Chapter Text
After the war, Bug hardly slept. Sleep meant dreams, and dreams meant nightmares. Or memories, which were almost worse.
Even still, she could not escape it all the time. In her corner in the library, on walks as she paced up and down streets, or whenever her mind lost focus, for even a minute or two. Memories from the battles and memories from long before, causing a bittersweet pain.
As she paced all around her stacks of books, the memories took their turns.
<<<>>>
Purple and blue light seeped through the stained glass windows of her mother’s study. Bug sat with legs crossed on the soft woven rug, picking at the loose strings coming up. Her mother ran long delicate fingers through Bug’s golden hair, weaving flowers through the simple braid. She flicked the end of it in her child’s face, and smiled at the young girl's giggles. The small green wings vibrated with her.
“Oh my girl,” she cooed, hugging her from behind and pulling her onto her lap. “My little sunshine.” Bug grabbed her mother’s hand, and played with her fingers. Spinning the golden band with a sun and moon carved delicately in it.
Bug listened as her mother hummed softly, rocking the girl. Bug smiled.
<<<>>>
Bug stopped pacing. She wrapped her arms around herself, her smile vanished along with her wings.
Quietly, she hummed to herself. It came out broken and at odd pitches. So unlike her mother’s soft angelic voice. Her hands went to her neck, scrambling to undo the top button of her shirt. Slightly crooked fingers gripped an old golden chain. Pulling on it, she tugged the ring out from its hiding place. Her’s wasn’t the same as the one her mother always wore, but rather it had a small butterfly. And through her silent tears another memorie bloomed
<<<>>>
The sounds of metal crashing on metal flooded her ears. Ten year old Bug sat in the grass. Watching as her father, and Nid fought. Both fell into their well known dance. Their wings flicked with excitement, the only thing giving away what they thought. Ant’s sword swinged high, then low. Bug’s brother dodged swiftly, his red hair that matched their mother’s swishing behind him. He would crouch low, then bring his sword up quickly, only to get blocked by Ant. Causing a loud clang that hurt Bug’s ears.
Her ears flooded with the sound of shouting and metal on metal.
She brought her hands up to cover her ears. Ant stepped forward with each block, getting closer and closer to Nid, forcing him back into the mud lining the little road. Bug knew once he stepped in the middle of it, the dance would be over. Both of their expressions remained unreadable.
The sound of thunder and the sloshing of boots in the mud.
Nid kicked his leg out, hitting Ant in the knee. He fell, and Nid grabbed the arm holding the sword. Although their father was strong, Nid was faster, his wings making him hover slightly above the ground. As Ant broke free, Nid was already behind him. Pressing an arm to the front of his body, sword against his neck. All this in five seconds. They stood like that, both of their shoulders going up and down. Ant smiled, and patted the arm over him.
“Atta boy! That was good!” The arm fell away, Nid’s face broke into a smile. Strands of hair clung to his face, with a red bandana from his pocket he wiped his face. Down went the sword onto the ground.
Bug’s sword abandoned in the mud in favor of her bow.
Bug clapped, she jumped up and flew to them. Nid with enough time to tuck his bandana away to catch the soaring pixie in a hug. In the air they spun. Nid’s blue wings beating faster to make up for Bug’s still slow ones. Slowly they descended back down to their smiling father.
A joyless smile stared down at her.
“My turn my turn!” Bug laughed. With both hands she picked up her brother’s sword, and wiped the mud with her sleeve.
“Oh really?” Nid playfully challenged. One eyebrow raised. Bug nodded, her smile faded. A new determination. Her eyes caught on the blue gem at the base of its handle. The dull practice sword still just as cherished in Bug’s eyes as any priceless thing.
She stayed far from her sword now. Preferring any other weapon.
“Sure kiddo, one quick one.” Her father eyed the sky, skeptical of the gray clouds that had slowly been appearing. Nid steps back, a smile formed as he watched Bug spread her feet apart, bending her knees. Her eyebrows scrunched up like the time she tried the muffins he made.
Very slowly Ant brought his sword down in a long stride, letting it get blocked by her. Her arms rattled with the impact. Again and again they practiced blocking. Bug smiled again.
“Focus sunshine, keep your face blank if you can.”
“Mhm!” Never let the other person know your thoughts.
The soft pitter patter sounded around them. They increased their speed by a small bit. Their clinks are faster and closer together.
A deafening boom of thunder shook Bug’s bones, shocked, she fell backwards. A scream with the sight of her father’s sword swiftly coming down. Ant pulled back, backing up quickly.
He dropped his sword, scooping up his youngest who was crying in the mud. She shook and shook, and pressed her face into his shirt. The freezing rain beat down on them. A voice called from the front step of the house, a yellow light turned on illuminating Bug’s mother.
“All of you inside now!” her voice boomed. Nid grabbed the mud soaked swords and ran in. Bug and Ant soon after.
Bug still shook inside, wrapped in a blanket next to her parents. Blubbering about the sword and the thunder. Her mother hugged her.
“Aw honey, don’t cry. I know it was scary but you did it!” she whispered. “Here. I was going to wait but might as well do it now. It might cheer you up.” She stood and flew into her study. Returning shortly with two little boxes. One she handed to Nid, and the other to Bug. Bug looked at their father, who just nodded. Both opened it to find a golden ring like the one around their parents’ fingers. In each ring, a butterfly was engraved in the middle, surrounded all the way round with little suns.
“A gift to always keep us connected,”
<<<>>>
She wore that ring for years and years. When the last battle of the war began, she had looked to her hand for confidence. Only to see it gone.
When it was all over, in the medical tent hastily set up, Bug sat in the back corner, numb all over. Dried mud and tears caked her face. A large light blanket draped over her shoulders, bulged with the destroyed wings. Blonde hair fell in front of her face, blocking hollow eyes from the view of others.
A pair of dirt caked boots came into her vision. The person crouched down in front of her. Prancer. Their normal stone cold face remained, but their eyes lacked the usual sternness.
“This yours?” they asked, holding out the palm of their hand. A golden ring.
And once again the tear ducts broke.
Prancer’s eyes darted around, unsure what they did wrong. They gently hugged her, unsure what else to do. Bug held the ring close to her heart, and cried.
At some point she had sunk to her knees. Hands in her head. Two lines stained her face, her hands pressed to the floor. How long she had been there she didn’t know, the dust covered window provided the last orange glimpse of sun from the sunset. Bug stood on numb legs, tucked the ring back under her shirt, and disappeared into her little room.
<<<>>>
She had to send it at some point. They deserved to know.
Bug stared at the crisp white envelope, two pieces of paper shoved into it. An address she had shakily written the night before. Not sure if she would send it when she poured her grief out on the paper. It felt like giving up, accepting things changed. Accepting that she was.. wrong.
Addressed to Ant and Moth Cect.
The first sentence to them, two simple words heavy with meaning.
I’m sorry.