#Vergil may be confused but he's got the spirit

[of-pale]

Nero hated the mundane task of checking Devil May Cry's e-mails, but they lived in the 21st century for crying out loud. If your business didn't exist on the internet, it might as well not exist at all. Slogging through dull e-mails just comes with the territory and someone had to do it. Not like Dante would. And Vergil... Well...

Nero: I wish spam mail wasn't a thing. It’s already a pain in the ass to figure out if there's a potential customer with a real problem or if it's a fluke.

Vergil:

Vergil: What's the sender's address?

Nero: Uhhh… john.smith@-

Vergil: No, the address.

Nero: What you mean?

Vergil: Last time I checked, deliveries have both, the recipients and the senders address on them.

Nero: … Wait, you're talking about an actual, physical mail?

Vergil: What else am I talking about? *pulls out the Yamato* Now let us put an end to this unsolicited spam mailing problem.

[corvidcircus]

A little birdie told me you're open for some requests, so here's some timeless classic: DMC boys with half-angel reader! Haven't seen those in a looooong while, and I'm a sucker for the whole angel-demon dynamic. Just please don't make them crystal pure saint, sheepish type. I'd much rather have reader to be fun, with zeal for adventure, some warrior spirit and good sense of humor, but still very kind.

It's all up to you though! Hope your muse will respond soon and thanks in advance <3

Anon, you have opened a very large can if worms for me, I thank you.

There will be several parts of this as I have so many thoughts about this; but we're gonna start with some bullet points so you aren't waiting a month.

The Basics

(i think) angels in the DMC universe are similar to the angels in bayonetta

that none of them are the classic 'fair-skinned pretty woman with white wings'

angels are messengers of God, sure, but they are also warriors

i'll expand on this in another post, bc it's nephilim time baybee

angel hybrids, like, demonic hybrids, are very disliked by both demonic and angelic beings

i think theyres only a couple of angels that would a. have enough contact with humans to have offspring and b. would be humanoid enough that people wouldn't go blind or insane upon meeting one

so nephilim come in three flavors, messenger, watcher, and guardian

messenger nephilim are the offspring of angels sent to the human world to deliver information, and then return to the celestial world

watcher nephilim come from angels stationed in the human world that report goings on, but rarely intervene (but are OP when they're allowed to)

guardian nephilim are related to the angels who act as warriors, and are therefore, very powerful fighters who enter and exit the human world as they please (also includes archangels)

nephilim inherit traits from their angel parent, some abilities, some physical features, but they always inherit the free will of their human parent

The Sparda Twins

Dante

boi never believed in angels before he met you

was a little annoyed at first, because, why the fuck haven't they been helping?

did they not notice the demon world opening? or the massive blood-sucking tree?

would likely end up with a watcher or guardian nephilim, based on his lifestyle

almost got bisected the first time you fought demons with him, he was way too busy watching you kick ass to be fighting efficiently

would be confused, and then jokingly offended if a demon went after you first

truthfully it worries him, asks nico about a way to hide your angelic nature from demons and angels

would understand if you didn't want to join DMC, he gets the gig isn't for everyone

amazed by any angelic features you have, treats them with utmost care

angel puns for days

"did it hurt when you fell from heaven, babe?" "i was born here dipshit"

calls you angel based names to tease you

loves your sass, entirely encourages it

if you have wings, will fly with you in sin form

is a very fun teacher, but it could take a while to get there

lets you beat him at sparring most of the time. he doesn't think you know. you know.

very proud of your strength

"this is my S/O. they can kick your ass. they can kick my ass. it's amazing."

Vergil

guardian nephilim all the way

seems rather hostile toward you at first, like, more than the usual level

(eventually admits that it's because your existence proves angels chose to let the day of the fire, and everything it led to, happen the way it did)

you may meet by fighting him, or fighting with him

it'll take a while for him to accept what he feels for you, so much so that you might have to make the first move

secretly likes that you don't just back down immediately if he challenges you

obviously intrigued by your skill as a warrior, and doubly so by any angelic ability you have

has many questions about angels and the celestial world

un-ironically calls you angel, seraph, and other names

would be quite confused as to why you would not want to kill demons as a profession

would be actively offended if a demon chose to attack you first

sees it as an attack on his mate, and his pride as a Son of Sparda

might look into the arcane arts to keep you off the radar of angels if you worry

trains with you, don't expect him to hold back in fighting or critique, but is a very fair teacher

enjoys the vicious streak you show while protecting others

will do anything for you, but knows you are kind and smart enough not to make him

values your council, especially when you help him realize he's being foolish

absolutely fascinated by whatever angelic features you have, treats them with care

"my angel can and will destroy you."

[butcherknives]

The Holidays with the Sparda Men

Prompt kinda got away from me and became more of a pre-game than an actual holiday moment, but hopefully it’s fun and enjoyable all the same.

Ft. GN! Reader from the Devil May Cry series

> SFW

At first you believe that holidays aren’t exactly his “thing.” That it’s painted by a religion that isn't his, and it’s too bathed in traditionalism where Dante is anything but, between his attitude, his appearance, and his lifestyle. You think this, yet as the holidays grow closer, you notice that his mood seems to weaken and crumble. He isn’t irritable or sour. No, that isn’t it at all. You know Dante and his facades; this you recognize as depression.

You live within your perplexity only for a short time before you decide to ask. Side by side on the worn leather couch, your knee pressed against his as he reclines in a languid arch, you pose your observation with as much tact as you can muster. “You seem down.”

Without turning his head, his eyes slide toward you. He sweeps over your expression and you can feel the way he’s analyzing – likely approximating what you’ve gleaned. With quiet huff though his nose, he closes his eyes and leans his head back. “Well, damn. And here I thought I was the embodiment of ole Saint Nick.”

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

The silence that stretches is full of rumination. Dante is weighing his options, isn’t he? Considering if it’s worth telling you the truth. Your heart hammers in your chest as he measures you, weighs you, and finds you...

“I always feel kinda eh around the holidays.”

...worthy.

You wait with hopeful patience, quelling your thoughts and over-eager questions because there’s a physical shift, one there beneath the immediate surface, that tells you he has more to say. You rest your hand on his thigh and tip forward, attempting to remain a source of comfort.

He cracks one eye open to peek at you. The look you offer makes him sigh, sit up, and shake his head on a roll of his shoulders. “I guess it reminds me of my family. You know, sad little boy stuff.”

Oh.

What had the holidays been like before tragedy? And what had they been like prior to your arrival? You simmer on this for perhaps too long because Dante is visibly retreating into himself with that sideways, self-deprecating smile that warns you precisely where he’s about to bury his emotions. You rise to your feet. “Your family!”

He tips his head, lips flattening into pulled confusion-mirth-weariness that makes you switch your hips on a sheepish laugh.

“Yeah,” you continue. “What about your family?” The light has yet to click on. You continue with swelling emotion. “Vergil and Nero? And Lady, and Trish...” You bounce on the balls of your feet. “We could invite them over and do something fun. Like... Like a party.”

There’s slow realization dawning like the sunrise across Dante’s face and it’s equal in beauty. The sparkle in his eyes; the smile curling at his lips as he drops his forearms into his lap and leans forward until he’s grinning with silent, crinkled laughter. “A party, huh?”

“A holiday office party,” you say with an eager nod.

This does make him laugh. “You might just be onto something.”

“So, what do you think?” You watch as he rises to stand in front of you, his hand combing through his hair. “I think we could pull it off together. It could be a lot of fun.”

“Alright,” he says with an exaggerated shrug. “What the hell?” As lackadaisical a response it is, you can see his happiness. “You wanna decorate? I’ll send out the invitations.”

You agree with a grin, tipping forward to kiss his scruffy cheek, and as you saunter off toward the desk to gather a piece of scrap paper and a pen to start your planning, you feel much lighter than you had before.

“Hey,” he says and you spin to look. “Think we could get Morrison to dress as Santa?”

You laugh.

Vergil doesn’t seem to care that the holidays are around the corner, nor does he indicate any desire to celebrate. You’ve been mulling over how to breach the subject, not from fear but rather uncertain of what judgement he may pass. Surely, if you find any importance in the season, Vergil will indulge you to the best of his ability; you know this and yet you find yourself wondering if he’s fully against them in their entirety. He’s shown open disinterest in religion – Fortuna, you deduce, left a bad taste – but you think, perhaps, he might be open to a bit of spirit. At the very least, you’d love the excuse to have him spend time with the rest of his family.

Your answer comes in the form of a red wax-sealed envelope delivered to your home. Perplexed, you study the writing on the worn paper and see there is no return address listed. Curiosity guides your hands to the seal yet you stop yourself, deciding to share this moment with Vergil.

You find him in the study with several opened books across his desk, exactly as he had left them the night before. The door is open yet you knock to announce your presence. He doesn’t look up as he waves you in.

“I’ve yet to decipher these texts,” he says as you plop into the armchair across from where he stands. “I’m afraid the language may be too far removed from more recent demon tongue.”

“It’s fascinating how even demon language evolves.” He raises his gaze and you smile, lifting the envelope for him to see. “By the way, this came in the mail today. It’s got a wax seal. Think it might be important?”

Vergil’s attention flits to the envelope, then back to you. “Ominous.”

“Mm,” you agree. “Could be some wild invitation to battle to the death. Shall I open it?”

He nods, gesturing with a hand to carry on. You find anticipation builds as you peel back the seal and remove the folded letter within. The handwriting is scrawled, the penmanship overly decorated, but the words are thick, black and bold, as if written with an inkwell.

“Might need some more books to decipher this text, too,” you say with a snort, flashing the paper at Vergil who rolls his eyes in amusement. “Well, let’s see if I can read it.” You clear your throat with theatrics and shake the letter out, settling into your chair. “Dearest brother,” you start before you laugh. “Oh, spoiler alert.”

Vergil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dante...”

“Ever the showman,” you answer. “Okay, here we go.”

Dearest brother, I hope this letter finds you in good health and with haste, as time is not on our side. With the change of the season, I find myself longing to indulge in what has been described to me only as “holiday spirit.” It is for this reason that I cordially invite you and your love to my humble home for drink, company, and merriment. Sincerely, Dante

There’s a silence that follows during which Vergil rises to his full height. He closes his eyes while he folds his arms across his chest. You’re biting back your delight. “He sure knows how to make an entrance,” you say.

Vergil shakes his head before he holds out his hand, and without hesitation, you give him the letter. He scans the paper with pursed lips and brows drawn, then exhales a long-suffering sigh. “My brother has a propensity for theatrics.”

“And you don’t?”

He turns to you and for a moment, he seems scandalized. He flattens his expression. “It seems as though you already have an opinion.”

“The correct opinion.” There’s a playful thread between your banter and you can’t help but smile. “But so...” You tip your head and pull an accent that isn’t yours, “What say you?”

Vergil stares. For a moment, you think he’s going to admonish you, and yet his smile simmers with a telltale gleam. Your heart soars.

“Shall we respond in kind?”

You’ve decorated your shared space with lights and a tree, filled the living room with cheerful music, and hung stockings above the heater where you’ve joked that it’s the closest to a fireplace you have. You do this, and never once has Nero complained. He’s even assisted with stringing the lights around the top of the wall, further than you can stretch. Despite not being quite as enthusiastic about the holiday, you appreciate his acceptance of yours.

Beneath the glow of the flickering multi-colored lights, you’re placing a new ornament on the tree when Nero enters the front door. Clutched in his hand is an open envelope, familiar prickled irritation in the line of his shoulders.

“Welcome back.” Your brows knot in surprise. “What’s that?”

“Something stupid,” Nero answers. “It’s from Dante.”

You grin as you rise to your feet, clamoring over to the entrance while he’s distracted with shutting the door. He gets out a quick, “Hey!” before you snatch the envelope from his grip, spinning out of immediate reach.

“Oh, a seal? Fancy,” you’re saying as you slide the letter from its confines. Nero is following behind you, but each half-hearted swipe has you dodging. It’s a joyous dance that makes you giggle and you know that Nero isn’t truly angry; it’s for show when he throws his hands up and lets out a long groan, collapsing in a chair in front of the television like a cut marionette. “Did you read it yet?”

He sighs, jiggling his knee. “Got as far as the first line.”

You grin. “Then let’s read it together, hm?” Moving to stand behind him, you drape your arms around his shoulders and orient the letter in front of you both, resting your chin on the top of his head. “Oh, his handwriting is...”

“Fucking awful?” Nero supplies.

“Ornate,” you agree with a laugh. “Well, let’s see if I can read it.”

Dearest nephew, I bid you and yours good tidings! I am writing to cordially invite you and your loved one to join me at my abode for a holiday celebration this solstice. Fret not, for I will provide accommodations during your stay in the city of Red Grave. Sincerely, Dante

“What –”

“A party!” You unravel yourself from Nero’s warmth to sidle around him, beaming. “We’re definitely going.”

Nero stares at you and you stare back. There’s silence while his expression works into exhaustion. Nero breaks it with a click of his tongue. “Why’d he have to invite us to a party like an old vampire?”

“Why not?”

He snorts. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Just never would’a taken Dante for a family holiday kinda guy.”

You tilt your head with a patient stare, considering. “Well, Dante hasn’t really had a family until recently.” Nero quirks a brow. “I mean, you only got real confirmation a few months ago and Vergil –”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, waving his hand. Right, you think. Still a sore spot. “So you think Dante’ll invite him?”

You nod your understanding, slow and careful. “I think that’s likely.”

Nero’s lips mesh together as he nods, eyes falling to the floor, faraway in thought.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you say.

It takes Nero a moment to regain focus, but when he does, he’s looking at you with heavy deliberation. He’s reaching for your hands, drawing you into orbit until you’re standing between his knees. His thumbs rub small circles into your skin and you bask in his warmth. “You wanna go, right?”

��Could be fun,” you answer.

His chest fills on a deep inhale before he’s accepting his fate with surprising ease. “Okay, then can ya do me a favor and grab me the phone? I’ll let ‘im know.”

You grin. “You got it.”

[subarublue]

Sparda Family Bonding Time Series - Part 1

Series Description: It’s family bonding time! Sparda family style! A series of short stories revolving around platonic familial relationships between the members of the DMC crew. Warning: Lots of fluff and bonding ahead.

One Shot

Title: Kindred Spirits

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Timeline: Post DMC5

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 4153

Read on Ao3

Summary: Losing a brother is hard, even if you don’t always get along. Which is why Dante is ever grateful for this second chance with his...because he knows someone who’ll never get another chance with hers.

Notes: Mostly just some platonic comfort and family fluff between Dante and Kyrie with a splash of Vergil, Nero, and Nico.

It was inevitable, really.

They’d been back from the underworld for almost a month now, but they were still adjusting back to normal life. They’d been down there for so long, after all; constantly fighting for their lives and sparring each other in between. It wasn’t easy getting back into the normal swing of things. Well, normal for Dante, anyway. Vergil’s definition of normal was a whole other story.

So it really wasn’t surprising that a fight (a real one and not a sparring match) had finally broken out between them. Honestly, Dante was surprised it had taken this long to happen. Then again, he had been trying not to start one, not that he could say much for Vergil’s effort, if there had even been any. He didn’t quite know for sure. Talking wasn’t exactly Vergil’s strong suit; of course Dante wasn’t much better in that regard, either.

He wasn’t even sure what had started it. It probably didn’t matter; whatever it was had likely been trivial. This had been brewing ever since they got back (probably before so, even) and one wrong thing was bound to set them off, eventually.

Because things always ended up like this between him and Vergil. Yeah, sure they were capable of getting along for long periods of time, but somehow, no matter how good things were going, it always ended up in a fight eventually. That was just how it had always been, ever since they were kids. It was just unfortunate that this time it happened at Nero’s place.

Luckily, it was late so the boys were all in bed, sound asleep. At least, Dante hoped they were. They were making quite a ruckus outside and this was not something kids needed to see. Nico and Nero were watching on the sidelines and the latter was trying his best to not resort to yelling at his father and uncle, which would make even more noise. Dante was certain it wouldn’t be long before his nephew dove into put a stop to their brawl.

Except that Nero never got the chance.

Vergil had just given Dante his usual spiel of “Die!” which Dante was sure was only said in anger and he didn’t actually mean it (probably) when a distinctly feminine voice pierced the air with a ferocity he had never before heard from the young woman.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

It was like time had stopped for everyone, including Vergil and Dante who both froze in mid-strike. Everyone turned to look at the petite woman standing on the steps of the porch. Dante wasn’t sure when they had gained another audience, but he now knew that in addition to Nero and Nico, Kyrie was bearing witness to the traditional Sparda way of ‘discussing your problems.’

Apparently though, she was far less than content with the way their family handled their issues. Her hands were fisted in her skirt with a white-knuckled grip and the look on her face was one of absolute fury; an expression Dante had never thought the innocent girl was capable of. When he saw her angry tears beginning to fall, he felt panic well up inside him, though he tamped it down as best he could. He was never good at dealing with crying women. Not that he would have to worry about that. Nero would take care of her.

“If you two want to kill each other, then go do it somewhere else! I’m not going to stand around here and watch you two make the biggest mistake you’ll ever regret. This is our home and I WON’T STAND FOR THIS!”

No one dared to say a word. By now Dante and even Vergil had lowered their swords and while the latter appeared mostly stoic as always, there was the barest hint of shame in his expression. Dante’s expression was more akin to a scolded child. Even Nero and Nico were taken aback, though Nico recovered more quickly. She snickered a bit, but seemed to realize that was a big mistake and tried to stifle it, though the glare Kyrie shot her told everyone she hadn’t been successful.

“Um, Kyrie?” Nero addressed her tentatively in an effort to distract her. This was new territory even for him. They’d had disagreements before of course, but nothing that had ever brought out this kind of anger in her.

She leveled her heated look at Nero, and he stiffened in response until she looked back at the battered duo on their lawn. He didn’t get another word in.

“I won’t repeat myself. Either put those away and get cleaned up or leave! I’ll not have two grown men who are supposed to be brothers trying to kill each other at my house.” Her voice had calmed now, but only because it was devoid of emotion; as if she didn’t have the energy to feel any more. Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode back into the house, slamming the porch door behind her causing everyone except Vergil to flinch at the sudden noise.

The silence that followed in her departure was tense. Nero slowly turned to glare at his father and uncle with a look that rivaled his girlfriend’s from just moments ago.

“You two finished, then?” he said through gritted teeth. Dante could tell Nero was trying to rein in his temper.

“Yes.” Everyone was surprised when Vergil spoke first, but Dante was more so by his answer. He’d been certain Vergil was going to drag him off to finish their fight elsewhere. Instead, his brother sheathed Yamato without any complaint. That was definitely a change.

Huh. Guess he really is trying… But his thought didn’t get far before being interrupted.

“Dante?” Nero’s voice still held that angry tone, obviously waiting for a confirmation from his uncle, as well. Dante almost felt like a little kid again, being reprimanded for not paying attention.

“Yeah. No complaints from me.” He dismissed his sword as well to hopefully further appease his nephew.

“Soooo, uh, that was new. Didn’t know she had in it her, ya know?” Nico spoke up then, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Nero turned his glare on her, but it only lasted a second before worry settled on his face and he turned to looked at the door his girlfriend had left through.

“No, it’s not like her at all. I mean, she always gets a little emotional around this time of year, but she’s never gone off on anyone like that before...” Nero trailed off, obviously confused as to exactly what had Kyrie so upset all of a sudden.

“What significance does this time of year hold for her?” Surprisingly, it was Vergil who spoke up out of curiosity this time.

Nero looked stunned at first that his father had even bothered asking, but the look on his face quickly turned into a sorrowful grimace. Whatever the significance was, it affected Nero too, Dante noted.

That’s when he remembered.

Of course. This was the same time of year that the Savior incident occurred. They’d both been kidnapped by that old codger and used for his own, personal world-domination plan. Kyrie had been the bait and Nero had fallen right into his trap. It had been a horrible situation for the both of them. He was lucky he’d been able to rescue them...or well, Nero anyway; his nephew did all the damsel in distress saving. Either way, it stood to reason that the whole event left lasting scars.

“Her brother, Credo...he died around this time.” Nero looked pained as he spoke; Credo had been a brother to him, too. “I had to watch him die, but Kyrie? She never even got to see him one last time or say goodbye.”

At the mention of Credo, Dante’s eyes widened in realization and he suddenly felt very stupid for not putting two and two together immediately. Of course she was upset with them. Kyrie would have probably given anything to have her own brother back and here he and Vergil were, trying to make pincushions out of each other with their second chance.

He remembered Credo’s death clearly in his mind: questioning the dying man for information. Information that he gave freely in hopes that it would put an end to Sanctus’s plans. The man using his last bit of strength to stand, to ask Dante for one final request: to save Nero and his little sister.

God, I never even told either of them about his last moments. Nero probably didn’t even know he was still alive after the Savior took him. I should have...

Movement from Nero drew his attention away from his own thoughts. It was clear, despite what he’d just told Vergil, that Nero was still in the dark about exactly why their fight had upset Kyrie so much, but he was already moving to go after her. Dante panicked before he could stop himself.

“Wait, kid!”

He almost cringed as Nero turned to regard him with an angry look. What had possessed him to stop his nephew? Nero knew his girlfriend better than anyone so the kid was the logical choice to go and comfort her. Hell, he could probably do it better than Dante and Vergil combined, though relatively speaking, the two of them combined was almost never a good thing. Not to mention they both were complete shit at comforting others.

“What? You got a problem? You’re half the reason she’s upset so unless you’re gonna go fix this, just shut your damn mouth.” It was clear Nero was still angry with them, and Dante didn’t blame him. He didn’t like his father and uncle fighting if his stopping their fight right before their little underworld vacation was anything to go by.

But now, Nero was turning back to go after Kyrie, not even bothering to wait for an answer.

I should just let him go. They’ve been together long enough, surely she’ll tell him what’s bothering her and he can comfort her way better than-

Nero was opening the back door now and Dante couldn’t stop the words that left his mouth.

“Let me talk to her.” He regretted them the second he said it.

Stupid. This was a stupid idea. He was no good with crying women. Why was he doing this? Why was he putting himself in a situation where he was probably just going to make matters worse?

Oh, who was he kidding? He knew very well why he was doing this:

Guilt.

Not only did he feel somewhat responsible for what happened to the both of them and Credo, he’d never even told them about the man’s dying wish for Dante to save them. And here he was, fighting with his own brother right in their backyard.

Nero couldn’t cover his shocked expression, not that Dante expected any different of a reaction. In fact, even Nico and Vergil had surprised looks on their faces. When no one made a move to say anything, too stunned into silence, Dante figured he’d have to explain.

“Look, I think I understand what’s really bothering her, so...just let me talk to her. If I make it worse, you can step in and fix it.”

“If you make it worse, I’ll do more than just bitch-slap you this time.” Nero crossed his arms and leveled Dante with a glare to show he meant business.

“Deal.” He nodded to Nero as he passed him to head through the door. He really hoped he didn’t screw this up; for Kyrie’s sake...and his own.

It didn’t take him long to find her; she hadn’t gone far. She was sitting on a swinging bench on the front porch as he stepped out the door. When he heard her quiet weeping, he felt the panic rise up in him again.

Why? Why’d he volunteer for this again? He wasn’t any good at this whole comfort thing. Where was he even supposed to start?

Sorry’s usually a good place. He sighed. Yeah, right. What the hell was he supposed to say sorry for?

Sorry my brother and I not-quite killed each other and bled all over your lawn? Sorry your brother’s dead and mine’s not? Sorry it looks like we’re wasting the second chance we have when you deserve it a hell of a lot more?

God, he was terrible at this…and he hadn’t even said anything, yet.

He heard her try to stifle a sob, apparently now aware that she had company. He swallowed hard. He was not prepared for this at all.

Guess it’s time to do what I do best: wing it.

He took a seat at the opposite end from her. He watched her stiffen when his weight shifted the swing of the bench, slightly. Still unsure on how to start, he looked straight ahead, only glancing over at her every now and then as she tried to quiet her tears. He was half-hoping she’d say something first, though it soon became evident that would not be the case. He was just stalling because he was afraid; more so of upsetting her further than of Nero’s wrath.

He caught her out of the corner of his eye, chancing a glance in his direction to see who was currently sitting with her. He heard her choke back another sob, though whether it was from realizing it was him or some other reason, he didn’t know. It still solidified his thoughts that this was bad idea, but he was already here and Nero was expecting him to fix this. Besides, she deserved to know about her brother’s last moments. It was the least he could do. If he made things worse, he’d just have to let Nero beat the crap out of him. Maybe that would make her feel better, though he doubted it. This was Kyrie, after all. She’d never wish harm on anyone.

He cleared his throat finally, trying to gather up some courage. He knew he couldn’t stall forever.

“I’m no good at shit like this, so you’ll have to bear with me a bit.” Probably not the best start, so he paused to give her a chance to tell him to leave in case she didn’t want to talk to him. When she finally spoke, she didn’t tell him to leave, but she didn’t bother to turn and face him, either.

“It’s very rude to have fights at other people’s houses, you know?” There was a tinge of anger to her voice still. “Especially when you should be happy to have each other back.”

There it was. There was no mistaking the disdain in her voice. She really did think they were taking advantage of this second chance they had. So he’d been right, after all. Now, what to do about it?

Well, set her straight, of course....hopefully.

“I know it doesn’t look like we’re thankful to have each other back, but that’s not the case. Well, for me anyway. I can’t really speak for Vergil, but...he seems to be trying, I guess.”

“Is that how you show it? By trying to kill each other?” He could still hear her sniffle now and then, but her anger was overriding her crying for the moment. He sighed again.

“I ain’t gonna get into why we do things the way we do. We’d be here all night. What I can tell you is no matter how serious it looked, we weren’t gonna kill each other. Maybe a long time ago that might’ve been the case, but not anymore. Things are different now.”

“Because of Nero.” The anger was gone from her voice now, but it was replaced with an emotion he didn’t really think he could deal with well: sorrow.

“Yeah.” The silence following his admission was terribly uncomfortable. She was back to crying quietly again and he decided he should go with what his first instinct had been: apologize. Though he had far more to apologize for than just the brawl in her backyard.

“I’m sorry for what happened back then.”

“Just don’t fight here. I know Nero hates it.”

So do you. He didn’t say it out loud, though. Instead, he opted to correct her assumption. “I wasn’t apologizing for that, though I am sorry for that, too.”

He saw her in his peripheral vision; she slowly turned to face him. He was really glad he wasn’t looking directly at her. He could tell her face was tear-stained and it would have probably shot down any confidence he had to say what he needed to next.

“What are you apologizing for, then?” Her voice was strained from all the crying, but the confusion was still evident.

“For what happened to your brother.”

Her gasp was so quiet he would have missed it if he didn’t have exceptional hearing and he glanced at her briefly. Her eyes were wide and her hands covered her mouth in shock, obviously not having expected his answer. He swallowed thickly.

No backing out now, he thought. “I guess you could say I know what it feels like to lose a brother, too. I thought Vergil was dead for a long time. Even before that, I lost him to his own desire for power. We never really got along very well, but…it still hurt.”

“What happened that made you think he was dead”? Her shock had died down as she’d listened to him, now voicing an obvious question he should have anticipated.

A pained look crossed his face at the memory. She just didn’t know what can of worms she was trying to open. That was something he might tell them someday (or maybe Vergil would, if he really remembered it), but for now it was better left unsaid. They were getting off topic, anyway. Fortunately, she’d seen the look on his face at her question and understood it was a subject he didn’t want to get into.

“Sorry. I should have known better than to ask that thoughtlessly. It still hurts to talk about how Credo died, too.”

They were getting back to the reason he originally came out here in the first place and he was never one to pass up an opportunity, so he took it.

“You probably didn’t know it, but I was there…when he died, you know?”

“Yes, I know. Nero told me. He said you were there to catch him when he fell,” she said it like it should have been obvious and he knew she didn’t understand what he meant.

“No. Nero only told you what he knew.” She looked at him as he spoke and he turned slightly to face her more directly. Surely if he could face demons on a daily basis, he could face this. “He was still alive after Nero was taken by the Savior.” There was a long stretch of silence as she realized what this meant.

“But…Nero said he was probably dead when he fell from the Savior. He said that Sanctus…with Yamato…” She faltered, unable to talk about how her brother had died at the hands of someone he had respected and served. She was crying again now, and it took all his resolve not to look away again.

“Well, he wasn’t.” He met her eyes. He could barely catch the small glimmer of hope in them through her tears. She hadn’t had a body to bury and he suddenly realized that all she’d ever really wanted was a bit of closure, since she’d been practically comatose through the whole thing.

“I talked to him, before…you know.” He refrained from mentioning the man’s death again to try and avoid more of her tears. He turned away again, finding he couldn’t handle the look on her face. “He told me what the old man’s plans were. I guess that was his way of trying to right any wrongs he’d done in his last moments.”

“He was always very noble and selfless. He really thought what they were doing was for the better of the world.” She seemed to have gotten her crying under control somewhat as she reminisced about her brother, but her tone was still heavy with sadness. “And he was never one to be afraid of accepting responsibility for his own actions. I’m glad in his last moments that he wasn’t alone…and he was thinking of redemption.”

“Those weren’t his last thoughts, though.” He braved another glance at her before looking away again to stare at nothing in particular.

“W-what do you mean?” She seemed confused, as if she couldn’t think of anything else that might have mattered to Credo in his last moments.

“What do you think it means? He was pretty stubborn. Even as he sat there bleeding out, he forced himself to his feet so he could meet me face to face and ask me to honor his one last request-” Dante turned back to look at her fully this time “-to save you and Nero.”

Her eyes widened ever so slightly before the waterworks started up again and he felt more panic welling up in him. Great. He made her cry more. God, this is exactly what he was afraid of.

“At the end…h-he was thinking of us?”

She was staring at her hands in her lap as more silent tears fell from her eyes. She wasn’t really talking to anyone in particular; just thinking out loud, but he countered her question, anyway.

“Did you really expect any different?” Her tearful gaze met his and he willed himself not to look away. “You said it yourself: he was pretty noble and selfless. Seems very much like him to be worried about the two people he cared about most rather than his own fate.”

He’d hoped that would be of some comfort to her and stop her crying, but he jerked when she suddenly let out a rather loud sob and lunged forward, gripping the lapels of his coat as she practically fell into his chest and started weeping. He swallowed nervously, half-expecting Nero to come out the front door ready to knock him around a bit, but no one disturbed them and he settled for awkwardly patting her on the back as she cried her heart out.

They sat like that for a while; long enough that awkwardness dissipated for him somewhat. He eventually opted to rest one arm around her back in a gentle half-embrace, which seemed to do far more at comforting her than anything else. Eventually, she stopped crying and he hoped that was good enough.

“Dante?”

He looked down at her as she pulled away from him and the panic came back full force when he noticed there were still tears running down her cheeks. There was something different about it this time, though. This wasn’t the sorrowful weeping from moments ago. Instead, the silent tears were a stark contrast to the gentle smile on her face.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Thank you.” She said before attempting to dry her eyes with the sleeve of her dress.

He let out a short huff of relief. It seemed he wouldn’t get the crap beat out of him for the second time tonight. At least he could say that Vergil hadn’t faired too well, either. More so, he was just happy he could give her that little bit of closure that was long overdue.

“I’m sorry I never said anything before. Nero told me once he was the only family you had left and I guess I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I’m not real great at dealing with cryin’ women,” he admitted. That prompted a quiet laugh from her as he stood up from the bench and offered her a hand up, which she accepted graciously.

“I can understand that.” She gave him a knowing smile. “He was wrong, though.”

“Huh?” Now it was his turn to be confused.

“Nero. He was wrong. Credo wasn’t my only family left.” The smile on her face held a bit of a teasing look to it. His confusion bled into his expression as she took one of his hands in both of hers. “I have a new one now, in all of you.”

Tears started forming in her eyes again at the admission, while his widened in surprise this time. Her expression was anything but sad though, and Dante now recognized these tears for what they were: tears of happiness. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he pulled her into a gentle hug.

“It’s a bit late and maybe Nero hasn’t made it official quite yet, but...welcome to the family, Kyrie.”

“Thank you, Dante.”

When he pulled away, her smile was brighter than ever, despite the tears, and he thought that…maybe not all crying was so bad.

Part 1 of this series • Part 2 →

[buns-with-a-book]

Spider Lily

For Day One of DMCWeek2020! The prompts filled for today was Weapon! Special thanks for @furyeclipse for the idea of the weapon in question.

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Nico, Vergil/OC, Dante Tags: @nimnox @astral-space-dragon @queenmuzz @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate @harlot-of-oblivion

Summary: While Nico works on a new katana devil arm for Vergil, Cassandra and Vergil discuss the nature of devil arms and the long-shattered Astra.

It was a warm evening on the island of Fortuna. Outside, cicadas sang with the ocean waves beyond. Just a little ways away, the outskirts of Castle Town were quiet.

It was this evening that found Cassandra with Vergil in the Devil May Cry van. At her workbench, Nico was hard at work making her first proper Devil Arm. She remembered Nico practically vibrating with excitement from a trip to Japan with Lady and Trish, where they not only slew a rather violent and aggressive demon, but earned a slew of demon parts and materials for Nico’s projects. One such project was a katana, for Vergil. Behind Nico was the katana’s scabbard, a blood red sageo laying atop it. Sitting across from Nico’s workbench was a potted red spider lily, the inspiration for the devil arm in the making.  

“Man, binding the demon into the metal was the biggest challenge in the first place.” Nico hummed. “Stubborn varmint.” The metal seemed to heat up angrily at that. “Oh can it, asshole!”

“I must admit, I never expected to find Nicolett- ahem, Nico’s work so...amusing.” Vergil hummed.

“It’s a hoot.” Cassandra grinned, her hands full of ice cream. “Here you go.” She handed him a cup of pistachio gelato. Vergil smiled as he took the cup and began to eat.

“Thank you, my dear.” Cassandra sat down next to him, beginning to eat her cup of cherry gelato. She looked to Nico. “Where’s Dante?”

“Probably pissing off Nero.” Cassandra said with a shrug. “He just does that, ever since they met.” Vergil let out a hum. Cassandra looked to the weaponsmith, noticing a sparkling black obsidian earring on the weaponsmith. She let out a hum. “Didn’t know Nico was into jewelry.”

“It’s more than just jewelry.” Vergil said. “I recognize it as an enchanted earring, to protect the wearer from demonic influence. Creating devil arms is a very dangerous task, she will need all the protection she can get.”

“Do you know that?” Cassandra asked. Vergil shook his head.

“No. I do not know about the creation of devil arms. But devil arms are dangerous in their own right so it stands to reason that their creation is even more dangerous. The weaponsmith must tame the devil’s soul into the metal.” Vergil explained. “Sometimes, a more powerful arm is split in some matter.” He looked to the Yamato, sitting quietly next to him. “My father split his original sword into three: the Sparda, Rebellion, and Yamato.”

“And, if what Dante told me is correct, he reunited Rebellion into the Sparda with his own blood, creating Devil Sword Dante.” Cassandra mused.

“Uncreative name aside-”

“He’s only creative when he’s fighting demons.” Cassandra pointed out. Vergil snorted.

“As I was saying, Dante technically created a new devil arm, using Rebellion and the Sparda as a sort of base. But I am only speaking in hypotheticals.” Vergil shrugged. “Devil Arms are...unique. And Dante’s is no exception.”

“And difficult to pin down in terms of crafting, aside from the fact that a demon’s soul is it’s core.” Cassandra finished. She looked to the scar on her left hand. “You wouldn’t happen to remember Astra, would you?”

“I believe you polished the blade as a subtle threat to me when I was V.” He replied. Cassandra cringed.

“Yeah...sorry about that.” Vergil chuckled. “But you remember the blade. I don’t think it was a Devil Arm.”

“No, I doubt it ever was one. I would call Astra a spirit weapon. Spirit weapons are exceedingly rare, tied to bloodlines.” Cassandra slowly nodded. All of that sounded correct. “They all fade at some point in time, but Astra’s shattering was what surprised me.” She felt his hand rub at her scar. “Astra appeared to have a few more generations before it would fade.”

“What can I say? Life throws curveballs.”

“Curveballs in the form of angry houseplants!” Nico yelled. Vergil glanced up to her, still hard at work at the katana, before awkwardly taking another spoonful of ice cream. Cassandra chuckled.

“Well, that curveball gave me a sassy sweary bird, a snuggly panther, a baby, and Cordelia, so I like to think I ended up smelling like roses by the end of it all.” She leaned onto Vergil. “And I got one very handsome half-devil as well.”

“Ugh, lovebirds. Get a room!” Nico gagged. Cassandra gave Nico a look. “And don’t think about using the van’s shower! That’s not a room!”

“I dunno, it technically would count as a room-”

“That’s a one way ticket outta my van!” Nico snapped.

“Nicoletta, the katana. You have to be focused on making the devil arm or the demon will escape from the metal.” Vergil cut through the conversation, his tone serious. Nico nodded and went back to work on the katana. Cassandra looked back to her gelato and continued to eat. A quiet fell in the van, aside from the sounds of Nico working hard.

“...Cassandra.” Vergil murmured. She looked up. “If you could keep Astra, would you?”

“...no. For one thing, I wouldn’t have Cordelia. I would never have to face the memories I forgot, either from trauma or a conscious attempt to forget. And I would probably have to slay your nightmares, something I...would have a hard time doing. I’m too fond of them.” She mused. Vergil nodded. “I wonder, if Dante had found them before me, would he have struggled with slaying them as well?” Cassandra fell quiet, a train of thought that Vergil didn’t want to go down either.  

“Aaaaand done!” Nico chirped, sliding the newly-forged katana into its scabbard. Vergil put down the empty cup of ice cream and set it on the small table across from them. He placed the Yamato in Cassandra’s arms, earning a soft ‘oh!’ from her. Nico snickered at the sight, a snicker that faded when Vergil walked over to Nico. “Ahem!” She held up the newly forged katana. “Behind, my genius!”

“Does it have a name?” Vergil asked, glancing at the red spider lily across from the workbench. Nico grinned wide at that.

“I call it Spider Lily. But uh, brawling stuff? Don’t know about that. But I do know that the demon inside will try and make you go nutso if you stare at the reflection for too long.” Nico explained. Vergil slid the katana out of it’s scabbard, silver eyes staring deep into the blade’s shining surface. A tense quiet fell before he looked up, sliding the katana back into the scabbard.

“Child’s play.”

“Hey! My work is not child pl-”

“I was not referring to your craftsmanship. The demon bowed easily.” He said. “Your craftsmanship is impeccable.”

“...aww shucks.” Nico laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Cass, why is your man a charmer?”

“Because he genuinely likes your thirst for weaponsmith knowledge? You’re not as annoying as Dante?” Cassandra threw out with a shrug. “Speaking of Dante-” She looked out the window. “Ah, he’s coming back with a strawberry sundae. Probably bugged Nero into paying for it-” Vergil suddenly stepped out of the van. Cassandra watched as he walked over to Dante, pulling out the newly forged katana. Nico followed him, poking her head out of the opened door.

“Hey Verg, did you get yourself a new toy?” Dante asked, taking a bite of strawberry sundae. Vergil suddenly impaled his twin in the gut with the katana, earning a yelp of pain. “VERG!” Vergil pulled the katana out and inspected it.

“Hm.” He flicked the blood off the katana and slid it back into its scabbard. “I will need to hone it’s edge on other demons.”

“THEN WHY STAB ME!?” Dante yelled. “I nearly spilled my sundae!”

“If a blade cannot go through you cleanly, then is it a blade?”

“I’m just gonna eat my sundae-” He looked over to Cassandra, noticing the Yamato that was in her hands. “Huh, that’s where you put the Yamato.”

“Whatever are you talking about Dante?” Vergil asked, raising an eyebrow. Dante pointed his plastic spoon to Cassandra. Vergil’s eyes followed his spoon to her, then back to Dante, before a blush crept onto his face. He promptly pulled the katana back out and stabbed Dante again. Blooming from the wound was a scarlet dripping spider lily. Dante looked down, a noise of confusion passing his lips before it appeared to explode. Dante was thrown back a little from the blast, stumbling to the ground. Although his strawberry sundae thankfully didn’t spill, he was surrounded by scarlet spider lilies. Vergil sheathed the katana and returned to the van, ignoring Nico’s snickering.

“...well, I still got my sundae.” Dante huffed.

[skiesoftwilight]

Partners (Vergil)

I’m sorry for the title, I’m really bad at naming my pieces lol. This was a fun one to write cause it gave me somewhat of a base to establish a plot and everything. Thanks for the request! :) I hope you all enjoy!

Requested by: @spirit-of-the-void

Word Count: 2764>

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“Oh my—how long has this been sitting here?”

Picking up the greasy pizza box off of the couch, you slowly lifted the lid to see there was half a pizza still inside. Your nose was assaulted by the foul stench that crept out from the box and into the air around you; you did your best to not gag as you tossed it into the trash bag beside you, tying it up as quickly as you could and walking it over towards the back door to join the other bags filled with half-eaten pizza, greasy napkins, and outdated bills.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you wiped the thin blanket of sweat from your brow before going to Dante’s disorganized desk to open another bag to continue cleaning up the trash that the Legendary Demon Hunter left behind just for you. 

Your body tensed when you heard the sound of the hinges creaking on the door opening up to the office. You carried on cleaning the mess in front of you, but when you heard the door close and then silence, your dominant hand brushed against the handgun in its holster, sending a visible warning to the person behind you that you were armed and ready for a fight. After a few moments of silence in the room, you decided to take action.

You quickly unholstered your gun and pointed it right at the perpetrator, your eyes staring down the sights at your target which appeared to be the one and only Morrison. Your eyes grew wide with fear and embarrassment as you looked at your gun and then the old man before lowering it and placing it on the desk behind you.

“Morrison! I told you to never sneak up on me,” You set the trash bag down and walked over to greet the man with a firm handshake and a firm grip on his shoulder, a smile growing on your lips, “I could’ve blown your head off.”

“I knew you wouldn’t, but I won’t do it again.” He smiled at you before releasing your hand to look around at the almost spotless office space. Silently nodding his head in approval, he walked around you towards Dante’s desk where he placed a single white envelope on top of the clutter of current bills and job reports.

“I see you got stuck on desk duty…and cleaning duty as well?” Morrison asked, moving his hands about the room to gesture to the slightly clean desk and the clean spots around the room; you simply nodded as you picked up the trash bag to continue cleaning, “Those two crazy bitches—I mean ladies, I’m sorry—here with you? Or are they out too?”

You laughed at his jab at Trish and Lady, “Yeah, it’s just me here, along with Dante’s brother, Vergil,” A yawn crept into the middle of your sentence, “Dante paired us up as partners for the time being—He says it’s to get the tougher jobs done quicker and doubling the income for each job, but I think it’s just bullshit, but what can I do? It’s not bad having a partner, especially if it’s him.”

Morrison chuckled, already getting an idea of Dante’s logic for having partners but he didn’t comment on it. The minute he was about to say something, the blaring ring of the telephone on the desk echoed throughout the vast room. Dropping the trash bag, you sprinted to the desk and picked up the receiver and held it to your ear with a kind smile as if the person on the other end would see it as well.

“Devil May Cry.”

“Dante, Dant—” The voice stopped in the middle of Dante’s name, but you recognized that high-pitched voice from anywhere, “(Y/N)? Is that you?”

“Yeah, Patty, it’s me,” Pinching the bridge of your nose to stop yourself from snapping at the young girl on the other end, you tried to maintain your smile for the sake of your mood and voice, “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, nothing…Is Dante there? I have a message for him.”

You turned to Morrison, rolling your eyes at the obnoxious girl on the line, “Uh, no, unfortunately, he isn’t. I don’t know when he will be back, but can I possibly pass the message on to him when he does?”

“Sure! My twenty-first birthday is next week and I was inviting him…you can come too, I guess.”

You did your best to not hang up the phone right that minute, “Yeah, I’ll tell him, Patty, thank you, bye now.”

You slammed the receiver down hard and let out a stressed sigh before standing up and placing the palms of your hands on the edge of the desk; turning to Morrison, you shook your head, “Dante owes me big time for just picking up that phone.”

Morrison laughed out loud before turning to look at the stairs, “I was going to ask you, where’s Vergil?”

“He’s upstairs supposedly sleeping in my room,” You cast a brief glance at your door on the second floor, “but I already know he’s lying, I keep hearing thumping every once and a while, but nothing else. He’s a strange one and I’ve definitely got my eye on him, that’s for sure.”

Nodding slowly, Morrison pushed himself off the desk and made his way to the front entrance, “Well, it seems like you’ve been doing fine with everyone out of your hair,” taking another long look around the room once more, he turned to you with a kind smile, “Don’t go tellin’ anyone I said this, but since you’ve been taking care of this place, I’ll take only a quarter of your earnings.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morrison! Goodnight!” You waved to him goodbye as he walked out the door and continued to round up the scattered papers across the office. 

While cleaning, you began to hear a soft thumping and rapid footsteps coming from the second floor. You stopped for a brief moment, listening to the rather strange sounds before returning to cleaning. They stopped for a while but then resumed after a couple of minutes. You finished up with your current trash bag and made your way up the stairs to your room where Vergil was staying.

You pressed your ear to the door and gave a listen, hearing Vergil walking around the room and his voice mumbling something that wasn’t coherent through the thick wooden door. Your brows furrowed together, your mind going back and forth between knocking on the door or just walking away. Before you could come to a conclusion, you raised your fist to the door and knocked softly, waiting for a response.

Nothing happened. Curiosity took over your body, causing your other hand to slowly turn the doorknob and pushed the door open just a crack. You peeked through the crack to see the room was dimly lit by the white moonlight coming in through the blinds, but there was not a single light on in the room itself. 

“Vergil?” Pushing the door open a bit further, you called out his name, barely a whisper on your lips as you feared that he would react violently by your invasion of privacy. When he didn’t respond to his name, you opened the door just enough for you to slip in. Cracking the door behind you, you turned to see Vergil pacing back and forth at the foot of your bed, the Yamato sheathed but gripped tightly in his hands.

Looking at him in the moonlight, you took note that his eyes were still closed, yet he walked around as if he clearly knew the room like the back of his hand. Looking around the room, you saw that your pillows and chairs had been sliced through with such precision, none of the feathers hand escaped their casings. With your brows furrowed, you decided to reach out for him to see if he was truly awake or just sleepwalking. 

Your gloved hand slowly reached forward towards his upper arm and just when your calloused fingertips barely grazed the fabric of his coat, his free hand slammed against your chest, the force being enough to knock you into the wall; before you could even move out of the way, he unsheathed the Yamato and thrust it forward, nicking the side of your abdomen just enough to cause you to bleed little by little.

Vergil’s eyes finally opened to see the damage he had done. You stared at him, your eyes narrowed in confusion and shock at what just happened, but you didn’t dare move. His piercing blue eyes made note of where his blade struck you but showing no emotion or warning, he withdrew the Yamato and looked at your blood on the blade. Without speaking a word, he eyed you as he pulled out a cloth and wiped your blood from the blade.

“I…what…D-did you just?” Peeling yourself off the wall, you looked down at your side as saw a crimson patch growing across your white shirt; feeling the tips of your fingers just graze against the soaked fabric caused a wince to fall from your lips. Vergil’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed at your state; his chest tightened, yet his mind dismissed your injury as unimportant.

“I did—” He began, but the moment he saw you raise your bloody hand in the air, he was immediately silenced.

“You know what?” You looked at him, at his sword, then the room around you two, “Don’t worry about this, any of this…If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen tending to this.” You gestured to your side before reaching for the door and pushing it open and making your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Vergil was left in the room, staring at the bloodied cloth in one hand and the Yamato in the other.

His mind was trying to stop himself from leaving the room, but the feeling in his chest was stronger and it made his feet carry himself towards the kitchen where he stopped in the doorway, seeing you without your shirt on in just your bra, watching you carefully pierce your delicate skin with a small needle, hearing your soft winces at every poke. He didn’t know what to say, but his chest ached at seeing scars scattered across your back.

“Instead of just standing there, can you at least toss me my shirt?” Picking up on his tense presence, you turned to face him, folding your arms over your chest to cover yourself; He pulled your shirt off the back of the chair and tossed it in your direction, you catching it and putting it back on quickly.

“You weren’t my intended target.” He began. His voice quiet, yet assertive.

“Then who was?”

“My…demons.”

His response made you chuckle; you didn’t care if he was attempting to make a joke or not, but hearing his response changed your perspective on him, he seemed to be more human. Sitting at the table, you told him to take a seat before carrying on the conversation.

“That whole sleepwalking thing…you develop that while in the Underworld?” He stared at you, trying to figure out your motive for the intrusive question; narrowing your eyes, he gave you a curt yes before turning away.

“I don’t blame you for it,” you spoke softly, trying to capture his attention by placing your hands on the table, “I know what it’s like to having to sleep with one eye open and your guard up every second of the day, hell, I still do it.”  

Vergil turned to you, something unfamiliar gleaming in his cold eyes, “I handled being down there by myself for so long…by myself…” he paused, slight anger rising in his eyes, “Having Dante beside me didn’t change anything. I was always ready for a fight and I still am.”

“I was left for dead by my friends after they literally and figuratively stabbed me in the back,” You threw your thumb towards your back, letting a nervous sigh leave your lips, “Laying out in some concrete alley, I thought that I couldn’t trust anyone and that I was going to die alone. I wouldn’t be here if your brother didn’t see me. He took me in and from that point on I haven’t really trusted anyone else besides him. When someone stands behind me, it scares me.”

Vergil looked confused as to why you were telling him your fears; his mind kept telling him to get up and walk away, to stop wasting his time, but something was telling him to stay, cherish the moment and be bold. Without any warning, he slowly reached for your hand on the table and took it in his, staring at it for a moment before slowly giving a firm squeeze to test the waters.

“We don’t gotta go through our troubles alone, Vergil,” You told him, looking deep into his eyes, “There’s always someone there for you. I see now why Dante paired us up as partners. We can help each other.” With a small smile, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” You were surprised to hear him say that; he used to rarely speak to you, but after what happened moments ago, something changed in him. 

Turning to look at the clock on the wall, you note that it was going to be dawn soon, you turned back to Vergil, your hand still in his, “Let us get some rest before the rest come back; once they do, I’m sure we both will need the energy to keep us from beating them, plus I don’t think anyone but Dante’s admirer Patty will be calling any time soon.”

Your words caused a smirk to form on his lips as he gave you a soft gaze. “Lead the way.”

Standing up from the table, you let go of his hand to walk out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. You looked over your shoulder to make sure he was following before continuing up the stairs and entering your bedroom. The room was a mess, but being too tired and in pain to clean it up, you tossed the destroyed pillows on the sliced chair and stole pillows from Dante’s room. 

When Vergil entered the room he came to sit on one side of the bed while you were on the other. Laying down flat on your back, you turned to look at Vergil who stared at the ceiling. He felt your gaze and turned to see what you want, but your cheeks turned slightly pink before saying what you were going to say.

“C-Can I hold your hand again?” You asked sheepishly, looking away before regaining the courage to look back at him, “You kind of sliced up my comfort pillow during your little “sleep fit” so now I got nothing”

Vergil cast a small glance at the chair that held your worn pillow; it’s feathers spilling out of the cut. With a nervous sigh leaving his tightly sealed lips, he said nothing but held his hand out towards you for you to take.

With a small smile, you grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers, letting your hands bounce back onto the mattress as you lay on the bed together. Wishing him a good night, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. Listening to your soft snores, he turned his head to look at you sleeping peacefully beside you. Taking a glance at your hands, his cheeks burned, but he couldn’t figure out why. With his mind telling him to ignore his feelings, he chose to ignore the voice instead and felt himself drifting off too.

“Lady! Get over here quick!” Dante whisper-shouted to his friend, excitement clear on his face. Lady speed-walked towards Dante who stood by your bedroom door. When Lady was going to ask him what he wanted, he shushed her and quietly opened the door and shoved her face through the crack.

In the room was you and Vergil, still sound asleep, but you two were facing each other, still holding hands from earlier in the night. Your head was nestled into the crook of his neck while his free hand was resting on your hip. Dante was struggling to keep his laughter on the down-low but failing miserably. Stepping out of the room, he shouted into the hallway with Lady trailing behind him, “I need to buy a camera! This is twice in two weeks!”

[thedyingmoon]

🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤

***

XXV.B

***

Vergil landed on the wrecked balcony of Fleminger’s mansion, clearly noticing its quite undisturbed state despite the Dreadnought’s massive ambuscade. The sprawling mansion, itself, still stood in one piece. The once majestic ballroom may be reduced to a complete ruin due to the Electric Furies’ attack last Saturday and Nico’s reckless driving last Tuesday but, the rest of the huge building’s parts were still intact.

With the Yamato on his hand, he cautiously entered the dark and silent premises, hoping for Fleminger to show up,…

“My Lord?” A familiar voice uttered from a distance. He squinted his eyes, trying to see through the darkness, when he noticed the Master of the house standing at a safe distance away from the entrance.

“Fleminger?” He called as he went closer, and the moment he did, he was unnerved to see the man looking really pale, like he just lost a lot of blood.

“My Lord!” He exclaimed triumphantly, his hands clasped as if in a prayer. “How wonderful to see you finally succeed!”

“Tell me,” Vergil cut him off. “… the Dreadnought. Why is it still alive? I drove the Yamato through her sister’s body and obtained her power. She should be weakened. I demand an explanation.”

“My Lord,” Fleminger began. “… I’m afraid to say that,… you have not gained everything.”

“And what do you mean by those words?”

“Inside the girl lies,… another. You may have her unmatched strength and her ability to look into the future but, you have yet to gain the most powerful ally.”

At the mere prospect of gaining more power, Vergil’s eyes clearly widened with interest. “And that is?”

Tired eyes red and pale hands rubbing against long, black, satin bishop sleeves, Fleminger spoke to him, “Immortality, my Lord. You have yet to gain her immortality. Acquire this and you shall be able put an end to the Dreadnought, once and for all. Obtain this,…” the man licked his dry lips and smiled at him. “… and you will be the most powerful being in existence. Even greater than Mundus, or Sparda, himself.”

Vergil glanced at the man with scrutinizing eyes, searching for something in Fleminger that could betray him of any kind of deceit. And when he found none, he nodded, then turned away from him.

“Then, I shall obtain it. And put an end to that Demon.”

“Even with obstacles before you?” Fleminger innocently asked just when another visitor arrived at the mansion. Vergil found out that it was none other than his son, Nero, himself.

“He is never an obstacle.” The father stated, regarding his own son with complete apathy. “Just a child who lost his way.”

“YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE!” Nero fumed as blue light radiated from his body, engulfing him and slowly changing him to his Devil form. “V, VERGIL, WHATEVER YOU CALL YOURSELF: FUCK YOU!”

The young Devil Hunter summoned Dante’s sword and charged forward with every intention of beating his father.

But, Vergil had other plans.

With one swift movement, he pulled out what’s left of the black contract markings from his neck, the thick, mysterious ink sticking to his fingers like glue, forcibly summoning both Shadow and Nightmare in the process.

While the golem started mindlessly destroying the place, the demonic feline only looked at Vergil in confusion, asking ‘why?’ without actual words. And this made Nero stop.

“I don’t have time for this.” Vergil told his son. “Play with these nightmares. Kill them, if you must.

"I’m done with them.”

“What are you - ?!”

With those empty words, the cold man simply walked out, changing into the light being once more as he arrived at the balcony, and soared into the skies in pursuit of his final goal. Nero was about to go after him when the abandoned familiars started attacking him.

For a brief moment, Vergil’s eyes scanned the ground below him like an eagle in search of his prey, swiftly descending when he finally spotted the remains of the Dreadnought. He morphed back to his mortal form once his feet touched the ground and made his way towards two distinct figures along the fleshy debris of Shinano Musashi.

That’s when he saw something else,…

… the girl, or what looked like her spirit,…

… who was sitting on the ground just beside her and Dante’s body.

Her head bowed down low, her tears spilling on her lap, her hands on the girl’s limp and bloody hands, she wept for her, her mournful sobs filling the silent place.

And then, Vergil realized,…

“You,…”

The girl looked up, her eyes wide with fear. He knew she wasn’t (Y/N), and yet,…

… the resemblance,…

… was uncanny.

“Vergil,” she uttered, her voice sounding awfully familiar. Like he heard it somewhere before. “… she’s dying. Please, help her. Please!”

And he thought she was already done for! One look at her told him that she’s hopeless with those fatal wounds. No other mortal could survive those.

But, of course, the being was still healing her despite her incorrigible state.

“Why are you still helping her?” He questioned, not caring about (Y/N)’s condition. “She’s dying. There’s nothing you could do to help her.”

The being glanced back at the girl, grasping her hands as tightly as she could as she still tried to heal her. “I,… never lost my faith in her,…” she explained, then looked up once more at him. “… and neither in you, Vergil.”

Her voice,…

The way she uttered his name plucked something in his heart. He knew he had seen her before, heard her voice even. He just couldn’t remember when or how exactly.

“Listen, what you are doing right now is,… futile.” Vergil urged on. “There is no power in this cruel world that could save that weak mortal. Accept her fate and face your one true Master.”

The being closed her eyes, her tears endlessly streaming down, and shook her head in denial.

Vergil sighed. He didn’t want to use the Yamato against her. The being was small and looked weak and fragile, like its resemblance. He knew he could obtain her and her power of immortality. He just needed one last push, or else,…

He pointed at the sky and spoke, “Her sister is wreaking havoc as I speak. If you do not come with me now, the whole world, and humanity, itself, will truly be annihilated, and you would no longer serve any kind of Master.” He prodded on, his patience slowly reaching its limit. “You do not want to make this any more difficult for the both of us.” He exclaimed, then extended a hand towards the being, wanting it to take it. “Come with me. Now.”

The being only looked at him, her facial expression quite difficult to read. “You must understand that, by acquiring my power, not only will you gain immortality, you will also gain the absolute knowledge of my current vessel.”

Absolute knowledge? “I understand.”

“By my sister Andromeda, you became the Protector of The Present. By my sister Cassandra, you gained the Aspect of The Future. By me, the last of the Sisters of Fate, you shall carry the burden of the past. Do you understand?”

Vergil sighed. “Yes.”

The being inhaled, looking like it was actually contemplating its decisions like a normal human being.

Her emotions, her gestures,…

… those eyes,…

In fact, she really was like a normal human girl,…

“Do you, Vergil Sparda, accept all of these conditions?”

“I do.” He gave his unwavering answer.

“Then,” she answered, finally taking Vergil’s hand. “… reunite, we shall, Master Vergil. I pray you do not regret,… your decision.”

The moment their hands made contact, the last of the Sisters of Fate vanished, her body turning into little orbs. These orbs then went directly to Vergil’s skin, merging with him, becoming one with him,…

“V,…”

When he finally succeeded in absorbing the last being, he heard a familiar female voice. His sight was abruptly stolen from him, making him drop the Yamato on the ground. His consciousness was swiftly brought to a place he didn’t know existed. He felt he was floating, hovering for a long time, and when he finally gained his sight back, he saw,…

… her memories.

(Y/N)’s memories.

All of it.

And they came crashing down in huge flashes before him,…

“I love you, Mama! I love you, Papa!”

“STOP HURTING PAPA!”

“NO! DON’T TAKE THEM AWAY! DON’T LEAVE US!”

“I’m here, (S/N). I will never leave you,…”

“What did you do to my sister?!”

“I’m sorry,…”

“Who are you?!”

“ALL OF YOU, DIE!”

“Where am I?!”

“I was not perfect. And I failed to protect her because of it.”

“There is,… someone,… in my visions. A man - with white hair. He plays the violin,…”

“I must fulfill the wish!”

“Nico, make this for me!”

“I was looking for someone,…”

“I said,… STAY!”

“Nico, it’s him! The man in my visions! The one with the markings on his skin!”

“I will protect you, V.”

“Do you know Titanic, V?”

“I think you should go see the world for yourself,…”

“I want to know what’s bothering you,…”

“V!”

“V?”

“V, please,…”

“I love you, V,…”

Vergil closed his eyes and covered his ears to shut the flood of memories away. He screamed, begging for the visions to stop plaguing him.

Then, everything went silent, as simple as that. He could no longer hear her voice, nor see her memories. It was as if the voices and the memories got sucked into oblivion, never to be seen again. The whole world was plunged into total darkness.

And then, he heard it. Another voice but, it sounded different. It did not feel chaotic. It was calm.

“I’ve waited a hundred years. I’d wait,… a million more for you,…”

A male voice sang gently just when a little orb of light appeared from a distance. Vergil took a step forward, longing to reach its warmth and protection,…

“Nothing prepared me for,… what the priviledge of being yours would do,…”

Vergil was transported to a big empty studio where a man was sitting in front of a piano, singing those soothing words.

And then, he saw her right on the corner. It was (Y/N). And she looked just the same, long (H/C) hair tied in a ponytail, graceful movements, perfect posture,…

She looked very much alive and vibrant.

“That beautiful song,… what is it about?” She asked the man on the piano, her curiosity endearing, her voice achingly lovely.

“It’s about a man who regrets the loss of a loved one and the woman who loves him the most. The love of his life. Whom he could no longer be with.” He answered, playing some notes, then sang once more. “If I have only felt the warmth,… within your touch,…”

“Could you,…” she began, positioning herself in the middle of the empty room. “… start from the beginning?”

The man smiled as his hands gently glided on the keys once more.

And just as he began playing, Vergil heard a thunderclap. He turned to look at the windows and realized it was raining outside. He, then, glanced back at the middle of the room, and saw,…

… his former fragile self sitting on the floor with his first demonic familiar, Griffon, just behind him, watching (Y/N) as she began dancing to the man’s song.

He could still remember this exact moment on that abandoned studio that one rainy day. All he could hear by then was the sound of the rain, the thunder, and her light steps.

But, now, it was as if the two memories, his and hers, overlapped and merged into one sad vision, finally enabling him to hear the song she danced to and see once more how graceful and delicate she was.

With the sweet music, the sound of the rain and the thunder vanished. He listened as the man began playing and watched as the girl began dancing.

“I’ve waited a hundred years.

I’d wait a million more,… for you.

Nothing prepared me for,

What the priviledge of being yours,… would do.

If I had only felt,… the warmth within your touch.

If I had only seen,… how you smile,… when you blush.

Or how you curl your lip,… when you concentrate enough,

Oh, I would’ve known,… what I’ve been living for,… all along.

What I’ve been living,… for.”

The music gradually went louder as the girl began twirling, her raw movements in time with the music.

“Your love is my turning page,

Where only the sweetest words,... remain.

Every kiss is a cursive line,

Every touch is a redefining phrase.

I surrender who I've been,... for who you are.

For nothing makes me stronger than,

... your fragile heart.

If I had only felt how it feels,... to be yours,

Oh, I would've known,... what I've been living for,...

... all along,..."

He felt his tears fall down just as the former him began weeping with her movements alone.

He never actually felt,... how it feels to be hers,...

And now, he not only left her, he hurt her, as well,...

... for such a stupid thing as absolute power.

He chose power,... over her.

Over the woman,...

... he now knew he truly loved.

And not because she had the ability to lure Demons like what Fleminger told him, no.

It was because of who and everything she was.

"What I've been living for."

“Ah! I’m so sorry! I would never do this again! I - ”

Vergil snapped from his reverie as he saw his former self hugging her tightly, not wanting to let her go.

"Hey, it's okay." She reassured him. "I'll never leave you. I promise,... "

All of a sudden, the sweet memory abruptly changed to that of the times when he neglected her, rejected her, and that moment when he,...

"I love you, V."

"I choose,... POWER!"

But, still, the song remained,...

"Though we're tethered,

To the story we would tell.

When I saw you,

Oh, I knew we'd tell it well,...

With a whisper,... we will tame the vicious seas.

Like a feather,

Bringing kingdoms to,... their knees,..."

“What matters is that you still have precious people around you, my Lady. You must focus on not losing them, as well.”

"THE PAST WILL WEEP, THE PRESENT WILL KNEEL, AND THE FUTURE WILL DIE!"

Vergil opened his eyes, feeling his tears on his face as he stared at her lifeless body on the ground. And when the thoughts of those painful visions went back to him,...

... he fell on his knees,...

... right before the woman he loved above all else.

And on that heart - wrenching moment, he suddenly felt his own sword drive through him, its tip sticking out of his stomach, dripping with his own blood.

And with that swift, decisive moment, the Sisters of Fate left his body and went directly to whoever stabbed him.

Just like that, they were stolen away from him.

He changed back to his former fragile self, crumbling, wheezing,...

... dying,...

Vergil,... was no more.

He felt the Yamato being pulled away from him as he coughed blood. He fell on the ground just beside (Y/N) and glanced up to find Fleminger with the Yamato.

"There was,... one vital part you didn't know about the story of the Dreadnought, my Lord." The Master, the true enemy and traitor, began, theatrically swinging the Yamato like a cane.

"F - flemin - g - ger,..." V wheezed, his blood staining the ground beneath him, his rage for the man, who was the cause of all this madness, overtaking his whole being.

"There has never been a Dreadnought, or a Shinano Musashi, to begin with. They were only made up. But,... there was a girl named (S/N) (L/N). She was the most perfect girl in all of existence, and my ancestors chose her to be the vessel of Pandemonium, a Demon whose powers rival that of Mundus'. Even greater.

"And Pandemonium did choose her eventually. My ancestors were about to achieve immortality through her when her sister, by the name of (Y/N) (L/N), happened to massacre almost all of them in rage, including the orphans they were raising. Apparently, she was chosen by three equally powerful beings - the Sisters Of Fate, Cassandra, Andromeda, and Galatea - to fulfill another mission. And that mission is to locate you, protect you, and reunite the Sisters back to Sparda's family."

Flemiger walked around V, who was squirming in pain and cowering with fear.

"It seems she succeeded on that mission of hers. You obtained power through her, and I took it from you. I fulfilled my revenge on (Y/N) for murdering my ancestors, thanks to you, my Lord. And for that, I will forever be grateful." The fiend expressed his sincere gratitude towards V. "Oh, and letting Pandemonium, who will only answer to me, destroy everything she wanted was only a collateral."

Fleminger sheathed the Yamato and went to the opposite direction. But, before he left, he turned back to V and smiled at him. He even threw a piece of a familiar leather fabric at him. And in complete horror, he realized whose it was.

It belonged to him,...

Nero,... V thought, his hopes shattering. My,... son,...

"Oh, and have I told you that Galatea, who was the Bearer of The Past, kept (Y/N)'s body safe and in stasis for a hundred years just for you? After all, she was the one who searched through different timelines for the perfect vessel. I did say that the tragedy of Fortuna happened a hundred years ago, am I right, my Lord?" He raised the Yamato at him like a salute of some sort then bowed. "Farewell, son of Sparda."

And with those final words, Fleminger left him.

V felt the whole world around him fall apart as the Dreadnought - (S/N) - started firing her destructive lasers once more.

And who could blame her? After seeing her beloved sister suffer at the hands of the man she loved, could she still think of anyone worthy of redemption?

***

~ I dedicate this chapter to @la-vita for helping me with this fic through XXV.A's German dialogue and her helpful tips for making V IC. Thank you so much. 🖤

~@vergils-daughter , @heaven-on-a-landslide , @micaelagua , @yepps , @sofia-micaela , @lessy86 , @beyond-the-mirror , @gxthghoulfriend , @ehrzeth , @ceruleanworld , @simmy-ships , @boundbysoul , @diabeticsugarush , and @krazy06 . 🖤

***

His hand went to the fatal wound on his stomach. The pain was actually going away as he slowly felt numbness taking over his whole body. Well, he was truly dying now.

And he will die just like that - alone, weak,...

... pathetic,...

And he knew he deserved it.

He crawled towards (Y/N) and reached for her cold hands. He, then, made an effort to pull her towards him for one last embrace.

It was then that he remembered their conversation inside the abandoned studio just after her dance.

"Can you quote something from Shakespeare?" He fondly remembered her asking him with a shy and awkward smile. "After all, Griffon always calls you Shakespeare,..."

"Oh, here will I set up,... my everlasting rest and shake the yoke of,... inauspicious stars from this,... world - wearied,... flesh!"

V quoted, then coughed blood once more. He wrapped (Y/N) in his embrace, not wanting to let her go in this final moment.

"... eyes look,... your last. Arms, take your last embrace. And lips,... oh you the doors of,... breath,... seal with a righteous kiss,... a dateless,... bargain,... to engrossing death,..."

He gently kissed her forehead and took a deep breath, feeling the whole world around him vanish with complete darkness as his eyesight became blurry.

"... if only,... I could go back,... and change,... everything,..."

He whispered, regrets drowning him as his eyelids closed,...

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

"Master, open your eyes!"

"G - gala - t - tea?"

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

~ 12 ~

***

[etlunainmorte]

❤ I See My Future Before Me ❤

***

XXV.B

***

Vergil landed on the wrecked balcony of Fleminger’s mansion, clearly noticing its quite undisturbed state despite the Dreadnought’s massive ambuscade. The sprawling mansion, itself, still stood in one piece. The once majestic ballroom may be reduced to a complete ruin due to the Electric Furies’ attack last Saturday and Nico’s reckless driving last Tuesday but, the rest of the huge building’s parts were still intact.

With the Yamato on his hand, he cautiously entered the dark and silent premises, hoping for Fleminger to show up,…

“My Lord?” A familiar voice uttered from a distance. He squinted his eyes, trying to see through the darkness, when he noticed the Master of the house standing at a safe distance away from the entrance.

“Fleminger?” He called as he went closer, and the moment he did, he was unnerved to see the man looking really pale, like he just lost a lot of blood.

“My Lord!” He exclaimed triumphantly, his hands clasped as if in a prayer. “How wonderful to see you finally succeed!”

“Tell me,” Vergil cut him off. “… the Dreadnought. Why is it still alive? I drove the Yamato through her sister’s body and obtained her power. She should be weakened. I demand an explanation.”

“My Lord,” Fleminger began. “… I’m afraid to say that,… you have not gained everything.”

“And what do you mean by those words?”

“Inside the girl lies,… another. You may have her unmatched strength and her ability to look into the future but, you have yet to gain the most powerful ally.”

At the mere prospect of gaining more power, Vergil’s eyes clearly widened with interest. “And that is?”

Tired eyes red and pale hands rubbing against long, black, satin bishop sleeves, Fleminger spoke to him, “Immortality, my Lord. You have yet to gain her immortality. Acquire this and you shall be able put an end to the Dreadnought, once and for all. Obtain this,…” the man licked his dry lips and smiled at him. “… and you will be the most powerful being in existence. Even greater than Mundus, or Sparda, himself.”

Vergil glanced at the man with scrutinizing eyes, searching for something in Fleminger that could betray him of any kind of deceit. And when he found none, he nodded, then turned away from him.

“Then, I shall obtain it. And put an end to that Demon.”

“Even with obstacles before you?” Fleminger innocently asked just when another visitor arrived at the mansion. Vergil found out that it was none other than his son, Nero, himself.

“He is never an obstacle.” The father stated, regarding his own son with complete apathy. “Just a child who lost his way.”

“YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE!” Nero fumed as blue light radiated from his body, engulfing him and slowly changing him to his Devil form. “V, VERGIL, WHATEVER YOU CALL YOURSELF: FUCK YOU!”

The young Devil Hunter summoned Dante’s sword and charged forward with every intention of beating his father.

But, Vergil had other plans.

With one swift movement, he pulled out what’s left of the black contract markings from his neck, the thick, mysterious ink sticking to his fingers like glue, forcibly summoning both Shadow and Nightmare in the process.

While the golem started mindlessly destroying the place, the demonic feline only looked at Vergil in confusion, asking ‘why?’ without actual words. And this made Nero stop.

“I don’t have time for this.” Vergil told his son. “Play with these nightmares. Kill them, if you must.

“I’m done with them.”

“What are you - ?!”

With those empty words, the cold man simply walked out, changing into the light being once more as he arrived at the balcony, and soared into the skies in pursuit of his final goal. Nero was about to go after him when the abandoned familiars started attacking him.

For a brief moment, Vergil’s eyes scanned the ground below him like an eagle in search of his prey, swiftly descending when he finally spotted the remains of the Dreadnought. He morphed back to his mortal form once his feet touched the ground and made his way towards two distinct figures along the fleshy debris of Shinano Musashi.

That’s when he saw something else,…

… the girl, or what looked like her spirit,…

… who was sitting on the ground just beside her and Dante’s body.

Her head bowed down low, her tears spilling on her lap, her hands on the girl’s limp and bloody hands, she wept for her, her mournful sobs filling the silent place.

And then, Vergil realized,…

“You,…”

The girl looked up, her eyes wide with fear. He knew she wasn’t (Y/N), and yet,…

… the resemblance,…

… was uncanny.

“Vergil,” she uttered, her voice sounding awfully familiar. Like he heard it somewhere before. “… she’s dying. Please, help her. Please!”

And he thought she was already done for! One look at her told him that she’s hopeless with those fatal wounds. No other mortal could survive those.

But, of course, the being was still healing her despite her incorrigible state.

“Why are you still helping her?” He questioned, not caring about (Y/N)’s condition. “She’s dying. There’s nothing you could do to help her.”

The being glanced back at the girl, grasping her hands as tightly as she could as she still tried to heal her. “I,… never lost my faith in her,…” she explained, then looked up once more at him. “… and neither in you, Vergil.”

Her voice,…

The way she uttered his name plucked something in his heart. He knew he had seen her before, heard her voice even. He just couldn’t remember when or how exactly.

“Listen, what you are doing right now is,… futile.” Vergil urged on. “There is no power in this cruel world that could save that weak mortal. Accept her fate and face your one true Master.”

The being closed her eyes, her tears endlessly streaming down, and shook her head in denial.

Vergil sighed. He didn’t want to use the Yamato against her. The being was small and looked weak and fragile, like its resemblance. He knew he could obtain her and her power of immortality. He just needed one last push, or else,…

He pointed at the sky and spoke, “Her sister is wreaking havoc as I speak. If you do not come with me now, the whole world, and humanity, itself, will truly be annihilated, and you would no longer serve any kind of Master.” He prodded on, his patience slowly reaching its limit. “You do not want to make this any more difficult for the both of us.” He exclaimed, then extended a hand towards the being, wanting it to take it. “Come with me. Now.”

The being only looked at him, her facial expression quite difficult to read. “You must understand that, by acquiring my power, not only will you gain immortality, you will also gain the absolute knowledge of my current vessel.”

Absolute knowledge? “I understand.”

“By my sister Andromeda, you became the Protector of The Present. By my sister Cassandra, you gained the Aspect of The Future. By me, the last of the Sisters of Fate, you shall carry the burden of the past. Do you understand?”

Vergil sighed. “Yes.”

The being inhaled, looking like it was actually contemplating its decisions like a normal human being.

Her emotions, her gestures,…

… those eyes,…

In fact, she really was like a normal human girl,…

“Do you, Vergil Sparda, accept all of these conditions?”

“I do.” He gave his unwavering answer.

“Then,” she answered, finally taking Vergil’s hand. “… reunite, we shall, Master Vergil. I pray you do not regret,… your decision.”

The moment their hands made contact, the last of the Sisters of Fate vanished, her body turning into little orbs. These orbs then went directly to Vergil’s skin, merging with him, becoming one with him,…

“V,…”

When he finally succeeded in absorbing the last being, he heard a familiar female voice. His sight was abruptly stolen from him, making him drop the Yamato on the ground. His consciousness was swiftly brought to a place he didn’t know existed. He felt he was floating, hovering for a long time, and when he finally gained his sight back, he saw,…

… her memories.

(Y/N)’s memories.

All of it.

And they came crashing down in huge flashes before him,…

“I love you, Mama! I love you, Papa!”

“STOP HURTING PAPA!”

“NO! DON’T TAKE THEM AWAY! DON’T LEAVE US!”

“I’m here, (S/N). I will never leave you,…”

“What did you do to my sister?!”

“I’m sorry,…”

“Who are you?!”

“ALL OF YOU, DIE!”

“Where am I?!”

“I was not perfect. And I failed to protect her because of it.”

“There is,… someone,… in my visions. A man - with white hair. He plays the violin,…”

“I must fulfill the wish!”

“Nico, make this for me!”

“I was looking for someone,…”

“I said,… STAY!”

“Nico, it’s him! The man in my visions! The one with the markings on his skin!”

“I will protect you, V.”

“Do you know Titanic, V?”

“I think you should go see the world for yourself,…”

“I want to know what’s bothering you,…”

“V!”

“V?”

“V, please,…”

“I love you, V,…”

Vergil closed his eyes and covered his ears to shut the flood of memories away. He screamed, begging for the visions to stop plaguing him.

Then, everything went silent, as simple as that. He could no longer hear her voice, nor see her memories. It was as if the voices and the memories got sucked into oblivion, never to be seen again. The whole world was plunged into total darkness.

And then, he heard it. Another voice but, it sounded different. It did not feel chaotic. It was calm.

“I’ve waited a hundred years. I’d wait,… a million more for you,…”

A male voice sang gently just when a little orb of light appeared from a distance. Vergil took a step forward, longing to reach its warmth and protection,…

“Nothing prepared me for,… what the privilege of being yours would do,…”

Vergil was transported to a big empty studio where a man was sitting in front of a piano, singing those soothing words.

And then, he saw her right on the corner. It was (Y/N). And she looked just the same, long (H/C) hair tied in a ponytail, graceful movements, perfect posture,…

She looked very much alive and vibrant.

“That beautiful song,… what is it about?” She asked the man on the piano, her curiosity endearing, her voice achingly lovely.

“It’s about a man who regrets the loss of a loved one and the woman who loves him the most. The love of his life. Whom he could no longer be with.” He answered, playing some notes, then sang once more. “If I have only felt the warmth,… within your touch,…”

“Could you,…” she began, positioning herself in the middle of the empty room. “… start from the beginning?”

The man smiled as his hands gently glided on the keys once more.

And just as he began playing, Vergil heard a thunderclap. He turned to look at the windows and realized it was raining outside. He, then, glanced back at the middle of the room, and saw,…

… his former fragile self sitting on the floor with his first demonic familiar, Griffon, just behind him, watching (Y/N) as she began dancing to the man’s song.

He could still remember this exact moment on that abandoned studio that one rainy day. All he could hear by then was the sound of the rain, the thunder, and her light steps.

But, now, it was as if the two memories, his and hers, overlapped and merged into one sad vision, finally enabling him to hear the song she danced to and see once more how graceful and delicate she was.

With the sweet music, the sound of the rain and the thunder vanished. He listened as the man began playing and watched as the girl began dancing.

“I’ve waited a hundred years.

I’d wait a million more,… for you.

Nothing prepared me for,

What the privilege of being yours,… would do.

If I had only felt,… the warmth within your touch.

If I had only seen,… how you smile,… when you blush.

Or how you curl your lip,… when you concentrate enough,

Oh, I would’ve known,… what I’ve been living for,… all along.

What I’ve been living,… for.”

The music gradually went louder as the girl began twirling, her raw movements in time with the music.

“Your love is my turning page,

Where only the sweetest words,… remain.

Every kiss is a cursive line,

Every touch is a redefining phrase.

I surrender who I’ve been,… for who you are.

For nothing makes me stronger than,

… your fragile heart.

If I had only felt how it feels,… to be yours,

Oh, I would’ve known,… what I’ve been living for,…

… all along,…”

He felt his tears fall down just as the former him began weeping with her movements alone.

He never actually felt,… how it feels to be hers,…

And now, he not only left her, he hurt her, as well,…

… for such a stupid thing as absolute power.

He chose power,… over her.

Over the woman,…

… he now knew he truly loved.

And not because she had the ability to lure Demons like what Fleminger told him, no.

It was because of who and everything she was.

“What I’ve been living for.”

“Ah! I’m so sorry! I would never do this again! I - ”

Vergil snapped from his reverie as he saw his former self hugging her tightly, not wanting to let her go.

“Hey, it’s okay.” She reassured him. “I’ll never leave you. I promise,… ”

All of a sudden, the sweet memory abruptly changed to that of the times when he neglected her, rejected her, and that moment when he,…

“I love you, V.”

“I choose,… POWER!”

But, still, the song remained,…

“Though we’re tethered,

To the story we would tell.

When I saw you,

Oh, I knew we’d tell it well,…

With a whisper,… we will tame the vicious seas.

Like a feather,

Bringing kingdoms to,… their knees,…”

“What matters is that you still have precious people around you, my Lady. You must focus on not losing them, as well.”

“THE PAST WILL WEEP, THE PRESENT WILL KNEEL, AND THE FUTURE WILL DIE!”

Vergil opened his eyes, feeling his tears on his face as he stared at her lifeless body on the ground. And when the thoughts of those painful visions went back to him,…

… he fell on his knees,…

… right before the woman he loved above all else.

And on that heart - wrenching moment, he suddenly felt his own sword drive through him, its tip sticking out of his stomach, dripping with his own blood.

And with that swift, decisive moment, the Sisters of Fate left his body and went directly to whoever stabbed him.

Just like that, they were stolen away from him.

He changed back to his former fragile self, crumbling, wheezing,…

… dying,…

Vergil,… was no more.

He felt the Yamato being pulled away from him as he coughed blood. He fell on the ground just beside (Y/N) and glanced up to find Fleminger with the Yamato.

“There was,… one vital part you didn’t know about the story of the Dreadnought, my Lord.” The Master, the true enemy and traitor, began, theatrically swinging the Yamato like a cane.

“F - flemin - g - ger,…” V wheezed, his blood staining the ground beneath him, his rage for the man, who was the cause of all this madness, overtaking his whole being.

“There has never been a Dreadnought, or a Shinano Musashi, to begin with. They were only made up. But,… there was a girl named (S/N) (L/N). She was the most perfect girl in all of existence, and my ancestors chose her to be the vessel of Pandemonium, a Demon whose powers rival that of Mundus’. Even greater.

"And Pandemonium did choose her eventually. My ancestors were about to achieve immortality through her when her sister, by the name of (Y/N) (L/N), happened to massacre almost all of them in rage, including the orphans they were raising. Apparently, she was chosen by three equally powerful beings - the Sisters Of Fate, Cassandra, Andromeda, and Galatea - to fulfill another mission. And that mission is to locate you, protect you, and reunite the Sisters back to Sparda’s family.”

Flemiger walked around V, who was squirming in pain and cowering with fear.

“It seems she succeeded on that mission of hers. You obtained power through her, and I took it from you. I fulfilled my revenge on (Y/N) for murdering my ancestors, thanks to you, my Lord. And for that, I will forever be grateful.” The fiend expressed his sincere gratitude towards V. “Oh, and letting Pandemonium, who will only answer to me, destroy everything she wanted was only a collateral.”

Fleminger sheathed the Yamato and went to the opposite direction. But, before he left, he turned back to V and smiled at him. He even threw a piece of a familiar leather fabric at him. And in complete horror, he realized whose it was.

It belonged to him,…

Nero,… V thought, his hopes shattering. My,… son,…

“Oh, and have I told you that Galatea, who was the Bearer of The Past, kept (Y/N)’s body safe and in stasis for a hundred years just for you? After all, she was the one who searched through different timelines for the perfect vessel. I did say that the tragedy of Fortuna happened a hundred years ago, am I right, my Lord?” He raised the Yamato at him like a salute of some sort then bowed. “Farewell, son of Sparda.”

And with those final words, Fleminger left him.

V felt the whole world around him fall apart as the Dreadnought - (S/N) - started firing her destructive lasers once more.

And who could blame her? After seeing her beloved sister suffer at the hands of the man she loved, could she still think of anyone worthy of redemption?

***

His hand went to the fatal wound on his stomach. The pain was actually going away as he slowly felt numbness taking over his whole body. Well, he was truly dying now.

And he will die just like that - alone, weak,…

… pathetic,…

And he knew he deserved it.

He crawled towards (Y/N) and reached for her cold hands. He, then, made an effort to pull her towards him for one last embrace.

It was then that he remembered their conversation inside the abandoned studio just after her dance.

“Can you quote something from Shakespeare?” He fondly remembered her asking him with a shy and awkward smile. “After all, Griffon always calls you Shakespeare,…”

“Oh, here will I set up,… my everlasting rest and shake the yoke of,… inauspicious stars from this,… world - wearied,… flesh!”

V quoted, then coughed blood once more. He wrapped (Y/N) in his embrace, not wanting to let her go in this final moment.

“… eyes look,… your last. Arms, take your last embrace. And lips,… oh you the doors of,… breath,… seal with a righteous kiss,… a dateless,… bargain,… to engrossing death,…”

He gently kissed her forehead and took a deep breath, feeling the whole world around him vanish with complete darkness as his eyesight became blurry.

“… if only,… I could go back,… and change,… everything,…”

He whispered, regrets drowning him as his eyelids closed,…

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

“Master, open your eyes!”

“G - gala - t - tea?”

***

❤❤❤

***

[lulusoblue]

So I read the English summary of the Deadly Fortune novelisations of DMC4 and found these tidbits interesting. Chances are there’s people who already know this stuff but what the hell:

Nero

Is supposedly around 16-17 years old by the time of DMC4 (or at least the novelised version).

In-universe, Nero was named for the dark blanket he was swaddled in when discovered. Meta reason is the devs wanted to change his name from Rodan because they felt it sounded too intellectual after changing up his character, and Nero stuck.

All of the other reindeer children taunted Nero by saying he was the bastard child of a prostitute, because he was left at Fortuna’s orphanage as a baby and nobody knew of any pregnant woman in the city whose baby just disappeared. It’s a small island.

Credo and Kyrie’s parents took a liking to Nero because his white hair reminded them of the one they worshipped (Sparda). They died during the first demon attack on Fortuna City, and it was this event that caused Nero to lose any faith in god and become an atheist.

Nero joined the Order because he looked up to Credo and wanted to follow in his footsteps. Credo also taught Nero how to sword fight.

^ This point is interesting because it changes how you can view Nero’s relationship with Credo. It’s no longer “big brother thinks little sister’s boyfriend is a dick”, it’s actually “surrogate big brother figure is tired and wants Nero to stop being a little shit and sit up straight during a sermon goshdangit���. Also, Nero, an atheist teenage dirtbag with a gun (see below) and a bad attitude, is still a knight of the Order because of nepotism.

The Order doesn’t like that Nero uses a firearm because Sparda wasn’t depicted using firearms. Nero knew this and built Blue Rose anyway (which actually has a reason for double the bullet other than because it looks cool. still looks cool)

The blue ghost/spirit that projects behind Nero during his Devil Trigger isn’t Sparda or Vergil: it’s Nero’s soul.

In the novel, when Nero has been stabbed by Agnus and is knocking on death’s door, he has a dream sequence where he talks to an unknown man (psht yeah right it’s Vergil) who asks him what his soul wants. Nero says “you first” and Unknown (Vergil) says “Power.” Nero shrugs and says “yeah same I guess”

^ Real talk though, with this and the in-game monologue Nero gives when he gets Yamato and activates his Devil Trigger for the first time, there’s a similarity and a difference between him and Vergil. Vergil sought power to surpass his father, while Nero seeks power to protect the one he loves (Kyrie).

Starts his own demon-hunting business at the end of Deadly Fortune, and receives a Devil May Cry neon sign from Dante for said business. Both of these we see are canon if we judge from the DMC5 trailer.

Dante

Doesn’t keep hold of his devil arms for long, he usually sells them to a dealer to help pay off his debts (which is a nod to the anime it seems)

“Hitting up a couple of tourist sites” IS what Dante ended up doing instead of taking out the Order right away. Looking for what Fortuna had on/thought of his father, sure, but goddammit Dante.

Doesn’t really care about confirming if Nero is Vergil’s son or not, he seems fine knowing that there’s another potential descendant of Sparda in the world.

Actually had Gilgamesh, Pandora, and Lucifer prior to the events of the game. Trish stole them to gift them to the Order as Gloria to get bonus points in trust.

Obtains and uses said devil arms before defeating Echidna, Bael, and Berial. He performed the greatest scene ever (the Lucifer attack) on a very confused Berial instead of the Hell Gate.

Presumably still in debt from his bad luck in the anime series.

Sensed Nero’s power from Fortuna Castle when Nero’s DT first activated, apparently enough to trigger his own DT for a split second. The reasoning given seems to be that it’s a power felt by others of the same blood/bloodline.

Knew how to use Yamato by just imitating what he remembered Vergil doing. Comments on himself using Yamato at one point saying “not bad for an imitation”, so I can only imagine how many pieces the last Hell Gate would end up in if Vergil had done his own handiwork.

Vergil

Was as Extra™ in his flashback interaction with Sanctus as most people write him to be. Like he actually asks Sanctus “Who will you worship if someone proves themselves stronger than your Saviour? Because lemme tell ya I wanna be the very best like no-one ever was, to surpass my father is my real test, to kick my brother’s ass is my cause” etc.

^ He was also like 17 or something when this happened so his Extra™ potential was arguably close to its peak.

Bad news: we still don’t have a clue who he banged for Nero to be conceived, so we don’t get an idea of what kind of badass demon-hybrid impressing human(?) woman got Vergil’s fancy.

Good news: we still don’t have a clue who he banged for Nero to be conceived, so fanon can still go nuts until maybe next year.

Kyrie

Around a year older than Nero.

Had to be the one to tell the remaining residents of Fortuna what had actually, presumably because no-one was going to believe anything a grumpy teenager with a demon arm said on this island.

Most people believed what Kyrie had told them (some information being given to her from Nero to fill in gaps).

There were a few people who actually called Kyrie a liar about what the Order was really planning. These people went on to believe that the Order died protecting the island from demons. (These people are what I personally call Losers)

She and Nero are confirmed to be living in an apartment together by the end of the novel.

Kyrie went on to help people recover from the demon attack while Nero was starting his demon hunting business.

Kyrie encourages Nero not to hide his demon arm anymore, which he was hesitant about for fear of public rejection.

Cinnamon roll too good for this world, too pure. That’s not in the novel I just wanted to clarify this fact.

Lady

Actually got Dante for the Fortuna job because their Nelo Angelos were kill-stealing from her. This happened for a while.

Instead of bringing just the one roll of cash, in the novel she goes the next step: she brings ALL the money from the job and just deducts from the total for things like damages, having to hire boats, getting Lady to assist in protecting the civilians, and for the fact that things escalated the way the way they did.

Trish

Stole some devil arms the Order had in storage. Even if she and Dante ended up with that one roll of cash, at least they have stuff to sell to make up for it.

Devil Arms

This I did not know because I have yet to play DMC3. Devil Arms form out of two methods, if I understand this right:

The defeated demon recognises they have been bested, and willingly offers their power to their opponent in the form of a weapon. (This is supposedly seen with the likes of Cerberus in DMC3)

The defeated demon knows in their heart that they have been bested, and gets transformed into a weapon unwillingly. (Lucifer is said to be an example of this in the novel)

[of-pale]

Vergil finds a new hobby

Hobbies were a luxury, an indulgence Vergil could scarcely afford throughout his stormy existence. He was accustomed to a life of constant movement and perpetual fight for survival, each step a calculation to outmanoeuvre the demons relentlessly pursuing him. Now, however, his circumstances had drastically changed and he had to figure out how to stop and truly live. It was a strange concept, but with his brother's office as a place of sanctuary he could always return to and an abundance of free time to spare, he had to embrace just living.

Not quite sure what to make of it, he fell back on his old habit of reading. Yet, according to the members of Devil May Cry, his ‘obsession’ with books hardly qualified as a hobby; more seen as a chore or a sinister ploy to seek out power. Though some tried to encourage him to explore new hobbies, their suggestions often fell flat and failed to pique his interest.

Of all people, it was Nico who managed to recommend a compelling diversion—a DVD of a vintage painting show titled 'The Joy of Painting'. Its familiar appearance drew him in, like staring at nostalgic pieces of a bygone era he could scarcely recall from a lifetime ago. She told him to give it a shot since ‘it was all the rage back in its hay day for a reason’. Glimpsing through fragments of the show, it appeared to be a worthy time investment where his attention to detail would surely pay off.

On a day when Dante was out terrorising some unfortunate ice cream parlour for its special deal on strawberry sundaes, Vergil seized the opportunity to relax uninterrupted. After setting up the canvas and the paints, he followed Nico's instructions to play the show on the DVD player—apparently a technological upgrade to the VHS players he vaguely remembers. It felt somewhat humiliating to follow instructions that seemed to be written for a child to comprehend:

press the tiny button next to the rectangle;

place the circular thing inside the pocket that slides out;

wait till the devices figures out its head from its ass;

on the remote, use the buttons with triangles pointing up and down to select an episode on screen;

oh yeah, that sideways triangle in the middle there is the select button;

It wasn't far off from describing an infant's toy where different shapes are passed through their respective holes. ‘That's right, the square goes into the square shaped hole. Yeah! You got it!’

Perhaps, there was still hope for him as he successfully followed the instructional cookie trail, simple enough for a four-year-old to navigate, and managed to play the show on the old TV. Settling comfortably in his seat, he paid close attention to the screen. The hosts' serene attitude and passion was contagious, and the painting process itself proved to be rather soothing. Although Vergil wasn't exactly a skilled artisan, the show catered well to artists of all levels. It was something he could improve upon and, as odd as it was, he now had all the time to spare for it.

“I'm gonna wash the brush and we’ll just blend that out. As you know, we wash our brushes with odourless paint thinner and we have a lot of fun.” The host dipped the brush into a bucket on the side. “Just shake off the excess,” he lightly shook the brush, following up with a practised motion of rhythmically smacking it against the leg of the easel stand. Almost chuckling, the host said one of his signature phrases, “And beat the devil out of it.”

Vergil looked down at his brush... menacingly.

[buns-with-a-book]

The Night of the Long Vigil

For Day Three of DMCWeek2020, the prompt filled this time was Fight! And there is a fight here alright! Just thrown waaaay in the past.

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: OC, Kyrie, Vergil, Kyle, Julio, Carlo (mentioned) Dante (cameo), Nero (cameo), Sparda (flashback) Tags: @furyeclipse @nimnox @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate @queenmuzz @astral-space-dragon

Summary: One Christmas Eve, Cassandra tells the tale of the Midnight Vigil to Cordelia, Julio, Kyle, and Carlo (with the rest of the crew listening in)

Cassandra would never get tired of Christmas celebrations. And this Christmas Eve was looking to be the best one yet. The cool winter nights of Fortuna was a far cry from Red Grave City, blanketed by snow. Cassandra watched as the three boys, Julio, Kyle, and Carlo, ran around Dante and Nero with their limitless energy. Cordelia was helping Kyrie with making the cake for dessert. Cassandra knew Cordelia was easily overwhelmed by too much energy and the three boys Kyrie and Nero were fostering were nothing but high energy.

“Dove? Is it done now?” Cordelia asked, looking to Kyrie. On the counter was the cake tin, full of chocolate cake batter and ready to be cooked. Kyrie smiled and nodded.

“It’s ready to go into the oven.” She hummed. She pulled on oven mitts and carefully took the cake tin to place in the oven. Cordelia stared out the kitchen window, watching Dante and Nero play with the boys.

“They’re a bit much…” Cordelia murmured. Kyrie gently stroked her hair.

“I understand. But I care about them deeply. I wouldn’t give up their energy for the world.” Kyrie smiled to Cordelia.

“And their energy can tire out Dante and Nero. I’ll take sleepy Dante anyday.” Cassandra joked. “Hmm...man, this brings back memories.” She murmured.

“Memories of what?” Kyrie asked. Cassandra blinked.

“Er...well…” She looked to Cordelia. “It’s a tradition from Eternis Brillia.” She began. Cordelia looked at her in confusion. Relaxing, Cassandra continued. “In Eternis Brillia, the concept of Christmas being all holly jolly isn’t a thing. Christmas Eve is known as The Night of the Midnight Vigil while Christmas Day is known as Dawning Day. It’s to celebrate the founding of the city, the day where the titular saints defended what would become the city from the Prince of Darkness and his armies.”

“Oh my…” Kyrie murmured in awe.

“Well, I should add an ‘allegedly’ to that. The only primary source of that time is an epic poem, The Night of the Midnight Vigil. Whether that poem is a legitimate primary source or propaganda is anyone’s guess.” Cassandra shrugged. “Regardless, the whole event is somber to remember those who died to help found the city. It’s also to ‘keep vigil’ for an incoming army of demons, just like the first watchers did long ago.”

"Demons like me and our family?" Cordelia asked sadly. Cassandra grimaced before looking out the window.

“...yes. But! They believe so fervently that everything outside of their walls is evil that they don’t even think about stepping foot outside. I doubt they’ll come all the way to Red Grave City or Fortuna.” Cassandra smiled at Cordelia. She knew that the people of Eternis Brillia never dreamed of stepping outside their walls, content with their lives behind them. “We’ll be just fine.”

“Okie.” She nodded. Cassandra looked out the window, watching as the boys stumbled on in, tired from their roughhousing. Dante and Nero flopped down on the couch, flanking Vergil (who had been quietly sipping tea Kyrie offered him). The three boys ran to the kitchen for water to rehydrate. Cordelia got off the stepstool she used to help Kyrie make the cake and ran over to Dante, curling up in his lap. Dante let out a pleased hum, holding the spirit child close and purring happily.

“Cassandra?” Vergil asked. She perked up, walking over to him. “Perhaps you can regale us with more of Dawning Day. I have never heard of such a celebration before.”

“Makes sense.” Cassandra said, making a cup of warm tea. “It’s basically Christmas but somber and serious. As Dante would so eloquently put it, boring. It’s all ritual, Latin songs that are older than all of us combined, and all in a freezing cold cathedral with no heating.”

“It sounds much like the Winter Solstice celebration.” Kyrie added. “But now that Fortuna has opened up to the world, that includes the Christmas traditions. I vastly prefer being here than at the church.”

“I think you mentioned that you had to sing for the ceremonies?” Cassandra asked. Kyrie nodded. “I can see how Nero would come and attend, just to hear you sing.” She ignored the awkward squawk she got from her adopted son. Kyrie laughed and nodded.

“I remember Nero always giving me a chocolate orange after my performances.” Kyrie hummed nostalgically. “He’s so sweet.”

“I know right?” Cassandra chuckled, taking the warm mug of tea. She walked over to the plush chair, ruffling Nero’s silver hair as she went. Taking a seat, she let out a sigh.

“I’m more interested in this epic poem you spoke of.” Vergil spoke up again. Cassandra raised an eyebrow.

“I suppose you would, considering it deals with the defeat of the Prince of Darkness.” She looked to Dante, knowing full well his inner devil revealed her saying his true name. “The Tale of the Midnight Vigil is basically the Anead of Eternis Brillia. Allegedly, it comes before the Legendary Dark Knight awoke to justice. I know some even say that this moment was when that awakening happened but…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. But I do know the tale…”

Demons and humans screamed out their battle cries, rain pouring around the armored saint. Mud splattered from the combat around them, tainted red and black from blood.

But for Deirdre, armored in silver and white silken filaments, her golden hair braided with silk and silver spikes, there was only one object between her and the Prince of Darkness: Sparda, the prince’s favored general. Infernal simmering red met calm determined blue. Deirdre tightened her grip on the divine rapier Astra, faintly glowing with the power of the Earthmother. Sparda let out a low growl, tightening his grip on his eponymous sword. The world seemed to freeze around them, as if demons and mortal affairs mattered little to the two warriors, trying to intimidate the other into stepping down, into giving up and letting the demons rip apart the last bastion of humanity in the Highlands.

Then, a booming voice behind Sparda, speaking in the demonic tongue. Deirdre glanced up to the demon prince, his stone form reaching over and uttering a command to his general. Sparda charged forward, Deirdre deflecting the greatsword with Astra. The two blades strained against each other before Deirdre thrust her shield forward, breaking the stalemate between them before she thrust Astra forward. Sparda deflected the thrust and countered with his own thrust, to which Deirdre dodged by jumping to the side. Sparda swiped his blade to her, deflected once again by Deirdre’s Astra.

‘There’s no way I can defeat Sparda! Unless…’ She glanced back before smirking. She let Sparda push her back, flipping backward. Sparda thrust forward with his blade. She leapt up, landing on the edge of the blade before using it as a springboard. She turned, facing Mundus, before blazing blue stars hovered next to her hand. She threw the stars forward, striking Mundus’ wings with force. The prince roared in indignation, his wings cracking and visibly breaking off. Deirdre fell, her bloodied Clydesdale Fionn leaping out from the mass of demons to break her fall. She clung onto his bloodied mane as he rode through the demon masses and trampling them underfoot. Mundus roared out some sort of command. Whatever it was, the demons began to retreat enmasse. The soldiers of Eternis Brillia followed, slaying the stragglers.

Deirdre watched as Sparda looked back at her, still standing, still strong as ever. She felt the rain wash the sweat off her, her chest heaving. She patted Fionn’s neck with a tired smile.

“Good boy. You did well.”

“And thus, the demonic armies were sent away and Eternis Brillia lived to see another sunrise.” She finished the tale. She looked down at the three boys, eyes wide at the tale. “Of course, that’s just an epic poem. Who knows if the battle happened as it was written? That poem was written down centuries after the battle.” Cassandra rubbed the scar on her hand, the scar of Astra’s shattering.

“Wooow...that was so cool!” Julio said.

“What happened to Miss Deirdre?” Kyle asked.

“She became the first Archbishop of the Earthfaith. She ruled Eternis Brillia with her fellow Maidens: Eirika, Sigrun, Leanne, and Julia. She became a saint-like figure in the mythology of the Earthfaith.” She explained.

“Do you think she’s proud of you?” Julio asked. Cassandra made a face. She hadn’t even considered that sort of possibility, even when they met in the Green Fields. She was quiet from the question. “Miss Cassandra?”

“I don’t know. But I’m not going to vy for her pride. The choices I made were all mine and I’m not going to apologize for them.” Her eyes caught Vergil’s, who she noted was staring quite intently at her. The oven suddenly rang out, earning a cheer from the three boys.

“Cake’s ready!” Kyrie called, leaning down to take the cake out of the oven. Dante let out a whoop, lifting up Cordelia in his arms. Nero followed the boys into the kitchen, leaving her and Vergil where they sat.

“Vergil?” Cassandra asked, standing up. Vergil did the same and walked over to her, giving her a hug. “What’s with the sudden affection?”

“Do you ever regret anything you did?” He asked softly. Cassandra lowered her head.

“Well...probably that I didn’t see Cordelia sooner. That’s the only thing I really feel sorry for. Perhaps she would’ve been less lonely if I had seen her before...you know, everything.” He hummed, lowering his head to rest his lips against her head.

“There are many things I regret in my life…” He admitted, so soft she could barely hear him. “Key among them being absent for Nero. Your bravery still inspires me.”

“Bravery?” Cassandra asked, a smile on her lips. “Well, you can’t change the past unless you wanna fuck up the future, so I said to myself ‘make the most out of every day, because you can’t change what you’ve done’. I can’t change the fact I ran away from home for the unknown so I made the best of each day I had out here.” She explained. “You just...have to keep going. No matter what happens. Because when it’s out there, you can’t take it back. Words and actions.” Vergil nodded.

“I see.” He looked up. “Shall we go have cake?”

“Before the boys eat it all? Yes.”

[buns-with-a-book]

Holding

Because nothing is more wholesome than hand holding. 

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Vergil/OC, V/OC, Platonic Dante/OC Tags: @nimnox​ @furyeclipse​ @synchronmurmurs​

Summary: Two times Cassandra held Vergil’s hands and the time he holds hers. 

“And get outta here, you fuckin’ bampot!” Cassandra snarled, slicing at the last of the demons. What responded to her was a raspy death rattle, the demon collapsing before her. Cassandra let Astra snap out of existence, panting and smiling as what lay before her were smears of demon blood. Her patrols around Red Grave City had made her see more demonic activity, something that she told Dante. She voiced concern that something big was going to happen soon, if demonic activity was starting to pick up.

A raspy breath caught her attention. It didn’t sound demonic, no, it sounded so very human. She whipped around.

“Hey! If you’re hurt, better make yourself known!” She called, following the wheezing breath. The sound led her to a man, covered by a tattered brown cloak. That raspy low breathing worried her. She knelt down, still a small distance away from him. The man glanced to her, she noticed a familiar pair of strikingly familiar blue eyes hiding under the cloak.

“Go away.” The man growled, an attempt to intimidate. Cassandra looked to his hands.

“You’re hurt.”

“I will be fine.”

“Please, let me help.” She held out her hands. The man stared at them, she could see him debate with himself without even looking at his eyes.

“Very well, if you’re going to be persistent about it.” There was a tinge of bitterness in his voice, as if he regarded her more of a nuisance he had to deal with in the moment that would not last. It was something she was used to.

“Just hold out your hands, I’ll handle the rest.” She said, moving closer to him. The stranger, hesitantly, held out his hands. She noticed the fingerless gloves but said nothing about removing them. Some people had gloves for reasons, like Dante, and she worked around them to give her healing just fine. Now, with a closer look at his face, she realized the extent of his state. His body was cracked, as if inches away from falling apart. Her thumbs carefully grazed exposed skin, her eyes fluttering closed. A faint aura swirled at their connected hands, the Crest doing it’s work. She frowned a little at the resistance her magic met, as if his state was a result of something far more devastating that she could ever fathom.

“It hurts.” His dry voice broke her out of her thoughts.

“Healing always hurts.” Cassandra replied simply. “That means it’s working.” She ignored the dismissive snort she received from him. After a few minutes, she pulled back her hands. “I wish I could do more, but I’m afraid there’s only so much I can do for you.” She couldn’t describe his state, a sense of brokenness that reached deep into his soul. He stood up.

“I will take my leave.” He whispered. She quickly got up.

“Wait!” He stopped. “Can I have your name?” A quiet fell between them. “I’m Cassandra, by the way.” He glanced back to her from under the hood of his cloak.

“I have to go.” Cassandra frowned at his curt words.

“Very well. Take care, stranger. Red Grave City is hardly safe at night.” She nodded, watching him walk away. Something about him told her that they would meet again.

---

“V, just sit down for a moment.” Cassandra huffed, easing him to a gnarled portion of tree.

“I can-”

“Don’t ‘I cannot rest’ me, mister.” Her grip tightened on the black-clad poet. “You’re crumbling apart before my very eyes. If you want to have a hope of getting to Urizen before Dante or Nero do, then you need to be as strong as possible.” Her gaze moved down to his hands. Her heart ached seeing the state of them, crumbling and turning to dust before her eyes. V had so little time left...she pushed the thought out of her head.  She closed her eyes, letting the familiar healing power of the Crest of Saint Julia move through her hands into V’s. A familiar sensation met her, of a soul so broken it hurt her as well. She wasn’t sure if it was from the foul pulsations of the Qliphoth tree hindering the effectiveness of her Crest or how far deep the slow decay of V’s very body was.

V took back his hands, taking hers instead. She looked up, the Crest fading.

“Cassandra.” V began, voice soft. “Save your strength. If you expend your energy trying to heal me, you will not have what is needed to stop Urizen.”

“Neither will you.” She retorted before immediately regretting it. She had spent the past month fighting demons in an uprooted Red Grave City, saving those who could be saved, giving the final rites to those that didn’t make it, all of it with V. And now, seeing him crumble away into dust, like the very dust that came from Qliphoth roots when the pulsating tumor, the storage of all that blood, burst and deprived them of their life…her mind was in a tumultuous state of protectiveness and anxiety. She looked to V, seeing his gaze was still on their entwined hands.

“I must admit...when all of this is done, will you still think fondly of me?” She blinked in confusion.

“Why do you ask that?”

“I…” His grip tightened on her hands. “I am not who I seem, Cassandra.”

“Then who are you, really?” His eyes seemed distant.

“When we defeat Urizen, I will tell you everything. I promise.” He said, slowly getting up. Cassandra quickly got up, Astra snapping back into existence.

“You keep saying that. It better be worth it, Mr. Poetry.” V chuckled a little.

“Dante’s rubbed off on you.”

“The moment he figures out how to get his mouth around Gaelic, everyone in Devil May Cry is doomed. He wants to know all the swears.” Cassandra chuckled, feeling her spirit lift a little.

“Well, I suppose you cannot let that happen, can you?”

“Oh no. I’m only gonna teach him how to embarrass himself.” She paused. “Provided he doesn’t embarrass himself by mispronouncing what I taught him.”

“I pray I see that myself one day.” V chuckled at the thought. “But, for now, we have wasted enough time. We must press on.” Cassandra let out a sigh.

“Deeper into the vampiric hell tree we go.” She hoped all of this was worth it.

--- Cassandra hummed softly into the air, listening to the jukebox. It had been six months since Dante and Vergil disappeared, to the Underworld to end the Qliphoth tree at its roots according to Nero. He got a new arm from the whole ordeal, which was good. She figured. It was still weird.

But life still went on, even without the brothers around. As of the hour, Lady and Trish were busy on missions of their own, leaving her to man the fort that was the shop. She had spent the first few solo mannings cleaning up the shop to make it far more presentable for anybody coming into the front door. As weeks passed into months, Cassandra found herself missing the two brothers. Dante, of course, was the man she had adopted as the big brother she never had. As for Vergil, the enigmatic elder brother to Dante, she wondered how much of him was V and how much was Vergil himself. She closed her eyes, remembering the first time she met him. It wasn’t him as V, she knew that. Those smoldering ice blue eyes, she had seen them before. She had met him before the Qliphoth tree burst from the ground, crumbling apart as he hid from the demons that she slew.

Just like when he was V.

Cassandra looked to the pictures on the desk. The portrait of the woman she had come to know as Dante’s mother remained, her painted gaze staring back at her. Next to the portrait was a picture of the crew; her, Dante, Lady, Trish, and Nero. Cassandra smiled at the sight, taken well before the tree uprooted the city. Nero still had his demonic arm, a strange sight at the time but she hardly questioned anyone Dante trusted. She looked to the newspaper that was laid upon her desk, detailing the reconstruction efforts the city was going through to recover from the demonic attack. She folded up the newspaper and set it aside, just as the jukebox stopped it’s track. She sighed and got up, walking over to pick a new song. She heard the door open.

“Devil May Cr-” She stood up, turning to greet whoever came in, but stopped in her tracks. Dante grinned widely as he entered, as if nothing had changed, with Vergil silently trailing behind her.

“Cass!” He said cheerfully. She just stood there, half expecting the two to just disappear. “What, did you miss my mug that bad?”

“Dante you fucking loon!” She snapped. “Making your sister worry like that for six months, you’re gonna regret the demons not kicking your ass sooner!” She stormed over. Before Dante could stop her, she hooked her arms around the twins, holding them close. “I fucking missed you, you crazy son of a bitch.” Dante grinned, ruffling her hair.

“Cass, I couldn’t understand half of what you were saying.”

“Oh, piss off.” She squeezed the two. “Just wait until Lady and Trish return. They’re steamed you gave the deed to the place to Morrison.” She looked at the two. “Fuck, you’re covered in demon gore.” Dante rubbed the back of his neck.

“We...we kinda just came back from the Underworld.” He said, his voice a little sheepish. Cassandra let out a sigh and stepped back.

“Get your ass in the shower Dante. Me and the girls have been keeping the place running with paying the bills.” Dante perked up at the idea of hot water and promptly went upstairs. She looked to Vergil, who was still. His eyes were closed, as if he was remembering something. “Vergil?”

“I have not heard you that mad since you fought Urizen in the depths of the tree.” He said. Cassandra could hear a hint of pain at the memory. She knew she had screamed curses and swears at Urizen, mostly for uprooting the tree and making her life hell for the month it stood.

“I can only imagine how unintelligible I was in the moment. I slip back into my native Gaelic when I’m pissed, according to Dante.”

“Certainly not angry enough to do so in the moment.” Vergil nodded.

“There’s two showers. One downstairs and one upstairs, if you need it.” She looked up and down Vergil. He certainly wasn’t as gore covered as Dante was (the rush of emotions made her ignore that to finally hug him again) but there were certainly splatters of demon blood on him. Even after the offer, he remained still.

“Cassandra. Do you remember what I asked you, in the depths of the Qliphoth tree?” She blinked, confused at his question.

“I...hm…” She thought about it. “If I recall correctly, you asked if I would still be fond of you after everything that’s happened.” He nodded. “Well.” She clapped her hands together. “Your actions, however unintentional, harmed not only Dante and Nero, but thrust Lady and Trish into harm’s way, as well as myself.” Vergil remained stoic, watching her carefully. “However, you also tried to mitigate the damage onto the populace of Red Grave City from the tree’s hunger as V.” She paused.

“If you are just going to throw my failures at me, I will take my leave.”

“Hold on. There’s a point I’m getting to here.” She said. “Obviously, Dante thinks there’s some good in you, because I doubt he would’ve come here so casually with you in tow.” She took his hands, staring at them. “Neither does Nero, so willing to throw himself from the van to pursue you. And you stand here, so he holds something akin to fondness.” She glanced up at Vergil, still giving her a cold look, as if waiting for her to finally make her point. “I’m going to give you a chance Vergil. Dante has, Nero has, so I shall as well.” Her hand carefully slipped into Vergil’s, grip loose to let him pull away as he wished. “On one condition.”

“What.”

“Spar with me.” Cassandra could feel his hand twitch and smiled knowingly. “Not now. Sparring you in the state you’re in, it won’t be worth it.” She pulled back her hand. “Rest, regain your strength, Vergil. After that, then we’ll begin.” There was a simmering fire in his blue eyes, as if she prodded something deep within him. Perhaps, as the older brother, being challenged like this was not something he took in stride, especially when he was told to wait beforehand.

Whatever he had to say died in his throat as Dante strode out of the shower. Cassandra was silently thankful he had enough sense to have pants on.

“Cass, you are a lifesaver.” He said cheerfully.

“Don’t thank me Dante. Thank Trish and Lady, provided they don’t skewer you for being gone for so long.” Cassandra pulled away from Vergil as he spoke, leaving him there. “You want pizza? I haven’t ordered pizza since you left. I’ll pay.”

“YES!” He did a fistbump. “I missed pizza so much.” Cassandra laughed at his enthusiasm for pizza. As he walked back down the stairs, getting into a conversation with Vergil to urge him to clean up, Cassandra relished the sense of familiarity that came with him. After she ordered the pizzas for Dante to chow down on, splurging just a little just for his return, she went to the jukebox to play one of Dante’s favorite songs.

And nothing sounded better than that song wafting through the warm air of Devil May Cry.

[buns-with-a-book]

The idea of a ‘spirit child’ around Cassandra was...confusing, to say the least. He knew of his human heart and demonic blood, both had once warred for control, now slumbering in contentment. But Cassandra was different, with no such division in her (as far as he knew).

“So got it, Verge?” Dante asked, leaning forward expectantly. Vergil glanced to his brother, his insufferable twin.

“I believe so. Cordelia, from what I understand, has lived dormant inside Cassandra until very recently. When Cassandra took my nightmares as her own-” He still hated that she did that. Not her for what she did, but rather that she took on his own trauma to strengthen herself. He never wanted to burden her with his dark thoughts, the days he prayed he could forget. “Cordelia made herself known with the golem Nightmare. Since then, Cordelia has made herself home here.” He looked up to Dante. “Am I missing anything?”

“Only that she’s scared of you.” A given, he understood perfectly why she feared him. What was still good about him, worth fighting for? It was something he still didn’t understand from his brother, much less the son he just found out existed.

I wasn’t intending on making something for Dadgil Week but here we are. Lots of Dadgil feels, albeit not just for Nero. 

Tags: @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs @harlot-of-oblivion @queenmuzz