Chapter 1: errand rat

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I spent 10 years on the isle of the lost, living in a dilapidated tower barely raised by an old hag on the edge of the isle shielded by deep woods, now the hag couldn't do much given when fairy godmother brought her back from the dead she didn't bother to at least de-age her a little bit so all our money came from me, it started out with panhandling at 3 then a scam or two at 4, then becoming an errand rat at 6. Most errands were just simple fetch quests, some rings for the evil queen, a stealing run here and there for jafar, some were a little... messier but they paid for food and a nice leather jacket and satchel. I was about 7 when i was on one of my runs and went by the docks, passing by the jolly roger i saw a little boy with too much eyeliner dangling his hand over the mouth of an alligator on the edge of the boat
"Hey! Numb nuts! What are you doing!?"
I yell, the boy, stunned, falls off the edge and into the water, i let out a disappointed sigh and ran to the edge of the docks putting my satchel down by the boat and jumped in the water scooping the boy out of the water by the armpits. Now dripping wet we're both sitting on the dock death glaring each other
"What was that for!?"
He yells
"Hey, you're the idiot who was trying to lose a hand!"
I yelled back
"Well how else am I supposed to get a hook?"
He retorted, I let out another sigh and don't even bother to respond
"I'm Harry Hook, you know, the son of Captain Hook?"
He looks at me like i'm stupid, i reach into my satchel and pull out a silver hook with a simple vine pattern engraved on it's base
"Here"
I hand him the hook
"So you don't do this again"
He examines the hook for a minute and takes it reluctantly
"Well maybe i wouldn't need this if you didn't stop me"
He groveled
"Yeah well, sucks to suck"
I grab my satchel and turn to leave
"You got a name?"
Harry asks
"Why do you care?"
He shrugs his shoulders
"I'm Raina...daughter of...Gothel...probably"
Harry cocks his head and looks me up and down
"You sure about that?"
"Not really, i just choose not to ask"
I walk off the docks and into town. I make it to Jafar's shop, a small broken down garage with walls lined with stolen items, Jafar sitting behind the register and his son jay stocking shelves
"Hey"
"Raina! What'd you get for me today?"
I put my satchel on the register table and dump it out, a pile of gold and rusted silver jewelry falls out
"How much?"
I ask, Jafar looks though the pile, carefully examining each item before going under the table pulling out a handful of cash and sliding it in the satchel
"$20"
Not as much as i'd like but such is, I pull my satchel off the table and walk out the store waving goodbye to Jay as I leave
"Bye Jay"
"Bye Raina"
After a long walk i get back to the tower, climbing up the side of it i come inside to find gothel lying on an armchair
"Hello mother"
"Raina"
She turns her head to look at me
"The brown in your hair is showing, you'll have to get it bleached"
I pull my long braid in front of me and find the long strip of brown going down the right side of the braid
"How much money did you make today?"
She asks
"$20.50"
She turns her head away from me and goes to sleep on the chair, I walk up the broken stairs into my room putting my jacket and satchel on the door handle, i put half my earning in a dresser drawer and untie my braid letting down 75ft of hair, damn near took up the entire room (yeah, not fun) i examine the brown strand, why'd i have bleach it? I'll just cut it off anyway, it's not like it would do anything, it's not like I have magic hair like rapunzel. I take off my boots and flop down on my rickety bed holding my left hand out in front of my face allowing it to emit a golden yellow energy
"Why?"
I think, why do I have magic? Why can I use it within the barrier? It makes no sense, if i'm "evil" then it shouldn't work but it does is it genetics? Is it a blindspot in the barrier? Later that night I was lying in bed remembering that kid harry who i had given that hook to
"Should have made him pay for it"
I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

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