Thirteen Lullabies | ✓

XI.I

It had been over three centuries since I had seen you and every day it hurt more and more to be away from you. But unlike many of our past lives, I didn't feel lost or angry. I felt happy. I felt as though I had no worries in the world.

I knew I would see you again, and I knew I would always be in the right place to find you. That is the only way I can describe those three hundred years. Though I know how I felt, I cannot remember a single thing I did, other than travel back to England.

One of the many curses of being immortal was someone remembering your face, or worse, someone somehow managing to find a picture of you from years before. It was easier to slip in and out of different towns, leaving not a single impression on anyone. The only person I ever left my mark on was you, and that was usually forgotten by the next time I met you.

Slipping from town to town was just what I was doing when I first saw you in your next life. I was riding through the English countryside when I both heard and felt the thudding of hoofbeats behind me.

Seconds later, you appeared atop a tall white stallion, your wispy brown hair waving around your pale face. You weren't paying much attention to your surroundings, instead looking behind you as if searching for something.

You must have found what you were looking for, for a few seconds later you threw your head back and laughed, a melodic sound that pinned me to the spot. I tried to move as you kept riding towards me, but Eleanora, my own horse, had a mind of her own, seemingly just as in awe of you as I was.

Before I got a chance to call out, your skittish stallion was startled by us, rearing back and throwing you from your black leather saddle. This finally pulled me from my trance. Jumping off Eleanora, I rushed to your side, pulling you into my arms. The pain in my wrist subsiding was only confirmation of something I already knew.

You were my Willow.

I saw what you had been looking at when you were riding, another horse and rider closing in on us swiftly. My breath caught, for I could not believe who it was.

Queen Victoria, barely twenty, sat perched atop the most majestic horse I had ever seen, breath coming out in short bursts from the exertion of the ride. I could tell it was her from the portraits I had seen and the way she was dressed.

She eyed me warily, and in the most commanding voice I had ever heard, she asked me, "Who are you and what have you done to my Mistress of Robes?" I didn't know what to say, what to think. What do you do when the queen of England addresses you?

I stood, bowing before her. "I—. Her horse—." She raised an eyebrow.

Clearing my throat, I stood and started again. "I was taking a break here and the horse was startled by me. She was thrown from her horse. We need to get her help immediately."

The queen looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "You have done enough. I will take her back to the palace."

The thought of letting you leave my sights sent me into a frenzy, so I sat back down and held you again. "Please. Let me take her back. I feel responsible and I want to make sure she recovers fully."