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Something was different about Rahn lately. He rarely ever sang, despite inheriting his father’s voice, but lately, he was singing. He let his sisters join in, instead of how he usually cut himself off the second they did. He sang along with his father after dinner, too, when he normally hummed. His name meant a song of joy, but he had never expressed that meaning until now.
The singing itself wouldn’t have been so odd if he weren’t also spending more and more time outside the house, or at least, simply not where anyone could find him. Rahn was old enough to go adventuring, but not even his best friend knew where he was, and they were meant to stick together. Such aberrant behavior needed to be explained.
With that in mind, G’raha exchanged a look with Moonflower when they heard Rahn singing outside again, and together they left the house to find their only son singing while weaving. A beautiful blue cloth was forming under his fingers, using expertise that they hadn’t seen before. They had seen him making clothing and armor, but never with such absolute care.
“Rahn? Can we talk to you?” Moonflower asked.
He stopped and looked up, a guilty expression on his face. His hands hovered over the cloth, almost as if he were going to try hiding it but knew it was impossible. “Y-yes?”
The pair sat down next to him so that they weren’t looming over him. “You’re not in trouble,” G’raha assured him. “We… we just want to know if you’re all right.”
“Never better,” Rahn was quick to answer, his ears slowly flattening. “Is that all?”
Moonflower didn’t know what else to do except blurt it out. “You’ve been singing lately, and disappearing.”
“My singing bothers you?” he spluttered. “What’s wrong with singing?”
“Nothing!” G’raha leaned forward, trying to stop a misunderstanding from happening. “It’s just that you’ve never really done it before, have you?”
Rahn looked away and fiddled with his shuttle. “I… I have spent a lot of time alone,” he began to explain in a halting voice. “I miss home when that happens.”
“Where do you disappear to?” Moonflower leaned forward too, and hesitantly put a hand on his faded red hair. He relaxed almost instantly; no matter how old he was, he was still a momma’s boy at heart, and his mother’s touch along his hair and his ears soothed him beyond words. “It worries us when we can’t find you and don’t know where you are. I know you can handle yourself—you didn’t do all that studying for nothing—but a mother still worries…”
Rahn dropped the shuttle and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face into her shoulder. “Please don’t ask me. Please. I miss home. I miss you and my sisters. It made me realize that I wanted to sing too.”
Moonflower exchanged a worried look with G’raha. “Kitten?” Their son wasn’t making sense. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
He nodded and peered up at his father with his red eye, the other half of his face still safely tucked against his mother. “It made me realize how much I love you, that’s all.”
Nothing could have prepared G’raha and Moonflower for such a statement. Their son had always been quiet and not prone to big declarations. Whatever was happening on these disappearing adventures was clearly doing him some good, even if they found the delivery startling. Perhaps this new desire to sing was not aberrant behavior after all, but the new normal for him. The thought occurred to them both at the same time, bringing smiles to their faces. “We love you too, Rahn. Never doubt that,” said G’raha, also stroking Rahn’s hair.
“Yes. After all, you’re our song of joy.”
Embarrassed, Rahn hid his face completely and groaned. “Mother, please.”
And there it was. The two laughed, amused and relieved, and slowly let go. Rahn would explain himself eventually, and until then, they would be blessed with his voice. That was more than enough. “We’ll leave you to your weaving, then,” G’raha declared.
Moonflower went in first, and just when he was about to follow, Rahn stopped him. “Like snow, Father.”
G’raha looked over his shoulder. “Like snow?”
Rahn wasn’t looking at him, instead moving the shuttle with the same delicate care as before. “Like snow breathed to life. You said a princess made of moonbeams… I saw snow.”
His grip on the doorframe tightened as he had to hang onto something after that kind of statement. At last, he stepped inside, and just before he shut the door, said, “Take care out in the snow, Rahn. Wait for the thaw.”
Rahn replied by humming a song about flowers in the snow.