Chapter Text
Barb crept towards her brother’s door. The golden knob twisted silently, and the crown princess cracked the door open a silver. Her red eyes peeked inside.
“So, now if you hold your fingers, here and here, and then strum,” One Bill Reverb instructed, “That’s a C chord.”
Barb winced at the off-pitch chord that followed. Ah, the wonderful sound of a beginning guitar player. She was proud of Char for finally learning music, but she’d really rather not sacrifice her ears for it.
“That didn’t sound right,” Char grumbled.
“Well, it’s your first shot at it, chords aren’t easy to do in the beginning. Your fingers need to get stronger to press the strings right. You’ll get better with practice,” Billy said, “You know what went wrong?”
“I didn’t press on the middle string enough,” Char said.
The door creaked, and Barb very quickly had to pretend she wasn’t snooping.
“Uh, Dinner’s ready guys,” Barb said.
It wasn’t a lie, thankfully, Dad had told her to get the boys for food…she just got distracted. Not that she’d allow anyone to blame her, Barb could not let Billy infect Char with his soft rock beliefs. Her brother was a young budding musician, and he needed to be guided down the right path! One that will ensure his safety. Especially since he was biologically Pop. Soft rock sounded closer to Pop than other sub-rock styles. There were still differences of course, but the less Pop things that Char was associated with the better.
Char lit up and bolted out of his bedroom, “Thank you Barbie!”
“No problem, Charcoal Stick!” Barb called after her brother.
“Barbie?” Billy said, getting up from where he sat with a smug smirk.
“Not a word, Reverb,” Barb growled, “Only Char gets to call me that.”
The rocker chuckled, “You know, princess, things will be a lot less stressful if you just admit you don’t dislike me.”
Barb huffed a laugh, “I can’t stand you! I can’t stand your pretty boy attitude or that cute-ass smirk you have.”
“Oh, so you think I’m pretty and cute?”
Barb punched him in the arm, nearly knocking Billy over.
“Ow! I need to use that arm later!”
“Then don’t say stupid sh*t,” Barb crossed her arms, and snorted angerly, “How’s he doing?” she asked reluctantly.
“Honestly? All the prince is really missing is the muscle coordination. He picked up on pitch, tone and rhythm almost instantly. He can tell the differences between two chords just by ear. It’s impressive for his age. Why didn’t you start him sooner?”
Internally Barb was extremely proud to hear that Char was doing so well with just a week of basic tutoring. Externally she was glaring at Billy. He didn’t need to know about her family’s personal matters.
“No reason you need to know about,” The crown princess growled.
Billy held up his hands in a surrendering manner, “Alright, no need to get snippy. I was just curious.”
Barb growled underneath her breath, as the soft rock troll exited the room. Billy wearing that smug smile with his perfect teeth. She needed to punch him again, in the face this time!
Char gripped his guitar tightly but was still careful not to mess with the freshly tuned strings. The roaring crowd just hidden from view, by the curtained threshold that separated the backstage from the show. His stomach was in knots, and brain had been absorbed by this light swimmy feeling.
It was his 9th birthday. Since he had been spending the last few months learning guitar, Dad has asked him if he wanted to have his next birthday also be his coronation concert. Fancy coronation ceremonies were strictly for the crowning of new kings and queens. For princesses and princes, there was first their Ashing Rite, and then a concert where they would be brought on stage and presented to the people as an heir to the crown.
Barb’s coronation as crown princess was done over the course of three days. Well, that was what Char had been told at least. A week after her hatching was her Ashing Rite, which was public in front of a crowd of subjects eager to see the newborn princess, and then two days later Dad performed with baby Barb on stage, serenading his daughter with music.
That was how the initiation of new princesses and princes was usually done.
Char was anything but usual. He wasn’t an infant when he came to live with his father and sister, and his Ashing Rite happened at 8 and a half years old. Not to mention he was a Pop troll.
The grey trolling swallowed down the bile that creeped up his throat. Things would forever be different after tonight. While Dad always said Char was prince, he was always kept locked away from the attention that role gave. Kept hidden to heal and adjust. This show would be the first time that he had been presented to the public as a prince. A fully burned Prince of rock. Second born child of King Thrash, and next in line after his sister. A crown might look light in appearance but was oh so heavy when worn.
There would be no going back after this.
“Hey? You good, Charcoal Stick? You look like you’re about to throw up,” Barb said seemingly suddenly at his side.
“I might…and pass out…and pee my pants,” Char squeaked nervously.
“Sounds like you have a lot of problems,” Barb said, “What’s on your mind?”
“What if I mess up?”
“Mess up? Mess up what?”
“The show,” Char looked up at his sister, “What if I mess up and ruin everything? Then the people hate me…and then you and dad hate me! And then you leave me alone!”
“Whoa, whoa slow down,” Barb said kneeling in front of him. Her hands comfortingly on his shoulders, “Okay first. Me and Dad will never leave you.”
“You won’t?” He sniffed.
“Of course not! You’re my brother, and big sisters don’t leave their little brothers. Ever. And Dad loves you more than anyone. Now, second, if you mess up just smile and act like it was on purpose.”
Char didn’t feel convinced on that second part.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Barb said, “Believe it or not, screw ups on stage happen all the time. No one in the crowd cares, unless the mess up is like extremely dangerous and people could get hurt.”
Char bit his lip. His hands clenching and unclenching with nerves.
“Okay, listen,” Barb started, “You know the song, right?”
Char nodded, humming in an affirmative manner.
“The lyrics, the notes, all that?”
“Yes.”
“Then all you have to do is go out there, trust your instincts, which are rocking awesome, and have fun.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, everything is going to be awesome, even if you mess up. All these people are here to see you, just as you,” She playfully poked him in the chest, “Not as a perfect performance. Besides me and dad will be starting everything off. Just wait for your que and join when you’re ready.”
“One minute till stage time!” one of the managers called out.
Taking advantage of the little time left, Char leaped into his sister’s arms and squeezed her tightly.
“Thank you, Barb.”
“Anytime, anyplace Charcoal Stick. After all I do have some wisdom to give.”
“No thanks, wouldn’t want you to run out,” Char teased.
“Heeey,” Barb broke from the hug and gave Char a noogie. The trolling struggled against the strong hold of his older sister’s embrace, but it was futile. In the end his hair was messed up…but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use it to latch onto Barb’s wrist and twist out of her hold.
“Whoa hey! That’s cheating!”
Char laughed.
“Barbara,” Dad called, “It’s time.”
Barb gave Char’s back a pat, “Just remember, have fun.”
“Nothing changes?”
Barb shook her head, before running towards the stage “Nothing changes.”
Char crept closer to watch his father and sister, from backstage. He could only catch a small glimpse of the crowd, but what he could see was a vast sea of muted colors that bubbled and thrashed with rough waves of momentum. The stormy sea only grew fiercer once Dad and Barb stepped into the bright spotlights.
“Greetings! Citizens of Volcano Rock City!” Dad screamed out to the crowd, throwing up a Rocker’s salute towards them, “I’m sure that we’re all quite excited tonight, yes?!”
The crowd cheered.
“Wonderful! Now, I have heard some rumors about my family that have been going around in recent years and I need to clarify a few things. Yes, it’s true, I am now a father of two!”
Once more came a roar of applause and excited screams.
“And for medical reasons I kept him out of the public eye, I’m sure you all can understand. However, now things are different and tonight I am pleased to introduce you all to your prince, with this opening song.”
Dad looked to Barb and she stepped forward, and began to pluck at her guitar. The back up players taking center stage with her
“Put on your War paint!” Dad started them off, and the crowd roared at the exclaimation.
“You are a brick tied to me that’s dragging me down! Strike a match and I’ll burn you to the ground!”
Char let his foot tap against the stone floor to the beat, as he watched his father. Dad moved slowly on the stage, the mic in his hand held close to his lips. Yet, his steps weren’t underwhelming. His father’s stage strut was a low energy one but it drew the audience in, a calm eye in the middle of the hurricane high song.
“We are the jack-o-lanters in July setting fire to the sky! Here, here comes it’s a rising tide!”
Dad suddenly whirled around towards Barb, the two harmonizing as the pre-chorus hit.
“Put on your war paint!”
The drums swelled and Barb plucked her strings faster. Char’s heart felt funny.
“Cross walks! And cross hearts! And hope-to-dies! Silver clouds with grey lining!”
The energy calmed and so did their voices, going from shouting proclamations to whispering vows.
“So we can take the world back from the heart attack, One maniac at a time we will take it back!”
The energy jumped and so with it did Char’s pulse
“You know time crawls one when you’re waiting for the song to start! SO dance alone to the beat of your heart!”
With the pre-chorus ending, and the chorus began to burn. Barb began to jump, screaming passion into her play. Her and Dad danced around each other in a disconnected jig. Why were his own legs itching to join them?
“Hey! Young Blood! Doesn’t it feel like our time is running out!”
Running out? Was time running out?
“I’m gonna change you! Like a remix!”
Changed? Had Char changed? The grey trolling supposed he had. He liked it.
“Then I’ll raise you! like a phoenix!”
A phoenix, a creature born of the dead ashes of an end. A new beginning. A smile stretched across his face, he liked that.
Dad retreated back into his keyboard, taking over the music, while tossing the mic over to Barb for the second verse.
“Bring home the boys! And scrap! Scrap metal the tanks! Get hitch! Make a career of robbin’ Banks!”
She screamed, and the crowd roared, feeling the excitement that blasted from her voice.
“So play it out, I’m wide awake, it’s a scene about me! There’s something in your way and now someone is gonna pay!”
His sister’s voice was rough, but it carried such power with in it. Power that he felt with in his chest. Char’s lungs filled with air. Why did he want to scream?
“Because the world is just a teller and we are wearing black masks! ‘You broke our spirit,’ said the note we pass!”
She spun around, leaping back to Dad. The chorus starting up again.
“So we can take the world back from the heart attack, One maniac at a time we will take it back!”
“You know time crawls one when you’re waiting for the song to start! SO dance alone to the beat of your heart!”
While continuing the chorus Barb locked eyes with him and nodded. Char swallowed, that was his que. There was a hesitance that settled in his stomach with a dull ache. Something telling him not to go out there, but…There was still pull as well. Something about the lights. The rhythm making is tongue twitch. The drum beat in sync with his heart.
He took a step forward. Out of the curtains a spotlight found him instantly. His eyes were blinded as the crowds screamed. Vision cleared slowly, a sea of muted colors and spiked clothes came into focus. Their screams disjointed, like they were separated from him. He couldn’t feel their excitement…not like he could feel his family’s…
Distantly he could hear his father and sister finish the chorus, eyes went to him for the bridge. His hand moved up the neck of his guitar, as a mic on a stand ascended from the floor until it stood tall in front of him…waiting for his voice. He took a breath and strummed the first chord.
Words tipping his tongue and…
“The war is won, before it’s began…”
As the song flowed from his body a warmth overtook him. A feeling of elation came over his being so strongly. A missing piece of his soul clicked into place, and he was finally complete.
“Release the doves! Surrender love!”
He smiled, never wanting this to end.
“The war is won, before it’s begun! Release the doves! Surrender love!”
Barb’s jaw dropped at Char’s voice. Never had she heard her brother sing. It started out slow, and scared but with each word it grew in strength. And, holy sh*t! With just a few words she knew he had been blessed with a falsetto made of f*cking gold.
“The war is won, before it’s begun! Release the doves! Surrender love!”
She watched as the music made its connection with his soul. His posture relaxed, and he began bouncing to the beat. Barb felt the growing excitement swelling up within her brother as his voice grew louder. Stronger. More defiant of his fear.
The back up singer began to chant, linking their voices with her brother’s fully embracing him into the song.
“Wave the white flag! Wave the white Flag!”
“The war is won, before it’s begun!”
“Wave the white flag! Wave the white Flag!”
“Release the doves! Surrender love!”
Char turned around looking straight at Barb with bright blue eyes…and skin? The trolling dashed forward. Watery blue washing out the grey in his body and a large grin plastered on his face. Running towards them. Running towards his family.
They took the final chorus together.
“Hey! Young Blood! Doesn’t it feel like our time is running out!”
“I’m gonna change you! Like a remix!”
“Then I’ll raise you! like a phoenix!”
Char jumped and danced around her; energy unhinged with joy. The music made his feet move.
“Wearing our vintage misery! No, I think I looked a little better on me!
“I’m gonna change you! Like a remix! Then I’ll raise you! like a phoenix!”
Barb joined in the link between their souls transferring that bouncing joy. Together the siblings pranced around their father. Dad smiling wide with pride as the whole family continued to sing together.
“Put on your war paint!
The song came to a sudden end, with nothing more needed to be said. Barb left catching her breath, as the crowd roared. Dad stepped out from his place behind the keyboard and scooped up Char, putting the boy on his shoulder. Barb let him pull her to his side. Char looked down almost for permission, and Dad nodded. A proud smile on his face as the blue (blue!) trolling threw the salute towards the crowds making them scream again.
Barb bounced running to grab a fallen mic, “Prince Char, everyone!” she screamed. Fully solidifying her brother’s place.
Blue or grey. Pop or rock. Char would be her brother. Her right hand. A prince to the rock tribe. He was right where he was supposed to be, on stage with his family. No one was ever going to hurt him. Never again.
