"Mother, back from the market!"
Rushing into the small home, removing his brown cloak revealing the shiny white locks. Setting a woven basket on the table and removing his cloak. He walks further inside to see his mother coated as she slides the brush in a particular motions. Sneaking carefully up to the peaceful figure, the picture this time was a repeat of the one she first painted when she first learned how. Albeit it was much too rough to thoroughly enjoy, but as the years grew the improvement shown.
The picture was simple enough, it was just a portrait of a fairly tan skin boy. The eyes were red with sorrow and the dull red hair complied with the rest of the child's features. Truthfully the young albino recognizes that something about the kid was important. His memory isn't the best when it came to his childhood. Keeping the painful thoughts and nightmares to the darkest depths they could possibly reach and only focusing on his present state.
"Oh Robin, please say that the trade was good. Gods know no one denies that of my son's charming self." It sounded bleak, as though it was forced for the most part yet some held truth.
"Twas mother, I also managed to get some free books. The elder of the village was kind enough to offer tutoring to become a clergyman. Though I turned down the offer."
"That is for the best." She set her brush down for the time being anticipating her son to go into a frenzy of questions like he had when they moved.
Robin looked at his mother, confused on to why though deciding it was best not to go further into it. He starts fiddling with the gloves he wears. Deciding they're better off than on. He glances to the back of his right hand, memorized by the scar. Staring at the delicate lines that was lightly traces against his skin.
"Hey mother, how did I get this scar again?" Raising his hand to his mother's view.
"The dastard of a father, but do not worry for you don't hold the whole heart, no sir. The blood you carry is near pure if not actually pure. Though there is another, another child much like yourself. He holds not only the greater mount, but he is fully tainted by it. The only thing that child cared for was his brother. Yet he couldn't be saved, it would've been a manhunt for everyone if he was to have left alongside his brother." She didn't bother looking at it, as she knew the design was more of a reminder for her mistake than the child.
"How is he tainted then?" Worry for himself growing, his curiosity was getting to him.
"He is a mere pawn 'vessel for the greater life' though truthfully no one understands you were part of it. He is the heart as you are the brains. The blood that circulates through the vessels of the body is not of your blood, but it is of the Fell Dragon's blood. Yet you could say that only a small amount runs through you, but his heart, his damned heart pumps the fell blood."
Robin couldn't respond. His life started ten years ago when his mother bought this small house and learning how to grow vegetables. The villagers greeted them nicely, accepting the random movement. The breeze is nice and all that. Robin wears now long boots up to his knees, with tan pants tucked. He wears a matching shirt with a small fitting jacket. He gradually stiffened having read about the Fell Dragon, better known as Grima and with great reasoning to stiffen, he was terrified of the stories he read. Nightmares of a six winged beast cascading over the world as everything dies or kills another.
The silence has gotten the better of him and Robin retired to his desk, stacks of books were displayed on top. Leaving his mother for her to focus on the painting, he cracks one open skimming through the text over the gods of the world. Life is bizarre for the fourteen year old considering a bronze sword is always with him, but he never really knows how to use it. It just held some form of importance when ever he gazed upon it that he couldn't leave it be. He had learned to pick up tomes thinking they're the more practical defense and only true weapon he would need. Never needing to get extremely close to an enemy served its uses especially when the common thief wields a petty knife and not something overtly threatening. Yet he grows weak from the lack of energy quite often.
Regardless of the weapon he uses, this is his true life, reading to further himself. Day fading into day and not once as the desk settled with dust. Books of the vast histories of Ylisse and Plegia, myths of an outer world with the vast realms not traveled. Fantasies of time travel and romance, of great beasts and hard decisions. The bindings becoming loose from use and the etchings becoming filthy from common dirt that would rise with the winds.
Fives years, five years pass and Robin is stuck. Unable to figure out for the life of him what he desires. Laying on his mat filled with straws hay, he stares at the wood that shelters him the outside. Life has gone no where, no where he wishes for it. Judgement getting the better of the anxious adult. Sneaking out of the house as his mother slept, slips on his only true jacket and sheaths his sword. Hiding a fire tome just in case of emergencies since bandit pillages have been more and more frequent.
Robin slips into the night, walks for hours on end patrolling the Plegian-Ylissean border as if he was some grand protector. Though his hours were brief and not reaching his usual turn point that was miles from his home. He starts to feel light headed. Dizzy even. Gasping and growling as a sudden pang erupts inside his mind. Voices and other nonsensical things rush into his mind as he collapses in a heap of sweat.
On a field of green is the inky death bleeding it dry. For morning is now and the life Robin wishes for becomes a reality.
Open your eyes, learn the truth and the ways.
As his eyes opened to a new scene, one of a vast hall with two other figures in the distance fighting. Noncontrolling of his own body, Robin launched a lightning bolt in the direction of a taller and lanky fellow. The figure knocked back whilst the other man clad in white took a slash at the lanky one. The white figure was bursted back and the other raising his hand with some form of dark magic luring above.
"Die!" Releasing the magic in the direction of the man, Robin again with no control reacted with another electric spell dispaciting the dark magic. Both rushing towards the taller man, Robin now having a sword drawn charged the left as the other charged the right. Slicing through the mage.
Having to the knees the mage emitted purple. With one last urge the mage shoot a spell one aimed to the man Robin knew nothing of. Yet his body protected that man taking a severe hit. Hazed vision and then a thumping headache making his world turn red, Robin could only feel the agony. The suffering he was going through not even paying attention to that of the words being uttered from the blue haired man.
Until it hit. A fatal blow directly to the abdominal by Robin himself, leaving the other man to fall and whither has the world fades to black.
Realize your destiny!