"So the boy has not said a word?"
"Nope."
Abbot Francisco and Brother David, a monk at Maella Abbey responsible for the children, watched their newest charge. A young boy of around eight with onyx black hair and eyes of jade sat in the grass along the river. He was watching the water pass with a solemn look on his face, absentmindedly twirling a flower.
Brother David's face grew heavy with his mixed emotions. "So he just… left, his child here? His son?" Anger, sorrow, sympathy and more showed on the monk's face. He shook his head. The Abbot next to him watched the boy in question. His face never did reveal all that he felt or thought, only a divine grace that came with age, and only then to those who accepted it.
"It would appear so. His wife unexpectedly provided him with a 'legitimate' heir, so it is of no concern to him that the boy's mother is dead." The monk beside him scoffed, disgusted.
"The man laid with her, she bore his child! That can't mean nothing!" With a gesture from the Abbot, David lowered his voice. "He cannot be so heartless…"
Abbot Francisco merely shook his head. "He can if he so chooses. That is for him to decide. All we can do is decide how we respond in the care of young Marcello." Abbot Francisco gave a wan smile as Marcello popped the head of the flower into the river. Brother David slowly nodded at the Abbot's words, and, after one last look at Marcello, turned to attend to the other children.
Marcello was alone. He knew that much. His father had abandoned him and his mother. His mother hand grown ill. His mother had died. When the town guards who had buried his mother because no one else claimed her presented him to his father, he turned his head and closed the door. A warm light cast out into the night where Marcello stood, dumbstruck. Inside, he could see his "other" mother, his father's wife, with a young babe in her arms. It was his half brother, Angelo. It was the "real" son. The one he'd been picked over for. The one his mother had died because of. The one his father now shunned him in favor of. That half brother. The one that ruined his life.
The dandelion head flew off and into the river. Marcello gripped the remaining stem tightly in rage, it's sour juices stinging the already dirty cuts on his hand. He cast the green stem aside and moved to stand. Peering around the grassy side of the abbey where he was, he spotted a tree. With nothing else to do here, and not yet feeling brave enough to venture inside, Marcello ambled over to the wizened old oak tree. It towered above him, it's branches brushing across the top of the abbey as it swayed. Marcello began to climb it. Nearing the top, Marcello met with a bit of a surprise. A bird. A beautiful, glowing bird of gold. It did not take a person of great intellect to tell this was no ordinary bird. The bird actually had a decent amount of size to it, about big enough for Marcello to ride it. As Marcello began to inch closer, it twitched it's head in his direction. From such a big and obviously extraterrestrial bird, this small action gave Marcello quite a start. His foot slipped, and, unable to regain his footing, he began to fall. His stomach lurched in terror as he began to increase speed. Branches collided with him again and again, but not enough to save him from his decent. Just as his stomach contracted and eyes closed tight in anticipation, a sudden gust followed by light, weightless softness enveloped him. Marcello thought at first that he had died. Then he allowed his eyes to open and saw the golden plumage surrounding him.
Sitting up ever so slowly, Marcello balanced himself and peered over. He saw the ground he was supposed to collide with, now a distant nightmare. The oak he had fallen from, the abbey he had been dumped at, all seemed like nothing from the height he now soared at.
And he wasn't afraid.
The great, golden bird he sat atop turned it's head long enough to look at Marcello before turning to descend upon the abbey. Marcello could have sworn that it had given him a warm smile.
Landing in the same patch of grass the boy had been playing in only minutes before, the great bird let go a gentle cry. Marcello slipped gently off her wings. He turned to his savior. "Thank you." The first words he'd spoken since his mother's death. Again, she gave a look that gave off warmth and spread happiness through him. Smiling timidly, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her neck. She nuzzled into his embrace. After stepping back a safe distance, the great bird spread her wings and took flight. After watching her leave, and then staring at the empty sky for some time after, Marcello ran up the steps to the abbey side door.
Abbot Francisco stood in front of the window, peering outside. The door into the courtyard burst open and young Marcello ran in. The abbot laughed at his sudden change in energy. Hopefully, the stoic boy would direct some of that energy towards making friends. As if hearing the abbot's thoughts, Marcello turned towards the man. He smiled. Walking up to the abbot, Marcello bowed. "Hello, Father, my name is Marcello. I'm new here. What is your name?" Abbot Francisco replied in kind. The boy's eyes widened in realization at who he was talking to. His fears were dispelled quickly as the old holy man held out his hand, offering to show where in the kitchen the cookies were kept. Marcello hesitated for a moment, before grinning and taking his hand.
Empyrea watched from above, a smile on her face warmer than the sun.
*I know Empyrea is pretty and purple, but gold works better in my story should I write another Dragon Quest VIII fic.