(TRIGGER WARNING - physical and mental child abuse)
"WHAT WAS THAT?!"
"Nothing, Mother," Evie called in a sing-song voice as she scrambled to pick up the dresser she had accidentally knocked over in one of that many large hallways of the castle and refill it with the contents that had fallen out in the process.
The twelve-year-old shook her head in confusion as she did, not knowing why one woman required so many old dresses that didn't even fit her anymore. Once when Evie has suggested that she alter the dresses to fit her mother now, she had received quite the beating and a screeching from the former queen who took the offer as an accusation that she had let herself go. Despite how true it may be, it was not something you said to the Evil Queen, or in Evie's case, accidentally implied it.
However, the brown-eyed girl had paused, tilting her head as she game across an article of clothing that clearly wasn't her mother's—a man's scarf.
Evie furrowed her brows in confusion as the looked at the scarf. It was green, moth-eaten, and large. It was definitely not hers or her mother's. It was a pretty big assumption that it was her father's considering that Evie was conceived from a one-night stand that her mother always refuses to talk about since her daughter was one born out of wedlock—not a good image for a queen.
The scarf did look rather old and Evie didn't know why her mother would keep something from a random hook-up that was never heard from again. She slowly folded the scarf in her hands as she felt her desire for answers overcome her fear of requesting them from her mom.
She worked up her courage as she approached and hesitantly knocked on her mother's bedroom door.
"Come in," the Evil Queen called.
Evie sucked in a breath and walked in slowly and shut the door. As she entered, she was unsurprised upon seeing what her mother was doing—applying makeup at the vanity, as usual. She didn't really blame her. There wasn't much for one to keep themselves occupied with on the Isle of the Lost, let alone an abandoned castle on an isolated part of the island, never to show their face outside it again due to their banishment by Maleficent.
"What is it, Evie?" the woman asked absentmindedly as she was examining her face in the mirror to see if she was finally successful in concealing that annoying little wrinkle above her chin.
Evie softly gulped as she tried to retain eye contact and keep her posture straight. "W-... See- I- um," the princess was mumbling, unable to form the words.
"Words, Evelyn."
"Did this belong to my father?" she asked in a more blunt tone than she had intended it to come out as she held out the scarf she had found moments ago.
Grimhilde places the blush down on the vanity hard, making Evie flinch slightly. However, the young girl remained perfectly still as her mother arose for her seating position and looked away from the mirror.
"I thought we've established in the past that this is not a topic of discussion in this household," the former queen said in a cold tone, placing a hand on her hip and another on the frame of the chair she was sitting on.
"I remember," the twelve-year-old said, standing her ground. "But I found this scarf in one the drawers and it got me thinking about why I've never met my father... or if he even knows I exist."
"Are you sure that is not some pathetic excuse you've come up with because these thoughts have arisen due to what day it is?"
"'Day'?"
"Father's Day," the Evil Queen said, not convinced of her daughter's ignorance. "And let me be clear, Evie. The scoundrel who contributed to your existence does not exist to neither you or me-"
"But what if I exist to him? What would he think if he knew he had a daughter?" Evie raised an eyebrow, as if actually daring to challenge her mother.
Clearly not the right choice. Proven as Evie was taken off-guard by a slap to the face.
The young girl sucked in a gasp, knowing she should have seen that coming.
Grimhilde ranted as she grabbed Evie by her hair and began forcibly dragging her to the castle dungeon. "Perhaps if you did have a father, he would do a better job at teaching you respect and obedience than I have, you ungrateful brat. But fortunately, you will have better luck with men than I did as you will marry a prince and I alone will reap the benefits! You think you can escape me, you pathetic bastard?" she seethed as she opened the nearest cell door and threw Evie inside.
The young girl fell in with a grunt, breathing heavily as she was clutching her face which was still stinging from the slap. "Mother, I swear, I wasn't trying to-"
"You belong to me, Evelyn," the former queen growled as she closed the cell door and locked it. "And no father of yours will take you from me," she scoffed.
Evie looked up and resisted the urge to sob. It was unladylike and the last thing she wanted to do was dig herself in a deeper hole with her mother as she already didn't know how long she would be staying in the dungeon.
"And do you know why, Evelyn?"
Evie shook her head.
The Evil Queen gave a smug smile. "Because your father does know you exist."
Evie felt a pang in her chest. No, she's lying. She has to be.
"I wrote to him when I found out I was pregnant so we could marry. But, he was in the process of being removed from this wretched island and he claimed he didn't need any link to it when he returned to his wife. He was some two-bit thief that was originally sent here but was taken off a few years later when his wife vouched that he belonged on the 'heroes' side of the barrier because he stole from the rich to give to the poor," she mocked.
Evie began to frantically shake her head in denial. A parent couldn't just not want their child, could they? Was Evie really that worthless that nobody wanted her?
The Evil Queen, satisfied with her mental damage she'd done to her daughter, left the dungeon, leaving the young girl who could no longer stop the tears from flowing out of her eyes and falling—falling on the scarf she didn't realize she was still holding.
Her sadness turned to anger as she crumpled the scarf in her hands and threw it against the bars of the dungeon. She sat back against the wall and hugged her knees and rocked herself back and forth as she repeated her mother's words in her head. Despite how adept Grimhilde was at manipulation, Evie knew somehow that she was telling the truth. Her father knew about her and didn't want her. Nobody would protect her from her mother. It was father's day, and she was fatherless.
———————————————
"Ha ha ha ha," Mal gave a victory laugh as she made out with the third piece of 'candy' she snatched from a toddler that day. "Just too easy," she shook her head in amusement as she looked down at the sticky, unwrapped piece of hard candy before popping it into her mouth in satisfaction.
"Nice one, Mali!"
Mal jumped as she turned around to find a six-year-old boy with electric blue-colored hair leaning over a railing, grinning up at her with fondness.
"What the hell did you just call me, Baby Blue Blaze?" The purple-haired twelve-year-old turned to the boy with a threatening tone to her voice.
The boy turned on his heels and ran in the other direction, causing Mal to scoff as she turned and went the opposite direction. She kept walking towards her destination, subtly looking behind her every so often to ensure she wasn't being tailed until she slipped into an empty alleyway to come face-to-face with the boy from earlier.
"Hadie!" Mal exclaimed with a disapproving yet soft tone. "What did I tell you about calling me that in public?"
"I'm sorry." The son of Hades looked down. "I just got excited. It was the first time I've seen you in weeks."
"You should have reached out and told me you wanted to see me. I would have saved a piece of candy for you!" She sat down next to the kid on the sidewalk.
They had set that alleyway up as a meeting place to avoid the Isle's prying eyes. If anybody knew the true relation between the daughter of Maleficent and the son of Hades, it would not go over well for the two children.
"So, how's things at home? Your dad treating you okay?" Mal asked.
Hadie nodded as he looked at Mal with a raised eyebrow.
"What?"
"Ask me what you really wanna know," Hadie said, turning away.
"Excuse me?" Mal had a look of 'confusion' on her face.
Hadie sighed and looked back at her with an annoyed expression. "You wanna know how Dad is."
"No, I don't!"
"Do to!"
"Do NOT!"
Hadie gave up before laying his chin on his knee. "...Do to."
"Hadie!"
Hadie frowned. "You can pretend to hate him all you want, Mali. But you care about him. As much as you care about me. You don't have to hide it. He's your dad!"
"Shh!" Mal's eyes widened. "Lower your voice. I know we're not out on the open, but still. You need to learn subtlety."
"You know, it's almost as annoying as Dad's pestering-'not-pestering' about how you are when I see you," Hadie groaned, ignoring Mal's last statement.
"You tell your dad about meeting me?"
Hadie paused and put an innocent look on his face. "...Maybe."
"I thought I told you never to tell anybody—especially not your dad!"
"Why do you call him that? He's your dad, too."
Mal facepalmed. There was just no hope for this child. "Yeah, Hadie. He is my dad. My dad who abandoned me when I was a literal baby and left me with Maleficent without so much as a backwards glance."
"That is not true! He feels sorry about that. He just doesn't like to show it!" Hadie stated.
Mal scoffed. "Really? You know, if you hadn't had stolen your dad's ember last year, I wouldn't even know that he was my father, or that you were my brother."
Up until the daughter of Maleficent was eleven-years-old, she had been told that her father was a 'weak human' who was long-dead. When one day, a five-year-old Hadie had sneakily stolen his father's ember, Mal tried to snatch it from him, thinking it was a piece of candy at first glance. When she touched it, she couldn't actually do any sort of magic with the ember. After all, even Hades himself couldn't because of the barrier, but it began to glow, which could only have meant one thing—Mal was of the God of the Dead's bloodline.
She confronted Hades about the glowing ember and the god spilled the beans. Nothing could describe the betrayal Mal felt at the moment, from her father at abandoning her and her mother for lying to her. So, she threw the ember in Hades's face and stormed out of his home.
But Hadie watched the whole thing, followed her, and badgered her the entire day, and Mal had to admit, the kid grew on her. So, her half-brother was the only member of her family she could actually tolerate, or dare she say, care about.
Though if Mistress of Evil found out Mal knew about her father, let alone had any connection to him, it would be her, Hadie, and Hades' heads. It didn't matter if the god was more powerful that the faery—under the barrier, Maleficent held all the authority, and one couldn't exactly challenge her with all the minions she had at her disposal. So, the children of Hades set up a meeting place to spend time with each other freely.
"...It's Father's Day today, you know," Hadie said with his eyes down.
Mal eyed the boy. "That's a thing?"
"Mm hm."
"Well, go spend time with your dad," Mal made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "He's probably wondering where you are."
Hadie rushed up and stole a quick hug from Mal who frowned before she could react, and ran towards his home, to his father.
Mal sighed as she watched the child's retreating figure. Why couldn't she be able to celebrate Father's Day with her dad? Why did she have to be the one to spend it on an alleyway sidewalk all alone, knowing she would go home to a woman who would be caught dead before showing any ardor at being a mother. She secretly envied her half-brother with his relationship with their father. Hades gave love and attention towards his son. He was nothing like Maleficent to Hadie. If he was, Mal wouldn't give a crap about the fact that he was a god—she would see to it that the Underworld would need a new ruler, and she just happened to be his firstborn heir.
The young girl got up to make her way to Bargain Castle. On her way there, however, she came across Jafar's Junk Shop.
She reluctantly walked inside to find her oldest and only friend- uh, ally—friendship didn't exist on the island of villains—manning the cash register.
"Hey, Jay," she greeted half-heartedly.
"What's up?" the son of Jafar asked, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in Mal's greeting.
"Nothing. Just uh- came by to see if you had anything new, that's all."
"Well, it appears to be your lucky day. This just so happened to come from Auradon during their last garbage shipment," Jay said before rummaging through below-counter and holding up an object with a smirk.
Mal snorted. "A tambourine?"
"Well, it's one of the rare things that come from Auradon in nearly prefect condition," Jay said, shaking the instrument.
Mal pursed her lips and inhaled. "How much?"
Later that day, none other than God of the Underworld would find a tambourine of all things on his front door, with a note attached to it that read: 'Happy Father's Day'.
———————————————
"These fries are too dry!"
"Well, it's the best we got here. You could care less if you were rubbing elbows with the Boredon folk instead of doing whatever it is that got you sent here."
"SPEAK FOR YOURSELF!"
"I was born on this hellhole. What's your excuse?" Uma scoffed at the second customer she had gotten into a fight with that day after throwing them their tray. She knew she would be on the harsh end of her mother's tentacles later that day, but hey, what was new?
She shook her head as her eyes caught her first mate slowly walked into the restaurant, fidgeting slightly as he made his way towards Uma.
She gave him a pointed look, making him shake his head in remembrance before taking off his sword still in its scabbard and placing it in the sword check.
He came over to the wide table at the end of the restaurant as Uma slid him his usual and gave a questioning look.
"What's up with you today?" she asked, eyeing the other twelve-year-old suspiciously at his very visible nervousness. His face went slightly blank and he slowly looked up to face his captain.
Harry gulped. "I... may have found something out am not sure if I should tell ye."
"Does it concern me?" Uma raised an eyebrow, making Harry nod slowly. "Then spill."
"Today at the docks, I heard CJ speaking with Freddie Faciler."
"...And?" Uma asked with a chuckle, not knowing where this conversation could go that would be a matter that could frazzle Harry in such a manner.
"The girl was talking about how today was Father's Day-"
"Today is what-Day?" the sea captain asked, amused.
"Father's Day. It's a day that celebrates dads," Harry answered, not entirely understanding the holiday himself.
"Why? What's so great about them?" Uma asked. She didn't have a father in her life, but it's common knowledge that all parental figures on the Isle of the Lost were crap.
Harry shrugged before continuing. "Anyways, she was complaining about how her pops was down in the dumps today because..." Harry lost eye contact with Uma. "He couldn't see the person who made him a father in the first place."
Uma shook her head in confusion. "'Person who made him a'-" she repeated until she was able to put two and two together. How this matter could possibly concern her, why Harry was so nervous to tell her... It was the only conclusion.
"You," Harry squeaked before quickly returning to his food.
Uma put her hand on the table to steady herself as she tried to go over it in her head. Dr. Facilier? Her father? And she had two younger sisters? And he was down in the dumps because he couldn't see her?!
She grabbed Harry's shoulder suddenly. "Harry Hook, I swear to the gods, if you're messing with me-"
"It's what I heard, I swear," he had his hands up in surrender as he looked on in slight concern for his captain who appeared to still be in a state of shock.
Before Harry could call after her, Uma had jumped over the table and ran out of the establishment, passing Gil who was entering at the same time. "Hey, Um-" Gil didn't have a chance to complete his greeting as Uma was gone as quickly as a bolt of lighting. He looked back in confusion as the doors were rocking back and forth. He shrugged in confusion as he sat down across from Harry. "So, how's your Father's Day been?"
Meanwhile, Uma was running across the Isle so fast, one without context would assume someone was chasing her—that is, until she came to an abrupt stop as she reached the outside of her destination.
Her heart rate began to accelerate as she slowly approached the entrance of 'Facilier's Voodoo Arcade'.
She sucked in a breath as she made shaky steps towards the tall and lean man sitting with his legs up.
"D-Dr..." Uma started in a such a low voice, the man didn't hear her until she decided to speak louder. "Dad?" she said boldly.
She flinched when the man bounced. His back was turned to her and she didn't see his face as he was still sitting. "Freddie, that you?" he asked in a groggy voice, indicating he just woke up. He got up and turned around, but paused and all tiredness gone from him with the shock as he looked at his daughter he hadn't spoken to since... well, ever.
Uma's face began to contort in guilt as she shrugged her shoulders at the man's silence. "Happy Father's Day?"
"U-Uma?" the voodoo with doctor asked in part shock and uncertainly. He took off his hat and whacked himself twice in the head with the top, spherical part of his cane, starling Uma a little. "Oh, so I'm not dreaming," he muttered before recollecting himself.
"Is it true?" Uma asked in a small voice, all her boldness and confidence gone now that she was truly looking her alleged father in the eye. "A-Are you my dad?"
Facilier nodded his head. "I should be. I have to be. I asked Ursula and she refused to tell me but... you have to be," he said the last part in a whisper.
"Why didn't you tell me? What, you didn't want me?" Uma said, sounding a little betrayed. Facilier was one of the only decent fathers on the Isle. Why wouldn't he want Uma? Why wouldn't he take her from Ursula?
Facilier gave a simultaneous sympathetic and guilty look and took a step forward, making Uma take a step back. "Your mother. She... said if I ever tried to take you, she would kill you."
"What?" the twelve-year-old's face contorted in horror. Her mother, threaten to kill her? Well, the sea witch clearly shows no quarrels with working her own daughter tirelessly and physically punishing her for insubordination—but would she actually dare to take her life?
She shook her head. "What do you mean 'kill me'? Why would you take that threat seriously? She doesn't have magic. You could have taken me from her if you wanted to."
"You see that necklace your wearing?" Facilier referred to the shell pendant around Uma's neck that her mother had given her.
Uma looked down at it skeptically. "Yeah... Why?"
"Your mother has an identical one. The connection between the two is tethered to your life force. Your mother can end it anytime she pleases."
Uma gasped before shaking her head in confusion. "B-But the barrier blocks out magic!"
"It keeps evil magic from being used and created, but magical bonds that are inherent still remain intact, such as Ursula's descendants' life force to the necklace," Facilier explained.
Uma's brows were furrowed as she contemplated what she was being told. While she was frightened at the idea of her mother threatening to murder her, she couldn't help but feel a little touched that Ursula would go to such lengths to keep her.
"Why?" Uma dared ask. "Why did she want me to stay with her so badly?"
Facilier gave a dry chuckle. "So she would have a free employee to run the night shifts without questions."
Uma sighed and looked down, knowing she shouldn't have expected anything more.
"Your mother doesn't care about you, Uma. I know it's difficult to hear, but you deserve to know the truth. In her eyes, you're nothing but a pawn, something she's entitled to and can do whatever she wants with it," Faciler said bluntly as he leans on his cane. His voice was sympathetic, but just as he said, what Uma needs right now is the truth.
"...What about you? Do you care about me?"
Dr. Faciler shrugged. "Of course I do. You're my daughter. If it wasn't for that blasted necklace, I would have strangled Ursula with her own tentacles and let you be raised with your sisters."
Uma had to suppress a smile. Then a frown. She just finds out that she's one of the few villain children with a parent who cares about her, and she can't even see him, not without potentially getting herself killed.
"Can... can I see you again?" Uma asked with hope in her eyes.
Facilier didn't get the chance to answer as a blonde son of Gaston came running towards Uma.
"Gil, what is it?" Uma asked, slightly annoyed that he had interrupted the moment.
"Your mom. She's been asking about you. She doesn't seem happy," Gil said in labored breaths from running to find Uma.
"Uh oh," Uma muttered before following Gil out the arcade to get back to the chip shoppe to not dig herself into a deeper hole with her mother.
"Uma, wait!" her father called out after her before she left.
"Yeah?"
"...I'll be waiting for you tomorrow."
———————————————
Eleven-year-old Carlos de Vil couldn't help but smile as he he was finally able to lay his head back and sleep.
He had just managed to finish his mother's massive list of chores for the day and was able to relax his muscles on the thin, torn mattress in his mother's fur closet that he is so generous to call a bed.
"Carlos!"
The boy jumped from his resting position and sighed as he made sure to avoid getting his leg caught in the bear trap located on the right foot of the mattress. He'd been meaning to move that.
"Yeah, mom?"
"I need you to fluff my winter coat."
Carlos rolled his eyes upon his mother saying 'winter coat'. It's not like the weather ever changed on the Isle. It was always cold within the Isle thanks to the ever looming gray cloud above it. No matter what the weather was like on the outside of the barrier, it was always the same inside.
It wasn't freezing cold, but let's just say you don't wear short sleeves. The people who did, such as Jay, Harry Hook, and Gil LeGume were mainly muscular, therefore it served them better to have their biceps visible as an intimidation factor more than it served to wear clothes to actually keep them warm. Though, it was safe to assume they became used to he cold by now.
"Hurry now!" Cruella shouted.
Carlos arose and carefully but quickly made his way through the dark closet that was littered with bear traps despite the fact that what was outside the closet he found more frightening. That's why it was best he didn't keep her waiting.
"I'm here, I'm here," he said as his mother continued to shriek his name.
"Finally!" she said throwing her arms out behind her for Carlos to remove the coat. As he did so, he noticed something strange on his mother's back that he had many times before but never questioned nor commented on. He carefully folded the coat in his hands as he said "Mom?" hesitantly.
"What is it?" she asked annoyed, barely moving her lips, careful not to smudge the lipstick she was currently applying in the mirror in front of her.
"Where did you get that scar?" he asked, a little concern in his voice. Carlos's mother had given him a fair amount of scars, and he was aware of how much they hurt, both physically and mentally, depending on how it was received.
"Hm?" she asked as she finished applying the lipstick and turning around. "Oh, your father gave it to me," she answered dismissively.
Carlos flinched as his eyes widened. "M-My... who?" He asked, still processing what she had said. She had never brought up the topic of his father and truthfully, he had never bern interested in knowing. One parent was enough for him.
"William," she said, sitting on the rickety recliner chair before Carlos came over and opened it.
"William," he repeated, recalling what villains they had on the Isle had the name 'William' until the name finally rang a bell. "...William Clayton?" (A/N): The villain from Tarzan, in case anyone didn't know.
Clayton already had a son, Clay Clayton. He was around Carlos's age, and was rather reserved but aggressive when even slightly provoked, taking after his father. Carlos didn't know him that well, but if his mother's claim was to be true, Carlos had a brother. Did Clay know? More importantly, did Clayton know?
"Unfortunately," Cruella muttered bitterly as she rested her head back as she spoke of her ex-husband. He gave her the scar on her back with the bayonet of his rifle while she was pregnant with Carlos.
"Okay, do you need anything else?" he asked, preparing to go back into the closet.
She dismissed him away with her hand and he took that as a yes. After he hung of the coat and fluffed it accordingly, he later back down on his mattress. Despite how uncomfortable it was, or rather how it would be to someone who was accustomed to sleeping on an actual bed, Carlos always managed to drift off to sleep rather quickly. This night, however, unwanted thoughts floated through his head.
He slowly got up, careful not to make any sound or he would wake up his mother. He tip-toed out of the closet, grimacing as the door made a slight creaking sound as he closed it. He bit his lip as he saw the sight of his mother having fallen asleep on the recliner chair and heavily snoring, muttering some slightly disturbing things in between.
Carlos silently shuddered as he put on his jacket and eyed his mother the entire way from the living room to the front door, where he was careful to exit without waking Cruella. In hindsight, he wasn't sure why he was so nervous about the concept considering the fur-obsessed woman was quite the heavy sleeper. Though if he did happen to wake her up, well, let's just say the consequences would be less than pretty.
As he began walking down the street as he exited Hell Hall, he sucked in a breath. Despite the fact that everyone was mostly asleep, nighttime was the most dangerous time to be up and about around the Isle.
However, Carlos was small. And he had no allies or anybody to look out for him. Meaning he had experience slipping around the Isle without drawing attention to himself. How else would he steal without being caught and beaten to death? Cruella didn't feed him and he still needed food.
It was quite a walking distance between Hell Hall and where Carlos needed to go, well more like wanted to go. He didn't need this. He was surviving with his mother and when you live on the Isle of the Lost, you leave well enough alone, you don't ask for more than what you have. But the curiosity was killing him, it's what compelled him to knock on the door of his destination without hesitation.
"...Hello?" he called out after a minute of no response. He leaned on the door, trying the doorknob as he thought about just turning around and going home. That is, until the doorknob actually turned, and with his weight on the door, Carlos found himself inside the man's house.
He took a deep breath as he was dragging his feet inside the house. "Hello?" he called out once more. "...Dad?"
No answer.
He shrugged. Should he wait for the poacher to return? Or should he leave while he still can?
"You, boy!" he jumped as he heard a voice behind him.
Carlos wasn't sure to let his face light up, or let it his heart sink to his stomach as he faced Clayton. One one hand, Carlos could finally look at a man and recognize him as his father. On the other, the man was glaring at him with gritted teeth and veins popping out on either side of his neck.
"I, uh," Carlos began, trying to determine where to begin to explain to the man why he was in his house.
"You," the man said, practically shaking in anger and Carlos had to register his action once again.
"Excuse me?"
"YOU!" he repeated much louder this, and it was now apparent to Carlos that he knew exactly who he was.
And he was not pleased.
Before Carlos knew it, Clayton was digging into a nearby closet and getting out a rifle. Carlos' eyes widened and he was frozen in place. How did he manage to supply a firearm on the Isle of the Lost? Wait, was he going to sit around and wonder? The man was pointing a gun at him!
Carlos screamed as he ducked behind a table, waiting to hear a gunshot firing in his direction. Not that he had been heard one before, of course, so he didn't know what it was supposed to sound like. But he wouldn't wait to find out. He ran out from under the table.
"Hey!" the eleven-year-old heard his father calling out behind him as he scanned the house for another door and sighed in relief as he found a back door. He ran to it and frantically shook the doorknob, wondering why this door had to be locked. Clayton was stomping towards him, rifle still in-hand and Carlos was panicking. He quickly managed to unlock and bolt out the door.
———————————————
"Anthony, give that back!" Dizzy shouted as she chased her older cousin around the salon.
"You want it?" Anthony teased, holding the glue gun up in the air, knowing Dizzy couldn't reach that high.
Nevertheless, the redheaded tried—she repeatedly jumped up, attempting to reach the crafting tool her ever annoying cousin was keeping hostage.
"KEEP IT DOWN!" Both children were startled by the voice of their grandmother from upstairs, stomping her cane on the floor which pounded on the ceiling of the salon, causing Anthony and Dizzy to wince.
Anthony gave Dizzy the glue gun and walked out. Dizzy frowned as she returned to what she was doing. She sat at her desk and resumed glueing a silver crown pendant onto a black-wired bracelet.
She looked upon the doors of the establishment practically being thrown open and in entered her mother. "Mother!" Drizella called in anger.
"What?!" Lady Tremaine responded, coming down to the salon.
"Hans is still refusing to give me Dizzy's child support!"
Dizzy internally sighed. For months, her mother had been trying to get the Prince of the Southern Isles to take responsibility for his daughter and do his share giving the family with the support they needed in order to provide for Dizzy. Not that the family really needed support. To Isle standards, the Tremaines were financially decent. Everybody knew that they just wanted the extra money as well as the ability to brag that one of the Tremaine daughters had managed to have a child with a prince.
Lady Tremaine scoffed. "Because of your incompetence. You don't simply request something from a man. You take it, blackmail him, threaten to tell the Isle that he had a child out of wedlock. It's not like your reputation is at risk. He's a prince—his image is everything to him."
"Mother, we're on the Isle—image means nothing anymore."
"Ugh! Useless, just like your sister and wench of a stepsister!"
The two women stormed off in opposite directions in anger.
Once Dizzy was sure they were both gone, she opened the desk drawer and took out the carefully decorated card she'd been working on. It was very colorful and had some rusted beads glued to the front. It was a father's day care for her dad. The seven-year-old was forbidden from seeing Hans until he provided the family with those blasted child support payments.
She hopped off the chair and quickly ran out of the salon, trying to be as quiet as possible. She put the card in her apron pocket and walked through the Isle, keeping her head down until she reached the residence of her father. She approached the door, and stopped to wonder about what she was going to do. Would she knock on the door and give the card to him by hand? Should she leave it on the doorstep?
She decided on the first option, wanting to actually see her father despite her grandmother's wishes. Her knuckles slowly approached the door but then excitedly knocked on it until a red-haired man in his thirties opened up, and was none too pleased to see her.
Hans exhaled in exasperation. "Your mother start sending you to try and play to my pity?"
Dizzy frowned. "No, no, my mother didn't send me. I... uh, I came to give you this." She smiled brightly and handed Hans the card she had made for him.
The man took the card and raised an eyebrow. He practically threw it back in her face. "Get lost, girl. I'm not a father and I never will be." With that, he slammed the door.
Dizzy turned out, tears welling in her eyes. Well, that settled it.
"DIZZY!" The girl looked up to find her grandmother stomping towards her. "What brought you here?!"
"I... I just-"
Lady Tremaine noticed the card on the floor and picked it up. She looked it over and scoffed. "'Happy Father's Day'? You have no business celebrating such a holiday. The man who contributed to your existence is a poor excuse of a prince who doesn't know how to take responsibility for his mistakes." She straightened up and took Dizzy's hand. "Come on, we're going home. You are never coming here again."
(A/N): My version of father's day for the kids with single mothers on the Isle. Hope you liked my headcanons of the characters' fathers. Mother's day for the motherless VKs is up next.
I am so sorry for being so behind for the one-shots. As you can see, the current chapter and the next one are going to be extremely long.