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Chapter Text

 Audrey never really minded the cold. She was born and raised in her mother's kingdom of Auroria, and while they certainly didn't get as cold as Arendelle, it still got pretty frosty during the winter. That and being perpetually chilly basically comes with the territory of being a royal. Castles tended to run on the unnecessarily cold side, so she'd quickly become accustomed to the feeling of goosebumps dotting her perfect amber skin.

 Similarly she was also used to feeling uncomfortable - another caveat of being a royal. Being the perfect princess meant making some personal sacrifices, and she'd been told as much from the very moment she could walk. Her cutest pair of heels pinched her feet so badly she had blisters after. Her workout routine was vigorous and miserable, to keep her figure slim and toned, and so she could flee if she ever had to. She'd been sworn to Ben since she was born, and told again and again that the future king of Auradon deserved a pure and untouched wife. So she was trained, and she was poised. She was perfect. She'd endured enough winding, tedious and downright disrespectful conversations with a polite smile to last several lifetimes.

 Being a princess could be hellish sometimes, and growing up with the pressure of someday becoming queen of an entire nation had prepared Audrey for almost anything.

 Nothing could have prepared her to spend her last days in a dungeon. 

 It had been a random Wednesday afternoon when her entire world ended. She had been napping - something a princess wasn't supposed to do for fear of crumpling her carefully arranged appearance for the rest of the day - when the school had been swarmed with Isle denizens. All of the Auradon born kids had been seized and locked in classrooms while they awaited judgment, with some of the stronger villain kids standing guard outside the doors. 

 The process of their trials was a lengthy one. Some cases were all day affairs, and some were over in a matter of seconds, as soon as a scorned villain kid had a particularly cruel urge and vengeful heart. By the time she'd been brought before their rowdy kangaroo court, she'd made peace with the fact that she wouldn't see freedom again.

 It really sucked being right all the time.

 That was six and a half months ago.

 Or at least she was pretty sure it was six and a half months. It got hard to count after a while.

 Some small, fucked up part of her still thought of it all as some elaborate divine punishment for taking that un-ladylike nap. Light knows she wasn't getting much sleep nowadays.

 The Auradon citizens deemed traitors and prisoners of the new world order - the ones who were lucky enough to not be executed on the spot - were split up and housed among the few castles with dungeons still in Auradon. It wasn't very many, maybe just under a third of them. After the Isle was created, there wasn't really a point in building them. 

 High priority prisoners - like her- were kept in Central Auradon in Beast Castle, now renamed Palace of the Striking Dragon. Some former monarchs were kept locked up in the dungeons of their own castles. She knew for a fact that her mother and father were being kept under twin sleeping curses in the cellar of Rose Manor. She'd been informed many different times. Mal had a sick sense of humor.

 Her own cell was cramped and frigid. Constructed mostly of stone, except for the wooden door, with a modest pile of straw in one corner and a toilet in the other. Audrey didn't think it had been updated at all since King Adam had thrown Queen Belle inside of it all those years ago when they first met.

 The villain kids had made a few adjustments after their hostile takeover though. 

 The temperature in the dungeon was artificial, meant to mimic the freezing Isle winters according to a smug and scowling Carlos DeVil. It wasn't just her cell that got the cold treatment, the entire lower level had been enchanted to stay at this temperature until it was once again altered manually. The first week Audrey wasn't given a blanket, left to huddle in the straw and wonder if they'd really let her freeze to death. On the seventh day, when she couldn't feel the tips of her fingers and her mind had started to cloud over, she woke up to a neatly folded cotton blanket and a small vial full of sickly yellow sludge. She later found out the sludge prevented her from dying of hypothermia, acting as sort of a magical equilibrium enforcement.

 For the first month she didn't have a bed. The meager pile of straw was the closest thing she had, and it was beyond uncomfortable. She was mostly covered up, but the silk pajamas she'd been snatched in weren't exactly the most protective material, and she spent many nights tossing and turning while the straw poked at her once blemish free skin, and she tried to ignore the cold. Somewhere around the thirty day mark, Jay had appeared in her doorway in the dead of night, carrying a modest military cot. He'd thrown it at her feet, sending her scrambling away in her half asleep state. 

"For good behavior." He winked. 

 He wouldn't leave until she thanked him. The memory of watching those playful mocha eyes light up with something sharp and clever still sent shivers down her spine.

 She was fed sporadically, a standard meal that usually consisted of water, oats and eggs, sometimes with milk or a bit of cheese. She wasn't ever given utensils. Really fucking sick sense of humor 

 It was a miserable time. The days bled together. Her body was constantly aching and bruised from her meager rations and thin cot. She'd lost weight, robbed of her hard earned petite model frame and left with something sickly and frail. She was always shivering, this was the type of cold she could never get used to despite knowing logically that the temperature never changed. She had to spend a good portion of her day pacing to keep her body and mind functioning at all.

 Her spirit had broken a long time ago. She spent more nights crying than she did sleeping, her withering limbs shaking as her body racked with sobs. It was overwhelming, the knowledge that after everything she'd been through, she was going to fucking die here. All by herself. She was so helpless to it all that she felt like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. 

 Mal and her harem from hell visited her often. Jay with his mocking eyes and calm voice, all muscle and sleek leather, leaning against her door frame and chatting about the "kingdom gossip", while all she could do was sit on her hard little cot and listen to him speak about the havoc they were enforcing like it was the daily scoop. He was always so nonchalant about it, wearing that same easygoing smile that made all her friends swoon while he talked about how the capital of her kingdom was currently being burned to the ground.

Evie and her perfect smile - a smile Audrey could replicate once, the smile of a natural born queen. Her visits were unsettling in the way in which she carried herself. Like Audrey was a wayward student she'd been tasked with correcting. She was perfectly pleasant in that cold, political way Audrey was all too familiar with. Sometimes she'd come in with a tea set and two chairs and they'd go through the motions of a tea party. Everytime Audrey had the guts to question why they were even bothering with this whole charade - Audrey never even got real tea, just hot water - Evie's smile would turn sharp at the edges.

 "Just seeing if you can still mind your manners." 

 Eventually Audrey stopped asking.

 Carlos' visits were few and far between and Audrey thanked every deity there ever was for that small mercy. His gaze was piercing, his words even sharper, all lean muscle and cruel intensity. He scared her the most. Carlos was every bit the brute she'd assumed Jay would be, but with a silver tongue and cunning mind. He liked to sit in front of her on the floor when he spoke to her, set stubbornly at eye level. 

 "I'm used to crouching in the filth, Audrey. I'm just thrilled to see you accustomed as well." In that flat, droning tone he took up with her, eyes boring into her.

 His stories were more gruesome than Jay's, he liked to haunt her with tales from the Isle that made her stomach churn and her skin crawl. The cannibals and the brothels and the murderers and rapists. Every hellish thing he had to live through that she'd never even had to read about in Auradon. He showed off his scars once. But sometimes his stories were more personal. Cities he'd burned, businesses he'd closed, people that she used to know that he'd dragged to the center of town and beaten. Laws he'd drafted, the systems they'd tear apart and what that meant for her future.

 "I come down here so you're never allowed to delude yourself. This is it for you. You're going to rot alone in this cell with no one left to miss you." She really hated his smile. Dry and humorless, and yet filled with unsettling mirth. "No one will notice when you die. No one but me. And it will fill me with so much satisfaction because you'll take your final breath knowing that we won." 

 He often left her in tears. She suspects that's the only reason he ever visits her at all. 

 Mal had been her original adversary, the one all her warning bells had sounded off against the moment she set foot on the grounds of Auradon Prep. Despite this, she'd only come once or twice during Audrey's imprisonment to visit her.

 It was further proof, Audrey thought bitterly, that I never really stood a chance and she always knew it. I was never important in her eyes. I'm just an obstacle she has permanently squared away. 

 She hated when Mal came the most. The constant reminder felt like acid crawling up her throat. She didn't want to face the woman who had bested her. Who had taken everything.

 She was already wide awake when High Queen Maleficent of the Moors came to stand in her doorway, looking every single bit the Queen she now was. Audrey immediately cast her eyes to the ground.

 "Audria Rose." 

 "Your Highness." Once upon a time, Audrey would have never addressed a villain with even half of that much respect. She had a million catty little nicknames she could supply for the purple haired fae - and demigod apparently - each more cutting than the last. The Audrey who'd do that had died a while ago. Any ounce of rebellion she may have held inside her heart, any iota of self respect had been ripped away from her, and replaced with self preservation the day she made the mistake of calling Mal by her given name instead of her royal address in front of one Carlos DeVil. He'd been wearing a ring with the new Auradon sigil. Every so often she would raise her fingers to trace the scar on her cheek. 

 "Funny, it wasn't 'Your Highness' last time I visited you." Her eyes flickered to her cheek and back, offering a sharp smile. "Isn't that interesting. You want to live, don't you Audrey?" 

 "Yes." She whispered, eyes still studying the ground. Fae always had such captivating eyes. Her mother used to tell her it was because they saw the world differently than mortals - with more complexity than they could ever manage. Whatever it was, it was alluring and entirely distracting. She used to stare at Mal in the hallways just as much as Ben did. It always drove her crazy. She couldn't handle that right now. "I do."

 "That's what I thought. Beg me for it."

 "What?" Audrey asked, mouth going dry.

 "Beg me for your life if you want to keep it." Mal said, voice sure and smug. Audrey's hands were shaking. "You want to keep it, don't you?" 

 "Please - I can't. Please don't make me. I'm begging you not to make me plead for something you've already decided." She hated crying. She'd been told all her life that it just wasn't something a princess should do. It was nearly impossible to look pretty doing it, it was childish and unflattering and pointless and it's all she can manage to do these days. The tears come before she can stop them, running in streaks through the grime on her face.

 Wasn't it enough for her to die? Wasn't it enough that they won? Why did she have to suffer like this before? Why couldn't they just end it already? 

 She could feel Mal watching her, and that only makes her want to cry harder. She could only imagine the look on her face. The joy that would reside there. The way her stupidly attractive sharp features would glow with magic and mirth.

 "You're a clever girl Audrey." She said after a minute, sounding contemplative. "And a lucky one. There's been an ongoing campaign for your freedom and safe return to society, and after all this time it's finally been approved." 

 Her heart damn near stopped.

 "I- what? Who-" 

 "Ben." She cuts in. Audrey's breath hitches at the sound of his name. "Of course. Always so soft hearted." 

 Audrey finally looked up to meet Mal's eyes. They're dancing with amusement. "I don't understand. Am I being sent home?" 

 "Eventually, yes." Mal says, leaning against the doorframe in a perfect mirror of her agrabian lover. "Not in the way you hoped, I'm sure, but you will be making a stop there. Your freedom is… let's call it conditional." 

 "Does conditional mean temporary?" 

 "Conditional means conditional." The fae said firmly, looking her over. "You look like shit." 

 Audrey laughed, an incredulous, shocked thing that more resembled a bark than anything else. I'm losing my fucking mind. "So I've been told." She searched Mal's face - her stupid beautiful face - for any hint of mocking. An inkling that this was all some cruel joke. "What's the catch?" 

 "Always the little diplomat. The Auradon natives are getting a little…bold." Mal rolled her eyes. "There's whispers of a rebellion forming - a proper one, not that pitchfork and torch bullshit that a couple cities have tried. According to my sources, a group of rebels are gathering in Charmaine to organize a large-scale attack. Of course we're going to have to squash that before it starts, I already have a few men on the inside. It won't take more than a few days to dismantle. You hero types aren't very battle smart. But when all is said and done - and their little rebellion is scorched and scattered - the root of the problem will still be there. You people never want to give up. The majority of Auradonians, even with Queen Elsa and Queen Rapunzel giving us public support, want to see us topple and fall back into the filth they tried to banish us to. I suppose it makes sense. What with them being two of the most capable royals, and basically the only ones with active and useful magic that they refuse to just repress for the sake of others. People have always looked down on them. Always seen as the 'outcast' royals for shallow shit like who they married and how they ran their kingdoms."

 Audrey was nodding along. She remembered defending Queen Rapunzel on numerous occasions to other royals for using her magic hair - which was just so stupid. It wasn't like she could turn it off. And if she had never used it, her kingdom would still be in shambles. The arguments against Queen Elsa were even more mind numbing. 

"What these fucking sheeple need is someone whose opinion they already hold in high regard. Someone who they're used to listening to and following blindly, someone with a squeaky clean reputation and a marketable face, who will tell them in the good old fashioned Auradon way that they're better off giving up while they're still alive to do it." 

 "Me." Audrey concluded.

 "You and Chadwick Charming." She nodded. "The request for his freedom and subsequent rehabilitation has also been approved today."

 Audrey paused, fighting back another wave of tears. Her stomach dropped. "Chad is alive?" 

 "Carlos is a bold faced liar." Mal winked, chuckling to herself. 

 "He-" Audrey held her tongue, but it was taking everything in her. Fucking light. She cried for days when Carlos told her Chad had died. He recounted his death in excruciating detail, down to what he was wearing and the gut punch of a detail that his last words had been wasted crying out her name. The vivid imagery had haunted her dreams for weeks now. She'd wake up hyperventilating, slick with sweat and unable to drift off again as she sobbed herself hoarse. To hear that Chad was alive, that she'd grieved for the boy she grew to love when he was more than likely only two or three cells down, it filled her with rage. For the first time in a long while, white hot anger sat in a pit at the bottom of her stomach, seeping into her blood. 

 "He's a bastard isn't he?" Mal said, a sort of understanding in her voice. "It's okay. You can agree, I'm well aware who I married. He's a little shit." 

 "He's a monster." She spat, voice shaking and choked with unshed tears.

 Princesses do not cry. 

 You're not a princess anymore.

 "Don't let him hear you say that. He doesn't need the ego boost." There was a sickening fondness there. She offered a smile with too many teeth. They were sharp. That was new.

 Mal noticed her staring. "Natural side effect of the fae blood. Do you like them? I guarantee Fairy Godmother had them too. She probably had work done. That or she keeps a glamor up like I used to. Fucking hypocritical old bat." 

 "So you hid them? I guess they weren't the most digestible feature in the world." Audrey said with no real heat.

 "Ben likes them." 

 Audrey's stomach did a flip. Gross.

 "You said Chad was a part of this?" She prodded, desperate to change the subject. 

 "You and Chad will be marketed together." Mal gave her the small mercy of moving on. "Pretty much how you and Ben used to be a package deal. Consider yourselves the new power couple. You two will be given a small group of guards to escort you from city to city where you'll make speeches, kiss babies, smile for cameras, do meet and greets. Typical shit. It's mind numbingly tacky but it's the only thing you fucking light oriented pricks seem to understand. You're just doing what you used to do before. Congratulations Audrey, you're getting your celebrity status back."

 "I'll be a puppet." Audrey said, flexing and unflexing her hands. Weighing her options. Pretending she had them.

 "A puppet who doesn't live in a cell." Mal said, finally pushing off the wall. "A puppet who will have a four poster bed again, with running hot water, a full wardrobe, and three meals a day. You'll have a VK assigned to you at all times, and a curfew, but you'll be free in the ways that matter. As free as you're gonna get." 

 "As free as you deserve" was left unsaid. Mal's dimly glowing eyes said it all. 

 "Damn." Audrey chuckled humorlessly. "Ben must've fought pretty hard. That's more than I thought we'd get." 

 "That makes two of us." Mal said dryly. She strolled forward, closing the distance between the two of them and crouching down in front of Audrey, meeting her eyes almost challengingly. Audrey suppressed a shiver. Now she was the spitting image of her more violent lover. Just as hauntingly beautiful too. "Listen Audrey, I'm not stupid and neither are you. This is a gamble for both of us, albeit not nearly as much of a gamble for me as it is for you. I'm sure you've had plenty of time to grow bitter and resentful down here. I'm sure you've killed me ten different ways in your mind, and mutilated me twice as much, and I'm sure those thoughts scare you just as much as the thought of dying down here alone does. There's not a doubt in my mind that you'll start to wonder if that pain and resentment is strong enough to make a difference. You'll start talking to some common schmuck whose heart is as bitter and bruised as yours is and you'll start to think that maybe you have a chance at overthrowing me and getting your old life back. I will tell you right now Audrey, that you don't." 

 "When those thoughts start to come about, and I know they will Audrey because you're a strong bitch and that's just how we work. When they come, I want you to remember that acting on them - that even entertaining them - is suicide. That you will end up crushed beneath my boot just like every other strong bitch and bitter heart that thought their pain and determination could outweigh mine. Before you decide to slip into a rebel meeting or turn your head when you notice weapons going missing. Before you try to betray me, I want you to know you will get nothing from it but your name run into the dirt and your head on a platter." 

 "If I hear even a whisper about you betraying me, if you give me any reason to suspect you of treason, I will kill you. It will be public, it will be bloody and it will be painful. Do you understand me?" Her eyes were glowing brightly now, the same emerald green she donned to defeat her mother all those years ago. Audrey could understand now, why her intense stare could bring a dragon to its knees. It made Audrey want to shrink away.

 "I-" She wrung her hands together, struggling to maintain eye contact. Her mind was racing with all the brutal ways she could die. "I understand, Your Highness. I do." 

 "Good girl." Mal stood to her full height, not bothering to wipe off the filth that had accumulated on her dress. Her eyes dimmed once again, giving way to another sharp toothed smile. "Before you and Chad leave Central Auradon you'll be making several TV appearances over the course of the next few weeks. Speeches, interviews, the whole shebang. Think of it as a trail run of sorts. You'll get your sea legs, decide what new persona and angle you want to market to the masses. When you have that all figured out, you'll leave on tour, starting with the cities in Central Auradon and working outward. Occasionally either I or one of the other three will meet you at your location and check up on you. These checks will be at random, so be sure to behave yourself and you'll be just fine. All speeches must be written ahead of time and run through one of us, so try and stay on top of your shit so I don't have to bust your balls."

 "Understood." The diplomat in her was already starting to awaken. Selling the values of Isle society in Auradon wouldn't be an easy task, but it was possible. Unfortunately Mal was correct - Auradon was full of sheeple. "May I please request a debriefing on the current social hierarchy and expectations?" 

 "Look at you." Mal cooed, something akin to pride coloring her tone. "Already asking the important questions." 

 "I need to know what I'm selling to sell it." She said, wiping her sweaty palms on her disheveled pajama pants. Occasionally she'd been given an alternative outfit while someone, usually Evie, washed this one. It was always returned to her within a day. She'd assumed keeping her in the outfit she was taken in was a tactic to break her spirits. It worked. "I know it's heavily influenced by Isle culture, but I only really know the brutal parts of that from…Lord DeVil." Mal snickered, and Audrey pushed passed it, deciding it was best to ignore the laughter ringing in her ears. "Even then I assume at least a couple things have changed since Isle natives have the social standing, magic and resources they were previously denied. And what exactly is expected of me? I assume I'm going to be under your thumb for the entirety of my freedom, but how strict are my expectations? Do I have a dress code? A set of rules? It's-" 

 "Slow down princess, don't get your panties in a twist just yet." Mal cut in, raising a hand. Her nails were sharp too, painted a glossy jet black. "We need to clean you up and get you sworn in before anything else." 

 "Sworn in?" Audrey asked, already starting the mental process of preparing herself to stand. It was getting harder and harder these days. "Like an initiation? I swear my loyalty to you and the throne. Did you want me to kneel in front of a crowd or something?" 

 "Or something." She laughed, offering a hand that Audrey was hesitant to take. She took it anyway. Mal hoisted her up, bringing her other hand in to grab Audrey by the forearm and stabilize her while she wobbled like a newborn deer taking its first steps. Even when Audrey found her footing, Mal didn't let go. If anything her grip got tighter. She leaned in so close that her breath tickled Audrey's neck as she whispered into her ear. "You're about to get your first taste of Isle culture." 

—---- 

Audrey wasn't allowed to see Chad until later that night, instead the first activity she did after six months in a cell was sit still for an hour and some change while Mal tattooed a dragon onto her shoulder. Jay was there through the whole affair, admiring Mal's work almost lovingly and flirting with both of them. His comments towards her had a mocking edge that they just never had towards Mal, and Audrey wished she could say she was disgusted by the blatant showboating. As it was she was left stubbornly ignoring the blush that came to her cheeks. It wasn't fair that the people who ruined her life were also perfect tens. Apparently it was tradition for Jay to be there for her initiation, being Mal's second in command, which he told her with more than a little pride in his voice.

 After the curling dragon on her shoulder was wrapped and finished, Evie came by to escort her to be cleaned up and given a change of clothes. She was all pleasant smiles and false niceties as always, but instead of condescendingly coaching her on the etiquette she'd known since birth, the sapphire haired witch was enlightening her on the social graces of Isle culture. 

 "You're lucky," She hummed, pushing a razor, toothbrush and towel into Audrey's hands. "That you're being officially claimed by Mal. That makes you functionally untouchable to any other VK that may have had free reign to hurt you otherwise. And believe me, there were plenty. Now you're really only subject to the higher ranked members of her crew."

 "Which would be?" Audrey accepted the items gratefully. She knew that shaving wasn't necessary in the current society - Isle beauty wasn't exactly measured by smooth supple skin - but it would damn sure make her feel better after all this time. She wanted to be as smooth as a baby.

 "Mal, the boys - including Ben but I doubt that will ever have to apply - myself, Jane, Doug, Lonnie and technically Harry Hook, Gil and Uma. They're not necessarily a part of Mal's gang, which is why the rest of the wharf rats can't touch you, but they are our allies now that we've finally squashed our Isle beef. Mal might get pissed if they do anything makeup can't cover up, and Gil isn't really particularly violent or vengeful, but I'd stay away from Harry as a rule of thumb." 

 With that cryptic note she was shooed off into one of Beast Castle's notoriously huge bathrooms and told to clean up. 

 "I'll inspect your person for anything before you get dressed again, but I'll have a new outfit ready for you and it'll just be me." Audrey couldn't hide her skeptical glance. "Witches honor." She winked, and her tinkling giggle told Audrey that whatever that was definitely was not a real thing, but she didn't really have any room to argue

 "I appreciate it, Your Highness." She said, falling back onto her PR training. It never hurt to add a thank you.

 "I just love hearing that from you." Evie smiled. She really was beautiful. Pretty almond eyes shining with intelligence, rosy cheeks, a dazzling smile. Audrey looked away, cursing her stupid brain. Dammit. No fucking wonder Ben fell for them. 

 Audrey couldn't be happier to close the bathroom door behind her. She didn't try to lock it. She already knew it was a fruitless endeavor. She turned the water up as hot as it would go before stepping in. She was sure she'd stepped into heaven. The occasional bucket and sponge that was pushed into her cell could never compare to the sensation of having a hot shower after 6 months. She nearly cried tears of joy.

 There was soap set out for her to use, along with shaving cream, shampoo and conditioner, all cherry scented. She paused, running her fingers over the bottles with a quizzical look. It was her signature scent- once upon a time. Bold and bright yet feminine and elegant. Something memorable yet timeless. Evie made a comment about it once or twice before this all started, when their rivalry was still tight smiles and whispered insults. Right now Audrey wanted to kiss the ground she walked on. 

 She scrubbed every inch of her body -taking care to mind the fresh tattoo - until her skin felt raw and warm to the touch, and then once more just for good measure. She shaved her legs, arms and privates, glad to be smooth and clean once again. She must have washed her hair four times. 

 When she finally left the shower she sighed, wrapping the towel she was given around her body and distantly wondering what the point was since she would have to drop it again soon anyway. 

 As promised, Evie was waiting on the other side of the door for her - thankfully alone and sitting on the bed holding a neat little bundle of clothes in her hands. "C'mon don't be shy." She said with a cheeky smile, amusement swimming in her eyes. "We're both ladies, it's nothing I haven't seen before." 

 Audrey wanted to scoff at that. Instead she closed the bathroom door, hurriedly crossing the room to stand in front of Evie. Before she could do any more thinly veiled flirting - and really what is it about Isle kids and their obsession with flirting as a form of taunting - Audrey pulled her hand away from her towel, letting it drop and spreading her arms open. She felt completely and utterly on display. She was trying really hard to ward off her blush. 

 "You know, I think I'm going to enjoy watching you gain your figure back just as much as I enjoyed watching you lose it." Evie hummed. Audrey flushed crimson. Light's sake, she was worse than Jay. Evie lifted one of her perfect soft hands to tap lightly on the skin right above Audrey's knee, signaling her to spread her legs, and she had to remember how to breathe for a second. "I quite frankly don't think you have the guts to harbor anything Isle style, but I wouldn't want either of us to get hurt over me underestimating you."

 Evie didn't take advantage of the fact that she had to look between Audrey's legs, the gratuitous smile she wore dropping in favor of a more clinical straight line as she pursed her pouty lips together. "I'm not seeing anything. Turn around really quickly, I promise not to touch." 

 She complied, and for a terrible, horrible second she thought Evie would instruct her to bend over. The command never came though, simply a hum of approval. 

 "You can turn back around. You would be standing differently if you had anything up there." Audrey's blush darkened at the thought of putting anything at all up there. Anal penetration was not something a princess enjoyed or allowed. It was a whore's preference.

 She turned to face Evie again, but the lighter woman's gaze was on the curling dragon newly adorning her shoulder. She reached out a hand to gently trace the lines her lover had made just hours earlier, appreciation shining in her eyes. "It looks beautiful on you." 

 Audrey wasn't sure if Evie was complimenting her or Mal. "Where's yours?" She asked, then hurried to add. "If you don't mind me asking." 

 "It's on my upper back." Evie tugged down the sleeve on her left arm and turned slightly to show her. "Right on my left shoulder blade. My body was important to me on the Isle, and so were the Auradonian beauty standards I'd been taught by my mother. I begged Mal to let me place it somewhere less immediately visible so I wouldn't 'deplete my worth'. Eventually she agreed to the new placement when I made it clear I was willing to bare the skin when she asked me to."

 "Isn't that-" 

 "Controlling?" Evie supplied, fixing her sleeve, and giving her a knowing look. "Yes. But it was also a claim of ownership. Protection. A lot of people wanted to get their hands on me just for being my mother's daughter. I'm sure you can relate. Men would see the mark of the dragon on me and fuck off. She did it because she loved me." 

 Audrey stewed on that while she got dressed, something that Evie watched her do as well. She insisted it was mandatory. 

  "Someone else would have to do it if not me. Otherwise we'd just be making the bold assumption that you're trustworthy, we can't have you smuggling anything." She'd explained calmly. "I promise you'd rather have me than any of the others."

 "With all due respect Your Highness, there's nothing to smuggle." Audrey huffed, hurriedly pulling her shorts up her legs. "And even if there was, I have no pockets to stick anything in and no undergarments either for that matter." 

 "Liabilities." Evie shrugged.

 More like perverted villain kids. "Right." She said, pulling the shirt over her head. It was simple cotton, too big and a little worn. The shorts were a bit too big as well, made of sweatpant material. She didn't ask where they came from. 

 "It's nice to smell cherries on you again, Audrey." Evie said, studying her one last time before standing and smoothing out her dress. She walked towards the door, Audrey trailing after her. "C'mon, let's get you something to eat before it's time for you to head in."

 Audrey was really fucking confused. The way the Isle kids treated her, it wasn't like any other rivalry she had before. Besides the obviously much higher stakes, something else was…off. It was something she couldn't quite put her finger on. It was the way Evie purposefully gave her toiletries in her signature scent. The way that Jay would look at her, not like the predator she'd assumed he would be, but like he was waiting for something. He had long since proven more observant than she gave him credit for. It was the way Mal's eyes would shine, or her voice would betray something other than the snarky indifference and cold cruelty it usually carried. It was the way she was still alive after all this time.

 "You're fond of me aren't you?" Audrey muttered, only half sure of herself. "At least a little."

 "You'd still be in a cell if we weren't." Evie answered simply. "Locked up or dead." 

 She had always wondered why Carlos never just beat her head in if he hated her so much. "Isle culture is strange." 

 Evie chuckled. "Yes it is." 

 Dinner was a modest spread in one of the smaller dining rooms with Evie and Mal. As she ate, she wondered why Jane and Lonnie weren't there to share the meal. She didn't have to wonder for long.

 "We didn't want any of the Auradon kids seeing you on your first night out." Mal said, tearing into tender peasant with her bare hands. "Too much hugging and crying and shit. Only Ben knows, and even he's not allowed to see you both until tomorrow." 

 "Don't worry, he certainly did want to." Evie giggled. "He whined for ages." 

 "That's also why Chad isn't here. He's having dinner with the boys." She shuddered to think of sharing a dinner table with Carlos DeVil, who now unsettled her even more with this recent development. 

 The spread was modest, some Isle thing about not preparing more food than they needed. Still Audrey was beyond grateful for food that wasn't bland or stale, gulping down soup by the mouthful and tearing into her meat in a way that would make her mother clutch her pearls. She couldn't find it in herself to be ashamed, not when the two women who she shared the table with ate with just about as much tact as she did. She appreciated the villainous lack of table manners.

 Mal and Evie went over more Isle rules and customs while she ate, and she listened as intently as she could. Honestly the rules were about as winding and complex as Auradon high society, just with a lot more sex and violence. Audrey really hoped Chad was getting a similar talk and had been smart enough to ask for a pen and pad before they started speaking.

 Chad who was alive. 

 "May I please see Chad? Before he goes to his room? We don't have to talk I understand, I just thought I had lost him for so long-" 

 Evie rolled her eyes. "Yes Carlos told me about that. He laughed about it for hours."

 "Your room is his room." Mal said, dropping the peasant bone, now picked dry. "You're sharing one. You're a couple. One of the perks of Isle culture, none of that purity bullshit. It would look suspicious if you weren't rooming together actually. You always stay close to your crew."

 "Oh." She muttered quietly, shoving fresh, warm bread in her mouth.

 She was finally led to said room after dinner, and when they arrived at the door, Jay and Carlos were already lounging outside in the hallway. Jay's eyes lit up upon seeing them, taking Evie and Mal's hands and kissing each of their knuckles.

 "Your lover boy's already inside for the night." He said, righting himself and nodding at the door behind him. "We didn't want a tearful reunion outside in the hall this late at night. That much vulnerability is just screaming attack me." 

 "Speaking of, I'll stay here and keep watch." Carlos said. He was already sitting on the ground right beside the door. He gave Audrey a once over. She avoided his gaze.

 "Why?" She couldn't help but ask. It wasn't like her and Chad had anywhere to go if they snuck out. They had no allies, no home, no money and no way to function in the current society. And even if they did, she certainly didn't have the energy for an escape attempt anytime soon.

 "Because you have too many people who want you dead currently living in this castle." He said flatly. "We can't trust anyone else to stand watch for y'all until Gil gets here in the morning, so we're gonna rotate between the four of us. Can't have our dogs put down before they even step in the ring, can we?" 

 Jay laughed, and Mal snorted so it must've been a joke. Audrey didn't think it was very funny. "Thank you. Goodnight." She said instead of addressing it.

 "Wake up time is 7 am sharp." Mal nodded, a clear dismissal.

 Chad was waiting for her on the other side of the door, which she barely even had time to close before a blur of blue and blond was hitting her like a very welcome ton of bricks. 

 "Audrey! Oh fuck, thank fucking Light, Audrey. Audrey, shit come 'ere." His arms were wrapped around her, fingers tracing her skin, looking for bruises that he would definitely find. 

 She laughed, harsh and un-ladylike and unsteady, laced with all the tears she'd held back since she left her cell - she left her cell - holding onto him like he was her lifeline. "I can't get any closer, you dumb blond." But they both tried, fingers and hands and limbs pulling each other closer closer closer until the pressure hurt and it was the most welcome sensation in the world. "Fuck, I thought I lost you." 

 "I told them to fucking kill me." Chad whispered into her hair. His hands were shaking where they rested on the small of her back. "When Carlos came to my cell and told me I'd been given a plea deal I told him I'd rather be dead then campaign without you as my partner. And then he told me you were alive - called me dramatic - the fucking-" 

 "I know." She rushed breathlessly, tears running freely down her face. "They have sick sick senses of humor - they all do - but you're alive." 

 "You're alive." He parrots, running gentle fingers through her freshly washed hair. "Your hair isn't brushed." 

 "Wasn't given a brush." She laughed again. It was so nice having something to laugh at. "Didn't wanna push my luck and ask." 

 "Jay gave me one. Said I looked like utter shit and I needed it. Here, sit down lemme brush your hair." He let go only enough to guide her to the bed, gently urging her to sit on the edge. He kissed her hand before he let it go, crossing to the dresser to pick up a familiar blue and gold brush. 

 That brush was his.

 Before all this had happened. Just how long had they known they were going to free us eventually? Something unsettling and heavy was starting to stir in her stomach, but she tried to banish the thoughts. Knowing the answer wouldn't do her much good.

 "Listen, I know we fought a lot, before Auradon was…well." Chad said, clambering on the bed behind her.

 "Chad please that doesn't-" 

 "No, I know we argued and we didn't see eye to eye all the time. I know I was your rebound for Ben and you were still taking it hard." He collected her hair behind her so it all cascaded down her back, adjusting so he could rest his legs on either side of her torso.

 "Please-" 

 "I just want you to know I forgive you. And I never want to fight with you again." Chad pushed on, voice heavy with emotion. "I never want to- I can't live without you Audrey. Not back in Auradon and definitely not in whatever the hell this is. I don't care how many tattoos I have to get, or murders I have to endorse or lies I have to tell. I'm not losing you again. I love you. You don't have to love me back, but I love you." 

 "I've always loved you, Chad you big idiot." Audrey wiped away the tears as they came. Chad's body was so close to hers, neither of them had full length pants, and the skin to skin contact from his legs around her waist was reason enough to cry a river. He was the only home she had left. Her skin was practically burning where he touched. "I was mourning the loss of my future, not just the loss of Ben. Don't get me wrong, I loved him. You loved him too when we were younger." 

 "I-" 

 "Light, Chad the world is ending, no one cares that you're bisexual." She waved, and the sound of his surprised laughter was music to her ears. "Maybe in another world it could have been the three of us. But I do love you Chad. I did back then, I did when I dated you, and I do now. I deeply apologize if I ever made you feel differently." 

 "It's the trauma." He said, only half joking. "Don't worry about it." 

 He brushed her hair carefully and methodically, splitting it into parts and brushing through until it wouldn't snag anymore. It was quiet, soft and intimate and it made Audrey painfully aware that her and Chad were about to share a bed. They were going to sleep together. After all these months of sleeping by herself huddled in the dark on a little cot, she was going to sleep on a real mattress, next to a man. She could practically hear her grandmother nagging her.

 "Your hair smells like cherries." He noted softly, taken aback. "I thought it was nostalgia fucking with my mind but-" 

 "Queen Evelyn." She supplied. "You really should get used to using their titles." 

 "Trust me, I have enough bruises from Lord DeVil, to know that much." He said, and she could practically hear him roll his eyes. She could relate to the sentiment. "I had a slip of the tongue earlier. I was taken with my emotions." 

 "I know." She said softly. "Still." 

 "She gave you cherry scented soap?" His hands returned to their gentle task, brushing out her knots in long, sure strokes and following the brush with a quick comb of his fingers. His nails on her scalp were better than the fresh bread.

 "Cherry everything. Except like perfume and scrubs and shit. I only got the basics obviously, but it was all cherry scented." She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to lean into him.

 "Huh." He muttered, slightly unnerved.

 "Yeah. Makes you wonder how far ahead they planned for this. I mean the brush-" 

 "Please." The brushing stopped again. "Not tonight Audrey please, my brain can't take it." 

 "No you're right, I'm sorry." She said quickly, placing a hand on each of his thighs where they wrapped around her. This was her first time touching the bare skin above his knees.

 So not the time. 

 "It's okay." He sounded a little guilty. "I didn't mean to freak out. It just creeps me out. They creep me out. How they're just normal people but…not." 

 "They are." She mused quietly, as he moved on to brushing the final section of her hair.

 "I mean, Lord Jay would come by my cell all the time and just - talk. And yeah he was talking about all this heinous shit but he was also just fucking talking. He was just so casual and easygoing and for like a second I could close my eyes and it was just Jay, my slightly douchey teammate talking to me after a Tourney game, y'know? I mean he wasn't my best friend or anything but I liked him. He was cool." His speech was getting erratic, but his hands were still steady and careful. Chad got like this sometimes. Ranting on and on, word vomiting while she listened. She never really minded.

 "He brought me extra water once. He was going on and on about his usual sick shit, and he did that thing he does - he was like 'but how are you, Chad?' And he had woken me up for this, and I was crying all day because I thought you were gone. So I said 'thirsty, Your Highness' because I was and I didn't feel like talking in circles. And he's like 'be right back' and he just leaves. Before I could fall back asleep he was back with this big ass cup of water. And I thanked him and he nodded. None of the usual smug bullshit, he just nodded and went right on talking like he'd never left. Do you know how weird it is that they have any empathy left for us? Do you want me to braid it down?" 

 "Huh? Oh. Yes, please." Chad made a noise of acknowledgement, parting her hair again, this time down the middle. She understood what he was rambling about all too well. Sometimes when Evie spoke to her, she could easily imagine the girl as a good friend of hers to gossip and shop with.

 "And have you seen the way they look at each other?" Chad rambled on, ignorant to her stewing. "I mean Car- Lord DeVil - is the scariest mother fucker I know, but when he looks at Queen Evelyn his whole face just…resets. He smiles - like a person not some sort of demon who's hell bent on making me as miserable as possible. They're so in love with each other - all of them so enamored with each other - it's so human. There's a version of reality out there where they were never villains at all. Where they were just four people who loved each other more than life itself."

 "Where we didn't put them on the Isle." Audrey whispered. A finished braid fell gently back in place over one of her shoulders. Chad started on the other.

 "We didn't put them there." Chad retorted, but it was weak. He knew just as much as she did. They would have kept them there if it were up to them. They may have even -in another world - voted to put them on the Isle in the first place. And they didn't deserve that. 

 "We were cowards." She said bitterly. 

 "Yeah. We were." Chad said, resignation coloring his words. The second braid fell over her shoulder, mirroring the first. They sat in silence. "May I hold you?" 

 She didn't say anything. Couldn't. Instead she turned so she could face him, clambering into his lap and straddling him. Their bare thighs were touching. All her blood was rushing to her ears. His arms wrapped around her. She touched their foreheads together.

 They breathed.

 And for a moment in time that was enough. Being in the arms of the boy she loved, holding him close. Breathing in his scent and feeling him breathe in hers after she spent weeks thinking he'd never breathe again. Nothing in this new world would ever feel as right and good and light as this. Evil could have everything else. She would let it, she'd play her role in helping. She could live with that as long as she would never lose this. 

 The instinct grabbed hold of her like the need to breathe. In an instant she was breaking contact for only the short amount of time it took to lean down and kiss him sweetly. It was more than she'd ever thought she'd experience again. Kissing Chad was life, it was living instead of simply surviving. It was warm bread after so many months of crusts and crumbs. 

 He returned the kiss eagerly, his arms tightening around her as if he was afraid she'd fall between his fingers if he didn't grip hard enough. She had a fistful of his hair for the very same reason. Such a kiss could only remain innocent for so long, and the sweet reunion soon became something more desperate and intense. French kissing was as far as she'd allowed Ben to get, and even that was a violation of everything she'd been taught. She'd never gotten this far with Chad, who was always understanding and undisturbed with her need to take things at a snail's pace, but here she was in his lap with her tongue in his mouth. And fuck Auradon etiquette for making her think this was bad, it was fucking amazing. Every softly grazing hand that left fire in its wake, every embarrassing little noise she made. This was heaven on earth and every single old dignitary who would call her promiscuous for feeling this way could kiss her ass.

 It was Chad who came up for air, breaking the kiss and panting. "This is indecent." 

 She laughed, toeing the line of deranged. "I don't think that matters much anymore." 

 "This- this with you - isn't something I'm willing to give to them unless I have to." He said, eyes lidded but voice firm. "If it still matters to you, it still matters to me. Don't feel pressured by anything or anyone Audrey. I only want what you want." 

 "Chad," She breathed, heart beating out of her chest. Her entire upper body felt flushed and hot to the touch. "Thank you. Please kiss me." 

 He never did like denying her things.

 Eventually the hurried frenzy of sensations and limbs became too much for her, and they slotted in next to each other, as close as their bodies would allow. 

 "Thank you for sharing that with me." She said into his chest, curling up a little closer still. A part of her feared this was all a vivid dream or cruel trick, and that she'd wake up huddled in the cold again, all alone. "I know we didn't go all the way-" 

 "We didn't need to." He hummed, kissing the top of her head where he'd parted her hair. "We don't ever have to. All I could possibly give a shit about is whether or not you stay alive and by my side. That will always be enough." 

 "You're a sap." She laughed quietly, a smile tugging at her lips.

 "Some things never change." 

 She slept peacefully for the first time in months.

—------

Audrey awoke with bleary eyes, sleep-addled mind still trying to find her bearings. When she realized said bearings included no warm body behind her, she bolted upright, fear igniting in her chest like a roaring flame. 

 Fuck. No no no no, I can't lose him again, he can't be gone again-

 "Audrey!" Chad rushed over, throwing a bundle of clothes onto the bed and grabbing her hands. "Audrey, hey hey hey. Hey it's okay, gorgeous. It's alright I'm right here. High Queen came by with a change of clothes for our interview today, I left to answer the door. I didn't want to wake you. I'm sorry, c'mon breathe with me. Let's breathe." 

 He took an exaggerated breath, and waited for her to copy him, which she eventually managed with a tremoring inhale. "Good job, pretty girl now let's exhale." He let out his breath and she mirrored him. "Again, c'mon." 

 It took a minute for her to calm herself and convince her heart to stop beating like a jackhammer. Chad was patient through it all, a pinched smile on his face.

 "I didn't mean to frighten you." 

 "It's okay." She insisted. "Just wake me up next time. I'd rather know where you are." 

 "I'm sorry." He said again. He nodded at the clothes that he'd unceremoniously thrown onto the bed. "High Queen Mal said we'd get to pick our outfits for all further public appearances unless specified otherwise, but that Queen Evelyn specifically wanted a hand in the first time. " 

 "That sounds like her." She said, examining the clothing. There was a lot of leather and studs, but her outfit still had no shortage of pink and Chad's vest was the very same baby blue as his kingdom's signature shade.

 "They're actually not bad." Chad was holding his own outfit, admiring the detailing on each item. She was one of the only people who knew he could sew. "She always was really good at making clothes. I kinda want to ask her why she chose these specific items. It all seems so purposeful." He looked up at her again. "We can take turns changing if you're not comfortable with-"

 "No worries, I don't mind." She cut in. She honestly couldn't quite tell why she didn't care, but she didn't. There wasn't much more dignity she could lose and Chad was safe to her.

 "Alright." He smiled softly, then cleared his throat. "She's uh, waiting outside the door. She told me to come get her when you were up so she could…watch us change." 

 Audrey rolled her eyes. Of course she did. She nodded at the door, and Chad took the permission for what it was, knocking on it once before he cracked it open. "We're ready for you." 

 It didn't get any less awkward having someone watch her change in cold clinical focus, but Audrey did her best to ignore it and focus on getting dressed as quickly as possible. Thankfully today's ensemble had undergarments and pockets, the latter of which Mal spelled closed immediately after they were done changing.

 "I don't want you tempted to do dumb shit on your first day." She said. "You're appearing on TV today to soft launch your new image. Don't get too nervous, no fidgeting or glancing off. Stay sure, confident and firm and you'll be fine. Your vanity's been stocked with makeup for the both of you, so I'll leave you here to make yourselves camera ready. Meet me downstairs in an hour, we have a small breakfast spread and Evie can brief you some more." 

 Mal left just as soon as she'd arrived, leaving her and Chad alone and faced with a vanity full of makeup. "Well," Audrey said dryly. "Looks like you'll get to ask her yourself." 

 "You can have the chair." Chad nodded at the little bench seated in front of the vanity. "I know how you get with makeup and I only really need concealer, blush and some eyeliner. I wonder if…" He opened one of the drawers to the vanity, before immediately closing it. He tried the one underneath it, this time apparently finding what he needed. He rummaged around for a second before producing a small tube of concealer. He turned to face her again, holding the tube up to the skin on his cheek. It was a perfect match. "That's not creepy." 

 He rolled his eyes, taking a makeup brush with him and disappearing into the bathroom.

 Audrey sighed, approaching the vanity and opening the first drawer. It was filled with concealer and foundation that matched her skin tone. It was even the same brands she used to favor. Literally what the fuck. "Not creepy at all." She muttered, grabbing a tube of primer and getting to work. She only had an hour after all.

 It was surreal to be in front of a mirror doing makeup once again after the world as she knew it had fallen apart. She worked quickly, with sure hands and even strokes. Even amidst all the pain and starvation, this still felt like muscle memory to her. It wasn't long until all signs of captivity were wiped blank from her face and neck. Chad came back every so often, to grab blush and a different brush, or eyeliner, and in a spur of the moment decision, eye shadow.

 "Since we're on a roll with scandalizing our old PR teams." He joked, waving the cool toned palette around. 

 In no time she'd applied a sharp cateye and a pink smokey eye to match her new attire, finishing the look with a slightly darker lip than she was used to and a self satisfied smile. It was nice to look good again. 

 "You're beautiful." Chad said after she'd sprayed her face with setting spray, kissing her on the forehead.

 "I could say the same for you." She hummed appreciatively, taking in his new look. "Whoever told you that you weren't allowed to wear bold makeup needs jail time." He had a dark circle of eyeliner lining his lid and lower waterline, with bold smudging strokes of blue eyeshadow framing his green eyes, making them pop. The concealer had done away with some of the gauntness in his cheeks, leaving his cheekbones looking sharp and defined. "Light, you're gorgeous. You just need mascara, c'mere." 

 "Yes ma'am." He sat still for her without a fuss, and the mascara was just what he needed for that pretty boy edge most Isle men seemed to harbor. 

 "Damn." He said, admiring the finished product in the mirror. "I'm hot." 

 "You are." She nodded in approval. She wanted to kiss him again. "Now c'mon. I don't want to find out what happens if we're late." 

 He winced at the idea, standing and sliding on the vest he'd been given. "Right. Let's go spread some propaganda.

 Breakfast was another modest, but filling and delicious spread. Thick slabs of bacon, fresh hot bread with butter and jam, hunks of cheese and plenty of fresh strawberries and grapes. Eggs were noticeably absent. Good. Audrey had eaten enough eggs to last her a lifetime. Chad also ate with the reckless abandon of someone who'd been deprived for months, which eliminated the small bit of insecurity Audrey harbored about eating like a slob.

 "I'll keep this brief." Evie said, tearing a piece of bread off and pushing it into her mouth. They had the honor of dining with all four of the Auradon rulers this morning. "Remember who your audience is, you don't have to convince the Isle kids that you're like them -that would take a lot more time, effort and training - you have to convince the Auradonians, which is much easier. Subtlety is your friend today, people don't want to be beaten over the head with change. Remember the aspects of your original image that was so appealing, and play off of that. A complete rebrand can be arranged eventually if that's what you desire, but for now we're betting off of nostalgia and familiarity." 

 "You're both going to be asked about your tattoos." Carlos said evenly. "Start thinking about what you'll say so you're not floundering around."

 "We'll unwrap them right before you go on the air, and then rewrap them afterwards." Mal said. "Any VK worth their weight in salt will know that those tats are fresh, but most Auradonians shouldn't be able to tell the difference. It would probably be best to say you got them a while ago."

 "Just don't go out there trying to act like VK lite and you should be fine." Jay waved a hand, mouth full of food. "Don't think too hard, you know how to speak to a camera. You'll get in front of all those lights and it'll kick in like second nature. Just chill." 

 She met Chad's eyes across the table. Just chill. For Light's sake.

—------- 

 "The sun's up and so are we. I'm Ginny Gothel, here with the latest Auradon news, and today we have some very special guests. Let's give a warm Isle welcome to the former princess bubblegum guts and her loyal lavender lapdog." Ginny had a voice like honey but a smile like thorns. Audrey liked her immediately.

 "I prefer a powder blue." Chad said dryly into the microphone. If he was at all bothered by the petty jabs, he didn't show it, his mouth pressed into a straight line, eyes confident and sure.

 Audrey smiled at the camera. Jay was right, as soon as they got on set, she and Chad had fallen into their old routine of being the perfect PR wet dream. Their audience had just shifted is all.

 "It's interesting you'd bring up lapdogs when Anthony Tremaine has been sniffing around your skirt so much lately. Tell me, does he bite?" Actually listening to Jay's incessant gossip was finally going to pay off. She'd always been known for her cool head and unbreakable confidence, now she just had to add in the edge that she'd had to hide away all this time.

 "No," Ginny said tightly. "But I've been known to bite from time to time." 

 "You'll have to let me know if it falls through with Tremaine then." Chad winked, lips quirked up into a smug smile. Charm was literally in his name, his team loved to work the playboy angle. It was always toned down to fit the old Auradonian values of modesty, but Chad always had been a flirt.

 "Careful now." Gothel's daughter crooned, mirroring her mother. "You might make the pink panther jealous." 

 "Oh you don't have to worry about that." Audrey laughed, holding their intertwined hands up for the camera. "I can't really see you being competition. Besides I don't care who Chad flirts with, he's not proposing or anything." 

 Ginny clenched her jaw and Audrey beamed, letting Chad rest an arm across her shoulder. "I've heard whispers that the good girl's gone bad." Ginny pushed on, expression souring. "So tell me Audrey, just how bad are you?" 

 Audrey rolled her eyes. "Let's be honest, good and bad are pretty subjective concepts, right? I mean, the recent shift in power is a pretty extreme example, but it's true. High Queen Maleficent has put several new laws and policies in place, and Auradon natives are so quick to call them all bad just because they came from her. If anyone actually bothered to read the legislation they were protesting, they'd know she's actually implementing a lot of protective clauses to keep kids and unprotected individuals safe from harm. The old administration was quick to push false individualism, leaving the ones who couldn't keep up to flounder around in the dust. The rise in 'gangs' is really just a rise in community values, the likes of which I've never seen before. They promote looking after your own, treating your loved ones like family. Not to mention magic wielders and non-human species haven't been this protected and liberated in years. Isn't that good?" 

 "Oh don't get me started on the magic thing." Chad said, waving his free hand. "There's so much hypocrisy out right now about the ethics of magic, and all of it is drivel. I mean we used to have magical creatures repressing their biological responses just for the comfort of a few squeamish royals. Jane had surgery done to flatten her teeth at 7 years old. We're talking about putting little girls and boys on pills to suppress magical hormones. We weren't even letting these people go through puberty correctly. And the only reason people don't think it's bad is because we haven't been taught that it is." 

 "We're much more into deciding what good and bad means to us." Audrey shrugged. "Isn't that what the High Queen preaches? Free thinking?" 

 "I see you're quite the fan of High Queen Maleficent all of a sudden." Ginny said, looking them over skeptically. "Why the change of heart?" 

 "Once I stopped seeing Her Highness as my competition, my life got a lot better." Audrey said simply. "She has a vision for a brighter future. I'd be a fool to let petty high school drama stop me from realizing that." 

 "It seems she's a big inspiration for you. I see you've both adopted the mark of the dragon." Ginny sneered, eyeing their fresh tattoos.

 "High Queen Maleficent took us in." Chad said. "It's the least we can do to show her a little loyalty. And personally I'm glad tattoos are getting destigmatized, they're cool as hell. Who wouldn't want a sick dragon tat?" 

 "My loyalty lies with the crown." Audrey said, ignoring Ginny to smile directly at the camera. "High Queen Mal and her court have given me a place to belong and the room to grow under these trying circumstances. Major changes in government are always going to be hard, but they're necessary here. We're moving towards a more inclusive Auradon. This court has given me any and everything I needed. A tattoo is nothing in comparison to that." 

—------

 "Community values?" Mal smirked, leaning back in her chair as she watched the broadcast. "Damn, she's good." 

 "They both are." Evie hummed, touching up her mascara in a small hand mirror. "Chad's nonchalance is setting up the foundation for a bad boy with a soft side angle. And he's doing away with that dumb golden retriever act for more of a reserved intelligence." 

 "Thank Evil." Jay said. "It's great to hear him using multi-syllable words for once. I'm honestly impressed they managed this just from some petty gossip and a few info dumps." 

 "We chose them for a reason." Carlos stared intently at the screen. "Things are falling into place." 

 They all looked up at the sound of the doorknob turning, a sheepish Ben poking his head in, hair still a disheveled bed-headed mess. "Did I miss it?" 

 Mal shook her head. "They're still going." 

 "Good morning, darling." Evie smiled, patting the space beside her. "Come have a seat. We're going to pick them up after the interview." 

 "So they're doing good?" Ben urged, fidgeting with his rings. He was nervous, anxious to see his idea come to fruition.

 "They're in their element." Jay said, grabbing Ben's hand and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. A light blush rose on his cheeks, and Jay used his momentary ease to urge the man in Evie's direction. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about them."

 "You were right," Carlos said, shooting him a small smile. "They were just the thing we needed to calm the riots. Good eye, Ben. We probably wouldn't have considered it without you." 

 Ben beamed, proud of himself. He slid in next to Evie, resting his head on her shoulder while she scratched gently at his scalp, his eyes glued to the screen. He didn't notice when Carlos threw a smug look to Mal, who flashed a sharp grin in return. Jay smiled, kicking his feet up, and suppressing the urge to laugh. Evie covered her proud giggle by pressing a kiss into the top of Ben's head, who was oblivious to it all.

 One didn't take over an entire nation without thinking ahead.

Chapter Text

 Doug didn't really like dressing up. He never did, not when he was small and his wild hair would have to be gelled and slicked back for balls, not when he was an awkward tween trying to figure out what to do with his arms while he was measured and fitted for his intricate festival attire and especially not now in his adult years. He knew it wasn't very royal of him, and he managed to suck it up most of the time so he could do what was expected of him, but he really couldn't stand the primping and posing. At the very least he was always grateful that he wasn't in charge of selecting his wardrobe for lavish events, it was more than appreciated that someone else was tasked with the job of making sure he always looked the part. He couldn't manage that even if he wanted to, the dwarf-kin wasn't exactly the most fashionable person, and he much preferred a cool band shirt and a breathable pair of shorts to anything 'princely'.

 So he was very thankful for Ben, former King of Auradon and his one of many boyfriends, who was currently holding up two vests in front of Doug, mocha eyes narrowed in concentration while he deliberated. "I think Jane wanted to rep Mal today. She mastered a new spell last night during their session, she's been working on it for a while so she's really excited. It's kinda adorable in like a terrifying my-girlfriend-could-kill-me way." Ben said, finally raising his adoration filled gaze up to Doug and subsequently making his face warm. "So do you want to wear Jay's colors or Evie's?" 

 Doug ignored his fluttering heart to wearily eye the two equally flashy vests. They were both leather - it seemed even despite having quite literally the whole world at their disposal some things about Isle Culture never change - one in Jay's rusty reds and browns and the other in Evie's royal blue and candy apple red. Both functionally collars in their own right. Marking them as possessions.

 "I'll take Jay's." He said, holding his hand out for the article of clothing. "It'll go with the pants." They were a form fitting pair of khaki slacks, fine tailored by Evie herself to hug his frame like a second skin. The material and color was distinctly Auradonian - he'd never seen a VK in khaki if they could help it - but the way they clung to his skin was purposeful in a much more meaningful way than a simple fashion statement. Clothes that tight screamed Isle. The vests, proudly showcasing each significant member of the Royal Court - the ones with real power- screamed Isle. Everything about him, from the moment he rolled out of bed in the morning to the second his head touched the pillow at night, from the way he dressed, to the way he spoke had been drained of any trace of Auradon and replaced with the vicious possessiveness of Isle culture. It was a marker of status. It was a claim of ownership.

 He was a show pony and a lapdog.

 Ben nodded with a hum, making no effort to hide the way he stared at Doug as he slid the vest on over his shirt. He was nothing if not an adoring partner, something that Doug appreciated even on his worst days. 

 "You always did look best in his colors. I'm jealous." Ben said, shrugging on the other brightly colored vest. Doug looked the other way, trying not to blush at the compliment or just how well Ben filled out his clothes. Mal was insistent that they train almost every day of the week to be able to defend themselves in true Isle fashion. Being accessories to the crown meant that they had giant targets on their back for any VK bold enough or dumb enough to think they could overthrow the Court, and Mal always said they couldn't always be around to protect them. Despite the rigorous training, none of them had managed to capture the true vicious nature of Isle fighting, but it had made them gain a decent bit of muscle mass at the very least. Doug's biceps had never been this toned.

 "You look the best in Evie's, so it works out." Ben wasn't bashful in the face of a compliment, but the proud little grin on his face was a nice consolation prize. Once upon a time Doug would have been too shy to even think about voicing such a thought. The old him, the shy, shrinking band geek who kept a low profile and even lower self esteem, who only had the courage to pursue one of the dozens of crushes that he had in his formative years - that Doug wouldn't even dream of telling the crown prince of the United States of Auradon that he looked good, no matter how badly Doug wanted to and no matter how good said prince looked. But he wasn't that person anymore. That Doug had died a while ago, out of necessity, and this current Doug had Ben as a boyfriend - finally after all these years of quiet pining and restless nights with red rimmed eyes wondering why his heart had to be so so selfish why couldn't he just pick one person - and would take full advantage of the fact if he wanted to. He was getting used to taking advantage of situations when he could. 

 "You're a flirt." Ben said, a sly little smile on his face.

 Doug scoffed. "Hypocrite." Ben was almost as bad as Evie and Jay when it came to his flirty nature, though for all his charms Doug didn't think he would ever surpass those two when it came down to it. Sure Ben was good at playing the game, but they had practically invented it. "I'll assume that means Lonnie is sporting Carlos' colors?" 

 Ben nodded. "His star student." He paused in front of their shared vanity, admiring his finished outfit with a proud gleam in his eye. He nodded, satisfied with the ensemble before reaching into his makeup bag and grabbing an eyeliner pen. They were all required to wear makeup, it was the standard on the Isle, another marker of status. You were powerful if you could afford to make yourself more noticeable - on purpose - without having to worry if it was safe. It's why no one could spot Harry without his iconic guyliner. Ben bent over the vanity to apply his own simple liner, one eye open and squinting in focus. "We could never compare." 

 "We never stood a chance." He laughed wearily. He felt unbelievably tired despite just waking up, but he found that was a side effect of preparing for the day lately. He watched Ben effortlessly apply a small winged liner on both eyes before accepting the offered pen and switching places with him. "She has the genetic advantage and a 12 year head start." 

 Lonnie was her mother's daughter through and through, from her sharp features and sharper tongue, right down to her warrior's spirit. Combined with the fact that she'd been in hand to hand combat and martial arts classes from the age of 7 she had a very noticeable advantage over the three of them, and a natural fierceness that only Jane could even begin to match, something Carlos absolutely adored and encouraged. Despite this she rarely wore his colors because of their likeness to the colors of Imperial City, so she was left to show her loyalty in other ways. She'd had to fabricate situations to make a show of deferring to him in public more than once because of this, something that made Doug's skin crawl every time.

 "Excuses." Ben snapped, a poor mockup of Mal. It was laughably bad and Ben had to move his mascara wand away from his face so he wouldn't stab his own eye out giggling. 

 Doug chuckled half heartedly -it was much more terrifying when Mal was barking it at them so he couldn't find it in him to be too amused - grabbing a rubber band so he could tie back his hair.

 "Wait wait no," Ben pried the rubber band from his hands with an unnecessary gentleness, setting it aside, and finally recovering from his giggle fit. "We've got some time, let me finish my mascara and I'll braid your hair down in the front." 

 "Okay." He relented, feeling his face warm again. Hair was something sacred in dwarven culture, a fact that would be common knowledge if the whole of Auradon bothered to even pretend to give a shit about non-human species, and one that Ben had known since they were kids. It was extremely uncommon to cut it- most dwarves saw it as a marker of grief or a bad omen - and a majority of dwarven children were raised to know the importance of well kept and groomed hair, Doug included. Doug had the fast growing, silken, thick and healthy hair of a dwarf. His hair was one of the only outward physical ties he had to his dwarven side, and so he was extremely particular about how his hair was styled and handled. He really didn't feel like having someone mess around with it, not with him feeling so on edge lately, but he just couldn't tell Ben no. 

 Honestly, that was his problem. He really couldn't deny Ben much of anything, which seemed to be a common side effect of being around the former prince. There was something about Ben, beautiful, sunny, trusting, kind Ben, something intrinsic that just made you happy that he was happy.

  Doug and Ben shared a vanity, a smaller version of the one that sat on the opposite wall for the girls, with a small bench in front of it to match. He took a seat on the soft cushion while he waited for Ben to finish elongating his lashes and dusting his cheeks lightly with blush. "Will you talk me through the day please?"

 Ben was undeniably the most influential of the little gaggle of Auradon kids Mal had taken into her court. Evie insisted, late at night with soft cooing and gentle petting, that they didn't harbor any favorites between them - that they were all equally important and adored, but Doug wasn't stupid, he was well aware they each had their position and purpose. 

 Jane was borne of magic - and yet despite quite literally being made of it she had constantly and consistently been denied not just the right to exercise her magic, but to even properly access her magical core. She'd confided in him, a year before this all happened that she felt lost, like she'd been ripped away from her purpose. She was a fairy god person who couldn't practice magic. It was the most ridiculous thing in the world, and it hurt her, physically pained her somewhere deep down where she couldn't quite place. She'd pledged her loyalty to Mal before he did. Said she didn't even have to think about it. By fae laws, Mal was the Queen by birthright and by blood. Mal had since taken Jane under her wing to train her in her magic use. For the first time in her life she was off the hormone blockers, free of the glamours that hid her wings and tampered her natural faerie charm. Unfortunately she could never undo the surgery she'd undergone to flatten her teeth, but Jane was finally learning to reach her full potential. Beyond that, she was a shining beacon for every magical creature who had to shrink themselves down or hide their true self away in order to cater to the cowardice of the average Auradonian, now able to live freely under Mal's rule.

 Lonnie was a fierce warrior. She'd fought from the second the VKs had first taken over- clawing and scratching her way into being the leader of a small but sturdy rebellion. She'd been on the fast track to a very public and very violent death, and she'd been told as much when she was inevitably captured and thrown into the dungeons of Imperial City. Mal and Jay were flying to Imperial City the next morning to retrieve her, and Doug had been notified ten minutes before their departure that they wanted him to come along for reasons he still wasn't completely sure of. Light knows he'd only give himself a migraine trying to navigate their intentions. He was there to witness them explain to her that her options were to join the royal court or face public execution. He'd seen fear on her face for the first time. Her shoulders shook as she looked at him, they made eye contact in the deafening silence that followed their ultimatum before she seemed to finally find it within herself to kneel. To this day Doug was sure him being there was the thing that saved her life - that if he wasn't there to ground her, she would have held tight to her stubbornness and he'd have to watch her head roll. She was allowed a much more lively and powerful public persona than he or Ben could ever hope to have. She was a case of a natural born leader and all around powerhouse finally climbing to the top where she'd always belonged but could never achieve in a society that valued politeness and reckless selflessness above all else. 

 Doug was simpler. A small delusional little corner of his mind was absolutely certain he'd only been offered a spot on the Royal Court because Evie was too fond of him to lock him away and let him rot. That she'd told the other three- Mal with her sharp eyes and teeth, Jay with his smooth voice and hands, Carlos with his quick reflexes and mind- that she wanted to keep him and that they had agreed because they also saw something in him that was worth a damn. The larger part of his mind - the logical one - knew that he was supposed to be the poster boy for every non-human species that had been mistreated and ignored under Auradon's previous rule. All the sidekicks and plus ones and cute talking animal companions that were cast aside as soon as happily ever after was all said and done. Sure he was only half dwarf, but that had been more than enough to ostracize him at every campus, dance, ball, meeting and social event he'd ever had the displeasure of attending since he was old enough to enter the hellscape of politics. His villainous lovers never seemed to mind. Mal barely counted as human herself, and Jay had a good bit of djinn blood running through his veins. Behind closed doors they praised his dwarven strength and craftsmanship. In public, he wasn't allowed to be very loud or strong, but they made a big show of making sure he was seen and heard. It was more than any non-human species had ever gotten under King Adam.

 And then there was Ben. The trophy. The cautionary tale, the willing and naive little pawn that showed everyone just how clever Mal's crew could be. Ben was the first one they'd taken in, the one who'd been behind the scenes passing the legislation and whispering the sweet little lies that got them on the throne so seamlessly. Across all the united kingdoms, every Auradonian with dwindling hope and every VK with vicious animosity towards all things good and pure saw Ben as the lovesick puppet that Mal and the others had viciously manipulated only to keep him under lock and key for their own sick satisfaction. A hopeless victim of circumstance that had inevitably crumbled under the might of superior opponents. 

 And that's exactly what Ben wanted them to believe.

 No one knew just how aware Ben had been of their plans. They never stopped to consider that maybe the princeling knew exactly what he was doing when he'd signed away his power to the fae with the sharp toothed grin. Doug knew better.

 Ben's persona was marketed around the remaining population of traditionally 'light'-minded citizens who still held onto the hope that through faith, trust and kindness, they could overcome everything. He was living proof that they couldn't. That the rigid virtues that they desperately clung onto had been the thing that ultimately led to Auradon's -and specifically Ben's - demise.

  Ben had always been a good actor. A great actor actually- a royal figure of his magnitude was always expected to perform. His public persona was meek and subservient and simpering. The perfect docile little house pet that kept rebellions in check and VK's in quiet awe of Mal's great conquest. Behind the scenes, Ben was way more involved. Ben was called every morning to receive all of their itineraries in a debriefing, Ben was in charge of how they presented themselves and behaved in front of a camera. Ben drafted treaties of surrender and legislation for marginalized groups, if Doug or the others had an idea they wanted to propose it had to be presented by Ben, he was the only one among them who even seemed remotely capable of keeping up with the giant chess game of Isle politics at all.

 "We have a couple meetings to sit through." Ben said, handing Doug a makeup brush and coming behind him to start running fingers through his hair. Doug wordlessly began to blush his cheeks while his boyfriend's steady digits parted his hair into neat sections. "Same old same old with that, we just need to be quiet and let the royals do the talking. I'll give you a fair warning; one of the meetings is in regard to a recent violent uprising in Charmaine. Anthony Tremaine and his court are coming forward to request counsel in regards to how to handle the outbursts, but I heard he's really gunning for heads on platters. Mal was pretty insistent that I remind everyone that we're to be seen and not heard when it comes to matters like this, but I think that warning was for Lonnie more than anyone else."

 A neat braid fell limp by his ear, Ben already effortlessly moving onto the next as he spoke. He sounded so calm. Doug tried not to find it eerie. "After that we have a TV appearance. Ginny Gothel and her crew are coming by to interview the entire Court since the winter solstice is coming soon and that was a big thing for the Isle. There's been a recent push from former Isle inhabitants that all Auradon born citizens should be denied new equipment and assistance during this upcoming winter as a form of reparations. Mal and the others are giving a statement, but she told us to deflect and defer back to them at all costs." 

 "Is she actually going to pass something like that?" Doug set his brush down, mouth pressed into a thin line. He knew most of the VKs and former Isle inhabitants still harbored a deep resentment towards Auradonians as a whole for their complacency and neglect. As he spent more time with Mal and the others and learned more about their past on the Isle, he couldn't help but feel like the dirty looks and thinly veiled threats he received whenever they went out were at least a little warranted. He would probably hate him too. But if citizens were denied equipment and supplies for the winter, especially in the kingdoms with harsher weather like Arendelle, a lot of people would die.

 "I'm not sure." Ben said, expression unreadable. Another braid dropping beside his ear. Doug inhaled deeply.

 "Ben, I know they tell you things they don't tell us-" 

 "You know that kind of thing is out of my hands, Doug. I don't write or approve laws, I'm lucky if I even draft them. I keep ducks in rows, that's all I do." Ben sighed, sensing the tension in his shoulders. "Hey." 

 They met eyes in the mirror, Ben's meticulously painted and framed oaken eyes shining with vulnerability. "They haven't told me anything." He said firmly. "They don't tell me anything I don't tell you." 

 A moment of hesitation - barely a couple of seconds, but plenty of time for hurt to begin to flash in those trusting eyes - and then, "I believe you." And Doug sometimes thought himself a fool for doing so, but he really did. If he couldn't trust Ben then he really was fucked. "It's okay." 

 "I really hope it doesn't escalate that far, but that's not our place to speak on. Not publicly. " Another braid, this time beaded with dark wood and thin gold wire . "Our job is to stand and look pretty. Mal's giving us the rest of the afternoon off after that because in the evening there's going to be a festival to welcome in the winter. The only note she gave for that one was 'behave'." 

 "Lovely." It was Doug's turn to sigh. Light, I hate public events. He couldn't wait to get pleasantly drunk and unaware. He found that was his favorite part about being kept on a short leash - with one of his four villainous lovers always breathing down his neck he could knock back liquor in true dwarven fashion without having to worry about who would pick up the pieces. It was always taken care of. He was always taken care of.

 He picked up his brush again, carefully painting blush onto his cheeks. He'd never been one for makeup before all this happened, he never had anyone to teach him. It came as a pleasant surprise to him that he liked feeling pretty. The concealer, eyeliner, blush and mascara that had become his standard made him look more lively in the face, and occasionally he'd even don eyeshadow or intricate eyeliner designs. And yeah he didn't really have much of a choice about integrating it into his daily routine, but he liked it. It was calming to apply and nice to look at. 

 Speaking of nice things to look at.

 Doug let his eyes drift, peering up at the mirror so he could watch Ben braid his hair in the reflection. Ben was his first crush. Which- okay he wasn't special in that regard. Ben had always been handsome, and he was also clever, kind, bookish and heir to inherit an entire nation. He was almost everybody's first crush.

 Not everybody knew him like Doug did though. Got to watch his eyes light up in wonder when Doug shyly muttered a fact about dwarven culture instead of turning up his nose like everyone else did. Got to clutch his hand tight while they walked because the little prince was afraid of the dark but dwarves had eyes like cats that were made for navigating pitch black caves. Not everyone got to date Ben like he did, and have his long, sure fingers elegantly braiding their hair.

 Light, Ben really did look good in Evie's colors. The blue was too dark to look like Central Auradon's old signature shade, so Ben was allowed to wear it quite often. And something about Ben in red would always do something to him, Doug couldn't explain it if he tried. His eyes greedily took in Ben's subtlety flexing muscles as he worked, memorizing the way he looked with his fingers in his hair. His fingers in his hair, light they were practically married.

 "I'm still working on that thing." Ben said after a while.

 "Hm?" Doug blinked, distracted from his unabashed staring.

 "Y'know." They met eyes in the mirror again.

 "Ah." Doug nodded. "Any luck?" 

 "We're still on the right track, everything is going according to plan. Jay is biting, he wants to fly out to Agrabah whenever he gets the time. I'd give it two or three more weeks before Aziz is sharing our bed. A month at the longest." 

 "I can't believe it's that easy." Doug muttered. Ben had told them all, right before bed one night, that he had a tentative plan for how to get Aziz out of captivity. Ben would do most of the heavy lifting to get him free, but once he was out the only option for him would be to join the court and subsequently be added into their relationship, something that Ben wanted everyone to be okay with before he proceeded. They had all agreed of course. Faeries, like dwarves, were polyamorus by nature so Jane was on board, Lonnie had dated Aziz before the takeover had happened and they were separated, and Ben knew that the Agraben boy was one of the many crushes Doug had once harbored. Still, despite agreeing there was a small part of Doug that never thought Ben could pull off such a feat. That the promise of having their old friend safe and warm in their room was a bedtime story he crafted to soothe them at night.

 "Nothing easy about it, Dougie." Ben laughed. "It's been months. I told you it would be a long process. Long and careful." Ben let another perfect braid fall. Doug caught his hand, bringing it to meet his cheek in quiet affection. The former prince hummed in appreciation. 

 "You-" Doug paused, taking a second look at Ben's arm before releasing it like it had burned him. "Ben what the fuck." 

 Ben flushed, holding his forearm to his chest and not meeting Doug's eyes. "Sorry, I forgot to tell you. It's for today's meeting." 

 Doug bit his tongue, his gut churning at the sight. He'd never get used to it. The bruise on Ben's forearm was huge, an ugly purpling thing that just didn't belong on Ben's perfect skin. It was hideous and painful looking and-

 "It's fake. Glamour." Ben said. 

 "I know."

 "There's no reason for it to be real." 

 There's no reason. Not 'you know it would never be real'. Not 'they could never'. To be completely honest, Doug was one hundred percent certain that if any of them stepped far enough out of line, they would. Isle relationship dynamics were messy and complicated and more than a little ugly sometimes. Doug had personally seen Uma slap the shit out of Harry Hook for speaking out of turn in a meeting and Uma loved her boys more than anything in the world. She waged a war for her boys, and she won. 

 "It's always you." Doug tried not to let his bitterness seep into the words. He failed.

 "Well you're not the best actor so…" Ben's attempt at a joke fell pitifully flat. The half-beast tentatively reached out the offending arm so he could scratch gently at Doug's scalp. Doug let him. This too was a sacred thing, something intimate that was usually reserved for close family and marriage partners. Ben knew. He also knew the comfort it gave Doug on those rougher nights, the ones where sleep would evade him and he'd have nothing but his lovers and the ceiling to calm his beating heart.

 "You know what I mean."

 "You know why I have to." Ben said, calm in his resignation. "If Mal denies Anthony's request for execution there's a strong chance people might think she's getting soft. It's my job to remind them she hasn't lost her edge. If I don't play conquest then she'll have to go make a real example out of someone else. Someone will actually get hurt. I'd much rather be pretend hurt" 

 I'd much rather it wasn't necessary at all, Doug thought with unsettling awareness that Ben was a hundred percent right. It made his skin crawl, imagining all the things Mal was capable of to prevent an uprising.

 The gentle scratching stopped, and Ben braided quietly. It was a thick silence, not suffocating or torturous, but heavy. It was an uncomfortable weight, but it was familiar. The weight of responsibility. A healthy dose of fear. Another decorated braid was finished, and Ben made quick work of tying his hair up in a high ponytail. 

 "You look handsome Dougie." Ben whispered. 

 And he did. Jay's colors suited him well, the rusty red and deep brown contrasted with his pale complexion while complimenting his eyes. His hair was neat and smooth, adorned with mahogany beads and golden wire that sat flush with his scalp so it looked like a headpiece. He looked important. He looked pretty.

 "Why do you like this so much?" He couldn't stop himself from asking.

 "Like what?" Ben hummed, gathering the various loose makeup and hair products on the vanity to put away. Evie liked them to keep a clean space. 

 "This Ben. We dress up and we're showcased and paraded around the whole United States of Auradon like fucking trophies. The posturing and the pretending and getting all dolled up to be pretty little pawns, it's exhausting. Having every minute of every day planned for us, down to what we say and what we do and when. Be real, don't you get fucking sick of it?" 

 Ben gave pause, the unreadable expression back on his face. It looked wrong there. Ben was an open book, especially to Doug. He didn't like not knowing what the man was thinking. 

 "Do you love them?" He asked finally, breaking that damned silence.

 "What?" 

 "Mal, Evie, Jay and Carlos - do you love them?"

 "I'd lay down my life for the crown, they've given me everything when they owed me nothing." The answer was immediate, a knee-jerk reaction to a question he'd been asked again and again by nosy reporters trying to catch him in a lie.

 "No. No Doug, don't give me that bullshit you give the camera. Tell me the truth. It's just us here, you know I won't rat you out. Do you really love them?" 

 "I-" He pressed his mouth into a firm line. Did he love them? He shouldn't. Or at least morally he shouldn't, logically it would make perfect sense for him to love them. They were attractive and impressive and they were all master manipulators. They could talk circles around him, plant seeds in his mind to nourish and grow into what they needed from him and just because he was perfectly aware of it didn't mean he was at all immune. He should love them, he'd been conditioned to from the start.

 And yet. 

 He couldn't truthfully say that all his feelings were a product of carefully orchestrated circumstances. A part of him wanted to. A tiny part of him wanted to think of himself as a helpless victim, some pure intentioned hero of his own fairytale, but that just wasn't the case.

 His heart had fluttered when Evie insisted that he keep his small collection of instruments. She paid for his tutors, commissioned customized handcrafted instruments for him, gave him an entire suite in the castle just for him to practice his music. She affectionately called him her little musician. And it was all simply because she knew how much he enjoyed music. She'd said he was too good to let his talent go to waste. She even let him showcase his talent at balls and festivals when he wanted to, the only form of performance he'd learned to love. It had nothing to do with his reputation or hers, it was a simple silly thing that made him happy and that was enough for her.

 Carlos wasn't cold or cruel to him. Carlos sat in the library with Doug every once in a while, when the two of them weren't busy. And he would walk the shelves with Doug, and Doug would talk and Carlos would listen to him. He gave a damn when he spoke. He was willing to huddle with him and read in gentle silence because he could recognize the value in having a space where he could be silent and secluded, but not alone.

 Jay was smooth and bold and flirty. He made Doug's face flush and his palms sweat, and he seemed to take great joy in doing it, but Jay was also respectful. He never assumed he had the right to Doug's body, even though by Isle standards he had conquered Doug fair and square and could do whatever he damn well pleased. He was thoughtful and considerate. He made time to massage Doug's sore muscles after hard training sessions, and he still paused to ask for consent when makeout sessions turned hot and heavy. He invited Doug to meditate with him out in gardens, knowing how prone the dwarf-kin was to overthinking and general anxious behavior. 

 And Mal protected him fiercer than anyone else ever had in his life. She was ill-mannered and strict, but she always had at least one hearty dwarven style dish served at meal times. She was more often than not the one to personally lead him stumbling back to their room when he got too drunk to function at a festival. She was harsh when she trained them, but she would always say "You're better than that" or "You have more in you." Instead of insulting him or putting him down. He'd personally seen her get into a physical altercation with someone who had insulted him. 

 There were lies in his relationship with the VKs. Sweet lies, petty lies, lies he could see right through and lies he'd probably never know about. But there was also so much truth there.

 "I love them." He said, almost ashamed. "I don't think I could stop if I tried." 

 "I love them too." Ben said. There was a tightness in his shoulders, making him look almost robotic as he cleared the vanity. "And trying to circumvent the moral implications of that would make me go insane. Because honestly it doesn't really matter." 

 "How could you say that?" Doug turned, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. Maybe Ben was right, maybe this was driving him crazy. He felt crazy. His mind was running a mile a minute, his heart beating even faster. "How could you just abandon goodness like that? Everything we've been taught." 

 "Because we were taught wrong, Doug!" Ben exclaimed, slamming down the makeup bag a little harder than necessary. "There is no good and evil! It's not black and white like that, it barely ever is! Look at the state of the kingdom, Doug, really look at it. Auradon hasn't been this progressive for years. Magic is legal again for the first time in over two full decades, there's no more mandatory hormone blockers for magical puberty - which I mean come on mandatory hormone blockers we were denying people access to their basic biology. Is that what you'd call good?"

 "Obviously not."

 "And what about the specism that was so normalized that we had laws, official decrees and legal documents with the word sidekick used to describe all non-human species? That stood up in court. The shit people would whisper about you in the hall - the 'good' people, the model students, hell sometimes even the teachers! It made my blood boil, that anyone could treat someone like that. It made my skin crawl." 

 "I know." Doug looked off. "Thank you for always standing up for me." 

 "It's what I had to do." Ben said, a fire burning in his eyes. "Because it was right. Not because it was good or nice, because it was right. I just- look I get it. It's scary. Everything is different, almost none of it is anything like what we're used to. We're in a very unique and precarious situation, but that's just it. Have you ever stopped to consider that tomorrow morning Mal could place us all under an obedience spell and everything would continue on as normal?" 

"Ben, that's terrifying." A pit was steadily growing in his stomach. "Of course I haven't." 

 "She could. Evie could make dozens of variations of a potion that would do that, she could make them in a day and just like that she'd never have to worry about us betraying her. But she doesn't."

 "No, Benjamin, come on." Doug massaged his temples. He felt a migraine coming. "Are your standards really so low that you think that's something we should be grateful for? That they don't abuse us?" 

"Yes! Yes Doug we should be grateful for that look at where they grew up! Who they grew up with. What could we do if one day they just decided to start treating us like the public thinks they do?" Ben ran frantic fingers through his hair. "It's so much more work and risk to pretend to mistreat us than it would be to actually just mistreat us and they do it the long way anyway. So we don't get hurt. Do you know why?" 

"Because they need us." 

"They don't need us Doug." Ben said.

 "Of course they need us." Doug sputtered, brows furrowing. Had Ben finally lost his mind? "They need us. They especially need you, Ben. You said it yourself." 

 "They needed me. To take over the kingdom." Ben gestured to the window. "It's theirs now. Has been for some time, it's almost been a year."

 "I don't get it." Doug said.

 "I should be dead." Ben said plainly. "That would be the most Isle way to do things. Manipulate and use me to reach their ultimate goal and then stick my head on a spike for my transgressions, parade it around town. Sure there's the risk of me becoming a martyr, but if they stick enough heads on sticks that hope will give way to desolation soon enough. I mean, Doug I am the quote unquote rightful ruler of Auradon, the physical manifestation of the very ideology they hate the most and I'm still alive. I still live in the castle! They've never even threatened to kill me. They don't need me anymore, they could have executed me along with my father all those months ago. The only reason I'm still breathing is because they love me." 

 Ben was pacing now, a habit he had never seemed to be able to drop even since they were small. "And they don't have to love me either. They don't love me because I'm a prince because I'm not one anymore. I have no power, no money, no kingdom in my name. I barely even have real status. In the current social standing I am so insignificant that they could murder me in cold blood and wake up the next morning to eat breakfast like nothing changed." 

 "Your image-"

 "Is useful to them, sure. That's how things work, I have to be useful. Jay has to be useful, Carlos, Evie they all had to be useful to survive. But they don't need my image. Do you honestly think Mal would have a problem stamping out rebellions if I wasn't here to dishearten them? She'd burn the cities to the ground and move on. The VKs who think she's gone soft for how she runs her kingdom would have a blade through their chest before they could utter the phrase. And she wouldn't lose a wink of sleep over it. Our images are useful, but they are not necessary. We're here because they care for us." 

 "And do you know how lucky that makes us? How many people Carlos has dragged out into the middle of the street and beaten to death for less than what Lonnie has done? How many people drooled and pined over Evie? How many people would kill to have Mal's protection like we do? I mean come on Doug, it's your turn to be real, do you know how many partners Jay has had? Flings and situationships and one night stands that were just a warm body or fun little conquest for him? He used to be a thing with Oogie Boogie's kid. Crank, the one on Ginny's news crew. He strung them along for years just because he knew he could. And he brings us breakfast in bed, and bathes us when we're drunk. That's special Doug, that's- I never thought I'd get that. Love where they love me just for me. I have nothing and they give me everything I could ever want." 

 Ben sat heavily on the bed, searching Doug's face, a quiet plea to be understood written clearly on his face. "So I like to dress up because they like to see me dressed up. I like to wear their colors because of the proud little gleam in Carlos' eyes when he sees me in black and white, or the way Mal's smile gets a little wider. I like being shown off because they think I'm worth bragging about. Does it suck having to play up this dumb pitiful version of myself to the public? Yeah a little bit. But not any more than it sucked playing up the confident and assured perfect prince. That wasn't me either. And the thing is I'm not dumb. I know when we're being pandered to and manipulated. I know they lie and they hide things from us, and they probably think my public personality has a little bit of truth to it. Think that I'm naive. And I'm sorry, but I just don't really care. They can think I'm a little dumb, I probably am for sticking around so long. But that just makes it even easier for me to bat my eyes and play with the hem of my vest and say that I've always thought Aziz was kind of cute and I want to go visit his cell one of these days. And for them to not question for a second if I have an ulterior motive behind it." 

 The half-beast sighed, as if a weight was leaving him. And that unreadable expression was finally revealing itself to Doug. There was fear there. "There is no good and evil. There's just what's right and what's wrong and the mountains of gray area in between. Where kingdoms are built and love flourishes, and people live. Social hierarchies develop, like this big fucked up game of chess. And I just happen to like this game, I guess. I understand if you think that makes me awful. Obviously we can't break up publicly, but if you want to end things in private I'll respect your wishes."  

 Doug swallowed, wetting his dry mouth. "I don't want to end things." He muttered.

 Ben looked up, meeting his eyes and for a second he looked so young. Like the little princeling that clutched Doug's hand to lead him through the dark. "You don't?" 

 He shook his head. "I couldn't stop loving you if I tried either, Ben. Nothing will change that." Doug stood, crossing to sit with Ben on the bed. "I need you." 

 Ben wrapped his arms around him with a desperate quickness, squeezing so hard Doug was sure that a normal person would bruise. Being half beast meant he was prone to some pretty impressive feats of strength when he was emotional enough, but dwarves were more sturdy than the average human so Doug could handle it.

 "I love you too." He whispered fervently. "I love you so much. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to raise my voice at you. I got so emotional." 

 "I know." Doug hummed, rubbing circles on his back with a steady hand. Ben needed to be grounded when he was like this. "I know, it's okay. We both got a little loud, huh? It's alright." 

 "And I'm scared. About the winter solstice and whether or not they'll pass that law. I hate watching people die like that. The fires were bad enough." 

 Doug actively resisted letting his muscles tense at the reminder. He couldn't go a single night without remembering the heat beaming on his face. The way Evie's pretty smile looked illuminated by the flames of a burning city. The early stages of their rule were filled with plenty of rebellions being born and burned. Doug had done a lot of crying. Evie and Jay offered their comforts, being the most physically affectionate of the four, but in reality Ben and Jane ended up holding him through the worst of it.

 "It's so much worse when it's that many at a time." Ben whispered. "I hope they don't pass it."

 "Me too." Doug said. "Me too, Ben." 

—----

 The dining hall of what was formerly known as Beast Castle was so spacious it was almost echoing, with towering walls and massive windows to let the light shine through in the morning. It was grand - royal - the perfect setting for a fairytale worthy family to start the day. Doug could think of many ways to describe their little group - a family in their own right - with plenty of adjectives and phrases both pleasant and less than ideal. He could talk for hours, make a list a yard long, Light, at the rate things were going he was going to ask Mal permission to write a memoir in about fifteen years. But the phrase fairytale wouldn't come up a single time. And it was for that reason that the dining hall sat unused, collecting dust. The wide space unnerved Carlos and annoyed Mal. It was nearly impossible between the eight of them to fill the empty space and so most days meals like breakfast which more often than not occurred between just the eight of them were held in one of the numerous meeting rooms. 

 Doug had his fingers firmly interlocked with Ben's as they rounded the corner and stepped into the most favorable of those rooms, which used to host small, discreet meetings where one could discuss less than humane legislation and proposals. It wasn't even on the map of the castle layout. It was moderate in size, and windowless to discourage sensitive information being leaked. Perfectly Isle-approved.

 "There's our boys." Evie's honey brown eyes snapped up when they entered, passing over their outfits. She gave a minute nod of approval that definitely didn't make Doug's head swim with heady pleasure. "You two look just darling." 

 "Good morning, your Highness." They said in unison. It was cute, Doug mused, that despite her impressive kill count and capacity for violence, Evie still found joy in small things like him and Ben speaking at the same time. They were rewarded with a million dollar grin, Evie's cheeks warming pleasantly.

 "And thank you." Doug tacked on, not bothering to tamper his dopey little smile. "You look beautiful as always."

 "So well mannered." She teased, giggling. 

 Ben beamed back at her. "Always for you." He said, throwing her a wink. He went to take his seat, pausing to kiss both Lonnie and Jane on the cheek, whispering his greeting.

 Doug did the same, whispering a quiet good morning to his girlfriends. Lonnie was stunning and bold in Carlos' colors, the picture of strength and beauty, while Jane shined in the radiance of Mal's purples and greens, a proud little smile gracing the faerie's face as he told her as much. He liked to take full advantage of being able to voice just how hot he thinks his former crushes were now that they were no longer an unattainable pipedream. Call it healing his inner tween disaster. Or feeding it, either way he deserved that small joy.

 He also made sure to take the long way around to his seat so he could pass by Jay, allowing the thief to gently take his hand and kiss his knuckles. He absolutely loved to do that for reasons unknown. Doug had a sneaking suspicion it was because Jay was the biggest drama queen known to man, but that was just fine by Doug because he was not so secretly addicted to the way Jay's worn leather gloves felt against his skin.

 Carlos touched his fingertips against the small of Doug's back as he passed, a greeting in his own right, accompanied by a small nod. Doug smiled at him in return. He was grateful that at least one of his partners could appreciate the quiet and reserved side of affection he needed sometimes. 

 Finally, Doug took his seat, nestled between Ben and Lonnie, and turned his attention to the head of the table. Towards Mal.

 It was routine by now, to turn to Mal when everything settled and await instruction. It was second nature, taking orders. Mal was fierce, she was strong and bold. Wickedly clever, calm and calculating in the face of any adversary. Ruthless. Mal was undeniably in charge and Doug couldn't even find it in himself to pretend that wasn't just the way things should be.

 Mal was also drop dead gorgeous, with piercing emerald eyes and sharp features to match her sharp smile. Doug valiantly ignored all the thoughts he had about how those teeth felt nipping at his bottom lip - thank Light for his enhanced dwarven pain tolerance - and focused instead on giving the fae his undivided attention. She demanded nothing less.

 She surveyed the table, eyes lingering on each member of her crew, several attentive eyes gazing back at her. She bared her teeth in a proud grin. There was a barely there nod at the spread before them - fluffy scrambled eggs, hunks of cold cheese, at least an entire bushel of strawberries, bread fresh from the oven, a whole roast duck and just for a Doug a small pot of hearty bat and mushroom stew. At her signal, Doug began to fill his plate, the others following suit and piling food on their previously empty plates. The practice was annoying to Doug once upon a time - and admittedly it also grinded his gears on days where his mood was already sour - but it was an Isle habit, a show of respect. 

 "Good morning, my birdies." Mal cooed. Jay pushed the basket of strawberries towards her with a wink and the dark fae took it with a pleased little hum. Evie giggled with a knowing look. They would not be getting those strawberries back.

 "Good morning, my Queen." Ben said brightly, echoed by Doug and the girls. 

 "We have quite a big day ahead of us." Doug made quick eye contact with Ben. He'd managed to snag a few strawberries before the dark fae could hoard them. A stem protruded from his puckered lips, pinkish juice running down his chin. Doug rolled his eyes. It was absolutely unfair how adorable Ben was. He looked back at Mal. "Very eventful. Very important. Girls, have you managed to wrap your pretty little heads around an itinerary?" 

 Jane cut Ben a look, the half beast looking bashfully at his plate. "No ma'am. Lonnie and I were already dressed and roaming the castle before Doug woke up. We haven't seen Ben all morning, so I assume he went straight back to the room after you gave him the daily debriefing, but we didn't have time to go back there before breakfast so-." 

 "So you have no idea what's going on." Mal finished, rolling her eyes though amusement also flashed in those emerald irises. 

 "Apologies." Ben muttered, red with embarrassment. 

 "No need for them, doveling." She waved a hand. "It's better to hear it straight from the horse's mouth." She snapped at Doug. " Listen in, songbird. This bears repeating." 

 Doug nodded his understanding. There was a time where being snapped at like a dog would have annoyed him, but as it stood he had since learned there were worse ways they could get his attention. Jay had a habit of throwing food, Carlos had a habit of throwing punches. The four of them were a lot of things, but polite wasn't one of them.

  "Like I said, we're all going to be very busy today, which means I want you all on your best behavior." Mal said, buttering a large hunk of bread. "I really don't have the time for attitude adjustment. Los', Jay that goes for you too."

 "I'm not in the business of making promises I can't keep." Jay winked, making the fae roll her eyes yet again. Carlos snickered, but otherwise offered no words of acknowledgement. That seemingly spoke for itself. 

  "This morning we have three meetings you'll be expected to attend." Mal moved on, seemingly deeming them a lost cause. "For the sake of efficiency and my own sanity, they'll be stacked up back to back right on top of each other. You will be present for all three of them and in the name of everything evil and rotten you will keep your mouths shut." She paused, pinning each one of them to their chair with her intense gaze. Doug swallowed thickly around his mouthful, fighting the urge to fidget with his vest. "Your presence is valued and necessary, but I'll remind you that you're to be seen and not heard. If you must speak, you will speak to one of us, and you will speak to us quietly. Don't make a scene, don't try to be a hero. Don't be a fucking idiot." 

 "Lonnie." Carlos said, leveling the strong-minded woman with an intense gaze of his own. "Don't be a fucking idiot." 

 "You wanted me because I was smart." Lonnie responded, voice just as flat and gaze just as sharp. She and Carlos were cut from the same cloth, calm and thoughtful and scary smart. They got along well because of it, but it also meant they faced off often, at odds in their quiet stubbornness. 

 "Smart." Carlos conceded. "But not nearly clever enough. Just keep your fucking mouth shut, Lonnie." 

 "What exactly are we going to be discussing that has you feeling the need to remind us?" Lonnie said tightly, mouth pulled into a thin line. "What's going to make us want to cause a scene?" 

 "You won't be discussing jackshit." Carlos rolled his eyes. "You four will sit and look pretty. And listen. If you're not too busy trying to hold onto this hero fantasy you'll actually learn something." 

 "I let go of being a hero long ago." Lonnie said, just on the edge of wistfulness.

 "Then act like it." Mal said firmly, nipping the growing argument in the bud. "And instead allow yourself to consider what you could grow into when faced with reality." 

 Doug inched his hand over, linking his pinky with hers under the table. Lonnie was the one who struggled the most with the way things were operating. More often than not she'd end her day emotionally drained and in need of some TLC. Doug and the other two worked in tandem trying to keep her grounded and calm throughout the day. A stressed Lonnie is one who makes rash decisions. 

 "You four also have an interview today." Mal continued, satisfied with the resulting silence. "Ginny has been just salivating for a juicy scandal. That means I'm going to bet Crank will be the one shoving the mic in your face instead of her." She paused, her features alight with a strange mixture of amusement and disdain. She wore the same look when she spoke about Audrey or Chad Charming, and Doug wondered what Crank could have possibly done to have warranted such a reaction. He glanced at Jay, who wore a smug little smirk, and then at Carlos, whose face was pinched in a scowl. Perhaps he was better off not knowing. "They're gonna flirt."

 "They learned from the best." Jay said, eyes dancing. "So expect them to turn up the charm. They'll be-" 

 "Vulgar." Carlos said flatly. "Vulgar, sleazy and in your face, playing to your weakness and insecurities to make you feel flustered and vulnerable and special." 

 Mal smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Down bruiser." Carlos flexed his jaw, suddenly very interested in his fork. Evie covered her mouth to stifle her giggling. "The important part is that you stay focused. The flirting is nothing but a distraction and a petty attempt at pissing Carlos off. They're gonna try to trap you with intricate phrases and twist up your words and get you all flustered for that viral moment. They can't have that viral moment. Not from us and not this close to the winter solstice, so prepare yourselves now." 

 "When in doubt, smile and deflect." Evie reminded them. "Use their flirty personality to your advantage, they're quite crass and no matter what you may have grown accustomed to you're still Auradon raised. We'd rather a clip go viral of you blushing too much to speak than of you speaking out against us." 

 "Even then I'd rather not give them the satisfaction." Jay rolled his eyes, tearing turkey off the bone. Next to him, Carlos scoffed. "Y'all are smart, use your heads. Don't fall for dumb shit."

 "I'm going to tell you ahead of time, so you can prepare to school your expressions now." Mal shared a look with Evie, who nodded. "We have a lot of people on our ass to pass a bill that will prohibit Auradonian citizens from purchasing any new supplies or assistance they'd need to get through the winter. Under this law it would also be illegal for any native citizen to cease or obtain the supplies, but no one could take what they already have. Basically they're on their own."

 "What the fuck?" Lonnie cut in. "Why?" 

 "Reparations." Mal took a napkin to her duck-grease stained hands. "It would be a one time policy, in place for just this year. Whoever dies from it dies, and the following winters would just continue on as normal." 

 "You can't." Lonnie glared, gripping the table.

 "Lonnie please." Ben whispered, frantically trying to make eye contact with her.

 "You can't be fucking serious." She turned her venomous glare onto Ben and he recoiled like he'd been burned. "She can't do that." 

 "Hey, Ben has nothing to do with this, he's in the same position we're in." Jane spoke firmly despite her paling cheeks. She was obviously just as upset, but she'd always had a nasty habit of internalizing.

 "Fight or yield." Mal said, deadly calm. Beside him, Ben took an audible gasp. Jane let out a shocked little squeak, an old habit Doug knew she was trying to squash but just seemed to keep coming back. Doug's own stomach turned. The 'fight or yield' mentality was another Isle tradition the other four had carried over, used mostly by Mal, though Carlos and Jay had each pulled that card a couple times. When Evie had explained it to him, she said that it was a way to prevent useless arguments and to keep the most capable person in charge. Most times the challenged party would simply yield and the matter would be done with. If they felt strongly enough about it to fight, there was a physical altercation of the challenger's choice, usually a sparring match armed with a small blade. The fight was over when one of them was incapacitated, fatally wounded or tapped out. In a gang setting sometimes a punishment took place for the loser, but in most cases losing was punishment enough.

 It only took one match for Doug to figure out they stood no chance against any of the Core Four in a fight like that. One where they were actually trying to defeat them. Lonnie liked to try her luck once every blue moon.

 "I don't-" She glanced around the table for support. Doug met her eyes finally and offered a minute shake of the head. Not worth it. 

 "Fight. Or yield." Mal repeated, folding her hands. "Those are your options." 

 "Mal you have to understand what I'm saying." It was like a knife twisting in Doug's heart hearing her sound so desperate. "This is not justice, it's genocide." 

 "And that is ultimately in my hands to decide." Mal's eyes glowed emerald, a tell-tale warning sign of what's to come. "Listen to me phoenix, you will fight me properly or you will yield to me fully, but I will not tolerate this half assed middle ground you've taken up."

 "But-"

 "You will grow bolder or you will grow meeker, Li Lonnie, and you will accept the consequences of either choice. That is not a request. You are above this petty foolish squabbling, do you understand me? This is cowardice at its worst and you are no coward. Now fight or yield." 

 "I yield." She said, barely above a whisper.

 "And that's a good fucking choice." Mal flashed a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. "I don't know what I'm going to do about the proposal, but it's none of your concern. I understand that you want to help, but none of you are even close to being equipped to hold your ground in this matter, they would devour you if you tried. I'm trying to-." She made a vague gesture, a frustrated flick of her wrist and a low grumble that almost sounded like a growl. "There is no cowardice in submission. I am your leader and you need to trust that I know best. I don't silence you just because I can. I'm protecting you, believe it or not. They're gonna ask you about it, you're going to smile and you're going to deflect. Is that clear?" 

 They all nodded, Jane cutting her eyes sideways to make eye contact with him. She glanced at Ben and then back at Doug. Doug shook his head again minutely. Nothing even Ben could do but hope. 

 "After your interview, you're free to do whatever you please until you're called to prepare for tonight's festival. I suggest charging your social batteries, whatever that may look like for you." Mal said, all the bite gone from her voice.

 "The party is typical Isle so dress to move, have fun with your makeup and don't be surprised if you lose something tonight. Stay close to one of us, don't leave without an escort and if someone tries to harm you, you scream." Evie reached into her pocket, producing four simple bracelets. "These are enchanted to alert us of any possible danger, be that moving outside of the approved radius or something as simple as a spike in heart rate." 

 She passed them around the table, Doug sliding his on and welcoming the familiar tug of Mal's magic. It should unsettle him, magic marked with the imprint of a dark fae, but it was a comfort at this point. That magic had saved his life more than once 'darkness' be damned. 

 "There's also a chance people will try to kiss you, or touch you." Jay said and there was that familiar glint of possessiveness in his eyes. "Usually if you push them off they get the message and move on to someone more willing. If not, you all have permission to do whatever you need to do to get yourself to safety and let one of us know."

 "Just be careful." Carlos' eyes flitting over each of their wrists as if to make sure the bracelets still existed. "Don't take those off, something might happen. Most people treated the winter solstice festival like it was the last night of their lives because for a lot of them it was. At least a handful decide they'd rather off themselves than suffer through another Isle winter. Even more of them die through the season, from hypothermia or starvation mostly. Obviously that's not the reality of the situation anymore, but old habits die hard, this party is a breeding ground for bad decisions. Don't take drinks from people, don't take pills from people, don't take joints from people. Don't be a fucking idiot." 

 "On that note, you'll all be staying in our room tonight." Mal said. The room Doug, Ben, Jane and Lonnie shared was a kindness they'd been afforded when they first swore loyalty. Isle relationship stages moved much faster than Auradon standards, and while sharing a room with your crew was commonplace on the Isle, Mal understood why some nights they'd want more privacy amongst themselves. Most nights one or more of them spent the night in the Queen's suite. The bed was big enough to hold the eight of them- an enchantment of Mal's own doing - and Doug would admit nothing could beat a cuddle pile. Still most nights whether they joined the Core Four was up to them.

 "Uma and her crew are spending the night here, and a couple old friends." She explained. "It'll make me feel better to have you all in our bed where we know you're safe. If any of you would prefer not to be touched, arrangements can be made, but you're all staying with us. Am I clear?" 

 "Yes ma'am." They chorused

 "Good," she turned to her crew's side of the table, waving a hand. "Anything else?" 

 There was some shaking of heads, Evie reciting an adorable little, "nope." Mal waved a hand towards Doug's side of the table, allowing them free speech to ask questions. 

 "Carlos." Lonnie clenched her fists under the table, plate mostly untouched. "After our interview can we spar?" 

 Carlos hummed, looking her over with a small smile. "I won't go easy on you just because you're all pissy."

 "I'd expect nothing less." She replied, that same desperation buried deep in her eyes. Someone who didn't know her as well wouldn't have known it was there at all. Doug knew better. "I want training, not pity." 

 Carlos smiled wider, something Doug insisted was tied for the most scary and most alluring thing known to man. "Good girl. Come armed." 

 "I'll send some fast healing potion down to the training room." Evie rolled her eyes playfully. 

 "I'd also like to make a request." Jane spoke up, a smile playing at her lips. "You said not to take joints from anyone at the party but you never said we couldn't have one." 

 "I'll take care of you pretty girl." Evie winked, delighting in the resulting blush dusting the light fae's cheeks. "I also prefer to have a relaxant before an Isle party. There's plenty of stimulus later in the night."

 "Actually speaking of requests, I do have an announcement." Jay dropped the rib cage of duck, picked clean back onto his plate. "In a week from today I will be traveling to Agrabah to visit the former Sultan and Sultaness and their kid Aziz. Obviously I'll be seeing Aladdin and Jasmine alone - I won't kill them or anything- this meeting is purely political. Agrabah needs someone on the throne. I'm not willing to step away from the castle full time yet, and I don't trust Mozenrath's little brat for shit. I've pulled their files regarding their past votes and it looks like they've pretty much always been anti-Isle so as long as they're willing to comply with legislation and stuff I don't see the harm in reinstating them." 

 Doug tried not to let his mouth hang open in shock. Jay always said he didn't hold a grudge against Aladdin, that his father was a piece of shit loser and there was no way Aladdin could've known he would reproduce. And Doug had believed him because - well he heard plenty of stories about how Jafar behaved on the Isle, both from a tense but casual Jay to a furious and bitter Mal. So yeah Doug didn't think he held a grudge, but he didn't ever consider he was give-them-back-their-kingdom levels of chill about it.

 "Mal's approved the offer, but has decided to stay here instead of accompany me." Jay continued, oblivious to Doug's shock. "Instead Evie will come with me. Ben has also shown some interest recently in reconnecting with Aziz, so I'll be taking him as well. Li Lonnie, I know you and Aziz used to date, so I figured it would be cruel of me not to extend the invitation for-"

 "Yes." Lonnie said resolutely. 

 "Don't interrupt me." Jay's voice hardened around the edges, a rare and frightening occurrence. 

 Lonnie cast a look down at her napkin, flush with shame. The interruption thing was a common pet peeve amongst all four of their villainous lovers. After years of being looked down on and pushed to the side, talking over them was a sure-fire way to piss any of them off immediately. Lonnie leaned forward in a half bow. "Forgive me, I got ahead of myself." 

 "Yes you did." Jay agreed. "Let's squash that habit before we get to these meetings. We can't be as lenient in public as we are in private." She nodded, eyes still downcast. Jay sighed. "You're welcome to accompany us on the trip if you behave. You'll both be given the opportunity to speak to Aziz, and if you can stomach seeing him chained to the wall I'll allow you two to enter his cell." 

 "You're a fucking teddy bear." Carlos scoffed.

 "Shut the fuck up 'Los. Not every issue can be solved by stabbing it." Jay rolled his eyes. "Ben, Lonnie, am I understood?"

 "Yes sir." They chorused. Jay grinned.

 "Beautiful." 

 "All of you eat." Mal said. "You'll need your energy today."

 The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. Doug rubbed soothing circles in Lonnie's thighs with one hand, eating with the other. One of the many times where he was grateful to be ambidextrous. Eventually the tension in her body seemed to ease, shoulders relaxing as she polished off her plate. Doug caught Ben's sigh of relief. 

 He could understand the feeling. Lonnie's spirit was a strong virile thing, perhaps the only thing that had gotten her this far. It lived through countless hardships, it comforted her in her cell and sheltered her from the worst of her pain. Doug wasn't foolish enough to think Mal was trying to tear it down on purpose, the dark fae knew more than anyone how important the fight in her was. Still he couldn't help but worry that eventually that light inside her would die, snuffed out by the helplessness of her situation. 

 Maybe he could bring it up. Or Ben. Mal had a soft spot for Ben. 

 There was a pit in his stomach by the time the meal came to an end. Lonnie took his hand as they stood, squeezing it twice and sharing a look with him. These meetings were never pleasant. The VKs in power that made up Mal's council regarded them as a nuisance at best. It was demoralizing, sitting in a room where no one respected you but the people who brought you into it. Uma and her crew weren't too bad, but the rest of them seemed to think it was a game to harass and belittle Doug and the others. They couldn't touch them, that much was certain. But Mal couldn't demand respect for them. They had to do that themselves. 

 Ben hugged Lonnie tightly - perhaps a little too tightly, but the warrior could grin and bear it. 

 "I'm sorry." He whispered, burying his face in her hair.

 "Don't be." She said fiercely. "Jane was right, my anger has no place with you. I'm not even angry at them. Which…just makes me angrier at myself. And this whole fucking thing." 

 "Anger is a burden." Jane said, kissing her on the cheek. "But if wielded correctly anger is also power. Don't let your burdens kill your potential Lonnie. Don't let it rob you of your power." 

 "When did you get so wise?" Lonnie laughed, shaking her head.

 "It's a side effect of training under the Queen." Jane said, cutting her eyes ahead of them, where Mal was already sauntering out of the room. "She's full of wisdom when you listen closely enough. She cares for us deeply."

 "I know." Lonnie said. "I know. It's just-" 

 "Hard." Doug squeezed her hand again, then let it fall to her side. "It's hard." 

 They drifted as they walked, each naturally falling into step with the royal whose colors they wore. Jane and Mal walked in tandem, two of the most powerful fae in the land, made stronger in their union. The shining beacon of light and dark magic. Doug could feel their magic rolling off of them in waves, Mal's only made stronger by the bracelet on his wrist. He had to tear his eyes away after a moment, or else he'd walk right into a wall. Fae charm was powerful magic, made stronger by the fact that he loved both of the fae in question 

 Ben walked a half step behind Evie, letting himself be gently dragged along. She was holding the hand of his artificially bruised arm, leaving it exposed to all who chose to look. He got a few jeers from passerbys, mocking taunts and whistles. He turned his face inward, hiding his flushed face in his opposite shoulder, playing embarrassed. His shoulders began to shake shallowly, and for a moment Doug thought he was crying until he heard Ben's signature goofy laugh. He was giggling, trying to tamper his laughter with his body. Evie smiled, whispering something in his hair far too softly for Doug to hear.

 Lonnie walked a half step in front of Carlos, his hand resting steadily on the small of her back. To some it may look like he was pushing her, but Doug saw it as the kindness it was. Walking behind her, guiding her and letting her lead. Providing her subtle comfort. He was showing her he still respected her, as a warrior and a lover. It was especially needed after public spats like that, where politics had to bleed into their casual lives. She needed to be reminded it didn't alter the love they had for her.

 "Perceptive little songbird." Jay whispered, his warm breath tickling the nape of Doug's neck. He shivered, suppressing the urge to jump out of his skin. He hadn't even heard the thief approach him. "Always so observant." 

 "Perception pays well." Doug recovered quickly from his shock, leaving behind the warm fuzzy feeling of being the sole focus of Jay's attention. "Without it I'd be nothing." 

 "Not nothing, songbird. Never nothing." Jay pulled away with a smirk, sensing his flusteredness. "You look good."

 "Your colors do me many favors." 

 "I'd have to agree but," the Agraben reached out a hand, gently smoothing his vest down where it had flipped up in the back. "Careful. If you're going to wear my colors, wear them right." 

 "Of course, sir." And Doug would admit it was a bit gratuitous. Perhaps slightly underhanded. It wasn't any sort of requirement to address Jay by his title, but he knew it got the thief going. Doug and the others were the only ones Jay truly had power over, Mal was his superior, Evie and Carlos his equals. The Auradonian half of his court was special in that way, they weren't insignificant like the bodies that used to warm his bed or even disposable like Crank had apparently been. They were the only ones that Jay loved and also got to own, in the way that Mal owned all of them.

 Doug didn't fully understand it - he really never could having never lived on the Isle - but he could gather enough information to be a tease. Jay didn't give a shit about the masses of nameless faces who had to bow and defer to him, but hearing 'sir' or 'my lord' from Ben's mouth never failed to make the man's pupils dilate. The first time Lonnie had said it unprompted Doug was sure he'd kiss her right there at the dinner table, manners be damned. It really did pay to be perceptive. 

 "You're gonna end up missing the meeting if you keep talking to me like that." Jay smirked, playful and flirty but Doug could almost bet there was some layer of truth there.

 "Well then we'd both be winning wouldn't we?" 

 "So clever." His hands lingered despite their task being long over, fingers tracing delicately up his back and doing a brilliant job of distracting Doug from his unpleasant meeting related thoughts. Replacing them with far less suitable ones. "Wicked clever." 

 "Oh please-" 

 "C'mon Dougie, say it. Just once." His hands felt massive on his shoulders, heavy and warm. His face was close again, voice low and teasing. "Make me happy?" 

 And Light, this man would be the death of him. He was losing this game of cat and mouse, just like he always did and always would until the end of time. Fuck Jay for making losing feel so good. 

 "Long live evil." He whispered, throat as dry as the Agraben sands. Jay laughed, absolutely delighted. 

 "Good boy." He was clapped on the shoulder, and they were stopping, leaving Doug with a red face and slightly tighter pants in front of the meeting room.

 "I have faith in all of you." Mal spoke lowly before they entered, all of them huddled together. "Don't space out, pay attention and try not to act too pathetic." 

 "Except for me." Ben smiled mischievously. "Who should act as pathetic as possible." 

 "That's my wicked little doveling." Mal grinned, pulling the former prince in for a fierce kiss and pulling him into the meeting room.

 "Hey," Jay whispered, pulling Doug in before he could walk in after them. "If you have nothing better to do after your interview, you could always come find me. I bet I could make you sing for me." Jay winked, then schooled his face into casual professionalism and ducked into the meeting room like he hadn't just knocked the wind out of Doug's lungs.

 "Evil's sake." Doug muttered, then paused. "Light." He whispered, massaging his temple. "Light's sake." Like it matters. He shook his head entering at Jay's heels like a lamb to slaughter. 

—-------

"Douglass." Mal stopped him on his way out of the third and final meeting. "A word." 

 "Yes, My Queen." 

 The meeting room drained itself, a couple of VKs sending him baleful glances. Others sent him looks of pity, like they thought she was about to hurt him. He could laugh at the thought. Ben squeezed his shoulder on the way out.

 "I have a request of you." Mal said once the room was finally empty. She gestured to the seat across from her and he sat. "And it is a request, so you can deny it."

 "There's little I'd refuse you." He said honestly. He ran his fingers across the bracelet Evie gave him earlier, the cool texture grounding him. The meetings were as rough as he'd imagined, he had just had a very unpleasant four hours.

 "I don't know if you've noticed, but my mother's staff is sitting and collecting dust in a vault somewhere. Do you know why, songbird?"

 "Because you want nothing to do with her." Doug said. An educated guess.

 Mal hummed. "Partly yes. But mostly because a faerie's staff, their chosen vessel to wield and protect their magic, much like their eyes, is a window to the soul. I'm aware sometimes you think mine is pretty dark." 

 "I hardly-" 

 "Please, let's not insult your intelligence or mine." Mal smiled, something smaller than her typical manic grin, but still genuine. "It's okay. I understand how rough of a transition it's been for all of you. But I will let you know that however black you think my soul has become, hers is a hundred times darker. That's why I killed the bitch." 

 "But her staff- it still holds onto her magic?" Doug asked.

 "Clever boy. Yes, unfortunately it's oozing with it. If I were to wield it, her magic would seep into mine. Infect it. Before long I'd be just as nasty as she was, maybe more. You can imagine why I've decided not to take that risk. Obviously I can still practice without it. Wandless magic, potions and spells. Occasionally I'll use a temporary stand in for larger spells. Any stick will do if I'm only channeling a portion of my magic. It just needs something to travel through" 

 Doug could practically hear the gears clicking in his own head. "It's almost been a year, things are starting to settle down and so-" 

 "So it's time I had a staff of my own." Mal finished, leaning in. "I understand that your chosen study is music, but I also know that all dwarves must study craftsmanship for a time. And I'll wager by that wooden ring on Ben's finger that you're pretty proficient in woodwork." 

 "You want me to build you a staff." He realized.

 "A scepter." She flashed her teeth. "I like shiny things. Of course I'd allow you creative liberties. You know what I like. And again, you can feel free to deny the offer, I could always outsource or travel to the Moors to have it made." 

 "You would-" He licked his lips, eyes searching her features for even a hint of mockery, an indication that this was a joke or a test. "You'd trust me to make your scepter?"

 "Why shouldn't I? What would you do to it?" Mal asked, amusement coloring her tone. 

 "Well I could- not would- could curse it. Sabotage it, trap your magic or- or diminish it I mean I know a few dwarven runes-" 

 "Old magic." Mal hummed.

 "Yes, but powerful magic." Doug stressed. "Maybe the only force in the world that could hold a candle to yours. You're not like Adam, you know about dwarven tradition. You know I could betray you." 

 "You could." Mal conceded. "But I don't think you will Douglass. Because as rotten and wicked as you may think I am, I think that deep down you know that I always have what's best for this kingdom and for you in mind. All of you. I think you believe in me. The least I could do is believe in you." 

 Doug opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Mal's eyes danced with confidence and amusement and- pride. Pride in him. "You'll have your scepter, your Highness. I swear it." 

Chapter Text

 When faced with captivity it was often the mundane things a person missed. The feeling of wind hitting your face, the smell of the grass after a storm, the sound of soft rain and piano. Small things, things you didn't notice quite how much you enjoy until they were torn away from you. Blankets, sunlight, the open sea, cream cheese bagels, music, colored pencils and dim-lit candles. 

 Fruit.

 For Lonnie it was definitely fruit. Fruit pies and tarts, sure, but really what she missed most of all was fresh cold fruit, pulled straight from the fridge and cut into little bite sized pieces.

 The prison system in Wei was rudimentary but efficient. It was mostly meant for housing petty thieves for a few weeks at a time, a preventative measure to keep them from being sent to the Isle in the future. The standard meal was simply plain congee and boiled eggs. That's what she lived on for two months, day in and day out. Nutritionally sufficient and filling, but bland, mushy and rarely ever hot when Lonnie got around to eating it. It didn't take long before she was salivating at the very thought of biting into a crisp green grape.

 Eventually it got worse. She couldn't sleep, could barely choke down the lukewarm food. She spent nights tossing and turning because she couldn't get her mind off of sweet juicy mangos and succulent peaches. When she couldn't sleep she'd close her eyes and pantomime the slow soothing action of slicing fruit. It was the only thing that could mellow her out. It was pitiful enough to bring tears to her eyes. She felt like she was losing her mind.

 Now that she was free of her cell she couldn't get enough. She ate fruit all day and she wasn't picky about it either. She'd eat pretty much any kind she could get her hands on, storing entire baskets of them at a time in the fridge for her to grab at any given moment. Ben - the beautiful thoughtful idiot - spent all day once baking her an apple pie that she demolished half of by herself with a fork in hand and tears of joy running down her face.

 Mysteriously enough, fruits of increasing obscurity were turning up with no explanation, sitting in the fridge with her name on it. She'd like to think this was also Ben's doing, but the half beast had given up his assets with his throne. Even if it was entirely in his nature to give her such a thoughtful gift, he just didn't have the financial means or social ties to do that anymore. His gifts were more centered around acts of service now. Which means it had to be somebody else. And of course considering the fact that every card with her name was marked by a small but detailed drawing of a phoenix in the corner, she didn't have to guess very hard at who.

 "Stupid fucking nickname." The harsh thud of the blade thwacking against wood, her stroke sure and strong. The poor kiwi never stood a chance. "Stupid fucking fae and their mind games."  The kiwi went from two halves to four quarters, those quarters meticulously cut into slices and finding its new home in her bowl, already half full of green grapes. The fruit was so cold her fingers were numb. Lonnie was already salivating. 

 This felt absurd, ranting to herself in the middle of the night in an empty kitchen, slicing fruit and nursing a bottle of whiskey. It was definitely absurd that she was holding a knife right now - an actual blade that could pierce flesh and rip tendons. She shouldn't be allowed access to a weapon. 

 "I'm just that little of a threat." Bitterness lapped at her tone like the tide hitting the shore. "I could stab them. Should." 

 She grabbed her bottle by the neck, taking a swig and wincing slightly at the bitter taste. The liquor was stupid expensive, something old and indulgent that she hoped was Jay's but more than likely belonged to King Adam back when he was more than a cold body and a rolling head. 

 She'd watched his execution, hidden in plain sight, just another body in a crowd. It was her first time watching someone die. She still remembered the pit in her stomach, like the feeling you get when you're teetering on the top of a roller coaster, except much less exciting and it wouldn't leave her, even hours later. She picked up the bottle for the first time that night, desperate to get the image of his glassy lifeless eyes out of her mind. Trying to drown out the sound of Ben screaming and crying, his grief evident in his shredded voice despite the fact that he stood obediently by Evie's side. Didn't so much as step forward even as his father bled out in front of him. Lonnie never really much liked Adam, he was a shitty ruler and an even shittier dad, but she never wanted him dead. Never wanted anyone dead. The next morning she started her rebellion. It had been the longest lasting rebellion yet at the time.

 Obviously it was only a matter of time before it was crushed. Mal was ruthless and efficient when it came to disbanding rebellions. To her knowledge no other group had managed as long after her army was scattered and slaughtered and she'd been chucked in a cell.

 The alcohol was another thing she found herself reaching for as soon as she was free. It was a nasty habit, and one she knew would get her in trouble some day. But like any vice, she needed it. Light knows she needed something to suppress the urge to impale herself on her own blade. If right now that happened to be fruit salad and stiff drinks- well in her opinion she could be much worse off.

 "One day." She muttered, the promise empty and comforting all the same. She split a dragon fruit with a mighty swing, the thud echoing across the empty kitchen, filling the massive space. "One day I'll bury my blade in each and every one of their chests." 

 "Oh, but that's so messy." Lonnie startled, dropping the knife like it burned her and whirling around to face one Evie Grimhilde. Her stomach dipped viciously, like a boat succumbing to the sea. The witch giggled. Her lithe frame had filled out a bit now that it was properly fed, giving way to sensual curves that her silken navy pajamas hugged. The sight of it made the knots in Lonnie's stomach worsen. Evie pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the halved fruit. "Don't let the name fool you Li Lonnie, the dragon fruit cannot actually fight back. No need to be such a bully." 

 Lonnie dropped to one knee, bowing her head. "Your Majesty." Evie had little sheep faces on her fuzzy slippers.

 "If you run us through with a sword then you have to think about cleanup, the very likely possibility of the weapon being traced back to you, and let's not even mention the trouble you'd have even getting remotely close enough to the other three once you've slain one of us." Evie laughed again, soft and deceptively light hearted. "No darling, you're better off poisoning us. Preferably all at once, and at a large gathering so you can shift the blame. " 

 Light, she hated being mocked. Lonnie clenched her teeth, eyes resolutely trained on the furry faces on her slippers. She found herself wishing, not for the first time, that the more amorous VKs didn't get off so much much at the sound of their own fucking voice. Jay was just as bad. "I apologize, Your Highness." 

 "For what?" The telltale crunch of one of her prized grapes being pilfered. "Snack time, or conspiracy against the crown?" 

 Lonnie could hear the smile in her voice. She did not smile back. "I…" She struggled for a second, grasping around her tired, whiskey addled brain for proper ass-kissing form. "For whatever I've done to displease you."

 "Oh please, Lonnie, stand. There's no need for all these formalities." Lonnie didn't stand, but she did lift her gaze, staring up at Evie's perfect face. The queen was pouting, honest to light fucking pouting down at her. It takes every last bit of her PR training to tamper down a scowl. "Why are you being like this?"

 "I'm not sure what you mean." She wasn't really sure what any of them meant most of the time, it was entirely infuriating. They talked in endless circles and winding phrases. "Is this not the behavior you've asked of me?" 

 "I couldn't imagine myself requesting something so foolish." Evie reached a hand down, trailing two elegant fingers along Lonnie's clenched jaw. "Let it be known that you bring me no displeasure. Quite the opposite actually." Her hand closed around Lonnie's jaw, grasping it lightly. "Stand. Please." 

 Lonnie stood, ignoring the way her legs shook like a newborn doe, and how Evie's dainty fingers left fire in their wake where they touched her skin. Lonnie's hand found its way around Evie's wrist before she could consider how foolish it was. "You drive me mad." Her skin was as soft as silk. Her pulse was steady and sure, nothing like Lonnie's own racing heart.

 Evie raised an eyebrow at the gesture, amused. "I'll assume this little pity party is about earlier today?" 

 She flushed, shame and anger roiling under her skin. "I'd rather not talk about it. Rest assured, the message has been received." 

 "Hm." Evie's hand finally fell away from her face, leaving a distinct absence of heat where it once was. Her pride wasn't quite wounded enough to chase the warmth. "But you want to drink about it?"

 Lonnie's eyes cut between the bottle and the Queen, an uneasy feeling settling in her gut. "I can-" 

 "Pour me a glass please." Evie hopped effortlessly up on the counter, right next to Lonnie's cutting board. She picked up the abandoned knife, studying it for a minute before handing it back to her handle first and nodding at the halved dragon fruit. "For your slaughtered enemy."

 "Thanks." Her voice wasn't working in her favor. How dare the traitorous thing waver. She took the knife, making quick work of peeling and slicing the dragon fruit and throwing it into the bowl. Then she grabbed the first clean cup she could get her hands on - which just so happened to be a teacup - and poured Evie a generous double shot.

 "It's cold. Stored the bottle in the freezer. " She muttered, handing it to her.

 "You're sweet." Evie took the teacup, giggling softly. She was quite giggly for an evil murderer. The witch sipped the burning liquid like a lady, not wincing in the slightest despite the potency. "Expensive taste, little phoenix."

 "You should be proud of me." Lonnie said dryly. "I stole it." 

 "Wicked girl." Evie's amber eyes gleamed in the low light. "There's the dry wit I've come to look forward to."

 "Then why try so hard to condition me out of it?" She huffed testily, sliding down the counter to sit at its base. Her fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle again, taking another deep swig before pulling the freshly sliced fruit towards her. She popped a grape into her mouth, biting down with a little more force than necessary. 

 Today she'd collected a new bruise. She'd refused an interview, some public appearance Mal wanted her to make to officially declare Zhao Shin, the Hun who currently sat on the Wei throne, as the rightful ruler. She unsurprisingly found she'd rather swallow her sword. She tried pleading and reasoning. Explained that quite frankly her silence on the matter was speaking volumes on its own and the four of them should be lucky she hadn't already stolen a mic off of Ginny Gothel and pronounced the vile woman a thief and a murderer. Insisted that endorsing her was a betrayal to her people, her country and her integrity that she just couldn't make herself commit.

 But Mal was an immovable force once she'd made up her mind about something. It was like talking to a brick wall. Eventually Mal stopped humoring her all together, invoking that stupid fucking "fight or yield" Isle bullshit. It caught Lonnie completely off guard, everything from the calm look on the fae's face to the absurdity of the whole fucking situation. After the shock wore off she was just pissed off. In fact she was fucking seething. This obsession with making her cow and bend and surrender was nothing short of infuriating. Maybe that's what made her choose to fight. Maybe that's what made her think she could win. 

  Jay offered to fight in Mal's place but the fae wasn't having it, insisting that Lonnie fight her head on. That if she was going to have an Isle attitude she should back it up with some Isle action. In the end the fight only lasted a grand total of forty-five seconds. She didn't even need magic. A vicious sweep of the leg, Mal's sharp claws digging into her face and a palm driving into her chest to push the breath out of her lungs. That's all it took before Lonnie had to swallow her pride and whimper out an apology before her rib cage caved in under the pressure. 

 It took her less than a minute to lose.

 "You will smile for that camera, Li Lonnie, and you'll do it wearing my fucking colors, do you understand me?" Mal hissed, eyes glowing emerald. 

 The resulting 'yes ma'am' burned like acid crawling up her throat.

 It was absolutely humiliating. She couldn't help but cry - Mal's claws were sharp as shit- leaving her angrily swiping at tears when she was let up. Mal's nails had drawn blood, leaving crescent shaped imprints in the supple skin of her cheeks. Her chest felt like someone had driven a pickaxe through it. 

 Evie gave her something for the pain, pushed incessantly into her palm despite her refusal. The ugly bruise on her chest remained, a constant reminder of her inferiority. Doug and Ben spent the rest of the day with her while she avoided Mal and the others. Doted on her and fretted over her in the way they just couldn't help but do. But no amount of hot tea and gentle touch could quell the fire raging in her chest, right underneath her brand new accessory. Nothing could.

 Except maybe the whiskey.

 "A liar and a thief. Jay will be thrilled to have a mini-me." Lonnie glared up at the witch. You're not funny. She didn't dare say it, but she hoped if she thought it hard enough it'd be heard nonetheless. Evie laughed again, cheeks coloring, though from the amusement or the liquor was anyone's guess. "I thought you didn't want to talk about it." 

 "I don't." She shoved a chunk of kiwi in her mouth, not at all petulant. 

 "Hm." Evie was staring at her. The witch did that a lot lately, staring at her like she was some hard-earned trophy, analyzing her like some organism to be studied. Lonnie wasn't naive enough to deny that to a certain degree she was a trophy. Brave, smart, strong Li Lonnie, daughter of Wei's greatest warriors, reduced to a teary drunkard and purse dog.

  She raised the bottle again, self loathing rising up her throat like bile. Evie's hand caught her wrist before the mouth of the bottle could meet her lips. Lonnie allowed the booze to be pried from her clammy fingers without a fight. She'd had quite enough fighting today.

 "Claude Frollo had one daughter and two sons." Evie kicked her feet gently, taking another dainty sip from her cup. She set the bottle down beside her.

 "What does that-"

 "Hush, baby. Don't interrupt me." Evie's gaze iced over briefly and Lonnie quickly bit her tongue. Yes they did all seem to hate being talked over.

 "Claudine was the oldest." The witch continued, back to calm and placating. Lonnie breathed a sigh of relief.  "Quiet for the most part, she was the most bearable of the family. Very religious, a bit too kind hearted, but not naive. His oldest son was named Claude after him - the self centered bastard - so everyone just called him Junior. He spent most of his time in town, trying to barter and steal his way into a meal for the family. New clothes for the winter, new weapons for protection, the usual stuff. Their younger brother, four years younger than Junior, was named Christian. Frollo wasn't a creative man. Everyone just called him Chris. All three of them, along with their piece of shit father, lived on our territory, which means they owed us bi-weekly dues in exchange for protection and mercy." 

 "You charged dues?" Lonnie deadpanned.

 Evie gave a small mischievous grin. "We were royalty. We owned the Isle. You pay dues to a King, right?" 

 "That's…" Ludacris, ridiculous, so unbelievably cocky that it made her head spin, kind of impressive. "Light's sake..."

 "It's wicked, little phoenix." She winked. "It's common practice on the Isle. Of course I spent most of my formative years in a tower, but I remember my mother having to put money aside for Maleficent before the whole birthday incident. And of course Carlos had told me about the due system while I was up there. Told me that he and Jay kept tabs on people who were consistently coming up short, building up debt. When it started to become a problem- it gets disrespectful at a point you know - they would track debtors down and make them pay." 

 "They would…?" She trailed off, unwilling to finish.

 Evie nodded, offering up a knowing glance. "Whatever you're thinking, it's probably worse."

 Images of Jay with his massive muscles flexing as he pinned someone's face into the dirt. Carlos' eyes gleaming and his mouth twisting into that sick smile that made her stomach drop and her head spin and fire run up her spine.

 "Fuck." She whispered.

"He was pretty thorough with his description, but I'll spare you the details," Evie said. "He didn't want me to be blindsided by the brutality of it all, he wanted me to be ready for what would happen. But nothing could have prepared me to watch Claudine Frollo get dragged by her hair into the center of a busy market and beat. Sure I knew it would happen, and yeah I found her stuck up and annoying, but she was still a person. She cried so hard she was choking on her own sobs. It took everything in me not to weep with her, in front of everyone. I probably might have if I wasn't so used to repressing tears. Mother always said it was unbecoming of a lady."

 "The next week when their debt still wasn't paid, it was Junior who had to face the consequences of his father's stubbornness. I think that's the worst part of it all. Frollo had the fucking money, he was just an old mule who thought he was above having to pay a bunch of delinquents. It made me sick to my stomach. Mal had to physically drag me from the hideout to watch this time. I begged her not to make me go. Claudine begged to take Junior's punishment instead. We both might as well have been pleading to a wall. Junior didn't cry, he just screamed. It was worse. Jay was almost twice his size, he couldn't even defend himself. "

 Lonnie's own stomach twisted as she listened. Isle stories were always hard for her to listen to. Whenever she thought things couldn't get worse, they always found a way to do just that. Everything was much more brutal than she had the capability to even comprehend, much less imagine. Her heart always ached afterwards. She may hate the VKs for what they did, but no child deserved to grow up in a place like that.

 "Another week went by with no money, and I finally had to dig my heels into the ground. I refused to watch Christian get hurt over something so benign. He was only a child, only 8 years old, and even though Jay was only 12, he was already so big and strong. It would be like watching a lamb go to slaughter. It wasn't the first time Fight or Yield had been called between me and Mal, but it was the first time I accepted the challenge to fight. I felt so strongly that I was right. And I was so certain with something worth fighting for, I could find some kind of inner strength. Like some sort of power up. That I could reach deep within and claw my way to victory because I fighting for what was right . And oh Lonnie, she kicked my fucking ass . I wasn't weak by any means. As soon as I stepped foot outside of the castle I was on a vigorous training schedule, and even before then my mother enforced exercise to keep me thin and discourage laziness. And I was crafty, I spent years pouring over every combat book that I could get my hands on, I was a master of strategy. Mal was just…better. Always had been. And there was nothing that my moral high ground could do to change that." 

 "She made me tell her as much. Made me apologize for wasting her time, with my face still pushed into the dirty concrete. I had an unsightly bruise on my neck that she didn't even give me time to cover up before we were out of the door." 

 Lonnie frowned. Isle relationship dynamics freaked her out. Whatever fucked dynamic they had with Ben was hard enough to watch, and they'd never hit Ben outside of a training room. At least to her knowledge. She flinched every time Mal would slap Jay, and her stomach turned when Carlos would laugh at it. It all just felt like abuse to her. Ben, Doug, even Jane, they all tried telling her it was something different. Something she couldn't understand yet. Sometimes she felt like the only sane one in this damn castle.

 Evie took another sip from her teacup, her eyebrows furrowing in thought before she spoke. "Carlos and I were always close. When we were really little, he'd sneak out, climb the walls of my tower and crawl into my window to keep me company. He came to me that night, and told me about his first fight with Mal. And his second. Third, fourth, fifth. A string of losses, defeat after defeat, some more devastating than others. I felt my heart sink to my feet. If Carlos, the most ruthless, clever fighter I'd ever met, couldn't beat Mal, what was the point? I still remember what he told me." 

 "He said "If you were the kind to let a little pain and humiliation stop you from winning, Mal would know. And she wouldn't so much as waste her breath on you. She's kinda like the heart of the Isle itself. It'll reward you for fighting, but only if you fight and fight and fight. If you stop fighting, you'll never get what you want." He's always been so damn clever." Her voice grew fond, despite the grim subject matter.

 "He made me realize, Mal didn't push me down so I wouldn't ever think to get back up. She did it so that one day she could push and I wouldn't falter. So I could be unbreakable. I started to Fight every time. Over stupid shit, over shit I believed in with every inch of my being. And she pushed and pushed and pushed. She never went easy on me, always put her all into getting me on the ground. The day I finally pinned her, I felt like a mad woman. I ground her face into the dirt, screamed about how I'd finally won. And she fucking smiled." 

 Evie laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Evil, I love that beautiful maniac. She grinned like the fucking devil. "Say it." She said. "I know you want to, princess." And so I said "Apologize" and she did. I rode that high all day." 

 "How many times before you…" Lonnie frowned. "Y'know, won?"

 "So many." Evie's eyes were so full of pity that it burned. "Too many to count. Nothing that's worth anything comes easy, pretty phoenix. Everything takes something."

 "And in the meantime?" 

 "I did what my leader told me to do." Like it was as simple as that. Like it was easy.

 Lonnie sighed. She almost didn't even want to ask this next question. "What happened to the youngest?" 

 Evie's smile turned bittersweet. "Carlos broke his pinky finger." Lonnie winced. "It never healed correctly. His finger bent at this odd angle, people nicknamed him Crook. The same day, Mal stormed over to Frollo's house and cut off his hand. She said if she didn't have her money in the next three days she'd come back for the other one. We got paid the next day."

 Her eyes practically rolled themselves. Of course it took literally losing an appendage to sway that stupid stubborn fucking bastard. He was probably scared he couldn't jerk off to the Bible and cry anymore.

 Evie laughed again. "Tell me about it."

 "I hope the wound got infected." Lonnie just kept surprising herself tonight. Whatever. She fucking meant it, it wasn't like she'd never wished ill will towards someone before. Some people deserved it.

 She heard Evie shuffling above her, but she didn't bother looking. She was too busy staring at her palms. What were these hands capable of? Could they do what was asked of them? Required of them? Lonnie had always been a little selfish. Bold and fierce? That was her MO. But the selfless and noble thing that Ben pulled off so effortlessly? That wasn't her. It never had been. A selfless Lonnie would have died a martyr for her land and her people. Or sat rotting in a cell next to her parents. As it was, brave, fierce, fearless, selfish Lonnie was sitting in the belly of the beast, scared and weak. Pushed down. One day she could push and I wouldn't falter. If you stop fighting, you'll never get what you want.

  She lifted one of her shaking palms and gently pressed the heel of it into her fresh bruise. The pain was almost grounding.

 She could feel Evie crowding her space, crouching in front of her. When she glanced up to look at her, her gaze was so earnest and warm it hurt. Her curiosity and admiration burned, hotter than a scalding iron. The queen reached out and Evie's long nimble fingers traced over her knuckles, trailing downward until the soft pads of her fingertips were flush with her bruised skin. Fuck. 

 "Fuck." She murmured. 

 "You're so beautiful, little phoenix." Evie mutters, transfixed. Her fingertips do dizzying circles on her skin, burning like embers. It pushes the air out of her lungs. "In every single sense of the word. Evil, I can't wait until the day comes when you reach your full potential. Darling girl." 

 "Please." Lonnie pushes the word past her lips, but the stop that was supposed to follow dies on her tongue.

 "Stubborn little phoenix." Evie leans in, so close Lonnie can feel her breath on her skin. She smells like warm vanilla and cinnamon. She can hear her own heart beating, like the pounding of drums. The witch's lips graze her ear. She tries not to shake.

 "Don't-" 

 "You're shivering." Evie whispers, sounding sly and sweet and intoxicating. "Are you really that frightened?" 

 "Stop." There's no authority in her voice. She doesn't even sound sure to herself. Is she frightened? "Evie." 

 "Lonnie. You don't want me to touch you?" Her name in Evie Grimhilde's mouth was addicting. This was so wrong. So exciting. "Tell me no." She said it like a dare. Like she knew Lonnie couldn't. "Tell me I'm hurting you, and I'll stop. Am I hurting you, baby?" 

 "Yes." 

 "I'm not." 

 "You are." She couldn't keep the whine out of her voice. "My pride. You're hurting my…" 

 When Evie laughs this time it's breathy and teasing. It grinds her brain to a screeching halt. "Oh is that all, darling?" She whispers. "Let it go. You don't need it." 

 "But-"

 "Do not interrupt me." Fuck. Her mouth snapped shut like it was on a hinge. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. "You don't need your pride now. It's not built up right, doesn't serve the purpose it needs to. It needs to go. That's what we're here for. Trust me, pretty phoenix, when we knock it down we're going to build it back so much stronger. You don't need your pride, Li Lonnie. You just need to listen. Just for a while." 

 "Light." She whispers, breathless and strained. Her fingertips were tingling. She's trying, desperately, to get her stupid brain to work. To conjure the words to tell her that her pride was all she had left, that they had taken everything else, that she couldn't possibly give this up too. She was trying to remind herself of the fact too.

 "No, baby." For a single, terrifying, beautiful second it seemed like Evie would kiss her. Her lips were hovering over Lonnie's, so close she could feel her breath tickle her cupid's bow. Then all too soon Evie leaned back, taking her scorching touch with her and making Lonnie whine all over again. "Not light. Evil." She ran a perfect hand through Lonnie's hair, pausing to scratch lightly at her scalp before she stood.

 "Where are you…?" 

 "I'm taking the bottle with me." The queen grabbed the liquor and tucked it under her arm. "You can have it back tomorrow. Enjoy your fruit, baby. And do get some rest. You have a big day tomorrow." 

 She was gone as quickly and quietly as she came. Lonnie dragged her fruit bowl closer to her, trying to ignore the way her skin was alight with flames. She absently traced her bruise with her fingertips. They felt nothing like Evie's. She shoved a piece of kiwi in her mouth so she wouldn't whine again.

 What would she have done if Evie had kissed her? Would she push her away, or would she kiss her back. Either choice would surely have terrifying consequences. What if she froze up and didn't respond at all? Would the villain stop? Or would she press on, hands roaming her body, pulling a reaction out of her with practiced ease and teasing words. Would she call her baby in that breathy sigh that she did? Would Lonnie like that?

 She groaned in frustration, pushing her hands up into her hair, scratching at her scalp. Fuck she hated them. She hated Evie. Fuck.

 Her fingers weren't numb with cold anymore. She almost wished they were. Almost.

Chapter Text

Carlos' feet pounded against the ground, the damp earth giving way under his weight, his breath caught in his throat. Behind him he could hear them scrambling. He could feel their heavy careless footsteps shaking the terrain, disturbing the forest. Not at all like his own gait, quick and light. He had a love-hate relationship with this forest, it was dark and creepy - absolutely crawling with thorny vines, feral creatures and wild dogs. Carlos hated dogs. But these woods kept him safe. No one else would explore it like Carlos, not off the path, not even Gaston's kids would venture too far off. He was really regretting not exploring every inch of the stupid place right now as he cut through bushes, jumped over roots and narrowly avoided tree after tree. They were venturing outside of his area of familiarity now, he didn't even know where he was going anymore. But he couldn't slow down. He couldn't fall. He had to run. 

  Run run run or else-

 "You can't run forever, DeVil!" Rodney Ratcliffe's stupid smarmy voice rang out into the open air, sounding much too close for comfort. Fuck. 

 Carlos had always been fast. He was small, flexible, and agile. He had no chance of overpowering someone, he had to be smart and he had to be fast or he'd be dead. 

 The problem was that Rodney, unlike his piece of shit father, was thin and active. He was quick. Not quicker than Carlos, but quick enough to keep pace, and as Carlos was quickly learning, the jerk had way more endurance than he expected when he was determined. 

 He was also two full years older than Carlos, and relentless as all hell. This was the second week of his endless plight to make Carlos’ life as miserable as possible. Him and his equally douchey group of friends would chase him around the markets and across the school yard for sport. It was always four to six of them ganging up against him, whooping and hollering like lost boys. Said they wanted to catch a wild dog.

 This wasn't the first time the chase would extend to the woods, usually his speed and knowledge of the terrain meant he would disappear in minutes, and Rodney's gang would quickly grow bored. Today wasn't like that - today Carlos was really really tired. His mother had one of her episodes late into the night, and he had to stay up to clean and soothe and fetch her cigarettes and do whatever else she could snap her boney fingers at him for. Even after she finally passed out, Carlos slept horribly. In her hazy rage, she'd thrown a wine glass at his feet, and he had to dress the cut on his ankle. Plus the whole house smelled like cigarette smoke and he hated the smell of cigarettes. It was sour and bitter, like rotting wood.

  He skipped school. The only reason he left the house in the first place was to go out and find a new glass to replace the one she broke, so she wouldn't get mad it was missing when she had her wits about her again. And of course Rodney had to be at the market at that same time. 

 He had the rottenest luck.

 Rodney and his friends were loud. They hooted and whistled as they chased him, their boots making hearty thuds against the earth. It sounded like a pack of dogs closing in on him. He fucking hated dogs. 

  I'm not gonna make it. He realized, frustrated tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he ran. He was already slowing down, when it seemed the older boys’ stamina was endless. Usually he would've been long gone by now, but today there were so many of them and they just weren't quitting. His ankle burned, his cut still new and aching. His limbs were heavy with exhaustion and sore with use. He was going to get caught. He was going to-

 “Fuck!” He cried. Rodney's palm drove wickedly into his back, sending him tumbling as his momentum made him stumble over his own two feet. He barely braced his fall with his palms, narrowly avoiding a face full of dirt and leaves. “Leave me alone.” 

 “Well lookie here boys we finally snared ourself a mutt.” Rodney grinned, baring his teeth.

 “This one's scrawny.” One of the other boys, Jason probably. “Not good for much.” 

 “I know a few people who eat dogs.” Said another - Brenton. “We could sell him off to the highest bidder.” 

 “I didn't do anything to you.” Carlos pleaded, hating the waver in his voice. It wasn't fair. He hadn't done anything. He never did anything. “Please leave me alone.” 

 “Hey now gentlemen, we're not savages.” Rodney's eyes glinted with malice. “Dogs are man's best friend. Some of the finest entertainment around. I think this one is meant for show.” 

 “Why don't you roll over DeVil?” Jason taunted.

 “No, let's see him shake.” Brenton said.

 “This dog's still wild.” Rodney said. “It's stupid. We can't confuse it, we have to start off simple.” His eyes narrowed, pinning Carlos to the ground with his glare. “Bark.”

 His heart sank. “You can't be…Rodney c'mon please man, I haven't done anything. Please just let me go.” 

 “I will. If you bark like a good mutt, I'll let you up. Let you run off with your tail between your legs.” His friends laughed, but Rodney was still just staring at him. Daring him to disobey him, to challenge his authority

 “I can't.” His voice was shaking. He was shaking.

 “You will. Bark, DeVil.” He slams his foot into Carlos’ chest, robbing his lungs of air. He coughs and groans, everything in him fighting back tears. He couldn't cry in front of these boys. “Bark.” 

 The noise that escapes Carlos’ mouth is a pathetic little warble, vaguely akin to the sound a wounded dog makes. Rodney raises a brow, thoroughly unimpressed and Carlos has to tamper down a whimper. Fuck he hated the Ratcliffe bloodline. He hated being so small and weak and pathetic. He tries again, closing his eyes and forcing an animalistic sound from his mouth. He sounded like a small frightened dog.

 The following laughter felt like a punch to the gut. Shame so thick he was choking on it settled in his stomach, frustrated and scared tears streaming down his face. 

 “Good boy.” Rodney's foot left his chest, and he immediately scrambled back, recoiling like the wounded animal he was. Rodney was smiling, satisfied with finally getting what he wanted.“Evil's sake, you are fucking pathetic, you know that? Stupid mutt.”

 Carlos watched them go, hunched in on himself and shaking. He wished he could say something - anything- to them. Defend himself without cowering at the thought of them circling back. It was like 7 to one, and every single one of those boys was bigger than him. Stronger. 

 He wiped at his tears, wanting to howl like the dog they said he was. Stupid Carlos. Stupid, weak, pathetic Carlos DeVil - small and easy to kick around.

 He clenched his jaw as he pushed himself off the ground, starting his trek home. Another familiar feeling was bubbling up, swirling with the heavy shame and making his blood rush. White hot infectious rage. 

—---

 All things considered, Mal kept him pretty busy. He didn't mind, he was used to being busy - he'd been plenty busy around his mother's house, cleaning until his knuckles bled and his muscles ached. Now that he took orders from a woman with her sanity intact, he was doing much more productive things with his time. 

 Notably making other people's knuckles bleed.

 His role didn't quite have a name. Jay was the enforcer, Mal was the leader, and Carlos was whatever they needed him to be. He was an inventor, collecting scraps and machinery from across the Isle, pouring over blueprints and half-baked sketches to produce new and useful technology. He was a spy, using his small frame and quick feet to blend in with a crowd, listen in on conversations, take people by surprise. 

 And he was an assassin, because as violent as Jay could get he really didn't like having to kill people and Carlos had no such hang ups. When Jay breaking a bone or tearing a ligament no longer got the job done, Carlos did the dirty work. People were a lot like machines - every machine was different, but they could all be broken down in pretty much the same way. 

 Being the jack of all trades like that left him with very little downtime. He was an accessory to Mal's empire, and he was a loyal one at that - he was nothing before she took him in and as mean as she was, she took good care of what's hers. What little free time he did have needed to be used wisely. Most of it was dedicated to scaling Evie's tower to keep her company. Some of it was alloted towards traversing the Isle with Jay on his heels to collect supplies and cause some chaos - he was much less annoying when he wasn't acting like a fuck boy creep and Carlos was starting to regrettably enjoy his company.

 Not today. Today he had a special objective in mind.

 As much as he hated his fucking mother, she had taught him a few useful things. Namely how to use a bear trap. Once he'd gotten his hands on one - Gaston's brats were easy to buy off - it took him no time at all to set it up slightly off the path in the woods and cover it up with leaves and branches. From there it was the simple matter of swiping that stupid hat off of Rodney Ratcliffe's head and running just slow enough for the idiot to be able to follow him.

 It had to be his hat, because that hat once belonged to his father, and so Rodney loved that hat. He loved it so much he didn't think about how it was practically useless for anyone else, and there was no reason for Carlos to want the damn thing. He loved it so much that he didn't notice how Carlos was taking him through a specific distinctly familiar route, even though he could have ducked behind so many buildings or cut through so many alleyways. He loved that ugly fucking hat so much that he didn't seem to remember that he hadn't been able to catch up with Carlos for years now. If you weren't careful, love could make you stupid. Carlos was careful. Rodney Ratcliffe was the stupidest mother fucker alive.

 “DeVil!” Rodney yelled into the open air, so blinded by rage that he was barely looking where he was going. He stumbled over his own feet as he turned a corner, almost falling on his face. Sloppy. “DeVil gimme my shit!” 

 “Come get it!” He hollered, waving the hat tauntingly before disappearing behind a tree.

 “I'll get you for this, you dumb mutt! You think because you run with Mal now that means you're hot shit? Lemme tell you, it doesn't-” Metal clicking, the sickening squelch of blades driving into tender flesh and a blood curdling scream. It worked.

 It actually fucking worked.

  What a dumbass. 

 “I wouldn't scream so loud if I was you.” Carlos couldn't help but grin, stepping out from behind his tree to take in the scene. Rodney was collapsed on the ground, doubled over screaming and clutching his leg. The trap had closed right over the meaty part of his calf, which was gushing blood around the rusty metal. The trap was tied off with a thick chain to a nearby tree that was older than both of them combined. It was a sturdy tree. Rodney wasn't going anywhere. “Wild dogs live out here, you know? You might attract them.” 

 “Fuck.” Rodney groaned, his voice high and desperate. “Fuck fuck fuck.” 

 “Yeah, that looks like it hurts.” Carlos bent over to examine the wound, cocking his head to the side. Rodney made a wild swipe at his head and he took a step back, tutting to himself. “It's not very smart to attack the only person who can let you out.” 

 Ratcliffe's eyes widened as if the realization had only just come to him. It probably had. Fear did funny things to the mind - fear breaks the machine.

 “Carlos, man,” Rodney pleads. “You gotta let me go. It hurts. It hurts man - fuck.” 

 “It's Carlos now?” Carlos asks, eyebrows raised. “You know what, Rodney? I don't think I've ever heard you say my name before. It was always DeVil or dog-” 

 “Wait-”

 “Dumb mutt-” 

 “C’mon man-” 

 “Stupid bitch-” 

 “I didn't mean that-” 

 “Don't bother.” Carlos snaps, his eyes flashing, a familiar wave of anger climbing up his back. He frowns. Takes a deep breath. Smiles again. “I get it. I didn't understand back then, but I get it now. Dogs, they're lowly beasts. Smart enough to beg and bark, but that's about it. Easily overpowered, easily domesticated, easily influenced. Often in chains. Hey Rodney, which one of us is in chains?” 

 Realization flickers deep in Ratcliffe's eyes. Fear sets in heavier than before, swirling with shame. Carlos drinks up the expression like a man dying of dehydration. It's fucking delicious.

 “Me.” Rodney says, practically running his words together in his effort to appease him. “Me, I'm the dog. I'm the dog. Look, Carlos I'm sorry, I never should have fucked with you like that-” 

 “You shouldn't have.” Carlos says simply. He studies Rodney's face, the slim features and greasy hair, the tears and the terrified look in his eyes. This was the mother fucker who tormented him just three years ago. Damn near every day, this is the person he would scale walls and duck through alleys to avoid. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. And then he remembers that he's the one in charge this time, and so he does. He laughs like a madman. He probably sounds as crazy as his mother. Rodney probably thinks he's actually gone off the deep end. That makes him laugh harder.

 “I'll let you go if you ask me nicely.” He says after his laughter dies down, glancing over the wound again. “May want to hurry up. That could get infected.”

 Rodney blinks away tears, looking up at Carlos like he's a total stranger. This version of him really is, he muses. Rodney never tried to chase this version of him through the woods. “Please-”

 “Don't be a fucking dumbass, Ratcliffe.” He scoffs. “That's not how dogs ask. Bark.” 

 And isn't that look on his face just fucking priceless. He wants to snap a picture on one of those big fancy cameras they had in Auradon. He wants to frame it, or stick it to the fridge in their hideout. He wonders if this is what he looked like back then, fingers clutching dirt and eyes squeezed shut in shame. How pathetic.

 Rodney doesn't hesitate for long - can't really afford to. He lets out a warbling, shaky sound that could somewhat resemble a bark.

 “If you're not gonna even try, I can leave.” Carlos says, chuckling. He can't help it. It's just so fucking funny.

 “No!” Rodney cries desperately. “No no no, please don't.”

 Carlos raises an eyebrow. And Rodney barks. It's loud and clear, if not a little pitchy. When Carlos doesn't immediately move to free him, he does it again. And again. And again. He barks like he's calling out for someone. With tears running down his face and blood staining his pant leg a damning dark brown, he barks like his life depends on it. He sounds like one of those big dogs does when it's faced with a force much bigger than it can manage. When scaring the other animal away is its only chance of survival.

 Distantly Carlos hears howling. His grin returns even bigger than ever. Rodney hears it too. His eyes widen to the size of saucers.

 “That's my cue.” Carlos rolls his shoulders, more for show than anything else. He feels plenty loose. He feels like he can run a marathon.

 “Wait. Waitwaitwait, what are you talking about?” 

 “I was wrong earlier, Rodney.” Carlos says instead of answering him. “About what dogs do. I said all they do is beg and bark, but that's not really true is it? One thing I learned about dogs? They're almost always hungry. They hunt. They eat . ” 

 “Carlos man please! Please don't leave me.” 

 Carlos looks in Rodney's eyes one last time, his own hardening over finally. As funny as this was, as amused as he felt- this was still about one thing and one thing only. Justice. “It's a dog eat dog world, Rodney.” 

 He runs then. He runs so fast it feels like he's flying, like his feet are barely touching the ground. He runs so fast he can't make out his surroundings except for blurs and colors. He doesn't need to. He knows these woods like the back of his hand. He can't outrun Rodney's pleading, the boy is practically screeching in his desperation as he realizes he's about to die. It's music to his fucking ears.

—---

 Jay stops in his tracks as soon as Carlos touches him. It's nothing forceful, just a barely there feather-light grazing of his fingertips along his chiseled biceps and the thief calmly but firmly halts like he's met a wall. And as far as Jay was concerned, he had. No matter how large or impressive he would get, Jay would always remain putty in Carlos’ calloused hands. That was a simple truth of life, that's how it had always been - that is how the world works.

 “Who's that for?” Carlos asked. Jay was holding a plastic tray in his hands. Plain oatmeal - gross and watery - and two hard boiled eggs with a bottle of water. It was a standard prison meal, he knew that much. He also knew there were only two people down in the dungeon that Jay - or any of them for that matter - would bother personally delivering meals to. And Carlos had been meaning to pay one a visit.

 His partner in crime of many years cracked a smile. Despite his brash and reckless nature, Jay was one of the smartest mother fuckers he knew. He was so in tune with people's emotions that most of the time he could get a read on someone after only one interaction. It was a pretty damn useful skill.  It's what allowed him to be such a manipulative jackass to anyone he damn well pleased and still have a majority of the population fawn over him. It's what allowed him to always read Carlos’ mind. 

 “Charming.” He answered, already offering the tray. Carlos shoved the chocolate bar in his hand - rich, decadent, fancy shit from Charmiane and the whole reason he even ventured into the kitchen in the first place- into his pocket. Jay's smile only grew when Carlos took the tray, baring his teeth in that jackal-like wild grin that Carlos always teased him for and loved more than he'd ever admit.

 “Perfect.” Carlos smirked in return, sharing a look with his taller boyfriend. Jay cocked his head to the side, studying his face, delighting in what he found. 

 “Oh, someone is gonna have fun.” The thief bit his tongue as he grinned, an annoying fuckboy habit from the Isle he never dropped, and one that always made him want to kiss his boyfriend until he couldn't breathe.

 As luck would have it he only needed one hand to hold the tray. With the other he grabbed a handful of Jay's shirt collar, dragging him down into a searing kiss that the other boy happily returned. “Most definitely.” He huffed as he pulled back, their lips only centimeters apart. “And it won't be Chad Charming.” Carlos pushed Jay away from him with an open palm against his stupidly buff chest and the dramatic asshole stumbled back like he was made of paper and pixie dust. He couldn't help but laugh. For such a large man, Jay unironically and unashamedly enjoyed being pushed around and manhandled by the right people. Fortunately Carlos was all too happy to oblige.

 “Visit the rose if you want.” He said. “It's been too long since I've paid a visit to our boy in blue.” 

  Jay laughed - it was harsh and beautiful and it made Carlos want to kiss him again. “Alright, anything you want, ‘Los. Just don't have too much fun. We need him breathing.” 

 “I'll show some restraint.” He was already walking through the door, a familiar pep in his step. “You can admire my work tomorrow.” 

 He barely heard the responding ‘can't wait’ as he turned the corner. He had an objective in mind.

 Before Chadwick Charming and Audria Rose were put in their neighboring cells, a spell was cast on the rooms to send live video footage to Evie's mirror. 24 hour surveillance, rewindable and rewatchable, all with no pesky things like cameras that could be tampered with, broken, or covered up by the former monarchs. The footage had several purposes, most notably keeping track of exactly what any one of them  said to the two idiots, that way they didn't contradict each other or deviate too far from the plan. It was also a great tool for them to gauge how what they said affected the former royal’s mental state, so they could apply more or less pressure accordingly. Too little and they'd never do what they wanted, too much and they'd be too far gone to be useful. 

 And of course, because Carlos was a sadistic bastard he found an odd fascination in just watching the tapes. 

 Audrey had always been the more interesting watch. She would scream and pace and rant herself in circles before breaking down. She'd pull at her matting hair, throw straw at the walls, punch her cot, run in place, scream into the void. The cells were completely soundproof of course. Chad and Audrey couldn't actually know how close together they were, no matter how amusing their turmoil would be. It would shatter their illusion of helplessness. Make them feel less alone. That would ruin everything.

 He did watch Chad's footage occasionally, if he got bored enough. He'd sit with a cup of tea and watch the former crown prince of Charmaine stare blankly at a wall, swaddled in the lone blanket they'd allowed him, tears streaming slowly down his pretty perfect face, clutching at his chest like he could pull out his own heart if he pulled hard enough. Unlike his fiery counterpart, he couldn't seem to find it in himself to do much of anything else. No pacing, no push-ups, no ranting or raving. Just staring, sometimes mumbling, mostly crying.

 So really, Carlos knew exactly what to expect when he walked in. But he wanted to see if Charming was capable of something else - adapting.

 He waved to the open air with a small lazy smile - he knew one or more of his partners would pour over this footage later, he could at least indulge in a bit of showmanship- before his eyes landed on Chad Charming, sat on top of his cot, facing the corner, wrapped in the blanket he clung to like a lifeline and shivering. He didn't startle or turn when the door opened. Didn't make a sound. But he did freeze - seized up like his lack of movement could make Carlos disappear. To be fair he probably didn't know it was Carlos, but he had to know it was one of them. Charming always did know how to read a room.

 He took his time crossing the cell, letting his boots land heavy beneath him and his clothes make obnoxious swishing sounds against themselves. He wasn't too dressed up. Didn't need to be when he wasn't leaving the castle, he didn't need fancy clothes to feel like a king. It was freezing cold in the dungeon, but his years on the Isle had made him pretty much invulnerable to it. He'd done his time. In the center of the room he stopped, crouching down and letting the tray drop from a few inches off the ground. It made a loud clattering sound against the stone, some of the watery oatmeal splashing over the side of its bowl. Chad flinched. 

 “You don't know how to greet your fucking superiors?” And now he's smiling proper, something wild and wicked and long asleep stirring awake inside of him. He seldom got to play with his food anymore. Chad's head snapped around like a puppet on a string. It was almost comical how wide his eyes were, how rapidly his chest rose and fell. He was so fucking scared. Carlos drank up the fear as he stalked forward. Charming just sat there frozen like a dumb cloth-wrapped deer in headlights. Soft green eyes followed his every step, but the man himself seemed to be stuck in place. No fight or flight response. Freeze. How counterproductive. He'd have to be trained out of that later. That was still a future problem.

 “Well?” He said, directly in front of the former prince, leering down at him. 

 Charming finally jumped into action, dropping his blanket and muttering half hearted apologies. He stumbled to his feet with visible difficulty, legs shaking like a newborn giraffe, and Carlos couldn't help but chuckle. Auradonians always made it so easy.

 There was no crack from Charming's jaw when Carlos’ elbow connected with it despite the force he used - he had promised to have some restraint after all. Instead his head snapped to the side, and he was rewarded with a grunt of surprise followed by a low pitiful whine. It was a happy consolation prize. The blond dropped like a sack of potatoes, collapsing back in on himself like a rag doll while blood trailed out of the corner of his mouth. The idiot probably bit his tongue. 

 “Has it been that long?” He could hear the calm amusement in his own voice. His skin was itching with the power he held, seeing the pretty blond bleed was intoxicating. Patience , he reminded himself. Pace yourself. “You been locked up so long you suddenly think it's proper to stand when royalty enters a room?” 

 Charming was already rectifying his mistake, forearms shaking as he pushed himself up in a tentative kneel. He stared at the spot next to Carlos’ shoe, wiping at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

 “What, you don't think I'm a real royal?” He goaded. “Is that it?”

 “No.” Charming's voice was shaky and hoarse from lack of use. Outside of his visits with the other three, Chad barely used his voice. “That's not it…I don't think that.”

 Which was a lie. And Chad was a shit liar. This version of him was, anyway. The one who paraded around Charmaine in powder blue was a pretty decent liar when it came down to it. That Chad was semi-respectable in that regard. Not the one that was desperately trying to scrounge around for what Carlos wants to hear. Carlos wants to kick him in the jaw for it. Slam it into the stone until it cracks and shatters under his hands. Instead he raises an eyebrow.

 “No?” It's less of a question and more of a challenge. “Are you sure? Just running through the options here, but to me it seems either the you don't think I'm royalty, you think we're somehow equals, or you're just fucking braindead.” He stares harder, tries to get Charming to look him in the face. He doesn't, eyes fixed firmly to the floor. “Are you braindead, Chad?”

 “No.” Ah, there it was. The last remnants of contempt and indignation left in the former prince. Carlos nodded. It was good that Charming still had some fight in him. Not enough to rebel. Just enough to stay sane. Enough to keep him interesting.

 “So you think we're equals.” It wasn't a question. He paused, leaving room for an objection that didn't come. Charming wasn't as dumb as he seemed, but he still had a lot to learn. Not dumb, just stupid as shit. “If you think we're anything close to equals, that means you still think you're royalty. You think you're still a prince, Charming?” 

 Chad shook his head, his eyes stubbornly glued to the ground. His hand itched with the urge to grab his chin and force it up. “I know I'm not a prince anymore.” When Chad spoke, his voice held none of the bitterness Carlos expected. Just resignation and a bit of wistfulness. “I'm just not.” 

 “And just like that, we've exhausted all our options.” Carlos threw up his hands, feigning confusion. “Which means somewhere along the way you lied to me. Unless you have some magical fourth option I haven't thought to consider. Do you?”

 “I think,” Chad finally raised his eyes to meet Carlos’. They were wet and glistening with unshed tears, forest green and aching with hurt. It was unfairly attractive, just as beautiful as he imagined. “That if you want to beat me, you should just fucking do it and get it over with. We both know that's why you came down here.” 

 And Carlos smirked. Because he just loved taking snarky brats apart like complex machinery- begging to be turned to scraps and rebuilt into something bigger and better. Especially ones as sensitive and pretty as this one. He finally gave into the urge to kick the shit out of Charming, feeling satisfaction pool deep in his gut as his heavy leather boot connected with Chad's vulnerable gut and the blond doubled over with an agonized groan. He watched the man writhe at his feet, that satisfaction growing with every low hiss and muttered curse. Sometimes he really really loved his job. He crouched down, grabbing a handful of blond curls and yanking Chad's head up, forcing eye contact once again. He had tears running down his face in two twin rivers. Carlos wet his lips.

 “You wanna know what I think, Chadwick?” He said lowly. Despite his tone he felt almost giddy going in for the kill like this. It never failed to get his heart pumping. “I think I can do whatever the fuck I want to do, and you can't do shit about it. I think it drives you fucking crazy that you don't have the power to stop me anymore. I think the realization is creeping up on you that you never had the power in the first place, and now that you're stuck down here shivering in the dark and faced with reality, all you can do is stare at the walls because you can't cope.”

 “Please-” Chad whined, pitifully grasping at the fingers in his hair. Carlos twisted, just because he could. Just to hear Charming gasp again, to watch more pretty tears fall down gaunt cheeks. Charming seemed to take this as command, clasping his hands together in his lap with another whine. He laughed - even better.

 “Don't fucking talk over me, bitch.” There was no real bite. Not yet. He was too busy driving the nail into the coffin to be upset about Charming's pitiful attempt to overspeak him. “Your life is in my hands, for me to do whatever I damn well please and that scares you shitless doesn't it? That's what you cry into your blankie about at night? Or maybe it's the fact that you know deep down that you were a terrible prince to begin with. That you're just as useful to your people locked up in this cell than you ever were parading around Auradon sucking your own dick.” 

 “I-” 

 Another cruel twist of his hand, another pained gasp. Auradonians had terrible self preservation skills. “We burned a city in Charmaine yesterday.” They did not. The last burning was over a week ago, with very few casualties. The city got a warning a full two days before it went up in flames, the message they were trying to send was more symbolic than anything else. All details he decided to neglect at the moment. “What are you gonna do about it, Chadwick Charming? The man who lit the match is right here. I'm right in front of your face, mocking you. Doesn't that piss you off? What are you going to do to me?”

 He leaned in closer, so close that his lips grazed the shell of Charming's ear. His skin was hot to the touch, burning red with shame. “You're not gonna do shit, are you? I bet your fingers are itching to make a fist and swing. I bet you think about it all the time. Do you wanna know what I did before that village went up in smoke?” 

 “No.” A desperate whine, pushed through a sob. It was music to his ears. Desperate sounded beautiful on him. It looked even better. Chad couldn't even look him in the face, despite quite literally being forced to stare upwards. He had his eyes squeezed shut, tears running freely down his face that he thought he wasn't allowed to wipe away. His hands sat obediently in his lap. The picture was sinful.

 “There was a quaint little bookstore on top of a hill.” He whispered. “They had your picture in their window. Real big too. They must've been real proud of you. Must've been someone from the half of the Charmainian population who doesn't think you're six feet underground right now. I went inside, I asked for the owner, and when they actually had the nerve to show face, I dragged them by their hair and shoved them down that hill. Tumbled like Jack and Jill. I beat them for treason. And I ordered that bookstore to be torn down.” He didn't. He wouldn't, he didn't believe it was right to purge knowledge from an entire population. Lack of proper education is what got Auradon into this mess in the first place. Revising their school system was proving a massive pain in the ass. He'd really just smashed their windows and scorched the picture as a warning. Even that was a full three days before the burning - he wanted the family to have time to move the books. “I wonder, d'you think anyone else will go around displaying your face, or do you think the lesson stuck this time?”

 “Carlos please stop.” Carlos’ smile dropped, a scowl forming in its wake. Charming cried on, oblivious. “You proved your point - please I can't - I'm not a prince okay. Not a-” 

 Carlos used his vice grip on Chad's hair to pull him downward, slamming his stupid handsome face down into his knee. Still no crack. Such a shame. He repeated the movement again, listening to the man scream with no small amount of satisfaction, all the while his fingers never let up their grip in his honey blond curls. When he lifted the blond's head again, his scowl turned up at the edges, a parody of a smile. Chad was bleeding, crimson red rivers trailing from his nose and mouth. He may not have broken his jaw, but he had succeeded in splitting the idiot's lip. It made the picture before him even more beautiful to behold. 

 Both their chests were heaving. Chad's from barely contained sobs and fresh blossoming pain. Carlos’ from the power coursing through his veins and the adrenaline rushing to his head.

 “Listen to me Charming.” He said over the low whimpering coming from his prey. He spoke calmly despite the bubbling anger lapping at his chest.  “And listen to me very carefully because I will not be kind enough to repeat myself. If I hear you call me anything other than my title again, if I hear you utter my name like we're fucking equals one more fucking time, I will muzzle you like the dog you are, and you will not speak again for a very very long time. You will forget what your voice sounds like. You will grow so accustomed to the weight of leather and metal wrapped around your face that when it finally comes off, you will feel like your head may float off your body without it. You will wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, tossing and turning as you search for a comfort that is no longer there, and then you will beg for it back. You will be more beast than Adam ever was. Disrespect me again, and I will break you like a brittle twig in the winter snow, do you hear me Charming? Do you understand what I'm saying to you?”

 Chad went limp in his grasp, making a labored effort to breathe evenly. He fought his whimpering and gasping down into silent tears, eyebrows knit in concentration. It was impressive for someone like Charming to be able to self regulate so quickly and efficiently and so Carlos let him have some time. It was important early on to enforce and encourage preferred behaviors. Training was a very delicate thing. When Chad opened his eyes again they were red rimmed and tired, and Carlos had already carefully washed away any remnants of pride from his own gaze.

 “Yes, Your Majesty.” He said as evenly as his tear slick voice would allow him to. “I understand. I apologize for speaking out of turn. It won't happen again.” 

  What's that saying about old dogs and new tricks? 

  Carlos hummed, finally letting go of the blond's hair and immediately missing the feeling of it between his fingers. Charming curled in on himself like a pill bug, forehead pressed into his cot, hair falling over his face, sniffling softly. He looked pathetic. And yet.

 Carlos swallowed a groan, rolling his eyes. Stupid fucking Auradon churning out perfect pathetic men that just begged to be ruined and rebuilt. Stupid Carlos for his love of rebuilding. He briefly considers stomping Charming's lights out and being done with the whole thing.

 He hadn't even considered keeping the sack of sass and curls until Jay opened up his fucking mouth a week ago. It was one of those nights where it was just the four of them sharing a bed, with Ben off with Jane and Doug in their private suite for the night instead of sandwiched in between the four of them. Which was fine. They needed time to plot.

 “Alright so pink panther and little boy blue.” Jay said, leaning against the headboard and tossing one of his beloved rings back and forth from one hand to the other. “I know we're keeping them alive, but are we like keeping them?” 

 “No way in hell.” Carlos said immediately, rolling his eyes so hard he was sure they'd sprain.

 “I was actually wondering the same thing.” Evie said. She had on one of those strange looking peeling face masks she loved so much, but she was still as radiant as ever. “It'd be a shame letting a prize like Audria Rose go to waste.” 

 “They're for sure a package deal though.” Jay pointed out.

 “Oh for sure.” Evie nodded. “They've been friends since they were children, we can't train a lifetime of loyalty out of them.” 

 “Well, we could.” The Agraben mused and Evie giggled her agreement. “But it would take way more time than it's worth.” 

 “I cannot believe you two are actually entertaining this idea.” He deadpanned, eyes flitting back and forth between his two amorous lovers. His pretty girl and his gorgeous boy, the spoiled princess and clever idiot he'd usually be ready to give any and everything to. For as much as he loved them, he really did not understand them sometimes. “Are you hearing yourselves?”

 “Oh please, ‘Los, like you don't think Chad is pretty.” Evie poked him playfully with a ruby painted nail and he couldn't help but snort. 

 “I think he made you cry.” He said instead of conceding that, yes he did think Chad was pretty because he had eyes . That didn't mean he wanted to deal with his mouth or have him warm his bed. This conversation was starting to grow dangerous. Whenever Jay or Evie as individuals wanted something, they usually got it. They were that perfectly lethal mix of beautiful and brilliant. Whatever they couldn't do themselves, they could most certainly get someone else to do it for them. Whenever the two of them both wanted something? It was as good as theirs. And Carlos had never been good at telling them no.

 “That was years ago.” Evie waved a hand, clearly unbothered by the memory. “When we were still naive little kids fresh off the Isle. It was a much needed wake up call. Anyway he's paying his penance for it as we speak. That's why he gets to stick his adorable head of blond hair between his knees and cry in a dark cell while our loyal little birdies snuggle up on a four poster bed.” 

 He opened his mouth to rebuttal, but Jay was crawling over to him, a familiar gleam in his eyes. He was excited, wickedly so, and Carlos could tell just by looking at him he had so many nasty, evil, manipulative thoughts cooking up in his brain. It was enough to make his own eyes soften a bit. Evil, he loved this moron. Jay snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him in close, leaning in as he spoke. He was wearing a wife beater and his skin was warm to the touch, alive with adrenaline. It was extremely enticing. The bastard. 

 “Forget the people they were, ‘Los. Those people are as good as dead.” Jay's warm hand rested heavy on his chest. “We killed them. Focus on who they're becoming. Who they can be. Think - when you watch them in their cells, what do you see?”

 Carlos snorted again, recalling the images of a desperately pacing Audrey and a silently crying Chad. “Two empty shells.” 

 “Two blank canvases.” Jay said, slinking behind him to rub his shoulders. Carlos rolled his eyes, allowing the manipulative asshole to pull him in close until their bodies were flush with one another. He liked to be in charge yes, but Jay was also just fucking huge and warm and he was only fucking human. He could be cradled sometimes too. When Jay spoke again, he was dangerously close to Carlos’ ear. “Two very moldable, pliable, suggestable blocks of clay. So grateful for their freedom, so relieved to still have their lives and their sanity and each other. So terrified to displease us and lose it all again. We pull a couple strings, reinforce a couple habits and we have two adoring and perfectly trained dogs.” 

 “Two very loyal dogs.” Evie said, laying herself across his lap. He couldn't help but glance at where her silky pajama top rode up her torso. He only had so much resolve, and his lovers were dirty cheats who were very good at what they did. She peered up at him with a coy smile, making little paws with her hands. “Very pretty dogs. Dogs that can bark louder than little birdies chirp.” 

 “The birds are fine.” Carlos’ voice still managed to keep his firmness despite his quickly crumbling resolve. His poker face was pretty damn good from all the years of practice. “We're training them well, and they're taking to it just fine. Doug is a little slow to pick up, but we knew that from the beginning. Jane has always been a nasty little thing, and with Adam dead Ben is embracing his wicked ways more and more every day. They don't need help from two silver spoon fed whiney bitches. If you want a fierce pet so badly, you can wait. If we get Lonnie-” 

 “ When we get Lonnie.” Jay cut in. “She's as good as ours. Let her play freedom fighter for a little while longer, we can collect her in a bit. Patience is a virtue and all that.” 

 “She's stubborn.” Carlos couldn't help but counter despite how badly he wanted Jay to be right. Lonnie was a prize they'd had their eyes on for a while now. “She may choose to die.” 

 “Her stubbornness is exactly why she won't.” Jay chuckled. It was mean and deep, and it made Carlos’ fingers twitch with the urge to grab the thief by the neck of that stupid wife beater and ravage him. “She's gonna try to play hero for the ‘sake of her people’ and she'll end up falling for us within the first week. I know her type.” 

 “Just fierce enough.” Evie hummed, stretching her arms out over her head. “Brimming with potential. Just like the wilting rose in our dungeon.” 

 “Yeah, except Lonnie treated us like people back when she didn't have to, unlike the two sad husks you two want to warm our bed.” Carlos shot a look to their leader, who was being suspiciously silent through this whole affair. “Mal help me out.” 

 “I have a certain fondness for Audrey.” The fae mused, brows knit in consideration. The fucking traitor. “She's cunning, vindictive, petty and manipulative with a pretty smile. Exactly my taste in women.” She winked at Evie and she giggled, absolutely delighted. “The way she goes about things is sloppy at best, but that's nothing some good old fashioned classical conditioning won't fix. She's obviously got something evil in her. And Charming is admittedly smarter than he looks. That clueless airhead persona was just for his brand.” 

 “One of these days I'm going to hunt down his PR team and have them shot in the street.” Jay said, suddenly genuinely annoyed. Evie shot him a look and Carlos could only roll his eyes in response. Jay always picked the strangest passion projects. “That idiot is lucky I bothered talking to him at tourney practice or I wouldn't think he was worth saving at all.” 

 “And now?” Mal raised an eyebrow. 

 “Smart, cautious, pretty and more than a little pathetic with a witty mouth to compensate.” Jay was doing that stupid tongue biting grin, Carlos could just feel it. “You know I can't stay away from his type.” 

 “We have Ben and Doug.” Carlos said flatly. “They both match that description perfectly.” 

 “Yes.” Jay rested his head on Carlos’ shoulder, leaning their heads together. “And I love our boys. But I'm a greedy, selfish bastard and I want Charming under my thumb. I want to witness that bratty attitude erode away and leave behind nothing but blind devotion and stubborn determination to please. Does that not sound poetic to you?” 

 “Not hating this pitch.” Mal hummed. “If we do our job well - and we always do - they'll shape up to be some very interesting trophies. Useful, powerful, capable. Strong in all the ways they should be, weak in all the ways that benefit us. Helpless to rebel. Probably happier than the old Auradon ever could have made them.” She smiled, showing off rows of sharp teeth. “I do like dogs.” 

 “It's mercy, honestly.” Evie said from her spot in his lap. He was carding his fingers through her soft, silky blue hair. “Where are they gonna go if not with us? They have no homes to go back to, no assets to claim, no loved ones to reunite with. We're all they have.” 

 “Doug was good friends with Chad.” Jay said, back to massaging his shoulders. They were admittedly always tense, and Jay's practiced hands felt like heaven. “Jane used to be close with Audrey. And we all know Ben already loves them both. We wouldn't have to do any convincing. There's only benefits to this plan.” 

 “You're thinking with your dick, Jay.” Carlos said, closing his eyes and leaning into the massage. 

 “No, I'm thinking about the big picture.” Jay chuckled. “My dick also being delighted at the idea is really just a bonus.” 

 “A bonus is one way to describe it.” Evie giggled again.

 “No matter what we think, the vote has to be unanimous between us.” Mal said. “Which means it's up to you ‘Los. Take your time and think about it.” The fae laughed, a sharper, much more cackle-y version of Evie's sweet giggle. “They're not going anywhere anytime soon.”

 That's about where that particular line of communication patterned off. They had other things to discuss, much more pressing issues than two former rulers whose role in their schemes were admittedly large, but also much further down the line. Things like when to swoop in and snuff out Lonnie's little rebellion.

 He had - for his partners sake - considered the options. Audrey he could get behind pretty quickly. She had an undeniable ambition. An unwillingness to be broken down. He could appreciate a strong woman just as well under him as he could above him - which was why he was so excited to get his hands on Li Lonnie. Topple her ego and build it back even stronger than before. Give her all the attention she deserved and training she desperately needed. He'd make a damn good warrior out of Lonnie. Audrey had the same potential. She didn't deserve the same status obviously, but as long as Audrey stayed in her place he didn't see the harm in taking her in.

 Chad was a harder sell. Unlike Jay, he didn't bother speaking to the idiot after the whole Evie situation. In Carlos’ often correct opinion, he had learned all he needed to know about the asshole from the one interaction. And every single time Chad happened to end up on his radar after that, he was either a massive pain in his ass, or a major fucking dumbass. Pathetic was an understatement, as far as Carlos was concerned Charming was useless.

 But Evie wanted Chad, and Jay, who arguably knew the most about the blond, really wanted him and Carlos wanted to give them whatever they wanted. So he did his research. He dug up old assignments and projects from Auradon Prep, cross referenced the samples he had of Charming's handwriting to some handwritten drafts and bills written from Charmaine and got to reading.

 He noticed a few things, firstly the fact that Charming was a damn good writer. Everything from his essays to his bill proposals were articulate, concise and very cleverly penned. It felt like reading a completely different person's work, and if there were no legal documents in his hands and he were just left with the schoolwork he'd have immediately assumed Charming plagiarized every last word of it. The level of eloquent and complex thought he was reading sounded nothing like the Chad he'd known. Also among the files he pulled were a couple of creative projects that must have been for an extra credit class or something, including a rough draft for a children's book, complete with illustrations.

 Which brought him to his next observation - Charming was really good at drawing. He probably wanted to be an artist of some kind, and Carlos was sure if he dug enough he could likely find some paintings or colored pencil drawings in Auradon Prep's art studio. He seemed to prefer painting nature and wildlife. He really was his mother's child. Mal would probably get a kick out of the whole thing, so he filed that information away to give to her later. He also managed to get his hands on a journal that was left behind in Chad's old dorm at Auradon Prep. It was full of designs and sketches for various clothing items. He set that aside for Evie.

 Mostly he was just surprised at how smart Charming was. Way smarter than Carlos ever would have guessed. And thorough too. His proposals had contingency plans for their contingency plans, he projected and proposed solutions for problems years in advance. They were also surprisingly progressive for someone like Chad, though he supposed that wasn't too shocking if Doug and Chad really were friends before all this.

 A whole new person had unfolded himself in front of Carlos’ eyes as he read, a person nothing like the arrogant dickhead in baby blue that Carlos hated so much. The more he looked into it, the more he wanted to discover. If this is what Jay had seen glimmering underneath the surface in those locker room talks, Carlos could understand why he wanted Chad so badly.

 Charming would undoubtedly flourish under the proper guidance. Carlos could -perhaps - see himself being that guiding force. Still, he had to see for himself. Had to look Charming in the eyes with this new backlog of information and decide if the dipshit was well and truly worth his time before he just agreed to keep him. He needed to see these pages reflected onto that pretty face.

 And so he stared down at the little princeling as he coughed weakly into his cot. He was pretty. And pathetic. Carlos didn't mind pathetic in healthy doses. Pathetic was fun for him, easy to exploit, fun to play with. He and Jay were alike in that regard. He taps the toe of his boot against the crown of Chad's head with a degree of curiosity. Just how much could Charming take before he shattered? Just what would it take to mold suggestable clay into a glorious statue? He's still crying, not loudly, but enough to make a wet spot on his cot. He fights the urge to grab a handful of curls and force his face into his boot, to make him kiss the leather and admire the blood and tears he'd leave in his wake. It was tempting, but perhaps too indulgent.

 Charming surprises him yet again when two shaking arms come to wrap around his calf. He doesn't lose his balance - he's not a fucking amateur - and he wonders at first if Chad was really stupid enough to try and attack him right now. Instead, to his amusement and genuine astonishment he gets to watch Chad press his lips into the expensive leather of the very same boots that toppled his kingdom just months ago. Charming just kissed his fucking boot. Unprompted. He bottles up a delighted chuckle.

 Charming slowly raises his head, but the rest of his body remains doubled over, prostrated in front of him like a groveling beggar. He peers up at Carlos, eyes wet and teary, a shade of green so light and gentle they were almost blue, framed by long damp lashes. There was so much hurt there, so much pain and fear and desperation. But also something else. Something intriguing. “Please don't hit me again. I'm sorry, My King.” 

 His eyes were knowing. Resigned and frightened, but clever. Charming knew that this was exactly what Carlos wanted, and he was willing to give it to him. His best guess is that Charming knows he's either nearing the edge of his pain tolerance or it's been crossed already. Carlos tampers down a lot of urges then. He wants to kiss Charming so hard their teeth clack together and their skulls rattle. He wants to bite that split lip and hear him cry because he knows that the blond won't pull away, that even if he's hurt he'd surrender. He wants to kick the shit out of Charming for being so damn gorgeous, and for being so fucking stupid. He wants to kick over his oatmeal bowl and watch him lick the sludge off the ground. He wants to make good on his promise to muzzle the bitch just so he could watch his pretty face flush with shame.

 Instead he takes a steady breath in and out, and silently makes a note to thank Jay and his stupid shenanigans for developing his poker face so well. “Let go of me.” He says simply, and Chad does. Of course he does. He wonders if that order would work in reverse. He ignores the thought. 

 He considers Chad again. Shivering, gaunt Chad with a tear streaked face and sweat slick curls sticking to his forehead, staring up at him with those teary hurt clever eyes. Chad seems to consider him back.

 Carlos reaches into his pocket, fingers wrapping around the chocolate bar there. He throws it on the ground right in front of Charming's cot, nodding at it as it clatters against the stone, the first taste of sugar the man will have tasted in two full months. 

 “Good boy.” He says because dogs that behave get treats, and he was feeling generous. He was the fucking King of Auradon. He could have as many chocolate bars as he wanted.

 “Get off your ass every once and a while.” Carlos waits until he's turned on his heel to smile, but he was sure someone as perceptive as Charming could hear the grin in his voice. “You get boring to watch sitting and staring at walls. You don't want to bore me.” 

 And with that cryptic warning he was walking out the door, leaving Chad to his cold rations and likely conflicting feelings. Carlos was not conflicted. Not anymore. He was absolutely sure as he walked up the stairs, back to the kitchen to replace his chocolate bar, that he wanted Chadwick Charming under his thumb and at his heel. He was going to see those teary green eyes bend to his will over and over. And that dumb blond was going to learn to crave it just as much as he did. Charming was gonna fall for him, and fall hard.

 He was going to mold the fuck outta some clay.

—---

 If you asked him, Carlos was a very considerate lover. He approached relationships the way he did everything else; with careful planning and plenty of consideration. He made a point to always think before he acts - someone in this castle fucking had to, and it surely wasn't Jay. Carlos was the bigger picture person.

 Which is why he volunteered to stay home while the others traveled. Conquering a kingdom was a lot of busy work, and while eventually the plan would allow the four of them to rest pretty peacefully in Central Auradon, at the moment at least one of them was usually on the move in order to make a speech or tamper a rebellion. 

As it stood, Uma - who they named as their General pretty much as soon as the crown was theirs - had requested a meeting on the shore of Atlantis in order to plan their next move. Instating military surveillance into every major town and village in Auradon was proving a very tedious - albeit necessary - process. Mal, being High Queen, had to attend. Ideally all four of them would go, but there was simply no way they were taking Ben, Jane and Doug along with them and there was no shot in hell they could stay in the castle by themselves.

 Evie offered to stay and watch over them, but Carlos could tell just by looking at her that it wasn't what she wanted. Evie loved strategizing , she had been working on drafts for a projection strategy for weeks now, and he just wasn't going to let her give that up to paint nails with Jane. Jay also offered, but he cut that down even quicker, knowing how much Jay missed Gil who had become a close friend of his after they squashed their beef with the Wharf Rats.

 And so Carlos stayed behind. And honestly he didn't really mind. His partners knew his opinions on everything that was being discussed, and he knew they'd take it into consideration while they made decisions. He was just fine reading the reports from back home. And they'd only be gone for two days.

 Besides, it's not like he wasn't busy. He spent most of the first day working. He was running a kingdom after all, he didn't have time to sit around and goof off. He still made sure to find time to tend to his lovers though. He sparred with Ben at the man's request, fixing his form and reminding him that he needed to fight like a villain if he wanted to ever actually win against one. Ben had the strength, but he was far too nice, a certain kindness about him lingered even when he fought. Since Mal couldn't administer Jane's magic lesson herself, he whisked her off to the library where they studied together, pouring over old books and ancient runes. She was equal parts attentive and excitable. Her magic was strong and infectious, just like Mal's. It was warmer though, like sitting in the sun as opposed to bathing in the moon. He administered Doug's microdose of poison in Evie's absence and enjoyed a couple very intense rounds of chess while he watched for any negative symptoms or complications. There were none. His songbird was strong and healthy, and while he seemed to blush in the face of a compliment, Carlos couldn't be prouder. 

 He was finishing up some work in his room late that night - he hasn't had an empty bed to himself in ages and it was too surreal for him to sleep - when Ben appeared in his doorway, hair a disheveled mess and barely restrained tears welling up in his eyes. He closed his laptop immediately, his task completely discarded. 

 “What is it?” He scanned the hallway behind Ben, just in case. He ran the usual checklist in his head; no shadowy figures at Ben's heel, no irregular breathing, no new cuts or bruises marring his soft pale skin, eyes downcast but otherwise clear and focused. “What happened?” 

 “‘Los.” Ben sniffles, all his tears seeming to fall at once as he breaks down into a sob. “I had a bad dream.” 

 Oh. Oh. 

 “C'mere, doveling. Shut the door.” He opens his arms, beckoning towards him. Ben shuts the door obediently, practically running into his arms. His arms wrap around Carlos’ torso and squeeze tight, his face pushed into his chest, wetting his shirt with tears. “Shh it's okay. It's okay. Where are the others? Did they ask you to leave?” 

 “Of course not.” Ben's voice is small and weak. “I left on my own. Didn't want them to know I was still…” He patterned off, a sob wracking his body and Carlos held him tighter, shushing him once again.

 “Okay.” He says, stroking the half-beast's hair, running his fingernails gently across his scalp. “Alright, it's okay.”

 Carlos backs them up until he's leaning against the headboard, holding his doveling to his chest like a fragile doll. He was in a way - a doll. Undeniably fragile. No matter how much they discussed other options, they all agreed they just couldn't bring themselves to train that tenderness out of Ben. That softness was the reason he'd ventured to get them off the Isle in the first place. It's what made him himself. They could layer as many bricks on top of it as they liked, but some of that tenderness had to remain.

 About two weeks ago, one of Hans’ brats had come to the castle claiming to have valuable information. Carlos never even wanted them to come. They were VK wannabes, slimey weasels who thought being rude and spreading a few rumors put them in the same caliber as Carlos and the others. They weren't even as clever as their father, who, despite ultimately failing, almost managed to snatch a kingdom right from under the Queen's nose.

 But it wasn't up to Carlos at the end of the day. It was up to Mal, who allowed them a council meeting because “what could it hurt?” They never made it to the meeting room. Instead, Ben had come in, sobbing his eyes out and claiming that the dipshit had put hands on him. Pressed a knife to his throat and threatened him. Sure enough he was bleeding, the wound barely skin deep. It didn't matter. The few drops of blood was enough. Fritz died with his screams echoing through the massive halls of the castle. Mal melted his guts with some ancient magic, eroded him from the inside out. Apparently he'd called Ben a number of nasty names, Evie spent hours just holding him and insisting they weren't true.

 Obviously Ben was still pretty shaken up about it. The princeling had shared their bed every night since the incident, tonight was supposed to be his first night sleeping with the other birds again. Instead here he was, shaking like a leaf while quiet sobs ripped through his body like waves crashing against the shore. That was one thing the former royals of Auradon seemed to have in common, they were used to crying silently. It was eerily similar to so many VKs he knew - to even Carlos himself.

 He didn't like watching them cry.

 Okay well, that wasn't exactly true. His birds were pretty criers. Crying softened up their hardened edges and made them melt like wax between his fingers. He was wicked at his core, he always had been, and he always would be, and so most of the time there was a certain pleasure in watching his trophies cry. 

 When he caused it. Or the others - Mal was the main culprit in that regard. When Carlos managed to pull tears from Ben's eyes, there was a reason. A damn good reason - a light at the end of a tunnel, a means to an end, a necessary step in the plan to mold his beautiful suggestable mind into the better version of itself. Carlos had the right to do that because Ben was his. He'd conquered Ben, staked his claim, planted his flag. The same reason Mal had a right to smack the shit out of him and Jay when they stepped out of line.

 Ben wasn't a commodity to be sold. He wasn't some novelty to experience or some exhibit to be prodded. Ben belonged to the crown. Ben belonged to Mal and Evie and Jay and him. 

 No one got to make Ben cry but them. Just the thought that someone else did this to him - some random fucking play pretend villain wannabe - made Carlos want to kill the bastard all over again. He hadn't suffered enough. Carlos wanted to take the dullest blade he could find and take care of things the good old fashioned mortal way. He'd carve out that weasley ginger's stomach and slice his guts out one by one. He'd pull them out with his own hands, and then choke the mother fucker with them. Then he'd call one of his limp dick brothers to scrub the mess off their castle floors.

 Every shakily swallowed hiccup and labored breath pushed from between Ben's parted lips had been robbed of their beauty. The dewy plumpness of his cheeks and the glistening wet tears sitting atop his long lashes didn't make his chest warm and his skin tingle like it should. It was all wrong. There was nothing pretty about watching Ben cry knowing someone else had hurt him. Someone stupid and careless, who couldn't even begin to understand how complex and exceptional Ben really was. Someone who just saw a toy to be broken and discarded didn't deserve to play with him at all.

 Carlos really hated it when people touched his shit.

 He cards his fingers through Ben's hair. It's soft. Not as soft as Doug's, who has the genetic advantage, but Evie has put a lot of time and effort into making sure their birdies had access to the best products money and magic could manage and Ben was nothing if not diligent under orders. Like everything else about him, Ben's hair is a labor of love. 

 Ben presses up into the touch like a touch starved animal, like he's been sick for years and Carlos’ hand could dispense a healing salve. Like Carlos could absolve him of all his pain.

 Carlos cooes - it's rare coming from him but the sound escapes him before he could stop it. “Pretty little doveling.” He says, because his birds turn his hard heart to mush and soften all his edges. “It'll be okay. I'll make it okay.” 

 Ben softens against him at that, going limp as he finally seems to relax. Ben believes him. He always will. Carlos made sure of it. It was for his own good.

 It seems he wouldn't have to sleep alone after all.

Chapter Text

 Chad didn't understand why all four of them had to be there. He knew they would watch. Pretty much everyone and everything was kept under pretty tight surveillance around here, especially him and Audrey. Once upon a time he knew there were cameras installed in this castle, but cameras could be hacked and footage could be stolen or altered. Not to mention the upkeep cameras required, and the fact that if you cut the power line the camera was done for. They were a massive liability, and knowing Carlos and his tendency to account for problems ages before they could even begin to start, the cameras littering the halls of what was now the Palace of the Striking Dragon had likely been dismantled and disposed of the second Mal took the throne. There were much more secure ways to monitor their domain, most of them magical, all of them ever-present and always watching, so he knew this whole thing would be recorded and watched back at some point. He just didn’t think they’d find it necessary for all four of them to bear witness to his humiliation, nor did he think they’d stoop so low as to orchestrate the whole affair in their bedroom of all places.

 Silly him. He should know better.

 To be perfectly fair, about six months ago he didn't think a lot of the things about his current circumstance could ever be possible. He was alive for one - a fact that still shocked him to his core everytime he was reminded and one that he was still feared could change if he fucked up massively enough. He was also not in a cell, which was almost equally as shocking, if not more. That was a luxury he knew he could be stripped of, and one he was determined not to sully with any bad behavior. Contrary to popular belief, he was not stupid enough to purposefully and continuously test his ruler's patience. He learned ages ago that fucking with the VKs was a fool’s errand.

 Last night was a mistake.

 Last night he'd been stupid. Months of travel and pseudo-freedom had made him careless and sloppy. Honestly with his years of PR training - Charmianian PR training at that, his kingdom was notoriously traditional - he should have known better. He had a little too much to drink at the dinner table, and his guard was down. Joking and laughing with Ben and the others, the ‘birds’ as they'd been so lovingly dubbed. They were finally getting close again, all of them, and Mal and the others seemed pleased with him for his recent good behavior. It felt painfully normal and pleasant and he'd just let his common sense waver for a moment. He'd called Carlos by his name.

 The whole table had gone quiet, so quiet Chad had been sure everyone could hear his heart beating out of his chest and his blood turning to ice cold slush in his veins. Birds got to address the royals by their first name. And even then, they rarely did - choosing to tack on their titles out of common courtesy. Respect. Dogs were not afforded the choice. For them respect was not only mandatory, it was strictly enforced.

 He had practically stumbled over apologies but the damage was already done. Carlos silenced him with a wave of his hand. Chad expected the worst. He expected threats and nasty insults and a few new bruises. Instead Mal told everyone very calmly to finish their food and Carlos told Chad to meet them in the master bedroom first thing the next morning. When the conversation picked up again, it was stilted and cautious, with only the VKs seeming completely unaffected. Ben kept throwing him pitying, worried glances. Lonnie was looking at him like he’d lost his mind. Chad didn’t speak again.

 He didn't sleep very well that night.

 Despite a restless night tossing and turning, he was nothing if not punctual, reporting straight to the giant bedroom his overlords inhabited early the next day. Audrey was up when he left, worry etched into her beautiful features while she ran her manicured nails through his hair, and traced the lines on his face. Eventually he had to gently pry her off. He’d kissed her goodbye and tried to steady his breath as he walked the familiar path. It was hard not to feel like he was marching to his death. He wasn’t going to die - not over this, not even Carlos was that petty. It wasn’t even unfamiliar territory. He’d been punished before, he’d even been to their room before. He hadn’t quite earned the privilege to sleep in their bed like the birds, but sometimes Evie liked to sit him in front of her massive mirror and apply his skincare. Jay liked to pull him down onto the lofty chaise lounge and hold him like an oversized teddy bear while he meditated.

 It just unsettled him - he knew exactly what was going to happen. To say he didn’t want it to happen would be a gross understatement, but at the end of the day it didn’t matter what he wanted. It mattered what they wanted. He wasn’t one to try and delay the inevitable. And the unshakable will of Carlos DeVil- well that was as inevitable as it gets. If he thought too hard about it, let his mind wander in its usual winding thorough path, he’d find that he really didn’t want to stop this. That he too felt like he deserved this. He tried not to think too hard.

 “Come in.” Before he could even raise a hand to knock. It was Carlos’ voice. Was he watching the live-feed? Had he watched him walk down these winding halls, practically chewing a hole through his lip? He grabbed the door handle and turned it. Unlocked. He let himself in.

 All four of them are sitting there expectantly, in various states of undress. Evie is still in her silken navy pajama set, curlers in her hair and a closed hand mirror sat beside her as she sits primly on the bed. She smiles at him when he enters. Jay is dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a black muscle shirt, his long hair thrown up in a bun, which meant that he planned to go workout after this was all said and done. That or he was an evil mastermind that wanted to distract Chad as much as humanly possible. Perhaps a bit of both. It was definitely working, Chad had to purposefully avert his eyes away from the greek god casually lounging on the soft purple cushion. Mal was practically fully dressed, which confirmed his suspicions that she was usually the first one up. She stuck to practical wear she could move in when she didn't plan to leave the castle for the day, all of it tight but not constricting, in her signature green and purple. She nodded in acknowledgement from her place on the bedroom bench that sat right in front of their bed, there was a closed book sitting next to her, likely just recently closed as he walked in. And Carlos.

 Carlos was standing in front of Mal, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a white tank top. Chad would find him torturously beautiful if he wasn't so fucking scared. In his hand was a hunk of leather, all black except for the metallic gleam of silver buckles and the bright sigil of Mal's striking dragon sprawled across the front, the same one that was etched into his shoulder. Carlos was holding a muzzle.

 “Sit.” He commanded, pointing to the ground in front of him. Chad swallowed his heart, which was valiantly trying to climb out through his throat, and nodded, kneeling in the spot Carlos pointed to. “Good. You know what this is, don't you, Charming?” 

 Chad was staring a hole into the dreaded instrument, hoping if he looked long enough it may burst into flames. “Yes, sir.” 

 “Tell me what it is.” 

 “It's a muzzle.” He was going for even and calm complacency, but instead his voice wavered and shrunk like a cornered animal. He winced at the sound of it.

 “Yes it is.” Carlos thankfully didn't feel the need to acknowledge it. Chad was trying not to look at him. He knew he'd have to eventually, but he was also pretty sure once he did he'd start crying and never stop. Better to put that off as much as possible. The detailed etching in the bed frame was much more interesting. Distantly he wondered if the careful pattern was a mark of Doug’s woodwork. “And you know what, Charming? I knew at one point or another you'd end up wearing it. I knew it from the moment we decided that we'd keep you that at least once, more than likely a few times actually, you’d end up with leather straps bogging down those bouncy curls. Don’t feel bad, you’re not alone in that regard. Lonnie had to wear this once or twice. It happens, with your personality types, it's in your nature to act out, correction is normal. Expected. You know why we're doing this, right?” 

 Chad nods, eyes trained on the lush carpet. He has to force his voice to work, labors to bring it above a tense whisper. “Yes, sir.” 

 Carlos touches his face and the world stops. His body freezes like a startled doe caught on a highway, rendering him motionless. Calloused fingers gently but firmly trace the line of his cheek, resting underneath his chin and angling it upwards. Chad takes the silent order in stride, forcing himself to look into the eyes of his king. Somehow he manages not to burst into sobs.

 “Tell me why.” It's quiet but firm. There's no room for argument in Carlos’ tone. Chad shivers, even though his whole body feels warm and flushed. It's almost surreal being handled this gently when he knows what's going to happen next. He expected this whole process to go much differently. He expected to be pushed and shoved to the ground, to be wrestled like an animal and beaten into submission.

 “I disrespected you.” He hates saying it. It feels like admitting a cardinal sin. Shame and panic creep up his spine, settling over his head like a looming cloud. “I denied you your rightful title. I referred to you as my equal.” 

  “Are we equals, Chadwick?” Carlos asks evenly.

 “No sir.” He replies. He's never been so sure of anything in his life.

 Carlos nods, dropping the hand gripping his face to run it gently across the device in his opposite hand. The bulk of it is a mouthpiece, wide enough to cover the entire bottom half of his face and thick enough to muffle any sound that he could manage to make. There's a strap that obviously goes behind his head, with silver notches embedded in it to keep it in place and a little lock to keep the buckle firmly embedded in the notch of choice. The key was in Mal's hand already, the fae twirling it between her nimble fingers as she watched with rapt attention. There were two more straps that would travel up his face and meet right above his nose, leaving him room to breathe through it. There were also straps that would wrap behind his ears and one thick band that would wrap around his neck like a collar. Too many buckles and notches for him to count, all of them in spots that would be far too inconvenient to reach on his own. There was no way for Chad to take the damned thing off by himself, even without the lock. Not that he would try to. He wasn't a fucking idiot.

 “I told you what would happen if you referred to me as your equal again, didn't I?” Carlos says. The lack of mocking in his voice was honestly so surprising it's bordering on confusing. He knew when he slipped up last night that this would be the outcome. He tossed and turned all night long remembering that dark visit in his frigid cell all those months ago. He'd fallen out of practice on tour with Audrey and that was his own fault. He knew there'd be consequences, he just didn't expect them to be administered so…calmly. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Carlos to yell or scream or strike him like he used to.

 “Yes, Sir. You did. There's no excuse for my behavior, you have my sincerest apology. I’m sorry.” He swallows, his mouth is so dry he worries he'll dehydrate with the stupid muzzle locked over his face. A bottle of water flies across the room, landing a few inches from Chad's feet, bouncing on impact. Chad glances in the direction it came from. Jay winks back at him. He turns back to Carlos, face sufficiently flush. 

 “Go ahead.” Carlos nods at the bottle. Chad picks it up almost robotically, unscrewing the top and taking greedy mouthfuls of water. He hadn’t even realized how thirsty he was. “Don't forget your manners, Charming.” 

 “Thank you.” He pants, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands. He'd drained the bottle in seconds. “Thank you, Your Highness.” 

 “You're welcome, pretty boy.” Jay chuckles. “Finish it while you can.” 

 “Don't be mean.” Evie chastises him lightly. She's not looking at Jay though. She's staring right at Chad.

 Carlos is studying him, Chad can feel his weighty gaze, not quite cold, but entirely calculated. “You want me to hit you?”

 “No, Sir.” He whispers, his entire body tense. He still has scars from his time in captivity, before he so wisely decided mouthing off at Carlos DeVil was never worth it.

 “You expect me to.” 

 “Yes, Sir.” It wasn’t a question, but he answered all the same. I can take it. He doesn’t say. If that’s what it takes for forgiveness, for that almost normal to come back, I can take it.

  “I’m not going to hit you.” Carlos says, still staring intently. “Not today. There’d be no point. This right here -” he lifts the muzzle, nods at it so Chad’s eyes flicker toward it, “-is your punishment. If I hit you right now, it would be for fun.” 

 Carlos crouched down in front of him, bringing their line of sight to an equal level. Chad valiantly fights the urge to lower his eyes. Being on an equal playing field with the man who so thoroughly reminded him that he was beneath him felt wrong, like he was disrespecting him all over again. “Listen to me, Charming. I will have your respect. I will have your obedience. I will have your loyalty. These are mandatory to not only your continued spot on this court, but to your life. You may fear me. I can live with that. More than live with it- I could revel in it.”

 Carlos slowly reaches out a hand, like he’s approaching a rabid animal. Chad suppresses a flinch - if Carlos said he wasn’t going to hit him he had to believe it, if not for his own sanity. Carefully, with the gentle fondness Chad has only seen him caress his precious birds with, Carlos cups his cheek. “However, I would like your trust, so I’m not going to beat you into submission while I don’t have to. There are plenty of ways to train a dog, only a fucking amateur feels the need to scream and kick at it until it’s cowed. I could beat you into submission - I will if you decide you’d rather be a nuisance. You’d respect and obey me. You’d be loyal to a fault with the knowledge that any benefit you could reap from disloyalty would be greatly outweighed by the consequence. And it would be fun for me, yes, but you wouldn’t trust me. You’d see me as this lurking force, this inevitable consequence. I’d rather not have things that way. I’d rather you and I get along. What would you rather, Charming? Would you rather I beat you into submission?” 

 “No, Sir.” A fevered whisper, thick with fear and anticipation and whatever else was coursing through his blood and settling in his bones. He’s shaking, but Carlos’ hand is still - heavy. It’s comforting, despite everything. A small, long buried part of himself acknowledges how fucked it is.

 “So you’re going to be a good dog aren’t you?” Dog. Said without a hint of mocking or malice, simply like an objective fact. The sky was blue, the earth was turning, Carlos was a King and Chad was a dog.

 “Yes, Sir, I will.” He promises, leaning into Carlos’ hand like a desperate worshiper at a temple. 

 “Yeah, you will.” Carlos smiles at him, the soft genuine smile he gives Ben and the others, not the sharp baring of teeth or chilling smirk he gives Audrey and him. He could cry at the mercy. He is - he realizes - crying. He keeps his hands in his lap, unsure if he’s supposed to be raising them - scared that it could be misconstrued as trying to delay or prevent his punishment. Carlos beats him to it before he could worry himself into a frenzy, gently swiping the rough pads of his fingers across his damp cheeks, wiping away fresh tears. “You disobeyed me - that’s going to happen. But you weren’t a fucking brat. You made an honest mistake, and you’re going to be corrected for it.” There's a softness in his voice that Chad has heard before but never experienced. The same gentle cadence he speaks to Ben and the others with, firm and domineering but tinged with fondness and care.

 “I’m sorry.” His voice is tear soaked and heavy with despair. Everything inside him is so mixed up, he’s never been so confused and vulnerable. “I’m so sorry.”

 “I know, Scout, I know.” Carlos runs his thumb along his cheekbone. “You know how I know? You’re a shit fucking liar, if you weren’t really sorry I could tell. You’ve given me respect with your apology, that I didn’t even have to ask for yet, and I’m proud of you for it. Your punishment will teach you humility, another virtue you’ll have to adopt in order to stay with us.” 

 “I’m scared.” Chad admits, feeling childish and stupid and terrified out of his mind. His whole body is shaking, and try as he may he can’t force stillness onto his person. 

 “I know.” Carlos trails his hand upwards, letting it rest in his hair. Chad expects him to pull it - Carlos loved to pull at his curls, it was his go-to method of getting Chad’s attention. Instead he scratches softly at his scalp, just like Audrey does at night. He melts like butter into his hand. 

 “I’m so scared.” He whispers. It’s terrifying, not knowing the next time he’ll get to use his voice. What if something happens? The VKs are around other VKs so often, the castle is practically bustling with visitors at any point in time and some of them really hate Chad. Or at the very least everything he represents. What if someone tried to hurt him? He’d be even more powerless than usual. He couldn't cry out for one of his four rulers and pray they’d come, that they still thought he was worth saving. 

 “You’re safe.” Carlos says with conviction. “Rules still stand, no one can touch you. Don’t fight me on this Chad, you said you’d be good.” 

 “I’m safe?” He echoes, his voice tiny and frail. He feels frail. He feels like when that leather touches his face he'll crumble into a million pieces and the dust will stain their beautiful carpets. He feels like he'll choke on the fear before he even gets the chance to suffocate.

 “You're safe.” Mal says it this time. He stares up at her, feels her magic grasp at his racing mind. He used to find the feeling frightening. He'd never felt fae magic in its full effect. Back before all this Jane would sometimes accidentally lose control over her magic and he would feel it. Like a grazing heat, a ray of sunshine passing over his arm, only skin deep. It was entirely different when a faerie was purposefully embedding their magic into you. Like warm honey filling his veins and a foggy haze invading his mind. Mal was dark fae, so her magic was a little colder, but it was still entirely overwhelming. It never failed to shut him up when he got too loud. Eventually it became a comfort. It's an instant relief, he could cry from gratitude. “We take care of what's ours. If you get hurt, it's going to be by our hand, and it's going to be on purpose. This isn't meant to hurt you, so it's not going to. Simple as that.” 

 “Okay.” He says, sniffling a bit still. He believes her. It may be foolish - delusional even, but he really does believe the fae when she speaks. Maybe it's the magic. Maybe it's desperation. The thing about Mal is she speaks pretty plainly for a fae, and she has no interest in trying to deny or exhibit any shame for what she does to people. The hardships she'd forced him through were no exception. When the High Queen of Auradon thought he deserved to suffer, she said as much and he suffered. If she said she wanted him safe, then he'd be safe. He'd be safe.

 “Let me put it on.” Evie offers in a tone that suggests she'd be doing him a favor, but it's written all over her face that it's really just what she wants. Her eyes are practically glimmering with interest, peering into him in a way that makes him feel warm and cold at the same time.

 Carlos almost says no. Chad can see it in his face, the way his eyebrows furrow slightly, and fingers twitch around the muzzle. But then he turns his head back to look at her, and one look at Evie's face is enough. It's always a bit fascinating to him watching such a strong and immovable force bend to Evie Grimhilde. Fascinating and very understandable.

 “Yeah, sure.” Carlos shrugs. He passes the leather muzzle behind him, handing it to Mal who hands it off to Evie. “Since he's been good.” 

 Evie beams at the concession, crawling over to kiss Carlos as he backs off to sit next to Mal. He smiles back at her, lightly grazing her back as she climbs out of bed, padding over to Chad. She's not even wearing shoes yet, still in her slippers from the night before. In her hand is a small vial of purple liquid. Despite his fear, he can't help but cock his head to the side in curiosity. Potions always fascinated him, especially in recent months as he watched the many ways Evie utilized them. Maybe one day he could earn the privilege of learning under her.

 As soon as she hands him the vial, he's unscrewing it. He doesn't waste time asking her what it is, or why he had to take it. That was a habit he'd been quickly and efficiently trained out of. Back when he was locked up, he was given all kinds of potions - always handed to him before any other sort of action. The start of every interaction never varied no matter which one of them came to visit. They'd pass it over to him, and they'd wait. The second half of the interaction was up to him. Sometimes if he refused the potion they'd take it away from him, only to explain it was something that would have greatly improved his quality of life. A potion that staved off hunger, or thirst, something that would make his sleep dreamless or his mind quiet. The time he unknowingly denied a potion that would have made it impossible for him to feel cold, he cried through the night. Other times he would refuse and the potion would be forced down his throat anyway. Those were usually the not-so-nice potions. Things that made him temporarily paranoid, or paralyzed, or things that would put him in pain. 

 The lesson was pretty clear. There were no upsides to refusing a potion. If they offered help and he denied it, it was his own fault. If it caused him harm and they wanted that harm to befall him, it would. One way or another. Refusal only made things harder for himself. It was simple conditioning, but just because Chad could identify what it was didn't mean he was immune to it.

 It didn't matter. They usually told him what it was afterwards anyway.

 He gets it down in one go, thinks of it like a shot. He's rewarded for his quick obedience with a grin from Evie, before she crouches down to his level. 

 “What I just gave you will make it impossible for your airways to be obstructed, even if there's physically something in the way.” She explains. “It's still very much possible for you to breathe with your muzzle on, but this'll make sure you're still able to get plenty of air in.” 

 “It's so you can still run, jump and train without hurting yourself.” Carlos says. “We don't want you passing out on us. And with the state you're in, skipping training isn't an option.”

 He nods his understanding, not trusting his voice. If he could bring himself to speak, he'd thank them. Being able to take deep breaths unobstructed was very important to him, and it was a privilege he couldn't really handle being taken away. And who knows how long he'd have this stupid thing on his face? He couldn't fall behind in training just because he'd been a fucking idiot. He was behind enough as is.

 “Good. Be still for Eves, let her work.” 

 “Wait.” Jay jumps up from his casual lounging, coming to crouch down next to Evie. The two share a look and Evie nods, giving him a small smile. Jay looks at Chad, eyes sharp and lit up, almost excited. “Can I kiss you?” 

 “Yes.” He could barely breathe his consent before Jay's hands were on him, one in his hair and one cupping the back of his neck, pulling him in. He tumbles into the kiss, Jay's solid body being the one preventative force keeping him from sprawling onto the carpet. It's all-consuming, and rough, making warmth explode in his gut and ending all too soon. 

 Jay backs away with a wild smile, relaxing his grip on Chad's hair to lightly ruffle his curls instead. “There's my boy.” 

 Evie rolls her eyes at his antics, shooing him back over to his beloved chaise lounge. “You're such a brute, Jay.” She says. “Here, c'mere baby.”

 Chad leans in so Evie can kiss him. She cups his cheek instead of his neck, the kiss soft and languid and sweeter than he deserved. He melts into her hands like ice on a hot iron. She too pulls away much too quickly for his liking, but she at least thinks to soothe him with a peck on the cheek before she fully moves away from him.

 “That's how his last kiss should go.” She says matter-of-factly. 

 “Only good boys get to kiss me like that.” Jay rolls his eyes back at her. “So he can get one after that thing comes off.” 

 “What a bully.” Evie tuts over her shoulder. Her full attention is on Chad now, clever almond eyes gentle and caring. He resolutely ignores the glee residing there as well. She presses a small rubber mouthpiece to his lips and he obediently opens his mouth, despite being quite sure his heart was beating out of his chest. She gently feeds it in. “There we go, see? You're already a good boy. Poor baby, I know you're scared.” 

 “The rubber piece is to prevent you from moving your tongue.” Carlos explains evenly. “The leather will muffle your sounds, but the rubber ensures you can't even form words if you tried. It's gonna keep you from being tempted.” 

 The rubber is soft and pliable, easy to bite down on without it taking up too much space in his mouth. He can still close his mouth. It doesn't even strain his jaw. He gives a shaky thumbs up.

 Evie carefully fits the mask over his mouth, muttering quietly about how he's okay while Carlos calmly explains what's going on. Chad tries his best to pay attention. To focus in on what Carlos is saying to him because not listening is what got him into this mess in the first place. He tries to ignore the steady pressure of Evie clicking those notches into place one by one, securing each belt with precision and care. He feels Mal's magical presence increase, feels his mind fill with slightly more hazy calming fog. He wants to kiss the ground she walks on in this moment.

 “The muzzle comes off during meal times so you can eat, and after training so you can drink.” The pressure increases, never painfully but always impossible to ignore. Another little clink from metal hitting metal. “After you'll report to one of us to put it back on you. If I hear you speak when it's off, I'll add another day to your punishment. That's why I'm not letting you take it off while you train. It's way too tempting, you'll never get that thing off.” 

 “The mouthpiece comes out at night as well, so you won't hurt your jaw or swallow it through the night. In the morning you'll report here to have it put back in. We'll be on a rotation based on whose day it is to deal with you and your muzzle.” Evie kisses every bit of exposed skin she can while she works. She pauses every time she hovers near his ear to tell him he's doing a good job. He breathes, relishes in the fact that he still can. Wants to thank them for the mercy. Wants to ignore how fucked that was.

 “How long you wear the muzzle depends on how well you behave. You won't be expected to appear in any interviews or leave the castle with it on - I'll be nice this first time, but I really suggest avoiding a second.” Evie finishes by securing the collar of the muzzle around his neck, kissing the skin right above the leather and making him shiver. Mal tosses her the key and she catches it effortlessly. He doesn't try to crane his head around to see, he's too afraid of how heavy it feels. He hears the damning click when it happens. He's locked in. Evie kisses him one last time, then stands, staring proudly down at her handiwork.

 “So pretty.” She coos. “Lonnie looked just as adorable, those great big tears in her eyes.” She leans down to wipe his tears with her thumb. “You're okay, honey. No pain anywhere?” 

 He shakes his head no, testing the weight of his new prison. It's obvious but not hindering. She nods, looking content with herself and handing the key back to Mal. The fae produces a string from her pocket, mutters a spell that makes it glow a warm purple hue and then strings the key through it, handing it back to her. Evie ties it around her neck with a girlish grin, showing off rows of perfect teeth.

 “The spell is to protect the key.” Mal says simply. “The string won't break, can't be cut, or untied by anyone but the person who ties the knot or the person who cast the spell. No one controls you but us.” 

 Carlos gets up from his seat, comes to stand in front of Chad with an observant gleam in his eye. He knows Carlos gets a kick out of this, knows no matter how real his comfort and care may be, his sadism is just as real. He cranes his neck up when Carlos lifts his jaw, lets his head be turned from side to side and tilted every which angle like a prized show dog. It's a routine captivity has gotten him used to, Carlos always liked to admire his work. He knew he was well and truly fucked when he started to enjoy the attention, when he had to fight himself not to preen under his watchful gaze. Normally Carlos would hook a finger in the corner of his mouth and he'd smile, sometimes to show off bloody teeth, mostly just to prove he would if he was told to - testing his obedience. He can't do that this time. His eyes well up again.

 “You understand the rules of your punishment?” Carlos asks. Chad nods. Grunts when he realizes that's what Carlos wants. It's a garbled pathetic mess, it's all he can manage around a mouthful of rubber and leather. It brings a smile to Carlos’ face, and through the hazy fog of Mal's magic it's almost worth the humiliation. He tries not to imagine what he looks like. “Atta boy. You're just fine, Scout. It's gonna be just fine.”

 Scout. It's a dog's name, but he answers to it, so he must be a dog too. He tries not to let it bother him. The birds get bird names, of course a dog gets a dog's name. He's Scout, Audrey is Bandit. It used to really bug him. For a small delusional period of time, he refused to answer to it, but that was remarkably short lived and stupid. There was only so many times he could be slapped and told “I'm fucking talking to you” before he caved. And so he answered when he was called, but it wasn't until later when he was cranky enough to ask Jay - who was less likely to smack him for his boldness - why they chose Scout of all names. Not Buster or Rex or Spike.

 “Because you're smart, Scout.” Jay had said, clearly amused he had worked up the courage to even ask. “You sit and you observe, waiting for your time to act. All those drafts for policies and legislation collecting dust, your multi-step plan crumbling apart from the core out. Too little too late, but full of potential. You scouted your territory. Useful skill.” 

  Smart. Useful.

  Probably the only two reasons he was alive. Besides pretty, which they all called him on several occasions, including some he didn’t personally think warranted such a compliment. He was pretty, and smart and useful and that’s what kept his head from rolling. That’s why they liked him. He liked to think he added more reasons to that list. That he was funny, charming, caring and quick. That he had a hunger to learn and a reckless drive to please. But at his core he knew that didn’t matter. They wouldn’t have discovered any of it if he wasn’t smart and useful.

 If he wasn’t Scout. 

 It was hard to see it as anything other than a term of endearment when he thought about it like that. He was proud of those traits. They’re what made him such a good prince. They’re what make him a good accessory to their crown - a good dog . They’re what made him worth a damn in the eyes of these four powerful, influential beings that ran his life, and as it stood their opinions were the only important ones. 

 He was so fucked up. Conditioning was a bitch. It just hurts so much less when he doesn’t fight it, lets them mold him how they want him. He’s happier that way too, gets to bask in attention and praise, gets to spend time having genuine fun with the birds, gets to live instead of being alive. He doesn’t mind shaving off the unsavory bits of his past self. The bits he hated for himself, curated by his traditional family in his traditional kingdom with its traditional laws. He doesn’t want the shit anyway.

 Carlos scratches at his scalp for a bit, content to look at him, pliable, obedient and subdued. Chad is fine with that. Carlos is being gentle with him, instead of pulling and twisting at his curls like Chad knows he likes to. Carlos doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. He must like this too, in a way. I’d like your trust. He’d said. Chad chooses to believe him.

 He has at least four days with this damned thing on, one for each VK. True to his namesake, he’d been observing through this whole ordeal. He’d seen the fascination in their faces, the gleam in their eye. They haven’t gotten to do this since Lonnie shaped up, which was, according to the woman herself, quite some time ago. They’d all be eager to play this particular game again, they’d all want a go at turning the key in the lock, watching his body tense, stroking his shoulders or rubbing his back. Giving him momentary freedom before they trapped him once again. It was part of the game for them. It was in their nature. 

 It was Chad's goal to not add any days on top of that. Four was plenty.  He could suffer through four days. He was getting good at suffering through things. Beginning to appreciate the release at the end - the reward of a job well done - the light at the end of the tunnel. 

 Carlos steps away and the room starts to bustle. Jay comes over, ruffles his hair and says his farewells, already fully prepared to go workout and start his day. Mal rises from the bench to go sit at the modest desk by the now empty chaise lounge. On her way over she picks up a massive book from the shelf and sets it down heavily on the desk when she arrives. She sits, takes out a journal and pen from the desk drawer and gets to work. If Chad could speak he'd remind her she already had a book sitting abandoned on the bench. Instead he just stares. Carlos disappears into the bathroom, the sound of water running starting up immediately afterwards. 

 Evie looks at him. “I’m not busy until it’s time for Lonnie’s microdose at ten. It’s only eight now, I think I’ll lay back down for once.” 

 He stares up at her, respectfully devoting his attention to her while she speaks. He doesn’t say anything back. 

 “Would you like to lay down with me?” There’s a snort from Mal’s desk, but Evie pays her no mind, earnest gaze on Chad. He tries not to look too eager when he nods.

 “Dogs on the bed?” Mal asks, but there's no bite or disapproval. None of the things that would make Chad shrink back and rip apart at the seams. He was certain that if in this moment Mal decided he was unworthy of getting up on the bed, he’d collapse in on himself a formless heap. Thankfully the fae sounds amused. She hasn’t even looked up from her work, her pen steadily scratching against paper. Sometimes he sits and watches her work if he has nothing better to do. He’s sort of limited on what he can do with his free time, he’s not really allowed to be anywhere except his room without an escort.

 “Domesticated ones, yes.” Evie says in the same playful cadence. “And our Scout is domesticated, isn’t that right baby?”

 He’s about to nod, but Evie touches her hand to her throat and he takes the silent command for what it is. Swallowing what’s left of his pride, he grunts his affirmative, peering up at her to confirm that’s what she wanted. She beams in response, clapping her hands together in delight. It’s the beginning of what he suspects will be a long running pattern over the next four or so days, their sick fascination with getting him to speak in his current state, like it will yield anything other than garbled nonsense and humiliation. He tries not to look so dejected about it. He has an objective in mind. He wants to get on the bed.

  Damn it all to hell, maybe I really am a dog. 

  “Eves, you big softy.” Mal snorts again. “You’re gonna spoil that boy rotten.”

 “That’s the idea, love.” The witch giggles in return. She opens her arms to Chad, patting the space beside her. “Get on up here, Charming. You can listen to Mal yell at pages with me.” 

 “I do not yell at the pages, I just talk while I work.”

 “Of course.” Evie winked at him. They both experienced Mal’s frustrated screams at an academic dead end firsthand plenty of times. There were a lot of them when you studied magic. Still he stifles his laughter, scared of what it will sound like. Scared it’ll sound like nothing at all. 

 He’s slow to stand. His legs are tingling from kneeling so long, something his body still wasn’t conditioned out of for some strange reason. Of course the same traitorous body that made his cheeks flush with warmth and his heart swell with pride at the positive reinforcement from his captors, wouldn’t have the decency to take to a change that would actually make his life easier. Light forbid his life ever be easy- the world may implode. 

His limbs are heavy and tired when he finally does get to his feet. The emotional toll of the past 30 minutes must have expanded to the physical. That and he didn't fucking sleep last night. Suddenly the bed looks even more tempting. Maybe Evie will let him take a nap. Maybe when she leaves, he’ll look so peaceful she doesn’t want to disturb him, so she lets him sleep in their big lofty bed all day. He could skip training, skip lessons and his first day in hell would be blissfully over instead of just beginning. It’s those delusions that give him the strength to make it to the side of the bed despite his sudden fatigue. 

 Evie pulls him down like he weighs nothing, and he drops down next to her like a sack of potatoes, closing his eyes as instant relief washes over him. Finally comfortable. As comfortable as he can be anyway. He hears Evie giggle, lets her reposition his limbs to where she wants them, feels her scoop him up like a teddy bear and cuddle in close, pulling warm covers over both of them. She smells heavenly, like cinnamon and vanilla. Her skin is so soft he feels like he’s melting into her. Large expanses of her bare skin are touching his right now, an experience that he only gets to explore with Audrey and occasionally Jay when he feels like throwing a pent up, sexually frustrated dog a bone. It’s surreal to experience it with Evie Grimhilde of all people, the scrappy but surprisingly well kept Isle girl he thought he had out-smarted all those years ago. He had liked her back then. She was pretty and clever in the way Audrey was but often had to hide. Audrey who was painfully out of reach at the time. He was - quite bluntly- a massive dick back then, but somehow he’d justified it in his head. His PR team would never let him date a villain kid. He’d have to fight them tooth and nail to even be friends with one of them publicly. He’d cut things off abruptly and efficiently, and then he’d make it up to her later, when his plan was further along. His perfect plan. Too little too late. Oh how things have changed. 

 Evie gently guides his face, and he follows without even opening his eyes. He doesn’t really need to. He trusts her, stupidly, foolishly, desperately he trusts her. She kisses him, and he screws his eyes shut even harder. He likes kissing Evie. She’s soft, and probably the kindest to him, and gentle most of the time. She smells nice, and she kisses with this languidness, like she has all the time in the world, like there’s nothing she’d rather do then share that sweet gentle moment with you, not at all like the clash of teeth and tongue that it was kissing Mal or Carlos. Not that he doesn’t enjoy those, it’s just that Evie was - different. Evie was careful. She kissed him like a lover, not like he was something she was trying to claim. Part of him knew that was because in her mind she didn’t have to, her claim was in the way he leaned into her, in the way when she tugs gently on his hair or his shirt sleeve, he follows without a second thought. Every part of him doesn’t really fucking care. 

 He can’t feel this kiss. It’s nothing but the feel of leather and the taste of rubber. It's overwhelming, devastating nothingness. One of her hands plays with the little lock sitting behind his head. The little tinkling sound makes him sick. He sobs, ugly and heaving and probably ridiculous sounding. He can’t stop himself. He grips desperately at Evie’s silk tank top and he cries so hard it turns his stomach. His two villainous lovers - is that what they were now, does he get to call them that - are kind enough not to comment on it. Evie doesn’t stop toying with the lock, but she uses her other hand to trace her fingers along the exposed bits of skin on his face. It’s as kind as it is cruel. 

 Fog moves into his mind, a slow, creeping, all-consuming haze that makes his tense limbs go loose and limp. It’s strong, so strong he can barely think straight. He doesn’t have the capacity to be scared anymore. He’s never been so grateful for dark magic in his life. He very weakly considers building Mal an altar, before that thought too dissolves under the oppressive force of the Mistress of Magic herself.

 “Sleep it off, Scout.” It’s Mal’s voice but it feels thousands of yards away. “Just go to sleep.”

 He’s learned recently that it was in his best interest to always follow an order the first time. This one certainly didn’t need repeating. He buried himself in the scent of vanilla and cinnamon, and fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

 Being a prince had never been very fun, despite what Chad would tell the tabloids. Charmaine was a relatively big kingdom, with relatively traditional values, and so Chad had to be very particular about his image. His PR team was very thorough, and also coincidentally not very fond of him. He harbored way too many pesky attributes for their tastes; like thoughts and opinions. Things he had to iron down and fit snugly into a polished and semi-conservative box. So really being a prince wasn't very fun at all - it was quite a lot of fucking work actually.

 But that was fine. He had a plan. 

 He loved plans.

 He'd play by their game until he was of age, smile at the cameras, wink at his suitors, carefully pluck the thoughts from his eyes. Everything was very purposeful. His playboy persona was the perfect excuse to turn down serious relationships, his airheaded act meant he would be underestimated and his ‘prince of the people’ title meant he was liked well enough to get away with sly shit. In the meantime, he’d draft bills and amendments. Try to clean up the legal mess that was his government. He'd have to ease the more liberal stuff in, hide and muddy it with long-winded sentences and flowery wording, but that was well within his capabilities.

 It only got easier when he and Audrey started dating. He'd always loved her - literally how could he not - brilliant and brave Audria Rose. Ben was a fool to let her go, but Chad was more than happy to be there for her as she grieved their relationship. With her around he didn't have to deal with groupie princesses and fawning suitors trying to win his affection and his kingdom. Plus Audrey was quite literally the smartest person he knew. Together they were an unstoppable force. They would sit in the library for hours running ideas past each other, poking holes in each other's drafts until everything was air tight. They were a great team and they had a great system. They were going to usher their two kingdoms into a more progressive future. Slowly but surely, they would mend what was broken. They had a plan.

 And then everything went to shit. 

 “Let's get you to your room, Chad.” Ben mutters, concern painting his handsome features. The half-beast was stubbornly insistent upon supporting most of Chad's weight, one of his sturdy muscular arms hugging his waist. It was everything his thirteen year old self could ever dream of. It was actually driving him kind of crazy right now. His body was plenty confused nowadays, there was no need to worsen his condition with pretty boy ex-best friends.

 “Ben, I can walk myself to my room.” He says for maybe the millionth time. “I'm not drunk anymore.” And he wasn't - for the most part anyway. He was a responsible drunk, the kind that drank plenty of water and made sure to snack on carbs beforehand. Princes like him didn't do sloppy drunk, and they didn't do hangovers. Not enough time in the day and too many skeletons in his closet.

 But he wasn't that type of prince anymore. He wasn't any type of prince. He wasn't really sure what he was anymore. 

 If you asked someone who actually fucking mattered, he was a dog.

 Which was demeaning, and insane and becoming more and more true every single day he spent in this damned castle, which was confusing and frightening and maybe he just wanted to stop fucking thinking about it for two seconds. Maybe Doug was twelve drinks in and drunk out of his mind, and looking ten times happier because of it. Maybe Chad wanted to see what sloppy drunk was like. And then maybe he got scared and pussied out and had just started drinking his weight in water when Ben swooped him up like a slightly aggravating and very beautiful guardian angel and decided he was done for the night. 

 And maybe Chad knew, despite the liquor in his system, in the very back of his mind, that Ben had not decided on his own that Chad needed an escort. Maybe he knew that one of the people holding his very short leash was watching him and didn't like what they saw and decided to send good cop on over to handle a slightly drunk him tonight, so that they could bad cop all over sober him in the morning. Maybe that was a sobering thought.

 Whatever the case may be, he wasn’t drunk anymore - not in the ways that mattered. He was more than capable of walking himself to his own room, where he could collapse on his bed, stare at the ceiling and wait for Audrey to come back. It wouldn’t be long before she realized he had been escorted away and she followed him back to their room. They never went to bed without each other. Never again.

 “I believe you, really I do.” Ben says. Chad isn’t sober enough to tamper down the following scoff. Ben stops their already maddeningly slow pace to look him in the face. Ben's eyes age him. They’re a shining glassy brown, so light they’re practically green, deep, inquisitive, and knowing. They’ve watched cities burn and seen men take their last desperate heaving breath. And yet they’re still so gentle when he looks at Chad. Ben looks at Chad - bent and crooked and broken, laughably weak and painfully cynical - like he’s some treasure he wants to preserve. Like he was worth a damn. Chad's resolve is quickly disintegrating. 

 “I do believe you.” Ben is basically pleading with him now, those huge earnest eyes full of care and concern and damn it all to hell, it was plain unfair. “Just please, love, humor me.” 

 And so Chad shuts the fuck up and lets Ben play hero because he’s never been able to tell Ben no in his entire stupid lousy life. Especially not when he was looking at him like he hung the stars and moon, and calling him love. He commits to the bit, letting himself stumble over his own two feet so Ben can feel important, and not like a child sent after a time consuming but all together useless task so they’d stay out of the adults way. He also does it to feel the addictive pressure of Ben’s arm tightening around his waist in a valiant attempt at steadying him. He considers it a reward for playing nice.

 When they finally make it to his door Ben insists on walking him inside and physically putting him into bed. He lets the half-beast gently hoist him up, arrange his tired limbs across the bed, and fret over his hair. He answers the beautiful idiot's numerous questions - ( yes he feels okay, no he doesn't need any pain meds or potions, no he wasn't high on anything, yes he knew he could tell him if he was) - and enjoys the warm weight of Ben's hands engulfing his own. Eventually Ben is placated, after making him promise he wouldn't try to leave his room - honestly how drunk did this man think he was - and he bids him goodbye with a fond smile and a warm electrifying kiss pressed to his forehead. 

  “Stay.” He pleads in his mind. He would reach out his hand and it wouldn't tremble and Ben would take it and peer at him with that damned earnest, open, dreamy look in his stupidly pretty eyes. “Please stay, don't leave me alone here, I can't handle being alone ever again. Stay and look at me like I matter some more.” 

 Chad says nothing.

 He waits til the door closes before sitting back up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. Sighs so heavily he's sure his chest will cave in. Left to his own devices, he’s suddenly aware of how much discomfort his clothes were causing him, several layers of fabric stuck flush against his skin, damp with sweat. Gross. He addresses the item that's bothering him the most - a pair of fingerless leather gloves that chafed the valleys between his fingers and made writing, eating and any other basic fine motor skill a major pain in his ass. They were a gift from Jay. He peels them off with no small sense of relief, more than eager to be rid of them.

 Ben must have been pretty far gone himself if he hadn’t thought to change Chad out of even one of the several layers of leather and body paint he was sporting. He looked like an edgy circus clown's wet dream, and he was fucking filthy. If Chad really was too drunk to function, he’d be fucked. 

 Well, Chad was fucked nonetheless after tonight. Ridiculously, horrendously fucked, in more ways than one. 

 “Light's fucking sake.” He muttered, neatly folding the gloves into themselves and sticking them in his bedside drawer. As much as he hated the damn things, Jay seemed to have a minor obsession with seeing them on Chad - which just had to be a form of narcissism. Unfortunately, Chad was really starting to give a fuck about making Jay happy. Beyond that, he was starting to really crave the heavy gaze and lingering fingers that those gloves tended to yield. It was endlessly frustrating. It was admittedly pathetic. Nonetheless he took good care of the damned things.

 Now that the main contributor to his discomfort was taken care of, it was truly tempting to just lay on the bed and rot until Audrey returned. Staring at walls and retreating into his mind was an activity he got well acquainted with while he was still in captivity. It was the only thing he could manage to do, in between lukewarm meals and visits from his betters. It was the only thing he could find a shred of solace in. He wasn't like Audrey - moving around, pacing, screaming at walls and punching her cot, all of the things that kept her spirit wild, and provided her comfort would have only served to make him more depressed. Remind him just how cramped his cage was.

 And unfortunately it was a difficult habit to break. Being present and in the moment was laborious even at the best of times, downright torturous at the worst of them. He and Audrey had coping mechanisms in place - things to help him when he was so deep in his own head he may as well be locked up again. He’d taught a handful of them to Ben, at the man’s insistence. It was harder when he was alone to try and pull himself out of it. His willpower was woefully flimsy when it came to matters of his own well-being. His body ached with the urge to lay back down, to stare at the ceiling until the lines of reality blurred and his mind shut the fuck up.

 Instead he shakes his head and immediately grimaces at the feeling of his damp curls flying in the process. He needs a fucking shower. Isle inhabitants running Auradon meant that formal balls were traded in for wild, Isle style blowout parties, which meant significantly more sweat, drugs, music and alcohol and significantly less fabric. He wasn’t even wearing a real fucking shirt, it was some sort of mesh affair that Evie had designed that always made Mal’s hands linger along his torso, and a sleeveless leather vest marked clearly with Carlos’ colors. The ensemble was practically glued to his skin at this point, damp with sweat, alcohol, and anything else that had been ‘accidentally’ spilled on him throughout the night. Audrey would kick his ass for laying in bed like this. He was disgusting. 

 With a long suffering sigh he pushes himself onto his feet, wringing his hands nervously. I’m in deep shit tomorrow , he thinks grimly, shrugging himself out of the vest and throwing it to the ground. He can’t even manage a single step before he stops again. He stares at the vest - narrows his eyes at it in a halfhearted attempt at a glare. Then he sighs, picking it back up and putting it on a hanger. Old habits die hard and all. 

 Peeling off the mesh is more satisfying than it has any right to be. It’s studded with gems, which look admittedly good on him despite how gaudy it may be, but feels less than ideal after a long night. He doesn’t hang it up, it’s so damp it’s practically dripping, and he shoves it right in the laundry basket where it belongs. He’d burn it if he could. He sheds his pants as well, tossing them into the laundry and trudging off to the bathroom to start the shower.  He leaves the door open - privacy was an illusion to him at this point. Or a sick joke. Mal kept constant surveillance by means of Evie’s magic mirror, he was half convinced they were always watching. Any conversation or compromising position could be captured and played back.

 Besides, they had already seen every inch of his body by this point. Knowing Jay there was probably an archive of video footage dedicated to it. Perverted bastard.

 He ran the water as hot as it would go, eager to wash the paint, sweat and grime from his skin. Body paint was another uniquely Isle thing, another opportunity for him to showcase his villainous lover’s signature colors in traditional Isle stakes of ownership. Today he sported deep yellowish gold - Jay’s markings that the thief had been more than pleased to make himself, tracing his fingers in bold strokes across Chad’s torso, face and neck, while the asshole flirted and made teasing comments. It ended up looking like billowing smoke was climbing up his chest, eager to consume and claim every inch of his skin. The sight of it ignited a stir in his gut that he chose not to acknowledge. He’d done his makeup to match, gold glitter streaked across his eyelids and cheekbones. 

 He took his role of pretty little royal eye candy very seriously. He had to get a bit of pride and amusement from something. 

 Stepping under the burning stream after the night he had felt like stepping into a sacred temple - he was more than eager to purge tonight's events from his body. Sure it wasn’t exactly his healthiest coping mechanism, but the line between what was good for him and what wasn’t had grown so damn blurry that he’d go mad trying to solidify it. There were worse ways to cope. 

 Once the water hit his skin it was like a switch had been flipped. His aching muscles finally relax, his line of sight goes blurry around the edges. He stares at the soap sitting neatly in its shower caddy. He likes that soap. They get it imported from Charmaine just for him - a privilege he'd earned from good behavior. He tells his arm to reach out for it, yet his limbs stay loosely at his side. His eyes stare blankly past the bright colored bottle and soft focus on the tile behind it. It’s rich purple instead of a tasteful eggshell or cream, which meant that Mal had to have had the bathroom remodeled at some point while he was locked up in a cell losing his mind. The first time he saw it was the very same day he'd learned he wouldn't be doomed to spend the rest of his days staring at walls, trying to swallow down crippling loneliness. He'd rolled his eyes. Just like everything else about the dark fae's reign though, it somehow feels right now that he’s used to it. He can't imagine it being any other color. Scorching water batters at his skin, coloring his milky complexion bright pink. It rides the line between oddly pleasant and too painful to stand. He continues to stare. 

 The soap doesn’t get any closer. 

 The familiar feeling of acrylics dragging down his spine - just hard enough to hurt without actually leaving a mark - shakes him out of his trance. He turns, a smile immediately tugging on his lips. Audria Rose's soft smile is reflected back to him, her mocha eyes framed with smoky purple glitter. Mal’s purple is streaked across her neck in carefully painted claw marks, climbing up her face and framing her soft features. The lines are much too precise for the queen to have used her fingers, Mal must have used one of her beloved paintbrushes to decorate her. He knows for a fact that she was sporting Evie’s colors on her clothes earlier, but here and now she’s as naked as the day she was born. Looking at her like this, gentle and happy and brighter than the sun itself, he can understand why some people pray. 

 He’s immediately leaning down to kiss her, thanking every deity that would listen when her lips happily meet his. It wasn’t by any means sweet or chaste - neither of them were even close to sober enough to entertain the notion - but it was languid and loving, if not a bit sloppy. Despite his urge to grab and grasp at every inch of exposed and perfectly slick skin in front of him, Chad’s hands stay resolutely by his side. Audrey is in charge. The former princess - who always did enjoy calling the shots - seldom got a chance at control in much of anything anymore. So like always, Chad allows Audrey to set the pace. Enjoys the feeling of her gentle hands trailing up his paint stained torso, all the way up to the expanse of his chest. Her acrylics just barely linger over his nipples, a pressure so light it’s practically cruel. He shudders, wanting desperately to fall into her skin and drown there. To lose himself forever in her touch. 

 She chuckles - it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard - and trails her hands back down his body. One of her hands finds his, and guides it to her hip. He revels in the touch, gladly exploring the small patch of skin he’s been granted. She taps his other hand and he takes the hint, mirroring the gesture so he had a firm grip on both her hips. He can barely stop himself from rolling his eyes into his head. She makes a breathy noise of satisfaction and all his self restraint seems to disappear. He makes a noise like a wounded animal, leaning down fervently to kiss her again. They slot together like a lock and key. She taps the back of his head and he takes the silent permission to begin kissing down her jawline until he arrives at her neck, where he worships the skin like a sinner desperate for redemption. He breathes her in like air, grips at her like she's the very blood that runs through his veins.

 “Beautiful.” He whispers breathlessly. If he doesn't verbalize himself he may keel over and die where he stands. It'd be a hell of a way to go.

 “Chad.” She says in that same breathy tone and he groans, completely beside himself with want. The slow familiar grind of their slick bodies together is damn near enough to make him tumble over the edge. He's desperately pent up these days - between the extensive training regiment they were on in an attempt to gain back all the muscle and skill they'd lost in captivity, and the physiological torment they were being put through because all four of their benevolent dictators had a nasty sadistic streak and a sick sense of humor to match, they didn't exactly have a lot of time for stuff like this. Funny how that worked. And as if regular good old fashioned hormones weren't enough, Jay and Evie were both diabolically attractive freaks whose weapon of choice was pure, concentrated, unbearable sexual tension followed by abrupt cruel denial. The amount of times Jay had gotten him all riled up only to leave him panting and sick with want had to be considered physiological warfare at this point. Always with some muttered bullshit about how he could earn more if he behaved.

 As if he didn't spend every moment of every day trying to fucking behave.

 “Gorgeous.” He says into her warm skin, mouthing over old hickies, ones he didn't give her. He wonders sometimes if he should be jealous - knows it would be completely normal to - but jealousy has never been his thing, and normal got thrown to the wolves the moment he had been dragged out of his dorm on some random tuesday afternoon and found himself in a cell come nightfall. He couldn't give less of a damn who else was pleasing her, as long as she was pleased and as long as he still got the privilege. Besides who was he to judge when he had bruises of a similar caliber climbing up his own neck. “Beautiful fucking princess.”

 Audrey pushes the heel of her palm into his chest, and he drops his hands immediately, stepping back and putting a few inches between them. No matter how pent up he was, the universal signal for ‘stop’ was blazingly obvious, and he'd sooner chop off his own dick than put his needs over hers. He looks at her, all thoughts of skin on skin and the growing heat in his gut grinding to a screeching halt. There's nothing but fear on her face, her eyes blown in a panic he's all too sickeningly familiar with.

 He's confused first, concerned he may have gone too fast or touched something he shouldn't have. Auradonian purity standards were hard to unlearn, and he was willing to go at whatever pace Audrey needed from day to day. He replays the last couple minutes in his mind, free from the hazy lust-drunk filter he was previously seeing through. 

 “Oh.” The realization of what he's done sits heavy in his stomach like a stone. A boner killing stone. A very hot stone that was burning everything it touched and making his guts bubble and churn. 

 “You can't call me that.” She whispers insistently, stating the obvious. The hot water pounding against his back is all too suddenly unbearable, but he can't bring himself to move. His heart quickens in his chest. “I'm not a princess anymore - Chad what if they-” 

 Both of their eyes flit over the door. The closed door - Audrey wasn't like him, she always shut doors behind her, fought for every scrap of privacy she could claw out of their hands. She'd closed the door when she came in. Probably locked it too. 

 They both knew it didn't make much of a difference. 

 They'd been punished for things said behind closed doors before. Sly comments, reckless statements whispered under the false pretense of secrecy. It didn't always happen, sometimes they said something and it was never brought up again, sometimes they got away with it. But when it did happen there usually wasn't any explicit explanation - no one would sit and explain exactly what they'd done. Everyone would just know. Punishment was delivered in subtle cruelty; Carlos would stop pulling punches in training, Jay would withhold his physical affection and his voice would harden over around the edges, Evie would give them the cold shoulder entirely. A couple times their bids for an escort - which they needed to roam the castle - would be denied or ignored, leaving them stuck in their room. Usually until dinner, though one truly chilling time it lasted through the night. 

 That day was particularly terrifying. After an entire day of radio silence, Jay had come by with a familiar tray containing two bowls of oatmeal and four hard boiled eggs with two bottles of water and dropped it off by the front door. Barely even stopped in his stride long enough to knock. By the time Chad opened the door, Jay was halfway down the hall. Chad had been so anxious and stir crazy he tried to catch up to him, but he only got to take two or three steps before Jay stopped him in his tracks.

  “Go back to your fucking room.” Jay didn't even turn around when he said it, didn't even stop. Despite its calmness, his voice lacked its usual flirty inflection, scrubbed from every hint of fondness it once harbored. It sounded like an entirely different person. It made Chad's blood go cold and his heart stop beating. He'd retreated like a wounded animal. An angry Jay was dangerous, and Chad had nothing to defend himself but the hope that his submission would appease. The sound of his voice still haunted him to this day.

 They couldn't sleep at all that night - minds too plagued with the idea of being reduced to captivity once again. The next morning Evie came to get them for breakfast like it never happened. Jay still took his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles like every morning. Chad bid him a polite good morning as usual, but his voice had wavered, tears prickling the corners of his eyes and threatening to spill. Jay had smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

 “Fuck.” Chad muttered, running a damp hand over his face. “Fuck - I'm sorry, my bad Audrey I didn't mean-” 

 “You didn't mean it.” She said definitively, giving him a look.

 “I didn't mean it.” He nods, sounding just as finite. His eyes glance again at the door. “I was just caught up in the moment. I never should have said that.”

 Nothing happens. They both exhale. 

 Audrey sighs, pushing wet hair out of his face with a shaky but nonetheless genuine smile. “You left the party.” 

 “I was escorted out.” He corrects, rolling his eyes. “By our very own local beast.” 

 “Beauty and the bouncer.” Audrey jokes, tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth. He chuckles.

 “Beauty was the bouncer. The only reason I let him drag me out of there is those pretty brown eyes and the stupid massive biceps Carlos has managed to put on him.” 

 “It's like some fucked up kind of trade off.” Audrey shakes her head. “The longer you spend here breaking down under their thumb, the hotter you get. Lonnie's never been more attractive.” 

 He scoffs. “Jane took off her shirt during training last week and I was so distracted I almost impaled myself on Jay's sword. She's got abs now, Auds. She couldn't even style her hair before High Queen Mal started talking to her.” 

 “Training with Jane just isn't fair.” Audrey pouts. Her hand has taken purchase in his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. “Her fae magic is so strong now it's basically a drug. It's some real sick shit, the more I start to like her, the more doped up I feel around her.” 

 Chad could understand the sentiment. “Queen's magic is even worse. When it gets strong enough I can't even think straight. I'm pretty sure I'd nosedive off a cliff if she asked me to. It's scary as hell.” 

 Chad had studied magic back before Auradon was taken over. It was one of his more rebellious hobbies, and perhaps the most dangerous, but some part of him just couldn't leave it alone. It was slow work - magical artifacts were locked up in the museum with only one or two baseline fun facts to supplement the excessive narrative that magic was dangerous and unpredictable. Books that went into the details of magic were either restricted, vague or blatant propaganda. Fae magic was basically impossible to learn about outside of word of mouth - it was way too powerful for Adam's taste, and so information about it was greatly suppressed. Despite his best effort, the only reason he'd learned anything at all was because he went to Jane and asked, and even she only had the limited information her mom was willing to share - that is to say the bare fucking minimum.

 After spending so much time in the dark, morbidly curious and thirsting for knowledge, Chad was practically salivating to learn. Fortunately for him, knowledge seemed to be the one privilege Mal didn't believe in taking away. He'd been starved, sleep deprived and beaten, but he couldn't remember a single time he'd been denied access to a book. As long as someone was willing to escort him to the library - and someone usually was - he had the entire massive collection of books inside the castle at his disposal. Books on magic were in abundance with Mal on the throne - the queen spent a good portion of her time teaching Jane magic, and even more time studying it. With the ban on magic lifted, it was easier than ever to import once forbidden books and resources.

 He'd started small, afraid his interest could be misinterpreted as rebellion. If Mal thought he would even consider trying to find her weakness and exploit it, his newfound freedom would reach an abrupt and likely gruesome end. He'd approach Jane after her lessons, wringing his hands nervously and softly pleading with her to indulge his curiosity. Jane, a kind soul at heart despite the recent mean streak Mal's teachings seem to pull out of her, gladly agreed. For weeks he'd trail after her, notebook in hand and listen with rapt attention as she went on and on about her lessons. He was under no impression that his little extracurricular was unbeknownst to the queen. He wasn't a total idiot.

 He'd still been surprised when he came back to his room one night to find the fae sitting on his bed, his notebook in hand as she idly flipped through the pages. 

“You're a quick learner.” Mal hummed, licking the pad of a slender finger to turn a page while Chad's stomach dropped to his ass. “And an avid note taker. Is this a diagram?” 

 She was flipping the book over to point at the page, but he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention. “I'm sorry.” 

 “You're not.” Mal seemed to realize he wasn’t going to look and turned the notebook back over, giving it another once-over. “But fortunately for you, you haven't done anything wrong.” 

 His heart started working again, resuming the flow of blood to his brain. Ice cold fear was replaced by confusion.

 Mal chuckled, rising to her full height. She'd gotten taller since the old days. When he first noticed it he thought he was going crazy, or that it was some psychological effect of the perverse power dynamic between the two of them. Recently he learned it was because her magic was growing stronger, and it was shifting her form, much like her new sharpened nails and teeth. She was taller than Chad by now, an observation that made his cheeks shamefully flush. She closed the book and handed it to him.

 “As long as you behave, I'll let you sit in on the lessons. If I catch you trying to practice the magic you learn, I'll rip the very fibers of your mind apart and let the soulless husk that remains loose into the forbidden forest.” She leaned in close, patting his chest. “Understood, Scout?” 

 He shuddered. “Yes, My Queen. Thank you.” 

 “Beautiful. Keep up the good work, hobbies enrich the mind, you know.” 

 Learning about magic directly from the queen of the fae was unironically one of the biggest honors he'd ever been bestowed. Mal made him sit on the floor for the first couple of weeks - always one for a visible power imbalance. Months in a cell had him well accustomed to the floor. He really couldn't care less, not when he was finally finally learning without the heavy weight of censorship. No historical rewrites, no biased framing, no conveniently missing pages or blacked out paragraphs. It was liberating. Everything his nerdy little heart could ever want.

 Fae magic in particular stood out to him. He was sure he'd never learn about it, completely written off the idea. Surely Mal would send him away when the topic came up, there was just no way that the queen of fae would allow her very own spoil of war to even begin to learn about her weaknesses. He was prepared to be cast out of the lesson one day, his body was always slightly tensed in anticipation, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 It never dropped. He would quickly come to realize that Mal didn't give a shit whether he learned her weaknesses or not because she didn't have any. Not any that mattered, none that weren't rendered null and void due to the godly blood pumping through her veins. She wasn't full fae so she could lie just fine. Iron just gave her a mild rash that could be countered with Evie's potions.

 Didn't matter very much to him. Chad was never very concerned with what Mal couldn't do. He found much more interest in what she could.  

 Fae magic was complex, elusive, and over all else, strong. All fae were blessed with enhanced intelligence, strength and speed. Their magic tended to extend outside of the body the stronger it grew, manifesting itself into horns, claws, rows of sharp teeth, glittering wings, and in some cases a couple extra inches in height. They were most known for their trickery, but really it was more like the power of persuasion. Fae magic was practically intoxicating to mortals, even a drop of human blood could make you susceptible. How much sway a faerie could hold over your judgment varied. Your relationship to the faerie, the strength of their magic, your biological makeup and even the time of day mattered. Taking gifts, giving up your name, eating their food. All of it could send you deeper into a trance.

 And that's just scratching the surface.

 It had to be both the most fascinating and most frightening thing he'd ever witnessed. He'd ever felt. Jane was overflowing with it, not yet able to tamper it down without the help of magical supplements. She hated being on her pills and no one was around to force them onto her, so they sat collecting dust in case of emergency. Her raw uncut magical energy was free to explore, leeching onto everything that would take to it - including the soft and pliable human minds that came too close. 

 Mal's was stronger, more insistent. More often than not, very intentional. The way a fae views a person also affects how much power they hold over them. Chad was a possession, and so when prompted her magic had no problem wiping his mind of all logical thought and leaving behind a pleasant, mindless, foggy haze. It used to happen more frequently. Any time his dry humor was less than appreciated, or he hesitated too long to obey an order, his mind would suddenly go blank and all cohesive thoughts would become so distant that he couldn't string a sentence together if he tried. She'd let it linger for a couple of minutes before it wore off and he was properly cowed. Mal often likened it to picking up a fallen book, or straightening a crooked painting. Correction. 

 It wasn't until later that he discovered she could deliver it in smaller doses. Complete mindlessness was traded in for a gentle imposed calm. Thoughts took longer to form, making it harder to overthink. And the haze was never unpleasant to begin with. It was much more manageable and way less creepy. He even asked for it sometimes, grateful for a chance to just breathe and be. Mal was happy to indulge him if he behaved.

 He's far from that mindlessness at the moment. Thoughts ran at a mile a minute as he stared at Audrey, eyes tracing her wet hair down her damp body. Her hair looked much healthier now that they'd been out of captivity for so long. Its fullness had finally returned. His gaze rises back to her face as she studies him in turn. Her eyes are beautiful.

 “Are we in a fairytale?” It's sudden - random - but the words spill out of his mouth before he has the good sense to stop them. He - like every other kid across the United Kingdoms of Auradon - had always dreamed of being remarkable enough to star in his very own fairytale. One fit for the storybooks. He'd lost some of that childish whimsy when he grew old enough to grasp the clusterfuck that was the current political-sphere, but there was still a bit of that naive hope.

 Audrey laughs, harsh and a little mean, but that's her real laugh - the one that's not been practiced in the mirror and scrutinized by her bitch grandmother - so he doesn't mind. “Yeah. A really fucked up fairytale. Something long, poetic and stockholm-y.” 

 “A novel then.” He supplies, leaning into it. “A classic. We're the long-suffering tragic heros, damned by our own hubris.” 

 “Yeah Chad.” She cups the back of his neck, pulling gently until they’re face to face. She presses her warm, plush lips to his. “That's what we are. Tragic, tragic heros.”

 “Come face to face with terribly beautiful villains.” Chad says wistfully. “It’s what we deserve, I guess.”

 “What, are you high?” There's no judgment in her voice as she reaches around him, grabbing the soap and his washcloth. She squeezes a sizable amount onto the damp towel, rubs it together to get a good lather and begins to drag the fabric against his skin. 

 “Funny, Ben asked me the exact same thing.” One of Audrey's hands rests on his hip while the other meticulously scrubs away the body paint climbing his stomach. It's grounding and also one of his favorite feelings in the world - her bare skin against his. He'd sooner give up his right to walk than his right to this.

 “Why'd you…” She trailed off, though her busy hand never stopped moving. This paint was not easy to remove, it was made to survive the test of sweat, liquor and other varying party fluids.

 “I didn't.” He said testily. Guilt was immediately biting at his heels, but the words still clawed their way up his throat. “I didn't do anything, what the hell was I supposed to do about it?”

 Audrey pulls her lips into a tight line and says nothing. She dutifully scrubs at the paint as they let the sound of water drown out the silence. 

 VKs, generally speaking, didn't like Chad. He'd been cussed at, spit at, threatened, mocked and belittled more times than he could count under this new world order. Belonging to the crown helped - it meant they couldn't follow through with those threats - but it was still glaringly obvious that to most VKs he was not a person. What he was instead depended solely on which one you asked. He was a symbol to some, the very representation of the oppressive backwards system that resulted in their robbed childhoods and bloody hands. To others he was nothing, the dirt under their boot, a rock they'd kick aside on the street. To some he was the spoiled dog of the crown, in desperate need of being knocked down a few pegs, as if Mal would ever let him keep a shred of his dignity. 

 All of it unpleasant, most of it irreversible until he could prove himself, but he could deal with it. He wasn’t a child anymore. He could deal with scorn, hatred and violence. Nothing any VK could threaten or wish upon him was worse than what Mal or Carlos could, would and have done to him. It all paled in comparison. No one was crueler than the monarchs that held his leash.  

 No, what really made his blood boil were the ones who saw him as a novelty. A toy. Something to poke at and play with and harass. There was a subsection of very bold VKs who looked at Chad and saw this fun little game they could play, where they get to make him as uncomfortable and unsettled as possible and he just had to take it. 

 Unfortunately for him, there were plenty of that particular brand of VK in attendance to damn near every party he'd been dressed up and forced to attend. Usually he was pretty good at avoiding them, or at least cutting his unsavory interactions with them short. Last night's guest had been particularly determined though. Had boxed him into a corner and talked his fucking ear off, flirting, pushing more alcohol onto him, offering him small colorful pills with the promise of loosening him up, laughed at him when he tried to turn them down. She'd even managed to find a way to touch him, a feat not many outside of his four wardens could manage. The crown was pretty strict about that particular rule; no one touched what belonged to them. But this woman, she would stumble into him, ‘accidentally’ graze his hand with her own, reach out to grab imaginary debris from his hair.

 And it's not like Chad could have pushed her off. Chad had no rights, he had no status, he had no power. He was a pawn and an accessory to the crown, a shiny trophy, and this woman had grown up on the fucking Isle. If it came down to a physical altercation, he would lose, and he would lose miserably. And then he'd be making a scene without permission, and then he'd open himself up to whatever punishment Mal could cook up for him. He'd much rather deal with a few unwanted advances. 

 Except the holders of his leash were territorial as shit, and it was now somehow his fault he had spent a quarter of the night being harassed. Because of course it fucking was.

 Maybe he was a bit irritable.

 His skin was pink and tender by the time the last specks of gold were lost down the drain. Audrey's slender fingers linger around his throat, applying a gentle pressure in the way that reminds him painfully of Jay. He relaxes into it. Her other hand snakes behind his back, dragging the soapy cloth along the skin with small circular motions, thorough and gentle. He presses his face into her neck, sighing deeply.

 “I'm sorry.” He mutters into her warm skin, shame making his face flush.

 “It's not your fault.” She hums simply.

 “Not yours either. I shouldn't take it out on you.” 

 Audrey laughs - snorts actually in a way that would most certainly result in a lecture from her grandmother if the bitch was still around to nag.

 “Babe, if that's your version of taking it out on me, I think we're good. I've been suffering through dysregulated royals and their misplaced anger since I was old enough to raise a mascara wand to my eye.” She scratches her nails against the base of his neck, still applying pressure so it's just barely painful. His knees buckle just like when Evie does it to him. “You're more like a little kitten that's meowing in fury than anything else.” 

 He grunted in disagreement. “A dog. You know ‘m a dog.” 

 “A puppy.” She concedes, pressing a kiss into the hot skin of his neck. “I'm here. Whatever happens tomorrow I'll stand by your side.” 

 He sighs, squeezing her once before disengaging himself from her. He looks into her eyes and his entire world stares right back at him. “You can't defend me.” 

 She rolls her eyes. “Chad don't do this.”

 “No, Audrey, I'm serious. If I get punished, it's gonna be my punishment to take. Not yours. Don't defend me, don't stand up for me, don’t try to argue or barter, just let it happen.” 

 “I can't do that.” She says fiercely, eyes on fire. This firecracker, this brick wall of a woman, always ready to go to bat for him. Chadwick Charming the doormat and Audria Rose, the fucking sun.

 “Please.” 

 “You know I can't.”

 “Audrey please.” He says even though he already knows he’s losing. That this argument was doomed from the start.

 “Chad. I will always choose to suffer with you. I'd walk through hell with you before I went to heaven without you. You'd do the same for me.”

 “Just-” There’s tears catching in his eyes because he would. He would - has - done anything in his power to share her load as much as he could. He’d gone to bat for her. He’d taken punishments for her - begged and pleaded with their captors to be hurt instead of allowing harm to befall the one good thing in his life. How could he tell her not to do what they’d always done for each other? What right did he have? “If they tell you to stand down, you yield. At the very least.” 

 “I can’t promise you that.” There’s tears choking her voice up, and it’s like a knife to his heart.

 “Promise not to trade with me then.” He pleads. “Swear it. The very bare minimum; all I’m asking from you Audrey, is that you don’t offer yourself up to suffer while I have to stand by unscathed. While they make me watch, and then I have to hold you and pick up the pieces after Audrey that is worse -” his voice catches and he takes a moment to compose himself. “That is worse than anything they can do to me. Nothing is more painful. Nothing is Audrey, so please don’t. If it gets to that point, you yield okay?”

 Audrey frowns, eyes glassy and looking like she wants to say so much more. Instead she reaches for his hand and he supplies it easily. “Okay.” She says.

 “Yeah?” He brings their clasped hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her skin. 

 “Yeah. You have my word.” She looks crestfallen and it tugs viciously at his heartstrings, but he can’t help but feel instant relief at the solemn promise. There really was nothing worse than watching Audrey take a punishment for something he had done - it was one of the cruelest systems Mal had ever presented them with. He knew it tore her up just the same when the tables were turned. 

 He wills his breathing to even out - there’s no point in getting himself so worked up about something that hadn’t even happened yet. With the air properly returned to his lungs, he grabs another washcloth, douses it in a generous amount of soap, lathers it until it produces suds and starts the reverent process of scrubbing Audrey clean of the purple climbing up her chest. 

 “Jane said it was pretty bad.” Audrey whispers, her voice carefully dry.

 “You talked to Jane?” A disbelieving laugh spilled past his lips. One of his hands rests in the groove of her waist while the other works steadily at its task. Purple tinted suds trickle down the drain as inch after meticulous inch of tawny brown skin is left unmarked. “I can’t fucking believe it - I’m castle gossip. Again.” 

 “Yeah,” Audrey laughs too - bless her and her similarly fucked up sense of humor. “She said that woman even managed to touch you.”

 Annoyance settles deep in his core and threatens to poison his bloodstream until all he’s capable of pumping through his veins is pure toxin. “That bitch touched my fucking hair.”

 Audrey’s hand flies down to grip at the one currently cleaning her. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

 “I wish I was!” Chad huffs, bringing his non-soap-riddled hand up to push her hair out of her face in a mockery of what the rotten bitch had done to him, adopting the condescending lilt of her tone. “You’ve had the same speck of sauce or somethin’ in your hair for the past 20 somethin’ odd minutes - it’s drivin’ me crazy.” He runs his fingers through the same spot a couple times, silently seething as he recalls the words. “ I can’t believe someone as prissy as you used to be didn’t notice. You must be used to things spilling near your face now, huh? Still you’d think the crown would keep their prized pooch well groomed.  Tell her Majesty I said you’re welcome.”

 “She didn't,” Audrey gaped.

 “She fucking did! Light sake, do you know how pissed off King DeVil is gonna be?” He ran a hand through his own hair, practically sick with frustration. 

 “Yeah, Jane said he was pretty pissed off. All of them actually - said Queen Evelyn looked over and the smile on her face just dropped. Apparently King Jay almost caused a scene - the High Queen herself had to reel him in, but she wasn’t thrilled either. You know - allegedly.” 

 “Fuck.” He groans, low and long suffering because of course the four of them were all pissed off at him at the same time. The no touching rule was put into effect immediately after he and Audrey had been taken into the castle full-time. It was a policy they shared with the birds - they were property of the crown and as such they were valuable, coveted and above all untouchable. Don’t go around touching other VKs without permission, go straight to one of them if the opposite happens. No exceptions. The royal court was possessive if nothing else, fiercely protective over their own, and like it or not Chad was one of theirs now. 

 And it just had to be his fucking hair - probably one of the worst places she could have let her boldness lead her to explore. Chad would have honestly rather she’d grabbed him by the hand than repeatedly run her fingers through his hair. His hair was their domain, which was the very reason it was so well looked after. In captivity his hair had grown long and wild. With none of the typical products he used to keep them shiny and bouncy, it had grown dull and matted. Once he was released, he was given hair product again, but he'd been instructed by Evie not to cut it. In fact, the queen spent plenty of time checking on the state of his hair - asking him questions about his old routine, giving him potions for damage reduction, having him switch products when they weren't giving her the desired effect and going as far as to take notes in a physical journal about his progress. Audrey had a good chunk of hers cut off right after they'd been let out of their cell - leaving it shoulder length - but was given otherwise similar surveillance and maintenance with the added condition that she wasn't allowed to straighten out her natural curl pattern anymore. Something about heat damage. He'd chalked it up to her wanting to thoroughly erase the markings of captivity from their person - it was supposed to be a secret that they'd been held in the castle after all, they were supposed to be spokesmen for the people. 

 He knew now it was because they'd always planned on keeping him and Audrey - or at least they'd planned to for a very long time. It was one of the first markers of control they'd planted.

 He still wasn't permitted to cut his own hair. Evie would give him a trim when his split ends got bad, but that was rare considering the extensive hair care routine she had them on. Their bathroom was crammed with so many oils, potions and creams between the two of them it was absurd. He had the longest hair after Doug - who didn't cut his hair because of dwarfian traditions and had the genetic advantage. It took a little getting used to seeing as he'd never kept his hair past shoulder length before, but he didn't mind it nearly enough to bother arguing about it. He kinda liked it if he was honest. The long hair suited him, similar to how the mid length did Audrey many favors.

 His villainous overlords fucking loved it. 

 Evie loved to sit him down and work the oils into his hair herself, scratching gently at his scalp and muttering how pretty he was. Something about not having access to real dolls on the Isle. Not with hair she could brush and style like his. Jay liked to rest his hand at the nape of his neck and let his fingers wander up into his hair - to lead him down a hallway, or keep him still so he didn't fidget in a meeting, even just a present reminder who was in charge when they cuddled or kissed. Carlos was obsessed with grabbing handfuls of his hair and pulling. It started in captivity - as a way to grab his attention or force eye contact or correct a behavioral problem - and never really stopped. He'd grab a good handful at the root and tug him like he was on a leash, even if he hadn’t particularly done anything to displease him. In his gentler moods, he'd scratch at his scalp or run his fingers through his hair. Chad learned to enjoy both sides of the coin. 

 Even Mal liked to bury her fingers in his roots and rest her hand at the top of his head when he was sitting at a low enough vantage point. Which was often - he was rarely afforded a chair outside of mealtimes and meetings, and even the latter was sometimes spent with him sitting idly on the floor. Her nails were too sharp for her to idly scratch at his scalp like the others, if she didn't focus on the task at hand she'd surely draw blood from him - which thankfully she wanted to avoid if not for Evie's sake. So her hand just sat there. Chad suspected she just liked the contrast of his pale soft blond hair and her pitch black nails, sharp as a blade and weapons in their own right. She probably also liked the fact that Chad was able to even remotely relax while she had such dangerous wares so close to such a vulnerable part of his body. Trust, power, control. More of the same shit.

 They were so persnickety about how he touched his own damn hair he couldn't so much as pick the style of rubber band he was permitted to use, and this random fucking D list menace with a twangy accent was sticking her grubby fingers into it and as if that wasn't insulting enough, she was throwing unoriginal, painfully unfunny sex jokes his way while she did it. 

 If they didn't kill him, he was going to kill her. 

 “It had to be the hair.” Audrey voices exactly what he was internally bemoaning. She had plenty of experience in the VK’s odd hair fixation, though she wasn't getting yanked around quite so much thankfully. Not by her hair anyway.

 “She could have kissed me and it would've been more preferable.” He says.

 “Oh, you're so dramatic Chadwick.” He gave a vague grunt of concession and directed his attention back to scrubbing her clean. It was much less stressful.

 The silence between them was familiar and weighty, but not uncomfortable. There was a mountain of things left unsaid - fear, uncertainty, frustration and wisps of resentment all conveyed by a brief moment of eye contact and an audible release of breath. It was a well practiced dance the two of them perfected, from even before this whole mess. Being a royal meant learning how to hide in plain sight, how to communicate without a word. It meant knowing how to adapt.

 Just his luck that he would be stripped of his status, title, properties, assets, home and dignity, and yet still have to traverse the nightmare that was the political-sphere.

 The last of the purple came away under his patient fingers, and his hands continued in their ministrations despite the fact. Usually this is where it would stop. As lovely as it sounded to scrub your lover clean, it was an entirely inefficient process once you moved past the torso area. They had two separate towels for a reason - this is where they were supposed to step back and diverge. Make some casual conversation, bitch about their days, make appreciative comments on their naked bodies that were only gaining more muscle by the day. But today wasn't a usual day. And they weren't talking.

 So instead Chad pays his compliments silently, with the slow slide of his sud slick hands, deliberately covering every inch of her torso he could reach. He trails fingers over the taunt lines of her stomach, over the curve of her hips, and then back up tracing her waist. He makes certain not to miss a spot - as fun as this little game was she'd be pissed off if he did all this and never actually got her clean. She was vocal about her appreciation, humming in contentment under his attention.

 She didn't turn when he'd touched every inch of skin in his immediate line of sight. She raises an eyebrow, a little smirk on her face. Never one to back down to a challenge, he crowds even closer into her space, pulling her body flush to his and reaching around to clean her back, peppering kisses to her neck and jawline. Audrey's hand was at the nape of his neck, her grip firm but not rough, her fingers venturing into his hair. Her acrylics felt nice. 

 After the entire expanse of her back and shoulders was covered in suds, Chad pulled back enough to face her. He glanced down and then back up. He cocked his head to the side. Audrey smiled, and then she nodded.

 “Go ahead baby.” 

 Chad smiled back at her, perfectly content for just a moment to stare in the face of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. The reason his heart beats was standing right in front of him, nude and damp and willing to have him despite everything. For just a moment, he wondered at his luck. And then he lowered himself down, kneeled in front of her and dove face first into his favorite distraction.

 When he'd lapped up every last sound Audrey was willing to offer him, he made quick and gentle work of cleaning up behind himself.

 Stepping out of the shower broke whatever miraculous spell giving him the energy to stand. As soon as the soles of his feet touched the plush bath mat he was boneless, the night of music, alcohol and stress finally weighing down on him. Audrey tutted softly, supporting his weight while they staggered to the mirror. She sat him down on the bench, draping a towel around his shoulders for his hair to drip on and doing the same for her own.

 She hummed a soft tune that sounded suspiciously like her mother's old song while she took two cotton pads, soaked them both in oil based cleanser and took to their faces with it. The make up came away easily, if not a bit messily. He had gold and blue in wild streaks across his face. Audrey had a blotchy red and purple mess. She repeated the process, completely undeterred. When most of their faces were streak free she tossed the cotton pads, and began to lather her hands in foaming cleanser.

 “Close your eyes, love.” She had barely let him follow the prompt before she was rubbing the sudsy solution into his skin in circular motions. She resumed her humming. He relaxed into her hands. This was familiar - her soft hands making patterns on his cheeks, her melodic voice taking root in the forefront of his mind, even the skincare he was used to. Evie gave them a potion to promote clear skin that they took every other morning - it tasted vile and had a sickly pink hue, but he'd taken worse - though effective, it could only do so much at the dosage they were taking, and if they took any more the side effects would start outweighing the benefit. Thus they were required to supplement with an extensive skincare routine. 

 Audrey applied the toners, creams and oils with practiced efficiency and gentle care, then repeated the process on her own face. Their haircare routines were totally different - Chad didn't have a drop of melanin in his body and with the ban on straightening her natural 3c hair, Audrey had about 6 products she used that would absolutely ruin his curl pattern but only seemed to strengthen hers. Regardless, he knew every step of hers, and she knew every step of his, so she had no problem completing them both within the span of a very impressive fifteen minutes.

 He had just enough strength in him to conserve the dignity to dry his own body, but it was Audrey who guided his legs into his satin sleep shorts - which he really thinks he only has because Jay was a massive pervert - and Audrey who has to shimmy a shirt over his head. 

 He holds his own toothbrush to wash the taste of alcohol off his breath and then he kisses her until his head swims.

 “Alright.” She chuckles, her palm resting gently on his chest. “To bed. We have a very interesting day ahead of us tomorrow.” 

 “Interesting.” He repeats dryly, letting himself get hauled to his feet once again. “That's one way to put it.” 

 In bed he draws her to his chest so urgently she may as well be air. “I think,” he wets his lips, frowning into her hair. “I think that I love them. The royal court.” 

 “Me too.” She whispers into his shirt, fingers tracing gentle patterns across his chest.

 “Actually, like really love them. Isn't that so fucked up?” 

 “Yeah.” She agrees. “But I think we were always doomed to. They always get what they want.”

 He can't keep the awe out of his voice. “And they wanted us.”

 They fell asleep in a tangle of limbs and sheets, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. It was a peaceful sleep.

—-----

 The next morning he was much less tired and much more sober, which unfortunately meant the full weight of yesterday's train wreck was finally able to rest squarely on his head. His head that he wants to bash repeatedly into the tiled walls of the shower until the white meat peeks through and his liquefied brains slosh around in his skull. He bravely ignores the urge, groaning softly as he rolls out of bed and pads over to their shared vanity to kiss an already awake, already very beautiful Audrey.

 “I was going to wake you soon.” She says in lieu of good morning. “I figured you deserved to sleep last night off a bit.” 

 To sleep last night off he'd have to fall under Maleficent's curse himself. “Thanks love.” He says instead of saying so. He figures it wouldn't go over well.

 She tips her head back so he can kiss her, and he does. Softly once on the lips, chaste so she doesn't have to endure morning breath. Then again on her forehead. She rights herself, already halfway through her makeup routine, but she isn't looking at herself in the mirror. They're making careful eye contact in the reflection.

 “You're okay?” She asks tentatively, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Terrified actually.” He answers, feeling particularly truthful this morning. “There's this expansive black hole of apprehension and cold dead fear growing in my stomach as we speak.” He gives her outfit a once over. Ruby red and navy blue, her earrings a sparkling gold. “I should rep the dragon today.” 

 “You should.” She agrees. She's trying really hard not to allow her face to betray how worried she is. It almost works - would work for anyone who knew her less. Anyone but him. 

 “No point putting it off.” He sighs, rolling his shoulders, kissing her one last time, this time on the top of her head, and then making his way to the bathroom. His morning breath must really be killer after a night like that.

 He feels a little more human and a little less melodramatic once he brushes his teeth, washes his face and does something decent with his hair. He's decided to let it fall naturally down his shoulders, only adjusting it with a few bobby pins so it framed his face better. He'd briefly considered putting it up, but he quickly dismissed the thought just as soon as it arrived. His hair would be pulled this morning, he was certain of it, and he'd very much like to avoid being dragged around the castle by a ponytail if he could help it. Even the bobby pins were at the risk of being torn out and lost to time forever, so he'd used plain ones instead of any decorative ones he'd been gifted.

 It was a shame really, playing into Evie's odd doll fixation would be pretty useful at the moment. 

 The goal for today's outfit is ass kissing, to an absolutely, undeniably, bordering on desperately shameless degree. Was it pathetic? Obviously. But that wasn't going to stop him from catering to as many of their weird little quirks and preferences as possible - not when it had such a brilliant track record of lessening his consequences. He opts for black leather pants instead of khaki, despite the fact that he literally has to jump to get material over his thighs. Mal and Evie always talked about him looking delectable in tight leather, so gets a pair as tight as he can manage without hindering himself during training, which would not only piss Carlos off, but also put him at a dangerous disadvantage. Ben had a nasty right hook with all that beastly strength, and they weren't allowed to hold back. Plain black tank top today - tight to his frame with the added benefit of no sleeves so that his tattoo is proudly on display like the brand it was. There's been a couple times where he'd been made to pull his sleeves up to show off the mark of the dragon, and they all seemed pleased whenever  he would wear something that cut out the middle man. After the resentment wore off he could admit it was a pretty cool tat all things considered - Mal was a talented artist, the colors were vibrant and the linework was flawless. Keeping in line with the theme, the vest he selects is a deep purple with striking green claw marks curving around his sides. The leather of the vest sinks in where the claw design is, and the green underneath sparkles in a way that almost looks like the emerald glow of Mal's magic. It's a custom piece that Evie made herself.

 Next comes accessories. A pair of silver earrings shaped like bones that he was ninety eight percent sure Carlos gifted him just to humiliate him, but he wore semi-frequently anyway because the tech genius seemed to get a sick kick out of it and Chad was starving for any drop of approval he could get from the man. He had another pair, gifted about a month and some change later that looked similar save for a cluster of small shimmering ruby shards that made the bone look like it had been freshly ripped from its suffering victim, but that also meant they were subsequently both more expensive and more thoughtful than the last pair. They likely had to be commissioned, and Chad found himself weirdly touched by the gift, seeing it as a sort of odd stamp of approval. Like he'd been promoted from something to be displayed to something to be shown off. The only reason he didn’t wear those today is because they didn't match his outfit.

  Necklaces were a no-go outside of parties and ceremonies - they were too easy to grab and Chad wasn't nearly trained enough to defend himself in the case of a terrifyingly likely attempt on his life. Chokers were usually fine, and Chad did have a few, but that came with the same apprehension as the ponytail fiasco, except being led around by a band snaking around his neck sounded even more mortifying . He slid on the fingerless gloves that Jay loved so much, a handful of rings and a couple of bracelets Evie had gifted him, including the one embedded with Mal's magic that alerted them if he was to ever be in danger or try to leave the castle.

 “You look hot.” Audrey hums after she herds him away from the closet and onto the bench in front of their vanity. She hadn't said a word as she wordlessly began his makeup routine, and he'd been both helpless and unwilling to stop her. She's currently using an impressively steady hand to carefully pencil eyeliner along his waterline. He knows how to do it himself, but that's besides the point. He's pretty sure Audrey just wants an excuse to touch his face - to remember he's here and unharmed - and he's more than happy to let her.

 “So do you.” He smiles despite himself because she really does. She's wearing blue leather pants with a detachable trim that flares behind her like a skirt, colored a stunning deep red. Her shirt is the same dark blue as the pants, decorated with zippers and buttons, the only spec of red being a sole poison apple motif sitting right above the breast pocket. It's so tight it looks like it needed to be poured on her. “You look like you really want a certain Queen to kiss you.” 

 Audrey glares, but she's also blushing, which is adorable so he can't manage to be too intimidated. “And you look like you want a replica of those claw marks down your back.” 

 “The vibe I was going for is ‘I'm sorry someone touched me, but trust me I remember I'm yours, you make it pretty damn hard to forget’.” He flashes her a smile that he knows doesn't quite reach his eyes. “But I wouldn't mind what you said.”  

 She kisses him, slightly more indulgent now that his breath smelled like mint instead of stale booze and regret. “I’m sure they'll be much too enticed to be mad.” 

 Evidently Audrey is not in a very honest mood this morning. They'd seen first hand that the High Court of Auradon were quite capable of being both enticed and incredibly pissed off. Chad ignores that in favor of another kiss.

 No sooner than the mascara had been capped was there a knock at their door. Chad raised an eyebrow.  Knocking meant there was a bird at the door - he couldn't remember the last time a VK knocked.

 “It's unlocked.” Calls Audrey as she pushes to her feet. At her acknowledgement the door opens up to Jane, who smiles warmly at them both. Chad exhales.

 “Morning Audrey, morning Chad.” She waves, taking a moment to look them both over appraisingly. “You both look like total smokeshows. I'm glad you're dressed. I've been sent to escort you.” 

 And to think this fae was once shy. He can't help but chuckle. “Just let me finish this up and I'll be set.” 

 Jane's smile faltered, something veering dangerously close to pity in her eyes. Her magic started to send waves of calm through the air, already attempting to soothe them. “They actually only sent me for Audrey. They want you to wait here.” 

 His heart stopped beating. “Oh.” 

 “I'll stay here too then.” Audrey says immediately, her posture already stiff and determined. 

 Jane frowned. Her obvious displeasure leaked into her magical signature, contradicting the calm she was trying to encourage until it soured over to intense unease. Immediately she fixes her mistake, but her frown remains. 

“Yeah, I guess it's not surprising you'd say that. Look Audrey, I'll level with you. I'm under orders to leave this room with you in tow and not to let Chad follow. And I like you, I really really do, but not enough to disobey a direct order.” 

 “I understand your allegiance to your duty.” Audrey concedes. She doesn't sound even angry, just very driven, which is scarier in his experience. “And my allegiance is to Chad. I won't just leave him and you can't make me.” 

 “I can.” Jane says very matter-of-factly, though there's empathy in her eyes. “I'm the most powerful light fae of our time, and I'm apprenticing under the most powerful dark fae of our time. I was pretty good at getting what I want before, but with my magic in tact and unrestrained, my powers of persuasion are strong enough to get you to take a nosedive into a volcano with a smile on your face. I can make you leave if I really want to.” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. She was so small and yet just brimming with dangerous, gorgeous magic. If Chad were more mentally stable he'd find it unnerving. As it stands he just found her beautiful. It was becoming a pattern at this point. “I just really don't want to. And I don't think you want to spend breakfast too doped up on magic to even remember his name, much less how he might need you after all is said and done.” 

 “It's that bad?” The words are steam rolling out of his mouth before he can even think. The calming suggestive was really doing its job, but unfortunately that meant it was also dropping the walls he usually built around himself. He was lucky to be able to trust Jane, magic like this would be devastating to an enemy. “Are they that angry?” 

 The pitying look is back again. “They're…they aren't thrilled Chad, but they aren't exactly fuming. I've seen them way angrier.” 

 “How comforting.” He bites his lip. The magic gets stronger, lapping gently at his mind seemingly asking permission to be let through. He relaxes into it, inviting it in and finds he has the ability to take a deep breath again. “You have to go with her Auds. There's no getting around it.” 

 Audrey's frown deepens. “But-” 

 “She can make you. She will if she has to, and none of us want that. One of them will probably come get me after a while. For lunch or something.”

 “They won't make you skip breakfast.” Jane says, sounding pretty sure of herself. “I heard them discussing you earlier, and High Queen Maleficent spoke of talking to you this morning when she sees you. She's got back to back meetings right after breakfast so if you're made to skip she won't actually see you until well past noon. She usually says what she means when it comes to that sort of thing y’know?” 

 Well at least there's that. Despite the anxiety gnawing at his gut like a wild animal he was absolutely starving, and he was wholly unaccustomed to skipping meals now after so long with good behavior. He would put on a brave face for Audrey, but he was pretty sure his stomach would eat himself if he'd earned himself a morning without breakfast.

 And that anxiety was rising as he watched Audrey and Jane face off, all hard lines and clenched fists, magic like gentle rainfall filling the room, the familiar feeling of it crawling up his back and leaving warmth in its wake. Her magical signature was swelling, an intimidation technique not unlike Mal and her staring contests. Audrey did not falter. An unstoppable force against an immovable object. Audrey was the strongest woman he knew, for as long as he could remember. She was bold, bordering on brazen, stubborn as a mule, calm and collected under pressure, clever and witty, always one step ahead of everyone. A lesser woman would have crumbled under all she's been through; a loving but absent father, a mother so lost in her own mind she couldn’t bother with her own child, a grandmother with mile high expectations and a cruel tongue. She'd carried all that, along with the weight of two kingdoms on her shoulders, only for it all to be ripped away, for her to spend endless months in cold dark solitude and still come out of it just as fierce. She was fucking amazing.

 And then there was Jane. Who had always been too driven for her own good, and more clever than anyone would ever give her credit for. Jane who decided early in the game, years ago, that she was sick of living in the shadows, of hiding away her nature, who had always been kind, but was tired of being nice. She'd carved out a place for herself in this new world order, not long after Ben and much more intentionally than the half-beast could ever manage. Jane had proven herself to be strong, powerful, and most surprisingly, the tiny fae with the soft spoken shy demeanor and conservative bob he once knew had proven herself to be ruthless. Chad had watched the change before his very eyes, had seen what she was capable of. Had watched her drive a man mad without even touching him, seen her magic kill. Jane was terrifying and yet she was brave, she was beautiful, she was kind. And unlike her mentor, Jane was no sadist.

 It was the fae who ended up breaking the tense staring contest, smiling softly and extending a hand. “I really don't want to force your hand Audrey. I feel like it would ruin this thing we're starting to have, and I'd hate that. I've really enjoyed getting to know you again. I know you want Chad to be safe. I do too. It's hard to believe it at first I know, but the High Court has our best interest at heart. They won't throw anything his way that he can't handle - if you can't trust them yet, at least trust Chad. We both know he's the most resilient, unshakable man to ever step out of Charmaine.” 

 He was pretty sure she was giving him far too much credit, but he wisely kept that to himself. Jane flexed her fingers, alight with the gentle blue glow of her magic. It was shimmery, reflective in the light as it danced in her hand, absolutely mesmerizing. Apparently it was even prettier to fae and other magical folk; the human eye was simply not complex enough to witness its true form. Despite being unable to look away from it, Chad couldn't feel it. Usually this close up, when the magic was corporal enough to see he wouldn't be able to think straight anymore, if he could even manage a thought at all. Jane was dampening the effects. She was offering a choice.

 “It won't make you forget him.” Jane explained. “It won't even make you forget the trouble he's in. It'll just make the fear easier to cope with until he's in your line of sight again. You'll be calm enough to eat your breakfast, and listen to the morning gossip. And you don't have to take my hand if you don't want to - I just want to make you feel better.” Her gaze shifted slightly, to something more stern than understanding. “But you do have to come with me.” 

 He can see Audrey's resolve faltering at the sincerity. Her eyes flicker back to his and he gives her a small smile. “It's okay Audrey. I'm not ready anyway. You'll see me soon, it's not a crime to calm down. I promise.” 

 She releases a breath, like his permission was lifting a weight off her shoulders. Her hand shakes a bit as she places it in Jane's, who pretends not to notice. Immediately Audrey's shoulders untense, and her other hand, which was previously balled tight in a fist, falls limp at her side. Her frown remains. 

 “I'll see you soon.” She repeats. Thankfully she sounds like she believes herself. She turns her head back to Jane and offers a tentative smile. “Thank you.” 

 “Anytime.” Jane says with a degree of seriousness that again makes him thank his lucky stars she was on their side for the millionth time. She gives him an apologetic look. “Once I get far enough away my suggestive magic will stop working on you. I'm still not the best at making it stick to a person once they leave my presence. I wish I could help more.” 

 “You've helped plenty, Jane.” He says, a familiar fondness in his chest. “I'll see you at breakfast.” 

 The girls shut the door behind them as they go, leaving him alone to his eyeshadow and thoughts. He counts to a hundred and five before he feels Jane's magic drop all at once, and he manages a smile through his first shaky inhale. She beat her previous record by about fifteen seconds. He hopes he can remember to let her know when he sees her later. 

 Breathing quickly becomes laborious as her warmth and peace leave him. He has to fight with his lungs to intake air, his brain full of static as the urge to dissociate crashes into him like an ocean wave. His limbs feel heavy and leaden, his eyes sting. He puts his face in his hand, leans his elbows against the vanity and makes himself breathe. Count and breathe. In and out. Nice and slow.

 Jane was right - which was equal parts comforting and horrifying. They wouldn't inflict something on him he couldn't recover from. Not fundamentally at least. Whatever this was, he would get through it. And then he would find that dumb bitch with the tacky drawl and string her up by her teeth for getting him into this mess.

  Light, when did his thoughts become so violent? 

  He's not sure how much time goes by before he's finally able to get his brain to make that grim promise so he can pick up a brush and finish his makeup, but he figures it must have been a little while. He emphasizes his black eyeliner with a dark blue shimmery eyeshadow - usually the one bit of individuality he was allowed, seeing as he was an official accessory.  His hand barely shakes at all when he puts the brush back down. He crosses his legs. He waits.

 It's not long at all before he hears a knock at the door, and he has just enough time to stand and wonder if a heart really could beat out of one's chest before he realizes.

  A knock? 

  Confusion quickly outweighs fear when he opens the door to a sheepishly concerned Ben. Exasperation soon follows. “I'm not going to let you get in trouble just to check on me Ben.” He says, trying not to sound annoyed as he attempts to shut the door in the idiot's face. 

 Ben's arm comes to stop the door - not his foot because that would be too efficient and make too much sense and Ben could do neither of those things lest he combust - and Chad just barely manages to halt its momentum in time. “I'm here under orders.” He promises. Chad heaves a sigh as he opens the door wide again. He really isn't sure he could handle beautiful morons with a nasty habit of making his heart rate increase in this condition. “I'm just worried.” 

 “Right. Sorry, there's been a lot of martyrdom in this palace lately.” He leans against the doorframe, crossing one foot over the other. “You're here to, uh, what exactly? Escort me to my cell, deliver my eggs and oatmeal?” 

 Ben winces and Chad tries not to feel like the scum of the earth. He's not very successful. “No, to take you to breakfast.” 

 Chad blinks, reminding himself that it's quite rude to stare blankly at your childhood crush, even though he's pretty sure that's what he's doing anyway. “And that's it?” 

 “That's it.” Ben says, looking similarly unsure. “That's all they told me to do at least.” 

 “That.” Chad eyes dart past Ben, into the hallway as if he expects Mal to be waiting there. “That doesn't sound….right.” 

 Ben has the common sense to look equally put off. “Yeah, I'm not sure why they haven't…but hey let's not look a gift horse in the mouth, right?” 

 Chad was really missing alcohol at the moment. He sighs. “Right. Okay, Benny.” He decides to spend his last moments on this earthly plane being bold, looping his arm with Ben's and relishing the warmth that follows. “Let's go to breakfast.” 

 Ben chuckles, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. Chad's face immediately heats by about a hundred degrees and the jerk has the nerve to look pleased with himself. “Let's.”

 The castle is buzzing with life as they traverse the halls. The VKs are throwing some sort of festival, some kind of Isle tradition that he knows nothing about and tries not to worry himself with. Staff are working overtime tending to visiting guests, and making sure said guests aren't stealing anything too expensive. Ben takes him down a less traveled route, which he's infinitely grateful for, all things considered. Though he can hear some clamoring throughout the castle, he barely has to see anybody. 

 Between the lack of villainous voyeurs, and the warm press of Ben's bare bicep on his, his anxiety was starting to subside a bit. Perhaps he could avoid any serious consequences of last night's blunder until after breakfast. Mal would sneer at his direction, give a lecture about following orders and tap him on the wrist. It would be fine. He could at least have a final meal.

 That pipedream died the moment he saw Jay and Carlos swaggering down the hall, unmistakably headed right towards them. Jay was smirking. Carlos was scowling. Chad cursed under his breath. 

 Ben tightened his grip just a fraction despite his attempt at a disarming smile. “Is breakfast over already?” 

 “Nah, we just missed our boys.” Jay winks, barely even glancing at Ben. His eyes rake across Chad's body, and suddenly he feels exposed. He knows he's blushing, and despite being thoroughly mortified he doesn't move to cover anything. Jay's eyes linger on Chad and Ben's linked arms, and then again on the fingerless gloves. Somehow his smirk widens. 

 “You can go Ben.” Carlos says simply, his eyes also zeroed in on their linked arms. “We can walk him to breakfast.” 

 “I can walk with y’all, I really don't mind.” Ben tried, going for casual despite the tension in his shoulders. 

 “We want a word with our pretty boy for a second.” Jay says in a tone that suggests way more than a word will be had. “We'll bring him by after.” 

 “But-” 

 “You're dismissed, Ben.” Carlos says, his voice not quite cold, but definitively firm. It surely leaves no room for negotiation.

 “Okay then.” Ben deflates. Chad tries not to collapse to the ground once Ben is no longer touching him. He'll have plenty of time for pathetic shows of weakness in about three minutes he figures. Ben, for his credit, also looks like the breach in contact physically pains him. He squeezes his shoulder once before stepping away. “I'll see you soon.” 

 “Okay.” He's appalled by how scared he sounds. Honestly this was nothing compared to what he had faced - this wasn't even his fault. Which he could simply explain, with a few well placed tears and flowery words about how it just felt so wrong having someone else touch him. He was not above playing weepy damsel.

 He watched Ben's back as he left, the shining example of a successfully executed weepy damsel. Being in towns and cities during his tour, he heard a lot of things. His job was to sway public opinion after all, and he was good at his job, so he knew all about the things people said. Ben was stupid, naive, love drunk and blind. He was cowardly and weak, this simpering little puppy dragging at the heels of these powerful figures. It was all wrong. 

 Ben had always been good at manipulation. The best manipulators manage to avoid a reputation of being one after all. Ben could cry on cue, could spin a tall tale without even flinching, hell Ben's whole campaign had been carefully constructed to get people to like him. If the general public thought that Benjamin Florian genuinely enjoyed setting up shop in crowded cafes and reading poetry, just to end up flocked with suitors and coat riders flinging himself at him they were sorely mistaken.

 And if Mal and the others thought that clever instinct just went away because Ben loved them, then they were fools. 

 It's Carlos who approaches him first, mouth pulled into a tight line as he stalks forward. Jay lingers back to hug the other wall and watch his demise with a smug smirk. Chad backs up until he hits the wall and he realizes he can't get any further back, feeling very much like a cornered animal at the moment. Carlos doesn't slow, advancing until there’s only a couple feet between them.

 “Sit down.” He says simply. 

 “What?”  Chad's eyes dart around the hall, looking for some context even as his body was already sinking to the floor because as much as he seldom understood Carlos’ orders, he disobeyed them even less. He's still just as confused when his ass hits the ground. The leather doesn't do much to protect him from the chill of the castle floor, and he has to crane his head up to look at his terrifying ruler for further instruction, which might be the whole point. 

 “Stand up.” 

 And his confusion expands tenfold. VKs were allergic to making sense, they repelled logic like water on oil. They got off on confusing him, they had to. 

 He doesn't voice his very valid concerns that Carlos had finally completed the cycle and taken after his mother in her madness because he likes his life. He does raise an eyebrow as he rises to stand on shaky legs though, because he always did bear the curse of expressive features. It was terribly inconvenient when you were scheming and lying all the time like he used to, but he'd managed pretty well.

 He doesn't even rise to his full height for a full two seconds before he gets the monotone order to sit again. He complies with no further questions. He's told to stand again and he begins to wonder if this tedious one man human seesaw is his punishment. That would really suck.

 The second his back is straight again, Carlos raises his own eyebrow. “Oh, so you do know how to follow orders.” He says. Neither of them acknowledge the snorting laughter from Jay's end, but he does take a minute to worry that this would not be the usual good cop bad cop situation. This was looking suspiciously and terrifyingly like a bad cop bad cop thing and Chad was feeling woefully unequipped.

 His back slams against the wall before he can even process Carlos had moved at all, all the air snatched from his lungs with a groan. His head hits the wall hard enough for him to wince in pain, but not so hard he fears brain damage, which means that Carlos was definitely holding back. The man wanted to scare him more than he wanted to hurt him. Still Chad winces, bracing himself for a strike that never comes. Instead when he pries his eyes open he's met with Carlos’ now scowling face an inch away from his. He'd usually have to look down to see Carlos. Despite being strong, lithe and overall terrifying, Carlos DeVil was still shorter than him. However the shorter man had taken a liking to platform shoes lately, and Chad was currently cowering so they were pretty much face to face. Carlos had his forearm pressed firmly into Chad's windpipe, the muscle tense enough to make him anxiously unsure if the pressure would increase. 

 He smells nice, like sandalwood and something expensive. Evie picks his cologne. 

 “Do we have to spray paint ‘property of the crown’ across your fucking forehead, Charming?” Carlos sounds calm, which is never a good sign in Chad's opinion.

 Chad swallows around nothing. “Could've sworn you etched it into my shoulder already, Your Majesty.”

 Carlos glances down at the dragon tattoo sitting proudly on his shoulder, then back again. “You think you're funny.” It's not a question. 

 “Usually you also think so, Sir.” Which is true, but unsurprisingly Carlos is not in the mood to be reminded of the fact. The pressure on his neck gets strong enough that he has to fight to get air in his lungs and he very wisely decides it's time for him to stop opening his fucking mouth because apparently he had some sort of masochistic subconscious death wish. Somewhere behind them, Jay laughs again, much louder than last time. At least one person still thinks he's funny, too bad the person in question is a massive dick.

 “Usually you're not whoring yourself out to the first eager bitch to bat their eyes at you.” Carlos sounds like he was one more clever quip away from letting go of the last shred of self restraint he had and crushing Chad's windpipe. He also sounds dead fucking serious, like he hadn’t just said the most absurd thing Chad has ever heard in all of his unfortunate years of living.

 He's done a lot of things under this new world order; he's lied, stolen, manipulated, and hurt too many people to even count at this point - he'd done anything he needed to do to complete the task he was given, to survive. But Chad Charming had never stooped so low as to whore. Not unless you count his desperate bids for approval from the very four people who tormented and imprisoned him, but he tries not to think about that too often. He can’t hide the look of utter offense on his face. Jay snickers.

 Chad has enough survival instinct to tamper down his immediate response - “Are you fucking serious?” - and remember that his quality of life directly depends on him minding his manners. “She came onto me, Sir. Not the other way around.” She also wasn't the first to bat her eyes, just the most obnoxious. He doesn't say because he values his safety.

 “You let her touch you.” It's an accusation more than a statement.

 “What the fuck was I supposed to do about it?” He says before his brain can catch up with his mouth. Fuck. “Respectfully, Sir I couldn't really -” 

 His backpedaling is cut off completely and abruptly, right along with his ability to breathe as Carlos presses harder. He's not even scowling as he chokes the life out of Chad. He's the very picture of calm, except his eyes which reflect the steely anger Chad knows is brewing inside. Carlos’ temper was notoriously short, his anger notoriously deadly and as Chad's eyesight begins to dim around the edges he wonders if his smart mouth had finally led to him becoming a cautionary tale that mothers whispered to their children about the king’s ire. 

 Carlos grabs a handful of blond hair in the same moment that he lets his forearm off of Chad's neck. Which hurts - he registers somewhere mildly in the back of his head - but he doesn't mind too much, as he's much too busy gulping in greedy mouthfuls of air to fill his burning lungs. Carlos flicks his hand around so his hair wraps around his fingers which tighten and yank, forcing Chad's head closer to his own and making him hiss at the familiar pain. The bobby pins in his hair clatter to the ground, officially lost. 

 “I'm sorry.” He gasps, fighting the urge to reach up and try to lessen the grip on his curls. He knows from experience it will only make Carlos pull harder.

 “You like to piss me off don't you?” The calm does not reach Carlos’ voice. “Huh?” 

 “No!” He insists. Carlos’ fingers twist again and he cries out. “I don't, I promise I don't.” 

 “You do. You have to, it's the only explanation. You get off on pissing me the fuck off Charming, that's why you do it so fucking often.” 

 Chad doesn't reply - has figured out he wasn't meant to. Carlos wasn't interested in an explanation from him, he was interested in him taking a verbal lashing. Which was much preferable to any physical punishment he could think up, so he considered himself lucky in a fucked up kind of way.

 “You let her put her fucking hands on my property.” Carlos says, moving his hand from the back of his head to the front. He runs his fingers through the section of hair that hangs closest to his face - the hair she'd touched. “I am restraining myself right now. I'd like to kick the shit out of you for your fucking ineptitude and your bratty attitude. But I'm not going to.” 

 Unsurprisingly, Carlos tugs on the hair he was previously running his fingers through. “I'm not even going to cut this off. I want to, and you deserve it. But luckily for you Scout, I'm reluctant to fuck up Evie's little dolly, so I'll let it slide this once.” 

 “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He says because he's supposed to. This pleases Carlos enough that he stops pulling and goes back to playing in his hair instead. He guides Chad's head from side to side and he lets him, calming his breathing in the process. Carlos is staring at him, a look of quiet consideration on his face. Chad had seen him stare at blueprints and legislation drafts the same exact way before and he's torn between being unsettled at the scrutiny and some sick sense of pride at being important enough to scrutinize. 

 “I'm dyeing it black.” Carlos says finally. He tugs lightly on the hair still in his hand, just enough to grab attention, not enough to hurt. “And I'm dying this red. You let someone else touch it and I'll burn it off, do I make myself clear?” 

 “Yes, Your Majesty.” 

 “Good.” He drops the hair, looking Chad over once again. He scoffs. “Jay. Get your boy before I get him. I'm not in the mood to play nice right now.” 

 And with that he stalks off, presumably to join the others at the breakfast table. Chad takes a shuddering breath in and releases it slowly. That was Carlos playing nice. He hates that he knows it's the truth, and not some wild exaggeration meant to scare him. That could have gone so much worse - he expected it to go so much worse. 

 He rests his head against the stone wall, taking deep breaths and looking up at the high ceilings. Mal had murals painted on them around the three month mark, he remembers Jay coming to his cell and telling him about it. Grand illustrations of important milestones of history, both light and dark. The one directly above him is a swirling portrait detailing the end result of Mal and Maleficent's mighty face-off. Mal with her eyes glowing green, standing victorious with her mother's head in her hands, holding it up by the horns. It was just as beautiful as it was gory.

 He doesn’t bother to move from his spot, he can feel Jay's weighty gaze, the way his eyes meticulously drag up his body. He'll inevitably just end up crowded up against the wall again anyway. He was perfectly content at the moment to stand there and let Jay stare at him for as long as the thief deemed necessary. Tendrils of excitement are snaking their way up his spine and he tries to tamper them before it shows up on his face and Jay pounces on the weakness.

  Jay finally breaks the silence with a low whistle of appreciation. “Well don't you just look edible.” His boots are heavy, they make dull thuds as he advances on him. “Apology is a good look on you, Scout. Too bad you're in the doghouse right now, I'd love to reward you for looking this good.” 

 Chad takes one more deep breath to steel his nerve before he rights his gaze once again so he can look Jay in the face. He instantly regrets his decision when he sees the hunger in the agrahben man's face. He feels absolutely pinned in place under such a hot gaze and he can already feel blood rushing to his cheeks. “Thank you, Sir.” 

 “Kiss ass.” Jay laughs, and even that is attractive because he's an insufferable bastard, and really dealing with this is a punishment enough in Chad's opinion. Everything else is most certainly overkill.

 “Proper form for someone in the doghouse.” Carlos may not appreciate his attitude, but Jay always had. And Jay liking his attitude was one of the primary reasons Chad was still alive to be in trouble in the first place, so he indulged the thief in banter whenever he could get away with it. He was grateful to be able to keep that piece of his true self.

 “And you were doing so good before last night.” Jay fakes a pout that quickly rights itself into a smirk as he stops a couple inches from Chad. He's so close Chad can feel the heat radiating off of his body. He has to look up slightly to meet his eyes, and that alone makes him a little weak in the knees, especially because he could smell the cologne on him. Different than Carlos’, more woody and amber forward. That and he's wearing a compression top because he's not yet dressed for the day - he doesn't have to be when he's the king - so his arms are bare and he basically looks like walking sex. It's unfair for him to look like that while talking to him like this. Utterly unfair.

 Jay, who has never cared about fairness a day in his life, raises a hand to Chad's face, brushing his thumb over his jawline with a smug glint in his eyes. “You can never behave for too long, can you Chad? Just can't help yourself.” He mutters almost absent-mindedly, voice low. His fingers trace a gentle line up his face and then linger near his brows. Chad suppresses a shudder at the gentle touch, such a harsh juxtaposition to Carlos’ treatment just minutes ago. “What do you think about an eyebrow piercing?” 

 “I think I don't have a choice in the matter.” When Auradon was first taken over he had a grand total of zero piercings. His PR team had forbidden any vaguely “feminine” trait he possessed, including his affinity towards most jewelry. Earrings were completely out of the question. Jay pierced his ears the same day Mal tattooed him. The fact that he'd always wanted his ears pierced was a happy coincidence, considering Jay never once asked his opinion. Even now out of his ever-growing collection of earrings he himself had only picked three of them personally, and even then he had no money of his own so they still had to be approved for him to buy. 

 “You don't.” Jay nods. “But I'm nice enough to pretend to care how you feel anyway.” More like he loves hearing from his own mouth just how readily Chad will bend over backwards just to please him. “So? I think a barbell would suit you well.” 

 Chad wets his lips, staring up at Jay. “Silver?” 

 “Gold facial jewelry would wash you out.” Jay's other hand comes up to hold his jaw. Gently he moves Chad's face from side to side, and Chad lets him, silently preening under the attention. “If I want gold on your face I'll stick to the paint.” 

 “Sounds good.” His voice is a little raspy, he feels parched all of a sudden. “Sounds pretty. You'd know best.” Shameless pandering. Chad's not even embarrassed, doesn't really care as long as Jay keeps touching him like that.

 Jay chuckles, low and mean, and Chad's heart stutters. “Anything for my attention, huh?” 

 Chad flushes brilliantly at being so blatantly called out, and Jay only laughs again. The fingers near his brow glide back down his face to cup his cheek. The hand holding his jaw drags down to his body torturously slow, leaving warmth in its wake and finally resting on his hip. With a firmness that never quite borders into rough, Jay leans forward and the force of his much stronger frame effectively pins Chad against the wall for the second time in the past five minutes. This is decidedly the more enjoyable time. The blood currently rushing through his veins isn't sure if it should continue pooling in his cheeks or if it has other prospects to attend further south.

 “I've got you figured out, Charming. Poor thing. It's not that you're trying to piss us off, we're just not giving you enough attention, huh? That's all you want, a little bit of attention.” Jay slides his fingers under Chad's tank top, introducing his bare skin to the tips of his fingerpads. Chad's breath hitches at the contact - light as it is. “A dog that can't play gets bored, right? Restless. Do you feel restless baby?” 

 Jay leans down, speaking so close to his ear he can feel his warm breath on the outer shell. “Is that why you can't manage to tell greedy bitches with delusions of grandeur to keep their hands to themselves? That they shouldn't touch what's not theirs. You're ours aren't you? You're mine?” 

 “Yes.” He can barely get his voice above a whisper. “I'm yours.”

 “So it's just the attention.” Jay leans back, but only slightly. Only enough to see his face when the thumb of the hand cupping his jaw presses gently against his bottom lip and it falls open with no resistance. Jay laughs again, then he leans down and kisses Chad so fiercely his head spins. He kisses like a brand, hot and all consuming and inescapable, and Chad loves every second of it. Air was overrated, all he wanted was Jay's mouth on his and his hands on his waist and his stupid tight compression shirt on the floor.

 “We just need to give you a little more attention.” Jay breaks off long enough to say. Chad tries to chase his mouth with his own and gets Jay's thumb pressing against his bottom lip for the trouble. He lets it rest there, fighting the urge to dart his tongue out and lap at the digit because despite the heavy fog of arousal clouding his brain, he can sense the other shoe about to drop. He was in trouble after all. Most of the time Jay wouldn't even touch him when he was in trouble this deep. Something was wrong here.

 “Or maybe you're getting too much attention.” Jay presses on, kissing down his jawline. “Maybe with having the cameras, and glamor and personas back, someone is getting a little too big for their britches. Maybe somewhere along the way some of that extra attention is filling your head with dangerous thoughts. Making you feel like you deserve more than you're owed. Maybe that's making you think you can entertain other people.” 

 “I'm not-” A well placed bite fries his brain and shuts him up, but the part of his mind that's still capable of logical thought is screaming. I'm not entertaining anyone. She entertained herself with me. If I could have pushed her away, I would have. Jay bites so hard that the skin is sure to  bruise, and nothing short of a turtleneck would cover it, which he knows is the point, but Jay presses kisses to the inflamed skin afterwards in apology.

 “Maybe you're so desperate to chase that extra bit of attention that you're willing to disrespect your King in order to get it. Maybe you think you can get what you need somewhere else.” When he manages to look in Jay's eyes again there's a malicious glint there that makes his heart stop. That look always meant danger. “Maybe not. Either we don't give you enough attention, or you're getting too much of it from somewhere else and it's making you think you don't need us. Either way, this problem is ending. I'm a pretty reasonable man, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I think you want to behave, Charming, I think you're just having trouble. So I'll tell you what. There are two days left of festival. When someone tries to touch you again - and they will. No VK worth their weight in salt would be able to resist someone as pretty and breakable as you, especially when they just watched some home on the range hick with balls of steel lay hands on you and get away with it.” 

 Chad's eyes drop to stare intently at Jay's chest, the weighty look in his eyes officially becoming too much to bear. Jay angles his face upwards, forcing eye contact once again. He looks so much taller now, it feels like he's looming over him. That probably had something to do with the way Chad was cowering. Why was this more unsettling than his interaction with Carlos? 

 “When it happens, you're going to put a stop to it. Nip it in the bud - I don't care how. You're a very smart pup, Scout, I'm sure you'll figure it out. If you do, I'll take you up to our room later and I'll give you so much attention your brain will melt out of your ears and your voice won't come back for a week. I'll even let you spend the night, Audrey can stay with the birds.” 

 “Oh.” Chad whispers dumbly. That sounded suspiciously like a reward. A very good reward, a reward he very much wanted, but a reward nonetheless. Which wasn't unheard of, he got rewards all the time - the VKs believed in positive reinforcement just as much as they did negative. But he had never been offered a reward after fucking up, and the fact that he was getting such a perfect one offered up to him on a silver platter after the way Carlos was acting was actually fucking terrifying.

 “But if you can't manage that.” Jay's smile is sharp around the edges, that malicious glint prominent in his dark brown eyes. “Then I'm going to separate you and Audrey's rooms and place a curfew on both of you. Let's say, hm 6? 6:30 on weekends. Unless you have an event of course, I'm not unreasonable. That should cut down on some of that extra attention.” 

 Chad jerks immediately, trying to right his posture and get away from Jay's embrace, but the other man is bigger and stronger by miles and seems to anticipate this happening. Jay holds fast and Chad is immobilized, left to choke on his horror in stillness. He and Audrey spend the mornings together getting ready, they walk to breakfast together and then most days they're separated. The training cycle was engineered for efficiency, which meant different sparring partners every couple of days, which meant they were rarely paired together. Most of his microdosing sessions were one on one, and the ones that weren't were never spent with Audrey because it'd be inconvenient to have both dogs sick at the same time if they had adverse reactions. They saw each other at mealtimes, during interviews or public appearances and at night when they were dismissed to their room. That was it.  Jay wasn't just threatening to make them sleep apart. What he was suggesting would effectively separate them. It would cut their time together by more than half, their alone time would be nonexistent. 

 Chad can already feel tears stinging the corner of his eyes. This was worse than any punishment he could have possibly thought of. He'd rather be beaten than have Audrey taken from him.

 “Please.” His voice is this small, wet, pathetic little thing and he can't even be bothered to feel shame. “Please don't.” 

 “Don't cry, baby.” Jay cooes, his voice thick with theatric sympathy. The pad of his thumb moves from his lips to the corner of his eye to wipe away the tears falling slowly. 

 “I'm sorry.” He promises. “I'm so sorry.” 

 “I know.” Light, Chad is so fucked up. He's so fucking doomed. Jay sounds every bit like he's enjoying himself, like delivering this devastating blow to Chad's emotional state and having him reduced to tears in his arms fed a deep sadistic part of his soul. And as much as that makes his stomach turn, all he wants is to stay here. All he wants is to melt into Jay’s arms and cry and feed right into that desire, because Jay is warm and familiar and somewhere along the way something broke inside of him and he started to consider this man safe. Jay was wiping at tears that he had caused and Chad was leaning closer like he was his lifeline.

 “I know baby, you're real sorry, huh?” His voice is so soft it feels like a mockery, but Chad nods anyway, sniffling.

 “I can't…” The words are stuck in his throat, his hands are shaking. He can't live apart from Audrey. He hasn't had to since he'd been locked in a cell, sure that at any moment he'd be led in front of a crowd to have his death televised. 

 “You won't have to if you just behave yourself.” Jay angles down to kiss him, their lips just centimeters away from each other, but he doesn't force them together. He waits. Jay has never once made Chad kiss him. It was the one thing he always had a choice about. Chad connects their lips with a desperation he hasn't known in months. Jay makes a pleased hum in the back of his throat, and it lights a fire in Chad's gut, but he just keeps pressing in like a man starved. The kiss is every bit a mark of ownership, just like the purpling bruise on his neck and the vibrant dragon on his arm, and the sparkling jewelry in his ear. And despite the fear coursing through his body like ice in his veins, he loves every second of it. 

 It's Jay who breaks away first, dragging Chad's body flush to his and speaking in his ear again. “Make me happy, and I'll give you the world.” The anger that Chad knows is there finally peaks through in his tone. “And if you ever think you can entertain some low rank, second rate fucking wannabe ever again, you remember that I can take the world away from you just as easily.” 

 Chad shakes in his arms, his hands bunching at every scrap of fabric he can find. He has to hold something or he'll fall apart. Anyone could walk past them right now and see him breaking into a million pieces right here in the arms of the king. “Okay.” 

 “C'mon baby, you know what I wanna hear.” Jay puts a hand on the back of his head, his fingers scratching gently at his scalp, letting his tears wet his shirt. 

 “Yes, My King. I promise, I can make you happy.” 

 “I know you can. You do it everyday.” That only warms his heart and makes him cry harder, because he's the most pathetic man to walk the planet. How was he ever going to run a kingdom if he broke apart like this? He's not even strong enough to hate the man who destroyed his life. “Shh, it's okay, let it out. Let it out, and then I'll walk you down for breakfast. I'm gonna pierce you after.” 

 He cries until his throat hurts and his eyes are dry. Jay wipes his tears away without smudging his makeup, kisses the top of his head and then walks him down the hall by the nape of his neck like a scruffed puppy. Mal doesn't lecture him at breakfast. She takes one look at his red-rimmed eyes, and his anxious fidgeting and throws an approving look Jay's way with a smirk. The thief gives a two finger salute back, looking more than pleased with himself. Evie slides a cup of hot tea his way, and it's intercepted by Jane who adds two heaping spoonfuls of sugar and a squeeze of lemon before floating it over to his placemat. When he thanks them, his voice is a raspy mess that even he winces at. Audrey's eyes burn a hole in his head. 

 He isn't hungry at all anymore, but he still dutifully lifts his fork to his mouth in lagging mechanical motions when Carlos gives him the one word order to eat. The food tastes like nothing, but he chews and swallows all the same until the plate is empty. He doesn't speak again throughout the entire meal, but he does let a few tears roll down his face.

 Audrey hugs him after breakfast while Ben and Doug hover anxiously around the two of them, obviously curious as to what's going on. Chad holds Audrey so tight he's almost scared he'll crush her, and then he has to let go so he can follow after Jay, who true to his word, comes to escort him away right after he finishes his meal. Mal comes with them to the renovated king's suite that they've taken over and immediately sinks her magic into him. His muscles laxen in forced calm and he sits perfectly still as Jay strikes a needle through his face and slides a small barbell piercing in, muttering praises that warm his face.

 Mal grabs his face to move his head from side to side, digging her sharp nails into the tender flesh of his cheeks which isn't at all necessary because he doesn't even begin to put up a fight, but he knows the dark fae has a bloodlust that was truly frightening and he considered himself lucky that this was the worst he saw of it lately. Her nails were even dulled slightly so she must not be too upset with him. 

 They both spend a good couple of minutes admiring Jay's work before they finally produce a hand mirror and let him see for himself. The skin around the metal is slightly raised and a bit red, but the actual barbell is pure silver and remarkably shiny. Chad pokes gently at the piercing, even though he knows he really shouldn't, but they both let him so it can't be too bad for it. It won't make it reject or anything.

 “How do you like it, Scout?” Jay asks, sounding suspiciously like he actually cares about the answer. “Does it live up to your expectations?” 

 “It's pretty.” He affirms. It's funny, looking at his own reflection in front of them he almost feels shy. “Thank you Sir.” 

 “You're welcome, pretty boy.” Jay snorts, gently prying the mirror away. 

 “It suits you.” Mal says approvingly, nodding her head. She shifts her attention to Jay. “We should stick his ear again.” 

 “Another day.” Jay promises. When he looks at Chad again, his eyes dance with mirth. “He's under some emotional distress today. ‘Sides, Los still wants to dye his hair and stuff.” 

 “I heard you two did quite a number on our boy in blue.” Mal sounds every bit as amused as Jay had been in the moment. The mischievous nature of fae really scared the shit out of him sometimes.

 Jay makes direct eye contact with him, all the playfulness drained from his face. “I meant what I said.” 

 “I know.” He whispers.

 “Don't disappoint me, Scout.” 

 “I won't, Sir.” Failure wasn't an option for him. Not with stakes this high. He was going to make Jay happy if it fucking killed him.

 Jay smiles again, ruffling his hair. “Good boy. Sit tight, Los and Eves should be here soon.”

 Chad watches him walk away, disappearing into the huge walk in closet to finally put on his outfit for the day. Mal lingers behind, grabbing his face again with a lot less force. He leans into her touch. He feels her magic as soon as she touches him. There's tendrils of calm, but it wasn't nearly enough to account for all the power he can feel thrumming around her.

 She must sense his confusion. “Protection for your piercing. With Eves and Carlos about to fill your head with product and dye I don't want it infected.” She pats his cheek twice, bids him an amused reminder to behave and ducks out of the room, leaving him to wait for the other two. 

 He didn't have to wait very long. 

 “You're still sulking.” Carlos scoffs. He rolls his shoulder, loosening a bag full of shampoos and dyes. “Unbelievable. I hope you know you got off easy. Jay talked me down from a ledge.” 

 “I think the punishment Jay provided is perfectly suitable.” Evie says, looking right at him. She isn't smiling, her eyes unkind. “Don't you?”

 Chad nods, not trusting his words at the moment. He doesn't think he could form the words if he tried. 

 Evie's face softens at the conflicted look accompanying the agreement. She rests her knee beside him on the bench, crowding in his space and bringing both hands to cup his face. He sighs in quiet relief. “You look pretty, baby.” 

 “Thank you.” He breathes, relishing her soft skin and warm scent. Like vanilla and caramel. The smell was almost as comforting as Mal's magic at this point. 

 “You baby him.” Carlos says, disapproving but with no real heat. He can never seem to manage any for Evie specifically. Carlos takes a careful handful of hair and tugs with barely any force. When Chad obediently cranes his head up and looks at him, he has a pleased smile on his face. 

 “Spoiled brat.” He says fondly. Chad offers a small smile, his heart swelling. “Looks good.”

 “Can Audrey's hair take dye yet?” Evie leads them into the massive bathroom and taps his vest with two fingers. He slides it off, folds it over and hands it to her, leaving him in his tank top which he apparently gets to keep. From her pocket she produces a vial full of bright blue liquid which she hands to him. He downs it like a shot and hands the empty glass back to her with no questions or complaints.

 Carlos tilts his head slightly, thinking. “I wouldn't try anything with bleach. A darker color should be fine. We'd have to wait at least two to three weeks.” He pats Chad's cheek a couple of times. “To make it clear that this is a statement and not a whim.” 

 “It’ll be better if we wait like a month.” Evie agrees. She starts the sink, and Carlos hands him a towel which he immediately drapes over his shoulders. He's never dyed his hair before, but he's smart enough to get the gist of what he should be doing. Evie runs her fingers through the length of his hair with a contemplative look. “We're not cutting it are we?” 

 “The goal is to punish him, not you Eves.” Carlos rolls his eyes. “Besides, you know where I sleep. I wouldn't be safe if I cut your doll's hair.” 

 Evie sticks her tongue out, the picture of royal elegance. “This is less of a punishment and more of a consequence.” She muses. He moves his head back at her gentle push and lets her soak his hair under the spray. “Like putting a name tag on a dog's collar.” 

 It was exactly that. He would be semi-permanently wearing Carlos’ colors for the next couple of months at the least. Likely for the better part of a year. The message couldn’t be more clear, and it was just as much for the public as it was for Chad. He was claimed. He belonged to someone. He decided rather firmly that he would have no opinion on the matter either way, for the sake of his sanity.

 They dye his hair with some fancy treatment from the Tremaine hair salon. Their main store isn't very far; despite their family origins the youngest of the Tremaines had no loyalty to Charmaine having never visited it, and she hadn't wanted to be far from Evie, so they operated out of Central Auradon. Her business was beyond successful last he'd checked, with even native Auradonians unable to hold their biases against such a young and charismatic entrepreneur. Dizzy was usually fully booked, but she always made exceptions for the royal family. They could have been there and back in a couple hours, well before the festivities tonight.

 There was some significance in them doing it themselves he's sure. Some grand statement about ownership and possession and power and control that he honestly couldn't care less about. Evie’s acrylics felt nice and Carlos’ voice was rumbly in his ear as they made casual conversation over him. He enjoys the feeling of being crowded in by two warm bodies and pretends he doesn't hear the edge of mockery saddled up beside Evie’s fondness. Being helpless stopped bothering him ages ago. He was nothing if not adaptive.

 Eventually he's let up from the sink and Evie straddles his lap to blow dry his hair. “Personally, I'm rooting for you, pup.” She says into his ear so he can hear her over the machine. He's already a blushing mess with her in his lap, one of her hands resting casually against his bare shoulder. His own hands are kind of hovering in the air, unsure what he's allowed to touch. Carlos is suitably amused by this if the smirk on his face is anything to go by. “I'd love to give you a little bit more attention. ” 

 “See where that attitude goes when his mouth is full.” He just barely hears Carlos say over the dryer. He buries his face into Evie's shoulder, face burning red, the following laughter ringing in his ears. Light, he should hate these assholes. Why doesn't he hate them?

 What was it about them that made it so impossible? These people who had taken his kingdom, his title, his freedom away from him, these people that he loved so much it kept him up at night. These people whose approval he craved like oxygen and whose disappointment stung like needles. What would it take to make his weak foolish mind finally muster up some disdain for these people? 

 “Get out of your head.” Carlos thumps his forehead lightly. “It's been well established that you don't know how to use it anyway.” 

 Chad opens his mouth, then wisely closes it. He nods, leaning into Carlos’ hand. He's genuinely but pleasantly surprised when the other man indulges him, his thumb rubbing smooth circles against his skin.

 “Some hair dye and a needle and you're downright docile.” Carlos scoffs, thoroughly amused. “You're lucky you're pretty.” 

  I've heard. “ Thank you.” Carlos seems to be able to tell he was biting his tongue and he nods in acknowledgement to the effort. 

 His hair is dry within the hour, and when Evie slides out of his lap, he sits dutifully still while the two villainous royals examine his new appearance. 

 “I like it.” Evie says with a massive grin on her face. “This was a good idea ‘Los.” 

 Carlos was staring at him like he wanted to eat him alive, and it was taking everything in Chad not to hide his head in his hands like a flustered schoolgirl. Evie glanced between the two of them and giggled, bumping her shoulder up against Carlos’ with a sly smile. Carlos managed to tear his eyes away from Chad long enough to throw Evie a feral grin before he was descended on.

 Unsurprisingly Carlos also kissed him like he wanted to eat him alive, but Chad was more than happy to be devoured. It was rare for Carlos to lose his composure like this, and Chad wanted to milk every last drop of satisfaction he could from being the cause of it. Carlos has climbed right into the vacant spot Evie left in his lap, his muscular legs tightly hugging Chad's hips, one hand buried in his hair while the other roamed up his chest. 

 “I am going to be so pissed off if we have to change your hair again anytime soon.” The terrifying force of nature on his lap stops kissing him long enough to say. “So I suggest whatever little challenge Jay has provided you with, you rise to the fucking occasion. If someone else touches you while you look this damn good, and this fucking claimed , Jay and his psychological warfare will be the least of your worries, I promise you that.” 

 Chad shivers, nodding dumbly. He absolutely believes him, he's certain Carlos would make it his mission to make Chad's life as miserable as possible if he managed to fuck this up again. The fact that it didn't dampen the fire burning in his gut was a testament to how pathetic he really was.

 Eventually the kissing stops for long enough that Chad can turn around and finally see what spurred it on in the first place. He barely recognizes the person who stares back at him in the mirror. But he can admit though - the person is pretty. Beautiful even. And when Evie cheerfully helps him back into his vest, he sees exactly why she was congratulating Carlos on his fabulous idea.

 What had Jane called him? A smokeshow . 

 His PR team would have a heart attack. Chad carefully raises a hand to the newly dark curls, running gentle fingers through it in awe. He has a streak of blood red framing the left side of his face. He can't help the small smile growing on his face, nervous but genuine nonetheless. Less of a punishment, more of a consequence.

 “Thank you.” He whispers. “I love it.” 

 Carlos seems genuinely caught off guard by the sincerity, but Evie only smiles, leaning down and kissing his cheek, this knowing glint in her eyes. “You’re very welcome.” 

She turns his face in order to get a proper kiss out of him, then pats him on the bottom twice and shoos him toward the door. “Go on, you know when you're expected to report back. Go find Audrey, let her know the boys haven't murdered you.”

 “Don't I need an escort?” He tries to keep the apprehension out of his voice, but he can tell he isn't doing a very good job. He isn't exactly too eager to get himself in more trouble for failing such a simple test. Carlos snickers.

 Evie pulls her magic mirror out of her pocket, looking at it for a couple seconds and then nodding, seemingly unsurprised at the outcome. “Audrey is with the birds, they're all sitting out in the garden. Go straight there, no detours.” 

 “We'll know.” Carlos nods at the bracelet tracker.

 “I really don't need anyone to walk me?” Carlos rolls his eyes and Chad holds up his hands in surrender. “Right, yeah - no looking gift horses in the mouth. Straight there, no detours. Got it.” 

 He's only one tentative step toward the door when Evie says, “Wait.” He turns back to her immediately, still nervous he'd just failed some sort of trial. 

 Evie doesn't look upset though, or particularly devious. She looks concerned if anything, something soft and genuine in her face that confuses him and has him shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Last night with Charlotte.” So that was the woman's name. Chad waited for the anger to come. Evie was no brute, though she always seemed at least mildly amused at the other's antics. She preferred a psychological torment, sometimes with a magical aid. When she got particularly wicked or he got particularly out of line she'd give him a potion that made him horribly sick and hold him through it while they waited for it to get out of his system. She'd comb her fingers through his hair while he pukes his guts out, crooning about how she knew it hurt with this little smile on her face. 

 The witch hadn't taken her pound of flesh by altering his physical appearance like Jay and Carlos had been so hellbent to do or even by hurting him. He could still feel the little divots Mal left in his skin, something the fae could have easily healed but had chosen not to. Maybe she'd let it scar over. Evie was the only one left who hadn't physically expressed her displeasure, and honestly Chad was sort of relieved she was going to get it over with now so he didn't have to walk the day quite so tense.

 He resolves to take it on the chin, but when Evie lifts her hand, it's to cup his face. “Did she hurt you?” 

 “What? No. No she didn't really - no.” Being bold enough to touch the secondary court was bravery, possibly arrogance. Being bold enough to try and hurt them was suicide.

 “Did she threaten you?” 

 What the hell is this anyway? What kind of mind game is going on here, and why did Chad feel so completely clueless as to how it was going to pan out. He knows he should have done something, he's got a new hole in his face to remind him of it everyday. He can't be bothered to hide his confusion, even as it's bordering on frustration. Evie had never punished him for negative emotions. At some point he was certain she harvested negative emotions and that's what kept her hair so silky and teeth so white.

 “No.” 

 Her hands don't grab and her eyes don't harden and Chad remains confused at the gentle stroke of her thumb over his clammy skin. “Did you feel threatened?” 

 All his frustration disappears in an instant, replaced with cold shock. Did Evie actually care about his feelings ? Sure he knew she cared about him, in the way that you care for the plant you water every Wednesday and Saturday, or the trophy you kept on your mantle. But he was just that. A decorative statement, an accessory. This whole thing - the entire reason they were so upset is because someone had touched their property. What did his feelings have to do with any of it? Even Carlos didn't interject to express his disdain for this ridiculous, useless question. Even he was waiting for an answer.

 But refusing them an answer was never really an option for him, no matter how stupid the question was. And he'd never actually stopped for long enough to think about it, what with being too busy being drunk, and then annoyed as all hell and then terrified. 

 Did he feel threatened? When this woman, who was obviously attracted to him or at least got a kick out of pretending she was, and who could easily overpower him backed him into a corner? He takes a moment to really think about it, to remember the feeling of being trapped, not being able to see the exits anymore through the crowds of people. Whatever perfume she wore was too strong, it hung over them like a cloud as she pushed into his space. And her smile was too wide, too similar to the baring of teeth Mal’s natural grin was akin to. Whenever he would try to get around her she'd firmly move her body in front of his, and there was this look in her eyes, daring him to do what he was obviously so unwilling to attempt. To use brute force. Push her, shove his way through. And he never did because she knew as well as he did that if it came down to a physical altercation between the two of them he would lose, and he would lose badly. His stomach twisted every time she would push another drink his way, and he couldn't think of a way to refuse. He'd been so disgusted with his own cowardice. And when she produced those little multicolor pills, his heart damn near stopped. He'd stoutly refused, and she laughed and for a single terrifying second he was sure she would force him to take it. What could he possibly do to stop her?

 “Yes.” When had his voice gotten so shaky? Why did he always have to be so fucking pathetic? He was lucky they found it amusing. “Yes I felt - she never actually said anything you'd actually consider a threat it's just - yes. Yes I did feel threatened.” He swallows the desperate, needy I'm sorry that begs to follow.

 Evie’s frown deepens, and she brings a hand up to wipe the tears - when did he start crying? - from his cheeks. “Okay. It's okay baby. It's alright.” 

 Except it wasn't alright because he could still remember how it felt when her hand grazed his, the way her fingers felt in his hair and it wasn't right. It burned like acid, nothing like the familiar heat of the hands that usually touched his body. Hands that at least found value in the skin they were touching, who at least pretended he was something worth a damn. 

 For the second time today he finds himself desperately clutching at the warm body in front of him as he sobs. Evie wraps him up in her arms, smaller and less solid than Jay, but just as fierce. He hears Carlos cuss loudly, followed shortly by the dull thwack of something hitting the wall.

 “What did she say to you?” Carlos demands, and his tone is so scathing that Chad flinches back. He's never been able to make Carlos this mad before, the only time he even got remotely close was when he'd made the mistake of denying him his title the very first time. “What exactly did she say?” 

 “Carlos.” Evie snaps, and light she sounds mad as well. “Take that shit out on the shampoo bottles, not on him.” 

 “I'm not-” 

 “Later.” She says firmly, leaving no room for debate. “You can ask questions later. When Mal can keep him regulated. Maybe with Audrey in the room. Definitely not now.”

 “Yeah fine.” Carlos agrees, but he doesn't sound happy about it.

 He slowly lets go of the white knuckled fistfuls of Evie's shirt, sniffling as he tries to calm his breathing again. “I'm sorry. I'm not trying to get out of trouble or anything I swear. I can tell you what happened if you want me to.” 

 Evie gives him a small smile that doesn't reach her eyes in the slightest. “Go find Audrey. Smoke with the birds.” 

 He looks between the two of them, feeling miserable at their agitated expressions. “I promise I can -” 

 “Charming.” Carlos says tightly. “Go.”

 It takes a good deal of strength not to break down sobbing again, and an even greater deal to walk through the door instead of begging for forgiveness, but he manages. He has tears blurring his vision, but he knows this castle like the back of his hand by now. He walks so fast he's practically jogging, taking the shortest route to the garden despite the heavy foot traffic. The staff seeing him cry was just a normal Tuesday, and any VK vindictive enough to watch him can enjoy the free show for all he cares.

 He's damn near knocked over by a flash of blue and red when he walks into the greenhouse, and he's never been happier to wrap his arms around Audrey in his life. He buries his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of cherries hanging off her. He immediately vanishes the stray thought that he may not wake up to that scent anymore in three days time. He's had enough crying for one morning.

 He makes himself untangle their limbs after a chaste kiss, waving sheepishly at the others. They're all crowded around one of the large wooden tables the greenhouse had to offer, seated in wicker chairs with large plush cushions, except for Ben and Jane, who share the bench along with a tightly rolled joint. Sitting on the table, notably closest to Li Lonnie, is an open and half empty bottle of mead. There's a suspicious lack of cups. It seemed everyone was turning to their vices this morning.

 “You're alone.” It's not a question, but Jane still sounds confused about it. It makes sense, she could sense his presence once he got close enough and could probably also sense that none of the VKs were trailing after him. 

 “Queen Evelyn told me you guys were here.” He answers her unasked question. “I got permission to come without an escort as long as I came straight here.” 

 “Any damage?” Audrey's voice doesn't waver when she asks, but her hand does shake when she lifts it tentatively towards him. Her eyes roam his face, lingering on the new piercing and even longer on his hair. 

 “New hole in my face.” He decides to acknowledge the obvious first. “It hurts a bit still, but not nearly as much as it probably should so I think Queen Evie gave me something for it. High Queen sunk her claws into me and I bled a little, but it wasn't too bad considering what she's capable of. I think she may let it scar over instead of healing me. And uh, the hair. It doesn't hurt, but it's y’know…different.”

 “Who…?” Doug trails off, looking sheepish at the slightly invasive question. 

 “His Majesty DeVil.” He answers. “He wanted to cut it off - or uh, burn it actually, but y'know they have that hair thing.” He laughs half-heartedly even though nothing was even remotely funny. Doug frowns.

 “Okay, alright sit down the both of you.” Ben, the beautiful angel, is already offering up the lit joint when he cuts in. “Let's let Chad breathe before bombarding him.” 

 He takes the offering graciously. “I love you, have my babies.” He takes a deep inhale, eyes fluttering while Ben's face quickly turns scarlet. He forgos the bench entirely, sitting on the floor in between the end of the bench Ben rests on and what was obviously Audrey's empty chair. Having half of his available escorts not respect him in the slightest had gotten him quite used to the ground considering how often he warmed the floor at meetings, and it was a small price to pay to rest in between the three most comforting things in the room. 

 “Thank you also works just fine you know.” Ben mutters, glancing off shyly. It's adorable that he can still manage to be embarrassed with Jay and Evie as lovers, and Chad intends to milk it for as long as it lasts.

 He gives Ben his best shot at a serious expression. “Thank you also I love you, have my babies.” The attempt at earnestness crumbles in the face of Ben's wide eyed bashfulness and gives way to a truly wicked grin that would make Mal proud. Jane giggles, trying in vain to smother the noise with her hand. Audrey playfully taps his head as she comes to sit down, and Chad leans on her leg contently.

 “Wait so-” Doug cuts himself off, obviously looking conflicted. Chad sighs. 

 “Go ahead and ask.” He inhales one last time before handing the joint over to Audrey, who gladly takes it, puffs once and hands it off to Doug. 

 “A piercing and a hair change spell?” Doug takes the offered joint only to pass it off to Lonnie, who hands it to Jane.

 “They dyed it themselves actually.” He clarifies. “Dried it manually too. Very intimate experience, equal parts sexy and dangerous. Ten out of ten, would recommend.” 

 Jane looks puzzled for a second, her eyebrows furrowing before smoothing out again as it dawns on her.

 “So a brand and a power play? That's it?” Doug's frown deepens, concern clear on his face. “That doesn't sound like them.” 

 “Because it's not.” He chuckles dryly, pressing his forehead into the meat of Audrey's thigh. The texture of the smooth fabric on his forehead serves as a much needed grounding element. “Of course that's not it, that would be insane.” 

 “No what's insane is whatever the fuck happened last night.” Lonnie finally speaks up. He looks up at the sound of glass sliding across wood, and sees that she's pushed the bottle over within his reach. He reaches up and takes it. “What the fuck were you thinking?” 

 “Li Lonnie!” Ben admonishes, sounding appalled.

 “Don't ‘Li Lonnie’ me, that was the saddest suicide note I've ever seen and we watched him write it in real time.” Someone with less experience might think the woman's brazen attitude had come from a few sips too many, but everyone in this room knew better. The warrior was like this all the time. Chad takes a deep drink from the bottle. “Seriously, I know you're not dumb enough to piss them off on purpose, so what the hell was that? Did she threaten you or something?” 

 “No.” He frowns, frustration steadily climbing up his throat like bile. “Yes. Kind of - it's complicated okay?” 

 “What the hell is so complicated about ‘don't let anyone touch you’? It's probably the least complicated rule we have besides ‘don’t leave the castle’.” 

 “Lots of things - I just…I got scared okay? Alright?” He runs a hand through his freshly dyed curls, fingers clutching at handfuls of hair and tugging. Grounding. Grounding. Stay calm. “Light's fucking sake, she was all up in my face and - and telling me all these things, making all these jokes. Oh you have something on your shirt, you'd think they take better care of their royal fucking handbag, let me help you. You're so tense, here take these pills, they'll loosen you up. No? I guess you still have some prude leftover, I thought they would have gotten rid of that by now. Let me strategically position myself to be always in your line of sight, let me block you off from seeing the only four people in the room who would give a fuck enough to save you from me. I froze okay? I froze.” 

 A hand is tugging at his arm, gently urging his hand away from his own head. His eyes flick over to Ben, the half-beast trying his best not to look too distraught as he detaches Chad's fingers from his hair with gentle patience. “Chad.” He says with this unbearable earnestness that makes him want to scream.

 “Please don't.” His voice is thick, bordering on watery and it drives him crazy. He wants to tear out his own vocal chords, claw out his useless tear ducts. “I know I fucked up okay? I fucked up, and now people think they can touch me, and if I can't fix this then they're gonna separate us.” He looks up at Audrey, shame welling up inside of him. “Before they dropped me off at breakfast, His Majesty Jay said that if I can't nip this in the bud myself then he'd separate our rooms and give us early curfew. I'm sorry Auds. I'm so sorry this is all my fucking fault-” 

 “Chad.” Ben is firmer this time. To his absolute horror, the former prince has crouched down in front of him on the floor, face set in some grim mix of concern and determination. “She couldn't hurt you.” 

 “I know, I was being stupid it's just -” 

 “No. No, Chad listen to me. She couldn't hurt you.”  Ben speaks slowly, endlessly patient despite the glaringly obvious fact that he doesn't deserve an ounce of it. “Vile people like that get off on making you believe that they can. She found the illusion of power in making you feel scared and helpless, but that's just it. It was an illusion. You held the power in that situation and she didn't like that. You're the untouchable one, not her.”

  What? 

 Light, he hates being confused. That's all he does lately, be hopelessly confused, be inconsolably sad, be laughably pathetic. Rinse and repeat.

 It's Lonnie of all people who's merciful enough to enlighten him. “Look, I get it okay? We all had to kind of learn this lesson the hard way.” She frowns, rolling her eyes. “Granted not quite as hard as you.” Doug smacks her shoulder lightly, which she ignores. She fixes Chad with a hard look, intense but not unkind. “No matter how much a VK wants to - no matter how much they glare or flirt or flex or brag - no matter how badly they hate you or want you, they can't touch you. Mal and the others just won't let it happen. I know it's hard to believe, especially when you're in the moment with a scowling villain in your face. To be honest, it'd be a whole hell of a lot easier if they didn't let jackasses all up in our faces in the first place.” 

 “It's a trust thing.” Jane cuts in, reaching over Ben to hand the joint back to him. Audrey gently pries the bottle out of his hands so he can take it. 

 “It's always a trust thing.” Audrey rolls her eyes, taking a long swig from the bottle in her hand. “Trust, power and control. When they're old and wrinkly it's the only three words they'll still know how to say.” 

 “And sort of a reputation thing.” Jane says.

 “No yeah reputation will definitely be on the old and wrinkly list.” Lonnie scoffs. “Along with ego and wicked.” 

 Jane ignores them both, entirely focused on Chad. “It's more for our reputation than theirs. If the royal court got involved every single time some asshole with a vendetta against light made a pass at us, they'd have to do it every second of every public event we ever had. We get glared at, insulted and berated in every VK oriented space we enter, and at this point some of the Auradonian centered ones too. It'd be a huge waste of time, they'd never get anything done, but more importantly it'd be a huge disservice to us. We'd never learn to stand up for ourselves, and the public assumes we can't protect ourselves without them around. We become a liability to the crown and a danger to ourselves. Especially for those of us like Ben who have a softer public persona or like you who VKs had a particular disdain for beforehand. No offense.” 

 “None taken.” He waves a hand, completely unbothered. It was no secret that most Isle goers despised him. All they had to go on was his PR approved public personality, and Chad hated that dimwitted asshole too. 

 “It's important that any VK who's important enough to be in our vicinity knows that we can defend ourselves. Or at least thinks we have some sort of backbone.” He tries to pass the joint back, but she shakes her head. Beside her, Ben is already pulling another pre-roll from his pocket and beginning to light it. Evie has to approve everything they smoke, and more often than not just packs their joints for them in the process. “Just because Mal and the others don't intervene doesn't mean they don't see it and it doesn't mean they don't care. They want us to earn our own respect, but there are limits to what they'll allow. A VK can talk all the shit they want to us, but the second they raise a hand against us? Isle rules say that's fair game for your crew to get involved. We're a part of their crew.  Kind of. It's the best way I can explain it. The reason Charlotte was able to get away with what she did is because she was very careful about it. Every touch she initiated could easily be explained as an accident. If the court stepped in she could have easily spun it to look like they were dramatically defending their defenseless weak link. I'll admit she got pretty bold with your hair, that was mostly a he-said she-said gamble - she was probably going to pin it on you making advances on her or something and bank on you being too flustered to oppose her.” 

 “So it doesn't matter if I froze or not? No matter what I just had to take it?” It was just a matter of getting thicker skin then. That fucking sucked, but he could manage it. Maybe Carlos could add a training session for learning how to take an insult to the chin, the asshole would love that. 

 “Not exactly.” Jane frowned, obviously trying to find a way to verbalize. 

 Lonnie beat her to it. “You're the stupidest smart person I know, Chadwick.” She said dryly. “Put it to you this way: I insult you all the time, and you just fire back at me with the same energy. Why don't you talk back to Mal like you do with me?” 

 “Because she would smack the everloving shit out of me.” He paused at Lonnie's raised eyebrow, remembering the many times the warrior had deigned it necessary to smack some sense into him. “And I can't hit her back.” 

 Lonnie looks at him expectantly, as if some grand epiphany was supposed to occur. He cocked his head to the side, taking a deep puff from his now solo joint. She pinched the bridge of her nose, and he got the sense she would have probably smacked him if he were in arms length. “Chad you fucking moron, Charlotte can't smack you at all. She's practically your equal! In fact you're technically her superior, you can say whatever the hell you want to her and she can't do jackshit!” 

 “Usually that pisses a VK off enough that they back off on their own.” Doug saves him from any more verbal abuse from his fiery lover. “Especially if you're good enough at comebacks that you manage to strike a nerve. It's a bit of a learning curve.” 

 Oh. 

  Oh. 

  Chad was a fucking idiot. His head falls in his hands as he groans loudly. Light's sake, the answer had been so simple the whole time. He was so busy being a pussy he didn't even stop to consider what was right in front of his face. Of course he knew no one but the court could actually hurt him, but he'd been so unfocused and scared and -

 “I used to be smart.” He bemoaned, his voice slightly muffled as he spoke into his palms. He feels Ben rub his back placatingly.

 “You're still smart Chad.”  He says.

 “Yeah,” says Jane. “Just a little slow on the uptake.” 

 “Hey!” He shoots up and glares at the fae, who's grinning with a twinkle in her eye. Adorable little jerk. 

 “ That's why they're pissed off. I was supposed to tell her to fuck off or something.” 

 “Your bud is still burning.” Jane supplies helpfully. He takes another puff, trying his hardest not to pout.

 “Honestly it's a little ridiculous they just expected you to know that.” Doug huffs, rolling his eyes. He was never shy about voicing his disagreement with the court's more innovative ways of teaching. “You didn't have that problem on your propaganda tour, and they never gave you a debrief or anything. Don't beat yourself up about it.” 

 “Too late.” He says grimly. “I'm whooping my own ass about it as we speak.” 

 “Smoke your weed.” Lonnie demands, which is about the closest to offering comfort she was going to get. He complies, and then gratefully takes the bottle when she offers it again.

 “I think Queen Evelyn realized I didn't know near the end of my dye job.” 

 “She's usually the most level headed.” Doug nods, and fondness joins the agitation on his face. “They're so damn possessive.” 

 “It's ridiculous.” Lonnie says bluntly. “We literally have tattoos marking us, we're not going anywhere.”

 “You said early curfew. How early is early?” Ben asked cautiously. 

 Chad winced. “6. 6:30 on weekends.” 

 “Oh fuck no.” He still wasn't quite used to hearing Jane curse so brazenly. “That's not happening.” 

 “Yeah, I wouldn't want to take Audrey away from you all. I know it's not fair.” 

 Lonnie loosened a ring from her finger - some shiny gold affair Jay no doubt gifted her - and threw it squarely at his head. He didn't move in time and it thwacked him on the forehead, narrowly missing his new piercing. 

 “Ow, Lonnie what the hell?” 

 “You're too far for me to smack.” She said fiercely. “We'd miss both of you, you self deprecating idiot. I know it's hard for you to believe but I actually like having your dumbass around sometimes. You act like if the threat only stood for you, we'd be completely unbothered.” 

 He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead. That's exactly what he thought. Sure Ben may miss him a bit, and maybe Doug, but they both had much more interesting lovers to tend to. Chad would obviously miss all of them. Bubbly and witty Jane, sweet and kind Ben, smart and reserved Doug, even Lonnie with her boldness and dry humor. Every day he grew more and more fond of the four beautiful and bright birds, and every day that made it harder for him to stay in a dog's place. The level of closeness he was allowed with them was a massive grey area that no one seemed to want to acknowledge, but Chad figured it didn't matter because his feelings were largely unrequited. 

 The birds weren't stupid, he was sure they knew of his feelings. They just happened to be kind enough to tolerate it. Occasionally indulge him. He was grateful for it, and he was content with friendship, except all of them were kind of looking at him crazy at the moment.

 Audrey sighed, dropping a hand to his head to begin scratching lightly. “They like you just as much as they like me, you dumb blond.” She paused briefly. “I can't really call you that anymore…damn, they managed to punish me too.” 

 “I love you.” Ben clarified, sounding very serious. Then he flicked his eyes upwards at Audrey, deciding to drape himself over Chad's lap instead of returning to his seat. “Don't worry, he's a blond at heart.” 

 “Of course we'd miss you, pretty boy.” Jane scoffs while he flushes at hearing that nickname from someone other than his villainous lovers. “Duh.”

 “You think we hang out with you because we have to?” Doug pushes up his glasses, giving him a dubious look. “We don't have to y’know. You two need escorts to go down the hall, it would be, like really easy to avoid you if we wanted to. If anything, we have to try harder to spend as much time with you as we do.”

 “I always figured you wanted to hang out with Audrey and just felt bad leaving me in the room alone. She's objectively like way cooler than me.” 

 Ben pushes his arm up with his forehead. “Smoke your weed.” He reiterates, rolling his eyes. “We gift you a whole roll and you let it burn out because you're too busy being ridiculous.” 

 “It doesn't matter anyway.” Lonnie says with finality. “You're not getting an early curfew because you're going to tell Charlotte to go back to humping cows and lassoing cactuses.” 

 “Cacti.” Doug says.

 “Oh my light, who the hell cares?” Lonnie snaps. Doug chuckles, pleased to have made a nerdy nuisance of himself once again.

“Technically both are grammatically correct.” Jane clarifies. Ben hands her the newly lit joint and she gives a pleased little hum.

 “You'll probably have to be a little harsher than that.” Ben snickers, a gleam in his eyes. “Remember when I told Harry Hook to go back to raiding the wharf rat's panty drawer?” 

 “Yes!” Jane erupts in laughter. “Oh my gosh, his whole arm was shaking, he wanted to hook you so bad. He had to take a lap.” 

 Chad barely holds back his laughter, thoroughly enjoying the mental image of the shit eating grin Ben was no doubt proudly wearing at the moment.

 Doug's mouth quirks up in a rare smirk. “Or that time Crank made fun of me for playing chess so I told them maybe they'd know Jay also plays chess if they ever saw him with the lights on.” 

 Above him Audrey snorts. “You didn't!” 

 “They still snub me in interviews for it.” Doug doesn't sound the slightest bit remorseful. “Not my fault Jay never kept them around when the sun came up.” 

 “Rude, Dougie.” Jane says with a smile.

 “Wicked.” The half dwarf corrects her. “I learned from the best.” 

 The six of them lounge peacefully, the birds recounting times they'd traded barbs with VKs and come out on top. Chad finishes his joint around the same time Jane and Ben finish their shared one, and the fae immediately lights a new one. Between all of them the bottle is empty within the next hour. Somehow Jane also produces another one of those, although Chad's not quite sure from where.

 “So question,” he says when the bud and the bottle have loosened his lips enough. “How exactly is Jay - His Majesty - in bed?” 

 “Good ness .” Doug huffs. “He's - yeah he's good.” 

 “As good as he brags about being.” Jane winks. “Which is impressive, considering how much he brags.” 

 Chad nods. Jay does brag a lot about his sexual prowess and past escapades. He's heard more stories than he could even begin to recount, and he'd seen firsthand just how desperately some of his old bedmates would cling to what they once had. All sorts of people -strong, capable, pretty damn scary people who looked like they knew thirty ways to kill a man - would find Jay at parties or social events and fling themselves at him. Clinging to him like he hadn't made it abundantly clear he didn't bed anyone outside of his court anymore, desperately pretending the thief’s light- hearted flirting meant something like Jay wouldn't flirt with a potted plant if he got bored enough. It was like watching a train-wreck in slow motion. Jay fed on the attention like a succubus.

 “Wait,” Ben pushes himself up on one arm to stare incredulously up at him, as if he'd come upon some grand realization. His elbow is digging into the meat of Chad's thigh, but somehow he doesn't mind too much. “You're telling me he's never…” 

 Chad shakes his head. 

 Ben presses his forehead into Chad's chest, looking solemn. “I'm so sorry for your loss.” 

 “Ridiculous.” Lonnie says. “All of you are ridiculous.” 

 “So he's not good?” Audrey quirks a brow.

 Lonnie scoffs, waving a hand. “Of course he's good, look around the party at all the practice he's gotten.” 

 Audrey's hand flies to her mouth, desperate to hold in a laugh. In his lap, Ben's whole body is shaking from the force of his chuckling.

 “Why the sudden interest?” Jane wiggles her eyebrows. “I mean I know he teases and is all around an insatiable bastard, but you've never been curious enough to ask before.” 

 “The curfew separation threat is my punishment if I fail to curb the touching problem.” Despite himself Chad feels his face slowly heating up. Suddenly he's very aware of the warm heat of Ben's body pressed into the lower half of his. “If I succeed he said he'd take me back to his room for some - uh one on one attention. Except, probably not one on one because of the whole pack mentality thing they have, and Queen Evelyn said something about wanting me to succeed so that she can - and I'm pretty sure having me wear his colors like permanently for the time being got His Majesty DeVil all hot and bothered and uh…” He could practically feel the whole room staring at him incredulously. “And he said he'd let me spend the night.” 

 “With them?” Ben asks, eyes lighting up. 

 “They haven't let either of you spend a single night outside of your room to date.” Jane is grinning like Christmas came early for some reason. “That's big.” 

 “That's so unfair.” Audrey's pout is good-natured but he sees the small bit of sadness in her eyes. “You get a hot and heavy villain orgy-” 

 “Auds-!” 

 “And I have to spend the night alone.” 

 “No.” He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the image of hot and heavy villain orgy from his mind before he got too sidetracked to function properly. “No he said if I stay with them, you get to spend the night with the birds.”

 “We get Audrey?” Ben says, his voice taking up a deeper timbre at the thought alone.

 “Oh ho ho - you are definitely succeeding in this challenge.” Jane says, rubbing her hands together with a manic grin. Her magical signature begins to swell, her excitement quite literally infectious. “We are getting you laid, and we are getting that gorgeous woman in our bed.” 

 “Guys.” Audrey groans. Chad knows better, poking her lightly in the side with a cheeky grin. She loves the attention - and she damn well deserves it. 

 “It's a win-win” Jane ironically pays her no mind. “Plus the avoidance of that totally bogus punishment so it's a win-win-win.” 

 “Add another win for poor Chad's hair.” Doug pipes up with a grin of his own. “I think if Carlos finally pulls it in bed like he's obviously been dying to do, maybe he'll stop yanking Chad through the halls. Win-win-win-win” 

 “Doug!” Chad protests, clutching his own curls in protest.

 “Unlikely.” Lonnie scoffs. She isn't grinning, but her smirk is as clear as day. “Carlos would let us chain-smoke cigs at the breakfast table before he gives up his favorite leash.”

 “Lonnie!” Chad whips his head around to her, feeling betrayed as his face reaches temperatures it's never known before. 

 “It's okay Chad.” Ben says solemnly. “He pulls mine too.” 

 The resulting laughter is loud and a little obnoxious and so full of joy and comfort Chad could cry. Ben stays splayed across his lap, long limbs reaching up intermittently to press his palm into his chest or throw an arm around his neck. At some point he grabs Chad's hand and doesn't turn it loose unless it's to gesture briefly. Audrey rests her hand in his hair, scratching softly. Eventually it moves to rest on the nape of his neck, providing a gentle pressure. And all six of them laugh and gossip and tease, and slowly but surely the roiling pit of anxiety that's been bubbling in Chad's stomach all morning dissipates, replaced with something warm and heavy and safe.

—---

 Chad was undoubtedly nervous when he was getting ready for the second night of festival, but Audrey did a great job of distracting him by kissing him until his head spins and his eyes blur around the edges. Jane and Doug show up at their door to escort them down, the former quickly shooting down his suggestion that he shouldn't drink tonight because no one deserved to be sober at an Isle-run event.

 Doug, for his part, staunchly agrees and passes him a flask that he can only stomach one swig from before he's coughing and grasping at his throat. The dwarf-kin winks as he grabs his hand and drags him along, Jane and Audrey trailing shortly after.

Ben literally crushes him in a hug when he sees them, obviously a shot or two in and unaware of his own beastly strength. Chad grins and bears it anyway, happy to have an armful of Ben whenever it was offered. Lonnie also looks pretty pleased to see him, though she of course shows it by flicking his ear and handing him a shot.

 Isle parties were always a rambunctious affair. It was early enough in the night that the music was still live - a small band of guitar, drums and tambourine with a lead singer. Eventually they'll all get too drunk to play, and either someone will take over or Carlos would get the speakers going. That was the beauty of having access to pre-recorded music. Sometimes Doug would get up there with his electric guitar and a microphone and give a few solo performances, the usually reserved songbird reveling in the way the whole crowd would cheer and salivate over him. Chad particularly enjoyed those nights. With his dwarfian alcohol tolerance, there was no such thing as too drunk to perform to him, just a steadily bolder Doug as the night went on. It was a wonder to see.

 The music was loud, the bodies were hot and slick and the liquor flowed. People danced in packs, some wild and unfocused, some choreographed and clean, obviously having some sort of tradition. Some split off into couples and grinded on each other, two bodies moving smoothly together in tandem to the beat. Chad rarely danced - hadn't worked up the courage yet - but he thoroughly enjoyed watching Jane and Ben join the mirage of couples moving as one on the floor. There were plenty of people in corners doing drugs or coming down from the effects of them, or packs of people doing both. Chad stayed away from those corners. They had a strict rule about taking substances from anyone that wasn't the court, but even if they didn't Chad wasn't interested in anything harder than the weed he smoked. He liked having his wits about him too much for hallucinogens.

 All things considered it was pretty impossible for anyone to keep an eye on everyone at any given time, and so no one was crazy enough to try. As a rule of thumb they tried to keep one of the four royals within eyeshot, and another member of the secondary court close enough to reach them in an emergency. Right now Ben and Jane were hovering near his perimeter while they danced with a very enthused Gil.

 “You're always hugging a wall or somethin’.” The woman - Charlotte leans against the wall next to him, giving him a sly grin. She's wearing a shirt with a plunge so dramatic he can see her belly button, and all he can think is how Evie wore something similar about a month ago and it looked so much better on her. He raises an eyebrow at her, mouth pulled into a tight line. “You still shy after all this time?” 

 “Not shy.” He says evenly. Despite the residual nervousness trying to revolt in his stomach, he finds he isn't scared of this woman. Not anymore. In hindsight she was just some attention whore who made her own lack of charm his problem. If anything he was deeply annoyed she thought she could target him two nights in a row. He really needed to work on his reputation. “Just like watching.” 

 Charlotte laughs, loud and obnoxious and Chad briefly wonders what her head would sound like bouncing against concrete. “I bet you do, Charming.” She reaches out a hand to brush his shoulder like you'd do to a friend, and he shifts his body so it just swipes air.

 “Okay, this was cute last night, but it's getting sad now.” It's been a little bit since he's said anything on camera, but he still falls easily into his Isle-influenced public persona. He manages a laugh and finds it to be more real than fake. “And a little desperate. I mean I figured last night when you trailed after me like a fruit fly on a mango - wait you know what those are right? You've managed to read up on those since the Isle?” 

 It was a low-blow - and one he personally didn't find relevant since he had no illusion of superiority over Isle-born seeing as four of them had clearly proved time and time again that they could run circles around him intellectually - but the birds made it pretty clear that there was no too far when it came to these people. They said things they didn't agree with all the time - the important part was that it pissed their opponent off and based on the curling scowl of her painted lips he'd hit the mark. 

 “You think you're better than me because you're an Auradon-bred pony?” She demands. She has an ugly scowl, but not everyone could be Carlos he supposed. 

 “I think I'm better than you because I bed the royal court, wear the mark of the dragon and live in the castle, while you travel the countryside in search of the attention you lacked in childhood.” He replies, a smug smirk sliding on his face like an old glove. It was his default expression on camera, well practiced and perfected. “Let me guess; Daddy walked out the door so Mommy was resentful? Or Mommy was strung out on any pill she could get her hands on? Daddy found peace at the bottom of the bottle? You gotta tell me when I nail it, I'm no mind reader babe.” 

 “You're getting real bold, aren't ya Charming?” Her twitching hand is hovering over her hip, where she undoubtedly has some sort of weapon. He doesn't know many VKs that travel unarmed. A spike of nervousness crests inside him, but his poker face is long suffering and has stood up against much worse than a cowgirl with a blade.

 “Whatever the case may be, you weren't getting enough hugs as a kid, so you turned to external sources to get your dopamine fix.” He holds up his hand, showing off the glittering rings that were undeniably Jay's preference, nodding across the room where the royal himself is twirling a blushing man across the dancefloor in intricate patterns. This was - he had to admit - just a guess, but it was a pretty good one considering just how many Isle-dwellers seemed to be in love or at least in deep-lust with Jay. He watches unease and discomfort flicker through her eyes through all the anger and his smirk gets meaner. Bingo. “Must sting that you didn't make the cut for him either, huh? Guess you're not his type.” 

 “You think you're tough just because you're somebody's trophy?” She so obviously wants to reach for whatever's concealed in her hip pocket, but manages restraint. “The only reason you get to be a smart-ass is because your masters will protect their precious pup from getting kicked. If you weren't kept -”

 “But I am.” Chad cut in, quickly boring of the same old spiel. Honestly, he really wishes folks would get better material. He had made peace with being owned a long while ago, it barely mattered in the grand scheme of things. There were plenty of more valid things to insult him about. “I was chosen, and you weren't. You're crueler, bolder, and stronger, but you'll never be better. And doesn't that just drive you fucking crazy? That I could never beat you, but I'll always win.”

 Charlotte's hand shakes so badly he wonders if he'd gone too far and gave the woman a stroke, her face scarlet red in anger. He also wonders for a brief moment if he'll have to watch this stupid woman die in front of his face because she made the mistake of attempting to destroy one of the Crown’s prized possessions in their clear line of sight. Thankfully he doesn't have to wonder for long. With a low growl of frustration that could truly rival Carlos, she swiftly turned on her heel and flounced into the crowd before she could do something she couldn't take back.

 He snickers at her back as she huffs away, and for once the flippant amusement he exhibits is rooted in something real. Watching Charlotte so obviously enraged yet so painfully aware of how powerless she was in the face of his status - it was funny. More than that it was hilarious. He'd never enjoyed lording his power over others before, always found it petty and rude. 

 Well both of those attributes just so happened to be highly encouraged. Petty, rude, vindictive and cruel, that's what he was told to strive for. Wickedness. It seemed so ridiculous six months ago. And here he was reveling in it. Mal would be proud of him. 

 “You did it!” Ben descends on him like a bird of prey, pulling him into another crushing hug, practically bouncing with excitement. “I knew you had it in you.” 

 Before he could even register what was happening and poke fun at the man for sounding so cheesy about Chad winning what was essentially a roast battle, Ben separates them just long enough to press his lips fervently against his own. It’s incessant and needy, a release of tension long time built between the two of them. Chad only stiffens for a second before he's immediately melting into the kiss, and the firm hands that grip his hips, and the solid wall of soft skin, taunt muscle and glitter his body is falling into because fucking finally. 

 Kissing Ben is every single bit as exhilarating as he'd always imagined. Ever since he was young enough to still hold his mother's hand across the street but old enough to know he could never be allowed to love Ben in the way Audrey was supposed to. Boys were off limits, but Ben was extra off limits. Kind, soft, smart, beautiful Ben - who was way too good for Chad.

 Who was kissing him like his very life depended on it.

 Oh shit.

 Chad pushes lightly at his chest - its all the pressure he can manage and even that takes all of his willpower to achieve. Ben steps back like a force field had been activated, though he still wears a goofy triumphant grin on his face. 

 “Were we allowed to do that?” His eyes are already darting around the party again, trying to find Mal amidst the chaos.

 “I'm not sure.” Ben, for his part, doesn't sound the least bit worried. “ I'll take the fall for it if not. This was definitely a beg for forgiveness, not ask for permission type of deal. There's no way I wasn't going to kiss you after that - hearing you mouth off like that was ridiculously attractive.” 

 “How did you even hear me? You two were all the way over there.” Chad rolls his eyes, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the pink in his cheeks.

 Jane raises an eyebrow. “Most powerful light fae of our time? Hello?” Her magical signature gets just the slightest bit stronger as she says it, not enough to influence their emotions but more than enough to feel the shift. She was showing off, the little showboater. 

 “Ah yes.” He says dryly. “Silly me. How could I forget?” 

 Jane grins, and Chad can't help but think - not for the first time - that something is missing in her smile. It took him a while to figure out it was her teeth that made her grin feel incomplete. When Mal grinned it was all sharp points and angles, her natural teeth unashamedly on display with not a glamour in sight. She could, of course, make them less sharp when she wanted to, but Chad knew for a fact the dark fae enjoyed the air of danger the sharpness gave her. Jane unfortunately didn't have that option anymore. Her teeth had been filed down at a young age in an effort to make her look ‘less threatening’.

 Which was just silly. Jane was one of the sweetest, kindest, most terrifying girls he knew, and he figured that rare and somehow harmonious juxtaposition deserved every last rare and harmonious physical attribute that came along with it. Jane would absolutely suit having wide kind eyes and a viciously sharp smile, and he told her as much whenever the topic came about. 

 That grin grows just a fraction when her hand darts out to smack him firmly on the rear.

 “Hey!” He yelps.

 “Sorry.” Jane says, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic. “I figure if Ben gets in trouble for touching you, I should too. Y’know out of solidarity. That and I've really wanted to do that for a very long time.” She turns her attention to Ben, smacking him on the shoulder. “Dougie is gonna be pissed at you.” 

 Ben smiles sheepishly, eyes darting around as if trying to scout the musician like a spooked antelope. “He, uh, had dibs?” He explains. “He wanted to kiss you first. Like he really wanted to kiss you first. Aw, man he's gonna kill me.” 

 Light, Chad was surrounded by the goofiest, most half-witted, beautiful amazing people he'd ever known. It's more than he deserves, the fucking idiots.

 “Speaking of killing things, here comes His Majesty.” Jane winks at him, grabbing Ben's hand and pulling him away with a mischievous smile. “Bye Chad, have fun!” 

 He shakes his head as he watches them go. Fae were such assholes. Likable, gorgeous assholes. Ben looks back long enough to wiggle his eyebrows. Stupid, beautiful man.

 Jay, the supreme overlord of all assholes, wraps his arms around Chad's waist from behind which slows all brain functions to a screeching halt. “That was quite a little performance you just put on.” He presses his mouth into the crook of Chad's neck, speaks directly into the skin like the giant jerk he is. “You must have really wanted my attention.”

 “Well I've got it now, don't I? I take it my performance was up to your standards then?” He manages. Jay chuckles, the vibrations spending shivers down his spine in a way that was completely unfair and entirely inappropriate for such a public place. 

 “You, Chad Charming, are an insufferable little smartass, and you're lucky I find that attractive.” 

 “Yeah?” He's not sure what emboldens him. His recent petty victory over Charlotte, his childhood daydream finally coming to fruition, or the copious amounts of alcohol in his system. “How attractive?” 

 “You'll find out soon enough won't you, Scout? You have fun, baby.” 

 Jay lets him go abruptly, disappearing into the crowd just as quickly as he'd appeared. Chad doesn't roll his eyes, but it's a colossal effort on his part. He slinks off in the opposite direction in search of Audrey so he could tell her the good news and hopefully press her against a wall and kiss her until the room went fuzzy. Maybe he could find Doug too. If he was going to get in trouble for the Ben thing, he may as well even everything out. It just so happened that Chad found him just as kissable as the former prince, and he was dying to find out what his hands felt like on his hips.

 Unlike Auradonian etiquette standards, there really wasn't an expectation for the host of an Isle party to stay through the whole event. Around three hours into the festivities that were sure to last well into the dawn, Chad is gently led with a familiar ringed hand by the nape of his neck out of the party and straight to the master bedroom.

  Very. The answer to his question is very attractive. 

 He doesn't get very much sleep that night, but when he finally does doze off, he's surrounded by warm bodies and his heart is pleasantly full.

Chapter Text

 High Queen Maleficent “Mal” Bertha of the Moors was not a fickle creature despite her lineage. Not really, not in the ways that mattered. Once she decided that a task was worth her time, she'd stop at nothing to see it through. Once her mind was made up, it was hard to sway her even remotely in the opposite direction. And once a person was deemed worthy enough that her magic would sink it's tendrils into them, they would stay resolutely hers until she saw fit to let them go. And she was not in the business of letting go of what was hers.

 Still Maleficent, as her namesake and lineage would so evidently reveal, was a faerie. And fae, at their core, had an unshakable desire to remain always and eternally entertained. A bored fae was a restless fae, was a danger to humanity. Even more damning was her godly lineage, which held an even longer track record of meddling and manipulating to oftentimes devious extremes. The need to play, and confuse and toy was in her blood, her very birthright, and it demanded she satiate it lest she go mad with boredom.

 Luckily running a kingdom took care of a good chunk of that desire. Politics was just one big wicked playground, even the Auradonian slop she had to wade through while she was still planning her coup. Manipulation, mind games and elaborate schemes were just part of the game, a necessary skill to get ahead, and she was quite literally predisposed to be better at it. The poor schmucks never stood a chance. It was almost too easy. 

 And so she supplemented that with a healthy dose of power dynamic in her relationships. Her original gang - her crew - were not only just aware, they were very willing participants in her antics. Evie loved to feel coveted and sought after, fawning beautifully under her attention, tearing up gorgeously when pushed just so, always so trusting of Mal to put her back together again. Carlos loved a strong woman in charge, one who actually gave a shit about his well-being and valued him as a person. He didn't mind that it usually came with a fair share of bruises and some nasty words. A wonder what mommy issues would let you put up with in exchange for some validation. Jay craved the push and pull of submitting to her while lording power over others. Seemed to crave the tangible proof he was more than a single-faceted individual, more than the simple caricature his father projected onto him.

 She was careful about it, never pushing too far, always aware of when to pull back, when to refocus her attention elsewhere for a while. They didn't have any of the fancy terminology or procedures people in Auradon seemed to deem so necessary. Didn’t need them. Mal knew her crew better than anyone else, knew how to give them what they needed without hurting them, how to break but not shatter, so they could grow like a muscle being torn apart and rebuilt again and again.

  Mal knew what love was. She'd argue that hers was the purest form of all. No one could replicate what she and her crew had. And despite what they may say, everyone wanted to. That kind of love, safety and strength was rare. 

 Her Auradon lovers - her hoard - were different. Softer, kinder, already spoiled on sugar sweet words and sickenly saccharine optimism. So quick to take something to heart, so susceptible to internalizing a trivial remark and letting it run their delicate little minds into the ground. They were sensitive, they were fragile, and so Mal had to be oh so careful with how she played. 

 Ben broke apart at a badly timed word or phrase, Lonnie would turn a single sentence over in her brain for weeks, Doug's eyes would nervously follow her hands every time her claws got too close, even Jane would come simpering every so often. So soft and squishy, in danger of melting forever into pathetic puddles of tears and emotion, never again capable of being built back into the strong solid individuals she was proud to call her own. Too much and they wouldn't ever be able to pull themselves together again, or worse yet they'd suddenly begin to doubt Mal's love for them. The very thought upset something ancient in her soul, her inner dragon growling at the thought of such discordance in her hoard. No, she couldn't let such valuable things fracture into nothing, so she'd take the extra precaution to afford them proper care.

 Which was hard because they all suffered so beautifully under her claws, and it made her selfish instincts sing, calling for more and more and more . But one didn't lead a kingdom without possessing some level of discipline, and Mal always did love a good challenge. 

 It wasn't less, she'd have to remind that base part of herself, all creature and instinct, it's just different. 

 And it was different, but eventually her beast adapted and found itself quite content indeed. Pulling back on her more sadistic urges was a small price to pay for the way her hoard so intrinsically needed her. She was the center of their universe in a way she just wasn't to her crew. While  her crew needed her by their side, the fact remains that they could stand on their own two feet just fine. Evie, Carlos, Jay, they were all whole in their own regard, she could send them away to another kingdom for months at a time and they would be entirely self sufficient. 

 Her hoard would fall apart without her. For them she was everything: safety, stability, a home. She was Jane's one and only line to her heritage, she was the agent of Doug's liberation and the liberation of his people, the validation that Ben craved and the power that Lonnie needed. They relied on her, found worth in her approval, salvation in her forgiveness. When they fell apart - which they so often do - they'd come to her, desperate and teary and beg for her magic to bite its teeth deeper still into them so they could feel stable again. She'd hold them to her chest and whisper sweet nothings and in those moments they'd be wholly and completely hers. She was their rising sun and cresting moon and all the stars in between. It fed her beast like nothing else - new, fulfilling and wickedly delicious.

 And then Jay and Evie worked their beautiful selfish minds, and in came Chadwick Charming and Audria Rose to her hoard, and suddenly her challenge was increased tenfold. 

 Chad and Audrey were not accustomed to simpering. They were a different brand of Auradonian royalty, the kind who took their circumstances and broken families and the pain it brought, and built armor around themselves. They were bold, full of bolstered pride that they painted over years of short sticks and misgivings. They were mean, nasty in the only way Auradon would allow them to be, with cutting words and clever rouses. They clawed and scratched, surrounded by privilege and yet suffocating from expectations. Two people with their heads barely above water, 24 karat shackles trying to drag them to the bottom.

 They were beautiful, tragic artifacts that she couldn't help but collect. 

 They were insufferable brats who needed to be knocked down a peg, and they suffered so gorgeously it should be illegal.

 For nine months those two volatile breakable treasures sat in the same castle as her, locked away to perfect and preserve like the fancy wines their parents would sip instead of tucking them in at night. And in those nine months, Mal would only visit them about seven times. Seven times was all she could manage while still being able to hold the slightest bit of restraint.

 She wanted to shatter these two marvels, these uniquely brutal dogs, fed poison on silver spoons for their whole lives. She wanted to sink her teeth into their tender flesh until their skin was slick with blood, and their eyes welled up in tears. Their bones crushed beneath her fingers, their muscles shredded, their teeth painted red, she wanted to consume them and revel in the satisfaction of them asking for more. 

 And they would ask for more. It's what they've been taught since birth, to take and adapt and appeal, to stay above water. She could twist that dial, could train them into nothing, could bolt strings into their limbs and puppet the wires. She had the skill set, she had the desire, she had no one to stop her. Here at the top of the world, she could pour her intentions into their fractures like gold mending fine china and stitch the whole thing together so nothing is ever the same about them again. That's what her beast wants.

 She doesn't do that.

 It would be a pain to write off for one thing, it's not like two massive royals like that could be hidden away forever, and it's not like she could hire a pet sitter when she had to travel. Eventually the whole of Auradon would see what she made of them, the true horror she was capable of, and suddenly she'd have a much harder time selling that morally grey angle she was going for. There'd be failed revolutions and rebellions all over again, made ten times worse by the living breathing martyrs that would no doubt end up on every television screen, magazine cover and gossip forum in Auradon.

 Then there were her birds, sensitive things that they were. They'd be unable to comfortably ignore her capabilities like she knows they must to retain some form of morality that they desperately needed, that claim to goodness that they clung to. Eventually their bleeding hearts would urge them to come to her teary eyed, begging her to stop, and when she eventually pulled back from her prize to give the poor things peace, they'd realize the truth of the matter. They'd watch the two pillars they once knew flop on their faces, unable to stand on their own two feet. She'd let go of the wires and they'd collapse, boneless and aimless and haunted. Mal's work would be irreversible - she'd never be so sloppy as to have it be otherwise. And her birds would never look at her the same.

 But really the most important reason is the very same reason she restrains her urges for the birds: what a terrible waste it would be. To take the most interesting things Auradon managed to churn out and turn them into two simpering shells of their former glory would be a sin. It's like finding a full carton of fresh fruit on barge day and throwing it right into the ocean just because you could. Something Mal could have done fifteen times over? Obviously. Something she'd ever been boastful and stupid enough to do? Yeah no.

 So she kept her distance for a while, battering the urge down into something more manageable. Carlos, wicked little genius that he was, also had to keep them at a distance as he fought off his own violent tendencies. Jay and Evie were happy to take over a majority of the psychological warfare their training required.

 By the time it was time for them to leave for their inter-kingdom tour, Mal could fully control herself as long as she kept them at arm's length. By the time they were back in the castle, the fae found she could act sensibly again.

 Obviously that didn't mean she didn't have her good fun when the mood arose. Chad's tendency to desperately people please himself into a corner, all while flawlessly equipping his sharp tongue amused her to no end, and so did his willingness to suffer in order to reach his goals. Audrey's unbreakable spirit and self sacrificing nature being at constant odds with each other was equally amusing and so were the tears that often accompanied the outcome of that little dilemma. Audrey and Chad didn't recoil when a hand was raised to them, they contorted themselves into new shapes and reproached the very same hand. They were every bit as beautiful as she imagined, cutting and vicious to a crowd or camera, but willingly content in the palm of Mal's hand. 

 She couldn't get enough to tell the truth of the matter, and sometimes she simply invented reasons to play her little games. She was High Queen Maleficent, ruler of the United States Auradon for evil's sake, she would do as she pleases.

 At present it was a productive Thursday evening and her crew was still busy. Carlos was off lording his power over an unsuspecting Lonnie who would unfortunately be in for a long night of thorough training before she knew rest.  Jay was wrapping up a lengthy meeting with the very stubborn, very necessary ally that was Anthony Tremaine, and whatever representatives the uppity blond deigned fit to drag along with him this time around. Evie was locked in the library, pouring over her newly emerging legislation, making sure everything was airtight. Mal had the room all to herself for at least another hour, probably more. 

 A quick look at Evie's mirror surveillance proved Charming was accounted for as well. The blond was especially unstable when left to his own devices for too long, a trait that Ben informed her existed long before Mal even set foot in Auradon, but had since worsened after spending so much time in solitary confinement. It wasn't even that he got weepy or whiny when he was alone, though sometimes that was the case and that was adorable in its own right. No, the problem was that he much more often than not reverted quickly back into the worst of his captivity mindset, empty, pensive and entirely self loathing. And once he got like that it took ages to right him again, days at a time of careful words and restorative activities, a needlessly exhaustive process on the crew but especially on the man himself. Things like that could fuck with months if not years of training. 

 Luckily one glance confirmed that there he was, contently seated on the floor next to Jay's chair, serving as a not so subtle display of power as the thief's hand rested casually in his nest of curls. If he was at all bothered by his unequal position at the table, it didn't show on his face or waver his confidence in the slightest. In fact he openly expressed his disdain for whatever nonsense Anthony had spouted, and was voicing it out loud by the looks of it, with that little self satisfied smirk he got about himself sometimes. Jay looked on fondly, his own smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth while the uptight asshole looked shocked and appalled. As amusing as that was, she didn't bother turning on the audio for the tape. Jay would no doubt delight her with the full retelling in a couple hours.

 In the meantime she sent a maid to escort Audrey to her door and then sat on her chaise lounge, waiting. There was a full length mirror across from where she sat, an addition to the room both Jay and Evie had insisted upon that she and Carlos still snicker about. Their beautiful, vain, pretty boy and pretty girl. Mal caught her own reflection in the mirror and smiled, rows of razor sharp teeth gleaming back at her. A busy day meant no glamours. Her horns were poking proudly through her violet hair, stark black and outwardly curved, sharp enough to break flesh at the top, every bit as deadly as the woman they sat upon. Her claws were out as well, at their uninhibited length, blacker than a night sky, the smoky darkness creeping down her pale fingers like spilled ink, their points sharper than any blade and harder than any stone, powerful enough to tear through metal like tissue paper. 

  What a dangerous creature, she thought happily. Then she rolled her eyes. In her reflection she watched her teeth shrink down until one could comfortably touch her canines without pricking a finger, and her horns rounded at the top. She cast her gaze down at her own hands and her claws dulled down enough that she could grab someone by the arm and not have them immediately sink into the muscle. Like this, they almost looked like the almond shaped acrylics Evie was so fond of. 

  There. That should stop her from tearing any petals off the rose.

  As much as she loved looking fierce enough to strike fear into the hearts of innocents with just a wayward glance, not even Jay, glutton for punishment that he was, could withstand her claws at their full length and sharpness. Audrey was decidedly not Jay, and Mal knew herself well enough to know she wouldn't be able to exist sinking her teeth into the woman once she got here, so it was better to be safe.

 Speaking of which.

 She rose just as there was a knock at the door, a short professional affair that told her it was the help. The maid, a short, sharp eyed girl with a neat black bob, was gone by the time she opened the door to reveal a lone Audrey clad only in pajamas and making hard eye contact with the floor. Immediately Mal's magic eagerly reached out, wrapping around her person like tendrils of smoke, drinking up the anxious anticipation from the girl like a sweet nectar. Audrey shudders at the feeling, the queen fae’s magic is not a subtle presence by any means. She could only imagine how overwhelming it is to the average human. Mal's hand twitched, even as she offered the former princess a toothy smile she wouldn't lift her gaze to look at.

 “You called for me.” Audrey said eventually, after the stretch of silence evidently became too much for her.

 Mal continued to state, reveling in her nerves. “I have. You're wearing my colors.” 

 And indeed she was. Her silken pajamas were the deep royal purple unmistakably associated with the crown, stark against her tawny skin. The shorts, which barely reached her mid thigh, donned the proud black embroidery of a striking dragon. Audrey swallowed. “Yes. I am in your castle.” 

 She and Chad were such little suck ups, it was good for Mal's ego.

 “That you are, darling girl. That you are.” She let the girl squirm for a couple moments, before finally stepping back from the door, allowing her space to move. “Come inside, close the door behind you.”

 She turned and made her way casually back to her chaise, smirking at the hurried scurrying noise of her order being carried out. The usually put together and collected woman turning into this little ball of nerves in her presence never failed to satisfy her inner dragon. Mal purposely hadn't given the maid any orders to recite to Audrey, nothing but a summons. Mal rarely called her in for a meeting by herself, especially so late at night. 

 Mostly for the fact that she didn't usually have time, but Audrey didn't need to know that.

 Mal sat down, watching Audrey flounder with an air of amusement, her magic so finely attuned to her being that she could practically peer into the girl's mind. Have I done something wrong? It was at the tip of her tongue, desperately fighting to be pushed out. She was dripping with the frantic need to right some imaginary wrong, to appease and appeal. She stood in front of Mal, anxiously shifting her feet, staring at the foot of the chaise, obviously wondering if she was meant to kneel. 

 Mal saved her the trouble. “Give me your arm, Audria.” She said simply.

 “Pardon?” She sounded startled, as if Mal had snuck up on her.

 Mal tilted her head, holding her hand out expectantly. “Give me your arm.”

 Her pretty mocha eyes dawned in realization, and Audrey’s anxiety nearly tripled, buzzing restlessly against Mal's magic. The realization washed away, quickly replaced with a strained acceptance. Her eyes even misted up, the start of tears beginning to form. She took a shaky breath before carefully constructing an impenetrable air of grace and presenting her arm as she was bid, pressing her delicate little wrist right into Mal's waiting hand.

 “I'm sorry, your Majesty.” Her tone was solemn and unsteady, like she had tried to keep her obvious distress out of her voice and just barely came up short. Her energy coiled and fizzled around her small frame, thick and cloying, refusing to diminish despite the obvious effort. Still, Mal's magic bore no resistance from what should have been a completely oppositional force. It seems Audrey's energy was not willing to fight her, just like the woman herself.

 “Whatever for?” She purred, feeling every bit like the predator she was. All this anxious energy was absolutely intoxicating, the abject terror at her mere presence stroking her ego in a way seldom else could.

 “Whatever I've done to displease you.” Even less steady than the last time. Audrey refused to look at her, eyes focused faintly on the canopy over the bed beside her. Looking down was no longer an option for her if she wanted to keep the tears at bay, which she was obviously giving her best attempt at. “I apologize.” 

 Mal hummed, nodding her understanding. Perfect manners, completely Auradon bred, the very picture of high class. At the mercy of a monster, a creature bred of chaos, feeding off destruction just as much as creation. Poor frightened princess. Her other hand, the hand not holding Audrey's wrist, clenched eagerly, aching to sink into flesh.

 “You think you've displeased me?” She asked instead of feeding that particular urge. Discipline truly was a virtue. 

 Audrey nodded once, then seemed to think better of herself, muttering lowly, “Yes.” 

 “You think I'm going to hurt you.” And it was not a question, so much as a stating of fact. Audrey's lip quivered, and Mal's dragon roared to life. “Look at me Audria.” 

 Audrey lowered her gaze, looking meekly into the eyes of the dragon, her own gaze glassy and wavering.

 “You think I'm going to hurt you?” This time it was a question, one she obviously expected an answer to. Gently, so gently the girl may have missed it if all her nerves weren’t so obviously heightened, Mal opened the hand she gripped Audrey's wrist with until it was once again resting upon her open palm.

 “Yes.” She swallowed around nothing. “My Queen.” The title seemed to push her over that ledge, and she helplessly allowed the first two big fat tears to streak across her smooth perfect cheeks. She sniffled, looking downright miserable that the floodgates had broken despite her best effort to take this with grace, and all at once Mal could understand why Chad wanted to kill himself when he thought Audria Rose had died. What a beauty she would have robbed the world of.

 “And yet.” She doesn't bother to disguise her amusement, flicking her gaze down at her open palm and back up to the woman crying softly before her. She doesn't finish her thought out loud. And yet you offer yourself anyway. And yet you haven't withdrawn your hand. You've apologized and yet you haven't asked me for mercy. You think I'm going to hurt you and you'll just take it . Sharp minded Audrey Rose, always too smart for her own good. She knows exactly what Mal is thinking. 

 Acknowledgement is shining brightly across Audrey's crumpled features. She knows. Mal's own eyes gleam, a warm pride spreading across her chest. There was a pregnant pause, a silent waiting where Mal didn't close her hand and Audrey didn't move her arm and the warmth kept spreading as her dragon kept purring.

 “I'm not unhappy with you.” She said finally, closing her hand gently and tugging just a bit to lure Audrey closer. The shorter woman moved forward wordlessly, eyes once again downcast now that she had forgone her attempt to corral her tears. Mal fought the urge to coo, instead bringing her free hand up to cup Audrey's face. Her skin was soft and warm under her touch, and she dragged her thumb carefully across her cheek to wipe at the steady stream of tears, mindful of her claws as she went. “Quite the opposite, pretty girl.” 

 Audrey sniffled wetly, her outstretched arm finally growing heavy as she untensed and her muscles relaxed. Her energy followed suit, the frantic anxiety waning until it was just slightly above normal. She was literally sat in the belly of the beast and yet just hearing Mal was pleased with her could get her to relax. The fae hummed her satisfaction.

 “I didn't call you here to harm you.” She confirmed, noting the way the last of the nervous energy dissipated at the assurance. She suppressed the urge to raise an eyebrow. That meant that Audrey was not only smart enough to realize Mal didn't have to be displeased with her to hurt her, but that she found the displeasure significantly more distressing than the pain itself. Interesting. 

 She set upon her task with single minded focus, carefully raking her eyes across the caramel colored expanse of Audrey’s arm. The skin wasn't quite clear, there were small scars here and there that Mal would pause to trace over delicately with the pads of her fingers. Little keepsakes from times that Mal thought a lesson should be learned. The five little divots her claws left from Audrey’s first sparring session, the thin cut from the first time she won a sword fight. The fae passed over the skin so gently it was as if she was trying to soothe it, like some paltry healer trying to hide their mediocrity. She could feel the confusion coming off the former princess, genuine and open in the way her curiosity often was. She reminded Mal of Jane in that regard.

 “I understand you and Charming are both fairly susceptible to succumb entirely to your difficult moods.” Mal finally supplied. She let Audrey's arm fall to her side at last, opening her opposing hand with which Audrey immediately supplied her other arm. The fae nodded, continuing the process on the other arm, pausing over any scars to make sure she could identify them. “I'm simply checking to ensure neither of you have succeeded in harming yourselves during any recent episodes I may not know about.”

 “We can't.” Audrey says simply, though she makes no effort to try and remove herself. If she's at all offended by the implication of her sensitivity she doesn't show it, and neither does her aura. “Your spellwork won't let us.”

 Which was correct in theory. The particular bit of spellwork she was referring to was tied to the bracelets she had her hoard wear. Simple silver band with a perfect circle of obsidian in the middle. Sleek, understated, easily hidden under sleeves and layered with so many wards and spells it could make a magic scholar weep. It was complicated work to say the least, serving so many purposes that if she were to put a price on one, with all the magical modifications, it would be well over a million dollars. It measured heart rates, monitored cortisol levels, tracked locations and yes - prevented suicide and self harm.

 Because both of her kept little pups have already given those counterproductive inane concepts a try, and Mal was having none of it. Audrey would rake her nails over her wrist like one of Scar's deranged hyenas, eyes glossy and lost in the midst of panic attacks. Chadwick was even worse about the whole thing. He had to be put on honest-to-dark suicide watch when Carlos had smugly delivered the utterly false news that Audrey had been executed. 

 The little drama queen had the nerve to go on a hunger strike, and no amount of threats, coaxing or violence could make him eat or drink. He stared at the corner and cried himself to dehydration for three full days and after day five of him silently refusing food and responding to any form of violence with pitiful croaks of “please just kill me” that made even Carlos balk,  Jay had to hold him down and force a potion down his throat just to keep him from dying of thirst and slow his body's dutiful attempt to completely  shut down from starvation. Her loyal right hand made the whole experience as miserable as possible for the poor thing, wrenching his mouth open far too wide for comfort, pressing an unforgiving knee into his trembling back, sticking grimy fingers into his mouth that most certainly didn't have to be there and holding a hand over the man's nose and mouth after forcing all the liquid down so he wouldn't spit it out.

 All that to deter him from the very thing he did the next day; resume his strike exactly as it was before. They repeated that process three times over the course of nine days - more than a week - with Jay being a perfect brute each and every time before little Charming finally realized they really wouldn't let him die and he reluctantly started to accept oatmeal and eggs again with no shortage of moping. They never had another incident quite so extreme, but the boy did have another more recent suicide attempt they pretended not to know about under his belt, which Ben himself had intervened with and taken care of.

 “You're clever.” Mal worries her thumb over one particular scar, trying to remember what had caused it. It was undoubtedly her doing, no one else could produce a wound like that. Her claws were unique in that regard. When she'd searched the backlogs of her memory and still came up with nothing, she muttered a quick incantation and it healed over, leaving behind smooth skin in its wake. “You could have found a workaround.” 

 That was also unfortunately true. Both her little dogs were too clever for their own good, and Chadwick, who usually took to orders with a reverent obedience nearing devotion, had already found workarounds to her self harm rules. The last such instance was a bloody affair where he discovered the wards preventing him from raising a sharp object against his person didn't apply to his teeth, and he'd thus chewed the inside of his cheeks to bloody mangled strips during one of his little episodes. By the time Audrey found him and her subsequent panic had set off her heart rate sensors, he was choking on blood and bile, crying out pitifully for Mal to come save and forgive him. Whether the pathetic dumbass thought he could somehow bleed himself to death, or simply wanted to inflict harm upon himself in the single most painstaking and laborious way available to him was beyond her.

 It was, quite honestly, fucking ridicoulous. 

 It was a gross mistreatment of her property, and about a year ago Mal would have the boy swallowing mouthfuls of salt and vinegar for his gall, letting him really feel the consequences of his foolish actions. And yet she found herself annoyingly unwilling to punish him for it with any more intensity than a long lecture and a disapproving look. Fortunately the latter was still enough to bring the sensitive boy to tearful remorse, especially in such a vulnerable state, but it still brought a frown to her face to dwell on. 

 Auradon love was making her soft. When Carlos was going through a self harm phase on the Isle, running glass across the expanse of his arms like a man crazed, Mal had damn well smacked him out of it. And when Jay was off engaging in every self-destructive behavior he could think of, Mal had tied his metaphorical leash to a stake in the ground and told his stupid ass to heel. Now here were two of her treasures actively at risk to themselves, with one actually liable to take his life - like such a thing belonged to him in the first place - and she's doling out eye contact instead of discipline like some Auradonian housewife. Ridiculous. She should have made him heal the long way instead of quite literally spooning him healing potions and pain relief. 

 No matter. A slap on the wrist is an entirely different concept indeed when the skin is already bruised over and raw. Whatever works.

 Audrey worries her bottom lip between her teeth, a nervous pensive habit the woman had a penchant for. It was infuriatingly sensual, and stupidly adorable in that Auradonian kind of way. Mal couldn't get enough of it.

“No one is as clever as you, Your Majesty.” She says, soft and earnest in her concession. “Least of all me.”

 And oh doesn't that just stroke her ego just right. Auradon’s brightest turned to her with eyes shining of modest vulnerability, admitting inferiority to a higher being. It's delicious. She finishes surveying the limb in her grasp, no unsightly scars, nothing that didn't belong. No trace of pain except the kind Mal saw fit. Mal returns Audrey's arm to her side gently, feels the heat radiating off her torso, and her pulse increasing, feels her very aura coiled like a spring, aching to launch into the oppressive force of Mal's magic surrounding it, to join and meld and succumb until it's impossible to tell where worshiper ends and worshipped begins, and suddenly Mal knows she cannot stop touching Audria Rose in this moment. She'd sooner level all of Auradon.

 “Don't you think you're too dignified to grovel for my attention like this, Audria?” Mal asks, eyes shining and magic curling.

 “No.” Audrey replies steadily, her plush lips tugging up into a tentative smile. “Every scrap of dignity I have left is a gift you've allowed me. I'm never too dignified to concede to you.” 

 She was purposefully appealing to ego now. Rolling over to show her stomach, baring her vulnerable neck, sucking up. Mal knew it, and Audrey knew she knew. The former princess did this a lot, feed Mal exactly the words she wanted to hear, ever the little diplomat. Mal, despite her loathing for all of Auradon's needless conversational bells and whistles, loved it for one reason. 

  Audrey meant every word. 

 It was evident in her voice, her face, her body, in her very own aura, the energy that hung around her that Mal could read like an open book. There was this raw sincerity in her ass-kissing, the genuine belief in every flowery word from her lips, that was so unique and intoxicating to Mal it made her head spin. Audrey flattered her all the time, but the woman never lied to her. Every devotional, subservient, reverent, ego-bolstering word came straight from her heart. 

 Mal does not gnash her teeth. She doesn't snarl and pounce, doesn't sink her claws into tender soft flesh, doesn't grab handfuls of lush curls and yank so viciously the girl's knees buckle, she doesn't do any of the things she so desperately wants to do at that moment. Instead, in an incredible show of restraint, she lightly grabs the hem of Audrey’s pajama top - purple pajamas, pajamas Mal provided, without Mal she'd have nothing - and lifts it slowly, so slowly she's teasing herself as much as she's teasing Audrey. Inch by inch glorious valleys of warm brown skin are revealed, soft and completely unscathed. Audrey had gained muscle back shortly after her permanent addition to the castle, throwing herself wholly into her training just like she did everything else. The hard lines of her abs are barely coming through, her stomach slightly doughy from a night full of food and a day full of work. It took everything in her not to sink her claws into the unblemished skin and pull , dragging up flesh and cartilage, leaving a scar not even the best of healers could begin to heal. Proving indefinitely that the woman before her belonged to no one else but her.

 She stops the torturous climb right below the woman's breasts - her undoubtedly bare breasts, not even Auradon fucks were weird enough to wear bras to bed - and looks up expectantly.

 Audrey is too dark skinned to flush like her pasty counterpart, but Mal can imagine how glorious it would be if she could. She worries her lip yet again, endless in her pursuit to drive Mal insane, then wordlessly takes the shirt in her own two hands, holding it in exactly where Mal indicated. 

 “You'd be a fool to marr only the single most easily visible part of your body, Audrey. Seeing as I don't keep the company of fools, I'll have to be thorough.” She offers in explanation before the pads of her fingers are gliding across the wide expanse of smooth skin in front of her. It's such a crock of shit. The skin is unblemished, clear of even acne thanks to Evie's aesthetic preferences and extraordinary potion work, Mal can see that with a passing glance. And her greedy fingers still trace the lines of her abs, across the planes of her hips and waist, and her magic still sucks in her shivers and twitches like it's fine wine.

 Audrey doesn't actually move. She doesn't flinch or step back, or any of the other nervous ticks she knows the woman is privy to. For Mal she makes a monumental effort to stay exactly where the fae placed her, no matter the circumstance. At the moment she looks about ready to fall over, knees threatening to buckle at any given time despite her effort. Her energy is screaming, desperate and needy, tugging at her magic like a beggar after a crust of bread, urging it to push in closer, to consume until nothing remained. And her beautiful, devoted, obedient, perfect Audria stays still. Lets Mal touch her for no reason beyond the fae's own whim, searching for scars or abrasions they both clearly see are not there.

 “Go on then.” Mal says after having her fill of basking in the poor girl's quiet desperation.

 “Beg pardon?” Audrey's voice is this breathy little confused whisper and it does sinful things to Mal's body.

 “You're not too dignified to grovel? Then grovel. I wanna hear it.” The skin beneath her fingers tremors slightly. 

 “How…?” 

 “You're a clever girl.” Mal darts her tongue over the smooth point of her teeth, wishing they were still the fearsome weapons she earned herself. “Figure it out.” 

 Audrey's perfectly shaped brows immediately draw in on themselves, her eyes sliding shut and energy vibrating as she puts genuine effort into the task. Raking her mind for something to say, searching for something to feed the beast. She only dwells on it for a few seconds before her brows reset, but her eyes stay closed as she says, “The first time I saw you.” 

 “There's my girl, go on.” Mal rewards the obedience with a small bit of magic, giving into what Audrey's aura was so blatantly begging of her and releasing some of that hazy mind numbing effect her hoard was so very fond of. It was nothing for her, like closing an open palm into a fist, or scrunching her nose. She could feel the energy transfer, subtle with such a low dosage, giving her access to every minute feeling and errant thought that ran through the girl's head. 

 Audrey took a breath, visibly relaxing a bit under the gift. It no doubt made the next part a bit easier. “The first time I saw you I was enamored. I remember it so clearly, I couldn't look away. Ben told me that morning that we were going to meet the four villain kids before their first day of school out on the pavilion. Welcome them to Auradon. He said I had to be there as his future wife. I didn't really want to go, I thought he was insane for bringing you over, I thought - and so I'm walking down the stairs and I'm expecting to see - I don't know really. Someone more pathetic. Or pitiful. Or outwardly malicious in that grotesque fairytale way they had taught us. And instead I see you.” 

 Mal watches her eyes open, looking right over the top of her head, smack dab in the middle of her horns, seemingly caught up in the memory. Her pretty chocolate brown eyes are already glazed over, a light shining layer of tears blurring her vision. She keeps up the gentle touches to the girl's torso, at this point abandoning the pretense of checking for self harm scars, instead completely enraptured by the control she has over the woman before her.

 “And you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.” When Audrey continues her voice is soft with reverence, and Mal's beast is purring in contentment. “I saw you and I couldn't see anything else. It was only muscle memory and years of training that stopped me from tumbling over my own heels like some little school girl. There was something about you - there always had been - something in your eyes where I'd look at them and I'd see the whole world just laid out in front of me. It was like cold water in the desert, like warm fire in the snow. It was magic. A magic so raw and free and beautiful that pulled me in so fast and so strong I thought I'd drown in it. I quite literally had to wrench my eyes away from you, I had to fight with every scrap of willpower that life as a monarch had battered into me, and I just barely managed. And when I could finally look away, I turn to the side and I see Ben, going through the same thing I just clawed myself out of. Except he wasn't trying to look away. And I was just so-” 

 Her breath hitches and it's pitiful and it's beautiful and Mal practices great restraint to not kiss her in that very moment. 

 “I was just so angry in that moment. I felt so helpless. Because how can I even begin to compete with that?” Her voice is seesawing right on the edge of wet, dripping in vulnerability and raw emotion. 

 And Mal is borne of chaos and she revels in the aching wound that honesty can bring and so she says, “You couldn't.”

 A sob pounds at Audrey's chest, steals her breath, and Mal gives her a little push of magic to make her inhale a bit easier as she breaks. “I couldn't.” She concedes quietly. “Can't.” 

 She's so gorgeous, eyes clenched shut, hands trembling as she tries to hold up her shirt, lips pursed as she tries to keep whimpers at bay, she's so beautiful that Mal can't not pull the girl into her lap. She goes easily, like a puppet with their strings cut. Mal sweeps her legs over the chaise to lay back properly and pulls her down in one fell swoop, looping strong arms around her gentle frame.

 She couldn't believe that she created such a specimen. What a gift. Audrey pushes her wet face into the curve of Mal's neck, immediately dampening the skin. Her little body is shaking in Mal's hold, heaving in this stilted stuttering motion that makes Mal push just a bit more magic into her. Just until her breathing evens out, stops sounding like taking air into her lungs is a painful and laborious effort.

 Mal runs the pads of her fingers over exposed skin, there's so much of it now, the length of her neck as it elongates to push closer, the strip of abdomen now uncovered as the silk pajama top hitches up further and further from her squirming, the curve of her thighs as the muscles under smooth skin flex. She drinks it in, feeling every bit like the greedy possessive creature she was predisposed to be. This was hers. This belonged to her, for her to cradle and nurture. 

 Audrey clings to her like a lifeline, her acrylics digging into the flesh of Mal's shoulders. It barely hurts, Mal's pain tolerance is so high it's laughable, and it seems to help the girl regulate herself so Mal doesn't admonish her for it. Just runs a soothing hand over her back, paying close attention to her energy to make sure she didn't overdo the magic usage. 

 There's a long stretch of time where neither of them says a word. Mal likes causing distress and watching tears fall as much as the next mistress of evil, but the fact still remains that Audrey was fragile, and in all actually had done nothing wrong recently. Her blossoming rose had been perfectly well behaved for a while now, really the woman was due for a reward. The least Mal could do was allow her to catch her breath.

 Audrey shatters the silence with what amounts to hushed tones of garbled nonsense. The little ditz didn't seem to think it necessary to pull her mouth away from the incessant press into the skin of Mal's throat. It dampens whatever sentiment she was trying to express, rendering it completely incomprehensible. Mal doesn't roll her eyes because she's feeling nice, but it does take some effort.

 “I can't hear you, small one.” A nickname that Audrey seemed to favor, that really originated from the fact that Mal's horns, muscle, and extra magical inches make their already noticeable size difference downright laughable. Jay also stole it from her like the dirty fucking thief he was, but she could understand considering the man was so stupidly massive that whenever he would hold Audrey or Chad or any of their Auradon darlings really, they would be swallowed up by his biceps alone.

 Audrey pushes out a sigh, and Mal can imagine her pretty soft features scrunching up as she gathers the strength to lift her head. “I was obsessed with you.” She says quietly, not quite a whisper but still a near thing.

 Mal hums, a noise of interest, but a noncommittal sound. She won't pry, has done her share of tormenting for the night, her beast suitably fed for the time being. But if Audrey was intent on tormenting herself for Mal's sake, well she certainly wasn't going to argue.

 “I'd stare at you. Trial behind you.” She says it like a confession and Mal nods. She remembers, Auradonians were never subtle even despite their best efforts. “It was pathetic really. I had this journal where I would take notes. ‘Today she wore her hair up. Her face is so angular I feel like if I touched her cheekbones my finger would come away bleeding. With her hair out of the way her eyes are even more striking. Every time she catches me staring I glare and huff. She must think me airheaded - silly.’” 

 It sounds like she's reciting, like a direct quote that she'd memorized, and Mal tilts her head to the side, properly intrigued. “You re-read your entries a lot.” 

 It wasn't a question, but Audrey is humming an affirmative anyway. “I did. Like some demented test I was studying for. 101 reasons my boyfriend was going to leave me. I'd write and write and re-read like a woman possessed, I'd pretend I wasn't just as enraptured with you as Benji. We were with each other, but we were both so entirely focused on you. I think that was the worst part - that I understood. If there was some grand mystery as to why he wouldn't look at me like he looks at you, I think I'd feel better. I could have convinced myself of a hundred different more digestible realities. It was knowing. It was understanding. Being a victim of the same phenomenon, but stuck on the sidelines instead of being the center of it all.”

 “And now look at you, princess.” Audrey used to flinch when Mal called her that. No one addressed her by that title anymore, save for Jay. The girl didn't even think of herself as a princess anymore, and hadn't for quite some time. Audrey didn't flinch now, but her skin did heat under Mal's fingers. Blushing. “At the center of it all.” 

 “I'm not.” She mutters, sounding worn out. She hasn't moved her face nearly enough for Mal to see her expressions, but she could feel it in her energy. The sadness, soft and expansive, like a sponge holding too much liquid. 

 “You are right now. You have my undivided attention.” Mal snakes a hand under her silky tank top, running the blunt tips of her claws over the bare skin underneath. “Among other things.” 

 Audrey's breath hitches. “Thank you, my Queen.”

 Mal grins, ready to sink her teeth into her girl before she realizes something and her mouth pulls into a pensive line. “I don't have that journal. We never found it, I never even knew it existed.” The fact that they'd ransacked her room was left unsaid, though the girl was well aware.

 Audrey's body tenses and then releases just as quickly. “I burned it.” She whispers, tendrils of fear wrapped in her quiet words. “Way before you…a long time ago. A while after you and Ben got together. I was with Chad - I was happy with him, and I came across it again after so much time and I was…I was ashamed of myself. Of the whole thing. I'm sorry, I'm sure it would have provided you with great amusement.”

 It would have. Mal would pay good money to read it just once, just to satiate that curiosity that burned inside of her. Just how obsessed was her little rose back in the day? With her school girl hate boner for fresh off the boat Mal, the girl who would grow into the queen. But fae and gods alike didn't really make a habit of lamenting over the past unless a grudge was involved.

  Mal had in her arms an older Audrey, no longer a girl, fully grown into a woman, even more beautiful, even smarter and meaner and brilliant and still perfectly enraptured with Mal. This Audrey was here, and she was hers and she was barely clothed.

 “Would you like to amuse me another way, Audria?” 

 Arousal. The sticky syrupy energy rolled off her aura in waves, desperate and frantic and pure. Mal’s favorite thing about energies and auras was how specific they were. Arousal was such a base human emotion, and yet the complexity of human nature allowed each person’s version of it to feel so different. And with her magic being so strong, and her lovers being so claimed, the sensation was so cloying she could almost taste it. Audrey’s need was sweet like honey,  flowery and soft like the woman it belonged to, warm like velvet and cashmere. Like the perfect little angel she is, she pulls back so Mal can see her face when she answers.

 “Yes, please.” She said it so sweetly Mal couldn't possibly deny her. Love truly was a weakness. Luckily when one was as powerful as her, it was one they could afford to indulge.

 Mal finally allowed herself to succumb to the desire that had been pushing at her senses all night long. She tightened her grip on Audrey's waist until it was just shy of painful, then, careful to mind her horns, she ducked her head down, slotted her mouth onto Audrey’s exposed open neck and bit down hard. The result was glorious. The skin was tender under her fangs, smooth and soft, smelling so uniquely of Audria, the smell of cherries and beauty and fear. She could feel the skin begin to bruise the longer she clamped down, could feel the way Audrey's body began to shake in gentle confusion, unsure why it would enjoy this tender hurting. And the noises. Pained little stuttering half moans, choked and tear soaked and needy. Just for Mal. 

 She loosens her jaw before she could get ahead of herself. Her crew can take pain for hours, would gladly suffer under her hands. Her hoard is made for gentler touches, used to a softer love. So she stops biting and begins to suck and kiss along Audrey's neck instead. Slow and methodical, occasionally grazing an open mouth kiss over the initial angry bite so she could soak in the warm magnificence of the inflamed skin. Just a bit harder, the smallest increase in force and she could have drawn blood. Could have lapped it up and kissed this beautiful woman with her life still on her tongue. Audrey would have let her, would have blushed and squirmed and cried but never said no. 

 Mal would never understand why someone would want to force themselves onto someone when making them want you was so much more fulfilling. The fact that Audrey, once so prim and proper, who once hated Mal's guts and yet followed her every move, the fact that she could stop this at any moment with a single word, at no consequence and has chosen not to, made every small cry of pain even sweeter. Made every kiss more tantalizing. 

 There were too many layers of clothes between them, Mal decided quickly. She presses her palms firmly against Audrey's shoulders and the girl sits up with a pouty frown, obviously displeased with the sudden lack of contact despite her obedience. Mal chuckles while she works her own shirt over her head. Bras, the lacy frilly push up kind, were a notably Auradion luxury that Mal personally had no interest in partaking in. She owned exactly one of them, in plain black, that Evie had purchased for her and sometimes coaxes her into for special events. After a day of basic kingdom-running, paperwork and strategy, the only thing awaiting under her tank top was a plain sports bra. Audrey's shocked eyes still doubled in size, openly staring at her bare torso. 

 “Holy shit.” She whispered, transfixed. Her brows furrowed slightly, like she wasn't quite sure if she said it out loud, but she didn't have the wherewithal to be embarrassed at the moment. That honey velvet feel of arousal coming off her multiplied by at least tenfold, Mal felt like she was drowning in the flowery warm scent. 

 “Oh, you're adorable. Come here.” They moved so fast Mal genuinely can't tell whether she had pulled Audrey onto her or if the woman had fallen into Mal's arms. 

 It didn't matter. Not with clawfuls of warm soft willing flesh in her hands, soft girlish moaning in her ears, flushed stuttered breaths on her neck. Mal kissed, bit and sucked every inch of skin she could reach, hands wandering and pushing any offending piece of clothing out of the way to make space for her conquest. Audrey's body was pushed firmly against hers, the woman trying every passing second to get impossibly closer.

 Her mind was so open. Mal had some pretty powerful mind magic, and those close to her bore the disadvantage of being claimed by fae magic, they were impossibly susceptible to her will. But typically she at least had to pry in order to read her lover's thoughts. Audrey's mind was practically speaking to her , cutting itself open to bare her deepest thoughts and desires and all of it was centered around her. 

  Please.

Please. 

This was worth my kingdom.

This was worth my life.

That's crazy.

You've made me crazy, you've changed me, I'll never be the same.

 I don't care anymore. How could I care when this is what change has brought about.

Please.

Please never stop.

Please take it all.

Please keep touching me.

Please keep wanting me.

I can't believe you wanted me.

It's so good.

Don't stop.

 It was the delirious ramblings of a woman drunk on magic, desire and desperation.

 Mal groaned, stifling the urge to tip her head back like Jay with his fuckboy nonsense. She bites down again instead, this time on Audrey's shoulder - it didn't matter where really, she just sunk teeth into the first bit of flesh that would give. Audrey cries out, and Mal tastes the telltale sweet metallic tang of blood. Her tongue darts out to lap up her prize but she remembers herself, pausing and listening to her lover's mind and body. Her hoard typically didn't like to bleed like her crew, and so Mal waited, expecting a tearful plea to stop, readies her hands to disentangle from Audrey's body. She could call Evie to look after the girl, would buy the former princess something frilly and lush to make it up to her, right after Mal finds Jay and pushes him into their bed to make him ache instead. Audrey says nothing, the pain pushing her into teary sniffles and whining, but her mind is still perfectly open.

  You stopped. And even in her own mind she sounds so thoroughly wrecked. Don't stop. This is what I gave everything up for. This is what makes everything worth it. Please don't stop. Please don't stop. Please, please, please, please -

  Mal tightens her grip again, lapping at the leaking blood, drinking up the resulting cries and trying to tame her beast. If Audrey keeps being so wonderfully adoringly pathetic, Mal won't be able to stop herself from flipping them over and drilling her through this damn chaise lounge. There was only so much willpower one fae could employ. There was only so much she could do to stop herself when this beautiful woman was here, worshiping at the altar of her love, devoted in her gratitude, desperate to please and be pleased. 

 “I watched you back in school too Audria.” She says into her skin between kisses. “Always so uptight, always so unstrung, always so unhappy.” As she says it Audrey cries a little harder, and Mal redirects her attention, kissing tears from her face and relishing the salty taste. “Everyone around you denied you pleasure. Told you it was selfish, wrong, dirty, unbecoming. No one would let you feel good. Poor little rosebud. Would you like me to make you feel good?” 

  Yes yes yes yes -

“ Yes.” Audrey's voice is this unsteady little tear soaked thing and it's absolutely precious. “Yes, please. My Queen, please.”

 It's beautiful. It's almost perfect - missing something so small, something that she had been mulling over in her mind for a few weeks now. In that single moment, fueled by magic, desire and passion, Mal has made up her mind.

 “Mal.” She says definitively, though her voice is low enough to be considered a growl.

 Audrey's heart stutters. Mal can literally hear it, like a steady beat skipping. There's a cold creeping fear threatening to tamper down the rising heat of her need, and Mal stamps it out as soon as she feels it. Her hand is curling around Audrey's throat before she can even think, pulling the woman's face up so they're eye to eye. Audrey's pupils are blown, warm brown eyes swimming with tears and heat and trepidation.

 “Mal.” Mal repeats, holding eye contact. “Maleficent. Say my name while I make you forget yours.” 

 “I-” Audrey chokes on the words, the very possibility. Mal can feel the tightness of her chest, the quickening of her breath. She can see the disbelief in the downturn of her brow and the look in her eyes. Can hear the swirling thoughts, wondering if this was some sort of test she could fail, some joke she didn't understand, some ire she has unknowingly incurred. She can feel underneath all of that, the excitement stirring below the surface. The quiet understanding of the honor she couldn't quite believe she was about to be bestowed. 

 “My Queen - you really mean...” Audrey worries her damn lip again, and Mal has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. When Audrey speaks again, it's so soft that it's barely audible. It's so vulnerable that Mal feels her cold heart tighten. “You mean it?” 

 “Your heart is mine to safeguard.” Mal says firmly, as soft as she can manage. “And I would not abuse it in this way, to give you this only to take it away without due cause. I want to hear it. Say my name. Tell me who it is that's making you feel so good, small one.”

 Audrey had managed to halt her tears in whatever hailstorm of fear and shock she had just been in, but with Mal's words her eyes immediately filled again. 

 “Maleficent.” Her voice, small and shaking, is unsteady as she tries out the name. It strikes Mal at once that this may very well be the first time Audrey was saying her full name in any capacity.  Auradon for all its faults at least seemed to acknowledge the power in a name, and so her mother lived in frantic whispers of the “Mistress of Evil” or “The Dark Fae”. She can't imagine it was any different in Audrey’s uptight and superstitious household. 

 The realization sends a shiver down her spine, and her eyes flash green, claws sharpening a bit despite herself. Thankfully the skin of Audrey’s neck remains unbroken, but a small noise is punched out of the girl at the unexpected change. Her wide eyes rake across Mal's face, searching for any displeasure or anger, anything to indicate she'd just made a grave mistake. When Mal flashes teeth at her in a predator's grin, Audrey releases a shiver of her own.

 “Maleficent.” She says again, still barley above a whisper but now more sure of herself. She laughs once, like she can't quite help herself. Then suddenly her face crumples and she crashes in on herself. Mal's hand is still around her throat, and it's the only thing keeping her upright as her body sinks, a powerful sob ripping from her throat. Her energy crackles and flickers, full of the emotion too monumental to keep inside. 

 “I'm sorry.” She moans lowly. Maleficent. She chants in her mind. Maleficent. Maleficent. Maleficent. “I'm so sorry.” 

 “You're alright.” Mal affirms quietly. When she moves her other hand to wipe gently at Audrey's tears she feels like she's touching a cracked window pane. Too much pressure and it would shatter. This was not a job of claws and teeth. Mal would rise to the occasion regardless. “It's okay.” 

  Maleficent. “I've never - I'm sorry.” Audrey paused, short of breath and unable to force the words out. She couldn't seem to stop the tears, sobs pushed at her throat demanding freedom as soon as she began to tamper them down. Maleficent. Maleficent. “I've never even thought of you like this. I knew at any point you could be poking around my mind so -” Maleficent. Maleficent, Maleficent, Maleficent. “ So I've never even thought of you without your title. My Queen, Her Highness, Her Majesty, High Queen, My…” Owner. Maleficent. Mal. Maleficent.

  “Please, Maleficent.” She pushes it out through a wall of emotion, completely overwhelmed.

 This time Mal is absolutely sure, she was the one who pulled Audrey in. Her kiss is searing, a claiming and cathartic experience. It was a kiss full of the energy of a circle finally complete. Audrey opens her mouth without any prompting and Mal's tongue spells promises into the space made for her. 

 “Thank you. Thank you, Maleficent.” Audrey cries desperately when Mal's mouth moves again, down her neck, over her chest, trailing her torso. “Mal. Mal, please.”

 “ If you don't want me to flip us over, tell me right now.” Mal hisses intently, separating them long enough to make grave eye contact. “I will respect your autonomy, I will leave for long enough to cool down, I'll send one of the others to care for you. I'd be back within the hour to hold you close to me, let you listen to my heartbeat, run my fingers through your hair, all of that soft domestic shit. I won't hold it against you, I won't be upset. But you need to tell me, and you need to do it now, because if not I'm going to flip us over and the entire waitstaff is about to find out how my name sounds in your mouth. Do you understand me?”

 Audrey blinks away tears, swallows thickly and nods. Then, in a quiet intense whisper. “Please don't stop, Mal.” 

 Mal grins, her beast preening, her magic pulsing, her eyes glowing. She doesn't even think before flipping them over in one swift movement, so quick it was like the position had always been so. 

 She seldom could deny her hoard anything when they asked so sweetly.

Chapter Text

 In polite society, it's very rude to stare. It's usually the first hint of minding your manners a child learns, right along with don't pick your nose and don't lift your shirt and no you can't point at her, yes I know her hair is very tall. No matter how interesting, or gaudy, or otherwise different a person may be, after a certain, socially acceptable moment of time lapses it's simply improper to stare at them any longer. Speak or look down. Sometimes both depending on the status of the person in question.

 For Ben, the lesson never really stuck. Ben was a curious kid, who grew into an observant teen and then a perceptive man, and for a large majority of that time Ben was the crown prince of Auradon and no one, save for his strict father or a flustered Miss Pots, could tell him off for his behavior, rude or otherwise. Consequently, he'd always had a bit of a staring problem. He was a detail-oriented person, and the quick glances and sidelong peeks acceptable in aristocratic spheres weren't nearly long enough for him to catalog observations like he needed to.

 Fortunately, he was well equipped with the charm to get away with such a transgression. Vanity never held any appeal to him, but contrary to popular belief he wasn't naive. Ben knew what he looked like. He was handsome in the boyish way that exudes innocence, all soft features and rounded angles, and he made sure to play that to his advantage. He practiced soft smiles, accompanied with the appropriate finishing touches - the way his nose would scrunch, or his eyes would shine. 

 Ironically his eyes were his biggest advantage. His eyes that he could control with practiced ease, that he could carefully scrub of every intelligent thought until all that was left was exactly the kind of empty-minded wonder everyone expected of him. He had the kind of gaze most people didn't mind when it lingered. His eyes were big, soulful and gentle. Pretty. The kind that when they glanced your way and held fast instead of darting off, you found yourself flattered. Oftentimes enamored. It worked remarkably well in Ben's favor. 

 He could be peering right into a person's soul, and they'd be so busy blushing they'd be none the wiser.

 Right now he was staring right at the back of Lonnie's head. For as long as he'd known her, Lonnie had impeccable posture. In class she would sit impossibly straight, like a wooden pole was attached to her back. When she stood, she stood tall like a statue, unshakable and immovable. She was an ever-rising flame, burning bright as long as oxygen could pass through her. Ben always found it impressive. He had an unfortunately strong affliction to strength and power, the raw and explosive kind he was never quite allowed to possess as the soft spoken prince of the people, and so he had an immeasurable amount of respect for Lonnie, who seemed to have it dripping off of her. 

 That's why it was so disconcerting watching her hunch miserably in on herself. 

 She looked small. They all shared one large bed - more than large enough to comfortably fit four people despite the rarity that it would ever have to hold any more - and Lonnie was hugging a small corner, the one nearest to the door. Her hair was still wet and limp from the shower, falling lamely over her back and creating a sizable damp spot on her silky black pajama top. She'd gotten first dibs on the bathroom  tonight, followed closely by Ben, and then finally the meandering fae and dwarf-kin who seemed in no rush at all. A soft, rich purple blanket was skewed half-heartedly over her bottom half, leaving her torso exposed. Her arms were wrapped tightly around a mid-sized emerald green pillow, which she clutched close to her chest. She doesn't make a sound. It looks like all the oxygen has been sucked out of her. 

 In his own little hemisphere, still perched on the bed, but mindful of the space Lonnie so obviously craved, Ben stares. 

 He wants to reach out. To try and stoke the flames in what used to be this inferno of a woman he admired. He wants to pull her to his chest, the way he'd done with Jane when the bright fae got too quiet and pensive, or with Doug when he couldn't seem to meet anyone's eyes. His eyes follow the curve of her spine, the line of her back that he's used to seeing strong and proud, he notes how it bends in on itself like a shrinking shadow. She's almost curved around the pillow with the way she's laying, like it's some precious thing she's been tasked with guarding.

 The shower is still running, the gentle sound of water battering tile doing a poor job of covering the girlish giggles coming from the bathroom, and the occasional thump of something - or someone - hitting a flat surface. The two are probably trying to be quiet, if he listens hard enough he thinks he can hear innocuous but otherwise entirely conspicuous shushing. They probably would have succeeded in the task if he weren't paying attention, or if there was a conversation going in here to drown out the noise. Unfortunately for them, the warrior that they bed with wasn't much for conversation at the moment.

 Ben smiles at their effort anyway, small and genuine and undeniably fond. Unlike his father, he was never prone to jealousy, even before Mal had come over and shook the foundational core of what he knew to be love. What remained unshakably true was he loved to witness the ones he loved expressing joy, however that may be. He'd tease Jane and Doug later for their lack of subtlety, and his lack of an invite later.

 The gentle part of him that sat at his core, guarded closely by his heart, desperately wished he could pull a similar reaction out of Lonnie. To see a bright fire so completely put out was heartbreaking in a special kind of way. Subtle, but not at all gentle. He wishes for a joke, or gesture that he could offer her, to soothe the ache he knew was growing inside of her chest and spreading through her body like a sickness.

 Ben was very well accustomed to guilt. He knew firsthand the way it could cripple you.

 “I can feel you staring.” Lonnie says tensely. She pushes the words out like they hurt, but she doesn't turn when she says them, doesn't so much as glance his way. Her back rises and falls in gentle waves that match the pattern of her breathing.

 “Sorry.” He offered unapologetically. He watches in wary interest as the muscles in her back tense. In his own mind he imagines how her eyes narrowed.

 “You're such a fucking liar, Ben.” She spits so bitterly that if Ben wasn't accustomed to Carlos and his venomous tone, he might have flinched. Instead he sighs, quiet and inward so she doesn't hear. He has a sneaking suspicion he knows the exact path this conversation is walking, and he's not exactly eager to fan the flame if there was even a sliver of a chance he could avoid it.

 “I'll stop staring.” He says instead of acknowledging the accusation. He was a liar, an unfortunate trait that predated the Isle kids coming over and only grew worse once Mal Bertha entered his life. He decided ages ago to stop feeling bad about it. Really he didn't lie to his fellow birds though, not when he could help it. Figures their villainous lovers lied to them more than enough, there really was no reason to be anything but perfectly honest with each other. Something tells him Lonnie wouldn't appreciate that sentiment at the moment, so he keeps it to himself.

 Lonnie is staring at him so intently with a scowl that wavers just enough to let him know this isn't just about him lying though. It can never be simple like that, Ben's luck wasn't nearly so favorable. “Did you know?” She finally asks, her voice tight like the muscles in her back. 

 He blinks, slightly taken aback despite himself. “What?” 

 It's like a spring had been activated inside of her the way she whips around and turns on him in righteous fury. Her eyes are smoldering, lit up with a familiar anger, clouded with an impulsive and unsteady kind of rage that he has to fight the urge to placate. “Don't play dumb, that shit doesn't work on me.” It never did, she would always look at him sort of strangely when he did it back in the day. She was always just a hair too perceptive to fall for it, it was just as intriguing as it was unsettling. “Did you know? Back when everything was normal, back before all this destruction and death - while you were cuddling up to that purple haired freak -”

 Ben instinctively flinches, eyes darting around the room as if he expects Mal to suddenly appear. He wouldn't put it past her honestly - she was more than petty enough. 

 “-did you know that they would snatch your kingdom from your hands and turn you into a  prisoner in your own home? Make you a laughing stock to your own subjects? Did you know that this was the plan?” Lonnie pays him no mind, too caught up in her passionate rage, gesticulating wildly and nearly hitting him in the process. It's a stark contrast to the very purposeful and composed way she usually carries herself. And Ben - well Ben sighs. 

 Because they'd had variations of this very conversation too many times to reasonably keep track of. And it never ends well. In that moment he desperately wants to lie to her. “No, I could have never even begun to imagine the horrors they'd carry out on the throne.” He could say, with tears welling up in his innocent pitiable eyes. “They said they wanted to change and I believed them.” 

 She'd believe it this time around, because she'd really want to. 

 “I knew most of it, guessed the rest.” He stretches his body out along the length of the bed, making himself comfortable despite the growing pit in his stomach. With any luck Doug and Jane would be too busy with their giggly shower activities to be caught in the crossroads of this absolute train-wreck. “I knew they were going to take over Auradon. I knew most of the major political figures and monarchs would be dethroned or imprisoned. I knew they'd lift the magic ban, I knew they'd drop the barrier and I knew they'd storm Auradon Prep. Didn't know when. Didn't know what they'd do with the students or how long the monarchs would sit in cells stewing - but I could guess.”

 Lonnie glared at his even tone, clearly unsatisfied with his simplified response. Her fingers twitched, as if eager to lash out and Ben studies her hands with quiet consideration. Would this end in a physical altercation? He'd let her swing at him if that would truly ease this burden she was carrying. He was part beast, with Carlos as a trainer, it wasn't like he couldn't take a hit. The way her arms shook with the strain of stilling them when all they wanted to do was grab and push and destroy - it actually reminded him quite a bit of Carlos. He didn't dare voice such an observation out loud. Lonnie would undoubtedly not appreciate the comparison.

 “The fires?” She challenged, and he almost knew it was coming. The question still kicks the air out of his lungs, forcing him to dredge up old revelations he desperately wanted to remain buried.

 “I didn't know for sure, but I could guess.” Ben said softly, with an air of calmness he didn't feel. The fires were a hard time for him, having to stand by his lover's side and watch entire cities burn to the ground for insubordination. Most of the time the towns would be abandoned by the time the Court arrived, having been warned off and evacuated. Sometimes that wasn't the case. He still had nightmares about the heat blazing against his skin and the screams ringing in his ears. “They tried to hide some of it from me early on. Just how violent they could get. Even what they did let slip through the cracks seemed very purposeful. Never even scratched the surface. But I wasn't stupid and - well they’re not exactly merciful are they?” 

 “They're monsters.” Lonnie says.

 “They are.” Ben nods simply. His agreement seemed to take the wind out of her sails, her hands finally untensing. He watched her pick at the comforter, scraping up lint and glaring at the distinctive purple hue. He's waiting, knows the eye of a storm when he sees one. There's a long stretch of silence, not quite tense, but not quite comfortable either. Just the uneasy middle ground they seem to walk together so often now. It puts him on edge, and he can't shake the uneasy feeling that in these silences the micro-thin layer of ice under his feet cracks again and he's closer than ever before to plunging into the freezing water that makes up the extensive list of things Lonnie hates with every fiber of her being. It's a wonder he hasn't made it there yet - he definitely deserves it.

 Finally Lonnie looks up at him again, something small and vulnerable buried under the anger that still resides in her eyes. “Did you know they would take me?” 

 “No.” He’s grateful it isn't a lie. He likes to think he wouldn't lie to her about this, but he's also painfully aware that the wrong answer to this particular question would land him firmly on that dreaded list, and he's just selfish enough to try his damndest to avoid that fate. “They don't really tell me things like that. Things they don't really need my help with.” 

 “Did you guess, then?”  There's something there, sitting underneath her skin. Something insistent and desperate clawing its way to the surface in the way that she's needling him. She's absolutely clinging onto the anger she's feeling, holding it close to her chest like that pillow - like an anchor keeping her grounded. 

 She needs to feel angry, he realizes with startling clarity, needs to have someone she can lash out.

 And Ben so desperately wants to give her what she needs. 

 He glances off quickly in the direction of the bathroom. Pounding water and muffled whispers. He meets Lonnie's eyes. “I knew they'd take your kingdom from you and I knew they'd  let the Huns take the territory.” Years of media training means his voice is clear and steady. He doesn't go for bored or disinterested, Lonnie would see right through that, but he could do calm. “I knew they'd lock your parents up and strip them of their honor. They told me what would happen to each kingdom's leader one at a time. Usually at night, after a long day, it was some kind of fucked up loyalty test I think. I'm sure Jay just liked to watch me react while I processed, he'd watch my face change like it was the most amusing thing in the world and just laugh to himself. So yes, I knew and I still helped them take the crown. I lied to the public and to my people, I betrayed my parents and my kingdom. I passed the legislation they asked me to pass, I distracted the people they told me to distract, and when the time came I stepped down from my position to allow them the space to take it. I did it of my own free will - no potions, no spells and no threats on my life. I knew and I did it anyway.” 

 “You -” Lonnie's voice was heavy and choked up, it was like a knife through his heart to hear. “I know that.” 

 Ben nods. “I know you do. You asked me anyway.” It's okay, I know you're angry. He thinks. I can take it.

 “I didn't-.” She purses her lips, takes a deep breath in and exhales slowly. “Did you know - guess - that they would take me? That I'd be trapped here and…paraded around like some trophy, bringing shame and dishonor to my fallen kingdom? Did you help them do it?” 

 Yes. Ben wants to lie again. He'd take the blame, and bear the brunt of the resulting anger and resentment. It would be easier for her to swallow at the very least. Lonnie had a terrible habit of asking questions she didn't want the answer to, a trait he had long grown out of. He so badly wants to lie to her. To tell her what she wants to hear so everything fits neatly in a digestible little t-chart of right and wrong.

 But no matter what she may want, what she deserved was forever and always the truth.

  “I didn't know.” He admits quietly, then lapses into silence. He tries to push forward and falls flat, mouth shutting and lips pulling into a frown. He takes a deep breath. “ I couldn't have guessed. Not really. They didn't talk about you very much at first. I was told in passing that you'd started a rebellion, about three days before you made the news. I tried to ask what would happen to you - tried to needle it out of them. But they’d just brush me off, give me a knowing look. You know that thing they do.”

  Lonnie nods her assent. “I fucking hate when they do that.”

 “Preaching to the choir.” He allowed himself an indulgent eye-roll. “Eventually they started talking about you more. Started actively tracking you down, keeping tabs on rumors about where you planned to be. They’d bring you up randomly over breakfast, or while Evie combed my hair after a shower, when I was catching my breath during training - it was always very casual. And the way they talked about you…” He frowned at the memory. “It was so indifferent. It was Li Lonnie and her little rebellion, her little freedom fighters. Like you were this little pebble that needed to be removed from their shoe, or some fly to swat away. ‘When are we going to nip our little Lonnie problem in the bud?’ Carlos said over dinner one day. He had his mouth half full. And Jay laughed, and I just remember feeling sicker than I’ve ever felt in my life. Every couple of weeks a new rebellion was being disbanded. It was more violence than I was used to in my entire life. Leaders were being dragged out into the streets in front of civilians and shot, or being whisked off and beheaded on live television and I had to stand there and watch. The cameras would always zoom in on my face because having the precious sheltered spoil of war cry was good press. Crank would always stare right at me with this shit-eating grin. And here you were leading your own rebellion despite those odds. Please don’t take this personally, but I couldn’t for the life of me understand how you kept evading them. I didn’t understand, but fucking light I was grateful. I was so sure if they caught you…”

 “They'd kill me.” Lonnie finishes lamely, expression unreadable. 

 “I didn't want to attend your execution.” He said, offering a small sad smile. “I wouldn't have been able to - to hold myself together. I would have done something rash, possibly on live television. The consequences would have been devastating. For me obviously but also for…” He glances off in the direction of the bathroom. “I was willing to do a lot of things to make sure it would never come to that. Almost anything.” 

 There’s a lapse of silence where Lonnie seems to digest, while Ben steadies his breathing and tamps down the tears wanting to rise. Eventually her eyes dawn in realization. “They kept it from you on purpose. Wanting me.”

 His smile turns bitter, and he swallows the residual anger that crawls up his throat like bile, acrid and foul and burning at the touch. “More than likely. I think it was to toughen me up or something. Put some of the Isle in me. I don't know if this helps or not, but I'm pretty sure their plan was to have you all along. I think they always wanted you. It worked out for them, I suppose. I did some things I’m not proud of in order to keep you safe.”

 “Like what?” Lonnie asks. Her voice is all morbid curiosity and apprehension.

 “Papers would disappear.” Ben says after a moment, his voice even but barely above a whisper. “Letters would go up in flames with the ashes spread across the garden. Documents vanishing without a trace, files getting corrupted. I'd get really lovesick and needy so Evie would stay in to comfort me instead of out to find you. Made myself sick once, downed one of Evie's potions so I was spewing my guts out. They didn't even consider leaving the castle that day even though you were right there in Central Auradon. You definitely owe me for that one.” He laughs half-heartedly, but the attempt dies no sooner than it begins, snuffed out by the weight of his next confession. 

 “Someone even lost their life.” 

 The following silence is so heavy it squeezes the air out of his lungs and makes him lightheaded. “Ben, did you…” Lonnie can't seem to push any words out after that, but her eyes say enough.

 “Yes.” His throat feels like he gargled sandpaper. “No. I mean - I might as well have. They didn't televise the death. Happened too quickly, it was a split second thing. It had to be. Hans’ son, Fritz, came to visit the castle with his brothers. He knew where you were - and you were so stupidly close, you would have never had time to evacuate. I remember I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All I could see was you, on the ground with your head bowed, for the first time in your whole life unable to stand strong. One bullet and you'd never meet anyone's eyes ever again. I just acted. I had a pocket knife, a birthday gift from Carlos that he actually let me carry around. Sharp enough to split a hair. I cut my own throat, put myself in his path knowing he couldn't resist picking a fight with someone weaker than him. He just happened to be all alone. He thought Mal did it to me, saw me with my own blood on my shaking hands, crying my eyes out and thought it was some fucked up punishment. I let him mock me loud enough to attract crowd of people, let him back me into a wall and -” 

 He swallows dry, tears stinging the back of his eyes. He's never once told this story, or even acknowledged what he did out loud. How he killed a man out of his own free will. Planned it down to the second. “I cried wolf. As you can imagine once they saw the blood they didn't really feel the need to fact check. He died screaming - I'm not even really sure what Mal did to him, but Jane said it was really old magic. His brothers watched, I've never seen anyone cry that hard before. It was terrible.” 

 A sob fights it's way out of his chest and he tampers it down with frustration and years of practice. Warm wet tears track down his face at an alarming rate and he wipes them away nearly as fast as they come, all but digging the heel of his hand into the tender flesh below his eyes in his efforts. He will not break down when this whole thing was supposed to be for Lonnie. Lonnie asked, and Ben answered and that's all. He will have some self control.

 He takes a slightly ragged inhale, but by the time he finds it in himself to exhale his breathing is steady and calm. When he meets Lonnie's eyes again they're full of something he'd seen plenty of, something he was getting resigned to seeing for the rest of his life. Pity. Achingly raw, horribly genuine, terribly concerned pity, laid out right in front of him. He doesn't laugh, not quite - it's more like an unsteady exhale with only the bare bones of amusement dancing around the edges.

 “Ben, I'm so sorry. You should have never had to do that.” She’s extended her body towards him, as if he's some wounded animal she's reaching out to cradle. As if he's the one who needs help from her. The one thing that could bring her out of her little corner of sacred bedspace, and it's Ben's unbearable tendency to be a crybaby. Her own kindness even despite his betrayal of everything she knows to be good and just. What a woman. 

 He's already shaking his head before she can do something as terribly misguided as apologizing to the man who had a hand in destroying her life. A small smile tugs on his lips despite his melancholy. He was his mother's son after all. He couldn’t help but smile in the face of beauty.

 “You don't have to be sorry. You shouldn't be. I'm - I do not regret what I did.” He spoke with conviction. It was his first time speaking the words but he'd known them to be true for a long time now. He figured it out somewhere between the lengthy showers he took to scrub the death from his skin and the long stretching afternoons he feigned drowsiness so he could be alone with his tears and guilt. “I'm not proud of it. Not by any means. But I'd do it again to keep you alive. There is nothing I wouldn't do to guarantee your safety.”

 “But you didn't - they wanted me the whole time, you just said that.” She reached out a tentative hand, and Ben being the weak creature he was, took it. He ran his thumb over the callouses there, earned from the years of sword fighting and training. Her eyes were damp and unbearably earnest. “You didn't need to do it.” 

  Tears were rolling down his cheeks at a steady pace, wetting his shirt. “We don't know that. They did want you, but they also wanted me to go further down this path, to lean into my wickedness. And you know they have a propensity for getting what they want, no matter the cost. Who knows what they would have done if I resisted the path they were paving for me? Who knows how far they would've gone to get me to fall in line? There are worse things than death, Li Lonnie, there are more ways to lose a life.” He thinks of Audrey’s parents trapped in a perpetual sleeping curse, locked up in a dark room as living corpses and shudders. “They could've hurt you - they could've - no. I wasn't willing to take that risk. I'd kill a hundred times over before I let that happen.” 

 Lonnie is staring at him so intensely that it actually burns. He can’t get a read on her, even now and it drives him so crazy he might actually laugh if he wasn’t so paralyzed with fear. The weight that was lifted off his chest from his sordid confession falls back down on him tenfold under her scrutiny. This was it. This was the moment she finally reached the reasonable conclusion to hate him. She’s searching every inch of his face for something - maybe the darkness smeared across what used to be light. Her mouth keeps opening as if the words were right on the tip of her tongue and then closing abruptly like they were stuck just there. He waits, reminds himself that he will very well deserve the verbal lashing he’s about to receive. Lonnie always was a bit mean, Carlos loved it about her. The silences stretches on so long he almost thinks she’ll never find it in herself to speak to her again, and then, finally;

“You care about me that much?” 

“Yes” The insistent, desperate word is punched from his throat before he can even consider trying to preserve his dignity. By some miracle her hand is still in his. She’s still staring at him with that terrible unreadable expression.

“Why?” She presses urgently. Like it’s some great mystery. Like it isn’t the most obvious answer in the world.

 He meets her own misty eyes with his rapidly blurring ones. “You're worth caring about Li Lonnie. Then, and now, and for decades and decades to come.” 

 She crashes into him with so much force that his back slams into the headboard, so fast he can barely process what happened as he holds tight onto his new armful of tearful Li Lonnie. He doesn't even have the time to be tentative, to sit and marvel at how this strong stubborn woman that just got all the more reasons to hate him was seeking him out for comfort. He presses her head into his neck, desperate for skin to make contact with hers, and she sobs. She's crying so hard that her body shakes with it, that her shoulders heave and her breath escapes her and she's clawing at the skin around Ben's ribcage so hard it hurts, and he doesn't care even a little bit.

 “Hey, it's okay.” He smothers his panic down into a little box and gives an award winning impression of calm. His own wet voice doesn't waver or falter. “I apologize. I shouldn't have sprung all that on you. Do you want me to get Jane? You might be more comfortable with her.” 

 Because the fact of the matter is Lonnie never touches him. She's media trained, and she's far from idiotic, so she'll hold his hand, or lean on his shoulder in front of a camera. Play the part of the lovesick woman, pulled from the frontline and blissfully domesticated. But in private, she staunchly refused any sort of physical comfort he tried to offer. Sure she'd entertained a tentative and fragile rekindling of their friendship, but that was for convenience at best. She let Jane hug her sometimes when it gets bad enough, and she and Doug share comfortable and understanding silences sometimes, but she was largely untouchable and he wanted to respect that.

 He gathered all of that respect and gentlemanly care and tried oh so gently to peel her shaking form away from him, craning his head back to peek at the bathroom. She was crying quite loudly, surely two magical beings weren't so preoccupied with each other's bodies that their ears stopped working. 

 Lonnie would not be moved, it was like trying to push a wall of stone. If anything she pushed in closer, nails digging into his skin in retaliation and he stops his efforts before he can collect anymore bruises. “You're an idiot.” She spits in a way that would be withering if it weren't so impassioned.

 “I can't say I disagree.” He concedes, sighing. Lonnie's body is warm and solid against him, and the lingering product in her damp hair smells nothing short of divine. He rests a tentative hand in the wet expanse of silky hair and scratches gently at her scalp. Doug loves when he does that. Lonnie at the very least seems to slump at the gesture, and her claws disengage once she's sure he won't attempt to dislodge her again.

 “You killed a man.” Lonnie says into his skin. There's no accusation in her tone, no questions. She speaks simply, no cutting corners, no flowery words, no bullshit. Heavy with emotion. 

 “I did.” He agrees. He wants to apologize - Fritz died a painful, public, gruesome death and was awarded no burial or ceremony - but he doesn't. It's disingenuous, to apologize for something you'd do over again if the chance were permitted. 

 “For me.” She whispers, so quiet he wouldn't hear her if she weren't mere inches from his face. “You killed a man for me. While I was parading the countryside proclaiming you a traitor, and tarnishing your name.” 

 “I am a traitor.” He says. “If it makes you feel better.” 

 “Maybe.” A silence stretches for a while, filled with ragged breathing, and the sound of the shower, and the steady scratch of his nails against the crown of her head. “I think maybe your loyalty and your duty just didn't align. You had a duty to uphold the crown. To lineage and tradition. But your loyalty is to the people you care about. To them and… you care about me. You stupid fucking man, if I had succeeded in what I was trying to do, I would have killed you.” 

 He smiles a bit at the accusation in her voice. It's nice to hear her sound like herself. “I know.” He says because he does. He never doubted it for a second. “That's alright.” 

 To his utter delight, she coughs out a laugh at that. “You really are an idiot, Ben, for Light's sake.” 

 He laughs a bit too. “I get that a lot.” 

 Lonnie finally raises her head, pulling away from the warm cradle of his skin to instead fix that burning stare into his eyes. He makes a conscious effort not to balk at her beauty. “How do you stand it?” 

 “Being an idiot?” He offers, raising an eyebrow. “Years of practice.” 

 She doesn't even roll her eyes at his lame joke, a testament to how serious she was.“Being kept. Pretty bird in a cage, wings forever clipped.” 

 Ben bites the inside of his cheek, mulling the words over in his mind. “I think I've always wanted to be kept.” He said carefully. “I mean I've always been a commodity because of my station, who my parents are, what my legacy was. I always knew I'd be somebody's prize, I just never imagined it would be because I'm me. I'm legally useless now. Politically useful sure, but they've already proven they can collect monarchs like stones, so they're only keeping me because they want me. And that's… that's special I guess. That's all I've ever wanted.” 

 “But,” she says. Her eyes are searching desperately, trying to understand. “You're trapped.” 

 “I've always been trapped.” Ben smiles sadly. “I was born trapped. I picked this cage. I like it.”

 She gives up her search, looking forlorn. “I don't understand.”

 “Maybe you'll never have to.” He offers.

 “I will.” She says simply. Her body once more becomes dead weight in his arms, her head falling to his chest with a wet plop. His shirt is more wet than dry at this point. “I'll have to eventually. I'm trapped.”

 “Were you ever free?” Silence. Why the hell did he say that? What the hell was wrong with him and his stupid painfully honest streak? Why couldn’t he just lie to his loved ones like a reasonable person? Him and his honor.

 What was honor even for? The satisfaction of it all? For righteous goodness? There was nothing good or righteous about the hitch in Lonnie’s breath as she took in what he said, like a string pulled too taunt finally being cut. He found no satisfaction at the grim realization that his shirt was being used as a tissue once again, her tears falling silently into the fabric as her crying resumed. He’d made her cry yet again, and he didn’t feel the slightest bit honorable about it. He felt like ripping his own guts out through his mouth.

 Evil’s sake, when did that sort of imagery become a casual occurrence to him instead of some horrific nightmare to clutch his proverbial pearls about? Having evil overlords for lovers really did change a person. Ben shifted his legs, boosting Lonnie’s body up a few inches so he could better fit his arms around her. She wasn’t even the slightest bit heavy, and for a single absolutely useless moment he felt angry at the Court for putting her in a cell. A horribly shaky inhale where he focused on the silk of Lonnie’s shirt beneath the pads of his fingers, a moderately more steady exhale and the feeling was gone. 

 As much as he loved the Court, he knew it was useless to be angry with them. It rarely went anywhere productive in the grand scheme of things. Jay would coo and call his anger things like ‘adorable’ and ‘precious’, needle him from frustrated to flustered, kiss him until he forgot what he was so upset about, and then when he remembered he’d start the process over again. Evie would fly into pamper mode, drawing his bath, massaging his muscles, showering him with attention and care, making him feel so loved and treasured that the anger just melted away. Mal would offer him the pleasant mindless haze he could never find the strength to turn down. Carlos would toss him a weapon and tell him to fight it out, then tend to and press tender kisses to his wounds when he inevitably lost. There was no real point in his anger if he could be so easily swayed away from it, no point in letting it fester and turn him sour and bitter. Because the Court would take it upon themselves to rebuild his trust in them by any means necessary.

 But it wasn't them that made Auradon feel like a cage. That was a realization that came to him long before he even signed his name on that executive order that ended up bringing a violent coup right into the heart of the country, and four troubled minds right into his own. He had never felt free. Free kids didn’t get media training while their peers were still stumbling through picture books. Free kids didn’t have to get all their friends vetted and approved. They weren’t betrothed at the age of ten, their hobbies weren’t picked from a list of marketable options, and they weren’t told not to cry in public because it was a bad look for the nation. He was more free as Mal’s lover than he ever was as prince of Auradon, gilded cage be damned.

 Heaving a sigh, he studied the wet spot on the back of Lonnie’s sleep shirt, trailing his fingers across her back in gentle circles. “I’m sorry.”

 “No you're right. It's just…” Lonnie lifted her head, looking up at him with the open vulnerability she always tried so hard to kill and bury. Her eyes were wide, shining with tears that hung off her lashes in tiny droplets, and in that moment all he could think of was how he had no idea how his villainous lovers enjoyed watching their loved ones cry. Lonnie was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever come to know, and watching her this fragile, watching her break was like a knife to his chest. “I don’t want to love them.”

 He pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowed because yeah that was a completely sane and rational line of thought, and it really was a shame he didn’t grow up in a well adjusted household, because he never had such qualms. He offered her a hand which she slid her own shaking hand into. He traced his thumb over the back of her hand in silent comfort, waiting patiently for her to continue.

 “If I love them none of this matters. They just - win. And right now I don’t love them - I fucking hate them. But, Ben,” She whispers, like she’s in confessional. Like she’s just barely getting the words out. “I hate them less and less every day. Each day that goes by it gets harder to hold on to all that hate I mean - from the moment I saw you on television standing up there next to them, worse than complacently, willingly, I decided to hate you. And look where I am now.”

 He takes a sharp intake of breath, the weight of her words hitting him squarely in the chest. “You hated me.”

 She nods even as she speaks. “I don’t hate you anymore.”

 The tears fall before he can even register he’s crying. “You don’t hate me anymore.” He sniffles, chuckling quietly at the uselessness of it. “Thank you.” 

 “Oh Ben,” she covers his hand with her other one, once again stooping so low as to comfort him. “I haven't hated you for quite a while. You care too much” 

 “I care so much.” He nods. Selfishly holds on to the comforting warmth of his hand enveloped in both of hers.

 “Ben.” She mutters. “Do you think I'll ever…” 

 Love them, she can't say. Will I give them exactly what I want? 

 Yes, he can't tell her. He knows it immediately, knows from experience. He's seen them break and rebuild a human psyche, has been terrified and morbidly fascinated with the result time and time again. Lonnie will fall in love with them before the year's end, was already in the process of loving them.

 “I couldn't tell you, Lonnie.” He lies, brushing her damp hair from her forehead. “I'm just the idiot.” 

 The bathroom door swings open in a grand arc. “Is that vulnerability? How obscene.” 

 That startles a laugh out of both of them. “My apologies, love.” He tells Jane, rolling his eyes at her mischievous grin. “We'll be sure to cover up next time.” 

 “No, don't.” Doug chimes in, his reassuring tone at odds with the wicked gleam in his eyes. “Working through trauma with open lines of dialogue and healthy communication turns me on.” 

 Jane let out a loud, exaggerated, girlish moan, which Doug immediately parroted at a higher pitch. It quickly devolved into a truly ridiculously obscene echo chamber of them trying to out-do each other, which was only put to an end with a well aimed pillow sailing across the room by Lonnie's expert arm.

 Months of training combat under Carlos’ iron fist had them both ducking swiftly out of the way, their vulgar noises overtaken by giggles. Ben watched on, staring at the flush in Jane's cheeks, and the way Doug's hair framed his face as he laughed. Then he glanced down, where Lonnie’s hand was still miraculously in his own, even as she cussed out his mischievous paramours. 

 He rested his back against the headboard, smiling to himself in hazy contentment. Lonnie was making progress. She was getting better, more like herself. And somehow, Ben was helping.