A/N: Okay so this idea has been swimming around in my head and I wanted to just see what other people thought. I may or may not continue, but enjoy anyways.
Pamela Isley pulled her coat tighter around herself, hiding the leaves that were her clothes. Her fiery red hair was pulled back into a neat bun, and if anyone were to pass they would have no idea who she really was. Not that they could. The city of Agrabah was far from Gotham City, and it wasn't as if the Bat would hunt her down simply for having a short vacation. Ignoring the Bazaar stall owners as they called out and described the goods they had for sale, Pamela continued towards the palace. Stuck in the middle of the desert, Agrabah was no place for any sort of flora to grow, but the palace somehow managed to have the most magnificent garden for miles. Or so they said. Pamela almost smacked into the towering palace wall, and she forced herself to concentrate on where she was going.
But how to get inside. Pamela thought, thinking to herself. She glanced around and when she was sure no one was watching her Pamela closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could feel them, the plants contained within the palace walls. Trees, grass, blooming flowers and crawling vines. Pamela concentrated on the vines, speaking to them, cooing to them softly. Happily to have the company, the vines grew and stretched over the wall, gently picking Pamela up and placing her back down inside the confines of the wall. Pamela opened her eyes, and if it weren't for her own beautiful garden back in Gotham her breath would have been taken away. A picture of beauty, the garden in full bloom and bathing in the rays of the sun.
"Oh, aren't you all so lovely?" Pamela cooed, squatting down to stroke a hand over the grass, before she heard something and straightened. A cry, a pain-filled moan of sadness. It cut through the joyous greetings of the other plants, and Pamela found herself walking across the grass to the other side of the palace, a hill that was really nothing more than a bulge in the earth drawing her view. A single red rose was planted in the middle of the hill, head drooping even though it was in full bloom. Pamela was filled with sadness as she knelt down beside the rose, cupping it in her hands delicately.
"You poor thing." Pamela moaned sympathetically. The rose was the source of the agonized cries, calling out for Pamela to help it grow and bloom, filling the garden with its beauty. What else was Pamela to do but help to ease its pain? Pamela took a step back from the hill, raising her arms. The rose lifted its head, leaves spreading as it started to grow. Pamela expected more roses and vines to start spreading, but to her surprise the rose grew upwards on a single stalk. From the stalk spread bright green leaves and tree-like branches, a red spilling from the back like part of a robe. Pamela's eyes widened and she gave a quiet gasp as what looked like a man finished growing from the innocent rose, which now rested on the figure's chest where his heart would have been.
"I'm...free." The man made of plants said with surprise, looking at himself. He turned his head towards Pamela, who was still in shock.
"It's rude to stare." He remarked, and Pamela blinked before regaining her composure.
"I thought you were a rose." Pamela said, "Who are you?" The man made of plants looked Pamela up and down with thoughtful suspicion before gesturing to himself.
"I am Arbutus." He introduced himself.