In the grand castle of Beauty and the Beast, its towering stone walls bathed in the soft glow of afternoon sunlight, their son, Ben, stood at the window, gazing out into the distance. His blue eyes, so like his mother's, were focused on the Isle of the Lost. Even from this far away, across the sparkling blue sea, he could see the flickering shimmer of the magical barrier that encased the island—a veil of light that seemed both beautiful and sad, like a piece of broken glass. The island, full of exiled villains and their children, had always been a symbol of punishment, a faraway land where the worst of the worst had been cast aside, forgotten by the world. It was a world Ben had grown up hearing about but had never really understood. He could never look at it without a sense of pity, a deep ache that tugged at his heart.

The royal tailor was busy measuring him, his soft hands running a tape measure around Ben's chest and waist, making careful notes on a pad of paper. The air smelled faintly of lavender and fresh parchment as Ben stood motionless, his gaze never leaving the isle across the sea. The tailor mumbled to himself, jotting down Ben's measurements for the blue coronation suit he was preparing—a grand suit with intricate gold thread embroidered along the cuffs, matching the soft sheen of the royal crown that would soon be passed on to Ben. It was all so ceremonial, so formal, but none of it seemed to matter in that moment.

The soft swish of footsteps interrupted his thoughts. He turned slightly to see his parents, Belle and Beast, entering the room. Belle, radiant in her golden gown, smiled warmly at her son, her presence a calming warmth in the cool stone room. Beast, towering with his broad shoulders and regal demeanor, blinked through his black-framed glasses, his usually serious expression filled with something akin to disbelief.

"How is it possible that you're going to be crowned king next month?" Beast asked, his voice gruff but laced with affection. He squinted through his glasses, then pushed them up the bridge of his nose. The golden crown atop his head glittered in the light, almost as if it, too, were struggling to accept the truth that Ben—his son, his little boy—was now approaching his coronation. "You're just a baby," Beast muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

"He's turning sixteen, dear," Belle reminded him gently, her eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and amusement as she adjusted a strand of her hair.

Ben chuckled and waved a hand. "Hey, Pops," he said with a grin, acknowledging his father's disbelief.

Beast blinked again, as if processing the passage of time. "Sixteen?" He took off his glasses, wiping them on his jacket before slipping them back on. "That's far too young to be crowned king. I didn't make a good decision until I was at least...forty-two." He smiled then, the corners of his mouth curling in a fond, fatherly way as he tucked his glasses into his jacket pocket.

Belle raised an eyebrow at him. "Uh, you decided to marry me when you were twenty-eight," she said, her voice teasing but soft.

Beast smirked, raising an eyebrow in return. "It was either you or a teapot," he replied, winking at Ben, his playful humor making the room feel warmer despite the grandeur of the occasion.

Ben laughed, feeling the weight of the conversation lighten for a moment. "Kidding," Beast added with a wink, his eyebrows dancing in a mischievous rhythm.

Ben shook his head, grinning. But as the laughter died down, a quiet thought settled in his chest. It was time. He took a deep breath, feeling the room shift as he stood straighter, looking at his parents. "Mom, Dad, I've chosen my first official proclamation!"

Beast and Belle exchanged a glance, smiles playing at the edges of their lips. They knew their son was ready for this—he had always been wise beyond his years, compassionate, and eager to bring change. But what he said next took them both by surprise.

"I've decided that the children on the Isle of the Lost should be given a chance..." Ben's voice trailed off as he gestured toward the window, his gaze once again drawn to the flickering barrier. "To live here in Auradon."

There was a long, stunned silence. The tailor, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, quietly lowered his notepad and took a seat, unsure of what to say.

"The children of our sworn enemies?" Beast's voice was low, his disbelief turning to concern as he turned to face Ben, his thick brow furrowing. "Living among us?"

Ben nodded, his expression resolute, the sadness in his eyes now replaced by determination. "We start out with a few at first—only the ones who need our help the most," he explained, his voice steady but filled with a quiet conviction. "I've already chosen them."

Beast's expression softened, though his concern remained. "Have you?" he asked, the tone of his voice tinged with both curiosity and uncertainty.

Belle placed a gentle hand on Beast's arm, grounding him. She turned to Ben, her heart swelling with pride for her son's compassion, but also a quiet fear for what such a decision might entail. "I gave you a second chance," she said, her voice soft, yet unwavering. She turned to Ben, her eyes searching his for answers. "Who are their parents?"

Ben took a deep breath, the names heavy on his tongue. "Cruella De Vil, Jafar, Evil Queen..." He paused, his chest tightening as he prepared to speak the final name. "And Maleficent."

The room grew silent, the weight of those names settling over them like a thick fog. The legacy of those villains was not so easily forgotten. They had caused pain and suffering in their time. How could they possibly welcome their children into Auradon? But Ben's heart was set, and his parents knew they couldn't deny the kindness in his soul.

Belle's gaze softened, her fingers tightening around Beast's arm. "It's a brave decision, Ben," she said quietly, though the fear for their kingdom was still evident in her eyes.

But Ben stood tall, his blue eyes bright with determination. "They deserve a chance to be more than their parents, just like I did."

Beast sighed heavily, his broad shoulders slumping as he ran a hand through his thick mane of fur. "I don't think that's wise, son," he said, his voice filled with concern, the weight of his experience as a former prince now king clear in every word. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened as he looked at Ben. "You're talking about giving a second chance to the children of villains—people who've hurt so many. How can you trust them?" His gaze faltered for a moment as if unsure of how to convey the complexity of what he was feeling.

Ben looked up at his father, his heart heavy with a mixture of sadness and resolve. "What about Hiccup and Elsa's daughter?" he asked, his voice steady but filled with an underlying sense of urgency. He crossed his arms and gestured toward the window again, where the island was barely visible through the mist. "She hasn't been able to go to school in years. She's stuck on that island, cut off from everything because of what her parents did. She deserves a chance. Just like everyone else does."

Beast blinked, the mention of Elsa and Hiccup's daughter hitting him in a different way. He had known the princesses, both Elsa and Hiccup, and he had seen their children grow up as symbols of peace, compassion, and strength. He knew the sacrifices they'd made, how they'd worked together to bring unity to their worlds.

But the reality of what Ben was proposing—it was something else entirely.

"Ben, I understand your heart, I do," Beast said, his voice softening, though doubt still lingered in his words. "But do you really think it's safe to open the gates to the children of villains—people who have lived their lives causing chaos and pain? How can we be sure they're different?" He looked at his son, a flicker of worry in his eyes. "How can we be sure that they'll follow the path of peace, that they won't bring that same darkness with them?"

Ben stepped closer to his father, his hands open, his sincerity shining through. "Because I believe in second chances," he said quietly. "I believe in people being more than the worst parts of themselves. If we don't give them that chance, we're no better than the people who've cast them aside. What if their children could be the ones to change things? What if they could make things right?"

The room seemed to grow still, the weight of Ben's words hanging in the air. Belle watched the exchange between her husband and son with a quiet intensity, her heart torn between the cautious wisdom of Beast and the hopeful idealism of Ben. She placed a hand on Beast's arm, her voice barely a whisper. "You know Ben's right. We gave you a chance, and look where we are now."

Beast looked down at her, his expression softening. He wasn't entirely convinced, but he understood the deep love and belief Ben had in others. And, deep down, he knew that his son would not let this go easily.

"I know, but this is different," Beast said, his voice heavy with the burden of leadership. "You're not just opening the gates to a few children... you're talking about welcoming them into a world that's worked so hard to overcome the mistakes of the past. We can't afford to risk everything for the sake of hope."

Ben's eyes didn't waver. "We can't keep living in fear of what might happen. The world is changing. And if we don't change with it, we'll be left behind."

Beast stood there for a long moment, staring at his son, his face a mixture of pride, concern, and something else—something that was almost regret. He had been where Ben was now, fighting for what he believed in, struggling to find the right answers in a world that didn't always seem to offer them.

Finally, Beast let out a long, heavy sigh. "I just want to protect you, Ben. You're my son, and I don't want you to be hurt by this decision."

Ben stepped forward, his voice calm yet firm. "I know, Dad. But I've made my decision. This is what I believe in. We can't keep treating them like they're the villains their parents were. They deserve a chance, just like I did."

Beast's gaze softened, his eyes filled with both pride and a touch of fear for what the future would hold. "I just hope you're right," he said quietly.

Ben met his father's gaze with unshaken resolve. "I am, Pops. I'm going to prove it."

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On the Isle of the Lost, the air was thick with the stench of poverty and desperation, and Mal, daughter of Maleficent, was as much a product of the harsh world around her as the rusted, decaying buildings that lined the streets. With her purple hair flowing in the wind, she sprayed a bright green slogan across a battered city wall—LONG LIVE EVIL—her words echoing the sentiments that ran deep in her bloodline. The spray paint hissed as it left the can, and once it was done, Mal admired her handiwork with a grin. She loved seeing her mark left on this island, a place where darkness thrived.

Her leather jacket, adorned with a decal of two dragons on the back, and the tough boots she wore spoke of a life lived without remorse. She reveled in the chaos, in the ability to cause trouble, and with that thrill bubbling in her chest, she strode into the crowded marketplace. The worn faces of the islanders barely noticed her as they went about their grueling daily lives, though the air around her seemed to crackle with mischief.

From a rooftop high above, Jay, son of Jafar, watched Mal disappear into the throng below. His sharp eyes caught every movement, his posture exuding confidence, his long dark hair fluttering in the breeze. As he surveyed the market, a dangerous smile curled up at the edges of his lips. He was the kind of person who moved like a cobra, with silent precision and effortless agility. In one smooth motion, he slid down a rusty ladder and into the chaos below, weaving through the crowds as if he owned the place.

Evie, the stunning daughter of the Evil Queen, strutted across a table in the marketplace, her heels clicking with each step. With her dazzling smile, dark wavy hair, and hypnotizing eyes, she had a natural beauty that was hard to ignore. She wore a striking blue dress that shimmered against her skin and a red gem necklace topped with a crown. Her appearance was immaculate—no wonder she was always the center of attention. The group's charm was undeniable. Though the people who were left behind in the world often looked down on her, Evie knew how to make them look twice.

Carlos, son of Cruella De Vil, was a quick-footed thief, always ready to swipe something when no one was looking. His white hair with black roots, paired with his black-and-white leather jacket and boots, made him look like he belonged in this world—a world that had little regard for rules. As he navigated the market, he stole a handkerchief from one merchant and an apple from another. The chaos didn't phase him. It made him feel alive.

The four friends—Mal, Jay, Evie, and Carlos—came together like a well-oiled machine, ready to cause havoc wherever they went. They slid through alleyways and warehouses, knocking over basins and stealing whatever they could find. Mal spray-painted an M on a shower curtain, Jay swiped a teapot, Evie charmed a merchant, and Carlos kicked over a basket of fruit. It was a symphony of destruction, a perfect representation of who they were: rebels and rule-breakers, villains' children, and proud of it.

Mal, always the leader of their group, snatched a lollipop from a child's hand and held it up with triumph as the little one began to cry. Her friends laughed, their mischievous cackles ringing in the air.

But just as quickly as the laughter echoed, a shadow loomed over them. Merchants scattered, and the bustling streets fell silent. It could only mean one thing: Maleficent was here.

The queen of evil, her black horns wrapped in leather and her iconic scepter in hand, walked with purpose through the deserted street. Her eyes glowed an ominous green as she approached her daughter.

"Hi, Mom," Mal said with a mischievous smirk, not even flinching at her mother's imposing presence.

"Stealing candy, Mal?" Maleficent's voice was cold and disapproving. "I'm so disappointed."

Mal scrunched her nose up at the reprimand, unfazed. "It was from a baby," she said cheerily, waving the lollipop in front of her mother's face. Her friends snickered, enjoying the spectacle.

Maleficent took the lollipop from Mal's hand, spat on it, and then clamped it under her armpit with a cruel smile. "That's my nasty little girl," she cooed, handing the now-soiled candy to one of her henchmen. "Give it back to the dreadful creature," she instructed. The henchman scurried off to do her bidding.

Mal rolled her eyes. "Mom... seriously?" She shot an exasperated look at her friends, who were equally amused by the ridiculousness of the situation.

Maleficent smiled, her eyes gleaming with malicious pride. "It's the details, Mal, that make the difference between mean and truly evil." She looked back at her daughter, her smile widening. "When I was your age, I was cursing entire kingdoms." She threw her hands up in a grand gesture, as if reminding Mal of the evil legacy she came from.

Mal sighed, mouthing along, "Cursing entire kingdoms!" She mimicked her mom's dramatic gesture, clearly annoyed.

Maleficent chuckled darkly, her lips curling in a sinister grin. "Oh, yes. And I've also heard that the little princess of that ice queen and the dragon rider are going to join the ranks." Her words were filled with a sharp edge, almost as if the mention of these newcomers—children of royalty—soured her mood.

"We're going to be in Auradon?" Jay asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and hesitation. He'd heard stories of the perfect kingdom across the sea, of the fairy-tale world where the children of heroes lived. But it sounded too... pristine for him.

"Yep," Maleficent replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Auradon Prep, the land of perfection. I'm sure you'll love it." She glared at her daughter. "And you're going to leech off Elsa's daughter. What more could you want?"

As soon as Maleficent finished speaking, her henchmen moved quickly to seize Jay, Evie, and Carlos, who had been attempting to bolt. Mal gawked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"What? Mom, you have to be joking!" Mal exclaimed, clearly caught off guard by her mother's unexpected move.

"Nope!" Maleficent said with a wicked grin. "You'll be joining the bastion of privilege and exclusivity of... Auradon Prep." Her words tasted bitter in her mouth, but there was a gleam of triumph in her eyes as she watched Mal and her friends react.

"I'm not going to some boarding school filled to the brim with prissy pink princesses!" Mal huffed, arms crossed, utterly resistant to the idea.

"And perfect princes!" Evie added dreamily, ignoring Mal's glare as she daydreamed of a life in Auradon.

"Ugh!" Mal growled, rolling her eyes at Evie's naïve excitement.

Jay smirked. "I don't do uniforms," he said. "Unless it's leather. You feelin' me?" He shot a grin toward Carlos, who was now visibly terrified at the thought of attending school with "prissy princesses" and "perfect princes."

Carlos, ever the scaredy-cat, spoke up. "I read somewhere that they allow dogs in Auradon," he said nervously. "Mom said they're rabid pack animals who eat boys who don't behave." His voice trembled as he gulped, eyes wide with fear.

Jay couldn't resist. He snuck up behind Carlos and barked in his ear. Carlos yelped, jumping back as Jay erupted in laughter.

"Yeah, Mom," Mal shot back with finality. "We're not going. I'm not going to start doing curtsies and book reports."

"You're thinking small, punkin'," Maleficent said, brushing off their protests with a wave. "It's all about world domination!" She licked her lips, her eyes narrowing with greedy ambition. "Also, you're going to leech off Elsa's daughter. What more could you want?"

With that, she turned sharply, her henchmen flanking her, and swept down the street, her cloak billowing behind her. "Mal!" she called over her shoulder, beckoning her daughter to follow.

Mal and her friends exchanged looks of disbelief and then followed after her, their fates now tied to the strange and daunting world of Auradon Prep.

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

In her room, Astird sat at a wooden desk, her delicate fingers tracing the edges of a parchment scroll as she meticulously sketched a drawing of her dragons. They lay coiled up on their favorite pillow, their serpentine forms curled up comfortably as they rested. The soft sound of their breathing filled the room, a soothing melody to Astird's ears as she lost herself in the art. Her heart swelled with pride as she added more intricate details to the design—each scale, each wing, and every curve of their bodies coming to life under her pencil.

Suddenly, a soft rustling sound caught her attention. She looked up just in time to see a package drop onto the floor in front of her. She blinked, wondering how it had arrived so quietly.

A letter, addressed to her, lay before her. Her heart skipped a beat. The elegant handwriting was familiar—she recognized the flowing script instantly. She reached down, picking up the letter with a sense of trepidation, her fingers brushing over the seal before carefully breaking it open.

Inside, the envelope contained a single sheet of parchment, and as she unfolded it, her eyes widened. Bold, elegant letters sprawled across the page:

WELCOME TO AURADON PREP, YOUNG PRINCESS. WE ARE THRILLED TO HAVE YOU WITH US. WE HOPE YOU WILL ENJOY YOUR TOUR THAT BEGINS TOMORROW AT 8 PM SHARP.

The words stood out in crisp black ink, each letter sharp and clear as if beckoning her into the unknown. Below it was a signature, neatly penned: Fairy Godmother.

Astird's breath caught in her throat. Auradon Prep? She had heard whispers of the grand school across the sea—rumors of its royal lineage, its prestigious halls, and its elusive promise of a future of greatness. But to be invited? She had not expected this.

Her thoughts swirled as she held the letter up, her fingers trembling slightly. The dragons on the pillow stirred in response to her emotions, their ears twitching at the surge of energy in the room. One of them, with shimmering golden scales, let out a soft, curious chirp.

Astird's gaze shifted back to the letter, her mind racing. This was real. She was truly being invited to Auradon Prep. A sense of excitement, fear, and wonder danced in her chest as she tried to process the implications.

With a soft exhale, she set the letter down, her heart racing. Tomorrow. At 8 PM. Her future was about to begin. And whatever that future held, she knew one thing for certain—it would be anything but ordinary.