Branded - Larry Stylinson

Chapter 15 - Liars and Kings and Cowards

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Othello sat at the end of the dining table. He heard everyone chatter around him. Hanji shouted and cackled as always, voice drowning out Rory and Zayn's utterly dull conversation about Pride and Prejudice. Niall was speaking, and he talked more at Erin rather than to him, as the the poor man didn't have time to get a word in edge-ways. Louis was somewhere in the room as well, Othello could smell the white rose that lay in his breast pocket. It was sweet, sweeter than those that crawled up the Coffee House walls by far, but the Gypsy had picked it, and he'd only choose but the finest rose for his King.

"Open." Harry said over the sound of clanging cutlery and loud voices. His hand was on his son's nape, and his prosthetic was wrapped around a fork that he fed into Othello's mouth when the boy opened it. Harry watched his son chew on the chicken breast for a moment and then Othello swallowed, and thought passed over his face.

"Papa.." He said, slowly. "Where's Liam?"

*

The dining room fell silent.

Even Polly stopped gnawing through the bread-loaf when she heard the name. Every pair of eyes turned to the boy in his wheelchair, then to the fork that shook in Harry's hand, and finally, they rested their eyes on Harry himself.

Harry, of course, did not know what to say, and his lips moved but no sound left them. What could he say? That Liam was dead? That he'd been brutally murdered for giving Othello and Lafayette to the Snatchers? That Othello's father and Liam's friend had been the one to kill him? There were both options of wicked truth or pretty lies that could have answered a question like that. Harry would have rather walked down the fires of Hell than respond to such an innocent question.

"He's-"

Othello turned his face to Harry's voice. He could hear it shaking, and felt the grip on his nape slowly drop. A fork falling onto a plate made him jump.

"He's dead, Othello." Louis said. "Liam is dead."

There was another deafening silence, longer than the last. Heavier. Othello's grip grew stronger on the wheelchair, his breath tightened and it didn't return to normal, even when he swallowed. "You're joking." He said, forcing out a laugh that convinced him otherwise. "Come on, Pa, where is he?"

Louis watched him, rid of all emotion, dark-eyed, and then he stood. "You're calling me a liar, now, are you?" He asked. His voice was hollow, and it was the one that'd scare Othello awake at night. "This is the cruel reality, Othello. If you're so eager to be a man, you need to learn how to face the truth. The Commander is dead."

"But.. I don't understand.." Othello stuttered, and while he did, Harry glared at Louis.

'How dare you say that.' His eyes were saying, 'Take those words back.'

Louis glared at his husband. "Liam drank himself to death. He went to the bar and never came back. It was the booze that killed him."

He held his head far too proudly when he lied to his son. He had far too much confidence while he stared Harry down and denied what he'd done. He may have been the King, but he was a coward that regretted Liam's death. Perhaps his horrible confidence was what kept the crown balanced on his head.