Fiona came slowly and with shadows in her eyes, but she came. She did not come alone, thankfully, but with a welcome companion at her side. Atreus, who her lilac eyes rested on more than once in their travels. Yet when her gaze finally alighted on Florentine she felt equal parts worry and relief. Relief that she was healing, doing better. Worry because this was not the celebration they were hoping for. The queen they all knew, and the one that knew them, was gone. Perhaps forever. Fiona had heard the whispered words nobody seemed willing to admit aloud, but she had hoped. Oh, had she hoped.
The lavender girl stood silently in the gathered crowd, listening to each word fall like raindrops to the ground. This was not a flood they could recover from as quickly, she thought. Things, possessions, homes, those could be replaced, but friendships could not. She thought of who had been lost, and who perhaps had not been well enough to make the journey out of the hospital or the castle, and Fiona found she had no words even had she been able to speak them. Instead there was only the broken truth: she had never felt so helpless in her life. Even as a child when her mother decided she no longer wanted Fiona and left. Even when her father, the one constant in her life until then, had died. Something in the flower girl was inexplicably different.
It is not the small scars and nicks covering her face and legs, healing and healed. It is not the bandage wrapped around her middle, protecting the dressings over the deep wound on her side. It is something inside her, something unseen, yet unlike Florentine she remembered all too well. A shiver passed over her skin like a breeze, unbidden, and Fiona stepped closer to the man at her side without thought other than she found comfort in his presence. She thought she might not have made it if Atreus hadn't been standing outside her house that day. If he hadn't come for her as he had. She could never repay him for the gift he had given her: her life.
Then, Flora stepped down and Fiona thought, would things ever be the same? And a quiet voice in her whispered no. Perhaps, then, she needed to accept that more things were different, that more people had changed in the wake of the storm. Asterion, she knew, thought sh did not know him well, would make a fine King or their people. He had stood by the court longer than some, and even longer by Florentine's side. In his hands she was sure they would make their way through and out on the other side of this. Still, Fiona could not help but wonder, would she ever reach the other side where she could smile and rejoice again?
The lavender girl stood silently in the gathered crowd, listening to each word fall like raindrops to the ground. This was not a flood they could recover from as quickly, she thought. Things, possessions, homes, those could be replaced, but friendships could not. She thought of who had been lost, and who perhaps had not been well enough to make the journey out of the hospital or the castle, and Fiona found she had no words even had she been able to speak them. Instead there was only the broken truth: she had never felt so helpless in her life. Even as a child when her mother decided she no longer wanted Fiona and left. Even when her father, the one constant in her life until then, had died. Something in the flower girl was inexplicably different.
It is not the small scars and nicks covering her face and legs, healing and healed. It is not the bandage wrapped around her middle, protecting the dressings over the deep wound on her side. It is something inside her, something unseen, yet unlike Florentine she remembered all too well. A shiver passed over her skin like a breeze, unbidden, and Fiona stepped closer to the man at her side without thought other than she found comfort in his presence. She thought she might not have made it if Atreus hadn't been standing outside her house that day. If he hadn't come for her as he had. She could never repay him for the gift he had given her: her life.
Then, Flora stepped down and Fiona thought, would things ever be the same? And a quiet voice in her whispered no. Perhaps, then, she needed to accept that more things were different, that more people had changed in the wake of the storm. Asterion, she knew, thought sh did not know him well, would make a fine King or their people. He had stood by the court longer than some, and even longer by Florentine's side. In his hands she was sure they would make their way through and out on the other side of this. Still, Fiona could not help but wonder, would she ever reach the other side where she could smile and rejoice again?
My girl ;; Tagging @Atreus for the mentions
