Moonspear the minor fall, the major lift

Hydra heard him, and in her heart agreed. Innocent though they were, that they might live would be a reminder of what their lives had cost her family. His words brought about a dark look upon her features. The blood of a bastard will never hold any merit or worth, here, except perhaps to the weeds and other scavengers. What opportunity could they find? There is nothing but dishonor in their story—and the seed father planted... well, it was not his finest year, she drawled. There could be no comparison to what he had produced in years past to what had been born of pure stupidity.

Hydra snorted. If they find such things within them, we will rip all that and more from them. Together. The Queen decided at length, and looked to him. ..we will be prepared, and prepare my children for such a thing. She did not feel the slightest bit threatened by even the prospect, but that did not mean she would not work as though they were the most formidable thing she might ever face; it was how she treated all she fought against. Better to overestimate than to be lazy; if they came to face her, her family, they would know nothing but for the feel of her endless, unyielding violence [her families, too] and the taste of their own iron in the end.

But they, if they existed yet, were children. All things began harmless, she knew, and perhaps the wisest thing might be to remove them before a problem could come to be. Her moral code was painted the color of survival, but they did not factor into the shade, and it felt a spineless thing to do. Hydra's own mercy seemed to find its end there; what benefit could there be, them coming to reside here? That they shared Speedy's blood was a near-guarantee that she could never trust them. Such a thing could be inherent, and she would not risk it. At his musing, Hydra snorted: that would be convenient. It would be, and it was not beyond the realm of possibility, either. Nature could be cruel.