Chapter Text
Once upon a time there was a king who ruled in a distant kingdom. This kingdom was called Valinor. After years of tyranny, they had hoped for a king who only wanted the best for his people. Even if this king was said to have more intelligence and ingenuity than his predecessor, his implementation was no different - the young king's deeds were characterized by brutality and sudden anger. Thieves were fed by the dogs and murder were quartered. But not only his actions as a judge made him look scary, but also his quirk - to light fires at will.
After the Great War of Haruto, the First Great Magical War, the once great country of Baelor had split into eighteen kingdoms - in power the most powerful magical families of the once magnificent Baelor.
In order to further strengthen the powerful bloodline of the royal families, arranged marriages prevented magic from becoming an everyday object of the common people. And yet the magical inheritance was sometimes passed on to a descendant in the common population, so that the kingships threatened to perish under the new onslaught of inexperienced magicians.
The young king therefore referred to an old legend, the legend of the Child Prodigy, as Haruto, the first great ruler of Baelor, was said to have been. A child prodigy represented a person who developed incredible powers from an early age, which in adulthood could lead them to seize entire kingdoms. It has been said that there have been about seven of them so far, according to historiography.
For this reason, the young king made it his task to get such a child prodigy as heir to the throne. He took a young woman from a powerful magical princely family as his wife and fathered her first son with her. This turned out to be powerful at the age of four, but appeared in his father's eyes as a failed attempt because he was not one of these child prodigies.
The next child was a girl - as weak as her mother, as her father said. While the mother and the first son enjoyed the small bundle, the king raged and blamed his wife for not having born a child prodigy. He had punished her with punishment and violence. She cried a lot, but never in front of her children.
The third child was a boy again. As weak in the king's eyes as his older siblings. The queen didn't even try to avoid her husband's violent attacks. Her body was marked by them and her younger children were too young to understand the seriousness of the situation, while her eldest son slowly understood that his father was more a tyrant than the king before.
Finally it happened - on an icy winter night the queen gave birth to another son. The servants and the responsible midwife startled at the sight of the newborn boy, because his hair was as snow-white on one side as his mother's, on the other side as fiery red as his father's. His left eye shimmered light blue like the eyes of the king, his right glowed gray like the eyes of the queen. While the servants described the boy as the birth of the devil, the queen knew the fate of this small bundle.
Her guess became certain when the boy reached the age of four and when playing, turned one side of the room into an ice desert and the other side burned to ashes.
The king had a banquet organized in the castle for the occasion. The king's advisors were certain that the boy was one of these child prodigies and would be the perfect heir to the throne.
The queen feared for the life of her youngest son. She watched her husband teach the poor boy strictly and in tough training sessions how to control and master his tremendous magical powers. It was too much for the young prince. He often broke down crying, crouched weak on the floor, but the king kept pushing him on. The queen kept trying to stop the king to give the boy a break from the hardships, but to no avail.
Then she made a decision: to protect him, she would have to send him away. So she wrote a letter to an old friend and asked for asylum for her little boy. The friend sent a messenger to fetch the young prince. At night and in fog, the queen ran to the prince's room to wake him up and get him out of the dark castle.
The messenger waited on a hill outside the city walls. His lantern shimmered slightly in the dark of the night. The boy followed with confidence his mother, who handed him the messenger. When she said goodbye, she hugged the confused boy, promised him, they would see each other again sometime, and told him that he would never be exposed to his father's tyranny again.
The messenger put the boy on the horse, took the reins and moved away with the prince while the weeping queen stood on the hill and watched the shimmering lantern slowly fade away in the distance.
From then on, the boy lived in a kingdom, in another family. He grew up hidden from his father's eyes and soon forgot that he had to endure this terrible time. He forgot his tyrannical father, his crying mother, his marginalized siblings.
As he left Valinor, history should change drastically.