Chapter 18: Story Untold

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This is the story of Lepidottero, mentor, lover, and friend and nanny!of many.

Papillon chuckled lightly at Lepidottero's interrupting script, looking over at his sleeping partner before turning back to the leafs of paper Libellua had given him. The paper felt heavy in his hands, etched with Libellua's pristine handwriting and a few of Lepidottero's intervening corrections, the mourning cloak could tell because the quill was pressed much harder into the parchment and didn't have a delicate slant like Libellua's. Papillon knew Lepidottero couldn't read or write all too well when he first came.

Dictated by Lepidottero, scribed by Libellua, son of Lady Nefriet, Spring of Nord's Second Year of the Reign of Fire...

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I was born in a small village called Pauvre. Just outside the ring of mountains surrounding Nord, where most moths can be found. A little place, not much to it. Fifteen little thatch huts and a few lean-tos with stick and rope fences to keep sheep in their pens. We had sheep solely for wool, which usually we traded with gypsies that passed through onto bigger cities.

My village was a village of moths. Shunned and thrown away, it was a refuge for all of those cursed with dusty wings. We never got into the habit of changing back and forth like so many butterflies seem to enjoy. I think it was our shame that kept us human. I was orphaned at a young age. My mother had died while giving birth to my younger sister, Eule. My father was killed several months later, a hate crime when he dared to cross the mountains to trade with the people of Nord. From what the elders told me, he had been hung on a tree on the side of the road. The king and queen, the ones who reigned before Mariposa, punished the people who killed him and buried him in an anonymous gravesite.

I knew from the very beginning people wondered why I was so good with kids. Truth be told, they were all I had. I took care of Eule, with the aide of a widowed mother who had lost her child to a cold spell the winter prior. She was Eule's surrogate mother. Slowly, orphans gathered in her hut and it became an orphanage. Myself and the widow, who was known simply as Madre, took care of them.

I grew up, becoming a weaver of tales and a swordfighter. There was a retired swordsman, human, that stayed in the village after traveling with the gypsies. He taught me all he knew and more. He remained nameless, for reasons I know not, although I called him Teacher or Master when I needed to address him. But like Madre, he became a parental figure for me and the orphans, who saw me as an elder brother.

Then, they came.

Slave traders from far west invaded our town. Those who could fight did but were mercilessly slaughtered. The children I spent my life taking care of were loaded into carts and disappeared as fast as they could whip those horses. Eule was taken from me. When they finally fled, I was covered in their blood and was alone save for a few injured people, and a few dying.

Among the dying was my teacher, who proclaimed me like a son and gave me his hat in farewell. He died in my arms. Madre was one of the few to survive, but it cost her the ability to see in her left eye.

After trying to fix the village up as best as I could, I left in search of my sister and other missing children, much against the survivors' wishes. I spent days heading along the trail of their wagon wheels, until I became lost. I wandered aimlessly, eventually going right through a small mountain pass no one knew was there that led straight through the mountains safely.

I found myself in a fertile and fresh valley, the Nord valley, and realized why so many moths wished to join the butterflies. It was breathtaking. I headed down the slopes and ended up in what was known as the Southern Ruins, left over from the Reign of Earth. I stayed a week or so, eating my fill on ripe berries and fruit and drinking from a clear stream that trickled through the cobblestone floor.

One day, I happened upon a curious sight, a spider's web. It had always been said there were no spiders in Nord, thus appealing to our arachnophobic kind. I was never terribly afraid of them like my brethren. They were a common sight outside the mountain ring and one of my lessons with Master was to get over the faint fear of the eight-legged creatures.

As I approached its glistening strands, I noticed two small things fluttering madly and entangling themselves even more as a fat black spider made its was victoriously along its trapeze strands to collect its prize. I contemplated if I should save them, seeing as my father was killed by beings such as these. My sympathy won over my revenge, thankfully. After stabbing the brute with the feather of my new hat, I got the little things to calm down as best I could before carefully pulling away the webs from their beautiful wings.

I held the two butterflies in my hand one moment, then the next I was collapsed with two crying red-faced boys clinging to me in fright. Instincts kicked in and I smothered them with embraces and cooed them into calmness. The elder one then straightened away from me, obviously embarrassed of losing himself like that in front of a complete stranger. He bowed, his long hair slipping past his shoulders to drag on the ground and thanked me for saving him and his still sniffling brother from the spider.

I said it was nothing but they both insisted I be repaid. When they said they were princes, I couldn't help but laugh and pretend to go along with what I thought was a game that I often played with Eule. She'd pretend to be a fair and lovely princess kidnapped by evil spider-butterflies that whisked her away into a tall tower. I'd be her knight, storming the tower (which actually was a fairly tall tree) and rescuing her. Reminiscent of the past, I followed the two boys and awed at the sight of the city of Nord.

Without paying heed to the gawking people, they led me straight to the citadels, past the flabbergasted guards and stuttering nobles. They watched helplessly as the two princes of Nord led a dirty, bloodstained moth through the main halls and straight to the throne room where their parents sat in court with the nobles. Needless to say, I was convinced of their royalty and became very humble.

But being humble did not mean I lost my good humor, and the two instantly sympathized with me, after retelling my story. They were surprised when I told them I was the son of the hanged moth they buried and thanked them many times over for bothering to provide proper burial for him. The two princes were so eager to keep me around, that the royal couple gave me a room, nothing fancy but practical, and let me stay for a few days before I was to return to my village with fresh supplies then follow the trail of the slave traders.

However, at the end of the few days they fell in love with me, and how well I busied and amused their children, including the very young Mariposa. Surprised with my ability to handle children, despite my telling of taking care of orphans, they shocked everyone by declaring me their guardian. Truth be told, I was angry that I couldn't return to my village or take up my journey of rescue and revenge. The royal couple agreed to send a few wagonfulls of supplies to Pauvre, making sure to send moth-friendly deliverers.

With their wishes, I stayed and took care of the three boys, and made a life in Nord. I even fell in love with a certain mourning cloak that was caught in a tremulous affair with the head of parliament. I sheltered him as best as I could like I did the children, but it became so much more over time. Then, once again, my life was thrown into the rapids by an invasion.

This time by a more powerful and deadly enemy. The entire army of Fiume, on crusade, led by the gold-eyed and sword-wielding Queen Cygne.

I believe the rest of that particular story can be retold without having to read this. All one needs to know now is what happened after my banishment.

As soon as I was left on the outskirts of the mountains, fuming with anger and sadness, I decided to take up my old trail of revenge, traveling so far west by any means that I saw what else Queen Cygne managed to conquer before turning her golden gaze onto Nord. It took me almost a year and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to find a hint as to the orphans', and my sister's, whereabouts.

I found two orphans being worked on the fields of a plantation. They recognized me almost instantly and I helped them escape without detection. I found several others; I freed them if they were captured and aided them if they led their own lives. Finally, I found my dear sister. She had grown up and married her master's son, a prideful and rich young man who I knew she loved. She finally became the princess she wanted to be.

But her new found wealth had no room for me. Her husband was appalled at my ragged state at this point and tried to send me away before I could even speak to my sister. He probably thought me a prior lover, from the look on his face and his harsh words. I started laughing at one of his comments so loud that she was drawn out of her home. It took her a moment to recognize me, but when she did, she threw her arms around me and wailed about how she missed me.

After I bathed and was given new clothes, her husband, whose name was Duque, finally listened to me tell my tale after my sister was put on that slaver's cart. They both were disgusted at the thought that I had fallen in love with a person of the same sex, but they did not show it, yet.

One day, I was playing a game with a child I happened upon while walking on my sister's husband's property, when Duque came out, snatched the child and hit me hard. Apparently, he thought I was going to molest the young boy, his son. I could only stare as he carried my nephew back inside and slammed the door. The boy started crying and the couple got into a fight. It was resolved, and I had eavesdropped to hear the husband tell Eule to send me away. She tearfully agreed, even though she knew I meant no harm. I had brought her shame, and I knew it.

So, I left my new clothes in a neat pile on their doorstep with a note pinned to it and left on swift feet. I didn't say where I was going, all I said was that I was sorry for not being there for her and that I hoped she had a long and happy marriage. I never saw her again afterward.

Steering away from their town, I headed southeast, freeing or helping any orphans I happened to come upon, even burying a few or visitng their graves. I kept going until I collapsed in the Sabbiosoan desert. A passing caravan offered to let me ride with them into the main city, I thanked them for their kindness and went along. I bought clothes from them, with what little money I had, that rich-looking red tunic and trousers I always seem to wear that matched my hat, before heading into the city.

Now it is speculated all around Sabbioso how I happened to meet their crowned prince and gain the king's trust, but here is what happened. Similar to my meeting with the two Nord princes, I found him in trouble. He had managed to fall into a sandpit, leaving him in a gaping hole with crumbing sides, sandy and crying. No one heard him, save for me. I found a rope and had him tie it around his waist before heaving him out. He didn't thank me, he just shimied out of the rope and ran as fast as he could before I could ask him if he was alright.

I stayed at an inn for a few more nights before I headed out to leave with the caravan, who had graciously wanted me to join their ranks as a sword dancer and protector of the caravan when bandits arrose. I met the young boy yet again, enthralled with the gypsy's dance as the caravan celebrated the last night of their stay with dancing and singing.

The boy was so captivated he hardly noticed me slipping in and sitting beside him. He jumped in surprise when I asked if he'd like to dance and sing with them. Surprise left in place of sudden excitement as I lead him into the dancing circle. Through the night, he danced freely with the gypsies. Towards the end, he gathered enough courage to sing a Sabbiosoan love song, lulling people into complete awe of his surreal and phantasmal voice.

He fell asleep beside me and I heaved him onto my back to take him to the castle. The gypsies had been hesitant to let him join because he was, apparently, the crown prince, son of King Braise, a known hater of the arts since his wife died. I had been shocked and amused at the twist of fate. I took him back to the castle, though there were many bizarre obstacles. Thugs of every shape and size tried to bribe me to leave the boy with them, many more just used brute force. I knocked them all down easily, even with the sleeping child on my back.

Apparently, word on the streets came fast to King Braise's ear, probably because of his supposed connections. He and his guards were waiting for me at the gates and I was held at spearpoint as I carefully woke the child and set him down. Defiantly, he refused to budge from my side, demanding I become his new tutor and guardian.

I couldn't help but laugh. But when he looked up at me with those hurt eyes, those hurt gold eyes, I realized who his mother was. Quietly, I succumbed to his pleas and King Braise, after some debate, agreed. Thus I became the prince's guardian.

And now you know what parts of the story I haven't told. You know everything I could possibly have said, despite its shortness. I could dictate fond childhood memories, but that would make me somber and you'd despair at seeing a saddened Lepidottero. But do not cry for me, darlings, I will fight this punishment, I will not let Wesp win this battle. I won't die just yet. I still have yet to see a certain two see how much they are in love.

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Papillon's eyebrows furrowed for a moment, wondering who his love was referring to, briefly looking over at the sleeping moth before he leafed to the last paper. This time, it was in Lepidottero's own writing.

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My love, my dear, dear Papillon,

I set aside this simply for you. I asked Libellua not to read it, for it is personal. It is for your beautiful eyes only. Keep it safe, for I do not know when I will be able to say and do these things, these simple reminders that I love you with all my heart. I once thought we'd never be the same again. I was right. The fact that we have surpassed our obstacles and still love each other with such devotion despite our turbulent past has touched me deeper than any words or gestures a lover could show to his mate.

I had but one love before you, but I will hardly call that love in comparison to what we have. There is no word that can fully house all these emotions that course through my blood and soul, my mind and skin, this scarred and flawed body you seem to find indestructible, perfect. I am not perfect, Papillon. No one is. Except you. Even with your scars and bruises, you are still the most beautiful creature, human, moth or butterfly, that I have ever seen, and ever will see. I write this in total confidence. Meeting you has shaped my beliefs of beauty, and hardly a being, even of the divine, could come to par with you.

My life is yours. I do love the children that I have raised, and I do feel obligated to also offer my life for their happiness and well being. Yet I cannot. I am yours completely. I am theirs as an elder brother, a mentor, someone to come to for guidance. You are the only person I dare dream to come to, because you are the one I trust myself, all of myself, with.

Yon-yon, my dearest, I shall confide in you, for my trust is that strong. I do not think I shall come out of this in one piece. I'll be torn, possibly to the point where I can't even recognize your heavenly voice, or your smiling face. This is the true test of our love, will you, Papillon, have me though I am broken? Your tormentor will not win, but he will be able to wound us deeply. I have read and contemplated about my punishment. I have come to the conclusion I will die from pain or loose my mind. I am scared, Papillon. I know you don't want to hear this, but I need to say it once more. I am worried to the point where I cannot stomach my last meal.

If I have died, then I apologize for my weakness. I beg your forgiveness for leaving, for abandoning you at such a crucial and pressing time. But be comforted that when you stand alone, alone wherever you may be, be it in nature's embrace or the cold walls of these citadels or other buildings, that the sun's warmth shall be my kisses, and the soft breeze that would carress your even softer cheek shall be my doing. Take comfort in knowing I'll wait for you. If you find another, I'll kindly step aside so they can comfort you in ways I could never do anymore.

If I have not died, then I have gone into some sort of coma or idle state. If I havn't I will have torn apart this letter and said it all to you clearly with my voice so you could see, instead of imagine.

Know this, my wondrous butterfly, your presence will be felt in my time of need. Stay with me, I beg you. Your voice will draw my spirit back to its rooted body, your face will beckon my eyes to open, and your love will light up those opened eyes once more to the Lepidottero you knew before. I wish to pull you into my arms again, lift you to the heavens and spin and spin until we are so dizzy I can't properly plant a kiss on your petulant lips and end up kissing your delicate nose, warm cheeks, high forehead, and supple skin wherever else. Please, do not let your species' namesake be your attitude toward our predicament, I need as much confidence in myself as I need in you to guide me through my darkened state.

Consider this, Papillon, the old Lepidottero's last words. Like the fiery bird of myth, I will be reborn from these ashes I have become, but only with your helpful love and kind touch.

I cannot find a proper closing, for I can go on forever naming the reasons why I love you, counting the ways despite there isn't enough numbers to count them all.

I love you. And that is the simplest and most meaningful thing I could possibly say.

It's your turn to be the knight in shining armor. Save me, Papillon, I beg you.

Yours until the end of time and thereafter,

Tero

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Lucciola waited impatiently as a message was passed from the soldiers that guided him to the sentinel's at his brother's tent. It had been ten minutes and the sentinel had yet to allow it to be passed into the tent and ultimately to his brother because Araignee was in a strategy meeting. The redhead tapped his foot impatiently and stared down the guard, who looked about as responsive as a rock.

Fed up, he knocked away the lances blocking the entrance with his arm and threw open the makeshift cloth door. Three men looked up from a table with a map sprawled over it with little colored pins. There was a mass of golden pins outside what looked like the mountain range. Inside, there were a few scattered green ones, but nothing in comparison to Araignee's army.

The monarch himself straightened and looked like he was about to yell before his eyes fell on Lucciola. A curt smile spread over his thin lips. He was dressed in silver armor with a cape of aquamarine color, the colors of Fiume. His blonde hair was twisted into a braid and he wore an intricate silver, gold, and sapphire circlet on his head. The other two men were aged warriors, salt and pepper beards bristling under their helms. One of them had a hand resting over his broad sword attached to his hip by a golden belt with the emblem of Fiume on the buckle.

"Lucciola! To what do I owe the pleasure?" he said in a saccharine voice, walking around the table to put a hand at Lucciola's shoulder. It was shrugged off and Luc glared at his half-brother.

"What do you think you are doing, Araignee?" he hissed, nodding towards the map on the table. Smile vanishing and glancing at the map, the king's eyebrows rose slightly and he regained the smile, "Well, what does it look like, Lucciola?"

"You are following in your mother's footsteps," the redhead sneered, pinning his half-brother with his golden glare, only to be matched by Araignee's own golden glare.

"That is where you are wrong, dear brother," in a sweeping motion, he returned to the map, bracing his hands on either side of the table. "Our mother was rather flawed in her tactics. Thus leading to her imminent demise...she took a path that I choose not to tread on. No, Lucciola, I'm not following her footsteps."

"And yet you are planning an invasion of Nord?" he said flatly, crossing his arms. Araignee chuckled, "If you wish to put it so vulgarly, yes. But I am past the planning stage...unless you gentleman have any doubts about the current course of action?"

The question was directed to the soldiers. The one with his hand on the hilt of his sword dropped it and murmured in a gruff voice, "No doubts from myself, your highness."

The other made deep-throated scoff and stroked his beard. Araignee raised an eyebrow and turned to him, "What is it?"

"Him," he replied, nodding his head in Lucciola's direction. The redhead narrowed his gold eyes at the man, who averted his own to look at the map.

"And what about 'him'?" asked his brother flatly, slowly rising to his full height. The soldier shifted his weight onto his other leg before saying gruffly, "I'm just wondering why he's here."

Lifting a thin eyebrow, Araignee's eyes flitted to Luc, matching his stare, "Yes, why are you here? Didn't you run off with those pathetic princes?"

Gritting his teeth, Lucciola said nothing.

"Not that, your majesty," the king's eyes returned to his soldier, a curious tilt of his head making the man clear his throat again.

"I was wondering why he was here, and not in Sabbioso. One would think Crowned Prince Lucciola would be there, now that Braise has died."

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When Papillon woke to an empty bed, he panicked.

He started to breathe unsteadily as he scrambled to remove the covers, hanging off the side of the bed to see if his love had fallen. The floor was bare. The mourning cloak let out a choked cry, calling out for his love as he looked frantically around. His eyes fell on Lepidottero, with a relieved sigh. Then with a zeal he hadn't had in a while, he sprung from the bed to run over to the still figure sitting on the window sill, staring out of it distantly.

"Oh, Tero, you got out of bed!" he said breathily, collapsing beside him to rest his head on the moth's lap. With an almost careful slowness, Tero turned his head down to the butterfly, blinking his unfocused eyes once before weakly smiling. It was a simple quirk of a corner of his mouth, he couldn't do much more. With some exertion, he managed to lift his hand and place it limply over Papillon's. How he managed to get out of bed and walk to the window was still a mystery to him. He could have sworn he was dreaming. But he was wide awake and taking cautious steps, possibly minutes between, as his love slept soundly.

"Come, I'll give you another bath, you are covered in sweat," Papillon said, standing and tugging on Tero's hand. Dragging his hazel eyes from their hands to the butterfly-kind's face, his lips lost their faint smirk and he looked almost lost. Brow furrowing quizzically, Papillon took a step back toward him and took his other hand before heaving the moth-kind onto his feet. He stumbled, but Papillon caught him, slinging an arm over his shoulder as Lepidottero sluggishly regained his equilibrium and struggled alongside his love wearily. Papillon shifted so Lepidottero was leaning heavily on him, thus making him able to walk easier. They made it to the bathroom where Papillon pressed his love into a resting chair while he busied himself with drawing the bath.

Lepidottero watched the blurs of his sight move about. He was gaining back his vision gradually, now he could make out figures and shapes, but no definite details. He felt a tug on the hem of his light shirt and then his arms being lifted as it was pulled off. He would have cringed at the cold nipping at his skin, but what energy he had left was to stay sitting up. It was as if his lively energy was halved and then quartered, leaving him as weak as a frail old man or a newborn. He wasn't aware of most things, he barely registered the shift as he was laid back against the chair so Papillon could slip his baggy trousers off and do away with them.

The moth-kind was then led towards the bath and helped in, nearly losing consciousness as the warm water soothed his aching body. He had phantom pains constantly, answering the question if a man still feels his arm tingle after it has been severed. It didn't tingle; it stabbed, stung, ripped, jabbed, tore, splintered, burned, and constricted him.

He looked weakly around, processing the blurs vaguely before finally seeing the slender form of Papillon, slipping from his own robes, the white haze cascading down his shoulders to pool at his feet. Lepidottero watched as the nude mourning cloak stepped carefully around the bath before slipping into the water. The tub was enough to fit four people, but the way Papillon waded over and pressed himself side to side with his love, you'd think it'd be fit for two. Lepidottero's head drooped to rest atop of Papillon's, the butterfly-kind's hand taking clean cloth to soak in the steamy water before dragging it across Lepidottero's chest and lightly pressing it to his paled face. He had lost color and weight since his punishment, despite it had only been a day. His once define chest showed several ribs and his skin was near translucent.

Papillon traced his fingers over the white scars that stood out like new wounds, glistening pearly and bumpy under Papillon's soft fingers. The head of parliament's half-lidded eyes rarely left his lover's face; he was so concerned with him. He placed a chaste kiss on his shoulder before moving closer. Trailing soft kisses down the nape of his neck, Papillon shifted the unresponsive moth-kind so his back was pressed against the smaller lover's chest. He crossed his arms around Lepidottero's shoulders before nuzzling his damp hair.

"I will stay with you, my moth, I will stay right behind you every step to catch you if you fall. I will not move until I can regain my rightful place by your side," he whispered into his scalp, tightening his hold around his shoulders. "I won't let you go this time."

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A/N: Makes you all warm and fuzzy inside in a sad way, neh? Okay, now onto review replies, which take a lot less time than my Charms and Curses story >>

Prisoner-11: Yes, I'm an evil, evil person. Bwhahaha.

Lucifer's Sonata: Intenseness...yeppers. And now, looking back, I realize Po was being very emo. More so than originally thought. It does seem out of character, but that's because you've never seen him without other people around. Alone, he's really moody. Remember, when you first met him, he was crying.

Yuranda: Tero is too good to be dead. He's likeChuck Norris. He just won't die! And it's okay for the no-reviews, at least you reviewed now, hm? I didn't update as soon as I thought I would...(months later :/ ) But, I got it out!

D.H. L'Orange: I would never be able to off Tero. It's, like, IMPOSSIBLE. And Po is getting someone...just not who everyone wants/knows/hopes. And you gave me a good plot twisty thingy! Shweet!

Rachelmorph: He's coming around just fine. Don't worry!

Goldensong: Ha, I got some people bawling. Bwhaha, I'm evil.

Kamikaze: Yep, a lot of people are out for my blood. But mostly for Charms and Curses. This story got put aside, sadly. But now it's back!

Aiiro-Bara: This is what you do: print out the story and read it during class, but make it the tiniest font possible so that your teachers can't read it! That's what I do. Thanks for the loverly review!

Midnights Scream: Papillon. Where'd you get PAM? ::is thinking of the cooking spray...snickers:: And Po is going to get someone.