Chapter Text
Once upon a time, in the era before we forgot about magic, there was a poor merchant. He had little but a noble name and a wife who loved him dearly.
‘In another life,’ he would tell her, as they sat in their small and humble home, ‘I could have lived in a castle. For my descendants are kings. Yet here we stay, in a home much too small for a family, and fighting for our livelihood.’
Their small country house was a considerable travel from town, and so much further when he could not afford a horse nor mule to assist the journey he had to make so often. Yet poor of coin, the couple were blessedly bountiful in affection. Never needing to be as parsimonious with their love as they were their non-existent wealth.
‘If only my grandfather could see me now,’ the pauper noble would mourn. ‘He would cry at how the nobles have fallen. The tears he would shed. The indignity he would know it to be. Brother of the king, forced to live in a home unbefitting of his station, unable to give his wonderful wife the life she deserves. Oh my dear, how I long to take to you balls in the newest finery, to enjoy concerts with you, to spoil you like the queen you are in my heart.’
His wife did not regret their station in life though, for she knew never to grow bitter with one’s lot, for it only led to unhappiness. Yet there was no unhappiness in their life, with the exception of the months of longing and separation spent apart when the merchant would travel to far away towns determined to apply himself to his work to the best of his abilities.
Fortune had not been afforded to the couple, but love was just as precious a bounty, and due to their humility and industriousness, their reputation in the town was a most favourable one. The merchant was known as a man with a giving and wonderful heart, his wife a woman of patience and helpfulness. Those in town wished for their successes, and that their life would be a happy one.
The merchant’s upcoming journey weighed heavily over the couple, who were burdened by the forever honeymooner’s plight.
Absence was as profound as bereavement.
‘My darling, it simply must be true that absence makes the heart grow fonder,’ the merchant lamented, ‘and though it is tempting to remain here, perhaps this is the journey that will turn our fortunes favourable.’
It was an optimistic thought, of course, for every trip before that had been long and arduous, troublesome and exhausting and resulted in nothing more than the passing of months and the admittance that their wealth remained just as it had before.
‘My dearest,’ his wife comforted. ‘Think not of the agony of leaving, but the pleasure you shall have upon seeing our home upon your return. I have a surprise before you before you leave. Upon your return, you may be greeted by two, and not one.’
‘You are with child?’
‘The gods have blessed us.’
‘And they shall bless us more, for now our family grows in accordance with our love and our joy and it is another reason for you to hurry home with haste.’
With haste he did travel. And in that haste, as he journeyed alone through a forest vast and unfamiliar he came to be lost. With no horse, no servants and only the wares he had not sold heavy on his back, the merchant began to fear his future would be bleak. What might get to him first? His hunger? His thirst? The cold? Or the wolves he could hear howling around him lurking in the trees?
Fearful, he ran from the forest and hid himself in a stable, a distance away from a palatial home. Far larger than any home in his village, or any home he had seen in his kingdom, with the exception of the king’s castle, the merchant declared, if only to himself, that he would spend the night in the stable and thank the owners in the morning if he came upon them.
Unlike the castle, the stable was decrepit and crumbling, a forgotten outhouse that had not served its purpose in many years. The merchant could see the newer stable a fair distance away. But he dare not approach for he did not wish to be shooed away. He would not suffer the indignity. He was a man of no wealth and power, but considerable self-importance. He held himself with the dignity of the fallen noble he believed himself to be. He was ashamed that life had brought him to this stable. He would not share this embarrassment with others. He would simply spend the night as quiet as a mouse.
In the morning, the weather was much better than the night before, and the merchant believed that he could travel on with ease. He dutifully knocked on the door of the palace, but found no response to his calls. Quite astonished by the inhospitableness of the unknowing and unwitting host, the merchant looked through the windows to observe the finery inside.
Upon investigation he saw that his host was an incredibly blessed individual. They had all the wealth the merchant did not. Yet, it appeared they were not in possession of the manners which the merchant held.
He tried the servant’s doors to similarly little response, before he opted to waste no more time and travel through to town. If he received no answer, his patrons would receive no thanks.
Parading through the palatial estate to the wide wrought iron gates on his journey to leave, the merchant was enamoured by the delightful and beauteous arbours that grew on the grounds. He delighted in the wondrous flowers that grew, such prettiness he had never found in nature before.
In the cloak of night, the merchant had not seen the thick hedges he had hurried past, and the bounty of roses he found there astounded him.
What a wonderful gift such flowers would be to his newborn daughter. He was yet to meet her, and yet the merchant knew they would pale in comparison to the beauty of his firstborn child. He’d heard rumours of the roses which grew in this kingdom, many had. It was part of the rich and romantic tales this land had aplenty. He had been told, in a tavern by locals, that roses were rare here. Roses in this kingdom were not like other flowers. Yes, these roses never age, never wither, never die. He knew with the greatest certainty that a freshly plucked rose would be the perfect gift for his new-born daughter, Ochako.
He plucked the prettiest bloom with a degree of vindication. It was his right to take a flower, as recompense for being ignored by the masters of the house. He had tried to be polite and grateful and they had rejected that. A rose would be a repayment to his bruised ego.
Immediately, a single rose in his hand, a great roar had a shiver of fright freezing the merchant where he stood.
‘You ungrateful brute.’ A furious voice bellowed.
A frightful beast barrelled his direction, sending the merchant’s knees quivering.
‘I have offered you safety in a storm. I have requested no payment, nor no punishment for your trespassing. And in return, you steal my roses. Do you know nothing of the roses in this kingdom?’
‘I do,’ he admitted, for before the beast he could hold no untruth.
‘I hold value in these roses more so than I do in anything else in this universe. You must die for your thievery,’ the beastly man snarled.
‘I shall return what I have taken. Please, take back what I have taken.’
‘A cut rose shall grow no more. It shall flourish no more.’
The merchant, tearful, fell to his knees, offering his hands, in pitiful prayer.
‘I beseech you, my lord. It was not my intention to offend you. I simply desired a gift for my wife and daughter just born. I am only a poor man. I cannot afford a bounty. I had pure intentions.’
But the monstrous man knew so well the selfish desires for wealth and power that the merchant held, the disdain he had for his station in life, his disgust that his first child had been born a daughter and not a son. He had a quirk that could see into ones very soul and pull forth every shameful secret, no matter how well hidden. He could discern the pure from the corrupt. The good from the evil.
‘I am not moved by the flattery nor false humility in your speech. But you have a daughter and she does not deserve to suffer at the foolishness of her father. I will forgive you, on the condition that you suffer for your crime. Your family line will be punished, an unending punishment for the rose whose life was ended.’
‘Please my lord,’ the merchant grovelled. ‘I cannot stay here with punishment. My wife cannot work, not as she recovers from the birth. I beg you, show mercy.’
‘You say a great many convincing words, but I know your heart is unchanged. You feel wronged for your crime. You feel you do not deserve punishment. To that I say fine. Return to the wife you love and the daughter you wish had been a son.’
‘I did not say such a thing,’ the merchant protested.
‘You did not have to. For I can see the truth of man. And you, you are corrupt to the core, a selfish man. You desire renown. But, though you can hide your beastly true visage, that will no longer be true for your family. From this moment on, your family will show the beastly true face of your family to the world. A permanent reminder of your selfishness and carelessness.’
Cowed, the merchant fled, returning to his home kingdom and straight to the palace to visit the king, his cousin, in search of aid. The king was not a good man and he was not a kind one. Though he might have shown a personable face to the public, it was a false one. A trait he and the merchant shared.
The king listened to the plight of his pauper cousin. Internally he gloated, joyous in his cousin’s sorrow, for it was simply another reason why he would never ascend to power, never be a threat to the king’s crown.
He doesn’t want the Uraraka family to gain anything he cannot have. This was an opportunity for the king to hurt the Urarakas and not help them. He recognised that fallen power is a power which can still be rebuilt.
‘Cousin I shall help bring your name to justice,’ the king promised. ‘I shall not have our kingdom’s reputation sullied by such disrespect.’
And the king did as he promised, killing the beastly man who had cursed the family, burning his home, and his precious roses to ash.
All the merchant was left with is a rose he had meant as a gift, the weighty burden of a curse that could never be lifted, and a daughter he had doomed.