Chapter 400 - 368: Mysterious Seed For Princess...

(A/N):

Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.

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A few weeks had passed since Devara’s return, and the royal palace had gradually settled into its familiar rhythm, although the king himself seemed to have discovered a new occupation that demanded far more of his time than any royal duty.

Rather than spending every waking hour in the throne room listening to ministers discuss matters of administration,

Devara had begun devoting a considerable portion of his day to his family, particularly his children, who appeared determined to make up for the years they had spent without him.

The royal garden had consequently become one of his favourite places in the palace, for it offered him something no throne or battlefield ever could: the opportunity to laugh freely with his children and watch their imaginations run wild.

On that particular afternoon, Devara was seated beneath the shade of an ancient tree while several of his children played around him.

Some were busy chasing butterflies across the flowerbeds, others were engaged in an argument over whose turn it was to ride upon one of the divine sabertooths, and a few of the older boys had persuaded their father to teach them a game involving small wooden balls.

Devara had quickly discovered that teaching children was an entirely different challenge from training warriors.

Warriors generally listened when he gave instructions, whereas his children seemed to regard every instruction as an invitation to invent three new rules of their own.

He was thoroughly enjoying himself when his little daughter approached him, carefully holding something in both hands.

"Father, look at what I made!"

Devara turned towards her, immediately setting aside the wooden ball he had been holding.

His daughter stood before him with a proud smile, her little fingers carefully supporting a handmade flower fashioned from pieces of cloth stitched together.

The petals were uneven in places, and the thread holding them together was visible if one looked closely, but there was an unmistakable charm in the little creation.

It was clear that considerable effort had gone into making it, particularly for someone so young.

Devara accepted the flower with the same seriousness he might have shown when receiving a precious gift from a visiting king, examining it from every angle before looking back at his daughter.

"This is beautiful!"

he declared, his smile widening.

"Tell me, little princess, where did you learn to make something like this?"

"Mother taught me!"

she replied proudly, straightening her back.

"She showed me how to put the cloth together and stitch the petals so they wouldn’t fall apart. Mine came out a little differently from hers, but Mother said I would get better if I kept practising."

She paused, then added with a hopeful expression,

"Do you like it, Father?"

Devara looked at the flower once more before gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her forehead.

"Like it? I love it. Your mother has taught you a wonderful skill, and you have used it to make something with your own hands. That makes it special, doesn’t it? I shall have to find a suitable place to keep it so that I can look at it whenever I wish."

His daughter’s face lit up with delight at his words.

For a moment, she simply watched him holding her creation, seemingly satisfied that the gift had reached its intended destination.

Then Devara’s gaze shifted towards the garden beyond them, and a thoughtful expression crossed his face as an idea occurred to him.

"However," he continued, reaching into a small pouch he carried,

"I believe I have something for you as well."

He opened his palm, revealing several small seeds resting against his skin.

His daughter stared at them.

Then she looked at the seeds again, apparently trying to determine how they could possibly be a suitable gift in exchange for the flower she had made.

"Father, what are these? Are they something to eat?"

Devara chuckled at her question.

"No, little one. These are seeds, and if you plant them in the right place and take good care of them, they will grow into a tree. And when that tree matures, it will produce flowers far more beautiful than anything you have ever seen."

Her eyes widened slightly, but she still looked unconvinced.

"More beautiful than the flowers in Mother’s garden?"

"Much more beautiful,"

Devara assured her, his voice taking on the playful tone he often used whenever he was about to reveal something extraordinary.

"In fact, there is something rather special about these flowers. Their beauty is so captivating that anyone who lays eyes upon them may become so absorbed in their appearance that they lose all track of time."

"A person might sit beneath the tree intending to admire its blossoms for a few moments, only to discover that hours have passed without them realising it."

His daughter stared at him with growing astonishment.

"Really, Father?"

"Really,"

Devara replied, suppressing another chuckle as he closed her little fingers around the seeds.

"But remember, a tree does not grow in a single day. You must plant the seeds, water them, protect the little shoots when they emerge, and be patient."

"If you care for them properly, one day you will have a tree of your very own, covered in flowers that will make everyone who sees them stop and stare."

For several seconds, the little girl remained perfectly still, processing this astonishing revelation.

Then her face transformed with excitement, and she clutched the seeds as though her father had entrusted her with the most precious treasure in the entire kingdom.

"Then I must plant them immediately!"

she announced, spinning around to look for her brothers.

"Brothers! Come quickly! Father has given me seeds for a magical flower tree, and he said the flowers are so beautiful that people will forget about time when they look at them!"

Her brothers, who had been playing a short distance away, immediately abandoned whatever they had been doing and hurried towards her.

The prospect of growing a tree with such extraordinary flowers was apparently far more interesting than their previous game, and within moments, the children were gathered around their sister, examining the seeds in her palm and firing questions at her faster than she could answer them.

"Where are we going to plant them?"

"Near the pond! There is plenty of space there!"

"No, we should plant them somewhere Father can see them every day!"

"What if the tree grows too big for the garden?"

"Then we will make the garden bigger!"

Devara watched the discussion unfold with unconcealed amusement.

His daughter had already taken charge of the expedition, assigning one brother the task of finding a suitable patch of soil, another the responsibility of bringing water, and a third the important duty of making certain that nobody accidentally stepped on the seeds.

Within moments, the little group was rushing towards the far end of the garden, their voices echoing between the trees as they debated the best place to plant their precious gift.

"Remember to choose a place where the tree will have enough room to grow!"

Devara called after them.

"We will, Father!"

his daughter shouted back without slowing down.

"And when the flowers grow, you must come and see them first!"

"I shall be waiting," he promised.

The children disappeared around a hedge, still arguing enthusiastically about the future tree, leaving Devara beneath the shade of the ancient tree with the little cloth flower resting in his hand.

He turned it gently between his fingers, admiring the uneven petals and the careful stitches his daughter had made with such determination.

A quiet smile settled upon his face as he imagined the excitement with which she would watch the first green shoots emerge from the earth, the pride she would feel when the tree began to grow, and the delight she would experience when its first blossoms finally appeared.

Of course, he had neglected to mention one small detail about the seeds.

The tree they would eventually grow was no ordinary flowering tree.

Its blossoms possessed a beauty and a fragrance that could ensnare the attention of anyone who beheld them, drawing the mind into a state of profound fascination where the passage of time seemed to lose its meaning.

Even among the wonders of the divine realms, such a tree was considered extraordinary.

Devara leaned back against the trunk and laughed softly to himself as the distant voices of his children rose into another excited argument.

Perhaps, he thought, he should have warned them not to plant the entire handful in one place.

Then again, watching his children discover the wonders of the world for themselves was one of the greatest joys he had found since returning home.

If they managed to grow a small grove of those flowers instead of a single tree, he suspected the royal garden would become considerably more interesting in the years to come.

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(Author note:)

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