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...prologue... the rising sun
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Vienna is born on a warm morning in mid August.
The sun is just barely rising above the dusty clouds when she presents herself to the world, with tiny flicks of bright blonde hair much like her mother's, and a loud wail that would shatter the floor her parents have been walking upon — this is the first good sign that her lungs developed properly in the womb, because Vienna is born nearly two months before she was supposed to, not carried full to term. This day — August the fourteenth — is the first of many times Vienna will be anxious to leave a place where she should feel like she belongs. As is the custom of many pureblood families, the gender of the baby was never asked, and it was left up to whatever happens whenever the mother gives birth. The morning of the fourteenth, Malachi Lestrange is waiting outside his wife's hospital room in the eerie halls of St. Mungo's (he had requested — or persuaded, if you will — for a private suite, and his own team of reliable, pureblood healers), his eyes scanning a column of the Daily Prophet, every now and then rolling his eyes as he watches a halfblood he recognizes, or a obvious muggle born pass by.
