Chapter Text
It had been ten long years since the barrier to the Isle of the Lost had been brought down. Ten years in which the kids of the Isle had grown into adults in Auradon. So far from their past as villains that it had almost been forgotten entirely. It was for that very reason that Mal decided to throw an anniversary party.
A rager to rival those of old. To celebrate ten years of freedom. Everyone who was anyone was going, but villains only. The whole Isle was being transformed, food vendors in the streets, decorations hung, and the pièce de résistance, Hell Hall being done up exactly like the last party Mal had thrown on the Isle.
The very first – and only – party Evie ever went to there. Just days after her banishment had ended. It put a sour feeling in her stomach even as she pulled item after item out of her closet, looking for something that screamed wicked. That night had been a lot of things, things Evie tried not to think about, her and Mal had ended up as best friends. Dwelling on the past wouldn’t do any good. Dwelling on anything that had happened that night wouldn’t do any good.
By the time Evie was crossing the bridge to the Isle she’d managed to plaster a smile as fake as the ones she used to wear on her face. She didn’t have the same wistfulness for the Isle that Mal did. Was glad to see the place put behind her the moment she left. But the one thing she could say for certain, was that she’d missed Isle fashion. The way the leather trousers she’d chosen hugged her hips, accentuating every curve. It wasn’t what she usually wore nowadays, now it was more elegant dresses, princess cut, and modest. She was a successful businesswoman, former Royal Adviser to the King, it was expected. But this... this felt like her. She felt wicked, she felt sexy, in a way she hadn’t for the past ten years.
Evie had paired the trousers with a simple navy cropped vest, and heeled boots in the same shade that were adorned with gold spikes. She matched the gold with some chains looped around her waist, and her signature golden tiara with its red gems. The look had been finished with a gorgeous red leather jacket with flared cuffs and a swipe of apple red lipstick. Even if she didn’t feel at home on the Isle, she at least enjoyed looking the part.
Walking into Hell Hall was like a blast from the past. Black and white balloons filled the ballroom, streamers in matching colours draped from the ceiling. Though this time the decorations weren’t leftover relics from Cruella’s heyday, they were brought over specifically from Auradon. The whole place was lit with candles placed in antique candelabras. And there, in the centre of the room, a swing hanging from the chandelier. Evie hadn’t had a chance to try it out back then, she hadn’t had a chance to do much before Mal had shoved her in that closet. Again Evie brushed those thoughts aside. Forgive, forget, right?
Carlos had even somehow managed to convince his cousin Diego to reform his band for the night. So for one night only the Bad Apples – Evie loved the name – were reunited to play what was being billed as the party of the decade. There was no photo booth set up this time around though, Mal had put a whole ‘what happens on the Isle stays on the Isle’ policy in place. No phones, no photos, and definitely no one born off the Isle allowed.
Evie made a beeline towards where the bar had been set up. At least the food and drink were up to a better standard, she didn’t think she could stomach what they used to have to back then.
“Toad’s-blood shot?” a voice said from beside her, and she turned with a grin, wrapping her arms around him.
“Carlos! It’s been too long, I’ve missed you,” she said, giving him a squeeze before pulling back to look at him.
“I’ve missed you too! I know, it’s so hard to get together what with the kids—”
Evie cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips. “Uh uh! Mal will kill you if she finds you talking about real life, tonight is about celebrating our heritage, remember?”
Carlos rolled his eyes and pretended to nip at her finger to get her to move. “How many years later and I’m still hosting a party and hoping Mal won’t kill me,” he sighed, reaching for two shot glasses and a glass bottle filled with red liquid. “It’s cherry vodka,” he answered the disgusted look on her face, as he poured them each a shot.
“Was it actually toad’s-blood last time?” she asked, accepting the drink and clinking their glasses in cheers.
“Yep,” he replied downing the shot in time with her, “mildly hallucinogenic. The things we used to do to get high, eh?”
“Not me,” she responded immediately and Carlos laughed.
“Not me either. That’s why me and you hid out in my treehouse instead of joining the party,” he grinned, grabbing them both a glass of alcoholic spiced cider.
Evie accepted the drink with a forced smile. Yes, that was why she had spent the night out in the treehouse. Couldn’t have been the closet full of fur traps or anything. But she wasn’t going to bring that up. “Have you seen Jay or Mal yet?” she asked instead.
“Mal’s floating around trying to get people to play party games,” he chuckled, “and I think Jay planned on pinching some drinks from the street vendors first, for old time's sake.”
Evie smiled, all the vendors were goblins being paid to work the event, and all the food and drink was free. Jay knew he wouldn’t actually be stealing anything. Maybe this party wasn’t such a bad idea after all. A way to let that side of themselves out without repercussions. Even after a decade in Auradon it was still hard to fully silence a lifetime’s worth of Isle teachings.
Jay arrived alongside Gil somewhere around Evie’s third glass of cider. She hugged them both at once, arms slung around their necks. Gil began talking excitedly about the different foods Jay had swiped for him, their fingers tangled between them. Evie smiled, the perks of being married to another villain she supposed. Not that she begrudged them having each other, she adored them together, she always had. From the moment their trips to see the world became more, to the moment Gil blurted out they were more than friends, to their wedding day. Standing side by side in suits she’d designed. She smiled softly at Jay who grinned back, she loved seeing the people she loved get their happy ending.
Uma and Harry walked in not long later, forever captain and first mate, though they hadn’t been that in a long time. Not in ‘real life’. Evie watched as they wound their way through the crowds of people, drinking, dancing, Harry pushing Uma on the chandelier swing. An emotion she could not – would not – name tightened in her stomach and she looked away. Forcing the smile firmly back in place. ‘Never let it slip’, the cruel whisper of her mother swirled inside her mind. She pushed it all aside as her eyes locked on Mal, sitting with a circle of people. Evie didn’t think, she just crossed the room and forced herself into the space beside Mal.
“E! I’ve been looking for you! Thought you might want to play,” Mal said with a grin. “Seven Minutes in Heaven.”
Evie’s heart lurched, for several reasons, but most pressingly the very real memory of Mal cackling as she shoved Evie into that death trap of the closet. ‘Did I say Seven Minutes in Heaven? No, you’re playing Seven Minutes in Hell!’ They’d moved past that, Mal probably didn’t even remember, let alone think it would still affect Evie. But still her heart beat fast even as she nodded, smile plastered on her face. Mal spun the bottle in the middle of the circle, it landed first on Ginny Gothel who let out a girlish giggle, then on Anthony Tremain, who seemed just as pleased to be chosen. Evie’s stomach turned as they stood because surely, surely, they were going to use a different closet. Only, when had Evie got so lucky? Of course they headed towards the exact closet that had kept her traumatised for years. She couldn’t even look at furs in the same way.
Mal leant towards her, breath heavy with alcohol as she spoke, “You look hot tonight, E. You’re gonna break some hearts like the old days,” she smirked.
Before Evie could reply Harry appeared behind her and Mal, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “Evenin’ ladies. Room fir one more?”
The circle shuffled and Harry plopped himself down between her and Mal, a wicked grin on his face. “Ma turn, I think.” He reached for the bottle and spun it hard, the glass clattering in rotation after rotation until it finally began to slow. Going past face after face she barely recognised anymore until...
Mal looked down as the bottle stopped in front of her, she frowned, then grinned, turning the bottle directly to Evie. “Sorry Harry, I’m just the games master. Evie will spend Seven Minutes in Heaven with you though.”
No. Surely Mal was joking?! Why had she joined in this stupid game? She wasn’t that girl anymore, she didn’t want to break hearts, especially not— no, she cut the thought off abruptly, that thought was off limits tonight. Before she could even open her mouth Harry had got to his feet, bent low with one hand stretched out towards her. She took his hand against her better judgement, her heart pounding traitorously as he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before straightening up with a wicked grin on his face. Harry had always been one of the Isle kids that had retained that roguish charm. The bad boy. A pirate amongst princes.
“Let meh escort yeh, ma lady?” he drawled, linking their fingers without waiting for a reply, and tugging her gently towards the closet.
Harry had always been attractive. Evie wasn’t blind. She hadn’t gone blind during ten years in Auradon either. His piercing blue eyes and dark tousled hair were as alluring as they ever were. His hand was warm in hers, nails painted black for the occasion, eyeliner rimming his eyes the way it used to. She hadn’t seen him in makeup in a long time, not since... well... a long time.
“I like your eyeliner,” she said as they came to a stop outside the closet of horrors, “it looks good.”
He smirked, looking her slowly up and down teasingly, “You don’ look so bad yehself, princess.”
She wanted to say he was more prince than she was a princess nowadays, but again, that conversation was off limits. Instead she just shook her head with a smile, looking him up and down in response. Red tartan trousers paired with a white shirt that had expensive looking ruffling down the front, imported most likely. She assumed he’d ditched whatever jacket he’d brought at the door the same as she had.
Just then the door to the closet opened and Anthony and Ginny came tumbling out, flushed faces and kiss-reddened lips. Ginny giggled, her hand in Anthony’s as she dragged him back to the circle. “All yours!” she called over her shoulder.