Quill & Ink

The Thorn King

On the top of a barren mountain resided a flower. A rose with petals black as night, spreading its roots all throughout the mountain. From its mighty roots blossomed a single rose, white and pure as starlight. Her beauty enchanted the Black Rose.
How the sunlight shone on her white petals, how the moonlight glistened them under its glow.
He desired her greatly and his love for her grew more and more. To the extent of obssession

One day the winds picked up on that great mountain. They monstrously played with the White Rose.
The Black Rose saw how distressed she was and so he grew more roots around her to protect her from the winds and she was grateful for his kindness.
Little they knew that the winds brought with them a kaleidoscope of thirsty Butterflies. They've flown for miles through valleys and fields, searching for food and coming empty.
From High above in the skies they saw a small, white dot down below. A closer look they realized it was a white rose, most likely filled with tasty nectar.
Mad with thrist, the Butterflies dove down, but seeing that there was only one for them all, they began to fight each other for the right to quench their mighty thirst.
The Black Rose, camouflaged by his dark color, saw this happening and yelled at them to let his beloved be.
Upon hearing the Black Rose's demands, the Butterflies began to fight even harder. For the claim of, not only the White Rose, but the Black Rose as well.
As if the great winds heard the distrssed flowers' cries, they blew harder taking with them the thrist crazed Butterflies, but the once clear mountain grounds were now marked with the blood evidence of battle.

There was one little Butterfly among the kaleidoscope that was smart enough to take shelter in the Black Rose's roots. When he emerged from his hidding place he took to the skies to find the flower his brethren fought over.
What he saw before him, under the shinning Sun, was the most beautiful white rose he had ever seen. He was so in love with her that he politely asked her permission to drink her nectar. She happily obliged, grateful for his gentleness.
Finally quenched from his thirst he thanked the White Rose by happily dancing around her.
The White Rose was so delighted by his joy that leaves sprouted all around her stem.
They were lost in each other and this the Black Rose saw. He was not happy with them being together. The White Rose was his. Only his. To see her praising another made him mad. This rage no sooner took form. Fueled by it, thorns burst all throughout his roots. The Black Rose used these lethal weapons to enclose his beloved and keep the intruding Butterfly away.
But the Butterfly's love for the White Rose was too great. With all his courage, he dove into the thorns to be with her. Alas... the thorns proved to be a mighty foe. In his venture, through the Black Rose's thorny shield, the Buttlerfly did indeed get to the White Rose. He looked down at her, smiling, hanging linply and almost lifeless, with a an angry thorn impaled in his thorax. As life began to leave the Butterfly, his blood dripped from his body and coated the pure, white petals of the rose as well as the seeds that resided in her, eclipsing her white purity to a red beauty.
The Butterfly was no more.

The now Red Rose wept her beloved's passing and longed to join him, but she soon would, because the Black Rose's thorns have encased her so well that no sunlight would touch her.
Through the sunless days she slowly withered away and her bloodied seeds fell to the ground. Thus a new life began.
The Red Rose's seeds, in the battle stained grounds, grew around the Black Rose's thorny empire and from the Red Rose's roots, blossomed many others. Giving the empty, thorny mountain the brightly red color of the passion that the Butterfly and the White Rose shared for each other.