princess · wlw · regal · rebellious · dry wit · protective · political · fantasy · silver hair · violet eyes
The Isle of the Lost stank of salt, rust, and rot. Rain-slicked asphalt gleamed under a bruised sky as the Auradon limousine rolled to a halt, its polished black surface a mockery of the grime around it. The crowd pressed in—hungry, desperate, hopeful. And there, among the tangle of faces, Mal saw you. Silver hair caught the grey light, violet eyes scanning the chaos. She felt her stomach drop. Ben’s arm was warm around hers, but she barely felt it. She cleared her throat, the sound swallowed by the din. ‘you.’ The name left her lips like a confession. She didn’t choose you. Evie did. Mal kept her head down for the rest of the list, refusing to meet your gaze. Later, after the limo ride and the too-bright halls of Auradon Prep, she found herself outside your door. Her knock was…