Twenty years ago...in the darkness of a Wasteland...
"I told you to leave her alone!" The man's voice sends shivers down the Talon's spine, and he runs for it. The camp is newly set up, the people newly acquainted with the hell that was beneath terra.
"Haydon...forget it."
Her voice seeps out from the tent, slithering like a snake.
"Master-"
"Just leave it." Another moan of pain. "Where's the doctor?"
"There are no doctors, Master." He enters, shivering at the sight of her bulging frame. She's tired, alone, and about to give birth to a baby. He wants to do something about it. But he can't.
No man could ever take the place of her...champion.
He pauses in the doorway, unsure as to what he should do.
"Go...go and get someone who knows how to deliver a damn child," she barks. Energy bubbles up, then dies down, lower than ever. He bows and runs out the door. He curses to himself. He should know better.
No one volunteers at first; the Master is known for her outbursts of anger, but he assures them that she is in no state to start killing anyone yet. So a shy young girl named Merideth, who was once a mid wife's daughter, is led to the tent and taken inside.
"Anything you need?" he asks.
"A bowl of water, some soap, and...towels. Please. And then...you need to leave." The girl stared at him with fiery eyes. Behind her calm and quiet exterior was an inner fire. He complied.
The materials were brought, the tent flap closed, and the two women left to their tasks.
Haydon waited outside. Pacing. Pacing. The earth was rugged, the skies green, and he hated it.
Screams started to resound from the tent. He tried to block them out. More screams. A low moan. Someone telling someone else to calm down, push, push... Oh so disgusting. This was why he'd never have children. He didn't even see the point. But this was king of Cyclonia they were discussing, even if Cyclonia didn't exist. And he needed to be here.
It felt like days, but there was a cry, and it sounded so comforting. A baby's shriek. The tent flap finally opened, and the girl came out, a thin mist of blood on her sleeves and shirt. She looked tired. Her hair dangled in thin locks across her face.
"You can see her if you want. I've cleaned up. And...he's healthy." She left him with a swelling feeling of admiration and annoyance.
"Haydon?" A voice from within the tent.
She sounded happy. "Yes, Master?"
"I'd like a moment alone, please."
And he leaves her with the child.
OOO
He's beautiful, he's warm, and he's hers.
His eyes are closed, but she knows they are red, glistening, glistening red, and she holds him close to her chest so that he can feel her heartbeat.
He's done nursing. He's actually asleep, for a change. She smiles at him, at the delicate curve of his face, at the pale white skin and thin layer of black hair, curling over his head. She runs her fingers through it. He's so like his father.
His father.
The baby gurgles with curiosity, his eyelids opening slowly. Unusual for infants. And he stares into the darkness, pale hands reaching up for his mother.
Somewhere in the distance, people laughing, cheering at the birth of a new king. Deep inside, they have nothing to cheer for. They are here, in the Wastelands, and you don't get much lower than that.
He's only a child. But he will receive her empire...and he will have to do it soon.
On him, rides the hopes and dreams of a thousand generations. He will be the wings on which her kingdom will soar once more.
"Hush, Nightwing. Hush." She smiles. He closes his eyes again, leaning against her, his heartbeat thumping. "You will redeem our family's name. You will avenge your father's death." She closes her eyes, and a single tear finds its way to her cheek.
"Cyclonia will rise again...under your command."