(MMmmm)

I didn't mean to, but the evil thing grew

Maven wrapped his teenage hands around you, burying his head into your shoulder. He has missed his mother since her recent death. And he has been so happy you were here with him. He remembers seeing your beautiful face with the chandelier's looming night over your tinted lips. He remembers you, so unique, so lovely and so close to being his. 

And now everything seems so perfect, you are the positivity in his life. You are happy and charitable. Even if you are a whisper, one from the Lakelands. That doesn't matter to him. He knows your kind soul and knows you'll never hurt him. He knows.

Until a tree bloomed and it bore fruit

And he places a hand on your stomach, trying to feel for his not-yet-born child. And you smile at him with your 16-year-old lips. Lips he loves so much. Lips he has memorized the taste of.

You imagine your perfect family. You can almost picture being the type of mother who hums tunes in the garden at the suns awakening. Having a child was something you rarely have thought of. Rarely, until you met Maven. And you knew you wanted to have his child.

They had a bad father, and now I've made for him a memory

And Maven is the love of your life. But he never acts like it. He spends most of his days in his study, scared of his mother and mourning his dead lover. And you are almost ready to have the child. You want his support, but you are so scared of wanting him to know your need for him. Your yearning for your fiancé. 

And Maven left one day, heartbroken with his cape draped across his shoulders as he walked out the door. You remember the sight, as you will never forget it. He looked like he was on a mission. You hope he didn't forget about his child. You hope his obsession didn't win over his mind.

Remember me? The one that bore your seed?

And the pain, the pain you felt when you birthed your first child. The pain you felt when Maven was not there. And the pain you felt when a second child followed after. A set of twins. You couldn't even remember their names as you rest your head to sleep. And at the same moment your head hit the pillow, Maven's knee hits the concrete as he kneeled for the king and was punished for his love of you.

Well now they sleep

And Maven returned to you on his knees once again, holding his own child in his hands with shock as the other one was revealed to him. He kissed your hands and whipped away his own tears. He muttered out an apology that you turned your head away from. Seeing you with a child in your hands seemed to make him blink, realizing what he had sacrificed. He can't even think of the girl in the basement as he holds you close, swearing to never leave you again.

I lined 'em up one by one, daughter and son from old to young

You stand your children in a line, crouching down in front of them. A girl and a boy, the girl more than half his size. They have already been enrolled in their etiquette classes, and seeing your daughter sitting at the table makes you happy she never got to meet her grandmother. Whatever Elara would do to her.

You made sure to not find out. And now, with her body down below, you're happy you never will.

"Time to be proper, yes?" You whisper. They exchange glances before looking back at you. You can see the way they fix themselves from under your gaze. The lifting chin, the straight back, and squared shoulders. They are already fit to rule. 

You almost feel proud.

Crying, I baptized them

Maven can only watch you as you lift your son's chin and made him look you in the eyes.

"We don't put our elbows on the table, child." You sternly say, adding a smile on your face to ease the mood. "We learn from mistakes, yes?"

"But mother-"

"No buts. Look at your sister and learn."

Your daughter inhaled greatly, trying to hide the smile of pride on her face. Sometimes you hate looking at her, as she is the mere image of you. The hair, the skin, even the shape of her nails. She looked nothing like her brother.

"And child," you put your hand on his shoulder, "stop biting your nails."

Maven put a fork full of food in his mouth, trying to swallow the uneasy feeling that corrupted him as he stares at his son, who slowly removed his elbows from the table.

I'm sorry, my child, close your eyes for a while, mommy loves you, goodbye

The bottom of your cup reaches the sky before being slammed onto the table again. You glance at Maven, who runs around with the kids. The three of them looked so happy. But you can still hear Satan talking to you.

You have to be the perfect mother, for you love your children. But some visions in your head scare you to death. All you want is for them to be happy, and for them to be perfect. No, what you wanted was the most beautiful little girl whom you could grow into a queen. Instead, you got two. You never deserved two.

You eye Maven as he smiles with both of them. He looks so happy. So happy with two children. So happy with you, across the room. So happy with the life he has now.

You squeeze the glass until it breaks.

They were the sweetest, remember how they needed us?

You put your daughter in the cutest black dress, tightening the ribbon around her waist as she braids her bangs. Julian stands near, tieing a bow that was around your son's neck. You don't look at them, but Julian can't get his eyes off of you. He gets the worst feeling when he sees you by the children. He never trusted whispers. He squints his eyes. And your son looks at Julian, almost hearing something from that man's head.

Your son speaks, "You are evil, you are wicked. Your raising a wicked seductress."

Julian removes his hands from your son, who laughs. And you just pretend not to hear. But your daughter does not.

I'm sorry, my angels, but the world is not a safe place for babies

You watch the window as the train leaves, Maven leaving with your daughter. You chew your fingers, not your fingernails. You can feel your legs trembling as you hear your son screaming. 

"Mommy, mommy!" He runs around the room. You can feel the bone of your index finger between your teeth. Your heartbeat raises in your throat. You don't yell at your children. You promised Maven that. You would never yell, so you hold it in. You hold it in even when your son grabs onto your dress, yanking at the ends. And all you do is grab his head quickly, making him fall asleep. And he falls to the floor before you cradle him close to you. All you can do is bask in the silence as you feel his slow breath against your neck. You loved the silence.

They won't blame me, my whole life's been wasted

You can see Mare in the hallways, walking with the silencers by her side. You stop in front of her. You hold your son's tired body in your hands. She just stares at you. You are surprised when she doesn't weaken from under your uncanny presence. She is as solid as stone.

"How old were you?" She asks. 

"It was when your father lost his lung," you say softly before passing her. 

"And his legs," your son adds under his breathe. You smile. You are happy you know which ability your son had possessed.

"Yes, my child, and his legs."

The crime was committed against me first when I gave birth

Your son was never quite the same after that, and you're sure everyone had noticed. He was quieter, softer spoken. He listened to you more and didn't like to play with his father anymore. Maven didn't like to look you in the eyes. He was afraid to know the truth. So he held onto his daughter, so happy he had taken her with him that day. 

You make sure the always tie the bow around your son's neck now, loving how blue his eyes are and how black his hair is. It makes you feel a tingle of satisfaction of his recent break.

But the cons start to take form as Maven begins to talk to the lightning girl more often.

You begin to raise the bottom of cups again, staring at the ceiling as you try to listen in to those silent stone walls. Whatever are they talking about?

Your son leaves his room with twitches and your daughter leaves with her chin high. All you want is silence, and they begin to learn that. 

Still, Maven makes sure to hold onto you tightly with his hands around your waist. Almost keeping you capture in his love. He breathes in your scent and reminds himself of the things he wants to last. He holds onto every moment he has with you.

I'm not a nurturer, so I sent them innocent back to Earth

Your son wipes tears from his eyes as he caresses his bleeding knee. He has slipped and fallen on a hard wooden floor. You take a moment to watch him try to hold in his tears before the healer walks in. Your daughter sits on her bed, trying to focus her gaze out of the window. He doesn't even look at you as you swipe his hair away from his eyes, breathing in and trying to delete his sadness. You cannot stand to see him sad.

"Where is my father?" He asks with a light voice. 

You purse your lips together and run your tongue past the back of your teeth. 

"He's in his office."

"Why?"

You don't answer as you press your thumb into his temple, reminding him of the woman you saw in the hall that day. You almost burn the image into his head.

"My dear, it'll only be us for a while." Your son smiles, wrapping his hands around your neck as he holds you close. Your daughter sniffs, closing her eyes tightly. She didn't like the sight. Even though she always wanted her brother to get the love she always got, somehow this doesn't feel the same. 

And right before you walk out of the door, you can hear your son talking to his sister.

"Mother's not wicked, why would you think that?"

Now I'm standing here reminiscing, sharpening these knives in the kitchen

You wrap bandages around your fingers, too scared of the healers to get the bite marks away. You haven't seen Maven in a day. 24 hours without the love of your life to hold you tight. And you begin to fear your children, your daughter who glares at you and your son who never holds a face. It's scary to think those things came from you, that they are your own flesh and blood.

You haven't seen the sun in days.

You only remember the day the were born. You only remember the absence and their screams.

I think he'll be coming soon, I wonder if he'll miss them

When they were born, so pure and happy. So loud and obnoxious, like children are supposed to be. And now you all sit at the dinner table, quiet and reserved. Maven can't stand it. He think to when he was young and his mother would gaze down at him with daggers. 

And he looks at the way you look down at your son.