The Great and Lonely God

A large and opulent concert hall. Bright lights above a stage decorated with the finest flowers. Every seat occupied with a guest donned in their finest clothes: a mix of furs, feathers, or leathers. Everyone awaits the grand entrance of the next instrument; played by Emilia Crane.

            The young girl, dressed in a black velvet dress with a large red bow in her stark black hair, walks on the stage with a excitable smile as she carefully holds her violin. She joins the pianist accompanying her for tonight. She looks across the audience, looking for a specific person, before starting her piece.

            Her gaze falls on the only person that manages to stand out in a crowd of extravagantly dressed people: Saewulf. A strikingly blond man whose features could only be described as someone that walked straight out of a Viking myth. His large figure overpowers the small women at each of his sides. His icy blue eyes cut through the darkness of the seating area, making it easier for Emilia to recognize him.

Her smile grows wider, exposing a dimple that only appears on her right cheek. She places her hand over her chest, tapping it exactly three times; a secret gesture between her and her godfather.

            He receives the message loud and clear, returning it with great affection. It’s enough encouragement for Emilia to begin her song with confidence. She props the instrument on her small shoulder, positioning the large bow over its fine strings. Saewulf notices her count to three under her breath before letting the notes take over.

            The latter closes his eyes, letting the melody pierce through him like pin needles.

            There’s not an instrument you cannot play. You’ll tire of it someday.

            If I ever get tried of creating music, that means I’m on my path towards God.

            He notices how Emilia furrows her eyebrows and purses her lips in concentration. She lifts her little finger to get a better balance of her bow. Without fail, the note flows out smoothly into the air. Like a prayer being sent to the heavens.

            At least if Emilia were to pray to them, they will be heard.

            I will sell my soul. I beg of you. God has abandoned me. Please let him live. I can’t be without him.

            He will not survive, but you can make sure his bloodline will. A prayer in exchange for a curse.

            She opens her eyes, exposing bright green coloring in them. If the light hits them perfectly, blue ringlets appear around the pupil, and flecks of gold rim the iris like rays of sunshine. However, one defining feature of them are the little moles that sit outside the pupil in each eye. They're the first part of her Saewulf noticed at her birth.

            That finally, a child that looks exactly like Aelric, is born again.

            You hold the earth and the seas in your eyes. If I were to ever have children, I’d wish they’d look like you, so I can look through fertile fields and clear waters if my lands are barren and my rivers dry.

            The song ends perfectly. Expectedly. Emilia bows just as Saewulf taught her to: a curtsy with her hand over her chest while she lowers her head. However, she bends a little too far, and her hair falls over her shoulders. The white patch at her nape is shown to the audience. Another sign that she is truly a copy of his long departed friend.

            She stands up straight, gushing and basking over the sound of the roaring applause. Her cheeks flush as she waves in gratitude towards the audience. She blows kisses to her parents, who sit at the very front row, unaware that Saewulf is also present. Until Emilia turns his way to blow him a kiss as well.

            He pretends to catch it before softly placing it over his heart. Unconsciously, though, his fingers graze over his collarbone, feeling the rift of a scar he shares with Aelric, before saying his goodbyes to him.

            After the end of the recital, Saewulf patiently waits for Emilia at the entrance along with her parents, John and Sophia. Her father shares some similarities with her, as did his own father, and his father’s father. The only problem is that something was always amiss with them, preventing Saewulf from getting attached completely.

            Finally, the little girl bounces towards them, hauling her violin case with her while carrying a bouquet that’s nearly half her size. John takes the case to help her load, but she pays no mind to it, caring more about their opinions than the heavy weight.

            “What did you think?” she asks with eyes as big as moons.

            Her parents smile with pride. John playfully ruffles her perfectly styled hair. “You did amazing, my darling. I knew you could do it.”

            “We are so happy for you,” her mother chimes in.

            Emilia finally turns to Saewulf, waiting for the same praise as her parents. He teases her by shrugging at her exquisite performance. With feigned annoyance, Emilia sticks out her tongue at him. The former chuckles and pinches her dimpled cheek. “You do not need my praise, little one. You already know you play wonderfully.”

            “But I also know you’ve heard many other people play music like mine. What if I’m not as good as them?”

            Her father was putting on her little red coat. The top of her dress pulled lower, exposing her birthmark, matching the one Saewulf has. He fixes her sleeve before answering, “Not only are you as good as them, in my heart, you are the best out of all of them. Do you know why?”

            “Why?”

            When you are gone, come to me in the form of music, so I can be at peace knowing your soul still exists in the same plane as I do.

            He smiles fondly at her, hiding the everlasting sadness behind his eyes. “Because your melodies are the only ones I’ll remember dearly.”