"Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge." - William Shakespeare
That night, exactly one miserable month after Carmilla died and Lenore almost joined her, she and Hector celebrated her official freedom the ways any happy couple might. They embraced. They cheered and laughed. They went to bed hand in hand, cuddled, made love. All the things a happy couple does. Lenore was free, and somehow alive. Lying in a shared bed next to someone he loved, Hector felt like a prolonged nightmare might be coming to an end. Tomorrow they would wake up fully and face down the remaining challenges of their changed world.
So why did something still feel wrong?
As Hector tried to sleep, a thought began to bother him. It started small. At first he tried to push it aside. However, the more he ignored it, the more troublesome it grew. He knew that Lenore had turned over a plot against Isaac's regime, thus securing a new political lease on life. But he didn't know anything about who Lenore turned over. They could have been…?
He reluctantly decided to bring it up now instead of letting it fester further. "Lenore?"
"Yes sweetie?" she responded in the darkness. As usual, Lenore was still wide awake. This was her natural morning, after all.
"The vampires who tried to recruit you – They weren't… anyone you knew, right?"
A brief pause. "What do you mean, Hector?" Lenore knew exactly what he meant but wanted to forestall the answer.
"Friends, maybe old allies in court. I don't know."
Lenore hesitated, causing a sinking feeling in Hector. "No. Three of them were lesser transgressions… As for the last one, what I did was actually worse." She finally said.
Any drowsiness promptly left Hector. Fumbling in the dark, he found a candle and lit it using a spurt of magic. Its dim, unsteady light revealed Lenore, staring straight at the ceiling. Her crimson eyes shifted towards the source. Their eyes then locked as she continued.
"The fourth was an old Styrian army captain. It was probably seventy years ago, I think. His unit was escorting my retinue and me on a diplomatic mission to somewhere in Bavaria, when the convey was ambushed by a large group of properly equipped vampire hunters, including a dhampir. They had the numbers and element of surprise, but that captain escorting us rallied his men to drive them off, killing the dhampir himself – and saving my life. It cost him his hand. And now he is in prison, probably forever."
It took a moment for Lenore's answer to sink in. Hector's words failed him as the candle's small flame flickered and the shadows danced around them. Memories of her slave ring, the lies and half-truths surrounding it, flowed back. She hadn't changed after all. Her duplicity was still there, just aimed at someone else now. "Lenore…" he finally sputtered in a hurt tone, "I thought you were past this sort of thing… Why?"
"Well, I mean," Lenore answered with uncharacteristic hesitancy, like she didn't fully believe herself, "Isaac is your friend, so it shouldn't bother you, right?"
"That isn't the point! You betrayed someone who you owed your life to, someone who thought they could trust you… This feels like what you did with that damn ring all over again!" Hector's hurt turned into anger. How could she truly not understand? Even now, after one month on leaning on him during her own captivity, Lenore had yet to take full, up-front responsibility for tricking him into putting on and activating the slave ring she used. Apparently, she hadn't even learned anything from it.
"Why do you care? Hector, you're not hurt by any of this! Besides, I was able to secure the captain's life. The other three are already dead. And please don't bring the ring into this! I'm not proud of it, but I've explained so many times already why it was the least painful option. We're beyond it anyway!"
"No, we're not beyond it, Lenore, not the underlying issue! You can't keep using other people's trust as some political currency, mine or anyone else. And frankly, saying it's okay because you got Isaac to only imprison him is a fucking lame excuse. Of all people, you say that after how hard this month has been?" He saw Lenore visibly wince. "Talk about life in an actual cage!"
"Hector, what else could I have done!? Their plan was foolish, and failure would have meant certain execution. There was no choice but to turn them in." Lenore's words were failing her. Normally her arguments could justify the unjustifiable, but for whatever reason, right now they cracked and crumbled like shoddily made defensive fortifications.
"Perhaps you could have tried to dissuade them or not responded? Or at least told me their full background instead of just the basics?" Hector pressed. "You didn't have to do this. Lenore, your original motive for staying alive was to help other vampires. Not even love was enough! Yet here you are, using them as pawns to gain Isaac's favor! What do you have to say for yourself?"
Lenore said nothing. Her eyes turned downward, and she looked away. In her head, the last line of defenses teetered on collapse. "Okay, you're right Hector," she conceded, raising a proverbial white flag. "I guess I really am a piece of shit. Who am I fooling, aside from myself? Maybe this was my nature's way of tricking me to seek power again, just like we talked about." She sat up in bed and shook her head. "I don't even fully understand what made me worth saving in your eyes."
Hector took a deep breath. The candle flickered, causing the shadows to jump. There was so much still left unaddressed, unaccounted for between them. But he had only wanted to confront Lenore, not destroy her emotionally. He looked at her again. Her eyes had the look of a downed gladiator of old, awaiting with resignation the crowd's verdict. But no, he wasn't about to place the killing blow. Not after the way their talk went after Carmilla's death, and the role it may have played in that first week from hell.
"Look Lenore," he finally said. "You're not a monster. You're not a 'piece of shit.' You're not defined by being a vampire. I just need you to think occasionally about if you're doing the right thing, not just what will get you the result you need. You may be in a position to help other vampires, but they may not trust you anymore! Now you're going to have to win it back somehow."
His vampire partner just nodded passively, otherwise not moving. Hector didn't know what to make of this. He knew it wasn't an act – She never deliberately feigned this sort of thing. Was this her being hit with genuine guilt? Shock at being berated in her hour of triumph? Whatever the case, it gradually became clear to Hector that Lenore was still reeling, struggling inwardly to pick herself back up. Perhaps it was still too soon after everything that happened. He sighed. Lenore was not always the easiest being to love.
"Okay, I'm sorry. It wasn't my goal to hurt you. Come. Let's go to sleep. We'll revisit this tomorrow." He reached over to put his arm around her shoulder, casting a long shadow against the wall.
"No. I'm sorry for being so weak," Lenore despondently responded. she felt his arm on her back and forced a fake smile. "For letting my guard down too soon and being stupid."
"Weak? I…" Hector felt confused. This definitely was not the confident vampire he was used to seeing and loving. Pushing his own troubles aside for now, he asked, "I'm serious. What is wrong? I've only seen you this low when you were in that tower."
"No, that Lenore has always been there, in some form, carefully masked. It just got so bad for a bit that I temporarily lost the ability to hide her," she replied to her human lover. There was no way around trying to explain it now, was there? Lenore hesitated for several seconds, sighed, and turned her head fully to face Hector. The light flickered again. "Hector? Do you remember when I told you about how you took so many beatings from life and still never gave up on it?"
"Yes, what about it?"
"I wasn't merely complimenting you back then. I admired you. I envied you."
"You, one of Styria's four queens, envied me, your prisoner?" In any other situation, Hector would have thought Lenore was teasing him.
Lenore answered, "Yes, I swear. For you, life was always somehow worth living. That tenacity. That stubbornness. That audacity to grab a fucking vampire queen from behind your prison bars! I didn't understand how. Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle I would wake up every dusk and have to ask 'why bother?'. Sometimes the answer was easy, other nights less so. All those luxuries I enjoyed – fine blood, wine, good views – and I still had to ask myself 'why'? I didn't even want to think about possibly losing those distractions that you never needed. Why do you think I was always so afraid of having nothing to do? Why do you think house arrest was so hard on me?"
"But, Lenore," Hector said, his heart sinking. "You always looked so sure, so happy before Isaac came."
She smiled sadly. "I'm good at hiding it," she responded. "People already thought I was weak. I couldn't let them know they were right. Not you, definitely not my sisters, absolutely not outsiders. So I wear my masks. I raise my shield. I put on my emotional armor and start the day – or night. And it works." Shaking her head, she then added, "But sometimes I'm stupid. Sometimes I lower my shield at the wrong time, or with the wrong people. And then it breaks my dead little heart into pieces. So I live a lie. I don't remember how long it's been this way or exactly why. Just as long as I can remember. I don't even think there is a word for it. But it's there, all the same."
After Lenore finished, there was nothing for a minute. No sound. No tears. No motion in the room, save the candle's flickering flame and its surreal shadows. Just Hector staring at Lenore, and her returning his gaze with a melancholy expression.
"Does this mean that this was not the –?"
"No. Just the most recent and worst. You really don't believe me. I'm weak."
"Lenore," her lover finally said. "What you just shared doesn't make you weak. I don't love or think of you any less. In fact, it's a sign of strength that you are here. If this is what you woke up to each day, every day, for the past two hundred years, and yet you endured, then I am impressed. No, I am proud."
"You're cute Hector," Lenore chuckled joylessly.
"Bloody hell, I'm serious!" Hector retorted. "For God's sake, during that first week in the tower, I feared every time I had to leave the room that I would come back to find you dead, or a heap of ash next to the window, or nothing but a note. But every time, I was wrong. You were there, enduring, persisting, persevering for your people. I wasn't the one who kept you alive in the end. All I did was just give some stupid talk one morning. From there you were ultimately the one who chose to live."
Lenore couldn't help but nod slightly. She knew Hector never thought of himself as an eloquent speaker – and neither did she, really – but somehow, he could be a persuasive one anyway when it really mattered. "Thank you, Hector," she said with an almost genuine smile. "You're the first person I've ever tried telling."
"I'll take that as a compliment," replied Hector. "Anyway, I'm grateful that you're still here and with me. This could be one of the most important parts of your life… That said, I do wish you would try and work with others, not just use them and repeat the mistakes of last time." He couldn't help but raise it.
"No, I get your point, about trust and what-not. Tomorrow I'll visit the captain and hopefully can explain why it had to be done."
Hector sighed. She didn't get the point.
"As for you, I appreciate you being there for me. This all must sound silly to you. It must be nice to feel life is inherently worth living. I wouldn't wish my feelings on my worst enemies. Well, maybe I would, but only the worst ones." Lenore hesitated for a moment. "You've surely never felt this way, have you Hector?"
Hector sighed. Everything seemed to be circling back to the start of the talk. "I have, actually. Just for a short period."
Lenore's tone turned worried. "Hector, when? Tell me when."
Hector saw that she genuinely hadn't made the connection. There was no turning back. "When you first put that ring on me," he said slowly.
His vampiric partner just stared at him with her mouth open. Her initial look of unexpected hurt quickly gave way to one of growing horror, a dawning, sickening realization. Silently mouthing the word "no," she looked at the bandaged stump where Hector's ring finger once sat, then her own, intact hand, then Hector's hand again.
"He-Hector," she stammered, "I'm sorry… It felt like the only alternative to Carmilla torturing you… I thought enough comfort would make it okay… I wasn't really thinking, really… I –" The gates of emotion burst open from behind her mind's fortress. "I'm so sorry Hector! I'm so sorry!" she cried. The two of them embraced, unsure who was comforting who. Her tears of blood intermingled with his clear human ones. Not a word more was exchanged, as none were needed. After an amount of time they could only guess, Hector turned around and blew out the candle, enveloping the room again in the safe, soothing darkness of night. They went to sleep curled up in each other's arms, bound at last by a mutual understanding of the past, the correct balance of accountability and forgiveness that enables true reconciliation. What they wouldn't give to allow their senses to savor the temporary obliviousness that sleep offers, and have it to permeate the purgatory of their waking moments as well.
This surprisingly wholesome chapter was a bit of a self-indulgent exercise, born a while ago out of one of those occasional bouts of nerd-rage. Ultimately, I used it to develop Hector a bit and hone my slightly unconventional interpretation of Lenore as struggling with some form of chronic depression concealed under her people skills.
With the opening drawn to a close, the next chapter may take a little longer as I adjust my outline and flesh out the plans.