The Queen And The Flower

finale

Castle life was hard to get used too. Though I'd spent the first fourteen years of my life wreaking havoc on a castle several kingdoms away, it was far different here. Here I could eat whenever I was hungry, and my bed was more than just a cot on the ground. Here I had clothes specially tailored to me, a bed that felt like I was laying on a cloud and as many blankets as I wanted.
Crissa, a sweet old maid that had been assigned to me, appeared at my shoulder every morning to make sure I'd eaten and was properly dressed. I think I nearly gave her a heart attack the first morning when I walked out in tights and a dress with the skirt cut off.
The first dinner we shared, the queen quietly admit that her name wasn't Lucy. It was Elodie. She was startled when I laughed so hard I spilt my goblet of water. Every night and every morning she sat me down in the garden and brushed my hair. I was sure this was supposed to be Crissa's job, but I never said anything, instead enjoying the way her fingertips brushed against my neck. At night, she sang, the combination of her sweet lullabies and gentle touches lulling me gently to sleep. Then she would kiss my cheek and tell me to get to bed, with the promise that she would see me tomorrow.
When we were finally wed, I found the whole ceremony tedious and lame. Not that I told anyone. Not that I did much more than smile politely at anyone. I didn't really know anyone.
I was finally let into Elodie's room that night, and I was quite thrilled to curl up beside her. She giggled, far too giddy to sleep, and covered my face in gentle kisses while I rested my hands on her hips. She was so soft, so solid against me. Butterflies danced around my chest and I felt warm from the inside out.
On the anniversary of her parents death, Elodie didn't sleep, instead curling up in my lap to shake and sob, pressing a ring to her lips and murmuring. I held her and comforted her until something inside her broke and she told me what I never expected to heard.
My soft little Elodie, my strong, brave wife, sobbed into my shoulder and told me all about the poison she'd poured into her parents drinks. I asked her why, and I just couldn't understand when she told me it was so that she could have me.
Every now and then I take a walk through my old neighborhood. I stop by the bakers to watch Ray and Dein squirm and avoid eye contact while I buy bread. I buy a bag of apples to go with it, and then I find some hungry kids. I always know where they are.
One day, I decided to go back to the building I lived in front two years. Back up the dumbwaiter to the room I hid Eloide for a day. When I arrived, I was surprised to find a lady sitting in the center of the room. At first all I saw was a silhouette, her impressively long black hair shining in the afternoon light and pooling around her. She turned when I stepped out of the dumbwaiter, her slim face lighting up when she saw me. I tried to speak, but I couldn't find my voice. She stood, her white gown absolutely glowing against her tan skin.
She smiled softly and held out her hands to me. In them rested a clay slate, about the size of my face. On it, immaculately painted, was a face made up of three lines twisted into a frown.
I finally had both of them again.
Tears leaked down my face. I wasn't sure why, really. I was absolutely thrilled to have it back again, but I was hardly so overcome with emotion that I would cry.
I looked back up hoping I would be able to thank her. There was no woman though, only a large, six petaled, pink-ish red flower, dancing in the gentle breeze.
Amaryllis.