Chapter Text
“Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived near a dark and dangerous forest.
One day, while out picking berries, the girl was snatched away by an evil Witch, who turned her into four jewels that she then scattered across the forest.
The girl’s Father was horrified at the loss of his child, and ventured into the forest to find her.
The first jewel he found in the clutches of the Bat Lady.
He pleaded with her to give him the jewel, but she refused and chased him away.
Travelling through a graveyard, he then found the Dark Weaver tending to the second jewel.
She too refused him the gem, and the pictures she wove out of mist frightened him until he fled.
The Fish King held the third jewel in his watery lair, and Father almost convinced him to give it up.
But once again, he was turned away.
With a heavy heart, Father came to an echoing wasteland, where he was met by the Iron Steed, bearing the fourth and final jewel.
“My siblings and I are the Witch’s prisoners,” he told Father. “Promise you’ll free us, and I will help you.”
Father was desperate, and so he agreed.
The horse bowed his head and summoned the other beasts.
This time, they gladly gave up their jewels.
Placing the precious stones in his pocket, he set off to find the Witch.
He found her at the heart of the forest, waiting for him.
“You cannot stop me,” she snarled.
The Witch was powerful, but Father was determined to save his little girl, and with the help of the beasts, he defeated her.
Now every spell she had cast was broken, turning the jewels back into the child and the menacing forest into an ordinary woodland, and freeing everyone she had ever controlled.
The beasts left, one by one, until only the Iron Steed remained.
In thanks for his freedom, he carried Father and the little girl home, where Mother was waiting.”
“Ugh, that story?”
Ethan looks up and smiles in greeting as Rose joyfully shrieks, “Papa! Hi!”
Karl makes a face. “No, , it’s Karl, remember? Karl.”
“Papa,” Rose insists with exactly the amount of enthusiasm one would expect from an eighteen-month-old.
“Your dada puts you up to this, doesn’t he,” Karl grumbles.
“I would never,” Ethan says indignantly. “And what’s wrong with my version of Village of Shadows?”
“It’s too pretty. It didn’t happen that way. And isn’t that the tale Miranda liked so much?” Karl ruins his grumpy vibe by leaning over to give first the top of Rose’s head, then Ethan’s cheek, a scruffy kiss.
Ethan shakes his head with a low chuckle. “She’s a baby, Karl. She’s not ready for the real story.”
“Mmm.” Karl reaches tentatively for Rose, who eagerly leans toward him and holds out her arms in unmistakable invitation. “Aren’t you worried she’ll be given shi- crap for… you know?” he asks abruptly, cradling her in the crook of one arm.
It’s a valid question, Ethan knows. A childhood of being taught that homosexuality is a sin, followed by eighty-odd years of nothing being done to teach him otherwise, isn’t going to be resolved by one year of positivity. It’s also not the first time Karl has expressed anxiety over the potential consequences of Rose having a dada, a mama, and a papa.
“If the people here can handle their neighbours being ancient Romanian mutants without batting an eye, I think they can handle a little polyamory in the community.”
“If you say so,” Karl says hesitantly. He bounces Rose a little, shaking out his hair as the spring he was using as a scrunchie tugs itself free and nips smartly into the pocket of his cargo pants. Ethan opens his mouth to remind him about using his powers so openly, then closes it. Even if they weren’t in the middle of the Winters residence, anyone passing by would think nothing of a little flying metal.
He’s got to hand it to the Hound Wolves; they don’t do things halfway. Halverson, New Orleans, is an out-of-the-way town barely on the map, and with all of them - Ethan, Mia, Rose, the lords and their associates - officially listed as dead, there’s nobody looking for them.
Everyone here has either seen the effects of genetic modification firsthand or knows someone who has, Chris had said. You’ll blend right in. Just don’t cause trouble and you should be fine.
So here they are, in a town that doesn’t care if the eight-foot music teacher depends on blood donors to stay healthy or the new mechanic lifts cars over his head without a machine to help. Heck, the locals seem to enjoy their… peculiarities.
It isn’t even September yet, and Donna has already been approached by numerous children wanting to know if she’ll be running the haunted house again this Halloween. Alcina’s vineyard is doing very well, only in part because of the quality of her wine. And while Salvatore isn’t technically supposed to turn into a giant fish while working at the watershed, he is a source of fascination among Halverson’s youth.
As for the Winterses, they have been enjoying a nice, long quiet stretch since they moved into their new house. Mia has put her newfound mutations to good use at a pharmacy - ever since Miranda’s experiments, she’s displayed an uncanny ability to read people’s physical “tells” through touch alone - and Ethan is considering a position at the local computer store.
All in all, life is good.
“Have you heard from the Duke lately?” Karl asks, drawing Ethan’s attention back to the present.
Ethan shakes his head. “Not since his last letter. The one saying he arrived in Spain?”
“Right.” Karl tilts his head, brow furrowing. “What’s making that music?”
“Music?” Ethan repeats. He strains his ears, then grins when he hears it too. “Lemme guess. You’ve never seen an ice cream truck before.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine what that is,” Karl admits.
Ethan grins at him and gets up off the couch, reaching for his wallet. “C’mon, Rose. Let’s introduce your papa to the terrible child-snatching ice cream vendor.”
“I knew you were teaching her that,” Karl mumbles triumphantly. Then, “Child-snatching?”
“Urban legend.” Ethan smirks. “Like Spider-Man.”
“Oh, shut up!”
No, Ethan reflects as he leads the way out the front door and down the driveway, their story might have had a terrible beginning. But it’s a story of family and of growth, and he loves it for what it is:
Theirs.