The Fool and His Star

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In the span of ten years, there's one thing Saval had learned about kids; they hold grudges the same way they hold their favourite cookies. Desperately hard.

You are unable to attend their birthday? They will sulk, cry, and annoy you until you drop to your knees and apologise profusely ten times. Did you break a pinky promise? No hope for you dear-decreed to suffer the endless torture of the deepest corner of hells, the silent treatment. You better bring knee pads, their favourites, a thesis long essay that you are wrong and atleast fifty gifts.

No one breaks the pinky promise. Absolutely. No. One.

So, when Saval returned to their small hut after that day, he made sure to bring some food from the palace.

That elevates the silent treatment to the
kicked-puppy face and stilted conversations.

And really, he gets it.

He knows that Irion doesn't really deal well with being shouted at. He freezes. He flinches. Young as he is, he experienced the drunken wrath; throwing, screaming.

He knows why he wants to help so eagerly-he's been there, and he gets it.

"Being an adult isn't fun, y'know. I wanted you to fully experience your childhood." Saval murmurs. "I wanted to go to school when I was your age. I couldn't, though, 'cause... well."

"I'll continue school," says Irion, pouting. "But, on weekdays or in my free time, I'll still work. I want to earn."

Saval replies, softly. "Okay. But, if you get tired or if your grades lower, you stop." He purses his lips into a thin, stern line. "I want you to have fun. I don't want you to one day, look at everything and think of everything you haven't experienced and feel like an absolute waste of a being."

The dawn is quiet. Irion nods even though he doesn't understand.

-

Mom is a thief because she says she had no choice but to be. She teaches Saval how to pick locks and how to be silent like a feather. She tells him about the mythologies and constellations; Orion, Taurus and Leo.

She says that the stars are the eyes of the gods. Saval remembers the time he said out loud that he wanted to eat stars and hoped that the gods did not take offence.

She tells him to be creative, always be resourceful and teaches him how to sew and cook.

One day, she steals something she couldn't. So, she lost her hands for being a thief, her child for being a woman and hanged for being both. Her brother didn't even bother to come when they dig a hole and stuffed her corpse there.

Meanwhile, her lover, Saval's biological father, is a married man. A product of a drunken affair. And so, when he steps on his father's doorstep and tries to piece out a family from the broken puzzles, his father pushes him away.

Affairs are tailed by rumours and side-eyes after all. Not to mention, an added mouth to feed; another child to clothe and take care of.

His grandfather takes care of him for some months, but then he too gets caught-beheaded.

No honour, they say.

A traitor. Helped those heathens-those witches.

And Saval doesn't understand.

He learns what's it like to lose something that wasn't his in the first place. He's a mistake and unwanted.

He gets that already. He lays down in the slums alone for the first time, in a jagged floor and thinks of the time he was loved. "Dear sky," he inquires silently like a prayer as he stares at the watchful gaze of the night sky. "If I die would I be remembered?"

But because the sky is a sky, and the stars are the stars, they cannot speak. It twinkles though, and he takes it as a reply. "Yeah. You're right, I wouldn't be," he continues, agreeing to no one in particular. "Hey, gods... say if I die, would you allow me to eat your eyes? You have a lot anyways. I've wanted to taste stars ever since I'm-"

Saval stops when he hears a wail echoing from somewhere. He has half the mind to just ignore it and sleep, but it cries even louder, much to his annoyance.

"I fucking hate kids," grumbles the kid as he sits up with a sigh and stands to inspect.

He expects some spoiled brat or perhaps an uncaring parent.

But sometimes, the shadows want to hold a mirror and laugh at his face, and instead, it's a wooden cradle, a toddler and a letter. The child was starved, and thin. Abandoned and unwanted. He's still crying.

Saval pats the toddler's head.

He continues to cry.

"Okay, okay.. um-uh, what do babies like? They like to be carried right? Mom?" He asks in the panic, stops, blinks then carefully carries the toddler. He does a little dance and makes faces he sees some parents make to their baby. He does the thing he wishes he had gotten and hopes it's enough.

The kid stops-laughs, then, he pulls Saval's ear.

Saval grits his teeth, pulls away and takes the letter. He tears open the letter with his teeth. Mhavryck.

He squints and almost snorts. He assumes this is the supposed name of the kid. "What's with the unnecessary 'h' and 'y'?" He wrinkles his nose. "No wonder you kept crying, little guy. You have such a terrible name." He looks at him again. "Damn, you look ugly. Compared to me."

The little boy frowns.

"You have cool eyes though. Sky blue. I wish mines are like that. Hmm. You look kinda adorable."

And Saval knows he shouldn't. He couldn't. There's absolutely no way he could. The night is cold and the stars twinkle as if they want to speak.

"But, it's not enough. You don't pass the standard okay?" He wiggles a finger. "Don't cry when I leave. I need to sleep."

The toddler suddenly giggles, eyes crinkling.

"Stop. Why are you laughing?"

As if making fun of him, it laughs louder.

There's something about it that makes him break.

"Stop it. Stop." He slinks down to a dingy, dusty wall, carefully cradles the kid and finally cries like one.

"Gods. Oh, gods. What do I do?" And it isn't just about the kid. He knows that. He has seen too much not to know that. "I can't do this-god, what do I do?" His shoulder heaves up and down, and he hugs the baby, sobs spilling into broken words. "I'm being a fool. I can't. But, I will, okay? I won't let you die. I won't let you feel alone. I won't. I won't ever let you-"

His hands shake, his voice quivers and it breaks so he stops, breathes and resumes "We'll do this, okay? We're gonna do this. Because if I won't, it'll continue." Bloodshot eyes stare into the dawning skies and a small spark springs. "I'll name you Irion. I think gods won't like it if I steal their eyes' name, y'know."

Irion just looks confused and perhaps even concerned. It's hilarious and Saval felt like laughing. So he cries. And laughs too.

A deserter with no honour. Dead.

A thief caught red-handed. Dead.

A cheating scumbag who can't handle responsibilities.

A drunkard uncle who doesn't care.

And him.

"It'll end with you, okay?" he whispers to the chilling air. He's still freezing but there's warmth now, in the edges of his fingertips. It's small but it's there. "It'll end with me and you. I'll make sure of it."

And so, the boy carries Irion, gathers the remaining of his Mom's money, steels his face, raises his shoulders and disappears in the embrace of the twilight to search for his last remaining relative.

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