HOOTERS

LIFE WITHOUT DADDY

It is a truth universally ignored that three royal brothers birthed from love, lust, and the chaos of emotional incompetence are destined to rip each other’s throats out; metaphorically, if you're lucky and literally, if you're from Eldrathia. Arche, the second-born and most hormonally blessed, made headlines when he found himself in the warm embrace of his cousin Enid. Yes, cousin. Yes, embrace. Don’t ask how. Ask why.

When news of this delightful family reunion reached Enid’s father, the Duke of the North and an uptight noble with the emotional range of a baby, he demanded Arche’s immediate banishment. Banishment was the only reasonable consequences Aurel, new king, full-time grudge-holder and part-time tyrant, agreed instantly. Not out of justice. But because even he couldn’t stomach the PR.

Thus, at the tender age of thirty-five, Arche was finally ejected from the only home he'd ever known, leaving behind sixty-eight illegitimate children, none of whom he could name, and only one of whom had his nose. No money. No goodbye orgy. Just a royal boot and the crushing realization that freedom was just exile in fancier shoes. But as all great disasters do, he fell in love. With a hooter. Well, a hybrid.

Now, hooter hybrids were a sight. Human-height, pale as snow, golden-eyed, with eyelashes curled like question marks and no hunch. Not as intelligent as the OG hooters, but still better than human. Arche met Ella, a deadly beauty with a sharp tongue and hips that sketched poetry with every step. They had two kids who to his surprise had faces. I guess the hooter gene is strong. it almost seemed like Arche had done the impossible of setting down with one person… until Pearl came along. Pearl was everything Ella was, plus a bossom that deserved their own kingdom. Ella urged Arche not to bring pearl into the house except it was too late as Pearl was already pregnant by the time she was brought into their home. The triangle stabilized eventually after weeks of banter. Barely. Arche finally slowed down not because he matured, but because juggling two women and three half-hooter kids left him too tired to sin properly.

Then came Aurel’s Decree because of fear of human extinction in Eldrathia:

‘No more human-hooter relations. No more mixing. No more love.’

Any human caught laying with a hooter would be forced to choose: the blade or the bonfire. And anyone who disobeyed? The hooter dies. Spies were placed. Soldiers stationed. Fear cultivated.

Arche and Pearl, being the subtle duo they were, thought nobody noticed their continued midnight rendezvous. They were wrong. Caught in the act pants down, dignity gone, they were dragged to the palace like mismatched laundry.

Aurel stood tall, draped in righteousness and paranoia. He ordered Ella and the kids be caged above a specially prepared lake of fire (yes, he had one built—no one questioned why). Arche was handed a sword. His options: behead Pearl or watch his entire family roast like Sunday barbecue.

The room held its breath. Arche gripped the sword. He shook. He sweated like a runaway prisoner being pursued. And then clink, the sword slipped. That one metallic kiss against the stone floor was all it took. The guards interpreted it as choice. The cage dropped.

His family screamed.

Arche screamed louder.

He didn’t hesitate. He dove into the flames armor and all, vanishing in a hiss of blood, smoke, and heartbreak. Aurel watched, unmoved, then waved his hand. Pearl was released. Not out of mercy, but boredom. five deaths was dramatic enough. Six would be overkill. If Aurel learned anything that day, it was that his younger brother could love and care for someone.

Pearl stumbled back to the village, ash in her lungs, grief in her mouth, and nothing but skin to cover her sorrow. She told them everything.

And the hooters, once helpful, once playful, became the monsters they were created to be,

Not because they were stronger.

But because they were smarter.