It had been late in the season when he had come to her, spinning his fantasy of happily ever after. Or almost, anyway. There was a dragon in his tale, and it lingered over his shoulder even while they lay together. His wife.
She had welcomed him, though. She always did, even now when she knew she was the other woman. The other other woman, if she was being really honest with herself. If there was ever a time for honestly, it was now.
Soon, so soon that she had been certain that it had gone wrong. That her body had rejected their coupling as a sign from the gods that theirs was a damned romance. It had taken her by surprise that she was pregnant at all. There had been no sign of it in the brief weeks after he had gone home. No swelling of her belly, or uneasy stomach. Life had gone on as usual, just her and her half-grown tigerling in the island's sun.
When the spasms had started, they were mild enough to be dismissed as something badly eaten. A simple roiling in her gut that hadn't phased her much. As the day had worn on however, the feeling had intensified. Pressure, insistent and demanding had pushed her to the water. Anything to relieve the odd weight that had seized her.
It was there, and then it passed. She'd more than half expected flatulent gasses bubbling behind her. That's what it had felt like. The water warmed around her thighs instead, and a surprised glance backwards drew her attention to a golden slip of something beneath a ribbon of blood. The water rolled over it, threatened to drag it deeper into her bay, away from her. She grabbed it first. Teeth met leathery toughness. Curling ropes reached for her on the cresting wavelet, and a dark heart nestled in the center of the strange object. This was not how it was supposed to be.
Her first fear was that this was all that would exist of their child. Some bizarre malformation that might have been a foal in another mare's womb. She couldn't breath for long moments, before a different memory reached through the fog of invoking panic. It was large. Much larger than any previous specimen she had seen. But the resemblance was there. An eggcase, translucent and rugged, with the very beginnings of life held within. Her child.
That had been moons ago, the eggcase had been anchored in the shallows of her bay, just deep enough that low tide would not expose it to the drying air. She had introduced Halcyon to the burgeoning sibling, and had set wards of stone and water to keep the more curious sea creatures away from it. And so the golden life began to form.
She had minded it closely, watched with fascinated adoration as what had began as a shadow in the case expanded, developed. For a small span of days, she had been able to watch the humming heart beating frantically in the sunlight before the flesh had knit over it. The shape had taken form over days and weeks. It would be a lie if she had said she'd somewhat expected that the little thing would look more fish than horse, but legs curled under the covers, a finely shaped head pressed into the steadily shrinking space.
When other mare's sides were stretching wide, then slimming down once more with the arrival of new foals, Aquaria knew it wouldn't be long. Her sides were curved no more than usual, but the anticipation was the same. This was the expectation she had missed with Hal. When the days were stretching toward long summer heat, she began to worry again that something had gone wrong. There was no more space inside the purse, she could no longer distinguish limbs and body within the darkened walls. If it went much longer, she would tear the case open herself, and mourn whatever potential had died within.
She needn't have worried.
The moon was a sliver in the sky, barely anything at all when he hatched. He had wriggled and pushed for all he was worth, straining at the tight bounds that had been his haven for an eternity. It was tiring work, dark and cold, but at last the husk gave way. From that first tear it had been a much simpler thing to rush from containment into the endless ocean.
He had shot into the starlit waters without aim, drawn to the deep with instinct he was too young to understand or fight. The enthusiasm was there, even if the coordination was not. Between the confusion of his limbs and the stones set at the cove's mouth to keep the hungry out, it kept him in. He splashed experimentally within his new world for a few minutes, before the sheer experience of living in a world so much larger than he was overwhelmed the colt.
Already he was improving in his swimming efforts, enough so that to reach the shore was an easy task. There were large mounds piled against the sand some way up the shore, whistling air flowing along them. He paused where the water still lapped at his heels, sudden exhaustion overcoming his tiny strength. With the fragment of moon lighting on his pale, hairless skin, the newly born nereid curled up between sea and sand, waiting to be discovered.