where pilgrims are sinners, saints go to hell

7

She was in her favorite garden again today.

For some time, she had been visiting others, perhaps tired of going to the same one every day. But lately she had been coming back to it. It made him feel happy, but he couldn't explain why.

He decided to visit her again today.

Decided, because at some point he had accepted her company instead of continuing to pretend their every meeting was a mere coincidence.

When he arrived she was tending to something on one of the small tables, facing away from him. For once, she didn't notice when he came into the room.

"Good morning".

She jumped slightly and quickly turned around.

"Oh, hello, your highness!" she said, not moving from her spot.

"You do not write today?"

"Ah, no- I'm already done with that".

"Alright then".

They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, with her still not moving and looking tense, before she finally sighed.

"...I have something to confess, your majesty".

Confess? Oh, gods; conflict. He hoped it was nothing bad. He nodded.

She simply stepped aside.

On the table she had been working on laid her journal, the piece of charcoal she used to write in it, and... a glass jar filled with a clear yellow liquid, containing a single pale yellow rose.

He stared at the color, that although soft held a striking contrast to everything around it. Everything except her, of course.

"I'm sorry, my King, I'm afraid my curiosity got the better of me. I... know how much the flora of the palace means to you. I cannot defend my actions. I'm so sorry".

He barely heard her. White was pure. Black was pure. Everything in between wasn't. The entire palace and royal family were a monument to that purity. If in the old times anyone had dared willingly corrupt something of the palace -something of the queen- they would have been executed on the spot and by the King himself.

Now, however, was a different time; he supposed.

The White Lady wasn't around anymore, and he... had moved on, he realized in that instant.

"It's... okay".

"...what?"

"It's okay. It is but a flower. There's plenty more".

He approached it slowly as she looked at him in shock and mild fear. He hadn't stopped looking at it yet. It was so alien; so familiar and yet so new.

"...how did you accomplish this?"

"Oh- I found turmeric in the kitchens, and I mixed some of it into a bit of water to tint it. I wanted to test... I... because time doesn't actually pass in this realm, I wanted to see if the plants were alive in the same way as us -or, as me-, since I don't need nutritional sustain while I'm here. I wanted to see if the plants were getting it, and -well. Yes, they are".

"...impressive".

She looked like she was expecting to be blasted off the face of the planet any second.

"We really do mean it. We have studied this realm for quite some time now as well, but we never had thought about... the flora".

"Ah, well -um. Thank you, then, your majesty".

He kept observing the flower. It didn't look as out of place as he would have expected it to, next to the aged pages of the journal. Change really is the only constant, he supposed.

"...it does look pretty. It holds a nice contrast with the rest of the palace, too. It's been long since we had last seen "-he sneaked a glance at her-" this much color".

She seemed to hesitate. "Do you really like it, my King?"

He took a moment to think. He supposed it offered a nice rest for the eyes.

"...yes, we do. Do you think this could be accomplished with other colors as well?"

"As long as the water can be properly colored, it should be, yes".

"Then you have our permission to repeat this, if you so wish, and expand your palette within this one greenhouse you seem to like better than others".

He... wouldn't mind seeing more color around, honestly. He liked it. And he figured there was no harm in giving her a bit of creative freedom to make her favorite garden hers.

"Really? Thank you very much, my King" she said, smiling in disbelief. She visibly had to stop herself from bowing. "And, knowing that "-she reached for the flower and took it from the vase before offering it to him-" I would like you to keep this one".

His wings flared up in surprise. "Us? Why?"

"Well, you said you liked it. And since I can make more, I don't mind giving it away. In fact, I want you to have it. As thanks for letting me take this garden, in a way. And... for everything else. For letting me stay here, for lending me your conversation and your company. I know it's not much in comparison to it all, but it's a start".

He... wasn't expecting that at all. It felt kind of surreal, how she was the one thanking him. He was the one that had been in desperate need of company without even knowing suspecting it.

"...alright, we accept it. Thank you, " -and then he realized something. "Uh, do you have a title of any kind?" He couldn't believe he had been faring this entire time without having anything to call her by.

"Oh, no; my King. But I do have a name".

"Which is?"

"y/n, your highness".

y/n. It sounded as alien as she was. A perfect fit.

"Well met, then; y/n".

He caught himself smiling as he took the rose from her hands, and he could hear it in her voice, too.

"Well met, my King".