Gold | Disney Descendants

Chap 2

Harry knew he wasn't supposed to go in his dad's cabin. It was one of many rules Hook had ... well rules he had for Harry at least. Harriet and CJ seemed slip passed all of their father's rules with relative ease.

Where his sisters ran free on the ship, he wasn't allowed to even go in his father's room. Especially not when Hook's sleeping, but the door's unlocked and he needs something from Hook's desk. He can hear his father snoring inside and slowly reaches for the door handle. The door creaks and Harry pauses, waiting for the snoring to continue. When it does, he quietly slips inside. He stares at Hook while creeping towards the desk, inching slowly across the room. It takes a few minutes to find what he was looking for, but when he finally does, he shoots deftly out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Expertly dodging over all the planks he know will creak loudly, he darts down the docks towards the beach.

"Twyla?" he whisper-calls, boots sinking into the soft sank. Glancing around, he waits for the telltale glow of the fairy. Seconds later, she flutters across the rocks, poised on her toes when she stops atop a rock. He grins at her and she glows brightly back, which is as good as a smile he can get considering her teeny features.

He pushes himself up onto the rock beside her and sets down the stuff he'd taken from his dad's cabin. An inkwell and a rolled-up bunch of papers.

"I think I figured out a better way for us to talk that doesn't include sitting in the sand," he says and pulls the cork out of the inkwell. Twyla creeps forward, stands on her toes and grabs the lip of the inkwell. It stains her hand black and she pulls it back to stare at it. As she does, he rolls out one of the sheets of paper. Twyla rubs her fingers together, the slick black ink slipping down her arm. Looking towards the paper, she leans over and plants her hand on it, leaving an inky black handprint on the edge.

Twyla shines brightly as she looks up at him, wings flittering and bouncing quickly on her toes.

"So, questions?" he asks. She nods rapidly.

"You came from Neverland, right? Well, what was it like there?" he asks. Twyla flits up and dips her toes into the inkwell. After tapping her toes on the lip to get rid of the extra ink, she zips over to the paper and scrawls a number of words; 'magical', 'amazing'. Then, she pauses a moment.

'Boring.'

Harry frowns: "Boring?"

She shrugs. 'All work. Not meant to leave. Too many rules.'

Harry chuckles and shakes his head.

"Has to be more interesting than here, lass. Come on, tell me something. You haven't been stuck on this damned island your entire life." A hint of disdain for his living situation comes to his voice, but the scowl falls from his face as he looks back down to her.

Twyla shifts from foot to foot, stretches her arms, then twists and starts to write again. The words are a little wonky as she scrawls. It takes a little while and a couple pieces of paper, but she writes out a little story about the time she visited England and met a little girl on the cusp of the new year. Harry pauses as it comes to the end and he sets the paper down near her.

"Fireworks?" he asks. Twyla shoots up into the air. She flits away from the rock and seems to draw in a deep breath. She whips her hands out, shooting out a bunch of miniature sparks of light. Harry laughs, gives a clap as the fairy bows then comes to land back on the rock again. A small frown draws across his face and he looks at her again.

"Twyla ... Do you ever think I'll leave this place?" he asks quietly. It takes her only a second to scrawl 'YES' in large swirly letters, complete with plenty of exclamation points. A soft laugh escapes him.

"Say, if I do get out of here, will you take me to Neverland?"

Twyla lifts up and draws circles all around the 'YES' again. He wouldn't say 'thank you' aloud, but it was obvious in the way he smiles. Shaking it off, he glances out towards where the ocean meets the sky. It's starting to get light out there. It's as much of a sunrise they get for a few mere hours before the sun disappears over the smog above the Isle.

"See you tomorrow?" Twyla nods quickly, sprinkling pixie dust into the still-wet ink on the paper below her. He smiles back, pops the cork back in the inkwell, gathers up the papers and then waves goodbye as Twyla flies away. With a short sigh, he turns to go home. He dumps the papers that she'd written on tonight in a flaming trash bin as he passes. The inkwell gets hidden away in his room and then he's clambering into his hammock, out like a light in seconds.

—— §

Any sleep he was planning on getting was quickly ended as CJ raps her knuckles loudly on the door before continuing to stomp down the ship. He flings a sandy boot in the direction of the door, groaning in reply, still face down in the pillow. He didn't even get the chance to fall back asleep as Harriet hollers as she passes by his room, pounding loud on his door with three hard thumps of her fist. He drags his hands through his hair and flips out of his hammock, landing harshly in the ground, only cushioned by his jacket. He doesn't stop to say anything to either of his sisters after he dresses. Just finishes shoving his sword into its sheath at his hip and walks off towards Ursula's Chip Shop.

He walks in, drops his sword in the holder by the door and finds his places next to Gil at the long table at the back. Minute later, Uma is flopping down between them, easily snagging a handful of chips from Harry's plate. Her chewing slows as she glances at him.

"Hey Harry? What's on your jacket?"

At her question, he glances down and sees a glittering of gold dust on his jacket sleeve. He quickly wipes it off, making sure nobody else saw it as he did. Uma raises a brow at him, arms crossing, waiting for an answer. He smiles, putting a finger to his lips as if to quiet her.

"Tell you later, darling."

She just rolls her eyes, repeating the motion as she hears her mother shout from the backroom, the flicker of a tentacle peeking around the corner.

"Fine. Later then."

The day passes as slowly as ever but soon enough, the lunch rush ends and it's just Uma, Harry and Gil left. From the back room, he hears Uma dump all the dishes in the sink, a mixed noise of sloshing water and the metal trays. She wrings out her hands on her a dirty towel, tossing it back over her shoulder as she walks back through the doors. Strolling over, Uma knocks against Harry's shoulder.

"Spill it, Har."

"Fairy dust," he answers simply. There's a pause of silence. Then laughter from the both of them. It echoes loud and raucous around the otherwise empty shop.

Uma claps a hand on his shoulder, shoving him.

"Really? Fairy dust?" Harry nods, eyes slight narrowed, obviously not pleased with their reaction. Uma's laughter quiets into chuckles as she leans her elbows on the counter. "There aren't fairies on the Isle, Harry."

"Well, not fairies. Just th' one ... I think."

Uma raises a brow at him. "There's a fairy? You've seen one?"

"Yeah."

"Sure you weren't dreaming?" Gil pipes up and Harry thwacks him hard on the shoulder. Gil just laughs.

"No! She's real."

"What's her name?" Gil continues, though his attention turns back towards his food.

"Twyla."

"And where is she then?" Uma pipes up, that disbelief still glinting in her eyes.

This, of course, sparks up an argument that last for an almost half hour until Harry finally agrees to take them to see her. At least by that point, they can't argue anymore as more people start coming into the shop. Uma jabs a finger into Harry's side.

"Tonight then. After the shop closes," she whispers, then turns to get back to work.