(headcanon)
I felt like I had to write this one out. :'( Usually I don't write my headcanon scenes out, but this one was begging for it.
Little feet pounded the floor frantically as the child sprinted through the house, through hallways, through doorways, down stairs. He knew where he was headed, the path second nature to him having lived there for as long as he could even remember, and didn't stop until he was at the front door, nearly toppling over from the sudden halt. The woman who was headed out that door stopped as the small figure tugged at her robe, and where there had been a stern expression once before, there was nothing but affection and adoration, if not a sort of doggedness that she tried so desperately to hide.
Scooping the young boy into her arms, he clung to her neck, burying his face in her hair, and all she could do was sigh and rub his back and try to hush his tiny sobs. "There there, παιδί μου, my little darling...I'll come back for you soon. I promise."
She smiled at him then, as he pulled his head back and rubbed at his eyes, with the back of his hands. And for all his little self was worth, he believed it. With every fiber of his tiny self, he just knew that his mother would not leave him there. She set him down on the ground, finally, and kissed where the tears had stained his cheeks, and ran her fingers through his hair.
"Until I come back, I left some things for you to find in the garden. Won't it be fun? Like a treasure hunt." And when she laughed, it was soft and sorrowful, but the latter he could not pick up on yet, and so he laughed with her, the tears more or less forgotten, for the time being.
That's how she left him, to dig in the garden, and until the strange man in the mask came and took him away from that home. He still remembers it, though. Greece will never forget the last time he saw his mother's face.
παιδί μου - my child
Little feet pounded the floor frantically as the child sprinted through the house, through hallways, through doorways, down stairs. He knew where he was headed, the path second nature to him having lived there for as long as he could even remember, and didn't stop until he was at the front door, nearly toppling over from the sudden halt. The woman who was headed out that door stopped as the small figure tugged at her robe, and where there had been a stern expression once before, there was nothing but affection and adoration, if not a sort of doggedness that she tried so desperately to hide.
Scooping the young boy into her arms, he clung to her neck, burying his face in her hair, and all she could do was sigh and rub his back and try to hush his tiny sobs. "There there, παιδί μου, my little darling...I'll come back for you soon. I promise."
She smiled at him then, as he pulled his head back and rubbed at his eyes, with the back of his hands. And for all his little self was worth, he believed it. With every fiber of his tiny self, he just knew that his mother would not leave him there. She set him down on the ground, finally, and kissed where the tears had stained his cheeks, and ran her fingers through his hair.
"Until I come back, I left some things for you to find in the garden. Won't it be fun? Like a treasure hunt." And when she laughed, it was soft and sorrowful, but the latter he could not pick up on yet, and so he laughed with her, the tears more or less forgotten, for the time being.
That's how she left him, to dig in the garden, and until the strange man in the mask came and took him away from that home. He still remembers it, though. Greece will never forget the last time he saw his mother's face.
παιδί μου - my child