The Brothers Grimm

Brainstorming for a sequel, and this is what came of it. Tales of the Grimm brothers have never been so good. Enjoy!

Anything but Disney

"Happy Birthday, Angelo!" crooned Lussuria as he handed a brightly colored package to the seven-year-old boy.

Angelo turned the package this way and that, guessing what lay within as his uncle smiled ridiculously down at him. Finally, the boy tore off the wrapper, revealing a leather-bound collection of fairy tales by the Grimm brothers. His bright blue eyes raked through the corner, taking in the gold-embossed lettering and red leather.

Lussuria stood there waiting, anxious to hear about any of his comments on the book. He watched him thumb through the pages aimlessly till he could take it no longer. "Well, do you like it?" he asked, biting his lip. Knowing his father, the kid could be picky as hell, just like him. Then again, there was a chance he could've taken after his mother…

"Wha—" Angelo looked up from his book, shaking the confusion from his face. Closing it, he hugged it to his chest, smiling, "—oh, yeah, it's great. Thanks".

Satisfied with his answer, Lussuria sauntered off with a silly grin on his face. Later, he would brag about his latest "accomplishment" but not with the kid within earshot.

As soon as he left, Angelo sat on the bear hide rug with his back against the foot of an armchair, flipping through the pages of his new book. It was a cold October night, and the fireplace offered warmth and bliss to him. The Varia—a group of assassins he called family—had just gotten home for ma mission a few hours ago. The one he called "Dad" was an irritable alcoholic of a man—and he was the leader of Varia, too. "Mom", however, was out of the picture—hasn't been in it since the accident two years ago.

Amidst the blissful silence, he hears boots shuffling softly on the carpet, followed by a tell-tale, "VOOOOOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!"

Uncle Squalo. The white-haired swordsman was a dear friend of his mom's, though he'd never really understood why; the guy was such a loudmouth. Sitting up straight, he asked, "So how did the trip go?"

"The hell do you think?" replied the swordsman, plopping down onto the armchair behind Angelo. From where he sat, he smelled like grass and stagnant water. A lazy smile crept over the assassin's features as he closed his eyes. "We kicked ass, kid, like we always do. You should know that by now".

He smiled knowingly, and turned back to the book on his lap, unaware that he was being watched by Squalo. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, he leaned forward, elbows against his knees. "What do you have there?" he asked, nodding towards the book.

Angelo kept his hand on a page as he turned to the cover for Squalo to see. "Uncle Lussuria gave it to me. It's my birthday, remember?"

Please, you should be calling him Aunt Lussuria, Squalo thought as he gazed at the cover disdainfully. That gay faggot didn't even remind me that…"Oh, shit! It's your fucking birthday!"

The boy gazed at him incredulously, giving him a look that seemed to say, where-the-fuck-have-you-been?

Like it wasn't enough that he had Xanxus's face, he had Mira's eyes, too—silvery blue ones that made him feel guilty.

"Damn, I forgot", he said, rubbing a hand across his face. "Well, erm…Happy Birthday".

With his head within Angelo's eye level, it was crystal clear that the boy was waiting for something. "Alright, kid, what the fuck do you want?" he snapped. Stop looking at me like that. You look like a goddamn puppy.

Grinning, Angelo put the open book on the swordsman's lap. "Read this for me?" he pleaded, pointing at the page he bookmarked.

Squalo raised an eyebrow at the title. "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves? Are you fucking kidding me?!"

The boy was already seated at his feet, looking up at him expectantly. Squalo groaned in frustration and began the story. "Once upon a time…"

Suddenly, they heard Bel cackling from afar; the so-called prince was already making his way to them. "Shishishishi~ I didn't know Squalo can read!"

"Shut the fuck up! Like you can do any better".

"As a matter of fact, I can! Shishishishishishi~" Bel plopped himself directly opposite Angelo, his crazed smile illuminated by the fire behind him. "I'll even tell you the story myself".

As soon as Squalo opened his mouth to speak, Angelo gathered the book from his lap and closed it, tucking it under his arm. Then he placed a small hand on his knee. "Can you stay here with me and listen to Uncle Bel's story?" he asked, eyes pleading.

The swordsman rolled his eyes, and leaned back against the armchair. This is what I get for hanging around Mira too much, he thought. "This had better be good", he grumbled.

Bel made a show of clearing his throat, and thus he began his story: "First and foremost, there was no magic mirror, so you can forget about that now. A beautiful queen gave birth to a beautiful baby girl and her name was Snow White. As she grew up, she became more and more beautiful, while her mother became older and uglier. The queen wasn't a genius like me, so she thought Snow White has been stealing her beauty from her womb. Soon, her delusions were proven when she caught her husband cheating on her with Snow White. Shishishishi…"

Squalo looked down at Angelo; he seemed so absorbed with the story, hanging onto Bel's every word—even the incest part. That king is a sick old bastard.

"So the queen sends Snow White to be killed, but fails and la-dee-dah-dee-dah…", the prince leaned in close to the boy's face, their noses only a hairsbreadth away from each other, "…you know how the queen died?"

Angelo shook his head, and Bel cackled madly. "She was deep fried when she wore a pair of hot iron shoes! Shishishishishi~"

"What kind of story was that?!" demanded Squalo. "That's it! Get the fuck out of here!"

Bel pranced out of the living room, still laughing at his own story. Squalo shook his head in disdain. "Your Uncle Bel is a fucking psycho. What the hell possessed you to listen to him, anyway?"

Angelo merely shrugged. "He offered".

"Well, learn how to fucking say no!" Squalo leaned back, watching the child at his feet who seemed so fixated at the fireplace.

"Is that what Mama would have done?" he whispered, still staring at the crackling flames as if he could see her face there.

"Kid…" he started, leaning forward with a slight smile on his face, "…your mom could take care of herself. You? I'm not so sure".

Hones blue eyes looked up at him as a Xanxus-esque smirk tugged at his lips; it was an eerie combination, and he looked like something off The Exorcist. "Someday, I'll be as strong as Papa. You'll see", he declared, breaking into a Mira-esque grin. "Then I'll be the leader of Varia!"

I bet you will. "Go to bed, kid. You were supposed to be asleep hours ago".

"Good night, Uncle Squalo".

He watched the boy—mini-Xanxus, as he often referred to him when he wasn't around—leave till he was the only one in the room. Rower pulsed through the kid's veins, thanks to the wonder of genetics. A prodigy is what he is, and his father—any father, in fact—should be proud of him.

Hell, Squalo though, his dad can't even remember his own son's fucking birthday.