My excuse for not answering yesterday's: If I'm being honest it's just because (Plz no one get offended) I don't like the fairy tale trope. Not saying they can't be well written or well done, just not my thing. But yea. Apparently I'm going to be that person now. Also if you haven't read Flint and Steel, Lucy is my OC for the youngest Longtreader sibling and the only girl. I'm talking the generation with Garten, in case that just confused everyone further.

Prompt: 5 plus 1 (Actually, I wrote a 4 plus 1, but it's in the spirit of the prompt, right?)

Four times they realized how different they were, and one time they didn't.

Lucy is smart enough to know when to speak and when to keep her mouth shut, which is less than she can say for her older brothers. She's different, she understands this, and not just from them but from the larger whole of society. She can't run. She can't play. She can barely walk. And it isn't fair. Lucy never says this, never tells anyone what she secretly thinks, but inside she knows that it just isn't fair. She's lucky, she assures herself, to have access to medical care and the life-saving medicine that she needs daily, but she doesn't feel lucky. Even Garten doesn't understand.

"Hey Lucy, you okay?" She glances up to see Wilfred looking down at her. She nods, and smiles. But it isn't the truth.

Lucy is in pain.

But she can't say anything.

That would be ungrateful.

And she's different.

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Whittel can't stand it. Everyone ignores him, nobody cares, and he is always the last to be thought of at any time. He is the youngest. The littlest. The baby of the family, even surpassing Lucy. He can't talk to people like Wilfred, can't even imagine doing half the things Garten does. He doesn't have any excuses for his constant silence like Lucy does, and in the end, he knows that it comes down to his fear. His constant, constant, constant fear of being ridiculed, mocked, and at the end of it abandoned. But he can't put this into words! He can't explain to Wilfred why it is so hard for him to talk, why he begins to shake when called on in class. Whittel knows that, secretly, Wilfred and Garten both think his fears are ridiculous. They both think he is a coward. And he is, he is. And they all know it.

"Quit being stupid. It's not dangerous, you'll be fine." Garten berates him for his fears all the time. Whittel hates him for that.

He's never been brave like Wilfred.

He can't even be angry like Garten.

He's just how he is, and how he is isn't good enough.

He's different.

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Wilfred is sick and tired of being trapped in the middle of his brothers' drama. Tired of being the diplomat, tired of being the mediator. Tired of having to be the careful one, the cautious one, the boring one. Why can't they ever do what he wants to do? Why does he always have to give in? Some days he wishes he could run away. Others he remembers that he can't. Because what would they do without him? Tear themselves to pieces, probably. At least, that's what Garten and Whittel would do. Wilfred will always resent there arguing and bickering, but he can't resent them. He cares too much. He always hopes that someone will ask him if he's okay. But then-silence. No one says anything.

Wilfred knows he must be strong.

Garten won't, Whittel can't, that leaves him.

And it's fine, it's fine. Everything is fine.

But deep down, he knows he's different.

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Garten knows he's terrible. He knows that pretty much his entire family resents him. And he knows most of it is his fault. He just can't seem to stop. He can't seem to control himself, and beyond all things he hates that. Because he doesn't really want to hurt them, especially Lucy. But he's frustrated with Whittel's fears and jealous of Wilfred's mental strength, and he wishes that he could just get over things. Jealousy is the root of most of his problems, but he doesn't know how to let go and isn't much interested in learning.

"You can't take your anger out on your brother." He knows that. Of course he knows that. "Then why do you?" His mother asks when he snaps back with that answer. He can't explain, of course, and gets instead a lecture about controlling his temper.

Garten isn't stupid.

But everyone seems to think he is.

Well, there's more than one way to twist that to his advantage.

He doesn't care if that makes him different.

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"You're leaving, aren't you." Whittel winces when he hears Wilfred's voice. He was hoping Wilfred wouldn't catch on. Or find time to confront him. But of course, Wilfred does.

"I have to."

"No, you don't. You've never had to do anything, and you know that."

"What do you want me to do, Wilfred? Leave my children in danger?"

"They'll be no safer in Nick Hollow than anywhere else." Wilfred says, his voice strangely calm and mild. "And maybe, for once, you could stick it out instead of running away."

Whittel hesitates.

"I didn't ask for any of what happened." He finally says.

"Well, you sure didn't help. You never even tried to get along with him, you never tried to make anything right." Whittel's temper sparks at this, though he can't deny its truth.

"That-That didn't have anything to do with you."

Wilfred curses angrily, exactly like Garten used to.

"Please. I've always played diplomat between you two, keeping the family peace. You just couldn't get along. I don't know why. And at this point I'm beyond caring."

"He's been insane ever since Lucy's death!"

"How would you know? You've barely spoken to him since then." Whittel paused.

"I can't believe you're actually defending him. He murdered the king-"

"And he was my brother!" Wilfred roars. His voice, suddenly so angry, carries the exact same intonation that Garten's always did. A sharp moment passes, a charged silence where they only stare at each other. "We're traitors, Whittel." Wilfred says flatly. "Traitors. We should have seen. Don't you understand? It falls to us. And you're so much of a coward you won't even face it."

"That isn't-"

"Fair? No, probably not. But it's the truth." Wilfred turns away, and Whittel notices that he is clutching something black, and silky. It's Jupiter's scarf. The one he always wore. The one that he'd barely ever taken off in between the ages of sixteen and twenty, so much so that it had become a running joke between Wilfred and Perkin. But Jupiter is gone now, and the scarf is only a sad reminder of the loss. "My best friend was killed by my brother." Wilfred says, voice shaking. "How did we all turn out so different?" He continues. "We all came from the same place, didn't we?"

"We're not really different." Whittel said, shaking his head. "We just made different choices."