water and magic
She was water. She was desperate for a voice. She wanted command. To rule something. She slipped past and was harassed, kicked and called out. But life had always been rough. Shrimpy. Redundant.
Her mother told her about magic and the sea and the great evil like they were one thing. And, somehow, she started believing with whatever hope to believe she had in her that the day the sea met magic again evil would arise. And if she was the one to bring them together, she would be the queen of that evil. It was a distant thought, a dream she didn’t think much of. She was busy trying to conquer something she couldn’t measure. Something seemingly already conquered.
She could see the water past a barrier she could not cross due to that same lack of magic that laughed in her face whenever she thought of it. But if anyone on that chunk of miserableness that was the isle knew water, it was her. She was the daughter of the Sea Witch. She was destined for water. She was water. And she didn’t know how to swim.
She was magic. Flashing green eyes and bright purple hair. Mal was the rampage of the isle, a walking attack of mayhem. She was mischievous, and for all she did she was mythic. How could anyone have a clue she was looking for something too?
Mal always seemed to be above in some way, catching a fight but not joining a crowd of name-callers if she was not at the head of them. No matter what they were fighting for, no matter who was chasing who across passages in the center of the isle Mal knew like the palm of her hand, they weren’t aiming to destroy each other. They didn’t find hatred in them. Those first years, that flawed childhood, running barefoot, soaked to the bone and hungry, they chased each other for different reasons. Mal chased a rival. But not one she hated. She chased a rival that made her blood pound. That tiny girl, even smaller than her at the time, had a nerve to cross her. Uma chased that magic. Mal had become part of that dream of magic she felt when she thought of evil. They were playing the isle’s crooked version of tag. And it grew like a fire.
As they grew, that flame that had started in their childhood ignited.
They didn’t see each other much. Never to be considered “friends” or worse. They held a fight every now and then, and when they screamed and kicked, they knew what they were really saying.
That met under decks, behind buildings in the part of the isle where the floor was always wet and slippery, but you couldn’t scrape up a drop. That was Uma’s place. Eating fried fish that was probably even more underfed than them, but still not rotten, unlike anything Mal ate on the daily. They spoke in hushed voices. Mal didn’t show anyone empathy, or mercy, not that she knew what either of those words meant. They spoke about ruling the world. Mal would rule over the isle some day beside her mother. Not if Uma was standing. They smiled like it was a challenge, and maybe it was. And that fire spread through their skin slowly. They saw in each other an ambition they only knew in themselves. They started seeing in the other what they were looking for.
In it’s shiniest moment it felt like victory. Closed doors, humid air, empty boxes. In Uma’s mind they would build an empire. In her mind she saw them as equals, ruling above it all. What was all? More than they could imagine. She had finally gotten magic with her. In Mal’s mind she had gotten an ally she respected. For the first time in her life someone she could trust. And if ever their visions were conflicting, and if ever their ambitions battled, they wouldn’t let it last. They wouldn’t let anything get between them. Not Uma organizing a crew of sorts, or getting a pirate ship, not Mal trying to scheme the best evil strategy in history on the side. They remained. For Uma, past and no matter anything else they remained. They had each other. And one day it would be only each other, against everyone else.
But it went up in flames. Everything did. It came crashing down. They hadn’t realized when they were clinging to each other that they were clinging to the last treads of something that couldn’t be. It couldn’t be like that. It couldn’t be right then or there. Mal let go, she moved on, even if it hurt her in a way. She would never show any weakness. Still something remained. Mal had become that dream of magic in Uma’s head. She still had all her faith installed in her, whether she was or could be with her or not. When Mal went away, Uma still hosted the dream that she would be the one. Mal would be the one to unleash evil with magic and make her myth come true. She had her chance, a chance both of them had always wanted. Uma watched her leave, no longer by her side but with her hopes on her still.
Treason was little. Treason was not something she’d accuse her of. Betrayal. Pure betrayal she felt on her bones, to her very rotten core. And more. What she hoped and she believed. She believed in her. And she was gone. Truly gone. Had she been dead, she thought, it would have only fed the flames of destruction inside of her. But no, she was just gone. She was dead to her. She would end her. She would destroy her. Those were all furious thoughts. Thoughts where her pain twisted until it became hatred. And those thoughts became her new beliefs, in the absence of a Mal. In the absence of her magic, of her hope, of her only belief. Those were her new rules. And she would unleash evil one way or another, it was more clear than ever now. Evil over Auradon. That was her new hope. With her feet on a table, firm on the deck, and her hands wrapped around the handles of her swords, with the weight of her captain hat on her head, with her first mate, her crew to her every order, she admired her ship. That was her new magic. And it would never be quite like the other.