The Butterfly Effect

No one would notice if he left, right?

The way the leaves rustled in the wind was like they were beckoning him closer, a friendly invitation that he couldn’t just ignore. He wasn’t the only one to be wandering around, seeing glimpses of deer or squirrels through the trees before they darted away; though he never saw them, the birds sang their morning song, and occasionally he heard their little wings flapping overhead.

A particular kind of birdsong caught his attention, something that felt more like words than just a pretty tune. It stood out to him, more so than anything else, and he followed it.

“It’s just that little boy again,” he imagined the trees grumbling. “What do you think he’s chasing now?” If they really could’ve talked, he wondered what stories they could tell, seeming to have lived before the Saint-King. Maybe they knew what his guardians were like when they were his age.

When the singing stopped for a moment, he wondered if he’d scared off the bird. Finally slowing down in order to give his surroundings a look, he looked down to see a little bird bravely walking up to his feet, flapping its wings to greet him.

He bent down and reached his hand out to it, knowing that it was what he heard earlier. It didn’t feel like a normal bird; normal birds felt like any other animal or person did, but this one didn’t. It felt like Lekra, the kind of comfort he experienced in his sleep. He smiled, and it chirped as if it shared his happiness; a part of him knew, even at his young age, that this bird was going to be precious to him. That very same bird would become his closest friend in only a few months, and stay like that until he no longer felt this kind of love from anyone.

Gently, he held his hands out and waited for it to hop on them. Something told him that it was alone and he wanted to change that. His guardians might say no, but maybe they’d let him keep it if he promised to be careful.

Following the path he took to get there, he came back to the castle where he’d started. The bird chirped once they got inside.

“They’re probably done with their meeting by now,” he assured the bird, assuming that’s what it was trying to tell him.

It didn’t seem too convinced.

“Even if they’re busy, they’ll listen,” he then tried. His confidence quickly waned before he added, “They listened before…”

That did something, at least, and the bird chirped and fluttered up to his shoulder.

He walked right past the throne room, stopped at the dining room but heard nothing but servants, then finally went to the garden.

All he needed to do was open the door in order to know they were there. He heard several adult voices, only a little louder than the hum of the nearby fountain. It was sobering to step into the little area, surrounded by the flowers that must have heard all sorts of rumors when they were in bloom; to him, it seemed like just about every kind of flower in the world was here. He had many pleasant memories of the five of them—though originally only three—eating lunch together in the spring, as long as the kings weren’t needed elsewhere, and it seemed to be the favorite spot of adult conversation.

At first, he chose to ignore that they were talking at all. “Imre! Dimas! Look what I found!” Kiah, Samone, and a few others (whose names he either didn’t know or couldn’t remember) were there, but they weren’t as important right now. Only his two guardians—his fathers—mattered.

Both of them stopped to look at him, but they shared the same expression. They didn’t want to talk. Were they really just trying to ignore him? Or was there something else, since it seemed like they hadn’t talked with Tavin lately either?

“Natheniel, you know we’re busy,” Imre sighed; he spoke gently, of course, but it was that kind of tone that showed that his patience was already near its end. “I’m sure we can see it later…”

The bird hopped on his hand and, with a defiant hmph, he thrust it forward. It didn’t seem to mind the rough gesture, giving the surrounding group a friendly chirp. “I found them in the forest all by themself. I could tell they didn’t want to be alone, so I took them with me… do they have to go back to the forest?”

His words meant a lot more to them than he could ever imagine.

Finally, Samone held out her own hand and asked, “May I see them?” He didn’t need to give his own approval, since the bird willingly jumped on her hand as if it understood her words. She gently pulled it closer, and finally mumbled a little spell. “Deíxe mou ta alithiná sou chrómata.”

She was figuring out if this was something they could risk keeping around… though that part was lost on the boy at the time.

The bird glowed brightly as it let out another chirp as if to laugh at the funny feeling the magic gave it. He never knew what sparked the silence that followed.

“A Fos,” Dimas mumbled after observing the display. “They must be the counterpart.”

“We don’t have much of a choice, then, do we?” Imre muttered back.

Dimas, talking to Natheniel now, said, “But we’re still busy. Lydia should be around here somewhere, why don’t you try seeing what she’s doing?”

“Lydia’s boring!” Natheniel protested. The bird fluttered back over to him, once again resting on his shoulder. “Her stories are always predictable…”

“Ask her to tell you about the trip to Tópos tou Theoú,” Imre suggested, already trying to go back to what he was doing before. “That’ll keep you interested. We’ve still got a lot to do, but… when we’re done, we’ll find you three and we can go out to town.”

That triggered an ecstatic nod from the boy, too happy with that promise to care for what they said as he left.

“You know you shouldn’t promise anything.”

“I can hope, can’t I? It’s the least we can do for him…”

Natheniel never dwelled on the weight the comment held, barely thinking about it at all as he began his search for Lydia.

She wasn’t in any of the places he’d looked so far, at least, and she had to be somewhere in the castle. He was more or less left with two options: the stables or the library. Figuring she wouldn’t bring a toddler into a place full of big horses and soldiers, he started towards the library.

Lydia was the kind of person that had a very recognizable voice; whether someone was listening for it or not, they could always pinpoint her in a crowd, and not just because she tended to be loud. He could hear her reading a story out loud to the only person in the castle young enough to still enjoy them.

Natheniel strolled in like he always did, though he wasn’t the one to gain her attention. Instead, it was a combination of the bird chirping its greeting and her son—Tavin—getting distracted because of it.

“Everyone’s busy, huh?” Lydia asked, tilting her head and offering Natheniel a smile. “Did you make a forest friend earlier, and more importantly, are you supposed to have it? You know I don’t care but I bet Imre definitely does.”

“Dimas let me keep them! Something about a ‘counterpart,’” the boy replied, never mind the fact he didn’t know what counterpart meant. He proved his point by patting the bird on the head and adding with pride, “They’re my new pet now.”

The bird fluttered off from his shoulder and right in front of where Lydia was sitting cross-legged on the floor. She looked like she was about to reach for it, but Tavin moved a little closer to her as a silent warning of something.

“Oh, do you not like it..?” When she spoke, the bird went back to Natheniel’s shoulder. He hardly recognized that she was talking to him this time as she added, “Have you found a name for it yet?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t thought of one yet, but I’ll find one soon!”

“Come back when you’ve found the perfect name. We’d both love to hear it, wouldn’t we?” Lydia glanced at Tavin, who only mumbled something.

Natheniel nodded and wandered off. To the little bird on his shoulder, he said, “What kind of name would you like to have?”

The bird chirped confidently.

He imitated the sound. “I think you’re going to need something else.”

With a moment of thought, the bird fluttered from his shoulder to one of the shelves. It was full of fables.

“You want to be named like someone in here?” He looked over all the books on the shelf until he found one he knew he could read on his own. “Let’s see what we can find!” The bird chirped in shared excitement.

He went through (what felt like) dozens of books, repeating any name that he came across. He barely acknowledged when Lydia and Tavin left, too absorbed in trying to find the perfect name.

Then it happened. “Ihu?”

The bird perked up immediately, flapping their wings. He assumed it to mean they liked it, and just in time—Imre found him.

Natheniel quickly closed the book, put it back, then scooped up Ihu and bounded to Imre. “Are you done?”

“We’re all ready,” Imre responded with a small smile.

“Guess what, guess what!”

“Hm?”

“I found a name for them!”

“Why don’t you share it with all of us while we walk?”

“Okay!”

Dimas, Lydia, and Tavin were waiting for them, then together they headed out into the streets of Lelishara. Natheniel had always appreciated the time they spent together, especially as it seemed they only got busier; in fact, in only a couple of years, these trips trickled down to a halt. But they weren’t something to be easily forgotten. It was what he used to assure himself they still cared about him.

Even if, with time, that assurance lost its value as he was sure something else was going on.