Norrington's Darling

Lullaby

POV: Zuri Norrington

Humming a song from my infancy I no longer knew the words to, I cradled my tiny son in my arms, swaying him as a ship might rock. The warmth of the sun fell on the balcony I stood upon, the balcony James had once ambushed me from behind on, teasing me suggestively about my slip. The promise ring was on my necklace still, warming my skin, and his wedding ring had been strung onto it as well. I couldn't bear to bury that golden band with him, so I'd kept it as a token of our love.

Not that I needed one, now that the proof was bundled in my arms.

Cedric, now a month old, had opened his eyes only five days before. They were the same brilliant green as his father's eyes. I looked into them now, smiling at my son and bopping him on the nose. He giggled, squirming in my arms.

My gaze drifted to the horizon. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, glowing across the sky and reminding me of a green flash that brought us home. My soul squeezed suddenly as I imagined, James behind me, holding me to his chest, cooing at his son. 

I shifted Cedric to my hands, raising him up in the air and flying him around. He giggled, beaming, waving his little arms. I swooped him down before he could get sick on me and tickled him, bringing him inside. I fed him, watching the sun inch below the waters. When Cedric was satisfied, I nestled him in his crib, which was just an arm's length from my side of the bed. I tucked him in and collapsed in my bed, reaching out an arm to rock him to gentle sleep.

I lay awake long after Cedric had initially fallen into slumber, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for the first inevitable—

Cedric began to cry. Muffling a groan, I swung out of bed and lifted him from his cradle, swaying him in my arms. I spoke to him, soft and mumbled words about his father. Nightly, Cedric began to cry after an hour or so of sleep. I hadn't slept very well for a month.

The balcony was Cedric's favorite place to be taken, even when nothing but the stars could be seen overhead. As I sang softly to him, I moved to the balcony, swaying him in my arms. I pressed a soft kiss to his head, humming all the while. 

"You should sing one of those songs Mum used to sing us."

I jumped a mile. Jack stood just a few feet away from me. "Don't do that, you scared me half to death."

Jack put his arm around my shoulder. "Ah, Zu. You wouldn't let death come an inch closer than you wanted it to if you weren't ready for it."

I smiled, beginning to sway Cedric once more. He made a soft cooing sound, reaching out in Jack's general direction. "Do you hear Uncle Jack, Ced? Yeah? Do you want him to hold you?" He gurgled. "That's a yes as far as I can gather."

Jack laughed, his arms already reaching out for Cedric. I passed him my son, watching with a smile as Jack beamed, holding him close. Cedric reached his little hands up toward Jack's beaded hair. He caught one, tugging on it.

"Ow, that's my hair, Ced," Jack admonished gently. 

"You know," I began slowly, "if it weren't for the hair, this is exactly how I imagined it would have gone with James." Jack looked up. "When he held his son. You're looking at him the same way I thought he would have. The way he always looked when he talked about kids. The way he got quiet and contemplative in a quiet moment the night I told him I was pregnant. That's the look you have when you look at Cedric."

Jack squeezed my hand. "It might be a stupid question, but are you alright, Zu? I mean, it's still so fresh, so recent that you lost James and now you have a son to care for..."

I considered Jack's question for a while. "I...I'm not sure, Jack. I haven't really...I haven't really had a chance to consider it much. I've hardly had a moment to breathe since I got back to Port Royal. There was his funeral, cleaning the town of Beckett, setting up new chains of command... Even when I stopped working to fix things because Theo and Ana threatened me to, I didn't really think about it. I pushed myself away from it." I rubbed my arms as a bizarrely cool wind swept over me. "I mourn in quiet. I don't let others see."

"Maybe you should," Jack said, not unkindly. "It's not a crime to accept help every once in a while."

I winced. "Well, I know that, but... Ana and Theo are only just married. They're mourning, too. I don't want to weigh them down."

"They'd be glad to help you, Zu, you know that," he reminded me. "And I am, too. Dad might be a little less kindly about it, but I'm sure he'd listen if you talked to him." He bounced Cedric up and down; Ced giggled.

"I just...I just wish Tia were here," I said quietly.

"Ah," Jack agreed. "Good ol' Tia Dalma." He sounded forlorn at the mention of her, each syllable rounded with sadness.

"Her magic's a comfort, a constant presence I can differentiate from the power I had before she gave me hers, but it's quieter since she died. It's like a sea that's gone tame in the eye of the storm. I feel like it's going to burst and drown me." I sighed. "I wish I knew what she'd say."

"Something good," Jack promised. "Something right. Tia always knew what to say."

"Aye, she did," I agreed. "I miss her. I miss them all, Jack."

He passed me Cedric, then folded me into his arms. "I know, Zu, I know." He stroked my hair comfortingly, the same way our mother used to do when we were kids and I couldn't sleep. "Sing that lullaby Mum sang, the one about the sirens and Odysseus."

"Knowledge That Tempts? That one?"

"If that's what it's called."

I shrugged. "That's the one I remember."

"Sing that one."

I swaddled Cedric a little more tightly in his blanket, beginning to hum the melody before I opened my mouth to sing the words our mother had taught me.

Temptations of Odysseus,
These are not few and far between.
And to him sirens sing
Of wisdom, jewels, and joy.

So he, proud and virtuous,
Thought knowledge he could glean.
But as their voices ring,
His deepest wishes they employ.

"Come, O great king, and visit,
For our shores are beautiful
Like your lovely Penelope.

And these promises so vivid,
Truly tempted was he, this indisputable
And this was thought his elegy.

Yet for great Odysseus,
His wisdom doth prevail.
And with Circe's guidance
He escaped and told his tale.

And though the story is piteous
And fraught with a mournful wail,
Odysseus' great subsidence 
Shall not cause him to fail.

So this we sing and this we hear
As we traverse these deep waters
For here is our home upon the sea
Protected by his great Odyssey.

And if to the sea we disappear
Remember, dearest daughters,
That these waters make us free
So keep comradery.