He toweled birth fluids off his hands; the colt
tottered to his mum’s waiting teat to eat.
A tickle in his mind, a soft slide, no jolt,
just a smile as the connection that cheats
the miles ‘tween his mind and mom’s cemented.
Her much-missed voice in his head, soft and sweet,
praised the colt he’d helped birth; sad news dented
his mirth; his captive grandpa’s dead; grief beat
him down, twelve years of mind-talk, no contact,
not safe ma’d said. He kicked the mask, pining.
No masked fete for him, not when this contact
had broken his heart. “Are the stars shining?”
mom asked. He tilted his head, let her see
sharp pricks of stars ‘gainst black, that was her plea.
~ ~ ~
Guilt pricked him that his mom could only see
the spangled sky through his eyes. Her prison
was a cave. She watched, content to see
through his eyes. A cluster of pinpricks on
the dark curve of the lake marked her prison cell.
“Don’t think like that, my son, go to the ball.”
He ran, followed Neverthrall’s curve–to hell
with the masque. He’d save his mom or he’d fall
into prison with her. Mist rose, his feet
veered from his goal due to the confusion
born of his mom’s mind; her control’s complete.
“Let me go to you, ma,” he petitioned.
“I love you my son. You must stay away.”
“No, I’ll find a way–stay alive–just stay…”
~ ~ ~
She wiped away tears as she turned her son back.
Twelve years ago she’d secreted him out.
It tore her heart each time she turned him back.
Outside her cell, a masked man paced about.
One of her many jailers, and the one
who’d sought to shame her, give himself a few
minutes of bliss, not knowing he’d left one
gift behind, a son. After decades’ viewed
through failure, she’d finally birthed a live
baby, a perfect son, her heart’s desire.
No shame and no victim’s need to revile
not when five minutes of discomfort sired
her a son; she’d gained far more than he’d taken.
He kept watch; she kept hers, smile unshaken.
~ ~ ~
Redacted from a manuscript that hasn’t yet got a name. It’s part of the Curse Breaker Saga, just a lot further out concerning characters who come up a little later. This sequence features Darsavian and his mother, Marsaya, (and what a tough lady she is).
~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~
Inspired by Tale Weaver #41 – Masks