She had never heard this song before.

Music accompanied Rinoa wherever she went—from children melodies to orchestral symphonies—thanks to her mother. Every time Julia retired to the parlor, she sat before an aged grand piano. There, she played songs of her own. Her CD collection was convenient, but to experience music live was forever a moment Rinoa relished. The songs varied, depending on Julia's mood, and Rinoa memorized them all, bumbling out half-lyrics while shuffling and spinning about the room in unison with her mother.

But this one? This one was new, yet Julia played like one greeted an old friend, separated only by time and distance. Rinoa peeked into the parlor, eyes wide with curiosity.

Julia was an exemplary image of ideal posture, yet she slumped over the keys with a heavy head. Quiet notes trickled into the room. To Rinoa, it was beautiful. She found splendor in life's smallest pleasures, like the flickering flames upon candles. Time and time again, Julia cautioned Rinoa of deceiving appearances.

"Sometimes the most beautiful ones," Julia had said, "are the meanest inside."

Rinoa pouted. "I don't want to be mean."

Julia chuckled. "You're far from mean, sweetie." And she kissed the top of her head before rubbing noses with Rinoa. "But you arebeautiful. On the inside and outside. Never forget that."
And as her mother performed the new melody, Rinoa caught the sadness in Julia's eyes, mirrored in the nostalgic desolation. A part of Rinoa longed to dive into her usual dancing antics, though as that smile faded, she wished for nothing more than to join her mother on the bench and hug her.

Before she tip-toed into the parlor, Julia's lips parted to bring life to the song.

"You know where to find me if you think it's all over. I can sense it a mile off; it's no friendly hello. You could be screaming drunk... well, I've got my bad days, too. I'm gonna be here for you. Be still with me."

Julia continued to sing, her voice lacking the richness and polish Rinoa was accustomed to. Rinoa hung onto the lyrics as best she could, but its meaning slipped past her tiny hands and vanished. It didn't stop her, however, from entering the parlor.

She didn't dance or hum along; Rinoa stood behind her mother with bright eyes. Awe silenced her tongue. A crescendo came and went, leaving an ending which reminded Rinoa of the rain calming down after a violent storm. And with the final fermata, Julia froze.

A massive sigh sifted through Julia. Her hands fell from the keys before she buried her face in her trembling palms. Rinoa tilted her head and blinked. Not a sound left either the piano or Julia.

Rinoa shuffled closer. "Mommy?" Nothing. "Mommy?" She reached out to Julia. "Mommy, are you—"

A tiny hand patted Julia's back and a sharp breath hitched in her throat as if a dagger sunk into her. Julia whipped around. Her taut features eased once her eyes settled on Rinoa.

"Oh, sweetie," Julia spoke with a slight jitter. "I didn't know you were there."

Julia blinked and Rinoa swore the light highlighted tears.

"Mommy, are you crying?"

With an inhale, Julia regained composure and offered a smile Rinoa came to love. "No," she said, tender as always, "Mommy's not crying."

"But... I thought you were crying."

"Not one bit."

Julia bent forward to pick up Rinoa, who giggled and swayed her legs in her air. Once settled in her mother's lap, Rinoa craned her head back.

"What were you playing, Mommy?"

The smile faltered. "Hmmm?"

Rinoa bounced in her lap. "Is it a new one?"

"No," Julia responded after a pause, "it's not."

Rinoa scrunched up her face. "But I've never heard it before! You told me you play all of your songs for me."

"I did say that, didn't I?" Julia chuckled. "Hmm... well, this is sort of... a secret song for Mommy."

"A secret?" Rinoa gasped.

Julia nodded. "A special song."

"Is it on a see-dee, Mommy?"

Another pause. "No, not this one."

"But why not?"

Julia's listless gaze glossed over the piano. The silence pained Rinoa more than the hollowness once present in the notes.

"I wrote this one for myself," Julia murmured. "It wasn't meant to be played on stage, sweetie."

Rinoa struggled to comprehend Julia. Her mother wrote plenty of songs for various reasons: for love, for happiness, for freedom. There had yet to be one in the discography like this one, however.

"Is it... about Daddy?"

Julia's eyes snapped down to Rinoa, but her face softened after a breath. "No."

Rinoa's mouth hung ajar while the tiny gears in her head churned. Nothing clicked, thus the little girl furrowed her brow.

"But—"

"How about we make it our little secret, Rinoa? A song for just you and me?"

It made no sense. Why would someone create something beautiful and not wish to share it with the world? Everyone loved her mother and in turn, her music. Did she worry people would hate it? How could anyone hate those lovely songs?

The very thought made Rinoa pout.

"Oh, sweetie." Julia cupped her cheek and brought Rinoa's gaze up to meet hers. "What's the matter?"

"I don't want people to hate you, Mommy," Rinoa mumbled, unable to maintain eye contact.

In a fluid motion, Julia swept her arms around Rinoa for a tender hug. She rocked back and forth, kissing her temple.

"Sweetie, why would you think that? No one hates Mommy. Daddy loves Mommy very much and I'm sure you love me, too." Rinoa nodded into her mother. "See? We all love each other. And we especially love you, Rinoa. Don't you ever forget that." She nuzzled into Rinoa's face until they both smiled. "Mommy and Daddy won't let anything bad happen to you."

"But... what about you? Who is going to keep bad things from happening to you?"

Julia didn't respond immediately, but the smile remained all the while. "I'm sure someone is looking out for me."

"Like Daddy?"

"Mmhmm. And you." She poked Rinoa's nose.

Rinoa giggled and swatted the finger away. "Mommy! Mommy! I can be your knight! I'll keep you safe!"

The stories of sorceresses and knights weren't present in any children's book lined in Rinoa's library; they came from her mother. She weaved bedtime fairy tales for Rinoa once she was tucked in with a tonberry plushie. Those were Rinoa's favorite. Each night, she pleaded for Julia to tell her another one. A new one. Creativity sparked to life in her mother's mind as she told stories which lulled Rinoa to sleep and granted her fantastic dreams.

For they were just that—a surreal fantasy. Other girls might have wanted to become princesses, but Rinoa longed for the life of adventure and innate magic. It was romantic, in a sense, and Julia never deterred Rinoa away from those fantasies.

"But I'm no sorceress, sweetie," Julia reminded her. "That's what a knight's duty is."

Rinoa processed her mother's words, only to light up. "I'm a different kind of knight!"

"Are you, now?"

"Yup!" Rinoa faced the piano. "I protect... music!" With extended fingers, Rinoa mashed several keys. "And you play music, so... I get to protect Mommy!"

Julia giggled in her ear. "That's rather kind of you, sweetie. Though I think for now, you don't have to worry about protecting Mommy."

Rinoa continued to poke at the keys, each note an amateurish sound mixed in chaos. In time, Julia slid Rinoa onto the bench beside her.

"How about we play together?" Julia inquired.

Rinoa gasped. "Can it be another lesson?!"

"It can be, if you'd like."

Music lessons with Julia rivaled with finger painting. Since the melodies seeping out of the grand piano entranced Rinoa, Julia offered lessons so that one day, Rinoa could play on her own. Rinoa practiced the C major scale with tiny, staccato notes. She recalled four measures of a melody, complete with a handful of chords. Outside of that, Rinoa's attention span wavered and dissolved.

Julia taught not from music sheets, but from memory, though Rinoa struggled to keep the pace with her mother. While she instructed with composed, lithe fingers, Rinoa banged her hand along the keys and laughed at the discord. Julia never scolded her—simply wore a jaded smile and proceeded.

And when Rinoa flat out ceased to listen, Julia drew in a breath and widened her smile. "How about we do something different?"

Rinoa wiggled. "Like what?"

"Like I play something and you dance for Mommy."

She didn't need to suggest it twice. Rinoa crawled off the bench to hurry to the middle of the room. She slid along the tiled floor in her socks, giggling when she regained balance.

"Mommy! Mommy! Play the song about the eyes!"

"You like that one, don't you?"

"Mmhmm!" Rinoa twirled in place. "It's my favorite!"

Without another word, Julia turned center, lengthened her spine, and moved her hands about the keys. The piano's luxurious notes emerged within the parlor once more and echoed through the halls. Rinoa spun and skipped in the open space, lost in the music with her own interpretive dance. And when her mother sang the words she forever adored, Rinoa hummed along, sometimes joining in with the sections she knew.

She could have danced forever if she wanted. But her legs eventually tired and her stomach growled and her eyes drooped and her mother would call it a day, despite Rinoa's whining. Until Julia said otherwise, Rinoa moved with the music without a care for the time which slipped by.

For to her, it stood still.