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cleverqueencommander · 6 hours

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Huma Soulmark AU ♥

About 2,7k words about everyone’s favourite pirates ♥

In the unholy hours of the morning, after the last has-beens fell unconscious and before the kids will need to be kicked out to school, Uma creeps into her mother's lair.

The place’s dark and half-flooded, the only decorations the empty jars her mother so treasures; she shows off some of them in the restaurant, too, above the counter. As if they were anything to look at.

Uma ignores these, anyway, carefully stepping into the water and trying not to disturb it too much.

She shudders when something touches her legs: „Sssh,“ she hums to the empty space, bending down to glaze her fingers over her mother’s pets, „It’s me, Uma. I’ll be just a minute, in and out. Just need to look at something, yeah?“

She is not sure how much Flotsam and Jetsam understand her, really, but they cling to her legs as she wades through the water. It's better that way, they canʼt go nag to Ursula like this.

If Ursula knew… Well, Uma cannot imagine she'd be all too happy. She'd throw her out, at the very least, tell her to sneak better next time. And Uma, well, she doesn't want to wait for a next time.

It's been two weeks already, two weeks from her birthday – or at least the day Ursula told her she was born, but Uma figured better safe than sorry, right? So rather, it's been almost a month, as Ursula's account of time has never been the best as far as Uma remembers, unless it's to track her shifts at the shoppe.

It's been almost a month since she's touched another person, and she feels like she's going crazy.

She turns around just to glare at the gloves and the heavy jacket she left by the door and pets the eels again. Evil, look at her now: It’s been a month and here she is, petting carnivorous eels as if they were her best friends.

A month more, and they might actually be.

And that’s not even getting into it – her crew, Harry– Uma breathes in sharply as she remembers him, and something inside of her chest hurts, just where the heart should be. (Too bad she doesn’t have one, right? Villains don’t.)

She comes to the submerged treasure chest and opens it carefully: No sound escapes, but waves ripple through the water

She rearranges the stuff inside, putting her mother’s grimoire on the top, though she doesn’t dare lift it over the water: Gods know the thing might just disintegrate at the contact with the air. She flips through the book, to the page of contents and runs her pointer finger along the numbers, and, there.

Page thirty five. Show-thee-thy-Soulmate Solution.

The name rings at least five different warning bells in her head, two of them related to the word „soulmate“ and another just screaming one name over and over. She ignores all of these, reading the words flowing in her mother’s best dramatic script.

Speaking of her mother– „Stupid girl!“ she says, looming in the entryway but moving to her way to quickly, „What are you doing?“

„Nothing,“ Uma attempts to shield the sight of the book by her body and flexes her muscles, preparing for the hit of tentacles.

It doesn’t come, though the tentacles do close around her body – hard, hard enough to bruise – and move her aside. Ursula towers over her, peers into the treasure chest, at the wide-open grimoire.

„Stupid girl,“ she says again, „That’s the version for the customers,“ she spits that out as an insult. „What were you thinking? Did I teach you nothing?!“

Uma supposes she wasn’t thinking all that much. Kind of hard, to think clearly, when the only thing on your mind is the alarm of not being allowed to touch those closest to you ever again. Not to name anyone though–

The tentacles around her pulse for a moment, and Ursula speaks again: „I suppose it’d be too much to hope you got your wits together and plan to sell that to the other little Villains out there?“ she sighs dramatically.

Uma can only nod.

Her mother finally releases her and Uma breathes in in relief.

„And you’re not gonna kill him, your soulmate is too much of an asset.“

It takes Uma a moment to register what her mother just said.

„I– What?!“ she sputters, „You know who my soulmate is? Why wouldn’t you tell me?!“

Her mother just flicks around her tentacles carelessly and Uma ducks.

„But where would be the fun in that?“

„So who is it? Is it–“

„I’m not telling you,“ Ursula cuts her off before she can finish the sentence and flips through the book, looks for something in the chest.

Of course she isn’t telling her. That’d be too easy. And where would be the fun in that?

So Uma supposes she’ll have to come back later then, get her head straight on her shoulders meanwhile. Just one last question though:

„How did you know?“

Her mother gives her a look and curls her tentacles around to carve out an imposing figure of legends. „They call me Ursula the Soulstealer, child,“ she says, „I have my ways. Now do make yourself useful and carry these jars to the restaurant, yes?“ She points at something in the chest and turns around.

Walks away.

Uma looks after her in disbelief before rushing to the chest and looking for the jars in question. But– atop of them lies the still open grimoire.

This page is written in much less fancy script and in short, informative sentences, with practical notes in the margins: Uma reads it fast, with wide eyes, and then pours over it again. She commits it to her memory.

„Well?“ her mother’s voice disturbs her thoughts, „Hurry up!“

Uma hastily grabs some jars and balances them in her hands: „Coming!“ she calls out.

Now she only has to sneak out, get all the ingredients, hope that the Barrier won’t fuck with the effects too much, and convince Harry to trust her and do this.

Easy.

And to her surprise, it is easy enough: One visit to the Arachneum and few afternoons later, she is in her cabin on Lost Revenge, putting finishing touches to the, um, potion? It looks more like an ointment.

Kind off. Sort off.

It’s hard to tell, under the water: she filled a basinet with saltwater, not wanting to detriment the effects any more by preparing it on-land completely. No one questioned this, as Harry no one has entered her cabin for over a month.

There: The last ingredient, if it can be called that: Uma sinks her face underwater and starts singing the chant she memorised. Just two lines, but they come out jumbled, and the bubbles of her breath stir within the mixture. It pulls together. She hopes it does.

Not wanting to waste any more time, she grabs the finished mixture and spreads it under her eyelids; her eyes close involuntary at the unfamiliar sensation.

It doesn’t matter, though.

It is done.

Gasping, Uma pulls above the surface again, and lets the water droplets fall all around her.

Her eyes still pulse in dull pain, but she forces herself to open them anyway and hurries to the mirror.

Now, it is too late to double-guess her judgement and Ursula’s willingness to cripple her best and least paid employee, but she checks her reflection all the same. It hadn’t changed. Much.

There is now a shimmery sheen over her eyes and if she looks carefully enough, she sees, well, <i>something</i> under her skin, and just maybe, when she looks at herself but not into the mirror, she can more guess than see the same swirling somethings trying to reach out.

That must be it, then.

A bit underwhelming, if you ask her, but it’ll do. It’ll have to.

She stops gawking at herself, dries off her face and hands and walks on-deck, only to freeze barely out of the doors.

Well, fuck.

Turns out that her own soul and the souls of her crew look nothing alike.

And that she had greatly underestimated how hard this is gonna be.

She closes her eyes to escape from the unfamiliar, if beautiful, onslaught of vibrant colours swirling around and trying to reach out to one another, stretching wide with no regard to physical barriers or her senses.

She forgot her jacket and her gloves anyway.

Yes, that is the excuse she is going with to go back to her cabin.

She grabs them from the mirror by the door and left with no excuse, she exits on board again.

„Harry!“ she calls out for her first mate. He appears in front of her as if from thin air, though that is likely because the deck is oh-so overwhelming to navigate now, what with all these people. What with all their souls longing for connection to anyone who will have them and the one or ones that will get them more than anyone. That will be their One True Love, as they’d say in Auradon. Their success or their downfall, as her mother would whisper when she thought no one was listening.

Uma closes her eyes for less than a heartbeat to brace herself and looks at Harry: The book was right. She knows what to look for when she sees it.

She knows that she is looking at her soulmate.

„Are you okay?“ he asks quietly, his hand reaching out and hovering close to her but never touching, his soul reaching towards hers.

„You don’t look too good.“

„Well, thanks, Hook,“ she manages to choke out. She tries to find his familiar blue eyes in the unfamiliar mess that has become her word now.

She manages to make out his blush, too.

„No, not like that–“ he backtracks swiftly, „I mean, are you sure you’re okay? Are you hurt? Do you need to sit down? Uma, you look like the damsels in the soap operas right before they faint–“

She does feel a bit dizzy, but not lightheaded, and she knows her body enough to know she’s not gonna faint. That would be embarrassing.

She’d faint and he’d catch her, imagine what a mark would that be.

„I’m okay,“ she reassures him and then she decides: „Come inside.“

He follows her without hesitation and shuts the door behind them, his eyes never leaving her.

He stays standing in front of the door and Uma keeps looking anywhere but at him – fine, she tries to. She always ends up looking at him anyway.

„What did you want, Captain?“ he asks finally, shattering the silence.

Uma gulps heavily at the distance that is in his words and at the fact that he isn’t right next to her.

„Harry,“ she says, just to say something.

„Yes?“

There is a thousand things she could say, but the words that actually leave her mouth?

„I think I did something stupid,“ she says quietly. She leans on the edge of her desk and Harry steps just a bit closer.

„Oh?“

She gestures for him to come closer yet and to give her his hand: he does so without protest, though she isn’t wearing any gloves or even a jacket. She gently runs her fingertips over the seams of his once-white gloves as she starts speaking:

„Yeah,“ she breathes out and shuts her eyes, „I think you’re my soulmate. I made one of my Ma’s potions, you see, and…,“ she goes on for few more sentences before she stops, realising how still and quiet he is.

She looks at him and he is just. There. Looking at her with slightly open mouth, his soul in uproar all around them – hers probably too, just much harder to see.

„You think I’m your soulmate?“ he repeats softly. He leaves his hand where it is, in hers.

She realises he probably didn’t hear a single thing beyond that.

„Yes,“ she confirms anyway.

Now he takes his hand away and Uma tries not to think about it too much. She knew there was– she knew he could reject her. Not hurt her, never, but leave her–

„Well, do you want to know for sure?“

She looks at him in surprise: His lips quirked in a smirk – smile – and he has removed his gloves while she was lost in her own head.

„Uma?“

„Yes,“ she answers. Yes, she does want to know. That’s why she did all of this, right? Maybe they can get a small mark that’s easy to conceal, keep wearing gloves–

She reaches out towards him.

He flinches his hand quickly and just as quickly speaks, so quickly she doesn’t have time to linger on his gesture.

„Uma!“ he protests, his eyes shining so brightly through the swirled mess of souls around, „I want a better mark! I want to show it off!“

„Show it off,“ she repeats blankly.

„Yes!“

She thinks his eyes turned a little bit manic; she is still a little bit surprised when he kneels in front of her.

„Show it off. I want everyone to know that I’m your soulmate, Uma.“

Oh, who is she kidding. It’s not gonna be a small, easy to conceal mark.

„If that’s what you want,“ she smiles at him.

He just hums at her in response, yes, he does want that, but:

„But if you really don’t wanna, Uma, we do your thing. You’re the Captain.“

He reaches out and immediately retracts when he realises what he is doing, leaving the choice to her.

But, you see, she doesn’t think she could say no to him right now.

She hovers her hand close, so torturously fucking <i>close</i>, as she assures: „It’s fine.“ There is something about the thought of Harry clearly marked as hers that sounds deeply appealing to her.

„It’s fine.“

„Are you gonna mark my face, Uma?“

„You wouldn’t mind…?“ she adds the question as an afterthought.

„Not at all.“

Still, she makes no move, hesitant to break the taboo that the Isle society holds so dear. But what is Isle society to her? Why should she care?

„Uma, please.“

She brings her hand to him yet, she can now barely see it over the storm that his soul is creating.

Closer yet.

In the next heartbeat, Harry moves: He captures her hand with his, brings it to his cheek, presses his lips to her pulse point, all in one dizzyingly fast movement.

It is Uma’s time to freeze.

The space around them comes to a standstill as he pulls away just enough to show his now-stained lips.

Uma, he forms soundlessly.

She sinks down to him. He lets go of her and she slowly pulls away her hand, looking at the colour now coating it from both sides, almost matching blood in the tone. She doesn’t say anything as she hugs him for the first time in over a month.

He just hugs her, too, silent until he whispers her name into her hair in a tone so completely awestruck that it almost makes Uma cry. He just holds her tighter.

She doesn’t know how long it is when she finally speaks again: „Harry, I still did a stupid thing. My mom’s potion: I can see souls now. It’s so confusing – that’s why I looked so off on the deck.“

He doesn’t let go of her. She doesn’t think he will any time soon.

„Is that why your eyes were so weird?“ he asks.

„Weird?“

You see, she could get up and look into the mirror again, but she simply isn’t doing that now.

„Yeah. Looked like your mother’s. Like there was some glittery sheen over it. You wear it better though.“ He smiles as he says that, she can hear it in his voice. She pulls away a bit.

„Hmm, definitely,“ he says as he looks at her, „You look so pretty, darling. I can tell you that now, right?“

Yes, yes he can. Now, at least: Later, in public? She might have to think that through yet.

„And I can stay here with you until it goes away,“ he adds, since magic doesn’t last on the Isle of the Lost, „Or until you get used to it.“ (Since soulmates shouldn’t really exist on the Isle either, so who knows?)

She hugs him again.

„Stay.“

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