Giving thanks to the One for my existence, he plucked me from the broken stem and presented me to his Lady.

I died upon her bosom, forgotten in their passion.

She gathered my petals like flakes of precious stone, admired their rich colour, inhaled their sweet scent, hid them in the pocket of her velvet gown. “They will remind me of our special day together,” she said.

“We shall have many more such days, meleth nín,” he replied, kissing her cheek. “I promise.”

…

Tonight, my spirit will dance beside her bed.

Mine was a death a Prince might envy.