Work Text:
Their lives are better in Auradon. They all know it, and they don’t deny it. Why would they? Life was just better here, in the new home they didn’t pick but all sort of agree was a good idea. The food is fresh and plentiful and it turns out when you have food to eat, you feel better, and Evie’s ribs are no longer visible and Carlos’s long awaited growth spurt finally hit. They each have a bed, with pillows and more blankets than they really need, and even though there are nights when they all huddle together on the floor in a tangle of limbs and luxuries they never knew existed, those nights spent on the floor are their choice, and, hey, at least they’re not in a closet.
Mal’s leadership is recognized and respected by more than just a few street gangs. Jay’s athleticism has earned him accolades from coaches and fans across the world. Evie’s natural talents, not her natural beauty, will get her the castle she’s always wanted. Carlos’s intelligence is appreciated and admired, moving him to the top of his classes.
Their lives are better in Auradon than they were on the Isle. They don’t argue that, and they don’t want to. But sometimes, quietly, as they lie awake at night in their comfortable beds, full from their evening meals, they miss the Isle.
They miss their home.
Mal misses it when she can’t speak her mind.
After dinners and interviews, after hours spent smiling and nodding at incessant chatter, where she says little and what she does say has no value, Mal wants to scream. She wants to tell them all how little she cares of their parties and their problems, problems so insignificant they shouldn’t even be dignified by being referred to as such. When Tiana apologizes for a stain on the tablecloth during morning tea, Mal wants to tell her that, back home, Evie had used a stained tablecloth to make socks for all of them. But instead she smiles and says nothing.
When Aurora and Phillip compliment her on how well she’s adjusted to her new life, how you would never guess that she grew up in such a....different (re: uncivilized) world, she grits her teeth and does not tell them that they would not survive in her world. She does not say that she thinks they are soft and weak, and she cannot believe that her mother was defeated by this man, and that their daughter is nastier than many of the villains she encountered back home. She thanks them, the words tasting sour in her mouth, sourer than any of the meals she’d ever eaten on the Isle.
When Belle and Beast talk about their plans for the future – her future – she’d like to tell them that she never wanted to live in a castle, that was Evie. She’d like to tell them that she’ll never forgive them for condemning her and her friends to the Isle while they lived in this castle, in a life of luxury and ignorant bliss, pretending that the block of land across the water didn’t exist, and wasn’t a life sentence imposed on children who had done nothing wrong. She’d like to tell them that they were wrong, and that Ben will be a better ruler than they’ve ever been because he can see the damage that they’ve done and he’s trying to fix it. But instead she listens and when they ask her opinion, she says she doesn’t have one, because she does, but they don’t want to hear it.
And when Ben asks what she’d thought of their travels, of their visitors, of the parties, of her new life, Mal wants to tell him that she misses her leather and her hideout on the Isle, she misses scavenging to survive and the adrenaline that came with a near-miss, she misses the peace that came from watching her friends fall asleep and knowing that, for at least one night, they were safe.
But instead she tells him she had fun, and she’s tired, and he kisses her and walks her to her dorm, and she waits a short amount of time before she and Evie steal across the campus to the boys’ room because after days of smiling and waving and curtseying, she wants to curl up next to Evie the floor and watch Carlos play video games and listen to Jay recount the latest tourney match, and tell them all how annoying everyone she met was compared to them. (And she’ll roll her eyes when they mock her for showing them even the slightest bit of affection, but she’ll smile, and this smile will be real and unforced and she won’t mind giving it.)
Mal misses the Isle, because honesty back home was respected, but honesty here is called rude and blunt, and even though she was raised by villains, she doesn’t like lying.
Jay misses it when he’s given anything.
The first time it happens, when he’s sitting in class and realizes he has nothing to write with, he leans back to take a nap, but is interrupted with a light tap on his shoulder (which was foolish, he could have taken her arm off) and a pencil from the Fairy Godmother’s daughter an inch from his nose. He looks at her, then the pencil, and tells her he has nothing to trade so don’t bother, plus he really does want to take his nap, but she crinkles her brow and gives a small smile and says it’s his, just keep it, and then doesn’t even give him time to argue before setting it on his desk and returning to her work. So now, not only does Jay have no excuse not to pay attention today, he owes the girl something for this pencil. He tries to give it back to her later, but she’s gone before he gets a chance, and when he reminds her the next day, she seems to have forgotten the whole thing occurred.
Jay uses the pencil until it’s smaller than his thumbnail, but he hates it. He hates that she gave it to him, and that he took it for nothing. It would be one thing if he’d stolen it. Then, he would know that he deserved it. He could look at that pencil and say that he’d outsmarted someone, that this was his to claim, his reward for being better. But to just be given it?
That was weak. He was weak.
And it didn’t stop there. People gave him food, gave him clothes, gave him gadgets and items to help him fit in (civilize him), and when he tried to give it all back, they called him modest. No, he would say, he wasn’t modest - he was a lot of things, but he certainly was not that – it only served to convince them even more that he was.
Mal had cackled when she’d first him described as such. Ben had looked at her strangely.
It was like they thought they knew him better, and Jay didn’t like it. They didn’t know Jay. They didn’t know that he’d stolen to keep a roof over his head. If he hadn’t brought home goods, his father would have made him sleep on the streets. It had happened many times. And as Jay’s steals got better, his father’s expectations rose. He was never satisfied, so Jay always had to work. He worked harder and harder, and each night that he got to sleep in his own room was a night he knew he’d done well.
They didn’t know that he’d stolen to keep his friends fed, or to keep them out of trouble. When Evie had dropped her mother’s perfume, and her tears seemed endless, Jay had been the handsome prince, coming to her rescue with a new(ish) bottle. When Mal’s mother had destroyed her sketchbook in a fit of rage, Jay had replaced it, and the look of gratitude on her face said more than any words that she didn’t say anyway. And when Carlos was late or hadn’t been seen in too long, it was Jay who stole in Hell Hall and got him out without his mother’s notice.
Those were accomplishments. Those were things to take pride in. Those moments were better than any gift or borrowed item or trophy Jay would ever receive.
Jay misses the Isle, because even though he didn’t have much, everything he’d had, he’d earned.
Evie misses it when her smile isn’t enough.
Her beauty was her greatest gift, her mother always told her so. Never mind the many skills she’d also been taught – how to cook and clean and sew and bandage and lie and poison - her greatest strength was something she’d been given, not something she’d learned, and her one true job in life was to keep that gift perfect.
So Evie did. She ate little, and perfected the art of accessorizing, and smiled prettily, but not so much that she would get wrinkles. And her mother was proud, sometimes, and showed off her beautiful daughter to anyone who would look. (Which was everyone – her mother was the Evil Queen, and she was a princess.)
And then Mal taught her she could do more with that beauty than sit still, look pretty. She learned to use her body to flirt, to seduce, to charm. She learned that if she held her shoulders the right way and batted her eyes, no one would think twice about the coin purse she was snatching from his pocket, or if she spoke the right way and stroked his cheek, a man wouldn’t notice what her friends were doing behind his back. Her beauty was her greatest gift, and her most powerful weapon. It was the ultimate disguise, because it was on her at all times, and once she’d learned how, she could do anything she wanted with it.
And then she’d come to Auradon, and flirting with Chad hadn’t worked, because Chad was an idiot who valued grades more than the smile of a so-called princess (because they didn’t consider her a princess, even if Jay still did.)
But she’d gotten good grades, surprising everyone, and they’d told her she was more than just a pretty face, as if those words didn’t negate her entire life until that moment. Because Mal was still cunning, and Jay was still strong, and Carlos was still smart, but if her beauty and her charm didn't matter, it's on the inside that counts, then everything in her life until then is pointless.
And Evie isn’t sure she believes that, not when curling her hair around her finger had saved their lives multiple times on the Isle. She doesn’t believe it when she can soothe Mal’s doubts about herself with a soft smile and warm eyes, doesn’t believe it when she can dissipate Jay’s anger with a hand on his shoulder and whispered words in his ear, doesn’t believe it when a gentle hug and her fingers in his hair can calm Carlos’s anxiety.
Evie misses the Isle, because even though she knows she’s more than just a pretty face, she’s not sure she knows how to be.
Carlos misses it when all eyes are on him.
Carlos was not big. He was not strong. He was not intimidating or powerful or ruthless or any of the things that he’d needed to be on the Isle.
He’d been smart, but smart didn’t matter when you were facing Uma and Harry alone in an alleyway. Given time, he could build an pulley system to get himself away, but when he had approximately 11 seconds before one of them charged him with a knife, his brain didn’t matter, only his body, and his body was never good enough. He’d needed Jay and Mal and Evie for that.
He’d done well in school, but no one had cared. His professors were mildly amused that the small boy who huddled in the back corner of the room, shrinking into his desk if they said his name (which they did sometimes, just to watch him shrink) was also the most intelligent person in their halls, but it hardly mattered. If he couldn’t threaten a minion, physically or verbally, then his brain was no good.
His mother had certainly never seen any value in his mind. He was weak, he was worthless, he was good for nothing except washing her furs and the floors, and even those things were never done well enough to her liking. “Smart?” She would laugh, if someone dared to say something to her. “The boy can barely string two words together. He’s pathetic.”
But he always knew that wasn't quite true. His friends told him so. Jay would say it whenever he snuck out to see them, since his inventions were home doing his chores for him. Mal would say it anytime one of his potion bombs knocked out an entire crew so theirs could move in for the steal. Evie said it constantly; he didn't even have to do anything to earn her praise, though she was always quick to point out that he'd poked a hole in the barrier with something he'd put together while he was bored. They made sure he knew he wasn't entirely worthless or pathetic or weak. His mind was strong.
Then they'd come to Auradon, and just like on the Isle, his professors had noticed. But unlike on the Isle, these professors had cared. They'd pulled him from his math and science classes, pulled him away from his friends, and put him in advanced courses to keep him challenged, to prepare him for what would surely be a brilliant career in whatever he chose to pursue.
And other students asked for his help, not the other way around. For the first time in his life, Carlos found himself having a skillset that was valued, even coveted.
And now he couldn't escape it. The adults are constantly telling him how smart he is; they knew he hadn't heard it often growing up, and now wanted him to hear it every day. Every day, professors called his name, asked him to share his thoughts, praised his ideas or his grades. Every day, students asked to use his 3D printer, invited him to join their club, or wanted him to tutor them in this or that.
Carlos doesn't want to tell anyone that he wants them all to leave him alone. It would be rude, he knows, because they're being kind, but it's the truth. He doesn't want anyone to use his printer, he doesn't want to join any clubs, and he doesn't want his professors saying his name all the time because then everyone looks at him and he'd really rather they didn't.
Carlos misses the Isle, because back home he was invisible, but he was still smart, and he’s never liked attention anyway.
Their lives are better in Auradon. None of them would say otherwise. But nothing is ever perfect.
Mal’s leadership is recognized and respected by more than just a few street gangs, but her voice feels like it’s gone. Jay’s athleticism has earned him accolades from coaches and fans across the world, but it’s the only thing he really earns anymore. Evie’s natural talents, not her natural beauty, will get her the castle she’s always wanted, but so many of her talents aren’t called such anymore. Carlos’s intelligence is appreciated and admired, moving him to the top of his classes, and into the spotlight he never wanted.
None of them will say out loud that they miss the Isle. It is anathema here, even amongst themselves. But sometimes, when they are huddled together on the dorm floor at night, one might whisper that they miss home, and the others might quietly agree.