To those of you that are reading:
Welcome to my promised tale of Edward Richtofen's past! c:
Hopefully in this story I'll be able to shed a little light on the way I picture his character, including his twisted world-view.
I hope you enjoy the way I portray his childhood, bittersweet though it may be ... and I hope you stick around to read the whole story!
(Some of you might recognize half of this chapter ... ;D)
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Edward likes to see how things work. It gets him into trouble.
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The Calm Before the Storm
Die Ruhe vor dem Sturm
CHAPTER ONE
Understanding
Verständnis
"Mama, mama!" whined Minna, running into the kitchen.
Tears were streaming down her face, making her blonde curls stick to her cheeks.
Therese wiped her long fingers on her apron, frowning down at her youngest child. "What is it, Wilhelmina?" she asked, her bright green eyes tired. "I must finish supper before your papa gets home, or he will be very angry with me. I hope this is important." She was stretched thin. Between pleasing her overbearing husband and raising her children, life was a constant struggle.
Little Minna held out a crushed Matryoshka doll, sniffling. "Edward ruined it!" she sobbed, her long blonde eyelashes clumped with tears. "He ruined it!"
Therese sighed. She was already exhausted, and she knew he wouldn't understand what he'd done. But she called him in anyway. "Edward!" Her voice was hoarse. "Edward, come here!"
Someone made an exasperated noise in the hallway, edging out into view.
It was a boy, aged six, tall for his age and skinny as a rail. He pouted as he walked into the kitchen.
Therese looked drained as she stepped over to him, kneeling her long body down to his level. She met his eyes, green just like hers, and cleared her throat. "Now Edward," she began, the same old trope. "What did I tell you about your sister's toys?"
He looked bored. "Minna's toys are not for breaking," he mumbled. It sounded like he'd said it many times before.
"That's right," said Therese, grabbing his shoulders. He looked at her and sighed.
"But Mama, I don't understand," he moaned. "I've already taken all of my toys apart."
Therese stroked her hands up into her son's thick, golden hair, combing it between her fingers. "My sweet boy," she murmured, "I know it's difficult. But you're not like everyone else," she said consolingly. "Minna is like the other girls and boys; she wants to keep her toys the way they are. She doesn't need to know how they work."
Edward huffed. "But why? Why doesn't she want to know?"
A lock of dark blonde hair fell into Therese's face, and she brushed it back. "Not everyone is as curious as you are, Edward," she explained, cupping his soft little cheeks in her hands. "So when you break other's toys, they don't understand, and it hurts their feelings."
He was frowning. "It wouldn't hurt my feelings if someone took my toy apart," he grumbled. "I would help them."
Therese sighed. "One day, my boy," she murmured. "One day you will understand." She kissed him on the forehead. "Go play outside and look at the pretty flowers. Maybe you can figure out what makes them work." She gave him a little nudge and he ran out the door, consumed with a new objective.
It was a bright, colorful day. The grass was green and cool under his feet; the sun was warm on his face. Even the clouds were fluffy and white, making such interesting shapes. He smiled up at them.
His mother kept a small garden behind their house, but there was an even bigger, better garden across the field, at Herr Blumenthal's. That's where the big boys Fritz and Imre lived; the boys that Edward's father wanted him to play with. But Edward liked being alone. He could think better when he was alone.
Something floated by him in the air, catching his attention.
It was a butterfly, lovely and delicate.
He chased it.
Across the field he ran, straight for Blumenthal's farm. And at the big, beautiful garden, the butterfly landed on a flower. He stepped up close, leaning over to observe. It was even more intricate than he thought. So many colors and shapes; he squinted down at the complicated patterns, reaching out a finger to touch.
The butterfly flitted off.
He frowned, resuming the chase.
This time, when it landed, he snuck up slowly, lifting one of his hands. He was an expert at catching things, and this butterfly would be no exception. In an instant, he'd snatched it. It struggled between his fingers, shaking colorful dust onto his skin, and he tried to hold it still. He couldn't see anything with it fluttering so fast.
Suddenly, one of the delicate wings broke off into his palm, and he gasped, holding it up to his face. The butterfly struggled off of his hand, landing on the ground; but he paid no attention to that. He was much more interested in all the fluorescent colors, the hundreds of fragile veins, all of them weaving across the film of the wing.
It was more beautiful than art.
He squinted at the glittering scales on his skin, smudged like fairy dust.
Then somebody gasped.
He looked up.
A pretty girl in a white dress stood by the garden, staring at him. "Why did you do that?" she asked, and he could hear the pain in her voice. Her bottom lip wobbled. "Why did you hurt it?"
Edward frowned. "I just wanted to look at it," he said. "It wouldn't stay still."
The girl pouted and ran over to kneel at his feet, picking up the one-winged butterfly. "But now it's dying," she murmured. It crawled weakly across her small hand. Her eyebrows bunched together and she cupped her palm as she stood up, keeping it safe. Then she plucked a flower and placed it inside, next to the butterfly.
Edward frowned. "It's just one butterfly," he said.
She turned to face him with angry black eyes. "Wait here," she commanded. Then she ran off.
He stood there, shuffling between his feet and frowning. This was stupid. He didn't even want to look at the wing anymore. He put it on the ground and wiped his hands off on his Lederhosen, bored and annoyed. He'd just decided to leave when the girl returned.
Edward noticed the butterfly was gone.
"Mama's taking care of it," the girl explained. "Now come with me."
She grabbed his arm and dragged him along.
"Where are we going?" he complained.
"You'll see," she said.
They crossed the field, behind Blumenthal's farm. Then they stepped through a thorny old hedge. Edward could feel the branches catching at his skin, and he grit his teeth, wondering if he should hate this girl. But when they finally pushed through the grasping leaves, he had to catch his breath.
It was a meadow. A glorious meadow. Flowers of every color blossomed all around them in great big clusters. His mouth gaped open, and he walked along the hedge, feeling his heart start to pound. Vines with sweet-smelling leaves tickled his nose. Dewdrops sprinkled his feet. There were so many things to see, to smell, to taste. His head was spinning.
"Look," the girl said, pointing to the sky.
He looked up, smoothing the hair out of his eyes.
He'd never seen so many butterflies. They fluttered overhead, dozens of them, flitting from flower to flower. Their wings glittered in the bright sunlight. And the colors. More colors than he could've ever imagined. He squinted at the beauty of them, overwhelmed.
He turned back to the girl.
"What's your name?" he asked, mystified.
"Clara," she said, smiling. "You?"
"I'm Edward," he said.
She laughed. "Edward. I like that name." Then she looked back up at the sky, spreading her arms and twirling. The skirt of her dress billowed out like the petals of a big white flower, and she smiled.
"See how happy they are, Edward?" she giggled. Her eyes glittered. "They're so happy to be alive."
He looked up at the fluttering butterflies. They were like flowers in the sky.
"They're happy to be alive?" he asked, confused. Could butterflies be happy?
She grabbed his arm. "Of course! Now twirl with me." And they twirled. The world around them was a whirlwind of color, rushing flowers, sparkling sunlight. A wonderful rush of happiness overwhelmed him, and he laughed, giddy.
They fell to the sweet, warm grass, giggling.
"Aren't you happy to be alive?" she asked, her voice soft.
He smiled at her, nodding.
She took a deep, joyful breath, watching the butterflies. "Me, too. Just like them." She sighed. Then she turned her sparkling black eyes to look at him. "Do you understand now?"
He looked at his hands, folding them in his lap. "I'm sorry," he murmured, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I didn't know I was hurting it."
She threw her arms around his neck. "It's okay," she said, hugging him tight. And then she scooted back, grabbing his wrist. "My mama ties a string around my finger to help me remember things sometimes," she said, and she reached back to pull something out of her hair. It was a long blue ribbon. A mass of sleek black curls fell down around her shoulders, and she giggled. "Here," she said, putting his wrist into her lap. She tied the ribbon around it. "This will help you remember."
He lifted his arm and looked at the big blue bow, frowning.
She giggled. "I like it. It's pretty." Then she grabbed his hand, holding it in both of hers. "I want it to be our friendship bracelet," she announced, looking at him with big eyes. "That means we'll be friends forever. Do you want to be friends forever?" Her eyes flickered between his, eager and gentle.
He nodded quickly. "Yes," he said, breathless.
And he meant it with all his heart.
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Well, we're off to a start! c:
I'd love to hear what you think so far, and what you think should happen next!
I can speak from experience that the more reviews I get, the more ideas I have, and the faster I update! :3
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