Chapter 11 - She who was loved

He was of humble origins. He lived alone with his mother and never met his father. No, it would be more correct to say that he didn’t remember his father. For he had died out on the battlefield before he could even form memories.

So his memories of his father took on the form of a sword. It was not a special sword but a standard issue sword of the Defenders of Dernier. It was displayed in the back of his family’s flower shop. His family being only comprised of his mother and him but it was enough. He didn’t wish for more. He was happy working with his mother at the Vielle Flower Shop.

She was known from a family of knights. Individually, they did not write their names in the history book but hearing their name, people immediately thought of knights. They filled the ranks of the Defenders of Dernier, generation after generation.

She fought and fought against the Stéle because that was all she knew. Her father, grandfather, brothers, cousins, and even mother had decided so. She never questioned them. After all, they were family. But everyone craves recognition. Her own family accepts her victories as expected. When she met with others not of her blood, she needed to bring up her own achievements first before anyone gives any words of affirmation.

But their words felt hollow filled with only half pity. She didn’t like the feeling of bragging. So she kept her mouth shut. So she fought in silence. She didn’t wish for more.

One day, he was closing up the shop as normal. She was walking by tired from fighting the Stéle once more. Tired from watching more allies die. Tired from watching everyone else seemingly enjoying the trial called life. And he knew.

Once he started being able to form memories, many knights came to visit his family’s shop. They would talk with his mother and buy flowers. He’s ashamed to remember but he used to hate them when they visited. He took it as pity and felt shameful. But as he grew older. He found appreciation for their visits. They would reminiscence with his mother and buy flowers for their loved ones. But he had a thought: Who was buying flowers for them?

Her listlessness reminded him of the knights who would visit after losing more than they wanted, more than they wish they could keep. So he gave her one. A flower.

It was her initial instinct to think it was another act of pity. For she was too young and foolhardy to understand that pity was merely a clumsy disguise for love. She refused. He insisted. She hesitated. He spoke.

He spoke of his father who he didn’t know. He spoke of his father the knights told him about. He spoke of his father who fought to protect the small flower shop, him, and his mother – all things he held dear. So he thanked her for doing the same.

And so, she finally made a wish.

She returned to her family who were preoccupied with training and spoke about her wish. They were not happy. They listed other renowned martial families, families with influence on society, and families whose homes dwarfed those of a small flower shop. But it was her first wish. And they shunned it as such. So she did not speak up. She couldn’t.

She could have chosen a different route home but chose not to. She had made another wish – a second wish. And he fulfilled it. Another flower. A kinder smile than any anyone has shown her. And she cried.

Surprise, worry, confusion. He was afraid he did something wrong, but she reassured him it was nothing. But he was still concerned. So she told him. About her first wish. He grew red. She was pretty, very pretty, but he didn’t want people to think he was that shallow. He didn’t want to think he was shallow. So she offered to show more of her. In exchange, he would show more of him.

So the two met in secret. Although, it was really only her meeting in secret. His mother was kind to her in a way unknown to her. He was gentle with her in a way unimaginable to her. She was stunning when she talked about the things that she did like. She spoke of music especially jazz and her wish to sell records. He spoke of a beautiful flower and then the plants the flower shop grew. She was flushed to hear his words and was worried he spoke the same way to others. But he assured her there were none.

The two would visit tea shops at his recommendation. His mother told him all about the benefits of tea and he wished all the benefits for her. So she drank even though they were all bitter to her. But he was perceptive and added sugar to her cup. And one day, they shared a wish.

And so the day came when she had to talk to her family once more about her first wish. They rebuked her. They threatened that she wouldn’t live in a home with more than one bedroom, that she wouldn’t eat the quality she was used to, that she wouldn’t wear the name they shared with them. But she was okay with the. For those were not her wish. So she left them for they were strangers now.

He and she became one. They had fulfilled each other’s first wish together. He smiled thinking that such happiness came from such a small action. She reassured him saying that’s life. So they named their blessing as such.

She was a quiet one. One who seemingly didn’t cry but smiled though only occasionally. They were worried about her but loved her all the same for she shared a little bit of him and a little bit of her. The small flower shop more than doubled in occupants but they didn’t care.

Time passed. His mother left him to handle the shop by himself and she held him until he was no longer crying in his heart for his tear ducts were dry. Time continued. The young one learned to walk, eventually to run, and soon to speak. She spoke of her wish that her mother stayed at home with her father. She spoke of her wish to take her place so that they could be happy. They were worried that her wish didn’t include herself but she reassured them that it was okay.

But they lived in the South. She was still in the academy grown pretty like her mother, grown gentle like her father. But then she heard. Heard of the news of the unimaginable. And so she ran. Ran back home like her mother. Ran back home to see her father. And there they were.

They were holding each other tenderly. They were smiling in each other’s arms. They were… now of stone. She cried, unable to accept that she couldn’t have her wish. She cried.

He had saved many but couldn’t save whom she loved. He apologized to her. But a piece of her had already twisted. She had a wish, hope even, but that was ripped away. She cried because she dreamed. So she took it out on him. Broke him to a level he couldn’t stand. Until he became known as the Broken Sword to her. But he did not blame her. He accepted it all as his sins.

Time passed. She moved away from the South and into the Central District she despised. She chose an unusual home.

The memories of her father took the form of a greenhouse. The memories of her mother took the form of a vinyl record. The memories of their love took the form of tea. She locked them away in a steel cage of rust-washed windows.