Chapter Two

0 0 0
                                    

Meet Ben.  Son of Beast and Belle.  Seriously, the kid's got amazing eyes and this incredible hair.  You can totally see where he gets it from.  Anyway, he comes up with this crazy idea...

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Ben's POV

I kept staring out the castle window, across the sparkling blue sea.  Even from here, I could see the Isle of the Lost, shimmering behind its magical barrier.  It was beautiful, in a strange, sad way.  It felt wrong, seeing those kids trapped there.

The royal tailor was measuring me for my coronation suit – my coronation suit! – when Mom and Dad walked in.

"How is it possible you're going to be crowned king next month?" Dad asked, adjusting his glasses.  "You're just a baby!"

"He's turning sixteen, dear," Mom corrected, looking lovely as always.

"Sixteen?" Dad repeated, taking off his glasses.  "That's far too young! I didn't make a good decision until I was at least forty-two."

Mom chuckled. "You married me at twenty-eight," she reminded him.

"It was either you or a teapot," Dad winked at me.

We all laughed.

"Mom, Dad," I began, "I've decided on my first official proclamation."

They exchanged a smile.

"I think the kids on the Isle of the Lost should get a chance... to live in Auradon."

Their smiles vanished.  They stared at me, mouths agape.  The tailor practically jumped.

"Every time I look at that island," I said, gesturing to the window, "I feel like they've been abandoned."

"The children of our sworn enemies?" Dad exclaimed.  "Living among us?"

"We'll start with a few – the ones who need help the most," I explained. "I've already picked them."

"You have?" Dad's brow furrowed.

Mom put a hand on Dad's arm. "I gave you a second chance," she pointed out, then looked at me. "Who are their parents?"

"Cruella De Vil, Jafar, the Evil Queen..." I took a deep breath. "...and Maleficent."

The tailor gasped and dropped his notepad.

"Maleficent?!" Dad roared.  "She's the worst villain in the land!"

"Dad, just listen!" I pleaded.

"I won't hear of it!" he insisted.  "They're guilty of unspeakable crimes!"

The butlers opened the door and the tailor practically fled.

"But their children are innocent," I argued.  "Don't they deserve a normal life?"

Dad stared at me, a long, hard look.

"Dad," I said, giving him my most pleading look.

He finally looked at Mom.  "I suppose the children are innocent," he conceded.

Descendants 1Where stories live. Discover now