Just a vignette I wrote for while they were all in Silessia, pretty much entirely for little Seliph. I will admit to being a terrible Fire Emblem elitist and having to look up the most commonly accepted name for the country because I'd called it Silenia instead.
The title comes from a lullaby that I wanted to include so badly, but I couldn't find a way to make it fit in the story, so the title is all that's left.
Sigurd sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped, watching Seliph play with a little wooden horse that Queen Rahna had given him, and tried not to think of Deirdre. If he did, it was far too easy to forget the reasons he had to be in Silessia, why he couldn't leave to go and search for her.
Seliph seemed to be okay for the most part, though he wasn't really old enough to understand more than that Mama was missing and he didn't know when she'd be back. He was babbling at the horse, tiny chubby fists making it bounce up and down like he imagined a real horse would. Sigurd smiled faintly as he watched, feeling that same emptiness filling his chest, unable to be banished for more than a few hours. Without her, everything felt flat and lifeless, without purpose.
He knew that it wasn't appropriate to do nothing but sit and miss her, that even if he couldn't return to the main country right now, he could be doing more, but there were days where it was easier to leave the small room and interact with everyone else, and days when Seliph was the only person he could bear to see. Today was one of the latter.
Seliph appeared to grow bored of bouncing his horse, throwing it against the wall before pushing himself to his feet to toddle over to pick it up and throw it again, the loud clatter of wood on stone jarring in the otherwise quiet. He thought it might be snowing again, he'd had to put more wood on the fire that morning than usual.
The game of throwing the horse lasted only a few seconds before Seliph lost interest entirely, looking around the room with blue eyes that seemed too hopeful for this world before they alighted on his legs, drawing out a smile that was all his mother's. Sigurd didn't even have to be told that Seliph wanted him to pick him up, reaching down as his son ran over, swinging him up into his arms. Seliph let out a happy laugh, wrapping his small arms around his neck and crowing with delight as Sigurd stood up, walking over to the small window and pulling aside the curtain.
They looked out onto the snowy world, the snow just a few shades lighter than Deirdre's hair, and Sigurd had to think very hard about anything but her before his composure crumbled. She would have loved it here, he thought as Seliph leaned to put his small hands against the glass before pulling them back with a squeal. "It's cold, isn't it?" he asked as Seliph buried his hands against his neck, turning away from the winter. "Maybe tomorrow we can go out in the snow."
Seliph shook his head emphatically, his soft hair colliding with his ear. "No," he said firmly, "no."
A part of him agreed with his son, that the winter was to be ignored and run away from till it became spring again, but that was a child's wish and he wasn't a child, he hadn't been for a long time. No matter what he wanted, he had to be an adult, a king, a father. He couldn't be anything else, the one person he knew wouldn't turn away from his weaknesses was gone. Sigurd sat back on the bed, still holding his son close, and wished that the winter in his heart could be turned away from as easily as the winter outside.