Bloodstained Betrothal

"Damn it! I'm sick and tired of this pointless hunt!" The bespectacled old man shouted in frustration. His company, a gentle-looking woman caressed his back and took a deep breath.

"Calm down, Martin," she turned to the agitated nun in front of them. "Please pardon his discourtesy, sister. We have been visiting orphanages around the country since last week, and I am afraid this is the last one on our list. Is there really no one with such features? Or at least close?"

With her head lowered, the nun answered. "A-actually. . please come with me."

***

The two were guided down the hallway of the convent, and took a halt in front of an old wooden door by its end. Using a lamp she's holding, the nun motioned both of them to enter. Although hesitation is evident in their faces as they exchange glances, they knew they have no choice but to do anything to accomplish their masters' order, or else, what's coming is worse than anyone could ever imagine.

Dimmed and dusty, they were greeted by the spooky atmosphere that envelops the room. Aside from the lamp on their side, only a candle that illuminates one corner of the room and a window that allows the light of the moon to enter lets them see what is before them. Through the latter, the figure of a boy, around seven years old, gazing outside is made apparent to the two visitors.

His platinum-white hair radiates the silvery brilliance of the full moon, and his purple eyes glimmer as if they were carved from amethyst.

On the other side, the two were left astonished, mouth and eyes forming a circle like they struck diamond in a muddy lake. However. . .

"But he's a boy, is he?" the old woman asked, voice tainted with disappointment and confusion.

"And he's too old," Martin added.

"He is not what I meant to show you, for he has a sister who looks like a female variety of him."

Light came back to the eyes of the restless old people. It seems this pursuit they consider a sporadic occurrence is not in vain after all.

"Where is she?" the old man cried, heart pounding as his eyes plead the nun to show them what they came for.

"In his arms."

Once again, their eyes landed into the boy whose attention left them already.

With a deep gulp, the nun took several steps forward towards the boy's position and whispered on his ears. What she spoke of was not audible enough for the guests to hear, but after that, the boy threw an immediate and sharp stare at the two and carefully handed what he's been holding on to all along.

"I'm afraid I cannot hand her to you or he'll get really mad," the nun said.

The two did not waste a single second and quickly took a good look at the baby's face.

Indeed, her appearance was almost identical to 'her', the two shared the same thought.

Still in awe, Martin spoke, "Now then, how much should we --"

"That's . . one thing I cannot decide for. The headmistress is out on a trip right now, and prior to her departure, she instructed us not to give away these two at any circumstances."

"When will she come back?" the old woman asked.

"I am not certain, but her journey back here would take approximately three weeks."

"Give her back!"

The three jumped out of extreme shock and fright at the boy's growl. He has been silent all this time, hence this much of an outburst almost gave them a heart attack.

"I-I'm sorry. . ." the nun pardoned as she return the girl to her enraged brother.

Despite their own personal fear, the two unknowingly agrees to a common impression; something is definitely odd about the child, and that the nun must be afraid of him - or them.

***

The spirit of defeat seems to have possessed the two as they depart from that room. Left with no other choice, they lifelessly walked the dark hallway whilst deliberately preparing themselves for the tragic fate that awaits them at that mansion.

"We're doomed," the two uttered in unison.

Countless steps away from the church gate, a carriage was standing by to fetch them. But as they were about to hop in, a familiar voice and figure approaching them made the two turn their heads around.

"Sister?"

"My hometown. . " the young nun uttered between her heavy breaths. "take me back there and I'll give you the girl."

The idea may have brought hope into their eyes, but it was overwhelmed by the intense puzzlement her actions gave them.

"I'll sedate the boy, he's overly cautious but I have my ways. Burn this place and take the girl wherever you please."

"S-sister, we don't understand why -"

"T-this place . . . is not a church anymore."

***

"'Not a church', huh?" a middle-aged man spoke as he spins a fountain pen between his index and middle finger.

The light that comes from the window behind created a shadow on his front, making it difficult for the two to have a clear view of the expression on his face.

Is he satisfied? Or angry? Or disappointed?

They could not discern at all, fortunately, it temporarily frees them from crossing paths with his intimidating eyes.

"Yes, my lord. As promised, we dropped her off her hometown but she looked traumatized throughout the trip, so we could not ask her further," Martin replied as he recalls his encounter with the young nun - rather, lady.

"Who cares about that woman now? Let me see the child."

Martin motioned the old woman to walk towards him as she carries the child.

With the child in his arms, the man chuckled. "Ah yes. The future queen of this kingdom is within my grasp once again."

***

"Olivia." It's the same man, in a different room.

Bearing the child in his arms, he approaches a huge bed, where a frail-looking woman seats atop of, waiting for him.

"My duke. I-is that . . ." her hands automatically covered her mouth, eyes wide and round as she realize what her husband has brought her.

"Our daughter," he responded, carefully handing the child over to her wife.

"L-Lucille? I knew it, it was just a dream after all, a really bad one," the woman's voice cracked and wept. Her arms encircled the child and kissed her on the cheeks.

"Indeed, my love."

His lips curled into a smirk.