Since they made Gil a character on fan fiction... a multi-chapter I can start but know I won't finish. So yippee!

Warning: rated T for child abuse and my OT3. Might be other stuff later.

UPDATE: I had to fix the timeline, because it's supposed to be Pre-Descendants, but I wrote about the Lost Revenge, which is after the movie.

Gil woke up in a really, really bad mood. It had been another bad night. Everyone knew that Captain Hook and Ursula were terrible to their kids, but they didn't know anything about Gaston. Not to mention Junior and Bronze as well.

"Not even worthy of the Gaston name."

Those were always the words that cut deep. Literally, as he stared at his wrist, the scars just covered by his gloves. He knew sometime he'd have to switch to long sleeves like Harry and Uma, but he was trying to hold out as long as possible. He had to be the light, funny, dumb guy for Harry's, Uma's, and his sake.

He knew Mal and her gang were said to have it bad, but he also knew that it was nothing close to the truth. Maleficent, Jafar, Evil Queen and Cruella De Vil only gave verbal abuse. They were obsessed with an heir to rule over Auradon.

Ursula didn't care about that. She wanted to rule herself. An heir didn't matter. So Uma wore long sleeves to cover scars, some little round circles and some longer lines from tentacles. She smirked her way out of it, acting perfectly. She took care of the little ones in ways her mother couldn't even dream about. Her role as a caring mother had spread far, and all of the villains children loved her (with an exception of Mal's gang) and gave smiles to her to help brighten her day. With all that, she seemed to be fine, and mostly, she was.

Harry was insane. There was no questioning it. Many nights Captain Hook would rant on how he was worthless and nothing compared to (his oh so evil daughter) Harriet, the eldest. Many times he'd tried to cut off his hand, Gil and Uma stopping him every time. Hook and sword scars lined his arms and back, most from his father but a few self-inflicted. So Uma tries to show affection to him, and Gil blabbers on whatever's on his mind. Usually he talks about 'Shrimpy' and thought Uma hates it, they know it helps Harry.

Gil, however, was one of those mysterious types. Not even Uma and Harry knew much about. He never talked about his personal life and would always switch topics when the subject came up.

But as he watched the sunrise, he only thought about how long it would be before they find out what happens in his house.

The truth was that every day his father would yell about why he couldn't just die and leave them alone. His brothers would beat him up. His room was in the basement with a barred window and a carpet. He ate scraps of scraps, not getting nearly anything to eat most nights. Almost all the time he was starving, more than a normal Isle citizen. And emotion abuse was Bronze's specialty. Gil was more broken than Harry, but he hid it.

Hid it very well.

Gil stretched, wincing as he realized he was in a small pool of blood. The door swung open to reveal Junior and Bronze. Pure fear clouded the youngest brother's eyes.

"Well, well, the runt's awake," Bronze stated thoughtfully. Runt. They didn't even say Gil's name. Because, technically, he didn't have one.

Gil was what he called himself. Because he was like a fish out of water. Watching everyone else breath while he was slowly dying. He didn't even have the self-esteem to give himself a better name.

But no one called him Gil. Not even Harry and Uma. They didn't know his name, and they barely relied on him. He was just there, in the background, meant to protect the important ones.

"You need to stop being such a bother to Dad, because you're nothing, runt," Junior sneered.

Gil's eyes were downcast as he felt tears escape. His brothers smiled. "You're very lucky, already broke from last night. We could give some sympathy. Do you deserve it?"

"No," Gil murmured, staring at his hands as tears spilled.

"How right you are," the twins replied in unison before starting the 'Morning Routine.'

The second Junior left, Gil was shaking. Hiccuping sobs were heard as he kneeled in a nice large pool of blood. Bronze stared down at his younger brother. Gil's sobs slowly increased. Bronze was scary when they were alone.

"Don't speak a word about this to anyone," Bronze hissed, but there was no hostility backed in his voice. Bronze kneeled down and lowered his voice. "I'll save you something for breakfast. I've tried to get Junior to see, but he's in control of me. I'm sorry, Gil." Bronze watched as his little brother's head shoot up at the name. Gaston the Third then pulled Gil into a gentle hug before getting up to leave.

Gil blinked. Tears of relief flooded his eyes as he rushed to the first aid kit to patch up his wounds and pulled on clothes for the day to hide the bandages.

"KID GET UP HERE NOW!" Gil whimpered as he scrambled up the stairs at his father's call. Gaston was in his 'best' mood in the morning, when he was just awake. However, getting him mad would only result in... Gil barely wanted to think about the part as he rubbed a small circular dent on his arm.

When he was upstairs, Gaston cleaned off his crossbow, eyeing Gil. "Cook breakfast," he said simply. Gil gulped and nodded, walking into the kitchen.

"FASTER!" Gaston roared, shooting an arrow. Gil flinched as it whizzed past his ear. He silently thanked that his father was a professional archer. He scurried into the kitchen, despite the pain jolting though his legs from the morning. Gil grabbed as many eggs as he could from the broken-down-fridge, and some stale bread for toast. He quickly made enough for his father and brothers, taking it out to them.

Gaston took one look at the food and scoffed. "This is terrible! Absolutely disgusting! How old is this?!"

"We're on the Isle," Gil whispered meekly, "there's nothing better."

"DID YOU TALK BACK?!" His father shouted.

Gil stared at Bronze hopefully, but the boy only snickered. His eyes teared up as he realized that the whole time the older boy was just messing with his emotions. He didn't really have any sympathy.

Gaston took the moment to shoot his crossbow. Gil screamed when it hit right above his wrist. Again, Gaston was professional, so it didn't do and major damage, but it still hurt. Really badly.

"SHUT UP AND GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Gaston yelled. Gil flinched and nodded, running as fast as his legs could take him outside.

As soon as he was safely away from his family, he gritted his teeth and pulled out the arrow. Another scream followed as he ripped off his bandanna and pressed it on the wound. More tears fell down his face as he huddled in a small ball for about five minutes.

"Hey." Gil's head shot up to see Uma. Her compassionate face that Gil loved so much. He wanted nothing more than run into her arms and beg for her affection, something to make his life a little better. But he had to stay fine. So he wiped at his face and smiled.

"Hey, Shrimpy," he replied cheerfully, giving into that dumb mode. Uma's eyes narrowed. She may be a good actor but Gil was better.

Or so he thought.

"Don't pull that on me. Why were you crying? And why were you bleeding?" Gil was a little shocked Uma cared so much.

"Nothin'," he said, averting his gaze and standing up.

Uma steadied him and stared at his with eyes so sharp the truth nearly forced it's way upon his tongue. "Don't lie to me, Gil."

Her heart broke on Gil's shocked look and the words that followed. "You... know my name?" He asked.

"Yes, I do, and it's a beautiful name," Uma replied, trying to smile. "While people can't breath underwater, you can, because you're special."

Tears filled his eyes as he looked away. "I actually named myself that for the opposite reason."

Uma tried to form a coherent sentance on her tongue to help Gil, but nothing worked. "Let's get back to the shop. Harry is probably waiting."

Close enough. Uma smiled as the two walked back to her mom's Fish and Chips ship, but then frowned.

He completely ignored my question.

Whoa! First chapter done! Hopefully I can actually write this thing... but reviews always help =•.•=