The Butterfly Effect

He always saw himself as a guard, a protector; though quite young, he was skilled with a blade and ready to defend those he cared for. He’d always found he had someone to protect—starting with Cadence.

He’d only just finished cleaning up after training when he felt the five-year-old hug him.

“I thought you were supposed to be with Mother,” he pointed out softly.

She stepped away from him, beaming. “I heard you were done! I want to play, Master Veras has been keeping you all to himself and it’s not fair!”

“I’ve still got work to do.”

Then a hearty laugh came from his instructor. “Go on, kid, I’ll be damned if I’m the one to keep you from your sister.”

Thero frowned. “Master Veras—“

“Can learn to deal with it. Make sure it’s alright with your parents and go to the nearby river. Take your sword and, if anyone asks, I sent you out there to train.”

He considered fighting it but soon remembered he shouldn’t; this should be the kind of thing he would jump at the opportunity for, not question so much it never actually happens.

Cadence only seemed to acknowledge the fact that they were going. She cheered, trying her best to pull her much bigger brother along.

…

He sat peaceful, quiet, in the middle of the argument between his parents and Master Veras. There was nothing he could do or say to help the situation, so it was best to not even try.

“What?” His mother was the more vocal of the two. She always had a fighting spirit when it came to the kids. “I’m not going to let you take advantage of our son!”

Master Veras let out a cold laugh. “Are you, now? Tell me, do you have any better ideas? What I see is your debt that’s still far from repaid and an option to pay it off in your lifetime.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you just want to use his talents for your own gain!”

“Now, ma’am, let’s think about this. I don’t believe either of your children possess any other notable qualities. Do you?”

“I wonder who’s damn fault that is! You! You’ve controlled everything about what they did. If they didn’t find something they excelled at, it’s because you won’t let them!”

“Consider: would you rather little Cadence be your age and still paying off your debt to me?”

His mother seemed ready to argue even more, before his father put a calm hand on her shoulder. “Master Veras, I think you can understand a portion of what she’s trying to say. No one who serves this house can say that we trust you. We need some proof that you aren’t the only one that’s going to benefit from this.”

Master Veras smirked and pushed a few papers in front of them. “I had the church approve these the moment I’d heard of the offer. Your son will go to Hyasari and serve as a soldier. He keeps a bit of it, for his own living, and the rest gets split between the two of us. What I gain is counted towards your debt. What you get you can use for whatever you’d like. The church is allowed to get involved if any of us break our end of the deal—and we all know I’m a church-fearing man.”

His father looked over the papers, as the only one of the three with enough knowledge to be able to understand it. “This all sounds fine. We’ll accept.”

“We’re not doing anything,” his mother quickly interjected. She didn’t even bother lowering her voice when she added, “What are you thinking? Do you really think these papers are going to make a difference for that lying son of a—”

“No matter what, we have no choice. We can’t do anything but listen to Master Veras’s orders.”

…

It hadn’t taken long for Cadence to find out. “You’re leaving?”

He’d decided to keep it as brief as possible. “Yes.”

“How long? Are you gonna come back?”

“I don’t know. I’ll probably serve for ten years or so.”

“Then you’ll come back?”

“Then I suppose Master Veras and I will talk about whether I should continue to serve.”

“But you’ll say no, right? Because you want to be with us?”

“I’ll say yes, because it’ll help you.”

“How is leaving going to help me? I don’t want you to go!”

He’d, somehow, managed a small smile and ruffled her hair. “Sometimes, taking care of the people you love means making some sacrifices. If this is what I have to do, then I’ll do it gladly, because it means you, Mother, and Father might be able to live a little more peacefully.”

That was the scene that kept replaying in his head as the wagon carrying him and several other of House Veras’s promising swordsmen traveled through the Andrea Province. He knew there was no returning home.

But he never considered that it would be such a good thing.

…

The queen had overseen their arrival and sent all of them off to some other place within Hyasari—all of them except for Thero.

“I’m sure you’re curious as to why you’re not with the others,” she said with a kind smile. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”

He said nothing. He assumed he had no place to.

She gestured behind him and, after a moment, he turned to look. She was pointing to a young woman who seemed to be patiently solving a dispute between two children.

“That’s my daughter,” the queen explained, “Odelle. She runs around the city a lot, helping the clergy, playing with the kids. We need someone to watch over her—though I promise, she doesn’t usually cause a lot of trouble. Out of everyone Lord Veras offered, we think you’re the best fit.”

The words came out before he could truly process them. “But, if I may ask, Your Majesty, why? I’m certain there are plenty who will be better suited to guard her.”

He’d spoken, somewhat, to those other men. Some of them had been training longer than he’d been alive; some had served briefly as mercenaries, and often successful ones. He may have been considered the young prodigy among them, but there was no denying that they had more valuable experience than him.

The queen didn’t seem to mind; she partially answered it with a question of her own. “You have a sister back home, don’t you?”

Thero nodded.

“Odelle doesn’t need a powerful soldier to follow her around. She needs a companion, a friend—someone to watch over her, and stay by her side no matter what happens. Though this may come off as insensitive, given what you’ve had to leave behind… I hope you’ll eventually be able to call Hyasari home, and think of us as family of sorts.” She motioned for him to follow her inside, where a man was waiting. “Let’s get things off to the right start, shall we? There’s no need for any of that ‘Your Majesty’ talk—just call me Kyra. This is my husband, Ision. What’s your name?”

He knew she already knew but, still, replied, “Thero.”

…

There was always a set of mixed feelings, when he considered the younger Odelle. She was brighter, happier, yet to be dragged down by her husband’s actions or faced with the reality that her dream only barely came true. Yet were they memories of a better time—something worth cherishing—or the reminders that that young Odelle died a long time ago?

Thero always had a clear, defined path mapped in his head of the road that ended in the death of that younger Odelle. The first event was one he was certain remained in the back of all of their minds even decades later.

She was twenty-four, already speaking of her marriage to Nigel which was set to happen nearly as soon as she turned twenty-five. At that point, since they were certain they’d be married, no one cared what they did when they were alone. They’d all only been slightly surprised when she excitedly told them the news—she was going to have a child.

It was about three months later that they were all gathered in the dining room. Kyra, Ision, and Odelle took their seats as the queen, king, and princess; Kadol sat beside his father, who still held the position of advisor; Nigel, though he’d come late, now sat next to Odelle; Thero dutifully stood by the door. He’d been here five years, and considered himself close to the royal family, yet still couldn’t bring himself to truly be a part of their dinner. He never could—if anyone asked, he simply told them he wanted to be prepared for anything, and he couldn’t do that if he sat with them.

The dinner had been quiet for a long time, though he wouldn’t call it tense. Eventually, Ision—without looking up from his plate—asked, “Has any of you heard of what happened to that young pastor?”

“You’ll need to be more specific, dear, there’s been a lot of them recently,” Kyra said with just as much interest.

“The boy,” he tried, “the one who barely looked twenty-five. He had that terrible stutter, mentioned after service he was from the Pasha area.”

Nigel took a sip of wine and remarked, “I heard that he left because the clergy found out he’d slept with another woman.”

“We don’t spread rumors,” Kyra warned.

He shrugged. “Or, perhaps, you just don’t want to believe that such a sin could be committed by one of Orestis’s appointed ‘teachers.’”

Ision cleared his throat and, a moment later, glanced at Odelle. “You had that… thing, with the nuns, and the baby. How’d that go?”

She shrunk, eyes only looking at her plate, and tried to force a laugh that only sounded like a choked sob. “Funny you mention that… you’re not going to be grandparents for a little while longer. They said I… lost the baby.”

For the longest time, no one said a word.

Then, Nigel drank the rest of his wine. As he sat the glass back on the table, he asked, “Do they think it could happen again?” Only by a stretch of imagination could concern be found in his tone—or, at least, that’s how Thero had always remembered it.

“They said it probably doesn’t mean anything,” she mumbled. “It’s just something that happens sometimes. It wasn’t anything to be really worried about.”

“If they say it’s nothing to worry about, then don’t worry about it. It’s just a one time thing.”

…

Were they to be asked, everyone would’ve lied and said they didn’t think of that night when Odelle announced again that she was pregnant. If any of them had uncertain thoughts, no one voiced them. It was obvious, though, that there was something, because nearly as suddenly as she told them, she excused herself to do other things. She had a lot to prepare for in the months ahead—with her twenty-fifth birthday came her wedding and ascension to the throne.

Thero hadn’t paid attention to the exact number of months between the announcement and that night. All he remembered was that, about a week before their wedding, he awoke to the sound of the church bells and the frantic footsteps of servants.

He’d assumed something bad had happened, but as soon as he reached for his sword, a servant came in and assured him everything was fine. He picked up the context as she ushered him towards the church, where it seemed the whole city was flocked.

It was impossible to tell exactly how long they all gathered there, only half-listening to the priest’s rambling about Thales. There was whispering all around them, the closest to rumors they’d dare spread, falling silent again whenever a nun rushed in or out.

Then the priest stopped rattling on and everyone went still when a particular nun walked in and gave the announcement: Odelle was fine, but tonight, they mourned the loss of a child.

Odelle, years later when the truth of the matter could no longer be avoided, had told Kadol and Thero that it had been the first time Nigel hit her. And it had been far from the last.

…

Ision and Kyra were discussing if they wanted to leave Hyasari, since Odelle was queen; Kadol and Nigel were glaring at each other from across the table for some earlier dispute Thero decided he didn’t want to know; Thero himself was by the door, since Odelle had asked him to go on without her.

When she finally arrived, she seemed both relieved and disappointed that everyone was there. She slowly told them all what had happened, and once again, they fell into the same silence they did that first night.

Nigel scoffed, finally breaking eye contact with Kadol to gulp down the rest of his wine and motion for a servant to get him more.

Kyra was the first to actually say something. “I’ll contact my cousin. I believe her son’s around your age and is happily married with a healthy baby girl. She was close to Ilena, I think she’ll be overjoyed to have the opportunity of her granddaughter one day becoming queen…”

“Give me one more chance,” Odelle tried quickly. “Just—just one more time. If it doesn’t work out again, then it has to be a part of Orestis’s plan, and I’ll accept that. But let’s see how it goes one last time.”

…

They all seemed to hold their breath, letting out a sigh at every milestone reached, then nervously waiting for the next one. Thero, honestly, had only cared that Odelle was alright—he’d considered the whole thing too much of a risk that they shouldn’t be taking. But the eighth month came quickly, where nearly everyone was assured that, were the baby to be born tomorrow, they would live.

Then the time came again when the whole of Hyasari was gathered at the church, listening to the priest calling on Thales. And, this time, when that same nun walked in, she had an announcement that sent the whole congregation erupted into praises.

Odelle and her newborns were all safe and healthy. She’d given birth to twins.

The months after had their ups and downs, but, really, for the first time since that first night, they all allowed themselves to have a bit of hope. Even on the few times that might’ve warranted concern, no one dared to say their thoughts out loud. To say them seemed to be like trying to taunt Darkness.

Thero heard a lot of talk—through the door to the nursery, over dinner, in the streets—of the twins, but it took several months before Odelle had properly introduced them.

“That’s Dimas,” she explained, softly, as she guided him to the cribs. She carefully lifted the other baby up. “This is Zofie.” She turned to him and offered for him to hold the little girl.

He tried to push down any uncertainty as he accepted the offer. He hadn’t held a child this young since Cadence was born. The baby’s eyes fluttered open but, at the sight of him, she smiled and closed her eyes again.

“I want you to look after her,” Odelle continued. “I have a feeling that the future isn’t going to be easy and I want to make sure she has someone reliable looking out for her. You’re the best person I can think of that can keep her safe.”