Post by devilinthedetails on Jan 11, 2019 9:42:44 GMT 10
Title: Lullaby
Summary: Thayet sings Roald a K'miri lullaby in honor of her mother.
Rating: PG-13 for reference to suicide.
Lullaby
“I was singing Roald an old K’miri lullaby my mother used to sing to me,” said Thayet as Jon entered their bedchamber to find his wife, who appeared both defiant and guilty, cradling their son against her breast.
“That’s good.” Jon sat beside her on the bed, leaning over to lightly brush a kiss across her long, dark hair in reassurance that he wasn’t her father—he wouldn’t demand his wife or child deny part of their heritage. He would honor her and her culture always. “You have a beautiful singing voice I don’t hear often enough, and I support you sharing your K’miri heritage with Roald”—he tapped Roald’s tiny, wrinkling nose and then laid his hand over Thayet’s belly, which was swollen with another pregnancy—“and any future babies we have together.”
“My mother had a much more beautiful singing voice than I ever will.” Thayet’s tone was barely above a whisper as it always was when she spoke of her feared inferiorities—her lunatic ideas that she wasn’t beautiful because of her nose or some other notion her foul father had planted in her head. “She sang the world the most hauntingly beautiful son it ever heard before she jumped from a tower, and the next day, it was as if the world had forgotten she ever sang. It was horrible.”
“The world didn’t forget she ever sang.” Jon swallowed to clear his tightening throat as his heart broke for his wife. Their marriage—their love—was still new enough that like a spring blossom hiding from frost she was hesitant to open up to him, to reveal her sorrows when he might hurt her as her father had her mother. Determined to prove he was different from her father, he draped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close as he murmured in her ear, “You haven’t forgotten her song, and you’ll ensure it lives on forever in our children. Her song will not die and will never be forgotten.”
Summary: Thayet sings Roald a K'miri lullaby in honor of her mother.
Rating: PG-13 for reference to suicide.
Lullaby
“I was singing Roald an old K’miri lullaby my mother used to sing to me,” said Thayet as Jon entered their bedchamber to find his wife, who appeared both defiant and guilty, cradling their son against her breast.
“That’s good.” Jon sat beside her on the bed, leaning over to lightly brush a kiss across her long, dark hair in reassurance that he wasn’t her father—he wouldn’t demand his wife or child deny part of their heritage. He would honor her and her culture always. “You have a beautiful singing voice I don’t hear often enough, and I support you sharing your K’miri heritage with Roald”—he tapped Roald’s tiny, wrinkling nose and then laid his hand over Thayet’s belly, which was swollen with another pregnancy—“and any future babies we have together.”
“My mother had a much more beautiful singing voice than I ever will.” Thayet’s tone was barely above a whisper as it always was when she spoke of her feared inferiorities—her lunatic ideas that she wasn’t beautiful because of her nose or some other notion her foul father had planted in her head. “She sang the world the most hauntingly beautiful son it ever heard before she jumped from a tower, and the next day, it was as if the world had forgotten she ever sang. It was horrible.”
“The world didn’t forget she ever sang.” Jon swallowed to clear his tightening throat as his heart broke for his wife. Their marriage—their love—was still new enough that like a spring blossom hiding from frost she was hesitant to open up to him, to reveal her sorrows when he might hurt her as her father had her mother. Determined to prove he was different from her father, he draped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close as he murmured in her ear, “You haven’t forgotten her song, and you’ll ensure it lives on forever in our children. Her song will not die and will never be forgotten.”