Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She wakes up and smells the apples. Apples are all she has these days. Don't get Mary wrong, she loves the farm, but with only the elder farmers around she feels more alone than ever. Probably more than ever. She can't quite recall father than a few months back. Something about a boarding school maybe? She does remember a lot of red and pain and someone shaking her. Shouting "Mary!"

The policemen, who found her, said she must be recalling the accident that caused Mary's memory to scatter like so much dust. She's mostly fine not remembering. The boarding school she must have gone to must have been a wicked place, if all she can remember about it is scary and hurtful. But, since she can't recall the school's name, the cops couldn't investigate properly. This makes Mary curious too. What WAS she doing at that wicked school? Her imagination flies away with her and she dares think... was she a horrible person too? The kind to land herself in danger? If so, then what for?

In moments like these, as she lay with her eyes closed at night, her past self's life seemed like an adventure novel to Mary. Nothing like living on a farm, she thinks sighing wistfully. Well, nothing for it. Mary gets up to face another day of looking after the trees, the orchard as isolated and serene as ever in the sun.

Now, if things continued like usual for Mary, this would be a rather boring story. How fortunate it is then, that a visitor showed up that very day. It's his loud voice that she hears first, before an elderly man in police uniform appears from behind the tall fence.

"Miss Mary!" He greets her and Mary smiles and waves politely. This elderly gentleman is the policeman, who found her near the mountain path all those months back. Mary trusts this man with her life.

"Hello sir. Have you come for the apple jam again?"

"No, no Mary. Three jars are more than enough. My wife already says we have too much. She's been making me eat it every day!" He laughs jovially, shaking his head.

"Well, I had to thank you somehow," Says Mary a bit mischievously. "Here, let me bring you another."

"Always have to have things your way, don't you little lady? What's that that the farmhands call you?"

Mary scowls at that, "Mistress Mary."

"How does your garden grow, little lady?" the policeman appears wary as he asks this question.

"Fine. Some of the trees will bear fruit as early as summer. But more of an orchard than a garden, you know," she chuckles lightly, trying to ease whatever worries the policeman might have.

"Good. That's great Miss. See, the reason I ask is that," he appears to gather his thoughts before sighing deeply. "We believe we may have found your parents Miss Marry."

"Really?" Mary knows the expression she wears on her face is one of deep shock. It is, however, swiftly replaced by hope.

"So, I don't have to stay at the farm anymore? Oh please, say I don't have to!"

"That's the thing Miss," The policeman levels her with a serious look. "Your appearance matches that of the couple, there are even records to prove that they had a daughter called Mary. They, however, claim that they have no children. There are no photographs either to prove that their daughter, if there indeed was one, is you Miss."

Mary feels like someone dumped cold water down her back. The warm sun does nothing to chase away the chills. Do her parents – those people must be her parents! – not want her back? Did she do something horrible after all? They would just leave her? Here? In the wild? Mary feels her breath hitch all of a sudden.

"Miss?" the policeman tries to attract her attention. "We'll continue investigating, until we can be sure-"

"Wildseed," Mary interrupts him with a meaningless word.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No, it's nothing. Just a poem that came to mind."

"A poem?" the policeman frowns at Mary's non-sequitur.

"Yes. I think I might have written it, before, before the accident," Mary strains to remember the words of the poem, and they come to her, as if she has known them all along.

"The Wildseed remembers,

Her family forgets,

Just stay in school forever,

Avoid regrets and spats."

"Can't say I've heard this one," admits the policeman. "I don't want to give you a false hope Miss. I'll keep in touch."

"Thank you," Mary says simply, her mind now occupied with the poem, a thread of the past.

She feels there's an important meaning behind the word 'wildseed'. "The Wildseed", "Her family". Is she a wildseed? A wild girl, a troublemaker? And what don't her family remember? Just her or something she did? Is that why they won't admit they have a daughter? Because she's wild? But Mary doesn't feel wild. Just lonely and directionless. She wishes someone would show up and explain everything. A prince charming to show her the way. At that though she laughs.

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary", indeed. Since when do princes care about nobodies on farms?

Chapter Text

The next several weeks pass with no news about her parents, and Mary begins to lose hope. She plans ways to escape the farm, but then immediately feels ungrateful. The people here accepted her, let her stay, instead of dumping her at the orphanage. That nice policeman always makes a point to visit her too, talking about his family, asking how she likes it here. But Mary just knows she doesn't belong. Not just because the people here have a southern accent and she doesn't. She just feels like she's destined for more.

When a young man with long dark hair shows up at the farm, looking like he's from the city, Mary is ready to interrogate him on the spot.

"Oh, thank god," she cries, "I've been waiting ages for this!"

The young man looks startled. "You… Wait Mary, you remember me?"

"What?" Mary frowns. "No, I don't. I just wanted to talk," her words trail off as she comes to a realization. "Are you from my school?!"

"Shh!" the visitor appears annoyed. "Not so loud. Come with me."

And she does. It's foolish to go with a complete stranger, but he clearly knows something. Besides, she's wild, right? Time to act like it.

They walk far from the farm, across the fields, finally stopping by the edge of the forest. They sit down, side by side, not saying anything at all at first. The wind is strong here and Mary's hair keeps getting in her face. The visitor, however, has no such problem.

"How's your hair staying like that?" Mary asks.

"Magic," he says with a small smile. "Look, I came to say sorry. Even if you don't remember what for."

"Were we," Mary gulps, "Were we friends?"

"Not really," says the stranger.

"Then what were we?"

"I don't know."

This doesn't sound right to Mary. Instead of pointing it out however, she asks, "How did you find me here?"

"It was an accident. I gave you a pie once, brought it from this farm." He snorts, his tone full of derision yet expression sad, "You told me you ate it whole, you idiot."

Mary has some thoughts about being called an idiot, but there's something else bothering her. "Hey, was I a bad person?"

The stranger (her not-friend, whatever) looks dumbfounded. "Bad? You? Hahaha! You couldn't harm a fly!"

She grabs a fistful of grass, uprooting it angrily. "Then why does it hurt so much?"

The not-friend looks pained himself then, "Does it still hurt? Where?"

"Oh. No, I meant in my memory. I remember this soul-crushing pain and pressure."

"What an unfortunate choice of words."

"Why?" Mary frowns, tired of half-answers.

"Because you almost lost your soul."

"Uh. Riiight," she lifts one eyebrow sarcastically. "What, did one of my teachers try to suck out my soul?"

"No, I did."

"What?!"

"I asked for your soul. And you agreed. Magic exists, by the way," he slaps on in the end, leaving poor Mary gaping like a fish.

"You're nuts!" the girl proclaims.

"No, you are. Who just gives a demon their soul? Even for a wildseed that's beyond naive."

Great, thinks Mary, now there are demons involved. "What's your name, oh Mr. Demon?"

"Damien."

"Really?"

"No need to sound so skeptical. It's my real name. Here, let me show you." With those words Damien waves his hand and it's as if the mist falls from Mary's vision.

"You're blue!" she blurts out. Damien also has wings, and his teeth look sharp as knives!

"Said I was a demon, didn't I?" Damien chuckles darkly.

Mary just stares for a moment, then says quietly. "Can you explain this from the beginning?"

"Well, in the beginning you, Mary Sue, went to a magic school called Iris Academy..."

On this warm day, as the grasses sway across the golden fields, two non-friends' voices are drowned out by the wind. The two had thought that everything was lost for them, but perhaps there is a future. After all, not all magic is learned at Iris Academy.