Marked by Blood

[Damxge]

"He lives!" Boomed a voice, deep and gravelly, echoing through the empty stone corridors, the torches along the walls flickering gently in the drafty old halls. The cries of a child following soon after, drowned out only by the sobs of a mother, relieved that her child had survived the grueling ordeal. A father's laughter mixing into the din as he embraced his family. The joy and relief sweeping through the castle like a wave, illuminating the faded old tapestries and rugs, drawing smiles on the faces of the other occupants resting in their rooms. Outside, the chill night air frosted the windows, the flickering glow of candles through the panes the only thing to be seen for miles over the rolling hills of the European countryside.

Inside the room there sat a mother and father on the edge of their child's bed, embracing one another and their son, barely a month old. Beside them stood a tall, robed figure with a speckled gray beard and bright eyes, a smile barely visible through the tangle of aged hair, tears at the corners of his eyes. And then in the corner, beside the chest and drawers, on a fine velvet chair sat another individual, a top hat dyed the darkest of blacks resting on his lap, smooth white hands with finely manicured nails wrapped softly around it, a smile adorning his blood-red lips. Ever so slowly, he rose to his feet and made his way to the bedside, easing himself down opposite the parents, who still clung to one another in their revelry.

"Congratulations," He said softly, his voice deep and more velvety than the chair in which he'd resided for the last several hours.

"Thank you!" The father managed through his laughter and tears, looking up to the man, his face split in the widest of grins. He was young, in his prime, barely twenty-five with a well maintained beard and a sparkling smile. Medium length black hair adorning his crown, messy and disheveled it gave him an even more youthful appearance.

"We owe you so much," The mother sniffed, wiping away her tears with her free hand as she gazed into her son's eyes, glancing up to the man only when he chuckled. She was a slim woman, with a long face and sharp gray eyes, deep auburn hair framing her glowing face, a single white scar running down her left cheek.

"You owe me nothing, Marissa," The man laughed, reaching across the bed to lay a hand on the baby's head, "In fact, it may be I who owes you," His intensely dark eyes locked with the parents'.

"You know something?" The father asked hesitantly, "The seers told you something?"

"Your child will change the world," He nodded, "But for now, he looks as if he needs some sleep. I'll speak to the two of you in the morning," He eased himself to his feet, the stare of the child resting evenly on him, curiosity and tears fresh on the baby's face.

"I too, will take my leave, he should be fine now that the procedure is over," the older priestly gentleman said, breaking his silence and moving toward the old oak door, yanking it open with a squeak. Quietly, the tall man placed his top hat atop his head and strode to the door, pausing with one foot out the door, glancing back at the loving family.

"What have you named the boy?" He asked curiously.

"Roman," Marissa said softly, speaking partly to the tall man and partly to her baby.

A smile broke on the tall man's face, pointed white incisors glinting in the flickering glow of the candles, revealing the darkness that lay beyond his posh exterior, "A strong name," He nodded and made to step out.

"Thank you again, Londain." The father called after him.

"You're very welcome, James," Came the reply, just as the door creaked closed.

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Just trying an origin story for Roman, not sure if I'll continue it or not, but I wanted to lay the groundwork for it. Lemme know if anyone has thoughts or comments on it!