𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐫 - Flynn Rider X Reader

I. The Flower

A single drop of sunlight falls from the heavens.

Where it lands, a brilliant golden flower blooms. It glows solitary on the cliffside where the sea crashes against the rock just beneath, between a ring of trees and tall grass. It casts its warm light though the forest.

With the coveted ability to heal the sick and injured, it did not stay solitary for long.

—

Across the sea, growing with the flower, was a kingdom at the edge of its own cliffside. A kingdom of opulent towers and imposing walls littered with quaint homes and city squares. Its docks hosted gallant ships that came and went as the sun rose and set. The kingdom was bustling with youth and life and the ever changing, ever growing path of discovery.

The kingdom thrived, and to top it all off, its queen, beloved by all, was on the cusp of giving birth to a second child.

And so sickness, especially as bad as it came upon the queen, became the valley in which all good things must fall, the prosperity of the kingdom and all.

The queen's sickness kept her in bed, barely strong enough to raise her hand into her husbands, the kings, for him to kiss, perhaps for the last time every time he did so. She was running out of time, and it was evident in the hollow of her cheeks and the sickly paleness of her skin.

So the kingdom began their search for a miracle.

They boarded dozens of boats to the mainland, a lantern for each search party as they trekked through forests and across mountains in search of a legend, a myth. A drop from the sun the size of the tip of their pinky fingers, or a flower barely any bigger. Nevermind the unknowable dangers within the wilds, untouched and unseen before their arrival on the shores just before them.

All that mattered was that magic golden flower, shining on the cliffside above the crashing waves, the smell of salt on the wind rustling its petals.

—

Perhaps the few days spent in search for the flower were prolonged by a certain individual's will to keep the flower – and its power – hidden. Coveted, used for herself and only herself.

The individual, hooded and outlined in the moon's light, was an old woman with withered bones that creaked beneath her weight as she trekked across the forest. Her mouth was pulled into an old, wrinkled frown, her eyes faded a dull and icy gray. The golden flower, whose location she relied on memory to travel though the wilds to, she kept hidden beneath heaps of leaves and twigs. It was to be hers and hers alone.

Bending down slowly into the grass, she brushes the leaves out of the way with gentle, brittle hands. With them, she cups the flower and its luminant petals. It glows against her pale skin. Her thin lips part in song.

Flower, gleam and glow

Let your power shine

With her song, her gray hair grows black from its roots and the lines across her face vanish. Her hands cupping the flower beneath her grow stronger.

Make the clock reverse

Bring back what once was mine

Her eyes regain their drive, their shine. Her skin returns its healthy flush.

What once was mine

Time has been reversed. The aged woman she had trekked though the forest as is no longer. She has been replaced by her younger self, an elegant young woman with striking eyes and an unmistakable poise. Her smile is sure and dignified, laced with deadly cunning. When she rises from her spot next to the flower, she does so with a newly lofty posture.

This woman has lived for centuries. And she intends on living many centuries more, one way or the other.

Though the solitary flower hardly lasts forever. Another must take its place.

—

A party of the kingdom, nearly at the end of their long search for the golden flower and at the end of their hopes and wills, finally discovers it hastily hidden in a blanket of leaves by the edge of the salty cliff. The leader of their party calls out into the night, his face and the kingdom's bronze armor illuminated in gold, that they've finally found it. They've finally found it.

Within a matter of moments, the flower is dug up by the roots from its spot on the cliff and is ferried back to the kingdom, surrounded by palace guards and volunteers, all drunk off of their relief and happiness. The kingdom, with their hearts in their throats, waits for the news at the docks and rejoices as the announcement is made. Hands clasped, they plead and pray that this is the key to their queen's survival. That they may continue to prosper under beloved rule, that the child that is to be born is saved.

The kingdom's apothecaries work at the flower, and in a matter of hours a broth is prepared to remedy the queen's sickness.

Still in bed, the queen breathes shallowly, every movement paining her. Her husband is at her side, as he always is these days, and their curtains are drawn. The sun is not let in.

Hands clasped around hers, the king reassures her before the broth is brought to her lips.

"This is what will save you, my love."

At her other hand is a young girl, ___ eyes brimming with tears as she watches her mother in pain. The past week has been awful and she has hardly left hers and her fathers side, barely even changed out of the flowing dress she wears as the princess - the heir - of the kingdom.

That young girl is you, before the burden of duty was set upon your shoulders and when the height of your problems only involved dresses with itchy sleeves. Before you knew of the world outside the castle, beyond the sea. Before you had a missing sister whose thread tugged at your mind endlessly. 

You watch as your father brings the golden broth to your mothers lips. You give her hand a final squeeze.

She drinks. 

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