I had recently fallen back into my Bridgerton obsession and it very much inspired this fanfic even though it's not a Bridgerton or regency AU (although I have one in the works but no promises). It's still set in the magic dimension, just no Winx Club and villains - their existence is up for interpretation
Also, Helia's name has always been Helia Knightly to me, I don't know where it started or who coined the name, but it's stuck so…
This was supposed to be a one-shot but I spiralled and it got out of hand. Enjoy:)
Chapter 1
Flora had been such a fool.
How could she have ever thought that they could be together? That he would want her just as much as she wanted him.
She'd been such a fool.
Get your head out of those clouds, girl. Everyone would chide her, Her mother, her teachers. Flora had always been a dreamer, and she'd been warned time and time again that one day it would hurt her.
And, they'd all been right because just when she thought her dreams would finally come true, it had been shattered into dust with just a few words.
"We are glad to announce that her Majesty, Princess Krystal of Linphea and the Ambassador of Melody, Sir Knightly are now betrothed and set to marry this coming spring!"
The ballroom had erupted into thunderous applause at the joyous announcement, but to her it sounded more like a storm destroying the world around her. No one even noticed the sound of glass shattering when the champagne flute slipped from her grip as her body went slack, no one heard the choked gasp that was ripped from her throat when the air in her lungs was knocked out of her.
No one noticed when she turned and dashed out of that ballroom; her heels clicking loudly against the marble floors; the tulle of her gown rustling as she ran. The guards ignored her when she ran past them and out into the pouring rain; they didn't help her when she slipped on the steps and fell to her knees, the heels of her shoes catching and tearing the fabric of her gown.
Despite the heaviness of the rain crashing down her, drenching the beautiful blush pink gown that she'd spent months making just for this occasion — just for him to see her in it — Flora continued to run across the vast courtyard once she forced herself up and off the Palace steps, heading straight for the lone greenhouse, the place she had called home for the past two years.
She tripped again, losing her shoes somewhere in the grass and when she finally reached the steps of the greenhouse with sharp pains shooting up her leg, she held her hand out and unlocked its glass doors with her magic before bursting into the only place she had ever found solace in.
The greenhouse was dark, with only the bright full moon shining through the tall glass ceilings, faintly lighting up the large house built to conserve and grow the most rare plants of Linphea. In the daytime, it was a bright and lively place, never failing to put a smile on her face every time she opened the doors and got to work on taking care of the plants. But, at night, it was a gloomy place and in her depressed presence, the flowers seemed to have wilted.
Flora numbly walked past the rows and rows of roses, carnations and lilies and so many other plants that she had cared for with her own hands until they blossomed but now drooped miserably. She was waiting for the tears to come, to mix along with the cold droplets of rain as they ran down her face, but there were surprisingly none. There was no stinging in her eyes, or ache in her throat that she'd expected. There was only hollowness in her chest that was once filled with hope.
Hope of a life; One filled with love, and marriage, and a home, and children. Hope of a life with him.
Dreamer. Her mother and her teachers used to call her. It's all in your head.
Flora's father, the wonderful man whose kind smile she'd inherited, would always tell her and her little sister otherwise. He taught them to aim for the stars, to work for what they wanted. To dream so big, it'd become the sole reason to get up each morning.
She had listened to him instead of her mother and her teachers. And, for the first time in her life, she wished she hadn't.
Dreamer. They'd been right. It's all in your head.
Flora's mindless walk faltered when she spotted the white gazebo that had thick vines with wilting pink flowers twisted around its stone pillars and over its dome ceiling. Her knees threatened to give out once more when the wave of memories crashed over her. Everything came rushing back; all those lazy mornings they'd chatted away while sipping their tea; the quiet evenings when she'd work on her plants while he scribbled away on his notebook; the nights they'd spent laughing over a shared bottle of wine.
It had all been in her head.
Her legs moved on their own as they made their way up the stairs of the gazebo until she collapsed onto the pink velvet chaise. She sat waiting for the tears, to unleash the grief of losing what had never been hers in the first place.
There was a bottle of wine on the clothed round table in the middle of the lounge area, along with two glasses and a vase full of withering roses. That was when she started to notice the other details, the unlit candles that were hanging from the ceiling of the gazebo and the wrinkled petals scattered all over the floor, the tablecloth and chaise. It would have been a swoon-worthy set-up had the candles been lit and the flowers alive and not ruined by her sour mood. But, for whom?
The realisation dawned on her when she recognised the bottle of wine, the same red that she always drank with him. It was his favourite after all, hers too.
The first tear finally fell from her eye.
He had proposed, hadn't he? The possibility that the betrothal could have been arranged by the court vanished, taking with it the last remnants of hope that this could all just be a misunderstanding.
I'd been dreaming of him, when he'd been clearly dreaming of her.
It made sense. She hadn't seen him all night, and Princess Krystal had disappeared quickly after her entrance at her Princess Ball. The first time and only time Flora had seen him tonight was when he stood at the top of the grand stairs; In his fine navy suit and medals, with his long hair neatly combed back and tied into a low bun except for that stubborn strand that fell over his ever stoic face; the Princesses' arm looped through his as she stood beside him in all her beauty that Flora could never compare with.
Right before the announcement.
Flora didn't wait to see how either of them had reacted, had left before she had to witness the happiness on the faces of the newly engaged couple.
Her mind conjured up the image of him smiling at the princess with fondness and love in his blue eyes, the way she always hoped he'd look at her one day, and the next tear fell. Another and another fell, until the sound of her crying accompanied the heavy pattering of rain against the glass walls and ceilings of the greenhouse.
Flora shivered, and hugged herself tight. Her wet gown that was once full and grand was torn at the hems from her fall, her hair that was once carefully curled and pinned back was damp and sticking to her skin. She looked nothing like the girl that had excitedly gotten ready in her small room that afternoon, stuffing herself into an exquisite dress a simple gardener like her had no business wearing and putting on makeup to hide the freckles on her face, dreaming of spending the evening dancing away with the Knight that had stolen her heart.
She will never be that girl again after tonight, although it was a wonder if she would even make it through the night before she surrendered to the biting cold that would take away all her pain and heartache. Yes, maybe she wouldn't have to suffer through moving forward, to having to face him and everyone again as though nothing had happened. Staying wet would make her sick, and if she succumbed to her illness, she wouldn't have to pretend like he hadn't broken her heart.
The girl she was before would have worried that he might be sad if she was gone, after all he had told her that she was the only one in the Palace whose company he enjoyed. But, he clearly preferred the Princesses' company now if he was willing to marry her, content with throwing Flora off to the side. He didn't need her anymore, even if she needed him to breathe.
Flora should have known. She should have seen the signs.
How could she have ever thought for a second that he would pick her? She was just Flora, the Royal Gardener. The girl who always had some sort of stain — be it soil or potions — on her dress and on her face. Whose hands weren't dainty and smooth, but calloused from hours spent gardening. Who sometimes preferred the company of plants to people. Who had tanned and freckled skin from long days of labour in the sun and had plain brown hair that was always tangled into a braird. How could someone like him, who was the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on, pick plain old her when he could have the Princess of Linphea?
Princess Krystal and him had known each other their whole lives, having grown up in the Palace together. Just because she'd shown up two years ago, fresh out of Alfea college as the newly appointed Royal Gardener, and formed a friendship with the lonely Knight who never got along with the courtiers despite his job as an Ambassador between Linphea and its allied realm that he called home, didn't mean he'd ever choose her over his long-time friend. After all she was just a gardener — who couldn't possibly compete with the Princess — and he was a Knight.
A Knight she'd accidentally crashed into on her first morning in the palace when she'd been rushing around the greenhouse getting acquainted with the unfamiliar place, almost knocking him over with her clumsiness;
The Knight who'd assured her it was all fine, and that he simply visited the greenhouse during his free time to sketch the plants, and was used to having the place to himself ever since the previous gardener fell ill months ago so he hadn't noticed her; The Knight who was the first one in the Palace to not talk to her with contempt or as if they were shooing off a pesky fly who couldn't stop asking for directions because never in her life did she think she'd ever step foot into the Royal Palace let alone work there.
The Knight who then went on to become her sole companion in the large and lonely greenhouse, who'd share conversations with her over their favourite books and her favourite plants and his favourite artwork, who had asked if he could draw her while she worked — just for practice, he'd insisted when she'd blushed — and then filled his sketchbook with countless drawings of her elbow-deep in the soil with stains all over her dress and apron.
The Knight who became her only friend, who showed her around the Palace and would borrow her books from the libraries, and steal her favourite pastries from the kitchens all for her; The Knight who'd brought her to festivals where she danced and laughed with crowds of strangers while he stood at the side, content to simply watch her lose herself in her happiness.
The Knight who'd cheer her up whenever she missed her family, who made her laugh and loosen up during those lonely nights with a bottle of wine and gossip he'd overheard during those boring court meetings he was forced to attend.
The Knight who'd ignored his duties to spend time with her, who'd become the receiver of her first 'good morning's and last 'good night's, who'd politely kiss the back of her hand before he'd leave to travel when duty called and who'd bring her back gifts from wherever he went.
The Knight who became her friend, and then turned into the man whose shy smiles she began to yearn for, whose stealing glances turned her into a puddle;
The Knight who occupied her thoughts day and night, who made her feel warm and hot with his gentle voice and touches; The Knight she had fallen in love with.
Flora cried, having finally gotten the answer to the question she'd been silently asking for the past two years, of whether he loved her back.
It had simply all been in her head.
"Flora!"
She ceased her crying at the voice that called out to her from somewhere deep in the greenhouse, its owner hidden by the thick foliage.
"Flora!" It called out again, desperate and familiar. She knew that voice, she knew it very well.
"Helia?" She whispered to herself, wondering what he was doing here of all places.
"Flora!" He sounded louder now, and he was close to discovering her presence. She quickly wiped away her tears, uselessly brushed back her wet strands of hair and stood up as she straightened her dress. He cannot see her like this, so distraught over his engagement when she should be happy for him as his friend.
"Flo-" When he finally came into view, both of them froze. There was relief in his eyes that he had finally found her, and tension in his shoulders for some reason that she couldn't decipher. Surprisingly, yet unsurprisingly, he was almost in the same state as her; drenched from head to toe, probably from running through the rain like she had. He was even holding onto the pink heels she'd lost on the way to the greenhouse. But why?
Why was he here? He should be at the ball, dancing with his new fiance and accepting the well-wishes of the people he will one day rule over. He shouldn't be here in the greenhouse, all wet and breathless like he had run miles to get to her.
Why did he look so upset? Why was he not saying anything? Why was he holding onto the pair of pink heels she'd lost on her way to the greenhouse? Where was his damn jacket that had all his shiny medals pinned to it? Why did he have to be in his white shirt that had turned translucent from being drenched in the rain and stuck to his body that she swore was sculpted by the skillful artisans back in Melody?
Why was he here, with her?
Flora was the first to snap out of the silent staring between them, forcing a smile on her face that she was sure looked more like a grimace. "I guess congratulations are in order-" She was about to say his name — oh, how she loved his name — but then caught herself and forced out the title she should have been using all along, the title she'd have to call him anyway once he married the Princess. "-Your Grace."
He stepped back like she had slapped him across his face. "Don't do that."
Flora kept quiet, mostly out of anger. She didn't want to play his game anymore, didn't want to let him destroy her more than he already had.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, oh so casually, although there was a hint of iciness in her voice that had him narrowing his eyes at her.
"I could ask you the same thing, Flora." He began to climb up the stairs of the gazebo as his low voice vibrated through her body, making her shiver but she passed it off pretending it was because she was cold. She wasn't. Not anymore, not when the sight of his toned chest and strong arms were on display through that bloody drenched shirt of his. She was hot with anger, and anguish, and something else she did not want to name.
"I just needed some air."
"Really? Is that why you're all wet, because you needed some air in the middle of a storm?" Helia's eyes drifted to the slit in her dress that had torn up to the middle of her thigh, his tongue darting out to catch the drop of rainwater that dripped down his pale face and onto his lips.
"What are you doing here, Your Grace?" The title felt so foreign on her lips as she repeated her question, but she'll get used to it. She has to.
"I told you not to do that." He ordered, coming to a stop a few feet in front of her, throwing her shoes he'd been holding in his hand onto the chaise.
"Do what?" He was clearly getting irritated by her faux innocence but what else did he want her to do? Scream at him? Demand why he made her fall in love with him, just to break her heart?
"Don't act like a stranger, don't act like you're fine."
"I am fine." She snapped at his audacity to suggest that she was the one who was at fault here. Helia remained quiet, staring right into her eyes as though he was trying to break down her walls and get a peek of what she was truly feeling inside. His gaze was unnerving as it was unbreakable, his blue eyes hypnotising as always. Helia stepped forward in an attempt to close the distance, but she stepped back and he blinked, breaking the trance.
"The place is beautiful. Princess Krystal must have really loved the proposal." No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make herself sound happy about it.
Helia's eyebrows furrowed in confusion that further confused her. Why was he acting like this? Like he hadn't just gotten engaged to the Princess and was going to become the King of Linphea. Like he had no idea why it was tearing her up on the inside.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked softly, letting her facade crumble for a while. "Why didn't you say you were going to ask the Princess to marry you?" She didn't mean to sound accusatory, she didn't have the right to be. But, she had at least been his friend, hadn't she? And, friends told each other when they were going to propose to someone. Helia not reciprocating her love was one thing, but to also have their friendship reduced to this? That broke her heart even more.
"I didn't ask her, Flora." Helia softened, his face growing weary and tired. "I didn't even agree to this engagement. I had no say in this, and I didn't even know until they announced it."
Her eyes widened in surprise, she hadn't expected that; had thrown out the possibility mere moments ago upon seeing the romantic set-up.
"Then, what's all this?" Flora gestured weakly to the table and the petals.
"It's not for Krystal." Helia spoke so softly, she could barely hear him over the rain rattling the greenhouse.
"Then, whose is it for?" She asked when he didn't deny that he was the one who set this up. She was secretly afraid of the answer because now hope was dwindling in her again, ignited by the fire in his eyes as he looked at her in a way no one else ever had; in a way he never looked at anyone else she realised.
Helia didn't answer her, but stepped forward once more, slowly getting closer and closer. "Why did you run out of the ball?"
Why was he doing this to her? Why was he forcing words out of her mouth that she shouldn't be saying?
He came nearer when she didn't respond, and soon he was right in front of her, towering over her as he looked down at her with an intensity that drew her in and made her want to run away at the same time. Flora shivered again when his hand came up to cup her face, the cold skin of his palm gently laying against her damp cheek. She should move away from his touch, but soon it went from feeling cold to spreading warmth across her face and down her body. And, when his thumb swiped at the mascara stains around her swollen eye, she froze.
"Why were you crying?" Helia asked, the devastation evident in the soft whisper, as though it hurt him to see her like this. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering close when he grew bolder and let his fingers snake into her hair.
"Flora." She could feel his hot breath on her face when he rasped her name, could smell the wine from the ball that drew a sinful sound from the back of her throat.
Helia's other hand rested on her waist, and he pulled her close as she came willingly. His hand on her cheek shifted further to the cup the back of her neck, tilting her head up until she could feel his lips hovering over hers.
Flora felt like she'd been transported back to her dreams. The ones she never thought she'd dream again. The guilty-pleasure aroused by her dreams of being pressed up against the shelves of the libraries or the velvet seat in the gazebo or the hard mattress of her bed resurfaced. How many nights had she spent lying awake, imagining how it'd feel like to have his lips on hers. How many nights had she spent, imagining her fingers were his as she twisted in her sheets. But, that's all they'd been, just dreams; figments of her imagination.
This wasn't a dream. The possessive hand on her waist and the back of her neck, the heavy breaths caressing her mouth, the rise and fall of his strong chest pressed so tightly against hers, it was all real. And, as right and good as it felt, it was all wrong.
Because, in her dreams, she was all his and he was all hers. In reality…He belonged to someone else.
Flora pressed her palm against his chest and pushed him back, stepping away from him at the same time. She refused to look at him as she turned away, moving to the other end of the gazebo to get away from his luring presence.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" The embarrassment in his voice surprised her and she stopped in her tracks. "I'm truly sorry, Flora…I know you have feelings for Igor…"
Flora whirled around to face him, and she stumbled when she was met with agony written all over his handsome features.
"What?" She questioned, startled by his words. "What are you talking about?"
"You don't have to hide it anymore, Flora." He fixed her with an accusing glare, although the sadness in his body was clear as day. "I saw the way he looked at you before he left…and, the way you looked at him."
"I have no idea what you-"
"I know you've been exchanging letters!" Helia snapped, fists clenched at his side. Flora stumbled, taken aback by the sudden change in his voice. He'd never spoken so harshly towards her. She'd never seen this side of him; hadn't believed the rumours of his fierceness during battles and missions.
He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, pushing back the wet strands that had fallen over his face as he took a deep breath. Helia refused to look at her as he spoke in a softer voice, eyes fixed on the ground. "During the last winter solstice, when he'd been invited to perform, I remember how excited you were to meet the famous Ice Skater, Igor from Dyamond. You couldn't stop talking about him for weeks…"
Helia rolled his eyes, and Flora slumped down onto the Chaise, refusing to believe what she was witnessing. Was Helia…jealous?
"I remember how badly you wanted to skate at the frozen lake so I brought you to the festival and watched while you swooned over him. I stood by and watched when he invited you to skate with him. Do you have any idea how it felt to watch him put his hands on your waist and make you laugh and blush the way I wanted to-" He shook his head as he trailed, now turning away from Flora completely until his back was facing her. "And, when he left with promises of writing to you…I wished on every star that you'd forget about him and his promises. And, then I found the letter you wrote in reply to his...The one sealed with the flower of love, meant for the one who has your heart. Do you have any idea how it felt to-"
Helia's voice cracked, and her heart mimicked it. She'd never seen him like this, so distraught she ached to reach out to comfort him but she was also frozen to her seat as she tried to understand how she could possibly cause him so much pain.
"I couldn't eat, or sleep…I couldn't even look you in the eye anymore. So, I left for Melody. I lied to you that I had a mission to attend to and that I'd return even though I planned to never come back. But, I couldn't stay away from you for more than a day. And, despite knowing that I'd have to spend the rest of my days in agony, standing by your side while watching you fall for a man who was realms away…I returned because hell was better than being away from you."
Those words he spoke…They were familiar. Flora had heard them before, no, she'd seen them scribbled in his notebook when she'd taken a peak. She'd seen the suffering woven into the poem he'd written, but she'd been blind to the muse who'd instilled that pain since he had never named them.
Helia let out a mirthless laugh as he continued, not once turning back to see how Flora was crumbling at his confession. "But, the way you smiled at me every morning when I walked into the greenhouse made all the torment worth it. You know why I started bringing you the letters that the mail fairies delivered to the palace? I loved the way your face would light up when you'd find that your parents, or your sister or your friends had written to you. And, it stung when the same smile I yearned for became something I dreaded seeing on your face when you'd find out he'd sent you a letter as well. You always said I was a good man even though others don't share the sentiment, but you have no idea the amount of times I've been tempted to intercept his letters to you, to throw them into the fire before you could read his words and fall for him more. I fought the urge to read those letters myself and confirm my fears, but I know you, Flora. And, I didn't have to read the letters to know you love him…"
"You don't know me at all, Helia." She was surprised she'd found the voice to speak those words, and he too turned around, eyes wide as though he'd half expected her to have run off during his monologue. "You don't know me at all."
Helia stared at her as she let silent tears fall down her face. Then, he shook his head. "If I truly don't know you at all…then, what's all this?" He gestured to the gazebo, and she cluelessly looked around trying to understand what he was talking about.
"What is this?" She asked, tired of his vagueness. Igor had been writing to her for months, and she'd had absolutely no idea that Helia had felt this way the entire time, not a single clue. How was she supposed to know he even cared that Igor wrote to her when Helia had gone on as if nothing was wrong? Just like she'd tried to pretend like she didn't care about his betrothal to the Princess.
Helia exhaled deeply, worn out and tired. He didn't even look this exhausted when he'd return after weeks of working on his missions, even then he'd somehow find the energy to come visit her first to inform her of his safe return before he let himself rest. He looked defeated as he stumbled towards the table and Flora watched wearily as he grabbed the wine bottle and poured the red liquid into one of the glasses.
"Helia!" She called out when he downed the glass in one gulp but he ignored her. He was quiet as he poured himself another glass, and Flora began to lose her patience. She knew it took a lot out of him to open up to her the way he just had, but she needed to know the truth. So, she forced herself off the chaise and marched towards him. Flora snatched the bottle from his hand, compelling him to look at her. Her desperation must have been evident on her face and so he finally confessed.
"I did all of this for you."
She stepped back in disbelief, "What?"
Helia closed his eyes as he hung his head low. "Igor's arriving from Dyamond in a few hours. He asked for my help to-" He struggled to continue what he was saying, until he met her eyes that she was sure were filled with a thousand different emotions.
"He's planning to propose to you tonight. After the ball."
Flora was speechless and paralysed by the revelation. This entire time, she'd been thinking Helia had done all of this for Princess Krystal. But, this was all for her? For Flora? Igor had planned to propose? And, he'd asked Helia for help?
Her head started to spin, and her knees gave out. Flora wasn't aware that she'd collapsed until she heard the sounds of glass shattering for the second time that night and she felt strong arms wrap around her, catching her before she met the same fate as the bottle of wine that had slipped from her fingers.
Helia lowered her onto the chaise and knelt in front, frantically brushing the hair from her face as she shut her eyes to stop her vision from blurring.
"Are you alright?" Helia's panicked voice broke through the haze in her mind. "Flora! Are you okay? Answer me!"
"You're freezing." He figured out on his own when she couldn't muster up the energy to answer him. Flora had a vague idea of what was happening to her, but she couldn't bring herself to speak.
She was freezing, although she had stopped shivering, which she was afraid wasn't a good sign. It was getting harder to breathe, and when she finally managed to open her eyes, she was met with the sight of an utterly terrified Helia watching her with fear written all over his face.
He reached out to cup her face, tracing her mouth with his thumb. "Your lips are blue."
Flora's eyes drooped close once more and she heard him curse out as darkness consumed her mind. "Damn it!"
"Stay awake for me!"
"Don't close your eyes!"
"Flora!"
"Flora!"
"Flora!"