In a small cottage by the sea, screams could be heard; cries of intense pain, mixed with hushed whispers. Something was dreadfully wrong. Then they ceased, to be replaced by the wail of an infant. But there was no sound of joy, no celebration. The babe's cry was the only noise as the woman's eyes were closed one final time.
Time passed, and a man left the house, carrying a small bundle. A small hand poked out, clutching a violet. He looked at it with love and with pain. The man knew this child would not be a gift to him, but he could not bear to leave her alone to die. And so he claimed her as his own, and went out into the world.