Authors Note: My stories tend to have a twist at the end, so do read it
all, no matter how plot less it may seem halfway through. And do tell me
what you think about it. Please?
Title: Of lilies, roses and broken hearts.
Summary: A third person narrative on both Lionel's and Lex's feelings on Lillian Luthor. Chapter 1/1
It's quite absurd how people equate names to a person's personality. Alexander equated to Alexander the great while Lillian equated to lilies. It's the first thing that strikes people when flowers are brought up. "Oh, her favorite flowers must be lilies. They're just like her, simple yet elegant." Unfortunately reality isn't always what it seems to be. And it was for this reason that Lex stood in front of his mothers grave holding a bouquet not comprising of a single lily.
He could remember that day vividly. Cold and frightened he had stood by her bedside, trying his best to focus on wilting carnations instead of her pale and deathly face. Suddenly he just had to know. "What flowers do you like mummy?" Granting him a rather sad smile she had answered "Contrary to the popular census they're not lilies Lex. They're all hollow inside. I prefer Blue Bird Roses, full of color and brimming with life. Plus I've always had this obsession with flying. Why such a sudden question Son?" At the obvious irony of her answer he had run out of the room, muttering inaudibly "They're for your gravesite."
And he'd tried, he really had. Phoned every single florist in town only to receive a cold impassive mumble "Its too cold for them child. They have to be imported." In sheer desperation he had in the end approached the one person he knew could help him. Trying his best to keep the imploring tone out of his voice he had managed to coolly explain the situation to his father only to receive a hard glare and a "Get over it Alexander. You won't get anywhere if you don't. Now about what you say to the press..."
Eventually Lex no longer needed his fathers permission to import a bunch of flowers and so it was today, over a decade after her death that he tenderly lay down a bouquet of Blue Bird Roses, trailing a finger in the dust "From your loving Son." It was then that he drove home, emotionally battered but tears refusing to fall, believing that he was the only person who loved Lillian Luthor.
And yet he was not to have that privilege. If he had returned to the site, hours later in the dead of the night he would have seen a limousine pull up, its driver get out, walk slowly to the grave stone and place a single Blue Bird Rose next to Lex's. If he had stepped closer, or seen clearer he would have noted that the man was none other than the eminent Lionel Luthor, the devil incarnate, his father, trailing a finger on the dust, writing next to Lex's note as he had done every year since she had died.
"You're a Luthor. You'd better be flying."
Title: Of lilies, roses and broken hearts.
Summary: A third person narrative on both Lionel's and Lex's feelings on Lillian Luthor. Chapter 1/1
It's quite absurd how people equate names to a person's personality. Alexander equated to Alexander the great while Lillian equated to lilies. It's the first thing that strikes people when flowers are brought up. "Oh, her favorite flowers must be lilies. They're just like her, simple yet elegant." Unfortunately reality isn't always what it seems to be. And it was for this reason that Lex stood in front of his mothers grave holding a bouquet not comprising of a single lily.
He could remember that day vividly. Cold and frightened he had stood by her bedside, trying his best to focus on wilting carnations instead of her pale and deathly face. Suddenly he just had to know. "What flowers do you like mummy?" Granting him a rather sad smile she had answered "Contrary to the popular census they're not lilies Lex. They're all hollow inside. I prefer Blue Bird Roses, full of color and brimming with life. Plus I've always had this obsession with flying. Why such a sudden question Son?" At the obvious irony of her answer he had run out of the room, muttering inaudibly "They're for your gravesite."
And he'd tried, he really had. Phoned every single florist in town only to receive a cold impassive mumble "Its too cold for them child. They have to be imported." In sheer desperation he had in the end approached the one person he knew could help him. Trying his best to keep the imploring tone out of his voice he had managed to coolly explain the situation to his father only to receive a hard glare and a "Get over it Alexander. You won't get anywhere if you don't. Now about what you say to the press..."
Eventually Lex no longer needed his fathers permission to import a bunch of flowers and so it was today, over a decade after her death that he tenderly lay down a bouquet of Blue Bird Roses, trailing a finger in the dust "From your loving Son." It was then that he drove home, emotionally battered but tears refusing to fall, believing that he was the only person who loved Lillian Luthor.
And yet he was not to have that privilege. If he had returned to the site, hours later in the dead of the night he would have seen a limousine pull up, its driver get out, walk slowly to the grave stone and place a single Blue Bird Rose next to Lex's. If he had stepped closer, or seen clearer he would have noted that the man was none other than the eminent Lionel Luthor, the devil incarnate, his father, trailing a finger on the dust, writing next to Lex's note as he had done every year since she had died.
"You're a Luthor. You'd better be flying."