#unrelated but how sick would it be if the barrier broke and let the curse out. just sayiiin.. a lil theory thats been on my mind recently

[robinfollies]

KEEP THE DANGER OUT // KEEP THE DANGER IN

[hannahmcne]

Her Royal Highness - Chapter 2

Mal spent the rest of the day hiding far from home. The last few hours, in particular, were under the bridge she'd planned to vandalize that morning. In between the steel supports for the bridge was a small hole about twice the diameter of a car tire. It grew narrower the further back it receded and was about two and a half feet deep. The end of the hole was rounded so if she tucked her legs up she could fit snugly into the dirt. When passersby walked above her, their footsteps would shake the dust from above her. She could hear snippets of conversation float down. Mal had wondered vaguely at first if she'd hear Jay, Carlos, or Evie walk above her, but so far, she hadn't heard anything.

In the dark, Mal chewed on her hair, a nasty habit of hers she'd started a few years ago, and twiddled her fingers around each other as she fumed. She was so mad she couldn't even think. All her life she'd wanted two things: freedom, and her mom's support. Mal wasn't even allowed to use her mother's full name since she wasn't evil enough. And truth be told, Mal didn't know if she'd ever be evil enough. Ever since her failed plot to force Evie to sleep for 1000 years back when she was twelve and Evie was sixteen, she'd known there was something different in her that set her apart from everyone else on the Isle. Something she didn't particularly enjoy, that made her more attached to her gang members as more than just pawns and that kept her up at night listing all the things she could change if only she would be given the chance. She just wasn't sure what to call it.

At twilight, the dirty river started to smell different as the temperature outside began to drop a little. Pollution in the air underneath the barrier caused extreme temperature changes on ground level. She turned her head to watch the light levels change over time. There was dirt down the back of her jacket and in her hair and in her shoes. She wondered if her mother was right and if there might already be palace guards surrounding their house, ready to execute her to free the prince from any blood obligations. On that note, she had no idea how the palace would react. Did they still do the death row? That seemed awfully dark for a country full of heroes. Then again, they did imprison everyone who didn't fit into society onto an island for them to battle it out amongst themselves. They didn't seem overly concerned for any children on the Isle, even though she knew many of them were recorded with, recognized and noticed by the crown.

The shadows under the bridge grew sharper and Mal began to uncurl herself. She crawled through the small hole and grabbed the underside of the bridge to haul herself out the rest of the way and then swing her body up. She grabbed the rusty railing and pulled a numb leg up. She couldn't feel her entire lower back. Once she wasn't dangling up above the smelly water, she stretched her arms up above her head and arched her back.

Mal took her time going home. After all, the sooner she went home, the sooner she'd have to face the idea that her life was about to either change forever or end entirely. And that wasn't an easy pill to swallow. She took the back ways home and soon found herself raising a hand to twist the doorknob when a thought occurred to her.

Her mother was delusional, after all. There may be a likelihood that she had simply made up cursing the prince and whatever had actually happened in Ben's interview with the Fairy Godmother was a fluke completely unrelated to a curse. Maybe, despite what the palace had said, Prince Benjamin was sick? After all, how could Maleficent have cursed the crown when she was sent to the Isle months before Belle and Adam had ascended the throne?

Mal twisted the doorknob and entered. Everyone in the room looked up at her. She stopped momentarily at the attention, then did her best to draw a half-lidded, bored sort of blank stare. Evie, Jay, and Carlos all rose to their feet at once, and that's when Mal noticed all her things had been packed into a ragged purple suitcase and her one-strapped backpack. The sight chilled her more than she could admit. She wondered who'd done that.

"M?" Evie asked. Mal's eyes shot back to her and took in the concern in her blue-haired friend, who wore a blue t-shirt and a blue plaid skirt.

"Sup," Mal said. She looked away from Jay and Carlos and instead turned to examine her dirt-clogged nails.

"Stomp your feet off." The Evil Queen said softly. None of the villains were meeting her eyes. Mal felt a heavy weight fall on her shoulders. They thought Maleficent was serious. The back of her throat grew hot as Mal began to feel angry. This wasn't fair. Maleficent had no proof of what she'd done… yet.

Mal stomped her feet off and brown dirt fluttered out of her hair and jacket. She scowled and shook her head. "I'm going to go change." She snapped and stormed past Evie.

"Your clothes are down here," Jay called after her. Mal stopped mid-march, turned on her heel, unzipped her suitcase and pulled an outfit out before she began to march straight upstairs. No one called after her.

Upstairs, she shook all the dust out of her clothes and hair. She rinsed her hands off in cold water and then got re-dressed in a new, not dirty outfit.

She stalked down the stairs quietly and paused to listen outside the room everyone else was still in. There were whispers, but they were too low to make out. No one was stupid enough to let their voices carry in the room. She walked around the corner and observed the scene before her. Everyone was whispering amongst their parents in separate little groups of two. She walked over to the dining table and took a seat on it, whipping a chair around with her foot to use as a footrest.

"Where's my mom?" She asked Jafar, who was closest.

He wouldn't meet her eyes either.

"Napping," Cruella answered for him. Evie took a seat at the table.

"Mal," She started. "What's going on?"

Mal rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna be honest, I think it was a fluke. I mean, how could mom have cursed the crown when all the heroes were keeping an eye on her? And why didn't they find the curse twenty years ago when he was born?" She shrugged. "She may have just imagined cursing it. Mom's a little wonky anyway."

Carlos and Evie were nodding along to her words, but everyone else remained still. The muscles in Jay's arms were taut. Mal knew he was worried, but it wasn't as if he could tell her that with the villains so close by. Jay was the oldest partner of the four. He'd been with her since the beginning.

The thing was, this whole mess could really swing both ways. Maleficent could have dreamed it all up. Or, this could have been her backup plan all along. There was no way to tell until the palace themselves confirmed or denied it. But Mal didn't want to believe it.

She was her mom's daughter, a villainess. They wouldn't toss her out to the heroes, right?

"Besides," She started up again, her voice growing bolder and bolder. "Mom wouldn't sell me out like that. She needs me here to keep everyone in check. And she cares about me, in her own crazy way. Mom wouldn't just throw me out."

A loud and harsh knock echoed around the room. Everyone's eyes shot to the door. It was only a knock, but with such strength that it sounded like someone was trying to break in. Mal's throat went dry and doubts began to form in the back of her mind, but she quickly swept them away.

Maleficent appeared at the top of the creaky spiral staircase, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Answer the door!" She hollered. Carlos jumped towards the entryway and undid the bolt before he turned the handle. The door knocked against the wall with a rattle and a clang. Outside was a tall man with a neat orange mustache who was dressed in royal blues and another man, equally tall, with dark sunglasses.

"Evening son." He directed this at Carlos. "May I please step inside?" Carlos wilted away from the tall man and his hard, angry eyes. Evil Queen, Jafar, and Cruella all stood to stare at the man. Mal felt her heart slow down and began to panic as the man ducked under the frame of the door and came to stand in front of the table. A gun rested on his hip and the floorboards shook when he stepped. His accomplice followed him into the room with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. Outside, more soldiers were standing. Mal stared at them with wide eyes as the edge of the table broke off under her vice-like grip. Maleficent cackled in excitement as she hurried across the floor. Thump, thump, thump, across the floorboards. Hopefully, the neighbors wouldn't mind.

"Glorious! I was expecting you here tomorrow, but tonight will do." She pushed through her villainous counterparts and spread her arms wide as if welcoming the strangers to their very small apartment. The man only glared.

"Maleficent," He spat. "I am here to collect your daughter by order of the crown." The man's eyes darted to eye up both Evie and Mal, as if to see which one she was. It was dreadfully obvious, as Evie had an apple charm in her hair and the back of her shirt was inscribed with 'The Fairest of Them All'. The man stared at Mal with contempt.

"Yes, of course, of course!" Maleficent sang as she walked around Mal and put her hands on her shoulders. She kicked Mal's footstool out from under her as she walked past and Mal almost fell forward in shock. "Here she is, right here, and her things are over there." Maleficent took a hand from Mal's shoulder momentarily to point towards Mal's still open suitcase before she went back to holding onto Mal's shoulders. Mal suspected her mom thought she would run. Instead, she felt like she was going to throw up.

The man in sunglasses frowned and examined her. Mal's lower lip quivered. He took the shades off. He had dark brown hair and an oblong face shape. Clean-shaven, but with neat sideburns. He seemed to be a second-in-command of some sort.

"Lovely." The red-head spat. He snapped his fingers and a man emerged from the hall in the same uniform, but with less insignia. He went and picked up Mal's backpack and suitcase, pausing only to zip her suitcase up. They obviously were not very heavy to him. Maleficent pushed Mal off of the table and spun her around. She kissed both of Mal's cheeks with sickening joy.

"Bye, sweetie!" She cheered and shoved Mal forward. Mal stumbled through Jafar and Evie and stared at the imposing man in front of her. He glared down his nose at her. Evie hugged Mal from behind, and Mal became aware that Evie's face was very wet as the taller girl buried her face in Mal's shoulder and sniffled once before leaning back. Jay hugged her too, but Mal was too numb to hug him back. She could scarcely remember to wrap her arms around Carlos before the white-haired kid stepped back.

The guards stood stone-still and looked around. "Any other goodbyes?" The second-in-command asked. No one moved. After a few seconds, the two men moved forward and planted their hands on Mal's arms. One on each elbow, one on each shoulder. They began to march her to the door.

Mal whipped her head around and called: "Mom." The guards didn't stop, and Maleficent only waved with a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips. "Bring home the gold!" She crooned, holding up two fingers to her eyes and making a motion like she was watching Mal. Soon, they'd walked out the door and out of sight of her mom. The man holding her things was last out the door. Soldiers fell into formation on every side. In front of her, behind her, everywhere. Many had narrowed eyes as they examined her ratty hair and the smudges on her face. For the first time in her life, Mal felt more like facing the ground than looking at the world around her. Her chin felt heavy as she internally begged herself to keep a stiff upper lip.

They marched her down to the area in front of her house, where two pristine white limos were waiting atop the broken street. People had gathered in the square and were shocked to see Maleficent's daughter, pale-white with fright, being led to the vehicle. Mal's head whipped around to stare up at her home, and she watched as the now seven residents looked back at her with stony expressions. Evie was trying to stay her tears without touching her face and ruining her makeup. Carlos was trying to not cry. Dark shadows covered Jay's face so much should couldn't read his expression. Her mother looked gleeful. Mal set her jaw so her teeth wouldn't clatter together.

One soldier with a large gun stepped inside the first one as everyone headed towards the second. It was clear they had all expected a little more of a fight. The two guards holding her shoved her into the limo and the door locked from the outside. A deep, closed-in feeling settled around her chest. At the same time, it felt like a knife had cut the skin above her ribs. Not enough to draw blood, but only to sting. That's when she realized that this must be what betrayal feels like.

The soldier sat on the opposite side of the limo with his gun held at the ready. His finger was braced over the safety switch. Mal swallowed, sank back into the seat, and did her best to ignore him as she heard the sounds of car doors closing. The car began to move. Mal imagined she could hear her mother's cackle and clenched her fists. If wishes came true in Auradon, Mal swore on her name that her one wish would be revenge on her mother for this horrid plot.

________________________________________________________________

They hauled her out of the car to stay in some ruddy hotel overnight. Apparently, Auradon city was much further away than it looked from the Isle. Mal didn't see the two commanders, but the soldier company escorted her in and out. Mal fiddled around in the back of the car and nibbled on some candies they had back there because she was sure she was going to starve to death before they let her actually meet the royal family. Finally, she figured out how to roll down the little screen that separated her and the guards in front who were driving. There were only two. The second car was in front of them.

"Hey." Mal drawled in an exhausted tone, leaning into the driver's compartment a tad. "How long does this trip last?"

For a moment, they both ignored her, and then the man in the passenger seat sighed and turned around to face her a little. It was the dark-haired man with the sunglasses. "It's only a two-hour trip from the Isle to Auradon. But the gates to the palace close at nine and open at seven. Safety reasons. We were sent out at six-thirty to get you. They were closed before we got off the Isle. That's why we stopped for the night. We'll be at Beast Castle's Gates in about 15 minutes."

"15 minutes?" Mal asked, alarmed.

The man nodded. He observed her panic with a curious look, so she quickly masked her expression. "That means less than thirty minutes before we meet the royal family at the palace doors." He told her as she curled her nails into her palms. They still had dirt underneath them from the day before.

Mal sat down so they couldn't see her face and took a few seconds to compose herself. Before she rolled the window back up, she leaned back up and said: "Hey, thanks."

"No problem." The man said, even though he didn't turn around to see her again.

She rolled up the window and moved around in the small space. She noticed another window leading to the outside and wandered over to inspect it. It was unlocked. Mal rolled it down and peered outside. Fresh air spilled into the car, and she gasped. She hadn't ever smelt air like this before. There were beautiful trees and plants outside and pretty houses with porch swings and decorated mailboxes. She examined her reflection in the car rear-view mirror. Her hair was messy, and there was dirt smudged on her cheek. Mal tried to rub it away, but it only smeared.

The window connecting her to the drivers rolled down and a hand appeared holding a handkerchief. She blinked at it for a few seconds and then moved over to grab it. She wiped at the area where the dirt was and then handed it back up. "Thanks again." She told the man in the passenger seat as he put on a pair of wire-rim shades.

"No problem." He repeated and tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. She returned to her spot by the window and let the wind tangle her hair even more.

So, they were going to let her meet the royal family after all. Surprising. She wondered what their plans were. It was still doubtful the king and queen would allow their only son to be openly married to a villainesses' daughter, even if it was required for him to ascend the throne. Doubtful even more so that they'd give her any sort of power to bring her mother over. And even if they did give her any sort of power, Mal wasn't sure she would ever bring her mother over. Why would she? It sounded like the perfect response to her mother burying her in this mess; leave her to rot and descend into madness even more. Mal examined her nails. A hole had formed in her heart, and she wanted, needed even, to move on. In her head, she labeled Maleficent as a thing of the past and went back to wondering about the future.

She wondered if they would marry her to him in absolute secrecy and then kill her directly after the ceremony. Entirely possible, though she still didn't know if Auradon had the backbone to kill people. She frowned and moved once more to the driving window. She rolled it down and drummed her fingers for a few seconds before she cleared her throat.

"Hey?" She asked the guy in the passenger seat. He moved his head, acknowledging he'd heard her. "Um," Mal began. "Does Auradon do death row?"

The confusion the two guards shared was palpable. The passenger seat guy turned around and pushed his sunglasses down his nose as he studied her while the driver adjusted the rear-view mirror to see her. It was the same tall, mustached guy from last night.

"Why do you ask?" The helpful one asked.

"I'm… just wondering." Mal trailed off. "Like, are they gonna execute me?"

The guy took off his shades and blinked at her. "You're sixteen." He said. Mal shifted uncomfortably. "They're not going to execute a sixteen-year-old, especially after having to remove her from an extremely dangerous island in a mission that took over ten hours in all. If they wanted you dead, they would have hired a sniper. Except Auradon doesn't do death row. Or assassins. They just send them to the Isle of the Lost."

Mal sighed. "They can't exactly do that to me." She twiddled her thumbs.

"Yeah." The guy said. He slid his shades back on. "To be honest I don't know what their plans are. If it helps quell your nerves at all, I'm pretty sure there's a line in your mom's spell that outlines your safety, briefly though."

"Really?" Mal asked. So, Mom had at least thought of Auradon possibly executing her. That was comforting. Sort of. Still, Mal wasn't going to do anything for her mother.

"There's a line in Auradon's wedding treaty about that too." The driver said in an extremely gruff tone.

Mal sighed and turned to face away from them. She slid down the wall of the diving screen. "I don't want to think about that." She moaned as she unwrapped a small chocolate from the limo stash.

Passenger seat guy slid his shades off again and began to fiddle with the arms of them. "How much of this do you know about exactly?" He asked Mal. "You seem as confused as everyone else."

Mal shrugged. "I sorta found out yesterday." She admitted.

"Yesterday?" The driver asked in disbelief, looking over his shoulder for a second incredulously. "Your mom's had this thing going for almost twenty-five years and she told you yesterday?"

"How much do you know?" Mal snapped back. "I didn't exactly get the full run-down before she threw me to you lot."

There was no answer. Mal sighed and put her head down in her hands.

"Wow." The driver said after several long moments of silence. "That seems a little too harsh."

"Yeah," the other guard agreed. He slid his sunglasses on and took a deep breath. "Don't worry about it anymore, kid." He told Mal. "Hopefully we can figure something out and you can go back home soon."

"If the palace doesn't kill me, Mom will for coming home empty-handed." Mal blurted out. Neither of the guards said anything. After a while, she moved to the outside window again for the last time. The driver rolled up the dividing window, which was fine with Mal since she didn't want to talk to them anyway.

The car interior was nice with grey seats that were squishy and firm. It smelled like soap and there were little cupholders beside each car. Underneath the window was the collection of candies in small glass dishes that Mal had been snitching from. If she'd been on the Isle still, she would have stolen them and pawned them off for something of real use. Mal filled one of her cupholders with hard, fruit-tasting candies and chocolates, which she snacked on as she watched the outside world pass by. One of the guards kept a careful eye on her from the side-view mirror. She ignored him.

All too soon, the scenery changed and there were no more little houses with pretty swings and mailboxes. Instead, the world became acres of well-maintained trees and flowerbeds. Mal knew instinctively they were coming up on the palace. The outside world lost its luster after that. She rolled up her window and ate her candy in silent misery, stuffing her pockets full of bits and pieces to horde.

The windows, while heavily tinted, were still see-though. When she felt the car begin to slow down, she glanced through the foggy glass and saw a number of figures outside. It looked like the royal family had brought an army. Or the other car had already unloaded and the company of soldiers was waiting for them. She groaned softly and wiped a finger on the outsides of her mouth to make sure it was clean.

The car stopped. She heard the two soldiers up front get out of the car and moved to stand in front of the still-locked door. The door opened and she was momentarily blinded by the sun shining in her face, but then the two guards reached in and pulled her to a standing position and the sunglasses one effectively shielded her from the sun.

In front of her was the crown prince, dressed in a long-sleeve, button-up blue shirt, and black slacks. Four guards stood at the ready in case she wanted to try anything. He looked very surprised to see her. His mouth was open a little and his eyes were flickering up and down her frame. He looked handsome enough. Sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, a nice tan. He gave her an awkward smile that held something in it she'd never seen on the Isle before. Behind Prince Benjamin was Queen Belle, dressed in a yellow air dress, and King Adam, in a suit. Around them were many, many loitering guards with big guns and lethal glares.

Mal steeled her back and crossed her arms as the prince came to his senses and shook himself back to reality.

"Um, hi," He began flatly. Many of the guards exchanged glances and chuckled. Mal raised her eyebrows and averted her gaze. The prince's cheeks took on a red tone. "It's nice to meet you..." He walked a few paces past his bodyguards and stuck out his hand as he tried to meet her icy gaze without freezing.

"Hm, Mal. Best of circumstances, of course," She gave a sarcastic little half-smirk as the nicer guard released her right arm, so she could shake his hand. She noticed when he held on for half a second longer and snatched her hand away to rip him from his daze. The hand on her arm was promptly replaced. She sighed inwardly.

Prince Benjamin cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess it could be better. I'm Ben." He shrugged.

"No Benjamin?" She asked. He shook his head. Mal tilted her head and continued her half-smirk. "I hope you don't have a speech planned, because I need to use the bathroom."

The Prince opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, his father piped up. "Did you have a nice trip?" He asked.

"Oh, splendid." The smirk vanished from Mal's face. She began to frown. "Ripped away from my home and my life gone down the drain in less than a day." The two guards shifted uncomfortably, almost simultaneously.

King Adam didn't appear sympathetic in the least bit. He was fixing her with the exact cold, heartless look she'd imagined him wearing as he locked the villains on the Isle of the Lost. She'd seen it once on TV as a kid and never again since. "Well, hopefully, you and your mother will think about that next time."

Belle swatted his arm and frowned without removing her eyes from Mal. The older queen looked confused, to say the least. She seemed to be trying to take everything about Mal in. "Wasn't she supposed to be a bit older?" She whispered to no one in particular.

The commanding officer who held Mal's left arm in a vice grip cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, she appears to know as much as we do, if not less."

This appeared to be news to the entire guard and royal family, who all wore varying degrees of shock on their faces. The officer continued: "She told us her mother informed her around the same time we arrived to take her away."

Belle finally spoke up, voice wavering slightly. "She had no knowledge of the curse?" She asked.

"It would appear that way." The guard replied.

King Adam still appeared skeptical. "What do you say to all this?" He boomed at Mal.

Mal was not to be intimidated by the former beast. "Is it going to be any different for you to hear it from me instead of him?" She asked.

The king looked extremely annoyed. "Goodness gracious-" He began, but Belle shushed him.

The second guard laughed. "She's quite spunky. Interesting personality." He patted Mal's arm, lessening his grip a great deal.

"I can tell." King Adam responded with a glare folding his fingers together and popping all the joints in them at the same time.

"Dear." Belle snapped at him. It appeared she was still conflicted, trying to pick the right side when she couldn't be sure if Mal was lying or not.

"One more thing before we leave." The nice guard continued. He moved his arm to slide his shades down his nose. As he peered over the rims, he said: "She was very concerned you were only bringing her to Auradon to execute her."

Mal wished he hadn't have said that. She immediately turned her gaze skyward and pretended to be bored. Bored is the hardest expression to see through. If all they wanted to see was a villain, that was all they would see. That was all she'd let them see.

"Execute her?" Belle repeated, sounding horrified.

"Oh, we don't do that." The prince said directly to her. She moved her gaze to his collarbone and watched his mouth move out of the corner of her eye. "That's something the villains do." He continued. Mal made a sound that was a cross between a snort and a scoff. The prince and guards looked at her curiously.

Belle pulled her arm out from her husband's elbow and drifted closer to Mal. "You don't have to worry about that, dear. We're just trying to reach a, um, compromise." She motioned for the guards to remove their hands from her. They did, and Mal rubbed her shoulders.

"We're going to break the curse and then you can go home." King Adam growled.

"My mother will kill me if I go home," Mal responded automatically. She suddenly felt very vulnerable, spitting that out in front of the royal family.

"Not… really? Would she?" Ben asked in disbelief.

Mal rolled her eyes. "Are those words going to mean anything other than what I said if I repeat them?" She asked. Ben looked too shocked to answer.

Belle tried to salvage the situation. "We'll figure something out." She said, even though she didn't sound very sure. She looped her arm through Adam's. "Gentlemen, you're dismissed. Honey, we need to show Mal to her room."

"Yes, of course," Adam grumbled. He made a motion for Mal to follow them as they began to walk back to the castle. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was following and then refused to look at her. Most of the crowd dispersed, and only seven guards remained to follow her as she trailed behind the King and Queen. Prince Ben hurried to walk beside her.

"Is there anything we can do for you, Mal?" He asked as he gained a comfortable stride to match her pace.

"Again, a bathroom would be lovely. Also, not being magically bound to you and still being without a death guarantee would be nice. No offense." She smirked at the tall blonde beside her.

"None taken." He replied with a small smile. "To be honest, I feel the same way. Unfortunately, it's not that simple." He jumped to open the door to the castle for her and his parents.

Mal glared at him and furrowed her brow as she slipped through. One of the guards rushed forward to hold the door so Ben could rejoin the group. "What do you mean?" She asked in a hard tone.

Belle cleared her throat awkwardly as she led the group up the stairs in the main entryway. Mal's eyes flitted left and right to briefly take in the elegant entryway, but she was too engrossed by the conversation to take it in much. "We've already been in contact with the Fairy Godmother," Belle said softly. "She has arranged a team of people trying to rip the curse apart, but they've already admitted they don't even know where to start. The curse has many layers and is very complicated. As of right now, it's a hopeless cause." At the top of the stairs where a large doorway was, a hallway ran parallel to the room. They turned right and soon the front doors were out of sight.

A deep feeling clouded Mal's head. She felt like she was going to be sick. "So, we're stuck?" She asked and started to bite her cheek. She felt very lightheaded.

"Unfortunately, yes," Belle responded. She didn't sound nearly as angry as King Adam about that fact. Mal looked up and met the queen's brown eyes as the older woman studied her. She swallowed.

"What's the plan, then?" She questioned her shoes.

"We, um, were hoping…" Queen Belle responded uncertainly. However, she was abruptly cut off by Ben.

"Here we are!" The prince announced in a high voice. He gestured to a large door, but Mal was not to be distracted.

"You were hoping… what?" She narrowed her eyes and examined each of them, digging in her heels and straightening her stance.

The entire royal family was looking distinctly uncomfortable, and Mal had the feeling it was entirely her fault. Belle cleared her throat again. "We admit, we weren't expecting someone your age who had been equally hurt by Maleficent's curse. Much less someone who wasn't bent on becoming queen. On the contrary, we thought we'd have to hold you off of him, hence the guards." Belle gestured to the few guards who'd followed them up and were busy pretending to not be listening in to their conversation. "We were hoping to marry you quietly and grant you impartial rights to the kingdom so you couldn't bring your mother over while we scrambled to undo the curse."

Mal felt genuinely betrayed. How unfair. "You're actually going to make us get married? Doesn't Auradon have things to protect against this?"

King Adam jumped to defend his country's integrity. "The curse is over 20 years old and is technically hereditary. That means-"

"It's 200 times harder to break." Mal sighed. She looked away from everyone and examined the end of the corridor. The rules of curses and enchantments had been recited to her one too many times.

"Yes." Adam agreed. "How much do you know about magic?"

Mal snorted. "I live on an Island with a Magical barrier around it. My mother is insane and unstable and recites magic laws in her sleep. The most she and I can do is light our eyes up. Believe me, we've tried." She crossed her arms and dug her toes into the carpet as she leaned against the wall.

Ben looked extremely awkward as he rubbed his shoe against the floor. "Technically, you don't have to marry me. Except then I wouldn't be able to be king and we'd have to make a public explanation of some sort." He coughed and retreated a little.

"This is barbaric!" Mal protested with a frown. She balled her fists up and bit her lower lip. "Doesn't Auradon have laws to protect against this?"

"They're not specific enough," Ben answered immediately. "But in the future, we should definitely enforce regular spell checks to ensure that things like this don't slip by unnoticed. I'm not sure why we didn't start out doing that-" Ben suddenly clamped his mouth shut and looked very embarrassed. "But Mom and Dad did do a great job helping Auradon startup. It sure wasn't easy to do everything they did."

"This is so unfair..." Mal sighed as she turned away from the family.

"Tell that to your mother," Adam muttered under his breath.

Mal glared at him. "Sure." She snapped. "I'll let her know as soon as this whole thing is over and I'm sent back to your orchestrated prison so you never have to think about how I'm costing you your throne again. Maybe I'll be able to get the words out before she slits my neck or bashes my brains across the sidewalk for not bringing her over because believe me when I say I'm leaving her to rot!"

Belle opened her mouth again as Adam swelled with rage. "We'll have to go back to the drawing board, as they say." She rested a hand on Adam's shoulder. "We truly weren't expecting someone who wasn't planning on riding this curse to its full effects." There was an apology in her tone, and this was what Mal latched onto.

Adam jumped in, however, and Mal felt a headache form. Did the king and queen have to be such polar opposites? "Do think about it though. We know it's not the best situation, but the kingdom is already rampant with rumors, and-"

"Don't trouble her with any of that." Queen Belle commanded quietly. "This isn't something that should concern the kingdom. This is her whole life we're talking about. She needs to make her own decision." With these words, Mal finally garnered the courage to look up and examine Belle.

Mal had never met a woman like the queen, who was willing to put aside differences and first meetings to help console a teenager whose life was being rearranged. Mal managed a smile at the queen, who seemed surprised, but smiled back anyway.

"We'll try and come up with new ideas of course." King Adam babbled on as Belle started to lead him away.

"Of course we will," Belle said. "And now Mal can be a part of the proceedings. But let's go now. Mal needs to use the restroom, and probably shower too."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Mal said softly. The queen smiled softly and turned to lead her husband away by his elbow. All of the guards followed without order or gesture.

Ben moved out of the doorframe as Mal moved closer to the door. Before she could turn the knob, he began to speak. "Y'know, I won't hold it against you if you choose to not marry me. I'll understand."

Mal blinked. The young prince refused to meet her eyes as pink filled his cheeks. "You know…" She began with a sarcastic smirk. "…in most places they would call that a guilt trip."

Ben's eyes flitted up and met hers. There was no magic in that proverbial contact. "No offense, I'm kind of surprised to meet a villain kid like you."

Mal furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?" She questioned.

He held up his hands in defense. "Not interested in taking over the world for starters. How did Maleficent raise a kid like you?"

Mal chuckled dryly, and it was about that time it occurred to her that her throat was unbelievably dry. That must be why she felt so light-headed. "Usually I'm interested." She admitted as she licked her lips. They were beginning to become chapped. "But forced marriage to the crown prince is slightly more important, you know?" She pinched her fingers together to exemplify exactly how minutely important this was.

Ben laughed, which startled Mal because so far, none of the royals had thought her sarcasm was funny. "Yeah, I guess I can see that." He chuckled.

Mal cocked her head at him and examined his stance. The way he clung to the wall and searched her hostile stance made her furrow her lips in thought. "You're not very confident in yourself, are you?" She asked.

Ben shrugged and looked overall uncomfortable with the question. "I dunno." He trailed off. "I'm still learning the rungs, you know."

Mal watched as he shifted his weight from foot to foot and let his gaze flicker between her eyes, her collarbone, and the floor. "Yeah. Whatever. Anyways, I need to take a shower now." Mal reached for the handle.

"Right!" Ben reached out and opened the door for her, narrowly avoiding hitting her in the nose. "Bye." He waved with a small, embarrassed smile as she ducked under his arm.

"Bye." She waved in return and stepped inside.

The door swung closed, and she fell against the heavy wooden entrance in exhaustion. On the other side of the door, she heard a soft whisper of: "Nice to meet you too." Before footsteps carried the speaker away. She laughed a little. The remark hadn't been mean, or angry, only intrigued. Mal turned and couldn't stop an odd smile that spread around her mouth as she pressed her ear to the door, wondering if she'd hear more muttering from the Prince. There was none, but Mal was still intrigued. What an interesting collection of people.

[theouterdark]

The Call of the World or: A Godless Man in Purgatory - Part 4

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Find me a woman who can speak to the spirit of Death. I'll go to her and find out what's going to happen.

I have done a foolish thing. The Call echoed too strongly through the rocks and the sea for me to resist its summons a moment longer. The night after the Other arrived it thrummed through the resonant stone and beckoned me follow.

Come. Come closer, it said.

I tried to snuff it out with mud, and resorted to pounding my skull against the cliff until my eyes went wet with blood, but still it would not quiet.

Follow me, it said. Do not tarry. I will bring you home.

And how could I resist? What right did I have to ignore it? If I was ever meant to leave; it was then, with the Other slumbering in the palm grove, and the wind low and swaying through the reeds beside Cassilda’s broken spine.

I visited my love for comfort, and wondered if she’d beg me to let the Call go unanswered, as she had a thousand times before. Not without her, she’d told me. Together, not before. That is what she used to say.

I may be back again, I said, and soon. But if I don’t return, do not worry. I will find you in the end. My heart will always come back to you.

She had no words for me. She’d had none since the island snapped her neck and mangled the song that once billowed in her sails. But still I knelt beside her and said goodbye.

On the other side of the bamboo forest, beneath the bending palms, the first discordant whiskers emerged above the Other’s lips, and I thought at once of my third morning on the island, when I yearned to shave the shadows off. But perhaps he had a razor with him, in what remained of his kit bag there at his feet.

Best slit his throat now, and be done with it.

But no. It was not my right to take his life. That choice was his only real possession anymore. Now that the island had taken him in. I let him sleep soundly one last time, before the Call started whispering to him at night and flooding his dreams with thoughts of home.

He rolled over so his back was to the smoldering remains of the fire he’d built.

Enjoy the warmth while you can, I whispered, before the cold turns your heart to ice.

Better we didn’t know each other. It would be hard, if we knew each other. I would not have liked to leave him how my fellows left me. But we didn’t know each other. I could find solace in that. Encouragement, even. Perhaps he would find Cassilda, and resurrect her—succeed where I had failed—and once she was ready they could leave together. I would like that for her.

When I started to climb the rocks, the sea rose, and the island began to quake as it grew suspicious of my intentions. It did not suffer traitors gladly. It has never done.

A flicker of a thought passed. Turn back. Wake him, it said.

And I nearly did.

We have always been opposed, you and I, I told the island. But if my destiny lies on your shores at least I can make you work for it.

It would not do to dwell now that my mind was made. Not now the island knew for truth that which my heart held dear. The Call—and my drive to answer it—was always my purpose, not to rot here for eternity.

And so I climbed. And the island got mean.

The beast was where the Other left it, sloppily moored adrift in the rain-swept firth beyond the Devil’s Backbone—a spine of razor rock spires, always slick with brine—and the beast was scared, for it shrieked in a pained iron voice that cut through the din as the island tried to trap it in the shallows.

Thunder rent the sky in half.

The wind hollowed me out.

Shuddering went the waves that crashed.

I was not going to stop. Not for tremoring earth, nor sky. So I ventured out onto the crest of a crag a hundred feet above the bank—where the Backbone below broke the surf into an eddied, vicious place—and poised myself to leap, but the lightning must have shattered the ridge because I went tumbling end-over-end at the sound of a blast and a light so bright it burned my eyes. Shrapnel sliced straight through my clothes. I caught a whiff of singed hair. Then I slapped into the surf with a force I’d not known, and choked on a lungful of fear and salt.

A swell dragged me back and under before rolling me over and out into a sharp, slick rock which punctured bone. I screamed, but no one heard, as my blood mingled with the fire of brine.

Emerging from the sea like the trident of Poseidon, a rock came forth and pierced the iron beast, and so its scream joined mine.

But I was not done.

I kicked off the rock and water flooded my wound, and I winced, but I would not surrender to the cold and the heat and the malevolent tones of the island’s maddening squalor. Come back, it demanded. Come back at once.

I chewed back a curse, and spake out its name, and whispered to it between coughs and sputters, But I am a traitor now. And in your heart you will always know that is true.

Twice my legs failed to propel me through the chaotic shallows. They came undone beneath me and drifted apart like a boiled frog’s legs, and in my heart burned an incorrigible fear—that I would wake up on the sand as I had always done. And I hated that fear. I’d been weak. Foolish. I allowed the Call of the World to give me hope when there was none to be had.

I stole away still, and climbed a black netting left dangling from the beast’s scratched nose. The wind bucked, the rocks pierced, and the beast screamed, and I would have fallen if not for the grace of my own quickness. I tangled my legs in knots when the swells brought the beast yawing and dipped me beneath the water again. When finally I reached the top, I scraped myself over the taffrail like a knife with too much butter and dropped in a heap of softened muscle upon the iron deck, where the beastly groans beneath popped and strained against the island’s unrelenting scorn.

Lightning arced through the upper atmosphere as dark and terrible clouds gathered there, as if conjured. And I dragged myself moaning to a crooked stand on the bow, which seemed ever so much higher than it did from below. Waves broke the deck, and sent me into a shambling run for the cabin door, which was heavy, and metal, and grey. It groaned at the joints when I leaned on it, and here I now sit, in a pile at the wheel of the ship.

The controls I don’t know.

The manuals and books are penned in a dialect I do not recognize or try to decipher. With each pull of a lever and press of a button, the island responds in kind, as if on a lark I dared out to the beast, and expects me to come slinking back.

And now a mighty boon comes—a light in the shape of a star. And the gauges react and an engine ignites, and the wheel is responding too.

But its pace is a crawl, and the island is sick, and it sends onto me its force undiluted, and rolling now, iron into stone, as the nose points out to see. And a shriek of hatred bellows behind as I find what throttles the beast.

Behind us, water frothing, the island cannot pursue, but I hear its curses as I speed onward and over the swells near the reef. And when the beast and I crest, I hear it croon in apprehension, and we plummet and carve a path down and away, and for a moment there’s no island in sight, and I cannot believe my fortune.

But then we come back up, and its there again, and usually not where I left it. First aft, then abeam starboard and port, and then before us, waiting again.

And to my displeasure it seems no further away. But then I hear something on the edge of the wind, and come out of the cabin to spy it. Some distance on, below a shrouded blood moon, is the edge, the end, the great line before the horizon.

Over the Edge the waves thunder, down and beyond forever. And what first is fear becomes snarling cheers, as I push the beast on to meet her. The Edge of the World. The End. The Plummet.

I know not what to name it. But beyond that barrier, I hear the Call of the World, and I know now I can escape this place, just as the others before me left me behind, so would I leave the island, and the Other to be its companion.

The firelight on the southern shores has been doused by the island’s torrential frenzy. The Other can be its keeper now. I have no more desire to waste away in that wretched place. It can suffer with him, as I did with it.

The beast groans, and yields to waves taller than I’ve ever seen. I plow through them with a tooth-baring grin, and bellow at the top of my lungs, I’ve heard your plight, island, and I feel for you not. Surely this cannot be all you can muster!

Then the island shrieks its horrid gales, and sends rain down like bullets to welt and dent, and splatter. The waves rise higher than the peak of the island, and lightning spiderwebs across the bow like a furious gossamer trap, but we slide right through; it must be desperate now, it’s trying harder than ever before.

But the Call is just beyond the Edge of the World, past the Plummet, and it rumbles up through my feet. And here now, at the penultimate peak, I gaze down upon the thundering roar of water falling forever, down and away, and my heart opens to it.

We float atop this crest, the beast and I, for an age onto another. A bright age so beautiful my eyes fill with tears, as finally we start to tip over.

A mighty roar breaks the vessel in two, and the World twists ninety degrees. I come to the Plummet, and I cry and I shake at the joy of the moon hanging in a void of black emptiness.

A starless black sea before me.

The roar of the Edge, behind.

The Call of the World echoes with it, through the bones of the beast, left churning above, and I nosedive into oblivion.