2018 Writing Scrapbook

The Butterfly Princess

She snuggled up into his arms, feeling his warmth under her and enveloped around her back. The birds chirped in the solemn breeze, and the gravity of their situation seemed to disappear, tossed away into the distance.

They sat like that for a long while, with him rocking her head in his lap. He spied the rocking chair that he'd spent the day meticulously crafting next to their cabin. The cabin was nearly complete. All of their hours of sweat were about to pay off. They'd toiled over it for the past week, making a task that would seemingly take a month or so take only a few weeks. They only had the log roof left to build, and they would've finished their small living quarters.

But she feared that they'd never get to see the roof be mounted onto the top of their quaint cottage. It was always a constant thought in the back of her mind- that they'd finally catch up with them. They'd been on the run for two years, but never had she caught sight of these demons. Never had she let her husband know just how deep this fear was embedded in her.

He had similar thoughts. Even though they'd found a secluded area in the mountainside to live, they could never start a family there. They couldn't got to the local villages for supplies. They couldn't speak to another human being without risking capture.

It was beginning to wear them both down, but there were still some golden, dappled days like that one where they could sit in peace and harmony without a care in the world.

They were bonded by their crime and through their crime, one that wasn't morbid or gruesome, not even inhumane. Rather, their crime was merely them being together, living a life of love and kisses. Only her title and his lack thereof made them mortal enemies to their nation.

"I love you, my princess," he murmured in her ear.

She turned over to face him. "I have told you many times not to call me that. A princess is a woman you must obey, a woman to bow down to in worship. A princess wears fine robes and cares little about the world beyond herself. When you confront me, I want you to stand tall and straight, looking me right in the eye as an equal."

"When have I ever ceased to do so?" he asked her, kissing her on the ear.

"You haven't, I suppose. That is why I kept you around," she agreed. "But I don't see why you must call me princess. That would be like me calling you farm boy. And do I do that?"

"No, but princess is your name, while farmboy is not mine. Princess does not make me see you as any greater of lesser than you are, but simply as you," he explained with a smile.

She clutched him in an amorous hug, and kissed him on the lips, ruffling his hair. When she pulled away to speak, he kept trying to pursue her, leaning his head towards her. She playfully pushed him away. "Why not just call me Giselle, as I call you Tulio?"

"Because there are many, many more Giselles in the world, but only one princess that I can call my own," he whispered.

"You flirt," she gave him a shove.

He got up, pushing her off into the grass. She laughed and stood next to him. At that point, he whirled around and picked the first flower in view, bowing before her in presentation.

"For m'lady," he held it out to her.

"What did I say about bowing to me?" she scolded, giggling lightheartedly.

"Ah, can you not accept a bit of chivalry?" he stood, tucking it behind her ear, letting the white satin petals fall around her hair. Standing back to admire her, he murmured, "You're beautiful."

"You tell me that every day," she replied, brushing his shaggy hair out of his face.

"And Giselle, it's not any less true each time I say it," he pointed out.

They repeated the same conversations that they'd had a million times, but they found pleasure in it, teasing each other even though they were in their early twenties. Sometimes thay'd race down to the river and splash each other with the cold water.

Eventually, they found themselves in the meadow, right outside of their unfinished cabin. Giselle chased a butterfly like a young child, and Tulio laughed.

He joined in, jostling her about, springing himself up on his long legs to catch the creatures that she couldn't reach.

"No! No! You're doing it wrong!" she giggled. "You're snatching at them like a fly swatter! You're going to kill them if you keep this up! No, you've got to cup your hands like this," she showed him.

With an elegance he could not match, she reached into the heavens and clasped her hands around a timid butterfly. She slowly lowered her hands and opened them to reveal the creature, still sitting on her palms. It didn't flutter away. It only sat there, beating its wings.

"Look at how it remains here. That's the beauty of catching a butterfly. It's as wild as the wind, but if done right, it will stay close to you," she murmured. Then she got really close to him. "Do you want to know the secret?" He nodded, looking into her big eyes. "You've got to release it. Let it have the ability to fly away whenever it wants, and chances are, it'll stay."