This chapter takes place a couple of months after Vicky has joined the council. Hope you enjoy!
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Vicky has put off this visit for weeks. It has been almost two months since she moved to the Citadel and officially joined the Council. She learned that as Rebecca's only surviving kin, she has inherited her mother's assets, which include a cottage on the outskirts of the city and a sizable amount of coin. Her reluctance to "claim" her inheritance partly stems from a feeling that she would be taking advantage of her mother, despite rationally knowing that is not the case. It isn't as though Vicky needs the money to pay for a mortgage or a car. She is getting paid for her job. As for living expenses, she is staying with Malbonte in his castle. After weeks of procrastination, however, Vicky has finally decided to visit the cottage and see to things.
The cottage is a well built, two-story stone structure with elegantly tiled roofs and slatted windows. There is a small garden in the front with flowering bushes, though it now has an overgrown appearance. It looks nothing like their home on earth and that gives Vicky a small pang. Her mother had truly wanted to move on and forget about her earthly life. Vicky walks down the cobbled path leading to the door, and stands hesitating in front of it.
Come on, Vicky! Just do it! Vicky psychs herself before placing the key into the lock and turning it. She pushes the door and it slowly groans open. Taking a deep breath, Vicky steps inside. The interior is dark apart from a few sunbeams that have slipped through gaps of the window slats. Vicky walks up to the windows and raises the blinds, letting the daylight in. She looks around the living room, taking in its elegant decor and cozy furnishings. The kitchen seems like it hasn't been used much. Vicky doesn't blame her mom, it was never fun cooking for herself when she was in college. Recently, she has attempted some recipes after moving in with Malbonte, but the herbs and spices available in heaven are quite different from the dry spice blends she used on earth, and she soon gave up on her culinary ambitions.
Vicky opens the door to her mother's bedroom and enters, the feeling that she is intruding intensifying. It is just as cozy as the rest of the house. A nightstand near the bed has a drawer partially ajar. As Vicky goes to shut it, her eyes land on the contents. They seem to be bundles of papers. Unable to contain her curiosity, Vicky pulls out the drawer further and scans the contents. They are letters organized in neat stacks. Most are official memos and correspondences, but there are some personal letters mixed in. As Vicky roots through them, her eye is caught by Winchesto's name in the sign off of one. Feeling a little guilty, though not enough to stop, Vicky starts reading the letter from Winchesto.
"Dear Rebecca,
I met your daughter at the Academy today. Satan "happened" to send me on an errand at the same time as a disciplinary hearing for his son, Lucifer. I did not know until I arrived there that the other student in question was your daughter. You probably know by now that your daughter was exonerated, but I wanted to reassure you that your daughter did not violate the law of segregation. She is neither weak nor foolhardy. She rather impressed me with her courage and self-possession in face of the councilors' intimidation tactics. She very much reminded me of you when you were a student at the Academy. I know this has long been a topic of contention between us, but I don't trust Fencio. He doesn't have your daughter's best interests at heart. …'
Two hot teardrops plop onto the parchment and smudge the ink where they fall. Vicky hastily wipes her eyes and blotts the area carefully with her sleeve. Winchesto's praise of herself warms her heart. Even though she had known the demon for only a short time, it feels as though they had connected on a deep level. How could her mom have let such a man slip away? She could have chosen to become a demon and been with him. Vicky sighs. It is all over and done with a long time ago. What is the point in questioning her choices now? The rest of the letter is on other topics and Vicky moves on to another stack.
She finds a letter from one of the wardens at the Academy. Surprisingly, the correspondent had written to Rebecca about Vicky's participation in the flying tournament and how she was the first Unclaimed to have done so, blah, blah... A quick scan of the other letters in the stack show that they were all from the same warden, all relaying information on Vicky's various exploits, both good and bad. Bizarrely, in one letter, the angel had warned Rebecca about rumors circulating regarding Vicky's connection with the "Malbonte movement".
Vicky snorts on reading that. At that time, Vicky had had no real idea what the "Malbonte movement" entailed or how deeply connected to it she would end up becoming. But her heart is troubled overall. Her mother had kept track of her academic progress, with its ups and downs, though it is hard to gauge her intentions now. Had she been proud of her? Or had she been worried that her behavior might have negative consequences for her position at the Citadel and had therefore kept a watchful eye on her? Why hadn't her mom directly reached out to her from the start? Vicky cannot help being angry that her mother had essentially been spying on her. Then she feels guilty at being angry when she remembers how her mom had saved her at the cost of her own life. Vicky's lips twist into a grimace—how messed up it is that she cannot help questioning her own mother's motives even now!
Vicky thinks back to the deeply unsettling—no, horrifying moment when she had realized that her mother was capable of being a coldblooded murderer. Yore didn't seem like a very exemplary character, but he was a family man with a little boy, and more importantly, had done nothing wrong besides standing in the way of her mother's ambitions. As a mortal, if at all Vicky had thought angels existed, her conceptions had vaguely tended towards picturing them as pure-hearted beings who spent their time singing hymns and strumming on their lyres or as cute chubby babies with tiny wings like in Renaissance paintings. But the reality is starkly different. There is nothing noble or holy that sets apart angels from demons or mortals. Just like on earth, those who had power held on to it by any means necessary. "The Powers That Be" had no checks or balances; chief councilors acted as judge, jury, and executioner without anyone to question them. Rebecca had been ruthless because she had chosen to be a part of that milieu. Had her mom truly been satisfied with the state of affairs just because she had reached the zenith of power in the immortal world? It seemed so.
Vicky's disillusionment about the immortal world along with her disappointment with her mother's cold blooded ambition had been roiling beneath her skin for a while. But what had finally pushed her over the edge had been Eragon's unfettered arrogance and his execution of her mom. That event had triggered the tsunami that pushed Vicky to join Malbonte. Vicky isn't sure what her decision would have been if the series of events starting with her mother's attempted murder of Yore hadn't stacked up like misaligned lego blocks in a few short days, but she has no regrets about her decision. The overhaul Malbonte and she had instituted laid bare the tottering feet of clay holding up the citadel power structure. One chip with a hammer at the weakest point had sent the whole edifice crashing down on itself.
That doesn't mean Vicky does not grieve over the countless deaths she witnessed during the battle. She still has nightmares of the bloodshed and carnage, of her fighting and yes—even killing opponents. In some scenarios, she is eternally trying to reach Geralt before the Subantras get to him, but fails every single time. Vicky feels guilty whenever she wakes Malbonte up with her thrashing around in bed, but he makes no complaints and simply draws her tightly into his arms and comforts her. Malbonte has outright rejected any of her suggestions that they sleep separately. After all…he is no stranger to mental torments. Only, he seldom speaks of them; Vicky can only deduce it from the way his tattoo glows and perspiration bedews his brows.
Sometimes Vicky wonders if her mother would have fought her if she had been alive during the battle. Rebecca would have been very disappointed and enraged that her daughter had chosen the "enemy", to be sure, but would she have actively harmed her? After all, when it came down to the wire, her mom had jumped in to take the sword meant for her, despite all their clashes. But then, they had been on the same side at the time. Or at least, they had not been on opposing sides… Vicky sits staring at the various letters now scattered on the bed cover, her thoughts eddying over and over the same topics with no clear answers.
***—***
That is how Malbonte finds her an hour later. She looks up at him with troubled eyes. Malbonte pauses at the threshold of the bedroom, taking in the scene and Vicky's distressed expression. He moves to stand in front of her and places a hesitant hand on her shoulder. "Did you find something in the letters that upset you?" he asks gently.
Vicky's lips turn down and a single tear drips down her cheek. "Yes…well…not just the letters."
Malbonte's heart twinges seeing Vicky's distress. He picks her up in one fluid move and sits down on the bed with her on his lap. She rests her head against his chest and wraps her arms around his waist. The delicate floral perfume of her shampoo tickles his nose as he buries his face in her hair. He rubs her shoulders and waits patiently for her to talk if she wants to.
"The last time I spoke to my mom, I told her she was a monster," Vicky blurts out. "I screamed at her to get lost."
Malbonte looks at Vicky in surprise. The whole story about her mother's attempted poisoning of Yore and how Vicky had stopped her comes tumbling out. Malbonte knew that Rebecca had been power-hungry, but even he did not expect the ruthlessness with which she had plotted the murder of her own protégé.
"And because I stopped her from killing Yore," Vicky continues, "Eragon found out about our blood-connection to you and decided to kill me on the spot. But she took the blow meant for me. I should have been the one to die."
"Vicky, you didn't know it would end this way." Malbonte squeezes her shoulders. "These kinds of what-ifs can destroy your peace, take it from me."
"That's not the worst thing." Vicky looks at him with guilt brimming over her eyes. "I can't help imagining that if my mom had had a moment to think rationally, she would not have sacrificed herself for me." The tears now spill out hard and fast. "And I hate myself for it."
Malbonte presses Vicky to his chest and quietly strokes her hair as she sobs. Platitudes never helped anyone, and he isn't the kind to dole them out for empty comfort. There are similar questions about events in his own past he has wrestled with. Eventually he confesses, "I don't know if my parents remembered me after they were banished to earth."
Vicky looks up at him, her eyes widening. Malbonte doesn't know what is compelling him to share this with Vicky, but he goes on, "Shephamalum occasionally parted the endless veil of darkness and allowed me glimpses of their lives. Just for a few moments at a time until their death." Vicky's eyes immediately fill with horror and compassion. Malbonte turns away, uncomfortable with the shocked sympathy in her gaze. He feels exposed and finds it hard to continue. Vicky stays quiet, not urging him to speak. After several moments, Malbonte pushes himself to go on. "Shephamalum's intentions were to torture me by showing me their lives. I saw them have more children—my mortal brothers and sisters; I saw them grow old and die. I never knew if they had their immortal memories and remembered their first-born son, or worse, if they did remember, but regretted protecting me at the cost of their own immortality."
"Oh, Malbonte!" Vicky hugs him tightly.
Malbonte stays silent for several minutes, battling the pain of those old sensations. Then he continues, "I eventually realized that all I had to go by were their actions. And all they ever did was love me and protect me to the best of their abilities." He raises his head to meet Vicky's eyes. "And that's when I stopped tormenting myself with second-guesses. Your mother loved you, Vicky. Everything else is irrelevant."
"Thank you," says Vicky with honest gratitude, even as tears spill onto her cheeks. Malbonte wipes them away and kisses her forehead. Vicky gives a tremulous smile and adds, "And thank you for sharing that with me."
Malbonte's eyes soften. The memories of his parents have long been a source of torment to him and thus far, they only served to fuel his hatred of the creators and the rest of the immortal world. If those memories bring some comfort to Vicky, perhaps they have served a better purpose for the first time. He does feel a little vulnerable for having shared something so intimate, but he knows that Vicky won't take advantage. She hasn't so far, and he has already shared quite a bit of his past with her in the short time they have known each other.
Perhaps he intrinsically trusts Vicky because of his interactions with her as Bont, or because they are connected through his powers. Whatever the reason, Malbonte knows that Vicky's heart is warm and loyal. And no matter her disagreements with Rebecca, the loss of a mother is not something one got over easily, especially as Vicky has now lost her twice. If he can provide her with some degree of comfort when she is grieving, it is the least he can do. He kisses her chastely on her lips and pulls her close. They sit entwined in the little cocoon of warmth they have created, their heads nestled against each other's shoulders until dusk falls and lengthens the shadows in the room, signaling that it is time to go home.
When they get home, Vicky reaches for Malbonte, craving more of his warmth and he gives it to her. Their lovemaking is gentler this time; Malbonte lights a steady flame in her soul that slowly blazes out to cover her entire being and chases the shadows away from the hidden corners of her mind, at least for a while. Vicky clings to him with desire and gratitude, thankful that she isn't alone in her grief and hoping that she can bring him the same comfort he has given her.
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Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
