The Moon Drop Flower

A princess. A knight. A forbidden love that will change a kingdom forever.

Part One: The Oath

The morning mist rolled across the Faron Valley like a living thing, weaving through ancient trees and dancing over the crystal-clear river that cut through the wilderness. Amias woke to birdsong and the gentle rush of water—sounds so foreign to his ears that for a moment, he forgot where he was.

Then he remembered. The journey. The princess. The mission that could change everything.

He turned his head carefully, and his breath caught in his throat.

Princess Astaria lay sleeping beside him in the canvas tent, her dark hair spilling across a makeshift pillow of hay and wool. Even in sleep, she maintained an otherworldly grace, her delicate features peaceful in the dim morning light filtering through the tent fabric. Her hands were tucked beneath her chin like a child’s, her body curled against the morning chill.

Amias had served the royal family his entire life. Born into the Lightwood line—a family that had protected the throne for seven generations—he had never known any other purpose. From the age of five, he’d been trained in swordcraft, strategy, and the sacred oath: Protect the crown, even unto death.

But nothing in his training had prepared him for this.

He had guarded Astaria for years within the castle walls, always maintaining proper distance, always addressing her by title alone. He had watched her grow from a curious, rebellious girl into a woman of remarkable intelligence and compassion. He had seen her sneak into the library at midnight, return from the gardens with mud on her gowns, and challenge her tutors with questions that made even the wisest scholars pause.

And he had fallen hopelessly, impossibly in love with her.

A love he could never speak. A love that violated every code he’d sworn to uphold.

Yet here he was, two days into a journey that would take them to the furthest reaches of the kingdom. Just the two of them. Alone in the wilderness.

When Astaria had specifically requested him as her escort—choosing him over dozens of more decorated knights—the castle had buzzed with speculation. Amias himself had been stunned. He was the quietest of all the royal guards, the one who faded into the background, who never sought glory or recognition.

“Why me?” he had asked her, the only time he’d dared question her decision.

She had smiled mysteriously. “Because I trust you, Knight Amias. More than you know.”

Now, as the morning light grew stronger, Amias slipped from the tent before his thoughts could betray him further. The valley was breathtaking—untamed and wild in a way the manicured castle grounds could never be. Mountains disappeared into low-hanging clouds, their peaks crowned with snow even in late spring. The river sang its endless song, flowing over stones worn smooth by centuries of patient water.

This was freedom, Amias realized. True freedom, far from the politics and protocols of court life.

He removed his boots and stepped into the river, gasping as the icy water shocked his skin. The current tugged gently at his legs, and he closed his eyes, feeling more alive than he had in years.

“I’ve never actually been in a river before.”

Amias’s eyes flew open. Astaria stood at the water’s edge, a wool blanket wrapped around her shoulders against the morning chill. Her green eyes sparkled with wonder as she gazed at the flowing water.

His heart hammered against his ribs. Here, away from the castle, she looked different somehow. Younger. More vibrant. The weight she always carried seemed lighter.

“Nor have I, Princess,” he admitted.

A smile bloomed across her face. “Then we’re experiencing it together.” She let the blanket slip from her shoulders and stepped barefoot into the river, laughing as the cold water swirled around her ankles.

Amias watched her with a mixture of joy and terror. Joy at seeing her so carefree. Terror at his responsibility to keep her safe in this unpredictable wilderness.

Astaria waded deeper, bending to examine the colorful stones beneath the surface, and Amias’s terror proved justified. Her foot slipped on a moss-covered rock, and she fell backward with a surprised cry.

Instinct took over. Amias caught her before she went under, his arms wrapping securely around her waist, pulling her against his chest. “Are you all right?”

But Astaria only laughed—a bright, musical sound that seemed to make the very air shimmer. She looked up at him, her hands braced against his chest, her cheeks flushed pink. “It seems I got a little overzealous.”

Then reality crashed back. His duty. His oath. The impossible chasm between their stations.

He helped her to shore, professionally, carefully, trying to ignore the way his body protested the loss of her warmth.

“You’re soaked through,” he said, forcing his voice to remain steady. “You’ll catch your death of cold.”

Astaria started to protest, but Amias was already moving, his training overriding everything else. “I took an oath to keep you safe, Princess. That includes protecting you from something as mundane as illness.”

He retrieved his rucksack and, after a moment’s hesitation, pulled out his spare uniform. “Please. Change into these. Your gown will never dry in this mist.”

When Astaria emerged from the tent wearing his clothes—black trousers and a loose black shirt that hung on her slender frame—Amias had to look away. She looked nothing like a princess anymore. She looked like a girl on an adventure, free and wild and utterly breathtaking.

And she fit so perfectly into his world, wearing his clothes, carrying his scent.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and when their eyes met, he saw something there that made his breath catch. Something that looked dangerously like longing.

They broke camp in silence, each hyperaware of the other. Amias wore his casual traveling clothes—a white linen shirt unlaced at the collar, dark trousers, his sword strapped to his back. Without his formal armor, he felt exposed, vulnerable.

Astaria noticed the scar for the first time—a pale line that traced from his collarbone up along his cheek, barely visible in certain light. A wound he’d received two years ago, throwing himself between her and an assassin’s blade.

She wanted to touch it, to thank him for all the times he’d protected her without seeking recognition or reward. But something in his carefully neutral expression stopped her.

Not yet, she thought. But soon.

Part Two: The Meadow of Dreams

The ancient books Astaria carried were heavy, their leather covers cracked with age, their pages yellowed and delicate. They had been passed down through generations of royal women, each princess recording her own journey to find the Moon Drop Flower—the sacred bloom required to complete the ascension ritual.

Without the flower, Astaria could not become Queen. And with her father’s health failing, time was running short.

But the books were vague, written in riddles and metaphors. “Follow the Faron to where earth meets sky,” one passage read. “Beyond the veil of tears, beneath the willow’s wisdom, the moon’s gift waits.”

Astaria had studied the texts for months, piecing together a route through the wilderness. Tomorrow, they would reach the legendary waterfall at the kingdom’s edge. There, according to her grandmother’s notes, the Moon Drop Flower bloomed in the spray and shadows.

But today, the journey led them upward, climbing out of the lush valley onto higher ground.

The ascent was steep, the path barely visible beneath wild growth. Amias insisted on going first, testing each step, his hand never far from his sword. The wilderness was beautiful, but it was also dangerous—home to creatures both magical and mundane, some friendly, others decidedly not.

As they climbed, Astaria found herself studying Amias’s back, watching the way his muscles moved beneath his shirt, the confident grace of his movements. She had known him for so many years, yet she was still discovering new things. The way his jaw tightened when he was worried. The small smile that played at his lips when he thought she wasn’t looking. The gentleness in his calloused hands.

“Princess,” Amias called from above, his voice strange. “You need to see this.”

Astaria scrambled up the last few feet and stopped, her breath leaving her in a rush.

They had emerged onto a plateau that existed on no map, and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

A meadow stretched before them, vast and seemingly endless, blanketed in wildflowers of every conceivable color. Purple lupines stood tall beside delicate white daisies. Crimson poppies swayed next to golden buttercups and blue forget-me-nots. The morning mist gave everything a dreamlike quality, as if they had stepped through a veil into another world entirely.

“It’s impossible,” Astaria breathed. “This plateau isn’t on any of our maps. It’s as if it appeared just for us.”

Magic still lingered in the wild places of the kingdom, remnants of the ancient times before cities and castles. Perhaps this meadow was one of those places—a gift from the land itself.

Without thinking, Astaria reached out and took Amias’s hand.

She felt him tense, felt the war within him between duty and desire. But then his fingers curled around hers, warm and strong, and he didn’t let go.

“Come on,” she said, pulling him forward into the sea of flowers.

They waded through the blooms, which rose to their knees, releasing waves of perfume with every step. Bees hummed lazy songs. Butterflies danced on the breeze. The whole meadow seemed to pulse with life, ancient and pure.

Astaria felt something break open inside her chest—some cage she’d been locked in since birth. Here, in this impossible place, she wasn’t a princess. She was just a woman, experiencing wonder with a man whose presence made her feel more herself than she’d ever been.

She turned to look at Amias and found him watching her with an expression that stole her breath. His blue eyes burned with something raw and unguarded. For once, the careful knight’s mask had slipped, and she could see everything he felt reflected there.

“Amias,” she whispered.

But words felt inadequate. Instead, she pulled him down into the flowers.

They collapsed into the soft grass, laughing, surrounded by a cocoon of purple and white blooms that rose above their heads like natural walls. The sky stretched overhead, infinite and blue, and for the first time in her life, Astaria felt truly free.

Lying beside him, their faces inches apart, she traced her fingers along the delicate petals of nearby flowers. A ladybug crawled onto her hand, and she smiled, watching it explore her palm.

“Why can’t we just do this?” she asked quietly. “Just exist like this, without crowns and oaths and obligations?”

Amias was silent for a long moment. “We have duties, Princess. Responsibilities we cannot abandon.”

“But what do you want, Amias?” She turned to face him fully, her eyes searching his. “Not the knight, not the Lightwood heir. You. What do you want?”

No one had ever asked him that question. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. Then, like water from a breached dam, the truth poured out.

“I dream of the same thing,” she confessed when he finished. “A cottage somewhere wild and beautiful. A place where I can read without interruption, where I can walk through meadows just like this one, where I can live without constantly being watched and judged.” She paused, her cheeks flushing. “A place I could share with someone I love. Someone I choose.”

The words hung between them, heavy with implication.

In the castle, Astaria’s future was already decided. She would marry for political alliance, producing heirs and securing the kingdom’s stability. Love was a luxury princesses couldn’t afford.

But here, in this magical meadow, those rules seemed distant and meaningless.

Amias reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch feather-light. “If the world were different—”

“It could be,” Astaria interrupted, her hand covering his. “Once I become Queen, I’ll have power. Real power. I could change things.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. They both looked up to see dark clouds rolling across the sky, moving with supernatural speed.

“We should find shelter,” Amias said reluctantly.

But Astaria wasn’t ready to leave this perfect moment. “Not yet. Please. Just a little longer.”

As if the universe itself disagreed, rain began to fall—not gradually, but all at once, a sudden deluge that soaked them in seconds.

Astaria leaped to her feet, laughing despite the downpour. She grabbed Amias’s hand and pulled him up, and together they ran through the meadow, searching for cover. The rain released the flowers’ perfume in intoxicating waves, turning the air into something thick and sweet and magical.

Then Astaria saw them—a grove of willow trees at the far edge of the meadow, their long tendrils swaying in the storm wind.

They ducked beneath the nearest willow’s canopy, breathing hard, completely drenched. The ancient tree’s drooping branches created a natural shelter, filtering the rain into a gentle patter. Inside their willow sanctuary, the world felt muted and private, separate from everything beyond.

Astaria leaned against the trunk, gazing up through the branches. Rain traced down the long, narrow leaves in rivulets, creating a curtain of water around them. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

Amias watched her instead of the rain. “Yes,” he agreed quietly. “Beautiful.”

Their eyes met, and the air between them seemed to crackle with electricity that had nothing to do with the storm.

Part Three: Truths Revealed

They waited out the storm beneath the willow’s protection. Amias built a small fire using supplies from his pack and techniques learned during his training. As the flames grew, casting dancing shadows on the curtain of willow branches, he pulled out a worn book of poetry—his constant companion during long night watches.

“May I?” he asked, holding up the book.

Astaria nodded, settling beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched.

Amias began to read, his deep voice turning the ancient verses into something alive and immediate. He read of love and loss, of heroes and journeys, of magic and sacrifice. His voice blended with the rhythm of the rain, creating a symphony that seemed to encompass the entire world.

Astaria closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder, letting the words wash over her. She had never felt so content, so perfectly at peace. This moment—rain falling, fire crackling, Amias’s voice reading poetry in their willow sanctuary—was everything she’d ever wanted without knowing it.

When he finally closed the book, neither of them moved. The silence stretched, comfortable and charged all at once.

“Do you know why I requested you as my escort?” Astaria asked softly.

Amias had wondered since the moment she’d chosen him. “No, Princess. I confess it’s puzzled me greatly.”

She lifted her head to look at him, her green eyes reflecting the firelight. “Do you remember a stormy night, three years ago? I had fallen asleep in the library again.”

Recognition flickered across his face.

“My parents had threatened to ban me from the library if I disobeyed one more time,” Astaria continued. “The guards were ordered to report me immediately if they found me there after hours.” She paused, her hand finding his. “But you didn’t report me, did you?”

Amias remembered that night vividly. He had found her curled in a leather chair, a book of botanical illustrations open in her lap, her face peaceful in sleep. He should have woken her, should have escorted her to her chambers under the watchful eyes of the senior guards, should have reported the incident.

Instead, he had carefully lifted her into his arms—marveling at how light she was, how perfectly she fit against his chest—and carried her through the silent castle to her chambers. He’d risked severe punishment by entering the royal family’s private quarters, but he couldn’t bear to see her lose access to the library, couldn’t stand the thought of dimming the curious light in her eyes.

He had tucked her into bed, left water on her nightstand, and slipped the unfinished book into her hands so she could continue reading when she woke.

“I woke as you were leaving,” Astaria said quietly. “I saw you smile at me, saw the kindness in your eyes. You broke the rules to protect not my life, but my happiness. That’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?” Amias’s voice was barely a whisper.

“That you were different from every other knight, every other noble, every other person in the castle. You didn’t follow rules blindly. You did what was right, what was kind, even when it put you at risk.” She moved closer, her hand coming up to touch his cheek. “I’ve been watching you ever since. Watching your compassion, your integrity, your gentle strength. I requested you for this journey because I wanted time with you—real time, away from the roles we’re forced to play. I wanted to know you, truly know you, as you are.”

Amias couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Her touch burned against his skin, her words unraveling every defense he’d built.

“I need to know something,” Astaria continued, her voice trembling slightly. “Why did you agree to come? You could have refused, could have suggested a more experienced knight. Why did you say yes?”

This was the moment. The moment where Amias could retreat behind formality and duty, could protect his heart and maintain the proper distance between them.

Or he could tell the truth.

Astaria’s hand on his cheek gave him courage. Her eyes held nothing but open acceptance, invitation, hope.

Astaria’s eyes shimmered with tears. “You can have me,” she whispered. “You already do.”

Then she kissed him.

Her lips met his softly at first, tentative, questioning. When he responded—his hand tangling in her damp hair, pulling her closer—the kiss deepened, becoming something passionate and desperate and perfect. Years of longing, of carefully maintained distance, of unspoken words all poured into that kiss.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Astaria rested her forehead against his. “I love you too,” she said. “I think I’ve loved you since you carried me to bed that night, since you chose my happiness over your duty. I love you, Amias. Not the knight, not the Lightwood heir. You.”

They held each other as the storm raged outside their willow sanctuary, as the fire burned low, as the world continued on without them. For these stolen moments, nothing else existed except each other.

Eventually, they set up the tent beneath the willow’s protection, working in comfortable synchrony. The rain had softened to a gentle drizzle, the kind that would likely continue through the night.

As they settled into the tent, lying close together for warmth, Astaria spoke quietly. “Tomorrow, we reach the waterfall. Tomorrow, I find the Moon Drop Flower and our journey ends.”

Amias tightened his arm around her. “And then?”

“Then I return to the castle and complete the ascension ritual. I become Queen.” She turned in his arms to face him. “And a Queen needs a King.”

Hope flared in Amias’s chest, bright and terrifying. “I’m a knight, Astaria. Not a prince, not a noble lord. The council will never approve.”

“The Moon Drop Flower grants the new Queen one uncontestable decree,” Astaria said, her eyes gleaming with determination. “A command that cannot be refused or overruled, given when she accepts the crown. It’s tradition—a way to prove that the new ruler has the strength to make difficult decisions.”

“You would use it to—”

“To choose my own husband,” Astaria finished. “To choose you. If you’ll have me.”

Amias couldn’t speak. Couldn’t process that this impossible dream might actually come true. The girl he loved, offering him not just her heart but a future together.

“The council will fight it,” he finally managed. “There will be opposition, scandal—”

“I don’t care,” Astaria said fiercely. “I’ve spent my entire life being what everyone else needed me to be. This one thing, this one choice, will be mine. If I’m to be Queen, I’ll be Queen on my own terms, with the man I choose by my side.” She cupped his face in her hands. “Do you want this? Truly? Because becoming King means giving up your dream of a quiet life by the river.”

Amias considered this, then smiled. “We’ll have that life someday. After our duties are fulfilled, after we’ve served the kingdom well. We’ll find a place in the countryside and build our cabin by a river, beneath willow trees. We’ll read poetry and grow gardens and watch the seasons change. But until then, we’ll serve together. We’ll change things together. We’ll make the kingdom better, together.”

“Together,” Astaria echoed, kissing him again.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, the sound of rain their lullaby, their fingers intertwined, their hearts beating in tandem.

Part Four: The Moon Drop Flower

Morning brought clear skies and the musical roar of distant water. The waterfall—the end of their journey and the beginning of everything else.

They broke camp quietly, both aware that their time in this private paradise was ending. Reality waited beyond today, with all its complications and challenges. But they would face it together.

The terrain grew rockier as they approached the kingdom’s edge. The Faron River, which had been their companion since the journey’s start, grew wider and faster, rushing toward its dramatic conclusion.

Then they heard it—the thunderous crash of water falling from a great height.

They emerged from the forest into a natural amphitheater of stone. Before them, the waterfall cascaded from a cliff at least a hundred feet high, the water catching the morning sun and creating rainbows in the spray. It was magnificent, powerful, ancient.

And there, growing in the mist-dampened rocks behind the falling water, was the Moon Drop Flower.

Even from a distance, Astaria could see it—a delicate bloom that seemed to glow with inner light, its petals the pale silver of moonlight, its center dark as midnight. Only one flower, singular and perfect, exactly as the texts described.

“I have to get behind the waterfall,” Astaria said, studying the path.

It would be dangerous. The rocks were slippery with spray, the current strong enough to sweep a person away. But there was no other way.

“I’ll go with you,” Amias said immediately.

“No.” Astaria placed a hand on his chest. “This part of the journey, I have to complete alone. It’s tradition, part of the ritual. The princess must claim the flower by herself, or it won’t work.”

Every instinct in Amias screamed to protect her, to keep her from danger. But he saw the determination in her eyes and knew he had to trust her.

“Be careful,” he said, pulling her close for one more kiss. “Come back to me.”

“Always,” she promised.

Astaria approached the waterfall carefully, testing each step. The spray soaked her immediately, and the rocks were treacherously slick. Behind her, she could feel Amias watching, every muscle in his body tensed with the effort of not interfering.

She found a narrow ledge behind the falls and edged along it, pressing her back against the wet stone. The water thundered inches from her face, its power immense and terrifying. One wrong step, and she would be swept away.

But Astaria had not come this far to fail.

The Moon Drop Flower grew from a crack in the rock, impossible and perfect. Up close, it was even more beautiful—its petals seemed to hold captured starlight, and a faint, sweet scent cut through the mineral smell of the waterfall.

She reached out carefully and plucked the flower, feeling a pulse of energy travel up her arm as she did. The flower was warm in her hand, humming with ancient magic.

The return journey was even more treacherous. Her hand holding the flower couldn’t grip the rock face for balance. Twice, she nearly slipped. But finally, she reached solid ground, and Amias was there, catching her, holding her tight.

“You did it,” he murmured into her hair.

Astaria pulled back to look at the flower in her hand. It was already beginning to wilt, as the texts said it would. She had three days to return to the castle and complete the ritual, or the flower would die and she would have to wait another year before one bloomed again.

“We should start back immediately,” she said. “We’ll need to move quickly.”

The journey back to the castle took two long days of hard traveling. They spoke little, conserving their energy, but every glance, every accidental touch, carried the weight of what awaited them.

On the final night before reaching the castle, they made camp in the same meadow where they had first confessed their feelings. The wildflowers were just as beautiful, just as magical, and they lay together beneath the stars, memorizing each other’s faces.

“Are you certain?” Amias asked. “Once you use your decree to name me as your chosen husband, there’s no going back. The council will be furious. There may be attempts to undermine your rule, to challenge your authority.”

“Let them try,” Astaria said fiercely. “I am my father’s daughter, trained since birth to lead. I know every law, every precedent, every political maneuver. I’ll be a good Queen, Amias. And you’ll be a good King. Together, we’ll be unstoppable.”

He kissed her beneath the stars, tasting her certainty, her strength, her love.

“Together,” he agreed.

Epilogue: The Coronation

The throne room was packed with nobles, dignitaries, and common folk alike. Everyone had come to witness the coronation of their new Queen.

Astaria stood before the ancient throne in ceremonial robes of silver and midnight blue, the colors of the Moon Drop Flower. The bloom itself rested in a crystal vessel beside the crown—still alive, still glowing softly, its magic sustained by the ritual.

Her father, the aging King, placed the crown upon her head. “Rise, Queen Astaria, sovereign of the realm.”

As Astaria stood, power seemed to flow through her. The crown felt both heavy and weightless, a burden and a birthright.

The King’s advisor stepped forward with the ceremonial scroll. “Your Majesty, as is tradition, you may now issue your one uncontestable decree. Speak your will, and it shall be law.”

The room fell silent. This was the moment everyone had been waiting for. Queens traditionally used this decree for major political moves—annexing territory, forming crucial alliances, or establishing new laws.

Astaria’s voice rang clear and strong through the hall. “I decree that I shall marry the man of my own choosing, regardless of his birth or station. And I choose Knight Amias Lightwood to be my King.”

Shocked whispers erupted throughout the room. The nobles looked scandalized. The council members turned red with barely contained fury.

But the decree had been spoken. It could not be undone.

Amias stepped forward from his position among the guards, his ceremonial armor gleaming. He moved through the parting crowd to kneel before Astaria’s throne.

“Rise,” she commanded, her eyes shining. “You kneel to no one anymore. You are my equal, my partner, my King.”

As Amias stood and took Astaria’s hand, the common folk in the gallery began to applaud. It started as a scattered clapping but grew into thunderous approval. A Queen who married for love, who elevated a knight of proven honor and courage—this was a story the people could believe in.

The council would fight, Astaria knew. There would be political battles ahead, resistance to their rule, attempts to divide them.

But as she looked into Amias’s eyes, as their hands clasped before the entire kingdom, she felt no fear. They had found each other in a magical meadow, confessed their love beneath willow trees, and claimed their future with courage.

As the crown was placed upon Amias’s head and they were proclaimed King and Queen, Astaria squeezed his hand.

He squeezed back, a silent promise: This is just the beginning.

And somewhere in the wilderness, in an impossible meadow that appeared only for those who needed it most, wildflowers bloomed eternal beneath the watching sky, waiting for the next love story to unfold.