adust

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ONCE UPON A time there was a king who had three beautiful daughters. He gave them whatever their hearts desired, and when they grew of age their marriages were celebrated with grand festivities.

When the youngest daughter gave birth to a baby girl, the king and queen were overjoyed. Soon afterward, the middle daughter gave birth to a girl of her own, and the celebrations were repeated. Last, the eldest daughter gave birth to twin boys—but alas, all was not as one might hope.

One of the twins was human, a bouncing baby boy; the other was no more than a mouseling. There was no celebration. No announcements were made. The eldest daughter was consumed with shame.

One of her children was nothing but an animal. He would never sparkle, sunburnt and blessed, the way members of the royal family were expected to do. The children grew, and the mouseling as well. He was clever and always kept his whiskers clean. He was smarter and more curious than his brother or his cousins.

Still, he disgusted the king, and he disgusted the queen. As soon as she was able, his mother set the mouseling on his feet, gave him a small satchel in which she had placed a blueberry and some nuts, and sent him off to see the world.

Set out he did, for the mouseling had seen enough of courtly life to know that should he stay home he would always be a dirty secret, a source of humiliation to his mother and anyone who knew of him. He did not even look back at the castle that had been his home. There, he would never even have a name.

Now, he was free to go forth and make a name for himself in the wide, wide world.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd come back one day, and burn that fucking palace to the ground.