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Uma is seven when she first meets Harry Hook.
He's small then, (and she is too, but she doesn't act like she is), and he's scared. He's always scared of something- his father, his sisters, the dark, being alone. Uma’s learned to hide her fear by then. She's still scared, of course (there is the ever constant fear of Mal, already princess of the Isle, already trying to live up to her mother's sins) but she's been taught how to give a bloodthirsty smile and bend people to her will.
Harry, however. Harry hasn’t been taught anything.
So she teaches him, as gently as she can, though for her gentle sometimes means bloody. She teaches him how to throw a punch, how to smile like her mother, how to bite and kick and scream and fight.
At night, they stay up and dream of leaving the Isle. It’s an impossible task, they know, but it’s nice to dream.
“How will we get out?” he asks.
“We’ll swim.”
“I can’t swim,” he protests, eyes large and scared.
She grabs his hand. “I’ll teach you.”
As they grow older, the plans grow more and more detailed, more realistic.
“How will we get out?” she asks.
“We’ll sail.”
“I can’t sail.”
He looks her dead in the eyes. “I’ll teach you.”
A crew is easy to find. There are many children on the Isle. Not all of them are content to sit still. A ship is even easier. There are many abandoned ships, and Uma and Harry are not afraid of the ghosts clinging to them.
And by then they are fully grown monsters, teeth and hook and claws and ready for something, ready for anything, ready for blood.
And then Mal leaves.
Uma’s never been so livid .
“Why is it her ?” she hisses, slamming her fists down on the bar. It’s practically the dead of night, and only Harry is there to see her outburst. “Why her? Why does she get to leave? We’re the ones who’ve been dreaming of leaving and she’s only ever wanted to stay!”
Harry grits his teeth, running his hand along the hook. There’s really nothing he can say to make it better. That’s one of the worst parts of the Isle-there is never a bright side.
“She can have Auradon,” Uma declares. “Let her try to be a princess. I don’t give a shit.”
But Harry can see that it hurts.
Six months pass.
Mal comes back.
Uma’s practically seething. “She had everything !” she shrieks. “And she throws it away just like that!”
But Mal coming back is a blessing in disguise, because the Prince comes scampering after her like a lost puppy and it is all too easy to steal him. (And all too easy to lose him, but she’s trying not to think about that.)
Mal’s gotten soft at Auradon, it seems. What kind of fool drops a spellbook?
And finally, finally, they have a plan and half a chance and Harry has never seen Uma so happy.
“How will we get out?”
Uma laughs, grabs his hands and twirls him around.
“We ride with the tide!”