Tyrian looked into the faces of his parents for the last time before the undertaker needed to close their caskets to prepare for another funeral. The shock was still written across his expression. He remained motionless, hollow and devoid of reaction despite his weeping grandmother telling him.
"Little Ty we have to go now… I'm just… they're in a better place, my little deer." She sobbed while choking out the words. Gently shaking his shoulders, trying to get him to snap out of the shock.
His parents had been in a terrible traffic accident, at least that's what the Police had told him when they showed up at his door. He wasn't sure why he had answered, despite his grandparents being home watching him while his parents were out, but he had answered. He had been the first to receive the news. He had been coasting through the motions of life ever since that moment, when a Police officer had torn them from his life. He didn't know why he blamed the man, even as a child in grade school he knew it wasn't the Police who had done this to his parents. In the moment he just needed someone to blame, a bad guy. Bad guys make sense to a child, that's who causes all the bad things right?
He finally hazily began to come out of his shock, "Yes grandma. Better…" Tears started to finally fall down his cheeks. He couldn't lie. The last thing he remembered promising his Mom, is that he wouldn't lie anymore. He'd got in trouble for taking extra cookies out of the jar in the kitchen. After he had a lengthy chastisement, he had been told to promise her.
"You won't lie anymore Tyrion, promise me." That was the last promise he had made to his mother, he didn't believe they were in a better place. He couldn't lie. He was wailing now. Crying his little heart out. Finally feeling the crushing gravity that now, he was an orphan.
Years later, Tyrion had an opportunity to meet his first and longest lasting friend, Mark. He had simply walked up to the nervous large looking boy and introduced himself with a smile.
Remember Tyrion, you have a wonderful smile just like your Mother's was." He had borrowed his grandmother's confidence, when he walked up to Mark on the playground. The two were inseparable after their meeting. Mark was always dragging Tyrion into sports and Tyrion, always convincing Mark to be a little more outgoing. Convincing him to be a little more accommodating of other people. Whenever the two of them would get into any trouble with other kids, Mark was the one to deal with them. Mark was so much larger than all the other boys at their age that they would back off in an instant, once seeing his size. Playing off each other's strengths, Tyrian would always be able help Mark overcome his nervous nature. Tyrian was charismatic and outgoing, making the introductions and breaking the ice with other classmates so Mark didn't have to.
"Hi I'm Tyrian and this is my best buddy Mark. Do you guys wanna play tag?" Tyrian said to a group of other children who were on the playground. " Yeah, let's play." As the game progressed an older group of boys came onto the play ground and started to bully another younger boy that was part of their game. That's when Tyrian ran up to them, "Hey what's going on?" "Just give me all your notes and-" the ring leader of the older boy group was saying, while pulling the younger boy up to him by his shirt collar. "Hey kid, mind your own business and stay out of it." A different boy in the group said while shoving Tyrian to the ground. "Leave my friend alone, you bullies!" Mark yelled while charging into the boy that pushed Tyrian with his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. The older boy holding the younger one by his shirt collar dropped him and hollared, "Get the big one boys! I'll teach the other one a lesson!" The fight that ensued became the grade schools gossip for the rest of the year. Tyrian had a black eye and his shirt was torn. Mark had a broken nose and one of his remaining baby teeth was knocked loose. The group of older boys was defeated in the end, by the duo's sheer tenacity and comradery. All the students involved with the fight were suspended for a week. For the remainder of grade school Mark and Tyrian had each other's back. Becoming better friends as the years went by.
When they were in middle school the inevitable happened. Both of Tyrian's grandparents died within a month of each other. It was near the end of his last year in middle school. He was now truly left alone. Only Mark and a small group of acquaintances were left for him to lean on.
"Look man, I can't fully understand what it's like to go through losing your grandparents after you already lost your parents when you were younger. Just know that… your buddy Mark's going to be here for you whatever that means." Mark said to Ty while he was sitting at the top of the stairwell in their middle school.
"Thanks man, it means a lot to know that you have my back in all this. I know it wasn't realistic to expect to have them through all my school years, but a part of me just hoped that they could live a little longer." Just then an overhead intercom message played.
"Will student number 078 please report to the principal's office. I repeat, will student number 078 please report to the principal's office"
"Well that's me buddy, They're going to show me which Orphanage I'm going to be living in until I'm old enough to move out on my own." With that Tyrion stood up and walked down the stairs solemnly, while Mark watched him from behind. He didn't know what to say.
While Tyrion was riding in the government social workers vehicle, he pondered to himself about the situation he was now in.
"It makes sense that at their age Grandpa and Grandma passed away. I just don't understand how it's fair that all the other students I know still have both of their parents and most of their grandparents. Now, here I am being taken away alone. What kind of cosmic justice am I facing? Did I do something in a past life? Did I invoke the wrath of some form of ancient god?" As Tyrion sat in the back of the car pondering, he didn't realize that he was gradually falling asleep. The night before his sleep had been restless as he dealt with the loss of his grandparents. He hadn't been sleeping well the past few days if he were being honest with himself. And now after the final school day was over, the calm of the long ride out to the orphanage slowly lulled him off to sleep. For the first time he had a dream that when he woke up, he was going to remember.
"We prepare to depart at dawn with the rising of the Sun. We will have the All Fathers might on our side. The sages have spoken to me in a dream, a dream that includes all of our futures. The Seer has cast his bones; the reading is favorable. When we arrive in the West, in their lands, we will raid. We all saw it last morning. The crow that flew overhead of the village was no mere crow; we know whose crow it was." A towering bearded man with a helmet on and chainmail stood standing holding a small bearded axe in his right hand, gesturing this way and that as he spoke. Tyrion looked around the room. The setting felt familiar, though the situation he was in, surely he had never seen before. He remembered the smell of animal fats burning over an open fire in the middle of this long hall. He knew, somehow, that this was called a long hall. Though he had never drank any beer or alcohol of any kind, he remembered the taste of beer. He saw a flagon of it, sitting in front of him filled with it. The other men around the room were also armed. He himself had a spear propped up beside one of his chair legs, leaning against his shoulder. The dream was so vivid, with the smells, the tastes and the sounds. He started to doubt if this wasn't a memory instead. A memory of something that happened long ago.
The man spoke again after taking a long draw from a drinking horn , "Ah yes, Gulp, nectar of the Gods this brew is. Now, listen as your Chieftain speaks. We will join Ivar and raid with him in the Western Lands. You've all heard the tales of the majesty of wealth that has come out from there. It's time our clan grows wealthy and fat from the treasures of the West." With that he lifted his drinking horn and roared "Skol" Which Tyrion felt encouraged to repeat. Holding up his flagon he roared in unison with the other men around him. The clank of armor and weaponry being heard as some stood, "Skol!" With that the merriment of the night began.
Tyrion watched and drank as the others around him ate and groped at their wives. Some of them, he didn't understand how he knew, were groping at their Thralls. Thralls were slaves in their culture: people who had broken laws, refused to pay debts or been captured during raids or wars. None of this was making any sense to Tyrian. How did he know what a Thrall was? Why did he have a spear? And to his immediate shock, why was this gorgeous golden haired woman coming to sit on his lap while pouring him more beer in his now empty flagon.
"Olaf is this not a good sign? Our Chieftain is finally sailing into the West. We will have all the riches we need for our farm. Our children will want for nothing after you bring Thralls home with you, to do the harder labor." She kissed him. Kissed him right on the lips and even used her tongue. Something he had certainly never experienced yet. However, it felt familiar and he kissed her back placing his hand to the side of her cheek. Something he hadn't truly thought to reciprocate. Although this dream felt so real, it also felt less like he was in control and more like he was simply experiencing it.
"Yes Olga, I'm certain I will be successful in our raid and many Thralls will be brought back to our farm." He took another drink from the flagon. Only now realizing that the woman he had called Olga had called him Olaf. Not Tyrion, but Olaf. "Who in the hell is Olaf?" Tyrion thought to himself. As he did he heard the Screech of a car's brakes.
When he opened his eyes he was back in the rear seat of the car. "Well here we are young Tyrion. The orphanage for City 118." A warehouse-like complex sat in front of him with a single word on the sign above the dual front doors 'Orphanage 118.' Despite the city being a decently large place of over two hundred thousand inhabitants, they only had one orphanage for the whole city. He noticed that at the corners of his vision, something white and mist-like, faded away.
The door to the car opened and once again the social worker said to him. "Here we are, time to get out Tyrian. I'll help you bring in your things." He responded, "no I can handle them myself. Thank you for the ride." The man handed him his luggage after taking it out of the car's trunk and said. "There's no need to thank me, it's my job to bring you poor souls to the orphanage." He nodded to Tyrion, got back in the driver's seat of the car and promptly departed.
Tyrion stared at the word again above the dual doors, thinking to himself. "I have a faint memory of having those dreams before. Dreams that felt all too real. Always in that same setting. Always somehow knowing things in the dream that I have never learned or experienced in real life. I'm going to have to figure out what these dreams are all about."
I guess it's time to bite the bullet and get this over with. I'm an orphan now, and I guess that's why I'm going to live at this orphanage. The admission left a dry bitter taste in his mouth as he made his way to the doors.