Just a weird little thing that stuck in my head. Thought it might be a one-shot but it's likely to have chapters now, so. Enjoy!
SPOILERS FOR ALL OF SERIES FOUR
Disclaimer: Not mine.
'If you're reading this, you have failed in your duty and I, your mother, have paid the ultimate price for having such a worthless, pathetic excuse for a son.'
Malik frowned, turning the envelope in his hand to check that it really was his name on the front. He'd found the letter among the few possessions left at their old, draughty home, with the instruction that it was to be opened only in the event of Elizabeta's demise. He hadn't been expecting this.
'And if you've failed me so, Malik, if you've really been so stupid and useless as to allow your mother to be slain while you ran like a coward - because, if you're reading this, you clearly managed to save your own hide - then I think it's time for a few home truths. Better sit down, dear.'
He perched himself on the edge of an antique chair and braced himself for vicious words; this side of his mother had rarely been turned against him but it seemed that she'd harboured a lot of venom towards him... It wasn't unusual, in vampire families, but he'd thought they were different. He was just glad he'd ditched Erin - purpose served, she could make her own way in the world now - before she could see him brought low like this.
'You might like to know that you're not a Dracula after all. Honestly, boy, do you really think if you were I'd have left it so long to have you claim your birthright? I killed the Dracula heir to hide the fact that you weren't his child, and then I played the younger brother for the fool he was. You are the offspring of a visiting half-fang, who didn't survive beyond your first half-century. With the emergence of the Chosen One, I saw a chance to take power.
You, dear Malik, would have gone the way of your real father the instant I took it.
I leave this letter safe in the knowledge that you'll never read it if I ask you not to. You always were a mummy's boy.
Elizabeta.'
Malik crumpled the letter in his fist; all those centuries, he'd let her play her little mind games, he'd given her all the respect due to a mother from her son, and this vicious stake in the guts from beyond the grave was his reward? He sat for a while, the words of the letter playing in his mind, over and over until just a few stood out.
You might like to know that you're not a Dracula after all.
You're not a Dracula after all.
You're not a Dracula...
He leapt to his feet and took off into the night, speeding through clouds outlined in the silver light of the moon.
Landing at Garside, he threw himself into the shadows and waited. The courtyard was a hive of activity, the Draculas clearly preparing to move on. Ingrid disappeared back inside to pick up one last thing and he followed her into the school.
"Ingrid." She turned, half a snarl appearing on her face as she looked at him.
"What are you doing he-?"
"I'm not a Dracula, I'm not your brother." He held out the letter, and she scanned it with a raised eyebrow.
"Seems like our mothers have a lot in common. I hope you don't think this changes things between us."
Malik reached to take both her hands in his, surprised when she didn't resist.
"Ingrid, please. Can you blame me for being confused by my feelings? She told me you were my sister."
"I can blame you for everything else you did."
"You would have done the same for your father. You know how important parents are." She frowned, then pressed a piece of paper into his palm.
"This is where we're moving to. You're not invited."
She snatched up an urn and stormed out. Malik watched her go with a grin.
There was hope, after all.