Twisted Royals Origin Story

by Bristol, Sidney

  One by one little girls in puffy dresses edged onto the dance floor, bobbing their heads, swaying or clinging to each other. Soon they’d be on a sugar-high, and he was willing to bet their dancing would get more animated, but for now, they seemed to like the music. Even if it wasn’t the bone vibrating bass that most of the guys seemed to like.

  “Prince Adam?”

  A little girl in a yellow dress holding a red rose tugged on his hand.

  Was that who he was supposed to be? He glanced down at the clothes, but they were just that. Clothes. Still, if she thought he was Prince Adam, he’d be a sport and answer to it.

  He bent, going down on one knee. Personally he’d always hated people towering over him as a kid, especially his sister’s snooty professors who lamented over his less than amazing intellect.

  “Er, yes, princess?”

  “Oh, stay right there!” The photographer snapped a few pictures of Levi holding the little girl’s hand.

  He put the photographer out of his mind and focused on the little girl, taking in the clues one by one.

  Yellow dress. Rose. He knew this one.

  Originally a French fairy tale, though there were variations throughout Europe.

  Circa 1700s.

  It was a narrative about the changing social classes.

  Beauty and the Beast.

  Was that what the Beast’s name was? Adam?

  Just went to show, even the least among them could teach the smartest.

  The little girl tucked her chin in, blushing and smiling.

  “You have beautiful eyes. What’s your name?” The way these kids looked up at him—at the other guys—it was humbling. All he’d done was show up, put on a costume, tweak the speakers, and that was it. It was hardly something to gain this kind of reaction.

  “Would you pick her up?” the photographer asked.

  Levi frowned at the woman. She was pushy and eager. Still, this party wasn’t about photo ops, and so far half of the children he’d observed were running away from her. Delilah’s circle included those kids who were often mocked or the butt of a joke, not the center of a photo spread.

  Maybe it wasn’t his place to block out the photographer, but the party was about the kids. Period. As someone who’d been picked on and passed over at their age, he wasn’t about to let some camera-wielding woman pester the princesses to do something they weren’t comfortable with. Besides, the little girl might not even want to be picked up by a strange man, even if he was dressed as her fictional prince.

  He ducked his head and smiled at the little girl.

  “What’s your name?” he asked again. God, this felt silly, but the way she was smiling at him was worth it. “I’m Prince Adam.”

  “Belle.” She grabbed her skirt and swished it.

  “That’s a very pretty dress you have there, Belle. You know what? I like to read. Do you?”

  The little girl nodded vigorously.

  Thank the stars this was at least one thing he could latch onto. Growing up in a family of academics made him uniquely equipped for this roll. He could talk books all day.

  The photographer sighed and checked her phone.

  “I like to read fairy tales. Do you?”

  Again she nodded, her little hand twining around his finger. She really was adorable.

  “What’s your favorite one?”

  “Beauty and the Beast.”

  “I like that one, too.” He leaned toward her. “The princess is very smart. I like how she outwits Gaston in the movie.”

  The little girl grinned, her eyes lighting up.

  Damn, he’d forgotten what it was like to be that happy. The last time—no, he didn’t want to think about her. About his mistakes. Moving to Seattle was about a fresh start with new people.

  “Prince Adam?”

  “Hm?”

  “Would you...dance with me?”

  “Of course I would.”

  He pushed to his feet and held out his other hand. She took them both in her little ones, clinging to his index fingers. By his estimation, she was one of the younger ones. The scar on her neck and arm betrayed her seemingly normal appearance, but it was hard to see those when she looked at him like a hero come to life.

  Was this what Owen and Ian felt like? Their jobs put them in the role of protectors. Saviors. He’d never really understood the appeal, but when the littlest Belle looked at him like this, he wanted to move mountains and hang stars. If nothing more than to give a little girl something to smile about.

  It was good, being a prince.

  Detective Owen King

  Owen bent forward, doing his best to avoid tripping on Delilah’s crutch and keep up with her and her friend. He hadn’t known trading costumes with Andre meant he was now the birthday girl’s personal prince. Then again, there were worse fates in life.

  Delilah let go of his hand and whirled to face him, smacking his ankle with her crutch. She wiggled and jived in time to the music while her friend continued to cling to his hand.

  “You’ve got some moves there, princess.” Owen had classic white-boy dancing syndrome, but the kids didn’t seem to mind.

  They bobbed from side to side, not anywhere remotely in time to the music.

  Andre gave him a ‘thumbs up’ from the sidelines, all the while laughing his ass off, likely at Owen. Oh well. At least he wasn’t wearing...whatever the hell that green suit was supposed to be. Andre looked sort of like a frog.

  “Kierra is my best friend!” Delilah launched herself at the taller, willowy girl attached to Owen’s hand. She let her crutches dangle from their wrist straps and clung to Kierra. “She’s the only other Cinderella, and she’s my best friend.”

  Kierra smiled, but it was a more muted joy. Owen had seen kids with shadows like that in their eyes before. He didn’t like it.

  “I need to pee,” Delilah announced. “Kierra, you watch after Prince—Prince Charming.”

  “We won’t go anywhere without you, Cinderella.” He grinned and winked at Kierra.

  Delilah turned, calling for her mother, leaving Owen relatively alone with Kierra.

  His instinct said to follow the clues, ask questions, find out what was wrong, but he wasn’t on the clock, and this was his friend’s party. He offered his other hand to Kierra, still warring with which decision was right.

  “You are so cute together!” The photographer swooped in, snapping several pictures.

  Kierra flinched away, turning her back on the woman.

  “I think that’s enough.” Owen turned, shielding Kierra from the camera.

  Kierra tugged on his hand, leading him away from the photographer, dance floor and music. Owen followed her to the edge of the yard, near the hedges with balloons and lanterns tied to their branches. It was the farthest point of the imaginary boundary line for the princesses.

  “What’s wrong, Kierra?” He crouched in front of her, searching her eyes for some sign.

  “I need a prince.” She delivered the line so seriously, he had a sneaking suspicion she didn’t mean here and now.

  “Yeah? Well, good for you I am a prince. What can I do for you?”

  Kierra glanced over her shoulder at the cluster of moms who’d taken up station near the food tables. Shortly, the princesses would gather for Delilah to hold court and pass out cake and open presents.

  “There are monsters outside our house. My sister doesn’t believe me.” It was the way Kierra spoke, the age beyond her years in her eyes, that convinced him. Children, in his experience, were far more perceptive than many gave them credit for.

  “Yeah? Can you tell me about these monsters?” His stomach tightened. Monsters could translate into any number of dangers.

  “They come at night and look through our windows. Quinn doesn’t believe me.”

  “Who’s Quinn?”

  “My sister. She needs a prince, too.” Kierra pointed at a slender woman with long brown hair, her back toward them.

  “What about these monsters? Ho
w many of them are there? What do they look like?” Could be burglars canvassing the area. Peeping Toms. Worst case scenario, he didn’t even want to think about.

  “I’ve heard them at night, but I’ve only seen one. He’s dark and lumpy.”

  Dark and lumpy. Either they were wearing some sort of mask, or maybe it was a bigger guy with darker skin. There were too many ways to interpret that statement.

  “Can you draw me a picture of them?”

  “Yes. Quinn thinks I’m making it all up though.”

  “Well, I don’t. I’ll tell you a secret, Kierra, okay?”

  She leaned a little closer.

  “I’m a prince with a badge.” He dug out his wallet and showed her his detective credentials. “It’s good that you told me about this. Next time you think you see or hear the monsters, I want you to have your sister call this number, okay? It’s my job to handle monsters, and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt trying to tackle them yourself.”

  Kierra took his business card, her lips moving silently.

  “I’m going to give this to your sister so she can hold onto it, okay?” He held out his hand for the card.

  Kierra’s lips continued to move.

  “Kierra?”

  “I’m memorizing it. Hold on.”

  Memorizing his business card?

  “Done.” She handed his card back, eyes a little brighter.

  “You...memorized all of this?” He pointed at the four phone numbers, two email addresses and the location of the department.

  Kierra recited it all back to him without pausing for breath.

  Photographic memory? Or just a knack for memorization?

  “I’ll introduce you to Quinn. She’s going to be mad, though.” Kierra sighed and turned toward her sister.

  “What about your mom and dad?” Owen glanced from the little girl to the very grown woman.

  “My mom’s dead. She died when I was a baby. Dad’s winning the war.”

  That still didn’t sound right. The way he understood it, a primary guardian wasn’t often put on the front lines.

  “Kierra, there you are.” Quinn turned toward them, her hands on her hips. Both girls had long, curly hair so dark brown it almost seemed black.

  “I told him about the monsters. He says he’ll help.”

  Quinn’s mouth gaped open and she glanced from Kierra to Owen.

  “Hi, I’m Detective Owen King.” He held out his business card.

  “A king dressed as a prince. Great.” Quinn’s eyes were wide, her skin a bit paler. “Kierra has an overactive imagination. Go find Delilah, Kierra, please?”

  Kierra glanced from her sister to him. Her brow was creased with more lines, not less, and she seemed...sad. Fearful? He hated that look. Owen smiled and nodded at her. He’d find the little girl again later and ensure she had a good time.

  He and Quinn watched Kierra scamper off inside the house.

  “She makes up stories, Detective. We’ve called the cops before when she thought she saw someone, but...” Quinn shrugged.

  “What about your father? She said he was winning the war?”

  “Our dad is a DoD contractor.”

  “Ah, that makes more sense.” But it didn’t tell him why he’d left his daughters alone.

  “I’m sorry she gave you cause for concern, Detective, but everything’s fine.” She held out his card.

  “Keep it. Just in case Kierra needs someone to come scare the imaginary monsters away.” Owen wasn’t convinced it was all in Kierra’s head. A little girl didn’t get eyes that wise through fairy tales, and if she needed a prince to slay her demons, well, he came with a badge and handcuffs that’d do the job just fine.

  Ian Kelly

  “Everyone on the dance floor. Now!”

  Ian shook his head.

  Javier hollered out a few people by name, calling them to the center. The guy was really getting into this whole thing. Delilah was eating it up, and so were the other girls. Ian hadn’t seen the mob of munchkins smile and laugh this much in ages, and he was regularly present for the occasional sleepover to lend helping hands.

  “You, too, big man. Come on.” Javier pointed at Ian and Blake.

  “Come on, he’ll just keep the DJ repeating that stupid intro until we play along.” Ian smacked Blake on the shoulder.

  Ian didn’t miss Blake’s frown. The guy had a long way to go on his recovery since losing his leg, but it had to start sometime. He couldn’t keep refusing to live. Just look at Delilah and the other littles. Ian learned a lot from them. What he was capable of. The things he could push himself to do if he just fucking tried.

  The DJ had some new club song on. It was like the Macarena or Gangnam Style, in that it was both a song...and a dance. Ian was only vaguely aware of it because of a protective detail gig he’d done a few weeks ago. He’d spent more time in clubs watching bodies gyrate than he wanted to, but at least it’d been an easy stint.

  One by one, Javier dragged all the guys onto the tiny dance floor. Ian glanced over his shoulder. At first look, they weren’t prince material. Most of them were rough around the edges and broken from living a hard life, but they were pushing on. Even Jaxon and Blake at the back.

  Ian grinned and clapped in time to the beat of the music.

  Javier took the lead, standing between the guys and the girls, leading the dance.

  He really was hamming it up. Ian hadn’t seen Javier this animated or enthusiastic about anything that wasn’t female since...well, since he’d met the guy. It was really awesome to see how they were all coming together.

  Ian shoved his cape over his shoulder. The damn thing was in the way almost all the time. He clapped along, picking up the repetitive movements after struggling through the first iteration. The little girls whooped and hollered at them, some crowding in to join along.

  Owen had Delilah hoisted up on his hip, her friend clinging to his other hand.

  Even Erik had a smile on his ugly mug, encouraging one of Delilah’s newer friends to dance along.

  Where was—?

  There.

  Ian darted off the dance floor and around the cake table to where Chloe was hiding, tissues pressed to her face. She’d stuck to the outskirts of the party since her uncontrollable tears had made at least one child alarmed.

  “Come on.” He grabbed Chloe’s hand.

  Sure, the party was for Delilah, but Chloe did so much for her daughter and the other girls. She deserved more than entertainment. She deserved some fun.

  Ian dragged Chloe out to the dance floor, tears still clinging to her lashes. She didn’t so much dance as hug whoever got closest and mutter, “thank you,” to the guys who met her eye.

  The line dance led into another song, and just about everyone stayed on the crowded dance floor, bobbing along.

  He grabbed Chloe around the waist and pulled her in for a tight squeeze.

  “Thank you.” Her voice broke, all watery.

  “For what? Crashin’ yer party?” Damn, but looking at his twin was a punch to the feels.

  “You guys, you’re amazin’. Thank you. This,” she glanced around, “Delilah’s never goin’ to forget this.”

  “She hasn’t asked for her old man, has she?”

  “We had a talk about that yesterday and earlier today. She knew he wasn’t comin’.” Chloe smoothed the shirt-jacket-thing down on his chest.

  Ian glanced at Delilah. He couldn’t tell from her grinning face if she was bothered or upset by the absence of her sperm donor. Knowing her, she likely understood in a far deeper way than they could. It was like...her body had to be born imperfect to make up for the incredibly wise and kind person inside of it. People like her made people like him want to be better. To be worthy. To be the kind of prince she’d need in life.

  He’d remember tonight for the rest of his life, how a bunch of unlikely barroom friends came together to make a little girl’s dreams come true. That people weren’t all bad. That there was good in the world, it just to
ok a little bit of searching to find it.

  Kade Tsaplin:

  The man of many talents. Combat medic. Retired army. EMT. Firefighter. He is a hobby fortune teller. Kade likes to keep himself busy to forget the past.

  The Trinity Hall pub was alive with music, laughter and abounding with men in capes and tights.

  Kade Tsaplin threw his head back and downed the vodka in one gulp. His head spun, but it was a good ride, fueled by laughter and friends.

  Javier whooped and slapped Kade on the back, making him sputter a bit of the alcohol.

  “That’s the spirit.” Javier grinned and threw his arm around Levi’s shoulders. The poor guy looked overwhelmed and ready to bolt, but he’d stuck out the whole evening.

  Kade turned, grinning at the rest of these stupid goofs. He hadn’t really known what to expect when Ian gave him the details, but this wasn’t it. Who would have guessed that after that knee accident he’d get plugged in with these guys? They were such a strange mix of people, from the Irishman to the researcher, the community champion to the former MMA fighter. Kade could still remember the first time Ryan convinced him to come out for a drink. It’d been trivia night and they’d shot the bull, played some darts and had plenty of laughs.

  He’d found his people.

  Mom always talked about finding your tribe. A place to belong. And oddly enough, Kade had found his in the bottom of a shot glass after too many nights out.

  Ian slid into the seat Javier had vacated and slapped Kade on the shoulder.

  “Thanks again for comin’ out, man. I know you’re busy savin’ the world.”

  “Nah, it was my pleasure.” Kade had a good buzz going and nowhere to be for a while.

  “I know Delilah really loved your storytellin’.”

  “Glad to be of service.” Kade grinned and bowed his head. His parents used to tell the most outlandish stories. He’d committed most to memory, though no one ever wanted to hear them except for Aunt Liv. The kids, though, had loved them.

  “Seriously, thank you, man.”

  “Don’t go all I-love-you-drunk on me.” Kade wagged his finger at Ian.

  “Fuck you.” Ian flipped him the bird.