The Court of Flowers

The woman’s skin, the color of alabaster and gold, opened as the true-silver blade touched her flesh. She, a warrior who had stood for countless ages, fell to her knees in disbelief as her own blood poured from her veins and covered the earth. Flowers sprang forth from those places where her blood hit the ground.

He closed his eyes, tears dropping from his cheeks, and pulled the blade from her chest. Slowly he blinked his eyes open again and looked over her body to the calming din of battle, and felt their eyes turning to him. The woman who he once called his love, the woman who had been his Queen, now dying at his feet, looking into his face without malice. For the first time in centuries, he could see love behind her eyes.

Those eyes, the colors of lilac petals, looked deeply into his and then went dark. Her life-force freed from its fleshy jail, returned to the earth and was at peace.

He held her body and wondered: How could it have come to this? How could this have happened within the Court of Flowers?

“My Lord,” his chamberlain whispered from behind him.  “My Lord, you must stand and assume the crown once again.  The Queen of Thorns is gone now… the King of Flowers must offer his power to the realm.”

The King, on his knees, still cradling the lifeless body of his Queen, remembered the Realm and why he had returned. He let her body lay upon the earth fully now, and she was no more.  The ground accepted her into itself, and she was gone.  The only remembrance of her was the golden rose bush that sprang to life on that spot.

The King of Flowers stood, looked out across the masses, and lifted his right hand into the air.  A shimmer of golden dust swirled around his outstretched hand and blew over the gathering.  The warriors on both sides sheathed their weapons and knelt facing him.

Peace had returned, but with it a deep sadness grew within their King.

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