It was a bright and golden day — the kind that only visits once in a generation — when Valen de Noir was born. A child with midnight-black hair, eyes as dark as a moonless sky, and skin pale as untouched snow.
The third child of the noble House de Noir, and the one everyone seemed to love without reason or restraint.
In those days, the Noir Estate was paradise itself.
The fields were rich, the harbor never slept, and the laughter of children mingled with the hum of merchants from distant lands.
The gods, it seemed, favored this land with gentle hands.
Valen's childhood was simple — playing with his siblings, gathering wildflowers with his mother, crossing wooden swords with his father under the sun.
A perfect family.
A perfect life.
Or so it felt, back then.
Years passed, and Valen reached his eighth summer.
On one bright morning, his older brother Darian, now fourteen and already training to be a knight, called to him. Darian had black, wavy hair that fell to about his shoulders, the same pale skin and dark eyes shared by the Noir family. For his age, he was surprisingly well-built — not bulky, but clearly shaped by years of constant training. Despite the seriousness of his routine, there was something steady and dependable about him, the kind of presence that made others trust him without question.
"Valen! How about some sword practice today?"
Valen's eyes lit up. Training with Darian was his favorite thing — because every time, he learned something new.
They walked together to the castle's training yard, where guards and knights saluted respectfully as the young masters passed.
Darian handed Valen a practice sword and smiled.
"Today, I have high expectations from you," he said.
Valen tilted his head, puzzled.
"I know you've been sneaking off to train with the knights. So… show me how much you've learned."
"Yes, brother!" Valen said, his eyes burning with determination.
The duel began.
For their ages, the fight was almost too advanced — Valen, only eight, and Darian, a natural prodigy at fourteen.
Darian held back, but Valen's swings were sharp and full of spirit, forcing him to increase his power even further.
He brought his sword down in a vertical strike — missed.
Darian countered from the left.
Valen dodged, barely, stepping back just in time.
He smiled, thinking he'd avoided the hit — but when he turned around, Darian was already behind him.
A quick punch landed in his stomach, knocking the air out of him.
Valen fell, gasping.
Darian knelt, helped him to his feet, and said quietly:
"Never assume you're safe just because you think you are."
Valen clutched his stomach but smiled, bowing his head.
"Thank you, big brother."
Darian patted his shoulder and walked away.
But someone had been watching — Lady Elyra de Noir, their mother.
She approached, her warm smile softening every bruise.Her long, silver-gray hair shimmered gently as she knelt beside Valen, and her pale skin contrasted softly with the dark eyes she had passed on to him. There was a quiet elegance in the way she moved, and a calm presence that eased the ache of his morning training simply by being there.
"I'm sure you'll get him next time, my darling," she said, gently ruffling his hair. "Just keep practicing."
Her voice was sunlight itself.
Valen nodded fiercely.
"Of course, Mother! I won't disappoint you!"
"Good," she said, "now come — let's treat those wounds."
They walked together to the garden, Valen's favorite place in the whole world.
Every corner of it was filled with memories — laughter, stories, and her soft voice teaching him the names of flowers.
Elyra knelt before him, tending to his bruises with careful hands.
"You know your brother loves you, right?" she asked gently.
"I know, Mother," Valen said, lowering his eyes. "I'm not angry at him… I'm angry at myself."
"Why is that, my love?"
"Because I always tell you I'll become a knight to protect you — from anything bad. But right now… I don't think I'm strong enough to do that."
She stopped. For a long moment, she simply looked at him — truly looked.
Then she smiled, tears glimmering in her eyes.
"Valen," she whispered, "you're already the strongest knight I could ever ask for. One day, you'll grow strong — strong enough to protect everyone you love. I believe in you with all my heart, my sweet child."
Then she pulled him into her arms.
The scent of roses surrounded him — the same scent he would remember for the rest of his life.