Chapter Text
"Once upon a time, in a far away land, a young prince lived in a shining castle."
"Aw, Jonas," whined one of his siblings, who were crowded around his feet and staring up at him with expectant eyes. "I want a story about a princess."
Another one piped up, "Yeah, and in a land not so far away." The other kids nodded in agreement.
It was their morning ritual: after the little kids finished their chores, Jonas took a break from his own to tell them a quick story, so long as Dean didn't catch him at it.
Jonas leaned over them and said in his most ominous voice, "How about the tale about the witch who lives in the forest down the lane and eats little children who don't do their chores?"
The four children at his feet squealed. "No," said the youngest one, though she was smiling, "a princess who falls in love with a prince and lives happily ever after in a beautiful castle."
"And a stable full of horses."
"And brave knights..."
'Who fight off a fire-breathing dragon!"
Jonas lifted an eyebrow, barely stifling a grin. "I think next time you all should tell the story and let me listen for a change."
The kids tittered excitedly until all that enthusiasm suddenly snuffed out. Jonas didn't need to turn around to know why they scattered, the oldest girl giving Jonas an apologetic looks as she shuffled the others into the house.
Dean had a way of looming over them all even from across the yard that made Jonas wish he was still young enough to scurry off, too. Dean didn't comment on Jonas' presence under a shady tree instead of out in the fields. He didn't need to. Instead he wiped the dirt from his hands slowly, dirt that was so ingrained into the creases of his hands that it never disappeared. That dirt was a constant reminder to Jonas of just how much of a disappointment he was.
"If you're not doing anything you can go to town for Sue," was all he said.
Jonas tried his best not to sound nervous. "Should I take the cart?"
"You can walk. Don't take all day." Another unspoken warning: stay out of the bookshop. Jonas nodded mutely and scrambled to his feet.
The farm provided most of the things they needed: eggs, vegetables, even a few fruit trees that grew in a tangled mess where the fields of crops butted up against the forest. Once a week someone went to town for flour, lard, and anything else they couldn't make themselves. Usually Sue went, sometimes taking one or two of the children with her to help carry their purchases.
Then there were days like today when Dean sent Jonas.
He was barely out of sight of the house when he heard his name.
"Jojo! Wait."
He paused to let Sydney catch up. Jonas could see Dean stop on his way back to the fields to glance at them. Jonas could practically feel the disappointment from where he stood. No matter the fact that Sydney worked as hard on the farm as anyone, Dean would never think it worth a girl wearing pants.
"How the hell does he expect me to get anything done in a dress?" she'd muttered to herself at night as she repurposed an old pair of pants she'd gotten from who-knows-where to fit her. Jonas would never forget the look on Dean's face when he saw Sydney, already hard at work, in a pair of ill-fitting pants. He would never approve, that much was clear, but so long as she kept working hard and never wore them off the farm, Dean allowed Sydney her pants.
Sydney threw her arm over Jonas' shoulders. She smelled like dirt, sweat, and sunshine. "Give me a minute and I'll go wash up and come with you."
Jonas was shaking his head before she finished despite wishing more than anything that his sister could come with him. "One of us has to help Dean with the pumpkins," he said. "Besides, if you go into town looking like that..." He pointed to the pants.
Sydney rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I know." The playfulness left her voice. "Seriously, Jonas. Just be careful, okay? If you run into Neil or any of his friends..."
"Run?"
"I was going to say hide. But whatever seems most appropriate at the time." She ruffled his hair and started back towards the farm.
The walk into town was down a long, wagon-rutted dirt road that passed through nothing but fields and patches of trees. It was a warm day, probably the last one they would have before winter set in. Jonas could feel the cold creeping into the air. If he had been with Sydney they could have enjoyed the walk and the rare moments of quiet away from chores, children, and Dean.
The looming threat of what might wait for him when stepped into town soured his mood. Maybe the fact that he always had his guard up looking for Neil made Jonas seem unapproachable. Maybe it was his "unnatural obsession" with books. Maybe it really was just him. No matter the reason, the people in town had a tendency to treat him... Well. Most people weren't mean. They just acted like he was something peculiar they'd rather not deal with, thank you very much.
He remembered coming to market with Sue ever since he was a child. He remembered curious looks that turned to something more appraising the older he got. Still, because people thought highly of Dean and Sue, the mothers in town urged their boys to allow Jonas into their ranks.
And that was where the trouble began.
It took no more than one afternoon with Neil Beckham--the boy all the girls wanted to marry, all the boys wanted to befriend, and all the parents wanted their sons to be--to know that Jonas wanted nothing to do with any of it.
He didn't realize then, as a child, what this would mean for him: the target Neil seemed to have drawn on Jonas' back as punishment for the apparent rebellion, and the looks he got when the townspeople realized something must be wrong with a boy if he preferred to sneak away and read a book to hunting and fighting. As though his difference was a personal assault against their way of life.
Like Mrs. Chase, Braxton's mother and the miller's wife, who now eyed him with something like suspicion as she dumped a sack of flour into his waiting arms, sending a small powdery cloud into his face. He wished more than anything Dean had let him bring the cart.
It took a while to pick up their usual purchases. His arms were loaded down, already shaking from the strain, by the time he reached his last stop.
The Mendoza family sold textiles. They made their name selling imported fabrics to the few rich families in the area, and as a side business they sold honey. The small jar of honey Dean allowed them to purchase each week was their only real treat, one that Jonas suspected Dean only allowed because it saved him from admitting that he couldn't stand the thought of keeping bees himself.
More importantly the weekly honey purchase gave Jonas a chance to see Carmen.
He tried not to let her see his arms shake as he set the other items he'd already purchased down, and hoped she thought the redness in his face came from exertion. He pretended to inspected the golden jars in front of him as he worked up the courage to stutter, "G-good morning, Carmen."
She hardly glanced up at him, but it was enough to set his pulse stuttering. "Oh, good morning, Jonah." Her bored smile was so radiant that it didn't even bother him that she'd called him by the wrong name.
"Hello," he said.
She blinked up at him prettily. He got the impression he had just interrupted a particularly deep thought. Still, her voice was kind when she asked, "Did you need something?"
If he wasn't blushing before he certainly was now. "Oh, um. Yes. Honey?"
Carmen giggled. Jonas leaned on the table to keep from toppling over from shear elation. "Yes, that does make sense." She handed him a jar. As he handed her the money, he noticed that the smile had disappeared from her face.
"Is...something wrong?"
She sighed, staring off into the distance. "I wouldn't want to bother you, but..." Another sigh. "It's just that winter is coming, and I hate it. It's so gloomy around here." She wrinkled her nose. "When we lived in the city by the sea, winters were never so cold, and we grew flowers in glass houses. Roses were my favorites." She smiled sadly up at him. "The honey used to taste like it, and Mama and I would make rosewater. I would give anything to have roses again. But even if it wasn't so cold, the ground here is so bad that they just won't grow."
Jonas didn't know what to say to that--maybe, "I'd build you a thousand glass houses and fill them with roses," but luckily was spared the trouble of answering by a hard shove to his shoulder. Jonas stumbled forward, barely able to catch himself on the edge of the table before tumbling to the ground. The jolt shook the jars and sent one rolling off the table. He heard a shatter.
Carmen gasped and jumped back from the unsettled table. Jonas turned, already aware of what he would find when he did.
"Now look at what you've done," drawled Neil. Jonas could see Braxton and Augustus lingering behind him, watching and waiting to jump in at Neil's orders as though the fight weren't unfair enough as it was. When Neil sneered at him it reminded Jonas of a horse with its teeth bared. His teeth always had a tendency to show. Jonas thought Neil never shut his mouth, even to breath. "It's going to take your family a whole month to pay for that."
So much for running or hiding. Sydney would kill him, if Neil left anything behind when he was through. "I was just leaving," he muttered, keeping his eyes down, hoping if he looked submissive enough Neil would get bored and let him pass.
He should have known from experience that wasn't going to happen.
Neil leaned in close so that Jonas had no choice but to look up at him. "You should have thought of that before you decided you were good enough to talk to the most beautiful girl in town," he snarled. Jonas noted the glance Neil shot in Carmen's direction, no doubt checking to make sure she was watching.
A cold sweat pooled in the small of Jonas' back. Across the aisle he saw a couple of the other vendors look over at them curiously before going back to their own businesses. No help would come from them. "I was just..." He paused, knowing nothing he said would save him from whatever punishment Neil saw fit to dole out today.
Neil drew back his arm, fist clenched. Jonas flinched. The jar of honey, forgotten but still gripped in his hand, slipped and shattered at his feet. The hit never landed. Instead Neil threw back his head and laughed. He patted Jonas' cheek, hard enough that it became a slap that brought tears to his eyes. "I'll leave you be now," Neil laughed as though he'd done something truly generous. "I'd hate for you to break any more jars and cause your family to starve this winter." He didn't sound like he'd be sorry in the least.
Jonas didn't watch him saunter off. He stared at the broken glass and ruined honey in the dirt at his feet until a petite cough drew his attention back to Carmen. "Will you be wanting another jar? In addition to those two?" She pointed to the two casualties.
Jonas managed to smile. He always managed to smile for Carmen. He felt her watching him as he dug through his pockets for money. He'd already spent Dean's money and now had to use his own, saved over the long months and now wasted on broken jars and spilt honey.
Without his little stash there wasn't really a point in going into the bookshop. He went anyway.
"Good morning, Jonas," said Mr. Newman called from the back of the tiny shop. "Can I help you with anything today?"
Jonas heaved his packages onto the ground, mindful to be extra careful with the honey. He sighed. Just being in the presence of books--the smell, the rare moment of quiet--calmed him. The pit of misery in his stomach unraveled, if only slightly. Even so he was hit with the unmistakable urge to sink to the floor and go to sleep. "Not really," he said, trying to hide the pang of disappointment he felt.
Mr. Newman came around a stack of books. "What's wrong, my boy?"
Jonas ran a finger down the spine of a nearby book. "Just...Neil." He didn't need to explain further. Mr. Newman was a short, squat man himself, and one who sold books in a town in which many of its residents couldn't or didn't read. He knew what it was to be an outsider.
The thought wasn't exactly comforting.
Mr. Newman nodded sympathetically. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help." Jonas thought he meant it just as sure as they both knew there wasn't anything either of them could do. About Neil. About the townspeople. About their own otherness.
"Thanks," Jonas said anyway. He did feel a little better. He paused for a long time. A thought occurred to him and he brightened. "Actually, Mr. Newman, do you have any books on roses?"
Mr. Newman's mustache twitched. "Roses? I don't think so. I have several horticultural manuals but nothing about roses specifically. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen a rose in these parts. I'd guess they just don't do so well in this soil. Why the sudden interest?"
Jonas felt a hot flush creep over his face. "Oh. Well, I--uh..." He swallowed down a nervous laugh. "I just thought it might be interesting. And maybe I could grow some for...Sue."
"Oh, how nice," Mr. Newman said distractedly. His attention had already shifted to a shelf of books. He climbed a ladder, running his fingers over the spines as he searched for something. "Ah!" He pulled a book and descended the ladder, his knees creaking and popping with each step. He handed the book to Jonas. "I don't know about roses but there's a lot in there about growing flowers."
Jonas tried to hand the book back. "Sorry, Mr. Newman, I don't have any money." He felt the familiar creep of shame up his neck.
After a moment of thought Mr. Newman shook his head. "Don't worry about it. People around here don't grow anything unless they can eat it, so I don't expect I'll be selling that anytime soon. We can just say you're borrowing it." He chuckled.
Jonas flipped through the pages. It was filled with sketches of flowers, some familiar and some so unusual he had to think the artist had embellished a bit. "Thank you. I'll keep it safe."
It was dark by the time he got home and the cows were restless. Dean would be angry, even if he was the one who told Jonas to go. He called over one of the little girls still playing outside. "Go take this inside to Sue." He handed her the flour and waited until his adoptive sister stopped tottering under its weight and ran inside before heading into the barn. He set the rest of the items safely out of the way and started in on his chores.
The horses nickered at him and the cows huffed impatiently, hungry and sore from not being milked in too long. "I know, I know. Sorry I'm late. I had a run-in with Neil." He shuddered at the very thought. "But I got to see Carmen, so that was good, at least."
Even as used to these chores as he was, milking the cows and feeding everything took time. The little kids were old enough now to take care of the chickens and the goat but were too little to handle the bigger animals. Not that he minded. It gave him a difficult, time-consuming job that contributed to the farm. Dean made no effort to hide that he would much prefer it it Jonas worked with him in the fields and Sydney with the animals. Still, as long as everything got done one way or another and to his standards, Dean let it go.
Besides, Jonas like the smell of hay and the warmth of the cow's side. Even Martha, who kicked at him at least twice a day. The animals were a quiet company. They didn't care if he muttered to himself or sat in a corner and read, so long as he fed them first.
After the milking was finished, he rushed to distribute hay to the cows and then the horses, Button and Bud. Button dug into her food eagerly but Bud kept his head up until Jonas scratched his chin. Lots of people said Bud was the ugliest damn horse they'd ever seen. Jonas couldn't really argue the point except to say that he wasn't entirely sure Bud was a horse, maybe a mule or even a stunted donkey. Rumor had it that he came from a magnificent bloodline of warhorses in a village near the coast and that when the stable master--seeing that the foal was doomed to be ugly and probably stupid--sold him as a plow horse. Unfortunately, Bud had a tendency to be lazy. So he passed from owner to owner, the price plummeting each time, until eventually he came to Dean for cheaper than it cost for a sack of flour.
What Jonas did know was that Bud was the most compassionate...whatever-he-was...around. He may not be the strongest or smartest and certainly not the prettiest horse, but he always seemed to know when Jonas was upset. He'd bump his huge head against Jonas' shoulder in what was a "there, there" gesture if he ever saw one.
"Good boy," Jonas murmured as the animal finally dipped his fuzzy grey head into his hay.
Dean said more often than Jonas could count how alike he was to Bud. "Both of you eat more than you earn," he would grumble, casting dark looks at Jonas and the unsuspecting horse. Jonas wished he could be as oblivious.
Dinner was already over by the time he stepped in the house. In his first real stroke of luck of the day, the only people in the kitchen were Sue and Sydney, cleaning up after the avalanche of feeding a family as big as theirs. Quiet chatter drifted down from the loft the children shared, all piled together on shoddy wooden platform furnished with nothing but mattresses on the floor.
Sydney met his eyes and glanced towards the door to the only bedroom in the house, indicating that Dean had already gone to bed. Jonas felt a bit of the tension leave his body. His shoulders ached from hauling the heavy packages such a long way.
"Hey, sweetheart," Sue said softly when she noticed him. He tried not to wonder if the softness was for him or to not disturb Dean. He felt ungrateful for even thinking it. "I left you a plate of dinner on the table. Thanks for going shopping for me."
He set everything carefully on the table before sitting down. "No problem. Thanks for dinner." He dug in.
"You didn't have any problems, did you, Jojo?" Sydney leveled him with a pointed look.
He refused to look at her when he said, "Of course not." He heard her sigh. They wouldn't talk about it in front of Sue. Sue liked to believe everything was okay. The kitchen was quiet for a long time until Jonas remembered he had something he wanted to ask her. "Sue?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Do you know anything about growing roses?"
Sue looked up at him over the plates she was putting away, clearly surprised. "Not more than anyone else, I'm afraid. Why do you ask?"
He shrugged. "No real reason. Just curious." He tried not to let his disappointment show.
The look she gave him made it clear that she was afraid he'd say that. "Well, I know they don't grow around here much. I can't say that I've ever even seen a rose, to tell you the truth."
Something in Jonas sank lower. "Oh."
If his adoptive mother noticed, she made no comment. Sue dusted off her hands. "I'm off to bed. Sleep well, both of you."
Sydney waited until Sue disappeared into the bedroom before raising an eyebrow. "Roses? Does this have something to do with Carmen Mendoza?"
Jonas hated how easily his sister saw through him. "Maybe."
Sydney rolled her eyes mightily. "Jonas, for your sake I really wish you would pick another girl. Any other girl. The village is full of them, and if you can't find one you like, we'll search the whole countryside until we find the right one for you. The right one being literally any girl not engaged to Neil."
"She's not engaged."
"She might as well be, the way he treats her. The way she treats you, I might add."
"I don't want another girl," he muttered. "I lo--"
Sydney made a quiet screeching sound. "If you say that word about that girl I will not speak to you for a week."
Jonas frowned at his plate of half-eaten food. He didn't remember what he was going to say because just then the bedroom door opened. They froze until they saw it was just Sue.
"I remembered something that might interest you, Jonas," she said, clearly happy at the prospect of helping him. "It's just an old tale, but they used to say that the only place roses grew was deep in the forest, on the road to North Town."
"I didn't know there was a road through the northern forest," said Sydney.
Sue nodded. "Oh, there wouldn't be any reason for you to know. No one's used it for as long as I can remember. I guess whatever town used to be up there stopped trading, and then there was no reason to use the road so people sort of forgot about it. There even used to be a fairytale we told when I was just a little girl that there was a castle surrounded by an abandoned city."
"Abandoned why?" Jonas asked, momentarily distracted from his rose plight.
"Well, now, the old stories all say different things, it was so long ago. Most likely everyone died from the plague. Others believed the castle had been put under an enchantment by a powerful witch who had been scorned by the king, and that she cursed him, his servants, and the entire town to wander the earth as ghosts for eternity. That's just a silly old wives tale, though." She laughed at herself. "Oh!" she added, as though startled out of her own thoughts. "That story is the reason roses don't grow here. Because the witch cursed the land, too. Something about the king not deserving beauty, I think? They grew in the forest, just beyond the castle and out of his reach where he would see them and be reminded of what he could never again have."
"But is it true?" Jonas asked hopefully. "About the roses, I mean."
"I don't know," Sue said thoughtfully, making her way back to her bedroom. "They used to say there was all kinds of things in those woods, living and otherwise. Things that were natural, like roses, and things that...weren't." She paused and looked back at Jonas. "Here I am, rambling on. Was that at all helpful. Was that what you wanted to know?"
He smiled back at her. "Yes, it's exactly what I wanted to know."