Blossoms in the Moonlight
"Good evening, Miss Hawkeye," said the tall dark-haired doorman, opening a door double his height. "Please, do come in. Master Edward will be arriving shortly."
"Thank you, very much" Riza replied with a curtsy in her long, black, strapless dress. "Mr.…?"
"Mustang," Roy stepped aside to clear her path and bowed low. "But you may call me Roy."
Riza nodded, smiling pleasantly to him, and stepped through the doorway. Her black high-heels clicked lightly on the marble floors, but the front room into which she stepped was so vast that even that quiet sound echoed for what seemed like forever.
Smoothing the sides of her dress with her hands, covered in velvet gloves that extended a few inches above the elbow, she slowly began to take in the mansion which she currently occupied.
If it had appeared grandiose on the outside with its long pathway and reflecting pool in the courtyard, it only became more eminent with the enormous red-carpeted staircase that lay in front of her now. Had she been so inclined to walk it, she would've ended up having to choose between traveling the railed pathway to the left or right; both had several doors along the wall, and one at the end to lead to a separate wing. The front room in its entirety was relatively simple, as it held only the staircase and could be presumed as merely a way to tease the curious for what other wonders might reside in this mansion.
Custom paintings of various landscapes, animals, and what could be assumed as late relatives, as well as famous paintings no doubt bought by the current or previous master hung in various places on the high walls. Each one was extravagant and charming, but when her eyes fell on a certain one, however, she felt her breath come out in a quiet gasp, and she took a few quiet echoing steps towards it.
Millions of butterflies flew across the inked night sky; below them was a seemingly endless meadow. Spots of red, white, yellow, and blue could be seen within the green, but it was not the flowers that truly caught her eye. The butterflies weren't merely flying through the indigo sky-they were creating it! Each couplet of wings blended gradually into azure horizon, and the delicate powder upon them trailed behind them to create each brilliant speck of stardust. And rising slowly in the background was a glorious moon, shining onto the field with such detail and grace it almost seemed one could touch it.
"My late father bought that for me two years ago on my 16th birthday. I've had it up ever since then."
Dressed all in black, save for the red rose dressing his tuxedo and white accessories, he gave her a welcoming smile when she turned, startled, to face him. His aureate tresses were kept in an unbraided ponytail, which hung down his back in an elegant yet nonchalant manner; save for the bangs framing his eyes of the same color, and the single stubborn strand of hair which would never be restrained.
"It's a lovely painting," Riza complimented, placing an imaginary flaxen hair behind her ear.
"Yes, I'm quite partial to it myself," Edward said, closing the gap between them enough to take hold of her hand. He bowed low and kissed her fingers, "My apologies for keeping you waiting, Miss Hawkeye."
"Not at all," she smiled and curtsied lightly. She could feel his lips through the fabric of her glove, and their warmth sent her heart racing. "And you may just call me Riza."
"As you wish, Riza," Edward straightened up with another soft smile. "I'm quite certain you're curious as to why I called you here. But I'm afraid I must deny you an answer until a later time, my lady. If you don't mind staying curious?"
"On no, Edward, I'm quite content to be here at all," turning the softest shade of pink, Riza placed her hands behind her back.
"Wonderful!" There was a new excitement behind his gentlemanlike demeanor, and that enthusiasm manifested itself when he went to her side and hooked their arms. "Then come, my lady! There is much I wish to show you!"
Before she had the chance to give an answer past a gasp, he began to walk towards, and then up, the staircase with her quickly following suit. They turned to go through the door leading to the west wing, and soon the shutting of that door echoed in the front room. Roy, the sleepy doorman, grinned and winked in their direction, following the pair with his eyes before chuckling and leaning back against the heavy oak.
Edward and Riza, still locking arms, walked quietly through a series of hallways. Occasionally, he would pause, look through the window of a random door, and then tip his head to say they could now continue, or sometimes they would go through said door and into another long corridor. He would never admit it, and she would never tell, but it seemed even the master got lost in a mansion this size.
It was surprising how the amount of people they met decreased the further they moved to the west. At the beginning of the first hallway, there had been at least ten or fifteen people to move aside as they passed. But with each door they either passed or opened, that number would lower, and now there wasn't a soul around.
At last they seemed to come to their destination: An especially old-looking aperture with a small arched window to see through. Finally releasing her arm he gestured towards it, "After you, my lady."
Mumbling bashfully that he needn't be so formal, Riza turned the knob and eased the door open with a quiet creak of the hinges.
The night was silent, save for their footsteps as they walked out onto the stone balcony and the click of the door when it shut. Immediately in awe of what she saw, Riza placed her hands on the guardrail, while Edward, reveling in a different beauty, stood next to her.
Stretching all the way to a small line of trees were thousands of roses; seeable only by the moon as it rose higher in the twilight. Pink, red, purple, white and even the occasional splash of gold created an artwork all their own, twisting and spiraling on green stems over the canvas. Even with just the moonlight, there could be seen light wings dancing from stem to stem throughout: Butterflies.
"Edward…It's…" but no words seemed substantial enough to give this sight a title.
"Father planted every one of these, by hand, for my mother. I remember him saying it was a wedding present," Edward's eyes softened as he looked and spoke to the moon. Riza turned her head to him, and then listened after a pause when he continued. "They would never let me come up here; Mother was scared I'd…fall or something. But Father was reluctant for a different reason: He said I should only stand on this balcony with a rose."
Riza smiled quietly, "Quite a cryptic requirement."
"Yes, indeed," Edward chuckled, but then his moonlit eyes became serious, thoughtful. "Do you fancy roses, Riza?"
"They make a handsome blossom, yes. I suppose you could say that."
With another chuckle, Edward smiled and turned to her, "Roses aren't an uncommon flower; and they all boast a common beauty. But it's the rare ones that are truly exquisite." He eased off the railing and took a step closer, making her blush and blanch at the same time.
"I believe, that there is one kind of rose that greatly overshadows the rest. A rose with softer petals," he took another step and placed one hand on her cheek, "a more slender stem," his other hand found its way down her side to rest at her hip, "a sweeter aroma," he leaned in to nearly touching noses and took in a long breath, letting it out again just above her lips.
Riza, at this point, was long past breathing, let alone responding. All she could do was look into his eyes.
"That rose, my lady, isn't a common red," taking his hand from her cheek he slid it up into her hair. With a group of the strands held in thumb and forefinger, he brought his hand to his lips and kissed gently her golden tresses, "It is a yellow rose that holds such sublime beauty. And it is the yellow rose I love."
"T-that you…love?"
"Yes, Riza." His voice became a whisper, "That is why I called you here on this moonlit night. I have at last found my rose-my rare blossom of loveliness, my precious flower. My love." A smile crossed his lips. And when his breath finally failed him, he dropped the hair in his hand and pulled her to him with both arms around her; pulling against him the rose's svelte stem before pressing his lips against the warmest, softest petals.
Butterflies danced through her head as they had in art and nature, making her next breath that much harder to take and her mind that much dizzier. Using what strength remained in her trembling body, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him in return with passion greater than any amount of roses could ever express.
"But Father, why can't I go out and see the garden too?"
"Edward, you must be patient. Someday you will find a rose; then, and only then, will you know the true beauty of this garden"
"A rose? Then I'll just go pick one!"
"No, my son. You must find your rose; you cannot just pick one from the crowd. Trust me, one day you will find that one special rose, as I found mine."
"But how will I know it's my rose, Father?"
"It will be the rarest and most beautiful of any flower; though I cannot say exactly how it will appear. But whatever the rose's appearance, you will cherish it like no other; value it above all else, adore the petals, the stem, the scent. And you will know it is your rose when that adoration is returned to you. Your rose will also cherish you and everything about you. These feelings from and for you and your rose will never wither; for that love will keep it always in bloom."
"Hmm…Alright! Someday, I'll find my rose. And when I do, we'll look over the garden together every night!"
