Flowers For My Beloved

Source of My Joy - Lae'zel

"Lae'zel?"

She turned to you, putting down the blade she was sharpening. "Zhak vo'n'fynh duj, speak. What do you need of me?"

"Here. I wanted to give you this."

Her gaze lowered, her brows furrowing, and she stared at the bouquet for a good, long minute. She then took the bouquet, her grip strong. She looked like she didn't know what to do with it.

"Flowers." She stated simply, "Why have you decided to give me such fragile things?"

You smiled. "From where I'm from, we would give people flowers to show that we love them."

Her eyes widened, and she turned to the bouquet with a renewed understanding. Now she seemed steadfast to not let go of it.

"...It is an impractical way to show affection." She admitted. "But it is a gesture that is... greatly appreciated."

She turned the bouquet over several times, observing it from several angles. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted a particular flower, and she pointed at it.

"This is a flower you wasted a day to find."

You smiled wryly at that.

"Why this flower specifically?" She asked.

"Also from where I'm from," you laughed, "we have this fancy little thing called the Language of Flowers. Each flower has a meaning, and you are telling a person something when you give those flowers to them."

She grabbed your arm. "Tell me what they mean."

And her eyes were bright, fierce, like the sun, burning with the passion to know. Gods, she was beautiful like this. If she wasn't so eager to know, you might've taken a moment to admire her. But well, admittedly, you were also quite excited to tell her what they meant.

"These are gladioluses," you gestured to the bright white and yellow flowers at the outermost layer of the bouquet, "they mean struggle."

She frowned at that.

"But they also mean strength, pride, and victory."

"Hmm..." It was a growl-like sort of sound, coming deep from her throat. She eyed the flowers with a meticulously sharp gaze, concentrated on remembering each and every detail. You smiled. From the looks of it, she seemed to really like them.

"You're one of the strongest women I know, Lae'zel." You continued, then laughed as she nodded fiercely in agreement. You placed a hand on her cheek, feeling your heart stir as you looked at all the scars that marred her skin. "You've struggled, and struggled, so much, yet it had not weakened you. You are strong. Nothing can stand in your way."

"And I admire the pride you have in yourself. In your people. In everything that you are." You closed your eyes. Somehow, you were the one feeling bashful, when you were the one doing all the complimenting. But you continued anyway. "And I admire your desire for victory."

"To live is to have purpose. I do not regret the life that I have lived." She replied.

"And I'm all the more happy that you're the way you are." You laughed. "Though I admit, when I first met you, you were a tad bit intimidating."

"Only a tad?"

"Fine. You were very intimidating."

She smirked, taking your words in stride, before pointing to the next kind of flowers. "These?"

"Those are alyssums. They mean worth beyond beauty." You explained.

She seemed surprised at that. Surprised that you would call her beautiful.

"You are beautiful, my love." You affirmed, "More than I can describe. You are that, and everything more."

She seemed to consider your words, her head tilting in thought. She raised a hand and touched the alyssums, carefully, gently, the most gentle you've ever seen her be.

"I am beautiful." She stated. There was something good in that statement, to see that she truly meant it. She looked at you, a hint of a smile tugging on her lips. "You are beautiful. Together, we are beautiful. And strong."

"...I should compliment you more, if it makes you this nice."

She scoffed, though she was more amused than annoyed. She looked at the final flower, the one she meant before, right at the very center of the bouquet. "And this?"

"That is called a bird of paradise. It means joy and paradise. Do you... do you know why I chose that flower?"

"I know. And I understand." She answered, but despite that, she looked wholly expectant. "But tell me. I want to hear it from your lips."

You looked at her, at her eyes. Eyes that were warm, and strong, and fierce. She was everything, and yet here she was. There was such love in her eyes that it made you breathless.

"You are my joy." You whispered, but it didn't feel enough. You repeated the words in your head, wanting to get it right, wanting it to make her happy as happy as it made you. "You are zhak vo'n'fynh duj, and you are my paradise."

She stood still, her chest unmoving, unbreathing. And then she finally moved, wrapping her arm around your neck and kissing you with purpose, with desire, with ferocity. She held you like she didn't want to let go. She held you like you were everything.

"I have no flowers to give you," she seemed almost saddened by that, but her resolve strengthened, the conviction clear in her eyes. "But I will give you my body. My love. My soul."

"I am yours." She leaned forward and kissed you on the lips once more. "As you are mine."