Chapter Text
“Sorry, I can't believe this,” says Mal. The words don't feel real when they leave her mouth, and they sound like a distant echo in Ben's ears. Then she takes a couple of steps back toward the cottage door, and though she stops and doesn't even turn to leave, Ben knows that what's in her heart is the same crushing terror he feels. Because, although he doesn't want to believe it either, he can't lie to himself.
"Well, you'll have to do it," Audrey resolves firmly. "You are the ones who have lived the last three months locked up on the Isle of the Lost, am I wrong?"
There is something a little angry in her voice, something different from the usual polite Audrey.
What they've just been told, what Auradon is doing, is something so despicable that Ben can't put a name to it, not even in his thoughts. If he does, if he names it, he would finally give up everything he ever thought was safe in his life. If he does, he would have to accept that his parents are not the people he always thought they were.
How to accept so much hate? That Auradon had punished the villains was one thing, a mistake that Ben had tried to patch up, but now that he had lived on the Isle, that he had suffered just like other people, it was just sick. Before, he had thought that the people of Auradon, his father, and the heroes, just needed a different perspective. How could he have been so naive?
“The Royal Council must be manipulating Ben's parents. They would never do something like that,” Mal continues. Ben's heart sinks at the desperation in her voice, a slight tinge no one else in the room would pick up on because only he knows her like that. She looks at him, searching for steadiness, but Ben can't be blinded once more. "They have always wanted the best for Auradon".
"Mal..."
But before Ben can continue searching for the right words to tell her that he believes in Audrey, even as he feels her betrayal stabbing him in the stomach, Jane intervenes. Ben doesn't want to look at her, doesn't want to see the ghost of a dear friend, turned pale, thin, overwhelmed, broken, so he focuses his attention on Audrey because she is the closest thing to the sense of security that his childhood memories evoke.
“I didn't want to believe that my mother would agree, Mal, but when the decree was approved and all of you were sent there...” Ben remembers it well. They had said it was a temporary migration, and then they closed the barrier forever again. “I wanted to go with Carlos, like Ben went with you, but she made me stay. She knew what they would do to you".
The Fairy Godmother, who used to teach them Remedial Goodness classes, as if she thought they had a chance to be better...
“There are members of the Royal Council who never agreed on Ben's reforms, anyway, and there has been pressure from other kingdoms to get all the villains out of here,” continues Audrey, relentless, “My grandmother is one of them. She never wanted you to be queen, Mal, and she wasn't the only one".
“So,” Ben begins, squeezing Mal's hand to let her know that no matter how hard the blow is, he's there, that he's not going to leave, but he has to know. "Who is in charge?"
The cottage is silent for a moment, only the sound of animals outside. Ben has so many memories here, between the brown walls. Also memories of a destroyed reality evaporate, as if new truths could sneak into his past and change them. He had never realized how planned his life had been until Mal came along and broke his spell.
“In charge of what?” Jane asks, not understanding.
“In charge of a plan. We need to get people off the Isle, Mal and I promised”.
Audrey snorts, crosses her arms, and for an instant, something like sadness clouds her face.
“There’s no plan, Ben. People here don’t know anything. They believe what the Council says, what your parents say. They will believe that Mal convinced you to give up everything and that you gave your title to Chad, and that the Isle is now a paradise to live, and there is no more”.
“No one is doing anything, then?”
It’s a beautiful day out there, but in the cottage the air feels thick; the silence, endless.
“I’m not going to believe this until we have proof, I’m sorry,” says Mal. Ben’s heart, in an attempt not to break, accepts his wife’s words and makes them his own. “I know you’re trying to do the right thing, Audrey, but this must all be a huge misunderstanding, and it’s just Ben’s and my responsibility.”
“Mal and I are going to figure it out. People will be free again”.
Because if he did it once, he can do it again.
“This sucks,” Gil laments. Harry agrees because he looks at the weekly supplies hidden in their clothes, and realices this isn’t enough for even a small family, how will they manage to feed an entire crew? It’s so humiliating that Harry doesn’t even want to show it to Uma. Not even the effort she puts in working at the Fish and Chips seems to be enough this time.
“Where is the captain?” he asks. Bonny, a wide brush dripping with varnish in her hand, abandons the task of varnishing the gunwale when she realices that the first mate and second mate have returned to the ship. She’s works hard, as do Desiree and Gonzo and Jonas, and Harry suddenly knows that Uma is upset about something.
“The last time I saw her, she was going to her cabin,” the pirate replies, shrugging her shoulders, as if she really doesn’t care. Harry never has a hard time seeing under his sailors façade anymore. He understands the ways Bonny hides her concern behind her indifference, and he knows that Desiree’s ferocity hides healing hands, but only when it comes to them, to the crew.
Harry wastes no time looking for explanations. He hands Gil the cans, the bagged dried vegetables, the few bottles of drinking water, and hurries down the stairs into the Lost Revenge. As he walks away from the upper deck, he hears the crew murmuring upstairs, but he doesn’t stop down the hall until he reaches Uma’s cabin.
The door is locked, so he knocks a couple of times. The ship rocks from side to side, grinding a wail. If they were in the open sea, the ocean would crash on the sides of the Revenge, so desperate.
“Uma, love?”
His voice is a whisper rough as the cordage.
He hears her angry footsteps in the room, and then Uma opens the door. He can tell by her expression that something is up, but then the gleam in her eyes changes and there is only relief, such relief to see him there. Uma is haughty, powerful, and she can make Harry feel like the sea is invading his lungs.
“Were there any incidents?” she asks, making sure her people are okay first and foremost. Harry denies.
“Gil’s fine, I’m fine,” he says, and he reaches for a hug. Uma, however, finds his mouth for a fleeting kiss. After that, Harry finds it hard to regulate the rhythm of his breathing. “Nerea?”
Not that he’d ever thought about the real possibilities of having children, of having a daughter with her, but it doesn’t bother Harry to discover that a part of him is always yearning to hold her in his arms.
“She’s taking a nap,” she takes Harry’s hand and leads him into the cabin, closing the door behind them. Everything seems to be in order and, even so, Uma is distant, strange. As Harry walks over to the crib to caress his little starfish, Uma exhales. He looks at her, and the question hangs between them, all too obvious.
“I’m sure my mom has been in the Fish and Chips lately,” says Uma. Harry listens carefully. He knows that Ursula likes to play with her prey before she strikes, and he knows that this has been a constant concern for Uma ever since she had to reopen the Fish and Chips, because she and Harry both have Uma’s mother’s angry tentacles marked on them, but never they would allow Nerea even a glimpse of them.
Uma seems more angry than worried, helplessness etched in her voice. She’s just trapped, so trapped again, unable to run away.
“We need the profit that Fish and Chips offers us,” Harry muses, “you may not like to know, but the rations are next to nothing”.
“For the entire Island?”
“No,” he replies, “some goblins have started dealing directly with people, now they sell what comes in the shipment from Auradon and leave the worst to choose from”.
Uma snorts, so upset. Then Harry sees a quick anger flare in her expression, like when a ship catches a sudden gusty wind in its sails, and she gets up from the bed, takes her baby in her arms, and walks out of the cabin, Harry following her. He follows her to the outer deck, where they find the crew gathered together and talking quietly. Harry raises an eyebrow at them, who part once they see the captain nearby. However, Uma’s anger is not directed towards her people.
She is determined, Nerea strangely calm in her arms.
“Uma?” Gil asks fearfully.
“Come on, I need you to grab your cutlasses now,” she orders. She looks at Harry, all fire and sea chaos. “We will distribute the supplies from now on. For the whole island”.
“The goblins…” Gil begins, and Uma stops him in his tracks.
“If the goblins have anything to say about it, they will have to deal with a queen. I am claiming the Isle of the Lost as mine”.