Felicia and the Pot of Pinks

Felicia and the Pot of Pinks

Once, at the edge of a great forest, stood a small cottage. A brother and sister named Bruno and Felicia lived there with the man who had raised them as his own children.

He was not rich, but he could grow good bread grain in stony soil, repair a roof before rain, and find a kind word when someone was sad.

When the children grew older, he called them to him.

“I have no great treasure. There are two stools, a straw bed, a hen, some tools, a pot of pink carnations, and a silver ring.”

He turned to Felicia.

“The flowers and ring were left long ago by an unusual lady. She asked me to keep them especially for you.”

Bruno received the rest of the household.

After their guardian was gone, Felicia hoped she and Bruno would live peacefully. But Bruno quickly began calling everything his.

“My stool. My shelf. My firewood. My supper.”

“We live in the same house,” Felicia reminded him.

“You have your carnations and ring.”

Felicia disliked quarrels. She went to her small room, where the pink carnations stood on the windowsill.

One evening she noticed the soil was dry and went to a forest spring for water.

Moonlight silvered the path. As she filled her jug, she heard wheels and soft bells.

A wonderful carriage appeared among the trees. A tall woman in a dark green dress sat inside.

“Good evening. What are you doing here so late?”

“Getting water for my carnations.”

“Only for flowers? Have you eaten?”

Felicia lowered her eyes.

“Not yet.”

“Then first you need food.”

A small table appeared beside the spring, covered with warm bread, berries, nuts, cheese, and fragrant tea.

“I am the Queen of the Forest,” said the woman.

As they ate, she asked:

“Do you possess anything truly precious?”

“My carnations and a silver ring. And something else that does not fit in a pocket.”

“What?”

“The wish not to become cruel merely because someone has been cruel to me.”

The Forest Queen smiled.

“That is rare treasure.”

When supper ended, Felicia lifted her ordinary clay jug and gasped. It now shone like warm gold, and the water smelled of roses after rain.

“This water helps what is cared for with a good heart.”

“Then I will bring you my carnations as thanks!”

Felicia hurried home.

While she was away, Bruno entered her room. Annoyed that she valued the flowers so much, he hid the pot beneath his bed and put a cabbage on the windowsill.

Felicia returned and stared.

“A cabbage?”

She searched everywhere, then went sadly back to the spring.

“My flowers disappeared. I still have the ring. Please take it instead.”

“But then none of the old gifts will remain.”

“Your friendship will.”

The Forest Queen accepted the ring.

“Go home. In the morning, look carefully at what seems ordinary.”

Felicia returned and carried the cabbage outside.

“Careful, please!” said a voice.

Felicia froze.

“Who said that?”

“I did.”

“The cabbage?”

“Obviously. Not the oak tree.”

Felicia nearly dropped it.

“If you plant me back in the garden, I will tell you where your flowers are.”

She planted the cabbage and watered it.

“Now tell me.”

“Under Bruno’s bed.”

Nearby, the old hen clucked.

“And do not be angry with me.”

Felicia stared.

“This will be a very long morning.”

The hen explained that she had once been the woman who cared for Felicia as a baby. Felicia had been born in a distant royal palace.

An unfair old law had demanded a male heir. To protect her daughter, Felicia’s mother fled and asked her sister, the Forest Queen, for help.

Felicia was hidden safely at the cottage. The nurse had been changed into a hen to protect the secret, and several guards searching for the child had been transformed into cabbages.

“Not the most dignified shape,” sighed the hen, “but safer than prison.”

Felicia hugged the hen as carefully as one can hug a talking hen.

“I will find a way to restore you.”

“First find the carnations.”

Felicia entered Bruno’s room. Dozens of gray mice sat in front of the flowerpot.

“Please move.”

They did not.

Felicia remembered the magical water and sprinkled a few drops on the floor. The air filled with the scent of roses.

The mice lifted their noses, calmed down, and ran back to their holes.

Felicia took the pot.

The carnations had wilted.

“I am here. It will be all right.”

She watered them.

The stems rose. Buds opened. Pink light filled the room.

Petals whirled like a tiny storm.

The flowerpot disappeared.

In its place stood a young man dressed in green, wearing a wreath of pink carnations.

Felicia sat down in surprise.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Florian. I am the Forest Queen’s son. Long ago another enchantress turned me into a flower. The spell could be broken only by someone who cared for me without expecting a reward.”

The Forest Queen appeared in the doorway, Felicia’s silver ring shining on her hand.

“Your care broke the spell.”

“What about my nurse?” Felicia asked immediately.

The Queen smiled.

“I knew that would be your first question.”

Green light flashed. The hen became a kind-eyed woman again.

Then the Queen waved her hand over the garden. The cabbages became people who were extremely pleased to discover they no longer grew in rows.

Bruno returned and found a Forest Queen, Florian, several former cabbages, a former hen, and his sister holding a golden jug.

“I seem to have missed something important.”

“Only the truth,” said Felicia.

Bruno expected punishment.

But Felicia said:

“I do not want anything bad to happen to you. I want you to understand that a home does not become yours merely because you say ‘mine’ louder than everyone else.”

Bruno was silent.

“I was jealous. I had more things, but you loved your flowers more than I enjoyed everything I owned. I wanted to take even that from you. Forgive me.”

“I will forgive you if you truly change. Not by magic. By yourself.”

The Forest Queen nodded.

“Those are the strongest transformations.”

Later Felicia learned more about the kingdom where she had been born and helped change the unfair old law. She did not return merely to wear a crown. She first wanted to understand the people and make life fairer for every child.

Florian visited often. They planted carnations, argued about which flowers smelled best after rain, and became close friends.

Much later, when both were certain, they chose to stay together.

Bruno changed too, though not in a single day.

Felicia kept the silver ring after the Forest Queen returned it.

And on her windowsill always stood a pot of pink carnations.

Ordinary carnations.

At least that was what they claimed.

Sometimes, late at night, a quiet whisper came from among the leaves:

“Water, please.”

And Felicia, smiling, went to fetch the jug.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨