Summary: The Sparda twins can say they have only one very old friend in common – mourning. And now, you are meeting them.
Author’s notes: This week, my grandma passed away. She is one of the most important people in my life and, as much as I know I have to let go, I can’t help myself but feel the emptiness of not having her around. As we say it over here, it’s “saudades”; I miss her. And I’m still learning to navigate that.
My deepest condolences to all who are going through the same thing. I’m writing to process my own feelings, and maybe this can be a little bit of processing to you as well.
Dante
You rarely walked so far away from him as you did in that day.
Dante knew about your loss and he was the one to hold you together when it hit. He also knew it wasn’t just a one day thing and then shrug it off: after the initial shock, grief would remain and keep rippling until your heart got used to it.
He had never seen you so quiet, though. Around him, you always blossomed like you didn’t around anyone else, but throughout the past week you were quiet, looking a little off. Trying your best to remain as if everything was normal, but he could see it in your eyes… The same look he had for so long in his.
That was mourning. Dante could identify it a mile away.
He insisted in doing things with you, so at least you would have some company when things got a little too much to bear – even the smallest of things. Dante would be there to carry groceries, help you pay for something, order whatever you wanted in case you forgot, hold your hand in the street so you wouldn’t get hurt for not paying attention to your steps.
He had it happen to himself when he was a kid with no one to help him properly through it – now, at least, he could do something about it; he could help you.
Still, you decided to walk a few steps ahead of him when returning to the shop during one of the errands he decided to keep you company through. Dante observed you calmly with his sky-blue eyes, hands in his pockets, assessing how introspective and pensive you were; walking around observing the smallest of things, as if everything was new and different, only to silently watch your own boots slowly walking on the pavement as if you never walked that path before. And he could almost hear the gears inside your head turning, as you kept thinking, and thinking, and thinking, and thinking…
Dante had to let out a silent sigh. You and Vergil were quite the pair in his life.
“Hmmm, big guy…” He immediately snapped out of his thoughts, though, when you turned around – still with that melancholy hidden in the back of your eyes – and nodded towards the heavy Devil May Cry wooden doors. “I forgot my keys.”
“Don’t sweat it, babe. I got you covered.” And even if you spoke normally, with the same loving and carefree inflection you always did, Dante couldn’t really answer the same way. His voice was softer, with a warm smile on his lips as he got the keys from his pockets to show them to you.
The way you peacefully smiled in return made his heart glow. Dante knew how a genuine smile could be so hard at a moment like that – and he would always appreciate he could at least bring that comfort to you.
Going up the few steps in front of the shop, Dante diligently used the keys to unlock the doors, already holding one side open so you could go in and he could follow.
When he looked back at you, though, Dante found you sitting on one of the steps by the door; head leaning on one of your hands, elbows resting on your knees… Eyes completely lost in the distance, along with the setting sun that tinged everything in orange golden rays, ever so slowly hiding behind the buildings to give room for the quiet, dark night.
Dante furrowed his brows a bit. He lost count how many times he did the very same thing; sitting at the front steps of the shop, watching the sun setting, thinking of all the people he lost in his life – mourning Eva, Sparda, Vergil, Nell… The list was so big, he couldn’t even keep up with it. Every day would be a different person; and every day, he would be sitting at those steps. Doing exactly the same thing you were doing.
The only difference, was that now he could be there for you and you didn’t have to sit there alone. You didn’t have to mourn all by yourself.
Quietly, Dante approached and sat right next to you; his shoulder touching yours, and his thigh brushing against your thigh. You couldn’t help but lower your head for a while, with a faint smile on your lips: given his heritage, Dante was naturally warmer than a human – you used to say he burned hotter than a furnace – and for some reason, that always felt like comfort. Like home.
He could make you feel safe just by being there, close to you, like at that moment. Dante didn’t need much to disarm your natural defenses and help you be just… You.
“Feels different.” You murmured, raising your head again; eyes back to the setting sun in the distance. Almost as if you couldn’t look at him while speaking. “Everything, I mean. It feels different. Strange.”
“I know what you mean.” Dante turned his sky-blue eyes to the horizon like you. Even though he was attuned with his heart and humanity, that wasn’t an easy conversation – and he understood why you didn’t want to look at him while speaking. He was guilty of doing the same. “Life goes on, but you don’t. You stopped inside.”
“Hmmm.” You slowly nodded in agreement, with a slight sigh at the end of your hum. “But life didn’t. Life doesn’t. And you have to keep doing what you always did, and keep living, as if nothing is different. But…”
“Everythin’ is different now.” It was Dante’s turn to nod, remembering how strange it was to navigate all that as a child. And then as a teen. And then as an adult. Over, and over, and over, and over again. Everything changing faster than he was ready to and could change. “Every mornin’, every afternoon, every night. Every cup of coffee. Every shower, every meal…”
“Something is missing. And will never come back.” You let out a heavy sigh now, making Dante look at you at the corner of his eyes. Those sighs usually denoted you were about to cry – though your tears didn’t start falling. Your empty eyes just kept staring at the street. “And now, you think…”
“What the fuck am I doing with my life?”
As you said in unison, both of you couldn’t refrain from looking at each other with a faint smile on your lips – of knowing, of belonging. At least for once in your lifetimes, you were quietly sitting down and talking to someone who understood.
“I don’t know… It almost feels pointless. Everything, I mean.” You vaguely waved with your hand, knowing Dante would get what you meant. “And I know it’s for a while. That all this grief is temporary; and it will eventually disappear only for bittersweet memories to remain. But still. Doesn’t make it easier.”
“Hmmm… Someone told me once grief is just love with nowhere to go.” Dante now rested his weight by leaning his elbows on his knees, almost mirroring you. “No regret, no shame, nothin’ of that. It’s another form of love; one we’ll all feel, sooner or later.”
“Huh…” You took his words into consideration, turning your gaze now to the last tinges of rosy orange in the sky, as the purple hues of the night started to take over. “It doesn’t sound that bad then, putting it that way. I guess I must be lucky…” You heavily sighed once more, now leaning your head on his warm shoulder. “That I loved and was loved so much, for my heart to be feeling the last form of love.”
“Huh. Guess I’ve got somethin’ to think ‘bout too now…” Dante looked down at your head on his shoulder, slightly adjusting his posture so you would be more comfortable. “How lucky we both are to have people to mourn.”
“Some people go their entire lives without experiencing something like that.” you whispered back; and now Dante could hear it in your voice: the tears already forming, wanting to come out.
“Hmmm. And some people waste their whole lives not knowin’ how to deal with it… Verge’s livin’ proof of that.” As Dante murmured in return, you couldn’t help but giggle, even if against your will, slightly slapping his thigh in return as a halfhearted scolding. “What I wanna say is, don’t hold it in, babe; it’s ok to cry. I’m here with you and I’m not goin’ anywhere. We got the whole night.”
You furrowed your brows, now staring at some lost spot in the pavement right in front of you. Of course Dante heard it in your voice how much you wanted to cry but you were trying to hold it in – you didn’t even know why: you knew you didn’t have to prove anything to your red devil, and you were more than comfortable being vulnerable around him… But never in a situation like that.
Perhaps it would be from hearing people telling you since childhood you shouldn’t cry too much when mourning, so the deceased’s soul wouldn’t be trapped or in agony from watching you miss them. Perhaps it would be the amount of people saying you shouldn’t cry and get over it, so mourning wouldn’t take over your life. That you should take only a week and move on, or else you would risk falling into depression. That you shouldn’t be sad or else: or else the deceased would be displeased, or else they wouldn’t move on, or else you would spiral, or else your life would be stuck, or else you would waste yourself in sadness, or else you would be stuck in lower vibrations; or else, or else, or else.
But with Dante, it was almost as if time had stopped. You were both encased, suspended in Time and Space, right at the front of the Devil May Cry. There was no urgency, nobody watching, no rules, no do’s and don’t do’s; just you and him.
And around Dante, it was always ok to cry.
He softened his expression as soon as he felt your body relaxing on his – you allowed yourself to lean further into him, and he promptly welcomed you. Dante wouldn’t stare, wouldn’t comment, wouldn’t make a fuss about it; but he did feel when your tears started to fall – your breathing changed, and you let go a deep sigh as if you had been holding your breath ever since the funeral.
Dante wrapped one of his arms around you, having you rest your head more comfortably against his chest – his whole body warming you up as the slightly chill air of the upcoming night started creeping up your legs and arms.
All the tears you both cried; they were not from attachment or being unable to move on. They were from all the love you still had inside your hearts that had nowhere to go anymore.
And now, both you and Dante could see how lucky you were to have experienced such a thing; including the bad, yes, but most importantly, the good.
Vergil
Sighing.
Vergil had never seen you sighing so much in your life.
After your loss, Vergil made it his mission to be there for you; to be the pillar you could always lean on whenever you needed, to be the one to hold you together when you couldn’t do it yourself. It was something he never had, and that, in all honesty, would have made a world of a difference when he was only a child.
He couldn’t deny it did bring him back to that bloody night at the cemetery, when his house burned along with his family and he died. But it was only a fleeting moment: when Vergil saw you cry – quietly, serenely, almost as if your own heart hadn’t fully understood the implications of what had just happened – his whole self was pulled back to the moment and to that intense need of offering you all he didn’t have.
Differently from the rest of the crew, Vergil got to watch as you silently retreated inside yourself. After the funeral, you went back to your normal life – even if slower than usual, more pensive than usual – but you didn’t stop completely as he had watched some people do. Around the crew, you kept on talking normally: smiling when you needed to, laughing a little less than the usual but still doing it, talking about mundane and work related things as you always did.
No trembling of tears in your voice, no difference of intonation; just you, as you always had been.
But when you were both alone, Vergil could see a change: you got more introspective, constantly thinking and observing mundane things – sometimes even watching ants walking along the sidewalk for hours if you could – almost as if your body was present, but your mind and your soul were somewhere far away.
Having already a quiet nature, Vergil observed the home you shared suddenly become silence incarnate. You didn’t put on music anymore, and he didn’t hear your voice sing the melodies his heart always longed to hear while he studied or trained. You did everything quietly, almost as if you were a silent ghost yourself. And your eyes… Filled with a melancholic longing, far away, in a place where Vergil could not reach you.
Whenever he started a conversation, though, he managed to bring you back. If only for a few moments; where you would talk, smile, and act as you always did – but Vergil could see it, in the back of your eyes as you stared at him.
Mourning, ever so present, an old friend he knew so well.
And then, you would sigh. In those moments you were both alone, and you would go about your life in silence, you let out long, deep sighs. Vergil always thought tears would follow, but they never did; and then, he started noticing it happened around the crew as well. No matter what you were doing, sometimes, you would let those sighs out – never rushed, never quick, never dismissing whatever they were there to do.
At your home, Vergil enjoyed staying around whenever you were painting in the living room, while reading one of his many books. You had been working on a beautiful nighttime landscape, carefully applying the shades of blue you loved so much, and he always found pleasure in watching you concentrate on the details every now and then – and how every time, you ended up getting some rogue paint on your face; from mindlessly brushing your hair away without noticing how dirty your hands were.
This time, he couldn’t get any reading done. You were working on your painting, but there was no progress: Vergil knew how much you could get done in one day; but now, you would work a little only to stop and stare at the canvas, thinking. In that far away place he couldn’t reach you.
That, he could understand. It took him a long time as a child to get used to it, to get his mind to quiet the ruminating thoughts so he could get some living done. Vergil had no one around to teach him how to get over losing everything in his life in such a horrible manner as he did: he was completely alone, with no one to lean on, and knowing the only thing he had to do was to survive, no matter what.
He used to sigh. He used to cry. Hopelessly. Sometimes, he would sit down in a safer corner at some backstreet, hug the Yamato and cry. Cry, cry, cry; until his body couldn’t handle it anymore. He would call for Eva, for Sparda, for Dante, ask why they abandoned him. What did he do for them not to love him and leave him to die. He would call for all the deities he knew and had heard about, for them to turn back time. To have mercy on him. To give his family, his home, his heart back. And every time, he would go unanswered and wake up exhausted, having to roam aimlessly until he found the solution to all that pain, all that grief he couldn’t handle: rip off his heart, that stupid human heart, and fight to survive.
With time, the crying stopped… But the sighing remained. Almost as if the tears were ingrained in him like a memory, and his human heart fought his body and his demonic will to come out one way or another – and Vergil would always suppress them; having them become his long, drawn out sighs he still let out, every now and then.
You were trying your best to hold yourself together, but Vergil could hear it in your sighs – the tears coming and going, like waves. Maybe you weren’t even consciously suppressing them, like he did, but something in you wasn’t allowing them to come out.
Vergil perked up his head as soon as he saw you fumbling on your painting chair; laying your brush down and slowly getting up. You didn’t seem to pay attention to where you were looking at; once again your eyes and thoughts far away from the things your body was doing.
But then, you held a little porcelain plate in your hands with some paint swatches and immediately stopped. He furrowed his brows, following your gaze to a few pieces of candy that, honestly, had been sitting on your painting table for months now – something you always liked to have around to snack during long sessions.
Your eyes, though, froze on them; as if nothing else was as important as those pieces of candy at the moment. Vergil kept quietly observing you, trying to understand what you needed – and he lost count of how long you stared at that same spot; thoughts as a tempest inside of your heart, as Vergil could only helplessly watch the calm at the surface.
Letting out a long sigh, you lowered your head, as your eyes filled up with tears. You furrowed your brows and sighed once more, almost as if trying to get those tears away without letting them stream down your face. Lifting the little porcelain plate from the table, you mechanically tried to get something done; but your hands trembled and your tears blurred your vision.
Vergil wasn’t fast enough to avoid a disaster, but he was enough to contain it. As soon as he noticed what was going to happen, he dropped his book on the reading armchair and ran to you as fast as he could – standing behind you, strongly holding both of your hands, as the little plate fell from your trembling fingers and broke into pieces, cutting your right hand in the process; the red blood giving you a very good reason to allow the tears to stream down your face.
“I… I’m sorry, I… It slipped…” You tried whispering, holding your feelings in and remaining as calm as possible; having almost no inflection in your voice, not allowing it to tremble. Vergil, though, could feel your arms trembling inside his hold, and your hands fighting, and failing, to remain stable.
“Shhh. It’s alright.” He whispered back, holding your left hand with a gentle firm grip – seeming so small inside his – while grabbing one of the pieces of cloth you used to clean excess paint to stop the bleeding on your right hand. “It’s not your fault.”
“It… I was trying… I don’t know what happened…” You still tried to justify yourself, still calmly, almost as if you were crying with no emotion behind. Vergil could feel it trying to fight between your words to burst out, as it had happened to him his entire life. “I…”
“I know. It’s fine.” His voice was a low whisper, reverberating on your back as his chest pressed behind you, keeping you stable on your feet. For someone with his renown and the most vicious of titles, Vergil could be quite delicate with his hands; softly wiping the blood that dripped through your fingers, and encasing your right hand with the cloth and his own soft, albeit strong grip to make sure it would stop the bleeding.
You remained quiet for a while, inside his arms. The tears kept falling, and you kept trembling in his grip; feeling his calm, rhythmic breathing pressing on your back, quietly leading you to do the same. If you wanted to stay silent, he would; if you wanted to talk he would. It had always been like that with Vergil, and he never feared the parts of you deemed too much or unacceptable – he himself had worse demons inside his own head to judge the ones inside yours.
And so, you let out a sigh.
“They love those candies.”
As you said those words, your voice finally started trembling. Vergil looked down only to see you starting to cry – honestly, freely, as you should have been doing ever since it happened. He held you slightly tighter, making sure you would understand he would stay through all your tears, your pain, your grief... Your worst.
“Every day I see them in something… But now I know they’re not coming back. They aren’t here. And it’s… Everything, it’s all… Everything is empty.” You tried to explain, having Vergil lean his head on yours – and somehow, that was the reassurance you needed to keep on speaking. To keep on opening your heart, in a way you never did with anyone else. “It’s not that I can’t let them go, it’s that… There’s this… This thing, I don’t know. It’s strange… This knowing, that I can’t go to them; I can’t talk to them, I can’t show them something, I can’t bring them their favorite candy, when they are a part of me. It’s…”
“Hollow. I know.” Vergil’s answer was quiet, still holding you together; even if now you cried freely in his arms. “It took me a long time to stop having the instinct of showing something I did to my mother. And everything would feel empty. Pointless.”
Vergil still remembered as if it was a fresh wound: him managing to do something complicated with Yamato, having that golden warmth of pride wash his heart, turning around to find Eva so he could show her what he managed to do… Only to immediately remember she was gone, he was alone, and his whole life had burned to the ground. For a fraction of a second, the world would be colorful and exciting, but then… Hollowness came back like a punch in his gut, knocking the air out of his lungs, and filling his eyes with tears he refused to cry.
And so, he would sigh; going back to whatever it was he was doing; with that neutral, melancholic grief finding home in his eyes.
“Pointless…” You repeated in between your tears, sobbing quietly as Vergil started slowly massaging your left hand; still holding the cloth on your right hand to make sure you wouldn’t hurt even more. “Something is missing. And life feels so… Strange. So alien. It goes on, I am going on, it can’t stop, but… Feels like something is off. Not something big, something small and daily, granted; that isn’t there anymore. Something that can’t go back. Can’t go back, because…”
“It won’t.” Vergil whispered quietly, now looking at a random spot on your painting table. He was living proof of that, and he knew exactly what you meant: people talked about ‘life going back to normal’ after something like that; but the truth was that life didn’t go back. Because it wouldn’t. “Life changed. Without warning, without asking… What is left, is to adapt. And it takes time. Don’t rush it.”
“Hmmm… Adapt to a new normal…” You nodded as you slowly absorbed his words, letting out another deep, long sigh and closing your eyes. Vergil pressed his body even more against yours, as he felt you leaning back on him; almost as if you were welcoming, accepting his whole presence, his help and his thoughts.
“I’ll always be here; through happiness or sorrow.” With those words, he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, feeling as you seemed to cry even more. “And you don’t have to rush any of those. I’ll be here.”
His hands always seemed so big next to yours; that was something you would always notice whenever you decided to play with his fingers or hold them between yours. Vergil wouldn’t say it, but he had a strange appreciation to how easily he could envelop you, with his hands or his arms, and keep you safe. Protected, no matter what.
And he did allow a faint smile to paint his lips as you turned around in his arms, hiding your face on his chest and allowing yourself to let all that mourning stream down your face with abandon; as he kept you in a secure embrace, with one of his hands calmly, rhythmically going down your hair.
It took him time to learn that mourning came from love – and with you, Vergil could remind himself that, when it came to an end, it was natural to cry.
"You are foolish to think you ever had control to relinquish to me in the first place."
SUMMARY | Vergil spirals into a deep obsession with a troubled woman he can't resist.
GENRE | smut, dark romance, fantasy, angst, one-shot
WC | 6k
TAGS | 18+ MDNI, Vergil Sparda x female!reader, harddom!Vergil, morally grey characters, sexual inexperience, prostitution/sex work, heavy themes, possessiveness, bondage/blindfolding, sexual tension, blowjob, oral sex, light biting, intercrural sex, rimming, mentions of physical abuse/harassment, slightly bratty reader, zero negotiation, aftercare, Vergil falls first and harder, Vergil has a heart if you squint, why is Vergil so daddy in this one omg, this is filthier than a devil's baptism ngl
A/N | This unexpected second installment was wholly fueled by the few kind comments on A Devil's Baptism on here and ao3. I've never been a fast writer, but I did work on this bit by bit for the past month lol. I like to let fics simmer for a bit, then revise with fresh eyes and repeat.
I decided to try something slightly different and alternate between Vergil and the reader's POV, strictly keeping their perspectives limited. While this was a bit more challenging to write, I think it allows you to infer and speculate on Vergil's motivations more during the intimate scenes. Additional A/N at the end. Enjoy!
When Vergil returned to Makai, he felt the need to overcorrect his foolish behavior by throwing himself into his duties as Nelo Angelo. Despite feeling strangely off-kilter from his first intimate encounter with a human, he executed his missions flawlessly and was commended for swift brutality.
But even then, the human's teasing voice plagued his mind: 'Do you draw out your victims' suffering like you do your lovers' pleasure?'
Contrary to what Vergil led her to believe, he wasn't the kind of warrior who prolonged his opponents' pain. And yet, a part of him wanted her to experience even a fraction of the turmoil she had managed to incite in him since their tryst.
He left her by the river sated and vulnerable, but that night would've ended very differently had he fully given in to his baser urges.
Such desires vexed him, and to his displeasure, they've only intensified since. While he'd been able to handle his own needs, they'd proven insufficient and lackluster by comparison to her. He hadn't anticipated the hunger; sharp, consuming, and wholly beneath him.
Vergil had always held himself above indulgence, but when that woman, a mere human, refused to cower from him, something he’d kept buried surged forth before he could stop it. One moment she'd been crying, trying to soothe the wounds inflicted by her own kind, and the next, she dared to challenge a devil.
In his experience, demons were incapable of feeling anything beyond lust or contempt for humans. Especially so towards a half-breed like himself that carried the blood of a Sparda, the dark knight who both represented the rise and fall of demon kind, branded as a traitor by the bitter and ignorant. Vergil was already considered a severe abnormality, but in all his years within Mundus' court, there were still those who saw his bloodline as power and gazed upon him with a covetous desire.
So for a human to unsettle a devil’s carnal nature, to make lust feel like weakness? Unheard of—and Vergil would ensure it remained so. If anybody caught wind of this, his reputation would be called under scrutiny.
He refused to be seen as an eager hellhound desperate for scraps of attention. Unlike a certain red devil wasting away on earth, Vergil did not require sapien comforts to get on with his day.
It took a mere three days before he broke and returned to the waterfall that bore witness to his deplorable affairs. An incredibly impulsive and foolish choice, especially when he decided to linger like a pathetic stray, hoping she would show. Three days had not been enough to forget what she'd done to him.
When she failed to show, Vergil's irritation hit its limit. He was tempted to go into town to locate her himself, but he thought twice. It dawned on Vergil that he knew her name, her scent, and her very taste—when all the while he also knew better than to have gotten involved at all.
At least an entire realm's worth of space needed to be maintained between them; anything less was precarious. After all, how could Sparda's true heir even think about simpering for a human?
Their encounter had been a lapse in judgement, which was why he needed to face her one last time to prove he could resist her temptation and remain unaffected. Otherwise, he'd be no better than the vile, falsified rumors about his father.
Yet resolve alone could not explain how he ended up in the shadows outside an unassuming teahouse.
Upon entering the establishment, he was assaulted by various scents that were unmistakably human. The interior appeared lavish, but beneath the incense and roasted tea leaves, it reeked of sex.
Revolting, except for the one scent that, to his annoyance, grew stronger the moment he crossed the threshold. The woman resided somewhere within the building, and the sooner he found her, the sooner he'd be able to confirm that he was still in control.
Two female staff had been conversing at the counter but paused when he approached. Both of their eyes lit up when he pushed back his hood. They exchanged keen glances before the older, more elegantly dressed of the two spoke up.
"Welcome in, sir. Please, follow me into our waiting room. May we take your cloak?"
Vergil shrugged off the dark fabric, letting the younger woman store it in a back room. He followed who he assumed to be the Madam into a quaint waiting room, a cushion waiting for him over tatami.
"You must have traveled a long way. Have you visited with us before?"
"Yes," he lied.
"Welcome back. Now, would you like to see who is available this evening for your company, or do you have someone in mind?"
Vergil gave your name, the first time he'd spoken it aloud outside of his chambers.
The Madam's eyes widened slightly before she expertly composed herself. "She has already been requested for this hour. If you wish, may I introduce someone of finer standing—"
"She is the sole one I want to see. Name your price."
The Madam's painted, wrinkled lips parted in consideration, then pressed into an appeasing line. "Apologies, sir, but we operate in a bit of a different manner. If your evening allows, you may rest here until her engagement concludes. Her later half of the night is still open; shall I secure it in your name?"
Pragmatic. Such rules were in place, likely to keep fights from breaking out amongst patrons.
Vergil's jaw worked as he glanced towards the rest of the wooden lobby. The half-devil wasn't used to abiding by human rules and regulations, but seeing as his only other option was razing the establishment… he shook off the intrusive thought.
Sapien affairs had never been his concern, but the brothel did pose as a minor nuisance, in the way that a fly might.
If he dispatched the Madam and any other higher-ranked staff, it would allow him to deal with you much more freely. Then again, to go to such extreme lengths for a sapien was an unnecessary hassle.
If he did, he'd be left with the burdensome responsibility of you. Returning to Makai with you in tow was an impossible feat. It's unlikely you would last even an hour in his realm due to the toxins in the air. Inhospitable environment aside, Nelo Angelo certainly could not be seen fraternizing with a sapien.
Vergil's human form alone was openly berated by his peers within the castle. Your presence would cause an uproar and bring his loyalty under scrutiny. You'd be a weakness he could never afford.
Placing you anywhere else on Earth where you'd be likely to thrive would be less of a hassle. However, the prospect of you gaining the freedom to cleave to another made him hesitate, something ugly rearing its head in his logic.
Vergil refused to acknowledge the tight, unwelcome pinch in his chest. What did a sapien's affairs matter to a demon? He had already learned the hard way that sentiment is a fatal affliction. A truth he discovered in blood and suffering and swore to remember always on behalf of his mother.
Vergil was no knight in shining armor; he hoped you weren't foolish enough to see him as such.
So, he gave the Madam a curt nod and settled into his seat. "Remind me of your services."
A dull pain throbbed in your cheek as you righted your robes over your shoulders, glimpsing the bruise blooming across your jaw in a tiny mirror. The bastard you refused to kiss had slapped you so hard you'd have given anything to sink your nails into his eye sockets.
But he was a known regular, and the other girls were working within close quarters. Only thin paneled screens separated the designated spaces for the lower-ranked courtesans, so with great self-control, you refused to make a scene. One of the errand girls named Mari rushed you once the hour was finished, and you had little motivation to resist her.
"Come. The Madam sent me to get you cleaned up and painted for your next patron," She whispered, tugging you into the hallway and up the stairs.
Since when did you ever get pampered before a session? Usually wiping down was sufficient.
"There's a man who requested you by name. He's been waiting, and you will host him in the luxe suite. Who is he?"
"I couldn't say," You insisted tiredly, letting her pull you into one of the large chambers that were typically off limits to lower courtesans like yourself.
Whoever he was, he must've been wealthy. On any other given day, you'd have been ecstatic to be out of the shared rooms even if for a night, but little could lift your spirit today.
"I swear on my life he's the finest man this brothel ever seen. White hair, blue eyes? Sound familiar?"
Vergil.
You swallowed thickly, an odd sense of anticipation spreading through your chest. "I'd have to see him first."
You'd been a mess that night by the falls, in need of a brief escape but even more so in need of money to put towards your crippling debt to the brothel. In all truth, your mental state had only frayed further since, but at the very least tonight you'd be miserable in fine robes with a good-looking stranger. Or demon, rather.
Your encounter with Vergil had been exhilarating, his attentiveness despite his inexperience and gruffness rather charming, but you'd make no mistake to fall for him.
Mari began to undress you, tossing your robe onto the floor and pushing you into a large, hot basin filled with spring water. Your hiss was all but ignored as she scrubbed at your skin with a washcloth.
"Wouldn't you remember someone with stark white hair? Apparently he's been here before, but I don't recognize him at all. He looks like a noble but—" Mari gasped in dismay, finally spotting the patchy flush across your jaw. "What happened?"
You ran your hand through the scalding water, watching the surface ripple. "It's nothing to fret over." Harassment was a common occurrence. The majority of patrons knew kissing was improper etiquette in your line of work, but entitled, delusional lowlifes still existed.
"Oh, gosh. We have to get that covered up."
"I'm in your hands, Mari."
As the Madam led Vergil deeper inside the building, muted sounds of pleasure bled through the thin partitions, each one scraping against his sharp hearing. He tuned them out with a scowl, sorely reminded of his shortcomings.
The blue devil's patience had been bled dry. With every second that ticked by in this sordid place, unwanted thoughts of you threatened to breach the walls of his mind—crushed before they could surface.
He caught your scent earlier on a grumbling sapien swine who barreled out the door. The unwelcome reminder that you entertained more than one lover caused Vergil's hand to twitch against the hilt of Yamato.
Vergil had known what he was getting into when he agreed to compensate you that night by the waterfall. Of course he knew, and still he'd bitten out of curiosity he should have never indulged.
Vergil would not be led astray by his urges again. No sapien would be granted any significance in his world. He came for one reason alone. This would be his first and last visit to your domain, nothing more.
"She awaits your company, sir."
The door slid shut, and you found Vergil's sharp eyes in the dim lantern light, his physicality even more imposing within four enclosed walls, never mind the suite's spaciousness.
Your pulse tripped at the sight of his severe yet handsome features, remembering the way his fervent efforts led to your ruin. It was a wonder he stopped when he did that night, when most men would take it all the way.
Still, your seemingly impenetrable devil in disguise had returned to you, cloaked in that unforgettable blue coat, wielding that curious, enchanted blade at his side.
"Vergil. You found me." With a subtle smile, you tempered your excitement and gracefully poured him tea, just as you've done hundreds of times before.
When Vergil remained by the doorway, you lifted your head curiously. Was he being shy after everything?
"Please, come join me for some tea." You gestured politely to the floor cushion by your side.
"That mark."
Your lips parted in surprise as you raised a hand to your tender jaw. You thought Mari did a decent job hiding the bruise with powder.
"Oh, just a silly accident. Please don't concern yourself with the matter."
Vergil's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing. Already sensing him bristle, you rushed forward, placing yourself between him and the door. Whether he was thinking to leave or inflict punishment on the perpetrator, you weren't sure, nor were you willing to take any chances.
The brothel couldn't afford to lose any regular patrons; you couldn't afford it. Not tonight, not with your debt strangling you—and if he made a scene, you'd be punished for it. "It's nothing of significance. Stay. I really hoped we'd see each other again."
His eyes were piercing, nearly making you sweat beneath your collar before they shut briefly in concession. Eventually, he moved past you towards the open balcony with that intimidating gait of his, resembling the restrained prowl of a white tiger.
"You kept me waiting, human."
You released a huff, but lowered your voice to something polite, "Thank you for your patience. I had previous engagements, as you know."
"Not just today."
It took you a moment to realize he must've returned to the waterfall at some point. "I haven't been granted a chance to leave at all. Not even to pawn your payment from our last meeting. When did you return to the falls?"
Vergil met your gaze. Despite his impeccable appearance, you sensed frustration beneath the surface. "Returning was a lapse in discipline."
You fell silent at the unexpected contrition tightening his voice. "Well… I'm sure you're a busy man, and yet you still found me. It's only human to desire comfort."
Vergil's jaw tightened; that unreadable gaze of his flitted down to your lips, his brow furrowing. "Comfort is a human weakness. You know I am not human."
"Considering your strange abilities, I garnered as much. You aren't, at least not fully…"
“Even knowing what I am, you persisted in provoking me.”
Provoking. You supposed you did plenty of that during your first meeting and regretted none of it. Seeing as how wild your last encounter had been, the current amount of formality between you two tickled you a bit. Outside of town, you didn't have to upkeep a facade. But the brothel had a reputation to uphold, and you easily assumed a mask to protect yourself within its walls.
Reading people had become easier over the years, and discernment was a skill you honed to ensure your survival. Vergil allowed little room for pretenses even though he maintained a pristine front himself. However, after your brief encounter, you questioned its integrity.
Clearly something about you drew him back, but he felt distant and agitated, like a wild creature that was unwilling to admit it wanted to be domesticated. It didn't matter what the reason might've been; it was your job to close the gap at any cost. Vacillating men like Vergil just required a bit more effort to secure.
You slid your hand across his chest and peered up at his regal features from under your lashes. Not a white strand out of place, except for the single one that fell over his brow. His natural scent pervaded the space as you leaned closer. Faintly metallic but not as overwhelming as last time, with hints of dry stone underlined by dark musk. Deliciously masculine.
"It doesn't make a difference to me. I won't make you wait any longer, Vergil."
The sharp inhale he took sounded like raw restraint fraying at the edges, his broad chest rising and falling beneath your fingertips. The definition of pent-up if you ever saw it.
"I forget…" Deliberately pressing your breasts against his chest, your voice dipped to a whisper meant only for him, "You prefer to be the one in control."
A flicker of shock crossed his features when you withdrew your touch. He smothered it, a storm gathering behind his eyes as he watched you retreat one step, then another.
In a blur, he caught your waist, trapping you firmly against him. You felt him then, the hard planes of his body and the prominent bulge between your thighs. Your nipples drew taut beneath your robe as his dark eyes bore into you.
"You are foolish to think you ever had control to relinquish to me in the first place." The half-demon relished the deep shiver that wracked your body, the sound of your quickening pulse as clear as church bells to his ears.
He unraveled the braided rope and sash holding your robe together and made quick work of securing your wrists behind your back in a perfectly tight knot with the rope. His eyes never left yours even as you stared back in momentary disbelief, offering yourself up willingly.
The art of shibari had become a skill you honed to strengthen your repertoire as a courtesan. It had also been a venture that provided a sense of control for you in a world that permitted you little. It was clear that Vergil would never surrender himself willingly, but the image of him bound with intricate knots was certainly enticing. However, it was unlikely he'd allow you to today. You noticed he had a penchant for ensuring you hadn't forgotten your place in his pecking order.
Vergil's fingers curled around your nape like claws, his cold voice ghosting against your ear: "Kneel."
Once you obediently dropped to your knees, Vergil's hand withdrew, leaving you longing for his touch. Suddenly, cool silk slid over your eyes, completely obscuring your vision. You drew in a sharp breath, realizing he used your sash. Chills shot down your spine as you tuned into his movements around you and tried to anticipate his next move.
Something briefly scraped the wall before settling with a muted thunk, followed by leather shifting over fabric and a metal clink that made your heart pound.
The fleeting silence was disrupted by daunting footsteps circling your body, coming to a stop in front of you. Calloused fingers cupped your jaw, the light sweep of a thumb over your tender bruise causing you to flinch more out of surprise than pain.
"Open," he grunted.
At his command, you waited with parted lips until wet heat kissed your tongue, the tip of his cock pressing past your tinted lips. Hungrily, you sealed a kiss around the swollen head, lapping at the pre-cum that dribbled from his slit. The taste of him was a shocking, bittersweet heat that made your mouth water. Vergil shuddered deeply from above, one hand carding through your hair, the other presumably kept wrapped around himself.
With your vision impeded and wrists bound, you relied on his guiding hand to set the pace, falling back on your experience to steady your breathing. He started slow, feeding you mere inches of his length, then backed off, gauging your limits.
Within minutes, Vergil slid hot and heavy against your throat at a satisfying cadence; thicker than he had any right to be. Your lips stretched tightly around him, each pump of his strong hips testing your resolve.
With your sight impaired and hearing heightened, you could only imagine the kinds of expressions he was making that matched the groans he tried to stifle. Your hips squirmed in an attempt to relieve the damp ache between your thighs, to no avail.
"Wider," He hissed lowly, easing up to wait for your jaw to slacken further. One hand remained firm atop your head, which only meant there was more of him left you'd yet to reach.
You licked your lips before mouthing a sly kiss over his crown, making his hips twitch. "Let me see you, Vergil."
The blue devil growled at your defiance, tugging at your scalp. The slight sting felt deviously pleasant. "I said open wider."
"But I want to see you," You murmured against his cock, undeterred, laving your tongue against a warm, throbbing vein. "I'll be able to pleasure you even better if you unbind me. I've been obedient for you, haven't I?"
"Such cunning words out of a filthy mouth." He grasped your chin and tapped your cheek with his forefinger. "Now."
Pursing your lips, you slowly unfurled your tongue for him, waiting. When Vergil nudged his hips forward, you allowed the dull edge of your front teeth to catch against the ridge of his tip before giving his hot slit another lap, his flavor rolling thick across your tongue.
A low moan of disbelief ripped from Vergil's throat, the man going deathly still above you.
Satisfaction swelled in your chest, and it must've shown because suddenly dim light flooded your bleary vision and you found yourself blinking up at a feverish half-devil who looked prepared to devour you whole. Your clit pulsed at the wrecked sight of Vergil, his chest heaving and cheeks warm. The rest of him…
Vergil slowly gripped your throat, his voice low and strained with confusion. "Audacious little—"
He swallowed his words when he noticed how entranced you were by his arousal, flushed and slick against his abdomen. The second your eyes met again, it sent a shock through your system, heat surging to your core, pupils dilating.
Vergil didn't have to pull you forward; you were already tripping over your knees to get your mouth back on him like a parched woman who'd been abandoned to wander the desert for days.
He drew your face against him, letting you mouth freely along his length like an insatiable pet. Against his better judgment, especially after the cheeky little nip you gave him.
The blue devil's eyes grew half-lidded as you sucked greedily on his tip before taking him deeper. Saliva dribbled down your chin, your vision blurring at the edges as you ravenously hollowed your cheeks. By the way his hips were trembling, he was close, and you couldn't wait to do the haughty bastard in.
You spread your knees a little wider across the floor to steady yourself before you took Vergil's cock to the hilt. You watched his features contort into a dark, rapturous expression, one you wanted to commit to memory forever.
A shaky moan rumbled through his ribs as he held your face against his pelvis. You nuzzled forward, the tip of your nose brushing against his silver tufts before you pulled back and let his cock slip out of your throat with a gasp.
Vergil's gaze followed the thick strings of your saliva clinging from your lips to his twitching, swollen length.
He reached for you before you could catch your breath. Your stomach dropped as he hauled you up into his arms, maneuvering you upside down until you came face-to-face with his glorious cock once more.
You whimpered at the friction of your aching nipples rubbing against the fabric of his vest. If you had any say, you would've peeled off every last piece of his stuffy garments.
Vergil seemed to enjoy showing off his strength by manhandling you in this ridiculous position. All the while, you were getting a head rush being held upside-down, adrenaline spiking through your veins.
Despite being drunk with pleasure, you managed to hook your ankles behind his neck. There was no way for you to break your fall if he actually let you slip from his grasp due to your bound wrists. Not that you truly thought he'd allow you to slip away from him without his say-so.
Strong hands effortlessly gripped your hips, as he shamelessly buried his nose against your heady scent. Vergil greeted your clit with a heavy drag of his tongue, gathering your sweetness on his tongue in one go. Shockingly more merciful than you'd been to him.
The rough groan he let out rumbled through his ribcage, vibrating against your throbbing lower half.
Your breath hitched, "Vergil…"
"Suck," He commanded with a nip to your inner thigh before diving back into your warm folds.
Devotedly, you ran your tongue down his happy trail before swallowing his length. He hit the back of your throat with ease thanks to gravity elongating your neck into the perfect channel for his heat. It was a welcome challenge to focus on pleasuring him while suspended upside down in the clutches of a voracious, half-devil that had staked his claim between your thighs.
A single thrilling finger lightly circled your rim, causing your eyes to flutter open. Vergil's touch was contemplative and asking for permission. It was his lucky day; at this point you'd let him do anything he wanted to you.
You released his cock to answer him eagerly, "Yes. Yes—"
A warm flick of his tongue sent a jolt racing down your spine.
"Tart little thing," he muttered before licking a slow, broader stripe from clit to rim.
"Vergil—!" His hard-on twitched against your cheek, the man evidently pleased at the sound of his name dripping from your sinful lips.
"Who even taught you this?" You barely managed to get out, speckled stars swimming in your vision.
He gave the flesh of your ass a rough, punishing squeeze, eliciting another yelp from you. "Still have breath to spare for nonsensical questions, I see."
Just as you were about to retort, he viciously dragged his tongue through your folds and circled your rim before licking back down your slit to suck your clit. Your lips parted in awe, a strangled sound escaping as trigasmic pleasure rippled down your spine. These new sensations were maddening in a way you've never experienced.
Vergil remained unyielding even when your thighs slammed over his ears, your body uselessly wrestling against his, begging to be pushed over the cliffside. He seemed to disregard the fact that you'd forgotten about pleasuring him as he lost himself in your taste.
"God, I can't. Please…" An orgasm was fast approaching, one you couldn't fake, unlike all the other insignificant times before. It had been so long since pleasure felt like something you earned rather than endured with someone.
Vergil slid his arms around your waist, securing your thrashing body against his, sensing your impending demise. That unruly tongue of his began to lave up and down your seam in long, succulent sweeps, causing the knot behind your navel to snap.
"Give it to me," Vergil demanded with a hungry suck to your clit, causing your pussy to flutter obediently.
Without warning, you broke in his arms, the pleasure too immense to voice. Like an insatiable beast, Vergil swallowed your sweetness, rivulets of it trickling down his chin while wave after wave surged through you. Pounding darkness engulfed your vision, making you question if he really dropped you down a bottomless abyss.
Shortly after, your own breathy moans finally cut through the ringing in your ears. Vergil barely let up, revitalized by your taste as he pressed lingering kisses to your sensitive clit, your lashes fluttering with the contact.
Something wet smeared against your jaw; his swollen cock still dripping obscenely onto the floor below.
Before you could act, Vergil untied your wrists and moved to lay you down over the sizable bed in a graceful manner only he could've managed.
"Ah…" There was nothing you could do but squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the dizziness to subside while you caught your breath.
A part of you was tempted to slip away into sleep right then and there, your arms aching from being bound. A wildly unprofessional choice but undeniably appealing nonetheless. The other half was anxious to face him, only because you could practically feel the half-devil teeming with energy he'd yet to expend. Maybe if you just stayed quiet you'd melt into the sheets…
"Come here. I'm far from done with you."
Your eyes flew open and caught sight of Vergil with a feral glint in his eye, relishing your taste on his lips in a way that made you flush. He had shed his coat and cravat, revealing a sleeveless mock vest that accentuated his broad shoulders. Those arms of his were as sculpted as you last remembered them to be when he was nude and drenched beneath moonlight. Tonight, he was bathed in an opulent orange glow and carved by shadows just for you.
The bed dipped significantly beneath his weight as he knelt onto it, eyeing you with dark intent. You distantly recalled Vergil had been somewhat tentative by your standards while exploring your body just a few nights prior. What had happened in between then and now for a monster to be crawling towards you like he had no intention of ever letting you go?
"Of course… ah!" You shakily pushed yourself up, but Vergil was quicker. He tugged you towards him by your ankles in one swoop, gathering your legs together tightly against his chest instead of spreading them as one might.
He began to ground his hips against the back of your thighs, heat searing against your skin. You blinked up at him curiously but he only sped up, desperation sparking behind his stormy eyes.
Once his gaze fell on your swaying breasts, he seized your tit, drawing your nipple to harden with his thumb. You gasped as his cock breached the tight flesh of your inner thighs, the underside of his length sliding through your folds and catching on your sensitive clit. The sight of his reddened, soaked tip peeking through your legs made you squirm.
Surely he was teasing you, but as he began to quicken his thrusts, you realized that wasn't the case.
Vergil held fast to your legs, your ankles hooked just over his shoulder as he rutted between them to chase his own high. He hiked them higher on his shoulders so he could angle his thrusts deeper, his hips snapping against your ass.
"Vergil, you don't have to hold back…"
The half-demon's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't switch positions. His pre-cum soaked your navel and thighs with each rough thrust that would've shifted you up the sheets had he not anchored you to him.
"Be grateful I am." Vergil's deep rasps filled your ear before he bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulder.
"Ahn!" The mix of pain and pleasure that electrified your nerves was nearly debilitating.
His hand snaked around your neck, pinning you beneath him as he came across your ribs in thick, hot spurts. He let out a deep groan that vibrated through your skull, causing you to whimper softly like prey caught between a predator's jaw.
Vergil was a frighteningly heavy mass of pure muscle and felt like he was running an infernal fever, but it was gratifying to let him take refuge against you. His entire body eclipsed yours as you let your thighs fall open to accommodate his trembling form, his hips jerking from the aftershocks.
Surprisingly, Vergil responded to your welcoming touch even in his overwhelmed state. He let out a breathy moan against your neck, licking over the love bite he left like a wolf might soothe a wound. You felt his tongue trace up your sweat-damp skin and over your tender jaw, his hand tilting your face towards his.
Your eyes rounded at the sight of his half-lidded ones, recognizing the drunken lust in them. Your pulse tripped when he lightly brushed the tip of his sharp nose along yours, and leaned in closer.
Before he could capture your lips, you tucked your chin, leaning back ever so slightly.
The startled look in his eyes mirrored yours for a split second, like you'd broken the spell. His gaze dropped to your lower cheek, leaving you to wonder if the bruise from earlier was more prominent now beneath smeared make-up.
The white-haired devil pulled away abruptly, as if coming to his senses. He withdrew to the edge of the bed to adjust his attire. Suddenly all warmth had drained from your body.
"Vergil," his name tumbled out of your mouth, but he was already disappearing into the adjacent bathing room.
A shuddering sigh escaped you as you peered down at the generous mess he left over your flushed skin. Absentmindedly, you ran your fingers through his essence, smearing it across your tummy. You brought your coated fingertips up to your face before a large hand encircled your wrist.
Vergil had returned with a soaked cloth in hand; his touch unexpectedly grounding as he erased the evidence of his desire from your body. You couldn't take your eyes off him. His fingers were long and elegant, spanning across your curves, capable of snapping delicate bone in a heartbeat if he so wished.
Just what sort of upbringing shaped the self-possessed man before you? Everything about this moment felt like a strange contradiction. The gesture was just as unusual a second time around. It was something a small part of you wished you could get used to.
Once he finally wiped your fingers clean, his thumb slid over your thrumming pulse, his pale eyes slowly sliding up to meet yours.
After a breath, Vergil disposed of the soiled fabric and stood with his back against you, shrugging on his coat. "This is the last you will see of me, human."
A cold rush of regret surged through your chest, but you didn't allow it to inundate you. You slid towards the edge of the bed and wrapped a thin robe around yourself. "If I crossed a line, tell me."
He huffed as he retrieved his blade, propped against the wall. The start of a downpour could be heard outside of the open balcony, a frigid draft entering the room.
You tried again, hands pressing into the sheets beneath you, "Vergil. Your secret is safe with me."
The half-devil halted in his tracks, then turned to face you: the very image of ravished. He stared silently for a beat too long, like he was trying to memorize you against his own will. "You misunderstand your position."
"Do I? From the start, I could sense you were different than the others. I never assumed that you'd come looking for something beyond what I can offer—just that you didn't treat me like refuse when most would."
Vergil tracked the movement of your fingertips as you brushed over the edge of your bruise. He hesitated before he tore his gaze away. "Nobody comes to a brothel searching for anything of worth."
You'd heard worse, but his words still stung more than you'd ever admit out loud.
He tossed something onto the sheets beside you, a small orb similar to the first he'd given you by the falls. An entirely unnecessary payment since the Madam always required it upfront for her girls. But you weren't in a position to refuse it, even though you wanted to.
When you lifted your head, Vergil had already disappeared into the stormy night from the balcony, leaving a cold trail in his wake.
___
A/N | Thank you for reading, liking, sharing, or commenting on my work! I'm not entirely set on a third installment bc I haven't outlined anything yet, so again, no promises, as I don't want to lead readers on. But I do want to write more fics for Vergil, Dante, and Nero too until s3 comes around!
Fun fact: writing A Devil's Baptism and A Devil's Fatal Affliction back to back was a little emotionally draining due to the heavy themes. I so badly wanted to write a healthy, soft, and intimate scene between Vergil and the MC, (I JUST WANT THEM TO CUDDLE AND MAKEOUT), but they're not quite there yet. MC definitely needs some major tlc though </3 I need to write something a little more lighthearted after posting this lol.
Even so, Vergil's duality is one of my favorite aspects about his character, so it's been fun to explore it in a different context. He talks a lot of shit and is an immature dumbass with questionable morals in this fic, but he still can't keep a sliver of humanity from bleeding into his actions. Trying to find that balance is a challenge, and I definitely took more cues from his younger ndmc counterpart. I hope you enjoyed reading!
I realize it’s been FOREVER since I last posted something about my fanfic on Riley Pierce and the White Rabbit and I apologize. I’ve been absent.
Chapter 9, “Our Lady of Sorrows” is done, and it’ll be posted in separate sections as usual and will involve a short story on the WRabbit/lackeys on their pov after part 3. 😌
But I promise I’ll post part 1 of Chapter 9 tomorrow. It’ll be mentioning what happened to Arlo the night when the portal closed.
Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.
Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Proceed with caution
In this one we're also starting to see Vergil has dissociation episodes and uses grounding techniques not to have panic attacks
Author’s notes: I hope you guys can forgive me for taking so long to update after I said I wouldn't. Someone in my family had an accident and I had to be around to care for them - been running on low energy for quite a while because it has taken me all my attention and time. I will keep on writing and updating, and I'm thankful for you guys being patient with me "^^
Alsooooo... I love Vergil and reader being two freaks a little bit too excited to be fighting each other again in this chapter 👀
Chapter 11
It all felt like a dream sometimes.
Hearing his own footsteps walking in derelict cities again, while the screeching of far away demons terrorized innocent people, looking like hazy memories of a long gone past… Seen through the lens of dreams; fruits of dissociation moments that kept him alive through the worst torments he could endure.
And that was the word. Endure. Double-edged, bitter and sweet: carrying the bite of a torture and the pride of sheer will. Vergil endured and survived. He didn’t really know how, but he did.
What to do, then, after going through all that pain? How to feel, now that there was more than hurting to be felt? He did take things for granted when he was younger – with such recklessness, such iron will, there was nothing but his goal in front of him. But now… It was even strange, to feel the slightly cold bite of the wind against his face, gradually chapping his dry lips; to feel the ups and downs of different pavements under his feet; the warmness of the blood of the demons he killed, sprinkling over his face and clothes.
And now, back to the human world… Back to the rare openings of the Abyss. Vergil thought he had forgotten how it felt like, but as soon as he stepped on the streets of Mercy Springs, he had that tug in his chest – the one that never forgot how clear his mother’s voice sounded when he tried to reach the Abyss for the very first time.
Vergil also sensed something else… A different kind of stir, that he thought long gone. One that would only cause tempest inside him when the Abyss was near… And that stubborn, prideful human appeared to fight him and fumble all his plans.
Vergil furrowed his eyebrows even further, still walking without any detours or distractions towards where he felt the Abyss could be found. Even while chained under Mundus’ control, he kept seeing that human; that stubborn, arrogant, skilled… Pitiful human, kneeling on the other side of that cold, dark, forgotten place he would always find in his mind – he didn’t know if he was sleeping or awake when those encounters happened, but he did remember them.
And he always wondered why.
Why, out of all the people he had ever met, it was you appearing as a vision…? As broken and shattered as him, looking so… Defeated. Lifeless. It bothered him to always look into your eyes and find that version of you completely voided of light; of the spark of will and survival you carried since the first day you met. A warrior with no reason, torn apart and… Tired.
You deserved better than that. He deserved better than that.
Perhaps you were a mirror – one of many Mundus had put in front of him; to mock him, to humiliate him. To remind him, over and over, he was nothing but a scared child, being maimed and torn apart in a cemetery while terrified, crying for someone to save him. A broken warrior, voided of light, defeated by their own heart.
It didn’t explain why you appeared when his shackles were broken, though. Why it was you who lit up his spark, to try one last time. To survive. No matter the consequences.
“No matter the consequences…” Vergil murmured to himself, encountering a block in his path: one of the buildings around him had collapsed, creating a barrier that was, perhaps, too much for him to cut through. “Hmmm…”
Vergil discreetly looked around, trying to find an alternative path. If there was none, he would have to put Yamato to use and break through that solid wall of building debris. It would take a while, but it would be better than getting lost, trying to find something in a city he did not know.
Even if he was concerned about solving the problem at hand, Vergil did notice a presence shifting the energy around. Quiet steps approached with precision; too elegant and quiet to be his brother’s.
You had sensed the Abyss, as much as he did – but also that presence, that you would only find in your dreams. Upon seeing that man walking with a purpose down the street, you did think that, maybe, your mind was fooling you… That maybe he was another one of the Abyss’ tricks, luring you closer and closer.
You did have to get there, so it wasn’t much of a bad thing.
As he halted at the same place you did earlier – and now you were back from searching an alternative route – you observed him carefully; almost like a predator stalking their prey.
He was different. Of course, it was to be expected after so long, but he wasn’t wearing his signature long blue coat that made you easily find him whenever you met – or thought you met him. Watching him from behind, he held his sword in one of his hands as he always did, but what made you certain it was him, was the regal demeanor that he seemed to carry at all times.
Proud. Arrogant. Ruthless. Even if his long coat was now black and frayed, you were sure.
And you did try to ignore how your heart seemed like it was going to jump out of your throat – you never thought you would be filled with so much joy upon finding, once again, the best adversary you ever had; that he was not dead.
There was still a chance to have him die by your hands.
“After all this time…” Your voice echoed on the silent street, making Vergil slowly turn his head to one side, to look over his shoulder. You could only see the silver of his eyes, but you knew he was back. “Hello, demon.”
It was your voice. Of his enemy. Alive.
Vergil had hopes, but in what seemed to be an eternal torture, he thought it was only a foolish glimmer to be smothered, as all other light inside of him.
But it wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dissociation episode. It wasn’t a fantasy made up by his mind to have him endure. It was real: the coldness against his cheeks, the faint breeze between his strands of hair, the blood slithering through his fingers, your voice.
It was real, and you were alive.
You held back your reaction to frown in confusion as soon as you saw a smile appearing in his lips. Instead, you slightly raised your head, carrying the proud demeanor you would always bore whenever he was around.
“You still haven’t given up, human…?” He turned around slowly, just like he asked that question. His eyes looked sharper and colder, almost as if a glare was enough to kill one of his foes, and his face carried the years that went by – even after everything, time had kept most of his appearance; but he did have something of harsher and more dangerous since the last time you saw each other.
“You should know better.” Your answer came with a prouder tone, carrying a certainty set in stone as you took out your sword and had it ready to fight – with your head held slightly high, pointing the silver blade to his feet. It wasn’t a fighting stance, and it was deliberate: you were telling him you didn’t have to get ready to attack or defend; you had honed your skills enough to be able to do any of those at lightning speed – and to be able to read him in the blink of an eye. “I don’t give up.”
Vergil, in response, limited himself to raise one brow – considering if, for the first time, you weren’t thinking too highly of your skills. After all… He was a lot more powerful than the last time you fought.
He did enjoy it, though.
“I see reasoning won’t work with you.” Vergil mused, still with a half-smile on his lips, entertained by the thought of fighting you after such a long time – he didn’t have the intention to hurt you, but if you proved to be too much of a nuisance and a delay in getting to the Abyss on time, he would have to deal with you.
“I told you before…” And, as you spoke, Vergil unsheathed the Yamato, keeping the blade in one hand and the sheathe on the other. His eyes turned to a predator gaze, as he slowly walked around, studying how you moved your feet to circle him and figure out the best moment to attack. You couldn’t help but have a small smile on your own lips: no one had ever fought you like he did. “Every time the Abyss opens, I will be here to stop you.”
And you could swear you heard a faint giggle, as he kept his slow and certain circling footwork.
“I wouldn’t wish it otherwise. Human.”
You had almost forgotten how he spoke that word nearly like an insult.
It was as if you both had felt the other was about to attack and didn’t want to leave the pleasure of the first move to the enemy – the moment you raised your sword, was the moment Vergil’s grip on Yamato got tighter and soon you were running towards each other; blades clashing with the strength of skillful attacks, rekindling a rivalry that was never lost.
Vergil had almost forgotten how it was to fight you. Fighting Dante was one thing – he was as strong as Vergil, skilled in his very own way; Dante knew so many different styles and mastered so many different weapons, he was a constant surprise when fighting against. Vergil always knew to expect the unexpected and never take things for granted with his brother – and knew the source of his power derived from his heart.
Fighting Dante was like fighting uncontrollable fire; which would only spread in unpredictable patterns if not smothered of all its oxygen to put it out. You had the same spark of human passion in yourself, but you used it almost like its own weapon: your eyes carefully observed the battle and your opponent, allowing that fire to burn like fuel only in the most opportune moments.
There was a delightful difference between fighting you both: Dante was a trial of skill and power, stemming from the same blood that took different paths and opposite approaches to survival; You were a graceful combat, requiring knowledge of intricate techniques, footwork, opponent reading and pure focus – almost like a grounding meditation, rooting oneself at that very moment, with distraction being harshly punished with blood.
You moved your feet skillfully on the pavement, perfectly complementing his tactical maneuvers – almost as if, for each of his movements, you knew the precise response. As Vergil attacked, you blocked; already with your counter-attack in mind, delivering all his strength back to him.
It was a good thing he was used to blocking powerful blows – after all, Dante didn’t hold back when fighting Vergil.
He was taken slightly aback, though, when you stringed a series of furious attacks, a lot quicker than he remembered you were able to. Something of it resembled his own speed – of course, with the limitations of humans – but it was obvious you put in a lot of training to be able to get to that swiftness.
Vergil couldn’t hold back a quiet smile on the corner of his lips: that meant he could pick up the pace.
You immediately noticed how much faster his counter-attack came – and answered in equal footing, blocking with your blade and already thinking of your next attack. Vergil, though, seemed to be on a mission to see how fast you could be – and how quickly he could attack you.
That was something you learned while fighting him: keeping your eyes on your enemy, at all times. You didn’t divert your attention from his hands, from his blade, from his feet. Looking down, you could see how he was about to step, and you could infer which would be his next attack – and you blocked all the attacks he made rain upon you; skillfully mirroring his steps as you walked backwards, with Vergil pushing you increasingly near the building behind you.
You narrowed your eyes, which made his silvery predator gaze spark with attention. You knew what he was trying to do: if he backed you to the wall, there would be no escape; you would be at his mercy and any evading would become more difficult by the second.
It was a common strategy to lock down your enemy, cornering them in a way it was hard to counter-attack and the only movement they had left was defending until breaking. As soon as you narrowed your eyes, Vergil knew you had picked up on his strategy.
And you countered him faster than he expected.
Before he could get you halfway towards the building, that newly found viciousness of yours sparked again in your fighting; with a flick of the wrist, you found an opening to change from a defensive position to an attack position, and counter the speed at which Vergil was attacking you.
He couldn’t stop himself from finding it interesting, how much you had grown through all those years he was locked in Hell – apparently, you had found someone to practice with, even without him around. Your attacks were now refined as ever, but with an edge of ruthlessness that you seemed to avoid when you were younger… And he could appreciate that.
What Vergil didn’t appreciate, though, was when you started pushing back, making him walk backwards… And, with that, after having one of your attacks blocked by Yamato’s blade, you did something that made him furrow his brows in the middle of the fight: in the blink of an eye, you let go of the hilt of the sword, only to catch it below with your free hand.
And, as Vergil was distracted by watching where your sword was going, he didn’t see your dominant hand flying right to his face – hitting him with a well placed punch that made him stumble back; both in surprise and rage.
Those silvery eyes now carried that spark that you didn’t see in years, but also harbored a burning hatred and an outrage, that it seemed like you had just spat on his shoes and bit your thumb at him – on your very best Capulet spiteful behavior, awakening the indignation of your enemy Montague.
If Vergil didn’t know better, he would say you learned that move from Dante.
His chest stirred with a turmoil he didn’t feel in quite a while as soon as you let out a quick laugh – a fun one, sparkling with enjoyment – and turned your back to him; casually flexing your hand from the impact and going back to a fighting stance.
Vergil fixed his posture, properly getting back on his feet, raising his head in his arrogant stance he would never stop carrying.
“I see you’re savoring your little trick…” His comment was slowly paced, as Vergil always spoke with purpose. You looked back at him, holding your sword with your dominant hand again, having a smart smile on your lips and a piercing look in your eyes. “I see no reason why I shouldn’t enjoy myself either.”
“I did learn a thing or two while you were away, demon…” You couldn’t help the sparkling pride bubbling inside your chest, as you took a more confident stance – forgoing a bit of your defense. “Do your worst.”
Vergil had to smile as he narrowed his eyes: oh, wasn’t hubris always the sentiment that preceded a great fall?
He should know well, for it was the reason of his own – and now, it was like gazing into one of Mundus’ mocking mirrors; having him stare right back at the actions that caused his predicament in the first place.
He knew exactly what to do with you.
Running with that inhuman speed you only witnessed once, Vergil charged in with little consideration to your humanity – and your fragility, comparing to his demonic heritage. You managed to quickly dodge him, stepping away with skillfully trained steps; something Vergil didn’t quite expect.
But he was adapting. Fighting you was like a game of chess, and that meant he had to read your moves and make sure he was at least two steps ahead of you. With the time you’ve been apart, you had added an edge of viciousness to your gracefulness, and, apparently, a certain degree of unpredictability and different fighting styles – mixing moves you wouldn’t before; not remaining purely with sword-fighting.
He had to wonder where you got that from, but that was a question for another time. Vergil knew quite well focusing entirely on the battle at hand was the best way to stay ahead of your moves and, in a blink, he made sense of them. You were faster than before, yes, but not faster than him.
Vergil attacked with both the blade and the sheathe of his sword, barely giving you time to try to parry his attacks, only block. It was your turn to furrow your brows as you felt how stronger his attacks were – almost as if he was holding back before; and something stirred at the base of your stomach, telling you he wasn’t using his full strength yet. It was quite different than the times you fought at the edge of the Abyss, trying to stop each other – and you had to admit, he did grow more powerful after all those years you hadn’t seen him.
As he attacked you with his blade, you prepared to hold back the most powerful of his blows so far – making your arm immediately fly back with the violence of the impact; having you grip your sword for dear life as not to have it escape your hands and leave you helpless. Your eyes left his blade for a moment, quickly passing through his face – making you question if his teeth were elongated like fangs.
An amateur mistake, if you had to be honest with yourself, taking your eyes away from what really mattered: his weapons, his feet, his hands. You didn’t see his other hand coming for a quick, double-hit, follow up attack: holding the sheathe of the Yamato, he hit you with all his might on your torso; almost as if you were kicked by a horse.
The air on your lungs was violently ripped out, escaping your throat as you flew back in the air. The pain made it hard to breathe and you did your best to land on the floor with a little bit of dignity, sliding only on your feet and knees, breaking your fall with one of your hands while still holding tightly to your sword.
You needed some time to be able to take a deep breath – pain ebbing through your lungs as you felt the place in your torso that was hit by the sheathe of the sword reverberating in waves; in your muscles and through your insides.
Looking back at him, you could barely pick up a glance of a quick, conceited laugh – mirroring exactly what you had done moments before – only to be caught unguarded as the demon charged towards you in a blow that would be decisive; certainly ending with your defeat.
It was your turn to burn with outrage – after all, he knew you wouldn’t give up that easily; and it was quite bold of him to assume that fight would end there. In a matter of fact, it wasn’t bold, it was an act of arrogance.
You did tell him to do his worst.
You got yourself back on your feet, holding the hilt of your sword with one hand and the blade with the other, horizontally, right in front of yourself – and catching the piercing final blow Vergil had prepared with the Yamato.
Beautifully calculated, he had to give that to you. A precision he would expect only from his kin, sharing his demonic blood – which could be considered a feat for a human like you.
Pushing him back, you quickly plunged in for another attack, giving him little time to think – that could be an advantage, since he always seemed so focused and calculating. Vergil picked up your new strategy as fast as you picked his prior ones, defending your swift attacks and chaining his own counter-attacks whenever he could expertly fit them.
You did pay attention to his hands, though. After the double attack with the sheathe of his sword, you made sure you wouldn’t fall for that again – and you wanted him to not have that advantage anymore. Both of you were fighting with the same rage bubbling on your insides, and neither wanted to be the one to suffer the next hit.
Still paying attention to his hands, you noticed when he loosened his grip on the hilt of his sword just enough to have it swiftly moving in his hands in order to perfectly chain his attacks and leave you little room for breathing.
And so, you waited for the perfect moment. As soon as you attacked – with the intention of having him easily defend, Vergil answered with a counter-attack, giving you the opportunity you were looking for. The moment he slightly loosened his grip, you exerted yourself, pulling all your strength to swing your sword again a lot faster than you did before, to hit his blade with all your might and disarm your enemy.
Furrowing his brows, Vergil immediately noticed what you were doing and tried to change his move right in the middle of it – a gamble, and one he didn’t like to make: you fooled him into believing he knew your next steps and, once again, bet on the unexpected.
He was too used to battling his brother, though.
Tightening the grip and trying to change in a split second to a defensive stance, Vergil couldn’t do much other than try to put some more strength into his attack in order to disarm you – having your move backfire and leaving you unarmed.
As your blades clashed with a loud thunder, both of you quickly closed your eyes for a second as sparks exploded from the impact – and your arms recoiled from the ferocity of the blow; both Yamato and your silver sword spiraling in the skies, far away from your grips that couldn’t hold them down.
Quickly opening your eyes, you saw as your silver sword landed far away behind him; and Vergil witnessed as Yamato fell in the distance behind you.
Staring at each other, for the first time, you could read the same level of surprise in your eyes – almost as if both of you needed a second to process what had just happened.
The spark that made Vergil awaken from his moment of astonishment was one that fueled the indignation of realizing he was disarmed by a simple human, you for that matter, once again, even after all he had done for power; and you could say the same: a certain burn of anger made your jaw tighten upon noticing it was that demon who had disarmed you – something that shouldn’t have happened again.
To say both of your prides were bubbling inside your chests, fueling your viciousness and thirst for battle, was an understatement.
In spite of that, you weren’t keen on giving him an opening to take advantage of the now obvious power imbalance between you two – something he should do; and something demons always did.
For a second, you thanked Dante for gifting your silver pistol, so many moons ago. You thought you wouldn’t really have a use for it, but now, holding the once blue coated demon at gunpoint, you couldn’t be happier you were wrong.
“Bringing a gun to a sword fight. Tsk.” Vergil’s voice was dripping with contempt, trying to hide how you stirred even more of his outrage by resorting to shooting him. Just like his twin brother.
“It’s a guarantee.” Your answer was as sharp as the blade of your sword, forcing Vergil to look back into your eyes. “The likes of you don’t tend to play fair. I don’t see why I should.”
“Don’t compare me to scum.” His answer was almost a growl – and you could clearly see you hit a nerve. It made you wonder why, though, he wouldn’t like to be compared to other demons; after all, he was one. And a rather proud one, at that. “I am…” Quickly, though, he managed to at least bury that anger and go back to his usual voice tone – albeit with a hint of mocking, faintly seen as well on the corner of his lips. “Surprised you think so low of me.”
You furrowed your brows, resting a dry gaze on that demon. He wasn’t like other demons you had known through your life, and he knew that. You wouldn’t put so much effort into fighting him if you thought he was like the others you killed almost on a daily basis.
“Humpf.” You looked down to your pistol, almost shrugging in the process. That made Vergil watch you with intent – reading what was going to be your next move. Given his speed, he could probably dodge your bullets easily and you would only waste ammo. “This probably won’t be efficient in causing you damage anyway.”
Vergil couldn’t help but to slightly raise his brows as you tossed the pistol aside, completely disarming yourself. He could only make it fair and avoid using his summoned swords.
Barely giving him time to think his next attack, you resorted to the same thing you did when you both first fought the Hell Puppeteer: taking an offensive stance, you were now a lot more proficient in your martial arts training to land a perfect kick on his head – and you could bet he would never see it coming.
Unfortunately, Vergil was also having memories from that day: when you fought perfectly well together, bringing down an extinct demon from the depths of the Abyss, only to disarm each other as soon as the creature was no more.
And only to resort to fighting without your weapons.
He quickly deflected your attack, opting for a defensive stance during a few more attacks: Vergil wanted to know how much you had trained throughout those years and if you would be able to keep up with his pace without your sword – and he could only do that by observing.
You didn’t disappoint; and you knew quite well what he was doing. Almost as if to prove a point, you chained a set of moves with speed and carefully practiced technique.
Vergil was able to block all of them with the same swiftness, a warm wave spreading over his chest as he carried a faint smile on the corner of his lips. It was rather satisfying to see you had improved enough to still give him a good fight and to be considered a worthy opponent.
That ghost of a smile disappeared, though, when your hand scraped his right cheekbone, since he wasn’t so quick in dodging that attack. His predator gaze was back as he turned those silver eyes back to you – and it was almost as if that semblance of a smile transferred from his lips to yours.
But he wouldn’t let you carry it for long.
Switching from his defensive position to offensive, Vergil immediately counter-attacked with a kick; having you quickly change the balance on your legs so you could do your best to block his attack – leaving you with a sore calf. Just like before, Vergil wasn’t really holding back on his strength, knowing you could quite well take the fight and all its consequences.
His attacks were as swift as yours, testing how attuned your reflexes were and how much you could focus on that fight and on his movements without losing the awareness of your surroundings. Every kick, every punch, every move from his fists and his feet were matched by yours – and now, more than ever, it looked like you were both entangled in a dance of death, perfectly in sync.
He had to admit… It was a delight. One he didn’t know he missed after so many years of torture and survival.
And for a moment, Vergil’s movements faltered. For a split of a second you could see his eyebrows furrowing further and the expression of borderline enjoyment cracking from his face – almost as if something was slipping through the cracks of his own self he put on with so much pride.
What if all this was a dream…? One created by his own mind to help him remain… Endure. One elaborate almost reality, when his body was hurt to the point he couldn’t even feel his limbs anymore, when his pride had been violated and paraded for humiliation to the point he couldn’t open his eyes without weeping, when his hope was torn apart into pieces and tossed away along with his heart, to the point he forgot who he even was… Sometimes, it all felt like a dream.
As he faltered, his survival took over enough not to let him fall – and a faint breeze was enough to bring him back to the fight at hand; the slight coldness of the wind on his face, his feet balancing himself on the uneven pavement, the scent of flowers.
Vergil’s silvery eyes looked back to your face as his body kept on expertly answering to all your attacks; survival being the most automatic of instincts for him. But that was when he noticed his teeth taking the shape of fangs and his nails already elongated, almost like claws, which had managed to draw blood from one of your hands while you used them to defend yourself from one of his attacks.
Just like Eva. Human blood had a natural scent that could be compared to flowers; Vergil had arrived to that conclusion ever since he was a child. Eva was as the flowers in her garden, while demons reeked of the most vile of odors.
He hadn’t smelled that scent in years. So much so, that Vergil had forgotten how it was like.
In Hell, he had already grown accustomed to that smell of rot, blood and acre vinegar that permeated not only the place but its residents. For years, Vergil didn’t know what anything else smelled like, having known only that stench of death and decay – needless to say, being back in the human world was quite literally a breath of fresh air.
But your blood… That was a memory. Long forgotten, that he didn’t even know his mind still kept in a hidden place, buried deep inside with all the other things he had to smother to be able to survive. The memory was back, along with the scent of flowers… And that, no dream could recreate – and no demon could simulate in order to torture him even further with a false hope.
Only a human could carry those flowers.
With that, you managed to hit Vergil’s face, having him stumble back a little bit. The demon immediately furrowed his brows, this time in confusion, only to slowly take his thumb up to his mouth and run it over his lower lip – finding he did wipe some blood that you managed to draw from him.
“We’re even.” You slightly waved your bleeding hand as soon as that predator gaze went from his blood to your form – still, you had an almost nonchalant air to your words.
“Hmmm.” And, to your surprise, you could even call that a giggle, as Vergil fixed his posture and ignored the blood on his hands, in order to swipe back the strands of hair that were already falling over his face.
Something about that made your blood boil. As if, so far, he hadn’t put that much effort in your fight – arrogantly fixing his hair even if you had just managed to make him bleed.
You would never entertain the possibility that you had mistaken his amusement for arrogance.
Without thinking twice, you would make sure his hair would come down for good: placing a swift kick to his torso, Vergil lost his balance for a split second and that was enough for you to knock him down; and that took him by surprise.
You used all your weight to wrap your arms around his waist and bring him down with you – and, when Vergil finally understood what happened, he was already on the floor; with you on top of him, holding him down with your legs and ready to hit him with a series of swift punches.
You had Nero to thank for teaching you that move.
More dumbfounded than Vergil, that would be Dante. He had barely reached the street to catch up to his brother, after helping the crew contain a few more demons, only to find you grabbing Vergil wrestling-style and pinning him down on the floor; straddling him right after and ready to punch Vergil until he couldn’t contain his anger anymore.
“What the…” Dante had to stop in his tracks and watch that scene unfolding right before his eyes – and he couldn’t help but remember the first time he met Nero in Fortuna. How the kid pinned him down on the floor the same way and almost made him trigger with how much he relentlessly punched Dante.
Vergil didn’t allow you to land a single punch, though; immediately holding your arms as soon as he noticed your intentions – and as soon as he managed to wake up from his sudden stupor of surprise. Using more of his demonic strength, Vergil tossed you aside as if you didn’t weight more than a bag of candies.
It was the first time he used that kind of strength on you – and the first time you could have an idea of how much he was holding back in order not to cause you any serious injuries. As you slid on the pavement by his side, it suddenly hit you how that demon could have ended you with the flick of a finger if he didn’t have any warrior’s honor.
His shadow towering over you made you snap out of that thought – realizing he had all intention to pin you down as you did with him seconds prior; and, given his strength, you wouldn’t be able to escape his grip even if you fought with all your might. Kicking his torso once again to create some distance, you quickly brought yourself back to your feet; even if you stumbled a little.
You couldn’t win on a fistfight, he had just made that very clear. All this time, it was as if he was indulging you; which only made you grit your teeth. Just when you thought that demon couldn’t get anymore insufferable.
Vergil could read in your eyes that realization of yours, and if he was any good at reading your next steps, the next thing you would do was reach for your silver pistol near your feet.
But of course, you would never do what he expected of you.
Bullets against that demon would be a waste, you still knew that. The best course of action wasn’t to reach for your gun, but for a sword – after all, that seemed to be the only thing that could take him down.
The only problem was that Vergil was still standing between you and your silver sword… So, you swiftly reached for the sword nearby; the one quietly awaiting behind you, watching that dance of death you two seemed to enjoy having engaged in.
And when he realized what you were doing, Vergil widened his eyes and furrowed his brows; that being the last thing he would have expected of you.
Having your fingers around its hilt, you felt the weight of the Yamato for the first time. It was light for its size, but still heavy for a sword of that type – you couldn’t have expected less, since, from what you had observed, it was longer than a traditional sword.
It was just about the size of your silver sword, though, making you only feel slightly strange about the shape and balance. You didn’t grab the sheathe and opted for holding the hilt with both of your hands, since you were used to fighting only with your blade and not a dual wield.
“Huh.” Vergil immediately turned around, scoffing as he made it very obvious he was giving you his back – an act of arrogance, showing you weren’t that much of a threat to him. It was also to avoid having you meet the look of pure offense and anger in his eyes, now that you had Yamato in your hands because he had lost its grip. Again.
As you fixed your posture, already going into a fighting stance, Vergil walked over to your silver sword – and you couldn’t help but to feel your chest tightening. It was your sword, made-to-order by the Guard to be perfect only to your hands, and no one else aside from you had wielded it – not even Dante.
And there he was. That once blue coated demon, taking your sword in his hands; his fingers wrapping around the hilt and lifting it as if it was made of silk.
You wondered for a second if he had felt the same outrage when you lifted his sword from the floor.
Vergil did find the weight of your blade quite strange – lighter, so that a human like you could easily handle it, but no less deadlier than other swords. It was sharp and well cared for, embellished with a few golden motifs that reminded him of water. It was more than just a well cared for sword, and your appreciation for it showed.
Turning back around, Vergil found you ready to fight, gazing intently at the sword in his hands – and something inside him was strangely thankful you were as annoyed as he was to have your sword being held, and about to be wielded, by your archenemy.
“Oh, that’s not good…” Dante shook his head, watching as if you two were about to rip each other to pieces. “Time to put ‘em on time out.”
“Still want me to do my worst…?” Vergil’s taunt came with a faint smile teasing on the corner of his lips, predator eyes ready to pierce through you.
If you couldn’t control your feelings so expertly, you would have charged in to strip that smile away from him with your bare fists.
“Hmmm.” Although, you couldn’t help but smile back, mirroring his stare and immediately releasing that rage in your heart to charge in. Vergil didn’t take even a second to do the same.
“Oh, c’mon, Vergil…” Dante rolled his eyes, instantly running towards you both as soon as you charged towards each other.
He did wonder, though, if Vergil would ever give him a break.
Dante & Vergil with an s/o who doesn't enjoy their birthday
Pairings: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader
Summary: Unspoken rule of the Devil May Cry: no one talks about your birthday. You’ve always been very adamant on disliking celebrations and wanting to treat it as just a normal, uneventful day. And your lover respects that… To some degree. After all, he just wants you to be happy.
Author’s notes: Yours truly birthday is coming up and, as you can guess, I don’t like it – for a myriad of personal reasons. If you’re anything like me 1 – I’m so sorry and I wished you could enjoy it better and 2 – I hope this can at least bring you something nice in that time 🖤
DISCLAIMER: The Vergil one gets very emotional and a little heavy. Also, there’s a whole thing of him giving his s/o a little bracelet with his name on it: I now realized some people might read it as a toxic/marking kind of thing, but it ISN’T. My parents had a very old people custom of giving their baby a gold bracelet with the baby’s name engraved on it. I still have mine, as my sister has hers, and I thought it’d be right up Sparda and Eva’s alley to do something like that. I wanted Vergil to give his s/o something special; and if it was me, I would give my partner my bracelet with my name I got when I was born. Not a property thing, but as a piece of something so intimate to me. Sappy, I know.
Dante
If Dante knew you well, he was certain you would drown yourself in work until you passed out on the shop’s couch as soon as you crossed the heavy Devil May Cry doors.
It had been a very long time Dante didn’t celebrate his birthday – but, once, he did tell you when he was born, and you quietly appeared with enough so just the two of you could celebrate.
“Guess what I got for us tonight…?” You had a satisfied smile on your face, as you placed two boxes of pizza on the desk while Dante curiously watched you from his chair.
“Pizza, from the likes of it…!” He giggled, taking his feet of the desk and leaning on it – as you did the same, your face close to his. And that beautiful, smart, devilish and loving smile on your lips. Dante could kiss them to oblivion.
“A very special kind of pizza. C’mon, cowboy, humor me.” You tilted your head, playing a little with his strands of hair. Dante smiled but he did furrow his brows a bit – now that his hair was a little longer, you took a liking to playing with his locks; but only when you were in flirty mode.
And that was a little rare.
“Special, huh? Let’s see ‘bout that…”
Opening the pizza box, Dante found a pizza packed with chocolate and sprinkles of the same kind, covered in sliced strawberries and having some of them spell ‘Happy Birthday, Dante”, with a little happy face on the side.
You wished you could keep his shocked expression etched in your mind forever. The way he raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth, completely at loss of words – which was quite rare for him – made your heart soar and a bright smile shine on your lips.
“You did this for me, babe…? C’mon, you shouldn’t have…”
And you could swear those were tears marinating in his sky-blue eyes.
“I should, and I will. Every year, til the end of time.” You giggled, leaning even further on the desk so you could grab his dumbfounded face and place a passionate kiss on those beautiful lips. “Happy birthday, Dante. I love you, big guy.”
“Well, I love you too, babe. This…” And he looked down at the pizza again, with that happy little strawberry face smiling at him. “This is nice. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. You’re stuck with this forever now.”
And Dante really hoped he was.
He knew very well why you didn’t take a liking to your own birthday, and, honestly, the first time he heard about it… Well, to say it was one of the things that fueled his Devil Trigger every time he remembered it, was an understatement.
Dante just crossed his arms and listened to it seriously, as he always did, and gave it the solemn treatment it deserved, but his heart boiled. If he could argue with every single person in the world that made you dislike the day you were supposed to celebrate your own life, he would; but, unfortunately, he couldn’t.
Whenever he complained about it, though, you pointed out his own disdain for his birthday – and he always said it was different. The irony wasn’t lost in you, but, perhaps, you really deserved each other in all aspects of life – even that one.
Dante sighed while reading the brownie powder cake mix packet, leaning on the kitchen counter. It had been a week you’ve been telling him you wanted to do your brownie recipe – which was, in fact, just a brownie cake mix you added your own spin to – but everything had been so hectic you didn’t have the time to work on it.
Given it was your birthday, Dante was now on a mission to prepare your brownies, that you wanted so bad to eat but couldn’t prepare yet.
“Hey, Dante? Got your call, I’m here…!” Nero’s voice echoed from the shop, as the kid quickly came in through the front door. “Lady’s helpin’ y/n with the job and… Where the hell are you…?”
“Back here, kid…!” Dante screamed back, hearing Nero immediately approaching with his heavy combat boots.
“Lost somethin’ in there…?” Nero’s head came through the door, one eyebrow raised. “You’re really not the kitchen type, ya know.”
“Hey, we all have our moments.” Dante shrugged, smiling back at his nephew. Nero furrowed his brows, fully entering the kitchen.
“So. Nico took Lady and y/n to work, like you asked.” The kid crossed his arms, curiously eyeing the package in Dante’s hands. “You said you needed my help? What’s up?”
“Bet’cha know how to make one of these.” And Dante threw the cake mix over to Nero, who caught it immediately. And furrowed his brows even further upon reading what it was. “Must’ve watched your girl doin’ it, right?”
“Kyrie doesn’t really use cake mixes… She likes doin’ everythin’ from scratch, ya know? Says it tastes better.” Nero raised his aquamarine eyes from the packet to Dante – who was still leaning on the kitchen counter, with his arms crossed. And Nero was completely lost on what was going on. “Wait. Lemme get this straight. You called me here to help you… With a cake mix?”
“It’s y/n’s birthday. I wanna make ‘em somethin’ special.” Dante now had a gentle smile on his lips as it seemed like Nero had a whole bucket of water dropped on him – and his eyes carried shock alongside horror.
“Y/n’s… Birthday?! I didn’t know that!! I didn’t even…!”
“Ei, chill out, kid. Y/n doesn’t like talkin’ ‘bout it, I’m the only one who knows.” Dante sighed, taking the cake mix from his nephew and putting it back on the kitchen counter, trying to at least start doing something. “I figured I could trust you with that.”
“Oh. Oh. Yeah, well… Yeah. You can trust me, just…” And Nero was the pure representation of confusion. As his uncle walked around the kitchen gathering the ingredients, he tried to make sense of what was going on. “I, hmmm. Y/n’s pretty private ‘bout some things, huh…?”
“They sure are, kid.”
Dante didn’t even look back to answer Nero, making him know that was as far as he would go into that subject – it also made him know you must have had a pretty good reason to avoid it so much. And that stung Nero’s heart.
“Hmmm… Says here ya need a bakin’ tray. Where can I find one of those…?”
“Under the sink. I dunno which one y/n uses.” Dante pointed at a small cabinet, to which Nero immediately walked over too.
“Don’t worry, Kyrie told me some stuff ‘bout bakin’ trays. You gotta know how to choose the size…!”
Dante couldn’t help but smile, watching his nephew promptly helping without even asking more about it. Nero understood, as Dante knew he would. After all, he had something different than everyone at the Order of the Sword, something Dante sensed years ago just by watching him from afar – and it wasn’t the blood of Sparda they shared.
Nero did inherit his power from Vergil – but he got his heart from Eva.
*
It had been a long day.
You could feel every single muscle in your body starting to complain – and you knew it was just a matter of time before you started feeling the aftermath of that day’s job.
Still, it wasn’t that bad. You could at least take your mind off things and keep yourself busy, without sulking in self-pity or just sitting around, staring at the wall, waiting for the day to be over.
You did need a shower, though.
Suddenly, the peace and quiet of the Devil May Cry at the beginning of the evening was disrupted by the sound of, well, everything violently clashing in the kitchen.
You immediately took your hand to one of your guns, ready to shoot.
“I told you not to leave it there, kid…!”
“Well, your bossin’ around ain’t helpin’!”
That was… Nero? And Dante? Arguing in the kitchen…? You narrowed your eyes, putting your gun away. Whatever the hell those two were doing, you were certain the kitchen would be looking like the aftermath of a battlefield.
“Hmmm… Dante? Nero? Everything alright in there…?” You asked as you approached with caution.
After all, the only reason you could think of for those two being in the kitchen was demons. And kitchen demons were a very annoying kind.
“Y/n…!” You heard both of them almost screaming at the same time, and a cacophony of noises – as if they were trying to get everything back in place before you could get there.
“Don’t come in! Everythin’ is fine, babe!” And that was Dante, with a nervous laugh, forcing his laid-back everyday tone – but you knew him quite well to know everything was not fine.
“You don’t need to come here…! We got everythin’ under control!!” And Nero followed, as bad as his uncle in pretending you shouldn’t be worried.
You and Kyrie constantly talked about how similar they were in that aspect.
“Are we having a kitchen demon infestation…? Because if we are, I swear…” You sighed, already dreading the nightmare that would be to get those creatures out of there.
“No demonic infestations, of that you can be sure!” And Nero almost jumped out of the kitchen – you even had suspicions Dante pushed him out while locking himself in. The kid in front of you had a big smile on his face, not wearing his coat and…
“Is that choco…?”
Before you could finish speaking, though, he took you in a tight hug, lifting you from the floor as he did so. You couldn’t help but yelp and hold him tightly back, with your feet dangling from side to side as Nero gently swayed you.
“Hmmm, are you ok? Do you have a fever…? Is that how half-demons react when they’re sick?” Of course, you couldn’t refrain from teasing him a little bit. Nero was one to be honest about his feelings, but not so upfront like that.
Although, he was a hugger, just like Dante. You just had to unlock that level of intimacy and trust with him.
“Ei, I’m just happy to see you! Can’t hug my fave devil hunter anymore?” Nero swayed you a little more until placing you back on the floor – that proud smile still on his lips.
“Oh, I’m your favorite now?” You laughed back, making him giggle a little bit with that slightly embarrassed demeanor he always got when he was afraid of having been a little too much. “You just gave me material to tease everyone in the shop for eternity now, kid. They will never have a single day of peace after today.”
“Well, what can I say. You are the most competent out of the bunch in here.”
“Ya know, I can hear ya, kid…!” And once again you heard Dante’s voice from the kitchen, having your attention back to that.
“So, what’s going on? You two were locked in there and there’s some chocolate in your face, kid.” You finally pointed out, making him immediately search for it to rub it out.
So far, they were doing a very poor job at lowering your suspicions.
“Is the kitchen ok…?”
“Fine. You don’t have to worry, c’mon…!” Nero physically turned you around, gently pushing you away from the kitchen.
“But…”
“Ya know, you’re kinda needing a shower.”
“Are you calling me stinky, kid…?!” You couldn’t help but to try to turn around and argue. Now he managed to divert your attention – and Nero had to laugh about it.
“I mean, you’re covered in demon blood…”
“You guys always come back worse! You…!”
“Hey, it’s just like you always tell me…” And now, he had the same playful voice he used with the children whenever he was teasing them to get them to do something. “A shower doesn’t hurt…!”
“Oh, you’re the worst…!” You had to roll your eyes – but you also had to smile upon hearing Nero laughing behind you. When you got to the foot of the stairs, you turned around; going up one step to at least be a little taller next to him. “I am going to take a shower, but only because I need to. When I come back, you guys better tell me what in the hell is going on.”
“Don’t’cha worry ‘bout it, y/n. We will.” He winked back at you, watching dutifully as you went upstairs to make sure you wouldn’t come back as soon as he turned his back. “Stinky hunter…!”
“Oh, get outta here…!” You rolled your eyes, hearing as Nero laughed on his way back to the kitchen.
You did smile, though. It was nice having him around.
*
“Oh, hey there, cowboy. Finally decided to leave your mystery kitchen to say hi to me?”
As you went down the last steps of the stairs, still drying your hair with the towel, you finally saw Dante – putting away a few things in that mess of a side table near the couch, so he could fit better something that looked like a baking tray.
You did smell sugary treats, but something inside you kept telling it was nothing but your delirious mind making up a few things.
“Well, now that you got me here, you’ll have my undivided attention, babe…!” Dante opened his arms, flashing one of those rather convinced smiles he always did when you said something that indicated how much you liked being around him.
“Oh, what a joy.” You had all the intention to make it sound as a chore, joking around as you always would, but the smile on your face denounced how much you really liked to be with Dante.
As soon as you reached him, you threw the towel on the couch and pulled him for a rather long kiss. He expected you to kiss him, yes, but not for that long – almost as if you wanted to forget time was a concept and just enjoy his company.
Dante’s heart would always melt when realizing that.
“Please tell me we don’t have an infestation in the kitchen.” You had your eyes closed, whispering those words while barely separating from Dante’s lips; so much he could still feel them brushing on his, your hot breath warming his own.
“No infestation. That, I promise.” Dante’s voice was a little lower, with a giggle in his tone, while his hands rested on your hips and mindlessly caressed you.
You had an infestation once. Your fears were very much valid.
“So…” You sighed, finally opening your eyes and leaning back a little bit – sill in his arms, now taking your time to look into those wonderful sky-blue eyes you loved so much. And Dante loved how you liked brushing his rogue strands of hair away from them so you could gaze at him better. “What gives?”
“Got somethin’ for ya.” Dante placed another quick kiss on your lips, letting you go as he walked over to the bar and leaned on it, nodding at the table he was organizing as you arrived. “Kid had to go back home, but he also left his regards.”
When you looked down on the table, you found your old and battered baking tray with a perfectly good batch of brownies. They weren’t cut in squares, though, because on top of it, there were a bunch of mini-marshmallows spelling “happy birthday, y/n” with a smiley face underneath it.
A little wonky and somewhat melted and charred, but still.
You furrowed your brows as a smile colored your lips – and Dante himself had to mirror your smile as he saw your eyes fill up with tears; even if you would deny it to death if he pointed it out. All the time, he watched you; how you seemed so taken aback and emotional over a, quite frankly, very underwhelming batch of brownies.
“Mini-marshmallows were Nero’s idea. I swear that kid has so much of Vergil in him.” Dante still had his arms crossed, casually leaning on the bar, as if it was just another day in the shop. As you raised your glossy eyes to him, he opened a bright smile – one you loved seeing in him. “Happy birthday, babe.”
You smiled, placing your hands on your hips and shaking your head, while closing your eyes as you did so – or else, your tears would go down your face, even if you didn’t want them to. Dante couldn’t help but admire your reaction, always so glad he could make you smile like that.
“You didn’t have to…”
“I wanted to.” As he answered, you looked back at him again; finding Dante approaching you again – now with his usual laid-back demeanor of always. “Plus, it isn’t the nicest brownies around…”
“It’s the nicest thing someone has done for me in a while, big guy.” You immediately held one of his hands, pulling him back to yourself before Dante could start downplaying his own actions. “Thank you. Really.”
“No need to thank me, babe. I’ll do it a thousand times if I have to.”
“You do know what that means, right…?” You placed both of your hands on his face, pulling Dante for another kiss. He would never complain about it – kissing you like that, was one of the very few things Dante would never deny in his life. “Nero knows too much now. I’ll have to kill him.”
Dante closed his eyes and broke in a good laugh while lowering his head, your hands still cradling his face. He expected everything but that.
“C’mon, the kid did a good job. He can keep a secret.” As he looked back at you and raised his head, Dante was still trying to stop laughing. He would never get tired of you – and your sense of humor.
“Hmmm. Same secret of what the hell you both did to the kitchen…?”
“Yeah, ‘bout that. You don’t wanna go in there, ‘k?” Dante raised one eyebrow, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and starting to walk with you towards the couch. “Kid’s gonna help me with that durin’ the week. We have more important business to attend to now.”
“Such as…?” And you did sit down as Dante signaled you to do so, such an uncharacteristic compliant act from your part. He did take note of that.
“I got us some movies and the brownies for the night. Enough to stay up ‘til the sun comes out again, if you wanna.” Dante winked at you, grabbing the baking tray and offering it to you – along with two forks. “Startin’ out with Zorro.”
“Oh, so it’s Zorro night eating brownies with mini-marshmallows straight out of the pan while cuddling with you in the couch…?” As you asked, already holding the tray, you watched as Dante put on the movie on that old TV Morrison was always fixing every now and then. As your red devil turned around, already looking like he was going to tell you it was all he had to offer, you put the tray aside and took one of his hands, pulling him to the couch. “I’m starting to think I’ve done something pretty good in my life to have all of this right now. It sounds perfect, cowboy.”
“Well… I’m glad you think so, sheriff.”
And that was, indeed, how you both spent the night – the brownies, even if a little charred on the edges, were exactly how you liked them; and the movies, were the ones you always enjoyed watching. As the hours passed, and so did your time spent together, sleep quietly found you both – and none of you wanted to leave the couch, as you slept in Dante’s arms.
He did wake up after a few minutes in slumber, thinking it would be better to carry you to the room since the bed was decidedly more comfortable than staying there. But, as soon as Dante looked down at you, he didn’t have the heart to wake you up – you had your head leaning on his chest, eyebrows relaxed and a faint, chocolate-smudged smile on your lips. When he moved a little, you wrapped your arms a little tighter around him, your head instinctively moving to the place in his chest over his heart – and Dante remembered when you told him once, a little drifting into sleep, how much you enjoyed listening to his heartbeat.
And so, he closed his eyes once more, wrapping his arms a little tighter around you. Dante failed to see, though, how your smile appeared to brighten up as he did so – and he also wouldn’t know how much you appreciated your birthday this time.
Vergil
The last time Vergil had celebrated his birthday, he was a child.
Well, that was, before being with you. After spending so much time in his own path for power, he almost forgot what a birthday was – or, at least, that was what he wanted to do. Vergil wanted to erase that memory just like all other beautiful ones that could make that little light of humanity survive in his heart.
Of course, it was a weakness, as he always thought – and it was used by Mundus in his myriad of tortures. Those memories of beautiful days alongside his father, his mother and his brother; with chocolate cakes and a couple of presents; with smiles, gentle touches, warm hugs and little fun competitions with his twin. Vergil did want to have a day just for himself, but, whenever he celebrated with Dante… He couldn’t help but think it would be so alien not to have someone to share that joy with.
Locked down in Hell, completely alone, wishing for Death to take him away from that suffering, Vergil didn’t know what that joy was anymore. The memory of it ever happening only made it more painful; and, after a while, unbearable.
You didn’t push him when he mentioned not celebrating his birthday. You were only curious about the date, but as soon as Vergil mentioned how unimportant it was to him, you didn’t argue.
It was only one day, when he found a fancy chocolate muffin on his belongings, inside a little see-through box wrapped around with a beautiful blue ribbon, that Vergil remembered. When he took the little box between his fingers, he also noticed a new book – antique, a little frayed at the edges, with a heavy fabric cover and golden, worn-out letters and filigrees embellishing the tome. Opening it, there was his name written in fancy lettering, with a little message underneath “happy birthday, my love”, crowned with a small heart at the end.
Vergil took a deep breath, the book still in his hands.
It was quiet. Thoughtful. Intimate. At this point in his life he despised everything that was too loud or drew too much attention to himself – Vergil wanted peace and quiet, and time for his own thoughts. The fact you managed to respect that and still show him how much you cared…
He took a sharp breath as he closed the book. An original first edition of an old tome, which must have taken a long time to find and cost even more. He furrowed his brows even further, trying to understand the violent stirring inside his chest.
It was kind. So kind. A manner of kindness he did not deserve.
And you always seemed to remember how much he loved chocolate.
Taking the muffin in one hand and the book with the other alongside Yamato, Vergil walked out of the room on a mission to find you – his brows still deeply furrowed as he scanned the whole place in his search.
It didn’t take long for him to find you on one of the places you’d always be whenever you were both on a break: by the window, sitting on a stool while painting one of the beautiful landscapes you had found on a book or a magazine, wanting to try your hand at the colors and shapes.
As if nothing was happening and there was nothing of special on that day.
“Oh, love, do come over and help me here a bit, please…” You barely looked at him, having your attention on your painting. Nothing out of the ordinary: Vergil had good eyes and a keen sense for beauty, so you would constantly ask him for opinions on your work.
When you extended him your free hand, while still looking at the canvas, Vergil put aside the muffin on the side table with your painting supplies, promptly holding the hand you were offering. And, as soon as you realized how tightly he was holding, you immediately turned around – knowing it was Vergil’s way of saying he needed to talk to you.
And you were promptly met with a kiss. A deep, passionate kiss, taking longer than you would ever have expected.
Not that you were expecting. In a fact, it was one of the rare moments Vergil caught you completely by surprise.
“Everything ok…?” You whispered as soon as he broke the kiss, resting his forehead on yours; his hot breath still rhythmically brushing your lips.
“Thank you.”
You only smiled, having your eyes closed as well as he. You knew Vergil wouldn’t say much more than that, at least not in that moment, but it was enough; considering how hard it was for him.
He spent quite a while with his forehead leaning on yours that day, and you didn’t brush him away. You never deemed Vergil too much, or too dramatic, or too emotional; whenever something like that happened, you only accepted him with open arms and few words, until he himself was ready to do more about his feelings.
It was quite understandable, then, for him to be so vexed when you told him you didn’t want anything to be done in your birthday. Vergil listened quietly and only what you were comfortable enough to tell him; and he didn’t make a fuss about it – something you would always be very thankful about your lover.
But it did bother him. To think a creature like yourself, who always thought of others and did your best to show them how much they were wanted, how much they were loved, didn’t want the same kindness extended to yourself was… Unfair.
And unfairness was always something that bothered Vergil’s heart, as much as he wanted to pretend he didn’t have one.
Apparently, you also wanted to pretend your heart didn’t exist… That you didn’t care. But Vergil knew quite well how much avoidance came from feeling too much, caring too much. From wanting to shut everything good down because expecting and not receiving was much worse than cutting every wish right at the bud, never allowing it to blossom.
With you… He did allow some flowers to blossom for the first time; tending to the small, quiet and rather secret little garden he had in himself, with some fear to have those flowers violently maimed and destroyed as before; but this time knowing there was a little more safety for them to grow… And someone like you to help protect and care for them.
Vergil wanted to extend to you the same grace.
And that was why he found himself standing in what was left of his childhood home once more, after so many years.
*
As Vergil’s steps went through the debris of the entrance, its echoes rippled in his mind like the memories of what he had done to win… To survive.
At that point in his life, defeating Dante wasn’t just to end a feud, it was for himself. So Vergil wouldn’t have to look back at all the things he had done and admit that, after all the time, he had been wrong and power wasn’t the only thing he needed. That Dante, even not as powerful as him, would always win, no matter what.
That Dante, who didn’t sacrifice everything like Vergil did, would always win because of his heart.
When he was dying, when he was fading, writhing in that never-ending suffering that burned his heart just like that fateful night, all Vergil wanted was to survive… To win. To tell himself he did the only thing he could have done and that power was the only thing that could have kept him safe. That someone was to blame for all that pain, that Dante was to blame.
And he was so blind. If he wanted, he could have had a very different life, but he couldn’t see. He chose not to see.
“There was nothing you could’ve done differently, after everything that was done to you. You were just a child and you did your best with what you had at the moment.”
Vergil had to close his eyes, a ghostly smile gracing his lips as he stood in the living room, before his family’s blighted portrait – as he did years prior. Whenever his thoughts started spiraling out of control, constantly blaming him in that endless parade of self-flagellation, your voice always echoed in his mind; a glimmer of light to pull him out of all that darkness.
“You have to learn to forgive yourself for not knowing how to properly handle what happened to you.”
As Vergil opened his eyes again, he rested his silvery gaze on his father and his mother. Would they be able to forgive him, if they knew…? He was there, after all, and that was what really mattered – alive, breathing, trying to live a new life after… Everything. He knew his father would see things from that more practical approach, so to speak, but his mother… Would Eva ever forgive him? Would her human heart have room for empathy for his actions…?
Vergil frowned after a couple of seconds watching her painted face; after all, his mind was playing tricks on him and he could swear he saw her gently smiling.
*
He didn’t expect much to have survived the fire. There was little left from what once was his home, but he did have a very faint light of hope in his heart that he could find what he was looking for.
Upstairs, it was a lot more difficult to walk than on the first floor; precisely because one never knew if the structure could hold some weight. Vergil walked slowly, with precise steps, always hearing for some creaking or rumbling that could indicate the floor was about to give out.
The fall wouldn’t kill him, but… He didn’t want the structure to fade away. A stupid little dying wish from his silly human heart, yes, but he didn’t want his childhood home to be completely lost to memory. There was a sense that, with it being there, everything did happen: he did have a family, he did have a home, he did have a happy life; even if it didn’t last too long. If that house crumbled…
Vergil understood quite well why you always enjoyed Blade Runner so much – and why you always cried when you heard everything would be lost, like tears in the rain. He didn’t want his home to crumble. He didn’t want his life, his history, his family to become tears in the rain… At least, not for the moment. His heart wasn’t ready for that yet.
After a careful walk down that silent corridor, Vergil spotted the door he was looking for: his bedroom.
To be honest, it barely had a door anymore. He gently pushed the piece of charred wood that was left on the broken hinges, as a horrible creaking slowly dragged it open – luckily, it didn’t crumble away.
Vergil stood by the door for a while, watching the room quietly. Everything was so dark: there was only a few rays of light that managed to slither through the blocked windows, but everything else was as if bathed in charcoal. He couldn’t make out the silhouette of any of his stuffed animals or toys, even his favorite ones, only being able to identify the bigger things: his bed, desk, chairs, wardrobe… Only parts of a whole, eaten away by fire and decay.
He wasn’t sure he would be able to enter. Not because of the crumbling floor, but because of his heart. It was so stupid, and so easy: he just had to put one foot in front of the other and walk in. Just walk in. Hardly the most impossible thing he had ever done.
And still… It felt like it. As if his feet were weighed down, unable to move. He couldn’t lift them, neither to move forward nor to move back. He could just… Stand. Watch. Feel the air in his lungs running out, as if that stuffed heat in the atmosphere hadn’t left after all those years.
It was pathetic.
Trying to move his feet, Vergil did manage to take one of them off the floor, only to step almost in the same spot it was before. His heart raced in his chest and Vergil couldn’t move. Those silvery eyes went back into his room, searching the thing he was there for, thinking that maybe, if he spotted it, he would be able to walk again.
But how was he going to find something that was hidden? Vergil sighed upon his own stupidity: he knew where it was, where he had left it long ago. It was just a completely illogical wish of his anxiety flooded mind to find it in a different place.
Vergil closed his eyes. He wouldn’t get anywhere like that. Taking a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders back rhythmically, slowly getting his heartbeat at a normal pace again. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, going back there… But he could do that for you.
Opening his eyes again, Vergil raised his head and took a step in.
And the world didn’t seem to end. Of course.
“Foolish human heart…” He mumbled under his breath, almost rolling his eyes at himself. Such a drama to do something so mundane.
“You have to offer yourself some kindness, the same you always offer me. You don’t have to be strong and stoic all the time.”
Once again, your voice echoed through his mind, as the gentle reminders you always worked so hard to etch into his soul even. Vergil couldn’t help but lightly shake his head, with a tired sigh he would only let out around you.
“Kindness is easier to be offered to the likes of you, dear saint…” Vergil knew you couldn’t hear him nor his words would be known by anyone; but, after so long on his own, surviving completely alone, he took a habit of talking to himself and having conversations in his own mind.
Something you were very aware of and, thankfully, never teased him for it.
“Thus from your lips, by mine, thine sin is purged.”
Vergil did stop in the middle of his room, closing his eyes once more – but this time, trying to control the hot flushing of blood immediately running to his face. He could also hear your giggle, from when you told him that adaptation of Juliet’s line from Shakespeare’s work, after the first time he called you “dear saint” – and how you kissed him, so passionately, right after; causing him to freeze for a few seconds, the same way as he was at the moment.
If only he could purge all his sins with kisses of yours. By now, he would probably be absolved from his crimes, how many of them you liked to place all over him.
Taking a deep breath once again, Vergil opened his eyes. Everything was strangely where he last left them – the fire, even if all consuming, didn’t move his things out of their place. Piles of books were still where Vergil last arranged them, his small clothes hanging inside what was left of the closet, the rug still a little too much to the left, his wooden sword almost all gone by his bed side.
With his careful steps, Vergil unconsciously ran his fingers at the top of the remnants of his desk – with a touch so light, he could barely feel the texture of the wrecked furniture. Just like the rest of the house, he wasn’t ready to have it all gone; he wanted his room to stay there, at least just for a little while. He wanted to be sure that, at some point in time, young Vergil did exist; and he was happy.
Getting to his bed, Vergil stopped by its side and tested the floorboards with his weight – even forcing a little bit by bouncing a couple of times. The spot near the head, by the wall, seemed sturdy enough; and so, he knelt, looking under the burned covers that draped over the edge of the mattress.
The satisfaction that flooded his chest poured over his lips as Vergil smiled, seeing it had been there all that time. Badly burned, yes, but apparently his bed was enough to take most of the damage for the things he left underneath it.
Pulling out a wooden box – which, once, was beautiful and carefully embellished, with iron details and a clasp to avoid prying hands – Vergil placed it over the nearest furniture so he could check its contents while standing.
It was a delight to know most of the things he kept in there were almost intact. An old book, a little jewelry box and…
Vergil’s smile slipped through his lips like water, as his eyes found it. His fingers fidgeted, as his hands hesitated to touch it… Scared it would crumble and that memory would fade away; that part of that little Vergil who hid it under his bed.
A little teddy bear.
Now with its caramel fur all dirty and slightly charred, glassy eyes with one of them almost falling out, with a big, beautiful blue bow around his neck – now dirty and frayed at the edges, but Vergil could remember as if it was yesterday, when Eva’s delicate hands tied it so gently around the bear’s neck, so they would know it belonged to him.
It was his favorite plush as a child. As they grew up, Dante teased him for still sleeping with his little teddy bear, but Vergil didn’t want to throw it away – after Sparda disappeared, whenever the nights were too dark and he was afraid of demons coming in silence, he would hold his teddy bear and close his eyes, telling himself everything would be alright.
And so, young Vergil would hide the plush in his prized wooden box under his bed: the one where he would keep all things he didn’t want Dante to touch. He had a hunch Eva knew about it; and whenever his mother mentioned, vaguely, a box under his bed, she just flashed him a knowing smile, as if it was their secret. As if she knew Dante would take everything Vergil owned and be not so careful with them; and, if Vergil kept them there, it was because he loved them too much to risk losing them.
Vergil took the little teddy bear in his hands, finally resting Yamato by the bed side. Now, it looked so small – just like his room: somehow, in his mind, it was a lot bigger than it now was. Vergil unconsciously ran one of his hands over the little plush’s head, almost too gently, trying to carefully get the falling eye back where it belonged.
It seemed so much bigger when he was a child. Everything seemed bigger when he was a child. And now, it was small, just like his room, just like everything else. Vergil’s hands were big, calloused, rough, used to blood and pain – quite different from those young hands, so small, smooth, soft, used to kindness and gentleness.
That little torn teddy bear, having survived for so long, forgotten in the dark aftermath of such violence… That once had been so much loved and cared for, that Vergil would keep it in that box so he could take out during the night, holding it during his darkest hours. That bear, now so little in his monstrous hands.
Vergil sat down at the edge of his old bed, forgetting, for a moment, that it could all collapse with his weight – but it didn’t; as if it remembered he was the one to safely sleep in there and call it his own.
Looking down at that little bear in his devilish hands, Vergil tried to fix its frayed blue bow as carefully as he could, without even realizing how a tear dripped from his face on the plush, clearing one of those glassy, dirty eyes.
He wished his tears could wash away all the charred remnants of the evil that destroyed that house. But all Vergil could do at that moment, was to hold his little teddy bear in his hands and cry – for all the things that were lost that night, including that little child who used to sleep in that bed.
*
You were quite thankful for how normal Vergil acted towards you that entire day.
He hadn’t told anyone in the crew about your birthday – and so, you managed to work normally with Dante and Lady without any grand gestures and celebrations. That kind of peace followed you throughout the whole day; until you got home and found Vergil calmly reading one of his own books, greeting you with a normal, uneventful kiss.
Before you took your well deserved shower for that evening, he did tell you he had ran a few errands, slaying some demons along the way – nothing out of the ordinary.
“I was wondering if you would like to watch something later, perhaps…?” Was the only thing a little out of place he said, but Vergil did enjoy to watch movies with you.
It wasn’t everyday you both weren’t too tired to do so, though, so it wasn’t that much of a daily thing – and you could see it as a way for him recognizing it was your birthday without being too obvious about it.
And you could always appreciate that.
After your shower then, you met him again in the living room, already thinking what you could have as diner. Maybe he would be interested in some Chinese food – after all, Vergil was very skilled with chopsticks.
But he was nowhere to be found.
“Vergil…? Are you…?”
“Here, love.” And you heard a dark giggle as you almost jumped out of your own skin. He was very skilled at being silent, too. “Do apologize.”
“I still have to get used to that...” You giggled back, shaking your head with a sigh, while Vergil had his hands clasped behind himself.
“I think both of us need to get used to plenty of new things.” As he spoke, you looked back at him, slightly furrowing your brows – after all, Vergil did have a faint smile coloring his lips. “I did run some important errands today… May I?”
You found it even stranger when he asked for your left hand, but you did place it on his. You noticed Vergil left something over the desk by your side, although your attention was immediately caught by a delicate chain with a small plaque he gently placed around your wrist. After clasping it securely in place, not too tight but also not lose enough so it wouldn’t spin around your arm, he fixed the bracelet to have the little plaque atop of your wrist.
It was quite old and even dirty, oxidized with time and somewhat rough because of the dirt, but it was easy to see it was made of pure gold – and, on that delicate plaque, with embellished lettering, it was written Vergil.
“When we were born, my parents made each of us a gold bracelet with our names on it. An old custom that perhaps is already lost.” Vergil considered, still gently holding your hand and admiring his old bracelet on your wrist. “As we grew older, my father had the bracelet length elongated, so we could still wear it in adulthood. I think it looks better on you.”
With that, Vergil placed a rather long kiss on your fingers, as you took a little time to understand what was going on. That was one of his most prized belongings, and he did tell you how he liked proudly wearing it as a child – but decided to keep it safe as the chain broke during a fight with Dante once, even if Eva skillfully put the links back into place.
Something so delicate, so regal, so holy didn’t fit him anymore, at least that was how Vergil saw it. He wanted to give you something special, a part of himself you could keep with you at all times… And that bracelet, the one made for when he was just an untainted baby, seemed like the best thing he could give.
It was one of the very few things Vergil had left – from that lost child he mourned earlier in his broken home.
“I also… Wanted you to have this.” Before you could say anything or even react, he took the book he left on the desk by your side, offering it to you.
Vergil wouldn’t say more, as he hoped the book could speak for itself.
Inferno, by Dante Alighieri. You had a bit of confusion in your eyes, as you gently felt the red leather of the book – strangely charred around the edges – with worn out golden filigrees that created the intricate artwork of the cover. Opening it, Vergil only watched you with gentle eyes, carefully admiring every single one of your reactions.
You could swear your heart stopped for a moment as you read the name written on the first page – Sparda, with a calligraphy that wasn’t from Vergil or from Dante. It looked old, as the pages were spotted and yellowed… And, on a smaller lettering, a little message “happy birthday, my love” – now, from a calligraphy you knew quite well.
“Vergil, I…” You didn’t even realize when your eyes filled with tears; you just felt them as you looked up at him and saw Vergil scintillating among the water.
“These are the kinds of gifts worth giving.” And even if he wasn’t one to interrupt you, he was one to call you out – especially when you were resistant to accept some love. “Please, don’t refuse them. It’s all I have.”
“Oh, I would never refuse them, Vergil…” Your answer was a whisper, as you fought your very heart, trying to keep your tears in your eyes – and failing beautifully, if Vergil had to point it out, for you had a beautiful smile spreading on your lips; probably from the golden warmth that flooded your chest. “It’s so much more than…”
“Don’t say you don’t deserve it.” He mirrored your whisper, placing one of his hands on your face, gently wiping a few of the tears away. “I’d say I don’t deserve you either, yet here we are.”
“Here we are indeed.” You whispered back with a giggle, as Vergil genuinely smiled back at watching your happiness – after all, you always knew how sincere it was from watching it spreading through his eyes, melting that icy silvery gaze at least for a little while.
You reached for him, placing a long, soothing kiss on his lips. It always warmed your heart how he always seemed so stiff at the first few seconds, only to thaw into it and pour around you like water; like a melting of the frost he always carried in his eyes. You were one of the very few people in the world who ever got to experience a warmer side of his, and that you would cherish forever as one of the greatest gifts.
To think you deserved to have that – a love so quiet, so warm, so respectful… Definitely not an easy one, but welcoming and embracing, something that honored your boundaries and still went to great lengths – silently, through actions that were worth more than a million winged words – to show you how precious and loved you were… That was much more than you had ever dreamed of.
“Nothing comes from nothing…” As you parted your lips from Vergil’s, you could barely take them away enough from him; still brushing his as you started singing, with Vergil slightly furrowing his brows in confusion. “Nothing ever could… So, somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.”
Oh, he knew exactly what you were singing – and why. And the irony wasn’t lost in Vergil of you singing it to him… When he should be the one talking about his wicked past.
“For here you are standing there loving me…” He answered quietly, reciting more than singing – but still, a rare, rare occurrence. Your own heart was humming alongside him. “Whether or not you should.”
“So, somewhere in my youth…”
“Or childhood.” Vergil couldn’t hold back one of his dark giggles, seeing how much you seemed to glow with his prompt answer to your singing.
“I must have done something good.” You didn’t always sing together, but when you did, both of you found it rather delightful how well your voices danced together – even if his was much more contained and spoken rather than proper singing.
It was decided, then, you would spend the night watching The Sound of Music.
*
Or at least, that was what you both expected you could do – having not planned sleeping in each other’s arms, right on the couch, under a set of warm blankets and the movie’s music embracing you both like a quiet lullaby.
At some point in the night, Vergil did wake up and move around so you would both properly lay down, with you snuggled in his arms almost hiding your face on his chest, as he kept you warm and safe; turning the TV off and having only soft drops of the rain outside as something to gently keep you in your slumber.
Looking down at you in his arms, Vergil lightly caressed your hair, noticing how peaceful you seemed – the worry left your brows and the corners of your mouth, as you almost appeared to be softly smiling; gently dreaming in his company, of all creatures.
To think a dear saint like yourself would give a devil like him any chance of expiation, as mild as it could be, offering him your heart while asking for nothing in return…
Vergil never really understood how you could extend him so much grace, even after knowing of all his transgressions. Perhaps… Perhaps you had in your heart the same thing his mother had when it came to loving his father; even when Sparda was, in fact, a demon out of Hell.
“Perhaps I had a wicked childhood…” As you slept, Vergil could sing to himself; in the quietness of the dark, when no one else was watching and he was the only one to hear his whispered words. “Perhaps I had a miserable youth… But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past, there must have been a moment of truth…”
As he placed a sleepy kiss at the top of your head, Vergil closed his eyes, holding you a little tighter against his chest. He did, however, miss by a fraction of a second the pleased smile you allowed to spread over your tired lips.
You didn’t know when among many miserable birthdays it happened for you to deserve that now… But you knew, somewhere in there, you must have done something good.
Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.
Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution
Author’s notes: A lot more on the crew and Nero this time... Plus, we got a certain red devil coming back from Hell ;)
Not gonna lie, I'm enjoying writing reader's relationship with the kid, they deserve all the loves hahaha
Also, a blue devil to reappear in the next chapter 👀
Chapter 10
“Guess talkin’ ‘bout you devil hunters can summon you right away, huh?” Nico’s voice was laced with a fun laugh, the crew already together and just waiting for you to arrive: Lady and Trish sat by Dante’s big wooden desk while Nico lounged on the big sofa and Nero paced around, as always.
It was a quiet afternoon around the shop – and it had been such a long time you hadn’t set foot there. Seeing everyone at the Devil May Cry was enough to make your heart smile, but… You couldn’t help an empty spot taking space as soon as your eyes found Dante’s chair, empty.
The golden glow of the afternoon made it look like he was a distant memory: you expected him to come out of the bathroom, shirtless, shaking his wet hair and smiling at you anytime, but it wouldn’t happen. It seemed that, without him, the Devil May Cry was awfully quiet, like a house that lost its heart – and was now ready for new people to move in, giving it a new spirit.
It wasn’t necessarily bad, just empty.
“Hey, it’s quite a long ride from my city.” You turned your eyes to Nico, closing the door behind you. “I’m here on time.”
The gunsmith checked the clock on the wall – only to find it frozen in time, when it ran out of batteries. Still, you were there on time: it wasn’t your fault everyone arrived early.
“Still no news…?” You pointed at the empty chair. It seemed like no one would sit on it, even if Dante never came back. It was his place, after all, and taking it over almost felt like… Disrespect, if that made any sense.
“Nothing.” Trish’s answer was as hard to read as always – you knew she had a heart, she just wasn’t so keen on showing it. “But the last Qliphoth parts collapsed some time ago. They did do their job.”
“Probably climbing out of that awful place by now. We don’t know how deep the roots went.” Lady crossed her arms, flashing a fiery look towards you. “You could’ve said goodbye if you were there with us in Red Grave.”
“I’m very aware of that, Lady, thank you very much.” You turned towards the woman with a forced smile on your lips, making her laugh in response. “The Abyss is known to have the worst timing when it comes to my life.”
“Isn’t it weird, though…?” As Nico spoke, all eyes turned to her. “I mean, that thing openin’ up the same day we saved your asses from Urizen?”
Trish and Lady only limited themselves to glare at Nico, clearly not liking her choice of words. And that made you smile.
“Yeah. It was one hell of a coincidence, but, ya know…” Nero shrugged, resting his hands on his hips right after and finally stopping the pacing. “We’ve seen weirder.”
“That, we have.” You slowly agreed with your head, sighing right after. “As much as I wished to be there with you guys, to have seen Dante and to have met his brother, there’s nothing I can do about it now. Just wait for that dumbass to return.”
“You… Don’t wish you had met Dante’s twin. Trust me on that one.” Lady’s words were categorical, as the woman sighed and shook her head, almost as if to shake away a bad memory along with it.
“But I don’t think you called me here just to scold me for passing that job, right…?” You raised one of your eyebrows, crossing your arms.
The empty chair didn’t bother only your heart, it bothered everyone’s. It was a silent wish, but you would bet your most prized belongings that the whole crew wanted the chair to be occupied again, by the man that brought all of you together.
Still, you didn’t believe they would all be petty enough to call you that day after almost two years just to kick you where your regret hurt the most.
“We got a call from Morrisson. One of his contacts at a nearby city, Mercy Springs, has been reporting some strange happenings and creatures, so he thought it was right up our alley.” Lady pointed at Trish, seeing they had been running the Devil May Cry ever since Dante got locked down in Hell. “At first, yeah, it sounded like demonic stuff. So, Morrisson’s contact brought us part of a carcass of one of the dead things; you know, so we could take a look and know what we’re dealing with… And… Well…”
Lady’s words faded, same way as her eyes left yours with an unsure look.
That was definitely out of character.
“Well…?” You asked back with certainty, arms still crossed, but pushing with your own gaze. Lady looked at Trish, who just threw the carcass on Dante’s desk, as if it weighed nothing.
You couldn’t refrain from furrowing your brows as you stared at that thing on the table. It occupied almost its entire surface, and it was only a broken part of a whole: and part was the best description you had for it.
It looked like an amalgamation of organic matter and porcelain, rotten and decayed, forming part of a body that could be dismantled at will. You would say the insides would be hollow, if there weren’t vein markings and dried, pitch-black blood in shapes that could’ve been internal organs – now missing, probably with the rest of the dead creature, considering it was only a carcass.
“You know what this is, right?” Trish’s cold lavender blue eyes observed you intently, as you only looked back into them and slowly confirmed with your head, turning your gaze back to the creature on the desk.
You were glad it was dead.
“A doll part.” You kept your voice low, but the entire crew could hear you speaking.
“Ei! Translation to the non-versed in demonic codexes and such?” Nico pointed at her and Nero, making him look a little annoyed at her. “C’mon. You haven’t even read that huge ass book yet!”
“I’m…! Well, I’m busy, killin’ demons all the time!” Nero huffed back at her. You had lent him your copy of the Codex Daemonica for over a year now – and he hadn’t even left the first twenty pages. “When I’ve time to chill, I go over the book! But I’m not gonna memorize it, c’mon…! Bet no one here knows it! Other than y/n, of course, but they practically live in a library!”
“Dante had it memorized.” Trish’s comment was enough to turn all surprised eyes to her – except yours. You just had a knowing smile in your eyes. “Hey, don’t ask me. He said it was a thing from his father, Sparda.”
“Made them repeat during dinner what they had memorized through the day.” You added – and, as Trish only nodded in agreement, the others just stared back in even more awe; not knowing if you two were serious or joking around.
You and Trish, though, weren’t the types to make that kind of joke.
“Ok. Forget ‘bout it.” Nero quickly shook his head, seeing that would completely derail the reason why you were all there. “You said it’s a doll part. I fought some scarecrow lookin’ demons in Fortuna, is it somethin’ like that?”
“I can see them evolving from this one, yeah…” You mused, looking back at the carcass on the table. “But they are another thing entirely.”
“This is something we call Changeling Dolls in Hell.” Trish leaned on Dante’s desk, crossing her arms and having a sort of professorial look – in her own nonchalant way. “Similar to the Puppets controlled by a Hell Puppeteer; some of them made of the same parts.”
“They can take themselves apart and reassemble as they see fit.” You continued her line of thought, watching as Lady wrinkled her nose: she was always the first one to get strong reactions of complete disgust towards demons. And you always appreciated that. “It takes a while to kill them. There’s little to no resources on how to exactly do it, but it’s believed you have to destroy its heart.”
“Tearing it out of their chest should do the trick. If you can reach it, that is.” Trish shrugged, almost as if talking about something so unimportant. Now it was Nico and Nero’s turn to wrinkle their noses in disgust, just like Lady. “No one truly knows, because Changeling Dolls, just like Hell Puppeteers, are extinct; and haven’t been seen in more than five hundred years. I never met one. This…” And she pointed at the carcass on the desk. “Is a first.”
“Ooooh, that can’t be good…” Nico shook her head, having a gloomy tone in her voice. “What gives…?”
“That’s exactly why we called you.” Lady pointed at you, while letting out a heavy sigh. “When Trish said this wasn’t supposed to exist, I thought ‘well, there’s only one expert in the crew on things that shouldn’t exist’.”
“Hmmm…” You once again turned your attention to the carcass – it was eerily familiar, reminding you of the very first time the Abyss made you see things you didn’t want to see. “I fought Puppeteers, twice. They came out of the Abyss, but only in two of the few occasions it opened.”
“Wait, what…?” Nero immediately cut you off, shaking his head. “You fought an extinct demon…? And won?!”
“Yep.” You shrugged as if it wasn’t that big of a deal, seeing the admiration even in Trish’s lavender eyes. You never told them about the demon in the blue coat, and you decided to keep it that way as your life went by. They probably wouldn’t understand joining forces, even if temporarily, with such a dangerous creature – and having them as an archenemy you still hadn’t been able to kill. Nero would certainly barge in and fight the demon for you to kill him once and for all, since you weren’t powerful enough to best him, but that kill was yours. “On one occasion, it was the first time I saw something coming out of the Abyss, and realized it was a two way street. Back in my city, we had some doubts if all the demons coming out were only from Hell or from the Abyss as well, but that day I was certain. And it was something supposedly extinct.”
“Do you know more ‘bout it? What’s in the Abyss?” Nero had his hands on his waist, concerned eyes fixated on you – but you could only sigh in response.
“That’s what I’m still trying to figure out.” You shook your head, crossing your arms once again, while furrowing your brows – not in concern, but in utter annoyance. “I don’t know if it is a prison, a place of exile, a deeper layer of Hell, or something else entirely. I know how it came to be, but not its purpose. It started as a layer of Hell itself, ruled by the Kings just like many others, but something shifted through the years. You cannot easily access the Abyss through Hell – and to this day, I still don’t know if there’s a pattern to the cracks opening here in the human world, nor how they show up.”
“Well, whatever it may be, we might find some answers with this job.” Lady walked towards you – hands on her hips, ready to gear up and go. “If extinct demons are showing up, it can only be an Abyss thing then. It may not have opened yet, but some of its things are slipping through. We can’t pass this one up.”
“And we won’t.” You answered her with a tinge of a smile in your lips, but a knowing look in your eyes - having Lady open up an excited smile in return.
You, Lady and Trish didn’t need anything else to know it was time to grab your weapons and hit the road, immediately heading towards your gear to set it up. Nico and Nero just looked at each other, always a little surprised with how fast you three decided it was time to go to work.
“You know, you people are too willin’ to go kill stuff.” Nico pointed out, having Nero stare at her. “Nothin’ against it! Just sayin’! You’re doin’ one hell of a good job protectin’ the people!”
“Aren’t we…?” Nero let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “Gotta call Kyrie, say I probably won’t be comin’ home for dinner.”
“You can use the phone!” And Lady almost sang the answer, strapping Kalina Ann to her back.
One of the biggest changes at the Devil May Cry with the ladies in charge, was that the bills were always paid on time.
*
“And heeeere we are…!” The van stopped abruptly, forcing all of you to hold onto something while Nico smiled, her cigarette between her teeth. “This is the place your contact told you to meet ‘em, right ladies?”
“Police station, right next to the City Hall.” Lady pointed at a smaller building, only a few feet away from the van. “They should have more…”
Before she could finish speaking, though, the floor rumbled under your feet – and it wasn’t Nico’s bad driving. It came from inside the earth, causing people walking on the street to lose their balance and the buildings threaten to lose their foundations – but somehow still standing in place. Nero, who had just gotten up to leave the van, immediately held you with one of his arms, while keeping you both in balance by holding onto his seat with his free hand.
“You ok?”
“Yeah, thanks Nero.” You nodded, looking around and finding everyone alright – only for the earth to shake again, with Nero tightening his grip around you so both of you wouldn’t fall. Even Trish, who had a supernaturally good balance, had to hold onto something. “The Abyss is already opening. We gotta go.”
Before any of them could say anything, you got back on your feet and opened the van’s door, jumping out and quickly checking on your gear as the rest of the crew followed.
“You go meet Morrisson’s contact and start evacuating the city as fast as you can.” You had your silver sword strapped to your back, as always, ready to fight. And now, a silver pistol Dante gave you after your first job together at the Devil’s Den, saying you seriously lacked some firepower – even if you already had some in your arsenal… His was better. “This place is going to become a hellhole in a matter of minutes.”
“But hey, question: how’re demons gonna get here? The Abyss opens Hell too?” Nico leaned on the open window of the van, cigarette now between her fingers.
“I can’t tell you with certainty, Nico.” You answered with a sigh, looking away in the distance, almost as if you had sensed something. And, in a way, you did... Something you hadn’t felt in a while. “But they are connected, yes. What the Abyss does, though, is thinning the veil between the human world and Hell, making it easier for demons to come through – they don’t need an open gate to cross over…” You sighed, finally looking back at the gunsmith virtuosa. “And that’s how shit hits the fan.”
“And where will you go, then?” Trish had her guns ready, but looked the most casual of all hunters: with her lightning skills, she was already a walking weapon herself. “You mentioned we should start evacuating the city.”
“I’ll go to the Abyss. If my research is correct, I’ve always reached it too late.” Now you had certainty in your eyes – the same you learned from that blue coated devil; the same you learned to harbor whenever dealing with situations like the one you barely survived on your own city. “The earlier I get there, the earlier I can understand how and why it opens. And maybe I can pick up a pattern after so many years…”
“And close it for good.” Lady had that same fire in her eyes, understanding where all your determination came from. “Alright. We’ll start the evacuation, I don’t think it’ll be…”
And again, the woman was interrupted; you all heard a cacophony of shrieks down the street – followed by screams. As you turned to see what was going on, a creature resembling a dark, bloody wolf ran towards you while bearing its teeth, ready to tear you into pieces.
And it exploded in the middle of its pounce with a few silver bullets from the Blue Rose – Nero having shot it dead before it could even think of reaching you.
“You were sayin’…?” He shook his head, not even looking at Lady: all of you had your attention on the demons that were melting through walls of buildings and pavement on the streets, precisely as if, like you said, what separated your worlds was now thin and merging together. “Are you sure you can go by yourself? I mean, the ladies are pretty strong and can deal with it on their own…”
“I’m sure, Nero. They are strong, but the people on the city will need you. If I didn’t have any of you here, I’d be helping evacuation rather than going to the Abyss.” You turned to him as Lady and Trish already ran towards the demons, blowing them up with bullets, rockets and lighting; quickly making their way to the police station. “This is the first time I have the opportunity to go there as soon as I can because you’re here. And I know you’re not going to fuck everything up.” With that, Nero immediately turned his gaze away from you – as he always did when you said something flattering and he didn’t know how to react. “You got the same blood as Dante. And, as strong as the ladies are, I have faith in that. In your heart. You can beat whatever thing that comes out from Hell – so I’m free to do my job.”
“Well… Ok.” Nero finally looked back at you, scratching the back of his neck as he always did when he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Just… Stay safe, ok? If ya need any help…”
“What? I’ll scream around so you’ll know where to find me?” You joked around, making him immediately laugh back and lose the nervousness on his shoulders. “Are those devil ears that good? How do you sleep?”
“Very well, thank you very much.” With his bantering switch turned on, Nero now carried the confidence he always did when at work. “I’ll find ya if I need to! Now let’s go; don’t wanna be the reason why you miss your timin’!”
“Thank you, kid!” And, with a wink, you started running in the opposite direction than Nero.
After all, you could still feel it. And your instinct was never wrong about that.
*
If he had to be honest, Nero never sat down to actually talk to you about what happened the day your city was destroyed by the Abyss. From what Dante had quickly told him, Nero always concluded it was something similar to what happened in Fortuna – so there wasn’t that much to talk about.
He also didn’t want anyone trying to get all therapist-like with him, trying to “fix the trauma” from what happened in his past. Nero did trust you to an extent, but, inevitably, everyone older than him treated him like a child that needed some guidance. And that made his blood boil.
He knew he was assuming too much, yes, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to try, even more after all the conversations you had and you were so… Trusting. Accepting. Treating him like an actual adult, telling him you had faith in his judgment and his strength. Nero never really had that, aside from Kyrie of course, but with you… It was different. Hearing it from you, someone used to hunt with Dante, as experienced as him and the ladies, it hit… Differently.
And that day, seeing what Mercy Springs had become with the opening of the Abyss… Well, everything was hitting a lot differently.
They managed to quickly reach the ladies’ contact in town, and City Hall immediately announced the evacuation. Police officers and military hit the streets to help save as many people as possible, but everything was pure chaos – almost exactly like when the demons invaded Fortuna and people ran around aimlessly, trying to save themselves.
But this time, the floor was shaking every few minutes, and then… Those creatures. The ones Lady and Trish showed only the shell of a carcass. They looked strange… And they smelled strange.
“Phew! Someone blew up the sewers or somethin’…?” But Nero’s smart quip immediately got lost in his tongue as soon as he saw the owner of the stench.
Lady and Nico probably couldn’t feel it, but he was sure Trish could. It wasn’t like the smell of sulfur and rot from the demons in Hell, this one carried those scents along with blood and something… Old. As if it was rotting inside a place far away from the sun, the stars and everything else that could be considered good.
Nero immediately furrowed his brows. Indeed, that thing looked like a doll: all its parts were glossy white, crackled, chipped as porcelain and looking like it could be easily torn apart. But it also had something of organic: dark veins ran from its many arms, to the legs, through the torso and the faces… Blank, expressionless faces with open mouths glowing in deep red – the same color of its fleshy insides; every time it took a step, it looked like it was going to fall apart, only to contort its joints and reveal it wasn’t hollow like a real doll; it was something else.
“Damn, you’re an ugly son of a bitch…” Nero couldn’t stop himself from wrinkling his nose and looking that thing from head to toe. “And a stinky one, too.”
“Yeah… No matter how far down you go in Hell…” Trish casually stopped by Nero, resting Ombra on her shoulder, but keeping her sharp lavender blue eyes on that thing. “You can’t smell that bad. And that old, for that matter.”
“Hmmm, noticed that too… Was kinda hopin’ it was just my lil’ sensitive human nose.” Nero snickered back, making her let out a genuine laugh. Trish would never tell him that, but she appreciated how much of Dante’s humor Nero seemed to naturally have in him. It made the Devil May Cry feel less empty. “Well, not gonna let that fugly thing walk ‘round for too long. Time to go back where you belong, wherever that is!”
With that, Nero revved Red Queen up, quickly charging in. Jumping right into the creature, he was fast and angry, cutting it to pieces before it could even understand what happened. As he finally gave his sword a break, the hellish doll broke apart, dismantling like it was never really alive in the first place.
“Eww, that’s gross…” And Nero couldn’t help but take a few steps back as he saw the fleshy insides of the creature, with its thick, almost black blood pooling near his feet. The flesh pulsated along with its organs, quite different from an empty doll. “So… That’s it…?”
“Kinda anti-climatic for an extinct demon…” Lady sighed with disdain, only now managing to approach Nero and Trish – having almost blown up the previous block. “I expected a bit more.”
“Well…” Trish furrowed her brows, readying Luce and Ombra in her hands as the dismembered parts of the doll started trembling on the floor. “Careful what you wish for, dear.”
The hunters took a few steps back as one of the broken arms started crawling towards another. Soon, they gripped at each other, using themselves to grab others and quickly start piecing its broken body together – although in a different appearance than the previous one. Now, it used a few of the arms as legs, crawling through the floor like a spider made of limbs and expressionless heads.
“I… Agree with you on this one, Nero. This bitch is ugly.” Lady got Kalina Ann ready, steadily anchoring herself on the floor, lightly bending her knees. Nero and Trish knew it was her rocket shooting stance, safely taking a few steps back behind the woman – it was better than to be in her line of destruction. “Time to say goodbye for good!”
If there was one thing they could always be certain with Lady, was that she never missed a shot. Dante was good with his guns, but she specialized only in that kind of combat – and Kalina Ann was her pride and joy. The rocket hit the Changeling Doll, breaking it again into hundreds of pieces, making its arms explode around the air, and its heads roll on the floor.
Laying lifeless in the chaos, just like it happened before with Nero.
“You think it worked this time?” He asked, a little bit unsure, watching those porcelain-like pieces resting as if they always been lifeless.
“I hope so.”
But as Lady barely finished her words, the arms started crawling again. This time, running faster, like quick arachnids jumping in water – ready to catch their prey, now that it knew what it was going against. The hunters jumped back, readying their weapons as the doll put itself together one more time – now, in an even more uncanny form than before.
“Maybe it needs, you know…” Lady looked over to Trish, who immediately understood the glare.
Nero had no idea where the woman found a pair of sunglasses, but in the blink of an eye, Trish had them over her lilac blue eyes, hands already sparkling with yellow lightning.
“Takes a demon to kill a demon.” As she spoke those words, the woman smiled – and one could barely notice a pair of fangs along her teeth. “Time to get this party started. You’re coming as well, Nero?”
“Huh?” He furrowed his brows for a second; a quick one before understanding what Trish meant. Nero was sure her invitation had to do with you – he would easily bet Red Queen that you were the one who told the ladies to put a little faith in him. And he wouldn’t let that chance go. “Thought you’d never ask!”
With a burst of energy, human Nero was no more – giving room to his dark red and teal blue scaled skin, long white hair, golden yellow eyes and ghostly, blue shimmering wings resting on his shoulders. The horns on his head resembled white feathers, and Lady could swear that wasn’t the only thing that made him look taller.
The ladies had seen Dante trigger close to them before, but never Nero. After all those years, they could see what you had told them once: he was not a kid anymore and he had all the power to be a legendary devil hunter just like his uncle – you all just needed to give him some space to do so.
“Now…” His distorted voice echoed from his chest – and both Trish and Lady couldn’t deny how much they missed hearing that voice tone from Dante. Having Nero around was strangely… Comforting. “Let’s get this party started, ladies!”
“I’ll give you cover!”
As soon as Lady screamed, Trish and Nero ran into offensive, while she jumped back to place strategic shots with her guns, having to leave Kalina Ann out of the fight for a while. Nero had Red Queen in his hands, charging in with a powerful blow, as Trish powered the attack with a combination of punches from her lightning charged hands.
For a moment, it felt exactly like it did when they used to hunt together, Trish, Lady and Dante. They didn’t do it all the time, and only on big jobs – which usually wouldn’t pay well for Dante and Trish, but they were some of the most enjoyable ones. Trish had the ruthlessness of a demon, Lady had the passion of a human, and Dante knew how to balance both. It looked fun because it usually was fun – it was very rare, for any of them, to be scared and to actually lose, or be in serious danger.
Nero… He had a different heart, but still so similar. Not as hurt as Dante’s, but just as bright – and he fought with the same fire. Always trying to prove himself worthy, he wouldn’t back down… And he had the same big mouth as his uncle.
“Sorry…” Nero stopped a powerful attack that made Lady worry for a slight second, as Trish immediately charged for a decisive kick that would make that thing fly in the air at least a couple meters up – but she didn’t need to, with Red Queen perforating one of the creature’s red mouths. “You’re no match for me. And pretty pathetic too.”
With an edge of hatred and disgust in his words, Nero plunged his sword deeper into the creature’s mouth, making that head crack and burst into little pieces of porcelain-like flesh.
Lady had to roll her eyes. He had a lot of his father’s arrogance too.
“Hey!” Trish yelled as the demon stumbled back in its many hands and legs, shrieking with the loss of one of its heads. “The heart! I think I can see it!”
Lady looked right at where Trish was pointing: previously a part of the creature’s torso, it was now lodged on one of its sides, near the arms that served as legs and feet. Underneath a small crack, her multicolored eyes found a red glimmer – faint, but if its mouths were glowing, certainly another glowing piece on the inside could only mean one of its organs; and, maybe, the heart.
Lady didn’t think twice: preparing her guns, she made it rain bullets over the demon. It immediately turned its expressionless heads towards her, frantically running like a spider on its arms to catch her. The bullets only chipped its porcelain skin and they could see a little more of the glow, but it wasn’t enough to show them if it really was the demon’s heart.
“Hey! I was the one who broke one of your ugly heads!” Nero could feel his heart beating faster in his chest as the creature approached Lady so quickly, they could barely react in time.
Even if she was an experienced devil hunter, he would never let that thing hurt her or Trish with him around – he’d rather fistfight the Changeling Doll on his own than let the ladies get hurt. With that thought, he fired a couple of charged shots on that thing, blowing away a few of its arms, making it lose its balance and turn its many heads towards him.
“C’mon…!” Nero opened his arms, having a cocky smile on his lips, showing the rows of sharp teeth from his demonic form. “I’m feelin’ a little ignored!”
As the demon pounced in his direction, Lady and Trish couldn’t help but exchange a very quick look.
“Guess it runs in their blood…” Lady murmured, shaking her head, seeing Trish faintly laugh in the distance – with her demonic hearing, the devil-woman definitely heard her comment… And most certainly agreed.
It was like fighting side by side with Dante again, after all that time.
“’K, you piece of shit! Time to go! Show’s over!” Nero growled while taking the Red Queen out again, attacking the place previously shot by Lady with a revved up stinger.
The demon became even more aggressive, now that they could see more of the red glow Trish pointed at before. The devil-woman charged in with a few lightning attacks, making the porcelain skin crack even further – the crew slowly chipping away at the Changeling Doll’s defenses.
Sensing it was losing the fight, the creature started reassembling itself into an even more threatening form – still fighting, but using some free arms to put some pieces here, other legs there, heads upper and further away from Nero’s sword; almost taking the form of a mutated scorpion without a tail and a very long neck. It tried to take the piece protecting the red glow to a more defensive place, but with the hunter’s relentless attacks, it could only drive it upwards – right underneath the heads.
“Gotta say…” Nero slid backwards on his feet after having one of his attacks blocked; a faint glow wrapping around him only to have his human appearance back – along with the voice the ladies had grown used to since meeting him in Fortuna. “That thing doesn’t give up.”
“C’mon. We’re almost there.” Lady had that immovable fire in her eyes, now readying Kalina Ann one more time. Trish charged her yellow lightning around her hands once more, while Nero cracked his neck, ready for round two – the crew looking up to the towering Changeling Doll, wondering how they would get it on the floor so they could reach the part protecting what they concluded it could only be its heart.
Before being able to attack again, though, they heard the distant sound of engines coming from behind. Approaching quickly and savagely, with a rage they hadn’t heard in years.
“What…?”
Nero barely had time to mumble the beginning of his sentence. The motorcycle sound only got louder, and he could only think of you – after all, you did get to the Devil May Cry in your motorcycle, even if you rode in the van with everyone else for that job; Nico was still able to tie your bike on the back of her vehicle, if you needed it in an emergency.
“I feel the need…!” And, for a second, the crew couldn’t believe the voice their ears were picking up. “For speed!”
Cavaliere roared behind them and above their heads, speeding like lightning and plunging right into the Changeling Doll. Before it did, though, the man riding it jumped from its seat, shooting the creature with his dual guns while in the air and falling in his two feet, right between the crew and the ancient demon.
The motorcycle broke a few of the creature’s parts with the impact, making it stumble down and lose a little of its height – the place where the heart should be now a little more shattered, glowing even more.
“Damn, you’re an ugly son of a bitch. Someone ever told you that?” Dante rested Ivory on one of his shoulders, having a cocky smile on his lips – and ignoring the fact he was covered in demon blood.
Lady and Trish quickly exchanged looks again.
Of course. After so long… The bantering probably ran in their blood, indeed, along with the vocabulary.
“You heard the kid! Show’s over!”
His last word came out distorted, as Dante burst in a volcano of flames that made them all blink for a while – only to find him up in the air with the aid of his large, red glowing wings, flying right towards the creature’s heart.
Dante didn’t have to put much effort: with a quick, accurate move, he shattered the Changeling Doll’s porcelain plate in pieces, reaching for its beating, glowing red heart.
“Bullseye!” Having it in his hand, Dante pulled it out, making the creature let out a cacophony of shrieks through its many mouths, tumbling around in its arms.
Dante didn’t think twice: forcing his claws shut, the beating heart burst in his hand, having the almost tar black blood run down his arms. The Changeling Doll shrieked profusely, alternating into guttural growls, trying to reach out to Dante and take him down with it – as he slowly lowered to the floor.
Once his feet hit the pavement, a faint red glow brought Dante’s human appearance back, along with the Changeling Doll hitting the floor after its last breath – its mouths now completely black, blood pooling on the floor, limbs completely broken and motionless. Finally defeated.
Dante turned around to see the faces of the people he left behind years prior – and couldn’t help but smile upon seeing they hadn’t changed a bit.
“Took your time.” Trish rested her free hand on her waist, taking off her sunglasses; a small smile gracing the corner of her devilish lips. Dante couldn’t hold back a laugh.
“C’mon, babe, gimme a break. Weedin’ down the devil tree was a lot of work.” He crossed his arms, smile now wide on his lips. “And keepin’ an eye on Vergil.”
“You stink of demon blood, you know.” Lady pointed at him with her gun, and Dante immediately pretended to check how he was smelling. She had to laugh a little bit, remembering their fights at the Temen-ni-gru.
She had to appreciate how much he remained himself through the years.
“Part of the job, Lady. It’s been a while, cut me some slack.” He had a knowing look in his eyes, remembering the very same thing she did – which made Lady look away, rolling her eyes, trying to hold back the smile that insisted on spreading through her lips. He then turned his sky-blue eyes to his nephew, who just stared at him with an expression Dante couldn’t really read what it meant. “And you? Not a single word? Not a ‘thought you were dead and gone already, old man’…?”
As Dante jokingly spoke, Nero let go of Red Queen, having the sword hit the pavement with a loud clang. And, to shut his uncle up, Nero angrily walked towards him – making Dante sure he was about to take another beating from the kid.
It was almost like a ritual for them at that point. And he wouldn’t blame him.
The red devil was caught by surprise, though, when Nero locked his arms around him in a tight hug, hiding his face on Dante’s neck. The man didn’t know what to do with his own arms for a while – after all, he was covered in blood and reeking of Hell – only to soften up into it as he felt Nero pulling him even closer.
“Thought I’d never see your dumb face again…” Nero’s voice was muffled from keeping his face hidden in his uncle’s red coat – and Dante was sure he was hiding something more. “I missed you, jackass.”
“I…” Dante let out a deep breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in. With his shoulders softening up, he finally wrapped his arms around his nephew, which made Nero hold him even tighter – almost as if he was afraid Dante would disappear again. Trish and Lady watched quietly, smiling as they rested on a few building debris nearby. “Missed you too, kid.”
Dante tightened his arms around Nero, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to hide his face like his nephew was doing.
After all, sometimes even a devil may cry when meeting the family they thought they had lost for so long.
Dante & Vergil caring for their s/o pretending to be fine on a low-energy/emotionally exhausted day - Vergil Chapter
Pairings: Vergil x Reader
Summary: You could always expertly pretend everything was alright - you couldn’t, however, run for too long from the eyes of your lover. Even if you didn’t want to worry him, you were the easiest book for him to read.
Restrictions: Things are superficially mentioned and implied. Your job involves children and teens being kidnapped, and the main culprits this time… Are humans - hence your emptiness and exhaustion. There’s no more detail other than that, but I do think a warning is always nice if you want to avoid it.
Author’s Notes: 8.5k words, approximately. In my defense... It's the blue devil, and he wakes the philosopher poet inside of me. I did go over themes like forgiveness and redemption, grounding and meditation, anxiety and numbness, and the beauty of being loved so much you are seen and known. Didn't expect any of that, but it happened over the days hahaha and it has a lot of my own thoughts I have been having over those things.
And a whole Pablo Neruda poem at the end, just because :)
Vergil
The only thing that could denounce Vergil was eagerly waiting for something was the beat of his heart inside his chest.
Anyone who passed by would think his stillness mirrored his feelings: calm, collected, patiently waiting while reading another one of his many old books. Legs crossed, holding the tome with one hand, while his head gently leaned on the other one. Hours passed by, days and nights, cups of teas and quiet showers.
Only his heart knew how anxious it was, expecting you to come home.
Lady had called one day, asking for your help with something that could or could not be a job. She had uncertainty in her multicolored eyes – something quite unusual in Vergil’s gaze, since he remembered the fire and hatred on them back when meeting her for the first time at the Temen-ni-gru.
“An investigation…?” His question sounded like a judgment, but you knew from his inflection that it was more curiosity than anything else.
It didn’t help you were one of the very few people able to read Vergil. The other one would be Dante.
“Yes, investigation. Not everyone lives of killing people for fun.” Lady’s answer come as a slap on the face, while the woman crossed her arms and stared back at Vergil – and there it was, the fire and hatred he found so familiar.
“Please don’t kill each other.” You sighed, stepping in before Lady got one of her guns out and fired a warning shot right into Vergil’s forehead.
It wouldn’t kill him, but she was known to do that. Dante had told you how they first met.
“Seriously, don’t know how you put up with this guy.” Lady sighed, dismissing him with a quick hand wave. “In any case. There’s some children missing, and I got a call that it might be right up our alley. They don’t have any evidence, but seems legit.”
“You want to check with a quick investigation and then hunt the demons down? Saving the kids we can find on the way?” You already knew Lady’s work ethic for quite a while to know exactly what she had in mind – and the woman just smiled, nodding enthusiastically.
“We gotta find where those pieces of trash are hiding.” Her answer was simple, but she had a devilish smile on her lips. “I don’t think it’ll be quick, though. And it’s two cities away.”
“You will probably be away for a week.” Vergil also knew how both of you worked, making a quick estimation with the few information she had. “Don’t forget to pack a change of clothes this time. Both of you.”
Lady just raised one brow, looking back at you as Vergil finished speaking. As she opened her mouth, you just sighed.
“Yes, he usually is this bossy.” You confirmed before she could even ask – which made your lover slowly turn his silver eyes towards you. “Luckily, I am too.”
With a serene smile, the conversation was over as Lady laughed at Vergil’s empty expression. She couldn’t really read what was going on in his mind, concluding it was probably some level of contempt for what you said.
You were the only one who could read the smile he was hiding in his eyes.
The week had passed and you still weren’t home. Vergil was used to solitude, finding his own company more than sufficient to survive – but, with time, he grew accustomed to having you around. Yes, he was sufficient, but it was about time he learned life wasn’t just about sufficiency and survival. It was also about the more than sufficient things to make it worth living; about enjoying time instead of just steeling himself and powering through adversities.
It was about breathing.
Vergil never thought his heart would be similar to that of a dog, waiting for their family to come home – or maybe that of a child, eagerly expecting their favorite person to arrive. He had plenty of time to learn how to suppress all those feelings and appear as impassive and still as possible, but the only thing he couldn’t do was to control the rate of his heartbeat.
He could mask and lie all he wanted to the outside, but he couldn’t pretend on the inside.
“Hmmm.” He hummed to himself, a little bothered by his own restlessness. It was very unusual, but Vergil had to read the same paragraph a couple of times; his concentration faltering in a way that absolutely displeased him. “Time to move to other activities, then…”
Murmuring to himself, as he got used to doing in his loneliness, Vergil closed the book and left the old tome on a nearby desk, immediately moving to Yamato. Always at arm’s length, his sword was always ready to be used if he ever needed it, no matter the activity – be it cooking, during a stroll or taking a shower: wherever Vergil was, Yamato was close by.
Reading was indeed one of the best ways to occupy his mind and avoid other thoughts, but when that restlessness took over his body, Vergil had to do something a little more physical: and that’s where Yamato would come in. He practiced to perfect his skills to the most polished level, but there was something of meditative in the way Vergil could spend hours repeating the same movements to exhaustion.
Moving meditation, as some would call it. Sometimes, it was too difficult to quiet the mind by just closing his eyes and kneeling completely still – although he did learn how to do exactly that during his time in Hell under Mundus; after all, he was tortured until everything but his spirit broke, and the only thing that made it all bearable was to dissociate his mind from his body, almost as if his soul left for a walk and he could watch everything being done to him as a neutral third party.
Of course, that was far more difficult to do when the torture was psychological rather than physical. But Vergil also had plenty of time to learn how to deal with that.
Whether it was his physical body or his spiritual form, his mind dissociated from his flesh; repeating a few sets of movements and polishing them to perfection always seemed to quiet loud thoughts – or harrowing feelings, both in his body and his heart – with an efficiency that Vergil would forever appreciate.
Mastering Yamato to the peak of its abilities was always one of Vergil’s goals in life: it was his father’s sword, the one Sparda used to seal the gates of Hell, and so an heirloom to be treated with respect and reverence. If he wanted to surpass his own father, the Legendary Dark Knight, Vergil had to wield Yamato with even more dexterity than Sparda did – and that would only happen with training.
He didn’t believe it was something that would have a tangible end, though; Learning is a process for a lifetime, and so Vergil knew he would never stop learning new techniques and polishing what he already knew. But he could do it better than his father, he could hone his skills to a degree no one had achieved before: he just had to keep training and learning.
The weight of Yamato in his hands was always strangely reassuring: his power was tied to his sword, and having it stripped away from him was almost like a death sentence. And, in a way, it was: only when Vergil had Yamato back in his hands he was able to bring himself from the brink of death to a desperate act of survival.
He had to admit, Yamato silenced the desperate beating of his heart and always soothed whatever anxiety he had – only if for a while.
In the middle of the room, Vergil slowly unsheathed the blade, watching as Yamato glistened under the lights. Whenever he would practice in his own mind in order to keep himself distanced from whatever was happening with his physical body, he mustered only a memory of how his sword was – how it felt in his hands, its weight, the roughness of the grip, the texture of the little knots under his fingers, the swiftness of the blade, how perfectly balanced it was around his fingers. It was all from what he remembered, from years of carrying it close to his body so no one would be able to hurt him again.
As his feet moved around the room, Vergil started a few movements – repeating them a few times in a row, with deadly precision. He didn’t know Nero was his son. If he did… He probably wouldn’t have torn his arm apart. Though… What else could have he done? Talked to him, asked for Yamato back, with the hope Nero would believe his words he was his father, back from being kept in Hell for more than twenty years, tortured by his Sparda’s worse enemy? Would Nero believe him and give him that blade, willingly?
If his son was anything like him, he wouldn’t. He would have suspicions, he would’ve called Dante. And, given their history, Vergil had all reasons to believe his brother would’ve ended his life as soon as he laid eyes upon him – after all, it was Dante who defeated him at Temen-ni-gru, it was Dante who killed him as Nelo Angelo. It was logical for Vergil to believe Dante would take advantage of his fragile, crumbling state and finally kill whatever was left of him – Vergil had no reason to believe Dante harbored anything other than hate towards him.
And he had to admit… At that point, he truly believed Dante was the source of all his misfortune.
Only now he could see how rash he was in his youth. How blinded by pain and humiliation he was, how he could have done things differently. Moving his feet slowly, Vergil started repeating a set with seven movements, over and over again – with patience, precision and refinement. He accepted his demonic heritage with pride, but he didn’t know what to do with his human heart. It hurt too much, it bled too much – and he didn’t know how to make it stop. He didn’t have anyone to cradle it, to help him deal with it… He only knew harshness and pain. He only knew the constant taunts of the demons calling him a half-breed, looking down on him, showing contempt for his weakness – his humanity, his putrid human heart, that rot that ran in his veins and made him weak… That trash that would get him killed.
He wasn’t like Dante. He never learned to see that as a source of strength, only of weakness. It was his humanity that made him weak that night, that made those demons pin him down on a grave as a child while tearing his mother apart… It was because he was a half-breed that he wasn’t able to do nothing. Vergil believed, for so long, that if he was a full demon like his father, like Sparda, he would have been able to save her, to save himself. That his half-blood doomed him. He never had the chance to believe it was the thing that saved him, like Dante.
Everyone had all the reason in the world to hate him, and he would never ask for anyone’s forgiveness. After all, he didn’t deserve it. Still repeating those seven movements, Vergil took his time to pay attention to his footwork – one of the most important parts when fighting, to achieve the precision he was known for. He could only hope for some kind of redemption… And the only forgiveness he really needed, was from himself.
That was something he had learned from you – after all, Vergil couldn’t really understand how a human could extend him love after all the things he had done. He believed he could have only death – and that Dante would be in his right to kill him after he came back… But his son was willing to accept him.
In his own way, after fighting Vergil and, quite literally, beating his way into his heart – which Vergil sincerely thought was dead after so much pain.
But Nero did stop Dante. He wouldn’t let Dante and Vergil die: he wanted to know him, his father, Vergil… Even after everything he did. It wasn’t a forgiveness, but the redemption he thought he never deserved. And then, Dante followed him all the way into Hell, to “help” Vergil undo what he had done – something that was his only responsibility and that Dante didn’t need to help him carry. It would be right to have it be a punishment for his wayward actions, but… Dante was to human to punish his brother.
Dante accepted him. Vergil was very aware his presence in Hell with him to cut down the Qliphoth was a choice, not a duty – Dante would say it was to keep an eye in Vergil, but he did know it was for him not to lose himself again. It was for them to be together, because Dante wanted Vergil to be around; he didn’t want to kill him.
And Vergil didn’t want to kill his brother either. He might have said it out loud and be out for blood when they were younger, but, deep down… In his human heart, the only thing Vergil ever wanted was to prove himself.
Repeating the same movements again, now he focused on his hands – how his wrists moved and how he could make the swinging of his sword more fluid and powerful. Vergil had spent so much time drowning in that feeling of worthlessness, of being less because of his half-breed blood, of not being worthy of protection as a child, that he would burn the whole world just to make it go away.
And even if he did, it wouldn’t go away. He would still feel less: his mother wasn’t there to tell him he was worthy of being saved and protected, his father wasn’t there to tell him his half-blood wasn’t a weakness but a strength… His brother wasn’t there to tell him his mother did try to save him and he didn’t deserve to die. Vergil could kill Mundus, he could become Emperor, he could make all demons kneel and bend to his will… He would still have that hole in his chest; that void that told him he would never be enough.
“The only one you need to seek forgiveness from, is yourself.”
You had told him that.
Furrowing his brows, Vergil’s movements became sharper, even if he tried to keep the same flow, steady and swift. Those seven movements. Over and over. Sharper and sharper as his mind kept wandering. It was a quiet afternoon where you both were the only ones around: Vergil reading a philosophy book you recommended, while you spent your time developing your skills with watercolors on a little sketchbook you rested on your thighs – your back on the side of the couch while your legs rested over his, and Vergil kept one of his hands mindlessly drawing a few, slow patterns on your calf.
As always, he mentioned something interesting he had just read; something he would know you would appreciate having a little discussion, ideas you could tell each other and hear how your different minds gave it different interpretations – and, maybe, find new perspectives you hadn’t initially thought of. Something both of you appreciated deeply and would never shy away from – and Vergil loved talking to you. As you both had that conversation, he quietly introduced the theme of forgiveness; indicating, indirectly, his own beliefs that he was completely undeserving of it… And he did not understand how someone like you could extend love to someone like him.
And so, you told Vergil: the only one that had to forgive him, was himself. His punishment would never be over, his pain and the suffering in his heart would never quiet until he was able to forgive himself: his young, reckless, foolish self; that boy who pursued power to the farthest of consequences, the one whose heart was bleeding so much, he locked it away around an armor of hubris and harshness. That child, who would deem himself so cold, but would act so impulsively, his own actions would be his doom. That young boy, so arrogant and hurt, he thought there was no place for him among humans, and that a death by the hands of his father’s worse enemy would be better than a pitiful life begging for some love – so, so arrogant, it would never cross his mind that demons had none of his honor and wouldn’t give him a good, honorable death; only an eternity of pain and humiliation, forever paying for his rashness and hubris.
Could he ever forgive himself for being so naive? So stupid, so blind…? Vergil always tried to think highly of himself – after all, he was reminded every day he was too rotten to be a human, and too impure to be a demon; a lesser being, no matter where he was, in which world he lived. He didn’t belong: constantly reminded he was nothing but trash… So someone had to remind him he was worth something. But could he forgive the path his bleeding heart and proud soul made him tread…?
Vergil’s eyebrows furrowed further, while his hand held the grip of Yamato even tighter – more than he should to wield it. Indeed, you were right: the only one that had to forgive him was himself; and he didn’t know if he could do it. But…
You did tell him something else. “You have to know, you did the best you could with what you had, what you been through, and who you were at that moment.”
It made him wonder, if he could have done anything differently. Vergil mulled over your words for months, and over his own actions.
Could things have been different? Would he be able to do something differently, with all that he had at those moments…? All the pain, all the knowledge, all the hatred, all the anger. Would he be able to act differently? Did he really do the best…?
At the time, he thought he did. Vergil followed the path he thought was best for him; chased the power he thought he needed to have to feel safe, to feel worthy. He didn’t really have anyone by his side telling him to do it differently – in a matter of fact, he had no one. And that was something pivotal to how he developed his beliefs over the years… That boy he was; he couldn’t do anything differently, with his heart bleeding in his hands and his soul desperate for some safety.
And even though he knew that, even though he could extend sympathy for that young reckless hurt child… Vergil had a hard time extending it to himself.
“It is a long journey”, you told him. “One you have to take one day at a time.”
And he could… But when he was alone, left to his own mind and his own devices… It seemed a little more difficult not to fall back into old patterns, beliefs and repetitive thoughts.
The practice with Yamato, then, became instrumental – and that was what he would always do; especially when he didn’t have you to run for some rescue with love and understanding. Vergil learned to accept softness, but only from a select group of people – and that was mostly from you.
The repetitive movement of his hands and feet, masterfully wielding his sword and perfecting every inch that could be slightly wrong, was to keep a creeping feeling away from taking hold of his heart – but it seemed that, every time his thoughts became aware the feeling was there and he wanted to avoid it, it just became bigger and bigger, until his mind couldn’t keep it at bay anymore.
More than one week was too much for you and Lady. He knew both of you, and he had to recognize Lady’s skill as a hunter; same as your skill. A simple work like that should have been completed in no time, and you should be home already.
But everything was silence. No word from you, no call… Not even a feeling. All Vergil had was that stir in his heart, telling him something was wrong – he wouldn’t try to explain it to anyone else, for the only one who could understand it was his son: whenever you were in trouble, his heart would sway, and he knew.
It didn’t feel like trouble this time, but rather… Emptiness. A restless emptiness, that bothered him, chewed the edges of his heart until he would feel his chest tightening. If you were near, Vergil would run to you; to wipe those feelings away, to keep you close, in his vicinity where whatever it was that hurt you couldn’t get to you anymore. He would do it quietly and surely, not allowing that to linger a moment further – and having you back to safety.
Changing his movements, Vergil added a few more strikes to his seven movement routine – striking with more strength, his eyes focused on his imaginary enemy with the coldness of a shard of ice. His heart was restless, eagerly awaiting for your return like a loyal dog, for that creeping feeling gnawing at the edges of his consciousness was a fear he never wanted to look in its ugly face – the fear you wouldn’t come back home.
Not because you didn’t want to and decided to leave him – Vergil could and would accept that, for it was the most logical thing to do given you insanely decided to love a monster. But because you didn’t survive a job that was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined – and he wasn’t there to save you. With all his power, with all he sacrificed and he did over the years to become who he was… You would have perished because he wasn’t there.
Vergil’s steps became faster and his movements harsher; still repeating. Over. And over. And over. Again. And Again. And Again. And he would do it until his hands started bleeding.
The thought of you not returning… He couldn’t even imagine what would happen. Vergil liked to think he would be able to retain his humanity, but that was only him fooling himself. He knew it would damn his human heart. If he lost anyone he loved at this point in his life… The world would burn. Because Vergil would be no more, and nothing would be left. Not even his demonic instinct, for it was also part of his heart and it did care deeply about them; about you. What would be left, would be a husk: a shadow of himself, devoid of everything; Filled only by emptiness, heart eaten by void, soul engulfed in pure darkness…
Nelo Angelo.
The last strike of that string of movements was harsh enough to cut through the air and create a long indentation on the wall – making some of its pieces crumble on the floor, leaving a line at least two meters long.
Vergil frowned, anchoring himself back into the present. The meditation was supposed to help, not to let his mind wander through that fanged anxiety that was chewing his heart open. It was supposed to calm him, to quiet him, to ground him.
Vergil closed his eyes, slowly sheathing Yamato while taking a long, deep breath. The familiar clique of the guard hitting the sheathe did help unscramble his thoughts from his troubled heart; Maybe it was time to take his boots off and physically feel things that could bring him back to that moment – the slight chill of the wood, the texture of the battered ground, the hardness of the pavement… Senses he could focus on and tell him that his mind was wandering too much; Through realities that he didn’t even know if they would come to pass.
Things only his foolish heart could feel.
But Vergil shot his head up and opened his eyes at the exact moment he heard the familiar metallic noise of someone handling the doorknob – and there was only one person who opened the door that way, with that sound.
You were home.
The faint smile on his lips and the soothing wave that finally silenced his heart didn’t last too long; for soon Vergil saw your face and the shadow that appeared to linger over your eyes.
Your eyes, that always seemed to carry so much light – a light he once heard his son mentioning he forever saw in his lover, Kyrie, that guided his heart towards the correct path. Vergil only understood when he saw that glimmer in you, shining brightly deep inside your eyes – almost like a secret, only to be seen by a select few; and you graced him with the honor to be one of those. Vergil could understand the words of his son…
And that light, seemed to be overcast by a quite unusual fog of darkness at the moment.
You barely noticed Vergil was there – and, if you did, you probably didn’t acknowledge it; almost as if your mind was far away while you came in, carrying your handbag, and locked the door behind you. He didn’t take it as you ignoring him, but rather as being so disconnected from reality, you didn’t even notice what was going on around you.
“Welcome home.” His voice was quiet and dark as always, but it seemed to be enough to snap you back into reality. As soon as your eyes met him, your expression softened a bit, with a slight smile on the corner of your lips.
“Hello, love.” Even then, Vergil couldn’t refrain from noticing how stiff your smile looked, and how your eyebrows still seemed to carry a sort of worry. Softened, yes, but not gone – masking your discomfort, as he knew quite well you were proficient at.
“I’m glad you are back.” He walked towards you, as you did the same – Vergil already meaning to reach out for your handbag.
“I’m glad to be home.” When you got to him, though, it was as if you hadn’t even noticed his hand; reaching out for a kiss.
He would never deny affection whenever you sought for it – but Vergil was proficient in noticing every faint detail you either did mindlessly out of habit, or you did out of trying to hide something deep within yourself. The way your lips slightly trembled against his, a little too stiff, too contained for the kisses you would usually offer him, told Vergil today was the later.
“Something is bothering you.” His voice was almost a murmur as you separated your lips from his; already knowing in your heart there was very little you could hide from him.
As always, Vergil wouldn’t ask. He would state, waiting for you to eventually be comfortable enough to talk about it – confident in his skills of reading his loved ones, as he was in reading his enemies during a fight.
“It’s nothing.” You closed your eyes, sighing with a small smile on his lips. It was actually quite naive of you to think you could hide from those ever attentive silvery eyes. “I’m tired, Vergil. That’s all. I need some time to… Recollect.”
Your choice of words certainly made him more puzzled – evidenced by the way he furrowed his brows. Recollect was different than rest, and you rarely used words carelessly. In a matter of fact, when you used a word like that, it usually was very much attached to its meaning; something Vergil would always appreciate.
“Hmmm…” And, even if you tried to dismiss him, Vergil quietly moved his free hand over yours, holding the handbag with a silent request for you to let go and let him carry it. And let go you did, as he towered behind you, following your every step, as your very own demon of death. “Interesting choice of words.”
“I thought you would appreciate it.” Your answer, though, had a smile on your voice that didn’t mirror back to your lips – entering your room, your heart was torn between taking a shower or resting on your bed; and, if you were to be honest, you didn’t really know what to do. “You are worrying too much, Vergil, I can see it in your eyes. But you don’t have to…” As soon as you said that, you turned around and found him less than one foot away from you; still closely following his beloved. There was something of adorable in that. “I’m just tired. I am human after all, and it was a… Trying week.”
“Trying…?” He raised his eyebrows, still following you with that predator gaze – the one Vergil always seemed to wear whenever he was paying attention. He wasn’t doing that to hunt you, though, but out of all the worry that pooled around his heart… He didn’t really know how to wear a different kind of gaze. “From what I remember, Lady didn’t expect it to be a difficult job.”
“Hmmm. It wasn’t necessarily difficult…” You sighed while taking off your boots and leaving them in the corner of the room you both usually left your shoes. Vergil did notice you leaned on the wall to keep your balance… And to keep your back towards him – not allowing him to look into your eyes. “It was… Exhausting. I can’t explain it better.”
“Huh.” As soon as you heard him, though, it was like a cube of ice going down your spine. You knew quite well when your lover didn’t believe your words – when he knew you were lying. And you could bet he noticed you were avoiding his eyes so he wouldn’t be able to read you further – like one of his books. “Now that is a lie.”
And you could always count on Vergil to be starkly honest about it.
You appreciated it. But sometimes, like in that day, you absolutely loathed it.
“You know your way around words…” As he spoke, Vergil approached you, having left your handbag at the foot of the bed. You slowly turned around – meeting your blue devil calmly walking towards you… And you had to wonder if his enemies felt like that when he cornered them. “I find it hard to believe you can’t find the ones to talk to me.”
You sighed, closing your eyes. Vergil wasn’t easy to fool, only when he lost his temper and anger was boiling inside his chest. When he had his head back in place, though… The mask that you were so used to wearing was useless.
“I don’t want to worry you, Vergil. You don’t have to.” You opened your eyes, looking back into his silvery gaze. This time, though, you decided not to run from it anymore – he had already noticed, so there was no point in hiding or trying to maintain that cracked mask anymore. “You don’t have to carry more than you already have in your shoulders; I can do it by myself. And I don’t want to bother you with things that are leaving my heart restless. They will eventually wash away, I just need… Some time.”
“Time...” Once again, he frowned – that shadow Vergil carried over his eyes darkening his gaze even more. It was, though, different from the one he wore when hunting demons; this one was a shadow of worry, of debating what to do in that situation: born out of care, not of blood. “If you need me, I am here.”
And that looming presence he always was, turned around, making his way to the bed. If there was one thing you would forever be grateful for, was that Vergil understood your need for space – especially regarding sharing your feelings. He would never force you to do something you weren’t comfortable, but he would leave a path open for you to find him when you were ready.
Something you always did to him as well.
“You can talk, if you want to.” He stopped a few steps away from the bed, almost looking over his shoulder as he always did, his back still turned to you. “I’ll listen.”
Ever so quietly, Vergil resumed his steps and sat by the end of the bed, right on the edge, so he could finally take off his boots. You observed him as he undid every buckle on the side of his right leg – calmly, as a daily ritual of his, of getting dressed and undressed. It was one of his little meditations, repetitive small acts of his mundane life that grounded Vergil in reality and quieted his heart – and the demons that lived in the darkest corners; the nightmares that lingered forever in stillness until they decided to take hold of his soul whenever he wasn’t in full control of himself.
You couldn’t stop yourself from frowning. You knew that underneath that quiet demeanor, Vergil had a storm raging in his heart and mind that, sometimes, could not be contained – and he did by taking small steps; small actions, every day, steady but surely… Little meditations that helped him survive, as he did during his time in Hell.
If there was someone in this world that could help with that void eating at the edges of your heart, that someone was Vergil.
Quietly, you approached the bed. Vergil didn’t look at you: he kept on with his task of unbuckling his boots and taking them off to rest by his side. Even so, it wasn’t that he didn’t notice, it was something that he always did not to scare you away – no intrusive stares, no pressuring availability: only a quiet presence, ready to be by your side while you told him what was weighing your mind.
“I…” As you sat by his side, you started trying to find the correct words… Even though you didn’t even know where to begin. “This week… It was horrible.”
Silence lingered between you as Vergil slowly stopped his task of taking off his boots and turned all his attention towards you. It had no expectation: only a quiet look that waited, so you could find what you were searching for.
“We are used to seeing demons doing the most horrid things, but… This time…” As you spoke, Vergil couldn’t refrain from frowning: the more you tried to tell him, the more it seemed that light of yours he loved so much would never sparkle in your eyes again.
And he tried to ignore the fear that settled at the base of his stomach, almost as a still creature that would never leave. He would never stop loving you, no matter how overcast your heart became, but he did wonder… What manner of horror you had to see to engulf your soul in darkness.
“You deem yourself a devil, Vergil. That there’s no light left in you, only darkness and destruction…” You sighed, looking down at some lost spot on the floor, trying to bring into words the turmoil inside your chest. Vergil furrowed his brows further, your words taking him by surprise – something you could only read in his eyes, since he always managed to control his body so well not to show his emotions. “I don’t think you have seen true evil, then. True darkness. It’s a bottomless pit filled with muck, staining everything that it touches.”
The despise in your voice could only be compared to his, when Vergil deemed whoever he was talking to as an utterly inferior creature – usually demons, but he met many humans that deserved that tone as well. Your words, though, did catch him by surprise: after all, he was tortured by the Emperor of Hell, in the lowest of its pits. He knew true evil.
“You’re… You’re an angel compared to that. You have morals, standards. You wanted power to feel safe, not to abuse others... And now, you use it to protect the ones you love. Evil doesn’t know love. You do.”
Vergil turned his gaze to the empty spot on the floor you kept staring so intently, now lost in his own thoughts while crossing his arms in his usual pensive demeanor – and all he could think about was what was the horror you witnessed that week to have you thinking so highly of him.
For all effects and purposes, by human standards, he was a monster. Irredeemable, even, to some people. What he did as Urizen… Even if he wasn’t whole, if he as both halves of himself would probably have reconsidered the use of the Qliphoth – or, at the very least, taken into account destroying an entire city and sacrificing so many lives for his own personal gain – it was still an action to be considered his; the responsibility for what Urizen had done still rested in his hands, since it came from part of his heart, part of his mentality that kept him moving through his whole cursed life: that only the strong survived and if he didn’t do everything within his reach to become the most powerful demon that ever lived, he would always be at mercy of someone more powerful. Someone like Mundus.
That strict, harsh view of the world led him to irredeemable actions – and its consequences. Nowadays, he would’ve never raised the Qliphoth, he wouldn’t have doomed an entire city and its people just so he could feel safe. But he couldn’t go back on what he had done – he could only try to make up for his wayward actions; to pay for the dark, unforgivable soul he had inside of him and not hope for forgiveness, but for some kind of redemption – however it looked like.
And now, here you were, saying he was closer to an angel than a demon.
“There were no demons in this job.” Your voice carried a sharp coldness Vergil never heard from your lips, having him immediately snap out of his ever spiraling thoughts. “All those horrible crimes, those teens and children missing… No demons. Only humans.” There was an edge of a growl to your last word, as if you despised that kind of humanity as much as you loathed demons – that made Vergil raise his brows; he had never heard you speaking on that tone. “And I killed them. All of them.” It was a death sentence: the wrathful emptiness of a soul who faced horror and decided to put an end to it. “They weren’t humans in my book.”
You kept staring at the same lost spot on the floor, the only inflection of emotion residing in how quietly sharp you sounded. Vergil turned his silver eyes back to you, now with his jaw tense besides his furrowed brows.
If the sins of humans were comparable to that of demons, he deemed them demons too – and Vergil knew quite well some humans could be worse than demons. In his eyes, what you did was justice and he always would stand by that. But he also knew that was the kind of justice it didn’t resolve in your heart, it weighed you down.
“In arcane teachings, everything is powered by energy. And most energy is fueled by emotions.” His voice was careful, as always; slow, as Vergil found the correct words to explain his thoughts: his speech was always intentional, unless when his twin made him lose his temper. “You know the most powerful of spells are those that burn along with the strongest of emotions. We usually harness them, keep them for later, as fuel to be used when we need them the most. But when we burn…” He let out a deep sigh, correcting his posture and looking back at you. Vergil knew quite well what was like not being able to hold back on your feelings and lash out – and he also knew the aftermath. “Great deeds come from it… But it also depletes us completely.”
“Hmmm. That’s exactly how I feel…” Now it was your turn to furrow your brows, surveying that turmoil inside your heart. “Depleted. Empty. Like…”
You still searched for words. It was as if there was a fog inside your head and you had to chase in the corners of your mind to string them properly and explain how you were feeling. Luckily, you had Vergil by your side, waiting patiently and quietly, but also knowing exactly which words you were hunting down.
“Like your energy has been taken away from you and it is scattered around; for everyone else to make use of it but yourself.” He completed your thoughts after waiting a few seconds – and your eyes finally jolted back to his: now with the gentleness of someone who is being seen for the very first time.
Although it did soothe his heart, if only just a little. He appreciated your sharp look, yes, but he did adore the softness you reserved only for him.
“I…” And as you stared into his eyes, you only found patience and knowing: Vergil wasn’t going anywhere. There was no rush to figure things out, to fix them and to keep going. Everything was still; as still as your lover sitting right by your side, arms crossed, open to listen for an eternity, if you were to need it. “I don’t know what I need. I just know I’m tired. Not physically, but…”
“Inside.” Vergil nodded slowly, recognizing things he had felt before and still harbored in himself. Days like the one you were going through were hard, and sometimes could extend to weeks if you didn’t care for yourself. “You have to go back to yourself. Take some time.”
You just glared back at him: both of you weren’t exactly known for being gentle with your feelings and stopping for some rest.
“You’re one to talk.”
“I know, love.” Vergil let out a quiet giggle while slightly shaking his head – he knew he was giving advice he himself would ignore depending on the situation. “But I also know sometimes I can’t keep going without recollecting myself. When your heart is numb and your body is exhausted, it leads to… Imprudent decisions.” Vergil took a deep breath – and the eyes you found now had a certain vulnerability he would always reserve to you. “Grounding is what kept me alive, during days there was nothing to do but wait. My body and mind broke, but not my spirit. And you cannot let yours break.”
“Hmmm. That’s why you meditate so much.” As you spoke, Vergil once again slowly nodded, with a faint smile on the corner of his lips. “I… Don’t know if that would help. It feels like… I can’t feel anything at all, but exhaustion. As strange as it sounds, even sleeping sounds tiring – and that I can’t explain better.”
Vergil had to turn a smart, side-eye gaze to you, recognizing how you were referring back to when he pointed out there were very few things you couldn’t explain and you were just lying to avoid him. You didn’t have a smile on your face, but you did look slightly more peaceful than when you entered home that night – and that he could read as a good thing.
Your light wasn’t gone, it was just muted. Suddenly, that fear that settled at the base of his stomach crawled back to the depths of his soul where it came from – not lost forever but safely locked away, for the time being.
“One step at a time.”
And that was one of the rare moments you could see in Vergil’s lips a small smile – hidden like a ghost, one only a medium like you could identify in the haunted structure that he was.
You only smiled back and, with a deep sigh, you closed your eyes and rested your head on his shoulder. If you had your eyes opened, you would be able to see that now, that ghost was an entire apparition, while he silently awaited for you to grow tired of his presence.
*
If you had to walk small steps, then that was what you were going to do – and that was why you were taking your time to feel the water on your face, as you slowly did your evening bathroom routine.
It was actually Vergil who pushed you – gently, you had to note – to refresh yourself, put on some comfortable clothes and try to start winding down; and so, you decided to do it as one of his small, mundane meditations he always did.
Strangely helpful and soothing, that you had to note. Taking your time to do things, instead of always rushing as if you had an appointment you were already running late, gradually worked on grounding you back into that moment. Your heart seemed to be beating again, and that unfeeling void in your chest didn’t look anymore like a monster that would never go away.
Expecting to find Vergil in your room, you exited the bathroom with the words already at the tip of your tongue to state how much his advice ended up helping – even if just a little.
But he was nowhere to be seen.
“Vergil…?” You now wore a slight frown, quickly searching the room with your eyes only to find nothing.
Until a sweet scent reached you from the outside of the bedroom.
Intriguing, to say the very least. You left your used clothes folded on the bed, following that rich, and almost dark, sugary scent. You barely noticed how focusing on that seemed to slowly bring your heart back, with each step allowing itself to feel a little bit more, to be present once more.
And even more intriguing than the scent, was your find: Vergil in the kitchen, his eyes focused but with a tinge of tiredness – of someone who spent a whole week wasting energy on worrying and was now feeling the toll of it – carefully pouring some hot chocolate inside two fancy porcelain teacups; painted with flowers and golden filigrees, your favorite ones.
“Oh. I didn’t know that was in the Dark Slayer’s extensive roster of abilities.” You had to point it out. After all, you knew the first time Vergil ever drank some hot chocolate again was when you made him some – the last time being when Eva did it, during his childhood.
“It is a secret one.” He didn’t turn his eyes to you, but you could see that ghost of a smile hidden in the corners of his words. You would always appreciate how Vergil seemed so gentle around you, in his own way. “Reserved only to a few.”
With that, he finally turned to you by his side, offering one of the teacups. You couldn’t refrain a genuine smile to softly color your lips upon noticing he offered you the one with a plethora of purple flowers while he kept the one with the blue flowers to himself.
“Careful. It’s hot.”
Vergil didn’t have to point it out, for you were always cautious with your teacups – especially when their contents were too warm – but he did it anyway. As you both leaned on the kitchen counter side by side, you held the cup near your lips, blowing on it to cool the chocolate a little bit.
“I learned plenty from watching my father while he trained.” Vergil’s voice was quiet, almost as if his words were for your ears only and he didn’t want to risk it falling in the wrong ones. “We do learn a lot from observing the ones we love.”
This time, the smile spreading on your lips was a little more colorful, and you could feel a golden wave taking over your chest – that horrible void that had been suffocating you through the whole week finally being defeated by something else… Something better. Vergil wasn’t one to speak his feelings and make himself vulnerable out loud, but he was one to imply so only the most attentive ones would notice.
You were very well attuned to your lover to understand. He never really watched Eva in the kitchen when he was a child, only a few times; but never with enough attention on what she was doing, but on her: the lullaby she hummed, the way she smiled at him – and then, eventually, she would tell him to go outside play with his brother or read one of his books instead of wasting his time there with her. He always wished he had wasted more time with her, but that was something he couldn’t go back to.
When the taste of the chocolate hit your tongue, you closed your eyes. It tasted almost exactly like the way you did it, with a slight spin of Vergil’s own touch to the recipe. To know you were loved enough to be carefully observed by your lover, in a caring manner that made him know exactly how you did things without ever needing to ask you…
The numbness in your heart was being slowly fought away, by a silent angel of death that stood by your side with an immobile certainty he would always be there, no matter how hard – or harrowing – the storm.
“Thank you, Vergil.” Your voice was a whisper, as your lips left the porcelain – and your eyes were kept shut, as the storm in your heart started overflowing. This time, though, out of being seen… And utterly adored. “I am glad we found each other, to have you in my life… And that you exist.”
As you laid your head on his shoulder once again, still keeping your rainfall eyes closed, it was Vergil’s turn to close his.
But just like you, he couldn’t stop his silvery glaciers from melting down his face.
Neither his ghostly smile from becoming another rather beautiful apparition.
*
“I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz, or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as one loves certain obscure things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom, but carries the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself, and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose from the earth lives dimly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where; I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love, except in this form in which I am not nor are you, so close that your hand upon my chest is mine, so close that your eyes close with my dreams.”
Wanted to share what I've been plugging away on lately. The DMC fic is coming along nicely in editing and I'm pretty proud of what I got so far.
I swear these two goofballs were meant to be siblings XD
One would have thought that destroying that damned tree and sealing the breach would have had some kind of effect. But apparently even that was too much to hope for…
Nothing was ever easy, but something had to be done. He had a family to worry about, after all...
Not that they seem to even care, Nero thought bitterly, jaw clenching as he thought back to that moment on the Qliphoth. That feeling of despair and abandonment gripping him as the twins took a flying leap right back out of his life. He'd thrown himself into his work after that, focusing as much as he could on his family and friends when jobs weren't running him ragged, but it always had a way of coming back around. Gnawing at his mind...
It wasn't until Kyrie caressed his face one evening and softly whispered, "Nero... Please. This will not make it better." That he realized that something had to give.
Which was why he was here, in what felt like the ass end of nowhere, rocketing at a classic "mach fuck you" down a coastal highway to meet with a mysterious “expert on shit like this,” as Nico liked to put it. An old acquaintance of her precious Granny Goldstein, apparently. One who had, ostensibly at least, kept in contact throughout the years despite the lauded trappings of a strictly nomadic lifestyle.
Though going by her description... It didn't seem promising...
Because didn’t Agnus kind of count as a wizard or alchemist or whatever? he wondered, sighing loudly for what was probably the umpteenth time as he rubbed his brows. He was starting to get a headache from all this ruminating. And look how well that turned out for him.
“Goddamn! Would you. Shut. Up,” Nico drawled, stubbing out her cigarette in the overfull ashtray that he'd told her to empty out over a week ago. The still smoking stub tumbling out as she jerked the wheel to get back in their lane after she passed a slower moving car. “You been sighin' like some lovesick teenager for hours now. S'gettin’ on my nerves.”
“Well gee. I’m sorry," Nero began, irritation making him snarky, "I’m just sighing! What? I can’t sigh?!" He threw his hands into the air, groaning as he leaned back in the chair and silently entreated some kind of higher power he knew didn't exist for saintly patience. A deficit, he feared that was probably genetic."Maybe, if you were a little more transparent about what the fuck we are doing, I wouldn't be freaking out about the end of the world over here."
"Yer such a worrywart," she grumbled right back, taking a swig from a nearby water canteen that he definitely knew had more than just water in it. Could smell it through the unwashed funk of the interior cabin and whatever else they had stewing like a rotten boot in the back. "And how the hell should I know? S'not like I was 'inducted into the deeper mysteries,'" she said, voice turning deep and somewhat sultry in imitation of someone, before switching back to her regular country twang, "—or however the fuck yer supposed to say it. We haven't exactly talked much since I was a kid, yanno."
He rolled his eyes. "I just have my doubts okay?" Nero crossed his arms, trying to close his eyes in the hopes that maybe if he fell asleep, this whole stupid trip would be done and over with by the time he woke up. "I mean really, who calls themselves a sorcerer these days?” he growled under his breath.
Which, unfortunately, didn't go unnoticed by his partner, who he swore at times had bat-like hearing. “Sorceress, thank you very much!" Nico snapped, giving his shoulder a rebuking backhand followed by a poke, with several more rapid fire pokes to follow. "And what’s wrong with that, huh? S’not like you were comin' up with any better ideas.”
Waving her invading finger away like the annoying fly it was, Nero groaned, regretting ever bringing it up. “Yeah, yeah... Whatever. Let's just drop it, alright?"
He would have left it at that, but was promptly interrupted by Nico leaning over and slugging him hard on the arm.
"Ow! Geez! What was that for?!" he barked, even though it didn't hurt in the least—it was more the principle of the matter. He squirmed in his seat as she persisted in trying to poke him again, this time brandishing a wooden pointer that was carved to look like a creepy, desiccated hand.
He'd gifted it to her as a sort of gag present for her birthday, partly because she was always complaining about being unable to scratch her own back while she was driving and partly because its "pointer" was in the shape of a middle finger. Hilarious! It fit her to a "T."
Unfortunately, he obviously hadn't taken into account that she'd weaponize the damn thing to menace him.
"Stop. Being. Such a. Debbie. Doubter!" she growled, lunging at him. Punctuating each following word with a sharp jab; weaving chaotically between lanes as she tried her damnedest to get him. Leaning over the center aisle, her persistent jabbing missing more times than not.
"Will. You. Fucking—" A boxy shape manifested out of the corner of his eye, and he whirled. "NICO EYES ON THE ROAD!"
Whooping, she swerved just as a semi came roaring by, its horns blaring at full blast as the gust of its passing rattled the driver's side windows and shook the chassis.
And Nero, now plastered halfway up the inner wall of the vehicle with his devil bringer wing-claws poking holes in the upholstery, released the breath he'd been holding. The tension in his body unspooling like a released spring as he sunk back into his chair, wings dissipating in a flicker of blue sparks; and wondered—not for the first time—where the hell she even learned how to drive.
Because at this point, he was about ninety percent certain that she hadn't actually received her driver's license. Not legally, at least.
