Rose's Thorns: The Wolf's Prophecy

10

Rose's pov

It had been over a week since Orion had been welcomed into Rose's secret room, and quite quickly, the two of them had grown a bond. One, a runaway whom no one really knew, no one approved of, and everyone came within close proximity without even realizing it, and the other a princess whom everyone knew, everyone approved of, and no one got the chance to even come close to.

It was the morning of the 21st, and Rose had woken before the sun came up. She briskly slipped on some pants and a shirt, with a beautiful red long hooded cloak to hide herself in. With a quick glance at Orion's sleeping form, she went down the many flights of stairs, into the dining hall. Rose fought to ignore many things over the past week, like the queer looks from her sisters, who pressed her tiredness, or the worry in her father's amber-gold eyes. No one ever questioned her when she brought food to her room, or when she spent most of the day hiding behind her maps, or her history books. No one seemed to give it a second thought, the long nights, or the nightmares she persistently had. Years ago, she would have crawled in her mother and fathers' bed, asking them to help her hide from the monsters that always seemed to follow her no matter where she went. But that was years ago, not now. And she was no longer fearful of the red-eyed shadows that laughed at her when she walked the castle alone. Instead, she laughed along with them and bid them farewell when the sun came into the sky.

So, it came as no surprise when she had gotten the food from the kitchens and worked her way to the library on the 5th floor with no interruption. Here, she brought out many volumes of books, each teaching of the history of the kingdoms, the wars, the victories, the heartbreak, and the joy. When she had worked her way up to her room, with large books and a plate of breakfast delicacies, she saw that he was still sound asleep. Boys. So, she busily laid out the clean clothes that he had no doubt stolen from some poor unsuspecting clothesline somewhere and laid his breakfast out on a table. On a sheet of paper, she loopily wrote:

Here are your fresh clean clothes, and some breakfast, the temperature depends on the time you wake.

I am out practicing in a clearing west of the large castle garden

if you would wish to join me, go out into the holland walk four paces left of the suit of armor

Tap the blue square softly twice.

Enjoy the ride.

The clearing was in fact completely hidden by thick spruce trees, put there by Rose when she had first discovered it. This was not the same clearing she had been practicing with Josephine in, but it served the same purpose. She took a deep breath, inhaling the earthy scent of the wind and trees. The small creek that ran next to her and the golden light coming through the clouds towards the east. She could live here. Not just survive, no. She could thrive. Away from the maids, away from the dresses and expectations. Away from the golden phoenix eyes of her father, always wishing that she would open more. Away from it all. She could do it. But she knew deep down, they would not. But it is fun to fantasize.

Half of her wanting to wait for Orion and the other half not caring if the black-haired boy slept his life away, she quickly centered herself. Taking deep breaths, she felt the soil beneath her boots. The wind in her hair. The birds call ringing in her ears. And then she felt it. The tiniest of pulses in the ground in front of her. Like a heartbeat, but smoother, crisper, and humbler. The pulse of a seed. A tiny form of life, too deep in the earth to be heard or helped naturally. Steeling her resolve, it raced through the ground, and to the surface, dragging roots and veins behind it, breathing its first breath of fresh air. From this infant form, she brought forth the leaves, the sprout. Then like lightning, it shoots into the air, a proud little thing. A bud. And even more, an entire ball of leaves and red stems, forming a bush. the buds of the plant flowered into a golden drop of sunlight. And the drips that ran down formed the sharpest of thorns. But the most amazing part? The tiny buds, from one seed, grew beautifully into a rose. A rose of a thousand petals. The seed that had no chance at all, crippled and buried so far below the surface, now the king of the clearing.

What an honor.

Rose walked around it, getting closer to her creation. She could say she was proud, but it saddened her to see the effort it took to bring the life about, when anyone could come through her clearing and trample the flower. It was so beautiful and delicate, and the thorns offered it as much protection as it could. Every rose has its thorns, and she hoped that if anybody dared pick her creation from the ground, that the barbs would not let them soon forget the price of obtaining such a beauty. She took one last look at the new ruler of her creations, He was beautiful.

But was it enough? Was a simple flower enough? She had to be the best. She had to make her mother proud. But was that still possible? Could she see her from wherever she was? Did the Life-Giver have her in the castle in the sky? Rose hoped so. She really really really hoped so.

She looked around the clearing and took in her surroundings.

When she was young, she had been awed by her ability to create life. So naturally, she attempted to take it a step further. She wanted to create animals. beings. With blood and heartbeats and minds. With a soul. With willpower and the chance to be good. She was 11 when she had made her first living animal. She had been alongside her mother, in the courtyard behind the castle, listening to her sing the song that she loved so much. She had been staring intently at a little sand creation she had made. Some sort of frog-shaped mound. She had wished over and over, and she had reached deep down and that is when the frog blinked. The castle was in such a fuss after that. It was hilarious. She imagined the look of surprise and pride on her mother's face. The feeling of "I did it" that she held deep in her heart. Then it was happening. From her fingertips, birds flew into the trees. From her words, great stags formed from mist, and woodland rabbits were fluffing out their brand-new coat, as they had grown from infant to adult in 2.4 seconds. She was proud. She looked to the sky, and she was proud.

But it hurt. The strength it took, the energy she gave, it hurt. The ground began to spin. And her eyes began to water. And then the wave of exhaustion rolled over her. The ground rushed up to meet her, and there was no more pain. Before she could do much to stop it, she crumbled to the ground.