Closed starter for @daemoniumsmajesty
~*~
These things were a necessary evil.
That’s what he kept telling himself, as he went through the evening as though in a haze. That this kind of function was necessary, even in its frivolity. That he needed to be seen, as a King, and not merely as the child of the deposed one. As the true monarch, not the former slave of the previous.. So, his handlers had him washed, dressed up, sent out into the fray and Vergil’s hand itched to have a sword in it.
Some of these people, royals or elites, they all struck him as more poisonous and vicious than snakes in a pit.
It was sweltering, for starters, and Vergil felt like a snow-drop in summer. Still, he kept a neutral, calm face, trying to dress within the fashions of the area, all while minding his manners and remaining aloof, cool, and quietly confident.
.. The first chance the newly crowned King of All Hell found to slip away from his advisers, he took it, and retreated into the gardens of the palace, to find a place to sit, alone, peel off the ridiculously flat, laced-up sandals and work out how sore his feet were.
Glancing up at the stars, even as he massaged, Vergil grumbled.
Father, surely, never had to put up with this..
Or, perhaps he did, and he just enjoyed it more..
He sighed, switched to the other foot, swearing under his breath, and counted to ten.
Only a few more hours. Only a few more hours..
