It wasn't until a few years had passed that the child's peculiar lineage began to show. As it did, the prospect of his lone son having naught but a fruitful career as  a travelling freak show artist began to weigh heavily on the father's shoulders. 

"I dare not consider it", he would say to his beloved horse-lady while she ate horse-radish. Yet, deep in his heart, he dared, and he wept for doing so.

"Had I not told you, my love, she neighed in response, that our offspring would suffer a fate crueler than that of the loneliest street urchin, when you first came to me in that meadow?

- Yes, you had, my lady.

- And had I not told you that greatness would be born from the very same cruelties?

-Yes, you said something about that, too. I think."

But to be honest, he had not paid attention at the time. He had been too troubled by the unicorn's proposal. He was wondering how they would do it. It didn't seem right, and it had troubled him. But she had assured him that magic was a wonderful thing. A nighttime spill, an erotic dream was all that would be needed.

Then he would have a son, despite his seed being severely lacking, both in strength and in numbers. That was the nature of the deal.

And it had to be true. He had heard it straight from the horse's mouth.

As his mind lingered on that fateful night where he had gone to bed in the haystack, he was brought back to his present distresses by his lady-horse.

"Our son is eight summers old, now. Bring him to the trolls in the East. They'll have him work alongside their own for one year, and their blood will mingle with his as they toil and build the bridges your king has requested. From it, our child shall be blessed a first time."



The End

9 comments about this exercise Feed