Archive of Our Own ^beta

There was something about Mal that didn’t sit right with Belle.

It wasn’t that she never listened, or that she vandalized school property, or even the fact that she was the daughter of Maleficent. 

It was the little things—the way she avoided eye contact, the way she flinched at raised arms and loud voices, the way she always wore the same outfit, no matter the weather, the way she thought of herself as someone, something unworthy of love. 

Ever since she first met the purple haired girl, she felt a spark of concern and a need to keep an eye on her. 

At first she thought it was because she didn’t trust her—and, okay, maybe that had been a part of it—but she soon realized over the years that it was something else. 

The first year with the villain kids in her kingdom had been…strange. 

She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but it was something along the lines of chaos. 

Instead, however, the teenagers had actually relatively followed the rules set in place by Belle and Adam. 

Sure, there were some moments when they acted like, well, villains, but for the most part they behaved. 

They all had their quirks, of course; Jay was extremely aggressive, especially when something or someone came in between him and his friends. Carlos was terrified of dogs, in a way that was honestly kind of concerning. Evie was..well, she wasn’t sure about Evie—for the most part, she seemed to be the most docile member of the group, but there were moments where she was even angrier than Jay(and had sent Chad to the hospital, but she’d think about that more later). 

And then there was Mal. 

Mal was…quiet. 

Oddly quiet, but, from what she’s seen, only when around adults.

Any time she sees an adult, she just…shuts down. 

She’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, perfectly silent. 

It was as if she was trying to make herself invisible.

Around her friends, however, she was an entirely different person—she was the ringleader, the one who had the ideas and the courage to act on them.

The more Belle observed the girl, the more she felt the urge to understand her. 

But she just…she didn’t know how. 

How was she supposed to understand someone who wouldn’t speak to her?

How was she supposed to understand someone who wouldn’t even look in her direction?

Belle knew that Mal was hurting—the walls she had built around herself were as clear as the glass slippers Cinderella had donated to the museum. 

But breaking them down was like trying to make a blind man see the sunset. 

Every time she tried to reach out, Mal would retreat further, her eyes flashing with something akin to fear before she’d put on a mask of indifference and walk away. 

It was frustrating, but she knew that pushing too hard would only make things worse.

So, she waited. 

She waited and she watched and she listened. 

She watched Mal from afar, studying her interactions with other students, with her friends, with Ben. 

She watched the way she would sometimes disappear during lunch and free periods, escaping to her dorm room, or the library, or the enchanted lake. 

Belle knew she had to tread carefully, but she couldn’t ignore the whispers of her heart that grew louder with each passing day.

About two and a half years after the villain kids had originally arrived in Auradon, something in the school shifted. 

Chad and Audrey had never been the nicest people, but Ben never knew they could be anything other than just annoying. 

One afternoon, as the prince walked through the school halls, he overheard Chad’s voice.

“Why don’t you just go back to the isle, you little freak?”

He followed the sound to the courtyard, his stomach dropping. 

There, he found Mal backed against the wall, her emerald eyes glaring with a fiery mix of anger and fear.

Audrey stood by Chad's side, a smug smile painted on her face as she tossed a strand of blonde hair over her shoulder.

"You're just a mistake," Chad sneered, "Someone your mother couldn't get rid of. Why don't you just disappear?"

The air was thick with hostility as Chad took a step closer to Mal, his face twisted into an ugly sneer. 

Audrey hovered by his side, her eyes gleaming with malicious amusement as she watched the scene unfold. 

Mal's back was pressed against the wall, her fists clenched at her sides. 

But despite the anger shown on her face, she didn’t act—she didn’t say or do anything, staying perfectly still and silent.

Ben ran out into the clearing just as Chad's hand shot out to hit Mal’s face. 

The purple-haired girl flinched, bracing herself for the impact that never came. 

Instead, she found herself staring at the stunned faces of her tormentors as the air was filled with a sudden, heavy silence. 

Ben stepped in front of her, his own anger palpable.

He snarled, baring his teeth. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Chad and Audrey took a step back, hands raised. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” the blond boy said. “Chill, Ben, it was just a joke,”

He growled, taking a step closer to them, his eyes glowing bright yellow. 

“Just a joke? Just a joke? Do you know what she’s been through? Do you have any idea how hard she’s had it? Do you have ANY IDEA WHAT I’M GOING TO DO TO YOU??”

In the end, Ben, unfortunately, wasn’t the one who had the satisfaction of ripping the two to shreds—and, also unfortunately, that wasn’t literal. 

Instead it was Evie who broke Chad’s leg. 

It was Evie who smashed a mirror on Audrey’s arm. 

And it was Evie who sent them both to the hospital. 

(Ben did get a few hits in, though, which was good enough for him.)

“So,” Adam began. “Who would like to explain to me why Audrey and Chad are in the hospital?”

Mal shrunk back, huddling close to Evie. 

The blue haired girl put a protective arm around her, shooting the king a glare. 

“They had it coming,” she hissed. 

Belle sighed, punching the bridge of her nose. “Ben?” 

Mal glanced at the prince, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Well, uh,” he stuttered, eyes darting to Mal. “They, um, did definitely have it coming,”

Jay raised his hand and didn’t wait to be acknowledged. “In their defense, they were being assholes to Mal,” 

The queen’s gaze was directed towards the girl, her expression soft. 

No, Mal thought. It’s a trick. 

“S-sorry..” she murmured, burrowing her face in Evie’s hair. 

Belle was concerned. 

Very incredibly concerned. 

“Mal,” she said softly, “can I speak to you alone for a moment?”

All four of the villain kids tensed. 

Evie’s eyes narrowed, Jay moved closer to the girl, and Carlos bared his teeth. 

“No,” Evie hissed, her voice low. 

“..excuse me?”

“No, you can’t speak to her alone,” the blue haired teen repeated, arms wrapped around her friend.

“Evie, i-it’s fine,” Mal muttered, slipping out of her grip and standing up. 

Mal took a deep breath and followed Belle out of the room, her friends' worried gazes burning into her back.

The hallway was quieter than she had ever heard it, the whispers of the castle walls seemingly hushed as they made their way to a small study.

Mal’s stomach was a storm of nerves, twisting and turning as she tried to anticipate what was going to happen next.

Belle closed the door behind them, the gentle click echoing through the small room.

Mal’s eyes darted around, searching for an escape route or something to break the tension.

“Mal, please sit down,” Belle said gently, gesturing to a chair by the desk.

The girl’s eyes searched hers, looking for any hint of malice or deception, but all she saw was concern.

Mal knew better than to trust the façade of kindness—it was a trap, a trick her mother had taught her well.

Her hands trembled as she sat down, her eyes never leaving Belle’s.

The queen’s gaze was unwavering, but it wasn’t filled with anger or spite—it was filled with something else—something Mal couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Was it the way Belle’s eyes searched hers? 

Or the softness in her voice that seemed almost...fake?

Whatever it was, Mal was certain that this was a trap.

Belle’s smile was too warm, too inviting. 

It was like stepping into a room that looked comfortable and cozy, only to realize it was a cage with a false bottom.

“Look, Mal,” she began, her voice soothing. “I know things have been tough for you here.”

Tough? That was the understatement of the century. 

Mal’s eyes narrowed, watching the woman in front of her like a hawk.

“Tough?” she repeated, her voice laced with venom. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Belle raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. “What do you mean, Mal?”

Mal’s eyes remained locked on hers, her body tense and ready to fight or flee. 

“You’re trying to get me to open up, to make me vulnerable. It’s just like what they do—what everyone does. You’re going to use it against me.”

Belle’s expression was a mix of surprise and sadness. 

“I would never do that to you, Mal. I’m here to help, not hurt you,” she assured her, taking a seat opposite the chair.

Mal’s eyes widened as she realized what she’d done. 

“S-sorry,” she muttered. “S-sorry, I-i didn’t-I didn’t m-mean it, I-i swear,”

Her breath hitched as Belle tilted her head to the side in confusion. 

The queen reached out to her, only for her to instinctively flinch away, falling out of the chair. 

“S-sorry, sorry, sorry-” she repeated, scrambling backwards until her back hit the wall, irritating her scars. 

That was the second time Belle recognized the signs. 

The first time had been years ago with her friend Ella, when she’d first met her step mother and seen how terribly she was treated. 

And now with Mal. 

And in that moment she truly knew how much of a monster Maleficent was.