Chapter Text
I could always tell when he was scared; he got that same look in his eyes. One that he used to mask it, but it never worked on me.
I fixed the lapel of his vestments, "You're going to be just fine, you know."
He huffed a moment, "I just--I don't want to disappoint them."
I shook my head, taking him by the shoulders and pulling him into a hug, "There's nothing you could do out there that they haven't done; if they scold you for anything, I'll be happy to remind them of all the times they messed up standing where you stood."
"I know, mom, I know." He paused, pulling away, "I know you love them, mom...but do you ever wish you'd just run? That night, after dad had completed the ritual?"
It was a strange question, one I was completely unprepared for, "If I ran, my love," I tucked his curly black hair behind his ear, "I would've never had you. And you have always been my greatest gift. I knew from the moment I felt you for the first time that you would be amazing. I have yet to be proven wrong, and I know I never will be."
I paused, sensing this was more than what it seemed, "This life that I have lived, the choices I have made up to this point have all led me here, to you. To your ascension. I can't think that it all happened without reason, can you?"
His voice lowered to a whisper, "But what if I don't know what to do, what if I don't know what to say? They're expecting something amazing for my first one and I--"
I took his head in my hands, smiling to him, "You've practiced it a million times with your fathers; you're going to be just fine." I paused again, "But, when in doubt, let your heart speak."
"You always have so much faith in me--"
"And I hope you catch some of it and keep it with you; my son is extremely capable. He is very handsome, talented, and strong-minded."
He smiled at me, but not in an assured way; it was more to reassure me than the normal, pleasant connotation of a smile, "I'll try my best."
As he turned to walk away, toward the papal entrance to the chapel, I spoke under my breath, "That's all I can ask for."
The moment I held him in my arms for the first time was something I would never forget. The way his writhing and screaming ceased the moment his skin made contact with mine once again and his eyes opened. He appeared to gaze into me, not just my face and my features, but into my soul, too.
My son's eyes were not hazel, brown, blue, or black, nor did he share the white iris his fathers had, no. My son's eyes were a deep blood red shade, visible even then, when his eyes were supposed to be blue.
He was so beautiful, so perfect, with ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. With him in my arms, I watched his every movement. The way he moved his fingers, the way his pursed his lips, the movement of his eyes and his eyelids: examining every functionality of his being.
Once he was born, the afterbirth followed quickly and the line which had connected us for nine long months was finally severed. I was so encapsulated by him, I could've given a shit about anything else in the moment.
Never had I seen a baby quite like him; where other babies came out of the womb looking, for lack of a better word: rather ugly, he was undeniably beautiful. His perfect little rosy cheeks; eyes, the color of the devil, and yet so angelic and round as they saw the world.
I thought of all my months of questioning God, of wandering through the darkness of the world seemingly alone...I realized then, as I held the product of my labor in my arms, that my faith was renewed. Perhaps I would not worship Satan in the same way, perhaps I would never preform a ritual with my boys, but Satan was real. And he knew me, knew who I was and what I wanted...and he had given it to me.
I closed my eyes a moment, humming in pain. Another, more physical realization washed over me; I was fucking exhausted. It had been a grueling labor process, really...we had been in my bedroom from about six in the afternoon to six forty-five in the morning, whereafter our son was born in the chapel at exactly 7:06 in the morning. That wasn't including the light cramping I had been experiencing throughout the day, either.
It was Primo's hand that stopped my ogling at my child, "Piccolina, he must be hungry."
I nodded, "Can you--?"
He reached before me, pulling the small white string that held together the top of my nightgown and pulling the fabric down my shoulders until my breasts were revealed. I cradled my son's head and allowed him to drink the milk from my breast, which I had been stocking up on throughout the latter part of the pregnancy, his perfect little lips latching to me with ease. The pregnancy books warned that this could be difficult, that some women had to have special strategies to get their children to latch, but not him.
The sensation was strange, almost painful. But the moment was too full of endorphins for me to mind much.
"This altar is not the place to continue this," Secundo said, his eyes on the two of us. "She needs a doctor--"
"Already waiting," Copia said to us, "She arrived an hour ago."
I didn't have the desire to question how he knew to call one or even when he did. Terzo looked at me, swiping a sweaty clump of my hair behind my ear, "May I carry you, amore? I hardly think you can walk."
I merely nodded, eyes never leaving the baby in my arms. I grunted as his hands came beneath me, sighing as he pulled me into his chest.
Upon exiting the chapel, it was no surprise to me that the conjuration had gathered there, outside. The corridor was full of curious eyes; due to the amount of turmoil pressed onto many of the women before me as a result of the pregnancy, it did not surprise me that so many had come to bear witness.
I was immediately possessive of him. I did not want them to see his face as I clutched him closer to my breast. The distrust that passed through me was so uncharacteristic, and perhaps completely unfounded. The siblings of this church were very loyal; if one had asked me any other time whether I believed they would ever harm my son, my answer would've been emphatically no.
But I felt different, then. He was mine. I would never let someone come so close to harming him as Sister Imperator was, never.
Just as Copia had promised, there was a doctor waiting for us in my room. And, in order to be examined, I had to give my little baby to Terzo. I watched as their eyes met for the first time, followed immediately by the sound of his crying and shrieking.
The doctor smiled at it, "He's quite the mama's boy, isn't he?"
I was relieved to hear it. I kept my eyes on him as I was examined, as she sewed up the wreckage which I was determined not to look at for a while. She had offered anesthetic for that part, but I didn't want to sleep, not while he wasn't in my arms.
I was vehemently against anyone else even touching him, his fathers being the only ones I had made an exception for.
After several minutes of his crying, he finally began to settle. Despite him being in safe hands, perhaps some of the safest for him in the world, I feared what the quiet meant while I could not assure his breathing. I had to remind myself that his fathers were not stupid, surely they would be springing into action if were doing anything else besides sleeping or looking around.
As the woman finished her ministrations, the fatigue was at its peak. I wasn't ready to sleep at all, but my body craved it.
She then turned to Terzo, "If you could place him on the changing table, I'd like to check him, too."
I furrowed my brows, an urge to protect him coming over me quickly, devouring my senses. Primo came around the bed, then, and sat on the side furthest from everyone else, on my right. He placed his hand on my shoulder, "Terzo will keep him safe, dolce, he will be fine."
Yes, they could read my mind again. In a way, I felt relieved that they could.
Copia stood beside Terzo, his hand on his brother's shoulder as they both watched our son get his first checkup.
Soon, she came back to my bedside, "Well, that about does it. The baby should sleep pretty consistently for the next twenty-four hours or so; he shouldn't be much trouble for you."
Trouble?? How could he trouble me? There was nothing he could ever do--
She looked at me with that all-knowing cocky doctor--well, maybe that was just the mood I was in, but she told me, "I'd say the most important thing for you to do is rest. Your body needs it, and you do, too, if you want to be the best you can be for him."
She left after that, the six of us alone in that room. Part of me was astonished that I survived at all; I was thankful that Satan decided against taking me then. I would've been quite angry.
Terzo came toward me, baby still in his arms, and sat on the bed beside me. He angled his arms so I could see his perfect little face, "He is safe, amore mio, you must rest now. We will take good care of him, si?"
I hummed, "I know you will. I can't help it, you know, I worry for him--"
Secundo, who was standing at right beside me, placed his hand on my head, "He will be fine, piccolina. You have left us all plenty of milk for him to drink."
I sighed, "We haven't even named him, yet." My eyes were still on him, watching his peaceful little face, "I thought I'd know when I saw him, but there's no word that captures exactly what he's like."
"He should have a good name, a strong name," Terzo informed me, while looking at him, "Like Lucien."
I furrowed my brows, "Lucien? That's a bit conspicuous isn't it?"
Terzo looked at me, "What exactly would you have us name him, then?" He looked back to the baby, "Probably something boring, like Paul."
I pursed my lips, "Paul is a boring name. But, before you say it, I won't name my son after a number, either."
"It is the Emeritus way," Primo argued.
I rolled my eyes, "Knowing your father, he did that because he was lazy and he didn't want to keep track of you all."
Secundo's hand was still in my hair, still stroking it absent-mindedly, or perhaps completely mindedly, "How about Inizio?" He questioned.
"Beginning?" Copia asked, "You wish to name our son Beginning?"
"He is the beginning," Secundo argued, "The beginning of a new line, the beginning of our family." He pointed at the bedsheets, "This family."
"I like Inizio," I said, smiling passively.
Terzo furrowed his brows, "What will you nickname him? Inny? That's terrible. You are naming our son after a type of belly button."
I rolled my eyes at him, "No one will call our son Inny--"
"He needs a Satanic name, piccolina," Primo interjected, "He needs to be taken seriously."
I sighed, "Then can it at least be somewhat normal? Like," I looked at the ceiling, "What did they call the kid in that one movie you tried to show me, Copia?"
"Damien?" Copia asked.
I nodded, "That one: see, that one only sounds a little evil."
"It is...untraditional for one of his standing," Secundo said, "But I do not find it disagreeable."
"You want to name our kid after 'The Omen'? Talk about conspicuous," Terzo clicked his tongue.
I ignored him, "So, we have Damien, Inizio, Lucien," I rolled my eyes, "and Cinque, I guess."
Copia shrugged, "Damien Inizio Lucien Cinque Emeritus has a nice ring to it, no?" He had said it only jokingly, but I think we all knew then that the decision had been made.
Secundo's hand stopped in my hair, patting my head twice, "Sleep now, piccolina."
I leaned over, resting my head on Secundo's shoulder, "Will you all stay?"
His hand continued its movement, "Yes, piccolina...for as long as you wish."
I couldn't describe the level of sleep I received after that; a sleep as deep as a coma, unrelenting and completely silent, dreamless.
When I awoke again, my body had slouched further down into the bedsheets. Secundo wasn't beside me, but Terzo was. His hand was exactly in the place that Secundo's was previously, gently stroking my hair.
He was speaking, too, in low tones, like one would in prayer:
"Brucio per te, amore mio. Mi hai dato ciò che nessuno avrebbe mai potuto...figlio mio; un figlio da chiamare mio." He paused for a moment, and I thought he was finished, but then i heard his voice once more, "Non si potrà mai ripagare un simile sacrificio. Quello Scuro è in te, amore mio. Ti ha tenuto al sicuro, ti ha tenuto amato. Spero che tu possa vedere quanto ti adora, quanto io ti adoro, amore mio."
I reached for him, touching his soft dress shirt.
He took my hand, bringing it to his soft lips and kissing it, "Good Morning, amore mio."
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Eight or so," he replied.
I furrowed my brows, "Really? That wasn't nearly as long as I thought it would--"
Oh. Eight in the morning the next day.
He reached across himself, warming my cheek with his hand, "You were very tired, it seems, amore."
I nodded, "Where is everyone?" I began to sit up carefully, ignoring the pain ever present in my groin.
"Secundo has gone to get breakfast for the three of us; he told me he was going to wake you, if you weren't already, by the time he returned. Primo and Copia have taken nostro piccolo for a stroll in the garden."
I hummed, "Has he been good?"
Terzo smiled, "It was hard to get him to leave the room, amore. He cried and cried, when he couldn't see you. He gets very upset, if he does not see you every hour. It seems he is just as protective of you as we are."
I furrowed my brows, "He's not supposed to have object permanence."
He sighed, "We have already tested this; he could not keep track of Secundo's signet ring...but, despite this, he does seem to have mommy permanence."
I laughed, "What did you call me?"
"That is what you are, is it not?"
I was smiling widely, "No, no, I just want to hear you say it again."
"Mommy," he said, matter-of-factly, "Do you like it so much?" I recognized the change in his voice with that statement.
I shook my head, "Six weeks, my love."
Terzo looked at me, smiling just as much, "Ah, yes, we must give your womb time to heal after she has done so much for us." He sighed, "I shall save my cruelty for later, amore, but know that I intend to make this time period apart as painful for you as it is for me."
My lips flattened, "Terzo, you can go do what you need to do, it's okay."
"I know when you are lying, amore mio."
It was true, it was a lie, but, once again those words came tumbling out of my mouth, "My jealousy is not your burden to bear."
He scoffed, "An idiot said that once."
I shook my head, "Terzo, there are girls here that love you, I'm sure--"
"And I am not above fucking them. Just not while you can't fuck anyone: it isn't fair, amore. You have given me nine months of labor, put your blood and sweat into making us an heir. Your body is tired, beaten, and battered; I would be an asshole to not devote every moment of my time to you and our son. You two mean...everything to me; more than the liquor, the music, and the fucking. I will wait as long as you need me, amore, and then longer still."
I closed my eyes. Few people were ever as loved as I...how lucky I was to have it given to me, to not have to search for it.
The door to my room opened again, revealing Secundo, who was carrying a massive tray of food all by himself, "Good morning, piccolina."
I smiled, "Good morning."
I was eager to eat, nearly ravenous, as it had been nearly two whole fucking days. Once he set the tray on my lap, Terzo tried to quickly steal one of my boiled eggs, which led to Secundo slapping his hand away, "She eats first; we'll take what's left or get more."
Terzo furrowed his brows, "You have put our entire kitchen on her plate, fratello."
"She hasn't eaten in two days."
I wasted no time, eating everything I could rather quickly, which did end up being the entire thing. At the moment, my stomach was completely bottomless; I realized then how much nausea I had been experiencing throughout the duration of the pregnancy and how I had written it all off as normal.
Primo and Copia would return to the room only a few minutes later, my baby with them. He was cleaned off, when Primo handed him to me, and evidently happy to see me. He made little happy noises.
I couldn't help the smile that crossed over my face every time he was near me. He was simply too cute for words, too beautiful to be really mine.
"No, cara," Copia sat down beside me. "Look at us, amore; there is nothing soft about our features. Our noses are harsh, our chins jut out...every part about us is very square. So, everything on him that is delicate and soft is because of you. From the curve of his cheeks to the curl of his toes."
I shook my head, "He has Terzo's eyes...and your nose." I gently touched his chin, "And this is Secundo's." I smiled at Primo, "He has your ears."
Primo smiled in return, "You know...we took him outside, to the new garden, piccolina. We sat in the chair swing and listened to the birds in the trees. Then, I knelt down by the stones, with nostro piccolo in my arms and I told him of all of his siblings that never were. I held him so he could see the stones...and then he reached out toward them, until I moved him close enough that his little hand was on the surface." He paused, sighing, "He may look like us, dolce...but it is you who he takes after. His heart is strong."
"May Satan help him, in that case," Secundo replied.
I looked to Copia, "Take him," I said. It was difficult to part with him willingly, but I wanted a shower desperately.
There was an ice pack beneath me, I could feel it, but what I desired most was the warm water pouring over my skin.
Copia reached over me and took the baby from me, looking at him softly.
I patted Terzo on the chest, "I want a shower."
At my whim, he stood up and helped me take my first steps. Secundo followed the two of us, his hand gently on my back. It wasn't too painful per se, rather my muscles felt stretched out, loose, and unpredictable.
I leaned against the cabinets as Terzo turned my shower on, looking down at the loose skin of my stomach. I still looked pregnant, in the early stages of showing, though in a much sadder, droopy way.
However, despite how I initially felt about it, I reminded myself that it was the price to have something as beautiful as my son...and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Terzo stepped into the shower after having undressed himself; it was funny to me how easily they did so in front of each other...it made me wonder just how many times they'd had threesomes with the same sister.
I sighed, stripping away the white shift which had been covered in my blood. I could hear the sound of my sheets being changed outside; thank fuck.
I stepped into that shower with him, taking hold of his forearms as I did so. Secundo held the small of my back, ensuring I would not fall.
I laid my head against Terzo's chest, "A while ago, Secundo, you told me I'd produce heirs until I couldn't anymore...when am I supposed to--"
"As soon as possible," he answered quickly, but there was a somberness about him that I couldn't explain. He paused, "For your sake, piccolina, I was hoping that, when our child left you, Our Dark Lord's hunger for you would leave with him, but...it has not. And I don't perceive that it ever will."
I frowned, "Can we...just maybe...like, one extra week? I really would like to try some of the wine you mentioned. And," I looked up at Terzo, "The dancing; I want to go dancing and not feel sick at all."
I looked back at Secundo. A while ago, it would've been simple. He would've told me no, quite vehemently, I might add. But his expression told me that he was struggling with this decision. Secundo finally nodded, "You have two months, piccolina."
I smiled at him. Something about him was so different than the man I remembered before; his expression no longer sent chills down my spine. If anything, I felt the safest with Secundo; he was so commanding and decisive, he always seemed to know what to do, "Thank you."
After my shower, we all reconvened back in my bedroom. I sat on my ice pack, with new sheets (and a new mattress, in fact; apparently, I had bled through the last one) and a new nightgown. I should add, too, that I was essentially wearing a diaper, due to the bleeding.
I sat on my cold pack and reached for my baby, who was still with Copia. Immediately in my arms, his head turned, his little fist coming up to his mouth. I remembered from the pregnancy books: the fist in the mouth means hungry.
I brought him to my breast, where again he drank without issue. I felt so close to him, when he was like that. He was so peaceful...I felt it was nature's way of keeping us close after the two of us had become independent of one another.
Terzo tilted his head and pouted, "I must admit, it is in times like these that I am very jealous of nostro piccolo."
"Yes, why haven't you let us taste your milk, cara?"
I furrowed my brows, "It's for the baby. You don't need any."
Terzo pointed to my breasts, "They are quite full, I am sure Damien would not miss the small amount we will take for ourselves."
Copia pointed upward with his index finger, "And, he has plenty in the freezers."
"You go drink the ones from the freezer; he deserves it fresh from the tap." I retorted.
Terzo rolled his eyes, "You just don't get it, do you, amore? It is not about the milk, it's about sucking it from the breast."
Primo shook his head, "We tried giving nostro piccolo the freezer milk; he doesn't drink half as much as he is drinking now. He prefers the breast."
Terzo shook his head, "I can't blame him."
I looked to Primo, "And you say he takes after me? It seems like he has one thing on his little mind." I looked back at my son, to find his eyes staring back at me, those blood red eyes, "Were your eyes like his were, when you were born?"
Primo came closer, to look at his irises again, "No, piccolina, though the eye can take years to develop."
We continued to stand guard over him; after his meals, he got very sleepy and would often drift off. Of course, Damien didn't enjoy the comfort of his crib. He much preferred to be held and rocked by hand.
I looked down at him and smiled, stroking his little dollop of jet black hair on his head.
I had always been of the opinion that love comes in abundance, that it is an unbound forever obtainable substance in our world. But, when you become a parent, you realize just how little about love you truly knew.
You begin to see that what you once thought was simply a two dimensional shape is actually a living thing that changes its shape to the contours of the people and moments that it surrounds.
At the very least, I was right, love is in abundance. However, what I didn't know was just how much of it there actually was. I didn't think my heart could contain so much of it.
And there I sat, tears welling in my eyes, an essence of pure love leaking from my body and soaking the little blanket in which my newborn was wrapped.
My heart was full, and I knew, then that it would be for a very long time.