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springbreezes-and-peonies · 10 days

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Thursday

Three years, seven months, four weeks and two days. That is how long it has been since the Queen of Floralia, glorious, beautiful, and—at one time—immensely kind Queen Sectonia, passed away. That is how long Taranza, now king of Floralia, has been widowed. And indeed, that is how long he has thought about her. How long he has tried to undo the damage the latter half of her reign did to the kingdom, indeed with his assistance…

Day by day, the kingdom heals under his patient, caring hands…He sees it blossom slowly again, growing back to being in harmony with nature as it is meant to be. Day by day he feels his subjects trust him and yes, even love him more and more. They were, many of them, very unsure of him at first. He was Queen Sectonia’s husband and advisor and in her darker years, the closest person to her. He completely understood the mistrust. He never pressured for it to leave. Never forced it to be a hushed, unspoken secret. Never fought any accusations or ugly talk thrown at him. ‘I deserve this. I have earned this.’ were often his thoughts, and he muddled through it all for the sake of the kingdom, a kingdom that he loved, his dearest home, no matter what was said about him in private or in person. Through all this he has, over time, cultivated a loving, loyal, and close bond with his people. Once spoken of as “Queen Sectonia’s Puppet”, “Queen Sectonia’s Stand-In” by the people, he is now regarded as “The Gardener King” and while he is not one to let compliments or pretty words go to his head and inflate his ego, he cannot help but feel a small sense of pride in his work when he hears this title after all the pain and all the strife, he does occasionally find himself smiling at the thought of such a name for him.

However he has heard another, perhaps less commonly spoken title for himself: “The Heartbroken King”. This is a name that cuts deep. This is a name that hits as a heavy pang in his heart for he knows it cannot be denied. It is perhaps a more true honorific than “Gardener King” and it leaves him weary and sorrowful whenever it reaches his ears. It is true. Very true. The grief he feels over his Queen, his wife’s death is…indescribable, unimaginable, even after all this time, all these three years, seven months, four weeks, and two days it is a near impossible feeling for him to even begin to navigate. For a time he didn’t. For a time…he instead tried to bring her back. He tried every manner of things he could think of to bring her back to life. He traveled to dark dimensions, lonely reflections of worlds, empty valleys of the Lower World teeming with magic, indeed he searched every edge of every corner of every star in the endless shadow of space to find something, some way, to bring her back to life, only to come back to the castle and to his people empty handed and alone, with his heart in pieces in his chest. And he could only do this so many times. Twenty. Fifty. One hundred. It was enough. And so, he reluctantly agreed with himself to stop. To not try again. To not break his own heart again in failing to do the impossible. To accept her death, and to move on. And well…he hasn’t tried again.

Now it is a Thursday, a day he considers to be extremely unlucky, and a day on his calendar where he has it marked that he is to check an island on the outskirts of the sky kingdom’s archipelago, for well…anything. He had been reading and studying in the castle library up on the kingdom’s history and on a very old map he saw a tiny island far on the outskirts of the kingdom that was at one point, accounted for in Floralia’s records. Yet he has never once heard from anyone who might live there, he has seen every island in the archipelago in person but not this one, he has never even been aware of its existence and this concerns him greatly. He worries something dark may be being covered up, something concealed during his queen’s reign, or that he has subjects there being neglected, in need of assistance. He vowed to himself he would not risk one of his people. He would travel to the island himself, and indeed he means to. A bag is packed for him by one of his servants, which he gathers up, smiling politely to them.

“I have left word with King Dedede of the Lower World of my endeavors to travel to the unmarked isle. He shall be in correspondence with the guardians here at the castle to ensure all is well and that I return home safely.” Taranza relays to the servant kindly.

“Be careful majesty.” The servant replies, patting the pack at Taranza’s back gently. “There are dark things out there in the world, as you well know. Your people do not wish for you to go alone…You should be bringing guards with you, but I understand you don’t want to endanger any of us……” He shakes his head, looking to Taranza, concerned.

“I will be fine. I have my magic, and I can look after myself.” He smiles good-naturedly. “My people are not to suffer the burdens of the crown. This is my responsibility as king, and as king, I will take care of it. Come what may.” He sighs, and takes a deep breath. He reassures his servants and his subjects for awhile longer as they make sure he is thoroughly packed up, before he leaves the safety and lofty heights of the castle, floating down the Royal Road and out into the unknown…

He feels an odd levity about the entire business of journeying to this strange and unknown place. For a moment at least, he’ll be away from things. Away from the castle, away from the people. Away. ‘Away from the halls we walked…the balconies we kissed on…the gardens we tended together when things were right and peaceful and good. Away from that castle where I’ve experienced everything good I ever will…and everything painful I ever have…’. He sighs heavily as he thinks to himself, as he often does when he’s alone, and as he often does, he reaches into his emerald green cloak, thinks his soft, warm thoughts of love and sorrow, and materializes his dream blossom, all he has left of his Queen. He holds the flower close to his heart, carefully caressing its delicate, pink, petals, gazing at it as he takes in its fragrance. So much like her. It is so much like her. He shakes his head, keeping the blossom close to his chest as he continues on, finding some small comfort in its presence in his grasp.

They were fated, he and her. At least that is what he thought at the time. He grew up in the castle walls alongside her, her dearest friend, her confidant, her sometimes terrified tag-along. Any trouble she got in, he was there with her, either to take the fall or lessen the burden for her. As they grew, his closeness with her did as well, and he never stopped trailing just behind her in everything they did…and everyone took notice. They were fated…yes indeed…or perhaps…they were star-crossed…

He sighs sorrowfully, a wave of melancholy washing over him again. He shrugs, and slowly shakes it off, continuing his drifting through the clouds, searching for this far island that lies at the outskirts of his kingdom…He tucks his dream blossom back into his cloak…

Several hours pass as he continues on in contemplative thought, his mind working through many things. Heavy feelings, the burdens of his reign, how he will progress for his people and most prominently: what will he find on this island? And then, after all these hours float slowly by, he sees it at last.

There amongst the clouds, a small, emerald island, blooming with plant life, absolutely covered in flowers and trees and vines. Taranza looks the island over from where he floats in the sky, and sees little to no signs of civilization or architecture or any life outside of the vegetation…He tilts his head curiously, thinking a moment, and decides to continue his descent.

After approaching for a few more minutes, he makes a safe landing and gathers himself, taking a sharp, focused look at his surroundings. He is cautious, and very aware as he disembarks this strange, new, place, but so far he does not see any signs of anything threatening. Indeed, he does not see any signs of anything at all, outside of the plant life.

Taranza walks on curiously for a time, looking all around him at the beautiful but lonely island. Wildflowers of every color imaginable carpet the ground, and once he is clear of the tree line and out in the open fields, he can see well-kept flower beds growing peacefully along old, neglected pathways…Wait. Well-kept flower beds.

The curious king stops suddenly, a look of surprise forming on his face. He approaches one of the flowerbeds, a bed of strictly peonies, all in creamy pink…He bends down and looks at them closely, brushing his fingers lightly over their petals. They are weeded, healthy, well-tended…’For these flowers to be growing this way…someone is actively tending them. Recently. Someone is here, living on this island. But who…? And where? This place…it’s beautiful but lonely…Who would I ever find living out here…?’ He thinks, his mind whirring with possibilities, and he looks all around him again for more signs of civilization or even just for people. But for now, he sees nothing but the healthy flowerbeds. He hesitates a moment, and decides to venture on. ‘If I do indeed have subjects here, they may be in need of me. I wonder how they’d be doing here…? Maybe they fled during Sectonia’s reign…’ His thoughts race as he continues his journey, traversing the island, scanning it with his eight eyes as best he can.

A couple more hours pass, and it is now late afternoon, and he has seen nothing more interesting at all, until he comes upon what looks like a stone ruins…He approaches, and touches at its dusty, rocky, exterior…It looks like an old cathedral or something of equal importance, completely caved in on itself. He walks around the old, ruined, vine covered structure and can see bits of broken stained glass on the ground beside it, around it…He fishes a piece carefully out of the grass, brushes the soft dirt from it and can see…what looks like a knight with a barn-owl shaped helm…Taranza raises an eyebrow in curiosity and surprise. He’s never seen the image of this person before, not in any of Floralia’s history or art books. Certainly not in the royal library. He retrieves his pack from his back, gathers a piece of cloth from it, and after wrapping the piece of stained-glass up in the cloth, he puts it into his pack and continues on. An odd sense of dis-ease grips at him, like tiny hands grasping at his back the longer he stays by this ruins, and so he decides to swiftly leave it behind. He will investigate it later, more thoroughly, with others with him.

More time passes with no more signs of anything pointing to anyone else being here. ‘But all these flowerbeds…And that ruins. Someone must live here. With those flowerbeds like that, someone is living here NOW surely…’ He is lost, deep in thought, and as he walks he stumbles a little suddenly, catching himself. He takes a deep breath, having startled himself and he sees he’s come to the edge of the sky island. He sighs, and decides to sit down and rest a moment, gazing out at the empty, endless sky, stretching out before him. A subtle sense of frustration is hitting him. A feeling as if he’s missing something, something important, something obvious. Something. ‘How can there be no one here? How have I not caught anyone here at all tending the flowers or going about their day or even accidentally running into me?? Are they just by chance CONSTANTLY where I am not or where I’ve only just been? Am I constantly in their shadow and they in mine? It makes no sense! I’m an excellent scout! I used to be the only one she’d trust to…to…’ his thoughts become rushed, irrational, upsetting, and as he feels himself getting more and more frustrated with himself, he suddenly hears a loud crash of thunder as a heavy downpour of rain falls from the sky upon him. In all his contemplations, he did not even notice the silvering of the clouds following him all day.

Taranza feels the rain dropping down on him hard, in buckets. His cloak is quickly soaked through, his red-knit scarf drenched, his silver hair plastered to his face from the rain. Anger bubbles up inside him and his fangs click in all his rage and upset as he feels a hard, agitated, cry bellow out from him, loud and heavy into the air around him. ‘It’s just one more thing! It’s always just one more thing!’ He tears at the grass with his six hands in his disgruntled state, tossing it around him before shaking his head and curling himself up to sit once more, defeated. ‘This weather, I should’ve just left hours ago. There’s nothing even here, and I…I can’t fly home in this! I’ll be zapped all to bits!’

“AGH!!” He cries out again, aggrieved and disappointed. He sits still, letting the rain fall on him, not feeling the drive to move or seek shelter, knowing he probably won’t find any, anyway…

“Excuse me? Are you…alright?”

Taranza gasps hard in shock at the sound of the soft, friendly voice speaking to him, and his head spins quickly to look up from where he sits. As he turns his gaze in the direction of the voice, he can see its source is a Floralian like himself, a woman with a moth-like appearance. Her petal-pink skin dotted with a constellation of sun-gold freckles and her head is crowned with cotton-candy pink hair in which rests two, saffron, fuzzy, moth antennae. She wears a tiered, flowy, pink and yellow dress and seems unbothered by the heavy rain now pouring around them, a curious expression is obvious in her countenance as she gazes at Taranza with two, sparkling, sunset pink eyes.

Taranza feels his mind freeze a moment seeing her. All day, he’s seen no one here, no one on this lonely island but himself, and now…this strange, warm-voiced, beautiful woman appears. He doesn’t know what to say. He just stares. And he feels his heart shake in his chest as she speaks again.

“Hello??? I said are you okay??” She asks, her voice and countenance still curious but also, oddly warm and kind. She brings her face close to his, VERY close, tilting her head, looking him over curiously. She brushes some of his wet, silver hair from his face to clear his vision and continues looking him over, concerned.

A warmth floods his cheeks as he feels her face so close to his, feels her hands touch his hair and move it from his face. He shakes his head and clears his throat, speaking at last.

“I…I-I…I…” He stammers at first, clumsily, then he shakes his head again, fixing his wet scarf nervously, gathering his nerve. “I am…alright.” He nods, furrowing his brow. “Just wet.” He adds, gazing at her, taking in her appearance, her face still so very close to his own. He’s never had a stranger bring themselves so close to him so casually. He can feel the pink blossoming on his cheeks more. ‘If she doesn’t back up soon, my face is going to match hers…’

The moth-girl’s lips curl into a friendly smile as he speaks at last, and she nods her head happily to him. “Oh I’m glad! I heard you screaming a ways off, I was scared, but I decided to check on you anyway to be sure you weren’t hurt. Are you hurt???” She asks, and she speaks so casually, so quickly, as if she’s known him for years now and they’ve not only just met moments ago. She takes three of his hands in three of hers, turning them over, inspecting them carefully, and she flits and circles round him, looking him all over for any scrapes and bruises, ensuring he isn’t actually hurt.

Taranza can feel the blood rushing to his face, as she flits so closely all around him and touches and turns him over as if it were the most natural and normal thing in the world. He covers his cheeks with two of his hands and scoots slowly from her radius.

“I-I’m quite alright! Not hurt at all miss!” He speaks, his voice a little higher than he’d like it to be in all his shyness and bluster.

“Peony!” She says, smiling warmly, sitting down beside him in the rain.

“Peony??? Yes, I did see some peonies earlier today.” Taranza responds, confused by her outburst, and at his words, the moth-girl giggles playfully, shaking her head, her pink curls bouncing as she does.

“No! Me! I’m Peony. It’s my name.” She explains, laughing a little more. Her laughter is so sunny, so clear…like the most tender spring breeze…Taranza can’t help but to smile a little too, despite himself, at the sound of her laugh.

“O-oh. I…I’m Taranza.” He says, a little more calm in her presence now. She seems so friendly, so warm to be around.

“Taranza??? KING Taranza???” Peony gasps, a little stunned by this revelation.

Taranza feels the warmth rushing to his cheeks again at her surprised reaction. He scratches the back of his head, smiling a little awkwardly. He knows his reputation somewhat precedes him, and it’s not always good. He nods and speaks a little shakily.

“Y-yeah…that’s me. The very same…”

Peony gasps again at this, rising to her feet and curtsying formally to him, raindrops spilling from the ruffles on her dress.

“Oh majesty! Forgive me for any rudeness! I…It’s quite an honor to make your acquaintance sire!” She curtsies quickly again, her voice still warm and polite, if a little frantic now.

Taranza shakes his head, rising to his feet as well. “Oh no Miss Peony, I…there’s no need for all that. Honest! I know I’m…I’m…King…” He pauses, saying this was still rather difficult for him to do. He continues. “But I’m still just a person like anyone else! You don’t have to show me any extra grace.” He smiles awkwardly again, gesturing with his six hands insistently.

Peony smiles sweetly, looking him over, she then frowns at the sight of him drenched in rain, with more and more pouring down.

“Majesty? Will you wait here a moment? I’ll be right back, I’m going to get something to help with the rain.” She smiles, her smile is so soft and sweet, but Taranza can see it belies something more…something wild, untouchable, and free. He nods his head, finding himself a little speechless again, and he watches as at her back two, effervescent, shimmering, pink and gold moth wings materialize…They sparkle a moment, light passing through them in their translucence, their magical nature evident. His white primary eyes widen and glow as he watches her flutter off quick as can be on her wings to fetch him ‘something to help with the rain…’

He waits patiently, and he finds himself really hoping for her return. Not to keep the rain from him, but for her presence. Something about her feels…comforting…? Maybe it is her friendly nature, maybe it is that she is so very different from all he’s ever known, he cannot say, but his eyes trace the horizon line in search of her pink form, and his heart beats a little faster as he sees her finally appear, flitting back to him once more.

“Here!” She says, that same warm smile blooming on her pretty pink face. She holds out a very large, sturdy leaf over the two of them, sheltering them both from the rain. Taranza looks up at the leaf in surprise, standing close beside her underneath its sheltering canopy.

“Oh…Thank you Miss Peony. You’re very kind to be so hospitable to me…” he smiles faintly, still not entirely sure what to think of her while also feeling a sense of captivation in her company.

Peony giggles again, smiling so playfully to him. “You’re my king! I’d never leave anyone out in the pouring rain, much less my king.” She replies. “Majesty, if you’d like, I could take you to my home! Then you can sit and rest out of this storm all you need.” She continues, such a sweet, inviting manner to her speech.

“Oh but I…I wouldn’t want to intrude…” Taranza stammers shyly, he can feel his cheeks flowering with blush once again. Peony merely shakes her head in response to this.

“It’s not intrusive. I’d love to have some company…” She says, her voice uncharacteristically soft, her fingers lightly playing with the satin, pink, bow she wears round her neck, and as he looks at her face…is it…pinker than usual? He shakes his head.

“Well, if it’s no trouble I…I suppose. Lead the way then dear lady.” He smiles, and before they begin walking he feels two of Peony’s six hands slip tenderly to his own, holding them so gently…their fingers interlace. His eyes open wide again, and his cheeks feel as if they are burning but he makes no remark. Something in him…it doesn’t want her hands to leave his.

“So you don’t get lost…” She says in explanation…her voice so soft…like listening to…well, to soft rain dropping onto flower petals…He nods his head in agreement, clearing his throat. “Not that I couldn’t find you.” She adds, a little playfully. “But I’d hate you to be all alone in the storm…”

Taranza blushes even more at this…her saying she could find him…her warm, inviting personality, but his mind lingers on her last remark, and he can’t help but wonder gently. “…But…weren’t you all alone in the storm???” He asks, slightly perplexed.

Peony nods, her smile appearing a little sorrowful now, she speaks plainly, quietly.

“I was.”

Taranza is quiet at this, feeling something like a mutual understanding washing over them both. A sense of empathy. A connection. He continues on with her quietly. After several moments in silence, he feels her two hands holding his squeeze them very tenderly…affectionately. A small smile grows on his face in response, reaching all the way to every one of his eight eyes.

‘Thursday.’ He sighs, deep in thought. ‘Perhaps Thursday is not so unlucky after all.’