Aiden's tiny hands wrapped around the soft fabric of his mother's dress as she held him close to her chest. The rhythmic thumping of her heartbeat was the only sound that filled his world. His mother, Lyria, gently rocked him in her arms, her gaze distant, her face a mask of quiet sorrow. The room was serene, but an undeniable heaviness filled the air, a sadness that neither she nor anyone else in the room could ignore.
The once vibrant and cheerful woman now seemed like a mere shell of herself. It was as if the very light of her spirit had been dimmed by the shadows of her memories—the memories of King Edmund, the man who had once pledged to love her forever. But he had broken that promise. He had abandoned them. Left her alone to bear the weight of a child, alone in a world that had no mercy.
Aiden's little eyes, though still young, took in everything around him. The sadness in his mother's eyes, the weariness in her posture, the way her lips trembled as she held back tears. He didn't fully understand what all of this meant, but he understood the feeling—the feeling of something broken. It was a feeling that stirred an unfamiliar fire deep inside him. A fire that had no place in such a tiny body, but burned nonetheless.
Lady Elena, Aiden's grandmother, stood near the door, watching quietly. Her heart ached for her daughter, Lyria, but there was little she could do to ease her pain. She had tried countless times to comfort her, but the sorrow of abandonment ran too deep. It was a wound that refused to heal.
As Lyria gazed out the window, her fingers absentmindedly running through Aiden's soft hair, Elena took a step forward, her expression filled with concern. "Lyria…" she began, her voice soft yet laced with a quiet authority. "I see the sadness in your eyes. Your heart... it is heavy. But you don't have to bear it alone."
Lyria looked down at Aiden, her heart swelling with a mix of love and sorrow. "Mother…" Her voice cracked slightly as she whispered, "He left us. Edmund… he left. He abandoned me when I needed him most. And now, I'm left to raise Aiden alone."
Aiden's small hands tightened around the fabric of her dress, as if he understood her pain. He had no words, of course, but his baby mind could grasp emotions in a way that words could not. The quiet pain of his mother's heart was his pain, too.
Elena knelt beside them, gently placing a hand on Aiden's tiny head, her expression softening with an odd connection she couldn't ignore. "You are not alone, Lyria. I'm here, and I always will be. You don't have to carry this burden on your own."
Lyria's eyes welled with tears, but she quickly wiped them away. She didn't want to show weakness, not in front of Aiden. But Elena could see it all—the way Lyria's shoulders trembled, the way she held Aiden a little tighter, as if seeking solace in her child. Elena could sense something beyond the sadness in the room. There was anger there, too. A kind of raw, fiery anger that burned beneath the surface.
Aiden's tiny fists clenched, his baby mind struggling to understand the world. He felt his mother's grief, but there was something else that stirred within him—something darker, something more intense. Whoever had caused his mother such pain would pay. Whoever had taken his father away from them would feel his wrath.
Even at this young age, Aiden's instincts were sharp. His grip on his mother's dress tightened as his gaze locked onto her face, his small lips trembling. He wasn't crying for attention or out of fear. No, Aiden was silently vowing to make sure that the one who had caused his mother this pain would never go unpunished.
As the days passed, Aiden's bond with Lyria only deepened. Each time she carried him out to the garden, his tiny eyes soaked in everything—the vibrant colors of the flowers, the gentle rustling of the trees, the soft cooing of the birds. He observed the world with the intensity of someone much older. And every time they walked together, Lyria would sigh and speak softly to him, as though confiding her deepest fears.
"I never wanted this for you, Aiden," she would murmur. "I never wanted you to grow up in a world where your father wasn't there. I wanted so much more for you."
Aiden would gaze up at her, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. Even though he could not yet speak, he could feel her pain and her sorrow. In those moments, he made a silent vow: he would make things right. He would make his mother proud, and whoever had wronged her would pay for their betrayal.
Lady Elena walked beside them, her eyes observing Aiden with a mix of awe and growing concern. There was something about him, something unsettling. Even though he was just a baby, Elena couldn't shake the feeling that he was more than what he seemed. There was a fire in his gaze—a fire that had no place in the innocence of a child.
"Do you see it, mother?" Lyria whispered one day as they walked. "Do you see the anger in his eyes? He's so young, and yet I can feel it..."
Elena's gaze turned to Aiden, who was silently watching the world with a focused intensity. "Yes," she replied softly. "I see it too. It's like he's already carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He's… different."
Lyria looked down at her son, her heart aching. "I don't want him to grow up with so much anger. But I fear that, one day, it will consume him."
Aiden didn't cry. He simply listened, absorbing the world around him. His hands, still tiny, clenched as he made the silent promise: whoever had hurt his mother would suffer. One day, he would make them regret it.
But for now, he simply watched. And in his small, infant mind, the first seed of hatred was planted. His father would pay for abandoning them, for the pain he had caused. Aiden's innocent mind had yet to fully understand the consequences of such thoughts, but the foundation had been set. The hatred would grow with him, shaping his future and his resolve.