#I just don't have time to get into it right now jdkajkgsdjg

[sparrowmoth]

A/N: @hoodpane Happy birthday, Cay! <3 I started writing this little Jal drabble as a rarepair treat for your birthday, but unfortunately, I did not actually get to the ending yet so, uhhh, consider this part one with a bit (okay, a lot) of a cliffhanger as to the resolution jdkajgksdg.

*** Imagine that the Evil Queen, having once vied with Maleficent for the seat of power on the Isle, has seen in Maleficent's defeat her chance to reclaim that former glory of empire. She subdues Maleficent's pig-headed guards and with the brute strength of her new army, subjects the other inhabitants of the Isle to a punishing medieval style of rule.

It is to this newfound structure of power which Mal returns, alone and unsuspecting, wanting so much for the comforts of her old life that she never even stops to consider things might have changed.

If she had, she would have never arrived so boldly in daylight.

Her mother's guards are upon her almost at once, but where before they showed restraint in handling her, they have none of it now. Her bones are creaking from the force with which they grip her arms, and she can't feel the ground beneath her. She kicks at knees and thighs, then at hands that attempt to restrain her further. She hisses threats of what her mother will do, but her threats are met with... laughter?

Mal is thrust into her mother's throne room, pushed to her knees.

The robes that pool at the base of the dais are deep blue, not black. The hand that appears in her vision is pale, yes, but the nails aren't right. They're painted, long and polished—not a sign of wild, inborn power like a raptor's talons. No, something else, like a shard of glass: fragile once and even still, but dangerous for having been broken.

Before Mal can raise her head, her chin is sharply grabbed and her gaze is thrust up to meet that of the Evil Queen. Not her mother.

It hits her, then: this isn't her mother's throne room.

But it used to be.

*** Jay's not careful. He doesn't have the time. The King or whoever can have him arrested later—assuming he makes it back—but right now, he's assured no one will follow him, since he's made it to the bridge.

They'll know where he's going, since they were all supposed to go together after Mal—him and Carlos and Evie and Ben. He'd agreed without even crossing his fingers. But he'd never meant to let them come. He'd offered to bring the limo around, just to take off with it.

Carlos and Evie would be safe now, with no other way onto the Isle except Fairy Godmother's wand—and she wasn't about to help them.

*** Once through the barrier, Jay destroys the remote after a moment's hesitation. He can't risk it being stolen. Mal can open the barrier for them to leave, once he finds her. He won't be leaving otherwise.

Not without her.

Strangely, though it is barely evening, the streets coming up from the bridge are quiet and empty. Jay moves quickly to the rooftops, where it feels much less like he might be ambushed any moment. He makes out a cluster of light and noise in the distance, from where the towers of Bargain Castle rise well above the points of other buildings around.

He doesn't stop to think, just runs breathless until he's nearer.

There's a crowd in the square and many up on the rooftops, so on the fringes of the bustle, Jay drops back into the streets, tears a piece of dusty canvas from the roof of a market stall and pulls it over his head.

He roughly shoulders through the crowd without apology, keeping a tight grip on his makeshift cloak to keep his face in his shadows.

That is, until he steps up to the edge of the messy gathering, where the senseless roar of the crowd in his ears reforms, sharply, suddenly, into intelligible words between bouts of laughter. His fingers slacken and he drops his cloak, standing frozen as fistfuls of rotten fruit and dung are thrown with cries of, "Long live Evil! Long live the Queen!"

Mal is almost unrecognizable as she stands in the pillory, her bleach blonde hair and pale face streaked red and brown and orange. She's small as she ever was with her mother's castle looming behind her.

Except it's not her mother who stands smiling on the balcony.

➼ To be continued.

#hoodpane #<3 #descendants #descendants fanfiction #descendants drabbles #my fanfiction #my drabbles #jal #mal bertha #jay son of jafar #descendants fandom #confession: I wrote two endings for this but I hated them both #it's fine though because I have a third idea and it's better!! #I just don't have time to get into it right now jdkajkgsdjg #anyway I read a lot about pillories before writing this #like too much #I know things about pillories I don't rly want to know #okay anyway happy birthday Cay! <3<3