Branches, Birches and Junipers/Chapter 2

"If you love me let me go ‘Cause these words are knives and often leave scars The fear of falling apart And truth be told, I never was yours The fear, the fear of falling apart"

- Panic! at the Disco – This is Gospel

“Dad, don’t do this,” Icarus clenched his fists, looking at his father with a look that could only be adequately described as ‘pissed off’. “Lea doesn’t deserve to be the next Marlinchen.”

“You know who deserves being the next Marlinchen even less? Your cousin.”

The redhead boy shook his head profusely. “No. Dad. Mark is my Marlinchen. He grew up as Marlinchen, and you just take that away from him?”

Macintosh sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I’m not taking that away from him Icarus. Marlinchen wasn’t his destiny in the first place.”

“He’s grown up as Marlinchen, though. Lea hasn’t, that’s the thing,” Icarus said, gesturing with a single arm.

“What about Lindsay, though? You need a stepmother, you realise?”

“Oh, she serves as stepmother just fine. Lea? Nope. Definitely not Marlinchen.”

Icarus had been in the middle of a boring Che-myth-sy lesson when he had been called to the office. And there had been his father, perched over, launching into a speech about how important it was to make their adaption of the Juniper Tree more accurate, how important it was to replace a certain family member, and other junk that Icarus knew of but didn’t care about.

And after voicing his opinion on this matter, he had let out a sigh, and continued to voice them.

“You threatened the Juniper Tree before, and you’re doing it again. Why is this?” he asked, tilting his head. And not in the curious sort of head-tilt, mind you. The guy tilted this head not to pose a question, but rather direct a snarky remark.

“It’s for my sister.”

“So it all boils down to Aunt Marlene, right?” Icarus said, a frown quirking up on his face.

His father gave an odd mix of a nod and a shrug. “You see, I’ve always felt a sense of guilt for not getting you a stepsister, or even a stepmother earlier, mainly because it ruined my own sister’s life.”

Icarus arched his eyebrows. “Don’t you think she would have forgiven you already? Dad, why are you so stuck in the past?”

His son had a point, but his tone vexed Mac. Icarus sounded so rebellious, as if he was trying to challenge his own father, out of all people. So… rude. It reminded him of his sister more than anything. Instead of acknowledging Icarus’ point, Mac decided to police him instead.

“Marlene’s corrupted you, kid,” his father said. “I knew it was a bad idea having her raise you.”

Icarus stared up at him, visibly irked. “And what, have you raise me? You drank yourself into a stupor every week since Mum dropped dead.”

“Don’t talk about your mother like that, Icarus.”

“But she can’t hear me! She’s dead!” Icarus clenched his fists, almost leaping out of his seat. “Why do you care so much? Why you care about what I say about her, but never about me?”

The retort hit Mac like a truck. He reeled back, a hand reaching up to cover his mouth in shock. Quickly composing himself, Mac breathed deeply, and spoke. “Just like you to say something like that. Icarus, you’re very insolent.”

Icarus seemed more proud that ashamed to be called ‘insolent’. A grin darted on the guy’s face, but was soon replaced by the same steel seriousness of before.

Mac arched his eyebrows, irked by his son’s antics. Icarus was never the cultured, civilised son he wanted, rather a derisive mess that ruined everything Mac worked towards. It was frustrating, irritating, infuriating.

His kid didn’t even listen to him, his father, out of all people. He was so influenced by… everyone else. Everyone but him. And in particular, his sister.

An idea sprung into his mind. Macintosh Juniper leaned toward, lowered his eyebrows and spoke in a calm voice.

“Icarus, you admire Aunt Marlene, do you not?” he asked. “And as we all know, Marlene doesn’t want Mark to be the next Marlinchen. Aren’t you just disobeying her? Isn’t that rather disrespectful?”

“As much as my aunt’s important, this is my life,” he said. “And so, even though she doesn’t want Mark as Marlinchen, I do. And Aunt Marlene always told me to do whatever I wanted with my life.”

“Whatever you wanted as long as it didn’t hurt others!” his dad said. “What about Mark, huh? How does he feel about his destiny?”

A grin quirked up on the young Juniper’s face. “Mark is the greatest Marlinchen the fairytale world has seen for generations. Surely, it would be a shame to waste such potential, right, father?”

“He might be the greatest Marlinchen, but he’s definitely not the most accurate. Icarus,” Mac pleaded. “Please, this switch is for your own good. Stop being so stubborn. Lea’s better for this role, trust me.”

Icarus stood up, eyeing the man with a iron glare. “I refuse to call Lea part of our family or our destiny. And I refuse to have my Marlinchen replaced.”

“Fine,” Macintosh Juniper snapped. “Maybe one day you’ll finally have some sense.”

He stood up swiftly and stalked out of the room.

The door swung behind him.

-

“Marlinchen was never your destiny to begin with,” Marlene said. “Mark, please, listen to me. I’m your mother.”

He slumped into his chair, not even bothering to meet his mum’s eyes. “Mum, you’re a great mum. I get it, you’re concerned for me and whatnot. But I don’t get why you’re so determined to kick me out of school.”

“This isn’t about kicking you out of school, Mark. It’s kicking you out of your destiny.”

Mark arched an eyebrow. “And that’s somehow better?”

“Mark, this is for the best,” she said with a sigh on her lips. “I mean, you won’t be trapped by your destiny, and this change shouldn’t bother you.”

He looked at her pointedly.

Marlene continued. “You would never throw up a fuss about not being the next Marlinchen, right?”

“I would.”

“But you haven’t.” Her words were firm and certain.

Grimm, his mother knew nothing about what happened at the wedding. At least, nothing of the real reason why Mark just snapped.

Marlene Juniper was worryingly oblivious.

Mark thought– no, knew – she wouldn’t understand. And there was probably no hope in explaining it. His mother always told him to bring up any distressing news to her, but Mark had forever thought that being the next Marlinchen was his own battle, and something that his mother didn’t want to hear about. After all, she did try to run from her destiny.

The awkward silence dragged on. Mark fiddled nervously with the edge of his jacket, waiting for his mother to say something. No way in Nether was he going to admit that the nervous breakdown he had at the wedding was because of his insecurities as Marlinchen.

Marlene broke the silence, quickly sweeping off her glasses to dust them. She eyed her son with a critical grey stare.

“You know how I met your father?” she asked. Her tone had shifted from demanding into… forlorn?

Mark sighed. “Don’t know how that’s relevant, but at uni, right?”

His mother nodded. “We were both campaigning at a university protest. Poor guy was almost subjected to violence if I hadn’t intervened and pulled him out at a precious last moment. He got me coffee afterwards, we talked, found out we had the same ideas on the horrors of society…”

“… and you married him and had me,” the dark-haired boy slouched forward. “So what?”

“You’re not just a Juniper, born to be a huge pushover, kid,” Marlene said, her face breaking out into a grin. “You’re the child of two activists. You’re practically born to fight.”

Grimm, why was everything that came tumbling out of his mother’s mouth about fighting? Why did she have to make everything sound so violent? Physical violence was how Marlinchen manslaughtered her brother. Emotional abuse was what really damaged the inner workings of every generation of Junipers. And here was his mother, who said that she wanted nothing but to escape this family, encouraging the exact thing that tore the first set of Junipers apart.

“Violence’s not my thing, though,” Mark said. The corner of his mouth twisted into an irritated pout.

Marlene sighed, sweeping off her glasses with a flourish, wiping them with the cuff of her sleeve. “I’m not talking violence, Mark. I’m talking dedication and determination,” she said in the exact tone she used when talking to her employees. “I mean fighting as in opposing, as in the sustained urge to confront, protest against, challenge anyone who tries to hurt you.”

“Oh.”

“But, I digress.” Marlene sat up. “We’re getting a little off-topic, here. The point is that in life, people are going to kick you down, and the only way to get off the ground is punching them. Not literally, figuratively.”

Mark wanted to groan and tell his mother that he heard this lecture a million times before. But he listened anyway.

“Freedom was what I wanted,” his mother said. “I thought I had freedom when I had you, and that life would be fine, and destiny wouldn’t be restrained us. But I was wrong.”

A gulp caught in the boy’s throat. He knew what his mother meant by that. It was his uncle’s fault. At least, that was who she had always pitted the blame on.

“What I realised what that no matter how had you fight, things, people, whatever. They will still drag you down.”

I was never meant to be a Juniper, Mark mused at his mother spoke on. ''I was never meant to be controlled by the Storybook. ''

“In the end, your story still traps you, I suppose,” Marlene said, lamentingly.

“It’s true, then,” Mark looked downcast, his voice barely a whisper. “You were never Marlinchen.”

Marlene looked up at her son. “Mark, what do you mean?”

“Marlinchen is dedicated, and loyal! Especially to her family! Mum, you’ve never been those things. I mean, you have, but only to me and dad,” the boy spieled into a rant. “But most of all, Marlinchen is loyal to her destiny, and you’ve never been a Marlinchen because of that.”

“And now you will never be Marlinchen. That’ll be amazing. You’ll be free, just as we always wanted to be.”

But he was a Juniper, wasn’t he? Being part of the family was a part of him, no matter how broken they were. Tearing himself away from the family was like erasing himself. Being erased was something done by erasers, and Mark knew that he wasn’t a mistake.

Mark shook his head. “Just like how you wanted to be.”

Marlene arched both her eyebrows simultaneously. “So, since we seem to be having differing opinions,” she said, placing her glasses back over her eyes. “What, specifically, is your stance on this fairytale business, son?”

“Marlinchen is my heritage, mum. It’s a part of me, and I’m not letting my uncle take that from me.”

Marlene leaned back, arching a single eyebrow. Whether she was irked or impressed, it was hard to tell. “If you’re so desperate to be the next Marlinchen, then I guess I can’t do anything about it,” she said, almost sounding defeated. “You’re my kid, not my doppelgänger. I’m not supposed to live my life through you, as much as I would like to.”

Mark muttered a pathetic-sounding “thanks, mum.”

“But your destiny as Marlinchen is probably going to stand on shaky ground from now on. So, if that’s the case, fight for it.”

————————————-

“You’re smirking an awful lot,” Mac said while sitting shotgun in his sister’s car. “Talk went well?”

“It went as well as it could get,” Marlene replied as she pushed down the accelerator, pulling the car out of Ever After’s carpark.

“You’re lucky to have a kid that appreciates you,” he said bitterly, glazing outside of the window. “A kid who appreciates your view on the family destiny, even though you were the one who shunned it and treated it like trash.”

Marlene turned to him, eyebrows arched. “Mac, I care more about my family than about myself. Why are you making this accusation?”

“You, caring about our family?” Mac grimaced at his sister’s words as if they were crass. “Lies, Marlene, I swear. Once you saw the chance to get out of the Juniper Tree, you took it like a child taking candy.”

A pained laugh escaped his sister’s throat. “And then I sacrificed my son so our family story can continue.”

“But now I remarried, so our story had a stepmother and a better Marlinchen.”

“And you did that ten years too late. If you actually cared, you would have found a new wife the second Joy dropped dead.”

Mac grind his teeth. “Don’t talk about her like that! You never knew her, and you never bothered knowing her! Marlene, you really are the worst. The worst sibling, and the worst Marlinchen.”

His sister raised a questioning eyebrow.

He breathed sharply, before speeding through another spiel. “You have no consideration for others, and all you care about is getting the hex out of places when things get even the slightest bit difficult, and yelling at things! Why can’t you just…. just stop messing with my life and my family?”

With every word her brother said, Marlene was shaking her head. “No, Mac, I’m fixing your family that you ruined.”

“I can fix it myself!”

“But you’re not. You’re just wrecking it even more.” Marlene jerked the steering wheel of the car sharply, and the two siblings were now on the main road.

Mac stared at her. “… why are you even so calm about all of this?”

“Because I trust my son to protect our family destiny.”

“You trust YOUR son?” Mac asked. “Mark?”

Marlene laughed. “Sure, he’s a little impulsive and naive, but he has good intentions and his heart in the right place. Anyway, how much do you trust yours, I wonder?”

Macintosh Juniper didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his body away from his sister, leaning towards the left of the car, watching the world outside the window, where cities shifted into countryside, where countryside changed into suburbs of doctors and lawyers, each house more old-fashioned than the last.

He said no words when his sister dropped him off at his house, the largest building on the street, antiquated with baroque and gothic styled columns. He stayed silent when Lindsay welcomed him home, throwing her frail white arms around his neck.

A family photo hung over the mantlepiece. Him and Joy, on their wedding day. Once she had been the sole source of his happiness, the one who anchored him to reality, who pulled him out of the branches of his misery. Now, only a painful memory.

The man collapsed onto a sofa and buried his face in his hands.

''How much do your trust your son? ''

His sister’s words rang into his ears.

How were you supposed to trust the one who killed the woman you loved?