Spoilers for Chapter 6 of AHE- I'd advise reading that before this.
Rose
Ten minutes after Marion and Blanche leave.
The light was just about shining through the curtained windows as Rose climbed back into bed. The bed sheets were cold against her skin as she wrapped them around herself.
They were gone, just like they said they would go.
And part of her wanted them to stay, particularly that new one.
The one with all the stories.
Marion, her name was Marion.
Rose's mind was still trying to sort through all the things she had told her about. People who lived in villages and towns, near other people. They could buy and sell things in a market place, could knock on other people's doors, see other people outside the house they lived in.
Rose had never had any of that. Ever.
All of her life, she had lived within these four walls, in the middle of the forest. There had been travellers, people who had accidentally wandered too far off the path. But no one like Blanche and Marion before. Her Aunt's usually saw to it that no one stayed too long.
They were afraid of the world, that's what Rose thought. That's why they lived here, isolated and away from everyone.
But, Marion made it sound so wonderful.
There were celebrations, and dances, and weddings, and feasts. Times were people gathered together to enjoy themselves.
Rose hadn't had an unjoyful childhood. And certainly when it came to her birthday, her aunt's made sure to get her presents and cakes and sing to her. But she had never been to such a gathering of people. And she desperately longed to go.
Before, she had been blissfully ignorant. She had only had what her aunt's told her about the outside world to go along with. But now, she knew more, and wanted to see more.
She wasn't a complete idiot; she did know some things. She had been taught how to read and write, on pieces of paper that were then promptly burnt. She had read literature and basic numbers. But the most unusual thing of all is that she had been taught about the law of the land, how it works and how to judge people fairly and wisely. She had always just thought it had been a bit of fun on her aunts' behalf, something to break up the literature and maths lessons. They had posed potential situations, and asked her to act like the Queen, giving out rewards and punishments to the innocent and guilty parties. Rose actually had enjoyed those lessons, they were different; interesting. But that was all they were, a little bit of fun. Nothing serious.
Rose turned over in her bed, away from the light of the new day that was shining far too brightly for her tastes. She looked away, and closed her eyes, and waited for sleep to wash over her.
Later that day, Rose was tending to the orchard, a little way away from the cottage. It was about as far away as her aunts would let her go. Ever since she had pointed out it was to be her birthday soon, they had been terrified. Rose had no idea why. She had mentioned the subject about a month ago, lazily bringing up the subject that her childhood was almost over, and she would be eighteen in a month. All three of her aunts had flinched when she had said this, and instantly began to whisper amongst themselves.
They had left the room, leaving Rose to sit sowing by the fire. She hadn't minded, they did it a lot. But when they had come back downstairs, they had told her in no uncertain terms that things were going to have to change, just for a little while. She had to understand that it was for her own good, and that she had to trust them.
Rose had agreed to it, of course, she trusted her Aunts. They were the only family she had ever known. She had never met her parents, and wasn't entirely sure what had happened to them. From what she could gather, they either were dead, or had given her up. If the first, Rose wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know, it would just upset her. And if the second…. She didn't even want to think about it. She didn't really think much about her parents.
So, there she was. Within a safe distance from the house, just tending to the trees. They didn't need much doing to them. Most of the apples weren't ripe enough to pick yet, but the trees had some overgrown branches and could do with a little trimming.
She had a sharp knife in her hand, and she was sawing away at the low lying branches that were shielding the apples away from the sunlight. Humming as she worked, she ignored the aching in her muscles, and her tiredness. She didn't sleep very well the night before, thinking about the two girls in the basement. How they had gotten here, how different they were from her, and yet the same.
Both were roughly her age, maybe a little older. All her life she'd only ever known her aunts, who hadn't aged much all her life. She had grown larger day by day, but they never seemed to change. But those two girls were like her, growing up together. Although she knew her aunts would hate it, she desperately wanted to see them again.
Her arm moved continuously back and forth, trying to get this branch to cut. Her cheeks were tinged pink by the exercise and her hand began to sweat with the effort. It was after all a lovely April day. She was so preoccupied with her task, that she didn't hear the set of footsteps creeping ever closer to her.
'Excuse me?' A voice sounded.
Rose whirled around, knife still in hand, startled at the voice.
A man stood not ten feet away. As soon as he noticed the knife she held in her hand, he threw his arms up suddenly.
'Oh, sorry.' He cried and took several steps back, almost tripping over himself.
Rose simply stood and stared.
The man was young, just a little older than herself. His light brown hair fell a little over his broad forehead, grazing the top of his eyes, brushing his eyelashes. He had arching cheekbones and a soft face.
However, Rose did not lower her knife. Her eyes dare drift lower, down to his torso. His tunic was very neat, brown leather with a little decoration. A long dark brown cloak, almost black, covered his shoulders and fell behind him.
'Can you put the knife down?' He asked cautiously. 'I mean you no harm.'
Rose didn't move a muscle. Her arm was still raised before her, knife clutched tightly in her fist.
'I swear, please. Just lower the knife.' He asked again, taking a step backward.
Rose considered it for a moment. The young man looked harmless enough, and he looked scared. Scared of… her.
She considered it for a moment. His terror was genuine. She could feel it.
It was a strange thing, but she'd always been able to tell. It was a sort of gift she had. She could always tell if what they were showing on their faces was the truth. Something she'd be born with. And she could tell the young man in front of her really was scared, and was telling the truth about meaning her no harm.
Slowly, very slowly, she began to lower her arm.
The young man's features began to relax, and he stood up straight.
'Thank you.' He said, releasing a long breath.
'Who are you?' She asked him, tilting her head to one side a little.
The man took a tentative step forward
'Philip. I'm Philip.' He told her, with a small smile. 'May I know your name?'
Rose tucked the knife into the belt of the dress she was wearing.
'Rose.' She said.
'Rose.' He repeated, as if testing it on his tongue. 'I like that.'
'Why are you here?' She asked him, not shifting her gaze from him.
He laughed a little, and took another step forward.
'I'm riding through, on my way home. My horse is down the path at that lake, he needed watering. But I heard singing so I came up here to investigate. And here you are.' He told her.
'I wasn't singing.' She said, refusing to take her stare of him. 'I was humming.'
'It's roughly the same thing, isn't it?' He replied, the corners of his mouth tilting up a little.
Rose didn't reply. She wasn't sure whether to agree or contradict him. So, she simply stood there, staring.
A young man. She had never met one before. And certainly never met one by herself. Her aunts had always been there.
'Do you live here?' The man asked, gesturing around.
Rose only nodded slowly, not being any more specific. Her aunts didn't like people to know they were here; they had made sure Marion and Blanche wouldn't tell anyone. She highly doubted that they would approve if she told this man as well.
'All the way out here?' He questioned, taking another small step towards her.
'Yes.' She breathed out. Maybe she needed to go and find Flora. She would know what to say to him. Flora was talkative, she always knew the right thing to say. Rose didn't.
'I suppose, each to their own.' Philip muttered.
Rose studied him for a little while longer, her heart racing with each passing second. She wasn't entirely sure if it was from nerves of talking to someone new, or speaking to someone without her aunt's permission. Her throat went dry, and her breathing began shallow.
'You've had a long journey?' She said, not entirely as a question.
Philip shook his head a little.
'No, not too long. A few hours so far, and a few more to go. I was visiting an old school friend of mine.' He said, raising his eyes to meet her gaze.
'School friend?' She asked.
Philip nodded.
'You went to school?' She asked him.
'Yes, Ashburne school. When I was a boy.' He told her.
'Marion never mentioned schools.' Rose said, more to herself than to Philip.
He simply stood there in confusion.
'What are schools like?' She asked, tilting her head a bit to the side. Unfortunately, the angle of her head caused some locks of her hair to spill across her eyes, momentarily shielding her vision. She batted it back, and tucked it behind her ears. Philip only chuckled a little.
'What do you mean what are schools like?' He said, laughing.
'I don't know. I never went. Tell me.' She demanded.
Philip looked a little startled at her insistence, but shrugged his shoulders at the command. Noting a log sat in the ground next to him, he perched himself comfortably on the top, and patted the space next to him. Rose had no idea what he meant.
'Do you want to sit?' He asked.
'Why?'
'I don't know. It's just polite to ask.' He told her.
Rose considered this for a moment. Her aunt's would definitely not approve of her speaking with a stranger, but if it was the polite thing to do, then she could see no real harm. So, she strode up to the log, and graciously lowered herself down to sit.
Philip turned to her.
'So, I went to school at eleven. It's this really large building with halls and bedrooms and classrooms. You know what a building is, right?'
Rose nodded, listening aptly.
'Anyway….' Philip continued. He talked and talked about his school. His three friends he shared a room with, James, Christopher and Antony. The mathematics and languages lessons he was subjected to. The names they used to call the old and grumpy teachers. Rose listened to it all, soaking up all the stories he told her. When he was quite done, he took a long breath.
'You don't like to talk very much, do you?' He said.
'I just don't have much to say.' She said, looking away from him, in the vague direction of the cottage.
It was true, she had never been to school, or really been outside the cottage. She had no stories to tell, no experiences to relive, no adventures to retell. It had never bothered her before, but something now tugged on her heartstrings.
She simply had lived, existed, for the past eighteen years of her life. She had never questioned it, not for one second. Not until Marion and Philip had told her about what lay beyond the forest. Now, she longed to see what was outside, in the world of people. Where she could talk, and make friends and do things.
'That can't be true. Everyone has something to say. Some tale to tell.' He told her.
'I don't.' She told him, still staring off into the distance.
'Well, I'm not going to believe that for a second.' He said, straightening up. 'Tell me about something that isn't real then.'
Her head snapped to look at him.
'If you have nothing in your life to talk about, tell about something other than your life. What about your dreams?' He asked.
Rose considered this for a moment.
'My dreams…' She mumbled. 'I've had the same one for as long as I can remember.'
Philip sat listening, watching every small movement she made.
'Light, always light. But different colours. I suppose like a rainbow. They are warm and caring, and they float around me.' She began. Philip didn't move.
'But there's always the red one, harsh and angry. It wants to hurt me. But it is pushed away by silver. It's always the silver one last. Silver is calm, and soft.'
Rose lifted her gaze to look directly at Philip. She wasn't entire sure he was breathing.
'Always the same, the colours. They dance around me.' She said.
Philip's forehead crinkled a little.
'That's…quite some dream….' He admitted, his voice was raspy and confused.
'Is that not a usual dream?' She asked. Her aunts had told her that it was probably nothing, and she shouldn't think too deeply about it.
'Well, my dreams certainly aren't like that. But I wish they were.' He told her, with a small smile.
'Maybe it will finally disappear next week.' She muttered, more to herself than to Philip. Her aunts were scared of something, something that might happen once she turned eighteen; maybe this was it. Her dreams would stop.
'Why next week?' Philip asked gently.
'It's my birthday. My childhood will be over.' She told him.
'Huh' Philip huffed. 'Same day as that princess, the one who died all those years ago.'
Rose didn't know anything about this princess of which he spoke, and wasn't really interested to find out, so she said nothing.
'Are you celebrating?' He asked.
'Celebrating, what?'
'Your birthday, of course. You should be, especially if it's a big one.'
'I don't know.' She told him, looking down to the ground. Her aunts had told her she was not to leave the house at all on her birthday. Did that count as celebrating?
She saw Philip give her a small smile out of the corner of her eye, and he softly placed his hand over her own.
'I'll celebrate it with you. You shouldn't be alone on your birthday.'
A rush of blood flooded Rose's cheeks as she looked at their joined hands. It felt strange, but nice and comforting. She liked it.
'I won't be alone. My aunts will be there.' She told him, unable to tear her gaze away from their hands.
'Still, I'll come.' He told her, giving her a gentle nudge with his shoulder. 'I'm not one to miss out on a celebration.'
'I'm not sure they will welcome you.' She said.
'Well, I'm not coming to see them, I'm coming to see you.' He told her.
Something jolted through her heart. No one had ever wanted to come and see her before. Even the girls they had sheltered for the night had only come because they were in danger. No one had ever wanted to see Rose. She smiled at Philip, finally lifting her gaze to his face. He was smiling too. It was a kind expression, one full of gentleness and maybe a little bit of awe.
Rose thought about the young man in front of her. He was kind and caring, she could tell. Her gifts, or whatever they were, told her that much. He had made her smile, and listened to her. She was at a loss for words to describe exactly what she was feeling. Never before had she had so many thoughts flying through her head at once, it was almost too much to bear. But all those thoughts were centred around how pleasant the man before her was. And she found she liked the feeling he inspired in her.
A loud horse whinny interrupted her thoughts, and Philip's head snapped around to face the source of the noise.
'I think my horse is getting impatient. I should probably go, still several more hours of riding to go before I get home.' He said. He lifted his hand off hers, and she instantly felt the cold air wrap around it, chilling her. She had liked him holding her hand.
Philip stood slowly.
'It was very nice to meet you Rose. I hope our paths cross again.' He told her.
She remained sitting, but nodded in agreement; she also desperately wished their paths would cross again. She wanted to see him again.
He gave her a small bow, and a smile. Then he began to walk past the log she was sat on, in the direction of the horse sound.
Rose found herself standing and shouting before she even realised what she was doing.
'Wait.' She cried. He stopped, and turned around to face her slowly.
'You have to see me again.' She told him. 'Please.'
She wanted to see him, she wanted to hear more stories of the world. Now that she had been introduced, she longed to hear more about other people. Her curiosity was not yet sated. And especially, she wanted to see him. There was something about him, something she hadn't been able to place. Something that made her heart race and her cheeks colour. But she liked how she felt, and wanted him to come back.
Philip's grin only spread wider and wider.
'I will come and see you again. I'd like that very much.' He told her.
She beamed at him, already anxiously waiting for the next time he would be before her.
'Soon?' She asked, in an excited tone.
'As soon as I possibly can.' He told her.
They both stood there, just silently beaming at each other. As if neither of them wanted to break the spell that they were both under.
Another horse whinny had Philip's smile dropping.
'I'm sorry, I must go. Until next time, Rose.' He told her.
'Goodbye, Philip.' She said. The word tasted foreign on her tongue. Strange but not exactly unpleasant.
She gave him a small curtsey, and he reciprocated with a bow. Then, he turned around, and reluctantly dragged himself back to his horse, leaving Rose to stare back after him.
Too many thoughts, too many feelings. She had no idea what was going on; it confused her. But she found that she liked being confused like that. It wasn't bad, just different. In fact, it was nice.
Before too long, he disappeared from sight, and Rose simply stood trying to make sense of her first interaction with a young man. And she found herself completely unable to keep the large smile off her face.
A young man, she had just spoken with a young man.
Philip.
Philip.
'Rose, where are you?' Came a voice from behind her. Sybil was calling for her.
Rose turned quickly and made her way back towards the cottage.
Sybil came into view, her hands held around her mouth as she shouted for Rose. She stopped the moment she noticed her walking towards her.
'Oh, there you are dear.' Her aunt said. 'Come on in. There's tea ready, and we need to talk to you.'
Rose just nodded, and followed her aunt inside. The brightness of the day faded as they entered the room. Rose was surprised to see both of her other aunts sat in their chair's by the fire. Flora stood as Rose walked in, but Mary remained sitting, a large wooden box resting on her knee.
'What is it?' Rose asked innocently. She had no idea what was going on.
'Rose, my dear. I think it's best you take a seat.' Flora said, gesturing to the empty seat in front of her. Rose sat in it, folding her hands in her lap, like they had always taught her to do.
Sybil took her usual seat, and Flora sat back down. The three of them exchanged uneasy glances between them, and Flora took a large deep breath.
'Now, Rose. You are almost eighteen. You will no longer be a child soon. But we thought it best that you know exactly how your childhood started, before you leave it behind.'
Rose was confused by this sentence. Her brow furrowed as she tried to understand what they were telling her.
'We are going to tell you a story. A story about your Mother and Father. Your story.' Flora told her.
Flora's gaze flittered to the fine wooden box Mary kept on her knee.
'It's time you knew the truth.'
