[♛] no one is ever born a m o n s t e r; [self]
And because of this, she was rather lonely.
All she had were her brothers, her extended family and her father, of course. The beautiful Anastasia Olsen had died, approximately moments after Mara being born. A childbirth gone horribly wrong, too much blood being lost and thus, Mara had killed the moment she had entered the world, with her first breath, with her mother's last. She was a murderer from birth. At least that was what her father had said to her. Mara was raised entirely on her own, although Mikael, the eldest, did care for her as he was one of the only ones to have patience. Viktor was more so concerned with himself and Gabriel was a daydreamer, a boy himself, and at times, it felt as though Mara was pushed to the side as the only girl. She was ignored by her father, who couldn't look at her without scorn, without disgust, and was harder on her in every sense of the word.
"Mara, hurry along. Don't linger."
Her father had grabbed her hand, roughly, and dragged her with him. It had the first time her father had wanted alone time with her, after his errands and Mara was all too tragically excited to have real time with him. She was only a young girl, at the mere age of ten, and had been training with Mikael, since her father hadn't had patience with her. She was too tiny, too weak, too small, too everything that their father found utterly disgusting to work with her, and that was why it came as a shock that their father requested spending the day with Mara.
She was so excited, wondering if they would ride horses together on the Olsen estate, or having lunch together, tea time, anything at all that would brighten her day, bring her just a little bit closer to her father that seemed so much of the time that he wanted nothing at all to do with her. Mara didn't mind, though---she just wanted a father for once in her life. They headed back to the grassy fields as the sun was setting over the summer afternoon and Mara kept silent, like she always did around her father, because she wasn't supposed to speak unless spoken to. Instead of going back to the mansion, he brought her by the woods area in the back, entirely their own, a place where they could transform and use their wolf legs every full moon. Mara had learned to shifted regularly, something she loved, but as the moon grew darker, she felt a bit scared, a feeling of uncertainly, of curiosity surrounding her.
"Mara, it is time you learn the truths of your existence..." Her father said to her, letting go of her hand. Mara looked up at the tall man, her alpha, her father, and swallowed hard.
"...Pa-Papa, what do you mean?"
They traveled even deeper into the woods, until finally, they had reached a location. Mara stopped next to her father, and saw two figures in the dark, come out and whisper things to him. She waited, an unsettling, sick feeling in her stomach, the little girl confused as she waited for further instruction, All she had wanted to do was spend the day with her papa, have tea and laugh with her, like regular little girls and their fathers do.
Of course she was wrong. Other little girls had papas who tucked them in at night, told them bedtime stories, kissed their foreheads, told their little daughters that they were their little princesses and loved them.
And yet, horribly and sadly enough, Mara's father had never even uttered the words "I love you" to her.
It was pathetically true, as Mara said it often and almost obsessively to him. "Papa, I love you", "Papa, good night, I love you!", "Papa, you're the best. I love you..." which was only met by silence, or a grunt. The only person he had ever smiled for, or held or told such things to was Gabriel, golden Golden, the one who could do no wrong.
Even more confused, Mara saw the two men, who obviously worked for her father, come back and throw down a little girl and an older man at her father's feet. They looked so afraid, holding each other, the little girl a tiny bit older than Mara perhaps, huddled in her father's arms. Mara had recognized the man, as a friend of her father's, or used to be a friend. She looked to her father, confused, as he stood, bold as bronze, his chin raised over the cowering, horrified father/daughter on the ground.
"Pl-Please, Diederik, d-don't...D-Don't do this, it was a mistake!" The father seemed to beg, tears in his eyes and it was the first time Mara had seen a grown man cry, as he held his crying daughter with him.
Mara looked to her father as he stepped up to him and kneeled down. "You will pay for your treason. For your transgressions. For not following my direct orders, the orders of your king and Alpha. You will pay with your life and your daughter's life."
The man bowed his head, as Mara watched the little girl, cower and cry into her father's chest, whispering in her native tongue how scared she was, and the father whispered back it would be okay, he would protect her, that he loved her. Mara, trembling now as night settled in, watched as her father turned to her and his green eyes were as fierce, as bright, and as bold as she had ever seen them.
"You will kill them. Efficiently. Just as you killed your mother."
The sentence made the little girl cry out, only to be threatened by one of Mara's father's guards to be silent. Mara felt her stomach sink, the most horrible, deafening feeling coming over her. She was ten, so little and so afraid, wanting so much for her father to love her, and he held no love nor compassion in his eyes. Mara, swallowing hard, had tears burning in the back of her eyes, something her father hated to see.
The man looked at his daughter, with the most disgusted look he could give her and smacked her, hard, as if she had said something so horrifying, so terrible that it deserved such cruelty. Mara had stumbled back, stifled her cry as he then grabbed her tightly by the arm.
"You killed her the moment you took your first breath, you little slut. So, now, you will kill again. For me. Do you understand? You will kill, for me. To apologize for what you've done, by taking away my beautiful wife. And maybe, just maybe, I will forgive you. If you do a good job."
Mara felt tears stream down her face, as he pushed her toward the whimpering daughter and father. She looked back to her father, waiting and scowling at her. The man was begging Mara not to, not to take his little girl away, and Mara felt again hot tears burn her cool little porcelain doll cheeks. She looked upon the man first, and heard the words swimming in her head like a song. Kill for me...I will forgive you.
And that was all she had ever wanted.
She remembered what Mikael had said, using her training, and suddenly, her claws were out to play as she neared the man first. Tears streamed down her face, her baby face, as the little girl screamed and cried for mercy for her father and Mara wanted so badly, God, she wanted so badly to go back up to her room, play with her dolls, be a ten year old little girl, but no---no, life was not kind to her. She wasn't a little girl, but a murderer indefinitely and she was born to murder.
One quick slash to the throat was enough to slash his throat, and a few more just for good measure, blood spraying all over the place, all over Mara as if she were painting with bright red paint. The little girl screamed, sobbing horribly, holding onto her father still as Mara's eyesight was blurry, her tears washing over her like a waterfall. She had turned back to her father, and had seen a smile on his face for the first time. Her lip trembling, she turned back to the little girl, who was crying out horribly not to kill her, to spare her, begging for her life. Mara looked at this little girl, and saw herself. Clinging onto her father, clinging onto love, and suddenly grew angry. This little girl had a father who loved her---he was dead now, but at least he loved her.
Even quicker this time, Mara's claws scraped against the girl's throat, slashing it, and as her claws came down a second time, Mara growling, she began to slash more and more and more, until her entire body was warm and covered with blood. She hadn't noticed at all that her father was cheering for her in the background, like a parent on a soccer field cheering for their child. It was the first time, ever, that her father had ever cheered her on, been kind to her.
Mara, with tears still evident on her face, cleared them away, blood all over her as her father came next to her, admiring the dead bodies that were now slashed to pieces by the ten year old little royal that would never, ever be quite the same. He kneeled down to her and took her hands, clearing away the blood on her, lovingly, lovingly. He had never done so, never once.
"Such a beautiful job, my Mara, such a beautiful job. Good girl, good girl. You have made your papa proud...Whether or not I forgive you is still in the air, you could have been better, but that was good. Good girl." He told her, and Mara was even angry at herself for not being harsher. For still not making him all he way proud.
"Go back to the house, get cleaned up. We shall celebrate, my Mara." He told her, and Mara nodded, numbly, as her father's guards took away the torn, slashed bodies of the first real victims of her wrath.
The silent walk back to her mansion, going up to her room, was a walk without thought, without emotion. She had looked at herself in the mirror, the blood still spilled upon her of the man and his daughter, who clung onto each other with their last breaths. Mara looked inward to the mirror and saw none other than the little girl she murdered, slashed to bits. Her face was there, clear as day, and Mara couldn't help but scream, pounding her fist against the mirror until it shattered, much like her.
From that day onward, Mara had never told a living soul about how she had killed first, who she had killed, for her first time at the age of ten. In some ways more than one, she was still that little girl in the woods, crying, as she killed, wanting only her father's love and approval that she only got when she had killed for him.
[He had only loved her when she was a monster and so a monster she became. ]
