Years ago.

The peaceful village of Towold settled down for the night, the houses silent while the inns burst forth with noise. Mothers tucked in their children while fathers sat by the fire, a lit pipe nestled in their lips. A few of the more rowdy crowd spent their day’s earnings at the inn, drowning themselves in music and revelry while the innkeeper patiently kept up a steady flow of ale, rum and other intoxicants.

“Where is Arran, Wont she be playing tonight?” Arles asked Munder, the Innkeeper.

Munder looked up, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

“She’s expecting tonight, could be a few weeks before she gets back to playing the violin here” he shrugged.

“That so? How’s she been doing with that asshole of a husband….?” Thomas enquired, interjecting himself into the conversation, seemingly intoxicated, face flushed.

“It’s for the womenfolk to gossip about such things, none of my concern…none of anyone’s for that matter” Munder shot back, fixing Thomas with a stare. “and no more for you, I think you’ve had enough” he added as an after thought before going back to cleaning glasses at the counter with a rag.

“Aye, it’s for the womenfolk to gossip about such things” Arles nodded, adding his own scowl to Munder’s.

“I at least care about what is happening to her rather than push away the responsibility to the womenfolk” Thomas spat, indignantly, his face flushing a deeper red. 

“You think I don’t? You think I haven't tried to help her?” Munder growled, “I have approached her many times, that my doors would always be open for her, Enel too has gone to her with the same offer” he looked down, “more times than I care to remember” he mumbled before looking back up and fixing Thomas in another scowl “She is too proud for her good.”

“I volunteered to be with her today” Enel spoke from behind Munder. “She refused, saying it would only make things worse.”

“Can the village do nothing?” Thomas asked, pity and desperation creeping into his voice.

“What can we do when she doesn't want our help? Maybe she will change after tonight….motherhood does that to people” Enel replied despondently before looking at her husband, looking into his eyes as those amber orbs looked back into hers, “..maybe…”

On the outskirts of Towold, a lonely house, set apart from the other houses, one that had seen better times. It was on its last legs, paint peeling off, cracks running through the walls. It was lit from within by a single oil lamp. 

Panting could be heard from within. A woman, in her twenties, she couldn't be called a goddess, but she was lovely, her face tender, her eyes scrunched up in pain could not hide the warmth and the beauty of her soul. She was in labor while a midwife tended to her. 

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“Push Arran, you can do it. I can see the head” said Jane, the midwife.

Arran continued her exertions, giving it her all. She would live for her child. She had wanted to kill herself, she had even tried. 

Jane, who had come unexpectedly, saw Arran on the floor, bleeding through her wrist. She quickly stopped the bleeding and stitched up the cut, using her knowledge as one of the village’s midwife. She knew a bit about medicine and the human anatomy. While nursing Arran, she realised that Arran was pregnant.

She told the same to Arran, hoping that she would want to at least live now for the sake of her unborn child. She was right. Arran lived, with determination in her heart, she willed herself to live.

Arran pushed one final time before relaxing. She was excited, tired but excited. She looked at Jane, expecting her to say something, only to see that she was mortified.

“What happened Jane?”

“The baby is silent, and not moving” she replied, looking distraught.

Arran was terrified. This was her baby, her only reason to live. She could not lose it, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Give me my baby”

Jane hesitantly handed over the baby, worried about Arran.

Arran looked down at her baby. It was a boy. Tears welled in her eyes. He was her baby, her life, her very flesh and blood. She wanted to live, for the first time since a very long time. She wanted to live and  she wanted the baby to live. 

A tear slid down her cheek, falling on the baby’s face. She moved a finger to wipe it. She felt something holding the finger very lightly, it was the baby’s hand, wrapped around her finger. She looked back at the baby’s face, gently disengaging her finger from the baby’s grip and wiping at the tear. The baby opened his eyes and looked straight into hers. 

Arran was overjoyed, the baby was alive, he was just silent. Those eyes, dark as night, they were startling. They were piercing yet gentle and comforting. She knew a baby couldn't convey any such emotion so young, but it didn't change the fact that those eyes were unique.

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Hello All,

I have decided to forgo the quality of writing in favour of a quicker plot. I would be making it as gramatically correct as I can and would make the story readable. The quality of writing itself would be a little on the lower end until I reach chapter 20. I will be coming back and editing everything until I am satisfied with the quality.

Thanks.

PS: any suggestions and comments are greatly appreciated.

PPS: The story would be focussing on his childhood for the initial few chapters. Expect a lot of romance, which would be quite crucial to the story later on.