It was the year 9:11 Dragon and for many, life would be given and taken.
For one household, the repository of their hopes and dreams was expected at any moment. For them, a legacy would be born.
It had been a long nine months of waiting, but when the Lady Pavus gripped at her beddings in the early mornings, her hoarse voice gasping that her water had broken, the entire household knew what was happening.
The long awaited heir of the House of Pavus was finally deciding to join the world of the living.
What had once been a quiet mansion was now busting with life, servants running back and forward in order to fetch the needed items for the upcoming birth; warm water, silks, smelling salts, herbs and of course, the healers.
They all moved fast, but the child was impatient, all to eager to escape his mother's womb and see the world.
Lady Pavus was already standing when the healers arrived a mere twenty minutes after the first cry of pain had escaped her. She was supported by her servants, her face red and sweaty, fists gripping hard at the sheets as she focused on breathing.
On her husband's side of the bed the silken sheets, at least what remained of them, were blackened from a fire she had lit while the cramps took her.
Halward Pavus at least hoped it had been accidental and not his wife's intention to light him on fire.
Either way, the fire had quickly been dealt with and all the focus was brought to the birthing mother-to-be.
It wouldn't be long now.
When thinking about it, it was a miracle in itself that they were expecting.
Lord and Lady Pavus had been trying for months to conceive a child before the healers had been able to confirm the good news.
Now their little miracle was on its way and rather impatiently so, one of the healer had mused while trying to calm the worried father-to be.
Lord Pavus had chuckled, but Lady Pavus has been less than amused, screaming out a few well-chosen words in Tevene that made Lord Pavus blush on her behalf.
"It is understandable," the healer had said, giving Lord Pavus a reassuring smile.
"She is trying to press out something the size of a ball out of an opening no bigger than a copper-coin."
Halward could only sympathize with his wife. While he did not love her in the traditional sense, he still cared for her.
Time would do that.
The birth itself was a long process, even if the unborn child seemed to be impatient to see the world. Hours passed as Lady Pavus pushed, screaming out bloody murder while the healers did their best to soothe her aches and pains.
At one point she had to lay down, the exhausting clear on her face, but she was nothing if not stubborn. And Halward knew she was healthy and strong, confident that she would pull through.
Almost a full day would pass before the birth was finally over, but the result was not quite as expected.
Instead of the sound of crying from a newly born baby, only the sounds of the mother's panting and whimpers of pain were heard.
The child was silent and unmoving.
They had believed the child to be stillborn at first. The lack of crying and movement bringing a moment of horror into the household. They had tried for so long, had waited with anticipation for this moment to come, only to seemingly have it snatched away.
But then, after quick actions from healers and with a few proper slaps to the babe's backside to bring up fluids, the room was filled with the sound of loud crying.
Perhaps that is where the boy's later fascination with death came from, having been caressed by it even before he had taken his first breath of life-giving air.
Tears of joy and relief streamed down both mother and father's cheeks as the baby was cleaned with water and oils, the cord cut with a silver knife before he was wrapped in silk and handed to the mother, the healers congratulating them with their new son.
She smiled and cooed at her newborn baby-boy, and for a moment one could mistake the household of that of a proper family, with a husband and wife that loved one another and had just been blessed with a child.
"What will you name the child," the healer asked as the child was passed to Magister Pavus, allowing her to tend to the exhausted mother.
"Dorian," Magister Pavus said, looking down at the baby with a fond smile.
The boy was perfect in every way, from the stubby nose, the wisps of dark hair, the bronze skin, even the small dark beauty-mark by his right eye; a mark inherited by his mother as she had one at the same location.
Ten fingers, ten toes, two large eyes that were currently closed, a wide yawn escaping the tiny mouth.
"His name is Dorian. Dorian of house Pavus."