Work Text:
White Lily Cookie deserved to die.
Not that she had done wrong, she never could.
Her heart was pure, her spirit radiant, her passion endless, and her strive for balance.
She didn’t deserve death, she deserved peace. Long, eternal peace. An endless calm this war-torn world could never grant.
Yet as I watch her fade away, knowing it’s what she wanted, I feel my heart shatter. She chose this; I never could.
She stands before me, light slipping through her form like sunlight through glass. Her dough is crumbling…
And yet, she smiles.
I cannot understand how she does that.
I reach out before I can stop myself. My hand trembles in the air between us, desperate, foolish. As if I might hold her there simply by refusing to let the moment pass.
But my fingers meet nothing.
Not her.
“White Lily Cookie…” The name leaves my lips softer than a prayer. I have spoken it a thousand times before, laughing in the academy gardens, whispering over books late into the night, calling after her when she wandered too far ahead.
The wind stirs, carrying her crumbs through the air. One brushes against my shoulder.
My chest tightens.
“Was it worth it?” I ask before I can stop myself. My voice cracks in a way I hate. “All of it?”
The silence that hangs between us feels endless.
Seconds slip by like sand through an hourglass, and when she finally finds her voice, each syllable is a fragile jewel I cling to. I drink her words, tasting the sweet ache of a goodbye that will never be spoken again, knowing the moment will end in ash.
And surely,
It does.
A single white lily gracefully floats down to the ground, perching atop the pile of crumbs. Its stem is slender, its petals wide and glossy, catching the dim light and reflecting it back, like a mirror of misery.
Grief crashes over me, choking the breath from my lungs. My chest tightens, and for a heartbeat I am paralyzed, the world reduced to the thought of her.
When the pressure finally eases, I sprint toward the heap of crumbs that was once my closest companion; more than a friend, a part of myself.
The fragments of her former self litter the ground, and among them the lone lily glimmers. I snatch it up, the cool stem trembling in my palm, and tears spill down my cheeks.
“Don’t leave me…! Don’t leave me, not like this!” My voice shatters the quiet, raw and jagged, far from its usual grace. It cracks on each word, the syllables choking on sobs.
“I still haven’t told you… how all those moments, what they really meant to me…”
My eyes sting, and I bow my head, letting the tears fall onto the lily beside me. The petals catch the drops, turning them into tiny beads of crystal that glitter like morning dew.
My fingers quiver as they brush the delicate white blossoms. This is all that remains of her.
Time passes.
A lot of time. Weeks, maybe more. I stopped counting. It still isn’t enough to forget her. I don’t think it ever will be.
Since then, the other Ancients and I planted gardens of lilies in her name, one in each of our kingdoms. It felt… right.
I visit the one in mine every day.
It’s quiet there. Peaceful in a way that almost hurts.
The lilies have started to bloom properly now, white petals opening toward the light. They remind me of her in ways I can’t really explain without my chest tightening.
I think she would’ve liked this place. I think she would’ve knelt down beside them, brushing her fingers over the petals, smiling like she’d just discovered something wonderful.
Sometimes I sit there for hours. Sometimes I talk. Not out loud. Not really. Just in my head. Like if I think the words clearly enough, they might still reach her somehow.
I tell her about the kingdoms. About how things are getting better, slowly. About how I’m trying, really trying, to do what she believed I could do. It feels important that I try.
Because she chose this.
And I still don’t fully understand it, even now. I don’t think I ever will. But I understand her. Or at least, I think I do.
She believed the world was worth it. So I stay.
Even on the days where getting out of bed feels heavier than it should. Even when the garden is empty except for me and the wind, I stay, because she can’t.
A breeze passes through the lilies, soft and quiet. For a second, the petals shift in a way that makes my breath catch, like someone just walked past.
I sit up a little straighter.
“White Lily Cookie..?” I say, barely above a whisper.
There’s no answer. But the garden doesn’t feel quite as empty as it did before.
And maybe that’s enough.