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20. Sing Me a Lullaby

20

Sing me a Lullaby

The keys of the piano played and echoed around the villa. Light with the melody and texture Sileas knows. She was raised by those hands that danced on the keys. She closed her eyes, imagined dancers swaing and following the tune till she heard it pause. A long pause in the middle of a piece, her mother rarely does unless forced.

She opened her eyes, just to see her father leaning towards her mother’s ear. She blushed, and he smirked. She wanted to express her disgust, audibly. What she usually does, but she just watched. Her parents’ small bubble. A love that she could see. When was the last time she saw that?

Then they saw her staring. Her mother raised her brows, and her Father was mortified until they noticed. Her mother closed the keys, her face drawn, and she’s walking towards her.

“Why?” Her mother’s soft voice whispered, gently as if talking to a skittish animal. “Why is my little bird so sad?”

“Why the tears?” Her Father adds. Kneeling in front of her, his hand on her cheek. Warm and large. She always believed that he could take the whole world in his hands and close it, he used to promise the moon in one palm. “Why is my little duck sad enough to cry?”

Sileas didn’t feel the tears, but she felt her family. She has been starved for so long, but she hasn’t left. She’s always been here at home. Why would she be starved? Yet her hands clutched at one arm to keep his father’s hand in place. On her cheek, and she cried harder.

“My little bird, please, tell us.” Her mother sat beside her. Arms wrapped around her waist and kept her close. “Your tears… we’re here. we’ll never leave you.”

She sobbed harder. Her heart breaking. Her chest ached. She missed them even when they’re right there with her. She must be losing her mind.

Ragna took her knitting with her outside the wing. Amara, her sister-in-law, told her that it would help with the burned hand. Her dexterity would prevent her muscles from hardening, but with no promise it would be the same again, not that she expected it. the people thought of her close to God, to Aegir. But she is the furthest now. Back when she was young, perhaps. Although, even in her youth she didn’t know how to truly control her powers.

People thought she couldn’t be burned. Half of her loyal followers then, dropped just when she first emerged burned. A bad omen that they took to heart. Before they know it, tongues wagged. The prophecy somehow leaked. Arius insisted he didn’t, but with how he treats their son, she doesn’t know. She’s the only one protecting her son, Lotir protects everyone but him, and Arius doesn’t try at all. He lets him do what he wants, as long as he’s far from the family. Far from her.

Her mind is riddled with the conflicting feelings, but she pulled her thoughts to her hands instead. Paying attention to every loop and change of her needle. This was meant to be a scarf, but she lost track and it became too wide and long to be one, so now it’s a towel. A large towel.

“M…mff”

The sound captured her attention. Sileas was dripping with sweat, and she thrashed. “No…pl-please.”

Instinctively, she moved to touch the child. Her hard and burned muscle struck her down, but she grit her teeth and leaned on the bed. The pain ebbed a minute later. A minute of Sileas murmuring and thrashing.

“No…Please” she cried. The tears dropped like rainfall. She had a death grip on the duvet. She could have teared it with her blunt nails, but didn’t pull it apart. “Sta…”

Once the pain was manageable, she touched the girl’s cheeks and just like his son, she started humming. The song the nomads sang to her when she was young. A lullaby she knows so well, her parents used it too.

*Hello, hello

The fires are aglow

The night is cold

But warm waters flow.

Hello, hello*

She warmed her hands to ease the coldness of her skin. Ragna have never felt skin so cold with a fever so high. Lotir wasn’t a sickly child, but she had colds from time to time, while Eitr was always sick. Always hot to the touch. Draconi could still be burned, just have a higher threshold, but Eitr burned people without even trying. Anyone and everyone.

*I will stay with you

Goodbye, goodbye

Would never come

Would always be here for you*

Her thrashing eased, but the uptrubed expression on her face still looked as if she was suffering. Still loss in the oblivion of her fever dream. Ragna watched with worry. With affection. The first time she saw this girl. Broken and lost. Living in a mask her own grandparents did to her. Trained her. Then dumped her in the academy, while her brother, Ragor, lived as the heir. Her trade to survive and protect him after their parents died.

Never in a million years would she have thought that a mirror of her would be fighting for her life in front of her. Her loveable and sweet sun, but he was a fool. All men are fools. He doesn’t see it.

“Sweet, sweet girl” She softly brushed the hair away from her face. Not sure if Sileas wanted to be touched, and she wanted to respect that as much as she can. A doll. That was the first impression she ever had of her. Walking down the aisle with that smile on her face, a smile so practiced and forced, it was flawless.

A mirror of her former self. Ragna felt as if she was struck by lightning. A ghost of herself staring back at her, and marrying her son. Forced to marry her son. “I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I don’t… know how I can atone for what I have done to you.”

Sileas doesn’t answer. Too deep in the delirium of her sleep. But she smiled. Not at all her usual smile.

“How sweet are your dreams now?” Ragna bit her lip. Her knitting forgotten on the floor as she watched Sileas sleep. This is her atonement. All her attention were fixed on to the ailing girl. Singing her the lullaby her own mother sang to her that they got from their travels.

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