Chapter Text
White Lily's steps came to a halt before a shimmering lake, reflecting the moonlight of a waxing moon. The iridescent light did little to soothe the images that flashed before her inner eye. She could still hear the deafening screams of her men as they were torn to shreds. How these sharp, black, hand-like ghosts ripped through them like a knife through warm butter.
She still couldn't believe it. The fight at the seal, how that beast had tried to escape.
The knights who were marching right into the bared fangs of evil. The claws ripping through them, tearing them in half.
How her mentor was impaled by one of these, his armour doing little, next to nothing, as his last breath was spent on a bloody scream, before the beasts hand lashed out, dropping him to the floor.
A tear broke the surface of the water, sending the moonlight into a ripple. She hadn't even noticed the dampness under her lashes.
Elder Faerie's body had dropped limp onto the floor, wings bloodied and spread out beneath him on the ornate silver tiles. and the taunting, sickening laughter from within the silver tree had mocked his death.
Every last bit of the day was engraved in her mind for life. Elder Faerie had always been her mentor, her father figure. So it was only natural, that after the seal was stabilised by her, that she'd be the successor of the responsibility he used to bear.
The queen of the faeries. The guardian of the seal.
Sighing, she slumped against the bark of a tree, drawing her knees up to her chest. To the dewdroplets on the grass she had paid no mind, and alas they were soaking small, gray spots into her white dress. A few more ones bloomed on the fabric that draped across her knees, yet those weren't from the dew, but from her tears.
Butterflies, their wings coloured in shades of blues and yellows gathered around her, as they often did when she was outside. She hadn't paid enough attention to them, as they had been fluttering around her for a while now. A yellow one settled on her open hand, and she mustered it.
It was a picture that could've been taken right out of a painting. Her serene expression with which she was observing the creature, ever the faintest stains trailing down her cheeks to her jaw, and even the way her hair and wings spilled over the lush grass behind her.
Though that serenity was interrupted by a rustle from the bushes nearby.
Her green-tinted wings fluttered nervously, and she glanced into the direction, not quite making a move to get up yet.
A cloaked figure emerged. Black and dark blue robes, with a distinct, golden key shape trailing down. A large, cone shaped hat enveloped their blond hair, locks spilling ever so slightly over their shoulders. It was marted in the middle, revealing a star on their forehead and making way for their heterochromic, gold and blue eyes. The person held a staff, a flower with many eyes that gazed directly at her, creeping the princess out.
A hand swiped over their shoulder, brushing away a few leaves that had stuck themselves into the fabric.
White Lily drew their attention with an 'ahem' of clearing her throat, and asked, ever politely, "Can I help you?"
The person stepped closer, in a voice, deeper than her own, "Do you know the way to the faerie kingdom?"
A blink from the girl. "I'm afraid the kingdom is in shambles at the moment, and is not really of interest for visitors." Despite his gloom appearance, there was a certain...sweet scent to him.
He closed his eyes – the first time she's seen him do that since the start of their interaction, actually – and shook his head, "I'm well aware. That's the very reason I came by." He strode past her, and into the forest where she had come from, following the marks in the grass from her earlier steps.
The queen tilted her head in curiosity, her wings fluttering just an inch as she stared at the back of the figure, "you came to... see ruins and rubbish?"
"My master told me to check out how much chaos he has caused. I don't have interest in it, nor any kingdom for that matter." He bit the inside of his cheek. Probably shouldn't have said that to the queen of this very kingdom. Despite that, he still didn't look at the faerie in white.
"You're...Shadow Milk's disciple? What's your name?" There was a gentleness in her tone, a wary sense of welcome, as if she couldn't believe this calm, almost tired soul could be of the messy beast that had ruined her kingdom. "You don't strike me as someone to follow...him."
For the first time, he looked at her fully, turning back and settling into the dew-covered grass where she sat slumped. There was a good foot of space between them, his staff placed by his left, her being to his right. "I'm but a truthless recluse of who I used to be. I have accepted that lies and deceit taint every truth that exists, and have lost interest in it. Shadow Milk is but someone who took me in and showed me this reality."
When he looked up, a blue, shimmering butterfly had settled on the back of his hand, which rested in his lap. She had noticed, too.
Ever gently, he raised it and leaned over, placing it in her waiting hand. White Lily's gloved finger traced gently over the wing of the creature, watching it flutter and fly back onto Truthless' hat. She stifled a laugh behind a polite hand.
They stayed like that in the quiet of the forest, the only noise being from the wind sweeping through the trees and bushes, and the animals alike. Though her thoughts were anything but as peaceful. Her kingdom was in ruin, many knights wounded and others dead. The role to guide them into prosperity, prepare for the next attack, lay heavy and unexpected on her shoulders.
The feeling of another tear slipping down her cheek was lost to her, until a – surprisingly warm – hand brushed it away. White Lily's head snapped to the side, where he sat, quiet as ever. "It's no use crying about something that you can't change. You're doing nothing but staining your pretty face and gown."
His hand dropped to the space between them, unbeknownst that her own lay there. Glancing down, however, Truthless didn't immediately remove it.
"You could've gone to the kingdom, why did you stay and sit with me?" White lily asked, holding back a choked sob, her fingers tightening in her dress.
The butterfly flew away over the lake, his eyes following it, "I couldn't just leave the queen of the kingdom I'm visiting crying by herself in moonlight."
"You could've." She replied flatly.
Truthless' eyes flicked to their stacked hands for a moment, before lowering back to the water, "It wouldn't have been appropriate. I'm not Shadow Milk. I don't have anything against you or this kingdom. Seeing someone upset is nothing i get elated over, unlike him."
The robed cookie rose once more, taking the staff into his hand, his other uncovering the queen's to the night's breeze. "I hope I've brought some relief for you."
The faint flutter of White Lily's wings wasn't lost on him, as she retracted her hand back into her lap. She got up beside him, plucking a white flower with two fingers from where they bloomed beside her, and tucked it into his hair, right behind his ear. The smallest hint of surprise crossed his expression as he recognised the scent. A white lily.
"The Faerie kingdom welcomes you, if you ever decide to leave your life in deceit behind," She said softly, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "You're nothing like him. Like your master. You're... quite different, in many aspects. I'd like to see you around." A wave of awkwardness washed over her, flushing her cheeks slightly as the weight of what she just said settled over her, "If you ever change your mind, of course."
Truthless nodded, attempting to hide his face under his hat ever so slightly, his staff blinking at her nonetheless, "Thank you for your hospitality. I- I'll think about your offer."
And just like that, he stepped into the direction of the kingdom once more, leaving her by the lake.
White Lily sat down once more, but her head didn't droop downward to the water. No, this time she looked up at the moon. The Butterflies dancing over her line of sight every other moment.
Truthless reminded her of a dream she used to have ever so many times before. In it, she would always dance with a cookie with blond locks, one eye the colour of a gold as vibrant as day, the other the blue of a serene, moonlit night like this one. A star on his forehead that matched the one that hung low on her crown. And a smile as compassionate and gentle as she never saw before.
In her dream, the scent of her lilies often mixed with the scent of delicate Vanilla. Their dances would occur on a similar field as she was in right now, between dew-covered plants and glowing butterflies, flying around the two of them in a rhythm that came from their hearts.
And her visitor, Truthless Recluse as he had adressed himself by, carried ever the faintest scent of vanilla, one she had breathed so many times in her dreams.
White Lily shook her head, as if trying to banish the wistful thinking, trying to focus back on her kingdom being in shambles. She had probably sat in one spot so long that the scent of her own lilies has intoxicated her into such wistful dreams.
...But oh witches, how she wishes those dreams weren't a repeating, imaginary yet endless yearning, but a reality, with who she thought she just met.