Heroes
Standing alone on the wall above the Skaian Gate,
A small boy waits
He waits, and he hopes
He knows, in his heart of hearts, that his mother will sleep alone tonight
And he knows, in every fibre of his being, that his father will not stagger home from the battle, as he had done so many times before
And he knows, in his very soul, that he will go without a brother, or a sister, for the rest of his days
And he knows that his father's body will rest on the funeral pyre among the others that died today, and that smoke will billow out from the discarded shell of the man he has loved above all others
And he knows that it will be the same with himself, if the warring doesn't stop before his time comes
The boy stands alone above the Skaian Gate
No tears fall from his eyes
No wails escape from his throat
He is silent...
He knows that hope is pointless
But still, he hopes
And he waits
For the father that would never again comfort him, or tell him tales of heroes' victories, or see him grow into a man...
Or see him fall under a Greek's sword
And cast asunder, his armour stripped off and taken as a spoil of war
For that, at least, he was thankful his father would not be around to witness
But his mother... his mother will weep, and tear at her clothes for her son as she already is for her husband
A small boy, no more than seven summers old, should not have to deal with such tidings of woe
They say that peace will come someday
But peace never comes to the hearts of those who have loved, and lost
The boy waits
And hopes against hope
That his beloved father will one day return
And his mother will cease her lamenting
And his mind will be at peace
Atop the Skaian gate
A lone boy waits for the father he knows has died
But still, he has hope.
