AglaisIo

Aglias io - The Peacock Butterfly Tajuria cippus - Royal Peacock _ _ _ _ It wasn’t his most exciting specimen, the Fae decided, lifting the caterpillar to the light. It was a bland little creature, lacking the bright colors or odd shapes of the other insects he’d brought back from the Shrieking Wilds, and for a moment, he considered eating it. It looked harmless enough, but the Fae blinked his pink eyes and placed it carefully back into the jar. If he wanted to make a scientific contribution to the Starfall Isles, he’d need all the specimens he could get.

The Fae ignored the insistent rapping of the meteor shower against his window and selected an energetic blue beetle for his first trial. He placed it on a glass plate, brushed on a few drops of energy-imbued mercury, and waited with his clipboard ready.

The beetle made as if to clean itself off and then paused. To the Fae’s delight it blushed a delicate shade of green that spread down its carapace. The color didn’t last long, though. The green melted back into blue and the beetle began humming something that sounded eerily similar to a lullaby.

A poor result, but not unexpected. The Fae scribbled the results down on his clipboard and decided to adjust the energy level of the mercury hoping for a better outcome. There was none. The sow bug he had selected next flashed pink for a brief moment before it curled into a ball and refused to open. After a few attempts that had no results whatsoever, the Fae managed to turn a pair of stick insects blue for a full four minutes before they began erratically tap dancing over the table.

The Fae sighed and recorded the results of a long, fruitless day and began placing the specimens back into their containers, promising them greatness - that if he managed to permanently dye living tissue without harm, they’d be immortalized in the form of logs and statistics alongside his name in textbooks.

He paused when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Somehow, the bland little caterpillar had managed to wriggle out of its enclosure and was inching along the shelf towards a potted plant perched on the windowsill.

The Fae plucked it up. Perhaps there was time for one more test. He ignored its frantic wiggling as he placed it on the glass plate and carefully dripped a few drops of the silvery liquid onto the caterpillar’s head. The caterpillar flinched as a deep shade of purple flushed down its back and wrapped around its plump little body until it was complete covered. The Fae waited. The caterpillar began poking its head around the glass plate, searching for a new leaf.

The Fae extended a claw and gave it a tentative poke, but the color remained, deep and vivid, across the caterpillar’s leathery skin.

The Fae perked up. The success was statistically insignificant, but perhaps it was the beginning of something great.

Greatness, it seemed, was frustratingly elusive. By noon the next day, his statistically insignificant caterpillar was more insignificant than ever. The same solution of mercury refused to produce quantifiable results.

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Instead, it caused another caterpillar to twist itself into concentric rings instead of turning color. A number of grasshoppers escaped, scattering through the laboratory like fall leaves, and they weren’t the only escape artists. His little success caterpillar kept squeezing out of its enclosure every time he turned his back on it.

He caught it just as it reached the plant by his meteor-cracked window, snatching it away before it could start eating the fleshy leaves. The Fae sighed and placed the purple caterpillar back in its enclosure, putting a book over the top so it wouldn’t escape again.

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With a sigh, the Fae turned back to the earthworm awaiting experimentation on the glass plate. It had more absorbent skin and he hoped that just might hold the color. It did not. The worm stretched its blind head towards the edge of the plate and waved about as if searching for fresh dirt. The Fae sighed again and placed the worm back in its terrarium catching sight of something purple near the window.

He turned just in time to see the caterpillar, free yet again, open its mouth to take a bite, wobble, and fall strait into a bag of fertilizer just below. It was the same fertilizer that was rejected by the scientific community for having “unpredictable results.”

The Fae rushed over to pull it from the nitrogen rich powder only for it to begin swelling in his claws. He promptly dropped it, and it continued to wriggle unaccountably as each segment stretched and grew. Before long, it was nearly as long as the Fae’s forearm.

The growth finally slowed, though, and it the caterpillar suddenly realized it was now long enough to comfortably reach the potted plant.

The Fae sighed. “I’m going to create something wonderful someday.” He told it. “But you’re not helping.” The caterpillar looked at him with large, wet eyes and continued eating the leaf.

The Fae scrutinized his new concoction. Perhaps mercury wasn’t the right medium. Liquid gallium could make a better carrier for the infused energy.

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He decided to ask the caterpillar, who he had dubbed Aglias. It had taken up the habit of wrapping around his neck as he puttered around the laboratory. Unsurprisingly, Aglias kept eating its ivy and didn’t pay the question any mind. _ The caterpillar was still growing, but not exponentially, and the Fae had discovered that the it made a wonderfully captive audience, and he found himself spilling out his story. He told it how he was going to create something that no one had ever seen before - how his professors at the university would tell him that he was wrong. When he finally reached his potential as a scientist, he would be immortalized in text books. As long as Aglias had a leaf to munch on, he never argued.

The Fae reached for a catalog past the empty pot where the plant used to be - having long since been devoured by the hungry Aglias - when he heard a loud smash. Aglias flinched and the Fae flapped backward as a meteor smashed straight through the laboratory window, scattering glass across the floor. The Fae scowled at it. He should have invested in doubled-paned windows sooner. Pebbles from the meteor shower sprayed in, and the Fae snatched a larger meteor up into his claws, looking for anomalies. It seemed typical to the meteors that so often showered the Starfall Isles. It steaming with energy that floated off in delicate pink strands that curled towards the ceiling.

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To the Fae’s surprise, Aglias stiffened, staring at the rock in the way he stared at his food. Stretched out its body, it placed its plump little legs around the rock and made as if to devour it. “Now now.” The Fae said, plucking the rock away. “I need to clean up this glass, now.” But, Aglias followed the stone with his body. When the Fae turned from stretching a thick tarp over the broken window, he found Aglias wrapped around the stone, making a humming noise that almost sounded like a lullaby.

The Fae found he had even less success with gallium than he had with mercury. Each insect would flash a vibrant color before it was suddenly overcome with hiccups. Who knew insects could get the hiccups?

Aglias, however, had grown considerably, and though it grew too heavy to fit around the Fae’s neck, it seemed more attentive than ever. It seemed too be bobbing its head at all the right moments and the Fae had grown even chattier, showing off his crumpled research notes that could never stay in order.

But then, for a few days, Aglias had seemed distracted, inching around the room, past the newly installed window and the meteor that sat steaming on the Fae’s desk. It even refused its favorite ivy leaves. The Fae was beginning to worry.

Within the week, he found Aglias hanging on the laboratory ceiling. Although he asked it to come down, the caterpillar only responded by pulling a length of silk from itself and twisting it around its body.

With a pang, the Fae realized that he hadn’t even bothered to discover what species of caterpillar he’d acquired. It distressed him to think that the butterfly that would emerge might not even recognize him. He’d gotten used to the caterpillar’s company, and he’d assumed that it would be there when he finally created something great.

When Aglias had finished, the Fae detached it from his ceiling. He drew his claw along the delicate purple veins that spiraled around the cocoon. All that time, he’d been hosting an artist.

The time that followed seemed so quiet. Despite knowing that when the butterfly emerged it would likely not remember him, he still was anxious for it to emerge. It would be a big butterfly, of course, but what kind? Would it join the migration that swept through the isles every year, or would it die a day after finding a mate?

When at last the cocoon began to split, it seemed like more of a struggle than it should have been. The cocoon rocked violently on the desk and clattered to the floor. The Fae rushed to see if it was damaged, but it continued rocking, slowly splitting at the seam that spiraled down the side.

There was something dark and wet inside. He’d expected to see long, spindly legs emerging from the cocoon, but instead, something was scraping its way out with muscle and claw. And, as the cocoon cracked open, he caught sight of teeth!

“Aglais.” the Fae whispered tentatively, looking down at the leathery hatchling.

It looked up at him as it stretched its brilliant wings for the first time.
“Father!”
Lore by Alew