Chapter Text
Castle Weissbart
Once upon a time, in a land far away, across the diamond sea and on the other side of the crystal mountain, there lived a man who thought himself very unfortunate. He had a doting wife who gave him three handsome sons and three fair daughters, but they were very, very poor.
One day, the poor man's wife began to cry desperately.
"What's wrong, my dove?" asked the man, and his wife began to cry even harder.
"I am with child again," she said, "we are barely scraping by as it is, when this babe is born, we will have to eat the boots off your feet."
The poor man heaved a great big sigh, he kissed his doting wife goodbye, hugged his three handsome sons and three fair daughters and left their little house with his trusty ax to become a highwayman.
He made his way deep into the forest, hoping to find travelers on the narrow road crossing the wilderness. He waited three days and three nights, but the road remained deserted. Just when he was about to give up and go home to his starving family in shame, he heard a voice singing deep among the trees.
The poor man followed the voice far away from the road, and at nightfall, he found himself on the edge of a clearing overlooking a wild river.
On the clearing, he saw a strange little man with a dirty, white beard so long, that he dragged it behind him on the ground. He was dancing around a large, dead tree, with gems, jewels, and gold strewn all around him.
The poor man could scarcely believe his eyes as it looked like the wheel of fortune had finally turned in his favor, and he sneaked his way across the clearing to hit the little man on the head with his trusty ax and rob him of his riches.
Just as he raised his ax, the little man spun around and lifted the poor man above his head like he weighed less than a feather and tossed him away with enough force to knock the very breath out of him.
The poor man - realizing that the creature in front of him was no ordinary being - got on his knees and begged the strange little man to spare his life, as that was all he had left in this world. And if he would not spare his life, he begged for his boots to be sent back to his doting wife so his family would have something to eat.
The strange little man stroked his beard as the poor man cowered in front of him.
"I can see that you are a desperate man," he said finally. "And I'm not a heartless beast. We both have something that the other wants, so why don't we strike a deal? I have all these gems, jewels and gold, and I have more treasures of the earth in my home - and you have none. You have a doting wife and three handsome sons and three fair daughters with one more babe on the way - and I have none. If you agree to give me your next child for a bride, I will give you riches enough that you will never be wanting for anything again, what you say?"
The poor man thought long and hard on the offer. He dearly loved his doting wife and his handsome sons and fair daughters, but this next babe wasn't even born yet and still has caused nothing but misery; making his wife cry with sorrow and making him turn to the ways of the highwayman. If he turned the strange little man down, he would surely be killed and then his whole family would starve to death, babe and all.
"All right," the poor man said, "For your riches, I will agree to your deal, and give the babe to you for a bride."
The little man laughed with glee, and quickly hopped around, picking up all the gems, jewels and gold strewn around the clearing into a sack. When he was done, he spit into his palm and held his hand out for the poor man.
"Let us shake on our deal; may God smite you and the Devil bite you if you break it." And so they shook.
"Very well," the little man said, dancing with joy, "Take this treasure and build a grand castle in this very spot, and in the middle of it build a great big tower, taller than my beard is long, with a room at the very top fit for my wedding night. When my bride turns sixteen I will come and take what you owe me."
And with that, the little man disappeared into a hole between the roots of the old, dead tree.
The poor man was now richer than the king of the land, and he danced all the way to his little house to the music of the gems, jewels, and gold tinkling in his sack. He kept his word and built a grand castle on the clearing with a tall, white tower. In memory of the strange little man, he named it Weissbart, and he lived there happily with his doting wife, his three handsome sons and three fair daughters…
He was watching TV with two of his sisters when his father came into the room.
"Bryd," the man said, and from the corner of his eye, he could see the twins barely suppressing a snicker, as all of his siblings usually did when his name was called. Bryd thought it should have gotten old in the last… almost sixteen years, but apparently not. All the other children in the family had normal names - like James, and Joanna and Jonathan - he was the only one who had to live with the constant wedding jokes, and in his darker moments, he was pretty sure his name was the first sign of how his parents felt towards him…
"…Bryd, have you heard a word I said?" his father asked, he didn't raise his voice - he rarely did - but there was a certain note of irritation there, that was painfully familiar. Bryd winced and tried an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, I was just… thinking about something. What did you say?" he asked. If anything, his father just looked even more cross, his mouth a thin, pale line. Not even his sisters dared to make a sound, even though the twins were always their parents' favorite.
"Why are you like this?" the man asked, quietly enough to deny, but loud enough for Bryd to hear. "I said," he continued in his normal tone, "that I want to talk to you in my study. Now."
That… that couldn't be good.
Bryd swallowed and stood on legs that suddenly felt weak. He followed his father to his office. Inside, everything was covered with mahogany shelves and books and the faint smell of tobacco smoke.
His father didn't stop at the couch in the corner, but walked behind his desk to sit in his big, leather office chair, motioning for Bryd to take the seat on the other side of the desk. The only personal item on it was a family portrait; with his parents sitting in twin armchairs and Bryd's six siblings standing around them. They were all smiling at the camera. He had been away at boarding school when it was taken.
His father took a large, brown envelope from his desk. It had an actual wax seal on it, already broken.
Bryd had no idea where this was going, he felt like he was in front of the judge, but he couldn't fathom what crime he could have committed. His grades might not have been stellar, but they didn't warrant an intervention.
He cleared his throat nervously, while his father just looked at him. The man wasn't a very animated person at the best of times, but now his face looked like it had been carved from stone, his eyes were dark and stoic as he sized Bryd up.
He couldn't help but take a deep breath when his father finally looked away, like he'd been allowed to come up for air while drowning.
"Your great-grandfather was ninety-eight years old when we were expecting you," he started, looking at the envelop in front of him.
This was definitely not a direction he could have anticipated.
"He was overjoyed that we decided to have a seventh child, and wanted very much to meet you. Unfortunately, he passed away a few days before you were born."
Bryd knew this. He'd… always knew his parents treated him differently than their other children. They were more distant, barely interested in anything to do with him, and he couldn't help but make up one theory after another to explain it. When he found out that his great-grandfather died around the time he was born he thought that might be it.
It had to be something, because the other option was that he just… wasn't as lovable as his siblings.
"In fact, he asked us to name you 'Bryd' in memory of a little sister he lost when she was just a teenager, it's an old family name, and we decided to honor his wishes."
Bryd felt a small spark of irritation, but tried not to show it. He'd always suspected that it had to be a girl's name - nothing else made sense - and he couldn't believe his parents still went ahead and put that on his birth certificate… How much suffering and ridicule they could have saved him if they just changed a letter or two? The old man was already dead by then anyway, it wasn't like he would have minded.
His father seemed oblivious to his annoyance, and pulled out a few neatly typed pages from the envelope, running his eyes over the dark letters like he wanted to check that they were as he remembered.
"But your name is not the only thing your great-grandfather left you with," he said, looking at him again. He seemed… a bit weary. Old. Almost vulnerable, if only for a second. "The family has an old estate in Europe. It's been our ancestral home for many generations until the family made the decision to move overseas three generations ago, after your great-grandaunt… passed away. It's called Weissbart Castle, and when you turn sixteen, it will be yours."
Bryd wasn't sure he heard that right. "Wh-what?"
His father gave him an irritated glance. "Where is your head today? I hope I don't have to repeat myself. Your great-grandfather left you Weissbart. While we haven't been living there for a long while, it has always been staffed and maintained, so it should be in perfect condition. According to the stipulations of the will - and to the family customs - you will have to spend your birthday there. It's just a formality, but I don't see why we shouldn't observe the tradition," his father said, like it was self-explanatory.
His birthday was only three days away.
"It's summer break, there's no obstacle to you leaving as soon as possible. In fact, I've already bought your ticket, Roger will take you to the airport tomorrow morning, and the chauffeur there will pick you up."
Bryd sputtered, his tongue tied by all the protest that came to his mind. This was… this was a bit too much all of a sudden. "But… but I just got back from school," he said weakly.
He hadn't even unpacked yet…
His father gave him a cold look. "Exactly, it's perfect timing. Unless your calendar is full of social events I don't know about?" he asked, his voice cutting. He knew very well that Bryd didn't have any close friends. It wasn't easy to build a social circle in an all-boys school with a name like 'Bryd' even for people who were a lot more outgoing than him.
He shook his head, unable to look at his father.
"No, I didn't have anything planned," he admitted quietly. His father hummed in agreement.
"As I thought. I think it might do you some good to take more responsibility for the family's future, this will be a good project for you... The plane leaves at seven, Roger will have the car ready by three AM, so you better start packing and make it an early night."
And just like that, it was done.