“Want to come to the Isle with us?” Evie says in a cheery tone, leaning over your shoulder and staring down at you expectantly, her inviting attitude making you want to immediately say yes.

Why would she need you? You hadn’t thought about it in the moment. Evie had done so many things for you and you owed her a solid for making your dress for the coronation. She had filled you in in the limo, which she, Ben, Jay, and Carlos had stolen to go to the Isle to bring Mal back, Ben saying they had gotten into, well, a slight fight about the border.

“We just need to find Mal.” Carlos says, wanting to get in and out, not wanting to run into any old acquaintances. Most people on the Isle found them to be traitors. Evie gives a nod, adjusting her blue leather before looking to you. You and Ben were out-of-place royals, of course, but she had made you all fitting outfits like they adorned—looks like you’d probably owe her yet another solid.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Perhaps your disguise hadn’t worked that well, your nimble feet trying to zone out the quickening footsteps behind you and focus on your own ability. Had they looked past it so easily? Was it the way you were running? No—everyone runs the same when they really put their heart into it.

You take a sharp turn into an alley, no idea where it led. Unlike the saying, you did not know the Isle like the back of your hand—how could you? In the past, Auradon made it their hope to shield the royal kids away from the lifestyle. Upon the turn, your shoes skid on the loose gravel, showing the laziness to fix it—or maybe just intended to end chases like this one quicker.

You hadn’t realized that you had run right into a dead end. Of course you had—why wouldn’t you in this situation? You look back at them. There weren’t three. You had a feeling you couldn’t fight them off, but eh, you’d try—you liked this jewelry.

“C’mon, sweetie, give us your valuables.” The middle one says simply, taking a few steps forward, hand extended defiantly—not as inviting as Evie had been when she asked you to come along. You stay quiet. You could blame it on defiance, but you were truthfully a bit frightened.

It only took harsh new footsteps to break your gaze from the hand.

“Well this is a display, isn’t it—” A voice rings out with a laugh, the person it belonged to giving the main man a pat on the shoulder.

“But whatever she has on her is mine, ya remember.” He says, shoving him out of his grip and coming to stand in front of you, glancing you over—maybe for your stature, maybe an understanding you weren’t in any position to fend them off, or maybe just to look at what valuables you did have on you.

But to your surprise, he gives a playful wink, drawing his sword and turning on the heel of his boot lazily to face the group. “If I wer’ ya, which thankfully I’m not—I’d shoo, unless you want to face the wrath of the fearsome Harry Hook.” He says with a nonchalant charm, wagging his sword slightly in his hand to show just how a fight wouldn’t be that big of a deal. And with that, they run—tripping over their feet, sure, but run out of the alley.

Now he... looked slightly more inviting.