Chapter 160: Violet
Again a scream of pain arose in the room.
It had now passed more than half an hour since the labor had begun and the frequent pains had begun.
It was a hot day, a sunny midday, even too oppressive and muggy for a mid-autumn day.
And he was there, alone: just Damien, isolated from the world.
He sat outside the room reserved for the birth, waiting patiently but with curiosity at the same time, indeed, he didn't seem to be able to wait when something so important was happening.
The young lord of House Courcy had recently turned twenty-five but for almost two years he had been married to Samantha, his childhood friend, as well as his crush as a child.
It had been two years since the lord had confessed his true feelings to hers, two years since they had decided to get married, after only two months of engagement.
It was all so beautiful, everything as he had always hoped: a wife, a big family, but he wasn't sure all of this could really happen or how long this perfection could last.
In fact, it was shown by some medical studies that the young woman, now giving birth, Sam, had countless respiratory problems due to pneumonia not properly treated in the past, so the condition of her lungs did not seem to improve much but rather start to get worse month after month.
And that was precisely the moment, the best opportunity to conceive and give birth to a child who with great probability would not have suffered too much from the condition of the mother.
It had been decided by several factors in fact: yes, they had done it because they surely loved each other but it was also mainly a matter of succession and survival for House Courcy, especially since alongside the crown they had lost such a great war.
Given the fact that Damien was the only child of his mother and the last male descendant in the direct line of the house, it was essential that when he returned from the war he procreated guaranteeing his own House an offspring of many children sharing his name.
And it was so that in that moment, when everything was happening, that a thousand questions began to arise in the curious and frightened mind of man.
The lord walked back and forth in the long corridor radiated by the warm and light rays of the sun: he moved back and forth, repeating in his fear and anxiety that gesture over and over again.
His wavy coal-black hair was illuminated with a peculiar sheen and moved even more by the faint, slightly wind entering from the windows.
His eyes were bright but filled with awe, anxiety and fear for his future, for the future of his House.
Damien had actually grown up without a father figure, like most bastards so he had no idea what his effort to become a father would be like.
But his mother had done a great job as a parent, he remembered her with much affection and kindness.
Violet Courcy was the youngest of six older siblings and had given birth to the child when she was only sixteen and no one could help her.
In the early years of the little boy's life she had raised her son alone without any help other than that of the nurses and tutors.
His mother had been a strong woman, yes, to have raised him, and she had been even stronger to rebel when, at the command of the parents, with the fear that their daughter, already a mother, would remain without a husband, they had given her in marriage to a man whose peculiarities were gambling and alcohol.
Damien remembered his childhood, he remembered that man: he had known him at the age of thirteen, when together with his mother they were forced to take him into their family and move to his large mansion.
Lord Jason was a noble from a small land further north and he remembered that during the time in which he and his mother had gone to live with the man, the boy was hit by a strong depression.
As already mentioned, that man had a habit of wine, gambling and women, but the problem was that when he overdid everything his stepfather ended up becoming aggressive and prone to violence.
Yes, that man had been violent towards the boy and towards his mother both physically and verbally and it was too much to bear that in that time the young Damien had fallen back into a vortex of constant depression.
But he remembered one evening, when he was just fifteen and rebelled against his stepfather for his outrageous behaviour towards his mother, Jason, drunk, had not hesitated to pull the dagger from its sheath and point it at the boy threatening him to end his miserable life.
He didn't remember too much of that day, he just remembered being pushed to the ground, opening his eyes, remembering his gaze was clouded and swaying for a few moments, he remembered seeing his mother lying on the ground in front of him, immersed in a puddle of blood coming out of her chest.
As already admitted, he did not remember much of that day, he only remembered that his mother had saved his life, she had sacrificed herself for him, she had given him her whole life to protect him from that man.
Damien remembered in his mind hearing a voice, like a command, an innate reaction, a subtle whisper "kill him", "tear him apart" and remembered his eyes being bathed in deep hatred and anger, and it was beautiful, magnificent , because he no longer felt fear.
Damien Courcy had committed murder at the age of fifteen, throwing the man on the floor and hitting the body with that dagger over and over again but he had done it for a just cause, he had done it to bring justice in such a cruel and unjust world.
Yes, she knew, his mother had been enough for him in his life without needing a father, he remembered, Violet Courcy, the beautiful daughter of the noble House, he just wanted to remember her.
Before the boy noticed it, his eyes were wet, reddened by the salty and transparent tears of the past, which despite everything he managed to keep inside his eyes.
It was nice to be able to reason and think, nice, because that had distracted him from what was happening at the moment, it had completely distracted and calmed him, by the fact that in an instant the screams of the woman inside the room calmed down for make room for a resounding and sweet cry.
That noise received the attention of the lord, he raised his face at the door of the room, which finally opened let the man in the arms of a midwife, glimpse the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
She was small, completely tiny, flushed, wrinkled.
The baby observed with her big eyes, completely black in the infinity of that bright room, she seemed to be enchanted by the light, following it with curiosity and attention.
Damien took her slowly from the woman's arms, his little girl was wrapped in a series of white towels, wet with the blood of that little body that still smelled of sweat after birth.
She already had a few short, soft hair of a reddish-brown colour on her head, the same colour as her mother's hair, she was simply adorable.
-It's a baby girl, my lord- admitted the woman, placing the little baby's body more composedly in her arms -what do you want to call her?-.
-We'll call her Violet- the man admitted without thinking about it twice -it was the same name as my mother-.
Yes, just at that moment when Damien held his baby in his arms he realised that to her, he would be the best father in the world.
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
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