American Dynasty

T W E N T Y - T W O

A/N Thanks for bearing with me, guys. Life has been trying to kill me lately and it's been a tough few weeks :( But I'm back and writing! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

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Ireland, 1907

"Stop it!" Flynn cried out as a group of older boys circled him, cheering on their leader who was laughing maliciously as he punched Flynn in the stomach.

"Weakling," the boy scoffed. "Look at him, lads, he can't even fight back!" The boy's friends laughed and heckled, hurling insults at Flynn. Flynn's face crumpled in anger and he let out a guttural yell as he charged the boy and tackled him to the ground. "Hey! Get off of me!" The boy screamed.

Flynn viciously punched him in the face as fast as he could, completely losing himself in the violence.

"Hey! Hey!"

The group of boys scattered as a figure ran towards them. The next thing Flynn knew he was yanked off of the boy and carried away. "Are you out of your right mind?" His older brother Declan yelled. "You're five years old, you shouldn't be fighting!"

"They started it!" Flynn complained. "They called me...they called me a..."

"What did they call you?"

"A-a really bad word for gypsy."

Declan pressed his lips together and set Flynn back down onto the grass. "And that's why you were fighting?"

Flynn nodded, his face still stained from his tears. Declan picked up his brother's small, pudgy hands and examined the red marks on his knuckles. "I like that you fight back when someone disrespects you, Flynn, but you don't need to use your fists. Violence is never the only way. You have father's bad temper, and that's something you need to learn to control."

Flynn nodded solemnly as Declan took his hand and began to lead him back towards their house. 

Ireland, 1909

"Get back here you little thief!" Flynn whipped his head around to see a stout and portly merchant angrily chasing after him. His tiny hands grasped a shiny red apple, his prize for the day. Flynn smiled in victory as he ducked through the crowd, using his agility to his advantage. He was home free. Or so he thought.

A hand suddenly grabbed the back of the collar of his shirt, stopping him dead in his tracks and choking him a little bit. "What do you think you're doing?"

Flynn's eyes widened when he heard his brother's voice. "Nothing," he squeaked, looking up timidly.

Declan glared at his little brother, shaking his head in disapproval. "You think you would have learned the first time. Remember?" Flynn shivered slightly at the thought of the punishment his parents had doled out the last time he stole.

The merchant finally caught up to them, breathing heavily. "You-you're in a lot of trouble young man," the merchant wheezed, bending over and placing his hands on his knees.

"I'm terribly sorry about my brother, Sir," Declan apologized to the merchant. "He has a tendency for mischief." Declan again glared at his little brother, making him shrink back. "Give him the apple, Flynn," Declan ordered, motioning to the merchant. Flynn bit his lip before reluctantly returned the fruit to the merchant's hand.

He harrumphed and examined the apple. "It doesn't look like there's any damage...I suppose I will let him go this time. But if you steal from me again, boy, expect consequences!" Flynn gripped his brother's arm tightly as he watched the merchant lumber away back down the street.