Hans Can Be Your Hedgehog

When the merchant had wished for a son, no matter what the circumstances, he had not in his wildest dreams thought that those circumstances might be that his son would be the unholy combination of hedgehog and human.
He knew something was wrong when the midwife shouted and dropped the child on the ground with a thud so she could pull a quill from one of her fingers. As he glanced at his newborn child, he began to regret his wish. The child’s snout pointed up at his father curiously and his wide eyes glittered with hope. The merchant turned away and retched.
Out of spite, he named his newborn Hans My Hedgehog, the sort of alliteration typically reserved for children’s books and poetry. This name also ensured the child would always be branded with his deformity as his defining feature. The merchant smirked at his cleverness.
However, the merchant did have a heart, so, he let the child stay until it could be decided if any money could be made of this ridiculous situation.
Over the years, Hans grew up to be precisely the same as what he was in his youth: a horrifying hedgehog man. There was little change, and he showed little promise. Not only was Hans not particularly good at anything, but most jobs he attempted simply ended with people being too scared to have anything to do with him.
As soon as Hans turned eighteen the merchant decided he’d had enough.
“Hans!” he called, never able to fully brace himself for his sons hideousness. Hans came to his father’s side immediately.
“Yes pa?” he called, in an odd sort of squeaking voice that tore at the eardrums of any spoken to.
“I think it may be time for you to leave.”
“But…” Hans’ normally sparkly eyes grew slightly dull, “what will I do?”
The merchant thought briefly about what sort of lie he might tell Hans, and suddenly noticed some bagpipes that his recently deceased grandfather had left that were gathering dust.
“You will take these bagpipes,” the merchant stood and grabbed the bagpipes, then thrust them into Hans’ arms, “and you will become an expert with them,” the merchant once again couldn’t help but admire how clever and oh so dashingly handsome he was.
“Wow! I will go to the market and play them…”
“No!” the merchant interrupted. The market was far to close, he didn’t want to have to run into Hans, “you must practice somewhere far away from here. Umm… maybe out in the woods or something!”
Hans eyes had regained their normal light, and this seemed fine with him. “Alright,” Hans smiled and began walking from the home.
On his way out the gate, he noticed his pet chicken that his father had been talking about cooking and eating.
“Do you want to go with me Clucksworth?” Hans asked the chicken.
The chicken screeched meaninglessly.
“Excellent! You will be my steed!” Hans mounted the chicken, and together they ran toward the forest.
Once in the woods, Hans and the chicken stood alone, as the bagpipe screeched even louder than the chicken. Hans had little experience in anything, let alone playing bagpipes, and the horrible call of the mistreated instrument drove a king to approach the woods.
“Who is in there?” he called out. He was on his way back to the castle from his first, and only day at the market. He thought it may be a good idea to go to the market personally, so he could connect with the townsfolk, but it ended up that he was already too disconnected, and he had now gotten lost. “Do you know the way to the castle?” he called out to the mysterious, phantom screech of the bagpipes. “If you know the way to the castle I will give you my daughter,” he said, clearly the product of patriarchy.
Hans eyes lit as the large man stepped into the clearing the hedgehog man and chicken had claimed as their own.
“I know the way to the castle! My pa never wanted me in the house, so I’d just wander. I’ve memorized all paths in the entire kingdom!” Hans jumped with excitement. Hans’ excitement excited the chicken, who squawked and ran in circles.
“What the fuck?!” the king shouted suddenly, stumbling backwards away from this odd, loud spectacle.
“Would you like me to help you?” Hans asked, now standing still. Again, the chicken mimicked him, and sat.
“Ummm…” the king mumbled, trying to regain his composure. He considered his options. He could die in the woods alone and cold, never to see his beloved castle again, and throw the kingdom into chaos due to his current lack of an heir. Or, he could follow this small hedgehog man home. It was a difficult choice, and the woods remained silent for some time.
“Please,” Hans begged, baring his tiny fangs as he stretched the word.
“Alright,” the king said, scared of what Hans might do to him if he were to say no. “Show me the way hedgeboy and chicken.”
Sure enough, Hans knew the way to the castle, and as the odd trio arrived the princess ran out to greet her father.
“Daughter! You are exactly who I need to speak to! I am afraid I have given your hand in marriage to this… thing,” the king decided it best to rip the bandage off quickly, so he spewed these words before the princess had even reached them.
She stopped and looked down at Hans. He smiled, and his fangs glinted in the sun. The chicken cocked its head to one side curiously, as if awaiting what was sure to come.
“Alright,” the princess shrugged.
“Really?!” both the king and Hans yelled.
“Yeah. Why not.”
And so, that is how Hans, who began life as a poor, hideously deformed boy, became the prince of the kingdom. And while this would be a good place to say they lived happily ever after, that is not true, and there is more of the story. Because in no world would poor Hans ever live happily ever after.
Nevertheless, in the days leading up to the wedding, he did live fairly happily. He was treated as part of the royal family, since he would be soon enough. And, while it took some time for them to get used to him, the princess made sure the servants treated him with nothing but respect and kindness. After all, the servants were lesser people, even more so than a hedgehog man.
When the wedding day finally came, Hans could not have been happier. He felt that he had found his place, and knew that his father would be proud (in truth, the merchant had heard of Hans fate one day in the market, and had tried to write letters requesting his rightful place in the castle as the prince’s father, none of which had made their way to Hans). Hans smiled as his small, black lips touched those of the beautiful princess, his inability to curve them into a kiss now being depressingly realized by the princess.
As they parted the princess opened her eyes. She looked angrily at Hans. Hans smiled at her.
“I thought you were going to become a prince!” she shouted. Hans suddenly grew confused. He looked out at all of the townsfolk who’d come to the wedding.
“N- no. Wh- wh- what do you mean?” Hans mumbled. The sparkle in his eyes had been dulled more than ever.
“Like that frog the princess in our rival kingdom married. He’s super hot now! Didn’t a witch or something do this to you?”
A voice from the crowd shouted. “No! He was born that way! And he stole my chicken!”
Hans turned to see that it was the merchant. His own father. His eyes began to water. Their sparkle was gone entirely, now just the dull eyes of a hedgehog, with no human in them.
It didn’t matter what they thought. It didn’t matter what the princess thought. Hans was the prince now, and there was nothing to be done about it. And soon enough he would be king. And once he was king, then he could show them how they’d wronged him, and what this hedgehog was capable of.
Then he’d prove there was no such thing as happily ever after.