He eyed the swathed infant with a strange combination of aloofness, anger, and adoration displayed plainly on his face, a fact which did not go unnoticed by the young mother who stared at him with a similar expression only hers was tainted by hope, a will to please. The young man gave a rather stiff nod, the corners of his lips giving the tiniest of flickers—whether it was meant as a smile or a grimace was nearly impossible to ascertain.

“She’s beautiful,” he said in way of congratulation, his voice as beautifully cold as a glacier as he turned away from her, fingering the edges of his dark cloak absentmindedly. Concealed from her, the young man’s face danced like a candle flame, swinging capriciously from hurt, elation and back to being composed once again. The mother of the child shifted against the pillows of the great bed, her eyes a muddled green as she stared at his back. Silence filled the room for several moments, and the only sounds that could be heard were the subtle breathing of the woman and child. The man made no sound at all, but eventually moved to face her once more, his silvery eyes looking anywhere but at the pair before him.

“Is that all you have to say?” The mother finally asked, her tone infiltrated by that ray of hope that the man so lacked—his lips pursed stubbornly in response, and if he knew what she was waiting for he gave no verbal sign. The man nodded, his grey eyes flitting to the sleeping babe once more and examining her like a mediocre artist would admire a particularly fine painting—with admiration closely followed by a sinking feeling of personal inadequacy. The mother laughed, leaning forwards on the bed and swinging her feet to the floor with an unexpected swiftness, crushing the baby girl into her chest as she stood her full height before the young man, her eyes flashing coldly. “You would brave the dangers of coming to see us, and then cower before me, Renatus?” The woman asked, her voice laced with an incredulous fury. A muscle in Renatus’ cheek jumped unpleasantly in response.

He was silent for a moment as the two stood and faced each other, the woman’s face alight with vehemence, her flaming red hair paling in comparison to her flushed face. Renatus’ face, however, was as impartial as could be, pale and perfect like sculpted moonlight—his eyes held so little emotion they may as well have been stones. Unexpectedly his face softened, his sharpened features blurred like water color paints. He stepped forwards with silent, catlike steps and extended his hand towards her. The young woman did not shy away as he brushed his ghostly fingers against her angrily red cheek and then let his hand slide to the child, tracing an indefinable rune against her temples with the fondness that he had been veiling.

“I must go now. Give the King my fondest wishes.” Renatus said, his voice as crisp and flat as always, although now something like humor was interlaced with the monotone. The woman’s brows arched bemusedly, though quickly fell again once Renatus turned away from her once more, his dark cloak flaring dramatically behind him as he approached the ornate window that looked out onto the castle gardens. He stood with his hands against the stone sill for a few moments and was framed in moonlight—the sharp planes of his face were made even more angular by the deep set shadows that filled every crease of his youthful visage. The woman wore a heavy frown now, and visibly slumped, though there was a certain regality about her that was impossible to miss, even in her obviously poor condition. “What is her name?”

“What?” Asked the woman, for Renatus had spoken so softly that she had scarcely noticed that he had made a noise at all.

“Her name.”

“Artemis,” replied the woman with a small, hesitant smile as her eyes sought his face—sure enough, the faintest of grins played about his tightly pressed lips for a split second. Once again they were silent, and Renatus watched both mother and daughter carefully, his eyes eerily rapt as if trying to imprint the image in his mind. The mother’s smile faded until it seemed she was looking very far into the distance and not at Renatus at all, at which time she turned around to sit on the edge of the bed, rocking the softly cooing infant slowly from side to side. “I’m sick, Renatus…”

The woman’s expression flickered to one of worry too heavy for her young age, and she turned her head around swiftly to catch the young man’s eye, to gauge his reaction, but her eyes fell upon nothing but an open windowsill and the starlight that had begun to pool on the stone floor.