The flower prince

Snow

Cold, heat, pain.
The child's skin tingles and trembles, wrapped, torn, and stitched back together by the lashings of winter frost.
He wanders through the blizzard that propels him and, at other times, bends him, exhausted by the cruel snow that, shortly behind, erases his path.
Lost in the endless white, weak, he staggers and stumbles in search of a light, a comfort. He begs for affection and love, a maternal embrace for so long taken for granted and now painfully pleading for.
The child cries, but the voice does not resonate. It is lost in the blizzard, as is its pain.
He fumbles for a few more steps, but the footsteps are thinner. The last one marks surrender and his self vanishes, leaving only a nameless silhouette.

We shall call him Prince of Nothingness, the progeny of a king who does not exist and lord of a kingdom without lands or borders.
Fallen, forgotten, and alone, he fled from the warmth of a world empty.
A world to be filled with new colors, sought in the wildest lands, on the most rugged heights, and in the innermost depths.
In that very abyss, the prince lost himself, also vanishing into that distant cold.
He is a ruler who does not think, naively acts, and childishly laments the consequences. Even at the point of death, he could be heard screaming, railing, about how the world was unfair and how that crown of his was nothing but waste paper.

The blizzard covers him and carries him far away.
A distant memory, soon to be forgotten.
The prince of nothingness is now an invisible nameless shadow, mourned by the icy wail of the blizzard that was once his enemy.

Time passes, and winter night gives way to spring light.

The white melts and the earth resurfaces, finding its joy more serenely. The sun rises warmly above the verdant foliage of the trees, shining with golden light and infusing new life and form into the forgotten shadows.

Nestled in that splendor, a small silk bundle rests tired, still numb from its untimely awakening.

Greeted by the chirping of birds, lulled by the rustling of the wind, and soothed by the roaring of the river, the prince awakens from his prolonged repose.
Confused and astonished, he walks through the soft dark envelope, seeking and yearning for a bit of light and a dip of color. With some effort, the child walks through that fabric festively adorned with aromas, fruits, and flowers.
The world appears new to him, so unique and, at the same time, different.

A place of peace, where he can lie down in the shade of a tree and forget the screams of the blizzard by closing his eyes and listening to the simple song of nature.
The prince knows that the kingdom will not last forever and that winter will return sooner or later, but he does not care because now he knows that under that white lies his true kingdom.
The Kingdom of the Flower Prince.

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Art by #Oberon (Gelbooru)