Chapter Text
“A man always keeps his promises.” That’s what Ozzy’s father taught him.
“A brother must do so even more.” That’s what his ma had taught him.
Being a big brother was no picnic, especially with his stance in their family. Being their father’s bastard son, the man didn’t even know he existed until he was five. But that wasn’t important now, no. What was important to Ozzy now is keeping his promise to his beloved little sister. A good story she demanded and an excellent story she will get, as always.
Sherwin had gone hours ago, having his mom pick him up despite Ozzy’s parents’ offers to drive him home. Something about not wanting to set off any dogs they might have staying over with an unfamiliar car and disturb the neighbors.
Anyway, Ozzy watched from the doorway to his sister’s overly pink painted room as his parents smother their youngest child with affection, a smile on his face. Both men sat on each side of the bed, heads ducking underneath the sheer pink curtains hanging from the ceiling, giggling and whispering like kids at a sleepover. He couldn’t help the feeling of envy that grabbed him by the throat, how differently he grew up compared to her.
The teen shook his head, giving a loud cough to interrupt the continuous “good nights” and “sweet dreams.”
“Is it my turn yet?” He asked, forcing the teasing tone in his voice. “I did promise the princess the best bedtime story.”
Damien and Oliver smiled at the teen. Storytime was sacred between the two siblings, ever since they brought Isabel home. Ozzy would tell her stories, sometimes from books, most times he made them up, Isabel enjoyed every bit of it.
They each kiss Isabel one last time before standing up from the salmon pink bedding.
“Sweet dreams, princesa. ” Oliver murmured into her hair. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night Papi,” the girl giggled. “Night Mami.” She squirmed down under the blanket, fixing it around her and her chosen plushies as the adults approached the door.
Oliver combed his calloused fingers through his son’s damp hair, pressing a kiss to the side of his head before walking out of the room
Damien took the boy’s face into both of his hands. Brown-almost-red eyes staring deep into Ozzy’s green, adoration not once leaving the gesture. He pressed a kiss to Ozzy’s forehead.
“I love you, sweetie.” He cooed.
“Love you too, mom.” Ozzy replied, his eyes dropping, trying to keep his voice from cracking as it did almost every time he heard those words. Maybe he was thinking on them too much.
He felt fingers curl under his chin, gently tilting his head upward until he was looking the man in the eye again. Damien smiled more broadly, wrapping his arms around Ozzy and hugging him close. Ozzy’s face buried in the man’s chest, the smell of cherries and cinnamon invaded his nose, his arms rose and wrapped around Damien’s middle, clutching at the fabric of his sweater.
“Un joven tan fuerte.” The man murmured once he pulled back, placing another kiss at the tip of Ozzy’s nose. “Estoy muy orgulloso.”
The teen huffed in fake annoyance. “Thanks mom.” He smirked at the other, making him chuckle. He waited until Damien left the room before approaching Isabel’s bed, the girl watching quietly.
“Mami likes giving you hugs.” She commented as he sat on the bedspread, moving her stuffed animals to her other side so he could curl up beside her.
“Well, Papi likes giving you kisses.” He teased, tapping her nose playfully, her nose scrunching up in response. “Are you ready for your story I promised?” Ozzy asked in an excited voice. She nodded eagerly, bringing a grin to his mouth. “Good, I call this one The Sad Prince of Clover.”
“Why is the prince sad?” Isabel asked softly.
Ozzy chuckled at her. “Let me tell the story and you’ll find out, okay?” He pulled a small deck of cards from the pocket of his sweatpants. It wasn’t a whole deck, just thirteen cards. He shuffled through the cards until he found the ones he was looking for. The suit of the cards were the clubs, or clover to some. “Once upon a time in a land of four kingdoms; Clover, Diamond, Heart, and Spade,” Ozzy began, shifting his form so his sister could snuggle against him. “In the Kingdom of Clovers there was a young prince, he spent his days following his parents, the king and queen, -” he showed her the cards he selected, the king, queen, and jack of clover “- he followed them around the castle learning about his home and his people, learning how to rule as they did. His father taught him combat and defense, his mother taught him caution and diplomacy. They also taught him to bond with the people he will one day rule over, so he would truly know the ones he protects. He loved his parents just as they loved him.
“One day, the king and queen left to discuss trade with one of the other kingdoms,” Ozzy tucked the two cards back into the deck, “but they never came back. Word came from the other kingdom that the king and queen never arrived. Search parties were sent out but the king and queen couldn’t be found, the only thing that was found was their carriage broken into splinters.”
Isabel stared up at her brother with wide eyes.
“The whole kingdom mourned the loss of their king and queen. The commoners, the soldiers, the nobility, even the dowager king and queen. But none mourned more so than the prince, who was still just a young boy hardly older than you. He would visit the headstones of his parents daily with flowers for his mother and questions for his father but when night would fall and he was left alone, the prince would cry himself to sleep, missing his mother’s gentle caress and his father’s warm embrace.
“The young grandparents, the dowager king and queen, took over running the kingdom until the prince came of age-”
“But wouldn’t the prince be a king now?” Isabel demanded, her bottom lip sticking out in a confusion pout.
Ozzy chuckled softly at her question. “Yes, but he was still so young, too easy to influence.” He explained, pulling two new cards from the deck, a king and queen that was more worn from use from the small deck. “Now, his grandparents, the way they taught things was much different than his mother and father. They insisted on bringing in tutors to teach him about how to govern his kingdom’s economy and trade, and etiquette and diplomacy. His grandfather encouraged him to learn about previous wars and battle tactics, his grandmother pushed him to refine his social graces and the importance of his alliances with the nobility. They taught that his people fight for him not that he fight for his people. The prince quickly found himself exhausted with his work, his lessons, with his grandparents. It almost went unnoticed that the prince never smiled again,” the boy waggled a finger in her face before continuing. “The year passes and the dowager queen has taken notice of her grandson’s still grieving heart. She sends out invites to the local nobility and even to the three other kingdoms for a small party, insisting that they bring their heirs of similar ages to the prince.”
He reached his free arm over Isabel spreading out the rest of the cards on to the bedding; tens, nines, and eights from other suits littered among two jacks of spade, an ace and jack of diamonds, and a jack of hearts. Ozzy felt his sister twist against him to see the cards. He carefully added the jack of clover to the spread.
“The party went well but not as the dowager queen expected or hoped. Instead of meeting the other children and playing around with someone his age should, the young prince conversed mostly to the other kings and queens and adults of the nobility, discussing politics and trade as he was taught by his tutors. This frustrated the dowager queen.”
“‘Grandson,’ the dowager queen spoke to the prince,” Ozzy spoke in a raspy huff as he spoke for the prince’s grandmother, “‘Why don’t you play with the other princes and princesses? You are still young enough to do so.’”
“‘The tutors you and grandfather brought in did not teach me those things.’ The prince replied.” Ozzy changed his voice again to a pitiful whisper. “‘They teach me to talk with the rulers of our neighbor kingdoms, to discuss future events and new trades with them, not to play. Is that not why you brought them in?’”
“Her grandson’s words made the dowager queen even more frustrated,” the teen scoffed in the character’s stead, “but she could not disagree. ‘But that does not mean you can’t enjoy your youth.’ His grandmother said. ‘You are still young, dear, you have years before you are a man.’”
“‘But, grandmother,’ the prince looked up at her, his eyes turning glossy with tears. ‘I am not a man, but, I feel so old. I miss my mother and my father. Everything is so different from when they were here.’” Ozzy trailed a finger down his cheek as he eyed the little girl beside him, indicating the tears falling down the prince’s face.
“The dowager queen sighed, feeling the ache in her own heart for her son’s and daughter-in-law’s death. ‘I know, dear,’ she says, ‘I miss them too.’ She pats his head and sends him off to try and play with the other heirs.”
“Days pass on from that party, the prince stuck in his gloom, turning into weeks, then into months until the day of the Grand Fool’s Festival. A grand party celebrated by all the kingdoms and held at the four corners where they meet.” Ozzy’s voice became more excited, his hand moving through the air animatedly.
Isabel tucked herself impossibly closer to her brother, matching his excitement in her darling almond brown eyes.
“Beautiful decorations hung from every building, special lanterns and confetti flew through the air. People from all four kingdoms wandered over the borders, laughing and celebrating, children ran amuck in their best clothes wearing masks bought from happy vendors, and performers danced around wearing their own masks of either the fool of tragedy or fool of comedy entertaining the civilians with jokes and tales of all sorts. All surrounding one giant stage right on top of the center of the kingdoms.
“And of course all the royal families showed up to join in the festivities. The radiant, if not a little vain, Diamonds; the strong and intimidating Spades, and the mysterious but lovely Hearts, all joined but remained in their respective territories. Merriment and laughter as far as the eye could see, except for the prince of Clover.
“The prince watched as his people mingled joyously with people from the other kingdoms, sharing drinks and jokes, children squealing with surprise in their games of chase. He stared almost awestruck when a Fool would approach, encouraged by the laughter of others or by the dowager queen to attempt at making the prince smile even the slightest, but none worked. Goofy faces, easy jokes, or even roughhousing with a guard could make the corners of his mouth perk up. He would simply stare at the Fool almost confused until they went away to entertain someone else.” Ozzy sighed, sounding about as tired as one of the Fools in his story.
“Finally, the prince’s grandparents encouraged him to roam and mingle among the citizens, like his own parents had encouraged, and he went. Not straying too far from where he could still see the stands where his grandparents sat awaiting the main event like the other royals, the young prince wandered, watching everything around him curiously. He nodded politely to the peasantry that noticed him long enough to register that he was a prince and would quickly bow in respect, he ducked when older kids would run by him slashing and clashing the air with wooden swords or with pretty streamers.
“‘Hello,’ another boy approached the prince wearing a fool of comedy mask. ‘Why do you look so sad?’ the boy asked.
“‘Because I am sad,’ the prince replied, ‘I am an orphan, why shouldn’t I be sad?’” Ozzy coughed into his fist, clearing his throat of the irritation from changing his voice to suit the characters.
“‘I know lots of orphans,’ the boy said. ‘They aren’t sad. Would you like to hear a joke?’
“‘You can try.’ Answered the prince, sounding a bit bitter. ‘But no other Fool has made me laugh.’
“The boy laughed behind his mask. ‘Well, you don’t need to laugh.’ He told the prince.” The teen gathered up the cards still spread out on the comforter, casting a glance at Isabel, who awaited the next part of the story. “Do you wanna know the joke Isa?”
The little girl nodded eagerly.
“Alright,” Ozzy snickered. “Why did the chicken cross the road?” He waited patiently until she figured out that she was supposed to answer.
“Oh! Why?”
He snickered again, a little more muffled. “To get to the fool’s house. Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?” The little girl asked slowly, almost as if she knew where the joke was going but the confusion in her eyes betrayed a bit of doubt.
“The chicken.” Ozzy answered with a snort, quickly getting pushed back and almost off the bed in response. “Hey! Careful!” He quickly pressed a kiss to her forehead before pushing himself up and off the bed. “Good night princesa .”
“Ozzy,” Isabel called softly, making him pause just inside her door, his hand hovering over the lightswitch. He turned around to look at her curiously.
“Did the joke make the sad prince laugh?” She asked, hugging a plush bunny close to her chest.
Ozzy was silent for a moment, then he smiled. “Yes, it did. He laughed until his stomach hurt.”
Satisfied, Isabel laid back against her soft pillows, hugging her bunny tight, curling up under the blanket.
Her brother watched as she shifted around until she was comfortable before he turned off the light, closing the door enough so that the hall light still shown into the room. He stepped down the hall, the house was silent, the familiar pictures lined the wall between the bedrooms. He paused when his phone vibrated in his other pocket. Pulling it out, Ozzy saw it was a message from Sean.
Soldierboi: ho
Soldierboi: how was storytime?
Ozzy snickered, his head shaking as he typed out his response.
Biteme: same always
Biteme: jelos you missed it?
Soldierboi: fuck off
Soldierboi: you tell good stories
Soldierboi: miss em
Biteme: hafta stay ovr again sumtime
Soldierboi: yeh