made this some kind of royal-au because why not?
Den: Magnus - Nor: Sindre
“I told you I don’t like white roses,” Sindre sighed as he walked down the rows and rows of rosebushes, the pale white flowers standing out like snowflakes against the green leaves.
“Sadly they turned to be white, there’s not much to do about it,” Magnus sighed, offering his arm for the prince to take as they continued their walk down the royal gardens.
Magnus had made a mental note to put on his cleanest clothes that morning, to aviod the prince from poking fun at him for it. All in good humour, but Magnus wanted to make a good impression whenever he could.
“What are you going to do about it?” Sindre inquired, hesitating before taking hold of Magnus’ larger arm. Looking up at the taller man, he squinted his eyes and offered a small, playful smile, as if he was challenging his gardener.
“Let them be? What’s wrong with white roses?” Magnus wouldn’t take the bait just yet, wanting to know the reason the quiet and mysterious prince had for his dislike of a flower, graceful and pure as himself.
“They look like ghosts. They’re pale, glow in the moonlight, like they are spirits haunting the gardens. I don’t like them, they are unnerving,” the prince looked down, fringe falling before his eyes to hide his flushed cheeks.
Magnus shook his head and laughed, not the loud and boistorus laugh he had when he drank with his friends, but a gentle and heartfelt laugh he reserved for the prince and the prince alone.
“In that case, I will paint them all red in your honour.”
“No,” the prince stopped in his tracks, turning the taller man around to face him.
“Stain them pink with love.”
“How do your majesty suggest I do that?”
The prince closed his eyes and leaned up to press a soft kiss to the gardeners lips. Magnus was taken aback, hesitating before returning the sweet kiss.
“You will find your way,” Sindre smiled at him, a rare smile where his lips parted just enough to reveal a row of pearly white teeth, before he turned around and walked off, waving a good bye to the gardener.
With his heart beating hard in his chest, Magnus gulped and blushed red as strawberries when he realized what the prince had said.
Poetic, mysterious, but oh so pure, a declaration of love from Sindre was something he had longed for. The roses were his heart, pale and void of love, but with Magnus help it’d beat and glow in a warm colour, making the garden of his soul feel warmer and more full of life.
Magnus smiled, looking up at the sky and thanking the goddess for this blessing, determined to strain the roses pink, and win the prince of his heart.