Pistols and Poisons

Summary: Mistaken for the bride of the Prince of Auradon, Evie finds herself kidnapped by the crew of The Rising Tide and its notorious Captain, Harry Hook. Despite the dangers, Evie is determined to escape and warn her friend of the pirate's plot. Historical AU.

Warnings: Slight violence, such as fighting. Mild swearing - Harry's fault. Some death (not main characters) and mentions of blood.

Author's Notes: Hey Hevie fans! Sorry, I've not updated or published much hevie of late, life got pretty hectic and I just couldn't write. Since it's been quite a few months since I've been on , all my saved documents with story notes and stuff that I had saved here got deleted. This includes some of my story notes/work for other hevie stories that I've published. It'll take me a while to figure out where I am with the other stories, but I haven't abandoned them! I have notes saved on other sites, like Ao3 so it shouldn't be too bad.

About this story. It's a historical AU, set back in the golden age of piracy. Although I'm a history student, do not expect 100% historical accuracy. I'm not reeeeallly brushed up on the time period. I'll start doing some research though! I'm still debating whether or not magic characters will have magic, at this point assume they don't.

Disclaimer: I do not own Descendants or any of the characters. If I did hevie would be canon.

Harry Hook was ten years old when he lost his father and the only home he had ever known.

He stood on the enemies ship in sombre silence, thick metal restraints chaffing his wrists and his ankles. His eyes were glazed over as he watched the crackling fire devour his father's ship, The Jolly Roger. The old ship creaked and groaned as though in pain, like the dying screeches of some titanic beast from the deep. The masts were snapping like twigs, the sails sizzling away inch by inch, the main deck caving in and the outer shell of the vessel bursting and exploding as the flames reached the supply of gunpowder below deck. The night was so dark that one couldn't tell where the sea ended and the sky started. In this endless merging of sea and sky, for once in its life, The Jolly Roger was the brightest thing there was, brighter than even it's Captain's favourite star, the first star to the right.

Fleetingly, Harry's eye's searched the dark waters were the flames light shimmered across the choppy waves. He wondered if any of the crew had escaped the wreckage, forced to dive into the frigid waters. In the entanglement of darkness and waves, he could see no survivors, only burning driftwood and barrels. He wasn't sure if he prefered the thought of them having died at the hands of the enemies pistols and swords and canons, perishing among the flames of their vessel, or drowning in the icy waters when their energy finally relented and they succumbed to Posideon's watery hold.

How could everything go so wrong? His father never lost a fight. Never. Captain James Hook was the most fearsome and crafty pirate to ever sail the seven seas. No one could outsmart or beat him. He was a genius when it came to picking his battles. And yet... this time he had been wrong.

"What'll we do with the boy, Sir?" a grave voice whispered behind him, one of the gits of the enemy ship who had hauled him out of the water.

"He's a pirate. We'll do to him what we do to all pirates," another man's voice replied. His voice was calm and neutral, as though commenting on something as trivial and obvious as the weather.

"He's a child, Lord Beckett! How can we-"

"A pirates a pirate no matter what age they are. It'll send a message to all out there that ever even think to attack a ship of Queen Grinhilda!"

Queen Grinhilda? Was that who owned the ship? Harry paled, finding it hard to swallow. What could have possessed his father to think that this was a good idea? That wretched Queen's ships were infamous for being heavily armed and manned by the Navy's finest elite. Going against them was suicide! No matter how hard times were for pirates, the Queen's ship's were not an option to target. He may only be a cabin boy, but even he knew that! No matter how good a pirate his father was, even he couldn't have gone up against something like this.

Someone grabbed Harry by the scruff of his white shirt and threw him to his knees. He landed in front of another man. Harry grunted, glaring up at the older sailor. He seemed to be the captain, Lord Beckett the other man had addressed him as. He was tall and imposing, wearing a fancy blue suit and a ridiculous white wig under his hat. Harry knew the man looking down his nose at him had to be one of those snobby rich folks, one who had life handed to them on a silver platter. He most likely only became captain thanks to his family connections, probably hadn't earned the right like his father had.

"You young Sir, are guilty of piracy and attacking a vessel of Queen Grinhilda, an act otherwise known as treason. Therefore, it is convenient upon me to carry out a suitable justice. The Queen has decreed that all pirates must be killed on sight. In the name of her Majesty, Queen Grinhilda, I, Lord Cutler Beckett, must sentence you to death."

Harry's eyes widened and his chest heaved painfully. He bared his teeth at the man, jumping to his feet and taking a step forward, trying to come across as threateningly as he could. He doubted it did much good. He was only a small child, barely reaching the height of Beckett's waist. His clothes were dirty and drenched, his long hair plastered messily to his face. He was also chained and unarmed. What threat could he possibly be? Despite this, Harry couldn't help but try and square up to the Lord, his temper always getting the better of him.

"Ye bast-"

Harry's curse at the Lord was interrupted when another sailor slapped him across the head, knocking him to the deck. Harry's glare turned murderous, his teeth clenched and lips pulled back in a snarl. With what little strength he had left, Harry pushed himself to his feet again and lunged for the Lord. His chains rattled as two sailors grabbed them, harshly pulling him away and forcing him to his knees again.

Damn it, Harry cursed, wincing when the sailors grabbed him by his arms. Their grips were painful, their nails digging painfully into his skin.

"You'll show Lord Beckett the respect he deserves, boy!" one of the sailor's holding him back hissed.

As the Lord stepped closer Harry spat at his feet.

There's all the respect ye deserve, Harry thought bitterly, his eyes trained on the man before him.

"Poor show young man, try and die with a little dignity," Lord Beckett said, rolling his eyes before loading his pistol.

It was seeing the pistol, glistening in the light of the fire and moon, that brought the reality of the situation crashing down on Harry like a freak wave. He was unarmed, chained, surrounded, and completely outmatched. He was a lone child trapped on the deck of his father and crewmates' killers, nowhere to flee, no land nearby only endless sea.

He was done for.

Harry took in a deep breath, closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and waited. What else could he do? He suppressed the shudder that begged to ripple through him and denied the tears gathering in his eyes to spill. He would not appear any weaker than he already did. He would die a man like his father had.

Beckett began muttering something to one of his underlings, not at all seeming bothered by the fact he was about to end a young boy's life before it had even begun. If Harry's eyes had been open to see Beckett's nonchalant attitude, it would have rekindled his anger tenfold. Instead, Harry resigned to his bitter fate, trying to clutch on to whatever dignity remained within him.

It was a strangely humbling experience, awaiting death.

All his senses seemed to heighten, as though allowing him to savour life's caresses on his body one final time. He could feel the wind ruffling his hair and his clothes, his tattered rags scratching against his skin. He could feel the grains and splinters of the wooden floor digging into his knees and lower legs, his nails digging sharply into the palms of his fisted hands. Around him, he could hear the billowing of the sails, the swaying of ropes, the rattle of metal and sloshing of the sea against the ship's haul. Finally, he heard the trigger of a pistol being drawn back, the sound of his executioner's boots on the creaking boards as he stepped closer to him and-

A scream sliced through the air, high-pitched and feminine. Harry jumped at the ear-piercing sound, his eyes flying open, much like the startled adults around him who all turned to the source. Light footsteps pattered against the wet floorboard, men gasping and moving aside as something fought its way through their legs. Before Harry could figure out what it was, his vision was consumed by blue. Something threw itself at him, warm arms hidden under swaths of frilly fabric wrapping around his neck, almost choking him.

It took him a moment to understand that it was a girl, perhaps a little younger than him. She had thrown her body over him, her arms pulling him tightly to her. She was shielding him, he realised. He could see the man with the pistol lower it, a look of panic on his face at having been aiming it at the young girl for even a moment.

"You can't... you can't k-kill him, Lord Beckett," the girl said between sobs.

"My lady, you need to get out of the way," Mr Beckett said slowly, emphasising each word so as not to be misunderstood. "That boy is a pirate! And the law states-"

"How do you know he's a pirate?" the girl cried, looking over her shoulder to glare at the man. "He might have been held captured by the pirates! He could have been a slave! A prisoner! You can't hold that against him! You were being held captives, right?"

Harry swallowed, licking his lips as he tried to conjure an answer to the girl's question. He had never been so far away from his father or the crew. Without them, he felt his throat constrict and confidence dwindle. He didn't trust his voice to weave a convincing lie, so he nodded instead.

"See! You can't kill him!"

"My Lady," Lord Beckett said sternly. "The boy is lying-"

"No! If you want to kill him then you have to kill me too! Explain that to my mother!" the girl shouted fiercely.

Whoever the girl's mother was, she must have been important or powerful as the man took a step back, lowering his weapon. He looked afraid, the very thought of the girl's mother snatching away his resolve.

"Alright, Lady Evie. We won't kill him, but he will have to be detained. For the crew's protection. It's protocall that he be subject to some... questioning," Lord Beckett said carefully as he tried to appease the girl. "Mr Lunkin, please take our... guest to the brig."

"No! I don't trust you!" the girl - Evie, Beckett had called her - shrieked, tightening her grip around Harry's neck.

Smart girl. Despite his tender age, Harry was not naive enough to believe Beckett's words either. He would wait until the girl was gone, safely tucked away from the ugly reality she had to be shielded from, then they would kill him. The girl would be known the wiser. A spark of envy stabbed his gut. No one had ever tried to shy him away from the reality of life. His innocence to the cruelty of the world never sheltered. Who was this girl to be protected so?

"He's coming with me! He can be my playmate for the journey!"

"My Lady, I must insist-"

"Lord Beckett, you need not worry yourself," a voice as sweet as sugar called out. "My little sister could use the company. Seldom does she get to be around children her own age."

Mummers erupted in the crowd of men, many of them bowing their heads and clearing a path for the newcomer. Harry saw a beautiful woman emerge at the top of the stairs leading to the sterncastle. She was dressed in a lovely flowing gown of blue and yellow, a rosy cape draped around her shoulders. Her hair was as black as ebony, her skin as pale as snow and a face worthy to be likened to an angel. Harry felt like he had been punched in the gut. There was no mistaking who this woman was. It was one of Queen Grimhilda's daughters, Princess Snow White.

"Evie, let the poor boy go, he's turning blue," Snow White said with a small smile. "No harm will come to him, you have my word."

Evie pulled back, her hazel eyes meeting Harry's. Momentarily, Harry wondered how the heavens were managing missing so many angels. Evie was just as pretty as Snow White, with a sweet and gentle face. Evie's hair fell to her shoulders in waves of black and although it may have only been a trick of the light, it seemed like she had glimmers of blue highlights. Her eyes were dark, hazel in colour and currently lined with a soft veil of unshed tears. There was a blush on her cheeks, tear trails staining the length of them.

Little sister, that's what Snow White had called this girl. Meaning this was the younger Princess. The only biological child of Queen Grimhilda.

"Evie, could you please take the boy to our cabin? He looks in awful need of some rest," Snow White said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

She offered a gentle smile to Harry, one that made his heart flutter and nerves calm down. With not one but two princesses on his side, there was a chance he would make it out of this terrible night alive.

Evie nodded, grabbing Harry's hand and giving him a comforting smile. She squeezed his hand and began pulling him through the crowd of sailors. The men all looked at him through judging, narrowed eyes. There was nothing but hatred for him there. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on the princess's hand.

Behind him, he could hear Snow White's voice turn more serious, now that he and the young girl were almost out of ear-shot. Beckett was no doubt trying to persuade the older Princess against their current actions, reminding her that the young boy they had just taken into their charge was a pirate. Harry glanced behind him, seeing the older princess standing poised, regal and stern. He prayed to any Gods listening that she would be able to convince the Lord not to kill him.

He had to live. Only moments before he had been ready to accept his end, but now he couldn't. Not now that two angels had blessed him with mercy, had let him continue tasting life when he had been utterly convinced he was a breath away from Davy Jone's locker. He had to live. He wanted to live. He wanted to sail the seas. To live up to the Hook name. And most importantly, he wanted to avenge his father and his crew.

He had to live. No matter what.

Ten years later.

"Cap'n! We've spotted the Prince's ship! On the Starboard side!"

Captain Harry Hook glanced to starboard, sunlight filtering away the shadows cast by his hat as he titled his head up. He spun the ship's wheel, changing his ship's heading. Dead ahead of them, growing from a mere dot on the horizon as they sped along the waves, was his target.

The Enchanted Rose. One of the most prized gems of the royal family of Auradon, a ridiculously lavish ship that shamefully seldom got to feel the lick of the waves at its haul, as it was reserved only for special occasions. Special occasions like a royal wedding.

And what a glorious day it was a for a wedding! There was not a cloud in the sky and the sun was beating down heavily on the crew of The Rising Tide's sweaty skins. Harry grinned, watching as waves crashed against the side of his ship, spraying him and his crew, offering them a brief refreshment for their warm bodies. The wind whipped against him, causing his signature red cloak to billow around him.

"Full sails, lads! And remember the plan!" Harry called out.

A chorus of aye's resounded across the main deck, men scurrying to their positions. Some climbed the shrouds, others readied the canons while others armed themselves with guns and swords.

Ten years he had been waiting for this day. Finally, he could almost taste his revenge.

Author's Notes: We'll see more of the past connection between Evie and Harry in the future. Please let me know what you think! :D

For anyone who likes listening to music while reading. First scene: Pirates of the Caribean - Soundtrack 1 - Fog Bound. Second scene: Sinbad soundtrack, song 'surfing'.