POV: ???
I can't remember much about my father, my father was never there and my mother rarely spoke of him. However, I didn't care about any of that, my mother loved me enough to account for the loss of a father in my life.
She was amazing, she knew when I was sad when I was in need of love and knew how to make me laugh. She was also very pretty, long wavy snow white hair, beautiful scarlet red eyes and a smile that would warm up any room. Well any room I was in anyhow.
However, before I knew it, that love, warmth and affection disappeared, my mother was killed. I lost my only anchor to this world, my only light. This world is cruel and merciless and I hate being so powerless. But what could I do? I was only 5 years old at the time and I am now only 6 nearly 7. I am an orphan, living in a dilapidated so called 'orphanage.' I was dragged here when I was found alone wandering after losing mother.
The so called 'carers' don't actually care about me or any other kid here, they even sometimes hurt us for fun, I guess? I don't know why else they would do something so cruel. Ah that word again cruel. Yes, this world is cruel.
I can't remember how long I have been here for, slowly losing any hope. Maybe weeks? Maybe months? I don't know. Sometimes I wish my father would just walk in here and take me away from this hell and shower me in love and attention that I so desperately crave since mother left my life. I fantasise about him, what kind of man is he? Good? or cruel? like the rest of this world? Is he strong? is he as beautiful as mother was? If he did end up whisking me away, would he love me? Or care for me?
Anyway, no use fantasising about something that will never happen, as if he could find me, maybe he doesnt even know about me.
As I pull myself out of my reverie, I look across the 'general area' of the 'orphanage' as I cast my weary red eyes across the room, the usual drab interior greets me along with the cracks going up the walls and the broken floorboards. The place is dirty and dusty, it seems whatever money this place gets, is pocketed by the 'carers.' I look over the scattering of children like me, abandon by the world left to rot in this hell. They all look as beaten and downcast as I. I haven't really spoken with many of the kids here, to be honest, most of them seem in their own world, I guess like me.
As I turn my head further to the right what greets me is a window, well it is a broken one. I like to sit here and get lost in my own thoughts, daydreaming about my super dad who will save me. That was sarcasm by the way, there is no father coming to save me. As I look through the window I see my reflection and it depresses me, my once bright long wavy golden hair has dimmed and is matted, my once brilliant bright red eyes inherited from my mother are now dim and almost lifeless, my once pale and creamy white skin is no covered in the aftermath of the abuse I have suffered. Scratches, cuts, bruises all up my arms and over my torso which can now be mostly seen because of the laughable excuse for clothes I was forced into when coming here.
I keep looking out that same broken window, trying to ignore the person looking back when I suddenly here a ruckus outside in the city. For reference the 'orphanage' is situated in the middle of the city pretty much, so it is usually busy and rowdy. However, this time its different, people are congregating in huge groups outside as they all whisper among themselves.
I push myself closer to the window trying my best to be discreet so the 'carers' don't 'discipline' me again. As I do I start to over hear what the people are saying. "Oh my goodness its really him, what's he doing in a place like this." Said one woman to another. One man whispered to his friend " That's the One Blessed by Light, what the hell is he doing in a backwater city like ours?" The One Blessed by Light? Who the hell is that, I thought.
Suddenly I don't need to wait for an answer because I see the 'carers' rush to the old wooden double doors of the 'orphanage' for some reason, they are not usually in a hurry to do anything let alone in a hurry to greet anyone, however, they seem frantic. Hmm so unusual. Suddenly I hear some outside say " *Gasp* he is going to the old orphanage? Why? What could someone of his high esteem want from an old run down orphanage?" Said a woman to a man of similar age, maybe her husband as they parted to let this person of 'high esteem' as she put it, enter our little hell. Hmm maybe a noble? No wonder the 'carers' are acting like this. Anyway its non of my business, not like I will be picked anyway, well I hope I don't, most nobles are very cruel and twisted from my own experience. Better to stay low, I thought as I got down off the worn and rugged chair and made my way to the back of the general area room, and tried to make myself as small as possible.
All of a sudden, I could here the 'carers' and even the head of this hell himself a bald, old man, with a big long nose and bushy grey eyebrows sporting an attire close to that of what a noble wears, greeting the man who must be a noble. I'm keeping my ear out to hear any of their conversation, however, its quite difficult considering the distance.
As I thought that, the head of this hell led the man into the room. I have never seen that old man act so respectful in my time here, who is this guy? As I thought this, the man himself entered surveying the room and keeping deathly quiet as the head of this hell continues to throw out flattery language, however, it seems the man himself is basically ignoring him.
Although, as I peek at the man from the back of the room, I feel an instinctive fear from this man. He was so tall, so pretty, long golden hair falling down his back like a waterfall, bright golden eyes that seemed to look into your very soul and the power radiating off of him, even though anyone with a brain can tell he is restraining himself. Its not just his physical or magic power that make him seem daunting to stand in front of though, or even his impressive height, it was the way he commanded a room with his very presence, the way he makes any room, doesnt matter how large or small it seems to everyone else seem small, its the way his posture and etiquette are so perfect, impeccable even, that he seems impossibly perfect. This is what makes this man so powerful, so daunting.
Why the hell is he here? I just didn't understand. I don't think anyone did, let alone me. All of sudden, his eyes like a predators who had found their prey fell onto me, they seemed to see into my very being, my very soul. I shuddered involuntarily at that stare, then without even giving the head of this hell a second look, like he was beneath him to even be near him, he came walking over to me in a slow but steady rhythm.
Step, step, step...
Then he stopped right in front of me.
Gulp...