay. It was time to put this little worm in her place.

"Your beach, huh?"

Mal leapt down from the rock, landing with an unceremonious 'thump!' in front of the girl. She was even smaller up close, and from here Mal could smell the stink of the sea on her. The girl gaped before staggering back in surprise at Mal's sudden proximity.

"I don't see your name on it," Mal continued smugly, curling her lip as she glared down at the weird girl.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with, do you?" The girl said, her own face twisting in disdain, and Mal almost laughed out loud.

"Do you?" she fired back, and the girl blinked at her before seeming to straighten, sticking out her chest with pointed arrogance.

"I am the daughter of Ursula," she boasted haughtily. "Descended from the goddess Calypso herself. The song of the ocean runs through my blood, and this is my beach by birthright. You're just a trespasser."

"Wow," Mal drawled, exaggerating her syllables in faux appreciation. "A lot of big words for such a tiny shrimp."

The girl spluttered, and Mal's smirk widened.

"I-Exscuse me?!"

"Yeah, I wasn't sure at first, but then your whole 'blood of water' thing cleared it up for me," Mal said, eyeing the girl critically. "No wonder it looks like the ocean threw up on you. It totally did."

The girl didn't seem to have anything to say to that, spluttering so hard Mal wondered if she was drowning. That sparked a nasty, if somewhat violent idea in her adolescent mind, but of course, she'd be disappointing her herself, (and her mother's name really) if she didn't follow through with it.

"Aw, no," Mal sighed, feigning worry. "Have you been out of the water for too long? Here, let me help."

Before the girl even knew what had happened, Mal had grabbed hold of her, pinning her arms to her sides and using her height and strength to her advantage, dragging the still spluttering girl up the rock base and all the way down to the water's edge. The ocean was deeper here than in the shallows, and the rocks were slick with algae and seaweed; the very same seaweed that was woven into the girl's hair.

Mal didn't even hesitate, simply hefted the girl up to the ledge and shoved her screaming into the water just as a wave broke over the rocks. The resulting swell tugged the girl under, and she didn't resurface for at least a good fifteen or twenty seconds. When she did, she was choking, coughing and sucking in desperate gasps of air, cursing at Mal in between ragged breaths.

She gave in to her laughter then, doubling over and cackling wickedly, the sound dissolving into giggles as the girl was sucked under another wave. She didn't take quite so long to resurface that time, but Mal was too caught up in the moment to care.

"You…you'll pay…!" the girl shrieked desperately, and Mal straightened from her hunched over form to carelessly flip her off.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she laughed. "You might just want to stay in the water, little shrimp. Maybe you'll learn that it's best not to try and mess with dragons.

The girl let out a furious scream, which was swallowed instantly by the next wave, the white foam swallowing her form completely and sending a resounding crash against the rocks. Mal chuckled to herself as she climbed back down and started towards the Village in a significantly happier mood.

"Little shrimp," she scoffed, her eyes flickering with green.

She didn't look back, though if she had, she might have noticed the pale boy in red scrambling up the rocks in her stead. There was a flash of silver as he reached the top, and then the boy was gone, over the side and into the ocean beyond.

Evie

It's like being underwater, sinking slowly and watching everything happen above you in broken, distorted ripples. The anger twisting the King's face; the certainty that there would be some kind of punishment; the anticipation of pain. And then suddenly, warmth. Heat as Mal rushes forward, pressing herself tightly against Evie, her voice a low, furious hiss as she whispers:

"Tân."

The word sends a stronger ripple through the water, and Evie barely stifles a gasp as Mal is suddenly engulfed in flames, the green magic washing across her face and curling around her arms, threading through her fingers and her hair and consuming the black of her eyes until only the fire remains.

And Evie can feel it, in that moment. The tug of the magic so strong it almost threatens to overtake her completely, but she reaches for it anyway, fumbling blindly against Mal's heat in a desperate grab for her own power. It stirs, briefly, flickering within her reach and yet, just tauntingly far enough that she can't…quite…get to it.

She almost screams with the frustration, almost cries with the pain of being so cut off, of failing at something yet again. Of not being good enough. But then Mal stirs, and Evie is jerked sharply back into the moment as the green flames seem to contort, writhing and twisting to an edge, and Evie clings closer to the other girl as she focuses that edge on the vague forms flickering just beyond.

"Ddinistrio," Mal rasps, her voice dark and thick with something fierce and almost like pleasure.

It occurs to Evie then, that the fire isn't burning them at all, despite the way it threatens to consume them both entirely. The heat is there, definitely, and she had a brief moment of panic where she glances down to ensure her clothes aren't scorched. Thankfully, they're still intact, and she's able to pull herself further out of her thoughts and glare through the fire.

She can only see the outlines, but she's pretty sure that she can make out Ben somewhere near the front, and the King, directly before them, the Queen tucked just behind his towering form. Evie tenses as the fire snaps sharply, coiling back as though ready to strike, and she darts an anxious glance towards Mal. The other girl is trembling slightly, but there's no mistaking the wicked smile curling at her lips.

Evie lets herself relax, just a bit, a small smirk of her own tugging at her mouth. It's almost like being back on the Isle, two regals fighting side by side, confident and entirely unopposed while everyone cowered and groveled at their feet. She half expects to hear screams of terror at Mal's fiery display, certain that the crowd would be running and cursing at the top of their lungs about demons and witches.

But this is Auradon, and so all they really get are horrified looks, although someone is definitely crying; the high, hysterical kind that sucks all the air from your body. The sound tugs at something deep and painfully familiar in Evie, a memory that she doesn't want to touch, but is snapped into when another desperate cry rings out.

And suddenly she isn't on a grassy field next to her best friend, confident in the terror and chaos they are causing...

There's a weird smell, like smoke but not really. She doesn't know what it is, but it's not anything pleasant. It makes her stomach lurch, a tight, spasming pain echoing deep in her chest as her lungs expand and contract too quickly.

She's crying. Why is she crying?

There's a wall in front of her. The brick smells kind of…powdery and dry; like makeup or…oh. It's chalk. That's what the not-smoke is. Chalk. She remembers sketching out patterns with it when she was little, designing clothes and dresses that she would wear some day when she was grown up and a princess with a prince and a castle and a….

Something moves behind her. She's crying harder now, salt mixing with chalk and there's definitely smoke. Something is burning, but there's a wall in front of her and something behind her and she doesn't want to…can't think. Can't know. Can't breathe.

Can't breathe she can't breathe she can't breathe and there's something burning, something's burning and she has to…get away…has to…

"E? Evie?"

Evie gasps sharply, earth brown eyes snapping up to meet jade green. Mal is still focused on the still building fire, but there's a furrow in her brow, a shift in her body that Evie feels as Mal presses herself just a little closer. She takes another breath and it comes out too much like a sob for her liking, so she draws a deep breath and holds it, nodding her head quickly and gritting her teeth hard against the wave that threatens to come up and pull her under again.

She understands what Carlos means, now, when he'd told her that the panic feels like drowning. It's not just a lack of air, it's too much air. Too much air and too many thoughts and feelings. Too many images...too many and now is not the time!

The heat from Mal's fire burns away any tears that have fallen, drying them stiffly to her face. Evie takes that as her cue and releases her pent up breath, turning it into a quick, determined sort of sigh, letting her lips slide upwards into a mischievous smirk of her own.

"Just enjoying the view," she murmurs reassuringly, and Mal lets out a low, but enthusiastic chuckle.

"This," the other girl replies, her eyes alight with fire and gold as it fixes on something beyond the field of vision. "This is what we came here for."

Evie opens her mouth to reply when a sudden, broken gasp sounds past the fire. She flinches instinctively, that tugging feeling back in her gut as Mal's eyes snap over to the source of the sound. She can't see much through the swirl of magic, but she recognizes that hard, calculating look in the other girl's gaze, knows that small sideways twitch of her jaw. Mal's holding back, though only barely. There's something on the other side of the flames that's pulling her out of the moment and making her hesitate, draining the confidence from her veins. Evie had seen the same thing happen during Mal's numerous 'staring contests' with Maleficent, the dragon queen's magic overtaking Mal's own and painfully forcing compliance.

And before Evie can really process this, before she could tell the other girl not to let go; to not give in so soon, the fire is already dying. Mal's lips press tightly together as the flames slowly dissipate, some of it dispelling into the air and the rest seeming to almost filter back through Mal's body. Evie feels a soft pang of worry, and an even softer twinge of jealousy that she quickly tries to stifle. But there's no denying it; she's jealous of Mal's ability, of the ease in which the other girl is able to wield her magic where Evie can barely even feel her own, let alone harness it.

She knows better- after all, there was so much that she could do that she knew for a fact Mal could not. Picking a decent outfit was one of those things, she thinks smugly, side-eyeing Mal's particular choice of clothing. Thick jeans that are cut off at roughly at Mal's ankles, the way the denim crumples and sags around Mal's hips and legs telling Evie right away that they're not even girls' jeans. A black tshirt that hugs her form and is ripped along the side, and then of course, the ever present purple and green studded jacket. The only thing Evie could say with certainty was perfect, and then, only because she herself had made it.

Mal might be able to craft magic, but Evie could definitely make a decent outfit. And of course, she could read people, a skill that had saved their lives countless times on the Isle. She could pick up their intentions from their posture; their bodies saying all the things that their mouths weren't. She hadn't had to utilize much in Auradon so far, but if there were any time that could call for it, it's now; especially with the loss of the magic that had been their shield.

Evie can see through the fire better now that it is fading, and the first thing she picks up on is the King, at the front of the cowering group of people. She can't see his face, but she can read the tension in his body, in the way he shifts his weight to try and protect everyone at once. And then, there's Ben. She knows it's him instinctively, and when the flames finally clear enough she knows for certain when she sees his face, eyes wide but not quite panicked like his girlfriend's. Audrey is pulling at him, the girl's face wild and desperate with sheer terror, a high, wailing sound slipping past her lips as she sobs.

The cry threatens to send Evie back to the images; back to the memories of chalk and smoke and brick walls, but the shift in Ben's posture is confusing enough to keep her in the moment. He's not cowering in fear, or even stiff and unyielding like his father. Instead he is tense and wary, but she doesn't see fear in his eyes. It's almost like…longing, as his body leans away from Audrey and the crowd behind him, shifting towards Evie and…Mal.

Evie almost wants to laugh at the incredulity of it all, but instead settled for a simple smirk, turning to Mal with a toss of her head.

"Hey M," she murmurs slyly. "I think you've got an admirer."

Mal lets out a low, breathless sound that might be a laugh, her cheeks twitching in amusement. She opens her mouth to say something, but whatever it is is lost in a sudden, renewed flare of fire, the heat even stronger and fiercer than before as it completely overtakes Mal's petite form. It takes even Mal off guard, if the wide, open look on her face is any indication, the other girl staring at her hands and the flames with her lips slightly parted in something like wonder, but not quite.

"Mal?" Evie probes cautiously, shifting away from the surging heat and the almost sickeningly strong pull of magic.

Mal purses her lips, her brow furrowing before suddenly she straightens sharply, her back arching her spine like a bow and snapping her chin up towards the sky.

"Mal!" Evie screams, horrified, as the tug of magic spikes painfully.

"Oh," Mal whispers, her voice soft and tight with barely concealed pain. "So she was right about that after all."

Then her expression shifts slightly, the tiniest curl of her lips into a sneer. "The bitch," she spits.

Evie doesn't have time to interpret, or ask who or what Mal was talking about. The tug of magic in her gut dies suddenly, sucking almost like a vacuum and leaving nothing but a hollow emptiness inside. At the same moment, the flames wash down over Mal and disappear, the other girl collapsing with a harshly exhaled sigh.

Evie jerks, cries out. Reaches…too late!

And then suddenly there's a shift in pressure right by Evie's side, strong arms snapping out and slowing Mal's fall, steady hands carefully maneuvering her further into the embrace. Evie flinches back, startled by the abrupt presence, and when she looks up again it's to stare in surprise at Ben; who had somehow darted across the field and managed to catch her just in time. And who was now staring at the lifeless girl in his arms as if he'd never quite seen her before.

Chad

The walk back to his room from the Tourney field was simultaneously the shortest, and the longest. He couldn't stop replaying everything in his head; his talk with his parents mostly. But also…Audrey.

The smallest of thrills went through his stomach as he thought of the way she'd hugged him. It had been brief- platonic, of course. But in the moment, and after he'd been so…open with her…he couldn't help but relax into it more than he probably should have. The flush that had colored his face as he'd pulled away and spouted some excuse was definitely not just the heat and exhaustion from his workout.

Sure, he liked Audrey. As a close friend- almost family. And never anything more than that, no matter what stupid crushes or feelings were felt when they were kids. And especially not once Ben came along. He'd been resigned to just hover and be awkward and 'Charming' again, except Ben had ruined that for him, too: pulling him into an easy friendship that just as quickly became that sibling-like bond that Chad had longed for since he was ten and his father had explained to him that he would be the only heir and thus, the only child.

Ben made it hard to hate; harder to try and be numb all the time. The kid had been so happy and overly optimistic; and Audrey had been there too, just as sunny if not quite so forceful. Calm and level headed, she smoothed out all those prickly parts of Chad, able to see him no matter what shields he tried to throw up. It had been because of the two of them that Chad slowly lost his 'instability' and actually became 'charming,' and he'd thought he might actually have a chance to make something more of his relationship with Audrey.

Except Ben got there first. And the rest was, well…the rest.

Chad grit his jaw and grumbled a curse between his teeth, causing a few students nearby to glance out of the corner of their eyes before skittering quickly out of his way. He knew what they were probably thinking; what they saw: A sweating, riled up Chad, glaring and cursing to himself (most likely about the VKs.) And of course there'd be those who took it just that one step further; that his temper was so typical of a Charming; that talking to yourself was the first sign of madness and that, well, maybe he takes after his mother after all, I mean, they're both so…unstable.

He felt itchy and raw under the scrutiny, so his relief was almost physical when he finally reached his dorm room, the door practically shaking in the frame he slammed it so hard. He stays there a moment, panting with his palms against the wood and trying to bite down the sobs that they were threatening to turn into.

Just when he thinks it's safe to back away and decompress, a voice rings out behind him; low and decidedly unimpressed.

"Hey, do me a favor and slam that again. I don't think they quite heard you all the way on the other side of the dorm."

Chad turns, surprised to see his roommate sprawled across his bed, a cigarette clenched tightly between his lips and half muffling his words.

"Aziz?" Chad asks, furrowing his brow and straightening from his wary hunch by the door. "What are…? I thought you'd be at…the thing."

He can't call it a party again. He won't give in like that and say that there's anything worth celebrating here because there wasn't.

Aziz gives a shrug- as much as he can with one arm tucked behind his head- his eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling.

"I was."

Chad watches as the other boy takes a slow drag from the cigarette; the smoke escaping his lips in a tight, compressed hiss, and he has to resist the urge the groan out loud. All he'd really wanted to do was come back to his dorm, take a scalding hot shower and then maybe play video games for a few mind numbing hours before dinner and just forget that other people even existed.

Instead, he now has to deal with extremely pissed, potentially depressed roommate, who, now that Chad was really thinking about it, was in fact here, and not being pissed and moody with the one person who would probably actually care.

"Shit…something happened, didn't it?"

Chad's voice comes out more groan-y than he'd like, but it's a sympathetic groan, an empathetic screwing up of his face as he takes a half step forward. Aziz doesn't respond this time, just clenches his jaw tighter around the cigarette, a noncommittal hum echoing in his throat.

'I don't know,' that hum said. 'Might have, but whatever.'

Chad knows that hum very well. He'd practically perfected the art of noncommittal humming. He could fill a book with all the variating inflections and their meanings, and just how to respond to each one in an equal variety of ways. And so he knows that the last thing Aziz wants to hear is 'do you want to talk about it?'

Instead he abandons his plans for a shower and kicks off his shoes, tugging his jersey over his head in favor of the simple blue tee underneath. He contemplates for a moment, wondering just how delicate he needed to be here. Deciding that now was not the time to initiate any sort of comforting contact, he flops down unceremoniously in the grayish blue beanbag by the TV and tugs himself forward until he can reach his book bag.

Contrary to popular belief, Chad did in fact, do homework. Being a Prince, and sole heir meant that he'd had an extensive regiment of tutors from the moment he'd first said 'Dada.' Of course, the tutors stopped coming after several of his mother's… 'fits,' and it had been up to Chad to figure out learning from what they'd left behind and an occasional helpful prod from his father. Aurdaon Prep's workload was not by any means horrendous, but it was more than difficult enough that Chad was not so much 'being challenged' but tortured.

Eventually he gave up on trying to interpret the weekly chemical 'puzzle' Mr. Deley had assigned, and chucked his bag across the room.

"Hey," he calls back over his shoulder to his roommate, who had remained entirely impassive during Chad's attempt at studying. "You got another one of those?"

He didn't smoke as often as Aziz did, but every now and then it was nice to just float for a bit and not think. He hears a slight shuffle of movement, and then a high, short sigh of frustration coupled with another sharp shuffle before silence fell. Chad shifted his weight enough to turn his head, and saw Aziz with his free hand now pointing towards the bookshelf, a bitter twist of his lips indicating his displeasure.

Chad groans exaggeratedly, rolling his eyes and huffing his own sigh. "Really?" he mutters as he makes a big show of hefting himself to his feet. "You're actually going to make me get up and get something for myself?"

Aziz's hand effortlessly shifts to flip him off, and Chad stifles a snort of amusement as he shuffles lazily towards the shelf in question. He finds the box tucked inside the binding of a book, a dedication of some kind scrawled in what he assumes is Arabic. The cigarette box is crumpled and suspiciously light, and Chad frowns, letting out his own frustrated huff as a lift of the lid reveals the affirmation.

"The fuck man...it's empty," Chad snaps, letting the snark come through in hopes of keeping with familiarity. "What happened to all the rest?"

There's a sharp intake of breath behind him, before suddenly dissolving into the quiet, unmistakable sucking sound of muffled sobs.

Chad turns sharply on his heel, entirely thrown, to find Aziz with both hands pressed tightly over his face, his teeth practically biting his cigarette in half as his whole body shakes, a quiet squeal of protest coming from the bedframe underneath him.

And…Chad was officially out of his depth. He didn't 'do' crying. Crying was for when you lost control of your emotions so much that nothing else was left except tears. Crying meant pain; meant whispered screams and whimpers in the dark; meant long nights and tired looks, empty words and hollow eyes.

"It's fucking bullshit," Aziz rasps, tugging Chad away from the dark vein his thoughts had turned to. "Just bullshit."

Chad swallows, biting back the reflex of shared pain that threatens in sharp stings at the back of his eyes, and instead slips into a more comfortable reflex. The sneer pulls across his face seamlessly, his eyes narrowing and effectively cutting across any instinctive feelings.

"Yeah, well, I just came back to the room to get a shower, not deal with whatever 'bullshit' is."

The sneer twists his words, making them sharper than he wants, but it's familiar and safe and all he needs right now.

"Asshole," Aziz bites out, but the crying had slowed at least.

"Look," Chad hedges, shuffling his weight uncomfortably. "Do…do you want me to get Nikki? Cuz I think he'd be far better equipped for-."

And he's halfway across the room to the door when it occurs to him again that if Aziz had wanted Nikki, he'd have been with him, and that he's not, and that the other boy is also, not here; and that Aziz had seemed to tense slightly at the mention of his boyfriend….

Why me? Chad thinks, lifting his head in a silent groan. Why'd I have to get stuck with the overly emotional roommate?

"This isn't…his fault, is it?" Chad broaches slowly, grimacing at the idea. "Because I just started to like him, and I'd hate to have to ostracize him from the group."

"What do you mean 'just started to like him?'" Aziz snaps, sitting up suddenly and sliding his hands across his face, erasing the trace of tears before they travel further up and into his hair. "There's nothing wrong with my boyfriend."

"So he is still your boyfriend. That's a relief," Chad replies snidely, pointedly dodging the question. "I would've had to kick you out to room with Doug for a week; let him be the one to bring you ice cream or whatever."

"Shut up," Aziz snorts, but his lips are twitching slightly, and Chad relaxes just a bit in relief before groaning at the other boy's next words. "And you still didn't answer me."

"It's his damned guitar," Chad whines, genuinely, this time. "I mean, I'm not against music, but he's always singing and playing it and dancing and being all…and I just…want him to…stop."

"Yes Chad," Aziz deadpans. "Tell the gay son of Naveen to stop singing and dancing. Because that won't end horribly at all."

"Yeah, yeah," Chad grumbles dismissively, waving a hand and turning back towards the bathroom door. "If you're done being all hormonal or whatever…"

"You were right," Aziz says suddenly, and Chad pauses at the abrupt bitter edge to his voice.

He almost wants to slip into concerned, but he's still stinging from his conversation with Audrey, and he'd only just dodged a bullet the first time with Aziz, and so instead he cocks his head, his lips pursing haughtily as he rolls his eyes with a sigh.

"I mean, I usually am, so that's no surprise."

"About the VKs," Aziz clarifies pointedly, and Chad tenses, his stomach clenching and his heart momentarily freezing in his chest.

"The VKs?" He's aware that his voice has lowered, registers the tightness of his throat that turn his words into a growl; but Chad can't find it in himself to care. "What…what did they do now?"

Aziz's jaw clenches and unclenches, a grimace twisting his lips as he gives a short jerk of his head. "Mm," he hums in negative. "I don't need to relive that crap."

And there's a certain curl to his grimace that almost makes it a snarl, but the way the other boy's eyes seem to flicker uncertainly tells Chad all he needs to. There's a very small list of things that anyone could find 'wrong' with Aziz, but no amount of criticisms would have affected him so drastically. Unless they targeted that particular one.

"Oh," Chad murmurs, half whisper, half growl. "Oh they did not."

Aziz says nothing, but the tight press of his lips is more than answer enough for Chad.

"Right," he says, his own voice clipped and tight. "So, totally unrelated note: I'm going out for a bit. If I'm not back in an hour, check the infirmary."

"Woah, hey," Aziz scrambles to his feet hastily, a weak smile flitting across his face. "There's no need to get all beat up on my behalf."

"Oh, I didn't mean check for me," Chad replies, bending to tug his shoes back on and checking that the bandages around his hands were still secure.

"Dude," Aziz says, and there's a small, nervous chuckle that bubbles up into his words. "You don't…it's not…I mean…."

"You were literally crying a second ago," Chad retorts shortly, straightening and fixing the other boy with a look. "And I know how that feels. So, yes, it is a big deal, and I am going to make them sorry."

"You mean, make them apologize," Aziz hedges, biting his lip and looking up at Chad cautiously.

"Is there a difference?"

"Oh Charming," Aziz sighs softly in what Chad strongly suspects is sarcasm. "My hero."

"Aziz."

"Seriously. Whoever said you don't care about anything…oh wait, that was me."

"Shut up," Chad snaps, grabbing his Auradon blazer before yanking the door open and eyeing the halls with renewed vigor.

"Hey wait," he hears Aziz call after him as he stalks towards the stairs. "You're not really gonna...? Chad? Chad!"

But he's already halfway down the stairs, more determined than he'd been a couple hours before. He might not have any personal, sentimental attachments to his roommate, but Aziz was still more or less his friend, and he wasn't about to let something like this slide. And if the VKs thought they were going to get away with this, well. They had another thing coming to them.

Chapter Text

Audrey

It’s all Audrey can do to keep herself together in the aftermath of the party. The tents had been cleared away almost immediately, though the obstacle course had stayed, the giant Mulan-inspired flag pole still stuck firmly in the ground. The food had been relocated indoors to be used for the dinner buffet, and the trash and other partially eaten waste collected to be shipped to the Isle on the next cycle.

The Isle….

Audrey took a sharp breath, tears stinging painfully at her eyes while bile brought acid up in her throat. The images still burned behind her eyes, the unnatural green flames, the heat so strong Audrey was certain they would all be scorched from the backlash. And the magic! It had been so strong that even the non-magical of their group could feel its pull, threatening to suck them in and overtake them entirely.

Another breath, too shallow, as Audrey remembered the look in Mal’s eyes, the dark raspy tone of the other girl’s voice and the way the flames responded, coiling like a snake and spitting poison. A whimper rose up to take the place of the sick churning of her stomach, tears spilling ungracefully down her cheeks.
She had always heard the stories, every child in Auradon had, but she was the only one who knew just how devastating the effects of it had been on her family. Her parents’ divorce, the way they hardly ever acknowledged each other except for council meetings where they were forced to be civil to each other. How Audrey had lived at her Grandmother’s for those tense years of the separation when she was twelve, the older Queen practically raising her from that point on.

Audrey knew all too well that Maleficent’s curse hadn’t just destroyed one life…how far reaching it truly was. And even with Ben’s decree, she couldn’t shake that lingering fear that overshadowed everything she did. To be confronted so suddenly with Mal’s presence was like willingly allowing a frog into her bed, only it wasn’t a prince or anything benevolent in disguise. It was just a frog, slimy and wart-ridden, that crawled and slithered into all the cherished and sacred places that refused to be touched; couldn’t be touched lest they be desecrated by its presence.
To face the flames and remain unaffected would have been a feat for anyone. But for Audrey it had been practically impossible. She can still feel the hysterical fear, the tightness in her chest threatening to drown out everything else. She had seen the way Mal had smiled…smiled! As the green flames had lashed around her body, the magic thick and deadly as it arched to attack them. To kill them.
Audrey whimpers again, the sound echoing strangely in her head and seeming to reverberate in the air. She imagined the invisible ripples of sound stretching out from her body only to bounce back and crush her, wave after wave of relentless pulsing energy. She bites her lip hard, tugs at her hair till it hurts, pinches the soft skin of her inner arm, anything anything to keep her grounded, keep her on the ground, she wasn’t going to let it carry her away, not again not again no…no…

“Audrey?”

She gasps, realizes she’s sobbing without really breathing. She stumbles away, her blood pounding hard in her ears and drowning out the invisible waves. She couldn’t lose control of herself like this. She’s a princess, a future queen; for someone to see her in the midst of her spiral would ruin her already delicately balanced reputation.

“…drey, whoa. Ssshhh…hey.”

She’s being turned around, the voice soft and gentle in the form of two hands pressed firmly to sides of her face.

“Hey,” the voice whispers again, even softer. “Hey, it’s ok. It’s ok just breathe. Breathe.”

She opens her mouth and screams without sound, a harsh desperate gasp of air that threatens to lift her back into the air.

“Ok, that’s ok,” says the voice, the hands warm on her cheeks. “Open your eyes, Audrey. Can you do that? I need you to open your eyes.”

She tries shaking her head, but it’s her body that shudders instead, and one phantom hand leaves her face to grip her shoulder.

“I need you open your eyes,” the voice echoes. “Audrey? Open your eyes.”

Does she have eyes? She can’t quite tell suddenly. There’s definitely something solid nearby, though, and she focuses on it, willing herself away from the rippling waves.

“Good, that’s good. That’s really good, Audrey, ok? Hey.” A soft shake, physical and real. “Hey, what do you see?”

She blinks, and she almost sobs at the relief that she can feel her body again, can feel the hands that are back on her face. Salt pricks bitterly at her tongue and she realizes that she is crying, and she blinks again hard to clear her vision, trying to remember who she is, trying not to slip again.

“Take a breath,” the voice instructs calmly. “Tell me what you see.”
She looks. A solid presence, a warm, cool, clear kind of color that reminds her of a well-worn argument of ‘make it pink, make it--’

“Blue,” she croaks, and the other voice sighs, almost a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah my shirt’s blue. Ok, what else? Give me four more things.”

She doesn’t want to, but she forces herself to look anyway, taking a breath and glaring through the invisible force around her. There’s the person in front of her, whoever it is remaining stubbornly out of focus but still, very much there.

“I can see you,” she offers, and the person does laugh this time.

“Ok, that’s one.”

She frowns, and looks again, pulling away from the cloud a little harder this time. “I can see the gardens…roses…the school.”

“There you go,” the person says, a lilt in their voice like a quiet cheer. “Now, what do you feel? What can you touch, I mean. Four things…sorry, I’ve only ever done this once before.”

She frowns at that, too, but she focuses, and realizes that she’s gripping the person just as firmly as they grip her.

“You,” she answers automatically. “The ground.” She almost cries with relief at that one, finally on the ground again. Back in her body. “My hair on my neck…the breeze.”

“Better,” the person says, and it occurs to her belatedly that they’re male, and then with a strange jolt, that it’s not Ben.

The realization forces her to focus in earnest now, and the world slowly shifts and snaps back into place as the stranger continues muttering quietly.

“I think…hearing. Audrey? What are three things you can hear? Aside from me.”

She lifts her head, the sounds flooding back in like through a filter, gradually getting louder and clearer as she focuses on the person before her. Tall, with a blue shirt…soft, warm hands still cupped gently around her; piercing grey-blue eyes and chiseled jaw, blonde hair that’s half flat, half spiked….

“Chad?!”

She tenses, and almost pulls away until she realizes she’s trembling and would probably topple if she tried to run. Chad starts, looking down at her in surprise, which quickly turns to worry as his brows furrow slightly.

“Hey,” he says, still in a low voice, the same low voice that had pulled her out of her spiral and back down to solid ground. “You…you ok?”

“I…” Audrey falters, biting her lip. She wants to be indignant and yell at him. How dare he invade her space and touch her like that! How dare he interrupt her while she spirals out of control! How dare he not be Ben!

But instead she steps just a bit closer, leaning into him when his arms go around her.

“No,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. “No I’m not.”

“Deep breaths,” he murmurs back, and Audrey feels a weak stab of irritation.

“I’m not going to freak out again,” she snaps, but it falls short when she catches the look in his eyes. It’s not harsh or judgmental, or even pitying. It’s just a simple, calm understanding, his expression just as open and soft.

“Tell me about it,” he says.

And so Audrey does.

She tells him everything; about the VKs and Mal’s attack; confessing her own fears and insecurities, her worry that Ben’s blind trust was going to put the entire kingdom in danger. Chad listened to all of it, not saying anything, not questioning or interrupting; just held her and listened. And by the end of it, Audrey was secretly glad that it had been him, and not Ben who’d found her.

Chad

If Chad thought he was pissed at the VKs before, he was downright murderous now. He’d been stalking through the dorms towards the school, then doubled back to head towards the gardens, thinking that that would give him a better chance at a direct route. He’s beyond glad that he’d decided on that choice, as he’d stumbled across Audrey in the midst of what he immediately recognized as an anxiety attack.

He’d had his fair share of experience with it before; his mother had almost regularly spiraled in such ways when Chad was younger. He’d watched through cracks of light in bedroom doors as his father had crouched down to her level, his voice hoarse from sleep but so calm and engaged, soft and understanding as he took his mother in his arms and talked her down to earth again. Chad had learned the techniques and memorized the words from countless hours of late night repetitions, but it had usually been his father who took control when his mother spiraled.
Except for that one time...and it was only a given that he would remember it now, as he watched Audrey gasping desperately in a tiled corner of the gardens, tears streaming down her face and her body curled in on itself in an instinctive attempt at defense against an invisible enemy.

Chad had been about seven, maybe eight. His father had gone to a Council meeting, representing both Charming’s in the continuous debates on rounding up villains to send to the Isle of the Lost. It was during one of Cinderella’s ‘cleaning sprees,’ but Chad knew that everything would be fine as long as he could keep her occupied. She didn’t ever seem fully aware of herself during these times; her eyes distant and flickering between emotions constantly. But as long as she was busy- working, cleaning the castle, making something in the kitchen; doing anything productive at all- Chad didn’t have to worry about the consequences of an episode.

It had been going well, he remembered, if not slightly stilted and awkward. His mother had been more aware than usual, more in control of herself as she’d worked in the kitchen, actually allowing Chad to help her with baking. It was a cake of some kind, like bread, she had told him with a smile. Bread that’s sweet and could be eaten any time, even at breakfast. Chad had loved that idea, and had been all too eager to help.

He could almost ignore everything else; forget about his father’s absence and the delicate thread that connected Chad to his mother and held her together. He had been smashing bananas with that destructive enthusiasm he was so rarely allowed to express at that age. Chocolate, bananas, eggs, nuts, sugar, flour. It was a simple recipe, a simple moment, and Chad was so engrossed in his task and just enjoying feeling normal for once that he didn’t even notice when the thread snapped.
But he did notice when his mother dropped her spoon, the wood clanging hollowly against the metal pan.

“Eggs,” his mother said, her voice low and frantic.

“Huh?” Chad said, his brow furrowing as he looked over his shoulder. She was gripping the quartz countertop so tightly he could see the way the blood swelled around her knuckles.

“I forgot the eggs.”

Her voice went up an octave, and Chad stopped smashing bananas, panic setting in as he realized what was happening.

“Oh no,” Chad whispered, shifting his weight away from his mother’s stiff form.

“Oh no,” she repeated hoarsely, shaking her head back and forth. “Oh, no, she’s going to be so---. How could I forget the eggs?”

Chad looked around desperately, but he knew there was no point. All the servants had been cleared from the place, and his father wouldn’t be due back for at least another few hours. It was just Chad and Cinderella, who was growing increasingly panicked, her body trembling hard as her head continued to shake back and forth.

“Stupid,” she hissed between her teeth. “How could I be so stupid? Who forgets eggs in banana loaf?”

Chad bit his lip hard, fighting his own fear and straightening slowly. He was going to have to do this. He had no other choice. The anxiety was only just setting in, he knew this. It hadn’t quite yet escalated to a full blown attack, and if he could just get her to focus on him and not her memories….

“Mom,” Chad croaked, trying to sound firm and failing miserably. “It’s ok. It’s fine, everyone makes mistakes.”

It didn’t seem to help much, though she had straightened at the sound of his voice. Chad didn’t know if that was a good sign, but he took a cautious step forward, trying to remember what his father did, how he talked, what he said.

“We can use something else instead of eggs, ok?”

“It’s ruined,” his mother whispered back, shaking her head. “There’s no fixing…I’m sorry.”

Chad winced at the apology, the high, desperate whimper in his mother’s usually composed voice. He was failing…she was starting to slip away from him. He wanted to run from the room, from the house entirely and into some other house. Some other life- a normal one, where both parents were whole and stable and didn’t fly into random fits of panic over simple things like forgotten eggs or unfolded bed sheets.

“I’m not mad,” Chad said instead, taking another step forward and reaching up to try and grasp his mother’s arm. “Ok? Mom? I’m not--”

She flinched so hard when he touched her that the whole bowl of batter crashed to the floor, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splashing lightly over Chad’s shoes and pants. His mother froze, her expression stuck in one of horror, eyes wide and mouth open in shock. Chad froze too, not daring to breathe for fear of making things even worse.

Mentally, he kicked himself, cursing his stupidity. Why did he touch her? He knew better than that, knew that when she was spiraling like this that any wrong move would be interpreted as threatening or punishing. Chad couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this, this was too much for him. Too much for anyone, how did his father do it?

Chad shifted his weight back, ready to run, to hide and just let it pass and he could explain to his father that he hadn’t been able to…it was just too much and--

His mother flinched again, though, ducking her head and recoiling from him like she was afraid he was…Chad felt his heart sink, his stomach opening up to swallow it. It occurred to him in that moment just how wicked the ‘evil stepmother’ must have been. He’d known, of course, about his mother basically being a slave in her own house, but he had never even stopped to consider that….

He felt his throat constricting, tears stinging painfully at the back of his eyes. He blinked hard, not daring to lift his hand now and wipe them away. It made horrifying sense to him now why his parents, and his father especially, were so adamantly against physically disciplining Chad in any way. Even when the tutors or other parents scolded or criticized, made claims that a ‘good smack’ would set Chad straight; teach him respect…his father had glared and scolded right back, firm and unyielding because you just didn’t. do. that.

You didn’t use physical force on someone who couldn’t fight back, or who wouldn’t understand what they’d done wrong to supposedly ‘deserve’ it. You didn’t strike someone when they didn’t listen to you, or threaten or, or hit. ‘You can’t just hit people when you’re angry, Chad.’ You don’t hit people when you’re angry and you especially don’t hit children because that’s just…evil.

All of that and more ran through Chad’s mind, as he suddenly realized just why it was his mother had thought he would hit her. Because, his mind reasoned in morbid, mature tones, a man could forcefully strike a woman with just a jerk of an arm, but for a woman to strike another woman with equal or greater force, it would only stand to reason that she would lean back before the blow…put her whole body into it.

He thought he might be sick, but more movement from his mother drew his attention. She was backed all the way against the counter now, her body bent almost as though she was trying to retreat into herself, her eyes closed tight and one hand partially raised. Trying to protect her head, he realized, but she was shaking so hard it wasn’t particularly effective.

“I’m sorry,” she pleaded, her voice not her own. That wasn’t a regal Princess or a noble Queen. Not the royal, elegant Cinderella she was almost always seen as. That was Cinderella, ‘Ella of the ashes,’ ‘dirty Ella,’ ‘cinder Ella.’

“I’m sorry,” Cinderella repeated. “I can fix it, please. I’ll fix it, I promise…don’t…”

Chad swallowed hard, stepping over the fallen batter and carefully crouching down until he was on his knees in front of his mother. Her eyes had opened at his movement, but she wouldn’t look at him, though Chad doubted he would have even seen him if she had.

“I know you’re sorry,” Chad said slowly, his voice wavering slightly but mercifully calm. “But it’s ok. It was just a mistake, and I’m not mad at you.”

She shook her head, her body tense and her eyes wary and fearful. “I’ll fix it,” she whispered again. “Please, let me fix it.”

“I don’t want you to fix it,” Chad said, his voice a little stronger now. “There’s nothing to fix. I’m not mad at you, ok?”

She didn’t say anything this time, but she wasn’t shaking anymore, and Chad drew a slow breath. She subconsciously copied him, and Chad felt a flicker of hope. He might actually be able to do this.
He took another breath, and again, his mother followed his lead, drawing slower breaths in time with his own. Chad almost cried with relief, but he forced that feeling aside, and instead inched a little closer, slowly and carefully reaching out a hand and placing it on her knee. She didn’t flinch this time, and Chad gently squeezed, clearing his throat softly before starting again.

“Mom? It’s…it’s Chad. Do you…can you…can you look at me? Please?” He was almost begging now, desperate for her to come back to him, but he quickly stopped himself. If he broke now, it could set her off all over again.

“Mom,” Chad said again, firmly, but calmly, like his Dad did. “I need you to look at me, ok? Open your eyes, please. Look at me.”

She did, slowly lifting her head, light grey eyes a reflection of his own opening to peer at him cautiously.

Chad sighed softly, a tiny smile flickering across his lips. “Ok,” he said softly. “Ok, that’s good. That’s really good, Mom.”

“Chad?”

Audrey’s voice, hoarse and confused, snaps him out of his memories and back into the moment. He looks down to see her staring up at him, warm brown eyes clouded with tears and a still-lingering panic, and he starts slightly when she suddenly tries to jerk away from him. He knows even before she does that she won’t make it even a step away, not with the way she’s shaking, and he has his arms around her before he even thinks about it, holding her close and whispering softly in her ear.

“Hey,” he says in a low, soothing voice that had been honed to near perfection over the years. “Are you…are you ok?”

Despite his calm tone, he’s still thrown by the suddenness of the situation, and it comes through in the slight hesitation of his words. But it seems to ground Audrey nonetheless, as she starts to offer some kind of response. Chad half expects to hear some kind of indignity, and so he’s surprised when she steps closer into his embrace, her fingers coming up to grasp his shirt collar as she shakes her head against his chest.

“No,” she whispers in broken tones. “No, I’m not.”

He half hears himself asking her to tell him what’s wrong, and listens in a stunned sort of daze as she pours everything out to him. To think that it had taken something as horrible as the VKs, something as helplessly terrifying as an anxiety attack to bring Chad closer to Audrey.

Closer, and yet, still so impossibly far. He knows he’s crossing a line, feels an instinctive pang of guilt as he thinks that it should be Ben holding Audrey like this. Ben is the one who’s supposed to be comforting her and whispering ‘it’s ok, I’m here’ in her ear. But he’s not Ben, and Audrey wasn’t pulling away from him like she definitely should have. Chad holds her just a little tighter, and determines that for however long this lasts, however long she needs him like this; he’ll be there. He’s not letting go.

Mal

Her mother was making her memorize spells again, and Mal couldn’t have hated it more. The original thrill of learning magic had worn off long ago, and now she was stuck with rote repetition, repeating meaningless syllables and rhymes and rhythms, earning a sharp slap from her mother each time she misspoke or tripped over the complicated vowels.
Mal thought about the girl she had thrown into the ocean the other day and smiled, stifling a dark chuckle of amusement as she stared down into the worn out pages of the spell book. The little shrimp had guts, Mal would give her that. But she would need to learn her place before Mal would even consider….

Crack!

Mal’s head snapped sharply to the left as Maleficent struck another blow. She brought her eyes up see her mother glaring at her fiercely, her usually light eyes darkened with sinister green. She drew her hand back again, and Mal flinched in spite of herself, ducking her head in a pitiful attempt at defense. Instantly she knew she’d made a mistake, her mother’s voice a dangerous growl.

“What have I always told you?” she hissed, her fingers gripping Mal’s chin and forcing her head up to meet her furious gaze. “Dragons to not cower, Mal.”

“Yes mother,” Mal said lowly, gritting her jaw and forcing herself to continue meeting her mother’s eyes, though it wasn’t hard with the venomous green overriding her body’s instincts.

The next blow was just to be cruel, Mal was sure. She couldn’t flinch away even if she tried…though of course, she did. But her mother’s gaze was impenetrable, and Mal had no choice but to accept the stinging pain.

“Better,” Maleficent rumbled, though Mal could tell she was still not pleased. “We’ll work on it. Just because you are young doesn’t give you any excuse for weakness.”

“I understand,” Mal replied dutifully, though her stomach churned resentfully, her cheeks flushed with painful shame.

“Do you?” her mother murmured, her eyes no longer piercing green, but seeming to stare through Mall all the same. “I wonder…”

Mal said nothing, though her jaw twitched slightly to the side as her mother reached down to pick up the spell book.

“You can barely understand the most basic concepts of magic,” Maleficent sneered. “How can I expect you to understand what it takes to be evil? Truly strong, for once in your miserable little life.”

Mal seethed, and before she knew what she was doing she blurted: “I threw a girl into the ocean yesterday.”

She froze as soon as the words were out, and her mother paused her tirade, lifting a cool brow at her in surprise.

“Oh?” she said, and Mal felt like she had been slapped again when she heard the condescending amusement.

“She was trying to challenge me for territory,” Mal continued regardless, clenching her fists under the table. “So I threw her into the deep part by the rocks to show her just who was in charge.”

“And just who is that?” Her mother said, sounding almost…bored?

“Me,” Mal said, but her confidence was gone, the word sounding pitiful even to her ears.

Maleficent chuckled softly, her lip curling dismissively. “Child’s play,” she hissed. “I expect better than simple squabbles from you, Mal. If you want to earn your name, you have to think bigger! It’s all in the details.”

“Details,” Mal muttered bitterly, her resentment tipping over and lighting in her eyes. Her hands coiled beneath the table in the same gestures she’d seen in the books, imagining a fire coming up to scorch her mother and her stupid criticisms.

Maleficent’s eyes widened, a sharp gasp slipping past her lips. “There,” she cried gleefully, a smile crossing almost unnaturally across her face and startling Mal so much her eyes lost their green glow.

“There it is,” her mother continued, ignoring Mal’s unease. “There’s my dragon!”

Mal straightened in surprise, a familiar warm flicker in her chest. She hadn’t called her ‘little dragon’ since Mal was five. The affectionate name seemed to have died the moment Mal showed no progress with magic, though she noted that the ‘little’ part seemed to still be dead.

“That, Mal,” her mother said eagerly, stalking forward and leaning over the table towards her. “Hold on to that, right there. That is what it feels like. True power…true evil.”

She smiled again, and Mal thought that she would never be as terrified of her mother than when she was smiling.

“Just remember that, Mal,” Maleficent said emphatically. “And you will topple kingdoms.”

Carlos

Running is a kind of victory, Jay had told him once on the Isle. If you couldn’t fight, at least you could run, and sometimes that could save your life. Live to fight another day. Run, so you could win.

It didn’t feel like a victory this time, though. Carlos wasn’t being chased- at least, not by anything physical, but he wasn’t about to slow down for anything. His heart pounds a frantic sort of staccato in his chest, and he knows if he were to try and say something, his tongue would do the same. He runs out of the gardens and across the fields, barely breaking stride to slam into the doors to the school. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the closest empty hallway, and he collapses against an alcove of lockers, his breath coming out in short, heavy bursts.

He brings a hand up and clamps it over his mouth in a desperate attempt to force calm, but a choking sound comes out anyway and he ends up doubling over, his eyes squeezed shut tightly at the burn of tears. He wishes he had Claw, and curses the Fairy Godmother for taking it away from him and leaving him so defenseless. His knife would have been a much better defense in the confrontation in the gardens. Certainly would have at least helped more than his silence.

Carlos still doesn’t want to believe it, but now he really has no choice. He had been hoping when he had joined the Auradon kids for breakfast the other day that they had simply misspoken, or were just confused. Aziz couldn’t have really had a boyfriend in that way, otherwise they wouldn’t have been acting so casually about it. They wouldn’t have allowed it in Auradon, of all places. Except Aziz really did have a boyfriend…Aziz really was gay, and Auradon really did allow it.

That alone, far more than the dogs, had made Carlos almost wish he were back on the Isle. At least dogs were straightforward when they attacked you; not like….

‘We’re not the bad guys here,’ Jane’s words came back to him, and Carlos shook his head hard, trying to catch his breath, to remember how to breathe at all.

‘Things are different here,’ she had tried to insist, but Carlos had refused to believe it. Still refused, although there was a small part of him that regretted how things had happened at the party- that cringed at the thoughts that went through his head and were echoed in his place by Mal and Evie and Jay.

He had liked Aziz.

That’s why he feels so horrified, he reasons. He had liked how Aziz had been like Jay, but still different, how the older boy had instantly accepted Carlos and forced him out of his boundaries. Liked how the other boy had a mischievous streak to rival Evie’s, but who hadn’t once looked down on Carlos or the rest of the VKs, who had actually given them a chance to just be…people.
Carlos groans miserably, banging his head against the metal lockers behind him. Why hadn’t he said anything? He could stand by just fine when it was the Isle, scout out escapes and let the others do the majority of the trash talk or fighting. It didn’t bother him then when Mal and Uma would have tense standoffs, hurling insults and vicious curses that would have made even Maleficent grimace in appreciation. And yet, when it was being directed at someone that he had, scarily enough, become slightly attached to; nothing.

Why was this so hard? When had things become so confusing? There was a very clear cut set of rules. He knew this, everyone knew this. So why was he having so much trouble all of a sudden?

“There you are de Vil.”

Carlos jumps, opening his eyes and straightening quickly at the sound of the enraged voice. He turned his head to see that the hallway was not quite empty now, a small straggling group of students passing just outside his range on their way to other classes or study halls. But the voice had come from the other end of the hall, and when Carlos looks, it’s to come face to face with Chad, the older boy scowling tightly and marching with purpose in his direction.

“Sshit,” Carlos whispers, standing completely and stepping away from the lockers to avoid becoming trapped, his eyes instantly scanning for potential outs.

“What sort of game are you playing at, Freak?” Chad spits, his face twisting further as he closes in. “Where do you get off on that kind of shit?”

Carlos pauses his catalog of the exits, (one right behind him, if he wanted to throw himself into the crowd of students. Another behind Chad, if he thought he could shove past and outrun him…tricky timing, though…dangerous, but a necessary risk), looking up at the other boy and lifting a confused brow. He didn’t want to engage in any kind of speaking contest; didn’t want to give the asshole more of an excuse, but he wasn’t quite ready to back down either.

“Don’t give me that clueless act, de Vil.”

Chad is uncomfortably close now, practically towering over him, and Carlos swallows hard, setting his face into a neutral, but deadly mask.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Chad hisses, and this close Carlos can see every twitch of the other boy’s face. “That little stunt you and your villain gang pulled in the gardens with Aziz and Nikki…that’s just a whole other level of evil.”

Carlos feels his mask drop with his sudden surprise, though even as his expression lifts, his stomach sinks.

“H-how?” he mutters, and Chad scoffs sharply, his eyes narrowing.

“When I found Aziz back at our dorm room instead of at your little ‘party’ I knew something was up,” the other boy says. “But then he got himself all worked up, started talking about the VKs and just what had happened…what you said, and well…let’s just say I wasn’t about to let it go.”

Carlos’ body becomes a bottomless pit, everything draining out of him and leaving him empty and boneless against the metal lockers. He just can’t seem to win with this, and he realizes, as Chad continues to glower at him, that his only option is to either fight back, or try and squirm his way out somehow.

“Can’t even say anything now, can you, de Vil?” Chad spits, and Carlos tenses as the other boy grabs the collar of his shirt threateningly.

“Le-le-le-let go of mme,” Carlos growls, though his mind is racing, all his instincts screaming at him to run! Fight! Something!

Chad scoffs and does the opposite, gripping Carlos so tightly his fingers pinch his shoulder. Carlos panics briefly; not because of the threat, although it is very much there in his mind, but because he can feel the fabric starting to give under Chad’s grip, and this was his only red shirt.

“G-Get off!” Carlos grumbles, struggling to free himself. “You’re gonna rrrip it!”

Chad lets go suddenly, and Carlos staggers back a bit, the metal of the lockers cool against his skin. He quickly checks for damage, and though the shirt is definitely worn from the abuse, it’s still mostly ok. He sighs softly in relief, then snaps his head up when Chad hisses sharply.

“Are you…fucking with me right now?” the other boy murmurs, and Carlos grits his teeth, shuffling anxiously at the danger in his tone. “You harass my fr--my roommate, and yet the only thing you’re worried about is a shirt?!”

Carlos stiffens as Chad lunges forward, grabbing him again and practically snarling in his face. “Give me one reason,” he spits. “One fucking good reason why I shouldn’t make you feel the exact same pain you made him feel? Go ahead de Vil. One reason, I dare you.”

Carlos goes entirely still, his racing instincts and panic stuttering to a jerky halt. “I…he…wha-wha-what?”

Chad sneers, anger hardening his eyes. “You really don’t care, do you?”

Carlos gapes, unable to process. Aziz was…hurting? In pain, because of what he had done? He barely has time to even think this, as Chad suddenly draws back his fist, and Carlos’ instincts come screaming back. Fighting wasn’t going to be an option, now. His only hope was to do what he did best…look pitiful and weak.

Carlos presses his back firmly into the lockers, closing his eyes and hunching his shoulders and spine, bringing his arms up to hug his body and protect his vital organs. Don’t hit me, his body seemed to scream. Look how weak and vulnerable I am. You don’t want to hurt me, do you?

It didn’t always work; in fact, it hardly ever did. Either he would be laughed at; mocked or humiliated in some way for the weakness, and then beaten anyway; or, in the case of Cruella…Carlos shudders at the memories of her pressing the hot end of her cigarettes to his exposed skin. He tucks himself tighter together, his head firmly wedged between his arms, and holds his breath as he waits for Chad’s attack.

After a tense moment, Carlos realizes it isn’t coming, and he lifts his eyes to peer through his arms, frowning in confusion. Chad wasn’t moving at all, his hands limp fists at his sides and his face pinched with something Carlos couldn’t define. It couldn’t have been anything good, and he shifts his weight back a bit more until he can feel the metal grooves of the lockers imprinting on his spine.
Chad shakes his head slowly, his expression shifting suddenly into a careful mask. Carlos blinks, surprised. It’s not as good as one of his, but Chad’s front was still solid enough that he couldn’t quite read his intentions. Carlos debates trying to make a run for it, when the other boy moves suddenly, leaning his weight back sharply onto his left leg, twisting his torso in preparation, his face still that cautious mask.

“Sshit,” Carlos hisses, his instincts flooding back and forcing his body to move without thought. He flinches back, slamming into the lockers and flinging his arms up again…but he knows it’s too late when he hears the unmistakable forward shuffle of movement, and feels cold, furious fingers close around his shirt.

He does the only thing he can think of.

“Ssorry,” he whispers through his teeth, hating how weak he must look, bracing for the impact. “I’m-m ssory….”

His body cringes tighter, until he’s practically nothing more than a tiny ball wedged between Chad and the lockers. He waits without breathing, stiffening when he hears Chad move again.

“Fucking son of a bitch,” Chad snaps lowly, and then lower, so Carlos almost thinks he misheard, “I can’t do this.”

Chad’s fingers loosen on his shirt, and shift so they rest on his shoulder, faltering before lowering suddenly. Carlos feels his heart skip, his stomach fluttering back into place as he cautiously lifts his head. He’s entirely thrown to see Chad take a step back, his hands at his sides and his body angled pointedly away from him. It’s a trap, it has to be, but Carlos finds himself straightening anyway, his own hands clenching and unclenching rapidly.

“W-what…?” he tries to ask, but stops when Chad jerks his head sharply in the direction of the hallway.

“Just…” the other boy’s face twists in a grimace before he steels himself again. “Fuck it, just…follow me.”

Carlos blinks. Then blinks again, just to be sure. Chad is still standing there, but it was like all the fight had just been forcibly removed from his body. It could still be a trap, Carlos’ brain shouts at him.

“F-f-follow you?” Carlos repeats, as sharply as he can with the ‘f’ sticking to his lips.

“Yes, follow me,” Chad snaps. “What, did I stutter?”

And there’s the Chad Carlos was expecting; not…whatever he’d been a second ago. He could have sworn he’d seen something like understanding…. Carlos shakes his head quickly, and scowls up at the arrogant prince.

“Ass-hole,” he bites out jerkily, and Chad’s grimace becomes a familiar sneer.

“Let’s go de Vil,” he mutters. “Unless you want me to drag you.”

“Fuck yyou.”

“Dragging it is,” Chad grumbles, and steps forward again, so quickly that Carlos doesn’t manage to dodge in time.

The other boy grabs him by the shirt again, but the grip is different, somehow. Still forceful, and entirely apathetic to Carlos’ yelp of protest…but Chad was clearly making an effort not to yank too hard at Carlos’ collar. He’d actually grabbed more of Carlos than the shirt, though the fabric still strained, and Carlos was left with no choice but to desperately scramble along after him, whimpering and cursing the entire time.

“Try and keep up de Vil,” Chad drawls, and Carlos growls in response, attempting to kick him and only succeeding in making himself trip.
Chad drags him through the halls until they reach a flight of stairs, and Carlos begins to wonder just where it was he was being taken. He realizes that he should have thought of this before, and the instinctive fear of being trapped somewhere forces him to abandon his hopes of an undamaged shirt and wriggle free. He winces at the slight rip of fabric, and shoves away from Chad, crossing his arms and glaring sourly at the other boy.

“I can climb sstairs by m-m-m-myself,” he snaps, and Chad raises an eyebrow at him but says nothing, instead gesturing at the staircase in a grand ‘after you.’

Carlos flips him off, but stomps quickly up the stairs, breaking into a full sprint by the time he’d reached the top. This was his chance! Once he reached the top he would keep going to the end of the hall and from there….

He comes to a dead stop, his insides freezing in shock. It was a trap. There’s nothing but endless halls, with solid, closed doors on either side. The dorms.

“Going somewhere, de Vil?” Chad says smartly from behind him. Carlos wants to turn around and punch him in the face, but he knows it wouldn’t get him anywhere for long. He’d eventually be tracked down again and punished, and then brought right back here.

“Course n-nnot,” he mutters back bitterly, moving forward and down the hall at Chad’s prompting.

He shuffles moodily, dragging his feet in vain hopes that it would slow down…whatever was about to happen. Then he hears Chad stop behind him, and he jumps when the other boy taps him on the shoulder, spinning around quickly to face him.

“Right here,” Chad says, both brows lifted in surprise, before he presses his lips tightly together.

Carlos narrows his eyes at him, but Chad simply knocks once at the door before shoving it open, dragging Carlos in behind him. Carlos had just enough time to catch sight of the number on the door before he’s closed in, and he hears a sour, sharp twanging sound behind him, coupled by a sharp intake of breath and a sudden equally sharp:

“Oh, fuck no!”

Jay

He was about six feet off the ground, clinging almost feverishly to the wooden pole. It wouldn’t have sucked so hard if the thing wasn’t so fucking high. Or if he’d ever climbed anything like it before. Shame, the Isle was fresh out of 20 foot tall flagpoles to scale. As it was, Jay was stuck with inching his way up bit by bit, his quickly fraying leather cuffs the only thing keeping him from tumbling in a smear stain down the wood.

He grit his teeth and pushes up with his feet, grateful that he’d thought to kick his shoes off before attempting to scale it a second time. His bare feet provided a better grip than the rubbery soles, at least, and he used the little leverage he gained to lean back, jerking his arms up quickly and grasping at the pole. He could almost feel the leather straps straining to keep him in place, but after a moment he grinned, letting out a breathless laugh despite the pain…he’d made it another inch.

From his vantage point he could almost see over the entire tourney field, and Jay frowns as he notices the sudden lack of white tents. He glances back up towards the top of the pole, glowering at the bright pink flag waving obnoxiously at the top. Next time, he vows, before shimmying back down the pole, letting go and dropping the last couple feet. He winces at the brief shock and then straightens, casting one more glance back at the pole before shoving his feet back into his shoes and jogging back in the direction of the party.

Now that he’s on the ground again he’s able to take full stock of the soreness of his body. The weird, colorful Auradon fairies had actually done a decent job patching him up, but he could still feel the dull ache in his chest from where his ribs were still finishing healing. The stiffness in his arms and legs, however, was pure sport; that familiar athletic burn that reminded him he was alive. Jay had missed that feeling, remembering all those times back on the Isle when he’d accomplished some daring stunt or pulled of a successful heist, that rush of pride and the added reward of aching muscles.
He grits his jaw in a grim smile as he runs, the scar across his chest throbbing and reminding him that not all aches were good ones. He shakes his head hard, trying and failing to shove the thoughts and memories from his mind. To think that all this time, he’d not just been cozying up to the son of Jafar’s enemy, but that son was also attracted to dudes…. Jay’s jaw twists into a grimace. He was more than confident in his own straightness, but with Aziz…how was that going to reflect on him?

Relationships on the Isle were a tricky thing. They existed, sure, but genuine, romantic relationships were extremely rare, and extremely well concealed. There was no such thing as love or ‘attraction’ at first sight, or any of that other bullshit Auradon tried to sell. Only casual, fleeting glances and approving calls of insults or slurs, nothing extending farther than finding someone to satisfy the urge for a quick fuck.

And that’s not even including the utterly hellish situation that was same-sex relationships. They mostly followed the same base instinct of the Isle; the aforementioned need for something quick and cheap. There was the odd ‘couple,’ but it still tended to stay within the meaningless nothings; only that if you were ‘together’ it just meant you had exclusive claims to any and all sex with that person. It was simple enough, really, though ridicule tended to follow any same-sex couple regardless; that a person was that weak or that desperate that they couldn’t even follow the one thing nature had intended for them.

But then there was a very fine line between an easy fix and something else, especially with the adults. Propositions came from all sides, and if you were already so inclined it just made you that much easier of a target. And then of course, there were those men who sought out pleasures from any source regardless of any attraction other than….
Jay’s stomach pangs uncomfortably as his mind tries to force images onto him; the feeling of the sword against his throat; cutting ruthlessly across his collarbone. Hazy rooms that stunk of alcohol and illegal substances and forbidden touches. Jay trips over his feet and curses, quickly regaining his balance and brushing his shirt in an attempt to compose himself. It didn’t matter, he hisses to his traitorous brain, clenching his trembling hands. It happened ages ago, he was over it, it didn’t matter!

Except, it did. It mattered because he had thought he’d actually found something in Auradon to be excited about; a kindred spirit who, despite not being a VK, got what it was like. Got what Jay was like, but didn’t hate him for it. He’d…he’d enjoyed hanging out with Aziz. But he should have known better. Good things didn’t just come to guys like Jay; villains didn’t have friends. There was no team in I, and this was just another one of those painful reminders.

Well, Jay didn’t plan on forgetting anytime soon. He straightens again, and walks with new determination across the field.

“There’s no team in I,” he mutters under his breath, his fists swinging sharply at his sides in time with his strides. “There’s no team in I. There’s no….”

His words falter slightly as he reaches the center of the gardens. All the tents are gone, some pegs still in the ground at odd angles, rough divots in the soft earth telling Jay that the place had been hastily evacuated. Instantly he tenses, drawing his fists partially up and shifting his weight back to his heels as he creep forward slowly. It’s not that he expects some kind of sneak attack; the place is too wide open and exposed for that. It’s that everything is just so…quiet.

It’s unnerving how not-cheery the atmosphere seems to be, and Jay hurries across the stretch that had held the tents of food, towards the gazebos where he’d last seen his group. The gazebos are empty, the fields between them bare, but there’s a sharp, static taste in his mouth, a strong, harsh smell in the air. Jay freezes, and crouches low to the ground, eyeing the imprints of feet in the dirt. The footprints are set deep in the ground, all close together, and some with a small hill of dirt in front of them.
He hums quietly to himself as his mind races. A group of Auradonians, no doubt, judging by the narrow tread of what could only be fancy shoes and the clear spiked holes of high heels. And they’d been cowering, or running from something.

“Mal,” Jay mutters, straightening sharply and turning on his heel.

He’s running before he’s even aware of it, reaching the school in no time and slamming through the doors. His beat up sneakers squeak obnoxiously in the hallways, and the students milling around instantly scramble out of his way, shooting him glares and crying out indignantly. Jay ignores them all and keeps going, scanning the signs on the walls and trying to think of where he could find his group. They’d never really been separated like this since coming together…so forcefully and entirely out of control; out of place.

“Jay!”

He comes to such a complete stop that he can practically feel the rubber soles of his shoes leaving an imprint on the white tiles. He turns to see Carlos and Evie sprinting down the hall towards him. Jay almost feels a rush of relief, and then two things occur to him at once. Namely, that there’s no Mal rushing towards him either, and both Evie and Carlos’ faces are pale and tightly closed off.

He shakes his head once; denial, disbelief?- running forward to meet them and instinctively angling his body to keep them all as concealed from prying eyes as possible.

“Where’s Mal?” he demands instantly, and Evie and Carlos exchange a fleeting glance, Carlos’ fingers flickering through signs down by his sides. Jay grits his jaw in frustration and tries to interpret, then realizes that Carlos is simply signing the alphabet on a loop; a nervous habit when things were too overwhelming or just so bad that he couldn’t talk at all.

“Ah, fucking fuck,” Jay hisses sharply between his teeth, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.

“She’s in the infirmary,” Evie explains in low, frantic tones. “We need to go, now.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Jay replies, and they’re all off again, Carlos in front, with Evie and Jay behind and on either side like wings.

“What happened?” Jay mutters as they run, Evie directing Carlos with a tap on the shoulder to indicate turns. “The field…there was a weird…”

“We met the King,” Evie says in clipped tones. “It didn’t go well.”

She leaves it at that, and Jay clenches and unclenches his jaw nervously as they approach the infirmary wing. He’d only just left this place and now he was back again. Sure, it wasn’t him that was hurt, but the anxieties the sharp chemical smell stirred in him remained. The row of chairs outside the doors were entirely occupied again, and their owners all rise to their feet as Jay and the others approach.

Jay registers Ben, face pinched and worried in the front, but all he can fully focus on is the two adults just behind him and quickly working their way forward. Belle, the Queen sharing Ben’s worried and fearful expression, her lips parting and a soft noise sounding from them; as King Beast himself firmly steps past Ben to confront them.

Evie sucks a quiet, but sharp breath, and the formation instantly shifts. Without thought, Jay is now in front, and he keeps one hand outstretched behind him, just enough that he can feel both Evie and Carlos and ensure their security. Jay is startled to see that man is actually taller than him, by at least three or four inches, but he knows better than to let it show. Instead, Jay straightens further, lifting his chin determinedly to meet the beast glare to glare.

“And just what,” the ‘king’ all but growls, “do you three think you’re doing here?”

Jay lifts a cool brow, and presses his fingers just a little closer against Evie as he feels her flinch.

“S’cuse me?” Jay responds slowly. “I think you were forgetting the part where that’s our friend in there. You think we’re gonna just stay away?”

The king bristles, and Jay could swear he’s actually growling now. It’s more than a little disconcerting, but the Queen steps up quickly and places a hand on the king’s arm and the sound lessens slightly.

“I made it clear that I didn’t want any of you interfering until it was decided what was going to happen,” the man rumbled lowly.

Jay feels Evie press back against his hand, and he instantly takes a confronting step forward, refusing to let her do what he knows she wants to and take the blame.

“We only just heard about this now,” he challenges. “Again, what else do you expect from us?”

“Perhaps a little bit of respect!” the king snaps sharply, and Carlos cringes, a stifled whimper coming from Evie. “Perhaps a shred of humanity! Though of course, what was I thinking? How silly of me to expect such things from a bunch of villains!”

Jay feels all of his anger spike sharply, his fury settling down around him like a cool shroud. He crosses his arms over his chest, subtly tightening his arms and allowing his muscles to flex. He tilts his jaw left and then right-  a subtle signal to retreat disguised into the showy bravado of cracking his neck. He feels more than hears both Evie and Carlos shifting back to a safer distance, and Jay is just bracing himself for the impending violence when Ben breaks in suddenly.

“Dad!” he cries, and his voice is strained with horror but surprisingly firm. “That’s enough!”

“No it is not enough, Ben,” the beast retorts, even more firmly. “It is nowhere near enough. I argued from the beginning that letting villains in to Auradon would only to destruction, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

Ben opens his mouth to speak, but a sharp noise from the king cuts him off. The sound is equal parts a warning shout, and something that no human throat should have ever been able to produce.

“You will listen. now,” the king says, and Ben blinks, closing his mouth firmly and losing just a little more color.

Well shit, Jay thinks, uncrossing his arms and shifting his weight back to join the others. This just might be a better time to retreat than fight after all. No one in the hallway moves; Jay doesn’t even think they’re breathing, either. All eyes are fixed anxiously on the king, who is so engrossed in his anger that when the door opens, it almost goes unnoticed.

“Oh…I…what?”

The Fairy Godmother’s stunned gasping shatters the animalistic tension, and though everyone goes back to breathing, the beast himself is far from relaxed.

“Fairy Godmother,” he says stiffly, turning on his heel to confront the older woman. “What is the news?”

The Fairy Godmother is silent for several moments, her eyes wide as she takes in the pale and shocked faces around her, locking eyes with Jay and the others briefly before faltering.

“Yes, well…it’s…more complicated than we thought,” she finally manages, and almost without thought Jay, Evie and Carlos take a collective step forward.

“Complicated?” Jay asks, and though he doesn’t mean it as a threat, it’s taken as one, as the Fairy Godmother winces and averts her gaze.

“Mal’s magic has, er, placed her into a kind of…coma,” she says quietly. “The sudden use of so much power nearly depleted Mal’s energy entirely, but her magic responded and rendered her into a nearly zero energy state to recover.”

Jay shakes his head, baffled but certain that this was the end. He doesn’t dare turn around to see how the others take the news; he feels Carlos loop his fingers through Jay’s belt loop, and hears Evie make a choking sound.

“What does that mean, Mom?”

Jay blinks, caught off guard, then realizes that Jane had been among the other faces he had systematically ignored.

“It means, dear one,” the Fairy Godmother sighs quietly. “That Mal is sleeping, and will wake again when her magic, and her body, allows.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand,” Ben murmurs, and the Fairy Godmother looks like she would rather be anywhere else but here.

“Magic is a complicated thing,” she says patiently.

“It’s not just something that comes preprogrammed like a cellphone; you can’t just pick it up and use it however you want. Magic is alive, and extremely volatile when in the wrong…shall I say, inexperienced hands.”

“Mal said something like that once,” Jay remembers, his mouth blurting the words almost desperately. “She said she doesn’t use magic, the magic uses her.”

“Yes, it’s almost exactly like that,” the Fairy Godmother says, and the look on her face is something like pleasant surprise. “When magic is woven so tightly in a person’s blood that it essentially makes up who they are even down to a genetic level, suppressing it is…not advised.”

The last two words are tight and strained, like she’s trying to keep herself from yelling suddenly.

“Like the barrier,” Ben mutters dazedly, and the Fairy Godmother nods, pursing her lips.

“Exactly. Being bound by the barrier, and then suddenly arriving in Auradon where there’s magic everywhere, well…the pressure builds, and the magic explodes in unideal ways.”

“Unideal?” The beast is suddenly back in control of the conversation, and there’s a collective tensing from the occupants of the hallway. “I’m not sure if you have been told, Fairy Godmother, but that girl tried to kill me.”

Jay’s head snaps up in shock, then whips around to stare at Evie, searching her face for signs of the truth. She shakes her head once, but her eyes are clouded with fear, and he grimaces sharply before turning back around.

“With all due respect, Your Majesty,” Lonnie pipes up out of nowhere. “I think it was a misunderstanding. A horrible one, to be sure, and I’m not trying to say it’s ok, but still. I don’t think it was intentional.”

“I appreciate your input Lonnie,” the beast says, in that tight condescending tone of someone who was set in the belief that they were right. “But I don’t believe….”

“From Mal’s perspective, you were going to attack them,” Lonnie continues bravely, and without regard. “Things had been said in anger and without thought, but anyone could clearly tell that while you were open in your anger, Mal’s was muted, and strictly defensive. When you stepped forward, it was perceived as a threat, and she acted accordingly.”

“Damn,” Jay whispers harshly. It’s barely above a breath, but in the suddenly silent hallway, it’s clearly heard. Lonnie’s lips twitch slightly at the corners, but the rest of her face remains a respectful mask, and Jay finds himself subconsciously adding her to his list of people/things that he liked about Auradon.

“Specifics aside,” the beast growls sternly, his tone suggesting that he too, had heard Jay’s exclamation and was not pleased. “The facts remain the same, and a solution must be decided. Given the obvious attempt on my life and the multiple other incriminating circumstances, there is no other choice.”

The world tilts severely on an axis, the hallway narrowing and then blinking out of existence entirely. Nothing exists except for the words which hang in the air, colliding against each other and shattering out into piercing, lethal fragments.

“I hereby revoke Ben’s decree, and rescind the rights of Mal, Jay, Evie and Carlos as citizens of Auradon. As soon as the necessary arrangements are made they will sent back to the Isle of the Lost. This is my decree…effective immediately.”

Chapter Text

Ben

Ben sits in numb silence in the conference room of the infirmary wing, his parents’ words bombarding him relentlessly from both sides. They echo more like a hollow buzzing in his ears, not quite sound but registering all the same; bristling cold on one end and burning hot on the other. 

“You can’t do this!”

His mother’s voice is urgent, but low enough that it doesn’t carry through the walls. His father paces a furious and apathetic circle around her, his jaw grit tightly together while his lips pull back in a grimace that reminds Ben, terrifyingly, of a wolf snarling at its prey.

“I am the king, I have more than enough jurisdiction to--”

“This is Ben’s decree…”

“Auradon is my kingdom! And I will not have those villains here a second longer!”

“So what…you’ll just throw them out like we did their parents? And what about Mal? You’d really…”

“After that attack? Yes, I really would.”

Ben sucks a quiet breath, the hopelessness of getting his father to see reason sinking in deep. His mother lifts her chin to level his father with a severe look, momentarily pausing his furious rampage.

“Then you’d be no different than the very villains you despise so much. They are children, Adam! How can you possibly…?”

“It is not your decision to make….”

“That’s true,” she counters smoothly. “And it is not yours, either. You relinquished control of this over to Ben, therefore…”

“I’m not going to discuss this any further. I am still the king, and as long as that holds true, it is not your place to question the decisions I make!”

Whoa.

Ben’s head snaps up sharply, his eyes flickering between the forms of his parents. Subconsciously he realizes that he’d tucked himself a little harder against the wall, and he straightens quickly, frowning at the strange ideas his mind tries to impress on him. His father towers over his mother, the strange snarling grimace far more apparent now. His breathing is harsh and comes out in a vicious growl that sends painful chills down Ben’s spine.

It occurs to him, in that moment, that just because his father was human, didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t still a beast somewhere underneath. Ben’s eyes stray unbidden down to his father’s hands, with are curved into loose, but powerful fists that tremble slightly with each angry breath.

“Ben,” his mother says suddenly, startling him from his terrified reverie. “Why don’t you go find your friends?”

Her voice is deadly calm, devoid of inflection, and when she says nothing more, Ben lifts his eyes to see that she is staring calmly into his father’s furious face. Her own eyes are sorrowful, but determined, and not at all horrified like Ben expects them to be. He casts another look at his father to see that his hands are no longer trembling, a strange sort of stillness in them, almost like a calculated preparation for…something.

Ben draws a tight breath of his own, and shakes his head slowly, taking a half step away from the wall. “I don’t think…”

“Now, Benjamin,” his mother says, and he knows better than to argue with that.

He swallows stiffly and crosses to the door, wanting to look back but not daring for fear of what he might see. He hates himself, cursing his cowardice and half debating whether he should storm back into the room and demand for calm and an explanation, but then the door clicks firmly behind him, and Ben finds himself resolutely locked out. He hesitates a moment, holding his breath and listening desperately at the door, not quite knowing what it is he’s dreading to hear. There’s nothing for a moment, then his mother’s voice starts up again, softer than before. He can’t make out what she’s saying, but her tone is heavy and dark, yielding for nothing, and he decides he doesn’t want to be there any longer and breaks into a run down the hall.

Ben is met halfway by Chad, who is followed closely by Audrey, Jane, Lonnie and Doug, their faces flushed and frantic.

“Ben, there you are,” Chad gasps, and Audrey instantly slips past the other boy to wrap Ben up in a quick but solid hug.

“We’ve been looking everywhere,” she says to his chest, then pulls away, her eyes serious as she looks up at him. “What…Ben you’re shaking.”

He realizes belatedly that he is, but he shakes his head hard and bites his lip. “It’s nothing.” He manages the lie quite well, considering, and he forces himself to stay calm. He wasn’t going to lose control of himself like his father had just done. “What is it?”

“Emergency meeting in the library,” Chad says, his grey eyes like steel. “Now.”

“Wait,” Ben tries to protest weakly, remembering the last time he’d been pulled aside suddenly like this. “Can…can you explain what’s going on?”

Chad exchanges a glance with Audrey, of all people, and his girlfriend gives a minute shake of her head. Chad’s eyes flicker with something too fast for Ben to interpret, but then the other boy shakes his head as well.

“No,” he says, without hesitation. “Library, come on.”

Ben has no real choice but to follow, and there’s nothing but the sound of their collective feet hitting the tile and the harsh, off beat synchronization of breath. They reach the library sooner than Ben had expected, and Lonnie stops and holds the door open for all of them, offering Ben a tight, fleeting smile as he slips past her. The librarian doesn’t even look up at them as they enter, simply hisses:

“SHHH!” before returning to her stack of books to rearrange on the shelves.

Their previous circle of chairs and cushions is set up once again, though not entirely empty as two figures sit enfolded in each other on the narrow sofa. They seamlessly slide into a more casual position as Ben and the others approach, though Ben notices that Nikhil makes it a point to keep one arm linked firmly in Aziz’s.

“Good, you guys are here,” Chad murmurs as he tugs a chair away from the loop to sit in it. “I wasn’t sure if…”

“We’re here,” Aziz says shortly, cutting him off. “So tell us what this is about.”

“Right,” Chad says, dropping abruptly into his chair and eyeing his roommate warily. “Are you still pissed that I…?”

“Extremely,” Aziz deadpans, not even blinking. “Why are we here?”

“I called this emergency meeting to talk about…about the VKs,” Chad says slowly, and Ben blinks dully at him, not quite understanding.

“I thought you didn’t…,” he begins, then stops and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter either way. Guys, my dad is….”

“Hang on,” Chad cuts across him. “It does matter, but I wanted to meet because I just--”

“My dad is sending the VKs back to the Isle.”

That seems to get a suitable reaction. Jane jerks sharply with a gasp, her eyes widening; Lonnie grimaces knowingly and shakes her head; while Aziz stiffens on the sofa, Nikki’s arm tightening just a little further around him. Doug is quiet, but he looks vaguely troubled by the idea. Chad gapes a moment, just as stunned, before shaking his head slowly.

“No,” he murmurs quietly, his jaw sharp as he grits his teeth. “Wait…no, he can’t do that.”

Ben is surprised by the denial in Chad’s voice, and he tries to meet Audrey’s eyes for some kind of explanation, but she, too, is focused on the other boy.

“I…there’s not really anything to say, Chad,” Ben says softly, his own denial and sadness darkening his tone and lowering his voice. “My dad’s made his decision, and there’s no turning him from that.”

“Well we have to make him turn,” Chad snaps jerkily, before lifting his eyes quickly, his expression instantly softening into something more subdued. “Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, closing his eyes and hissing between his teeth. “Fuck this is…hard.”

“They can’t go back to the Isle,” Jane cuts in, eyeing Chad cautiously before focusing intently on Ben. “They just got here…it hasn’t even been a week and…and what about giving them a chance?”

“You’re not saying anything different than what I want, guys,” Ben offers weakly, sinking further into his chair. “I don’t know how I’m going to make him see that.”

“Well you’re going to have to make him see,” Lonnie says sternly, leaning forward in her seat to glare at him. “I mean, who knows what we’d be sending them back to?”

Chad raises his hand slowly, his lips twitching in bitter mockery of a smile. “I have an idea,” he drawls, his voice tight. “It’s not a good idea.”

“Anything is better than nothing,” Doug tries, but Ben has a horrible suspicion that that’s not what Chad meant.

“I ran into Carlos in the hall on the way here,” Chad says, his eyes flickering briefly towards Aziz and back again. “Originally, I was going to yell at him for what happened in the garden, and I did, a bit. But then I realized everything about de Vil was just…too familiar.”

Ben furrows his brow, and this time when he turns his head he does catch Audrey’s eye, though she seems just as unsure as he did.

“Something else happened in the garden?” Ben presses carefully, but even as he asks, it suddenly comes back to him; remembering seeing Aziz and Nikki storming away looking upset….

“Thanks for bringing it up again Chad,” Aziz growls sarcastically, his frown more an aggressive pout. “I was trying to suppress that and pretend it never existed, but so much for that.”

Nikki flicks his boyfriend’s ear in disapproval, and Aziz winces before scooting a little ways down the couch and out of range.

“What happened?” Ben asks wearily, too drained and tired of the roundabout conversation.

“Turns out the VKs don’t like same-sex relationships, or the people who engage in those relationships,” Chad explains quickly. “Some things were said. We’ll leave it at that.”

Aziz gives a brief, grateful nod, but he’s still far too sullen, though Ben doesn’t quite blame his attitude now.

“Oh,” he says quietly, disconcerted. He would never have guessed that….

“Yeah,” Chad says briefly. “Anyway, point is I ran into Carlos and I noticed…there were some things that reminded me of…of my mom.”

Oh. Ben straightens, and fixes his friend with a concerned look. He tries to find the right words, and though his heart feels for the obvious pain Chad is in, his head and stomach revolt at the implications.

“It was just...too surreal.” Chad shakes his head, but it’s far from amazement. “And I don’t think we should do anything until we get to the bottom of what things are like over there. Really like, not just what they tell us in history class.”

“Agreed,” Lonnie says instantly, straightening in her chair, though Ben notices a certain edge to her posture that he doesn’t want to think into.

Aziz and Nikki are both silent, but they nod when Ben glances their way, troubled expressions on their faces.

“If we can present proof,” Doug says carefully. “Definite proof that sending the VKs back to the Isle would be more dangerous than keeping them here, and convince the counsel of the facts, then there is a chance.”

“The council?” Ben repeats, suddenly nervous.

He’d always hated going before the council for anything. They made him feel like he was just a little kid playing at being a wise, grown ruler. It wasn’t even anything they said, really; just his own doubts. But he’d had a hard enough time convincing them to support his decree, and now, the thought of trying to convince them of something as delicate and volatile as this…suffice to say Ben wasn’t fond of the idea.

“Yes, Ben,” Doug confirms patiently. “If there’s going to be any hope, we need to convince the council. Sure your dad’s the King and his word is law, but even the council gets a say in his decrees. It’s part of what makes Auradon the United Kingdoms and not just the typical medieval tyranny scenario.”

“Ok, but how exactly did you guys plan on figuring this out the first time?” Chad asks, and though his voice tries to convey sarcasm, Ben can hear the undercurrent of emotion. “I mean, what…were you just going to go up to them and ask?”

“It was…something along those lines,” Ben admits ruefully, though when Chad fixes him with a look he realizes just how terrible the idea would have been.

“Right,” Chad says, and his voice is even more tightly clipped and sarcastic. “I can guarantee you that if it’s anything like what I’m thinking then the whole ‘tell me how terrible your life is’ approach really isn’t going to fly.”

Ben winces, and feels a horrible pang of déjà vu as he recalls the last time they’d broached this subject with Chad. It wasn’t something he wanted to repeat.

“Well how would you suggest going about it, then?” Doug fires back, when Ben remains silent. “Because right now we don’t have a lot of time to be delicate.”

“Whatever we decide, we need to do it now,” Chad declares, though Ben can feel his hesitation.

Audrey is too quiet, her lips pressed tightly with worry and her eyes flickering with conflict. Ben reaches over and threads his fingers through hers, and she starts slightly, looking up at him with surprise.

“You ok?” he murmurs, though he’s aware that with their current location everyone can hear. “You’re really quiet.”

She blinks, and it’s almost like she’s just realizing that she was part of a conversation. She nods at him, but Ben can see the reluctance in her eyes, and he squeezes her hand a little tighter.

“Audrey?” he presses gently, and he watches as she makes a decision, sitting up straighter in her chair and gazing resolutely around at all of them.

“I think we should be careful,” she says, and the severity with which she says this catches Ben off guard. “I know that terrible things have happened, and probably will keep happening, but I don’t think we can afford to rush into this.”

“I…Audrey…” Ben tries to protest, but she presses her lips tighter together and he tapers off weakly.

“I know you always want to see the best of people and of the situation,” she says without quite looking at him. “But the VKs have already proved that they can be dangerous, and as much as I want to believe that Auradon is the best place for them, I think we need to be really, really careful with how we handle this.”

On the sofa, Aziz and Nikki wear pensive expressions, though Ben notices that Doug, Lonnie and even Jane seem to be seriously considering Audrey’s words. It shocks and terrifies him, remembering his dad’s own furious statements and wondering if this is really where things were going to end.

“That being said,” Audrey continues suddenly, and Ben feels her fingers twitch tighter around his. “I think if there really is something more going on that we can’t see, the best approach is to go at it from different sides.”

“Jane and I can keep doing research here,” Doug offers. “She’s had some more personal experience with Carlos, and we can bounce ideas off of what we find.”

“I’ll take Mal,” Lonnie says instantly, her tone willing, but also brokering no arguments.

“Are you sure?” Ben tries anyway, suddenly feeling out of control of everything. “My dad said…”

Lonnie scoffs sharply, her eyes sparking intently. “Please,” she says dismissively, and crosses her arms in a gesture that reminds Ben strangely of Jay.

“Ok,” he says slowly, dragging the word out to more than its two syllables. “Aziz? Nikki?”

“I think, for the time being, it’s best we stay out of this,” Nikki says delicately, each word carefully pronounced.

“Too hard to be impartial or in any way unattached,” Aziz finishes, slightly less delicately, though Ben does note the flicker of regret that flashes across the other boy’s face before disappearing.

“I guess that just leaves…I’ll go talk with the rest of the VKs and see what I can find out,” Ben decides, though he feels decidedly less sure than the others felt.

“I’m coming too,” Chad says quickly, and so intensely that it takes Ben a moment to register the words apart from the emotion.

He’s distracted by Lonnie, who snorts and mutters something under her breath. Judging by the sharp disapproving look Doug shoots her, Ben can pretty much guess as to what was said. He focuses on Chad, who was halfway out of his chair and still fixing Ben with a focused look.

“You want to come with me, to talk to the VKs,” Ben repeats slowly, just to be sure. “You. And the VKs.”

“Are we going or not?” Chad snaps impatiently, and Ben stands from his seat as well, skeptical but also vaguely relieved that someone else was going to do this with him. Even if that someone else was Chad.

“Audrey?” Chad says, and Ben instantly turns to her, horrified at himself. How could he have forgotten…? Why was Chad the one who…?

“I’m…,” she stops short of saying ‘fine’ or ‘ok,’ and the knowing look that passes between her and Chad fills Ben with a horrible, twisting feeling in his stomach.

“I’m going to see if I can talk to my parents,” Audrey finishes, and before Ben can adequately begin to compose a proper response to that particular Pandora’s box, Chad had already whispered luck and Audrey was already on her way to the door.

“Yeah,” Ben murmurs dazedly. “Ok.”

“We’ll meet everyone back here before dinner then,” Chad is saying, though Ben barely hears. He’s still trying to determine what the twisting, sinking feeling is in his gut, and whether or not he should be concerned. It isn’t until they’re halfway to the dorms that Ben figures it out.

It’s jealousy.

Chad 

Finding de Vil hadn’t been hard. Threatening him hadn’t been hard either, especially when the freak had thrown a fit about his shirt. Pulling back his fist hadn’t been hard, it’d been effortless, the anger in his head translating through the anger in his body. The reaction from de Vil was instant; he grew small, his eyes closing as his arms came up to hug his body. A tactic Chad recognized as an attempt to protect his stomach. It wouldn’t matter. The freak was going to get what was coming to him and that was that, no matter what he said.

Except he didn’t say anything, which made it…difficult. Difficult for Chad to hang onto his anger as all the stress and worry and concern began to wear at him. Difficult, because as Chad steeled himself to swing his fist forward, readying his other hand to grab the other boy and keep him in place, the boy was pressing himself backwards against the metal lockers, his shoulders coming up defensively.

And suddenly it wasn’t de Vil on front of him. It was his mother. With that same wavering expression on her face. The same hunched shoulders. The same tightly shut eyes; the head ducked and waiting….waiting….waiting….

Chad clenched his jaw against the sick feeling in his stomach, the gasp that wanted to escape. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true, just a coincidence. The freak was probably beaten up all the time on the Isle, and really, it wasn’t any surprise. But something in the slump of the smaller boy’s body made Chad pause. It wasn’t tense, like someone who would fight back against a peer. It was a weak gesture, a submissive one that spoke of defeat, of accepting pain from someone you knew was higher above you. Someone you couldn’t…wouldn’t dare to…fight back against.

It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true. But Chad had seen that same submissive slump before. Knew what came with it, and he forced his hands back by his sides and wiped his face of any expression.

t wasn’t true. Couldn’t be. Chad waited a moment, and watched as de Vil slowly drew his head up between his arms. Only a little, only so Chad could see the cautious glint in his dark eyes. It wasn’t quite fear, he noticed morbidly. Just caution; wary and anxious.

It wasn’t true, but he had to know. If it wasn’t just a matter of de Vil being kicked around by other villains’ kids. If it was closer than that. Chad shifted his weight, bracing his hands at his sides as though for balance, and deliberately drew his right leg back, twisting his body slightly as he did so.

The fear flashed across de Vil’s face then, blowing his eyes wide as a half-stuttered curse slipped past his lips. And it was instinct, Chad could tell. Chad knew. Instinct that drove Carlos back into the lockers in a desperate scramble for safety. Instinct that made the submissive slump in his spine that much more weak and vulnerable.

Chad waits barely a breath before dropping his leg and moving forward, his heart thudding in his chest as his stomach clenched painfully. He reached out and placed his hand on Carlos’ shoulder again, grabbing at his collar like he was going to slam the other boy against the metal lockers.

“Ssorry.” Carlos whimpered, his body tucking tighter against itself. “I’m-m ssory…”

I’m sorry. Let me fix it. Please, I’m sorry!

“Fucking son of a bitch,” Chad hissed sharply, his hand faltering at Carlos’ shoulder. “I can’t do this.”

It’s true. He can’t do this. He knows. It was true. He forced himself to back away slowly, intentionally angling his body away and into a less threatening pose. He hears Carlos splutter slightly, confusion and fading terror making his baffled ‘What?’ that much shakier.

“Just….” Give me a minute, Chad wanted to say. He needed time to process this, but there was no time and there had been a point to this confrontation. “Fuck it, just…follow me.”

And he knew his voice wasn’t sharp enough, wasn’t cruel enough to make sense or be obeyed but that was to be expected right?

“F-f-follow you?” Carlos repeated, and Chad bit back his wavering emotions and forced a sneer onto his face.

“Yes, follow me. What, did I stutter?” He had to fight against the guilt his insult pulled up, but it made Carlos angry at least, and the other boy straightened, effectively losing the last bit of that horrible submissiveness.

“Ass-hole,” Carlos mumbled, and Chad grit his jaw, turning his grimace into a sharper sneer. He was an asshole, he reminded himself. But he was an asshole with a purpose, and a traumatized mother, and a hurting friend/roommate that was owed an apology before anything else.

But it was hard. Hard to ignore the nagging familiarity, that sense of vulnerability that seemed to hug the shoulders of the boy beside him; even as he struggled and protested against Chad’s grip. It was hard to ignore that, but Chad managed well enough.

At least until they reached the door to room number 40, and he extended his hand to tap Carlos’ shoulder. The boy flinched sharply, like Chad’s tap had been a hit, and suddenly it was that much harder to maintain the façade.

“Right here,” Chad managed tightly, pressing his lips together as he knocked on the door. He heard a muffled hum of assent from the other side and shoved the door open, pulling Carlos in after him and shutting the door again before it was too late.

Aziz sat on the bed, one leg tucked under him while the other hung down, idly tapping against Nikhil’s side. The other boy was on the floor, his arms wrapped around his guitar, and picking out a song that Chad only vaguely recognized. As Chad entered the room, Aziz nudged his boyfriend’s side again, causing the other boy’s fingers to slip on the strings, the guitar emitting a sharp *twang* in response.

Nikhil made a fond yet exasperated noise and glanced up, and that was when he saw Carlos.
His body tensed, his arms shifting to slide the guitar onto the floor beside him. His movement drew Aziz’s attention, and the other boy sucked his breath in sharply, leaping to his feet and scowling furiously.

“Oh fuck no!” He snapped, and Chad groaned inwardly.

Damn it. He should have known this would be a bad idea the second he’d made his connection in the hallway. But it was too late to turn back now, as Carlos stiffened defensively and pressed himself against the door behind Chad, both Aziz and Nikki now on their feet and barely a breath away from exploding.

“No, stop.” Chad said firmly, and though even he didn’t know who he was addressing, everyone paused in their tracks. “Guys,” he said slowly to Aziz and Nikki, frowning sharply in warning. “Just hang on a second.”

“What is he doing here?” Nikki said, his chin lifting sharply to indicate Carlos, who was still stiff and unyielding by the door.

“He’s here to listen, and apologize,” Chad said, still with that warning in his voice. His words made Carlos flinch (he could feel it in the sharp shift of movement behind him) and Aziz shake his head.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” he said, and though his hostility was expected, it still threw a further wrench in Chad’s plan.

“We appreciate what you’re trying to do Chad,” Nikki said evenly.

“No we don’t,” Aziz broke in in an undertone, shooting Chad a dark look.

“But I think it’s best if he leaves. No offense,” Nikki finished, adding the last two words with a wince in Carlos’ direction.

“T-taken,” Carlos shot back, but he said it as part of his retreat, his hand already turning the knob of the door.

“Nope,” Chad growled through his teeth, tugging Carlos back and around so he stood between the boy and the door. “You’re staying. This is happening.”

“Chad...”

“Aziz,” Chad fired back, and the other boy blinked.

“…Carlos…,” Chad said, and if it was strange for him to actually say the boy’s name aloud, it was stranger for him to hear it, if the slight jerk he gave was any indication. “Sit.”

Chad tugged him a bit closer and in the general direction of the grey bean bag chair. Nikki made a soft, despairing noise of protest, while Aziz clicked his tongue sharply in agitation. Carlos meanwhile, staggered slightly in shock and stared at Chad with something that was like bewilderment, and Chad turned his own despairing groan into a growl.

“Sit down, de Vil,” he said sharply, and Carlos blinked before sitting cautiously.

Despite his care, the boy still almost fell off of the bean bag, and the absolutely stunned look on his face would have been hilarious and even adorable if it weren’t for the fragile atmosphere. A fraction of Nikki’s hostility went out of his face at Carlos’ blunder, but Aziz remained impassive, crossing his arms tightly and clenching his jaw. Chad watched with equal parts trepidation and…not exactly pity, but it was heavy and sad all the same- as Carlos warily righted the chair, pushing on it experimentally with his hands. The chair sagged and rolled at his touch, the ‘beans’ inside squishing noisily, and something light and surprised flickered around the edges of the other boy’s mouth; reflecting in his eyes. Chad sighed, bringing his palm up to his face.

“Just sit in it, Carlos,” he said wearily, and the boy looked up, instantly snapped back into the present.

He clenched his jaw and pushed on the chair one more time, as though daring Chad to challenge him about it, then shifted his body around and sat much more uprightly in the chair. Then he glanced over towards Nikki and Aziz, and seemed to realize just how close he was to them. Chad watched the realization crawl across his face, and Carlos bit his lip before carefully scooting the bean bag a few inches back and closer towards the wall.

Aziz threw his hands up and rolled his eyes angrily at Chad. The sudden movement made Carlos stiffen on the grey bean bag, but no one else seemed to catch it but Chad. It just further solidified that comparison; that wrongness, in his mind, as well as strengthen his resolve to bring some kind of resolution to this situation if he could.

“Right,” Chad said, nodding his head in Carlos’ direction. “This is why he is here. He is going to listen; you guys are going to talk, and hopefully by the end of it there’ll be an understanding.”

“It’s not that simple!” Aziz cried, all but collapsing onto the edge of the bed, at the same moment Carlos bit out:

“There’s m-more to it than thththat!”

“More to it than, what, exactly?” Nikki sat down on the bed beside Aziz, his movements and his words deliberately calm. “More than our lack of ability to properly fuck a woman, as Jay so eloquently put it?”

“Wait,” Chad said, practically choking. “Wait. Wait.” He reached behind him and pulled out his deck chair, sitting in it and closing his eyes a moment, shaking his head. “He said what?”

“Thank. You.” Aziz sniped, lifting his shoulders in an exaggerated ‘see?’ gesture. “I fucking told you…!”

“Tell me why I only dragged him here?” Chad replied, still stunned and more than vaguely sickened as he glanced at Carlos, who had tucked himself into the beanbag chair defensively but was still glaring in Aziz and Nikki’s direction, his face a mask.

“There’s more to it tha-than that,” he repeated firmly, and it took all of Chad’s self-control not to launch himself back into the mindset he’d been in in the hallway.

“What more?” he said instead, and Carlos’ eyes flickered.

“Do you mean the part where Evie rather suggestively said that the right girl would come along eventually, but that in the mean-time it wasn’t really attractive that we were so ‘desperate’?” Nikhil deadpanned, not breaking eye contact with Carlos. “Or the part where Mal told us that we were lucky this was Auradon because if we’d been on the Isle she probably would have killed us both for existing?”

“And by probably, she meant definitely,” Aziz added tightly, in such a tone that Chad didn’t doubt that it had also been a direct quote.

“Right,” he said. “So, I clearly grabbed the wrong person and I’ll be right back,” Chad muttered dazedly, about to abandon ship when Carlos scrambled his way up from the beanbag, his eyes blazing darkly.

“Wh-wh-what about the part wwhere you have to avoid certain shops in the marketplace?” he declared hotly, his hands in shaking fists at his sides. “Because if you don’t then you mmmight not come back? Or-or-or the part where people like you can do wh-whatever they want to people like me because they ‘just can’t help wwho they like’?”

Carlos drew a ragged, shaky breath, and when he blinked Chad saw the emotions he was trying to suppress. Could hear the edge of tears in his voice.

“Or the part where they say that you shouldn’t give the wro-wrong impression…shouldn’t look like tha-tha-that or act like that. Or else it’s just an op-pen inv-v-itation.”

Carlos blinked harder, and his expression slipped, losing its fierce edge and shifting into something pained and vulnerable. He shook his head and glanced in Aziz’s direction. It wasn’t long, but it was enough to make the other boy falter, if only for a second, and for Carlos to lean his weight towards the door. Nikki just blinked, so thrown he couldn’t have spoken if he tried; Chad knew because he felt the same way.

“I’ve hheard it too,” Carlos finally whispered, dropping his eyes and clenching his hands into fists again. “I-i-it’s different on the Isle. No-not like here.”

He shifted his weight again, closer to the door now, but Chad wasn’t about to stop him. Not this time. The boy hesitated at the door, however, his hands opening and closing rapidly before he lifted his head, darting another glance towards the two boys on the bed.

“I’m nnnot sorry. I can’t be”

And then he was gone, leaving behind two shaken and shattered figures, and a third who wondered just what the fuck he was supposed to do about this now.

Carlos

One time, when he was about two years old, Cruella had argued with the dark-haired man that always came to visit them. He couldn’t remember all of it; he’d been too busy hiding under the stained mattress, terrified of his mother’s wrath. But he remembered it had been about him, somehow, and that after the man had left, Cruella had dragged him out from under the mattress and said that the two of them were going for a drive. The ‘drive’ had turned out to involve the closed in shed that counted as the garage; the running car with Cruella and Carlos firmly secured inside; and, as far as Carlos could remember, about an hour and forty-five minutes.

More specifically, it had only been an hour and forty-five minutes that Carlos was aware of. He’d cried himself sick after twenty minutes, and after about another thirty his body had started to shut down on him. The only thing he could remember vividly about the event was an image of Cruella, strapped into the front seat, holding the stuffed Dalmatian to her chest and crooning lullabies.

When he was four (because of course, they had survived that, somehow) Cruella had decided in a sudden fit of rage that she hated Carlos’ freckles and that they had to come off. The only suitable option for this had been to throw him in the giant wooden tumbler used to clean her fur coats, because ‘if it can clean my beautiful furs it can certainly clean the puppy’s spots.’ It hadn’t.

The last (read: most recent) time she’d tried to kill him, he’d been about seven, and sometimes Carlos liked to be generous and say that it had been an accident.

Now, the only thing going through Carlos’ head was how creative would Cruella be this time coming up with a new way to kill him. The nightmares of being locked in the fur closet again drown out everything else in the room; half-colored in sketches of blood and pain and bitter, ashy cigarettes that burned patterns into his skin. No one was going to know where she buried his body…would she even bury him? Oh Hades, she was definitely going to turn him into a coat!

Carlos’ stomach heaves as he remembers all those times she tried to force him to skin something for her on the Isle. His mind conjures up the only just-forgotten memories and before he’s even fully aware of his body’s actions he’s vomiting up the pastry he’d had from Jay’s food stash that morning.

“Breathe, Carlos, that’s it,” a voice says suddenly from right above him. He tries to flinch away but there’s no directions, nothing existing he doesn’t exist anymore. Is he already dead? He must be…this is what Cruella always promised him death felt like.

“Just breathe Carlos,” the voice says again, and he’s acutely aware of pressure on his back. He chokes, suppressing another heave and desperately throwing himself backwards and away from the violating presence.

“…going to be ok…”

“…not…hurt you….”

“’Los?”

“Carlos!”

He grits his jaw around his tongue and bites down as hard as he can. Then, when his body cringes back in instinctive protest, bites down harder until he tastes copper. It almost makes him want to throw up again, but he shuts his eyes tight against the world and buries his head in his arms, grinding his teeth together in a desperate attempt to stay grounded. If he could just focus on this pain…ignore the fact that he couldn’t breathe and just…stay focused….

“Carlos, please.”

Evie’s voice, he realizes sluggishly. Evie’s hands that were reaching through the dark for him. He gags on his next breath, his body refusing to let the air reach his lungs and he heaves violently, sobbing in desperate attempts to stay alive.

“It’s going to be ok,” Evie murmurs, her hands retreating, her voice seeming to echo from down a long cavern. “We’re going to be ok, Carlos. All of us. No one is going to hurt you.”

“Sshe’s go-go-go-go-going to kill mmme,” Carlos coughs out, the air suddenly hitting his lungs in a sharp and violent spasm of breath. “She’s going to k-ill me.”

“She’ll have to go through us first,” Evie promises fiercely, and Carlos shakes his head hard even though he knows in the back of his mind that she won’t see it.

“Sshe wi-will,” he declares, just as fierce, if not muted.

“She’ll go ttthhrough and then she-she-she….”

“Carlos, listen to me.”

Evie’s voice is instantly captivating, that kind of intensity that forces your attention. Despite the blood and tears that fill Carlos’ mouth and threaten to drown him again, despite the panic, he finds himself stifling his heaving breaths and focusing on Evie.

“Cruella is not going to get her hands on you.” She says it like it’s fact, like she’s already made sure of it and is simply telling him so he knows. “She is not going to kill you. She won’t even look at you if you don’t want her to. We’ll make sure of it.”

His mouth is still full of blood and his body is cramping from folding in on itself, but his lungs aren’t malfunctioning and Carlos finds himself slowly inching forward. Evie’s eyes light with relief, and her fingers are gentle as they comb through his hair before suddenly seizing on a white lock and tugging.

“Ow!” Carlos whimpers, ducking out of her reach and grimacing at the suddenly stern glare she fixes at him.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” she says sharply, before melting and pulling him into what’s as close to a hug as they get on the Isle. “Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up and then we can strategize. Jay’s come up with an idea to maximize our rations and scavenging system so by the time we get back, we’ll have enough Auradon treats to last us a month.”

He feels his lips tugging back into a weak attempt at a smile, but he’s sure the effect is ruined somewhat by the blood still staining his mouth. It’s starting to wear at him again, and he sprints into the bathroom before Evie can say anything else, bending blindly over the sink and spitting sharply until he can’t taste it anymore. Then he fumbles for the faucet, eyes still clenched tightly shut. His hands cup the water and he rinses out his mouth, wincing as the water hits his cut tongue.

Only once his mouth is clear can he fully breathe again, and Carlos opens his eyes, watching as the water runs diluted pink down the drain. He blinks at himself in the mirror, not quite recognizing the figure he saw. His hair was still the same, sort of; it seemed almost darker at the roots than it had been before, the white blonde fade more noticeable. He wasn’t as pale (panic attack not withstanding). He could actually suck his cheeks in to make them go hollow now, instead of the painful, normal hollow he’d been used to.

He didn’t want to go back to the Isle. Not just because his mother was there. He had really started to like it in Auradon…even if it had only been seven days. He liked how clean everything was, and how bright. Mal might claim to hate all of the colors, but he had caught her staring in awe at everything when they’d first arrived too. Carlos had felt like he could maybe be…happy. For once. To have it all snatched away again…to be sent back to that darkness and pain after experiencing a life that was worth something…that was true evil.

He grimaced, baring his teeth and twisting his face into his fiercest mask. But his eyes weren’t dark and cold anymore. Despite the vicious snarl, they sparked brightly with an energy that they had never possessed back on the Isle. He dropped his mask, staring pensively into the eyes of the looking-glass Carlos. Slowly, he loosened his jaw, relaxing the muscles in his face and forcing his brow to stop furrowing. This was better, he mused, but still not quite right. His eyes were too full of…life, for neutral. He almost didn’t want to, but he forced his muscles to comply, shifting and contorting his cheeks and lips until they pulled upwards into what could be taken for a smile.

It fit much better with the fullness in his eyes, if only marginally so. Carlos thought about Jane, laughing at all his faces but still able to see him beneath them all. Her promise that he would fit in here at Auradon, that there was something good that he could do with his skills. His memories caused his heart to lift further, his eyes brightening. This time when he smiled, it fit almost perfectly.

As he left the bathroom, Carlos silently promised that no matter what happened, he wouldn’t let himself forget how to do that.

Evie 

Evie eyed the tear in the collar of Carlos’ shirt with a practiced wariness. The boy in question sat beside her, attempting to shrink into the cushions on the bed. If it weren’t for the fact that he was still clearly shaken about going back to the Isle, or the strange, half-dazed look he’d had on his face when he’d finally exited the bathroom, Evie probably would have torn his head off for daring to ruin the fabric. As it was, she simply sighed sharply and clicked her tongue, frowning as she ran her fingers along the edges to feel for a seam

“How did you even manage this?” She asks the tuft of white hair, which shivers before disappearing further into the cushions.

“Can it be fi-fixed?” The bed sheets ask her, and Evie sighs again, shaking her head.

“Well, I can fix it, of course,” she says haughtily, pinching the tear between her fingers in one hand, while rummaging for some pins in her sewing bag with the other. “I just can’t believe you weren’t more careful.”

“Nnot my fault.” The pillow mumbles mournfully, and Evie scoffs before hissing in pain, withdrawing her hand from her sewing bag and shaking it out with a wince.

“You-you-you-you ok?” The mattress dips as Carlos shuffles himself to peek up at her, and Evie nods, rolling her eyes at his concern.

“Just pricked my finger,” she replies with faux-cheer. “A couple more pricks and maybe a Prince will show up and save me from the Isle. And by me…I mean us, duh.”

She laughs quickly, but the dull throb in her finger from the needle is still there, and she clenches her fingers into a fist, trying to ignore the heavy throb that echoes in her chest; the dull, phantom stinging in her arms that builds with the throbbing in her heart, the longing ache for something more. She tries to shove those thoughts aside, but the ache is still there, and she purses her lips, pressing the edge of her nail into the imprint left by the needle. The slight increase in dull, throbbing pain is marginally better, but not enough to make that hollow feeling go away entirely, and she’s just started a sickening debate with herself about whether she could really afford to…

“E?” Jay’s voice snaps her back to reality, and she looks up to find him staring at her closely, a heavy, knowing look on his face. It annoys her instantly, and she shoves the sewing bag away, folding Carlos’ shirt into a delicate square.

“I’m fine, Jay,” she glares at him pointedly, ignoring the tiny part of her that knew she was far from it. “It’s just a pinprick; not like a spinning wheel or something.”

“Would you prefer a spinning wheel?” Jay counters slowly, and Evie is very much aware of the sudden shift of subtext; knows exactly what he’s trying to do.

“No,” she says, enunciating the word as firmly as she can with just one syllable.

He eyes her warily, and Evie feels her face twist into a scowl in spite of the crease it causes between her eyebrows. She’s just about to let him know just what she thinks of his hyper-sensitive concern when footsteps sound outside their door, followed immediately by a hesitant knock.

Carlos shoots up from the bed, the pillows and blankets sprawling awkwardly onto the floor. “Sssomeone’s at the d-door,” he says, his eyes wide.

“Thank you Carlos,” Evie snaps tightly. “We couldn’t tell from the obvious knocking.”

She regrets her tone instantly, as Carlos shrinks away from her with the crestfallen look of a kicked dog. The comparison is a little on the nose, but she feels bad about it all the same.

“I didn’t mean…” she begins, but Jay is already at the door, one hand on the knob and the other extended to keep Carlos in place beside him.

“What do you want Ben?” Jay all but snarls, and Evie lifts an eyebrow at him in surprise.

“How…how’d you know it was me?” Ben’s voice comes uncertainly through the door, and Jay snorts, turning the handle.

“Well it was either you or….” His words fall short as the door opens fully, and Carlos yelps and darts back towards the bed, while Evie stands quickly.

“What. Is. He. Doing. Here.” Jay says, pronouncing each word in dangerously clear syllables.

Chad Charming stands between Ben and the open doorway, and though he had borne an expression of vague disinterest, it morphs into something tight and heavy when his eyes meet Carlos.’ The emotion; whatever it was, quickly dissolves into disgust, and Evie finds her head spinning from trying to keep up with the sudden shift.

“Don’t ask me,” the blond boy drawls with a sneer. “Ben’s the one who decided he wanted back up.”

Something is happening with this conversation, Evie pointedly tells her brain, a small thrill going through her. Something is happening with this conversation and it’s important and no one is going to say what they truly mean and we need to analyze and pick apart everything. She takes a small step closer to Jay, steadying Carlos with a look before turning back to Ben.

“You might as well come in,” she says, bringing up all that heavy aching and longing into her voice and pushing it out into the air. “We were just packing.”

Success. Ben flinches, his face twisting with a grimace. Chad makes a tight lipped scoffing sound and strolls easily through the door, completely ignoring the death threats Jay was sending his way.

“I can’t say Auradon won’t be improved with you no longer causing chaos, de Vil,” he drawls, and if Evie is surprised at the focused way he seems to be addressing Carlos specifically, she doesn’t show it.

Instead she picks apart Chad’s words, and thinks hard about the soft little skip the other boy’s voice had done when he had said ‘de Vil.’ Like he was going to call Carlos something else, but had decided on that at the last possible second where thought becomes speech. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said it sounded like regret. But this was Chad, and she did know better, so she dismissed it.

“At least do us all a favor,” Jay growls to Ben, while still glaring murderously at Chad. “And don’t start saying things like ‘sorry’ and shit.”

Ben looks so stunned and lost, Evie almost feels bad about it. She finds herself instead regretting her interest in him. Not that it wasn’t still there, of course; but in this moment at least, he’s so child-like in his hurt that it’s hard to take him seriously. He fidgets with his hands, twisting something-a ring, she assumes- on his finger, and looks around at them all with miserable eyes.

“Listen, guys,” he begins, and Jay groans in disgust, shoving roughly past Chad and snatching up a stray vest from the floor. “I know that my Dad said, but I just want you to know that I don’t think of you that way, and that there is still a place in Auradon for you.”

“That’s up for debate,” Chad mutters, folding his arms and backing himself against the door frame and out of Jay’s reach.

Evie wouldn’t have thought much of the comment, except Ben instantly shoots the other boy a frustrated look, and she starts reading into his tone more. It was snarky, but not quite mean-spirited. More like he was stating an unpleasant fact, and Ben’s look seemed to at least confirm that there was something more to this visit than a simple ‘make the VKs feel better.’ That was obvious enough, given Chad’s presence, but just why was he here? And why did he keep looking at Carlos?

“Ben,” Evie decides, cutting across Jay’s furious move towards the other blond prince. “We appreciate your coming to try and make things better, and always helping us out. But as you said, the King made a decree, and we’re technically still his people…so we have no choice but to….”

“But that’s just it!” Ben bursts out, startling her. It seems to startle Chad, too, as the other boy blinks, and in that moment, Evie can see something genuine underneath. But as Ben continues to speak, it’s lost again beneath indifference. “You guys are still his people, and he’s already failed you once. It’s not going to happen again, and we do have a say in this.”

“We do?” Jay challenges, though Evie can hear the undercurrent of doubt in his voice that means he’s actually hopeful.

Carlos shifts a little closer to her, and though he’s still silent, Evie knows he’s hanging on every word.

“My father is the King, but we have a Council for a reason,” Ben explains, and he’s lost some of that pitiful child-ness about him. “His decree will still have to pass through them, along with any evidence stating why it’s better for you in Auradon.”

Evie pauses, her thoughts flying rapidly. She knows exactly what he’s getting at, and suddenly she’s not sure if this is a good idea. She glances to Carlos, to see that he’s edged just a bit closer, almost level with her now, and that the open hope on his face is not something she wants to see go away. Even Jay has lost his harsh edge and is more in neutral skepticism territory. Neither of them had heard what she had, which was the part where Ben said ‘present evidence.’

“And just how,” Evie says slowly, trying to convey the gravity to her boys while remaining diplomatic for Ben’s sake. “Is being in Auradon better? What evidence would you have us show this council?” A thought hits her, and she loses some of her solemnity in the realization. “Who is the council composed of?”

“My parents, for one,” Chad puts in from the door. “Pretty much every one of your parents’ hero counterparts, along with you know, the King and Queen.”

“Thank you. Chad.” Ben’s face is pinched, and Chad’s lips quirk with a smile that seems too ironic to be genuine.

“Always happy to help.”

“So we’re fucked either way,” Jay says, understanding at least that much. Carlos seems to sink beside her, though when Evie spares him a glance she’s surprised to see that he looks more thoughtful than crushed.

“You’re not…screwed,” Ben says, hesitating over the word but saying it all the same. Jay snorts, but Evie silences him with a glare. “Guys, this is really serious. I know it seems….”

“Oh no,” Jay cuts hims off, feigning shock. “Wait, this is really serious? I wouldn’t have even guessed since it’s our lives at stake here. Wow.”

“Jay,” Evie barks, and the other boy shoots her a dirty look of his own, but falls silent again.

Ben blinks a moment, and Evie waits for him to catch up and yell at Jay for his attitude. But instead, when he makes the connection, it’s to something else entirely.

“Your lives?”

“Shit,” Jay mutters under his breath. Evie sighs and rolls her eyes upwards, though nothing from there had ever helped any of them before.

“Contrary to what you might believe,” she says heavily. “It’s a lot harder over there than just not having enough food.”

“Can’t be that hard,” Chad says in an undertone. “I mean, you’re all here, aren’t you?”

If it had been said with just a touch more sarcasm, Evie would have almost taken offence. As it was, Chad’s voice was too low, and his eyes too intent with something like concern for her to manage more than simple irritation.

“You ha-ha-ha-have no id…ea,” Carlos whispers, speaking up for the first time.

Jay glowers at Chad, before straightening suddenly, his expression and voice carefully composed. “Let’s play a game,” he says decisively, his words directed at Ben though he continued to glare at Chad. “What’s the worst thing you can possibly think of? No, better yet…what’s the worst thing that you’re ever done or had done to you?”

Evie resigns herself to the fact that she’s lost this conversation, and silently curses Jay the missed opportunity. Ben doesn’t seem to understand, his expression slack with confusion, but Chad swallows, lifting a careful brow and leaning his weight forward.

“Ever as in…at any point in our lives? And it is ‘our’ lives, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jay’s confirmation was like a slap, and Chad nods once before puckering his lips in exaggerated thought.

“I guess….I guess the worst thing I’ve ever done was when I was about nine or ten,” he murmurs slowly. “And I snuck into the private room where my father kept his crown and royal robes and tried them on to see what it would feel like. I ended up tearing an inch long gash in the robe and losing a gem out of the crown.” His cheeks flickered into a fond, yet bitter grin, though the expression didn’t last long. “I wasn’t allowed to play in the castle unsupervised after that.”

“Really?” Jay says, and the darkness in his voice makes even Evie shiver. “That’s the worst you’ve got? Not, I don’t know…almost killing me and Carlos?”

Chad shrugs a shoulder, though it’s could have been a wince if his expression had been more apologetic. “The villains always die in the end anyway, don’t they?”

“Chad!” Ben cries, horrified, and the other boy’s eyes narrow ever so slightly in a concealed grimace.

Eve bites her lip when Jay flinches imperceptibly, his hands clenching into shaking fists at his sides. “When I was nine,” he says softly, in deadly calm tones. “I slit the throat of a shopkeeper who tried to cheat me out of a deal.”

Ben makes a choking sound, and Chad loses color, though his jaw remains a firm line.

“You…you killed someone?” Ben croaks weakly, his eyes mystified. “When you were nine?”

“I mean, to be fair, I did try to steal the silverware when he wasn’t looking,” Jay continues with a nonchalant shrug. “That was when he drew a sword, and at that point, I really had no choice.”

“No, of course not,” Ben mutters, but there’s something void in his eyes, like he’s imagining a nine year old Jay covered in someone else’s blood.

“What about you, ‘los?” Jay quips, his eyes glinting darkly.

Carlos makes an unconcerned face; exaggerating his pout as he lifts his brows, before he signs; bringing his left hand up with his palm facing Jay, he touches his ring finger to his thumb. [Seven.]

“Seven?” Jay repeats, pretending to contemplate a moment before turning to face Ben. “Yeah, how about it Ben? What was the worst thing that you did or had happen to you when you were seven?”

Ben shakes his head, his mouth pressed tightly together. Evie wonders if it’s because he’s suddenly realizing the true gravity of this game, or if nothing bad had ever happened to him; if he was truly as perfect of a prince as he appeared. Chad, on the other hand, loses just a bit more color, his lips parting as though to speak. She’s the only who catches it, however, as he grits his jaw just as tightly as Ben.

Jay makes a ‘tch’ sound and shakes his head, turning to Carlos. “Carlos?” he says, but then he mouths so only they can see: “You don’t have to.”

Carlos shakes his head minutely and then signs quickly; holding his hands out with palms up; pulling them back towards himself while bending his hands into claw shapes; then bringing his right hand up with palm facing him and index finger extended; bringing his left index finger; palm down, to touch the tip of his right.

[Want to.]

Despite his assurance, Evie can see Carlos brace himself slightly as he starts to speak. She finds herself tensing as well, waiting for the inevitable slip up.

“W-wh-when I was sseven,” he murmurs shakily. “Crrr…” he cuts himself off with a sharp grimace, glancing over at Evie pleadingly.

She sighs, grimacing herself, but takes over. “When Carlos was seven, Cruella tried to kill him by throwing him in her coat closet. Which, wouldn’t have been such a bad thing if the closet wasn’t four by six feet and covered with bear traps.”

She keeps her voice monotone, her words clipped and blunt. Despite this, Jay’s expression twitches, and Carlos shuffles anxiously, his fingers curling around his dog tail.

“You mmmake it sound wo-worse,” he accuses with a glower, though the effect is minimal as Ben seems to stagger slightly, and even Chad has lost his snarky indifference; both boys pale and disbelieving.

“Worse?” Chad mumbles, and Ben glances briefly to him before looking at Carlos in horror.

“How is what she said not…” He cuts himself off and shakes his head, as though realizing that he doesn’t want to know, but Carlos answers anyway, his brows lifted in earnest.

“N-no,” he says carefully. “No see, that time wasn’t on pur-pu-pur-purpose.”

There’s a stomach clenching moment of silence where neither Ben or Chad seem to remember how to breathe, and Evie knows what it is they’re caught up on. ‘That time.’

“I don’t even know what Mal was doing at seven,” Jay muses aloud, breaking the silence. “E?”

That Evie doesn’t even flinch at being handed this particular timeframe- and for Mal- was a feat of itself, and should be recognized as such. As it is, she play along and pretends to think a moment, before answering in a clipped sort of upbeat tone.

“Probably her usual terrorizing of the villagers,” she guesses with a brief, wry grin. “Slowly laying claim to her domain.”

Never mind the fact that only the year before, Mal’s rivalry towards Evie had resulted in both Evie and her mother being banished to the other side of the Isle.

“I bet the fucking wharf rats are all over our territory now,” Jay scowls, crossing his arms furiously. “If the pirates haven’t gotten to it first.”

“Please,” Evie sighs, grateful for the departure from that thread. She hadn’t held any bitter feelings towards Mal over her banishment for years, but the subject was still a touchy one, for both girls.

“Knowing Uma she probably seized control the second Mal was off the Island.”

“Uh, yeah, not to burst the moment or anything,” Chad cuts in, and some of the sneer is back in his voice. “But what the fu…”

“I can’t believe….” Ben interrupts, his eyes wide and stricken. “I can’t believe my Dad would have allowed any of that to happen intentionally. He wouldn’t have ever said what he did if he knew….”

“Knew what?” Jay snaps, jaw tight with anger. “That an island full of the worst of the worst all crammed together with no escape wouldn’t somehow blow up in everyone’s faces?”

“But that’s just…wrong.” It comes out like a whimper, and Chad gives Ben a quick, pitying sort of look.

“Do you really think the council would listen to this, though?” he says. “Even if we get them to listen, they’re not going to take the word of a bunch of villain’s kids over the King of Auradon.”

“And there’s the pessimism we were missing,” Evie murmurs, though inside, she knows he’s right.

It was a noble idea, but when you were going up against the Isle of the Lost, noble didn’t even make it past the magic barrier.

Ben

They’re barely down the steps to the dorms, and already Ben is questioning everything. Chad hadn’t said a single word since the door closed, but once they’re back in the main lobby of the dorm building, he rushes to nearest wall and punches it hard.

“Chad?” Ben cries, alarmed, as his friend hisses a curse between his teeth, shaking out his hand and glaring fiercely towards nothing in particular.

“Fine, the other boy grumbles, straightening and sucking a sharp breath. “I’m fine. They’re not, and fucking shit Ben did you not hear what I just heard?”

Ben blinks, so caught off guard by Chad’s rapidly shifting emotions that it takes him a moment to realize that the other boy’s frustration is directed at him this time. 

“Yeah Chad,” he finally manages shakily. “Yeah, I did hear, but I don’t…”

“And you’re just standing there?” Chad snaps, whirling on Ben before realizing they were still in a relatively public area, and instantly retreating, losing some of his manic demeanor. “How are you just standing there?”

It’s a far different Chad that Ben is seeing now, compared to how he’d been back in the VKs’ room; back when they’d first arrived, even. Ben narrows his eyes slowly, examining the set of Chad’s jaw, the way he kept moving his feet even standing still.

“I missed something, didn’t I?” Ben says, and Chad rolls his eyes with a quick huff.

“Yes, you did,” he says lowly. “Gods Ben, how could you not…”

“No, I mean you,” Ben clarifies quickly, shifting the two of them into a more secluded section of the lobby. “What was that in there, Chad? Why were you such a…so…?”

Clarification, and maybe a hint of annoyance, crossed Chad’s face then, and he gives Ben a sort of sideways look.

“Why was I such an asshole?” he finishes, and Ben gives the other boy a look of his own. “I mean come on, Ben. You wanted to know what things were like on the Isle, but they weren’t gonna answer to you being…you.”

Ben gapes, vaguely offended, and Chad makes a sharp noise in the back of his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“I mean,” he continues shortly. “You being all sad and sorry, all your pity and concern and ‘oh tell us how horribly abused you were.’” He grimaces sharply and continues. “I mean, you heard Jay--it wasn’t going to work. They wouldn’t tell you what shit they went through like that. But if I’m a dick to them, and play into their disbelief and suspicion, they’ll say whatever they can to shut me up.”
He trails off with a guilty and slightly haunted look, and Ben nods his head slowly, catching on.

“So it was a trick,” he says, not exactly approving, but well. It had gotten them the information they wanted.

Chad shrugs a shoulder and crosses his arms, and Ben shakes his head in amazement at the other boy’s audacity.

“I just don’t get why you wanted to be there in the first place,” he says, mimicking Chad’s pose and crossing his own arms. “I was pretty much convinced you hated the VKs and you’d be celebrating my Dad’s decree.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I can totally see why he thinks what he does,” Chad replies, seeming to tuck a little tighter into his aggressive posture. “But I wasn’t quite done with de Vil and anyway, I wanted to form my own opinions.”

“Done with him?” Ben repeats carefully, suddenly extremely guarded. Chad’s face twitches, his eyes widening minutely before he slowly shrugs his shoulders.

“Ha ha, yeah I uh… may have threatened to beat Carlos into a pulp after um. After what happened with Nikki and Aziz.”

“Chad!” Ben hisses, frowning hard as he glared at the other boy. “Didn’t we talk about this?”

“Yeah, we did,” Chad mutters sarcastically, his eyes suddenly hardening to match Ben’s glare. “But you know, the specifics of my tendency to hit people that piss me off were never fully addressed, and there wasn’t really anything related to homophobes and villains, so….”

“Chad.”

“What?” Chad snaps back, but Ben notices that he looks at least a little sorry. “I didn’t, if that makes you feel any better. Really kind of wish I could, though.”

“Why?” Ben furrows his brows at the other boy. “What did I miss, Chad…why did you really want to see the VKs?”

“Like I said,” Chad says tightly, his arms tightening across his chest. “I was going to beat Carlos for what happened in the gardens. But then I noticed just how similar….” He trails off with a grimace, his eyes flickering.

“Your mom,” Ben finishes, half-guess and half-confirmation that this was real.

“Yeah,” Chad says, his jaw gritting slightly. “So instead of stomping him into the ground I dragged him to see Nikki and Aziz, thinking maybe I could get him to apologize or something, I don’t even know, really.”

Ben feels his face shift without permission, his brows lifting in surprise. “I…um. Oh,” he chokes out carefully. “How did…how did that go?”

“About as well as all of this has been going,” Chad growls, frustration screwing up his face and turning his expression sour. “Found out that things on the Isle are so much more fucked up than they already appear, and that there’s a good chance--” He catches himself, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“Is that where the emergency meeting sprung up from, then?” Ben hazards, the tense reactions from Aziz and Nikki suddenly making much more (if not tragic) sense.

“Pretty much,” Chad replies, sighing and leaning back against a wood-furnished pillar. “What are we gonna do Ben?”

Ben shakes his head, letting out a short sigh of his own. “I don’t know.”

And he really didn’t. That was the worst part. He’d had this whole plan to try and unite the two different sides of Auradon; the two warring sides of the fairytales. But this wasn’t like the stories at all, and he had no clue how he was going to salvage this. If it even could be salvaged.

“The Council’s not gonna to go for any of this,” Chad murmurs, lifting his head to peer at Ben. “You do know that, right? Villains, kids or not…especially the villains from their stories; abuse or not.”

“All of them, do you think?” Ben presses, wondering how Chad knew, why he was so sure. And how Ben was the one looking to Chad for advice, for once.

“Most of them,” Chad says, lifting his eyes to the ceiling in thought. “I mean, you know your Dad’s going to have the most weight so. And my Dad…will probably vote to send them back. My Mom won’t, of course, but her votes don’t do much.”

Ben winces at Chad’s tone, nonchalant despite the practically brutal way he tore all of Ben’s hopes to pieces.

“The Fairy Godmother will vote to keep them here,” Ben tries. “And Aladdin made it pretty clear where he stood at the last meeting.”

“Yeah, but then there’s Phillip and Aurora,” Chad counters easily. “And as much as I…I don’t doubt Audrey or anything, but there’s no guarantee.”

“So basically,” Ben says, trying not to focus on Chad’s sudden dodge at the mention of his girlfriend. “Unless we get some other votes for our side, the VKs are going back to the Isle and will sink right back into what they were before.”

“Basically,” Chad agrees grimly, and Ben grimaces, closing his eyes tightly against the rush of despair in his mind.

“Why do you do that?” he finds himself wondering out loud, and Chad makes a questioning sound before verbalizing.

“Do what?”

“Why do you always destroy the things you don’t like?” Ben says, opening his eyes and fixing Chad with a square look.

Chad meets his eyes, and Ben is startled by the hollow ache he can see reflected in the other boy’s face. “Because I was never allowed to when I was little,” he says. “And now at least, if I break things or break people- it’s my mess to clean up.”

But who’s going to clean up mine? Ben wonders mournfully, as Chad shoves himself away from the pillar (away from him) and heads for the main entrance. And who’s going to stop you this time…what’s to stop you from deciding to break something you can’t fix, just because you can? What do you expect me to do if the thing you actually end up not liking is me?

Ben shakes his head and makes his own way towards the door. He had to find the Fairy Godmother and then, face his parents. His thoughts could wait; his fears and questions could go unanswered. If he failed in this situation that he had created for himself, this first act of his not-yet-reign, then he was no more fit to call himself a king than his father did. Because a true king worked for all of his people, not just the ones he approved of and acknowledged. And that, Ben knew for fact.

Beast 

It starts as something cold and restless in his gut. It twists and writhes; tightens and hardens until it’s unrecognizable. He can feel it before it happens: the hot tingling on the back of his neck and down his spine; his fingers twitching and curling dangerously, and the part of him that was still aware of the shift clings desperately for something to block it (anger is normal but this is not and he needs to control this he is human he is not a beast) but even then, it’s too late.

The anger comes roaring forward, tearing through his body with all the ferocity of an enraged lion. He crosses the room in tight, quick strides, and lashes out at the first thing he can get his hands on. He doesn’t know what it is, only that it makes a satisfying crunch when he flings it at the wall. It’s nowhere near enough, but it clears some of the pounding in his head, and he turns sharply and lashes out again, the surging, screaming fury the only thing that exists.

There’s no need for a transformation here; in his mind, the beast is still there, clawing at the walls, roaring his anguish for all to hear. Letting him out is a one way option, and so the best Adam can hope for is simply this; using his hands to tear apart as much as he can as hard as he can. There are no consequences; only the roaring in his head and the steadily increasing ache in his fingers- in his soul- that means it’s almost run his course.

He almost surrenders to that ache, not wanting to come back to himself, to look and see what destruction he has wrought. But with nothing left to break, the beast slinks back towards its cage, growling traitorously and promising more. His surroundings trickle back into his awareness, and just as suddenly as he feels his heartbeat again, he hears another; high and frantic sounding, like a frightened bird. The beast kicks its heels in suddenly, whirling with a vicious snarl to what it knows on instinct is prey blood more! But Adam is still aware, and his eyes see what the beast did not.

“Belle.”

The name is a hoarse breath of air in the suddenly cold stillness of the room, and Adam casts his eyes around in silent dismay. The room…could have been worse, he supposes, but he still grimaces at the destruction. The soft leather of the conference chairs are ripped and bleeding foam cushion through the fabric. He flinches at the comparison the beast makes; the thoughts of tearing through skin so easily, meat and blood pouring through where his claws had raked. The wood of the chairs themselves is cracked, a few chairs broken and splintered entirely, collapsed onto their sides in the throes of death.

He wrenches himself away from the darkness of his thoughts, and forces his eyes up to meet Belle’s. He doesn’t dare examine her too closely, terrified of what he might see- of what the beast had done to her. But her eyes are cold, her expression closed off despite the fact that he can still hear her heart racing.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” she says, and her tone is harsh and distant. “The dwarves took months to make us those chairs.”

He doesn’t want to find amusement in it, but he clings to fleeting feeling in his chest anyway, if only to further banish the horrors from his mind. He wants to apologize, but he still hasn’t looked at her yet; doesn’t want to know what he’s apologizing for.

“Belle,” he says instead, taking a pleading step forward.

And if he hadn’t wanted to look before, he’s forced to now; her reaction more than answer enough. She tenses and shifts her weight back sharply, a warning springing up into her eyes and flying from the edge of her tongue.

“Don’t.”

He stops instantly, forcing his reaching hands to be still at his sides. He would have stopped breathing, gladly, but she’s talking again, and he thinks it might be rude if he interrupted her by dying.

“I don’t want to hear explanations, Adam,” she says, and he would flinch again at her voice if he weren’t still terrified of moving (of being a threat to her. Again.) “What you’ve done to those children is unacceptable, and nothing you could say will change my mind from that.”

He realizes, with a paralyzing surge of relief (and no small amount of irritation) that she is referring to the villain children. He sighs, but his lingering anger makes it a heavier and harsher sound than it needs to be.

“What would you have me do then, Belle?” he demands lowly. “Simply allow the very villain who attacked me to remain loose in Auradon with no consequence?”

Her lips purse, her eyes narrowing. He can hear her heartbeat level out in the brief moment of contemplation, and the relief surges a little stronger until she speaks again.

“I think you’re exaggerating a bit, Adam,” she says, and though he can see the way her cheeks twitch, her tone is entirely mirthless.

“How am I exaggerating…?”

“You know how you are when you’re angry.”

She cuts across his impassioned demand with little ceremony, and no room for argument. Not that he could have, with the way the air suddenly leaves his lungs. His eyes finally finally catch on to what he had resolutely been refusing to let them see- Belle is shaking, an unmistakable tinge of bright red forming around her wrists. His wife is bruised and shaking and it’s because of him.

(And anger is normal but this is not and he needs to stop doing this he needs to stop doing this now he is human he is not a beast).

[Unaddressed letter to Mr. Oscar Ville, Isle of the Lost]

Dear Carlos,

Is the ‘dear’ a bit weird? It might be. A bit.

This is just a letter to…say that I’m sorry.

I know you probably don’t even know who I am or why I’m apologizing, but it stands.

I’m sorry.

Chapter Text

Audrey 

There are many places within and outside the states of Auradon that one could find Audrey on any given day. If she wasn’t at the school, then she typically journeyed to Auradon City for an impromptu (and usually much needed and well deserved) shopping trip. Spring Break usually found her, along with most of their friends, traveling with Chad back home to Charmington to make sure he stayed relatively sane while facing the usual chaos and fuss that tended to be kicked up around that time (and of course, vehemently denying that that was why they came it was just that Cinderellasburg was so much prettier than Auradon in the Spring!) Then Summer Break, which found her with Ben and his family and vacationing in the Summerlands. (She swears the location must have been Ben’s idea, and chosen purely for the irony of the name as the Summerlands were mostly forest and it was impossible to find a good resort within a fifty mile radius.) Back to Auradon and the Academy in the fall, and when winter started, up north a bit to Camelot for a quick visit with her Aunts before journeying back down for Christmas with Ben in Auradon.

The routine had mostly petered out a bit as time wore on (less trips with Chad as he resolutely shoved everyone away when it became apparent that things with his mother weren’t going away); and less frequent trips to Camelot as their medieval ways also refused to evolve. However the one thing that remained constant was that Audrey hardly journeyed farther south than Auradon Castle; certainly didn’t crossed that border into South Riding; wouldn’t dream of stepping foot in Auroria or any of the three castles there.

Not unless she wanted to step into what she was currently already in:

“I thought we agreed that the South Castle would be mine for the fall.”
Her father’s voice, a rare one to behold at any point in her life since the divorce.

“I don’t recall ever agreeing to such terms. You probably made it up on the spot to humiliate me.”

The divorce which, unsurprisingly enough in Audrey’s opinion, had been initiated by her mother. And which was always painstakingly rehashed…by both of them.

“Don’t blame me for that, it seems you’re doing just fine on your own.”

“Little thanks to you! What do want now; to try and claim the East Castle as well?”

Audrey didn’t hear much past her mother’s last accusation, as their voices moved farther away and deeper into the house, which left her hovering in the parlor clutching her purse and furiously texting Lonnie for tips on how not to kill someone. Or at the very least, creative ways to not get caught.

“…can’t come and visit…?” and “Seems more than excessive.” and “Well that’s what I get I suppose for marrying someone I barely knew!” and “What else would you want me to be for you? What, was saving you and your whole kingdom not enough!” and so on, and so forth, ad nauseum.

Her phone buzzes in her palm and she clicks through the various screens until she reaches her messages.

{Warrior Princess: How do you feel about blood?}

Audrey stifles her amused, albeit nervous chuckle and quickly types back, glancing up every now and then to keep an ear on the pace of the argument.

{Not particularly fond…it doesn’t come out of clothes!!}

Something thuds from a few rooms over, an indignant screech following soon after. Audrey bites her lip and idly debates over if it had been that lifelike bust of her father that had gone this time, or if it had been one of her mother’s miniature glass roses.

{Warrior Princess: True, forgot how much you love your dresses. I was gonna suggest dismembering the corpse for easier removal, but I guess that’s out.}

Glass smashes, and Audrey snickers to herself at Lonnie’s message.

{Who’s to say there wouldn’t be two bodies?} She counters, and hangs her purse over one of the velvet chairs. Clearly, this one was going to take a while.

{Warrior Princess: Ok…two is harder, but I could probably still work something out.}

{I could always burn them.} Audrey muses, and Lonnie sends a laughing emoji in response.

{Warrior Princess: Burning’s for amateurs! We’re going for subtly professional here, duh.}

{Of course.} Audrey texts back, barking a laugh of her own. {Because we’ve both killed tons of people and therefore count as qualified ‘professionals.’}

She sends a winking face emoji of her own and waits, but a minute goes by with no response. The rest of the house is silent as well, though she can still hear the murmur of angry voices from somewhere. At least they weren’t yelling, and nothing else had broken. Audrey pegged it at about five more minutes or so of the quiet debating before the coast would be clear enough to walk back through the front door.

In the space between texts and furious, muffled arguing, Audrey did a quick search of the AuraWeb for some other ideas. Lighting on one that sounded promising, she switches back over to messaging and texts Lonnie again.

{So, I found this one thing on an AuraWeb article that said that if I wear different sized shoes, I could cover my own footprints. And then there’s another whole section just about fashioning murder weapons! Do you think I could make some kind of poison gas from my makeup?}

Lonnie texted back before she’d even finished, her text punctuated with alternating angry and crying emojis.

{Warrior Princess: Ancestors above, Audrey, do you not think!? Now they have your trail and know what you’ve been searching!}

Audrey blushes guiltily for making Lonnie so upset, and vaguely notes that all the arguing seems to have stopped from the next room.

{Sorry, didn’t realize you were so into this…}

{Warrior Princess: Are you kidding me? I’ve literally been deleting every message since the start of this conversation.}

{Lol!}

{Warrior Princess: I don’t intend to go down for this, Drey. If we’re taking someone out, we’re doing it right or not at all.}

Audrey chuckles quietly, grinning widely as she texts back. {So dedicated, Lonnie, haha! It’s not like you’ve ever actually done something like this before though.}

A much longer beat of silence this time, and Audrey idly scoops up her purse and makes her way back to the front door. It hadn’t quite been five minutes, and she’s taking it as a good sign for the conversation that’s about to take place. Lonnie still hadn’t texted back by the time she reaches the door, and she frowns carefully, texting the other girl again.

{Right?} She texts, when her friend still hadn’t responded. {Lonnie?}

{Warrior Princess: Haha, right.…..} And a rather shifty looking smiling face emoji that has Audrey feeling genuinely worried for some reason.

{I have to go.} She texts, feeling a pang of regret as she types. {But this conversation is not over. We will be discussing your murderous tendencies later.}

{Warrior Princess: K. I’ll just sit here and keep watching over an unconscious girl…like that isn’t creepy at all.}

Audrey freezes with her hand halfway to the door handle, staring at her screen uncomprehendingly. Instinct has her panicking and all set to spiral as she thinks on her own family’s experiences with unconscious girls and the after effects of supposed ‘happy endings.’ Finally, her mind starts to work again and she rereads the message. Then she blinks, her tongue clicking against her teeth as she inhales sharply.

{Wait. WHAT?!}

{Warrior Princess: Gottagoexplainlaternotunconsiousanymoreandithinkimightdie.}

And with that, Lonnie leaves the messaging app, and Audrey slumps a little against the door frame, suddenly at a loss as to what was going on. She’s reminded, when a door closes sharply down the hall, and she straightens quickly, opening the front door and closing it hard and with intent before plastering a smile on her face.

“Hi,” she calls loudly, stepping back through the parlor and sliding her phone into the pockets of her dress. “Mom? I just thought I’d…”

Her voice tapers off as her father rounds the corner, and Philip’s tight, haggard expression instantly melts. “Princess,” he sighs, and Audrey all but falls into his arms.

“Hi Daddy,” she mumbles into the silk of his suit, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at least moderately thrilled to see him.

“It’s good to see you sweetheart,” he whispers in her ear before pulling away. “But what are you doing back home? Don’t you have school? Or…” his tanned face screws in thought before his eyes return to hers. “Is it already break?”

Audrey sighs fondly and shakes her head, stepping reluctantly out of his embrace. “No, it’s not. School’s still on, I just wanted to….”

“Didn’t I tell you to leave?” her mother’s voice cuts in sharply from the direction of the sitting room. “I don’t hear you leaving!”

“Guess who’s here, Rose?” Her father calls back in response, and Audrey can’t help but wince slightly at the pet name.

Rose was Audrey’s middle name; a token reminder of a time when things were so much simpler between her parents. When all that really mattered was a half-remembered song and a secret waltz through a forest. Hearing it again now, after so much time apart from that; after the two people who had once shared that waltz had disappeared forever…it wasn’t something that Audrey particularly cherished. Especially with the way her father said it; like it was an accusation: a forced reminder of exactly what had changed between them.

“Audrey,” her mother gasps, and the sound is equal parts joy and anguish. “I didn’t think you’d be back until….”

“It’s a surprise visit,” Audrey blurts, not moving from the space between her father and the carpet that lined the mansion’s entrance. “I just had some questions about things that have been going on at school and thought talking in person would be best, so….”

She’s rambling, and she clamps down on it sharply, trying to smile despite the way her throat feels like a stone is lodged inside and her stomach twists into a thorny mess.

“Of course,” her father says cheerily, clapping a warm but overly familiar hand around her shoulder. “We’re always here for you, pumpkin.”

Her mother sniffs pointedly, and her father shoots her a filthy look and Audrey is all set to start hiding away anything remotely valuable when her mother cracks, and smiles.

“Of course,” she repeats, and gestures grandly towards the back of the house and in the general direction of the open kitchen space. “Let’s all sit and you can share.”

And so then it shifts; from “Oh, how are you dear?” and “Can’t believe how grown up you are” (“Of course you can’t, you’ve only been gone five years.”) and (“Who’s fault is that, though Rose?”) and tight looks that say Not In Front of Audrey and right back into “Heard about that decree, nasty business bringing villains into Auradon” and “Certainly hope you’re staying well away from those heathens” and “Half a mind to pull you out of there” and (“So she can do what? Spend time with you?”) and (“Must be better than spending it with you”) and Not In Front of Audrey; so by the time they finally reach the kitchen, it’s as if they’d done so by wading through a trench of fire.

Her father pulls a chair out for her and Audrey slumps into it weakly before remembering and straightens into a far more princess appropriate pose. She’s still so tired of all of this though, and she watches her father approach his own chair; watches as the disregard in his body shifts as his eyes meet hers, and he turns and extends another chair for her mother. He doesn’t push it in for her though once she’s seated, and Audrey watches as her mother scoots herself closer, an expression of tightly concealed disdain on her face.

“Now then,” her mother starts to say, before her father interrupts, tenting his fingers like this is a business meeting instead of family. (However loosely it fit.)

“So just which villains did they end up choosing?” he asks abruptly, and Audrey blinks a moment, caught off guard.

“Why...It doesn’t really matter, though, does it?” She counters carefully, simultaneously pondering why she was protecting the VKs (protecting Mal, a small part of her traitorously whispers.)

“Well clearly it matters to you,” her mother replies, and at Audrey’s wondering look. “I’m your mother, it’s my job to know these things.”

Her father swallows a scoff and nearly chokes, but her mother pointedly ignores him.

“You’re here now,” she continues with a small shrug. “You might as well tell us everything so we can help.”

We, Audrey notes. But really just one of you, because you won’t let Dad do anything, and he won’t let you do anything either, which is exactly what I’m afraid of.

“It’s not really about them at all,” Audrey lies expertly, feigning her own disinterest with a perfect roll of her eyes. “They sneak around the school and go to class when they feel like it, so no one sees them. Ben thinks that defeats the point of them being here, but honestly, I’m not complaining.”

Both of her parents relax minutely at that, and Audrey feels her worry increasing. This wasn’t going to work. This was a terrible idea and she should never have come here she knew better than to come home why was she here?

“So then what’s up buttercup?”

Her mother huffs at her father’s classic ‘Dad’ ness, but Audrey finds a small bit of relief in it all the same. She should try and utilize him over her mother, if she was being brutally honest. He would hold more weight with the Counsel, being a Prince, and his instinctive nature was always to rush headlong against something he felt was wrong (or into whatever he thought was right), regardless of rational thought. She lets her worry and fear about it all show on her face and instantly sees the way he shifts his weight so he’s leaning more into her; all set to be pointed in the right direction.

“Well, aside from the villains, (the stress was purely for her mother’s benefit, but it helps get the older Princess more engaged) there are some other new kids to the school as well, and no one really knows much about them either. Which of course, has Ben worried because there’s nothing he can’t figure out about a person, you know?”

“Just like Belle,” her mother comments, but she’s listening, which was more than Audrey could hope for.

“Yeah,” she continues, taking another slow breath. “So everyone’s trying to figure out who these kids are and about their background and…well with some of the things that were noticed we weren’t sure if…” she pauses her rambling and decides after a quick look at her father’s concerned face to just be blunt.

“What do you do if you suspect that someone’s in a not-so-great situation?”

“Well you’ll have to be more specific than that,” her mother intones, but Audrey can hear the undercurrent of doubt in her voice that she latches on to instantly.

“Ok,” Audrey agrees, and glances to her father again. “What do you if you think someone is being abused? How do you prove it, and keep them from having to go back to it?”

Her father blanches ever so slightly, though quickly recovers and instantly snaps into the hero mode that Audrey had secretly been hoping for.

“Well first of all, you’d need to establish just what sort of support system you have to work with,” her father’s voice is soothing, but intense in his confidence; in his ability to make at least this better.

“They need a safe place; somewhere, or even someone to go to that’s solely theirs.”

Audrey wasn’t sure how they’d manage that; she was almost positive that the VKs’ ‘safe place’ was each other. She says as much, leaving out specifics, but her father nods.

“That’s fine,” he says. “Make sure to set up a physical place for them as well, and make it clear that it’s theirs and no one else will come into it without their permission, or bother them while they’re there.”

She makes a mental note of it and nods for her father to continue. Her purses his lips thoughtfully, then folds his hands from their tent before speaking.

“I’m assuming you’ve already figured out or have an idea of the type of abuse they might have gone through?”

She blinks, and tries to remember what Doug had mentioned. “We aren’t sure,” she finally admits slowly. “Just that we’ve noticed a lot of bruises, and the way they always sort of flinch away whenever anyone gets too close or talks too loud, even if we’re excited.”

“Well it’s a start, at least,” her father murmurs. “Of course therapy and talking about it would help much more than just a safe place.”
Audrey thinks of the VKs (and more specifically, Carlos) and makes a face, shaking her head. “I don’t know how well talking about it would go. They’re pretty closed off.”

Although they had been opening up more, and Jay had formed a decent enough bond with Aziz before things had gone south. Carlos and Jane, too had connected. There was hope, just not enough of it.

“I guess then the best bet is to just start with the safe space,” her father says then. “That should help with getting them to open up, and from there, you can approach therapy once everyone is ready and comfortable.”

“What I want to know,” her mother speaks for the first time. “Is just who these children are, and why you care so much? More importantly, why you think we should care?”

“Well you certainly don’t miss a thing, do you?” her father mutters, and Audrey can’t help but think the same thing.

“We care,” Audrey begins, but then her mother interrupts, seizing on that.

“And you do keep saying that: ‘we.’ Who’s ‘we?’”

“Me, for one,” Audrey sighs, and her father gives her a knowing look out of the corner of his eyes. “Ben, of course. Doug, Lonnie, Jane and Chad.” (And maybe Aziz and Nikki, if they come around to the idea at all)

“Hm, and I guess it’s no surprise at least that Chad’s a part of it, given the whole Cinderella fiasco.”

Audrey presses her lips tightly together and says nothing, (which took a lot of self-control and she deserves that credit thank you very much) and her mother takes her silence as agreement and permission to continue.

“And I suppose the reason you came to us, is because you think we’d be able to say something at the next meeting. Argue to let these children stay somewhere other than in an abusive situation?”

“Ideally, yes,” Audrey says tightly. “That’s the plan, anyway.”

“You aren’t seriously suggesting we do otherwise…?”

“I’m suggesting we need more information before we decide on anything.”

Her mother says ‘we’ but talks as if her father had never sat down at the table. It’s a royal we if anything, and Audrey would have laughed at that if she weren’t mentally reminding herself that blood wouldn’t wash out of her dress and that any other option would be too amateur for Lonnie to approve of.

“Well I’ll see what I can find out,” Audrey finally says, and she stands from her chair before she can change her mind. “I’ll write.”

“You can call,” her father chimes in, almost a plea, and Audrey quickly presses a kiss to her mother’s cheek before she can fire a retort.

“I’ll keep in touch,” she says, the most she can promise either of them right now.

“Just make sure you’re careful around those villains,” her mother calls after her.

“Really, Aurora,” her father’s voice follows her to the door, heavy and weary all at once. “She can make her own decisions you know.”

(And) “Yes I do know, I’m the one who stuck around.”

(And) “Not like you left me any choice.”

(And) “Plenty of choices, you just decided not to be the hero this time!”

(And) “Don’t know why I didn’t stop to think that day in the forest. I mean, what girl sings alone in the woods?”

(And) “Last time I checked you found it endearing!”

(And Not In Front of Audrey! doesn’t matter anymore because she’s already gone, sprinting down the drive and all but throwing herself at the doors of the car that had been waiting on the other side of the bridge.)

Mal 

“Now remember, Mal,” her mother was saying, in that tight tone of voice that meant ‘this is important’ and ‘listen to me.’ “Magic isn’t something to take lightly. This is very serious, and very dangerous.”

Like me, Mal thought viciously, her hands twisting under the table. I’m a dragon, and what are you? Just a little shrimp.

“Magic isn’t yours. You do not use magic; magic uses you.”

How about I show you just how powerful I am? Mal thought, fighting against the sneer that wanted to curl her lips, focusing on the motion of her fingers instead, imagining flames in her palms. You wouldn’t look so smug then.

“I can only teach you the basics; it’s up to you to make something of yourself and earn your full name,” her mother intoned severely. “Now, when you harness your magic- and that’s all it really is for now; you are the vessel- it might only manifest itself in little sparks at first. But then it will lead to so much more, if you’re truly willing to learn and-- Are you listening to me?”

Mal stiffened at the sudden spike in her mother’s tone, her eyes flickering up to meet furious green.

“Yes,” she whispered, instantly darting her eyes away while she still could.

“What was I saying?” Maleficent demanded, and Mal straightened, instantly reciting.

“You said that magic isn’t something to be used, it’s harnessed. I’m the vessel for the power, and I might not make more than sparks at first, but once I learn more…” she finished with a wicked smile, feeling her own eyes light with green as she imagined what she’d do to that muddy little shrimp.

“That’s my little dragon,” her mother hissed with that fierce pride she so rarely showed now. “Someday, the two of us will…”

“Mama,” Mal interrupted, and despite the sudden glare Maleficent threw her in response, she found herself plunging ahead. “Do you love me?”

Maleficent went entirely still, her eyes suddenly a much brighter green. “You are eight years old, Mal," she said slowly, her voice devoid of emotion. "Haven’t I told you that you’re too old for such babyish names? Now, then. The barrier won’t allow for much in terms of expressing your magic, which is why if you ever get off of this rock, the transition will be painful. But I know…”

“Mother,” Mal said, too sharp. Too urgent. “Do you love me.”

‘At least my mother loves me.’ The shrimp had screamed in her face, laughing despite the blood that tangled with the seaweed in her hair. ‘Yours wouldn’t know what love was even if she cut out her heart and gave it to you.’

And sure, it had been twisting the fairy-tales, and yes, Mal had made her scream in other ways for that comment; but the words had been like ice as they slid down Mal’s back, and even though the moment had long past, the chill they left behind stuck with her.

Mal watched as the green left her mother’s eyes, her arms lowering from the dramatic pose they had been in. Mal grit her jaw in determination and lifted her head to continue staring at her mother as she slowly drew closer to the table.

“Where did you get such a foolish idea from?” Maleficent murmured, and though her tone was disguised as thoughtful, Mal could detect the danger just underneath. “Really, Mal?”

She tried not to blink, to not feel as though she had swallowed one of Jay’s poisons. Seeing as she had done just that a few weeks ago, the comparison here wasn’t all that dissimilar. There was that same acid burning in her throat, the fire as it hit her stomach. The lurching, wrenching feeling in her gut as her insides tried to tear themselves apart. And then, the slow, debilitating calm that came over everything as her body went into shock…

Maleficent turned away with a sharp snarl of disgust. “I thought I raised you better than that. This isn’t Auradon.”

“But do you love me?” Mal demanded, feeling the tears well up in spite of herself. She had to say yes. She had to say of course I love you, even if this is the Isle and there’s no true way to show positive feelings without danger. You’re my little dragon. My daughter. Of course….

“Love is for fairy-tales, Mal.”

At least my mother loves me.

Mal decided that she was going to kill the shrimp next time.

Lonnie

Of all the ideas for a fun time on a Friday evening, sitting in a high-backed plastic chair and watching an unconscious villain kid sleep wasn’t exactly on Lonnie’s list. Although, Audrey’s extremely entertaining messages were certainly making the situation a little less weird. It wasn’t that Lonnie felt unsafe being this close to Mal, even with the other girl’s current state (or, lack of) awareness. She wouldn’t have volunteered so hastily otherwise. If anything, Lonnie was absolutely thrilled at the idea; of the chance to dispel some of her own grand views of the VKs and get to know them.

But there wasn’t much getting to know at the moment. An IV was attached to Mal’s arm, clear liquid dripping steadily down the shallow tube. The Fairy Godmother had seemed surprised, but hadn’t protested when she’d walked in and seen Lonnie in the midst of dragging a chair closer to the bed. Instead she sighed and gave a quick, tight smile, before going about a brief explanation of what she was doing and what Lonnie should do if x.y.z happened.

Lonnie eyed the monitor, noting its still even beat, and stifled a short laugh as she read Audrey’s latest text. She didn’t envy the other girl her position; regretted, in fact, that her friend still had to put up with all the drama her parents kicked up. But she also recognized and respected Audrey’s determination to fight against the powers that be, especially when she knew the other girl didn’t exactly disagree with said powers. Lonnie, on the other hand, didn’t really need much of an excuse to fight. There was an injustice happening here, and as long as she had the opportunity then by all the ancestors she was going to do something about it!

The VKs didn’t get enough to eat. They didn’t get enough sunlight. Or water. Clothes they did possess, but really, Lonnie thought, eyeing the fraying threads in Mal’s jeans. Define ‘clothes.’ The Fairy Godmother, along with Merry, Flo and Faun, had gone almost as pale as Mal as the various results from whatever tests they had done started popping up. They’d fluttered anxiously and whispered together before the Fairy Godmother had decided she needed to make some ‘calls;’ with all the secretive importance emphasized, before leaving Lonnie unceremoniously ‘in charge.’

And so, Lonnie sat and watched Mal’s chest rise and fall, eyed the green straps secured around her wrists and ankles, counted how long until the next beep of the monitor. As a game, Lonnie decided to try an exercise her parents had often tried to teach her when she was younger, but never quite had the patience to master. She waited, scrutinizing Mal’s breathing a bit more before slowly releasing her own breath and drawing it back in as Mal’s chest rose. She was off by a beat of the monitor, so she exhaled slowly and did it again. And again. Until she was barely half a beat off and pretty proud of herself.

She slowly drew her phone from her pocket, still careful of her breath control, and loses when she snorts softly at Audrey’s latest text.

{A Rose with Thorns: So dedicated, Lonnie, haha! It’s not like you’ve ever actually done something like this before though.}

Lonnie barely contains her laugh so it comes out more like a heavy puff of air instead of the louder outburst it wants to be. Sure she’d never killed a person before, but her dad liked his hunting trips as much as the next ‘modern man,’ and even her mom had done her fair share when it came to the nitty gritty of all that such activities required. Many a family vacation consisted of hunting tours disguised as camping trips for the more faint-hearted Auradonians; with Lonnie and her dad going out with weapons drawn and blazing, while her mom scouted their ideal territory and defended it until they got back.

Not to mention of course, the various and mass amount of weapons training that had been engrained in her since she’d turned two. So yes, Lonnie was more than proficient enough to be giving Audrey all the advice she desired.

{A Rose with Thorns: Right? Lonnie?}

{Haha, right…}

And of course, having fun and scaring her just a little bit. Lonnie smirked to herself as she sent the corresponding emoji with the text, effectively giving up on the game of matching her breathing to Mal’s as she laughed softly with Audrey’s next message; the other girl promising that their discussion was far from over. The bit about Lonnie supposedly having ‘murderous tendencies’ was just an added bonus in her opinion.

She cast a quick eye back over to Mal as she responded, frowning at the monitor as it seemed to skip a beat before resuming. If the beats were just a tad more rhythmic than their previous steady pace, Lonnie only registered it subconsciously. Consciously, she was debating if her quip to Audrey about watching unconscious girls sleeping being creepy had been in poor taste. But she didn’t have much time to debate for long, as the monitor spiked sharply, just as a harsh gasp slipped past Mal’s lips.
Instantly, Lonnie was alert, letting her own sharp intake of breath fall in line with Mal’s next exhale, her fingers flying over the screen of her phone and producing a massive, barely legible run-on for Audrey to interpret.

{Gottagoexplainlaternotunconsiousanymoreandithinkimightdie.}

She’d hit Send and slipped her phone back into her pocket before Mal had managed another breath, which was really saying something since Lonnie was now actively working to get her own breath back under control. It wasn’t quite a game anymore now, though Lonnie wasn’t sure yet if she’d truly meant it when she’d said she thought she might die. She eyed the red button beside the monitor to her left; the promise that the Fairy Godmother had left that they would be there right away as soon as she pressed it giving her enough confidence to relax minutely from her tense pose.

As she did, Mal’s eyes flickered open, and Lonnie felt a chill at the fire she could see burning in the green within. Then the other girl spoke, and she had another reason to be more concerned.

“Who are you, and why are you still alive?”

Despite being unconscious for almost three hours, Mal’s voice, while raspy, held an impossible crackle of power. Instinct and pride kicked in, and Lonnie straightened in her chair, lifting her chin slightly.

“Lonnie, daughter of Fa Mulan and Li Shang,” she announces with all the dignity those house names require. “And, as for why I’m not dead, well, it could have something to do with my being assigned to watch over you.”

“Great,” Mal snaps, the fire dimming from her eyes and leaving a much more natural usual green. “So I guess you’re my warden, then?”

Lonnie blinks, relaxing from her stiff posture slowly and making sure her hands were still in her lap.

“Not necessarily,” she replies. “I just thought I’d keep you company, and you know, be a friendly face when you finally woke up.”

Mal scoffs through her nose, her eyes narrowing at the ceiling. “There’s no such thing. And anyway, I don’t need ‘friendly.’ What I need is for you to tell me where the rest of my group is, and then leave before I change my mind about keeping you alive.”

Lonnie can’t help it. She laughs, chuckling softly while something inside her soars gleefully. She’d finally found someone else who shared her own (admittedly vaguely morbid) sense of humor. She wasn’t about to pass this up for anything!

“What part of anything I just said did you not get?” Mal says, frowning, and Lonnie shakes her head quickly, stifling her laughter with difficulty.

“No, I’m sorry,” she says, still grinning broadly. “It’s just, you’re so me!”

Mal doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, judging by the way her face screws up. Or rather, Lonnie suspects, she was just trying to think of the right curses to use.

“But, to answer your question, the last I saw, Evie Jay and Carlos were together and in the dorms,” Lonnie continues, and Mal seems to relax at that, though it’s impossible to say for sure as the other girl still seems kind of tense.

“Well that’s good to hear,” Mal mutters, before laughing herself. “Never thought I’d say ‘good’ and mean it like that before.”

Lonnie smiles a bit, and is all set to make a joke of her own when Mal continues.

“So…guessing by the fact that I can’t move and also happen to be in the infirmary, and that you’re here instead of, I don’t know, Ben or the rest of my group, nothing ‘good’ is happening outside of those doors.”

Lonnie feels her soaring hope sink suddenly, and she sucks a slow breath as she debates the best way to go about this. The fairies hadn’t left any instructions on what to do about this, and she idly wonders if she could press the red button now to save herself the difficulty. But that wasn’t what either of her parents would do and she knows it, so instead she braces herself for Mal’s reaction, and answers.

“After what happened in the gardens, there was a lot of debate about what was going to be done, and how to keep things from spiraling out of control.” She keeps her voice level, and calm. Not accusing, and not blaming. Simply stating facts. “It was decided by King Adam that having the VKs in Auradon was too dangerous, and he revoked Ben’s decree.”
Lonnie stops just before the added clarification that they were going back to the Isle as Mal seemed to have already gotten it. She’d gone almost deathly pale, her fingers gripping the sides of the infirmary bed so tightly Lonnie half expected the metal to start warping.

“He can do that.” Mal’s voice was blank, also just stating facts, but tight with what Lonnie knew was suppressed panic. “Of course he can. He’s the King. Of course he can…fuck.”

The curse comes out as a trembling breath, and Lonnie had inched herself forward and curled her fingers around Mal’s with barely a thought. “It’s ok, Mal,” she says calmly. “We’re not going to let him send you guys back. We’re doing everything we can to fight him. It’s going to be ok.”

She forces herself away from the phrases like ‘no one’s going to hurt you,’ and ‘you’re not dying,’ because she’d seen for herself the realities and well founded-ness of those fears. She doesn’t want to give the other girl any more reason for panic, and already, her promises seemed to have broken through.

“You’re…what?”

Lonnie subtly shifts her left hand to press the red button, if only because it was about time the fairies knew what was going on, squeezing Mal’s hand gently with her right.

“You didn’t really think we’d just let him send you back without a fight, did you?” She says it as lightly as she can, but judging by the way Mal’s jaw clenches, it’s not as lightly received.

“Well, we are,” Lonnie says firmly. “He can’t make such a huge decision without approval, and we’re going to argue for why it’s better for you guys here.”

“I don’t know whether to be touched,” Mal says slowly, her expression pinched. “Or disgusted.”

Lonnie blinks, caught off guard. She realizes belatedly that her hand is grasping open air, as Mal had jerked it away at some point during the conversation. Lonnie lets out a reflexive, nervous laugh, and Mal’s lips press tighter together.

“I uh…I’m not sure why that would be a bad thing,” Lonnie broaches carefully, and Mal’s eyes flash indignantly.

“Maybe the part where you Auradonians don’t have a fucking clue as to what it’s like over there; what our lives are like, and yet here you are still bragging about this wonderful thing you’re doing for the poor abused villain kids!”

Mal’s tirade ends abruptly, and Lonnie thinks she can practically hear the other girl’s jaw snap shut. It hangs there between them, that word, and Lonnie can’t think of anything else to say other than:

“I never said you guys were abused.”

“You were thinking it,” Mal says immediately, her eyes instantly darting away and towards the opposite wall, so Lonnie can no longer make out her expression. “All of you. It’s that stupid fucking pity look you do that gives it away.”

Before Lonnie can think of an adequate response to that, the door clicks open and the fairies flutter in. Mal’s reaction is instantaneous; she tenses, and the eye contact she gives to the Fairy Godmother as the woman enters is like a challenge and a warning and a threat all at once.

“Well I’m relieved to see you awake at least,” the Fairy Godmother says, either not noticing or just tactfully not mentioning the look in Mal’s eyes. “How are you feeling, Mal?”

“Pissed as all fuck.”

Lonnie spreads her hands helplessly at the Fairy Godmother’s lifted brow, while Merry chokes in the background.

“Well,” the Fairy Godmother finally says slowly. “I suppose that’s to be expected given just how much magic you exhausted.”

“Yeah,” Mal mutters lowly. “It’s not like I had sixteen years’ worth of magic locked inside me or anything. No consequences there at all.”

No one misses the sharp bitterness in her tone, but Lonnie somehow gets the impression that it’s not necessarily directed at them. Regardless, it causes the fairies to exchange a tight, anxious look, and the Fairy Godmother to straighten severely.

“Yes,” she says tightly, checking Mal’s monitor and adjusting the IV minutely. “In regards to that, Mal, we have some questions for you.”

Mal tenses further, something guarded going up behind her eyes. “Ok,” she says carefully, and the Fairy Godmother exchanges another glance with the fairies before turning back to Mal.

“Given the extent of your ‘magical hiatus,’ if you will, the range and capabilities you demonstrated in the gardens should have been nearly impossible; even with tapping into the loose magic here in Auradon.”

Mal’s eyes flicker, but her expression remains more or less the same. She nods her head as if to say ‘ok, and?’ and the Fairy Godmother lifts a brow at her in a silent counter. Lonnie has to fight to remain neutral and unnoticed in this battle of wills, and she fiddles idly with the cuff of her bracelet as Mal’s jaw clenches slightly.

“Yes,” Mal says finally, and the Fairy Godmother seems subtly surprised. Clearly, she hadn’t been expecting to win that interaction. “My mother taught me magic on the Isle. She started when I was four, and didn’t stop even when the limo pulled up to our door a week ago.”

Lonnie thinks a smile might have crept around the edges of Mal’s mouth at those last words, but it’s gone too fast for her to tell for sure. The Fairy Godmother nods, and looks strangely pleased.

“I suspected as much,” she says. “And, as loathe as I am to admit this given the circumstances, teaching you about magic and the extent of your own was…is, a good thing.”
Mal blinks, and the guardedness in her eyes falls away. “Really?”

“Yes, well, I doubt the king would be pleased to hear such news,” the Fairy Godmother admits ruefully. “But, really. I shudder to think of just how much damage could have been done if you’d simply been let loose in Auradon without such knowledge or grasp of your abilities, surrounded by untapped magic….”

She trails off with a vague sound and Mal straightens on the bed, latching onto something in the other woman’s words.

“Yes, well,” Mal says, in precisely the same cadence and tone as the older fairy. “I’ll be sure to tell my mother when I see her that Fairy Godmother herself said that breaking the law and teaching me magic was a good thing.”

“If I have anything to say for it, and believe me, I do, it will be some time yet before that happens,” the Fairy Godmother replies without hesitation, and something uncertain crosses Mal’s face.

“I thought the King made a decree,” she says slowly, inching her way further upright.

“He did,” the Fairy Godmother admits. “But if he thinks he’s just going to toss you four back to that Isle without any reckoning from me, well…he has another thing coming.”

“This from the woman who helped make the decision to restrain Carlos,” Mal snarls through gritted teeth, her own wrists straining pointedly. “Forgive me if I’m not exactly leaping for joy.”

“It…was a decision that I believed was necessary at the time,” the Fairy Godmother answers carefully, her voice heavy. “And one that I do deeply regret, as I fear you no longer trust that I have your best interests at heart.”

“Don’t take it too personally,” Mal mutters. “It’s not a first for us and it won’t be the last, so spare me the tearful apologies.”

She was doing that thing again, Lonnie realized with a start. Just like in the gardens and briefly what Lonnie had witnessed in the cafeteria that one time. Lashing out and hurling insults, putting up a fight to cover her fear. The Fairy Godmother notices it too, if the slightly concerned, ‘not buying your act’ look on her face was any indication. Before either of them could respond, however, Faun stepped forward and spoke instead.

“If anyone should be apologizing, it’s you,” she says sternly, leveling Mal with a surprisingly fierce look. “But as it stands, we have other important things to discuss: such as your lifestyle habits. So if you’d be so kind as to tell us…”

“I know you,” Mal says, cutting across the young woman’s tirade. “Why do I know you?”

The girl’s eyes narrow, and Lonnie thinks she sees a hint of green sparking in them before Mal’s expression clears and it’s gone again.

“Oh right,” Mal says softly, a dangerous undercurrent in her tone. “That’s why.”

And before anyone has time to question how or what, the edge of Faun’s cape is suddenly showered in sparks, the fabric catching almost instantly in such a flare of brilliant green, it makes the young woman’s hair look cheap in comparison.

“That,” Mal says, “Was for killing my mother.” Her voice is startlingly weak despite the triumph that colors her tone.

Merry and Flo shoot her matching, disgruntled looks while Faun smoothly whips her cape off her shoulder and stomps firmly on the flames.

“I suppose…it’s only fair,” Faun gasps breathlessly, glaring at the now thoroughly ruined cape beneath her feet, and holding out a hand to calm her twittering siblings and the Fairy Godmother.

“Although, for the record Mal, we didn’t kill your mother. That would be uh, our mothers, but seeing as they live in Camelot you’ll have a hard time reaching them.”

She smiles tightly in the face of Mal’s scowl, and Lonnie has to give the young fairy-woman massive credit for her guts, and for her calm. The Fairy Godmother clears her throat pointedly, and Mal’s glare shifts focus, though Lonnie can see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, the subtle clenching of her hands.

“I think,” the Fairy Godmother says slowly, clearly struggling to remain calm. “That it would be best if I only had one of you here, to minimize…well.”

Lonnie sighs, inwardly sinking in defeat before rising from her chair. She knew she would be kicked out eventually, but still, she had been hoping….

“Lonnie dear,” the Fairy Godmother says softly, and Lonnie blinks, looking up at the other woman. “Would you mind terribly staying? I know it’s a lot to ask of you but--”

“No of course,” Lonnie blurts, then clears her throat, composing herself quickly and slipping into a far more neutral tone. “I mean, I’d be glad to help.”

The splutters and protests from the other fairies are silenced by Faun, who tosses the Fairy Godmother a brief, grateful look before shooing her siblings out the door. Lonnie turns carefully and resumes her seat, suddenly aware of the fact that now it was just her, the Fairy Godmother, and Mal, and while she still wasn’t afraid, she was certainly more cautious. If Mal decided she didn’t like her, what then? Would she be roasted just as the fairies had been?

“Those three,” the Fairy Godmother sighs, shaking her head. “While I don’t condone your actions in the slightest, Mal, I do know how overwhelming they can be at times.”

Mal makes a quite humming sound that Lonnie thinks might have been a laugh, but says nothing else, and the Fairy Godmother continues.

“That being said, due to the recent circumstances I think that it’s best that while you remain here in Auradon I continue with your magic lessons.”

“I don’t…I don’t get it,” Mal mutters, her fingers tapping against the bars of the bed. “There’s a whole decree. We’re not going to be in Auradon for much longer. Why are you…?”

“Because I think it’s important for you to have as much knowledge about your magic as possible,” the Fairy Godmother says, cutting across Mal’s protest. “And as for your last concern well, as I said, I’m going to do everything I can to ensure your stay here.”

“And we’re all helping,” Lonnie chimes in, finally glad to have things back on a track she can follow. “Ben has a plan. We’re not going to leave you to the Isle again.”

“Thanks,” Mal says shortly, her eyes sharp even if her voice didn’t quite carry it. “But no thanks. We’ve seen all we need to; Auradon’s fine or whatever but the Isle is where we belong. Clearly.”

“Mal, I understand that things seem difficult…impossible even. But I really think if you give us a chance--”

“No.” Mal snaps, and her tone is sharp as she bares her teeth in a fierce expression at the Fairy Godmother. “You don’t get a say here. You don’t get to just bippidy boppidy boo things better this time. Not after what you did to Carlos…to us.” She shakes her head, gritting her jaw. “No.”

The Fairy Godmother looks stunned, and then resigned, nodding her head slowly and taking a half step back. “I understand,” she says softly. “But I hope you understand that I do care about what happens to you. All of you. And I will still be here whenever you are ready.”

She turns for the door then, and Lonnie starts slightly. It’s an entirely understandable strategy; a tactical retreat and regroup, but the gesture still leaves her caught off guard and more unsure than ever before. The Fairy Godmother pauses before leaving to look back at her with a reassuring smile and a nod.

“I’ll be just in the hall.” She says it to both of them, and yet Lonnie is sure it’s entirely for her benefit. “If you need anything.”

And then she’s gone, and Lonnie is alone with Mal. The room is silent for a tense moment, and then Mal lets out a harsh exhale and sits fully upright in the bed, stretching down to undo the straps around her ankles.

“Finally,” the other girl mutters under her breath. “About time she got the fucking hint.”

Lonnie blinks, though she’s not as surprised as she should have been that Mal had somehow freed herself from the restraints. Honestly, the girl had been secretly wondering how long it would take the other to do just that, and Lonnie is secretly pleased to see that she hadn’t underestimated the other girl.

“Do you want me to go, too?” she asks, and Mal sighs again, laying back against the pillows.

“No,” she says, then frowns. “I mean yes, but…no.”

“Ok.” Lonnie eases back in her chair just a bit, and Mal seems to relax slightly as well.

“Why didn’t you run?” Mal says, and Lonnie looks up at her, but the other girl’s eyes are closed, her hands still at her sides. “In the garden. Now. Aren’t you terrified of the horrible villains?”

“I don’t see any horrible villains,” Lonnie answers honestly, and Mal’s hands turn into fists again, but her eyes remain closed, impassive. “I just see kids. Like us.”

“I am nothing like you,” Mal spits, her eyes opening enough to dart a narrow-eyed glare in Lonnie’s direction. “None of us are, and that was your first mistake. Assuming that we’re in any way like you.”

“Ok,” Lonnie says, eager for the challenge but anxious as to just what she might find out if she pressed. “How are we different?”

Mal scoffs, forcing herself upright and glaring at Lonnie. “Well let’s start with the simple fact that our parents are villains and yours are heroes and go from there.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean…,” Lonnie tries, but falls silent at the sharp look Mal gives her. “Ok,” she concedes instead. “Maybe it does, but it doesn’t change the fact that you guys are still kids, and pretty much just want the same things we do.”

“Which are what, again?” Mal asks, that same sharp skepticism reflecting in her voice. “I guess we were all just so busy with staying alive and avoiding our parents that we forgot.”

And Lonnie definitely seized on that little bit of information, noting the tight inflection as Mal said the words ‘avoiding our parents’; the way she seemed to tense over the phrase. That and of course, the emphasis on staying alive, as if every minute not spent looking over your shoulder resulted in a painful death. Or just pain in general. It’s a horribly sobering thought, and one that Lonnie doesn’t want to focus on but knows that she has to if this is going to work.

“Well,” Lonnie says, forcing a light tone despite the fact that this wasn’t anything to be light over. “Really it’s just simple living, you know? Things like having friends, having fun. Love, family. Stuff like that.”

“My point still stands,” Mal says, her words clipped in what Lonnie thinks might be anger, but suspects is something heavier. Grief.

“But even on the Isle you guys had to have had something like that,” Lonnie tries, and Mal smirks without humor.

“Something like that.”

Lonnie is entirely silent, unable to process- no, she’s able to process, she just doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to think of all the implications, doesn’t want to imagine the things the VKs might have gone through. Mal takes in the look on her face, seeming to read her thoughts from her expression. This time when she smiles, it’s a bit more genuine, though Lonnie feels vaguely horrified by it.

“It’s ok,” the girl says, with far too much calm for the ideas going through Lonnie’s head. “We’re used to getting Auradon’s leftovers.”

And that’s when it solidifies in Lonnie’s mind just how messed up a system it was. That the VK’s lives were so far removed from their own; that even the idea of things like family and friends (love) were nothing more than unwanted leftovers. Just the same cast off ideals from Auradon, sent to the same trash filled demise as everything else- to the Isle of the Lost.

Jay 

It was Tuesday, and Jay was late. He darted through the alleyways, avoiding taking the direct route through the market. Odds were slim that Mal would be at home at the castle anyway, but it would also mean less of a risk of being seen by any unwanted eyes. The hideout was on the very edge of the village, just straddling the border between the wharf and the docks. It was a source of contention amongst all the gangs, because the one who held the docks, held the food and anything else that Auradon sent over. Sure, there were Auradonian guards with each drop to make sure the items reached the markets, but what was a bag or two of soggy bread snagged by a child?

Jay knew better than to hope of ever taking the docks, not with Uma and her pirates claiming the place, but Mal’s hideout was the next best thing; close enough to the docks to scavenge and yet still being untouchable by being on the mainland, if only by three-quarters. None of that would really matter though unless he got there, and he was already two weeks overdue for meeting Mal. Never mind that it hadn’t been him so much as his father’s deal for his life that had caused the delay. Mal wouldn’t forgive him for delaying any further.
Which was how Jay found himself sneaking around the edge of the docks, holding his breath and doing everything he could to stay as low to the ground as possible. It wasn’t an ideal shortcut, but if he made it through the drain pipe at the far side, he’d be right near the hideout and then…

“Hi.”

He shot upright, knife in hand even as his heart leapt into his throat. Jay fought not to grimace at the shaggy-haired boy in front of him, very much aware of the not-so-casual way the youth’s fingers curled around the hilt his sword.

“Hi,” Jay offered back tersely, darting a quick glance over his shoulder. The rest of the dock was clear, so where had this idiot come from?

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the boy said, and though his voice sounded vague, there was a very real threat underlying the way he eyed Jay’s dull colored vest and compared it to his own bright yellow one.

“No,” Jay agreed cautiously, taking a careful step to the left. “No, I’m not, so if I could just….”

“I don’t think Uma would like it if she found out a mainlander had been in her territory,” the boy said, frowning dangerously at Jay. “I’m not sure I should let you go.”

“Gil,” Jay hissed desperately. “Please.”

There wasn’t enough sun this far into the docks, but Jay still could have sworn he saw a glint as the other boy slowly drew his sword. It would have been more menacing if done by anyone else, but the way Gil did it, it was more like he was mentally reminding himself that swords are sharp and he had to be careful using it.

“No mainlanders on the docks,” Gil said, just as slowly and carefully as he’d drawn his sword. “That’s the rule, and Harry says everyone knows it, so if anyone is here that shouldn’t be, it’s their own fault what happens to them.”

Jay groaned, tugging his knife free from his belt and adjusting his grip so the blade faced his own body and not Gil’s. “Yeah but you know me,” he tried, edging another step to the left.

Gil matched his step perfectly, and Jay cursed himself for ever thinking the kid was as idiotic as he appeared.

“I do know you Jay,” he said, and though he grinned brightly at the idea, he didn’t sheath his sword. “Maybe that will help Uma not be so mad.”

“I doubt it,” Jay grumbled, trying another quick step. But Gil matched that one as well, the smile fading slowly from his face.

“You’re right,” he said. “It won’t.”

Then he lunged, and Jay sucked a sharp breath, twisting his body around the blade and flinging up his own knife to counter. Gil easily parried the attack and swung again, aiming low towards Jay’s hip. Jay didn’t understand what he was trying to do, so instead of blocking with his knife, he tried for another lunge of his own. Gil jerked his head sharply to the side, missing the blow that would have blinded him by mere inches, and at the same moment, Jay felt something give and heard a high, metallic cling! chink! ding! that could only mean one thing.

“Oh shit,” he hissed, ducking his head and ramming his shoulder sharply into Gil’s chin. The other boy staggered, and it was just distraction enough that Jay could spare a hasty second to stoop, his fingers scrabbling desperately along the cobbles for his lost treasures. His bag must have come undone, he thought frantically, dark eyes scanning for the tiny silver teapot he’d snagged earlier that morning. Damn it, where…?

He’s pulled rather viciously from his search by a hand, long fingers tangling in his hair and jerking up at the roots. He let out a strangled yell in spite of himself, and is all set to swing a fist backwards when a cold voice stops him abruptly.

“Well, now. Wha’ do we have here?”

The voice is soft but strongly syllabled; all long vowels and hushed ‘h’s. The kind of voice that sent chills down your spine, and it only depended on what mood he was in which kind of shivering you would be doing.

“Harry.”

Gil said the name with something like joy, though it was muffled by the hand he’d pressed tightly over his mouth. The hand in Jay’s hair didn’t loosen, but shifted slightly as its owner leant forward.

“Le’ me see, mate,” he demanded of Gil, who lowered his hand with some reluctance to reveal his split lip, the beginnings of a bruise already starting to show along his jaw where Jay had rammed him with his shoulder.

Harry stiffened with a Cat-like hiss, and Jay went very still, not daring to breathe.

“Ye hurt Gil,” Harry growled in Jay’s ear, all disapproval and scowls. “Nobody hurts Gil.”

“I’m fine, though, Harry,” Gil assured quickly, fumbling to sheath his sword and still keep his lip from bleeding. “Besides, he was already leaving.”

“Was ‘e now?”

Jay shuddered at the way Harry’s voice dropped, dulcet tones that promised nothing but violence. He tried to comfort himself on the fact that at least the other boy hadn’t drawn his sword or anything yet, but then he heard the sickening sshrk! of grating metal, and felt something cool and curved on his cheek.

“And jest wha’ was a filthy mainlander doin’ in our turf, eh?”

“Oh, well he was trying to get back to the mainland,” Gil helpfully supplied, smiling in what he probably thought was a reassuring way. “But I stopped him. Not bad, right Harry?”

“Nah, mate,” Harry agreed. “No’ bad at all.”

Mal 

Mal had had it with waiting for Jay, and was currently doing the one thing she swore to herself she would never do. She was going to talk to Jafar. The sleazy vizier-turned-salesman was the last person whose company she would have sought out, but it had been two weeks since she’d last seen Jay, and it was Tuesday and almost noon. She was going to have her partner back or someone was going to die.

She’d only been to Jay’s father’s house once, and it hadn’t been for long, but she’d memorized the route from the Bargain Castle to the Merchant’s Square, and it wasn’t hard to work out Jafar’s shop from all the others; it being the only one decorated in garish shades of red and dull yellows and oranges that made Mal think of hot sun reflecting off white sand. Not that she would have ever seen such a thing herself, with the Isle being drenched in near perpetual grey and clouds. But it was what she thought of anyway.
She paused just long enough outside of the door to draw her knife, fingering the edge of the blade as she gripped the hilt tightly. Then she shoved aside the curtain with little ceremony, summoning all the authority she held as daughter of the ruler of the Isle into her voice.

“Jafar.”

A small bell chimed at the back of the shop and there he was, stooping and bowing as he shuffled forward, seeming only half aware of his surroundings.

“Yes, of course,” he murmured smoothly, still not looking at her. “What can I help….”

She knew right away when he noticed her because his words dropped off with a distinct, unpleasant noise, and when she glanced at him it was to catch a sneer curling his lips.

“What do you want, brat?” he growled dismissively at her, and Mal cocked a hip, placing a stern hand on it and glaring right back.

“I want your son,” she said lowly. “He hasn’t shown in two weeks and I’m sure you’re aware of the deal you made with my mother. I can’t learn if he’s nowhere to be found.”

Jafar muttered something in Arabic under his breath, and though Mal didn’t know what it was, she could infer that it was some kind of insult. Despite the less than warm reception, she noted a hint of something heavy- almost guilty- in his eyes as he glowered at her.

“I haven’t seen him either,” he muttered sourly, shuffling away to arrange a shelf. “Two weeks ago, I made an exchange with a certain mahrab…a sort of dealer, if you will.”
Mal’s eyes narrowed, honing in on the inflection in the way Jafar said the foreign word; the disdain and yet, again, that grieved sort of guilt; an anxiousness and disgust in his eyes as they dart away from hers.

“A trafficker, you mean,” she hissed, and Jafar stiffened defensively, but said nothing.

“Where is he now?” Mal demanded, taking a step forward and fingering the blade of her knife once more. “How do I know Jay isn’t dead in a gutter somewhere? Two weeks?”

She forced her tone to remain level despite the way her stomach and mind revolted at the idea of Jay in such a position. “Maybe I’ll tell my mother about this after all. I can’t imagine she would be pleased at finding out how you’ve gone back on your deal with her to strike up another one with someone else. I wonder…”

Her words were stopped abruptly by a blow across her face, the force of it snapping her head to the side. She gripped her knife a little tighter as she shot Jafar a murderous look, only to receive another blow and a hissed curse in Arabic in response.

“You little bitch,” he snarled, in English this time, and she idly wondered if what he had called her in Arabic had been worse.

It had certainly been longer, though she realized that now wasn’t the time to ponder over insults so much as decide if she really wanted to fight with Jafar right now. After dodging a third blow, she decided she didn’t, not if Jay was still missing in action. She complained internally, but sheathed her knife and lowered her eyes, dropping her hostile posture into something more submissive.

“I just want to know where Jay is,” she repeated slowly, though this time she made sure her voice held no malice, and kept her hands open and calm at her sides.

“The deal wasn’t meant to extend this long,” Jafar finally grumbled, but whether he was referring to his deal with the trafficker or the one he’d made with Maleficent, Mal didn’t know. “If he’s not still…he would mostly likely just continue with what he planned with you. I haven’t seen him, clearly,” Jafar gestured emphatically towards his bare shelves.

“I’ll make sure to remind him of that if I see him,” Mal muttered, but she was already checked out of the conversation. It hadn’t gotten her nowhere except to more frustration, though if Jafar was telling the truth about Jay’s own commitment to teaching her, then the only place he could be was the hideout.

Mal was gone from Jafar’s shop before the man had finished complaining about his stock, and only once she was tucked safely into an alcove and out of the street did she cup her stinging cheek.

“Asshole,” she grumbled, wincing at the shallow cut from the man’s ring.

The market was in full swing by the time she reached it, though everyone stayed well out of her way with one well placed, green eyed glare. She smirked to herself, and managed the trek to the hide out with no trouble. Which is what made her arrival at the hideout that much more disappointing when she discovered it empty. She snarled in disgust and leant over the railing, peering through the gaps between buildings and debated whether she dare go to her mother for help, when a sudden voice from down below jarred her from her brooding.

“Hey Mal.”

She straightened, and frowned down to see a familiar head of dirty blond hair tucked beneath a light blue cap; a bright yellow vest with far too many buckles to be functional.

“Gil,” she called back warily, shifting her weight so her casual lean was more defensive.

“Uma sent me to get you,” the boy said, smiling at her despite the hand that moved with clear intent towards the sword at his belt.

“Did she now?” Mal questioned disinterestedly, though her mind was racing, and she didn’t like the connections it was making.

“You’re not gonna make me climb all those stairs, are you?” Gil asked, frowning worriedly at the thought. “Cuz she’s been waiting a while and I don’t think….”

“What’s really going on here Gil?” Mal demanded, letting her eyes light with her frustration. Gil’s expression shifted suddenly into serious, his eyes dark as his frown deepened.

“We have Jay. And you know what happens to mainlanders who trespass into Uma’s territory.”

“I’ll be right down.”

Gil was silent as they walked through the narrow alleyways dividing the docks from the rest of the Island, though the various buckles and snaps on his clothing clicked and jingled obnoxiously, grating on Mal’s already fraught nerves.

“So,” she finally said, if only to break the silence. “What sort of mood is your boyfriend in today?” She made sure to put every bit of her disgust and hatred for Uma into the term, and Gil gave her a confused look out of the corner of his eyes.

“Huh?”

“Harry,” Mal growled, rolling her eyes. Gil’s mouth opening into an ‘oh’ shape, before suddenly snapping shut as she frowned at her again.

“Harry’s not my boyfriend,” he said slowly, then he blinked, as though realizing something himself. “Is he?”

Mal stifled a groan of frustration and tried to pick up the pace, but Gil had already stopped in the middle of the alley and was frowning at the space between the cobbles.

“I mean, I guess I could always ask him,” he murmured to himself, and Mal grimaced, shaking her head sharply.

“I don’t think that would end well for you,” she snapped harshly, and Gil blinked at the stones, pouting his lip in thought.

“Probably not,” he mumbled, still more to himself than her. “Maybe….”

He didn’t finish the thought, instead snapping his head up quickly and shuffling back to her side, his jaw resolutely clenched. Mal didn’t want to think of what ideas he might have come up with, but decided for her own sanity not to question him further. The pungent, salty stench of the ocean was starting to wash over them, and she watched as something tense and coiled in Gil’s body loosened, a soft relief filling his eyes, and she realized just how uncomfortable he truly had been on the ‘mainland.’

She didn’t have much time to analyze the thought as Gil whistled sharply between his teeth, and a small cohort of pirates materialized from nowhere and surrounded her, escorting them the rest of the way up onto the mangled pirate ship.

“Gil,” Mal warned, but the other boy was no longer focused on her, instead scanning the steadily growing pirate horde with warm, but hard brown eyes.

“Harry was smiling when he woke up today,” he informed her finally. “If that helps answer your question.”

“Sonofabitch,” Mal hissed sharply, just as a low, throaty chuckle rang out from the back of the pirate crew.

“I’d say it’s good to see you, Mal but…I try to be as honest as possible to set an example for my crew.”

“Afternoon to you, Shrimpy,” Mal fired back, and Uma slipped from between two pirates with a furious baring of her teeth.

“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you,” the smaller girl threatened, sword in hand. “Your little pal Jay might not appreciate any more bruising.”

“Where is he?” Mal snapped, lunging forward. It was too revealing, and Uma knew it too. The other girl grinned boldly as she leapt easily out of range, though it wasn’t really necessary as Gil instantly placed a hand on Mal’s shoulder; a quick, but firm squeeze all the warning she needed.

“Harry’s making him comfortable,” Uma murmured huskily, and Mal felt the fire light in her eyes even before she’d finished speaking.

"Give. Him. Back,” she demanded lowly, but Uma made a face, her eyes wide.

“You know I can’t do that,” the other girl said, and Mal was almost grateful for Gil’s hand on her shoulder, if only to keep her from killing his ‘captain’ in front of him. “Not without consequences; not just like that!”

“I swear…”

“Swear what?” Uma challenged, whipping her head around so viciously her hair snapped in a wave across her face. “We set the terms and you agreed to them. No mainlanders on the docks!”

“Newsflash, Uma,” Mal snarled, shaking off Gil’s hand and prowling forward. “We’re on an island. Everyone here is a ‘mainlander’; even you. So don’t try and give me some ‘ocean born’ bullshit when you can’t even reach the water!”

She knew right away she’d gone too far, even before Uma’s eyes hardened. If Gil’s eyes were warm in their brownness, Uma’s were the very coal they sparked from.

“Gil,” Uma said, her voice sharp and crackling with hatred. “If you’d be so kind.”

Mal felt her right leg buckle from under her, and she was falling heavily before she even felt the pain of the blow. She caught herself before the wooden deck could, but then pain hit her and she clamped her lips tightly around a scream.

“Sorry,” Gil whispered mournfully, and Mal hit the deck hard, her jaw aching as she clenched it even tighter.

“Sorry,” he mumbled again, his next blow catching her just below the ribs.

Mal scrambled for purchase and finally got her arms under her, shoving herself up to her feet just in time to avoid another blow. She whirled to face Gil with both fists raised defensively, and found that he’d nearly copied her stance, though his weight was more forward; one arm already cocked for another blow. His eyes met hers briefly, and she hated how horribly guilty and pained he looked, even as he swung forward with all his might.

“That’s enough Gil,” Uma’s voice said from somewhere far away.

Mal blinked hard as Gil came into focus, the other boy practically slumping with relief as he lowered his fists, his hands far more gentle as they shoved Mal back into a more upright position and casually remained around her arms until she was steady.

“’m really sorry,” he murmured again in her ear, which only further solidified her own guilt for pushing Uma too far, along with the fact that Gil really was just too…good…for the Isle.

“What do you want, Uma?” Mal snapped, though her previous hostility had (mostly) been knocked out of her.

Uma sauntered slowly across the deck towards her, a poisonous sort of half-smile on her face.

“What do I want?” The other girl repeated, that throaty laugh bubbling up in her throat, a dark gleam in her eyes. “Everything.” 

Chapter Text

Mal

“What do you want, Uma?”

“What do I want?” The other girl repeated, that throaty laugh bubbling up in her voice, a dark gleam in her eyes. “Everything.”

Mal glared fiercely, her lips twisting into a snarl. “Seems I’m fresh out of ‘everything,’” she fired back icily. “I meant what do you want right now? What do you want for Jay?”

Uma’s mouth twitched, something flashing behind her eyes. “Well that you’ll have to take up with Harry, Mal. I think he’s grown attached to your little…playmate.”

Mal swore harshly under her breath, and would have thrown herself at the other girl right then, except Gil gripped her shoulder and squeezed hard, so Mal’s lunge became more of a twitch. Uma laughed darkly, before turning her head and bringing her thumb and index fingers to her lips and whistling sharply. Something creaked deep beneath the deck, and a harsher laugh than Uma’s filtered up through the wood, the sound wild and free and entirely cruel. Gil’s grip on her fingers tightened even further, but it wasn’t necessary, as Mal had gone still at the sound, her own hand clenching into tight fists at her sides.

“Harry,” Uma called in a sing-song, her eyes flickering to take in Mal’s reaction before grinning. “Could you bring our guest up on deck, please?”

She seemed to emphasize the ‘please,’ as though this were Auradon, or a visit between friends and not sworn enemies. Harry’s voice murmured something that Mal couldn’t make out, but then the deck creaked harder in rhythm with a set of footsteps. Mal could hear Harry’s feet, but she couldn’t hear anything resembling a second set of footsteps, only a rough leaden creaking that echoed strangely and made her terrified for some reason.

That reason became clear as Harry shoved open a door, and threw something onto the deck. The thing splattered onto the wood, and even though Mal knew what it was-who it was- it still took her a moment to make out Jay. He was soaked to the bone and coughing up a disturbing amount of water, though Mal was relieved that it was just that. It didn’t make her happy, but she was relieved for that much, at least.

“Just keeping ‘im cold for ye,” Harry said with a brief laugh, and grin thrown in Uma’s direction.

“I thought it was s’possed to be warm,” Gil said, his fingers still clenched tightly around Mal’s shoulder. “Right? It’s ‘I was just keeping him warm…’”

Uma rolled her eyes and ignored the other boy, but Harry looked his way just long enough to wink, before placing a finger to his lips in a secretive, shushing gesture that made Mal that much more furious.

“So, Mal,” Uma drawled, strolling across the deck and nudging Jay hard in the side. “I guess the real question isn’t so much what I want for Jay, but what you will give for him.”