Disclaimer : I do not own any hero of the Inheritance Cycle.

A/N : This story is dedicated to my most favorite writer. The one, I admire for his writing style – that's why the name 'Strong-Pen'. To Restrained Freedom for his healing story 'An Enemy's Heart'. May he finds the time and courage to finish it.

In a high and mighty castle there is a lonely child who sits and watches from the window of his room the outside, forbidden world. He seeks his mother's coming and craves for her tenderness, although he doesn't know that this will be their last time together. Strength, mightiness and power mark his future, but even the strongest, fearless and most powerful man once was a helpless infant and a weak child.

The Mother and The Son.

For quite some time the child had occupied his usual position, the wide sill of the window in his chamber. During the last six months, every morning, afternoon and sometimes even at night, he would climb on this sill and with hopeful eye he would watch the cart road leading to the castle, waiting for her to be back.

When he started this habit of his, Nanny was angry. She scolded him many times for just sitting there, doing nothing and letting the most useful hours of his days pass into laziness and idly. So did the Teacher, who had already started to teach him how to write his letters and how to read a few of the books from the enormous bookcase of the castle.

But, as Nanny was most of the time angry against him, and the Teacher seemed never to be happy with anyone or anything he paid them not the least bit of attention.

And, over time, they got used to this situation, not only Nanny and the Teacher but all the other staff in the castle. Servants, maids, cooks and the rest, from the top retainer to the last stable boy, all of them got accustomed to seeing the lonely child climb onto the windowsill of his room and watch the road, the distant fields, the lanes among them, waiting and waiting …

'She should never have told him she would be back. If the Mistress had not promised him, he would have forgotten her by now.' It was this that Nanny used to complain about, insisting that during all her Mistress' previous visits the child had never shown such anxiety and worry. And as nobody ever knew her whereabouts and her time of return, she should have kissed her son goodbye and just leave, allowing them to do their tasks.

But the Teacher had another opinion.

'The boy is an intelligent child, and as he is getting older, it is doubtful that he could possibly forget her. It is natural for a child to seek his mother.'

To that, Nanny used to state nothing, not willing to argue with the Teacher – an educated man, who knew how to read and write. She would just shake her head and murmur that the boy was hardly three years of age that she, herself, was the one to raise him that he had barely known his mother that his own father had once tried to ... God forbid!

Nanny might not be particularly fond of Morzan's child since this boy was the reason she had been deprived of her baby-daughter for about three years, but she detested the mistreatment of any child, and this one had been born under an unlucky star.

The woman was obliged to live in the castle, tied with strong magic bonds there, while her little girl was left behind, being raised by her sister in a nearby village. Soon after his son's birth, Morzan had forced her in his castle and service because, having had a baby herself, she was with plenty of milk in her breasts. But the Master had compensated by paying her in gold, something very important for her family's survival.

She might not have been very fond of the boy, but she had fed him with her milk, she had held him in her arms, she had cured him during childhood illnesses, she was taking good care of him. So, in time, a kind of a relation had been established between them. She was proud of herself, having done her duty to her Master and Mistress, he had become accustomed to her caring for him.

And the boy in her charge was a malleable kind of child. He was healthy, he was never asked or demanded anything, he would eat and drink whatever he was offered, he was mostly silent. His usual daily activities were either his books or the toys in his chamber, or a few rare rambles when he was allowed in the courtyard, always under the supervision of an adult.

But when the Master was in the castle, or during his mother's rare visits, everything changed. The silent child held more spirit, he was eager to do things he otherwise never used to do, and he wanted to spend all the hours of the day under the presence and care of his mother. And during one of their last visits to the castle the Lord, under one of his many drunken rages, had thrown his sword at his own son, as he had run by. The child was lucky that there was a healer nearby, and he had kept him from dying. But a long, wide, knotted scar had remained on his tiny back, marking his little body from the right shoulder to the left hip.

Nanny knew very well how much pain the boy endured on an everyday basis because of this mistreatment. When the weather was cold or rainy or just changing, she watched him purse his little lips and close tightly his dark, brown eyes, imprisoning the pain to his core. And, sometimes, even the slightest excess of activity had the same result on him. The healer had assured her that in time, this ordeal would cease, eventually the nerves of his back would be cured, but for now ... And additionally, the child had been marked for life.

And it was less than two weeks ago when, during one of this pain attacks, she had found him lying on the floor of his room gasping, his fists clenched tightly on his eyes. But he didn't cry. He would never cry, and for that, Nanny was grateful. She was obliged to raise or cure his body, not his emotions.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Nanny entered the boy's chamber, finding him seated cross legged at his usual place, the sill of his window.

'Child, I've called you, but you haven't answered. Your Teacher has waited for you in the study room all afternoon and …'

She watched the child tense on the sill, looking out of the window with wide open eyes, then in an instant he jumped down and started running to the exit, then again returned to have a better look. Finally, he rushed out of the room, despite her trying to catch him, and he flew down the wide, marble stairs, shouting.

'… coming … coming … coming!'

Halfway down the stairs, he almost fell on a maid who was carrying a pile of linen upstairs.

'Young master, watch your step!' the girl protested annoyed, for the boy did something he never used to do. He paid her no attention, as if he hadn't seen her.

'Mommy, mommy! She is coming!... Coming!'

On the ground floor he stumbled onto the Teacher, the man with a permanent, sour expression of disapproval on his face. He bypassed him, hurriedly making for the exit but the Teacher managed to stop him, grabbing him from the collar of his tunic.

'Young man, where do you think you are going?'

'Let go of me!' the child protested. 'Mommy is coming!' and he tried hard to rush to the front door.

From the top of the stairs Nanny saw the Teacher restraining the boy, as the other servants and maids were gathering, attracted by the fuss.

The woman returned to the child's room and glanced out the window. In the dusk, falling across the outskirts of the forest, she noticed a woman's form, trudging down on the distant road. The woman was far enough still to be recognized but she could not be a supplier from the village. Nanny was sure of this because she carried no basket or something. The stranger was coming empty-handed. Could it be? Her Mistress, returning on foot and alone?

Downstairs the commotion grew louder. The child was practically shrieking and the Teacher's voice stood out from all the others, now scolding him for good. Nanny decided that time had come for her to take over. But before she left the room, she saw the woman sitting exhausted on a nearby log, midway to the castle. Whoever she might be, her Mistress or someone else, she had to make it on her own. The staff and she, herself were all bound by magic; none could go out to help her.

Nanny descended and, through all the gathered servants, she reached the centre of the racket.

'Easy, child, you're creating too much noise for nothing.' The boy seeing her, managed to escape his Teacher's hands, and grabbed her from her starched, white apron.

'Mommy is coming! Let me out Nanny, let me go to her! Please, Nanny, please! I'll be good, I promise! I'll no more keep you away from your baby. Please!'

It was obvious that the child was in hysterical condition. She knelt before him, holding him tightly from his small shoulders.

'If the Mistress is coming, then she will be here soon; do you want your mother to see you like this? Upset and angry?'

Those words seemed to calm him a bit. Nanny stood and tried to lead the child to a nearby room, but he refused to leave the main entrance. Nevertheless, he stood still, eyes fixed on the great, double, oaken doors, his fists clenched tightly.

Nanny knew very well that no one – except Master himself and Mistress – could get inside the castle. It wasn't for any guard, nor for the massive steel doors, but for the strong, magic spells that obstructed and prevented strangers from crossing the outer gates into the yard.

A few minutes passed, and then another few. For the moment, the child stood in a silent alarm and, as Nanny had managed to calm him, nobody else dared to speak a word around them. And within this ambivalent truce, none thought to open the doors leading from the outer yard to the main entrance of the hall, or go and look outside.

The heavy doors prevented them from hearing the noise of light footsteps, ascending the marble stairs outside. The hinges creaked, as the doors opened widely, and that was what informed them all of the stranger's presence. And, suddenly, there she stood in the entrance. Her rich clothes were worn, the hem of her skirts was drenched and muddy, her abundant hair hung loose, matted on her back. Her always tender cheeks looked wilted, her dark brown, once bright eyes as if they had lost their light. But she was smiling.

He didn't notice her once cute dimples, already turning to wrinkles and the circles under her tired eyes, nor her sunken, pale cheeks or her hunched form.

She opened her arms to hold him, and as he jumped onto her and hanged over her with both his hands and legs, his whole being became a single word.

'Mommy!'

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The mother was lying on a daybed on the porch of the first floor, with the afternoon sun frolicking on her loose hair. The boy, climbed on her lap, had long since fallen asleep, his cheek resting on her chest, listening to her heart beats, her hand touching slightly his knotted scar over his shirt. She smiled, looking at the light burden on her bosom, and softly kissed his brown, silken hair. She felt relieved that she was there, with him, after so much time they had been separated. She leaned forward, touching his neck with her lips and breathed deeply his childish odor, letting the scent fill her lungs. She had missed this. All this long time she had spent away, as well as all the other, previous times, this was the one thing she missed the most. Since the first moment she had brought him to life and held him in her arms, his scent fascinated her. Even though she was not allowed with him most of the time, this little being, this child had changed her life, her heart and mind, her whole existence. He was hers. A piece of her body, a part of her soul.

She had been deprived of him for so many months and she was feeling guilty about it. It was not Morzan's fault this time, it was her own mistakes, her own twisted heart, who had loved a man, a stranger, more than her own son. Every time she looked back at her life, she could see only mistakes. The last one, the worst of all. She had abandoned her second son, as she had done with her first.

But what was done was done, she could not change the past, neither her wrong decisions, nor her deeds. As for the last one, she was convinced she had chosen the best solution. The baby would live a secure life with her brother. Her sister-in-law was a good woman who would take good care of him.

She tried to forget about this second baby, and concentrated to the child on her lap. She kissed again his soft hair, thus waking him up. The boy smiled and yawned, rubbing his eyes with his small fists.

'Mommy?'

'Yes, my angel?'

'You didn't tell me about the forest …'

'I was about to tell you, but you fell asleep.'

'Tell me again, mommy!'

And she told him. She told him about the deep, wide forest with its enormous trees. About the eerie sounds, heard during the dark, moonless nights, coming out of the haze. About the leaves of the maple tree, turning golden during the end of the summer – the boy was born at the end of the summer and was always fascinated by the red-golden maple leaves. She told him about the Lady Elf, who lives in the heart of a giant tree and dominates the whole forest around. And he marveled at her stories and pleaded with her to sing for him the old song she used to sing him good-night, although it was early in the afternoon. And when he persuaded her to do so, he united his childish, crystal voice with hers, and they sang together, this song and then another and one more.

This was the sixth day since the mother's returning to the castle. She had rested, bathed, eaten, slept and had any luxury the mansion could provide. She should have recovered by now. But she hadn't. She was feeling weak, her arms and legs heavy, a slight morning fever, turning more serious at nights, devouring her minimal residual strength. And it was the pain too, a constant, torturing pain inside her womb. She could only make it from her bed to this sunbathed couch and back to her bed again.

She rejected the thought of sending for a healer because she wouldn't let anyone find out that the cause of her debility was her recent childbirth. Same as, back at her brother's, she had refused the help of a midwife – who would very possibly realize that this childbirth was not her first, and had delivered the baby only with Marian's help. Could this be the cause of her sickness? A puerperal fever maybe? Or was it the fact that she had lost all she loved and hoped for? This man, his baby, her dreams for a better life … She was desperate … heartbroken … and … were all these symptoms a warning for her upcoming death? So soon … so young …

'Mommy?'

The child on her lap attracted her attention from her morbid thoughts. Her son was all that was left to her. But for how long? When Morzan came back, he would separate them again. She had no choice in the matter. If she could, she would have taken him with her. But the child was bonded by strong magic in this cursed castle, like all the servants. Only a few trusted by Morzan could enter, and they had gone away with him.

'Yes, my angel?'

'Can we go for a walk down, in the yard?' She smiled bitterly.

'No, dear. I'm still so tired, perhaps tomorrow.' The child frowned.

'At least, can we go to my room and play there with my toys?'

This was definitely something they could do.

Later that night, they both fell asleep, embraced on the floor of the boy's room, their mattress the soft carpet. Nanny's plump form appeared in the small hours and lifted the child to his bed, waking her Mistress to go to hers. In the next few hours the sun would rise, and the fever would make its strongest attack.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

'Child, what are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to stay in your room?'

Nanny was angry. She, along with some other maids, was taking care of her Mistress, while the last one was lying febrile in her bed. It was more than a week she had fallen out with a tenacious fever and she was growing steadily worse. What was more, she had refused the help of a healer – if one could be found in the nearby villages – pretending that she was unable to use words which would permit a servant to go out of the castle and come back with the healer. And the maids, servants and Nanny herself could only offer worthless help and comfort to her serious state.

Nanny was angry because the child, in spite of her exhortation and advice, refused to remain in his own room but he used to spend every hour of his days and nights in his mother's. There wasn't any indication that this illness was contagious but without the help of a healer, who could possibly know? And if the boy was affected, the Master would kill them all.

'I want to be with mommy!' said the boy with an insolent tone in his voice and stubbornly escaped her and climbed on her Mistress' bed, grabbing her arm firmly and finding tolerance by her side.

The woman was half conscious most of the time but it seemed that the boy's presence revived her, even for a while.

'Let him stay … Nanny … please …' she murmured and took hold of the child.

'As you wish, madam.' Nanny curtsied and got out of the room offended, leaving the maid to look after mother and son. If the Master was here …. But if he was here he would have probably cured her Mistress by now. And as she passed the long corridor, making for the kitchens, her worry returned. If the Mistress died … if the child in her charge was affected too…

The boy relaxed in his mother's embrace. He pressed his little body on hers and felt her high temperature through his tunic and shirt. Mommy's body was practically burning hot. He felt worried. Since that night mommy had fallen asleep on the floor of his chamber, she hadn't made it to get out of her bed. In the beginning, she had reassured him that the next day she would be better, that the day after they would visit their beloved place again, the couch on the sunbathed porch, and the next one they would go for a walk in the yard. But the days had just passed the one after the other and mommy wasn't any better.

Not standing her overheated body against his own, the boy sat cross-legged by her side and leaning on top of her, watched her feverish face. Her cheeks held a rosy colour – wasn't this an omen of recovery? The maid changed the wet towel on her brow with a new, cool one. Mommy couldn't focus on him all the time but now she opened her eyes and smiled.

'My angel …'

She lifted her palm exhausted, and cupped his cheek with tenderness. She couldn't sing to him anymore – her sharp, short breaths came out with difficulty – so he decided to entertain her himself.

First she told her the story he had recently read with the help of the Teacher. The story of a boy like himself who, with the company of his dog and a gift of three wishes, travelled all over the world before he returned to his home again. Then, he sang her their song and she seemed relaxed and smiled at him again. And finally, he talked about his toys, about some strange tiny soldiers, who had the bad habit of escaping from their box, and strolling around his room at nights, fighting one another.

At that moment, mommy was calm and asleep, night had fallen outside the window, he had settled down near her to rest and his eyes were already closing. But in a short while, mommy was restless and he sat again and watched her. She had started speaking strange words, like eegon, and he couldn't make out what she wanted. The maid had fallen asleep on a chair, so he could not ask her if she had understood. But whatever this strange thing might be, he would find out tomorrow. He would ask mommy to tell him about it and he would bring it to her, so she would be happy.

He wanted to calm her again and he lay down by her side and held her tightly. He did not realise how time passed, but suddenly the room was filled with people and a commotion was occurring around him. A maid lifted his little body from his mother's bed and led him to his room.

'It is time for you to sleep, young master. Please stay in here.'

The maid put him in his bed and left. He was dizzy and tired, but the previous ado left him suspicious and puzzled. As soon as the girl exited, he followed her at a distance in the corridor and through the half opened door of his mother's room, he took a peek inside.

He couldn't see her on the bed because it seemed like all the women of the castle were standing around it, some of them talking and arguing, some others strolling around the room, and others doing curious things. When a couple of them exited in a hurry and another entered with a pack of towels in her arms, he sneaked inside and secretly crept under her bed.

Hidden down there, he watched during the night the to and fros of their feet, their murmurs, as others were involved with mommy and others with various, nonsensical things. Nanny was there too, among them. He heard her giving orders to the maids and noticed the hem of her long, always starched, white apron near the bed. For a moment he saw a man's boots approaching, and recognized the voice of the retainer. What was he doing in mommy's bedroom? What was everyone else doing?

What seemed like hours passed. He dozed on the floor and suddenly a maid shrieked, muffled instantly by the others. He heard Nanny scolding the girl. Another one was crying softly. He felt a chill to his core. All these people would be an annoyance to mommy. They had sent him away and they came in here doing … what?

With wide open eyes, he watched the to and fros starting once again. Two or three more men entered for a while and then left again. So did the maids, one after the other. Nanny and a couple of girls stayed for a little longer, murmuring to each other things he could not understand, and suddenly even this small commotion stopped abruptly. The room was empty.

He dared come out of his hiding place and immediately he looked at her. Mommy was sleeping quietly. He climbed onto the bed to have a better look. Curious thing, her face was covered with a silken veil. Wouldn't this prevent her already short breath? He leaned on her and lifted the veil revealing her face. She was calm and didn't hold this rosy look any more. He touched her cheek and it was cooler. The fever was gone!

Not wanting to disturb her, he lay quietly by her side and held her softly, kissing her shoulder. Tomorrow mommy would be all right. She could be out of bed and sit with him on the couch of the porch, they would possibly go for a walk in the yard, and maybe, in a few days, in the nearby forest. He smiled happily. He was content.

When he opened his eyes again, the soft light of dawn filled the room. He sat abruptly and looked at mommy. She was so serene, she hadn't moved at all.

'Mommy?' He touched her cheek slightly with his little palm. She was cold now, perhaps she needed a blanket. He looked around not finding something to cover her.

'Mommy, are you feeling cold?' He asked with care, but he received no answer.

'Shall we go out today? Shall we sit again under the sun together? This will warm you.' Now his voice was filled with hope. But she remained silent.

He nudged her shoulder and when nothing occurred, he shoved her harder.

'Mommy … mommy!'

'Child! Why are you here?' Nanny's upset voice made him jolt. She was standing astounded at the entrance of the room. He jumped off the bed and approached her.

'Nanny, mommy is not talking to me … ', there was a simultaneously sad and scared look on his childish face. She sighed and held both his small shoulders.

'I know child, she cannot talk to you.'

'Will she talk to me tomorrow?' The child looked her straight in the eye, a hopeful tone in his voice.

She knew very well that he was begging for a consolation, but she could not offer one.

'I'm sorry, child, she'll never talk to you again.'

'Never? Why? Is it because I've done something wrong?' He seemed upset now.

Nanny knelt before him, her face serious, dejected.

'You must understand, young one, your mother is dead.' The hue of her voice had turned as tender as possible. The child looked puzzled.

'What does dead mean, Nanny?'

The woman swallowed with earnest patience. The child might have hardly known his mother, but she was his mother after all.

'It means that your mother will never breathe again, never eat, drink of talk again. Her life has ended and because nobody can do something about it, you have to accept it.'

The child gazed at her speechless for a while, with wide open eyes.

'Like the bird on the sill?' Last winter, one morning, the child had found a bird on the sill of his window. At the beginning he thought that it was just frozen and dizzy, so he had picked it up inside, put it under his quilt and tried hard to revive it. When it was obvious that the bird was dead, Nanny took it and threw it into the rubbish heap. In the beginning the child had protested, but when he understood he could do nothing against Nanny's will, he had followed her and had spent all his afternoon, watching the rubbish barrel, in case the bird lived.

'Yes, child. Like that bird.'

The words were not hard spoken, or with an intention to hurt him, but their downright meaning caused a cold feeling inside him. He let his hands and head hung idle, his gaze fixed at the tips of his shoes. Mommy was never going to talk to him again, neither smile nor hold him in her arms and kiss him. She would never sing to him goodnight, she was never even supposed to come back to see him. Never … never … never … The repetition of this word caused him more numbness, and he would have collapsed, if Nanny hadn't held him in her arms.

'Come, child, we must get ready for the funeral.'

'What is a funeral, Nanny?' He followed her obediently, leaning dazed on her side, as her hand supportively held his shoulder, leading him to his chamber. The strange cold feeling was already descending from his chest to his stomach.

'We will pay our last respects to our Mistress, and you will tell your last goodbye to your mother.'

Last … last … last … The word hammered at his temples as he leaned forward and vomited pure bile. His knees gave in and he knelt on the cold marble floor of the corridor. He would not remember clearly what happened next but, in a haze, Nanny took him to his room and took care of him, as a maid was tasked to clean the mess.

Many years later, when, as an adult, he would return to the deserted castle, in front of the entrance of his mother's room, he would notice on the worn, blackened floor the whitened stain of this old weakness. What the acidic fluids of his stomach, caused by this early pain, had left on the marble.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Hours later, mommy was lying on a makeshift bed in the middle of the great hall of the castle. She was beautifully dressed in silken dresses, trimmed with golden lace and pearls. Her hair, plaited in two long braids, fastened with silver brooches, framed her pale face. It was the middle of the spring and the flowers she so much loved decorated her pillow. In her hands she was holding a bundle of roses.

Most staff of the castle were present, standing around the room, dressed in mourning outfits and having sad looks on their faces. He noticed a couple of maids, with tears in their eyes.

He was sitting alone on a chair, next to mommy's left shoulder, an empty chair – Master's chair – to her right. Father would be angry! He would drink, he would shout at everyone, he would rage …

He tried not to think about him and concentrated on her hands, holding the roses. He would prefer mommy to hold his hand and not the flowers, but Nanny had said he should not touch his mommy any more. Nanny had dressed him in dark garments, had combed his hair and using a black ribbon she had tied it at the base of his neck in a short pony-tail. And she had made him promise he would be calm and quiet because mommy would not like him to cause any trouble during her last day in the mansion. Her burial – whatever it might be – was about to take place in the afternoon, before sunset.

He shoved his hand inside his pocket, fumbling to find the folded piece of paper which he had hidden there earlier. With his poor handwriting, he had managed to sketch a letter for mommy. Now he was looking for an opportunity to hide this note someplace in her garments. Someplace, where mommy could find it and read it. Teacher had mentioned something about a long journey mommy had to go alone, and a place where she would meet important people, much more important than the King himself. And when Nanny had enumerated all those things mommy would never do again, she hadn't mentioned mommy couldn't read. So, if she had to go to this long journey alone, perhaps, if she would find his letter and read it, she would know how much he loved her. How much he cherished for every time, every moment they had spent together and she would not feel alone.

He looked around him, seeking an opportunity to pass his letter to her, his hand already starting for hers, but he saw many pairs of eyes fixed on him, so he drew back on his chair and stayed still.

In a short while, a young servant entered the hall, and with cautious steps he approached the top retainer and whispered to him for a few moments. The child noticed the old man nodding to a couple of others and all together left towards the exit. In a few minutes some other men followed with a couple of older women at their heels, leaving the rest inside. It was early in the afternoon and the oblique rays of the sun entering from the windows illuminated and warmed the frozen hall.

Outside the retainer watched with anticipation the road leading to the castle. He was sure that his Master – sensing the tragic event in his domain – would return and had tasked this young servant to watch the road from the outer walls of the castle and inform him.

'And isn't the Master among them?' he asked feeling sure about it. After all, this was not the usual way the Rider returned home. The retainer shaded his eyes with his palm, to look better into the distance.

'No, sir, I can tell a squad of empire soldiers and a couple of civilians.' The young man had a sharp eye. 'Magicians, by their robes, I would say.'

The servants watched the horsemen galloping on the dirt road, heading towards the castle, a cloud of dust rising from the hooves of their horses.

'If they have no orders by our Master, then they cannot enter.' Said the retainer, but he gathered the men by his side on the outer marble stairs, waiting for the squad.

The resounding gallop must have been heard inside, for in a while more men were added to the first group. A few older women followed timidly.

The riders, under the command of a captain, came to the front of the gates and there they stopped. The retainer felt a shiver in his spine, as he watched the two magicians come down of their horses, unite their heads, and begin to chant words of significant power. He saw the massive gates moving inwards and all the intruders entering the inner yard. With long strides the retainer approached the captain of the squad as he dismounted and bowed to him.

'My Lord, I presume you have orders for me, from my Master.'

The captain threw him one haughty glance.

'Your master is dead. I follow the King's orders.' He paused for a moment, examining the impression his words caused to the servants. The men shivered, looking to one another, a woman gasped, a few murmurs were heard.

'Bring the woman named Selena in front of me.' The captain demanded with hard voice. 'And her son!'

The retainer stiffened.

'I'm sorry Lord, my Mistress died last night. Her funeral is arranged on this afternoon.'

'Your … what?'

In an instant the captain lost all his bravado. The fearsome, mighty Morzan married? And with a son? He had never heard about it. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously; maybe this servant was lying to him for some reason. But then again, he noticed the mourning garments, the sullen, dismal glances and understood. He looked around him and saw the two magicians unite their bald heads once again, probably communicating with each other. Obviously the news made them pay extra attention to these new facts. The captain frowned. Those two did their best to cause disgusting feelings to whoever they associated with. He hoped never to meet them again after this mission.

'I want to see this!' he demanded, turning towards the retainer.

As the gathered servants stepped aside, the retainer led the captain inside the hall, where the body of his Mistress was lying on her last bed. He stood in the entrance for a few moments, his eyes fixed first on the body of the woman, then on the tiny child, who gazed at him with astonishment. He didn't remove his helm which covered part of his face; he was not here to pay his respect to the dead. He was following the King's orders. He had to hurry, he was already late.

'Prepare the body of the woman and the child. They are both coming with me to Urû'baen.' He ordered in a loud voice.

On his words a fuss occurred in the hall. He saw the boy stand and turn towards a plump woman, all dressed in black, with a long white apron, who instantly came to him and held both his small shoulders protectively.

'Now!' the captain commanded with a decisive voice.

The retainer tried to protest.

'My Lord, everything is ready for the burial …'

'The King's orders!' the captain interrupted him. 'I presume you have a coffin ready? Or is there a crypt where you would place your Mistress?'

'No my Lord. No crypt. My Master had no such needs,' said the retainer, bowing to him again.

'Then I'll send two soldiers to the nearest village, to commandeer a cart for the woman's coffin.'

'It will not be necessary, my Lord,' the retainer said. 'You will find the cart that you need in the stables.'

'Good! The boy will ride my horse, in front of me,' stated the captain looking at the child, who had sought protection behind the woman's skirts; his voice turned more friendly. 'Woman! Prepare your young master. He is coming with me!'

The boy grabbed the woman's white apron and looked at her with panic.

'Nanny!'

She held him protectively.

'Be strong, child, you have to go with the soldiers. You will have to meet the King.'

'I want to be with mommy!'

'She will come along, child.'

Distressed, the boy saw four servants bring in a long, empty box and, as Nanny withdrew with him in a corner, they placed mommy inside it, her beautiful flowers scattered around the floor. Then they closed the box with mommy inside, put it on their shoulders and made for the exit.

'No! … Mommy! … No! Where are you taking her? … Mommy!' He tried to follow, but Nanny's hands stopped him.

'Easy, child …'

He escaped her grip and ran speedily towards the exit, trying to catch the servants. As he was passing by the captain, the man grasped the boy's tunic with a jolt of his hand to withhold him.

'Let me go to her!' the boy shrieked. 'Mommy … mommy!'

As he was struggling to escape, the soft material of the tunic was torn open, revealing his bare back. His scar was in plain sight for the captain to see it.

'Gods above! What is this?' He immobilized the child and stared at his wound with wide open eyes.

The Twin magicians uniting their heads once again and having evil grimaces on their faces watched the child with rising interest. The woman, called by the boy 'Nanny', came in front of the captain to claim him.

'Please, my Lord. He has just lost his mother, he is upset.'

The captain nodded and released the child, who sought refuge in her arms.

'Just prepare him for the journey.' He said to the woman.

As he made for the exit the retainer followed him.

'What will become of us?' He was already feeling relieved of the strong magic binding him to the castle.

'I have no orders for you. You had better stay here and wait,' he commanded.

The retainer looked around him. Obviously, all the other servants had already felt the magic bonds being relinquished, as he had himself. They were now free to go wherever they wanted, to do whatever they liked. Some of them had already run. In a few hours many others would do the same. He shrugged; his duty in here was over. Master and Mistress were dead and, in a short while, their child gone. He sighed. Morzan was not his Master anymore. He was free!

In less than an hour, the soldiers and the magicians were ready to depart. The child, dressed in travel clothing, was seated on the captain's stallion. Nanny held his hand to greet him for the last time.

'Be strong, child, now a new life begins for you,' she said and smiled briefly to him, as the captain encouraged the horse to a trot.

The woman was happy. She had felt the binding magic already being lifted off her. The aforementioned new life was for her and her family. Her little daughter was waiting in her sister's home, in the nearby village. Now she could go to her. Be with her. Show her all her love and care she has deprived her of over the previous three years because of the son of Morzan. She watched the men exiting the castle, captain and child at the head, then a couple of soldiers, the two magicians, the cart with the body and the rest of the squad. She smiled again, feeling joy overflowing her chest.

'My beloved baby, I am coming to you!' She whispered and hurried inside the castle to gather her belongings, under the questioning gaze of the retainer.

Just before reaching the exit of the castle the boy looked around him, staring at the yard, the buildings, the walls, the familiar faces of the servants for a last time. His heart was heavy, full of pain and sorrow. He was left alone, deserted, scared. Alone! Even the presence of the sour Teacher would be a preferable one now. Nanny had said that the life would begin for him, but what kind of life would this be? Away from the place he considered 'home', without mommy...

And at this moment he remembered the letter he had written for his mother. He shoved his hand in his pocket, but the piece of parchment wasn't there anymore. In all this commotion the letter was lost. Mommy would have to go on her long journey alone. He bit hard on his lips to prevent tears, as he turned to look at the cart which followed behind, but the captain straightened him on the saddle.

'Easy boy! It won't be a long journey. We'll be there at dusk.'

The moment they were passing the massive steel doors, the child looked upwards to the menacing iron bars and shivered. And this was the moment, when for the first time in his life, the son of Morzan exited the gates of his forbidden castle to face the outer world.

A/N : Your reviews will be my reward. If there is something that you like in my story, I want to know it. If you don't like it, I want to know it too, so I can possibly fix it. After all I learn from my mistakes. :) So, please, review.