Thorn and Ember

·. 𝒮𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝑔𝒹𝑜𝓂𝓈 ·.

THE SKIES WERE heavy with clouds, the wind carrying a sense of finality as the villains were marched through the enchanted gate, one by one. Maleficent walked beside Hades, her face impassive, though her mind swirled with thoughts she refused to give voice to. The magical barrier loomed ahead, shimmering with a cold, blue light that seemed to mock the power they once held. 

"Nice place, huh?" Hades' voice was low, his usual sarcastic edge softened by something she hadn't heard before. Unease. 

Maleficent didn't answer, her hand brushing against the swell of her stomach. She was six months pregnant, and though she hadn't shown it, the thought of raising a child on this barren rock terrified her. She stared straight ahead, her eyes narrowing as they approached the barrier. 

Hades glanced down at her. "Hey. It'll be fine. We've handled worse, right?" 

She gave him a sidelong glance, her voice dry. "And what exactly do you propose we do when we're stuck here? Raise her on villainy and scraps?" 

"We're villains, Mal. It's kind of our thing," he smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. 

She bit back a retort, her lips tightening into a thin line. She wasn't in the mood for his banter. Not today. Not when they were about to be locked away for the rest of their lives, with their child destined to be raised in a cage. 

As they passed through the barrier, a sharp chill spread over her skin, and the realization of what was happening hit her full force. This was it. This island was their future. 

·.༄࿔

Months passed, the days blurring into a monotonous cycle. The villains had carved out a semblance of life on the island, their powers dampened by the barrier but not completely gone. Evil magic never worked on the island but Hades, ever the restless soul, had taken to building small fires and creating bursts of magic when he thought no one was watching. Maleficent watched him from the doorway of their crude home, her hand resting on her belly, feeling the child kick within her.

They had managed, somehow. The island was harsh, but they had each other. And for a time, that was enough. 

Hades had even tried to make their exile feel less like a prison. He would use his magic to conjure small gifts—flowers that never withered, a bracelet woven from dark flames, little tokens to remind her that he still cared, even in the midst of their growing distance. 

But no matter how hard they tried to pretend, the weight of their confinement lingered over them like a shadow. 

The night Mal was born, a soft rain pattered against the thatched roof of their home. The labor had been long and exhausting, but when the baby finally came into the world, her cries pierced the silence of the island, a sound that felt both like a beginning and an end. 

Hades stood beside the bed, his face lit by the flickering light of the small fire he had summoned. He gazed down at the tiny figure in his arms—dark hair, pale skin, and eyes that gleamed with a spark of something familiar. 

"She's beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough with awe. 

Maleficent, exhausted but filled with a warmth she hadn't felt in months, smiled weakly. "She's ours." 

Hades sat beside her, holding their daughter as if she were the most precious thing in the world. "So, Mal Bertha, huh?" He gave her a crooked grin. "Got to say, I didn't think you'd actually go for it." 

"Part of me liked the name," she admitted, brushing a hand over her daughter's cheek. "It's... fitting." 

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the three of them. Despite everything—their exile, the isolation—this felt like hope. They were a family, and for the first time since arriving on the island, Maleficent allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work.