Left Behind - Descendants (♡Jay)

Chapter 29

Myra was standing on the highest building of the Isle. Her short, green hair moving in the strong wind. The girl was looking out over the waters surrounding the Island. The prison she and her friends had been stuck in for their entire lives. And now it was just her and the baby rat inside her pocket.
     Tears stung in her eyes as she remembered watching the four leave without her, the day they had promised to come back for her, but it had been weeks and they still weren't back. She had followed everything that had happened at Ben's coronation and had been so happy when the barrier had broken down. She had rushed to the bridge, waiting for her gang to come and get her. Others had gathered as well. People who hadn't been able to use their magic in years were trying to again. Maleficent had turned into a dragon and flown away; Dr. Facilier could be seen trying to summon his "friends" from the other side; Hades' hair was fully aflame as he angrily paced around the cliffs, seemingly still trying to determine the best way to get away without falling into the water. 
     Myra didn't have to be on the other side of the Isle to know that Captain Hook was trying to get his ship sea-ready. Probably with his son, Harry and Smee and his twin sons. And she wouldn't be surprised if Ursula had already abandoned her daughter and jumped into the ocean. 
     Unfortunately the barrier appeared again, as a golden curtain separating the Isle from the rest of the world. Myra still hadn't left her spot, looking out into the horizon where she could see the towers of Auradon's Castle. She wasn't sure why she had waited out there for so long- hope, maybe- but now it was clear to her that they weren't coming. Her hand reached to turn her silver ring around her finger, only to find it not to be there. Of course it wasn't there. Jay took it when they left. He had exchanged it for a miniature crown that she had used to buy medicine for her father and a quick brush of his lips against hers. It hadn't been enough. 
      "There you are, my dearest daughter." A rather high pitched voice spoke out of nowhere. Startled, Myra turned around to see non other than her father, as always wearing his big cloak that was made out of so many different fabrics and colors as he could find, orange and purple striped tights and a green, puffy sleeved shirt that reached just a little above his knees, held together by a brown leather belt around his stomach. Of course his magical flute hung from his belt inside it's own brown bag. That same belt had been around Myra's waist since the day he had died.
     "Dad, you shouldn't be here." The girl said, looking in the man's eyes. Unlike his daughter, who had two beautiful, forest green eyes, the Pied Piper's eyes were different colored. His left eye was a deep yellow, while his right was such a dark green it was hard to tell the difference between his pupil and his iris.
     "Don't worry about your father, he's able to keep his head above the water." Immediately after he said that he started coughing. Myra sighed deep, glaring at her father's pale face. When he finally stopped coughing she could have sworn she saw him wipe away some drops of blood. The man himself didn't seem to care, instead, he made his way over to his daughter, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and looked out over the water with her. For a very long time there was silence between the two, until Myra broke it. 
     "They aren't coming, are they?" 
     Her father hummed in response, not of confirmation or in disagreement, just a low hum. "They may be coming or they may not, but maybe they may be here in May and maybe they may not come in May. So there may be a day in May they may be here again. But the chance that may-be day in May actually may be, is maybe just as big as me reaching the end of May."
     Myra frowned, "It's October."
     "Mayhaps." 
     "You're not making sense again." The girl mumbled to herself, not wanting her father to hear her. He ment well, she knew that. Her father always had a way of saying the right thing, most of the time something that would get him what he wanted or to get away with something a normal villain wouldn't get away with. But the more his illness took over the less sense his words made to her and the others around them. Myra still remembered it so very clearly, how her father went from this energetic, mischievousness, short fused man to that silent, not caring about anything, lump on the in colors covered stone bed. Getting paler and paler with every day. His eyes loosing it's life and falling in, dark circles around them; his body loosing so much weight that she could see his bones. Every movement made her fear they would break like a toothpick, splintering inside of his paper thin skin, ripping it further open with every move. 
     In the end that didn't happen. No. He didn't die from his toothpick like bones or his fragile skin; or of Myra's ability to get him the medicine he needed. But because of his heart giving in. Myra had been yelling at him when it happened. He had just told her about Hades owning her soul and she did not take it well. 
     That's when she realized that she wasn't really back on the Isle and her father wasn't really standing beside her. This moment had really happened before, she remembered now. In real life she had brought him home and nursed him. Not this time. 
     Myra pushed herself away from her father and stood in front of him, her grey cloak softly fluttering in the wind. "Why did you do it?" She asked in a steady voice. 
     "No, no, no, no." The Pied Piper growled, staring passed his daughter to look at the dark waves. "Mirabella, no. That is not how this goes." Myra frowned at him. "But I suppose that's something she already knows..."  His voice had shot up a few octaves as he said the second sentence. "Ow, yesss. She already knows." He slowly turned his head until his eyes had found hers, eyes dull and fallen in as she remembered them being right before he died. 
     "Why did you sell my soul to Hades?" 
     The Pied Piper shot around his daughter- moving faster than she could remember him ever being capable off- "The flute, the flute. She knows it was all about the flute." He jumped on the edge of the building. "Not good. Not good." He stopped talking as he knelt down on the edge. 
     "Yes! Yes, I know about the flute!" Myra snarled, turning to keep her eyes on her father. "It's always about that stupid flute!" The girl took a deep breath before continuing calmer. "I want to know why this flute was worth the soul of your first born child." 
     "Child? No. No children. Never children. Drown them, drown the children. No payment, no children. Children are payment. Payment as children." 
     "Dad!" Myra snapped at him. This did get him to turn on his feet without getting up. He just turned around, cape flapping behind him, disappearing down the wall. He pointed at Myra, wide eyes fixed on her with that slightly crazed looked in them. Now Myra could see his yellow iris started to change color, switching to green just like his green eye started to fade into a shining yellow.
     "Child!" He called back as if he had discovered the biggest secret in the world. "My child. Mirabella. My Mirabella!" He spoke fast as he slid down the edge and walked to her, letting his one gloved and one glove-less hand go through her hair. Somehow her hair was long again, it's natural blond color with green streaks. Just like her clothes had gone back to her current style, brown corset and green long coat. Even the belt was around her waist and the flute hung by her side. "Beautiful. Ow, so pretty, Mirabella." 
     "Stop that!" Myra slapped her father's hands away, startling him. "You don't get to do that! How could you? How could you sell your child like a slave! I wasn't even born yet and you already used me to get what you wanted. And now you are gone and I have to listen to this idiot of a fallen God, who apparently needs to buy children since his real daughter hates him- I just don't understand what is so fucking special about that piece of wood that it's more worthy of you than I am!" She was angry and hurt about everything. She had always counted herself somewhat lucky with her father. He had never been as cruel to her growing up as her friends' parents had been. He hadn't treated her as a slave as Cruella had with Carlos; or Ursula with Uma; or Lady Tremaine with Dizzy. And he had never forced his agenda on her as Maleficent had done with Mal. Neither had he belittled her on looks like Evie's mother had done with her. But when he had told her he had sold her to the most evil man she knew for a flute all the good things had fallen away.
     "Didn't I deserve to be loved by my father?" The question was a whisper, her voice trembling.
     There was no reaction from the Pied Piper. His eyes only shot from left to right, taking in Myra's hard eyes and body that was trembling with anger.
     Myra scoffed and rolled her eyes, partly out of irritation and partly to force the welled up tears away. "Of course not. You're a villain. Just like the others. You are incapable of loving anything else than power and yourself." 
     "I loved...." The Pied Piper said, taking a hold on Myra's upper arms, forcing her to look him in his eyes. His voice was lower, serious. Something that took Myra off guard. He hadn't sounded that way, not since she had been a child. "I only ever loved you." 
     "But it wasn't enough." Myra answered. She knew this wasn't reality, whatever it was. Her father never talked like that, not without rhyming or confusing phrasing, but she didn't care.
     "I didn't know I could love something more than power, more than myself. Until I was holding you. The smallest thing I'd ever seen."
     Tears started to run down the young woman's face. "You don't mean that. You aren't real. This isn't really happening." 
     The Piper smiled at his daughter, "of course this isn't real. The real reality is not really the reality this reality is really real in. But realness is really just reality in somebody's own reconstruction of their own recreation of reality. So in my reality- if not your reality- real is really not real, while real might be really real in my reality's realness. So really my real and your real both are and are not really real. Even though you are real and I really am not real, doesn't really mean I'm not really saying the real things from my reality- being not really your reality- but that really doesn't mean it really isn't your real realization of reality."
     Myra let out a short chuckle. "That didn't make sense." Her father's smile widened before he bend down and placed a kiss on her forehead. 
     The rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, attracting their attention. "The fallen princess is coming for you." The Pied Piper mumbled in a high and wary tone, unsettling his daughter. Myra turned her gaze back to her father, but before she could even as much as form the word "what" on her lips, he had pushed her away from him, right at the moment that a bold of pink lightning shot down from the clouds. Striking Myra and turning her world black.