#dmc & reader

The Devil May Cry was more lively than it had been for a time, the jukebox buzzed with life as Dante was in the kitchen, preparing a bowl of eggnog for the handful of people that would be dropping in for the holiday. He could always count on Morrison being here, his old drinking buddy when no one else was around and ‘work’ was slow, and he knew that Lady and Trish would be here as always, but this year would be different. This year, he’d get to spend Christmas with his brother and his old friend. After what felt like ages, they’d finally be out of hell, cleaning up the mess that Vergil had made trying to achieve true strength. Ha, because that had only gone so well the first time. 

Still, he was glad to have him back. Not as an enemy, or a fragment, but him as he wholly was. It felt so wrong to go so long without his twin, back when they were kids, he thought it’d always just be the two of them against the world… but that was so long ago. He’d grown and the hole left in his wake had already began to mend itself when he met the kid, and when he had Lady and Trish there at his side. He wasn’t ever truly alone, not like Vergil was, which makes him all too happy to be able to share the holiday with his twin and the only other person in his life. The little reader from the library by their old home. 

He could hear Vergil coming down the stairs as he stirred the bowl with the ladle, admiring his handy work as he added just one more shot of whisky to the mixture. With the building’s heater and AC, they’d have to keep warm somehow, right? It’s not like Patty was coming over anyway, so they didn’t have to worry much about that. Dante could feel his brother’s eyes on the back of his head as he turned to regard him, a lazy grin on his face as he saw him in a stuffy sweater that looked itchy as hell. The cable knit had a snowman on the front, with a carrot nose and a black tophat to boot. 

On the way back from the store, there was a hat, he would’ve liked to have nabbed for Mr. Grinch over here but Vergil shot him down before he could even suggest they get it. 

“Look who decided to leave his room. I’m finishing up on the drinks over here, but uh, why don’t you go and start decorating out in the front? It’d certainly be a lot of help, Lady and Trish just brought the tree in”, he points to the lobby with his eyes as he decides to pour himself a cup of eggnog. As a little reward for his ‘hard work’. 

“Hmph… very well”, he mused, “Do you know when our little reader will get here?”, he asked, folding his arms at his brother while he flicked his eyes over to the box set up near the door where the evergreen had been propped up with the stand. The tinsel and ornaments were sticking out of the box, and he didn’t doubt that it’d be a hard task for himself… if not tedious. 

“Yeah- they called not too long ago, they should be getting here now”, he hummed as he sipped the creamy concoction, savoring the slight burn from the alcohol as it slid down. 

As if right on cue, the door opens, and you make your grand entrance. You’ve met up with Vergil before this, by mere coincidence at that. He wasn’t looking for you, and you weren’t looking for him, so sure that it was the last you’d ever see of him again. But even so, that didn’t stop him from seeing the smallest hints and traces of you in everything. The way the sun set reminded him of you, of the time before he had taken the yamato and cleaved a path for himself. That you survived his armageddon brought him more peace than he could know, as he found you amongst the survivors trying to rebuild in Redgrave City. 

It felt like you hadn’t changed, like you had remained just as you were on the day that you said goodbye for what could’ve been the last time. You didn’t like it then, telling him that it was just a farewell, that you’d see him again. And you did, the both of you did. But unlike then, he was more mature now. Your nose was red from the cold, your cheeks and even your fingertips held a rosy hue as he appraised you. A part of him disliked how faulty the systems of the agency were, having figured that his businessman brother would have the sense to maintain it better. The cold didn’t bother him much, but he saw the way you pulled your own sweater closer to your form, trying to stay warm. 

Vergil laments that there isn’t more that he could do for you or to offer, and he isn’t sure if you’d like to drink Dante’s eggnog… 

“Hey! You made it in one piece, want some eggnog?”, he heard his brother pipe up as he moved to step into the lobby from the kitchen. 

“Oh- I’m alright, thanks. I think I’ll definitely have some later though”, you pipe up as you step closer to his twin. Vergil’s gaze still sits on you as you regard him with a similar look, your eyes drifting down to his chest, staring at the little snowman on his front before you bring your eyes back up. 

“You’re staring”, your voice is a quiet reminder as he chuckles softly. 

“I’m just… appreciating your outfit. I’m glad you decided to come, as ridiculous as this is…”, he admits, pinching the cheek of the snowman. It’s itchy, but he doesn’t mind it much. 

“Well, that’s sort of the point of an ugly sweater party, isn’t it?”, you ask, wearing that half smile he had missed so much since he had last seen you. It’s a comforting sight. 

You had worn a green sweater, with a fuzzy Rudolph pattern, with the red nose being made of sequins instead of being sewn on. You look off to the side to see the barren tree and its lack of any ornaments or other decorations on it. 

“You haven’t started on the tree yet?”, you ask with a quirk of your brows. 

“Ah… on that you’d have my brother to blame”, Vergil gestured to Dante who held his hands up with a shrug. It’s not that he had been putting it off(it was), but there were just other, more pressing matters to attend to. That’s all!

Of course, they were lucky to get a tree at all on the day of Christmas. If it weren’t for the girls, they’d be treeless(and homeless), just another debt he owed to his partners in crime. More so to Lady than Trish. You don’t linger for very long as you step over to the box and reach in to take something out, a silver ball and some other things. There were lights, and a star, but that was just about it. Nothing to put on the mantle, or even stockings for that matter. You had the feeling that Christmas wasn’t too celebrated within their family, which was fine of course, and made sense. 

Demons celebrating Christ? That had to be a sin. 

“Come on, let’s get started then”, you gave him a little nudge with your elbow, and so Vergil started to get a move on setting up the tree with you. 

At least he’d have some company while he did this. The two of you could even start to catch up some more. Your exchanges ever since he had resurfaced along with his brother from the pits of hell have been brief, given due to his search of work and your own obligations, but you still had trouble getting over the fact that your childhood friend was an aspiring tyrant not that long ago, for his own reasons. The apotheosis of his plans had very nearly cost the world… he wonders how you can bring yourself to consort with such a villain now. The part of himself he cast aside would have a better idea than he, for even now, he struggles. As he loses himself to his thoughts, something tugs at his fingertips. 

“Are you just going to stand there?”, you had asked him. 

“I was merely giving you a head start”, he tactfully replies. 

You seem to know what you’re doing, picking to space out the ornaments as he looks to the box to pick out his own handful of orbs to toss around on the tree. The last time he remembers doing this was when he was still a child. Dante would hurry along with the tinsel, running along the tree while their mother lifted him higher and higher. Then she’d lift him next to put the star on top. He expects to feel pain at the memories rising, a gentle sting, but he can only hear your voice. 

“When I was younger, this was my favorite part of the holiday, not the gifts but decorating the tree. Everyone pitches in, and when we finished we’d have a hot cocoa together”, you mused, warmth blooming in your face as you recalled the memory with fondness. 

You seemed so bright to him then, like you had when you two were leaving the library, and the sun hid just behind your taller frame. Standing next to you, he placed a hooked ball on a branch just above your own, your ornaments not without a pair as you hooked them up together. The silence filled in after your thought, a moment passing before it’s broken again, this time by him. 

“… that sounds… nice. Perhaps after this then, you and I could indulge in a nice drink”, he offered, not without some awkwardness. 

“I’d like that”, you nod, eyes carefully glancing up to his from where you stood. 

So much time had passed, but you still see him. You can still see that haughty little boy that had so stubbornly tried to remove you from his spot in the library all those years ago. The awkwardness in his voice, the way he shifts around, almost as if uncertain with what to do with himself… it’s all so cute. He can try to be stoic, to appear indifferent or detached, but he’s teeming with excitement even if he doesn’t allow himself to say so. You give him a half smile, and he returns it, a smirk stretching across his face as he turns to collect more ornaments from the box. 

“What are you thinking about?”, he asks, pulling the tinsel from the loose bunch it had been haphazardly thrown in. Without care, he could add as he started to untangle it from its fixed position in the worn cardboard. 

“… I don’t know about everything that’s happened in the time we’ve been a part, but I’m glad we got to meet again”, you tell him as you stare at his back. 

Most couldn’t say the same. 

“I was sure you’d have forgotten about me”, he admits, turning back to face you, his arms spread out to get ready to wrap the length of the decoration around the evergreen tree. 

“There isn’t a thing about you that’s forgettable. I don’t know anyone with hair so… silver, or with a face so…”, you take a moment to gesture, “You”, that is to say… “I promised that I wouldn’t forget you”

And you had the mind to call him little prince, just as you had always thought to when you were kids. Vergil laughs, but it’s a soft little ha, like you’d expect. You take one end of the tinsel from his hands as he starts to walk around the tree to dress it up. He could surmise the same thing about you. Every part of you was so memorable to him, carrying a little bit of you with him as he went about his life. Unknowingly dancing along to the same tune of that villain from the book you had been reading then. For all the blood shed and the violence wrought, the greatest gift he had received from it all was the chance to be here before everyone now. 

Most of all, you. 

You, who had only ever stared at him with those adoring eyes. 

He’s stealing glances at you again from beyond the tree, through the branches and the many glittering ornaments as the two of you circle each other from around the tree. He chases after you, picking up his pace by a step until the tree is well adorned. Stepping back, he looks back at it, as you come to join him. The holidays have lost their magic to him, for the greater part, but he cannot deny the thrumming in his chest as he stands with you. It’s missing something though, arguably the most important part of a Christmas tree. You turn to fetch it from the box, looking down and inside to see the dusty little star from within. 

Plucking it out, you give it a good blow, watching as the particles fly off with concealed disgust. Ah, well nothing a quick wipe wouldn’t mend. Vergil steps closer from behind you, his hands coming to appear over your own as he wipes it with his palm. Looking down at it from over your shoulder, something flickers within him. 

“Why don’t you go and put it up”, you muse. 

You don’t lean back into him, just as he goes to pull away, stealing the star from your hands to go and look at the top of the tree. His frame is tall, but it’s just barely out of reach. The little prince leans up on the tip of his toes as he reaches out to put the star on the point of the tree. Your hand slides over to the small of his back, steadying him should he start to teeter and fall. It’s not at all needed, but it shows that you care. He finds himself enjoying it greatly…

”Wow! Great work you two”, Dante pipes up after what feels like an eternity of silence. Vergil hadn’t forgotten he was there, but it startles you. The eldest twin turns to regard his younger brother with a look that the other shrugs off. 

“Yes, well… what have you been up to exactly?”, Vergil quipped. 

“Hey now, I’ve been setting up shop too, see?”, Dante pointed up at the ceiling above them, the both of your eyes trailing up to meet the little green herb that had been strung up. 

“Mistletoe…”, you had correctly guessed. Dante winked at you before he left to go get something else, likely the food for tonight’s party. 

He wasn’t saying it outright, but he was picking up on the tension filling his agency now, hoping this would expedite the journey. Vergil scoffed, then rolled his eyes, finding it stupid. Why did it matter if someone stood under it? He turned to you for a moment, about to comment on it when he held his tongue. The thought hadn’t struck him at all, earnestly. Then he looked away, going to go back to regard the tree. The two of you ended up doing a splendid job, just as Dante had apprised. 

“So about those drinks hm?”, you asked with a chuckle, “There’s a cafe that’s open near here, unless you want some eggnog?”

”I think I’ll pass, let’s go to the cafe”, he agreed, eager to get out of the shop. The ugly sweater he wore was just now starting to itch. Vergil tugged at his collar as you made your way to the door. 

You opened it for him as he walked out, passing Lady and Trish on the way. They had a few bags in their hands. Last minute Christmas shopping huh? At Dante’s expense, undoubtedly. Vergil glanced at them as you closed the door behind you. The snow began to fall in small flakes from the sky, slowly dotting your hair as you walked. He followed just a few steps behind, keeping his pace as you walked. His pale eyes glanced at your hand as you strode down the path towards the little coffee shop you spoke of. 

His hand reached for you before he could stop himself, holding onto your fingers as you walked. You didn’t stop to ask him why, or to think to question it. The cold touch upon your warm hand was a feeling you’d been missing since forever. He fit there, sliding into place like a jigsaw piece. Vergil’s thumb rubbed behind your palm as you curled around his thumb. It isn’t very far, and the golden glow of the cafe glows softly, the light pouring out from the glass windows. 

The inside is just as warm and cozy, with soft jazz playing overhead. The scents of the patrons and brewing coffee and cocoa alike would’ve bothered him normally, and he didn’t feel very comfortable meandering through public spaces like that, but he focused solely on you. 

“What would you like?”, you asked, turning to look over your shoulder, a wry smile on your lips. 

“What did you get when you were a kid?”

“Two hot cocoas then, with little marshmallows and whipped cream”, you tell the barista on hand. 

You watched them make your drinks with some small appreciation as he looked on with a bored expression. It was nothing special, but he would appreciate the end product. You’re still holding his hand even after you pay for the drinks and when the two of you stand off to the side to pick them up. The cardboard sleeve helps to not burn your hands, but it’s not like it’d matter for when you’d step back out to return to the office anyway. Vergil brings the drink up to his lips and goes to take the first sip. It’s still hot, but not so searing that it seriously hurts him, not that it would. 

“How can you drink it like that?”, you ask, waiting for it to cool down enough to not burn your tongue. 

“Like what? It’s perfectly fine for me”, he gives a small smile, almost smug. 

You shake your head, “Doesn’t that burn?”, you question him. 

He shakes his head as he goes back to it, smacking his lips lightly to pass his judgement. It’s a little too sweet for him, but it’s not terrible. Cocoa is a children’s drink after all, but this is what he asked for. He’d take what he was given, refraining from making any complaints. You blow on yours from the little hole in the lid, not wanting to risk it even if you felt compelled for a sip just now. You find it endearing at least, that he was eager to try it enough to not wait for it to get to a comfortable point to drink it from. 

What the two of you read weren’t too far apart from what he liked, and admittedly it felt good to find common ground with someone for once. There wasn’t ever a need to compete or to strive to prove himself or anything of that sort when it came to meeting you in the library. He could fall into a comfortable silence, reading Blake as he liked, but a part of him couldn’t help but to look for it. Vergil was anticipating for you to say something, be it an inquiry or something other, perhaps you recognized the title in his hands. What he couldn’t have anticipated is how he had become increasingly observant of you, stealing glances from the corners of his eyes to see you were ignoring him. 

Of course you were, you were reading, and he was reading too— but while watching you read from when he would finish his stanza, he noted just how peaceful you looked. Your lashes would curtain your eyes, and one hand would support the stray locks of hair that seemed to frame your face perfectly, like text wrapping around a space in a page. He liked the way your brows would furrow slightly in thought as you read, and you, so engrossed in what you were reading and wouldn’t notice until you finally stopped to check the time. Mother was preparing supper and you didn’t want to be late for it, lest you get another earful from your father. When your gaze flicked up from the worn pages, Vergil would still, but he wasn’t afraid that he was caught. 

His sky blue eyes would remain affixed to your own, not wanting to look away. It was you who were perplexed, figuring that there must be something on your face or maybe he just wanted your attention, but far be it beyond a stupid little boy to tell you what it was. 

“… I have to go”, you’d tell him, and like a cat he’d just keep his stare. It’s unnerving, but, something you’ve steadily accepted as your norm now that you’ve made this place a home away from home. The both of you did, drawn to the high shelves in search of sanctuary. 

But you’d be leaving… not just for the day, but taken elsewhere. You had to move to a coastal city far beyond Redgrave, and you still hadn’t told him yet. You’ve been meaning to, but every time you do it makes you wistful. As silly as it was, to care so much about a boy you had only but recently met. And still, he had become someone you’d start to look forward to seeing on your daily departures to this dusty place. Vergil would lie if he said he wouldn’t miss you, or if he cared, he didn’t know that he could with such emphasis. 

“Will you be back tomorrow?”, he’d ask, finally glancing down at his own pages, glowering almost as if he too had missed something sitting on the tip of his tongue. There was something he wanted to tell you, to ask, but he wasn’t sure if he should. Or if you’d agree to what he had in mind. 

“Maybe”, you always teased. You’d always say that, and then you’d always return. It was one of the few constants he could rely upon, that you’d be there to greet him with that half smile of yours that made him churn. For all that he read, he was sure he would’ve identified it by now with his extensive reading. Whenever father returned from his trip, he would be sure to ask him. He always seemed to know just what to do.

Before he knew it though, you were rising, beginning to walk away. Just as you always did when you told him you had to go, stealing away to your home. Vergil rose just as quickly, if not faster, meeting your side instead of stealing your spot to absorb the warmth of your seat. You gave him a look as he closed his book, holding it just under his arm. What was he expecting from you now, as he bore into you with those pretty eyes. Was he going to—

“I want to walk with you. Let me come with”, he had spoken bluntly. 

Simple, and spoken without any princely prose as you’d hope to have heard fall from his lips. You were expecting something more… akin to your stories, something rightfully him even if plucked from your fantasies of grandeur with knights and villains alike. Fantasies remain in the imaginations of those that don’t wake from their dreams, and here you’ve been given the breath of reality. Another step taken, another pace earned. You manage to pinch your lips shut for just a moment, biting back the smile that wishes to stretch in earnest across your face. In spite of your best efforts it wins. 

You cannot bother to school your expression, because it makes you happiest to spend time with him. You’ve begun to understand this after getting over the little scuffle that brought you two together, as much as you tried to deny this too. 

“I suppose I could let you… don’t fall behind then”, and as you try to say it with some form of indifference, you’re unable to tear your eyes away from the way he seems to brighten at your acceptance. 

As if fearing rejection. 

You bid your farewells to the old librarian, trying to ignore the way he chuckles softly as the two of you stroll out the large double doors. The sun has begun to set, and the sky is a warm golden hue. The light is crepuscular as it shines through the clouds, passing through their opaque forms with the likeness of an oil painting. A gust of wind blows through your hair as you brave the road ahead, with little prince Vergil behind you. You turn around to see him just staring again, and he too is in agreement that the sight before him is beautiful too. 

“This way”, you gesture, and the two of you walk down the cobbled path. You can hear him jog after you, never lingering as the two of you cross through an alleyway. You’re a little taller than he is, your legs making longer strides as he increases his pace just to catch up. Looking over your shoulder, you can see him struggling some… and you can’t help but to pause. It’d be a pain if he were to get lost or unable to keep up, and you’d feel bad if he were caught out here by himself. 

“What..?”, he says as you regard him. Vergil tries to stand up taller, tilting his head up to look at you. It crosses his mind that he might be slowing you down, but he doesn’t mean to, he doesn't want to be. Your hand reaches out for his, and he lets you take it, holding onto this little piece of him as you resume your walk. 

“I forget how short you actually are”, you reply nonchalantly, still holding onto that smile from before, “So I’ll hold your hand… Just so you don’t get lost or anything, okay?”

”You don’t need to do that, I wouldn’t get lost”, he huffs, but he isn’t pulling away from you. 

Your hand is soft, not marred by callouses like his are from sword fighting with his brother, Dante. His thumb brushes over yours as he feels the back of your hand with the pad of his finger. And there it goes again, that weird feeling in his gut, something that begets happiness. The two of you continue your stroll back to your home, just a ways away on the opposite side of town. It was on the opposite side of his own home, he noted, but you two lived a ways away from everyone else it’d seem. 

Vergil’s hand is cold in yours as you lead him, carefully taking the streets and roads that are the least busy. Even outside of the library, he noted how careful you were, hiding even when you didn’t need to be. Your meekness was something he could not yet understand. With the other people passing along, you made sure to keep out of their way if there were any there. When there would be people that dared to walk too close to the two of you, Vergil would issue them a very sharp glare, threatening to growl as they steered themselves clear. Though as small as he was, he had no trouble playing the role of guard dog for you. 

If only ever for you. He didn’t need to defend other people as often as he felt the need to defend himself, and even then… 

“Sorry that I took you so far, you probably don’t even live anywhere near here, huh?”, you’d asked, “It’s getting dark and I don’t want you to go back out there alone”

Vergil, who had not even been paying attention to the approaching destination, had only blinked at you then. It has? But the sky was golden, there was still so much time, so he had thought. He didn’t want to have to go just yet. That much was apparent by the way his brow furrowed and his lips curled into a tiny frown. You’d regard him again, not wanting him to go back home either, what if something happened to him? Your heart ached at the thought alone, and you were about to tell him to wait a moment before you saw someone else draw near. 

“Vergil! There you are! What the heck are you doing all the way out here..? Who’s that?”, spoke the little boy, who could’ve been his clone truly.

He had the same silver hair, sitting on a mop on his head instead of being slicked back. For a first time, you’d see your library partner startle, eyes widening as he whipped around with a scowl already adorning his face. It didn’t take very long for you to register this kid as his twin, but Vergil made no mention of him to you. 

“Dante! What are you doing here?! Did you follow me?”, he hissed.

”Mom told me to go get you for dinner, but instead of going back you went away from the library! You’re gonna be in so much trouble~”, he teased his brother. 

“Um…”, you stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say or what to do. You had to go in, but at least there was someone here to walk Vergil home. That way he’d be safe, knowing his brother was looking out for him too. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow..!”, he called over his shoulder as his brother began to drag him away. You watched, holding your hands together as you watched him get smaller and smaller on the horizon. You’d definitely poke at him about that tomorrow when you’d see him. 

. . . . . ╰──╮

He couldn’t help but to give his brother a good shove when he was a way’s away from your home, and he would’ve been in slightly better spirits if his brother hadn’t been there to ruin the discovery as he tended to ruin many things for him. It’s so hard to believe that this is his brother, his twin brother, the ‘other half of his soul’ or something like that. Father put it that way, and so he had come to accept it as truth, but this was truly galling. Dante wouldn’t stop with his teasing and his poking and prodding and it drove him up the wall. His favorite secret had been revealed, and just as when he had anything bestowed upon him, his brother would have to come and have his share of it too. 

Sharing was caring, so he’d been told, but can’t he have something to himself? Something that wouldn’t be taken away just because Dante had wanted it too? He felt his hackles rise as his brother shoved him back, undeterred as he always was. 

“What do you two even do at the library anyway? Seems too dark and dreary to have any real fun, like when we sword fight!”, he piped up, moving back to his side. 

“Well you wouldn’t get it anyway”, he huffed, folding his arms, “just leave it be, okay?”, he groaned as he rolled his eyes at his doddering brother. So annoying. 

But for all his jesting and jokes, Dante could see that Vergil was happy, and if his brother was happy then so would he be. He was only saddened of course, by the fact that he wouldn’t be able to play with him as much as he used to now that he would always be at the library. He’d just have to go there too then, to catch the two of them there together so that they could all hangout. That way, he wouldn’t be alone at the manor by his lonesome. Dante jogged up to meet his brother as he had taken to walking ahead again, following the path you had shown him, his hand still warmed from where you had been holding it. 

Eventually when they did return, Dante was right when their mother had begun telling him off for being so late to come home, worried that something had happened to him. As if there would be anything that could harm a son of Sparda, it’s not like he was some helpless little kid. He was the heir to the legendary dark knight, and one day he’d hope to don the shining armor that he’d seen his father wear. Perhaps he’d start training right after dinner though, he couldn’t help but to wince at his mother’s shrill voice as she lectured him about being safe and cautious. Just as any mother would be for her child. It’s not like Vergil could know, of the enemies his father has made or of the lengths they’d be willing to go through in order to hurt him. 

The three of them sat altogether, eating the stew that their mom had made, Dante scarfing his food down as per usual while Vergil took his time. He looked off to the side, to the courtyard through the kitchen window where he could see their training dummies in the dark. As his belly grew full with supper, thoughts of swordplay dwindled as he pictured tomorrow and how he’d get to spend it with his friend in the quiet part of the library. He’d see you, and he’d get to spend his days reading, hoping that his brother wouldn’t follow him and ruin it for him. He’d show you just how fun he could be, more so than his brother– but why did that even matter to him now? He couldn’t bare the thought of you finding him more fun than he was. 

In his bed, he turned on his side, staring at the ceiling as Dante laid in the bed opposite to him. His brother hadn’t fallen asleep just yet either, even when he was the first to fall after dinner. Vergil furrowed his brow as he glanced over to him on the bed, sensing his stare through the dark, his in-twin-tion having gone off. 

“What is it, Dante?”, he asked, none too pleased to be stared at without a word. Funny how that is. 

“Tomorrow, can I come with you to the library too?”, he asked. 

“Absolutely not”, Vergil shot back, “That’s my special place, and I won’t have you there to make a mess of things”

“I won’t make a mess..!”, he whined. 

“You will” “I won’t!” “You will”

“But I wanna hangout with you too, and your friend..! We never hangout anymore! It’s like you like hanging out over there more than you like hanging out with me…”, and… he would’ve argued back that he was being a pain, but hearing the hurt in his voice gave him pause. 

“... that’s not… true. I like hanging out with you too”, as much as he would voice his protests, he couldn’t deny the excitement of being so thoroughly tried by his brother. But, he could always play with him, he could do that whenever he wanted. But he didn’t know that you were running out of time. 

Vergil

There was no other woman that he 'coupled' with. The lady in red, back in Fortuna was the only lover he had ever taken on, and to his knowledge Nero was his only child having been born from that love. To see you standing before him now... you, who looks so much like how he did way back then... it unnerves him. It's the first instance where he's ever been so deeply unnerved in a long while. A clone, you had to be a clone. It wouldn't be the first time that Mundus has done something like this. The next time he goes to hell, he'd be sure to kill him once and for all. He wasn't ever content on letting the Prince of Darkness continue living after all that he has put him and his family through.

He thinks you're a spy, that your purpose here is malicious. But how can that be when you look so captivated by him? As if glimpsing into a mirror and seeing an aged reflection. This all must be so strange to you too, when nothing is so certain in your life. Fine. He can accept this. He can will himself too, because now he has a chance to correct your path before you're made to walk his again. He wouldn't want that for you, especially when he can be present for you where he failed to be present for Nero.

This too, pains him, and he knows that it will be awkward for all of you. Regardless, he has to face it, even if he doesn't know how. Seeing him instills a great dread within you; the power, the expectations, all of it feels overwhelming. How are you going to live up to that? Whenever you stand in his presence, you try to make yourself appear larger, more mature than your years let on. Your demonic nature imposes this upon you, much to his chagrin. It gnaws upon him, because, he was like this too.

He wanted to prove himself to his mother that he could be strong, that he could be mature. When he looks at you, he often finds himself ruminating about those times. You can feel it, and the sadness worries you. Why does he look at you like that? It almost feels like he doesn't accept you. You don't want that, so you try your hardest to be the epitome of what your creator spoke of him. That image has long been burned into your mind since then, and now it is all you strive for.

When you raise your training sword to him, he comes. When you trade blows, he is there, and when he feels your might against his... finally does he allow himself to smile. You're so much like him. Like the child that was lost on that very day. It's without a doubt now, cemented into his soul, regardless of what or who you are... you're his child. If anything tried to take you away from him, he would kill them.

V

He's seen you before, only, you weren't you then. After mingling his vines with Urizen, he had glimpsed the other you then. Or rather, Vergil. When he was blemished by tragedy, renewed by rejoining with the better half of himself-- that was the last he saw of... you. But now, he was back, and here he was... eye to eye with the child of that demon again. You're just as you were when he had first glimpsed that memory, still small with wide eyes boring into his own. You didn't get on too well with any of the others aside from Trish, and similarly he had expected to be met with some resistance from you too. But that never came.

Instead, you shuffled forward, with your arms outstretched to find purchase on one of his legs. A hug. You were hugging him... were Griffon to see it, he'd be laughing. He missed them, strangely, even if they were only ever nightmares. Here, he had a waking dream. His last encounter with a child hadn't gone too well, funny enough. From what he could recall, he'd berated the poor thing, for crying out as he did. As if he hadn't done the same thing when it had been him there, outside of the house as it all burned down. He rests a thin hand on your head as you hug him.

He doesn't know how to be comforting, only how to seek it out in others. But you make him want to change, to be different. Eventually he kneels to be at your level, hugging you properly as your arms snare around his shoulders. You were fond of Trish for obvious reasons, but V had a certain softness about him to you. Almost as if he was your mom, your real mom. Of course, you didn't have one, and it didn't matter to you at the time... but the thought of leaving his side hurts. If you're to go anywhere, you wanted him to follow.

You would drag him by the hand if you had to, and V was like to let the current take him. A part of him found it entertaining, and that maybe that was all you were to him. He would entertain you until you weren't amusing anymore. That's what he planned on doing, but watching you get sad at his silhouette burned him. It was such an unfamiliar thing that he paused to look back. Why did you look so sad? He was only temporary, fated to leave this world again whenever time had deemed it necessary.

You were infinitely stronger than he was, and you had everyone else too to guard and guide you. What made him so special? What made him so unique aside from his weakness? So determined to figure it out, he had remained, seated as you climbed into his lap and pulled at the rings and jewelry on his fingers. Simple. You thought of him as parent, as a guardian already. Even with all your strength and might yet to be had, you wouldn't ever stop needing that. You wouldn't ever stop needing him now that you had him in your life.

"I'll protect you too", you had told him. "You'll be safe with me", such a little voice sounding so sure... for the first time, would he mourn himself when he'd be lost. He wondered how long it would take for you to figure that out.

Nero

How the hell is he supposed to feel about you? You were a tiny version of the father he just found out he had. "Why wasn't I, or my mother enough...", he starts to think to himself, but those thoughts are squashed when he's informed that you weren't born from another affair or something like that.

Upon approaching you for the first time, he was hesitant, but he was your brother, as Kyrie had insisted that he at least give you a chance. The devil in you thought of him as a lesser because of how little his blood resembled yours or even your father's. On all accounts, you were going to brush him off, to ignore him if it weren't the sliver of Sparda coursing through his veins. If it weren't for that you wouldn't even consider him a worthy rival, but even with just a quarter of his power, he was remarkably strong.

Your uncle had told you that much, recounting their fight. Naturally, you had to test yourself against him, as much as Nero found it irksome. He'd be working on Red Queen, running maintenance on his sword when he'd feel a sharp strike to the back of one of his knees. It was a struggle trying to look after the three orphans with Kyrie already, but now he had to deal with you and your demonic antics. Great. If it's a fight you wanted, it would be a fight you'd get. But even as prideful as you were, you were a kid-- his little sibling. Despite himself, he held back, knowing that if he really went all out you'd get seriously hurt.

Yet, in not going all out, he made you cry regardless: all because he wasn't taking you seriously. You didn't need to be pitied, especially if you wanted to grow as a devil and get stronger for your family's sake. If you couldn't beat Nero, then what hopes did you have in defeating a threat that could wipe out your family? He could relate, having the same thoughts when his dad ripped his arm off, worried for Kyrie's sake and the kids. Through your little tantrums, he'd kneel to be at your eye level before patting you on the head.

"You put up a good effort at least, that's somethin' to be proud of", he'd say, which wasn't entirely false.

Still, even after you calmed down some, you wouldn't easily forgive his slights. Luckily, Kyrie could with her cooking. Nero couldn't help but feel a little envious of his girlfriend for being able to pacify you where he couldn't. Even when you seemed to dislike humans, as you've made it abundantly clear to him with each bout(much to Lady's disdain.) But as time goes on, he's slowly beginning to accept you as family. Sure, you're still irritating to him at times, but it's nothing a little bit of air jail can't fix, a trick he learned with Julio when he'd have his fits here and there.

As humiliating as it is, it does work. Instead of being treated as a demon spawn, him and his partner treat you as if you're one of their human children. The lack of violence and discipline worries you on account of not wanting to go soft while you're in the human world. On the other hand, it is comforting. To know that you are loved and safe with them puts a weird weight on your chest, and at times you look back on how you treated Nero in the past. When you try to do something nice for him, you go to Kyrie for help, since you're sure that he'd freak out if you brought him a dead demon or some other game(unlike Nico.) When he notices, you have to withhold from delivering a punch to his gut when he starts to dote on you.

Dante

Trish had found you, thinking it would be best if he would be the one to deal with you. At least while Vergil and Nero were both busy, and when she needed a break after he had declined doing so the first time around. It was harrowing to say the least, when you had appeared in his office, looking like the spitting image of the brother he had lost all those years ago. How did he do it this time? He had thought glumly, as he tried to swallow down the bile rising in his throat. Down to the last detail, it was like Vergil had been ripped straight out of his memories. That sick bastard Mundus, why couldn't he go bother another family? Quite frankly, he was tired of having to deal with that guy and his shenanigans. Maybe the ass beating on Mallet Island wasn't enough...

You could not help but to look up at him with due apprehension. This was Dante after all, successor to Sparda, and the one you were supposed to be keeping tabs on as per your orders. One part of you doesn't want anything to do with him, and another doesn't want to be too far away from him either. Even with the possibility that you could be a threat, Dante knows that he can't bring himself to strike you down. It's low brow, and it pisses him off even more that Mundus would think to do something like this. Gilver was enough of a scare, but here you are. He wishes you'd go away, he doesn't have to say it out loud for you to get the idea.

"You aren't going to fight me?", you had asked innocently, holding a little sword at your side. Oh... how it made his stomach churn. It's a feeling he's not acquainted to. Was it guilt? Grief? It was definitely agonizing...

"No, kid. I'm not gonna fight ya", he answered with a grin as he laid his heavy hand on your head. He ruffles your hair, pushing through the nausea as he chuckles dryly. Who could blame him? Another copy of his brother sent to mess with him after all this time, without knowing what you're here for or what you're capable of he can't help but to stay on edge.

That's why he has Trish take care of you, because you seem to like her as much as Vergil did back then. You aren't acting like a little terror, not that you'd dare to, so what? What's going to happen next, what comes next? When your purpose rears its ugly head, he knows it's going to have to be him to put a stop to you. Whether he likes it or not, whether he wants to or not. Lady can tell that it eats at him the more you try to get closer to him. You follow him around sometimes, wanting to spar or to play. It's what he would've wanted Vergil to ask him to do as kids, he should be happy that he gets to finally play with him now but you're not him.

He snaps one evening, telling you to go, to leave him alone before things get ugly. Lady interjects, that he was out of line, and Trish is there to hold you when you finally stop chasing after him. When the tears fall and you turn to her, he realizes that he shouldn't have done that. He didn't mean to, but if he isn't ready to go to you to comfort you right now. He'll make it up to you, but for the time being, it's best if you just stay with the girls.

BONUS

Sparda

How dare he, to create a crude re-imagining of his beloved child that he had then tortured for YEARS. Why, if he had the power to fly back down and to wring his neck himself... but alas, that wasn't possible anymore. It was oddly paralyzing having to look up at your creator's arch nemesis. His warden, essentially. You expected to be met with the end of his blade, to be demolished and scattered on the wind, but instead he crouched down to your level and searched your eyes. You were a devil, but even if you were possessed with the intent of causing harm upon him or anyone here, you would not be strong enough to do it. The legendary dark knight of eld chuckled softly before he reached up to pat your head and declare to the others that there was no need for concern. You, ever the devil, tried to correct his folly.

Not wanting to be undermined, you went to strike Sparda, he commended you on your audacious spirit(as misguided as it was.) The old man evaded your attack, and then evaded your follow up, only to adjust your arm. Your form was lacking, and it was simply adorable watching the way you seemed to get even more cross with him when you realized he didn't even see you as a threat. It was just as it was when you were in Hell. Mundus' remaining forces saw you as little more than disposable fodder, that you resembled Sparda's kin put you at a disadvantage already. Eventually you gave up trying to fight him directly, opting to catch him off guard in some other way.

The traps you set up kept him on his toes, and he feigned to get trapped in one just once to humor you. When he fell to the floor, playing dead, you ran over with the cutest smile on your face. Absolutely beaming before he caught you in a hug, laughing as he began to tickle your sides. Never having been tickled before, you assumed you were being subjected to a human torture method, and began screaming hysterically. After the first few screams left your lips, and attracted the attention of both Vergil and Dante running to the scene of the crime, they couldn't help but to sigh with relief when they saw it was just their dad and you goofing around.

"I thought you were being attacked for a moment... what is the meaning of this?", Vergil demanded.

"Good grief pops... had us going there for a second", Dante sighed as he watched Sparda lifting you into the air.

"Ohh I couldn't help it, I didn't mean to worry you boys!", he replied gleefully as he spun you around before settling you back on your feet.

You could not look anymore pissed off. The sight of your pout made Dante laugh before you went to go hide behind his brother's coat. If mom were here, no doubt you'd be telling on him to her. After a moment, Sparda's bending down to try and talk to you behind Vergil's back.

"I apologize, my dear... I didn't mean to upset you! But did you really think that that would do me in?", he can't help but to tease you.

"You'll rue this day, Sparda. I swear it!", you glowered as you turned your head away from him. It pulls a guffaw from him before he rises.

"Aww, don't be that way! What if I got you some ice cream? Have you had ice cream before?"

"If you're treating the kid, I want a strawberry sundae", Dante chimed in.

Dante

He's fallen off of cliffs and such before, whether it was due to a missed jump or simply because he's gotten knocked out of the air. Dante tries to not make a habit out of it, but it's not like he's doing it intentionally. The legendary devil hunter just happens to be a bit less patient than his brother, even after all these years. There's just some things that don't change, like his eagerness to fight demons, even if it scares him. He isn't mortal, he won't die if he's shot or stabbed, there isn't much that could kill him-- like falling and hitting his head. It'd just hurt if anything, but maybe that's something that you didn't know.

Or at least cared for.

A hit from the devil he was fighting has him thrown back with a grunt, the sound is distinct on your ears as you whip around to see his crimson jacket flail in the wind along with him in it. You make another slash at the devils coming after you to go and chase his flying figure. Dante doesn't see you, as he looks up to the sky, thinking about how he's gonna nail the demon good for that one. As he's cast over the edge, you slide on over, an arm extended and catching his ankle as he descends. The sudden grab has him out of his daydream and curling up to look at... you!

You were a couple of yards away, how did you get here so fast? He could only watch as you used your other hand to start pulling him up by the leg as you swung him up back to the edge where you were. You almost fell in your self as you groan.

"Next time you take a swan dive, do it at the pool, yeah?", you huff, patting his leg as he got to his feet.

"Only if you're watchin' me, babe", he winked as he reached for Ebony & Ivory.

You could've slapped him, you really could've. Dante only chuckles at the way you frown for a moment before you go back to fighting, rolling your shoulders as you go. It's pretty hot, he thinks. The half-demon's glad he's got someone as strong as you are on his side, something that comforts him really, knowing that you've got his back.

Vergil

Falling doesn't scare him, he's done it before, but it's where he'll end up that tends to make him feel something other than adrenaline when facing his enemies. The first time he descended, it cost him his freedom, the last time he went to hell with his brother. Now it felt like a slight, a mistake made and he doesn't quite like those. The devils he was fighting now on behalf of joining Dante's little business were putting on a fight for once, with one of them even managing to knock him back a good distance. He had misjudged that and felt himself lose his footing on solid ground.

You'd seen him tip over the edge and in an instant you were rushing to his side, not that you were too far. With your devil arm, you dug into the side of the ledge and anchored yourself as you grabbed his arm. He had only stared in awe, shock that quickly subsided as he glowered. He was not one who needed saving, quite the opposite, even as you threw him over the edge to resume the fight.

Such raw strength... in a mortal, none the less. It was... curious. Where did such power come from, he had to wonder after he had dealt with your foes with a few judgement cuts. You managed to pull yourself up, rolling over onto your back with a long sigh.

"Thank you for that, though it was unnecessary", he had commented, looking at your prone state.

"You're welcome, you oughta watch your step next time", you joke as he offers a hand to help you to your feet this time.

"It will not happen again, I assure you", he says it with such a straight face, but you can tell that he's the slightest bit embarrassed.

Nero

You had just finished combing through your share of enemies, flicking your weapon to the side to clear it of blood as you look off into the distance. Nero was holding up well with Red Queen, revving her engine and ripping and tearing into the devils seamlessly. You could often admire how fluid he could be, like a duck bobbing and weaving through water. He looked like he didn't need your help, so you'd sit back and watch. Through the demons that surrounded him, he could feel your eyes on his back.

Nero would be lying if he didn't enjoy it when you were watching him, because in truth he had admired you too. Your skills and finesse were so badass and he hoped that maybe you thought of him like that too instead of how his uncle and father had seen him. Sure it wasn't too serious when he'd been called 'dead weight' but... it stuck with him. He wanted to prove that he could stand on his own two feet without needing their help, or yours for that matter. Ironic given his current circumstance. Nero had taken his eyes off of his opponent at hand to spare you a glance, spotting the fondness in your eyes and feeling a bit of color come to his face.

"Woah!", he'd been shoved, having nearly dropped his sword to steady himself, reaching a hand behind him to push himself back off the ground. Only to find that there was none supporting him.

You jumped in just as quickly as he was about to fall, appearing in front of him and grabbing the front of his shirt just as he was about to fly. You bring him in and step back, as he just looks at you for a second.

"... You do know that I would've been fine right?", he asks instead of saying thanks, a small smirk playing on his face as you stare at him for a second. Air hike... right.

"Would you rather I let you fall?", you're quick to respond as he just scoffs, shaking his head as he resumed where he left off with the devil.

He usually came by himself to the library, when he wanted to escape his younger brother and find himself alone. The library was peaceful, quiet. The librarian was kind to him, and no one bothered him when he wanted to be left to the words scribed in the texts he’d pick up into his small hands. Opening the old hard covers to press his thumb along the pages, Vergil found comfort in reading the stanzas of the poems he indulged in, a part of him hearing his father’s voice in the back of his mind as he went about it. He was hoping to hear him again while Sparda remained absent from his and his brother’s life. The elder twin just didn’t anticipate seeing someone there in his usual spot. 

And that wouldn’t stand. 

Already he had to fight with his brother over his things since he just loved to steal and take what was his, but now his most cherished space? He wouldn’t be backing down, in fact, he’d make this person leave. This was his, and rightfully he would be fighting for it. You had a book of your own in your lap, held delicately and with care when you heard a whiny voice screech at you from above. A quick glance upwards showed you the source, a boy with silver hair and stark blue eyes. As blue as the sky. 

“Could you leave? This is my spot”, he had proclaimed to you, puffing his little chest out as he looked down at you. He had a sort of princely air to him, arrogant and demanding. So snooty. Who was he, and what right did he have to claim this area as his own? You furrowed your brow before closing your book, already marking where you had last left off. You were here first, and it’s always been first come, first serve. 

“No, I got here before you. You should just find some other place to read”, you replied before lifting your hand to shoo him away, like some kind of stray. 

Vergil couldn’t have been more offended by the gesture. If it were Dante, he could easily throw a punch or start fighting right here and right now, but he respected the library and what this place had become for him. He wouldn’t defile it over some petty little fight… and yet, he didn’t like that he was to be made to let some stranger sit where he liked to sit. One could suppose that it was the little devil in him wanting to protect his territory, or perhaps it’s the stubbornness a child has when they want something they can’t have. Either way, he refuses to budge, shaking his head to further express his point. 

“I’ve been here plenty of times before, and not once have I ever seen you. Leave now or else I’ll make you”, spoke the little prince. You could hardly believe it. You were three years his senior, but he was already pulling rank on you, what if he got the librarian involved? You didn’t want any trouble, especially one that could get you booted out of here, but you also didn’t like the way that he was talking to you. Especially when it felt like he was looking down on you, even when he was standing and you were sitting down. 

“So? I’ve been here plenty of times before too, why do I have to leave just because it’s your spot?”, you argued. Vergil frowned when you weren’t getting up to leave like he had asked you, his frustration visible as he took a step closer to you, threatening to take action directly. If he had to push you out, then he would. He didn’t want to share, but he hadn’t actually wanted to get physical. You could tell the librarian and then he’d get in trouble, and the thought of the librarian getting mad with him put a weight on his shoulders that he didn’t want to experience in full. 

The step that he took makes you tense up a little, pulling your knees into your chest as you glare up at him with all the indignance you could muster. You wanted this little boy to go away, to leave already. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Why did he have to be so difficult? 

“...”, noticing the change in your body language, Vergil takes another step, smirking as he goes. 

Boys could be really mean, you knew this, but was he actually going to hurt you? Over staying in his spot? Jerk. Pursing your lips together, your own frustration leads you to standing up finally to leave. Fine, if he wanted this so badly, you’d just go somewhere else. You could always return whenever he’d leave. Vergil looks up at you as he sees just how much taller you are than him, and yet you didn’t think to use your height against him? Seeing you now, the smirk falls from his face as he watches you grit your jaw. 

“Fine, if you want it so bad then you can have it!”, you shove past him, since he was in your way. Walking hurriedly through the shelves, your fleeting form passes him by as he remains where he was, watching you go before huffing. About time… and as he walks over to sit where you once were, the victory doesn’t feel as good as he thought it would. It was warm where you were, not cold like it would’ve been had he arrived first. He had seen the wetness in your eyes just as you left. 

Dante didn’t cry when he would have his bouts with his brother, were you so weak that you couldn’t fight back? Clearly you were larger, and probably stronger too, so why didn’t you? As he looked down at his own book, the thought wouldn’t leave his mind. Why did he care? You were an obstacle in his path, and he simply had to move you to the side so that he could get what he wanted. A frown had formed on his face where a smile should’ve been now that he could finally begin to read. Instead of his father’s voice, he heard his mother’s, chastising him for not playing nice. 

If she had seen the scene unfold, she would’ve made him apologize or something of that sort. She was always telling him how he had to learn to play nice with others, that it would be important for him. Vergil sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose before allowing the hand to run up to push back his silvery locks. He couldn’t read when this was sitting on his consciousness, it would bug him, and then his brother would poke at him about it which would lead to him confessing this to his mother at one point or another. How troublesome… what would father do? 

The right thing. 

And that… would be to apologize… but he didn’t do anything wrong! You were some stranger, a no body! What were the chances that he’d even see you again? He came here to read, not to socialize,he got enough of that done with his brother. He was rather tired of having to deal with Dante constantly, especially when his younger brother made it his mission to pester him daily. You weren’t as terrible as Dante, he supposed, you actually left and obeyed him after a bit of pushing. There comes that nagging feeling again as he reflects on it a little more. 

He couldn’t focus anymore, his concentration led astray as he glanced up ahead, annoyed with this predicament he had created for himself. Vergil could scarcely recall what he had read anyway. He’ll come to see you tomorrow, when he can muster up the words to say. As he got up to leave, he remembered your face again, the expression you made when he had successfully managed to chase you out. You were on the verge of tears, he hadn’t ever seen anyone look so upset before in his life, not even in drawings or in paintings around the manor. It only twisted at him some more. 

Where were you right now? Not crying, he’d hoped. That would be pathetic, and he’d rather not see you again while you were doing that. 

But you’d gone home by the time he had left, carrying your book with you and thinking about how much that instance irritated you. Your cheeks bloomed with color, flushed as you fumed about that stupid prince of a boy. Why didn’t you put up more of a fight? Why didn’t you do something? The questions come as you find yourself back home, to be answered when you were likely to see him again back in that place. No matter, you’d come earlier next time, so that he wouldn’t be there to usher you out. Next time, you’d be better prepared. 

And so the next time came for when you arrived back at that library, seated back in that very same spot. 

Another book was picked out, and your knees were pulled into your chest again as you poured over it within your lap, propped up and open by your hands. You enjoyed works of fiction, of derring-do tales with heroes and heroines, monsters slain by a hero with a sword. Currently, you were sitting on the part where the hero meets with the antagonist for the first time, their meeting having been alluded to in the first chapter. Your eyes were blown wide in anticipation, holding onto every word as they began to fight, brushing their swords together… when a shadow draped itself over you again. You hadn’t noticed it– him–, until he had cleared his throat to get your attention. 

How long has it been? You had lost track of time while drifting amongst the pages…

“You again…”, you glanced up as he spoke, letting your eyes sit on him for a moment. 

He seemed lost, unsure of what to say until you relinquished your hold to return back to your book. Were the two of you within the scene right now, you’re sure that the characters of this story would’ve much disliked this interruption as well. Things were just getting good too! The boy gathers himself again before he resumes his train of thought. 

“What are you doing here?”, he asks. In my spot. 

Who ever decided that it was his spot? Did the librarian permit this? 

You ignore him, picking up on the sentence you had last read. Hopefully, he’ll get the hint this time and leave you be. If you could ignore him for long enough, then maybe he’d go away on his own. That’s what you had hoped would happen. The little prince glared as you pointedly ignored him. He didn’t want to say that, he didn’t mean to have asked you that as it was blatantly obvious, but the words had tumbled out before he knew what he was saying. Why had you returned here, knowing that this area belonged to him? 

“I know you heard me”, he says, his brow furrowing as you go on about your story. 

Right now, the hero and the villain were having an intense moment, a speech about ideals being traded amongst the other. The hero was in the right, they always were, but the villain was telling him about how he needed to get stronger. That he could not ever hope to defeat him if he didn’t seek to do the same; that he would never be bested if he didn’t have the strength to do so. The hero had lost in the end, but his fight was far from over. Your gaze softens, the story would be over too soon if the hero had won, but you were looking forward to the antagonist losing the battle. You turn the page to see what happens next, but you don’t get that chance as the book is torn from your hands. 

“Hey!”, you look up to him finally. 

He looks just as smug as he had on that day, where the two of you met. He held it back and away from you, smirking as he went. This was something that he was so used to having happened to him, the feeling of doing it to another was inexplicably rewarding. Holding this over you gave him a sense of power, and as you sit there powerless, he takes a moment to glance at the cover. It’s different from what he would typically read, not that it was any less interesting. 

“Give that back!”, you got up again to reach for it, only for him to take a step back with it still in his reach. Your movements are sluggish, hesitant. Could it be this is your first time ever having to fight for anything? Vergil scoffs. 

“If you want it… then you’ll have to take it”, but you already knew that. 

You make a face, and he expects you to play into his game. 

You just wanted to read in peace, just as he did, but now things have ended up like this. Your height isn’t so daunting as the motivated look behind your eyes. You meet him finally, hands balled up at either side, before you swiftly lift your leg. You didn’t want to have to resort to violence, but it was clear to you that he wouldn’t have listened to parley. Fully expecting him to gasp and fall to the floor in a heap, you’re disturbed to find that he only staggers somewhat, more taken back that you would actually hit him rather than the pain that comes with that delicate area. He looks surprised, but his guard is lowered for just a moment, long enough for you to take your book back. It comes out with ease as you take a step back, away from him with your eyes held wide and alert. 

He looks like he means to stop you, reaching to you as you leave him again, hurriedly at that this time. It isn’t how he had planned for things to go. He was going to apologize, he was, but then you looked at him and he lost it. Vergil grunts as he punches the side of a shelf with his tiny fist. He’ll find you again, upon your next meeting, he won’t be burdened by the guilt he thought he had for you. The library was a place for him to leave that sort of thing behind, so that he might have peace of mind. How is that you’re tearing that a part for him too? 

He’s too curious to drop it, and too curious to leave it be and to find another spot to read. He wants to see you again, to let you have it. He just hopes that he can keep you as a secret from his brother. Sparda knows that he’ll never let him hear the end of it. Vergil glances over his shoulder as he hears someone approach him from behind, thinking it to be you, only to see the librarian appear. At first, he thought that he might be in trouble, but the old man only asks if he’s alright after that little fight with his friend. 

Friend?! 

“We aren’t friends..! As if I’d ever be friends with– ugh…”, what is this feeling of nausea that’s hitting him suddenly? Is the thought of being that person’s friend truly so revolting? It couldn’t possibly have been from that kick to his groin. He’s not that weak… but he’ll have to try that move on Dante just to see. 

When Vergil eventually returns to the library within the next week, he happens across you again, just as you’re about to go to the spot that the two of you like. He liked it first, but he insists that you stole it. He can’t fathom you having been here before him. Your eyes met his, and his met yours. He stares longer, and for a second, he’s reminded of the warmth that he stole from you when you two first met. You don’t like having him stare at you so intently, so you’re the first to break eye contact. 

“... You can have it this time”, you state solemnly, not wanting to fight with this boy again. 

“No”, he finally says before he moves his eyes to the floor, “You… can stay this time. I won’t make you leave”, he tells you. 

“What? Why? I thought this was your spot?”, you’re about to argue but he grabs your hand and leads you along, dragging you a bit over to where you would ordinarily find yourself seated at. Why the sudden change of heart? Vergil doesn’t say anything to you as he expects you to sit down after you rightfully yank your hand out of his. He was being weird, not that he wasn’t weird already. But now he was being weirder than before, and twice as annoying. 

“We can read here together, I’m allowing this, since you won’t leave…”, he says, with some indignation. This boy reminds you of the villain of your story… the both of them act similarly in a way that you can’t place. Now you won’t be harassed while trying to read, but you don’t even know his name. You tell him yours first, and he seems confused at first. 

“That’s my name, so tell me yours”

Why would you want to know that? For a moment, he was sure that you would’ve been more satisfied that he was allowing you to take residence within his space, but now you’re inquiring about his name. Like the two of you could be friends… or something like that. 

“Vergil”, he says.