I don't own PoT...wish I did...stupid TB skin tests....enjoy....one shot....guess who it is....ciao.
Small feet ran across the floor, skidding to a stop right before a wall. The little child ran down the set of pure marble stairs and turned down a corridor. The child passed through a hall of paintings, portraits that captured the beauty of the child's ancestors. The child stopped before two paintings and looked at them.
The first one held the child's father. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders and a slim waist. Behind him were his parents. They looked like a king and queen, royalty dripping from their beings from their shiny jewels to the rich clothes.
The next painting was of the child's mother. She was beautiful, the moon reflected from the window painted next to her, shined down upon her, making her glow. Her eyes were fierce yet loving as they peered into the child's eyes. The child stood captivated by her beauty. She was sitting on the bench below the tall window sill, clad in a red dressed that revealed her many curves and pooled around her feet. Her hair was artfully half-pinned to her head; some rich curls tumbled over her shoulders like a dark and flowing curtain of tresses.
The child was picked up when a strong arm wrapped around their waist. The child looked into the eyes of the young man from the first painting. His eyes cut into the child, much like their mother's. Steel gray warmed and a large hand ran through the child's dark tresses. The child's own lighter gray eyes twinkled as they looked at the handsome man.
He began to walk back towards the staircase and trekked up the stairs. Not a word was said. They went to two cream doors that led to the master bedroom and entered. A large chandelier hung high above their heads as they walked into the room. The walls were painted a peachy color with white accents running along the edges where the walls met the ceiling and floor. The man let the child down and the child walked cautiously over to the large bed. There was a woman resting there. Her once long hair, cut to her shoulders tastefully. In her arms was a small bundle.
The child peered over and poked at the bundle. It moved and a baby's face was revealed. A boy, the baby was a boy with his father's hair and his mother's eyes.
"Dwaddy, it pwetty bwaby," The child spoke. They were only about three years old anyway.
"Yes he is, he is your brother. You must be a good big sister. Can you do that Keiko?"
"Keiko can do ANYTHING!" The child said happily, playing with edge of the blanket.
Bleary eyes opened, followed by yawning as Keiko's mother sat up.
"Take it easy Brat," The man said affectionately as he kissed his wife.
Who are the new parents?
"Shut up Monkey King," she smirked.