Disclaimer: I do not own Valkyrie Profile, or any characters.
Theory of Madness
Introduction
Steadily he grew used to seeing nurses in his home. He passed them as he went about his day but they did not speak to him, and often they turned their faces away on his approach as if the sight of him offended them. But really they were preventing themselves from crying in his presence. "Poor child," they would say to one another, "to lose his mother in this way."
He ignored them and they in turn stayed out of his way. They had nothing to do with him so there was no point bothering about them. His only concern was studying for the entrance exam into Flenceberg's magic academy. I was very ambitious to hope for acceptance at his age, but he knew he had the talent to pull it off. His tutor worked with him as many hours as his father was willing to pay for, and after that the boy would study on his own into the night.
Things were moving at a different pace since his mother fell ill. His parents used to go out at least every week to parties, or hosed one in their home. Now his mother rested in bed most of the day and his father did business in his home office. It was strange having them both home all the time; the boy was used to being on his own.
He awoke early that day, eager to begin his studies. The halls were quiet with only the faint streams of sunlight as his company. He entered the dining hall and knew at once that something was amiss: there were no servants making the morning meal. Puzzled, he went about the house looking for them and at last found them hovering near the door to his parents' bedroom.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. They turned, giving him a view inside. He could see the nurses packing up their tools, their heads bowed and shoulders slumped. He knew what was happening, and moved to enter the room
"Young master, you shouldn't be here!" A servant stood in his way, desperately trying to keep him out.
"And why not?" he snapped. "It's not like it'll make a difference! I hardly know her; what do I care if she dies?"
"Young master, you mustn't say such things about your mother!" Lezard ignored the servant, pushing on into his parents' bedroom. His father was there, an older bearded version of the son. And there on the bed, already in her funeral garb, was Lezard's mother. All the blood had gone from her face, her hair plastered on her forehead. Her eyes were vacant, staring but not seeing.
"Lezard, what are you doing here?" his father demanded. "This is not for children's eyes."
"I'm not a child, Father," said Lezard. "If she's going to die, I should at least be allowed to speak to her one last time." His father opened his mouth to protest, but gave in and stepped aside. Lezard moved forward, leaning close so he could whisper in his mother's ear. "Some mother you are. You pushed me off to a nurse, and then to a tutor. I was nothing to you… and you are nothing to me."
"Lezard..." She moaned his name softly, her eyes wildly searching for her son.
"It's too late," he hissed menacingly. Anger was bubbling up inside him and he didn't care if she was hurt by what he said. She deserved it, in his eyes, for never being a real mother to him. "You pushed me off at my birth, and now I'm pushing you off at your death. I hate you, and I hope you go to Hel." The words had barely left his lips. His mother's eyes went wide and she gasped, as if struggling for breath. Her body shuddered, and was still.
"Ranlia!" His father rushed forward, gently shaking his wife. "Ranlia!"
"Lord Valeth, please." A nurse pushed him aside, holding a feather over the lady's lips. The feather did not stir. "She's dead."
"Dead…" His father crumbled at the news, covering his face with his hands. Lezard stood silently by his mother's side, his rage toward her living only a few moments longer than she before it too died away.
He went through the motions of donning mourning clothing and standing by his father's side during the funeral. He did not shed a single tear; everyone assumed he was in shock. Perhaps he was, but for a different reason than they thought. He thought about the last words he spoke to his mother, and the incredible rage he directed to her.
Lezard studied harder than ever after his mother passed away. His father and the servants said it was to separate himself from the pain of her loss, but that was not the truth. He was determined now to get into Flenceberg. He had to know if he killed his mother.