Marlos

Past

The comfortable hum of conversation around the breakfast table faded, replaced by a sudden, jarring shift in time. The bright Auradon morning dissolved, giving way to the perpetual gloom and grime of the Isle of the Lost, decades earlier.

A small, dilapidated alleyway, reeking of stale garbage and damp stone, served as a makeshift playground. Six-year-old Mal, her purple hair a wild tangle and her eyes already holding a mischievous, almost cruel glint, stood over a trembling five-year-old Evie. Evie's usually pristine blue dress, a hand-me-down from her mother, was smudged with dirt, and a tear tracked a clean path down her cheek.

"Look at you, little princess," Mal sneered, her voice surprisingly sharp for such a small child. She poked Evie's arm with a twig she'd picked up, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make Evie flinch. "Crying over a little mud? What's your mommy going to say about that perfect dress now, huh?"

Evie sniffled, trying to wipe away her tears with a dirty hand, only smearing the grime further. "It's... it's my favorite," she whimpered, clutching a small, tarnished silver locket that had fallen from her neck.

Mal's eyes narrowed, spotting the locket. "Ooh, what's this? Something shiny from your precious queen mother?" She snatched it from Evie's grasp before the younger girl could react. "Let's see if it's as pretty as you think it is."

She held it up, examining it with a mock-serious expression, then let out a derisive giggle. "It's ugly! Just like everything else from your side of the barrier." With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the locket into a murky puddle at the edge of the alley.

Evie cried out, a heartbroken sob escaping her. She scrambled towards the puddle, her small hands splashing in the foul water, desperate to retrieve her treasured possession.

Mal just watched, her arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. "What's the matter, little crybaby? Can't handle a little dirt? You'll never survive here if you're going to be such a softie."

Another child, a slightly older boy with a mischievous glint in his eye, sauntered into the alley. It was Jay, already quick and agile, his movements fluid even at that young age. He stopped, observing the scene with a detached amusement.

"What's going on, Mal?" he asked, a grin forming. "Picking on the princess again?"

Mal shrugged, a flicker of pride in her eyes. "She needs to learn. The Isle doesn't care about pretty dresses or shiny trinkets."

Evie finally managed to fish the locket out of the puddle, her hands trembling, the silver now even more tarnished and muddy. She looked up at Mal, her blue eyes brimming with tears, a silent plea for kindness that Mal, at that age, was simply unwilling to give.

"You're mean, Mal," Evie whispered, her voice barely audible.

Mal just laughed, a harsh, unfeeling sound. "And you're weak, Evie. That's how it works here. The strong survive, and the weak... they get stepped on." She turned and sauntered away, leaving Evie alone in the grimy alley, clutching her muddy locket, her small shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

The scene shimmered, the harsh edges of the Isle softening, blurring, until the warm light of Auradon Prep's dorm room returned. The aroma of coffee and pastries filled the air once more, and the comfortable clinking of mugs brought them back to the present. Mal, sitting at the table, suddenly felt a cold knot in her stomach, a phantom echo of the cruel child she used to be. She glanced at Evie, who was still sipping her coffee, seemingly unaware of the sudden, unwelcome journey into the past.

Carlos and Jay, sensing the subtle shift in Mal's demeanor, exchanged a quick, knowing glance. Jay, ever perceptive, cleared his throat. "Hey, Carlos, I just remembered, I promised Ben I'd help him with those new training dummies. You wanna come give me a hand?" It was a transparent excuse, but the unspoken message was clear: give them space.

Carlos, understanding immediately, nodded. "Oh, right! The new dummies. Yeah, I should probably check those out. See if they can handle my... enhanced moves." He winked at Mal, trying to lighten the mood, then gave Evie a quick, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder as he and Jay made their exit, leaving the two girls alone.

The door clicked shut, and a comfortable silence settled over the room, broken only by the soft crunching of Helios and Luna's kibble. Evie, still oblivious to Mal's internal turmoil, took another sip of coffee, her gaze drifting to the window.

Mal, however, couldn't shake the vivid memory. She pushed her half-eaten scone away, the taste suddenly bitter. "Evie," she began, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Evie turned, a questioning look on her face. "Hm? What is it, M?"

Mal picked at a loose thread on the tablecloth. "Do you... do you remember when we were little? On the Isle?"

Evie chuckled softly, a nostalgic glint in her blue eyes. "Oh, M, how could I forget? Every day was an adventure. Usually involving you getting us into trouble and me trying to look fashionable while we escaped."

Mal managed a small, wry smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "No, I mean... do you remember... me being... mean to you? When we were really little. Like, six and five."

Evie's smile faded slightly. She looked at Mal, a flicker of understanding finally dawning in her eyes. "Oh," she said, her voice softer now. "You mean... the locket."

Mal flinched, surprised that Evie remembered such a specific, painful detail. "You... you remember that?"

Evie reached across the table and gently took Mal's hand. "Of course, I remember, M. It was my mother's. And you threw it in the mud." Her voice was devoid of accusation, simply stating a fact. "You were... well, you were a little terror back then. We all were, in our own ways. It was the Isle. We had to be."

Mal pulled her hand back, her gaze distant. "I was awful to you. I used to make you cry. I was so... so cruel." A wave of shame washed over her. "I don't know why I was like that."

Evie shook her head, her grip firm on Mal's hand now. "You know why, M. We were taught to be like that. Our parents taught us that being mean, being tough, was how you survived. It was how you didn't get hurt. You were just doing what you thought you had to do." She squeezed Mal's hand. "But that's not who you are anymore, Mal. Look at everything you've done. You've changed, M. We all have."

Mal looked into Evie's kind, understanding eyes, and a profound sense of relief washed over her. Evie wasn't judging her. She was just... understanding. "But it still haunts me sometimes," Mal confessed, her voice barely a whisper. "That little girl... she was so dark."

Evie smiled, a genuine, comforting smile. "She was. But she grew up. And she became the Mal who fought for us, who brought us here, who wants to help the Isle. That's the Mal I see, M. Always."

Mal took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. "I... I'm so sorry, Evie," she whispered, the words a raw confession. "For everything. For the locket, for making you cry, for being so awful. I know it was the Isle, and we were just kids, but... it wasn't right. And I'm truly sorry."

Evie's smile softened even further. She reached out with her free hand and gently cupped Mal's cheek, her thumb wiping away a tear that had finally escaped. "Oh, M," she murmured, her voice filled with warmth and genuine affection. "There's nothing to forgive. Not anymore. We've been through so much, and we've grown so much. We're family. And family... we forgive each other."

Mal leaned into Evie's touch, a wave of profound relief washing over her. The burden of the past, the shame she had carried for so long, began to lift, replaced by the comforting warmth of Evie's unwavering friendship.