Flower

	For some people, a flower may seem like a treat, a decoration, or part of a greater ensemble that can make the difference between getting the girl and getting a slap to the face. For some, the mere presence of a flower can make all the difference between the perfect centerpiece and a disaster waiting to happen. For some, the pretty petals of a flower may mean the starkest difference between life and death.
	For now, though, this small, almost comically frilly flower held the life of the Sovereign Prince in the balance. His name: Prince Wahlverti Jolusicosoa Martelli IV. However, he was simply known as "Wahlvert" at the moment. No more, no less. No need for people to find out, freak out, and start grovelling at his feet for any stupid reason like- er... rambling. This thoughts were rambling again. He needed to get out of that palatial prison he called his home more often.
	"That will be thirty stone, please." With a sigh, the robed prince took out the exact amount of those shining rocks that he and the rest of the people used for currency nowadays. After a brief session of counting them out, he drops the into the shop keep's hand, and quickly snatches up his newly-purchased jar with him towards the entrance of that small hovel of a shop.
	"Alright, then..." He starts to mutter to himself while making his way towards the nearest alleyway making sure that everything was as clear as he could find. Finding that small jam jar he picked out was adequate, he unscrews the cap and stuffs a single small flower into it. That dainty piece of foliage looked certainly nice with its quarter-moon shaped petals and its long stamen. The stem, albeit, was a bit crumpled from being in his pocket, but he wasn't going to tell anyone something like that.
	"Theeeeeeere we go... safe as can be. Now, I just... just need to get back into the Palace before anyone realizes that I was gone. Mother should be getting up within the next few hours anyway..."
	And like that, he stuffs that jar back into his pocket and pulls his dark blue cloak over himself once more. Ugh, it was getting colder and colder lately... Not much would be growing until the Spring thaw, and even then, it wouldn't be much without help. Nevertheless, he needed to get this piece of flora back to the palace. Without a word and as long a gait as he can muster, he struts his way towards the gate encircling the castle. They weren't exactly what one would call "tall" but they were high enough that they could keep people out if they needed to. You know, unless they can jump. Thankfully, such a feat was simple enough for him, and with a hop, skip, and a jump, he slips past the rows of iron that blocked his descent. with that done, he scales the lattice that creeped its way up towards his mother's room, and with a deft flick of his finger, the outside latch came undone.
	"Mother...? Mother, I got you something from outside."
	He walks towards the form of his sleeping mother, and speaks again through that deafening silence. "Mother, it's Wally. It's time to get up." He'd played in here countless times when he was but ankle high, and had grown fond of that enclosed space. If anything, it was like his "room away from room" in a sense. "Mother, it's time to wake up. It's time to take your poultice." She had been taking concoctions like this since  she met that doctor a few years ago. Each one of those mixtures felt akin to a thick paste, and every single one of them had the flavor of something rotten mixed with a sprig of mint and rosemary. That is, that's what the doctor had said, anyway. 'Three times a day, with meals and water. No missing.' he had said at the time.
	Another shake rocks her sleeping form, urging her to wake up from her reverie. And another. And another still. Each shake elicits a shaky half-sentence from the Prince's throat, as if with each failed attempt bringing forth more of his sealed up emotions. After the tenth failed attempt, along with a wipe of his tear-stained face against the fringe of his cloak, he grips the jar he held the entire time in his palm, feeling the cool glass lettering on the side etch itself into his flesh.
	The next thing he knew, that glass was against the far wall, shattered, and the flower inside nearly forgotten. Quiet, heaving sobs leave his mouth before he drops to his knees. He was so close. So absolutely, undeniably, tantalizingly close. He was going to slip it into her medicine, and that little green piece of foliage would work its magic.
	All those nights of research and scouting were wasted, torn asunder by chance and happenstance. The only thing that he could even muster at this point was just a whimper or a sob, and a face full of tears.