Simple
Like always, there was a prince, and there was a princess. Like always, there was a stormy night in which, under the flashing lightning and thunder, two children were found and taken in. Like always, things were not as simple as that.
There was a girl.
When she was younger, her pet name was 'little canary', and she would laugh and sing to her crimson-haired brother like the brightly-colored bird that was her namesake, and he would play with her curled golden hair as though he was Rumplestiltskin, sifting through the princess's treasure. She would call him her prince, and he would call her his golden-haired little bird, and they would be their secret names for one another.
She was covetously protective of him, guarding him like a treasure that belonged only to her, for he was hers and would always be hers, as long as the moon and stars kept shining. She only ever shared him with one person, the boy from her parent's friend's family, because he was odd and she was curious about him, and she'd sneak glances at the dark-haired boy from the cover of scarlet velvet curtains hanging from the doorways of her brother's room.
And there was that boy.
He was night to her brother's day, quiet and shy, speaking only to her brother and never to her. He was polite, aloof, and as cold as a black ice statue, with staring violet eyes that seemed to look right at someone without even seeing them.
It was a game to her to make him talk to her, for whenever she entered the room the conversation ceased, and the boy would look straight at the floor and not move until she was safely out of the way once again. She was reminded of the fairies in books, who would never come out unless there were no humans around. She would bring tea for them, hovering over her brother's friend until he was forced to say 'thank you', in that quiet voice that wavered just between shyness and annoyance. She'd ask questions directly addressed to him, finding every terse reply a prize well-won.
When she grew, she was full of laughter and false tears and innocently flirtatious smiles, with long blonde hair that curled so, and scarlet-painted lips that pouted on cue. She was naïve, resentful, over-protective, but absolutely beautiful, with a face like an angel and eyes such a deep indigo you could lose yourself trying to find the end of them.
She loved yellow.
And she was yellow. Everything she did was painted in a brilliant hue of gold. When she spoke, her voice came out in high, pale tones of lemon yellow, and when she laughed, it was golden.
He was all wrathful looks, dark glances and depressed moods. Every movement he made radiated an inner fire, sullen and smoldering, burning with a low, searing flame. He had transformed from the quiet, polite child to the angry, resentful young man, jealous of the crimson-haired prince who was always in the sunlight.
His color was green, always green, which was the color of life but also the color of the jealously that burned within him and writhed like a dying snake. He was the lowly country knight, forever in the shade of the golden prince, the shadow that could not exist without the brilliant light of the flame. He despised it, and sought to outshine the prince, to finally be equal, even superior.
Like always, the knight reached for the princess to claim her hand. Like always, the knight fought for her love in a duel. Like always, the knight won. Like always, things were not as simple as that.
The princess he had won was darkly mysterious, gentle, graceful and docile, like a doe. But also like a doe, she was fey and wild and had to be caged so she would not run free. And he loved her, for she was the symbol of his victory, and she would claim to love him every night, her wild dark curls tumbling over him, soft dark skin embracing him and pulling him into her spell. She sang her witchsongs that seemed to unravel his soul, her voice rich like spices and caramel.
There were times when he was gentle, when he treated her like she was his very world, and there were times, when the sullenly burning flame in him raged high, and in the heat of that fury he struck her. And even though afterwards he was apologetic, trying to soothe the angry red bruises on her skin, the princess's eyes grew dark and cold.
Like every wild animal that refuses to be tamed, the princess resented her captivity, and rebelled against her captor, but quietly, for she had once loved him, and he had once been kind. The princess was won by another prince, who outshone the knight and left him in the shadows once more.
And the knight sunk further into the wild and unforgiving darkness after the loss of his princess, as the demons that sprang from his fire of jealousy began to destroy him from within. The violet eyes grew wilder, and the quiet boy became lost within the flame.
The little golden bird, who still watched the dark-haired boy from the shadows, saw this and sent her three retainers after the princess, for the dark-haired boy was still the only one she'd ever share her brother with, and that dark-haired boy had become hers, for even through his angry madness he had never raised a hand to the little fair-haired princess, though she was the sister of the one he hated.
The hated princess was saved by the gentle boy, the shyly quiet pianist that remind the little princess of the dark-haired boy, the pianist with the quiet kind eyes, and the quiet kind smile, who would always have time to talk to her. Now the pianist, the dark-haired boy, and her shining prince of a brother were all drawn to the deceitful dark-haired princess, the witch that the little golden bird despised and wished to be rid of. She struck with tiny talons, pecked ineffectively at the dark-skinned girl who was stealing away the ones who were hers, and finally took up her own golden sword against her.
Like always, the prince defended the princess against the enemy. Like always, the jealous girl was defeated. Like always, there was a happy ending. Like always, it was not as simple as that.
Time went by, and more duels followed, the little golden bird and the dark-haired young man always fought, always lost, always were left behind in the shadow of the two princes. The duels came and went, then finally came to an end, and those who fought were made to forget the dark-haired princess and her noble prince, but they were left with the faintest shadows of remembrance.
The hollow cage of an abandoned greenhouse, filled with roses that grew wildly, and entangled with each other.
Memories of curled dark hair and an endless blue sky.
The scent of roses.
Dried petals roses of yellow, of green, of crimson.
A ring, shining a dull silver, embossed with the pattern of a rose.
And at the end she stood in the birdcage of a greenhouse, wondered at the winding thorns and vines that entangled the roses that grew wildly, without rhyme or reason, and wondered why she felt as though she had been standing there before. He stood behind her, and half-recalled the caress of a coffee-colored hand, a flash of silver and a cry of pain as bruises stood out on brown skin, green eyes that swallowed in the light and reflected…
Eternity
And she remembered the gaze of cold green eyes, an enigmatic smile that curved the lips of a girl who always kept her hair wound around her head, and the low voice that would sound innocent but hide so many things.
And they both felt as though they should know this place, and were both uneasy in the presence of the tangled rosebushes, as if they thought the knotted vines would part, and some monster would step through.
'So, you came too?' The girl asked, 'I saw my big brother come here before, and then Miki, too.'
'I feel like I should know this place, that's all.'
'I don't see why you should,' she replied, and while she spoke she played with the waxy green stem of a yellow rose, 'It's just an old rose garden. No one even takes care of it anymore.'
'Then why are you here?' He asked.
She faltered, twisting the stem in her nervous, pale hands. 'I…I was just curious. Miki, and Juri, and my brother all come here. I wanted to know why.' It was a game to her, just as everything else was, for she was young and could not comprehend anything that could be too serious. She had wanted to know why the others would stand in that wire cage to look at the roses, wanted to understand why they had that expression on their faces, as though they were trying to remember something they had long forgotten.
He didn't say anything, and for a while, she didn't either.
'It's nothing special, anyway.' She said, breaking the silence. 'I thought it was, the way everyone looked at it. But it's just an old rose garden that needs tending. I won't come here again. It's boring.'
'It is,' he agreed. 'But it makes you think. It makes you remember'
'Who needs to remember?' asked the little golden bird, 'After all, you probably forgot it for a reason.'
And he seemed to want to argue, but fell silent anyway, and thought about time between classes spent in the cage of the greenhouse, and of hours of trying to remember the cloudy recollection of green eyes and dark hair. Time went by quickly in the greenhouse, and it seemed to draw people in like a spider draws in flies.
'Maybe.' He finally agreed, and she smiled and took his hand in hers, just as she did when they were small.
Like always, the enchantment is broken. Like always, the prince and the knight become friends once more. Like always, the golden haired bird watches the dark-haired boy behind the velvet curtains. And sometimes, it is just that simple.