Que Sera, Sera...
Click to viewMy mother used to sing me a lullabye...
When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother what will I be...
I forgot it for a long time. Thirty years between now and then. For as slow as one's body grows, the Crassus mind grows fast. And Audra was always more of a mother than Anne ever acted. But sometimes she was there, especially when we were little. And some nights when I couldn't sleep, I would hear her downstairs, on the piano, playing slow and sadly lovely. It was our song...
Will I be pretty?...
Not Bianca's song. She was the pretty one. The one with golden curls and blue eyes. The one told she could be a princess from the moment she began to walk.
Will I be rich?...
Not Helena's song. Older and smarter than both of us, she fell in love with opera and the classics from the moment she understood they were respected in this world. She did not like songs because they were pretty. She liked them because they could teach her something, they could train her to be better.
Here's what she said to me...
But my song. She sang it to me, her youngest, her little baby girl, as long as I can remember. Our special song. Not for the men, or those that came in the night, but for her special girl. Her girl who wasn't too pretty, or too smart, but was the last she'd ever have. I think she tried to teach me something.
Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will...
It came back to me on the plane ride home after this weekend. I just started quietly humming it. I couldn't even really remember what it was, but it was this slow, low melody that came through every horrific memory that I couldn't stop reliving. Every hellish moment of the last year and a half.
The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera... What will be, will be.
Amrit's death. The loss of her sharp, strong, intelligent hand at my back. Her cold voice. The most harsh, and yet probably the most instructive kindred for whom I've ever worked. Even she couldn't lash death back with her tongue, but she walked into his embrace with grace and dignity. She taught even as she walked her last.
When I was just a child in school, I asked my teacher, what should I try?
Should I paint pictures? Should I sing songs? This was her wise reply...
Audra's destruction. Out of no where. Fast, sharp, vicious. Like the gardener that cuts off a rose before it's fully bloomed only to find it dies instead of flourishing. Taken probably before her time. Before she had a chance at true happiness. I saw her in love, in those last months. I saw her remembering how to truly breathe, how to have hope. How to be a woman, not just restraining her beast with elegant dresses and sweet words. She tried so, so hard and it was driving her to madness. She was finally learning how to let go, but before she even took one deep, full breath, she was destroyed. I never even got to say good-bye...
Que sera, sera... Whatever will be, will be...
The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera, what will be, will be...
They took Peter, my partner, my husband, my life. They stole Evan, my secret little piece of freedom and passion. Kindred society has most effectively taken from me every man I ever loved. It's taught me the clear lesson that love between a mortal and a kindred is a foolish endeavour to be punished with the maximum amount of loss and bitterness each time it is attempted. Then they killed Duke Foxe. My inspiration, the man who kept reminding me to press on, to be strong. A man who I could have loved like a father... And yet, I keep returning. Keep trying to have some sort of hope. Now there is Jake...
When I was young and fell in love, I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead...
Will we have rainbows day after day? Here's what my sweetheart said...
Que sera, sera...
My little boy. They took him too. Seven months carrying him, protecting him, turning into the mother I never wanted to be. I never even got to hold him, or look into his face. He's well over a year now. I bet he's walking. He says words. I wonder if he cries into the hallways of that big, old mansion, waiting for someone to play piano for him. I wonder if they sing him songs...
Now I have children of my own. They ask their mother, what will they be...
Will I be handsome? Will I be rich?
I'll tell them tenderly. Que sera, sera...
I have to keep telling myself this is all for something greater. The death, the pain, the sacrifice. It protects millions at the loss of a few. I've given them everything. My love, my heart, my child, my service. Everything to protect what I can, to keep walking that line between kindred and human. Everything but my mind.
Is that really so much more to ask? Maybe my mother was wiser than I ever dreamt.
Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see...
Que sera, sera...What will be, will be...
((OOC: For the Crassus version of this song, see here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WVbrycPKXZQ )