Butterfly
By: Neko-chan
A/N: For 'Dia-san. Something that I promised to write for her a LONG, LONG, LONG time ago. But~ Mini Puck didn't want to be written. And therefore, if Mini Puck didn't want to be written, Neko-chan couldn't _write_. And that is all. =^^=
DISCLAIMER: Walt Disney has become a marble head in the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland and DisneyWorld. Somehow I don't think that even if I DID turn myself into a marble head and added myself to the collection I would be able to claim "Gargoyles" as my own. ^^;;
~ * ~
The soft wind wound its way through the island of Avalon, gently making its way through the thick, leafy branches of the trees that dotted the shoreline. It danced through the meadows of the magical isle, rejoicing in the fact that it was free. 'Round and 'round it went, never stopping. Eventually, it came upon a small Fae-child that was hidden deep within the woods and it ran cool hands through the boy's pale hair, kissing his smooth forehead before it once again made its way through the forest surrounding him.
A small monarch butterfly that was held between his hands was overlooked.
...
The poor creature fluttered between his lightly clasped hands, brushing his palms with delicate silk as the butterfly tried to escape. The small child watched its attempts, glacier-blue eyes cold and impassive. Blue eyes that were as distant and as emotionless as the sky that rose above him.
As more and more time passed, the butterfly's movements became even more so frantic, wings frenzied and jerking irregularly. Puck could almost feel its heart beat in its body, pounding, pounding, pounding away as terror slowly overwhelmed it.
That was the funny thing about mortal creatures--No matter how small, how tiny, or even how stupid they were... they could still feel terror. They could still feel fear.
And that made him smile slightly, eyes narrowing in unholy delight
There was a footfall behind him, soft leather boots whispering in the ankle-high grass. The Fae-child ignored the being, pointedly not turning around. The newcomer smiled wryly, his own eyes narrowing at the Fae-child's impudence. He waited a moment longer--but Puck still deigned to ignore the newcomer.
"If you don't release the creature soon, it will die," Oberon said softly, gesturing towards the creature still trapped within the bonds that Puck had placed around it. "It might not even be capable of flight now. You've held it prisoner for too long."
The child shrugged a moonbeam-pale shoulder, back still facing the Faerie king. "All mortal things eventually die," the Fae answered his king. "No matter how long their life span lasts, they still die in the end. Nothing can stop it and... why would they want to? They'd just be fighting against the inevitable."
Oberon was quiet for a long moment, ancient eyes contemplative as he continued to gaze upon Puck's back. "You're killing it," he finally replied, lips pursed thoughtfully. "You're killing the poor creature, Puck."
The shoulder was shrugged again. "It will die now or it will die later. But that doesn't matter, anyway. In the end, it will still die. It doesn't matter if it dies now or later--the end result is still the same. The butterfly will still be dead. The butterfly will still die. And nothing can ever change that."
The Faerie king's pursed lips tightened momentarily and his eyes flashed dangerously. "Why?" was the terse question. "Why do you torment the poor creature so? Why do you sit here, quietly, waiting for the butterfly to die? Why? It has caused you no harm--it has done _nothing_ to you. So then why do you delight so much in its death?"
The head capped with pale, pale hair tilted to one side and Oberon could sense that Puck was considering his question, weighing answers, silently deciding which reply was the best to give to his Lord. Which reply was the safest. Which reply answered Oberon's question in as few words as possible.
Because words were power.
And careless words often came back to haunt the speaker.
Slowly, carefully enunciating and stressing each syllable of each word, Puck began: "I wanted to understand. I wanted to understand why so many mortal creatures go through their lives, living them out, and then die."
A pause. " I wanted to understand _why_. Why bother living if all they can expect at the very end is death? Why bother at all? _Why_? What is so important in life that is worth living for, even facing down death for? Expecting death, waiting for death, terrified of death... I wanted to _understand_ death. And the only way to do that is to see something--someone--die.
"We cannot die, Oberon. We're immortal, destined to live forever and beyond. There are some things that we _can't_ comprehend, but we can still question them and at least _try_ to understand them. Lord... you asked me 'why.' That's what I want to know, as well. _Why_?"
And glacier-cold blue eyes continued to stare down at the butterfly, watching as its movements became more and more feeble. Watching it as its wing beats slowed... and eventually stopped. The butterfly lay limp in his hands, not moving. He couldn't feel its heartbeat.
"Lord Oberon, I wanted to _understand_ 'Why?'"
The king's eyelids lowered slightly, veiling his eyes and the emotions that ran rampant in them. He began to walk away, footsteps cat-quiet as he stepped through the grass. Oberon threw Puck one lingering glance over his shoulder... and then was gone. Echoing on the wind, however, was his very last query: "The butterfly is dead, Puck. Is your question answered?"
A sigh.
The monarch butterfly was slowly lowered and pale hands gently set it down upon the grass-covered earth. The Fae-child stood up and began to walk away from the pathetic little body, throwing his once glance down upon it before he was out of its eyesight. Blue eyes softened for a moment and pale shoulders sagged as if weight had been put upon them.
"...no."
::End::
A/N: *blinks* It's short. *shrugs* But, like I said, Mini Puck didn't want to be written. ^^;; I hope you enjoyed the ficlet anyway, 'Dia-san. *toes it under her bed and slowly walks away, whistling gaily* ... =^^=