The Butterfly Book- CHAPTER ONE
IRA RUE WALSH usually didn’t mind her birthday balls. Usually. But this year was different. She couldn’t take her mind off of the topic of her birthday. The thirteenth celebration. Each year the red ink circled December 28th, but this time, Ira knew it was different because on that very December 28th she would receive her guardian butterfly and it absolutely needed to go smoothly. There was no space for any black butterflies as the public would go insane over it. Everyone would be at her ball. Royals, nobles, and even villagers. Ira’s stomach twisted into a million knots as she imagined the headers of the newspapers. Princess Ira on the path of Evil! Princess Ira receiving a Black Butterfly!? The worry that tumbled through her head never got any slower.
That day, a line slashed through December 26th on the calendar, only two days were left and with that her parents, king and queen of Divicomb, were extremely busy. Ira’s maids dashed into her bedroom. They collected her from her bed, and she sighed heavily. That day, her and her parents were to observe the village and listen to the townspeople's needs. Along with that they were to remind everyone that nobles and commoners alike were welcome to Ira’s birthday ball. Once Ira had put on an indigo knee length, pleated dress her maids escorted her from the west wing to the entrance. On their way, they passed through the ballroom and Ira caught a glimpse of the preparation of her birthday ball. Servants swayed hurriedly through the palace, attempting to swipe up every last stain. The party planner and their workers made sure that all the supplies ordered had arrived. Other workers hung up illustrious tapestries of princesses with pearl white butterflies and their princes close by with their perfect butterflies as well. Indigo silk streamers lined the roof. Ira smiled. Indigo was her favorite color after all.
At last Ira made it to the front of the palace and bounced over to her parents.
“Morning, Ira,” Her father pronounced. Suddenly her mother jumped over to her, clutching one of Ira’s many coats.
“Here’s your coat,” She asserted. “Goodness, you forgot your mittens as well.” The queen shook her head, her long shiny black hair moving with her.
“I’ll be fine. It can’t be that cold.” The disappointment in her mother’s emerald eyes grew and Ira’s father chuckled.
“Here, take mine for now,” Her mother sighed. “It’s snowing very heavily so keep them on.” Then they bounded out the tall weathered down, wood doors which lead to the long cobblestone bridge. Ira’s eyes dilated in glee. The entire bridge was littered with pure snow including the obsidian firefly street lamps that stood on each corner of the piers. She and her parents cautiously stepped to the carriage at the end of it. Their white and red carriage trudged through the thick white snow slowly, trying to reach the town square. Ira poked her head out the window and freezing icy wind instantly blasted her tan skin. She squinted her viridescent eyes. Many villagers were already there, ready to speak their mind. Ira had tons of respect for her parents. As monarchs they took their work seriously and were courteous towards their people and it showed. They would often make their rounds through the kingdom to check on the commoners, especially during winter. And their first stop would be the closest village, Wellington. When they stepped out of the carriage a herd of journalists barricaded them from the villagers. Lots of them held notebooks poised to start taking notes of each piece of dialogue the queen and king would give them. Obviously, they were expecting at least a few words on Princess Ira’s thirteenth celebration. The receiving of her butterfly. Of course, the press, and the entire kingdom was expecting a cloud white butterfly. With the same outlining of gray diamonds that every single one had. The same type both of her parents had received. The journalists had already started bombarding Ira’s parents with questions.
One asked, “Your majesty, when will the ball be taking place?”
“Is it true that even villagers can go?”
“Princess Ira,” One called. “Are you anxious to receive your guardian butterfly?” Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach. She glanced back at her parents, waiting for them to say something, anything.
“Everyone, including commoners of Divicomb, is invited to Princess Ira’s ball,” The king answered. The crowd of villagers cheered.
“And the ball will be taking place on December 28th starting at 7 pm,” The queen said. “Me and King Liam are extremely grateful for those of you attending to see Ira’s most special day.” Applause roared from the crowd. Ira and her parents stepped back into the carriage and it skittered onto the multiple other towns to announce Ira’s ball and answer questions about it. By the time they reached the last village, Ira was utterly tired and freezing. In the last town, Kinship, the weather was even more frigid than in any others. While there was no snow, sleet and black ice was scattered all over. Villagers were bundled up in several layers of coats and scarves and mittens and pants. Kinship also happened to be the village where the Carroll Theatre and Carroll family’s mansion(s) were. Ira’s family worked closely together with the Carroll family, as they were nobles. Caden Carroll was also part of the Royal council. The king and queen once again discussed the details of Ira’s ball. How everyone was invited and when it would take place. They answered a few questions. Luckily for Ira, there were no words of her future guardian butterfly. She was at peace. Suddenly someone familiar was bumbling over to them. Countess Hildegarde. A noble who was a cousin of the Carroll family. Her long puffy satin dress trailed behind. It’s red tone complemented her dark mahogany-colored cardigan and hat and her pale skin and red hair glistened in the faint sunlight.
“Zara, Liam! Strange seeing you out here and you too Ira,” She crouched down to her level and Ira melded a smile on her face.
“It's been a while since I’ve seen you, Hildegarde,” The queen mumbled with a forcibly joyful tone.
“Aww, Ira has grown up so fast!” She cooed. “Her thirteenth birthday is just around the corner, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Ah yes, well I’m sure she’s excited to get her butterfly,” Strain painted the queen’s face and she nodded tightly. “Mm, well let’s hope it's a white one,” The countess continued. “It would be a shame if she were cursed with some mutant butterfly of sorts. Like, I don’t know, a red butterfly?” She narrowed her eyes and set them at King Liam. Ira looked back at her mother, who was seething. Her mother nervously chuckled.
“Ha—ha. That could never happen. It’s not even physically possible.”
“You never know.” Ira’s mom bit her lip.
“Well we should get going, you know how it gets in the winter time around these parts,” Zara said reluctantly. She pulled Liam’s arm and motioned for Ira to follow along.
“Right.. Good luck, Ira,” She remarked. The queen gave a short-tempered smile and they moved along. The queen was certainly angry once they reached the carriage. Ira could see her muttering furiously about Countess Hildegarde. The king only sighed and assured her that they’d be fine. That the ball would be fine. The butterfly would be perfectly fine and normal. Normal. Ira’s birthday was approaching more rapidly than she thought. Right on the 27th her family were already wishing her good luck. Telling her that her butterfly would be beautiful. And white. That she had nothing to worry about. With her birthday being the next day, her parents had an abnormally serious talk with her.
“Tomorrow is your birthday, aren't you an excited one!” Her mother exclaimed.
“Yeah, I’ll finally get my butterfly!” Ira blossomed. She longed for the night to pass quickly.
“Right,” Her father muttered with a tight smile. “Look, Ira, me and your mother are very excited for you as well, but if anything goes wrong–” Zara cut him off.
“I’m sure you'll be just fine, now you must hurry to bed, it’ll be quite the busy night after your big day,” Her mother countered. Ira pursed her lips, fidgeting with her fingers.
“Alright then..” Ira headed to her room that was just down a hall to the east wing. Just before she closed her door she could hear threads of her parent’s near silent conversation. Her father uttered something about being worried. Her mother spoke of a white butterfly. Before she completely closed the door she heard a name she hadn’t heard in years. Rue Walsh. Ira’s grandmother. Something about her situation? THUD! The book Ira was clutching slipped from her hands. The king and queen’s heads turned speedily like a deer turning back after hearing a gunshot. Ira shut the door, her face hot from the embarrassment.
Ira fell to her bed and sank into the sheets. It just wouldn’t leave her mind why her father— no, both of her parents— seemed so worried. Then she came to a conclusion that had been sealed away in the back of her mind; her parents feared she would get a black butterfly. A path to utter tragedy. Perhaps even they bought into the myth of their bad luck.
🦋🦋🦋
Sunlight spilled into Ira’s giant room. As her eyes fluttered open, the short script of paper was the first thing she saw. In red ink, a circle surrounded the number 28 on the calendar. A huff of exasperation escaped her mouth. She dragged herself out of bed and stumbled towards the big window attached to her peach colored wall. As she pulled back the red curtains, she could see the beautiful village below. People were bustling about the colorful painted houses and rickety red-wood shops. Then of course, three carriages were lined up on the pavement. The white carriage that was lined with gold accents was empty with its passengers standing out on the road. It was the Carroll family of nobles. The other mahogany colored carriage was still buzzing with commotion. She leaned in closer to the window and realized it was her aunt, uncle and cousins. Her aunt and uncle were squabbling. The last carriage was a black one with tiny windows. It only had one man that Ira couldn’t recognize.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ira noticed something sitting on the windowsill. She tumbled backward. Almost landing on her flat on the floor. Wings, antenna, eyes. In. Front. Of. Her. She held her breath. Blinked over and over. It was her butterfly. That wasn't the problem. Was there a problem? Ira couldn't tell. As her jaw hung open the butterfly’s bright red wings fluttered.
“Ira…” Her mother uttered. “Where..where did you find that butterfly?”
“I told you already. It was just sitting on the window,” Ira said.
Ira’s attempt to eat breakfast peacefully had not gone so well. Her mother was questioning her nonstop about the butterfly and her father just watched in silence. He wore a serious expression as he listened.
“But…It couldn't be your butterfly, could it?” Her mother said exasperated.
“I thought butterflies were only black and white,” Ira said quietly. “So why is mine red?” Her mother sighed deeply and her father only looked back at her with the same silence. Ira knew there had to be something deeper than it just happening. “So?” she pressed.
“I— we don't know, Ira,” Her mother responded. “We’ll figure it out but for now you have a ball to prepare for. Go get ready,”
“But–”
“Go.”
The ball wouldn't start until 7 pm when the sky grew heavy with darkness so Ira decided to go for a walk. She stuffed the red butterfly into her crimson satchel, pleading with it to stay put (it was rather unruly) and trekked along. Ira hiked all the way to the outskirts of the village, her destination being the home of Blaire Arzhur, who was a witch and her friend.
As soon as Ira entered the tall wooden hut the smell of herbs and potions filled her nose. Clearly Blaire’s mother, Leilani was occupied brewing potion. After all, plants were her specialty. Ira knocked anxiously on the door, scanning the perimeter to avoid anyone who may recognize her. Blaire opened the door and smiled when she saw Ira.
“Hi, Ira! I didn’t know you’d be here, especially with the ball tonight,” She gasped.”Wait, wait, you got your butterfly right?” Ira nodded, eyes still glued to the ground.
“Can I see it?” Blaire asked.
“Uh, sure.. let’s just go inside first.”
A huge bubbling coal-black cauldron sat on the wooden plank floor. Blaire’s mother stared at the red butterfly. She didn’t seem to be frightened but of course, she was very confused. Ira exhaled quietly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen something like this,” Blaire’s mother said.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Ira whispered in defeat.
Leilani was an extremely experienced witch. She had graduated from a private witches’ academy in Vinewell and she and her ancestors had worked closely with the royal family of Divicomb for decades. Years of research and lessons were still fresh in her mind. She was knowledgeable but this, was something Leilani had not a clue about.
“Could I take a look at it?” The red butterfly inched backwards. Ira persuaded it to grapple onto her finger and slowly handed it to Leilani.
“There.” The butterfly’s antennae lowered. Leilani inspected its remarkable features. The markings on its wings were most atypical. The majority of butterflies had diamond or speckle shaped markings but this butterfly was adorned with hearts. Another one of its peculiar features was (obviously) its incredulously bright vermillion color. All butterflies were, of course, meant to be either pearl white or coal black. There were absolutely zero records of colorful butterflies. Besides its unusual appearance, its movements and behavior struck Leilani as strange. Something about it was just so—self aware. It didn’t spin around mindlessly like some butterflies; its movements were precise and minimal. Proper, even. Despite all of these observations Leilani had no conclusion.
“There isn’t really that much research that's done on butterflies besides what’s already known,” Blaire’s mother explained. “But I have a couple books about guardian butterflies laying around.” She searched through the mountains of books that weren’t on the already full book shelves. Then she pulled out a dusty hardcover book and wiped away the clouds of dust. Engraved in gold letters was ‘BUTTERFLIES AND OTHER MYSTERIES’.
“You can take this one. I haven’t read through much of it but maybe it could help.” She tossed the book to Ira. She flipped through the pages of the book as Blaire peeked from behind. Many diagrams of butterflies, their history, differences. Then she noticed faded red wings flick past on one of the pages. The page was full of wrinkles and made a crease in the spine. Though the entirety of the page was burned and the only legible thing was the header which read; ‘RED BUTTERFLIES’.
“That was kind of useless,” Blaire muttered. “Maybe read the other stuff,”
“Yeah, I will after the ball,” Ira remarked. She headed towards the door. “You’re still going to the ball, right?”
“Of course! It’ll be fun,” Blaire marveled. “I’ve never been to a royal ball.. And Elias is going right?”
“Yeah.”
“Right. Well I’ll see you then,” Ira slipped her hooded coat back on and gave Blaire one last wave goodbye.
Nightfall fell upon Divicomb quickly and Ira gazed out her window, a hand to her cold glass window. Swarms of villagers were already entering the castle doors. Royals and nobles exited their carriages embellished in rich jewels and lacy ball gowns. Alas, the receiving of a guardian butterfly was taken immensely seriously. She turned back to her red butterfly that lay on her nightstand. A sigh came from her. How did this ever happen? When she was already worried of what the public would think of her once she gained her butterfly, she just had to get this mutant butterfly. Ira scowled. She looked to the window once more. Something caught her eye. Elias and his family were ambling to the castle. Ira could recognize his pale complexion and red hair, even from a distance. She would have waved but he wouldn’t see her. Though Ira would wish in later years that she did wave. Suddenly, a knock came to her door. A maid waltzed in.
“Princess,” She announced, bowing. “The ball is about to begin.”
“Okay, just give me a moment.” The maid nodded and stepped out of the room. The door closed with a snap. Ira could feel her eyes swell with tears. She was petrified. Nothing except utterly fearful. But there was nothing she could do. Ira sucked in a breath of cold air. Let’s just get this over with, she thought to herself, surely mom will have a solution to this. She took one last look at herself in the mirror. Her short neck-length hair had been curled. She was dressed in a huge midnight blue ball gown that scintillated with swarovski crystals and a necklace made of diamonds in the shape of a butterfly. Ira messed around with her hair once more and decided it was time. She stuffed the red butterfly in her satchel and sauntered out the door.
The maid had guided her backstage where her mother and father were. Ira’s mom rushed up to her, immediately embracing her into a hug.
“Hey, sweetie,” She exclaimed. “You look stunning!” Ira noticed her dad was simply observing from a distance. Then the royal advisor walked in. He bowed towards the king and queen and went to the altar onstage. For the beginning speech. The royal advisor stood tall at the altar, ready to speak. And the party commenced.
“Hello, ladies and gentlemen,” He began. “We all thank you for attending this years ball celebrating Princess Ira’s very special day,” Shouts of applause echoed from the assorted audience. “Today, of course, is much more special. As it’s the 13th birthday of Princess Ira,” Ira’s mother shifted uncomfortably and her father stood taller. “Since today is when she shall receive her butterfly,” The speaker finished. Then another round of applause rose from the crowd, stronger this time. Ira held her satchel tighter. She could feel the chorus of wingbeats. Flap, flutter, flap, flutter.
“Ira,” Her mother whispered seriously. “Don’t worry, it’ll all be fine. They all know, okay? Just walk up there and they’ll do the rest,”
“Are you sure?” Ira stammered. “I—What if-” The speaker cut their conversation short. Ira held her breath and listened. Her mother in the same state of worry as her.
“Why don’t you come up to the stage?” The speaker said, motioning towards Ira. Her heart skipped a beat as she just stared. Her mother gave a shove. The noise of her heels echoed. The thumping of her heart even louder. The crowd’s eye followed each move. One. Two. Three.
“So, tell us, have you already gotten your butterfly?” The speaker questioned.
“Er, yes. This morning,” Ira uttered into the microphone.
“Amazing! Would you mind showing us?” Ira looked slowly at her parents. They were leaning toward the stage, watching. Everyone else was eager to see her butterfly. She turned back to the speaker.
“Sure,” She said, Still gripping the satchel, she waited for something to happen. Her mother promised. All of her hope and trust was in her castle maid. The staff, the others who kept everything in order. She could hear a familiar beat of wings. Small, fragile. It got closer and closer. A small thud was heard. Her eyes turned. A white butterfly sat on her shoulder. Suddenly a roar of applause came from the crowd. The royals cheered and clapped. Ira’s legs felt like jelly. She was about to collapse from the shock. She looked back to see her mother’s smile and teary eyes. Ira lowered her head and breathed heavily.
“Good luck,” The speaker remarked, patting her on the back. She ambled back to her parents beamed.
🦋🦋🦋
Ira was showered with praise and well wishes from family and royals and others. The royals congratulated her. Admired the butterfly. Tried to get it to fly to them (though it would always cower away). It was all going well and the dread consuming Ira slowly faded away. Then her aunt walked over with her five children and wealthy husband.
“Oh Ira” Her aunt wailed. She hugged Ira tightly. Her eyes puffy and teary. “We knew you would get a white butterfly! I’m so happy for you, you’ll have an amazing life. And remember we’ll always be here for you,”
“Thank you, aunt Naya,” Ira laughed. It was strange but nothing less than she expected from her aunt.
“Really though, Ira. I was worried and so was Zara. This..It could’ve ended up a lot worse Ira,” She breathed. “I’m proud of you. Not just for the butterfly, of course.”
“Thanks,” Ira responded. Her uncle simply waved and laughed along with her. Her cousins on the other hand, were brimming with curiosity. Reaching out for the butterfly as their mother tried to usher them away. It was all going well. All going as planned. Ira almost forgot about the butterfly in her satchel that was growing impatient. Ira was getting tired as she always did at her parties. She went to sit down at one of the tables drenched in pure white cloth. Resting her head in her arms, she looked around the ballroom. There was the usual couples dancing in the middle of the room, in the spotlight. Dresses swaying in unison. Many of the royals were standing around making conversation. Some would be known to use balls as an opportunity to marry off their daughters. Word got around fast amongst the royal community. It seemed many of them were showing off their children’s butterflies.
Ira on the other hand was looking for Blaire and Elias’ among the horde of people. The party had only started around 20-30 minutes ago, Ira thought. They'll be here soon.
Soon enough Blaire ran up to Ira hurriedly, seeming concerned but excited.
“Ira! Ira! Ira!” She shouted at the top of her lungs. Blaire strided full force towards her.”The butterfly, where is it?”
“It’s in the satchel,” Ira quipped. She motioned for Blaire to lower her voice.
“Oh, right,” She said, lowering her volume. She gripped her satchel more tightly. The butterfly was growing more and more antsy. Especially with Blaire’s voice. Ira’s breath quickened. Elias was shuffling through the crowd and trying to cut a conversation with Countess Hildegarde short. Ira noticed him glowering at her. After a grueling twenty minutes Elias’ walked off to Ira.
“Ira,” He said in a strict tone. “The butterfly? Where is it,” “What? Did you tell Elias about the butterfly,” Ira huffed. Blaire nodded and pointed at Ira’s satchel. “Look—you know how my family is. They could spread this to all of the royals and that would end horribly. My aunt could find out at any momen-” Countess Hildegarde walked over with her flock of noble friends. They hushed their chattering when the countess flashed them a quick glare.
“Hello, Ira it’s so nice to see you so grown up.” She chittered. “We just wanted to see that beautiful butterfly of yours,” Some sneers came from the countess’ group.
“Mhm, here it is,” Ira replied. The white butterfly slid down from her shoulder to the air.
“Oh, well isn’t it just adorable!” She squealed. The countess reached out for the butterfly that reluctantly landed on her fingertip. Hildegarde’s group of nobles huddled around her. The then group passed around the butterfly oohing in awe. Almost as if they expected something bad. Ira and Blaire exchanged nervous glances.
“And it’s white as well,” Countess Avara, a noble of the Davies family, chuckled in amazement. Out of the blue, the countess reached out and tentatively tried to poke at the butterfly’s wings. The butterfly reflexively pulled away and Ira reached out for it. Only after was when she realized she let go of the satchel.
Countess Avara blanched. Ira was confused at the wide stares. Though Blaire looked up and her jaw dropped. Suddenly Ira heard it. The faint wing beats of her butterfly. She lowered her head to the marble tile. Hot stares burned through her. FWOOSH FWISH! Each beat louder as the crowd’s chatter got quieter. Ira’s eyes switched between Blaire and Elias, looking for any help. Both her parents were petrified. Glass shattered, liquid spilled.
“A red butterfly!?” Countess Hildegarde shrieked in horror.
“Oh goodness,” Countess Avara’s voice trailed off. “See I told you all, this girl is cursed just like her grandmother was..” Her mother shoved and pushed to the crowd trying to get to Ira. She was as quick as a fly skidding past the sea of tables. Guards pursued behind her and Ira shrank against the table, desperately hanging to the white cloth. Each guard took her arm and dragged her away. She barely even got the chance to cry out as their hands stuck to her like tree sap. The light from the fireflies above shuddered and dimmed as chattering guests stuck to walls. Seemingly in fear. Before Ira was swept away she took one last peek at her parents. Zara clung to Liam and sighed at Ira with tear-scattered eyes.
Ira sat angrily in her bed scribbling in a notebook. The fountain pen splattered ink all over her hands and she threw it across the room. Moonlight hovered over her and she rested her head over the windowsill. Night covered the sky and all was quiet. When the guards dragged her away they had locked her in her room. Fortunately or maybe unfortunately her butterfly was still with her. Ira knew she had to escape her tower. She immediately went to work thinking of all the possibilities. She knew she couldn’t just use her sheets to climb down. It was too risky and she would certainly be caught. Escaping through the halls of the castle wasn’t viable. Then she remembered something as she stared at the map in her room. She picked up a navy blue coat and scanned the path that stretched from the first tower to the last. As it did every night, a cart bumped up along the path and stopped at the tower Ira was trapped in. The person in the cart would deliver mountains of food and there were still a few remaining in it. The fall wasn’t going to be peaceful but Ira knew she couldn’t stay there any longer. Footsteps approached, Several. From down the hall. Ira glanced at the door. Slipping on her hood, she leaped out. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she felt the rough wooden cart under her. Ira’s arms ached and her whole back was bruised but she had made it alive. And that moment that was all that mattered. Ira shuddered awake and just barely avoided being spotted by the person on the cart. She floated away slowly like a ghost into the alleyways of the nearby town. The only thing that was recognizable was the bright white signs that read the names of streets. Morblia street and Lucil road. Her eyes followed the cobblestone streets and she saw the comforting dirt path she knew. After limping all the way to the small hill she saw it; Blaire’s tall cottage. She turned back still clutching her cloak. Lanterns were lit up with tangerine colored light swiveled around as horses trotted around the tow. Guards holding their spears. She took a shallow, shaky breath and stepped towards the cottage.
Of course, the first person to greet Ira was Blaire. Worry spread across her face. Rain was already flooding down and Ira’s navy blue coat was drenched in water. She grabbed her arm and pulled her inside the house after seeing the infestation of guards downtown. Blaire shook her head slowly, seemingly in shock.
“Oh my god, Ira, what happened?” Blaire stammered, leading Ira to the large table full of potions. “I thought the guards locked you in the castle,” Her head fell to the table as she gazed back at Blaire. She didn’t know where to start.
“What happened after I was taken away?” She asked.
“Well, most people left after seeing your butterfly and the party ended soon after you were dragged away anyways,” She explained. “How’d you escape?”
“I jumped into someone’s cart,” She chuckled. Blaire gasped softly. She held up a lantern to her face and slipped off her cloak. “I’m fine–” Ira began but Blaire was glaring at her after noticing the bruises on her arm. Some small bleeding wounds were scattered along Ira’s arm. Blaire picked up some vials from the table with tiny labels. She spilled some of the strange potion on top of the tiny wounds and they disappeared with a cloud of blue sparkles.
“Is that better?” Ira smiled and nodded. “Alright, well you can stay in my room and I’ll go talk to my mom” Ira dragged herself to the room down the short hall and fell into the bed. It felt heavenly after all of what happened that night. Ira just wondered what would become of her life now. She glanced over at her red butterfly that stared back at her. She huffed and rolled over. It all happened because of one little birthday.
Because of the last celebration.
thank you so much for reading :)