Chapter Text
The weather outside was frightful.
Which of course meant that Eddie had gotten sick, seeing as he was almost always working. No matter the weather or whether he was inside or out.
But Eddie was thirteen and he was, much more importantly, stubborn.
Which meant that he was going to give his parents the best Christmas he could manage. Which hopefully would be the best Christmas either of them had ever had but probably not, since this was the isle.
“Eddie, take a break, why don’t you?” Edgar called from his bed. “You look like you’re about to topple over.”
“I'm fine, dad, honest!” The brunette called out, before breaking into a fit of back bending coughs. Causing him to nearly drop the tray of hot (closer to room temperature, really) chocolate and biscuits he was holding.
“Son.” Edgar’s voice took on a pleading tone.
“Okay, okay. Anything for you, dad.” The thirteen year old agreed, sitting down in the chair near his father's bed—the former butler could have heard him rasping from across from how loud and frequent it was.
Edgar took in his son’s sullen expression. “I know you want to throw your mum and I a nice Christmas, but with you being sick and working so hard, Eddie, you must know your limits.”
“I just want you and mom to be happy. Neither of you ever get to leave the house anymore.” The brunette looked at the thin, dull (almost rotten) wooden walls with a scowl as if it had personally offended him.
“We’re happy here with you, son. Christmas or no Christmas.”
“I wish we weren't stuck here.” Eddie didn't like letting on when he was anything but happy around his parents but this time he couldn't help but frown, resting his chin atop his folded arms as he leaned on the bed. Glassy eyes drifting to look at Auradon, which was lit up in Christmas lights as always this time of ear. His nose was bright red from the cold he'd caught. “You and mom and Aunt Elvira and Uncle Amos don't belong here.”
One of Eddie's many cats, Edgar couldn't be sure which—Fleabag maybe?—hopped onto the bed and nudged Eddie with its forehead. Meowing. Clearly not liking the fact that its savior was sad.
Edgar sighed, guilt marring his features. “I’m sorry, son. This is my fault.”
“No it's not. It's Auradon’s fault.”
Eddie never let his parents take responsibility for what they did. Refusing to believe that they should be on the isle with actual murderers and monsters, even if he didn't like that they had been mean to animals.
Their Eddie had such a big heart—always saving whatever little animal he saw in danger. He'd even taken in two dogs and seven little kittens recently—something that brought a smile to Sarah's face for the first time since they'd lost Si and Am.
And he was stuck on the isle because of Edgar.
Running after criminals and seeing things no child should ever see, because of Edgar.
“If I wasn’t so greedy, if I hadn’t tried to kill those cats, none of us would be here.”
And Eddie wouldn't be forced to work to keep the three of them alive from the age of nine.
“It isn't your fault, dad. You shouldn't be here with people like Cruella de Vil and Maleficent—” Eddie broke into another coughing and sneezing fit, choking.
Edgar winced. “Save your energy, Eddie. No point in arguing about this now. It is Christmas, after all.”
The teen rubbed his scarred red and runny nose with his sleeve, glaring down at the covers. “One day, we're gonna get to celebrate a real Christmas. With good food and lights, and presents and everything, and there's nothing stupid Auradon or anyone else can do to stop me from making it happen.’
The old man didn't have the heart to tell him that was likely never going to happen.