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CastVKs to make an appearance/mentioned: (In no particular order)-Uma - Daughter of Ursula- CJ Hook – Daughter of Captain Hook- Harry Hook – Son of Captain Hook- Harriet Hook – Daughter of Captain Hook- Freddie Facilier – Daughter of Dr. Facilier- Celia Facilier – Daughter of Dr. Facilier- Zevon – Son of Yzma- Yzla – Daughter of Yzma- Claudine Frollo – Daughter of Claude Frollo- Clay Clayton - Son of Clayton- Ginny Gothel – Daughter of Mother Gothel- Mad Maddie – Granddaughter of Madam Mim- Eddie Balthazar – Son of Edgar Balthazar-Red - Daughter of the Queen of Hearts-The Stabbington Cousins – Sons of the Stabbington Twins-Big Murphy - Son of Black Murphy AKs to make an appearance/mentioned as VKs;- Benjamin F. la Bête – Son of Adam la Bête- Audrey Rose – Daughter of Aurora Rose and Prince Phillip- Chad Charming – Son of Cinderella- Chloe Charming - Daughter of Cinderella- Jane – Daughter of The Fairy Godmother- Doug – Son of Dopey- Jordan – Daughter of the Genie OCs added;- Clementine Clayton – Daughter of Clayton- Aladar Slim - Son of Alameda Slim- Charlie Muntz – Grandson of Charles F. Muntz- Marlow Medusa – Son of Madame Medusa- Snipes – Son of Mr. Snoop- Henry Hans the second – Son of Hans Westergaard AKs to make an appearance/mentioned: (In no particular order)- Li Lonnie – Daughter of Fa Mulan and Li Shang- Ally – Daughter of Alice of Wonderland- Ruby Rider – Daughter of Rapunzel and Flynn Rider- Aziz – Son of Aladin and Jasmine VKs to make an appearance/mentioned as AKs;- Mal – Daughter of Maleficent- Evie – Daughter of the Ever Queen (Formerly Evil Queen)- Jay – Son of Jafar- Carlos de Vil – Son of Cruella de Vil- Jace Badun – Son of Jasper Badun- Harry Badun – Son of Horace Badun- Gaston Jr – Son of Gaston Legume- Gaston the third – Son of Gaston Legume- Gil - Son of Gaston Legume- Anthony Tremaine – Son of Anastasia Tremaine- Dizzy Tremaine – Daughter of Drusilla Tremaine- Hadie – Daughter of Hades OCs added;-Arely – Daughter of the Enchantress
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Benjamin Beast
Prince of the Isle
He bares his teeth
That isn't a smile
You'll soon discover
When he guts you open
at the feet of your motherBenjamin Beast
Lord of the terror
He's never seen his own face
‘Cause he cracks every mirror
Claws and teeth, tailed coiled
He drinks blood fresh
And eats eyeballs boiledBenjamin Beast
Run, run, run
The faster you go
The bigger his fun
With a belly always empty
Pick your biggest and strongest
To die as a sentryBenjamin Benjamin
Heir to the Beast
Dress your best now
You're invited to a feast
Come one, come all
Bring plates as clean as can be
Piled high, down they fall
Watch him while you swallow that drink
He's not a schemer you would think
Tomorrow they'll find your bodywhere the fish stink
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The little boy that scurries across the street clutches the bag stolen close to his chest.Between the stalls of the market he weaves, quickly losing his slow-footed pursuers to tight turns and a seemingly random path between visitors to the square. The pursuers, two clunky men dressed in garb those from the wharf wear are more used to leaping and crawling about the ship of the Pirate Hook than chasing prey in the city. The are suited to the sea, and this land pursuit finds them ill fitted for the job.They will not catch the boy, he muses. He watched the scene unfold as he has many times before. They lost this chase before it even started, the moment eyes twitched and the bag was gripped too tightly to be ignored as something with little value. It is almost comical; how much people give away when they try to say nothing. The boy has simply done what anyone else would do if they too could notice. Even he saw shoulders saying defense, eyebrows creased in lookout-searching-watching, mouths turned tightly with determination. All these things might mean nothing, for everybody who walk in places they shouldn't also make these signs with their bodies. But he knows better. Enemies with nothing do not nervously want to pat their pockets in reassurance, and pirates who do not carry valuables to trade do not clench bags in their fists.By the time they make it to where the boy was last, he will be gone. Even if they did see him slipping through a hole in the wall of sheet metal and lift a grate to slide down into the sewers, they will never see their bag again. As soon as it touched his hands the boy handed it off to someone else, a young girl who confidently strides across the stone, head high in pride, mouth upturned in sly-triumph. He knows the turn of her head, the angle of her neck, the slightly slouched stride. It is one of the Yzma spawn. She does not see him from where he stands. None of them do. He watches from a window cut into the wall over the market. He watches them like the birds outside the barrier watch them on the Isle. Interested, but ultimately bored. He prefers that they are unaware. Their oblivion is useful. Their bodies speak of secrets and things to hide that they have sworn to never talk to anyone about. Things that tingle nerves of excitement or pleasure.Like the sandy haired boy leaning against one of the stalls. In his hand lies a cane, tapered, with a silver cast bird head as the handle. He twirls the cane, eagerly trying to stave off boredom. His partner, who is inspecting and bargaining with the seller, is ignoring him. He has touched the knife sheathed under his overcoat twice. It will be coated with a poison not too different to ones his father used. The seller argues tiredly, long ago given up asking them to leave. They are both waiting. Their rather blatant display of confidence reeks of an anxious want. Cane wielder Charlie Muntz, grandson of the explorer Charles Muntz watches the crowd with dread and anticipation. His hitched shoulders speak to the watcher from above. They say worried-want-anxious-excitement. His fingers sing eager as they dance, to grip the cane and swing hard and fast. But he does not look up. Sheathed knife Eddie Balthazar, named Edward instead of Edgar like his father, contains his nerves better, mouth bargaining for better prices, hand resting on the lapel where the dagger is hidden. He feet tap impatient.All who pass avert their eyes.Like some spawn, /the stabbington kin, eyes hard, hands hard, strike harder/ they roam places on their own, no gang or group to follow or return to. Sometimes they are better off for it, the two of them. Today, he decides, will not be one of those times.They wait, every market day, by the same stall. Charlie twirling his cane, Eddie bartering a better price for home-baked biscuit. For three whole market days, they have been watching, bodies jumping between unease and certainty. Audrey has been snapping into his ear about them since they arrived. Jane’s web heard them coming weeks ago. Predicted that they'd shift with the withdrawing of the tide of the eldest Hook. He likes it when she is right.His own hands twitch in anticipation, his claws of bone and steel sharp and secure. They have scarred many a foe, and swiftly gutted threats. They will do the same to many more. He watches alone. The half-faei awaits his signal across the square. He must be brutal, unyielding to make them understand. The watcher spares one last look at them, then rises from his seat. With clawed hands he reaches back and pulls the beanie down lower. Two horns grow from the beanie, curved, sharp, and as much a part of him as the claws. They are his heritage.He is, after all, heir of the Beast. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Anticipation frizzles down Charlies' spine as she struts down main street. Back straight, face immaculate and hair flawless, she is the envy of the Isle. Her smile is polite, her gaze unyielding and her tongue well versed in proper conversation and the art of speaking between the lines. She is a negotiator by nature, preferring the battle of spoken wit over the bloodshed of arguments. She has turned him down more than once with a single glance.Finally, she is here. Audrielle Rose, heir to a kingdom burned down walks the square as if she owns the place, hair thrown over her shoulder, leather skirt swaying with each step and the angle of her chin reeking of the unearned confidence of being on top. Charlie could jump out of his skin out of excitement. Ever since the sea slug Harriet Hook got knocked down a peg, the vacancy at the top of the food chain has been chafing at him endlessly.Vendors pour from their stalls. They are eager to appease, yet they go no closer than two, three steps. This is a rule harshly enforced by the reach of her fire-poker. They stumble backwards as she strides past. Some back up into one another, babbling and calling out prices and encouragements. He feels sick at the sight of it. Their hands hold out their wares, trembling as she inspects them. She barely points a finger and Claudine Frollo; her servant girl, totes a basket dolling out coin and filling it with everything her mistress desires."She brought the Miss Frollo along I see." Eddie whispers, inspecting merchandise on the table.Charlie slips his gaze to the young dull girl following her, head down, dutifully filling the basket. Frollo’s been working her hard."We anticipated as much. Nothing changes.""Agreed. Watch out for her acid.""You watch out."He loses sight of them between the stalls as they round the corner, flickers of pink and gray and cruel eyes between slats of wood and recycled tin. Her hair flashes and he remembers Ginny's desire whispered one close night, to gather it all and slice it off, a handful of the 'Princess of the Isle' in her palm./How unique that would be/He watches as she rounds the turn, striding uninterrupted into full view. She's heading their way. The lace of her top taunts him. Such vulnerable skin so casually exposed. When she strides by the only thing stopping him from reaching out and sliding his hand across her collarbone, feeling the thin fabric between finger and flesh, would be the white scar curving down her neck./Slut/Eddie unsheathes the poisoned knife, keeping it close to his chest, and Charlie can almost imagine it plunging through her heart. He keeps his gaze ahead feigning disinterest, the cane still flipping in his fingers.She's close enough now that he can see the white of her eyes, her hands delicately clasped.His cane, specifically reinforced, feels welcome in his palms as he grips it tighter.Today, they are changing history.They charge, Eddie raising the knife to strike Audrey, Charlie swiping his cane at Claudine Frollo. Though it pained him, it was agreed that Eddie was strongest, and more likely to succeed in piercing Audrey's flesh. Charlie could handle little Claudine.They did not even make it close. Charlie was two steps from Claudine, cane already bearing down when her hand flicked out and suddenly his face was wet, and the wet was burning. His eye was boiling in his socket, his skin was eating itself and the flesh of his cheeks tore themselves open. A blow aimed from the famous fire poker blasted into his face. He stumbled backward.Fire. Fire was eating him. Fire. /FIRE WAS EATING HIM/. He clawed at his face, gripping the cheek that was melting off of his skull. Screaming, he gripped the cane harder, fingernails digging into his palm, drawing blood and swung wildly at any shape he could make out.Ed. Ed, where was Ed?!Soft shapes blurred in and out of vision.
Then there was a blade at his throat. He dropped the cane.Fuck.Eddie was next to him, both on their knees, frantically trying to staunch his gaping bleeding stomach. Charlie sat motionless, waiting. The acid was still eating at his face. Fuck. Shit. Shitting shit. What the fuck? What the fuck was that?Oh.Oh no, please, no, fuck, please.The square had mostly emptied, save a few curious and trapped onlookers unwilling to draw attention to themselves. Eddie's wet breaths sounded so loud when everything was so quiet.Then the the rattling came. Charlie could hear from behind slow heavy footsteps, and the horrible screeching of bone and steel dragged along the side of one of the tunnels leading to the market. Very few things made such a sound. Sometimes the engines of the grounded airship grinded whenever his grandfather tried to get her afloat again, or Mad Maddy carved spells into stone with bones stolen from Shere Khans' heap. But this? This was worse.Charlie hadn't met those claws before, but he saw what they did to Aladar Slim.Eddie must've heard them too, because he started blubbering, coughing up blood as the tears on his cheeks twinkled in the sunlight. Charlie couldn't make it out. It wouldn't make a difference. Slowly the footsteps rounded them. Out of the corner of his one good eye, Charlie could make out the blue stained boots./We're going to die/Snot dribbled from his nose, the boiling eye spewing tears. He would not look up. No matter what, he would not look up. He learned that from Aladar.The grinding didn't stop until the boots stopped, finally interested in the weeping, blubbering two of them. Ben would know that this was his idea, but Eddie...Eddie was the one with the knife. Eddie should've killed himself with the knife./Shit, the knife./The blade dug deeper into his throat.
/Shit, where was the knife?/
He swallowed."Look at me, Muntz boy."What? No, no no no no no!Fingers tangled in his hair and yanked him backwards. He screwed his eyes. The blade pressed harder. Shit.Slowly he peeled open the good eye."P-please-"With a tall frame and shoulders growing broader each passing day, he is a sight to behold and fear. On each of his fingers, sharp claws the length of Charlie's pinkie are fashioned from bone and steel. But this is not what makes him afraid. Benjamin's face is shadowed by the sun with fearsome horns, but in the darkness, Charlie can make out eyes flashing."P-p-please-"The eyes do not move. They are like the eyes in his grandfather's journals of big cats, stalking. They regard him as though he is something to eat. As though he is prey.His good eye begins to tear up.They are the eyes of a Beast. They are the last things Charlie sees before a hand is lifted, and the blow renders flesh to darkness. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Blood drips from the claws pattering on the cobble, slow, thick.His heart thump thump thumps, intertwined with Audrey's’ shrieks at Claudine in the background.Copper in his nose, the distinct smell of acid disintegrated flesh on his tongue.The half-faei studies the body intensely. They both know it is not a clean kill. When life shocks back into him, he will no doubt die again. A conundrum repeated again and again. Fitting /intended/, for the time being, at least until someone takes enough pity.He glances at the Balthazar boy, felled under a servant's blade. The cut is clean, blood pouring into the morning light, the soft flesh of the belly the most vulnerable. They have their own scars to prove it.His nostrils flare. Chad's shoulders are relaxed, his blade casually glinting in its sheath, fixing the collar of his jacket, tentative relief in the lines of his body. His eyes watch the shadows intently. Jane crouches, feet tucked together, to examine the poison dagger. He does not like the way her fingers stiffly brace against her knees.Audrey's voice stops droning in the back of his head. Her babbling ceases. Her cue for them to leave.His nose wrinkles.With a dirty boot he shoves the body onto its stomach, blood gushing in the cracked cobble. Audrey squeals, for the benefit of the staring crowd. In one swift move, he fists the rotted wooly collar, and flips the body onto his shoulder. They have a delivery to make. He exits the market through the same tunnel Charlie and Eddie sauntered in from. He does not need to see them to know that they are there. Chad at his flank, whistling at a girl in the rapidly dispersing crowd. Audrey at his shoulder, leaning into his stride. Jane at his back, soft tumbling steps, great cloak barely swaying.The witnesses today will carry the tale far, that someone will come for Eddie still splayed in the market. By the time they come back, he will be gone.They've got bigger fish to fry. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Across the water in Auradon there is also a watcher. At the top of her mother's great castle, another half-faei observers the goings on of the world below. Wind sweeps and tumbles in strands of amaranth, green eyes flashing vividly at the sight of the magick wood dancing alongside her hair. This air current promises dancing and diving and chasing in its grasp, if only she would leap from the roof of the tower, if only she would step into the air, unfurling her wings. Were this the beginnings of last semester, the need would be so great Mal can imagine her heart stopping if she were not to obey.But she does not. Twisting into a dragon now would undo all the practice over the summer. Ahead lies a grueling school year with minimal breaks, and control over the urge to boil fire and burn down algebra classroom 4d is essential. The whole of the summer break has been about tumbling in fields with the faeiries and attempting to swim with the nymphs and spending as much time as possible twisted into dragon-self having battle with the tree giants and hunting with the griffins. Dragon-self is still eager after all these weeks, but Mal feels a contented tiredness for now. Enough, at least to be less frustrated.The wind, as if sensing her disinterest, goes to play and tempt somewhere else. Just over a week is left before school kicks back up again. Evie's mom, the Ever Queen, would have expected Evie to be on campus at least a fortnight before Introduction Day to 'prepare for campus life and socialization'. Carlos will have no doubt spent the holiday tinkering away at the 3D printer in his and Jay's room, and Jay would have been sitting next to him talking shit the whole time.They will all have received the invitationMal isn't exactly sure what to think about it. Children, on the Isle. Children borne of their parents’ greatest enemies. Children raised no doubt to hate./What exactly were the Auradinians expecting with that one? That everybody trapped behind a magical barrier would simply all agree to abstinence with nothing else to do? /Mal finds her eyes turned towards the barrier, and the wind returns to race against her face. Barely bigger than the head of a needle, eyes drawn to magick and borne to see far can make out a soft yellow glow on the horizon. Magick stronger than she had ever managed to cast in her entire life, that even Mother alone could not achieve breathing in and out, doing its duty. Born part faei, the magick burns like a candle in the dark even during daylight in her sight. Swirling with the intent of all its creators.She will meet people from inside of it. People trapped under it, their children.The wind is eager now, teasing her under her jacket, whistling in her ears.
come play-just one more?
/Children punished by suffering/Mal leans over the lip of the tower, wondering if she could make this one last flight worth the excitement of winding herself up again.Probably not.She leaps anyway.
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The Muntz boy isn’t particularly heavy, but he still wants to keep a fast pace. Walking down a main street in broad daylight means nothing. The side streets, the coiling little back alleys, if anything, are safer. But them, together, forms a vicious animal. The language their formation speaks, screams stay clear. The pack provides a shadow that he’s never been happier to cast. Today, he’s grateful for it.The thump thump thump scratching at the base of his skull has flared up as it usually does with the unsheathing of the claws. Still, this is no excuse to linger. Façades don’t last.The blood dripping down his back will stain the leather, dyed and stitched by Audrey, who will be very unhappy. The set typically worn for battle, stashed away. The Muntz boy mustn’t be dealt with as a threat, more as a mild annoyance. Though mild annoyances very rarely receive house visits like the one they are about to pay.The docks are rife with rotted wood and wharf-rats hiding behind barrels to jump anything walking by. Standing one’s ground here requires a direct approach. Their reputation was cultivated to provide for such instances. This doesn’t loosen his grip on the boy and Jane shifts to the inside of the pack. Ursula's shop is ramshackled at the end of the wharf. Crossing the bounds from stone to wood, they enter unsure territory.The jovialities inside the fish and chip joint dip as the swing door slams open. Audrey struts in from the doorway, heeled boots knocking on the hollow floor. Customers slumped against the bar pivot themselves upright at the sight of her swaying skirt. Leering eyes follow her path. A hand reaches out.With little warning he strikes.Twisting, the finger wenches out of the socket. Rolling her eyes as the man slumps back screaming, cradling his hand, Audrey plants herself in the middle of the room. Her patron moaning in pain leaves the sea-witch at the bar unaffected. She rhythmically polishes something in her grasp, dumping the finished utensil back in a plastic tub. Her crew creeps closer, watching them with a threatening causality.His presence shifts the atmosphere.“You motherfucker! You motherfucker, she’s just a who-”Grasping the back of the man’s neck chokes him off. He swallows harshly against the claws. Benjamin can feel the trembling in his fingers. The tv snow fills the empty noise poorly. The blaring propaganda has died down. Dragging a dead body inside is enough to make them a threat and a target all the same.Though, in this place, he will never be anything else.Jane hovers just behind him, hidden by his height.
Audrey suddenly finds her nails particularly interesting. Leaning against him, she taunts loudly.
"Poison and knives are so out of style. But what can you expect from someone who's never been in."
Audrey's subtly hits like a brick. The quiet atmosphere twists intensely. Her eyes flicker to Uma. The sea-witch stiffens her knees, staring uninterested at the dented tin mug in her limp grasp. He imagines her casting a sideways glance to her first mate, who borders between keeping in her field of vision and covering her turned back.He wants to pull his lips back, flashing teeth at the middle Hook child. Harry leans sideways with his head, his mad smile hiding in the corners of his mouth, his hand white-knuckling the hook, dangerous. Though the Hook siblings weren't close, Harriet had coveted a strange loyalty with her kin.
He doesn't know how Harry took her downfall."Did ya nah see the sign?"
One, two steps closer. Feet flat, his hiding smile transformed into a full sneer, excited.
"We don't serve animals, unless were carving up Beast, if ya know what I mean."His eyes linger a moment too long on her neck.
Audrey leans closer. Her hip brushes against his.
His fingers itch. The hammering at the base of his skull screams for something.
"Now now Harry." Uma turns leaning on the counter, cloth thrown over a shoulder. "You know we don't play with our food." The crew chuckles, tension eased tentatively, power shifted.
THUD
The whole bar jumps as Benjamin drops the Muntz boy, cracking against the floor. Uma remains still.
/The upper hand is his/Benjamin grew up under a father that didn’t know the boy wandering the castle for the first three years of his life was his son. He lived by the reach of Harriet’s cutlass and lost his naivety early enough to know that there is no such thing as an unjustified blow. Every action, regardless of how small, must be answered by an even bigger reaction. Failure to do this means losing an edge. Losing an edge is weakness. Weakness is worse than death. Thus:Action- The Muntz boy wants to humiliate them, by killing Audrey.Reaction- The Muntz boy dies.
/This is unavoidable. It must be enforced/
The poison that coats the blade is not his. Muntz prefers brutal blows, hence the iron rod of a cane. The Balthazars, while known for poisons and draughts, detest knives. A third party then, must be invested. One that provided the knife. Jane’s examination of the blade proved a theory, and seeing the bright blue leather and seaweed weaving on the handle, the answer is suspiciously obvious. The sea-witch.
He extends his hand and wordlessly Jane places the offending dagger in his palm. The grip is small in his hand. He raises it high enough to catch the glinting bottled light. The slick blade shines. These spectators require a show. He rams it into the man’s chest. A sickeing cracking sound is followed by coughing. A gasp burbles from the gaping wound as he wrenches the blade out in a wide arc from his chest to his hip. Without pausing, he turns, places the blade in his open mouth, and wipes the same poison onto his tongue.
Harry grins outright. The sea-witch scoffs, tongue in her cheek. Her watching has become steadier now that they're both older. Now that the rules between them are clear. Her rolling gaze betray interest. Her body language has always been guarded, but Uma's nervousness leaks from her eyes. They pinch familiarity and crease surprise.She recognizes the blade.
/She should/
She's confused that it's in his grasp.
/She shouldn't be. This is unexpected/Harry’s manic stare quickly turns to a sneer.“Was that supposed tah do something-”Benjamin loosens his grip as the man starts convulsing, foaming blood pouring from his mouth, the gaping wound weeping a sickly green mucus. Harry immediately jumps back, stepping in front of Uma. No one utters a sound beside the man’s limbs jerking against the driftwood table.Their eyes grow wide, masks slipping. Uma’s gaze flicks to him with morbid anticipation, to see if he will drop dead next.A trickle of blood pools between his lips. The air is baited as it forms a single drop traveling down. They follow his tongue as it peaks out just in time to stop the drop from becoming a drip.In the corner of his eye Audrey offers a small smirk. She’s always liked counting her eggs before they rot.When it becomes evident that he’s still standing, Uma scoffs tongue in cheek.The thrumming becomes insatiable as the blood settles beneath his tongue.
/They are done here. /
“Harriet is done Squidy. Careful you don’t get caught in the same net.”Her nose screws up.“You are so sure you’re free from the hook aren’t you.”Audrey smiles placatingly sweet. “It’s okay if you haven’t caught on yet! Scurvy is a thing you know.”Daring to turn his back on her and Harry, Audrey and Jane follow him out of the swing doors. He imagines her voice echoing something behind them, but the scratching thump thump thump drums through his entire body, drowning out anything else <><><><><><><><><><><><> Even with Chad covering them from behind, Jane navigates them through side tunnels. Getting out of wharf-rat territory requires a different strategy than boldly walking in and announcing their arrival. Uma’s reaction to the knife was wrong. She’ll be sending spotters after them, to follow. He’s not that worried, but precautions are to be taken. Audrey remains unfamiliar with these back ways. Her Grandmother keeping the whole family locked up for years has always put her at a distinctive disadvantage. Jane knows these walkways and gaps like they are carved into her bones. He trusts her lead better than anyone, especially now.His head thrums excitedly, vision slightly blurring at the edges. Audrey keeps close, hands never quite touching, in step as much as can be with his pace. He focuses on the way her hair sways. The way pink and blue shifts between the lighter strands. He dug the bleach out from the barge himself. The smell was so strong his eyes threatened to water as brown was replaced by a pale blonde. At his back Chad silent. All three of them wait in anticipation for a shrill whistle indicating contact of some kind. It doesn’t come.Their chosen path leads them out to a named street, which they cross only to enter the maze again. Their hideout is hidden deep in territory hard won. He and Chad had suggested it. They’d been stripping pipes for copper, stumbling across an apartment forgotten and abandoned. A corner of the roof collapsed, and paint was flaking because of the humidity, but the four walls stood strong and most importantly, hidden.Now the space was theirs.Audrey grasps her fire poker, and finding a small slit in the exposed brick, stabs it in until something clicks. Glancing over her shoulder, she twists the handle.Clicks softly echo. They reverberate through Benjamin’s teeth. A ladder slowly descents form above. It barely reaches her waist before Audrey jumps on. She glances back at him, a small smile on her lips before ascending. Gripping the railing, he positions himself in front of Jane. Her eyes search every corner. There is no guarantee that they are truly alone. Chad rounds the corner at a paced jog, strides easy, and her shoulders slacken. They’re in the clear for now.Chad as the last one up secures the ladder. Benjamin strains his ears, listening for anything out of the ordinary. No footsteps thunder outside, no strides loitering where they stood mere seconds ago. Unnoticed. Audrey’s chatter filters back in.“Okay, so I’m not the only one suspicious about this right?” He closes his eyes, reaching out towards it, only half registering the conversation.“Suspicious? About the fact that the wharf rats might be involved? Never!”His bones snap back into their joints.“Shut up Chad, you know what I mean.”His feet are on the good solid ground.“Nothing was mentioned about it, though-” Jane glances toward him “Charlie and Eddie were explicitly mentioned by name.”The subtext is obvious. The Muntz and Balthazar boys were obviously set up. Uma is to be viewed as a hidden party, perhaps the one setting the pitfall. But her surprise at the knife is wrong. Supplying them with a knife so obviously hers is wrong. Uma is happy to be blunt when it suits her, but would she risk soliciting an offence from them? They’ve never clashed like that before. Territories lie between them, not ones they’d be too willing to cross or ally for the sake of spiting the other. A statement then? Jane echoes his thoughts.“A power play? Showing the others that she isn’t afraid to bite the hand on top?”Audrey shakes her head: “She’d have stuffed the market to the brim. More witnesses to see her victory”Chad counters: “Someone let something shake the tree branch, doesn’t mean it’s Uma. Even if it was, she wouldn’t have made direct contact with them. Plausible deniability in case it went horribly south. They’re idiots with bad tempers and without the patience of their fathers.”Schemes of the Century enters his mind. Dr Facilier had made the lesson perfectly clear. Every scheme requires the perfect patsy, either to take the blame, or to elevate your standing by their own failure. Better yet, if you can convince that patsy that the idea is theirs, they’ll do most of the work for you at their own expense. Question is, who’s setting up their patsy, and would it be Uma?
/Would it not be? There’s too much history for this to be anything else. Uma likes digging pits. /
Silence permeates for a minute. Audrey instinctively runs her finger along the scar on her throat. He wants to reach out, to take her hand in his, to stop her from worrying at the mark.“Does it matter? It was an attempt, a late one at that. Not something we weren’t expecting.”“Jane’s right. We get ruffled like this we might as well go drown ourselves at Harriet’s doorstep.”, Chad agrees as he flops down on their old couch, angling himself toward their newspapered window. Jane glides her fingers over the jagged stone blade. Chad snatches it from her loose grasp, testing the sharpness.‘There’s nothing on it right? It’s completely clean.”Jane nods, pulling out a rag damp with the substance she wiped off of the blade. She barely had a second to do it behind his back, something risky considering that they hadn’t at all practiced. “Nightshade and Grimroot I think, though I’ll have to check mom’s tome. It would’ve easily killed even Ursula’s bulk.” Mention of her shifts the atmosphere, before it snaps back.Benjamin takes his own armchair seat. The stitching on the armrest pokes out where he picked the threads loose. The plastic crunches, Audrey’s attempt at keeping the seat cushions more or less clean. “You didn’t swallow the pod, right?” He shakes his head.Reaching fingers into his mouth, he pulls out a plastic capsule bitten open. The remains of the newts-blood coats his fingers and runs off his tongue. Jane offers her palm and tucks the capsule away. Audrey’s idea, that the son of the Beast would be so strong to be somewhat impervious to even the deadliest of poisons. Chad pulls a face.“You’re a vicious animal bro.”Benjamin bares his coated teeth. The blood is bitter and warm, thinner than he anticipated. It settles in the corners of his mouth and he can feel a drip crawling down his chin. Chad’s grimace turns to a sly grin. Dragging out a dented bottle from under the couch cushion., he chucks it at Benjamin. The water sloshes heavily.“Wicked.”Audrey rolls her eyes, “Wickedly disgusting, maybe.”In one swift move she settles on his armrest, knees on his lap. One arm thrown over his shoulder rests against his back. She must feel him pulling away because she shifts her hand to adjust the beanie. She’s never liked it.“Vicious?” Her thumb wipes the drip. The tip of her nail rests on the inside of his lip. “Utterly.” The scar is front of him is spiderweb thin, yet so stark against her neck. Elegant, beautiful almost. He presses a knuckle against it. Audrey shudders under the touch, relieved. A promise kept another day.Like a whirl wind she leaps up, declaring today a worthy diary entry.He can hear her opening lockers and pawing through drawers. Chad stretches languidly over the couch. Jane tucks the knife between the cushions. The ratty purple cover has seen better times. It was here before they were. Everything else was dragged up, this armchair, Audrey's ‘chaise longue’ as she insists, the shared worktable. Though Jane bathed them all with the strongest herbs she could find, the distinct barge smell persists.The Den has become their greatest asset, the safest four walls that can be wrestled from the Ilse’s grasp. Here plans are laid, maps drawn up. Here fire can be waited out, the fury of parents hidden from.“Ungh, where did you freaks put my diary?”Chad directs a taunting smile at Jane. Balanced on her knees is the heavily bejeweled pink cover. She pages without reading, throwing obvious glances toward Audrey. At the sight of them Benjamin feels a guilty satisfaction.“You festering pustules! Give it back!”Audrey launches herself at Jane, annoyed more than anything. She’s not nearly fast enough. The half-faei slips out of her grasp before the fallen princess even lands a chipped manicure hand. A reminder that she isn’t quite like them. Something that doesn’t matter on this part of the Isle. “Jane!”She relents and lets herself be tackled into the pile of old pillows in the corner. A screech of distress rises. Chad sighs, plugging in the glue gun on the work table. Something somewhere will need to be stuck back, maybe with even more shine. Red-faced Jane holds back a chuckle as Audrey lectures in her royal voice. He doesn’t bother listening in.Harriet Hook’s great red coat lies dejected under the turned-on lamp. Benjamin can practically hear the swishing as she used to do her rounds. Nicks are littered at the bottom where her bare cutlass pressed against the tail. It’s not a bad trophy. He’s pleased with it.
/Why isn’t it hung on the wall? Why haven’t they paraded with it outside, instead of hiding their victory like this? /
Audrey, seemingly having abandoned her diary on a nearby table, twirls in the heavy fabric.“I’m so gonna wear it to Ravage this year.”The look over her shoulder at Benjamin says enough. They’ll need to make an entrance. She’ll no doubt wrangle them into something new and splashy as well.“It’s not sparkly enough.” Jane snorts, dusting herself off. The cloak shimmers slightly in the damp light.“I know, I picked out some great pieces to add this morning. Some blue rhinestones for the cuffs will look cute don’t you think?” Something in her tone changes. “She’ll be so humiliated.”Chad scoffs. “I can’t imagine her even showing up.”This earns him a sharp glare. Hands up in surrender he scoffs.“Better put a big rose on the back then. Don’t want Benjamin thinking you’re wearing her coat because you’re wearing her coat”Blush creeps up her cheeks before disgust turns her face. Her fingers trail at the scar. Benjamin can feel his own eyes threatening to roll. He rises form the creaking chair and strides over. Leaning over her, he fixes the skewed collar. Her hands hover over his waist, hesitant. The warmth between them is pleasant.He practically whispers.“Blue rhinestones will be beautiful.”
/ I won’t stop providing. /
She replies in turn.“I’ll put some on your cuffs too. Only a new jacket would be fitting.”
/Neither will I./
A small afternoon is spent in reliable company. He closes his eyes as he lounges in the chair. His fingers itch less, the claws shed for the time being. Jane pulls out her own journal, no doubt inking this new poison into its pages. The grand cloak lies open. Her bone white legs look too thin in the sweeping fabric. They pretend not to notice the blackened bruising on her calves. Chad stiffly stands as a model while Audrey begins pinning and planning new patterns.There is for a moment a pure unburdened peace. It does not last long.Chad launching a complaint about a pin sticking him ends with Audrey tossed on the couch under Jane as Benjamin wrestles being torn from the armchair. Chest heaving, lungs aching with how good it feels not to worry for this small moment is interrupted by a slit of golden light filtering through a gap in the newspaper. Though their parents oft leave them to their own devices, some of their quartet are kept under lock and key. An agreement is made about a meeting place tomorrow. Audrey fixes her hair. Jane folds herself back into the cloak.The Great Fairy Godmother expects polite behavior.They stick together until a main street comes across before breaking apart. The half-faei and son of a mad heiress make way to the Hangman’s Apothecary. The fallen princess is escorted by heir to the Beast in the other direction, to Gargoyle Grotto. - He waits on the corner of the street, watching Audrey walk up to the storied house. There’s a reason he’s not exactly welcome near the grotto. Curtains twitch, and the front door is eagerly thrown open at her approach. Already her shoulders tense as Aurora stumbles outside eagerly aiming to embrace her daughter. Audrey reflectively shoves her away. Aurora turns tearful, pointing at her. Benjamin grinds his jaw. She struggles with being fully present at the best of times.Only then does he spot the basket Claudine toted earlier this morning shaking in her grasp.Audrey glances back at him.Her eyes roll searching, her shoulders pushed back, worried.
/Claudine is gone. She doesn’t know where. He does/
-
He wasn’t the one who appeared when Benjamin knocked on the church doors, rather someone who they sent after slamming the door closed in his face. The lackey, a young boy, spits at him in French. His grip on Claudine is tight, bony fingers digging into her thin arm. With a finger pointing outrage and a wide stance, confident, the cloister boy is smug. His French rapid fires, but Benjamin catches enough to get the gist.
“Frollo spotted her outside this morning, way outside the agreed bounds! You jeopardize the position of her caretakers with such blatant tomfoolery. What else can be expected from such bestial spawn? Those mistresses of yours will have to tithe double for the trouble caused.”
Keeping his face blank, he risks a glance at Claudine. Shivering, her hair has slipped out of her scarf. Where her shift has torn, the beginnings of a bruise peeks above the collar. She won’t look him in the eye./She won’t look him in the eye/To emphasize his point, the cloister boy jerks and shakes her like a beggar shakes his can for coins. The thrumming in the back of his head ceases. With a clear mind, his arm strikes out and his hand wraps around the boy’s throat. His fingers squeeze. His tongue moves, forming unfamiliar words in his birth tongue.“Tell me, church mouse, does Frollo know how deep your hands dip in the collection box?”The boy’s eyes widen, free hand grasping and struggling with Benjamin’s grip. Benjamin can feel his pulse, throat desperate to swallow.“F-filthy m-m-m-onster my hands are c-clean!”The hand tightens. Air chokes and his eyes flash fear.
“What do you want? Anything! I’ll give you anything! I’ll share the collection box with you!”
The boy releases Claudine, both hands clawing at his arm. She tumbles mercilessly to her knees.“I don’t like liars, and you have lied to me.” Benjamin watches him tinge into a pale purple color. His fingers do not relent. “Frollo hasn’t set one holy foot outside since the Hellfire. You steal the lamb you gave me out of greed.” The boy’s eyes bulge. His tongue peeks out between his teeth. It would be so easy to just crush the windpipe. He would just have to press down./She won’t look him in the eye/The boy unceremoniously drops from his grasp.
“Every week you’ll tithe me a fifth of your collection box for your sin, the most egregious sins of a liar. If you don’t, you will understand that this is hell”
Gasping, the boy nods furiously. He looks toward Claudine.“Begone, church rat.” Benjamin snaps. The boy hastily scrambles away. The open door at his back enters his mind. They’re exposed in enemy territory with people willing to coat knives in poison and die under his claw. The thrumming returns, decreased to a hum. He’s tired. He can feel himself slagging, his ears on full alert, straining far and wide. They’ve got to go. Claudine still slumps. Her hands clasp each other.She shies away as he reaches for her. A pang shoots into his chest.
/No weakness/
“Come” He pulls back, “We’re late”He gives her a moment, before turning. Her shift ruffles, stumbling after him. They are given a wide berth back to Gargoyle Grotto. <><><><><><><><><><><> He remembers stories, back from when Lumiere and Cogsworth still spoke to one another. About how the Enchantress trapped the Beast inside the castle after nearly a four-year man hunt, and not wanting her greatest mistake to escape, exerted her magic to lift the entire prison and materialize it on the Isle, inside an even bigger prison.It was all for show, Lumiere insisted, she was under big pressure to fix things, Cogsworth explained.The story is of course told in The wrong course of History as taught by Yzma, but Ben never felt the need to pass the class. Mrs. Pots was there, Chip was old enough to know what was going on, Lumiere and Cogsworth gave Benjamin the greatest first-hand accounts one could, even if Yzma failed his paper for not including testimony from the subject of the essay.The rest of the story most everybody knows, that once upon a time, The Great Enchantress united the Kingdoms and Empires and Governments under the banner of the United States of Auradon, offering them leadership in exchange for loyalty. Her first act had been to exercise her great powers and cast all evil from the land. Over the years the Isle became filled with the worst of the worst, the rot of the root, and for more than two decades they’ve been stuck under the magical barrier cast by none other than the Enchantress.That the Enchantress, in her fury, transported the entire castle of the Beast, came to be a great blessing and a great curse, pun intended. Most of the towers remained intact, though the roof collapsed shortly after and the south wing was just missing. The library, however, had it perhaps the worst in Benjamin’s opinion.He doesn’t remember a time when the shelves weren’t collapsed and the bookshelves didn’t precariously lean to the side, loose pages covering the splintered floor. Windows were smashed and tables overturned, first editions and ancient tomes cracked open and ripped apart, though this damage wasn’t caused by the journey. Adam never really got over Belle not wanting the Beast.Though most nights he trudges to the castle, Benjamin doesn’t have a room here. Slipping around the side and over a still existent stone wall, Benjamin softly opens up the lid of an outside coal bin. He stills for a moment.Though no one would ever dare come this close to the castle, there are still the occupants of the castle to look out for. Silence. Then a door slams, someone muttering under their breath. Shouting rises next door and he hastily pulls out the false bottom. He drops into a short tunnel and closes the lid, crouching to fix the bottom of the bin. The tunnel is damp and dark, moonlight not reaching past the slatted wood.He waits for a moment, trying to calm down the humming. It spikes in the dark, rising to the top of his skull. His eyes adjust. His ears peak, straining for any sound. His shuffling forward is slow. No one should know about this entry way, but there is no guarantee that the tunnel isn’t filled with traps.Today has proven that they are in fact real targets.He reaches a hand out and feels the stone of the end of the tunnel. Thankfully, it’s clear. Running a knuckle along the roof, he feels an indentation, and pressing up with his palms the stone lifts. The hole opens up into the base of the south tower. His tower.Moonlight streaming in from missing stones lights the room. He surveys for a second, listening to the air settle and the dust swirl. No heart beats but his own. The breath stuck in his chest loosens. The humming settles back into his teeth. It never really leaves, not with his father somewhere beyond the walls. He climbs up and places the stone back, careful to not get fingers caught in the dark.Here in this space, something inside him unfurls. The effort of keeping the crawling and thrumming at bay eases. His bones no longer stiff with the effort of walking and functioning. These stone walls hold fury from everything out there and everything inside here. He leans forward into a crouch.Today could have gone differently.If Audrey hadn’t acted so quickly, if Chad hadn’t been so keen eyed, if Jane hadn’t warned them. If Claudine hadn’t put herself at risk.Ifs.All reactions and actions, offences and defenses in turn. This, this is how it is, how it has always been. How it always will be. The strangely rigid rules of an ungovernable system. He who bites the hardest, outmaneuvers the smartest and becomes crueler than the wicked, is he, who at the end of the day, survives. This is unending.
/This is unsustainable. About this, there is nothing to be done. /
/They are on top. By his name they look down on everyone else. Even Harriet defended her place, until he carved the rules into the claws that gutted her. /
No hesitation. Hesitation spawns weakness./He refuses to regret it; they knew the prey they were taking down/He sheds the jacket and long-sleeve, grasping in the dark at a pile of fabric. This shirt smells clean enough. Pulling it over his head, fingers catch on the missing flesh of the knotted scar on his shoulder. The memory flashes. His throat might be clean, but the rest of him will never be.
/No hesitation. /
He doesn’t bother taking off his pants as he aims for a pile of blankets and pillows. Benjamin collapses into the nest. Hooking his fingers into the moth-eaten holes of the blanket, he pulls it over his shoulder, careful to avoid the old wound. He slides a hand under the pillows and feels relief at wrapping his hand around the hidden pipe. One ear pitches itself toward the tingling air. Secondary awareness settles in for the night, allowing some relief. Every shadow remains within eyesight. Curling with his back to the wall, Benjamin stares at the crumbling roof, until his mind slips into fitful slumber. (){ }() + (){ }()
He doesn’t remember the forest ever growing so green. He almost doesn’t recognize Shere Khan’s trail of bones hidden in the high grass. Looking out to the open plain, Alameda Slim’s cabin warps into nothingness , where the forest growsstrangelywild, trees taller than he’s ever seen warping out of the little house on the prairie. This can’t be right, flowers blooming as brightly as the sun out of the windows, but this doesn’t bother him. Everything else is all greenandgreyandglowing in the night air.
By light of moon-
As if someone calls his name, his head turns instinctively to the sky. The moon is full,fatandheavy in the dark. He can make out something perched on it. In the back of his head, he knows that this must be a dragon , the boned wings, the twisted horns, the pointed scales straight from a storybook in the library. The moonlight blesses the slick body, shining in every crevasse and illuminating the great horns protruding backward. The wings are silhouetted against the night sky as the dragon directly swoops down upon him, tailcoiled . As she comes to land before him, vibrant purple ripples across her skin. Great talonsrazorsharp reach for him, but Ben is not afraid. They cradle his face as a slender neck and pointed snout sniffs and blowsair into his neck.
I swear-
The smell of this creature is familiar and as unknowable as the starry expanse of the universe. Her eyes flare green, flecks of gold glinting as her jaw lowers and a purifying blue flame pours from between her curved needle teeth. The something crawls and stalks behind him, skittish of the fire, but he can’t remember why. As if a great crowd is hidden just beyond the dark, chanting voices grow louder and louder, until he realizes that it comes from the blue fire. It fills the air, thumping and drumming and screeching. The words make no sense, in none of the languages he knows or has ever heard. Louder and louder, higher and higher it rolls. Purple smoke pours from her nostrils filling his eyes and ears and mouth and lungs and all of the inside of him there is only chanting and roaring the great abyss speaking to him reverberating in his teeth and his spine echoing into his feet the only thing in his vision the green eyes and the growing fire and Ben calls out to it as he is devoured by blue flame.
I swear- (){ }() + (){ }()
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Morning for Chad starts with a vicious scream echoing up the stairs. It startles him awake.
/Mistake/
Footsteps thunder on the floor below and a heavy thud sends his heart knocking against his ribcage. A bitter stench seeps up through the cracks in the floorboards. He knows the acrid chemical well. The whole cursed house is soaked in it, lamps, banisters, door hinges and all. Mother's obsession with cleaning has even soaked the smoke blackened drapes and moth-eaten rugs to shit. Mold grows in places he suspects it shouldn't be able to grow. It hasn't killed them, yet. He's more likely to die from other things.
/Going mad from thirst, bleeding to death from a wound that wouldn't stop weeping, a great raging fire-/
His stomach clenches around the memory, around the emptiness of his belly. The hunger is more comforting than he’d like to admit.Across from him, hanging heavily on the listing wall is a myriad of clocks and timepieces, cobbled together. The pile grows every day, a monster of broken glass and scratched gilding and dull surfaces. Though he knows every one, his fingers raw with their innerworkings, their faces with no eyes remain unfamiliar. They startle him as much as the frequent raging and begging that fills the floors of the fucking tilting house./Who knew failure to kill a crown prince would result in such insistence on time pieces everywhere. /
The hours and hands listlessly tick, never really going anywhere, just circling and circling and circling and mother insist that it means something, so he makes it matter in his head.School would've already started. He and Ben were out later than anticipated last night. He slept heavier than he should've. Guilt shocks up his spine.
Shit. Audrey will be alone, navigating the crypt halls after yesterday's affair. He doesn't doubt that she'll hold her own. She's earned her own circle of reach, even if she doesn’t like to admit it. Still, it’s never good to be alone too long. Benjamin won’t be there today, he never is after a day like yesterday, and Jane- well, the Fairy Godmother doesn’t much like for her daughter to attend the school of her rival.Heavy thudding coming up the stairs reminds him why he doesn’t like sleeping in, here in the attic he’s been banished to.His feet aren’t so eager to stay on this side of the window sill.Swift muscles follow a path traversed a thousand times before. Hooking his hands, he leans out to grasp the pipe, and swinging his feet out, slides down the rusty drainage with little trouble. As casual as he can manage with mothers’ outrage at his back, he saunters out of the alley.The commotion draws no more attention than usual, but he can feel eyes on him. He answers by slouching even further.
/They are Wicked/
Anyone who comes too close is immediately shoved out of the way. His fingers slip inside their jackets and pockets anything valuable, discarding the rest.
/They are Vile/
Rounding a corner, he kicks out a table leg, earning a shaking fist and a shout of outrage. He makes sure to stomp on the fallen wares, offering a blatant sneer.
/They are Rotten/
Chad changes course, scaling a fire escape and slithering onto the roof. The openness is almost unsettling. The tightknit roofs of the inner territories form a landscape of tin and tile unto themselves. There is almost unanimous agreement that no one owns them. Almost.He eases into a loping stride, and bracing his hands, leaps onto the next rooftop. The corrugated iron barely echoes his landing. There are times to be a menace and times to be unnoticed.He sets a stiff pace, dropping and clambering as he goes. Ears remain open, eyes always scoping out shadows and gaps that are too wide. A goblin-boy once stepped on a loose tin sheet and his whole body was pulled onto the same hole his leg disappeared in, screaming. Nobody ever took credit for it.He’s just a bit more on edge. Just a bit.School isn’t too far away, the crypt Yen Sid set up lies strangely in the center of the sprawling mess that is the fumbling town on one side, and the bare coiling forest on the other. It falls under no one’s definitive territory. Benjamin had suggested, but it hadn’t……. felt right.Still, school remains a proving ground. An easy place for conflict to resolve and in turn, turn sour.The sun glares down at him. He feels it on his bare shoulders, baking the back of his vest. Winter is barely over yet the heat creeps in. That’s the problem, with the barrier, among other things. It’s a trapped boiling pot. Air comes in, but not like it should. Sunlight bores through the magic, yet air feels stale, wind never passing through. He knows, because when there’s time to cast eyes beyond the barrier, the sea outside is whipped white, yet their pathetic pools and miniscule beaches remain static.
/Thinking about the outside is unwell/
Chad feels a lightheadedness threatening to overtake him. He forces it down. He’s trained his stomach to remain stiff, unaffected by its dry emptiness. Still, hunger is unpleasant. He could visit the stash at the safehouse…. no, Audrey waits and their supply will need to remain unaffected if Uma, if someone really is after them this bad. He’ll eat later, when business is settled.The town abruptly ends, one stark wall braced against the dour forest. Tapering routes and stone alleys have been walled up against the wicked branches reaching over into the thresholds of living creatures. He doesn’t drop off into the forest. There are actual things with real claws and fangs and to be frank, he’s never been a fan of the furry or the scaled.
/Benjamin’s claws are different /
Instead, he slides down a sloped roof, and drops into a side street, barely a few streets away. Being followed when travelling above is easy to spot, He’s confident enough that his fleeting footsteps haven’t betrayed his presence in the slightest. He’s fast, faster than Benjamin, which is how he won Croc-o-Snappers at last year’s Ravage and Pillage. While Benjamin's always been more of a watcher, Chad's really.... a man-of-action. They all do what they want where they want, but he does it the best.The crypt enters view and Chad knows he’s been spotted when two hulking figures squatting at the entrance reluctantly rise to block the stone arch leading to the tunnel of skeletons and desks. Both sport muted red hair and obscenely wide shoulders. Chad makes sure to widen his steps, eyes comfortably swinging past them like they’re no more that the carved stone demons decorating the entrance. They are obviously not eager to see that it’s Benjamin’s second. The Stabbington Cousins have drawn their blades on Benjamin more times than they have ever spoken in public. He schools his face into a familiar look of boredom. He’s here out of boredom.He intends to stride past them. Recognition will start something up he doesn’t want to deal with today. His fingers flutter over the dagger hidden inside his vest. Bad habit. Benjamin is always saying it’s a bad habit.A thick arm blocks the entrance. The smaller one, the one that talks the most, Patches. The hair on his arm raises.“You gotta pay tax.”Chad scoffs “Benjamin doesn’t pay tax.”His feet shift subtly, ready to be light and fast.“You gotta pay tax. You gotta pay for education.”“Ah, I guess you two are broke then?”Silence. Both of their glares are dull, unimpressed. He angles back, so that they can’t box him in.“Benjamin doesn’t pay tax. You know this. Your ‘royal highness’ with his hand up your ass knows this.”He’s not sure if the sarcasm hits. It’s hard to tell with them. They’re smarter than he gives them credit for, Benjamin often insists. He should know.
/He’s…. clashed with them, before Chad. /
“You aint Benjamin” Patches sneers“And you’re not Henry Hans. If he wants taxes, his lordship can come get them himself.”He shoves the arm aside. The taller one, Burnes, strikes, but he is faster. He ducks away, the meaty hand grazing past him. Burnes is taller, he’s off balance, over extended. Chad simply hooks a foot around an already teetering ankle. Years of eyes on him alerts him to another hand from behind. His movement is fluid, swift, practiced endlessly. His foot pulls, body twisting and he intercepts the fist in his two hands. He pulls the arm in, yanking one off balance as the other crashes face first into the dirt. They’re close enough to smell each other’s breath. His finger slips into a pocket. Lightning fast his palm extends, barely an inch, driving onto the barrel chest. Patches gasps, wheezing, doubling over.He’s fast. It’s done in seconds. No blood is spilt. All he really did was shove them around a bit. Still, he has the upper hand. He’s not even breathing hard.“Benjamin doesn’t pay tax.”He leaves them heaving and dusty on the top of the stairs as he descends into darkness. He’ll have to keep track of them for the next few days. Henry Hans doesn’t much like them, but he’s a bit of a coward when it comes to action. He’s also very easy to offend.A few feet down, his eyes adjust. Around the corner he can spot flickering flame light. Classes are oddly divided. There are twelve chambers in the dusty dark, each containing stone coffins that they have doubled as desks and tables. As there are no doors, curtains or beads have been hammered into the stone to grant some privacy. Underground with no windows means the air is even staler than usual. The torches in their wall scones burn all day and night. He’s never been around to see who replaces them.Chad doesn’t much mind school. He likes some of the classes, when there’s not much else to do. Most are taught by adults who are so bitter that they need to make everyone else miserable, dragging their pupils into their schemes, sometimes helpful to those who fully intend on living out their parents’ villainous dreams. Only he and Audrey really attend. He doesn’t have many other friends that roam these halls. Benjamin used to come all the time, almost every day. Then one day he just didn’t really anymore. Now, when he does show up, he and Chad sit in the back, usually with Audrey on his lap taking notes while the two of them slump, glaring, locking eyes with anyone who will look in their direction. It’s fun when others squirm, like they used to under the gaze of older kids. The threat of jumping someone the moment they set foot outside the crypt. Nobody messes with anyone too much inside.School is strange that way.Jane doesn’t come. She’s a faeirie and faeiries have to attend faeirie school. Chad hadn’t understood when he was younger, but the way the Fairy Godmother kept a hand on his own mother had made something in her excuse a lot clearer.They’ll pick her up later today. The jerking light casts shadows on the wall, and Chad can hear Mr. Snoop droning his lesson, something about smuggling jewels which piques his interest. He leans closer against the chamber entrance, considering going in, before the lesson turns to a spitting rant about ungrateful children. Not today.He almost takes position against the far wall, next to the 13th chamber that hadn’t been turned to a classroom before thinking better of it. It’s Yen Sid’s office, and he doesn’t much like the implication of being caught waiting outside at the headmaster’s door. Instead, he casually leans against the stairwell. The rough stone scratches, but he doesn’t mind. He crosses his legs, closing eyes for a moment. No one will touch him here, no one brave enough.School is strange that way.After picking up Jane, they’ll go do the rounds, collecting protection money and vandalizing tags that have vandalized their territory and just generally being menaces until Benjamin shows up and decides what they’ll do for the rest of the day. Tonight, maybe he and Benjamin could go loiter around the Terror Tunnels, really trash up the place, chase some goblin boys for fun. They haven't seen Double D around in a while. Might be good to go dig him up out of the caves. He’s always a laugh.
/He's always so easy to make fun of. /
Time passes slow in the semi-dark. Shuffling steps has him opening his eyes. Yen Sid. Chad’s never quite managed to get his stride down.He’s tall, tall enough that the tip of his dirty wizard hat folds under the stone ceiling. He’s never particularly liked the wizard. His eyes are too haunted, tiny black pupils peering at everyone from under grassy eyebrows. He never leaves the crypt, he never speaks unless teaching and he’s never even come close to trimming the bedraggled beard resting on his face like several mop heads stitched together.His bony hand grasps a dull golden bell, perhaps the only thing in school that hasn’t been snatched in passing or carried away in the early hours of the morning.He rings it once, twice, thrice, before ducking back behind the sheets of his chamber. End of the school day. Chad frowns. It’s not like him to give up educating the festering lot of them this early in the day.“Move it freak-a-zoid.” “Shut the fuck up-” “If you don’t stop looking at me-”Students pour from the chambers, sticking in their respective groups. Kids separated by a jumbled curriculum slide back into each other’s circles. Shoving threatens to escalate things, so bumping is reserved to a minimum. This does not stop some obvious rivalries from peeking their heads.Yzma screeches at her fleeing students.“The bell dismisses you the day I am dead!”Nobody dares remain in the same room.Chad’s space isn’t interfered with. He’s given a wide berth, even by Celia flashing her tarot cards at him. Audrey’s voice reaches above the hubbub, her commanding tone scattering the younger kids.“Excuse me? Move!”Upon catching his eye, she huffs and sashays over. Toes become victims to her heeled stomps. He rolls his eyes. His gaze tracks her stride, making sure she’s not leaning to heavily into her better leg.“And where have you been?! I had to pay to even get in today-” His fingers flash the pouch he pulled from Patches’ vest, flexing his biceps “I know Aud-”“-and then I had double of Shan’s battle tactics. He’s threatening to make me rewrite his fucking snow avalanche story, as if that’ll ever do anything.”Her fingers gently test its weight, relatively heavy with coins and shapes he has yet to identify.“Of course, I only paid half, but still.”He doesn’t doubt this. Audrey is as beautiful as she is charming. Benjamin would’ve broken kneecaps if he was here today.
/He wishes sometimes. /
“Half? Not even a quarter? The two of them are as blind as they are stupid.”She blushes “Disgusting toads don’t much appreciate honey”He glances up the stairs “Shall we?”Her own eyes roll, pocketing the pouch deep.He follows her up the stairs, making sure to throw his best menacing smile down behind him. A half-dwarf boy and a girl with dark hair stare back up, faces blank. New faces. He winks. They avert their eyes.Just before they reach the top, he skirts around Audrey. The Stabbington cousins are gone. He doesn’t deny himself the small relief.“Your majesty.”He makes a show of bowing deep as she reaches the final step, eyes flitting about.“Shut up.”He grins at her, trying his new smolder. Her disgusted face barely hides her grin.The walk to the apothecary is navigated by main road. Audrey’s not averse to the rooftops, she just never really used them.
/They’re more his and Jane’s anyway. /
Formation is second nature. Audrey takes lead, Chad covers from behind. The lack of their headman and web-rat leaves a space sorely unfilled, one they must regularly navigate around
/They are Wicked/
Masks slide in place, strides extend. He pulls up his fingerless gloves, running a hand through curls, gaze narrowing. Audrey’s chin proudly morphs into the angles trained into her body.
/They are Vile/
Leering from the passing crowd is answered by Audrey’s eyeroll. He strides closer, though not close enough to make her seem vulnerable.
/They are Rotten/
She throws her hair over her shoulder, showing off her marked neck. His eyes stare down faces, blatant challenge written about them. The shadows watch them, pouring out of dark corners. Nothing too much out of the ordinary. Nothing to remain too lax about.The Hangman’s Apothecary is a filthy little storefront tucked in a back way. It lies on the very verge of their territory, acting as a signpost to anyone passing through that the district of magicks was sure to be stumbled upon if you kept on walking. The display window is a rarity to still be intact, ever dirty as it is. His mother scrubs it every day, yet it remains grubby from the never-ending grime absolutely everywhere. His fingers ache at the old memory, the rawness of knuckles.The window is blocked by woven foliage, offering glinting peaks at the potions and pastes and goods haphazardly piled on shelves. They do not enter by the front door.Chad rounds the back. The Fairy Godmother likes him, somewhat enough in the way she likes Cinderella. So, when he knocks at the back door, the dwarven boy answering with a blank stare rings alarm bells.“Where’s Jane?”’ - Audrey doesn’t like this alley, it’s too closed off, but Chad will be quick, even if he is often late, so she waits. She pulls her compact from her pocket. The pressed powder is long gone, but she only really keeps it for the mostly unscratched mirror. Fixing her hair and checking her eyebrows, she glances behind her in the reflection. One, maybe two passersby. Normal, she’s learned, for this part of town. Her senses aren’t as tuned as the others. Every interaction she has to filter, every glance she has to catalogue, relying mostly on the others to gauge. Her skills lie in other things, the reason she’s by Benjamin’s shoulder, the reason the two of them are in the forefront. They face things. His absence sometimes muddies this, but princesses adapt.
/He’s so getting an earful from her later. Imagine them having to pay fucking tribute. /
When will they understand, she’s not a washed-up royal like them.A faded yellow poster in the reflection catches her eye. Audrey twirls and finds Auradon’s latest batch of propaganda haphazardly plastered on the wall.The Enchantress proudly gazes far away, hand casually posed as if casting a spell.She’d like to plant a sword through the skull of the barge goblin who keeps putting these up. It’s a glamorized depiction, hair curled and so wavy that it must be blow out, hair does not do that naturally, something she’s desperately in need of. Perfect nails clash with a lipstick too pale but Audrey imagines poor taste doesn’t matter much when you are the literal Enchantress, master of all the realm.
/A realm by birthright hers. /
There’s something admonishing is the soft smile, the way the eyes perpetually always seem to be looking past them, through them, in her rich green dress of what velvet must look like. Disgustingly classy. This must immediately be rectified.Audrey stuffs her hand in her bag, pulling out her best pen. Such good, intact pens are rare, hard to trade for-
/Grand-mère would surely admonish her for wasting real ink on such a triviality. /
-but the opportunity is not to be wasted. When she steps back, several disfigured royal faces stare confused. Perfect.She shakes out her hair, scanning the alley entrance and the backdoor Chad disappeared into. The coin pouch sits satisfyingly against her hip. More to add to the stash, less going onto the coffers of rivals.
/The nerve of them to assume she’d even consider leaving him for them. /
Chad rounds the corner, hands stuffed in his pockets.“Let’s go.”She doesn’t see the Jane behind him. Strange. Burning, in her chest. She follows, heels clicking on the cobble to keep up with him, no longer in his casual slouch. The weight strapped to her thigh suddenly feels loose, she’d like to reach down and feel the cold steel of the straight rod and the curved prongs.Princesses do not fidget.“They’ve gone to the Bastion. She wants Benjamin for something.”His voice cuts into her chest. The Fairy Godmother’s interest is unfavorable to say the least. Chad passes her a note in step. Jane’s shaky writing forms dots and strange curves. To anyone else its nothing more than worthless scratches, a code so unusual and undecipherable it might as well not exist. To them, the message is clear as day.
The Beast
Mom
Trouble
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
/Jane feels like screaming her head off/
Jane does not.Her cloak is too tight, sticking to her legs and back. She doesn’t dare draw the hood up despite exposed ears and an open neck. Mom doesn’t like her hiding in the hood.
/The cord around her throat feels like choking /
Jane ignores it.She almost stumbles, corrects herself. These stairs are unfamiliar. No one comes this close to the Bastion of the Beast for a reason. She feels eyes. Moms’.
/Jane feels like flaying her skin off and turning it inside out/
Jane does not.The stone castle reaches itself high above them like a creature reaching to grasp the sun, casting deep and wide shadows. The crumbling stone is heavily scarred and stopping just behind Mom, Jane barely catches herself from tripping into a wide crack in the courtyard pavement.“Dust your cloak off Jane, guests don’t enter houses to dirty them.”Her severe stare bores into her bones.Jane nods. She sticks out her shaking hands, forcing them to still as she delicately pats Mom’s great cape clean, practiced fingers picking at grime and smoothing out the worrying wrinkles. Jerking her own cape to rid the dust, she tucks her hands back inside, head down, staring at her shoes. The left toe is scuffed and the lavender charm tucked inside itches and she must make sure to not breathe too loud-Mom sighs.“Knock Jane, it’s rude to just loiter outside.”Jane stiffens as not to jump. She pulls her shoulders tight, swallowing. Sweat feels cold behind her ears. She knocks, softly, rapidly, retreats. The looming oak door echoes hollow.Shuffling behind the wood. Jane bites the inside of her cheek.
/Will they have received her message? Will they-/
The door peels open and the head servant pops his head out. His frown immediately jumps to nervous indifference.“La Fée Marraine, welcome.”The door swings completely open. He bows deep, gesturing for them to enter. The hall swallows the outdoor light.“Lumiere.” She acknowledges.Her neck is ramrod straight as she steps into the dark gaping mouth.Jane keeps her eyes on her shoes. She follows, into the throat of the bastion, the tailcoats of a man who was once a candelabra swaying in front of her.
/Jane feels like screaming her head off/
Jane does not.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
From across Benjamin sits the enemy he and all children if the Isle go above and beyond avoiding, and give everything to please. An adult. Someone’s parent.By the scruff of his neck Benjamin has been pulled into the castles’ best /least trashed/ drawing room. He looks everywhere but ahead of him. Closed curtains block out the boarded-up bay windows, their heaviness occasionally pierced by pinpricks of lights. If they weren’t ugly once, the moths and dust have ensured that they are now. Despite the heat, the cracked fireplace cackles and barks as it consumes broken furniture. They have long ago given up trying to identify who is who among the still cursed castle staff.Cogsworth’s hand grasping the back of his neck pins him in place. His feet remain planted. He has slid down as low as he possibly can on the paisley couch. Benjamin would like to kick himself for forgetting his bone claws back at the Den. He’d like to kick himself for getting caught in the first place.The usually trashed table is occupied by a dented tray sparsely inhabited by chipped cups and a mismatched teapot. Father’s jug of watered-down wine precariously sits on the lip of the table, shoved aside. The risen hairs on his arms travels up his neck.
/What witchery has she been speaking into his ear? /
With every look the Great Fairy Godmother throws to him, the stalking thrashes in his spine, the humming tears at his throat, the thrumming sits in the forefront of his teeth. Why Father tolerates the likes of this magick-caster, he does not know.Across him, her ramrod straight posture and pleased demeanor dominates his senses. Her great cape is momentarily discarded. The scent of sage and something bitter, wartus root, wafts from it. She keeps trying to catch his eye, pursing her lips. He won’t let her. Instead, he eyes the bun on the top of her head. Her hair is strapped into a severe updo; her neck tilted at an angle a tad too proud. Strands of grey have started growing in. Growing old. Growing less patient.He doesn’t look at Jane. She’s practically hovering over the piano stool. He knows the twitch in her shoulder and her knees pressing into the lip of the seat. The cloak drapes to hide the old bruises. She’s only sitting now because Lumiere insisted, convincing the Great Fairy Godmother that Father considers a standing guest unproper in the castle.
/Father considers his own son unproper in the castle /
Cogsworth tightens his grip. Benjamin strains his ears.
/Benjamin is in the castle. Father knows he is. /
Benjamin likes television. When he and Doug met, a barter was started between him and the dwarven boy. Benjamin kept the Terror Tunnels the dwarves and their offspring were digging cleared of intruders and pests, and Doug supplied what came to be some of their most valuable resources. Little by little the Terror Tunnels became theirs, and Chad and Benjamin found themselves an ally in the precarious position of almost being considered a friend. Doug was small and thin and shivered too much. Doug also knew mines and machines and dynamite, and perhaps, more valuable, was in possession of perhaps the only television set on the Isle that caught signals other than propaganda channels.Whether it was because Dough and Chad rebuilt it together, somehow bypassing something, or because the tunnels ran deep enough that the barrier let through a signal in one specific dead end, none of them know. All they know is, twice a week, the ever-blasting snow clears from the screen, and fifteen minutes of uninterrupted television pours through. The sound is shitty, never rising above the 5 displayed on the screen when one holds the volume button, and the picture jumps every few seconds. Most of the time he can barely tell what’s going on, and the only reason they know it’s not sanctioned by Auradon is the distinct lack of yellow advertisements and the permanent ‘There is magick in all of us’ banner missing from the bottom of the screen. Watching it gives him a headache like a hammer splintering his forehead.But, for those fifteen minutes, the world is open to them. For those fifteen minutes, there are people, real people whose faces he has never seen and who have never heard his name doing things he’s never heard of. For those fifteen minutes, the humming, thrumming stalking is silent.This silence is different. It is learned, tempered by years of fear. Every hair on his arms flattens itself, pressing into skin like barbed wire. The stalking strains itself into the forefront of his head and Benjamin feels his vision threatening to go blurry. Without looking he knows. He feels it in Cogsworth’s tense fingers. He hears it in Jane’s gulping breath. He sees it in Fairy Godmothers’ practiced disinterest.
/Father. /
The heft of a great creature sounds from down the hall. Benjamin recalls the echoes from an uncomfortably familiar memory, when he was small enough to crawl under the furniture. When he was small enough to go unnoticed.
/Too late /
Adam Beast lurches into the room. His footsteps land heavy on the thinning carpet. His musk fills the air, bitter, embroiled, and reeking. It drowns out the sage.The lack of magick provided different fates to the castle staff whom all still remained in their furniture form at the time the Barrier was created. A few staff were spared, returned to their previous human form. The rest stiffened into household objects. In the case of Prince Adam la Bête, the curse and the Barrier fought each other tooth and nail. One tumbling over another to claim their pound of flesh and piece of soul. A man, huge and hulking and twisted fingered, a Beast with no horns nor ears nor fur, flat-footed on the ground. One hand, the hand of human, the other heavy with curved claws. Thick necked, Adam Beast is curling in on himself.The rose was gone, long dead, and with it any hope of being normal ever again. Something too much of a man to be a Beast, something too beastly to ever be considered human enough.
/On purpose, perhaps? A set punishment. /
“You’ve come up in the world I hear, boy.” He says, without even glancing at Benjamin. His voice scrapes against the ears of his son.The humming coats the inside of Benjamin’s throbbing throat.He says nothing. The grip pinches. The Beast, lord of the Bastion, slams his bulk into the empty armchair, a throne untouched by any other hand. Heavy breathing flutes out from a skewed underbite.The Great Fairy Godmother waits for her host to settle, before delicately bringing the lukewarm tea to her lips. She sips, and Benjamin watches her throat pulse the liquid down. His fingers feel light and sweaty.She preens; “Adam, may I call you Adam your highness?”Snarling erupts in the middle of her sentence. If Benjamin can credit her anything, her face is blank. The smallest of displeasure curls in the corners of her mouth. It’s gone before he can blink.“I hope I haven’t offended you.” She all but grates out.It’s as if he’s forgotten she’s there.Adam growls; “Bring.”The old command shivers up and down Benjamin’s bones. Jane jerks slightly, intent on boring holes into the floor with her eyes. Lumiere steps forward, giving his old friend with his hand around Benjamin’s neck a wide berth. Benjamin doesn’t care. He watches Father.Father’s eyes are peaking at Jane, shiny, unblinking. Interested.
/Shit/
The sound of Benjamin tearing at the seat cushion draws Father’s attention away. He digs shaking fingers into the small slash he’s worked opened. The ripping fabric is so loud. The silence is hungry, spinning and spinning, and this sound fills it starkly. Cogsworth shifts his grip, his whole palm now pressed against the back of Benjamin’s head. “Stop it.” He sneers. Not too loud. Never too loud.Adam snorts, almost a laugh. All heads snap towards him. Benjamin knows earned himself a tally towards a punishment. It’ll come, eventually, unexpectedly. That’s how Father likes playing it.Father’s gaze is starving “You've become a little too tame, haven't you?” He says.Benjamin stares back. If he looks away now, he’ll be submitting, Jane will be forfeit. If he doesn’t, he risks a heavy blow from the clawed hand.Lumiere entering with a knee tray saves him from making a decision. He places it in Fathers lap and lifts the covering to reveal a steaming rice dish.Adam’s attention transfers to the meal before him. He dips the human hand in the soft-boiled mush, scoops and slurps loudly. They wait in anticipation.“You wished for the boy. Speak.” Father motions at him with his claws.The hollow snapping of his jaws echoes as he licks his hands, his tongue searching his jowls. Benjamin watches his chin lazily move up and down and up and down, before snatching his eyes down to his own lap. Adam's tongue slithers into his hand, lapping up the mushy rice. Benjamin feels his teeth out with his tongue, and finds the familiar disappointing dullness of his canines.The Great Fairy Godmother nods “Of course.”The slopping does not cease.“Now, Benjamin.” She shuffles in her seat, leaning forward, placing the cup on the table. The tea in the porcelain hasn’t stopped quivering. “I’ll be blunt. You’ll like that, I think. I suppose you’ve heard of the treachery of that cursed School Master against me. It’s no secret of course.”If he could sink lower into the cushions, he would.“Answer boy” Father snarls. He is uncharacteristically present in this conversation.He nods. Yes, Benjamin knows. Everybody knows about the feud between her and Yen Sid. Everybody knows the hatred tunneled between them. Everybody knows about the potions and the poisons she pawned off on children to slip into food or drink.“I also hear that you’ve recently come into your own. Harriet Hook and her sinking ship has left a convenient space for you, hasn’t it. Doug did well with the explosives that day, didn’t he?” He meets her eyes for the first time. He feels his jaw twitch, betraying him.
/How did she? /
“Come now Benjamin. You don’t think I don’t keep track of the going ons?” He doesn’t look at Jane.
/Stoic, frozen face. His teeth must not breach his lips. /
She speaks with an easy rhythm and a sly smile. “I know that your recent rise was hard to orchestrate. You’re clever in that way. Like me.”Jane’s clever too. She’ll have left a signal to the others. The moment they can bolt, they’ll disappear. There’s no need for him to ever come back to this place. They just have to make it.“I want the crypt, if that’s not obvious by now. I want the school, Benjamin. With you and your muscle, I’ll drive the blithering snake out of his hole. Your standing, combined with the loyalties of yours, and the assistance of mine-” her eyes glint “will be enough rip the crypt from his grasp. It obviously won’t be enough to just kill the wizard. You’ll have to stomp out any of his lapdog lackeys. Mine will handle the aftermath.”Her persuasive tone grew thicker, sickly. Benjamin felt a thick knot starting to form in his chest.“What do you want the crypt for?” His own voice surprises him.She laughs “The crypt won’t just be for me. It’s not right to have school in such a place, The Children of this Isle deserve better Benjamin, we both know that. Your rotten little lessons shouldn’t be run by Auradon sympathizers. I just want there to be better, and I can give it.” She places her hand on her chest. “Don’t you want better Benjamin? Don’t you want those old fools in that dusty hole to stop telling lies about how the world was? Don’t you want them to stop breeding complacency about escaping? All they do is think in circles. ‘Plot this-‘” she gestures “’Revenge that.’ Are they that intent on having us burn down everything inside the Barrier every few years?”“What makes you think he won’t set up shop somewhere else? What makes you think I care?” He shouldn’t be asking questions; he should let her just talk. The stalking is shouting at him to flip the table, to grab Jane’s hand and just run, lack of blade and claw be damned. Any who stop them will be met with his teeth and closed fist. But the cowed thing inside of him finds itself suddenly very offended. “And I apologize if I gave off the impression that me and mine can too be bought by a bowl of rice to be commanded by you.”“I command it!” Father lurches forward, rising from his seat. The bowl clatters to the floor. Mush splatters against Benjamin’s boot. He snarls: “It is my will and you will abide by it.” The humming pounds. It’s going to crack his skull open and slither out at any moment now.The tension is palpable as she presses on, her cadence growing less sweet by the minute.“I know you don’t much like me. Such a tragedy really, considering my knowledge of the magicks,….and curses, I know it can’t be a dislike for faeiries. You are after all so fond of my dear Jane.” The Great Fairy Godmother places her hand on Jane’s benumbed leg. “Your Father has become quite fond of her well. I do so hope we don’t have to come back, me and Jane to bother him about this again.”He can’t move. His mouth is sour and his throat burns, like he’s been running running runningrunningrunning and his heartbeat echoes throughout his entire body. Father steps closer, leering over him, and his body is a concrete hole, is a crypt, trapping him in place. Adams/ hulking shadow falls upon him. It burns hotter than the fire chattering to itself in the background. Cogsworths’ grip is suddenly gone. Fear and shame coil together as Adam grasps him by his shirt collar lifting. His face is so close Benjamin can make out the veins in his eyes, the wet lips stretched across the yellowed fangs. Father’s breath encircles him like smoke. The thump thump thump scratching humming encircles his ribcage coiling itself defensively around the vital organs.
/Teeth in flesh, yanking, a forever aching shoulder/
“He’s crafty.” Father says, snorting into his neck “But he’s a mutt, he’ll do as he’s told.”“Of course,” her voice is silky “Such is why I came to see the Father first.”Benjamin says nothing. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> The pack waits for him where they all agreed to go if one of their own got caught by parental traps, the Den. It’s late afternoon. Darkness will soon come, and along with it the build up to night jobs to be pulled. He didn’t think they’d been in there that long.The servants caught him just as he was clambering out of the coal bin. He wasn’t listening, the dream last night strange. Benjamin doesn’t dream. He endures the casual nightmare, but this was neither worrisome nor anxious. It filled up his head until he couldn’t think about anything else and he wasn’t listening if everything outside the coal bin was clear. He couldn’t remember any of it and it so filled his worries he was sure he might as well have been blind with how he couldn’t think of anything else.
/Stupid/
Cogsworth scolding him for sleeping in the coal bin means they know nothing of his passage into his tower. They see him as their master’s bastard scrounging for survival, nothing more. Ideal. There is no returning, until they forget, or, at least get sloppy enough to stop looking out the window for him.Jane’s already there. As soon as his head peaks up the stairs, he spots her furiously paging through her journal. His line of vision is almost immediately blocked by Audreys’ washed-out pink skirts. Her face says more than enough, worried lip almost bleeding from her chewing. As soon as he’s close enough her hands pull him up the last steps. Her hands flutter about him, searching, inspecting. When no obvious injury presents itself, and she finds that he’s not willing to divulge if there is any, she leads him by hand to the couch and pushes him down into the plush. He lets her. The humming fluctuates, as if it’s unsure about clinging to his bones. Chad watches the display with mild interest. In his hand lies his glass dagger, which he flicks and twirls with practiced ease. The worry lies in his stiff wrists, strange guilt drives his eyes to Benjamins’. Benjamin nods, and he most immediately eases.Chad dips into his pocket and tosses something to him. The weight is immediately recognizable. It’s his claws. He slips into them, forswearing to never leave them off his person. It was juvenile. It was childish. It was something he never would have done but something about yesterday sent him spinning and he wasn’t thinking.
/Not thinking is weakness. This weakness nearly killed him, nearly ended Jane. /
The humming collects in his fingertips. It reaches into the claws and Benjamin feels the stalking ease its stiff presence. The thrumming reverberates into the base of his skull. His throat feels the need to vocalize, but Benjamin pushes it down. His hands dig into the couch cushions, and extracts the blade that was once Uma’s. He forces shaking hands to still as he runs the tip pf the claws across the handle, catching in the groove of the weave.He says nothing for a while. The others busy themselves around him, waiting for his word before planning and plotting commences. Audrey takes to stitching something upon the sleeve of Harriets’ coat. She presses up against his side, and he allows it for the moment. Chad has sidled to the table, where Jane studiously etches the pages. Her cloak is discarded, ankles braced against one another. She’s no worse for wear than him. With all of them in his line of vision, Benjamin focuses on studying the knife.
/Distraction is needed, thoughts must be gathered. /
They know it’s Umas’. Her own trademark cyan and heritage of seaweed marks it as the blade of a sea-witch. But Benjamin doesn’t need these indicators. He knows this knife. He knows how it sat in her hand when she first carved it, when kitchen knives were too bulky for a small child. He knows the sound of its scraping and prying oysters from boulders. He knows the porous stone and its curve nearly as well as he knows his claws.
/He knows the betrayal the faced under it well/
His nose crinkles.
/He will not let them get caught in the same trap/
He starts suddenly. With little hesitation, Benjamin sums it up for them in as few sentences as he can. They listen raptly, taking in with calculating eyes and practiced stone expressions. He watches the sun drift down to the horizon behind the newspaper as he speaks. Up until yesterday their biggest problem was a mystery benefactor backing assassination attempts. Things always go to shit when the adults get involved, which is why no one involves them. Basic Isle code, the rigid rules of warfare, of survival./Adults are always, somehow, crueler. /But they’ve always taken pains to avoid The Fairy Godmother. There are people that haven’t come back. There are people who spoke big game and walked to her store in the dead of night to raid the till, who never slipped out the same windows and doors ever again. There is no death under the Barrier, but whatever happened to them, they might as well have gone to the Place of Ends and slipped into the deep dark well, because anything else would be worse.
/The humming has grown, filling his chest and throat. Today was too close. /
Chad frowns “What does that mean for us? I’m assuming saying no comes with shovels for us to dig our own graves.”“Could we take advantage of this?” Audrey asks “I mean she’s got a whole territory under her thumb. We could unite with her to take over the school, and then just cut her down like we did with Harriet, absorb all three into the pack.”“You’re kidding.” Chad says “First, we didn’t even have the manpower to absorb Harriet’s territory. The splinters ripped it up while we were obviously still dealing with the repercussions. Second, you don’t just make deals with her, and you don’t try to screw her over unless you really wanna risk certain suffering. Besides” he pauses, resting against the table. “We agreed to leave the crypt alone. No, we should try to figure out what exactly she knows about us, our operations. Someone snitched somewhere. It’s no secret that Harriet’s not exactly terrorizing the public anymore, but how could she know who was there that day? How did she know Doug sank the ship? There were no adults on the pier, we made sure of that. One of his cousins maybe, the one that works at the apothecary?”“In connection with Uma maybe, if she did arrange the attack” Benjamin mumbles it under his breath, thumbing the blade. She was in the stands on Hook Harbor when they sunk Harriets’ vessel, the Timeless Revenger.
/Uma’s not the type to hang off of her mothers’ every word, but he’s been wrong about her before. Uma also hates taking orders, and that’s never changed about her. /
“No” Jane silences all conversation, voicing his thoughts. She looks at him, chin slightly trembling, hands squeezed into fists. “I didn’t know what she was going to do Benjamin, I didn’t know. If I had I would’ve said something. But I know she would never side with Ursula, or her offspring. The water folk don’t much like once-winged folk. And the Dwarven and their kin don’t speak to outsiders about affairs. The seven cousins would die before they spilled secrets. I swear it Benjamin, Doug is clean.”“I know.” He can’t let her spiral now; she needs to be on point. “They were too comfortable with one another. They’d met before, planned this. The Bastion doesn’t stock rice, nobody trades food with Lumiere or Cogsworth. Too sacred.”“She’s probably the one who got that extra portion of rice for him on the last barge day. I knew I should’ve gone to see Hermie last week, she was too quiet about the money I owe her for smuggling in that hairdryer.” Audrey says, thumb nail pressed against her teeth.Chad pushes his hair back “We can’t tell Doug. He’ll spook and the whole lot of them will go to ground. Along with their dynamite.”“You think she’ll try something against him?” Audrey asks“Not yet. But she wouldn’t have mentioned his name if she wasn’t sure she could touch him.” Chad saysThe quiet that follows is pensive. Jane stares worriedly at the darkening outside. Benjamin needs to right the ship: “Don’t tell Doug. We keep this between us. I’ll think of something, a way we can turn her down. For now, we’re going to treat this like we are in the same position we were yesterday. First, we watch our backs. The Fairy Godmother will summon us on her clock, and we can’t waste time waiting for it.”“Jane, you’ll put feelers out, but don’t stretch too far. Who ever struck yesterday might feel the need to strike again, and I want to pull it up at the root. Chad, careful when you’re under her eye, if she knows that Jane runs with us, she’ll know that you do too.”Jane places a hand on Chad’s arm. His mother has always been uncomfortably close to her.“All of you need to make yourselves seen tonight. Stop at the well, push someone in, do what you would have done another day. Nobody needs to know we’re on the alert.”Chad nods “The Stabbington cousins might be out for us, so keep to the main streets and away from Ratcliffe Lane.”Upon hearing their names Benjamin feels excitement. “You tangle with them today?” He sits straighter Audrey scoffs “More like they tangled with us. They were toll-gating the crypt, ironically. It would seem that the great clown prince Henry Hans and his rhinoceros also have their eyes on expanding into the school.”“Toll-gating you say? How much did they pull?”Audrey pulls the pouch from her skirts “Enough. I never knew so many of us valued education.”“I never knew there was so much money among us.” Chad quips. “What are we gonna do with it?”Benjamin shakes his head and motions to Jane. “If we are all in agreement, it’s both of yours, having dealt with them when I should have.” Jane nods, returning to studying her journal. He looks at Audrey still leaning beside him, silencing her. “Pay Hermie with the toll money if you would rather. I don’t want debt with her two days away from Barge Day.”“Will you hit them tomorrow? It’s not right that Benjamin Beast and his should pay toll.” Audrey asks, lips against this ear. Slight goosebumps run across his scalp. “Has he tried speaking with you again?” Benjamin asks. The humming becomes razor sharp.“Not yet” Audrey says, “But I imagine he will try to, soon.”Benjamin thinks for a moment. They don’t need another dog nipping at their heels, but mayhap scaring Henry Hans off now is sure to lighten the load. “Day before barge day. Gives us a day to plan, set it up. We can’t take a loss after our big show at Uma.” He says.“Agreed” Jane says, “He’s grown and attracted some kids, I can find out who joined up with him, but I know of Red for sure.”Audrey nods, a preemptive plan forming “Good. Me and Chad, we’ll scope her out. The Red Queen’s like Grand-mère, Red’s always home for curfew.”He leaves them at it, throwing orders and ideas across. Uma’s knife goes back into the couch. Jane seems to have calmed somewhat, knees easy and relaxed. The image of her mother’s hand upon her leg refuses to completely melt away from his memory.
“Such is why I came to see the Father first.”
He’s tired. The whole of the day feels like it’s sagging into his bones, a feeling so utterly familiar he feels sick of it. He slept poorly, the cursed dream mucking up absolutely everything. He rises and turns the lamp at the table off. Can’t have it burning and shining past the news papered windows. Curtains like the ones in the best /least trashed/ drawing room, would be ideal, good and heavy. Maybe some sails from the Barge, if such can be traded. The Den is still to be built up, much work to be done.The retreating light cuts all chatter. It’s still early enough in the day that the complete anonymity of night has still to reach them. “We split for the night. Make your appearances at your haunts. Here tomorrow, early.”Jane’s the first at the stairs, hands ready at the crank. Chad joins her, chasers her away, and starts turning.Audrey remains sitting.“We’ll have to share the couch-” Audrey swipes at old crumbs. “Aud-”She worries at the seams, “You get so grouchy when you complain about the springs-”“Go home.” He snaps. Benjamin is tired. The stalking is worn and working on his nerves. The relief of his claws returned to him has been spent.She frowns and Benjamin knows he’s spoken too harshly. Her fingers reach for her scar, before she stops herself, composing in that way she always does. Spine straightening, neck retracting and resting like a swan, an offended swan, hands tucked neatly together like two gulls in winter. It’s practiced, years of it fluidly shaping her body and the outrage of her gaze. It’s as if her soul has been wringed out of her body, and the same cloth has been used to mop her up again.“Sure, Benjamin.” She says tartly. He reaches for her but she shies.
/Audrey, no, wait, stay. /
She stands, curtseys, turning away.
/Please Audrey. /
He steps closer and presses his palm into her back. She stops, and the angle of her neck looking back says intrigue, expectancy, like she knew he would. Something in the back of his head turns.
/Of course she did. /
He pushes it away. She turns, hair tumbling as it glides over her shoulders. His claws scratch against the fabric of her corset. He drags them across her waist. The tips catch on the exposed boning. She’s always been too thin, even under the constriction of her grandmothers’ obsessions. The worn and pressed leather is the only thing hiding away ribs sticking too far out, pressing raw against whalebone and steel of a reconstructed corset.“You still have the armor you sowed?” He asks. He already knows, but he wants to hear from her tonight.“Yes, of course.” Her tone turns serious.“Wear it.”Her face is panicked “But-”“Make it fit. Claudine will help you. She stays with you wherever you go. We can’t have another incident like yesterday.” He drags his hand up her arm, pressing knuckles into her collarbone. Cold steel is warmed against her skin. “She threatened Jane. She’ll not have you too.”Audreys’ composition shifts. She leans forward and for a moment her head is pressed against his chest, tucked under his chin. This closeness is unspoken. She breaks away, catches Chad on the stairs, and doesn’t look back as they disappear downward. The stairs coil back up, clicking into place.He’s alone. His bed is no safer than the corner of his enemy’s street. But the pile of pillows in the corner offers a calm rest, soft and dry and hidden away. This is after all, what the Den is for. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> In the night like this, sometimes, when things are too slow, when you’ve been chased from your hiding place, the forgotten sides of reality make themselves known like glass strewn in your drinking water cutting the inside of your mouth.
“He’s a mutt, he’ll do as he’s told.”
What has he gotten himself into? Running about, pretending at this, and not seeing that the hand was getting closer and closer. Why did he think he could stay out of the grip of those claws.Will he one day grow so strong as to kill Father? What if he can’t?
/Will it even matter? /
Anger rushes through Benjamin like a raging fire. His hand scrambles against his shirt, forcing its’ way through. He cruelly digs his thumb and forefinger into the risen flesh of the bitten shoulder, willing it to sting.Of course, it matters. Every day matters, every miniscule action matters, every drop of sweat ensures that he will eat tomorrow, every stone in the road matters because that’s how they make sure their death toll remains lower than their enemies, all of this build them up, a tower constructed from rubble to avoid the flood.
/What if they run out of things to build with? /
His name means something. His name scares them.
/This is unsustainable. /
Is this how he will live forever? How they will live forever? How everyone will live forever? He can die from knives to the gut or burning to death or plain starvation, but there’s always midnight to undo hard earned death, always tomorrow waiting to make things worse. An idea takes root, snakes from his spine into his head. He’s sixteen, maybe seventeen now, by his own rough estimation. Most of the people buried in the crypt died well after sixty years, so he’s practically guaranteed to live that long. But they eventually died, most of them of old age. Can he die from old age? Under this Barrier, has anyone? What if Father lives forever? What’s stopping either of them? Will he be laying in his old bed, with Father standing over him, a leash about his neck.
“He’s a mutt, he’ll do as he’s told.”
“You ever wish on a star? On the nights that you can see them, of course.”Muscle memory jerks. Benjamin tips his hearing, waiting for the thunder of footsteps up the stairs, for Uma to stand grinning in the dark while Harry revenges his sister. Instead, a faint pattering crawls across the floor. Moonlight illuminate…. whiskers.Benjamin feels like laughing, he’s going insane.“Can I call you Benjamin? Or is it just Ben-”His hand slams down on the mouse and his fingers coil around the soft body, squeezing. It gasps, but remains still. "I've yet to eat today."The little heart pounds against his palm. He’s not too shocked that words pour out from its mouth. There are, on occasion, talking animals. Shere Khan and the strangling snake that fears him, Ka. But…. he doesn’t immediately recall talking mice among the menagerie.
/Something about this creature is familiar. /
“Yes. It’s always like that isn’t it?”This mouse talks like it knows him.“What would you know about things like that, rodent?” It struggles in his grasp, pulling out a paw to latch on his palm. The little tail twitches.“What if I could offer something? What if I wanted to offer a deal?”“Deals are not offerings mouse. They don’t stop my hunger. As a mouse should know, they don’t make for full stomachs.”“I offer what no one else can. A way out. A way off the Isle.”Of course, that’s what the talking mouse wants to sell him. Of course, it wants to bargain an impossibility for something from him. This thing is more desperate than Doug. He's not a child anymore, he doesn't make deals to get out from under the Barrier. That's the type of thing you sell to someone who's an idiot. It’s the easiest scam to run. It’s a scam he has run.“How will you do that? I also sold tickets to the barge once, offering rides to Auradon. I dug tunnels and charged fifty a head for escape under the Barrier through them. Tell me, how much coin will you ask?” He poses the question, bringing the mouse closer to his face.“No coin, no money. Only a favour-”
/As predicted. /
“-and in turn I’ll not only provide a way out, I’ll give you a place you can go. Away from here. Do a favour for me, and I’ll get the council of Auradon to pull you off this island.”It keeps getting better and better. Benjamin feels like guffawing as he addresses the mouse; “I’m sorry, I should have known that you have friends in Auradon. Let me guess, this council, devoted to you of course, has secretly been working on a plan for the past twenty years, and will only be able to get me off the Isle two weeks from now on midnight, because that’s when their plan to rescue you, their leader, will spring into action? And very much only after the favor has been done, I suppose.”The mouse stares at him blankly. “Well, it’s not completely like that.” It says.He scoffs. “Out of curiosity, before I swallow you whole, what exactly were you hoping I’d bite on the line for?”
/He knows this mouse. /
Benjamin applies pressure.The mouse speaks fast; “I’ve the talent to pass through the Barrier-” /Typical con fare, offering something that you won’t verify unless you receive what you want/ “and they are bound by my word.” /Followed by a confirmation of authority…………/ The thought tapers off.The mouse speaks casually, like Chad mentioning a new tear in a sock filled with holes to Audrey. Like these things are facts. He watches the face. The whiskers don’t flinch as they scrape against his knuckles. The dark eyes jump to his mouth and then his eyes. The humming has grown to settle in the forefront of his chin. His nose wrinkles. The little heart remains steady. Mice don’t come up with schemes like this.“Who filled your head with such a fantastical scheme, rat?” There is something wrong with this creature, something so other. In those dark domed eyes, the stalking recognizes something.
/You ever wish on a star? On the nights that you can see them, of course. /
“Is this form a rat? Apologies, I thought I’d gotten this one right. It’s hard, going from one to another in mid-air.” The paw scratches the snout. “I was a bird before this. The only way I could cross the sea without too much suspicion.”
/Merlin, Merlin is famous for his battle with Madame Mim, for transforming to mice and rhinoceros against her hounds and dragons. Merlin and his high wizardry most hold some power in Auradon. /
The stalking does not like this mouse, does not want to be near this thing. The stalking has never met Merlin.“You’re not Merlin”It’s ears swivel as the mouse answers; “No, not enough of a beard. Arthur really got saddled with a real strange one there. Lucky for you, I’m not nearly as insane. Though-” The nose sniffles. “Though I will offer you the same, if not better assistance. I know your Father’s curse; I know it must have been so difficult trying to understand it with a lack of magick-”The recognition spreads throughout his body. In the moonlight the mouse emits a faint golden glow, like a lamp covered by a damp towel, blocking out the radiating light. Like a divined creature just out of reach of its power. The same power. The thrumming runs up and down his fingers, whirling and whirling and whirling about her, the room seems lighter, as if the moonlight reaches farther in eager to follow her wherever she goes and she’s so warm and heavy in his palms.
/Shapeshifter, Leader of the Council of Auradon, magick so strong not even the Barrier can remove it. Familiar with the curse upon his Father’s house. /
The pieces slip into place as he chews them. They form a conclusion seemingly impossible. A bit too hard to swallow, like glass sprinkled in your drinking water.
/Creator of the Barrier, ruler of all of the nation just across the sea from them, trapping them. /
“The Enchantress”“In a way, I suppo-”His hands thuds together as they surround her. His burning fingers dig into the flesh and fur. A satisfying pinch and crack resound. Breathing, heaving, snarling, squeaking.He doesn’t need claws to tear her apart. He’ll rip that tiny heart out and eat it in one go, still beating as he swallows. He’ll keep the head. He’ll wear it around his neck, a pendant of pride. No, better yet, he’ll send it back to Auradon, all crushed andsquishedandhe’llmake them dropthebarrierbeforehesendsthebody.
/Think, Benjamin. The Barrier and the one who cast it. There is leverage to be had here/
Anger and excitement roll in his shoulders.
/Audrey, Jane, Chad, he has promises toward them. /
His stomach coils, pinches.
/The curse/
The stalking roars.“Take it away. Take it away! Take it away or I’ll-” His exposed fangs threaten to swallow her whole.“Do what?” she squeals. He squeezes. The little heart vibrates. “I’m the Enchantress Beast. Do you really think I’ll let my soul die in the body of an animal?”
/Bluff? /
/Stupid. Of course, she’ll be in no real danger, coming here. /
The little body shifts uncomfortably. The thought erupts in his chest./She’ll punish him, she’ll punish them, she’ll curse them all. /Waking up at the dark of midnight, your soul ripped from the Place of Ends back your body, to endure day after day after day after day. Pathetic scraps that must be fought for so routine that they wake up with blades in their hands and parents breathing down their necks. Teeth that were his birthright, that were his to inherit from Father, ravaging the shoulder of a boy that just wanted to borrow a book from a library no one had ever truly loved.Benjamin Beast closes his fists tighter./Let her. Let her punish them. Let her kill them. What can she do that hasn’t already been done to them? What the Barrier hasn’t already done. What the Fairy Godmother isn’t threatening to do veiled behind high words and stiff smiles./The loose paw scratches his finger. It barely stings.“Benjamin-” she gasps.Something feels on the verge of collapsing.“Benjamin, I can help”It would be so easy, why won’t his hands do it?“Please-” she wheezes “Let me help.”He snarls “Please, Enchantress, help me crush your ribcage”
“What if I could offer something? What if I wanted to offer a deal?”
“What no one else can. A way out. ““I’m the Enchantress Beast.”
/This is hesitation, hesitation spawns weakness. /
Hesitation saves your life when drinking water sprinkled with glass.He slumps. He feels just so tired, his whole body buzzing and his head fuzzy. It’s like the tv snow is resounding through his entire body. His grip loosens and she breathes a breath of relief, pulling air into her lungs.
/This is unsustainable. About this………maybe there is something to be done. /
“Why would you come to me?” He watches her from half lidded eyes.
“Mistakes were made. Things weren’t done……. exactly right. I need a hiding place Benjamin, for something so big, I alone cannot keep it a secret anymore.”“If you think I’ll keep your prisoners for you-” He snarls.“I’ve a whole Island for prisoners Benjamin and a rather convenient Barrier to keep them in. No, I need shelter Benjamin, protection that Auradon cannot offer, that I cannot offer. That the Barrier offers. No one comes looking for things here.” The simplicity of the statement hits harder than he anticipated.The humming curls in the forefront of his mouth “I’m no ones’ trash heap dog.”“I never hoped to imply that you were.”
/Is it possible? Something so far removed from them? /
“There are those in Auradon who would rather not let this happen. Therefore Benjamin, it must. I’ll grant you and all who help your freedom. I swear it upon my high noble brow and-” she snaps her teeth into her palm, and from the little paw a droplet of blood emanates. As it falls upon Benjamin’s thumb, the blood fizzles like a bright sparkler, prickling him “upon my life.”
/Magick. Magick in the Barrier. /
What’s he got to loose?
/He’s desperate enough to listen. Foolish. /
“What do you need from me?” Benjamin places the shapeshifter on the ground.The dark eyes glint mischievously. “If you kidnapped a princess-” she asks, “where would you hide her?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A wave slams against the Barge and it rolls, precariously tilting Mal’s box sideways. Her horns scrape against the roof. Wet has somehow gotten in, sloshing with her. Her sleeves are damp with it, and it’s soaked her pants. The crate is dark, the type of dark that presses itself into every pore of your skin. The type of dark that makes even the most independent of creatures feel dangerously lonely. She should’ve insisted on being stuffed in with Evie, even if they’d be so tightly packed that they’d have to take turns breathing. She’s never been a seafaring creature and waters between Auradon and the Isle of the Lost is a particularly rough patch of sea. She’s heard rumors that it was designed as such, so that if any should escape the Isle and then the Barrier, they’d be discouraged from crossing the sea to the nearest landmass, and instead opt for a getaway via the open ocean, where they could rather conveniently be caught by sea-folk and patrols. Uncle Triton’s never said a word about it, but lots of adults have been keeping secrets lately, so perhaps it’s not that farfetched.If she’s having a rough time, she can’t imagine that the others are faring any better. Jay might be all right but Carlos has never done well trapped in the dark. Another tilt and Mal is slammed against the other wall of the crate. The Barge groans terribly, struggling to climb the waves. Mal imagines a great formless shadow diving under the Barge and crashing into it and grasps her pack tighter.If it sunk now, it would be a watery grave for all four of them. If it sunk now, she’d have to look dad in the eye and explain why her soul was going down the drain in Tartarus instead of sitting in her body in school. If it sunk now, mother would absolutely kill her. Mal despises swimming. She hates the cold and the way her limbs become heavy in water and the way there’s always something just out of sight in the depths. In water magick is strangely warped and the fire of a dragon means nothing.
/Get a grip. If she can’t survive the boat trip, how does she expect to survive the next three months? /
The worst part of it is not knowing how far they’ve gotten. Are they halfway across the gap? Have they only just started? She hasn’t been keeping track of anything at all. Mal wishes she could talk to someone. If she screams, maybe someone will hear but the only people that’ll care are in the same predicament as she is.
/Calm. She needs to think about how her time there is going to go./
Now that she’s actually on her way to the Isle, Mal finds some regret among her thoughts. What they’re asking from these kids is too much. But the only reason that they won’t see this coming is that it’s an unexpected plan. Kind of a bad one, but they didn’t have many other options. This goes deeper than the palace, so they need to go to lengths never gone to before.
‘Flash and flare
I bring forth light
Be birthed my own sun
So I may have sight.’
She whispers the spell under her breath, more out of habit than anything. The familiar rush of a successful cast tingles before dissipating. In her palm swirling light appears, building into a small faeirie sun. The light is meagre, barely that of a coin, but Mal doesn’t dare make it bigger. Another thing to be worried about. What’ll happen to her magicks. Specifically, will she keep her connection to them after passing through the Barrier. Carlos had a theory that the Barrier was only created to counteract the magicks of the convicted. Jay had a theory that anyone who passed through would be blocked. One has a heritage of magick, but remains unable to cast himself and the other is the most well-read person she’s ever met. Evie, of course, having both a heritage and the affinity to cast and much knowledge about these things, had simply shrugged her shoulders and said she didn’t know. Then they all looked at her because she’s a faeirie. The truth is that none of them can say. The original caster left much in the way of how the Barrier actually worked-The Barge honks it’s deep horn, one, two, three, pause. It repeats twice. They’re close. Is it just her imagination, or is her faeirie sun waning? Could the Barrier do that? Reach outside of itself to dull magick? As Mal exhales, her breath condensates in front of her. Mal doesn’t even have time to take another breath before several things happen at once.The faeirie sun is snuffed like a blown-out candle. The inside of the box freezes over and Mal feels the inside of her ears swelling up. There’s cold ice in her chest. The building pressure in her ears reaches its climax, bursting open. Then a most sudden intense burning Mal has ever felt, running up and down her body like ants devouring a corpse. In the back of her head Mal remembers the sensation of miscast spells and their magick leaching from her body, but this is ten thousand times worse. A scream is stuck in the ice in her chest and air refuses to be pulled into her throat. Her body jerks like something is being ripped out of her veins. Then, it drops her. There’s wet on her face. She’s crying. Mal lulls as her vision darkens………
By light of moon and silver of kind, I wear fealty to thine freedom to which I have been blind
The Barge lurches, slamming into something hard and Mal awakes to herself being shoved forward, horns aching fiercely as her head collides with the far wall of her crate. She can hear the other cargo in the hold sliding with her. There’s commotion. Screaming, thumping, jeering far outside. Mal panics for a moment, straining to hear any voice she recognizes. But it’s too far and placed somewhere outside the hold. A faint voice outside raises above it, some announcement of sorts perhaps. Her heart in her ears is slowly fading away. She feels like she’s floating and heavy at the same time.The hold door strains, and something drops into the small compartment with them. Mal waits, head slightly spinning, breath bated. The dark forces her to rely on her ears, but she feels too disconnected to fully utilize the sense. She jumps as there’s a knock on the lid. It sounds so hollow. Mal’s heart has started up again., now beating a thousand times a minute. There’s the knock again and Mal recognizes the pattern. With shaking hands and a numb wrist, she repeats it. Silence. Then Mal is thrown about again as the whole box drastically turns back. There’s grunting, a straining, and then Mal feels herself lifted. Whoever is doing the carrying is struggling. Then a thud as the crate is set down. A whooshing pitter patter bounces against the crate.
/This is it, this is it, this is it. /
A cracking as the lid gives in. The box practically pressurizes, air flooding in. Mal expects it to coil about her like a snake, investigating, welcoming, but it simply sinks around her, intent on filling her nostrils and mouth. The sliver of light turns into a sky. She barely turns her face before being smattered by raindrops. A second passes. Two. A shadow above her. Horns, curved.“You know who I am?” The flashing thunder blinds Mal for a moment. Her senses feel dulled in a way that Mal has never had an awareness of before. She reaches out, hoping to find dragon-self just behind her, but instead finds a fog. An emptiness she cannot measure. The rain pelting her face numbs her cheeks, indistinguishable from tears. Mal and dragon-self have never been apart before. Something’s fluting, hyperventilating, it’s her, lungs wheezing. The wind whips itself against her, but it says nothing. The world is for the first time, absolutely silentHe asks again; “You know who I am?” Mal finds her head nodding. Yes, she was told. “They give you something to give me?” Mal forces herself back into the now. The heaving breath settles.
/They did it. They’re inside the Barrier. Pull it together. /
“Have the courtesy of taking me out of the box first.”Her own voice is surprising, wavering only slightly. The shadow extends a hand and Mal takes it. He yanks her up and holds her hand as she steps out of the box. Her legs vibrate like there’s an imminent earthquake, but his grip is solid, and Mal forces herself to think of anything else other than dragon-self, taking notice that each of his fingers are sporting makeshift claws. He takes great care that they don’t touch her. Finding his face, they lock eyes for barely a moment. Green, his eyes are green like the shadow of a leaf, hiding behind a wet cleft of brown hair. There’s recognition in his gaze. The same thing mirrors in hers. She wonders if he remembers her. Then his eyes flick to her head, he looks away, letting go of her hand. The spell is broken. The wet is cold, and the wind harsh.Oh, right. Mal pulls the string tied around her neck loose, and hands him a copper key, an insignia to locate the rest of the crates. She spares a glance to her surroundings. Even with the storm above, the light is still so bright that she squints. The Barge is docked at a harbor. The gangplank must be on the other side. What Mal can see of the township looks like stone buildings and more modern warehouses coalesced together. She doesn’t exactly know what she was expecting. They’re hidden from the barge’s portside by a heap of garbage the size of a small hill, some of it covered by tarp. The only thing stopping her from pitching into the water is a foot high rusty railing. The commotion from earlier slowly crawls back into her hearing and Mal comes to the conclusion that it’s on the other side of the Barge, and sounds suspiciously like an auction with an announcer and voices yelling offers.Mal startles at the sudden nearness of someone dragon-self would have noticed by now. A girl in a light blue cloak with her mouth pressed into a line stuffs something in Mal’s hands, unfurling what appears to be a cloak to match her own, though far filthier and worn. “Put this on. Now.” She says, so short that she is looking slightly up at Mal. Mal complies, slipping the patched together pants over her boots and leggings. She’s got steadier legs now. Another boy, blonde and in a vest showcasing sinewy arms studies the pendant before dropping below deck. The girl ties the cloak around Mal’s neck. “My name is Mal.” She extends a hand to the girl, hoping to find a name in return. The girl brushes past it. “From here till we get to the hideout you’ll stay within three feet of me and you’ll do as I say. If I tell you to sit you’ll sit, if I tell you to run, you’ll run” she says. There’s a steel in her voice and Mal pushes down her hackles and the urge to roll her eyes.The way the three of them are looking over their shoulders and hastening this along suggests that they know something she doesn’t. Taking her pack, the girl lobs it into a plastic basket, and pulling items from under the tarp, covers it as best as she can. “If anybody get close enough to ask, you’re carrying these things for me.” Mal takes the basket and the girl must see some worry in her because she says: “But don’t worry. Nobody is foolish enough to get that close. Now stay.”The girl turns away, searching under the tarp. Their conversation is apparently over. Mal shuffles away from the railing. Even with her pack covered the basket looks strange. What does this Barge ship anyway? Mal takes a moment to examine the items closer. These don’t look like things you send to an isolated island colony. These don’t even look like things you send to an Island prison. The smell hits her now and Mal actually starts to wonder if this isn’t straight up garbage being shipped out here.Heavy boots walk past her. Mal follows them to longs legs, and finally to the two curved horns on his head that had cast such a shadow over her. Mal assesses her apparent rescuer. The boy, because it really is a boy behind the wind and rain and cloudy shadow, is tall, easily surpassing Jay and maybe even on par with cousin Hyllie. The broadness of his shoulders stretches fully under his jacket. The rain batters against him like it’s hitting a wall. Even still, this boy feels scooped out, like his body is desperate to fill in the framework it’s been given. His horns aren’t like hers. If she pushed back the hat, she’d find nothing but good, clean forehead. With his claws and horns, the boy likes pretending things.
/They really are children. She didn’t doubt when it was told to her, but actually being here, they are children. Actually relying on these teenagers to smuggle them in and protect them? What were they thinking? /
The horned-boy pulls another crate from the hold, aided by the blonde boy working fast. His claws press into the soft wood and with no more than a heavy exhale he rips the top open. The one and only blood daughter of the Ever Queen, and Mals’ best friend lies nestled inside like a Fabergé egg. She blinks at the sudden light, peaking from her crate. Her tresses are slightly mussed. “Mal” Evie breathes, like she’s just been awoken from a magical slumber. “We made it?” Her knees are pressed into her chest. Then the rain hits her and Evie jerks, now fully awake and gasping. “Oh, hello, thank you-” it’s aimed at him, but he turns away and back to the hold. Seeing her face makes Mals’ heart squeeze and she immediately jumps up toward her. Mal braces, taking her hand and pulling her into standing. Evie takes a moment to regain feeling in her legs, swaying slightly. “C and J?” she asks, taking in everything Mal saw just a minute ago. The girl appears again, shoving another bundle at her. Mal unfurls a second cloak as Evie inspects the trousers with slight disgust and looks expectantly at Mal. She hadn’t realized how lonely she’d become until she saw Evie again. Mal throws the cloak about Evie’s shoulders as she answers. “They’re finding them now. We kinda can’t dawdle here E.”Mal sees the now pressed line of the girls’ mouth and pulls Evie down with her into a crouch, the two of them now a less visible bundle of wet scrap fabric and sack cloth. Mal thinks about offering a grin to placate the fact that she did in fact not do what she was told but thinks better of it. To give her credit, E is more preoccupied with the fact that they passed through the Barrier than to complain about squatting in the rain. “We’re really through?” Evie is breathless, and Mal snaps to remember that while Evie is not Caster-folk, Evie is still as capable as any with her mirror magick. She must’ve felt the lid snapping shut too, the magick just gone. The girl dumps another basket, this one hiding Evie’s pack. Mal explains what the girl means for them to do as E patiently listens. Evie frowns. “What does that even mean? Getting close?”The horned-boy grapples with a barrel being shoved upward from the hold. Digging his claws into the plastic, he raises and places it in one swift motion. “We’re moving too slow” the blonde boy says, climbing up. He slips his fingers into the grooves on the lid, popping it off with ease. A surprised yelp sounds from inside. Carlos. He looks at the horned-boy. “The other one is sealed hard. And heavy. Kid’s still alive, I heard him moving.” The horned-boy takes the extended sigil, ready to jump into the hold when a call echoes.“Well then. Dogs and a scrap heap. I’ve never seen a better pair!”All heads snap to the peak of the trash heap. A voice rumbles down toward them. “That’s a lot of goblin boys Beast” The blonde boy immediately shoves Carlos back into the barrel. His protest is drowned out as the rain batters against the replaced lid. Flashing thunder illuminates a stout figure above them. “What? You think you can keep everything for yourself? Hiding away on this side of the Barge.” The boy slides down the tarp with practiced ease. Wearing only shorts and a washed-out dinner jacket the rain has absolutely soaked him through. His slightly protruding belly is heavily belted over an ugly burn scar, and Mal spots the red flash of a flare gun as he slows down his descent. He jumps from the heap onto the deck. Red hair sticks to his forehead. “Oh! Rather goblin-girls, I should say?” Mal pulls her hood lower, shuffling towards Evie. The blonde boy leans forward, suddenly flashing a shining knife seemingly conjured from nowhere. Evie stifles a gasp at the sight of it, but Mal finds herself momentarily entranced. “Go back to Harriet’s bedside Snipes. Isn’t it about time for your yearly romp in the sheets with mummy?” he grins at the boy, Snipes. Snipes’ face flashes for a moment, then dies down. The horned-boy remains facing her, but she can see something riling up his spine. He’s in the precarious position of being the only one between them and Snipes. And from the look of things, they aren’t supposed to like Snipes much.But why? He’s just another kid. Are they afraid he’ll tell a villain?
“But don’t worry. Nobody is foolish enough to get that close.”
Mal racks her brain for who this could be, which parent she can match to his freckled face, because despite his size, this is a child, though an older one.Snipes grins, something in his voice tinged with malice. “I won’t take it personally this time Chad, seeing as running with a dog will give you a right roster of maddening, mind melting diseases that make yourself not think clearly.”Pulling the red flare gun from his belt, Mal can see that something has been done to it, the barrel widened and the tip of what looks like a firework inside. Something Snipes is using to threaten them. The space where dragon-self was starts aching. The reason why they don’t like Snipes. Mal reaches for a disarming spell. Nothing tingles in her finger tips and panic starts setting in. The girl has been maneuvering herself closer and closer, and now crouches next to Mal. “Stay quiet and busy” she whispers “If it comes to it, we’ll have to jump. So keep close.” Evie clutches Mal’s hand. She’s never much liked violence, but under pressure she might be the coolest here. If she packed her mace, they could get out of this without anyone getting hurt. Especially now that Jay’s theory about the Barrier seems to be the true one.The barrel now firmly pointed at the horned-boy, Snipes barks: “I do however take it personally when the dog I’ve come to put down won’t face me.”Mal is drawn to the horned-boys’ face. It’s unnaturally still, like a carved statue, set in a stare that would rival the busts of the pantheon at the school museum. It’s like they’re all watching him, waiting for a reaction of sort, whether to pull a trigger, whether to jump over board, whether to launch and slice with a knife. And with the way his shoulders are curving in, he knows it.“Is the great Benjamin Beasty pissing his drawers or some shit? Real scared ain’t you when someone faces you head on ah?!” The smile is now a sneer. “I earned my badges and now I’m gonna give you one-” In the width of a breath Benjamin is looking right at Mal, and Mal sees what is coming before it happens, sees the regret and the anger and then the unstoppable fury of a monster in the eyes of a boy “-and then I’m gonna put another one on your whorish creatures’ neck too-”It happens brutally fast. The flare gun clatters from broken fingers and howls of pain are cruelly cut short when the claws that set Mal free from the dark box dig into a pale throat. There’s a snap as one hand twists the wrist all the way around. There’s a gurgling as the other hand renders a neck into ribbons. Mal can’t look away. She can’t tell if this is an appropriate amount of blood for what is happening. “Well now you’ve a badge just like her.” His voice is too cold and too casual. With strength that shouldn’t come from such a hollow body, he lifts Snipes, gurgling and wide eyed and petrified over the edge of the Barge, and lets go.
“But don’t worry. Nobody is foolish enough to get that close.”
Mal doesn’t hear the splash below. Evie’s silent next to her, fingernails digging into her hand. Both of them are too stuck to do anything. The rain is pooling under her feet. The girl moves next to Benjamin, leaning over to catch sight of Snipes down below.The blonde boy, Chad, coughs. Mal and Evie turn their frozen heads in unison toward him“Don’t worry too much about him. He’s…..not well liked around here, you could say. ” He throws them a grin, the type that would’ve had Evie going weak in the knees if they didn’t just see a boy get his throat slit and dumped into the sea. “You gotta help me with your friend” he says “There’s still one more in the hold. And this one is kinda skittish.”Mal nods numbly, watching Benjamin’s shoulders settle back down.
/Who are these children? /
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Doug hates the rain. Doug hates the smell of it combining with bone dry earth and Doug absolutely hates the putrid mud that starts forming the moment you step in it and it refuses to wash out. Winter is over, meaning that the annual snowing in of the Terror Tunnels turned to the annual flooding of the tunnels. Some strategic blocking and digging filtered most of the dirty water to the town well, but not before Doug woke up floating on his mattress, nose pressed into the ceiling of his shared room with Grover and Barrow and Snore. His only pair of socks have just gotten dry, and now it’s raining again. Out of the two types of rain, thunderous for days on end and minute sprinting showers that plague them, Doug usually hopes for a quick one and done. But today, today Doug hopes that it rains so tediously vicious. Today he hopes that it’s a thick curtain of water that barely anyone can see through. He doesn’t want most possibly his only friends getting caught sneaking something, and the rain will provide a most excellent cover. He likes Jane and Benjamin well enough to wish it.It’s close to midday now. The Barge usually arrives in the morning, but for his family this means very little. While almost the whole town will be at the docks, either to pick up prearranged items or to scrounge through whatever’s left, the dwarves busy themselves with expanding the tunnels. There isn’t a day they don’t dig and a day without digging is wasted ‘excavation potential.’. He knows it sounds like a bad joke, because he’s heard it more than anyone else. There are valuable things dug up from time to time. A lapis pocket, an iron vein which gave some ore, none of which they were able to process into anything useful yet. But Doug’s working on it. The only reason he’s not down there now is because the cousins are covering for him. And the only reason the cousins are covering for him are in exchange for goods from the Barge that they wouldn’t have been able to get. Digging the tunnel to freedom under the Barrier is a full-time job. One that has taken the better part of twenty years. As Uncle Grumpy puts it, ‘The tomorrow you want to have must be dug out of here today, even if that today is a decade.’. Uncle Grumpy isn’t very good at mottos, but Doug doesn’t dare say that to anyone, even if five out of his six cousins think it.There! Doug squints, wiping his glasses with a moth bitten sleeve. Climbing down a townhouse wall, first one, then three, then five, then seven figures. “Hurry!” His voice is barely heard above the rain. The first three run for the tunnel door. Chad steps over the lip of the doorway, golden curls stuck to his forehead, and guides a shivering figure over the threshold, his hands gripping a basket of goods. “This way milady.” Doug feels like rolling his eyes. He doesn’t. The third figure does, pulling down his hood and pushes past Doug and Chad to put his box down and throw an arm around the shivering girl. He pulls her closer and she leans into his heat.“Thanks Jay.” Her voice is like fine porcelain, smooth and assured. Doug is momentarily entranced and doesn’t notice the next two figures sprint for the door. A streak with black and white hair barrels inside, shortly followed by Jane’s swishing cape now soaked. He’s relieved to see her. Her rosy cheeks have warmed themselves to combat the cold and Jane spares the smallest of smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder. He covers it with his and nods. They’ll talk later. The black and white flash whoops, dropping a pack.“Oh that was cold! Brrr! Let’s not ever do that again.” Doug finds himself agreeing with the boy’s sentiments. He almost immediately recognized who this might be, even if he had never seen his face. Cruella sometimes appears on the television in her campaigns against animal cruelty and the fur trade, and in her older interviews she always mentioned her son, Carlos. Their shared black and white hair solidifies his identity in Doug’s mind.“Afraid of a little water?” The third figure, the one the porcelain girl called Jay, laughs. He shakes his head, long fluid strands of black hair whipping water at them. He’s not removed himself from beside her. “AH! No!” Carlos shrieks, ducking behind his lopsided cloak. Jane’s taken to standing right behind him, as if she’s afraid he’ll fall over. Chad, slightly shown up, shoves the basket in his hands at Doug and leans out into the sleet to look for what Doug presumes must be Ben and Audrey.It’s not. In comparison to the warm light spilling out of the tunnel entrance, the outside has taken a more miserable than usual green and grey tone. The thundering rain combined with the oncoming mist makes the remaining figures look like dark shadowy ghosts drifting towards them. As they come closer Doug recognizes Benjamin, but the smaller ghost is too far away from him to feasibly be Audrey.Both of them stop just short of the door, looking at one another.“Inside please.” Benjamin says when the girl doesn’t move.“You first, it’s your hideout.” She says. Despite looking up, she’s looking him straight in the eye.“You’re my…. guest” He grates out, motioning with glinting claws for her to go before him.Her fingers are white knuckling her basket “Please, I insist.” Blank faced, Benjamin crosses the threshold. The girl follows, a flash of purple hair just in his view.Doug swings the door closed on the thundering storm outside, and takes a good look at the brood in front of him.Besides all those he already knows, there are four new faces. First the Porcelain Girl.“I’m Doug.” He declares loudly, hoping that the Porcelain Girl will say something. Much to his disappointment it’s not her.“Hi Doug.” The boy called Jay extends a hand, and Doug realizes rather late that he is supposed to shake it. “I’m Jay.” Jay’s handgrip is solid and his face is strong and honest. Doug doesn’t look up to him by much, but enough that he is taller.“I-I’m Carlos.” Says Carlos, also extending a hand, fine with slightly knobby fingers. In Auradon people must greet each other regularly by the hand, because Doug can see no other reason why you’d give anyone you’d just met in grabbing distance your hand. He takes it, shakes once, and lets go.The Porcelain Girl smiles “Doug is a lovely name. You can call me Evie, Doug.” She doesn’t extend a hand. Doug isn’t sure if he should, so he keeps his hands by his side.“Mal” The final of the four says. Pulling her hood down, a vibrant head of purple hair curls about her shoulders and something knowing gleams in her eye. Benjamin can’t take his eyes off of her. “And you can begin by showing us where the bathrooms are.” <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> “It’s wet.” He deadpans.“The dock was too crowded; we had to jump and swim.” Benjamin says dismissively.Doug rolls his eyes “So you decided to make my engine swim too? Gee, thanks.” “What are you even gonna do with a lawnmower engine? Cut Alameda’s lawn for him?” Chad asks, sarcasm evident. Doug ignores the sardonic question. Part of the deal had been some extra parts and goods from the Barge in exchange for housing Benjamin’s……guests? Fugitives? He’d at least hoped to find some parts that didn’t need laying out to get rid of the water like his socks.“And Audrey?” he asks, picking up a wrench to start dismantling the old part. They’ve all moved down to his workshop, a hollow dug in the tunnels that holds the television and a table for all of Doug’s things. Just an offshoot away, they’ve stashed the……..new recruits? Doug doesn’t know what to call them. All he knows is that as long as he houses them, Benjamin cuts him in on the Auradon deal. There’s no better place to hide something than here.“Currently being the world best distraction.” The snark in Chad’s voice hasn’t dissipated.He though Benjamin would answer that. There are a couple of moments of loaded silence. He wishes Jane was here, but she’s settling the Auradon four in for their lengthy cave stay.“Doug-” Benjamin begins “-if you’re not sure you can”“Your tab is paid up in that regard.” Doug says. “I still remember what I owe. I wouldn’t have said yes if I couldn’t do it.”Benjamin nods. “We’ll stay as long as we can, take it in shifts. There will always be someone here. Can’t risk leaving them alone and can’t risk anyone finding them.”Chad agrees curtly “It’s been arranged. Your cousins won’t bother about here, right?”Doug scoffs “They’re not likely to take a sudden interest in me, that’s been arranged too.” The offerings from the Barge and the promise of useable iron have bought him some isolation in the abandoned tunnels. The cousins will keep their fathers digging elsewhere, as they always have when there are dealings of a kind with the son of the Beast.“The perks of being the cousin no one looks at” he gives a halfhearted laugh. Regret lances through him for a moment, about all of this. Then the vision Benjamin painted him yesterday appears in his mind.
Benjamin leans on his worktable. His claws skirt the wood and he’s careful not to leave claw marks. Doug appreciates that, even if the table is so scratched up it won’t make a difference. His eyes are more sleepless than usual and that means he’s come to ask something of Doug. Something he cooked up in the dark of the night. Something which, judging by the size of the gas cans on the table, is going to ask a lot of him. Doug says nothing, He just accepts the gift, sealing himself into the deal. Their old generator will run dry soon so fuel is as good as a blood promise.
“You ever wish on a star? On the nights that you can see them, of course.”
It’s an odd opening line, especially when Benjamin knows he’s already got Doug.
“Dwarves don’t wish on stars. We wish on matches and cracks in quartz. But if I could wish on a star, I’d wish for all the things you would.”
He’s busied himself with an old project he’s been working on forever. Hands feeling the curve of his old guitar, fingers testing the tension of the strings. One snapped during the last cave in. He’s yet to replace it. It’s an old guitar. One of the first gifts from Benjamin. The gift that bought him a few sticks of homemade dynamite and a very reluctant loyalty.
“I’m going to tell you what I wish for Doug. I wish to leave the Isle. I wish to go to Auradon.”
Doug laughs a mirthless laugh. His glasses, a design of his own, slide down his nose and he pushes them back up. “That old tune. I thought the fire burned that one out of you. Tell ya what, the moment my pa and uncles breakthrough the surface on the beaches of Auradon, you’ll be the first to know.”
“I’m not going to leave by a tunnel Doug. I’m not going to step foot in Froofyskirt land by crawling out of a hole.”
Oh, the pride. A bit presumptuous, but Benjamin is nothing if entertaining when he talks about things he is sure will happen. Things he will force into existence by his own will.
“My apologies. I suppose you wished the Enchantress herself will open the Barrier and hold you a parade on the bridge she’s going to build from here to Auradon. I’ll wish for that too on every match I light, so it’s doubly likely to happen.”
There’s a pause and a genuine smile pulls at Benjamin’s lips. “Doug, how is it you always take the words right out of my mouth? Careful, I might start taking a liking to you.”
Doug put the guitar down, looks Benjamin in the eye. This set jaw, this easy posture showcases something Doug has never seen in Benjamin before.
“Make a wish Doug. Wish for a house deep in the wood, with a winding river and so much gold it’s pouring out of the windows. A house just for you, alone, with a workshop the size of the Bastion if you want. As far inland as you want so you never have to look back, never have to remember what it was like living here. I swear that all to you if would just wish it.”
Yes. Yes, Doug wishes that.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A few hours earlier…….
Barge Day is, without a doubt, the best day of Audrey’s week. It’s on a Saturday, and since the proper /very small/ half of the Isle are still good civilized people, they still abide by the tradition of the division of the week. Monday to Friday is for school and work. Saturday is for shopping at the Barge, or, at least whatever comes close to shopping at the Barge. Sunday is for leisure and lamenting, often both combined. Not that there isn’t lamenting on any other day of the week, but on Sunday specifically Grand-mère likes to gather everyone into the big hall to talk about how better they are than everyone else and curse their circumstances. But Saturday, Saturday is Audrey’s day for getting things done.A typical day for Audrey goes as such. Before the sun rises, Claudine does, because, and Audrey doesn’t much like saying this, she’s a weird little freak who had an internal clock beaten into her. Then as per her duties as Audrey’s ‘lady-in-waiting’, she wakes Audrey up with a cup of coffee. Audrey does not know who they are fooling with that one. It’s very grainy and in a chipped mug she traded a pair of socks and an old hairbrush for, but warm and bitter and filling enough to carry her through the morning. Audrey doesn’t take breakfast. Breakfast would require sitting at a table in the main hall where Grand-mère is served by her own daughter, and Audrey hasn’t dared sit there in months. Too much……contention. Too much worrying about her waist and her hair and Grand-mère staring and being unhappy and just everything. When she finally crawls out of sleep, tired and wondering how the day will go wrong, Claudine will already have packed up her sleeping mat and be sitting next to the wood stove. Audrey sleeps in the bell tower, because she’s a princess, and princesses are kept in towers to protect their virtue or something when in enemy territory. Ladies-in-waiting stay close to their mistresses so Claudine is also there. Grand-mère insisted. The bell tower is part of what Audrey assumes was the old municipality building of the old town, before everyone abandoned the isle. Maybe the town hall. It’s all cold laminated floors and smoothed grey stone, like a cathedral, with carved gargoyles at the front door and sitting on the corners of the roof. Thus, is it now Gargoyle Grotte. The bell tower is small. The wood stove is old. But it does what it needs to, and ever since Claudine came to live with her, Audrey has never woken up cold.The coffee came from the pot of boiled water on the stove and a ratty tin filled halfway with old coffee grinds. There are no taps in her room, and no access to a bathroom. The only source of light is the fire peeking through the wood stove and a small candle lamp.Audrey sheds her sleeping shift. With stiff legs she walks over to the boiled water. She can’t make out her reflection. Too early, too dark. The hot water is comforting so early. Scalding as on her fingertips as she dips the washcloth and wrings it out. One must get ready for the day with a clean slate. Scrubbing, harshly. She must be clean. Tan skin, scratched, turns red. She wipes delicately across the scar. Her badge, her mark, her promise. It’s silly and childish, and she knows she can’t, but she doesn’t want to wipe it away. She likes thinking of him this early. She likes the slight buzz in her stomach and the thought of it settling when she sees him.The heat from the wood oven wafts, filling the whole small room. The bell of the bell tower is just above them. It’s never rung in the whole of her life. It just hangs, hangs, hangs there. Waiting.
/Bells can’t wait Audrey. /
She takes her time, finishes up. She wants peace today, so Audrey doesn’t shift her eyes to her cracked standing mirror. It’s getting lighter outside. Claudine has set out a new corset on the bed. Thick leather, sown together and stuffed with boning to make a shape out of her useless body. Her father’s armor was plate steel and chainmail, made to hold against swords and dragon fire. This armor is made to deflect knives and lessen blows. It’s made to slow down bolts and buy time when bullets fly. There aren’t a lot of bullets anymore, but enough that everyone knows that they are real. It’ll do for their purposes. There’s of course the other danger, that by showing up anywhere dressed like this she’ll be asking for a fight. But needs must. She laces as tight as it will go, pushing in a stomach and hiding it from eager blades. Audrey’s always had the vain fear that it’ll ruin her shape, her silhouette, but she does that on her own. Skirts, to conceal and hide and run in. Heavy boots, high, good for stomping and floating like a swan.Princesses always appear a vision of beauty and elegance. They bring honor to their families by doing so.Make up next. She sits in front of the dreaded mirror, willing her face to grow smaller.Foundation perfectly matched to her skin tone, painstakingly concocted from the coffee grounds soaked in water and combined with powder milk to form the smoothest base she could manage. Cut sponge, swiping, dabbing, using hands. Smooth, matched perfectly. Eyes brown, eyeshadow to compliment, make better, blue, a light pink, eyeliner, charcoal shaved to a fine point applied wet. One swipe. No do over, one swipe. Rouge, she learned to apply rouge before she could walk, brush upward, demure and innocent. Lipstick, so that lips can look sweet and soft. It’s from a real actual lipstick tube. The original color she used up months ago, and the tube can easily be refilled by scraping the remnants of other tubes and melting them together. This shade is nice. She’s thinking of naming it ‘Cat’s Tongue’. Maybe ‘Pastel Ruby’. It makes her lips look rosy. A little rosebud, on the edge of blooming, right above her chin.Princess Audrey Rose. Audrielle Rose. The pride of her family, her royal line. The pride of the Pack, of Benjamin’s arm.
/It’ll have to do. /
It’ll have to do?! This is flawless, she is flawless.
/Nothing is flawless, lest of all you. /
It’s horrible. Foundation too thick, the pink glitter tacky, the pale blue barely showing up, eyeliner wobbly. What a filthy mouth she has. Centuries of inbreeding has given her this mouth, jumping over Aurora and pushing it all on her. Crooked teeth she convinced herself was pearls. This beautiful shade wasted. Lipstick on a pig. No wonder she can’t look in the mirror lately.“Will you put eyeliner on for me?”“What?” Audrey’s caught off guard. It’s easy to spiral. Fun sometimes. She can’t look in the mirror and not. It’s almost a ritual.Claudine isn’t as shy as she once was. Bitterly silent, but not shy. “Eyeliner. I want to try it.” Pretty bold sometimes too. Just, not very pretty, unfortunately. A very harsh mouth. Very unappealing eyes. But honest, always honest.Audrey sighs loudly. Sure, why not. Honest eyes might look good in eyeliner. And they’ve got time before the door unlocks. She motions and Claudine shuffles closer. It’s better not to say anything to Claudine about her mouth and eyes. She’s too young and irrelevant to really worry about things like that.She grasps Claudine’s chin, slightly tilting her head backward.
/Grand-mère used to grab her like that. Grand-mère used to press her nails into her cheeks when she wasn’t holding still enough. /
Audrey doesn’t do that. Her hand is steady. One swipe. No do over, one swipe.Shit, it’s uneven. Nerves. It’s nerves for the Plan.Claudine tilts her face in the mirror. She’s pleased. She knows better than to say thank you.Audrey snorts dismissively “It’ll have to do. Hairbrush.”She holds out her hand. Nobody touches her hair but her. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Aurora waves her daughter off as she leaves the safety of the Grotto. She stands in the doorway, grinning like an idiot. The small mercy is that everyone witnessing them doesn’t care. Audrey doesn’t look back. The Plan requires that she follows a routine and she’s never waved back at her mother. The streets are busier than usual. Barge Day means everyone who can make it to the dock will be there. Old stock in the market will now be cheaper and Audrey will never turn down a deal. With her coin pouch full she has enough to pay her debt to Hermie and fill her basket in preparation for Ravage and Pillage. With Claudine now semi-permanently by her side, she’ll have to start thinking about her attendance as well. Your first appearance at the festival has to be memorable. Otherwise, what is even the point?So many things to think of, to organize, to keep track of.But today, only today, the Plan takes precedence.Audrey walks like a princess, confident that everyone will stay out of her way. And now more than ever they do. Still, her fire poker is easy to reach. But as she rounds the corner-Ah! There Benjamin is. Where he always waits for her, when he doesn’t show up for school.Sellers are emptying their stalls, setting up bargains and making promises about new things that they will soon have on their tables. As if Audrey hasn’t seen the same doorknob rotate between the same three stalls over and over again. Being in the same square where there was death a mere few days ago doesn’t bother her as it used to. The blood in the cobbles only faintly remains. The gathering clouds above will wash it away as it has done many times before. Life goes on. It did when she took her fist visit to the Place of Ends.
/The Plan promises a different future. /
Audrey directs Claudine in the general direction of cloth sellers. “I need new thread and needles. And blue, something shiny and blue.” She pours a few coins into her hand. As Claudine shuffles off, she can feel his gaze intensifying on her. She’ll go to him, of course, but pretense is important. It’s part of the ritual. Audrey doesn’t look in the mirror without hating what she sees, and she pretends that there is no tumbling inside of her that dies down in his presence. Benjamin has no pretense. He watches blatantly. If anyone else had dared to look at her like he does, she happily knows that they’d long ago have lost an eye.
/ Aladar did and that loser learned to never look at anyone ever again. /
She’d be remis if she denies excitement and relief. She knows that everyone is watching now. Watching him watch her. This morning, she was just Audrey, now she’s Benjamin’s Audrey, always on his arm, the two of them always together. She’s the only one who can ever get this close, who can look him in the eye and walk away unharmed. She picks at the goods on the table in front of her, dirty spoons and a bent fork. The seller’s grin is too wide. He’s right to be nervous. Yeah, she’s that Audrey, Princess Audrey, tamer of the Beasts’ son. If it’s any less but dirt cheap she’s not afraid to just take it. What’ll he do? Stop her?Audrey swipes her hair behind her ear. “I like this one.” She points at the fork. With polish she could bend it to a nice accessory, a silver filigree bracelet.The seller scrambles. “But of course, it’s beauty is only matched by you!”“You’re saying I look like a fucked-up fork?” Her eyes narrow, her face morphing into a polite smile. The seller gulps.“Of course not!” His face pales. “I would never!” Her smile slides into a smirk. She’s got him now.“I’ll take it off your hands then. So you don’t make the same mistake of comparing girls to utensils.”Audrey picks the fork up as if she intends on spearing peas on a dinner plate and places it in her basket with years of trained elegance. The seller is unhappy, but he won’t start anything with Benjamin now closer at her shoulder. “Thank you.” He grits out. Audrey allows herself a small laugh. Later today when there’s more bent forks and spoons and garbage, he’ll happily call her back to try and sell the same thing at double the price and expect her to bite.Audrey finally turns around. Habit has her scanning him up and down, assessing. Benjamin’s claws glint dully under the darkening weather. He’s wearing the jacket she fixed up for him. There was a time he was growing so fast that she was scrambling to find clothes that fit him enough to make it through winters. He’s still growing of course, but at least it slowed down. She hates the hat. Sure, it’s warm, but it’s hideous. She doesn’t even know where he got the horns and she doesn’t want to. Last of all she flicks to his eyes. His eyebags betray a lack of sleep. The success of the Plan hinges on her trust, their trust of him, that a talking mouse really was the Enchantress, that a real deal to escape the Isle exists and that, at the end of this, they won’t have died a few horrible deaths. She's the only one who believed Benjamin right away about the Enchantress showing up. He wouldn’t lie about that, not to her.While she’s been assessing, he’s taken to covering their surroundings. The wide berth people give them, the tense settling in their jaws. He’s always been able to read people like that. In comparison to what he sees it’s like she’s daydreaming in lala-land when she looks at the world.
/She inherited being a simpleton from her mother, as Grand-mère would say. /
She sashays closer. What she is good at reading, however, is men. She throws her hair over her shoulder, watching him follow the curls. He’ll never say it, but he likes her blonde. Her mother is lucky in that regard, having naturally light locks. The good hair genes skipped Audrey. He makes space for her to lean into him and she does. Benjamin is warm to lean against. Solid. She’s never been afraid with him. Worried, but never afraid. Sure, they’re starving most of the time, but that growth spurt had been in their favor. Benjamin was thin, but his shoulders and length made him formidable. He could grow to be as tall as his father someday. That already bought you a lot of respect, if you were bigger than your opponent.Benjamin leaned down and whispered. His breath warmed her neck. His gaze stayed trained on the comings and goings around them. “Any trouble?”She stifled a giggle. How romantic it looked to everyone, him whispering sweet nothings into her ear.She turned her face into his neck, as if to hide a blush. “Not at all. If you’re ready, then I am.” She was going to be a distraction, was going to keep all eyes on her while the cargo was being unloaded. It was going to have to be a performance of a lifetime to distract everyone from keeping their eyes on the Barge.“You ready to put a show on today?” he asks. The tip of his finger brushes against her curls.Logically, Audrey knows it’s not meant to be an offense. Logically, Audrey knows it’s more about her safety than her ability. But he can trust her with this, he can.“I can pull my own weight.” She looks him in the eye. “And if you stand me up tonight after I broke curfew, there’ll be more than just a lengthy discussion about strategy.”Something inside of him twists, and the smile reserved for private places, for her, flashes. Then it’s gone again.“Devils’ Bayou then, tonight.”Audrey nods. It’s Madame Medusa’s speakeasy, one of their typical haunts. “Barge Ho! Barge Ho!”The panting voice travels across the square to them. Sellers and merchants jump, closing their shops and stalls, pouring all their coins into pouches and purses. They need stock to fulfil their promises, nearly as much as others need to eat. There’s no order. Those who wait for specialty items will have ordered them days ago. For the rest it’s a free for all. As suddenly as Benjamin was there, he’s gone before Audrey turns around.Princesses are always quick of tongue and well versed in wit and negotiations. They bring honor to their families by being so.The Barge honks its deep horn, one, two, three, pause. It repeats twice. Her turn.Almost all of the Ilse has showed up today, at least those able bodied. They pour into the streets from homes and hovels and alleys. The way to the bay where the Barge docks is cacophony of chaos. Perfect, for them. Claudine returns with a bundle in her arms, taking long strides to keep up with Audrey. At her side it’s easier to walk, where her presence buys them a bubble of space. Taking the basket from Audrey, she loads the bundle, and resumes her typical posture, head down, following waiting. Of the Plan she knows nothing. That there is something that Audrey is a part of she might suspect. Why else would she go to the Barge alone, without the Pack? But Claudine is more observant than most. What she notices in this jostling crowd others might not. Something Audrey is counting on.There’s a crashing thud as the Barge docks. Rain starts thudding down on them, the wind and cold breaking from the cloud cover. It only serves to excite the crowd more. From her basket Audrey pulls a new scarf and tries it around her head. Claudine is more observant than most. The only reason the lot of them aren’t storming the walkways takes the shape of Hermie and her Crew. Specifically, Hermie and Jordan and Clay. In the mayhem, they take charge.“All those who paid get to go first, the lot of ya must know the rules of capitalism!” It’s her voice.In her ill-fitting penguin suit, and as the daughter of the ringmaster that tortured elephants, Hermie might once have been a sight of ridicule. But just as size gets you some respect, seniority makes you dangerous to be around. Hermie was one of the first kids ever born on the Isle, just after Harriet who took the title of first, and before Freddie, who took the title of last. Audrey tries imagining a time, where, for a year there where no other children on the Isle besides the three of them. Where it was just them. Then the baby boom came, bringing the rest of them.In a year or so, Hermie will be and adult by Auradon standards. Whether that will make her an automatic enemy or not is yet to be seen. None of them have ever been that old.Someone in the crowd has the wherewithal to start forming a line. All those that owe Hermie money first, then all those who paid her to bribe to Barge goblins to sneak something in for them. There were, of course, attempts at smuggling people out. The Barrier provided the simple answer of just not letting the Barge back out again to Auradon for more supplies. The Lost waited three weeks and then pulled the stowaways from the hold and beat them to death for causing a mass starvation. There were no more attempts after that.
/Now’s the time Audrey. /
She nods to Claudine “Stay here, make sure nothing gets too wet. I’ll be right back.”She shoves past those in front of her. “Move it asshole.” She wants the front of the line. “Let the pedigree through. Ugh” she skirts about the last few, and finds herself face to face with Jordan, daughter of the disgraced Genie.“Jordie!” she smiles, as sweetly as she can manage. Slightly older than her, Jordan rolls her eyes. Audrey stretches her smile farther. As much as she dislikes it, they need to stay in good books with the Circus crew. Getting rid of Harriet didn’t exactly make them friends, and the Pack isn’t big enough to take them on just yet.
/Biding time, biding time. One day she’ll be rolling her eyes as someone else tries to butter her up for favors. /
Audrey swings her coin pouch in front of her face. “I know Hermie wants her money! So why don’t you call over your brute and let me talk to her.” Okay, she doesn’t have to be nice all the time. Just enough.Jordan scans her up and down, before sighing and signaling Clay over. Clay, son of Clayton the hunter, might once have been someone Audrey would have been interested in a partnership with. Big, not too talkative and stupidly loyal, he might once have been ideal for her to start a partnership with. If she had had the guts to strike out on her own, before she found something better in the Pack.Jordan points to the crowd. “No one passes just yet. We’re doing business.”He nods, cocking his rifle. One of the only guns on the Ilse. Another reason he’d have been a formidable ally. But the set in his jaw marks him as stubborn. Even with the rain in his eyes, he doesn’t blink. What a mix, to be loyal to the death, but unwilling to bend to another’s will. If he doesn’t one day turn on Hermie, then he will on Jordan. Inevitable.Hermie stands on the far end of the walkway, the toes of her boots just dangling over the edge. Water pours off of them. The wind curves itself around her short pitch-black hair. A squat little goblin, green and wrinkly is gabbing at her, most likely asking for a bigger cut in whatever deal she has made with him. She doesn’t seem to really be listening.“Herm! A paying guest request your audience. A royal!” Jordan gives a mock bow as she announces Audrey. Audrey offers a tilted head and curtsey in return, trying not to shiver. That is how this is played.“Shut up and get away from me.” She’s talking to the goblin. It protests, then seeing her stark glare, throws its hands up in surrender and turns back to the Barge. “What do you want Audrey? Another hairdryer? We’re fresh out.”“I want.” Audrey jiggles the pouch, sounding off the clincking of coins inside. “To pay off my debt. We’re even now.”Whip fast Hermie swings around and yanks the pouch from her hands. Audrey lets the slight go. Benjamin and the rest will already be in motion by now and she just needs to keep this going a little while longer.“This is more. What, ya trying to get me to like you or something?”Audrey pulls the scarf lower to protect her face against the thundering elements. “I thought you liked it when people paid interest.”Hermie scoffs, “You and your kind don’t usually care to pay it. You want something. Spit it out, I got a dozen more pockets to clean out.”Straight to it, as usual with Hermie.“This is something that could be good for both us Hermie. Just hear me out.”
/C’mon Hermie, take the bait. /
“If you wanna buy your way back into being the Queenie in this year’s Ravage you gotta pay a lot more than this.”It’s Audrey’s turn to roll her eyes. She’s not stupid. “I want a gun.”Hermie stares at her blank faced. She’s actually stunned. Audrey can’t imagine why. A lot of people must ask for guns. She’s probably had to say no a thousand times. It’s impossible to smuggle one in anymore. And even if it wasn’t, Hermie probably still wouldn’t risk it. Low risk items only. It was a public policy, so that the smuggling route could stay open and under the radar.“Why would you need a gun Audrey? You’ve got that killing machine with a beating heart to point at people.” About that, Audrey is secretly pleased too.Audrey tilts her head away, hunching to make herself seem smaller. Afraid. “What if I don’t like him that much anymore?”Hermie laughs “Lover’s spat eh?” Then her face goes stiff. “Don’t fuck with me. Your little domination campaign with Harriet ended that day with her boat sinking under the waves. You messed with things-”She steps closer, close enough that Audrey can feel the heat leaching from her body and drenched suit.“-that you do not understand. Why would I give you a leg up on fucking anyone else over?”Her small round face is twisted into an ugly sneer, pressed right up against her. The fire poker seems so far away. Audrey’s frozen. Will she be able to reach for it, if Hermie decides she doesn’t want Audrey as a patron anymore?Then Hermie steps back, breaking into a smile. “I’m joking, I’m joking! You take things so seriously Audrey. Lighten up!”She claps Audrey on the shoulder. “But seriously, no guns. Tell ya what, I’ll see if I can get you another glue gun. That way you can stick old Benny’s mouth shut when he tries biting ya, ha.”
/Get it together, right now. /
Audrey offers a chuckle of her own. “Sure Hermie. Or, maybe, I’ll glue yours shut when you yap too much during Ravage.”She must have caught Hermie in a good mood today, because she just shakes her head at the lame bite back.“Go on now your ‘Royal Highness’. I got more suckers to plunder.” Guiding Audrey back to the dock, Hermie suddenly stops. The gathered crowd are foaming at the mouth in front of them. Some look like they might be willing to face Clay’s rifle and take a dive for the Barge.“You know what?” It’s her announcers voice, the once saved for cheering masses. “This close to Ravage and Pillage? Let’s have a free for all. Let ‘em at it boys.”Audrey’s heart stops beating as Clay lowers his rifle and the chafing crowd breaks open like a dam, running like cattle for the Barge. The gangplanks serve no purpose, as bodies jump the gap between wood and boat. The protest of patrons who paid go get their pick of the heap first, perhaps having reserved items, are lost to the bedlam of it all.The younger kids scream with glee. They chant: “Barge charge! Barge charge! Barge charge!” as their feet slide and hands dig for anything remotely valuable to take home, to eat, to trade. The wailing storm doesn’t deter them at all.For a moment Audrey is transported back to her own first Barge charge.Aurora has always been a point of contention for Audrey. Grand-mère despise her, but he doesn’t hate her mother. Not in the same way. When they had nothing, the food running out and the Barges bringing back less and less supplies and the empty space was just filled more and more with things thrown away, and Grand-mère had them hunker down to survive, it was Aurora that pulled them out. The raised in a cottage, barefoot in the woodlands child that did what then three generations of royalty couldn't manage on their own. Out of nothing she fed them. On days when Grand-mère’s hunger won out, she allowed Aurora to take Audrey with her everywhere. They dug through garbage for bones to make soup and plucked mushrooms from damp caves to eat by hand. With quick wit they charmed the Barge-goblins for apples kept aside. When the Isle threatened to swallow them whole, Aurora Rose, plucked from her roots by the Faei of Dark, planted them deeper than anyone else. Even the Hellfire did not shake her, when it burned a daughter borne of filth and vile in unseen ways. /Her mother's bare feet forever scarred, walking the Isle up and down, up and down, up and down. Giggling like a child and demanding a starving daughter to play with her in the ash. A daughter born to take her place. /The Hellfire shook Phillip. He had barely escaped the boiling green flame of a Dragon of Dark only to fall into a new nightmare barely years later. It’s very rare on the Isle, to have more than one parent present, or even know them, but sometimes Audrey wishes one of them would just disappear. Just so that there would be less contention in the house. Less crying and comforting a barefooted forest waif who happened to give birth to her.If there’s anything Audrey can give Aurora credit for, it was the day she set Audrey free.When it comes to the Ilse, the real Isle, Audrey is a bit behind on everything. Ten years of looking at the stone walls and laminated floors of city hall while everyone else was outside cutting their teeth and building crews have widened the gap between her and her peers. When Audrey was six she was learning how to curtsey while everyone else was digging through the Barge heap for discarded razorblades. When Audrey was eight she was untangling Aurora’s hair like her mother was a child while everyone else was out almost all night, every night, carving out places for themselves and stepping on everyone who couldn’t get out of the way fast enough. When Harriet was just ten years old, she laid out the first territory and started a reign that lasted seven years. She changed the Isle forever. At barely a decade old Harriet created order. When Audrey was ten Grand-mère was teaching her about sex and how to please men, especially one’s husband. As if she was going to marry a man who would take her, and subsequently her family off the Isle, and then she would have to do her ‘wifely duties’. Audrey didn’t see why she had to. Aurora didn’t do her wifely duties. Outside of her conception Audrey’s not even sure that Aurora and Phillip have ever been together. Grand-mère is doing her duties, taking Philip in her room at night and Audrey knows, because when the noises get really loud, Aurora unlocks her door and gets in her bed and cries all night while Audrey tries to sleep.
/Grow a spine Audrey/
But all those trips with Aurora had made something clear. Audrey wasn’t like anyone else. She always knew that, royal blood is set apart, meant to lead, meant to be fundamentally different, inherently better. Three royal bloodlines, the House of Westergaard, the House of Hearts and the House of Roses, but hers is the one pure, and she is proof that it will endure beyond anything. She will endure the spitting and the sneering and the pushing. Even when Judge Frollo and his church didn’t recognize anyone, they of the Rose still maintained some status. Their world was wholly and utterly removed, the Isle of Grand-mère’s municipal grotto, a royal court dominated by her, limited to the stone walls and the fenced garden dictated by her desire alone.But it was the real Isle, cut throat and bitter and Lost that she needed to get into. Everyone pushing against one another. The kids around here were willing to do anything to anyone and by their standards she was so behind. She needed to learn how wield their standards. To surpass them. And she knew it wasn’t the way a princess would act but just for a moment she was so tired of the façade. Tired of the stiff necks and the corsets pressing just too tight and Grand-mère’s cane finally combining with her threats as a poem was recited wrong or a hand didn’t pour tea delicately enough. Tired of being so aware that she was growing up to fill the shoes of a disappointing heir. Tired of stumbling while trying to run after others in those shoes. When Harriet was ten years old, she changed the trajectory of the Isle for all children. Audrey, for better or worse, changed her trajectory at twelve.‘Go on Audrey’ Aurora had said, one fateful Barge Day, after dragging her daughter into the world against her own mother’s will; ‘Don’t you want to play with your friends?’Audrey wasn’t waiting anymore. As the masses charged, so did she. Better eating than some allowed her to push and shove just as much as she was shoved. She’d watched long enough to know that Barge charges were free-for-all’s, no illusions about dignity or who got to go first. She meant nothing to these people and they meant nothing to her. Faces she’d never seen before flashed before her. Faces she’s come to hate and some she’s come to care for.Her first haul consisted of a dented water bottle and a comb with three intact teeth. Someone stepped on her hand and her eye hurt where she’s been headbutted and she scratched her legs up when she slipped and fell and slid down, over and over again. But victory was achieved. She had carved her first notch. The Roses could survive outside the Grotto, and she would ensure they never suffered shame on the streets and in the alleys. Here in the now, Audrey prays that the Plan hasn’t just gone to shit. She’s bought them as much time as she can. She can just hope it was enough. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Devils’ Bayou is neutral ground on the best of days and a full-on viper pit on the worst. It’s pretty decrepit, even by Isle standards, which means it’s perfect for them. She sent Claudine back home with everything gathered in preparation for Ravage and Pillage this year, so it’s just her hesitating in the threshold. Alone. She rarely ventures the dark night alone. She doesn’t like it.
/She’s a bladed swan, gliding and dangerous. Her teasing smile is a trap, don’t come too close. She runs with the Pack. /
Then she crosses over. The storming night stops at the door. The inside it the warm type of dim, filled with a familiar sweet smoke. And humid. Medusa managed to wrangle some lamps and a working neon sign that provides the only light in flashing primary colors. The walls are littered with junk, carved masks traded from the Doctor, and salvaged road signs. A singular alligator skull sits atop the bar, caked in melted wax from waning candles. Heads turn toward her.
/Head high, hands poised, fingers just within reach of her fire poker. /
For a speakeasy, it serves a surprising variety of drink, from moonshine to a bittersweet wine. She can see Clay Clayton nursing a jug in the corner, a regular sight. He’s been barred everywhere else there is to drink and Medusa is known to serve everyone, with drink or girls. He’s not alone. It’s tradition on the Ilse to celebrate after a successful Barge Day. There’s always that lingering fear that one day it’ll just stop coming. So, if everybody’s getting a drink somewhere they have to be there too, if everything is right and not wrong and they don’t have a Plan to escape this place that no one else can know about.The place is packed, save for a table in the opposite corner. Audrey feels satisfaction in that. It’s their table, and everybody knows that. Music creaks out from the mouth of a gramophone, some old jazz tune, the name of which is already scratched off of the old record. Audrey heads straight for it, tossing her hair, the humidity already threatening to ruin her carefully set curls. The others will be here soon. She just needs to be in control until then. As she walks past, a few patrons offer lewd smiles. Audrey doesn’t bother acknowledging them. As long as there are no hands, she can take it.She settles into her designated seat, right next to where Benjamin usually sits, before feeling foolish for not checking under the table. It someone had been hiding there, it would have been an easy knife to the gut, armor or not. But that would require someone to be ballsy enough to try something after Benjamin gutted those boys in the square. Violence sometimes buys you a reprieve, one that’s holding out until today at least.
/Vigilance, Audrey. /
The first thing Chad taught her when she was taken in under their wing was to never drink alone, unless you could guarantee that your drink wasn’t messed with. If you did, and tasted something funny, you prayed it was poison and made yourself hurl. If you died, at the stroke of midnight you’d pop right back up again and be none the worse for wear. There are worse things than that to put into your stomach. Medusas’ girls weren’t always her girls.Audrey lets her gaze slide over everyone in here tonight, making sure to not make eye contact. The trouble with Henry Hans and the Fairy Godmother and that pesky poison knife was put aside for the Plan, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be on alert for anything strange. Her curfew and the whole ‘locked-in-the-Tower’ spiel make making moves after dark difficult. She’s been biding her time outside carefully. In anticipation for lamentation Sunday Grand-mère will already have drunk herself into a stupor. Audrey’s free as long as she can convince Aurora that this is a fun little secret between them. A secret date with a cute boy. A forbidden love that it’s okay break curfew for. Stars above, how cheesy and pathetic can she make it sound. If Grand-mère thought she was courting Benjamin there would surely be talk of matrimony, if she though the la Bête line worthy. Too bad this isn’t about courting.Audrey doesn’t have to wait too long. The failing clock on a far wall barely strikes nine, early for a night of partying. Chad stumbles through the doorway first. He looks like he’s been having a good time, if the loosely clutched bottle in his hand means anything. The ‘get-the-cargo’ part of the plan must have gone smoothly. Audrey feels relief settle inside her stomach. She did it, she got them enough time. Benjamin follows, shoving Chad, where he stops to hook onto a clamorous conversation at a nearby table. His face gives nothing away. The room quiets only a little. Then Marlow Medusa, skinny with a shock of hair standing upright, lifts a glass in their direction. A welcome.Chad returns it, lifting his bottle; “We’re thirsty, you gonna quench us?”The tension eases. Conversations are returned to, if a little loudly. At the bar, Marlow fills three tin cups with ale. The best in the best for the best. Benjamin grabs two, Chad one. They each settle in their places, as they always do. Routines can be followed and tracked and used against you, but it’s acceptable for today. Benjamin hands Audrey a cup, sipping from the other as he settles into that watching way of his. The hubbub contained in the four walls make it easy to speak without being over heard, if one leans in close enough.Audrey speaks first; “Who?” Her manicured nails trace the rim of her cup. This must look like a casual conversation. Nothing too conspiratorial.Chad answers “Two boys, one the son of some vizier, and the other that kid of the lady on the television who really likes dogs.”Audrey frowns. That’s all? Needing protection for the son of a vizier sounds serious, but for the boy of that De Vil dog woman?“I don’t like the big one. You shouldn’t get too close.” He looks at Benjamin. “You should be the one looking after him. He’s gonna be trouble.”She voices her question. “Just two?” That doesn’t sound right. It was implied that there where was going to be moreChad shrugs “I can’t stay long. We left Jane there and she’s gotta get going soon.” He looks at Benjamin next to him. “I’ll take the first shift.” He downs his mug, slamming it back onto the counter. Audrey reads men easily. Contention, between the two of them. Chad whistles at two women sauntering through the doorway together as he passes them. The he disappears into the dark again.Benjamin is holding something back. Audrey takes her first taste. Bitter, strong, heavy in her mouth.“You’re not saying something.”The best way to talk to him, short of sweet talk, is direct confrontation.“There are more.”He takes a long sip. It buys him time. Chad’s empty space means more vigilance. Things can go to shit in an instance.She slides closer “Benjamin, there are more.”“Four total. Those two and two more.”“I know how much four is.”“I never said you couldn’t count.”“Something you’re about to say is going to upset me.”He lapses back into silence
/Why? Why would she be upset? Did something go wrong? /
Did she do something wrong. Did she fuck up? The room feels wobbly. It’s her stomach, she’s fasting, of course she’s feeling woozy. Then it hits her. Why would he hide that there where too more? The two more must mean something, to her specifically.“Who. Tell me whose children we’re harboring Benjamin.”His eyes are steel, cutting as he looks right at her, into her. Afraid. He’s afraid for her.“I won’t ask again. Don’t make me. I am as much part of this as you.”“The Ever Queen’s-”His tongue is stiff“and Maleficent’s’”The world tunes out for a second. Only a second.Then the music picks up. Clay in the corner lurches, grabbing someone’s coat tails, and falls face first out of his seat. Laughter breaks out around him. Audrey doesn’t think it’s funny. Clay is nearly as big as Benjamin. One day he’ll match him in height. He already matches him in viciousness. One day they’ll come to blows, beating each other to a pulp. Maybe Clay will win. Another worry.
/Clay and Henry Hans and the Fairy Godmother and that fucking knife that is maybe from Uma and is maybe not and the Plan that will allow them to escape it all. /
So many things to think of, to organize, to keep track of.Everybody knows the story of ‘The Sleeping Beauty and the Wrath of the Dark Faeirie’. Once upon a time, there was a King and Queen in the Kingdom of Roses. The Kingdom wasn't really theirs, rather gifted to them by the three Grand Faei who took a liking to the royal family. So it was that for generations that all royalty of the Kingdom came of the Roses. However, a time came under a full blooming moon that a baby girl, a princess, Aurora was born. Great Celebrations were held and an auspicious match was found between their darling daughter and the young Prince Phillip of the neighboring kingdom. It was declared that all were invited to the christening. All but a dark faei that was scribe over the Magickal wood. Maleficent, last of the dark feai, was notorious among the humans for being a nuisance. She freely cursed those who wronged her and granted wishes that were more woe than merry, and in these things, she found joy.Forgoing her invitation, they called upon all other kingdoms to attend, and appointed the Tri-faei as honorary guests. Maleficent usually paid no mind to such petty squabbles, but something about the Rose Kingdom caught her eye. Their crops grew too auspicious, their cattle remarkably fat, their textiles too smooth, and perhaps most notable of all, their roses bloomed too bright from the likes of what non-casting humans could achieve out of the harmony of natures. The rest Audrey has to guess, because soon after that point Grand-mère becomes too belligerently drunk to make out anything she says and Aurora is useless at keeping a straight narrative. Somewhere Maleficent cast a spell upon her mother to have her killed, which one of the Tri-faei managed to circumvent, and then took Aurora to be raised in the wilds not scribed over by the dark feai. Then something something, true love between Aurora and Phillip, /unrealistic, but she doesn’t argue. /, only to have Prince Phillip battle the dark feai’s dragon and her great fire for the hand of a true Princess. To have her offspring here. The Dark Faeirie bore a child and now that child is here? And Audrey has taken it upon herself to feed and keep it?!Cast in the dark and green and purple neon Benjamin looks like a whole new person. The contours of his face have shifted. He looks older. Someone almost unrecognizable. She presses her fingers into her scar. A badge that says she’s part of them. A promise that no one will ever touch her. That she’ll guide them as much as they guide her. That hands reaching from the dark can be fought off. A Pack of four with two heads, she and him.If this were a fairytale, one of them would remark on the stars, how beautiful they are. But it isn’t. And the stars don’t shine through the barrier anymore. When did they stop? She can’t remember. During the Hellfire, the smoke form Judge Frollo’s burning cathedral battling the smog of Dr. Facilier’s blazing arcade blocked out the sky for days. Like a dragon had descended from the sky and breathed down retribution down on them. The Fairy Godmother had spoken of the urge to burn it all down to Benjamin, when it had already happened before. No sun, no moon, no stars. Just fire jumping and eating and so many dying over and over. She remembers it vaguely. She recalls Judge Frollo visiting Grand-mère, asking for support in eradicating the witchcraft of the witch doctor, as set out so clearly in the Bible, but Audrey doesn’t recall the Bible looking quite like the one he held, ragged with chapters missing and pages with violent handwriting added in. Grand-mère refused. She was scared, the only time she perhaps ever was. She had believed in faeiries, mighty casters and the deals she had made had landed her here. Why would she believe in the word of a mere man?Barely a week later it was a nightmare become real.Benjamin snakes an arm around her waist. The ale is strong. He’s barely buzzed but Audrey will feel it if she drinks the half left over. She braces against him again. It’s not very ladylike to cling, but Audrey feels low. The lowest of the low. What a filthy thing she is. Thinking about the Hellfire and feeling sorry for herself when it was a thousand times worse for him. Will he listen is she speaks about it? Can he bear to hear her worries? She doesn’t know. She can read men, but Benjamin is sometimes a completely different creature to a man.
/Why, she wants to ask him, why did you know and not tell me that it was her daughter? /
“When we get there, you’ll have to get yourself a coach with horses. Like a real princess.”By there he means Auradon. Why does the though suddenly feel unpleasant?Audrey does not bite back the bitter in her voice “I am a real princess. No dirty traitorous Dark Faeirie or her offspring changed anything about my blood. At least I’m not a bastard like her.” Benjamin goes quiet. Audrey hates this tactic. Placating conversation to assure targets, distract them, fucking amateurish of him to even try. Stars above, if they are even there anymore, she’s the one who taught him, one thing she was able to give him.Audrey’s tired. The scar aches and she suddenly feels very frightened. Like she’s back in that dark alley with that old man and his hands. Like there was a dark thing that could breathe fire hiding there. She swore she’d never bare that fear ever again.“Kiss me.”Silence.“I want you to kiss me.”Lightning flashes outside. The storm threatens another shower. The neon bounces in the slick spilled on the wooden floor, some of it still scorched by the Hellfire. She can feel her nails digging into her neck.His claws hook her fingers and guides them away. He places his lips upon the scar and the aching subsides.“Skip school next week.” He mumbles into her skin “We’ll do anything you want.”She’s still spinning, but the room at least has slowed down.Benjamin’s kisses against her neck are warm and gratifying. Exchanged one for one, the balance between them is always held that way. None owes one more than the other. But this is different. It’s reassuring and asking to be believed. Not the kisses of old men. The kiss of a young boy.
Trustmetrustmetrustme
And Audrey relents, because when has Benjamin ever kissed her like that. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Snipes is a big kid. He’s also a piece of shit, which makes for a hell of a combination. You know when he’s in a room, and you know when he’s not. Which made it pretty easy to realize that something had happened to him. He’s not one to give up good eating with his gut, not that the Hooked had been eating well recently. Still, Barge Day had brought Big Murphy and what was left of them a surprisingly good haul. Fresh oranges. Rare. Seedless, of course, so no hope of growing them, because of course villains cannot be trusted with fresh produce. But still, Hermie came through.So, the fact that he isn’t here right now, sitting next to Big Murphy, slurping the juicy flesh out of the orange skin, is a big fuckin’ red flag. He lost track of him at the Barge, after being thumped on the back and told that Snipes was going on the far side of the heap to ‘get the good stuff they hide away’. There is no good stuff, unless you pay out of your ass for it, and even then, there is no guarantee. But there’d been something in his eyes. Something he was curious about, something he would dig up in that sniffer dog way of his.Then he was gone. Which is why Big Murphy is here now, walking the strip of beach in the middle of the night. He asked around at all of Snipe’s usual places. He wasn’t getting sloshed at his drinking places, wasn’t trying to bully his way into an unfair trade, wasn’t making trouble like he should have been with the goblin boys. Which meant that something had happened at the Barge. And when something happens at the Barge, the only way to dispose of the problem quickly was to dump it in the drink. Snipes liked being a problem. With that shit-eating grin and exposed stomach, he was a hunter for trouble. He might as well have painted ‘come-at-me’ on his forehead and a big red target on his gut.Big Murphy wasn’t really that big. He was pretty average sized. He wasn’t a big fat threat like Snipes was. Maybe that’s what saved him today.Nothing had washed up on this beach, so he should continue around the shoreline, which would mean climbing over boulders. His legs hurt in the cold, but he pushed on. He needed to be steady over the boulders, so he didn’t slip and cut himself. The Hooked weren’t as strong as they were once. They couldn’t just go around doing what they wanted anymore, He understood that. Snipes never really did. He never was the same after they were fished from the bay after their boat sank. Neither was Harriet. They, at least, got to go down with the ship, but she was forced to die on land.The sparse moonlight guides his steps. Lightning flashes and already the cold air was whooshing again. This type of wind could easily carry a boat across the ocean, Harriet used to say.There! Something flesh and pale and human washed ashore. Big Murphy hurries forward. He clambers down the boulders, as fast as he can without slipping. There was no one left to watch his back if he falls. That was usually Snipes’ job.Expect this ghostly thing washed against the stone was Snipes. He could clearly see it as he came closer. He crouches precariously upon a close stone. Snipes’ waning bulk, slowly sloughing away the last few months, is an easy shape to make out. With a grunt he grabbed a shoulder and pushed the body over. It sloshed in the shallow water. He had touched the dead before, it no longer scared him.Across Snipes’ chest there’s a streaking mess of red, brighter than the hair sticking to his forehead. Blood, that had come from his grotesquely gaping neck. It shone silver as more lightning cracked through the sky.It was a striking couple of slices, bunched together, like an animal had done it. Then Big Murphy’s blood ran cold. An animal had done it, the same animal who had gotten to his captain Harriet. His eyes desperately search for any sign of defense, that Snipes didn’t go down without landing a blow of his own, and find nothing but his crushed and bruised hand limply drifting beside his body.The spray of the sea is cold. But Big Murphy wasn’t really that big. He couldn’t lift Snipes out, not on his own. Getting into the cold water in the dark with dead weight was suicide, and two dead was far worse than just one. All he could do was wait for midnight, and hope that Snipes had died from the wound before he died from the drowning. The Barrier only tended to repair what had actually caused the death. If his throat healed, maybe Snipes could pull himself out and up onto the rocks. Big Murphy could help him from there. Big Murphy had cut a throat or two. But he didn’t know how to fix one.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The Dragon who was also a moleWas sheltered away in her hiding holeShe protected her hoardFighting destiny's chordWith fire made only by Dwarven coal Limericks for the mad, Volume 3-Madeline Mim
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Madeline’s no good at hocus stokusShe lacks the skill and blinding focusBut recently there’s been a hiccupAuradon let magicks in, what a slip-upAnd it gave her the dreaded mind’s-eye pocus Limericks for the mad, Volume 3- Madeline Mim
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They’ve barely been in the maze of tunnels for a few hours when a lot of yelling begins. It echoes to them down the hall in their private chamber. Electric light peaks in under the curtain. It’s seems so bright compared to inside. Between the four of them, there’s a single candle to light up the room. The rock walls are rough. The candle light catches in the crags.Going from the dark interior of a box to the dark interior of a hole in the ground with someone possibly dead in between is not how they expected the day to go. The rain didn’t do anything to ease the shock. Now Mal’s just wet, cold and hidden away from the sky. Away from dragon-self.If it weren’t for the fact that someone literally died, this entire thing might reek of an awkward sleepover.
/This was a bad idea. /
Mal plans on telling Jay and ‘Los. She really does. There’s just not been time. This entire thing just escalated. It wasn’t like they didn’t think Villains might kill each other here. The thought crossed their minds that they might be killing children. That was the driving factor in their decision to clamber inside crates and be shipped off. But the kids killing other kids? This just opens up a can of worms.
/If they’re not even protecting each other, what will they do to outsiders? /
Mal has always considered herself a somewhat wild woodland creature despite wearing dark wash jeans and attending school. She’s a dark faei, raised in the Magickal woods her mother scribes over. And in the wood, death is natural. Things live, things die. Things must eat and things grow old or get sick or hurt. Even magick doesn’t stop that. Whether it be grass ripped from the root by buck or fish devoured by needle teeth nymphs, there is always a cycle of energy passing from one being to another.But she didn’t think that they’d...... do that. The order of nature here is all wrong. Mal’s not exactly sure what she expected anymore. All those ideas in her head seem lost now, a blurry vision of more or less set preconceptions, now smudged like wet paint upon canvas. Are they even safe here?
/Yes, no, maybe. /
/This was a bad idea. /
The yelling escalates. It’s mostly one voice. The blonde boy, Chad, as they’ve been introduced. It’s impossible not to listen. Evie at least has the good graces to pretend to hear nothing. She’s inspecting the blankets they’ve been given by the hooded girl, Jane. She’s separating them into piles that will serve as mattresses, and piles that are mostly still one piece enough to actually function as blankets. One pile is a lot bigger than the other.“It’s very.... kind of them to share.” There’s a slight twinge in her voice. “Though I did pack us sleeping bags, after that school camping trip fiasco.”Mal almost wants to shake the politeness out of Evie. She, Carlos and Jay are crouched by the entryway and listening in on the tirade. Mal dries his hair as fast as she can with the one towel they’ve been given. Carlos keeps wringing his fingers. His therapist says that he’s prone to stress. Mal thinks that panic is simply built into him. That’s what happens when your mom’s really famous for saving animals and going insane in public. He might actually shrivel up and die if they tell him about what transpired in those meagre few seconds he was in the barrel.He needs a distraction.“Your camera, is it fine?” Mal asks Carlos. She passes him the towel. Having damp hair and somewhat dry clothes will have to do for now. He shoves his hand in his bag, pulling out a slick handheld camcorder. He flips open the screen. “It’s good. I always keep it in a waterproof bag. I’ve got a full battery and a power bank. I got a feeling we might need it. Did you guys hear the generator running in the back? I thought there was a powerplant here. Wasn’t that part of the whole ‘Solitary Rehabilitation’ project?”“Never mind that, did you guys see what they hid our packs in?” Jay pulls his pack from his crate and angles it to show Mal and Carlos. “What is this?” He points to a sack of half-smushed rotten turnips at the bottom and a single discarded flipflop. Its toe strap is missing and a chunk of the heel is nearly torn off, hanging by a thread. The turnips smell bitter and watery. Jay presses his finger into one and it immediately gives way to soft mush. “Where’s the donated clothes and the protein packs? This can’t be it right?”“Forget what you know or read. Something here’s off. Like really off.” Mal saysEvie holds up her magick mirror. She had the first go with the towel and is the driest. Her hair still kept its volume and somehow she manages to not look like a drowned rat. In comparison they must look like insane water sprites. “Is yours gone too?”Mal nods, rubbing her neck. She keeps reaching and reaching for magick and finding absolutely nothing. Jay was right on this one, she wishes he wasn’t. It feels like Barrier sucked her magick right out of her.“It’s just a mirror now. It’s not doing a very good job at reflecting. I think that’s why mother made it magick.” Evie frowns “You’ll let us know if you’re not feeling good, right M? Magick-withdrawal is a real thing. Do you feel a fever?”Mal’s not exactly sure what she would qualify as feeling not good when there’s a slight hollow ache in her chest already, but she pushes it aside. “Bigger things to worry about E.”Carlos studies her for a moment, but says nothing, returning to wiping himself as dry as the towel will allow. Jay shoves the crate aside. “I think we need to interview the Barge crew first. There’s obviously some mix-up in the supply chain. I didn’t see a lot in the rain but man, there’s no way the Barge was shipping Agrabah oranges and dates. What we ship out for the Isle is a boat three times bigger than that.”“Maybe we should hold off on the interviews for now.” Evie bites her lip. “I think we need to build up better trust before we just start recording people.” she says, picking lint from a blanket.“And maybe put the camera away. As in hide it.” Mal says.“You think they’ll take it?” Jay asks“I think we need to keep in mind where we are and what certain people have been taught about taking things that aren’t theirs.”Carlos leans closer to Mal “This isn’t going to be like we thought, huh?” His mouth skews with worry.“Not even close.” Mal whispers under her breath.“Okay,” Carlos asks, “Where?” He hands the towel to Jay and pulls the camera’s pouch out of his bag.“In here,” Evie gestures to the bigger pile of blankets. “Then you can keep it in your sleeping bag.”Carlos hands her the camera, which she deftly tucks away. Mal scrounges in her pack for a pair of dry underwear. Some of their packs were those high-quality mini hiking-backpacks that you could fit a tent and stool in and put on your head when it rained to keep you dry. Mal hadn’t opted for one of those. She’d grabbed an old bookbag from primary school off of her closet floor and stuffed it to the brim. The only reason it was semi dry was because she had hefted her basket over her head as they jumped overboard.Calm and cool. They just need to keep calm and cool. Everything is gonna be fine.
/The shock of it is still traveling the length of her body, up and down, up and down. /
How E’s managing to keep a straight face, Mal doesn’t know.Without warning the curtain yanks open and Mal jumps back. They didn’t even hear the conversation on the other side stop. Chad, Jane and Doug file in. The candle flickers slightly, casting waving shadows across the room and their faces. Carlos offers a sheepish smile, but they don’t seem to care that they caught them eavesdropping. Mal glances at Evie. Her heart is in her throat.
/If the horned-boy isn’t with them, then where is he? /
All noise is startled out of the chamber. Chads’ gaze sweeps the room, landing on each of them. It lingers on Evie. He brings a can to his lips, and sips out of it. The silences stretches so far that Mal’s afraid of breaking it.Just as Carlos is about to offer an apology, Chad’s face breaks open in a malicious smile.“Attention, ‘my lords and ladies’ and everyone in between.” Chad takes a shallow, exaggerated bow. He’s careful not to spill the liquid inside the can. “Listen-ith while I lay-ith down the law for thy stay. Or whatever.”Jane and Doug have taken up positions on either side of him.“While we must keep you here, you must-eth obey. There are only two to make this easier to remember. Number one, you don’t make a lotta noise. Singing songs about manners and dancing are a no go. As hard as it might be to not belt out how good and pure you are, resist as long as you can. Shouting, also off the table.”Jay raises his hand “What is there’s a fire?”“Don’t interrupt. There’s not gonna be a fire. And if there is you’ve got a lotta bigger things to worry about. Secondly-”“You didn’t need to hurt that boy.” It’s Mal this time, interrupting.
/It was an injustice, a wrong that could have been resolved, that they caused by being here. /
“What boy?” Carlos mouths to Jay. He shrugs, equally clueless.Chad tilts his head. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you’. Isn’t that something your mommies should’ve taught you? In good manners school?”Mal clenches her jaw. She needs to keep this rational and calm, if that’s even possible. Maybe it’s even possible to salvage the whole thing.“We’re not taught to be thankful for death. He didn’t have to do that. We’re sorry if our...presence here pushed him into doing something like that-” She tries keeping her tone level. Evie’s a lot better at diplomacy, but she dragged them into this, so she needs to right it.Carlos goes pale “Someone died? Who?” Jay clamps down on his shoulder. He glances at Mal, and when he doesn’t receive acknowledgement, at Evie. She only subtly nods her head. As slowly as he can Jay moves Carlos behind him.Chad scoffs, “First off, Benjamin didn’t do anything that Snipes didn’t have coming. If it wasn’t gonna be there and then, it would have been somewhere tonight. Snipes should be grateful it wasn’t me.” He takes a step forward. “If it was me, I would’ve waited till he got pissed. Then I would’ve followed him down a dark alley. And then, I would’ve cut off his dick.”He takes a swig from the can.“Secondly, you might need to check your crib-notes on how this arrangement’s gonna work. Your great leader contracted us to keep you alive. Anyone outside the faces you have seen or we introduce you to, will exclusively want to hurt you. If you’re gonna eat our food and wear our clothes and breathe our air for however long this has to last, you don’t get to decide how we do that. You understand? That’s on us now.” Mal pushes forward. “We’re here to make lives better, not hurt people.”Doug scoffs “My life gets better when Snipes is out of action. That is one life I wouldn’t mind if it ended forever, knock on wood.”“Shut up Double D, you don’t even see the surface eight days outta the week, what are you even complaining about?”“Seven days, there are seven days in a week Chad.”Chad’s face turns red. His arm strikes so fast she can’t even see it encircling Doug’s shirt collar. Chad pulls Doug closer “I want you to really think about the fact-” He licks his lips “That the difference between me remembering this mouthing off tomorrow, and completely forgetting it, is how much more of this brew you’re gonna give to me tonight as an apology for being rude-” he swings an arm towards them “-in front of our guests.”A bit of panic has set in on Doug’s face. He tucks it away remarkably quickly. “Benjamin wouldn’t like that.” He says, adjusting his glasses. “He says we’ve got to stockpile it-”Chad’s voice goes strangely cold. “You of all people do not know what Benjamin does and doesn’t like.” He lets go of Doug, shoving him to the ground. “And from now on no one discusses business in front of them, alright?” He eyes Mal “It’s bad enough that they get to see our faces.”Chad stuffs an accusatory finger in Mal’s face. “There aren’t rules on this fucking rock. There is only what we tell you to do and what not to do. I’ll do and say what I want.” Alcohol wafts from his breath “Your kind should understand that plenty.” Mal’s not sure if he’s referring to the fact that she’s from Auradon, Maleficent’s daughter, or both.“Does he have someone who will bury him at least?’ Evie interrupts, “Or someone who’ll perform the death rites at his funeral?”“What?! Funeral?” Chad asks incredulously. The he starts cackling, doubling over; “You mean, you don’t know?”“What’s so funny?” Jay demands.“Clearly the thing you don’t know!” Chad heaves.Nobody speaks. Chad’s laugh fills the deepening tension. Carlos reaches out for Mal and all of them step closer together.Jane answers.“We don’t die here.”“What?” it’s Carlos’ turn to interject.“Well, we don’t stay dead.” Jane says again “Something the Barrier does. It stops our souls from traveling into the void. When we die, we just revive again.” She seems genuinely surprised. “That’s the point of the Barrier. It keeps us here.”“Every part of you...” Carlos mumbles to himself. She nods.Evie shakes her head “That’s not possible.” She glances over at Mal. “We’d know.”Chad scoffs. “You don’t seem to know everything you should. Trust me sweetheart, if death were permanent, we’d know. Cause then, this place would be a paradise,” he leans closer, leering over Evie. “Of course, together, we could make the next couple of weeks a paradise.”Jay interjects, “Exactly what I was thinking, though I have yet to see a beach with palm trees here. You got a bar that’s gonna pop outta the wall for a cocktail hour or something?”Chad tilts his head, smirking at Jay, “Something like that.”
/Yeah, this is totally the definition of getting off of the wrong foot. /
Mal shakes her head to clear it. “Woah, stop. So, he isn’t dead?”Jane and Doug exchange looks. Chad wipes his mouth, winking at Evie.Doug shrugs. “Well technically,” he adjusts his glasses. “He’s dead in the medical sense. No heartbeat, no flowing blood, nothing. But when the clock strikes twelve tonight, he’ll fully revive. It’s like...” He thinks for a moment. “Waking up from a really deep nap. And then the thing that put you in the nap is healed in an instant. The Barrier doesn’t heal everything though. Just the wounds that caused the death. It’s got that type of sentience I guess.”Chad sneers at him. “That kinda information isn’t free. But you have made me realize something Dorkus Doug. You-” he points at Jay. “-crossed into the Terror Tunnels without paying the toll to the...appropriate representatives. And as a representative, you can pay it directly to me.” He places his hand on his chest with a flourish.“You make all of your guests pay taxes?” Jay grinds out.“Only the special ones. You can give up your pretty trinkets instead of cash, seeing as you haven’t got any.” Chad pulls out Evie’s coin purse from an inner pocket in his vest, as well as Carlos’ wallet. “These-” He enunciates slowly. “-are for keeping money in. You know, the valuable paper? Silver? Any of this ringing a bell?” He tucks them back into his vest and crosses his arms.“Hey! You can’t just-” Carlos pats his pockets, “We only brought essentials....”“Did you really? How about you allow me to decide if what you have is enough to pay off your debt.”“What? But-”“No buts. Otherwise, your butt-” Chad leans closer “-ends up outside. Carlos right? Cruella’s kid. You wouldn’t want to get lost up there. Lost and accidently run into the Radcliffes. Old Anita and Roger have been keeping busy you know.” Chad starts picking at non-existent specks on his vest. “I mean, where else could you find such high-quality dog leather like this? What do you think Carlos? Should I get a jacket to go with it? Or-” he snaps his fingers like a new idea has sprung up in his mind. “-Maybe we could both go down to their puppy mill, and see if they can squeeze you in for a fitting?”Carlos turns pale.“There’s no need for that.” Evie chips in “You’re welcome to search our bags. In fact, you can take anything you need. We just ask that you handle our things with care, please.”Mal, still reeling from the earlier revelation remains silent.
/The type of magick to keep a soul from Hades is insanely complicated. It would require millennia of study. /
Jay steps forward, finger pointing. Before Mal can de-escalate the situation, Evie steps in. “It’s alright Jay,” Evie reaches out to him. “We’ve got nothing to hide anyway.” She squeezes his arm.He begrudgingly puts his hand away. Chad shoves past, shoulder checking him aside as he reaches for Jay’s pack. Upending the contents onto the stone floor, he crouches down and picks through Jay’s things for whatever catches his fancy. Doug watches with mild interest. Jane’s face is blank. Evie, catching on faster than the rest of them, lays out one of the sleeping pile blankets and carefully tips out her pack onto it. Carlos places hand on Jay’s shoulder, and without asking opens his pack and dumps out everything alongside Evie. They both take seats on either side, as if they could somehow have a say in what of theirs Chad gets to pocket.Mal tries as hard as she can to not look at the blankets where they hid the camera. She tries so hard in fact, that she misses Jane until she’s right in front of her nose. Mal startles at seeing her so close and takes a small step back. Jane’s hand peaks out of her coat. It shimmers very slightly, like thousands of small crystals sown together in the lantern light. Mal barely recognizes it as worn and dull it’s become, but it’s a faeirie coat, woven out of dewdrops collected by moonlight on pumpkin leaves. A dewcoat. She’s seen a couple on older casters, but in Auradon and even the in the Magick Wood they’re terribly old fashioned.In Jane’s fingers she clutches the chain with the key that identified their crates.“Copper. So it wouldn’t burn you.”Mal struggles to find the words.“Uh, yeah. Yeah, exactly.” She keeps her hand extended until Mal takes the swinging pendant.Mal doesn’t bother with a blanket. She tucks the pendant in her pocket, unzips her pack and turns it upside down. Everything inside clatters to her feet. Chad, apparently having snatched everything he wanted from Jay, remarks on it with mild annoyance.“Do try to keep the place tidy. We’re not gonna clean after you like your ten thousand maids,” He stands up and kicks at Jay’s toothbrush, “Pick this shit up, this isn’t the Barge.”Jay says nothing. He has that look on his face that says ‘we are gonna talk about this afterwards’, which he sends tenfold in Mal’s direction. Giving a loud sigh he crouches down and starts taking stock of what he has left.Chad seemingly doesn’t have any interest in Carlos’ or Evie’s things. He throws a cursory glance, before deciding that it wouldn’t be worth it. He irritably taps twice with his pointer finger on the can, and wipes his nose with the back of his hand.Turning back to her own empty pack, Mal finds Jane crouched and picking through her things. Her hairbrush is grasped by small hands and disappears within the cloak. Mal bites down on her tongue. It’s just a hairbrush. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter. If Jay can take it, so can she.Mal crouches down next to her, just as Jane picks up something rectangular and leather bound. Mal could recognize it anywhere. It’s her spellbook, with the corners all curled and folded. Jane studies the twin dragons on the cover intensely. Mal remembers delicately painting them in with a fine brush and paint made from shed dragon scales. Orienting herself with where Chad is aimlessly circling Carlos and Evie, deciding if he might actually want something, Mal fully turns her attention on Jane.“My spellbook. Mom gave it me. It used to be hers.”She delicately holds it, like she’s afraid breathing too hard on it will make it fall apart.“Jane, right? I’m Mal, though I suppose you already knew that.” Her eyes flit to Mal’s horns before returning to the spellbook. Mal touches them with her fingertips, They’re barely more than big awkward keratin bumps. She could easily fold her whole hand over one. “From my mom too. She got the horns in the family so I had to have them. There are others here with horns too, right?” Jane studies her face with a blank stare. She shrugs, placing the spellbook down with great care and returning to digging through the pile. “Somewhere, I suppose, if you looked for them.”Mal shuffles closer “You’re a faeirie too, aren’t you?” She knows better than just straight up asking, but at this point she’s looking for any point of connection. Anything to just get them talking after such a huge fuckup about the whole dying or not-dying thing.
/What else is the barrier hiding? /
Jane stiffens. Mal can’t say she didn’t anticipate it. She’s had the same reaction to the same question. “Somewhat, I suppose. Mother is. You should know who she is. She’s just as infamous as your mother.” She says quietly. Mal did not know that Jane was only half-faeirie then. A gap, albeit a small one, filled in.Satisfied that Mal hasn’t brought in anything of interest other than her hairbrush, Jane shoves the empty bag in her direction. “You can put all your things back.” Mal smiles the smile Evie taught her, bright and wide. It doesn’t feel effective. “Thanks.”Jane hovers over her shoulder as she repacks. She’s trying rather hard to not look at the purple and green dragons on the cover. It hits Mal then that Jane might have never in her life seen a faeirie spellbook.Mal picks it up and chucks it at her. Jane catches it to her chest, wild-eyed. Chad turns his head, his gaze flicking between her and Jane. Mal winces. Right, that was too casual then.She can still save the interaction “You can borrow it if you like. The spells won’t work, obviously, but it’s still good to have.” Mal tells her. Jane’s stare is unnerving. Mal begins to wonder if lending spellbooks on the Ilse if some sort of faux pas. Jane shuffles on her feet and Chad turns his attention to where Doug is stiffly standing.She almost startles when Jane speaks again.“You shouldn’t do that. You shouldn’t let me have it.”Mal pats the cover; “It’s okay, you can just give it back when you’re finished with it.”Jane pauses, like she’s waiting for Mal to take it back from her. Then she stuffs it up her shirt before Mal can. Just as Mal wonders if she really shouldn’t have done that, Jane scurries past Doug, who follows her out. Chad gives them one last glare, and ducks out, yanking the curtain shut behind him.No one moves for a while. Mal turns and looks and sees her friends shaken up by the flipped upside-down events, staring at her and the things in their hands and everything dumped out of their packs and probably thinking about the things they might never see again.Jay waits for the footsteps to disappear down the tunnel before he says: “We didn’t think this through, did we?” Mal spies his wrist bare of the golden snake bangle his father gave him.She’s suddenly glad that they hid the camera. It would’ve been confiscated instantly and they need it to complete their part of the plan. While the villain kids harbor them, they need to start gathering evidence to take back home. They’d hoped to do it with some cooperation but Mal’s got the feeling that there won’t be any on that front. From the looks of things, the villain kids like harboring their privacy, and like invading other people’s.“E, it’s time to start up a list. Of everything screwy here. Arely’s estimation of how wrong things are here is nowhere near what she thought.”“M casting a spell to tie a soul to a body after death is treason. Casting a spell to return the soul to the body and revive it is a war crime.”Indeed, it was. It was written in the accords for the foundation of Auradon as a democratic kingdomship. The laws had been developed to prevent the misuse of magicks for the purposes of war, to stop soldiers from being bound to the mortal realm after they died in combat. In the time of Merlin, casters were handsomely paid to ensure that armies never really died, by preventing the souls of the dead vacating their bodies. They could then simply be revived, pointed in a direction and were expected to keep following orders. It worked a bit too well. Whole armadas were revived over and over, not from battle, but from starvation or disease. There wasn’t enough hazard pay in the world for that. The accords were ‘instated to prevent the gross misuse of the properties of souls’. It was on the front page of the document for crying out loud.The can of worms was revealing another layer of worms.
/This was a bad idea. /
“Put that,” Mal says “At the very top.” <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Benjamin is less tired than he should be after the outburst of violence on the Barge and Audrey’s sore disappointment at the selection of Auradon peers sent their way. His recovery seems less.... slow. The murmuring scratching is always there, but most times after a fight, it drains something from him. He feels empty. Tired. This feeling is less empty than it should be. His heart should be beating heavy and his head throbbing, but he feels more in control. Somewhat light even.
/Guilty too/
Benjamin’s trek from the Grotto to the Tunnels is slow. The streets are filled with revelers and fires and shining lights lighting up an infinite dark without stars. He’s not tempted to join in. All successful Barge Days end with parties and after parties and laughing at the jokes told by the same people you’re going to rip-off the next day.The crowd now is meagre compared to when Ravage and Pillage starts. The annual festival of sorts, if one could call it that. The Auradon kids probably wouldn’t. It isn’t a parade with hanging lights and crowds cheering behind railings like he’s seen on TV. He was somewhat looking forward to it this year. It would’ve been the ideal place to start building possible alliances. But he’s hoping the Enchantress will settle her business quickly. Almost every kid will be out in full force, almost dominating the presence of adults. It’s the only time of the year where they can somewhat bully the older generations into staying on one side of the Ilse.It’s also the only time any of them can gather in such big masses without starting turfwars. Hermies’ parties always blur the line between friend and foe. She’ll set up her great circus tent and small booths and carnival games will popup. There’ll be some arena fights and crocodile wrestling, which Harriet always won.
/A gap is there now. Who’ll claim the title this year? Him? Someone else? /
Freddie will set up some of her father’s arcade games that survived the Hellfire with minimal damage. Others will buy booth space from Hermie to sell wares or services and Jordan might even agree to provide music. All of it will of course build up to the main event, the yearly game of Ravage and Pillage, and continue throughout. Only a month away, it lasts about a week. A week of cash practically jumping out of people pockets and into the Circus coffers.
/Audrey will want them all to go. Which will be harder with four additional bodies to keep track of. /
Four bodies. Four mouths to feed, four heads that think thoughts he can’t predict or stop, four wills to contend with. All of them very much not-from-here and everything that comes implied with that.
/And two of them are the children of their parents’ enemies. Their parents’ obsessions. /
The humming spikes. The familiar dizziness floods in again. The idea of braving the crowd seems unappealing. Benjamin ducks into a dark corner, trying to get out of view. He wishes Chad was here, so that he could close his eyes and lean against the cooling bricks and know someone was covering him, even if Chad was more drunk. The brew Marlow served was enough for a decent buzz, but it’s not fun being off your game alone. The thrill of knowing you could get cornered at any second is terrifying when it’s just you. But with a friend who has a knife the thrill almost turns into sport. It turns into proving you can win, no matter the odds. It becomes something you almost seek out.
/Almost/
He sticks to the resolute idea of making sure the packages have been settled in and finding a way to make this up to Audrey. The alleys and back ways are clear for the most part, aside from one or two sullen faces. Those who did not benefit form Barge Day. They grant him space to pass by. Still, he shoves a boy out of his way and knocks over a barrel fire. The kids sitting around raise their hands and shout protest. When they see his horns silhouetted, they scatter. Only a goblin-boy with slightly green tinged skin and two buck teeth sticking out of his jaw turns around to make an obscene gesture before he too melts into the darkness. No need for anyone to get too comfortable in his territory.
/It becomes something you almost seek out. Things to prove to new faces, clean faces/
The Maleficent girl is a spanner in the works. He’d though there might be some trouble in the bunch, anticipated for it even. The Enchantress wouldn’t tell him who she was sending but he could guess well enough. But he knew when he saw the green eyes and her /real, not counterfeit like his/ horns that the ‘problem’ it was a lot bigger than the Enchantress hinted it to be. Then emerged another, Evie, the only legitimate daughter the Ever Queen ever bore and things clicked in place with the rest. The sons of a vizier and political figure respectively. He’d known who they were the moment he laid eyes on them. How could he not? Their faces are on old propaganda posters and he’s pretty sure he can find them in the back of old ‘Goodness is everywhere’ TV broadcasts. Those old adverts had kids of all kinds crouching around the Enchantress while she read them storybooks about how to share and always say thank you and about how disobeying your parents was wrong. Then at the end they’d all turn to the watchers and do the stupid “there is magick in all of us’ chant. They must’ve been a lot younger then, because the ad was old. It had been running since he could peak in through windows and watch other people watching television.Maybe the Enchantress is running some kind of kidnapping scheme. Or maybe they’re teenagers trying to stick it to their parents by running away to a place like the Isle.But why would the Enchantress do that? She’s in charge on the continent, she’d need no money, why would she benefit from storing Auradon youth here? Maybe she’s punishing their parents. Maybe they revolted against her, tired of her goodness seeping into every pore of their lives, and she banned their children here to keep them in line./Unlikely. Auradon lives to be good just as much as the Ilse breeds to be bad. /He passes an advertisement for Claytons’ Security or Cemetery Services. It’s been bolted to the brick wall and someone has scrubbed away the Pack tag he spraypainted over it. The old bastard is stubborn. Tenacious. Always talking about the war he participated in while he was in the army before escorting airheaded girls and their fathers through jungles. About how he saved himself by taking what he needed to. How people like the Ape-man were just as bad as those on the other side of the trench for never having seen combat and hiding away in the jungle while his own sister had been sent away to the countryside for her protection.
/Old Clayton never gets the message that he’s not all that anymore. /
Using his claws he scratches off Clayton’s name. The only protection racket around here is his. For good measure he scratches ‘Bitch’ into the caricature of Claytons’ face. He leaves it at that. They can come back tomorrow and tag it again. He’s been meaning to do a round of collection and vandalizing anyway. Satisfied, he does a sweep of his surroundings. Everybody in earshot and within sight are occupied. Or at least pretending to be occupied. But he can feel eyes, picking at him. Somebody is always watching. He runs his tongue over his teeth. Time to move on.A thought crawling up his spine makes him walk faster.What if they’ve been sent here for safe keeping? What if there’s a war in Auradon and the royals who took the Enchantresses’ side pleaded with her to keep their children safe?
Mistakes were made. Things weren’t done……. exactly right. I need a hiding place Benjamin, for something so big, I alone cannot keep it a secret anymore.
A hiding place. Not a storage place, not a safe place, a hiding place.Does he care?As long as she holds up her end of the deal, no. Better to not get involved in their politics. When they get to the continent, they’ll see how things are going. Can’t be worse than this, so it has to be better, even if there is a war or conflict of some kind. If it spills over in a way that will involve them, they’ll bolt. Go anywhere that they can find, create somewhere for themselves if they have to. As long as it’s not here.He doesn’t bother knocking on the slanted doors to the Terror Tunnels. He doesn’t have to. Jane opens them just wide enough for him to enter and bolts them behind him. She’d been waiting for him to come back. If she’s surprised that Audrey isn’t with him, she doesn’t show it.His eyes take a moment to adjust to the bright glare. He blinks, one, twice and follows the staircase carved into the earth down to Doug’s workshop. He hears the rustling of Jane’s cloak behind him. Doug’s workshop isn’t too deep into the Terror Tunnels. It’s not shallow either. It’s a decent depth under the surface, enough that you can feel a change in the atmosphere and humidity. Enough that, if not for the extremely intricate ventilation system, they’d all be cooking like eggs in a cauldron. Benjamin has seen tunnels that go deeper. He’s never had the desire to see how deep. It’s a maze down there, tunnels that crisscross all over the Isle. You could get lost. You could maybe never be found. One of the reasons they chose the Terror Tunnels as a storage place for the.........packages. You can’t find what you’re looking for if you can’t even look.
/Worst case scenario, if they’ve been found out. But more than three hours in and they haven’t. They might actually pull this off. /
“Everybody settled in?” he asks Jane.She answers from behind him. “Blankets distributed, valuables confiscated, toll paid.”“We tollgated them?“Chad did. The haul was meagre. Not even worth it really.”Of course it wasn’t, but with Chad that wasn’t the point. Still proving all the time. Still, doesn’t mean they’ll give it back. He’s... curious about what Auradon kids might bring on a trip across a sea.There’s an uncomfortable gap in the conversation. Benjamin tries bridging it with something he knows they’re all thinking.“I know we hoped for a better group but it wasn’t exactly like we could pick and choose.”“I didn’t say anything.”None of them had to. The collective shock of Mal emerging from the box is obvious every time he looks at them. Shock that has obviously rather quickly turned to contempt. He pulls aside the workshop curtain and steps inside. Doug’s made progress on his lawnmower engine. The parts are carefully laid out on the table, drying from their swim. Chad sullenly sits next to them. He fingers a particularly interesting cog as Doug works his spanner into a crevice, trying to loosen something. He acknowledges Benjamin’s entrance with a nod, before taking a swig from a can turned mug.“Where’s Aud?” Chad asks.“She’ll take shift after things settle down. She insisted.”
/With venom in her eye, but is he to deny her rage? /
He nods. “She’ll handle ‘em easy then. They’re a bunch of bona fide idiots.” He eyes Benjamin. “But just because she can doesn’t mean she should.”Chad’s rolling eyes and hunched shoulders tell Benjamin what he already knew.
/Scared, for himself, but more for Aud./
“She’s a big girl, she can deal.” Benjamin adjusts his cap. She can deal. All of them can deal with it.“The Mal girl threw a fit over Snipes,” Jane interjects. “She thought he’d died. Like, forever. They all did. The reviving thing was news to them. They were even more upset that he wasn’t going to stay that way.”
/There’s an implication in that. Something he can’t quite put his finger on. /
Doug nods “Evie started asking about funeral plans for Snipes of all people.”Jane rolls her eyes “I’m surprised you caught any of the conversation, with all that staring at the Ever Queen’s daughter.”Doug flings grime from his spanner in her direction.
/So the Mal girl thinks you’re a killer. They all do. /
He is a killer. He’s gotten over that hill. It was them against Snipes, who was going to do the same thing whether Benjamin was alone or not.
/So be it. /
“What exactly-” Chad starts, slurring slightly “Have you gotten us into with this lot.”Benjamin crosses his arms. He’s thirsty for something strong, preferably whatever Chad has been nursing. “I’ve secured six souls passage to Auradon, and all it’s going to cost us is some babysitting.”Chad frowns “We’re four. Who exactly are the other two tickets for?”Doug coughs loudly. Benjamin points in his direction. “That’s five. Claudine makes six.”
/He’s not leaving her behind. Not again. /
“How exactly are we leaving? Is a boat gonna come by or what?”Benjamin shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t ask.”“What is she never comes back? What if they’re stuck here?”The question echoes in the chamber.Doug busies himself with the laid-out parts, Jane studying what he assumes is one of her journals. They are both terrible at hiding their interest.Benjamin grabs the front of Chads’ vest, pulling him out of the main chamber and down a side chamber. It’s the one where they store the television. Chad reluctantly tramples after him.Satisfied that their conversation will be somewhat private, Benjamin releases his grip. His claws have probably left pinprick holes, which Audrey will chastise him for.“She’ll come back-” he says matter-of-factly “They’re too important to just leave.”“Yeah? What if they’re so important-” Chad jabs at him “-That she only comes for them.”Benjamin squares his shoulders. Only Doug’s workshop has been fitted with electric lighting, so all of the side chambers have to be lit up with candles. He’s thankful for the dark, because if he can’t make out the expression on Chad’s face, then Chad can’t see his either. Both of them are talking to silhouettes of one another“Then they don’t leave here-” He jabs back, eyes narrowing “-until we do.”
/He’ll ensure it. /
“How exactly are we gonna do that? How are we gonna stop her from just poofing them away at any time?” Chad asks.“We’ll figure it out.”“How are we feeding them?”“The same way we’ve always fed ourselves.”“What if they revolt? Are we gonna discipline them the same way we get disciplined? Are we gonna beat them with pipes and broom handles and bite them and hope that next time they’ll just sit still?”
/He won’t flinch at the jab. /
Benjamin doesn’t have an answer for that one. He doesn’t know if they have it in them to revolt. He doesn’t know if it’ll be them that the Auradon Kids revolt against. All he knows is that he’ll do what is needed for the deal to go through. And he won’t need broomsticks while he’s got claws.
“This is the worst thing we could have done. Let’s say everything works out. Let’s say we get all the way over to the mainland. What happens when they decide to just-” In the dark Benjamin can see him pointing “-send us back.”Chad’s got an edge of panic to his voice.
/This is the worst thing you have ever asked me to do. To hope. /
Benjamin’s got to answer this one definitively. “Then we’ll have gained nothing. But we won’t lose anything either.”Chad shakes his head “No. We’re finally building something here Benjamin. You think our turf is nothing? You think that us beating Harriet was nothing, cost nothing, made us nobodies? If we leave it’ll fall away. And when we get booted back, then we’ll have nothing. We’ll be the nothings again.”He’s not being difficult on purpose. Benjamin knows that. This is always how they talk about plans. Everyone plays a part and this is Chad’s role. Jane providing information, him and Audrey laying it all out and Chad poking holes in everything. His insight saved them more times than he’ll take credit for. This time is no different.
/And he’s right about it all of course. /
“We won’t be nothings. If, not when they send us back, we’ll be heroes. We’ll be the scum that Auradon found too hard to chew and spit back out again. Our faces will be on the Goodness broadcasts, talking about how evil, rotten we are.”He just needs Chad to stretch his belief a little longer.“And if they send us back, we’ll make sure we earned it. We make her regret it. But we’re still here. We’re still business as usual. We just have a side scheme now. One that’s big and requires some more careful thinking.”Chad nods, convinced for now. His dark shoulders ease a little“You and Audrey are in charge of giving us a clean getaway on day-of. Pack your things now. We don’t want to scramble and waste time when she shows up in her gilded limo to pick us up. Say your goodbyes, spit in whatever faces you need to, set fires to what you’ve always wanted.” He can picture Chad frowning, his mouth pulling into a flat line in the dark. Benjamin doesn’t mention Chloe by name, but they both understand what he means.
/Chad’s relationship with his sister is ambivalent at best. Cinderella’s obsession with her children diverted into two lanes, neither of which was enthusiastic. /
/He won’t miss someone he doesn’t know. /
Business as usual. They’re still business as usual. Benjamin thinks back. If everything really is business as usual, then they should get back on track to what they usually do. They were talking about something else before the.....drop off. Someone stirring a pot that wasn’t theirs.Henry Hans and the Stabbington cousins and their school collection.Maybe two birds can be killed with one stone.Benjamin claps Chad on the back. “I know exactly where their first meals are going to come from. The Slop Job is back on.” Chad’s frame shifts. Now there’s a scheme he can sink his teeth into without any hesitation. He leaves Chad in the dark, to think it over, to come up with new holes in the operation, maybe to sober up a little. It would be best for now if he didn’t interact with the Auradon lot too much.Back in the workshop, he addresses Doug and Jane directly. Best to shake off any doubts now that might have grown in that silence. Or at least direct away from it.“Listen up-” he says. Doug and Jane focus their attention on him. Jane presses her finger into the page she was reading. Doug whips around eyebrows raised. “Chad says they’re softheaded brats. So, we’re going to appeal to them. The sorrier they feel for you, the quicker we can get off this rock.” Benjamin sends a sharp glance in their direction. “Humor them, laugh at their jokes, but do not let them get an inch. They stay in this hole and they will stay in this hole until we get to leave. That’s the deal.” He raises his hand to stop Doug just as he opens his mouth. “I don’t know what problem the Enchantress encountered, and I don’t care. For your own sake, I wouldn’t ask them about it. The less we know in the circumstances the better.”Jane snaps the journal shut, sliding it away in her cloak. Her eyes flick over his shoulder and he knows someone is approaching him from behind.Benjamin walks over to the table and leans against the chamber wall. He sniffs oil and grime in the air, coupled with the faint scent of rain still lingering. He strains his ears to hear who it might be. Soft steps, light, like Jane. Then hard steps, heavy and cautious.“Don’t look now-” Doug says “-but I think they want to talk to us.”Benjamin feigns interest in the laid-out parts. He can almost feel the ground vibrate as the party comes closer and closer. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a worn pair of purple boots take hesitant, driven steps into the light. It’s followed by a pair of blue and red sneakers. Mal, and most likely Jay. Benjamin shifts, just slightly, to be bigger. Jay is tall and wide. It wouldn’t hurt to be taller and wider.Every group of people has a dynamic of some kind, and all gangs have roles, self-imposed or just the way it worked out. Even groups of people lobbed together last-minute slot into places that they feel comfortable with.But this group hasn’t been lobbed together last minute. There’s history between them, enough for the roles each take to have been somewhat solidified. It was obvious at first glance and even more noticeable now. Mal took the lead in approaching them. Mal was the one with the key to the crates. Mal challenged the tussle with Snipes. She’s the head then. Jay her second because he followed her, because he’s standing behind her now, looking directly at Benjamin with a vague look of disgust, but obviously not the one with something to say.His claws twitch,
/Chad’s worry of revolt isn’t that farfetched then. /
The Mal girl clears her throat.Benjamin meets her eyes. In the buzzing electrical light they’re a dull green, but when he grabbed her hand and dragged her overboard on the Barge there had been a flash of color in a shade he had never seen before. That recognition is still there, just out of his reach and he doesn’t know why.No longer in the borrowed cloak and pants and half-drowned, Benjamin can look at his new guests and really see.Jay, Son of Jafar, vizier to the sultan of Agrabah, besides being tall and wide is also full. His jacked is pulled taught over his arms and shoulders. His shoes have recently been scrubbed. But his shirt is new, so new that Benjamin can see folding lines that haven’t been shaken out yet. Style over scarcity. Arms loose, strong jaw, clenched. He’s dealt hits and taken a few on the chin. Probably still has a full mouth of teeth. His gaze is determined, warning Benjamin off from coming to close.
/As if he could be stopped from doing whatever he wanted. /
Bright but idiotic. If he walked down the street, he’d be robbed blind within seconds.Benjamin searches his catalogue of kids he’s come across, looking for a face to match. Jafar and the Genie./Jordan. If she ever came across him, trust that the sparks would fly. /Jay and Jordan. Enemies by inheritance, doomed never to have met. Not that Benjamin intends on them meeting anytime soon.With Mal, Benjamin doesn’t need to consult his catalogue. He can practically feel Audrey’s anger seeping into the room, coming from even inside of him. Looking right at her, he feels his own disgust pouring out.Mal’s small and slight but wiry. Her grip on his arm when they swam for shore was like a vice. Like all faeiries she’s got a sharpness about her, in her eyes, in the way she walks, in the way she talks. That’s just a faeirie thing, not determined by magick.
/Jane’s got it too, just a lot less. /
The worn purple boots to match her hair is something Audrey would call gaudy, but he’s got the idea that Mal won’t care much. She walks in them comfortably, like they’ve been molded to her feet. Like she’s worn them forever. Her torn and sown back together jeans complete the picture of an Isle kid that might recently have taken a bath. Like he could find her escaping a scrap down an alley or rubbing shoulders with Uma. Her round face ruins the illusion.
/He wonders, if they had enough, could they make Jane’s face go that round too? Audrey’s? /
Mal reaches for the lock of purple hair braided behind her ear. His hand twitches again, metal claws glinting in the electric light. She’s intrigued by them. Her lean into her hip, fretting at the braid like Audrey frets at her scar spells it our clearly for him. Worried.
/What do you think of them, dark faei? Do they frighten you? Are you scared? Are you with your horns and magick blood going to survive this? /
“You’ve been told the rules?” he asks.
/Mistake. Should have made them speak first, have her show her hand. /
“They were.... made clear to us.”Benjamin nods his head in acknowledgement. He drags a claw tip across the workshop table.“Anything else then, or do you just like standing there and looking at us?”“We’ve had to do some reassessing. First order of business-” Mal crosses her arms “Is that you take us to see the great wizard Yennis Sidach.”