Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Well, starting now, I'm learning fast on this journey to the past.” - Anastasia

It was weeks after Yakko’s coronation, when the palace was finally deemed liveable again, that the topic finally came up.

Yakko was listening to the latest reports from Rita; she’d just come back from helping feed and clothe the people of Acme Falls, when the thought struck and he blurted out, “I want to visit the orphanage.”

Everyone went quiet. Rita, Brain and Scratchy didn’t look surprised, though Scratchy certainly looked concerned.

“Your Majesty, are you sure?” one of the council member’s asked. “You’ve a packed schedule.”

Yakko rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “I’m sure.”

They all exchanged uncertain glances. “My lord, are you quite sure?” another asked. 

“Quite,” Yakko drawled in his best snooty voice.

“Eh, what’s the fuss?” Rita asked with an elegant shrug.

“I believe what they’re all too afraid to say,” Brain said. “Is that they’re concerned it will bring back unnecessary trauma.”

Okay, admittedly, Yakko hadn’t considered that- but he was nothing if not stubborn. As if he was going to let those stupid matrons upset him! He’d never backed down to them before. They’d been cruel; they’d shouted and threatened to hit the kids, and they’d frequently locked him in the attic- but even as Elo, Yakko hadn’t backed down.

He sure wasn’t going to back down now.

“They may have a point, Yakko,” Scratchy said gently. He had that awful guilty look on his face, the one he always got when the topic of the orphanage and Yakko’s missing years were even vaguely hinted at. Yakko hated that look. No matter what anyone said- no matter what Yakko said- Scratchy kept blaming himself.

“I’ll be fine,” Yakko said. A lightbulb briefly flashed to life over his head. “You guys can come with me! We can bring stuff for the kids! Brain, make a list, we’ll need food, clothes, toys- oh, and candy, not just healthy stuff, they don’t have any treats- and blankets, and we’ll need to look into more staff, and repairing the roof, and-”

Brain was dutifully and quickly writing everything down. The council continued to look dreadfully concerned, and that awful guilty look didn’t quite leave Scratchy’s face, but at least he looked interested in what Yakko was saying, engaged in the conversation.

The snow was finally starting to melt. They went to the orphanage by carriage, and Yakko could have laughed at what a change it was. He’d left the place with nothing to his name; only the clothes on his back, a book of fairytales and a hope he refused to let go of. And now he was returning in a white and gold carriage, sitting with his siblings and Scratchy, with their guards and some servants following behind in a smaller carriage, piled high with supplies.

The orphanage looked just the same as before. Yakko didn’t know why he expected it to look any different, really. He felt different. He knew he sure looked different too. 

He didn’t fit here anymore, and it was an odd feeling. It was only weeks ago, a few months ago really, that he’d left but it felt like a lifetime already.

It looked the same, but it felt smaller somehow.

As usual, he, Wakko and Dot ignored their guards offering a hand down from the carriage; they jumped down by themselves, Dot doing a little twirl and Yakko landing on one foot, Wakko exaggeratedly windmilling his arms.

Scratchy rolled his eyes at their antics, but didn’t say anything, accepting the guard’s help down.

Everyone was lined up in the front garden, from the youngest child to the eldest and every member of staff. The gates were wide open, the doors were open behind everyone and Yakko had to raise an eyebrow at how terrified the head matron looked.

But of all places, he wasn’t going to be intimidated here.

He led the way forward. The staff bowed and curtsied deeply, heads bowed. The elder children followed suit; most of the younger ones wobbled as they tried to copy them.

One little toon however, ran from the line. She was tiny, only four years old; a little white rabbit toon; her ears were bright yellow at the tips and tied with bedraggled pink ribbons.

“Elo!” she cried happily. “You’re back!” She dodged a teacher’s hand and sprinted straight to Yakko, throwing her scrawny arms around his leg. “Hi,” she said brightly, bouncing in place. “Is that your new uniform?”

“Sort of- and uh, it's Yakko,” Yakko laughed. “Hi, Daisy.”

“Young lady,” the head matron hissed, though her voice shook with nerves. “Get back in line.”

Yakko narrowed his eyes at her and the woman backed away. “She’s fine where she is,” he said coldly. He looked at the other kids and rolled his eyes, gesturing for them to rise. “Jeez, stand up, would ya? Don’t be weird.”

It was like breaking a spell; the kids looked relieved, standing up straight with chuckles and giggles. They hurried forward to ask questions, peering at the carriage, pointing and gaping at the supplies the servants brought forward.

Daisy smiled at Dot.

“You’re so cute!” she said.

Dot preened happily and let the tiny bunny take her hand. “You too,” Dot said, a rare compliment if there ever was one. Wakko was already helping some of the others make snowballs with what was left of the snow- they were more like slushballs, but they definitely enjoyed throwing them around.

The head matron gulped when Yakko looked at her and curtsied low again.

“Your Majesty,” she said.

“Long time no see,” Yakko said cheerfully. “You didn’t think I’d forget you, did I? After all...You’re all my special friends. ”

The staff had the good sense to look petrified. Yakko waved the servants forward and they soon took charge, giving orders and examining every inch of the orphanage, from the cracked tiles on the roof (not to mention the hole) to the damp floors and mold in the dining room. 

Yakko and Scratchy confronted the head matron in her office; it was on the second floor of the orphanage, and one of the only rooms that were decently furnished and warm.

“You’ll be getting new staff,” Yakko told her. “They’ll be arriving on Monday.”

“I- thank you, Your Majesty.”

“They’ll be reporting directly to me,” Yakko told her flatly. “As soon as I hear something I don’t like, whoever's involved will be out on their butts. Oh, and speaking of- Scratchy?”

Scratchy came forward with a grim smile and a long list. “Zis,” he said. “Is the list of staff zat is fired, and who is going to be retrained- yourself included. Ve have a new head matron selected, one zat is actually trained. Best start working on your resume."

"What!?" The matron looked horrified. Yakko wondered if she'd seriously expected to keep her job.

“I’ll leave you two to chat,” Yakko said cheerfully. “Scratchy’s really wanted to meet you!”

“I vill be vith you shortly, Yakko,” Scratchy said, looking at the matron with murder in his eyes. “Go catch up vith your friends.”

Yakko was barely down the stairs when the yelling started.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW UNFIT ZIS PLACE IS FOR KIDSES!?”

He almost felt sorry for the matron. Scratchy had an impressive set of lungs on him.

Wakko and Dot were in the common room with the younger kids, all of them crowded into the damp room and huddled by the weak fire.

“This place is horrible,” Dot muttered to him. She looked so sad and Yakko couldn’t stand it.

“Dot-”

“You had to live here,” she said. “And- and they still do.” Yakko pulled her close and Wakko immediately pressed against his other side.

Daisy came over to tug on his slacks.

“Do you have your book?” she asked.

Grinning, Wakko pulled the fairytale book from his gag bag and passed it to Yakko. The book really was dreadfully old, cracked at the spine, with dog-eared pages and faded pictures- but it was one of the best books they’d had. Yakko had found it, forgotten in the park one winter, mostly lying in a puddle, during one of their rare trips out. 

“Which story?” Yakko asked the group of kids at large.

The shouts immediately started.

“Cinderella!”

“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Rapunzel!”

“Princess And The Pea!”

“No, Princess And The Frog !”

“Sleeping Beauty!”

“Red Riding Hood!”

This, at least, didn’t feel different at all. Yakko settled into his seat, his siblings practically squashing him, the others crowded in as close as they could get.

“I’m mostly hearing Rapunzel,” Yakko said. There were some groans of protest, but mostly excited whoops of triumph and they settled in to listen.

“Are you really a prince now, Elo?” Daisy asked halfway through the story. Some of the others shushed her impatiently.

“Well- king, actually. And my name’s Yakko,” Yakko corrected. He grinned at his siblings. “These two are a prince and princess though.”

Daisy brightened, scooting closer. One of her ribbons was coming undone and Yakko automatically bent down to fix it.

“It’s like Cinderella!” she said. A few kids nodded in agreement; most just looked baffled, and some rolled their eyes, wanting to hear the story.

Yakko considered it. Well, he hadn’t fallen asleep in cinders, but a damp floor was close enough- and the staff were all the evil step-family stand ins he needed. He snickered as he wondered if that made Pinky and Brain the fairy godmothers.

“I suppose so,” he said. He held the book up. “Are you guys gonna let me read or not?”

It was sundown when they left. Scratchy walked into the common room, head held high, the head matron and a few others trailing after him with bowed heads.

“Time to go, kidses,” he said. Wakko put the book back in his gag-bag, and accidentally-on-purpose stomped on the head matron’s foot on his way out. Dot walked past with her little nose in the air, ignoring the staff as she passed them.

Yakko paused in the front doorway. He looked around at the draughty entrance, the cracked ceiling and peeling wallpaper and dirty rug. 

They’d fix it, he swore to himself. They’d fix all of it.

He marched down the front steps after his siblings.

“Bye, Yakko!” one of the boys called from the front door, a pale human, only Dot’s age in too-big clothes. 

Yakko did what he’d done those months ago when he first left; he walked backwards, waving with both hands and pulling funny faces. Laughing, the kids began to shout their farewells; from tiny Daisy to the eighteen-year-olds about to leave themselves. They waved and shouted, cracking jokes and pulling faces.

Yakko jumped into the carriage and immediately poked his head back out.

“I’ll be back!” he shouted to them. Wakko and Dot joined him in waving. Even Scratchy relented and waved, smiling. 

They waved until the orphanage was out of sight.

“It vill take a lot of fixing,” Scratchy said. “But it is fixable.”

“We fixed the palace,” Yakko pointed out. “If we can fix that, we can fix anything.”

Chapter Text

“You remind me of a time when things weren't so complicated, all I need is to see your face.” - Ariana Grande

There were a lot of things Dot didn’t remember about the palace, but seeing it in its current state was still depressing. 

She didn’t remember the beauty of the gardens in spring and summer, she didn’t remember the big marble fountains out front and back, nor how she and her brothers used to jump into them. She didn’t remember the roses twining their way around her parents' balcony, or the hallway full of family portraits- but she remembered the ballroom, her father’s big warm study with the fire always crackling; she remembered her brothers’ rooms, she remembered the stars painted on Yakko’s ceiling and the blue canopy above her parents’ bed; she remembered bouncing on Wakko’s bed and the snacks hidden under his pillows.

She remembered her room.

She remembered the pink wallpaper with roses; she remembered her bed on its dais, with gossamer pink and lilac curtains and a pink duvet. She remembered her teddies and dolls, the fluffy rug and gigantic wardrobe which she used to hide in and jump out at unsuspecting palace staff, or her parents, or Yakko and Wakko when the mood took her. She remembered her big mirror and vanity, engraved with roses and lilies. 

Dot remembered her pegasus toys with their rainbow wings; she remembered her snowglobes and pretty jewellery boxes. She remembered her very best doll house: a miniature version of the palace with little dolls modelled after herself and her family, with stables attached and two horse dolls, even servant dolls. She remembered playing with it for hours on end, never tiring of it. She remembered sitting on the settee as her mother brushed her fur and tied Dot’s favourite flower-tie around her ears. 

She remembered, every night, how her parents would tuck her in. She remembered the story- that they’d wanted a daughter and planted a garden; that she was born from the prettiest flower.

“Who’s the cutest girl?” William asked.

“I am!”

“How’d you ever get so cute?” Angelina cooed.

“I was born that way," Dot said with utter solemnity, her little nose in the air as her parents chuckled fondly.

It had been her room, her space.

She didn’t want to see it destroyed.

No, there were a lot of things Dot didn’t remember about her home, but she still felt awful and hollow as she was escorted through the ruined palace. Her nose wrinkled at all the dust and dirt, and she tried very hard to pretend she didn’t see the scorch marks or bullet holes in the walls.

Wakko clung to Yakko’s hand, tongue poking out, eyebrows furrowed as they walked along. Dot couldn’t quite decide if he looked frightened or angry. Maybe a bit of both.

It got weirder the deeper they got into the palace.

In here, the damage was less obvious. The dirt was still an inch thick, and there were some broken windows, but there were still paintings on the walls, vases on tables, statues and suits of armour lining the hallways. A lot of the heavy curtains were still drawn closed over the windows, the same as they’d been the night they fled.

It felt like time had stood still here. As far as Dot could tell (and she’d freely admit she wasn’t too sure) everything was in its place.

Scratchy looked stricken, so she supposed she must be right. It was weird, she thought, to know he remembered more than the three of them combined. Heck, Yakko technically remembered less than she did, but his memories were coming back more and more every day.

They turned the corner towards the family bedrooms and Dot followed Wakko’s lead by grabbing Yakko’s hand.

She didn’t want to see her room in ruins, looted, her belongings destroyed or vanished. She didn’t want to see the windows smashed.

The guards did them the courtesy of waiting at the end of the hall.

Taking a deep breath, Dot opened her door.

Oh, was her first thought. It looked...the same. Right as she remembered it.

She’d left the curtains on the window nearest her bed opened; she’d wanted to look at the stars and moon that fateful night. Her bed was unmade from her hurry to grab her most essential belongings and run as her mother urged her. The shots and screams had woken them in the middle of the night, without warning, and Dot had shoved a few warm dresses and her favourite doll into a small bag, letting her mother help her into her thicket, warmest jacket, still in her nightgown. The wardrobe even still hung open a little; she hadn’t shut it properly as she’d ran.

Dot shivered, feeling the ghost of her mother’s hands on her shoulders. Seeing her room like this frightened her more than she really wanted to admit. 

It was the same. And it wasn't. 

It wouldn't ever be the same, not really.

“I fell asleep in here,” Yakko blurted out. She was already getting used to Yakko saying things like that, as memories jumped out at him. Truth be told, even when they were little she’d been used to it; he often just blurted out whatever he was thinking.

“You often fell asleep together, ja,” Scratchy said with a nod. “You remember?” 

“No, I mean- I- I fell asleep in here when I met Pinky and Brain,” Yakko said. 

“Really?” Dot looked up at him with wide eyes. Her chest suddenly felt very light. She couldn’t quite find the words to explain why that helped make her feel a little better. She looked to the bed, but Yakko shook his head.

“Over there,” he said, nodding towards the settee. 

The pretty pink and white settee, where her mom had brushed her fur, where her dad had presented her with a new snowglobe or a little trinket; the very same settee where Yakko read to her and Wakko, where Wakko got the idea to drop water balloons onto the courtiers as they passed by her window.

“Why?” she asked.

Yakko shrugged. “I dunno,” he said. “This was the first room I came into and- well, I got the feeling I’d been here before.” He laughed sheepishly, not quite meeting her gaze. “Which I guess I had been. I just...It felt weird, but I felt like it was okay to be in here.”

“It was,” Dot said quietly. “It is.” Swallowing the last of her nerves, she let go of Yakko’s hand and went to her dollhouse. She knelt in front of it, her fingers lighting brushing over the roof, her eyes glued to the miniature versions of her family. They were all so terribly dusty, but undamaged. They just needed a bit of cleaning.

They were still here. She could still keep them.

It felt so weird to be here again. Looking around and realising everything was exactly as she left it made her shudder, it left a weird feeling in her stomach...But it was better than walking in and seeing everything in ruins. So much better.

She wondered if Wakko and Yakko’s rooms would be the same. She wondered if they’d feel the same way she did.

She picked up the dolls of her family and tucked them into the pockets of her cloak; she looked at the settee and smiled. Whether Yakko had known it or not, he’d felt safe enough to sleep in here. It made her feel a little better. Her room had, in an odd way, provided comfort the way it had always done for her. It wasn’t like she’d done anything, but it kind of made her feel like she had.

Like, maybe, the subconscious memory of her had helped.

She turned back to Yakko and Wakko.

“Ready?” she asked. Wakko’s room was right next door.

No one needed to say that they’d be leaving William and Angelina’s room until last; it was silently understood before they’d even set foot on the palace grounds.

Wakko still looked unnerved, a look that didn’t suit him at all, but he also had that stubborn look on his face and he marched towards his room with his head held high. Dot put her hands in her pockets, holding onto the dolls.

She hadn’t been prepared to see her home in ruins. She hadn’t been prepared for the parts of it that looked the same.

But they could fix it all. This was their home, and she knew they’d do whatever it took to restore it.

First things first, Dot thought, nose wrinkling again. We need to do something about all the dirt.

Wakko’s hand shook as he reached for his door handle. For a moment, he froze. Yakko rested a hand on his back, and Scratchy opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Wakko opened the door a crack.

Fists clenched, skinny shoulders squared, Wakko opened the door and led the way in.

Chapter Text

“Someone holds me safe and warm, horses prance through a silver storm; figures dancing gracefully across my memory.” - Anastasia

Wakko’s room, like Dot’s, was just as he left it. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure the inner parts of the palace would all be undisturbed. Maybe a few things would be missing, but he doubted it would be anything he’d really notice.

He’d heard rumours of people selling their things. Brain had told them, factual as always, that desperate people tried to pass off anything as belonging to the Warners, in the hopes of making their fortune. Some of it was legitimate, some of it wasn’t.

As far as Wakko could see, nothing major was missing from his room.

The first thing he noticed was how quiet it was, which was probably stupid of him, because the whole palace was quiet, but five years ago there’d always been noise. Even when he was lazily lounging in bed, he’d hear noise from Yakko and Dot’s rooms, or from the gardens; he’d hear servants walking around in the halls and gossiping. 

Not now. That was all gone now.

The noise, the laughter, the people...They were all gone. It was just them now.

He didn’t like this. As he looked around, fur bristling, he wondered if it would be easier if everything in here was missing or ruined. He didn’t know what to do with it all. Was he supposed to keep it? Throw it out? That wardrobe full of clothes- they were all too small for him now, and he didn’t like wearing court clothes anyway. 

He picked up a bag of jellies from the floor and sniffed it. Honestly, it didn’t seem that bad…A little melted and funny smelling, but not too bad.

“Five years and five seconds rule!” Wakko said, opening the bag.

“Don’t even think about it,” Scratchy said flatly. He snatched the bag away and set it aside. Huffing, Wakko walked towards his bed.

Yep, he thought. Just the same. 

There were candy wrappers on the bed; the blanket was still crumpled and flung back from when he’d jumped out of bed. The pillows were in disarray. The curtains around the four-poster bed were mostly closed. He remembered William shaking him awake, his voice sharp and urgent.

“Wakko, quick, son, we have to go.”

He remembered lying in that bed with a bad flu and clinging to Yakko’s arm as the doctor checked him over. He remembered Angelina dismissing the servants and helping him get ready for bed herself and tucking him in. 

Wakko couldn’t quite get his fur to flatten again. Being in here again felt unreal. It felt like a dream. Whether it was a good one or a bad one, he couldn’t be sure.

They were all watching him, waiting for him to react. Probably waiting for him to start crying or something, he knew.

He didn’t feel like crying, but he felt like he might start screaming if someone didn’t make some noise.

“You okay?” Yakko asked quietly. Wakko shook his head, biting his lip. This all felt wrong. 

Wordlessly, Yakko pulled a chewy pretzel, wrapped in white paper from his pocket. They’d all brought snacks along, just in case. They’d known this could take all day.

Wakko took it, chewing absentmindedly as he wandered around his room. It was too quiet. It was too dark as well, the curtains were still closed. He looked at the curtains and was surprised by the sudden stab of anger he felt. It was such a little detail but he suddenly hated the sight of them.

Wakko shoved the last of the pretzel into his mouth and yanked the curtains open one by one, so harshly that dust scattered everywhere. He ran to his bed and pulled the blanket into place, smoothing it down and re-arranging the pillows the way he liked them. He left the candy wrappers where they were for now. After all, he still did that; fell asleep with sweets around him.

“It’s weird in here,” Wakko said. He looked around at all the toys and furniture, and a lot of it didn’t feel like his anymore.

He thought he’d like to keep the bed itself. The frame needed dusting down and polishing, but he’d like to keep it; the duvet and pillows and sheets would have to go. As far as he was concerned, a lot of the furniture could go too.

“It’s pretty weird,” Dot agreed.

“It’s too quiet, ” Wakko said. He may have been the most quiet of the trio, but he liked background noise. He liked knowing that other people were nearby. Right now the only noise outside was from the volunteers and their guards, looking through the palace grounds to see what could be fixed and what would need to be replaced.

“It is,” Yakko said, who hated silence. 

Scratchy looked at the three of them with obvious worry. “Ve do not have to do zis today, kidses,” he said.

Wakko scoffed, shoulders slouching. “Yeah we do,” he said, because he knew putting it off wouldn’t help. He was pretty sure that, if he left now, he’d only feel worse.

He couldn’t quite find all the right words, beyond that this was all so terribly weird. His room was full of dust and cobwebs; his stuff was exactly where he left it. If anything was missing, he couldn’t tell. Even with the curtains open, the windows were grimy, not letting in as much sunlight as he would have liked. 

He plopped himself down on the window seat, kicking his legs. It wasn’t that his room felt small or anything, but it was strange to know it was his. The pale-blue walls looked even paler after five years in darkness, with no upkeep; there were animals painted on the walls, faded and patchy as well. There were toys and colouring books on the shelves, a big plush panda in the corner, as big as William had been. It had been a birthday present.

Wakko wanted to keep that one, he took one glance and decided that.

But the rest...He didn’t know what to do with it.

Wakko liked to think he was usually pretty optimistic- and he was- but right now he felt out of his depth.

Yakko took his right hand, Dot took his left. Scratchy squeezed onto the window seat with them and rubbed Wakko’s back comfortingly. 

“Ve vill fix it,” Scratchy promised. “It vill take time, but ve vill.”

Wakko believed him. He wouldn’t say so out loud, but he always believed Scratchy. So he nodded; he squeezed his siblings’ hands and leaned against Scratchy’s hand.

He wished they could just wave a magic wand and make everything normal again, but he knew they couldn’t. And honestly, after dealing with Salazar, Wakko didn’t want any sorcerers, good or bad, near his home.

He looked up at Yakko.

“Ready?” he asked.

Yakko looked at the wall separating his room from Wakko’s and an odd look crossed his face. He almost looked ill.

But Yakko was a Warner at heart: stubborn and brave. He stood up first and Wakko and Dot followed; the three of them were still holding hands. Scratchy stood with them, keeping a keen and concerned eye on them.

Unlike Dot, Wakko didn’t take anything from his room, but just as they reached the door he raced back and flung the windows open as wide as they’d go, letting the cold fresh air in.

“That’s better!” he declared and joined hands with his siblings again. He took Scratchy’s hand as well and the four of them walked just a few steps to Yakko’s door.

“Ready?” Wakko asked again.

Yakko was frowning at the door like it was going to bite him.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Chapter Text

“In my dreams shadows call; there’s a light at the end of a hall.” - Anastasia: Broadway

It was a large room, and it would have been lovely once. The whole room, walls and ceiling included, was painted a rich, sapphire blue; sparkling silver stars had been painted on the ceiling, faded now. The floor was white, covered with thick silver rugs. There were too many toys to count, toys that Yakko-as-Elo  could only have dreamed of in the orphanage. 

The bed was big enough for a whole family, so high that Yakko was sure he’d still need to jump to get on. He could see a little step by the bed, no doubt so that his younger-self could have climbed up without help. It was a four poster bed, the headboard engraved with the Warner crest. The thick blue and gold curtains were tied back; the duvet was only slightly rumpled, with extra blankets thrown on top. 

It had been terribly cold that last night.

Yakko wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Not much of anything. He mostly felt confused and dizzy, fighting back a wave of nausea that threatened to knock him backwards.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to be in here. This was meant to be his room, but he didn’t feel any real attachment to it. It felt like a stranger’s room. He strained to remember something, some significant memory and came up blank. He remembered bouncing on that big bed with his siblings, he remembered reading by the window and on the floor, he remembered huffing and fussing as he was forced into formal clothing for banquets and state functions...But they were everyday memories, faded and fuzzy.

They still didn’t quite feel like his. 

Dot’s breathing hitched and Yakko turned to see where she was looking.

His little sister was staring at the back wall and Yakko frowned, wondering what had her looking so upset, why Wakko winced and why Scratchy couldn’t seem to look that way. It was just a wall. It didn’t even have any interesting paintings on it, it was just-

He felt like he’d been hit on the head.

“Vat are you three thinking?” Scratchy demanded. Yakko clutched his music box to his chest; Wakko and Dot clung to him and the banging and screaming was getting louder. He could smell smoke, he could hear gunshots and there was just so much screaming. He didn't know what was going on, he didn't understand, he just knew that everything was going very badly wrong.

He’d just wanted to get his music box, he didn’t- he didn’t realise- what was going on, what was happening? Who was attacking them and why? Mom and Dad had said they needed to go, they needed to run and he’d heard shouting, but it was so much louder now, much closer, and the real danger of it all sank in.

They were really under attack.

“I just-” He held the music box out, trying to explain, but another crash cut him off. It sounded like a door being broken down. Wakko clung to him so tightly it hurt, whimpering, and Yakko immediately held onto him, trying to calm him down.

He looked at Scratchy, but their godfather looked frightened too. For a moment, he looked very frightened indeed, as lost as Yakko, but then the fear was gone and he looked determined.

“Hurry,” he said, ushering them towards the door.

An unfamiliar voice spoke up: “It’s not safe that way.” 

Yakko turned around; the door to the servants quarters, hidden in his wall, hung open. A tiny servant stood in the hidden doorway, a mouse with narrowed eyes and a deep voice. 

“This way,” the mouse said, gesturing them over impatiently. “Through the servant’s quarters. It will take you out the back way.”

“Thank you,” Scratchy said. The sounds of fighting were almost deafening now, making Yakko’s fur stand on end and he fought to keep his claws in. 

As they ducked into the passage, Yakko tried to shove the music box into his pocket, so he could take his siblings’ hands, but as he reached for Dot, the music box fell. He spun back around, heart skipping a beat; he’d ran all the way back here for it, he wasn’t about to lose it now.

“My music box!”

He reached out, but those awful, thudding footsteps were right outside now. “Go!” the mouse snapped and slammed the door shut. 

Only seconds later, Yakko heard his bedroom door slam open, so harshly it banged against the wall. His blood froze when a harsh, unfamiliar voice demanded, “Where are they, mouse?”

They didn’t wait to hear anything further. Scratchy grabbed the three of them and ran. Yakko was at the back and he could still faintly hear yelling. Maybe it was awful of him, maybe it was selfish, but all he could think right then was, My music box…

“Yakko? Yakko!” Scratchy was shaking him and Yakko snapped out of it, shivering, teeth chattering.

Sometimes he really hated getting flashbacks. He’d already remembered Brain helping them escape, but never so detailed before; he’d forgotten just how terrified he’d been that night. He remembered running through the tunnel, clear as day. He remembered escaping through the gardens, the snow on the ground, the harsh wind whistling through the trees and then…

After that, it was still all one big blank. After that, the next thing he remembered was waking up on the train tracks, with no idea of who he was or how he'd gotten there.

Scratchy knelt down to his eye level. “Are you okay?” he asked, forehead creased. Wakko and Dot looked terrified, and Yakko could have cursed aloud for frightening them.

He looked at the wall again. “That’s the servants’ quarters, isn’t it?” he asked quietly. His throat ached and he cleared it, trying to speak up properly. For a moment, no one answered and Yakko repeated himself; “Isn’t it?”

Scratchy exhaled sharply. “Yes,” he said. He squeezed Yakko’s shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, Yakko walked towards the hidden door. Wakko and Dot followed; Dot held onto his tail.

It took a moment or two to find the door, but they couldn’t open it from this side. It was only meant to be open from the other side. The three of them huddled together, staring at the faint cracks in the paint that indicated where the door was. Even without it, they all knew where it was.

Yakko knew there was no forgetting that again.

Scratchy stood behind them, waiting to comfort or calm them down if need be. Yakko’s heart was pounding and he couldn’t seem to look away. He was standing right where he’d last dropped his music box. That was the door they’d escaped through. They’d run through the hidden tunnel and, not an hour later, Yakko had been lost.

It scared him. He didn’t want to admit it, but it did. One fall, one hit to the head, and a lifetime had been erased.

“I threw up on your bed,” Wakko suddenly said. Yakko’s laugh was shaky and he finally tore his gaze away from the door to look at his brother.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that? Is it that ugly, little bro?”

“It was when I first got the flu,” Wakko said with a sheepish smile. “We were playing and I threw up.”

Yakko’s laugh was more genuine. He thought he remembered something like that; he definitely remembered screaming for William and Angelina and trying to wipe Wakko’s mouth, cringing at the vomit while Wakko groaned.

Dot leaned against him, not so subtly turning him away from the hidden door. “You came up with songs to help us study,” she said. She pointed to the desk, piled high with books and a globe. “You had a song for all the countries in the world.”

As soon as she said it, Yakko began to hum the tune without even realising, lightly tapping his fingers against his legs. 

There’s Warnerstock, Arendelle, Wackyland, Corona, Ticktockia and Jollywood too…

His siblings smiled, humming in time with him.

“Ve should go,” Scratchy said quietly.

Yakko closed the door behind him, another shiver running down his spine that he tried to ignore. All his memories wouldn’t be good, he knew that, but he hadn’t expected one to jump out at him like that, let alone so vividly. He knew Scratchy and Nurse were going to want to Talk About It, and if he didn’t then they’d tell Pinky and Brain and then they’d definitely make him talk.

They’d probably tell Pinky and Brain anyway. They probably should. He probably should. He twisted his pendant around his hand and thought that he just might do that. It might help. After all, Brain had been there. He’d remember too.

He glanced back at the door to his room as they made their way down the hall (all of them carefully ignoring the double-doors to Angelina and William’s chambers. They weren’t ready, not yet). He wasn’t sure what to do with his room at all.

Then again, he had all the time in the world to decide now. And, as Dot and Wakko clutched his hands again, Yakko reminded himself that he wasn’t alone in deciding this time either.

One thing he knew for sure: he wasn’t going to be alone again.

Chapter Text

“Lying wide awake, through the night. Will you ever come running home to me? You might...You might...” - Anastasia: Broadway

Otto prided himself on his composure. In most cases, he could remain calm with a stiff upper lip.

Until the Warners were involved.

Those kids drove him crazy like no one else had ever managed. They literally caused him to rip his hair out. They were experts in driving him up the wall.

Losing Yakko brought on a new kind of ‘crazy.’

Now it wasn’t exasperation, or annoyance that he felt. Now it was absolute terror and a guilt he’d never felt so deeply before. 

He’d never forget the feeling of Yakko’s hand being pulled from his. He’d never get Yakko’s frightened scream from his mind.

“Don’t let go.”

But he had. His best efforts hadn’t been good enough; he’d tried to hold on, he’d tried to pull Yakko onto the train and he’d failed. He’d lost his grip and Yakko had fallen.

He’d lost his grip, and Yakko disappeared for five years. How did one go about moving on from that?

Five years of unanswered questions, five years of worrying and heartache, and then Yakko was miraculously restored to them. Brought home by a pair of servants-turned-conmen no less! It sounded like quite the tale to Otto; the type of story Yakko would have once asked William to tell.

Five years later, and Yakko was no longer a little child; he was fourteen now, as bizarre as that thought sometimes felt. 

Hearing exactly where Yakko had been did nothing to elevate Otto’s guilt. A rundown orphanage with abusive staff was no place for any child; it was no place for a prince, for Otto’s eldest godchild. Voice stilted and almost surly, Yakko slowly began to give him the details on the rare occasion that Wakko and Dot left the room: being locked in the attic, his powers flying out of control when the matrons tried to take his necklace; sleeping on a damp floor, because there weren’t enough beds in the dorms, and the elder children agreed to give up the beds to the younger ones.

What little happy stories Yakko told him did nothing to cheer Otto up. They were too few and far between. 

For five years, he’d hoped and prayed that Yakko was alive. For five years, he’d hoped that Yakko was somewhere safe and warm.

A cold, logical part of him had known it was unlikely. But he’d still hoped.

It was one hope in vain, it seemed.

The night after they’d found him, there was a knock on Otto’s door and Yakko poked his head into the room.

“Yakko.” Otto set his book aside and beckoned him in. “Vat is it?” he asked. “Are you vell?”

“I’m fine,” Yakko said. He glanced around, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Wakko and Dot?”

“They’re asleep.” Yakko finally looked at him. “I was wondering…”

“Ja?”

“You...What happened that night? ” Yakko asked, and Otto’s heart sank. “I remember running and I remember the tunnel, but most of it's a blur. I just- you said you let go? And I don’t blame you, I really don’t, I promise, Scratchy, I...I just don’t remember, so…”

“So you vant to know vat I meant,” Scratchy said quietly. Yakko nodded. He was clutching his arm, still rocking on his heels, looking like he might turn around and flee at a moment’s notice.

Otto patted the space next to him. Yakko hopped onto the bed, keeping some distance between them, watching Scratchy with disconcerting silence. 

Otto hated that orphanage and its staff; he hated them for trying to stamp out Yakko’s curiosity. The constant questions had driven him crazy, but he’d also been happy to answer; he’d been as interested as Angelina and William in Yakko’s curiosity, how he always seemed to have a question; how Yakko often seemed to find an answer to his own questions before the adults could.

“Ve tried to escape on ze train,” Otto told him. Yakko was still watching him carefully. “I vas carrying Dot; you threw Wakko on board. But ze train vas getting faster and faster…” He had to pause, trying to banish Dot’s panicked screaming from his mind.

“Help him!”

“I grabbed your hand,” Otto said.

“I fell, didn’t I?” Yakko asked. “I had to have hit my head somehow.”

Otto nodded, his throat aching. 

“Yakko, take my hand!”

“Don’t let go!”

“Ve vere going too fast,” Otto said. He had to look away as he said it. “I couldn’t pull you on. You tripped, I lost my grip and…”

“And?”

“You fell,” Otto said, hating himself as he said it, hating it happened at all. “You fell from ze platform onto ze tracks. Ve tried to jump back off, but ze passengers held us back.” He closed his eyes, Yakko’s scream echoing in his ears; he could still see Wakko desperately struggling against the stranger holding him, trying in vain to reach his brother.

“Oh…” Yakko was fiddling with his necklace again. He frowned, ears drooping. “I think I remember some of it.”

“Ja?” Truth be told, the idea filled him with dread.

“I remembered people screaming,” Yakko told him. “When Pi- when we were running from Plotz, I thought I remembered someone telling me to take their hand.”

“I did,” Otto said. “And I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

“For not holding on.” Feeling oddly shy, Otto held his arms out. For a moment, Yakko looked baffled, a little wary, but he scooted closer and let Otto pull him against his side. He settled his arm around Yakko’s skinny shoulders and held the boy close.

“Ve missed you very much,” Otto promised him. “Ve thought of you every day.”

Yakko’s forehead creased, his ears drooping further. “I’m sorry I forgot.”

“Now zat is most certainly not your fault.”

Yakko was quiet for a moment, and then he spoke up, sounding the most certain he had so far; “It wasn’t yours either.”

If only Otto could believe that.

Truth be told, finding Angelina’s letters just made him feel worse. As the days and weeks passed, as Yakko was crowned and they began to restore Warnerstock to its former glory, Otto couldn’t let go of the old guilt.

He saw Wakko and Dot panic when they couldn’t immediately find Yakko. He saw Yakko wake up screaming as the worst of the flashbacks finally hit him. He saw the three of them cling together, all of them silently (and sometimes not so silently) afraid that they’d be separated again.

“Otto, this can’t go on,” Heloise said firmly.

“Vat can’t?” Otto asked. He sat up straighter, his voice sharper when he asked, “Is it the kidses?”

“No, it’s you. You’re not doing well.”

Otto sighed, turning back to his notes, looking into ways to help alleviate anxiety in children, let alone toon children. “I am fine, my friend.”

Heloise snatched the heavy book from him, her blue eyes narrowed. “You’re a trained psychiatrist and I’m a nurse. We both know you’re not.” Her expression softened. “My friend, no one blames you.”

Otto smiled sadly. “Zat is vhere you are wrong, Heloise. I blame me.”

She sat next to him. “You shouldn’t. And you should talk to someone.”

“Heloise-”

“I’m booking you an appointment,” she said firmly. A little more quietly, she said, “I think we could all do with some help.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Otto said in shock. “Heloise, you were in Burbank. ”

“I was in Burbank when Warnerstock fell, yes- and I was right there in Burbank when Salazar attacked. I was right there when he tried to kill them and I couldn’t help.”

“You couldn’t do anything once Salazar summoned all zat fire.” He shuddered at the thought. “Not to mention zat chasm.”

“And you couldn’t do anything once that train picked up speed,” she said, holding his gaze. He was the first to look away.

“I hate when you’re right,” he said.

She smiled at that. “I’m always right.” She opened the book and began to browse through the pages. “Now, if we’re to help them we’d best continue to research; and we need to be at our best too, Otto.” Her voice took on that warning edge again when she added, “And that includes getting help when we need it.”

He knew she was right. That didn’t necessarily make it any easier. But if Otto was going to look after those kids, if he was going to help rule a kingdom, he had to be in tip-top shape himself. 

No more brooding and dwelling. It was time for action.

As much as he may still feel guilty (and he rather suspected the guilt would never truly leave him) he couldn’t let it distract him. 

He had three little Warners to care for.

At the end of the day, he went to Nurse’s office.

“Make the appointment, please,” he said. “You are right. I need help.”

And, he could finally acknowledge, there was no shame in admitting it.

Chapter Text

“I'm dancing on my own, I make the moves up as I go.” - Taylor Swift

Lucy loved dancing. She liked going out with her friends to parties and socialising; so long as there was music playing, Lucy was bound to join in, be it at a banquet, a little party, a ball, even just a busker in the streets.

Lucy was also a rather shy fourteen-year-old toon. Partying with her friends? Sure, no problem. Talking to a boy? She felt more out of her depth there. It often felt like her mind had been wiped clean; she’d forget what she wanted to say and run back to her friends as soon as possible.

It was a rather uneventful evening, truth be told. Her grandparents were in town, so her family went out to one of their favourite restaurants; it had a band on a little stage and a dancefloor already full of people; couples, groups, even a few people dancing alone. Lucy’s foot tapped in time to the music and she was about to ask her twin sister, Darcy, if she’d join her, when she spotted a toon-boy across the room.

If she had to guess she’d say he was her age, or thereabouts. She wasn’t sure what toon he was exactly; Lucy and her family were all various types of dogs, but this boy looked like an odd combination of dog, cat and maybe rabbit (if only because of those long ears). He was with the oddest group; two white mice and an absolutely beautiful woman, and he was watching the dancers with as much interest as Lucy, slightly swaying in his seat in time with the music.

Darcy giggled at her and Lucy quickly looked away.

“Wanna go dance?” Lucy asked her. Her sister just smirked at her.

“Why don’t you ask him? ” she said, pointing at the boy.

“No,” Lucy said, shaking her head. She glanced back at the boy, tapping the edge of the table. She could feel her cheeks heat up and knew she must be bright red if Darcy’s delighted grin was anything to go by.

“Alright,” Darcy said. She stood up. “Then why don’t I ask him?”

“Don’t you dare!” Lucy cried, jumping up.

“Don’t tease your sister,” their mother said tiredly, but Darcy continued to smirk at Lucy, hands on her hips. She took a step back, in the direction of the boy’s table.

“I dunno, he’s cute,” Darcy said. “And Lucy hasn’t even spoken to him, so…”

Lucy darted past her, determinedly ignoring her sister’s laughter as she hurried across the room. The closer she got, the more her nerve deserted her. This was stupid. This was so stupid. He was going to laugh at her; he was going to ignore her, or say no. Maybe Darcy should go for it, she was much better at this sort of thing…

She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her when the boy and his companions looked at her.

“Er- hi…” Lucy waved and momentarily closed her eyes, cringing at her own actions. “Hi. Do you, um...Wanna…” She gestured to the dancefloor, blushing more than ever. “Want to dance with me?” she asked, her voice going high-pitched.

She braced herself for laughter, but the boy immediately jumped up. “Sure!” he said happily, black eyes shining.

Lucy felt light-headed from sheer relief. It hadn’t blown up in her face; she’d successfully talked to a boy! She hadn’t run off, she hadn’t made a fool of herself. As they walked to the dancefloor, she reassured herself that she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself now; this, at least, she knew how to do. This, she was good at.

(And, okay, dancing with a cute boy made her feel giddy. Sue her.)

As she whirled, she caught Darcy’s eyes and grinned, minutely jerking her head at the boy. Look! she mouthed.

Laughing, her sister punched her fist in the air. Even from across the room, even above the music, Lucy could hear her laughing in triumph. Their father immediately pulled Darcy’s hand back down.

“I’m Lucy,” she told the boy.

“Elo,” the boy said.

Two days later, Darcy burst into the drawing room, newspaper in hand.

“LUCY, HOLY SHIT!”

“Language!” their mother scolded, while their grandfather sputtered indignantly. A maid nearly dropped the tea-tray in surprise.

Darcy ignored them all. “Look at this!” she barked, holding the newspaper out. On the front page was a picture of-

“That’s Elo,” Lucy said, frowning. 

“That’s Yakko Warner is what that is!” Darcy said, shaking the paper. 

“W-what?” Lucy asked weakly. Her sister shoved the paper at her; her parents and grandparents crowded around, all trying to read the article over her shoulder.

Right there, in black and white, were the words MISSING PRINCE FOUND!

Lucy knew the rumours of the missing prince; it was hard not to hear them, especially when you lived in the same city as Duke Scratchansniff. But she’d never seen a picture of Yakko before, or any of the Warners truth be told.

But on the front page, for all the world to see, was the boy from the restaurant. Elo. Prince Yakko Warner.

“He- he didn’t say-”

“Apparently he didn’t remember,” Darcy said. She jabbed the page and, sure enough, a rather long paragraph explained that the Prince had suffered from amnesia.

“Good gracious,” their grandmother gasped. Always dramatic, she clutched her pearls, eyes nearly popping from her head, her usually floppy ears standing up straight.

“You danced with a prince!” Darcy said, gesturing wildly as she spoke. “A damn prince! ”

Lucy’s head was spinning. She’d danced with a prince. She’d danced with a prince and hadn’t even known it. He hadn’t even known it.

Lucy closed her eyes and set the paper down. She took a deep breath.

And she screamed.

“HOLY SHIT!”

Chapter Text

“Don't close your eyes 'cause your future's ready to shine.” - Owl City

As it turned out, Ralph was actually kind of sweet once you got talking to him. Yakko still thought the guy was dumber than advertised (which was saying something!) but, still, he was sweet. Bumbling and oblivious, but sweet.

And he’d apologised for the train incident. At least there was that.

As they journeyed back to Warnerstock, Ralph shyly began to tell them of his family. His wife and son. He told them about adopting Ralph Jr when he was only a few weeks old. He couldn’t sing his wife’s praises enough; to hear him tell it she was the prettiest, kindest woman in Acme Falls, and the best cook.

With all that in mind, Yakko expected to be met with an elegant woman likely to be carrying a bunch of baked goods.

And yet the real deal...somehow wasn’t much of a surprise either. At least not in hindsight.

Plenty of guards (and well-meaning citizens) were trying to keep the crowd back from the Warners and their entourage. Yakko wasn’t sure where to start. They’d just arrived; where were they supposed to go, who were they supposed to speak with- where to start?

And then a deep voice cried, “RALPHY!” and a woman came barrelling from the crowd.

Ralph called out, “HONEY-BUNNY!” and ran to her, arms outstretched. He grabbed the woman in his arms and spun her around. The woman was followed by a small brown-haired boy with large glasses, who smiled up at Ralph like he was a fairy-tale prince come to life.

Oh, Yakko thought. That must be his family.

Ralph set the woman down (after a kiss so passionate that Scratchy looked away uncomfortably) and Yakko choked on his own breath- the woman looked exactly like Ralph. She was the exact same height and size; she even had a five o’clock shadow. The only real difference between her and Ralph was her fluffy blonde hair. Ralph hugged the little boy tightly and ruffled his hair, while the woman waved at their group with a big grin.

“Oh...Wow…” Dot said weakly. 

“Everyone,” Ralph said proudly, his arm around the woman’s waist, and his free hand on the boy's shoulder. “This is my wife, and this is our son, Ralph Jr.”

Ralph Jr rolled his eyes at his parents’ overly-affectionate embrace. “Hi,” he said. He looked to the Warners and bowed. “I mean- I’m Ralph Jr, Your Graces. It’s an honour to meet you; welcome home.”

“Your wife is...Charming,” Scratchy said limply. He scratched his bald head, looking bewildered.

“Aw, thanks,” Ralph said, beaming. His wife giggled, kissing him on the cheek.

“Oh, you,” she said fondly.

It was so sweet it was almost sickening.

Brain looked dreadfully close to laughing; his lips twitched in amusement and he looked away. “Yes,” he said. “Charming.”

“...She looks like Ralph,” Wakko whispered to Yakko and Dot. “ Exactly like Ralph.”

“Yeah, baby bro, we can see that,” Yakko said. 

They were quiet before Wakko said, “Do you think they’re rel-”

“Don’t finish that thought, Wakko,” Yakko sighed. “For my own sanity.”

“You don’t have any.”

“For my theoretical sanity.”

Dot was still eyeing the woman dubiously. Finally, she shrugged. “I like her dress,” she said.

Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly), Pinky was a perfect gentleman, jumping up on Scratchy to kiss Mrs Ralph’s hand. “Nice to meet you!” he said, cheerful as ever.

Ralph Jr. edged closer. His smile was shy.

“It really is nice to meet you,” he said.

Yakko smiled, ignoring Ralph and his wife’s next dramatic embrace. “You too,” he said.

Ralph Jr. looked at his parents and rolled his eyes, sighing heavily.

“Before you ask,” he drawled. “Yes. They’re always like this.”

Chapter Text

“Someone holds her safe and warm, someone rescues her from the storm. Simple things, but one thing’s clear: it's fate that brought us here.” - Anastasia: Broadway

It was done. It had finally happened: Salazar was dead.

Frankly, Brain couldn’t quite believe it. He’d been unconscious for Salazar’s death; he’d missed it. It was easy, despite his logical nature, to believe Salazar might burst back out of that fiery pit and come looking for vengeance. 

But no, Salazar was dead and gone. Warnerstock was free again, and Brain didn’t doubt there’d be chaos once the news reached their home country. No doubt, the whole world would know by morning.

For now, Brain concerned himself with the rather large bump on his head. A concussion; most inconvenient, but he knew it could be worse. It could have been much worse.

Pinky and Yakko had thought he was dead.

The idea made his chest tighten. He didn’t want to say so out loud, but he despised the thought of the two of them crying; he hated to think of them being so frightened and upset.

And even so, some good had come from it.

“You didn’t take the money,” Yakko had said, barely above a whisper. And Pinky, as if it was the easiest thing in the world had said, “Because we love you!” Then again, maybe to Pinky it was easy. Emotions had...never been Brain’s forte. Logic and calculations, that was what he excelled at.

But with Yakko staring at them, Brain had known he had to answer. Swallowing his embarrassment, his discomfort, he had managed to speak; “Well, we- yes. There’s that.”

Perhaps not his most eloquent moment, but it had been good enough for Yakko. The young prince had held them both tightly, curling over them as if to shield them from the world, when Brain was quite sure it should be the other way around.

And now, at last, they had retired to Heloise’s home. No one wanted to go back to Scratchansniff’s estate, not yet. It was mere hours since Salazar’s defeat, and Brain was under strict orders to be careful; to speak up if he felt unwell and to not sleep if he felt at all dizzy.

He didn’t feel dizzy, but he did feel drowsy. Even so, he didn’t feel like he could sleep. He’d had adventurous nights, but this surely took the cake. They’d fought a tyrant and won. Three children had won. 

Even Pinky seemed to understand just how unbelievable this all was; he was quiet and fidgety, and kept glancing at their bedroom door.

Brain knew what he was thinking.

“If you’re so worried, I’m sure we can go find him,” Brain said. Pinky needed no further encouragement; he jumped off the massive bed and ran for the door. Just as he reached it, there was a quiet knock.

“Come in,” Brain called, expecting Heloise to be checking on them again, or perhaps Scratchansniff. Instead, the door opened and Yakko walked in.

Pinky smiled in relief at the sight of him. Yakko was out of those fancy party clothes and in a pair of green pyjama bottoms, bouncing anxiously on the spot.

“Are you two okay?” he asked.

“Quite well,” Brain promised. Pinky scampered up Yakko and climbed onto his shoulder. He couldn’t stop smiling. He felt like bouncing as well, but for happy reasons. Salazar was gone. They could all go home. 

Yakko was here.

Brain gestured to the bed; Yakko sat on the edge, swinging his legs.

“Your siblings,” Brain said. “Are they well?”

“Out like lights,” Yakko said. “They’re worn out.”

“And you?”

“Tired,” Yakko admitted. “But we need to talk.”

“As much as you want, zoit,” Pinky said. He jumped from Yakko’s shoulder onto his leg. Brain got up and sat next to them, looking as serious and imposing as always, even with the bandages on his head.

“We’re sorry,” Pinky said, looking up at Yakko. “For lying. It was wrong.”

“It was,” Yakko said, and he sounded like a prince. Slowly, he smiled. “But you didn’t take the money.”

“No, we did not,” Brain said. “As we said, we- hm. Well…” Pinky smiled in encouragement, while Yakko looked at Brain with a knowing smile. Finally, Brain coughed and said, “As Pinky said, we...We love you. You- you are dear to us both.”

“You too,” Yakko said. That big, beaming smile was back, his black eyes glittering. Pinky was smiling so widely it hurt his cheeks.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Pinky told him. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Heloise and the Duke will take good care of you,” Brain said.

Yakko frowned. “So will you.”

Brain sighed. “Yakko, you’re the rightful king. You won’t be allowed to run around with former servants-”

“Well if I’m king then what I say goes,” Yakko said firmly. He jabbed Brain on the chest. “And I say you’re my friends, and I’m staying with you guys. Or you’re staying with me. Whatever. It’s a royal command, got it? You have to listen.”

Pinky saluted. “Aye-aye, captain!”

“I believe the correct phrase is, Yes, Your Majesty, ” Brain said, rolling his eyes, but even he couldn’t quite hide his little smile. He turned back to Yakko and bowed. “As the king commands.”

“I do,” Yakko said, nose in the air. His tail wagged. “So you have to do what I say.”

Brain shook his head, but didn’t disagree any further.

“I want to stay,” Pinky said. If they didn’t have to go, he didn’t see why they should. It seemed simple: Yakko wanted them to stay. Pinky wanted to stay. So he would.

“Good,” Yakko said. “Because I mean it, I want you to stay.”

Brain nodded. Pinky said, “We mean it too.”

“You did phenomenally tonight,” Brain said quietly. 

“And you were nuts,” Yakko said. He lifted them both up, holding them to eye-level. “And you were really brave, grabbing the pendant like that.”

“You were brave too,” Pinky said. He thought he was going to dream of glowing swords for weeks. It had shone like the sun, a stark contrast to the harsh red of Salazar’s little monsters.

“Your parents would be proud,” Brain said. Cautiously, he reached out to pat Yakko’s forehead. Everything about Yakko seemed to soften at the mention of the King and Queen.

“You think so?” he asked.

“Certainly.”

Feeling a little shy, Pinky spoke up; “I’m proud.”

Brain let himself smile. “As am I.”

If the guards in the hallway were surprised to see Yakko walk back to his room with Brain and Pinky on his shoulders, they were wise enough to keep silent. Pinky leaned against Yakko’s cheek, humming the tune Dot had hummed earlier, the one Yakko so often hummed to himself. Brain was silent, hands folded in his lap; he looked like he was doing more thinking, but that didn’t surprise Pinky; Brain was always thinking.

Yakko slipped silently back into the room he was sharing with his siblings. Wakko was curled up small, Dot was snoring. Yakko tip-toed back to the bed and climbed on, pulling the covers up to his chin.

Pinky lay down on the pillow, right by Yakko’s ear. Brain lay next to him, a little stiffly at first, but slowly relaxing.

“Good night,” Yakko whispered, so as not to wake his little siblings.

“Good night,” Brain said. He gave a little sigh and was quiet.

Pinky curled in closer, reaching out so his hand brushed against Yakko’s fur. “Narf! G’night,” he said. He closed his eyes and smiled. “Love you.”

Pinky was happy where he was. He thought of the fairytales Yakko read, the same stories Pinky read when he was just a baby-mouse as well; he felt like he was living in one. Maybe this was their happily-ever-after. 

He knew Brain would probably-definitely call him dumb, but Pinky was sure this was where they were meant to be.

It all seemed pretty simple to him.

Chapter Text

“Dancing bears, painted wings- things I almost remember. And a song someone sings, once upon a December.” - Anastasia

There had always been a lot of dancing in their family. Yakko had blurry memories of his parents dancing at balls and banquets; they’d always lead the first and last dances of the evening, and always seemed excited to dance together, no matter how often they did. The excitement never seemed to wear off for them.

He could remember people talking about how lovely and romantic William and Angelina were. That they were the perfect pair. Yakko had agreed; as far as his child-self had been aware, his parents were perfect. Even now, it was hard to let go of that idea. He knew they were people, with flaws like everyone else, but in his memories they were the perfect fairytale King and Queen, the best parents he could have asked for.

As more memories returned, as they prepared for his coronation, Yakko’s dreams and memories seemed to get mixed up.

He was fourteen, not nine anymore, dancing across the ruined ballroom, keeping an eye on his feet and mouthing the instructions to himself, determined not to fall or trip. This had once been as easy as breathing, and Yakko wanted to get this right. His coronation was in two weeks.

The people dancing around him all shimmered and glittered; they were translucent and seemed to fade even further if Yakko looked at them. 

More and more dancers poured out of the paintings, whirling around him. Yakko spun around and came face to face with Angelina. Unlike the others she was solid, with no glow around her. She looked perfectly real, wearing her favourite purple gown.

She held both her hands out to him. “Little one, the Queen would like to dance,” she said, the way she always used to. Yakko took her hands and Angelina took the lead.

When he was little, he used to stand on her feet while she whirled them around. When he got older he could keep up with her on his own. He remembered how she used to curtsy to him, as if he was an adult, and Yakko would always bow in return, as extravagantly as he could manage.

He wondered if he’d be able to keep up with her now, if this wasn’t a dream.

The other dancers all backed away, standing along the walls. Yakko barely noticed them, all his attention taken by his mother. Her hands were warm and Yakko swore he could smell her perfume. She felt so real.

They slowed to a stop, hands still linked. Angelina kissed his forehead, the way she’d done every night before bed, every day when the mood took her; she used to scoop Yakko up and kiss his forehead, smiling at him.

“I love you,” she told him, squeezing his hands.

Yakko woke up to Wakko and Dot jumping onto the bed, shaking him awake.

“Scratchy’s complaining that we’re late,” Dot said, rolling her eyes. She looked at him and frowned, tilting her head slightly. “Hey, you okay?”

Yakko smiled, clutching his pendant. “I’m good, sis,” he said. “Now get off me, will ya? You’re both heavy.”

In response, they lounged on top of him, purposefully putting their weight down.

“Oh no,” Wakko drawled. “I can’t get up.”

Well, truth be told, Yakko didn’t much care if they were late anyway.

Dancing lessons were going well. Their instructor seemed pleasantly surprised. Yakko rolled his eyes and pulled faces when the woman’s back was turned. He remembered thank you very much. He just didn’t feel totally confident. He was out of practice.

Dot curtised beautifully, her pendant gleaming when the light hit it.

“Wanna go again?” she asked, and Yakko took her hand, both of them ignoring their instructor and dancing the way they wanted to. Yakko held out a hand to Wakko and he ran over; the three of them danced in a circle, spinning until they were dizzy.

The coronation was different. It wasn’t just silly and fun; everyone was watching eagerly, watching them the way they used to watch Angelina and William.

Wakko was dancing with Nurse (and looked absolutely delighted, not that Yakko could blame him), while Yakko danced with Dot. His sister had changed from her blue-and-gold gown into a glittering yellow one with long white gloves. Yakko had removed the heavy crown (now safely packed away by Scratchy), and the Warner brothers had changed into matching outfits, Wakko still wearing his favourite cap.

They were outside, dancing in the town square. The lanterns were all lit, fireworks exploded overhead; blue and gold banners were strung up, the Warner crest was on every available surface. Some people watched from their windows, but everyone else was joining in. Whether they were dancing or by the banquet tables, it seemed like the entire populace of Acme Falls was here. 

Ralph was dancing with his wife; the band was playing a waltz, but they weren’t dancing a waltz. Honestly, Yakko wasn’t sure what dance they were doing, but they looked like they were having fun.

Yakko spun Dot around and kissed her cheek when she giggled. She danced prettily (Yakko was quite sure she did everything prettily), smiling and graceful.

“Having fun?” Yakko asked her. Dot nodded, her eyes shining, her skirts whirling as she spun.

“I missed dancing with you,” she said a little shyly. Yakko held her close and Dot immediately wrapped herself around him like a koala. Laughing, Yakko spun around rapidly, laughing harder when Dot let out a delighted shriek.

Wakko had a look of deadly concentration on his face, tongue poking out more than ever. This dance was slower; their hands were pressed together, they more so stepped in a circle rather than spinning or dancing- but the beat slowly picked up and as it did Wakko looked much happier. Yakko could relate; slow dancing got a bit boring after a while.

“So, you got to dance with Nurse?” Yakko asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Wakko’s smile was downright sappy, little hearts floating above his head.

“Best day ever,” he said dreamily.

“I’ll bet,” Yakko said. “You’re living the dream, little bro- you got the dance with the prettiest woman here.”

“Don’t let Dot hear you say that.” Wakko glanced at the band. “Remember Mum and Dad’s song?”

“Their favourite, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What about it?”

Wakko’s tongue poked out again, but he smiled up at Yakko. “Think they’ll play it if we ask?”

The dance stopped and Yakko led Wakko over to the band, hands linked. Dot hurried to join them. “I know they will,” Yakko said. He winked at them. “After all, they’ve got to do what we say, right?”

Angelina and William’s favourite song had been fast-paced, upbeat, with lyrics all about happiness and love. It was a song that many said suited them, suited their marriage. It was one of the first songs they’d played at their wedding.

And now their children danced to it again, the three of them together for the first time in five years. Some of the older courtiers wiped their eyes, memories of the deceased King and Queen in their minds. Scratchy watched fondly, chuckling as Nurse pulled him into a dance. Brain remained seated, but Pinky danced wildly, swinging his arms around, bouncing up and down, more so screaming the lyrics rather than singing.

Yakko, Wakko and Dot were in the centre of the square, spinning until they were dizzy, laughing and singing along. Their arms were linked and they kicked their legs in time to the tune, skipping and jumping, spinning and whirling around each other, changing their places in their little circle.

This time, Yakko didn’t keep looking down at his feet. He kept his head high, grinning at his siblings; it was muscle memory, a dance he’d watched and taken part in too many times to count. 

This time, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Towards the end of the night, the three of them were still linked, swaying gently back and forth, quietly singing Angelina’s lullaby.

“I’m tired,” Dot said, though she made no move to sit down.

“Me too,” Yakko said, and stayed where he was. Wakko hummed in agreement, yawning, and stayed with them.

“We should probably take a break,” Yakko said. None of them moved. They stayed together, singing their lullaby, as the stars shone overhead.

Chapter Text

“Home, love, family; I will never be complete until I find you.” - Anastasia 

Rita watched from Runt’s back as the Warners climbed down off the train. She’d seen the newspapers, the photos and excited headlines, but seeing them in person was entirely different.

She grinned, heart soaring.

Her hunch had been right. That little toon kid, who had looked so lost when they met, was indeed the missing prince. She had wondered, barely daring to hope, and she’d been right.

They joined the crowd in cheering; Runt’s tail was wagging.

“It’s really them!” Runt said. 

“Yeah.” Rita lounged against him, purring. “Yeah, Runt, it’s them.”

It was still quite early in the morning when Yakko dragged them all outside in search of the two toons who had directed him to Pinky and Brain. For once, the mice weren’t on his shoulders; they were scampering around like the rest of them, looking for Rita and Runt. Pinky would call them friends. Brain would call them acquaintances. 

The pair was homeless. Brain explained that they’d only stayed in the palace with him and Pinky when they were truly desperate- it had made them nervous, uncomfortable, and they feared being arrested if they were caught. 

Brain knew they had a favourite alleyway, “their” alleyway as they called it, but damn if he knew which one. He just knew it was somewhere near the train station.

And so their odd group went in search of Rita and Runt, prepared to make an offer. An offer that Brain knew they would only accept a “yes” to.

The offer? To join them. To live in the palace; to have a home.

Scratchy and Heloise found them.

“Rita and Runt?” Heloise asked. She adjusted her scarf, smiling prettily. Scratchy removed his hat and inclined his head, a show of respect.

“That’s us,” Rita said. She was crouched on the ground, a fishbone held in her paw. She nibbled at it absentmindedly. Runt tilted his head, watching them curiously.

“Otto von Scratchansniff, at your service,” Scratchy said. He smiled. “Ve vish to speak vith you.”

“Uh huh?” Cautiously, they came closer.

Heloise leaned down to their eye level, giving Runt a scratch behind the ear. “We know you told Yakko to see Pinky and Brain,” she said. “Why?”

“He looked like Yakko,” Runt said. He frowned at his own words and shook his head. “Well, duh, he looked like Yakko, he is. But...It was really late and cold, and he looked lost.”

“And we heard him saying he wanted to get to Burbank,” Rita finished. “Like Runt said, he looked like a Warner; he was the right age, all by himself. It just made sense. ”

“I hoped he was,” Runt admitted. 

“No con?” Scratchy asked.

Rita rolled her eyes. “We don’t go in for that stuff,” she said. 

Scratchy smiled; it was the answer he had expected, after speaking with Brain.

“Vell zen,” he said. “Ve have an offer.”

“What kind?” Runt asked. Rita watched them with sharp, curious eyes.

“We’d like to offer you a home with us,” Heloise said with a smile, and Runt’s mouth dropped open. “We know you have nowhere to go; we’d like you to come with us.”

“Really?” Rita asked, barely above a whisper. Runt’s tail was wagging, a little slowly, a little cautiously; afraid to get his hopes up, no doubt.

“Ja,” Scratchy said. “Really.”

Runt’s tail began to wag in earnest. Slowly, Rita grinned, eyes bright with hope.

“Yes,” they said, and followed Scratchy and Heloise out of the alley.

“ There you are!” came Yakko’s eager voice. The Warners came bursting out of the crowd, jumping over people’s heads and zooming between their legs, ignoring the dismayed calls of their guards. Brain was on Dot’s shoulder, clinging for dear life as she sprinted, and Pinky was on Wakko’s head looking quite content to be there.

Yakko skidded to a stop, sending snow flying and ignoring it when Scratchy started to cold him. “Hi!” he said brightly. “Are you coming?”

Runt nudged his nose against Yakko’s hand as he’d done only a few weeks ago. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said and Yakko rolled his eyes.

“Ugh, don’t call me that,” Yakko said with a huff. “It’s Yakko. ”

Dot pet Rita on the head, who purred and pressed up against her hand. Wakko’s tail wagged in tandem with Runt’s.

“Good to see you both,” Brain said, nodding at them.

“Narf! Hi!” Pinky waved eagerly with both hands, as if they couldn’t see him right in front of them.

“Hello again,” Rita said. She climbed onto Runt’s back and smiled at them all. Her gaze lingered on the Warners. “Good to see you.”

Dot curtsied cutely as usual. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “Just call me Dot, you don’t need to worry about titles.” Her eyes narrowed. “But call me Dottie and you die.” Rita and Runt nodded quickly in agreement. 

So, these were the toons who had helped set everything in motion. She watched them curiously, standing close to her brothers. She’d have to talk to them properly; they all would. She wanted to know if they’d stepped in as part of the con, for selfish reasons, or if they’d just wanted to help a lost kid. If, maybe, they’d seen something that Pinky and Brain had missed.

She wanted to get to know them.

She’d get her answers and, once they were all comfortable, she was sure they’d all have fun together. Two more members of their odd family.

“Alright, let’s move it!” Yakko said. He clapped his hands and spun on his heels, leading the way back to the palace. “You guys are gonna have to pick your rooms,” he said over his shoulder.

“One with a big fireplace!” Runt said eagerly. “A really warm one.”

Nurse rubbed his head. “I think that can be arranged.”

Chapter Text

“In the dark of the night evil will brew.” - Anastasia

Restoring a kingdom was hard, non-stop work, and they’d only begun to scratch the surface. 

After weeks of non-stop work, businesses were gaining more income, slowly but surely. The air of oppression and hopelessness was starting to disappear. The palace had been thoroughly scrubbed down; the bullet holes were filled in, the scorch marks painted over. Food was brought to the citizens far and wide; Brain and his keen eye looked over every budget proposal and came up with many of his own.

They were getting to work on restoring the palace gardens, and Scratchy had mentioned setting up a memorial for those who lost their lives to Salazar, when a message arrived.

The Captain burst into the throne room, looking shaken.

“You gotta see this, man,” he said.

‘This’ was out in the palace Salazar once called home; one of the largest that the Warners owned, and one they were now deeply reluctant to go near ever again.

Only now they had no choice.

Salazar’s banners and coat-of-arms had been removed weeks ago. The kids had taken great delight in smashing Salazar’s statues with their mallets. The place was already looking more cheerful, and a few servants gave the Warner siblings surprised glances; Dot knew they probably expected a huge entourage and a dramatic entrance, for her and her brothers to be coated in gems and gold. But they’d been cleaning and rearranging with everyone else, and so Yakko was in his favourite slacks, Dot had put on a much simpler pink dress and Wakko had pulled on a comfortable blue shirt with too-long sleeves.

They didn’t look like royalty right now, but they marched in with their heads held high, refusing to be cowed. Salazar had lived here, yes, but this was still their palace. 

Dot knew these guys had lived under the same roof as Salazar for five years. They’d seen dark magic at work almost every day. They’d dealt with Salazar’s rage, his spells and those awful little monsters. But now? Now they looked nervous. Scared. For them to be frightened of anything...It didn’t bode well.

“So? What’s going on?” Yakko demanded, hands on his hips.

An elderly woman crept forward. “I found it, Yer Grace,” she said, wringing her hands. Her voice was heavy, lisping a little, almost like Ralph’s “Was cleaning Ki- Salazar’s solar, like we was told an’ all. But…”

“But?” Yakko prompted.

“I found it,” the old woman repeated. She brushed back a stray strand of her grey hair, tucking it behind her ear. She shivered. “We always wondered where ‘is lair was; where he did that magic. We never saw no spell books.”

“You found a lair? ” Scratchy demanded.

She nodded. “Behind the bookcase,” she said.

Wakko and Dot edged in closer to their brother; he wrapped an arm around each of them, staring the old woman down. She looked away first; despite being much bigger and older, she seemed frightened of them too.

In a way, Dot couldn’t blame her.

“You’d better show us,” Yakko said. He turned to their guards and, to Dot’s surprise he said, “Call Plotz. Tell him to bring that ruby ring.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The nearest guard bowed and hurried back outside.

The old woman gave them a shaky curtsy and led the way upstairs.

The old woman (“Agnes,” she said. “Call me Agnes.”) led them to Salazar’s solar. The bookshelf on the opposite wall was swung away from the wall, like a door; behind it, half-open, was another door carved from steel. Scratchy couldn’t see any door handles or key holes. 

He turned to Agnes. “How did you open it?” he asked.

“That’s the odd thing, m’lord,” she said, pushing the steel door open properly. “I didn’t.” She looked at them all, fear shining in her eyes. “When I was cleaning the room, the bookshelf- it moved on its own. Not much, just enough for me to spot it. The door behind it was wide open.”

Scratchy’s blood ran cold.

Something wants us down there, he thought. Every instinct screamed at him to take the Warners and hurry home, but his foolhardy little godchildren pushed past him and hurried down the narrow, short staircase.

“Come on, Scratchy!” Yakko called. 

The guards looked as unhappy as Scratchy felt. The Captain unsheathed his sword and held it tightly as they followed the little royals.

The lair was big. Bigger than Yakko would have thought. There were no windows; the walls and floor were made of the same dark stones. Bookshelves lined the walls, stuffed with heavy spell books and potions, jars of rather nasty looking plants and substances; there was a wooden table with more spell books, parchment and a small knife. He couldn’t remember all the secret rooms and passageways, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that Salazar had made this room.

At the very least, Salazar had to be responsible for the creepy well in the middle of the room. Unlit candles surrounded it and what looked like charms of some sort to Yakko. At the very least, they matched some of the symbols he could see on the books.

“Spooky,” he commented, trying to keep his voice light and careless, but it was hard work. The whole place felt wrong. The air was too heavy, too cold. 

He felt like they were being watched.

Agnes was shivering. At Yakko’s nod, one of the guards escorted her back upstairs.

The Captain swore under his breath.

“Watch it,” Dot said, with no real heat. She looked around and shuddered, her fur standing on end. Wakko was growling, fangs bared against invisible enemies.

“Ve should go,” Scratchy said. That was when they heard it: a terribly familiar, high-pitched giggle. The type of laugh that grated on your ears and set you on edge.

The laugh that echoed in all their nightmares.

Feeling sick, Yakko peered into the well.

It wasn’t empty.

A single, tiny red monster crouched inside, only about the size of Pinky. It grinned up at him with razor-sharp teeth, its claws tapping against the stone. Laughing, it rose into the air. The guards shouted, Scratchy tried to shove them behind him, though it did little good.

Dot screamed and ran at it with a mallet; she swung, but the tiny monster just disappeared and reformed, spinning around Yakko’s head so quickly it was just a blurry beam of light.

“Little king,” it laughed; its voice was thin and reedy. It flew up to the ceiling and hovered there. It turned into a ruby-red butterfly and Wakko jerked back, clinging to Yakko’s arm.

“Go away!” Wakko ordered. 

The butterfly turned back into a monster. Yakko wanted to scream when it spoke in a perfect mimicry of Angelina. “Little one,” it cooed in his mother's voice, beckoning with one clawed finger. 

“Don’t you dare, ” Yakko growled, trembling with anger. “Don’t you dare use her voice.”

It giggled again, its voice echoing slightly. It flew down to the table, laughing and easily avoiding their guards attacks. It hovered over a thick red book; the book flung itself open, the pages rapidly turning, before slowing to a stop.

“He paid a price,” the monster laughed. It seemed to grow in size as it hovered there, grinning. In seconds it was bigger than Pinky, nearly the size of Yakko's head.

“Y-Your Majesty?” Plotz had arrived. He stood in the doorway, flanked by a pair of guards and he looked horrified. He took one look at the monster and paled drastically; he looked seconds away from fainting.

When the monster saw him it laughed harder than ever.

“Foolish minion…” It trailed off, shaking its head. It gestured sharply at Yakko. “Little king,” it repeated. “Little prince and princess.” It sounded almost friendly when it added, “So brave, so clever. Come...Come…” It tapped the book. 

“Kidses, stay away from it,” Scratchy ordered. The monster ignored him; its eyes were on the Warners.

“Had revenge,” it all but whispered. The book began to levitate, surrounded by a faint red light that perfectly matched the monster. It floated towards them. “Need power,” it said. “You need to stay strong.”

The book stopped only inches from Yakko’s face. The pages were filled with names; men and women, dozens ( hundreds if the other pages were filled) from ages past, from centuries ago...And so very recently too.

The last name on the page was Salazar’s.

“Good God,” Scratchy gasped.

“Sign,” the monster cooed. “We can make you strong.”

Visions filled Yakko’s mind: Ticktockia in flames, Salazar’s ancestral home collapsing into a pile of rubble. Their parents, holding their arms out with proud smiles. A glowing crown being placed on his head by a smiling Scratchy; Wakko and Dot casting powerful spells, summoning rains of fire. He saw Salazar dragged screaming into the ground again and again, his eyes melting.

And a sword. A sword with a red glow; a thin sword with a pitch-black blade, its pommel carved like a snarling demon.

“Sign,” the monster whispered. Just like that, the visions vanished and Yakko was standing in Salazar’s hidden lair once more.

His siblings looked horrified and Yakko wondered if they’d seen what he saw.

If he wasn’t furious before, he was now.

With a scream of sheer rage, Yakko summoned the glowing sword for the first time since Burbank. It glowed like the sun, a replica of William's sword under the glow.

He lashed out and sliced the book in half. The red light vanished and the two halves fell to the floor with dull thuds. The pages began to wilt; the leather covered began to crack, and the names looked old and faded.

“Oh,” was all the monster had time to say, in a surprisingly weak voice, before it deformed into mist and vanished. It sounded surprised, maybe even a little frightened.

Yakko hoped it was. He hoped all of those damned demons were frightened, because if he ever caught a glimpse of them again, he’d destroy them all.

Snarling, he rounded on Plotz and grabbed the man by his shirt.

“You,” Yakko growled. “Have a lot of explaining to do.”

Plotz’s hand was shaking as he placed the ruby ring on the table between them. It had been bright and beautiful when he and Ralph had tried to catch Yakko, and in Burbank...Until Salazar fell. Within moments of Salazar’s death, the ring had begun to look old, worn down and cheap.

Now it looked ancient.

The ruby was dull and cracked; the gold was chipped and blackened, it was bent out of shape, like someone had tried to smash it.

But Plotz assured them it had been thrown into his safe. No one had touched it, or even looked at it, for weeks.

“I think it’s the magic,” he said with a weak shrug. He cringed under their harsh, judgemental and angry gazes. “Once Salazar’s spells ended, it began to look like…” He sighed and gestured to it. “Well, like that. ”

“Hm, speaking of Saladbar,” Dot said coldly. “Mind telling us why you didn’t mention that creepy evil-wizard lair!?”

“Truthfully?”

They nodded impatiently.

“I thought it would vanish too,” Plotz said. “That it would go away.” He didn’t manage to look any of them in the eye. “At the very least, I assumed no one would be able to open it. That steel door had no locks or keyholes, no chains, no handles; Salazar had to use magic to open it.”

“You obviously thought wrong,” Yakko growled, in no mood to be placated. Scratchy tapped at the table impatiently. 

“But vhat to do with all...zat?” he asked.

“Burn it,” the Warners said together. Wakko tugged on his ears in agitation, eyes narrowed. Yakko pulled him in closer.

“Burn those spell books,” he said firmly. “If any of those potions can be used for good, bring them to Nurse’s team. But those books? I want them gone. I want any weapons destroyed- and I want that well filled in, I want that room gone. ”

“Agreed,” Scratchy said.

Plotz looked relieved. Yakko glared at him.

“And you,” Yakko said, pointing at him. “You’ve been under house-arrest long enough. Time to make yourself useful.”

“Your Majesty?” Just like that, Plotz looked nervous again.

“He gave you a freaky ring,” Yakko said. “But you weren’t hurt.”

“Other people were,” Wakko added.

Dot smiled sweetly, but her eyes were ice-cold. “It’s time you see that.”

“It’s time you do something about that,” Yakko finished. They grinned at him, fangs on show. “Time to get to work, Plotzy.”

Chapter Text

“Come on Plotz, ‘cause you've got lots to see before we're through!” - Animaniacs

It was the first time Plotz had been invited to the palace. Other than that...trip to Salazar’s lair, and the coronation, he’d been under strict house arrest, only allowed to wander his own gardens.

All the money he’d collected (taken) from the people of Acme Falls had been returned. He’d had to sell some of his own treasures to afford the lifestyle he was used to.

And now this. Whatever this was. The Warners had said it was time for him to get to work, but for the life of him he couldn’t imagine what they had in mind. They were odd children; they could think of something simple and harmless, or they could put him through hell. It all depended on their moods.

They weren’t fond of him, that much was clear. So he imagined they had something dreadful in mind.

He was escorted to the throne room. The three Warners were on their thrones, with Yakko’s council, Scratchansniff and those odd mice off to the side, watching keenly. 

Plotz bowed, keeping his head down.

And then there was an odd noise; the sound of a gavel being brought down onto a block.

Plotz looked up. The Warners were all suddenly dressed in matching black robes, glasses and fluffy white wigs. Each held a gavel, each behind a bench. He fought back a sigh; trust those kids to treat this like a game.

Princess Dot pointed at him with her gavel. “Thaddeus Plotz, you’re guilty in the first degree of causing pain and misery,” she declared.

“I- er...Yes, Your Highness,” Plotz said, bewildered. What else was he supposed to say? That he was innocent? That wouldn’t get him anywhere- except maybe a dungeon if he was particularly unlucky.

“You’ve harassed all of Acme Falls,” Prince Wakko said. He ate his gavel and block, and burped loudly, patting his chest.

“And you’re pretty useless sitting at home under house arrest,” King Yakko said, lounging carelessly against the bench. He grinned sharply. “You know what I like about you, Plotz?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Absolutely nothing!”

Pinky laughed, guffawing loudly. Scratchansniff coughed pointedly; Yakko pouted at the Duke, but turned back to Plotz, looking much more serious.

“You’re sentenced to community service!” Yakko said brightly. “You’ll be helping to feed, clothe and home the people of Acme Falls. You’ll be working under Nurse and Rita.” His eyes narrowed. “And they’ll be reporting back every day, so unless you wanna end up in a dungeon after all, you’d better behave.”

Community service. It...Could have been much worse. The thought still made Plotz frown; the idea of working closely with peasants made his skin crawl, but it was better than being arrested. It was better than exile, a dungeon, or even execution. 

“You’re such a special friend,” Wakko said. In the blink of an eye, the Warners were dressed normally again, sitting on their thrones.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Plotz,” Yakko said, lounging in his seat. He winked and added, “Too bad you haven’t got a neck.”

Plotz could feel himself going red. Even the council was chuckling. Yakko waved a hand in dismissal.

“Go on, get outta here,” he ordered. “Nurse has work for you to do.”

The first day was awful. It was truly spring at last, so the snow had melted, the sun was shining, Acme Falls looked quite pretty now...but Plotz was hyper-aware of how everyone glared at him, how a pair of guards lingered nearby, under orders to keep watch on him.

Heloise Nerz, often described as kind and charming, did nothing but frown at him. Rita the cat hissed at him, and Pinky appeared to be sulking, keeping his back to Plotz and acting like he wasn’t even there. Runt growled at first, but otherwise he was quiet.

It was awkward, to say the least.

Unlike the Captain, who had a knack for making people like him, and who had let rebels escape in the past, Plotz didn’t know how to handle these people. He hadn’t committed any secret acts of daring-do, he had been a tax collector. He had willingly bowed his head to Salazar and everyone knew it.

It’s community service, he told himself sternly. Not the gallows. Just deal with it.

Still, the day dragged on.

He arrived in the town square at seven in the morning, and was on his feet all day, until he went home around seven in the evening. He wasn’t used to it. Truth be told, all his life he’d worked from behind a desk. He did paperwork. He was used to taking his time and going at his own pace.

Now he went at Heloise’s pace, and that was fast.

“You want me to what? ” Plotz gasped at her. Heloise raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Help cook,” she repeated flatly. She was a tall woman and in her high-heeled boots she towered over him. “It’s soup, it’s not that difficult.”

“B-B-But-” He stopped stammering when Heloise shoved a big knife and a fistful of carrots at him.

“Get to work,” she ordered.

Plotz huffed and frowned, and reluctantly got started. Chopping up the vegetables was tedious but, oddly enough, once they were in the pot and the soup was cooking it was- dare he say it- quite interesting. Almost fun. Almost. If asked, he would still insist it was dreadful and demeaning.

They worked from the town square, all of them helping to cook massive pots of stew and soup, and giving bowls out to the massive crowd lining up around them. Heloise had brought a frankly ridiculous amount of bread from the palace kitchens as well. Pinky handed people cups of tea and coffee. Heloise, a trained physician, sometimes left to go check on her long list of patients; Rita and Runt brought food and blankets from door to door, for the people who couldn’t leave their homes or jobs. 

Whenever they left, it was just Plotz and Pinky and that was certainly awkward. He’d apologised for the train incident, as had Ralph, but Plotz still felt uncomfortable whenever he looked at the mouse. Pinky, for his part, was strangely quiet. At least he seemed less sulky as the day crept on. Sometimes he even smiled at Plotz.

“What’cha think?” Pinky asked suddenly. He was stirring yet another pot of vegetable soup. Plotz was chopping up potatoes and keeping an eye on the boiling kettle of tea.

“It’s unpleasant,” Plotz said automatically. “But I know it could be worse.”

A little girl, a human with limp hair, came forward. She smiled up at Plotz shyly, hands held out. Pinky smiled at her, but Plotz didn’t quite manage it. Toons had had it much worse under Salazar; he’d never cared for them.

Plotz sometimes forgot that humans had it bad too. That Salazar hadn’t cared about them either.

Plotz hadn’t.

He gave the child a bowl and a cup of tea. She nodded in thanks and left as quietly as she’d arrived.

Plotz felt highly uncomfortable for a multitude of reasons, no denying it. This was demeaning work for a Baron, an embarrassing and odd punishment; he was surrounded by people who disliked him, if not outright hated him. 

And he was forced to face up to his own mistakes. The things he’d done on purpose. His own selfish actions.

But it was only day one, a little early for such realisations.

No, that would come later.

At the end of the week, Heloise kept in step with Plotz as they walked back to the palace. Pinky, Rita and Runt walked ahead.

“Well?” Heloise asked. “How are you finding it?”

He’d cut his fingers an embarrassing amount of times while chopping the vegetables. He’d spilled a kettle of coffee all over himself. He shivered in the cold air, feeling downright miserable when it rained. He huffed and puffed and didn’t make conversation with his colleagues-companions-whatever they were. His feet ached from standing all day. He was tired from the long hours.

But he felt...Not proud, not quite. Perhaps it was more accurate to say he felt productive. 

It had only been a week. People still frowned at him and preferred to be served by his companions if possible, but the people of Acme Falls didn’t look so miserable and beaten down anymore. That air of hopelessness and despair was gone.

And this time, Plotz was working with the people who were working so hard to make Warnerstock better, not worse. This time, he wasn’t bowing his head to a tyrant and hoping to escape notice. This time, there was no fortune and title to hide behind.

It was an odd thought. Unsettling, but not all together unwelcome.

The work lacked the uncertainty of house arrest at least. 

“It is...interesting,” Plotz said slowly. Heloise nodded. She didn’t quite smile, but there was a gleam in her blue eyes.

“Good,” she said. “That’s a step.”

On the third week, he accompanied Runt around the town, bringing bread, blankets and clothing to the citizens, while Rita stayed with Pinky. 

He saw the worn-down houses and crowded tenement buildings. He saw the hungry children, the ill people, old and young alike. He saw the shut-down businesses, the shops and restaurants. He saw the carts of food being brought into the town; he saw traders from other kingdoms be welcomed for the first time in five years.

He saw children eagerly stuff their little faces with bread. He saw people smile as they were given clean bandages and medicine. He saw a baby wrapped in a warm yellow blanket that he and Runt had delivered to the young mother. He saw buildings slowly get repaired; he saw some shops begin to open again.

It was spring. The sun began to shine in earnest; he’d always heard spring be called the season of hope, of new beginnings, but now he was beginning to understand.

He was beginning to see what hope could do.

And Thaddeus Plotz began to think.

“Heloise says you are not causing trouble,” Scratchansniff said, peering down at Plotz curiously. 

“I do not intend to,” Plotz said, and he meant it.

“Vhat do you intend?” Scratchansniff asked.

Plotz thought, frowning. “I’m not sure yet, Your Grace,” he admitted. “But I’ll think of something.”

When Plotz left the palace that evening, heading back home, he paused by his carriage. He looked up at the windows, only to find the three Warners looking down at him. Their expressions were quite unreadable, before they realised he saw them; they instantly began to pull faces at him, sticking out their tongues, rolling their eyes and puffing out their cheeks.

Plotz bowed, for once not resenting the action.

Despite his better judgement (or maybe because of it), he smiled.

The children smiled back.

At the end of the second month, Plotz requested an audience with the Warners. They granted the request and he was invited to the palace.

He wore his black suit, with the blue-and-gold tie. The Warners watched him curiously, perhaps even a little knowingly. 

Had they guessed his plan? Did they know what he was going to suggest? Or perhaps Plotz was still a little paranoid around them.

“With your permission, Your Majesty, Your Highnesses,” he began. “I have a business proposition.”

“Yeah?” Yakko tilted his head. “What kind?”

Plotz stood as tall as he could, which admittedly wasn’t much; he ignored the stares of the council, he ignored Brain’s suspicious frown.

He looked at the little king without fear.

“I wish to open a restaurant,” he said.

There was stunned silence in the throne room. No doubt, the council members had expected him to rail against his treatment, to throw a fit and make a complete fool of himself; no doubt they’d hoped for it.

The Warners looked at each other. They grinned.

Before Plotz could blink, three big messy kisses were planted on his lips. He sprung back in shock, wiping his mouth and sputtering. The Warners grinned up at him like eager puppies (which he supposed they were).

“Permission granted!” Yakko said cheerfully.

“Kidses, I’ve told you to stop that!” Scratchansniff protested. Plotz gagged again and wiped his mouth, but the Warners only laughed. Yakko patted him on the head as if Plotz was the child, and Yakko was the adult.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” he said.

“Just no neck, I know,” Plotz said, rolling his eyes.

Wakko shrugged, tongue poking out as always. “But you saw it, right?” he asked with a sly smile. Dot’s eyes were glittering as she smirked at him, far too knowing for comfort. Yakko just grinned at him.

“I saw it,” Plotz sighed. “Or at least, I’m starting to.”

“Good,” Yakko said. “That’s what we wanted.”

It was the latest source of gossip in Acme Falls: Baron von Plotz was opening a restaurant. It was the talk of the town; everyone was sure he’d change his mind, that he’d back out; they were sure he wouldn’t be able to handle the constant work, day in and day out.

But months later, after months of preparations and job interviews, Plotz’s restaurant opened- and what’s more, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

“You’re doing well,” Heloise said approvingly. She sipped her tea, looking around the jam-packed room. Plotz had briefly left the kitchen to join her.

“Thank you, Nurse.”

“Hm…” She took another sip and finally smiled at him. “Call me Heloise, won’t you?”

Chapter Text

“Constant as the stars above, always know that you are loved. And my love shining in you will help you make your dreams come true; will help your dreams come true.” - Barbie: Rapunzel

Five years ago...

Angelina was going to die. She knew this. She even accepted this. She was not going to escape.

William, her William, lay dead on the ground and it took every ounce of strength she had to tear her eyes away and look at Salazar. 

The man, the monster in human flesh, sneered down at her. She could hear the screams of her people all around her; her home was in flames, her country had fallen.

She was going to die.

But her children would not.

“Where are they?” Salazar demanded yet again. Two of his guards held Angelina’s arms behind her back, keeping her on her knees. A third stood by with a sword aimed at her neck.

“I don’t know,” Angelina said, and it was the truth. She could have laughed, though there was nothing funny about this. Her country had been invaded at last and they’d lost. She didn’t know where her children were, beyond that they’d been running with Scratchy. One moment, they were behind her and then they weren’t.

Thank god for small mercies.

Whatever came next, she and William would not be there to guide their children through it. Their three silly, wonderful children. They were so young, would they understand what had happened?

She didn’t get to give Scratchy the letters.

She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream; she wanted to claw Salazar’s eyes out; she wanted to hold William close and weep. She wanted to run and find her children.

She did none of these things. Angelina stared Salazar down, disgust and fury radiating from her.

“My lord!” Another henchman burst in, covered in blood. “We can’t find them,” he said. “We can’t find them anywhere.”

Salazar rounded on Angelina, hatred in his gaze. Time's up, she thought.

“Any last words?” he asked. The sword was raised and Angelina looked at William. She thought of her husband, she thought of her friends and she thought of her children, brilliant and bold and brave, all three of them.

Whatever came next, they would survive this.

Angelina smiled.

“Long live the king.”

The sword was brought down and she kept her eyes on William, her thoughts on her family, their lullaby echoing in her ears.

Five years later…

The Warner siblings sat huddled together on a window seat, each of them staring at their unopened letter from their mother. Almost in tandem, they opened the letters.

The last letters Angelina had ever written for them, perhaps one of the last things she’d written at all. The letters she was meant to give to Scratchy, before their plans were destroyed.

Wakko was scared, he could admit that to himself, or maybe to Yakko and Dot if they asked. He couldn’t guess what the letter was going to say.

But there was only one way to find out.

He forced his eyes to focus on his mother’s pretty, swirling handwriting and began to read.

My dearest Wakko,

I understand you’re probably angry at us. I’m sorry for the lie, I’m sorry for the trick, but I promise this is for the best. 

You’re a smart little lad, my love, so please try to understand. Your father and I have to deal with a very bad man. No doubt, Scratchy has told you his name: King Salazar. I’m afraid he’s causing trouble, and right now it’s safer for you to be in Burbank.

Please, Wakko, have fun. Enjoy yourself. Explore and play games, and when it’s safe again, your dadoo and I will come to bring you home. Sometimes things can be dangerous and right now it’s safer for you in Burbank. You’ve always wanted to visit and I want you to make the most of it. To simply have fun.

In the meantime, I promise to write as often as I can. I will send you whatever you want; simply say what it is, and it will be brought to you. I promise to think of you every day, and so does your dadoo.

Stay safe, Wakko.

We’ll be together again soon, my sweet boy.

All my love,
Mummy xxx

Wakko curled over the letter, holding it close to his chest. He closed his eyes and thought he could almost smell Angelina’s perfume; that he could almost hear her voice.

In a way, she’d been right. It wasn’t at all what she’d meant, but it was safe again and they were home now.

He wondered if Angelina and William could see it.

It was bizarre, holding the letter. Yakko had only so recently remembered that he’d even had parents at all and now, here he was, sitting in their old palace, their home, and holding a letter from his mom.

A letter that, according to Scratchy, she’d meant to pass to him, to explain to the siblings why they couldn’t go home yet. She’d meant for them to have these letters five years ago and now they had them at last.

She’d wanted him to have this. This was from his mom. There was no way he couldn’t read it.

To my darling Yakko,

You’re only nine and yet you’re the eldest; you’re so clever, I’m never sure how much I should tell you.

You’re only nine, and I’m sorry. You’re old enough to understand what is happening, more so than your brother and sister; I know you’ll be frightened. I know you’ll try to pretend you’re not.

It’s okay to be frightened, Yakko. I’ll tell you a secret: most people are. Everyone’s afraid of something, at some point. Even me, even Dad, even Scratchy. Yes, even grown-ups are afraid of things. Shocking, isn’t it?

(He swore he could hear her laugh as he read that.)

You love fairytales, so I’ll explain it this way: your dad and I have to fight an evil king. You, Wakko and Dot have to hide in Burbank, to stay safe. Scratchy is going to protect you while you’re away.

Dad and I will fight King Salazar to protect you all, to protect our home.

And, just like your favourite fairytales, when it’s safe you will come home. Just like those stories we both love, we’ll all live happily-ever-after.

But for now, have fun in Burbank. Try not to drive Scratchy too crazy. Look after your siblings. I’ll write as often as I can, and so will Dad.

My Yakko, my brave boy, I will see you soon. Just like our song: soon you’ll be home with me.

Love forever,
Mom xxx

Dot was crying as she finished reading hers, and Yakko and Wakko held her close. Their lullaby rang in Yakko’s ears and he closed his eyes, trying not to cry like his sister, trying to hold it together for them.

But within moments Wakko was crying too and that finally did Yakko in.

Crying quietly, still trying to hold back, he reminded himself that crying and that being sad did not make him any less brave, or any less the eldest. It didn’t mean he couldn’t look after them, as Scratchy was constantly trying to tell him.

I’m sorry I forgot, he thought, as if Angelina could hear him. For all he knew maybe she could. He hoped so. He hoped she knew they were home, that they were going to fix it all.

Angelina The Wise and William The Good. Yakko wondered what he and his siblings would be called.

That night, all three little Warners opened their music boxes and listened to their family’s lullaby as they tried to sleep, thinking of their parents. 

And all three thought to themselves that, in a way, Angelina had been right. They were home again, and they wouldn’t let that be taken from them again.

They were safe, as their parents had wanted.

They all hoped that Angelina and William could see it.

Chapter Text

“In the darkness and cold, the wind in the trees; a girl with no name and no memories, but these…” - Anastasia: Broadway

Five years ago…

When he woke up, he had no idea where he was. He had no idea who he was, and he thought the idea should have frightened him more than it did.

He woke up in the snow, on some train tracks. Dawn was breaking and the town around him looked like a war zone. Bodies lay on the ground; buildings still smoldered, there was the thick smell of smoke in the air. Uniformed humans marched to and fro, apparently not noticing the destruction. Some people stuck to the shadows, avoiding the soldiers.

Other than that, no one was around.

Shivering, he pushed himself to his feet. A small cloth bag lay by his feet and he picked it up, peering inside. It was full of clothes, most of them dark and made from warm, thick material. A glance down at himself showed him he was dressed in pyjamas, with a heavy coat thrown on top.

He frowned, looking around again. A part of him hoped someone would come running and tell him where he was; that they’d tell him who he was, what his name was, because the more he thought about it the more his head ached.

Biting his lip, he fiddled with the necklace he was wearing, a glittering jewel-studded star pendant on a thin gold chain. It was engraved on the back: Together In Burbank.

His frown deepened. Burbank. Where was Burbank? Was this Burbank?

He didn’t know.

He gave the soldiers a wary glance and ducked into the nearest alleyway, sticking to the shadows like he’d seen those other people do. He didn’t know why, but he had the feeling it was very important that he stay hidden.

His head hurt, he was cold all over and hungry. He didn’t know where he was, or what his name was. All these facts jumped through his head, faster and faster, until they were impossible to ignore.

He was alone, he was frightened and he didn’t even know who to call for.

Five years later…

When Yakko woke up, he was in his bed in the palace. He frowned up at his canopy, fidgeting with his hands and necklace.

He hadn’t dreamed of Warnerstock’s invasion in ages; to be precise, he hadn’t dreamed of the day after in ages.

Waking up with no memories had been bizarre. He’d wandered around for days, hoping the problem would simply sort itself out. He remembered quietly asking a baker if he was in Burbank, and being looked at like he was crazy.

“This is Acme Falls, lad,” the baker had said, and looked at Yakko suspiciously. “Hold on, where’re your parents, eh?”

“Gotta go!” Yakko said and fled into the crowd.

Acme Falls, in the days after the invasion, had been an odd place. Despite the crowded streets, it was quiet. Barely anyone spoke; if they spoke, it was in whispers. It was through these whispers that Yakko learned the King and Queen were dead, that the Crown Prince was missing; he learned that the Prince and Princess were safe.

He learned King Salazar had invaded, that his soldiers had slaughtered anyone unlucky enough to cross paths with them. The people whispered about dark magic. Taxes were already skyrocketing. People were afraid to leave their homes, only doing so if they had to. Some went outside to try and get some news. Even then, there was talk of rebellions.

And Yakko had dodged in and out of the crowds, looking around at everyone, desperately hoping to spot a familiar face. He hoped someone would know him, that they could tell him where he lived, where his family was- because he had one, surely? Everyone else seemed to. He hoped someone would call his name (not that he’d know it, but he hoped he would if they said it) and take him home. He knew he had to have a name. Everyone did. He just couldn’t remember.

His head had still ached, a dull throbbing that didn’t seem to properly stop. Sometimes he felt dizzy and had to sit down. Whenever he spotted a solider he’d run, every instinct screaming at him to not let those humans catch him, for reasons he couldn’t understand and didn’t question.

These were things Yakko already knew, things he already remembered. He’d had these dreams before, quite frequently when he was younger.

He couldn’t understand why he was dreaming of it all over again.

Palace life, Pinky found, was a lot of fun. He wasn’t expected to clean anymore, but he still did; he enjoyed it, and Wakko looked at him like he was crazy for it. Maybe he was, people always said Pinky was the insane one.

But his point stood: cleaning was fun. It was easy to make a game of it.

That was how Yakko found him; helping to polish a suit of armour and loudly singing, slipping down the freshly polished armour like a slide.

“Hiya, Yakko!” Pinky instantly ran to the little king, and Yakko stooped to lift him onto his skinny shoulder.

“Hi, Pinky.” Yakko yawned, but he smiled brightly. Together, they headed towards the dining room. Pinky could smell breakfast cooking, and his stomach rumbled.

“What’re we gonna do today?” Pinky asked. His new job was basically to keep Yakko, Wakko and Dot company, which was easily the most fun job that Pinky had ever had.

“I have meetings until later,” Yakko said, rolling his eyes. Pinky pulled a face, sticking his tongue out at the thought of dealing with the council all day. Still, at least Yakko would have Brain with him.

“We can play later then!” Pinky said, clapping his hands. 

Yakko’s wooden sword clashed against William’s and the king smiled at him, eyes gentle as always.

“Much better,” his dad said in approval. “You’re getting better every day, Yak.”

“Yeah?” Yakko asked eagerly.

“Soon you’ll be knocking me on my butt,” William promised.

Yakko beamed, standing as straight as he could and swung the wooden sword again. He wanted to be like William; to be as big and strong as him, to make everyone like him.

“What’s her name?” Yakko asked, peering down at the new baby. She was incredibly cute, with shiny black eyes, soft fur and a little red nose, wrapped in a pink blanket.

Wakko, only a year old, was curled up on Yakko’s lap, sucking his thumb and silently watching the baby.

Angelina smiled proudly. “This is Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca Warner The Third.”

“Mommy, her name’s bigger than she is,” Yakko said.

William burst out laughing. “He’s got a point, darling,” he said. He ruffled Yakko’s fur and grinned at Wakko. “Maybe you should tell them her nickname.”

“Dot,” Angelina said, laughing. “Her name’s Dot.”

Yakko woke up and sat up straight, rubbing his head. More flashbacks. Next to him, Wakko and Dot were fast asleep, but Pinky woke up with a little yawn.

“You okay?” Pinky asked.

“Yeah,” Yakko said. He shrugged. “Just remembering stuff.”

“That’s good, narf!”

Yakko smiled and lay back down. It was good. He always had trouble falling back asleep when his dreams turned into memories, but it was worth it to remember more about his parents, to remember his childhood and years in the palace.

He’d had bad flashbacks (such as running through the tunnel and waking up with no memories), so it was a relief to have some good ones.

It didn’t occur to him then, in the peace and quiet of his room, that he was still missing some important memories from the invasion.

As he closed his eyes, he could have sworn that the servants quarters, which he’d ordered to be boarded up, creaked open. He opened his eyes again and looked at the hidden door. It was firmly shut, locked forever as he’d wanted.

All the same, a shiver ran down his spine. 

He curled around Dot and tried to go back to sleep.

The next memory didn’t hit him until a week later. Pinky had come into his room and asked if Yakko could keep him company while he waited for Brain to finally finish all his paperwork and turn the lights off.

It was a typical request. Pinky sat on the pillow by Yakko’s head and they chatted for hours, until Yakko nodded off.

The memory hit him with a vengeance.

The tunnel was long and dark and narrow, eventually leading to a small cramped staircase, which opened up into the servants’ quarters: a small, drab bedroom, like a dorm, with six beds in it. They were near the back of the palace; it was quieter back here, but Yakko could still hear gunshots and his ear twitched at each bang and crash.

No one spoke. Scratchy led the way and the Warners followed at his heels. Yakko kept glancing over his shoulder, heart pounding. They were going to the back of the palace, but Mom and Dad had been going to the front. They’d catch up, wouldn’t they? They’d meet them outside?

The snow was coming down heavily when they finally got outside, emerging in the back gardens. The wind blew harshly, whistling through the branches of the trees. It was freezing and even quieter back here, but Yakko could smell smoke; he could still faintly hear fighting.

Their people were fighting and they were losing, he knew they were. He wished he didn’t know. He wished he could pretend everything was okay.

Every instinct told him to go find his parents. To run back inside and find them, to make sure they were safe, but even he knew running back in there would be stupid.

He was frightened, he was more scared than he’d ever been before. He’d never felt so small.

“Scratchy?” Wakko tugged on Scratchy’s sleeve, his little face scrunched up. “Where’s Mummy and Daddoo?” That was what Yakko wanted to know. Where were they? Shouldn’t they have caught up by now? Or were they ahead, waiting for them?

They weren’t leaving without Angelina and William, were they?

The words lodged in his throat and, as they slipped through a little side-gate, Yakko glanced back at the palace. He meant to ask about his parents, but he thought of that little mouse and another wave of guilt hit him.

“Do you think the mouse is okay?” he asked Scratchy.

“I’m sure he is,” Scratchy said. He sounded like he was lying, Yakko thought. The smile on his face looked fake.

Yakko faltered, biting his lip, ears drooping. Everything, absolutely everything, was going horribly wrong. 

“My music box…” He’d forgotten to grab it and then he’d gone and dropped it. It was such a small, stupid thing to worry about, but his mind latched onto it. It was a simple thing to worry about, among all the terror of this night. He could worry about his music box for a while, not his parents or people.

Maybe that made him selfish; his tutors were always telling him to act like a prince. Shouldn’t a prince be able to fix all this?

“I vill make you another,” Scratchy promised. “But ve must hurry.” He picked up Dot and carried her as they hurried through the snow.

Wakko clung to his hand and Yakko helped him to run, keeping pace with Scratchy. He wanted to break down and scream for his parents; he wanted, desperately, for this all to be an awful nightmare. He’d scream, he’d wake up, and then Angelina and William would make it all better.

Yakko couldn’t brush aside the awful thought that his parents weren’t going to catch up. He couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that they’d run into danger.

They were all running into danger.

Acme Falls was in chaos. There was so much fire, too much fire; Yakko choked on the smoke, eyes watering. He made Wakko pull his shirt up over his nose as they ran for the train station. There were soldiers fighting; their soldiers and...were those men from Ticktockia? They were, he recognised their colours and badges.

Why was Ticktockia invading? 

Where’s Mom and Dad? Yakko thought. Why weren’t they here, why hadn’t they caught up?

People were running, screaming and crying. There were loud gunshots, soldiers were storming around with guns and swords. It was like the worst part of a fairytale; it was a nightmare come to life.

There were too many questions running frantically through Yakko’s mind and not nearly enough answers, and what few answers he had weren’t good ones.

“Quickly now,” Scratchy said; they ducked through the fighting, frantic crowds, running for the train as it slowly began to pull away from the platform. It picked up speed, but Scratchy jumped on easily, holding Dot tightly. Fear tightening his chest, Yakko lifted Wakko and flung his little brother forward with all his might, onto the safety of the train. A man caught him, giving Wakko a reassuring pat on the back.

The train was going faster and faster, and Yakko struggled to keep up. He reached for the railing on the back of the train, but couldn’t grab on. He was too small, too slow, and the train was too fast.

“Yakko!” Scratchy handed Dot to the nearest passenger and held his hand out. “Yakko, take my hand!”

Gasping for breath, running as hard as he could, Yakko grabbed Scratchy’s hand. They barely reached each other and Scratchy stumbled, clinging tightly to the railing with his free hand to keep his balance. Yakko nearly slipped on the icy platform and Wakko struggled against the man holding him, reaching for Yakko with both hands; his eyes were big and terrified as he grasped at the empty air.

“Hold on,” Scratchy said breathlessly. He looked frightened too and Yakko really wanted to scream now. He tried not to cry, but his throat ached and he felt sick.

“Help him!” Dot screamed.

Their hands slipped and Yakko clung to Scratchy with all his might.

It’s gonna go wrong, he thought.

“Don’t let go,” he pleaded. Please, please, just let this one thing go right tonight; he wanted to get away from here, away from all the fighting and fire, away from the people lying hurt (or worse) on the ground.

So much of the snow was red.

And then it happened: he stumbled, losing his balance and Scratchy’s hand was pulled from his. The force of it knocked Yakko backwards and he finally gave in and screamed as he fell from the platform, onto the tracks.

“Yakko! YAKKO!"

“YAKKO!”

He landed right on his head. Within seconds, everything went dark and the last thing he heard was screaming; he heard Wakko and Scratchy screaming his name. He heard the shouts, screams and cries of his people as Acme Falls burned around them, as their country fell. He heard Dot give a high-pitched wordless scream that echoed on and on in his ears, and later in his dreams.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up on the tracks with no idea of who he was, or how he’d gotten there in the first place.

With that, the last big blank of Yakko’s memories had been filled in; he finally remembered that night in its entirety.

He bolted upright, screaming.

Pinky nearly fell off the bed when Yakko started screaming.

“Yakko? Yakko!” Pinky climbed up the little toon, tugging on Yakko’s fur and poking at his cheek. “Yakko, it’s okay, it’s just me!”

It seemed to do the trick, at least somewhat. Yakko stopped screaming, but when he started crying it was somehow worse. Pinky hugged him as best he could, shushing him.

Dot and Wakko burst in, Scratchy right on their heels.

“Vhat’s going on?” Scratchy demanded, his nightcap askew. The Captain lingered behind them, sword in hand.

“I dunno,” Pinky admitted, tail between his legs. The other Warners scrambled up onto the bed and held onto their brother.

“It’s okay, Yak,” Dot said, though she looked terrified. “It’s just us, it’s alright- we’re all here, see?” Wakko wordlessly held out a massive bar of chocolate, which Yakko didn’t seem to notice.

“I remember,” Yakko sobbed and everyone froze.

Uh oh, Pinky thought.

The Captain backed away, back into the hallway and closed the door. 

“Yakko?” Scratchy sat down; he put a hand on Yakko’s shoulder and Pinky had to jump down onto Yakko’s lap instead. 

“I fell,” Yakko said. “I hit my head, I-” He broke off with a shudder. “There was so much fire.”

Scratchy held him close and Yakko clung to him. Pinky stepped back, towards Wakko and Dot. They both looked devastated. Pinky knew those looks: they were feeling guilty again. He pat them both on the knee; Wakko gave him a wobbly smile.

And Scratchy- well, he seemed to have things under control. He rubbed Yakko’s back, murmuring breathing exercises to him, quietly promising it was all done now and Yakko didn’t need to be afraid.

Pinky thought of the boat to Burbank; he thought of Yakko sleepwalking, how all three of them had fallen asleep in Yakko’s bunk. They hadn’t been able to hold onto him, but they’d stayed with him and it had seemed to help.

But now…

Pinky frowned, wishing he was bigger, wishing he was as big as Scratchy. Maybe then he’d be able to protect Yakko properly. How was he supposed to do that, how was he supposed to be able to hug him when Pinky was so small?

He didn’t want to feel jealous (this wasn’t about him, it was about Yakko), but he did.

Hours later, when Yakko finally tried sleeping again, he tilted his head looking for Pinky. Wakko and Dot were squishing him and Scratchy had all but passed out on the end of Yakko’s bed, and was now sucking his thumb in his sleep.

Pinky was sitting cross-legged on the pillow, watching Yakko with concerned eyes, his ears drooping.

Yakko held a hand out and Pinky climbed on; he settled the mouse on his chest, gently holding onto him. Pinky reached up to poke his nose and Yakko smiled despite himself.

“You’re okay,” Pinky promised.

Yakko meant to say, "I know,” but what he said was, “Don’t go.”

“Not ever,” Pinky said. “Promise.”

Around three in the morning, the door slowly creaked open and Brain peered in. As the Captain had said, all three Warners were fast asleep in Yakko’s bed; Scratchansniff was snoring on the end of the bed. Pinky was curled up on Yakko’s chest, snoring as well.

Clearly, something had happened. But it was three in the morning and Brain wasn’t going to wake them up.

Frowning, he hopped up onto the bed and lay down on the pillow by Dot’s head. 

Whatever was going on, he’d have to find out in the morning.

Chapter Text

“I'll be right here now, to hold you when the sky falls down. I will always be the one who took your place. When the rain falls, I won't let go, I'll be right here.” - Ashes Remain

They were an unexpected quartet, Scratchy knew that. He, Heloise, Brain and Pinky; the four of them, looking after the Warners. There was Heloise with her highly impressive intellect, charm and beauty. Scratchy himself, prone to stress but (he hoped) supportive. Then there was Pinky, easily the oddest of them. Perhaps quirky would be the polite way of putting it, but he was kind and open-hearted. And Brain, brooding and ingenious, grumpy but well-meaning, not that Brain himself would ever admit it.

Not to mention their differences in station: Scratchy was a Duke, born and raised. Heloise was a nurse; Pinky and Brain were former servants and, bless them, they’d been lab experiments before that.

And yet they were the four looking after the royal children. They were the ones quietly watching Yakko the day after the last of his memories returned.

The young king was far too quiet, picking at his breakfast.

“Silence doesn’t suit you,” Brain said, sipping at his black coffee.

Yakko scowled. “I’m fine.”

“Yakko, ve really should talk,” Scratchy said.

“I’m fine,” Yakko repeated firmly. Wakko frowned at the adults, a silent warning to leave his brother be. Dot crossed her arms and Scratchy didn’t doubt she was ready to pull a mallet on them.

“Yakko, sweetie-” But for once, even Nurse didn’t have Yakko’s attention. Yakko abruptly marched out of the room with his siblings at his heels. Wakko paused in the doorway and hurried back to swallow his breakfast whole; he grabbed his siblings’ plates and ran after them.

“He’s being stubborn,” Brain said.

“Always has been,” Scratchy sighed.

“I don’t think he’s okay,” Pinky said with a sad little frown.

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious, Pinky.”

“Gosh, you’re welcome, Brain!”

“Any ideas, gentlemen?” Nurse asked.

Brain’s eyes narrowed. “He can’t pretend he’s okay forever,” he said. “He’ll end up running on fumes, you know what he’s like. But clearly being straightforward won’t work.”

Pinky perked up. “I think I have an idea!”

Brain looked as doubtful as Scratchy felt.

“Ja?” Scratchy asked warily.

Pinky nodded quickly, smiling at them all. 

“Well, it can’t be any worse than your idea for sneaking into the butcher’s shop,” Brain said. At Nurse and Scratchy’s curious glances he added, “Don’t ask.”

“The trenchcoat was a perfectly good disguise,” Pinky said, nose in the air. “Anyway, we won’t need trenchcoats this time!” He jumped off the table and hurried after the Warners.

“Do you wanna talk?” Dot asked quietly. Yakko was playing piano, but pretty slowly and half-heartedly. It was one of William’s favourite songs.

Yakko shrugged. “I dunno,” he admitted. “Look, sibs, I just- I’m sorry for freaking you out last night.”

“Don’t be,” Dot said. She bit her lip, not quite managing to look at either of her brothers as she said, “Besides, I get nightmares too. After Warnerstock was invaded, I used to get them all the time.”

Wakko nodded, leaning against Yakko. “We both did,” he said. 

“It makes sense that you’re getting them now,” Dot said.

“You guys had nightmares?” Yakko asked, looking completely woebegone.

Dot facepalmed. “ That’s what you got from that?” She slapped him on the arm, smiling a little. “You’re hopeless, Yakko. It’s okay to be scared you know.”

“I guess…” He didn’t look completely convinced.

“It’s what Mom said in her letter,” Dot reminded him. “And Mom was always right.”

At last, Yakko smiled. He began to play the song in earnest. “Okay, sister-sib, you got me there.”

“Are you gonna eat that?” Wakko asked, pointing to Yakko’s plate of toast and sausages. He didn’t wait for an answer; he shovelled the food into his mouth. Sighing, Dot handed half of her portion to Yakko.

“You’re disgusting, Wakko.”

“I’m hungry!” Wakko protested.

“Me too,” came Pinky’s voice from the doorway. Dot looked away from the piano; Pinky stood there alone, smiling and twirling his tail.

“You’re not here to lecture me, are you?” Yakko asked.

“Nope!”

Yakko beckoned him over; Dot scooped down to lift him up onto the piano lid and handed him some toast. Pinky sprawled on the piano lid, nibbling away happily. Wakko looked at the toast mournfully. Dot, sighing, tore it into three and gave her brothers a piece, keeping the last chunk for herself.

“It’s better with cheese,” Pinky said, gulping down the last mouthful. He glanced at Yakko. “You know, Brain and I were lab experiments.”

All three of them froze in place.

In the hallway, Brain buried his face in his hands. “That idiot, ” he groaned.

“No, wait,” Nurse hushed, watching the proceedings with keen eyes. “I think Yakko’s listening. They all are.”

Brain, seated on Scratchansniff’s shoulder, peered into the room; the Warners were looking at Pinky in shock (and not a little horror), but Yakko scooted in closer to Pinky with clear concern.

“Really?” he asked. Pinky nodded.

Brain couldn’t help but frown. This was Pinky’s big idea? To tell the children a horror story? Why would he-? Ah. He understood.

Reluctantly, he had to admit (to himself at least) that it may just work.

“It was really scary,” Pinky said. “We were just regular mice, you know? But the scientists had kidnapped some toons, they wanted to see if they could transfer toon powers to regular people. They started out with us; they said they were starting small.”

“That’s awful, ” Yakko said vehemently. He turned back to the piano keys, playing harshly; it was an angry tune, fast-paced and loud.

“Yup,” Pinky agreed. Dot gently stroked his head; Wakko’s ears drooped. Pinky smiled at them. “But the King and Queen found out; a bunch of guards and knights broke into the lab and arrested everyone. That’s how we ended up here! We were brought to Nurse and she healed us up! And when we were all better, your mom and dad asked if we wanted to stay or go home.”

The kids were watching him. Yakko had stopped playing piano, Wakko leaned in closer and Dot’s ears were perked up. They looked at him like he was teaching them something, Pinky thought. Well, almost. He knew they liked to mess with their tutors.

He looked at the three of them and shrugged with a smile. “Narf! We stayed- our home was a field, the palace is much nicer.” Yakko smiled at him.

This next bit was going to be tricky. Yakko might storm off again, and Dot and Wakko would follow.

“It’s still scary sometimes,” Pinky said, looking right at him. “It was a long time ago, but it’s still sad. Brain still gets angry. I dunno what happened to everyone after Saladbar took over, but some of them still had nightmares, zoit.” He bit his lip, wondering if he was making sense- but then again, the kids didn’t always like things to make sense, so maybe it was okay if he didn’t.

“It was a long time ago,” he repeated. “But it’s still scary, right?”

Slowly, Yakko and Wakko nodded. Yakko barely blinked, it was kind of funny when he did that, like he was trying to read Pinky’s mind.

“Yep,” Dot mumbled.

“So let’s talk about it, narf!” Pinky smiled at them earnestly, wondering if he looked as worried as he felt. “You’re all upset; the invasion scared me too. So let’s just talk about it. We’ll all feel better.”

“...You’re good,” Yakko said, poking him on the chest. He looked like he was trying not to grin too widely. “You’re getting sneaky on us.”

Pinky smiled, reaching up to poke Yakko’s nose. “Bbbbuuuutttt?”

“But you might be onto something,” Yakko admitted. Wakko finally smiled.

Scratchy, Nurse and Brain came in, done listening from the hallway. Nurse was smiling sweetly; Scratchy still looked really worried, but better than he’d looked earlier.

Brain climbed down off Scratchy to sit next to Pinky.

“Well done,” Brain said quietly, little above a whisper. “It was, dare I say, a rather good idea.”

“Aw, Brain! ” Pinky hugged him tightly. Brain choked, going bright pink.

“Get off me, you fool!”

“You liked my idea!”

“Someone get a camera,” Yakko ordered. Wakko immediately pulled one from his hammerspace and started snapping photos.

They talked for ages. Pinky didn’t look at the clock, but he knew they spent hours talking; they left the piano room and went to the Warners’ private living room, letting the council handle things for the day.

Pinky sat on Yakko’s shoulder like usual, while Brain sat next to Dot. 

“Hey, Pinky?” Yakko whispered.

“Yeah, Yakko?”

He nodded to his siblings. “Thanks for helping them too.”

Pinky saluted with a grin. “Sure thing! I wanna help.” He liked them too; he was pretty sure he’d end up loving them too, and they seemed to like him a lot as well.

It was only fair, Pinky figured. They were all friends, even if Brain tried to act grumpy about it. 

They were friends; they should all help each other.

Chapter Text

“But I knew, even then, in a crowd of thousands I'd find you again.” - Anastasia: Broadway

They were making plans to return to Warnerstock when Yakko spoke up; “You worked in the palace, right, guys?”

“Indeed, we did,” Brain said.

The Warners exchanged glances.

“So you knew our parents?” Yakko asked.

“Knew is a strong word; we worked for them,” Brain said. He closed his suitcase and looked at the Warners with a curious frown. Pinky looked up from his pile of clothing, glancing in between them all. 

The children already looked disappointed. Brain’s frown deepened. Well, that wouldn’t do, would it?

“We knew them from a distance,” he said. “They were good people.”

“You guys were there before we were even born,” Dot said. She sat on the edge of the bed and gave them her best puppy eyes. “Can you tell us about them? What was it like working for them?”

Emotional stories were not Brain’s forte. To be blunt, emotions in general weren’t his area of expertise. 

But he could stick to the facts.

“Where would you like me to start?” he asked. Grinning, Yakko and Wakko sat with their sister, looking terribly pleased with themselves.

“You said they set off fireworks when I was born,” Yakko said. “Did they do that for all of us?”

“They did,” Brain said. He sat down and regarded the Warners calmly, hands clasped in his lap. Very well then. Stories of their births. That was easy enough.

Fourteen years ago…

It was quite early in the afternoon when the bells began to ring. They started in the palace’s bell tower, then in the chapel, until bells were ringing through the whole town. Brain knew the bells would soon be ringing throughout all of Warnerstock.

The heir to the throne had been born.

He glanced up from the silver he was polishing, ears cocked to listen to the bells, to the cheers he could hear down the hall. The others all looked up, momentarily forgetting their work.

One of the butlers, Gerry, marched in with a beaming (and rather foolish, in Brain’s opinion) smile. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “We have a new prince.” He sounded so proud, as if he’d had anything to do with it. Brain nodded in acknowledgement, but everyone else started to clap and cheer. Pinky bounced up, arms thrown wide open as he cheered with the others.

Brain didn’t join in, but he could acknowledge the excitement. The baby was less than an hour old, and yet he already had the entire palace in an uproar. He wondered what this little heir would be like. Would he take after Angelina or William? Neither of them, or both?

Well, he supposed they’d find out in due time.

“There’s a new baby, Brain!” Pinky said, clapping his hands in excitement. He flopped back down next to Brain, ears sticking up, eyes bright. “Aw, I bet he’s gonna be so cute!”

The other servants were all talking loudly, celebrating and laughing. They were far too loud for comfort, and seemed to have completely forgotten their jobs.

Brain went back to polishing the silver. “I suppose most infants are supposed to be,” he said.

“Aw, don’t be such a bore, Brain!" 

Brain ignored him.

The bells went on well into the evening. When the sun finally set, the bells stopped, but then there was the fireworks. Everyone in the palace, from the council to the lowest servant, was called into the courtyard to watch the display.

It was an impressive display, Brain had to admit. He could see bonfires in the town and he could hear music; it seemed the people were celebrating too. Overheard, the fireworks exploded into blue and gold sparks; the courtiers clapped, the servants called out in awe.

Brain watched quietly, while Pinky cried, “Pew! Pew! Boom!” in time with the fireworks.

Frowning, Brain tugged on the pant leg of the nearest servant. “Incidentally,” he said. “What is the boy’s name?”

“Yakko,” the servant said. He sipped at the hot chocolate provided. He sounded nearly as proud as Gerry had. “Crown Prince Yakko William Warner.”

“Hm. Less of a mouthful than his mother’s name,” Brain muttered to himself. He looked at the fireworks, pondering the new little royal. He could understand the excitement- at least, for the most part. He couldn’t quite comprehend why everyone seemed so proud. Some sort of national pride, he supposed. Delight in a new heir, a future king.

If this baby grew up to be anything like Angelina or William, then Brain could acknowledge they’d have a very good heir indeed.

As the show ended, they all trooped back inside. Brain glanced up as the last of the sparks died down, and glimpsed the King and Queen watching from their bedroom window. Angelina was in a heavy nightgown and, cradled in her arms, was a little blue bundle. William was smiling at his wife and son proudly; even from a distance, gentleness radiated from him. He was always a gentle man, but everything about him seemed softer somehow.

Brain smiled a tiny, barely-there smile, but it was genuine all the same.

“Aww,” Dot and Pinky cooed. They looked equally starry-eyed. Brain slapped Pinky on the head.

“You were there, you nincompoop,” he reminded him.

“It’s still sweet,” Pinky said with a dreamy smile.

Brain rolled his eyes and turned back to the Warners. “It was the same for your births as well,” he said. “Or near enough, I should say. Wakko, you were born in the middle of the night, so the bells weren’t rung until the next morning.”

“Yeah?” Wakko tilted his head, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Yes,” Brain said, inclining his head in acknowledgement. “It caused quite the ruckus.”

“Those bells were loud,” Pinky said.

Eleven years ago…

They woke to the sound of bells. Loud bells. Lots of them.

“For pity’s sake,” Brain grumbled, rubbing his forehead. There was no point in trying to sleep through this. Even Pinky jumped up, startled, looking all around the room with wide eyes. Some of the others woke up with startled shouts, or loud yawns. One man shoved his head under his pillow with a frustrated groan.

Brain knew what the bells meant. A new prince or princess was, of course, highly important. Those blasted bells were still far too loud.

Yawning, Brain pulled on his uniform. “Come along, Pinky,” he ordered. Pinky got up with a heavy yawn, stumbling over his own feet, only half-awake, but he dutifully followed Brain out into the hallway.

Despite the early hour there were, as always, plenty of people around.

“Pardon me,” Brain said, flagging down one of the maids. “Do we know if it’s a prince or princess?”

“Another prince!” the maid said, beaming. She was carrying a large pile of towels. “Prince Wakko Harnell Warner.” Brain nodded in acknowledgement and the maid hurried on her way.

“Yakko and Wakko,” Brain said. He smirked at Pinky. “I’m sensing a pattern.”

“What type?” Pinky asked earnestly. “Floral or polka dots?”

Brain resisted the urge to slam his head (or Pinky’s) against something heavy. “Do me a favour, old friend: never breed.”

“Gee, Brain, I’ll try.”

(“Mwah! Goodnight, everybody!”

“Yakko, do you wish to hear the story or not?”

“Sorry.”)

They were only regular servants; they weren’t courtiers, nor did they work personally for the King or Queen. They were not important enough to attend the christening, nor were they important enough to be on the balcony, or in the courtyard, when baby Wakko was presented to the people.

But Brain and Pinky got a glimpse of the new little royal only a few days later.

They were helping to prepare the ballroom for the next party, another party to celebrate Wakko’s birth, when Angelina came in with Wakko in her arms and three-year-old Yakko at her side, one tiny hand clutching her deep purple skirt.

Everyone immediately bowed low, eyes on the ground.

“No, please, there’s no need for that,” Angelina said. She led Yakko to his seat by hers and William’s thrones; the little prince sat and Angelina gently handed the baby to Yakko. Their small team of nannies hovered by the prince’s side, watching with clear concern and ready to catch Wakko should Yakko fumble.

To do Yakko credit, he held Wakko as expertly as Angelina had. For once, he didn’t fidget. He sat perfectly still and straight, like the prince he was, smiling down at Wakko with a look Brain had never seen on the lad’s face before. It was softer somehow. Almost glowing.

Angelina spoke quietly with their supervisor, the head party planner. The rest of them got back to work, while the woman reassured the Queen that all would be ready in time for tonight.

As Brain helped set the table, he caught Yakko’s eye. The boy grinned, making Wakko wave a tiny fist at him. The baby gazed up at his brother with big black eyes, sucking on a red soother.

Brain bowed and Yakko’s grin widened. Wakko reached up to try grab his brother’s nose.

“I kind of remember that,” Yakko said. He grinned at Wakko. “Everyone was convinced I was gonna drop you!”

“All their fussing was for nothing,” Brain said. “You didn’t drop him, or your sister. Though if I recall correctly, one of the nannies nearly did drop him the first time Wakko summoned a pie.”

“Faboo,” Wakko said with a smirk.

“And me?” Dot asked. “What was it like when I was born?”

“Your parents were delighted,” Brain told her. “They’d openly spoke of wanting a daughter for quite some time.”

Ten years ago…

The newest Warner was born precisely at midday. The bells began and one of Angelina’s ladies hurried down the halls to announce the safe birth of a princess.

“Oh, they’ll be delighted!” one of the maids cooed, clasping her hands. “They were wanting a girl too.”

William and Angelina had indeed openly spoken of wanting a daughter. It was impossible to work in the palace and not overhear at least one discussion about it; they loved their sons, they were proud of them; they just wanted a daughter as well.

Brain carried on with his day, waiting for sunset, waiting for the firework displays to begin. From the window, he could see men on horseback heading down into the town square, no doubt to announce the birth of…

“What is her name?” Brain asked.

“They’ve named her for her mother,” Angelina’s lady-in-waiting said. “Princess Angelina Contessa Louise Francesca Banana Fanna Bo-Besca Warner The Third.”

“I...see,” Brain said. Truthfully, he’d been expecting a name similar to Yakko and Wakko’s. He supposed one of the children was going to get stuck with a ridiculously long name eventually.

Idly, he wondered how many announcers would stumble over that name, or get it mixed up.

“They’re calling her Dot for short,” the lady said. A much more practical choice, if you asked Brain.

Pinky was trying his best to say the princess’s full name. “Princess Angelina Countess- Princess Angelina Contessa Louise- no, Louisa...Pincess-”

“Princess,” Brain corrected him.

“Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Folanna-”

“Maybe you should stick with calling her Princess Dot,” the lady said with raised eyebrows.

Just as before, they were all called away from their official duties to join in the celebrations in the courtyard. Hot chocolate and treats were handed around; the fireworks exploded overhead; Warner blue and gold, and pink for Dot.

As they had before, William and Angelina watched from their window, with their attendants behind them. Wakko sat on his father’s lap, half-dozing; Yakko pressed his face against the window, eyes glued to the fireworks. Angelina held Dot, wrapped in a pink and yellow blanket, patterned with flowers. The Queen looked exhausted, and rightfully so, but blissfully happy. William held Wakko close and cooed over Dot, gently stroking the baby girl’s head.

“Lord help us, there’s three trouble-makers now,” a gardener complained, but he was grinning. He raised his cup and downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. “Hopefully this little lady will be better behaved.”

Brain seriously doubted that, but he didn’t mind it; the princes were handfuls, even at their young ages, but they weren’t bad children. If Dot took after her brothers at all, she’d be trouble too.

They were already hearing about how unbearably cute she was, but Brain didn’t doubt those three would bring chaos wherever they went.

Deep down, he had to admit he was looking forward to it. Just a little.

It would keep things interesting.

Dot was smiling at him; her eyes seemed softer than before. She rested her chin on her hands.

“I wish I could remember all that,” she said. “It sounds so cute.”

“The hot chocolate was top-notch!” Pinky said, giving her a thumbs up.

There was a knock on the door, and Scratchansniff walked in. “All done in here?” he asked. He spotted the pile of clothes on Pinky’s side of the bed and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Pinky.”

“Narf! On it!” Pinky zoomed over to the pile and started throwing the clothes into his suitcase so quickly his arms were a blur. 

Brain rolled his eyes, exasperated and fond. He glanced at the Warners. For a moment he hesitated; stories weren’t necessarily what he was good at. History and facts were easy, but sentimental stories were harder. Still, the children seemed happy. They seemed genuinely engaged and curious.

So he swallowed his discomfort.

“If you’d like, I can tell you more stories,” he offered. “We worked in the palace for eleven years; I’m sure I can think of something interesting.”

The three of them lit up. They all sat up straight, ears and tails sticking up.

“Yes please!” Dot cried.

“Really?” Wakko asked.

“Yeah!” Yakko nodded eagerly.

Scratchansniff was kind enough not to comment, but he smiled at Brain. 

Brain gave the three royals a small bow; he inclined his head to Scratchansniff and, with a frustrated growl, began to sort out the disaster Pinky was making of his suitcase.

Chapter Text

“Don't you know I'm still standing better than I ever did, looking like a true survivor.” - Elton John

They had to use the palace Salazar had claimed for this meeting. The one good thing to come from it was the opportunity to smash Salazar’s statues to dust with their mallets, and make a bonfire from Salazar’s portraits.

“Good riddance,” Dot said. She smashed the head off the last statue. She and her brothers immediately set about crushing it into dust like the others. It was cathartic, she’d freely admit it. Smashing Salazar’s statues was the most fun she’d had in weeks.

If only she could ignore the nagging worry in the back of her mind.

In mere days, they would be meeting the men who had ruled Ticktockia in Salazar’s absence. When he took over Warnerstock, he’d left a council behind; six men, each of them considered to be expert politicians. 

She knew they were clever; she knew they’d ruled Ticktockia well. Salazar had mostly left Ticktockia to them, more concerned with keeping the people of Warnerstock beaten down. But overall, these were Salazar’s people. They might want revenge. They’d likely look down on three little kids. She wondered if these men would take any of them seriously, even the adults.

They worked for Salazar, so she doubted it.

But maybe that was a good thing. If they were underestimated, they could take these guys by surprise.

Smiling, Dot helped light the bonfire and threw in an armful of Salazar’s portraits. He really did have a lot of them.

They made pretty good firewood.

Wakko shuffled awkwardly on the front steps. A light snow began to fall as they stood there waiting for the Ticktockia men. 

He didn’t want to meet them. He was sure they’d be jerks. 

If they thought they’d be invading again, they’d better think again, or Wakko would be smashing them into dust next. 

Finally, he saw a small line of cars appear over the hill; four cars with the Warner flags, the guards keeping an eye on the Ticktockia men; another three cars, for Salazar’s council.

Wakko’s fingers itched to pull out a mallet as the cars came through the open gates. Yakko stood as tall as he could, and his big brother didn’t look impressed, but if he was scared at all he didn’t show it. He didn’t look angry either. He just looked at the approaching group like they were dreadfully boring.

Well, they were a bunch of old men, so Wakko supposed they probably would be.

The cars stopped and the men climbed out. The Warner guards surrounded the path, and their personal guards were just behind them. Scratchy tensed up, eyeing the men nervously. There were six of them, as they’d been told to expect; each of them was quite tall, they had neatly trimmed hair and wore fancy jewellery- and to Wakko’s surprise, they didn’t wear Salazar’s colours. One wore green, one wore lilac; one wore yellow and another wore white; one wore black and the last wore turquoise. 

Wakko wasn’t into fashion like Dot, and he’d never quite wrapped his head around politics, but even he knew these men were making a point. After all, Wakko and his siblings wore their best blue and gold robes and crowns for a reason.

These guys had dressed carefully too.

They weren’t wearing red and gold.

The real question was why?

Dot didn’t know what to expect from these men. Well, no, she knew what she expected; she expected a bunch of arrogant jerks who would talk over them and try to threaten them. She expected men like Salazar.

The two groups stood in silence, staring at each other. The Warners on the top of the steps, the men standing on the path. No one moved. They barely blinked.

Finally, to Dot’s surprise, the man in green lowered himself to one knee and lowered his head. “Your Majesty,” he murmured. The others followed suit, all kneeling, all respectfully addressing her brother as the king.

Well then. This was a shocker.

Yakko looked surprised for a moment too, but he didn’t make a big deal of it. He just told the servants to help the men with their luggage and led the way inside, linking his arms with Wakko’s and Dot’s.

“I didn’t expect that,” Dot whispered to him. “I thought they’d try to yell at us.”

“Me too,” Yakko whispered back. He glanced over his shoulder at the men, eyes narrowed. “Bet they want something.”

“That’s a sucker’s bet.”

They’d dragged a heavy table into the throne room. Scratchy sat on his big comfortable chair on the dais with them. Brain sat with Yakko’s council, watching Salazar’s men with open suspicion. 

Yakko’s council was a mix of humans and toons, men and women; Salazar’s were all human men.

Yakko knew their names, though he didn’t know which one was which: Lord Daniel, Lord Gregory, Lord Bernard, Lord Jackson, Lord Anthony and Lord Eugene. All Salazar’s age or older- the oldest looked like he was in his seventies, with thin grey hair.

“May I introduce myself and my companions?” the oldest asked. “I am Lord Bernard, Your Majesty. These are my fellow councilmen and friends, Lord Daniel-” He gestured to the man in yellow. “Lord Jackson and Lord Anthony-” The man in white nodded and the man in black stared at them impassively. “Lord Eugene and Lord Gregory.” The man in lilac lowered his gaze and the man in turquoise held his head high.

Scratchy handled the introductions; “And as I’m sure you are aware, zis is King Yakko, Prince Wakko and Princess Dot.”

“An honour, my lords, my lady,” Bernard said. Yakko wasn’t sure he believed him, though at least he didn’t sound all smarmy and gross like Salazar. 

“Thank you for arranging this meeting,” Bernard said and Yakko resisted the urge to point out that they didn’t have much of a choice; neither the Warners, nor Bernard and his companions. They’d have to meet eventually.

For once, Yakko held his tongue. He just smiled in acknowledgement. 

“King Salazar wronged you greatly,” Lord Eugene said. “And for that, we apologise on his behalf.”

“He killed our parents,” Yakko pointed out. “He invaded our country and took our home. He tried to kill us only a few weeks ago. So, uuuhhhh- yeah, no, I don’t accept the apology. He wasn’t sorry and you guys had nothing to do with it. So let’s skip that garbage, yeah?”

The men looked shocked. Brain sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead.

Yakko got straight to the point; “What do you want?”

For a moment, silence reigned. Salazar’s council looked more stunned by the second.

Then Bernard, Jackson and Gregory laughed.

“As blunt as your mother!” Bernard chuckled. Gregory wiped a tear from his eye, still laughing.

Bernard grinned; it made him look more wrinkled than ever, but his brown eyes were still bright with amusement.

“Alright, lad, fair enough. You’re too like your parents to bother with flattery, eh?” He sounded sincere, to Yakko’s surprise. Genuinely amused.

Bernard folded his arms and regarded them with a smile. “Well, it’s simple enough. Ever since Salazar invaded, he ignored Ticktockia. He was obsessed with expanding his borders, but he was quick to forget the country he left behind. We’ve led Ticktockia for five years; we’ve reigned as a joint council since Salazar left.” His gaze was keen, intent. “We’d like to keep it that way. So, we’d like to know what you want. To come to an understanding.”

“Hold on,” Yakko said, realisation dawning. “You think we’re going to invade you? ”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise after everything,” Anthony said quietly. “Our king was wrong. I assure you, Your Majesty, not everyone agreed with him.”

The look on Dot’s face screamed that she didn’t believe that for a minute. Honestly, Yakko struggled with the idea too. It was easy to believe everyone from Ticktockia was evil. It was easy to believe anyone who worked for Salazar was evil.

That may not have been the case.

It was an uncomfortable realisation. He’d expected these men to be exactly like Salazar.

“We would like to come to an understanding, Your Majesty,” Bernard said. “There is too much history and bad blood for us to be friends; I freely acknowledge that. We did not stand up to Salazar, I acknowledge that too. There is a distinct lack of trust...But I would like to work on that.”

“And to keep your job,” Yakko said.

Bernard smiled. “And my head on my shoulders.”

Yakko, Wakko, Dot and Scratchy exchanged glances. Scratchy still looked wary; when Yakko looked at Brain, his friend now looked curious.

“An understanding,” Yakko repeated. He’d expected arguments; he’d expected shouting and fury. He hadn’t expected this. He felt tiny with them all watching him; sitting on the throne, his feet barely brushed the floor.

Maybe it was a trick. Maybe it wasn’t.

An understanding.

Slowly, Yakko let himself smile. “I think we can manage that.”

Chapter Text

“Out of the shadows, the morning is breaking and all is new.” - Dear Evan Hansen

The reports from the orphanage were promising. 

As they’d expected, more and more of the original staff had to be re-trained, and most of them had to be fired entirely. As such, most of the staff was now hand selected by Nurse and Scratchy, with Yakko’s approval.

The reports said the roof had been fixed; the new gardener was growing vegetables and fruit, taking good care of the garden. There were two new chefs and one who had worked there when Yakko still lived there. The mold had been taken care of; more beds were brought in, warm clothing and blankets. Most of the matrons and teachers had been replaced; some of the new teachers had brought their own textbooks to the orphanage, while more were shipped in from Acme Falls.

After weeks and weeks of work, it sounded like the orphanage was finally up to scratch.

Yakko looked over the latest report and grinned. Well then, he’d better go see this for himself, hadn’t he?

This time they took the car. As they approached, Yakko could already see a difference; for one, there was no hole in the roof. The whole building had been repainted and that instantly made it look brand-new.

The gates were looking cleaner; probably polished at last, or so he guessed. The new gardener hurried over to unlock the gates and let them in.

The garden itself was transformed: the grass was neatly trimmed, there were little flower beds. Yakko couldn’t see the promised fruit and vegetables, but he supposed they must be out back. At any rate, the little shed by the wall even looked neater.

The new head matron came down to meet them at the door. Like the previous matron, she was tiny, only a little taller than Yakko; a human woman named Holly. She was younger than the last matron with fluffy brown hair.

And, unlike the last matron, she smiled.

“Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, Your Grace,” she rattled off, curtsying to him, his siblings and Scratchy. “It’s an honour to have you here.”

“Hi, Elo!” came Daisy’s eager little voice. She raced over to hug him around the legs, quickly doing the same to Wakko, Dot and Scratchy.

“Yakko, Daisy,” Yakko corrected her. At the same time Holly said, “Remember, sweetie, this is Yakko.”

“She’s gonna keep calling you that, huh?” Dot asked.

“Guess so,” Yakko said. He shrugged. “She’s only four, I don’t think she really gets it.”

“Are you gonna play with us?” Daisy asked. She looked like she’d had some proper meals at last, with a new sparkle in her eyes. 

“Sure thing,” Yakko promised. He looked to Holly. “But first, we’re gonna take a look around.”

Holly smiled and smoothed down her apron. “Of course,” she said. “If you’ll follow me?” She led the way down the hall. Daisy huffed but after a moment she rushed after them and took Scratchy’s hand.

Yakko didn’t recognise the dining room. The furniture was all brand new; the old, faded and peeling wallpaper had been replaced with a soft blue and pink wallpaper; there were new blue curtains, a thick rug under the table and chairs, and a large vase of flowers in the centre of the tables.

“Whoa,” Yakko said.

“Nurse Heloise had a rather specific style in mind,” Holly laughed. “But I think it’s quite pretty now that it’s all finished.”

“It’s so much prettier,” Dot said approvingly. 

There were no damp spots, no mold; everything was clean and new. It actually felt like a dining room, somewhere safe to sit down and eat without worrying about food poisoning. 

“Better,” Scratchy said. He nodded happily. “Zis is much better.”

“The food’s real yummy now,” Daisy piped up. 

They saw that for themselves when Holly took them through to the dining room. The chefs all stopped what they were doing and bowed, eyes on the ground.

“Don’t,” Yakko said, gesturing for them to straighten up. He looked around curiously. Like the front garden, the entrance hall and dining room, the kitchen was much cleaner than before (though Yakko had never spent much time in here; sometimes he and some of the others tried to steal snacks at night, or they were told to help prepare lunch, but that was it). 

No mold. No leaky faucets. The cracked window had been replaced. The walls and ceiling were freshly painted. The stove looked brand new. No grease or rust to be seen.

And the pantry, he was pleased to see, was filled to bursting point with food; bread, vegetables, fruit, even some cakes; milk, tea bags (for the staff he was sure), sugar and salt, butter and flour, oil...Everything they needed. There were more cleaning supplies than before, off in a side room, which had previously only had a few mops and a bit of soap.

He lowered his voice and said to Holly, “They’re all eating okay?”

“They are, Your Majesty,” she said. “I promise.”

Truth be told, Yakko was still getting used to trusting most adults; Scratchy, Nurse, Brain and Pinky were one thing, but everyone else? He was still wary of Ralph sometimes, and that guy wasn’t exactly a threat.

But Holly looked earnest, her hazel eyes warm, her smile sweet. She looked, funnily enough, like a mom- and what they’d seen so far was certainly promising. The reports had all been good. 

So Yakko decided to trust her for now, and carry on.

Every kid they passed seemed much happier; they’d clearly been eating properly, one worry off Yakko’s mind, and their clothes were in good repair, no gaping holes or poor stitching to be seen. They looked healthier, plain and simple.

There were more than enough beds in the dorms, each laid out with a thick green blanket. The attic, previously a place of punishment, was now used for storage. A previously unused room was now a playroom. The classrooms had proper books, and none of them were falling apart at the seams, as before.

Yakko agreed with Scratchy: this was much better.

Dot looked around with a satisfied smile. Scratchy looked plain-out relieved. Wakko had looked so frustrated when they were last here, but as he took everything in, his smile grew, his tail slowly wagged.

Daisy tugged on Yakko’s slacks.

“Can we play now?” she asked. “We’ve got a swing set!”

The Warners exchanged looks and grinned.

“Lead the way, little lady,” Yakko said.

Scratchy waved them away. “Go on,” he said. “I vill speak vith Holly.”

The whole place really was transformed. Daisy sat on Wakko’s lap on the swing, while Yakko pushed Dot for a while; some of the kids were playing jump-rope or hopscotch. Plenty more were just chasing each other around, enjoying the spring air.

They’d always played when they could, but everything was different now. More hopeful. There was no hateful, spiteful staff watching their every move; no matron glaring from the window; no one was getting dragged inside and punished for some imagined offense or “being too loud.”

Yakko hopped onto the swing next to Dot and swung rapidly back and forth, easily keeping pace with his sister. Wakko grinned and swung faster, keeping an arm tight around Daisy.

Yakko couldn’t keep the grin off his face. 

Just like he’d promised, they’d fixed it. They’d made things better. The orphanage was finally a safe place to live.

Yakko turned his face to the sun and closed his eyes, letting the happy shouts and laughter wash over him. If he needed any proof, here it was: he was doing something right.

Maybe he’d be a good king after all.

Chapter Text

“Now I fly, hit the high notes; I have a voice, hear me roar tonight. You held me down, but I fought back loud.” - Roveena

Sometimes Yakko’s powers still acted out. It was frustrating, but none of the adults seemed surprised. Scratchy pointed out that he’d only started to overcome his power block a few short weeks ago.

“Practice makes perfect,” his godfather said cheerfully. 

Maybe that was so, but it was still frustrating when his stupid powers just wouldn’t cooperate.

He’d be zooming around with his sibs when his toon-speed would suddenly stop; he’d trip and land flat on his face and, no matter what he tried, he couldn’t get back up to speed. He’d cheerfully summon pies to hurl at people and, in the next moment, he wouldn’t be able to summon anything. Sometimes when he simply reached for his mallet it would flicker in and out of existence.

And one thing that really nagged at him: that glowing sword. He hadn’t summoned it since Burbank. He’d tried, he’d tried until he was exhausted and half-asleep, but it never showed up again. It didn’t even flicker; there wasn’t even a faint outline in Yakko’s outstretched hand. Not even a little spark.

Nothing. Was it always going to be like this? Were his powers always going to flicker in and out? 

“Don’t be foolish,” Brain said with a surprising amount of patience. They were in the royal library and his tiny friend calmly sorted through piles and piles of books, all on toon theory and toon powers. “Power blocks can be overcome, Yakko; have patience.” He glanced at Yakko as he sorted through the books, with the ghost of a smile. “You beat Salazar, did you not? I have every confidence you can do this too.”

Compliments and niceties were not normally Brain’s thing, so Yakko appreciated it even more.

“You think so?” he asked with a smile.

Brain nodded. “No doubt. You Warners are a stubborn bunch.”

Brain sat in on most “training” sessions. Truth be told, these sessions usually consisted of Yakko, Wakko and Dot hurling summoned objects at targets while an older toon watched and gave instructions or tips.

Brain watched to take notes.

The Warners had good aim. There was no doubt that Wakko and Dot were more confident with their powers; after all, they’d had consistent training over the years and had never lost their powers. When they wanted to summon something, be it an object or an entirely different background, they could do it. They could contort their expressions into something monstrous, they could stop people in their tracks with a simple hand gesture; Wakko and Dot could zip around with unnatural speed and jump inhumanly high with ease.

All of these were things that Brain had seen Yakko do too. Sometimes it came easily to Yakko, but other times his powers seemed to short-circuit. They stopped at random. Sometimes Yakko’s nerves would get the better of him and they wouldn’t work at all.

And then there were the times his powers would fly out of control when Yakko was truly furious or upset. Those times were easily more dangerous; anvils would drop down from nowhere, or bursts of fire would fly up around Yakko.

Then, there was Brain’s final observation: Yakko’s powers worked best when his siblings were there.

Brain closed his notebook and thought it all over. Power-blocks could be overcome, he knew they could; it was a matter of working through the trauma. It wouldn’t always be straightforward or easy, but it could be done. He was determined that it would be done.

However, there was the matter of the sword. That odd, glowing sword, that Yakko had summoned only once- no, twice, if you counted that bizarre shared dream the Warner siblings had.

Oh.

Brain’s eyes narrowed, his thoughts going a mile a minute.

Yakko summoned another pie and hit the target dead on. Dot whooped in glee, while Wakko hurried about licking up the cream splattered on the ground. Yakko grinned at them, eyes shining with love for them.

Brain had theories. He always had theories, but this was now a pressing matter that he refused to put aside.

The Warners had shared a dream in which their parents turned into monsters- Salazar’s monsters. All three of them had sleepwalked that night; all three of them had ended up in dangerous situations.

When those monsters had lunged for them, Yakko had pushed his siblings behind him and leapt forward with that strange, glowing sword, wearing a miniature copy of William’s armour. What’s more, the sword looked exactly like William’s under the glow.

Yakko had looked up to his father greatly. He still did. Everyone knew it; it had been William who instilled it in Yakko that the pen was mightier than the sword, but that he should never be afraid to protect his family.

He had been called William The Good for a reason. The King had been beloved by all of Warnerstock, but especially by his family. How many portraits had there been of him in his armour, sword on display and head held high? In those portraits, he’d looked like a knight from legend.

William had been gentle and protective. A good man; a man that even Brain would admit he’d held in high esteem. It was no wonder Yakko, as a child and now, had hero-worshipped him.

And what better way to protect his siblings than by emulating their father? By summoning a copy of William’s sword, the sword he had forged himself as a squire…

There was no doubt in Brain’s mind. This summoning at least, was entirely tied to Yakko’s emotions.

To be precise, it was tied to Yakko’s instinct to protect his siblings.

Yakko screamed in sheer frustration, tugging on his ears. He’d been trying to summon that sword again, non-stop for an hour now, with no success whatsoever. He felt like he was grasping uselessly at thin air- scratchy that, he was grasping uselessly at thin air, because nothing was happening.

He’d summoned a whole cannon today. Why couldn’t he do anything about the sword?

The more frustrated he got, the more he could feel his toon powers brewing, ready to burst out. His chest felt hot, his hands tingled; a massive mallet appeared in his hands, with an angry face painted on it, but it wasn’t the weapon he wanted.

He smashed the nearest target and put the mallet away, growling.

Dot and Wakko were as confused as he was. It wasn’t like Yakko couldn’t summon any weapons: he’d summoned dynamite, mallets, a cannon, an axe and even a few swords, but they weren’t the sword he wanted.

“Maybe take a break?” Dot suggested. Yakko sighed in defeat and sat on the nearest bench, resting his chin on his hands.

Wakko and Dot sat on either side of him; Wakko sucked on a multi-coloured lollipop.

“I don’t get it,” Yakko grouched. 

“Me neither,” Dot admitted. Wakko shrugged.

“I have a theory,” came Brain’s voice. He stood in the doorway, holding his notebook and looking quite pleased with himself.

“Care to share with the class?” Yakko asked.

Brain ignored the sarcasm. He joined them on the bench and flicked through his notes.

“It seemed simple in hindsight,” Brain said. “Think about the times that sword has appeared. The first was in your shared nightmare when Salazar’s monsters attacked.” He looked straight at Yakko. “What were you feeling at that moment? What was your first thought?”

The answer was simple; “That I had to protect Wakko and Dot.”

His siblings both leaned against him, smiling.

Brain nodded and Yakko supposed he was expecting that answer.

“And during the confrontation with Salazar?”

“I…” Yakko trailed off, frowning. “I thought of the dream. I just- I knew I couldn’t let him hurt them. I thought about Mom and Dad, and…” He held out his empty hands. “Well, it was just there. ”

“Precisely as I thought.” Brain handed over his notebook. The pages were absolutely stuffed with his scribbles and graphs, even a few rough sketches of the sword.

“I don’t believe that was an ordinary weapon,” Brain said. “It wasn’t made to be funny.”

“But we summon lots of stuff when we’re in trouble,” Dot pointed out. “It’s not always funny, it’s just way easier if it is.”

“And that sword has only appeared when your lives were in danger,” Brain said. “It has only appeared, Yakko, when you dearly wanted- no, needed- to protect your siblings. Think about it, child: it looks exactly like your father’s.”

“It does,” Yakko said softly. He smiled a little. “Dad’s didn’t glow.”

“No, but your father’s sword was normal. An impressive weapon, but normal nonetheless. I don’t believe there is anything normal about yours.”

Yakko wasn’t sure how to articulate what he was feeling, and that was rare. He thought of his dad, big and strong, but always so gentle and kind too. William had always always made Yakko feel safe.

Brain was looking at him, expression mostly unreadable, but maybe a little proud. Wakko looked as awed as Yakko felt and Dot was smiling.

“Simply put,” Brain said. “I believe that elusive glowing sword is the manifestation of your wish, your very instinct, to protect your brother and sister. The antithesis, if you will, to Salazar’s desire to harm them.” He raised an eyebrow. “After all, it cut through those monsters with ease, did it not? It was one of the only things that did.”

“Yeah,” Yakko whispered. “Yeah, it did.” He smiled, proud and a little defeated despite himself. “So you’re saying I’m not summoning it anytime soon?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Too bad,” Wakko said. “That thing’s faboo.”

“It is,” Yakko said. He ruffled Wakko and Dot’s fur, ignoring Dot’s protests. “But you guys are cooler.”

It was something to think about. As the days and weeks passed, as Yakko’s powers began to steady-out and get under control again, the sword did not reappear. No matter what Yakko tried, no matter how hard he focussed, there wasn’t even a spark of light.

And then that monster appeared in Salazar’s lair, and put those awful visions in their heads. 

When he finally summoned his sword again and cut that dreadful book in half, Yakko knew Brain was right: his only thought was that he had to protect Wakko and Dot.

Chapter Text

“Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound.” - Taylor Swift

They’d been living in the palace for a week. At first, it had seemed like a normal morning. The maids woke Wakko up, gently coaxing him out of bed; he picked his favourite blue sweater and red cap to wear and went to the dining room for breakfast.

That was when the first twinge of anxiety sparked to life in the back of Wakko’s mind: Dot was already there with Pinky, but Yakko wasn’t.

“Where’s Yakko?” he asked.

“Dunno,” Dot said. She neatly cut her pancakes, drinking her tea with her pinky-finger sticking out.

Wakko piled his plate high, but glanced at the door, waiting for his brother to run in, but Yakko didn’t show. Wakko began to eat and Yakko still didn’t turn up. It was unusual; Yakko was usually up before Wakko was. At the least, they usually arrived at breakfast together.

He swallowed a big mouthful of bacon and turned to Pinky.

“Where’s Yakko?” he asked again.

“Uh, gee, I dunno, Wakko,” Pinky said. He shrugged, smiling. “I came with Dot.”

“He’s probably in a meeting,” Dot said.

“He didn’t mention any meetings yesterday,” Wakko pointed out. Logically, he knew that didn’t mean much; meetings could be called at any time, the council could need to discuss things at any moment, especially if it was something urgent.

But Yakko usually sent someone to tell them he was busy.

Wakko didn’t like this. There was a weird, niggling feeling in the back of his mind, almost like an itch. 

This didn’t feel right.

Huffing impatiently, Wakko shovelled down the rest of his food (ignoring one of the maid’s scandalised little gasps, really they were so dramatic and weird) and pushed away from the table.

He had a brother to track down.

Yakko wasn’t in the throne room. The council members were there and they all bowed and curtsied when Wakko pushed the doors open.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” one of the men said; he was tall and fat with a big bristly moustache. He looked fierce, but he was always nice...However, for the life of him, Wakko could never remember the names of the council members. They all blended together in his mind, into a single big entity: The Council.

“May we help you, Prince Wakko? Did you wish to speak with us?” one of the ladies asked.

“Where’s Yakko?” Wakko asked.

They all looked at each other, all of them thinking it over.

“Apologies, Your Highness, but I don’t believe any of us have seen him this morning,” one of the other men said.

“You got any meetings with him?”

“Not until this afternoon, Your Highness.”

Wakko drooped, frustration mounting. He rushed off without a backward glance.

Yakko wasn’t in his bedroom. Wakko nearly knocked down one of the maids as he zoomed past her, into the room, but it was empty.

He stopped everyone he passed with the same question; “Have you seen Yakko?” and the answer was usually, “No, Your Highness, I’m sorry,” or a useless lead like, “I think he was in the library/gardens/ballroom.”

Wakko was increasingly convinced that grown-ups were useless.

He was also increasingly convinced that something was wrong. The longer it took to find his brother, the more he couldn’t ignore the awful feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, starting to burn in his chest.

Every instinct cried out that his brother was gone again.

The palace was huge, there was so many places to check, so many people to ask, and there were lots of things that still needed fixing- lots of projects that Yakko might offer to help with.

He could be anywhere.

He could be nowhere.

Wakko hated this. He’d sworn he wouldn’t let Yakko out of his sight again, he’d promised himself. They’d only been living in the palace for a week and he’d already lost his brother again.

I’ll find him, Wakko thought stubbornly, clenching his fists, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach. I’ll find him no problem.

(Except it was really starting to feel like A Problem.)

Wakko hated this. Sure, he knew Yakko wasn’t missing, not missing the same way he’d been before, but he still couldn’t find his brother and it wasn’t right. They were meant to stick together now. Wakko wasn’t meant to let Yakko go again.

Yakko hadn’t mentioned going into town today, but Wakko was starting to think he might have to run down there and check after all.

But then, from down the hall, he heard the piano playing.

Bingo, Wakko thought and zoomed down the hall so fast he left dust clouds in his wake.

Sure enough, Yakko was in the music room, playing the piano. His tongue was sticking out a little, much like Wakko’s, as he frowned in concentration. His eyes occasionally flicked to the sheet music, but for the most part he looked at the keys; he picked up the pace, starting to play with more ease. He stopped frowning and started smiling.

Wakko jumped on him so hard that he tackled Yakko clear off the bench and they crashed to the floor.

“WHOA!”

Yakko’s startled shout nearly shook the room, and Wakko clung to him as tightly as he could. There was a ringing noise in his ears and his chest felt too tight; his breaths came in quick gasps and he knew he was probably hurting Yakko, what with how hard he was clinging to him, his nails digging into Yakko’s arms, but he couldn’t let go. He just couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Wakko squeezed his eyes shut, his hands starting to shake.

“Wak? Baby bro?” Yakko sat up and Wakko gave a strangled gasp, but Yakko didn’t try to move any further; he pulled Wakko onto his lap, letting Wakko hold onto him. He stroked Wakko’s back, one hand resting reassuringly on his head.

“Wakko, it’s alright,” Yakko said. “Come on, deep breaths.”

“I-I could- I couldn’t find you,” Wakko sobbed; his throat tightened like he was about to cry, but his eyes stayed dry.

For a moment Yakko went very still, but then he started rubbing Wakko’s back again, gently rocking him back and forth.

“I’m right here,” Yakko said. He sounded calm and steady; admittedly, it made Wakko feel a bit better.

“I need you to breathe, bro, okay? Match your breaths to mine and focus on my voice.”

He did. Wakko kept his eyes closed and listened to his brother’s voice, focussed on matching his breathing to Yakko’s steady breaths.

It took a while, but Wakko felt better. His breathing went back to normal; everything felt normal again, though he suddenly felt awfully sleepy instead.

Yakko summoned a bright pink lollipop and handed it to Wakko, who immediately took it. He sucked on it almost absentmindedly, flopping against his brother.

“Feeling better?” Yakko asked.

Wakko nodded.

“I couldn’t find you,” he mumbled around the lollipop. He let his head flop against Yakko’s shoulder; he wrapped his limbs around Yakko like a koala, albeit a lot more loosely now.

One of the really great things about Yakko, Wakko thought, was that he never made Wakko explain what he meant, because he just got it. Wakko could say two words and Yakko would hear an entire speech.

Like right now. Yakko hugged him tighter, giving a little squeeze.

“Sorry for scaring you,” Yakko said quietly. “I’ll send someone to tell you where I’m at next time, okay?”

Wakko nodded again.

“Did you have breakfast?”

“Duh.”

Yakko chuckled, pushing himself to his feet, still carrying Wakko. “Well, I didn’t yet,” he said. “So how about seconds?”

“Good plan,” Wakko said. He let Yakko carry him down the hall. They were halfway to the dining room when Wakko spoke up again; “Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Of course,” Yakko said. “Any time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

That was another great thing: Yakko always kept his promises. Wakko had better ask Dot if she wanted to join in, she’d kill them if she felt like she was missing out.

But for now, Wakko held onto his brother, the best kind of reassurance that Yakko wasn’t going anywhere.

Chapter Text

“Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time. I feel alive. And the world, I'll turn it inside out.” - Queen

The Warners drove their staff absolutely nutty, and they all knew it. They gleefully caused mayhem wherever they went after all, it would be a surprise if the staff wasn’t driven crazy.

But it wasn’t just that. 

Yakko confused them. Yakko shocked them. Yakko absolutely scandalised them.

How? By simply being himself.

He’d spent five years looking after himself. The staff seemed determined to make up for that; they seemed genuinely happy to serve him, just as they did with Wakko and Dot. But unlike Wakko and Dot, Yakko waved away their offers of help and did things by himself.

He cleaned his own room. He repaired his own torn clothes; he even said he’d wash his own clothes and only backed down when Scratchy gently explained that the maids needed to actually work and that, simply put, it just wasn’t done.

Sometimes it even baffled Yakko to remember he once took all this for granted. He knew he was expected to smile and let everyone fuss over him (and hey, sometimes the fussing was nice! Really nice actually), but he felt weird letting people do things he could so easily do himself.

It was one more thing to get used to; not just for Yakko, but for everyone.

The first big shock for everyone came when they started to clean the palace. The Warners were in their simplest clothing, things they could get dirty without worrying about ruining them, but they were expected to observe. They were expected to help plan and direct the servants and volunteers around the palace. They were expected to stand there and give orders and maybe (maybe) do some light cleaning, like dusting.

Instead, without batting an eyelid, Yakko grabbed a big bucket of soapy water and a scrubbing brush. Ignoring everyone gaping at him, he got on his hands and knees and started to scrub at the grime-encrusted floor.

Even Wakko and Dot were staring.

His ears twitched in irritation and he paused, eyes narrowed as he frowned at them all.

“What?” he demanded. “I’m not doing it wrong, you gotta put some elbow-grease into it.”

“You-” Scratchy exhaled heavily, scratching his head. “Yakko, you do not have to do zat.”

“Okay,” Yakko said. He kept scrubbing.

“My lord,” one of the maids said. “That’s unnecessary.” She bit her lip, but made up her mind; she approached and went to take the bucket. “Please, Your Majesty, let me-”

“Jeez, it’s fine, there’s plenty of buckets!” Yakko threw his hands in the air, rolling his eyes expressively. “Take it if you want it so bad.” He went and grabbed another.

Scratchy seemed lost for words. All of the cleaners did.

Wakko and Dot shrugged and joined their brother. Dot stuck out her tongue, cringing in disgust at all the dirt, but Wakko strapped two scrubbing brushes to his feet and skated around the hallway.

During their second trip to the orphanage, while they played with the kids, Yakko’s coat was torn. He ran past one of the hedges, and his sleeve got snagged; as he tugged away from the hedge, it tore. He looked at it and sighed, poking at the hole.

“We can get it fixed up easily,” Dot said.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Yakko said.

In hindsight, he was pretty sure that Dot meant a servant would fix it up easily. Not that Yakko should.

When they got home he found some sewing supplies in the servants’ quarters and brought them back to his room. He perched on the window seat and started to sew the torn sleeve.

One of his head maids, a big hippo-toon named Marita walked in and gaped at him. She nearly dropped the basket of clean laundry.

“Er- Your Majesty?” She shook her head, looking absolutely lost. “What are you doing?”

“Huh?” Yakko thought it was rather obvious. Maybe Marita’s eyesight was going. “I’m sewing.”

Marita was one of their first new hires. She was one of the few people who seemed used to Yakko’s antics, be it blowing something up, or simply taking care of himself. Any other maid would have made a big deal and tried to convince him to hand his coat over for them to fix.

Instead, Marita put away the clean clothes and pursed her lips, watching Yakko curiously. 

“Do you need more thread?” she asked.

“Nah, I’m good.”

She left him to it.

Really, Yakko didn’t see why the others couldn’t just follow her lead. And they said he was weird.

It was little things too. Yakko didn’t let the guards help him in or out of the car; he didn’t accept anyone’s help down from their carriages. He squirmed and fussed when anyone tried to help him dress, even if it was just an offer to help him into a jacket.

Unless Nurse walked in; then he'd happily say she could help. Other than that? He simply wasn’t having it.

As they wandered around the gardens, trying to pick the perfect spot for Angelina and William’s statue, Yakko shivered as a harsh gust of cold air hit.

“Your Majesty, you’re shivering,” one of the butlers pointed out.

“No, really?” Yakko drawled. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You need a jacket,” the butler said. “Or a cloak.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Yakko promptly turned on his heel and started walking back towards the palace. He shouted over his shoulder to his siblings and Scratchy; “You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up!”

“Your Majesty?” The butler blinked rapidly, clearly wrong-footed. He rushed after Yakko. “Your Majesty, where are you going?”

“To get a jacket, Jarvis, duh.”

“My- my name isn’t Jarvis, Your Majesty-”

“Alfred then.”

Yakko’s guard appeared frozen in surprise until Scratchy gave the man a sharp push, pointing after Yakko and giving the man a stern glare, a silent warning to get going.

The guard took the hint and ran after Yakko.

Wakko’s guard broke the silence as they continued to walk. “If I may ask...Why does the King keep doing... that?”

Wakko and Dot shrugged. “Yakko’s just like that,” they chorused. 

Scratchy rolled his eyes, but he looked fond. “Zat is Yakko,” he said. “He is stubborn and independent. Zink no more of it.”

The thing was, Yakko’s behaviour started to rub off on his siblings. They’d always been hyperactive and zany; they’d always loved to jump out of the cars or from the carriages in the most dramatic ways possible, ignoring any offer of help.

But now? Now, as the weeks and months passed, Wakko and Dot started to refuse offers of help. They started to clean their own messes, their own rooms. They offered to help put their clothes away. They didn’t tell the servants to fetch them things they wanted, they simply went and got them. 

And it wasn't part of a prank. It wasn't to mess with anyone. The Warners simply began to look after themselves more.

The staff were at a loss.

“Even William and Angelina were not like this,” one butler said.

Marita continued her washing. “I think it’s sweet,” she chirped. Her husband, Flavio, nodded in agreement. 

“Not as sweet as you, my love,” he said. Marita giggled and blushed, playfully nudging him.

The others ignored their antics.

“I just don’t understand it,” one maid said, hands on her hips. “Do they not trust us?”

“They like to do their own thing,” Marita said.

“But they’re royalty. Yakko’s the king.”

“And such a funny little boy,” Marita said fondly. “Don’t you think?”

“I don’t get them,” Yakko complained. “They keep acting like I can’t do anything myself!”

“Their job is to take care of you,” Scratchy reminded him. “They vant to help, Yakko.”

Yakko slouched in his seat, arms crossed, a doubtful look on his face. Scratchy wasn’t sure how the boy managed to look sarcastic, but he did.

“They’re not saying you’re helpless,” Scratchy said, a little more gently. “They just vant to help.”

Yakko’s frown deepened as he thought it all over. This wasn’t the first time they’d talked about this.

“Ugh, okay, fine,” he said. “But I’m still doing things my way”

“I vouldn’t expect anything less.”

No, the staff didn’t get it. 

Some were insulted. Was Yakko trying to imply they couldn’t do their jobs?

Some were pleased. After all, it was less chores to worry about, if nothing else.

Some worried. Did Yakko not trust them? Was this leftover behaviour from the orphanage?

Well, yes, yes it was. But as far as Yakko was concerned, wasn’t it useful? Wasn’t it better that he just do his own thing and look after himself?

Sometimes letting them all fuss over him could be fun. Sometimes it was nice. And sometimes it felt like a big old waste of time.

It was just one more reason for the staff to consider Yakko insane, but at least it was harmless. It was a lot worse when he got bored and blew something up, and after Scratchansniff had a few talks with him, Yakko began to let them help more.

It was little things. He’d let someone fetch a cloak for him, or bring whatever snack he requested, rather then getting it himself. 

They’d take what they could get.

Chapter Text

“Burning like a fire, you feel it all the time, but wipe your teary eyes, ‘cause princesses don't cry.” - Carys

Dot was handling things surprisingly well. It was what the entire court whispered, what everyone agreed on: despite being the youngest, Dot took everything in her stride. She met Ticktockia ambassadors with a smile on her face; she listened to memorial plans calmly, barely batting an eye. She looked at suggested designs for her parents' statue and complimented the artists, her voice never wavering.

If you asked her family, those that knew her, you’d get a different story.

The closer they got to the day of the memorial, Dot’s temper flared at random moments. If either of her brothers were hurt, or upset in the least little way she’d fly off the handle. She couldn’t sleep? She’d be in a rotten mood the whole next day. (Not that she’d admit she’d had trouble sleeping in the first place.)

If Yakko was stuck in meetings all day, and she couldn’t see him, she’d utterly terrorise the servants and courtiers with pranks that verged on being outright mean. 

If Wakko was quiet and withdrawn, Dot would snap and snarl at anyone who so much as looked at her brother. She’d pace about like a tiny guard and slam the door in servants’ faces.

Scratchy knew her well: Dot wasn’t just angry, she was anxious. All that pent up emotion had to go somewhere, and Dot got mad. She let her fur puff up and bristle, trying to seem bigger; she’d bare her fangs and shout at everyone but Yakko and Wakko to leave her alone, to leave her brothers alone.

Her energy was all directed at her brothers, at protecting them from any perceived threats. Scratchy had known her since she was born; he’d raised her for five years and was still raising her now. He knew the signs.

But Dot refused to talk.

Spring had well and truly arrived. Dot’s mood mellowed out considerably since they first arrived. There’d been a spike of anxiety after that ‘trip’ to Salazar’s lair; she’d been shaken, clinging to her brothers and staying in Yakko’s room for a week. But after that? She’d seemed back to normal. She was back to her usual giggly self, playing tricks and games.

Talks of the planned memorial still made her turn quiet and angry, scowling at everything, but it was still better than the bursts or outrage from before.

And then Yakko got sick.

All hell broke loose.

When Yakko bolted from the lunch table, Wakko, Dot, Brain and Pinky ran after him. He ran into his bathroom and, through the closed door, they could hear him getting sick.

“Yakko?” Pinky’s eyes were wide with concern, and Wakko slammed the door open. The four of them hurried to his side; the little king looked utterly miserable.

Brain scrambled up his side and pressed a tiny hand to Yakko’s forehead. His frown deepened. “You’ve a temperature,” he said, and glanced at Wakko and Dot, both of them with an arm around Yakko. “Will you fetch Scratchansniff?” he asked.

Dot immediately bristled. “Why don’t you?” she snapped.

“Dot,” Yakko said tiredly. “Watch it.” He bent over double, ears drooping.

“I’ll get him, narf,” Pinky said and ran from the room.

Emotions were something that Brain was still working on, but he knew that look on Dot’s face: stubborn and ferociously protective. He bit back a sigh. No doubt he’d have to let Scratchansniff know about this too.

Luckily, the Duke arrived quickly and helped Yakko to his feet. His siblings stuck to him like glue and Pinky climbed up onto Yakko’s other shoulder.

They got Yakko back to his room where one of their doctors was already waiting.

“Come on, kidses,” Scratchansniff said, trying to lead the younger too away. Wakko immediately clung to Yakko’s arm, frowning. Dot meanwhile, bared her teeth in a snarl, her tail swishing.

“No way,” she said, surprisingly harsh. She glared at the doctor. “Well, what’re you waiting for, an invitation? Make him better!”

“Dot,” Scratchansniff said warningly. “Manners.”

“Well maybe if he did his job-”

“Maybe if you guys stop squishing me,” Yakko said, rubbing his head. “He can get close enough to check what’s up.”

Brain watched the little princess in surprise. Yes, she had a temper that came and went; yes, she was quick to react with violence. But the way she was snarling, fur bristling, fangs on show? She was acting like they were all threats.

“Maybe it was the fish,” Yakko said. “It tasted weird.”

The doctor shook his head, checking Yakko’s temperature. “Sounds more like a stomach bug to me, Your Majesty. Does your head hurt?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“And when did you first start to feel ill?”

Yakko had to think about it, lips pursed. “Uuuhhh...Last night.”

“Stomach bug then,” the doctor said. “It’s been going around down in the town. A few days rest and you’ll be right as rain.”

Dot made an impatient noise, jumping back onto the bed, sitting as close to her brother as she could. Wakko drooped, looking between the doctor and Yakko like he expected his brother to jump back up and start doing cartwheels- granted, it was Yakko, so Brain wouldn’t quite put it past him.

The doctor went to fetch some tonic to help settle Yakko’s stomach. Scratchy tutted and fussed, trying to make Yakko lie down properly and grabbed his pyjamas.

“Why didn’t you say you felt sick?” Dot asked, eyes narrowed.

Yakko shrugged, looking worn out, his eyes missing their spark. He wasn’t trying to get out of bed, nor arguing against the doctor’s diagnosis; those were the two big clues that he truly wasn’t feeling well.

“Thought it was all the junk we ate yesterday,” he said, yawning. 

“At least it’s not the flu,” Wakko said with a cautious smile. 

“Ugh, no thanks,” Yakko said, nose wrinkling. 

Dot kept frowning, tail still swishing in agitation. Pinky was cooing and patting at Yakko like a mother. Brain had to admit he was reluctant to leave Yakko’s side as well.

But his own reluctance had nothing on Wakko’s and Dot’s- indeed, Brain thought that Dot might actually bite Scratchansniff when the Duke ordered them all (albeit gently) to let Yakko rest.

Dot growled and, with obvious concern, Yakko took her hand. Scratchansniff looked at Dot in surprise, his own concern increasingly obvious. Wakko looked at his sister from the corner of his eye, tongue poking out more than ever.

“Perhaps it’s best to let them stay,” Brain cautioned.

Scratchansniff nodded. Pasting a smile on his face, the Duke went to the bookshelf and grabbed a thick book of fairytales.

“How about a story, ja?” he asked.

Wakko wasn’t totally dumb. He knew Dot wasn’t handling this well. He was freaked out too (Yakko was sick, that was always gonna be scary news), but Dot was ready to explode. The only people she didn’t snap at were him and Yakko. He was pretty sure that was saying something, because she normally had no problems snapping at them.

But as Yakko nodded off, Dot watched him with wide, frightened eyes. She clutched their brother’s arm and she growled under her breath when anyone came close.

They didn’t leave until dinner and even then that was only because Scratchy wouldn’t let them eat on Yakko’s bed.

Dot didn’t turn towards the dining room though. She marched off to the training room.

Wakko ran after her.

The freaky thing was that Dot didn’t say a word. She just let out a high-pitched wordless shriek of rage, summoned a gigantic mallet and started smashing every dummy and target in the room, screaming and screaming all the while.

Wakko watched her. 

His little sister flew around so fast she was a blur. She kept screaming at the top of her lungs, an angry wail that just kept going.

Finally, when the last target was little more than a pile of splinters at her feet, she stopped screaming and started crying.

Wakko was immediately at her side, pulling her into a hug. Dot clung to him, sobbing against his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Wakko told her. “Dot, it’s okay.”

“He’s sick,” she wailed, hitting his arm. “What if he dies like Mom and Dad? What if he dies, what if he dies, what if he-?” She broke off on a heaving sob.

The idea turned Wakko’s blood to ice, but it was time for him to take charge. He stayed steady, holding onto his little sister like he’d done thousands of times before back in Burbank and even before that.

“Yakko’s not gonna die,” he said firmly. “He’s not well, but it’s not bad, Dot. It’s a stomach bug, he’ll be okay in a few days.”

“You d-don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.” He was sure of it. This time, he wasn’t gonna let the panic take over. This time, he knew what was what- he knew Yakko was gonna be fine.

“Promise,” Dot said. She looked up at him with teary eyes, her nails digging into his back. “Promise me.”

Wakko looked her right in the eye.

“I promise, sis.”

It seemed to do the trick. With a wavering sigh, she flopped against him, her grip looser.

“I hate this,” she whispered.

Wakko rubbed her back, still hugging her. He hummed their lullaby and Dot finally relaxed properly; the tension left her, the anger was gone. All that frantic energy disappeared.

“Dot?”

“Hm?”

“I think you gotta talk to Scratchy,” Wakko told her. Dot groaned, rolling her eyes, but Wakko held onto her. “I mean it,” he said. “I do, and it’s helped lots.”

She didn’t look wholly convinced, but Wakko smiled at her.

“Yeah?” Dot asked warily, like she was expecting a trick, but not this time, not now. Even Wakko knew that now just wasn’t the time.

“Yeah,” he said brightly. “I talk about Mom and Dad all the time and it makes me feel better.”

Dot held his gaze, staring at him like she was trying to read his mind.

Eventually, she nodded.

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

Well, Wakko thought. It’s a start.

He took his little sister’s hand and led her to dinner.

Chapter Text

“You rode horseback when you were only three.” - Anastasia

The horse was beautiful; a soft dappled grey filly with dark eyes. She regarded Yakko almost curiously, a red saddle strapped to her back.

Yakko froze.

After days of dodging Wakko and Dot’s suggestion of going horse-riding, he’d eventually (and highly reluctantly) admitted he wasn’t so sure he knew how to anymore. He didn’t want to make a complete idiot of himself; that was only fun when he did it on purpose.

Dancing had come easily. He’d always loved doing that anyway; even without his memories he’d enjoyed dancing about, and when his memories returned dancing was pretty much muscle memory, even if he hadn’t been totally confident. 

But this? This involved an animal that was much bigger than him. Concern aside, Yakko had to admit he didn’t want to accidentally hurt the horse- because really, he wouldn’t put it past himself to run her straight off a cliff somehow.

He gently stroked her mane and she regarded him calmly.

“Hi,” Yakko said. “Violet, right?”

She neighed. Yakko nodded. “Nice to meet you too.” 

Wakko, Dot and Scratchy were already on their horses. Brain and Pinky were perched on his shoulders, waiting for him to climb aboard Violet.

Nurse, who’d been chatting with the stable hand, came over. Her thick blonde hair was in a ponytail and she wore a red riding jacket.

“Nervous, sweetheart?” she asked.

“No,” Yakko lied.

She saw straight through it.

“How about you ride with me?” she asked.

Goodnight everybody! Yakko thought. Smirking, he wiggled his eyebrows at her. She lightly slapped him on the arm and, before he could protest, lifted him straight up and safely deposited him on Violet’s back. She climbed up behind him and guided his hands to the reins and corrected his posture. Once she was satisfied she held him against her, her hands resting lightly on top of his.

“Don’t worry, it’s easy,” she said. “You remembered the waltz; you’ll pick this up again in no time.”

“Yeah, if you want me to concentrate, you’ll have to knock that off.”

“Do not let go of him,” Brain snapped. “I won’t have him scrambling his brains on the ground.”

“Oh hush, Brain, I have him safe.” 

Why did Brain have to say that? Yakko wondered. As soon as he said it, the drop back down to the ground seemed to grow.

He grit his teeth and gently guided Violet into a trot. Okay. Okay. If he could get through his coronation in one piece, he could definitely do this. It was all a matter of regaining his confidence.

“There we go,” Nurse said gently. “Not so bad, hm?”

“Hey!” Wakko called. He hurried his horse over and slowed down to keep pace with them, frowning. “Why does Yakko get to ride with Nurse?”

“Mwah! Goodnight everybody!”

Nurse pinched his arm. “Watch it, buster.”

“Because Yakko is re-learning,” Scratchy said. “You are not.”

“No fair,” Wakko grumbled.

“Boys,” Dot groaned, rolling her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Atta girl, Dot,” Nurse said with a laugh. 

Wakko pouted at Yakko. Yakko smiled back beatifically. 

It got easier as the time passed. Yakko slowly relaxed, reminding himself that he wasn’t going to fall off and crush Pinky and Brain under his weight, nor was he going to somehow hurt Violet. After all, it wasn’t like he was about to summon a mallet or run her into a fence.

It was just a few turns around the gardens, slowly picking up the pace until he was cantering around, keeping up with his siblings. Nurse kept her arms around him, quietly murmuring instructions and correcting his posture or grip when needed.

“Doing okay, sweetheart?” she asked.

Yakko nodded, twisting around to grin at her. 

“I forgot how fun it was,” he told her.

She smiled and patted him on the head. Pinky whistled a tune as they cantered along. Brain didn’t look so tense; if Yakko didn’t know any better he’d say the old grump was actually enjoying himself.

“Just don’t try anything crazy yet,” Nurse said. “You’re still learning.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t jump the fence yet?”

“Don’t even think about it,” Brain said flatly.

Smirking, Yakko steered Violet towards the fence, laughing outright when Brain impatiently pulled on his fur, hissing at him to behave himself.

Pinky, on the other hand, drooped in disappointment. “No jumps?” he asked.

No, they didn’t do any crazy tricks, but Yakko had fun. He kept pace with his siblings, the three of them cracking jokes and calling dares to each other. Dot showed off, jumping over the obstacles and sending her horse into a gallop. Wakko continued to sulk and eye Yakko and Nurse enviously, though he perked up when Pinky asked to see how fast he could go.

“You did brilliantly,” Nurse told Yakko. She helped him down off Violet, lifting him under the arms like a child and ignoring his protests.

“At least lift me bridal-style,” he said.

She smiled and patted him on the head. “You wish.”

“I do.”

Brain rolled his eyes, but when Yakko guided Violet back to the stables, he spoke up; “You did very well. Are you feeling more confident?”

“Definitely,” Yakko said with a grin. “It was a good start.”

“Maybe we can do jumps next time!” Pinky suggested eagerly.

Brain blanched. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Pinky.”

“Let the mouse talk,” Yakko said. He gave Brain his best mischievous smile. 

“Kidses,” Scratchy warned. “Behave.”

“He’s got good ideas,” Dot chimed in. “Maybe next time we can all go really fast.”

“We can race!” Wakko said, throwing his arms wide.

Brain and Scratchy looked perfectly horrified.

Chapter Text

“Our lives are made, in these small hours; these little wonders, these twists and turns of fate. Time falls away, but these small hours, these small hours still remain.” - Rob Thomas

Ralph was clearly up to something. Lately, he’d been in a good mood, a very good mood. He went around singing to himself and even hugged people at random (ignoring Scratchy’s protests.)

But no matter how hard they pestered him, for once Ralph didn’t crack.

“It’s a surprise,” he said cheerfully. As soon as the Warners had gotten within range, he’d scooped the three of them up into a bone-cracking hug. He was still holding them with ease.

“A good surprise?” Yakko asked suspiciously.

“Real good!”

“Do we win a prize if we guess it?” Wakko asked.

“Uh...I guess so,” Ralph said. He smiled. “But you’re not gonna guess it!”

“That’s what you think,” Dot said, poking him on the nose. In the blink of an eye, they were out of Ralph’s arms and dressed like detectives. “But we’ll crack you sooner or later, Ralphy!”

They didn’t crack him.

Yakko looked at their list of theories (renewing his wedding vows? Mrs Ralph was pregnant? Was it their anniversary? Was he planning some sort of party, or to give everyone presents?) and crumpled it up. They’d all proven to be wrong- so far at least. They couldn’t entirely rule out that Ralph was planning a party, Dot had spied on him as he’d bought a bunch of balloons and streamers.

Mrs Ralph had laughed when Wakko outright asked if she was pregnant, much to Scratchy’s ever-lasting horror.

(“It was an honest question!” Wakko had protested.

“It vas rude!” Scratchy had hissed, pulling Wakko back to the palace by the ear.)

“We’re not exactly Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, huh, siblings?” Yakko sighed. He tossed the list at the bin, cheering when it landed inside.

“I can’t believe we haven’t cracked him,” Dot hissed, who had taken their failures very personally. “And Ralph Jr. won’t say anything!”

“You’ll find out,” Wakko mimicked. He blew a raspberry and flung himself on Yakko’s bed, spread out like a starfish. “I wanna know now. ” 

“We’re royalty!” Dot cried. She pulled out her own copy of their list, eyes flickering rapidly as she read. “They should tell us if we command it!”

“This had better be worth the suspense,” Yakko said. He flopped back to lie next to Wakko. 

“It better be,” Dot agreed. “Or I’m throwing Ralph off the balcony.”

Yakko frowned at his star-patterned ceiling and thought of the evidence they’d gathered so far: Ralph had promised again and again that it was good news. It was something that had the guard in a wonderful mood for weeks now, practically vibrating with excitement. He’d bought balloons and streamers, all of them pink. Mrs. Ralph was clearly bubbling with glee as well and even Ralph Jr, usually so quiet, had a new energy about him. Mrs. Ralph wasn’t pregnant...

The decorations...If they weren’t for a party, what were they for?

A lightbulb flashed to life above his head. Wakko ate it.

“Oh hold on!” Yakko sat up straight, clapping his hands together. “Mrs. Ralph isn’t pregnant- what if they’re adopting?”

“Oh!” Dot clapped, tail wagging. “Oh, maybe! That would be so cute, don’t you think?”

“And Ralph Jr.’s adopted,” Yakko pointed out. “So they’d know what they’re doing! Which is a weird idea, never thought I’d say Ralph knows what he’s doing but-”

“But it could make sense!” Wakko said.

“Sibs, I think we’ve cracked the case!” Yakko declared. He rubbed his hands together, smirking at them. “Now let’s go find Ralph.”

They found him in the town square, on his lunch break at Plotz’s restaurant.

“Helloooooo, Ralph!” they cried, jumping on him. Their guards, used to their antics, merely ordered themselves some coffee and sandwiches. Plotz stuck his head out from the kitchen to nod hello.

“Duh, hi, Warners,” Ralph said. He blinked in bewilderment to find himself with a lapful of three little royals.

“We’ve cracked it,” Yakko told him. “Your surprise.”

Together, the three of them said, “You’re adopting another baby!”

Dot grabbed Ralph’s face. “We’re right, aren’t we?” she demanded. “We’d better be right.”

Ralph jerked back, shaking his head- but he was smiling. He nodded.

“We’s adopting another little one,” he said happily. 

“That’s great,” Yakko said sincerely. “When are they coming home?”

“Next week!” Ralph said proudly. “We’re gonna have a party and invite everyone!”

“We’ll be there!” they chorused.

Wakko sat on the counter, swinging his legs. “So, since we got it right, what do we win?”

Ralph tapped his chin. He glanced at the menu. “Uh, I can buy you guys some cake?”

“Deal!” the Warners cried. Yakko and Dot joined Wakko on the counter, while Ralph flagged down Minerva to order.

The week passed by in a blur of anticipation. They put presents together; clothes and toys. Slowly, Ralph had given them some information: they were adopting a little girl, not a baby, a toon like the rest of them.

Most of the presents were little dresses or dolls, put together under Dot’s supervision.

“New baby!” Pinky cheered on the ride to Ralph’s house. “New baby! New baby!”

Brain already looked exhausted.

There were pink balloons taped to Ralph’s front door and, through the living room window, Yakko could see the pink streamers on the walls and what appeared to be a big white cake on the coffee table.

They knocked and Mrs. Ralph answered. She was grinning widely, her eyes shining as she ushered them all inside.

“Und vhere is ze little one?” Scratchy asked as they trooped into the living room.

That was when a well-known voice cried, “Elo?” 

No way, Yakko thought. Grinning, he turned around just as a little white blur knocked into him, hugging him tightly around the legs. Daisy grinned up at him, new yellow-and-pink ribbons around her ears.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked.

“Here to welcome you home, evidently,” Yakko laughed, ruffling her fur. 

“You know each other?” Ralph Jr. asked.

“We were in the same orphanage,” Yakko explained. Daisy had let go of him to hug Wakko, Dot and Scratchy. Ralph lifted her up onto her shoulders; the little rabbit-toon giggled as she settled down, beaming around at them all.

“Huh, I didn’t know,” Ralph said.

“Elo?” Ralph Jr. questioned.

Yakko shrugged. “That was what they named me. She still calls me that.” He grinned up at Daisy. “You’re doing good, little lady?”

“The best!” Daisy cried, throwing her hands up.

Yakko didn’t doubt that. Ralph may have been dumber than advertised at the best of times, but he was a good sort, and so was his wife.

“You’re joining the party?” Daisy asked.

“We’re the life of the party,” Dot said, hands on her hips. “And we brought presents.”

Daisy whooped in glee and Ralph set her down so she could open the presents. Pinky cooed at her as she ripped the gifts open.

Yakko turned to Ralph. “She’s a good kid.”

“The greatest,” Ralph agreed, nodding. His eyes softened when he looked at her. “We love her.”

That was what Yakko liked to hear. He watched fondly as Daisy got Dot to play with her new dolls. He couldn’t help but smile.

Another friend had gotten their happy ending.

Chapter Text

“We have shed our tears and shed our sorrows, though the scars remain and tears will never dry.” - Anastasia: Broadway

They’d been putting it off. They’d been avoiding it and expertly dodging the topic.

But then Scratchy found Angelina’s letters, and the Warners couldn’t avoid it anymore. The topic loomed over their heads, unaddressed until now: their parents’ chambers.

All three of them were in the habit of hurrying past Angelina and William’s closed doors, averting their gaze and only slowing down once they’d turned the corner. They hadn’t been sure how to address it, they weren’t sure about actually seeing their parents’ room.

Angelina’s letters were the nudge they needed. It’s okay to be frightened, she’d written and Yakko could admit she was right. She’d called him brave.

It was time to be brave again.

They stood in front of the double doors, Scratchy and Nurse behind them; Pinky and Brain were on Nurse’s shoulders.

“You don’t have to do this, kidses,” Scratchy said.

“Yeah, we do,” Yakko said, just as Wakko had weeks ago. Taking a deep breath, he opened the doors.

At least the rooms had been cleaned. The first room was Angelina and William’s private living room, decorated in the Warner colours, and there were family photos and portraits on every wall. Not just formal ones, but informal ones; candid shots of them all at the beach, or the siblings playing. 

One of the new council members had asked if Yakko meant to take his parents’ rooms. He had the right to them, the man had said.

Yakko had hit him with a mallet. No one else asked after that.

As far as Yakko could tell (though a lot of his memories were still blurry) everything looked the same. Faded with time and lack of upkeep, but after weeks of non-stop work the room looked normal again. No dirt or damage, and if anything was missing he couldn’t tell.

He wasn’t so sure about changing anything in here. He didn’t want to take over this space; as far as Yakko was concerned, it wasn’t his. It was Angelina and William’s.

When they moved back in, he had no intention of staying in here. Once the palace was deemed liveable again he’d stick to his own room.

“Oh, wow,” Dot whispered. She tip-toed around, lightly running her hand over the furniture and giving the photos and portraits a slightly wobbly smile. “We used to hang out in here all the time.”

Yakko could mostly remember it, fuzzy though it was. He remembered both their parents reading to them in here; he remembered Angelina helping Wakko with his letters. He remembered William telling the story of how he became a knight. He remembered curling up on the sofa with Wakko and Dot and dozing off, sleepily watching as Angelina and William danced to their favourite song.

They’d loved dancing.

Wakko held onto Yakko’s hand. His ears and tail were drooping.

“You okay, little bro?” Yakko whispered.

“I miss them,” Wakko mumbled.

Yakko squeezed his hand. “Me too.”

He didn’t know where exactly Angelina and William had met their ends. He didn’t want to know. He wanted to remember them happy and laughing; he didn’t want to imagine their deaths.

His brain didn’t always get the memo, but for now he didn’t feel quite as anxious as he’d expected to. He didn’t want to run right back out at least.

Scratchy looked around and sighed heavily. “Ja,” he said sadly. “Zey loved to spend time in here. Zey always had friends in here.”

Yakko looked towards the seats by the window, where Angelina and her ladies used to sew. He looked towards the table, where William, Angelina and their closest friends used to play cards in the evenings, if they weren’t busy. He could imagine them sitting there clear as day.

He wished they were.

Quietly, Dot wandered over to the bedroom doors. She gulped and glanced back at Wakko and Yakko. They were instantly by her side, holding her hands.

It’s okay, Yakko reminded himself. It’s not gonna be a mess, they fixed it.

They may have fixed the room, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that two very important people were missing.

They could fix up the room, but they couldn’t bring Angelina and William back.

All the same, he opened the door.

At first glance, it was everything you’d expect from a king and queen’s bedroom. It was absolutely massive; the massive four-post bed could have fit an entire family with room to spare, on a dais of its own. The floor was marble, covered in thick purple rugs; the walls were papered in blue and gold. Everything was purple, blue and gold; the Warner crest was carved into the bed and a banner with their crest hung on the far wall. The chest of drawers and wardrobes were lined with gold paint and had crystal handles; the windows had stained-glass patterns. Chandeliers hung overhead, gold and diamond.

But there were the little touches of his parents in here.

There was a formal family portrait by the bed, but on the bedside tables were informal photos. Angelina and William playing with their children; a picture of baby Wakko smearing cake onto Scratchy’s face. Yakko waving from the ocean, with Dot on his shoulders; a photo of Dot at the piano, sticking her tongue out at the camera.

William’s desk was clean now, but if Yakko remembered right, it was usually a mess of papers and books, piled high precariously. Angelina’s sewing was neatly packed away in its mahogany box, but Yakko was sure he remembered scraps of fabric tossed about carelessly, and her sewing box left in the oddest places. Once, she forgot it in the bathroom.

Dot giggled, wiping at her eyes. “It’s too clean,” she said. “Their desks used to be a mess.”

“Zey vere,” Scratchy laughed fondly. 

Pinky jumped from Nurse’s shoulder down to Yakko’s. He pat all three of them on the head, giving a comforting smile.

“You okay, kiddies?” he asked.

“I...I’m okay,” Yakko said. He shrugged with a little helpless smile. “I thought it’d be worse. I was terrified of coming in here, but…” He trailed off, looking around. 

“It kinda helps,” Wakko admittedly slowly. He squeezed Yakko and Dot’s hands.

“Yeah,” Dot said quietly. “It does.”

Maybe it was because they hadn’t seen it when it was still a mess. Maybe they were learning to cope. Yakko wasn’t too sure; he just knew he didn’t want to run and he didn’t want to scream.

He wanted to cry, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Pinky summoned a tiny handkerchief and dabbed at Yakko’s wet eyes. Giggling despite himself, Yakko bumped their noses together; Pinky immediately tried to hug his nose, giving Yakko a beaming smile.

“It’s okay, narf,” Pinky said. 

That seemed to be all the permission Wakko needed to let go. Tears suddenly fell from his little brother’s eyes. Dot made a distressed noise and flung her arms around him and Yakko held onto them both. Dot squeezed them so tightly it hurt.

“Oh, kidses-” Scratchy hurried over to hug them, smoothing down their fur. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

The next thing Yakko knew, Dot was bawling against his chest. Nurse’s arms wrapped around them and he heard Brain mutter, “Oh dear.” 

Wakko sniffled and sobbed and it did Yakko in. He was crying before he could stop himself. Pinky, still on his shoulder, tried to wipe at Yakko’s tears again and hugged him as best he could, though that mostly meant he was squeezing Yakko’s cheek.

Yakko didn’t mind.

He didn’t feel as frightened as he’d expected. He didn’t feel okay, truth be told he felt terrible...But not nearly as bad as he’d thought he would.

Maybe he’d built it all up in his head; maybe avoiding it had made it seem scarier. Or maybe, just maybe, being in here helped. 

William and Angelina weren’t coming back. If they saw their kids crying like this, Yakko knew they’d move heaven and earth to make them happy again.

The thought alone made him smile.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“On the wind, ‘cross the sea, hear this song and remember.”

Wakko joined in, his voice wobbling; Dot’s was quieter than usual, but surprisingly steady; “Soon you’ll be home with me, once upon a December.”

Slowly, the tears stopped.

“I miss them,” Dot said. “I don’t- I don’t always remember them.” She sounded embarrassed, ashamed.

Yakko knew the feeling.

“They wouldn’t be angry if that’s what you’re thinking, sis.”

“How do you know?” Dot asked.

Yakko poked her on the nose. “I’m the eldest,” he said. “I know everything.”

“You wish.”

Wakko laughed, wiping at his eyes and nose. He went to the windows and looked out at the gardens. His tail and ears weren’t drooping anymore.

“Mum was right,” he said. He smiled at them over his shoulder. “We’re home and safe again.”

“Mom was always right,” Dot said. Some light was coming back into her eyes and she linked arms with Yakko.

Scratchy and Nurse were still watching them with concern. Pinky didn’t move from Yakko’s shoulder and Brain frowned, worry in his eyes.

But Yakko was beginning to feel okay again. Looking at his siblings as they started to poke fun at each other and smile, he was pretty sure they were too.

All the same, he leaned in to whisper, “You guys okay?”

“I- yeah,” Dot said. She slowly looked around with a sad smile. “Yeah,” she repeated, more firmly. “I think we needed to see it again.”

Wakko nodded. “I’m feeling better,” he said.

Yakko still felt odd being in here without his parents; he wondered if it would ever feel normal. When he looked around, he still expected Angelina and William to be in here.

They weren’t, and they couldn’t change that.

But Yakko, Wakko and Dot were here. They were home and safe, and they were going to make the palace feel like home again.

He didn’t doubt that Angelina and William would be with them every step of the way.

Chapter Text

“Did you see the sparks filled with hope? You are not alone, ‘cause someone's out there, sending out flares.” - The Script

Dot was held tight in a stranger’s arms, watching in terror as her brother ran alongside the train. Scratchy grabbed his hand, but the train was picking up speed and, when he tried to pull Yakko on board, he nearly slipped.

No, Dot thought. No, no, no.

She was five. She didn’t totally understand what was happening, she just knew it was all bad, very bad; horrible and terrifying. 

She didn’t know where Mommy and Daddy were, she didn’t want to lose Yakko as well. It was always her, Wakko and Yakko; it was always the three of them together no matter what.

“Help him!” Dot screamed, reaching out in vain. Wakko was hitting and kicking against the man holding him, reaching for their brother.

And then Yakko fell.

His scream echoed on and on in her head. She screamed until her throat ached, until her voice broke; she sobbed and kicked and screamed his name again and again.

It didn’t do any good. Yakko didn’t appear by her side, laughing and smiling, ready to make everything better like he usually did.

He didn’t appear at all. He stayed lost.

She cried until she wore herself out, collapsing in Scratchy’s arms.

The worst part was the trip to Burbank. It took two days by boat. Wakko barely said a word, staring at thin air with horribly blank eyes. Scratchy paced up and down, muttering to himself; he barely slept or ate. Dot didn’t want to get out of bed. She wanted her parents, she wanted her brother.

She woke up sobbing for Angelina; she cried for William and called for Yakko, but they didn’t come…

“YAKKO!” Dot sat bolt upright, heart pounding. She gripped her duvet tightly, half-expecting Salazar’s soldiers to pounce from the shadows, weapons at the ready. Of course there was nothing there. It was over now.

And that meant there was one big difference.

Dot climbed out of bed and went in search of Yakko.

For five years, whenever she’d dreamed of him, she’d had to face the fact he was missing. She couldn’t go look for him the way she had when she was little. She’d wake up, calling for him, only to be met with silence, and then she’d go and seek out Wakko, or Nurse and Scratchy.

But for the last few months, Dot could go get Yakko again.

She marched out of her room and down to Yakko’s. She could see light shining from under the door, and didn’t bother knocking.

“Yak?” she called as she walked in. “I had a nightmare.”

Yakko was sitting up in bed, reading a book. The lamps on either side of his bed were on, and he looked up in surprise when Dot walked in. Once he realised what she’d said though, everything about him softened; he set the book aside and held his arms out.

Dot ran to him, taking a running jump onto his high bed. She landed in his arms and her racing heart was already calming down. Yakko wrapped the duvet around her and Dot lay her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

Yakko was back. Yakko wasn’t going anywhere again. 

Dot knew that was a miracle, and it was one she wouldn’t take for granted.

“It was the invasion,” Dot whispered. Yakko held her close, rubbing the back of her head.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked.

“You were gone.” Her voice cracked. “I thought you were never coming back. We- we didn’t even know about Mom and Dad until we got to Burbank, we didn’t know for sure. We’d heard people on the boat talking, but…”

“But you didn’t know,” Yakko finished.

Dot nodded.

She used to dream about this too; about Yakko hugging her. She dreamed they were tiny again, running down the hallways of the palace; he’d turn a corner and vanish. She dreamed they were at a party, dancing, and when she spun around he was gone. She dreamed of Salazar’s soldiers closing in on him as he called for her help.

She’d dreamed of her parents as well. Memories turned into nightmares. She’d be hugging her parents and then they’d be gone in the blink of an eye. She’d have awful nightmares about their deaths, imagining the worst.

There was always so much blood.

But not now. Now she was safe in her big brother’s arms, right where she wanted to be.

Wakko was running. The ballroom seemed to stretch on forever. His parents stood on the other end of the room, arms held out in welcome.

“Wakko,” his dad called. “Come on, son, we’ll be late.”

But no matter how hard he ran, he didn’t seem to get any further. His parents stayed where they were, arms outstretched, barely blinking, smiling at him.

In the blink of an eye they were gone, and Wakko was alone.

Somewhere in the distance, a window smashed. There were gunshots and screams and Wakko could see fire through the windows. He stopped running, and the ballroom was back to its normal size. The windows smashed in one by one and he watched, frozen. The gunshots got louder and then, above all the noise, he heard Yakko.

“WAKKO!” his brother screamed. “WAKKO, HELP!”

“YAKKO!” Wakko shouted. He turned and ran for the doors. There were thudding footsteps and smoke on the air; he could hear screams but the one he focussed on was his brother’s.

“I’m coming!” Wakko called.

“Help me!” Yakko cried. Suddenly, they were hand in hand. Wakko was on the back of the train, surrounded by shadowy people and Yakko ran along the platform, eyes wide and terrified.

“It’s okay,” Wakko said. “It’s okay, big brother, I’ve got you.”

“Don’t let go,” Yakko said. He was nine again, smaller than Wakko, eyes round and filled with tears.

Wakko’s blood turned to ice, because he knew those words, he knew what came next.

No matter how hard he held on, Yakko’s hand was pulled from his. 

His brother screamed, falling backwards into the shadows and he vanished from sight.

“YAKKO!” Wakko screamed. “YAKKO!”

Wakko woke up, frozen. He didn’t scream, he didn’t cry- but he jumped out of bed and sprinted next door to Yakko’s room.

Wakko burst in and immediately jumped onto the bed. He didn’t even realise that Dot was there until Yakko pulled Wakko onto his lap as well. Dot looked at him with startled eyes, but she didn’t question him; she wrapped an arm around him, and Yakko hugged them both tightly.

“Nightmare?” he asked.

Wakko nodded, burrowing against Yakko’s chest. He knew his grip was probably hurting, but he couldn’t bring himself to loosen it.

“It’s okay,” Yakko said. “You’re both alright.”

“Looks like none of us can sleep tonight, huh?” Dot asked.

“Looks like it, sis.”

“Did you have nightmares?” Wakko asked.

“Tonight?” Yakko shrugged. “More like my dreams weren’t making much sense. I keep thinking about the memorial.” He sighed so hard his fur fluffed up. “Couldn’t get back to sleep after that.”

“What about you?” Dot asked.

“Hm…” Wakko huffed and flopped against Yakko again, hiding his face. “It was the invasion, sort of. Mom and Dad disappeared and- and then I was on the train, I…” 

“It’s okay, Wak,” Yakko said quickly. He rocked them both back and forth. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wanna.”

Wakko was happy to keep quiet. The longer he sat here, the more the dream felt...distant. It was fading away, not making his heart pound in panic anymore.

His parents were indeed gone. He couldn’t go run and find them, but he could hold onto his brother. Wakko wasn’t letting him go again.

“You okay, sibs?” Yakko asked after a while.

“Better,” Wakko mumbled.

Dot nodded, yawning.

“Wanna stay here?”

“Yep,” they chorused.

They ended up curled up together, almost in a pile. Yakko had an arm around either of them; Dot rested against his shoulder and Wakko lay his head on Yakko’s chest, the way he had in Burbank. Yakko’s heart beat against his ear and Wakko could feel the last of the tension leave him.

Dot yawned again; she nuzzled her nose against Yakko’s and lay back down.

“Tell us a story?” she asked.

Yakko hummed for a moment as he tried to pick one. They kept one of the lamps on and Wakko could see him smile.

“Once upon a time, a brave knight met a beautiful princess and they fell in love. Shortly after they married, the princess became the queen and they had two sons.”

Dot grinned and Wakko’s tail began to wag.

“But they wanted a daughter too,” Dot chimed in.

“Uh huh,” Yakko agreed. “So they planted a beautiful garden all over the kingdom, and on the first day of spring every flower in that garden bloomed.”

“And out of the prettiest flower…” Wakko continued.

“Came me!” Dot said proudly.

“So Mom and Dad took you home, and every night at bedtime they'd come in and say, ‘Who's the cutest girl?’ and you'd say-”

“I am!”

“And they'd ask, ‘How'd you ever get so cute?’” Wakko said. “And you'd say-”

“I was born that way,” Dot said in her best imperious voice, though she couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

“And they’d say ‘Tell us your name, young lady,’” Yakko said. “And you’d say…?” He trailed off, grinning at her.

“Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca The Third. But you can call me Dot!”

“And they’d say, ‘Can we call you Dottie?’”

“No,” all three of them chorused. “Just Dot. Call me Dottie and you die!”

The three of them lay there, tangled together and giggling. The nightmares were, at last, gone from their minds.

“Goodnight, sibs,” Yakko said. He kissed them both on the forehead. Dot kissed his cheek and Wakko nudged their noses together.

“Goodnight,” Dot said. “Love you guys.”

“Love you too, baby sis,” Wakko said, closing his eyes. “Love you both.”

“Love you,” Yakko told them. He kept steadily stroking their fur, the way he’d always done.

Smiling, Wakko let himself drift off, the words from the story echoing in his mind; ‘And you’d fall asleep with a great big smile in your heart.’

It sounded like a good plan to him.

Chapter Text

“When the sharpest words wanna cut me down, I'm gonna send a flood, gonna drown 'em out. I am brave, I am bruised, I am who I'm meant to be; this is me.” - The Greatest Showman

It was the first big event they were throwing, if you didn’t count Yakko’s coronation. So perhaps it would be better to say it was the first big event involving other countries.

But no pressure or anything, Yakko thought. It was only people from Anvilania, one of the biggest countries in the world, and Fantasia which was even bigger, Jollywood, Corona and Arendellle, and Wackyland…

Yeah. No pressure. Just a bunch of adults, very important adults, all watching and waiting for Yakko to slip up and prove he didn’t know what he was doing.

Well, they’d be waiting a long time then. Yakko narrowed his eyes at his reflection and held his head high, shoulders back. 

He was Yakko Warner. He was King Yakko William Warner, the eldest child of Queen Angelina The Wise and King William The Good, and he’d never forget that again.

He wouldn’t let anyone else forget that either.

They had to get up early, something all three of the Warners grumbled about. For once, Yakko let the servants help him, not dodging their offers of assistance, or dismissing them.

“It’s a big day!” Marita said cheerfully. She set the crown on Yakko’s head and smiled at him. “Chin up, Your Majesty.”

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked tiny; he wondered if he’d ever be as tall as William. But, dressed in the Warner colours with the crown on his head, he looked the part. At least the clothes all fit. That alone made a difference.

There was a knock on the door and, with a grunt of effort, Pinky pushed the door open.

“Good morning!” he said. He looked at Yakko and beamed. “Awww, you look great, Yakko!”

“Thanks, Pinky.”

Yakko knelt down and Pinky jumped onto his hand; Yakko placed him on his shoulder.

“Breakfast time,” Pinky said happily. “I walked past the kitchens, it smells tasty.”

“It usually is,” Yakko smiled. He turned to the servants. “Thanks,” he said.

They still looked pleasantly surprised; they bowed and curtsied murmuring, “Your Majesty.” 

Ignoring his nagging anxiety, Yakko went to breakfast. Wakko and Dot were already there; Wakko was packing away all the food as usual, while Dot ate at a more sedate pace. Scratchy and Brain were going over papers, muttering about the schedule. 

“So, game plan?” Yakko asked, reaching for the orange juice and coffee.

“It essentially boils down to smile and nod,” Brain said, eyes rapidly scanning his notes. 

“It vill be fine,” Scratchy said. He sipped his tea and smiled. “You just have to velcome everyone; remember to wave. And I vill be vith you ze whole time.”

Yakko smiled and served himself some pancakes. “Okay,” he said. “Smile, nod, don’t hit anyone with a pie. Should be easy-peasy.”

“Bet this’ll get really boring really fast,” Dot muttered to him.

“Yeah, probably.”

After all, a bunch of stuffy adults and a party where they had to be on their absolute best behaviour, and act like adults themselves? It wasn’t their idea of fun.

It just had to be done.

Welcoming everyone took most of the morning. Yakko stood on the steps of the palace with his siblings, Scratchy and the council, watching the long line of carriages and cars make its way through Acme Falls and up to the palace. Most of the ambassadors’ faces blurred together; he just shook their hands and welcomed them, rattling off their names when Scratchy muttered them to him.

“Nearly done,” Scratchy whispered. “Just Anvilania now.”

It wasn’t just ambassadors from Anvilania: it was also one of their Dukes, the King’s nephew. He was a tall man, a toon with red hair; he wore a gold coronet, shone to perfection. His robes were the Anvilania colours, black and red.

There was a flash of surprise on his face as he looked at the Warners. It was a look that a lot of their visitors had; a look that said, Goodness, you really are children, as if they hadn’t expected Yakko, Wakko and Dot to genuinely be so young.

“Your Majesty,” the Duke said, bowing. His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile. Yakko’s eyes narrowed. “How lovely to meet you.”

“And you,” Yakko said. They shook hands, and the servants (both Warner servants and Anvilania servants) hurried about with the Duke’s luggage. 

The Duke went inside and Yakko sighed in relief.

“That was boring,” he muttered. It was a shame too, there were so many jokes he could have cracked about their guests.

“Vell, now ve have ze party,” Scratchy reminded him, patting him on the head. “Zat vill be fun.”

Admittedly, Yakko was looking forward to all the dancing. That was always fun.

Honestly, if you asked Yakko, things were going well. He, Wakko and Dot were behaving; no jokes or antics to be seen. He made small talk with all the ambassadors and dignitaries, never letting on just how boring he found their talk of taxes. He kept a polite smile on his face, and hoped they were taking him seriously as a king.

And then he heard the Anvilanian Duke gossiping with his entourage. 

“Really, he’s a child,” the Duke said, just a little too loudly. People were starting to look. “And doesn’t he have a brain injury? I’m not sure this is much better, Scratchansniff would have been better off declaring a regency until he’s up to scratch.”

Yakko froze. Unbidden, one hand brushed against his temple, the ever-present knowledge of his missing memories pressing down on him. He saw some ambassadors glance at him warily. One hissed at the Duke to lower his voice.

Too late. Yakko heard every word.

I’ll show you who’s ‘up to scratch,’ you pompous windbag.

Keeping the polite smile on his face, he marched over.

“King Yakko,” one of the Duke’s friends said, a little shakily. “I’m dreadfully-”

“Save it,” Yakko said flatly. He looked at the Duke. “What was that? Not much better?”

The Duke finally stopped smiling, a hint of wariness in his brown eyes. “With all due respect-”

“Well if we’re talking about all due respect, you should keep your big mouth shut,” Yakko snapped. Scandalised gasps rang out. Scratchy was hurrying over, Wakko and Dot at his heels. No doubt, Scratchy would try to smooth it all over, to say the Duke didn’t mean it.

Forget that.

“You wanna talk big?” Yakko got right up in his face. He had to stand on his toes, but so what? “I took down Salazar. I survived him trying to kill me more than once, I looked after myself and did a damn good job of it for five years. So yeah, this brain injured child is better than that heartless murdering tyrant could even hope to be, or did you seriously mean to compare me to the guy who killed my parents?”

“My lord, you should apologise,” an ambassador said to the Duke. “That was highly uncalled for.”

“I did not mean to compare you,” the Duke said. He took a step back; Yakko followed.

“So you meant the rest?” Yakko demanded.

“No!” The Duke shook his head. “No, I-”

“Vhat is going on?” Scratchy demanded.

“The Duke was about to apologise for disrespecting me,” Yakko said, giving Scratchy his sweetest smile.

Silence reigned.

Finally, the Duke sighed and lowered his head. “I apologise, Your Majesty.”

“Apology accepted,” Yakko said, voice dripping with false sweetness. “How very...Mature of you.” He took his siblings by the hand and swept away.

“What did he do?” Dot demanded. “What did he say?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Yakko said, a smirk crossing his face. “We’ve got a new special friend, sibs.”

That night, the Anvilanian Duke was found running down the halls in his bathrobe and underwear; his hair was shaped into uneven spikes by copious amounts of shaving cream, his eyebrows were gone and a mouse-trap was stuck to his hand; his rear was on fire, and he was screaming bloody murder about “little monsters.”  

And yet, curiously, it seemed he didn’t get a good look at his attackers. At any rate, the Duke refused to name them.

“Oh, what a shame,” Yakko drawled, while Wakko and Dot snickered. Pinky high-fived him, while Brain smiled and looked the other way. Maintaining perfect eye-contact with Scratchy, Yakko kicked a pot of shaving cream under his bed. “Poor guy must have annoyed the wrong people.”

Chapter Text

“Look at you go, I just adore you, I wish that I knew what makes you think I'm so special. If I could begin to do something that does right by you, I would do about anything; I would even learn how to love.” - Steven Universe

Six years ago…

Brain didn’t have many interactions with the Warners personally. He wasn’t one of their personal attendants, or a member of the council. The most interaction he had with them was when he and Pinky were first brought to the palace; Angelina and William had hovered over all the rescued experiments, asking for their names and helping them find homes.

Sometimes, he’d pass them in the hall and they’d say, “Good day, Brain.” It was always a surprise to realise they remembered his name.

As for the children, he’d never interacted with them. There was no cause. At most, he’d dart out of the way when they sprinted down the halls, making mischief. Sometimes, he’d catch their eye and they’d wave, he’d bow, and they’d all be on their way.

Such as right now.

He and Pinky were enjoying their lunch outside, by the wall, sitting in the sunshine. A parade was scheduled, and Brain watched as the others rushed around getting everything ready. A group of ladies were tying ribbons to the carriage, the horses were in perfect condition.

The Warner family approached. Yakko, Wakko and Dot were chasing each other, while Angelina and William laughed at their antics; even the hyperactive children slowed down when they reached the carriage. William bent down to straighten Wakko’s shoulders; Angelina adjusted Dot’s ribbon and smoothed down Yakko’s fur- though the tuft on top of his head immediately poked back up.

They were helped into the carriage. Dot sat on her mother’s lap.

The children were trouble-makers, no doubt about it; it kept palace life interesting, Brain would give them that.

Yakko, only eight, sat straight as his father, chin tilted up. All the same, he still fidgeted impatiently; he peered across the garden, spotted Pinky and Brain and waved with a smile.

With the ghost of a smile, Brain raised his hand in a brief wave and inclined his head in respect. Pinky waved enthusiastically with both hands.

The parade began. The carriage pulled away and, with the sun in Brain’s eyes, they were gone.

Years later, it seemed that Brain did nothing but interact with the Warners. He was a trusted member of Yakko’s council, trusted as much as Scratchansniff (perhaps even more so, a strange thought). He was Yakko’s...friend.

Sometimes that felt like too flippant a word.

It was meant to be a con. All of it, from start to finish, was meant to be a con; a safe ticket out of Acme Falls and away from Salazar’s reign of terror. It was going to be the greatest con in history. He and Pinky were going to be rich and live like kings, safe and sound for the rest of their days, never to go hungry again.

Instead, they’d been presented with a stubborn, brave, clever and kind child. A child that made Brain smile, that made Pinky light up simply by walking into the room. 

A boy named Elo had walked in and brought the light with him. 

Brain had been determined not to feel guilty; as he’d said, it got them all to Burbank, so what was the real harm?

Only it turned out that Elo, that stubborn memoryless boy, was the missing prince after all.

Brain had been relieved. After all, he’d ushered the Warners out that night and, hours later, had heard Yakko was gone. He hadn’t done it for monetary gain, or a reward.

In that moment, as their lives collapsed around them, Brain had simply wanted to help.

Brain was not accustomed to caring about anyone but Pinky.

It was not unwelcome.

“It’s okay,” Pinky whispered. “We’re here.”

Elo didn’t answer. He stared up at the top bunk with dim, glassy eyes. For a moment, Brain hesitated; surely it would be best to leave the child to Pinky. His friend was good with Elo. They clicked.

But Elo was his friend too, and Brain would not leave him in this state. (And if he hated to see Elo so quiet, so sad and frightened- well, so what? It was natural, no?)

So Brain lay down next to Elo, keeping an eye on the boy.

He only allowed himself to close his eyes when he was sure that Elo was asleep again.

“We look like a team!” Pinky cheered, prancing about in his new jacket.

The idea clearly pleased Elo: he sat up straighter, eyes bright, his smile growing. And Brain- well, he could admit the idea pleased him too. He hadn’t expected Elo to make them jackets. He appreciated the gesture, in his own quiet way.

Though he supposed he should acknowledge it.

He adjusted his jacket and turned to Elo.

“Thank you,” he said.

Elo grinned at him. “You too.”

Brain was not fond of Yakko’s idea. Acting as bait? It was preposterous! It was dangerous and reckless and...And…

And Yakko had a point. Salazar would blindly run after him, right into their trap.

That didn’t mean Brain had to like it. Maybe Yakko hated them, maybe he would never forgive them, but that didn’t mean Brain was going to let the child blindly run into danger.

“He won’t be alone,” Brain spoke up. He chanced a glance at Yakko, and found the boy watching him with an unreadable expression. Brain looked away, to Scratchansniff, Wakko and Dot. “Pinky and I will be with him.”

He nearly sighed in relief when Yakko nodded and said, “Exactly. I’ll have them with me.”

He had expected a vehement protest, truth be told. Perhaps they stood a chance of mending things after all.

Brain found Yakko curled up in a chair by the window, a massive book in his lap. The fire was crackling in the grate, and Yakko had a blanket thrown over his legs.

“Do you mind if I join you, child?” Brain asked.

Yakko smiled at him and held his hand out. Brain climbed on and Yakko lifted him up onto the chair. As was fast becoming a habit, Brain sat by Yakko’s feet; he pulled a corner of the blanket over his own lap.

“Did you know Fantasia first started expanding their borders four thousand years ago?” Yakko asked, not looking up from his book. A history book it seemed.

Brain couldn’t quite hold back a smile. “No,” he lied. “I didn’t know that. Tell me more?”

Brain looked at Angelina and William’s portrait, his mind in a battle against his emotions. 

They had been good people. They’d loved their children dearly. Brain would always be indebted to them.

But Brain wasn’t looking after the children because of Angelina and William. He was doing it because...Because…

Damn it all, he cared. First Yakko had wormed his way into Brain’s heart and his siblings had followed. They were part of Brain’s small group of people now. They were his and he’d be damned if they came to harm again.

Maybe it was selfish of him. They had parents, even if they were dead. And Brain was hardly their parent, but ‘friend,’ didn’t quite fit the bill anymore either.

“We will protect them,” Brain said, looking at the King and Queen’s painted faces, forever frozen in time. He frowned, his forehead creasing, his eyes narrowing. Communing with the dead, how foolish. Pinky really was wearing off on him.

He respected Angelina and William.

He (loved) cared about Yakko, Wakko and Dot.

Brain walked away from the portrait, hands clasped behind his back, mulling it all over and brooding as he did best.

Brain would never understand it, truth be told. He knew he wasn’t good at expressing emotions other than anger; he tended to clam up and avoid the topic. He knew he’d done awful things, things he was ashamed to admit out loud. 

And yet Pinky cheerfully called Brain his best friend.

Yakko sat and read with him, and cracked jokes until Brain caved in and smiled; he looked to Brain during council meetings and asked for his opinions, carefully listening. He had trusted Brain to help assemble the council in the first place. 

Wakko shared his snacks with him and cheerfully asked what Brain was up to. He dragged Brain into his antics and would run into the room and ask Brain to listen as he tried a new song on the violin.

Dot had long conversations about politics with him, as easily physically affectionate as her brothers, picking him up off the ground to tightly hug him when the mood struck her. She forced outfits on him, insisting it was “a favour.” 

Friends was too light a word.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to say Family. Not just yet.

He wondered what it was, what they saw, that made them all smile at him like that. They acted like Brain was a good person, something he didn’t agree with.

And yet...If four good people looked at him like he was something special, if four good people… loved him, maybe that meant something.

And he loved them too.

He liked to think he was getting better at saying it. At showing it.

“Brain!” Yakko called. The little king stood on his toes, waving both arms at him. “Come on, hurry up!”

“While there’s still daylight!” Dot shouted, brandishing their picnic basket.

“Hurry up, I’m hungry,” Wakko added.

Pinky, on Yakko’s shoulder, jumped up and down, shouting Brain’s name again and again.

Slowly, softly, Brain smiled. The sun in his eyes, he went to join his friends.

Chapter Text

“You're the only one of you; baby, that's the fun of you! And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me.” - Taylor Swift

Pinky was always a happy-go-lucky sort of mouse, but over the last two weeks he’d been utterly gleeful. More than once, Yakko caught him dancing in the hallways, loudly singing to himself. 

It was Pinky, so such behaviour wasn’t too unusual.

But now there was this.

As Yakko left the music room, he came upon Pinky walking down the halls. He was wearing the lavender jacket Yakko had made for him; his fur was slicked back and he smelled strongly of cologne. He was carrying a little bunch of daisies.

Yakko stopped dead, a big grin splitting his face. Hot damn, no way! he thought and zoomed over to Pinky, quickly crashing to his knees to get (somewhat) down to Pinky’s level.

“Who’s the girl?” Yakko demanded.

“Hi, Yakko!” Pinky said, beaming up at him. 

“Well?” Yakko poked at him. “You’ve got a date, right?”

Pinky nodded, ears flapping. “Oh, Yakko, she’s wonderful,” he sighed. Little love-hearts popped up around his head, floating up towards the ceiling. “She’s so sweet and funny, and- she’s just perfect.”

“Wow, you really like her, huh?” Yakko asked. 

Pinky nodded again, holding the daisies to his chest. “I think you’ll like her,” he said. “I’ve told her all about you guys.” He smiled bashfully. “She’s shy, but I think she’ll be ready to meet you all soon!”

“That’s great,” Yakko said, smiling at him. He stood, dusting down his slacks. “Well, tell her I said hi.”

“I will!”

As Pinky walked away, Yakko called after him; “Hey, what’s her name?”

Pinky paused to smile at Yakko over his shoulder. “Pharfignewton.”

“Do we know a Pharfignewton?” Yakko asked, marching into the dining room for lunch. Brain was the only one there, going over a pile of notes and letters.

“Hm? I certainly don’t,” Brain said. “May I ask why?”

“Pinky’s got a date,” Yakko said, waggling his eyebrows. He flopped into his seat next to Brain. “And I don’t know anyone named Pharfignewton.”

“Nor do I.” Brain set the pile aside, frowning. “Hm. He didn’t mention anything.”

“Pretty sure he only told me ‘cause I caught him all dressed up.”

“At any rate, the name does not ring any bells,” Brain said. He looked rather put out.

Wakko arrived, already eating a sandwich. He sat next to Yakko, swallowed the remainder of his sandwich whole and immediately reached for the nearest plate of sandwiches.

“Wak, d’you know anyone named Pharfignewton?” Yakko asked.

“Nope,” Wakko said, popping the P. 

“Yeah, thought so.” Yakko slouched in his seat, foot tapping impatiently. 

“Who’s Phar-whatsit?” Wakko asked, mouth full.

“Dunno,” Yakko said. “But Pinky’s got a date with her.”

“Pinky’s got a date!?” Dot cried from the doorway. She rushed over, eyes bright. “With who?”

“Someone called Pharfignewton,” Yakko said. 

Dot shook her head. “Weird name,” she said.

Yakko’s curiosity was caught. All of them were curious.

“We have lists of the staff, right?” Yakko asked. “If she works here we can just look her up.”

“She may not work in the palace,” Brain pointed out.

“Yeah, I know, but at least it’s a start.”

That evening, in their shared room, Brain tried to think of something to say. Romance did not interest him in the least, but Pinky was his friend. His best friend. Therefore, Brain ought to ask, to show an interest.

And he was happy for Pinky.

Pinky indeed looked thrilled as he prepared for bed, spinning in circles with a dreamy look in his eyes.

“Ahem- Pinky?”

“Yeah, Brain?”

“I understand you had a date,” Brain said.

Pinky’s gasp was rather overdramatic, his hands pressed to his cheeks. “Oh, who told you?”

“Yakko did.”

“Oh, right!” Pinky laughed. “We bumped into each other earlier.”

“And you are...Happy?”

“Very happy, Brain!”

Brain nodded, settling on his bed. He glanced at his friend and the utter joy in Pinky’s eyes was obvious. “Perhaps you could tell me about her?” Brain ventured. “Pharfignewton is her name, correct?”

“She’s wonderful,” Pinky said with a love-stricken sigh. Love-hearts popped up around his head and in his eyes. He flopped onto his back, tucking his duvet up to his chin. “We met in the stables, and she’s got the prettiest eyes, Brain! She’s really sweet and clever, but kind of shy.” He smiled at Brain and added, “Like I told Yakko, I’ve told her all about you guys! I think she’ll be ready to meet you soon.”

A smile tugged at Brain’s lips. “Well, I’m happy for you, old friend.”

“Narf! Thanks, Brain.”

“They met in the stables?” Yakko repeated. He and Brain were on their way to a council meeting, and Brain was sitting on Yakko’s shoulder as usual. 

“Indeed,” Brain said. “It seems they’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now.”

“Hm…” Yakko frowned, mentally running through the list of stable hands; he and his sibs and practically memorised the list of staff members last night. “Nah, I don’t think there’s any stable hands named Pharfignewton.”

“As I said, she may not work here. It’s possible she was visiting. Perhaps a relative or friend of a stable hand.”

“Guess so,” Yakko said, pushing his crown up when it slipped down his brow. It immediately slipped again; Brain sighed and straightened it.

“He seems really happy though,” Yakko said cheerily. 

“He does,” Brain agreed. “I’m sure it will be interesting to meet her.”

Famous last words.

It was only a few days later when Pinky announced that “his sweetheart,” was ready to meet them all. He was positively vibrating with giddy energy as he made the announcement.

Brain was curious to meet this mysterious woman at last.

Pinky led the way, cheerfully talking away about Pharfignewton and how he “just knew” they’d all love her. Brain had to admit, he was unaccustomed to these events; was he supposed to bring some sort of gift? He doubted it, but he still felt strangely empty-handed as he followed in Pinky’s wake.

Goodness, his friend really had a girlfriend. He wondered if the thought would ever stop feeling strange.

Still, Pinky deserved to be happy and he was...leading them to the stables? Did Pharfignewton work here after all?

“Honey!” Pinky called as they entered. “I’m here! I brought everyone!”

Brain couldn’t see anyone, bar the horses, nor did anyone answer Pinky’s enthusiast greeting.

Pinky led them right towards the back. A toon-horse stood in the very last stall; she was big and white, with blue eyes and buck teeth, rather like Pinky’s. Unlike most horse-toons that Brain met, she only neighed at their approach, rather than speaking.

Wait, Brain thought. Pinky’s words echoed in his mind; “We met in the stables.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Brain groaned, rubbing his forehead.

Sure enough…

“Everyone, this is Pharfignewton!” Pinky declared. He beamed up at the horse; with a rather smitten smile of her own, the horse leaned down to Pinky, and he hugged her nose.

“...Say what?” Yakko asked. Wakko’s tongue poked out, his shoulder slumped, and Brain swore he saw the child’s brain short-circuit from confusion. Dot merely stared with a strained look on her face.

“Pharfignewton,” Pinky said. “This is my best friend, Brain! I told you all about him, remember?” He flung an arm around Brain’s shoulder, squeezing him. Pharfignewton nodded at them, whinnying. 

Brain looked at her lidded, dim blue eyes and buck teeth. He looked at Pinky’s dim blue eyes and buck teeth.

He sighed in resignation. 

“Heavens, they’re multiplying,” he muttered. He could already feel a headache building.

Pinky quickly climbed up Yakko and settled on the child’s head. “This is my Yakko!” he said happily, and jumped down to Wakko’s head. “And my Wakko!” One last jump and he was on Dot. “And my Dot!”

Pharfignewton smiled.

With that strained look still on her face, Dot waved.

Wakko crept closer, eyeing Pharfignewton curiously. “Hi, I’m Wakko,” he said. The horse nodded. 

Yakko leaned down and picked Brain up. “I expected another mouse,” he admitted in a whisper.

“As did I, child.”

Yakko caught Pharfignewton’s eye and smiled; the horse’s eyes brightened and she nudged at his shoulder with her nose.

“Ooh, she likes you!” Pinky said happily, clasping his hands together.

Brain supposed expecting anything logical from Pinky was too much; really, he’d set his own standards too high, it was his own fault.

Still…

“Pinky, she is a horse,” he pointed out.

“I know, isn’t she pretty?” Pinky cooed, petting Pharfignewton’s nose. Brain could have sworn the horse blushed.

Brain resigned himself. This was easily the strangest thing Pinky had ever done (and Pinky had once declared that, if he was not married by the age of forty, he would marry a wheel of cheese), but he supposed it was at least harmless. Utterly baffling, completely lacking in sense and downright stupid, but harmless.

And Pinky was still smiling that love-struck smile. There was that.

Dot was cautiously petting Pharfignewton’s mane. Wakko looked at her like he expected her to sudden perform amazing tricks.

“Does she talk?” Yakko asked.

“No,” Pinky said. He hugged her nose again and said, “But we understand each other.”

Yakko eyed the horse and shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy, Pinky.”

That night, the three Warners gathered in Dot’s room.

“We all agree that was weird, right?” Dot asked. “Even for Pinky.”

“I like her,” Wakko said. Dot threw a bunched up sweet-wrapped at him; Wakko caught it and licked the last of the caramel off it.

“I had a whole shovel-talk prepared,” Yakko sighed mournfully. Always dramatic, he threw himself onto his back, flinging an arm over his eye. “A whole shovel-talk wasted! I can’t give her a shovel-talk, she’s a horse!”

“Shouldn’t the adults be the one giving those talks?” Dot asked. “Not the other way around?”

“She likes Pinky though,” Wakko said. “That’s good.”

Yakko thought about it. “They do really seem to like each other,” he said. It hadn’t just been Pinky fawning over Pharfignewton, she’d clearly adored their little friend too.

“It’s still weird,” Dot said firmly. After a moment, she sighed and said, “At least they’re happy?”

“There’s that,” Yakko said. “That’s the important thing.” He grabbed another caramel and unwrapped it. “Still sore I couldn’t give my shovel-talk.”

“My heart bleeds for you, Yak,” Dot drawled.

Well, if Yakko could get used to being lost royalty, he could get used to this- even if it was pretty bizarre.

Chapter Text

“Maybe I'll crash into you, maybe we’ll open these wounds. We're only alive if we bruise, so I lay down this armor.” - Landon Austin

The day started out simply. It was a bright, sunny day and, as the afternoon wore on, the Warners went horse-riding. Brain sat on the fence, reading. A pair of maids stood by, watching the children as they raced around the yard; Rita and Runt lounged in the sunshine.

In the stables, Pinky visited Pharfignewton, which was when things started to go wrong.

After all, mice attract cats.

Pinky strode up to Pharfignewton, beaming at her. He could feel little hearts pop up above his head. Pharfignewton smiled when she spotted him, her eyes brightening.

But the closer he got, the more her eyes widened. She snuffled and snorted, and jerked her head frantically, looking at something over his shoulder.

Still smiling, Pinky turned around.

He came face to face with a cat, staring at him with bright green eyes and licking its lips. This wasn’t a toon-cat like Rita, this was a normal cat.

A cat that looked at Pinky like he was lunch.

“Zoit!” Pinky cried, and he ran for it.

His toon powers came in handy; he could run faster than regular mice and jump over anything in his way. A stable-hand nearly tripped over him, giving a startled shout, but once the stable-hand realised what was going on he ran after them, trying to catch the cat.

Pinky ran right back outside and towards his friends. He could see the kids on their horses, laughing together. He could see Runt napping and Rita lounging on her back; Brain was sitting on the fence and Pinky aimed for the maids. He could jump onto them and they’d scare away the cat.

He didn’t pause to think about it; he just ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

The kids spotted him.

“Pinky, look out!” Dot cried.

The cat was getting closer. The maids noticed and began to hurry over; Runt woke up and his ears perked up.

“Cat!” he cried. “Cat, cat, cat!” He began to run towards Pinky, tail wagging. Yakko pulled his horse to a halt; he was just starting to climb down when Pinky and the cat ran right in front of his horse.

Yakko’s horse reared up on its hind legs; Yakko was flung backwards with a yelp. He flew off the horse’s back from the force of it, losing his grip…

And fell to the ground, landing right on his head.

Pinky stopped dead, heedless of the cat now. His world narrowed down to the sight in front of him: Yakko, his Yakko, lying on the ground, gasping for breath.

“Yakko!” he shouted, as Dot began to scream. Wakko leaped off his horse and ran to his brother. The stable-hand finally caught the cat, but Pinky hardly noticed anyone else but Yakko.

His head, Pinky thought, heart pounding. Oh no, no, his head!

Not again.

But Yakko was already sitting up and groaning, rubbing his head. That was good, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been knocked out this time.

Pinky hoped that was good. Everyone was screaming, but Pinky felt like his voice was gone. He stood by Yakko’s foot, trying to get enough air to talk.

All the while, Dot was screaming; screaming Yakko’s name and barking orders at everyone.

Yakko groaned as he sat up, one hand pressed against his forehead. He felt shaky, but he was pretty sure that was mostly from the shock of the fall. He was dizzy and sore, but nothing he couldn’t handle. The longer he stayed still the more his head cleared up. He was fine.

Or so he thought. Everyone was screaming and shouting, and the louder and more frantic they got, the more Yakko started to panic. Had he really fallen that hard? He wasn’t bleeding, but…

“Yakko?” Wakko shook him, voice frantic. “Yakko, it’s me, it’s Wakko, do you know me?”

Yakko nodded, though it just hurt his head more. “‘Course I do,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. Runt was repeating “Oh no, not good, not good,” over and over, which seriously wasn’t helping.

Dot screamed at the waiting maids to, “GET NURSE, NOW! ” at the top of her lungs. The frightened maids sprinted away.

Pinky jumped onto him, placing his hands on Yakko’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Yakko!” he said, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to! You know who we all are, right?”

And Yakko, without meaning to, without thinking, mumbled, “Dad?”

Pinky froze, eyes wide. Dot clapped her hands over her mouth; Wakko whined, ears drooping. Rita hovered anxiously and even Runt’s ears and tail drooped.

Brain, as always, took charge.

“For heaven’s sake, back up and give him some air, you’re all overwhelming him,” he said. Rita and Runt backed up a few steps, but that was it. Yakko could feel himself going red, staring firmly at the ground. His head swam and he tried to keep still.

“Can you tell me what date it is?” Brain asked him. Yakko told him. 

“Your full name?”

Yakko swallowed and said, “Yakko Warner.”

“And our names?” Brain asked.

“Wakko, Dot, Pinky and Brain, Rita and Runt.” His voice was quieter than he would have liked.

“And where are we?”

“The palace,” Yakko said. He briefly closed his eyes and the pain in his head lessened. “The gardens, by the stables if you wanna be exact.”

Brain nodded, satisfied. “Then I think it’s safe to say you don’t have amnesia again,” he said. He sounded so casual, but Yakko knew him well enough to see the concern in his eyes. “How are you?”

“My head hurts,” Yakko said. “But I did hit it, so I guess that’s obvious.”

“That you did,” Brain agreed.

“Follow my finger,” Dot demanded; she got right in his face, nearly pushing him back as she slowly moved her finger from left to right. Yakko followed it with his eyes and she sighed in relief, giving him a tiny smile.

Wakko shuffled closer and closer until Yakko wrapped an arm around him. He could see Nurse running across the garden towards them, with Scratchy by her side and her assistant just behind them.

“But then why’d you…?” Pinky trailed off, wringing his hands. Brain elbowed him and, slowly, Pinky started to smile; his eyes looked wet. Yakko shrugged; he was pretty sure you could fry an egg on his cheeks by this point, they felt boiling.

“Well,” he muttered and shrugged, smiling a little despite himself, unable to help it. “Y’know…” He shrugged again, rubbing a hand up and down Wakko’s back as his brother clung to him.

“Oh,” Pinky said. “That’s okay then, narf!” Just like that he was back to normal, smiling and watching them fondly. Yakko would be one of the first to admit that Pinky wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed...But he seemed to know what Yakko wanted to say.

“Love you, narf!” Pinky said happily.

“Love you too,” Yakko said as Nurse crashed to her knees next to them, first aid kit in hand.

“He knows where and when he is,” Brain said quickly. Scratchy had a hand over his heart, tension radiating from him. Nurse only nodded in acknowledgement and got to work.

“So,” Dot said as they made their way to Yakko’s room, arms linked. “What you called Pinky…”

“Let’s not,” Yakko said quickly. “I just- hit my head, so-”

“It’s sweet,” Dot said quietly, with a little smile. 

“He acts like Dad sometimes,” Wakko said. He kept reaching up to touch Yakko’s head as they walked, checking for any lumps and bruises that Nurse had already sworn weren’t there.

“Well...More insane,” Dot said.

“Absolutely loony,” Yakko said fondly.

“Like us!” Wakko said, grinning.

“It just slipped out,” Yakko admitted. “Dad’s Dad, but Pinky’s…” Pinky had looked after him from the start, taking a shine to him on sight and immediately taking Yakko under his wing. He fussed over all three of them like- well, like a tiny parent.

(“Oh can we keep him, Brain? Can we?”)

“He’s Pinky,” Yakko said. 

He was Pinky, their Pinky, who walked into Yakko’s room later with a tiny bunch of daisies and a handmade ‘Sorry’ card. Brain, looking quite grumpy, held a bright pink balloon in one fist.

“Pinky’s idea,” he sighed, gesturing to the balloon. Dot was immediately all over it.

Pinky sat next to Wakko and smiled up at Yakko.

“Are you okay, Yakko?” he asked.

Sure, his head still hurt, but Yakko was sitting quite comfortably on his bed, a plate of cookies on his lap, and his siblings and Pinky and Brain all around him.

“I’m good,” Yakko promised. Grinning, he split a cookie in half and handed some to Pinky and Brain. “I’m great.”

Chapter Text

“Light up, light up, as if you have a choice. Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you, dear.” - Snow Patrol

Three years ago…

Her name was Daisy, and she was a year old. She spent most of the day and night crying, sobbing for her parents. If she wasn’t crying, she was worryingly silent.

Elo didn’t know what had happened to her parents, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Whatever it was, it was enough to have even the head matron look worried when Daisy was dropped off.

When she was dropped off by the guards.

Yeah. Definitely nothing good.

It was the middle of the night, and Elo could hear Daisy sobbing through the thin walls. They’d left her in a room on her own.

“She’s disturbing the other babies,” one of the matrons had said.

It made Elo’s blood boil. It wasn’t right.

He got to his feet and wrapped his blanket around him like a shawl. He tip-toed down the length of the dorm, practically holding his breath. If his stupid powers were up to snuff, he could probably just teleport, or jump in and out of the shadows. Instead, he had to sneak the normal way.

If he was caught out of bed, they’d lock him in the attic. Some of the kids were snitches, eager to get others in trouble if it meant less trouble for them, but they all seemed to be sleeping.

The door creaked when he opened it. He froze, waiting.

No one moved.

He slipped into the corridor. All was dark and silent. Sighing in relief, Elo went to Daisy’s room. 

It was a tiny room, with only Daisy’s crib in it. She was pressed against the corner of the crib, clutching her blanket and sobbing.

“Daisy?”

Once he said her name, she froze. She looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, her tears still falling.

Elo couldn’t stand it. She was only a baby, she was only a year old. She shouldn’t be shoved in a room all by herself.

She shouldn’t be alone.

He stood as tall as he could (which wasn’t much) and went to her. She flinched back, and he did his best to smile for her.

“It’s okay,” Elo whispered. “It’s just me. Um, I’m Elo, remember? I don’t think I’ve said hi yet.”

“Hi,” Daisy echoed in a whisper.

“Wanna cuddle?” Elo asked her. “It won’t be so cold, but we gotta be quiet, okay?”

She stared at him with big blue eyes. She sniffled and nodded, holding her tiny arms out. Elo lifted her up, wrapping her blanket around her properly and sat against the wall with her in his lap.

He held her close, humming the tune that echoed in his dreams. Her breathing still hitched awkwardly from all the crying, but she seemed much calmer now.

“Elo,” Daisy murmured.

“Yeah?”

“Elo,” she repeated. She gave him a tiny smile. “Elo!”

“What?” he asked, smiling. “Ya just like my name?”

She nodded and flopped against him again.

“Well, I like yours too.”

Soon enough, she was asleep.

Elo knew he should probably put her back in her crib and go back to his dorm. The floor wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep (though that wasn’t new), and if he was caught he’d be in for a world of trouble.

But he stayed where he was and, eventually, he nodded off too, Daisy still safe in his arms.

Yakko had never known what became of Daisy’s parents, he just knew it was nothing good. Whatever it was, Daisy had clearly been traumatised. The guards themselves had dropped her off at the orphanage, unceremoniously dumping her in the matron’s arms. He hadn’t heard what they said to the matron, but he remembered how wary the staff had been for the next two weeks; if any of the matrons or nurses picked up Daisy, they held her like a bomb about to explode. Otherwise, they did their best to ignore her.

His first thought was that they had to be criminals of some sort. Arrested and, no doubt, executed. It was a morbid thought, but Yakko had met plenty of kids whose parents had been killed one way or another. Some kids shared their dark histories like it was a competition. Some talked because it helped. Others kept quiet, afraid of everyone else’s reactions; some were just too traumatised to say it.

And then there were kids like Daisy, who’d been terrified at the time, but were simply too young to remember for long. He knew Daisy didn’t remember her parents anymore, not their names or faces; nothing.

In a way, he’d been right. They’d been criminals.

Of a sort.

They were criminals to Salazar.

There were a lot of documents and papers to sort through, left behind by Salazar’s reign of terror. Lists of people wrongfully executed or imprisoned; people who simply disappeared. A few who were exiled, which turned out to be the luckier option.

Even Brain was exhausted by it all, but he persevered- until he came across two photos. Mugshots. A man and a woman, toons. Rabbit-toons. The photos were black and white, but Brain instantly saw their resemblance to Yakko’s little friend, Ralph’s new daughter.

The woman had Daisy’s big round eyes and cheeks. The man had white fur and coloured-tips on his ears, and Brain was willing to bet they were yellow like Daisy’s.

They each held a placard with their names: Alice Lapin. Robert Lapin.

Brain sighed as he read the names. Lapin. That confirmed it; it was Daisy’s former surname.

Their files told of their crimes: rebels, quite high up in the chain of command, working to take Salazar down. They smuggled former nobility out of Warnerstock and passed messages along to rebels in other cities. They smuggled goods in and out of the country; they quietly searched for Yakko to no avail; they fought in the rare riots in the town square, and they stole from Salazar’s men. Robert was suspected of having killed guards; they’d both confessed to helping prisoners escape.

They’d been handed in by another captured rebel who’d been “thoroughly questioned” along with four others. They’d been executed by firing squad. Their child, a year-old infant, had been placed in “a local orphanage.” The files ended there, nothing more to be said. No mention of where they’d been buried, and it made Brain’s blood boil unexpectedly.

Thoroughly questioned, Brain thought with a sneer. Is that meant to make things more palatable? Just say torture and face up to it. 

Salazar’s men were cowards, Brain thought firmly. The whole lot of them.

He gathered up the Lapins’ files and left the archives, in search of his friends.

“I remember them, man,” the Captain sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t in charge yet, but I caught up with them first; I let ‘em go, but the old Captain…” He trailed off, but they all knew what he was going to say.

The Captain, in his usual fashion, was going to let them slip away. His old commander however, never had any sympathy for the people of Warnerstock; he’d been Salazar’s man through and through. 

Alice and Robert Lapin had been caught in the end.

“I used to wonder what happened to that baby,” the Captain said. He glanced at Ralph. “It’s good you have her, man.”

“Poor Daisy,” Ralph said quietly. He looked at Alice and Robert’s photos, biting his lip. Mugshots weren’t exactly the type of photo to bring to your young daughter, and yet did any other photos of them survive?

She was still too young for all this, but maybe one day…

Yakko twisted his pendant around his hands. Brain hadn’t let him look at the files, and that in itself told Yakko how bad it must be. How detailed were they? he wondered. How gruesome did it get?

Maybe he was better off not knowing for now too. It nagged at him, but Yakko wasn’t stupid. There were some things even he shouldn’t look at yet.

“Daisy was with them?” he asked the Captain.

The Captain nodded, eyes dim, expression solemn. “They tore her outta her mom’s arms,” he admitted. “And took her away. The Lapins were dragged straight to prison.”

And executed only days later.

It made Yakko sick.

They hadn’t just fought for the Warners’ sake, Yakko knew that too; they’d fought for Daisy, to give her a brighter future. To give everyone a better life.

Daisy did have a bright future. Ralph and his wife would look after her and spoil her rotten; they’d keep her safe and loved. Ralph Jr would be there to protect her and guide her. 

Yakko knew all this. But the gruesome truth was hard to ignore.

Sighing heavily, he handed the photos to Ralph.

“Keep them safe,” he said. “Keep her safe.”

Ralph wasn’t often a serious sort of person, but now he bowed and tucked the photos safely away in his pocket.

“Yes, King Yakko,” Ralph said.

Yakko’s music box was playing. Brain sat by his side.

“How d’you think she’ll take it?” Yakko asked, watching the miniature figures of his parents spin with the music.

“That is a problem for the future, Yakko,” Brain said firmly. “There’s no sense in tangling yourself in knots over it. Daisy is a bright and strong child.” With a small smile he added, “Something you have in common. Some stories don’t have happy endings, you know that...But in the end, your friend got her happy ending too. I’m sure she’ll understand that as well.”

The music stopped and Yakko started it up again. He leaned against the window, looking out at the sunshine, smiling as he watched some gardeners plant the last of the rose bushes. 

“They did a lot, didn’t they?” he asked.

“They did,” Brain said. 

“I want them included on the memorial monument,” Yakko said, fidgeting with his pendant.

Brain nodded. “Of course, child. We’ll make sure it’s done.”

They lapsed into silence as the music played on.

One day, Daisy would know everything, but not now. She was far too young for it all; Ralph had said he and his wife would talk about what to tell her for now. But one day she’d know, and in the meantime Yakko would make sure that Alice, Robert and the others who fought Salazar and fell would be remembered.

The memorial was coming up. If there was one thing Yakko was good at, it was talking: he had a long speech to prepare.

But for now he let their family’s lullaby play and sat with Brain, turning towards the sunshine.

Chapter Text

“But if you close your eyes does it almost feel like nothing changed at all? And, if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you've been here before?” - Bastille

Scratchy doubted the guilt would ever truly leave. Especially in the beginning, when he watched Yakko go blank at the mention of something he couldn’t remember, or when Wakko and Dot followed their brother like miniature bodyguards. Or when any of them had nightmares.

But as the weeks and months passed, as spring wore on, things got better.

The palace was a home again. All of Salazar’s statues and portraits were destroyed, or returned to Ticktockia. The orphanage was vastly improved, safe and warm at last. Their economy was improving; the people of Warnerstock no longer lived in fear.

The long winter had passed, it was spring at last and soon it would be summer.

They visited the summer palace by the beach; looking around, Scratchy could see it would be ready in time. They’d removed Salazar’s insignia from the royal ship and repainted it with the Warner symbol. The servants just needed to remove the last of Salazar’s belongings, and all would be as it was.

Scratchy walked behind his godchildren, smiling at the view of the beach. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend nothing had changed. The Warner siblings raced ahead, laughing; he could hear the gentle waves through the open windows and smell sea-salt on the air. In many ways, it was the same.

He opened his eyes and was faced with reality. Angelina and William were long gone. Yakko, Wakko and Dot weren’t tiny, innocent children anymore; they were still children, but in many ways they were all grown up. They had fought their parents’ killer and won. Yakko was King. 

They were still zany, chaotic little things, but then they had moments of odd maturity: they helped their people every day, they planned the memorial, they helped each other through flashbacks and nightmares, always by each others’ sides.

There was no use in pretending. Things were very different indeed.

But, as they all worked together, things got better and better all the time.

The shadows slowly left Wakko and Dot’s eyes; they stopped panicking if Yakko left the room. They let themselves smile and have fun, guilt free. Yakko’s confidence was back full-force and, with it, his curiosity. He was back to talking the ear off anyone who would listen- and those who wouldn’t too. 

They were simply themselves, driving Scratchy mad at every turn with their jokes, pranks and tricks. They glued googly-eyes to his toupée; they hid in the cabinets or giant cooking pots to scare the chefs. They sneaked away from their guards and swung from chandeliers. 

The Warners were not the proper little royals that they were expected to be, and Scratchy wouldn’t have them any other way.

After five years of fear, five years of worry and heartache, they were a family again.

They took the ship for a test-run. Scratchy sat in a comfortable deckchair by the railing, reading but always keeping one eye on the Warners. He didn’t trust them not to go toppling over the railing, or indeed not to jump into the ocean on purpose.

They were doing better. Much better.

And so was Scratchy.

He no longer lay awake, constantly thinking of the moment Yakko’s hand was pulled from his. Dot’s petrified scream no longer echoed in his ears, nor did Wakko’s anguished sobs. Slowly, oh so slowly, he allowed himself to stop brooding over Angelina and William’s ends.

(He would always mourn them, he would never forget them; he would always miss his dearest friends, but he could start to acknowledge their deaths had not been his fault.)

His heart no longer sank when he looked at Yakko and saw a (hurt, lonely) teenager instead of the small happy child he’d known. He could admit that, in some ways, on some level, he’d expected a child to be returned to them; not a teenager. It felt like he’d blinked and suddenly Yakko was all grown up. Different in many ways, but still a mischievous trouble-maker at his core.

He no longer panicked when Dot and Wakko wandered off. Oh, he still ranted and raved when they gave their guards the slip, but there was no fear of Salazar’s agents snatching them away. Salazar was gone and his men with him. Ticktockia was, bizarrely, no longer an enemy.

Scratchy, quite simply, stopped seeing enemies around every corner and in every shadow.

There would always be a part of him that feared losing them. There would always be that lingering guilt. Scratchy would, every now and then, panic when he couldn’t find them. He was overprotective and they teased him for it, but they seemed to understand it too. At least, they never truly gave him a hard time over it.

“Scratchy!” Dot called. She and her brothers stood on the railing toward the front of the ship. Wakko leaned forward, watching the water. “Look!” Dot continued. “There’s dolphins!”

Smiling, Scratchy saw them. As Dot said, there were dolphins jumping ahead of their ship. There was a brisk breeze, especially out on the water, but the sun was shining and the water was a brilliant blue, not a cloud in the sky.

It reminded him of similar trips from years ago, he couldn’t help it. He almost thought that, if he turned around, he’d find Angelina and William behind them.

He didn’t turn around. He stayed facing forward, and wrapped his arms around his godchildren, holding them close.

Yakko rolled his eyes and lightly shoved at him, but none of them pulled away. 

“It’s a lovely day, kidses,” Scratchy said softly.

He expected teasing; he expected jokes at his expense. Instead, they glanced at each other and smiled.

“Yeah, Scratchy,” Yakko said. “It is.” Wakko’s tail wagged as he nodded in agreement and Dot basked in the sunshine, turning towards it like a cat.

It was a good day. They’d had lots of good days.

The good days were starting to outweigh the bad, and Scratchy let himself smile.

Chapter Text

“You've got it all, you lost your mind in the sound. There's so much more, you can reclaim your crown. You're in control, rid of the monsters inside your head. Put all your faults to bed. You can be King again.” - Lauren Aquilina

Dot was doing better and she knew it. Thinking about the memorial still made her stomach tense up, but Wakko had been right; talking about it helped.

She went to Scratchy and told him how she was feeling, she told Nurse and they got her an appointment with a proper psychiatrist, one who wouldn’t be as biased as Scratchy (because he was biased as their godfather and he’d freely admit it).

The psychiatrist was a toon-woman named Lily with blonde hair a little like Nurse’s but much longer. She was older than Nurse too, somewhere in her fifties if Dot had to guess. She was nice; it took Dot ages to warm up to her, admittedly, but that was mostly because Dot wasn’t sure about talking about her real feelings with someone she didn’t know.

But it helped. Lily won her trust.

(Dot still liked messing with her, but to do Lily credit she took it in stride.)

“Talk with your brothers,” Lily told her, which Dot thought was outright stupid at first. She did talk to them, she talked to them every day, she worried about them every day...Which she supposed was part of the problem in the end. She worried too much.

They all did.

They talked, they talked every day, but there were still plenty of things they didn’t talk about. Some things they just weren’t ready to talk about; but there were things they should talk about and Dot knew there were topics she avoided because she didn’t want Wakko or Yakko to feel guilty.

And if she knew them at all, they were thinking along the same lines as her.

Avoiding things had never been the Warners’ style.

So one day, Dot grabbed Yakko and Wakko and dragged them to her room, shoving them towards the settee.

She took a deep breath. “We need to talk,” Dot said. “Really talk. About...About everything. No lies, no jokes, no avoiding it and no half-truths. Just talking.” Dot paused and added, “When we’re all ready, obviously. I’m not gonna make you.”

Wakko looked surprised, but Dot thought he looked pleased too. Yakko regarded her curiously, tilting his head.

“Okay,” Yakko said. “What’cha wanna talk about sister-sib?”

“Mom and Dad,” Dot admitted. “And the invasion; the trip to Burbank afterwards.” Those had been the two longest days of her life, freshly traumatised, stuck on a train and then a boat with her equally traumatised brother. Wailing for her parents. Screaming for Yakko.

They never really talked about that part.

She looked warily at Wakko, but he didn’t leave, he didn’t say no. Instead, he and Yakko made room for her and she sat in between them.

You are Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca, she reminded herself firmly. And you can do anything.

It was Yakko and Wakko, and she could always be honest with them. At the end of the day, nothing made Dot feel safe quite like they did.

Dot looked at them both, momentarily basking in the fact that they were there, and not leaving. No one was going to get lost again.

“I don’t always remember them,” she admitted. She wasn’t sure she’d ever said so out loud. “Their voices, or...Or sometimes their faces are blurry. It’s easier when there’s a photo nearby.”

They watched her patiently, listening, listening, listening. Like they always did.

It was okay, with Yakko and Wakko. Dot didn’t have to be the cute one, or the witty one; she could let her guard down with her brothers. She could bear her heart and soul and know beyond any shadow of a doubt that they’d still be there.

Yakko and Wakko were her favourite people. She may have been the youngest, but she wanted to protect them. That didn’t mean she had to hide how she felt.

Dot took their hands, holding on tight. 

“It’s okay,” Yakko said gently. “You’re alright, sis.”

Dot believed him.

That was an improvement too; not so long ago, she hadn’t been sure anything would be alright again. But now? Now she knew everything was going to be okay.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Wakko stopped having panic attacks when he couldn’t find his siblings. He was getting better at spending time apart from them, even just for a few hours. 

Sometimes he wasn’t totally sure he’d ever be really okay with not knowing where they were, but for the most Wakko felt better. Much better. Besides, wasn’t Nurse always saying “only the time will tell”?

Whatever that meant. Wakko couldn't see the future, he wasn’t a fortune teller, and time didn't speak. Nurse only smiled when he said that and poked his nose.

Wakko wandered around the gardens; the memorial was in a week and the idea still made him nervous. One big long day of speeches and talking about the invasion; they were going to unveil Angelina and William’s statue in this very garden and then a big memorial statue in the town square. There’d be plenty of speeches from important people and Wakko didn’t doubt there’d be a lot of people crying.

He’d probably be among them.

And maybe that was okay.

He talked with Scratchy about Angelina and William, the little memories and details; the happy stories and the sad. All the little things he was afraid would upset Yakko and Dot.

Wakko didn’t go to a proper P-sychiatrist the way Dot did. He talked to Scratchy, and the way Wakko saw it Scratchy had some training and Wakko trusted him. He wasn’t ready yet, not really. Maybe that made him a big old hypocrite, but Wakko could shrug that thought away.

Everyone had their own pace and ways of doing things, that was what Scratchy and Nurse both said. That was what Angelina and William used to say too.

Wakko didn’t say much, but he watched. He watched Dot go about with a new spring in her step, one she hadn’t had for years, and now it was back. She wasn’t so angry; she didn’t have so many nightmares anymore. Hardly any in fact.

Yakko stopped looking so surprised when people made a fuss of him, or were genuinely nice; he had a new confidence and with his memories fully back he seemed happier. He stopped eyeing the food in front of him like he thought it would vanish.

(If Wakko had stink-bombed and TP’d the old matron’s house, that was his business, thank you very much.)

He watched Scratchy start to relax; he didn’t freak out quite the way he used to. (Not to say Scratchy didn’t freak out. He did, and he did a lot, but he didn’t panic anymore and that was the big difference.) Nurse seemed to have a new determination, more bright-eyed and smiling than ever. She was happy, and Wakko couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so...Content, that was the word for it.

Sometimes Wakko thought it felt like the fairytales their parents used to tell them. They got their happy ending.

Wakko flopped onto the nearest bench, watching the clouds overheard, trying to pick out any that looked like animals or objects. He’d spotted one that looked like Brain when Yakko and Dot found him.

“You okay, baby bro?” Yakko asked, pulling Wakko’s cap down over his eyes.

Wakko nodded with a smile, pushing his cap back up. They didn’t make him talk and he loved them for it. He lounged against Yakko and Dot lounged against Wakko, her head on his shoulder.

It was a good day, Wakko thought. A really good day.

“Love you, baby sister, big brother,” he said.

“Yeah, you too,” Dot said, lightly nudging him. Yakko smiled at him.

“Love you too, Wak.”

There were times where waking up felt unreal. For a moment, Yakko would blink up at the blue canopy overhead, lying in his massive bed, warm and too comfortable to move, and he’d think it was a dream. 

He’d close his eyes and expect the room to turn cold. He’d expect to hear other kids snoring or murmuring in their sleep. He’d practically hold his breath as he waited for one of the matrons to shove the door open and shout at them all to get up.

But it wasn’t a dream. He wasn’t in the orphanage and if there were any kids snoring around him, it was his siblings. He was Yakko Warner, King of Warnerstock and he was home. 

All that time he’d dreamed of a family, but they’d been a vague concept, a hope ingrained deeply in his heart: warmth, safety and love. He’d wanted to know who he was and how he’d ended up on those train tracks.

He’d never dreamed he was royalty. He’d just known that whoever had given him his necklace must have loved him. He’d held onto the hope that someone was waiting for him, looking for him. 

In that regard, Yakko had been right. 

Getting his memories back had been bizarre. They’d started to creep up on him before he’d even realised; he’d tried to brush it off as dreams, as Yakko just fooling himself. He hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up.

Five years of being told you were worthless, useless, crazy and unwanted left their marks.

“Crazy kid. Hopeless brat. Nuisance.”

Who would have expected Elo to be a missing prince? He sure hadn’t. But once his music box opened and their lullaby began to play, it had all come flooding back. Yakko felt like he’d been tugged out of a dark room and into the light for the first time; it had left him dizzy and reeling and he’d clung to his siblings, the only things that had felt real in that moment, anchoring him.

They still did. Whenever Yakko felt overwhelmed he’d go find them; they’d mess about, or sit and talk, they’d have fun and his siblings made him feel better without even knowing. Just having them there made Yakko feel better; they always made him smile.

The guilt was there, that nagging sense that he had left them, he left them alone, he broke their hearts...But on his good days (and there were more and more of those, far outweighing the bad) Yakko could admit it hadn’t been his fault. He’d fallen; it had been an accident. He’d had amnesia, it couldn’t be helped.

That didn’t always stop him from feeling bad (they all had their bad days) but today was a good day and Yakko stretched out, yawning, blinking rapidly in an effort to wake himself up.

The door burst open, and Wakko and Dot jumped onto his bed, still in their night-clothes. They both jumped on top of him, eyes shining, giggling.

“What did you do?” Yakko asked with a grin.

“Nothing,” Dot said, batting her eyelashes.

“Yet,” Wakko added.

Yakko waited expectantly, squished underneath them. His siblings caved first.

“Wanna prank Plotz?” Dot asked.

Yakko’s grin widened and he held them close. “Always,” he said. “Got any ideas?” 

Today was shaping up to be another good day, he thought. There were still plenty of things to worry about; foreign ambassadors, feeding their people, the memorial and generally cleaning up Salazar’s mess...And Yakko didn’t care. Right now, he wasn’t worried.

Right now, Yakko was exactly where he wanted to be.

Chapter Text

“One step at a time, one hope, then another, who knows where this road may go? Back to who I was, on to find my future; things my heart still needs to know.” - Anastasia

There was a lot to plan. Yakko didn’t know the first thing about coronations; he vaguely remembered stories about his parents being crowned, and he thought he remembered seeing his grandparents’ coronation portrait. 

He read his book of fairytales for the millionth time, but the coronations in the stories were vague. They were described as grand, glorious, beautiful. The illustrations, though faded, were pretty.

Yakko knew not to expect anything from a fairytale. Warnerstock was freshly out of Salazar’s rule. They had a whole country to rebuild. It wasn’t as if they’d give him some terrible coronation (after all, they wanted to celebrate), but he knew it wouldn’t be like his parents’ big day.

A part of Yakko thought “The bigger the better!” The rest of him wasn’t even sure what their budget was.

This was going to take weeks of work and planning. They needed a guest list, a venue, food, entertainment...Yakko liked parties but planning them wasn’t exactly a whole load of fun.

But needs-must. Yakko was determined to be a good king, and that meant being responsible, and paying attention to details like this. He was determined to have fun at the party afterwards, and to make sure his coronation went off without a hitch. He wanted to follow in his parents’ footsteps, so Yakko got to work.

The thing was, they needed help with planning, but most of the nobility had worked for Salazar, or even with him in recent years. It was tough trying to figure out who could be trusted and who couldn’t. A part of Yakko, the Elo part of him, said not to trust anyone but his little family.

Thankfully, Brain, Scratchy and Nurse took charge on that front. Yakko would need a council: all monarchs did. The trick was deciding who that should be, through a long series of interviews which made Yakko so bored he nearly fell asleep in his chair.

“I want Brain,” Yakko said to Scratchy early one morning. They’d been given the best rooms in the best hotel in Acme Falls (which admittedly wasn’t that great anymore) and Yakko sat on the cramped window-seat, his book of fairytales open on his lap.

Scratchy smiled at him and nodded in agreement, but Brain barely seemed to be listening.

“You want me to what?” Brain asked, still distracted by the long list of names for potential council members.

“I want you on my council,” Yakko said. Brain looked up sharply, and Yakko held his gaze with a smile.

Brain’s expression softened a fraction. “I would be honoured,” he said, and it was as simple as that. It was one thing off Yakko’s check-list.

It was Dot who reminded him about outfits. 

“We need to think about what we’ll be wearing,” she said. Wakko groaned in annoyance right away, but Yakko paused, considering it.

“Huh,” he said. Feeling pretty foolish, he added, “I, uh- I didn’t really think about it.”

Dot rolled her eyes. “Boys,” she muttered. The looks she gave them were almost pitying. “I suppose you can’t help being so hopeless,” she said.

Yakko threw a pillow at her. It hit her square in the face, but she only laughed.

“Don’t make me dress up,” Wakko pleaded. 

“You gotta,” Dot said firmly, hands on her hips. “We all do, or did you really think you could go to Yakko’s coronation in a sweater?”

The look on Wakko’s face said yes, he had actually.

Sighing, Yakko glanced in the mirror. He was in his favourite smoky-topaz (not tan, thank you very much) slacks and had snatched one of Scratchy’s fuzzy sweaters for himself in an effort to keep warm despite all the snow. He had plenty of fancy clothes now; they’d had tailors and seamstresses arriving day and night back in Burbank to give him a whole new wardrobe. It wasn’t like he was lacking in options- but he knew Dot had a point.

Just one more thing to plan. Great.

He tried to recall their family portraits, all those coronation portraits lining the hall to the throne room and mostly came up blank, but he had the impression of a lot of gold and jewels, rich blue clothing, orbs and sceptres. 

“We’re going to dazzle everyone,” Dot said proudly. She summoned some paper and a pencil and began to sketch so fast her hand was a blur. “Just you wait, I’ve got lots of ideas!”

This was one thing Yakko was happy to leave in his little sister’s hands. Wakko just looked relieved that she wasn’t nagging him anymore.

Deciding to hold the coronation outside, in the town square, was one of the first things that had been suggested. They needed a venue, and the palace was in no fit condition, it wouldn’t be for ages yet. Yakko didn’t want to hold his coronation in some noble family’s mansion or estate. He wanted the whole town to be able to attend.

Despite knowing this, the nobility seemed terrified when they suggested holding it in the town square, like they thought Yakko was going to lose it. Granted, Salazar had been in charge until recently and he wasn’t exactly known for his patience.

Yakko just shrugged, watching all those grown-ups sigh in relief. “Outside’s fine,” he said. Really, it sounded perfect. He’d said he wanted everyone to attend; it was supposed to be a celebration, a hugely important event. Maybe outside wasn’t the traditional way of doing things, but Yakko didn’t care about that.

What mattered more? Doing things traditionally, or doing things right? Yakko knew what he cared about.

“You’re sure you’re okay vith it?” Scratchy asked later on, when they were alone.

“You said this is meant to be a celebration,” Yakko pointed out to Scratchy. “People keep saying it’s a new era and stuff, right? So everyone should be allowed to go.”

Scratchy smiled at him and ruffled his fur. “You sounded like your father today, you know?”

“Really?” Yakko asked.

“Ja. He’d think it’s a good idea too.”

They had the venue, they (eventually) had a long list of important people who needed to attend, and they had plenty of space for the people of Acme Falls. The stage was put together and decorated with flowers and banners. Three new thrones were even put together for them, because Yakko insisted on having Wakko and Dot by his side.

A priest tried telling him it wasn’t traditional. Yakko talked over him until he got the hint and dropped the topic.

The town square was covered in banners and ribbons in the Warner colours. People had even painted the Warner symbol on the sides of buildings. The streets were cleared of garbage and snow; vendors sold little blue and gold flags and toys for kids, as well as warm drinks and snacks.

As it turned out, Dot had come up with some pretty damn good ideas for their outfits. They were all in blue and gold, their robes trailing behind them. They’d even commissioned matching coronets for Wakko and Dot, though Wakko shoved his down on top of his cap, refusing to remove it. No one tried to convince him otherwise. 

Honestly, the robes felt heavy with all the layers and embroidery. After tripping one time too many, Yakko took to practicing walking around in his hotel room. He tried to keep his shoulders back and his head high, his gaze straightforward; he tried to mimic his father’s walk, remembering his mother’s instructions.

“Good,” Brain said as Yakko completed another circle of the room. “Much better.”

“Am I floating yet?” Yakko asked with a grin, remembering their lessons.

“Like a sinking boat!” Pinky said, giving him a thumbs up. Sighing, Brain bonked him on the head.

There was a knock on the door. Pinky hurried over to open it, jumping onto the door handle. A butler stood in the doorway, dressed in the Warner livery; a cloth-of-gold cape was draped across his outstretched hands. 

Great, just as Yakko got used to his coronation robes they just had to go and add one more layer. He took it with a stiff smile.

“Uh, thanks,” he said. The butler squawked at him, bowed deeply, and left.

Yakko closed the door, shaking his head in bewilderment. What a weird guy, he thought.

“There’s something weird about that butler,” he said, draping the cape over his shoulders and pining it in place.

“He was a giant chicken,” Brain said flatly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Brain.”

The day of Yakko’s coronation was sunny and cloudless; it was still freezing, but with the sun shining everything looked much better. There was a buzzing energy in the air, hope growing and growing in their people. Yakko could already hear the crowds gathering, the servants rushing around to make sure everything was perfect.

There was a knock on the door and Scratchy walked in, already fully dressed in his best clothes, his coronet polished until it shone.

“Ready, kidses?” he asked. Yakko, Wakko and Dot were still in their pyjamas, curled up together on Yakko’s bed. 

“As we’ll ever be,” Yakko said. 

The three of them played their music boxes as the servants all arrived to help them get ready. Yakko clenched his fists to hide how his hands shook. Wakko kept fidgeting and Dot tapped her fingers against her knees impatiently.

Yakko knew the plan by heart: they’d be taken down in their carriage. As the clock struck midday, the ceremony would start. In a few short hours, Yakko would be crowned King of Warnerstock.

He couldn’t believe that, only a few weeks ago, he’d been Elo the orphan. And now here he was with his family, his past no longer a mystery and his future right in front of him.

It was scary, of course it was- but deciding to go to Burbank had been scary too, and he’d still done it. Fighting Salazar had been utterly terrifying, but he’d done it. He’d done it with his family by his side. Just like now...Only maybe it was a good kind of scary.

You can do this, Yakko reminded himself. Be brave.

One step at a time, one hope then another; Yakko would hold his head high and face whatever the future brought his way.

It was time to go. Dot held his hand, Wakko linked their arms together.

“Ready?” Dot asked.

Yakko nodded. “Ready,” he said.

With his siblings on either side of him, Yakko led the way downstairs, towards the carriage, towards their future.

Chapter Text

“All we see is light, ‘cause the sun burns bright. We could be alright for forever this way.” - Dear Evan Hansen

Those big brother instincts never really went away. Even at the orphanage, Yakko had tried to look after the younger kids, to shield them from the worst of things; he’d read for them, tuck them in, sing for them and listen to their problems.

For five long years, he hadn’t known he had siblings. He liked to imagine he did; as Elo, he’d daydream that he had a huge family, waiting for him to find them. He imagined two loving parents, maybe even aunts and uncles, grandparents. When he was locked in the attic, he’d look up through the hole in the roof and watch the stars and he’d pretend he was camping out under the stars with his siblings. Sometimes he played around with the idea of being the youngest, or a middle child, but mostly he liked to imagine that he was the eldest, that one day he’d come home and then he and his siblings would have fun together, constantly cracking jokes and getting into trouble.

He’d had no idea how right he’d been.

The instinct to protect had never really gone away and, when his memories came flooding back, Wakko and Dot had grounded him, kept him rooted in reality as his memories jumped about in his mind rapidly. 

They’d been looking for him, just as he’d been looking for them.

It was easy to get back into the swing of things, once Wakko and Dot were involved. Yakko loved them, plain and simple; most of the first memories to return had been about his little siblings. There were days when he felt terrible for forgetting, when he drowned in misplaced guilt. There were times Wakko and Dot would talk about something he hadn’t been there for and he’d feel lost all over again, a frantic part of his mind screaming that they didn’t need him anymore.

But they did need him, like he needed them.

Being a king was tough work; ruling and rebuilding a country was exhausting, however rewarding it may be. Yakko felt like he was making a thousand mistakes...Until it came to Wakko and Dot.

Politics? Annoying as hell. Rebuilding a country? Exhausting. 

Being a big brother? Easy.

Wakko had a bottomless stomach. Yakko fondly referred to him as “their little garbage disposal,” or “a walking trash-can,” titles that Wakko usually took in his stride.

But even Wakko had his limits.

He suddenly ran from the ball room, looking decidedly green. Yakko ran after him, brushing past the ambassadors and foreign royalty, ignoring Nurse calling his name.

He didn’t focus on anything but his brother.

“Wak!” Yakko called. “Wakko!”

Wakko wasn’t even halfway down the corridor when he stopped dead and was sick all over the floor. He sniffled miserably, wiping at his mouth, ears drooping and tail between his legs. He looked for all the world like a kicked puppy. Yakko ran over to him, rubbing a hand up and down Wakko’s back.

“S-sorry,” Wakko sobbed. He still looked a little green and sweaty.

“Don’t sweat it, Wak.” Yakko lifted him straight up. Wakko clung to him, hiding his face against Yakko’s neck.

“You’re alright,” Yakko said. “We’ll get this- and you- cleaned up and then it’s off to bed, okay?”

“Stay with me?” Wakko asked.

Yakko knew he was expected to rejoin the banquet. He was expected to sit on the throne and act like an adult.

But if you asked Yakko, acting like an adult also meant looking after his family. Scratchy could handle the banquet and people. His siblings came first.

“Sure thing,” he told Wakko. “I’ll bring my fairytales; sound good?”

Wakko nodded. Yakko carried him down the hall, in search of a maid to clean the floor. He’d have to send another maid or butler to fetch Dot and let her know what was going on.

Luckily he ran into Marita pretty fast and she agreed to clean up while Flavio let Dot know where her brothers were.

Yakko carried Wakko straight to his bathroom. Wakko sat miserably on the edge of the bath while Yakko got the water running and fetched his brother’s favourite bubble-bath.

“Don’t worry, baby bro,” he said, taking Wakko’s cap off to ruffle his fur. “We’ll have you sorted in no time.”

Yakko was worried sick, not that he’d let Wakko see just how freaked out he was. It was utterly unlike Wakko to throw up, so it was down to Yakko to sort this out and make sure Wakko was comfortable.

Besides, the smile Wakko gave him, like Yakko was the best person in the world, was totally worth it.

Dot didn’t just get angry; she raged. For such a little thing, she had a big temper. For such a cutie, she could get downright rabid.

Sometimes her temper was justified, like when she raged against Salazar and his treatment of their people, their family; or when she ranted and raved about inequality, people assuming she couldn’t do much because she was a girl, the youngest. Heaven forbid someone called toons lesser in Dot’s hearing.

Other times, her anger was completely out of proportion.

Such as right now. 

Dot was having a bad hair day. The steam from her bath had caused her fur to puff up and now that it was dry it was even worse, sticking out at odd angles and still looking rather clumped together.

Dot smashed her mirror with a mallet. Her maids ran in terror. Honestly, Yakko couldn’t really blame them. 

Dot continued to stomp around her room, ranting, screaming and swearing at the top of her lungs.

Wakko covered his ears at a particularly loud swear. Yakko watched in bafflement, amused despite himself.

“That’s our cute little sister who said that,” he chuckled.

“How come she’s allowed say it and I’m not?” Wakko asked accusingly.

“She’s not,” Yakko said firmly. He marched over and grabbed Dot, pulling her into his arms. There were many ways to handle Dot in a temper, but Yakko knew of two fool-proof ones.

Option one: crack jokes and make fun of people until Dot stopped ranting and started giggling.

Option two: shamelessly flatter her.

She didn’t look in the mood for jokes, so flattery it was.

Before Dot could turn her mallet on him, Yakko poked her on the nose, gave her a bright smile and said, “Y'know, you’re awfully cute when you’re angry.”

Dot paused. Slowly, she lowered her mallet.

“You really think so?” she asked.

“Oh, definitely! You’re adorable,” Yakko said, nodding. “Right, Wakko?”

Wakko nodded. 

The mallet was safely tucked away in Dot’s hammerspace. She smiled, preening shamelessly.

“Oh, well,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “In that case, I guess it’s not so bad.”

Too easy, Yakko thought fondly.

(Really, all it took was another quick bath and a vigorous brushing to sort Dot’s fur out in the end.)

A lot of things in Yakko’s life were tough work. 

He was a fourteen-year-old king, he had to deal with missing memories and flashbacks hitting him at random. There was the trauma of the invasion, and even the trauma of the orphanage, though it took him ages to admit it was indeed trauma. He had a country to run, a country that had nearly been destroyed by Salazar. He had to sort out which members of the nobility were trustworthy and which weren’t. There were so many events to plan and attend, endless council meetings and laws to fix or outright abolish.

It often felt like one problem after another. 

But Wakko and Dot? His funny, sweet, fierce and brave siblings? They made everything worth it. There were so many times when Yakko felt like he didn’t know what he was doing, that maybe he was making a bigger mess instead of fixing things.

Then Wakko would show Yakko how many sweets he could fit in his mouth, Dot would show off her new dress, and Yakko would instantly be smiling again. They’d hug him and chorus, “We love you!” and everything felt okay again.

Whenever Yakko felt overwhelmed, confused, or frightened, all he had to do was find his siblings. Just being near them made things better. 

If there was one thing Yakko was doing right, it was this: he was a good big brother, and he knew it.

It was one thing he didn’t ever doubt.

In the end, Yakko, Wakko and Dot had each other no matter what; they'd be okay.

Chapter Text

“Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you.” - Coldplay

The day had come at last. The memorial.

Yakko had barely slept, sandwiched in between Wakko and Dot, an arm around each of them, staring at the canopy over his bed. Neither of his siblings had slept much either, truth be told. He doubted many in the palace had.

The sun was rising earlier each day, as summer approached. The day promised to be warm and bright, and Yakko was just glad it didn’t look like it was going to rain.

He didn’t know how to feel.

There was a knock on the door and, rather than any maids or butlers, Nurse came in, gently closing the door behind her. She was already fully dressed in a long rose-pink gown, her hair perfectly styled. Her eyes though, were swimming with anxiety.

“It’s time to get up, darlings,” she said gently, a little apologetically.

Yakko, Wakko and Dot looked at each other. Wakko sighed, puffing out his cheeks, but they dutifully got up, albeit slowly.

Yakko’s limbs felt like they were made of lead. He tried to mentally run through his speech, but his mind had gone blank. All he could think of was Angelina and William; all he could hear were gun-shots and screams, the phantom scent of smoke tickling his nose.

He shook his head and went to his wardrobe, sorting through his clothes with more force than necessary. This was going to be a long day and he knew it, but he also wouldn’t be alone. That was the part he’d focus on.

He wasn’t alone. He never would be again.

They started early. It was nine in the morning when the whole royal court gathered in the gardens for the private memorial. 

It was time, at last, to unveil Angelina and William’s statue.

They’d chosen a spot towards the centre of the gardens, surrounded by roses. None of them had wanted to put it in a corner, or towards any of the walls; they wanted the statue to have pride of place, where everyone could see it.

This wasn’t just meant to be sad, Dot reminded herself. It wasn’t just about Angelina and William’s deaths; it was about celebrating them too, their lives and achievements, their reign; their love for each other, their children and their country.

Her heart was still pounding all the same. She walked with her brothers, Scratchy, Nurse, Pinky and the Brain, leading the way with the court and foreign ambassadors and visitors following behind them. Most of the courtiers wore black from head to toe, but the Warners wore their family’s colours and their crowns. 

Just like Yakko’s coronation, Dot wanted this to go perfectly. 

This was for her mom and dad.

Everyone was quiet as they approached the statue, still hidden under a long white sheet. It was over six feet tall and she could see the outline of her parents’ ears and crowns, but not much else.