Mary had never given me trouble. She was a slender bud of promise, newly sprouted from my loins and the product of royal blood, so she’d come into our world as a princess should. The time I’d spent giving her life, tucked away in some pocket of Loess, hadn’t been memorable due to its brevity and quiet nature.
This time, I crumble to the ground in racking spasms of pain and somehow, without knowing, I know - this one is male. What other creature could possibly rip me open from the inside like a colt could? They start their lives by taking and then they continue that cycle, feeding off others and depositing their worthless seeds to create dozens and dozens of themselves. This creature is no different, a spawn like his father before him who had come and sewn my fields of plenty whenever it suited his tastes. Now Arthas was dead and here I was, left to cry out into the void of a haunted Sylva where no one will come to rescue me.
But I didn’t want rescue.
I wanted this boy out of me, so he could begin that cycle of feeding and sucking dry, of growing and sewing, fucking and killing. The quicker I was rid of him the quicker he could begin to grow apart from me and that was my hope: to clench my belly tight and bite my own tongue in mortified anguish, pushing him out and away from me all the while. He’s stubborn about it (they cling to what they don’t understand) and he fights me hard though I struggle. I’m lucky that he’s newborn, too weak in the end to stay put as my contractions shudder and cleave him free from inside.
Corban is the firstborn, slipping out into the red-gold world just as dusk begins to steal away the sunlight. I raise my head in acute pain and look over the undulating hills of my body to see him cloaked in skin so dark it’s almost black, interrupted with patches of irregular white. Snorting, I watch carefully to see the first signs of movement. He flicks one ear and then the other, both eyes blinking open just as the last rays of buttery yellow light fade. Soon will come the first feeding, and then after his whole life will follow. Mongrel. Handsome mongrel, I think of him, trembling while my legs stir underneath me because I need to rise and offer a swollen teat. I must give and give, forever.
But I can’t.
Instead I collapse again, sinking underneath a new wave of hot, prickling agony that leaves me screaming like a wild banshee. What’s this pain I feel? So delicious and so much more real than the augmented version given to me by the horned one … it brings me closer to death until it breaks, leaving me to realize that another foal has passed free of my womb and into this world. I’m left cramping, sobbing, coated in slick, black fluid that I swear comes from Pangea itself and still I manage to pull up my head and look. Another colt. Just skin stretched over bones, sore-covered and no sign of movement. He’s dead, I assume. I can’t manage to be sad.
What I can manage is to shift closer to him, squirming in pain but reaching out a hind hoof to touch his frail little body before I teleport us both away, leaving Corban exactly where I’d dropped him in the autumn woods. I’m not a bad mother, just a sensible one. What use do I have for a dead foal? I teleport us both to the Adoption Den and then I teleport only myself away, wiping my conscious clean once I’m back and near a very frightened Corban. Let the fairies find the remains of an unwanted twin and deal with it - such was their duty, after all. I have only eyes for my firstborn son now and for the future.
Wanna step to me better think twice, 'cause I look pretty but I ain't that nice
@[auroraelis] Neo TLDR: Rey gives birth to twins and thinks that Astroh is dead due to him being so infected by the plague, so she teleports herself and him to the Den then leaves him here before teleporting away. Up to you how much of this she sees