Chapter 2: The Rose
The next morning, Euphemia di Britannia woke early, being accosted by a bright ray of sunlight slipping through her eastward facing window.
She groaned and flipped over, pulling the pillow over her head. "Nyup, nyup," she smacked her lips, wrinkling her nose as she did so. Clearly, pistachio flavored ice cream was a bad thing to eat before going to bed.
She idly considered ignoring the taste invading her royal tastebuds, but eventually her sensitivity got the better of her, and she, with a little stiff effort, flung off the sheets and threw her legs over the side of the bed.
As she stretched, something caught the corner of her eye as somewhat out of place.
She got up and moved cautiously closer.
No wonder the sunlight had awoken her; the curtains were slightly parted. Before her mind could wrap around the idea of having a midnight snooper, she noticed it—a single pink rose with a soft babysbreath spray, in an elegant vase, there on the window seat.
She smiled and leaned in to sniff; as she did so, she noticed a tiny, pink paper crane lying next to the vase. She picked it up and pulled the tail, as Suzaku had shown her once, to see the wings move.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, as the delicate crane unfolded in her hands.
On the inside was written a message, in beautiful, but undeniably masculine, handwriting.
"Beautiful Euphemia" (it read) "your smile is like a thousand sunrises."
She blushed slightly as she put it back down, and a far off smile grazed her features. How very dear of him; rather than a flamboyant display of garish flowers, he had brought only the one delicate rose. But...exactly how had he gotten the rose into her bedroom?
Then something struck her.
Hurriedly, she opened the window and looked down. Four stories down, a guard halted and waved up at her. She waved back and closed the window.
"You've got to be kidding me, Suzaku," she murmured to herself. "You climbed up four stories in the middle of the night, without getting caught, carrying a crystal vase, just to deliver a rose?'
She blushed again, much redder this time. It was the most romantic thing anyone had done for her yet, and she had had plenty of romantic advances.
That afternoon, she took a couple of body guards with her to meet Suzaku at the Lancelot base.
Cecile-san had to regretfully inform her that Suzaku was in a training session and it was likely he wouldn't finish until very late that evening.
"I'll wait," said Euphie stubbornly; but unfortunately, Cecile-san wasn't joking.
She sighed as she was summoned back to the royal headquarters before he got back.
The next morning she woke up later than the previous day and remembered the rose. Eagerly, she got up and trotted over, expecting another pink rose with the first one. That always seemed to happen in romantic stories, right?
To her disappointment, there was still only the one rose. She sighed as she turned around and called her maids to come help her dress. Of course, Suzaku had been out late last night; naturally he wouldn't have had enough energy to climb the wall again.
She selected a dress that Suzaku had told her she looked particularly sweet in. As the maid helped her tie the laces, she felt something drop from the bodice to the floor.
She stooped down, to the dismay of her maid, and picked up—a second pink rose and crane. She smiled absentmindedly as she inhaled the sweet scent that only the pink roses have. This time, she deliberately unfolded the crane.
"Gentle Euphemia, no garment could ever hide your beauty."
She blushed a little. Scandalous, Suzaku! Ah well, it's not like he had that on the brain; he only meant to compliment her.
Alas, the day was completely booked with royal, meaning boring, activities. Thus, she missed her knight yet again.
And so it continued that week, up until the ball.
The third rose was brought in on a tray with breakfast ("Sweet Euphemia, your lips are more delicious than the most scrumptious cake.")
The fourth was waiting on the rim of her bathtub ("Pristine Euphemia, what waters are pure enough to cleanse your lovely skin?")
The fifth accompanied a velvet box with a delicate necklace ("Dazzling Euphemia, your eyes sparkle more brilliantly than the most expensive diamond.")
The sixth, and final, arrived the morning of the ball. She could smell it from the moment her eyes opened; it was placed softly on the pillow next to her face.
She placed it in the vase with the others and opened the crane.
"Lovely Euphemia," it said, "how I wish I could watch you wake up every morning. Alas, a mere rose must have the privilege."
She sighed. It had been almost a week since she had met with her knight. She groaned. Too long! She also, wished for a day when it wouldn't be a rose gracing her pillow, but the brown locks of her beloved.
The day passed, not a moment without a thought about him. Because she would see him this evening; he would take her in his arms, and they would dance...
She was dressing when one of her maids brought in a tray with a note, inscribed on silk paper, of a sort which she'd never seen before. She frowned slightly as she took it in her hands and opened it.
It said, simply, "Meet me in the gazebo in the garden, the one surrounded with pink roses."
She held it to her heart.
