Chapter Text
Many people know this tale as ‘The Ballad of the Archer and the Fox’ but Jacks would always know it as the story of a nightmare. Forget the happy ever afters, forget about a true love's kiss because this is a story of heartbreak and tragedy.
Jacks began the morning the same way he had every morning—at the market. In his twenty‑three years, he’d spent most of them wandering these stalls, ever since he was steady enough on his feet to follow the scent of fresh bread. Sometimes he wondered how long he could keep returning like this, unchanged. How long before someone noticed that he never aged past twenty‑two? A year was more than enough time to get used to being a fate but Jacks still found it unusual.
He hauled his sack over his shoulder. Yesterday he caught two rabbits and a bird. He wasn’t poor—he didn’t rely on what he caught for survival but he had lots of anger and something about watching the arrows gliding through the sky and hitting its mark helped him. It reminded him that things could be worse. Death always seemed to chase him, it was even stamped on his lips. He was a monster and the part that pretended he wasn't died along with the Merrywood three.
Spices drifted through the air like coloured smoke.
“Get your spices!” Someone shouted. Jacks wandered past, children weaved through the crowd, their laughter drifting through the air, holding sticks like swords. Jacks had never experienced the luxury of childhood innocence, he never held a stick like a weapon—he had the real thing. The bow and arrows slung across his shoulder and his carefully built reputation said as much.
“Jacks.” The fruit vendor knew Jacks by name by now. The old man stood behind a crate of apples, the man had kind eyes and sunkissed skin but Jacks always saw past the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I have two rabbits and a bird.” Jacks stated, collecting his bag off his shoulder, “take your pick.”
“Six apples for the bird.” The man stated.
“That’s generous.” Jacks said, making no move to get the bird.
“Are you implying that I’m not capable of generosity?” The man joked.
“I’m implying that either you're in a good mood or trying to poison me.” Jacks grumbled, “and you're never in a good mood.”
“Here.” The man said, tossing Jacks an apple. “Take a bite.”
Jacks was immortal, it would be humiliating to die from poison. Still, he knew the fruit vendor relied on his meat to provide for his family, at least that’s what he told himself when he took a bite.
“It tastes different.” Jacks said.
“Ah,” the man said, “but not from poison.”
“What is it then?”
“A rodent has been feasting on them.” The man said.
“So you plan to give me Rat-bite fever?” Jacks asked.
“No, I plan to make a deal.” The man's bright green eyes met Jack's blue, “I want you to kill the creature ruining my apples.” He slid a large bag of coins across his carefully laid out table.
“Is it a bird?” Jacks asked.
“A fox.”
Jacks bit back a laugh, “foxes don’t destroy apples.” Jacks turned to leave, shaking his head.
“So the legendary archer who never misses a target can’t shoot a fox.” The fruit vendor called.
Jacks turned around, eyes blazing. “I could be on the other side of the market and you wouldn’t see my arrow until it hits your heart.”
“Surley you could find a fox then. Or is your reputation built from your bragging?”
“I will find the fox,” Jacks said, “and then I will shoot it through the eye.”
The man smiled. Jacks collected his things, took his six apples, and didn’t pay.