Chapter Text
𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠,
𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧
Growing up with Maleficent was the hardest thing a child should ever have to do. She didn't lock Mal up, she didn't beat her to a pulp (though a backhand or a slap wasn't off the table), yet she simply kept away from touching her daughter. From showing any kind of affection. Instead, all she did was have Mal run jobs. Have Mal do this, have Mal do that— Mal was a teenager, and that sort of thing made a teenager very angry and also, although she couldn't admit it yet, very sad. On one of those jobs, the latest, Mal found herself in a jewellery shop that had a familiar name hanging above the door.
“What's your name, honey?” Came Hades’ voice from behind her, startling her enough that she whipped around like a child on a sugar rush.
“It sure isn't honey.” She shot back perhaps a bit too sharply, watching the man's eyebrows furrow.
“Funny,” the man hummed with a neutral expression, his eyes narrowing in on her. “I'm Hades. Hades Hope, ring a bell?”
It rung every bell yet, as she looked at him, her heart beating in her throat, she shook her head, and it may have made her seem shy, because he let out a chuckle so unlike all the things she'd heard about him that she frowned.
“So, Ms. Not Honey,” Hades began, pursing his lips as Mal passed by him, taking in her… brightly coloured hair. “What can I do you for?”
“I heard you have a… special pearl necklace in your possession.”
“You look entirely too young to be in any circle where they're talking about my stuff, so who really wants this necklace, kid?” Hades quirked a brow to which she drew her arms up, crossing them over her chest before huffing.
“Just for the record, I'm sixteen,” she was quick to answer. “And maybe I just like expensive jewellery.”
Lifting her dragon claw necklace, Hades hummed lowly, agreeing with her statement as he examined the glint of the stone within her pendant. “Maybe.” With a slow smile stretching across his lips, he let the now warmed pendant drop, falling back to its rightful place on her neck. “Pearls, though? You don't seem the type.”
“A tie? You don't seem the type for that, either.” Mal pointed out, gesturing at his striped tie which, indeed, was out of place for the devil in many of the tales she'd been told. The Devil devoid of Hope, they used to say (which was ironic, because Hope is his last name).
“Smart. Smart… your father teach you that?”
“The pearls?” Mal avoided the statement by making herself seem impatient— overly eager, a little glint in her eye that came across as excitement. The Devil seemed to fall for it as he gave her a quick nod.
“Follow me then, kid.”
“Not a kid, either.”
“Everything under twenty-five is.” Hades shot back, to which Mal rolled her eyes, the green taking a hint of amusement to them, because he pretended he was older than fifty when he was barely forty, himself. Speaking as if he'd been around for thousands of years. “Right. The pearls! Rare beauties, they'll compliment your eyes quite nicely.” Lifting the beautiful Tahitian Pearls out of its glass casing, he held up the necklace to where the light glanced over them beautifully, washing the pearls in a golden, angelic glow that had Mal, who truly didn't care for pearls, widening her eyes.
“Whoa,” she gasped, much to the man’s amusement. “That's more beautiful than I'd imagined.”
“It's always more beautiful than people imagine,” Hades began, a smile twitching at his lips as if he'd hand-crafted the necklace, himself. “It's the way it catches the light… they're glowing, truly beautiful things, pearls.” Then, looking down at her dragon claw necklace before glancing at the pearls again, he seemed to get an idea, inhaling to speak. “Turn around.”
“What are you going to do, kill me with it?”
“These pearls? I wouldn't dare. That leather threaded one I got behind the desk, I might use.” He teased before nudging at her shoulder for her to turn. “Here,” bringing the necklace up around her neck, he clipped it carefully in place so it sat perfectly around her neck, ushering her towards the mirror to take a look. “Maybe I was wrong… it does suit you.”
“As a man named Hades, you admit being wrong way too easily.” Noted Mal as she let her fingers ghost over the pearls, not fully touching them, but feeling the weight of them so close.
“I may share a name with the ruler of the underworld, but I assure you, the only thing I'm ruling is the jewellery business.”
“At least you're ruling something, I guess.” She said with the roll of her shoulder, eyes catching on the necklace once more.
“You're sixteen,” he hummed. “With eyes like yours, you're going to trick a lot of people, hon— if that's what you're interested in. Could make a lot of money, too.” To that, she frowned, causing him to shake his head in disbelief.
“Isn't that what you do?”
“I only trick those who’re jerks. Are you a jerk?”
“I… hope not?”
“Then you've got nothing to worry about. Now,” moving to unclip the necklace once she seemed more interested in the office, itself, than the 75k necklace around her neck, he drew it away before lowering it carefully back into its protective casing. “The walls, unfortunately, aren't for sale.” He joked, causing the girl to roll her eyes.
“I wasn't thinking of buying the walls, I was thinking of buying that.” She pointed towards a small bracelet hanging from the wall. It had a beautiful charm hanging from it, a gorgeous green that was all too familiar.
“Sadly that isn't for sale, either,” he began. “It belonged to my ex-wife… horrible woman, but beautiful bracelet, isn't it?”
“If…” clearing her throat, Mal rocked forward on her heels. “If you hate her so much, why did you keep her bracelet?”
“I don't like to forget things, so I keep little pieces of my memory all around. Bracelets, necklaces— I even have a Chinese Jian somewhere. Someone stabbed me with it.” He explained, to which Mal’s eyes widened.
“If you really are thinking of buying the necklace, I will need your name,” explained Hades as he turned around to face her. “‘Honey’ won't do it.”
“I'll give you my name when I've decided.” She shot back, watching his eyes narrow in amusement. “Thank you.”
“Are you sure we've never met before? You look awfully familiar.”
“I guess I've just got one of those faces.” Mal shrugged.
“You definitely don't. Not with that hair… those eyes. You're entirely unforgettable, kid.”
Sniffing, Mal turned to look over her shoulder. “I should…”
“Go?” He finished for her, to which she nodded as she let her eyes find him once more. “Next time you come to this neighbourhood, take a friend, or tell ‘em you know Hades. They'll know to back—”
“That's not needed.” She was quick to cut in, uncrossing her arms to pluck at a loose thread on her patchwork jacket. “I know how to take care of myself.”
“Let's hope so.”
⍟
“Did you get it?” Was the first thing her mother asked as Mal, sickeningly pale and with her hands trembling, pushed her way inside the house. “Mal? Mal! Did—”
“No, mother,” Mal sniffed, forcing her hands to still as she brought one up to her forehead, wiping the back of her hand across her brow to brush away the tension gathering there. “No, I didn't get it. Yet, I'll…”
“Oh, you know how I hate waiting,” purred Maleficent as she reached across the table to grab her daughter's chin, angling the girl's face down with a grip painful enough for the girl to bite down on the inside of her cheek, feeling old scars there, as she'd bitten the inside of her mouth since the day she learned what teeth were, and that she had them, too. “What do we say when we're late, hm?”
“I'm sorry…?”
“We say ‘I will do better, I will go right now’,” Maleficent corrected with a dark chuckle. “Oh, thank you, Mal! You're so sweet to your poor mother… and remember,” pulling the girl a tick closer, she watched her daughter's eyebrows twitch at the sting brought to her chin. “If you fail, I'm taking away your phone and I'm grounding you for… forever! How's that?”
“But—”
“Forever, Mal!”
“You know,” Mal stepped back, swatting at her mother's hand which was a big mistake. “I can't do everything you expect of me. He's… he could be dangerous—” she felt the sting of her cheek more than she'd seen the hit coming, the warmth rising in her cheek and the crackle it had made had tears gathering in Mal’s eyes, even if she'd rather will them away.
“Oh, he is, but you're no ray of sunshine either. You learned from the best, after all.” Her mother hummed, reaching for her daughter's hand but the girl backed away like she'd been burned by her mother's very touch. In a way, she had been. She always had been.
“Sometimes I wish you'd hated me like you hate him, too. I wish he would've been the one to raise me, at least then I wouldn't have to do all these stupid things!” Mal shouted out in her frustration, which caused Maleficent to snort, a truly cruel laugh forming.
“You think you would've been better off with him? The thief?” Maleficent shook her head in disbelief. “Pearls aren't the only things he's stolen. People say he collects souls. He killed people, Mally. He's no saint.”
“Neither are you.”
“No, but at least I'm here.” Maleficent pointed out. “Or do I need to remind you that he chose to leave you? He never loved you, sweetie, but I do.” Her mother voiced in a strangely kind voice. Much too kind for the Maleficent she knew. “I'd love you more if you got me that crystal, though.” There it was.
“You don't even know what love is.” The defiant teenager strained out, tears wetting her cheeks as she turned away from her mother. Pain was a weakness. Tears were a weakness, so she made sure her mother wouldn't see them. “You are entirely incapable of loving anything but yourself.”
“Believe what you will, but I do love you, Mally. You're my daughter.”
“It's Mal.” Mal corrected in a sharp tone, sharp enough to cut through even the strongest of metals. And the strongest of hearts.
“Mal,” Maleficent corrected. “You'll get me that crystal, won't you?”
“Yeah, mom… I will.”
“Oh. Good.”
Mal had grown up being unable to say no to her mother. Maleficent left no room for argument.
The second time Mal met her father was a few weeks later at an auction where she thought she'd been hidden in the back with the hood of her jacket drawn up and her hair tied back, but it seemed he hadn't lied when he'd said she was unforgettable because he found her only thirteen minutes after she'd arrived, plopping down next to her after pulling the previous seat owner out of it to take his spot, kicking his feet up on the backrest of the chair in front of him. “I'd say it's good to see you again, but you're not old enough to even be here.”
“Hence the whole… disguise, you know?” She pointed out before huffing. “And you're too old to be here. Is that a grey hair?”
“Where?” Asked the man as his hand instinctively went to his over-dyed blue hair.
“You look like you bleach your hair so much, I doubt a grey hair is possible.” Mal huffed, crossing her arms once more.
“What about you? You must've had to bleach it so many times.”
“No, actually. Only once.” Mal stated with a sense of pride that she hadn't massacred her hair just yet.
“So, what brings you here, if it's not my grey hair?” Asked Hades with a hint of humour in his tone, leaning in to follow Mal’s line of sight, too close for her to keep her hatred of him under wraps, physically leaning to the left so she could put even an inch of distance between them.
“That,” Mal pointed towards the insanely blue haired girl in the corner of the stage, standing out even if her mother had her shying away from the spotlight. “Is my friend. I'm here for her… why are you here?”
“Call it boredom,” Hades answered with a grin. “Or vague interest. Whatever you like.” Then: “so if she's your friend, why is she up there and not sitting here with you?”
“She’s the Queen’s daughter.”
“The Queen? Queenie Grimhilde?” Hades huffed, his arms crossing in a defiant way, making him appear much younger than he really is. “You kids call her The Queen?”
“I don't call her anything,” Mal cut in. “It's what she says she is, and there's no place for arguing because Evie's my friend, so.”
“Her name is Evie Grimhilde? That's…” he held himself back from making an ill timed joke, especially among the wrong crowd (one very sarcastic sixteen year old). “She, however, does seem the type to wear a pearl necklace… were you checking it out for her?”
Mal turned to look at him faster than she'd even registered the words. “What?”
“You're here, hiding at an illegal auction which could have you end up in juvie if you get caught… but you're here for her,” Hades pointed out with a wave of his hand. “I did that for someone once… going to juvie. He's probably the reason I'm here today, instead of being a rich banker or something.”
“No… I think you still would have been right here, right in this seat, annoying me.” Mal huffed. “What do you want, Hades?”
“I don't like not knowing something. I know everything that goes around in my city,” to that, the young girl clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “But I don't know you. I don't even know your name. All I know is that you showed up a few weeks ago.”
“Actually, I didn't show up, I've always lived here.”
“See, I don't believe that,” Hades leaned in, his chin propped up in the palm of his hand as he let his eyes narrow in on Mal’s. “You don't know who I am, you're calling Grimhilde the Queen, and you're friends, quote unquote maybe not just friends.”
“Fine, maybe I knew who you were. Maybe I'm keeping tabs on you. Maybe I'm a secret Russian spy.” She added the emphasis for dramatic effect, hearing a low scoff travel from him.
“You're cute, but you're not that good.” He shook his head. “I'm curious, though.”
With the buzz of her phone, Mal released a sigh of relief as she pushed her hand into her pocket to fish it out. “Saved by the bell, it seems.”
“I have to go.”
With the wiggle of his fingers, he watched her go.
At the age of seven, with her hair recently dyed from natural blonde to a bright purple, Maleficent the second introduced herself to people as Mal. Just Mal, not Mal, daughter of the craziest woman in the city, no, just Mal. Most people knew who her mother was, but none dared to mention it. She wasn't quick to make friends, because all she'd ever been taught was not to trust people but eventually, with her third month at Merview Elementary, the school in a little neighbourhood bordering on the river keeping The Isle and Auradon apart, Mal found the usually empty seat next to hers taken by a girl with blue hair. None of the other kids had dyed hair, but she did. Maybe that's why Mal didn't force her to get up as her mother had taught her. Maybe that's why Mal sat down. She didn't speak, though. Not until the strange blue haired girl introduced herself as Evie with a kind smile. Mal didn't understand why she was being kind. Her mother had told her kindness stemmed only from needing someone for something. It wasn't freely given, it was a way of blackmail, so she didn't respond, she simply looked down at the carvings on her table that she'd whittled away at when the teacher wasn't looking.
About twenty minutes into the day, Evie spoke once more, though this time she bumped her shoulder against Mal’s, and Mal visibly froze, her fingers curling tightly around her pencil as she heard her mother's voice screech loudly in her head. “You don't speak much, do you?”
“Not when I don't need to.” Mal answered truthfully, to which the girl frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“My mother says I can only talk when I need to. I don't need to.” She explained, to which the girl's frown only deepened.
“My mother just gives me my mirror and then I don't talk so much.”
“You like looking in the mirror?” Asked Mal in confusion, to which the girl's eyebrows raised.
“You don't?” Mal only shook her head, watching a smile stretch onto Evie's lips as she reached out, flicking a strand of Mal’s loose hair. “I like your hair.”
“I like yours.” Maybe it was an unlikely friendship, or maybe it was a pairing crafted by the Gods, themselves, neither knew, but they knew that, as of that day, they wouldn't be so alone anymore, so, day after day, they sat together all throughout elementary, and high school, too.
“—didn't sell anything. Why didn't you help, Evie?”
“Maybe… maybe I don't want to.” Mal could overhear as she creeped closer, hiding behind the wall to the back room where Evie and her mother were.
“You don't want to? We could become rich, Evie. Isn't that what you've always wanted?”
“No,” Evie simply answered, and Mal could hear the raw emotion in her tone. “That's what you've always wanted.”
“Evie—!”
“I have to go, mom. Mal is waiting.”
“Ah,” Mal heard Evie's footsteps come to a stop as her mother began once more. “She's a bad influence on you, Evie. She'd be a bad influence on anyone. Maleficent’s kid isn't your friend, honey. She's a poison.”
“You don't know anything about who she is, and if we're talking about poison, you're the expert.” Evie shot back, and for the first time ever, Mal feared her friend wouldn't make it out of that room without sporting a bruise. She'd seen her own mother angry too many times, but it seemed Evie's mother was only left speechless. “Now, I'd… I'd like to go to my friend.” Once she managed to make her way out in the hall, her eyes locked onto Mal’s, watching the purple haired girl bite down on the inside of her cheek, green eyes set alight with the hint of tears. “Mal, I'm sor—”
“Can we go? I can't be home late, my mother is already angry that I couldn't be home for dinner.”
“You haven't eaten?”
“I'll eat when I'm home, now just… let's go.”