NO title as of yet, but suggestions are welcome~

“Leave him somewhere. Just don’t let me see him again. He is a b*****d, and no son of mine. Nor has he ever been such a thing.” Ashtoreth Lochan Strata, a small boy of two years old stared up at the man whom he knew in his mind as father, looking between his father, and the man whom his father was handing him to. Scared out of his wits, the small boy clung to his father’s leg, only to be shaken off violently. “Take him! Before the b*****d touches me again.” Ashtoreth’s bottom lip started to quiver, as a single tear dribbled down his cheek.
“Kaine? Is this really you I’m talking to? Or have you swapped yourself with your own father? Why would you want to rid yourself of your own bonny lad? Is he not the child of you and Laura, younger brother to Xanthus and Megan? Is he not the boy that a mere two years ago, you were over the moon at the mere miracle of his birth? Is he not-“ Ronan Hettna, one of Kaine’s closest friends, was interrupted by Kaine.
“No, Ronan. This – this – b*****d child is not of these loins. Laura herself admitted to these fine ears that he was conceived outside of our marriage. She admitted herself that he is not my son. Can’t you tell? Xanthus, Megan, they both inherit something from myself, whether it be the black hair or the green eyes, or both. But he. . . He has nothing. He even has brown hair, which neither I nor Laura has, nor do any of our families have. And look at his skin! His skin is much paler than ours. He is almost as pale as a man from Scaleover. Hell, he probably is the son of a man from Scaleover.” Ashtoreth frowned in confusion from the words that escaped his father’s mouth. Most of them were too large for him to comprehend, but he did understand a few, like Scaleover. Why was his father talking about Scaleover with Uncle Ronan? Scaleover was one of the four regions of his country – the other three being Francescia, Sanctus and his own home region, Lockworth. So why bring Ashtoreth out of bed and over to Uncle Ronan’s house just to take part in discussion about Scaleover? How strange. Ronan sighed, taking up Ashtoreth in his arms, resting him on his sturdy hip as he bid farewell to Kaine.
“Where do you wish me to take him, Kaine? I cannot keep him myself, Maria would never allow it, nor could I face Laura again knowing I had her beloved youngest son in my house, when she is bound to miss him herself.” Kaine’s eyes narrowed, glancing between the young boy and the young man.
“Ronan, take him far far away from here. Leave him at a doorstep, with a note. And make sure on that note, it says the word b*****d at least once. For that is what he is. Now I must be gone, otherwise doubt might infiltrate this sturdy mind and make me take the boy back home. Lord knows it’s what Laura will have wanted me to think when she wakes up in the morning and finds his crib empty.” Ronan shook his head once more, and lifted Ashtoreth onto his horse, before mounting it himself. Without another word, Ronan rode off into the distance with the boy, not looking back once at Kaine, knowing that if he did, it would be with evil intent, for no man should abandon his child. Especially a child as young and vulnerable as Ashtoreth. For only Ronan knew the truth – for only Ronan knew the secrets of his own son.
“Now, Ash, m’boy. Where shall we take you? Scaleover? Sanctus? Or Francescia?” And for the first time that evening, the boy spoke a word. Maybe it was because he was out of the unfavorable company of Kaine Strata. Or maybe, it was because the youngling wasn’t afraid to speak anymore. Or maybe, as preposterous as it sounded, the reason was that Ashtoreth could feel the fatherly love that Ronan felt for the boy. Because no matter how hard he had tried to ignore it over the two years since that fateful night, he knew that Ash was his son. Sometimes Kaine forgot of Ronan’s past before he arrived into Lockworth. Ronan was a Scaleover boy, and so was Ash. It wasn’t hard to see, well, it wasn’t hard for everybody else to see apart from Kaine.
“Francescia, Uncle Ronan. Can we go to Francescia?” Ash mumbled quietly to Ronan, answering the previously asked question. Francescia, the most beautiful region by far. No wonder Ashtoreth had chosen it. It would also mean a new start for both of them. A new region, in which the Strata’s name was not known, and in which the Hettna’s looks were not recognised. It was perfect, and the boy was a smart boy for choosing it.
After many hours of riding, the pair finally halted inside the capital city of Francescia’s gates. Ronan waited for a few hours with Ash inside one of the local inns, spending the time saying goodbye to Ash, waiting until he fell asleep before taking him to a doorstep and leaving him there with a simple note which read –
“Ashtoreth Lochan Strata ;; B*****d son of Lockworth”
Ronan’s cursive handwriting filled the small scrap of paper on which he wrote the simple note. Unable to write anything else without either filling up the page or ruining it with tears, he bundled a sleeping Ash up tightly in his own jacket, and left him upon the doorstep of the unknown person’s house. Ronan kissed him quickly upon the forehead, before mounting his horse once more, and galloping off into the night. . .


[[ so this is my story, or the first part at least. Sorry for the swearing, but it isn't really swearing - seeing as it's based in medieval times, that is what they used to recognise children with no fathers as. ^^" Feel free to volounteer possible titles, for I have none.]]

How about the b*****d son ^^

xD Whilst I thought about that name, it wouldn't be practical, for there are another two sons. xP