Lullaby
Summary: Wisteria sings Isa a lullaby.
Thunder rumbled lowly outside and rain drummed steadily against the window pane as lightning danced among the darkened clouds. Inside, Isabel laid in her bed fighting off sleep. Quite the hard feat when Wisteria was playing her flute as sweetly as she was. Isabel's tawny eyes drifted over to the window, where the teenager was seated on a makeshift window seat, seemingly oblivious to the child-to the world-as she played her song.
Isabel felt herself smile a little as she watched the older girl. She felt the palace had become a livelier place since Wisteria's arrival, definitely more interesting, there was just something about Wisteria that Isabel found enchanting. She didn't understand it, but she didn't question it either. Having Wisteria around was like having a second older sister. Isabel frowned with a sudden realization, eyes moving past the flutist to gaze out the window. She bit her lip anxiously.
Elena…
The princess's older sister had gone to Cordova the previous day and was expected to be back earlier this evening, but the sudden storm had forced her to stay at the Cordovan port until the storm passed. The news had been crushing for the child, who had been pacing the deck at the port for nearly the entire afternoon. Even after the heavy down pour had soaked through her clothes and the chill of wind had seeped through her skin and into her bones, she had remained, watchful eyes scanning the waters for any sign of the royal vessel.
It had been Wisteria who had brought her back to the castle.
Wisteria had been out on a ride when the storm hit, Isabel still wasn't sure how the teenager had seen her through the wind and rain, but was grateful now that she had. Though she had done little to show it when Wisteria had to carry her back to her horse writhing and hissing her indignation. By the time that Wisteria had gotten them back to the palace Isabel had shifted from fussing to sulking. Remaining stubbornly quiet as the girl wrung out her hair, dried her off and helped her into a fresh change of clothes. Then she was being put to bed, a hot mug of herbal tea being pushed into her still chilled hands. Isabel wasn't familiar with such a beverage, but Wisteria had assured her it was good and would help keep sickness away.
Now, tea gone, and warm once more, Wisteria was trying to lull her to sleep with a flute song. But the princess still refused to sleep, how could she when her sister was out there, somewhere, and not at home with her? What if the storm never let up? What if something else happened to prevent her sister's passage? What if Elena never came back? Tears welled in her eyes and she sniffled discretely.
The flute stopped playing.
"Isabel," Wisteria asked, "are you crying?"
"No," Isabel responded quickly, too quickly. "I'm fine." Just as quickly, the princess peered up at the teenager, immediately catching her honey colored eyes, and looking back down. There was a soft creaking as Wisteria rose from her perch and made her way over to Isabel's bed side. Using one hand for balance, Wisteria leaned carefully over the bed, using her free hand to tug the blankets down to see Isabel's expression. She was pleased to note the princess's cheeks were dry, but her eyes were overly bright with unshed tears. Beyond that though, the girl was obviously anxious, and Wisteria had an idea why.
"Isabel," Wisteria said gently, "she's alright. The storm will pass before dawn and she'll be home by the afternoon." Thunder crashed loudly outside, rattling the window pane, and both girls turned sharply to eye the raging tempest. "Are you sure about that?" Isabel deadpanned threatening to raise a humored grin from the redhead. "Positive," Wisteria assured, "I know it looks bad, but trust me when I tell you it will pass." Isabel nodded in reluctant agreement, but continued her observation of the storm.
"We've haven't been apart this long since Shuriki's reign," Isabel admitted in a soft and wobbly tone. Wisteria glanced down at the child with some worry that only amplified when the princess met her gaze with watery eyes. "What if she doesn't come back?"
"Oh, Isa," Wisteria placed her free hand on her hip as she thought. "You know," she began, "when I was a young lass my mother had to go away sometimes."
"Really? Why?"
"Business," Wisteria shrugged, "she was a crafter, and sometimes she had to sail to the mainland to sell and trade her goods. I missed her terribly when she was away." Isabel's eyes lowered, so Wisteria did get it. "How'd you get through it?" the princess asked and the teenager smiled a soft, fond smile. "She taught me a lullaby," she said, "one that I could sing whenever I got to missin' her too much. Would you like me to teach it to you?"
Isabel wasn't sure how a song could possibly ease her worry, but nodded anyway. Wisteria eased herself onto the bed and Isabel scooted closer to her to listen.
"I see the moon,
the moon sees me.
Shining through the leaves of the old oak tree.
Oh, let the light that shines on me,
Shine on the one I love."
Over the mountain, over the sea,
back where my heart is longing to be.
Oh, let the light that shines on me,
Shine on the one I love.
Wisteria wasn't sure how well she was doing, she'd never thought herself much of a singer, but Isabel wasn't complaining as her head slumped tiredly against the pillow. The fight to keep her eyes open was quickly being lost.
"I hear the lark, the lark hears me,
Singing from the leaves of the old oak tree.
Oh, let the lark that sings to me,
Sing to the one I love.
Over the mountain, over the sea,
Back where my heart is longing to be.
Oh, let the lark that sings to me,
Sing to the one I love."
Wisteria looked down as she carried out the last note to find the child long lost in sleep and smiled. It was about time the child got some rest. Careful not to wake her, Wisteria eased herself out of the princess's bed. She collected Isabel's empty mug off the table and left the room with one last smile over her shoulder.
She made her way down a few flights of stairs to the kitchen and set about cleaning the mug. No need to put it off on someone else in the morning. When that was done and she dried her hands, Wisteria peered out the tiny kitchen window to see that the storm had passed. The storm clouds were rapidly rolling away, revealing a glowing half-moon. Wisteria smiled, heart and mind drifting to the tiny island she called home, and to her mother, probably still wide awake finishing her latest project.
"I see the moon," she whispered quietly and imagined her mother's equally soft voice whispering back to her.
"The moon sees me…"