Thorn (TH-or-en)
Not a flower of its own, rather, thorns exist to guard and aid flowers. Centuries ago thorned roses were hung in meeting rooms to represent secrecy. Now, thornless roses have been bred, as thorns are seen as a nuisance holding gardeners back from something truly beautiful.

Carnation thought the walk to Fyta would take a day -and indeed that assumption still stood- but it felt like a thousand moons with Thorn at her side.

Thorn had called Carnation by the name 'Princess Pyre of Fotia' when he dropped to his knee and kissed the back of her hand right outside the tavern. It had been...embarrassing. Carnation had blushed and bar patrons had raised eyebrows from through the window and...Carnation just really, really hoped no one else would be kissing her hand when she arrived in Fyta.
Maybe for a princess that was an unrealistic hope.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Thorn asked eventually, turning to look up at her.

Carnation opened her mouth to answer before taking a moment to ponder on the question.
"I don't. Since I'm...from Fotia...I think...you know best around here. I trust you to lead me."

Thorn gave a light and careful laugh and waved his hand.
"Ah, thank you, your majesty! I'd like to say I do know the capitol, but the slums, oh, don't judge the slums, we don't claim that trash-" he broke his sentence to laugh again, seemingly to lighten up his rude dismissal.

Trash..?

The woman tried to look unbothered, but it was hard after being called trash by this man who's silver lined pockets and carefully curled hair made him look like a stereotype of the rich. But unlike some people Carnation didn't generalize based on appearances.
The point being Thorn clearly hadn't worked or struggled a day in his life, Carnation on the other hand welded burning hot metal day and night, she also, as of recent events, lit faces on fire.

The dirt that spread under Carnation's shoes gradually grew more worn, with boot, wheel and hoof marks, and the tight knit trees dispersed. Carnation hoped they were coming closer to the capitol, and she hoped with all her heart that this judgemental, classist, rude man would go his own way once they arrived there.

Yet...Thorn spoke like a mind reader bent on crushing her hopes.
"Once we get there, your majesty, don't you worry I won't leave you! Except of course, like, sleeping, I assure you, I will not sleep with you!"
Thorn claimed, his tone rising and falling every word as if advertising his statement to an engaged audience.

Carnation wasn't engaged, and she was stunned he'd even bring up any sort of un-business-like closeness...but she smiled as she always did.
She lied,
"It's lovely to have someone to show me around!"

Thorn's chest swelled up with pride and he breathed some 'uh huh'.

Finally, what Carnation didn't like about Thorn -aside from badmouthing Aspen- became apparent.
He seemed to be speaking at her, not to her, and certainly not with her.
As Carnation was caught up in her own bubble of careful sentences and worry, Thorn's head was also in the clouds, he seemed so ready to serve this false princess, yet...he ignored her all the same.

The conversation stopped, but the unlikely duo continued to walk in silence.
Occasionally, Thorn would pull a watch from his pocket and glance at it, then stuff it back down and stride slightly quicker.
Carnation matched his pace, knowing his all-about-me tendencies would prevent him checking if she was even there.

Along the side of the dirt road, as less and less trees sprung up, buildings began to appear -they were no more beautiful than the run down tavern- but Carnation enjoyed their company.

In one particular yard, two children played, and Carnation smiled and waved at them, they did the same gesture in response, though the older looking one glanced at Thorn and imitated a comically uptight pose.
He didn't seem to notice, but it was hard to tell with the way his face was always upturned.
Carnation rolled her eyes towards him but maintained her friendly smile.

"Your majesty." Thorn cleared his throat, stopping and turning slightly to extend a white gloved hand towards his companion.
"These...children have a seamstress for a mother, and I must say, again, that your outfit won't...do."

Fair...Carnation's entire sleeve had been burned off, and even if it hadn't, this attire wasn't befitting of a...well, a...Princess.
Carnation took Thorn's hand to be polite, and he led her towards the children who ridiculed him and to the door of their home.

He stepped closer when the children stared at him.
Carnation furrowed her brow.
Scared of...kids?
Even if they were bullies to some level, Carnation enjoyed the lighthearted charm kids carried themselves with, she wondered if her younger self, the one that made wreaths for neighbours and drew hearts in novel margins had ever charmed someone in that inspiring way.

No one answered the door, which reminded Carnation that in her case, anyone she charmed would've been but a stranger. Her mother and father were both enigmas, connected to no one, connected to nowhere, and weighed down by no mixed child.

"Your majesty, you seem...in your head. Is everything alright?" Thorn asked.

Carnation slowly looked to the frail man and attempted to smile.
"Everything's lovely!"