The Morning

As Daphid stood before the baby lying in the cradle that had been made especially for him by his own father, he knew he should feel stupid. And yet, he felt no such thing. He had often been told that people dealt with these types of situations differently, and he supposed that this was his way of dealing with something he never thought he would have to face. Indeed, before he had met Anna, he had never even contemplated the idea that one day he might be a father himself.

But now, here he was, singing an old lullaby to his firstborn son. It did not matter what anyone else said, to Daphid, the baby boy was perfect. It had taken hours, but they had finally settled on a name for him. They had named him Doran, after Deltora's greatest explorer. Both he and Anna had wanted to give the baby a name that no one else in either of their families had had. But at the same time, they wanted to name him after someone they all knew of, and Doran was such a fitting name. After all the man had been through, it seemed right that Deltora's royal family should name one of its children after him.

Baby Doran wore a beautiful white silk robe that the lady Sharn had made for Anna, but she had never worn it. Once it had become clear that Anna would never ware it, the gown had been put away in a box in Sharn's room and forgotten. Until now.

Daphid felt touched and honoured that a garment made with such love and care was now being worn by his own son, though he knew that the gown's purpose should be breaking his heart. He supposed it helped that Doran was also wrapped in the faded blue blanket that had once kept him warm when he was a babe. But he knew that the time for heartbreak would come later, when it was all over.

"Slumber my Darling, 'til morn's blushing ray, Brings to the world the glad tidings of day.

Fill the dark void with your dreamy delight, Slumber, your father will guard you tonight."

Daphid stopped singing as his voice broke. Those last two lines had been the truest he had sung in his life. Yes, he would stand here and guard his son, and hope that the tiny, precious thing that he had helped to create would have enough "dreamy delight" to get them all through it.

For the previous two lines had sung were not true at all. Tomorrow morning's sunrise would bring no glad tidings at all, at least not for anyone in his (now rather large) family.

In the morning, they would all be attending Baby Doran's funeral.