1955 — Trondheim, Norway
In a remote corner of Trondheim stood an old school building. Once, it had been abandoned when a new school was built, but ten years ago it was repurposed into an orphanage, with the intention of giving a home to those who lost their parents in the war.
Yet, it was not a place of warmth or comfort, nor was it a place that encouraged hope. The whitewashed walls felt sterile and cold, while the caretakers—even the kinder ones—were often too weary to offer much beyond the bare essentials.
The cold, Norwegian weather did not help either, as heating and blankets were in short supply. The children moved like spectres within its confines, indifferent and careful, as if any step or noise could draw the attention of a cruel world.
Yet, there was one child among them who had an easier time of it. A beautiful, eight-year-old girl stood by a window. Soft blond hair flowed down to her shoulders, and purple irises twinkled with cruelty and curiosity as they watched the latest arrival being led through the entrance gates.
He was taller than most of the boys already there, his dark hair tousled, his blue eyes sharp and observant as they took in his surroundings. The girl was surprised. According to what she knew, this boy was supposed to be the same age as her, and yet he didn't look like it.
But that only increased her curiosity.
Aside from his size, there was something about him that spoke of defiance—something she recognized in herself.
"Interesting…" she muttered, as a small smile played on her lips. Turning around, she walked away from the window, deeper into the building. "I think I'll make him mine," she continued, her voice a whisper that quickly faded away in the stark hallway.
* * *
That evening, the dark-haired boy sat alone in the dining hall. He'd been busy all day getting his orientation out of the way by the orphanage's caretakers, and so this was the first time he got some rest.
He'd just finished the evening's main meal, which was an unidentifiable sludge, but the boy wasn't a picky eater and shoved it all in his gullet without complaint.
But now came the moment he'd been looking forward to. The meal may suck, but as dessert all the kids were given a small pudding cup. With twinkling eyes, the eight-year-old tore off the cup's lid, and was about to dig in when his peace was disturbed.
"Hi!" a girl of about the same age as him grinned as she suddenly appeared on the other side of his table, a palpable air of confidence around her every movement.
Yet, the boy wasn't interested right now. The only response he had to her appearance was a raised eyebrow. At the same time, he stuck his small spoon in the cup, and brought up a bite of pudding without breaking eye contact. Much like the girl, he didn't lack confidence.
The girl pouted slightly, but then she extended her arm and put a hand on his. Suddenly, her eyes flashed and her lips split into a wide grin.
The boy blinked in surprise. Out of nowhere, he felt a strange presence worm its way into his mind, telling him to give his pudding to the girl.
For a moment, the two children remained still, eyes locked on to each other. Around them, all the other children looked at the girl with fear, and the boy with sympathy. They all knew of the girl's strange powers, but they had no way to resist and no one to complain to.
Most of the caretakers just dismissed it as children's fantasy, and the few that tried to investigate quickly changed their mind after being in the same room as her for a little while.
Yet, the result shocked everyone.
After a moment of surprise, the boy shrugged off the girl's influence and continued lifting the pudding to his lips. Calmly, he ate his desert, never breaking eye contact with the girl.
Then, he brought his spoon down again, and ate another bite, never saying anything, and now simply holding hands with his apparent opponent.
The girl was no less shocked than anyone else. Perhaps more, even. She was the only one to truly feel what happened, as the suggestion she tried to plant in his mind simply… vanished.
She tried a few more times as her eyes showed increasing levels of confusion, but they were all fruitless. The boy continued eating his pudding, never showing any intention of handing over her supposed loot.
When he was done, he put his spoon down and extended his hand forward. "My name is Rurik," he said, his lips curling just slightly in a half-smirk.
The girl remained shellshocked for a moment, but when she noticed Rurik's eyes were full of interest, rather than fear or anger, she suddenly felt something strange in her stomach.
Her eyes began to twinkle, and her lips stretched into wide grin. Taking back the hand she'd been using to cover Rurik's, she instead used it to grasp the hand he'd extended towards her. "I'm Luna," she answered, now nearly bouncing off the bench in excitement.
Luna leaned forward; her eyes fixed on his. "You're different," she stated. There was no point in pretending otherwise; there was no way he hadn't noticed what she tried to do—she hadn't been particularly subtle, after all.
"So are you," Rurik replied, a challenge in his tone. He wasn't afraid of her, and he wasn't impressed by whatever tricks she might have had up her sleeve.
Truthfully, however, he didn't even know why that trick of hers did nothing to him. Judging by the looks he was getting from the other kids around; it was pretty easy to guess that this wasn't normal.
Yet, he wasn't put off by it. Since her ability had no effect on him, then she wasn't a danger to him. Instead, maybe this could lead to something interesting…
It was in that moment that both Luna and Rurik realized they'd found someone worth their time.