Work Text:
“Sew me a dress like the yellow iris”, the queen ordered her three lovely seamstresses. “Take the rarest silk, spun fine and bright like sunlight. Ruche the fabric like petals. I will be proud and strong, the stem that carries, as always.” She walked back to her wrought-iron throne head held high, sure that her order would be carried out. The seamstresses began their work immediately. The first carried a bale of yellow silk, perfectly spun and woven. The second carried pins and needles and almost invisible thread. The third seamstress, the loveliest of them all, carried a hidden knife.
Highest flower above a lake of flowers, the queen was resplendent in her yellow dress when her servant returned from the task. “One single stitch”, the last seamstress said, kneeling at her queen’s feet, looking up to the beloved face amidst silk like ruffled sunlight. She did not regret a thing, and when she laid down her weapon it was with a smile. “One single flower”, the queen replied quietly, proudly, and drew her faithful assassin up for a kiss. The silk rustled. The blade, never forgotten for even one second, silently slid into silent waters below the iron throne.