now playing,
Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys
from this point on, the story loosely follows the plot of the movies up until the start of descendants 3.
The morning sun filtered through the cabin window, casting a warm glow across the room as Estella stood in front of the small mirror, attempting to smooth down her hair. Her fingers worked deftly at the braid Harry had tied the night before, but her reflection was far from cooperative. Pieces of hair refused to stay in place, sticking out at odd angles.
"Bloody braids," she muttered under her breath, yanking at a strand in frustration.
"Need some help, pixie?" Harry's teasing voice came from the doorway.
Estella turned to see him leaning casually against the frame, shirtless as usual, with that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.
"Not from you," she shot back, though her tone was light. "You're the reason my hair's a mess in the first place."
Harry stepped into the room, his boots clicking softly against the floor as he crossed to her. "You wound me, love," he said, dramatically clutching his chest. "I thought my braidin' skills were top-tier."
"They're passable," she said, biting back a smile as she turned back to the mirror.
Before she could protest, Harry was behind her, his hands gently brushing hers aside. "Let me fix it."
Estella sighed but didn't stop him as he began undoing the messy braid, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he worked through the tangles. She glanced at his reflection in the mirror, her heart doing that annoying fluttery thing again.
"You're way too good at this," she said, trying to sound casual.
"Pirate life, pixie. You learn all sorts of skills," he said, his tone teasing. "Though I gotta admit, I like doin' this for you."
Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away. "You're such a sap."
Harry grinned, tying off the braid with a small ribbon he'd pulled from his pocket. "Only for you."
Before she could respond, he turned her around to face him, his eyes meeting hers. The air between them shifted, the playful banter giving way to something deeper. Slowly, Harry leaned in, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.
Estella's breath caught as his lips brushed against hers, soft and lingering, sending a wave of warmth through her. She kissed him back, her hands resting lightly on his chest.
When they finally pulled apart, she blinked up at him, her mind spinning.
"What are we doing, Harry?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Exactly what we want," he said simply, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Nothin' more, nothin' less."
Estella frowned slightly, stepping back. "But... what does that mean? Are weâ?"
"Don't need labels, pixie," Harry interrupted, his tone soft but firm. "It's just us. Whatever this is, it's ours. No one else gets to define it."
Her heart ached at his words, a mix of frustration and understanding swirling in her chest. "That's not very clear," she muttered.
Harry smirked. "Life's not clear, love. But I know one thingâI'm not lettin' you go."
Before she could respond, Harry turned and grabbed her coat from the bed, holding it out to her. "C'mon. Breakfast isn't gonna cook itself."
Throughout the morning, Harry's behavior became... strange.
He started grabbing things from the high shelves in the galley before she could even ask, casually handing them to her with a wink. When she began slicing vegetables for lunch, he took the knife from her hands and started cutting them himself.
"I'm perfectly capable of cutting a carrot, Harry," she said, crossing her arms as she watched him.
"Not as fast as me," he replied, not even looking up. "Don't want you cuttin' those pretty fingers."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the warmth blooming in her chest.
Later, as she folded some of her clothes in the cabin, Harry walked in, took the shirt from her hands, and started folding it himself.
"What are you doing?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Helpin'," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"You never help."
"Guess I'm feelin' generous today."
Estella stared at him, her lips parting slightly. "Are you... okay? Did you hit your head?"
Harry chuckled, finishing the pile and setting it neatly on the bed. "You're hard to impress, pixie."
"I'm not used to you being..." She gestured vaguely. "Like this."
"Like what?"
"Boyfriend material."
Harry smirked, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. "I told ya, no labels."
"Right," she said, though her cheeks flushed.
But as she looked up at him, her confusion slowly gave way to something softer. Maybe they didn't need labels. Maybe "just us" was enoughâfor now.
The cabin was dark, illuminated only by the faint silver light of the moon filtering through the small porthole. The ship swayed gently with the tide, but sleep refused to come for Estella.
Her eyes fluttered open, and there he wasâher usual sight. Harry lay on his side, his arm slung lazily across her waist as he breathed softly, his bare chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Her cheeks flushed, as they always seemed to when she saw him like this. It wasn't just the fact that he was shirtless, though that didn't helpâit was how peaceful he looked. Vulnerable, even. Gone was the sharp-tongued pirate with his signature eyeliner and cocky grin. In the stillness of the night, Harry Hook was just... Harry.
She sighed quietly, her fingers brushing the edge of the blanket as her thoughts spiraled.
The isolation was starting to wear on her. The same people, the same walls, the same routine. The weight of it all pressed against her chest, making her feel like she couldn't breathe. She itched to go outside, to stand beneath the stars and let the cool night air calm her. And, though she hated to admit it, she craved the numbing sensation that came with a cigarette.
Her gaze shifted to Harry's face, and her stomach twisted. She could practically see the disappointed glare in his eyes, the way his lips would press into a thin line if he caught her. It wasn't just about his angerâit was about the hurt she knew he'd feel.
Her hand reached up to brush a tear from her cheek, but the small sniffle betrayed her.
"Pixie?"
His voice was low and raspy from sleep, making her heart skip. She looked down to find Harry blinking up at her, his blue eyes hazy but concerned.
"Sorry," she whispered, shaking her head. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Harry propped himself up on one elbow, his brows knitting together. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, though her trembling voice gave her away.
Harry tilted his head, his hand moving to gently cup her cheek. "Don't lie to me, Stella. Talk to me."
She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. "I... I just feel restless. Like I need to get out of here. It's stupid."
"It's not stupid," Harry said softly, his thumb brushing away another stray tear. "This placeâthis lifeâit's enough to drive anyone mad."
Estella let out a shaky laugh, her eyes meeting his. "I thought about sneaking out to smoke," she admitted quietly. "But then I thought about how disappointed you'd be, and I... I couldn't do it."
Harry's lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it melted into something softer. "Pixie..."
He pulled her into his arms without a second thought, his hand cradling the back of her head as he held her close. "I'm proud of you," he murmured into her hair.
Her breath hitched, and she buried her face in his chest, letting his warmth and steady heartbeat calm her. "I'm trying, Harry. I really am. But it's hard."
"I know," he said, his voice steady and soothing. "But you don't have to go through it alone. You've got me, yeah? No matter what."
She pulled back slightly to look up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Even when I'm a mess?"
"Especially when you're a mess," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You're my mess, pixie."
Her cheeks flushed, and for the first time that night, she felt a flicker of light in the darkness.
Harry brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering for a moment. "You're stronger than you think, Stella. Don't let this place beat you."
Her chest tightened at his words, and she gave him a small nod. "Thank you," she whispered.
Harry smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead before pulling her back into his arms. "Now get some sleep," he said, his tone teasing but gentle.
As she curled into his side, her head resting on his chest, Estella felt the weight of her worries begin to lift. She didn't need the cigarette or the solitude of the night. She had Harry, and that was enough.
Within minutes, she was asleep, her breathing steady and even. Harry stayed awake a little longer, his hand brushing softly over her hair as he stared at the ceiling.
"You've got me, pixie," he murmured to the quiet room, his voice barely audible. "Always."