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“I can assure you Miss me and these little fellas mean no harm! Just don’t eat them!”
"Why would I eat rose petals?" Sheila asked before realizing Sunny Bunny would. "I will promise I won't, but I'll do my best that my bunny kid doesn't"
She opened the door and looked down to the rose petals again.
There was a knock at the safety door.
"If you mean malice, you'd better tell me now," Sheila stated, getting her Marcel Mercy Maker and clipping it onto her belt, juuuuuust in case. Sheila stared and waited, scared for what the weird sentient flower petals would say or do.
She heard tiny tapping noises behind her.
When she turned around she saw the rose petals had a single eye on ear of them and small vine like tendrils.
Sheila was extremely scared, sealing off the hallway they were in with a safety door after tapping her watch. "That's enough eldritch horror until I figure out what the hell to do."
GUYS I DONT HAVE TO DRAW ROSES ANYMORE
Rose Monster Lover: Blanchfleur 2
Blanchfleur thinks about the past and the tumultuous romance they shared before their current lover.
Part One
Nonbinary Reader/Monster x Nonbinary Monster
Before I met my wife, there was another. Working in the gardens of the royal palace, I came across my fair share of people who wandered through the roses, admiring their beauty and perfume, or simply wanting to escape the bickering of the royal family. I’ve been around for a long time, since Bellerophon was king and Merah Muda had brown hair.
But before Alise came into my life and made it new, there was someone else I found amongst the roses. Someone I loved very dearly, and for a time made me never want to love again.
There was a time in Miror when the weather was constantly overcast, murky, and shrouded in mist. The usual color of the land was dimmed and the bright hues were toned with gray. The ground was constantly soggy and muddy, and the gardens were suffering for it. My roses were drooping and sad. The land wasn’t so much flooded as it was oversaturated; the air, the walls, the ground, were sodden. And much like a cake, all of Miror was sagging under this extra moisture.
Usually, at this point in the year, the palace was full of all sorts of flowers. Every table had its own bouquet of roses, and it didn’t matter where the table was placed. But now the castle was quite empty, and even though the prince had just been born and celebration was in order, there were not enough roses in the garden for even a single bouquet.
“Such a sad thing,” Bellerophon sighed as he took a tour of the garden. “All this damp, and even the roses are fed up with it.”
“I have tried everything, sir, but we need the sun!” I motioned to the clouds above us. “Without the sun, there is nothing I can do. Even I am growing weaker without it.” I placed my hands over my chest and gazed up at the graying sky. “I try my hardest, but some days I cannot find the energy.”
“You need not explain things to me, Blanchefleur. I think we are all feeling the effects of this horrible weather.” He glanced down at me with a gentle smile. “You do not need to push yourself to work hard if you are not feeling well.”
“But the garden will suffer once the sun returns. I am trying to keep it from growing too damp! It can lead to rot, or worse.” I started to fret, but I calmed myself down. “I just feel terrible that the new prince is not surrounded by roses!”
Bellerophon smiled. “We will be his entire life, and no need to worry about it now. Although the scent of roses might help mask the stench of his diapers.” His nose crinkled at the thought. “He goes through a lot.”
“At least he has his health,” I tittered.
“I take little Rosso and Bianco as much as I possibly can, but I know my poor Merah Muda is dealing with more than she lets on.” He sighed and folded his hands behind his back. “I would so love for some good weather to brighten her mood.”
“Is she not feeling well?” I asked with worry.
Bellerophon’s face took on a look of anguish. “Her health is good, physically, but it’s the mental I worry about. Ever since the twins were born, I worry. I know a body goes through many things after birth, and I cannot help but worry she is not telling me everything.” He sighed heavily, then lifted his chin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to start going on about my problems.”
“Quite alright, sir.” I bowed my head. “If you ever need to complain, no one better to talk to than a rose.”
Bellerophon smiled at me. “I appreciate it. If we were to bring some light back into the palace, what could we do?”
“Paper flowers might help,” I suggested. “I have seen them during the fairs. Craftsmen will make giant roses from paper and fabric. Perhaps you could find such a person and have them make paper bouquets for the palace until the sun returns.”
Bellerophon furrowed his brow. “Will that not upset you?”
“I would prefer there be paper roses than none at all, sir.” I laced my fingers together. “When the sun does return and the roses grow, I know where they will go.”
“I’ll take that suggestion to my advisors then,” he said with a smile. “Thank you, Blanchefleur.”
A few days after that, I found a stranger wandering around my half-empty garden. She was wearing all black, and her hair was cropped close to her head, with bangs that descended halfway down the sides of her face and curled at her cheeks. She looked pale and fragile, like the stem of a champagne flute. As she turned, I saw black blossoms decorating the front of her blouse, all of them made from paper. She looked at me, lashes fluttering like wings. Her deep green eyes were the first color I felt I had seen in weeks.
“Oh,” I gasped. Her visage stole my breath from me. “Hello.” I hefted my bucket of tools. “I was not expecting company today.”
“Is this your garden?” Her voice was husky, with a knife’s-edge precision to her words. Her black lips looked dewy, and the blush of her cheeks was painted very high.
“Yes,” I started unsurely. “Who might you be?”
“I was told the owner of the garden suggested I come to this place.” She turned to me, her heels clicking loudly on the cobblestone path. “Would that be you?”
Her presence was domineering, and I felt a bit uneasy, but I was attracted to her poise, her face, her deep-set eyes. “I am Blanchefleur,” I said with a nod. “Who might you be?”
“Atropa.” She tilted her head this way and that as she looked at me. “Are white Prims not a rare breed?”
I couldn’t help but feel a bit agitated at this. “We are all the same. Prims do not differentiate on the basis of color.”
“Forgive me. I have so long admired the Prim. It is one of the many reasons I practice my art.” Her gloved finger fluttered around her neckline, where the cluster of black blossoms bloomed. “It is because of you that I’m here, so I wanted to thank you as well as meet you.”
I set my tools aside and approached her, extending my hand. She took it, kissing my knuckles. I felt a flutter, a spark, and my vines tightened as she planted another kiss on my wrist. She rose, her green eyes lingering on me as her tongue darted over her lips.
“I’m glad you could come.” I felt breathless. “The castle has been in much need of some color, some life. Even if the blossoms are made of paper, I think it will help with this gloomy atmosphere around us.”
“I am glad you think so.” Atropa bowed her head. “I only hope my flowers bring as much joy as yours can.” She turned to the garden which looked so barren these days. “I only wish I could have seen the beauty of your roses, Blanchefleur. Perhaps they could have inspired me.”
Atropa became a strange presence around the castle. Looking very much like some gangly spider, she made herself at home, crafting various bouquets around the royal palace. She made the blossoms from anything; old paper, books, old gowns. She made special blossoms for Merah Muda from the twins’ very first shirts. She was temperamental, often secluding herself in her room and forcing everyone away from her. But she was often in my garden, wandering around where the roses once bloomed so thickly.
“Do you work here alone?” Atropa asked me one afternoon.
“I have my sibling,” I replied. “They tend to the red roses.” I walked beside her as we went along the cobblestone path. “And of course there is the usual staff, but lately there has not been much to do. Not until the sun returns to the sky.”
“Do you get lonesome?” she asked me. “Is there not anything you long for during these gray days?”
I looked her over, wanting to touch her, to see if her lips were black or if it was just paint. I wanted to kiss her, to feel her hands upon me. I wanted to be close to her. I was fascinated by her, a strange feeling I had never felt.
“You are so very cute, but without the sun, your own petals are hiding.” She brushed her fingers along my cheek, and then up through the blossoms that had closed around my head. “I would love to see them, at least once,” she whispered.
“Your blossoms are just as beautiful,” I blurted, then immediately felt ashamed. I had spoken far too loud from the nerves. “I mean… your blossoms-” I stopped before I embarrassed myself any further.
“Do you want to know why I make roses that will last forever?” Atropa said, in a voice as soft and delicate as the mist around us. “Because I won’t.”
“I see,” I murmured. “So, you make flowers that will outlive you?”
Atropa cast her eyes down and touched the thorny remains of the rose bushes. “Something to that effect.” She turned her gaze back onto me. “I don’t mean to sound like a cliche. I never liked how the artists I meet tend to be so morose about mortality.” She chuckled and gave me a small smile. “I feel so bad that roses never got to live for very long. To see them bloom and wilt the way they do. It did not seem fair. I started making ones out of paper so that, maybe...” She stopped herself. “Oh, this is going to sound so silly.”
“No, go on,” I urged with a smile. “I want to hear.”
Atropa scoffed and shook her head. “OK, but remember, this was teeny-tiny me who thought of this. I thought if I made perfect paper roses, then the ghosts of the roses that die would come and inhabit my paper ones, and live forever.” She spread her hands, then chuckled with embarrassment. “Ridiculous, no?”
“No,” I shook my head. “I think it is very sweet! You wanted to give them a second chance at a better life.”
“You see it.” She grinned, and her hands fluttered to her chest. “I’m glad.”
“Of course I see it.” I glanced at the rose bushes. “I wish I could give them all a second chance at life right now.”
She sighed heavily. “You are perhaps the most perfect creation,” she said quietly.
My vines tightened, coiling up and squeezing so that all of me felt tense. “Huh?”
Atropa gazed at me, her eyes so strikingly green. “Prims,” she murmured. “You’re perfect creatures on your own. You live forever, grow forever, and yet you tend to some of the most fragile beings on this earth.” She waved her hand at the garden, then let loose a heavy sigh. “Prims are so amazing.”
“We do not live forever, you know.” I placed my hand over hers. “We just live a while.” I took her hand into mine, and she squeezed my fingers. “Some of us prefer to live short lives, and then we return home.”
“But you have a choice.” Atropa had tears in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” I turned to face her and took both of her hands in mine.
She shook her head. “No, no. It is nothing to apologize about, Blanchefleur.” She smiled sweetly at me, then laced her fingers with mine. “I am glad I got to come here and meet you. Perhaps in your memory, I can live a long time.”
“I would like to remember you very much, Atropa.” My vines shivered all over, and my blossoms trembled. They so wanted to open, but there was no sun.
One day I woke, feeling something warm against my face. I rose from bed to see there was sunlight streaming through my windows. I raced outside, drinking in the sunlight for the first time in weeks. I stood in the warm rays, letting them wash over my blossoms. I felt an energy inside me that had been dormant for so long.
“Please last,” I prayed to the sun. “Stay with us, please!”
Luckily, the sun stayed. The gray had broken, and color returned to the world. The ground began to dry and the dampness left the air. It took time, but the garden started to bloom again. Tiny specks appeared all over as the buds began to form.
“Once the flowers return and they can make bouquets again, I suppose I will no longer be of service here.” Atropa sighed sadly.
I took hold of her hand. “Who knows. They may like you enough to ask you to stay.”
Atropa smiled at me, but there was a sadness to her eyes. “What is the point of keeping around someone who makes flowers, when there are real ones just outside?” She shook her head. “They will want you more than they will want me, Blanchefleur. I can assure you of that.”
“But-” I squeezed her hand tightly. “I don’t want you to go.”
Atropa looked at me, then instantly kissed me. The black on her lips smudged, and she wiped it away from mine. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“No, do it again.” I grabbed her hand.
Atropa gave me an unsure look as she turned her body towards mine. “I thought Prims didn’t care for this.”
“I do,” I gasped as I grabbed her close. “Kiss me again.”
Atropa closed her eyes, tilting my chin up with her fingers. Her lips pressed close, and I placed my hands around her waist. She was so thin, and she felt practically like a bone. She pulled away, her lips pale under the black paint, and pressed her forehead to mine. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish I could stay much longer.”
“You can. You can stay with me,” I urged her softly. “Live with me, Atropa.”
Atropa shook her head. “I can’t do that.” She pushed away from me and touched her lips, pressing them into a tight line. “It wouldn’t be fair. You know...” she whispered, “being in your memory will be so much better than being anywhere else.”
“Atropa-” I started to argue, but she placed her hand over my mouth.
“It’s best we end here. I made a mistake, Blanchefleur. I’m sorry.” She quickly walked away from me, leaving me standing alone in the warm rays of the sun.
The garden grew. The sun continued to shine. Everything was beautiful and perfect - except for the fact that I could not stop myself from thinking about Atropa. I remembered our kiss, the way she touched me, the way my petals felt lighter when she was around. Prims do fall in love. It’s a very important thing for us. But we do not feel sexual desire the same way others do. Perhaps that was why Atropa is hesitant! Perhaps she thought that she was forcing herself upon me, and I did not want her affections. But I did. I very much adore affection, and I would have been happy to reciprocate her feelings.
I decided to go to the palace. I had a small bouquet of early roses for Merah Muda, ones she could keep in the twins’ bedroom window so they could watch them blossom. I could also go and visit Atropa and talk to her before she left.
When I reached her room, I found it empty. Her supplies were still laid out on her desk, but her bed was unmade and the food on the table had not been touched. I stepped further into the room, looking around, when I heard a small voice. I look down and saw the blankets on the floor move.
“Oh, my goodness!” I quickly pulled the blankets back to find Atropa lying there, weak and unable to lift herself up. She looked sick and dazed, barely even breathing. I screamed for help, hoping someone will come.
Atropa was taken to the royal physician, and there I learned for the first time that this was not an unusual occurrence. It wasn’t even the first time it had happened at the palace. Since she arrived, Atropa had received emergency care from the physician three times.
I sat by her bed, watching her eyes dart rapidly around behind her eyelids. She twitched occasionally, her fingers flexing while her arms lay on her chest. When she woke, I was still there, watching over her.
“No,” she whimpered weakly. “I did not want you seeing me like this!”
“It’s OK.” I brushed her hair from her face. “I want to be with you.”
She looked angry, as if she would start throwing and tearing things, but she just lay there. Tears pooled in her eyes as she gazed out the window. “I won’t last any longer,” she whispered to me.
I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it. I glanced towards the window as I ran my fingers through her hair. “You will last a long time, as long as I am here.”
Atropa closed her eyes, resting her head against my arm. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I care about you.” I lay down in the bed beside her, and she curled up next to me. Her imposing figure was now so small as she rested at my side. “Because you're the first person who made me breathe deep, and the first to kiss me.”
“That can’t be true,” Atropa laughed sadly.
“It is.” I placed a soft kiss on her temple. “I very much wanted to kiss you more.”
Atropa sniffled and clung to me as tightly as she could. “Do not make me the last.” She placed her hand over my chest. “It’s not worth it.”
“Perhaps there will be another,” I whispered to her. “Perhaps there won’t.” I looked out the window as the sky began to turn pink and lavender with evening. “But always you will be with me, Atropa. I promise you that.”
She got to see the garden in full bloom before she departed. She was sent home to her family, and I received word later that she passed. I sent dozens of white roses to her funeral, and for a long time, I grieved. I grieved for her, and what missing her would mean. But I mainly mourned a life that I would never have, and the sound of Atropa’s heels clacking on the cobblestones of my garden. I lost my life with Atropa.
Time passed. More gardens grew, and endless roses blossomed. The gardens were split in two when Rosso and Bianco became kings. Then my Alise - beautiful, soft, and wonderful Alise - and I have her in my life now.
Our children are growing, two beautiful creatures who are barely knee-high, running around and hiding amongst the flowers of the garden. Alise paints them, their smiles and their joy, as well as their fits and their tears.
I wake with the sun on my face to see her lying beside me. Her hair looks white in the light, and her long lashes flutter on her cheeks. She stirs,stretches and yawns, her hand nearly hitting me in the face.
“Oh, gosh,” she breathes. “Darling, I’m so sorry.”
I kiss her, holding her hands in mine. “It’s quite alright.”
Alise brushes her fingers across my face, leaning in for another kiss, when there is a tug at the blankets. “Mama! Zaza,” tiny voices trill in the air.
I chuckle, leaning over to pick our babies off the floor and tuck them into bed between us. They snuggle up close, their tender white petals fanning out in the sunlight. This was not the life I dreamed of so long ago, but it is the life I need.
Rose Monster: Rosenrot Part Two
Rosenrot’s romance continues, and the thought of parenthood rises up. But how do Prims have children?
Male Reader x Nonbinary Monster
Part One
News is quick to spread about Queen Primrose’s pregnancy. All of the kingdom is in jubilation over the revelation, and already people are planning on welcoming the new heir to the kingdom. I am excited for my friends, having grown up with Rosso and Bianco, and coming love Primrose as family, how could I not be? But there is a part of me that holds a small sliver of doubt about the upcoming child. After all, Rosso and Bianco nearly split the kingdom due to their own differences.
This is a child conceived by both of them, and maybe Primrose will give birth to a son. As advisor to the palace, I have a great deal of grief over this issue. Taking care of Rosso all these years is one thing, and I’m not sure I can look after three of him.
But the more time I spend with Primrose, the more she makes me see the beauty of it. I never considered myself a child-rearing person, but the more I see of the baby clothes, the bassinets, and the joy on Primrose’s face, the more I feel myself come to an awakening.
“Are you not afraid?” I ask Primrose one day.
“Oh, I am absolutely terrified,” she says with a laugh. “But I know I have Rosso and Bianco with me at all times.”
“That is what I mean,” I reply with a sigh.
“Why, Yves,” Primrose puts her hands on her burgeoning hips. “You’re not worried history is going to repeat itself, are you?”
“Minutely, my queen.” I bow my head down low. “I have known the brightest of days and the darkest of nights because of your husbands. I would hate for you to watch your own children split the kingdom in two.” I chuckle. “And I would hate to mediate such a thing again.”
“You did not have me with you before,” Primrose says with a bright smirk. She lays her hand on my shoulder. “I am not one to let my children run about like monsters.” She quickly glances around in case her mother-in-law is about, then looks back towards me. “I plan to raise this baby, or babies,” she flinches, “knowing they have to consider others ahead of themselves.”
“But aren’t you scared of the future? You cannot know it, you cannot control it,” I gasp.
“That’s a baby,” Primrose chuckles. “My main job is to make sure it gets to that point in one piece and well-loved. I cannot control it, I can only watch it blossom. Surely, you understand this, being with Rosenrot?”
“Roses are different,” I sigh.
“But just as unpredictable,” she shakes her head. “You can tend to your garden with all the knowledge and love in the world, yet there are things you still cannot account for.” She furrows her brow. “Why do you ask, Yves? Has something come up?”
I sit back and hold my head in my hands. “All of Miror is all in an uproar for babies. Everywhere you look, they are celebrating it.” I lift my head. “Blanchefleur and Alise have been talking about a family for ages, and now, I feel as though they are trying. It has made me question myself and what I want.”
Primrose hums. “Well, what is the question? If you do not want babies, then do not have one simply because Miror has gone mad.” She sits down beside me. “And if you do want one, do it because you want it and will love it.” She places her hand on my back. “Have you discussed any of this with Rosenrot?”
I press my lips into a tight line. “They know something is troubling me, but they do not know what it is. I have been afraid to bring the subject up. I have no clue what their feelings on the matter are.”
“Most Prim take this sort of thing very seriously, too,” Primrose sighs. “Family is a big matter to them, not one that is talked about flippantly.” She glances towards the windows, letting her long eyelashes catch in the sunlight. “It is best you talk to Rosenrot now. What they say may help your mind settle.”
“But what if we are both settled on different things?” I ask quietly.
“I truly do not think that will be the case, my dear friend. But if it is, well-” Primrose hesitates and places her hand over mine. “I think you two are strong enough to talk things through.”
I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We are.”
When I return home that evening, I find that Rosenrot is still working somewhere in the garden. I decide to take a bath and get comfortable, relax a bit before Rosenrot gets home. In the bathroom, I sink into the hot water of the tub and lay back.
“Now that is a lovely sight.”
I nearly jump out of the water. I turn back to see Rosenrot smirking in the doorway of the bathroom. I glare at them and huff. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to admire the beauty of my partner in all his glory.” Rosenrot saunters into the bathroom. “What’s wrong?” they ask. “You never take baths unless something is bothering you.” They sit down on the edge of the tub and stroke their fingers through my hair.
I close my eyes and lean into their palm.
Rosenrot shakes their hand. “Come on now, Yves, out with it. You’ve been churning over something for a while now, and I am sick of you not talking to me.”
I lift my head back up and look at them. “All this baby talk throughout Miror-”
Rosenrot grimaces and makes a disgusted noise. “All this hullabaloo for something that isn’t even theirs to celebrate. This is an occasion for Primrose, Rosso, and Bianco. It should be intimate, not a farce.”
“Yes, well-” I start off again, slowly.
“It’s selfish of people to make this about themselves and turn it into a party, that’s all I’m saying.” They glance down at me. “Whenever you and I decide to discuss the notion of family, then we’ll do it the right way for us, and-” They stop all of a sudden, coming to the root of my problem all on their own. “That’s what it is,” Rosenrot whispers. “All the celebration for the baby, and you’re wondering if that’s what we should do.”
“I know we don’t have to,” I grumble. “But everyone keeps going on about it and I keep thinking about it and thinking about it until it’s tumbled around so much, it comes out like one of those smooth stones!”
Rosenrot sighs. “I should have known.” They turn to me and run their fingers through my hair. “I guess I wasn’t thinking about it.”
“How?” I laugh. “Tell me how you don’t think about it, because if I think on it one second longer, I will lose my mind.”
Rosenrot shrugs. “Simple. I have you.”
“That doesn’t help!” I whine and lay my forehead on the rim of the tub.
Rosenrot throws their head back and laughs. “No, silly, I mean that I don’t need to worry about it, because I do have you. When the time is right, it will happen, and if the time never happens, then that is fine too. If you need to discuss this to know your heart, then we can.”
I pout slightly and raise my head back up again. “You had a human mother,” I murmur. “And your zaza was a prim. How did it work?”
Rosenrot shrugs. “Like all couples. Nothing special except their love.”
“No!” I grump. “I mean like-” I frown a bit. “Did they have to-” I trail off, afraid to bring up the topic that brought me discomfort.
“Don’t worry,” Rosenrot says comfortingly. “Prim are not like humans, remember. We do not need to have sex or do anything of the sort in order to have a child.” They stroke my hair comfortingly. “For Prim, it is different. We go through cycles in the year where we can sprout blossoms. These manifest as tiny buds all over our vines.” Rosenrot lays their hands on their chest. “Much like how certain creatures go into ovulation - we only need a special water to awaken the buds and allow them to bloom.”
“Where do you get it?” I ask.
Rosenrot dips their head down a bit. “Deep in the Tulgy Wood where the Prim come from, there is Looking Glass Falls. The water comes from a spring high above that no one can trace. It is said the first Prim were born from those waters. It’s there that I must water myself in order to awaken the buds when they show.”
“But is that something you’d want to do? How many buds would blossom?” I have so many questions and my heart is racing.
Rosenrot looks over me for a moment, silent before they offer me their hand. “Come on, get out of the tub. Your beauty is distracting me.”
My cheeks flush and I take their hand. Rosenrot wraps me in my robe and places a kiss on my cheek.
“Many blossoms don’t survive, if any.” they say quietly. “But that is not important at the moment. What is, is you.” They lay their hand on their chest. “Yes, I would love to raise blossoms with you, but if you do not, then that is something I don’t mind foregoing.”
“You say you want them, but you want to set all that aside?” I gasp.
“That is not what I said.” Rosenrot shakes their head, then points in my face. “I say I want to do it with you. I only want this full-heartedly if that is what you want as well.”
“Oh,” I gasp. “I… I hadn’t thought about it on those terms.”
Rosenrot gives me the eye. “What terms were you thinking of?” they scoff.
I bow my head and laugh. “You know? I’m not certain. I really don’t understand what I was thinking.”
Rosenrot brings me into a hug, wrapping their long arms around me. I feel safe with them, more than anyone in the world. I lay my head on their chest, and in that moment, everything is clear to me.
“I want a family with you,” I murmur.
Rosenrot squeezes me tighter. “Are you sure? You’re not just saying things to me now?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I want this. I know I do. It’s like Primrose said - as long as I have you, I think everything will be okay.”
Rosenrot pulls back and clasps my face in their hands. “I won’t be budding again for a few more months. We’ll have time then, to plan and prepare ourselves.”
I nod. “That’s perfect.”
Rosenrot hugs me close again. “Yves, you’re the one who is perfect.”
Before Rosenrot can bud, the new prince is born. Primrose gives birth during the evening, and I am woken from my slumber by one of the royal guards. Dragged to the castle, I stand with Rosso and Bianco, who have been banished outside the royal bedchambers to pace feverishly.
“But why can I not be with her?” Rosso roars brazenly.
“It isn’t proper,” one of the nurses says.
Bianco’s eyes narrow into a look I have rarely seen on his face. “Proper?” he scoffs. “We are out here because of proper? Not because our wife, our love, is at a health risk? Not because of something that could be harmful?”
I quickly take Rosso’s sword from him before any harm can be done. “It would be best if you just let them in. Who cares about propriety at a time like this?” Before I can even coerce the nurses from the door, Rosso and Bianco shove past them, barging their way into the bedroom.
I sigh. “At least I took his sword in time,” I scoff. I set the blade aside, then stand near the window. Outside, the skyline is fading from dusk to dawn. Everything is purple and pink, gently suffusing all the eye can see.
I hear the squall of the baby, and the cheer from Rosso and Bianco. I sigh in relief and slouch down into the bench under the window.
“It sounds like the new heir is here.” My sister walks up beside me, holding her painting supplies in hand.
“Have you come to paint the moment?” I yawn.
“I was instructed to, but I just need to get a quick glimpse of the baby and then I can make a dramatic rendering at home.” Alise sits down beside me, and I rest my head on her shoulder.
“Been keeping the dogs at bay all night?” Alise asks. She strokes my hair as I lean on her.
“They broke in around midnight,” I yawn. “They scoffed at the protocol and have been beside Primrose all night.”
“Good for them,” Alise chuckles.
I sigh and hold her hand. “I have some good news,” I murmur. “I need to share with someone or I might burst.”
Alise looks at me as I sit up. “Go on, I have some good news myself. We can make a trade.”
I am grinning from ear to ear. I never expected myself to be this excited. As I look at Alise, though, and her curious expression, I know now more than ever what I want. “Rosenrot found a bud last night. It could be a little while longer, but once there are more, we are going to the Looking Glass Falls. We’re going to try for a blossom.”
Alise slaps her hands on my cheeks and shakes me. “That’s my news! Only with me and Blanchefleur!” She grins from ear to ear. “I’ve been bursting to tell you, but we wanted to wait and make sure!”
We pull each other into tight hugs and laugh excitedly.
“Yves! Alise!” Rosso steps out of the doorway. “Get in here this instant.”
We both grin at each other one last time before we go into the bedroom to be the first people to see the Prince. As advisor, I preside over the naming and signing the documents for his birth certificate and records. Alise, as the royal painter, is sketching the scene so she can paint it on grand scale to commemorate the moment.
“Ludovico,” Primrose murmurs as she places the small bundle in my arms. “It was my father’s name, and now it is his.”
Ludovico whimpers softly. He struggles with life, as all new babies do. He twists and turns as he gets used to this new feeling. He is in a world strange to him, where he is vulnerable, but still wholly protected by a new set of walls.
“Prince Ludovico the first,” I say to him. “From this day on, I decree the celebration of your birth. Born on the pink dawn, you cried your first breath at these hours.” I have Rosso hold the ink pad which I use take his footprint and handprint, and have Bianco ease his hand and foot onto the paper. I sign the document of his birth and seal it with wax.
Over the next few weeks, I am able to focus on Rosenrot as the royal family is sequestered during Ludovico’s first month. Each day, Rosenrot and I rise to count the buds on their body. Rosenrot suggests no more than ten - any more and we risk the blossoms not getting enough nutrients to grow.
Once we count eight, to head to Tulgy Wood and the Looking Glass Waterfall.
“What will happen?” I ask them. “What if we have eight blossoms? Will we have eight to raise?”
Rosenrot chuckles. “I told you before, having all buds survive passed blossoming is very rare. At most three, most likely one. Sometimes, nothing happens at all. It’s all up to chance now.” They kiss me before we leave.
There is a secret path in Tugly Wood that only the Prim are allowed to take. As much as I want to journey with Rosenrot, I am not permitted inside the ancestral lands of the Prim. Instead, I have to wait outside until they return from the waterfall.
I am lucky to have Alise with me - she and Blanchefleur decided to go with us so we would have family to comfort one another on our separate paths. Alise and I stay at an inn near the borders of Tugly Wood. There, she busies herself by drawing. Since she was little, she has always drawn to keep her mind busy when she is worried. I have never seen her draw the way she does now, like some sort of Hatter possessed.
“This is maddening.” She sets her things aside. “I cannot take this. I thought for sure they would be back by now.”
“It’s only been a day,” I say, as heavy-hearted as she is. “We must be patient, that is all.”
“I don’t want to wait! I want to be with them!” She kicks the claw foot of the bed and, when it hurts, she whines again and flops down onto the bed. “I hate all this waiting. We have to wait for them to come back. We have to wait for the blossoms. And then we have to wait again to see which blossoms take!” She kicks and thrashes on the mattress, then goes still and quiet again. “It’s maddening! Stupid Prim. I should have been able to go with Blanchefleur.”
I take up her drawing pad and glance through the pictures. Inside, I see sketches of Primrose holding Ludovico, of Bianco grinning, and of Rosso sobbing. As the pages go on, the images change. There are sketches of Blanchefleur holding a bundle. There are drawings of the small buds on the vines of our lovers’ arms. There are drawings of small rosebuds barely in bloom, and then petals that open up into the sleeping face of a child.
“I used to love my baby dolls,” Alise murmurs. “I used to love holding them and taking care of them.” She closes her eyes and sighs. “I always wanted to be a mom, but I never wanted it so much as when I’m with Blanchefleur.”
I set the sketchbook aside. “I never knew I wanted anything like this until I was with Rosenrot. Now it’s all I can think about.”
“You always hated my baby dolls,” Alise chuckles.
“Funny,” I smile. “Now, I wish I’d had one too.”
A few days pass. Each day, we go to the edge of Tugly Wood to wait. On the fourth day, they finally emerge.
We race towards them, grabbing them in our arms and finding them completely soaked. In order to be watered, they had to submerge themselves in the waters directly below the waterfall and soak there for three days.
“All I want is to go home,” Rosenrot whispers, “and be with you.”
In a few days, the buds start to grow bigger. Eventually, they start to turn red. Each day I awake, I quickly look over Rosenrot, going over each of the eight buds. I wish I was talented like Alise and could sketch them as they grow, but all I have is my own memory to look back fondly on.
The buds become bigger each day, growing much more red than before. Unfortunately, at least four wither away before they blossom. We hold out hope, taking care of the four that remain. Two are on Rosenrot’s arms, one on their chest, and the fourth grows near the base of their throat.
I wake one day to find Rosenrot holding the blossom from his shoulder in his hands. “It will be alright,” they assure me. “We have three. That’s more than I expected.”
I kiss them and take the fallen flower from their hands. As I look it over, I feel it shift. I gasp softly, watching as the petals start to move and open up more.
“Rosenrot,” I gasp aloud. “It’s moving! What do I do?”
Rosenrot clasps their hands around mine, holding them fast. The blossom opens wide and, inside, there is something the size of my little finger. It’s so tiny I can barely make out the features, but it stretches and twists on the petals like Ludovico did during his first moments in the world.
“It’s a miracle,” Rosenrot gasps. “This is not supposed to happen!” They quickly take the blossom outside, holding it in the sun. The petals of the rose have faded, turning a faint, dusky pink. The child starts to cry, though it is so small and helpless.
We quickly act to take care of them. We make a bed of fresh earth for them, in direct sunlight, where they will be warm. Blanchefleur and Alise assist as best they can, but this is a strange situation, and a miracle at that.
The little one grows each day, their pink petals becoming more and more vibrant. Despite how tiny they are, they take water, as much as they can get. Their bed of earth soon becomes too small for them, and we have to find them a new one.
The remaining three blossoms fall away, but none of them have the same life the pink one did. Soon, the little one is as big as my palm, and we can make out their features.
“Nothing like this has ever happened before,” Rosenrot whispers to me. “When a blossom falls, that usually means it has failed.” They cup our little one in their hands, sitting on the bench where we had fallen in love.
“Well, they need a name. We cannot keep calling them a miracle forever.” I take them from Rosenrot and they snuggle into my sleeve like a blanket.
“Lolovivi,” Rosenrot replies. “It’s a charm for Prim, a word of promise.” They look at me. “This one reminds me of that word, each morning I see them.”
I kiss the soft pink petals. “Hello, Lolovivi,” I whisper. “I am your father. And I will love you forever - that is my promise.”
Rose Monster: Blanchfleur
Another Rose monster in the land of Miror. Where Rosenrot was more masculine, Blanchfleur is the more feminine. A lovely story of gentle love and affection, just like the petals of a white rose.
Female Reader x Nonbinary Monster
I have worked for Bianco ever since I was a teenager. When I first started painting, he was my first customer, and ever since he has kept me as artist-in-residence on his side of the palace. Growing up, my mother had been an advisor to the King and Queen, a role which my brother now takes for Rosso.
Ever since Bianco and Rosso split the palace, I have stayed with Bianco, and have barely seen my brother in all these years. Still, I very much love my job here at the palace. I love the work I do, which is not just restricted to my painting skills. I am also in charge of decorating, designing the uniforms as well as Bianco’s wardrobe, and I assist Bianco with his makeup.
But all this brings us to a moment I never expected to happen. The palace was unified again after a certain girl came into our lives. Primrose not only wooed both Bianco and Rosso, but she was able to bring the brothers back together, healing their old wounds as well as the divided castle. Now a wedding is taking place. Bianco and Rosso are both marrying Primrose, so my life has never been more hectic.
I have been arguing at length with Rosso’s artist-in-residence for days, both of us having clashing ideas for how to design the wedding. I was at wit’s end dealing with such an immovable force, but then I was approached by the gardener of the red roses. Prims have always been beautiful to me; my exact aesthetic of dangerous beauty mingled with such an innocent softness. Rosenrot was exceptionally tall, especially to someone petite and under five feet in height like me. Their body was a mix of flowering vines, topped by a mask-like face surrounded by bright red rose blossoms the size of my head.
“I am looking for the artist-in-residence here,” Rosenrot says with a bow. “Little girl, can you help me find her?”
I grimace at them. “I am who you are looking for.”
Rosenrot straightens up like a shot. “Oh! Do forgive me! Yves did not warn me that you were so dainty, Lady Alisabethe.”
“My brother?” I ask.
“He sent me to speak with you,” Rosenrot replies. “He and I are, well...” they chuckle shyly. “Your brother and I are becoming extremely close.”
“You’re my brother’s partner?” I say with a smile. “I knew we had similar taste.” I giggle. “Anyway, how can I help you?”
“My sibling is the gardener of the White Roses, and we are both in a bit of a predicament.” Rosenrot laces their fingers together. “Both sides have ordered one thousand of my red roses, while Blanchefleur has an order for one thousand of their white roses.”
“There won’t be a rose left in the entire garden!” I gasp. “I’d rather have no roses at the wedding than see an empty garden!”
“That is our conundrum,” Rosenrot says. “Blanchefleur and I have both suggested painting some of the roses from various other gardens around the city. But we have no way of getting enough of them in time.”
“Painting the roses?” I gasp.
“There is a white rose maze near the Chess Board, and they have agreed to sell us the flowers. But then we need someone to paint them red. I have been told you are a skilled maestro with a brush.”
“Why not Chesterfort, the artist-in-residence on your side?” I ask.
“He’s mean, and he stabs when he paints.” Rosenrot does the motion in the air, and I understand right away why I have been asked. “Blanchefleur wanted me to ask you; white to red.”
“Painting the roses red,” I murmur under my breath. “I suppose if there isn’t any other option. But there is one thing - it’ll be easier to paint the roses if they’re still on the bush.”
Rosenrot sighs. “Blanchefleur is going to pick them up today. They’re getting the carriage ready as we speak.”
“Then I will travel with them.” I snap my hands to my hips. “I can paint the roses while they gather the extra white ones needed. Then once the red roses are dry, we can pick them together.”
“Not sure how Blanchefleur will like this, but this is an emergency.” Rosenrot takes me into the white rose garden and towards the back. There lies the small cottage where the gardener lives, and someone is there hitching a wagon to carry the roses.
“Sibling!” Rosenrot calls out.
Blanchefleur turns around. Where Rosenrot is elegant curves, Blanchefleur is built like a lithe ballerina. They are as tall as their sibling, but thin and dainty, with legs that must be longer than my entire body. They are covered in white roses from the top of their head down their arms, and their vines are a sapphire blue, ornamented with gold jewelry. They are exactly my type.
“Why are you here?” Blanchefleur snaps. “I have to go soon!”
“This is why I am here.” Rosenrot pushes me forward. “This is Bianco’s artist in residence. She has agreed to take on the task of painting the roses red.”
Blanchefleur shakes their head. “Horrible, still! Painting my beloved white roses is such a shame. But I would rather do that than see my garden stripped bare.” They stoop to look down at me. “But why have you come here? You can paint the roses when I return.”
“That is why I am here. I have painted flowers before and let me tell you, they are much easier to paint when they are still on the bush. They behave better and the petals stay in place. I will paint the roses red while you pick the white ones needed.”
Blanchefleur grumbles. “If you say so. Then come along.” They pick me up off the ground and set me in the wagon like a doll. “I have the paint ready. I’ll just put it under your seat.” They go inside their cottage for a moment, then return with the buckets of paint.
As we leave the royal grounds, Blanchefleur turns to look at me. “Tiny thing for an artist,” they say. “What’s your name?”
“I am the size I need to be,” I huff. “And my name is Alisabethe, but everyone calls me Alise.”
“Alise?” Blanchefleur murmurs. “Al-ise, of course you are,” they chuckle.
“I am also the sister of Yves,” I add.
“Yves?” Blanchefleur tilts their head to the side. “Ah! Yves, the man Rosenrot has partnered with. Amazing how taste runs in a family. Our Zaza was partial to beautiful human women, especially our mother.” They then turn to look at me. “Are your tastes like your brother’s?”
I feel exposed for a moment, and I take a quick breath. “Well, I certainly do love beautiful things.” I shut my mouth tight again.
Blanchefleur chuckles. “Are you calling me beautiful, Alise?”
I huff and look to the side. “It is hard to call a rose anything but beautiful.” Then I glance back cautiously at Blanchefleur. “So yes, I am calling you beautiful.” I try to keep a stiff upper lip. No shame in telling someone that they are lovely to behold.
“And you are tiny.”
I grimace at them. “I am not ashamed of my size!”
“And why should you be?” Blanchefleur chuckles. “Good things come in small packages, or so the saying goes.”
My cheeks grow warm again. “Thank you.” I smile to myself. “Not many people realize that.”
“Shame on them,” Blanchefleur sniffs.
I giggle and beam up at Blanchefleur. “Anyway, has the wedding driven you crazy yet?” I ask them.
“Hmm, no,” they sigh. “Personally, I enjoy a bit of chaos every now and then. Besides, I am excited for all the royal guests to see my garden, especially now that it has joined with Rosenrot’s, and become the garden it is supposed to be. At least, the one the King intended.”
“That’s right, he planted the garden when they were born,” I murmur.
“Along with the pink roses for Merah Muda,” Blanchefleur replies. “Our other sibling tends to that one, and they must be laughing at us. Merah Muda is offering up just enough roses for bouquets, and she’s not letting anyone take her roses.”
“I don’t blame her,” I scoff. “One of the best sights on all the grounds is looking out on a crisp morning to see the fog laying over the white rose garden. The way it looks, it’s almost as if the world is emptied of color. But the white roses glimmer so brilliantly in the fog, like radiant beams of light.”
Blanchefleur clasps one hand over their chest. “You’re making me swoon.”
I giggle softly. “I mean it. I often wake up early on cold mornings just so I can see the spectacle. It has become my most favorite thing in the world.”
“You are doing my heart a world of good, hearing this praise,” Blanchefleur sighs. “Have you painted it, then?”
I scoff and lean back. “I have tried, dozens of times. I have so many half-finished canvases from my attempts.”
Blanchefleur lifts up their chin. “Why only half-finished?”
“Because,” I grumble, “I can’t get it right! Of all the things in this world, I cannot paint the one thing I love most.”
“That is what you love most?” Blanchefleur remarks, astonished. “There is no handsome knight who has whisked you off your feet? No baker covered in icing that she lets you lick off her fingers?”
I frown up at them. “No.”
“No cat?” they scoff.
“No!” I growl. “I’m not at all into that sort of thing,” I sigh. “I love beauty and I adore looking at it, but I’ve never been into romance that way.”
“No one has made your heart strings sing like the sight of my roses?” Blanchefleur purrs.
“Exactly,” I say with a nod.
Blanchefleur turns to look at me. “Then by all means, come visit them up close next time you get a chance to come to the garden. They would love it if you did.”
My heart is hammering, not because of the roses, but because I am looking at Blanchefleur and enjoying their words.
Once we arrive at the white rose maze, we both set to work. The maze is contributing one thousand roses to the wedding, so while I paint five hundred, Blanchefleur is gathering another five hundred which will remain white.
As I paint, I realize these roses are nothing like the ones in the royal garden. They do not have the same glimmer and shine that the ones Blanchefleur tends to have. These are just ordinary roses, while Blanchefleur’s are like the divine ideal of roses.
“Wonderful work! Not a petal bruised,” Blanchefleur remarks as they come to examine my artistry.
“Have you gathered five hundred already?” I ask.
“Indeed I have!” Blanchefleur chimes. “Which end did you start at? I can start collecting these abominations.”
“That they are,” I sigh.
“What was that?” Blanchefleur looks up from the roses.
“These roses are nothing like yours. Even painted red, I can tell the difference instantly. These are just roses.” I move on to the next rose to paint.
“You can tell that?” Blanchefleur comes up close behind me.
“I can.” I then gasp softly as Blanchefleur puts their arms around me from behind. They take hold of the rose I am trying to paint. My heart is shuddering and sputtering like a fly that can’t get off the ground. They are so close, and they smell so sweet.
“If you were not so opposed to romance, I would sweep you off your feet right now,” Blanchefleur whispers into my ear. “Of all the pretty words you have said today, these are my favorite.”
I look up at Blanchefleur and swallow down the nervous lump in my throat. “I am not completely opposed,” I murmur. “It just depends.”
Blanchefleur chuckles softly, then releases me. “I’ll gather the flowers you have painted and leave you be, then.”
I take in a deep breath, feeling woozy from the experience. I haven’t felt an attraction to anybody, ever, and Blanchefleur is making me feel like a child trying candy for the very first time.
We get the roses ready; all one thousand of them, painted and bare, are packed into the wagon. We deliver them to the palace along with the five hundred of Rosenrot’s red roses and five hundred of Blanchefleur’s white roses.
After that, I am back on my toes again, and so busy preparing for the wedding and that I have no time to think about the feelings I have developed. On the day of the wedding, I finish the bouquet that Primrose will carry down the aisle. It is made of the pink roses out of Merah Muda’s garden, with one red rose and one white rose to symbolize Primrose’s new husbands. I notice that there is an extra white rose left over, so I take it and style it into my hair.
I deliver the bouquet to Primrose, who is all tears and bright smiles. “This is wonderful!” She clasps the bouquet to her chest. “It is so lovely, Alise. Thank you for all of your hard work.” She then touches my hair, where I have placed the white rose. “This is so beautiful.”
“You think so? It was a last second addition as I dashed out the door.” I smile softly, hoping Blanchefleur will see it.
“Blanchefleur told me you painted the extra red roses. That must have been a feat.” Primrose poses in the mirror with her bouquet and dress.
“I never noticed,” I say with a gentle smile. “I’m glad you like your bouquet, Primrose,” I say as I leave her room.
That evening, I attend the banquet to watch Rosso, Bianco, and Primrose dance for the first time together. Afterwards, I steal some champagne and abscond from the palace and out to the garden.
I find a seat in the white roses, where I sit down amongst them. I gaze up at the sky, wondering if the stars are jealous of the white blossoms.
“You left the party!” A scolding voice snaps me from my thoughts and startles me to standing.
I look up at Blanchefleur, who has their hands on their hips. “Oh, you’re here,” I gasp.
“I was going to ask you to dance, and you left!” They extend their hand out to me. “I still intend to have that dance.”
“Dance?” I ask curiously. “With me?”
“I have been looking forward to asking you since we left the rose maze.” Blanchefleur takes hold of my hand. “No better place than here.”
I grip their hand and rise to my feet. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Blanchefleur pulls me close to them. “This is what matters.” They start to move, slowly at first, stooping over to make up for my small stature. Then they huff. “Okay, sometimes short is too short.”
I gasp and yelp as Blanchefleur picks me up and holds me off the ground in their arms. They spin me around, dancing me about the rose garden. I giggle and wrap my arms around their neck. I then plant a soft kiss on their mask, and Blanchefleur goes still.
“I am very much a romantic, Alise,” they reply. “A kiss for me might mean something else than it means for you.”
“I told you, I am not completely opposed to romance. It just has to be a very certain person.” I smile at them. “I’ve never felt the way I feel looking at roses with anyone else, well, until I met you.”
Blanchefleur nuzzles against my cheek. “You always know the right things to say,” they sigh dreamily.
“My brother always had dates,” I murmur. “He always enjoyed the feeling of being in love, but I never understood. To me, I just-” I huff and turn my attention to the ground. “I don’t know, I couldn’t understand it. And I felt happier not trying to.” I glance back at Blanchefleur’s face.
“How do you feel about planting a kiss on my cheek?” Blanchefleur tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “With my flower in your hair.”
I capture their hand and kiss their fingertips. “I like it now.”
Blanchefleur giggles softly. “That makes me very happy to hear, Alise.” They spin me again, dancing through the garden until we come to the center, where it meets with the red roses. There is a patch of ground still separating them, but the roses have begun reaching across the gap towards one another.
“What will you plan to do here?” I ask with a quiet voice.
“We aren’t sure yet.” Blanchefleur sets me down then takes a hold of my hand. “My siblings and I have been discussing it as of late. Rosenrot and our sibling who cares for the pink roses, Lolovivi, have all been talking since the palace reunited. We think there should be something here that symbolizes that unity.”
I think for a moment. “What if you all just lived here?” I ask. “Then all of you could take care of the roses together. It wouldn’t matter what roses were whose, they would all be cared for the same.”
“A garden of homes,” Blanchefleur murmurs softly. “It certainly does sound nice when you think of it that way.” They glance down at me. “Your brother would probably live here, then. You would have to come and visit him often.”
“I would, wouldn’t I?” I lace my fingers with Blanchefleur’s.
A few days later, the house idea is agreed upon by the three rose siblings. Rosso and Bianco allow three cottages to be built there, standing in a circle, the front doors facing one another and the back doors leading out into the gardens. Yves, my brother, does indeed, move in with Rosenrot, and I help him move from the palace and into the garden.
“You don’t have to keep pretending to come to the garden for me,” Yves smirks at me one day.
“What?” I laugh it off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am simply making up for lost time.”
“Don’t try to act cute. It doesn’t suit you.” Yves pinches my cheek. “You don’t have to hide your feelings from me. In fact, I would prefer that you share.”
I pout at him. “It’s all new for me, Yves. You know this,” I grumble. “The way I feel for Blanchefleur, I’ve only ever felt while painting. They make my heart feel so full and happy, just being around them makes me dizzy.”
“Thank goodness you don’t write poetry,” Yves snickers.
“I’ll have you know Blanchefleur likes the way I talk!” I snap at him. “You and Rosenrot trade love letters all the time. How is this any different?”
“You’re visual, Alise,” Yves says. “I’m better with words. If you want to show Blanchefleur how you feel, why not paint it?”
“Paint it,” I mutter, then frown. “There’s no way. I have tried painting the white roses before and I just can’t capture them!”
“Then think about Blanchefleur,” Yves replies. “Paint while thinking about them.”
The next morning, I take Yves’ words to heart and set up in my room, painting what I see beyond my window. I think about Blanchefleur, and how my heart feels, and the brush moves easily across the canvas. Each stroke is another song in my heart, another string of flowery words. Once I am finished, it is night. I pass out on my bed, and don’t wake until late the next day. When I look at the painting, I realize it is my best creation.
I wrap it up and make my way down to the gardens where the three houses are. Blanchefleur isn’t home, so I sit and wait on their porch until they return.
“Alise!” Blanchefleur opens the door. “How long have you been out here?”
I clutch the package to my chest. “Not long,” I grumble. “I was just waiting on you. Have you been home?”
“For an hour,” they reply.
I grimace and look away.
“What’s that you have there?” Blanchefleur asks. “Oh, never mind, come inside. You must be hot sitting out here.”
I go into their home, where I see that things are still being unpacked and decorated. I sit down on their sofa while Blanchefleur pours a cold drink from a fancy decanter.
“Drink this. It’s rose lemonade.” Blanchefleur presses the cold glass into my palms.
“Thank you,” I look at the pearl-like liquid inside, where several white rose petals dance. I take a sip, finding it tart and sweet at the same time.
“Did you bring me a housewarming gift?” Blanchefleur says as they pick up the package.
“Sort of,” I blurt. I wipe my mouth and stand up. “It’s a gift, something to show you-” I stop myself. “Well, it’s something only for you.”
Blanchefleur removes the wrapping around the painting, then sets it over the fireplace. They step back and stare at the canvas. “Oh my,” they whisper.
I have painted the white rose garden, but in such a way that the roses, the vines, the paths and borders and surrounding grounds all form an image of Blanchefleur. I step beside them and take hold of their hand. “I could never paint the garden - because I was always meant to paint you.”
Blanchefleur snatches me up off the ground, spinning me in the air before they hold me tight in their arms. “I love it. I can’t express to you what this means to me.” They press their still lips to my cheek, then nuzzle against my hair. “Thank you, Alise. I will treasure this always.”
I loop my arms around their neck. “Do you understand?” I ask quietly, “what the painting is saying?”
Blanchefleur nods. “I do. And I promise, I will love you too.”
I sigh with relief as I cling to them. “I’m glad you see it.”
Rose Monster: Rosenrot
A new creature and continuing to build the world of Miror. I hope you all enjoy.
Male Reader x Nonbinary Monster
Back when the Kings Rosso and Bianco kept their palaces separate, they each had a rose garden that had been a gift from their father, when he was still alive. The gardens were meant to grow as the young princes grew, eventually tangling together to show the unity between them and how they would rule all of Miror. Unfortunately, the two brothers fought viciously, and that led to a literal separation of the royal palace, including the gardens.
Back in those days, I was a friend and advisor to Rosso. Everyone knows what a temperamental and sensitive person Rosso is, so my job was often to calm him down or talk him off the proverbial ledge. I didn’t mind my job; I was good at it, and it was the sort of thing I had always seen myself doing. It had been a job my mother held back in the day, working with the late King and Queen Merah Muda. I already had an understanding with Rosso and knew him quite well, and I was one of the few people who could get through to him.
Even still, I often needed my moments alone. My favorite place to escape was to the garden full of beautiful red roses. I would sit there, maybe eat my lunch, read a book, and let myself be captivated by the bright crimson petals and their soft, gentle scent.
There was a small staff that took care of the garden. A collection of experts who kept the roses well tended to and flourishing. I often saw them running about on this business, knowing that if Rosso saw one blossom out of order, it would garner a harsh reprimand. One of the staff - or, well, not just one of them - was the head gardener, the one who took the most care of the roses, and they were another reason I so enjoyed the rose garden.
Rosenrot is something known as a Prim, a creature who looks more like a plant than anything else. Their head is like one of the red roses in the garden, and their body and limbs are made up of tightly wound vines. Rosenrot is exceptionally beautiful; their petals are the most magnificent shade of red, and a mask-like face is set in the center of the blossom. They are tall and well-built with strong shoulders, elegant limbs, a narrow waist, and long dancer’s legs.
I first met Rosenrot ages ago, back when I graduated from University and was coming to take my position in the castle. Rosenrot came to my quarters to present me with a massive bouquet of roses from the garden.
“Congratulations,” they told me in a voice like honey. “These are for you, to welcome you to the palace.”
I wasn’t even looking at the roses, I was so captivated by Rosenrot’s beauty. “Yes, thank you.” I took the vase into my arms. “This is very kind of you.”
Rosenrot chuckled. “These are not from me. Rosso had them sent to you. I simply selected the best blossoms that would welcome you in.”
I looked at the roses for the first time, noticing how perfect and beautifully arranged each one was. “You didn’t have to go out of your way for that. I would have been happy with any rose.”
Rosenrot tapped their finger to the still lips of the mask. “I take pride in my work, and I enjoy showing off how hard I have worked,” they replied. “Especially to someone new to the palace.”
“Oh,” I gasped and sat the vase aside. “I am not new. Only the job is new.”
Rosenrot tilted their head to the side. “Oh? Do you mind me asking how you were here before?”
“I don’t mind at all.” I shook my head. “My mother used to advise the King and Queen, and I grew up here with her. Rosso has always been a friend, so he invited me to return when I graduated from University.”
“Oh, so you’ve known Rosso since he was little.” Rosenrot nodded. “I see. So tell me, if it does not get you in trouble...” They leaned in close to me. “Is it true that King Rosso used to be something of a crybaby?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at their question. “Do not spread the news around, but yes, he used to tear up often for no reason.”
Rosenrot stood back up. “It seems I’ve won a bet.” They bowed to me again. “In any case, welcome back home, Sir Yves.”
I have been smitten with Rosenrot ever since, and have taken to the rose garden to see them as often as possible.
Today is no different; I am sitting in the garden again, waiting to catch a glimpse of the one I admire so. I keep looking up from my book, glancing over the edge to see if Rosenrot is walking around a corner or coming towards me. That is all I want; just a vision of them walking by, and it will make my day a happy one.
I sit back to read again, glancing over the same paragraph I have been reading since I sat down. I keep glancing away, hindering my reading, so I am going in circles. As I begin to settle back into the passage, I hear soft singing and stop again.
Rosenrot comes out of the rose bushes, slipping through them as they open up. They step out onto the stone path, and the roses close behind them. Rosenrot is still singing, an old melody in a language I do not know. As they finish watering the roses they just stepped from, they turn and see me.
“Good afternoon, Sir Yves,” they wave to me with their elegant hand. “It is so good to see you.”
I set my book aside just to gaze at them. “Yes, it is, uh- a good afternoon, I mean,” I chuckle in embarrassment and stand up from my seat. “It’s good to see you, too.”
Rosenrot chuckles. “What brings you out here today? Did Rosso have another one of his infamous arguments?”
“Not so much that,” I reply. “But he has been dealing with some business with his brother.” I sigh and let my shoulders sag.
“Oh, well, no wonder you are here.” Rosenrot nods his head understandingly. “The brothers have not gotten along since they were so young.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” I shake my head. “They got along at one point, but I suppose growing up can change people.”
“I have two siblings myself,” Rosenrot says, laying their palm against their chest. “I have not seen them since the palace split.”
“Really?” I gasp. “I didn’t know you had siblings.”
“Now you do,” Rosenrot chuckles. “One works for Bianco, and the other works in the Queen’s garden.” They sigh and shake their head. “I have missed them. I can only hope that one day the brothers end their feud and reunite the palace. But from the sound of things, I do not know if they ever will.”
“I try to talk to Rosso, to make him see that unifying is the best option, but I don’t know sometimes. It feels as if both brothers won’t come together unless there is something else, or someone else, who can unite them.”
“A someone?” Rosenrot replies in a bright voice. “Do you think there is such a person who could be shared by the brothers?”
I laugh a bit. “I know. The two can’t even share a palace, how are they supposed to share someone?” I shake my head. “It is just an idea, but I think it would have to take a pretty mighty person to be able to perform such a feat.”
Rosenrot picks up their watering can again. “Are you upset that that person isn’t you?”
I glance back up at them. “Me? No.” I wave my hand dismissively. “I know it could never be me. I was always closer to Rosso, and I knew from the beginning that I was on his side. I was never in the middle. But I have always hoped I could change Rosso’s mind in some way,” I confess. “Make him see that the best way is the way with his brother.” I let my arms flop to my sides. “But I don’t think I have the right words for that.”
“Is it words you need?” Rosenrot tilts their head to the side.
“What else have I got?,” I grumble. “I’m an advisor. I’m not a carpenter or artist. I don’t have the skills to be visual. I’m not even a walrus who could tap out messages with my tail.” I grunt and shake my head. “All I have ever had is words, whether in my mouth or on a page.”
“I think you need to give yourself more credit, Sir Yves,” Rosenrot shakes their head. “Like you said, maybe the best option to unify the palace again is a person of magnificent ability. But there must be some way to get that person here, a sort of first domino.”
I furrow my brow. “A first domino?”
Rosenrot comes towards me and we sit down together. “You have played with dominos, correct?” they ask. I nod. “The dominos won’t fall until one does,” they explain. “The first domino has to fall if all of them are going to. And there may be a lot of them placed in order or in a detailed pattern,” they continue. “But that first one needs to get them into motion.”
“How would I even convince Rosso to start looking for someone?” I laugh. “Just go up to him and say, ‘Hey, find a bride you and your brother could share!’ I chuckle, then break off with a sudden gasp. “No.”
“No?” Rosenrot tilts their head closer to me.
“Rosso doesn’t even need to be aware of that plan. I can ask someone else, someone who would be able to bring in the right person, and the brothers wouldn’t be able to argue.” I gasp again and clap my hands together at the epiphany. “Merah Muda!” I cheer loudly and jump to my feet.
Rosenrot chuckles softly. “If this is how you work, might I say I really like it?”
My cheeks burn, and I quickly sit back down. “You started it,” I laugh softly from embarrassment. “You flipped my first domino, so to speak.” I smile up at them. “Perhaps you’re the first domino in all of this.”
Rosenrot shrugs. “I wouldn’t want the glory for that. I am just happy I could help you at all, Sir Yves.” They place their hand over mine on the seat. “I have seen you out here so often, stewing over papers or looking anxious as you eat. I have always wanted to be of service to you somehow.”
My heart is thrumming like mad in my chest. “You don’t need to worry about me like that, Rosenrot, really.”
“I know I don’t, but I enjoy it in my own way.” They move their hand away as they stand up from the bench. “I should get back to work,” they say. “So much to do in the gardens before it gets dark.” They take up their watering can again, and I notice the handle has been repaired crudely, and the spout looks broken at the end.
“Right,” I say with a nod. I stand up as well, then smooth out my clothes. “Thank you again for your help.”
Rosenrot bows their head. “Always happy to help. If you ever need it again, I will always be here.”
As I leave the garden, I kiss the back of my hand where Rosenrot touched it. It had been such a gentle and insignificant gesture, but to me, it meant the world. I could understand now why lovesick teens claimed they would never wash their hand again after their love touched it. I felt lucky - beyond lucky - to have had that moment with Rosenrot.
I go and visit with Merah Muda, mother of Rosso and Bianco, that evening. I have tea with her in her quarters, which are located between the separated palaces. I tell her the idea I have, merely suggesting it to her. After all, it has to seem like her idea, and not some outward influence, for her to really latch on to it. I mention that an unbiased liaison between the two fractured brothers would be wonderful - but at the same time, I say I feel it would be impossible to find such a person.
I can already see the gears moving in Merah Muda’s head, so by the time I leave her I feel like my objective has been accomplished. It isn’t long before she starts searching for someone who can provide counsel and an unbiased view between the two brothers. Now all I have to do is sit back and watch as the dominos fall into place, much like Rosenrot said.
I want to find a way to thank Rosenrot for their help, but I’m not sure what I can do. I don’t know if there is a gift I can give them that they would like. All I know is that Rosenrot loves the garden, and that they are beautiful. I then remember Rosenrot’s watering can, the broken handle and spout. Perhaps they would like a new one.
I go out and find a gardening shop that sells them, and buy one of the nicest ones they have. I make sure the handle is comfortable to hold. I wrap it up, and that evening I go to the garden to deliver it.
The garden is dark, but the little cottage within it where Rosenrot lives is lit up, looking cozy and warm. I knock on their door, then feel a spike of anxiety at the idea that I am disturbing them. I begin to set the gift down for them to find when the front door opens.
“Oh, Sir Yves! What a surprise,” Rosenrot gasps.
I gasp in return, and quickly right myself so that my back is straight. “Sorry, I hope I am not bothering you.”
Rosenrot shakes their head. “Not at all. Would you like to come in? I was just putting on some tea for dinner.”
“I don’t want to put you out or anything.” My heart is pounding fast.
“You really wouldn’t,” they shake their head. “I would genuinely enjoy your company.” They step aside to allow me into their home.
To my surprise, their house is filled with potted plants of all sorts. There are small trees, creeping vines, tiny succulents, and many types of flowers. As I look around their home, Rosenrot closes the door and goes over to the stove, where the kettle is whistling.
“I’ve not seen so many plants inside a home before,” I marvel.
Rosenrot chuckles. “It’s a hobby. My family has always been gardeners. Being around plants has always just been natural.” They pull out a chair at the table. “Come sit down, please. I’ll make you a cup.”
“Thank you.” I hold out the gift and set the package down on the table. “This is for you, by the way.”
“Really?” Rosenrot sets the kettle aside. “What for?”
“As a thank you,” I reply. “For helping me the other day with my problem.”
Rosenrot looks over the gift for a moment before tilting their head to look up at me. “You didn’t have to do this. I told you, I was happy to help you solve your little problem.”
“It meant a lot to me,” I tell them. “I just wanted to show you my gratitude as best I could. I wasn’t exactly sure what to give you, so I hope you like this.”
Rosenrot opens up the package, taking the watering can from inside. “How lovely,” they breathe. Their voice is soft and gentle. “You must have seen the ragged shape mine was in. I have been waiting until the very last moment to get a new one.”
“You like it, then?” I ask in excitement.
Rosenrot sets the can down. “Very much so. Thank you for the gift. I have had mine for so long, I’ve not really wanted to give it up. But knowing you got this for me will give me the incentive to retire my old one. Perhaps I’ll make it into a new pot for a new plant. That way, I will always have it with me.”
“Sentimental, are we?” I chuckle.
“Very much so,” Rosenrot says with a nod. “I have a hard time letting go of things, which explains over half of my collection here.” they say as they return to the kettle. “Most of these are plants that would not have survived, but I was stubborn and took on the challenge to save them. Some I found as weeds in the garden, and others I discovered walking around the palace.”
“I think that’s very sweet,” I murmur.
“I’ve been called a hoarder,” Rosenrot chuckles. “How do you like your tea?”
“Honey,” I reply.
Rosenrot’s petals tremble for a moment, then they turn back to look at me. “I have several kinds of honey. Any preferences?”
“Oh,” I gasp, “I wasn’t aware.”
Rosenrot nods then turns to the cabinet. “I’ll let you have some of my favorite. It’s expensive and hard to find, so I rarely share. But for you, I’ll spare some.” They take out a jar, then spoon a dollop of honey into the tea and set my cup down at the table.
“Thank you.” I take a sip of the light-colored tea and try to guess the flavor.
Rosenrot sets their fingertips into their teacup then turns to look at me. “For you, it’s just tea, but for me, this is my meal.”
“I don’t mean to sound rude,” I murmur, “but is that how you eat?” I glance to their fingers in the cup.
“My vines drink it, like roots in the soil.” Rosenrot chuckles. “Have you never been acquainted with a Prim before, Sir Yves?”
I shake my head. “I’ve seen some in the palace when I was younger, but you are the first one I have come to know personally,” I admit. “Prim are very rare, or at least, that is what I have been told.”
“We are rare here in Miror,” they say with a nod. “But back in our home of the Great Garden, there are many of us. We just rarely leave.”
“Did you live in the Great Garden?” I ask.
Rosenrot shakes their head. “My parents left before I was born. You see, my mother was a human woman, but my Zaza was a Prim. They met when she became lost in the Garden and my Zaza took care of her. They fell in love, but because of the stigma of it amongst the Prim, my mother and Zaza left to live their lives together.”
“That’s so romantic,” I sigh dreamily.
Rosenrot chuckles. “Do you enjoy romance, Sir Yves? I would think high-minded people like you would be more interested in history and politics than romance.”
“Not true at all,” I reply. “I have always enjoyed romance novels. I used to sneak into the royal library to read them in the dark aisles. I have a soft heart for such things, I must confess.”
“Do you dream of having a wife and children, then? Having some fantastic romance and a happily ever after?” Rosenrot takes their fingers from the teacup and wipes them on a cloth.
I glance down for a moment as a nervous bubble comes up in my gut. “I enjoy romance,” I mutter, “but there are parts of it that make me uncomfortable.”
Rosenrot lays their hand on their chest. “Is that so?”
I glance up to them then chuckle softly. “It must seem silly, for someone to be so enamored with the idea of romance, yet completely repulsed by other areas of it.”
“You’re only making me as curious as a cat, Sir Yves,” Rosenrot laughs softly. “If you wish to talk about it, please share. Otherwise, I have many things I can tell you about the garden to fill our conversation.”
I smile at them. “I don’t mind sharing, and I wouldn’t mind knowing more about your work in the garden either. But I rarely share this side of myself, because I am scared of what people will think.”
“I am Prim,” Rosenrot replies, “not ‘people’.”
I smile at them, then glance down at my cup. “I used to have a boyfriend back in school,” I tell them. “I loved him very much and was happy with our relationship. The only thing was, I was scared of the physical intimacy that he so desperately wanted. I wanted to please him, to make him happy, but sometimes, I felt like even kissing was too much to ask of me.” I take a long sip as I feel the anxiety in me rise up.
“One night, he convinced me that we should have sex. He thought that if I did it just once, then that would cure me of it. But…” I stop myself and stare off into the distance.
“Yves?” Rosenrot asks gently.
“I’m sorry, I-” I swallow down the painful lump in my throat. “It was a very bad night for me. It also let me know that while I wanted to love someone and could love someone, I could not be sexual.”
“We have a term for that,” Rosenrot reaches out and takes hold of my hand. “Prim are not sexual beings,” they reply. “My Zaza would pleasure my Mother, but they derived no pleasure from it other than making my Mother happy. My Zaza would have been happy all their life without the act. But you sound a little more repulsed by the act. In Prim society, we call that Gris.”
“Gris,” I say the word slowly. “I had always thought there was something off with me,” I murmur.
“Not off,” Rosenrot shakes their head. “Just you.”
I smile at them. “I feel better talking to you about this. Like I said, I’ve only ever really told my sister.” I then sigh. “She works for Bianco.”
Rosenrot laces their fingers with mine. “Do you enjoy holding hands?”
I nod. “I do.”
“And what about hugging?” Rosenrot asks.
I squeeze Rosenrot’s hand in mine. “It depends on the person. I have to know them very well.”
“I’m sorry you had a bad experience in the past. You deserve someone who understands you and your body’s needs.” Rosenrot tilts their head towards me. “May I make a confession of my own now?”
“Yeah,” I gasp softly.
“I enjoy romance too,” they chuckle. “I have always loved poetry and old love letters. My mother used to keep this very old book that was stuffed so full of them. I would pore over them and daydream of the day I would receive such a lovely letter,” they sigh dreamily. “Then, one day, I saw someone who made me want to write such a letter. They were handsome, kind, and a little awkward, but I liked them right away.” They squeezed my hand tight. “They visit my garden often and when I see them, I always have the urge to write them a letter.”
My heart is going so fast as they speak to me. “They sound very lucky.”
Rosenrot chuckles softly. “You are, I think.” They then stand up and take a diary from under one of the plants. “I have written you a letter every time the urge comes to me.” They hand me the diary. “I knew I was too afraid to give them to you, so I wrote them in there until I knew I could hand it over to you.”
“Rosenrot,” I whisper gently.
“Read them,” they murmur. “I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I want you to know how much you mean to me.”
I stand up and take Rosenrot’s hands in both of mine. “I’ll read them, but I know I don’t need to in order to know my own feelings.” I squeeze their hands tight. “I come to the garden just to see you. I’ve admired you since we first met. I’m just sorry I never had the courage to write you a letter or tell you how I feel.”
Rosenrot giggles excitedly and holds my hands up between us. “Will you write me one?”
I grin. “I’ll write you dozens.”
