A tale of song, swords, and flowers

Edit, this story is now on hiatus, but I'm not abandoning it. I need to do some editing and some housekeeping on it, But I'm leaving it up as it is until further notice

Long ago in the land of Heptamir, there was a kingdom. In this kingdom there was a palace and in this palace there lived a king. this king had a family like kings often do, a beautiful wife and two lovely daughters. These little princesses were the light and laughter of the kingdom, the rose and daisy of Pascal. They would grow up to be beautiful young women the people would say, grow up to marry and carry on their families Legacy. The rose however was a bit different to her younger sister, preferring swords to sewing and battles to a ball.

Unbeknownst to all in the kingdom, the rose was not a rose at all, but a dandelion flourishing in the shadows, growing through cracks in the rigid stonework of proper behavior and expectations. There were times it was hard for the dandelion to keep up the walls of her blushing pedal façade, Times when the yellow would shine through. It was the daisy that helped in these times, excepting the young flowers differences without question. In the end it was she that helped the dandelion to fly free, far away from the field of their birth. This is the tale of truth, the truth of a dandelion.

(Or the story in which I take fantasy tropes, crack them over a bowl and scramble them like eggs in a frying pan.)