I don't own Tori Amos's "Winter".
Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens
Lyon's hands shook as he carried the tray to his father's chambers. An herbal potion mixed expertly by the castle's healers, a glass of pungent-smelling syrup, and a cup of his favorite wildberry tea. Just like every day for the last six months.
No change, the physician said, but Lyon never stopped hoping. Snow fell in blankets outside, the cold worsening Father's condition, and still he hoped. Winter would be over eventually, and when spring came Father would be himself again. He would recover.
But something kept Lyon coming back, as if it could be the last time he ever saw him. Servants had since given up on insisting their prince not busy his hands with menial tasks; Lyon himself was surprised at his own insistence, where normally he was so soft and weak-willed.
I get a little warm in my heart
Slowly, he walked through the darkened halls, careful of every step he took, not wishing to spill the concoctions or the tea. When he reached his father's chambers, he nudged the door with his foot.
"Come in," the raspy voice sounded from within, and Lyon's heart sank.
"You look better," he lied. "How are you feeling this evening?"
"No change," Father whispered, echoing the physician's words. "Come, let me look at you...you're paler than usual."
"Don't worry about me, Father," Lyon insisted as he placed the tray into his waiting hands. "I'm certainly not. Nothing matters to me but seeing you get well."
"Ah, my son..." Father whispered, smiling thinly. "My only son..." Sentiment clouded the man's eyes, and tears pricked at Lyon's. "Such kindness, such generosity, such selflessness. You...will make a wonderful emperor soon."
I hear a voice, you must learn to stand up
For yourself, for I won't always be around
"N-no, not soon...Father, I'm nowhere near ready! Our people, Grado herself, she deserves only the best...I'm nowhere near being half as good as you!"
"Lyon, listen to me," Father said firmly. "Someday, I will be gone, and Grado will be in your hands. You must be strong-"
"I'm not!" Lyon immediately felt like kicking himself for that outburst. "I-I'm sorry, I-"
Father's shaking hand reached up to touch his face.
"You are. More than you realize," he whispered. "Lead our people, my son. Your kindness will prevail...you will succeed me in all ways."
"I can't." The tears fell freely now. "Not without you, I can't do this without you." Father closed his eyes, taking Lyon's hand in his own and squeezing.
"Lyon...I know I rarely say it, but I've always been proud of you. My only son...my only living flesh and blood...my one regret is that I will never see you become the emperor you were meant to be."
"...Father."
You say I wanted you to be proud of me
I always wanted that myself
Hearing Father say he believed in him should have been the best feeling in the world, but all it did was hurt. Quietly, Lyon released his hand and tried to force a smile through his tears.
"Goodnight, Father."
Someday Grado would be his, and he wanted to promise with all his heart that he would fulfill Father's last wishes.
But he knew he could not.