#dmcau

I want Nero to have been taken in by Vergil as a child. On purpose for all the wrong reasons.

Vergil, who on one hand, appreciates that he now has a son. His own flesh and blood. But he's still young, he still has his very stubborn mindset of wanting to always be better. By default, his son must also become the best too.

Nero on the other hand doesn't understand. All he knows is this is now his father. Blood related or not, Vergil never really states. But they look alike, Nero thinks, so they MUST be related by blood of course. Nero who is told by Vergil that they have plans. Nero who so desperately wants to belong and win his father's affection, does as he's told. He listens to everything Vergil has to teach him, trains in any particular way Vergil has him train, and through it all he just wants the affection.

Nero doesn't care about what he's being told to do. But he has a dad now. He has someone to make proud. And he'll sure as hell do it no matter what. He doesn't care if their end goal is good or bad, he just likes being with his old man and wants to make him proud. As a son should, right? That's his take on it.

Except, along the way, Vergil might just have a slight change of heart. Possibly. The only problem? By then, it's years too late. Nero has grown. He is now stronger. Faster. Skilled. Carved out of stone by Vergil's own teachings, Nero is nothing but a shadow of his former self.

Sometimes, Vergil thinks, he catches a peculiar smile on his sons face. When in the middle of a fight, sure to win. Vergil thinks it's the same smile Nero had as a boy, when first taken under Vergils wing. Curious and eager to please.

But then it leaves just as soon. The bloody, crooked smile held nothing of the innocent boy now long forgotten.

Chapter 28: Benefaction

Note: So I made V in Elden Ring. Might write some little funny story about that and post it on here if some point if any of you are interested in reading that. Just for shits and giggles. LMK if you’d like to check that out. I’m only doing it because a few of you thought it would be cool on Tumblr. Anyway, on to the chapter!

(-~-)

The station had been crowded and exceedingly noisy, an unfortunate but expected result of holiday travel. It seemed that everyone in the region was heading elsewhere, tickets leaving the area being something of a commodity at the moment, and they had prices to match. Scalpers had bought tickets to lines they did not plan to ride reselling them for egregious prices, and every phone booth had a line. Simply getting to the concession stands was an impossibility at this point. And the help desk? A distant memory. The diluted ideas of a madman who knew only Insanity. 

But unfortunately, due to the fact that he was going to have to ride a public train in order to get to his destination, climbing on the top or in one of the cargo compartments wasn't in the cards this time around. He was going to have to pay his way on or find another route, so begrudgingly he paid the money for a somewhat overpriced ticket as he cursed himself under his breath and made his way onto the old locomotive, Capulet nothing more than a distant glimmer upon the horizon of his mind's eye.

It was fortunate indeed that he had managed to find his cloak exactly where he'd left it before leaving the library and the town for good. There were far too many people around to potentially recognize him for his liking. It wasn't as though any of these people were actively searching for him or probably even paying attention to him but the fewer people who could possibly recognize him, the better. He liked to be something of a ghost, unnoticed, or at the very least, unidentifiable. Unmemorable. 

There was simply no good to be had with being remembered, and aside from being able to say that he was the strange man who wore a coat with a cloak over it everywhere, he didn't want anyone to be able to identify him. And at least the cloak gave him plausible deniability. It was easy enough to hide should he need to, but after the train attendant had checked his ticket, he couldn't see any further reason why anyone would wish to speak with him or ask any further questions. It should just be smooth sailing unless something unsavory were to happen, and he was hoping that for once nothing would. He had his mind set on a goal, and he was not interested in compromising on it we're adding anything to his itinerary.

No, he would attempt to make himself as comfortable as possible and by his time until he reached his stop. It would be several hours, but he should be able to make it there by the end of the day.

As he settled in, he watched a menagerie of travelers make small talk on the train and eat snacks, children traveling with their parents and grandparents, completely oblivious to the horrors of loneliness and abandonment. To the demons that haunted every step that he took. A strange part of him envied them, another equally strong part of himself loathing the notion and proclaiming himself a pathetic sycophant, too stuck in the past to accomplish his goals. Undeserving of the love he saw displayed. 

Perhaps this was why his father had disappeared in the first place? To escape him and the disappointment he was probably shaping up to be? And why his mother had not come to his aid that day? Had she taken notice of this quality within him and found it undesirable? No. He would not go down this road again. It led to nothing but suffering and listlessness in the face of the answers he would never receive firsthand. It was a distraction. The manifestation of an idle mind gripped by suffering. Nothing more. And suffering was a weakness. He was not weak. He refused to wallow. To grieve. To think of these offenses any longer. He would push them down again until they inevitably resurfaced, his denial never allowing them to fully surface.

Besides, neither his brother nor his mother had escaped that fire. He had lost them both that day. He was the only survivor. He had to carry on for both of them. For his entire family. For his family's legacy. He was all there was left of his bloodline, especially if he couldn't find his father. He was alone now, and that's all he was ever going to be.

… Or perhaps not?

He was getting ahead of himself again. What was he thinking? He knew nothing. That was why he sought answers in the first place!

He forced those thoughts from his mind. A part of him knew that they were simply toxic portions of the subconscious making themself known, but although he would never admit it, there was a tiny part of him that wondered if there was truth to it all. And the fact that he could never get a concrete answer ate away at him, poisoning every aspect of his life. It was all so very much to cope with, especially when none of the fruit causes were ever addressed, but he needed to be strong. He was strong. He would become stronger. No one would ever do this to him again. But that was a matter for another day. He had affairs to attend to.

As his thoughts returned to something less catastrophic, he pondered something. When he looked at those children, what did he see that they had that he was so uncomfortable with? What could a child have to offer that he did not possess? He did not seek to take something from them, but perhaps a small part of himself wished he was them? That his own blissful ignorance and innocence could be returned to him as suddenly as it had been stolen away? Or perhaps he was simply tired. Tired of all this traveling and tired of all the searching. Perhaps he needed a break, and perhaps this trip would provide that for him. One could only hope, not that he was prone to doing that. But perhaps he could humor himself just this once and allow the luxury of hope to seep into his impenetrable facade?

Or perhaps his solitude was making him brash and susceptible to foolishness. He would find out soon enough either way. It was too early to say in either case. For now, he needed to focus on the task at hand. He was not normally prone to a wandering mind, but it seemed that might be the case on this specific occasion. Try as he might, his mind simply didn’t work in the same way when he was around him. He’d been utterly bewitched, and he felt helpless to amend it. 

Oh no.

(-~-)

The sun was nearly down by the time the train finally reached the station, several delays causing their locomotive to be pushed further back in the queue. He had disembarked as soon as the doors had opened, leaving the station with a speed that would probably alarm the average passerby, perhaps invoking thoughts of a missed appointment or something similar. And they would not be incorrect, but they would also not be entirely on the money, either. After all, he was neither late nor early. You could be neither when you were not expected in the first place.

He could not imagine that she expected him to track her down at her new address. Something told him that the young woman from the shop probably hadn't even told her yet that he'd called, things at the shop taking precedence over the act of making small talk with her boss during business hours. And even still, she had no way of knowing that he had made the decision to head to Capulet that very day. She probably assumed she had a bit more leeway than that. How fortunate for him. Perhaps he could maintain some element of surprise.

As he rounded the corner and turned onto the block that bore the cross streets given to him by the young woman who had spoken with him on the phone, he felt a strange uneasiness settle into the pit of his stomach. He did not doubt that Kat had given him the correct address, but there was just something that made him apprehensive despite everything. His pace slowed slightly as he approached the residence directly next to hers, his mind still lingering on how strange this turn of events was for him. He didn’t do this sort of thing. Why was he here? What did he hope to gain by disturbing this young woman at her new home? Why did he feel so utterly compelled to be around her? There was only one idea that came to mind, but it was too outlandish to possibly be the truth.

But as he pondered this notion and attempted to face something that he once thought impossible as a reality, he came to a sudden stop just a few feet shy of her doorstep. The front door had just opened.

She managed to push the door shut as she made her way down a few of the front steps that led from her front stoop down to the street, a large stack of boxes carried in her outstretched arms. They were empty and didn’t look very heavy, but they were certainly awkward, and the windy weather was doing quite literally nothing in regards to helping her keep her balance. This was apparent in how slow and infrequent her steps were, the young woman attempting to keep her balance on the slippery steps. And without giving it much thought, Vergil sighed and took a few steps forward. She was going to end up laying on her back on the sidewalk if she kept this up. He’d made a similar mistake himself once before. It was humiliating.

“You seem to have your hands full at the moment. Should I come back later?”

With a speed that Vergil actually found somewhat surprising, she snapped her head around to see who was talking to her and looked directly at him, taking a few moments to realize that he was actually standing there due to an anemic little tree blocking her direct line of sight. And the second she realized it was actually him, her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open, her arms going limp as the stack of boxes tumbled down the steps and landed in the gutter with a wet thud. And although he did his level best not to show it, something about how genuinely flabbergasted she now seemed was actually quite funny to him. He hadn’t been sure how she would react to seeing him again, but that certainly hadn’t been on his list.

At least she didn’t seem upset. People normally were when he came calling.

"Oh my- you actually came!" She said, clearly excited to see him. She looked as though she was on the verge of tears, her eyes glossy as she blinked more than she usually did. The cold winter air stung them as she looked at him, but her resolve was more than enough to withstand the discomfort. The young woman stumbled down the stairs towards him as she navigated the icy environment she was presented with. It seemed that regardless of how eager she was to get closer to him, she hadn’t managed to overlook the fact that the entire street was coated in a thick layer of black ice. "I remember leaving that note with my new address on it but… I didn't think you were going to come back. I hoped that you would, but I wasn't optimistic. You didn’t have a reason to."

Reaching the bottom of the steps, she rushed over, the slight heal in her boots causing her to slip slightly. She managed to recover almost instantly before hurrying over to stand before him, her intent to hug him evident. But before she threw her arms around him, the ever so subtly alarmed look on his face seemed to signal to her that perhaps it was not the best idea for her to do that. So instead she came to a stop and wrapped her arms around herself. It seemed that she was trying to appear colder than she probably was despite the very cold weather. Or maybe she actually was that cold and hadn’t noticed until that moment as a result of her excitement.

Without a word, he stepped forward and handed her the record, his pathetic attempt at concealing it inside of the bag that he had received from the store he purchased it from only serving to make it that much more obvious what might actually be inside. An oversight on his part that he’d only noticed after it was far too late to stop and attempt to find a store that was selling gift bags that didn’t cost stupid amounts of money and didn’t have lines out the door. 

“I did,” he said simply, waiting for her long fingers to wrap around the bag and gain a firm grip on it before he released it. The last thing he wanted her to do was to drop it. Not after the trouble he’d gone through to procure it for her. She held it for a moment, clearly about to open the bag before stopping. She seemed perplexed, thinking better of her decision to go snooping through his belongings. He simply looked at her, unsure as to what to do now. “I… had a reason to return.”

"What is this?” She asked with a small smile, her eyes still burning from the air. There was curiosity within them, that same welcoming softness returning that he’d come to miss during his time away from her. She glanced over at the boxes she’d accidentally dropped in the street, cringing slightly as she realized that they’d landed next to the trash can but obviously not in it. It was probably best that she take care of that sooner rather than later. No one wanted to be fined by the city council for littering.

"A gift. Something I thought you might appreciate." Vergil said as he followed her eyes over to the boxes, realizing quickly that she was probably considering putting them away. Some part of himself found that amusing as he took a few steps closer to them before grabbing them and opening the lid of the streetside trashcan, tossing them inside. Now he could hopefully maintain her undivided attention. And as he turned his attention back to her, he was met with a look of wonderment. She seemed genuinely shocked by something.

"You got me a gift? Oh, you didn't have to do that!" She exclaimed with an excited smile, a wide-eyed joy encompassing her entire tiny frame that reminded him of holidays with his own family as a small child. His parents had to practically fend Dante off with a broom when they were children, his desire to peek at their holiday gifts exceedingly powerful. It was like trying to keep a feral beast away from prime rib.

"I also cannot return it. And I won't tell you where I purchased it." Vergil said, admittedly somewhat amused with himself. There would be no returning this gift. Not if he had anything to say about it. And he did since he’d just given it to her and… well, it was rather self-explanatory, wasn’t it?

Clearly eager to see what he’d found for her, she opened the bag and stuck her hand inside, the cold plastic making contact with her now red and freezing hands. She’d clearly only planned to be outside for a few minutes, so her lack of gloves had been an unfortunate oversight. But as she pulled the record from the bag and took a look at it, a look of utterly overwhelmed joy came across her face as she realized in an instant that he’d remembered their conversation and had taken the time out of his day to track down this song for her. She held her hand up to her face to cover her mouth as a few stray tears ran down her now red cheeks, her eyes blinking away silent tears as she felt her breaths become deep and uneven. She was in utter disbelief. To see him again and to now have this… 

"But this is… where in the world did you manage to…” She stopped as she saw the strange look that came across her companion’s face, the man with the white hair taking a moment to realize that she was crying from joy and not despair. In truth, Vergil wasn’t sure he’d even done that before. It was not something he could say he’d ever experienced. “Thank you. It's wonderful… Though I think getting to see you again might be an even better gift. So now I have two amazing presents!"

Vergil watched as she turned an even darker shade of red, clearly embarrassed to some degree by the fact that she’d just said that out loud. And perhaps out of second-hand embarrassment or simply being charmed by her bashfulness, he felt himself grow ever so slightly red in the face, something that was amplified considerably the second that he realized that he’d done this. Neither of them could even look at one another until after what felt like a lifetime but was, in reality, only a few seconds, she broke the ice again.

"It's the middle of winter… Aren't you cold?"

"... Somewhat." He replied awkwardly, unsure as to what else he could say. It was the truth, after all. He wasn’t freezing by any means, but the type of clothing he was wearing was not exactly warm. But upon saying this, he glanced up at her and she pointed towards her front door. Perhaps she had something in mind.

“You know what would fix that? A cup of hot chocolate.” She said softly, taking her hands and sticking them in her coat pockets. There was a small smile on her face. And in that instant, they both knew he was going to say yet. “Let’s go inside. It’s been too long since I shared a warm drink with you and had a nice conversation.”

(-~-)

In which Vergil finds himself being annoyed by a strangely active little boy on a winter day.

Don’t like don’t interact. Block me if you have to. I am tired of fandom drama and just wanna focus on creation so please leave me alone if this ain’t your cup of tea. 

Chapter 31: Confessions

Note: Oh boy… this chapter… buckle up. Also, sorry for any strange editing mistakes. My brain wasn’t working last night.

(-~-)

About four months later…

The weeks flew by until they turned into months, and before long April was upon them.

Vergil ventured out into the wider world on a steady basis, still doggedly refusing to halt or otherwise suspend his fruitless search, the Darkslayer somewhat convinced that if he kept down the path that he currently followed that eventually something had to give and he would find what he was after.

But as the early days of April approached, so too did the rains, and Vergil resolved to stay out of them as frequently as he could, not keen to become waterlogged. He found himself staying closer to Vivienne’s residence as of late, venturing further out and then recuperating for longer periods of time. It was a much more favorable plan than his previous method of simply living on the road and having no better place to go.

Over the past few months, they had become undeniably closer. She spent less time at the bakery and more time on her personal projects while he idled many happy hours away reading books, the both of them simply pleased with lingering in the presence of one another, sitting near one another, and quietly absorbing one another’s ambiance. He’d gradually learned to let his guard down somewhat around her and about the house, and while he was always vigilant, he’d seen no traces of anything that should cause him concern. It had more or less been a pleasant blur, occasionally overshadowed by the looming guilt that came with not knowing how to approach numerous topics that he knew they needed to discuss.

And as if to provide the necessary fuel to spark a fire, on this specific occasion, something had happened while he was gone. He had frequent encounters with demons at the best of times, but he’d noticed that they were becoming less so, the danger level of the individual demons growing but the quantity and frequency diminishing. It was a trade-off that he could only assume came from the areas that he frequently spent time in.

But on this occasion, as he stumbled across the threshold of her home, he knew that this would be the night. If nothing else, his wounds would give it away. The blood he was covered in would certainly give her a shock. Perhaps if he was able to simply slip upstairs and get in the shower before she came down to greet him he could-

“Oh dear god! What in the nine circles of hell happened to you?!”

Vergil flinched as she heard her hurried footsteps coming down the stairs in front of him, the terror in her eyes evident. She clearly thought that the majority of the blood he was soaked in was his own. Understandable, but thankfully incorrect. He turned to look at her slowly, sore and clutching the wound at his side. It looked like he wasn’t going to be able to just slip away after all. He should have known as much.

“Fret not. Most of this is not my blood. I will be fine.” Vergil said as she stood in front of him, watching as he shrugged out of his hood and coat and hung them on the coat hanger by the door. It seemed he was going to need a new coat soon. What a shame.

“But you’re still hurt, right? You’re bleeding badly…” She said, clearly seeing the blood that was soaking his hand. She wasn’t wrong, he was indeed injured. But it was going to be a bit sudden and tricky for him to explain how this had happened should she ask. And it would be even worse to explain how he was miraculously healing at such an accelerated rate. “I know! I’ll get the first aid kit! Wait here!”

Vergil watched Vivienne as she glance from side to side for a second, so panicked by this surprise emergency that she’d seemingly forgotten where she needed to go in order to find it. He chuckled deep in his chest despite the pain it caused him, undeniably amused by her current state. This poor woman.

"There is no need to fetch a first aid kit. I-" before he could speak any further she had dashed off down the hall, sprinting at a speed that was probably hazardous considering the fact that she was wearing socks on hardwood floors. He sighed as he shook his head, a slight smirk on his face as he regarded her return fondly. Despite everything he couldn’t deny that he liked her, even if he had the feeling that it was going to cause him pain tonight.

Resigned to the reality that he was simply going to have to humor her feeble attempts to aid him for a least a moment, the Darkslayer mentally prepared himself for what he knew he was going to have to do. He’d been doing so the entire way over, but that hadn’t made things any easier. A part of him had known that this day would come at some point, but perhaps he’d simply hoped in vain that he was wrong. But no longer. It was time to tell her the truth. All of it. He would not hold back.

“What happened to you? How did you manage to get back here?”

She obviously knew a little bit about Yamato based purely on what she’d seen him do that night in the alley, and she knew that he was frequently accosted by demons and devils alike, but that was the extent of her knowledge. He’d taken the liberty of leaving out that part about what his father was and that his sword was capable of bending time and space. Fairly important little details, those.

Opting to just spit it out and get it over with, Vergil closed his eyes and sighed deeply. This conversation was going to be… unpleasant. “A powerful demon managed to get the upper hand for a moment. I vanquished him, and this is the result. But you need not worry. I heal… quickly.”

“I’m sure you probably do, but we wouldn’t want you to get some sort of infection, would we?” She said as he allowed her to gently lift the side of his shirt in order to attempt to wipe a bit of gauze on it. Her concerns that he would develop an infection were perfectly understandable and logical, but if the look of utter bewilderment and horror as she released the garment at the sight of his body quite literally putting itself back together was anything to go by then this was going to be an interesting conversation.

“Vergil… What’s going on.” She asked curtly, watching as the wound healed itself. Vergil stared back at her in silence for what felt like a lifetime before finally speaking, resigned to his fate.

“Do you remember that I mentioned having a secret?” He started carefully, her growing alarm evident. He didn’t want to work her up. Something he’d come to realize during their shared time together is that she was actually quite a bit frailer than she might let on. Her fierce determination and fiery personality hid this quite well, but she had a fragile constitution, and he didn’t plan to give her a heart attack tonight. “This is part of that. I… I am not… I’m only half human.”

She stared at him blankly, her eyes seeing nothing as her breath halted and he could physically see the gears in her brain turning. Surely she’d heard him incorrectly or this was some sort of morbid prank. But whatever the case, she was as unamused as she was genuinely confused. She closed her eyes and sat there for a moment, holding the bloody gauze that she’d wiped her hands on. That just wasn’t possible. Was it?

“You just expect me to take your word for it?” She said, obviously frustrated and convinced that this was all some sort of sick joke meant to upset her. And if it had been then he would have been one hell of a jokester because faking something like this took an awful lot of planning.

Knowing that there was nothing he could say that would convince her he stepped forward, no longer leaning against the wall for support. He then sighed deeply and drew Yamato from its sheath, making a criss-cross in the air that then opened up into a portal. Vergil then took in the genuinely baffled and frightened look on her face as he stepped through it and disappeared, her horrified cries the last thing that he heard before emerging on the other side of the front door, the portal still intact. He then opened the front door and crossed the threshold again, the portal closing right behind him meer milliseconds later. And as it did, he just stood there and looked at her, not even the faintest glimmer of comprehension present upon her face. But there was no doubt in his mind that she now believed him. How could she not after that? And as if to reinforce this, he allowed a little bit of his demonic nature to slip through the cracks, his eyes flashing a bright, luminescent red before returning to their normal icy blue, a silent signifier of his true self.

He sheathed Yamato, its signature ringing sound filling the room as the blade disappeared, hidden away for the time being. He flinched as the weapon vanished, looking at him with an expression that filled the pit of his stomach with anxiety. There was only fear and confusion in her eyes, her mind utterly incapable of fully comprehending what she’d just seen. He imagined that her brain was stuck in a loop of looking for plausible explanations aside from the one given to her, to reasoning that that could be the only answer, to admitting that he was, in fact, not lying. And eventually, she just let out a shaky breath and rested the lower half of her face upon her face.

She now understood that whatever feelings she felt for him were felt towards something inhuman. Someone… unlike anything that she’d expected. He imagined that discovering that he was a murderer or something like that would probably be easier to stomach. At least it was fundamentally understandable if not totally perverse and disgusting.

"I can no longer play at normality. You know what I truly am now. This is the secret I was reluctant to share with you.” There was a certain sorrow to his voice as he avoided her gaze. This had to be an impossible amount of information to process. She probably felt as though she had just been introduced to some vast cosmic entity, her entire reality crumbling around her as she was gifted the horrible truth that she’d inadvertently sought out. He wondered for a moment if she would be alright. “I can understand if you hate me.”

She blinked slowly and shook her head, clearly still in something of a state of shock. What on Earth could she say to something like that? “I… don’t hate you.”

Now he was just confused. “Are you not frightened? Revolted? Sickened by my inhumanity?"

"Why would I be?" She said simply, seemingly unbothered, a small crazed laugh escaping her body through her open mouth as she shook her head, her dilated pupils and racing heart seeing nothing and serving only to induce a state of exhausted anguish despite her lack of movement.

"Why wouldn’t you be? You should be. I am not entirely human. Is the weight of that lost on you?" He hoped at that moment that he wasn’t being overly harsh, but there was no better way that he could think to phrase that. Was she well and truly daft?

"No. Believe me, it isn't. I'm still reeling from that realization, but I can't say that it has changed anything for me." She said softly, reaching up to wrap her arms around herself. Never in a thousand lifetimes had she expected to hear him say something like this. “You’re still… you. I… I’m not sure that I care what you are.”

"And why is that?" Now he was frustrated and only vaguely knew why as he thought about it. Was he frustrated that she was still adamant in regard to her feeling about him? He’d expected more yelling and screaming. He’d expected her to run from him. Something more than… this. Perhaps deep down he didn’t feel like he deserve to be accepted by anyone other than those he’d already lost. "What emotion could you hold for me that would override basic self-preservation?"

"I care about you.” She said in a hushed tone, her eyes welling up with unshed tears as the reality of everything that had happened settled in in earnest. This was actually happening, wasn’t it? “Because I need you in my life."

Vergil was silently blown away by the statement, rendered breathless by his utter amazement. He knew that she cared about him. He’d even go as far as to say that he cared about her… but this… no. He could not do this. It would not be fair to her. She deserves someone better. Someone more stable. Someone who wasn’t him. Someone she could grow old with and hold lightly beside her. All he could bring her was ruin and devastation, just like he always did. He was no good for her.

"No. No, you don’t.” He said firmly, his eyes never leaving hers. He needed her to understand how genuinely serious he was. This was not a joke, not that he thought that she thought it was one. “You do not need the ruin I will bring you."

He could feel her desperation, her futile attempts to find the proper words for the panicked fright that she felt at that moment. He didn’t even need to ask. He just knew that she was looking for a counterargument. And he would hear her out, but he was starting to wonder if he’d overstayed his welcome. Perhaps it was best that he leave? That he’d stayed gone in the first place… 

"Look, please stay I… I need you to be alright!" It was the first time he could say that he'd ever heard her raise her voice, and even then, it was from anguish rather than anger. There was a tiny bit of frustration present to be sure, but she was more heartbroken than anything else, and every syllable oozed anguish. "I don't care what you are! I've seen who you are, and you're more than enough for me! That's all that I've ever cared to know."

All Vergil could do was stare. Wordlessly. What had she just said?

"I know that we've only known each other a few months, and you might not believe me, but I love you. I really do. And I want you in my life." She gave him a fierce look, a fire in her eyes fueled by pain and understanding burning into him like the sun's searing heat. He could feel her conviction and her sorrow; her anguish and her compassion. It was stifling in a way that was not dissimilar to standing in front of a preheated oven with the door open on a hot summer's day while wearing a heavy winter coat. "But if you can genuinely look me in the face and tell me you don't feel that, then I won't ask again. It’s okay. I can let you go if I have to. Not that I can stop you from leaving either way. How could I ever hope to?"

Vergil stood there at the bottom of the steps, his back halfway to the door as he pondered whether or not he should shut the door on this chapter of his life altogether. He peered over at her with a barely perceptible tilt of his head, their eyes anchored upon one another as they locked gazes, their wills measured against one another, each of their individual resolves unbreakable. And as he attempted to muster the strength of will to lie to her for what he was convinced was her own sake, he felt something inside of himself break. Something faltered. Something in his heart ached more than the worst wound he had ever received. And he knew at that moment that he had damned them both. Whatever hell followed him would follow them both, and he wasn't sure he could live with that or properly articulate that kind of danger to her, but he could not lie to her. Not about this. 

He could not look Vivienne in the eye and tell her he didn't love her.

"I… I cannot." His gaze fell towards the floor as he slumped over onto the foot of the stairs, realizing for the first time that he could not control everything around him. He had always tried so hard to account for every variable and secure every exit, to have as much control over his fate as he possibly could. But this woman… He could not deny her. He could not desire anyone more than her. "I cannot make the hell I live yours. I cannot allow those that would seek to hurt me to hurt you, too. They would hunt you as they hunt me. You would never be safe again. Not truly."

She seemed to linger on this statement for a minute or two, contemplating the grave repercussions of what she was going to say, or perhaps pondering how she was going to say it. This was no laughing matter, and one glance at her told anyone who laid eyes upon her that she was taking his statement very seriously. But as she stepped towards him something in the air around them shifted. He didn't know what she was going to say word for word, but he had a feeling he understood it regardless. Her intentions were clear as day.

"Vergil… I'm not going to pretend that I understand what's truly going on because this is so much to take in, but I do understand that I don't have to know everything tonight. And that I would rather be in danger and be happy with you than miss you and be safe." She sat down next to him on the stairs, taking his hand into hers and gently clasping it before leaning over to look at him. He blinked slowly before looking over at her, an uncertainty present that she'd never seen before. And more than anything he could tell that she just wanted him to be okay. And that she didn't want him to go. "I mean, I'm not thrilled about the concept of my life being in constant unending danger, but we can't let our fear of what could happen keep us from having a life worth living, right? And I think that life would be better spent together than apart, even if it means that both are alive might be shorter. But I can't speak for you. I wouldn't even try to."

"Vivienne…" It was hard to even fathom a comeback to something like that. Perhaps there was something he could do to keep her safe? He couldn't say that he disagreed with what she'd just said. They would be better together. They'd certainly be happier… But wouldn't it be less selfish for him to let her go? He highly doubted that she would simply die without him, but perhaps it was worth taking the chance. Maybe it was better that they simply took the risk and focused on the present for now and not the future. 

"Why don't we just sleep on it for now? I'm sure you're tired, too…" She said softly, seemingly needing that rest herself if her hushed tone was anything to go by. There was a part of her that truly didn’t believe that this situation had come to pass, and it showed all over her face. And a part of him ached from the fact that he’d been the one to cause this, even if he hadn’t meant to.

"I… am." He admitted reluctantly. But it was less of a physical state of exhaustion than a mental one. He honestly expected her to run screaming from the room to get away from him the second he'd revealed the truth, and the fact that she had been obviously confused and horrified but had not backed down was honestly hard for him to fully comprehend. "... But I don't believe I need to sleep on it. I've made my decision."

He could practically see her blood run cold as he spoke those words. He could see the hope in her eyes that he would say yes, and the fear that she would hear what she feared hearing most instead. Vergil stood up and went to the front door, Vivienne staring at him from behind as she sat on the stairs, breathing deeply and shaking slightly from heartbreak but not speaking. It seemed that she was certain he would leave, and that she was willing to keep her promise to let him go, making no attempt to stop him. She didn’t want to stay with someone who didn’t want her. But when he simply turned the lock to the front door and turned back to her, stepping forward before placing his hand on her shoulder, a silent sob escaped her chest as tears rolled down her face. 

He couldn't leave her here like this. He couldn't simply toss aside everything that she'd done for him like it meant nothing at all. Especially not when it meant the world to him. It would be worse than killing her. He couldn't let her think she was undeserving. That she wasn't enough. She was.

"I'll stay."

She clutched her chest lightly as she closed her eyes and let out a shaky exhale, gathering herself. And at that moment he truly understood how badly she wanted him to stay, for only someone with no fear of death could accept the possibility of it in the way that she had and still long for that person to stay more than anything. They could live without one another, but both of them knew that their lives would be richer together. They could face whatever came side by side. And he would protect her from whatever evil might come to claim her. Or at least he would die trying. That was a promise.

And if the worst should come to pass, well, she did have one hell of a throwing arm.

(-~-)