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remember the name

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her mind was floating. uma's never felt more humiliated or angry than right now, not even in the very moment mal dumped the baby shrimp on her. no, this was worse. a lump formed in her throat at the realization that the villains actually took to calling her shrimpy on her request.

if she were thinking clearly, she would walk away. realistically, she knows that little mal doesn't have a hold on the inhabitants of the isle, they're really scared of her mother -- the mistress of evil. however, that was no the case. uma hasn't slept in days, as the very first night her head was filled with nightmares of betrayal (those, she was not used to). she told herself she didn't care, but that was only at first, when she wasn't so sleep deprived.

her mother called her shrimpy too, but by now whatever her mother had to say bothered her little. she didn't count on this. she didn't think it'd pick up wind, and the fact she let herself hope made her feel even more like a fool. she shouldn't expect life to treat her kindly. or even decently.

she stayed in her room for the few days she managed to get away with it, but she was getting hungry, and her mother was running low on personnel. she was small and that allowed her to get away with stealing easier, unnoticeable in a crowd of villains who considered themselves big and bad -- driving attention away. now though, she felt too big for her own bones, sticking out when every couple steps there's a chuckle or a snicker and a smug "there goes shrimpy".

she returned home with no loot. she stayed hungry and her mother's nerves were wearing thin. as punishment for being too trusting, ursula refused to give her food until she took it herself.

needless to say, she stayed hungry for a long time after. the cackles dragged on and on and on and-- for weeks to come. she began feeling worn out, she was done playing this game. she wanted to be known for her ne'er--do--wells, not somebody else's.

--

her eyes gleamed dangerously, her jaw tightened. for a second, she contemplated the boy's motive -- was he stupidly bold or just plain stupid? the answer was clear as daylight. how dare he call her shrimpy. she could take him, not that it mattered, she'd jump him either way.

for a few days, everyone seemed to forget. she got hopeful. she'd shake herself out of her own fantasy if she could. no one's going to give you anything -- if you want it, you have to make it yours. she stood there, at the edge of the market, and it all came back.

"i think i misheard that!" she grinned as she planted her fist in his face. she caught him off guard, but she won't have advantage for long.

indeed, the blond boy knew what to do. his fists were raised immediately, all too ready to get back at her.

uma opened her mouth to smack talk, but her retort ended much earlier than intended, and she found herself face--to--face with harry. for a second her mind raced in confusion, lost. she thought harry caught her in a daze once again, but found that she was wrong when she heard sounds of struggling. harry had his left foot on the boy's back, effectively pinning him to the floor.

she locked eyes with harry, questioning evident in her gaze. her partner merely grinned -- in that way that chilled everyone's bones -- and looked down at his feet. he snarled "i don't think i heard ye, what'd you call 'er?"

he raised his foot, if a centimeter, only to slam the boy back into the ground. the blond gave no reply, grunting in pain instead.

uma couldn't help the satisfied smile splitting her lips as she watched harry give him what he deserved.

"what's," slam, "her name?" slam, "i can't hear ye."

among the groans and the gasps (his ribs must be bruised by now), there was an audible u-- uma. his lips quivered and he shut his eyes in pain, that much was visible from where she was standing.

harry looked up at her with a smile, clearly proud of his handiwork. she could only smirk as she ran her fingers through his hair, a mockery of a pet. her hand fell to her side, her smirk fell from her lips.

"what's my name?"

is it bad that she loves how strong she sounds when she says it out loud? it tastes like steel to the young sea witch. bad is always good, after all, when you're on the isle of the lost.

in seconds, her partner got on one knee (digging into the blond's side) and was taking off his captain's hat. he locked eyes with uma, his gaze purposeful. he shared a quiet whisper, only to fill the space between the two.

"uma."

to her however, it was the loudest thing ever.