Chapter Text
She was thirteen, then.
She had gotten a job working at the palace. Not as a lady-in-waiting, for she was of too low a status. Nor as a chef, for she could not cook well. Neither was she a maid, although she could clean fairly decently.
She was one who tended to the King’s garden. He was quite fond of flowers.
Some may say that being a gardener was nothing to be celebrated, but she did not care for those people. It was a thing of glory that she got accepted at all. She was small and not very strong. She couldn’t lift too big a shovel, and she couldn’t lift too heavy a pot. However, she’d kept a flower on her windowsill, just to talk to whenever she was lonely, for she had no friends. When asked about her talents during the screening, she mentioned her lonely plant on her windowsill, and she was ordered to bring her flower to the castle. She thought it odd, but she did as told.
The man screening her took one look at her lonely plant, and declared it one of the finest blooms he’d seen. She didn’t think it very unique, but it had landed her a job at the castle’s gardens, and for that, she was happy.
There was already a list of chores waiting for her: re-pot the tulips, water the roses, and de-weed the east side of the garden bed. Also, she had to plant new seeds of a flower she hadn’t heard of before.
Persicaria orientalis. A fine name, although, she had not a clue what it meant, or what kind of flowers would grow from it. She would have to ask a well-seasoned gardener about how to care for it. She decided to complete her other chores first. She tied up her hair, green like the leaves around her, and got started.
Completing the chores on her list were harder than expected. Like mentioned, the girl was quite weak for her age. De-weeding took the longest, but she managed. She’d been underneath the blazing sun for an eternity, it felt like, but might have only been a few hours. After the girl had pulled out the last of the pesky weeds, she was handed a cold case of seeds and directed to a few empty flower beds. She was told someone would come to help her.
The girl walked slowly, enjoying the light breeze and the feeling of grass under her slippers. The sun wasn’t so agonizing anymore, and she appreciated the light tingle of the spring sun’s warmth on her face.
She reached the flower beds eventually, and looked around. The spot was hidden on the end of the garden nearest to the castle, with no windows overlooking the secluded beds. The beds themselves were under plentiful light. There was a white fence behind them, and a picturesque gate, both covered with knotted vines, and the path leading to it was overgrown. The girl appreciated the seclusion, but she didn’t fancy the idea of clearing all those plants (especially after the excruciating work of de-weeding the garden...). However, before she could be properly displeased, someone walked up behind her.
A boy, around her age, maybe a bit older. Boys didn’t prefer garden work, preferring to work in the farm, or maybe even the stables, so she thought it odd that he was heading her way. She also thought it odd that the person who would help her would be so young. He had unkempt hair, bright, like lavender, and his uniform was caked with dirt and grime. The girl had managed to keep her own uniform fairly clean, but she assumed that her fate was the same as the boy’s.
The boy smiled and introduced himself, saying he’d only stay around for a while to teach her how to care for the plants. He explained why the seeds were cold, he explained how the soil should be for these plants, and he helped her plant the first few seeds. It was fairly easy to understand, and the boy seemed to have a true fascination for the flowers. He encouraged her to come to him with any questions, and then, he left her in the serenity of the secret garden.
This was how her days went for a while: do her chores, go to her secret garden and care for them, and maybe talk with the bright-haired boy if she needed to. She liked the repetitiveness of her job, and she would’ve kept it that way, if it weren’t for a surprise visitor.
She was in her secluded garden as usual, watering the Persicaria orientalis seedlings and hacking away at the vines on the gate, when she heard a low voice. It was commanding, but still gentle, and it was ordering someone to stay right by his side. The gardener turned to look over the gate and saw a tall man walking forward. The gardener panicked: she knew there was a precise way of greeting and talking to the people in the castle, but she had not a clue of what the etiquette was for such things. The only conversation she’d had was with the bright-haired boy and her flower that she was allowed to bring. She was too timid to talk to anyone else.
A quiet creak came from the white gate. Quickly, the gardener bowed. The man chuckled and told her that it wasn’t necessary. The gardener apologized, flustered, and watched the strange man as he walked deeper into the garden. Then, something ran up behind him.
A young girl, quite a bit shorter than her, with short, soft hair the color of azalea. She bounded up behind the man, skirts swishing around her legs. The smile on the girl’s face was bright enough to rival the sun.
The gardener’s friend came over. He said that they were needed. The gardener gently laid down her tools and began to walk. She saw the tall man and the sunny girl talking to the head gardener.
The gardener and her friend were then told to gather loads of flowers. Then, they were to give it to the tall man and the girl to take to the castle. The king was quite fond of flowers. The gardener felt her spirits drain just hearing how many flowers she had to bring. She’d much rather be tending to her secret garden.
After gathering all the flowers she was told to, the gardener and her friend met with the garden’s guests. The flowers were passed along: from the boy to the tall man, from the gardener to the sunny girl. The girl’s hands were soft; the gardener blushed. The girl thanked her, bending under the weight of the bouquet, and then they were off.
The gardener returned to her garden after that. The seeds she had planted almost two weeks ago had begun to grow into seedlings. Her heart warmed seeing the fruits of her care.
The next month, the man and the sunny girl were back again. They were there the next month as well, and the next, and then the month after that.
This was how her days went now: doing her chores, going to her secret garden of seeds, which were now beginning to grow into seedlings, maybe talking to her friend, and giving the sunny girl flowers every month and feeling the softness of her hands.
She was thirteen, then, and the seeds had just begun to grow.
