#inspired by the newest chapter 31 of VoV

[vischys]

Subliminal Closure

“She is a decent individual.”

His own words echoed within his subconscious, accompanied by fragments of memory belonging to his humanity, memory of the brief moments he had spent together as V with the she-demon fashioned after his beloved mother's visage and beauty. The fragments passed through his memory lane as a series of projected images, one after another, each with various angle and focus, the she demon's face unconscious form, her apathetic borderline cold expression as she turned toward him with a flash of garms and sway of blonde hair that was most uncharacteristic of the woman she was molded upon.

"I'm not your mummy, V."

"You're a big boy."

"Is that why you went to find Dante?"

"You need to see this through."

Her apathetic visage turned into the disappointed expression that his beloved mother wore upon that fateful day where he and his brother were engaged in a rather violent scuffle that sealed their respective fates, the blood crimson of her shawl as she turned away from him in favor of going after Dante instead—

"Snap out of it!"

Vergil was jolted awake from what he realized to be a dream, a vivid and recollective one, but a dream still all the same. He bent down to pick up the book that must have fallen to the floor due to his abrupt awakening seconds ago, smoothing its cover and taking a garner upon the title Maps, flipping the page where he left it before accidentally falling asleep out of emotional exhaustion.

Every morning I left her behind, holding me with a fierceness I did not recognize as desperation, because both of us were blind.

Blind.

For so long, he foolishly assumed the worst of his mother's absence in the death-defying act that established his formative purpose and belief, believing his mother was blind to his bitterness, the unseemly drive that motivated him to run away from her and his brother that day. That she was blinded by her favor toward the little brother whom she often defended due to said brother being born merely minutes after him.

But it was his third brush with death and survival by a likely inadvertent act of salvation from his mother's lookalike that dawned the realization upon him.

"Snap out of it!" The she-demon's rather panicky tone echoed in his head but it was that brief flash of genuine concern upon her apprehensive expression that elicited a most vivid image in his mind, for it was the very same expression that his mother used to adopt when his child self got hurt from either a venturesome adventure with his brother or a physical scuffle with said brother. The same expression she would display before kneeling to his level to hold his tiny, bleeding hand while sporting the gentlest and loveliest of a reprimand-induced smile.

A sensation of something wet trickling down his cheeks pulled him out of his musing, and it wasn't till the wetness fell upon the page he was reading, creating a round damp spot upon the white paper, that he realized he was shedding the tears he hadn't shed ever since he lost his mother and brother to the infernal fire.

“In the end... I am the true tomfool of this family, am I not, Mama?” He mused with a tremble in his tone upon that affectionate form of addressal, one that he had never used in his recollection of her, until now.

He couldn't but chuckle at the irony of the situation, at the fact that his life has been but just that: a walking irony.

For it took an inadvertent display of unwitting aid, of salvation, from a diabolic imitation whose only resemblance to his mother was her visage, a being he barely recognized at first as anything but a mere tool of reinforcement in his demon side's crusade for the demonic fruit of power, to bestow upon him the revelation that his mother has never been anything but sincere and devoted in her affection toward him and his twin brother.

That she wanted to save him as she did his brother.

"The thing is, she tried to save you too. She kept searching and searching. Until it killed her."

He could allow himself to finally trust his brother's claim back then, that Dante did not attempt to flaunt his status as their mother's golden child by attempting to comfort Vergil with a fabricated story of their mother's non-existent sentiment out of pity, but instead, actually conveying the truth that their mother did...

You came for me after all, Mama. Forgive me for my powerlessness then, in both faith and prowess. For doubting her affection all these years and figuring the truth just now. For not being able to return on time thus letting her die.

One act of aid by a demoness fashioned by the very Demon King who brought about every pain and loss he had suffered for a lifetime. An act of aid that likely was not done in his interest, but in that of his brother, an irony abounds that brought about the most subliminal yet long-awaited closure to a lifetime of doubt and wonder as to his place in his beloved mother's eyes.

His guilt for failing his mother and most of all, for indirectly promoting the cause of her demise, shall abide as he lives. Yet this revelation that his mother actually attempted to protect him, that she did not abandon him, that she loved him, allows him to finally reach his closure and make peace with himself, his memory of her and lifetime of misunderstanding that ultimately misguided his steps.

And for that, he was profoundly grateful to the She-Demon despite the disquieting significance of her existence.