Cradle
Two weeks after the death of Tom's mother Nikkolatta was the one that took care of the little infant and he was a joy. Usually a newborn would wail and scream on the top of their lungs but little Tom rarely had to cry. His lack of crying bothered nuns in the orphanage. Some of them thought he was sick while others thought he was evil. "I think that child might be the devil," stated one of the nuns to Nikkolatta, she was holding Tom in her arms.
"He's not the devil, Sister. He's just quiet is all," said Nikkolatta, kissing his forehead before putting back in the cradle. Once the nuns left with debates of Tom's quietness Leviathan appeared out of the shadows. Everything went quiet as Leviathan scanned the rows of cradles to find his son. He could feel their fear pressing against his body like a lover. Barely in the world and they knew what to fear, all except one.
Leviathan found his son at the end of the line of cradles. He sneered at the name of Tom R. on the front of his cradle. "Maybe one day my little Prince, you can kill Riddle for me," he said, ripping the name of Tom R. off the post and tossing it to the other side of the room. The father lifted the veil covering his son, the little infant was awake cooing once he saw the face of his father. "You knew I was coming didn't you, Ferninand?" The baby cooed in response. Tom was a too common a name. Ferninand or Fern for short had a romantic ring to it, the type of name that woman fall in love with. Leviathan also another name in mind, one that came from a tale Hades told him after his fall.
There was an angel Zeus made before you came into being. He was like Lucifer but ambitious. His name was Voldemort and he wanted Zeus to be dethroned. Voldemort almost succeeded in dethroning Zeus but his brother Poseidon trapped him in a box before the angel could kill him. Nobody knows were this box is buried but if anyone was to find it would suffer a horrible wrath from the vengeful angel.
The story had captured Leviathan's imagination for a millennia. He even tried to find this box on every corner of this world and the next but failed to find it. Leviathan may never find the Box of the Trapped Angel but, no matter, he had a secret name for the child that one day he may adopt. "Ferninand Voldemort, a perfect name to love and fear," stated Leviathan, reaching down to hold his child for the first time. Wonderfully terrible things danced through his head has he thought of his son standing on top of the suffering damned while woman cling to him admiration, of the heavens turning to dust at the will of his child. Oh, the wonderful, wonderful day that would be. The bringer of Armageddon!
He hissed in pain as electricity struck his fingers. Twice he tried to hold the child, same response. Four more times he tried with anguish and sorrow mounting. The final try ended up in tears for both sun and father. "Why!" he screamed in the darkness, only fear and silence responded back. That's when he thought about Merope. "What kind of spell have you put on our son?" he sneered, heading back into the darkness to fume is anger against his wife once she gets home. She was going to be in more hell then she already is with Lady Justine. Once he was back in the Labyrinth a choir of cries from the mouths of a hundred infants, including Tom wailed into the night. To the startled nuns, it sounded like the screams of the damned.