Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a boy. He was the middle of seven brothers, all rather famous. His name was Matt, short for Matthew, of course.
His oldest brother Charmont was married to a lovely girl who liked to clean named Ella. Charmont was dashing handsome and charming. He had everything.
His brother Adam the tailor was famous for killing seven things in one blow, though he was ratted out on it. He wasn't actually a very good tailor, but he had a magnificent sash that proclaimed Seven in one blow.
His third oldest brother Mark had a cat that defeated an ogre and won him a princess. The cat could walk on its hind legs and talk too. It wore a pair of terrific boots, better than any the whole family wore, and was a good hunter. To think the Matt's brother was going to kill it, eat it, and turn its skin into a muff.
Matt's next youngest brother Eric gave CPR to a lovely maiden with snowy white skin who lived with a troupe of short men. She was an excellent cook.
His second youngest brother David saved a girl from a tower. Her name was Rapunzel, though Matt's mother liked to call her Zel for short. She was very nice, if not a little paranoid about her claustrophobia.
And his youngest brother Jack, who was the laziest lump to call himself human, defeated a giant by chopping down a huge beanstalk from Matt's backyard.
Matt hadn't done anything. He stayed at home, playing his music. His mother assured him that he would get his glory soon; he just had to leave the house sometime. Matt was tall and skinny, and happened to be quite ugly, with ears that stuck out far too much. He had wild curly blond hair and rather large brown eyes, and he spoke with a lisp. But he was a good boy, if not underestimated.
"Hey! Matt! How are you?" shouted Charmont from the doorway, his arm wrapped about Ella's waist.
Matt looked up and gave his oldest brother a surly glare.
"I'm fine," he grunted. He put down his drumsticks and walked over to see his brother, fresh from the castle for dinner that Sunday. Like always.
"Matthew, dear, I hope you're doing well!" shrieked Ella. He gave his sister-in-law a grudging hug and allowed her to plant two kisses on each cheek, which made him go red.
"Matt!" roared Adam. He limped in, his princess trailing behind him boredly. She sniffed in an uppity manner. She was a stuck-up bitch if there ever was one. She reluctantly gave Matt a quick curtsy.
Mark then walked in, his cat walking behind him, looking superior. Mark clapped Matt on the back and asked him how he was. Matt replied that he was fine as the cat, Puss-in-Boots as he liked to be called, wound his way around Matt's large feet, purring.
"Hello Puss," he said sourly. Puss gave him a look and stalked away to play with Matt's mother's she-cat Alice.
Eric walked in, in all his "I'm engaged and thirteen" cocky glory, Snow White on his arm, beaming. Her roommates waddled in and squeaked their hellos to the family as David and Zel came in. Matt's mother gushed over Zel's long golden hair.
"Matt!" squealed David, rushing over his brother. He gave him a hug and Zel pecked each of Matt's cheeks. After Ella, Zel was probably his favorite sister-in-law or future one at least. Jack managed to stir himself from his spot next to the golden goose to greet his family, though he collapsed back into his chair as his golden harp started to sing her welcome. Matt scowled and sat down, his chin stuck in the air.
He managed to scowl through the entire meal, which included what his mother called "The Princess Choir" singing a rendition of how they were all rescued and saved and wooed and what not to their husbands and future husbands. He made little small talk with Ella and Puss-in-Boots, and allowed the harp to comb his hair. The harp had a strange fetish for Matt's hair.
"You take such good care of your flaxen locks, Master Matthew!" warbled the harp. He shook his head and left the table for his room.
He finally flumped down and stared at the magic mirror that Snow White had given to his as a present. Matt finally sat down on the stool to his drum set and he began pounding out a beat.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, when are my brothers leaving?" he asked the mirror after a few minutes. He stuck his drumsticks in the holster his mother made on his back.
"When your mother says so," replied the mirror-man. He had a gaunt face like an empty mummer's mask without a stick.
"Which will be when?"
"About oh, nine or so, when that blasted Eric has to go to bed." The mirror-man's empty eyes narrowed in distaste.
"You're still mad about the queen, mirror?" Matt asked, feeling rather sensitive.
"Well I had it good with Snow White's step-mother!" the mirror-man yelled out defensively.
"Yeah, I know, she was loads better looking than I am," Matt said mournfully.
"Oh, you're plenty handsome, in your own way. I don't feel bad for that girl…Oh no! I wasn't supposed to say that!" the mirror said, his eyes opening.
"What are you talking about? Tell me, now, mirror, I have drumsticks and I'm not afraid to use them!" he threatened. The mirror-man shrank back in his frame and took a deep breath.
"I wasn't supposed to mention this, but there's a princess out there, waiting for you. You will be the greatest of all your brothers, an amazing feat will son be under your belt, young Matthew, the harp and I often discuss it," said the mirror-man.
"You and the harp talk?" Matt asked, raising an eyebrow. "She's never even been in my room, and she just hops along. I'd hear her come in at night."
"Magical object to magical object bond, don't ask me to explain it, young sir." The mirror's glass fuzzed over suddenly and the mirror-man disappeared.
"Damn that mirror man," Matt said. He continued to pound on his drums until he heard Snow White's musical good-bye, and he then left his room.
"Oh, Matt! There you are!" his mother exclaimed. "We were wondering where you went off to! I sometimes regret sound-proofing your room!"
"Well, I just can't stand to be near them sometimes, with all their squawking about their adventures and stuff," he said. "Mum, am I a dunce?"
"No, no, no, Mattie! You're just fine the way you are!" she replied.
"Well, I never do anything here, all the others have, y'know, killed giants and cheated death and smitten princesses. I've never done anything exciting."
"Well, that's because you're my good boy. You stay at home and you help with the farm and you do your chores and you have your music. None of your brothers play music, I wouldn't worry, Mattie, your adventures will come soon enough," his mother assured him.
Matt stood by his mother and helped her with the dishes, passing them to the harp to dry as his mother washed them. He stood up a little taller, though it didn't matter much, as he was already a head taller than his mum. He left minutes later as the harp began to sing her regular lullaby, which his father much appreciated.
He stripped off his tunic and his blouse, threw them on a chair and took off his hose and his breeches to leave them lying on the floor. He slept in some loose-fitting cotton trousers.
The harp soon sang her morning aria and Matt opened his eyes. He yawned, put everything back on and patted the mirror good morning. He ate his breakfast and set out to do his chores alone, as Jack no longer did anything around the houses, unless it had something to do with the goose or the harp.
"Dad," he asked as he weeded the garden, "With all the gold that the goose makes everyday, why don't we hire some hands that need the money to do the work?"
"Well, no one but us has ever farmed this farm and it shall be that way when you own the farm when I die," his father replied.
"What! You mean that you think I'll never amount to as much as the others?! You're putting the burden of the farm on me?! I don't even like the farm!" he shouted out. Matt threw down his trowel and his gloves and stormed away, furious, to lock himself in his room.
"What are we going to do with him?" his father asked his mother, which sounded rather muffled to Matt, as he had shoved his head under his pillow and locked the door shut.
"I don't know, Richard, I don't know," she replied, sounding rather mournful. "We can never get him to leave the farm, so he'll have to be happy with it. After all, it is kind of his fate."
"Well, I suppose you're right as usual, Eileen," his father said. There was a slight smacking sound and he heard his father's boots rapping on the floor to leave the house. Matt scowled and dove deeper under his covers.
"Master Matthew, do you wish to know what some one is doing?" the mirror-man asked sympathetically. One of Matt's stupider hobbies was to have the mirror-man spy on random people in the village near his farm. He could always see them through the mirror.
"No," he mumbled, holding his pillow over his head.
Later, he rolled out from under his covers and stared at the ceiling blankly.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's that girl you don't feel so bad for?" he asked, feeling a wee bit romantic.
"You'll see. You'd like her a lot," the mirror-man replied. Matt rolled back over and slept.
He went through his normal day, chores, brooding, playing his drums. He did it again. And again.
And he was tired of it.