Descendants- a retelling

Gisa

Gisa planted her feet firmly on the ground, cracking her knuckles. She grinned, tying her fading purple hair into a tight bun. Her opponent didn't return her smirk. Instead he had the audacity to look bored. His muscular chest heaved in a heavy breath as he waited for the match to begin. Gisa felt no shame, running her gaze up and down him. He was beautiful. It was actually a shame she was about to beat the living daylights out of him. Fourth and final match of the day.

The ringmaster leading her match signaled the beginning. She and the young man circled a few times. A breeze blew by, drying the sweat gathering on Gisa. She shouldn't have taken her shirt off for this match. The dying day was growing cool and her sports bra offered little cover. Shaking her head, she dodged her opponent's first charge. He was definitely right handed. He led with his left foot and right arm. Interesting.

Gisa just barely ducked under his swift kick, observing as much as she could. She was much smaller than him. At least a foot shorter and most likely a hundred pounds lighter. If she wasn't smart in this fight, he'd pummel her. He still didn't leave anything open, guarding himself while he attacked. She had outlasted everyone she'd been unable to beat. It was no fun for the crowds however.

He tried to kick her, his foot coming up short as she jumped back. She tried to shove him over, pushing against his outstretched leg. His right leg was firmly planted behind him, balancing him perfectly. Gisa almost groaned in frustration. She could dodge forever, but she was paid for a show, not this… idle bantering, trading of blows.

Her opponent seemed as frustrated as she was, his neat brows knitted into a kindled frown. His brown eyes conveyed anger. He obviously wasn't livid, his movements were too deliberate and focused. Perhaps changing that would be the key to this fight. The ring was usually packed with spectators for her matches. She always put up a good show. But the crowds were uninterested, some even leaving.

Gisa managed to land a punch or two on his ribcage, too short for him to catch. When she was closer to him it was harder for him to maneuver himself to get her. His knees were his only tool.

They were effective too. Gisa thought as she took one to the jaw. She tasted blood, scowling. If he bruised her too badly, she'd personally hunt him down. But— she noticed how his arms raised as he used his knee, leaving his sides exposed.

Gisa rolled out of the way as he launched himself at her. He was faster than she'd expected. She took in a deep breath, and jumped at him, sending a few fast punches towards them. He blocked them with equal agility. But she'd counted on that. She also counted on his next attack.

His knee rose up to land another blow but Gisa twisted away, driving her foot into his ribs as hard as she could manage without throwing herself off balance. She swore she heard the rib crack. A few people cheered; the crowd started drawing nearer, gathering again. Gisa rolled her shoulders. He stumbled back a second, giving her the opening she needed. He threw his hands up in a sloppy defense. She shot directly through them, delivering a few swift punches to his throat. Just like a fool, he blindly tried to grab at her as he gasped for air, unable to shout while she jumped back.

Before he could recover from his stupid attempt to grab her, she jumped, kicking him directly in the stomach. Finally he hit the ground. The cheers from the crowd sounded. Gisa smirked. Now the show could begin. She was sure the owner would dock some of her pay for the rough start.

Gisa continued to slowly disable him as his defenses became weaker and weaker. He still held on longer than most. After one of the longest matches she'd ever had, she could admit she was shocked as he stood up again. Blood streamed from his nose, his left shoulder was definitely out of socket, hanging, it appeared, from just skin. He spat on the ground, using his working hand to wipe his face. He smeared the blood from his nose across his face, but stopped the dripping. His eyes still gleamed dangerously. Wildly. Good. That was what Gisa wanted anyway.

Last fight of the day, she chanted in her head. Let things get a little wild. She'd let him keep fighting, even if she itched to knock him down where he stood. The sun was setting, laying an orange glow across their pit. It gleamed off of her opponent's toned, muscled body. She smirked, taking in his heaving chest, broad, tanned… she took a leap towards him, ducking a blow for her head and planted a foot in his stomach. He stumbled back again, hitting the waist high cement sides. His injured arm swung loosely.

That, Gisa chuckled to herself, would be a very painful injury to fix. Quick, but painful. The crowds still cheered as she toyed with him, ducking every one of his blows. She even had the guts to drape his wounded arm across her shoulders and pretend to swoon, before his fist slammed into her shoulder. She grunted, but still managed to laugh it off. She'd just finish him off.

She ducked around him a few times, dodging a kick, and setting him off balance. Gisa twisted to the side once more as he tried to fling an elbow at her. Finally she laughed. "I tire of playing with you." With a simper, she cocked her foot back and swung it directly into his temple. He fell to the sandy floor and didn't rise.

The crowd died into the background as Gisa vaulted out of the pit and wove through the packed crowd loftily to where Emma was waiting at the bar. Gisa rolled her eyes upon finding the strawberry blonde perched in the lap of a half-drunk young man. He shyly played with a strand of her loose hair. Emma leaned to whisper something in the man's ear. His face flushed, and his mouth gaped slightly. With a lightning fast movement, Emma grabbed his shirt collar, pulling the man towards her where their lips met.

Gisa folded her arms with a cough as she watched Emma play around with him. "E," she said louder. "We have things to do."

Emma turned to her, the curls bouncing as she sent her a pout, "But I 'm with someone here." Still, she jumped away from the man who hadn't taken his eyes from her. "Well, whatever, he isn't very good at kissing anyway."

Gisa sighed as she and Emma strode towards the other side of the Pitts. The biggest establishment on the island. An enormous bar, fighting pits, men and women vying for people to take them home… Gisa admitted it was a godless place, but it was also the main source of her income. Emma made fair coin here as well. She never went home with the men she was spotted with all over the Pitts, but with one wink she still had men on their knees.

Gisa found Cameron lazily leaning against the wall, her knives, belt, shirt and coat piled on the floor beside him. All the things she couldn't take into the pit. Aside from her shirt of course, but that usually got in the way. He was twisting one of her daggers in his hands.

"Nothing interesting to report, Ron?" Gisa slid the curved knives into her belt, then threw her shirt and jacket back on.

"Not unless you want something to be." He smirked at her.

Gisa just sent a well-placed glare. "That guy I faced in the pits. Did either of you see him? Know who he is?" Gisa surveyed the open-aired monstrosity of a building she was in, teeming with wild people. The electric lights slowly popped on with incessant buzzing. Night time entertainment was coming out.

"Considering what you did to him," said a voice from the shadows, "I'd say he's probably in the infirmary."

Gisa turned in the direction with a half laugh. Camden grinned at her. Positively feral. She returned it. Her lover of seven months, and second only to her in her growing gang. They controlled nearly half the island's territory at this point. "I want him in the gang. He put up a fight when he—"

"Already got you." Camden said, silencing her with a gentle kiss, snaking an arm around her shoulders. "His name is Jamison. He's seventeen. Dude doesn't belong to any gang. He's never been to the Pitts before. He's a fighter for Kim Shan now. He used to fight in the Spokes."

Gisa snorted, almost indignant. She was almost beaten by someone from the Spokes? That hole in the wall backwater... a poor little establishment. They had two rings and barely filled their schedules every night. Their pay was scraps in comparison to what she could earn here. If he was that good… why wasn't he fighting here in the first place? Kim Shan was an excellent fighter, well versed in the art of brutality, and he owned a fair amount of fighters in The Pitts. Had he struck a bargain with Jamison somehow? Why had Jamison not fought here before? He didn't seem like the cowards who fought in meek establishments for fear of being beaten. Besides, he'd taken all of her hits without so much as shouting or crying like some of her opponents did.

"Well I know where the infirmary is." Emma said, tired of the silence. "There was this man that I met who worked there and he—"

"Okay so take us." Gisa said, gesturing to Emma who had begun to twirl her hair around her finger, swaying side to side with a half smile on her pink lips. "And I've heard the story of this guy six times already." With a pointed look, Emma gave her a filthy gesture but strode on, making Gisa laugh. Emma was a flirt, but unlike everyone else in this place, she usually was a sweet little thing, doe eyes, long lashes, always smiling. Foul words were beneath her, was what she always said.

The man she'd met in the infirmary from her story had turned out to be a real pain as well. If Gisa hadn't been there… Her mind flashed to where Emma had been flat on her back, the knife from her hand across the room… Emma should have known better than to flirt with a ruthless pit fighter like that, but she must have felt pity for the young man, beaten senseless for days.

As the four of them shoved through the crowd, a low doorway stooped before them, made from twisted iron, splattered with ill-made graffiti. Gisa scowled as Ron remarked with disgust, "If you're gonna deface something, at least let someone with talent do it." The scrawled lines formed a disproportionate dinosaur, teeth gripping another mess of painted shapes. Ron slung his backpack off of his shoulders, setting it to the ground with a thunk. He pulled out a green can of paint and shook it a few times.

"Ronny, people are gonna see you. Lord Solam had someone beaten bloody for defacing his office." Emma said, adjusting the strapless top she had on. "I'd hate to see it be you. You have such a cute face. Wouldn't want to ruin that, would we?" Her grin was anything but innocent under the flickering and dim yellow lights.

"First off, it's Ron, not Ronny, and secondly, look at this garbage! I'll be doing him a favor." Ron shook the can again with a mischievous smile, before painting his piece over the existing one.

"Whatever." Emma said, leading Gisa and Camden into the darkened doorway. "It's your funeral. Which I wouldn't attend. Black is so dreary. It really isn't my color," Gisa cackled at Ron's scowl, following Emma into the infirmary.

She pushed open the door. The infirmary was hardly less rowdy than the actual pits it seemed. The cots were lining the walls of the rectangular rooms and forming a middle row, a couple kids jumping from bed to bed shouting and jeering when someone tried to stop them. "Hey kids!" She called the two boys closest. They met her eyes, their faces leeching. Good. They knew who she was. "Beat it." They looked towards each other hesitantly. "Beat it, or I'll beat you." she snarled, raising a hand to unzip her leather jacket. They bounded away as fast as jackrabbits.

"Cranky today are we?" Camden pinched her suggestively with a smirk. She swatted at him with a furrowed brow.

"No, I just need to meet this guy and if they were here causing this ruckus, I couldn't think straight." She marched past a man in a white apron who paid her no heed, to a cot at the very end of the dim room where her previous opponent sat up, his arm back in its socket.

"Did you scream when they put it back in?" she smirked, folding her arms.

He looked up at her, his brown hair falling across his face. He brushed it off with his now uninjured arm. "Nah, it happens all the time. Good as new.'' He had a band of white tape across his nose. Broken. Purple bruises littered his exposed chest, neck and face. She fought the urge to look longer at them. She'd never truly got to see the aftermath she wreaked on her opponents before. "Something you wanted?" He asked, his voice turning colder.

Though she'd just fought… she was itching for a fight without the rules. Something she could truly work her frustration out on. Emma touched her arm with frigid fingers reminding her where they were. "You're good." Gisa ground out reluctantly. "Too good to have fought in the Spokes your entire career. That's a crappy excuse for an establishment."

He stood up from the cot, towering over her. "Because I paid off a debt." He said baldly. "My father gambled seven years ago and lost badly. They were going to beat him and chuck his body in the river but he managed to strike a bargain with them. He sold me to their pits for seven years." Darkness rippled in his deep brown eyes. "And his debt is paid." He growled. "The money is now mine to make."

Gisa nodded, her lips pursing. Lots of people sold children for debts. His story was probably true, "I have a proposition for you." he raised an eyebrow. With a flick of her wrist she pulled a dagger from her sleeve, pointing the tip at his throat. "I'm assuming you don't know who I am?"

"Besides a b—"

"Watch the language, wouldn't want to pull the arm out again would we?" she said sweetly, twisting his arm. He was much taller, much bigger and much stronger but she could still bring him down. "I am not only a pit fighter and a daughter of the most powerful enchantress, but the leader of the largest gang on this island. And I want you in it."

"What do I get?" He asked, looking down at her. Reckless. Fearless. She didn't know if that made him stupid or brave when he must have known she could skin him alive right here. She attempted to stare him down, her green eyes almost glowing as they met his. He raised an eyebrow. "Come on. You're the leader of a gang?" she could have sworn that laughter danced in his eyes. "You're a good fighter, great even. You have a lot of skills." He looked her up and down. "But you're... tiny."

Red flashed in the corners of her vision. She let the point of the blade pierce his skin ever so slightly. "What does size have to do with it?" She hissed "Sometimes it has to do with brains; intelligence! And from your questions and pushing, I'm beginning to think that yours may be very very small." Definitely stupid, not brave.

He chuckled humorlessly and tried to shake her from where she held one of his arms, but she held firm. He used his other arm to lower the blade from his throat. She allowed him to, unsure if she could hold it there any longer without shoving it further. She was in a mood today. Light glinted on her blade as she sheathed it. "Look, I just got my freedom from that other place," he sighed, breaking first. "I don't want to be tied to another operation."

This time Ron, who had joined them a moment before, inhaled a sharp breath. "It's not a chain to be tied to." he said, his voice low. "It's a brotherhood, sisterhood. We stick up for each other and protect each other. We rule the territory around here and say what is right and what is wrong. We don't just do whatever we please. We aren't ruthless. We tell everyone when a rule changes. We give them notices. When someone breaks a law, we give them warnings. We aren't brutal. We've all suffered enough to want it to end. To want it to stop. This place is hell on earth. Forgive us for trying to give you a spot in our salvation." He was younger, but Ron had known more pain than most of them. He earned his spot in the gang more than most. "Besides, the king doesn't care about this place. We need some sort of rules here. Nobody follows the king's laws."

Jamison seemed to get it.

"Gangs are ruthless though. Kira's gang owned the turf where I fought before. That was—"

"Kira is a self-centered, power-hungry witch." Gisa said with a shrug. "We were childhood friends for a while. One day she beat me to a pulp one day for no excusable reason. Since then, she's always been trying to best me the only way she knows how, brute strength and brutality."

Jamison nodded once. Twice. "Give me a night to decide." he pulled his hair back into a bun, tugging his white shirt over his muscled chest. "I work in the processing warehouse when the shipments from the mainland come in." He started striding out. "I stock shelves. You can find me there" he disappeared through the doorway.

The four walked from the infirmary. How had Jamison not been killed with an attitude like that? Gisa was nearly fuming. If it weren't for Camden's hand on her lower back, guiding her through the drunken and wild crowds she might have started a bar fight. Nobody said a word as they marched through, ignoring the revelry. She needed him in the gang. A guy like that could really be useful. Recently Kira had been too forward in picking on the weaker members of her gang. That would not be forgotten.

"He was cute." said Emma, breaking the silence as they walked out into the cool night. A few drunks stumbled around the darkened streets. She slid a wallet from one of them effortlessly, flipping through it. She frowned. "Nothing really worth taking here." She pulled a few paper bills and coins from it before tossing it behind her.

Gisa turned to kiss Camden goodnight. "You sure I can't convince you to stay the night with me?" He whispered into her neck, holding her close. The moonlight bounced off of Gisa's pale skin, still slightly shimmering with sweat from the heat of the Shafts.

"I wish you could but," she stole another brief kiss, savoring the feel of his hands running through her hair, "I told you, if Emma and I don't get home tonight, our mother is going to strangle us. I haven't been home in three days."

He sighed heavily, his hands moving to rub her back softly. "It is true, I prefer you alive. Can I at least walk you back?"

Gisa stepped back with a glare in his direction. She wished he could. The tall rugged figure with the shifty smile and bedroom eyes. His strong guiding hands. "No you idiot. Mother hates you. You'd be a fool to cross her. You know who taught me what I know, don't you?"

He stepped up towards her, lifting her tiny frame up. Gisa hooked her legs around his waist before his lips met hers again. "I'd let her drive a stake through my heart to spend another night with you." He smirked, "besides, then the council could try her for murder and you'd be free to roam as you wish.

"Hilarious." Gisa said flatly. "The council was set above us and hasn't done a thing in all of my years. I'll see you tomorrow at the meeting." He set her back down on the chipped cobblestone road. Thunder rumbled in the distance. They both glanced to the sky as the clouds slowly approached the sliver of a moon. "Be sure to press Garrison about the missing items from the trove. He did a good job covering his tracks, but Emma got his younger brother to sell him out."

Camden kissed the top of her head. "I'll do it on my way home. Jerry doesn't care what time I come in or out. Goodnight shortie." he laughed as Gisa punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Go home stupid." she said as she returned the insult. But the corners of her mouth quirked upward as he walked away.

She found Emma going through another wallet as they wound through narrow streets, dingy buildings growing closer together. Shredded and filthy awnings hung low over the streets as the two hiked up the wet slippery hill in silence. A few rats skittered across the street, hurtling for the nearest gutter. Emma scowled. "Disgusting creatures."

Gisa couldn't help but agree.

A few people occasionally popped from alleyways, but upon recognizing who she was, they retreated. Those who began to cat-call shut their mouths skittering back to wherever they came from. Gisa sighed, ignoring the homeless people scuttling around trying to find a spare coin. "E, how angry was she when I didn't come home?" She didn't need to give any more explanation. Emma knew they were talking about their mother.

Emma shrugged. "I had to wear a longer skirt, longer sleeves than normal after she took a few blows out on me." Gisa cringed, about to apologize, but Emma continued, "But I have no doubt she's going to do worse to you. Her threats have never been empty." Her throat bobbed. "But I believe staying away any longer would only postpone, if not worsen what she'll do. She has eyes all over, just like you do. She probably knows where you were, even when I wouldn't tell her."

Gisa nodded. "Thank you E, I really don't deserve to have you." Raucous laughter sounded from a nearby tavern.

"We're sisters. I know that, had our roles been switched, you would have done the same." The clouds rolled over the moon just as their mother's house came into view, standing proudly at the end of the street.

It was less a house and more like a manor. It was made of impending stone, chipped in some places, but there was nothing weak about it. It towered at the end of the street. The double doors at the entrance were made of wrought iron. Ironic, as iron was what weakened magic. A burly man at the entrance barely glanced at them as they pushed open one of the doors.

The inside of the house was dark. The stairs to the left wound up to the second floor. Going straight led into the dining room. The kitchen was to the right of the dining room. But at the bottom of the stairs… light leaked from beneath the door by the base of the stairwell. Their mother was most likely in there, counting up her funds again from whatever shady business she was a part of now.

Silent as cats, the two girls mounted the stairs, hands sliding up the wooden banister. The hall upstairs had six rooms. Still, Emma and Gisa shared one. It was safer to stay with someone anyway on the island. Though, nobody would be stupid enough to try and rob this house. Even without her powers their mother was a fearsome opponent. Gisa flicked on the light, a few bulbs whirring to life. Their beds stood side by side, dressers at the foot of each. Like the rest of the house, it was sparsely decorated. They didn't spend enough time at home to bother anyway.

Gisa rummaged through her drawers, searching for nightclothes while Emma threw on a t-shirt and hopped into bed. "Mother will want to see you before you go to sleep. She'll be more upset if she has to drag you out of bed you know." Emma picked up a book beside her bed to read. Everyone expected her to be reading romance novels that sometimes could be found across the island, however, she read something completely different. Gisa looked to see what she was reading this time.

"Circular motion?" Gisa asked, slamming her drawer shut. "What's so interesting about spinning in a circle?" She hung up her leathers in the closet, throwing her knives on their folding table in the middle of the room.

"The physics behind it is fascinating, that's all." Emma replied with a shrug, flipping the page. "Right now I'm reading about centripetal force." She began to prattle on about various equations and applications. Gisa had learned to nod and let her speak at this point.

She only wished she could understand things like that. Emma seemed to have everything that she didn't. She was extremely fair and beautiful and quite ingenious, unlike herself. Gisa had nearly flunked out of every class. Her mother decided she didn't need to waste time on things she couldn't understand. She finished the eighth grade in school before she stopped going altogether. Another pang hit her. Emma would finish school this coming year a whole two years early. There were no universities on the island. She'd have to give up her studies.

Gisa looked in the mirror with a frown, staring at the imperfections dotting her face; at the upturned crooked nose that had been broken one too many times. The only slightly beautiful thing about her was her green eyes, and even then they were rimmed by short and sparse lashes. She glanced over at Emma, her face practically flawless. Not once had she ever complained about a pimple or flakes of dry skin. Her hair fell perfectly without her trying. Whoever Emma's dad was, she must have inherited his good looks. Gisa was almost a spitting image of her mother. She hated her looks even more for that.

She heard her mother before she appeared in the doorway. Emma mouthed good luck before Gisa followed her mother out of the room, down the stairs to where her sprawling office would be. Her mother was silent, her nails clicking on the banister every time she took a step. Gisa squared her shoulders, steeling herself. Her mother had done plenty of wicked things to her before. And Gisa had done way worse things than run off for a few days. Her mind flashed to her mother's creative ways… She should be fine… or she would be eventually.

"Sit." Her mother's only word to her as they entered her study. It was devoid of anything friendly. The desk was carved from hard driftwood, as was the chair she sat in, and Gisa's chair. There was a simple gray rug beneath them. There was one bookshelf behind her mother with more weapons than books.

"Why were you not here the past few days?" her mother leaned toward her. Her all powerful mother who had once been the villain of all villains. Audenzitios. The name others didn't dare to whisper. The towering woman with spiraling horns, a sharp angled face, severe looks, cold words and an even colder heart. Even in her simpler robes she radiated power. The island was designed to mute magic, but it couldn't snuff out the thrum of power emanating from her. Gisa wanted to kick herself for it, but she shuddered as she beheld her mother. All of her previous strength was leached from her.

"I'm sorry," she bowed her head to her mother, her heart beating faster. "I have no excuse."

Her mother's voice cut through the air like a honed blade, "I didn't ask for excuses, I asked what you were doing. Do not deny me the truth."

"I was with my gang the first night. Then I booked a few night time fights. They pay better coin. Then…" Her voice faltered only for a second, "Then I was with Camden."

Her mother's eyes flared, burning with green fire. The only bit of magic she had left. The only bit Gisa could use as well. She summoned her own small power, her eyes glowing, staring into her mother's. A battle of wills. Fire fighting fire. She stared into the hard unforgiving eyes. Eyes of a woman who was no doubt going to thrash her before she left. Her eyes twitched, water coming to them. Her mother's power was stronger, willing her to shut down. Forcing her to give up. It chanted at her, whispering her doom. You're going to lose. Her chest tightened and her breaths came in short pants. Her mother's eyes crinkled at the corners and she smiled wickedly. She'd already won.

Gisa slumped back into the chair, her head pounding. She closed her eyes, focusing on the cool darkness beneath her eyelids. Her mother chirped, "I win." Gisa knew. She always did. She was gifted with far greater power and had many years to Gisa's seventeen. "Look at me." her mother's voice shot through her. Gisa's eyes flew open as her mother grabbed her chin. Hard. Gisa let out a slight squeak in pain, immediately regretting it. "Don't challenge me. All you get is a splitting headache, and give me more of a reason to teach you a lesson."

"Mother I—"

She heard the slap before she felt it, her head whipping to the side. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them back furiously. "I'm not finished." Gisa straightened herself in the chair, staring at the bookshelf behind her mother's head. "I was going to beat the living daylights out of you and then some," Her mother said, fury rippling off of her words in waves. Gisa shivered, daring to look her mother in the eye, "But I received news. An opportunity I had not foreseen. And if I gave you what you deserve..." She clenched her fist as if in emphasis, "They would surely see it and come wondering. Instead…" Her mother opened the drawer of her desk with a creak.

If her mother's hand was held by this… what must be so important? And who would see her? Bruises, scratches, and breaks were commonplace among the island. Her mother read the letter to herself, rubbing the edges of the pages. Gisa scowled when she looked at the envelope… envelopes on the desk. One to her, and one to Emma. Of course her mother would read their mail. She slapped the letter down on the desk. "You are one lucky little wench," she spat.