Deleted Scene: Lullaby

900 words, 3 minute read.

I finished singing with a note of satisfaction, the words still hanging in the air above me. The great brass bell of the Children’s Wing tower hummed, and then I heard the footsteps on the colored tile.

“It appears you’ve mastered the acoustics of this place,” Aeronwy said, appearing from the shadowed hallway.

It was extremely early in the morning, the sky outside just beginning to lighten with the dawn. I’d spent the night making paper for Opal’s memoir, afraid due to a barrage of nightmares that week. If I couldn’t go to sleep, they couldn’t get to me, so I just didn’t.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, feeling sheepish when I realized the obvious answer.

“Work,” we both said at the same time, and laughed.

“Best to get the cleaning done without anyone around,” Aeronwy said. “Especially when it involves painting. I have to give the mural a touch-up in here before the Prime Minister’s visit next phase day. What were you singing about?”

The song was in Fenian, an old weaver’s tune that had been in the family for generations. Sometimes I missed the language of my heritage, some sounds of which didn’t exist in Casporan. My Fenian family made fun of my pronunciation and said I had a slight accent, but here no one could hear the difference.

“It’s about a lover who moved far away, and the singer traveling the land and sea in search of them,” I said. “A lot of traditional Fenian folk songs are sad. Our ancestors had a hard time of things before certain innovations in medicine and travel and agriculture and—well, you know, it still resonates today, in spite of those changes.”

“Traditional Casporan music can be like that, too,” Aeronwy agrees. “Death figures large in many of the songs. Murder, even. There are many traveling and searching songs in Cináedite traditions especially, with how half of us were driven away from the coast by the theocratic government.”

I yawned and sat down on the curved bench beside the wall. Aeronwy pulled a cart full of paint and tarps I hadn’t noticed before from the hall and set it beside the bench before taking a seat. E handed me a thermos, which in my sleep-deprived state I drank from without realizing it would be bitter black coffee the temperature of molten lava.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to burn your silver tongue,” Aeronwy said, taking it back while I fanned my mouth. “It’d be a shame to keep you from singing for even a few hours.”

“Oh come on,” I said, flustered by the compliment. “I’m all right. Or I will be in a few minutes. Why don’t you sing me something? One of those traditional songs you mentioned? Do you know many?”

“I know enough to fill, I think, an entire row of bookshelves,” Aeronwy said. “What sort of thing would you like to hear?”

“Your favorite,” I said, and yawned again.

Aeronwy stood up and wandered to the spot I’d been standing in while singing, which indeed did have the best acoustic resonance in the room.

“[LYRICS]”

I wasn’t expecting something so slow and sweet. Leaning against the cool stone wall, I closed my eyes to listen better. Take in the fullness of the sound as it reverberated through the tower, through my bones, filling my heart in the way spoken or written word just can’t do. The first stories were songs, the Casporan world origin stories say. With songs, we shaped the world into what it is today.

“[LYRICS]”

Slumber stole over me, a drowsiness I could no longer fight. By the time Aeronwy finished singing, I teetered on the fine edge between sleep and wakefulness. I heard eir footsteps echoing, and felt the warm hand on my shoulder, but my body was like lead and my mind full of strange images, influenced by the song.

“You stayed up all night again,” Aeronwy said.

I tried to rouse myself, unsuccessfully. “’M fine.”

“Hmm,” said Aeronwy.

I wanted to sit up and rub my eyes, but I was just too tired. I lifted a hand and then let it flop back down on my lap.

“Just tired,” I mumbled.

“You should go lay down,” Aeronwy replied. “Though it doesn’t look like you can stand right now.”

“Your fault, that was basically a lullaby,” I said. I sighed and flopped sideways on the bench, which was also made of stone. Ouch. “I’ll… I’ll just sleep right here.”

“Or I could carry you to the infirmary, where they have beds.”

I managed to crack one eye open to look up at em. “You couldn’t. It’s too far. I’m too heavy.”

“Not so. Should I prove it to you?”

Before I could protest, I was scooped up into the air. I threw my arms around Aeronwy’s neck and clung tightly, but eir grip was firm and strong. There wasn’t any real danger of being dropped.

“You see?” e said, grinning. “Do you still want to sleep on the hard bench? Or should I take you down the hall?”

“I’m already up here, so we might as well,” I said.

I fell asleep before we’d even reached the end of the hallway. And for the first time that week, my dreams were filled with [SONG RELATED THING] instead of tremors and darkness and fear.