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refused2berescuedTaking the true shape of a sea-witch was the most exhilerating experience of Uma's life. Instead of legs, she had tentacles, six of them because of animation constraints on The Little Mermaid, and her body practically hummed with magic. Her mother's necklace glowed with power for the first time in twenty years, free from the shackles of the Isle. Uma was huge, body the size of the cruise ship they were having the cotillion on, and the length of the tentacles made her larger still. She laughed, feeling powerful, feeling invincible, and even Mal's transformation into a dragon couldn't put a damper on her spirits.
Poor Mal. Sure, she was breathing fire, but Uma was in water. And Mal was aloft in the air, an element that didn't belong to her. And, again, Uma was in the water. She'd never felt quite so at home as she did right now, each droplet welcoming her almost by name.
She was magic. She was power. And she was winning.
And then suddenly Ben was talking--yelling, really, to be heard over the roar of the surf--and of his currently-reptilian girlfriend. Uma didn't want to listen--tried not to listen--just wanted to battle Mal and show her once and for all that she wasn't someone she could abuse just for the hell of it.
"This has got to stop!" Ben shouted. "It's not the answer! The fighting's got to stop! Nobody wins this way!"
Actually, Uma was pretty sure she was about to win this way.
"We have to listen! And respect each other!" Mal and Uma's eyes met, a sick poisonous green meeting cold brown. Respect? Each other? Not likely. "It won't be easy! But let's be brave enough to try!"
"Uma!" He called her name, bringing her attention back down to him. He looked so small there, in the water. So fragile. Hundreds of times smaller than either of them, but still trying to make them listen. "I know you want what is best for the Isle. Help me make a difference!"
He held his hand out to her in supplication. Begging her to give him a chance, to work together to fix all the injustices that the people of the Isle--villains and their kids alike--saw daily. Uma thought about it--and then Mal roared, dragging her attention away from Ben. She looked at Mal, then over at the other kids, crowding the edge of the ship. She saw fear in their faces, contempt, even pity. But none of them wanted to work with her. They just wanted their precious king and his half-fairy girlfriend to be okay.
She was the same size she'd been just moments ago, but suddenly Uma felt very small. Shrimpy. Oh, how Mal would laugh to know that. She lifted a tentacle, sending it speeding towards Ben, heard the collected gasp of everyone onboard the ship. But she didn't attack. Instead, she dropped the ring he'd given her into his outstretched palm. And then she turned away and slid into the ocean, where no one would be able to tell the difference between tears and sea water.
Maybe Ben thought he was offering her a chance. But Uma knew a sucker's bet when she saw one. She would find her own way to save the Isle because she was the only one she could trust.
***
All the magic she'd done tonight--swimming from the Isle all the way to Auradon, transforming her hair and clothing to look like a real Auradon lady, casting the love spell on Ben, turning into a huge version of her sea witch form, whatever it was caused, battling Mal--took its toll on her. She was no more than halfway back when the clock struck midnight on the spell and she turned back to regular old Uma, short, two-legged, her usual clothing. The sea lost its love for her, too, turning bitterly cold, making every stroke a chore that made aching muscle scream. Exhausted, she found a bit of driftwood and clung to it. She'd rest for a few minutes and then get back to the Isle, figure out how to get back through the ward, try to find words to let her crew know how deeply she'd let them down.
A short rest became true sleep, the kind even cold water couldn't rouse her from, and Uma bobbed along for hours, the wave and the tides directing her away from the Isle, away from Auradon, and somewhere far stranger than either.
***
It was already morning when Uma finally woke up, washed up on the beach like sea foam. The tide had gone out, leaving her mostly dry and covered with sand. She had no idea where she was, save 'not the Isle of the Lost.' The air was too clean, the sky too clear, the sun too golden to be on the Isle. She must have been washed away to some part of Auradon, but she couldn't figure out which. Somewhere near Cinderella's castle, maybe? Or Aurora's forest? Either way, she couldn't exactly stay here, where there was nothing to eat but sand and nothing to drink but sea water.
She needed food, hungry enough that even Wet Rot or Offal from her mother's specials board sounded good. And water, too, her lips were cracked and salty. A chance to rest and recover would also be nice, but Uma didn't believe in pushing her luck too far. She'd bespelled the King and attacked the whole court on live TV, the first wandering woodcutter to find her would probably call for the guards and have her arrested on sight.
Her best bet was to find some kind of civilization, steal what she needed, and then get out of there and back to her crew. It wasn't the best plan, but it was the only one she had, so...guess it had to do.
With a sigh for the pound of sand that had made its way into her boots already, Uma started walking.
[Establishy! But better late than never?]
Poor Mal. Sure, she was breathing fire, but Uma was in water. And Mal was aloft in the air, an element that didn't belong to her. And, again, Uma was in the water. She'd never felt quite so at home as she did right now, each droplet welcoming her almost by name.
She was magic. She was power. And she was winning.
And then suddenly Ben was talking--yelling, really, to be heard over the roar of the surf--and of his currently-reptilian girlfriend. Uma didn't want to listen--tried not to listen--just wanted to battle Mal and show her once and for all that she wasn't someone she could abuse just for the hell of it.
"This has got to stop!" Ben shouted. "It's not the answer! The fighting's got to stop! Nobody wins this way!"
Actually, Uma was pretty sure she was about to win this way.
"We have to listen! And respect each other!" Mal and Uma's eyes met, a sick poisonous green meeting cold brown. Respect? Each other? Not likely. "It won't be easy! But let's be brave enough to try!"
"Uma!" He called her name, bringing her attention back down to him. He looked so small there, in the water. So fragile. Hundreds of times smaller than either of them, but still trying to make them listen. "I know you want what is best for the Isle. Help me make a difference!"
He held his hand out to her in supplication. Begging her to give him a chance, to work together to fix all the injustices that the people of the Isle--villains and their kids alike--saw daily. Uma thought about it--and then Mal roared, dragging her attention away from Ben. She looked at Mal, then over at the other kids, crowding the edge of the ship. She saw fear in their faces, contempt, even pity. But none of them wanted to work with her. They just wanted their precious king and his half-fairy girlfriend to be okay.
She was the same size she'd been just moments ago, but suddenly Uma felt very small. Shrimpy. Oh, how Mal would laugh to know that. She lifted a tentacle, sending it speeding towards Ben, heard the collected gasp of everyone onboard the ship. But she didn't attack. Instead, she dropped the ring he'd given her into his outstretched palm. And then she turned away and slid into the ocean, where no one would be able to tell the difference between tears and sea water.
Maybe Ben thought he was offering her a chance. But Uma knew a sucker's bet when she saw one. She would find her own way to save the Isle because she was the only one she could trust.
All the magic she'd done tonight--swimming from the Isle all the way to Auradon, transforming her hair and clothing to look like a real Auradon lady, casting the love spell on Ben, turning into a huge version of her sea witch form, whatever it was caused, battling Mal--took its toll on her. She was no more than halfway back when the clock struck midnight on the spell and she turned back to regular old Uma, short, two-legged, her usual clothing. The sea lost its love for her, too, turning bitterly cold, making every stroke a chore that made aching muscle scream. Exhausted, she found a bit of driftwood and clung to it. She'd rest for a few minutes and then get back to the Isle, figure out how to get back through the ward, try to find words to let her crew know how deeply she'd let them down.
A short rest became true sleep, the kind even cold water couldn't rouse her from, and Uma bobbed along for hours, the wave and the tides directing her away from the Isle, away from Auradon, and somewhere far stranger than either.
It was already morning when Uma finally woke up, washed up on the beach like sea foam. The tide had gone out, leaving her mostly dry and covered with sand. She had no idea where she was, save 'not the Isle of the Lost.' The air was too clean, the sky too clear, the sun too golden to be on the Isle. She must have been washed away to some part of Auradon, but she couldn't figure out which. Somewhere near Cinderella's castle, maybe? Or Aurora's forest? Either way, she couldn't exactly stay here, where there was nothing to eat but sand and nothing to drink but sea water.
She needed food, hungry enough that even Wet Rot or Offal from her mother's specials board sounded good. And water, too, her lips were cracked and salty. A chance to rest and recover would also be nice, but Uma didn't believe in pushing her luck too far. She'd bespelled the King and attacked the whole court on live TV, the first wandering woodcutter to find her would probably call for the guards and have her arrested on sight.
Her best bet was to find some kind of civilization, steal what she needed, and then get out of there and back to her crew. It wasn't the best plan, but it was the only one she had, so...guess it had to do.
With a sigh for the pound of sand that had made its way into her boots already, Uma started walking.
[Establishy! But better late than never?]
