Thank you to my amazing beta disturbinglyprofound who also helped me to come up with this title.
I own nothing but my OC's
Prologue
It was a cold November night in a hospital that had seen better days. The windows were closed, but the brisk winter breeze was still managing to get inside. There was no heating, just as there were no locks on the windows. This was why a five year old boy was able to enter the nursery. He looked through all the cribs until he found one with a small girl, only a few weeks old, that had been born premature. She had pale skin, a small, elegant nose, and blue eyes so dark that they seemed almost black. She was a beautiful little girl, one who would be alone when she faced the world. The boy shook his head. Not if he could help it.
He took the small girl, wrapped her in a ratty old blanket and carried her out of the hospital. He ran into an alleyway and turned, whispering over and over again under his breath, "Somewhere she can be safe. Somewhere she can be loved."
With that he turned and disappeared on the spot.
A couple of around thirty years old was taking a walk through the garden of a French manor when they saw a young boy appear just outside of their gates.
"Qu'est-ce que tu pence il fait ici?" the woman asked the man. [What do you think he's doing here?]
"Je ne sais pas, ma chérie. Vous voulez le voir?" [I don't know, my dear. Would you like to approach him?]
"Oui," said the woman, looking deeply concerned.
They started to walk to the gates, and when they were within five metres of it, the gates opened up to reveal that the little boy was holding a bundle, in which a baby girl was nestled. The woman gasped and began moving faster. The man followed close behind, murmuring under his breath.
"Bonjour, mon garçon, comment ça va?" said the woman, her hand on the boy's shoulder. She knew now was not a good time for pleasantries, not when a dirty, unkempt little boy was carrying a baby in his hands and there were no adults about.
"Hello ma'am. I'm sorry, but I don't speak any French," the boy replied politely. She nodded.
"That's fine, son," said the man. "Would you mind telling us why are you here by yourself, so late at night?"
"Do you like children?" the boy said instead.
"Well, yes, but..." the woman was confused.
"Would you ever hurt a child?" he demanded.
"No" the woman said, affronted at the very thought.
Neither of the adults noticed the pale blue light growing around them as they spoke.
"Would you love an adopted child as your very own?"
"Yes. But –"
"Do you want a daughter?" the boy asked finally.
"Yes," said the woman wholeheartedly. Her husband looked bewildered for a moment, about to ask the question he had been trying to ask for the entire conversation.
The boy then moved the bundle closer to his face and whispered.
"Goodbye, Annabel, I love you." The child kissed the baby on the head before placing her carefully in the women's arms. He ran back a ways before either of them could do or say anything, and then the boy disappeared into the night.
"Garde, viens ici" the man called. [Guard, come here.]
"Oui, majesté." [Yes, your Majesty.]
"Go find the Potions mistress and have her brew us the Blood Adoption Potion for our new daughter. Also, get someone to prepare a nursery for her. Then, when you're finished, find out all you can about this boy," he commanded, pulling out his memory of the boy who had just visited and putting it into a vial.
As the servants ran about, obeying their master's orders, the couple walked back to their palace to show off their little princess.
The boy reappeared under the cover of trees by an old, rundown house. A person standing at the end of the street would be able to hear the man inside this house, cursing and throwing things about violently. With one last deep breath, the boy crawled through the hole in a basement window and hid behind some boxes until his drunken father passed out, and when it would be safe for the boy to return to his shabby, filthy little room.