Categories > Movies > Descendants > Reckless Paradise
On her way to Mark’s apartment one evening, Quinn popped into the grocery store across from the train station. Normally she tried to shop at the Underground, both to support the local businesses and to avoid all the stares, but it was out of her way.
She turned her head away from the cashiers as she walked by, hoping they would not recognize her. As she walked down the aisle, she saw a familiar figure – Fairy Godmother. Quinn tried to turn quickly, but she had been seen.
“Hello, Miss Little,” she said, kindly but not exactly warmly.
“Fairy Godmother!” Quinn turned to her, pasting on a smile. “How are you?”
“I am quite well, thank you. How are you?”
“I’m...” Dealing with hatred and mistrust from everyone? Being smeared almost daily on the news? “I’m alright.”
“I hope your father is well.”
“He is.”
“And how his he. dealing with everything?” she asked.
Quinn searched for the meaning behind her words. “He is,” she said cautiously. “very supportive of me, something I seem to be missing from most people these days.” She noticed some movement at one of the cash registers and saw a cashier rush off to the back room.
“Well, can you really blame them, Quinn?” Her eyes were sympathetic, but not sympathetic for her.
“It has certainly been very eye-opening, seeing the other side of Auradon, the side you all fight so hard to hide,” Quinn said quietly.
Fairy Godmother’s mouth opened, but before she could say anything, a middle-aged man in a store uniform rushed over to them. The cashier who had run to the back room was a few steps behind him, eyes wide.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave the store,” he said in a voice trying for authority but failing to hide his fear. “We don’t serve villains here.”
Quinn sighed and turned to Fairy Godmother. “You know,” she said. “you’re lucky you’re wrong about villain kids always ultimately becoming their parents because then you’d all be dead by now.”
“Did you threaten Fairy Godmother?” Mark asked when Quinn stepped inside his apartment half an hour later.
“What?”
Mark pointed at the TV, showing a shaken-looking Fairy Godmother being interviewed by Snow White right outside of the grocery store. The sound was muted but she could guess how this would be spun against her.
“I didn’t actually threaten her,” Quinn huffed, sinking into the couch.
“Didn’t actu– What did you say?”
“I said that she was lucky she was wrong about villain kids becoming like their parents because otherwise.” Quinn hesitated. “All of you would be dead.”
“What?” Mark exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?”
“I know, I shouldn’t have said it, it was dumb.”
“Yeah, it was.” Mark stood up and began pacing. “The whole reason you told everyone you were a VK was to show that VKs weren’t guaranteed to become their parents.”
“I know,” Quinn said.
“This is going to be a nightmare for our image.”
“I know.” Quinn’s voice grew louder.
“Do you have any idea how easily they can use this against you?”
“I know!” Quinn shouted, standing up.
Mark stopped his pacing and looked at her.
Quinn’s bottom lip quivered. “I know, okay. I know how bad this looks. The news has been running stories about me for weeks. Yesterday, they got footage of me practising quarterstaff with Dad, implying that I’m violent, even though last year’s Sherwood quarterstaff champion was Rowan Tinker! They dug up my school records, showing how many times I got detention and skipped class. They had interviews with all the kids from Auradon Prep about how I was a loner and didn’t fit with the way hero kids are supposed to act.” Quinn slumped down onto the couch again. “I was angry today because the manager of that store ordered me to leave, saying he doesn’t serve villains. And Fairy Godmother was right there, the personification of all the performative goodness in this country.”
Mark sat down across from her. “I’m sorry. You’re taking the brunt of the public’s reaction and that’s not fair.”
“When as any of this been fair?” Quinn could feel the knot of hopelessness in her stomach again, like the lump in her throat that she was trying to ignore. “I’m so tired, Mark,” she said quietly. “If nothing happens soon, I don’t know how long I can keep doing this.”
“Come on, Quinn.” Mark grabbed her hands. “We’ve just got to keep pushing. They’ll see the light eventually.”
Eventually. The word hung in the air, tantalizing. Taunting. It held no schedule, no timetable, just the guarantee of sometime in the future. Who knew how long it would take?
•••
The weeks slogged on and nothing changed. They held silent vigils, more protests. Quinn was starting to get to know the holding cells quite well. She was never charged with anything – what could they charge her with? – just kept her there overnight to cool down. They sent petitions and letters to the king and queen and all the other regional leaders but never received an answer.
The royal family continued their public appearances as though everything was the same. They christened a ship, held a fundraiser ball for the local hospital, and sent their son off on his first solo royal visit. It was infuriating.
Quinn found herself spending more and more of her free days in Sherwood, only heading to the city for demonstrations. At least in Sherwood, she did not get so many stares because most of Sherwood supported them.
She and Dad had stopped talking about the campaign at home aside from scheduling details. They spent her free time practising archery and quarterstaff or just spending time in the trees.
•••
“I don’t know what to do, Robin,” Little John said one day as he and Robin sipped tea at the Sherwood café. “She’s retreating within herself. I know she’s having a hard time with everything, but she refuses to talk about it.”
“It can’t be easy when the whole country thinks she’s evil,” Robin said with a sigh.
Little John shook his head. “It’s absurd. How could the country have fallen this far in a little over a decade?”
“Separation can change a culture,” Robin said. “It’s been so long since we have faced a villain, we’ve forgotten what true villainy is. It’s not aesthetics or wardrobe, it’s wanting to harm people. That seems to have slipped people’s minds.”
“We can’t just blame everyone else though,” Little John said thoughtfully. “It’s on all of us for not keeping the government in check. We all became complacent after the final battle, as though all bad things were confined to the Isle.”
Robin nodded.
“But this doesn’t help Quinn or her movement. I’m afraid if it goes on like this, she’s going to burn herself out.”
“If she’s not talking to you, and Mark has told me she’s not talking to him, who might she talk to?”
•••
“Do you have any way of contacting your friends on the Isle?” Dad asked that evening.
Quinn looked up from her book in surprise. “Why?”
“I thought you’d probably miss them.” He sat down in his chair by the fire. “They might be able to encourage you a bit.”
She smiled a little. The thought of speaking with Jax or Jukes or Sheela would be very uplifting. Even hearing Blake’s voice would be nice. “I don’t think I could,” she sighed. “The only way I was even able to contact Mark to help get me back was through this little whiz kid on the Isle. And even with his tech, it was only a one-way signal.” She closed her book. “And they’ve probably made that harder as well, afraid I’ll try to instigate a rebellion or whatever.”
But the conversation got her thinking, so when Dad went off to bed, Quinn clambered up onto the roof. Looking up at the stars, she imagined she and Jax were stargazing from the rigging of the Jolly Roger.
“Hey, Jax,” she said quietly.
You’re looking a little down, princess, she could almost hear him say.
“Well, I’ve had a rough couple of months,” she said with a wry smile.
Nothing’s quite the same without me, huh? She could imagine his expression going more serious, his voice more sincere. What’s wrong?
“I don’t know what to do. Nobody cares and I’ve tried all that I could to make them. And now everyone knows I’m a VK and dislike me even more than before and... I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Quinn fought with the lump in her throat again.
Quinn, you are one of the most capable, resilient people I know. You caught my eye the first day we met and my faith in you has never wavered. You will make the right decision about this.
Quinn thought about all she had learned on the Isle. The person she had become. Some parts she wished had not come to be: her over-vigilance, her hunger for adrenaline; but other parts were good. Surely something could help her now.
Suddenly, Blake’s voice echoed in her memory, from training.
“Be aware of your surroundings at all times. You must always make decisions off of what you know is around you. Not what you wish it was, or how you want it to be. What it is.”
The words, harsh but true, felt like a punch to the gut. As much as she hated it, he was right. All of the evidence showed that Auradon just was not ready. They did not have the support of the public and it did not look like that was going to change anytime soon.
Maybe in the future, the time would come. Eventually.
•••
“Are you sure?” Mark asked.
The core group was meeting above Chloe’s shop. Everyone looked tired when they came in, and not particularly surprised at Quinn’s words.
“I’m just saying what I think,” Quinn said. “I know it’s not just my decision to make. It’s as much my campaign as it is everybody’s in this room. But I believe that now… now is not the time for this.”
Chloe looked around at the discouraged faces around the table. “I understand, but like Mark said, are you sure about this? Nobody has suffered as much as you for this. Do you want to give it up?”
“This isn’t me giving up permanently. I believe there will be a time for our message. And when that time comes, I’ll be ready to fight again. Maybe, now, we’ve planted seeds in people’s minds.”
Around the table, everyone nodded their agreement and the meeting became their last.
Later, at the Underground bar, Chloe raised her drink. “To the future,” she said.
“To the future,” Mark and Quinn echoed.
She turned her head away from the cashiers as she walked by, hoping they would not recognize her. As she walked down the aisle, she saw a familiar figure – Fairy Godmother. Quinn tried to turn quickly, but she had been seen.
“Hello, Miss Little,” she said, kindly but not exactly warmly.
“Fairy Godmother!” Quinn turned to her, pasting on a smile. “How are you?”
“I am quite well, thank you. How are you?”
“I’m...” Dealing with hatred and mistrust from everyone? Being smeared almost daily on the news? “I’m alright.”
“I hope your father is well.”
“He is.”
“And how his he. dealing with everything?” she asked.
Quinn searched for the meaning behind her words. “He is,” she said cautiously. “very supportive of me, something I seem to be missing from most people these days.” She noticed some movement at one of the cash registers and saw a cashier rush off to the back room.
“Well, can you really blame them, Quinn?” Her eyes were sympathetic, but not sympathetic for her.
“It has certainly been very eye-opening, seeing the other side of Auradon, the side you all fight so hard to hide,” Quinn said quietly.
Fairy Godmother’s mouth opened, but before she could say anything, a middle-aged man in a store uniform rushed over to them. The cashier who had run to the back room was a few steps behind him, eyes wide.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave the store,” he said in a voice trying for authority but failing to hide his fear. “We don’t serve villains here.”
Quinn sighed and turned to Fairy Godmother. “You know,” she said. “you’re lucky you’re wrong about villain kids always ultimately becoming their parents because then you’d all be dead by now.”
“Did you threaten Fairy Godmother?” Mark asked when Quinn stepped inside his apartment half an hour later.
“What?”
Mark pointed at the TV, showing a shaken-looking Fairy Godmother being interviewed by Snow White right outside of the grocery store. The sound was muted but she could guess how this would be spun against her.
“I didn’t actually threaten her,” Quinn huffed, sinking into the couch.
“Didn’t actu– What did you say?”
“I said that she was lucky she was wrong about villain kids becoming like their parents because otherwise.” Quinn hesitated. “All of you would be dead.”
“What?” Mark exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?”
“I know, I shouldn’t have said it, it was dumb.”
“Yeah, it was.” Mark stood up and began pacing. “The whole reason you told everyone you were a VK was to show that VKs weren’t guaranteed to become their parents.”
“I know,” Quinn said.
“This is going to be a nightmare for our image.”
“I know.” Quinn’s voice grew louder.
“Do you have any idea how easily they can use this against you?”
“I know!” Quinn shouted, standing up.
Mark stopped his pacing and looked at her.
Quinn’s bottom lip quivered. “I know, okay. I know how bad this looks. The news has been running stories about me for weeks. Yesterday, they got footage of me practising quarterstaff with Dad, implying that I’m violent, even though last year’s Sherwood quarterstaff champion was Rowan Tinker! They dug up my school records, showing how many times I got detention and skipped class. They had interviews with all the kids from Auradon Prep about how I was a loner and didn’t fit with the way hero kids are supposed to act.” Quinn slumped down onto the couch again. “I was angry today because the manager of that store ordered me to leave, saying he doesn’t serve villains. And Fairy Godmother was right there, the personification of all the performative goodness in this country.”
Mark sat down across from her. “I’m sorry. You’re taking the brunt of the public’s reaction and that’s not fair.”
“When as any of this been fair?” Quinn could feel the knot of hopelessness in her stomach again, like the lump in her throat that she was trying to ignore. “I’m so tired, Mark,” she said quietly. “If nothing happens soon, I don’t know how long I can keep doing this.”
“Come on, Quinn.” Mark grabbed her hands. “We’ve just got to keep pushing. They’ll see the light eventually.”
Eventually. The word hung in the air, tantalizing. Taunting. It held no schedule, no timetable, just the guarantee of sometime in the future. Who knew how long it would take?
•••
The weeks slogged on and nothing changed. They held silent vigils, more protests. Quinn was starting to get to know the holding cells quite well. She was never charged with anything – what could they charge her with? – just kept her there overnight to cool down. They sent petitions and letters to the king and queen and all the other regional leaders but never received an answer.
The royal family continued their public appearances as though everything was the same. They christened a ship, held a fundraiser ball for the local hospital, and sent their son off on his first solo royal visit. It was infuriating.
Quinn found herself spending more and more of her free days in Sherwood, only heading to the city for demonstrations. At least in Sherwood, she did not get so many stares because most of Sherwood supported them.
She and Dad had stopped talking about the campaign at home aside from scheduling details. They spent her free time practising archery and quarterstaff or just spending time in the trees.
•••
“I don’t know what to do, Robin,” Little John said one day as he and Robin sipped tea at the Sherwood café. “She’s retreating within herself. I know she’s having a hard time with everything, but she refuses to talk about it.”
“It can’t be easy when the whole country thinks she’s evil,” Robin said with a sigh.
Little John shook his head. “It’s absurd. How could the country have fallen this far in a little over a decade?”
“Separation can change a culture,” Robin said. “It’s been so long since we have faced a villain, we’ve forgotten what true villainy is. It’s not aesthetics or wardrobe, it’s wanting to harm people. That seems to have slipped people’s minds.”
“We can’t just blame everyone else though,” Little John said thoughtfully. “It’s on all of us for not keeping the government in check. We all became complacent after the final battle, as though all bad things were confined to the Isle.”
Robin nodded.
“But this doesn’t help Quinn or her movement. I’m afraid if it goes on like this, she’s going to burn herself out.”
“If she’s not talking to you, and Mark has told me she’s not talking to him, who might she talk to?”
•••
“Do you have any way of contacting your friends on the Isle?” Dad asked that evening.
Quinn looked up from her book in surprise. “Why?”
“I thought you’d probably miss them.” He sat down in his chair by the fire. “They might be able to encourage you a bit.”
She smiled a little. The thought of speaking with Jax or Jukes or Sheela would be very uplifting. Even hearing Blake’s voice would be nice. “I don’t think I could,” she sighed. “The only way I was even able to contact Mark to help get me back was through this little whiz kid on the Isle. And even with his tech, it was only a one-way signal.” She closed her book. “And they’ve probably made that harder as well, afraid I’ll try to instigate a rebellion or whatever.”
But the conversation got her thinking, so when Dad went off to bed, Quinn clambered up onto the roof. Looking up at the stars, she imagined she and Jax were stargazing from the rigging of the Jolly Roger.
“Hey, Jax,” she said quietly.
You’re looking a little down, princess, she could almost hear him say.
“Well, I’ve had a rough couple of months,” she said with a wry smile.
Nothing’s quite the same without me, huh? She could imagine his expression going more serious, his voice more sincere. What’s wrong?
“I don’t know what to do. Nobody cares and I’ve tried all that I could to make them. And now everyone knows I’m a VK and dislike me even more than before and... I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Quinn fought with the lump in her throat again.
Quinn, you are one of the most capable, resilient people I know. You caught my eye the first day we met and my faith in you has never wavered. You will make the right decision about this.
Quinn thought about all she had learned on the Isle. The person she had become. Some parts she wished had not come to be: her over-vigilance, her hunger for adrenaline; but other parts were good. Surely something could help her now.
Suddenly, Blake’s voice echoed in her memory, from training.
“Be aware of your surroundings at all times. You must always make decisions off of what you know is around you. Not what you wish it was, or how you want it to be. What it is.”
The words, harsh but true, felt like a punch to the gut. As much as she hated it, he was right. All of the evidence showed that Auradon just was not ready. They did not have the support of the public and it did not look like that was going to change anytime soon.
Maybe in the future, the time would come. Eventually.
•••
“Are you sure?” Mark asked.
The core group was meeting above Chloe’s shop. Everyone looked tired when they came in, and not particularly surprised at Quinn’s words.
“I’m just saying what I think,” Quinn said. “I know it’s not just my decision to make. It’s as much my campaign as it is everybody’s in this room. But I believe that now… now is not the time for this.”
Chloe looked around at the discouraged faces around the table. “I understand, but like Mark said, are you sure about this? Nobody has suffered as much as you for this. Do you want to give it up?”
“This isn’t me giving up permanently. I believe there will be a time for our message. And when that time comes, I’ll be ready to fight again. Maybe, now, we’ve planted seeds in people’s minds.”
Around the table, everyone nodded their agreement and the meeting became their last.
Later, at the Underground bar, Chloe raised her drink. “To the future,” she said.
“To the future,” Mark and Quinn echoed.
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