'A Man is Strengthened from the wisdom of his life. A Prince is crowned to the responsibilities of a time. However, a great King is born from the ashes of his past'
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On a cold winter Night, when stars fails to twinkle, and its cold flickers the fireplace, a hooded figure, dropped a child wrapped in thick blankets having the royal crest embedded with its hem, in front of a fisherman's house.
A long look and three knocks were all, before the figure kissed the baby a last goodbye, before rushing into the snow, vanishing with the cold, not listening to a single cry, but with tears rolling down the cheeks.
The cry of the baby, led the fisherman flinging the door open. He was a slim man, with a crooked shape for a middle-aged one, he bit on a cigarette and held a shotgun in hand, then stared into the night, before checking both directions.
"I don't think my ears heard a baby's cry! Or those wolves are up again? I'll blow their heads off!" He growled, before his eyes landed on the baby struggling to move admist its tender tears.
The fisherman dropped his pistol beside, then picked up the child, "Mabel! Mabel!" He called inside, "Mabel where are you?! Or have your legs taken you lost in the house."
A stout woman with a serious expression stepped out from one of the room, "Have you gone so old not to hear my footsteps_," Her lips were sealed shut after seeing a baby in her husband's hands.
"By the gods!" She rushed to where he stood, "BY THE GODS! Who drops a child at a poor man's doorstep?"
"I don't know," The fisherman eyes searched the child for a name, at least if the child is abandoned, there's supposed to be such, but none. Just a slight cut having an 'X' mark on one arm, but before he could speak of it, something else caught his attention on the blanket, "My words! The Royal Seal—"
Mabel suddenly leaped backwards with fear as her heart raced, "Oh Bad Tidings; This child is ROYAL BLOOD!"
The Man pushed the baby into his wife's hands, "I cast good tidings back to your words! Take the baby in! Royal blood or not, we can't leave him in the cold."
"HIM?" Mabel searched through the child, raising it up from the blanket, "A boy?"
The fisherman picked up from shotgun before darting sideways at both directions, then locking the door shut, "If it's a boy, that means... A heir he is?..."
Mabel quickly wrapped the child up when she saw him sneeze, "Heir or not, he's a rare one," She said to her husband pointing out the black hair and pairs of eyes the boy had, "Golden as the Sun, crimson red as blood; Seen no such combination all my life! Or have you?
"Not in my sixty years, at all!" The fisherman stretched out his hands, staring at the child as if fate itself had placed him there. "But, then, so be it. The gods have chosen, and we are but players in their tale."