Chapter Text
It took hours for Evie to fall asleep that night. She would normally never stay up past the time it took her to get ready for bed. But their departure from the Isle, the carriage trip—a real carriage, like the ones her mother had told her she'd once possessed—the sight of gleaming Auradon in the flesh, just the mere fact that she was away from her mother, made sleep almost impossible. It felt strange, being in a bed large enough to fit three people comfortably, in a room that smelled of fresh flowers and aromatic woods rather than dust. The sound of the sea was a distant hum that was almost too quiet, rather than the familiar roar that lulled her to sleep each night.
Evie had taken advantage of her new surroundings immediately. As Mal slept fitfully in the other bed, she had carefully unpacked all their clothing into the enormous wardrobes, gasping when she realized they were full of clothing. Evie tried it all on, tossing aside her clothing and draping herself in rich the soft-toned fabrics. Silk, chiffon, cotton, lace, everything she'd only ever dreamed about touching. The measurements were almost right; a little too wide around the waist, too short at the leg, too broad about the shoulders, but Evie was confident she could fix those easily, especially now that she could use magic.
Magic. Evie could use magic. Or, rather, it was that she finally had access to the magic that had long brewed beneath the surface, ready to be let out. She had been able to feel the tingle of it since she'd crossed the border, and now she could feel the power humming in her blood. She could feel her mind clear, as if the magic had given her a boost of confidence, or the ability to think more clearly. It did little to help with the restlessness, however, and she was left feeling a little jittery, her stomach unsettled.
When she wasn't trying on clothes, Evie paced back and forth across the room, her footsteps echoing in the emptiness. The windows were open, allowing a gentle breeze to float into the room, the scent of roses wafting through the air. Her nightgown, a deep sapphire blue with white lace at the collar, billowed around her, the hem brushing her ankles. It had called to her from among the many hanging in the wardrobe. It was by far her favorite piece; though the purple satin dress, and the gown that seemed like it eas constructed entirely out of gossamer butterfly wings, were close seconds. The nightgown was light and comfortable, unlike the ones she had owned on the island, which were thicker, meant to shield back against the cold that often permeated the houses.
Evie kept running her hands over the smooth fabric. It was hard to believe she was there, that this was all hers, if only for a night. She'd never expected to be given the chance to leave the Isle. She'd always thought she would end up living out the rest of her life on that miserable island, surrounded by ocean and a barrier and no chance of escape. She had known nothing about Auradon except what her mother had told her, which was nothing good. It had seemed so far away, an impossible dream. Now she was standing here, a child of an Isle prisoner, wearing the clothes of a princess, and sleeping in a castle.
Evie glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight, and she'd been up for over a day. Her body ached from sitting for hours in the carriage. She wanted to fall asleep, but she was too excited. The energy coursing through her was almost painful, like the feeling of being too hot after having had a fever. She needed to get out of this room, do something other than stand around and try not to wake Mal.
The only thing marring the experience was the absence of Jamil and Gabriel. Where had Dawn said their rooms were? On the first floor, at the end of the hall. The last two rooms to the left.
Evie paused. It wasn't too late, was it? Perhaps they would still be awake. Jamil, at least, was always a light sleeper. Even Gabriel could usually be persuaded to stay up a bit longer, if they banded together to pressure him. She could go check, make sure everything was alright, maybe talk for a little bit. It was worth a try, anyway. If they were already asleep, then she would just go back upstairs and try to fall asleep herself; and if they were awake, then all the better.
As she slipped on the nightgown's matching robe and tied it at the waist, Maleficent's task suddenly came to mind, souring her excitement. They weren't there for fun. Evie and her friends were expected to carry out an impossible task, and risk their newfound freedom in the process.
Don't be stupid, the voice of her mother, which always seemed to echo in her head in times like this, sternly reprimanded. If you succeed, you'll have more than just a simple wardrobe of borrowed clothing. When the barrier is destroyed, this castle will belong to you entirely. You could fill this bedroom with all the things you've ever wanted.
Grimhilde had never shied from speaking about Before, that mythical time in her life where she had possessed everything. A kingdom, a palace, the most beautiful clothes and jewels imaginable; servants, and subjects who feared her and worshipped the ground she walked on. Where others were less willing to speak of their lost lives, Grimhilde candidly talked of all she'd once had, and what she planned to seize again.
She'd spoken of Before so much that Evie couldn't help but feel the pull of that world, the one that had been denied to her and her friends, the one their parents had lost because they'd been too stupid, too weak, or just not smart enough. She thought of how nice it would be to live like the princess she was by blood, in a palace filled with servants, not having to work, just doing whatever she wanted. But the pull of Auradon's luxuries was nothing compared to the idea of freedom.
Evie made sure the hallway was empty before skipping out and making her way to the staircase. Her heart pounded at the thought of leaving the island for good, never returning. No more Isle, no more gray skies and desolate landscape and miserable people. No more being locked away from her own magic. No more Grimhilde.
She was practically giggling when she reached the first floor, jumping the last three steps onto the landing, her bare feet hitting the floor. Her nightgown trailed and billowed behind her as she walked down the hallway, her robe swaying with every step. The halls were silent, except for the occasional gust of wind coming in from the outside. A few dim lamps were still lit, illuminating the statues lining the walls. They cast dark shadows across the walls, giving them a sinister appearance. Evie moved slowly, carefully, as if any noise might wake the marble sentinels.
A large window opened up into a garden, a patch of grass and trees interspersed with flowers and stone paths. Evie stopped, staring. She'd never seen such a garden. In the Isle, few flowers grew. They kept crops and some herbs, and the native trees of the island were the only ones that thrived, though they were not particularly beautiful. She'd seen the Auradon countryside briefly during the carriage ride, and there had been fields and orchards for miles, full of colorful flowers and fruit. But even in Auradon, there were no gardens like this. The flowers, which she didn't know the names of, were in full bloom, their bright colors vivid and strong. The hedges were shaped like animals and buildings, the plants arranged into elaborate designs. A fountain stood in the center, water shooting up from the top, catching the moonlight and shimmering. There were a few statues scattered throughout, and the grass was trimmed perfectly. The entire garden was surrounded by a wrought iron fence, with a gate leading to a winding path.
When Evie turned to continue walking, she was met by a painting she hadn't noticed before, drawn as she was to the sight of the garden. It showed a young woman, dressed in a gown of blue and yellow fabric, with hints of red woven into the skirt. She sat primly, one hand neatly on her lap while another petted a doe posing beside her, and woodland animals sat at her feet; her head was in a slight tilt, as if she'd been in the middle of looking at her animal companions when the artist had decided to capture the moment. The woman's skin was porcelain, her features delicate and beautiful. A perfect, rosy blush highlighted her cheeks. Her lips, curved into a grin, were as red as ripe apples—whether by nature or cosmetics, or the painter's hand, Evie could not tell—and her ebony hair was pinned back so that a few strands framed her soft, delicate face, while little birds flew down with flowers in their beaks, placing them among the waves.
But it was her eyes that were the most striking: a deep brown, almost black, the color of the fertile soil Evie had only seen in Auradon's fields, or the rich wood of the trees. They stared at Evie with a fondness and warmth that seemed impossible for a painting to convey. It was as if the woman and Evie were close friends, and the fact that she was now there to see her brought joy.
There was a small brass plaque beneath the painting, and Evie knelt to read the name etched in cursive letters. "Queen Snow White."
It couldn't be, could it? Was this the Snow White of her mother's stories, the one who'd stolen her mother's throne, her crown, and her title, the princess who'd married her prince and lived happily ever after, while her mother was exiled and left to die? This was the woman her mother had been so desperate to kill, the girl whose life she had nearly destroyed?
She's the reason why we were in the Isle in the first place, Evie remembered her mother saying. It was supposed to be her heart I cut out. Had the hunter not betrayed me, I would have succeeded, and you would never have known what it was like to live imprisoned as we are now. You would have been born a queen. This is all her fault. She ruined everything. When Maleficent frees us, I will find a way to destroy her. She will suffer the consequences of her actions. That I swear to you, Hilda.
Looking at the portrait, Snow White didn't seem like a threat to anyone. Not like a girl who had spent years as a servant, or who had lived with dwarves in the woods. She was a real princess—a queen, now. One who was beloved by her people, whose name was known across the land, whose face had been preserved in oil paint for future generations.
Evie reached up, standing on the tips of her toes to reach the portrait. Her fingers brushed against its surface. She expected to find the warmth of Snow White's flesh, but all she felt was cold, unflinching glass.
Light shone from underneath the door of Gabriel and Jamil's room. Evie gave four quick raps, their agreed upon way of letting each other know that it was them on the other side. The door cracked open only wide enough for her to slip in, and she was dragged inside as soon as she stepped forward. The boys' room was not that different from their own, having the same wooden furniture and canopied beds, though pale red replaced the pink scattered throughout.
"You should be careful," Gabriel said, closing the door and leaning against it. "If a servant had seen you wandering around the castle at night, they'd think you were trying to steal something."
Evie shrugged, sitting on Jamil's bed. "I thought you might not be able to sleep either, so I came to visit."
Gabriel was dressed in a silk, button-down shirt and drawstring pants, both the color of lavender. His hair was damp, as if he'd just bathed, and curled in an unruly mass that made Evie want to grab a comb and run it through the locks.
"Well, we're glad you're here," Jamil said, sitting beside her. His hair was also wet, and tied back in a loose ponytail. Unlike them, he was wearing the usual sleep clothes he had on the Isle of the Lost: a golden shirt with long sleeves, and black pants. "I'm surprised Mal didn't follow you."
"She's asleep."
Jamil snorted. "She didn't waste time getting comfortable."
"More like she was too exhausted to complain. As soon as Dawn took us to our room, Mal went to sleep." Evie shook her head, remembering the sight of Mal curled up on the bed, snoring quietly. She'd thought of waking her up so all four could talk, but it broke her heart to try and rouse her when she looked so peaceful, without a hint of worry. Evie had tucked her in before leaving, smoothing out the wrinkles in the sheets and draping a blanket over her.
"It's probably the first time she's slept without having to worry about something," Jamil said. He leaned against the headboard, resting his feet on the mattress. Next to his bed was a mountain of pillows, all of different shapes and sizes. "Why would someone even need that many pillows?"
"For comfort, I guess," Evie replied, picking up one of the smaller ones. The cover was made of satin, and embroidered with golden thread. It was a little hard to make out, as the room was lit only by two lamps on either side of the bed, but Evie could still see the delicate detail. "See those firm ones that look longer than the others? You put them between your legs and under your arms, to keep your neck and spine straight."
Gabriel snorted and gave an exaggerated bow, pinching an invisible skirt as he did so. "I forgot Evie was our resident expert on all things royalty. Please, m'lady, enlighten us on the ways of the aristocracy."
Evie swung the pillow at his head. "Well, firstly, it's 'my lady'," she corrected, "though in this case, you will address me as nothing less than 'Your Highness, Crown Princess Evie'."
Jamil and Gabriel burst into a fit of laughter so loud, she worried someone would come to check on them. Evie had to slap a hand over their mouths to quiet them, but even then, the sound escaped. "Would you two be quiet?" she hissed. "You'll wake everyone in the castle!"
"Sorry," Jamil whispered, still trying not to laugh. He grabbed another pillow and placed it behind him. "It's just... it's funny to hear you talk like that. It doesn't sound like you at all."
"It doesn't," Gabriel agreed, though his laughter was finally subsiding. "We know you're a princess, but it's hard to imagine you like this." He gestured at the room.
"I could say the same thing about the two of you. If someone had told me a week ago that you would be sleeping in a castle, I wouldn't have believed them."
"We still don't."
"Neither do I," Evie sighed. "I keep thinking this is all some strange dream. Tomorrow, I'll wake up in my room, and the Isle will still be there, and everything will be as it always has been."
"I've thought that too," Jamil said. He glanced up, his brown eyes meeting Evie's. "What are we doing, Evie?"
"What do you mean?"
"All of this. What we're doing here. What's going to happen." He paused, looking down. "Do you really think we can do this? Male— Mal's mother, has a lot of faith is the four of us." Jamil was careful not to speak Maleficent's name, or say anything about her plans, especially when they were somewhere where someone could overhear. Even though the door was closed, and it was unlikely they would be interrupted, there was no such thing as being too careful.
"Do you think it's even possible?" Gabriel continued.
Evie bit her lip, her eyes flicking between the two of them. It was strange to see her two best friends, who were usually so confident and self-assured, looking at her with uncertainty. The same uncertainty that brewed within her like a storm. "I... don't know," she admitted. "But we have to try, right? It's not like we have a choice. Either we succeed, or we fail. Simple as that. We have to get out while we can, while we have a chance. If not, we'll be stuck on the Isle forever."
Gabriel cocked his head to the side. "You didn't seem to believe they're planning something nefarious."
"That was before we actually spoke to those two. Prince Stephen and Princess Dawn," Evie clarified, knowing what they were thinking. "They're obviously hiding something. I could see it on their faces. They were too nervous. And why would they want to help us, unless they had a hidden motive? Why them, and why now?"
Evie repeated that to herself. If she made sure to retain at least some suspicion about their new benefactors, she wouldn't allow herself to grow too attached to Auradon. Even if this wasn't a trick, and Stephen really had the best intentions, there was no guarantee that his plan would be succesful. Their lives, and the lives of everyone else on the Isle, had been in Auradon's hands since the very beginning. Evie was sure that all this benevolence could disappear in a second, should they be deemed no longer worthy.
Jamil moved closer to Evie. His hair was starting to dry, the thick locks curling and forming tiny ringlets. She was reminded of how he used to look as a child. He'd been a scrawny little boy, with large, wide eyes and a mouth perpetually set into a pout. He'd grown into Jafar's sharpness throughout the years, a handsome sort of leanness to him, but with a strength that was obvious, and a smile that was rare and radiant.
"So... have you guys tried it yet?" he asked.
Evie raised an eyebrow. "Tried what?"
"Your magic."
Evie fisted the skirt of her nightgown. The mention of magic brought her attention back to the tingling sensation beneath her palms. An electric pickling, like when lightning storms rolled in from the ocean, and she could feel the static on her skin. "No," she answered, glancing at Gabriel, who was still standing by the door. "Have you?"
He shrugged. "It's hard to, when you have no idea how. Maybe Mal can teach us now that we're here."
"Well, I have." Jamil's grin grew smug and triumphant, and Evie was suddenly reminded of a cat, after it caught a mouse.
She and Gabriel turn their heads so fast, they might have given themselves whiplash.
"You have?" Evie's eyes widened.
Jamil nodded. "It was nothing much, really. I've been feeling restless since we crossed the border. Like— like there's something itching under my skin, and I need to let it out."
Evie frowned. "Is that normal? Or is it just us?"
"Just us, I think. Maybe Mal felt the same, and she can explain better." Jamil shook his head, his smile returning. "Anyway, it happened when I was alone. I was just sitting in the tub, trying to get the energy out, and I remembered the bonfires we made on the beach sometimes."
"You didn't!" Gabriel's voice came out as a whisper, the words strangled.
"I did." Jamil stood and held his hand out. He stared intently at the space between his fingers, his face contorted into an expression of deep concentration. Slowly, the air started to glow a faint yellow, and then a little flame appeared, hovering above Jamil's palm.
It was a small flame, less than nothing. Certainly useless for even attempting to light a candle, let alone start a fire. But it was real. It wasn't a trick or a mirage. It was fire, conjured from Jamil's own will.
Evie jumped onto her knees, moving forward to examine the flame. Her hands reached for the flickering light, but she stopped herself just before touching it. "Wow," she breathed.
Gabriel moved toward them, kneeling in front of Jamil. He stretched out a finger, slowly poking the flame. "Ow!" he yelped, shaking his hand and blowing on the tip of his finger. "It's real."
"Of course it is."
Jamil had clearly hoped to go for an indignant, yet smug tone; but his voice had wavered, and the words had come out as a question. He was still just as shocked by the flame, and his success, as the rest of them.
"It's real," he repeated, more firmly. He turned to Evie, his brown eyes glowing amber from the light. "Your turn."
Evie swallowed, staring at her own open hand. Her heart raced, beating like the wings of a hummingbird. She could feel the power stirring beneath her skin, just waiting to burst free. What was she supposed to do? She wished her mother had given her some sort of lessons, even if just theoretical, but Grimhilde had only ever told her the stories of Before, and how the world had been hers. She had never explained what she'd done to achieve that.
Closing her eyes, Evie thought of the fire, pictured it growing and burning bright. The power was still there, thrumming like a living thing, and Evie imagined it traveling to her hand. She pictured the fire, the heat, the orange flames and the smoke and the smell.
Her arm was starting to cramp, and her palm ached. She had been holding her breath without realizing, and exhaled slowly, trying to relax. Evie felt the power moving up, from her belly, along her spine, until it was in her hands.
A spark.
And then—
"Evie!"
She opened her eyes to see the corner of her robe smoldering. Gabriel and Jamil both dove for her, frantically patting her clothes until the fire was gone.
"I guess we can't expect miracles the first time around," Gabriel said, giving Evie a small smile. "At least we know it's there."
Evie's throat was dry, and she had trouble finding her voice. "It was there. I could feel it."
"It'll come with practice."
"If we have time." Evie's fingers dug into the bed. She couldn't help the disappointment and frustration, and the fear that her failure would prevent them from fulfilling Maleficent's task. Jamil was already showing better control of magic than she did, and Mal had years of lessons and practice under her belt. Evie and Gabriel were the only ones who had never received any training, but she knew Gabriel was crafty and a quick learner.
That only left her.
"We'll make time," Jamil said, putting a comforting hand on Evie's shoulder. "But let's not worry about it tonight. We'll talk to Mal tomorrow. In the meantime, we should get some sleep."
"What do you think will happen when we wake up?" Evie wondered.
"In all honesty? No idea." Gabriel got up, and was standing by his bed, stretching his arms above his head until his spine gave a loud pop. Evie glared at him. He knew she hated that, and still did it to spite her. Then she remembered his mother hated it too, and that was enough to make her smile.
"Whatever happens," Jamil said, "we'll be prepared."
Evie stood and smoothed out her nightgown. She cringed at the singed hemline of her robe. If anyone saw it, they would probably think she'd had a run-in with an angry candle.
"Thanks for visiting us," Jamil added, walking her to the door.
Evie playfully elbowed him. "Good night, boys. Sweet dreams."
"Night," Gabriel replied from under the blanket.
Jamil was silent for a moment. When Evie pulled away, he looked thoughtful, his gaze distant.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he shook his head. "It's just... this is the first time I've slept in a bed this soft. I can't get used to it. I know this isn't permanent. Whatever deal the prince and princess are making with our parents, there's a price. There's always a price."
Evie nodded. "And the moment they have what they want, it'll be back to the way it was."
"It'll never be the way it was," Jamil said. "Not after this. I can't go back. I don't want to. I'll do whatever I have to, if it means never seeing that place again."
"You and me both."
Evie slipped out the door. As soon as it closed, a heavy weight settled on her shoulders, and she nearly collapsed against the wall.
Jamil was right. There would be a price for all of this, a heavy one; and whatever it was, it would change their lives. For better, or worse.
Her hopes for a speedy return to her new room were dashed by the sight of Dawn. Evie turned the corner that led back to her rooms and saw the princess standing there, pacing the hall back and forth, a hand clenching the skirt of her nightgown and rumpling the organza appliqué roses. Evie wondered how she could sleep on such a thing; it was gorgeous, but seemed almost a pain to wear to bed. She imagined Dawn would have to sleep perfectly straight, laying on her back with her hands folded over her stomach, her skirt fanned out just right. Laid out like a precious doll.
"Your Highness?" Evie asked, stopping in her tracks.
Dawn jumped, her head whipping around, eyes wide with surprise.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Evie quickly said.
"No, it's fine." Dawn straightened up and brushed off invisible lint from her pink gown, as if she had just been caught by her mother in the midst of mischief. "I didn't realize anyone else would be awake."
Both stood, staring at each other. Evie was sure that the princess had a reason for being here, but if she did, Dawn wasn't volunteering the information. She seemed nervous, her fingers tugging at every inch of her gown she could reach, her brown eyes flickering about.
"Well," Evie broke the awkward silence, "I should probably get going—"
"Did you have a nice walk?" Dawn cut in, her voice louder than necessary.
Evie stared, puzzled. It took her a second to remember that, technically, she wasn't supposed to leave the room. Dawn might have said they were free to move around, but what she'd really meant that was that they were free to return to the Isle, preferably as soon as possible. "Oh, uh, yeah. Very refreshing. Lots of portraits and... vases."
Dawn nodded, smiling as though Evie were a particularly stupid child. "Good to hear."
"Mhm. Good night, then."
Evie gave a quick curtsy and hurried off, resisting the urge to look back.
It was relief when she entered the room. Evie locked the door behind her and sank onto the floor, resting her head against the wooden panel.
Why had Dawn been prowling outsider their room? There were no lack of answers to the question that now plagued Evie, but each and everyone was less appealing than the last. Dawn had made it clear that, unlike Stephen, she barely tolerated their presence and would be happier if they went back home. Evie wouldn’t put it past her to try and do something to sabotage them. Still, what could one princess do to all four of them?
Any remaining plans of returning unnoticed were further dashed when Mal stirred in her bed. Her head peeked out, horns first, then her long hair, braided back tightly as usual. Her green eyes glowed in the dark. "You're back."
"I needed some air," she lied without thinking. And then, because she never lied to her friends, not since the day they'd all promised to be honest with each other, Evie added, "I was in the boys' room. We talked. Nothing much. They've tried their magic, though."
Mal's mouth twitched, and Evie wasn't sure if she was frowning, or trying not to smile. "They have?"
"Jamil managed a small flame. But it's a start."
Mal hummed thoughtfully. She braced herself up on one elbow. "How do you feel?"
"Tired." Evie's hand reached up to her chest, fingers splayed over the space where her heart beat. Her skin prickled, a faint echo of the sensation she'd felt earlier.
"Not what I meant."
"I'm not sure how I feel," she said honestly.
Evie pushed herself up and shuffled to her bed. Mal's brow furrowed, but she silently moved back to make room for her. Evie slid beneath the blanket, and they both laid side by side, staring at the ceiling.
"It's so quiet here. Back home, you could always hear something," Mal murmured. "The wind, or the waves, or the birds. Sometimes there were carriages going down the street, or people talking outside. You'd never get a break from noise. Now, there's nothing."
Evie shifted closer to Mal, until their arms touched. Mal wasn't fond of physical contact, but Evie knew she would allow it. "Maybe that's a good thing. It's a little too peaceful for my tastes, but it's... nice. It's nice."
Mal nodded. She didn't speak, but her lips were set into a hard line, her eyes narrowed, and Evie could see the cogs turning inside her mind.
Evie sighed, closing her eyes. "Let's try and get some sleep, okay? I'll wake you if something happens."
"Nothing is going to happen." Mal's words were slow and deliberate. She sounded tired, and her eyes were fluttering shut. "I won't let it."
"Of course."
Evie didn't bother trying to convince her that they couldn't predict or control everything. Mal had a habit of being stubborn and single-minded, refusing to consider any point of view that wasn't hers.
Evie didn't know if it was her imagination, but the prickling feeling on her skin had lessened. Or maybe the warmth coming from Mal was distracting her. Maybe the steady rise and fall of her chest, or the gentle, even sound of her breathing was the comfort she needed. As she closed her eyes, she couldn't help but think it sounded a lot like the waves back at the Isle of the Lost, crashing against the shore.